#CRAFTS AND ARTS HELMET BOY

[dealerlover]

chat do any of yall have danron discord i can join to stream games!!! chat and i get worse by the day.

(ft. @dootledorp)

this is URGENT yall!! they asked me where yuta was on chapter FIVE!!!!!! we're losin it out here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[lushrve]

hockeyteam!141 x figureskater!reader

cause who doesn't want the image of these boys all sweaty and bloody in hockey gear (also i haven't mastered writing in a scottish or manchester accent yet so don't come for me)

you’re a figure skater, something you’ve devoted your whole life since childhood to. over the years, you’ve honed your craft, becoming one of the best in your area. you do well enough at competitions; not olympic material, but skilled enough to bring home a state title every now and again. you take pride in the way your body glides across the ice, painting pretty pictures with each scrape of the blade of your skate. it’s methodical, structured, clean. if you close your eyes, you can almost pretend you’re dancing on clouds.

it’s a small town and there’s only one ice rink for miles, so of course you run into the local hockey team practicing and warming up for matches. you don’t know most of them (don’t care to, frankly), but some are more notorious than others.

the team captain and center, price, the tactical mind behind their victories. from the few games you’ve watched them play, you can tell that he calls the shots. you watch as he sits on the bench, watching his teammates rush back and forth across the ice. it’s like he sees beyond the game. sometimes, you see him close his eyes, like he’s seeing a play take shape in his head, before calling out to the others and making it happen. they always listen, his booming baritone too compelling to disregard. (that voice made you feel something too, but you didn’t want to admit it.)

then there was a defenseman, simon. you just knew him as “riley” by the last name emblazoned on the back of his jersey. but if you listened closely (and you did), his teammates called him ghost. it didn’t take you very long to find out why. ghost was a large man, all broad shoulders and hard lines. he preferred the silent approach to taking down an opponent, slamming them against the boards before they could even register the sound of his skates scraping the ice. he played dirty, your eyes often meeting his when the referee threw him in the penalty box. (he winked at you once as he cleaned some blood from his lip, fresh from a fight. you pretended not to notice.)

left wing belonged to johnny, a scottish man they called soap. he got his nickname from his assist record, always coming in to clean up what price or ghost or another teammate had fumbled to lead his team to victory. he was quick on his feet, but brutal. while ghost was the primary muscle, soap wasn’t afraid to get physical if someone was coming between him and a goal. soap was also mouthy, chirping in his thick accent across the ice to get in the other team’s head. half the things he said, you don’t understand. hell, the other team probably didn’t either. but the tone was what mattered. (he leaned over the plexiglass after a solid win, personally inviting you back to their next home game. you blushed crimson.)

right wing was kyle. by far the prettiest one on the team, you thought. he’d take his helmet off as he skated back to the bench, running a hand through his sweat-soaked curls. the sight of him was like a work of art, a canvas brutalized by the nature of an aggressive team sport. he wasn’t as quick to get physical as the others were, but the moment everyone dogpiled on the ice, he was right there in the fray, throwing punches that landed just as loud and hard as the rest of them. the way he moved on the ice almost reminds you of your routines, careful and choreographed. he knew exactly where he was going, and he always hit his marks. (you wondered if he always moved like that, wondered if he danced through life.)

ghost and soap approached you after a win, coming up into the stands after they’d stripped themselves of their gear. while soap looked a bit smaller after shedding the heavy padding, ghost didn’t. still a hulking wall of muscle. “oughta sit in the stands mo’ often, birdie,” soap chirped, a smug smile on his face as he leaned on his hockey stick. “y’r like a good luck charm fer us.” you blushed pretty, averting your eyes and missing the way the two men looked at each other. you’d do just nicely, they thought. ghost cleared his throat, your eyes snapping up to him like he’d commanded it. (he could’ve. you would’ve obeyed.) “when d’you skate again?” he asked, arms crossed over his expansive chest.

“y’ve seen us in our element. now we wanna see you in y’rs.”

[applejuicebegood]

The Softest of Jason Todd HCs

Fem!Reader A/N: Some of these were originally conceived for the lovely, talented, wonderful @midnightorchids. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FALLOW HER RIGHT NOW

Masterlist

Jason fell for you slowly. It was the kinda falling that took on the form of severe distraction and confusion during his patrol time. The only spot in his second life he had crafted into hours of precise control and expectancy. He hated how, as he was clicking a mag into his handgun, his mind would flash to your smiling, blushed face. He hated how you would unintentionally make him trip and stumble over the roof-tops of Gotham. He hated how recalling the chime of your laugh made his hands sweaty under his leather gloves. He hated how he had to take off his helmet in the seclusion of an abandoned wear-house because recalling how his hand slipped in to your on your last date made his face heat up to the point where he felt like he would pass out.

Once he realised that the nervous pounding in his gut whenever your shoulders brushed was in-fact caused from a growing crush on you, he panicked. The eventual confession was awkward and stumbled, him making it clear that he needed time and room to figure it out. He took your smaller hands into his, promising that no matter what, for now he would figure it out with you at his side. Of course you agreed, squeezing his hands in confirmation.

Ya'll are soulmates, period. Very big 'he is half of my soul' energy. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. Your words have already been said by the other before you can string them together in your head. You share in each-others grief and rage. Five years into the relationship, Jason knew you so well (and being raised in a family of detectives) that you would never have to explain your frustration or annoyance - and on days like that he would always be ready to wrap you up in a weighted blanket, forcing a cup of raspberry tea into your cold hands and his headphones over your ears with one of his audiobooks already playing. Carrying you to your shared bed for you to fall asleep leaned up against his chest, his thick arms wrapped tightly around you.

Despite his availability of wealth and status, he keeps your date-night very low-key and personal. On his off days from Red-Hooding, both of you would have cooking nights. Where you would sway and giggle with the slow drift of music coming from the kitchen radio. You would make something hearty and filling. You wanting to see Jason sigh in the comfort of good food. You both would curl up with your steaming bowls on your couch, probably watching Tangled (at your request). It's all extremely cozy, Jason smiling into your skin as gratitude blooms in his chest for you. For having created this safe, hidden expanse of reassurance. All while the harsh Gotham wind whipped just outside your window.

This man is smitten- he worships you entirely. His is in awe of you, even as both of you grow old, his love and his care for you never relents or dwindles.

Ya'll would go to museums and art galleries and he would point at statues and paintings of goddess and queens and say 'you', under his breath. It's so horribly corny but it makes you hold his arm just a bit tighter every time.

After you both moved in together, he developed a habit of making your coffee alongside his and bringing it to you in bed in the mornings. This eventually just became your routine on weekends when you both had enough time to bask in the slow creeping of sunlight over each-others skin.

He's a romantic at heart, a part of him you had to slowly unearth under years of torment and blood. You were the one to force him out of his cave of isolation and into the reality of him deserving softness and joy. It's a dept you have assured him he doesn't need to pay back. That doesn't stop him from trying.

Giggles and smiles like a little boy if you kiss his forehead, specifically at the roots of his white streak. You think it's one of the prettiest things about him.

Unintentional scary dog when you guys are out together. He's got his hand laced with yours or floating somewhere on your hip or lower back. It's mostly due to his anxiety, constantly having his head on a swivel. It's all heightened due to the fact that he has the most precious, important individual standing next to him. Whether it's at one of his Dad's galla's or trips to the local library, he likes to have you near him.

Bitch has multiple playlists made about/for you (a lot of Noah Kahn and TV Girl)

Example:

A/N: I may be gay but I have a very special place for sappy Jason in my heart. Please send in any requests regarding our boy (or any of the bat boys or girls)- I really love writing for the people in this fandom.

[djarincore]

Drawings

summary: You buy Grogu art supplies.

word count: 678

tags: pure fluff, gn!reader, crayons exist in the sw universe bc i said so

a/n: part of my 500 words a day series. the letter is D for drawings!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The brand-new Nevarro marketplace was bustling with vibrant life. You swept through the crowd with Grogu in your arms, looking for things that would brighten up your new home. On your way to the florist, a smaller stall filled with art supplies caught your eye. 

After being on the run for so long, it would be nice for Grogu to get to be a child for once and do normal childlike activities. You and Din already enrolled him in the local school and the supplies would be useful as well. You looked over the many different mediums laid out on the table. 

“Do you want to try watercolors or crayons, Grogu? Or maybe acrylics?” You tapped your chin. His babble did not offer much help for your indecision, but you came to a decision soon enough. 

—

“I’m home!” You announced, balancing a bouquet of red and yellow flowers in one arm along with a bag filled to the brim with half the art supply stall and Grogu in the other. You made your way to the kitchen and set him down on his high chair. 

Din appeared from the bedroom, helmet-free, and rushed to take the overflowing flowers from you. “I could have helped you carry all this.”

“We could handle it.” You turned to Grogu, setting down the bag of art supplies in front of him. “Right, sweetheart?”

“What are these?” Din peeked inside the bag and pulled out a pan of watercolors. He inspected the box as if he’d never seen them before. You supposed being brought up under the Creed and being a bounty hunter most of his life didn’t allow time for leisurely activities like coloring. Maybe arts and crafts would be good for both boys. 

“For Grogu, figured it’d be a nice little hobby for him.” You took out the stack of papers you bought and the rest of the supplies, laying it all out on the table for Grogu to choose from. He grabbed for a silver marker, fumbling with it a bit, teething on the cap. You helped him uncap it and drew a simple circle. “See? You can draw with it.” 

When you placed the marker back in his hand, he recreated your circle, a bit lopsided and wobbly. You clapped your hands and cheered, “Perfect! Good job, bug.” 

He let out a cheerful giggle and continued dragging the marker across the page in random directions. 

Din chuckled. “He’ll be an artist in no time.”

The two of you got to work preparing dinner, leaving Grogu to continue drawing at the table. You would occasionally glance back at his artwork, seeing the new colors he was using and attempting to decipher what he was drawing. Din guessed it was a mountain and you chose a tree.

By the time you were setting the table, he’d gone through several sheets of paper, filled with various scribbles and colors. 

You plucked the marker from his hand and shook your head when he whined. “You’ll get to draw after dinner.”

Neither of you would have imagined the monster you created by giving him art supplies. He drew day and night, changing mediums and improving by the day. You and Din would sit and draw with him whenever you were free, praising each abstract doodle and painting. But, his paper supply was running thin and you were planning to take a trip to the market again. 

“Hey!” 

You poked your head into the living room to find Din crouched by the front door, running his finger across a blob of green marker colored onto the wall. As you approached, you realized it was not just a blob, but a head with two long ears sticking out. On either side of the head was another drawing that looked suspiciously like Din’s helmet and your face. 

“A family portrait?” You mused, a proud smile forming on your lips as you crouched beside the two. You picked up a red marker and uncapped it to draw a large heart around the three heads. 

“Hm,” Din hummed, “Perfect.”

[starvales]

the end is nigh, but who is to say that is a bad thing?

gn!childofapollo!reader

synopsis : you were one of the very few children of apollo that inherited the gift of prophetic visions. however, they could range from what was for dinner to the outcome of a life changing event. and as inconvenient as it was, you knew that this vision was different.

content : swearing, lowkey spoilers ig, depiction of book!percy

words : < 600

a/n : just a silly little scenario i dreamt of last night, teehee 🤭

you woke up that morning thinking that you’d be having a merry fun time, picking strawberries with your brothers and sisters, gossiping while also having a competition of who could pick the most before the lunch time conch sounded.

what you didn’t anticipate would be the surging pain of a prophecy that was just far too large in its importance for your half-blood mind to handle.

"c-canvas," you plead to nobody in particular, but hoping at least one of your siblings would get the memo.

the colour sea green flashes across your mind.

you stumble back to your feet, not caring for your fallen strawberry basket and the berries you step on, "i need the biggest fucking canvas at the rec room. and i need it now!"

and after you kick out any inhabitants that were previously inside, you do not leave the arts and crafts recreational centre that day.

multiple of your siblings had urged chiron to let them check up on you after the passing of the second day, but he ultimately denies their pleas. he knows of your gift, and knows that this vision would not be the same as the others. this needs time.

chiron had said that five days ago and now believes you have had ample time. the activities director goes to knock on the door, but somehow sensing the tension, a breeze pushes it open.

it creaks until the hinges could not open upon itself any more. he invites himself in (also choosing to ignore the curious campers behind him).

to say the room was a mess would be an understatement.

there was spilled and splattered paint that would surely stain both the walls and floor; dirty paintbrushes of all sizes were stuffed anywhere that was considered somewhat of a cup; a small, one metre step ladder to your right; cabinets and drawers all flung open.

but there you stood, at the centre of it all. admiring your work. all 100x150 inches of it.

sweat visibly lined your clothes, and you were panting as if you ran a marathon. and for some reason, a dagger was at the mercy of your hands rather than a brush.

you turn to face your audience, a tired and fulfilled smile plasters your face.

the dagger slips from your grasp and rattles against the floorboard, it being the only sound that echoes briefly within the room.

your knees buckle but before you could fall, two of your brothers had caught you, ushering your body to the infirmary.

chiron wordlessly touches the canvas. it is dry. he deduces that you have been staring at it for hours on end.

the centaur had lived many centuries, but no words in the languages he knows could begin to describe what he had thought upon analysing the masterpiece; one that he assumes that you will soon be calling your magnum opus.

dark, thunderous clouds that depicted lightning. stormy and unforgiving waves. a golden fleece that lay against a tree. a hole in the ground. scattered helmets and swords. there were far too many things happening at once.

but there stood a figure, proudly painted at the centre.

with the stature of a boy who had only freshly turned a teen, he had dark hair and sunkissed skin, a grin that bordered rebellious and playful, and a sword that glowed with power.

however, the one thing that everybody could really and truly focus on, were the jagged slashes where the boy's eyes should be. the colour unbeknownst to the world but you.

