#everyone say good job Nima

[spindle-and-nima]

Nima was very brave today and didn't run away when I pet spindle who was loafed right next to her

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [2]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: none? reader is still hiding secrets of her past, mentions of like depressive symptoms without using that specific word though

Word Count: 5,940

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

Chapter #02: ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY BEAR?

Chapter Summary: You’re settling into a new city, and the Marshal lowkey thinks about firing you twenty minutes into the job.

  “make sure

  that the walls

  you build

  to protect yourself

  do not become a prison.”

  ⏤yung pueblo

There were three small neighborhoods that surrounded Nevarro, and the Marshal lived in the one closest to main street. After meeting the Mandalorian and his son, Nima took you back to her house. You planned on staying with her through the night and then starting your trial period today. You considered bringing your belongings with you but decided against it. What if you failed after a measly 24 hours? What if you were so terrible that Mado sent you home before dinner? It’d be embarrassing to carry all your stuff out after just carrying it in.

You admired the houses as you passed them looking for the address Nima had supplied you. It was a nice neighborhood. You weren't sure how an area settled in a lava plain could look like a place someone would want to settle, but this neighborhood was on the same side of a volcanic spring which left rivets of spring water all throughout the collection of houses. The homes were made to match the town itself and the white stone was a sharp contrast to the glassy, black ground that wasn't already paved with gray foot stones. Not much could grow in the ground underfoot, but planters had been designed all around with greenery and plant life. Despite it only being a little after 7 in the morning, the neighborhood was awake with movement. A man working on a fence around his home waved at you as you passed him. Two houses down, a mother checking her mail, infant in arms, greeted you as well.

It took a few more minutes to come across the house you were looking for. It looked similar to all the others. A small, one story home with shades of light and dark blue decorating the white rocks. The shutters on the large round windows matched the blue tones. There was a planter in the front yard where a thick tree resided. Gray stones led up to the front porch where a bench sat off to the side. It wasn’t the kind of place you could imagine a Mandalorian calling home. Not that you had a mental image of what a Mandalorian should call home.

Nervously, you straightened your clothes and pressed forward. The Marshal said he liked to get to work about 8:30 so you wanted to get here early enough to help out with Grogu while he got ready for work. You jogged onto the porch and knocked on the door.

A minute or so passed before the wooden door swung open revealing the same towering form covered in silver beskar as yesterday. Today he didn’t have on the baby carrier that lessened his intimidation factor. Your spine stiffened involuntarily, but you forced a smile and nod. “Morning!”

“Good morning.” He stepped off to the side. Quickly, you stepped in and let your eyes glance over the foyer. There was a small dining area to the left and a set of closed, glass paneled doors to the right that looked like an office. Ahead was an open kitchen and living room. The living room had tall glass windows to let in natural light, and there was an archway on the other side of the kitchen that you assumed led to the rest of the house. It was a neat and clean area with simple furniture, but little aspects like the folded clothes sitting on the couch and the stuffed animal lying on a rug next to some knick knacks made it feel lived in. “Did you have trouble finding the place?”

“No,” You said quickly, “It was easy enough. Sorry if I’m late.”

“You’re fine. Grogu is eating breakfast, but I do have to head in a little early.”

You followed him through the wide arch that took you from the foyer into the space that sat between the kitchen and living room. Hidden from initial view, Grogu sat in a high chair between the kitchen counter and island. His tray was covered in fruit and scrambled eggs. The child paused in eating to lift his gaze to you and gave a small wave. You chuckled and waved back. Grogu began to babble, but he was quick to return to eating.

“The bedrooms are down the hall and so is the fresher. I haven’t completely finished with a space for you yet, to be honest.”

You chuckled and waved your hands. “Don’t even worry about it. This was all sort of short notice-ish, right?” He nodded once. “I didn’t even bring my stuff with me yet so… um, anything I should know before you go?”

“Do you have a frequency number?”

“Oh.” You blurted. It was on your to-do list to get one, but you had completely forgotten. “I don’t actually. Mine broke when I was leaving Tatooine, and I planned on getting a new one while here."

Mando walked past you back toward the front of the house. You followed him with your eyes, but stayed stuck in place. A little laugh made you look over to Grogu who was reaching out to you⏤ his tray now clear of all food.

“You ate that stuff really fast.” You mumbled. When you reached out to hold his hand you realized the kid’s grip was sticky from the fruit he had eaten. “Oops, hang on.” You searched the kitchen and found a rag to run under the sink. Once damp with warm water, you came back to the kid and began to clean off his hands and around his mouth. “Messy little boy. Where’d your dad go? He’s not gonna kill me for not owning a communicator is he?”

Grogu giggled in response to your question. That wasn't a 'no'. The sound of approaching footsteps made you turn, and the Mandalorian returned with a new item in hand. He held it out for you, and you set down the rag on the high chair tray to take it. It was an older communicator built into an arm band.

“Thank you.” You said and struggled to attach it to your forearm.

“Those are tougher to break.” Mando’s words sounded like a teasing joke, but it was hard to get a read on the helmeted man. So you just shot him a smile in response. He wasn’t wrong. Granted, you broke your communicator throwing it into a wall after a fit of anger when news of the trial's most recent update had reached you. Since you didn't plan on checking in on anymore updates, any communicator in your grip was probably in safe hands. “It already has my frequency programmed into it. I’d prefer if you only called if there’s an emergency, but…I’d also like message updates. If you could.”

You nodded. “Absolutely. Is there anywhere he needs to be or anything specific that needs doing today?”

“No.” Mando shook his head. “He doesn’t start school for a few more weeks.”

“Well, alright. We’ll just hang out then.”

Mando stepped closer, toward his son, and you backpedaled so you’d be out of his way. Mando rubbed Grogu’s head lovingly, “I have to go, ad’ika. I’ll be back for dinner. Be good today.” He pointed a finger at him. “No trouble.”

Grogu grasped the finger with his hands. His eyes glanced over at you before returning to his father. He began to babble as he usually did. It was hard to tell, but it seemed like Mando’s shoulders slumped a bit. Was he nervous about leaving his son with you? You could understand the sentiment. You cleared your throat and hoped to reassure him. “I’ll keep a good eye on him, and we’ll have a fun day!”

“Alright. Thank you.” Mando nodded. He leaned down to lightly tap his forehead against Grogu’s. The child preened in excitement, hands batting at his helmet, and Mando chuckled in response. “Don’t hesitate to call if any issues arise.”

Mando left, giving Grogu one last glance over his shoulder, and you heard the front door close. With a steadying breath, you glanced down at the child who was staring up at you with curious eyes. He grunted out a chirp and you shrugged in response. “Now what?”

“Sorry, I’m late.” Din huffed as he hurried into the room. Cara sat at her desk while Mayfeld stood off to the side throwing darts at the board pinned to the wall. “Where’s Karga?”

“Just missed him.” Mayfeld responded without looking over at him. “He got tired of waiting.”

“I’m two minutes late.” Din argued.

“I’m just the messenger, boss man.” Mayfeld whistled. The man had drifted to Nevarro a week or so after Din accepted Karga's offer to be Marshal. As a 'dead man', all he had to do was stay out of the attention of the New Republic. Considering Nevarro was being advertised as a trade port truly independent from any well known bureaucracy in the system. It made sense for him to drift here, and once Din saw him he offered him work. Pirates and hunters still showed up here and there, and Din needed more than just himself and Cara. "He went back to his office."

Din resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Karga had said it was important they spoke this morning. He had rushed out of the house at his friend’s request, and it annoyed him that Karga wasn’t here. If this meeting was getting postponed regardless he could’ve just stayed an extra half hour with his son.

Cara chuckled from where she sat. “How’s the new nanny?”

“You hired a nanny?” Mayfeld turned, dart in hand, with wide eyes.

“He sure did.” Cara answered. “Nima’s not cousin.”

“What’s a not cousin?” Mayfeld furrowed his brow. He crossed the room to sit on the edge of Cara’s desk.

“A cousin you’re not actually related to.”

Din sighed with a shake of his head. “I think I have to let her go.”

“Seriously?” Cara sat up in her seat. “What happened? What’d she do?”

“Nothing.” Din responded quickly. “She’s…nice.”

He felt bad for even bringing it up. Cara and Mayfeld both stared at him waiting for him to elaborate. It wasn’t that Din had a problem with you personally. Yesterday's meeting had gone well. He had gotten a good feeling. You seemed trustworthy, smart, and kind. Din trusted his gut explicitly and his gut wasn't warning him of incoming danger. That was the best kind of recommendation a person could get.

However, this morning Grogu had held back. He chose to babble rather than use basic or Mando’a. It was a little thing, Grogu not referring to him as ‘buir’ when he said good-bye, but it sat wrong with him. Their home was a safe place. Din still wasn’t sure why his son was so peculiar about when he chose to speak and when he chose to babble, but he knew Grogu was comfortable enough to do it at home with him. He didn’t want to risk losing that. Not to mention, how would he take his helmet off with a stranger wandering around his house?

“We have a system. I don’t want to risk ruining that.” Din said.

Cara shook his head. “That’s not a good reason to fire Nima’s not cousin.”

“It’s not firing.” Din sighed. “We agreed on a trial. So, technically…”

“Poor, poor girl.” Mayfeld shook his head with a cluck of his tongue. “She didn’t stand a chance, did she?”

Din set his hands on his hips in annoyance. He reminded himself that firing his team would just mean having to find new people to help him watch over the city. Cara rose from her seat and clapped her hands. “Let’s go see Karga. I can lecture you on the way there.” He sighed while Mayfeld just chuckled and went back to throwing darts. While Cara and Din went to city hall, Mayfeld would man the station in case anyone came running in with an emergency. “Come on, Mando.”

The Magistrate's building wasn’t a far walk from the station. They could’ve taken the speeders if they wanted to, and saved themselves fifteen minutes, but Din liked walking around the city ensuring everything was in order. He hoped it brought comfort to those establishing their lives here that they were safe. The more Nevarro grew, the more risks came into play. Pirates, wild animals, hunter, and bandits. There was a list of dangers to keep an eye open for. Those reasons aside, Din also knew Cara wouldn’t pass on an opportunity to tell him he was being an idiot.

“You do realize it’s a bad look to promise a trial period to a woman then decide to fire her twenty minutes into her first day, right?”

Din shook his head and kept his gaze on the buildings around them. “I haven’t made a decision yet.”

“The fact that you’re even thinking about it though…”

“Grogu is settled in our routine. He’s doing so well, I don’t want to mess that up.”

“I think this might do him some good.” Cara argued. Din waited patiently for her to explain her thought process. He valued his friend’s opinion and though any topic about his son was a touchy one, he’d always hear them out. “Up until now, who all has been watching him?”

Din shrugged. “Peli mostly. Ms. Jeelk from the flower shop. You and Karga in short moments.”

“The kid needs to meet new people to grow. It’s why you’re so excited for him to start school. Isn’t it?”

“Well, yes.”

Cara nodded. “It might take the little guy a minute to warm up to her, but introducing him to different people is probably a good idea. It’s just an adjustment period.” Both her and Din returned the warm greetings of a few people they passed. “He’s safe here, you know.” Cara reached out to punch him in the arm with a grin. “You did good, Mando. You made him a home. The fight is over.”

They continued on to the Magistrate's office, and Cara gave him the time to mull over what she had said. She was right. This was the safest they had ever been, but it was hard to shake the fear. It was less than a year ago that he was on the run with Grogu avoiding the Moff Gideon and the Imps who wanted to hurt his son. Grogu’s nightmares may have stopped, but Din still found himself looking over his shoulder waiting for their bubble of safety to pop.

As they neared the end of the road, the statue of IG-11 came into view. Coming down from the stairs of the building was Greef Karga as he spoke to the Captain of the local fire station.

“Maybe,” Din spoke up and both of them stopped a few feet from the building, “I’ll give her a better chance.”

“A better chance than the twenty minutes you’ve already given?” Cara teased.

Din chuckled. “Yes.”

“Mando!” Karga cheered. As he drifted toward them dressed in his Magistrate robes of gold and red. His assistant droid meandering behind him. Cara and Din gave a quick good-bye wave to the fire captain as he left. Karga pulled the attention back to himself. “What took you so long, my friend?”

Nanny dilemma aside, it was time for him to focus on work.

“Personally, I’ve never been a fan.” You continued to color on the paper laying on the floor in front of you. “Some of the dried fruits just have a weird texture to me. You know?” You lifted your gaze to point your crayon at Grogu who was alternating between drawing and snacking on a bowl of dried apricots that you had rustled out of the pantry. “But something tells me that you eat just about anything. That’s the vibe I’m getting.”

Grogu chirped out an acknowledgement.

Since Mando had left, the day had gone fairly easy. Grogu was cute and keeping him entertained had been fun thus far. You had been busy with him playing with his toys, snacking, running around the backyard, snacking, drawing⏤ and of course, more snacking. The kid was like a black hole. You thought after preparing him a lunch of a sandwich and chips it would’ve kept him full, but only an hour later he was gulping down apricots while drawing.

“Am I supposed to be feeding you this much?” You asked. “How much does your dad feed you?”

Grogu babbled his response without looking up at you. He was working hard on a picture of his dad and what looked like some kind of bulky ship behind him. It was pretty good for a kid. All the papers he had colored on were of either him and his dad or a collection of other people you didn’t recognize. One was another Mandalorian but in different colored armor. You wondered if this armored man lived in Nevarro as well, and if so how many Mandalorians this place had in total.

“Who is that?” You reached out from where you rested on the floor to point at the picture of his father. Grogu lifted his head to give you a curious look. His head tilted comically and you grinned. “Who is this, Grogu?” He babbled in response. You didn’t spend a lot of time with kids and it had been ages since you practiced any kind of pediatric medicine specifically, but you remembered enough. Developmentally, you knew talking to a kid in full sentences with an actual vocabulary was better than baby talk. It was also good to ask them questions for them to answer. “Who is that?”

Grogu lightly slapped his hand against the paper while he chirped out nonsense.

“Is it your dad?” You asked. “Da? Daddy? Dada?” You weren’t sure what the kid called Mando if he knew how to say anything at all. “Father?”

Grogu grew quiet for a moment, staring at you, and you just offered him a soft, patient smile⏤ giving him the time to offer a response in any way he could. Finally, Grogu carefully set his hand on his father’s drawn chest tenderly. “Buir.”

Your eyes widened in surprise at the new sound. “Who is that?”

“Buir. Buir.” Grogu gave the page a soft pat and he said the word slowly as if he were trying to teach you now.

“Boo-uur?” You tried to repeat. “Byu⏤ Are you trying to say bear?”

Grogu shook his head, ears whipping around him, and he leaned forward the pat your chin. “Buir. Buir.”

“Buir.” You repeated the sound he made. Grogu beamed and bounced in place. “Okay, buir.” He ate another apricot and went back to drawing. “So you call your dad ‘buir’. Is that Mandalorian?” You paused. “It’s not called Mandalorian.  He’s  a Mandalorian. I can’t remember… Mandai? Man…” You shook your head and colored a bit more on your paper. “Buir. Interesting.”

Both of you colored in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before Grogu tossed his crayon aside and began to waddle away. You tilted your head to try and see where he was going, but your view was blocked by the couch as you laid on the floor. “Hey,” You called out, “Are you going to the toilet?”

You learned quick that Grogu was potty trained which was great. He had his own little toilet in the bathroom that you just needed to empty after use. Grogu stopped in place and turned to look at you. He pointed in the direction of the front of the house and grunted out a sound. You pushed up from your spot to go to him. Grogu held his hands up in a grabby motion.

“What is it you want, buddy?” You scooped him up. He tapped your arm then pointed and you followed. Inside the office, parked to the side, was a floating egg shaped pram. Curiously, you tapped the button on the front of the top opened up to reveal cushioning and blankets. Grogu didn’t hesitate to leap from your arms into the pram and with ease he somehow began to navigate it himself. The pram floated past you and stopped at the closed front door. You nodded, “Alright, we can go out and walk around the neighborhood, but you gotta promise not to float away from me. Deal?”

Grogu bounced in place. “ ‘lek.”

“Just wait there, let me grab us some water.” You hurried back to the kitchen fridge to grab two bottles. On the way out, you scooped up a light blue, soft doll in the shape of a cartoon frog. You handed it to Grogu who set the stuffed amphibian beside him in a way where it looked like the frog was the co-pilot of the pram. You set your hand on the doorknob then paused to turn to Grogu. “No floating away. Right?”

“‘lek, ‘lek, ‘lek, ‘lek.” Grogu bounced with each sound.

You hoped that was a sound of acknowledgement and agreement then opened the door. It’d be really awkward if you lost the green ball of energy the first day you had him.

All day long you had continued to send Mando updates as he requested. A quick message about lunch, a quick message that you were out in the backyard playing, another message that you were feeding him for the twelfth time that day. He hadn’t actually responded to any of your many messages, but you assumed no response was a good thing. At least he wasn’t calling you demanding why you were doing something or another. That was probably a good sign.

You trailed a step behind Grogu as he drifted down the sidewalk in his pram⏤ letting him run the show. The watch version of a communicator was kind of a pain in the ass to type on, but you were beginning to get mildly decent at it. It was the little victories, after all. You fired off another quick message letting Mando know that you and Grogu were walking around the neighborhood.

Not even a minute had passed before your watch beeped with an incoming message.

  ‘Okay. Please be careful.’

