#Tinned Calamari

[askwhatsforlunch]

Risotto al Salmone e Calamari

I often think Sunday nights call for an easy meal, something simple and comforting. This Risotto al Salmone e Calamari, while it may sound fancy, is just that, a plate-ful of creamy comfort, livened up with fragrant herbs freshly picked in the garden. Have a good one!

Ingredients (serves 4 to 6):

2  tablespoons unsalted butter

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 onion

a small bunch Garden Chives 

a small bunch Garden Chervil

2 fluffy sprigs Garden Parsley

1 heaped tablespoon tinned calamari (kept in olive oil)

1 garlic clove, minced

2 cups arbororio rice

1/2 cup dry white wine, such as Pinot Grigio or Chardonnay

the (hard) end of a Parmesan cheese 

4 cups Fish Fumet, warmed

315 grams/11.10 ounces fresh salmon fillets

1 teaspoon coarse sea salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper

Parmesan

1/4 cup double cream

In a large pot or saucepan over a medium-high flame, melt butter with olive oil.

Peel and finely chop onion. Add chopped onion to the pot when the butter is foaming. Cook, a couple of minutes. 

Finely chop half of the Chives, Chervil and Parsley, and stir chopped herbs into the pot. Cook, 1 minute.

Add tinned calamari, and cook, another couple of minutes, until just browned. Stir in minced garlic, and cook, 1 minute more. Then, stir in arborio rice and coat well in fat, calamari, and herbs until translucent. Deglaze with Pinot Grigio. Reduce heat to medium and add the end of the Parmesan cheese to the pot.

Cook, stirring often, and gradually adding warmed Fish Fumet, until rice is cooked and most of the liquid is absorbed, about 25 minutes. 

Remove the skins from the salmon fillets, and cut into chunks. Add salmon chunks with the last of the Fish Fumet. Season with coarse sea salt and black pepper. Cook, stirring often, about 5 minutes more, until salmon is cooked.

Finally, grate in about 1/4 cup Parmesan, add double cream, and give a good stir.

Finely chop remaining Chives, Chervil and Parsley.

Serve Risotto al Salmone e Calamari hot, sprinkled with chopped Chives, Chervil and Parsley, with a glass of chilled Pinot Grigio.

[the-messhall]

Tinned Fish Talk — Calamari 🦑

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

rate my dark lunch (home from work at 1 in the morning edition)

apple salad using leftover thai dips that came with my calamari as dressing (along with a spritz of lime), simmered carrots, tin of dolma (rice stuffed in grape leaves)

[scary-monsters]

Rules: answer + tag 9 people you want to get to know better and/or catch up with

Tagged by @crown-of-winterthorne 🧡 thank you friend!!

Favorite Color: burnt orange is everything to me.. pair that with a deep avocado green and my eyes are very very very happy. special shoutout to mustard yellow and maroon as well.

Last Song: so cold by balu brigada, it's their newest song and i'm a big fan 🕺🏻 highly recommend these guys

Currently Reading: i'm such a fake reader.. i have a stack of books on my nightstand that i keep promising i'll dig into but i end up passing out every night before i get there 😭 i'm like mid-way through a little life by hanya yanagihara (had to stop because it was soul-crushing). i keep red, white & royal blue by casey mcquiston there because it's a comfort read for me, it's just very cute. and the two that i've been meaning to start are jurassic park by michael crichton and tin man by sarah winman. there's also a few fics i've been meaning to catch up on/start reading but tbh i've had a very difficult time reading in general lately so i'm not sure when i'll get to them.

Currently Watching: nothingggg... i rarely watch anything, omg this post makes me sound so BORING... the last thing i watched was challengers (which i really enjoyed) but that was a couple weeks ago, i think. when they finally animate SBR i'll watch that LOL

Currently Craving: diego brando... a vacation... a concert (/j /j /j) UHH IDK, i tried those new goldfish crisps a couple days ago and they were GOOD, i'd love more of those rn. that or these calamari chips my sister had me try the other day, those were delicious too

Coffee or Tea? tea, my stomach can't take coffee LOL. i don't drink tea much at all but good GOD i would die for boba right now

No Pressure Tagging: @phidont @luxario @unintent @reclusiveunicorn @homicidal-lingonberry @jojo-lane @his-body-and-blood @spacejasontodd @verystrongblimp UHH IDK normally i don't tag bc i don't wanna be annoying LOL, living without fear today i guess 💀 anyone else who reads this: consider yourself tagged too

edit: PLEASE STOP REBLOGGING THIS 😭😭😭

[scavengerssuccotash]

What are some of Clint and Natasha’s inside jokes?

Sorry 😅 I meant to answer this much earlier but I got sucked into a kdrama!

Two truths and a lie was a game they started early in their partnership before they felt truly comfortable with each other as a way to get to know each other without laying out all the cards.

“I grew up in the circus-“ “That’s a lie, Agent Barton.” “Is it, Agent Romanoff?”

Gradually as they grew more comfortable it shifted into a game of flirtation, of tasting previously drawn lines in the sand.

“I like my women obedient who do as they’re told and don’t cause me problems!” Natasha smiles. “Now, we both know that’s a lie, Clint.”

Now, after forging their partnership/relationship through blood, sweat and tears they have no need for such games, but it had become such a shorthand for them that they continue to play it. Mostly as a way to fuck with Phil or the rest of the team. Clint or Nat will voice their displeasure about something or another with a complete straight face but the other will know exactly what they mean. It’s another one of their many nonverbal languages between them.

“Mount Calamari!”

This one requires a bit of backstory. Strike Team Delta were in Japan on a kill order for an arms dealer with ties to some very unsavory folks. The mission itself had gone off without a hitch and even Clint was able to have some fun. A day before their extraction they were caught up in a freak storm, and were forced to hunker down in a tiny apartment above a sushi bar. For the next three days, Strike Team Delta maxed out their credit cards on fine sake and enough sushi to feed a small village. It was during one such night when Clint, blitzed out of his mind, confessed he had never been to Mount Fuji despite having been to the country multiple times. However, due to the slurring of his words, and the fact that his brain was literally swimming in sake and plum wine, he couldn’t remember the fucking name.

“Mont Foook-fuck-a-shhhh-me? Shhhhut up, ssstop laughing at me! Fuck what’s the name? Mount-something! Mount…mount…Mount Calamari!!”

Natasha nearly turned blue from laughing so hard. Clint had to physically shake her to get her into inhale. To this day they both say that this mission was by far the best they’ve ever had. Now when Clint or Nat want to share a little chuckle over the comms they’ll say, “Mount Calamari!!”

“Like a freshly shaved cat.”

Clint having grown up in the American Midwest, has some idioms that native-Russian Natasha has never heard of. The Red Room’s English language education didn’t factor in regional idioms, so when Clint throws out a really specific idiom Natasha gets a bit confused.

“I make you nervous?”

“Like a freshly shaved cat on a hot tin roof.”

“I don’t get it.”

“What?”

“Why would anyone shave a cat?”

“No, that’s not—“

“How would you even do that?”

So, now whenever Clint throws out an odd turn of phase here or there that Natasha doesn’t understand she’ll raise an eyebrow and ask, “Shaved cat?”