[kaysfanficcorner]

Out of This World Chapter 2:  Getting to Know You

Author’s Note: Hey all! Welcome to chapter two. Thank you to everyone who read chapter one! I’ve been excited to share this, so I hope your enjoy!

***** = A break in the scene or a switch between character pov.

Summary: The Mandalorian and his new shipmate make their way to a few planets as he hunts for quarries. In the meantime, they start to slowly get to know more about each other and conflicting feelings arise.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Female Earthling Reader

Warnings: Light sexual tension. Light reference to masturbation's. Cursing. This story is eventually going to have NSFW scenes so please no one under 18 interact. If you are under age, you are prohibited from this work of fiction. 

AO3

*****

It takes a few weeks for things to fall into a comfortable routine around the Razor Crest, and for you to get your “space legs” as you like to call it. Being a nanny to the child quickly becomes a second nature to you. You’ve started to learn his moods, his habits, what makes him giggle or cry. You spend your days catering to the baby’s every whim, and you’re absolutely in nanny heaven. He’s a curious little boy and if you’re not watching him all the time he tends to get himself into mischief, yet even so you can’t help but feel he’s one of the very best children you’ve ever been hired to care for. Perhaps you’re biased because of how stinking cute he really is, but he’s genuinely just a sweet little being in need of the same love and attention that any child of any species needs in order to grow up happily. 

The Mandalorian turns out to have more of a personality under that helmet of his than you’d originally expected him to, and he’s more of a hands on father than you’re used to dealing with. Most of the kids you’ve watched in the past came from slightly toxic homes, much like the one you grew up in, and you’ve usually been the one responsible for fulfilling those absent parental needs where able. 

The Mandalorian, however, spends every moment that he’s not flying the ship, using the fresher, hunting, or sleeping, to try and pay any attention he can to the kid. He may not know what he’s doing sometimes, but it’s undeniable that Mando is a really good foster dad. He truly has the natural instincts of a father.

So far, there’s been a single stop on one planet for Mando to hunt the first quarry on his list. The hunt only takes three days, but the planet is deemed entirely too dangerous for you and the kid to be left without supervision, so the two of you stay behind with Jupiter on the tightly locked up Razor Crest until his return.

From your view of it up in the cockpit, you can see that the sky of this planet is a swirling mixture of navy blue and bright purple, even during the day. At night there are not one, but four moons. One of which is so close to the planet itself, that a majority of the lower half of the sky is taken up by its cratered, blue-green surface. It’s certainly a sight to behold for your Earthling mind. Aside from that, the forest of dark blue, almost black piney looking trees is relatively quiet aside from the odd looking bird or animal that passes by. 

You only go slightly stir crazy in that seventy-two hours. You and the kid try your best to patiently wait for the bounty hunter to return, but the little guy gets somewhat restless without the presence of his foster dad and you miss having another adult to talk to. Eventually you do manage to learn that the kid likes your taste in music, and that he’s completely enthralled by it when you do yoga. He even learns to mimic a few of the easier poses, which is probably one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen. His big eyes slipping closed as he sticks his arms out in warrior pose, is a sight to behold.

“Mental note,” you say to yourself out loud as you fiddle around with painting your nails at the beginning of the third day, “get Mando to bring us some arts and crafts supplies. Maybe the kid would like making things.” 

In the background, a soft techno song is playing from the iPad and the kid is bobbing his little head to the beat while the cat tries to knock a few things over.

Once the Mandalorian does return a few hours later, slightly bloodied but no worse for wear, you finally get to learn what carbonite is. He shows you how he freezes the bounty alive in a block of the gross looking gray stuff. The poor bith, a bug-like creature to say the least, is stuck with a look of terror in its gigantic eyes. Mando explains that this process can apparently cause hibernation sickness which results in weakness, dehydration, dizziness, memory loss, and temporary blindness.

“That’s horrifying,” you emphasize with a hand on your chest. The kid, who is cradled in your other arm, apparently disagrees and practically claps his hands at the foggy sight of the freezing process. 

“Beats having to make conversation with a criminal,” Mando responds with a small shrug, “the ones I bring in warm usually never shut up. They think it will sway me.”

Mando then shows you that he brought back a fair amount of fresh food from the local market just as you’d requested. Several exotic fruits and vegetables you’ve never seen before but are excited to try. One green fruit in particular seems the most enticing, mostly because Mando tells you it’s one of his personal favorites. He also informs you that he asked around about any sort of black hole phenomenon, but was mostly met with incredulity from the locals.

After getting cleaned up and changing his clothes, the Mandalorian allows you a few hours on the outside of the ship so you and the kid can get some fresh air while charging the iPad. The bounty hunter sits with his back against a tree trunk as he keeps a close eye on your attempt to get the kid to exert some of his energy, but after awhile you’re willing to bet that Mando falls asleep for about forty minutes. 

When he eventually wakes up, he stands and makes his way over to where you’re laying in the grass with the kid sleeping on your stomach. 

“Hey,” you say with a smile up at him. The sunlight bounces off of his helmet and blinds you for a moment before his head moves to block the sun from your eyes entirely.

“Hi,” he says back, holding a hand out to you, “Let him rest for a little while and let me show you something.” 

Careful not to wake him, you gently move the baby off of you and take the offered hand. He pulls you up with ease, as if you weigh the same as the kid, and that’s the first time you realize how strong he really is. 

Then he hands you a blaster. You look down at it with skepticism, before looking back up to the man with curious eyes.

He answers your unspoken question, “I’d like to teach you how to use this. For now, I want to see how well you can shoot. We’re going to start off easy and work our way up from there. When we have some down time later, I’d also like to teach you how to properly clean it and care for it. These weapons are useful, but if you don’t know your way around it then you’re just endangering yourself and others. Do you understand?”

You nod, wanting to take this new level of trust that he’s extending to you very seriously. “I understand. Thank you for trusting me.”

He nods in return, “Try not to make me regret it. Hold the blaster how you think you should and show me your stance.”

You’ve never shot a firearm before, so after pulling from your memories of what you’ve seen in action movies, you spread your legs slightly and hold it out in front of you with both hands. Your right hand is holding the blaster itself, with your finger on the trigger, and your left hand is steadying your arm. 

The Mandalorian makes a clicking sound with his tongue, “Not terrible, honestly. But you need to fix your footing. Like this.” 

He shows you with his own feet and you mimic him. When he’s pleased with how you look, he comes to move behind you. His body is so close to yours that it’s distracting, but you try to focus as he keeps going. Your insides are squirming feeling him this near to you. 

“You never want your finger on the trigger unless you’re about to take the shot. Keep it elongated down the side, so you can slip the finger in an pull the trigger in a moments notice.” As he says this and you comply, his arms circle around you and he adjusts your elbows slightly.

Your hands begin to sweat horribly.

“Much better,” he says, taking a few steps back to observe you. You miss the physical presence of him as soon as it’s gone.

“So not a lost cause?” You ask, trying your best to hold the pose he left you in.

“Not a lost cause,” he agrees, “Why don’t you try firing at that tree?” He points to one that’s a few yards away.

You slip your finger into the trigger and pull. There’s a soft click but nothing happens. “Did I mess this up already?” You ask, confused.

“No, I wanted to see if you would remember that the safety is on.” He replies, there’s a hint of a smirk in his voice and you narrow your eyes at him.

“That was a cheap trick,” you say with a huff. It feels slightly like he’s picking on you and your shoulders slump a little.

“I didn’t meant anything by it, I just wanted to test you. There’s no harm in having a gap in your knowledge. All that matters is the willingness to expand it.” He shows you how to turn the safety off, and steps back again. “Sorry, I wont do that again.”

“I forgive you,” you reply with a little more confidence in your voice and you take the shot. A bright blast of red goes flying into the thick woods and you watch as it disappears into the tree line. 

“Try again, you can go until you make the shot. Don’t hold your breath and keep both eyes open.” He moves to lean against the tree a few yards away from you so he can keep an eye on both you and the sleeping kid.

About fifteen minutes later, you hit the tree trunk dead on. A cheer erupts from you and you do a little victory dance. You’re sure you can hear a low chuckle coming from within the beskar of Mando’s helmet, and he claps his hands in applause.

“Congratulations,” he says, “You’ll be taking down Storm Troopers in no time.”

You turn the safety back on and look at him with a raised eyebrow, “What’s a Storm Trooper?”

*****

It’s probably another few weeks of space travel, with the occasional fuel stop at a star port and a trip to an aquatic planet for another quarry, before you’re finally ready to admit to yourself just how attracted to the Mandalorian you really are. There’s no use in denying it. You felt the initial spark of attraction for him when you’d met on Nevarro, and that fire has only burned brighter every day that you’ve lived on his ship and nannied his foster child. Will you act on this attraction? That’s an entirely different matter all together. It’s one thing to harbor a crush, its another to act drastically just because you’re a horny mess around him and it only seems to be getting worse.

You’re attracted to a man who you cannot, and will very likely never, look into the eyes of. A man you can’t actually see, nor do you know his age or true name. What a trip. 

At first you try to chalk it up to cabin fever, to being cooped up inside with only him, the baby, and the cat. Then he’ll go and do something like clean his blaster in front of you or polish the jet pack, and the sight of the cosmic gunslinger sends thrills of need through your deprived core. His body is so alluring in all that armor.

Then there's his damn voice. The things that his lovely baritone voice can do to your body should be considered sacrilegious in every imaginable sense of the word. He’ll suddenly break a comfortable silence between you to ask you if the kid’s taken a nap yet that day or a random question about Earth, and its enough to make your mouth begin water before you’re able to answer. Enough to make you have to bite down on your left knuckles in order to prevent yourself from making obscene noises as you touch yourself later on that night in the fresher, imagining all of the dirty, depraved things you’d like to hear that voice of his whisper in your ear. 

He smells so good, too. Your natural scent has pretty much taken over the cot at this point, but that first glorious week of sleeping on the ship had been insatiable. The smell of him had been on every inch of the thing. As far as you’re concerned, the sweaty, natural musk of the Mandalorian could be bottled up and sold by Gucci himself and no one would ever question it. It’s a heavenly aroma to say the least.

His persona is strong and masculine on the surface, which is initially what attracted you to him in the first place. There is another part of him though, one you’re slowly getting to see more and more of during your time together. It’s this slightly more relaxed side that only comes out when its just your little group whirling through hyperspace, that’s what is truly starting to do you in. 

The only way you can really describe it, is that he’s gotten used to you being around enough that he’s begun to let his guard down a little in front of you. Not by much, but enough for you to notice. 

His shoulders will flex beneath the armor as he reaches his arms up over his head to stretch mindlessly, sometimes a yawn escaping through the modulator. He’ll curse more in front of you if the kid’s not around. Words you understand, and some you don’t at all. The tone of a curse being unmistakable behind the odd phrases regardless. You’ll catch him sitting up in the cockpit every now and then, allowing Jupiter to sleep in his lap while he flies the ship. He seems to like her just as much as she likes him, or at the very least he doesn’t push her down when she jumps up to rub her head lovingly into his chest or knead at his armor plated thighs.

When he’d laughed at your joke back on Nevarro? That had only been the beginning. Mando doesn’t crack many jokes of his own, but this doesn’t stop him from chuckling at most of yours. His sense of humor is hidden under that helmet somewhere, and nothing makes you feel more accomplished than getting a miniature laugh out of him. It’s never a robust or boisterous sound, but low and hearty. 

The kid will suddenly reach for Mando to hold him while in your arms and you’ll pass him over, the openly tender moments shared between unlikely foster father and son pulling effortlessly at your heartstrings. You’ve become endeared to this duo whether you’ve asked to be or not, and when Mando is in the room its all you can do not to act like a smiling, giddy mess.

The attraction you feel towards him is undeniable and strong, even without the luxury of being able to see his face. He could be the phantom of the opera inside that thing for all you know, but still the infatuation persists.

But above all else, you’re really starting to consider Mando to be your friend. That might be the most attractive thing about him of all. 