Your eyes widened at the first response you had garnered all day. Did this mean he was upset you had brought him out? Maybe upset wasn’t the right word. Nervous? Mando didn’t demand you take him back inside immediately so it must not have been too awful of a crime. Still, getting a response at all made your stomach flip. Seeing Mando interact with his son was sweet and it softened his image significantly, but you still found yourself intimidated. He was a Mandalorian. Yes, all you truly knew of his kind came from stories and legends, but if any of those stories were even remotely true they were something to be feared. Hardened, seasoned fighters capable of unbelievable feats. Warriors who, once upon a time, hunted Jedi just for the hell of it. Add all of that to the faceless nature of the man who gave you chills. You weren’t sure of the rules of his helmet, you had heard conflicting stories of that, but it felt odd not being able to see the expressions the man wore. It added to the mystique and fear factor.

‘We will!’ You typed back to send and grimaced at how dumb the simple statement sounded. It was embarrassing how long you contemplated using the exclamation point or not. You were definitely overthinking this.

The sound of unfamiliar cooing made you look up from your new accessory to see Grogu had drifted close to a fence with buckets of flowers hanging from it. A young woman, wearing a large sun hat, working in the yard stood on the other side wiggling her gloved fingers at him.

“Well hi there, cutie! Wook at you and your wittle froggie.” Her words turned to unintelligible babbling that Grogu copied with gusto. You chuckled in amusement. “Oh yes yes yes, you are such a good wittle boy and good wittle boys get pwesents!”

The woman plucked some flowers from her hanging pots and handed them to Grogu. You inched closer to the scene. Had you suddenly become invisible? When you saw Grogu’s eyes light up, flowers in hand, you snatched the plant away right before he could swallow a mouthful of purple petals.

“Whoa, little man, we don’t eat flowers. We smell them.” You held the flowers out to him again. “Can you smell them? I’ll give them back to you if you can.”

Grogu bobbed his head in excitement and you handed him back the flowers which he took happily. His eyes glanced at you questioningly and you raised an eyebrow at him in warning. In response, he buried his face into the flowers without eating them. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Who are you?”

Your eyes snapped back to the woman who was staring at you with a frown and furrowed brow. Apparently she could see you now. "Oh, I'm Soran." You introduced yourself with a smile and a small wave. The woman seemed unimpressed by you so you cleared your throat and added. “I’m Grogu’s nanny.”

“The Marshal hired a nanny?” She gasped. You nodded. “Well, he didn’t have to do that.” She turned back to the pram with a wide grin. “I would’ve been more than happy to watch this cutie.”

“I’m sorry. I never caught your name.” You chuckled.

“Torlee.” She responded without making eye contact with you. Torlee rubbed the top of Grogu’s head. “You tell your daddy that Torlee gave you those flowers.”

Grogu babbled once then began to drift down the path once more. You chuckled and followed after. Over your shoulder you tossed out, “It was nice to meet you.” Torlee didn’t return the sentiment. It was a bit of an unusual interaction, but you didn’t put much stock into it. “Those flowers are really pretty, aren’t they?”

The kid had set aside the flowers in his pram, but at your words he plucked one up and held it out to you. He cooed and pointed to your face as you took it from him. Understanding what he was asking for, you tucked the flower behind your ear. Grogu laughed and clapped his hands.

If there was one thing he could alter about his job, it was the paperwork. Din never had to file a report on bounties. He got the puck, caught the quarry, then collected the reward. Easy, simple. However, establishing a new town was filled with busywork. Him, Cara, and Mayfeld were still in the process of setting up security protocols and mapping out the region for safety reasons. He took a step back from his desk, hands on his hips, as his eyes scanned the map on his desk. Something didn’t look right, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Din sighed in irritation and resisted the urge to pull off his helmet so he could rub his hands over his face. As if that could solve his exhaustion.

“Hey.” Cara knocked on the door frame.

“Yeah?”

“I got a message from your neighbor Torlee.” Cara chuckled. Din tilted his head in confusion. Torlee. That name was vaguely familiar. Despite not seeing his expression, she must have realized he was struggling to place a face to the name. “Like three houses down from yours. Short black hair. Human.”

“Yeah, I think I know⏤”

“Gardens in her front lawn. Definitely wants to fuck you⏤”

“Okay, okay.” Din waved his hand at her. “I said I knew. What about her?”

Cara chuckled, “She called in to talk to you, but when she couldn’t get through she just messaged me.” She came into the office, communicator in hand. “Torlee wanted to know if you hired someone to watch Grogu because she was concerned someone was stealing your kid.”

Din’s lips twitched up in amusement. Now that he remembered who she was talking about, he knew Torlee had a tendency to overreact. “Did you let her know Grogu wasn’t being kidnapped?”

“I did. But before I explained your new nanny situation she sent me a picture of the perp in question.” Cara held up the communicator for him to take. Din let out a light laugh at the picture sent to her. The picture must have been taken from across the street. You were knelt down by the side of the pram holding a bottle of bubbles while helping Grogu blow out of the wand. A large purple flower was tucked behind your ear. Cara hummed. “It’s a good thing you’re letting her go today.”

Din sighed and handed the phone back to her. “I said I was going to give her a real chance.”

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop making fun of you though.”

You stayed out with the kid for about an hour exploring the neighborhood, and he was making out like a bandit. Every single person you passed had to stop the two of you to chat and many handed out small gifts to him. Other than the flowers he had collected a few snack foods, a pinwheel, and a little bottle of bubbles that one mother had shared with the two of you as she was out with her own small children. All the interaction must have worn him out because Grogu passed out for a little bit which gave you the time to clean up any of the messes made in the house.

There were some dishes in the sink from breakfast and lunch, plus all of Grogu’s toys were scattered about the living room. Cleaning up didn’t take very long. You even stuck all the art the kid had created on the fridge and set the purple flowers from Torlee in a vase on the kitchen counter.

Grogu stayed in the pram while he slept, you didn’t see the point of moving him and risking him waking up. While he slept, you took the time to walk through the house and explore the bits you hadn't seen. The hall attached to the kitchen broke off to the right where a tiled room designed for washing clothes sat. It had a set of glass doors that led out onto the back porch. Further down the hall were three doors. The first door was open and you could see that it was a bedroom. All you could see from the doorway was a half made bed and dresser. You didn’t spend too much time looking since it was obviously Mando's room and looking felt like an invasion of privacy. The next door led into a simple bathroom, and the last one was a smaller bedroom. This one felt less lived in.

A bed frame sat in the center with a clean but uncovered mattress. There was a small nightstand made of the same light colored wood as the bed frame. There was no dresser but a side door led into an empty closet. This must be the room meant for you. That left no separate room for Grogu. The kid probably slept in his father’s bedroom then, but you didn’t want to look further into the room for Grogu’s little bed.

Faintly, you heard Grogu’s voice and hurried back down the hall in time to see him wiggling out of his pram in the living room. You were halfway to him when he turned with his arms outstretched.

“Did you have a good nap?” You picked him up and Grogu didn’t hesitate to snuggle into your chest⏤ still drowsy from sleep. Lightly, you rubbed his back and swayed in place. “Aw, you want some cuddles, kiddo?”

“Mhmm.” Grogu mumbled as he began to drift off again.

The kid was incredibly cute. More so than you initially thought, and you came into this thinking he was super cute. For the last couple months, you had limited contact with anyone. You kept in touch with Nima, of course, but that was about it. This time last year, you had a very active social schedule. You had been thriving. Then, the night had happened. The worst shift of your life. Things had spiraled from there and you grew distant from your friends. Months passed and just as things were beginning to get better, you nearly died.

Your hand drifted away from rubbing Grogu’s back to trace the scar along your collarbone once more.

The attacker had gone on trial while you were in the hospital, and it was still ongoing today. After your release from the hospital, it was recommended to you that you rely on your friends and go to therapy, but you had done the exact opposite. You fled Coruscant, found a shitty little apartment in Mos Espa on Tatooine, and disappeared from everyone’s radar. Nima was the only thing that kept you human. On nearly a daily basis she’d invite you to visit her, but you always turned her down.

Holding Grogu in your arms right now, you wondered if you finally accepted Nima’s offer because of how much you missed interacting with others. It only occurred to you now. This was your first non-Nima hug in Maker knows how long. You smiled to yourself and went back to lightly rubbing the dozing child’s back.

“Thanks for hanging out with me today, kid.” You mumbled softly.

Close to 7PM, the sound of the front door opening interrupted Grogu from whatever story he was babbling about as you stirred the pot on the stove top. He was seated on the counter a safe distance from the open flame playing with a small, silver ball.

“Buir!” Grogu shouted. You caught him before he leapt from the counter and carefully set him on the floor. He waddled out of the kitchen as fast as he could. “Buir! Buir! Buir!”

You chuckled and lowered the heat on the stove and covered the top with a lid. Grogu’s voice was so excited and when you turned the corner into the foyer you saw Mando holding him in his arms listening intently as the child spoke. Grogu slapped his hands lightly against his father’s helmet.

“I know, ad’ika. Not yet.” Mando said. His helmet rose until the t-shaped visor was facing you rather than his son. “How was your day?”

“It was great!” You replied. “We had a lot of fun. Grogu was very well behaved.”

“Very well behaved? That’s a first.”

You motioned to him. “How about you? Good day at work?”

“Yes.”

There was a beat where only Grogu was speaking. He had gone back to tapping on the helmet with his small hand. Mando held his hand to stop the motion and Grogu responded by nuzzling his head into the crook of the Mandalorian’s neck. Again, it was hard to be intimidated by the Marshal when his child was in his arms.

“I, um,” You cleared your throat, “I made dinner. Just some stew⏤ nothing fancy.” Mando nodded and you crossed your arms. “I told Nima I’d get dinner with her tonight. I figured you’d want some time alone with Grogu anyways, but if you need me just call and I’ll come running.”

“It's okay.” He said. “I’m not on call tonight so you don’t need to worry.”

“Great.” You stepped past Mando toward the door then awkwardly hesitated, not knowing if you should say more before leaving. “Same time tomorrow?”

Mando shifted so he faced you. “Yes, please.”

“Got it.” You tilted your head and waved your hand. “Goodnight, Grogu. I’ll see you in the morning. Can you say good night?”

Grogu lifted his head from his father’s shoulder and beamed at you. “Ca!”

Maybe this week you'd work on teaching him easy words like 'yes' and 'night' and 'bye'. Mando’s head snapped down to stare at him though, and you found yourself wishing you could see what expression he was wearing. It was so hard to gauge the Mandalorian’s mood. You moved to leave, hand on the door, but Mando’s voice calling out your name forced you to pause.

“I was thinking…” Mando began. “I’m on call tomorrow night. Maybe you can bring some of your stuff in the morning? I can show you your room.”

You smiled and gave him a small nod. “Yeah. Sure. See you tomorrow, Mando.”

“Good night. Thank you.”

When you stepped out, there was still light in the sky. The sun was only beginning to set, but you knew it’d be dark before the clock stuck 8. It wouldn’t take that long to reach Nima so you weren’t too concerned. Besides, walking after dark in a city this small and cozy had to be safer than Coruscant. You swung your arms by your side as you walked feeling lighter than you had in quite some time.

[darthmaulification]

(Idk why I thought this but I think it’s funny) Imagine din and reader going back to visit Karga for a job and reader is a apparent heart throb to most of the villagers (not that she knows) and like “hi mrs. Parker” Friday style, these women are see them walking by going “hi Reader~” with cara teasing of reader the whole time having to tell the ladies that reader is already taken with din.

A/N: you are my very first  request, so i decided to do a full, bonifide one shot! thank you so very much!! 🥰💕💕

oddly enough, din doesn’t show his bucket in this until the very end. 💀 it became really cara-centric for some reason. hope that’s okay! 😖

also, the trope of “everyone collectively loves person, but person is so utterly oblivious to it” is, without fail, one of the funniest bits any piece of media can pull lmao.

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: references of sex (kinda), saucy language, gender neutral!reader (my first time writing a gn reader 😲), reader being completely “no thoughts head empty” type of oblivious, cara just brutally teasing reader, soft!din makes an appearance!, cara is also kinda a bisexual icon???

word count: 1,775

“... What do you mean?” 

Cara looks at you strange. She searches your face for a few seconds longer, eyebrows furrowed, trying to see if you’re serious. 

“Are you fucking with me?” She deadpans evenly, and you tilt your head slightly, blinking. You slowly shake your head, raising an eyebrow.

“No...?” You drag out the word and Cara barks a sudden, loud laugh at your genuine confusion, tossing back her head as she does. She straightens up in her seat, still chuckling lightly, and picks up her glass of spotchka. Cara leans against the backrest, draping her free arm over it.

“You’re really not fucking with me, huh?” She mutters with a grin, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a low, long sip, her eyes not leaving yours. You frown, puzzled.

“Cara, I have no ide—"

“Everyone wants to fuck you.” Cara interrupts and it takes a moment for the blunt, vulgar words to register, but when they do you feel heat rise in your cheeks. You visibly recoil, sputtering out an answer.

“I— What are— There's no—” All Cara does as you fumble over your words, getting more and more red in the face, is shrug, an easy grin on her face.

“Yeah, everyone wants to get in your pants, can’t say I blame ‘em.” Her grin turns downright predatory and it gives you the final push to spit out a reply.

“WHAT?” The word comes out incredulous and far louder that you had meant, causing you to cringe at the sound of your voice reverberating in the cantina. People glance over at you and you give the crowd a sheepish, nervous smile. Thankfully, everyone turns back to whatever they were doing, no questions asked. Then your head whips back to Cara, whose all smug-looking, to shoot her a glare. Your face is positively burning, and you just know she can see it.

“Are you fucking with me?” You throw her own question back at her, but it falls flat because all it does is grow the shit-eating grin that’s plastered on Cara’s face. She shrugs, gesturing around lazily to the room at large.

“Jax, the Rodian over there, gives you puppy dog eyes, Kol and Zaltor— the Trandoshans, not the Togrutas, by the way— look at your ass every time they get, that pink Twi’lek gal over there practically fawns over you— think her names’ Numa or Nima or something, the Duros over there...”

Cara continues listing off more and more names, and with each one (some who you know and have spoken to) you feel yourself getting more and more flustered. You sink low in your chair, staring wide eyed into your spotchka, hands on your temples.

“Good Maker.” You groan, placing your hands over your face and slumping onto the table. Cara (finally) stops listing literally the entire population of the village and gazes at you quizzically. She tilts her head.

“Don’t like being the sex idol of the town?” She teases and you groan again, louder this time. You glare up at her through your fingers, still furiously blushing. Oh, how you wish Din was here to beat the snot out of Miss Dune...

“No. This is a nightmare.” You growl out, going back to digging your face into the table, hoping the sandstone would just swallow you whole. Before Cara can reply, a new voice sounds up.

“U-Um, hi.” You stiffen and turn your head to the side to see two Twi’leks, one taller than the other, standing next to the table. They seem a bit nervous, fidgeting with their lekku and rocking on their feet, but something tells you they’re here for... something. The moment you meet Cara’s gaze, your face blanches.

“Kill me now.”

“Hey, pretty ladies.”

You groan and Cara flirts at the exact same time, Cara’s strong voice unfortunately gaining the upper hand. Both Twi’lek giggle, and the taller of the two, the lavender skinned one, flutters her eyelashes. Even more unfortunately, you make eye contact with her. She flushes when you meet her gaze.

“O-Oh my— Stars, um hi!” She and her companion devolve into giggles again and you force yourself to sit up. Giving them a forced smile, you rest your hands under your chin and elbows on the table.

“Hello. What can I do for you?” You ask through gritted teeth, attempting to keep your strained voice relatively nice, while also fighting back both the blush that’s still on your cheeks and the urge to shoot Cara with your blaster. Thankfully, the Twi’leks have gotten over the apparent “meeting their idol” giggles, because now the shorter one places a dusty tan hand on the table and leans in. A bright, stunning smile spreads across her face, but something flirty burns in her eyes.

“Mm. Me and my sister here have just been seeing you around so often.” She says, voice a obviously practiced mix of playfully coy and feigning ignorance. You glance from her, to her lavender sister, then to Cara. And your luck must really be in the gutters, or maybe Cara just wants to torture you—or both— but the mercenary only offers you a grin, lifts her spotchka to her lips, and sips. Your hands curl into fists.

“Yeah, I—” 

“You’re talking to Mando’s squeeze, babes.” Cara interrupts yet again and all three sets of eyes land on her. Two of them moon-eyed and incredulous if not also disappointed, one of them so embarrassed that Carasynthia Dune, you are a dead woman—

“Really?” The lavender Twi'lek’s eyes are so blown wide you almost think they’d roll out of her head. Her sister looks just as awestruck, and both look a tad bit fearful. You go to speak, but Cara (you’re really starting to hate her) opens her mouth again and beats you to the cut.

“Mm hm. Y’all are hitting on the Mando’s sweetheart. Pretty bold, honestly, he’s real protective over this one.” The blush you put all your hard work into smothering returns full force at Cara’s words, and the Twi’leks start looking a bit flustered themselves, though for another reason.

“So sorry!” The lavender one breaks first and goes running off to a Rodian and Zabrak sitting at a far table. She leans in close, seeming to whisper something into their ears, and suddenly all three of them are looking at you with a strange mix of disappointment, lust, and fear. You hastily look away and hide your face behind your hand.

“Aw. Shame.” The tan Twi’lek purses her lips, pushing herself off the table, and you begrudgingly force yourself to look at her. She gives you that stunning smile again and winks.

