#and it's gotta like take him actual time to repair the guns and body armor

[almondcroissantsandink]

power nap in the safe room 

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Four: Reaching Out

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! I hope you're all having a good day, and that you're all staying hale and hearty. This chapter somehow got even longer than the last one, I do apologize once again. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @toxiicpop @huliabitch @helplessly-nonstop @culturalrebel @literal-fand0m-trash @sinnamon-bunn @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @absurdthirst

Part One [Should Have Known Better]

Part Two [Tranquil Turmoil]

Part Three [Vibroblade Mettle]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains character death. Stay safe!]

"Hand over the child, Mando." The man's voice said cooly over the comms. "I might let you live."

You snarled under your breath in frustration and you heard the Mandalorian echo your sentiment. Ever since the two of you had departed Sorgan, your proverbial footsteps had been dogged by hunters. At least they had followed you instead of harassing the small village. You still had yet to learn why the child was being hunted, but you supposed that was a minor detail in light of your current predicament.

"I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold!" The hunter continued to taunt as another hit rocked the Crest. The left engine sputtered and whined, rattling audibly. 

"Alright, that's it." The Mandalorian bit out, flipping switches to cut power from the engine before it shredded itself. "You're up." He informed you, reaching for the thruster bar. "Be ready on the guns, we'll only get one shot at this. Take out that son of a bitch."

Your eyes were glued to the targeting screen, only barely noticing the choke of the thrust and subsequent drag of the Crest that threw you sideways against your seat harness. All you cared about was that blue ship indicator on the screen finally blinking red. 

Right before the Crest's artillery roared to life and reduced the bastard that had been tracking you to space debris, the Mandalorian growled, "that's my line."

You laughed in relief, slumping down in the seat. "We did it!" You cheered quietly, raising your fist to bump his own when he extended it back to you. 

Your celebration was short-lived, however, as sparks exploded across the panel in front of the armored man. He swore under his breath, quickly readjusting trajectory coordinates while the sextant holo reeled drunkenly. "Looks like the damage was already done. Sorry, stowaway. Unplanned pit stop." The Mandalorian grunted, actually managing to sound the tiniest bit contrite.

The ship shuddered and lurched, listing slightly while its main working engine struggled to maintain forward motion. "As long as we land safely, I can live with it." You assured him, eyeing the large, tan planet that loomed in the viewport. "Where to?"

"Tattooine. Closest port's Mos Eisley. Should be able to find a job so we can afford repairs." He flipped a switch overhead, then pressed his fingers to the side of his helmet. There was a shrill burst of feedback and he shook his head, grumbling and striking the control panel with a firm hand. Then, he tapped the side of his helmet again.

There was a brief pause. "Th-is is Mos Eisley Tower, we are tracking you. Head for bay three-five, o-ver." 

The voice was staticky, but still easily understood. "Copy that." The Mandalorian confirmed, toggling the overhead switch. "Locked in for three-five."

His fingers drummed on the control panel absently, then shifted around to check the levels as the Razor Crest began its approach.

…

The landing was, to quote a certain armored man...not spectacular. 

You could feel the Crest sliding to one side, the Mandalorian just barely missing the edge of the hangar bay. The landing gear whined loud when it extended and the whole ship settled onto the ground with a series of clatters and clanks that had you grimacing. You clearly had your work cut out for you.

"I'll get started." You sighed, undoing your harness. 

"No. Stay put." He answered sharply, already shuffling past you.

"What? But I'm...I can help!" You protested, pursuing him down the ladder. Was he really still in that mindset of not letting you do anything? Even after you had patched this junker up on Sorgan?! 

The boarding ramp lowered, steam billowing as the cool air inside the ship hit the blistering heat outside. Now this felt familiar. Sand, sun, grungy little droids…

You opened your mouth to greet the spindly pit bots and a blaster bolt kicked up a chunk of sand right in front of the closest droid. You whirled, snapping, "Hey! Do not shoot them! I was going to say hello!" 

The impassive man offered you a shrug, sliding his blaster back into its holster before droning, "No droids near my ship."

You threw your hands up and then jammed them in your coveralls, spotting a surly-looking woman heading your direction. "You can talk your own way out of this one, bucket boy." You muttered.

A stifled chuckle issued from the Mandalorian at your hissed words, the warm noise sliding down your spine to curl in your stomach. You blinked several times, a little confused at the violent reaction your body had to something as mundane as his laugh. 

The older woman (her jumpsuit name patch read PELI in faded blue lettering) did in fact proceed to verbally rip the Mandalorian limb from limb for "putting his bolts anywhere near her bots." She then started looking the Crest over, somehow simultaneously unimpressed with the state of it and impressed that he had managed to land it at all.

The Mandalorian bore the assault silently, but you could tell how irritated he was just from the set of his shoulders. You refused to pity him though, at least not outwardly. "I've got five hundred Imperial credits." He stated once she allowed him to get a word in edgewise.

"Five hundred and seven." You amended, shooting him a glare when he jerked his head to the side to look at you.

The woman snorted derisively, frizzy hair bouncing on her shoulders with the force of her head shake. "That'll cover the bay, but you want repairs done without droids. My time is valuable!"

"I'll get you your money." The armored man assured her tersely.

"I've heard that one before."

"I'm a former detailer." You spoke up, drawing her attention off of him. "I can follow directions and I'm familiar with this particular craft."

"Ah, that's why he's got you with him?" Peli mused sarcastically. "I figured it was for your stellar listening skills."

"I'm also a real crackerjack of a singer." You shot back, grinning. "I help keep the ship morale up."

"Oh I'll bet you do." She rolled her eyes and then jabbed a stern finger up at the Mandalorian. "Listen, I'll get started on it. But I'm making no promises and if you try to stiff me, I'm not giving you your junker back. Understand?"

He exhaled hard, nodding. 

Peli made a shooing motion. "Alright then, git! Go on. Off you go. Find a good bounty and don't you dare come back without the money!" The fact that she was ordering him around made your giggles incredibly difficult to stifle, but somehow you managed until he stalked off out of the hangar. "Mandos are always so self-important and broody." Peli informed you sagely over the sound of your sputtering laughter. "Gotta' take 'em down a peg or two whenever you can." 

A wail echoed from inside the ship and your cackling jerked to a halt. "Oh!" You exclaimed, bolting back up the ramp. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

The child, who had awoken alone and secured in the bunk, sniffled up at you when you hit the auto-roll for the shutter. They looked so incredibly distressed that you immediately felt guilty, scooping them up and moving back to the ramp. 

"I'm sorry, were you scared?" You asked the child as their eyes squinted in the brilliant desert sunlight. "It's okay, I'm right here with you."

Peli whistled. "Maker, that thing is ugly. But a cute kinda' ugly, I guess." The baby cooed, clawed fingers tangling into your tan cloak. "Oh, he's a little heartbreaker. Look at those eyes!" Peli appeared to be absolutely smitten, the older woman scooting in close to examine the child. "You'll need to be careful with his ears in this sunlight, he looks thin-skinned. Don't want him gettin' crispy, no we don't!" She continued in a singsong tone, tickling them under their chin. 

…

You were uncertain of when exactly the Mandalorian had returned from his job hunt, too preoccupied with the repair work. Up to your armpits in the left engine's ion acceleration chamber, to be precise. 

Your only warning was an abrupt shout of "hey!" and then the kid started bawling, which in turn sent you into fight or flight mode. You pulled free of the turbine and skittered down to the cockpit of the ship, hauling your wrench with you for protection. 

Your heart rate slowed once you realized he was just arguing with Peli, the older woman holding the child protectively to her chest.

"And you!" The Mandalorian yelled up at the ship, making you squirm guiltily. "Get down from there, I told you before that I don't want-"

"They're just helping me out!" Peli protested. "My joints are too rickety to be up on top of that death trap."

The Mandalorian glared at her, his shoulders heaving. You scrambled down the handholds alongside the cockpit and dropped to the ground from there, hesitantly coming alongside the seething bounty hunter. "I...I just wanted to help." You mumbled, fidgeting with the wrench and then tugging the repair manual Peli had given you out of your pocket. "I can-"

"Fine." The armor-clad man spat, the word jagged even through his modulator. "I've gotten a job. Shouldn't take too long." He was pointedly avoiding looking at you, all of his attention narrowed to Peli and the child in her arms. 

The noise of an engine outside the doorway had him jerking his head up, and with a final muttered expletive he stormed off. Peli followed after him, still berating him for his "rude language in front of the baby!", and you trailed along behind. You were admittedly curious about the job. What could he have found in this tiny little town? Did they even have a Guild outpost here?

Once you reached the outer doorway, you realized that he was apparently no longer working alone. There in front of you was a young man, dressed in entirely the wrong clothes for the climate. He was perched nonchalantly atop a speeder bike, a second one hovering alongside him. "Mando!" He greeted the armored man, gesturing at the bike. "What do you think? Not too shabby, eh?" 

The Mandalorian just grunted, beginning to circle around the bike. 

Your hands balled into fists and you huffed out an angry breath. Oh sure, he would work with some random stranger he dug up out of the sand! But the second you tried to be helpful, you got put in a glorified cupboard on baby duty! 

The young man leaned back, giving you a friendly look that went on for a bit too long. "Hey there. Name's Toro. Toro Calican." He introduced himself with a little bow, a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth. "I've been here a while but I haven't seen you before."

"Let's go." The Mandalorian demanded before you could say anything to Toro, impatiently revving the starter on his speeder bike.

"Stay safe!" You snapped. You might have said it more out of spite than good will, but the wish was no less potent for it.

The armored man tilted his head, giving the impression that he was surprised. "You...you as well." He replied begrudgingly, then opened the throttle.

"It was nice meeting you!" Toro called over the sound of the engine, throwing up a quick wave before he set off in pursuit of the other man.

"Well, that was interesting." Peli mused once the two hunters had vanished into the dust. She shot you a curious look. "Is your Mandalorian always so possessive?"

"He's not my Mandalorian!" You retorted hotly. "I have no idea why he's being so...so-"

"Pigheaded? Stubborn? Broody?" Peli suggested one word after another and you felt yourself smiling, even though you were still angry.

"Stupid." You corrected her. "He's stupid. And not mine. I take no ownership of that." You gestured out at the sand dunes. "If there's work that needs to be done, I'm not asking for permission."

"Well, we had better get to it then!" Peli said, strangely enthusiastic. "There's a hell of a fuel leak I'm going to need you for, as well as some kinks in the strut shocks. Never mind the engine, though I'm sure you're already halfway done with it."

You flipped to the first page in the repair manual, tapping your fingers down on the exploded view of the engine. "I did have a question about this section here. As you can see, this one has a weird shear point where one of the bolts should be removed. If I put the pins here instead, do you think it would hold better?"

…

The two of you worked long into the night. It seemed as soon as you fixed one thing, a new issue would arise. The Crest had been held together with nothing but spot-welding and a prayer! Your stomach flip-flopped at the realization that you had trusted that in deep space. Granted, you hadn't exactly picked the ship you were stranded on, but still-!

"You are a lucky, lucky thing." Peli called up the ladder, continuing to seat the refresher's new gasket snugly into its coupling. "If this seal had gone, your whole ship would be swamped with the grey tank backwash."

"Better the grey tank than the black tank." You replied, laughing when she made a gagging sound. You had taken a break from the engine to unbolt the cockpit shielding so you could scrape it, planning on putting down a fresh line of caulking around the edges of each pane. When you and the Mandalorian had returned to the Razor Crest after it had been parked on Sorgan, a small puddle had collected on the floor beside the pilot's chair. Whether from condensation or an actual leak you couldn't say, but everything on the ship seemed due for a replacement.

