#built in cubby holes

[manyaktranslations]

Flat Panel in Orlando Inspiration for a large modern gender-neutral painted wood floor and white floor dressing room remodel with flat-panel cabinets and white cabinets

[scottstilson]

Traditional Wine Cellar in Miami a sizable, attractive image of a wine cellar with display racks

[aplaceonthisworld]

Traditional Closet - Open Dressing room: large traditional dressing room idea with open cabinets and medium-tone wood cabinets that is gender-neutral in color.

[uniqueswift]

Transitional Closet in New York Dressing room - huge transitional gender-neutral medium tone wood floor and brown floor dressing room idea with recessed-panel cabinets and medium tone wood cabinets

[fostersgifs]

Laundry - Multiuse Image of a medium-sized transitional galley with a limestone floor that features stacked washers and dryers and shaker cabinets as well as white cabinets, granite countertops, and beige walls.

[kaisaccofilm]

Traditional Wine Cellar in Miami a sizable, attractive image of a wine cellar with display racks

[latinx-lancaster]

Closet in Philadelphia Example of a large, traditional, medium-tone wood floor walk-in closet with shaker cabinets and white cabinets that is gender-neutral.

[skinmerchant]

Jacksonville Walk-In Closet Walk-in closet - mid-sized transitional men's carpeted walk-in closet idea with open cabinets and medium tone wood cabinets

[hello-samo]

Mudroom - Mudroom Inspiration for a huge modern concrete floor and gray floor entryway remodel with white walls and a glass front door

[ledaatomica]

Modern Home Gym - Multiuse Inspiration for a huge modern multiuse home gym remodel with beige walls

[theotherbuckley]

This is payback for the 40 something sentences btw

👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼👧🏼🚁🚁🚁🚁🚁🚁😘😘😘😘

I brought this upon myself.... i have many regrets.

👧🏼 - dad!buck teacher!tommy (bucktommy)

“Daddy’s coming?” Bella asks, looking up at Buck with the biggest puppy eyes.  “Not today, baby, you’re at big school now!” He replies, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Come on! I’ll show you where your class is,” Christopher says enthusiastically, offering up a simple wave to Carla before he starts walking towards the classrooms, looking back towards Bella when he realises she’s not following. “Daddy has to come,” she begs, grasping on to Buck’s leg and holding on for dear life.  Buck honestly didn’t expect Bella to cry when he went to leave — frankly, he thought he’d be the one crying, watching his girl all grown up. Bella was never really the shy kid, always happy to meet new people and do new things. She could talk to strangers for hours about the most outlandish things. The other week they were at the zoo with the Diaz’s and Bella had walked up to the zookeeper, asking 100 different questions about sea otters which had become Bella’s latest hyperfixation for about a week. Buck had watched her talking away, smiling fondly. He had turned to Eddie shaking his head saying he didn’t know where she got it from to wish Eddie gave him a very pointed look and said, “Seriously?” So apparently ADHD is hereditary.  Point is, he didn’t really plan on Bella clinging to him the way she was now, and he didn’t know what to do. He’d do anything for his daughter, and watching her look up at him as she clung to his pant leg, made his heart break. He was helpless to do anything but walk up to her classroom with her.  They followed Christopher into the school, taking twists and turns that had Buck worrying how he was going to get out of this maze when he left. Chris finally stopped at the door of a class that had a bright pink number 5 cut out stuck to the door.  “Are we absolutely sure this is room five?” Buck joked upon seeing the sign. Bella looked up at him, hand still gripped tightly to Buck’s and said, “Yeah, Daddy, see! Number five!” she said, pointing to the door. They’d been practising number’s recently, Bella already surpassing Buck’s mental arithmetic ability by being able to add 5 and 7 — Buck still had to use his fingers. She definitely inherited her mother’s ability for math.  A second bell rang loudly in the hall, causing Bella to jump slightly in his hold. He squeezes her hand gently a few times to comfort her before looking towards Chris who still needed to get to his room. “See you later, Bella!” Christopher says, turning to walk down the hall towards his own class. “Come on, Bellie,” Buck said, guiding Bella into the class. There were about 10 other children sat at desks in the class, a few still with their parents which made Buck feel better about coming into the room with his daughter — not that he would leave anyway, not until he knew his daughter was happy. Noticing some cubby holes at the back of the class, Buck ushered Bella towards them to put her bag down.  Distracted by getting Bella into the desk that had her name on it, and getting her settled, Buck never stopped to look at the front of the class towards the teacher. When Bella had finally let go of his had, now apparently forgetting his existence and chatting very enthusiastically to a boy sat beside her, Buck looked up to see Bella’s teacher drawing in big letters on the whiteboard.  Buck has no idea how he missed him walking in because the man was huge. Buck thought his arms were huge as a firefighter but holy shit… apparently being a teacher makes you built like a fucking tank. The man was writing in curly letters on the board, spelling out “Mr. Kinard”. Once he’d finished he turned to face the room. Buck instantly noticed his deep blue eyes and the cleft of his chin that painted a very lovely picture for him to look at. The man caught his eye for a moment and smiled, the corners of his eyes and nose scrunching with smile lines that Buck felt completely normal about.  Buck had to clamp his mouth shut when he realised that he’d been staring, slack jawed at the objectively very handsome teacher.

