#Protect Your Teeth

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[bayleavesfromthevine]

man literally bit through the stick. dentists must hate him

[odetokeons]

top three most romantic gifts of all time

[qoldenskies]

cc!leo is so weird and fun to write because i have to capture the spectrum of him impossibly gentle and caring, goofy and nonchalant to make everyone feel better, and INSANELY invested in the prospect of brutally murdering someone all at the same time and writing ch23 really illuminates that for me lmao. like the characters just kind of take me places that i dont expect and apparently the answer to "what happens when you strip leo of all his layers of facade and make him forced to hurt the most important person in his life through horrifying mind control?" in this extremely specific instance was uhhhh. Bloodthirsty! apparently

he's so funny to me like bro can you CHILL

[tarpitbell]

3:53

Can I suggest Willard! by Will Wood to be a therian song?

[s0fter-sin]

09 soapghost au, ghost was a member of soap’s unit before roba and they were together until he was taken. when he comes back and takes up the ghost mantle, simon riley is declared KIA and the hope that soap had let kindle in his heart that he’d come back to him dies. he throws himself into training, into becoming captain so he won’t let down another soldier the way he let simon down

then he recruits ghost to the 141 and ghost sees how much he’s changed, how much harder he is; slow to smile, never relaxing and he realises how much he fucked up by never reaching out. he’d thought he’d be better off without him, without the shell of the man he used to love but he’d done nothing but hurt him

after the close call with shepherd, soap wants to get right back into it, wants to hunt makarov down for almost getting his sergeant and lieutenant killed and ghost is yelling at him to just take it easy and heal first when soap snaps back, “i can’t lose anyone else! not again!” and ghost just rips his balaclava off, showing his face for the first time in years…

and soap says nothing. he just looks at him, completely unreadable. ghost clenches the balaclava in his hand, waiting for anything; even injured, soap can still pack a mean punch and he’s waiting for it, almost hoping for it… but he still does nothing. just stares

“well? c’mon!” he growls, stalking in closer. “let me have it! tell me how pissed you are! that i left you alone! that i ruined you the moment i touched you! that you regret ever fucking looking at me! scream, shout, say something!” until he’s leaning over soap’s chair, chest heaving

soap’s hand lifts and ghost can’t help his flinch before planting himself, ready to be struck, longing for it, to be punished the way he punishes himself-

soap’s hand gently cups his cheek and he freezes, breath catching as his thumb caresses the snake bite scars on his lip; feather-light and reverent. just like he used to

“you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you”

[peachierainbows]

daily reminder!!!

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [6]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, but with like immediate follow up comfort, medical trauma? if you’ve ever been blown off by a doctor in the office and that frustrated you then be forewarned

Word Count: 5,119

Summary: When  you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a   Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child.   However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous  night,  you found it to be the only feasible option you had left.  Nevarro was a  far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned  out to be  exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you  fall more  and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears  its ugly  head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #06: TRIKAR’LA, BUIR!    

Chapter Summary: Grogu goes to the doctor, and the Marshal decides he might need to murder said doctor. You get comforted by your boys.

 "Watch carefully,

 the magic that occurs,

 when you give a person,

 just enough comfort,

 to be themselves."

 - a t t i c u s

Nevarro didn’t have a large hospital. It had an emergency center and a clinic for routine appointments. Anything that couldn’t be healed or cared for within a day got transported to a nearby settlement on a neighboring world. Luckily, the transport time wasn’t very long, and Nima told you that the travel there wasn’t intense. The High Magistrate had worked out a deal to keep it that way.

Coming from a Level One Trauma Center on Coruscant, the office was shockingly puny. A simple two story building with emergency services on the first floor and routine medical care on the second. You had learned ages ago that the size of a medical center didn’t correlate to the kind of care a patient could receive. Some of the best physicians you’ve worked with came from smaller hospitals. You had no criticism there. The only thing that made you nervous was not having the kind of resources a Level One hospital would have. Coruscant had spoiled you in that sense.

For what had to be the hundredth time since leaving the station, you glanced over at Mando who walked right beside you. He held Grogu in his arms casually chatting with the boy. Grogu responded in a mix of Mando’a, Basic, and gibberish. It was painfully cute watching the Mandalorian interact with his son. Every inch of him screamed danger and intimidation, but the tender voice leaving his helmet’s modulator was nothing but soft and loving.