"Pass me the sealant when you're done with it." Peli requested loudly. "This gasket won't do you any good unless I patch these areas."

"Need the spanner too? I've got the fifths up here." You offered, hanging upside down through the ladder port to hand her the extra tube of caulking.

"Yeah--wait no, give me the flathead. Sealant and flathead so I can cinch this ring." Peli tweaked one of the child's ears fondly while you fumbled around in your tool belt. Sure, you could have sat upright and gotten it done much quicker, but hanging upside down was half the fun of even having a tween-decks ladder in the first place. "Does he usually just watch like this? He's being so quiet!" She remarked.

"Those eyes see everything." You replied wryly. "They're probably just glad something isn't exploding near them."

"Exploding?" Peli sputtered. "What have you two been up to?!"

You bit your lip, uncertain of how much you should actually say. "We had a few run-ins with some...less than friendly people. Raiders and stuff."

"And how did you end up around people like that?" Peli queried, her voice muffled as she ducked back into the fresher. 

You groaned, rolling over onto your back on the cockpit floor and staring up at the starry sky overhead. "A certain stupid armored individual with a gruff attitude and…" you paused as the gravity of what you were saying hit you. "...and...and a soft spot for helping people in trouble."

"Oho, so that's his story, huh?" Peli's tone was smug. "Should have figured. Not everyone reacts like a raging anooba when they see a stranger holding their baby." 

"Is that what he was angry about?"

"I'm pretty sure if I hadn't been holding this little nub the way I was, your Mandalorian would have put a hole in my chest." She didn't sound overly concerned.

"Not mine." You corrected her absently, getting back up and using the flat of your old knife to smooth out the bead line. "Never mine." You murmured quietly to yourself, barely resisting the urge to heave another sigh. Obviously the armored man's most prolific method of expression was rubbing off on you if even you were resorting to sighing. 

What were you thinking, letting yourself get all twisted up over someone like him? This was pointless. 

…

It was mid afternoon, nearly dusk the following day when you finally managed to finish repairing the engine. It had been a big job, the biggest one you'd ever tackled, but Peli looked it over several times and declared it fine work. 

"You did almost as good as my droids!" She exclaimed, one of the spindly bots beeping a loud complaint in reply. "I'd offer you a job if I thought you'd take it, but I know better than to trust your Mandalorian alone with this little angel."

You had given up on insisting he wasn't your Mandalorian, simply rolling your eyes instead of wasting your breath. "What does the rough estimate look like? I may have no choice but to work off the debt if he doesn't come back." After the playful words left your mouth, your brow furrowed. He had said it wouldn't take too long. What was his idea of not taking too long? A day? Three days?

Concern churned in your mind as the older woman laughed off your inquiry. You had no real frame of reference to work with, no clue how long a bounty hunt could actually go on for. What if something had happened to him? You swallowed hard. 

What if he and that young man he had joined forces with were stranded somewhere out in the dunes? Guilt elbowed in to war with the concern. If something had gone wrong, the last thing you said to him…

Stay safe, your memory reminded you, in a tone laden with spiteful sarcasm. 

You shook your head at your unusually-dire train of thought. That would do you no good! The Mandalorian would be back soon enough and then you would be on your way to wherever came next, is what you told yourself firmly. 

Fake it 'til you make it, right?

In the face of the encroaching twilight you sat cross-legged on the boarding ramp, slowly fishing tiny bits of pickled mudjumper out of one of the jars that Omera had sent with you. The child gurgled happily, little fingers clumsily shoving the meat into their mouth.

"Do I even want to know?" Peli inquired warily, gesturing at the jar.

"Mudjumpers." You replied, giving the brine a shake. "The kid loves 'em. They'd eat 'em whole."

The older woman pulled a face. "He's lucky he's cute. For anyone else, that'd be a dealbreaker."

The pit droids abruptly started to shriek and rattle, indicating that something had spooked them. You peered out into the darkness, squinting and then grinning with relief. "Mr. Calican!" You greeted the young man gladly, getting to your feet and wiping your hands off with a rag. "I take it you two finished the job?" You looked over his shoulder, expecting to see the large, beskar-clad form bringing up the rear. "Where's the Mandalorian?"

Toro seemed a bit preoccupied and didn't answer you immediately, his eyes darting to the baby who was still gnawing on a chunk of mudjumper. "Oh, yeah. Mando's uh...he'll be along. You guys have any water? I'm parched."

"Of course! I'll get you some, give me a second." You nodded, turning and rushing back into the Crest. As much as you had been fearing and anticipating the Mandalorian's return, it was still a relief to know that he was alright. 

Calican accepted the small canteen you gave him with a murmur of thanks. He had the kid on his knee, the small child too invested in their snack to pay him any mind. "He's a cute little guy. Where'd you pick him up?" Toro asked curiously. 

You shook your head. "I couldn't say. He was here before me. The tyke is a veteran shipmate." 

"Oh? Huh. Interesting." Toro took another long swig from the canteen. "You know, I heard something a while back."

You cocked your head, confused and a little uneasy at the way his expression had darkened. You abruptly wished that he wasn't holding the kid. "What...what did you hear?"

"Well, I mean, it's not that interesting. Still…I'm kinda' interested to figure out if it's true or not." He shifted to his feet and pressed his blaster to the side of the child's head. "Call it...morbid curiosity."

"W-What are you doing?" You asked, your voice shaking. "Calican, if this is a joke, it's not-"

"Keep back." He warned sharply. "I'm not looking to hurt any of you, but I will if I have to."

The blaster gave neither you nor Peli any room to argue, though the older woman still wanted to try. "You're gonna' be real sorry when their Mandalorian gets here!" She said angrily, her hands hoisted over her head.

Toro scoffed. "Their Mandalorian is a traitor who shot up the Bounty Hunter's Guild on Nevarro! I'm bringing him to justice." He announced, his voice dripping with self-importance while he prodded the baby with his blaster. His motions made your heart leap into your throat in terror, "and this little runt is stolen property, which needs to be returned to its rightful owner."

Your mind whirled. That couldn't be right. Nevarro--

What the armored man had admitted to you on Sorgan came rushing to the forefront of your memory, "I won't be able to bring you back to Nevarro. I can't...I can't go back there." 

Was it true? Is that what the child was? Is that why he couldn't return? He had stolen the child and shot up the Guild?

You took a step forward without conscious thought, reaching down to your boot for your vibroblade. "Let them go." 

Toro wasn't some hulking Klatoonian. He wasn't a veteran dropship trooper and he definitely wasn't a lightning-fast Mandalorian. As far as you could tell he was just like you, except he had a gun. Reducing him down to that made him much less terrifying.

The young man yelped, jamming the blaster against the child's head. "You do anything with that and I'm gonna' take this kid apart. All I want is the Mandalorian." He snapped.

"Unfortunately for you, all I want is the kid." You snarled.

He whipped his blaster around to your head, obviously shaken. "I'm not-"

"If you shoot me, you'd better kill me. Because if you hurt that child, I will kill you." You announced firmly, your trembling knees locked in place. He's just a human. He's young and dumb. "Let me hold the child and I'll get rid of my knife." You bargained, holding the weapon up. "I know how the kid operates. If you keep jostling them around like that, you're going to make them cry. They're loud, Toro. Someone will hear." You extended your hands. "I promise. All I want is the kid."

Toro appeared to mull it over, his eyes narrowed as he stared at you. "Drop the knife first." He demanded finally. "You drop that knife and...and you promise to keep this little bastard quiet."

You nodded. Your blade landed with a hollow clatter on the boarding ramp and Toro shoved the child into your waiting grasp. You didn't even have a second to breathe before the young man had your free arm wrenched behind your back, making you cry out in pain when he twisted your wrist. 

"Calican!"

You almost lost your grip on the child in relief when you spotted the Mandalorian standing at the end of the ramp, blaster in hand and somehow giving off the impression that he was fit to be tied. He had his shoulders squared, helmet tilted down and his feet spread like a raging mudhorn about to charge.

"Took you long enough, Mando." The young man drawled, his blaster thumping against your temple. "Looks like I'm calling the shots now, huh partner? Drop your blaster and raise 'em. And you," he jeered in your ear, "had better stay where you are if you know what's good for you."

The Mandalorian obeyed grudgingly, spitting, "Damn it stowaway, why-"

"Hey, it's not my fault that your hotshot pet bounty hunter skittered out from underneath your thumb!" You barked at him.

"I told you to stay safe!" He bellowed in reply.

"I told you first!" You screamed. 

"Will you shut the hell up?" Calican punctuated his request with a solid slam of the pistol grip into the side of your head, the blow sending stars across your vision. "Shut the hell up, the both of you. Now," He continued to Peli, tossing her a set of magnacuffs. "Cuff him."

The older woman slowly made her way down the ramp and Calican shifted his weight nervously, keeping you tight against his side as a human shield. "Fennec was right." He giddily declared to the Mandalorian. "Bringing you in won't just make me a member of the Guild, it'll make me legendary." 

The baby squirmed against your arm, obviously uncomfortable. "It's alright, sweetheart." You crooned, trying your hardest to keep your voice steady. "I'm right here with you. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"Yeah, except it's not really up to you anymore, is it?" Calican pointed out snidely. Peli raised the cuffs to snap them onto the Mandalorian's wrists and Toro's arm went tense, no doubt in preparation to squeeze the trigger. 

There was a strangely-muffled report and then blinding light seared your eyes, forcing you to slam them shut. Was that a flare? When you opened them again, the Mandalorian was gone. Toro swore, firing wildly at where the armored man had been standing. The kid started to sob pitifully and you struggled against Calican, simultaneously panicking and furious. "Let me go!" You yelled, straining to twist free.

The distinctive sound of the Mandalorian's heavy blaster firing from the side made your ears ring. Calican grunted and you felt his hold on you tighten, the young man toppling off the edge of the ramp. 

The baby!

You reeled, cupping the back of their head when Toro's limp weight knocked you over with him. You barely managed to roll in time, absorbing the brunt of the impact with your shoulder as you hit the ground still half on top of Calican. The sharp edges of his belt buckle drove into your hip for your trouble. 

You coughed out, keenly aware that the child was screaming. Maker, hopefully they were simply spooked by all the commotion. After all, if something happened to them the Mandalorian would absolutely slab you, or worse. 

"You're alright sweetheart." You assured them shakily. You settled onto your haunches as they continued to wail, keeping them tight to your body while you blinked away your reflex tears. "Shh, shh, you're alright. It was just noise and some bumps, love," you soothed, rocking them gently. "I've got you."

The Mandalorian skidded to his knees in front of you, gloved hands fumbling at the little one's limbs like he was checking for breaks. As the child's hysterics petered out into exhausted sniffling, the armored man slowed somewhat. "I'm sorry." He said quietly. "I-I shouldn't have-"

"Hey, hey. You got him." You interrupted, shaking your head. "I'm just glad you're such a good shot. I'm sure losing my cool didn't help your aim!"

"I d-didn't...know what to do." He admitted. "He was...I just couldn't think of anything else." His hand covered your own on the back of the child's head. "I'm sorry. For everything." He apologized sincerely. "For being so--for treating you like…" he trailed off, muttering something under his breath. His helmet pressed to your forehead and you cursed inwardly, positive he could feel you trembling. "You're not here because you chose to come along." He said finally.

"I did choose, but I get it." You said softly. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have been so reckless. Both when I was working on the ship and, uh, just now, I guess."

"No, you did well. You...you did very well." There was a smile in his voice when next he spoke, "You got him to hand over the kid so I could take a clear shot. You keep surprising me, stowaway."

