#ill put a link to my comms in a bit!

[smokbeast]

ALRIGHT, let's start from the beginning...

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🐸 HENLO I AM SMOKBEAST🐸

multifandom/concept artist/ Faggot/ Lv.24/ dominican cuban. 18+ BLOG (NO MINORS, im not comfortable interacting with minors pls leave, i will post nsfw sometimes if you dont like it pls block me!) PROSHIP/PEDOS/PHOBes/INCEST dni

BUENOS DIAS MUCHACHALATAS, and welcome to the smoki domain! This is my side of the frog pond and i hope you enjoy your stay! i am just a lil guy who likes frogs and fun

Bienvenidos todos a mi lado del lago, espero que disfrutes lo que veas. yo nada mas soy un chico chill que le gusta las ranas y diversion:DDD

🐸 SEND ASKS, GO NUTS, I DON'T BITE🐸

i love to chat with new folks and go nuts on anything, you can send me asks about anything cause i'd love to be insane about my ocs or any cool fandom i'm into!

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Currently hyperfixations :))): Undertale, Fnaf, Monster Hunter, Dinos, good omens,Baldur's gate 3, and Digimon

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[uwingdispatch]

From the Very First Night

From the Very First Night

Notes: Ezra Bridger/Reader, established relationship, gender neutral reader, post-rebellion/post-war, hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader

CW: light discussion of past traumas/implied PTSD

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

The day you met Ezra Bridger you laughed when he told you his name. 

“Forgive me,” you told him, “but you’re not the first man on Lothal to try and pick me up while claiming to be the guy in the mural on the wall outside.”

“Well that’s new,” he said. “I tell you my full government name and you think it’s a ruse. Maybe I should have used one of my old aliases.”  

You’d been finishing up some work in what had come to be your favorite caf bar in town, a few blocks from your home on Lothal. And you were thinking about leaving when a man approached with a look in his eyes that, on another day, might have prompted you to pick up your comms and fake an emergency call from a friend.

But now he was reaching for his wallet, pulling out an ID. “You can check my chain code if you want. I didn’t realize I had so many doppelgängers.”  

You quirked an eyebrow. None of the other “Ezras” you’d met had offered ID but, as soon as you saw it, you felt heat rush to your cheeks. “Okay,” you said. “This is embarrassing. ”

He smiled warmly as he put his wallet away. “To be fair, most of the stuff in town depicts me as a kid, and I didn’t have this handsome beard back then. But I can appreciate a skeptic.”

You put away your datapad, your instincts still split between staying where you were and running out the side door. Surprising yourself, you say, “But I’m not hearing you say that you're not trying to pick me up.”

“Well…maybe. That depends, I guess, on whether you mind if I join you.”

You nodded, and he sat opposite you, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling when he smiled. Up close, you could almost see the teenage boy from the mural. But his hair was longer, dark curls falling soft around his face, and he had a short beard that he did wear quite well.

You wondered if his nerves had caught up with him as he ran a hand through his hair, the late afternoon light coming in through the window catching a streak of silver at his temple.

“Sometimes it feels like I know everyone in this city. Or at least that everyone in this city feels like they know me.” he said. “But you’re new, aren’t you?”

“What gave me away?” you asked.

“Well, I could never forget such a lovely face.” 

“Are you serious right now?”

“I really am.”

There was something sincere about him, despite the flirtations. Something about the way he moved was honest. Welcoming. A server brought him a cup of caf and Ezra exchanged a few words with him in Rodian. 

“So how long have you been in town?” He asked.

“About eight months,” you said. “I just hit this point where I felt like a fresh start might be nice. I don’t usually abandon ship when things get rough, but I thought maybe this one time…I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

He winked. “I used a Jedi mind trick.” 

“Right,” you said, fairly certain he was kidding.

He shrugged. “And somehow you landed on Lothal.”

“I narrowed it down to the places where I’d be able to have my astromech serviced.”

“Must be a special astromech.”

“She’s a therapy droid.”

“Ah,” he said. “There are several mechanics in Capital City who work with that program.”

You were a bit taken aback at how unfazed he was at the mention of your therapy droid—issued by the New Republic. Similar programs had been available to injured veterans before, but the civilian program was newer. And he not only knew about the program, but didn’t seem bothered by the fact that you had a condition that required this kind of aid.

“We had a lot of options,” you said. “But Ceetoo and I decided Lothal seemed nice. So…I’m here.” 

“Glad you are,” he said, both hands cupping his caf mug.

“You just met me and the first thing I did was call you a liar.”

“That’s what I like about you.”

A day would come when you’d realize what he meant then. That when you saw him you weren’t thinking about all the war stories, about the way Lothal had memorialized him when they’d thought he was dead. That he had a chance, at least for a moment, to show someone who he was without the burden of their assumptions and expectations. 

You would also come to realize that from the first time Ezra smiled at you, there was no coming back. He had you, melting like chocolate in the palm of his hand. Because he saw you too, like no one else ever had before.

***

It’s late afternoon when C2-B35 comes in from the garage bleeping about the line at the pharmacy. She’d gone with Ezra to pick up your medication after getting your doctor to call in something new for your joint pain. Ezra could have gone by himself but, because of an incident early in your dating history when there’d been a mix-up, Ceetoo almost always insists on going with him—and he learned a long time ago not to fight a stubborn astromech.

Ezra finds you on the sofa where you’ve been trying to relax, the pain in your back making it hard to even lie still. He knows better by now than to tell you that you’ve been working too hard, that you should take more breaks. He knows to help you up, taking you gently into his arms and kissing your hair. By the time he hands you the tablets, you’re already feeling a bit of relief.

You take the medicine and let out a heavy sigh, resting your head on Ezra’s chest before whispering a thank you. 

“I wish I could heal,” he says.

“We still don’t know if that kind of healing would help me,” you say. “Genetic condition.”

It’s a dance you dance every time you have a flare like this, bad enough that Ceetoo insists on contacting your doctor. 

“I met a kid once who could do it. His dad said he could nullify the effects of a neurotoxin. Close a wound like it had never been there at all.”

“What did the kid say about it?”

“The kid doesn’t talk much. Still working through some things, I think.”

He gets quiet, and from the look in his eyes you know that he’s gone somewhere in his mind lost you can’t follow. It’s been 25 years since he last saw his adoptive father, the man who’d trained him in the Force, and there are some wounds that time never quite heals. Ezra is still working through some things, too.

“Hey,” you say. “Come back to me.”

He smiles, his eyes bright as he gently squeezes your arm. “I’m right here, sunshine.” 

The medication starts to hit, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You reach for his face, the sharp line of his bearded jaw, the parallel scars on his left cheek. “Just as you are, you’re enough, Ezra. I don’t need a Jedi. I just need you.”

C2-B35 beeps irritably before retiring to her room, reminding you that you haven’t eaten since breakfast. 

“Thank you, Ceetoo,” you call, with a promise that you’ll have a proper dinner.

“Is it helping?” Ezra asks. “The medicine?”

“It is,” you say. “Finally.”

“Have you really not eaten all day?”

Your face tells him everything. 

“Right,” he says. “Dinner. I could make some quick dumplings? I think I froze some last time to fry later…I’d just have to make the sauce, really.”

He’s up and in the kitchen, pulling jars of spices out of the pantry, and you know he can already taste this comfort dish, and so can you.

So much of his life had been unstable after Ezra’s parents disappeared. He was on his own at such a young age, and then after a few short years in the Rebellion he ended up in exile on Peridea. Now, everything he had felt like a luxury to him: a permanent home, a pair of naughty indoor loth-cats, soft clothes he wore without consideration for armor. He’d told you about learning to cook when he came back to Lothal and, now that he has access to just about any ingredient for any dinner in the galaxy, he has every intention of not only enjoying the luxury of any hot meal he can dream up, but to make sure you enjoy food as well. When Ezra offers to cook, you never say no.

“Ezra?”

“What do you need, love?”

“I need you to kiss me.”

And he does, pulling you up from the sofa, taking your face in his hands as he presses his lips to yours, his neatly trimmed beard soft against your skin. You’re lacing your fingers through his dark curls when he pulls away to look right into your eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whisper.

And he replies, “I can’t imagine being anywhere else.” 

***

It was night before you left the caf bar and, at this realization, Ezra insisted on walking you home. “Unless you don’t feel comfortable with that,” he’d said. “I would understand. It’s just dark out and…”

And something about being with Ezra just made you feel safe. Even on that first night. You’d never let a strange man walk you home before—it was on its face a bad idea. But you’d stayed out much later than you normally would, and the idea of being alone felt far more unsafe than being with this charming man.

“I don’t normally do things like this,” you told him, the words coming out way too fast, just a block from your building.

“I figured,” he said. “For what it’s worth…I haven’t done anything like this in quite a while.

This did surprise you. “Walked someone home?”

There was a playful tone to his voice when he replied, “Approached a beautiful stranger in a caf bar.” 

“You sure are bold for someone who doesn’t regularly…do whatever this is.”

“I just…” he started and paused, taking a breath. “This is going to sound like a line, but I just felt so drawn to you.”

“In the Force?”

“Maybe.”

“It does sound like a line,” you said. “But somehow I believe you. Jedi mind trick?”

“I’d never actually—”

“I know.”

You were both standing outside your door, a cool evening breeze in the air. You took all of him in—his firm chest beneath the deep v of his tunic, his dark hair catching on the wind, those blue eyes that seemed to see right past all of your walls. You’d met this man just a few hours ago but, beyond all reason, you so wanted to—

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, the words falling from his lips as if he hadn’t considered the consequences.

You nodded and he took a step closer, cupping your face in his hands, his nose brushing yours as he leaned in to press the most delicate kiss to your lips. And you felt his smile just as you felt that joy in yourself—a spark of something unlike anything you’d felt before. Maybe it was the Force, but every inch of your being wanted to be close to this man as you reached for his face, drawing him nearer, slipping a hand into his hair as the kiss deepened.

“I should go,” Ezra said, breathless into your ear.

“Why?” you asked.

“I have an appointment.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Then stay.”

Nervously you fumbled with your keys, dropping them not once but twice as you tried to open your door, Ezra eventually placing them steadily into your hand, and just the touch of his fingertips against your palm sent a pleasant shiver through you. Quickly you shooed an alarmed Ceetoo away as you entered. Unlike you, her memories included files from the war, and she recognized Ezra as soon as she saw him. Beeped out something along the lines of this one’s mostly trustworthy and I’m going to charge.

“Mostly?” Ezra said, almost in a whisper. “I wonder what she’s heard.”

You bite back a laugh. “I just need you to know I don’t normally do this either.”

“Okay.”

“I could make some tea.”

“Sure.”

But his arms were around you again and you both stumbled toward the sofa, falling into the cushions wrapped in each other like teenagers, wholly unworried about anything else in the galaxy.

That tea didn’t get made for hours. And it was nearly dawn when you retired to your bedroom and Ezra fell asleep on your sofa, your loth-cat sitting at his feet. When you woke, he was gone, a note left on your kitchen counter: Had to work this morning, but I hope you’ll call me. You traced your finger over the comms code left in scratchy handwriting below, wondering for a split second if this could be real. But if you closed your eyes you could still feel the sensation of his fingertips ghosting over your cheek when you’d handed him a blanket the night before. His voice when he’d whispered in your ear, “Sleep well, sunshine.” 

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! They really gave us Hot!Ezra in the Ahsoka series and I'm just here to be a gremlin about it. I hope this fic made you feel seen and loved.

I have a taglist now! Sign up here if you want to be tagged in future fics. (And choose if you only want to be tagged for certain characters.) In the meantime, I’m tagging my taglist as well as some folks who have been reblogging my fics. Love y’all!

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[siri-ike]

2500 hours of audio

Authers note: to be completely honest I forgot about this until I got a notification that someone rebloged it. So I guess have a part two.

Part 1

reasearch links: affects of isolation

Donnie's nice and accurate account of events in exact detail and order of occurrence, category 6: severe injuries and illnesses. Part 172: Leo's recovery from the prison dimension part 1.

"Mission log. I've managed to avoid the enemy for now"

"Enemy? He must be talking about Kraang."

playing hour 59.

"59? No, Shelldon. Rewind to the start."

If Donnie didn't know better, he'd say Leo had been listening to these himself. Even if we accept that he'd been stuck for a bare minimum of 2500 hours, assuming he hadn't talked to it the full week he had it before the prison dimension, and also assuming that he was talking to it 24/7 from capture to rescue. Which is unlikely, even for him.

104 days is just so hard to even comprehend.

Donnie looks over at Leo, sleeping peacefully.

"I'm... sorry you had to endure that, Nardo."

rewind complete.

"Play recording."

"Leo's notes: found some jewelry that fell into the sewer. Mostly, engagement rings, wedding rings, and class rings. None of them fit me, of course, so I'm gonna sell them for pizza money."

Click.

"Shelldon, skip to when he got sent to the prison dimension."

=]

Right, gotta reprogram his artificial intelligence.

"Fast forward 10 minutes."

He could probably get a solid 10 minutes of rambling in a week.

"I don't know how to lead. Raphs, the oldest, why couldn't he just stay leader? Or if it had to be someone else, why not pick April? She's just as good at rushing in without a plan. Maybe even better. Or Mikey, he can get anyone to like him. Remember when he got all the kids in the mystic library to follow him?" Leo shudders audibly. "Maybe I should just ask dad. Or maybe I should wait for Donnie to finish rebuilding Shelldon so I can ask him and then have him erase his own memory. Yeah, that's it. Don! Buddy! Tello. What's up?"

Click

"I remember this. He asked me about my progress rebuilding you. I thought he actually wanted to hear about the process of, ugh never mind, it's not important. Shelldon, fast forward 2 minutes."

Click.

"Leo's notes: Pick up 125 pizzas, any toppings."

Finally.

"Leo's notes: uhm, sorry I haven't talked in a while, things got really crazy for, I think it was a few days. Anyway, Kraang got bored of kicking my shell for so long. I could have sworn I'd be dead by now, but it's like no matter what he does to me, I can't die."

"OK, I've been fiddling with the wrist comm for a while, Donnie put a bunch of 8 bit games on it like frogger, snake, and pong. At least I'll have something to do. At least until I run out of battery... I definitely need it too, It's barely been, what 8, 9 hours? And I'm already talking to a photo."

Click.

Donnie looks up from sanitizing his surgical equipment (ok, so it's really Leos, but it's not like he's using it right now) to remark snidely

"As if I would make a machine that runs on batteries. These babies run by replenishing quartz energy converters. You just have to move it around to charge it. I got the idea from these old watches, you know just because an idea is old doesn't mean it can't be utilized by my extreme gen-"

He stops as he looks over at his unconscious brother.

"Some other time, perhaps."

setting reminder for "other time"

"Shelldon, disregard previous order."

reminder canceled

Donnie sits back down and presses a button on his console.

"Update. I beat snake. Turns out if you manage to make the snake fill the whole screen, the game just ends. And it only took me like- 178 hours according to the time log... I can't believe I've been playing snake nonstop for 178 hours. I'm not even tired or hungry. It makes sense kind of. I mean, they were in here for a thousand years, weren't they? Probably don't need food or sleep"

"Dear wrist comm, Kraang found me again. spent a couple hours getting thrown around, totaly ruined my frogger streak. I could have sworn he cracked your screen. Can things also not 'die' here?"

"I think I've been here for about 8 to 10 days. Hopefully, the next thing Don adds to the wrist comms is a clock. Maybe he's hearing this all the way back home. Are you? Are you listening in on me? Sneaky pancake."

"Kraang ruined my rock sculptures of you guys! Can you believe that? He's suck a jerk. We have an entire dimention! It's not like I go around breaking the stuff he makes. Even if he did make things, I wouldn't destroy it! I almost feel bad for the other two Kraang. I can't imagine having this guy as a brother."

"I ran into some people here. They looked somewhat human. Like the aliens in the first Jupiter Jim film: the 1968 classic Jupiter Jim's Atomic adventure in space. Before they had the budget for alien costumes or a full 20 minutes of film. So they just hired some college students and heavily contoured them. Exept the guys I met were also short. So, short. Like. Shorter than me, anyway, I'm gonna follow them to see what's up."

Click.

"That's strange I didn't pick up any other life signs. Check again."

the only signs of life picked up by Leo's wrist comm were his own and kraang

"They got a flying car, it looks so 60s. I half expect it to have lava lamp floors."

"Reminder: ask Donnie to make the floor in my room a lavalamp."

"Wait, no, a waterbed floor. That way, the whole floor is a bed."

"I got even closer, and they use 60s slang, too. Like daddyo, check and far out. I'm pretty sure I heard one of them say the word splitsville. I'm gonna try to talk to them. How do I look... yeah, like a homeless person, I know, I meant more like. Do I look approachable?... No, no raving loonatic is not my idea of approachable. Hang on."

"Ok, I dusted off my bandana, harness, and wrappings. Is this presentable enough?... too bad, cause it's the best we're gonna get."

Click

"Maybe it's a robot? Inorganic life wouldn't be detected on the scanners. That would explain why we can't hear a response. It's just communicating through text." Donnie denies.

"They call themselves Neutrinos. Their people are the original inhabitants of the prison dimension. Which means that somehow, they have been avoiding the Kraang for generations. Isn't that great, I'm not alone."

"Is there such a thing as interdimentional ethics?"

"If I had a nickel every time our world sent genocidal balls of over-chewed gum to the neutrinos dimention, I'd have two nickels. It's not a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice."

"It happened, I've officially survived a whole month in the prison dimension. Wooo." Leo says flatly. "Should have had the foresight to bring a cake, no; pizza... who am I kidding? If I had either, I would have eaten it by now."

"I met the Neutrinos again. Currently following their directions to a village inside a meteor. I can't wait to spend some time with people. I was about to start losing it."

"They've got everything here. Plants, technology, people, a religion. I guess those just pop up whenever you have a group of people living together."

"They're no teenage mutant ninja turtles, but it's a community. And if I'm being completely honest, I think I would even take the company of Meat Sweats right now over nothing."

"I guess this place isn't without strings attached. If I want to stay, I have to join a religious faction. I thought it was all one belief system, but it turns out there are three major ones and, like, 20 small ones. All of them want me on their side, and I suspect that whichever one I choose will try to use me to 'sort out' the others as they put it... but... I can't be alone again. I was alone for 36 days, and it was,-" Leo's voice breaks. "... I can't do that again." He stutters.

"Ok, what would Lou Jitsu do? Dad would probably pick the cannibalism faction. So I can rule that one out. What would Leo do?... I would pick the most powerful group because they've been offering me the most. I can't do that, I'm pretty sure they are evil. They wanted all neutrinos shorter than 3 feet to classify as property. That's like, almost half of them. The second most powerful is no better because they want all neutrinos who have antena to be executed. What is wrong with these people? What would Donnie do? The permanent social distancing faction. Eh, ruling that one out, too. Raph, probably the solving everything with love and snuggles faction. Nice but impractical against Kraang. Plus, their leader tried to make me assassinate the leaders of other factions so they might be messy. April would try to expose each of these dangerous liars, but it seems like everyone already knows they're corrupt. Mikey... he'd just take them over. I guess I could do that. I mean, I'm much bigger and stronger than all of them put together. No, then I would be ruling through force, and I've only lived here for 3 days. I can't decide what's best for them when they've survived well over a thousand years on their own. I think the best choice would be to leave. I can't be of any help here."

"Donnie! Time for breakfast!" Mikey shouts from outside the room

Click.

"I'll be right there"

"Was that Leo's voice? Is he awake?" He asks excitedly.

"No, just some recordings. Could you bring my dinner in here? I can't leave him alone."

"You look awful. Did you sleep? And, no, you can't have breakfast here because Draxum said he needs to look at your wounds." Mikey waves his arms around, showing off the new bandages and braces.

Donnie looks guiltily at Leo, still sleeping.

"I'll stay. I'll even snuggle him. He won't miss you a bit, " Mikey said teasingly, clearly trying to get a response.

And usually, that would get a rise out of him. But right now, Donnie doesn't want to be missed. He just doesn't want his brother to be alone anymore.

Donnie hasn't even left the room before Mikey's gotten all cuddly in bed with Leo. Turtle shells aren't exactly the softest blanket to wrap yourself in, but Leo probably wants to be touched way more than he wants to be comfortable. Besides, it's well past time for Donnie to get the cracks on this arm examined. Yeah, that's it. It's not like he's avoiding the other 2489 hours of Leo's mad ramblings.

"Hmn," Leo purrs,leaning into Mikeys affectionate embrace.

"I knew you'd appreciate a good cuddle 😘. Even if you sleep for a thousand years, I'll still hold you tight." A realization dawns on Mikeys face. "I might be dead by then, so you'll just be nuzzling a skeleton 🤭. But at that point, you really can't be picky."

good morning, donnatello. would you like to continue playing the recordings

"Shelldon, I'm Mikey. Donnie left the room."

do any of us truly leave the room

"What?"

playing recording

"Wait, no -"

"Nothing is real! All of it, it was a hallucination. The Neutrinos, the flying car, Barbara Walters, the village. It was just my imagination... is anything real? Is Kraang even real? Are you real?!"

"Leo?"

"IS THIS ALL THERE IS? Just wandering around forever, talking to myself, and making up others to talk to?"

"Leo," his voice fell flat this time.

"They're really not coming to save me. I probably told them not to. That sounds like me. But, I still thought. *sniff* This is so selfish. If they tried to get me out, they'd risk releasing Kraang. It's better this way. *sniff* They're better off without me. Sure, they'll be upset at first. But, then. Raph'll be less stressed, Donnie will be free to focus on his own projects instead of constantly building stuff I ask him to." He inhails unsteadily. "Someone else'll be team medic, probably Don or April, and they'll figure out that Mikey needs glasses. Real glasses. Which means he won't crash into stuff anymore because they'll actually deal with it instead of putting it off to avoid sneak attacks from doctor feelings, doctor delicate touch, and doctor positive." He sounds out of breath. "Dad finally won't have to deal with me either. He won't have to admit he was wrong to make me lead. And April can finally graduate without me constantly distracting her. *sniff* Th'this is b'better."

"Shelldon, stop the recording." Donnie says from the doorway.

"He, he," Mikey blubers out. "How long was he..." he's too mortified to finish.

"By this point, at least more than a month and 3 days. If we assume every 11 hours is another month. That means it would have taken 227 months to fill up the whole thing." Donnie pauses to see the horror in mikeys eyes. "That's 19 years."

