#Crawl space repair near me

[sedonawaterproofingsolutions]

Crawl Space Repair in Charlotte, NC: A Homeowner’s Essential Guide

Crawl spaces are vital to the health and stability of your home, yet they’re often overlooked. Neglecting them can lead to costly issues like mold growth, pest infestations, and structural damage. Whether you're dealing with moisture problems, foundation cracks, or poor ventilation, ensuring proper crawl space repair Charlotte NCis crucial.

Key Steps for Effective Crawl Space Repair

Ensuring Proper Drainage: Installing a sump pump and vapor barrier can prevent water infiltration and protect your foundation.

Inspecting for Foundation Cracks: Regular inspections and repairs using epoxy injections or sealants help maintain structural integrity.

Improving Ventilation: Adequate airflow reduces humidity, preventing mold and improving air quality.

Mold Prevention and Remediation: Keeping the space dry and addressing mold promptly ensures a safe, healthy home environment.

For affordable crawl space repair Charlotte NC cost and expert assistance, search for trusted professionals offering crawl space repair near me. Protect your home by addressing crawl space concerns today! Visit   https://www.sedonawaterproofing.com/crawl-space-repair/

[ramjackva]

Professionals for Crawl Space Repair in Lynchburg, VA

Ram Jack provides professional Crawl Space Repair in Lynchburg VA, addressing issues like moisture, mold, and structural damage. Our experienced team offers effective solutions to ensure a safe, dry, and stable crawl space. Trust us for reliable repairs tailored to your home’s needs! Contact us at 540–777–2560.

[foundationsolution]

Unmasking Mil: The Imperative Sub-Fractional Unit Of Measurement

Born out of the necessity of precision in various industries, units of measurement have established themselves as essential elements for numerous professions. Among these rudimentary parts of technical and scientific verges, lies the frequently used yet often misunderstood unit called ‘mil.’ Not to be mistaken with its phonetic twin ‘mile,’ this minuscule unit plays a major role in defining thinness and thickness in several fields. Fundamentally, one ‘mil’ equals 1/1000 (0.001) inch – a seemingly minute detail that everyone from industrial CNC machinists to electronics engineers can’t afford to overlook.

[kcskentuckianacontracting]

KCS-Kentuckiana Contracting Services | Waterproofing Company in Louisville KY

Ours is the most reliable name for General Contracting in Louisville KY. Our reputation is backed by years of experience in serving with diligence. We are skilled enough to cater to all sorts of construction projects. When it comes to ensuring the sturdiness of masonries and concrete structures, we are the pros. And, if you are looking for a professional Waterproofing Company in Louisville KY, you can rely on us. Using high-quality repellents, we ensure maximum water resistance for your infrastructures. Our top priority is maximum client satisfaction. So, if you need our expert assistance, reach out to us with a call.

[nirvanabuilders]

How to Identify Foundation Issues in Basements and Crawl Spaces

Basements and crawl spaces are often the first areas where foundation problems become noticeable. Detecting these issues early can save homeowners from costly foundation repair and protect the integrity of the entire home. Understanding the signs of trouble in these spaces allows for timely action. Here’s how you can recognize potential foundation problems in your basement or crawl space.

1. Cracks in Basement Walls and Floors

Cracks in the walls or floors of your basement are common signs of foundation damage. While small, hairline cracks may result from natural settling, larger horizontal cracks often indicate pressure against the foundation walls. These larger cracks may signal serious structural issues that require professional foundation repair services. Be mindful of widening cracks or those that allow water to seep into the basement, as they often point to more severe problems.

2. Bowing or Bulging Walls in Crawl Spaces

In crawl spaces, walls that bow or bulge are a clear indicator of foundation stress. This often happens when soil pressure builds up against the exterior of the foundation, causing the walls to push inward. If left unaddressed, this issue can worsen, leading to the need for more extensive foundation repair. It’s crucial to consult a professional to assess the extent of the problem and find an effective solution.

3. Moisture and Water Damage

Excess moisture or standing water in basements and crawl spaces is a common sign of foundation issues. Water can enter through cracks or poorly sealed areas, leading to mold, mildew, and wood rot. These conditions not only weaken the foundation but can also affect indoor air quality. Before seeking foundation repair services, it’s important to address moisture problems with proper drainage and sealing to prevent recurring damage.

4. Uneven or Sagging Floors Above the Crawl Space

Uneven or sagging floors above a crawl space can indicate foundation issues. This problem typically occurs when the supports in the crawl space shift or settle unevenly, causing the floor above to become unstable. A professional assessment might reveal the need for slab foundation repair or reinforcement of support beams to correct the issue.

5. Musty Odors or Mold Growth

A musty smell or visible mold in your basement or crawl space is often a sign of excess moisture due to foundation problems. When water enters through cracks or poorly sealed areas, it creates an environment where mold can thrive. Addressing this issue with timely foundation repair can prevent further damage and improve the overall air quality in your home.

The Importance of Timely Foundation Repair

Addressing foundation problems in basements and crawl spaces early is crucial for maintaining your home’s stability and value. Delaying repairs can lead to more extensive damage, such as structural instability and higher repair costs. Consulting a foundation repair company at the first sign of trouble ensures that the issues are resolved before they escalate, keeping your home safe and secure.

Conclusion:

If you notice any of these warning signs in your basement or crawl space, it’s important to schedule a professional inspection. A trusted foundation repair company can identify the root cause of the issues and recommend the best solutions to keep your home stable and protected. Taking action early can prevent small problems from turning into major concerns, ensuring peace of mind for you and your family.

[ramjacksc]

Get the Reliable Foundation Repair in Spartanburg, SC

Looking for reliable Foundation Repair in Spartanburg SC? Look no further than Ram Jack SC. Our expert team specializes in fixing foundation issues, ensuring stability and peace of mind for homeowners. Trust us to provide quality and long-lasting solutions for your foundation repair needs. Dial 866-735-3085. 

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/10/2024

someone adopt this little orange man from me in Houston TX! more details here!

listening

the 1991 Ella Mae Morse compilation Capitol Collectors Series is the official driving-cats-to-the-vet album bc it is so mellow but still fun. this album has previously been featured several times in tuesdayposts but i think you should all listen to it again.

seven thousand three hundred days IS a long long time to sleep ur so right ella

-

reading

two different works that annoyed me: Emily Hamilton's The Stars Too Fondly. my first clue should have been that this is my least favorite poem, bc ppl would quote it to me smugly after my mom died. im sure they thought they were being so super comforting to a budding astronomer, but, much like how i can no longer eat lasagna bc ppl gave us Twenty! Party! Size! Platters! Of! Lasagna! after my mom died (they would just Appear on our front porch, frozen), too much of this poem really soured me.

i had this book on hold Forever and then delayed delivery twice bc i have not felt like reading lately. here's the publisher's description:

In her breathtaking debut—part space odyssey, part sapphic rom-com—Emily Hamilton weaves a suspenseful, charming, and irresistibly joyous tale of fierce friendship, improbable love, and wonder as vast as the universe itself. So, here’s the thing: Cleo and her friends really, truly didn’t mean to steal this spaceship. They just wanted to know why, twenty years ago, the entire Providence crew vanished without a trace. But then the stupid dark matter engine started all on its own, and now these four twenty-somethings are en route to Proxima Centauri, unable to turn around, and being harangued by a snarky hologram that has the face and attitude of the ship’s missing captain, Billie. Cleo has dreamt of being an astronaut all her life, and Earth is kind of a lost cause at this point, so this should be one of those blessings in disguise that people talk about. But as the ship gets deeper into space, the laws of physics start twisting, old mysteries come crawling back to life, and Cleo’s initially combative relationship with Billie turns into something deeper and more desperate than either woman was prepared for. Lying somewhere in the subspace between science fantasy and sapphic rom-com, The Stars Too Fondly is a soaring near-future adventure about dark matter and alternate dimensions, leaving home and finding family, and the galaxy-saving power of letting yourself love and be loved.

should be catnip for me, right? wrong. starts out as a chat fic, which i hate.

i had a lot of trouble finishing the first chapter, which also has an extended third-person omniscient narrator flashback in italics, a thing i also hate. i KNOW you can figure out how to integrate this information into the book in a better way instead of dumping it in my lap.

i think part of why this is not hitting like i wanted is the tone, because i think this veers more new adult than i was really hoping for. i think introducing a big group all at once is very hard to do effectively. i do not like a series of character introductions that feel like they are trying to sell me action figures. or perhaps blind-bag figures. i do not like a six-deep list of cheesy puns about someone's name. i do not have the patience to see if this debut novel finds its footing a little later on, though i am glad a sapphic ghost in the machine romance exists in this world.

i also read dean motter's mister x (both the original late eighties through early nineties run and the 2008 follow-on).

let's yoink the description from wikipedia:

Set in Radiant City, a dystopian municipality influenced by Bauhaus and Fritz Lang's Metropolis, the series concerns a mysterious figure who purports to be its architect. His radical theories of "psychetecture" cause the citizenry to go mad, just as he did, and he takes on the mission to repair his creation. To accomplish this he remains awake twenty-four hours a day by means of the drug "insomnalin", all the while coping with a Dick Tracy–like rogues gallery and supporting cast including his long-suffering ex-girlfriend Mercedes. (ed note: the redhead in the santa beard below)

the art in this comic book is really and truly stunning. everyone was firing on all cylinders. beautiful retrofuturistic advertisement vibes, very fun play with panels and word balloons while still being readable, there are airships, you know how it is. looooooooove a hardboiled noir.

the Concept of mister x, this horrible awful futuristic city that grinds its citizenry up and spits them out? both figuratively and sometimes literally? love it!!! love a great wounded beast of a city as a character!!!

unforch the "who is mister x" subplot does not resolve in a satisfying way, imo. there's a lot of flip-flopping, there's a lot of options, he ends up being (maybe?) someone he was very definitively proven NOT to be in an earlier issue, and it really soured me on the whole experience. and also i don't believe it! that specific person makes no fucking sense! who mister x is, is by far the least interesting part of the series. tell me more about how he's fixing the city. show me more of the city. shut up and dance, robot artists

-

watching

X-Men: Apocalypse (2016, dir. Singer). this movie did not need to be two and a half hours long. appreciated the EXTREMELY divorced energy from charles & erik though, quicksilver rescuing the school scene was also very fun. my bestie's husband has informed me we are NOT watching Dark Phoenix, i'm not sure if we're going to loop back and watch the ??? number of wolverine films or if we're going to see how i feel about deadpool. bc i find this character insufferable through clips only.

-

playing

there is a feature in the video game genshin impact to turn your World Level (TM) down in order to make overworld enemies a little easier. i am at seven out of nine bc i genuinely can't finish the boss to unlock world level 9, and i am finding some of the overworld enemies too hard at 8 and want to finish the achievements in a more relaxed fashion.

-

making

this is going to be a lot of previously posted pics so bear with me.

saturday morning/saturday evening. plants? repotted. porch and stairs? swept. old wasp nests? knocked down. different mirror on the porch to go out to the curb when i have the energy? yes. also a giant slab of engineered stone from the top of a dresser but that's out of frame.

speaking of the giant broken dresser that was in my apartment when i moved in just over a year ago, i ripped it apart with a crowbar and threw it in the dumpster. put my pretty zebrawood desk in the empty space and started thinking about what to hang on that wall. the wall across from it is maps, bc i think a cozy office should have lots of maps and it makes a good video conference background. maybe this will be the dedicated cowboy nonsense wall. i did so much dusting and vacuuming and mopping and the girls can't even hang out in here bc the orange boy is in the office bathroom. big sigh.

also a lot of driving around and emailing and calling thirty shelters and rescues figuring out how to get this orange man a home. please take this orange man off my hands.

[rowiewritesstuff]

Hi! I saw some of your work and it is fantastic!! And I like to request a bot reader to be tfp Starscream's long lost twin but the reader is like the opposite of what Starscream to be, different paint job, different personality, etc (kinda like the Shatter glass Starscream) and feel free to add something more if you like. I really hope you can do this but i understand if you don't want to tho

 (This takes place right after the space bridge explosion)

Starscream’s Twin

Instead of the classic silver and red Starscream bore, you were a gorgeous teal. You used to be gold, but you decided to change it up when the war started. You had a sleek form, perfect for being a seeker like your brother. Much to Starscream’s distaste, you chose to be a medic.

 Sadly, when the war started, there was an accident. You were neutral in the war, and a Decepticon decided to harm you. You got separated from your brother, Starscream. 

An Autobot found you and put you on a ship heading off world- unfortunately, said ship was shot down. It landed in the desert on a planet called Earth. Thankfully the ship had enough power to last for millions of years.

You woke up fully repaired when the Decepticons raided the ship. Starscream was the leader of the team investigating the odd signal. When he saw you in a stasis pod, his spark thumped in his chest. His long lost sibling- Lightbuster- was alive. 