🚁 - helicopter crash s8 (bucktommy)

The siren blares loudly above his head, some suburban house fire or something. Buck only half registers it, still stuck staring at the screen in front of him. He’s distantly aware of Eddie calling for him but he just can’t right now. He can’t. Captain Gerrard moves in front of the TV, forcing Buck to snap out of his gaze. “Get a fucking move on, Buckley,” he practically spits. Buck moves mechanically, forcing himself out of his chair and following his captain down towards the fire engines.  “Can I— Can I be man behind this time?” Buck says, his voice sounding small to his own ears.  “No,” Gerrard replies simply, not even turning to look back at him.  Johnson had been the man behind all day, apparently in punishment for failing to adequately wash the fire engine. Buck knew that the real reason was because Gerrard caught his boyfriend dropping him off in the morning.  “Please,” Buck says again, hating the way his voice breaks in the middle. He can’t focus right now — he’d be useless as a firefighter at the scene. It would be safer for everyone if he stayed back. Please— “Get in the truck,” Gerrard shouts at him. 

😘 - pet names 10+1 (bucktommy)

Buck swallows. “What-whatever do you mean, sweetums?” Buck says, before wincing immediately. “Okay, okay,” Buck relents, “I’m trying out pet names. And they’re not going great, especially not sweetums.” Buck cringes again. “But, I will come up with a good one. Just you wait.” Tommy’s expression turns fond as he stares at Buck with the cutest look Buck thinks a man could possibly make. “Baby, you don’t have to give me a pet name. Tommy’s fine,” Tommy says sincerely. “Besides,” Tommy says, lips quirking up at the edges. “I kinda like hearing you moan my name.” Buck trips through the door.

[quotespile]

People are built like houses inside — they have stairwells, spacious halls, vestibules that are always too weakly lit to count the doors into the rooms, row upon row of apartments, damp chambers, slimy, tiled bathrooms with cast-iron baths, steps with handrails taut as veins, artery-like corridors, joint-like landings, passages, guest rooms, draughty chambers into which a sudden current of warm air flows, closets, twists and turns and cubby-holes, and larders full of forgotten supplies.

Olga Tokarczuk, House of Day, House of Night

[wannaeatramyeon]

Vin Jin x Reader: Playgrounds

G/N. Very soft.

Outside convenience stores, parking lots, shady alleys.

All hangouts of choice for Vin back in Cheonliang. Sometimes Mary would join, sometimes it would just be the rest of his crew.

Typical choices for a group of ill-mannered and ill-intentioned teens frightening the life out of upstanding citizens and productive members of society.

Parks and playgrounds only became a meeting place in Seoul. Somewhere quieter at night for Vin and Mary to talk undisturbed.

Eventually two expanded to three when you joined. Laughing, bantering, messing around until eventually the sun breaks over the horizon, signalling you all should have gone home hours ago.

Occasionally it was still two. Frequently it's just one. Vin sitting on a swing, a single figure under artificial lights and lost in his thoughts.

Playgrounds in Cheonliang only hold bad memories for him. Back when he was still a child. Before he became feared, before he had his strength.

Where other kids said they would play with him, and Vin learned that play isn't the same for everyone.

Where they would use their punches and kicks as he curls up, cupping his head and protecting himself, and shouts of 'monster' ringing in the air.

He never visited the playground again. Not even once he was the one capable of striking terror and fear into the hearts of others.