[ambrosiababy]

(Preemptive) FAQ

EDIT: ill block anyone without an age in bio or minors. Put your age in your description or pinned.

[personal questions]?

Mid 20s, prefer they/them pronouns, draw for fun. Everything else i prefer to keep private.

You can call me whatever; some derivative of this handle, 'hey you', anything. 👍

What fandoms are you in here?

For now p much exclusively Degrees of Lewdity; if by some miracle i find another porn/kink thing that tickles my art bone, who knows? (feel free to rec me stuff)

Will you post uncensored art/where can I find uncensored versions?

Based on tumblr's TOS, I don't think I can 😔 and I am not on other sites so I don't think it'll be possible for now.

i have figured out how to post links but in an attempt to not get sniped/reported as spam i'll be reblogging the original posts with uncensored versions and tagging as 'extra bits' because i think im funny

Who are your favorite DOL NPCS?

Eden, Bailey, Winter, Sydney

Avery and Briar for cash cow reasons lmao

Do you take [requests/commissions/etc]?

No commissions; ive found my current schedule doesn't allow me to finish comms on a reasonable timeline. I'm not opposed to requests but I p much draw only as a hobby now so if the request doesn't hit it probably won't happen...

tldr you can ask but I make no promises

Do you have another art account?

Not one I will ever be linking here and vice versa. If you somehow recognize my art on another blog we'll just have our mutual 'what were YOU doing at the witch's sabbath 👀' moment quietly (please keep it to yourself)

[petruchio]

hi caroline, i hope this is okay to ask, but could you talk a little bit about your "post-graduation, getting a job" journey? i also majored in literature, and graduated last fall. i wasn't actively job searching bc i planned to go to grad school, but when i didn't get in anywhere this spring, suddenly plans have shifted into Getting A Job ASAP Is The Top And Only Priority ;~; i'm almost at the point where i'm starting to regret getting a humanities degree, and wondering why past me didn't major in something more practical and lucrative, like engineering. from one lit major to another, how did you overcome this feeling of fear of being unemployable? or maybe you didn't have it all? i'd be grateful for any insight you had!! ~ sincerely, a very scared literature major

oh yeah of course!! i think ive answered a few similar questions, but i can't find them at the moment -- if i do i will come back and link them here as well, but im so happy to talk about it!! also here’s my job search tag though it’s mostly just me being insane -- it’s probably not that helpful. but let me do my best to give some helpful advice.

one thing i think is important to remember about getting a job with a less straightforward degree is that you don’t *have* to get a job in what your degree is in. like i don’t work in books or literature at all. my job is barely related to my degree and i kind of just stumbled into it (there is a lot of luck involved!) and now i'm just trying to do my best? i figure it will lead me to the next thing, and that will lead me to the next, and eventually ill find my place. while i do have my weekly existential crises, i am actually pretty chill about my career because i am only 22 and i know i don’t know anything at all yet, so how am i supposed to know what my career calling is? i say this just to say basically don’t pressure yourself to be like, the foremost editor at a top publishing house or a prize-winning journalist right out of college. (great if you are!! but it’s not a requirement.) like if you’re not interested in doing journalism (i wasn’t, personally) don’t feel pressured to do it. there’s nothing commanding you write articles just because you have a literature degree.

one thing to ask yourself -- what have you done that you enjoyed? i had a student internship doing comms work that i enjoyed, so i put that on my resume and searched for jobs with similar tasks. it doesn’t have to have been an amazing internship at a famous top company where you were the star intern for the entire year. but did you do research with a professor? work somewhere on campus? write for the school newspaper? was there one class where you really excelled? those are all great things to put on your post grad resume and use them in interviews! hiring managers KNOW you were a student. they’re not expecting you to have a fully developed resume yet! they want to know what you’re good at — your experiences so far will take you farther than you are probably currently thinking they will.

my other best advice is DO INFORMATIONAL INTERVIEWS. these literally saved my life. for the record, yes they are terrifying and yes they are super awkward. but i think they are the best thing you can do while job searching, especially as a new grad. reach out to alums on linkedin (bonus points if you have the same major!) and ask your college career center if they have a way to connect you with other alums. send them a cold message saying basically this:

"Hi (name)! I am a new graduate from/current student in X major at X university, and I am currently exploring my career options for after graduation. (Sentence saying we have xyz in common, major, university, career goal). I saw your profile, and I really admire your career path. I was wondering if you had (10, 20, 30) minutes for a quick phone call or Zoom chat to talk more about your experience in the industry? Thank you so much!"

you will be surprised by how many people will take you up on this!! and in those, i would ask basically — “can you tell me a bit about your career path” “what led you to your current position” “do you have any suggestions what titles to look for as entry level job in your field?” and things like that. (that last one helps a lot — you have never worked in the career world before! there is probably a job title you don’t even know exists that is an entry level role in a field that appeals to you.) they will do most of the talking -- just take good notes and ask thoughtful questions and you are golden :)

the great thing about informational interviews is that not only can you make great connections and get really helpful advice, but it also gives you good practice with the language and conversational style of people in the career sphere. you have been a student up until now -- and that’s fine! but talking to people who are established in their career can help you focus your own interview skills, literally just by listening to them talk and hearing how they talk about their role. it helped me TON in interviews to just have that language, because as a student, it just wasn’t something i was familiar with. it’s good, low stakes practice for improving your job interviews once you get to that stage.

my last piece of advice with these interviews is don’t go in expecting them to offer you a job -- that basically never happens. BUT! sometimes they will tell you what to search for! sometimes they will hook you up with a recruiter! sometimes they will tell you that this career path sucks and not to pursue it under any circumstances! all of those are great outcomes and you will learn something you didn’t know before. the great thing about informational interviews is that they are INFORMATIONAL -- and getting that information is a really good first step, especially if you didn’t do a lot of career prep work during undergrad (i know i didn’t 🤪)

also just know that job hunting SUCKS. it’s demoralizing, it’s depressing, it can make you feel really bad about yourself. there’s no good way around it, and i wish it wasn’t like that, but i think acknowledging that can be good just so you don’t feel like you’re drowning and that you’re the only one going through it. it sucks. im sorry. having a job also sucks. everyone goes through it. that’s just… life i guess.

but also remember that you are not your job or your career. you are a whole person with passions and talents and drive that have no connection to whatever it is that you will end up doing for work. don’t let it get you down too much. it will all work out. everything will be fine. you are smart, you are talented, and most of all, you are loved by so many people who couldn’t care less what you do for a job. me included!! if you’re reading this -- i love you! and im super proud of you. you graduated. that’s a huge accomplishment. now go kick some job searching butt!! and negotiate your salary. always negotiate your salary ;)

[thelovelylolly]

Perfect

Summary : You were the perfect padawan and jedi knight. You had everything in line and under control, which may or may not have caused you to catch Obi-Wan Kenobi’s eye.

Warnings : None :) the only thing is the reader is depicted with having longer hair, or long enough hair to pull into a bun. (also not proofread bc im lazy)

Notes : instead of us simping, how about he simps for us? am i right guys? also the start isn’t my favorite and a lil weak. also pt 2, sorry i’ve been dead for over a month now, i havent had motivation to write that much and school is ending which meant testing :) hopefully ill get my motivation back so i can pump out more fics

Ever since you were a youngling and padawan, your master and other jedi praised you for being the perfect example of a new jedi. You got all the training forms down quickly, you were in control of your force abilities and you were always on time to everything.

It wasn’t even hard for you to do so, it was just natural for you. So that’s what stood out Obi-Wan Kenobi the most. You and him had classes together, bunked near each other and advanced around the same pace. You two were knighted around the same time as well.  

You even helped Obi-Wan out when his padawan, Anakin, caused him stress and trouble. Especially during the Clone Wars. You were a very put together general and your clone squadron was highly renowned, so you were ready to go help 501st and, if needed, the 212th. In Obi-Wan’s eyes, you were perfect 

Now, here you two were, working together again. You were on Obi-Wan’s star destroyer and the two of you, along with both of your clone squadrons, were tasked to go check in on a planet. The Republic had gotten reports of Separatist forces trying to turn the planet against the Republic. You and Obi-Wan were standing around a hologram of the planet with points highlighted where there were attacks.

“I saw we spread our forces out in order to reach all those areas quicker,” Obi-Wan commented, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

You put your hands on your hips. “I agree with General Kenobi. Cody, go tell the men our plan. Once we get on planet, we’ll split into groups then and spread out,” you replied.

Cody saluted you and left, leaving you and Obi-Wan alone. Your gaze fell on Obi-Wan, who was avoiding it. “General Kenobi,” you said, breaking the silence.

His head flicked towards yours, a little bit of blush forming on his cheeks. “Yes General L/N?”

“I’ve been sensing your emotions shifting a lot lately, is everything alright?” You asked, your head titling to the side ever so slightly. Your question made Obi-Wan’s blush increase. 

“Uh,” he paused to clear his throat and think of a excuse, “it’s nothing, just some stress with Anakin is all.”

You hummed as a reply and nodded. “Well, we should go get to the transport ships.”

-----

The trip to planet was easy and so was splitting up. Your men, along with the 212th, were assigned a area of the planet to patrol. Once everything was evenly divided, there was still a little bit of land to cover. It was a flat plain of tall grass with a few tall mountain formations in it. You and Obi-Wan both volunteered to cover it with land speeders.

A transport ship dropped you and Obi-Wan off with two land speeders, once again leaving you two alone. You two prepped your bikes and small amount of supplies you had. The sun was close to setting on the planet and you two planned on only taking a few hours. You pulled your hair into a neat bun so it wouldn’t become a mess from riding your speeder. Obi-Wan watched you and how the late day sunlight made you look as if you were a golden goddess.

“Are you ready to go?” You asked, snapping him out of his thoughts as you mounted your speeder.

“Oh, yes,” he quickly replied, following your actions. The two of you set off towards the setting sun, scanners ready and eyes peeled for any separatist action.

A little while into your patrol, you were getting tired of being quiet. Twilight was setting in at that point. “Do you wanna talk about your stress with Anakin? I know you mentioned it earlier and it seems intense, at least from what I can sense,” you said louder than usual, since you were speeding through tall grass.

“Well, um,” Obi-Wan paused to think of a excuse again, “I think him and his padawan are pulling risky moves in their missions.”

“Don’t they complete their missions successfully?”

Obi-Wan mentally slapped himself. Anakin and Ahsoka were very successful their missions, of course you’ve heard about them. “Uh, yeah, well-”

“Bandits.”

“What?”

“Bandits, coming our way on speeders,” you said, switching the gears on your speeder so you could speed away. You turned right and Obi-Wan followed you. After a few moments, you two saw the bandits still on your tail. “We have to shake them!”

“Let’s split up! I see four, we can each take two,” Obi-Wan replied. You nodded and turned right again while Obi-Wan turned left.

You were doing fine until you looked behind you and saw one of the two bandits following had their blaster rifle out and aiming at your speeder. You gasped as they shot. You jumped right as your speeder exploded. Luckily there was tall grass beside you so you weren’t that hurt from the fall. You had to act dead though, you sensed the bandits coming to check that you were.

Obi-Wan heard an explosion behind him and looked, seeing your speeder blow up. His eyes widened as he thought he worse. He quickly made a sharp turn with his speeder and turned around, causing the two bandits following him to crash into each other in confusion. 

Obi-Wan sped over to where you were, seeing the two other bandits speeding over to him. He jumped off his speeder and grabbed his lightsaber, activating it. As the two speeders were barreling towards him, Obi-Wan simply inhaled and exhaled. Then raced towards them, slicing through both of them. The bandits jumped off their destroyed speeders and hopped onto Obi-Wan’s, stealing it and riding off. Obi-Wan stood their for a moment before deactivating his lightsaber and running to find you. 

You sat yourself up and rubbed your head. Obi-Wan quickly made his way over to you and crouched beside you. “Did they take your speeder?” You asked.

“Yes, come on. I think I see a cave not to far from here. We can stay there for the night and you can contact Cody. My comm link was on my speeder,” Obi-Wan answered, helping you up. Your hair was messy now from the fight and your clothes were dirty from falling on the ground.

“My comm link is a little bit busted, but I think the tracker still works on it. We can activate that once we’re safe,” you replied, following Obi-Wan as he lead you to the cave that he had seen.

--

Obi-Wan was able to make a fire while you tried to fix your comm link’s tracker. You two sat in silence, the fire crackling every once in a while. Obi-Wan watched as you worked, so focused on what you were doing. Some of your hair had fallen out of it’s bun, framing your face. Obi-Wan smiled to himself.

“There, I think I fixed it,” you said, breaking Obi-Wan out of his trance. You pressed a button and moved over to the opening of the cave. “It may take a while to reach the ship since the signal isn’t that strong. I think setting it over here will give it a better chance to reach.”

You sighed and leaned your head against the cave wall, a wave of tiredness washing over you. 

“If you want, you can get some rest. I’ll take first watch,” Obi-Wan said, moving over to where you were so he could see outside. You smiled as a thank you then closed your eyes. 

You were making it harder for Obi-Wan to ignore his feelings for you. Attachments were forbidden by the jedi. With you being the perfect jedi, he didn’t want to be the reason you messed up. No matter how much a struggle it was for him.

Only a little bit in his watch, he felt something heavy fall on his shoulder. He looked over and saw your head there as quiet snores escaped your mouth. Obi-Wan smiled then went back to watching outside. Though, it wouldn’t be long until he got tired and leaned his against yours as he fell asleep.

--

The morning light shined through the cave entrance and woke you and Obi-Wan up. Your fire had died out a while ago, only the ashes and burnt ground left behind. Your comm link was right where you left it. You got up tiredly and picked it up to check on it. 

Obi-Wan stretched a little while you looked around outside. Moments later, you went back into the cave. “There’s a transport ship landing right now,” you said, taking Obi-Wan’s hand and leading him out.

He felt his face heat up at your touch. You didn’t let go of his hand as you two watched the transport ship land in the field below. “Obi-Wan, one last thing,” you started to say.

“What is it?” Obi-Wan replied.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek before letting go of his hand and making your way down to the transport ship. Obi-Wan smiled and touched where you kissed on his cheek. He watched as you met up with Cody in the field and started to explain what happened on your patrol together. Obi-Wan sighed happily before making his way down to you. You were so perfect to him.

[firstofficerwiggles]

Chapter 8: Desperately Seeking Mandos

Link to Chpt. 7, Link to Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: M/E, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT, oral sex (F and M receiving), explicit description of sex (still romantic smut though), canonical violence

Word count: ~11K

Author’s Note: This chapter took a bit longer than I originally planned, but my semester has reached its busiest time and it’s harder to carve out as much time as I’d like to write. So, thank you for being patient with me. Also, I would like to send a special thank you to @imthemandalornow​ for being an excellent source of inspiration -- you’re the best, darling. As always, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

You sit in the passenger seat of the Razor Crest as you stare out at the blue glow of hyperspace, normally you find it pretty and rather peaceful, but today you’re sitting tense and fraught with worry. Din monitors the scanners regularly and it appears as if you have avoided detection by any Imperial vessels. Still, the feeling of unease stays with you. Din talks to you about some possible planets you could try to avoid detection, but neither of you seem very sure about what your next move should be. You’re distracted from having to decide when the comm dings with an incoming transmission.

“Princess and Mando, are you there? It’s Mistress Eira.” Her image comes in over the holo and she looks distressed.

“We’re here, Eira,” Din replies. You come over to stand close to him so you can see the holo better.

“I’m so glad to hear your voice, Mando, I was so worried for you both, something terrible has happened here,” she tells you in a serious voice. “There were ex-Imperial officers here; they killed Mistress Sigrid.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that, Eira,” you tell her with a heavy heart, “Was anyone else hurt?”

“No, but, honestly you shouldn’t shed any tears over Sigrid,” Eira sounds angry now, “She had some type of deal with them, apparently she was helping them find you. I’m calling to warn you.” You gasp at this news, you didn’t expect such treachery from Sigrid.

“Eira, do you know who any of the Imperials were?” You feel like you already know what her answer will be.

“Yes, the man that killed Sigrid is a Commander Kerrick Hoven, we have security footage of their interaction and then the shooting,” Eira confirms your worst fear, “I have to tell you, Princess, the man seems obsessed with you, the footage of him is unsettling, he was… talking to you, well, an image of you.”

“I’m sorry, Eira, I had no idea he was looking for me, I haven’t seen him in years and I never would have thought that I was putting anyone in danger,” Ok, technically you did know there were Imps after Din and the baby, but not you too. But who could have predicted that they’d find you on Angel One of all places?

“It isn’t your fault,” she says, “We’ve discovered that Sigrid has been in contact with the Empire for years making many underhanded backdoor deals.” Eira pauses for a moment and then says, “Listen, I’m going to send you the security footage, I think you should see what I mean about this man, you need to know what he’s like.”

“Alright, thank you, Eira, any information we can get about him will be helpful,” you say.

“Do you have any information about their ship?” Din asks Eira.

“Oh yes, I’ll send all that we have to you now,” she replies.

“Eira, thank you for helping us, you’re a true friend,” you tell her before she ends the holo.

A few minutes later, the files she promised come through. Din reviews the information for Kerrick’s light cruiser and confirms that it was the one the scanners detected as you were leaving Angel One. After he’s stored all the pertinent details about the ship, you know it’s time to see the second file.

As the holovid begins to play, you watch as Kerrick goes from an icy calm officer, to an angry bully, and then to a disturbing ex-lover. You clutch Din’s hand as you watch and you cringe in horror, as it continually gets worse. When Kerrick finishes his creepy soliloquy to your image, you feel ill.

“Oh, cyar’ika, come here,” Din stands and pulls you into his arms, “Don’t cry, my love, you’re safe here with me.”

You didn’t even realize there were tears streaming down your cheeks until he says that. You let your arms come around him tightly and you try to even out your breathing. Din rubs your back and murmurs soothing words to you and slowly you feel yourself calm down. With your face still pressed against him, you say,

“I had no idea Kerrick still thought about me, let alone that his feelings for me have become so twisted, ugh and he still calls me his ‘doll’, I always hated that, even when we were a couple… I can’t believe we ever were,” your voice shows your disgust.

“I’ll do everything in my power to keep him from you,” Din pledges to you.

“I know that you will, Din,” you murmur against his chest. You hear a sad little coo and look over to the child who is looking back at you with teary eyes.

“Oh sweetie,” you say, and you go over to him, pick him up, and hold him tight to your chest, “I’ll be alright,” you look back to Din, “We’re all going to be alright,” you promise.

“Maybe you should take him downstairs and try to get some more rest?” Din suggests his voice full of concern, “I’ll reach out to my contacts and work on finding us our next destination.”

You’re feeling exhausted and so you pull Din into a hug with you and the little one, before heading down the ladder and crawling into your bed. You don’t bother to put the child in his hammock and instead let him cuddle up next to you. You rub his back as you watch his tiny face and see as he slowly drifts off to sleep. Eventually your own eyes start to feel heavy and you fall asleep too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frustrated, Din ends another holocall without much to show for it. He’s been at this for almost two hours now and he still has no idea where to go, or what the best course of action will be. He knows he needs to be more patient, he’s made the calls for assistance and now he has to see what comes from them. Still though, the churning in his gut keeps him far from patience and instead brings him doubt and worry. It doesn’t help that he can still hear Kerrick’s disgusting words in his ear, calling you his ‘doll’ and promising to rid you of the ‘vile Mandalorian’. He’d never wanted to shoot someone through a holopad before, but as he watched that holovid his fingers were itching to pull out his blaster. When you first told him about Kerrick, Din had thought about tracking the man down, thinking maybe he’d help you get a little revenge on the man who broke your heart and betrayed you. Later, he realized that was just a silly fantasy to make himself feel important to you, but once Din understood how much you’d come to care for him, he had stopped thinking about your ex-lover altogether.

Din sighs, rolling his neck and stretching the muscles there. He’s wishing he could go down and join you in some sleep for a few hours, when the holo dings.

“Din Djarin, I hope you are well,” he hears as the Armorer’s image glimmers into view, “Word has reached me that you are being pursued once again by Imperial forces.”

“Yes, that is correct, I am seeking shelter for a few days to formulate a plan,” Din replies.

“The Covert has regrouped and joined with another,” the Armorer tells him, “You will join us here and we will assist you in your strategy.”

“I- I do not wish to endanger the Covert, I should not come to you,” Din responds, his tone regretful as he remembers all that the Covert has sacrificed already on his behalf.

“By its very nature the Covert is always in danger, it is a fact that we accept,” she states calmly, “We are gar vode, your brethren, and we welcome you in your time of need. We are always here for you. This is the way.”  

“This is the way.” Din responds and he enters the coordinates she gives him into the nav. As he does this, he tells her about you and the latest trouble that has managed to find you both. Din feels comforted by the Armorer’s genuine interest in you as he tells the story, and he greatly appreciates her willingness to help you.

Feeling a sense of relief Din after his conversation with the Armorer ends, he switches on the autopilot and heads downstairs. When he sees you and the child sleeping so soundly, Din feels a sense of contentment wash over him. As he snuggles up next to you in the bed, he knows that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you both safe and that it will be worth it no matter the cost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Din explains that you’re heading to his Covert, you feel reassured at first because you know how formidable your Mandalorian is and you can’t think of safer place to be than surrounded by a whole group of them. Nonetheless, it dawns on you that this is Din’s family that you’ll be meeting and you find yourself wishing that you were getting to meet them under better circumstances. You also start to feel a tad nervous about making a good first impression.

The Covert is currently located on Dol’har Hyde, a planet almost entirely covered in dense forests. When you land in a clearing that is just large enough for the Razor Crest, you wonder if the coordinates were correct because you can’t see any type of settlement or structures of any kind. You follow Din down a narrow forest path listening to the birds singing and enjoying the natural beauty of the place. It’s soothing and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think the planet was uninhabited. The further you go down the path, the thicker the forest becomes and it seems as if you are walking in twilight as the multitude of leaves above you block out more and more of the sun’s rays. Finally, the path appears to end and you see the opening of a cave.

“This is it,” Din says, and you look up to see a small carving of a mythosaur in the stone entrance. You get no more than five steps into the dark cavern when two Mandalorians appear out of nowhere asking you to identify yourselves with blasters raised. Different from Din, their armor is decorated with paint, one in orange and the other in blue. Once they recognize Din, they lower their weapons and greet you.

“Welcome home, Djarin,” the Mando in blue says as he thumps Din’s pauldron in greeting, “Still getting into trouble I see.”