“Open this pod! Now!” The screechy mech ordered. The Vehicons did so, and your optics slowly opened. 

“S..sta..rscream?” You spoke slowly. You were ripped out of the pod and brought into his arms. He thought you were dead. For millions of years he swore he’d kill the one who did this- Megatron. 

“How… how did you survive? I thought you were dead!” Starscream looked you over for wounds. The ship did a good job of repairing you.

“I…I was injured. The Autobots found me and after that it’s been a blur. What’s happened? Where are we?” You spoke softly. You were scared of all the Decepticons… but you knew Starscream was a Decepticon from the start of the war.

“You are safe on the planet Earth. It’s crawling with vermin, but don’t worry- you can come back with me. I’ll protect you.”

“...Vermin?” 

“Yes, an insignificant life form. You don’t have to worry, you’ll live on the Nemesis with me. Megatron has perished.” 

Your eyes widened in shock. You asked how, but Starscream shook his head. He ushered you through a groundbridge and you were on the Decepticon warship. He demanded Knockout give you a medical checkup, and after that you'd be allowed to acclimate to your surroundings. 

Finally, after all these years, he’s found you- and he’ll never let Megatron near you again. After all, Megatron’s dead, right?

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Days Twenty-Two to Twenty-Six, Part III.

pairing: din djarin x plus-size fem!O/C         

word count: 13K      

chapter summary: Din and Marathel repair the Razor Crest, Marathel takes her first sonic shower with interesting results, Din tries to change Marathel’s mind, the Razor Crest gets unexpected visitors. 

warnings:  angst, heartbreak, female masturbation, voyeurism, mention of blood, menstruation, chldbirth, mental illness and infertility, English and Mando’a cursing      

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***       

You Were Marked: Masterlist  

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter 

Marathel was in a deep sleep, curled up with Grogu on Din’s bedroll, when there was suddenly a loud ka-thunk, and everything quickly shifted sideways as she rolled into a hard surface.  She opened her eyes to near-darkness, except for glowing tiny lights of red and green.  Disoriented, she felt around her, and her hand fell upon little Grogu, who grabbed her hand tightly.  “What the …” she muttered, and then she heard running footsteps and a loud pounding on the door. 

“Wake up, Marathel!  We got problems!” 

“Wh … What?” 

“We just fell out of hyperspace!  Come out here!” 

Marathel shook herself awake and reached up to press the door button.  The door slid up, and she pulled herself out to see Din crouching by a panel halfway down the corridor.  “What’s happened?” 

“Get down here, I need your help.”  Din had been awake for a while, and he had replaced his armor and was in the process of putting his weapons on when one of the power banks had failed.  Marathel came down to where he was.  “Grab that corner, there.”  Marathel took hold of the panel where Din was pointing as he finished unlatching it.  She wasn’t prepared for its weight, and her corner hit the metal floor with a clonk, but she wrapped her fingers around the panel edge and helped him slide it down the wall.  

That task done,  Marathel stood behind him as Din knelt to tap tiny screens above each component in the rack.  “Haar’chak, the whole thing’s down.” 

“Are we in danger?” 

“We will be, if I can’t get this up and running again!”  Din stood and began taking off his blasters. 

“What should I do?” 

“Just … stand right there for right now, and don’t touch anything!” he snapped as he pulled off his pauldrons and cuirass.  “Hate this damned thing,” muttered Din as he sat on the floor and began squeezing himself into the small access crawl space to get behind the power bank.  Marathel stood silent, unmoving.  Din continued to curse and mutter as he folded himself into a working position.  “Ah … fuck me, the whole damn thing is wired wrong!” 

“Fuh!” shouted Grogu. 

“Grogu, I told you to cut that out.” 

Marathel was confused.  “Didn’t Peli just repair this ship?  Why would she wire it wrong?” 

Din sighed.  “Well, she didn’t wire it wrong, she wired it correctly, and that’s the problem.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” 

Din chuckled.  “I guess not.  A while ago I had to jerry-rig this wiring and the ship flies better with the adaptation.  The wires are hooked up to the wrong cart components, and it finally tripped itself.  I have to pull all these wires first, then you’re going to pull the carts as I rewire it, okay?” 

“Okay,” said Marathel, not sounding okay about it at all. 

“Just sit down there in front of the panel, I’ll let you know when I need you.” 

Marathel sat, listening to Din grunt and quietly curse to himself as he did whatever he was doing.  “Did you get any rest?” she asked. 

“Don’t talk to me right now,” said Din.  “I’m trying to not electrocute myself.” Marathel sat silently.  Grogu toddled over to join her, and she held him on her lap as they waited for instructions.  “And yes, I got some rest.  Are you all right?” 

Marathel shifted slightly, then swallowed.  “Yes.” 

Behind the power panel, Din coughed to cover up his discomfort, then said, “Okay, we’re going to work from your left to your right.  Grab the handles of the first cart and pull it out halfway.” 

Marathel grasped the handles and gave the thing a tug, but it didn’t move.  “What’s halfway on this thing?”  She pulled again, much harder, and the whole thing pulled out of the wall and landed on the floor. 

Din sighed.  “Half of what you just did.” 

“Did I just kill us all?” 

“Not yet. Just put it back in, halfway, and wait for me to get the right wire connected.” Marathel did as he instructed and waited.  After a short while, Din said, “Okay, slide the cart back in fully.”  Marathel carefully pushed the cart back in, giving it a hard shove to seat it correctly.  “Did lights come on?” 

“Yes.” 

“What does the screen say?” 

“Screen?” 

“There’s a small screen in the middle of the cart.  What does it say on the screen?”  Marathel was silent.  “Marathel, just read what’s on the screen!” 

“I can’t.” 

“You can’t see the screen?” 

“I can’t read, Din, I told you that!” 

There was a long silence. Din groaned quietly.  “She can’t read.”  Din chuckled, and Marathel heard his helmet clank against something.  “Yes, you told me, I forgot.  Okay, change of plans.” Din shifted around and began pulling himself out from behind the power bank.  “You need to do the rewiring, then.” 

“Me?” 

“Yes, you.  Each wire goes between two metal plates that you use this screwdriver to tighten.”  He handed her a small tool with a flat end.  “Go on, get back there.” 

“What makes you think I’ll fit?  You had a hard time squeezing in there!” 

“You’ll fit just fine.  Now get going before we lose backup power.” 

Marathel glared at Din, but she put the screwdriver in her pocket and fed her feet into the small access opening, as she’d seen Din do, and began pushing herself through.  “I have no idea what you need me to do back there.” 

“You’ll figure it out by the time you’re done.  You only have … um …” Din counted on his fingers as he said, “‘Bad Boys Rape Our Good Girls But Violet Gives Willingly, Got Some’ … twelve.  Twelve wires.” 

“Bad Boys do what?” 

“‘Bad Boys Rape Our Good Girls But Violet Gives Willingly, Got Some.’  It’s how I remember the wiring colors.  Black, blue, red, orange, green, green, blue, violet, grey, white, gold, silver.” 

“You said green and blue twice.” 

“They’re different wires.  You’ll see.” Marathel grunted in disgust, and Din swore he heard her mutter osi’kovid under her breath as she struggled to get back behind the panel.  “What did you just say?” asked Din. 

“I called you an osi’kovid!” 

Din chuckled to himself.  “Do you even know what that means?” 

“I know it’s nothing good.”  Marathel looked at the tangle of wires before her, then at the bank of metal plates.  She looked carefully at the connection of the black wire that Din had completed.  “So blue is next?  Which blue?” 

“It’s solid blue, not the striped one.  You have to put the end of the wire where the coating is stripped off, put that end between the two plates, and tighten the screws to lock it down.” 

“I’ll do my best.” Marathel found the solid blue wire and pulled it loose from the tangle.  The bare end touched another wire’s bare end, and Marathel felt a zzzt sensation that was painful.  “Aigh!” 

“Don’t let the ends touch,” said Din. 

“Now you fucking tell me!” snapped Marathel. 

“Fuh-EE!” shouted Grogu, and Din shushed him. 

Oh, good, the ‘child repeating swear words’ days are upon you, Bounty Hunter, have fun with that, wryly thought Marathel.  She carefully placed the wire end between the plates and placed the flat end of the … screwdriver, that’s what he called it … into the slot of the screw head and turned it, but the tiny screw fell to the floor with a ting.  “Oh no …” 

“You must have turned the screwdriver the wrong way.  It’s lefty loosey, righty tighty.” 

“What?” 

“Turn the screwdriver left to loosen the screw, and right to tighten it.” 

“I can’t find the little screw.  It fell out.”  Tears filled her eyes, and Marathel sobbed.  “I don’t know what I’m doing, Bounty Hunter …” 

“Marathel …” 

“I’m going to kill us all …” 

“Mesh’la, honey …” — honey? Where did that come from? — “It’s going to be fine.  You can do this.  The screw is on the floor right in front of you, I guarantee it.  Just take a breath and look for it again.”  He heard Marathel sniffle, then take a shaky breath.  He pulled the cart halfway out and waited.  After a few moments, he heard her whisper righty tighty.  “Tighten the top screw a little, then the bottom screw a little.  Go back and forth to tighten then evenly.  Make the connection good and tight.”  He waited a few moments.  “Got it?” 

“I think so.” 

“All right, then,” said Din as he slid the cart back into its socket.  Moment of truth, he thought, and the readout screen flashed its green message: Override Ready.  “You did it, mesh’la, good job.” 

“Next one is red, yes?” 

“Yes,” replied Din as he slid out the next cart. 

“Red for rape,” said Marathel as she carefully found the red wire and inserted it into place.  “‘Bad Boys Rape Our Good Girls,’” she scoffed. “I think you need a different way to remember this.” 

“Come up with one, and I will.” 

“Oh, I will.” Din heard Marathel grunt softly as she concentrated on her task.  “There.  Done.” 

Surprised, Din said, “That was fast.”  He slid the cart home and override ready flashed.  “Green next.  Light green.” 

“Light green …” repeated Marathel as she untangled the wires, and she shocked herself again.  “Aigh!” 

“You need to be more careful,” said Din. 

“You’re the one that left me this tangled mess, you … cigpell pudyn!” snapped Marathel, attaching the light green wire.   

“And what does that mean?” 

“It means meatball dick!”  

Din burst out laughing.  “Meatball … meatball?”  He was laughing so hard he snorted.  “That doesn’t even make sense!” 

Marathel grumbled as she tightened the tiny screws.  “Light green is done!” 

Still laughing, Din reset the cart and got an error message.  “No good, try resetting the wire.” 

“The wire is fine,” said Marathel, gently tugging the wire. 

“Not from where I’m sitting.  Try it again.”  Din listened to Marathel mutter under her breath as she loosened the wire.  “You may need more wire lead.  Peel back some of the green covering and reset it.”  Marathel did as Din instructed, but he still got the error message. “I don’t know what, Marathel, but you’re doing something wrong.” 

Of course, it’s my fault.  “Are you sure it’s not supposed to be the dark green wire first?” 

“Positive.” 

Marathel sighed.  “Can we try the dark green wire, at least?” 

Din sighed as well.  “Fine.  Go ahead.”  He pulled out the cart again.  “And you, of all people, know that my pudyn looks nothing like a meatball.” 

“It might after I throw a big enough rock at it,” said Marathel archly.  “Okay, try it now.”  Din replaced the cart.  “Well?”  Din was silent.  “Was I right?” 

“Yes,” he muttered. 

“Okay, then.  Now it’s the light green wire, yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“And who is a cigpell pudyn?” asked Marathel with as much snark as she could muster.  “Well?” 

“… I am.” 

Marathel chortled.  “Good boy.”  She continued down the row, replacing the wires in order as Din replaced the carts.  When they got to Violet and the purple wire, Marathel asked, “So, who’s this Violet who Gives Willingly?” 

“No one.  It just works in the phrase.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Can’t help that,” said Din.  There was no way in Frith he was going to tell her that while her name wasn’t Violet, a particular prostitute he had been fond of at one time had a magnificent head of purple hair that set off her deep, dark green skin.  Damn, she was fine, thought Din, wondering where she was these days. 

Marathel rolled her eyes, but she carried on with her task.  Din had been right, Marathel got very proficient with the screwdriver by the time she was tightening up the gold and silver wires, and she felt quite proud of herself.  Well, Marathel, old girl, not half bad.   

Din, on the other side of the power bank, felt pride on her behalf as well — Marathel wasn’t lacking in intelligence; she could follow instructions and tackle new tasks, was willing to get her hands dirty — and he was sure that the nimbleness in her hands and fingers would make her a great assistant mechanic. What a team we’d make, thought Din, and his heart warmed with the possibility.  “All right, Marathel, good job.  Now I’m going to fire this thing up.” 

“You are?  Am I safe back here?” 