"Alright, break it up!" Peli said loudly, getting between the two of you to extract the snuffling child. "Honestly, shameless." She chided and the Mandalorian sighed in exasperation, the familiar noise making you smile for a second. "Now, I'm going to assume you didn't get paid." 

The armored man turned and jerked a small pouch off of Toro's belt, then tipped the prolific contents into the older woman's hand. "That cover me?" He asked bluntly.

"Oh." Peli pursed her lips. "Yeah, yep. I'd say that'll just...well, you can have your five hundred seven deposit back." She amended after a moment of counting the various currencies in her palm.

The Mandalorian shook his head. "Keep it. We've put you through enough." He pulled you upright and as he moved to take the child back, you noticed the large impact mark on his breastplate for the first time.

"Hey, wait." You said, catching his arm. "What happened? Your chest…"

"Sniper bolt." He muttered to you. "Beskar took the brunt of it. Got a bruise and a headache from the impact."

"Excuse me, sniper?!" You squeaked. 

"The bounty. She's dead, thanks to a certain someone." The Mandalorian grumbled, none-too-subtly shoving the toe of his boot into Toro's ribs. A large hand palmed the side of your head and you winced, letting him check the area where Toro had struck you with his gun. "Doesn't look like he broke the skin, but you'll be sore."

"Yeah, and you mauling me like a wampa isn't exactly helping that." 

"Sorry. Forgot you're not used to the armor." He apologized again. Maker, you could endure him being apologetic! It made his voice all gentle, even through the modulator. He touched his forehead to the child's, running through a few gestures as their tiny hands clawed for purchase on his smooth helmet. "Let's get moving."

You caught his arm again when he went to turn away and you shifted up onto your tiptoes to press your forehead against his helmet. "Thank you." You said sincerely.

He was still for a moment, before he simply responded, "This is the Way."

"Alright pit droids, let's get this out of here!" Peli ordered, gesturing down at the former Calican as the Mandalorian headed into the Crest with you in tow.

…

You settled the child into their bassinet, running a hand over their tiny head. Those eyes watched you blearily, and a small hand clutched at your sleeve when you went to leave. "Okay love. Do you need a song?" You asked softly, smiling. "A little song so you can sleep?"

The child whimpered uncertainly, their body wriggling underneath their covers. 

You cleared your throat, crossing your arms and leaning on the edge of their bassinet. "Say 'nightie-night' and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me," you sang, stroking a gentle finger down the bridge of their petite nose. "While I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me…" You hummed a few bars, continuing to stroke downward on their face. Soon enough (sooner than you expected, truthfully), their heavy little eyelids slid shut. 

You rose from your spot beside their bassinet, stretching and then climbing the ladder to the cockpit.

"How is he?" The Mandalorian asked worriedly before you could even sit down. 

"Tired," was your honest answer. "I didn't even get through the full song before he was gone."

"At least he's sleeping." He sounded relieved. The Razor Crest cruised along sand dunes and broad, flat mesas bathed in the light of the stars and you moved up to the side of his chair, wanting to take in the sight before the ship broke the atmosphere. 

"Wow." You breathed. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him tilt his head to look up at you, but you didn't pay it any mind. "It looks so pretty from up here. Lonely, but..." 

"Beautiful." The Mandalorian finished quietly when you trailed off.

"Mm, yeah. Melancholy." You nodded, accidentally bumping his shoulder as you went to go back to your seat. He waved off your apology silently, already heavily involved in making the star map calculations. 

You just sat and looked on passively, swiveling the seat back and forth. He was entirely engrossed, fingers tracing diagonal lines as he plotted the course he intended to take. It was entrancing to watch him work, watch the calculations play out in real time at the flick of a switch or the pull of a lever. You were so used to astromech droids being readily available, you had never realized the amount of effort that went into something as 'everyday' as flying a ship.

"I'm going to clean myself up." He announced after the Crest punched through the atmosphere and shifted into hyperdrive. "I've got sand in places I didn't know existed."

"It was just like being back on Nevarro." You said with a smile. He unbuckled his harness and rose from his seat, squeezing past you in the tight space. He stank of speeder oil and dewback, so you were absolutely on board with him bathing. 

Before he swung down onto the ladder, though, you heard him grunt and his breath hitched.

"Are you alright?" The query came out louder than you had intended, making you cringe at your own volume. 

"The bitch shot the speeder out from beneath me before she tried to kill me." He shook his head. "I got thrown. Just a little banged up, that's all." 

"Do you…" You struggled to get the words out as he waited patiently at the top of the ladder. "Do you need help? I mean, I know you've probably dealt with way worse stuff than this. Alone, y'know."

You waited for the curt dismissal, or even worse, the heavy, wordless sigh. But instead, "That's very kind of you."

What?

He cocked his helmet, his visor just as unreadable as ever. "I'm sorry if I caused you concern." He said evenly. "I'm alright."

"Wh--Concerned? Me? Ha! I wouldn't...what, about you? It'd never happen!" You blustered. "I-I was just offering because I know you're--you don't have a great range of motion, that's all!"

He immediately bristled, "My range of motion is just fine-"

"Psh, you could barely get your hands up behind your helmet!" You teased, raising your own arms in mockery of his earlier motion.

"I'm stiff and sore. That's got nothing to-" The Mandalorian cut himself off with a growl, shaking his head again. "You're ridiculous."

"If you need help, I'm here." You sang.

"You certainly are, aren't you." And with that wry observation, he clunked heavily down the ladder.

You unbuckled your own harness once you were certain he was sequestered in the fresher, getting to your feet and pulling your tunic up over your head. Toro's belt buckle had left a healthy divot in your side just above where your pants sat; you winced in pain every time your waistband grazed the area. 

You reached for your toolbelt, abandoned on the floor hours earlier once you had finished your work on the engine, and rifled through the pouches for your jar of bacta salve. A staple of any self-proclaimed drifter, the thick cream was useful for everything from numbing to disinfecting an area. You scooped a healthy amount into your palm and then gingerly started smearing it on the angry reddish-purple mark, hissing in pain.

The sound of footsteps on the ladder took you by surprise and you froze as the Mandalorian hoisted himself back up into the cockpit, flight suit peeled down to his waist and sans-armor aside from his helmet. 

He also froze when he saw you all hunched over without your tunic on. Or at least, you thought he saw you. It was difficult to tell where he was looking sometimes. 

"Sorry." You apologized with a helpless little grimace after he just stood there for a minute. "I thought you'd, uh, take longer."

"When did that happen? Did he do that to you?" His voice was rough.

"Oh! It's...it's from when I fell." Why was breathing so difficult all of a sudden? "He had a really fancy buckle that made itself comfortable in my hip." The Mandalorian crouched beside you, his hand reaching out. "Wait!" You exclaimed, catching his wrist with two of your clean fingers. "If you get this salve on your gloves, it'll stain-"

"I don't care." He gritted out. Something in his tone caught you off-kilter, different from when he had been apologetic. His fingers pressed into the skin just above the bruise, holding the area taut. "Shit." He grunted, his thumb circling to rub some of the salve in. "You landed hard."

"Had to. It was either that or crush the baby, and I'm not looking to hurt the kid and get slabbed for my trouble." You mumbled. 

His head jerked up to look at you, beskar helmet barely missing your face. "What?" He asked. Why did he sound confused, of all things? He had been the one to threaten you with it!

"W-Well, when I first...when I came onboard, you told me you'd put me in carbonite. You know, if…if something happened to the kid?" You answered hesitantly.

He was silent for a long time, just continuing to work the salve into your skin while you sat panicking. "That was before," he finally replied quietly. "You were a variable. But after what happened on Sorgan, I..."

"Anyway, I'm not the one you should be worried about right now," you rushed on to point out. "You're the one who got thrown from a speeder bike and shot and whatever else you're not telling me. You're kind of the tactical priority in this outfit." 

His chuckle was rueful. "Just thrown and shot a few times, stowaway. I'm hungry, thirsty and sore, not dying."

"Want me to put together a snack for once you're done getting rinsed off? It's the least I can do for your help here." You offered, gesturing down at your side.

He shook his head. "No. I-I won't be able to eat with you."

"I didn't assume that you would." You startled yourself with your own reply. "I know that your helmet is...well, a fixture. I don't know a lot about the Mandaloria...Mandalorian culture, obviously, but I know enough not to expect any shared mealtimes."

"I'm sorry."

"Shush, look, I get it. It's a vital part of your people's way of life, right?" You waited for his nod while struggling back into your tunic. "So, stop apologizing. Lots of different people have lots of different cultures. You not taking your helmet off isn't offending me, it's what your people do. It's your reality, your day to day." You thumped your chest sternly, "This is the Way, right?"

He laughed quietly, mimicking your gesture. "This is the Way."

"So don't worry about it. I just feel bad that you probably only get a few minutes to eat." You continued, "If you want, you can just tell me when you want your, um, out of helmet time, and I can leave you alone until you say otherwise?" 

"I've survived this long." The Mandalorian hesitated, "That's kind of you to offer, though."

"I'm sure you're used to being alone and being able to take it off whenever." You theorized, a little sad that he had to stay in it all the time now just because you or the child were with him.

"I usually keep it on regardless." He shrugged. "Taking it off just means I have to put it back on. It's a necessity."

"Well yeah but...I'm sure you'd like to not have to inhale your food. Maybe wash your hair. Ooo, wait, do you not have any hair? Are you bald?" You gasped in mock-horror, clutching at your chest theatrically. "Maker, is that why you all keep your helmets on? You're as bald as the kid, aren't you?"

"I do groom myself, you know. Regularly." The Mandalorian retorted, the tilt of his head decidedly haughty. "And I'm not bald. Wish I was sometimes. The nape of my neck grows quickly and if I'm sweaty, I get knots."

"Sounds like something that a bald person would say if they're trying to hide it." You teased, grinning at him.

"M' not bald." He insisted after a second, sounding almost sulky. He yanked his threadbare liner shirt up, jabbing a finger at the thick trail of hair that began around his belly button. "I grow hair. I have hair." He continued indignantly.

"You have pubes." You corrected him automatically, your brain grinding to a halt afterwards. Maker, had you really just-?! 

"I've got body hair." He stressed firmly. "Hair on my body. Not just my pubic area."

Ignoring the incredibly alluring prospect of following that trail of body hair down past where his flight suit bunched up around the 'V' of his hips, you forced your eyes upwards when he dropped his shirt hem. "Stars, that looks like it hurts." You winced sympathetically, taking in the livid purple contusion that spread across his right pectoral. The fact that it was dark enough for you to see it clearly through his liner-

"I can live with it. If I hadn't had the beskar, it'd be hurting a lot less." Because I'd be dead hung unspoken in the air between the two of you. 

"I-I'm glad you have the beskar, then." You managed to say faintly. "I'd hate to have to explain to the kid if something...happened."

"Likewise." The Mandalorian responded, his own tone troubled. "He's...he's gotten used to having you around."

The both of you stood there awkwardly, the silence stretching long. "Did you need something?" You asked finally.

The Mandalorian jolted, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't be. "Uh, yes! Yes, I was going to ask if I could borrow your...salve. Used up the last of mine on Sorgan and I haven't been able to get more." He mumbled. 

"Absolutely, definitely!" You exclaimed, hurrying to screw the lid back onto the jar. "I'll just...yep, here you go. Bacta salve." You pressed it into his hands, unable to keep from anxiously fidgeting when he didn't immediately leave. He just stood there, staring down at you. "Was there...was there something else you needed?" You queried nervously.

"I'm not sure." He muttered cryptically, tilting his head to the side. "I...I mean, thank you. I'll bring this back." He quickly amended, tapping his fingers to his chin and then all but bolting for the ladder.

"Be careful, you'll break a leg!" You yelled after him, certain that you imagined the husky laughter you got in reply.