“You know I’m here for you.” She says and sashays off to where her sister is. Across the room, she gives you another wink and flutters her fingers. Pretty sure that all your bloods’ in your face, you turn to Cara, slowly.

“Cara.” You say her name lowly, looking her dead in the eye. She’s grinning, and blows a lock of her hair out of her face. She feigns an unassuming, innocent look, but both you and her know better.

“Yeah?” She’s walking on thin ice and she knows it, but you also know she’s never been afraid of risk.

“I’m going to kill you.” You say, coming across as deadly serious as you possibly can. Cara’s grin widens, her eyes twinkling, and she downs the last of her spotchka.

“I know,” She starts and she shrugs, “But you know I couldn’t resist.”

You want to reach over and smack her a good one, but a voice alerts you to a certain someone at your side.

“Hey.” Din’s low, modulated voice gentle pulls your attention to him and you turn your head to look up at your silver-clad lover. Even with the dark T-visor, you know exactly where to look to find those soft, doe eyes beneath it. A small smile creeps across your face.

“Hey.” You reply and he offers a hand to you, which you gladly accept. Like always, his hand is large and warm and strong, and it makes you feel completely at peace. Din helps you up to your feet, settling you close, but not too close, to his side. 

“I got the next few pucks, and the kid’s already in the Crest, so we’re ready to head out...” Din trails off and tilts his head, and you can feel his curious gaze roam your face. 

“Your face is... pretty flushed. Are you feeling okay?” He asks it so gently and sweetly, his gloved hand still holding yours, that it’s almost enough to make you forget why your all disheveled in the first place. Letting out a forced, somewhat breathy laugh, you pull your hand away to cross your arms over your chest.

“Um, yeah, yeah— I’m good.” You assure him, but Din knows you so he turns his attention on Cara, whose sprawl in her seat, looking like a satisfied loth cat.

“What did you do?” He asks, keeping his voice neutral, but there’s a hint of that good ol’ Din Protectiveness seeping in too. Part of you celebrates that Din’s finally here to beat up Cara, but all the other parts of you just want to hop on back the Razor Crest and get the Hell out of here. Cara lazily raises her hands in mock surrender, tilting her head into her shoulder.

“Just playing, that’s all.” She replies, eying your spotchka from across the table. She and Din are in some type of staring match even as she reaches and snags your drink. You don’t care enough to protest. Din stares at Cara for a few seconds longer before he shifts on his feet and turns back to you.

“Ready to go, cyare?” His voice is like warm like sunshine, and it makes your entire being light up. You nod and smile, uncrossing your arms to grab his hand. His thick fingers close around yours, encasing your hand in his.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” You reply as you both start walking, tethered to one another by the most sacred link you can while in public. Din and you walk side by side, a Mandalorian and his beloved, through the cantina and out the door.

Cara watches you leave, then looks around at all the inhabitants of the cantina who had also watched you and the Mando leave hand-in-hand. She nearly laughs at all the looks of disappointment. You really were the village heart throb.

And as Cara downs the last of her (your) spotchka, she ponders,

Dammit. Wish it was me instead of Mando.

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft, Hazlan Arc, part 5

"It’s cool. They stole it." "And you know this how?" "Magic." “90% of Ravenloft deaths are mysterious vanishings.” "Why does everything come out covered in glitter and … is that …" "Lube. I’ve got a few theories." "Please don’t share them."

OOC: This is a plan that ends with Strahd having fewer brides, his castle is in flames, and he’s lost his cape.

OOC: Our team consists of a horny pyromancer, a gnome who can fillete you in five seconds, an HP lovecraft protagonist with actual magic backing them up, a literal slab of iron with a face, and a guy with a "I went to the eternal city of Ryleth and all I got was PTSD and this lousy T shirt". Gorbash smashing his shield into their face: "Have! You! Considered! Therapy!" OOC: Good news is you guys will no longer be the most conspicuous guys at the masquerade now. Jonni: Challenge accepted! "Nyx, the bounty on stealing his fake mustache is still on."

"Lets see, gonna make Jonni Deathlock six, gonna make the cleric a Huecuva, the Dragonborn a skeleton warrior, make a wight with the gnome.... I don't think I can make an undead with the big guy but pretty sure Hazlik wants him personally." Gorebash is offended. "I beat the shit out of the witch-slaying sentient hammer that was trying to gank you and all I merit is a Skeleton Warrior! That hurts Nima. I expect CR3 or better or I'm taking my corpse business elsewhere." "I'm not powerful enough to make you a death knight, Sorry." Jonni: "Wow, Hazzy, you need better minions. We should kill her." OOC: Point is, if you can make liches or Death knights, Hazlik's already killed you and written his name over your grad thesis.

Jonni: "NOPE! No fey queens. Not after last time! Well… maybe just a few times…"

“Hey, I need to ask for some magic stuff, but also I need an outfit for a royal dinner. Something that says, I’m an ostentatious adventurer visitor to your lands, but also that I plan to spending this dinner in the cloak room with one or more of the serving maids.”

As it is most gauche to appear before a darklord with a warpick sized hole in the middle of one's chest.

"... This place has made green things seem ominous to me."

"A giant beanstalk, this is the most unique wizard's tower I've ever seen."

On that note you also notice behind the Beanstalk is what seems like a huge lagoon of bubbling green ooze. Edmund leans to the side to get a good look... Several zombies are working tossing corpses into it, as the corpses hit the ooze they dissolve into it. Edmund leans back to get a less good look before knocking.

"Since he hopefully can't hear us, Your boss is kind of a self absorbed egomaniac... if he didn't have so power I'm sure someone would have thrown a brick at him by now." “I know where we can find bricks.” "Supply of Bricks is not the issue, Jonni." “Everyone says that until the revolt starts. Pays to be prepared.”

“That explains it. You’re about the research, your boss is about applied power of dickery.”

“I hung around a magic school once to let the grad students study me for their thesis.”

“Oh, good fascist wizards. Why can’t we kill him again?” "Phenomenal cosmic power."

"Oh crud, the ooze someone merged some of the corpses together and brought them back to life as a new being. At least that is my wild guess as to what happened here." Willow blinks. "Um, this is unprecedented." “Nah, but usually you need lighting and some grave robbing.”

"I mean I grew a toe out of corn." Willow says, "Its not that far fetched."

"You think, therefore you are. Freedom is your right." “Weird, that magic red self driving wagon I met once said something similar.”

"The Elder Brain will deal with you eventually. You will never escape it." “Clan chief told me that the day I stole his mammoth after he found me with his daughter. Pretty sure that loser is still freezing his tiny grimbas off on fuck-stick mountain.”

at supper, to Mama: "I am forbidden from your kitchen for good reason, but I may require your assistance with my culinary dark arts for the feast." Mama gives you a dirty look. "Who are you trying to kill?" "Not kill, on purpose anyway, just a severe enough food coma."

"Yes, I already reminded the others we can't fake our deaths again." "Yeah that only works so often," Sergei says. Edmund lost a perfectly good watch that day.

OOC: THE FUCKING LENG FOLK HAVE UFOS! MOTHER-FUCKERS!

"Plus we owe you for sending the Sullivans our way. That was a well paying job." "Yeah, except I got those fleas on me and hallucinated I was a pawn broker sign. That was a weird afternoon."

As side effect of the dark cookery, Marshal's armor is well-oiled throughout the day, though Mama insists he be kept away from Jonni or pregnant women.

...you can see ominous black clouds of smoke coming from the wagon all that day. The rats and roaches circling it with anticipation. With the occasional black speech of "Double it." Mama comes rushing out after a bit, holding a rag on her face. "That.. is very ominous." “We’re gonna have to cast this back into the fires of its creation eventually.” "Marshal may serve the gods, but when he cooks he's channeling Asmodeus himself." OOC: The meal must be cast into the deep fryers of Mount McDoom. Only there can it be unmade.

Marshal's player: *rolls natural 20 on cooking check* GM: Congradulations, it's edible. Marshal: "It...is done..." "By all that is holy..." The chocolate is so dark, light cannot escape it’s surface. 50 pounds of butter per square inch. OOC: It occurs to me this is basically a more fucked up retelling of Snow White.

“Gor, going with plan C cup. You know what I like if he starts thinking he’s cute by offering choices of rewards.” "Try not to do anything that requires a rescue."

Marshall is clearly trying to spontaneously multiclass into psionics the way he's trying to vaporize Hazlik with his stare.

"I will draw." Hazlik smiles, places the cards before you, then steps the hell back. Jonni pat Edmunds shoulder and shakes his hand. “It’s been okay knowing you. You were one of the least dickish dudes I ever met. And part of a select few I didn’t want to punch in the balls.”

“You will. Briefly. That’s a promise from Jonathana, She Who Makes Torches of Men. Daughter of Eloise Wolf Slayer, outcast of the Mammoth Tribe, and consort of the 37th Princess of Fuck Mountain.“

OOC: Nima is someone we can actively reach to strangle to death. Dark lords are a bit out of choking range.

OOC: But.... and this is important: Will Edmund ever get pants? OOC: Strahd will consider it.

OOC: Like this is the dark powers going "He looked at me crossways, PUT HIM N THE HOLE."

OOC: If Ravenloft is a jail/prison, this is the equivalent of getting thrown in solitary confinement. OOC: Without pants.

[notalwaysthevillian]

My Whirlpool of a Life

Ships: Kaminari/OC

Word Count: ~2.2k

I will not be doing a tag list for this fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 9: Rescue Wrap Up

“A villain has completed another large-scale attack.”

“Everyone!” Midoriya addressed us. “This is part of the exam!”

I gasped as Gang Orca walked out of the destroyed wall, smoke trailing from the explosion. He was not an opponent I would ever want to face.

“Tell me, wannabe heroes.” He looked at us, his red eyes focused. “Can you rescue people and fight at the same time?”

“The terrorists have appeared and are beginning to sweep the area. Hero candidates at the scene should continue their rescue efforts while also suppressing the newly-arrived villains.”

“Now,” Gang Orca started moving into the arena. “How will you react? Will you fight? Or protect? Help or run away? What would a hero do?”

As the villain crew ran towards us, Shindo took off toward them. “Get everyone to safety! Get them as far away from the villains as possible!”

“On it!” I called back, looking towards those that were injured. “If you can run, follow me! If you can’t, find the closest hero!”

I gently moved water underneath the most injured people, keeping them as flat as possible. I ran, moving towards a new area of the arena. “Someone get ahead and clear out a spot!”

A high pitched noise rang out from behind me, but I didn’t dare look back. I had to trust that Shindo knew what he was doing, or that someone else would step in. The people we’d rescued were now my number one priority.

Mina and Ojiro came running up with a few people. I heard them talking to Midoriya behind me and waved Mina over, still moving.

“Can you give me an update?” My legs kept pumping and Mina was gasping as she tried to keep up.

“We found a few more injured people at the opposite end of the river. Todoroki jumped in to help out with Gang Orca.”

“Okay, good. He’s strong, he can hold him off until more people can help.”

I felt the air around us start to whip around and knew that Yoarashi must’ve joined in the fight. With two powerful heroes at our back, I was a lot more relaxed.

The people who had run ahead were still clearing out an area for the first aid station. I gently swept those I’d grabbed with my waves to the flat area, before using those same waves to shove debris out of the way. The others caught up fairly quickly, able to rest once more.

“Apologies for those of you who had to run on your own.” I said as we started to get everyone settled again. “A villain attack is no joke, and we needed to get you out of there as soon as possible. Those of you who still need injuries tended to, please flag down the nearest hero.”

I looked up just in time to see Yoarashi fall out of the air. He was able to control his descent, but I had no idea what happened.

The urge to help was strong, but I knew Midoriya had stayed behind. Our powerhouses would have to pull it off. If they couldn’t, at least I’d be here as another line of defense.

“Miss?” A little boy tugged at my pant leg, eyes full of tears. “Are we going to be attacked again?”

“If we are, I’ll protect you. I promise.”

The kid reminded me so much of Izumi. I held my arms out for a hug and he jumped into them.

“How old are you?” I asked, trying to keep him occupied as I walked around, handing out bandages when necessary.

He clung to my leg like a koala. “Six.”

“My brother is just about your age.” I gave him a smile. “He used to hate heroes.”

“How can you hate heroes?!”

“My parents were heroes.” I explained, sitting him down with some other kids. “Have you heard of Water Hose?”

“No.” Chorused most of the kids.

“They were great heroes. But there was a villain that was too strong for them.” The memories of them in the morgue flooded my brain again, but I kept much better control over my quirk. “That’s why heroes need to work together.”

A burst of flame and air whooshed up from where the fight was taking place. The kids all gasped.

“Like that! When heroes work together, we can do incredible things.”

“Woah!”

“So cool!”

The kids stared in awe, and I couldn’t help but smile at their faces.

“Dew Drop!”

Kaminari waved as his group crested over a hill, two people in tow.

I ran over, eyes on the two with them. “How injured are you? Can you walk?”

“Very mild injuries.” The woman said, giving me a smile. “Thank you, Dew Drop.”

I started giggling. “Oh, that’s not - um. I haven’t picked a hero name yet, that’s just a nickname.”

“Oh! Apologies.”

“It’s alright!” I made a water slide down to the first aid station. “Let’s get you down there.”

As soon as the two of them reached the others, a buzzer sounded.

“Um, yeah, so at this time, all of the HUC members who were deployed have been rescued from the disaster zone.”

“We were the last ones?”

“It may seem anticlimactic, but with this, the provisional licensing exam has officially been completed. After we tally the scores, we will announce the results here in the arena. Anyone injured should go to the infirmary. The rest of you are free to change clothes and wait wherever you like.”

I could see a few kids tugging on Yao-Momo too. She brought them over to the group in front of me.

“I know they’re HUC members, but they’re still kids.” She gave them a pretty smile. “It’s strange.”

“It is.” The kids started to get gathered up. “Let’s get out of these outfits.”

“But I like this outfit on you!” Kaminari frowned, trapping me in his arms again. “And you said Hatsume made it comfy.”

I rolled my eyes, but there was a smile on my face. “Yeah, but I’m still more comfy in my regular clothes. Tight is not my thing.”

“Tell me about it!” Uraraka pinched at her outfit.

Giving Kami a quick peck on the cheek, I untangled myself from his arms. “I’ll be right back. You should change too.”

He flexed his arms. “Come on, you know you like me like this.”

“Exactly! I don’t want to share.”

He blushed as I walked off with the girls. Uraraka stared at me with wide eyes.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Just…flirt like that?” She pressed her fists against her cheeks and shook her head. “I can’t do that, I get so flustered.”

“I mean it helps that I know he’s just as into me.” I pointed out. “And my ex had been my best friend, so we just got close without realizing it.”

“So I should be friends with him first?”

A teasing grin spread across my face. “With who exactly?”

Her face turned bright red. “Absolutely no one!”

“I think being friends with absolutely no one would help, yeah.” I gave her a wink and her face got even redder.

Momo was smiling too, but she was doing a much better job of hiding it.

We quickly changed out of our costumes and back into our street clothes.

Everyone gathered up around the stage, the classes sticking with each other. I nodded to Shindo, who gave me a nod back. The two of us had gained mutual respect for each other over the rescue portion. I wouldn’t mind working with him in the future as a pro.

“Okay everyone.” The announcer spoke up, getting our attention. “Thanks for your hard work in today’s exam. Now before I announce the results, I should probably explain the way we evaluated you.”

I started tuning him out again, catching the basics. We were docked points if we made mistakes. Once the list of names went up, I was more than a little happy to see my name.

“I did it!”

More cries of victory came from my classmates. Kaminari spun me around, laughing. “We killed it!”

Bakugo steamed close by and I looked to see that neither him nor Todoroki had made it.

“Should’ve been more careful with what you said.” Kaminari said to Bakugo. “Words are important, you know.”

I let go of him, hiding behind Mina as I waited for the explosion. Kaminari might’ve been my boyfriend, but I didn’t have a death wish like he apparently did.

“Shut your mouth before I murder you.”

A squeal from the microphone got our attention again. “So, next we’ll give you the printouts of your results. They include a breakdown of your scores, so you’ll know exactly what areas you need to improve going forward.”

“Here you go.” A man in a suit handed me a piece of paper.

Most of it was blank, except for the 100 at the top.

“We had one participant exceed in the rescue portion, losing no points.” The announcer waved his hand and names disappeared. Mine flashed up, filling the screen. “Congratulations to Nima Kota for reaching a first for this test.”

The entire class turned to look at me, which meant the other classes did too. My face felt hot as I waved to everyone.

“I hate all this attention.” I whispered to Kaminari and Mina, who were the closest.

I was saved by the announcer moving on, talking about how those of us who made it could use our quirks out in the field, but only during an emergency. He also told us that we’d be watched now, as they needed as many pros in the field as possible now that All Might was no longer available.

We also heard that those who failed would get a chance to get their licenses as well, once they passed a new test.

“Isn’t that great, Todoroki?” I heard Midoriya ask.

He nodded, and I saw Mineta start saying something, but he was cut off as Iida grabbed his face.

“If you want help, let us know.” I chimed in. “You’ve been so nice to help me train, I’d love to return the favor.”

“Since you lost no points in the rescue mission, it would be wise to learn from you.”

“Please proceed in an orderly fashion to the lobby. We will be taking your pictures and giving you your licenses there.”

As we walked to the lobby, Shindo pulled me aside. Kaminari followed, fingers sparking a little.

“Bug, relax.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to tell you that if you can become a better fighter, you’re definitely going to be in the top ten.” He cracked his knuckles. “At the very least, you’ll be the best rescue hero out there.”