“Vizsla, still a pain in the ass I see,” Din replies curtly.

“I’m afraid the trouble is my fault,” you speak up, not wanting Din to take the blame for your past catching up to you.

“Well hello,” Blue Mando welcomes you with a pleasant tone, “The Armorer mentioned Djarin was bringing someone with him, who knew you’d be so pretty.”

His compliment surprises you, and you stutter out, “O-Oh, thank you.”

Din makes a grunting sound as he places his hand on your lower back and steers you past the two guards, “We’re going to see the Armorer now,” he informs them.

“I’ll take you to see her,” Orange Mando offers.

“Thank you,” Din responds.

“I guess I’ll see you later then, pretty one, you too, Djarin,” the Blue Mando chuckles as you walk deeper into the cave.

As your eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting of the cave’s passageway you can see that there are drawings on the walls, many featuring Mandalorian helmets. They look like they could be children’s sketches given the simplicity and the height of most of them. It makes you smile, knowing that you’ll be somewhere with families, maybe your own little one will be able to make a few friends while you’re here. Eventually, you can hear the sounds of other people and when the passage opens up to a large room in the cave you see a comforting and homey site.

This part of the cavern has a small pool in the middle and it creates a beautiful soft glow as the water reflects back the artificial lights that have been arranged throughout the space. Around the room, there are small groups of people chatting with each other, playing sabacc, helping children with schoolwork, polishing armor, and performing all sorts of small domestic tasks. It makes you smile to yourself. Everyone here wears helmets, including the children, and all of the adults wear armor too. You notice a few helmets turning towards you as you move past the groups and you wonder if you must seem odd to them with your face uncovered.

There is a second passageway on the other side of the room and you follow Orange Mando down this next path. As you walk, you can feel a hot wind run through the tunnel and you hear a metallic clanking in an almost rhythmic pattern. The noise grows louder and soon you reach a warm room where the Armorer is working. You are mesmerized by her striking golden helmet and the graceful but powerful movements she makes as she forges a piece of beskar armor. When she sees Din, the child, and you, she pauses in her work and nods in your direction. Din motions for you to sit on a stone bench and the three of you sit patiently as she finishes her work.

“I see your foundling is doing well,” the Armorer comments, “And this is the caregiver.” She looks over at you and you offer her a smile and a nod. She rests her tools on her workbench and comes over to you. Din stands and you mirror his movement. The Armorer offers you her hand and welcomes you to the Covert.

“Din Djarin tells me that you are a very special woman, it is clear you have been a positive influence in his life.” The Armorer speaks in such a deliberate way that you feel honored to hear such praise from her.

“Thank you, I’ve tried to do my best to help him and we’ve grown very close, but I feel such regret that it’s my fault we’re in trouble now,” you admit to her and you know your face shows the guilt you’re feeling.

“It isn’t your fault,” Din corrects you, “You have no control over Kerrick’s actions.”

“Din is correct,” the Armorer affirms his statement, “You are not responsible for the actions of an evil man who seeks to control you. We will do all that we can to assist you. This is the way.”

“This is the way,” Din repeats.

“Thank you, I am beyond grateful for your help, and for making me welcome with your tribe,” you tell her.

“You are welcome,” she responds, “I must ask now though to speak to Din alone with the other members of our tribe, if you do not mind.”

“Of course.”

You hear footsteps behind you and you see that several other Mandalorians have joined you. Several of them give you a nod in greeting in your direction and a woman with purple armor steps forward.

“I can take you and the child to the place where you’ll be staying while you’re here,” she offers. You turn to follow her, but before you can, Din reaches out to give your hand a squeeze and says, “I’ll find you later, cyar’ika.”

Din watches you leave and then turns back to the Armorer, feeling a little nervous now that he is alone with her and those who remain in their tribe. His own feelings of guilt rise within him as he looks around the room and realizes how few their numbers have become.

In a low voice full of shame and remorse he says, “I am sorry for Nevarro. I can never thank you enough for helping me and the child, but I--”

“Have nothing to apologize for,” Paz interrupts him in a gravelly voice laden with emotion. Din turns his head toward him in surprise.

“We were honored to help you and we would make the same choice again,” a female member of the tribe speaks up.

“It was our duty and our privilege to fight alongside of you in Nevarro,” another tribe member says.

“You are ner vod, an important member of our tribe and we are here for you,” yet another person tells him.

One by one each tribe member speaks up to reassure Din of his place in the tribe and to express that none of them hold him responsible for the attack on the Covert in Nevarro. His eyes fill with tears and he can feel them slowly gliding down his face in response to their acceptance and love for him. He’s felt so disconnected from the tribe since being forced to flee but being with them here now, and hearing their words of support makes him feel like part of a family again. It is so much more than he could have asked for and it means everything to him.

“Th-thank you,” Din chokes out when the last person has spoken, he wants to say more but his emotions are causing a tightness in his throat and it’s all he can get out now.

“Now, let us discuss the threat against your companion,” the Armorer says.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Purple Mando leads you to a small room with modest furnishings where you are able to stow your bag of belongings. She asks if you want to rest, but you tell her that you’d rather spend time with the others if that’s alright.

“I know that little one would love a chance to run around a bit too and maybe play with some other children, if he can,” you suggest.

“That sounds like a nice idea, and you can meet some of my tribe members.” Her voice has a pleasant tone and her friendly demeanor puts you at ease.

When you’re back in the larger cavern that seems to serve as the common room for the Covert, she introduces you to a group of her friends.

“Look at your little foundling, what a cutie he is,” one of the women coos at the kiddo.

“He’s a sweetie,” another one says, “He’s welcome to go play with the other children, here, I’ll introduce him to my two boys.”

“Thank you,” you reply and you put the child down so he can toddle over to the other little children who are playing with blocks. “Be sure to share, buddy,” you call after him.

“Oh, is he in the ‘mine’ phase?” Purple Mando asks you.

“It’s hard to tell really, it’s more that he doesn’t have much time to spend with other children so he’s used to all the toys being his,” you explain.

“Ah, I see, well I’m sure he’ll be just fine,” she says in a reassuring manner.

“So, will you tell me a little about your tribe? I’ve only ever met the one Mandalorian.” You’re really curious to know more about their way of life.

“Sure, we’re happy to tell you anything you want to know.” Her friends make positive sounds and nod their heads in agreement. “But you also have to be sure to tell us all about you and your Mandalorian,” she says with a small chuckle.

You agree with a smile, and the women proceed to tell you about the tribe. They’ve been here in this Covert for quite some time now. On the other side of the cavern system there is a settlement where they can go for various necessities. Unlike Nevarro, there is less threat here so they are able to leave the Covert in small groups. The adults in the tribe have one of four principle jobs. The protectors assist with guarding the Covert and training the others in fighting techniques. The hunters are responsible for bringing in fresh meat from the surrounding forest. The crafters make weapons, vibroblades and other knives in particular, that they sell to help earn income for the tribe. Finally, the caregivers are responsible for the domestic tasks including maintaining a large garden to grow food for the tribe. There are also a few members who have special jobs like the tribe’s two healers, the Armorer, and the beroya, a bounty hunter, like Din.

“Although we hear your beroya is more skilled than ours,” one of the women says, hinting a little at the subject of Din.

“Well, he isn’t one to brag, but he always seems to be successful in catching his quarry, at least as far as I’ve seen,” you explain but you can’t keep a note of pride out of your voice.

“His tribe has only been with us for a few months, but we have heard stories about him,” Purple Mando tells you, “And they were very pleased to hear that you were coming to stay with him for a bit.”

“Really?” This surprises you because you wouldn’t have believe that Din’s tribe would give too much thought to you seeing as they’ve never met you.

“Mmhmm, yes, apparently he’s never been serious about a woman before, so they’re all wondering if he’s finally ready to settle down,” she laughs lightly as she says this and tips her helmet in your direction.

“Oh I- I don’t know about that,” you stumble over your words a bit, feeling flustered at the implication, “He um hasn’t said… I mean, I wouldn’t assume anything… I-”

“Don’t let her tease you,” another woman pipes up, “She’s a hopeless matchmaker.”

“Oh c’mon, what can I say, I just adore love and a riduurok,” Purple Mando giggles.

“What’s a riduurok?” you ask.

“A marriage ceremony,” she tells you, “When two people become each other’s riduur, or spouse.”

“Well, I appreciate learning new words in Mando’a,” you say with a chuckle, “But I don’t think there’s going to be a riduurok any time soon, unless one of you are getting married this week?”

The women laugh with you and you feel a contentment that you haven’t felt in days, it feels like you can let your guard down with them. As much as you enjoy spending time with Din, you’ve missed having friends. The afternoon passes quickly as the women fill you in on the gossip in the tribe and you watch the child playing happily with the other kids.

When Din returns to your side with several members of his tribe, he introduces you to many of them although all without names as per their tradition so you continue to refer to them in your mind by the colors of their armor. Even though some of the colors are repeated, the patterns of the paint vary sufficiently that you can easily tell everyone apart.

One woman with pink armor seems very chatty and interested in you. She asks you all about your work with languages.

“Oh, how did you know about that?” you ask surprised.

“Din told us of course,” she says pleasantly, “He’s very sweet on you and talked at length about your many accomplishments while we were catching up.” As she comments on Din’s affectionate side, she nudges him slightly with her elbow and it’s clear she’s teasing him. It’s cute and it reminds you of the way you used to tease your brother about girls.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” you whisper conspiratorially to her, “I’m sweet on him too.” You hear Din let out a chuckle at that and he rests his hand on your knee. He’s relaxed here in a way you’ve not seen before and it’s nice.

“Oh, but yes, languages have always intrigued me, I love figuring out how they work and learning about new ones,” you explain, “I’ve even learned several words in Mando’a today.”

“Which ones?” Pink is curious to know.

“Well, beroya, talking about Din, of course,” you say with a smile, “And then a few related to families, ad’ika, aliit, and buir, oh and then riduur and riduurok too.” You’re just happy you remembered all the new words.

“Hmm, riduur and riduurok, talking more about Din, I suppose?” she giggles.

“Oh! No! I- I didn’t mean in reference to him, it- it just came up…” you trail off embarrassed to have implied such a thing. You’re thankful that Din is deep in conversation with one of the other men and doesn’t appear to have heard that.

“Don’t worry, I’m only playing,” Pink reassures you, “I’m just so happy with my own riduur. It’s only been eight months and I’m already expecting.” She tells you this excitedly and places a hand on her lower abdomen tenderly where you can see a small baby bump.

“Congratulations!” you beam at her with delight, “That’s so exciting.” You ponder her news for a moment and then ask, “What’s it like? Being pregnant, I mean? I’ve always been curious.”

“Well, at first I just felt really tired and I could throw up at a moment’s notice,” she explains, “But now, I’m further along and I just feel really happy and excited. Plus my riduur is just so proud and happy too.” She points to a man in black armor. Then she leans in closer to you and drops her voice low as she whispers, “And honestly, the sex has never been better. You’d think he was trying to get me pregnant twice.”

You laugh merrily along with her, not realizing that you’re drawing Din’s attention back to you when you pipe up to say, “I’ve always fantasized about being pregnant, it seems like such a special time, knowing that a new life is growing within you.” Your face takes on a dreamy, wistful look as you say this to her. But then thinking about your reality, you say, “I guess it’s just a far-off wish, but it’s fun to dream about it.”

Din’s helmet snaps to look directly at you when you say this, and, as it turns out, so do several other curious helmets. Something deep inside Din’s chest pulses with a desire to make your wish come true. Suddenly he can see what you would look like round and swollen with his child, the beautiful glow you would have, the tender way you would look at him when he’d caress your belly, and so much more. He wants to say something, anything to you, but he can’t think of the right words, especially not in front of so many people. Happy giggles from you and your new friend distract him from these thoughts.

Pink giggles at your statement and then leans in to stage whisper, “You should be careful saying that around a bunch of Mandalorians, one of them might take you up on it and put a baby in you tonight.”

Her statement is rather blunt, but it just makes you laugh along with her. After the stress you’ve been under all day, you’re enjoying making a new friend and just giggling along with her. As nervous as you were about meeting Din’s tribe, you are so thankful to be here now.

“So Djarin, your woman wants a baby,” Paz ribs Din, “You know if you’re not up to the task, I’d be more than happy to oblige her.”

“Shut up, di’kut,” Din mutters at him.

“Vizsla has a point; she is a beauty, I’m surprised you’re not trying harder,” another guy sitting next to him gets in on the teasing.

“Not you too,” Din replies and gives the guy a shove.

“Maybe we should introduce ourselves, get to know her,” Paz says cheekily, then walks over closer to where you’re seated. “Hey, mesh’la, how are you doing this evening?” he nods his helmet in your direction.

“I’m pretty sure he means you,” Pink snickers.

Not wanting to be impolite, you smile kindly as you answer, “I’m having a nice time; everyone has been so welcoming.”

“That’s good; we all want you to feel welcome.” He props his knee up on a rock formation and then leans his arm down on it so he can be closer to where you are. “Maybe later you’d like a nice tour of the caverns? I know some really nice spots.”

Din stands up at this and positions himself between you and Blue Mando, “You want to ask her that again, Vizsla?”

“I dunno, maybe she’d rather see some Mandalorian sparring? Let her see how a real man fights,” Paz jeers at Din.

“Why not? I’m sure she’d enjoy watching me kick your ass.” Din taunts back.

“Whoa, guys, there’s no need for this,” you try to interrupt, but the air is thick with tension and testosterone. This seems to be an older dispute, and you’re just a convenient spark to reignite the flames of the argument. You’re worried that they might actually start fighting when the child comes to your rescue.

The little guy toddles over carrying a big piece of paper in his claws. He wants to show Din and you a picture that he’s drawn.

“Hi, buddy!” You purposely step between Din and Blue Mando to reach down and pick him up. “What do you have here?”

It’s a drawing of a stick figure family with flowers and what looks to be frogs surrounding them. One of the figures has a helmet-shaped head, another has hair that looks a lot like yours, and the third little figure has big green ears, so it’s clear that he’s drawn his own little family of Din, you, and himself.

“This is so good, buddy,” Din tells him and then he leans over to pat the kid on the head.

“You did so great, kiddo!” You say enthusiastically, feeling a bit relieved too. You lean in and kiss the child on the forehead, and then whisper, “Good job calming down your papa too.” He coos at you in his happy way and you could swear he understands everything you say to him.

Just then, a soft gonging sound rings out across the cave. You watch as the other children scramble back towards their parents and little groups begin to funnel out of the room.

“What’s happening?” you ask Pink.

“It’s time for the evening meal. The food is prepared collectively, and each family goes to collect their portion before heading to their private quarters to eat. Follow me and we’ll get you three all set up.”

You follow her and the rest of the Mandalorians towards another large room with a buffet of food. It all smells delicious and you didn’t realize how hungry you’d become. The child starts wiggling in anticipation when he sees the feast before him. He starts making little whiny sounds and grabby hands towards the dishes.

“It’s ok, sweetie,” you tell him, “We’ll get our food very soon, I promise.”

Din moves forward to begin collecting your dinner and he quickly scoops up a bun that had started to mysteriously float upward and hands it to the child so he won’t get too fussy. “Don’t get too impatient, kiddo,” he says gently reproaching the child.

You retreat to your appointed room with your meal and once you make sure the child can’t peek over at Din, you’re able to enjoy the food. For a while, you simply eat in a comfortable silence. There’s been so much going on today, it’s nice to be here where it’s more tranquil and you have a moment to yourselves that doesn’t feel as stressful as early in the day.

“I’ve really enjoyed meeting everyone here, they’re so caring and nice,” you tell Din, “Pink and Purple did a great job of introducing me to lots of people and teaching me about the Covert.”

“Pink and Purple?” He asks, confused.

“Oh, well, I don’t know anyone’s names so I’ve just been referring to them by the color of their armor in my head, Pink, Purple, Orange, Blue, you know?”

Din laughs at this and says, “You’re so adorable, cyar’ika.”

“Thanks, darling,” you say laughing a little with him, it is rather funny, “Seriously, I’ve felt so safe and at home here, even though it’s only been a few hours.”

“It makes me happy to hear you say that, cyar’ika,” he responds, “I hope you don’t mind but I told my tribe a lot about you, I wanted them to know how hard you’ve worked to take care of the child and keep him safe.”

You feel a fluttery sensation in your chest at his words, “I’m honored that you wanted to tell them about me.”

“Of course I wanted to,” Din says, “You’re very important to me.”

“You’re important to me too, Din,” you admit softly, trying not to get too choked up as you share your feelings with him. You hear him come closer to you and then he’s placing his arms around you, hugging you to his chest. His helmet is still off and you can feel him nuzzle his face into your neck and hair.

You sit like that for a while, just enjoying the closeness; you’re holding the child in your arms and Din is holding you in his. After a bit, you start to rock the child a little and hum a little song to him. He’s had a long day after running around with the other children and now that his belly is full, you can see he’s getting drowsy. As his big eyes start to blink longer and longer, you get up to put him in his little pod for the night. When you close it, you can feel Din has followed you and is standing right behind you.

“I have something for you,” he says, his voice a little gruff, but modulated so you know he’s wearing the helmet again. You turn and face him and you see he’s holding out a small leather pouch for you to take.

You smile broadly at him, “A gift for me?”

“Yes,” he confirms.

You untie the strings of the pouch and reach inside to pull out a necklace with a heart pendant made of beskar. It glimmers in the light and you can see there is a mythosaur skull imprinted on the heart. You hold it up and smile, touched by the gesture.

“Oh, it’s beautiful, Din,” you breathe out in delight, “Thank you so much. Will you help me put it on?”

You hand him the necklace and then turn away so he can clasp it at the nape of your neck. He tries to do it first with his gloves on, but then you hear him mutter, “Kriffing gloves,” followed by some shuffling before you feel his bare fingers against your skin as he finally secures the clasp for you.

“How does it look?” You ask him.

“Beautiful, just like you,” he says, before adding, “It’s made from a piece of my armor.”

“It is?” you gasp a little, “So it’s like I’m wearing a little piece of you?”

“Mmhmm,” he nods.

“Then I love it even more,” you tell him truthfully. “If I close my eyes, can I thank you with a kiss?”

“Absolutely,” Din says. You let your eyes flutter closed and then you feel his lips on yours, kissing you softly and slowly. It’s so sweet and romantic, you feel like you want to swoon. His tongue comes out to brush lightly against your bottom lip and you open your mouth letting him deepen the kiss. You pull him closer to you, running your hand up into his hair as you tug lightly and shift against him to position yourself to an even better angle. This rouses something in Din and he kisses you more passionately as his hands run down your back to your hips before pulling you flush to his body. After a bit he breaks away from your lips, only so he can trail kisses down your neck and throat, traveling further down until he kisses your chest right above the pendant.

“I’m glad you love the necklace,” Din says and you can feel his breath on your chest as his fingers lightly play with the pendant, “It… it means a lot to me, giving this to you means I feel attached to you… it means that you have my heart.”

“Oh, Din,” your voice fills with emotion, “You have my heart too.”

“Then I don’t need anything else in the galaxy, cyar’ika.” After those sweet words, Din moves back up to give you another scorching kiss.

When he pulls away this time, he rests his forehead on yours and asks, “Did you think to grab the sleep mask before we left?”

You giggle a little at that and say, “Yes, I did. It’s in the outside pouch of my bag.”

He kisses you again, “Can I get it?”

“Yes, but, do you think it will be ok with the little one right in the room with us? I mean I know he’s in his pod…” you trail off, really wanting things to continue but a little torn given the sleeping accommodations tonight.

“His pod is soundproofed, but I’m sure we can be quieter if we try,” Din replies, “But if you’re not comfortable with that, we can just sleep.”

“Well, if you think we can be quieter,” you reply honestly, “I’d rather keep going.”

“Me too,” Din says and in almost an instant, he’s back by your side slipping the mask over your eyes and kissing you soundly again.

“Cyar’ika, can I undress you?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you respond. Gently, Din removes each piece of your clothing. He is unhurried as he reveals more of you to him, almost as if you’re a present and he’s savoring the unwrapping. When he reveals a patch of skin, he pauses to kiss you there, sometimes letting his hot tongue slip out and taste you. Each time he does it, you melt a little more into his touch. When you’re completely naked, he guides you to the bed so you can lie back. He kisses your lips one more time before telling you, “Let me remove my clothing now, I’ll be just a bit.”

You wait in anticipation, and when you hear him moving closer to the bed again, you’re surprised when you feel him kissing your toes.

“Din!” you yelp in surprise.

“Shh, cyar’ika,” he murmurs, “We’re supposed to be quieter.”

“You surprised me,” you explain, but in a softer voice this time.

You feel his lips again on your feet as he starts to kiss his way to your ankle and then up your calf. He’s gradually parting your legs as he works his way up higher and higher. You can guess his destination as he places a kiss high up on your inner thigh, but then you’re surprised again when he pulls away. When you feel him kissing your other foot, you realize he’s repeating the whole process on the other leg this time. He’s taking his time kissing and tasting your skin, and it feels so good that it’s turning you on more than you can believe. This time when Din gets to your inner thigh, you’re trembling in anticipation. As he lingers, you can’t take it anymore and you start to beg him.

“Din, please,” you whine out so softly it’s almost a whimper.

“Do you want more, cyar’ika?” he says against your skin and he lets his tongue caress the very top of your thigh. It’s so good, but it’s still too far away.

“Yes, please, higher.” This time it is a whimper and you don’t even care just so long as it gets him to finally kiss and lick where you need him most.

“Well, when you ask so nicely…” Din finally brings his tongue to your pussy and licks a path from the bottom all the way up to the very top where he places a kiss directly on your clit.

You let out a soft mewling sound and he says, “Was that better?”

“Please, more,” you manage to get out in a breathy voice.

“Anything for you, cyar’ika,” Din says before licking you again in the same deliberate manner. He keeps this up, licking in long strokes but very slowly, driving you completely crazy with desire. You start to try to grind your hips against his tongue but his hands come up to hold you still.

“You’re so eager,” he chuckles, “But be patient, my love; I’ll make it good for you.” With that comment, he pushes his tongue inside you as his fingers come up to draw light circles around your clit. It feels incredible and you let out a shaky moan as he finally starts to give you more. His tongue and his lips start to explore you in earnest, tasting and sucking on your most sensitive parts, turning you into a moaning mess. It an attempt to be quieter, you hold your hand up to your mouth to muffle the sounds because you just can’t stop making them.