It's a trauma he hasn't been able to overcome. Shoved away and hid in a lockbox, shielded with barbs and spikes like all his other insecurities.

Maybe that was where he first learned about cruelty, on a playground that was built for joy.

He's never told anyone this, not even Mary, although he's sure she knows or at least has some inkling.

But when it's just him, swinging softly in the cool night breeze, all he can do is dust off the lockbox and dwell.

.

.

New memories are constantly made.

And maybe it does a little to erase some of the hurt of the past. Or at least make a small dent.

Vin likes this swing in particular, the one he always sits on. When he sits in darkness for too long, for even the streetlight to pierce, he thinks about the first time he felt the gentle shove from someone else, taking him higher through the air.

A little push to cut through the memories.

That day, his usual mask slipped for the first time in front of you. Face lit up and you giggled at his joy.

He didn't mind. It wasn't mocking. It was kind of... nice.

Under the climbing frame only a few steps away, in the cubby hole half hidden by the slide.

You and Vin had squeezed yourselves in after one too many beers. An apology in the form of six stolen cans, handed over by Mary for not being able to join you both.

That was when he kissed you for the first time. Both drunk and feeling a particular way that evening.

Vin smiles when he recalls you were actually the one that kissed him. Lips crashing to his, rough and bruising. A little sloppy, a little messy.

And your grin when you pulled apart. Slightly swaying. You were both drunk on beer and something else.

That memory sits alongside the one, where after the other kids got bored and left, Vin sat on a climbing frame similar to this and cried.

On the shady patch of grass on the far side, he remembers you both lying side by side in the early hours one morning.

Lamps too far away for any illuminance to reach. It was by design that he revealed his eyes to you there.

Hoping that perhaps the darkness would help to mask how he really looked. That the lack of light meant you couldn't see and he wasn't revealing any vulnerabilities.

Your hand reached up to cup his cheek as he tried to stop himself from flinching, his bare eyes not meeting yours.

You told him it was sexy, and he snorted incredulously. Mind flooding with relief that his worst fears haven't been realised. That they never would with you.

In the darkness, you both shared your second kiss.

You saw Vin and didn't call him a monster. Instead, on this playground in Seoul, he called you his.

[chronicallyblogged]

I've built a fort in my room. That way I can be in the nice insulated portion of the house and with a TV instead of the mudroom. I took my file cabinet out to make space. It can go down in the base ment. Then I rearranged some furniture. Since my room is so small (whole home is only 816 square ft) all the furniture is close together. Which means I could drape some old curtains from past living places across my bed shelves and bookshelf. I used a small purple one in the back as the "house" and a sheer one with leaves on it in the front for the "yard". Then I put my cow skin rug, body pillow, and chair pillow in the fort. It's very comfortable. It also faces the TV and is right by the cubes in the cube shelf that have the young parts stuff.

I remembered in therapy that I would make what my parents would call "cubby holes" out of lots of things. Blankets, closets furniture, etc. And if I was outside which was often I would find overgrown trees or shrubs and burrow in those. As I got older i expanded to other rooms like the mudroom or bathrooms. I also had a loft bed for a long time and the small cubby of the bed sorta acted as one. My therapist thinks i may have started it as an alternative to being held and that it carries that sensation. I'm not sure if I did it for that or not bc I was really young when I started. But these spaces do feel safe

[mandareeboo]

What. Why. When was this built. That's literally a cubby hole. When was the letter put in it.

[cevans-is-classic]

Chapter Two: Old Friends

Catch the beginning of their journey here: Galaxy Eyes.

Chapter One: Lost Stars

Lights flashed overhead, blinking on and off as smoke filled the hallway. He hears screams in the distance, several voices mingling together. He needs to single out one, hoping to let it lead him towards the owner. The hallway was long, his feet rushing to catch up with the length of it. The screams were getting louder, longer. He could hear the pleading in the surrounding voices.

“You can’t run!” a deep voiced echoed around him, “No matter where you go I will find you! All of you. Traitors.” The voice was growing deeper, spreading down the hall. Footfalls sounded in the distance. Grogu followed the noise, keeping himself focused on his surroundings.

“STOP!”

A streak of white ran past him. Grogu turned to follow it but stopped when another rush of color followed.

“Go!” Blood was dripping from the followers’ fingers. “Now! Go.”

The streak of white turned around and Grogu stopped in his tracks.

Mata.