“Thanks. But I was just following my training.”

“Whoever trained you did well.”

He walked off, joining up with his class. Kaminari put an arm around my shoulders, and I could hear him mumbling. I put an arm around his waist, pulling him into a hug.

“Bug, you don’t have to worry about me.” My words were muffled as I nuzzled into his chest. “You’re the only one for me. I’d choose you over everyone else, every time.”

“Was that a Pokemon joke?”

Giggling, I pinched his cheek. “My very own Pikachu.”

“God, do not call me that.” He groaned. We started walking to catch up with our class. “If Bakugo hears that, it’ll be my nickname forever.”

“I mean, it’s better than Dunce Face.”

“HURRY UP!”

Speak of the devil.

Bakugo glared over at the two of us. “Move it. I want to leave.”

“Okay, okay.”

We got in one of the four lines for photos. It moved pretty quickly. Kaminari gave me a wet kiss on the forehead just before my turn.

“You look so cute when you’re blushing.” He said as he joined me.

Our cards got processed, and we headed to the table to grab them.

One of the ladies at the table looked up at me. “You don’t have a hero name registered. We need one for your license. Of course you can change it at any time, but it will take at least a week for the new license to get to you.”

A memory popped into my head.

“You know, once we’re heroes, we’ll need hero names.” I said, poking my boyfriend. “You’ve gotta have a good one. Like All Might, or Midnight.”

He rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you come up with mine?”

“Fine. But you have to come up with mine.”

“Riptide.”

The lady at the table nodded, typing it into the computer. A few minutes later, I was holding my license. I had a huge smile on my face, and my cheeks were only slightly pink.

“Why Riptide?” Kaminari asked as we headed back to the bus.

“My ex gave me the name. He said it was because people underestimated me, but I could be deadly, given the chance.” I shrugged. “It’s a good name, and he has a point.”

“I can’t wait to see that deadly side of yours.”

“Everyone get on the bus.” Aizawa said, leaning against the side of it. “We’re leaving.”

“Yes sir!”

[janblog]

Premium Rush: "doing this solo again" edition

THIS WILL HAVE SPOILERS. GO WATCH THE MOVIE. IT'S GOOD.

summary shamelessly stolen from wikipedia:

Premium Rush is a 2012 American action thriller film directed by David Koepp and written by Koepp and John Kamps. The film stars Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Michael Shannon, Dania Ramirez, and Jamie Chung. It follows a bicycle messenger chased around New York City by a corrupt police officer who wants an envelope the messenger has. It was released on August 24, 2012 by Columbia Pictures.

Premium Rush shows some examples of Social and Political Stratification and Global Inequalities. (precisely why I chose it for this project, totally not because I wanted to watch this movie again)

lets look into that.

article 1: Social Stratification

short summary: social stratification is essentially putting things into groups or classes, socially

A while ago, some dude named Max Weber theorized that class, status, and power are the three components of stratification. This theory is called (surprise!) the Three-Component Theory. In Premium Rush, we can see that the antagonist, Robert Monday (Michael Shannon) uses his power as a police officer to be corrupt. Being that he willingly runs around in a suit (those things are expensive and you willingly choose to SWEAT IN THOSE?), it's safe to say that he would be in the middle class. People usually do what he says because he flaunts his police officer badge as a status symbol. He also uses his being a policeman to employ goons to do his bidding, showing his power in the NYPD.

article 1.5: Social Desirables

I wasn't really sure whether to make this its own article or not, so it's just 1.5 now

Social Desirables, or Social Desirability Bias, is where people do things in order to be desired by people. like when you say you liked a certain boyband just to be friends with a girl. Well, in the movie, there are very little instances of this, so I had to scour the movie for a modicum of social desirability bias. (not that I'm complaining, it's a good movie.)

article 2: social mobility

social mobility is when one person's social status shifts, for better or for worse, or for no positive or negative outcome at all. (it really depends)

In the beginnings of the movie, the protagonist, Wilee (Levitt) is at a relatively low point in his career. His jobs get stolen (he's a bike messenger, delivering stuff from people to other people.) by Manny (Wolé Parks), who has also stolen his girlfriend, Vanessa. He then gets a job to deliver an envelope to somewhere in chinatown. This starts the main storyline of the movie, and in true movie fashion, it only takes a day. He then gets chased around by Monday (Shannon), who needs that ticket to repay his debt to a gambling place. (did I mention the envelope has a ticket that ensures the passage of the son of Vanessa's Roommate, played by Jamie Chung? I'm sure I did.)

On the other side of the field, we have Robert Monday, who figuratively is pretty high on the social mobility ladder. He's a police officer, which sets him high on that ladder as someone who should be respected (or in this case, feared). At the end of the movie, Monday shifts from being figuratively up to literally down. dead. I mean he dies in the end. he gets shot. with a gun. in the ba-

article 2.5/1.5.2: class system

this should have been back in article 1, but this ties in to article 2, trust me.

a Class System is a kind of social stratification wherein a person either is born into a certain class, or gains that class due to circumstance. Now, since the movie is set in real life, the class system is based on Wealth, Power, and Prestige. We've already established that Monday is middle class, with all his suit-running antics and wasting of a perfectly good burrito.

Now, social mobility states that Wilee moves from being in a bad spot, to being essentially the hero of Nima (Chung)'s life, granting her son passage (albeit illegal, but it's in good spirit) to the US. This moves him from the working class, to....

... the working class. He doesn't really move into a different class, but why should he? He likes that job, and biking. He can't stop, nor does he want to.

As for the antagonist, Monday, he moves from middle class to...

...six feet under. he's dead.

article 3: globalization

this is where we actually discuss the plot of the movie

Globalization is the growing interdependence of the world's economies, cultures, and populations, brought about by cross-border trade in goods and services, technology, and flows of investment, people, and information.

TL;DR: one world one people

This wasn't caused by the events of the movie, but globalization has brought literally everyone to the USA, mainly Chinese people. This is why Chinatown exists.

New York City is home to the largest and most prominent ethnic group of Chinese people outside of Asia. There are 628 thousand Chinese people in NYC alone. Even across the US, there are multiple Chinatowns, like the more known San Francisco Chinatown. Seeing the current state of China, (*cough cough social credit system cough cough*) I'd wager global interactions between countries like the US and China lack the globalization aspect of global interactions, but hopefully soon it'll get better.

article 3.5: global inequalities

The world is an unequal place. It means that not everybody has the same access to the same rights, opportunities, or quality of life.

The entire plot of the movie is driven by the fact that Nima (Chung) is being denied the ability to have her son sent over to the US on her student visa. In order to counter this act of inequality, Nima has to resort to illegal methods, case in point, having her son shipped via shuttle. The ticket that Wilee delivers ensures the passage of her son onto that shuttle. This ticket costs a great deal of money, which is why Monday needs it to settle his debt with multiple Chinese gambling areas. (they're not casinos, but I haven't the slightest on what to call them.)

At the end of the film, Wilee successfully delivers the ticket to Sister Cheng (played by Wai Ching Ho), and her son (and grandmother, presumably) is allowed onto the boat.

This plot brings into light the fact that America (and some other countries as well) are just outright denying and deporting immigrants back from whence they came, even if that place does not exist anymore (like homes, and stuff). Even if someone has the legal right to bring someone along, they might also just deny their rights. Due to this, people have to resort to illegal methods to bring the ones they love to them.

I cannot add anymore images, so I'm going to conclude this review.

Premium Rush is a lovely movie about dangerous biking at fast speeds, migrating to America, and wastefully throwing burritos on the ground. It's got a solid story, well-shot scenes, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt (that dude is cool.) The social cues present in the film also brings light onto how some parts of the government are corrupt and will deny people of their rights, leading those people to pursue illegal methods. For a project made in less than a day, at may 15 2021, by a kid listening to drum & bass frantically trying to do all his group projects by himself because no one wants to choose him as a groupmate, its a good movie to talk about. This blog, this post, really shows to the world the fact that no matter what the subject matter is, people can find things that talk about a certain topic, even if the writers and directors did not mean it to be so.

Thanks for reading.

- Jan Anthony Genson.

[kuno-chan]

Sea of Chains - Ch. 37, Experience

Rating: T

Summary:Years after the events of Anchor, Captain Kai and Jinora Gyatso remain famous names on the seas and their children are literally born pirates. Now, their daughter, Nima, is becoming a little too pirate for comfort. When trouble with Captain Quil of the Blood Moon Pirates turns tragic, Nima is viciously dragged into what can only be be described as every parent’s worst nightmare.

Please consider reviewing on fanfiction.net

--

“His left arm?”

Nima blanched. Dan didn’t quite blame her.

Janje nodded grimly. Then, Dan had saw and he knew. The color it was turning, the sickly look of it and the way the blood oozed, another color not decidedly blood with it. Poison. How fast it was travelling, he didn’t know, but it was either his arm or his death.

“His left him and we’ll see about the use of one of his legs. It’s not responding to much, right now,” Janje said. “We’ll have to see. Scuse me, gotta check on him.”

Janje squeezed Nima’s shoulder. For a while, Dan hadn’t pulled away from Nima. Even after they dragged themselves onto the ship. He didn’t really know why, but perhaps even he could admit that she’d scared the living shit out of him when she’d gone back into that tower.

For that bastard, no less. He wasn’t about to ring her up for it. It was clear that she was doing that herself.

He could see it in her face.

“I made a mistake,” she said quietly. To him or more for herself, he wasn’t sure.

At first, Dan said nothing. “It’s over now.”

“He’s going to lose an arm--”

“Because of his own actions.” He felt bad for the guy, but it was the truth. “If anything, you might have saved his life by shooting that thing in the eye. A few of our lives, actually.”

When she said nothing, he continued.

“Nima.”

She looked at him, perhaps startled by the use of her name. He didn’t use it very often, did he? No, he supposed he didn’t. He kept her gaze for a moment before she looked away.

“I made a mistake going back in there. I-I thought… I still don’t know. Is it right to just leave people to die?”

Icho had deserved what he it. Dan had kept the worst of it form her eyes, kept that image of the naga eating the bastard from burning into her mind. Dan would never forget it. On the way up to the ship, Nima had told him what Icho had said to her. Quite frankly, there was little space for pity for for asshole. If the naga hadn’t gotten to him first, Dan would have slit his throat for pushing Nima like that. He’d used her as bait and Dan’s heart had stopped dead for a half second. A half second nearly too long. Thanks the gods the naga had seen Icho and not Nima. Thank them for her ability to move fast when it counted.

“He was already dead when she did it,” Dan told her. “He was gone. He didn’t feel it.”

“He deserved it,” she said, hugging herself.

“He did. But I know that’s not what you need to hear.”

She looked up at him, walking over to her, eyes bright. “I shouldn’t feel bad. Dan, he was terrible. I should have left him there. The things he said-- I made a mistake. I’m sorry.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry. That was so st-”

Dan put a hand on her shoulder before he knew what he was doing. “Stop.”

She looked up at him in question. He almost pulled back himself, but kept his composure and looked at her. She needed this, he told himself. To touch something other than herself.

“You’re not used to death. Let alone one like that. Whether he deserved it or not is irrelevant as far as whether you’re allowed to balk at it or not. You can hate it and he can still deserve it. For what it’s worth, he brought it on himself.” He debated on telling her the next part. “Even if he had gotten away, I would have found him and killed him anyway for that stunt.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“No?”

Nima shook her head. “Would I have been able to?”

A fair assessment. “No.”

Nima tried to smile. “My dad did that sometimes. He just didn’t do it in front of me, but I know he would do it when I didn’t see. He tried to, at least. To people who wanted to hurt other people.”

For a pirate, Dan wondered what kind of world Nima had lived in. What kind of world her family had sculpted around her. What had they shielded her from that she still had this innocence to her. Perhaps, he just didn’t quite expect the daughter of a pirate to be so… this.

He didn’t quite know what to call this.

She couldn’t save everybody. Couldn’t keep trying to or she was going to end up in the ground herself, but Dan had a feeling she knew that already. Or was trying to understand it. Struggled to, ultimately. That heart of hers beat for life wildly. It lashed out like death like the tides on a swimmer that did not belong in the sea.

“It’s okay to hate killing and death,” he said quietly. “You’re not used to it.”

“I should be.”

He took a minute to answer. “No, you shouldn’t.”

“Thank you for saving me,” she said turning to him, her eyes soft. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Actually, I did.”

Nima rubbed her arm and he realized how that probably came out. “Right... right. It’s your job.” She flashed a smile as she made to leave. “I’m going to go check on Foba. I’ll find you later.”

He… hadn’t quite meant it like that.

-:-:-:-

Nima pushed Dan from her mind. Partially because there was a pang from being reminded of his last words to her. Partially because upon entering the infirmity, watching Foba lay there, an arm that seemed all but completely ruined, blackened and green, and a leg that didn’t really seem all that much better put everything from her mind. Everything but the sight before her.

It was painful, she could tell, and Foba was probably not going to sleep much if at all without pain medication. At least a few herbs to ease it.

She doubted anything was going to help much.

Nima sat down in the chair at his bedside and reached a hand out to his good one. He opened pained eyes to look at who had taken his hand.

“It doesn’t hurt if I do that, does it?” she asked.

He shook his head, his lips tight. “...they’re going to have to cut them off, aren’t they?”

Nima opened her mouth to say something, but closed it. She nodded instead.

Foba took a deep shuddering breath that NIma felt to her core. His life was going to change from here on as he knew it. That was his writing arm, too. Would he ever learn to write again?

Could he?

Nima bowed her head, her eyes stinging. “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have brought us here. I--”

Foba squeezed her hand. She looked up to see him watching the ceiling. “No… I did this.”

“Foba--”

“The Naga killed my parents.” She said nothing. “But I’m sure you guessed that by now. I did this to myself.”

“Foba, I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologizing, it’s okay. Like I said, I did this to myself. If anything, it’s me who should be asking you to forgive me. I put everyone in danger back there... I’m okay with this. Losing my arm. It felt good to put a sword in it. Felt even better to see you take their eye out. You know, when I went there I didn’t even want to fight it. I just… I just wanted to see it. I needed to know for sure. I remember when I was a boy and nobody believe the crew, but I did and now I know. It’s all I’ve wanted for years.”

“Why?” The question came out faster than Nima could stop it.

“Because it ate me up. Every day I wondered… was it a monster or was it someone else? Other pirates and my parent’s crew just didn’t want to admit it so they wouldn’t lose face? Did my parents find treasure and the crew had killed them for it, then delivered the bodies to avoid retaliation?” Foba swallowed hard. “But I saw it. I saw The Naga and now I know.”

“You wanted to move on.” It was like a small ember in Nima’s brain lit. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

It was too painful for him to shrug. He just shook his head. “You know, those things that are just too painful to talk about? You’d walk across a bed of nails before you talked about how it tore you up inside.”

Nima stayed with him for a while. He didn’t say anymore more, but she could see the silver lining his eyes. The tears that threatened to leak. She wondered what might happen with him now that his writing arm would be gone, but she didn’t have the heart nor the chance to ask him as Janje came in with Tehan and Koika. It was time.

Nima left as they began to sterilize their tools.

-:-:-:-:-

She heard the bubbles of laughter from around the door and when she came around the other side of it, Kehra was sitting in a dub of water, splashing and playing as Ranaka looked on. Ranaka gave her a weak grin. “I see you’re alright.”

Nima tried to smile, but she could tell just from the look in Ranaka’s eyes and the way her smile couldn’t totally reach them that she knew. “I’m sorry--”

Ranaka put up a hand. “I love Foba. I do. He’s like my brother,” she said. “But he lost himself his own and he knows it.”

Nima didn’t have a reply to that. It sounded so… cold, but after what she had experienced in the castle, what really was anything anymore? Was it really cold or was it the truth? Or both?

“I had no idea about the whole thing with his parents until today. Not in detail, at least. But that doesn’t mean you're to blame for him losing his arm. We all agreed to go with you. We knew the risks. Hell, we were half expecting some other crew to already have set up camp there or something and we might have to fight.”

Nima shifted on her feet. “But you know if we hadn’t come here because of me then Foba would be fine. Oh, and let’s not forget my stupidity.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I haven’t,” Ranaka quipped. Nima frowned. “I didn’t say you were off the hook. Gods only know why you would go in for that piece of shit, but your heart is bigger then mine, I suppose. Or maybe I just have seen more than you. Icho was never going to be a decent person.”

“I never thought he’d be a decent person…” Nima muttered.

“Then why, go in?”

Again, Nima said nothing. She didn’t know how to reply to that one. How did you put into words that it was just a compulsion. To help, to do. To do and then to worry.

And look where it had gotten her.

Whatever Ranaka saw on her face, she sighed. She straightened herself out and stood up, grabbing Kehra from her tub and handing over to Nima in a dry towel. Kehra cooed and yawned. “Listen, I don’t exactly know why you might have done that. I’m not you. But I do know I don’t want to see my friend die. Do me a favor?”

Nima adjusted Kehra in her arms, coddling her. “What’s that?”

“Stop nearly killing yourself for men who don’t deserve that kind of kindness?”

When Nima opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out, Ranaka clapped her shoulder as she left. “By the way, your little bundle of sharp teeth and joy had two raw trout while you were gone. She’s good for a while.”

She left and Nima looked down at Kehra, ready to fall asleep in her arms, a chubby cheek. “Hey,” Nima whispered to her. “Is that right? You ate a lot? Is it nap time?”