Trying to keep these desires and feelings shoved deep down is becoming a challenge, though. The urge to reach out and brush a hand over his forearm will overpower you, and you’ll catch yourself a moment away from your fingers stretching out towards him before clenching your fist up tightly at your side. There are two sides of your personality endlessly battling your will to ignore him in every instance. 

You’ve always been a hopeless romantic, never truly content to wade through life by yourself. In the past, on Earth, this never worked in your favor with the opposite sex. Every chance at romance a failed travesty. You constantly long for the comfort of another person’s body pressed tightly against yours. You yearn to have the affection and attention showered upon you which you rarely received as a child, but with the intention to return that affection tenfold. You wish to have a friend by your side to share your life with. You want a true partner, someone to take care of you as you take care of him. As a natural caregiver from a broken home, you’ve always longed to have a family you can nurture and love freely as your own. A family entirely of your making, comprised of people you trust and respect. 

Apparently for most guys this had been “too much”, leaving you to float in and out of uncomfortable situations with foolish men not worth half of your time. Not even sexually worth your time either.

Embarrassingly, you’ve never slept with anyone who had the ability to help you reach an orgasm. You used to blame yourself, thinking that your self-consciousness was causing your body to freeze up in the presence of another. But as the years went on and your confidence in the bedroom grew, you still never found a partner to achieve this triumph over your body. Because of this, you’ve also never been able to create a deep enough sexual connection with another person for any relationships to even stand a chance. Sex is one of your favorite things in the world, but you’ve never actually been able to enjoy it in the way you need to most. 

You can’t help but think that Mando knows his way around a woman’s body, and your secret, almost nightly fantasies of him finally fixing this long standing problem for you are absolutely maddening.

And so the two sides of you wage war with one another daily. Some days you just want the Mandalorian to throw you up against the ship’s wall and fuck you until you don’t know your own name, and others you find yourself thinking that you want two of you to take the kid for a nice scenic hike should you stop on a good planet for it. You walk a very fine line between debaucherous wretch and hopeless romantic.

The fact remains, however, that you are still completely out of place in this galaxy. Your eventual departure and the eventual departure of the kid are the two main reasons that you usually force this silly, frivolous way of thinking aside. Both of you are temporary passengers on Mando’s ship, and you know that you’re already in far too deep with how attached you feel to the kid. The day he leaves the Razor Crest, should that happen during your time on it, will very likely rip your heart completely in half. And you know damn well you will be just as broken-hearted if you are the one to leave first. Odds are things are bound to go back to normal for everyone on board the ship at some point, and getting attached to the Mandalorian on top of it is only asking for more trouble than you think you’re prepared to handle.

This, on top of the fact that he’s very clearly a private person to begin with, is why you stop yourself every single time you feel the urge to ask him something personal about himself.  No matter how badly your curiosity wants to take over, you shove it deep down inside just like the rest of your infatuation with him. Besides, its not like he’d be able to answer questions like, “Hey Mando, what’s your favorite pizza topping?” The bounty hunter wouldn’t know what a pizza was if you made one for him yourself in the poor excuse of a galley.

Fuck. Now you could kill for a pizza.

*****

Similarly, Din is harboring struggles of his own behind that beskar helmet of his. Particularly regarding the fact that you don’t ask him anything about himself. Ever. You are quite literally the most curious person Din has ever met, asking him various questions almost daily. 

“How does the hyperdrive actually work?”

“Hey Mando, is the next quarry a human or some other kind of species?”

“What did this one do to end up with on a bounty on him?”

“Mando, what planet in this galaxy has the most moons? Mine only had one. It’s so cool to see multiple moons in the night sky like on that first planet we stopped at. I’d love to see like six all at once.”

“What language do they speak here?”

Din is always willing to answer you, never once denying you the information you seek about the galaxy you now reside in. He never talks down to you or tries to make you feel foolish for asking, but instead tries to explain what he can to the best of his ability. The galaxy can be dangerous, life in space can be dangerous, and the more you know about your surroundings, the less Din needs to worry about you getting yourself into trouble.

One would think that this eventually gets old for Din Djarin, but it’s quite the contrary. It should annoy him. Really, it should. Yet it doesn’t. Your questions don’t pester him in the slightest. He enjoys answering you, getting to share his knowledge of the universe with you. It’s never a constant thing, and you never bombard him with too much of it all at once. Your queries are never anything other than thoughtful, drawing from a place of respect. 

It usually only happens when you come across something you genuinely don’t understand, when you’ll look up at Din with those big, bright eyes filled with mystified splendor. He’s powerless not to answer you when you look at him like that. Din can’t help but find you beautiful, your sense of genuine wonder adding an extra layer of softness to your already impossibly exquisite features. It’s that same sense of wonder that also allows Din to see things that he’s always taken for granted in a new light.

He is not without questions of his own, however. Whenever you say, do, or wear something from your home world, Din cannot help but ask you about it. This planet, this Earth, you’re from seems to be just about the strangest place in the universe, and Din has seen some strange things in his heyday. The cultural differences alone are beyond him, let alone the primitive technology he’s seen you tote around the ship connected by a short wire to little white buds in your ears which you call “headphones”. He’s still getting used to the way you speak, the odd phrases you constantly spout off, but you’re usually able to get your point across to him. Din’s own growing curiosity about you is beginning to be somewhat uncontrollable.

Most importantly, and odd as it is, the more he learns about you the more Din is starting to consider you to be a friend worth getting to know.

Which is why it bothers him once he starts to realize that the one thing you’ve never asked him a single question about is himself. He’s not stupid, it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out. He’s even sure he’s caught you stop yourself from saying something to him on more than one occasion, and its nagged at him for several days after. 

He knows how thankful he should be that you’ve never once pried into his personal life, but for whatever reason Din wants you to pry. Even though Din Djarin is ever the sensible and logical man and he knows that it shouldn’t affect him in the slightest, it really, truly bothers him. Drives him slightly crazy, even. You’ve lived on the ship for a full month now, and still you ask about every kriffing thing in the galaxy besides him.

Din lets this whole thing go for another few weeks, as long as he possibly can, until he's finally going to stop driving himself mad and just put an end to it once and for all.

But in the meantime, his attraction to you grows. 

The Way has no restrictions on sensuality despite the popular opinion of most beings. It’s simply seen by his people as a means to an end. A necessary aspect of life that, if not properly addressed, causes distraction and sloppiness. Both things that a warrior cannot afford, for his or her very life depends on the ability to focus in the face of battle. 

Though the culture heavily consists of foundlings and there is very little need to procreate, most adult Mandalorians do eventually take another Mandalorian as a mate. If not simply as a way to deal with these natural urges effectively and for the companionship. For Din this just never came to be. He did have an adolescent fixation with one of the older girls in The Tribe, early on in his days with the Mandalorians, but even that had been fleeting. There is no denying that Mandalorian women are all beautiful in their own right. Strong, independent women whom Din would trust in battle without a second thought. 

Hypocritically and embarrassingly, however, Din has never been able to bring himself to be attracted to another Mandalorian enough to see past the beskar helmet. This fact has always caused a deep sense of guilt within him, and a small amount of shame. It should be considered to be an honor to have a woman of such caliber at his side, but that’s not what Din most craves late at night when he’s taking care of himself in private. 

No, Din wants to see gorgeous, thick hair that his fingers can get tangled in. He wants to see beautiful, lust filled eyes looking up at him with need. Those same eyes slipping closed as breathtaking facial features contort in moments of pure ecstasy brought on by his touch and his alone. Din doesn’t want the rough hands of a warrior on his bare skin, but the gentle and comforting caress of silky, delicate fingers. Soft lips grazing his neck. 

Din also secretly craves to be completely nurtured by someone, to be taken care of in a way that he never has before. 

Mandalorian women cannot provide these things for Din, and he cannot expect someone to be only ever be attracted to his helmet if he can’t find one attractive on someone else. He can’t even provide a potential partner with a kiss, one the simplest pleasures in the galaxy. Din’s lips have not touched another person’s flesh since he swore the oath and placed the beskar upon his young head. He’s not even sure he remembers how to do it. This is one of the many things that has always gotten in the way when it comes to women, so in recent years he’s resolved to not even bother anymore. Din Djarin was prepared to go it alone until the bitter end.

When your eyes meet his though? Even with a barrier of beskar between the two of you, the way you look up at him with such admiration in your eyes throws him for a loop nearly every time. That old way of thinking begins to melt away. Perhaps Din doesn’t want to go it alone, not all the time at least.  

But... you’re inevitably going to leave. If you can find a way back to your bizarre home planet, you’re going to go and Din will likely never see you again. Just like the kid will leave him one day too. So he resolves to shove his growing desire for you so far down that he cannot feel it anymore. He’s convinced himself that he can be numb to it just like all the other times he’s had to be, until he eventually forgets about it all together and moves on with his miserable life.

*****

It’s another normal, uneventful evening in space. You’re sitting on an overturned crate, bouncing the kid up and down on one knee while The Mandalorian is preparing something to eat for the three of you. This has been the unspoken evening ritual for the better part of your time on the ship, since the evening when you happened to walk in on him attempting to keep the kid and the cat from playing too roughly with one another on top of trying to make food. He’d been obviously flustered and overwhelmed by the situation, but wouldn’t ask you for help. So you had just scooped the kid up, stroked the cat on the head, and silently pulled up a crate. He’s never once requested it, but you’ve done it every single night since.  

Both of you secretly love this routine.

In fact, if he is to be completely honest with himself, its Din’s favorite part of the day. Cooking a hot meal for the group a is such a simple thing, but more and more it begins to feel so... domestic. More domestic than anything Din has experienced since being a child, well before he became a foundling and subsequently a Mandalorian. It dredges up very early, blurry memories of Din on his own father’s knee while his mother makes their supper. The roles are reversed here, but the sight of his foster son sitting happily in your lap as he fixes dinner for the three of you is enough to create a steady warmth to grow beneath his beskar chest plate, and he’s beginning to have a hard time trying to push it away.

As for you, at first this had been frustrating. On Earth you considered yourself to be an excellent cook, but out in the galaxy you have no idea what you’re doing when it comes to food. You miss Earth food a great deal, but its undeniable that Mando is culinarily talented. Even with the meager ingredients he’s able to pull together, he somehow always manages to come up with something far more delicious than anything you’ve been able to pull off. The kid also seems to agree, usually trying to clamber his way up to sneak more servings for himself even if he’s already had several to begin with. Food could have easily been a necessity for survival, not something Mando ever sought to take pleasure out of. You’re immensely glad that’s not the way he sees it. Usually your mouth waters at the mere thought of his cooking. 

On this particular evening, the Mandalorian is making something involving broth and noodles. It reminds you of ramen from the looks of it. After a while of sitting on your crate, you decide to go migrate over to him so you can properly watch him cook. Normally you don't get this close when he cooks, but the need to feel close to the bounty hunter is too great this time and you give in to your instincts. The kid is being bounced on your hip with the little silver ball he likes to steal from the cockpit as you come to stand beside your cosmic companion. Mando has pretty much given up on taking the ball away at this point, but he told you that he once tried to enforce taking it away as much as he could. Clearly the kid won that battle.  

*****

Din feels you slide up beside him. He watches you juggle the kid on your right hip as if you’ve already been his nanny for many years, before you turn your attention from the little boy to smile up at Din with plump, slightly parted lips and those incredibly kind eyes of yours. Your kind little smile really is something else entirely. In all of his years, all his travels across the galaxy, Din has never met someone with such genuine kindness in their eyes.

The kid is holding up his silver ball to show it to his foster father, while saying something he clearly feels very strongly about in his nonsensical language of bubbling toddler-speak.

Din's helmeted head tilts from watching you bounce the child, to watch his foundling “talk” to him instead.

“Really?” Din says genuinely down to him in response, making an exaggerated face in spite of the kid not actually being able to see it, “You don’t say.” The little green boy smiles and coos back in delight. Din enjoys this mindless baby banter, but finds himself wondering out loud, “I wonder when you’re going to start talking, kid. It’d be nice to know what you’re saying one of these days.” 

“How old is he anyway?” You ask, not looking up from the baby wiggling around in your arms.

Din responds immediately, almost casually, “He’s 50 years old. That’s why I took the bounty on him in the first place, I had no idea he was a kid.”

You turn your head up so fast that he's sure he heard a bone in your neck crack. “50?! How is that even possible?” Your eyes scan over the tiny green thing as if you can’t possibly fathom it.

“His species lives a lot longer than ours. He’s still considered to be an infant regardless of his age. This little womp rat here will probably live to be hundreds of years old,” Din explains, gently poking an orange tipped finger on the child’s head.

You laugh then, shaking your head back down to the child on your hip. “And you can’t talk yet, nor can you wipe your own ass? You’re lucky you’re so adorable, little green bean.”

As he turns back to put the finishing touches on the meal, you keep your head tilted so that you can look at him from the corner of your eye. It isn’t lost on him that he’d called it “our” species, referring to both of the adults being human. He can feel you watching him, smirking as you suddenly say, “So you’re a human under there after all, huh Mando?”