“Mmm, that’s a sound I like to hear,” Din says between licks, “Reminds me of when you were first on the ship with me, late at night, I’d hear you trying to be quiet as you touched yourself.”

“You heard that?” you manage to gasp out, you’d be a little embarrassed but considering where his head is now, you don’t care.

“Yes, and I lived for it,” he tells you before diving back in and picking up his pace. You keen up into his mouth as he sucks hard on your clit, like it’s the last thing he’ll ever taste, and you feel your thighs starting to quake. When he pushes two fingers deep inside you, you can feel yourself starting to tighten around them. Your pleasure builds and just when it seems like you can’t take anymore, you feel yourself coming apart all over his face and hand.

You’re still panting when he makes his way up your body and then pulls you into another passionate kiss. His enthusiasm for you is humbling, but truthfully, you feel the same way, like you can never get enough of him. You break the kiss to move down his body now; you place hot, open-mouthed kisses all down his torso. You stop at both of his nipples to tease them with your tongue and nip at them lightly. Now it’s his turn to moan as you let your hands and mouth guide you lower and lower.

“Where are you g-going, cyar’ika?” Din grounds out, his voice stuttering as your tongue delves into his navel.

“Mmmm, can’t you guess, my love?” And with that, you let your mouth envelope the head of his cock and swirl your tongue all around it. Din lets out a loud groan that is almost a whine and you smile to yourself.

“Now who needs to be quiet?” you tease before returning to let your tongue caress his shaft all over with long, wet licks.

“Aaaahhh, just feels so fucking good,” Din breathes out, his voice low.

“I’m going to make you feel amazing,” you promise, and you return to the head, rubbing your tongue across the sensitive spot just underneath before sucking him into your mouth. You go about halfway down this time before pulling off him again. You return to taunting him with licks, this time running your tongue over his balls before you resume sucking him. You repeat this teasing process, each time sucking him deeper into your mouth until you start to hum to open your throat as you begin to reach his base. When you finally take all of him, he’s practically shuddering at the sensation. You take pity on him and instead of continuing to tease, you hollow your cheeks and begin to glide up and down, showing him how much you want to please him, wanting to give him the same intense pleasure he brought you a few moments ago. You can hear him doing his best to muffle his moans as he shakes and writhes underneath you. You can tell he’s trying not to thrust into your mouth, but he can’t help bucking his hips a little and when he does, it causes your throat to constrict around him increasing his enjoyment. You can tell he’s starting to get very close, but before you can get him there, he’s pushing you away.

“No, no, wait, I… I don’t want to yet…” Din gasps.

“Are you sure? I wanted you to finish in my mouth,” you explain, still eager to resume.

Din groans a little, but moves to haul you back up against him, “If I do that right now, I don’t think I’ll be able to make love to you anymore tonight, and I want that more.”

“Oh, Din,” your voice catches a little, “I do want you to keep making love to me, but sometime, I want you to let me finish you with my mouth.”

“Yes, sometime,” he kisses you to seal the promise. Din rolls you onto your side so that your back is flush against his chest, “I want to take you like this, cyar’ika,” he says. His hands are already maneuvering your legs so he can slide himself between them, and then you feel his steely erection rubbing deliciously between your folds.

“Yes, Din… aaah, like this is perfect.” Your breath hitches in your chest as he positions himself to enter you.

“Tell me,” he says.

You reach back to cradle his head with your hand and bring him closer to you, “Take me like this, Din, I want you… I need you.”

With that, he thrusts into you in one swift motion causing all the breath in your body to push out in a gasp. As he moves within you, he winds his arm around you tight holding you close against his chest. It’s like there’s no space between you at all. His mouth attaches itself to your neck where he’s biting and sucking a new mark into your skin. You can feel him everywhere and it’s overwhelming in the best way.  It doesn’t take long for you to feel the stirring of your climax again and you start to struggle to stay quiet. In this position, every thrust hits on your most pleasurable spot deep inside you and it’s taking all that you have not to scream out Din’s name. You know he must be getting closer to his peak too, as he’s also starting to groan and grunt more.  

“Are you close, cyar’ika?” Din asks you desperately and he drops his hand to your clit to rub fast circles there. All you can get out is a whimper and a shaky breath, as you start to feel the waves of your orgasm lapping at you. Din doubles his efforts and starts to beg you, “Please, cyar’ika, please… I’m so close… want you to come first… need you to… oooh, please.”

Hearing him plead with you like that is all you need to send you over the edge and almost as soon as your inner muscles begin to flutter around him, Din is following right along with you. He holds you as tight as he possibly can as he pumps himself into you and bites down on your shoulder to keep himself from crying out. You’re so stunned by the sensation you feel like you might black out from the pleasure. You’re shuddering from little aftershocks of bliss when Din starts to speak to you again but he’s speaking in Mando’a and you can’t fully understand what he’s saying.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika,” he says reverently and turns you towards him so he can kiss you fully.

When he breaks the kiss, he speaks again, only this time in Basic, “I love you, my sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat and then you tell him, “I love you too, Din.” His lips find yours again in the sweetest, most tender kiss.

When you break apart the next time, you ask him, “Will you say it in Mando’a again?” He does and you carefully repeat it back to him. You barely get the last syllable out and he’s kissing you again, as if he can never kiss you enough. You kiss him back fervently trying to pour all of your love into it, wanting him to understand just how much you love him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next two days pass pleasantly in the Covert. Din feels pleased that you fit in so well with everyone and it warms his heart to see how eager you are to learn more about his culture. It fills him with a new hope for the future, and he lets himself daydream about being able to return to the tribe permanently with you. Still though, Din can’t ignore the danger that you’re in and each hour that passes makes him anxious that the Imps could be headed here right now. In discussing the predicament with his tribe, Din was able to come up with a plan to keep you on the move and, hopefully, to find a stronger Covert that could help you defeat Kerrick. While his tribe and the others in this new Covert offered up their fighters, Din refused to accept based on their already reduced numbers. Now each moment that passes, his unease at being caught builds. It’s on this third evening, that he brings up his worries with you.

“I think we should leave tomorrow,” Din suggests, and you can hear the concern in his voice.

“You don’t think we’re safe here?” You’d been feeling so much better since arriving, that you’d hoped you’d be able to stay longer.

“It isn’t that-- I… I don’t think we’re safe anywhere, really,” he pauses and looks down at the ground when he says, “I’m worried that if we stay any longer, I’m endangering the Covert again, like Nevarro.”

You know all about Nevarro now as the other night the Armorer and the rest of Din’s tribe spoke about it, wanting both you and the other Mandalorians to understand more about that part of their history, and as a way of honoring those who lost their lives during the battle. Din was very quiet though as the story was being told, opting to simply grip your hand tightly and listen. You could tell that he still felt responsible for the loss of the Nevarro Covert, despite his tribe’s endeavors to show everyone that only the Imperial forces were to blame.

“I understand,” you reassure Din, “We can leave tonight if you think we should, it won’t take long to get our things together.”

“Can we? I think it would be the best option.” You can hear a note of relief in his voice as you agree with him and let him know that you’ll start packing right away.

“I just need to speak to the Armorer again,” Din tells you, “I shouldn’t be too long.”

When he finds the Armorer at her forge, she appears to have been expecting him. He doesn’t know how she does it, but it’s almost as if she can anticipate his thoughts, it’s always been that way with her. He wonders for a moment if she might share some of the child’s powers.

“Din Djarin, I have the pieces you have requested,” she speaks in her carefully measured voice.

“Thank you, I appreciate that you’ve worked to complete them so quickly for me,” he responds and watches as she moves to collect two small leather pouches. When he opens the first, he pulls out another beskar pendant; this time it is a mudhorn, the exact match to the one on his pauldron. The second pouch contains three rings, one is a ring of yours that Din swiped from your jewelry collection, and the other two are matching bands of beskar, one in the same size as your ring and the other sized to fit his own finger.

“I see that she wears the heart pendant with joy,” the Armorer tells him, and then asks, “When will you ask her to join your clan?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Din admits a bit bashfully, “But I want to be prepared to ask her when the time is right.”

“You have the blessing of the tribe, if you should want it,” she declares to him, “Your woman has mandokarla and we will always welcome her.”

“Thank you, that means so much to me,” Din replies gratefully.

“You have decided to leave us,” the Armorer states, again already seeming to know his thoughts before he shares them.

“Yes, I think it is for the best.” His voice can’t contain its concern, but he knows she understands as she nods to him.

“You must do what is best for your clan. This is the way,” she confirms.

“This is the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later and you’re back in hyperspace. You’ve been following the plan that Din’s tribe helped him design, stopping at some remote outposts in hopes of finding other Mandalorians. So far, the information the Covert shared with Din has been reliable and you both feel confident in your efforts. A sudden pinging on the dash draws Din’s attention and he sees that a transmission is coming in.

“Brother, we heard you are seeking assistance,” a strong voice speaks out into the cockpit, but no holo accompanies it.

“That depends on who’s offering,” Din responds carefully.

“Our Covert has heard that you need warriors to battle against some Imps,” the voice says, “We are willing to help you in that endeavor.”

“How did you come to hear that?” Din questions the voice.

“We are in communication with many other Coverts, and heard of your needs through our contacts,” the voice explains.

Din stays quiet as he thinks; the caller’s explanation seems logical but trusting a disembodied voice also seems a bit naïve. He continues to hesitate in his response when the voice speaks again.

“We also have information about where you can find the Jedi.”

“What are your coordinates?” Din asks, his mind made up. If they know about the Imperials and the Jedi, then they must have spoken to his Covert.

“We’re transmitting them now,” the voice informs him.

“Thank you, for being willing to help us,” Din says graciously.

“Ibic mando’kar,” the voice states.

“This is the way,” Din replies before ending the call.

As soon as the transmission is cut off, you speak up, “Do you think they’re the Mandalorians we’ve been searching for?”

“They must be, I know they’re an older sect and it makes sense that they’d say ‘Ibic mando’kar’ for ‘This is the way’,” he explains to you, “I think they can help us.”

You’re about to ask him more about these Mandalorians and what he knows, but you’re stopped by the child who has started fussing and crying. You go over to pick him up, but he’s worked himself up into a real tantrum, and no matter how much you try to soothe him, he won’t calm down.

“Are you hungry already, buddy?” You pull out some snacks from your pocket for him, but he shoves them away and cries harder. You know Din needs to focus on piloting the ship to the new coordinates so you descend to the hull with the poor little guy. You try rocking him, singing to him, even a warm bath, but nothing seems to help. He doesn’t seem to be in any visible discomfort so you simply sit and hold him hoping that ultimately your presence will show him that everything is ok. Eventually, he’s exhausted himself and falls asleep. You clean the tears off his little face, and although it’s finally quiet on the ship, you can’t shake a feeling of unease after how upset the child has been. However, you’re exhausted too after trying to care for him and you find yourself curling up on your bed your own eyes closing shortly afterwards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You reach the coordinates provided to you by the Covert on a remote planet whose name you don’t know. The scenery does nothing to lift your mood, as the place appears to be an old industrial center and now looks run-down and abandoned. Although, given what you know about the need for the Mandalorian Coverts to remain secretive, you suppose that makes sense. You follow Din off the Crest with the child’s pod floating right beside you. As you walk to the designated meeting point, a large warehouse building, the child begins to whine again. You see the familiar sight of a mythosaur skull painted above the doorway to the warehouse and you breathe a sigh of relief, that this must be the correct place. You enter the building, but everything is dark and dusty inside and it doesn’t look like anyone is around. Thinking back to Din’s Covert, you expect that some guards will probably appear like before. When you see a helmeted figure in the shadows, you think you must be right, that is until the person turns to reveal the stark white helmet and armor of a storm trooper.

“You found us!” An eerily cheery voice trills out, making your blood run cold. It’s Kerrick.

Din instantly moves to shield you behind him, but you know it’s in vain, as now you can see an entire squadron of troopers moving out of the shadows to surround you. Even with Din’s impeccable skills as a gunslinger, there’s no way you could take on this many troopers, you are hopelessly outgunned.

“Come now, my little doll, don’t be shy,” Kerrick’s voice is almost sing-songy in his joy at trapping you, “I’ve missed you so very much, baby doll.”

Your heart is lurching in your chest and you feel sick to your stomach. You’re running through all the possible scenarios in your head, but there’s only one that you can think of which will keep Din and the child from being hurt.

“I’ve missed you too, Kerrick,” you call out, stepping out from behind Din.

Din’s hand reaches out to pull you back, but you gently shake your head and pull away. Before you do, you try to look into his visor with all the love you can and silently try to tell him that everything you’re about to say is a lie, but you have no idea if he can understand that.

“My sweet baby doll, come here and give your man a kiss,” Kerrick leers at you with a wide grin.

You raise your hands up as you walk slowly towards him, and you make your voice high pitched and girly, the way he used to like when you were in bed together, as you say, “Kerrick, all these guns are scaring me, can’t you have them put the blasters away?”

“Oh, my little doll, those are for your protection,” Kerrick explains condescendingly.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I can come any closer, I’m too scared,” you tell him.

“Alright, my doll, for you,” and he motions for the troopers to lower their blasters.

You feel a tiny sense of victory as you can tell you still have some power over Kerrick even with how twisted and vile he’s become. You move closer to him and when you’re within arm’s reach, he becomes impatient and he reaches out to grab you. Din’s instincts kick in and he draws his blaster without thinking and aims directly for Kerrick.

“Uh, uh, uh, Mandalorian, she just said she’s scared of blasters,” Kerrick admonishes, “You don’t want to scare my doll any more than you already have, do you?”

Oh no, you need to salvage this and quickly, “It’s not like that, Kerrick, he’s been trying to help me find you,” you lie, “I’ve been so lonely and sad without you, and he’s been protecting me until I could get back to you.”

“Is that true?” Kerrick asks, skeptical, “From our visit to Angel One, I was under the impression that you’ve been acting like a little whore for him.”

You want to die as you say these next words, but you know you need to convince Kerrick to let Din and the child go, “I was just using him, so he’d keep helping me, but it was just so I could find you again, Kerrick, after all, I’m still your doll.” Your hand comes up to your chest to sit over Din’s heart pendant hidden under your tunic and you hate yourself for having to put Din through this.

Din’s blood is boiling and he feels heartsick as he hears you lie to Kerrick. He knows you must be lying in an attempt to save him and the child. But he can’t ignore how much your words hurt, even if they’re not true. Hearing you call yourself “doll” though and seeing you grip your pendant, he tells himself that you don’t mean what you’re saying, that you do really love him, and that you’re prepared to sacrifice yourself to save him. He’s so angry with himself for leading you into this trap and he’s desperate to find another solution, but like you, he’s out of options. He has to do all he can right now to reign in his desire to start shooting.

Kerrick’s arms are wrapping tighter around your waist, and you know you’re going to have to muster up every acting skill you have if you’re going to convince him of your falsehood. You bring a hand up to caress his face, and he nuzzles into your touch. You thought he was handsome once, but his years with the Empire have changed him and his smug, pretty boy face holds no attraction for you now. You push these thoughts deep down though, and close your eyes as you bring him closer to you for a kiss. It takes everything you have not to shove him away in disgust. As Kerrick forces his tongue into your mouth, you tell yourself to be calm and then you pretend you’re kissing Din. It’s a struggle, but you manage to fool Kerrick enough that when he pulls away he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Let’s go, doll,” he says and he starts to tug you away.

“Wait, Kerrick, will you do something for me, please?” You do your best to make yourself look as sweet and innocent as you can and you use the girly voice again.

“What can I do for you, baby doll?” He looks at you like you’re a child asking for a treat.

“Will you let the Mandalorian go back to his ship? He really did help me find you, and if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t have this wonderful reunion.” You pray Kerrick won’t see through your ploy.

“You always were so softhearted,” Kerrick says as he pats you on the ass.

“Please, for me? Please, Kerrick,” It’s soul crushing to have to beg him like this, but if it can help Din even a little you have to do it.

“Oh alright, I don’t want you to be sad or distracted all night. I have much better plans for us,” Kerrick tells you suggestively. You do your best not to throw up right then, but plan to save it as an escape for later.

“You six, take the Mandalorian back to his ship,” Kerrick motions to a group of troopers. Ok, six is still kind of a lot, but if feels like a number Din can probably handle. You don’t believe for a second that Kerrick is actually going to let Din go without a fight, but at least now he’s not facing an entire squadron.

“Can I say goodbye?” You know you’re pushing it, so you add, “To the child.”

“Fine, but make it quick,” Kerrick pats you on the ass again and you run back over to Din and the child. You scoop the baby up in your arms, but you look directly at Din and mouth, “I love you, I’m sorry.” He inclines his head in the slightest of nods and you know he understands. It doesn’t stop your heart from breaking in two though and you know tears are threatening to spill from your eyes.

“That’s enough!” Kerrick’s sharp voice calls out and you place the baby back in his pod before fixing a fake smile on your face and turning back to Kerrick. It’s shaky at best and you know you can’t hide your teary eyes so you throw yourself back into Kerrick’s arms hoping that a seemingly enthusiastic hug will mask your true feelings.

He chuckles, pats your head, and says, “Don’t worry, doll, I’ve got you now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The troopers lead Din out of the warehouse and each step feels painful, as he knows it’s taking him further away from you. All he wants to do is run back into that warehouse and fight for you, but he knows a deathtrap when he sees one. He doesn’t believe for one second that the troopers are going to let him leave, but he’s pretty sure he can take them out and get to the ship fast enough to get away. If he can make the jump to hyperspace before Kerrick’s cruiser can realize what’s happening he should be able to escape with his life.

“Be sure to get the asset,” one of the troopers is muttering to another, and Din knows it’s time. He charges and fires his whistling birds taking out four of the troopers at once and as he turns to fire at the other two, he sees their bodies being slammed together forcefully. Despite the terrible situation, he smiles to himself as he sees the child’s hands raised, helping him defeat the Imps. He quickly dispatches the last two troopers and then dashes to the Razor Crest.

He takes off as quickly as he knows how and, risking everything, makes the jump to hyperspace while he’s still in the planet’s atmosphere. It’s incredibly dangerous but it pays off and thankfully, the Crest manages to get away.

As hyperspace glows blue around him, Din plots in a course back to his Covert. He needs reinforcements and this time he can’t let the past hold him back from accepting help.

“We’re going to get her back, buddy,” Din vows looking at the child, “Don’t you worry.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. Link to Chapter 9: Not Without My Cyar’ika

Mando’a glossary:

gar vode = your brethren, your brothers

ner vod = my brother

beroya = bounty hunter

riduurok = marriage, wedding ceremony

riduur = spouse

ad’ika = little one (affectionate)

aliit = family

buir = parent

di’kut = idiot

mesh’la = beautiful

Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum = I love you (literally, I know you forever)

mandokarla = having the right stuff, the epitome of Mandalorian spirit

Ibic mando’kar =This is the way (there is some debate about how to say it)

Tag list: @grogusmum @wellofeternalthirst @idreamofboobear @theamuz @fangirlalexia @callmekane @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @nova646 @wandering-storm-lost-shadow @becks-things @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative @punkdalek @pinkninja200 @s-unflowxr @ladyjenny19 @peppywitch @haley7242 @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @hotsauceonabiscuit @asta-lily

[arknights-imagines]

GOD that mostima post had me FEELING things. I'm glad I'm not the only one who appreciates mostima a lot wahhh ; v ; i was wondering if maybe you could do a mostima/doctor after their established relationship when one of them has got injured or smth? :o I feel like with her belief that she can't hold warmth having to provide it in a dire situation would be an interesting challenge for mostima, and likewise being on the receiving end of it in a situation like that too for her!!

(It's good to be back!!! 😭🥳)

Aaaa tysm anon! 😭🥺 I'm glad you like my stuff on Mostima haha 👉👈 tbh she's grown a lot on me since I've started this blog!! 💕 She's very underappreciated 🥺 Anywho, thanks for the request and I hope I did Mostima justice here~ 🌸

--------------------

Easing Worry

Imagine format; no fixed perspective!

Contains: Mostima, reader as the Doctor, gender neutral Doctor/no gender mentioned, established relationship, a few background characters, very brief mentions of an explosions and injuries, fluff with the tiniest bit of angst, Mostima having to deal with her emotions 👉👈

Word count: just over 2k!

--------------------

“Mostima, come in! Mostima!!”

Static was all that came in reply despite the amount of times you called out into the communications link. Frustrated, you sighed sharply and watched the blink of the Caster’s tracker on the map of the ruins displayed on the screen before yourself, Amiya and Texas.

Mostima had been dispatched on an Operation to some old city ruins in Kazedel for a Mission; Unfortunately, you couldn’t accompany the Squad she was sent out with, and thanks to her lone wolf nature the Caster strayed from the other Operators who were with her. She must’ve run into trouble soon after, because when you had tried advising her to return to her Squad members through the comms-link, all that came in reply was a commotion and then silence.

“...That’s not good.” Texas’ tone wasn't very telling, but her furrowed brows and tight jaw read unease. From beside you, Amiya spoke up, “Doctor, what would you like to do?”

Mostima’s tracker was still active, which meant she must’ve been alive - still, the pit of worry in your stomach didn't fade in the slightest. When you didn't reply, Amiya decided to take the lead, “We should wait a little while longer. Maybe Ms. Mostima will get back to us…”

You had your rapt attention on the screen before you, and so when no protest from you came, everyone did as Amiya said. Even after some time passed, the tracker didn't move and nothing came through the communications link.

From her spot at another console nearby, Closure huffed loudly, “...our drones can't find her.” When you turned to look at her, she went on, “Doctor, Mostima is definitely alive down there but… we can't see her from up here, and I have no idea what happened.”

Your stomach dropped to the floor and you fell silent; within seconds the worry began eating at your insides, soon creating a suffocating tension around your heart. The thought of something happening to Mostima made you feel ill - more ill than any sickness had ever made you feel.

Amiya spoke in your place again, “P-Perhaps we should send someone. I’ll call one of our other Operators and we can create a plan-” “No, I’ll go.” Everyone's heads snapped to you right away, their faces filled with consternation and slight surprise. As was expected, Amiya shook her head right away, “Doctor, it isn't safe down there-” Though difficult, you shook your head and replied as calmly as you can manage; if it wasn't safe for you, then Mostima was in grave danger and needed to be extracted right away.