“Is something wrong?”

It took you a second to realize Mando was talking to you. “Hmm?”

“You keep looking over at me.”

You were getting pretty decent at reading Mando’s body language, and weirdly you could tell the difference between his head tilts. All of that, yet you still had a bad gauge on how far he could see out of his peripherals while wearing the helmet.

“Oh, er,” You scrambled for a response, “No. Nothing. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just checking on you.”

You opened your mouth but stopped yourself when you realized you were about to apologize for apologizing. Instead, you tried to steer the conversation away from your staring. “Do you know how many doctors work in Nevarro?”

“Not enough.” Mando replied. “Three rotate on the schedule right now, I think. Karga is still trying to recruit more, but until Nevarro really makes a name for itself it’s a hard sell.”

“It’s pretty impressive so far.” You motioned around to the clean and cheerful street surrounding you. “And growing fast.”

Mando nodded and your lips curled up in a smile as you watched him allow Grogu to crawl onto his shoulder and cling to his helmet. He kept one hand up just in case the child slipped. “Yes, but as always, it comes down to credits. Karga spent a lot to get this place built up. Doctors are expensive.”

“True, but if you’re gonna spend credits anywhere healthcare is a good bet.” You shrugged. “There are doctors out there who’ll take less pay to work somewhere rural. I⏤” You stopped yourself and at the sudden halt Mando glanced your way. You had nearly told him you once considered working in a rural setting. It hadn’t crossed your mind in ages, since before the incident, but you didn't think twice before nearly blurting it out. You cleared your throat. “I knew someone. From the clinic I worked in. They were specifically looking for a job somewhere rural.”

Mando nodded. “Maybe you should send their frequency number to Karga.” You forced out an awkward chuckle. “For now though, we have Bacta and cautery. You could probably find e-bacta if you asked the right people.”

“Spoken like a true bounty hunter.” You teased.

Mando let out a laugh and began to wrestle Grogu from the makeshift jungle gym of his shoulders and helmet. The clinic had come into view and you felt a ball of nervous energy begin to form in your chest. This wouldn’t be your first time in a medical facility since that night, but it would be your first time going willingly. All this morning, you hadn’t thought about it. You didn’t think this would bother you at all, but staring at the building now your mouth was becoming dry and your palms clammy.

The weight of a hand on your shoulder startled you, and your head snapped to the side to see Mando facing you. Nothing about his helmet looked concerning, but you could feel the worry radiating from him. “I’ve been calling your name. You didn’t answer.” Grogu hummed in his arms and tilted his head. “Are you sure everything is okay, cyar’ika?”

“Yes. Just...zoned out.” You tried to find an excuse, but nothing was coming to mind. So, you went for the next best thing. Topic change. “What does that word mean?”

“What?”

“The word you called me. Uh, ‘shar ekah’?” You repeated it best you could, but the word was always spoken so swift and softly that it was hard to remember the exact pronunciation. Saying ‘buir’ had been much easier.

Mando’s hand fell from your shoulder and his entire body went tense. You furrowed your eyebrows at his reaction. He let out a soft cough, and now it seemed like he was the one searching for something to say. Your distraction had been successful. However, now you were very curious as to what he was calling you. Mando didn’t seem like the type to secretly be calling you ‘dumbass’ all the time.

“It’s nearly 2.” He blurted. “We don’t want to be late.”

“Right!” You nodded. As curious as you were, you’d happily accept any advancement of this moment. Anything to avoid him asking you what was wrong again. He passed you to enter the building and you took in one last shaky breath before following.

The clinic’s waiting room was filled with children. This office saw patients of all ages, but with school starting up next week it seemed most families were doing exactly as Din was⏤ getting his child ready for day one. The schedule was running late so despite it being nearly half an hour past the appointment time, Din sat in the waiting room right beside you. Grogu had wiggled out of his lap to run around the room with other kids around his age. It made him nervous at first. He wanted his son to have friends to have fun to not ever feel left out, but the anxiety of him not fitting in was painful. You had reassured him that everything was fine, and you had been right. Grogu squealed and laughed as he played with three other kids.