Kehra sleepily babbled to her in response, a tiny smile, but ultimately rested her cheek back on Nima’s chest. Nap time was indeed going to win out today. If nothing would make her feel better today, at least this surprisingly warm, sleepy tiny siren in her arms would make her feel useful.

Nima found herself in bed, falling asleep to the sound of Kehra’s breathing against her chest.

-:-:-:-

Nima woke up before Kehra did.

Did siren babies need more sleep than human babies? She would need to look that up. There was a knock at the door and then a creak. Nima looked up.

Hyun popped his head in and all the relief that he must have been waiting for flooded his features. He came in, setting a tray down on the nearby table and closed the door behind him. “Oh, good. You’re awake.”

“I’m fine,” Nima told him quietly. “Just took a nap.”

She sat up, letting Kehra still cuddle and slumber in the little bed nest Nima had made for her. Hyun’s lips twitched into a smile when he came over to look at Kehra comfortable as she could possibly be. “You’d be a good mom.”

“My brother and sister are five years younger than me. I got to watch my mom put them to sleep. Babies like to sleep. I tend to agree with them.”

Hyun snorted. “Wait till your my age, girlie.”

Either they were too loud or siren babies had very good hearing because a snuffle and a good yawn later, Kehra was blinking up at them both. Nima helped her sit up. “Did you have a nice nap?”

“Sorry, kid. Did I wake her up?”

“It’s okay,” Nima said, fixing Kehra’s dark hair. “I think it was time for her to get up now. I don’t know how long siren babies should sleep for, but we had a pretty long nape. Didn’t we?”

Kehra cooed, grasping at Nima’s finger brushing her cheek.

“You should go make some kids with The Big Grump. They’d be the prettiest assholes around.” Hyun cackled at the noise and the face she made at him. “Well, anyhow, I brought you some tea. Hope you like ginseng.”

Nima blinked. She smiled at him. “Thanks, Hyun. To be really honest, I don’t turn down much if I can eat it or drink it… though I never do anything for you and you’re always doing something for me. I ought to change that.”

“Funny of you to assume you haven’t already,” he chuckled. Before she could ask him what he meant, he said, “Besides, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to do anything for me. I’m a bit like your friend, The Tree of Solace down the hall. It gets a bit awkward for me when people try to be too nice to me all the time.”

“Just means you’re not used to it.”

Hyun shrugged. “I’ve got enough to be happy with. Besides, you’ve got enough on your plate.”

Nima sighed. “Tell me about it.” She looked down at him, reminded of the last thing that had been added to it. “How’s Foba?”

Hyun’s lips tightened. “Resting. Janje gave him some medicine for the pain… he’ll be alright, kid. From what I understand, Ran gave you all the advice I probably could give.”

Nima nodded numbly.

“You know, girlie, I told you that you’ve done enough for me already,” he said, rubbing the back of his arms. “And it’s true. It’s nice to know another street performer. Kind of reminds me of what I used to live for before I really got into this whole pirating thing. You’re good to have around. I like having you around.”

Nima realized what he was saying. What he was trying to do. She could have hugged him even if she still did feel terrible. “Well, I’m not sure I remember all the steps to that dance of yours very well. Think you could show me again?”

It was his turn to blink, the happiness that dawned on him, in spite of everything around them and after everything that had happened that day was enough to put some sort of spark in her chest. “Coure’, kiddo. O’course I can do that for you.”

Their dancing pleased Kehra, entranced by whatever funny human ritual this was, so they danced again for a time.

-:-:-:-

Skoochy normally never got into anyone’s business on the ship. Not on purpose, anyway.

No, that wasn’t really his style.

But it’d been a few days since Jinora had cried next to him like that. He’d hugged her until she told him that she was fine -- he didn’t believe her -- and said she was going to bed. Her mood didn’t seem to improve the next day. Or the next. On top of it all, Kai hadn’t been joining Skoochy for their morning smoke either. Now, Skoochy didn’t condone smoking, exactly. It was more of a thing he just couldn’t shake than a thing he wanted to do necessarily and he didn’t want Cap smoking himself to death or anything. But the abrupt change just wasn’t… good.

It gave Skoochy the chills.

Were Jinora and the Cap communicating at all?

That was what he’d set himself to find out when he knocked on the door of Kai’s study. Kai didn’t even seem to notice. Skoochy knocked harder, more deliberately this time.

Kai looked down, a hint of a frown on his lips. “What is it, Skooch?”

“You going to eat anytime today?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure. I believe that.” Skoochy’s boots were audible as he crossed the room to place himself in front of his captain’s desk. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Skooch, I said I’m fine,” Kai said firmly. “I’m looking over these maps. Maybe there’s something here about that might point to where Nima might have gone. Old places we used to go--”

“Jinora already has a lead, remember? That’s why we’re sailing for Hidama?” Skoochy crossed his arms. He took the book rom Kai’s desk and snapped it shut.

Kai immediately stood up. “Skooch, what do you--”

“I want you to get a hold of your damn self,” Skoochy snapped. “Take a smoke break, sleep, eat, do something beside hole yourself up in here while your wife cries by herself.”

Kai paused. He searched Skoochy’s face. “Gyatso’s been crying?”

“The fact that you’re asking me that is enough to make me want to hit you.” Skoochy threw the atlas aside. “Look at you. You’re a mess. I normally don’t get on your case. About anything. I know it’s been hard for you, but you’re not the only one dealing with stuff here. It scares me half to death that you didn’t even realize that she’s been crying way more lately. You’re always the first to notice.”

Kai plopped himself down in his chair, rubbing his forehead. Thickly, he said, “I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t.” Skoochy sat himself in the chair across from him. “And I know Nima’s… situation is a nightmare. I get it… maybe I don’t feel it like you, but I get it. But we need you, too. The twins need you. And Jinora’s feeling pretty alone right now, too. I’m not going to sit here an sugar coat anything for you, man. You need to pull yourself together.”

Kai nodded numbly, a scathing look in his eyes. Skoochy knew that look. “I… this is my fault. I-- You know, sometimes, it’s hard to look at Gyatso.”

Skoochy blinked.

“She looks so much like Nima.” Kai laid his head back on his chair. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t been paying attention to her. Maybe I’m just being selfish.”

Skoochy sighed and sat back as well. “That’s okay.”

“It’s not--”

“You’re human, Kai. And Jinora will understand when you go see her. She gets it. But, you know, you can’t do this to yourself. You can’t just sit in here and wither away. We can’t let you do that. I’m not going to let you do that. Now, if you want some direction, the first thing you can do is get off your ass and go get something to eat. Then, maybe find your wife and go take a nap.” Skoochy swallowed. “You’re scaring me, Cap.”

“Don’t be scared. Withering away was never really my style of dying anyway, remember?” Kai snorted as he got up.

“Okay, a little dark, but I’ll take any humor I can get out of you, I guess.” Skoochy clapped him on the back as they left left the room.

“...Thanks, Skooch. Not just for me, but for being there for Gyatso.”

“What else am I here for?”

-:-:-:-

One of the things Nima never had to deal growing up, really, was when Rama and Taani got fussy as babies. At the time, she was practically still a baby herself, only a child of five at the time of their births. Plus, the twins had a plethora of other people who got to deal with any fussiness that came with two babies. Rama more so than Taani. Taani had always been rather quiet, honestly.

But Kehra was not necessarily quiet. She wasn’t loud, but she was squirmy and did not want to be in her tub. She didn’t want Nima to hold her. She didn’t want Nima to put her down.

Nima ran a hand through her hair, nearly whimpering at the sight and sound of Kehra crying. “What is it? I fed you, I changed you, I put you in your tub and I’ve tried playing with you. I don’t know what else you could possibly want.”

Kehra kept crying and Nima nearly started doing the same.

The door opened and shut behind her. Nima knew Dan’s footsteps before he asked, “Are you coming in to port with us today or are you staying here? The captain wants to know.” He paused. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s crying.”

“I can see that. Why?”

Nima threw her hands up and stood up. “I don’t know. I have no idea why she’s crying. I’ve done everything. I’ve fed her. I’ve changed her. I’ve played with her and she doesn’t want to be in her tub right now. If I carry her, she cries. If I put her down, she cries.”

“Have you tried patting her while you rock her?”

“I’ve already tried rocking her to sleep?”

“I said patting her while you rock her to sleep?”

“...no. No, I haven’t been patting her.”

Dan nodded to Kehra, still crying and fussing, for Nima to pick her up again. “Wrap her in that blanket, too. The one you let her and her mother use. And make sure your patting had a rhythm.”

A pang of guilt struck Nima, but she focused on what he was telling her and wrapped Kehra in a wool blanket Kahal had been lended by the crew. After a few minutes of rocking and gentle patting, Kehra had stopped crying, falling fast asleep in Nima’s arms. Nima eyed him after placing Kehra in the little basket that acted as her makeshift crib.

“How did you know to do that?” She asked him.

Dan glanced at her. “Siren babies are conceived in a womb just like human babies. The patting is like their mother’s heartbeat. She probably just misses her mother. The patting and the blanket with her mother’s scent on it made her feel safe.”

Again, Nima ignored the pang of guilt. She blinked at Dan. “Your good with kids.” It was less of a question and more of a statement.

Dan looked at her as he pulled up his boots. “I have experience with them.”

“Really?”

“None of my own,” he added. “But yes. I do have experiences with babies.”

Nima considered what to say. Whether to tease him because he’d been holding that kind of information back, perhaps, as a way of distancing himself or making himself seem colder than he really was. Or, if she should just leave it alone.

She opted for some form of the latter.

“That’s sweet,” Nima said as she left the room to tell Koika that she would join them after Kehra woke up. “I bet you make them feel really safe.”

She didn’t stick around to see how he reacted to that.

--

Whoo, first chapter of the new year! Thank you guys for your patience. I know these chapters aren't coming as fast as they used to, but I'm keeping them coming as I can. School is also about to start for me, so, please keep that in mind, but they will continue to come!

I have to say Ranaka and Nima's scene was probably my favorite here. Almost unexpectedly because it was a scene that just kind of happened on it's own. And I really ended up liking it. But, I'd love to hear what you guys think, too. As always, you guys know I love those reviews!

Truly, your comments and reviews are what really keep me going and keep this story up and running. Thank you for reading! Tune in for next chapter!

[wetwareproblem]

World building: ciel

B A S I C S

full name: Transfinity-rev.j-build3494/M, but it’s a mouthful and she’s not attached to it. Ciel will do.

gender: Still not sure she understands gender, really, but presents femme.

sexuality: Still figuring that out too. Definitely Nimasexual at least.

pronouns: She/Her

O T H E R S

family: Technically the rest of the Transfinity line, but does it count if you’ve never met them?

birthplace: Not exactly applicable, but I guess a server in the Tharsis Terraforming Office?

job: Revolutionary, hacker, body designer, occasionally climatologist and terraforming consultant.

phobias: Memory editing. It was used to keep her compliant for far too long. Never again.

guilty pleasures: She actually kinda loves being pampered at Nima’s place. They have real fruit!

M O R A L S

morality alignment?: Chaotic good.

sins - Pride. Ciel is very possibly the best hacker on the planet and she knows it - which can be An Issue when someone catches her unaware, or when she makes a mistake in her code and accidentally deletes a hypercorporation.

virtues - Diligence. She will not stop until Mars is free.

T H I S - O R - T H A T

introvert/extrovert: Introverted by nature, but her people have been good for drawing her out of her shell.

organized/disorganized: You’d think that a highly-technical AI would be organized, wouldn’t you. You’d be wrong.

close minded/open-minded: Open-minded as a general rule, but firmly closed to those who would align themselves with the corps.

calm/anxious: She’s got some anxiety issues, largely centered around piling as much responsibility on herself as she can and then worrying about failing.

disagreeable/agreeable: Generally pretty agreeable; she’ll go with the flow and use her skills to support the rest of her team.

cautious/reckless: I’d have to say reckless. Her price and overconfidence have gotten her into Deep Shit a few times, and killed twice.

patient/impatient: Impatient. People are so slow! She’s gotta do three or four things at once just to keep from running ahead.

outspoken/reserved: Outspoken, though she’ll generally choose her time and place. No room for silence in the revolution, but you can’t take down the corps from cold storage.

leader/follower: Follower. She’s more about supporting other people’s initiatives than launching her own.

empathetic/unemphatic: Distressingly empathetic, though her understanding of human mentality can use some work.

optimistic/pessimistic: Optimistic! Mars will be free, her loved ones will be safe.

traditional/modern: "Tradition” is another word for “We haven’t adapted to the modern world.”

hard-working/lazy: Hard-working; honestly she’s got more projects on the go at any one time than she can really handle.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S

otp: Nima, her dragon-themed enby datemate.

ot3: Jenn, the anarchist catgirl. But really it’s an OT4.5, including Taylor the sensual psychic and Chelsea the Modern Modern Prometheus.

brotp: Once we cross off everyone who’s either a) her or b) dating her... probably Roy the body-shop guy. He’s a good friend, always comes through in a pinch, and blessedly chill.

notp: Petrov, the team’s handler. Dude likes to keep them in the dark a bit too much for her tastes.

[followusontweeters]

Against the Wind - Zasha fic - Chapter 6

Here is chapter 6 - Chapter 7 is in the works but warning it will a full smut chapter!

