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[avajanelms]

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[plumberrosenbergtx]

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[fanofthings20]

Blackfire Part 1

First meeting

Agatha after her trial where she absorbed all the coven members' powers (killed them all) what occurred was out of her control her power is of the dark arts of absorbing any powers used against her. She is deep in the throes of shock and remorse just staring at their remains. She didn’t even notice the figure clad in black until the figure was lifting her face and when purple and dark green eyes met there was an instantaneous connection between them. Their magic blended together so well that they could not deny their soulmate status even though they had just met it felt like they had always been aware of each other's presence. 

Before any words were said this mysterious figure placed theirself in front of Agatha’s sightline while simultaneously behind their back waving a hand in quick motion with a brief flash of green and the bodies surrounding them disappeared. This figure after ensuring the bodies are gone goes down on their knees to be at Agatha’s level and hugs them. Agatha seeking all the comfort she can from this stranger clings to them with all her strength. After Agatha has slightly started to recover and lets go of this person, she looks back up to their face which is covered with a hood/mask where their dark green eyes are visible. 

They both slowly stand back up off the wooden planks. Agatha steps close enough to where she can finally reach the hood, her hands make this move slow enough to where the other has enough time to grant permission with a single nod. Once the hood and mask have fallen she is greeted with the most unbelievably sexy female face with the smuggest grin to exist. Do you like what you see, sweetheart? This was the first vocal response out of her soulmate and she was struggling to stay focused given the sexy face and deeper-toned voice coming from her new companion. 

The name is Rio Vidal. Rio just stands there admiring how flustered and distracted her mate is. Rio purposefully invades Agatha’s personal space in a way that their bodies are touching and that there is little to the imagination for what lies underneath. Seductively whispering in her ear Unless a cat has your tongue, I need your name Fuerte (sexy). Agatha finally recovers from Rio’s presence and tries to turn the tables on her by saying Agatha, Agatha Harkness hot stuff. 

Wedding: estimation month after they met

Given they were already fate-determined soulmates there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Since they did not have a coven their only choice was to visit Lilia Calderu who was a semi-mentor/older parental figure option that showed true interest and care in Agatha. Since Agatha’s mother was a total letdown of a b-witch (if you get Agatha’s drift). Honestly, Evanora should count herself extremely lucky that she was already dead by the time Rio and Agatha connected and that Rio only had one capability after death. Rio is highly protective of Agatha so there are times when Evanora is mentioned that Rio takes great pleasure in scheming ways she would have repaired the torture she put Agatha through.

Now Agatha and Lilia had a 50/50 relationship between family figures or sarcastic old witches. But Lilia was indeed happy and slightly concerned when she discovered who her soulmate was given how honestly psychotic Rio can seem to be at times. It happened to be a full-blood moon on the night in the woods that they had their ceremony and Lilia served as the officiate and witness. It was a quick service but staying within tradition these powerful witches said their vowels in Latin Rio’s facio Amor (I do love) and Agatha’s i parum pudici (i do sexy). With a simple rope of their personal items lightly wrapped around their connected hands. They finally share their first kiss as soulmates and wives getting so caught up in the emotions and powers that Lilia has to clear her throat at least four times to bring their attention back to the present. They thank Lilia for her time with payment before rushing back to their new-ish home. 

Once they reach the security of their home, given they are both the most powerful witches (extra power with full blood moons), ever so sassy and playful energies, both dominates, etc. It turns into a full fledge sexy fight for power over each other and the deep-rooted desire to f**k the life out of their partner. A lot of flinging the other around, knife cuts, pinning wrists to walls/floors/tables/bed, flipping each other, sassy back talk, all the positions imaginable, unbelieve number of orgasms. They were up all night long going as if they were senor scratchy (if you get the drift). On more than one occasion during the consummation of their wedding, there was a bright light of a mixture of dark purple & dark green color combo. They were caught up in the pleasure to notice the light bustings which would lead to quite the discovery later.

4 months later

Our marriage so far has been amazing nothing but absolute bliss and love. One night after dinner we were in the living room together on the couch. The habitual routine of Agatha using my lap as a pillow reading one of her books while I fiddled with my blade and are both casually finishing off our wine glasses. I was slightly distracted tonight by this connection to another being that has been around for a month but it feels more like dreamwalking with brief glimpses into their life. This being seems to be in serious trouble and completely alone given what was glimpsed last night of it chased by these suits of armor. 