…

It was much, much later when you decided to move down the ladder and head for bed. 

You had stayed in the co-pilot chair for ages, slowly spinning back and forth while your mind replayed the way he had hauled his shirt up. It was so nonchalant, innocent. You had been under the impression that Mandalorians had strict rules about exposure, but maybe it only applied to revealing their face? 

You could always ask, but the idea of offending him was somehow even more repugnant now than it had been when he was threatening to give you the full carbonite treatment. 

You sighed and headed for the ladder, moving carefully when you realized the hold was pitch black. 

He must be asleep, you reasoned a split-second before the fresher door slid open and you were blinded by the brilliant light. Right as your eyes shut in reflexive response, they landed on a pile of beskar armor heaped on the floor. 

There was a very familiar helmet sitting on top of it, the visor glaring up at you mockingly.

You heard him curse and you immediately started apologizing, keeping your eyes shut and waving your hands wildly. "I'm sorry! I-I didn't see, I promise! The light-" 

This is it, you realized grimly. This was the end of you.

"I thought you were still up there. You startled me." He paused, yawning loudly and then continuing, "s'alright now, I turned off the light."

"You're...you're sure it's okay to open my eyes?" You asked cautiously. 

"Hmm? Yeah, it's fine." He mumbled, and you heard the sound of fabric rubbing rapidly back and forth. "Had to clean the armor first, n' then me." His voice was so clear without the helmet. You would be lying if you said you weren't entranced by the soft gravel of it.

You snuck a peek and were simultaneously relieved and disappointed to find that you were still blind. "Shit, I got all turned around." You swore, crouching slightly and feeling your way forward. "Don't want to trip on your knightly attire and wake up the kid." A large, warm hand caught your elbow and you almost shrieked. "Hey! Warn me next time. Maker, I lost years off my life from that!" You hissed, your panic intensified in no small amount by the fact that it was his actual skin touching you, not leather gloves. 

In that moment, you felt like you were somehow responsible for breaking seventeen different rules. And you weren't entirely certain whether you were particularly contrite about it.

"Mhm." He could apparently see fine in the darkness, or at least well enough to lead you across the hold to the space behind the pile of crates that you had claimed as your own. "This s'your stop, stowaway." He murmured sleepily. You froze when you felt his chin brush your forehead lightly, stubble rubbing against your skin and a set of lips pressed to your hairline as he breathed, "G'night."

You managed to pull yourself together long enough to squeak out a reply of, "sleep tight," and you proceeded to tunnel into your blankets once you were certain he had left. What was that?! you asked yourself frantically. 

That was...he was human underneath all that armor. You had known that. 

Technically. Logically. Your brain understood that even before he had decided to flash the great golden expanse of his abdomen at you. So what was the issue? 

Had he just kissed your forehead?! Did that even count as a kiss or was he just so tired that he had bumped into you accidentally? Nothing about it seemed accidental, but he was exhausted. It must have been a mistake, a clumsy little...accident. That's all it was. 

You were just reading too much into it.

Part Five

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 - 25 (Orange)

Summary: Well... when Bo fucks up, she really fucks up, Luckily, CVS is open 24/7. Even luckier, Alistair’s coming with her. How hard could it be to get some damn pink hair dye anyway?

---

There was nothing like the Normandy needing some repair work done that made him appreciate down time.

“You like that, Saren? I got it from your favorite place as a little surprise while I was out getting supplies for everyone.”

The small, round ball of fur continued to shove his food into his bulging cheeks. He was going a little faster than usual of course – that's what happened when he got his favorite snacks – but soon it would all be stored away for later. Until then, he would continue to look absolutely adorable as he sat in his enclosure.

Alistair had picked up more food and bedding for the hamster while he was out, along with a few chew toys and a new hide. Maybe he was spoiling Saren, but... well, why not? Space hamsters may have lived longer than their Earth counterparts, but they still maxed out at 10. They hadn't been sure how old   he was, so... why not make every day count?

Besides, he had pissed on Miranda. That made him a hero.

“It was really busy at the shop when I popped in today. I guess word got out that I go there.” He chuckled as he watched his hamster finish stuffing himself silly. “All full? You look like a little beach ball, Sar.”

Maybe it was his imagination, but he swore he saw Saren's cheeks puff out in indignation.  At any rate, he was soon tunneling into his bedding, to wherever he was storing his food in this cage layout. Alistair would find the remains eventually when he cleaned. It was kind of like one of the weirdest treasure hunts he had ever taken part in...

“Well, bye I guess.”

He shrugged his shoulders and started to return to his desk. However. A beeping from his omni-tool drew the Spectre's attention. There was a message there from Bo – fucked my omni-tool again, might have water damage. Fix?

Oh great... water damage.

“She's lucky I got some extra parts when I went shopping.” Alistair shook his head as he grabbed his tool box and jacket. “Saren, watch the room while I'm gone. If you see anyone from Cerberus sneaking around, you know what to do.”

That was of course look cute to entice them in, then bite the shit out of them. It was a good plan, and Saren executed it like a pro. That's why he always felt a little better when he left to go on missions. How could he not when he had his own personal attack hamster?

Bo hadn't said where she was, but he knew her enough that he stopped by the crew floor to find the XO office. The door was open, so he nudged it open and stepped through. There was water running – was she showering?

Well, good to know she trusted him.

“It's on the desk!” Her voice called out over the water. “Did Saren like the snacks you got?”

Alistair settled into his CO's desk in order to fix her very water-logged omni-tool. He cocked his eyebrow as he examined it further. At first he thought it was a trick of the light, but parts of the band looked to be faded to almost white. A smell test confirmed it as he shook his head. Luckily, he had a replacement band in her size.

“Yeah. Did you forget to take this off when you were bleaching your roots though?”

Bo shut the water off – must've been done rinsing. “Some of it dripped while I was working.”

Of course it did. Alistair resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he pulled the stained band off. After that, it was simple diagnostic and replacement. Apart from the soldering of some replacement bits around the screen, he could've done it in his sleep. Luckily, he was awake so that made it go much faster.

He hummed to himself as he worked. “No big deal, I figured you'd need a new one eventually so I picked one up.”

“Gotta love a well-stocked tech.” Bo sounded like she was shifting around. Then she stopped moving. “Aw fuck...”

Alistair cocked his eyebrow as he put the omni-tool down briefly. “Everything alright in there?”

His XO didn't answer. From the sounds of things, she was getting dressed. At least he knew she hadn't fallen or anything, but her silence was a little concerning. However, going into the bathroom was a bad idea, so he was left waiting on the other side.

“Bo?”

Two red eyes were soon on him. “We're going to have to go back to CVS.”

At first, he started to open his mouth to ask why. That question was answered for him as Bo came into view,  adjusting her shirt as she walked. She had indeed finished bleaching her roots and touching up the color but...

Well, that wasn't pink. In fact, it was pretty damn fucking orange.

She shot him a look that definitely could've killed. “Well, get it over with.”

Alistair returned the omni-tool to his toolbox for later and started patching up details for returning to the dock. “Well... let's be honest, ginger's better on me than you. You can fix that at least, right?”

After all, there was only one redheaded Shepard on the Normandy, and he was under 6 feet tall. Besides, pink really was more her color anyway. He may have been an utter failure when it came to fashion, but at least he sometimes knew basic color theory.

Sometimes, anyway... he still didn't see why he couldn't wear neon blue sneakers with green laces.

“Yeah, just go already.” her hood was already up over the nightmare. “Before anyone really starts making Shepard siblings jokes.”

Perish the thought...

---

“Have I mentioned how much I hate C-SEC?”

“Many, many times.”

Alistair could feel a dull headache throbbing at the base of his implant as he and Bo finally cleared security. For some reason, flying in on the fucking Normandy always attracted some measure of attention. He wouldn't have minded, but they were kind of on a tight schedule.

Bo still had her hood up as they walked. “I swear I checked that damn box before I bought it, how the fuck did this happen?”

“You're asking the wrong guy, maybe the manufacturer mixed up the packages or something.” He shrugged. “I'll check it out later once we get back.”

Hell, maybe a low blood sugar had caused it. Bo might not have been as sensitive to biotic-induced hypoglycemia as he was, but there were times she still got it. For all he knew, this could have been a hypo fuck up. Of course, he'd never suggest that – that was just insult to injury.

What could he say, he was a paragon of virtue like that. Though, maybe he should consider adding a CGM to her omni-tool when he got back...

At least the CVS didn't look too busy from the outside. The parking lot looked pretty empty, but that was probably due to the time. Even the Citadel had slow periods between shifts after all – people had to sleep and eat sometime. It was just a stroke of luck they hit it when they did.

What wasn't so lucky was the guy Bo all but body checked as she entered the store.

Alistair opened his mouth to apologize, but he didn't get the chance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone coming. His reflexes kicked in, and soon a glowing blue barrier was erected around whatever was moving towards him. A shot ricocheted, and then they were down on the ground with a hole in their leg.

Huh. Now why would two guys in dark masks with guns be in a CVS? And why did the few people in there look like they had just seen a ghost?

“Oh, thank God. I thought - “ The clerk paused, realizing who was standing over her would-be robbers as if they did this every day – which, to be fair, they kind of did. It was just usually in armor. “Wait... are you Commander Shepard?”

Alistair was already checking vitals through the barrier. “Yeah. Bo, go get your stuff. I'll handle these two until C-SEC shows up.”

Their gear and weapons were honestly nothing special, and their plan seemed laughable at best. It was just their luck they had run into amateur hour at thievery school. Well, no doubt they had both earned scholarships to clown college for their boneheaded stunts.

At least the bullet wound didn't look like it had broken anything vital. He'd be able to stand trial for sure at this rate.

“Fuck...” Yeah, his sentiments exactly. “How'd you find us?”

Bo appeared from the aisle, carrying the correct box under her arm. With her hood still up, she slid it over the counter. “We walked in. Can I buy this now, or does C-SEC need to count the total?”

“Oh, they didn't get the chance to take anything! You two showed up just as soon as they drew their guns!” There were stars in the clerk's eyes as she ran Bo up. “I don't know how to thank you, I thought I was going to get shot!”

Alistair's medigel applicator dinged as it dispensed the appropriate dose for the would-be robber still trapped in his barrier. It would hold until he got proper medical attention with C-SEC. With that done, he checked on the other genius. He was still on the floor, groaning.

No surprises there – it was hard to take a full body check from Bo “The Pink Monster” Shepard and  make it out without anything broken. Definitely had at least some kind of concussion if the unfocused vision was anything to go by.

Well, at least he didn't crack his skull. Those were messy.

“I doubt they would've hit, their aim was terrible.” Bo accepted her bag just as the C-SEC sirens announced their arrival. “Well, took them long enough.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder. “Al, mind handling them? I'm gonna get back to the Normandy.”

Normally, this was the part where a commanding officer would have totally pulled rank and made his XO stay. After all, he hated dealing with C-SEC as much as anyone did. However, unlike most CO's, he wasn't a total asshole. That he saved for people who deserved it.

“Yeah, hurry up before they realize it's you.”

Bo actually passed two C-SEC officers on her way out, hood pulled low. Alistair shook his head as he straightened up. His hands still felt sticky from the medigel, but there wasn't much he could do about that at the moment.

At least there were no news cameras.

“Stop right-” A turian with purple tattoos lowered her gun. “Commander Shepard?”

He responded with an awkward wave that highlighted the sticky residue from the medigel. At least nobody could blame him for the gunshot – for once he wasn't armed, even though his Spectre status gave him that permission. Who needed to bring a gun into CVS anyway, except idiots like the ones on the floor? “Wrong place, right time. These two need medical attention, but I think they'll be ok. Their pride, not so much, but I can't fix that.”