Her way of asking Clint for an explanation of the phrase later with the understanding that he’s being hyperbolic.

Thanks for asking! That was fun ❤️

[askthelordsinblack]

okay. but can we think about

webby doing spider things. webby crawling on all eights. webby jumping across tables using her thread as a grappling hook. webby staring at you with all eight peepers. webby being a furry little gremlin. webby freaking the hell out of children when she first appears in their minds because they're scared of spiders. webby spitting venom on and liquefying her enemies before eating them whole.

and also

wiggog doing squid things. wiggog glowing in the dark. wiggog wiggling almost as if he is liquid. wiggog flashing psychedelic patterns of light. wiggog having eyes as big as dinner plates. wiggog visiting scuba divers in the deep sea. wiggog being afraid of being turned into calamari.

oh and also

tinky doing goat things. tinky eating tin cans (well no, actually. tinky eating grass). tinky winding up in a petting zoo. tinky having wiry and soft fur. tinky having a little wispy beard. tinky headbutting the other lords.

is this anything.

(this is something!!)

…T’noy does headbutt us a lot.

In fact, all of this is very correct and close with what my brothers actually act like/do. I can only confirm a little of my sister’s part, I don’t interact with her often anymore.

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

Second Star Chapter Fifteen: The Fireflies

Fandom: The Mandalorian Wordcount: 4.6k Warnings: Description of injury

Okan, Mando and the child land on a forest planet. Okan and the child struggle with the effects of planet-hopping, and to distract herself Okan returns to gardening. After a close call with a bounty hunter, Mando takes care of Okan for a change

AO3 Link Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Writing Masterpost

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Okan is pursuing a ridiculously frivolous endeavour. Alright, that’s not the phrasing Mando’s going to use when he sees it, but they’re the longest words she can think of to describe the thoughts that will roll around his helmet when he sees it. He’s been gone for almost two weeks now, but he’d sent a message through the commlink he’d given her four planets ago to tell her that he should be back before dark today. He’d been reluctant to give her the comm, it ties him to Okan and the kid, but a couple of months ago he’d come back from a job early in the morning and she’d attacked him out of surprise. She’d landed some good hits, but he thought it best to prevent it from becoming a repeat event.

At least she’s kept the floor of the hull clean, covered in the biggest tarpaulin she could find, he can’t yell at her for that. On the tarp, she’s amassed an impressive collection of paint cans, buckets and empty ration tins. As per Mando’s stipulations, she had waited a week before going to the town market and had only paid with Mon Calamari credits. She’d used her cranky old hoverboard to transport all her purchases herself because Mando had lectured her about trackers on commercial hoverboards. It had taken a while to go back and forth from the market to the ship to the market, meandering aimlessly through the forest for the first three-quarters of an hour to throw off any potential followers, but she’d done it. Four sacks of compost - two dry and crumbly and two moist and dark - packs of draining rocks and drip waterers and plant food, and a crub. The portable kind can rarely be relied on, all spindly metal and plastic, so she’d shored it up with rust-resistant scrap metal and set it up in the kitchen. She’d sacrificed one of Mando’s screwdrivers to punch drainage holes into her chosen containers and spent the last few days potting. Some vegetables she’d found in that same market, some self-seeds she’d pulled out of fruit before giving them to the baby and some flowers she’d uprooted from the woods just outside of the ship. Forest planets are her favourite for the sheer density of life held on the surface.

They’ve been planet-hopping for months. The longest they’ve stayed anywhere is sixteen days, on a ring planet so full of droids and cameras they’d hardly left the ship. Sleep schedules are nonexistent with so many different time zones to keep up with and Okan’s been nursing a headache for the past three days but for now, elbow-deep in dirt, she doesn’t feel too bad. The baby is in the cubby with his wooden snake, still awake. Still. Awake. He’s getting better at sleeping when Mando’s not around, but the constant travel has him all turned around too. Okan’s managed to keep up a steady stream of stories and she’s only hoping he doesn’t notice she’s repeating rhymes. She has no energy for games. At least when she’s doing this she can sit on the floor. Pull one can towards her, fill it with the layers of rock and soil and food and eventually the plant and then shove the can aside to prepare the next one. It’s repetitive work, but it’s nice, using her arms and skills she hasn’t employed for close on nine months.

The hull door creaks and cranks down into position. Okan pulls her hands from the current pot and claps the soil off them, rubbing the back of her hand on her cheek for good measure before she stands and ties her cloak into a sling for the baby.

“What fresh hell is this?” Mando, at the bottom of the ramp. A body is slung over his shoulder like a bag of rice. Okan tries to keep the baby facing in towards her stomach as she settles him in the sling.

“Mando, we talked about this.”

“We did not.”

“About you bringing dead bodies back while the baby’s awake.”

“He’s not dead,” Mando tells her, doing a little jump on the spot to jostle the body. It groans and a leg kicks out, but Mando catches it, “Yet.”

“He doesn’t know that!”

“Would you rather I leave our fuel money in the forest?” Mando counters in that dry, unimpressed way. Okan sighs, blowing air up past her nose and into stray hairs that are propelled upwards for a moment. The baby, fascinated, tries to grab the tendrils of hair. “There’s a clearing about five minutes back. Take him there while I deal with this. Why is he still awake, anyway?”

“It’s the planet-hopping,” Okan answers, pulling off one glove to wrap tendrils of warmth from one of the lights around her fingers. She’s brought this up before and ended up in a bad spat with the Mandalorian. The subject, paired with their tiredness, has made their silences spiky “His little body doesn’t know what time it is anymore, he’s getting overtired and then oversleeping-”

“Now is not the time-”

“-We need to stay somewhere, Mando, actually stay. Just as we adjust we move again, I...we can’t keep up with this.”

“I told you to leave.”

There’s a moment. That swift, silent battle between Mando and Okan that always takes place when he gives her some kind of order. It’s always silent, but it’s always fierce. It always looks so one-sided, too, the tin can not giving any indication of what Mando’s thinking while Okan is utterly unable to hide any emotion she experiences. The being over Mando’s shoulder groans again, and Okan surrenders. Still, she stalks rather irritably past Mando,

“Barshtok.”

“Hu’tuun.”

Insults are traded, and the baby whines in confusion, not understanding why the adults aren’t happy to see each other. Behind her, there’s a scream. Okan flinches, her shoulders hunching over as she holds her hands over the baby’s ears and starts mumbling an old prayer. Her eyes sting. The sound of fists hitting metal fades as the trees do. The clearing’s an illusion of peace, but it’s at least a prettier illusion than the salt flats on the last planet. There’s no peace anymore, not really. Planet-hopping’s no good for anyone. Okan sits down when she reaches the middle of the clearing. She only lets go of the child when he starts writhing and complaining about being held. The little ball of light she’d collected bobs above his head as he explores this new terrain. He might be full of energy, but Okan feels as if her bones are full of freshly-churned cement. There’s a shrill noise, perhaps a bird.