Din was leaning back in his seat, hands clasped over his abdomen and ankles crossed, in an attempt to look as casual as he possibly could. The truth was the opposite. Din couldn’t stop peering out of the corner of his eyes at you. Luckily, the helmet made it a lot easier for him to hide his actions unlike you. Din was still worried about you. It was obvious something was making you uncomfortable, and he had been determined to get to the bottom of it. Until, of course, you innocently asked what ‘cyar’ika’ meant. That had thrown him.

The first time he called you ‘cyar’ika’ it had been entirely accidental. You had been hesitant about asking him questions about himself, and he didn’t want you to feel that way. In his reassurance the word had just slipped out. Since then, it fell out a lot more. Often by choice. Din liked the way it sounded when he was referring to you with it. He liked that every time it left his lips, you’d turn to give him attention with your pretty smile.

Technically, the answer shouldn’t be embarrassing to him. The best translation of ‘cyar’ika’ was ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’, but that didn’t necessarily mean it had to be used in a romantic setting alone. It was a generalized term of endearment. He could’ve said that. Din’s problem was that he knew, deep down, he didn’t feel just a ‘generalized endearment’ for you. Din was much too attracted to you to pretend it was said with any other connotation.

His panic hadn’t helped his situation. Din spent his entire life being trained for a fight. He was taught from a young age that panic led to mistakes and mistakes led to death or worse. It had been ingrained into every single cell of his body to the point where staying calm was a muscle memory for him. It didn’t take a conscious decision. It was his default, and that default was half the reason he was so successful as a bounty hunter. Despite all of that, all it took was one innocent look from you⏤ one simple question⏤ and he melted into a pathetic puddle.

Din glanced your way again. You sat ramrod straight in your seat, shoulders tense, and your fingers were tangled together in a vice grip. He wasn’t sure how you weren’t hurting yourself holding your hands together like that. Whereas his entire body sat casual, though a farce, yours screamed stress. His own hands came unclasped as the urge to touch you in reassurance overcame him. Din managed to resist and instead crossed his arms in hopes that this position would better control his instinct.

“I haven’t been to a doctors office in a while.” You blurted. The sound of your voice had his head snap to look at you in a nearly comical speed. You were watching Grogu play while you spoke in a whisper. “I guess I’m just nervous. It’s stupid.”

“How you feel is never stupid.” Din replied. He shifted so he sat up rather than leaned back. “You didn’t have to come with us. If I had known—”

You chuckled, “I know. You wouldn’t have made me. I think you might be a little too understanding for a boss.” Din swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. That was true. Kriff, if you knew any of the thoughts he had you’d consider him the worst boss in this world— maybe in the entire Outer Rim. “I wanted to be here. For Grogu and— and you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Din disagreed. You were acting against an active fear you had for him and his son. That meant a lot to him. He knew the kind of strength it took to press onward into a setting of discomfort.

“Can I ask why?” Din asked. “Why haven’t you been to a clinic in a while?”

You shrugged and your gaze drifted down to your hands which you began to wring together. Din stayed silent. He was content with giving you all the time in the world to respond. Finally, you looked up to meet his gaze. You smiled and your words came out jokingly, “Nobody likes doctors.”

“Still important to go now and then.”

“Uh huh.” You tilted your head at him, smile growing impish. “And when’s the last time you saw a doctor? Mr. Big Bad Bounty Hunter?”

Din’s lips curled up in amusement. He loved that you were comfortable enough to joke with and tease him. He shook his head. “I have bacta and a cautery at home. Those don’t require me to sit in a waiting room for 45 minutes.”

“Fair point.” You chuckled. “Bacta and cautery do have their own faults, you know.”

“Like?” Din asked. He didn’t really care about the faults of either, but if this distracted you from your nerves he’d play along. Plus, the sound of your voice was like music to his ears. He’d sit and listen to you read the instruction manual for a caf machine without complaint.

“Well,” You began, your shoulders beginning to relax, “Bacta is incredible. No doubt. Society called it a medical miracle and they weren’t wrong. It’s only as good as the person using it though. If the wound isn’t cleaned right or debris is left inside when the Bacta is applied then everything gets trapped inside as your tissue heals. Plus, if it’s already an internal issue Bacta can’t target that. It does nothing for fever control or symptom management.” Din could tell you were getting into the conversation because you twisted in your seat to face him. “If you use Bacta on a fracture, but you don’t set it right then it heals wrong. If you mess up the measurements in a Bacta tank or the settings are wrong it can ‘overheal’ a person which just means a person’s tissues and cells rejuvenate and are reborn so fast that it floods the body. Those excess cells wreck havoc and turn to tumors wherever they land.” Din let his eyes shamelessly trace your features. This was the first topic, other than Grogu, that he had seen you get so excited about. You pointed at him with a mocking grin, “And don’t get me started on a cautery gun.”