“More or less.  Just don’t touch anything.”  Before Marathel could protest, Din flipped the switches, the power bank turned on, and the engines came to life with a dull roar.  “Dank ferrik, yes!” crowed Din.  “Okay, you can come out now!  Don’t forget the screwdriver!”  Marathel rolled her eyes as she put the screwdriver that she came in with — as well as two more she found under the tangle of wires — into her pocket, and she began to wriggle out from the tiny crawl space.  Din reached in to help pull her out, and he gave a strong tug on her just as she pushed hard on a girder with her feet, and Marathel tumbled into his lap as he fell backwards.    

She looked up at him in surprise as she lay on his legs, her face at level with his belt buckle.  Din continued to hold her hands as he gazed at her, mostly reclining on his elbow, thinking how damn cute she looked with engine smut on her face and hands, her hair and clothes disheveled. Marathel’s face colored that becoming shade of pink that he liked so much as she pulled her hands free and rolled off his legs to sit on the floor.  Din sat up too, and gently put his hand on her back.  “You did good, Marathel.  I’m proud of you.  I would have hated to do that job by myself.” 

Marathel handed Din all three screwdrivers. “How would you have done that?” 

“Ugh.  I would have had to crawl out each time, after connecting each wire.  Terrible.”  Din grunted as he stood up and reached down to help Marathel stand.  “You got a little dirt on your face,” he said, touching her cheek with a gloved finger. 

Marathel shied away, saying, “I’m sure I did.  It’s filthy back there.” 

“Engines generally are.” 

Marathel hummed vaguely as she moved to the basin at the far end of the ship.  Din watched as she found the soap and a towel and poured out a tiny bit of water from her canteen into her hands.  “Marathel, what are you doing?” asked Din, confused. 

Marathel dropped the towel on the floor as she stepped back from the basin, dropping her head, sliding her hands into her sleeves.  “Washing my hands,” she whispered. 

“You’ve been using your drinking water to wash your hands?” 

“I thought that was all the water I was allowed,” said Marathel, pointing briefly at the canteen. 

“That’s for drinking.  You may drink as much water as you wish. You haven’t been drinking your water?”  Din came over and lifted the canteen; it was still nearly full. “Is this the same water I originally gave you?  It’s easy to get dehydrated on long hyperspace hauls. You should be drinking more, Marathel,” Din said sharply. 

“I didn’t know …” 

“Drinking water is there for the taking, just like the food, Marathel!  You don’t have to hoard or conserve drinking water!  There’s a basin in the fresher to wash in that’s hooked up to the water recycler …” Din watched Marathel continue to cringe into herself.  “… which I never showed you.”  Din sighed.  “I didn’t show you the fresher, or where the cleaning papers for the vac tube are, or where I keep the spare blankets, for kriff’s sake.”  He noticed her shoulders shaking, and he realized she was crying.  “Oh, mesh’la, please don’t cry …” Din went to her and wrapped his arms around her. 

“I’m sorry I’m so stupid,” whimpered Marathel, keeping her arms tightly against herself, refusing to hug him back, despite how much she ached to do so. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m the stupid one who’s been rude and insufferable to you.  Everyone I’ve ever known automatically knows where to find everything on a ship like this, and it never occurred to me that you wouldn’t, although, why would you know?  The only time you’ve been on this ship for any length of time, you were injured.  Unconscious.”  Din sighed and rocked her back and forth as he quietly said, “I’m sorry I’m such an osi’kovid.” 

Marathel sniffled, then asked, “What does that mean?” 

“Shithead.” Marathel chuckled, and Din continued, “And I’ve also been a … what is it?  A tymffod.  What does that mean, mesh’la?” 

“Asshole.” 

“Yeah, I’ll take that.  And a cigpell pudyn, if that helps.  And a knob, too, I heard that one from you, earlier.” Din held her tight and stroked her hair, glad to know that he could again safely hold her like this without acting like a sex-starved maniac.  “Marathel, ma’mwsh ha’laa, I wish … I wish you’d just … stay right here, or anywhere else, other than ...” Din’s voice trailed off. 

Marathel swallowed, then pushed Din back, wiping her cheeks, and looked down to her feet.  “I appear to have grown a Grogu again.” 

Din looked down too, still surprised by the shoes on her feet, seeing Grogu holding tightly to Marathel’s ankle.  He sighed.  Apparently, the moment of closeness with Marathel was over.  “Come here, kid,” said Din, bending down to pick up the boy.  “Did you take good care of Mahr last sleep cycle?” 

“Mama,” said Grogu. 

“Mama,” repeated Din. 

“We slept well until everything went sideways,” said Marathel. 

“We’re back up and running now,” said Din.  “Let’s get this panel back on.” 

“Okay.  Oh — before we do that …”  Marathel dropped down her knees by the access hatch, reached in, and pulled out a square of black insulation foam.  “I found this just lying in there.  May I use it?�� 

“Of course,” said Din, assuming she’d use it to sit on while she knitted.  That was why it was in the access tunnel in the first place, to sit or kneel on while he had to tinker around in there.  Together they got the panel back in place, then Din said they needed to strap in to get back into hyperspace.  Marathel climbed the ladder first, giving Din another view of her ample backside as she went up, making him wish that they were in a romantic relationship, on good terms, just so he could playfully smack her on that lovely ass.  This thought left him with a wistful feeling as he followed her into the cockpit with Grogu.  Marathel was seated and struggling with the straps, so he knelt before her, placing Grogu in her lap, carefully untwisting the restraining belts and snapping them closed, letting his hands slide off her thighs as she stared at him with wide eyes. 

“Don’t do that,” she whispered, not frightened of him, but of the thrill his touch sent through her. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back, even though he wasn’t.  He stood and went to his seat to recalculate the jump to hyperspace, wondering in the back of his mind if she needed to lock herself in his quarters again, as he felt like he was already at half-staff.  He looked back at her.  “Ready?” 

“Ready,” said Marathel with an uncertain smile.  

Din turned back to the console and pulled the throttle, sending them shooting forward in space.  Marathel felt her stomach change places with her liver and wondered if she’d ever get used to this hyperspace thing.  Once they were settled in their path, Din undid his safety straps and stood, saying, “Much better.  Thank you for helping out.  Okay, let’s go back down.”  He released the catches on her restraints, letting his hands linger briefly on her hips before descending the ladder. 

Marathel followed with Grogu.  “I hate this ladder already.” 

“Believe me, I avoid leaving the cockpit as much as possible,” said Din, and Marathel chuckled to herself as she thought, I guess he does piss for distance.  Din pressed a pad on the wall next to the power bank panel, and a door slid open, revealing another tiny room.  Din stepped inside.  “The fresher.  Here is where you can switch from sonic to the water option.” 

“Sonic?” Marathel also stepped inside the fresher and had to stand close to Din for both of them to fit. 

“Sonic means the fresher uses sound waves to remove dirt and oils from your skin.  The water is recycled, but it doesn’t get very hot, and it’s not hot for long.” 

Marathel looked dubious.  “Which would you prefer I use?” 

“It’s up to you. I generally use the sonic setting, and then wash my face with warm water in the basin.  It can get gross in the helmet from time to time,” said Din with a shrug. 

“Well, I guess I’ll follow your example.”   

Din nodded and opened the storage bin.  “Here is facial soap,” he said, handing her a tube.  “Did you want to wash your hair, though?  The sonic does okay for my hair, but I keep my hair short … as you saw,” he added quietly. 

Marathel pulled a handful of her hair over her shoulder and looked at it.  “I’ll see what the sonic does for me.”   

Din found her a clean washcloth and a small towel.  “Okay, so it’s set on sonic, and you just have to press this button here to start.  Then you stand over the drain, there, and the cycle will run for a few minutes.  It’s on a timer, so if you’re not clean to your satisfaction, you can just press the start button again.  The button below that opens and closes the door.” Din stepped back to the doorway.  “There’s no lock, but I’ll take Grogu with me back to the cockpit and close that door.  You’ll have complete privacy down here.  Did you need anything else?” 

Marathel shook her head.  “Thank you.” 

“Of course.”  Din took Grogu back, catching some of her hair as he did.   He untangled her hair from his glove and smoothed it over her shoulder before he stepped out of the fresher. 

“Oh, by the way …” said Marathel, and Din turned back to her.  “‘Beautiful Blossoms Rise Over Green Grass, Blooming Vines Grow With Good Sunshine.’” 

Din tilted his helmet.  “Do what?” 

“‘Beautiful Blossoms Rise Over Green Grass, Blooming Vines Grow With Good Sunshine,’” repeated Marathel.  “To remember your wiring by.” 

Din smiled widely under his helmet.  “I like that much better.  Just knock if you need anything.”  Marathel nodded, and Din and Grogu returned to the cockpit. 

Marathel heard the cockpit door close, and she poked her head out of the fresher to look.  Not seeing either Bounty Hunter or a little boy, she found her bag and brought it to just outside the fresher.  She pulled off her top and pants and folded them into a neat pile, then went to quickly use the vac tube, tossing her used pad into the tube before toggling the contraption.  Thank Frith, it seems I’m finally bleeding less.  Returning to the fresher, Marathel carefully removed the dilator from her and placed it in the basin so she could wash it after her shower.  Or would it be called a sonic? she wondered.  Marathel pressed the button to close the fresher door, then she pressed the button to start.  

Right away, she heard a low vibration and felt it in her bare feet.  Marathel stepped over to the drain as Din had directed. She felt the vibrations growing more powerful, and she could see the dirt leaving her hands, almost as a swath of sand would blow off a flat rock.  She marveled at this, and she felt the vibrations as a massage that trembled through her entire body.  The vibrations became stronger and faster, and they seemed to center low in her belly.  After a short time, the vibrations grew even more powerful, and the sensation became warm and pleasurable as Marathel gasped, realizing she was becoming aroused. 

Oh, no, she thought to herself.  No, I don’t want this!  But her body betrayed her as the vibration of the sonic shower continued to titillate instead of soothe. Marathel reached down and pressed her hand against her pubis, seeking a release from her stimulation.  When that didn’t work, she flattened her front against the cool metal wall of the fresher, which only worked for a few moments as her feverish heat warmed the wall.  Her breasts began to ache, so she pressed them harder into the unyielding metal as she reached between her thighs, gently sliding her fingertips over her clitoris. She gasped again, this time with a throaty groan, and she clapped her free hand over her mouth.  Oh, Frith, what can he hear in that cockpit? 

Din had, in fact, heard her groan; the auditory capabilities of his helmet were quite powerful. The fresher was also situated almost directly below the cockpit, and sound carried through the floor.  Over the years, he’d become accustomed to the fresher being the official wank closet and the noises that would emanate from within the times he’d be traveling with someone. On several memorable occasions, he’d traded visits to the sonic shower for a bit of companionship from female bounties (and a couple of male ones, too, he wasn’t too particular if someone wanted to make it worth his while).   But he’d heard — through that unreliable horny mercenary grapevine — that sonic showers could provide some females with sexual stimulation.  And this was the first time a woman was in there where he’d heard her possibly masturbating.   

Din looked back at Grogu, who was quietly occupying himself with the gear knob and a ball of Marathel’s yarn, using the Force to make them fly in complicated patterns.  Din looked back out the view screen, pulled his flight notebook onto his lap, and turned up the receiver in his helmet.  Concentrating his hearing on the room below, he listened to what he believed was Marathel touching herself, wondering if it was only the sonic waves bringing her off, or if she were as frustrated as he was, being so close together, denying the feelings she had for him. 

And oh, Marathel was frustrated, and confused as well; why was she having these desires, when they should be the last thing on her mind?!  But she kept pressing her breasts against the wall as her hand stroked herself, softly, gently, not even attempting penetration, for she was still so fragile and wounded there; she did not think she would be able to bear that, not only physically, but mentally as well.  As her fingers continued their playful touches on her bud, she began to rock her hips, gasping in tiny, quiet moans.  She kept rocking, the motion setting off delicious twitches inside her as she flexed her muscles in her hips, belly, and buttocks, and her fingers strummed her swollen clitoris.  Oh, you taught me, Din, you taught me well, how wonderful this feels!  I wish it were you touching me like this; if you were, I would pleasure you in any way you wished, I would make you bread for eternity, I would trap myself in the smallest flying metal box for you.  Her twitching hips moved more frantically as she began to crest into her orgasm.  She slid her free hand up her body and began gently tweaking her nipple, making her gasp again. She squeezed her thighs and tried to flex her pelvic floor — a hitherto unknown part of herself, brought to her attention by Eliadu — as hard as she could.  Her other hand alternated tapping and stroking her clit until she finally tipped over the edge and climaxed; her mouth worked noiselessly, and her eyes closed, her knees bent, and her fingers pressed hard against her clitoris, feeling her pulse within, counting the beats of her rushing heart. 