Zoe hated hospitals and doctors offices.  For the first year of their relationship, Zoe would accompany Rasha to her numerous doctor’s appointments and sit through every one of them.  She held her then girlfriend’s hand as they drew blood.  She wiped away tears as they injected her with yet another hormone.  She cuddled her when her muscles contracted from the artificial hormones.  She pressed ice packs to bruises that appeared from the injections.  She hated the pain that Rasha went through and she hated how the pregnancy that they both so desperately wanted seemed to be causing more pain on her wife.  She hoped that this appointment would  be a happy one, or at least on with no pain.  Sighing, she crossed her legs again and tapped her fingers nervously.  “How are you so calm?”  She whispered to Rasha who was flipping through a magazine like they weren’t sitting in a waiting room and she didn’t have all of those terrible past experiences. “I stopped drinking coffee.”  Rasha replied wryly without looking up from the magazine.  “Maybe you should too.” Zoe grumbled and nudged Rasha with her foot until she looked at her.  “You’re mean.” Raising her eyebrows, Rasha shrugged.  “Truth hurts.”  She wiggled her eyebrows at her wife and flashed her a grin. “Mean and hormonal.”   Rasha rolled her eyes and pulled her wife next to her and planted a loud kiss on her forehead.  “You like me hormonal.”  She whispered, almost squealing with delight at Zoe’s reaction.  Calmly, Rasha sat back and went back to flipping through her magazine, but out of the corner of her eye, watching her wife wiggle uncomfortably on the chair.  Once Rasha’s name was called, Rasha stood up and almost skipped into the examination room, her hand in Zoe’s.   “We aren’t doing any like painful tests or anything?”  Zoe asked as they walked in and Rasha changed into the gown.  Despite her nerves about being here, Zoe couldn’t help but watch as her wife undressed.   “Do not know.”  Rasha admitted with a shrug, pulling on her gown.  She climbed onto the bed and reached for Zoe.  “Most women have not had as many appointments as I have had.”  She said honestly.  Pulling Zoe towards her, she leaned forward and gave her a soft kiss.  “But relax, everything has gone well so far...and it will keep going well.”  She said quietly.   Zoe exhaled shakily and nodded her head.  “Okay.  I’ll try.”  Kissing Rasha’s knuckles, she lowered her head and sighed as Rasha ran her fingers through her hair.  They sat in silence, comfortable for one, nervous for the other, until the doctor walked in.   The doctor was tall and thin, her auburn hair long and in loose waves around her face.  She had an easy demeanor that put Rasha and Zoe at ease.  “Hey beautifuls.”  She said with a smile, her blue eyes twinkling.  “Zoe, you look like you’re going to be sick.”  She commented, squeezing Zoe’s shoulder.  She sat down at the desk and gave the couple a smile.  “So, how are you feeling Rasha?” Rasha gave Zoe a smirk before looking back at their doctor.  “Better.  Much better.  I had a bit of a...situation yesterday…” “She passed out.”  Zoe interjected.  “I found her on the floor.”  She got up and paced around the room for a few minutes before standing behind Rasha with her arms crossed.   Their Doctor, Doctor Montgomery smiled gently and nodded.  “It happens in a lot of pregnancies, Zoe.”  She said looking up at Zoe.  “Remember, her body is working overtime and sometimes the blood doesn’t get to the brain as fast as it used to.” “And SHE is right HERE.”  Rasha reminded the two of them.  “See, I told you.  I am fine”  She grinned and rested her hands on her abdomen.  “Now tell me that my baby has ten fingers and ten toes.”  Her words were quick, her voice excited.   Doctor Montgomery grinned and looked between Rasha and Zoe.  “How about we look at your blood pressure first, Rasha?  And then we’ll go from there.” Making a face, Rasha thrust her arm out and waited until the cuff went around her arm.  She sat, unmoving, until the test came back and she looked up expectantly at Dr. Montgomery, her face falling as the older woman wrote down a few numbers.   “Your blood pressure is slightly higher than I want it, but not in the danger range yet.”  She said sitting next to Rasha.  “So at your next appointment we’ll look at it again, but right now keep being active, eating healthy and hopefully this is just you stressed out.”  She said before rolling up Rasha’s gown. “You should check out Zoe’s blood pressure.”  Rasha teased as she reached up for her wife, gripping her hand. A soft wooshing sound filled the room and both women frowned.  “That sounds like a washing machine.”  Zoe commented as she looked at the ultrasound screen.  It was filled with blacks, squiggly lines and moving shapes. “That,”  Dr. Montgomery said with a grin. “Is your baby’s heartbeat.  Nice and strong.”  She moved the wand around a bit and sighed.  “Still too early ladies to tell a gender.  This little one is shy and won’t show me anything.”  She looked around for a little while longer before wiping off Rasha’s belly.  “I will give you a print out of the ultrasound today - with a few extra copies - but I also want you to do a urine test.”  She told Rasha who sat up and sighed.   “One of the gross orange buckets?”  She whined finishing wiping the gel off her abdomen and placed the towel to the side. “Sorry honey, yes.  I want to make sure that the blood pressure is just a one time thing.”  Dr. Montgomery smiled and stood up.  “I will see you two in about three and a half weeks.  I’ll get Julie to book you an appointment - and pick up one of the brown bags on your way out.”  She said passing the pictures to Zoe. Once they were alone, Rasha hopped off the bed and changed back into her clothes.  They left the office, large brown paper bag in hand, and headed to the lunch they had planned with Mrs. Nahir and Mrs. Cardinal.   “This is the worst gift bag ever.”  Rasha commented as she tossed it in the back of Zoe’s SUV and climbed into the passenger seat.  She took Zoe’s hand and intertwined their fingers.  Every week they had been meeting up with Mrs. Cardinal and Mrs. Nahir for meals or sometimes just to visit.  Both women were excited about their upcoming ‘grandbaby’ but also knew that they were replacing parents lost.  Pulling into the parking lot, Zoe smiled at Rasha and leaned over, pressing a kiss on her temple, her lips lingering as Rasha ran her fingers through her wife’s hair.  After a few minutes of silence, Rasha pressed her hand to Zoe’s cheek and softly ran her thumb over the soft skin.  “Let’s go, darling.”  She said quietly as she unbuckled herself and straightened her coat as she slid out of the SUV.  She walked around the other side and wrapped her warm around Zoe’s waist, entering the restaurant.  It was a new Persian place that had opened but neither had visited yet.  They quickly spotted the two women and they slid into the booth.  Zoe pulled out the newest ultrasound and passed the two of them out to the women.  “They still can’t find the sex yet, but so far he or she is healthy.  And so is Rasha.”  Zoe said as she wrapped her arm around her wife. The chatter was caring and soft, the two older women fussing over Rasha and Zoe, inviting them over for meals, to come and clean their house, whatever that was needed. “So, Rasha, you look like you’re feeling better.”  Mrs. Cardinal commented with a soft smile. The smallest of the four women nodded as she picked at the meat and rice on her plate.  “I am.  And my tests all came back good.  My blood pressure was a bit higher than the doctor would have wanted, but I think that was because I was feeling anxious about Zoe being anxious.”  She said with a soft smile.  “But I am feeling better.  The morning sickness seems to have abated.”  Sipping the mint tea she ordered, the curly haired woman smiled softly and seemed to melt against her wife.  “And I am getting my energy back.”  She gently tickled Zoe’s side, who rolled her eyes in response. “She’s back picking on me.” The two older women broke down in laughter, both knowing better.  The meal progressed as did the conversation until they were all sipping tea and picking at the baklava that was ordered. “Have either of you thought about a baby shower?”  Nima asked, adjusting her hijab.  “We have been talking and it would be an honour to throw you two one.”  She said smiling.  “We can hold it at our house, but it would be a joint effort.” Kristine Cardinal nodded.  “We would invite everyone, have some games, have lots of food, and then have you two open presents!”  She grinned and reached over and squeezed Zoe’s hand.  “Everyone deserves a baby shower.” A flash of confusion, then appreciation washed over Zoe’s face.  “But...I’m not pregnant.”  She said quietly.   “Right, but that doesn’t make you any less of a mother.”  Nima said with a soft smile.  “Just because you are not the one carrying the baby does not mean that you are not the mother.”  She squeezed Zoe’s hands before looking between the women..  “So, what do you say?” Rasha grinned and looked towards Zoe.  “It is amazing that you two care about us enough to consider doing this for us.” The two women shrugged.  “It’s our pleasure.  We will give you the date once we figure things out and then start making a list of things that you need.  But don’t worry about a crib or a carseat.  That is something that we have discussed and you two can pick out the crib and carseat you want, but that is what our families will get you.”  Nima said as she turned to her friend and started to discuss.  It was a comfort for both Rasha and Zoe to know that they had family to support them, even if they weren’t family by blood.  Kristine and Zoe started to discuss Zoe’s job while Rasha and Nima slipped into Urdu speaking about Rasha’s pregnancy.  It wasn’t the way Rasha had imagined her pregnancy and life, when she was in Syria.  She had resigned herself to the fact that she would get married to a man, quite possibly once she was out of high school, and have many kids.  She would live her life unhappily, hidden deep inside the closet, never to have a chance to be who she really was and who she was meant to be.  Homosexuality was a crime fit for the death penalty in Syria and from the time Rasha knew she liked girls she knew that she would constantly live in fear.  Then came the civil war and she was displaced to Canada.  It was literally a new beginning and she still remembered the first time she saw Zoe.  She was wearing a cream blazer and the light pink top after her welcome address.  Rasha still remembered the way she felt after she spoke to Zoe for the first time.  She knew, right then and there, that she wanted to get to know Zoe better and needed her in her life. Glancing over at her wife, she squeezed her hand softly and rubbed her thumb over the back of her hand before continuing her conversation.   “So, have you two thought of any baby names yet?”  Kristine asked suddenly.  Rasha blinked and shook her head.   “Not exactly.  We decided that  if we have a boy they will have an English first name and a girl an Arabic first name.”  Rasha said with a shrug.  “Because Aisha is a much nicer name than AbdulNasir.”  She joked with a small smile.  “But we have not made a list or anything of potential names.” Zoe nodded.  “I mean, I’m sure we’ve both thought about some names, but we don’t have anything figured out yet.” Kristine shook her head.  “Well, you two should start really thinking.  Trust me, Grace was almost called Baby girl Cardinal because we couldn’t think of a name and my then husband wanted something REALLY cool like Boomer.”  She raised her eyebrows with a smirk.  “So, at least have a list.  And remember, it’s something the child has to live with. It might seem cool to have a kid named Lennon, Huxton, Jax or Atticus, but they get old fast.” “Atticus?”  Rasha whispered to Zoe and wrinkled her nose.  “We will NOT have a child named Atticus.  Or any of those names.”  Her hands pressed against her abdomen and sighed.  No way was she having a Huxton Rivas-Zuabi.  Or Jax. The sound of laughter filled the area around the table and Zoe kissed her wife’s cheek.  “We’ll make a list.”  She said with a grin.  “That doesn’t include Lennon.”

[spindle-and-nima]

Nima was so brave today she sniffed THREE people without freaking out and binkied a lot today

[footballghana]

FEATURE: How Ghana Academy is giving youngsters a Right to Dream

A place at the Right to Dream Academy in Ghana is the hot ticket for any aspiring footballer in West Africa.

That’s why, in a typical year, 25,000 children turn up to their 75 recruitment tournaments, desperate to get one of the 18 scholarships on offer.

“We are the sought-after destination for a talented young kid,” admits Joe Mulberry, the Director of Recruitment for Right to Dream and sister club FC Nordsjælland.

“We arrange recruitment tournaments within each community in Ghana. About 300 kids play in each, so it’s intense, but that’s the only way, within budget, we can assess so many players.”

The competition is fierce because the opportunities are unparalleled - not only in Africa, but probably further afield as well. When the Academy near Accra was founded by former Manchester United Africa scout Tom Vernon in 1999, it consisted of one dust pitch.

Now there are eight grass pitches, a gym, LEGO Innovation Studio, dormitories for 90 student-athletes, 60 staff and a Cambridge International School. It’s more than facilities that set Right to Dream apart though. The curriculum and commitment to the players is perhaps unique, for a number of reasons.

PATHWAY

The chosen few who make it through the rigorous recruitment process usually join Right to Dream at the age of 11. Each gets a five-year contract.

“We recruit once a year for the youngest age group and don’t look to swap or change existing players,” Mulberry explains. “They have a guarantee of their time, which settles them down into long-term goals in their development, which is really key.

“For a kid in any country - but especially in Ghana, where the opportunity at the Academy is massive and being released would be a big shock to their lives - giving them stability is really important.”

The Englishman himself has been at Right to Dream for a while, having joined full-time in 2004, shortly after he graduated from Aberystwyth University. He ended up in Ghana by chance, having Googled “coaching jobs abroad” and found the Academy on the second page of the results.

“That really was a lucky break,” he admits, “because this is a values-driven organisation where football benefits and social benefits can meet. People talk about being motivated by their work, but being truly motivated is a different thing."

https://youtu.be/vEPzWFzK0_o

Mulberry was promoted to his current role, which covers recruitment at both Right to Dream and FC Nordsjælland, in 2010. A big part of the job is Academy recruitment and he feel he has an ideal scenario, knowing his best players will have a clear pathway into professional football.

"As scouts, it’s really good to know players are going to be developed really well in a holistic and caring environment. It’s easy to bring a player in knowing they’re going to develop.”

In total, 35 graduates of the Right to Dream Academy are playing pro football in Europe and the MLS, with the most prominent being 28-year-old forward Abdul Majid, who is at Strasbourg, having played for the likes of Porto and Spartak Moscow.

The main pro football pathway leads to FC Nordsjælland, in the Danish Superliga, which Vernon bought with the help of investors in December 2015.

“Our overall strategic goal is to have minimal recruitment at senior level, with our first team being made up entirely of graduates from the Right to Dream and Nordsjælland Academies,” Mulberry says.

Currently, there are seven Right to Dream graduates in the Nordsjælland squad - Mohammed Kudus, Abdul Mumin, Isaac Atanga, Maxwell Woledzi, Ibrahim Sadiq, Clinton Answer and Francis Abu.

The average age of their squad is 21, the club operates sustainably and they currently sit seventh in the league, so it’s no surprise that Mulberry says “the strategy has worked well so far".

RECRUITMENT PROCESS

A unique project requires a unique recruitment process.

“A big focus is on getting Academy recruitment right, because this gives us an advantage over our competitors,” Mulberry admits.

At the recruitment tournaments, he and his scouts set a "high technical threshold” and look primarily for "game intelligence and understanding” from the players.

The level of those auditioning is generally higher than it would be at the same age in England.

A kid growing up in Ghana is in a better position as a young footballer before the ages of 12 and 13,” says Mulberry (pictured). “The weather allows them to play out every day and so does the culture - they’re playing out in the streets, with friends, with local teams.

“They’re just more active than their European counterparts as a general rule. At 12 and 13 things become more structured for the best players in both countries and that gap closes.”

Athleticism is a consideration, but not the priority.

“The physical side is a positive, but in that regard we’re mainly looking for exceptional attributes or de-selecting based on really low physical attributes,” Mulberry explains. "Really, it’s a side issue though, not at the forefront of the recruitment process. At such a young age it’s impossible to predict adult athletic performance”.

Having these big recruitment tournaments is unusual enough, never mind the fact that Mulberry and his staff select on both football and academic ability.

“We have a reduced cognitive ability test that everyone sits when they arrive for a tournament,” he says. “We do that because we recruit players for two pathways - professional and student-athlete.”

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

This dual selection process happens because graduates from Right to Dream go not only into pro football, but also into colleges and Universities. Many of those enter the US collegiate system and Right to Dream youngsters have received an estimated $45m of US scholarships in the last 12 years.

Some have gone to Ivy League colleges, while one, Ousseni Bouda, is currently at Stanford University.

In order to prepare pupils for their future studies and careers, Right to Dream has a Cambridge International School on site, with an emphasis on the STEM subjects of science, technology, English and maths, with character development also a key part of the curriculum.

Students are encouraged to think not only about what they can achieve personally, but also about what they can give back to society.

Vernon says: “The core underlying philosophy is we need to empower a generation of leaders and role models who can do something about offering the next generation of Africans the chance to excel on the world stage.”

As you walk into the main building at the Academy, just north of Accra, there is a sign on the wall: “Don’t expect to reach your dreams if you don’t help other people reach theirs.”

When 18-year-old defender Woledzi made it into the first team at Nordsjælland, he asked sponsors Nike to help organise a tournament for girls in Nima, a suburb of Accra. More than 100 girls took part and were provided with hijabs and sports bras in order to do so.

EQUALITY

That brings us onto the final defining feature of the Right to Dream Academy - its commitment to gender equality.

Mulberry oversees recruitment for both boys and girls in Ghana and Denmark and explains: “We have both male and female programmes, because that’s one of our core beliefs - working towards providing equality of access to opportunity for both genders.

“We are the first residential girls’ Academy in Africa and after we purchased Nordsjælland we established a women’s Academy and senior team at the same time.

“The women’s team started in the highest league they could be registered in and have had three promotions in a row. Now they’re third in the top division in Denmark.

“The programme for the girls inn Ghana is a great opportunity for them. There is very limited infrastructure for girls’ football in the country before the age of 15, so it has been life-changing for all the girls involved and have been some personal transformations.”

  Credit: TrainingGroundGuru.com

source: https://footballghana.com/

[soccernetghana]

How Ghana Academy is giving youngsters a Right to Dream

[caption id="attachment_775104" align="alignnone" width="754"] Right to Dream Academy[/caption] A place at the Right to Dream Academy in Ghana is the hot ticket for any aspiring footballer in West Africa. That’s why, in a typical year, 25,000 children turn up to their 75 recruitment tournaments, desperate to get one of the 18 scholarships on offer. “We are the sought-after destination for a talented young kid,” admits Joe Mulberry, the Director of Recruitment for Right to Dream and sister club FC Nordsjælland. “We arrange recruitment tournaments within each community in Ghana. About 300 kids play in each, so it’s intense, but that’s the only way, within budget, we can assess so many players.” The competition is fierce because the opportunities are unparalleled - not only in Africa, but probably further afield as well. When the Academy near Accra was founded by former Manchester United Africa scout Tom Vernon in 1999, it consisted of one dust pitch. Now there are eight grass pitches, a gym, LEGO Innovation Studio, dormitories for 90 student-athletes, 60 staff and a Cambridge International School. It’s more than facilities that set Right to Dream apart though. The curriculum and commitment to the players is perhaps unique, for a number of reasons. PATHWAY The chosen few who make it through the rigorous recruitment process usually join Right to Dream at the age of 11. Each gets a five-year contract. “We recruit once a year for the youngest age group and don’t look to swap or change existing players,” Mulberry explains. “They have a guarantee of their time, which settles them down into long-term goals in their development, which is really key. “For a kid in any country - but especially in Ghana, where the opportunity at the Academy is massive and being released would be a big shock to their lives - giving them stability is really important.” The Englishman himself has been at Right to Dream for a while, having joined full-time in 2004, shortly after he graduated from Aberystwyth University. He ended up in Ghana by chance, having Googled “coaching jobs abroad” and found the Academy on the second page of the results. “That really was a lucky break,” he admits, “because this is a values-driven organisation where football benefits and social benefits can meet. People talk about being motivated by their work, but being truly motivated is a different thing." https://youtu.be/vEPzWFzK0_o Mulberry was promoted to his current role, which covers recruitment at both Right to Dream and FC Nordsjælland, in 2010. A big part of the job is Academy recruitment and he feel he has an ideal scenario, knowing his best players will have a clear pathway into professional football. "As scouts, it’s really good to know players are going to be developed really well in a holistic and caring environment. It’s easy to bring a player in knowing they’re going to develop.” In total, 35 graduates of the Right to Dream Academy are playing pro football in Europe and the MLS, with the most prominent being 28-year-old forward Abdul Majid, who is at Strasbourg, having played for the likes of Porto and Spartak Moscow. The main pro football pathway leads to FC Nordsjælland, in the Danish Superliga, which Vernon bought with the help of investors in December 2015. “Our overall strategic goal is to have minimal recruitment at senior level, with our first team being made up entirely of graduates from the Right to Dream and Nordsjælland Academies,” Mulberry says. Currently, there are seven Right to Dream graduates in the Nordsjælland squad - Mohammed Kudus, Abdul Mumin, Isaac Atanga, Maxwell Woledzi, Ibrahim Sadiq, Clinton Answer and Francis Abu. The average age of their squad is 21, the club operates sustainably and they currently sit seventh in the league, so it’s no surprise that Mulberry says “the strategy has worked well so far". RECRUITMENT PROCESS A unique project requires a unique recruitment process. “A big focus is on getting Academy recruitment right, because this gives us an advantage over our competitors,” Mulberry admits. At the recruitment tournaments, he and his scouts set a "high technical threshold” and look primarily for "game intelligence and understanding” from the players. The level of those auditioning is generally higher than it would be at the same age in England. “A kid growing up in Ghana is in a better position as a young footballer before the ages of 12 and 13,” says Mulberry (pictured). “The weather allows them to play out every day and so does the culture - they’re playing out in the streets, with friends, with local teams. “They’re just more active than their European counterparts as a general rule. At 12 and 13 things become more structured for the best players in both countries and that gap closes.” Athleticism is a consideration, but not the priority. “The physical side is a positive, but in that regard we’re mainly looking for exceptional attributes or de-selecting based on really low physical attributes,” Mulberry explains. "Really, it’s a side issue though, not at the forefront of the recruitment process. At such a young age it’s impossible to predict adult athletic performance”. Having these big recruitment tournaments is unusual enough, never mind the fact that Mulberry and his staff select on both football and academic ability. “We have a reduced cognitive ability test that everyone sits when they arrive for a tournament,” he says. “We do that because we recruit players for two pathways - professional and student-athlete.” CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT This dual selection process happens because graduates from Right to Dream go not only into pro football, but also into colleges and Universities. Many of those enter the US collegiate system and Right to Dream youngsters have received an estimated $45m of US scholarships in the last 12 years. Some have gone to Ivy League colleges, while one, Ousseni Bouda, is currently at Stanford University. In order to prepare pupils for their future studies and careers, Right to Dream has a Cambridge International School on site, with an emphasis on the STEM subjects of science, technology, English and maths, with character development also a key part of the curriculum. Students are encouraged to think not only about what they can achieve personally, but also about what they can give back to society. Vernon says: “The core underlying philosophy is we need to empower a generation of leaders and role models who can do something about offering the next generation of Africans the chance to excel on the world stage.” As you walk into the main building at the Academy, just north of Accra, there is a sign on the wall: “Don’t expect to reach your dreams if you don’t help other people reach theirs.” When 18-year-old defender Woledzi made it into the first team at Nordsjælland, he asked sponsors Nike to help organise a tournament for girls in Nima, a suburb of Accra. More than 100 girls took part and were provided with hijabs and sports bras in order to do so. EQUALITY That brings us onto the final defining feature of the Right to Dream Academy - its commitment to gender equality. Mulberry oversees recruitment for both boys and girls in Ghana and Denmark and explains: “We have both male and female programmes, because that’s one of our core beliefs - working towards providing equality of access to opportunity for both genders. [caption id="attachment_775102" align="alignnone" width="800"] Right to Dream[/caption] “We are the first residential girls’ Academy in Africa and after we purchased Nordsjælland we established a women’s Academy and senior team at the same time. “The women’s team started in the highest league they could be registered in and have had three promotions in a row. Now they’re third in the top division in Denmark. “The programme for the girls inn Ghana is a great opportunity for them. There is very limited infrastructure for girls’ football in the country before the age of 15, so it has been life-changing for all the girls involved and have been some personal transformations.” Credit: TrainingGroundGuru.com source: https://ghanasoccernet.com/

[mrsdimebrona]

Dimes: Chapter3: What a gardening tool

Selchi's POV

 I made my way downstairs. I made sure that when ever I was on display, that I look my best. I smile at myself. The boys are all over me. 