Din chuckled, “And what exactly is wrong with my cautery gun?”

“You’re essentially creating a wound to fix a different wound.” You scoffed. “It’s great for stemming blood loss and destroying infected tissue, but between infections and scarring⏤”

Din leaned toward you, a confident tilt to his head, “I’ve never had a cautery induced infection.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

You twisted your lips, amused, and he shifted so he was as close to you as he could manage in the separate chairs. You shook your head. “Fine. You, Marshal Mando, are the one exception of the system. Congratulations.”

Din let out a breathy laugh, and he wondered what it would sound like to hear his name spoken in your voice. The beeping of his communicator made you alter your position in the chair so you were back to where you had started. Din did the same and resisted muttering the curse words bouncing around in his head. Looking at the screen he saw it was Cara. Dank farrik. She’d only call if it were actually important.

He accepted the call and Cara started talking without preamble.

“Mando, we got pirates. Mayfeld and I are on our way to the tarmac where a group of them are causing trouble, but Karga said a few were spotted by the school.”

This time he didn’t hold back the curse that came to mind. Din turned to look at you and you gave him a reassuring nod. “Go.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Din stood.

“We’ll probably still be in here.” You motioned to the waiting room.

Din reached out to squeeze your shoulder and on his way out told Grogu to behave.

Kriffing pirates.

Mando had been an excellent distraction. You had never been a fan of pirates at baseline, they were always the worst to deal with when they stumbled into the hospital in Coruscant, but now you really hated them. You tried to focus on Grogu who was still playing with a different set of kids as the ones he had been with before got called back to be seen. Before they left, you had actually exchanged a few frequency numbers to set up play dates at some point.

“Grogu?” A nurse poked her head out of a door.

He dropped the blocks he was holding to perk up at the sound of his name. Still in a playful and active mood, Grogu wanted to walk on his own rather than be held so you walked by his side as you both followed behind the nurse.

She went about taking vitals and getting some more information before leading you back to a simple room. You sat down in one of the two chairs in the corner, by the exam table, and let Grogu bounce around the room to burn off his excess energy.

“You are gonna sleep so good tonight.” You chuckled.

“No sleep. No.” Grogu chirped. “No, no.”

That was quickly becoming one of the kid’s favorite Basic words to use. You glanced up at the clock on the wall to see it was about an hour after your appointment time. Understaffed clinics got backed up, it happened, and you understood that better than most. You felt bad for the poor physician running around the office today. You were actually hoping you’d have to wait a bit longer though.

Mando wanted to be here for this, to be here for his son, and you hated that the damned pirates got in the way of that. If you could swap roles with him and handle the pirates so he could stay here with his son you would’ve. Unfortunately, that would’ve been messy for every single person involved. You didn’t have an extensive history doing well in a fight, and the only kind of blade you knew how to use was a scalpel. You’d never even held a blaster before.

“Skraan!” Grogu called out.

You shook your head. “We just ate lunch, buddy. I think we have some snacks left.” You dug around the baby bag you had packed for the day and found the container of star shaped cereal puffs you had put together this morning. “Here we go.”

Grogu bounced over to you happily and held his hands up to you. You dropped a few stars into his palms and watched him eat them one by one. He’d explored the room while eating the stars and would only return back to you for more stars. That became the routine for the next ten minutes and by then you were out of star shaped snacks.

A knock at the door startled you. “Come in!” You placed the container into the bag and motioned for Grogu to come sit on your lap. “Hi. I’m⏤”

“This is Grogu?” The man interrupted your introduction. He was older, you’d guess in his late sixties or early seventies, and was human. Thick gray hair covered his head and it matched the thick mustache above his lips.

“Yes. We’re here for⏤”

“Let’s see, school registration check up.” He read off the holopad in his hand. You shifted in your seat, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, and bit back a snarky reply. “We’ll get some blood for lab work, give the usual booster shots, and get you on your way, yeah?”