Din’s head jerks over to look at you, his eyebrows raising beneath the helmet. Still not really a proper question about him, but it’s formed enough like one to get his attention. “What species did you think I was?” He counters seriously. 

“That was a joke,” you say, suddenly acting awkward. Perhaps you worry that you’ve offended him now, as your attitude becomes slightly dismissive and you turn to face away from him. It actually makes Din feel deeply disappointed to see you act so dispirited. 

“I figured you’re human, or at least humanoid. You’ve got five fingers on each hand,” you say nothing more on the subject as you continue to look away. 

Because your back is to him, Din’s eyes cannot help but land on your nice, firm backside. Truth be told... his eyes, deep brown and lusty beneath the beskar, do that a lot more than he’d readily admit. You’re wearing a black pair of what you’d once called “yoga pants” and they are... distracting to say the least.

Din curses lowly under his breath, vexed both with you and with your reluctance to talk to him about himself. He starts to play into it like he always does, pushing his irritation to the side and letting it go, telling himself its ultimately for the best not to get too close. But then you shift your footing and he watches as your ass shifts with it, rippling over to the left with the lightest of jiggles. Something within him shifts as well, and Din decides right then and there to just get the hell on with it. He sets the cooking utensils down and reduces the heat, before moving towards you.

*****

You’re fully aware of every movement behind you without needing to turn around. You can sense Mando turning the heat on the food down before coming towards you. When you feel the height of him just a foot or so behind you, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The warm sensation returns low down in your belly, and your palms begin to moisten slightly. You’re not sure whether to face him or not. Deciding on the latter, you keep your back to him. 

His modulated voice hovers about six or so inches above your head, “Why is it that you never ask me anything?”

That warmth in your belly becomes a steady heat at the sound of his voice. Squashing that down as best as you can, you sit the kid down on the floor and spin back around to face him. You’re very used to speaking to the helmet by now, and you see yourself raise an eyebrow in its reflective surface. You’d heard the way he’d asked it, but you decide to play dumb, “I ask you stuff all the time, Mando. I just asked about the kid a second ago! Sometimes I worry that it’s actually annoying.” 

“If it was constant it would be,” he says honestly, head tilting ever so slightly to the right as his forearms cross just over his abdomen. “But, no. Not annoying. I know how... different this galaxy is for you, and it is a dangerous place. The more you know, the less I have to worry about saving your ass from something you could have prevented yourself.”

That head tilt to the right is most certainly a sign of him smirking under there, you’re willing to bet your Bowie t-shirt on it. And your knees wobble a little at the sound of his voice making a passing mention of your ass. If only he knew how deeply your depravity ran, of the things you’ve fantasized about him doing to your ass.

Face flushed, you force yourself to recover, “So what’s the deal then, chrome dome?”

He retorts evenly with, “You ask me about everything under the stars aside from, well, me. I’d like to know why.”

That’s not really what you’d expected at all, and it leaves you floored for a quick moment. So he noticed how hard you’d been trying to avoid that particular subject after all. You think about it earnestly before looking right in the visor, once again hitting your mark without even knowing it. 

“You’re obviously a very private person,” you say, gesturing up to the helmet, “I may not understand that, but I can respect it. It would be wildly inappropriate for me to bombard you with personal questions. I’m your guest and since I may very well never find a way to make it back to my home world, I’d rather not overstay my welcome on this ship too quickly.”

*****

Din’s head doesn’t move, but his shoulders soften slightly. “That’s...” he trails off, considering what he’s about to say next, “kind of you, to respect my privacy. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to be afraid to ask. You’re a curious woman, so I’m sure you have your questions. If you get too personal or if you do bother me too much at once, then I reserve the right not to answer you.”

You look up at him through thick lashes while your parted lips form into a small, shy grin. Din feels it then, something that had been long dormant within him before the day you came into his life. Pure, unadulterated, desire. 

It stirs low inside of him like one of Nevarro’s lava pits, boiling steadily and beginning to crack at his once steely reserve. This is certainly not the first time a reaction like this has spurred within him, but this is by far some of the strongest attraction he’s ever felt towards another person. Din’s had a handful of encounters with women of various species over the years, and perhaps even felt a substantial sense of attraction to a few of them in his younger days, but never anything nearly so powerful as the aching, desperate need he feels when he looks down at you in this moment. 

Then you reach your hand out towards him, towards the beskar pauldron on his right shoulder and your mouth opens as if to begin speaking. He quickly assumes that you’re about to ask him about the armor itself, what it’s made of. Technically still not an actual question about him. Frustrated and genuinely disappointed, Din begins to prepare himself to begrudgingly explain the beskar to you, until you bypass the pauldron itself to trace a tentative finger over the signet there instead.

You delicately run the tip of your index finger over the mudhorn skull, looking up at him to meet the visor with that look of wonder Din is so powerless against. He might as well be tossed into a Tatooine sarlacc pit right in that moment. He’s done for, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.

“What’s this represent?” You ask softly, running your finger up the length of the long horn. “I’ve wondered about it since we met. I can tell it’s the skull of an animal, but does it mean something special to you?” You chuckle a little, casting your eyes down to the symbol again, “We have an animal that kind of looks like this on Earth. It also has a horn on the end of its snout but not quite so huge. It’s called a rhinoceros.”

“Rhinoceros,” Din repeats the foreign word slowly, stumbling over some of the pronunciation. What an odd name for an animal.

You laugh brightly at hearing the word on his tongue, grinning up at him, “Rhino for short. I assume that this thing is probably gigantic in comparison to the thing on Earth, just like a lot of things in this galaxy seem to be.”

“It’s called a mudhorn,” he says simply after letting you ramble, “I had to kill one in battle, so it became my signet. My clan insignia, clan Mudhorn.”

*****

You feel a pit in the bottom of your stomach form at that. If clan means the same thing out here as it does back on Earth, then he’s referring to his family. Does Mando have some family back on some planet that he’s never mentioned? Swallowing the lump in your dry throat, and though the childish part of you doesn't even want to know the answer, you ask him, “How many people are in your clan?”

But then Mando scoops the kid up as the little bugger runs between the two of you, and the helmet again fixes on you as he says, “Just two.” 

Your heart just about turns to pudding within your chest right there. It’s all you can do not to clutch a hand to your collarbone and make a noise of endearment. The kid is truly all the Mandalorian has in this world? And one day he’ll inevitably have to give the green toddler up if they ever find his own kind? The muscle pumping blood through your body both swells and breaks for Mando all at once.

Deciding not to press your luck and that one question is enough for now, you’re satisfied with this new information about your mysterious cosmic companion for the time being.

But then he surprises you by saying, “If you’d like to join me up in the cockpit after I take my meal, I could tell you more about it.”

You’re sure the surprise is evident on your face, but you smile regardless, “I’d like that,” is all you can say.

No one speaks after that. He portions out a bowl of food for the three of you and hands you yours, making you feel nervous as your hand brushes against his glove. You thank him for dinner and he nods in a silent welcome before quickly making his way up to the cockpit. You’re a giddy mess as you scramble to deposit a protein pack in Jupiter’s bowl and situate yourself with the kid to eat your own meals. You’re so wound up that you barely want to eat, but force yourself to do so anyway. You let the kid have what you can’t finish.

*****

Up in the cockpit the helmet drops to the ground with a loud thunk before he’s even in his seat. Din has never eaten so quickly in his life.

*****

Within ten minutes he’s calling down to you that you can come up when you’re ready, and in a gesture you know all too well at this point, his gloves appear from the opening in the ceiling for the kid. He passes his empty bowl down, and you thank him for supper as you then pass the kid up to him in exchange. You have to excuse yourself to the fresher to pull yourself together before joining them upstairs.

When you eventually do make your way up to the cockpit, you take your usual seat behind and to the left of the Mandalorian. He turns the pilot’s seat to face you while the kid sits in the other passenger seat, too happily occupied by the silver ball to notice the adults’ growing tension in the tiny control room. Mando could be making stupid faces under that thing for all you know, but you’re willing to bet he’s fixing you with some sort of serious look. It causes you to squirm in your seat, flushing as you look away from him shyly.

Even on Earth, there had never been a single, solitary man who had this much of an inaugural effect on you. Mando’s got steady a hold over you already, and you’re pretty sure you’re reaching that point of being willing to do almost anything in order to be close to him. You suddenly find yourself desperately wanting to take care of him in some way, to show some sort of affection in the way you know best.

*****

“Would you like to hear about the mudhorn?” Din asks, looking from you to the kid. Does he want to tell you the truth about the kid? He's pretty sure he can trust that you are who you say you are at this point, and that you harbor no secret ill will towards the child. You’re not going to suddenly turn him in to the Empire. Hell, you probably still don’t even understand what the Empire used to be, let alone what the shambles of it are now. 

When he looks back to you, you nod in the affirmative, “Only if you want to tell me.”

*****

You’re surprised by his willingness to tell you this story, and you’re equally surprised by how long he makes the act of telling it. Mando is a man a few words generally, and this is the most you’ve heard him use his handsome sounding voice in one sitting since the two of you met. Usually you’re the one doing the talking, telling long winded stories. But because he is a man of few words Mando chooses them very carefully, and so he’s able to paint a fairly clear picture in your head of the events which led to the mudhorn. Kuill and the blurrgs. Finding the kid, returning to the Razor Crest to find it scrapped by Jawas, chasing said Jawas down and having them demand the egg of a mudhorn in return for the ship’s parts. Then he tells you about getting his ass handed to him by the mama mudhorn, nearly dying in the process, before the kid saved him.

“What do you mean the kid saved you?” You ask, incredulously looking over at the toddler as he still continues to suck on the silver ball and babble to himself. “Is that some kind of metaphor for, like, what you were missing in your life?”

*****

“What? No, not like that.” Din says with a shake of the head, though something in your words rings true for him in the back of his mind. “The kid, he can do things. Has... abilities.”

Again you look to the child, and your jaw drops open, “Like he’s got superpowers? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Hey, watch the language in front of the kid,” Din says sternly, “He can do things with his mind. You need to know about it incase he ever does it in front of you. Usually it’s a defensive thing, but I’ve also seen him use it to cause trouble.”

*****

You gloss over the thing about the kid for a moment, focusing instead on the light scolding you’d just received. He hadn’t been rude about it, in fact the dad-like way he’d said it makes you smile. “I thought you guys don’t even have that word in basic,” you say, laughing.

“You say it enough that I was able to gather it’s inappropriate nature from the connotation in which you use it. What does it mean, anyway?” He asks, curious.

Embarrassed slightly, and not wanting to think about the way you’d love to hear him say that particular word to you, you shake your head. “That’s an adults-only explanation... So back to the little superhero over there?”

“That’s all. He used his magic powers or whatever they are to stop the mudhorn from charging me, and I was able to kill it. We retrieved the egg, and I got my parts back.” Mando replies, and you still can’t wrap your head around that tiny thing having abilities. 

It’s not that you don’t believe it. You’ve been sucked through a man-made black hole in your grandfather’s basement and ended up stranded billions of light years away from home. Of course you believe it, you just don’t know how that could come out of something so precious and innocent. 

“Well that’s certainly not what I thought you were going to tell me,” you breathe out with a shake of the head, “I’m shocked.”

The Mandalorian actually laughs a little beneath the helmet, “Imagine my shock. That thing was floating off the ground. Poor kid slept for a few days after.”

“Poor fella,” you say, standing to scoop the kid up for an embrace. You begin bouncing him back and forth while making your way to stand beside the pilots seat as Mando turns it back to face forward. “It’s hard work protecting your dad from big, scary mudhorns, huh?” The kid just babbles up at you, and you hand the silver ball over to Mando so it can be screwed back into the shift. 

“What happened after that?” You ask, wanting to know everything about him now that you know he’s willing to tell you.

“That’s a story for another time,” Mando says while reaching with his right arm to screw the ball in. The injury in his shoulder from the previous week must have flared up then, causing him to hiss out, “Dank farrik,” under his breath. You'd noticed that he's been using that arm with extra care for a few days, and when he got ack from that last hunt it seemed like it was hurting him fairly substantially. You'd noticed, but you hadn't felt comfortable saying anything. 

You can’t help yourself, though, after hearing him curse. Grinning, you say, “Language in front of the kid, Mando.” 

“I deserve that,” he says, still hissing in pain as he slowly pulls his arm back with a groan, opening and closing his fingers several times.

“I’m kidding. Are you okay?” You ask, genuinely concerned for him.

He nods, “Pulled my shoulder hunting the last quarry. Still sore.”

You set the baby back down on the passenger seat and return to Mando’s side, “That was almost a week ago, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” he says somewhat curtly, "I've had worse."

“Well it doesn’t help that you’ve been sleeping up here for well over a month. That can’t be comfortable,” you suddenly feel incredibly guilty for having taken his bed, “Please take the cot back tonight, I’d hate to see you make it any worse. I’ll find somewhere else.”

“No,” he argues again, “I’ll be fine.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “So the men in this galaxy are stubborn too, huh? And here I thought that was just an Earth thing.” 