Amiya seemed conflicted - however, everyone was well aware of how much Mostima meant to you, and how much you meant to her. Your relationship was common knowledge around Rhodes Island by that point. And so, though she was worried for your safety, the Chimera nodded and stepped in front of the map displayed on the screen to take your place, “Alright, got it. I trust you, Doctor - bring Ms. Mostima back safe and sound!”

Not wishing to waste any time, you began heading straight towards the door of the aircraft; your heart pounded almost deafeningly in your ears as you outfitted yourself with proper protective care and a parachute. Closure opened the aircraft door, and you stepped close to the edge with one thought in your mind;

‘Please be okay, Mostima.’

…

The expanse of ruined land was silent; the heavy scent of sulfur and ash was carried in the air, and the dust from the building collapse was only just settling. Convinced that they had successfully killed any threat, the Reunion soldiers took their leave - the aircraft that was hovering over them couldn't mean good news on their end.

Unable to move, Mostima groaned quietly - she had only just regained consciousness, what happened? She didn't quite remember right then. Some sort of heavy weight is putting pressure on her whole body, especially her legs and chest. As she attempted to open her eyes, pain spread throughout her skull like a flood and forced her to screw them shut again. Somewhat paralyzed under whatever was holding her down, the Caster stayed lying on the ground, taking in shallow breaths.

When her ears began to stop ringing, the sound of footsteps followed by a voice calling her name caused Mostima to snap back into reality once more. ‘....Doctor?’; That was right, she was on an Operation you assigned her to, but something had gone wrong along the way. Had you come looking for her?

Finally, she found her strength; it wasn't much, however. Wincing as she moved her body, the Caster lifted her arms and began forcing up the rubble that was pinning her form down as best she could. Your voice tore through the air again - “Mostima!” - and your quickened footsteps neared her. You assisted her in lifting the remnants of the exploded building off her body, insisting that she tried to move as little as possible as you removed the rest of the rubble from her body.

Moaning a little in pain, Mostima shakily shifted her body until she was sat with her back against one of the pieces of debris you had helped lift off her. With the adrenaline now gone, pain began filling her body in so many places that even breathing began to sting; and yet, when you had given your attention to her, her usual soft smile played on the Caster’s lips.

You knelt beside her right away, hands hovering over her form, “Mostima, are you okay?” Grinning still, she managed a nod, “Doctor, hello to you too…” Though she tried, she was unable to bite back the pained wince she made as she lifted her arm to wave at you. Your eyebrows knitted together and your face twisted in a frown - and yet Mostima was smiling at you still.

“What happened?” Your hand had come to cup her cheek, but she shook her head before her fingers could rest on her skin; no matter how much time you two spent together, it seemed her instinct was still to reject any affection you wished to give her. Avoiding your gaze, she began to explain, “During the Operation, the Squad got ambushed. Hm, our guys were actually doing well, we had almost taken care of all of them.” A small sigh bridged her sentences, “But just as things were wrapping up, I saw a few of the Reunion trying to make an escape. I figured that was no good, so I went after them...haha, I guess I walked right into their trap, because the next thing I knew I was under all that rubble.”

While she had been talking, your hands were pressing and running over parts of her body checking for injuries; something seemed to be impeding your thoughts, however, because though you were supposed to be scanning for wounds, your eyes were staring at the ground. Were you upset?

Hoping to lighten the mood, Mostima spoke once again, This time a strained laugh left her, “Ahaha...sorry, I still really don’t get this whole ‘teamwork’ thing.” Immediately, you shook your head, “No… don’t worry, I’m not mad.” She lifted a bow at you.

Your eyes finally looked up from the ground and you reached into the bag you were carrying, unearthing bandages and a clean cloth. The Caster fell quiet as she allowed you to cover the scrapes and cuts on her arms - your touch was so gentle, you touched her as if she was made of precious glass. You took the cloth in your hand then lifted it to her face; this time, however, Mostima didn't shake you off or pull away. Instead, she met your gaze - and what she saw caused her heart to ache.

Your face was riven with worry, only some relief was on your features - probably due to the fact that she was still alive. Mostima’s calm grin faltered, “Doctor….” In all honesty, seeing you so worried over her caused the Caster more pain than any of her injuries did; this wasn't her intention, she didn't mean to panic you to the point that you came down to look for her.

She wasn't used to this, you were both acutely aware of that. Mostima worked alone, Mostima dealt with things alone; before you, every person she held dear was someone she also ended up pushing away. Close bonds - she didn't need them, the Caster told herself, there was no need for them in her line of work. And so she was never raring to work with others, and people she had relationships with barely ever saw her anymore.

But with you, her usual method of pushing away until the other person gave up didn't work. And soon, thanks to your persistence, warmth began blooming in her heart - and she was helpless to stop it.

Unfortunately, Mostima was just as helpless when it came to expressing all the warmth she held for you in her heart. You caused emotions she contended with, and so her first instinct was to pull away or push you back; and that usually just left both of you feeling hurt. The Caster didn't believe in her capacity to encompass love or warmth - but you did.

Finally, Mostima found her voice once more, “Doctor...angel.” She corrected herself, instead using the nickname you rarely ever heard from her. It was mushy, cheesy - and yet butterflies filled your stomach every time she used it. Once she was sure she had your attention, the Caster spoke, trying her absolute best and allowing all of her words to come from her heart, “I’m sorry, I know I must’ve scared you really bad. I didn't mean...to worry you.”

Your face softened at her words; placing the cloth down, your hand found its way to hers. When she interlaced her fingers with your own, you smiled gently. Relieved to see you more at ease, Mostima squeezed your hand as best she could considering her loss of strength before continuing, “Unfortunately - in case you haven't noticed - I’m terrible at this. Haha…you’re really unlucky to have fallen in love with someone like me. I push people away, I push everyone away.” Her smile had gone, and now her face was filled with serious, genuine sincerity. “But I don’t want you to go away, you’re the first person in a long time who I’ve wanted to stay with. And I know I’m not good at showing it…”

Gathering some of her strength, the Caster shut her eyes as she lifted your hand to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on your fingers. “But my dear Doctor, my sweet angel - I care so much about you. Actually, scratch that... I love you, I love you so much.” And she trailed off, relaxing with her lips on your hand and losing herself in the moment for just a second or two.

It felt indescribably warm to just shut her eyes and pretend it was just you and her in the entirety of Terra. While it was hard to take down all her walls, it was so much better than deflecting your affections and was worth it for the way her heart grew in her chest as she allowed herself and you to be compassionate towards one another.

When your hand moved to cup her cheek, Mostima leaned into your touch rather than pulling away. When her eyes fluttered open, her gaze fell upon your effusive smile; “I love you too, Mostima. I promise I’m not going anywhere, no matter what.” Your words prompted her to chime with a light laugh, “Hehe, I guess there’s no getting rid of you, huh~?” You shook your head in reply - when your grin widened, she couldn't help but mirror the expression.

Facial features softening and becoming sincere, she left another kiss on the inside of your palm, “I’ve never had anyone like you...Sorry if I’m not always cooperative. Thanks for looking after me, Doctor.” A warm, passionate grin came to your face as you replied, “Always, Mostima.”

The area that surrounded the two of you was in a ruinous state, that same heavy scent still hung in the air and injuries were still littered all over Mostima’s body. And yet; upon seeing your smile, her body filled with a heartened feeling.

[zrtranscripts]

Home Front, Mission 1: Zombies, Stay Inside!

Lockdown workout

~

[paper rustles, microphone creaks]

SAM YAO: Hello, runners. Sorry, that didn't sound very friendly. Everything's fine. Sorry! I'm trying to sound less terrified. Hello. No, wait. That... Well, that just sounded sinister. Okay, I'm going Sean Connery. [imitates Sean Connery] Hello. [own voice] Ugh... Okay. Maybe I should just move on from saying hello. How are you all doing? I'm not amazing.

To recap, in case you've been stuck in a hole for the past week... Although maybe some of you are stuck in actual holes, in-in which case, I hope your hole is not full of water. And if it is full of water, I hope the water is drinkable.

Anyway, yes. To recap, there's a horde. Well, you all know that. You can see the horde out there. What happened was - we think - some runners got a huge warehouse open just south of the city. It had been sealed up since Z-Day and not a peep from inside it, so everyone thought it'd be full of useful supplies.

Well anyway, it was full of about 18,000 zombies and now they're surrounding Abel. Um, yeah, that's just an estimate. Janine was trying to tell me about modeling population numbers, but I couldn't really understand what she was going on about. She sort of rambles when she's anxious, have you noticed that?

[sighs] Well, we've all been caught unawares by this. Whether you were outside when the horde arrived or stuck inside like me, you'll be there for quite a while. So um, all right! My job is to keep morale up! Does it help keep morale up to say this is a really crappy situation, but one day it will definitely be over? Also - also, you know what helps keep morale up? Dancing! So I'm-I'm just going to put on a tune and uh, well, if you can, get up and dance while it's on. Or chair dance or wiggle your eyes. Yeah, okay. [laughs] This one always gets me moving.

~

[paper rustles]

SAM YAO: Okay, okay, I do have something here! I have Ministry guidelines on exercises that can be done at home. So I tell you what. I'm in the comms shack, so while I do the exercises myself, I'll read out their instructions and time them, okay? And then if you're also stuck inside, you can do them along with me. Hey, even if you're not stuck inside, you can do them. It'll be fun, or at least distracting.

Anyway, after I've explained every exercise, I'll play a song, and if you're tired, you can use the song to rest. But if you've got loads of energy, use the songs to continue the exercise, or I don't know, just dance around. Obviously, you must judge for yourself how you're feeling. Don't push yourself too hard and don't do it if it hurts. Okay? Okay. We can do this.

[paper rustles] Okay. Um, first exercise is step ups. We're gonna step on and off a stair for 30 seconds with each leg. Now if you're near some stairs, use the bottom one or whichever stair is furthest from the zombies, I guess. If you haven't got stairs, use something sturdy and stable to step up onto. So like, well, not a wobbly box. It also says here, uh, yeah. If you can, try not to use your back leg too much to push off with and don't let your knees go over your toes. This exercise will strengthen your thighs. Hmmm.

Okay, I'm going to use the step down into the comms shack. [chair creaks, cloth rustles] Okay, let's do it for 30 seconds. First leg. Ready, and... [breathy sounds from doing exercise] Wow. That is burning more than I thought. 15 seconds to go. Okay, time to change legs. Another 30 seconds, and go! Ow. 15 seconds to go. Right, that's it. If you feel like that was too easy - too easy! - you can do it more during this song, or even hold a weight next time. Maybe a tin of beans? Now if you need a rest, here's a song that always makes me think of long summer afternoons.

~

SAM YAO: You know what? I actually can feel that in my thighs. Also, building those muscles will come in handy for running up stairs away from zombies, so you know, life skills?

Whoa, man. Now I don't know where you all are, but it looks really weird out there. Like, I'm used to seeing the streets empty, the fields deserted, but now, just all the zombies. The crowd of them is like swirling. I'm starting to see patterns in it. Like there! There, look! Those two gaps have opened up in the horde like eyes. Oh my God, there! That gap under the eyes, it's like totally a smiling mouth! 

You see it right? Uh, well, I-I guess if you can see the same horde as me. Anyway, time for another dance break. Make sure you throw some good shapes to this song, and have a good time imagining me going wild to it as well.

~

SAM YAO: I don't know about you, but I'm getting a pretty good workout here. Janine popped her head round the door to say if you don't like dancing, you can always run on the spot during the music breaks. But who doesn't like dancing? Dancing is what separates us from the zombies. Even Janine likes dancing, as long as there are loads of rules she can learn about how to do it properly.

All right, next exercise. Oh, [laughs] this one sounds fun. Dead bug walking. The instructions are lie on your back with your arms and legs in the air like a dying bug. Wow, that's kind of sad for the bug. Maybe we can lie on our backs with our arms and legs in the air like a puppy asking for a belly rub. Okay? Right. Sorry. Then we walk our arms and legs in the air for one minute as rapidly as we can. Okay, that sounds interesting. Right, down on the ground. [chair creaks, cloth rustles] Okay, now I'm going to do it... One minute. Ready? Go!

[breathy sounds from doing exercise] Anyone else getting their arms and legs a bit tangled? Because I... 30 seconds to go. [mutters repeatedly] Buggy buggy bug, buggy buggy bug… puppy puppy pup. puppy puppy pup, buggy buggy... [out loud] Okay, that's that one! [microphone creaks] And if you're feeling tired out, take a rest. Otherwise, carry on with the buggy buggy exercise or dance or yeah, jog in a military fashion during this next song, which I happen to know both dogs and bugs really enjoy. Hmmm.

~

SAM YAO: Amazing! I can feel my blood pumping again. Oh man, just sitting down has not been good for me. Okay. Hey, this-this does feel good, actually. Someone should look into whether exercise improves your mental health or something. [sighs] Yes, yes. Janine is letting me know that before the apocalypse… I-I know, Janine! I know.

It feels nice to be connected to everyone, too. I don't know where you all are, but thinking of you all doing this with me, it's almost like we're together. And you know, my runners are like… [sighs] I mean, you mean a lot to me, that's all. Now if you're stuck at home, please come and tell us where you are on Rofflenet, or send us a message. That way, I can imagine you all as we're exercising together. I could even do shout-outs, like a real DJ! 

And like a real DJ, I'm gonna put on another song! Use it to dance to, or to jog on the spot to. Or if the space you're in is looking incredibly messy, you could use it to tidy up. Janine said I should say that one. I don't… [scoffs] Anyway, here's a song to clean up your space to.

~

SAM YAO: Okay. I have to say, it is nice that the shack doesn't have, well, so many piles of papers lying around. Here's the final proper exercise of the day. We're going to do some bodyweight squats. Here's the Ministry's instructions. [paper rustles] I'll read it slowly.

Stand upright with your arms by your sides and your feet hip distance apart. Okay, done. Now squat down as if you were about to sit in a chair. That's good, because I'm right next to my chair. [paper rustles] It says here take care that your knees don't come out further than your feet as you squat. Your bottom should be sticking out. Okay. Hang on. Now this is important. If you need support, you can slide down a wall. Amazing! Okay. We're going to do this for one minute. Ready? And go!

Oh my God, my legs are going to fall off! Only 30 seconds to go. Oh boy! Ah, that's it. One minute of squats. Good work, everyone. I'm gonna take a break, shake my legs out, and then maybe do some dancing. Janine doesn't appreciate my Electric Slide, but she just has no taste. If you have stronger thighs than me, carry on doing squats. Or dance, or have a rest. Here we go. Music to ignore the zombie horde by.

~

SAM YAO: Oh my God, that song takes me back! [laugh] Right, I was at college, and this bloke in the room next door just could not stop playing it. Literally. Set his alarm to play it every single morning. Now turned out his boyfriend also couldn't stand it, so we decided to make up an internet story that listening to that particular song on repeat had been linked to bleeding from the eyes.

I mean, he was a really great guy, Gadney, but not the smartest. And me and Dill paid for Facebook ads targeted at literally only him about the mystery music illness. And he believed it! We both said we'd heard about it, too, and we were really worried about him. 

I bet you think this story is going to end with them both going zom, right? But no! They're in a commune in Sunderland. So if you happen to have heard this, Gadney, I'm sorry. That song won't actually make your eardrums burst. It's great - in moderation! 

Anyway, we're nearly done. It's time for cooldown. Do some gentle stretches or dance - but like, less energetically? - to this next mega hit.

~

SAM YAO: [sighs] Ah, that was a good one. Chill. Like hopeful at the same time, you know? Okay. Hm. This has been fun. Now I know some of you runners are far enough away from the horde to be able to run outside without getting close to any of the zoms, but doing these exercises has really made me feel better. Hopefully it's made you all feel better, too. 

We're going to do it again soon, with more exercises and maybe other things. I might even take requests! Come and talk to me on Rofflenet. Send me a message, let me know what you'd like to hear. And I think a few other runners out there have microphones, so you never know who you'll hear from next!

Yeah. My dad said zhàogù hǎo zìjǐ every time me and my sister went away. Hmm. So that's what I'm going to say, too. Zhàogù hǎo zìjǐ, which means take care of yourself. And I've never meant it more. Stay safe out there.

~

Thanks to Aaron (themalaysiamerican on Rofflenet) for help on this transcript!

[captainkappa]

Fanfic:: Bad Habits

Cobb, never one for knowing when to keep his mouth shut, asked, “Do you do that often? Cauterizing yourself?”

Mando paused. “I used to.”

My second bingo fic is up! It’s really pulling its weight in terms of getting me a bingo and is actually the first fic I thought of for the event!

Huge shout out to @staranon95 for betaing and helping out with the ending!

AO3 Link

-=-=-

When Cobb got called out of Mos Pelgo by Boba Fett of all people, he could handle it. He’d been prepared for a fight, but what he’d gotten was a job of all things. A couple of Zygerrians had set up shop outside of Mos Espa with the intent of revitalizing their corner of the slave market and Fett wanted them taken care of. Cobb had accepted, after the promise of payment and that Fett wasn’t doing this to “knock off competition in the market.”

When he walked out of the palace, coordinates in hand and he saw Mando – his Mando – standing stiff as a board beside his speeder, Cobb could handle it. He could handle it better if Mando gave any indication of remembering him, but he brushed it off. Mos Pelgo was a tiny town and Mando probably had way more important journeys in the months since he landed in Cobb’s neck of the woods.

When their speeders got blown up, Cobb could handle it. They both saw the gunman pop up before he fired, leaping off their speeders into the warm sand, ducking behind dunes as twinned explosions went off. They hadn’t known the Zygerrians were anticipating them, but they jumped into the fight all the same.

Leaning up against the heavy desk of the slavers, taking inventory of his injuries, Cobb was getting real tired of everything the day was throwing at him. He was just glad Din had stepped out to comm Fett with their situation; mission complete with all the slavers dead, but their speeders were unsalvageable and the slavers seemed to not own their own transport.

Cobb’s knee was going to complain for a couple of days, he’d gotten singed in a couple of places, scraped elsewhere, but there was really only one place that needed immediate attention; his shoulder, assumedly when he tackled that man right when he had busted in through the building. The armor, more ill-fitting than the Mandalorian armor, but still functional, had protected his vitals, but the vibroblade had skimmed off to clip his shoulder. It wasn’t so deep as he needed to panic, but it was deeper than he would've liked.

He was applying pressure when Mando walked in. Except for the tiredness weighing him down and scorching on the armor, the armored man looked the same as he did when they rolled up to the place.

He rolled his shoulders before leaning against the wall. “Shand says pick up in four hours.”

Cobb’s hand slipped from his shoulder. “What? What’s the karking hold up?” The outpost wasn’t that far away from the Palace.

“Minor sand gusts. Nothing terrible, but they can’t fly through it. And with it being the middle of the day…” He trailed off, not needing to explain to a local how everything shut down until at least one of the suns was leaving its apex.

A flair of pain pulsed from Cobb’s shoulder. He hissed, eyes snapping shut until the pain faded. He readjusted his grip, blood slipping through his fingers.

“Great. Do you have a medpack?”

“On the speeder.”

Cobb snorted, but the movement bit into his shoulder wound. “Dank farrik.”

He gritted his teeth against the pain and looked around the room again. It was a cushy office space, not a well-stocked med-station. Even so, they had been prepared enough to have blasters on hand. Surely assholes of this caliber would have something-

There.

He hobbled over to the cabinet, shoving aside a dead slaver in his way. He picked up the bottle and uncorked it with his teeth as he walked back to his seat, half falling into it.

“Spotcka?” Mando asked.

“Multi-purpose. Great for bar fights.”

Cobb tore off his scarf one handed, half choking himself in the quick movement. He took a swallow for himself – Maker knew he deserved it – then poured enough onto his scarf for the majority of it to turn a dark maroon.

He slapped it on the wound, hissing as the alcohol burned. With his elbow, he nudged the bottle to Mando.

“Go on, clean yourself up. Alcohol does great at carbon scoring.”

He took the bottle and stepped away from Cobb, into a corner of the room untouched by the bloodshed, setting it on a small table. Cobb shrugged to himself. If the man wanted to treat himself in peace, he wouldn’t judge. Maybe he wanted to remove the helmet for a drink. He wouldn’t pursue the matter.

There were larger issues at hand, either way. He slowly lifted the scarf and folded it to a point to better clean at the edges of the injury. The angle wasn’t great, but he had enough faith in himself to clean out most of the grit.

He brought the sweat drenched shirt cuff to his mouth and bit down as he pressed deeper in, not wanting to disturb the silence between the two of them with his cries as he got more dirt and sand out.

His arm dropped and he let in a big gulp of air, the rank smell of sweat getting to him. As he breathed in the dry air, he realized it wasn’t the smell of sweat that was tingling his nostrils.

It smelled like burning.

He turned and saw Mando hunched in the corner, running a sparking instrument over his bicep. It didn’t look like any medical instrument Cobb had seen and even if it was, he suspected that wasn’t the type of thing a person used on themselves, especially with the bit-back groan that escaped the Mandalorian.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” Cobb exclaimed

Mando’s head snapped up, tool skittering off in the wrong direction across his skin, leaving an angry red trail. He cursed, turning it off before answering.

“You said to clean myself up!” he said, defensiveness thick in his voice.

Cobb pulled himself up, his knee screaming at all of the movement, but he’s not about to let Mando get off easy with this. He drags a side table over, the lamp falling off with the sharp movement. He sits unceremoniously down beside Mando.

“Not if it meant making your arm a damn fricassee. Lemme see.”

That bucket of Mando’s didn’t move, but with a sharp movement, he pulled back the torn sleeve of his shirt to reveal the half-cauterized wound. The bleeding was sluggish, staining the fabric an even darker brown. It definitely looked deep, so why hadn’t he said anything?

Cobb bit back his scowl. “Gimme that,” he said, nodding his head at the tool in his hand.

“It’s deep.”

“So? Burns can get infected too. You’re just coming at it from a different angle. Same sarlacc, different pit. Now gimme.”

Din handed over the offending piece, which Cobb put out of arm’s reach on the counter.

“Now, hand me the spotchka.”

He did so and after his speeder getting blown up, the fight going south quicker than expected, the long extraction time, and his shoulder smarting like nothing else, Cobb wasn’t particularly nice. He let a splash of it run down Mando’s arm, causing him to jump back and hiss.

“What was that for?”

“To clean it!”

He knew he should be more worried that Din hadn’t considered a safer, less painful method of taking care of himself, but right now he was angry, so he splashed more spotchka on the wound. Mando’s hiss was quieter this time.