 Unlike my sisters, I have self confidence. I know I'm sexy and beautiful. I get my backpack and purse and head out the door.

 I'm the second to last in the car. I mean, I do take a lot of time making sure I'm beautiful, even though I always am, to me. Oh and I actually eat breakfast.

 Sleye sits next to me, she smiles. I look up to her, and yeah, she's a stripper, but… she's got a good heart. I wanna be like her. I smile back at her. 

 "Slut!" Freya yelled at me. I came up to her and kissed her on the cheek. She looked at me in a disgusting way. I giggled. "What the hell?!You dyke!" She said. I shook my head. "I'm that bisexual whore you know." I said to her, shaking my ass at her. I laughed and left. 

 I smile at that memory. 

  Maybe you want to know why I do what I do. Truth is… I'm not a whore, just a slut. I wanna be loved. 

 Maybe yoPu're saying that this isn't how you get someone to like you. Well, I need a way to stand out. To me, this is the only way to be loved. To get someone to notice me. I'm grey-asexual. 

 Yeah, I know, shocker. Oh, and I do feel bad for me, and for Sleye. 

 Sleye's POV

 I think about my job. How weird it is, well, one day I won't be a stripper. Yeah, that's right, I don't like my job.

 I also don't want a girl to like me because of my looks or money, but for who I am.

 I don't like guys, I like girls. There's nothing wrong with that. Go ahead and hate me all you want now, but just now, it's who I am. And you, can not change me.

 Like I would let you anyway. I look around and look at my sisters. It’s sad. They’re just all so… depressed! Nothin’ I can do about it though. I just wish they’d smile more, y’know? I get it though, I was most of them before, I thought the same things they did. But I mean, COME ON, could they be A LITTLE more positive?!

 I blink my eyes, they hurt. We drop everyone off and Janice heads to our college. We get there early, just how I like it. I get out the car and head to class. I sit by my best friend, Nima Tallece. 

 “Hey Nima.”I say. Nima has dark skin and brown eyes, she has black hair, it’s long and braided. “Hey Slice,”She says, calling me by my nickname. “So, um, H-How was work?”She asks. “Good.”I tell her. Though in reality, it wasn’t okay.

 I’m not gonna tell you what happened, if that’s what you’re thinking. Just know, It was bad.

 Nima tells me about her job, how great it was, and that she got a raise. What a lucky girl. It’s not that my job doesn’t pay well, it’s just that… Ugh, nevermind, I don’t want to talk about it.

 I crack my back and my neck. This is a math class. Math is fine, It just bores me. Actually, every class bores me. Can’t wait till I graduate.  I yawn. I’m still tired. 

 I laid down on the cold floor and stared at the ceiling. I felt my emotions go away. I yawned. I got up and walked around the mansion. I looked for my mom. She wasn’t home. I looked for my sisters, they weren’t there. I felt alone. I laid on my bed. I fell asleep. When I woke up, or when I thought I woke up, I couldn’t see anything. I heard screams, but I couldn't move.

 I shake my head, trying to get rid of that memory. I was in a coma once, it lastedabout.. a week. 

 I pay attention to the teacher to drown out my thoughts. It's gonna be a long day…

[jmmgroup-blog]

Handouts to offspring will foster sibling rivalry

Where is the sense in funding the financially feeble, or providing differing levels of monetary support to young adult offspring, if the result is an unhappy family and strained sibling relationships.

When I say funding – I mean handouts – fistfuls of cash. For the former it’s like fuelling a drug habit. They’re the ones forever in debt, always living beyond their means. For the latter, they don’t necessarily need the money – it is often about what a parent believes their child “should” have, or “needs” – but it definitely helps. This can smack of favouritism and gnaw away at family bonds.

Parents, bless them, just can’t win.

Not only does this waste huge amounts of cash, there is also an emotional cost. I’m sure you’re privy to any number of stories where there is discontent, if not dispute, around who got what and whether it’s fair. It is real-life soap opera fodder.

A mother I know is giving one of her two adult daughters the down payment for her first property. One daughter is a musician and jazz singer, the other is in fin­ance, raising funding for start-up enterprise.

The most likely thought is that the former is the one who’s getting help. Think again. It’s the corporate bod who’s getting the money. Is it because she’s younger? Not yet married? How does her sister feel about this? The family appears very close. Still, I wonder what this step on to the property ladder will do for sibling dynamics.

Research in the United States found that parents helping their young adult children financially was linked to what it called a “solid parent-child bond” that got stronger the more money is given. I found it surprising, and disturbing, that money was a bigger issue than emotional support and affection. Other research states that sibling relationships were not affected by preferential treatment, like affection, as long as they were given the same amount of money. Give one more money than the other and you’re condemning siblings to bad relationships with each other later on in life. If this is true, it saddens me deeply. But I can understand how and why it comes about.

Parents often strive to save their offspring from various ills – bad credit ratings, unnecessary struggle, a clapped-out banger, a long commute to work. One solution is to spend – if they have the money – to save their children such stress.

But how do they decide who is more deserving, more in need?

We, children, are sensitive to inequality, even when we are adults.

Two-thirds of people participating in research looking at the issue of family loans or handouts state that there is an emotional impact on the whole family when parents support adult children financially.

The issues being grappled with include:

• Siblings getting differing levels of help.

• Family secrets arising.

• Resentment building up.

From various case studies I come across, the theme is this: the less able, or the one perceived as more in need, sibling is looked after – with handouts and bailouts. The more capable ones are overlooked.

There are examples where those with less financial acumen are left the bulk of inheritance – because they are most in need of the money.

The irony of course is that they are the least able to put it to good use, will likely blow it all and once again be in need, but with no one able to help them out once the inheritance is spent, because they, the financially troubled, got most of the cash.

Of course we should help out those in need. I suppose it depends on who’s defining what this means, and whether the type of help extended is beneficial.

Someone whose daily habits gets them in money trouble -is there a point in giving them more money?

A person who is less able, mentally or physically – is there merit in buying them a house when they can’t look after themselves?

A child who has a lower paying job because they choose to pursue their passion – what’s fair about providing for them over the one who knuckled down and slogged away at university and beyond?

It’s a quagmire. My thought is that the bigger, more important, issue is discussing what you’re thinking. Talk about it with your family, explain what you want to do, why, and that you realise it affects everyone. You might be surprised with the different takes on what you’re proposing. And most importantly, talk about being fair. You want to be fair don’t you? Find out what that means to everyone, not just what it means to you.

While you mull over your next step, here’s a tongue twister for you: family financial-fate favours the feeble, or favoured, when it comes to filial fortunes. Say it five times. But don’t do it.

Nima Abu Wardeh describes herself using three words: Person. Parent. Pupil. Each day she works out which one gets priority, sharing her journey on finding-nima.com.

pf@thenational.ae

Follow us on Twitter @TheNationalPF

Source: The National

Handouts to offspring will foster sibling rivalry was originally published on JMM Group of Companies

[martinfzimmerman]

Handouts to offspring will foster sibling rivalry

Where is the sense in funding the financially feeble, or providing differing levels of monetary support to young adult offspring, if the result is an unhappy family and strained sibling relationships.

When I say funding - I mean handouts - fistfuls of cash. For the former it's like fuelling a drug habit. They're the ones forever in debt, always living beyond their means. For the latter, they don't necessarily need the money - it is often about what a parent believes their child "should" have, or "needs" - but it definitely helps. This can smack of favouritism and gnaw away at family bonds.

Parents, bless them, just can't win.

Not only does this waste huge amounts of cash, there is also an emotional cost. I'm sure you're privy to any number of stories where there is discontent, if not dispute, around who got what and whether it's fair. It is real-life soap opera fodder.

A mother I know is giving one of her two adult daughters the down payment for her first property. One daughter is a musician and jazz singer, the other is in fin­ance, raising funding for start-up enterprise.

The most likely thought is that the former is the one who's getting help. Think again. It's the corporate bod who's getting the money. Is it because she's younger? Not yet married? How does her sister feel about this? The family appears very close. Still, I wonder what this step on to the property ladder will do for sibling dynamics.

Research in the United States found that parents helping their young adult children financially was linked to what it called a "solid parent-child bond" that got stronger the more money is given. I found it surprising, and disturbing, that money was a bigger issue than emotional support and affection. Other research states that sibling relationships were not affected by preferential treatment, like affection, as long as they were given the same amount of money. Give one more money than the other and you're condemning siblings to bad relationships with each other later on in life. If this is true, it saddens me deeply. But I can understand how and why it comes about.

Parents often strive to save their offspring from various ills - bad credit ratings, unnecessary struggle, a clapped-out banger, a long commute to work. One solution is to spend - if they have the money - to save their children such stress.

But how do they decide who is more deserving, more in need?

We, children, are sensitive to inequality, even when we are adults.

Two-thirds of people participating in research looking at the issue of family loans or handouts state that there is an emotional impact on the whole family when parents support adult children financially.

The issues being grappled with include:

• Siblings getting differing levels of help.

• Family secrets arising.

• Resentment building up.

From various case studies I come across, the theme is this: the less able, or the one perceived as more in need, sibling is looked after - with handouts and bailouts. The more capable ones are overlooked.

There are examples where those with less financial acumen are left the bulk of inheritance - because they are most in need of the money.

The irony of course is that they are the least able to put it to good use, will likely blow it all and once again be in need, but with no one able to help them out once the inheritance is spent, because they, the financially troubled, got most of the cash.

Of course we should help out those in need. I suppose it depends on who's defining what this means, and whether the type of help extended is beneficial.

Someone whose daily habits gets them in money trouble -is there a point in giving them more money?

A person who is less able, mentally or physically - is there merit in buying them a house when they can't look after themselves?

A child who has a lower paying job because they choose to pursue their passion - what's fair about providing for them over the one who knuckled down and slogged away at university and beyond?

It's a quagmire. My thought is that the bigger, more important, issue is discussing what you're thinking. Talk about it with your family, explain what you want to do, why, and that you realise it affects everyone. You might be surprised with the different takes on what you're proposing. And most importantly, talk about being fair. You want to be fair don't you? Find out what that means to everyone, not just what it means to you.

While you mull over your next step, here's a tongue twister for you: family financial-fate favours the feeble, or favoured, when it comes to filial fortunes. Say it five times. But don't do it.

Nima Abu Wardeh describes herself using three words: Person. Parent. Pupil. Each day she works out which one gets priority, sharing her journey on finding-nima.com.

pf@thenational.ae

Follow us on Twitter @TheNationalPF

from Personal Finance RSS feed - The National http://www.thenational.ae/business/personal-finance/handouts-to-offspring-will-foster-sibling-rivalry

[kuno-chan]

Sea of Chains - Ch. 24, Gem Fortress Isle

Rating: T

Summary: Years after the events of Anchor, Captain Kai and Jinora Gyatso remain famous names on the seas and their children are literally born pirates. Now, their daughter, Nima, is becoming a little too pirate for comfort. When trouble with Captain Quil of the Blood Moon Pirates turns tragic, Nima is viciously dragged into what can only be be described as every parent’s worst nightmare.

Please consider reviewing on fanfiction.net

–

The Sozin’s biggest enemy, Dan decided, was itself and it’s own clockwork routines. Designed to keep the process of commuting guards to and from Gem Fortress Isle safe and smooth, it was no trouble at all to blend into their everyday habits. No one questioned his presence, despite clearly being of the Water Tribe. There were other guards of other ethnicities as well to his surprise.

The ship was a sprawling mass of the finest, most polished wood with the reddest sails and the blackest emblems and the goldest threads. On deck, somebody was always shining and swabbing, keeping the sun glinting on the wood at all times and free of any mildew or grime. There were rooms for bedding everywhere, an armory on every level, two galleys and two mess halls. An imperial ship at it’s absolute peak.

On for only a few days at a time for weeks, the same men did the same things and the rest found something to do with themselves. Their routines were age old. A formality, no longer truly functioning as real security. How long had it been since most of these men had seen real combat?

Dan asked as such.

“Nobody in their right mind would come attack an imperial vessel of the Fire Nation so close to it’s home,” laughed one of the veteran guards -- Kadesh he mentioned his name was. He was tan, black-haired and golden-eyed. “Only Shu Ting of the Dragon’s Crown is ever so bold. Even then, she won’t stay in these waters too long.”

She probably had bigger fish to fry, Dan figured.

Good. Then, The Sea Viper would probably be fairly undetected. Of course, ships sailed in and out of the seas of the Fire Nation year round, especially since Hidama was its most inward coastal city.

Before he left, Nima told him to be careful, but it didn’t seem like there was much danger to be had. Nobody checked his credentials. Nobody seemed to care that there was a new face. She was worrying for nothing.

Besides, he wished she would stop. He didn’t fancy the way she looked at him with those pooling green eyes. It almost -- almost -- made him squirm how the uplift of the corner of her eyes and lips softened when she seemed lost for words.

She didn’t have to say anything. He was used to silence.

When he lived with his sister, things were often silent. Not because she ignored him, but because when her husband had some diplomatic mission back home north in the North Pole, she went with him. Considering how he was sent away in the first place, he never had any inclination to return home to Nerrivik.

He would rather be left to himself. And left to himself was how he preferred it.

He didn’t need a girl like her bothering him. Especially since she had made it very clear that she didn’t totally appreciate his presence either.

He didn’t care.

It was only a job as far as he was concerned.

-:-:-:-

Gem Fortress Isle did it’s name justice. Massive black stone towers erected out of the cliffsides, the waves crashing against the foot of the jagged rocks. Large torches inside square rooms lit the head of all the towers and smoke billowed in the salt sea breeze. There was a brined smell in the air as they sailed closer, like a bonfire burning salt stones.

It reminded Nima of the time her Uncle Nukko had caught a massive fish one summer and the smell from cooking it filled the ship for days. But these were no cooking fires. Each tower lined the edge of a wall half it’s size and from there it was pretty much impossible to climb between the sheer black stone and marble walls to the sharp merciless rocks that beheld centuries old fortitude.

“Captain,” Ranaka began, crossing her arms over her chest as she observed the island wide fortress. “How are are going to keep them from seeing us?”

Captain Koika put a large hand on her shoulder. Despite his alertness, there seemed to be shallow bags under his eyes. “Don’t worry. We’re going to keep close to The Sozin until we near enough to hide beneath those rocks. Their ship is much bigger than ours so we can manage a little hide and seek. We’re going to have to use the rowboats to get any closer than that.”

“Dan’s going to meet us,” said Nima, reassuring them. “That’s what he said.”

“How?” Foba too was examining the fortress, his face crestfallen.

“He’ll find a way,” said Nima. “Tehan, didn’t your friend mention rowboats?”

Standing next to Captain Koika, Tehan nodded. “He says things are kind of relaxed there. Nothing happens and so no one really notices much. There should be some rowboats somewhere around there. Dan’s a smart kid. I’m sure he’ll find them alright.” He flashed a smile at her. Nima blinked before belatedly returning it.

Hyun nudged Tehan. “How come this friend o’ yours is helping us so much?”

“He hates his boss and, well, the entire job, really,” replied Tehan, shrugging. “He’s always been a little rule breaker, that one. One reason we get on so well.”