*****

Din doesn't know what to say to that, so he says nothing, which elicits an exasperated sigh from you. He suddenly feels your hand on his right pauldron for the second time that night, but this time it begins to pull. His own hand flies up to catch yours and the helmet snaps up at you while the leather covered fingers around your hand apply a light amount of pressure. This is the most he’s ever touched you, and you're both aware of it. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, halting your movements. 

*****

“Relax,” you draw out the word, “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. You need that shoulder rubbed, and I can’t do that for you with your armor on.” Feeling rather brave, you bend to hover your head beside the helmet, placing both hands on the pauldron and pulling lightly at it again. You drop your voice down an octave, softly saying, “Let me take care of you, Mando.”

*****

Those words again leave Din at a loss for any of his own, and his hand melts back down to his lap. He doesn’t stop you when you pull his pauldron off completely, setting it down carefully on the seat you usually sit in. He lets you do the same to the vambrace on his forearm, using his other hand to help you get it off. His entire right arm suddenly feels so bare without the beskar, in spite of still being covered in layers of clothing. 

“Can you take the cloak off too?” You ask, voice nervous. This is quickly becoming uncharted territory.

Din complies, taking he beskar off of his left arm as well before handing all of it over to you. You set everything down so gingerly that Din can sense how much you respect his armor just from the delicate way you handle it. “Thank you. For being so careful with that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of messing it up. What’s this stuff made of anyway? It’s lighter than I expected it to be.”

“Mandalorian beskar. It’s one of the most indestructible substances in the galaxy, and weighs less than most common metals.”

“Like vibrianium! Heh, that’s awesome,” you laugh. 

“Let me guess. Earth thing?”

“You got it.”

Din is too lost in the idle conversation to realize how bare he truly is at first, but this is certainly the most exposed he’s ever been around you. As you’ve been talking, everything on his torso aside from the thin, long sleeved undershirt and his gloves have been simultaneously removed and placed in the passenger seat. He finds himself wondering how he suddenly let it come to this.

Maker, it’s been so long since he’s been touched. His stomach is doing strange things inside of his body, his skin tingling all over. 

*****

You are similarly wondering the same thing, as you look down and get the tiniest glimpse of skin on the back of his neck. A small sliver of flesh tucked between his shirt collar and the base of the helmet. It appears to be tan, which should suggest that he’s naturally so. You highly doubt he has ever laid half naked in the sun just to vainly darken his skin tone, but that’s a sight you’d surely love to see. That little bit of skin nearly breaks you, but you ignore it.

Coming to stand directly behind the pilot’s seat, you instruct him to lean forward slightly and he complies. Your hands come to rest on either of his shoulders, and you suddenly catch a whiff of that scent from the cot. His scent. You breathe it in, and begin knead in your knuckles into his back. You start in near his spine and push both up and out, when a loud noise that sounds almost pained escapes him. You can see your own surprised expression in the silver reflection on the back of his head, moving your thumbs to rub circles into the base of his neck, just below the exposed patch of skin.

“Are you okay?” You pause to check on him

“Keep going,” he grunts out, and so you do.

You work at his shoulders for a good five minutes, focusing extra attentiveness on the shoulder he’s having trouble with. He makes noises here and there, but other than that you both stay fairly quiet. After you’ve given his shoulder enough attention, you work both of your hands slowly down his right arm. Your thumbs press into the knotted bicep, then the tricep, and Mando’s usually tense body practically liquefies into the seat under your grasp. 

“Has anyone ever done this for you?” You ask seriously, making your way now down to his tight forearm.

“No,” he says after a moment, groaning when you hit a particularly sensitive knot, “Never-gah- never had anyone offer.”

“Never? Their loss,” you say, pulling his arm up towards you to stretch it out straight. He lets you guide him easily. “Does your hand hurt as well?”

Mando nods, and without prompting you kneel down beside him to get at a better angle and begin tentatively undoing the strap of his glove. Your fingers stall around his wrist as your eyes meet the visor, wordlessly asking for his permission for what you’re about to do, and he nods again. It hitches in your throat slightly, but you take a deep breath regardless to prepare yourself to cross this next line. 

Tugging at the clay colored tips, you begin to gently pull the glove from his hand. The skin revealed beneath the leather is the same tan as the skin on the back of his neck, solidifying your theory that this is a natural occurrence. The knuckles are slightly dry, with small scars resting in between some of the rough peaks of bone and dark hairs dusting the fleshy terrain. The glove falls to his lap as you remove it completely, examining each finger carefully before flipping his hand entirely so you can examine his palm. All the usual lines and finger prints are there, and there’s an old burn scar just below his thumb where his wrist and palm meet. It looks like the initial wound had been a nasty one. You run your own thumb over it and look at the helmet again.

“How did you get this?” You ask.

“Don’t remember. Have so many that I lose track,” he replies.

“You have nice hands,” you say casually, not surprised when he says nothing in return. Instead you make yourself focus on the work, pressing into the palm and making your way up each finger with equal attention to each digit. His thumb pops when you unintentionally pull on it just the right way, and his entire body jerks forward a little. 

This goes on for another few moments, until your own hand begins to cramp up on you. You pull it back suddenly, cracking your middle finger with a low hiss before yanking on your own thumb and spinning your wrist a few times.

“You okay?” Mando asks, sitting up slightly to look at you.

“Yeah just my hand cramping. I may need to call it quits,” you say, beginning to pull away before he stops you. For a moment his bare hand is just holding yours, and your mouth begins to severely dry up.

“Wait, let me. This hand?” Mando says, and you simply nod, dumbstruck. He quickly pulls the glove off of his other hand, and begins kneading both of his bare thumbs into your palm. “So soft,” he murmurs to himself, though you can hear him clear as day. Neither of you address it.

“Good grief,” you mutter as he hits the sore spot below your thumb, holding back a moan.

The Mandalorian mimics the same way you had massaged his hand, working his way slowly up each one of your slender fingers until he reaches the painted nails. It’s over in a matter of minutes and you eventually pull your hand back to shake it a few times, wiggling your fingers. When the audacity of what just happened occurs to you, you cannot help but blush. You’re still kneeling down beside Mando, looking up at the helmet bashfully. 

“Thank you,” you say, casting your eyes back down to his unconfined hands. To your great shock, his right hand reaches out to run over your hair, moving some of it out of your face. The gesture feels so intimate that you nearly choke.

“Likewise, ner burc’ya.” he says lowly.

Puzzled by hearing him speak what is obviously another language, you look to him for an explanation. “What does that mean?” 

“It’s Mando’a for ‘my friend’,” he explains in a tone that brings heat to your cheeks. "Mando'a is the language of my people."

Then he pulls away to begin replacing the gloves over his hands. You’re disheartened slightly both that he’s no longer touching you and to see his mesmerizing skin disappear once more. You cannot help the sudden longing you feel to see more of it, and in very particular places.

“How’s your shoulder?” You ask, standing to grab the suddenly tired looking kid and bring him over to the Mandalorian, knowing full well how much Mando likes to hold the kid as he falls asleep. This has never been discussed between you, but you know it to be true.

*****

“Better, still not great,” Din says honestly, reaching for the increasingly sleepy toddler. 

“I think you should sleep in the cot tonight,” you insist again, “and I’m not really willing to take no for an answer.”

Din looks up to where you stand beside him, fixing him with a pointed look. He knows it’s probably not worth arguing, and he does miss being able to lay out properly. “What about you?”

You wave him off, “I’ll make due, isn’t that what you said to me? You deserve a good night of sleep too, Mando. Especially if there’s another quarry only two days away. You'll need your strength.”

Din decides that you have a point, and nods, “Fine. Just for a few hours.”

Your eyes roll unceremoniously, “For fuck’s sake, sleep for as long as you need to.”

***** 

As Din climbs into the cot later that night, the scent you've left behind is completely overwhelming. Even with his helmet on, your natural aroma is so distinct. Some of your things are strewn about inside, as you’ve clearly made yourself at home over the past several weeks. There’s the small bottle of that strange black liquid you like to decorate your nails with, as well as a dark purple outer garment you wear almost daily. You’ve told him it’s called a “hoodie” and it's intended to keep you warm. Still too thin for space travel if you ask him. The personal device you frequently use is hanging up in a storage net.

Though you’ve managed to make the cot seem more comfortable with the addition of a real a pillow and blanket, everyone on the ship is well aware that a real bed would be far more preferable. 

The kid would usually already be asleep in the hammock above Din’s head by now, but you’d suggested letting him sleep in the pram for the night so that Din could get some sleep of his own without interruption. So once the door slides shut behind him, he’s completely alone. Din normally just sleeps with the helmet on for fear of not wanting to be woken up off guard without it, but something makes him slide the thing off of his head and place it in the storage net hanging on the back wall next to your backpack, soon followed by his gloves. He’s without his boots already and still without the beskar on his torso, all more suggestions of yours. You’d sternly told him you expected him to get as comfortable as possible, and so Din complies with this demand. 

Your scent is one of the most wonderful things Din has ever experienced. Without the helmet on, his sense of smell is assaulted by you. He can’t help himself as he lifts the black blanket up to his uncovered face, inhaling as much of you as he possibly can. When his head hits the pillow he also can’t help but to nuzzle his nose into the soft fabric, breathing in your essence as if it is the very oxygen his body needs in order to live. 

Din falls asleep clutching your purple hoodie to his chest, while thinking about how soft your hand felt in comparison to his.

*****

When he wakes several hours later, Din takes one last instant to enjoy the aroma around him without the barrier of beskar. His dark eyes slip closed as he savors the moment, before replacing the helmet to its rightful perch on his head and making his way out of the cot to find you and the kid. His boots are waiting for him just outside, so he slips those on as he looks around. There’s no sign of either of you anywhere on the first floor of the ship, not even the cat.  

Din climbs up to the second floor to look for you, the cockpit door sliding open with the usual swishing sound. The overhead lights have been dimmed to nothing, so the only real light is coming from the various illuminated buttons up front. At first he walks in far enough only to notice that the empty pram is in the kid’s usual seat, and his beskar is still where he’d left it in yours. He stops right in his tracks once he gets far enough inside to actually see you, his chest swelling almost painfully at the sight before his eyes.

You’re curled up in the pilot’s seat at an angle that has got to be doing horrendous things to your back, one leg tucked underneath your ass while the other is propped up on an area of the control panel without any actual controls. The kid is sleeping soundly on your chest, his ears turned down in a relaxed position with his head turned to face Din’s direction. A green fist is curled up tightly in your shirt, while the kid’s little mouth hangs open and the tiniest bit of drool escapes out the side and onto the fabric. 

Also sleeping soundly, you’ve got your head of wild hair leaning back into the seat’s headrest as your own mouth hangs open a little. One arm is draped protectively around the kid, and the other dangles uselessly off the side of the armrest. Din’s cloak is draped around the two of you as a makeshift blanket, and the cat is curled up into a ball of fluff on your lap, just below the kid. One of Jupiter’s tawny eyes opens to look skeptically up at him, before she closes it again and readjusts her sleeping position. 

The image of this, the emotions it stirs within him, leaves Din’s head nearly ringing from the intensity of it. This quiet moment of serene hyperspace dancing in the background of his ship, of his home. You, easily most beautiful woman he’s ever met, holding his sleeping foundling to your breast. His cloak draped around the two of you, almost symbolic of what this little group is slowly beginning to mean to him.

A whisper of a thought begins to prick at the back of his mind then. A dangerous, self destructive thought which can surely lead Din Djarin down a path of heartache should he let things get out of hand. 

Once he hears his own voice murmur the words inside his head, he realizes that things were already well out of hand when it had only been him and the kid. Now, with the addition of you in the equation, it’s actually becoming quite the complicated situation. Din is now in a very treacherous new land, the thought echoing once more through his mind before he pushes it as far away as he can.

Don’t want them to leave...

*****

Next Chapter

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Masterlist

[cephalonserotonin]

Devstream 179 Notes

Thank you for your patience as I get this out about a week late; I've had multiple family obligations the past few weeks which have, alas, cut into my warframe time.

Apparently the Stug is a Top Gear reference (Kaz is wearing a motorcycle helmet and doesn't speak for a good 20 minutes, it's actually kind of annoying) A new devstream face on the left: Nikita, principal weapons artist!

1999 Hype Dripfeed

(to catch up those unaware: first referenced in last year's tennocon, and barely begun in the Whispers in the Walls update, Warframe 1999 is the game's "next chapter," unexpectedly taking place during what seems to be the age of the apple II and Y2K, featuring "protoframes" and the good works of Nine Inch Nails.)

Tennocon 2024 merch is retro 1999 and awesome: the physical merch pack includes a very cool USB key, and the digital pack includes a dope syandana

YAY the Aoi teaser, it is absolutely worth rewatching

Concept art for Arthur, Aoi, PINK ATOMICYCLE!