The sonic vibrations of the fresher slowed, and then stopped.  Marathel finished riding out her orgasm with a last breathy gasp, and she sank to the floor, relishing its coolness against her flushed, warm skin.  Breathing hard, Marathel rolled to her back, stretching out her limbs.   

In the cockpit, Din felt like the most lecherous type of voyeur, eavesdropping on Marathel below.  He’d just taken another look back at Grogu, and the kid was crashed on the seat of the aft chair, snoring softly.  Under the guise of adding entries into his ship’s written log — he preferred writing them out in longhand —he listened to Marathel touching herself; Marathel, who was so recently brutalized at the hands of others, giving herself pleasure with her own hands.  Her gasps were quiet and small, leading him to think that she was using the gentlest of touches, the softest of strokes of her fingertips against her delicate skin.  The notebook on his lap concealed his erection, and he wished he could stroke himself to the sounds Marathel was making, but Grogu’s presence made that infeasible. Oh, Marathel, I wish I were in there with you, touching you myself, I would be so gentle, and touch you only where you allowed, with only the lightest, the most tender of caresses, I wish we could be alone, where I could give you such soft touches until you came for me, and you could scream my name as loud as you want to, mesh’la!  He wanted her to be a screamer for him, a blanket-stealing, bread-baking, soft, plush, magnificent screamer of a lover, he was certain that she was coming in the room below him, coming hard like she had every time with him, and he was close to coming himself when he heard her moaning, but in pain. 

In the fresher, Marathel’s breathing slowed and she began to feel chilled in the small room.  She had carefully sat up when she felt a cramp rip through her lower belly, and she moaned as quietly as she could.  Oh, no, not now, not my cycle, why am I not done with that, as old as I have learned that I am?  She fell back to her side, waiting for the next wave of cramps that would inevitably come, pain that would fold her in half, unable to move.   

But that sort of pain didn’t come.  There was pain within her, but not in the muscles of her abdomen.  The pain seemed lower, deeper inside.  Marathel looked down at herself, expecting blood, and there was blood, but not the amount she was accustomed to with her cycles.  She felt her muscles quake again, and she moaned, and then she felt the need to push, that there was something within her vagina that she needed to expel. 

What in Frith was happening to her? 

Fennec had told her she wasn’t pregnant, Eliadu had told her that she couldn’t get pregnant, yet, here she was, trembling and moaning on the floor, feeling as if she was about to give birth to something, for the sensations she was feeling within was unlike but somehow strangely similar to all of her previous cycles, when she would pass clot after clot … 

There was a knocking on the fresher door.  “Marathel?”  Din was worried, almost panicked, all of his licentious thoughts gone.  “Are you all right?” 

Marathel gasped, and her head whipped around towards the door.  “I’m fine, I’m … fine …” Her abdominal muscles contracted again, making her voice waver on the last word.   

“You’re in pain, I heard you moaning …” 

“You were listening?!” 

“No! No …  Just now, I heard you …” 

“How could you LISTEN like that?!”  The need to push became overwhelming, and she groaned as she felt blood running down her thighs.    

“Marathel!  I’m coming in!” 

“NO!  Don’t you DARE come in!” 

“Let me HELP you!” cried Din. 

“I don’t NEED your help!” Marathel shouted back.  “I … don’t need … ANYONE …” She rolled to a deep squat on her feet and hands, grit her teeth, and bore down on whatever it was her body was trying to release.  She reached down between her legs, and could just feel something gelatinous inside her, so she took another deep breath and pushed again.  This time she felt a mass exit her vagina, and she went to her knees, trying to catch her breath.  And here I thought I’d never give birth, but I think I just did, thought Marathel.   

Din knocked on the door again.  “Marathel?  Mesh’la?  Please, talk to me!  What is happening?” 

“I’m okay … I’m all right,” weakly said Marathel.  She reached behind her, finding the mass she’d just expelled with her fingertips.  What in Frith?  She moved herself to a position where she could see whatever it was, a dark red-brown clot, about the size of a gorugelly, that contained clumps of what appeared to be crusted flesh.  Marathel realized what had occurred: she had passed a clot of scabs made by the cauterizing of the worst of the wounds made by the Dilimgau.  Ceiroprac had told me I might shed those, though Marathel.  I didn’t think I’d be so damn dramatic about it though! How typical of me, thought Marathel.  She laughed weakly at first, and then louder as she realized how absurd her life was. 

Outside the fresher door, Din was bewildered by the sudden sound of laughter on the other side.  “Marathel?  If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m coming in there.” 

“Oh … calm down, Din, for the love of Frith!  I’ll be fine.  The sonic waves shook loose some … internal scabbing, and I wasn’t expecting that.” 

Internal … oh, he thought, remembering that Marathel had refused reconstruction where she had been so badly damaged by the Dilimgau, but had wounds cauterized instead.  “I’m sorry, ner kar’ta. Are you still in pain?  Are you bleeding badly?” 

“I … some.  But I’ll be all right.” 

“What can I do for you?” Din pleaded. 

Marathel squinted up at the switch he had told her toggled the fresher between sonic and water.  “Would it be all right if I turned on the water?” 

“That … the water won’t be very warm.” 

“I don’t mind cold water.  But there’s blood, and … clots.  Can that go down the drain in here?” 

Din sighed.  “Not a large amount of blood, and I’d rather any solids didn’t.” It was a decent recycling system, but not that good. 

“Then please bring me rags and a bucket, or something, so I can clean this up.” 

“Damn it, Marathel, let me do that for you!” He found a large towel.  Going back to the fresher door, he turned his head away and closed his eyes.  “I’m going to open the door now.  My eyes are averted.”  Before Marathel could protest, he opened the fresher door and stepped backwards into the doorway, holding out the towel behind him.  “Here; wrap yourself in this.”  He felt the towel being snatched from his hand.  “Let me know when I can turn around.” 

Marathel wrapped the towel around her, covering as much as she could.  Leaning into the far corner, she quietly said, “Okay.” 

Din turned around, his eyes seeking out Marathel.  Her back was to him as she faced the corner of the fresher, the towel only covering her from mid-thigh to mid back, unable to wrap around her fully, and she had pulled her hair over her shoulder to cover her front.  I should have brought her blanket, thought Din; he had again forgotten that she was a little more full-figured, and needed more coverage than a standard cheap towel would provide, because all he could ever see was that her form was perfect. 

There were drips of blood running down her inner calves. Din looked over to the drain, seeing a small puddle of blood along with the remains of a large viscous clot, as well as bloody prints of both her hands and bare feet on the floor.  Din removed his gloves and rolled up his sleeves.  He grabbed the washcloth and went to the basin to soak it, seeing the bloody dilator in the basin.  He looked over at Marathel just as she looked over her shoulder, and she flushed pink again, turning her face back to the corner.  Din’s eyes went down her back, still covered with welts, and he watched another drop of blood roll down her leg, dismayed at how much she still had to suffer just to heal.   “Will you at least let me take you to a medical facility?” 

“How would you explain my injuries?” 

Din soaked the washcloth and knelt by the large clot, doing his best to not look at it too much as he scooped it into the other small cloth.  “The same story as before … you’re a runaway sex slave.” 

“What if they don’t believe you?” 

“They don’t ask many questions on a bounty.” 

“Then why didn’t you take me there instead of Tatooine?” 

Din began mopping up the worst of the blood, deciding to tell the partial truth.  “I wasn’t too capable of logic at the time, my head being bashed in and all.” I was too afraid to put you in the hands of strangers. 

Marathel looked at him over her shoulder.  “What’s that?  On your wrist?” 

The yarn bracelet.  He’d forgotten. He carefully wrapped the stained towels together.  “Nothing.” 

Marathel frowned.  From what she could see, it was some sort of … adornment made from green, yellow, and brown yarn, the same colors she and Grogu had used to tie on the poosticks. “I don’t remember you having that before.” 

Din did not answer her; instead, he took the bloody cloths and disposed of them in the vac tube and came back to wash his hands, looking away from the dilator.  He opened the storage bin and pulled out a bottle.  “Here is shampoo if you’d like to use it.”  Marathel watched as Din stashed another, smaller bottle in his pocket, wondering what that could be that he needed to hide it; it wasn’t like she read the damn label, after all.  He turned a dial on the wall.  “Now you’ll have water.  The same switch will turn it on.  I’ll leave another towel outside the door.  Okay?” 

“Thank you.  I’ll be quick; I don’t want to waste your water.” 

“Please, don’t … don’t worry about that.  Take all the time you need.  Or at least all the cold water you can stand.” 

“Thank you, Din.” 

Din gazed at her, still pressed into the corner, naked but for her long hair and a scanty towel.   

She is so soft, so beautiful.  So sad.   

So broken. 

“You’re welcome, Marathel.”  He grabbed his gloves, left the fresher, closing the door behind him.  She called me Din, he thought.  I’m Din again. 

Marathel remained crowded into the corner of the fresher for a while after Din left her alone, mind racing, bewildered again by the Mandalorian Bounty Hunter.  Ashamed as she was that he’d heard her before, that he’d listened to her as she … but he had come running to her when he thought that she was hurt, just as he’d come running when she called for him when Grogu had put her in a tree.  Just like how he’d taken her broken body away with him when he left Unmanarall.  And what had she done for him?  Fed him meals, baked him bread, given him some physical pleasure? 

Broken his heart? 

Tears threatened again, chipping away at her resolve, trying to make her forget why she was insisting on going back … and the reasons for doing so were growing less and less important. 

Marathel tried to turn off her addled brain as she went over to the fresher controls and turned on the water.  Stepping under the aerated spray, she expected cold water, but what she experienced instead was something even more frigid than her waterfall during the deepest part of cold season.  Chilled almost instantly to the bone, Marathel shrieked, “GAIAH!!!!” 

In the cockpit, Grogu had woken up, and was cuddled on Din’s lap when Marathel’s surprised scream reverberated through the ship.  Oh kriff, thought Din as he hurriedly turned down the reception volume on his helmet.  Then he chuckled and patted Grogu’s tummy, saying, “I think I forgot to tell Mama to let the water run for a minute before getting in.”  Grogu frowned up at him, folding his ears down.  “Yeah, she’s gonna throw a rock at my pudyn for sure.” 

Later, Marathel was clean and dressed again.  It took a while before she got warm, though, after nearly freezing herself in the fresher.  The water did eventually get mildly warm, but nowhere near enough to offset how cold the water was initially.  Osi’kovid, thought Marathel.  And after I helped him fix this flying metal box!  

Marathel dressed in her other set of blue clothes, the thick socks Cobb had given her, and then finally her blanket.  She figured out the drinking water dispenser and helped herself to Din’s tiny galley storage, finding the container of tea.  She made two cups of extra-hot tea, a cup of bone broth, and cut a loaf of Silnima’s sweet squash bread into thick slices.  Carrying one cup of tea and the cup of broth, she went up to the cockpit access.  “Din?” 

She heard his feet drop heavily to the floor, and he was up and looking down at her in a flash. “Mesh’la?” 

Marathel pursed her lips at the endearment, and said, “Here is broth for Grogu, and tea for you.”  She placed the cups, each with a slice of sweet bread on top, at Din’s feet.   

Din quickly dropped to one knee and was just able to touch her fingers briefly as she let go of the cups.  “Thank you, Marathel.” 

“When Grogu is finished, would you please send him with the cups back to me?  I finished knitting something for him.” 

“Of course.” Marathel nodded, then disappeared from view.  Din stayed there, on one knee, long after she’d left, just listening to her moving around on his ship, humming the only song, digging through drawers in the galley, sipping her tea, vocalizing her Oldtalk to the melody of the only song now and again.  Grogu came and snagged his sweet bread and his bone broth and sat next to Din, enjoying his snack and listening to his Mama while Din thought about doing a U-turn, taking her to his covert and presenting her to the Armorer as his choice for riddurr. 

But then, Din sighed and reconsidered. Kidnapping a bride was Paz’s style, not his.  And being an Apostate meant a riddurrok was out of the question until he could redeem himself.  So, he sat down next to his boy and drank his tea and ate the bread, lifting his helmet only enough to do so.   

Below, Marathel had settled herself on Din’s bedroll and was using the black insulation foam as a base to felt the wool roving Cobb had bought for her.  Lacking a felting tool, she’d dug through all the drawers she had been able to open and found three pointy things that she tied together to make an ersatz stabber, as she called it.  She drafted the wool into little bits of fluff, which she spread in layers on the foam, using the three-pronged improvised tool to stab it into the foam over and over and over.  This part was very therapeutic, Marathel found.  As the wool felted together, she added more wool, flipping the piece over, stabbing it again and again to make a cloth, intending to give the finished cloths to the Bounty Hunter to polish his armor.   