“Bara. Drop it.” The distress call stops, and a sound that’s halfway between guilty and apologetic replaces it before a bird takes off from the ground, squawking. “Thank you,” The orb of light bobs along as the baby flees the scene of his own crime. Okan picks a strand of grass that had been tickling her elbow and tears it into strips as long as her hand. She picks the widest of these, holds it tight between her thumbs, lifts it to her lips and blows hard. The effort brings an edge to the dull pain in her head but she’s rewarded when a high, sharp, almost deafening sound comes from it, like a bird call but less scared than the one she’d just heard. The baby stops in his tracks, makes one of his curious little noises, and starts trundling back towards her, babbling away. As the grass quacks again, he pops up at Okan’s feet. He’s smiling, and there’s no way Okan can’t smile back. She reaches out to rub his head with her gloved hand, but pauses when she notices the little insect trekking its way along the join between his ear and his head. Okan holds a single finger out to it, and the insect crawls onto the glove where her fingernail would be, “See this? It’s a Tuli-bug. Rest of the galaxy calls ‘em fireflies,” Okan tells him, watching as it makes its way up her finger. She waits until the child’s fully focusing on it and then blows gently on the bug. Startled, it takes off, and as it takes flight its rear end glows yellow. The light reflects in the child’s wide eyes, and he watches it like a cat waiting to pounce on a mouse until the insect dives back down into the grass. The child runs after it, wanting to find it, and disturbs other fireflies as he squeals through the grass, leaving a glowing trail behind him. Okan laughs as he runs, but stops when she realises what he’s really running to. Then she turns back around and pulls her knees to her chest, looping her arms around them.

“Hey, kid. Are you, uh, having fun?” The child gabbles on and on, giving Mando an answer he can never understand, “That sounds. Great.” The child, thrilled by the offering of conversation, goes on even louder and more enthusiastically. He’s winding up again and the idea of staying awake for another night cycle has Okan pushing the heels of her hands into her eyes. The child scuttles past her when he’s done talking to Mando and back into the grass

“Shik’da, ha’be.” Okan passes her covered hand over his head when he passes and flicks her ungloved fingers to send the ball of warmth after him. Mando shuffles through the grass, hardly lifting his feet. She watches another firefly wander up her arm, battling the headache that’s trying to split her skull in two. Eventually, Mando decides to sit down, and lands maybe two feet away from Okan. The firefly takes off. Fresh silence punctures the faux peace of the clearing while they watch the child trundle about. 

“You’re right.” He says. Quietly. Like very distant thunder that may or may not be real.

“I’m right about a lot of things, but you don’t tend to say it.”

“I’m not saying it again.”

“What was I right about?”

“Planet-hopping,” Mando admits. The baby squeals as he races after more fireflies, rustling through the grass and flushing even more of the bugs out, “It’s not good. For the kid,” Okan waits for him to continue in the short, simple sentences she’s used to, “I’ll take the trafficker into the town tomorrow and we can stay here for a while.”

“Stay?” Okan echoes, trying to coax more out of him and letting herself look at him now. He stares resolutely ahead.

“In the woods. Until the money runs out. Or the Guild finds us,” he explains, “Maybe a few months. It’s quiet here. Relatively safe. Out of the way.” Okan lets the following silence hang to show that she recognises this decision and is grateful for it before she speaks,

“Thank you, Mando. For listening.” She doesn’t need to say any more. The best way to respond to Mando is in the way he speaks to her: short statement to short statement, long explanation to long explanation. Silence softens. 

A giggling, squirming, weight slams into her. The child, trying to hop up and onto her legs or into her arms and instead knocking her over. There are twin shrieks as she tips, both from Okan and from the surprised baby. The shrieks turn to laughter, loud, genuine, joyful laughter as Okan catches hold of the baby and falls back into the grass. As they disappear into the green, a cloud of glowing yellow fireflies billows up around them. Okan stays where she falls, laughing hysterically. The child, figuring out that this is a happy reaction, squeals with her. Okan misses trees. She misses rolling around in the long grass and flattening it, unable to shake of the giggles. She misses making Tuli-bugs light up and making grass whistles. So that’s what she does.

***

The moons have risen fully now. Okan knows she’ll be in almost complete darkness, but Mandalorian armour isn’t so easily disguised under moonlight. There are four or five black dots on his helmet. Okan adjusts her bag and moves closer to him, “Can I touch your helmet? Not to remove it. Don’t nod or shake, just...yes or no.”

“Yes.” He sounds confused, but he agrees, so Okan shuffles closer and slowly reaches towards the tin can. She rests the back of her hand against the helmet until the little family of fireflies crawls onto her knuckles.

“Tiene-tuli,” Okan taps the left side of her chest, where a human heart would be, and holds the insects up for Mando to see as they travel up to her thumbnail, “Tuli-bugs.” She does the same thing for him as she’d done for the baby, blowing air towards the insects until they glow yellow and take off, looking for a more sheltered place to land. Another firefly drifts lazily between Okan and Mando, their heads turning to follow its path. Mando’s head turns. Okan watches the side of the helmet and wonders what his face is doing. Not what it looks like, but what emotion it’s conveying. When he’s annoyed his knee pops out and his head tilts to the right and when she confuses him the helmet twitches left. When he’s angry he looks down at her with his hands on his hips like an elder giving her a good scolding. When she’s done something right he gives one of his tiny nods and sometimes when she makes him laugh she hears cracks of it through the modulator. She still doesn’t know his tell for when he’s smiling.

“What exactly were you doing in the hull?” he asks a short while later. It’s too dark for them to remain outdoors and they’re almost back to the ship. 

“They won’t stay in the hull. There’s a space marked out in the galley for them. It’s food, mostly…” Okan stoops to allow her fingers to follow the curl of a fern, “I wanted something to do with my hands, and I missed using them with the earth. They’ll freshen the air on the ship, and they’ll look nice,” she can’t quite come up with a reason for the plants that she thinks Mando will agree with, but she looks at him all the same with her plea. Her eyes are dark and deep and hold the image of more fireflies that are crawling over Mando’s helmet, “Can I keep them?” 

“You used your wages on the plants?”

“Well, on the soil and the-” she stops herself and backtracks, “Yes. Yes, I did. But I followed all the rules. Calamari credits, misdirection in the woods.”

“Then it would be a waste of money to get rid of them. And a waste of your time potting them.” There’s the nod. Agreement. Okan smiles and the firefly reflections in her eyes squish into stars. Her hand finds his elbow, the fabric between plates of armour, and she squeezes it tight for a split second before letting go to tap the column of her neck twice with two fingers. The latter gesture is Nokanish and shows gratitude, conveying deeper thanks than the words themselves. The other gesture, the hand on his elbow, carries no cultural message that he’s aware of. It’s something she likes to do on rare occasions: a squeeze of the elbow, nudge of a foot, flicking her fingers against his beskar to hear the ting sound and smile at it. In the cockpit, when she wants to look at what he’s doing, she sets her forearms on the back of his chair and leans over him, and once or twice her fingers have trailed over his shoulder and onto the fabric of the cowl that sits about his neck. He hasn’t been able to find the reason behind it yet, hasn’t asked. She’s learned how to read the movement of his shoulders for the most part and always withdraws the moment he tenses, taking the baby with her if he’s sitting on Mando. At this moment, as the Razor Crest comes into view and Okan sends her light back to its source, the baby flops over Mando’s arm and waves his hands in the air. Still awake, damn him.