Protea Prime next this week

Protea Prime herself and her awesome trailer have come out since I took these notes, so I'm just going to link the prime access trailer and website promo instead of my usual preview descriptions. Definitely watch the trailer, it's....inspiring. We've had such banging soundtracks for the prime trailers lately!

May 15 "Interim" Update:

Will bring next season of Nightwave; the current season will end on that day, and the next will start two hours later (on the same day; how nice, I hate waiting that extra week). Comes with a set of "daybreak" skins for the nukor, glaive, kubrows (?), and the ✨CEDO✨(my Lavos bias comes through)

Some tennogen skins, nice to see skins for less represented boys Revenant and Baruuk. There will be another batch of tennogen in the Jade Shadows that includes a skin for Lavos (hype).

💚 Update 36: Jade Shadows💚

Lore focusing on the Stalker coming from a Post-TNW perspective

I got really excited because Rebb used "they" for the Stalker (who I think has always previously been he/himd?)

Jade: the 57th warframe! She's somewhat but not wholly angelic: light is the theme, but there is "choral flavour." Pablo describes her kit as "support and debuffing enemies"

Lore focusing on the Stalker coming from a Post-TNW perspective

I got really excited because Rebb used "they" for the Stalker (who I think has always previously been he/himd?)

Jade: the 57th warframe! She's somewhat but not wholly angelic: light is the theme, but there is "choral flavour." Pablo describes her kit as "support and debuffing enemies"

Honestly I think her wings are giving more Peacock

They wanted to include more direct visual inspiration on the Stalker's weapons but they were determined "too edgy" lol. But they're still Stalker-inspired. She has Evensong (Jade!Dread, which I'm especially excited for), Cantare (Jade!Despair, which I hope has better stats than the OG), and Harmony (Jade!Hate)

The Stalker has a Landing Craft Skin called "Terror." Which is very cohesive with the rest of the Stalker aesthetic.

Operation: Belly of the Beast: A clan operation that will launch with Jade Shadows.

There's a new eximus :( the Jade Light Eximus :( "Parvos Granum is up to something" 😨

also Yareli Deluxe is a thing

As an aside, Kaz, freed from the Stug bit, is rocking the Gideon Nav energy 😎

Another helping of QOL:

Adjusting the "rubber" necks of frames: "Warframes aren't prey, they're predators".

Alchemy in the circuit! As an enjoyer of both the alchemy game mode and the circuit (and not a fan of its defense or assassination), this is welcome for me!

Apparently the AI level changes are important for crossplay; "a bouquet of QOL" that will bring a better experience for many.

Medical debt bond drop rates adjusting includes a replacement for the credits reward in bounties. and there was much rejoicing.

Here Comes Pablo's Rant: impending enemy scaling & status effects rework

As with all of Pablo's mechanics overviews, I recommend watching (or reading) this yourself if you want a deeper look. He's always very informative.

"A lot of this may change" off to a great start

Devs are considering adding a damage cap for enemy armor and adjusting the damage resistance function of armor. reasoning: armor strip should be a viable strategy but not an absolute requirement for higher level play.

Status type mechanics will be simplified: type effectiveness bonuses are now going to be by faction instead of by flesh/armor/shield material -> with exceptions:: Kuva Grineer, Amalgam Corpus, Deimos Infested

Buffing some less used status effects: Cold will now fully freeze enemies, which doubles crit bonus Gas will be more visible visually (but mechanically the same) Magnetic…will depend on how the shield rework goes (yay playtesting). Blast "will be blasty." I've been hoping for a Blast buff for AGES so I'm excited to see what we get from that admittedly very vague teaser.

You can tell he knows the fanbase is already going to flame him for even coming close to nerfing viral/heat/slash, because he said several times they are not being altered. We love you Pablo.

Semi-auto weapons are going to have automatic (not needing to re-click) shooting mode, but (similarly with the shield gating rework last year) you'll be able to keep your semiautomatic flavour with a new mod that disables this new functionality in exchange for a big buff. Effectively replacing Shred with another high-damage, high-punch-through mod.

Key art is from Warframe's official devstream overview; stream screenshots are my own.

[roseunspindle]

Interesting Baby Names

In no particular order or gender

Josepha - feminine form of Joseph - He shall add; God shall add

Aphrodite - Greek Goddess of Love - Sea Foam

Wilhelmina - derived from the Germanic wil, meaning "will, desire" and helm, meaning "helmet, protection".

Ealhswith - Name of the Wife and Queen of Alfred the Great, first King of unified England. - One who is lucky and fertile

Aether - Greek god of light and the upper atmosphere - Brightness; Bright upper sky

Ecgwynna - sword joy

Ælfflæd - elf beauty

Eadred - wealth, fortune; prosperous

Apollo - God of music, arts, knowledge, healing, plague, prophecy, poetry, manly beauty, and archery. - Destroyer

Iridium -  A very hard, brittle, silvery-white transition metal of the platinum group, it is considered the second-densest naturally occurring metal - rainbow

Agate - Agate is a variety of chalcedony, a cryptocrystalline form of quartz. Translucency, patterns of color, or moss-like inclusions may distinguish this stone from other forms of chalcedony. - street or "at the gate"

Ares - Greek God of courage, war, bloodshed, and violence. - Ruin; Throng of battle, war

Cymry - The modern Welsh name for themselves is Cymry "fellow countrymen"

Cymru - Welsh name for Wales

Emma - entire or universal

Ruthenium - has four crystal modifications and does not tarnish at ambient conditions, a chemical element, It is a rare transition metal belonging to the platinum group of the periodic table - derives from the Latin ruthenia for the old name of Russia

Amber - the hardened resin of pine trees, People have been making amber jewelry for over 10,000 years, which could make it the first gem material ever used.

Artemis - Greek Virgin goddess of the hunt, wilderness, animals, the Moon and young girls. - Butcher

Cypress - A tree, It ultimately derives from the Ancient Greek name Kyparissos or Cyparissus, which was the name of a young boy in Greek mythology.

Sweyn - Scandinavian origin that means Boy. Sweyn is a medieval form of Sven

Gunhilda - Germanic feminine given name composed of two words meaning "war"

Beryllium - chemical element, It is a steel-gray, strong, lightweight and brittle alkaline earth metal.  The metal has a sweet tatse. The etymology of its name comes from the Greek "Beryllos", beryl ore. 

Amethyst - is crystalline quartz in colors ranging from pale lilac to deep reddish purple. February Birthstone. Means “intoxicate” because it was believed the amethyst stone could protect its bearer from drunkenness.

Sansa - My favorite GOT character. Sanskrit origin. It means "praise" and "charm,".

Rhaenyra - My favorite HOTD character

Cornelia - means "horn"

River - a flowing body of water, english origin

Athena - Greek Goddess of reason, wisdom, intelligence, skill, peace, warfare, battle strategy, and handicrafts. "from athens"

Sigrid - scandinavian - beautiful victory

Gytha - warlike

Matilda - Mighty in Battle

Silver - white; Shining, metal, often used in jewelry and currency

Aquamarine - Named after the color of sea water, aquamarine is the blue to blue-green member of the beryl family. Modern march birthstone.

Cedar - a tree

Demeter - Greek Goddess of grain, agriculture, harvest, growth, and nourishment. Earth Lover

Dionysus - God of wine, fruitfulness, parties, festivals, madness, chaos, drunkenness, vegetation, ecstasy, and the theater. From Greek Διός (Dios) meaning "of Zeus" combined with Nysa, the name of the region where young Dionysos was said to have been raised.

Juniper - evergreen

Rose - flower, Rose was originally a Norman form of a German name Hrodheid, composed of the words Hrod ("fame") and Heid ("kind", "type").

Adeliza - Of Noble Kin

Hades - Greek God and King of the underworld and the dead. He is also a god of wealth. "Unseen"

Hephaestus - Greek God of fire, metalworking, and crafts. 

Hera - Greek goddess and Queen of the gods, and goddess of women, marriage, childbirth, heirs, kings, and empires. protectress

Cassowary - originates from two Papuan words: 'kasu' (meaning horned) and 'wari' (meaning head) - a very awesome bird.

Azurite - blue stone, often mixed with green malachite

Clara - “bright” and “famous”

Berengaria - maiden of the bear-spear

Peppermint - Peppermint (Mentha × piperita) is a hybrid species of mint, a cross between watermint and spearmint.

Beryl - From the name of a green mineral, varietes of which are the precious stones, emerald and aquamarine. From the Greek beryllos, meaning "colour of the sea".

Rapunzel - "rampion; lamb's lettuce" - fairytale princess with long hair

Chrysoberyl - cat's eye

Ruyi - as one wishes (chinese origin)

Hermes - greek God of boundaries, travel, trade, communication, language, writing, cunning and thieves. - messenger

Mercury - liquid metal, Roman counterpart to Hermes.

Hestia - Virgin goddess of the hearth, home, domesticity and chastity. "hearth" "fireside"

Emerald - persian in origin - "green"

Hurrem - funny, cheerful, merry, pleasant, happy, glad; fresh, green, bright, blooming (persian)

Persephone - Greek Goddess of spring, Queen of the Underworld - Bringer of death

Poseidon - greek God of the sea, rivers, floods, droughts, and earthquakes. husband of the earth

Zeus - greek King of the gods, ruler of Mount Olympus, and god of the sky, weather, thunder, lightning, law, order, and justice. Sky; Shine

Aion - The greek god of eternity, personifying cyclical and unbounded time.

Samael - god has heard, sometimes associated with Lucifer/Satan

Gabriel - god is my strength,  an archangel with the power to announce God's will to mankind

Gaia - greek goddess/titaness personification of the earth

Nyx - greek The goddess and personification of the night.

Zerachiel  - God has remembered, archangel who leads souls to judgement -  Zachariel, Zakhariel, Saraqael

Thalassa - greek Personification of the sea

[foximator-blog]

If skylanders supercharger have exclusive characters to PlayStation and Xbox like the Wii U, what characters you think would be pick?

Let's hypothetically go with a Hero Villain Combo on this, like how they usually seem to do it.

For X-box, I nominate Banjo & Kazooie as the hero slot, as Air type. And for the Villain spot Gruntilda as an Undead type.

Banjo and Kazooie will be known as Egg Bomber Banjo & Kazooie. Banjo would wear a pilot jacket and goggles and Kazooie would have on a full pilot helmet. Their two modes for their gimmick are "Egg-Zooka* where they use a bazooka based on the egg guns from Banjo Kazooie nuts and bolts (Shorter range, but stronger and over a wider area), and Breegull Blaster where Banjo uses Kazooie like a rifle (Longer range and faster, but slightly weaker at close quarters). Their vehicle is a plane called the Banjo Bomber, based on his plane from Banjo pilot, and would be a life type vehicle. When supercharged Kazooie will man a hidden turret in the back and the plane will take a sleek red and gold appearance with feathered details.

Gruntilda will be known as "Curse Crafter Gruntilda" and her two modes swap between a focus on sorcery based attacks and machinist based attacks in reference to how she's both a magical and industrial force to be reckoned with in the Banjo Kazooie games. Her Nasty "Hag Driller" is based on the drill tank from Banjo Tooie and when supercharged, it takes a much sleeker black appearance with eerie green glowing spots and purple mist bellowing out. It's an Earth type. (There seems to be a pattern with the guest star character's vehicle being a different element from it's owner, and I decided not to copy what Bowser and DK have)

For Playstation... Maybe Rachet and Clank together as Tech, and Sack boy as Magic. To break the rule I was setting for myself at first admittedly. Ratchet and Clank would be called "Galactic Rachet and Clank", and their mode swapping mechanic would tag them between which of them is in the lead. With their "Primary" and "Support" attacks swapping based on who's in the lead. Their vehicle the Astral Cruiser, is a light type flying space ship.

Sackboy would be known as "Master Maker Sackboy" to really go in on the arts and craft motif. His modes being based on different arts and crafts. His vehicle would be the "Super Bubbler" a water type boat with a focus on bubbles for it's attacks and abilities.

[newstodayread]

One of the year’s best movies was filmed in first person

RaMell Ross, a visual artist turned filmmaker, challenges traditional storytelling in his latest film, "Nickel Boys," which employs an innovative first-person perspective to convey a deeply intimate narrative about two Black teenagers at a brutal reform school during the Jim Crow South. In a cinematic landscape that has periodically embraced first-person camerawork, Ross’s film stands out by eschewing the typical reliance on visceral violence and instead offering a poignant exploration of human connection. Adapted from Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, "Nickel Boys" alternates between the viewpoints of Elwood (Ethan Herisse) and Turner (Brandon Wilson), revealing their contrasting outlooks amidst the harsh realities of their surroundings.

Innovative Storytelling Through POV

Each shot in "Nickel Boys" is crafted primarily through the eyes of its protagonists. When viewers see through Elwood's perspective, they often find themselves gazing at Turner, and vice versa. This unique approach not only immerses the audience into the characters’ experiences but also highlights the film’s themes of hope and survival within a punishing environment. The commitment to this perspective lasts nearly the entire two hours and twenty minutes, interrupted only by brief archival footage and flash-forwards. The film is already generating buzz ahead of its theatrical release this Friday, with festival screenings leading critics to speculate about its potential success during award season. According to Vulture's Nate Jones, "Nickel Boys" is projected to compete for Best Picture and Best Director at the Academy Awards. Additionally, a New York Times critic lauded it as the year's top film, while Ross recently received accolades from the New York Film Critics Circle, a precursor to major industry awards.