That dull headache promised to get worse with the incredulous looks he was getting from the officers. Alistair could only hope that the store's cameras were working, otherwise they were going to have to interview him. And oh, he hated going down to the C-SEC offices more than pretty much everything except the Illusive Man, low blood sugar, and the sound of his own voice.

Bo better thank him for this one later... hopefully when her hair was back to pink. Again, orange really was more of his color. Chalk it up to the Irish genes and all.

“So... guess you want to have a chat then?”

Why did he even ask... fuck. He should've stayed in his room with Saren.

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 9

Hey, no narrator explaining the Alchemy basics this time, just straight into the intro song? Last time, the Elrics broke into the Fifth Lab, encountered two Soul Armors, and Pudgy the Jerk made Al wonder about his free will. Here’s hoping that we fix these worries this episode.

Episode 09 - “Created Feelings” Annoyed Ed is Annoyed, scowling in his hospital bed. Ross and Brosh try to stay positive, but have to admit to Ed that the Lab’s kinda gone the same way as the library. And Ed can’t even get properly mad about that, he’s so beat up. So close to finding out the truth… Wait, what are you two apologizing for? If anything Ed’s the one who should be apologizing for running- OH! Ed done just got slapped by Ross, who’s calling him a selfish child, who doesn’t have to do everything by himself. Thanks for knocking some sense into the boy, Ross! Ross and Brosh maintain their professional demeanor (did they rehearse this earlier, their performance is spot on), right up until Ed admits he had it coming and they collapse in relief. Oh hey, explanation that SA’s are equivalent to major, like you guys said. Ed lets them know they don’t have to act so professional around him. Um, but maybe a bit more professional than that? Where’s Al in all this? He got his lecture earlier (and Brosh was the attempted slapper). And speaking of lectures… Uh oh. Ed’s gotta call Winry, tell her that his arm’s busted already. Immediately she remembers that loose screw. Whoops! Still ticked off that Ed got in another fight, but she recovers quickly and makes plans to head for Central. [Brosh]: “Aw, was that your girlfriend?” [Ed]: “My girlfriend? No way!” Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, buddy. Brosh wheels Ed back to the room since Ed’s busted up his stomach injury again, idly trying to talk girls with Annoyed Ed. Oh hey, there’s Al! Whatcha doing in the dark, buddy? Ugh, Al’s still brooding over what Pudgy said. And in a moment of cosmic irony, some kid’s robot toy walks right into him. Seeing an example of what we know he used to be, and what Pudgy said that he is… Damn it. I don’t wanna consider it. But do we know for sure that Pudgy’s wrong? I mean, we saw kid-Alphonse up until he was consumed in the Human Transmutation. And we’ve seen other examples of Soul Armor with Pompous and Pudgy. But do we know for sure that there was continuation of consciousness? You have to admit, it’s possible that Soul Armors create an impression of a person, formulate an identity based on the thoughts of the binder. Al’s thinking of his little brother when he does the binding, and the resulting suit of armor acts like his brother used to. The executioners think about the murderers that they are hanging, and that carries over to the new guards. We haven’t even had a non-Armor perspective of Al, even. I just can’t discount the possibility. At the train station, Winry’s complaining about the seats, wondering how Ed and Al can take so many trips. Looking around the West Exit, she should see someone she recogni- oh hey Armstrong! That was easy enough. But she’s still looking around? Uh oh. She doesn’t understand why the Elric Brothers aren’t there as well. Now Winry’s freaking out at the hospital, staring at the heavily-bandaged Ed even as he snarks that she’ll probably charge him an express service fee. To which she says she won’t charge anything, she didn’t do a good enough job last time? Woof. While she mopes, the others look pointedly at Ed, who starts frantically insisting it’s not her fault. Winry realizes that Ed never noticed the missing screw, really thinks that it’s all his fault. So she’s off the hook! What a relief, now she can treat him like normal! Cue her setting out express fee, chiding him for not drinking his milk, Ed whining that he doesn’t wanna, The Mighty Armstrong being VERY DISPLEASED with Ed’s attitude - yay, we’re back to happy times! But Al was looking through the door, just closed it and walked away. Boo, give me back my happy times! As Winry works on the arm, Ed talks about how Al’s been acting odd lately (Winry takes the opportunity to sneak the missing screw into the repairs). Al’s back in the Shadowed Hallway, looking into a mirror, shattering a mirror with barely any effort.

Repairs are done, Ed’s thanking Winry for the work- Sudden Civilian-dress!Hughes! [Hughes]: “Yo, Ed, my boy! Is it true that you brought a pretty blonde girl into your room to service you?” [Ed]: “*faceplant* She’s my automail mechanic that’s all! Nothing more!” [Hughes]: “Oh… I see. You’ve seduced your mechanic, have you?” Oh jeez. Hope you’re good at dodging, Hughes. I’m pretty sure Winry has a wrench with your name on it. Or rather he’ll just enthusiastically shake her hand. And Ed can’t just tell him to go do his work, he pushed it all off to poor Sheska. But good news, Ed and Al shouldn’t have to be under guard too much longer!... Winry is not to pleased to hear about this “bodyguard” business. Did you seriously not explain how your arm got obliterated before? Nope, he didn’t tell her then, and his stubborn attitude means all he’ll say now is that it “doesn’t concern her”. Jeez, Ed. You don’t make it easy to be your friend. Winry packs up and says that she’ll see him tomorrow, she’s got to find someplace to stay for the night. Oh hey, a new houseguest for Hughes! Brace yourself for photo-albums, Winry. Actually, forget photo albums! How about a whole birthday party for Elicia! (Dang, should have seen this episode yesterday). Congrats on three years! Oh my Leto, the whole “I’m two….. No, I’m three!” is stupidly adorable. NO WAIT even the Narrator just chuckled when doing the halfway “Fullmetal Alchemist” cards! Hurk!

Later that night, Winry’s talking about how she’s known the Elric Brothers for a long time, they’re like her brothers (well, maybe Al. NO I WILL NOT LET THIS SHIP GO). But they don’t talk to her, even when it’s clear things are bothering them. Hughes talks about how guys try to talk through actions rather than words, try not to burden others with their pain. But when a time comes that they do ask for help, Hughes knows that Winry will be there for them. As they finish talking, we get a sweet scene of some little boys asking to play with Elicia… and then arguing about who she wants to play with. Aw, quite the heartbreaker alre- Hughes put the gun down! Quieter actions Hughes, quieter actions! Next morning, Winry’s saying her goodbyes even as the family extend their hospitality. Elicia even huuuuuuurk nope nope too cute, clutching Winry’s sleeve. Hughes remarks that they could be sisters- [Elicia]: “Sissy! Be safe, ok? And come back and visit me real soon!”

At the hospital, Ed is shocked... to encounter milk with his food again. Al tries getting him to drink it, saying that he has “a living body that needs nourishment” (still thinking about Pudgy). Ed just offhandedly remarks that he won’t do it if he doesn’t want to, that he has grown some even if others, like Hughes and Winry who are arriving, keep calling him pipsqueak. [Ed]: “I wish I was like you, Al. You’ve got such a big body now.” [Al]: ”It’s not like I asked for this body, brother!” Oh jeez. It’s coming to a head. Ed starts apologizing, saying that he’ll get Al back in his real body soon. But Al’s not having any of it, yelling that Ed always says that, that he can’t believe anything when he’s stuck in this body, that memories are just scraps of information that can be made up as easily as anything else. Al thinks he knows now what Ed was afraid to tell him. That Al’s soul and memories are artificial constructions that Ed created. Ed slams his hands on the table. Then asks if Al’s finished talking. Then quietly gets up and walks out of the room. Al… Ed… WINRY! Hoo boy, Winry is pissed, smacking Al around with her wrench. I mean, Al did just accuse her, Granny, and Ed of lying to him. Oh. But she’s not upset about that. She’s upset because she knows what Ed was going to say: That he wanted to ask Al if he blames him for what happened to his body. Flashback to injured Ed at the Rockbell’s crying that Al lost his body, it’s all his fault. Al can’t eat, sleep, feel… how could he forgive the one who was supposed to protect him? Granny insists that Al doesn’t feel that way, that if Ed just asks he’ll know the truth. But Ed’s too afraid. Winry keeps striking Al, crying that even as Ed harbored those doubts, Al came and accused him of creating a fake brother just to control. And Winry ask who could do something like that, risk their life to create a fake brother. … That depends, Winry. To create a puppet? No one. To try and bring back what was lost, even if was ‘fake’? … moving on. For now, Winry orders Al to go after his brother. Up on the roof, Ed’s leaning on the railing, Al standing in the doorway. He goes to speak, but Ed cuts him off. [Ed]: “You know somethin', Al… We haven’t had a good fight in a while. I’m starting to get flabby.” The slippers come off. Ed charges, kicking and punching even as Al tells him to stop, that his wounds aren’t healed enough for a spar. Then, sheet to the face! While Al’s blinded, Ed knocks him down, declaring that he’s won. Hey, this would be the first match he’s ever beaten Al in, right? Even though Al argues that it wasn’t a fair fight. Heh. Ed reminisces on how they’ve fought since they were little, over some very stupid things. Like who got the top and bottom bunks? Um excuse you, who gets the top bunk is not stupid thank you very much. And don’t get me started on candy or toys. I’ve had to defend my stuff against a twin and a little brother, that is srus bizness!

[Al]: “We even fought over which one of us would marry Winry someday.” [Ed, panicked]: “What?! I don’t remember that one!” [Al]: “I won the fight… but she shot me down.” [Ed, nonchalant]: “Oh… did she?” Ed challenges Al to discount all those memories as lies, or his determination to regain his body. They’re in this together, remember? They’ll make themselves stronger, faster and better until they get their bodies back. Even if it means they have to drink the dreaded milk. *shudder* As the brothers fist-bump, Hughes and Winry look on from the doorway. (Please, please tell me she heard about their previous fights). Winry remarks that one doesn’t have to always hear something out loud, but it is helpful sometimes. Now, to put Ed back to bed and get some proper rest! [Strong Winds]? Heat-wave desert with a white flag? Oh hey, it’s Scar! [Scar]: “My brother…” Wait. What? Scar has a brother? Oh good grief. First we get the Slicer brothers, now we learn that Scar has/had a brother too?! I swear, and I thought RWBY was bad with sisters. Well anyways, not just his brother, Scar mentions his Master too, saying they’re all gone. Aftermath of the genocide? Sudden intruder! Hey, it’s Smiley/Kimblee, that guy who’s in jail now. He identifies himself as a State Alchemist send to exterminate the sector. He Transmutes from circles drawn on his hands- Scar wakes up, bandaged and under a blanket. A small red-eyed boy cheerfully notes he’s awake, and an older white-haired man tells Scar that he’s in a slum outside East City. Guessing they’re all Ishvalan? Little Kid says that Scar shouldn’t move, they found him floating in the sewers badly injured. Remembering his fight with the Goths, Scar asks if he still has his right arm and oh my gosh are you serious? We’ve already got the brother parallels, you really gonna make him lose an arm to be a more blatant counterpart to Ed? Oh, nevermind, he’s still got it. Lots of tattoos… gift from his family? Post-credits! [Narrator]: “A good friend became a comrade in arms, and over time his presence was taken for granted.” ...wait, what? “Although the future they once dreamed of became bleaker than they had ever imagined, this good friend was always there by his side, where he belonged.” Show. Show, no. NO. Stop implying what I think you’re implying! “Next time, on Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood-” OH SWEET LETO NO NO NO THAT WAS LUST’S SILHOUETTE NO NO NO Episode 10 - “Separate Destinations” “A friend whose presence comes as naturally as breathing can never be replaced.” NNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Super-Villain Team-Up #9: Pawns of Attuma!