One of those armor suits lashed out, striking close enough to a foot to knock this being off balance and there was a mirror right across from the spot this being fell. This being took a moment to look in the mirror before glancing back at the shadows, it gave me the chance to notice it's a small wolf pup. But the look in the eyes and the power essence there's more to this pup than regular pups. I felt a thumb caressing my cheek and her voice was distant at first but as my focus returned to the present I could finally hear “come back to me darling”. 

  Leaning into her touch allowed me to breathe in her scent to keep me grounded. Looking down at her it was easy to notice the concern in her purple eyes. “You okay hot stuff”  “I’m okay mi amor just thinking of that pup I told you about”  “Any more indicators of where this mysterious pup of yours might be darlin'?”  

 “I’m not sure but it feels like it might be a darker world”  “Well we will keep looking until we find the pup”  “mi amor, I think there's more to this pup than meets the eye it seems like a darker toned magic than either of ours in this pup”  “at least the pup will fit right in with what seems to be the running requirement of darkness” Agatha took a little longer to stare into Rio’s eyes and rubbing her cheek until she felt that Rio was indeed okay before she returned to her book. They stayed like that for two more hours before heading to bed for the night.

When the connection was reestablished, it was impossible not to notice the extreme pain that the pup was injured. This time instead of being chased the pup had been cornered by at least four of those armored suits there was no possible path excluding going right through those suits which were three times the size of the pup. The pup was snarling, waiting and watching as these suits came closer until the darkest level of magic was unleashed that disintegrated those suits. Watching the armor fall apart on first contact and the figures within were instant imploded messes. This is a dark level of magic that surpasses even the Darkhold’s abilities which is intriguing because that has never been achieved before. 

But the power this pup holds can be examined another day because that magic flare was essentially a flare saying here I am for those suits to follow. Speaking of the devil about ten more suits headed this way, no idea if the pup can hear me I start whispering “you gotta start running pup”. The pup took off running as fast as its injured body could afford but there was a slim chance the pup would be able to get away. It seems our intentions and connection were aligned because in the next moment, there was a black light and then nothing. I intended to reach this pup to get them out of harm's way.

When the connection died off in the present there were a couple of loud thuds starting with our bedroom ceiling and what sounded like the front porch roof. When Agatha heard the second thud she woke up and we both rushed downstairs to investigate given no one should have been able to breach our protective wards. Since we had no clue what awaited outside the front door I kept Agatha behind me because she could get injured whereas I had no such capability. Getting closer to the door I felt a familiar presence on the other side that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than the real deal. Either my grin or our connection gave Agatha all the details she needed to have a feeling about who had finally found their way to us.

“Shall we go meet our mysterious wolf pup addition my love”  “Indeed mi amor, do we have any healing potions available?”  “Yes darling, is it for you or our addition”  “Our addition seems to have gained recent injuries”  “Let's not delay giving care any longer” With that they finally walked outside to see a small black-furred wolf pup lying on its left side with a pretty deep bleeding gash with a metal arrow sticking out of its right side. The pup had been staring at its injury and didn’t notice us at first but when I stepped off the porch onto a branch its attention snapped right to us. Instead of being defensive snarls that's expected, the pup lets out low pained whines it stares at us for a few moments before it turns its attention back to its injury. I have a gut feeling about what might occur and no matter how much I gotta give the pup credit for trying to use the same method I would. 

I also don’t want to watch them make the wound worse especially when it’s been a long journey of trying to track this pup down. There’s a deep connection between us that I want to have the chance to explore along with the power this young one holds. I try reaching for our connection and it seems to both of our surprise the connection comes to life keeping our little friend further distracted allowing me to reach them telepathically. “Oscuro cachorro (dark pup) don’t do it, I admire your plan but you don’t have to worry about danger here.”  “we’ve been looking for you cachorro, it was finally time for you to be safe at last”  “all you have to do now is trust us to care for you and to help learn your powers”  