“I’m not lifting all those pots for you.” Mando tells Okan as they step back into the hull. He throws the switch to close the door and lights flicker on.

“I’ll manage,” Okan assures him, adjusting her cloak. When she turns her back on Mando he sees she’s modified it into yet another iteration of a sling, one he’s seen before that holds the baby close to her back, “Pop him in so he won’t bother you.”

“I can take him while you do this.”

“It’s alright, he might fall asleep if I keep him still and warm,” Mando slots the baby into place, then holds him there while Okan tightens the straps to secure him, “Might. Besides, you’ve been gone for almost two weeks, you need rest too.” Well, the child does seem content. He’s not complaining about his new perch at least, making small ooh sounds when Okan squats to pick up a bucket. She doesn’t show any struggle with the weight, and by the looks of the containers none of them should be too heavy for her by Mando’s estimations. She’s strong, but she knows her limits. She turns back to Mando with a pleased expression and the large bucket held in front of her, “Goodnight, Mandalorian.”

Mando tracks through the ship to resume routine, checking on every crate and door and tool. He doesn’t move them from wherever Okan has put them, he’s just making sure they’re still there. There’s a screwdriver he’d left on the workbench he can’t see anymore, but that’s a problem for tomorrow. She doesn’t touch the cockpit when he’s gone, so his tour through it before he retires to his room is brief. During his scans of the ship he does pass Okan several times, but she doesn’t try to engage him in conversation. She has said goodnight and marked the end of their time together - they exist in their own individual space until the morning. Her exchanges with the child are low and lilting, trying to lull him into sleep. Mando can hear them pass his door when he’s in his room. Okan goes back and forth and back and forth from hull to galley and back again with each plant while Mando strips himself of armour and settles to studying his datapad. He can tell when the baby finally falls asleep, because Okan finally stops talking. She shuffles up and down for a few hours yet before the door to her own room slides open and closed, and then Mando can’t hear anything.

***

The plants are restricted to the galley for about a month to adjust to their new homes and surroundings before Okan starts to move them around. The first is a plant in the refresher, a tiny thing in a ration tin she suspends from a hook in the ceiling that releases a pleasing smell when the water showers run. Then a second ration tin set between the two sinks in the same room that’s only allowed to stay because Okan has promised it won’t climb up the wall as it grows. Several have been relocated to Okan’s own room, the ones that will produce colourful buds, lined up along the blank wall opposite the door. A couple of pots, heavier ones that can be attached to the walls via hooks or ropes and trusted not to slide around during jumps, have made it into the corridors. Between them, the child’s toys and Okan’s blankets, it’s now fairly obvious that other people live on the Razor Crest. Mando’s been avoiding thinking about how he feels about that in case it’s angry. He doesn’t have reason to be angry at them. 

He’d listened to Okan and they’d stayed on the forest planet for several weeks more. For the most part, they stay on the ship in the woods. After completing each job he manages to root out Mando moves the ship to a new region of the planet so they don’t risk becoming fixtures as they had in Sorgan. Unfortunately, there aren’t many jobs to be had but he and Okan are experts at the art of laying low and finding menial tasks to fill their days. She doesn’t object to moving over the planet’s surface as much as he’d worried she would, rather she relishes having new spaces to explore. She always does, no matter what sort of planet they land on, but he can see forest planets are something special to her. He’d have to be blind not to see that. 

Once she has their routine down, she sticks to it like glue. Every morning, the first Mando hears of her is when a door creaks open and he leaves what he’s doing to find her sitting on the hull door or directly on the grass in her nightclothes, her eyes closed and her face upturned to the sun to absorb the light and warmth. If uninterrupted, she’ll sit like that until the child wakes up. Mando never interrupts her. Through the rest of the day he can mostly track her by sound as she talks to the baby, and if she goes out of earshot she tends to leave her commlink open so Mando can hear if there’s any trouble. So far, there hasn’t been. Mando himself does as he always does: tidies the ship, cleans his armour, maintains the repairs, works out their next three or four bolt holes for whenever they have to leave this place. 

Today he’s woken from a few hours of stolen sleep in the cockpit by Okan’s voice, as he so often is. The difference this time is that it’s coming through the commlink. She’d left with the child in the morning, but now the sun hangs low and blood-red in the sky.

Mando. Mando, she stretches out the first syllable in the sing-song voice she uses when she doesn’t want to alarm the baby, wake up and let us in…I really hope you’re asleep and not just ignoring us, the comm is in her chair so he pushes himself upright to twist around for it, but spies movement out of the windows ahead of him, Aha! You moved. You see us? She’s waving from where she stands at the treeline, big arcs of her arm over her head. It’s a good thing her cloak is red, it’s what distinguishes her from the woods. Mando scoops up the comm her voice is still filtering through,

“I see you. Disengaging ground safety protocols.” he tells her. Confusion sprouts when he sees Okan check her surroundings before she moves, and when she does she darts from tree to tree. It’s odd. 

Got a blaster on you? Just in case? She asks, as though there’s any world in which Mando isn’t armed at all times. The question is more than enough to alarm him. He doesn’t ask why, just drops down the ladder and triggers the door. He slinks down the ramp, pulse rifle ready. Okan moves quickly, zig-zagging through the trees. 

“What am I looking for?” he asks when she steps onto the ramp. He chances a single glance at his companion - the child is held tight to her side and seems fine, but Okan’s hair is falling messily out of her hood and past the shadow of the fabric he can see bruises. “Who?”

“A hunter,” her voice still warbles up and down and he understands now, if she sounds panicked the baby will panic. She moves swiftly past Mando to put the child in the cubby, up in his hammock, and closes the door on him before taking up position behind Mando and peering over his shoulder. With the close of the cubby door her voice straightens out again, “Guild. She’s dead, but I don’t know if there’s anyone else. I’m not sure we weren’t followed, so I thought I should get you out here-”

“You thought right.” Mando tells her. He steps backwards, and she moves with him. She closes the door when she’s told to do so and Mando climbs up into the cockpit. They’re off the ground within three minutes, and sub-light within seven. Okan opens the door to the cubby but the baby’s comfortable in his hammock so she leaves him in favour of sinking down onto the bench by the hole in the wall herself. Steadying her breathing, she pulls her bag onto her lap. When she hears the rattle that signals Mando dropping back down into the hull she lifts her head and lets her hood fall. Blood leaks from a cut through her eyebrow like oil.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” Mando asks. 

“We went back to the pond. I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have gone back and we stayed too long-”

“Okan.” He doesn’t sound upset or angry, just trying to keep her on track. 