December, 1976

Sigh.

Okay, so. I considered bundling this issue with the next issue of Avengers because this issue of Super-Villain Team-Up is fairly light on Avengers. Being more concerned with some complicated continuity between Namor and Doom.

But, the Avengers stuff it does have is pretty essential for moving the plot of the crossover forward. So best to focus on just this one issue.

So last time (on Avengers): Okay so Wonder Man is back from the dead but nobody knows how. The Avengers thwarted Living Laser and Vision dumped a dangerous malicious hat into the ocean. And then an Atlantean beat up everyone and put them in slave collars to force them to take part in a crossover. And now the thrilling continuation, possibly.

Oh and Attuma is wearing Vision’s cape. Because its really a nice cape. But Vision looks kind of naked without it.

I don’t like it.

Anyway, the Avengers are in slave collars forcing them to do Attuma’s bidding and something something beat up Namor something take over the world. Its foolproof.

Speaking of, the Avengers have arrived at Hydrobase. With a name like that, you gotta figure that Namor is hanging around it (he isn’t).

Of course, they try their damnedest to not just do what the bad guy wants them to do but when Iron Man tries to break away from Hydrobase, the prisoner with job collar short circuits his armor.

And down goes Iron Man and passenger Cap. There’s no SFX for this pratfall so maybe CRONCH?

Oh also Yellowjacket and the Wasp are here too. For some reason Attuma’s slave collars were designed to shrink down with them. What’s even the point of being the foremost expert on shrinking if you can’t shrink out of situations like this?

The pair also tried to resist and also suffered for it.

Capeless Vision and unconscious Scarlet Witch have also arrived.

Anyway, Iron Man isn’t doing very well overall. Remember how Tyrak the Treacherous beat him by crunching his power unit? And remember how Tony needs his suit to work to keep his heart less shrapnel’d? Well, Attuma’s techs repaired Iron Man’s armor but they took too long and now Iron Man is in terrible shape.

But when Yellowjacket and Cap ask him what’s wrong he insists that he just needs to catch his breath and gets all snippy and defensive.

But on subjects less involving Iron Man not wanting to reveal his heart troubles probably because it might risk his closest friends maybe suspecting that he’s Tony Stark?, the Avengers decide that like it or not they’ll have to do as Attuma commands and destroy Namor.

I guess if a villain forces you to murder someone, you could do worse than a jerk like Namor who attacked you unprovoked multiple times in the past and also doesn’t wear a shirt into court.

Attuma is watching on Villain Surveillance and is satisfied that everything will go good forever and nothing bad will ever happen and takes off to go engage in his secret plan to conquer Earth. Little does he suspect that he has a tail. As in, he’s being followed. I don’t know if he has a physical tail on his butt but suspect, no. Only cool people like Doreen Green get tails.

MEANWHILE, LATVERIA.

Namor and Shroud are being confronted by Dr Doom, probably due to some stuff that happened in previous issues. But its not necessary to really know the full context for Avengers reasons so I’ll deal with necessary context as I go along.

In the previous issue or perhaps off-panel, Shroud punched Namor in the back of the head to keep him from giving away the game because Namor swore an oath to serve Doom but Shroud said Doom was dead which would release Namor from his oath but obviously Doom is alive or else a Doombot or else third option.

Doom dismisses the Circus of Crime that Namor and Shroud were traveling with and then after some undoomesque hesitation, hands over an antidote for asphyxiation. Because hey! Some context required! Namor can’t survive out of water unless he gets some serum from Doom every 24-hours.

But the real takeaway here is that this Doom isn’t Doom or even Doombot. This Doom is secretly actually PRINCE RUDOLFO, THE RIGHTFUL CROWN PRINCE OF LATVERIA!

I have never heard of this guy.

Apparently his dad was the Hitler-admiring, Roma-persecuting asshole that Doom overthrew in order to make Latveria his own. So I instantly have zero sympathy for this Rudolfo’s quest to ‘liberate’ the country.

Namor even points out that exchanging Doom’s tyranny for a monarchy that the people feared as much as Doom isn’t much of a liberation.

Rudolfo insists with slightly crazy eyes that no, no he only offers leadership and a pair of capable hands! And when he heard Doom had died, he realized he could replace a Doombot and just waltz into Castle Doom, secure it, and declare revolution.

Still don’t have much sympathy for this guy.

Neither does Namor. Who immediately strips half-naked to fly back to the sea.

He doesn’t have time for all this political nonsense. If Doom is dead, then Namor is released from his oath and his people need him. GET FUCKED, SURFACE DWELLERS! IMPERIOUS REX!

Shroud is up for some liberation though and gets into his work clothes.

But little do Adolfo and Shroud realize that some GI Joe looking goofus has been spying on them and recording their conversation for some shadowy figure.

Meanwhile, the real star of this book (apparently), VICTOR VON DOOM! Chilling in patio furniture, drinking a little wine, condescending the help. Y’know, just Doom things.

He’s supposed to be making a cure for the Atlanteans. I guess he’s on break. For the entire time he’s been there.

Namorita is getting real sick of his shit.

But when Namorita sets a one hour ultimatum, Doom announces OH HEY JUST FOUND THE CURE JUST NOW! But while he has them distracted with the razzle dazzle, he tries to place a secret call to minion Gregor.

And then Namorita shoots him in the wrist, breaking his secret video-phone. Because she’s getting real sick of his shit.

Doom angrily grabs Namorita’s wrist and threatens to break it but then the Avengers OH YEAH through the wall like X-Factor.

Doom tells them to get lost. There’s a non-aggression pact between the US and Latveria so its illegal to attack Doom. I’m no diplomat but this seems legit.

But the Avengers don’t even want Doom, they want Namor. But now they’re fighting Doom because they all kinda want to punch Doom even though they mysteriously don’t want to punch Namor.

Then some red-skinned woman named Tamara knocks out Scarlet Witch by punching her in her wounded arm. And then gets seriously distracted ogling Vision and wondering if he also is a survivor of her extinct race.

And then Yellowjacket and the Wasp shoot her in the face a whole bunch and the Atlantean guards shoot Tamara and the Wasp and Yellowjacket with a wide focus blast to knock out the two heroes.

Meanwhile, Doom calls the Avengers sheep. Because Doom just says things like that every so often. I think its like a villainous impulse. Sitting alone in his throne room he suddenly stands up and points at nothing and declaims “FOOLS!”

Anyway, Vision tries to use his always win move on Doom but Doom is where always win moves go to die and Doom does to Vision what Vision was going to do to him by projecting his force-field through Vision’s body.

Meanwhile, Namorita punches Cap in the back of the head for loudly announcing that the Avengers are here for Namor.

Iron Man then tries to wrassle Doom. Tough armor guy vs tough armor guy, mano y mano.

And he’s off to a great start, just picking Doom up and slamming him through a wall. His follow-through is lacking though.

Because Doom lies motionless, making Tony fret that he killed him oh no he has become a killer! But playing possum is just one of many tricks in Doom’s repertoire. He also takes advantage of Iron Man’s ethical bluescreen to ZZROON him with his finger guns, knocking him out.

Meanwhile, more Avengers!

Beast climbs through the window of the Whizzer’s hospital room. And has to report that the rest of the Avengers have all been captured by Attuma. And that he had to choose wisdom over valor and flee.

Whizzer has a really good idea though. What if the three of them team up and succeed where the Avengers failed?

Point of order, you’re in the hospital for yet another heart attack, argues Wonder Man.

But Whizzer’s secondary superpower is that nobody can stop him from following bad ideas.

So the newest Avenger, Wanda’s elderly ailing temporary dad, and the corpse that somebody left on the Avengers’ doorstep all get into a Quinjet that Beast left parked outside the thirtieth story and fly off.

To be heroes.

Meanwhile, somewhere over the Balkans, the Latverian airforce (which weirdly swears by Lenin’s ghost and call each other comrade? I’m not sure these are the Latverian airforce) try to shoot down Namor. Because he’s a flying man and refuses to respond to a radio check. Perhaps because he can’t keep one in his tiny shorts.

So in response he shoulder checks their fighter jets into oblivion, captures one of them and interrogates him to find out why he has a missile ache in his butt now.

The pilot explains that they were on high alert because Attuma is after a special weapon housed at the Maryland Research Center, with which HE WILL BE INVINCIBLE!

Geez. You are in the know, fight pilot man.

So change of plans. Even though he’s on limited serum time, Namor detours to go beat up Attuma. Because Attuma is a jerk and if he gets special surface-world weapons

“THEN ATLANTIS WILL BE THE FIRST TO FALL!”

Anyway, so now we have a lot of moving parts going on. Attuma after a secret weapon. Namor going to intercept him. The enslaved Avengers getting their asses kicked by Doom and assorted Atlanteans. Beast forming the Scraping The Bottom Of The Barrel Avengers with Wonder Man and the Whizzer. And I guess whatever Shroud and Rudolfo are getting up to.

Still, this crossover isn’t looking very good for the Avengers. Just pawns caught between multiple schemes.

They were at least given an excuse, much like the time a Spider-Man robot embarrassed them all. It is remarked during this issue that the Avengers aren’t as mighty at fighty as usual because they’re resisting the control of the collars as much as possible and its dulling their movements.

So they get to slink away from this crossover with heads held high!

And next time, we’re back to the Avengers book for issue #155.

Hey. Pssst. Follow @essential-avengers. Do it for Namor’s disregard for dress codes.

[woozletania]

Sanctuary, part 3 (first half)

Rocket and Lylla don’t know how to deal with the otter’s newfound mistrust of the raccoon. Luckily they aren’t the only ones on the Milano.

Since I am writing this in chapter form for another archive, and two chapters = 1 post here for some reason that’s entirely my fault, I’m posting them as “halves” as fast as I write them.

***** The Milano was not a big ship. There was the cockpit, a U-shaped common area below that with a reasonably large open area at the back end of the ship (mostly used for training) and what used to be four tiny cabins. Now there were three and a lifeboat and if you didn’t count the two tiny shower/relief areas that was all the room there was.

There were a total of seven beds, three in semi-private rooms and four fold-up beds in the common area that were used mostly as sofas, except the one Drax actually slept on. Throw in some cargo and a workbench or two Rocket set up in the back room and things could get cramped even with only four human-sized crew, one toddler-sized tree and two Uplifts.

So when two of the crew wanted to avoid one another, things started to get awkward. Rocket would take the long way around the U to avoid Lylla and Lylla would stick her nose into the cockpit, find him there and go right back down the stairs. They would sit as far apart as possible at mealtimes, avoiding each other’s gaze. Rocket would spend as little time as possible eating and then disappear to the far end of the ship. Wherever Lylla was, there was always maintenance or a personal project to work on as far away from her as possible. While never very far, it kept them from needing to deal with their disagreement.

The good news was the ship had never looked better. Rocket quickly used up the obvious projects like flickering lights and squeaky doors, moving on to scrubbing corrosion off the deck with the ship’s repair gun. Unfortunately his workbenches were in the common area and there was no way for Lylla to avoid him there so he made the best of it and moved the two padded beds he and the otter used out of Peter’s room and under the workbenches.

Peter found him standing there a day later, ears swiveled half way between confused and angry. Rocket was staring at the two little beds where they lay a couple of feet apart under the workbench.

“What’s going on, bud?” His hand wandered down to scratch the raccoon between the ears, but Rocket was too distracted to enjoy it.

“Nothin’,” he said, but he stood there staring suspiciously at the beds for a moment longer before hopping up on a tall stood and grabbing a welding stylus. He spent an hour finishing work he’d started earlier before heading down the hall.