I can sense there’s a human element hiding in this pup, patiently waiting till they feel comfortable to speak up. At this point, I've managed to get within five feet of our pup trying to ensure it feels safe enough to not withdraw on me. I feel a gentle nudge in my mind before hearing a young but deeper-toned voice “I’m sorry Lady Death, for failing you”  “you didn’t fail darkling, but we can sort that out after your better”  “I can’t shift back until energy is recovered”  “Wouldn’t want you to shift now anyway given your recovery will be less pain and faster for you this way.”  “That is my soulmate Agatha, do you have a name darkling?”  “No names given to death carriers”  “That’s okay, we can sort out a well-deserved name for you when you're better.”  “I’m going to pick you up now so you can meet Agatha and go inside for wound care, is that okay?”  “Trust you”

Carefully approaching and picking up our pup holding them in my arms walking back towards Agatha who’s watching with nothing but concern and care in her eyes. When we get close enough our pup lifts their head off my arm to reach out and sniff Agatha’s extended hand. They sniff for a while before giving her a quick licking, head nudge and speaking to me with an even weaker voice level  “trust her”.   “Easy pup save what energy you have let now” I finally look up at my love speaking out loud to her “Our pup trusts you darlin”. After that we head back in the house to treat her wound.

TBC in Part 2

Taglist:

@i-believe-in-melinda-may @thesapphictimelady @apenas-comentarios-e-reeposts @believe-in-magic13 @pusteblumenfan @darlyuniverse @scoliobean @abandonlilly @polaris-likethestar @cheesysoup-arlo @gallifreyan85 @thecavalrywife @sgm616 @angelbeingatitspurest

[calaisreno]

His Favourite Jumper

Sherlock can be careless, but he always tries to make things right.

1627 words / Prompt: Eavesdropping

“What’s this?” Mrs Hudson frowns at what he’s showing her. “John’s jumper?”

“John’s favourite jumper. I need to fix it.”

She takes it in her hands and assesses the damage. It’s a nice jumper, all worsted, cabled up the front, the sleeves set in with steeks. Certainly hand knit by someone who knew what she was doing. She assumes it’s a she; there aren’t many men she knows with the patience to knit.

“What did you do to it?”

“The flat was chilly, so I was wearing it. Borrowed it. John wasn’t home. I was doing an experiment and spilled acid on it. I’ll need matching yarn, I assume. And knitting needles.”

The holes are extensive, she notes, and even a good darner would find it hard to repair such extensive damage. Still frowning, she looks up at him. “Do you know how to knit?”

“Well, no. But knitting is just interlocking loops. How hard can it be?”

She stifles a snort. The poor boy is distressed, but determined to fix what he’s ruined. No one should despise a novice effort, but…

“Sherlock, love, these are a lot of holes, and matching the colour and type of the wool is a bit harder than you might think. Even if you could find a match, even you could darn them all, it’s not going to be like new. He’ll be able to tell.”

His face falls a bit. “But he can’t know I’ve ruined it. And he’ll notice it’s gone.”

“You might buy him a new one.”

“This one was hand-made by his grandmother. It won’t be the same.”

 Nothing is the same, she wants to say. Sometimes we have to let go of things. 

But he’s looking at her so hopefully, and it’s a shame to crush that kind of hope. It’s obvious what’s happening. He’s been in love with John since they moved in together. Sherlock can be careless, but that’s because he’s heedless in his enthusiasm. This isn’t the first jumper he’s ruined, and that’s surely part of his worry. John does have a temper. 

“Just tell him. He’ll forgive you.”

“He’s always forgiving me, and I just keep ruining things. Please, Mrs Hudson. Won’t you show me how?”

Now his eyes shine with tears that threaten to fall.

She gives him a darning lesson. 

John notices the jumper is missing. She sees him going through the laundry, looking for it, and then through the bins. 

When he asks, she plays the innocent, asking him when he last wore it, whether he might have taken it off and left it somewhere. He shakes his head.

She’s watching an old movie late one night when Sherlock brings his work down to her. 

“It looks awful,” he says, slumping on her sofa. “I can’t give it to him like this.”

“I think you’re underestimating him, love. He’s not going to leave because you ruined his jumper.”