Din had come down from the cockpit with Grogu; they’d found a few empty cups and a couple of bowls floating around the cockpit.  Din had expected to see Marathel leaning against the main corridor wall, sitting on the foam square, knitting.  Surprised to not see her immediately, he looked around before he noticed her sitting in his quarters. He tilted his helmet as he watched her repeatedly stab bits of wool — with great gusto — into the black foam.  Her vehemence in her task frightened him a little, as she stabbed, stabbed, stabbed whatever it was she had in her hand.  “What are you doing?” 

“I’m felting wool into cloth.” Stab, stab, stab. 

“Why?” 

“For you, to polish your armor.”  Stab, stab, stab. 

“I can buy that sort of thing.” 

“I’m sure you can. But I want to make these for you.”  Her tone told him she would brook no quarter. Stab, stab, stab.  Her eyes flicked up to his helmet.  Stab, stab, stab.   

Din wasn’t about to argue the point with her, not with that stabby tool thing she was wielding.  He did like seeing her in his bed, though.  “Do you have enough light in there?” 

She looked up at the overhead lights.  “It’s good enough for what I’m doing.  The floor is too uncomfortable for me right now,” said Marathel, her cheeks turning pink again.  She looked past Din’s legs and smiled.  “Just who I wanted to see.  Come here, my love.”  Grogu toddled in and hugged Marathel’s legs.  She picked up a folded knitted item and unfurled it, holding it up to his little body.  “Hmmm.  It might be a little big for him.  But he’ll grow into it.”  Marathel frowned and looked back up at Din.  “Will he grow into it?” 

Din shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine. I only recently found out he’s over fifty years old.” 

“Fifty?  Why, that would make him older than me, even!” 

“I understand that his people are slow-growing folks that live for a very long time.” 

“But that means …” Marathel’s face fell, and she caressed Grogu’s face. “He will be without you for much of his life.” 

Din crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb, looking down to the floor.  “I suppose so.”  It had occurred to him as well.  He tried not to think about it much. 

“How old are you?” 

Din raised his eyes back to Marathel’s lovely face. “Well, going back and forth in hyperspace kind of muddies time, as opposed to staying on one planet.  But I’m somewhere around forty-two Basic years old.” 

“That makes me older than you,” said Marathel quietly.  “I am glad to know that you are not so much younger than me.” 

Din shrugged.  “Not by much, no.” And I am glad to know that you aren’t half my age … that would have skeeved me out.  I’m middle-aged.  I don’t need to be with someone so young as that … not like the place you came from. 

“Well, enough of that kind of talk.   Let’s see how this fits you, my little Godynferth!” Marathel fed Grogu’s arms into the sleeves of the little jacket, and she tied the attached belt around his waist.  “It’s a tiny bit long, but it looks good to me.  Show your father, little one.” 

With a pleased coo, Grogu turned to Din, holding out his little arms.  Din squatted down to Grogu’s level.  “Well, now, kid, I think you look like a proper Jedi.  I like it, Marathel, thank you.  He’s never complained about being cold, but a child should have cold weather gear.” 

“What do you do for cold weather gear?” 

“You’re looking at it.” 

Marathel frowned.  “Do you not get cold?” 

“I get cold.” 

This troubled Marathel. The thought I would knit you sweaters and cowls, weave you capes and blankets, anything I could make to keep you warm went unbidden through her head. 

Din cleared his throat, and stood, taking a step back from the doorway.  “I thought I should use the sonic myself.  Would you mind …?” 

Marathel blinked.  “Oh! Of course.  Just knock when I can come out.” She looked around her, realizing that Grogu had wandered off.  She called out, “Come here, Grogu, let me take that jacket off you … then you get to stay in here with Mama.” She had not directly called herself that before.  Not out loud. Oh, she thought to herself.  I never knew how much joy my heart could hold, just saying Mama, referring to myself. Did Din feel the same way, when Grogu became his son in his heart? 

And oh, when Din caught her eye after she had put the question to her mind, and Din knew as sure as anything that Marathel had just realized who she was. 

Grogu’s Mama. 

You’re Grogu’s Mama, Marathel.  And you’re going to leave him, because you’re holding on to some insane guilt over things that were done to you and not by you. I can think of no other reason you would willingly return there. Yet, I can’t not take you back; I must obey you because … you are my Dahl-mate? That is equally insane, my ma’mwsh ha’laa, so insane we should go somewhere uncharted and be crazy together.  

Din stepped back into his quarters and stood, looking down at Marathel.  She looked back at him, puzzled, asking, “What is it?” 

“We need to talk to each other,” said Din. 

“We have talked.” 

“No, we haven’t.” Din sat down at the other end of the bedroll, but still too close in the tiny room, where they’d already experienced so much intimacy when she was injured, unconscious, and naked, and he was gloveless, helmet-less, and out if his mind with concussion.   “You’ve talked.  You’ve talked at me.  You’ve told me the nightmare of your life, the humiliation and degradation you’ve suffered.   But then you tell me that I must return you to the source of your suffering, and that’s all there is to it.”  Din sighed, unsure where to start.  “May I hold your hand?” 

Marathel looked down at Din’s hand, covered by his glove.  She couldn’t think of a good reason not to hold his hand.  It was a reasonable request, and he was a man; therefore, she must obey him. But his hand was encased by fabric and leather.  Along with his forearm weapons, there was not a strip of bare skin exposed.  She supposed that he could make the argument that her hand was encased in metal springs, and therefore, just as non-tactile as his own hand.    

But what difference did the glove make, really?  His hand was still within — a strong and gentle hand, powerful, but still capable of tender touch, loving hands that held Grogu as well as fondled her. 

His hands, the gloves.   

Marathel raised her eyes to Din’s chest, protected by heavy armor.  She knew it was heavy; she’d felt the weight of it against her own body, and he carried both the armor and occasionally her.  But behind the armor was him, she knew there was flesh, flesh that was warm and yielding, carrying scars and marks and moles, flesh over muscle that had seen battles that ended in death and hands of others caressing him, pleasuring him, for he was a man and such pleasures were necessary; even her own hands had felt that flesh in an effort to please him as well as fill her own needs.  

His body, the armor. 

Raising her eyes even more, Marathel studied his helmet, planes and angles that disguised his face; and even though she knew he had brown hair and brown eyes and a mustache and facial hair, she longed to see those features, to solidify in her broken mind who he was, his eyes upon hers, to hopefully read in those brown eyes that he could see her, cracked, crumbled, chipped away to rubble, and so, so sad that she desperately needed a tender touch and the knowledge that even as unworthy as she was, that he trusted her enough, that he loved her enough, to supersede his words of love and trust with the sight of his own lips saying such things, and the touch of his lips on her, words, words meant nothing, she was too stupid to understand words, words almost always led to lies … 

“Marathel?”  Marathel blinked, shaking herself out of her thoughts.  “I only asked you to hold my hand; it wasn’t some sort of trick question,” he implored. 

Marathel dropped her eyes and went back to felting the wool, stabbing the fleece into the foam over and over.  “What did you need to say?” 

“I want you to explain to Grogu why you’re doing this.” 

“Doing what?  Felting wool?” 

Din took a deep breath; he wanted to keep his temper.  “Why you’re insisting I take you back.”  Marathel stopped her stabbing motion.  “Because you haven’t explained it to me at all, and I want to hear you explain it to him, so maybe I can possibly understand.”   

Marathel set aside her project and primly folded her hands in her lap. “I’d be happy to speak to Grogu.  Shall I do it now?” 

Din was surprised, as he thought she would either belay an explanation or refuse to do it altogether.  He looked over his shoulder and saw Grogu, still in his little knitted robe, sitting in the doorway, eating a hunk of bread.  “Hey kid, Marathel would like to speak to you.” 

Grogu got up and toddled over to Marathel, holding out his bread crust to her.  Marathel smiled and took the proffered crust, bobbed her head, and murmured, “Thank you, my love,” and ate the bit of bread, while Din was both surprised and overwhelmed that Grogu shared food with her, as if sharing food was a commonplace thing for him, because it certainly wasn’t. “Come up here, little one,” she said, lifting him onto her legs so Grogu could sit on her.  “You may not know this, but your father is taking me back to the planet I came from.  Remember?  You met me there, in my little hut, where we played poosticks, and picked flowers, and you and Patu went fishing?” 

Grogu made an affirmative coo, and Marathel continued.  “Well, we’re going back there, but what will happen is that I will stay there, and you and Patu will go on flying on your adventure, and I will not be with you.” 

Grogu frowned, his ears drooping. 

“Remember, when I said goodbye to you before?  I thought you would be leaving me behind then.  But I was so badly hurt, and your father did not want to leave me behind like that.  I didn’t know your father took me away with you.  And I am sorry that you had to see me so hurt, and that you had to help me breathe when I was so sick.  I know you also helped my hands, and I thank you so much for that. You gave me back my hands, you clever boy! 

“Unfortunately, I am still sick.  I am very, very sick.  But I’m not sick in my lungs, or in my hands.  I’m sick here …” — Marathel indicated her head — “… and here …” — Marathel put her hand over her heart.  “The sickness, the pain I have there is not an illness that can be healed by the tiny hands of a little green boy with large ears.  It’s a sickness that I can’t ever recover from.  It’s a hurt that can’t be fixed.  And when there’s something that can’t be fixed, well, then, it must be left behind.  

“I’m sure you’ve seen Patu leave things that can’t be fixed.  Parts of this ship, a blaster, something.  But this time, it’s me that must be left behind.”  Grogu’s face fell, and he looked down to his little feet until Marathel put her finger under his chin and lifted his face up again. “Grogu, you need to know that I’m okay with that.  That is what I want.  I want to be left behind, so my sickness won’t affect you or your Patu.   

“I know this is hard to understand.  I know I can’t properly explain why this is so necessary to me.  But I need you to remember that this was my decision.  And if for no other reason than that, I need for that decision to be honored by you, honored by your Patu.  I’ve had so little honor given to me, Grogu, and whether my decision is good, or bad, or indifferent, it was my decision to make.  

“But I don’t want you to worry about me.  I will be all right when you and Patu leave.  I will be sad, of course.  I will be very sad.  And you will be sad, too, I know.  You may be very sad.  And it’s okay for you to be sad.  But you have much to do.  You must grow up, and live a wonderful life, and have many exciting adventures with your father.  And I want you to enjoy the amazing life you’re going to have, flying here and there, meeting all kinds of people … probably making things blow up …” Marathel laughed.  “Wherever you are, I will be thinking of you.  When you look up at the night sky, and you see all those stars, and planets, that will be me keeping an eye on you!  I’ve been so proud to be your Mama!  And perhaps, someday, you may have a new Mama to go along with your Patu, or … even maybe another Patu, who knows?”  Marathel looked up at Din, thinking of Cobb.  She knew.  She just did.  “Someone will make your father so happy, and that’s what we all want, is for Patu and Grogu to be happy.  Happy, and safe. 

“And … I will be happy too, to know that you are happy, and safe.  No matter how sick I am, no matter how much I hurt in my heart and in my mind, I will always be happy that I met you and your father.  I will always be happy to think of the three of us having fun in that little hut, having little, tiny adventures amongst ourselves.  Even if you believe you had far too many baths. 

“I will miss you so much.  You will be in my heart forever.  Rwy’n di’rugar, my love,” said Marathel, her voice crackling, and she picked up Grogu and hugged him tightly, kissing his little face. 

Drawing back, Marathel smiled at Grogu with tears in her eyes.  “I think that went well, don’t you?  Yes, I think that went well.  I hope you understand a little better why this is happening, love, yes?  Yes.” 

Grogu patted her cheek, cooing sadly.  Then he pointed back at Din.  Marathel gazed into his dark visor and sighed.  “Yes, I will miss Patu as well. He has been a good friend to me.  My first friend, actually.  Your father will also be in my heart forever. I know he’s having a very hard time leaving me behind.    Someday, he may understand why he must leave me behind, but even if he doesn’t, I hope he knows that I will never regret a single moment I spent with him.  Even when I threw eggs at him.  Or called him names.” 

“What about not telling me about the depth of the mud I had to slog through?” asked Din. 

“Oh, that … I wanted to get back at you for laughing at me.” 

Din chuckled briefly, and then reached over to gently ruffle Grogu’s hair, moving his hands closer to her. “Marathel, I don’t think you’re sick.  I don’t think you’re so damaged that you can’t be fixed, or that you can’t be helped.  Doctors and therapists are out there.  I can find you someone if you would just let me.” 

Marathel felt trapped by the armored man before her, and she wondered if that was his intention.  She returned her attention to Grogu.  “Grogu, do you understand what I am asking of you?  Will you please honor my decision?” 

“You can’t ask him that.  He’s just a child.” 

“Grogu is wiser than I will ever be.” 

“All the more reason to not take you back, Marathel! I can’t, in good conscience, leave a woman having a nervous breakdown alone in the wilderness!” 

“I’m not having a breakdown!” cried Marathel. 