Behind him a vine emerged from an air vent, quested back and forth as though looking for something, and then slid the two padded beds ever so slightly closer to each other before disappearing back the way it came.

Rocket found Lylla sitting with Mantis and said, “Stand up please,” without preamble. Then, “Try this on.”

Lylla took the bundle of green fabric from him and soon realized it was a belt and harness, custom-made for her long bendy torso. Three buckles on the left side let her slide in and click the thing on and the leather strapping across her back was so positioned that it didn’t ride over her shaved areas or implants. It came with a pouch on each side and and rings to clip on more and once she got it situated Rocket starting handing her things.

“This,” he said, “Is a wrist comm set for our frequencies. I know Pete’s been showing you around the cockpit, you oughta be able to use it no problem. These,” he said as he handed her two silver disks, “Are space suits. Drax can show you how to use ‘em. Everybody carries two, you understand? If yer awake, you have two space suits on you. One for you, one for someone else if they need it.”. He took a rectangular object from yet another pouch. “Aero rig. Lets you fly. Don’t play with it, someone’ll give ya training first chance we get. I’m only givin’ it to ya now for emergencies, and here,” he handed over a small pistol in a holster. “Stunner. Thirty second knockout, red button on the handle changes that to ten minutes. Fifty shots, spare battery in the holster. I figure you don’t want to hurt people, but you gotta have somethin’ if things go bad.”

“Okay,” Lylla said questioningly.

“One more thing,” Rocket said. “See all the snaps on the harness? I got flex-armor mostly made for you. It’ll snap right on when you have ta leave the ship. Helmet too, if you want it.”

As he turned to leave Lylla spoke up again. “Why, Rocket?”

Rocket shrugged. “No one is gettin’ killed because I didn’t make enough gear.” It wasn’t that far to the room at the end of the common area, and Lylla saw him stop to stare at something for a moment before continuing on. His newly made bed had a particular raspyness to the fabric so she knew what she was hearing when he curled up for a nap.

Gamora came in right at the end and stood admiring Lylla’s new harness. “Stunner?”

“Yes,” Lylla chirped. “Rocket made this for me. Well, maybe not the stunner, but the rest.”

“If he didn’t make the pistol he customized it,” Gamora said as she sat next to the otter. “Two settings, yes, short stun, long stun, this button toggles that. Do you have any training?”

“I was for linguistics,” Lylla chirped. “And diplomacy, but I only got the first dose of that.” She touched her head. “Direct learning feed. I saw the schedule, I was supposed to get diplomacy, then learn about poisons and assassination.”

Gamora nodded. “Those things all go together. I can train you on poisons.”

“I can teach you some diplomacy,” Mantis said. “It was one of my functions for my master. Peter does it too, but he is not so good at it.”

“I heard that,” Star-Lord said from the next room, and the three women smiled.

“Let me guess, he gave you this wrist comm,” Gamora said, “And probably two -”

“Space suits,” the otter chirped and pulled them out of a pouch. “He said I was to carry two at all times.”

Gamora showed her how the suit worked by putting on her own. “Just slap it on to a flat part of your body and it grows to cover you, see? Take it off by pressing the center stud. It won’t deactivate unless there’s breathable air. We have hard suits but the Milano only has two and they are too big for you anyway.”

“He gave me an aerorig too,” Lylla chirped, “But said someone will train me later.”

Drax wandered in, saw the small grouping and sat down. Crowds have a gravitational attraction all their own and soon Peter and Groot were sucked in as well.

“Do you have any combat training,” Drax rumbled.

“Only a little. How and where to bite, mostly.”

“Yes, you nearly killed Rocket that way. It was well done.”

“Drax!” That was Gamora, and “Dude!” from Peter.

“From a fighting standpoint,” Drax said unapologetically.

“I am Groot,” the thigh-high (except to Lylla) tree said.

“I was scared,” Lylla said. “I’d just seen him kill two men. I panicked when he pulled me out of the cage and he was covered in blood.”

“Rocket is not the neatest killer,” Gamora said. “But he is effective.”

“And he was wounded,” Peter said. “Some of that blood was probably his.”

“I was afraid,” the otter said. Like Rocket, her face was far more expressive than it had any right to be and she was feeling picked on and guilty. “I didn’t know he was there to help!”

“Shhh. No one’s blaming you,” Peter said, and Lylla relaxed as Mantis and Gamora jointly petted her. “Rocket was in a hurry. He had to get you out fast. When you are in a hurry, mistakes get made.” He shot Gamora a glance and she took the hint.

“Like when he was sorting his tools yesterday,” Gamora said. “He was saving time so he could examine you as soon as you woke up.”

“He had scalpels!” Lylla said, and shrank back into the chair. “And skin cutters, and a bone saw, and all the other tools.”

“He uses them on me,” Gamora said, and touched her face where her implants showed. “And on himself. On my sister, once. He is an expert at everything mechanical but he doesn’t always think when he’s dealing with people.”

“That’s for sure,” Peter said. “But, Lylla, this is what you need to know. Rocket would fight for us. He’s almost died for us at least three times. We’re his family now and he’ll kill to protect us. He makes us gear and insists everyone have two space suits at all times and he sets alarms and traps wherever we set down. He’s rude sometimes,”

“Often,” Drax rumbled.

“And he’s snapped at me when I pissed him off,”

“Which is easy to do,” Gamora added.

“He built armor into my clothing,” Mantis said, and touched what looked like perfectly ordinary fabric on her thigh.

“But Lylla, I’ve never seen him sleep next to someone the way he did with you. It took months before he’d even let us pet him.”

“His fur has a pleasing texture,” Drax mused, and stroked Lylla’s tail. “More so than yours.”

Peter shook his head at Drax. “Even though you bit him, he wanted you to be comfortable, to feel safe. Rocket won’t hurt you.”

Lylla nodded. Bit by bit the group broke up, Peter to check for bounties, Drax and Gamora to inventory stores, Mantis to sleep. Pretty much everyone promised Lylla some sort of training. It was just Groot and the otter when the two made their way to the common room where Rocket lay sleeping.

“I want to talk,” Lylla chirped, and sat down a pace away. “I know you are awake.”

Rocket lay unresponsive until a tendril prodded his shoulder. “I am Groot.”

“All right already,” the raccoon grumbled as he sat up. “Yeah, I was listening. Bald bodies are so loud it’s hard not to.”

“Who was the doctor you threatened yesterday?”

Rocket was taken aback. “You heard that? You were all the way downstairs!”

“Diplomat,” Lylla said, and touched her ear. “ 'Enhanced hearing, grade three.’ Very useful when people are tying to keep secrets. Also, poison resistant.”

“I was wondering why the gas didn’t do anything to you,” muttered Rocket, but she continued to stare. “Fine. That was the head of the project that made you Uplifts. He’s in jail but he’ll be out soon and I told him I’d personally hurt him if he starts work like that again. And I will. I was soft, if I’d been meaner going in more of you would have survived.”

“You’d kill to protect people you don’t even know?”

“Look, the galaxy is a dangerous place. You need to learn that. But when someone gets hurt who hasn’t done anything, it gets under my skin. If I find someone being treated the way you were, yeah, I’ll kill. I helped kill a whole planet to protect people I didn’t know. One a these days I’ll die doin’ it. But someone’s gotta stand up for the little guy. That’s what Guardians do.”

“I am Groot.”

“I know buddy.”

Lylla sat there thinking for a moment before she stood. Amongst the clutter of half-completed projects on the workbench were Rocket’s various tool bags, some open, some closed, and she grabbed one she recognized. She sat back down and opened the flap, exposing the handles of mostly custom-made cybernetics tools.

“You can do your examination now, Rocket. I know it’ll help if you send scans to your doctor friend before my appointment. One condition, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Everything you do, I want you to explain. Not because I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t know me well enough to trust me,” Rocket said. “Bein’ untrusting of strangers is a good thing.”

“I’m trying to learn. I’m a cyborg too, so explain what you’re doing as you do it, and maybe someday I can help someone else like me who needs it.”

“You got it.” Somewhere on the ship a song by someone called Lynyrd Skynyrd was playing, and Rocket hummed along as he started by selecting a shallow scanner. “See, cyborgs vary a lot, internally and externally, so unless it’s an emergency you start at the limbs, scan for servos and other components, then move toward the torso. You gotta figure out how someone’s built before you do any real work.”

Lylla nodded, drinking in the info, and if anyone noticed as Groot spouted out a silent tendril and pushed the two padded beds a little closer together, no one said anything.

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 6

Road Trip! Since the Elric’s need repairs (mostly Ed, since normally I think he could fix most anything with his Alchemy, but without his arm he can’t do it), they’re off to visit Winry. Let’s get started!