From Visual Artist to Filmmaker

Before "Nickel Boys," Ross made waves with his documentary "Hale County This Morning, This Evening," which captures the lives of two Black students in Alabama over five years. The film defied conventional narrative structure, leaning into an impressionistic style that earned it an Academy Award nomination despite it being nontraditional in form. After the recognition from "Hale County," Ross returned to his work in visual arts but soon found himself drawn back into filmmaking when approached in 2019 about adapting "Nickel Boys." The novel, which fictionalizes the real-life horrors experienced at the Dozier School for Boys, resonated deeply with Ross, who envisioned capturing its harrowing essence through a first-person lens. Collaborating with the esteemed production company Plan B, known for films like "12 Years a Slave" and "Moonlight," Ross pitched his ambitious idea, ultimately receiving enthusiastic support for his vision. “They genuinely did not flinch,” he recalled, reflecting on their readiness to embrace the unconventional direction he proposed.

Technical Challenges of First-Person Filming

Realizing the film required a complete rethinking of cinematic language, Ross enlisted award-winning cinematographer Jomo Fray. Together, they delved into the complexities of creating a first-person perspective, questioning traditional elements of film technique such as establishing shots and transitions. To achieve the immersive experience, rigorous testing was necessary, focusing on how time would feel as captured by the camera. They discovered that a more chaotic and less choreographed approach reflected human vision more accurately. Equipped with a cutting-edge Sony Venice camera, capable of shooting in IMAX quality, they employed several specialized rigs, including helmet cams and chest mounts, to navigate tight spaces and intimate settings. As filming progressed, close collaboration between the crew and actors became essential, blurring boundaries typically observed on set.

Engaging Performances Within a Unique Framework

For much of the filming, actors Herisse and Wilson were tasked with performing directly to the camera, violating a fundamental acting principle — avoiding eye contact with the lens. Initially challenging, both actors adapted to this new dynamic, developing a rhythm that allowed them to connect with each other, despite the camera’s presence. Herisse remarked on the pressure of handling expensive equipment during scenes, expressing excitement over this rare opportunity for actors to engage in the technical aspects of filmmaking. Meanwhile, Wilson noted how the process transformed their interactions, strengthening their performance bond even when a camera operator stood in between them. Ross reflected on the difficulties of the shoot, acknowledging the constraints of time and resources but remained grateful for the images they were able to capture. His meticulous pre-production efforts allowed him to stay nearly true to his original vision, resulting in a film that feels both structured and spontaneous.

A Rich Tapestry of Experience and Emotion

While "Nickel Boys" follows a more conventional plotline with dramatic twists, it also incorporates moments that echo the nonlinear nature of memory. The film opens with a gripping image of an outstretched arm holding an orange, inviting viewers to absorb sensory details such as loafers splashing through puddles or the soft scrape of a knife against a dish. One particularly emotional moment involves actor Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor embracing Turner, the camera capturing an intimate view over her shoulder. For Fray, this shift in perspective redefined his role as a cinematographer, positioning him to engage directly with performers rather than merely observing as an outsider. Ultimately, "Nickel Boys" represents a significant evolution in Ross’s body of work. Where "Hale County" explored the portrayal of Black lives through the camera, "Nickel Boys" gives voice and perspective to its Black characters, placing the audience directly within their experiences. As anticipation builds for the film's release, "Nickel Boys" promises to challenge perceptions and engage audiences in a compelling conversation about race, identity, and resilience against systemic injustice. Read the full article

[motriders]

Explore X-Lite Helmets for Ultimate Head Protection

Explore X-Lite Helmets for Ultimate Head Protection When it comes to hitting the open road on your motorcycle, nothing is a higher priority than safeguarding your noggin. That is where X-Light helmets become an integral factor — these bad boys are tied in with guarding you while looking jazzy. Assuming you're prepared to put resources into some serious headgear that consolidates first-class security with executioner solace, how about we separate why X-Light helmets ought to be on your radar?

Safety First, Always Let’s get straight to the point: safety is the name of the game. X-Lite helmets are designed to meet or even beat the highest safety standards, so you can ride with confidence. These helmets are made from advanced materials that keep them lightweight but tough. You want a helmet that feels good on your head and won’t crumple like a soda can if things go sideways. With X-Lite, you can trust that they’ve got you covered.

Their helmets also feature multi-density EPS liners that absorb impact like a sponge, giving you that extra layer of protection. It’s like having a personal bodyguard for your head! So when you’re out there tearing up the roads, you can do it with peace of mind.

Comfort for the Long Haul Let’s talk comfort—because no one wants to feel like they’re wearing a bowling ball on their head during a long ride. X-Lite helmets are crafted with ergonomics in mind, meaning they fit just right without feeling heavy or awkward. You can wear one for hours and still feel great.

Plus, they come with moisture-wicking liners that keep sweat at bay, which is a lifesaver during those hot summer days. And don’t worry about the helmet smelling like gym socks; the liners are removable and washable. That way, your helmet stays fresh, ride after ride.

High-Tech Goodies X-Lite doesn’t just stop at safety and comfort; they throw in some cool tech features, too. Many models come with a super handy quick-release visor system, so switching between tinted and clear visors is a breeze. Riding just got a whole lot more fun!

Style Points Galore We as a whole realize style matters, particularly while you're cruising down the roadway. X-Light helmets have a smooth, current look that suits a wide range of riders. Whether you're into lively energies or something more like a work of art, you'll find a plan that addresses you.

What's more, to add your flair, X-Light offers a lot of variety choices and illustrations to browse. You can look great while being protected — what's not to adore?

Perfect Fit Every Time Finding the right fit is crucial, and X-Light nails it with movable highlights that ensure your helmet feels cozy without being awkward. With a two-fold D-ring maintenance system, you can undoubtedly change it for the ideal fit, keeping it secure while you ride. Not any more stressing over your helmet sliding around when you hit that sweet corner!

Join the X-Lite Family Picking an X-Light helmet implies joining a local area of enthusiastic riders who care about quality and security. The brand has fabricated a strong standing among bikers around the world, and you'll find lots of individual devotees sharing their encounters and love for X-Light gear.

Wrap It Up Assuming you don't generally joke around about your motorcycle adventures and need definitive in-head security, look no further than X-Light helmet. With top-notch well-being highlights, executioner solace, inventive tech, and styles that knock some people's socks off, you'll be geared up for whatever the street tosses at you.

So why stop? Examine X-Light Helmets for outrageous head protection today! Your head justifies the best, and with X-Light, you'll ride securely and look exceptional while getting it going. We should prepare and Let’s gear up and hit the road!

[vaugemessenger]

I was making rat nuggets for the children when I heard the rumblings of engines outside. I paid no attention to it and would get around after finishing with chopping them. then I heard shouting that was soon followed by gunfire. I rushed outside to see 2 plains warriors in a firefight with a forest champions. I grabbed the megaphone in my bag and turned it on. Hey I screamed. Everyone seemed to stop in their tracks in surprise. I pointed to a nearby sign which said “NO fighting in the parking lot, failure to comply WILL result in your child being banished from the grounds” everyone looked around awkwardly as I approached them. “So are you here to pick up or drop off”. A 7 foot tall man with bulging muscles covered with tattoos. Undoubtedly a chief of the forest, doing business with him could be difficult as their culture demands that he do not talk to anyone outside of the tribe unless it was a declaration of war. He stepped aside and I saw a boy half my height standing behind him. “ I see, alright sir, I’m going to need some payment before I can accept your son” without hesitation the chief pointed a gun at me before turning it around and holding it by the fore-grip. “You’ll have until sunset to pick up your son”. i said as grabbed it and pointed the barrel towards the ground. As I did that another man about the same size of me wearing armor and a helmet made out of scrap wood shoved their way in front of the chief and held up a girl who couldn’t be older than 4. Most likely the new plains warlord, business would likely be more straightforward as the plains people prefer to be quick about things. “My brother will be here to pick my daughter later, Frank, get over here” he said motioning to one of his men. A man about the size of the chief wearing heavy armor ran towards me carrying a briefcase. Frank knelt down before me and handed me the case. I placed the gun on the ground and opened the case to see an surviving copy of the spider man collection. “Thank you” without saying a word the warlord slammed his car door shut, leaving his daughter who was just looking around on the pavement. I looked over to the chief to see him hugging his son before climbing into his own vehicle. As the chief drove away I saw Frank climb into the warlords car and drive away shortly afterwards. In the distance I saw a woman walking towards the grounds wearing a tattered cloak and a gas mask with a sniper rifle strapped along her back dragging something behind her. I picked up the little girl and waved at the woman. Behind her I could see a little boy about 8 years old wearing a small coat and gas mask running towards me. Even though I couldn’t see his face, I knew that he was overjoyed to see me. He tackled my leg and clung onto it as I approached his mother. “I’m going to pick up jimmy a bit later than usual, the coyotes have been getting bold” I looked behind her to see a giant coyote on top of a sled. The woman bent down and grabbed the coyote before turning back to me. “So where do I put it” “kitchen’s on the first door to the left” I turned to the chief’s son. “Sorry about getting distracted, now the rules are fairly simple, don’t kill anyone, do not set anyone on fire, and do not build weapons unless it’s in arts and crafts” “do you understand” he nodded at me. “Alright, you’ll probably fit in nicely” “come along” I said as I patted him on the shoulder. “So do you have a name” “Tyler”

we walked inside the building and as we approached the main room, I heard the unmistakable sound of kids fighting. I opened the door to find all of the kids standing in a circle while 2 in the center threw blows at each other. I looked towards Tyler. “Might want to cover your ears” I said as I pulled out my megaphone” “what did I tell you about fighting” as soon as I said that everyone tensed up and looked towards me. I put away the megaphone, crossed my arms and looked at them sternly. “Only to do it outside” they all said in unison. “Anyways I have some good news, we have 2 new children joining us today, Tyler and…. I never got her name, also it’s movie day” “What’s a movie” Tyler asked looking up at me. In that moment I felt myself smile like I’ve never smiled before “let me show you” I said as i rolled the dvd player out of the closet”

You run a daycare after the apocalypse. An unspoken rule among the wastelanders says the Daycare is off-limits to all. You raise the children of warlords, chieftains, and nomads.

[dos-oroguitas]

Playing with the Madrigal Grandkids in Minecraft + S/O prompts, Platonic! Antonio

Isabela

Isabela Madrigal would almost always give you flowers. Randomly dropping it in front of you and shift crouching so that you'd know even in game, she loves and appreciates you.

Proclaims the two of you as the rulers of the nether. Would probably make her own custom texture so that you two could have matching crowns.

Very much protective of you, she may only have flowers and a lava bucket in her inventory but you can count on her to risk herself to fight off mobs who would approach you.

Gets jealous of the dogs and cats you tamed who you'd always baby talk.

"They're not baby! I am, I'm your baby!"

Grumpy Isabella noises. What do those animals have that she doesn't have?!

Most likely would have tried to hide them so you could pay attention to her instead. Feeling bad midway and apologizing profusely when you get online.

She'll insist on having matching Minecraft skins.

Luisa

Most definitely names your armor before giving it to you like the netherite helmet? 'Mi Amor's Head Protector', your sword? '(Name) and Luisa's bonk stick'.

She's proud you're wearing the armor that she herself crafted and mined for.

Puts her Minecraft bed next to yours as soon as you have a home in Mirabel's Minecraft replica of Casita.

"Mi Amor, don't wander off too far."

Yeah you'd most probably be like Camilo, getting lost for god knows what reason. You just liked to explore the world!

Her Minecraft character scurrying after yours when she notices you're straying away too far.

Mirabel

Let's face it, she'd build a shrine for you. Not in a creepy way. Well, she'd plant flowers on your statue's feet. It's cute, shh.

Most likely plants red poppies in the shape of a heart and crouches in the center of it to show how much she loves you.

Banner and pixel art for her significant other!?

Probably away a lot, collecting materials for her new map art that features the two of you together.

Lots of texts in-game

Randomly places signs in front of you with little cute messages of how she loves you.

"(Name) I made another map art!”

“(Name), Me encantas. :D <3.” She would say while standing on an enchanting table.

Dolores

Makes a Minecraft playlist for her significant other!?

'Songs to listen to while you play Minecraft with the Love of your life.'

'Don't need to mine any diamonds when you're the only precious one to me.'

Cheesy playlist names

Gets you a parrot in your preferred color. Lets them sit on the juke box with one another.

She would make music out of the note blocks in Minecraft of your favorite song.

Only hops on the group call when you're on.

"Hah. Simp." - Most likely Camilo.