“Then you should!” shouted Din. He dropped his head.  “I’m sorry, mesh’la, I’m sorry, ad’ika, I shouldn’t have yelled.  I am upset, because … because I don’t have much time left to convince you to not leave me.”  He reached for Grogu.  “Kid, would you please give Mama and me some privacy?  We need to … grown-up talk.” Grogu bleated and jumped off Marathel’s lap and toddled out of the tiny room, patting Din’s arm as he went, which both adults noticed with mild amusement, wondering just how much Grogu was able to understand the angst the grown-ups were creating for themselves. 

Din and Marathel looked at each other. He took a breath, then reached to shut the door. 

“Din …” 

He moved his hand along the wall, and turned off the lights, and then a third switch shut off even the tiny red and green panel lights, leaving the tiny room in full darkness. Marathel gasped, and Din said, “Mesh’la, I need you to trust me … I must do this this way.” Focusing on the low-light image in his visor, he moved closer to her, reaching for her hands in the darkness, and she pushed herself against the wall behind her. “Please, Marathel, I …” She kept pulling her hands loose, whimpering, fearful.  Din pulled off his gloves, and then, his helmet, saying, “Marathel.” 

Marathel fell still at the sound of his voice, unmodulated, and she forgot to breathe.  Din reached for her hand again, their fingertips touching before she drew her hand back. “Marathel, ma’mwsh ha’laa, I don’t know what to do about you.  I don’t understand why you won’t let me love you.  I don’t understand why you insist on destroying yourself.” He sighed.  “I don’t know how else to say that I don’t care who your biological parents are.  I don’t know how else to tell you that those reprehensible things done to you don’t make you a whore. Those things only matter to me because of the pain they cause you.”   

Din got up to his knees and moved even closer to Marathel, gently pushing down on her knees so that he could straddle her legs, resting part on his weight on her, pinning her in place again like he had against the kitchen wall of the palace, and he hated that he kept trapping her this way.  He lifted her hands to his face, saying, “I can’t show you my face.  This is the way.  This is the only … allowable way for me to be without my helmet around you.  And even then, this is still … difficult.  Attachments outside the covert, attachments of any kind are not discouraged, but … neither are they encouraged.” He still held her trembling hands.  “I’ve told you I love you, both in Basic and in my own language, remember?  I said to you, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, when we were together that night.  ‘I will know you forever,’ that’s what that really means, mesh’la, I will have you in my heart forever just as you will have Grogu in your heart forever.  Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner kar’ta, cyar’e.  I love you, my heart, my beloved …” Din kissed her splinted fingers.  “And you said something back.  What did you say back to me?” 

“Fi ng’riad, d’lwch fi, chi yd’w fi,” said Marathel, her voice unsteady. 

“What does that mean?” 

“‘Love me, hold me, I am yours.’” 

“But it doesn’t really mean that, does it, mesh’la?  I can’t possibly believe that there’s a word for love in the Hold. Not with what they do there to women, to children.  I’m sure you say that at a very specific time; you have ceremonial words for every moment you women must endure, there’s a verse in that only song for every occasion, so when do you say that, Marathel, what does it really mean?” 

“It means … ‘I am yours to take and ruin.’” 

Din’s heart broke a little more.  “And when are you supposed to say that?” 

“When the girl presents herself to her Elder as a Whyn just before he takes her … fully.” 

“And you said this … to me?” 

Marathel sobbed and pulled her hands away.  “I had no other words to give you.  I knew you had said something very important to me, and I had to say something!” 

“But what do you feel, Marathel?” 

“I don’t know!” 

Din sat back on his heels, sighing, sure she was lying.  He rubbed his face with his hands.  “Back on Unmanarall, when you asked me to remove my helmet … if I had, would you have changed your mind about going to the Hold?” 

“No.” 

“If …” Din’s voice broke, and he had to clear his throat.  “If I revealed my face to you now, knowing that I love you, Marathel, my ma’mwsh ha’laa … would you stay with me?  Would it make a difference?” 

“… No.” 

At that moment, Din would rather have been sliced in two by the Darksaber.  Desperate now, he pleaded, “What if … then … not with me, then … Stay at the palace, on Nevarro, somewhere, anywhere, where I know I can reach you, see you, know you’re safe …” He found her face in the darkness and pressed his forehead to hers.  “Somewhere Grogu can see you, please, ner kar’ta, my heart, please, please, don’t make that boy lose his Mama!” 

“Din, please …” sobbed Marathel. 

“Stay, yes, or no?” 

“... No.” 

Din wanted to weep.  He reached behind him to find his gloves and his helmet.   Standing, he put his helmet back on, and opened the door to the tiny room, revealing Grogu on the other side, looking sadly back up at him.  “Gangway, Grogu,” he said, listlessly, and he climbed up the ladder into the cockpit, shutting the door behind him. 

Marathel sobbed into her hands, hating herself for what she was doing.  She felt Grogu’s tiny hand touch her knee.  “Oh, Grogu, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for hurting Patu like that.” She held Grogu as she shifted them both to a prone position on their sides, facing each other.  Marathel began stroking Grogu’s ear with her thumb. “Someday, he may forgive me, but if he never does, I will accept that.  I’d rather he hate me forever.”  

Grogu’s sad eyes bore into hers.  “Patu Mama,” he said sternly. 

“Patu … Mama?” asked Marathel, confused. 

Grogu put his hands together, wrapping his tiny fingers around each other.  “Patu … Mama.”  Marathel blinked tears from her eyes, then nodded. Repeating the hand motions, Grogu asked, “Mama … Patu?” 

Marathel’s eyes went wide, then shut tight for a few moments.  Opening her eyes, she whispered, “Yes, my little child.  Mama Patu.”  Marathel smiled through her tears.  “Mama loves Patu with all her heart.”   

She couldn’t speak after that for a few moments. Finally, she was able to say, “Grogu, my sweet, it’s because I love your father so that I must be left behind.  I’m damaged, and I’m no good.  He deserves someone so much better than me.   What I am, no matter where I go, will bring him only shame and misery.  I’m the wrong woman, and what I’ve done will be found out; I know now how people will talk behind my back.  I heard the whispering in the palace.  Patu is well-respected everywhere he goes, he must be.  I can’t be the reason he loses respect in his covert, his … well, wherever a Bounty Hunter may belong. And I don’t belong anywhere, anyplace that’s good. 

“People don’t understand a person like me, they will judge me for what I’ve done, what was done to me, who I am. And they will judge your father for caring about me. And I refuse to bring that judgement upon Patu.” 

Grogu grunted, shook his fists and said, “Patu Mama! Mama Patu!” 

“Oh, Grogu, if only it could be so, I wish it could.  But this is the way.” 

Grogu frowned and put his hand on Marathel’s chin, and she immediately felt a little sleepy.  “Grogu is putting me to sleep again, I think.  Did you want me to tell you a bedtime story, little one?”  Marathel yawned.  “I will tell you my version of how I met your father. 

“When I first saw him, the sunlight was reflecting off his armor almost straight into my eyes, and I thought he was one of the Mothers Who Went Before coming for me, coming to take me away and up into the night sky.  And then I thought, no, I don’t want to go! So, I had to throw a rock to chase Patu away.  

“I had wanted the Mothers Who Went Before to come take me away.  I wished for it, prayed to Frith for it.  But when I thought they had appeared, I begged to stay!  And when I realized it was a person, a man I had never seen before, I was afraid, but somehow, I knew that he would not hurt me, that I was safe with him. I knew a stranger to me would be the first man to treat me well.” Marathel smiled at Grogu, stroking his cheek with her thumb.  “And Patu brought me you.  How could I not love him?”  She felt sad yet happy that she revealed the truth to Grogu.  But as she fell asleep — and whether it was Grogu putting her to sleep or the emotional exhaustion hitting her was immaterial — Marathel mumbled, “But there’s no point.” 

Grogu got up from where he lay next to Marathel.  He gently pressed his forehead to hers, like Patu would do.  Just like Patu would do to him.  Then Grogu sighed, and toddled out to the corridor, where he sat down with a tiny grunt, looking back and forth from the open quarters to the closed cockpit door. 

Grogu was frustrated.  Grogu had a hard time understanding why Patu and Mama could not just love Mama and Patu!  Grogu wished Patu would kiss Mama again.  Grogu had seen other people kiss before.  Grogu knew kissing made other people happy.  Grogu had been happy when Patu had been happy with Ohmeh. Grogu had been sad that Patu did not kiss Ohmeh.  Grogu was happy Patu kissed Mama. Grogu changed Mahr to Mama because Patu kissed Mama. Grogu was happy Patu became happy again.   

Grogu was sad that Mama was sad.  Grogu could see that Mama was hurt in a lot of places.  Grogu wondered why someone hurt Mama.  Grogu was mad that someone hurt Mama. Grogu wanted to help Mama.  Grogu had helped Patu and friends of Patu.   

Grogu did not understand why Mama did not want help from Grogu. Grogu did not understand why Mama was so dark inside head of Mama.  Grogu was sad Mama was so dark inside head of Mama.  

Grogu could not fix Mama. 

Grogu could not fix inside head of Mama. 

Grogu was sad. 

Grogu looked down at the floor and sighed.  He thought for a while, and while he sat and thought, he began picking up his favorite colors of the glitter on the floor — gold, silver, and green — and made them float and swirl before his eyes.  After a while, Grogu put the glitter down, and he called out to the Force, looking for friends that might make Mama less sad.  And if Mama was less sad, then maybe Patu would be less sad, too. 

It was a few hours later that Marathel heard Din calling her.  Climbing up out of her troubled sleep, she said, “Mmmmm … what?” 

“Marathel?  Wake up.” 

Not wanting another round of Din’s pressure, Marathel muttered, “Why?” 

“You need to see this.” Marathel frowned at Din but let him help her up.  She followed him stiffly up the ladder to the cockpit, where he beckoned her to stand at the console, where Grogu was sitting, looking up and out of the view screen.  Din pointed above his head.  “Look.” 

Marathel stood where Din indicated, and looked up to see not just one Purrgil, but many.  She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. 

“I don’t know how many there are,” said Din.  “I got up to twelve, and more kept coming.  I can’t see them all to count them.  They are all around the Crest.”  A single Purrgil, much smaller than the one Marathel had seen while on the transport, moved closer, almost as if she was trying to peer into the cockpit.  “A few have done that, too.  I’ve never heard of a Purrgil doing that before.” The Purrgil bellowed, the vibration rumbling the floor of the cockpit, and they could see the closest of the Purrgils nodding their heads.  Din turned to look at Marathel’s enraptured face.  “It looks like they were waiting for you,” he whispered, carefully reaching for her hand.   

Marathel jumped, looked down at her hand, her pinky finger wrapped with his.  She quickly shifted her eyes back up on the Purrgils above her … but she reached with her other fingers to capture the rest of his hand. Din lifted his other hand to Grogu’s back, and they stood that way for a long time.  Eventually, Din wrapped his arm around Grogu, lifting the child up against him. Din stepped back and took a seat on his captain’s chair, still holding Marathel’s hand as she dropped her eyes from the Purrgils and turned to look at him.  He gently tugged on her hand, and she allowed him to seat her on his lap. Din reached to recline the seat back, but it fell too quickly and Marathel nearly somersaulted off the back of the chair, and she laughed while Din cursed his rotten luck. Of all times to be a klutz, he thought.  I couldn’t be suave if my life depended on it! 

“This is ridiculous,” said Marathel.  “I’m too heavy; I’ll squish you.” 

“No, you won’t.” Even if she cut off his circulation and his legs fell off, he wouldn’t care.  Din put his feet up on the console, her legs already entwined with his. 

“Then I’ll break your chair.” 

“Unlikely.”  Even if their combined weight broke this chair, he had two more in this very cockpit.  Chairs were replaceable.  Din guided Marathel to lay back against him and tucked her head under the edge of his helmet. 

“This many Purrgil could destroy your ship.” 

“Then I will die with my clan in my arms,” said Din. 

Marathel’s heart ached.   She tried to blink back her tears, but failed.  Then she realized she could feel his body under hers.  “Did you remove your armor?” 

“Yes.” 

Marathel couldn’t help but smirk.  “You felt safe enough to remove your armor around me?” 

“It was a calculated risk.” 

“And you assumed you could get me on your lap.” 

Din stroked her arm.  “And I love you best, Marathel, when you open your sweet mouth and say things like that.”  

He was right of course, for Marathel felt the same way about him.  She didn’t speak again, but remained there in his chair, on his lap, along with Grogu, watching the Purrgil fly all around them.  The Purrgil continued to accompany the small ship through hyperspace, watching over the clan of three. 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

[ternfic]

Reboot

Chapter Nine

They finished rebuilding the spacecraft. It still had some of Rex’s signature dark blue and bright green, but mixed in with black, sky blue, and red, it wasn’t immediately recognizable as something of his anymore. He had to admit, the three of them really did work well together; the new ship was sleek, built for speed and stealth. Emmet crawled into one of the passenger seats in the back, and Lucy scooted in next to him, leaving Bad Cop as Rex’s copilot. Which suited him fine, really, Emmet was next to useless and having Lucy sit next to him was… well, he may have decided not to be mad at his old friends anymore, but it was still awkward.