You held Grogu’s hands, skeptical, “I was actually hoping⏤”

“There’s no need for⏤”

“Please stop interrupting me.” You snapped. There was nothing you hated more than not being able to get a thought out. Maybe you’d have more patience for it if you hadn’t spent all your training being looked down at for being a young woman. You couldn’t count the number of bloated attendings you worked under who were just like the man in front of you. The doctor stayed silent but you could see annoyance on his features. “Who are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“When you came in, you never introduced yourself.” You said but paused before saying more. This wasn’t a hospital you had any sort of credentialing in. That meant if you wanted anything done, you were gonna have to stroke an ego. You cleared your throat and shook your head. “Sorry, I’m sure it slipped your mind with how busy you are today. I bet they have you running all over the place.”

The man chuckled. “You aren’t wrong. My name is Dr. Daelar. I am sorry about the wait time. I was caught in a different procedure room for the last hour doing a cryoablation of some skin lesions.” You resisted the urge to scoff. Doing cryoablation correctly took five minutes tops. Doing it insanely, incorrectly could maybe stretch it out to ten. You didn’t appreciate the excuse because you knew it was a lie. “As I was saying, we’ll draw some blood and get those booster shots going.”

“Thank you. We’re actually going to be forgoing the blood tests, and I was hoping you’d take a listen to his lungs.” You replied. Over lunch, Mando had explained that he wasn’t comfortable with anybody drawing blood from Grogu. He hadn’t explained the exact reasoning, but you gathered it was something from their tricky past. Even with your back to him, you could tell the topic made him mildly uncomfortable. “He’s had this night time cough I’ve noticed⏤”

Daelar shook his head. “That’s not wise. I strongly recommend the blood tests.”

“Okay.” You drew the word out. “Thank you, and I appreciate your thoughts on the matter⏤”

“These aren’t my thoughts, these are the facts.” Daelar interrupted again. “Blood work should be checked routinely for chronic illnesses. He needs this done.”

You didn’t know if Grogu could tell that you were in a bad mood, but he began to squirm and whine in your lap. He turned around and pushed up on his tip toes so he could bury his face into the crook of your neck. You scooped him up to hold him closer making the action easier.

“I understand the benefits of routine lab work, and I understand the risks of refusing.” You said as calmly as you could. If this was about legal issues then you’d say the magic words that he could type in his chart and waive all liability off himself. “That being said, we’re still refusing a blood draw today.”

Daelar scoffed and shook his head. “You’re being unreasonable. As a first time mom it’s understandable to be nervous and jittery, but it’s no reason to put your son at risk.”

Oh, you really didn’t like this man. Karga had somehow managed to hire a physician that represented everything wrong with healthcare. Nice. Between the bullying and assumptions, that would be enough to piss you off alone. Add the stress of being in a clinic after so long? You really had no chance of getting out of this without losing your cool.

“You’re not drawing labs on Grogu.” You snapped.

Daelar shook his head and shrugged. “Then I don’t know if I can clear him to start school.”

“Blood work isn’t necessary for school registration. Just the boosters.” Your voice began to raise.

“Ma’am⏤” He began once more but a solid knock at the door interrupted the interaction. A nurse poked her head in one second later and Daelar snapped at her. “We’re busy in here.”

“Sorry, sir. The child’s father is here.”

Daelar smirked at you. “Good. Perhaps, this will settle the matter at hand.”

The nurse slid out of the room and was replaced by Mando. You took in the sight of him, unharmed and unmarred, and a wave of relief washed over you. If dealing with the pirates had led to a fire fight then Mando came away with no obvious injuries. Mando’s helmet tilted just a bit and you could feel his eyes on you in the same way you had looked over him. His shoulders stiffened marginally, his stance still intimidating, and you wondered if your anger was notable. You rubbed Grogu’s back soothingly.

“Oh. Marshal!” Daelar greeted. “I had no idea this was your son. I⏤”

“What’s wrong?” Mando walked over to stand beside you, ignoring Daelar entirely. He rubbed Grogu’s head and let his hand trail from his son’s head to rest on your upper back. The way he stood beside your seat nearly blocked Daelar from your view.