Camileon was k*lled by Dolores.

Camilo

Teases everyone as a simp but the biggest simp there is when it comes to his s/o.

The boy would most likely ask for admin privileges just so he could impress you with his super duper powerful 'Sharpness 100' sword.

This boy is at your beck and call. You need trees? He'll get the saplings for you. You need diamonds?! Say less, he's already TNT mining at y 11.

Most likely would cry about you if Isabela bans him.

"Isabela! Please, I can't live on without seeing them in-game. I need them! I need mi vida!" He would sob.

Would probably get scolded by you when he randomly attacks Bruno.

"That man is dirt poor! You leave him alone, Madrigal!"

Antonio (Platonic)

You are very protective of Antonio in game. They're like the brother you wished you had/ never had.

Probably buys him Minecraft plushies.

Pepa would absolutely love how you spoil Antonio. She is very grateful.

Once Camilo had accidentally hit a dog and instead of helping him, you two just watched as he was mauled by the dogs.

"Should we help him, (Name)?"

"Nah, he deserves it."

Camileon was k*lled by Wolf.

Bonus! Bruno

Rambles about this fun block game he's been playing with the kids for a while.

Manages to convince you to play it with his nephews and nieces.

"Auntie (Name)! :D !!" Most likely fills the chat.

Pranks wars with Camilo.

Bruno's defender when Camilo suddenly attacks.

You probably spawn kill Camillo while he screams for mercy.

"Maybe you should take it easy on Camilo, Mi esposa/ Mi esposo."

Camileon was k*lled by (Name). F's in the chat.

Minecraft with the Madrigal grandkids s/o + platonic Antonio? I'm very into Minecraft right now, please don't judge me.

[angelatsumu]

for firefighter!hq.... Iwaizumi Hajime?? 😳👉👈

hello! i apologize for the late response. I've been so burnout from working + paramedicine, but I am back!!

Firefighter!Iwaizumi is an engine boy at heart <3 he’s the prettiest when he’s pulling a 300ft 2in line, kneeling on it to get his respirator on <3 he’s grinning the entire time, boyish and happy to be fighting some roarin’ fire.

I would argue that engineboi!Iwaizumi’s strongsuit is just fast attack…like he’s just one of the fastest Charlie-seat riders to ever walk the earth. he’s like the flash when he shows up on a fire, immediately moving to pull his fire attack line to the door, flaking his line all pretty, then masking up before his officer completes the 360 walk around. he’s ready to make that push, get the knock, and ultimately come out with the biggest grin on his face. swoon

now, i firmly believe in the lost art of the charlie seat rider who isn't an engine operator, but unfortunately modern departments aren't quite like this. lucky for us, iwaizumi is a skilled man at many things, and being an engine operator--one pump chump as his crew calls him--is one of those skills.

picture this, iwaizumi hajime with his helmet strap hanging low, eyes focused on the levers in front of him as he shuffles about his engine, huffing and puffing and slinging lines about preparing to charge them for some action. he secretly loves a good car fire, deploying the bumper line like a pro.

engine boys are whores! mark my words. now, you lucked up getting iwaizumi into a monogamous relationship during his prime engineboi years. congrats, you hit the jackpot on this one.

because he doesn't have any technical specialty, I can see engineboy!Haji as a bit of a service!dom with no particular bondage or incorporation of his craft into the bedroom. that doesn't mean he's boring, by any means.

Engine boys have stamina and tact; they hit it hard from the yard. engine boys know how to hit that spot in a fire, and boy can Haji hit that spot for you <3

Iwaizumi eases his tiredness and aches from a long, hard-fought 72hr banger by bullying his hardened cock into your tight cunt, shuttering at the sheer feel of your slick encasing him. he's impatient with himself, something that started so sweet and gentle quickly became deep, tactful, and merciless thrusts against your velvety spot that had your toes curling, name falling off his tongue like a prayer.

if you've been particularly impatient with a rowdy little engine!Haji, expect to be teased and prodded for hours on end. he's at the end of the bed, your cunt at eye-level with his face as he watches your dainty fingers fail to reach the spots he knew he could in moments. he'd tried to warn you about your "smartass mouth", but you had insisted on saying he didn't truly love you if he kept picking up overtime. now, you lay in front of him with three fingers stuffed into your tight little hole, begging for any type of attention from your gorgeous man. his eyes are like little diamonds the way they glimmer and glisten at the sight before him. "please haji~" you whimper for the nth time, and he spits on your cunt before delivering a slap to your needy clit. "keep fuckin' going" he gruffs, a cheeky grin as his eyes float up to meet yours.

this is complete debauchery, and I am sorry.

[tuefort-teamfort]

Heyo! Got any general headcanons for the tf2 mercs?? :D

Yes, yes I do :D These are all varying lengths.

masterlist

Scout

Ok, this boy has adhd. Basically canon. But! He didn't know he had it till an informative check-up with Medic who happened to be looking into disorders at the time.

But to be honest he's not really worried about it. It's not like it's that noticeable anyway.

...On behalf of the rest of the mercs I am here to say it is very noticeable. And they have taken to throwing a bunch of random hobbies at him to see what sticks so he'll maybe use up some of his energy.

He's a quick learner, able to pick up new skills pretty quickly.

When he first joined the mercs, he wasn't...the best cook.

He knew the basics because his momma did not raise an idiot.

But it wasn't till Misha and Dell started to tutor him did he really start to learn.

He's pretty close to Heavy, but his actually really good friends with Sniper and Engie too.

Heavy's endless patience keeps him distracted and out of the others' business for awhile, Sniper's a damn good sounding board for all of his ramblings, and Engie is just a sweetheart who looks after everyone.

Soldier

Jane 1000% learned to play the trumpet because he wanted to be a bugler at some point

Not allowed within 50 miles of any military base. No one is entirely certain why.

The raccoons all have little helmets with tiny flags on them. And there is a matching tiny flag inside of Jane's own helmet.

In his free time, he decorates helmets for the other mercs. They're of...varying quality and all have some American iconography somewhere in the designs. But the sentiment is there.

Always, always, pesters Medic about whether or not his medicine is American.

Pyro

So those helmets Jane decorates? Pyro has a shelf dedicated to every one Jane has given them.

They are such a sweetheart it's almost heartbreaking. They make portraits of their teammates all the time. It always shows them hanging out with whoever they drew in a field of flowers.

Loves finger painting

And arts and crafts in general.

Super protective of their teammates - to them, the others are the closest thing they have to family

Frequently has nightmares, can often be found in Dell's workshop late at night because of these - teddy bear and fluffy blanket in hand.

Dell is their favorite person, hands down

The Texan is always so genuine with them

Has a little unicorn nightlight made by said Texan

Heavy

Look me in the eye and tell me you don't think this man knows how to knit, crochet, and sew.

You can't, because he does in fact know how to do all of that.

Finger-knits a lot of the time when he's bored

knits sweaters for Sasha

Is very protective of his team mates, especially Medic, Engie, and Scout.

Has a soft spot for Pyro too, sees them like a little sibling.

Carries a small picture of his family in his wallet. It's a family portrait from when Zhanna was still a baby.

Knows how to sew and thus can do pretty basic repairs and hems. His mother quilts and he'd like to learn how to as well.

No one on the team expected him and Sniper to get along as well as they do but Misha thinks it's because they are both quiet and more introspective which allows them to just exist in each other's spaces pretty comfortably.

His room is full of books, mostly classics, but he's always taking recommendations from Medic, Engie, and Spy.

Has read the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings...may or may not be working on translating the books into Russian

Demoman

Loves card games - poker, blackjack, rummey, nickels, mao

Is also near unbeatable. The only person to ever beat him in any of those? Sniper

Doesn't really like to read but he doesn't mind settling in with a book of Scottish myths and folklore every now and again

He has some hidden distilleries around the base. Drink the product at your own risk.

Collects vintage bottles...refills them

Frequently works with Dell to make his explosives all the more impressive.

Also works with Ludwig to make them do more damage

Him and Heavy try different vodkas together. It's more fun for him than it is Misha but the Russian humors him.

Engineer

This man...this sweetheart

Chronically sleep-deprived (why do you think he never takes his goggles off? you could carry the team's groceries in the bags under his eyes)

Is so smart yet so dumb sometimes, has lost his helmet on his head before.

Is always fixing something. It could be his own machines but more likely he's fixing random appliances.

Shit breaks around the base all the time and he likes to be helpful

If he's not working [and not passed out in his room] he can be found in Medic's lab or hanging out with Pyro

Doesn't really play his guitar around the others but is just waiting for someone to ask him

On that note, he found out by chance that Tavish plays the piano and has played a simple duet with him

I don't know why but I'm convinced he can speak...or well...understand some Spanish. He's not fluent by any stretch of the word but he can read and even understand some spoken Spanish. Would like to actually learn the language

He's not insecure about his hand but he doesn't like to show the gunslinger off. It's one of those things where if you're observant you'll learn about it but if he likes you he'll tell you about it.

Medic

As a man of science and experimentation, he is always learning new things about the human body

And that is showcased in his random experiment of the week.

Prior to actually resurrecting Sniper, he would often just focus on keeping things that should be dead alive. Case in point, Spy's head and his teammates.

Is actively trying to create his own Frankenstein's monster, resurrecting a man was just step one - making his own from scratch and spare parts would be a crowning achievement

Is fluent in multiple languages: German, English, French, and Swedish

Is learning Russian from Misha and similar to Dell can understand, read, and write in Spanish. Difference being he can also hold a conversation.

Frequently experiments on Soldier to figure out why the man is so deranged.

Don't fall asleep around him, you'll miraculously gain five organs.

Doesn't have many hobbies because he's so focused on his work

Misha has tried to teach him to knit but Ludwig just doesn't have the patience for it. Likes to be up and moving and knitting, while stimulating, doesn't scratch the itch in his brain

All of his birds are named after famous philosophers, doctors, and mathematicians

Sniper

So, something I'd like to get straight with the fandom - the Bushman is quiet but not shy.

He's a lot like an old cat that likes to sit in the windowsill - don't touch him, let him watch the world, but feel free to talk at him. Just don't expect him to talk back.

He's also not as awkward as you'd think. Sure he's not great with people but he can hold down a conversation when he has to and is plenty observant, meaning he knows the right kind of questions to ask to keep the other person talking.

Speaking of, he's only particularly close to Misha. And Spy to an extent.

The gentle giant respects his stoicism and Spy does agree that Mick is a very capable professional. They also get along considering both of their work requires a certain level of discretion.

Vulture culture. He takes walks about the base looking for bones a lot of the time. Sometimes makes jewelry and ornaments out of them.

Also a man that can't stand stationary hobbies. He's already resident for work, let him get out and stretch his legs.

Hiking is a big hobby of his. And hunting although that's more out of necessity given his fondness for going off the grid.

Listen, he's a momma's boy. Through and through. If he's near civilization for an extended period of time guess what, he’s calling his mom.

Often talks to his dad too but he’s just not as close to him.

He does know how to play the sax and if he’s really feeling it, he’ll practice in the camper for hours. He thinks this is how spy found out he could play

Spy

Wine aficionado and unfortunately the pretentious kind.

Despite constantly wearing a balaclava he is incredibly well-groomed. He shaves the second he feels the prick of even one hair. His eyebrows are plucked, teeth whitened. He also gets his nails done pretty regularly.

Charcuterie boards are his passion.

Like Medic, he also speaks several languages: English, Arabic, French, Italian, Spanish, German, Russian, Greek, Nahuatl, you name it he can probably speak it. Or read it at least.

Is another man fond of the classics when he has time to sit and read, soft music playing in the background.

His knife collection? Vast and not just for show. He has all sorts of fine weaponry from all around the world and from different time periods too. And he knows how to use all of them.

He’ll never admit it but he does have a soft spot for his son

..…………………

Here ya go @iamobsessedwithtf2 and I’ll get to work on the romantic version shortly!

[dear-ao3]

ok!!!

____

we started the week off pretty strong with lance stroll getting broken up with on his birthday.

well, maybe. 

his girlfriend deleted all of the pictures of him off of her instagram account on his birthday, which really doesnt look good. 

this was then of course followed by fernando alonso being in the hospital im pretty sure somewhere in spain for what im also pretty sure was intestinal issues. this was unrelated to lance stroll’s probable breakup. 

fernando had been feeling unwell last week as we know cause he missed media day for sickness. he missed media day (again) this week for sickness but he was back for the chaos of the race. truly a banner weekend for aston martin.

someone who definitely didn't miss media day though was sebastian vettel. if you don't know who sebastian vettel is, he was a four time world champion, menace, shit stirrer and boy toy twink esque guy who is now mostly unreachable and is the epitome of “hey i cant do nothing to nobody no more” and comes out of hiding maybe twice a year to subject the grid to a new arts and crafts project. this time it was a giant helmet made from recycled materials paying tribute to ayrton senna. and yes, he made the whole grid get in the helmet. his whimsey is still off the charts.

anyone want a sneak peek of the brazil update post