Cobb moved to press his own scarf on the wound, but paused when he saw how much of his own blood he had already got on it. None of this was sanitary, but he had to draw a line in the sand at some point. He looked around for something else to scavenge. There was a thin blanket thrown over a couch that would have to do. Cobb leaned back, ripping a strip from the blanket. He ripped it in two, soaking one in alcohol and setting the other aside.

He glanced up and saw Mando continue to stare at him. Even in the armor, the way he held his arm close to him made him look like a skittish anooba.

“I gotta… make sure it’s clean,” he said, holding up the soaked cloth. “It’s deep,” he added lamely.

But that seemed to be enough, as Mando relaxed his arm, holding it out. Cobb gently took his elbow, pulling it even closer. He stilled underneath him as he ran the cloth over his arm.

If the silence before felt comfortable, now it was oppressive, or maybe it was because both of their breathing felt too loud.

Cobb, never one for knowing when to keep his mouth shut, asked, “Do you do that often? Cauterizing yourself?”

Mando paused. “I used to.”

His free hand flexed at his side before rucking up his sleeve further. There was more burnt flesh, jagged, blackened raised lines of various sizes. He felt his stomach dip out from underneath him.

“Stars.” Cobb ran a finger around the edge of one fully healed absentmindedly. He pulled away as he felt the shiver run up Mando’s arm.

“Shit, sorry.”

“No, I’m fine,” Mando said, a rasp to his voice that argued otherwise.

Cobb wasn’t a stranger to folks who jumped at sudden touches. There were deep buried memories of a time when he jumped at the slightest friendly touch. Took years to teach that out of a person; most people in Mos Pelgo had experience with it or helping someone through it.

Cobb straightened up, putting a little distance between him and Mando.

“Do you want me to… keep cleaning it?”

He shrugged with his one good arm. “Can’t tie a knot with one hand.”

Pragmatic, the bastard.

But if Mando could be stubborn, so could he.

“I can tie the bandage, but you could clean it. Whatever you’re comfortable with Mando.”

Mando’s voice filled the room with an unexpected gruffness. “I said it’s fine.”

“Alrighty then.”

Cobb quickly went back to cleaning the wound, much more aware of Din’s reactions than he was before, but Mando didn’t say anything else. Cobb made sure to clean beyond just the initial cut, making sure the burn l when he startled Mando didn’t get infected as well.

When he finished, he tossed the dirty scrap into a corner of the room. He picked up the clean scrap and tied it tightly around the cut.

“Probably need stitches on that, but it’ll hold.” Cobb glanced down at his chronometer. They still had an awful long time till Boba’s buddies made it out to them. “You hurt anywhere else?”

For what felt like an awfully long time, Mando stayed silent, before saying, “Might have broke my finger.”

“Let me see.”

Din held up his hand on the same arm, stripping it of the glove in awkward, jerky movements. A visual check revealed nothing looking out of place, no obvious bulging or bruising, but Cobb knew from experience that sometimes broken bones could be tricky.

“I’m gonna have to… try and feel it out.”

He goes rigid, barely moving.

Cobb holds up his hands placatingly. “We don’t have’ta! You can probably… do it yourself?”

“No, no, you do it.”

“Alright, partner.”

Cobb wasn’t a medic by any stretch of the term, but years of enslavement meant that he could tell a fracture from a break from a healed bone. Poke at something long enough and he’d find the break. He started with Mando’s hand, taking each finger in hand and feeling them up. The tendons in Mando’s hand stuck out prominently, the tension evident.

“How’d you come to meet a man like Boba Fett?”

“They followed me for the armor. Nearly shot me for it and then he helped me with another matter.”

“That involve the kid?” Cobb winced internally at the question. He was trying to relax the man, get him to open up more, but he had noticed the absence of the little green guy, and if Mando brought the kid to a krayt dragon fight, then he brought him everywhere.

Mando stilled, but the tension in his hand faded. If there was something he knew about Mando, one of the few things was that he thought more than he spoke. That didn’t mean he thought before he spoke. Cobb remembered how he volunteered Mos Pelgo without asking, but there was still intention behind his words. As Cobb moved on from Din’s fingers to his palm, he imagined that this was what was going on in Mando’s brain.

“The kid is safe.”

If that’s all Mando was offering, he’ll take it. “That’s good to hear.”

No reaction with the bones of his palm, and with his hand more relaxed, Cobb moved down to his wrist and immediately, Mando hissed.

“Ah, there it is. Don’t move.”

Mando’s wrist stayed in the air as Cobb ripped up more strips of blanket. The room was starting to smell now with scents that Cobb didn’t want to be familiar with but he was. He hoped it wouldn't sink into his clothes.

He came back to Din’s wrist and began binding it as well as he could with the limited supplies. Mando remained still, not ramrod straight like he had been, but still as not to interrupt Cobb’s work trying to make sure his wrist didn’t move in the bindings.

When he was halfway done with the scrap, trying to calculate whether he needed to tie another scrap to make it longer, his shoulder twinged in pain, making its annoyance at being forgotten known. He bit back a hiss.

“Hold that there- good,” he said, letting Mando hold the bandage in place while Cobb reached for the spotchka with one hand, pressing the hole with another.

He took another drink, pain already numbing.

“Probably shouldn’t have all this alcohol”

“Probably not, but it’s great before and after a fight. Best damn drink I had of my life was after the krayt dragon. Shame you weren’t there. Should’ve invited you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Cobb paused, bottle halfway to his lips for another drink.

“You were dead set on leaving. And if I may be so selfish, I couldn’t bear to look at that armor off my body any longer.”

Din nodded slowly. “I’m… sorry I left you with nothing.”

He finished taking a drink, a wry smile on his lips. “Yeah, you left us with no krayt dragon.”

“I mean no protection.”

“The krayt dragon was most of our problems anyway. And this-” he tapped the center of his chest plate “-has served me well. Well, mostly.” He tipped a little spotchka into his shoulder, hissing as he did so. Had the bleeding started slowing down?

Mando held out his unbandaged hand. “Here, let me.”

“I can handle it, Mando.”

“Din.”

Cobb stopped, brain trying to process what he had said as Mando continued.

“My name is Din. You patched me up, so I’m patching you up.”

Cobb was about to shrink back, to go back to drinking, but then he looked at the slope of Mando- Din’s shoulders, the tilt of his head, the steadiness of his hand. And then his shoulder twinged again.

“Alright, partner, but I gotta get that wrist set first. Not gonna have you mess up my good work tryin’a dote on me.”

Din nodded and Cobb got right back to work on his wrist. No sooner had he finished wrapping up Din’s wrist was Din reaching for the now torn up blanket, slicing at it with a knife he pulled from his boot.

“Should be clean.”

A snort – an actual snort – came out of Din’s helmet. “Should be, dropped half the damn bottle on it.”

“Hey, I’m drinking for two.”

Din just shook his head before leaning over, wrapping make-shift bandages over his shoulder. This close, Cobb thought he would be able to feel Din’s breath if it wasn’t for the helmet. They had never gotten this far in each other’s spaces that first time he met, and suddenly he felt himself freezing in place.

After a few seconds of silence, with Din pulling the bandages into place, Din spoke up, “You asked if I cauterized myself often. I did, until I met Grogu. Stopped doing a lot of stuff once I got him. I think losing him… made it easier to pick up those habits.”

“I get it.” Din’s helmet tilted up, and Cobb shrugged with his good shoulder. “I do, I have lifetimes of bad habits I’ve lost and picked back up. It takes a lot to get out of those habits.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say hi earlier.”

Cobb let out a sharp laugh. “I’m just glad I saw you again. Wasn’t expecting to ever again in my lifetime.”

Din started wrapping the bandages tighter. “Really?”

“Yeah, you were made for spaces bigger than Mos Pelgo, than Tatooine.”

“Hold this for me?” Cobb took the end of the bandage from him. Din took the other end and started twining them together, Cobb trying to help as he realized he was trying to tie a knot.

Cobb was about to think his comment would go unnoticed, when Din said, “A Mandalorian keeps their word.”

Cobb’s gaze snapped up and he tried to find Din’s eyes in that black visor. Was he misreading the intent in his voice? 

The moment was broken by Din sharply tugging on the knot. Cobb bit back a curse as Din leaned back.

“Well, we’re not gonna bleed out at this rate,” Cobb said, testing out how much movement he had.

“Boba should have better medical facilities.”

“Oh, is the high and mighty Fett gonna share with the people?”

Din tilted his helmet. “Do you… know why he came back?”

Cobb shook his head. “I was too busy making sure he paid me fairly.”

So, Din explained Shand’s and Fett’s plans for Tatooine, talk of abolition and ridding the planet of corruption. It wasn’t talk that Cobb had heard before, especially not someone who better had the manpower to put weight behind the words. It was enough that Cobb didn’t outright laugh in Din’s face at the idea. And if it meant he got hired to take out a few slavers in the meantime, it might be worth it.

Hired with Din as well…

He inhaled sharply as he forcibly steered his mind in another direction. He succeeded in distracting himself only when he got a lungful of the scent of death. He choked and coughed on the feeling. He was just glad that Din didn't pound his back, not sure if his body would be able to take it, but Din’s hand rested on his knee.

“’M fine, I’m fine. We should see if Boba can get us out of here sooner. That or we have to start moving bodies.”

The two looked around the room, neither wanting to move anything in their injured states. Din nodded, pulling out his commlink.

Fett’s voice piped through the speaker. “Djarin, how are you two doing?”

“Good, patched up as best we can, but a transport would really be nice.”

“Gettin’ real rank in here, Fett!” Cobb called out. “And Din said you had bacta to spare which I’d really appreciate!”

He heard the crackly laughter through the speaker. “Does this mean you two are getting on better?”

“I- yes?”

“Good, transport will be there within the hour.”

“Wait, what happened to four- Boba?!” Din shouted as the call clicked off.

Cobb couldn’t help the unexpected laugh at Din’s outburst, even as the movement pulled on his bandages.

“What was that about?” he asked when he had the air to breathe.

Din sighed, tucking his comm back into his belt. “I haven’t a clue.”

“Do you want to sit outside?” Cobb offered. “Might be some shade now.”

He watched as Din’s gaze swept the room.

“Sure, can’t smell much worse out there.”

The two less so walked out of the building than they did hobble, Cobb’s knee flaring up quicker than expected, forcing him to lean on Din, but there was a corner of shade they could sit under.

They settled, side by side, barely an inch of space between them. The desert in front of them was calm, with most critters burrowed underground until at least two suns started setting.

Cobb turned his head just enough to look at Din.

“I know it’s a late invitation,” he started, “but would you want to come back for a drink once we’re properly patched up?”

Din turned to look at him, and Cobb was struck with how much easier it was to see himself in the helmet than it was to see Din.

“Sure, just no spotchka.”

Cobb huffed out a laugh. “Alright, partner. No spotchka.”

[sur-un-fil]

A propos du trouble bipolaire ( phase dépressive) , par Nayialovecat

 Trouble bipolaire, phase dépressive. Texte écrit par @nayialovecat​. ( Le lien vers l’image est LA, celui du texte ICI.)

Une personne dépressive n'est pas celle qui pleure, qui a l'air malheureuse, qui parle de vouloir se suicider... Les personnes dépressives sont souvent souriantes, calmes, et lorsqu'on leur demande ce qui se passe, elles peuvent être enthousiastes et vous convaincre que tout va bien. Il faut donc être très vigilant. Car bien qu'il y ait un sourire à l'extérieur, il peut y avoir un abîme sombre ouvert à l'intérieur qui engloutit lentement cette personne. C'est un peu comme d'autres maladies - le cancer par exemple... une fois que les symptômes sont visibles - il est souvent trop tard pour les traiter.

"Salut  tout le monde. J'aimerais vous donner quelques bons conseils au cas où vous auriez un jour affaire à une personne souffrant de trouble bipolaire et sur le point d'entrer dans une phase de dépression (la plus dangereuse, à mon avis). Mais n'oubliez pas que les conseils que je donne ici sont basés sur mon propre comportement (et celui de deux personnes de ma connaissance souffrant de conditions similaires ) :  tout le monde n'est pas comme moi. Je ne veux pas être un gourou, parce que quelqu'un d'autre qui est déprimé ou quelque chose comme ça pourrait se dire que j'écris n'importe quoi parce que ça ne fonctionne pas pour lui/elle. Néanmoins... Peut-être que quelqu'un en aura besoin, alors je l'écris.

1- Ce qui est répété partout - vous ne devez pas ignorer et minimiser la dépression, vous ne devez pas laisser cette personne seule avec ses pensées, car ce chemin mène tout droit vers  un abîme sombre.

2- Mais cela n'aidera pas si vous dites "Tu as une vie merveilleuse, tu es une personne merveilleuse, tu as une famille merveilleuse".  Je sais que c'est le cas. Et quoi ? Mon cerveau ne fonctionne pas logiquement en ce moment et parler comme ça ne fera que me faire penser "Ma famille est merveilleuse, je ne devrais pas les encombrer avec une merde humaine comme moi". N'essaiez pas la logique avec les personnes bipolaires en crise. La logique ne marche pas.

3- Le pire que vous puissiez dire est "Arrête d'être triste". Putain, vraiment ? Conseil du siècle ! "Tu dis que tu es déprimé ? Alors arrête." Non, vraiment, ça ne marche pas comme ça. Et les beaux slogans de motivation du style "Il suffit de vouloir" , vous pouvez vous les mettre où je pense.

4- Si la personne malade se voit prescrire des médicaments, assurez-vous qu'elle les prend. Je ne parle pas seulement des médicaments pour les troubles bipolaires, mais aussi autres. Par exemple, si elle est diabétique et qu'elle a un épisode dépressif, elle peut très facilement renoncer à l'insuline. Parfois, il s'agit d'un choix conscient ("je veux mourir"), mais parfois, c'est complètement indépendant, elle oublie simplement ou s'en moque. Vous devez les lui  rappeler, pas nécessairement de manière intrusive, mais en lui disant par exemple : "tu as pensé à prendre tous tes médicaments aujourd'hui ?".

5- C'est bien de la contacter de temps en temps, surtout si elle vit seule ou est souvent laissée seule. Il ne s'agit pas seulement d'empêcher le suicide, car toutes les personnes dépressives n'y pensent pas. Mais le fait est qu'elle ne doit pas être seule, qu'elle doit sentir que quelqu'un pense à elle et s'inquiète pour elle. Et même si elle a l'air heureuse au téléphone, ne vous y trompez pas - il s'agit généralement d'un masque et vous devez donc être prudent. Vous devez lui faire comprendre que vous vous souciez d'elle/de lui.

6- Parler du problème ne fonctionne que dans le cas de maladies physiques. Très rarement pour les maladies mentales (encore une fois : n'essayez pas la logique sur une personne souffrant de troubles bipolaires). Pendant les conversations, essayez de ne pas parler du problème, ne l'analysez pas, parlez plutôt d'autre chose.

7- Et un bon conseil qui fonctionne (du moins pour moi) est de garder la personne occupée. Il ne s'agit pas de la faire rire, essayer de la faire rire ne peut qu'aggraver la situation, mais de faire quelque chose de précis. Une activité où elle n'a pas le temps de (trop) penser. Vous pouvez la motiver et faire le ménage ensemble (la méthode de ma grand-mère, ça marche pour  moi). Lui proposer une nouvelle série addictive (la méthode de mon mari, ça marche pour moi). Ou simplement lui parler beaucoup et souvent de choses diverses , de jeux ou de livres (méthode de mes amis, ça marche pour moi). Bien sûr, chaque personne est différente, j'écris sur les choses qui fonctionnent pour moi à ce stade. J'espère que cela vous aidera un peu.”

Nayialovecat. °°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°° ENGLISH VERSION, WRITTEN BY @nayialovecat​

(Drawing link / text link)

Remember, a depressed person is not the one who cries, looks unhappy, talks about wanting to suicide... Depressed people are often smiling, calm, and when asked what's up, they can be enthusiastic convince you that everything is fine. Therefore, you have to be very wary and vigilant. For although there is a smile on the outside, there may be an open dark abyss inside which slowly engulfs this person. It's a bit like other diseases - cancer for example... once symptoms are visible - it is often too late to treat it.

Hey, folks. I'd like to give you a handful of good advices in case you ever have to deal with someone who has bipolar affective disorder and is about to enter a (more dangerous, in my opinion) period of depression. But remember that the advices I am giving here are based on my own behavior (and also on two people with similar conditions that I know) - not everyone is like me. I don't want to be a guru, 'cause someone else who is depressed or something like this might say I'm writing nonsense here 'cause it doesn't work for her/him. Nevertheless... maybe someone will need it, so I write it.

1- What is repeated everywhere - you must not ignore and downplay depression, you must not leave such a person alone with her/his thoughts, 'cause this way goes along straight into the dark abyss.

2- But it won't help if you say "you have such a wonderful life, you are a wonderful person, you have a wonderful family". I know I have. And what? My brain is not working logically right now and talking like that will only make me think "my family is wonderful, I shouldn't burden them with human shit like me". Don't try logic on such people. Logic doesn't work.

3- The absolute worst you can say is "stop being sad". Fuck, really? Century council! "You say you're depressed? So stop it." No, really, it doesn't work that way. And beautiful motivational slogans in the style of "you only need to want" can be put up your ass.

4- If the sick person is prescribed any medications, make sure that he or she takes them. I'm not just talking about medications for bipolar disorder, I'm also talking about all the others. For example, if she/he is diabetic and has a depressive episode, she/he may very easily give up insulin. Sometimes it's a conscious choice ("I want to die"), but sometimes it's completely independent, she/he just forgets or doesn't care. You need to remind such a person, not necessarily intrusively, but like "did you remember about medicaments today?"

5- It is good to contact such a person from time to time, especially if she/he lives alone or is often left alone. It is not just about stopping suicide, 'cause not every depressed person actually thinks of suicide. But the point is that she/he shouldn't be alone, that she/he should feel that someone is thinking about her/him, worrying about her/him. And even if she/he sounds happy on the phone, don't be fooled - it's usually a mask so you should be careful. You have to make it clear that you care about her/him.

6- Talking about the problem works only in the case of physical diseases. Very rarely for mental illness (again: don't try logic on a person with bipolar disorder). During conversations, try not to discuss the problem, do not analyze it, rather talk about anything else.

7- Exactly, a good advice that works (at least for me) is to keep the person busy. It's not about making her/him laugh, trying to make her/him laugh can only make it worse. But to do something specific. Something where there is no time to think. You can motivate such a person to clean up together (my grandmother's method, works at me). A new addictive series can be proposed (my husband's method, works at me). You can just talk a lot and often about various things with this person, about games or books (my friends method, works at me). Of course every person is different, I'm writing about things that work for me at this point. I hope it helps you a little.

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Hej, ludzie. Chciałabym udzielić Wam kilku dobrych rad na wypadek, gdybyście mieli kiedykolwiek do czynienia z osobą, która ma chorobę afektywną dwubiegunową i wkrótce wejdzie w (bardziej niebezpieczny moim zdaniem) epizod depresyjny. Pamiętaj jednak, że rady, których tu udzielam, opierają się na moim własnym zachowaniu (a także na dwóch ludziach z podobnymi schorzeniami, których znam) - nie wszyscy są tacy jak ja. Nie chcę być guru, ponieważ ktoś inny, kto ma depresję lub coś takiego, może powiedzieć, że piszę tutaj bzdury, ponieważ to nie działa dla niej/niego. Niemniej... może ktoś będzie tego potrzebował, więc piszę.

1- To, co się wszędzie powtarza - nie wolno ignorować i bagatelizować depresji, nie wolno zostawiać takiej osoby samej z jej myślami, bo ta droga prowadzi prosto w ciemną otchłań.

2- Ale nic nie pomoże, jeśli powiesz „masz takie wspaniałe życie, jesteś wspaniałą osobą, masz wspaniałą rodzinę”. Wiem, że tak. I co? Mój mózg nie działa teraz logicznie i mówienie w ten sposób sprawi, że pomyślę tylko: „moja rodzina jest wspaniała, nie powinienem obciążać ich takim ludzkim gównem jak ja”. Nie próbuj logiki na takich ludziach. Logika nie działa.

3- Absolutnie najgorsze, co możesz powiedzieć, to „przestań być smutny”. Kurwa, naprawdę? Rada stulecia! "Mówisz, że masz depresję? Więc przestań ją mieć." Nie, naprawdę, to nie działa w ten sposób. A piękne hasła motywacyjne w stylu „trzeba tylko chcieć” można włożyć sobie w dupę.

4- Jeśli choremu przepisano jakieś leki, upewnij się, że je przyjmuje. Nie mówię tylko o lekach na chorobę afektywną dwubiegunową, mówię też o wszystkich innych. Na przykład, jeśli ma cukrzycę i ma epizod depresyjny, może bardzo łatwo zrezygnować z insuliny. Czasami jest to świadomy wybór („Chcę umrzeć”), ale czasami jest całkowicie niezależny, po prostu zapomina lub nie przejmuje się tym. Trzeba takiej osobie przypominać, niekoniecznie nachalnie, ale w stylu „czy pamiętałeś dzisiaj o lekach?”.

5- Dobrze jest od czasu do czasu kontaktować się z taką osobą, zwłaszcza jeśli mieszka sama lub często zostaje sama. Nie chodzi tylko o powstrzymanie samobójstwa, ponieważ nie każda osoba w depresji myśli o samobójstwie. Ale chodzi o to, żeby nie była sama, żeby czuła, że ​​ktoś o niej myśli, martwi się o nią. I nawet jeśli w telefonie brzmi wesoło, nie daj się zwieść - zwykle jest to maska, więc należy zachować ostrożność. Musisz jasno powiedzieć, że ci na niej/nim zależy.

6- Mówienie o problemie działa tylko w przypadku chorób fizycznych. Bardzo rzadko w przypadku choroby psychicznej (ponownie: nie próbuj logiki na osobę z chorobą afektywną dwubiegunową). Podczas rozmów staraj się nie rozmawiać o problemie, nie analizuj go, raczej mów o czymkolwiek innym.

7- Dokładnie, dobrą radą, która działa (przynajmniej dla mnie) jest zajęcie takiej osoby. Nie chodzi o to, żeby ją/jego rozśmieszyć, próba rozśmieszania może tylko pogorszyć sytuację. Ale zrobić coś konkretnego. Coś, nad czym nie ma czasu na myślenie. Taką osobę można zmotywować do wspólnego sprzątania (metoda mojej babci, na mnie działa). Można zaproponować nowy uzależniający serial (metoda mojego męża, na mnie działa). Możesz po prostu dużo i często rozmawiać z tą osobą na różne tematy, o grach lub książkach (metoda moich przyjaciół, na mnie działa). Oczywiście każda osoba jest inna, piszę o rzeczach, które w tym momencie działają dla mnie.