-

It'd took an hour before Grogu relaxed and took a deep breath in. Bo watched his hands rest on his knee. She stayed quiet so as not to disturb the child.

When one of Grogu's hands moved to touch something before him, Bo knew he was under.

“I'll leave you to it, little guy.” She spoke to him in a calm voice rising from her seat. The solid thud of her boots hitting the floor of the ship made her wince. She turned back to check on Grogu. He was still sitting with his eyes closed and hand in the air.

Good.

Bo stepped off the ship and blocked the blue light beamed down on her. Dank Ferrick, this place is miserable — humidity clogged her throat and stuck to the skin of her cheeks.

She took a deep breath, ignoring the cough that burned in her throat. There didn't seem to be any threats around them, and the clearing there was quiet.

She checked the sides of the ship coming back inside to double check supplies.

A slip of purple made her freeze.

It's silky when she touches it and it smells like sooner bean flower. The floral, sweet scent made her think of nights curled up on her father's lap. The sounds of Mandalore below their home and the warmth she felt in her home.

Bo wanted to bury herself in the fabric, but pulled back instead. It's a wrap, at least a slip of one. It wrapped around her palm twice the purple color shifting under the light. She could feel the coolness of the fabric through her gloves.

This is yours

Bo sat it back on the shelf and closed the door.

There's two cubbies on the ship, a small one with a cramped pallet on the floor and a blanket shoved into the corner. This must be Din Djarin’s cubbie.

This is not where he sleeps.

The larger space had a pallet big enough for two with a green hammock hanging above them. One blanket hung off the pallet, with two pillows wrinkled on top of each other.

There's a shelf built into the corner and Bo saw the mix of coverings.

She smiled.

She closed the hatch, making sure it locked in place then moved back towards the hull.

Grogu was still sitting with his eyes closed.

Bo took another deep breath in when sat back down next to the child.

“You better be okay, trouble.” She whispered to the stars.

-

The sun was midway through the sky when they emerged from a throng of trees to see a rock formation with a door.

Also, someone in red coverings standing at the mouth of it. Their arms crossed and from here he can see the way their hands bunched into fists.

Djarin slowed his steps. The person looked familiar, the familiar way they held themselves steady. A dark swatch of hair sparking something inside his memory..

The med droid stopped when the person walked out of the hole and came towards Djarin.

“Mandalorian.”

He looked her over. “Re.” It’s the woman from the festival. The one you took off to talk to. It tickled the back of his brain, thinking of the interaction.

“My name is Ritu. Might as well know it now. Did Gal visit you as well?”

“It seems.”

“I wasn’t sure what they were talking about the first time they dreamed of you. They talked about a man in shining armor — I always told them it’s not a fairy tale from the galaxy’s past. They would smile, through all the pain, the long nights, Nightmares tearing them from their sleep — they smiled because they saw, well, they saw you.”

Djarin didn’t know how to reply.

You’d told him about the dreams of him and Grogu. He’d lay awake at night wondering how long you’d had visions of them — if you saw him saving Grogu before he knew it himself. Did you know about his future? His path?

There were a million and one questions running through his mind, racing each other to see who can get to the finish line.

If he’d ask any of the questions swimming in his mind, would he get answers? Actual answers?

How many times did you see his face in a way Noone else ever could?

You told him time and time again that you saw him past the beskar — that you saw him with different names and identities. Living lives he’d never imagined and not once did you make him question his creed.

With a shake of his head he focused On Ritu once more “Is this the part where you explain who you are?”

“It seems.” She parroted back to him before turning on her heel and stepping back into the enclosure. Djarin waited for a beat, then followed her. Lights lined the ceiling twisted into embedded roots.

It was colder inside, the crisp air filling his lungs and cooling off his body. He took a moment to close his eyes in relief. Ritu was sitting down at an odd shaped table, two chairs sat opposite of each other. When Djarin stayed where he was, the woman rolled her eyes and motioned to the chair, “Might as well sit, Mandalorian.”

Something about the way she said Mandalorian made his stomach clench.

It sounded like you.

Djarin sat.

Ritu looked up, the ceiling made of tangled roots. A few droplets of water dripped onto the stone floor. “I used to be an imperial officer.” She dropped her chin. “I’d been rallied into the imperial forces when a rebel killed my Father. I believed they were monsters and wanted people to be harmed for a war that shouldn’t exist. When they assigned me to Amadeus’s, I went.”