“It wasn’t that we’d been seen and reported, she had a fob,” Okan finds the thing in her bag and tosses it to Mando. She’d crushed it under the heel of her boot but he can still see what it was. Her medical pack follows the fob’s path out of her bag and she starts probing uncertainly at her face with one hand to find where the most pain is. There’s a bad scratch on her leg just above her knee, her trousers ripped, “Sprout didn’t get hurt, just scared,” The third item to be pulled from the bag is undoubtedly the weapon that had inflicted the wounds, complete with Okan’s black blood drying on the blade. The handle is slightly curved for ease of grip and the blade is roughly the length of Okan’s arm. It holds three waves in the metal. Mando’s heard various names for these types of swords of course, but the simplest that Okan will understand is a flame-blade, the metal imitating the wiggling of a lively candle. She hands the sword over to Mando, who puts it in the weaponry case on the wall. Out of the baby’s reach. “Oh damn.” Okan has found the cut on her face and seems surprised by the blood. She pokes around it to try and figure out how big and how deep it is, but she’ll struggle without a mirror. Mando steps from being in front of the weapons cabinet to standing in front of Okan and holds out his hand. Her eyes flick up to the helmet, a little confused, but then she tilts her head further up and lets Mando prop the orange ends of his gloved fingers under her chin.

Her medpack is open and well organised, it’s not difficult to find what he’s looking for: clean cloth, damp wipes, something in a dropper that prevents infection that he can’t remember the name of at this precise moment. With one hand he holds her chin and with the other he cleans her face. Wipes away the dirt of the day to better see the evolving colours of the bruises, harder to make out through brown skin. She lets him. She doesn’t even say anything, just looks up at him and stares at the helmet in that way that almost tricks him into thinking she can see his eyes. She does her best not to frown when he reaches the cut through her eyebrow and instead clenches her jaw, purses her lips. He’s gentle, pausing between wipes and drops to let her breathe the pain out. He has to clean that side of her face again once he’s smoothed a sticking plaster over the scratch because of how much it had bled. 

“I’m sorry you got hurt.” Okan can count on one hand the amount of times Mando has outright apologised, said the words I’m sorry in the time she’s known him. His voice is as soft as the movements of his hands. He’s got that caring tone about him again. She lifts two fingers and taps her neck. Thanks.

[somerandomcryptid]

Introduction post time

Hi! My name is Cryptid, I use they/them pronouns, I have ADHD, and I am currently braining heavily about c!Dream and the dsmp in general (I have been since about October 2023 so I doubt it's leaving any time soon)

This is technically my second blog so likes, follows, and asks I send to people come from my main blog @cryptidflow3r

I don't like discourse as it stresses me out, but I might sometimes post about ccs because I do still watch and enjoy quite a few of them

I do a few aus around here the main three rn though are:

#Dreaming of death, which is an au of the fic Penpal by @calamari-minecraft-corner, it's kinda a big thing that I haven't organized yet, but I'll make a master post at some point when I've got the motivation, but the basic gist is that instead of immediately asking Wren to participate in the experiments he waits and a teenager name Cryptid (yes they're a self insert) is thrown into the mix. I lot of stuff insues. This au doesn't have spoilers really, I talk about all parts of the timelin

#One of my biggest enemies' kid is now my kid!?, which is a pretty new au as of writing this where Dream ends up adopting Sam's adopted kid/experiment creation while Sam is stuck in Pandora's. This one will probably have one dedicated fic that I'm trying not to spoil too much but I'll talk about it more if people send asks about it.

And

#Trans boy Dream au, what it says on the tin :) he's trans, and he needs a hug. This one technically can be considered canon compliant as well, as none of the main events majorly change! Just some of the stuff done and added things.

In should mention that I make a lot of self insert stuff(it’s all tagged) and that all my self inserts are minors(because I am) but they do vary in age a bit. i don’t really do self shipping on here but I do simp

I do reblog other people's self-ship stuff sometimes, and I don't tag that, so just be warned

I am always open to asks about my aus, my canon takes, and basically anything else! So feel free to stop by!

I don't do DNI's just be nice and know I will block you if you're mean and/or make me uncomfortable.

I think that's about it :3 I edit this a lot as things change, and I try to keep it up to date, it might be a bit out of date sometimes though

(last edited as of September 22nd , 2024)

[misterradio]

Fortis talks More Tinned Seafood 🦑🐚

this time in spaghetti. (HOW IS THERE NOT JUST A CLAM EMOJI)

👆 this mad lad decided to buy even more tinned squid because they enjoyed the calamari so much. this time it was squid chunks in ink sauce. i also had some mussels from the dollar store. i didnt know what to do with them so i thought it would fry them in a pan to sort of give them a butter coating (like i have done with shrimp before), then eat them with pasta?

well they were both packed in oil already so it didnt really happen that way, altho cooking them did reduce their liquidiness. it started smelling really burnt at some point and it also spat oil out like crazy... but it tasted fine in the end.

look u cant even see the squid in the tin, its so dark...

i wasnt even sure what is the best way to eat them in spaghetti? but the ink sauce already has tomato in it, so i ate it with tomato sauce as usual.

my baby seafood slop curled up in its nest of spaghetti 💖

it tasted fine but while i was eating it i was kind of wishing i was eating seafood in some other vehicle. but like i said i genuinely had no idea what to do with such a small amount of seafood, so this was a nice little experiment. but i would much rather do something else with them hehe.

also it occured to me that i ate the calamari last time straight out of the can. but nowhere on the can does it say if it's ready to eat or not? i just assumed it was, and nobody who ate it got sick or anything... so......?????? i guess its fine.

NEXT EPISODE: SOME OTHER BOOL SHEET 💥💥💥💥💥💥

[vvarhound]

Oh shit, I almost forgot I was going to talk about that 5th grade science class.

It's the origin of the "BAPTIZED IN A BOG" phrase in my blog title. We went on a field trip to an actual bog, at which there was a mud hole deeper than a 5th grader is tall, and the teacher held any kid who wanted to by our arms and submerged us fully into the bog. We ran around in a nearby lake to clean off afterwards.

On an overnight field trip we split into two groups and ran around in the woods howling like wolves. Each cabin had a strip of scotch tape stuck to the door and they made a competition out of which cabin got the most ticks. On another field trip we toured a cave and got to look for fossils.

When starting a lesson on the fire triangle the teacher leaped through the door in the back of classroom / lab screaming like a madman and spraying a fire extinguisher over our heads. He then distributed pie tins and various firestarting implements and turned us loose onto the playground to try and start fires.

We raised caterpillars into butterflies, tadpoles into frogs, and had a year-long class project involving pairs of kids raising two rats, feeding them both the same but giving one only water to drink and the other milk, and comparing their growth and development. If kids got their parents permission they got to take the rats home as pets afterwards.

We got to dissect squids, write with the ink and "pen", and the teacher brought in a deep fryer and fried the tentacles. Not a good introduction to calamari in terms of taste and the whole school smelled terrible for weeks.

There was a cat skeleton someone had found and brought in, and you could go in during recess and help clean it with hydrogen peroxide and a toothbrush if you wanted to. Which I did. When I wasn't already going in there during recess to play with the class pet snake or rabbit.

There was also a maggoty sandwich in a ziploc baggie that the teacher had found in the woods and stuck above the whiteboard with a thumbtack. Why? I don't know. I think someone named it at some point. The sandwich. Although I don't remember its name, I do remember staring at the maggots every time I finished a test early.