You lifted your chin to stare up at the T-shaped visor. “Dr. Daelar has been adamant about a blood draw despite my very clear refusal.”

Mando turned around and his hands drifted to his hips. Daelar shifted awkwardly from across the room and he let out a cough. The doctor held his hands up with a smile, “No, I think this is simply a misunderstanding.” Your eyes widened, jaw falling open. “The little Mrs," Again with the assumptions, “She misunderstood me is all. I was simply offering my recommendation, but obviously the decision falls to your hands at the end of the day. We can just work on the boosters and finish the paperwork for registration.”

A disbelieving guffaw left your throat at the audacity of this man. Mando glanced over his shoulder down at you, and you took a sharp breath through your nose. Whatever. As long as Grogu got the care he needed. Mando looked back to Daelar.

“Have you listened to my son’s lungs?”

Daelar’s eyes widened. “Hmm? Why?”

“I know Soran would have brought it up. She’s attentive. Was there a misunderstanding about Grogu’s cough?”

“No. Not at all. Sorry.” Daelar sighed. “Bring the little guy over to the exam table.”

Without speaking, Mando held his arms out to take Grogu, and you tried to hand him over. Grogu clung to your shirt, his claws digging into the material, and he buried his face further into your neck. He grumbled, “No.” You shot Mando a look, and he reached out to help detangle Grogu from you. The little boy didn’t give in.

“Grogu.” Mando said firmly. He set a hand on his back. “Come to me, ad’ika.”

“No, no!” Grogu finally lifted his head to look at his father’s visor. He shook his head and you had to lean back to keep his ears from hitting you. Grogu whined, “Trikar’la, buir!”

Despite all the tension, despite the fact that you still only knew very, very basic Mando’a, you gasped with a swell of pride. Unable to bite back the smile you wore, you cooed. “Grogu, that was so good.” You had no idea what he said beyond referring to his father, but his words sounded like it could’ve been a full sentence. Plus, he had said it in front of Daelar, a virtual stranger. “Good job, sweetie.”

You lifted your eyes to Mando, expecting a similar reaction, but his entire frame was tense. Again, his helmet gave no signs of anger, but a seething energy radiated from him. You furrowed your brow in confusion. Grogu went back to hiding his face in the crook of your neck, hugging you, and Mando shifted his hands so one rested on your back and arm.

“Let me help you up.” Mando whispered in a kind tone. “You can sit on the exam table with him.”

“Alright.” You mumbled.

You didn’t need any help standing, but Mando kept his hands on you while you rose and all the way to the exam table. Once you sat down on the sanitation paper, Mando settled beside you. He kept his arm behind you, his hand leaning on the table by your opposite thigh. You turned to look at Mando, and because of his positioning you found yourself dangerously close to his chest. If you leaned forward you could bury your face in the crook of his neck the same way Grogu was doing to you.

His head began to turn to look at you and you quickly focused your gaze forward. Daelar came over with his stethoscope and began to listen to Grogu’s lungs. He did this for a few minutes before pulling back with a nod. Daelar cleared his throat. “I’m hearing a little wheezing. Very mild. I can prescribe a nebulizer treatment at home before he goes to bed. Hold the mask over his face and just let him breathe in the medicine.”

“Thank you.” Mando said, but his tone was more intimidating than grateful.

“I’ll send a nurse in with the boosters and the medicine.” Daelar said before rushing out of the room.

You scoffed, still in disbelief on how that had gone, but when the door closed Mando shifted so he stood directly in front of you. Now he had a hand resting on the table on either side of your thighs. You blinked in surprise at the sudden motion.

“Are you alright?” Mando asked.

You forced a chuckle. “Yeah. I mean, that guy was a total ass, but he wasn’t the first jerk I’ve dealt with. Won’t be the last.” You continued rubbing Grogu’s back, not knowing what else to do with your own hands. “Granted, I could’ve done without the gaslighting, but…” It occurred to you then that Mando hadn’t hesitated to take your side. “Thanks. For having my back, I mean.”

“Always.” Mando replied with ease. He let out a soft sigh. “I’m talking to Karga about this.”

You laughed. “You’re gonna get a doctor fired because he was rude to me?” Mando didn’t reply, but his shrug was highly unconvincing. “It’s fine.”

“He upset you. That’s not fine. Grogu said⏤”

You gasped, “Yeah! What did Grogu say?”