She went quiet and looked back up at the rooted ceiling. “Then the order came.”

Djarin balked. The order. When the clones turned on the Jedi and killed the future padawans.

“Their-”

He didn’t know what to say after that.

Amadeus.

He’d heard the name before. Heard you whisper it in your sleep or mention in a passing way, “He’s the one they needed protection from.” It came out in a whisper, but it brought Ritu’s gaze to him.

There’s something else that is dragging through his mind.

Amadeus?

He clicked his tongue, “What can you tell me about him?”

“Amadeus? I can tell you he’s a piece of work. His father was on the ground when The Order went into action. There was a mark on Gal’s family. I believe — and this isn’t a solid fact — that Gal had an older sibling who was a padawan as well, if the records are correct; Amadeus and his men brought families in. They used children who — they — it was awful.” Ritu’s voice trailed off.

Djarin felt his blood turn to ice.

With a heavy breath, Ritu looked at him. Gal was one of the few to survive the experiments — they developed an attachment to their handlers. When Amedaus recognized this, he used it to his advantage."

“Their brother.” You mentioned him in passing, leaving him confused but unwilling to ask more.

“Brother is a strong word.” She frowned, “I — when I learned there was a cease and a desist on the program — I knew they were going to kill them. Kill all of them. I couldn’t let that happen so me and Ashha-”

“Ashha?” He echoed.

Ritu nodded. “That’s how they became a medic. When the cease and desist came through both of us knew what was going to happen. Gal — Gal was the only one we got out.”

“You and Ashha?”

“Gal helped.” A twitch of a smile pulled their lips up.

He took this in. “What else can you tell me? Do you know if he’s the one who took them?”

Ritu considered his question for a moment. “I’ve kept tabs on Amadeus as much as I kept tabs on Gal. When Ashha said she was going to Nevarro to keep an eye, well, I visited from time to time. When I heard he found their location? — I had to warn Gal somehow, and I knew they’d see me coming.”

“The Atlas Rising festival.”

Ritu nodded again. "Before we got them out, they made me promise not to come looking for them." Her dark eyes swept across the leaking ceiling, lip caught between her teeth. "They knew I wouldn't keep that promise."

"Gal asked me to stay-" He squeezed his hands into fists, feeling Grogu squirm in his lap, "They asked me to stay and I told them we'd be back by morning."

You'd lifted on your tiptoes — pressed your lips to his helmet and smiled. There were tears in your eyes and he almost said yes, almost walked back to the house, didn't fly, didn't take the job.

Almost.

“How are you meant to help us?” It came out clipped. Ice coated his tongue and the taste of it make his throat burn.

Ritu looked at him for several Moments then rose. She walked around the table to a trunk. Every surface covered in scratches the off blue color closer to a gray hue.

She moved the trunk closer to him, unlocking it and opening the seal. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't clothing.

"These were what they had Gal in." Ritu pulled a white tunic out, blood staining the collar. “Each set has a DNA encrypted chip along the collar. It helps them keep track of their progress, vital signs and, of course the location. They needed to make sure nothing interfered with the testing. It — that flaw in our plan is how they found Gal the first time-'' Ritu stumbled. She sat the tunic on the table and Djarin saw the tear, and a port indention for a chip.

Ritu continued, "They took it out and swallowed it. We tried to stop them, but they said as long as it's moving — we're safe."

"The bounty hunters-"

"The last place Gal stayed in before we got them to you was here. This place makes it difficult to track anything. No signal can get past the atmosphere — it's the perfect place to hide."

"In the middle of an imperial base camp?"

"The middle of a hidden Imperial Basecamp that should have burned down fifteen years ago. The people here? They don't talk. When the bounty for them finished-"

Djarin nodded, “When Grogu and I signed them over.”

Ritu nodded back. “The only thing left to do was get rid of their biological fingerprint.” She flipped the tunic inside out, a half-stitched numerical code ran along the cuff,

He remembered your sleep ramblings, your moments of disassociation as Ashha would lean over you with a light. You weren’t stating points you’d seen in your dreams — you knew her.

“Why didn’t they tell me about this?”

A strangled smile crawled across Ritu’s face. They didn’t want you to know. Said it wasn’t safe and Gal-”

“Gal is never wrong.”

A melancholy feeling swept over the room. Djarin stared at the bloodied collar, reaching out to trace the seam near the arm. You had a scar there. He only noticed it when he’d helped clean you up after your sickness.