If I could experience the kinds of stuff we got to do in that science class for the rest of my life I would be the most satisfied organism on the planet.

[dxrknessembr8ced]

" WHY ARE THERE SO MANY OF YOU?! "

" Mama! Is she a new friend? "

" Yeah she is honey. Please be nice and kind to Quoggoth they had a rough start. "

Jaaku, Junior and the rest of these palettes gather around Quoggoth curious and very welcoming to the eldritch horror.

" You smell like calamari.. "

" I second that notion... "

" ......I can't smell. "

" That's because you're a robot you tin-can! "

" Hey-! I'm a synthetic android! "

" . . . . . This is worse than being imprisoned for EONS!!! "

[drtamarahayes]

"Yeah, well, maybe you would have known if you bothered to even ask." she knew he had a lot on his mind, a lot to deal with at all times of the year. That came with being a father and a business owner, each in their own respects. "But I guess that's something we should talk about, right? Expectations." Tamara knew that she certainly had some adjustments to make. "You'd think that i'd be used to you not caring about me anymore, but.." it still affected her, even if it was only slight. Purely because that was what she had been accustomed with, their relationship having been almost equally as fast as the one she had begun with Theo. She'd given Cage every part of her, had been a family, and she was cursing herself for leaving it how she had. Dropping contact, leaving Merrock in the beginning, not putting in more of an effort then to forge some sort of positive relation. "I know I need to. Not in that sense, anyway.” Tamara was nothing more to him than what she was — his ex wife. They didn’t have the history or experience of friendship to veer from that. The last thing she wanted was to say the wrong thing, so she was making a conscious effort to word her thoughts delicately. “I never said she didn’t.” Tam reassured, brows lifting sympathetically. “It’s just not as clear, to me, anyway.” Since being in Merrock, she had shockingly enough not had a run in with the blonde, though having a decently busy schedule didn't help, either. Breathing in the enticing aromas wafting from their individual meals, Tam took a fork from the cutlery tin on the table and stabbed a piece of calamari. "Good to know." she chimed with a tight lipped smile, before taking a bite.

The thing about exes was that they would always be exes, Cage knew that. No matter how much they wanted to be friends, or how hard they worked at getting there, it wasn't going to erase the past between them; it wasn't going to take away any hurt feelings in the past or ease any of the awkwardness that settled over them. It took time, and he knew that, but then adding in that extra layer… he didn't want to say it, but he didn't see a giant Thanksgiving turkey on the table as they all laughed about that summer that things fell apart, either. Not yet. Holding up his hand in defense as she corrected him, he stopped himself from rolling his eyes at her insistence, instead speaking, "I don't know the details, I was only basing that off of how we found out about you guys," which had been kissing at a Renaissance Faire. If they were in love, that was theirs to figure out, Cage wasn't going to pass judgement, wasn't going to give his opinion, knowing that it wasn't his place, and quite frankly, not a can of worms that he wanted to open up and get into. But at her question of who was taking care of him, his brows raised, and he wondered why it was that anyone would even ask a question like that. "Cordelia?" he replied, somewhat dumbfounded. "Just because she's on the outs with her brother doesn't mean she stopped loving me," he frowned. Cage had his brother, his sister, his friends, people who cared about him, people who took care of him, but he never wanted for anything when it came to his wife, never had to doubt for a second that she would be there when he needed him; dinner ready on the table after work, a back rub if he complained about being sore, a listening ear when his day was long, the same things that he offered to her in return. He glanced up as the food was brought to the table, offering the waitress a quick smile and a nod. "Always does," he picked up a fry, tossing it in his mouth.

[jinxed-ninjago]

List of nicknames for Ninjago characters, both canon and not, not including ones that are jokes on their “master of ______” titles:

Jay

Sparky

Thundercracker (canon; given to him by Kai in Flight of the Dragon Ninja, one of the pilot short films)

Bolthead (canon; given to him by Cole in Sons of Garmadon)

Bluebird

Bluebell (canon; given to him by Cole in Tournament of Elements)

Bluejay (I think this one’s canon and it’s something Fugi-Dove calls him?? Don’t quote me on that lol)

Zaptrap (canon; given to him by Cole in Rebooted)

Motormouth (canon; given to him by Cole in Rebooted)

Kai

Hothead

Firecracker

Firestarter

Fire Maker (canon; given to him by ice fishers in the Never-Realm)

Wildfire

Sparkplug (canon; given to him by Jay in The Golden Weapons)

Cole

Rocky

Blackbird

Dirtclod (canon; given to him by Jay in Rebooted)

Mole (canon; “nickname” given to him by Murt in Master of the Mountain)

Boulderbrain (canon; given to him by Jay in Skybound)

Zane

Frosty (canon; given to him by Cole in Rise of the Snakes)

Pinky (canon; given to him by Cole in Rise of the Snakes)

Icicle

Tin can (canon; given to him by Cole in Legacy of the Green Ninja)

Snowflake

Nya

Waterlily (canon; given to her by Cole in Skybound)

Mya (canon; referred to as “Queen Mya” when she defeats Murtessa in combat in Master of the Mountain)

Dalara (canon; called this by both Nadakhan and Cole, the latter as a joke)

Wu

Little Master (canon; given to him by Cole in the First Realm before he became a teenager)

Little Wu (canon; given to him by Nya and I believe Cole as well in Sons of Garmadon)

Cole Jr. (canon; name given to him by Cole before he was revealed to be the baby)

Treacherous Deceiver (canon; given to him by Aspheera centuries before the series starts)

And of course, Calamari is Kalmaar’s nickname :)

I don’t remember any nicknames for Lloyd and can’t think of any non canon nicknames for Nya, so if you know if anymore that you’ve read in fanfiction or that are canon feel free to add on.

[hannahmcgill]

Gastronomy Chart A silly piece depicting my personal experiences with food linked to various constellations in the sky.

Image ID beneath Read More cut contains over 70 food puns in a list. This is a long list, and a lot of puns, so I'm not going to subject everyone to all that without their consent.

[img id] 1st image: Digital art depicting food-themed constellations. Blue constellations are on a flat black background. It is labeled 'Gastronomy' along the bottom.