Narrator’s talking about how Scar went after Ed, and how our little baby was ready to accept death (cue heartbreaking shot of Al struggling to get up and stop him), but Colonel Roy Mustang intervened (or rather, Riza saved the Colonel's life and The Mighty Armstrong distracted Scar). The Elric Brothers realized the joy of being alive and were filled with Determination and decide to head home for a patch job. Episode 06: “Road of Hope” About time we had an optimistic episode, these last few have been depressing as all getout. Camera pans over a train-station (what, no [chugga chugga choo choo] caption? You disappoint me, show), Hughes raps on the window to Ed’s car to get his attention. The rest of Eastern Command were tied up with work, so the Lt. Colonel came by in their place. Ed’s grateful, but- YESSSSSSSSS! The post-credits didn’t lie, The Mighty Major Armstrong is indeed “sharing” a bench with Ed. And may I say that the man cleans up nice, that is a snazzy suit. Hughes says that The Mighty Armstrong’s there for protection, in case Scar comes after him again. Ed’s in no shape to fight, and hey that’s a nice touch, showing Ed’s empty sleeve wave around when he takes offense at being called a child. Speaking of, where’s the little brother? Oh. Oh my Leto. You stuck him in a box with the sheep?! Why?! Ok ok, maybe a half-wrecked suit of armor wouldn’t really fit in among the other passengers. But sticking him with livestock? Really? “I thought he might get lonely without a little company. *sparkle*” ...you are just the most peculiar mix of sense and cluelessness, aren’t you Armstrong? I mean, you’re not wrong, but still. Sheep, dude. One final salute between the three, and the train’s off. Away through the picturesque landscape we go, Armstrong reading while Ed takes a nap. The train makes a stop, Ed’s just starting to wake up when Armstrong notices someone walk by the train and crushes Ed in getting out the window. A Doctor Marcoh? Marcoh… does not look very happy to see Armstrong, goes sprinting away. Look, I know the guy can be a bit bombastic sometimes, that’s a bit of an overreaction. Armstrong says that he’s a talented State Alchemist from Central, who was researching into possible medical applications of Alchemy. But after the Ishvalan Civil War, he went missing? Like, he defected, or retired? Ed insists on disembarking, as a doctor might know some useful things about bio-alchemy. Fingers crossed it doesn’t end up like the last bio-alchemist they visited. The State Alchemists are in the city now, seems Armstrong’s the one carting around Al In A Box. They’re looking for Marcoh by showing a picture of the man, one that Armstrong drew? I’m as surprised as Ed that Armstrong’s such a good artist. Strong, a skilled Alchemist, reader, and now an artist? Is there nothing that The Mighty Armstrong cannot do? Ah, of course, “the art of portraiture has been passed down through the Armstrong family for generations.” The townsman they’re questioning says it looks like a Dr. Mauro to him. All the town’s previous doctors got drafted for the Civil War, but afterwards Dr. Mauro came. Further interviews with the townsfolk are all positive, about how he’ll see anyone and heal them with a big flash of light. Sounds like alchemy to me. Ed and Armstrong (and Al, he’s been pretty quiet so far) arrive at a house, Ed goes to knock on the door- What the Leto, dude?! Ed just opened the door, and Marcoh shot at him! He stands there with gun shaking, ranting that he won’t go back, that they’re here to silence him. Armstrong tries to calm him down. Then when that doesn’t work he flattens him with Al’s crate, to Ed’s displeasure. Now the four are sitting around a table, Armstrong’s talking about how when Marcoh left he took top-secret material with him. So he did defect? Marcoh says he couldn't handle it anymore, order or no order to “dirty his hands researching that thing”... What “thing”? Ed has the same question. The Philosopher’s Stone! Houston, we have confirmation that it exists! Marcoh took his research documents, and the stone itself. Does he have it?! Uh, dude? That’s a vial of liquid. You understand the difference between a solid and a liquid, right? Oh. OH. “The Sage’s Stone, The Grand Elixir. The Celestial Stone. The Red Tincture. The Fifth Element” The Stone is supposed to ‘create’ a liquid that grants eternal life, isn’t it? Along with the whole “lead into gold” thing. Nobody ever said that it was a solid, did they? Marcoh’s saying that just as the Stone has many names (Ed, don’t poke it! That’s a highly powerful substance!) it can take on many forms. But it’s not a complete product? Ah, so this liquid is an imperfect Stone, amplifying power but still having a limit. Like Cornello’s Stone, able to amplify his power but still fracturing in the end. Ed seizes on this knowledge, demanding access to the research materials. Marcoh is taken aback, and further shocked when Armstrong explains that his “child” is a State Alchemist. He tries to explain how many State Alchemists turned in their certifications after the War, and now a child… Ed insists that he has no choice, that if it’s a mistake then it’s a mistake that he has to make. Now the doctor’s examining Al, remarking how incredible it was that Ed could transmute Al’s soul. Maybe Ed does have the skills to produce a complete Stone. But still, Marcoh refuses to show his research and continue the Devil’s research. Not even Ed exclaiming that he’s already been through Hell can change the doc’s mind, who finally asks them to leave. Sad faces all around, the three SA’s walking away while Marcoh sits on a bed and thinks over Ed’s last words. At the train station waiting for their ride, Armstrong asks why Ed didn’t take the Stone from the doc, even if it was incomplete. Ed says he wanted it, but he and Al agree that they don’t want it badly enough to deprive the town of their only doctor. Aw, they’ve still got their empathy! And hey, we know now that it’s possible to make different forms of the Stone, the Elrics’ possibilities have expanded considerably. At least some good’s come out of this. And Armstrong’s not going to report back to Central? “I met a simple, small-town doctor today. I can’t see any real reason to report that.” Good for you, Armstrong! Oh hey, Marcoh’s here! And he’s handing over a map to his materials? This day keeps getting better! Doc wishes them luck, hoping that they will be able to restore their bodies. ...ok, what’s the catch? Way too much is going right for our characters. Is Marcoh secretly evil, setting up an ambush with the Goths? Did he already destroy his research out of guilt from the War? Will they find it, only to decipher a recipe for Ovaltine? What’s the catch? According to the note, the research is stored in the National Central Library. That’s not a bad place, one book in what I assume is a huge library would be difficult. But they have a clue now! Marcoh gets home, sighs- aw crap! Lust! I was kidding about a Goth ambush earlier, don’t tell me he actually is working for them! Well. I’m guessing this is the last we’ll see of the poor doctor. Sorry buddy! Now we’re at a familiar house, Automail sign out front. Granny, who I guess is actually Pinako based on the captions but I’ll keep calling Granny, calls for Winry who’s working away at a desk. At a mention of their “best customer”, Winry looks up. Outside, Ed and Al are greeting Granny, who just asks what they’ve done now. A common occurrence, this? Ed introduces the Major as- hey, the dog has an Automail left leg! That’s a neat touch! Armstrong’s shaking hands with Granny, then she steps back and remarks that it’s been a while, but Ed’s gone and grown- smaller. Hah! Still getting in the height jokes, eh Granny? But why would she say something so clearly untrue? Ed starts shouting-

Seems like Ed needs to work on the Five D’s. Here’s Winry! Yelling about how Ed’s supposed to call first when he’s heading back for maintenance. Hey Winry, looking good! Still got the aim from Episode 2 I see. She’s happy to see Ed again, even as Ed grouses about his head.

Uh oh, Winry is no longer happy when she sees the damage to her work. “A little smashed up” is a bit of an understatement, Ed. Winry is shaking in fury over her creation- wow, really Ed? “It’s basically the same; it’s just in smaller pieces.” Yeah, like you’ll be if you don’t stop antagonizing your mechanic, Ed! Winry gives that line the only response she can, and while Ed groans on the floor she asks Al how he’s doing, what trouble they’ve gotten into. Then she goes and kicks the Giant Suit of Armor in the helmet, sending Al down with Ed. Yeah, I gotta agree with you Armstrong. Best to sit quietly and drink your coffee. Granny’s checking Ed over, seems he needs adjustments to his leg too. Cue height teasing from Winry. But the arm’s busted, that’ll have to be built from scratch. Ed asks if it can be done in a week, Granny asks for him to give them some credit, says three days. Three days to build a new mechanical arm? I like this setting! Until then, Ed’ll make do with a spare leg. Winry gripes a little bit about this taking three all-nighters, but says since they need to get to Central ASAP she’ll work her butt off for them! (Aw, Ed’s blushing!) She does expect a fortune in rush order fees. Outside- well, Armstrong appears to subscribe to the Steve Rogers School of Log Splitting.

And we are treated to some magnificent shots of Armstrong at work as Al sits quietly, watching chickens. Taking the wood inside (come on Granny, turn around. You don’t know what you’re missing!), Armstrong asks where Ed’s hanging, seems he’s gone to visit Mama Elric. Shots of peaceful village music and shepherds waving to Ed, as Granny asks the Major what kind of lives the brothers are living. Aw, you guys don’t even send them letters? Come on, stay in better touch with the Rockbells! Armstrong remarks how Ed and Al are well known for their Alchemy, even in Central. And sometimes that gets them in trouble. But they’re strong boys, and Granny agrees. Awwww! It’s a picture of the Baby Blonds! Baby Winry’s dragging a surprised Al and begrudging Ed in for a picture, a smiling Mama Elric and stoic Granny behind them. That’s adorable. Granny goes on to explain to Armstrong that she’s been watching them ever since they were born, as a friend of the family. Their absent father was even a drinking pal of hers! But one day he “up and left the village, abandoning his wife and sons.” Why? Granny doesn’t even know if he’s still alive. (Mysterious Father continues to be Mysterious. And there’s the picture of the Elric family, the dad’s face covered up. Rude.) Then Armstrong asks about Winry’s parents. Ah, so this is how it was done in the manga? We know from Brotherhood’s second episode that they died in the war, but I guess this is when Armstrong learns as the audience surrogate. We do learn that they both were surgeons. Granny mentions that it’s time for supper, overrides Armstrong’s polite refusal by saying that food tastes better with guests, and adding one more person won’t be any inconvenience. Then Armstrong asks about the house that the Elrics grew up in. It’s gone, since- wait, they burned it down? “My guess is they did it because with no house to come home to, there could be no turning back.” Later that night, Ed gets back- GAH! Emotional Armstrong! Moved by the tale of the Elric Brothers, The Mighty Armstrong embraces the poor boy, who struggles to escape as Al, Granny, and Winry look on. “What unyielding love to try and bring your mother back to life! *sparkle* What a tremendous sacrifice to give up your arm in order to transmute your brother’s disembodied soul! *sparkle* What determination to burn down your own house…! To make sure… there was no retreat! *sparkle sparkle sparkle* Come Edward! *strip* Allow me to offer you this comforting embrace!” “Just stay back! Don’t rub your chest on me!” ...stay awesome, Armstrong. Next morning Ed stumbles out of bed to a buzzing sound, sees Winry working away at her table. Ed heads over and compliments her working so hard in the morning- “Been up all night.” Later, heads over saying she must be almost do- “One more all nighter.” Next day, Ed skulks up, looks around curiously until Winry gets fed up and tosses him out. Al, Ed, and Robo-Dog are all outside resting on the grass, Al counseling Ed to be patient while the older brother waves his arm and legs in frustration at knowing there’s a clue out there. Then winry comes out, new arm all ready to go! Inside, Ed’s grimacing while Winry and Granny count down, grits his teeth when the new limbs are attached. Guess it’s painful for the nerves to connect like that. Ed’ll be happy to kiss that pain goodbye when they get the Philosopher’s Stone, Granny says she’ll be sad to lose her biggest source of income. Meanwhile Winry… has an Armstrong Moment over the perfection of her automail. “Crazy gearhead.” “You’re lost without me, alchemy freak.” Mechanical Engineering versus Chemical Engineering! Fight! Ed does some flexes, as Winry talks about how she used a higher percentage of chrome to prevent rusting. Nice, functional and decorative! Although it won’t be quite as strong, so he shouldn’t do anything too crazy- too late Winry, he’s already out the door to fix Al. Armstrong’s asking if Ed can really fix Al right there, Ed says he can do it, but he has to be sure not to mess up the symbol inside the armor that binds Al to it. One hand-clap later, and the Giant Fanged Suit of Armor is good as new! The brothers have a little practice spar, and agree to leave for Central first thing the next day. That night, Ed’s snoring away on the couch, Al griping that he’s sleeping with his stomach out again. Granny jokes that Al’s the older one, to which he just says that someone has to look out for Ed. Winry brings a blanket over, and we get established ages of fourteen for Al and fifteen for Ed. Man, how long has Al been trapped in that armor? So much of his life, stuck in metal. Winry remarks that someone as young and small as Al… can be used as a human weapon. Winry, that’s not funny! That’s depressing! I thought I told you to be funny again, show! Now Al’s formally thanking Winry and Granny, always welcoming them like they’re really family. And Ed may not say it, but he feels the same way. “Granny… Winry… thank you.” Yup, right there with you, Armstrong. Right in the feels. Ed and Al are heading out now, Granny’s there to see them off. Winry’s not, since she’s stayed up three nights in a row. Now that’s dedication to your craft. The State Alchemists make to leave, Granny tells the boys to come back for dinner sometime, and Sleepy Winry waves goodbye from the balcony. Ed turns away and rubs his head before waving back. Say goodbye to Winry directly, you fool! Eh, whatever. I’ll badger him about my ship later. Credits! Aw, that was a sweet episode, nice respite from the downers of the last few. I mean, it wasn’t completely sunshine, I’m pretty sure that Marcoh won’t be making another appearance and we had to revisit the absence of Papa Elric and Winry’s parents. But overall, very nice. And you’ll never hear me complain about more Armstrong. Next time! Wait, nevermind. Back to Sleepy Winry walking down the stairs, complaining that she slept through almost the entire day and now she needs to clean up after human-tornado Ed. Then she finds a screw? “Whoopsy?” Uh oh. Don’t tell me Ed’s gonna lose his arm again next episode? You do realize he’s getting into combat, right? Or does she? I mean, they don’t tell the Rockbells what they’re up to. Now, Next time! “Doctor Marcoh’s notes on the Philosopher’s Stone were indeed in the place he said. But nothing is ever that easy. Unfortunately for the Elrics the Enemy is always one step ahead, leading the boys ever deeper into the maze of “truth within the truth.” Next time, on Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood-” Episode 07: “Hidden Truths.” “The only way to reach the destination is to never turn away.”

[captainpissofff]

Ugh that sweet mother of purple light it gives me life 💜

power nap in the safe room 

[spider-jaysart]

Awww so cute!!💗

power nap in the safe room