“So do we have a plan for stopping the wedding yet?” Lucy asked.

“…We hadn’t gotten that far,” Emmet admitted.

“Well one way to do it would be to stop construction of the Temple-” Rex started.

“We’re not destroying it, Rex,” Emmet interrupted. “That’s what causes Armomageddon, and we don’t want that.” Lucy gave him a surprised look at how forcefully his words had come out.

“Aw, shit.”

Emmet gave Rex a startled look. “What?”

“We’ve got someone on our tail,” Bad Cop said, taking notice of the ship behind them as well.

“Buckle up!” Rex commanded. Emmet hastened to obey, knowing full well how his counterpart flew, and watched wide-eyed as a black and gold cruiser drew near and started firing on them.

“Who is that?!” the construction worker yelped.

“I saw that ship not too long ago, it landed at the spa and the two people in it talked to the General,” Lucy said, scowling in its direction.

“Mayhem’s two best scouts, Havoc and Discord,” Rex muttered, concentrating on evasive maneuvers. “They must have figured out I’m here, and they do not like me. Thought we’d have a little longer before they found us, though!”

“Anything I can do to help?” Bad Cop asked.

“Yeah get ready to shoot, I’m gonna try to get you lined up-”

Lucy could only stare in amazement at the aerobatics Rex put their ship through before finally shooting straight up in such a way even the Systarian ship couldn’t keep up with, and looping back so they were pointed right at it. Bad Cop took the opportunity and fired, managing to shoot off an aileron. The space orb wobbled a bit, but whoever was flying was easily as good a pilot as Rex, and they shot back. Lucy barely had time to gasp out a curse before the shot hit their ship, shattering it and scattering its occupants.

She flew helplessly through space, and realized with no small amount of wonder that she could still breathe. She barely had time to ponder that before the pod popped open to allow a figure in black armor to exit, and they flew straight for her. Unarmed and unable to control her flight path, she had no choice but to submit to capture.

Bad Cop could only lay on the floor in a daze after crashing through the window of one of the party buses. The loud music cut out immediately, and three familiar faces peered down at him with surprise and curiosity. They backed off as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes under his sunglasses.

“Bad Cop!” Unikitty cheered.

“You know this guy?” a Systarian asked, giving him a wary look.

“He’s a friend,” Benny answered, offering a hand to pull him back to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

Bad Cop’s first response was to curse softly before hurrying to repair the damaged window, lest the scouts come looking for him next. He’d just managed to get a glimpse of one of them grabbing Wyldstyle. That taken care of, he turned to his fellow Alterrans. “Looking for you, actually,” he finally answered.

What are the odds we’d crash into the bus they were on? Good Cop piped up.

Luck finally favors us for once, it seems.

“Well ye found us.” Metalbeard eyeballed him curiously. “Almost didn’t recognize ye, matey.”

“That’s rather the point.”

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Unikitty asked, giving him a worried look.

“We’re fine.”

“Why were you looking for us?” Benny pressed.

Bad Cop glanced around. There were maybe four Systarians present, including the driver, and they seemed even less capable of putting up a fight than Emmet. Unikitty let out a cry of shock as he leapt into action and knocked out the three humanoids, grabbing a rope light to tie them up with. “Put that radio down,” he growled at the driver, “and keep driving.” The zebra ducked his head and obeyed without question, and Bad Cop slammed shut the door between the cockpit and the cabin so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“What are you doing?!” Benny demanded.

“Rescuing you,” Bad Cop snapped back. “You’ve been brainwashed.”

“We have not!” Unikitty protested. “Just because we’re enjoying ourselves for the first time in years doesn’t mean we’ve been brainwashed-”

“No?” Bad Cop interrupted. “Cause you sure seemed taken in by the Queen’s song, back at the palace, won over in an instant by the promise of mere stuff.”

“Ye were there?”

“Yeah, we were, along with Emmet and his brother.” The three gave him a blank stare. “…You don’t remember. Of course.” He growled out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair as he thought, his gaze landing on Benny’s right arm, seemingly restored. An idea came to him. “Ben, take off your glove. No, the other one.” The astronaut gave him a strange look but complied, pulling off his right glove.

“What’s this about?”

“Do you remember how you lost your arm?”

The three of them stared at him as though he’d grown two more heads. “You sure you didn’t hit your head on the way in?” Benny asked in growing concern and held his arm up, wiggling five fingers. “Cause it sure looks like my arm to me.” He fell still when Bad Cop grabbed his bared hand, rubbing his thumb over the back, and slowly started to hyperventilate.

He couldn’t feel the cop’s touch.

“What-”

“What are ye doin’ to him?!” Metalbeard roared.

“Benny! Benny it’s okay, breathe-”

“I’m not doing anything to him,” Bad Cop said, keeping his tone calm and even. “It’s a pretty convincing replacement, but it’s still a prosthetic.”

“My- my arm-” Benny gave Bad Cop a pleading look. “What happened??”

“I need you to try to remember yourself, Ben. Okay? But I’ll start you off- you lost it about two years into our fight against the Duplos.”

Benny took in a shuddering breath, staring down at where their hands were still joined. He still couldn’t feel a thing, no matter how hard he tried to imagine it. He focused hard, trying to remember. Fighting against the Duplos- that was a good place to start. Slowly it started to come back to him.

“We… we were fighting the Duplos, weren’t we?” Bad Cop nodded. “It was night…”

“That’s right.”

“They caught us by surprise that time. Someone threw a grenade- I got caught in the shrapnel-”

“It sent a sheet of steel right through your arm.”

“And several big pieces of glass elsewhere… I almost didn’t make it.” He closed his eyes, shaking. “How could I have forgotten…”

Unikitty worked her jaw wordlessly for a moment. “We really were brainwashed, weren’t we?” she finally asked. “I forgot, too- you destroyed Cloud Cuckooland.”

“I did.”

“And I still haven’t forgiven you for that.”

“You haven’t.”

“Ye mentioned Emmet- he be the Special, aye?”

Bad Cop nodded, relief washing through him. “That’s right.”

Benny sighed. “The one person in Apocalypseburg that never changed…” He startled. “Wait- he’s here too?!”

Bad Cop managed a smile. “Of course he is, you’re the best friends he’s ever had.”

“And we forgot him!” Unikitty wailed. “I feel so awful now!”

“It was the song, wasn’t it?” Benny realized. “We didn’t start to forget until she started singing- and then at the spa, that really catchy song-”

“Wyldstyle were right,” Metalbeard groaned. “And we were so ready to just write her off as paranoid…”

“But at least now you remember,” Bad Cop said. “Which is good because we’re going to need your help to stop the ceremony.”

“LUCY!!” Emmet screamed, reaching for her even as they were thrown from the ship in opposing directions. Rex had been quick to grab him, then tugged up a sleeve to press a button on his watch. “Rex, what-”

“Give it a second,” his counterpart said. After a minute, Emmet spotted Rex’s spacesuit flying toward them, and nearly panicked when he was released so the suit could wrap around its owner unimpeded. Properly suited up once again Rex grabbed hold of him and pulled him close once more. “Hold on tight.” Emmet nodded and squeezed as hard as he could manage. The suit’s wings flipped out and the jetpack’s thrusters kicked on, and Rex carried him toward the closest planet. It looked like they would be hiding on Suburbia yet again.

Rex touched down gently and finally nudged Emmet into letting go of him. Emmet made sure he had his footing, then bounced. “That was so cool, the thing with the suit! I mean it just went zoom right to you! How’d you figure out how to do that?!”

“I saw it in a movie once,” Rex said.

“You gonna keep it on this time?”

“Yeah,” Rex sighed. “No doubt they already told Mayhem I’m here. The whole system’s gonna be on alert now, no point in trying to hide anymore.” Emmet nodded. “Come on, we gotta figure out another way to the Temple.”

“But Rex, we gotta get Lucy-”

“She’ll probably be taken there anyway. As it is, we don’t have the time to focus on just her anymore. She can look after herself. We gotta stop the ceremony before it seals everyone’s fates.”

Emmet debated remaining stubborn, then deflated with a sigh, and nodded. “You’re right… Hey, you think it’d work if I just marched up there and yelled ‘I object’? That’s supposed to stop a wedding from happening, right?”

Rex chuckled. “Certainly seems to in the movies, but I’m not so sure it’ll work for this.”

“What if we can get to Batman, convince him to say no-”

“He probably won’t be outside the Queen’s company from now on,” Rex mused. “They’re too desperate for this to work to leave him alone to have second thoughts for even a moment.”

Emmet huffed at him. “Sure, just keep shooting down all my suggestions. You just want an excuse to fight, don’t you?”

“Em, I don’t think we’ll have a choice. Especially not now that Lucy and I have both kicked the hornets’ nest.” Emmet folded his arms and sulked for a moment, trying to think of any other ideas that might work, when something- or rather, someone- caught his eye. He dropped his arms and stared. “Emmet? What is it-” He followed the construction worker’s gaze, tilting his head. “…Huh.”

“President Business??”

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[current-interest-writings]

A Babys Space Halloween

Mando x reader x baby yoda 

After leaving Navarro behind to begin to look for the child's people ( even if you didnt want to give him up). you had been traveling with din since tattooine. he trusted you to look after the child and be able to fight..... even if he didn't quite like it. but thats not the point. 

it was nearing the time of year at your home planet where Halloween is taking place, pumpkins being painted or cut into jack-o-lanterns to glow in the dark of night. children and adults dressing up as characters or just dressing up in general. a time of candy and fun. it was something you missed the most of your home. and looking at your small son you wanted him to partake in this tradition as well, for as long as you had him for. and you knew you had the perfect costume for the little one. you just had to convince your riduur to let you carve pumpkins and have them on the crest for a little bit.

as you walked up behind your riduur in the cockpit he turned around to look at you through his visor. you tilted your head and gave him a sweet smile that usually ended with you getting your way. “ My dear husband, I know you are not one to follow traditions outside of your own for holidays, ( excluding the times he's tried like for Christmas). But on my home planet around this time we have a day called Halloween. I wanna know if I can bring it on the crest?” You rested a hand on his pauldron.

he tilted his head more at to look at your face and tilt his head, even though you knew what he looked like he still found comfort in wearing his bucket so you never pressured him into removing it. He sighed “ and what are apart of these tradtions of yours” you squealed in excitement and rattled off the list of things you needed.

------------------------------------time skip---------------------------------------------------

Din walked down the ramp to go gather materials needed for the ship and for you to decorate the hull of the crest. He promised to get back in three hours, which left you and the child to your own devices for a while. you looked at the child “ my little trouble maker do you want to help me with something?” He’s at your leg try to crawl up your pant leg. “I’ll take that as a yes”

You grabbed the youngling and grabbed some of the scrap pieces Din kept around the ship for emergency repairs. “Time to get to work on this costume”

A few hours later din is walking back to the ship with some pumpkin-like plants and he sees you have placed your lights back up in the Hull of the ship but these ones are purple, where you keep them he doesn't know. but he knows he hears you in the sleep area and has missed you and the child.

"hold on little one, I know he is back but you need to wait. One last finishing touch and you can show your Buir your little costume."

a few babbles can be heard from the kid as he responds to you

but a few moments later you came out from the area shielding the child from his view, you can almost feel your husband raise his eyebrow under the helmet.

you just gave him a small smile and dramatically spread your arms comically wide and said

"may I present to you the best bounty hunter in this parsec" The room door slides open

din felt his heart fill with warmth at the sight of the kid dressed like him..

grogu waddled up to his father and raised his arms

"alright cryika what next?" both of your boys look at you

" time to eat candy, stay up wayyyyyy to late and watch holo vids"

"thats it?"

'normally we would go door to door for candy, but i dont think you would be down to do that"

"alright.... which candy first"

the rest of the night was spent watching holovids and eating too mant sweets and cookies

[ari-3-achtung]

The Lines Drawn Between "Monster" and "Normal"

CW: Dick jokes, implied organ sex, descriptions of organs/violence, Replikas have retractable fangs/tusks, combat Replikas have indigo oxidant, body horror

Contains Original Characters/Replika models.

PARTS 1 AND 2

Summary: the defective units get to work making everyone's lives alot worse.

ACHTUNG! ACHTUNG!

What...? I'm losing?

VITALZEICHEN KRITISCH!

This can't end here.

INTERNE SCHÄDEN ERKANNT!

WAKE. UP.

-

So many warnings and alerts. Can't even see past them. This vent beast had got to go. And yet I'm laying here, unable to do a goddam thing, barely holding on as the beast tries tugging me into the vent system.