2nd image: Labeled black-and-white diagram of first image so that everyone can appreciate the puns. The labels are as follows, in alphabetical order:

Andromeda - "Pan"-dromeda Antlia - "Anchovy"-a Apus - A-"Parsnip" Aquarius - Asparagus Aquila - Aq-"Waffles" Ara - A-"Radish" Aries - Berries (say this one aloud) Auriga - Auriga-no (say this one aloud, too) Boötes - "Beer"-tes Caelum - "Cake"-um Camelopardalis - "Caramel"-opardalis Cancer - Boiled Crab Canes Venatici - Canes "Penne"-tici Canis Major - "Soda Can"-is Major (so it's a big plastic bottle) Canis Minor - "Soda Can"-is Minor (just the cat) Capricornus - Capri-"Corn"-us Carina - "Calamari"-na Cassiopeia - "Spaghetti"-opeia Centaurus - "Gin"-taurus Cepheus - "Cereal"-phus Cetus - "Sushi"-tus Chamaeleon - Chamaele-"oolong" Circinus - "Citrus"-inus Columba - "Cola"-mba Coma Berenices - "Chicken Korma" Berenices Corvus - Cor-"Vanilla"-s Crater - Was already food-related, so no pun necessary. Crux - Slice of Cake Cygnus - Roast Swan Delphinus - Del-"Fondue" Dorado - "Doragon Fruit" Draco - "Drink"-o Equuleus - "Egg"-uuleus Eridanus - Eri-"Danishes" Fornax - For-"Nachos" Gemini - Ge-"Mint"-i Grus - "Au" Grus Hercules - "Burger"-cules Horologium - "Hors-d'œuvre"-logium Hydra - Hyd-"Ramen" Hydrus - Hy-"Drumstick" Indus - In-"Dessert" Lacerta - It's a gummy lizard! Leo - Le-"Orange" Leo Minor - Le-"Orange" Minor Lepus - "Leek"-us Libra - Li-"Bread" Lupus - Lu-"Pumpkin" Lynx - "Sausage" Lynx Mensa - Men-"Salmon" Microscopium - Monoceros - Mono-"Celery"-os Musca - "Mousse"-ca Norma - "Nori"-ma Octans - "Okra"-tans Ophiuchus - Ophiu-"Cous-cous" Orion - Ori-"Onion" Pegasus - "Egg"-asus Perseus - "Supper"-seus Phoenix - Phoen-"ice cream" Pictor - "Pickle"-tor Pisces - "Stargazy Pie"-sces Piscis Austrinus - Pisces Aus-"Tin"-Us Puppis - Pup-"Pizza" Pyxis - "Pizza" Reticulum - "Ratatouille"-um Sagittarius - Saggi-"Pear"-ius Scorpius - Roast Lobster Tail Sculptor - Sculp-"Tortilla" Scutum - Scu-"Toast" Taurus - A Steak Telescopium - "Tea"-loscopium Triangulum - Wedge of triangular cheese Triangulum Australe Tucana - "Tuna Can"-a Ursa Major - Ursa "Measure" Ursa Minor - Ur-"Salt" minor Vela - "Veal"-a Virgo - "Extra" Virgo "Olive Oil" Volans - Vo-"Lasagna" Vulpecula - "Full"-pecula

[smarchit]

How Lucky We Are pt 1

Summary: A continuation of Look Around, Look Around. Mando and Reader continue their adventures with their young children.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Sorry about the Hamilton titles but it was all I had at the time. As for official warnings, there are none, but if you see anything that should be tagged, please let me know! I’m happy to tag anything!

"Is Trin ready to go?" Mando asked, looking up at you from the end of the ramp leading from the Crest. 

You nodded and shielded your eyes from the sun as you walked out to join him. Trin was strapped to your chest in her swaddle, her little fist curled in the fabric of your shirt, drooling happily against your breast.

"Yeah, she's ready," you replied. "What about the Child?"

Mando gestured with a single nod towards your feet.

The little child was cooing and blinking up at you happily. He lifted his tiny arms towards you and babbled, demanding he be picked up.

You laughed and shook your head.

"Okay, okay, but only because you're so cute. I can't always carry you both."

You bent down to pick him up and pulled a thick hood over his head to shield both from the sun and prying eyes. Thankfully, he and Trin were roughly the same size still, so passing them off as sleeping twins could potentially be easy.

Din held out a hand to help you off the ramp and onto the sandy terra of Nevarro. The port was already bustling with life, even so early in the day.

You'd only been back with Mando for a few days now since leaving Sorgan, and you had a meeting with Greef to pick up a few pucks for work.

"Think he'll be thrilled with you toting around a seven-month old baby?" you teased.

Mando shrugged and put a hand on your back as he shut the ramp and guided you to the main streets.

"He didn't say anything about me dragging you all over Maker's creation when you were two weeks out from giving birth. Figured if there was ever a time to say anything, that would have been it."

"Probably right," he hummed as he pulled you closer to his side.

Two Stormtroopers stood at the entrance to the main square, their guns raised in alarm at the sight of the Mandalorian. 

"Identification?" one demanded.

"If I give you ID, you'll need to pull it out of your partner's helmet," Mando grumbled under his breath.

"Didn't catch that, tin can," the other snapped. He adjusted his gun on his hip and raised it towards you slightly.

Mando bristled.

You raised your hand to his chest to stop him from saying something that would have gotten you all vaporized on sight.

"Excuse me," you said sweetly, standing in front of Mando. "This is my... Escort. My father hired him to bring me home. You see, my husband was killed a few months ago and it's been such an effort to get me home. My planet was overrun with Rebels --- I had no time to grab my papers, or the baby's. They'd have killed us!"

The two troopers glanced at each other and then back at you, and then at the two babies.

"Twins?" one asked, jerking his chin in your direction. He shouldered his weapon as he began to move towards you.

"Yes," you said softly, angling your body away from him slightly, "One boy and one girl. I'm very lucky to still have them."

You stepped back as he reached for the swaddle containing the foundling.

Mando cleared his throat and held up a hand to stop the trooper. 

"If you would move it along, I need to get them home," he said sharply, his voice low and heavy with a warning.

"Better not cause any trouble," the other one barked as you passed through the gate.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Mando replied, keeping a hand on the small of your back as you walked away from them.

Once they were out of sight, you relaxed and pulled the Child's hood away. 

"Such a good boy you are!" you cooed, pressing a kiss to his tiny green nose. "Staying so quiet!"

"C'mon, Greef is waiting," Mando urged, guiding you to a Cantina. "Keep his head covered until we get inside. And even then, keep an eye out."

You nodded and adjusted his hood as you stepped into the cantina.

Conversation within immediately halted when they saw Mando. There were a few slurs that got thrown (directed at you both) and more than a dozen insults tossed Mando's way as you made your way to Greef's table.

Mando ushered you into the booth before he sat beside you.

The child went between the two of you and Trin stayed nestled against your chest.

Greef had a wide smile that rivaled the Tatooine suns when he looked at you both.

"My, my. It's good to have you back!" he said, bowing his head in your direction. "Mando, you seem thrilled to have your partner back with you. And with an adorable new addition!"

You smiled down at Trin, whose large, curious eyes were taking in everything around her. You gently removed her from the swaddle and passed her over to Greef, who took her in his arms and sat her little bottom on the table top to get a good look at her.

"She really is adorable, takes after you I assume?" Greef turned from you and cooed at her, wagging his fingers.

Trin babbled and trilled and reached for his hands. 

"She's got some teeth," Mando warned gently. "She likes to bite."

"Oh, you can't bite my best bounty hunter! That's not good!" Greef laughed, wagging a finger at Trin, who drooled and giggled.

"I'd like some work," Mando said after a minute.

Greef looked up from the squealing baby and nodded. He waved for the attention of the droid at the bar to bring you a drink and then passed Trin over the table top into Mando's arms.

Mando pulled her into his lap in an action so natural looking, it surprised you. It didn't even seem like he had realized he'd done it.

You watched Greef reach into his bag and pull out a half dozen or so bounty pucks. He laid the out in a neat line on the chipped tabletop.