Mam nadzieję, że to trochę Wam pomoże.

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[uwingdispatch]

Steady Me

Steady Me

Notes: Brasso/Reader, established relationship, gender neutral reader, post-rebellion/post-war, hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader

**CW: **chronic pain, hospital scene, depression/mental health struggles, implied sexual intimacy

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

Maybe it’s the days and days of rain but when you got out of bed today, you felt a heaviness in your heart that, even into the afternoon, you couldn’t seem to shake. Still, you made yourself get dressed and went into town to run errands during a break in the weather, hoping that getting out of the house for a bit would help you shake this feeling. With Brasso off-planet for the past week helping an old friend get resettled back on Ferrix, you knew you’d just been spending too much time in your own head. Vetch had come by a few times, probably because Brasso had asked him, knowing your tendency to isolate when you weren’t well.  

Perhaps some of the fog was coming from guilt, as you’d originally planned to join Brasso on this trip—but you’d had a debilitating migraine on the day you were meant to travel and sent him without you. He’d made some effort to insist on staying home, but you both knew that Ferrix and your friends needed the extra hands. And now he was late getting back after a storm that delayed all flights off of Ferrix for a day and a half.

You’re barely holding it together when you get a ping on your comm, and you feel like the dam you’ve put up inside yourself is about to break.

“I just got home and you’re not here,” Brasso says. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

You sigh. His voice has always been a balm on your hardest days. “I’m on my way back from the market,” you tell him.

“You don’t sound okay. Let me come get you.”

“You just got home. You must be tired.”

“I am. But I don’t mind.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, but I can. And so I’m going to, if that’s all right.”

You give him the cross streets you’re at and sit on a conveniently located park bench. Winter has taken its toll on the local wildlife, but it’s been warmer lately. Birds are whistling in the trees and you think to yourself that it’s been a while since you heard those whistles. And then you wonder if you’ve just been so depressed that you’d stopped noticing the birds altogether.

Brasso arrives on his speeder bike—a recent purchase. You’d encouraged him to indulge himself a little after last quarter went extraordinarily well at his shop. And you remembered the old days, riding on the back of Brasso’s speeder back on Ferrix, before the war. The first time you’d gotten on the new bike with him, all of those wonderful memories stirred in you. And you’re glad to see him with it today. He gets off the bike and immediately pulls you into his arms, kisses your hair.

“Are you hurt, love?”

“No,” you say. “Just exhausted. Existentially.”

“I know you’ve been struggling. Let me get you home and make you some tea, yeah?”

Brasso secures your bags before the both of you climb onto the speeder, and as he drives you home, your arms wrapped around his middle, a sense of safety begins to return to your body.

When you get home, two plump tooka-cats greeting you at the door, Brasso insists on putting the shopping away. In recent months, even things that had been easy for you had become overwhelming. You sit on the sofa trying to take steady breaths, but you’re just so frustrated with yourself, with your inability to keep up with what should be “normal.”

Brasso puts the kettle on and comes to sit with you, immediately pulling you close, the scent of him warm and comforting as you rest your head on his chest.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you say.

“Darling, there’s nothing wrong with you. Maybe the depression is a bit worse than usual but you don’t have to tough this out alone. You know that.”

“I hate putting my shit on you.”

“You’ve always held me up when I needed holding. And I’m always going to hold you up if you let me.”

“I know.”

Brasso strokes your arm, a sweet, grounding touch. “You’ve been working so hard these last few weeks. Maybe it’s time for a break,” he says. “Can you turn off holonet orders? Take some time off?”

“I’m already taking this weekend off from the market,” you say. “I don’t know if I can afford to do that”

“I know you don’t like to talk about money, but you also don’t need to worry about it right now. We have what we need. We have more than what we need, love. You can afford to take a break.”

You let out a long breath. You know he’s right. And you love him for that. But it still hits sour in your gut. “The way I grew up, the way my family always talked about this kind of thing…I don’t feel good about putting the burden on you. I feel like I need to—”

Brasso interrupts you, tips your chin so you can see his eyes. “Do you remember what I said, just after we were married? When you were in the med center for a week and you were panicking about whether you’d be able to take on as much as you were used to?”

You remember. How he’d squeezed in next to you on that uncomfortable med center cot. And he’d held you until your panic dissipated, telling you that he wasn’t going anywhere, that everything would be okay. And when you finally were able to put words to what you were feeling, how worried you were about your ability to contribute, he’d promised that no matter how much you were able to or even wanted to work he would support you.

“I just want you to be happy,” he’d said that day. “And I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to worry about credits. We’ll figure it out together.”

Today you lean into his touch as he wraps an arm around you. “I remember,” you say. “It’s not that I didn’t believe you. I just…”

“I know, love,” he says. “But please know that I meant it then. And I mean if now.”

The kettle goes off. Brasso kisses your forehead before getting up to make tea. And you watch him, his towering figure, his thick arms, as he walks to your kitchen. You think about all the work he did on your home when you bought this house together to make it perfect for both of you. He and Vetch had knocked out a wall to create a more open space, and from where you’re sitting now you can see him sorting through the cupboard, no doubt looking for the tea he always makes on rough days—a blend similar to one you used to drink together on Ferrix, back before he left.

Returning to the sofa, he hands you your tea and says, “When I got here, I had very little other than the clothes on my back. You let me live in your house, made sure I ate well, helped me find work. We had no idea where this was going, but you took care of me.”

“Of course I did,” you say. “Brasso, you’re my person. I love you. What else would you have expected me to do?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, love. You’re my person. And the way I love you, I will always find a way to take care of you. To take care of us. You just being here is enough.”

There are tears in your eyes when you pull him toward you to kiss him. And he leans into your touch as you caress his face, the short scruff of his beard familiar in your hands, your fingers soon threading through his thick, dark hair.

Before you met Brasso you constantly worried you couldn’t possibly be enough for anyone. Or even, perhaps that you were too much. With all of the baggage you brought with you to any relationship, the way your brain worked, the physical disabilities that kept you from doing even simple tasks sometimes—it was hard to imagine there was a person who would tolerate this much in a partner. And then Brasso came along. And while it took a while for you to see it, he loved you in a way no one ever had. In a way you’d always wanted to be loved. And as the sun sets and he kisses your tears away, your tea growing cold on the table, you remind yourself that he’s never shied away from loving you.

*

It was raining the day you moved into your new house. And it had grown dark since the last box had come inside from the moving truck. Brasso was in the garage with Vetch figuring out a plan for tomorrow, when he’d be back to help you unpack and set up in your larger space. With Brasso, the two of you could probably handle the move yourselves, but that’s not how your community worked. Maybe it was the Ferrixian in you, maybe it was just having survived the upheaval and struggle of a years-long war. But, with the people you held dearest, nobody had to do anything alone.

You were tired, but you’d gotten out the fresh linens you and Brasso had chosen just before the move. Curtains could wait until tomorrow, but for now you got to work on the bed, laying out the clean sheets and the soft duvet. You’d never thought you’d have a house like this—one with a big enough office that you could actually call it a studio. A garage large enough for Brasso to have space for his projects. He’d already laid out a few plans for the next few weeks—you both wanted to take out a wall and open up the space between the living room and kitchen. He especially wanted to build you floor-to-ceiling bookshelves for the paper volumes that had come back into fashion on Gatalenta—and which you’d collected rather quickly. The kitchen cupboards needed redoing and there were some plumbing issues in the guest refresher. But for now—this was yours. Yours and Brasso’s. And as overwhelmed as you were at the prospect of unpacking, of all the work that was to come, you were a happy kind of exhausted when Brasso came into the bedroom and wrapped his big arms around your waist.

“Slow down, darling,” he said.

“I just wanted to get things set up,” you said as he tenderly kissed your neck. “Before we sat down and didn’t want to get back up again.”

“I could have done that,” he said. “But it’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“It’s ours.”

You turned around and Brasso smiled. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek—you brushed it away with your thumb and he tipped your chin toward him, placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“Let me finish in here,” he said. “Vetch helped me get most of the big stuff settled in the living room before he left, and I ordered dumplings. Go rest.”

“He didn’t want to stay for dinner?”

“Apparently he has a date.”

“Good for him,” you said.

You had to admit the ache in your body as you headed out to your new living room, the furniture mostly where it was supposed to be, several boxes left to be unpacked tomorrow. Your two tooka-cats had snuggled up in their favorite chair, exhausted after spending most of the day exploring their new space. There was a bit of a draft, and you made a mental note to check that out tomorrow as you grabbed a knit blanket and laid down on the couch, just to rest your eyes. But you were half-asleep when you heard a knock at the door, Brasso stumbling around boxes as he rushed to retrieve the delivery.

The aroma of your favorite meal never failed to bring you back to the moment, to the beautiful man in front of you somehow holding plates and silverware along with the takeout. “You sure you don’t need some help?”

“I’ve got this.” Brasso said, setting everything on the living room table. “The usual place was closed but I’ve heard good things about this one. You can’t really mess up dumplings, can you?”

You thought back to the first date that never was, back on Ferrix, Brasso in that nice sweater, the little restaurant just outside of town, your absolute inability to see that he’d wanted more than friendship when he’d invited you out that night. And the dumplings.

“I thought this would be nice on our first night in the new house,” he said, sitting next to you. “I’d wanted to actually cook for you myself, but—”

“Are you serious, Brasso?” you said, almost laughing. “We moved today. You were going to cook, too?”

“I thought about it.” he said with a shrug.

And then he kissed you, and you could feel the smile on his lips as you leaned into the kiss, reaching for a moment to touch his face. This was a kiss you could live in forever, and you suspected he felt the same as he wrapped both arms around you, pulling you toward him.

There was a clatter as an empty dish fell off the table. In the corner of your eye: a tooka-cat racing out of the room before he could get in trouble. Brasso filled a glass with a fizzy beverage that the two of you often indulged in on special occasions. And as he kissed you once more he said, “I can’t wait for everything that lies ahead of us, love.”

“Everything?”

“Absolutely everything.”

*

The rain has started coming down again when, after tying up any loose ends to close your holonet shop for the weekend, you look up from your datapad. A part of you feels this weather heavy in your chest—a weight that can’t be lifted. But Brasso is in the kitchen chopping vegetables and you think about the ways in which he has provided for you. When he first came back after the war, he’d always wanted to do the cooking. Each meal was so lovingly prepared—he’d remembered, after all those years, exactly what you’d liked when you were both younger. And he was always eager to try the new foods you’d found and loved since. Whenever you told him he didn’t have to do this, he’d just insisted that until he had steady work he wanted to do this one thing for you.

But it was never one thing. He’d been on Gatalenta for just a week when he started fixing things around the house—things you’d known needed taking care of but that you hadn’t gotten around to.. You’d come home from the market one day and he was putting a base coat of paint on the walls of your refresher.

“I know you’re still thinking about what you’d like in here,” he’d said. “But I thought I could at least prime it today and you can let me know what you want me to do for the color.”

There were samples in the kitchen for you to look at, in the shades you’d mentioned the night before in bed, when you’d thought he was half asleep. But Brasso was always listening, always seemed to know what you wanted. What you needed.

Today, as you watch him from the sofa, you think of all those cold Ferrix nights you spent together. How, over a short text exchange at lunch time, he’d intuit that you were experiencing the kind of anxiety that sent you spiraling and somehow by dinner you’d agreed to have him over for a holofilm night. You’d hear his speederbike outside and immediately feel safer, knowing that for the rest of the night nothing bad could possibly happen. And when it was so late that both of you could barely keep your eyes open, he’d tell you he was too tired and it was too cold to ride home and ask if he could stay on your couch. Later he would confess that he’d worried about you, that he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t wake in the night panicking and alone.

That had always been enough for you. Just him being there. And you tell him this often, but you’re never sure if he quite believes you.

You put your datapad on the living room table and make your way to the kitchen where Brasso is rinsing his dishes, the aroma of one of your favorite comfort meals coming from the oven.

“How are you feeling, love?” he asks. He dries  his hands, places the towel on the counter before pulling you into his embrace.

“Better,” you say. “I think.” You pause. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad, too,” he says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around for you this week.”

“You’re allowed to have a life, Brasso.” You say. “It’s just…a fog I’m in. And I can’t quite reach past it.”

“I don’t really know what that’s like,” he says. “But unless there’s an emergency at the shop, I’m home all weekend. I’ll take care of you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I kind of do. Unless you want some space, of course. But I know you don’t like to call anyone else when you feel like this and I’d rather you didn’t have to be alone.”

“You know,” you say, your head resting on the firm muscle of Brasso’s chest, his heart beating in your ear, “It still baffles me how quickly I felt like you were the one person I could always call. And you’ve always been so generous with your time. Not just with me, but with everyone.”

Brasso kisses your forehead, his lips warm and soft. “I never saw any reason not to be,” he says. “And I never minded. Especially with you. I always knew that if I showed up on your doorstep, you wouldn’t turn me away. Even if you knew that I wasn’t really coming by just to check on you.”

There were nights when you’d hear the buzzer for your door in the evening, after dark, and you immediately knew it was Brasso. Nobody else visited that late unannounced—and there was no one else you’d tolerate this with. But it was Brasso, and so you always let him in. And sometimes he’d say hadn’t seen you at the cafe recently and thought he should come see if you needed anything and you’d invite him in and you’d end up just talking for hours over a late meal. And sometimes he’d show up and you could see in his eyes that something was wrong and you’d let him pretend he’d come by because he was worried about you and not because someone he cared about had gone missing and he didn’t want to be by himself.

“I’m always glad to see you,” you tell him. “Always have been.”

“I know.”

Brasso tips your chin toward him and presses a slow kiss to your lips. You feel like you’re melting at his touch, the layer of fog you’ve been trying to break through perhaps clearing a bit as you reach for him, brushing your fingertips over his angular jaw, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind his ear so you can better see the smile in his eyes.

“Sometimes I think about the day we moved into this house,” he says. “How it felt like this was always where we were supposed to be. Even though I would have liked for us to start our life together sooner. What we have is just so perfect.”

“Nothing’s perfect, Brasso. I think I snapped at you last week for putting cheese in the wrong drawer in the fridge.”

“And the guest refresher sink is leaking again. I probably need to take the whole thing out and get new parts.. I know. It’s not that kind of perfect. But it’s perfect nonetheless.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

“I missed you this week,” you tell him. “I’m so glad you got to help out on Ferrix for a bit. But stars, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, love,” he says. “Any time I leave I’m grateful that I get to come home to you.”

It’s easy to forget everything dark inside you as he drags his thumb slowly over your bottom lip. As his hand slips under your shirt to caress your back. And when he presses you up against the counter, his body flush against yours, there is nothing in your world but him.

“Would it help if I ran you a hot bath?” he asks, bending to kiss your ear. “Dinner won’t be ready for a while. We can take some time to wash away all the difficult things.”

“That sounds nice,” you say.

A shiver runs through your body as Brasso presses a soft kiss to your lips, his gentle hand at your cheek. When he heads down the hall to the refresher, the weight of the galaxy around you is lighter.

“Are you coming, love?” he calls.

And you laugh to yourself as you follow him, remembering that he’d remodeled your refresher just for times like this, for hot baths on days you needed them most. For enjoying those hot baths together. You can already smell the healing salts and sweet soaps he’s chosen for you—all your favorites.

“There you are,” he says.

Gently, he undresses you, and you think that perhaps his touch alone could heal every ache in your body, every anxiety, every dark thought. And as often as he tells you he’s lucky to have you, you feel like you must be the lucky one, to have a man who always seems to find you even when you’ve retreated into yourself. So tonight, in his strong arms, in the comfort of this perfect bath, you believe him when he kisses your shoulder and tells you everything is going to be all right.

★★★★★★★★

It took me way longer to finish this than I’d expected, but I hope you still enjoy it. Thank you for reading! I hope this fic made you feel seen and loved.

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[shabre-legacy]

Chase to the Capitol -Stolen Home chapter 8

The last part of the trip to Coruscant passed quietly. Everyone was rather differential and even the crew and security didn’t really bother her. All her drinks were free, and her and Corso found that they got invited to games of Sabbac and whatever else was being played, or to go dancing or whatever anytime they appeared. She’d even gotten a message from some senator thanking her for saving the ambassador who’d put them in that situation to begin with. 

The passengers were nervous around them though. Corso brought it up when they once again took their drinks back to the room. Too many men approaching her ‘to dance’ practically drooling on the floor because they never stepped outside their tiny little circles and thought the criminal hero would be easy. Too many women approaching Corso. They made him uncomfortable, the man just wasn’t used to the attention and the socialites weren’t used to having a man who knew how to use his strength. The poor girls were both scared of them and very interested and that combination led to uncomfortable situations and overly pushy behavior. Between the two groups, both of them just wanted away from the situation. 

The ‘guests’ were grateful for being saved, and trying to show that, but her and Corso, they scared the passengers. They’d done what trained soldiers hadn’t been able to do, somehow word had gotten out that she’d killed that damn Sith, and without the uniform to suggest some kind of rule that she was bound to, her success made her a bit scary to the pampered socialites on this ship. They didn’t know her, they didn’t know what she wanted and they didn’t know exactly what she was planning or what she was really capable of and it frightened them. Noch’h ria nus’a, as Nuri would have said; amazement and interest and fear and curiosity, it was so very obnoxious. 

Finally though, they made it to the Coruscant spaceport and everyone went their own ways. At last, she could breathe without someone looking over her shoulder, or at least she’d be able to once she got through customs. Unfortunately, an T series security droid approached as soon as they stepped into the arrivals terminal. She stepped over to the customs terminal, hoping the droid wouldn’t notice. A few ill-planned smuggling runs had landed her on certain watch lists with the Republic and that meant every spaceport she entered under her own name ended up with a delay as she was searched and interrogated and there was never enough time to put up with that shit. Lucky for her, or unlucky for customs, she had a cover. 

She glanced at Corso as the droid rolled up and greeted her. Like a team that had been together longer than they had, he smoothly moved between her and the droid and started chatting with the it. She used the moment to slice the terminal. The droid accepted the input from the terminal and wandered off. As they moved towards the elevators, Corso leaned down and quietly whispered, with a hint of a laugh, “Admiral Numinn? Interesting choice.” 

She giggled and gently elbowed him, “nobody messes with an admiral, plus ya know, circumstance. Long story, better not told here.” Giggling, seriously, how long had it been since she’d done that. This was really getting out of hand, the sooner she could get him his blaster and drop him off again the better. Plus Tika would hate having another person aboard, perfect excuse. 

He smiled down at her, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Point taken.” They reached the elevator and caught sight of the scenery out the massive viewports. “Everything in Coruscant is huge. You see those city towers as we flew in? How many people you figure live in those? Millions?” 

Sometimes, she could forget how much of a farmboy he was, the mercenary took center stage. Other times, it was so damn obvious. It was a bit sad though, the state of Coruscant, almost ten years and some things still hadn’t been rebuilt. “Looks like some of those city towers are still short a few levels, thought they’d have fixed that since I was last here.” 

“You been here before, Captain?”

 again with the Captain. He wasn’t gonna stop anytime soon, kinda liked it though.  She shook her head, “another time” 

He shrugged and moved on, he seemed good at that, another question Leikael had about him. “...Even knocked the Jedi Temple off its pedestal.” 

And there it was, the comment always made about Coruscant and the war. “I know, my brother died there.”

That got a real pause from him. “That’s… That’s rough. I’m sorry for bringing it up Captain.” 

Taking a moment to breathe, she quickly waved him off. “I hadn’t seen him in like 7 years anyway. Let’s talk about something else like that banthashit who took my ship and my fracking Cat.”

Corso stared for a moment, “alright Captain, if you say so.” He took a breath, and she could see him shrugging aside the memories of his own loss. Her ability to read people had saved her life a few times, but now it was just obnoxious. “Wanna find Skavak before we’re too old to shoot straight? We’re gonna need local help.”

Help? She’d gotten help and it hadn’t worked. “We’ll just rattle some skulls until Skavak falls out.” Scumbag like that, he’d leave a big ass trail through the underworld. And that was a population she could work with, mostly, well, sometimes. 

“I know a faster way.” That sigh was one of resignation. Almost like his idea exhausted him. “There’s a gambler named Darmas Pollaran who keeps tabs on everything worth knowing about Coruscant. Friend of Viidu’s, good man. You’ll like him.”

Information broker. She’d worked with a few, not a bad resource if you could afford it. “Worth a visit, I guess. Where do I find this Darmas?” Let Corso run off and do whatever, she had no expectations of men anymore. 

“Well, Viidu always said if you look for a Sabbac table surrounded by beautiful women, you’ll find Darmas. But I can narrow that down. I still have Viidu’s holofrequency contacts. Give me a minute…” He pulled out a comm and started tapping at it. 

“Viidu had you keep his contacts?” 

He shrugged, “head of security and bodyguard. Traveled with the old man pretty much everywhere, had to keep the secure frequencies list in case his comm went down. Part of the job.” 

He held up the comm between them and it flickered to life, showing a slim middle aged man.  “Corso, is that you? It’s been too long, you rascal.” His tone implied familiarity, must have had more than a few conversations in the past. 

“A friend and I are on Coruscant and in a real bind. Is there a place we could meet you?”

This Darmas had one of those smooth voices, a slow soft drawl that made it sound like he was trying to charm everyone who could hear him. “Of course, come to my private cantina booth.” something about the game he was playing. Kael was really only half paying attention, she was mostly watching the customs agents standing aways off. She slipped closer to Corso, into the view of the Comm, hoping to look as though they were simply arranging a pickup. “Hope you don’t mind the occasional blaster fire; the cantina’s in a rowdy part of Coruscant.” 

“Sounds like my kind of place.” She could see the moment he saw her. If the holo were more detailed, he’d probably be glancing between her and Corso trying to figure them out. She’d keep him on his toes until she knew more about him. Or at least she’d try to. 

“I hope that’s only the first of many affinities we share.” Of course he was a flirt. She’d expected as much, but he was smooth. Could be fun. 

Corso interrupted before she could respond. “Keep your comm link open. I’ve got some bad news about Viidu.” He tucked the comm away and turned to look down at her. “I’ll bring Darmas up to speed while we travel. He’ll have the cantina coordinates sent by the time we find a Taxi, or shuttle rental or whatever they got for transport here.”