“What time should we go meet him?” asked Nima, leaning on the gunwale. “So, we make it quick.”

“Relax, lass,” Koika told her. “We’ll set up after they port and go in once night falls.”

Hyun sent Nima a lazy grin. “Dan’s a big, sturdy fella, but I see you’re awfully worried.”

“Of course I’m worried!” Nima moaned. “He’s in there by himself!”

And they didn’t even really know what they were looking for. Hell, they didn’t even know if it existed. All of this was just a hunch. The guilt seeped a little further into Nima’s belly.

All this uncertainty and Dan still went along with it. Unlike the The Sea Viper crew, he wasn’t in it for any possible loot. He just did it… well, he just did it because she asked.

Nima sighed through her nose. “I’m usually involved in the raids,” she said, wincing. “At least, now I am. My dad finally figured I was old enough as long as everyone else was involved.”

“A kid should learn how to fight,” Hyun agreed. “You’re dad’s smart not to shield ye. World can be a cruel place.”

Nima didn’t answer him. Less so because she had nothing to say and more because her throat tightened up at her father’s mention. No, he hadn’t shielded her from fighting. Just from himself.

“Can they really not see us?” Saika asked, frowning. “It just seems a little unbelievable that they would leave so much treasure so loosely guarded. I guard single gold coins with my life.”

“Remember, ships pass by this island constantly. They’re not going to immediately raise the alarm just because a ship is skirting the island,” said Koika, rubbing his eyes. “That’s why we’re going to anchor in their blindspot.”

“That still sounds like terrible security,” Saika replied.

“I’m not going to question whatever gets us shot less.” Ranaka hooked her arm in his. He smiled at her a little. “Would you?”

His smile widened, a twinkle in his eye. “Your optimism is showing.”

“Always is, darling” she cooed. “Not getting shot is a favorite pastime of mine.”

Nima almost smiled at them. She turned back to The Sozin.

She hoped Dan would pick up on that pastime too.

-:-:-:-

Night fell.

Saika and Captain Koika followed her on the boat, leaving the first mate in charge should anything go wrong. Hyun only saluted his captain before they left. Nima was a bucket of nerves and she kept glancing at the corner of the rocks in front of her. Dan had to be coming. He had to be.

What if he’d been found out? What if somebody questioned him and realized he wasn’t who he said he was? She dared not open her mouth with those worries though, even Koika keeping silent as he rowed the boat a little farther forward.

She heard the quiet splash before she saw it. Around the corner of the jagged cliffside, Dan rowed in a small, dark wooden boat, still in that uniform that she almost told him was a little bit too tight for him. It wasn’t like they exactly had a choice, but the fabric at the shoulders was as bit snug. Even from here she could see them grappling at the brawny muscles of his arms as he rowed toward them.

“You’re okay,” she breathed when he was finally close enough.

He glanced up at her, his stare lingering. “...yeah,” he said. “Hurry up. Get in the boat. Who’s all coming?”

“I am,” Koika said, climbing into the boat. He extended his hand out to Nima. “I’m not letting you kids go in by yourselves. At least, I can be a little bit of extra muscle. Ranaka will take the boat back.”

Ranaka raised her chin. “Aye, captain.”

Nima took his hand, flashing a grateful smile. “Will we be able to get in though?” she asked Dan. “With all three of us?”

Dan nodded. “We won’t even be seen.”

He rowed them toward a small hidden shore directly under one the watchtowers, the angle so perpendicular and obscured by cliff rocks that there was no way someone could simply look over the edge and see them. There was an opening big enough for one person to fit through, Koika and Dan having to bend over, but otherwise he fit enough.

“What is this place?” Nima asked.

Ahead of her, Dan replied, “One of the older guards told me about this opening. It’s not taught officially, but all guards know about it apparently. It’s like a hidden escape route in case someone needs to get away. To send or receive important or secret messages that is.”

“This place was built in a time of war,” added Koika. He walked behind her with a surprisingly light footfall. “Before it was a fortress for the Fire Nation’s greatest treasures, it was a source of other things. War spoils, prisoners… then over time it became a symbol of their wealth and power. Some harvested right at home with no problem.” His face went dark. “Others stolen from lands not their own. You might find quite a few Air Nomad relics in here.”

Nima’s heart dropped. She was born and raised a pirate, but her mother and grandparents made sure she also knew about her Air Nomad heritage. That was no less a part of her than her pirate heritage either. “I’m Air Nomad,” Nima said quietly.

That wasn’t right.

They shouldn’t have kept those relics. Those… there was something particularly nasty about stealing someone else’s culture from them.

“Honestly, lass, most of the people these days probably don’t even know they’re here. I doubt even Fire Lord Izumi knows. It’s been so long and these things have been buried for ages. Longer than your lifetime five fold.”

For such intimate things to be stolen from their homes so viciously, the blood of their owners and creators and rightful curators having been wiped clean from them probably only to be placed in a glorified trinket jar...

She knew her peoples’ history and how Fire Lord Sozin had begun the ravaging of the Air Temples. Equally so, the Air Nomads themselves, slaughtered around the world over time until their population dwindled. Her great grandfather, Aang Gyatso, had been the one to surprise every nation and finally defeat Sozin’s grandson, Fire Lord Ozai, and end The Great War.

“This used to be named The Isle of Sozin, during his reign that is. It wasn’t exactly official. More of a nickname,” Koika said, ducking further as the tunnel became smaller. He grunted. No doubt his back didn’t exactly like that.

“Modest man,” Nima commented in a small voice.

“Great men have a tendency to be terrible men.”

She immediately thought of Captain Quil and her bones felt a little bit heavier like they always did when he came to mind. Heavy and leaden like a sitting turtleduck when he took that sword and--

“We’re here,” Dan said, mercifully bringing her back from her own head. The world slipped back into place and she remembered that the flat of her feet were on the ground, not her back against red soaked wood.

On the other side of her, Dan put his hand against a solid rock wall and said a word she didn’t quite understand under his breath. The rock slid open for him and he climbed through, extending his hand out to her when she came close enough. Torches lit the hall they climbed into, heavy darkness hanging in the air, ready to descend upon them should the torches. She noticed there were was only one barred window. Not one large enough for a human to come through, but the moonlight reached through, lighting the night that laid underneath it. Their footsteps threatened to echo, but Dan put his fingers to his lips and pointed at their shoes.

She and Koika nodded. Walk slowly. Walk quietly. Got it.

They took a right, not even stopping when they came across a stairway at the end of a second hall. She looked back, sharing a small frown with Captain Koika. Where were all the guards?

“This was my area for the night,” Dan said quietly when they climbed the stairs. “Which was why they showed me the door. Nobody comes down here.”

“Where are we going?” Nima asked, keeping her voice just as low.

“To the main vault.”

“Nobody comes down here and the main vault is in this area?” Koika asked. Nima shared another glance with him. Exactly her thoughts. “That doesn’t smell right.”

“They said security prioritizes over the personal treasures of the Fire Lords rather than the main vault, which is filled with lesser important treasures. There are other guards around, but they still keep to their end of things.”

“And this happened to be your wing?”

“Yes,” Dan said, come face to face with a large black door. There were no handles, hinges as far as she could see, but there was cracks where the opening was. Nima reached out to feel it, but Dan grabbed her hand before she could. “This is why we get in, get what we need and get out. No unnecessary exploring. These people are laid back at best, but they’re eventually going to come relieve me for a midnight shift change.”

Nima frowned, pulling her hand away. “How are we going to get in?”

“Everything here is guarded by wards and passwords written into spells. Only the higher ups know the passwords. The warden left his office open and I snuck in. He had he passwords in a drawer.” He put his hand on the door, just like he did with their entrance, and spoke a word she didn’t know. It was certainly not in the common tongue.

“Old language of the Fire Nation. They still use it for record keeping in certain places, but it’s largely not spoken in their modern tongue,” Koika explained, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s smart. This is why they’re not worried about anybody getting in.”

Still. Something tickled at her spine. Something her Grandpa Yung always said to listen to.

Sorry Grandpa, she thought. I don’t have much of a choice this time.

The truth, actually. She didn’t even know if this was even the right decision. Would Roku’s stone even be in here? She didn’t… she didn’t know. Was this what her life had come to? Risking the lives of other people over hunches and half thoughts? If they were caught…

She didn’t want to think about what would happen if they were caught.

But that tick down her spine also kept saying something else:

Keep going .

Well, this was all she had. This small hunch was all she had to go on, but… that something was gnawing at her. And every time she thought about Roku’s Flare it just started gnawing a little harder. Her Uncle Lefty would have called that guts if he ever heard her talk about it.

If she ever got to talk to him about it.

Despite their size, the doors slid open smoothly and in relative silence. On the other side there was a barren space and another set of doors. Following Dan’s lead, they stepped into the space and the doors slid closed behind them. When they did, the second set of doors slid open, no need for Dan to intervene this time. The doors receded and--

Piles.

Nima’s mouth dropped open. Even Koika couldn’t keep himself from whistling a little.

Piles and piles of gleaming stones, gems and other such precious items. The vault’s impossibly high ceiling made way for small mountains of rubies, emeralds, crystals, diamonds, fire stones, golden gems and an endless rainbow of strange and exotic treasures of the earth. Even Dan was looking on with a faint sense of awe.

Nima had never seen anything like it. She probably had been in towns worth less money than this vault on it’s own. As a child, her grandfather would take her along when he had little business ventures to do. Errands to run. Sometimes, he would bring her to the Bank of Republic CIty where he had important things to discuss with the family banker. She used to think that place had to be the richest place in the world.

How small… how small it was compared to the wealth of this place. Gems gleamed and shone, lighting the walls in their kaleidoscope of colors, the shadows of herself, Dan and Koika lost in their inherent beauty of color and reflection.

“This…” She tried to begin. She wet her lips and closed her mouth. “I’ve never seen anything like this…”

“Just a few of these will keep The Sea Viper and everyone on it set for life,” said Koika, picking up a sapphire and examining it.

He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts when Dan said, “It’s going to be nothing short of impossible finding Roku’s comet stone. We don’t have time to get distracted. We should split up and take a look. Then meet back here.”

Nima glanced at Koika who was still looking at that same sapphire a few feet away. “Are you sure?” she asked, keeping her voice low enough so only he could hear her.

“We don’t have a choice. We need to find this thing and get out before somebody realizes that I’m no longer at my post.” Dan looked up at Koika. “Are you going to be alright?”

Koika looked up, blinking, before he realized that Dan was talking to him. “Of course,” he said, as if his mind had been deep elsewhere. He stroked his grey beard and narrowed his eyes at his surroundings.”Of course I will. You kids give a shout if anything.”

Dan nodded at him, then he nodded at Nima.

Well… alright. She didn’t like it, but Dan had a point.

The place was already so big as it was, but… it was here. It had to be. She could feel it deep in her gut that the thing was here. Waiting. Waiting.

She watched Dan find a path between the mounds and disappear around the corner wordlessly. “Will you be alright?” she asked Captain Koika.

He smiled wryly at her. “Don’t you worry about me, lass. Like I said. If anything happens, just give a shout and we’ll come running.”

Nima nodded and turned away, rounding the corner of a pile particularly bespeckled with rubies. She felt a shudder at the red light it bathed her in, her muscles stiffening.

“I’m not there,” she told herself.

She wasn’t there. Quil wasn’t there. She was nowhere near him.

Her fingers grazed the coldness of the gems, felt them trickle at her feet. Gold coins also littered the floor, clinking with her every step. She let her gaze wander, looking, searching for a… a sign that would tell her she’d found the comet stone. She needed that stone. If that stone wasn’t here and her gut was wrong then…

She shook her head. It was here. It had to be here. For what felt like too long she roamed the corridors of the vault. Round and round she roamed, the mountains of gems blurring together. Was it endless?

Her mind began to feel… tired.

How long had she been searching? She was ready to call out for Dan. This wasn’t working and they were going to get lost. It felt like she’d searched for too long, too deep. Again, she asked herself how long she’d been searching.

Indeed, how long? Why did she not really have a sort of estimate? It was like this place with all it’s jewels and all it’s treasures were imprisoners of her senses.

It smelled like nothing in here, too. Not like iron or ore or the sharpness of metal. The ceiling was just so high she couldn’t make out where it ended and the darkness that shrouded it above seemed alive somehow. Like it was ready to swallow her whole.

She sighed deeply through her nose, finding a way between two more closely laid mountains.

And there was a road.

Nima froze, feeling more like an animal caught than ever before.

There was a road. And a town around that road. There were people hustling and bustling by, carriages rolling along. Under her feet, she tapped the cobblestone. Every smooth bump was there. Real. None of the people paid her any mind, but…

She knew this street.

And the smell. It wafted across her nose and almost made her knees weak. A bakery. Not just any bakery. Nima watched as Mr. Lao from Lao’s Pastries was filling the basket at his shop window with fresh loaves of bread and what she knew to be cherry filled buns. She… she hadn’t had one of those in months.

Because they hadn’t sailed to Republic City for a little while. Her father had wanted to make a round to other ports before they went back to visit her grandparents. They’d only been on their third or fourth port when she was separated from them.

The smell of the bread flooded her senses, inviting her despite the stress behind her mind’s eye. How had she teleported back to this place?

Her mouth watered as she edged toward it, the scent damn near overwhelming her like it always did. She usually could feel one of her uncles at her side, chuckling at her growing excitement of yet more food.

But she was alone right now. She felt more alone with all these people around than she had a moment ago.

Where was Dan? And Captain Koika? Had they come to this place too?

They should try the pastries if they di--

Then she saw herself. Not a reflection, not like a mirror. She watched as a smaller girl left Mr. Lao’s shop. She was shorter than herself now, in a brown and beige dress Nima hadn’t worn in years.

Twelve. Nima’s heart dropped into her stomach. She could remember for a fact that this was a twelve year old her. Twelve had been a…. Gods, it’d been a bad year. Such a bad year.

Looking on at this girl with her green eyes and brown hair, happily carrying her sack of food. She remembered the day, the hour.

She knew twelve year old her would leave Mr. Lao’s shop like she did and Nima walked after her, the younger girl dancing along the street as she went next door to climb the rooftop and eat her goodies in peace so her mother wouldn’t tell her to put them away till after dinner.

Up on that rooftop, her ship was visible at the harbor. Her father had told her not to go without someone and she, well, had but… Uncle Skoochy was easy to convince as long as she didn’t wander too far from the cigar shop he was browsing at the moment up the street.

Nima wasn’t sure if she was breathing or not. She was in her own body and with her twelve year old self all at once. The little girl pulled the scene along with her, as if she was forcing her present self to follow.

But Nima knew what happened. She didn’t want to see it.

Her own feet seemed to refuse her plea.

The scene shifted and she was on the roof with her child self now, done with the food she’d purchased. Nima knew there was going to be commotion below from the dim alleyway. She didn’t have to watch herself peek over at the edge of the roof. She didn’t have to watch herself see the young woman with long brown hair in a messy up do get carted off by two men who were clearly up to no good as they dragged her down the dim alleyway.

Her child self glanced at The Waterbender beyond the rooftops. Then, back down at the woman being dragged away.

Nima tried to reach out as her younger self climbed down and the roof and followed them.

“Go back,” she strained a whisper, a lump forming in her throat. “Go back. Go get help.”

When Nima tried to follow her, ready to leap off the roof the height be damned--

The scene shifted again and now it was the middle of the night, moon high and swords clashing all around. A wooden deck was under her now, and there across the way, through the bloodshed--

Her Uncle Momo was holding his own against a man, their swords clashing against each other desperately before her Uncle did the smart thing and kicked the man between the legs. He raced across the deck to a small girl--

Gods, no.

“No, just leave her!” Nima’s voice broke over the chaos around her. He couldn’t hear her, only the screaming girl with green eyes that he rushed over to defend. Still, Nima shouted. “You’re going to get hurt! Just leave her! Leave me, please, Uncle Mo--”

The man her Uncle Momo had kicked between the legs had come to join his crewmates. There was a terrible flash of red and Nima screamed, running over and freezing at the site of her Uncle Momo holding his throat, jade green eyes flicking back and forth in panic and deep red oozing from behind his fingers. It was getting under her feet -- Qilaq and Kinguyakki help her, save him, she could feel his life soaking her feet -- it was leaking back under his head and oh gods, he should have just left her. He should have left her he should have left her--

Her eight year old self was screaming in full force now, diving for her uncle on the ground, but Uncle Sudhir was hauling her away as her father and Uncle Appa killed the men who surrounded had hurt her Uncle Momo--

And then the scene shifted again. She couldn’t hear the words, but her father was beyond furious. To this day, she couldn’t remember a time he was that angry with her. She couldn’t make out the words as he yelled at her eight year old self, not as her own sobbing threatened to tear apart her chest at this very moment.

She shook her head again and again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sobbed over and over again, her tears falling and rolling under her chin. “ I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry--”

She just wanted it to stop. She wanted to stop hearing her father yell and she wanted to get out of this dream, memory, whatever it was. The weight was a drug, dragging her under deeper and deeper and the despair hit her, cleaving itself in her chest like an axe.

The scene began shifting again and her heart missed a beat.

“No, please, no more,” she begged to whatever was doing this to her. “Please, no more. Please--”

Her pleas went unanswered.

--

Well, things are moving along more now and the stakes are higher once more. We’re just beginning the fun though!

As always, guys I love it when you leave those reviews! They really keep me motivated and keep me writing! Thank you for reading! Tune in for next chapter!