I'm a DNGR. I'M A FUCKING DNGR, BITCH!

Drongo roared in fury, pushing past any pain in her way as she forced her leg out of INSEKT's grip. Frantically crawling back out of the vent, breathing heavy and heart pumping rapidly. Her whole body felt like it was surging in a raging fire of pain. Dragging herself across the floor, Drongo couldn't even make it to the door of the small closet before a Kolibri came and called in medics. Surely she was fine-

Or not. Her leg was fucking ripped in half, the lower portion long gone by now. Deep indigo oxidant pooled on the floor, staining the tiles as she weakly mumbled the Commander's name. The last thing she saw before passing out was EULR medics gathering around and preparing to move her.

THIS SPACE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK.

Not dead. Not dead is good. But I don't necessarily feel alive either.

The air smelt painfully clean, burning into Drongo's sense of smell with each intake of oxygen. Eule nurses worked near her or next to her, murmuring to eachother about the incident.

"If it took down- (something)- DNGR that easily, who knows what it could do to- (something something something.)"

Being injured sucks, can't hear a damn thing these Starling lickers are saying about me. I suppose I should be nicer considering they're saving me. I hope that vent beast chokes on it's own dick and dies. Wait- where's Kondor? Does she know where I am? Does she know I'm okay?

Her shell is stained with oxidant, but her leg seems to have stopped bleeding until it's repaired. And- oh. This is uncomfortable. Her signature green armor had been removed, her organs and titanium skeleton revealed under her chestplate. Weird. Doesn't hurt. It was honestly hypnotic watching her own heart pump oxidant through her body. She tested a few breaths, eyes focused on the way her lungs filled and emptied.

"Looks like someone's finally awake."

Said one Eule.

"I'd say she looks like she could use another hour of sleep."

"I just... got my fucking leg... ripped off-... and you're treating me- grrf- like a child...!"

She really hated how weak her voice sounded right now.

"Fiesty for someone we just brought back from the brink of death. You're lucky."

"DNGRs aren't common, likely not cheap. It'll be a while before we get a replacement leg."

"Which also means you'll likely be salvageable instead of scrapped."

As the Eules spoke, they resumed their work— carefully sifting through her organs, double checking to make sure everything was working.

"F-fuck-... warn me before you do that..-? Feels so... weird..." Drongo complained, while the two Eules just chuckled

"And where's Ko-.. the Commander..?"

"She's... busy. Said she didn't want anyone to talk to her unless it was really important."

Well shit. Today's just great.

"When can I go..-?"

"Soon."

"DRONGO A-FIVE-ONE-FOUR-ZERO-ONE!"

The Commander slammed open the door, rushing over to Drongo on hooves way too small for her legs. She's fucking gorgeous, even if she looks like she's about to kick the next person in her way and stomp their guts into the floor.

The shocked and fearful looks on the Eules faces weren't surprising, she was intimidating. More importantly, anger wasn't really her thing. It looked good on her, not that I'd ever admit it.

Drongo instinctively tried to sit up, seeing her insides shift loosely and the masked Eules telling her instantly to stay still, made her lay back down.

"Move. Now."

The Commander glared at the Eules, watching them nervously nod and step back. She stepped forward, looking at Drongo's missing leg.

"You. Didn't. THINK TO FUCKING TELL YOUR COMMANDER THAT OUR ONLY DNGR UNIT IS MISSING A LEG?"

"Well, ma'am, we didn't think you'd care much about it, you were busy and—"

"WHO GIVES A FUCK IF IM BUSY? DNGRS ARE EXPENSIVE ENOUGH AS IT IS!"

Logical reasons, yes, but also her just trying to hide her actual reasons.

"Get out."

"Ma'am-"

"GET. OUT."

The Eules nodded, scurrying out of the room. Her glorious KNDR knelt beside her, reaching to grab Drongo's hand, pressing a kiss to it.

"What the actual fuck happened to you?"

"I was only told of another vent incident, not that it was you or whatever happened-."

"Kondor, I'm fine. Stupid thing in the vents just took my leg, that's all."

"Losing a leg isn't fine."

"To me it is."

"Are you atleast comfortable? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine, baby."

"You won't be as long as that thing is alive."

"I won't let anyone hurt you like this. Again. Ever."

"You know what would make me feel better?"

"Mm?"

"If you stopped worrying so much. I'm a DNGR. One of the tanks of melee. My body can handle it, trust me."

"Drongo, seriously-"

"And guess what? This gives me a great opportunity to experiment."

Kondor just looked at Drongo with a disappointed expression. The DNGR looked around, seemingly searching for something on the bed with her limited mobility.

"Could you lower the bed a bit?"

"Are you seriously asking to fuck right now?"

"Pleaseee~?"

"Maybe later, baby."

THIS SPACE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK.

Tuning into her cadre's bioresonance, Millipede sat on a chair in the library, crossing her legs.

KLBR-A51402: -n't seen Isopod on duty recently, nor has she been responding to any communication.

KLBR-A51403: Reading her emotions lately, she seems really stressed.

KLBR-A51401: Millipede, you're closest to her. Go check on her.

KLBR-A51406: Will do.

-

Millipede's hands lingered over the doorknob to the KLBR dorm, emotions of stress, panic, and overwhelming fear filling her head in pulses. She grasped the doorknob and entered the room, eyes immediately darting over to Isopod's bed. The poor girl was hiding under her blanket and sobbing, all the transmitted emotions making her head throb in pain.

"Hey, Rolly, you okay?"

The blanket shifted, showing the faint movement of her tucking her head in and curling up further.

"Can I see you?"

"...No."

"Is there a reason why?"

"..Mhm..."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"...Maybe."

Millipede slowly sat on the bed, a small frown on her face. Isopod's shaky breaths tried to calm themselves as she uncovered her head from the blanket, wiping tears from her eyes. Her eyes widened briefly before her expression relaxed again, trying not to make Isopod's mood any worse. Isopod's eyes had shifted towards a more light pinkish hue, white stumpy growths sprouting symmetrically from her forehead.

"I- don't know what's happening-... I didn't notice a-anything off at first-"

Isopod's breaths got shakier again, eyes glossing over with tears.

"Hey, hey. Just breathe. You're okay."

"I thought it was just a small disturbance-.. t-that it would just go away on it's own. But today, it j-just got a whole lot worse..."

Isopod took more of the blanket off, showing off-white patches of scaly plating over her hands and legs. More white stumps dotted along the sides of her waist and hips, smoothly blending into the shell.

"Am I going t-to turn up l-like that horrid vent beast-?"

"Of course not, Rolly. You'd never have the heart to harm a soul. And plus, I think the colors look good on you."

-

Stiefel was in the middle of prepping food for the next mealtime, chopping carrots and potatoes for a soup. She lifted her head at the sound of the door opening. Two Kolibri, one seemingly trying to escort and comfort the second, funny looking, Kolibri which looked like she'd been crying recently.

"Hey, Stiefel, mind if I grab something for Isopod? She's not feeling all that great currently."

"No problem, is she wanting anything in particular?"

Isopod mumbled something to the other Kolibri.

"Cookies, I'd understand if you don't have time for that."

"I can start them right now, where do you two plan to be headed off to? I can bring them."

"Just back to our dorm, thank you, Stiefel."

As the two headed to leave, Isopod smiled and waved goodbye to the Eule, mouthing a 'thank you.'

-

Stiefel had passed on the responsibility of the soup onto another kitchen Eule before leaving to go to the Kolibri dorm, entering the room with a plate of cookies for Isopod. The other Kolibri was sitting on a bed with Isopod bundled up in blankets and reading a book. She sat up to look at the Eule, smile instantly reappearing, like she were specifically hoping for Stiefel.

-

And then the next cycle.

The stumps on Isopod's head grew to long off-white antennae, eyes fully shifted to a reddish pink, the scaly plates on her hands and legs growing while the stumps on her waist and hips became small insect legs, and white streaks had started recoloring her hair.

What had she done to get such a change? The last thing she wanted was to be associated with the monster in the vents killing off Replikas and Gestalts.

THIS SPACE INTENTIONALLY LEFT BLANK.

[possuminabathtub]

WIP Word Search

I wasn't tagged specifically by @painted-doe but their word search snippets inspired me, so I decided to go see what I could find in my own wip's! (some of the snippets are probably more than snippets, but here we are) Keywords : ignore, kind, lose, silver

ignore From "It was just red", a fic set in the 50's where someone new is brought onto the Winter Soldier Project.

  She spoke, incessantly and at length, to herself, to him, to whatever gods deigned to listen, even to the stone walls. After she had determined that he wouldn't kill her, she'd begun muttering to herself and had not stopped since. Italian, English, and some indeterminable mix of the two. Sometime into the fourth(?) day he'd wondered if she was still trying to annoy him into killing her. It wouldn't work, although the thought was briefly tempting at times. 

  Sometimes, she would ask him a question or needle at him with her words, trying to get some sort of a response, but he would just stare straight ahead and wait for her to lose interest. It wasn't worth getting attached. To get attached to someone was to practically invite Hydra to exploit that vulnerability, and they would not let her death be easy or quick. So he ignored her, the only thing that he actually could do. 

  Presently, she was raking her fingers through her tangled hair, near matted at the back of her skull where dried blood had pooled and solidified. An annoyed sound rattled in the back of her throat, and she chewed on one of her fingernails, trying to even out the jagged edges that kept catching on her hair. Watching her continue to struggle with the simple task was such an inconsequential thing, but finally he let out a sigh. 

  "Stop." He caught the way she froze, limbs all going still at precisely the same instant, as if just remembering he was there. "You're going to rip your hair out." He explained as she stared at him.

kind From a thought experiment au where I threw my oc, Firebird, into the Arcane universe.

 “How are you doing that?” He asked curiously, watching the flesh regrow and repair at a pace that shouldn’t have been possible. 

  She glanced down at her torso and apparently determined it to be healed enough as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, bringing her wings with her and using them as crutches to help her stand, unsteady on her feet in a way that Viktor recognized too easily. She studied him, then peered around at the rest of the lab, brown eyes sharp and intelligent despite the glaze of pain. 

  “Where are we?” She asked, her accent strikingly similar to his own. From the Undercity then, but how had she gotten here? Why had the Hexcore spit her out here?

  “My laboratory, in the Piltover Academy,” He answered, and her eyes showed no recognition, just sharpened at the word laboratory. He couldn’t judge her that, considering her condition. The undercity’s laboratories were not kind, not to their scientists nor their subjects. She settled her gaze on the Hexcore silently, so he spoke again, “My name is Viktor, what is yours?” 

  She looked away from the shuddering Hexcore and regarded him with a narrow stare, assessing him before answering. 

  “I do not know.” 

lose From "Demons and Dreamers" an old Demon Slayer ficI haven't touched in forever, but apparently it's the only time I've used the word lose.

Spiders crawled across her skin, drowning her in a sea of the tiny creatures and their multitudes of legs. The faint sound of crying echoed through the boundless space of her dream, and threads hung in the air like a puzzle. The spiders began to disperse and a thin screen with a light behind it came into view. The shadowy shape of a monstrous spider got closer and closer to the screen until it ripped through it like it was tissue paper. A single dandelion grew out of nowhere but was buried beneath the flood of spiders.

She tried to back away and found herself tumbling through empty space until she landed harshly on a flat surface. She scrambled to her feet and found herself face to face with her own reflection. Her eyes were both red and the pupils no more than sharp black slashes. Fangs dripping with blood protruded from her mouth and her veins were raised beneath her pale alabaster skin. The reflection snarled and lashed out with a nasty smirk. “Don’t lose yourself, little fox.”

silver From "Souls Intertwined by Pride and Guilt", a canon divergent and largely oc-centric Marvel fic

He couldn't remember arriving here, though he distinctly recalled tossing and turning in his bed at the Tower.  A dream, then, he decided. A far cry from the usual blood and horror that drenched his thoughts when he fell into a fitful sleep, but he certainly wasn't complaining about the shift in genre. 

  Settling into his new habit of trying to pull as much detail from his dreams, or memories, he glanced down at his hands, finding one of silvery metal and the other of flesh, expected but not an entirely unpleasant recognition. He found a pair of pants, his, draped across the foot of the bed as he stood and glanced around.

  The fabric looked a little worse for wear, but had clearly been carefully patched more than once, if the slightly awkward and sometimes overlapping stitching was anything to go off of. A similarly cared for shirt was beneath it, and he pulled it on before padding out of the room on bare feet, wooden floorboards creaking faintly beneath his steps.

  A small kitchen was farthest away from the bedroom, and the space between the two was filled by a wood fireplace that seemed to be burning brightly, accompanied by a rug sprawled out across the floor and a singular, well loved, leather armchair. 

I think most of my mutuals have probably already been tagged, so consider this an open invite to anyone that wants to play! Keywords are: feel, dawn, worth, truth