“This is not the only thing I’ve ruined,” Sherlock replies. “I broke his mug, I lost his charging cord, and I accidentally set his book on fire. It was only a paperback, but still. He must think I’m trying to drive him out.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

Sherlock’s face is pleading. “Please, Mrs Hudson. You must show me how to knit.”

“Knitting a jumper takes time.”

“How long, would you estimate?”

“Well, there’s the size. It’s not a large one, so that’s all right, and it’s a thicker yarn. Made in the round, so there won’t be much stitching up. But you’re a novice, and that adds hours. I would say… forty hours, minimum.”

“A week, then?”

“When will you find forty hours in your week to work on it?”

“John goes to bed earlier than I do, and he’s at work most days. I’ll sleep when he’s home, so I can work on it when he’s gone or asleep.”

She gives him a knitting lesson.

A skilled eavesdropper, she overhears their conversation, John asking, Sherlock giving a shrug and suggesting that if he had indexed his jumpers, maybe he wouldn’t have misplaced it. 

At night, Sherlock comes down for instruction. She shows him how to make ribbing around the bottom and cables as he travels up the body. He has good dexterity and makes quick progress.  

“He’s bought himself a new jumper,” he informs her. “Very cheap. Obviously machine-made. And the yarn is plastic!”

“Acrylic,” she says. “It has the advantage of laundering well. No shrinkage.”

“I hate it,” Sherlock replies. “But mine looks uneven. I’m not happy.”

“You have to check your gauge. You’re new to this, so it’s probably changed as you’ve become more proficient.” 

She pulls out her gauge ruler and shows him. “See? It’s narrowing. Your stitches are getting tighter.”

“How do I fix it?”

“You can either switch to larger needles, or you can recalculate, unravel, and start over. Either way, you’ll need to pull out a few rows.”

He presses his fingers against his forehead. “This is going to take years!”

“Not years.” She pats his hand. “You’ve got the hang of it. Even experienced knitters have to pull out days of work sometimes. It’s worth it to get a jumper that looks good.”

He gives a heartfelt sigh, slides the jumper off the needles, and begins pulling the stitches out.

She admires his determination. It takes him weeks to work his way to the armholes, and then she shows him how to do a steek where he will attach the needles for the sleeves. As his consulting business picks up, the weeks turn into months. 

At Christmas, John wears a dark blue jumper with an Icelandic yoke of red and white. She admires it; he smiles and tells her his grandmother made it for him. Sherlock’s eyes are on him, every time John isn’t looking. It’s not the jumper he’s admiring.

The jumper is set aside after Moriarty steals the Crown Jewels, hacks into the Bank of England, and breaks into Pentonville Prison. 

Sherlock bows out of John’s birthday, claiming he has a ‘thing.’ When she comes up to check on him, he’s finished one sleeve, ready to start the other.

She can see John is hurt that Sherlock skipped his birthday. He didn’t even get him a card. He says nothing, but the way he looks at Sherlock makes her certain; he’s in love with his flatmate.

Afterwards, an awful silence fills the flat. She can hear the floorboards creak a bit as John paces back and forth. There’s no violin to soothe him to sleep. 

It’s days before she can bear opening the door of his room, but she knows she has to put things in boxes. His brother has promised to continue paying the rent until he can collect his things. But it’s heartbreaking, looking at all the familiar clutter. She has to tidy up.

There are clothes scattered on the floor, and she gathers them for the wash. She goes through his drawers, tallying how many boxes she’ll need. In the wardrobe, all his suits and shirts hang in dry cleaner’s bags. 

As she prepares to close the wardrobe door, she spots a file box with a label reading: Experiment. Do not open!

She opens it, of course. Can’t have experiments biding their time in the wardrobe. He always had odd ideas about what was acceptable. 

Inside, she finds the jumper. He worked on it for more than a year, and it’s nearly done, just the bottom half of the second sleeve left, and he’s tidied up the ends on the inside already.

It’s a good piece of work, she decides. A long apology for something John would surely have forgiven. It’s love unspoken, words he could never say.

Such a shame, she thinks. 

That evening, she finishes the second sleeve, weaves in the final ends. It needs hand washing and blocking, so she takes on those tasks as well.  

When it’s done, it looks perfect. If she were judgemental, she would say it’s even better than the original. She folds it and wraps it in tissue paper, places it inside a Marks & Spencer shopping bag. 