You said you couldn’t remember how you got it.

Djarin said it looked like a blade mark.

“Agree to disagree, Din Djarin. I’ve seen Gal be wrong before — let’s hope now is one of those times.”

He had to save you.

“Gal, led me here. They showed up in my dreams and said there was someone here who could help us. Is that you?”

Ritu didn’t answer.

He gritted his teeth, “If you care about them-”

“Don’t!” Anger burst forth, rage burning in her eyes as her lip curled, and she leaned close to him. “I was there for Gal every chance I could be. I protected them.”

“Of course you did.” The fury he knew how to handle.

Ritu stiffened, “If they sent you here it’s for a reason and if that reason means saving them? Nothing Is going to stop me, Mandalorian.”

“Good.” He rose. “Then show me where to go next.”

Ritu held up a hand to stop him. “I need to meet with Ashha.”

Djarin waited for a beat. “Where is she heading?”

"To find the moon port Amadeus's base is located. It's just outside of the outer rim, but it's uncharted. I can send you the jump location when we find it." Ritu was on her feet before the sentence finished, moving to the side of the room and shuffling through the box she extracted the tunic from.

Djarin watched as she took out an Imperial officer suit, the symbol shiny and bright despite the color reflected in the light.

He felt his eye twitch, but stayed silent. You trusted her. He needs to trust her.

"Alright." She loaded a blaster, strapped it to her leg, and tossed the uniform over her shoulder. "Let's go."

-

Djarin peeked behind Bo-Katan to peer into the hull.

“He’s napping.”

“Did he?”

“I’m not sure. He stayed in the meditation state for close to an hour, then just fell asleep. I woke him up long enough to make sure he was okay then out like a light.” Bo-Katan’s gaze landed on Ritu.

Djarin stepped forward To angle himself between them, “This Is the friend Gal sent us to find. Ritu.” He tipped his helmet, “She helped Gal escape.”

“Your name sounds familiar.” Bo-Katan raised her nose.

Ritu nodded, “It should. I was an imperial officer.”

Bo-Katan tenses, her hand lifting, but Djarin stops her. “She’s the one who helped Gal escape the first time. She’s who they sent me to find? He motioned to her. “Gal sent me to find her because noone else knows them better.”

“Yeah?” Bo-Katan straightened.

Ritu met her gaze, holding it steady, and the glint in her eye seemed familiar uncannily. “You helped Gal the first time?”

She dropped her chin in greeting, “I had help and that help is waiting for me to meet them.”

“What are we doing?” She aimed her words at Din Djarin.

“Ritu is meeting Ashha with our end of the tracker. They find the last location and meet up with them. We need to keep attempting to contact.” He whispered an afterthought

Bo- Katan frowned, “I don’t like that plan. I’m sorry, but we don’t know you and we’re supposed to trust that you’ll help us find Gal?” She stepped forward, hand moving to her waist as Ritu took a step back to avoid being bumped by Din Djarin’s shoulder.

“I assure, Bo- Katan Kryze, finding Gal is the only thing I care about. Finding them, getting them back to their home and to you. The closest thing to a second thought is that we take down the entire program and burn it to the ground.” The woman looked up at Bo Katan for a beat longer.

Din Djarin shook his head, moving around his friend to go check on Grogu. “Where do you want to start?’

Ritu and Be-Katan stared each other down until Bo-Katan’s posture relaxed and her hand fell away from her blaster. “Alright.”

“I heard a rumor about a trader that might have some information. Xe went straight after the death star, or that’s what xe tosses around. Still crooked, though. He makes deals under the table — the rumors say he picked up a med ship, but it didn’t make it to the ports.” Ritu took a breath.

“A rumor?” Bo raised a brow.

Djarin frowned, “Glumbus,” He spoke up, “Moodite.”

“Ah, you’ve heard of Xim.”

“You hear a lot of names when you go underground.”

Bo-Katan waved her hand to Get their attention, “Do we know where this Moodite is?”

“I have an idea-”

Between one breath and the next The hull disappeared, Bo-Katan and Ritu’s voice fading into nothing.

A pull in his stomach made him step further into the ship, each footfall growing quieter than silent all together.

Pure silence.

The roar of the jets, the hum of radiators, the dozens of beeps and clicks that remind you the ship works.

Gone.

It was deafening.