"Pick of the lot, Mando. Take a couple - I know you have an extra mouth to feed now, so you'll always get first - and best, as always."

Mando picked one closest to him and a thin blue hologram shot up. 

A scowling human woman with close-shaved dark hair and a tattoo on her cheek glared out from the image at you.

"Trax Stand," Greef said, clicking his tongue. "Coruscant spice smuggler. Could have been one of us if she played her cards right."

"The Hutts?" 

Greef put his hands on the table, palms up to face you, baring his secrets to the world.

"Surely you don't mind," he said with a smile.

Mando sighed. "I'd prefer not to."

"Oh, Mando, they always pay up, don't they? It's a handsome bounty regardless!"

"And they always try to get something else for free out of it," he grumbled.

"Have you taken a bounty for them since Jabba's death?"

"Once. A few years ago."

"Surely things have changed," he said. "Take the job. If you have any issue with payment or negotiations, come find me. I'll have a chat with them."

"...Fine. What else do you have?"

Greef smiled and slid him another puck.

A Mon Calamari.

"What this one do to piss off the Imps?" Mando scoffed.

"Lead them into a rebel sabatoge."

"Not taking it. Next one."

"Ah, yes, you're right. Good call, Mando!" Greef chuckled a bit and looked at another one before passing it over.

"Torguta. Siobhan Phanato. Went rogue from her own section of the guild after taking payment up front and not returning."

"It's not too far from here. Should be an easy trip for us," Mando hummed. "Get your feet wet again?"

You nodded. "Sounds easy enough."

"We'll take these two," Mando said, laying his palm on the pucks he'd chosen.

Greef raised a brow and laughed. "We? You have hunting partner now, Mando?"

Mando grabbed your wrist and helped you out of the booth. He handed you Trin and helped you put her back into the swaddle as Greef continued to laugh.

Before Mando could usher you out of the cantina, Greef cleared his throat and caught Mando's attention.

You turned to try and listen to their conversation over the din of the bar.

"She wants to see you, by the way," he said softly. "Says she has something for you."

Mando straightened up and nodded once. 

"Same place?"

"Entrance is more hidden, but you'll know where it is."

"What was that about?" you asked as soon as the door shut behind you, leaving you bared to the warm sun. The child cooed and blinked up at the sky before you fixed his hood.

"I have to make a stop somewhere. Can you take these credits and buy rations and whatever we need to stock the ship?"

You looked at him. 

As if he read your mind, he put a hand on your shoulder. "I won't be gone longer than fifteen minutes, alright? Get some food for you three and stock up. Meet me right here when you're done."

"What if those troopers come back?"

"You'll be fine," he soothed, putting a gloved hand on your cheek. 

Mando slid his hand down to your shoulder and gave it a squeeze before he slipped through the crowd and disappeared.

You watched him go for a moment before you turned to the market stalls. You thought it best to switch the places of Trin and the child so the latter wouldn't be spotted by spies. It only took a second before the child was nestled happily against your chest and Trin rested on your hip. 

She's already getting to be a little armful, you noted as you set about buying rations and other much needed items for the Crest. You loaded them onto a hover cart and sent it towards the docking yard with a small droid leading it.

You bought Trin and the Child a treat - two tiny balls of soft frozen cream, sweetened with citrus. It was fun to watch their faces screw up as they devoured the new sensation.

"Is that good, sweet babies?" you asked as you wiped their mouths. "Did you like that?"

"You give them ice balls?" Mando asked as he walked up to you.

You smiled and nodded. "They seemed to enjoy it. Did you get what you needed?"

Mando nodded. "Yeah. Let's get going."

So he wasn't going to elaborate? That's fine. Mando still had his secrets, even after over a year of travelling.

You had your secrets too, ones you found even too embarassing to think about that occasionally involved thoughts on your shipmate.

"The food is back at the ship. I told the droid not to pack, just to leave it."

Mando hummed at the mention of the droid, but then nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

You smiled and adjusted Trin in your arms as she squirmed around. 

"Oh, I should get her some new clothes next time we stop. She barely fits into the ones I got from Omera anymore as it is."

"Shame she won't stay so small forever," Mando chuckled. "You'll be running after her in no time."

"The two of them will cause chaos," you teased, bopping Trin on her tiny nose.

"Just don't get on any bounty lists," he said as he lead you back to where he parked the ship.

"My kid is already better than yours in that aspect then," you hummed.

"That's because she can't walk yet," he pointed out.

"Give it a few months."

"She really might be able to take down an Imp with those teeth alone," he noted.

"It was one time, Mando. One time she bit you. And it was your fault."

Mando was silent as he opened the ramp on the ship. He gestured for you to go up first, making some comment that he had to pack up the supplies you bought. 

You took the Child and Trin up the ramp into the hull of the Crest. It was a warm day on Nevarro, as always. The breeze kept air circulating in the ship as Mando packed up the supplies. 

Trin wiggled in your arms and shrieked loudly in protest when you didn't set her down.

"Nap time, little moon," you cooed, kissing her forehead. "For both of you."

You took both babies to their pods and set them down in the soft bedding. The Child blinked sleepily up at you and curled a fist into his blanket.

Trin fussed and cried for a bit, kicking her chubby legs. 

"None of that, me'suum'ika," Mando murmured from behind you. He put a gentle hand on your shoulder and leaned over you to look at the baby. 

"You're so good with her," you said softly, looking up at him. "Lots of experience trying to calm down rowdy bounties, hmm?"

Din huffed a laugh through the modulator and shook his head. 

"The womp rat keeps me on my toes, so I talk to him and keep him entertained for as long as I can."

"Seems to work on Trin too," you said with a smile. Indeed, the baby had stopped fussing and was cooing softly and blinking her large, sleepy eyes up at the two of you.

"Whatever works," he said with a shrug.

You watched Trin until she was sound asleep before turning back to Mando.

"How soon until we reach Coruscant?"

"Couple cycles," he said, doing a quick calculation in his head. "Maybe three or four?"

You nodded and sighed. "Sounds good. I can do a couple days."

Mando watched as you set about tidying up the ship as best you could. He wouldn't admit it (not for a long time) that he found your presence... Comforting. You had brought something to the ship when he took you aboard on Tatooine. A shift in the energy of the ship. It seemed like an eternity since then. 

You changed too, he noted. No longer did you jump at loud noises, or woke up in a panic. You were more assertive in your actions, evident earlier today in the market with the two Stormtroopers.

As you cleaned, Mando realized he was still standing awkwardly over the pods where the child and Trin lay sleeping.

Trin looked so much like you, Mando noted. Your eyes, wild and full of curiosity. Your hair, same color, even the same way it stuck up.

"Gonna grow a root if you keep standing there," you teased, poking your head out of the cockpit. "Let's go get that bounty."

Mando cast one last look at the sleeping babies before he shut the pods and went up join you.

****

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[f4t4-m0rg4n4]

At least you're not the space force... they're either eating tin foil or calamari

Sigh

I sometimes daydream that the Duolingo bird calls me and he tells me all of the good things in life

And then kisses me? I don't know why or how, but it happens. It ALWAYS happens.