Mando paused before leaning back. “He said you were sad.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you glanced down to gently pull Grogu away from your chest to look at him. He stared up at you with concern in his large eyes, and you gave him a smile. “I’m okay.” You gave his head a light scratch and let your fingers trail to give his ear a light, loving tongue. “Thanks for looking out for me, little guy.”

Grogu lifted his hands toward your face so you brought it down toward him. He lightly patted your cheeks and did the same thing he did this morning⏤ pressed his forehead as close to yours as you could get it. Everyone in Nevarro showed different forms of affection to Grogu, he was too cute to not pay attention to, but the most important sign of affection was the way Mando lightly set his forehead to his. You had to assume that in Grogu’s mind, that was an important thing. The fact that he was sharing that bit of love with you was overwhelming. You tried not to linger on the thought too long this morning⏤ not wanting to fall apart⏤ but Mando being here sticking up for you without hesitation only added to the situation.

You felt yourself begin to get choked up and quickly cleared your throat.

“Here. Why don’t you go to your dad?” You held out Grogu, and Mando must have sensed your distress because he took the child with no question. You gave him a broad smile. “I⏤I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

You hopped off the exam table and as you pulled the door open Mando called out. “Are you sure you’re alright, cyar’ika?”

You let a wide smile fill your features, every bit of real, and nodded sincerely, “I am. I promise. I’m⏤ This…” Considering how grateful you felt right now, you owed him as much truth as you could give. You nodded. “This is the best I’ve felt in a really long time.”

Mando nodded once, silent. Grogu lifted a hand and gave you a small wave. You rushed out of the room and made a beeline straight for the bathroom you had passed on the way into the procedure room. Finally away from prying eyes, you leaned against the locked bathroom door and began to trace the scar along your collarbone. Even with your fingers ghosting over the ugly patch of skin, you felt happy⏤ cared for. Maker, you didn’t think you’d actually feel that way ever again.

mando’a translations:

cyar’ika: darling, sweetheart

trikar’la: sad

buir: father

[hrodvitnon]

SIGNALIS Big Teef Fic Preview!

Did anybody want a fic with the Big Teef? No? Well, too bad, you're getting one anyway. Have a taste!

---

"Hey, when were you going to tell me you have fangs?"

Elster pauses, having just gotten engrossed in a scene of tense questioning.  "Excuse me?"

Ariane sits beside her at the table, lays down the Replika overview, leans her elbows on it and rests her chin on folded hands, giving the Replika a look that to any Gestalt would be similar to a parent wanting to know why their kids didn't do what was asked of them – or rather, like she's taken on the role of detective in the midst of questioning.  Elster lifts her eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

Ariane elaborates as if telling an anecdote from her Rotfront years.  "I looked through the Replika overview again to see if there was anything I could pick up to help you out, or do something for you, when... in the corner of my little eye, I spy... a schematic.  A schematic, El Bell.  Of retractable canine teeth.  Which you are in possession of, and neglected to inform me."

Elster closes her eyes, knowing where this is going.

"Ariane."

"Now, I don't ask the time of day from a clock..."

"Liebchen."

"But I'm not shy about how hot I am for nibbles and love bites..."

"Light of my life."

"And you didn't think to tell me?  When were you going to tell me?"

"Settle down, dramatic.  They're for self-defense, not for sexy time.  Besides, it's not even unique to LSTRs – all Replikas have them."

Ariane blinks in surprise.  "Wait, seriously?  Even Eules?"  Having such teeth makes sense for a Storch or Star, but an Eule?

"Absolutely.  I once heard that a secretary unit back at headquarters almost bit the fingers off an untrained Storch who got too ugly with her.  Not sure how it ended, but I like to think Frau Beißer got off with a warning and the Storch never lived it down.  Self-defense, like I said.  With combat units it's a last resort in case one runs out of ammunition or doesn't have a melee weapon ready."

Ariane's eyes widen.  Eules always looked so delicate to her with how lightly they carried themselves, but it seems even those domestic units are made of sterner stuff than expected.  Her eyes lower to Elster's mouth.  Elster gives her a knowing look.

"No."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You have that 'in the interest of science' look on your face."