He turned towards the bunks, moving his hand towards his hip to reach for his blaster, and paused.

The touch of fabric across his calloused hands there’s a metal bump that digs into his thumb. This isn’t right.

Djarin looks down and sees coverings he’s never seen before. Thick blue material with torn fabric around his knees and his pelvis. A squared patterned shirt in a dark blue color, the white covering beneath was familiar. It was still him.

He wasn’t wearing his helmet.

“Patu.” Grogu called.

Djarin bolted into their cubby, throwing the door open with a silent clang. Grogu was curled up in the middle of the bed, his forehead touching his knees. Djarin reached out to touch him when a scream ripped through the air.

They weren’t on the ship anymore.

Djarin had both knees on the bed and his hand reaching when his surroundings sank in. The room was an off-white color with shadows stretching from the people huddled around to the corners of the room. He couldn’t see past the shadows of people, their shoulders hunched over and hands disappearing into the darkness.

Another scream, louder, closer, the end coming to a hiccup that Djarin would know anywhere.

Time slowed as he took off running, his hands grabbing onto the walls, pipes, and an exposed metal panel to swing his way toward the screaming. He felt weightless the closer he got and realized he’d never left the bed. All the frantic scrambling hadn’t happened.

What?

The bed was moving, following the eerie sound of sobs that pooled into whimpering choked gasps of air. Djarin heard the terror, the fear, the noise getting louder as the bed moved them forward. When the sobbing surrounded them, thundering the walls, he turned to look at Grogu — who was still curled up in sleep.

“Grogu.” He touched his son’s shoulder, and he jumped, eyes flying open to look up at Djarin. He reached one green hand up to touch his cheeks but stopped when the sobbing turned into screaming. Their surroundings shimmered, going wavy and splitting apart — that’s when he saw you.

Your hand lay off the bed, head fallen to the side as blood covered your chest the nodules glued to your temples tugging at your skin. They’d shaved your head, leaving scratches behind covered by more wires.

Djarin tried to run towards you, his blaster in hand; ready to fight the universe to get you back home when your eyes flashed open.

“NO!” you screamed. The movement sending him flying backwards, hitting the wall of the cubby. The clang of his helmet made a dangerous sound as he came back to the here and now. Grogu was awake, curled up in his lap, holding tight to his belt.

“What-”

He looked around the cubbie, eyes tracking the wall, landing on the pallet beneath him and the shelf of clothes across from him. They were — well they were on the ship instead of — he looked down at Grogu. The little guy was asleep already, his fingers still curled around Djarin's belt.

“Sorry kid, I gotta go talk to Bo-Katan.” Grogu didn’t stir when he lifted him into his swing, tucking him next to his blanket before exiting the cubby. The ship was moving.

“Bo-Katan?”

“Din Djarin!” She answered him back. Djarin nodded to reassure himself then took off for the cockpit. There she was, her redhead smooth with her helmet sitting beside her. Looking at it made him feel uneasy. It made him think about The Armorer telling him he’d become excommunicated and no longer Mando’a. There were a few moments in his life where he felt genuine fear and knowing he’d lost his creed, and his family all in one. The yawing pit in his stomach became too much sometimes that he’d find the nearest secluded place, remove his helmet, and scream.

That empty helmet reminds him of what it felt like to lose everything you loved.

“I didn’t want to bother you and the kid, so I talked with Ritu and she gave me the full rundown. What happened to Gal-” She shook her head, “Ritu gave us jump coordinates of where the Moodite is hiding out.”

He nodded. “I’ll take over you. Go ahead. Get some rest.”

“Din Djarin-”

“Thank you, Lady Kryze. Get some rest and I’ll wake you when we arrive.” Bo rose, standing before him until he could see his reflection in the pupils of her eyes.

“Thank you.” She grabbed her helmet and stepped around him.

Djarin sank into the seat and focused on the stars.

-

The small blue Moodite tried to come at Bo with a fishing hook but missed a step and slipped off the table. Djarin didn’t hesitate to grab him by the scruff and drag him towards the back of the bar. He shouted at Bo before disappearing into the back and hearing several people scream.

“I’a don’na want nothun you tryan to do witha me.” The smaller species grumbled.

“Stay quiet.” Djarin shoved at the xim until xe hit the table again and tumbled over. He caught xem by the scruff and swung xim into that table, once again letting go so xir’s head will bounce off the wood. Glumbus scrambled to stand up straight only to freeze in place. Xe sighed and looked up at the two Mandalorians.