The customs agents were talking to that damn droid and looking at her. “Keep an eye out for that scum-sucker that stole my ship.” She quickly pulled Corso into the elevator and sent it to the main floor. She glanced over as it dropped a few levels and spoke low and careful. “Customs sniffing around, follow my lead.” She didn’t miss the slight shiver when she spoke. 

“You got it, Captain.” she didn’t even have a ship and he still called her captain. It was quickly becoming something she could get very used to.

As they stepped out of the elevator, Leikael leaned into him a bit, threading her arm through his. It was fine. She’d shared a bed with the man and he hadn’t done anything. It was fine and she could handle this. She kept her pace to  a mid speed saunter and started chattering about all the random facts about Coruscant. Trying to appear like a couple of tourists here for a holiday. Each customs agent, each soldier, each guard who passed by without stopping her was one closer to the entrance and making a clean getaway. 

As they finally reached the front of the spaceport and stepped out into the artificial sunlight of Corsucant, Corso stopped, just staring. Up ahead, the galactic senate building loomed tall over everything. All around them, filling in the horizon were hundreds of towers. It was an impressive sight, especially so on your first visit. Leikael grinned and dropped his arm, walking forward a bit. She let a bit of a skip into her step as she moved several steps in front of him. Spinning dramatically, she lifted her arms creating a frame for the view behind her. “Welcome to Coruscant, farmboy. The heart of the republic where half your dreams might come true.”  She spun around and made her way across the walkway towards the building in the middle, still a bit more bounce in her pace than normal. If her memory was correct, there was a public taxi running out of there. They were finally on track to catch the bastard. Now all she had to do was keep enough momentum and Skavak’s head would be hers.

[titan-mom]

Destiny Fic: Sundown

Better late than never, they say.

Pardon me while I squeeze the last of my Rasputin-centric feels out before Beyond Light.

1400 words with Ana and Auburn. I tagged this “coworkers to friends” on ao3.

-

Auburn wrenches the ancient bunker door open far enough to squeeze her shoulders through. Without Rasputin she has to do it manually, and the hydraulics squeak and protest. Ana frets for a moment, if they can’t close and barricade that again it’s a route for hive or psions- but that doesn’t matter anymore, Rasputin is gone and there is nothing important left for them to find.

Or there might be, there might be. And that’s what she is looking for.

She’s a bit surprised Auburn found her so quickly, but maybe she shouldn’t be. This was where he had taken her after all, his time capsule. Ana was working at the station to the left of Felwinter’s crypt, digging for any backups he may have kept in here. Anything that may have survived the destruction.

“Pyramids are filling the airspace, we gotta go.” Auburn calls across the room, striding down the catwalk. “Those things are scrambling comms and transmat telemetry, but I got my ship tucked up somewhere safe. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

But Ana is rooted to the console, bracing herself for this argument. “Tell Zavala I’m not done yet. I’ll go when I’m ready.”

“Not you too. Ana come home.” There’s a sudden pain in Auburn’s voice she doesn’t understand, but she doesn’t have time to understand. She runs another query through the system, searching for him, for any aspect or fragment she’s missed, anything important.

“You don’t get it.” Ana tries, planting her hands on either side of the console and watching the scan surge through files. “He’s my responsibility, and mine alone. Even Zavala sees that. Just tell him that’s what I’m doing, my responsibility. Dealing with my consequences.”

“Ana, I want to help him too, I swear.” Auburn pleads. “But you’re in danger and I promised myself I’d get you out.”

She snorts in disbelief, and Auburn makes an exasperated noise. Ana looks up as the Titan reaches up and tugs her helmet off. Her brow is pinched in frustration and concern. “Why is it so hard to believe that I care? Not just because Zavala told me to but because I give a shit?”

Ana rocks back from the console, irksome, and turns her attention to this brewing argument. She was trying to avoid this. “Look, whenever we’re on comms, and I’m defending myself against Zavala, I just hear you get quiet. I know we hit it off well, I feel like we could have been friends! And I can tell you’re too nice to chime in and side against me too. I appreciate it, but I wouldn’t like, hold it against you-“

“No!” Auburn blurts. “It’s because I don’t want him to hear me siding with you.”

Ana pauses and chews on that. “With me? But you’re- you know…”

Auburn does a little list of her head, like she suspects where this is going, but is going to make her say it out loud.

“You know.” She says again. “You’re… a Titan.”

“And?”

Ana groans a little in the back of her throat, rocks from her heels to her toes, uncomfortable with acknowledging she’s being unfair. She’s stressed damnit. “Figured you’d be siding with your Commander, no matter what. And… that you’d be kind of stuck up about rules. And maybe think everything I’m doing is too stupid or dangerous. Titan things.”

She snorts. “We’ve got free will you know. That’s not a Hunter exclusive trait.”

Ana winces.

“Trust me, I’ve always sided with you.” Auburn presses again.

“Well you never told me.”

Auburn looks ready to snap back, but closes her mouth and looks away, shuffles a bit to fold her arms around her weapon and recede.  Ana watches her like a raptor, thinking steps ahead. She has to win, she has to buy more time to save Rasputin.

But Auburn sighs, and looks like she’s lost the will to fight already. “Look, we don’t talk a lot, because, well, twelve years ago I opened the Skywatch Array and made a friend.” She looks down at the Ikelos shotgun in her hands, a gift. “Zavala forbade me from contacting him and I listened for a while, but then I started talking to Warsats, and they started talking back, and I- I thought I was special.”

She turns and paces the room, the discomfort of the discussion spurning her into movement. “You know I was awestruck at it. I can still play it out in my mind, the silhouette of that array unfurling against a winter’s sky. It was pivotal. It was my very second day alive, my very first act as a Guardian. Ghost was looking for a comms link to call for a pickup and instead we found array codes and a Warmind. He was basically the first person I made contact with, besides Scout here.”

Ana blinks once, and lifts her chin at that. It occurs to her she’s never heard another Guardian so innocuously call Rasputin a person.

“And then a decade went by and I was following a signal on one of his channels and I got your distress call. He led me to you to help you, all the other Guardians out there and he chose me, but I was just crestfallen because I learned I wasn’t the only one he liked. And you’d been with him much longer. You had more of a connection, you were better friends. You’ve even got that nickname for him.”

Auburn laughs mirthlessly. “But you know, couldn’t blame you, wasn’t like you had ill intent. I just had to get over it. Did my best.”

Ana blinks, trying to follow this rapidly developing new direction. “You’re saying… you’re jealous?”

“Yeah.” She admits, ashamed. “Yeah, I have been, the whole time.”

It dawns on Ana, all their past conversations suddenly make sense. The moments Auburn got abrasive, the moments she was defensive. The pang of jealousy Ana had felt when Rasputin guided Auburn down here, into his deepest vault.

It didn’t have to be like this.

“I’m sorry.” Ana says. “He’s… you know. He didn’t mean to make you feel that way. And I didn’t.”

“I know. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry too.” Auburn replies, genuine and honest. But Ana rocks a little on her toes.

“Actually, I’m going to tell you a secret. You absolutely can’t tell Zavala.” Auburn lifts an eyebrow but nods a little. “It won’t hurt anyone. He just doesn’t know exactly how far I’ve been digging into my past, and he wouldn’t like it. I found logs about me, and Rasputin. I actually… programmed him. I was a linguistic anthropologist for Clovis Bray.”

She gives Auburn an apologetic grin. “I gave him the Shakespeare, the opera, all the music and art. I even tried to teach him how to tell jokes, they were just as bad then as they are now. So, technically, it is my fault. I taught him everything he knows, anything he learned he learned from me, anything he didn’t, well, I failed to teach him.”

“We can debate the moralistic division of Guardian and pre-guardian lives another time.” Auburn offers, with a twinge of humor. And she does have a soft smile, now. “I won’t tell Zavala, pinky swear. That said, I do feel a lot better. How did I think I could compete with his actual mom for role of favorite person in the universe?”

Ana barks a laugh. “I am not his mom. Oh, Traveler, am I his mom?”

Then she remembers the loss filling her gut, and decides that’s a thought for later.

“I have to try a little longer.” She says firmly. “I have most of him, in an engram. But its not much and… I think if I can find anything that will help me put him back together, it’ll be here.”

Auburn strides over, looking over her shoulder. Her own expression has returned to something grim. “Scout and I looked around in here before too. Let us help. Two hours, deal? We grab everything we can, and then we get him out of here.”

Ana takes a steadying breath and nods. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Let’s do it.”

She gets a strong Titan shoulder clap in response. “We fly fast enough and we can tell Zavala we only stayed for one.”

Ana grins, despite herself, and moves onto her next search parameter. “Wish we’d been co-conspirators sooner than this.” She admits.

“We were.” Auburn replies, halfway across the room already. “Whether we knew it or not.”

[honourablejester]

Every so often I go through my document folders (which go back years) and basically click on anything I don’t recognise or can’t remember. And then I realise that I have written some weird random stuff over the years.

Exhibit 347, some Event Horizon type fragment of a thing:

Excerpt: The Lora Ellis

Metal. Warmth. Fat, silver ripples of light across the ceiling. The soft sounds of her own breathing and the rush of her own blood in her ears. Liquid warmth buoying her up, cushioning her, cradling her, coiling her safe with itself. A cosmic egg. Her own private universe, warm and shadowed and full of the scent of metal and stale water.

There were more than a few, she knew, who considered the meditation tank an almost unforgivable luxury out here. Water tanks in deep space. A private chamber on an already cramped vessel, useless for anything but its intended purpose. The worst sort of excess, and all the more incongruous for the blunt functionality of the rest of the ship around it. Oh yes. There had been quite a few clients who'd sneered openly at her indulgence here.

Fuck them all sideways, then. On this point before all others, Lena would never be moved.

There was no way her soul or sanity would survive this endless hell of a job without it.

"Contact with salvage vessel in fourteen minutes, Lena," Cora murmured from the comms, her voice a cool, placid ripple through the warmth of the tank, leeching heat and safety as it went. Lena closed her eyes, thin fingers of ice spreading through her chest, and nodded grimly in the dimness. Not that Cora could see that, of course, but it hardly made a difference. She would expect it. All of them would. They all knew the routine by now.

None of them would falter in the face of it. Not anymore.

She breathed out, a long, ragged exhale, and turned over in the water to get her feet beneath her. The floor of the tank was as warm as it always was, the feel of metal under her bare soles a comfort. She stood there for a minute to soak it in, her hair plastered to her skull, water dripping gently past her ears. Then she firmed her jaw, widened her stance, and reached up to grip the access bars at the top of the tank. The DNA lock released automatically at the touch of her palms, and a rush of cool air flooded into the tank from the hatchway.

Jason was waiting outside as she climbed out, a towel over one arm and a datapad in the other hand. His soft brown eyes skimmed across her as she emerged, judging the set of her jaw and readiness in her eyes. Lena arched an eyebrow at him, a weary, bitter sneer curling her lip. He shrugged easily and handed the towel her way.

"Preliminary reports from the salvagers are coming through," he murmured, looking away from her again as she scrubbed down and started pulling on her undersuit. "Target hulk is a deep space exploration vessel. Emeline Class, thirty to forty years old, equipped with the double fusion plants. There's a strong likelihood that she's either the Lora Ellis or the Wayfarer III. Profile, era, and general location are broadly correct for either of them. Salvage captain favours the Lora Ellis. He's something of an amateur expert when it comes to that period, apparently. He puts the odds pretty strongly in her favour."

Lena grunted, wrestling with her boots and ignoring the sinking in her stomach. She didn't particularly care what odds the captain put where. Or which particular Emeline it was, either.

The only thing that mattered was that it was an Emeline.

She'd known, of course. She'd known the moment the salvage team had called for them specifically. It seemed they were the Emeline experts these days. People rarely called them for anything else anymore.

"Let me guess," she growled, fingers locking down tabs with sharp, angry movements. "No preliminary evidence of ship-to-ship combat. No evidence of external impact. No evidence of internal rupture. No signs of life. No power anywhere on the ship. Intermittent sensor ghosts, focused on the fusion plants, the bridge and the crew quarters. Scans for biological matter subject to interference and unable to return results. Attempts to board failed, primarily due to unexplained panic or hysteria on the part of the boarding team and/or sudden equipment failures." She glanced up, expression tight. "How'd I do?"

The corner of Jason's mouth curled into a dark little smirk. "Bang on," he said lightly. "Though, credit to them, they didn't try more than once. Like I said, the captain is something of an amateur expert when it comes to the Emeline Programme. I think he tried the once to be sure it really was one of them. Took a fair few precautions as well, enough that he didn't actually lose anyone in the attempt. As soon as he knew for sure what he was dealing with, he backed the hell off and called for us. Not a stupid man, this one. For a change."

Lena grunted some more, but didn't actually disagree. They'd never been called to one of the Emeline hulks without someone already in a body bag. Maybe it was a refreshing change.

"Don't suppose he knows more about the Lora Ellis than the name, then?" she asked idly. Standing up, arching her back to test the give of the undersuit. She didn't anticipate much of an answer. Emeline's files had vanished thirty odd years ago, along with most of the ships. There were a few fragments knocking around, culled from god-knew-where by various enterprising and ill-advised souls, but nothing substantial. Generally speaking, the first anyone knew of a particular Emeline's horrors was on boarding her and bumping into them face to face.

There'd only been six of the original seventeen ships found so far, with this one the seventh. Lena'd been present for four of them. There'd been no preparing for it. Not a single time.

"Not much," Jason confirmed, leaning thoughtfully on the door as he watched her. "Just that she was the third they launched. First wave. If it is her, she's the earliest we've found so far. Not sure if that matters or not."

Lena paused in her stretch, her arms falling gently and absently back to her sides. Third launched. The six they'd found so far had been mostly from the latter end of the Programme, with one from the second wave. She'd been there for that one. She couldn't ... she couldn't quite remember whether or not it had been worse. They were all worse. She didn't know how much of that was her own fatigue. But that one ...

"Run triple checks on everything," she said, somewhat vacantly as she cast her mind back, ignoring his stir of motion at her side. "Everything. Especially Cora's links, and the remote grounding. Full hermit seals on the suits. Make sure there's nothing they can access."

"... I take it it does make a difference, then," he murmured, almost wryly, and Lena blinked back to stare at him a little bit. There was an odd look in his eyes. Not Cora's patient calm or Lena's own bitter acceptance. They hadn't been together that long, but she'd already noticed that Jason tended more towards a dark sort of humour instead. Amusement, in a black, fatalistic sort of way. She wasn't sure yet how much she liked it. She wasn't sure how much she trusted it to hold steady.

Though he hadn't let them down yet. Not once, and he'd been there for an Emeline before, and the Lorca V as well. Whatever sort of humour he ran on, he hadn't faltered yet.

"... I don't know," she told him. Honestly. "It might do. I'm not sure. I was there for the Oberon Grey, but a lot of it's gone now. The impact fades over time, at least for me. Probably good. I wouldn't have lasted this long if it didn't.”

End Excerpt

[losangelesvalorant]

interesting things from tactical crouch’s interview w fusion assistant coach chrisTFer on 1/21

christfer talks abt hero bans, why fusion underperformed in s2, and why their roster is what it is. ill update this post w the youtube link once its out

On hero bans

Christfer thinks hero bans would change EVERYTHING, every team would have to be able to think on the fly, strong ingame leadership, makes coaches' jobs a lot harder, have to practice every hero on every map. you'd have to coach fundamentals into players a lot more and more focus on quickly IDing win conditions and the enemy gameplan. very seriously hopes they aren't gonna drop it this season

if the goal is to have genuine diversity in hero pool, bans is the way to achieve that, but christfer thinks itll fuck up the competitiveness, level of play will go down. but any aspect that helps spectators is better for league overall

volamel thinks hero bans will excite and drive the audience bc banning players specific heroes would be hype as fuck. lotta strategy, lots of analysis. however he's skeptical bc if it happens midseason it's gonna fuck over coaches

christfer thinks if theyre gonna do it they gotta do it today. there's no other good time

yiska thinks it would be bad to implement it midseason bc the # of games teams play across the season is sooo spread out. teams have different amts of games every month

on why fusion underperformed in s2

Internally, fusion was kinda "naive" coming into s2, thought they were the 2nd best team and acted as if they were 2nd best. rarely felt happiness after scrims bc theyre "supposed" to be winning all the scrims. losing scrims also was hugely negative for the same reason

smaller roster makes it harder to kick people into gear, so lack of motivation was a big thing. they were just waiting for goats to die

thought goats wouldnt continue into s2, stage 4 was where they finally got motivation, fusion never completely understood the goats style of play or the fundamentals goats taught teams, they lost games they shouldnt have as a result. Not one big issue, lots of small issues

fusion held themselves to such high expectations that when they failed them and weren't enjoying the game as much so morale fell. (paraphrased) "as long as my players enjoy playing the game, it makes my job easier"

Christfer says fusion changed a lot for playins, changed coaching structure, overwhelmingly positive result. best theyd looked all season

shanghai had very particular strengths on certain maps. fusion was winning brawl comps vs brawl comps. got nervous and dropped maps they were supposed to take, but theyd given away too many of "their" maps to be able to lose shanghai's maps. 

felt like they hit the ground running on playins, but other teams levelled up across playins and christfer believed other teams wouldve developed more than they would have

even if coaching wasnt problem if team is in a slump you need new coaches to re-fire everyone up, which is what happened w fusion. 

on carpe and sado

carpe was able to play heroes he excelled at in s1, in s2 zarya was entirely different in elements of what makes a player good at the hero. carpe holds himself to a very, very high standard and playing zarya killed his morale because he wasn't so good at it. christfer considers it a failing of himself as a coach that he didn't help carpe work through that more

nobody on the team is worried about carpe’s performance. Christfer confirmed carpe wont play if he isnt up to standard (in response to reddit worrying abt how long his contract is and how much sway he has over coaches)

christfer is very upset about how people treat sado. sado is the "single nicest person you will ever meet." every single player/coach had 1 on 1s with tucker, everyone said they wanted to keep playing with sado. yiska emphasized how important it is that every player on the team wanted to keep playing sado bc for example eqo and carpe want to win more than anything and if they thought sado was the problem they absolutely wouldve said so

Other teams came to fusion wanting to sign sado

christfer said sado wasnt the greatest main tank player last year, but playing rein in a "dysfunctional" team makes the rein player look bad. 

christfer thinks this is the "season of sado." has complete faith in him

the complaints abt sado’s rein "[he] can understand," says to remember sado had never played pro before s1. he doesn't have as much competitive exp which hits him hard but he's grown wildly in the last year. 

sado's ability to hit every halt at the right time is incredible. compares him to alarm in how good his instincts are. excellent player in a team environment, kinda a big brother to some of the players on the team, sado is very important to the team

christfer agrees that if meta shifts and sado is sick, theres a problem, but says this is not a problem unique to fusion

on fusion’s new acquisitions

heesu surprised christfer the most. he’s “very, very, very very, very good.” hungry to learn, easy to talk to, they got a very good deal and christfer is surprised more teams didn't try to get him

heesu has a lot of respect for carpe, heesu said its a + for him to work under carpe

theyre trying to scrim w heesu daily, sounds like they intend to play him if the opportunity presents itself. excellent signing theyre very happy abt

the point of the chipsa signing was that they didnt need a 5th dps, their lineup is already perfect, they had to find someone that "made sense" from many levels. wanted a specialist. Christfer thinks chipsa understands the raw mechanics of doom better than any owl players, thinks he could legit play in a doom meta. also thinks chipsa could teach eqo doom in a doom meta. chipsa provides advertisement, no need for scrimming with him. if the situation is right he can play and if he's not playing he provides income, publicity, etc. christfer again restated he was originally against the signing. when tucker explained why hed be signed, christfer came around to the idea

having 2 way players is a headache in christfers opinion, so that was another reason why they didnt pick up a contenders player instead of chipsa.

chipsa has not had a scrim yet because he’s not in philly bc visa stuff, but christfer did not clarify whether or not he will scrim. 

of all players signed, funnyastro was by far the most in demand. they had to fight for him, almost every team wanted him. he's a "sponge" where he remembers whatever coaches tell him, incredibly coachable, very mature for his age, needs to adjust his playstyle a bit to fit into the team (bc he's going for plays he shouldnt sometimes) but if they can "tune him back" a bit hes great. want to find a middle ground bc astro's ability to kill everything and doing his job (brought up moth as the "glue guy" who enables everyone by doing his job perfectly)

alarm has insane awareness, has natural affinity for positioning, understands ovw instinctively. zero attitude issues, the nicest/perfect teammate. "the whole package."

yiska said ivy has a "special type of character," quickly clarified that it’s not a “problematic” character, but needs a dif type of coaching (christfer agreed)

thinks things got difficult for ivy on toronto bc he was moving roles so much, kdg puts a lot of stock into him, a lot of kr players do too. people from toronto think ivy is insane mechanically. volamel thinks ivy should have been toronto's standout

fury wasnt signed bc of bad synergy btween sado and poko. poko wasnt the problem. fusion is very serious abt winning everything and fury is a statement of that intent. fury/poko cover every base

on new coaches

Christfer really respects seita and kdg, happy to have gotten them. has worked w both of them in the past, considers kdg similar to crusty. they signed kdg like the second he became available, christfer asked for him specifically. 

seita will stay remote 

yiska says mobydik is nuts in terms of game knowledge. Christfer agreed, says he thinks abt the game in a very unique way, outside of the box

misc

Fusion has a system where all 3 supports are rotating in the current meta. nobody is benched. had main support play bap originally when bootcamping, but theres places u can play 2 flex sups, so fusion has a lot of flexibility. who plays depends on situations where you can always play zen/bap vs where you might have to flex to lucio

Christfer thinks main sups doing calling/single caller system is a bit outdated and more of a western concept, trying to build comm system where everyone communicates, everyone calls their own ults. can have ingame leaders, but wants everyone to call what they need to call. in this meta everyone has to make the plays and call their own ults bc its split second and only the person w the ult can see the optimal situation

Christfer thinks the positions where you need stability in ovw is main tank and main support. subbing dps players in and out is fine but you need consistency at mt and ms. 

really really think they dont need to fill their last roster spot

Christfer calls this season a "rebuild season" for fusion. if they dont do well this year christfer thinks it would be the fault of the coaches. too much talent to fuck it up. 

not taking home a title is not exactly a failure, but anything within the top 4 fusion is happy with