"I just want to see them for myself!  There's nothing wrong with that!  Show me, please?  It's not like I'll ever see them in a combat situation, unless we get picked up by aliens or something."

Elster stares.  Ariane stares back, pleading and doe-eyed, just seconds away from deploying the dreaded pouty bottom lip.  Elster gives in, of course.  She can never really refuse humoring her love, so she teasingly grouses like it's such a chore.

"Ach, fine."

Ariane tries not to drum her fingers happily while Elster pops the mandibles in her jaw, mouth opening.  Nothing out of the ordinary, just 28 white teeth – go figure Replikas aren't manufactured with wisdom teeth – and then Elster curls her lips back wolfishly, her canines extending with an audible click.

There is, of course, the knee-jerk flicker of saucy fascination since Ariane does so love when Elster bites her, but in the moment it's also tempered by actual scientific curiosity.  Elster's lengthened teeth are only sharp at the very tips, as Ariane knows from experience, so while they probably can pierce through flesh or biomechanical components they must be intended for crushing and tearing, clamping down and keeping a steady grip thanks to powerful jaws.

A rather specific detail from the Replika overview comes to mind: the LSTR unit has a bite force of 1250 PSI at minimum.  Ariane's heard of certain Vinetan animals having a comparable bite, capable of piercing through the skulls of their prey.  The knowledge of this results in a revelatory daydream of hostile alien forces intercepting their little ship and abducting Ariane, causing Elster to crush an extraterrestrial skull or spine between her teeth as she goes in a rampaging rescue...

"Ari," Elster drawls.  The extended fangs seem to mess with her speech, an added lisp causing her accent to border on nonsensical.  "Ye hab dat look."

Ariane shakes her head.  "I wasn't thinking of anything sexy this time, honest!"

"Uh-huh.  Cad I pud dese away now?  Iz hahd to talk."

[narugen]

i seriously need more narumi and mina moments because just imagine the relief mina felt when narumi joined, similar age to her and was also considered a prodigy in the force.

to have someone to share the burden of the defence force’s future with must’ve felt so freeing. because before he joined it was just her, age 18, being told that she was going to change kaiju extermination with her exceptional synergy with firearms. and she was so, so scared.

narumi doesn’t have the kind of skills or talent for long range combat like she does, but he’s also a top candidate (despite his behavioural issues- which aren’t much of a hinderance anyway) and mina doesn’t have to carry the burden of the future alone anymore

(although she’d never admit, given she probably views narumi as someone completely shocking i just think it’s so funny how she stood there like O_O when she first saw him)

like i LOVE seeing the contrast. mina who was sent onto the battlefield for the first time and was deathly afraid vs narumi who was sent out and immediately took action because that’s how he always lived (fighting)

and now they’re the top two strongest captains in the force and they will be the ones to lead the new generation..

[bloodcoveredgf]

longlegs is a movie about mother/daughterhood for real. throws up thinking about it actually

[just-in-cays]

"we can get through this!" who the fuck is we 🤨

[the-wayside]

Phaya: fight him, pin him on his stomach so he can't escape.

Phaya: (later in the series) fuck him, pin him on his stomach so he can't escape.

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

something about qbad mentioning how much horror he put red team thru every time purgatory gets brought up... something about how proud dapper was of him.

like this is just my late-night read but- it feels like guilt qbad is trying to twist into pride. he keeps needling away at it. “i killed them all, over and over and over again.” “they were hunted by a monster.”

it’s like- reassurance. like a nail he’s trying o beat into his head. he’s had SO much trouble with legitimately hurting his friends, despite making that vow all the way back when the eggs first went missing, despite all the tree talk and the promises to save the kids no matter what. He never faltered with elq, and that protected them. He keeps faltering now. Sometimes he doesnt remember the code, or cucurucho, or skeppy. But that doesnt matter, right? Because he’ll protect the eggs. He’ll be the monster. he is the monster. he can and he will protect them even as his seams start ripping and he keeps breaking further and further apart. even at his worst, he’ll do whatever he needs to protect the eggs.

he’ll be the monster. wont he?

[evilasiangenius]

Not a lot of things one can control, but at least we can

stay hydrated

shower regularly

have good dental hygiene

be moisturized

eat regularly

stay warm and dry

rest and sleep

Seems kind of silly maybe, but if everything else is awful, at least we can show ourselves love and care