A trickle of green blood dripped down xir’s nose.

“I’a dun’a know nothun.”

“Yeah,” Djarin stood in front of xem, “Why’d you fight?”

“Uh. Mandalo’in come in, two uh, I run. I don’na want nothun.” Xir ears twitched.

Djarin held back a sigh, “Glumbus you’re wanted for spice running and you owe Collum money. You obviously have something to do with something.”

The blue skin turned purple. Djarin smirked.

“Toka toka,” Xe leaned back, “What da wunna?”

He felt Bo-Katan step up, hovering behind Djarin. “I heard you tried to go straight but didn’t quite keep it up.” He stepped closer and Xe raised xir hands in panic.

“I’a dun’a whata mean?”

Bo moved forward, “Seems you got hired to move a few cargo ships, but not all of those ships got to their locations. In fact, some of those ships traded for a few credits. Maybe a favor or two?”

Xir skin darkened into a violet purple, eyes flickering Around the room with fearful hesitation. Djarin Watched Xir’s eyes waiting for action, vibrating beneath his skin.

The Moodite seemed to slump in defeat, “No madda what I’a dead.” Xe looked around for the chair xe threw. It wobbled a little but seemed safe enough to for Glumbus to plop onto it.

Djarin rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“You were transporting a med ship and an out of commission one.”

“Uh-”

“I bet if we looked at your logs plenty of forged numbers will fill the blank spaces, maybe, some fake names? Huh, Glumbus.” It wasn’t a question. Djarin crossed his arms and waited.

Glumbus’ purple complexion darkened until it was nearly black.

Xe swallowed with a gulp, “I’a was off’a’d more — uh a com-pen-station.” The words dragged out xim, the darting of Glumbus tongue tripping over them. Xe swallowed again and looked away.

“and?” Bo-Katan tapped her blaster.

Xe looked up in fear, “I’a didna know the persa. I’a was giv’n message by st’ange persa” The darkness faded a bit.

“Where’d you deliver it?”

Glumbus shook xir head. “Klando eck modsa neyh.”

Djarin kicked the table.

Glumbus jumped, “I’a don’a know name.”

“Okay.” Djarin nodded and then moved forward to grip the Moodite by the neck of Xir jumper. He lifted Xim up so he could slam Xim into the tabletop – once again. “What about now, Glumbus.” He pressed his fists into Xir’s neck.

Glumbus gurgled, “Co-or- ack, ack, di-nates only.”

Djarin let go and Bo moved to stand beside him. Xe stayed laying on the table xirs hand cradling Xirs throat.

“Was that so hard? Give us the coordinates.”

Glumbus glared.

-

Ashha remembered the first time she cared for you. The needles left enlarged bruises across Your body. At times when she cleaned up the wounds before closing Them with bacta — she felt uncertain of the path she was on.

She watched you grow up. The smile that lingered on your lips disappeared week by week. Some days they kept you in the lab for hours. You’d crawl into your bunk and fall asleep for hours.

Ashha remembers the first time she saw your eyes.

The deep depth starting Out near black, the pupils blending with the surrounding color. It was surreal — uncanny.

When the star appeared in the depths of the darkness, purple bleeding into the iris. That’s when Ashha knew you were different. What was happening to you? Was not what she thought was going on.

Ashha paid attention after that. She noticed when some patients would go for ‘treatment’ and come back differently — or not come back at all. She looked deeper, dove further until she found the truth of the experiments.

That’s when she realized what was happening to you.

The force inside you being morphed into a weapon.

She also remembers the first vision you whispered about. How many nights you’d wake screaming or crying out a stranger’s name?

That’s how she met Ritu. Both of them grow attached to you with each drain of your force after the next.

They’d beaten you into nothing, yet a small glimmer of hope swirled In your eyes.

The beep of her comms pulled her from the memories and back to the jarring reality

Dank Ferrick, did they catch her signal?

Holding back another curse, she allowed the communication to come through.

Ritu looked at her.

“I’ve met the Mandalorian again in search of Gal.” She looked over her shoulder. “I sent them after Glumbus in hope they could get something out of Xim. I’m coming your way, old friend. We’re going to end all of this now.”

The projection fell away.

Ashha remembers feeling your blood slicking their fingers.

“All of it.” She mutters.

Pedro Pascal

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