John Watson is going to get his apology, even if it’s long overdue.

She finds the dismal little flat where he’s living now. Moving out hasn’t made him any happier, she can see when he opens the door. 

“Mrs Hudson,” he says, apologetic. “You didn’t have to—”

“It’s fine, John. I’ve brought you something.”

He opens the bag, reaches in. Frowning, he pulls out the jumper. 

“This,” he says, practically speechless. “It’s beautiful. It’s almost like the one…”

“The one Sherlock ruined,” she finishes. “He was so distraught over that, John. He was afraid you wouldn’t forgive him.”

“And… you made this… to replace it.” He’s feeling the wool, an incredulous smile on his face. “Mrs Hudson, this is beautiful.”

“No, love.” She smiles, the tears starting to fill her eyes. “He made it.”

For a moment he just gazes, not comprehending. “Sherlock? He made this?”

“For you. He ruined the other— it was an accident. You know him, so careless when he got caught up in things. And he wanted to make it right, so you’d forgive him. He didn’t know how, so I taught him. He did it all himself.”

He buries his face in the jumper. She can see his shoulders shaking.

“There, love. He had it nearly done, and was intending to give it to you, before… well, I know he’d want you to have it now.” She pats his shoulder. “He really loved you, John. I hope you know that. He worked on this for over a year, right up to the end. He loved you.”

Weeping, John raises his face. “I loved him too. And I forgive him.”

@lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl

A knitter of jumpers myself, I imagine that Sherlock would enjoy the mathematical aspects of the craft. 🧶 💕

[ms-demeanor]

Not to bombard you with job-type questions on Tumblr, but I just had a quick question I was hoping you could shine some amazing expertise on. My laptop (a Dell G5 I got in '19) recently started telling me the SSD is "at the end of its usable life".

How quickly do I need to be worried about looking into replacement drives/computers? Is there somewhere I can look to know how close I might actually be to needing one? I'm just not sure if this is the kind of thing they tell you wayyyy before you actually need one or not to scare you into spending $$ or actually good advice from them. But if it's really likely a risk, I'm willing to start shopping. I just don't want to jump the gun if I've got some time. Thanks in advance for any advice you'd be willing to share! =D

hmmmm okay so the deal is that when an SSD fails it fails in such a way that it's totally unrecoverable so I'd say right now today as soon as possible, take a backup, and once you've gotten your backup go ahead and look into getting a replacement drive.

Cloning a drive is easy, the question is whether you feel capable of getting the cloned drive into your computer. (you can look up the model on ifixit or youtube to see the step by step process of breaking down your computer and replacing parts). If you do feel comfortable replacing the drive, I'd say spend the money on the drive and swap it out yourself (cost: about $60 and maybe a headache). If you don't feel comfortable with that, I'd say to see if you can find a local repair shop and ask them to do it for you (cost: probably around like $200.)

If you DO NOT feel comfortable replacing the drive and the computer initially cost less than double the price of an estimated repair, you may want to consider replacing the computer.

Your computer is five years old, which is about the age that we'd generally consider replacing drives in a desktop or laptop at work because HDDs and SSDs *do* have limited lifespans, but just because it has a limited lifespan doesn't *necessarily* mean the drive is going to fail.

If you're the kind of person who can go a few days without your computer and who makes reliable backups and you don't have any software that's directly tied to the drive on that device that you wouldn't be able to get back, you can probably safely wait and not worry all that much - there's likely some life left in the drive and you don't need to run to the repair shop right away.

If you can't go a few days without your computer, or are at risk of permanently losing expensive software, or think you might forget to make backups and lose some important work, maybe consider replacing sooner than later.

[maleficentmrsofallevil]

"Entitled" BJD collector, me

I've got an axe to grind due to a large order I have with a company. Thanks to a lovely bonus, I was able to pay off my layaway early. Re-reviewed my order, and realized I forgot to order bags (I hate those enormous boxes BJDs come in, and if they have any fancy print on them, I can't recycle them). Quick email to the company - Hey, I forgot to order bags. So sorry. Can I add a couple bags to my order? (it's a BIG order)

Doll company snaps back: "If you wanted bags, you should have ordered them when you ordered your dolls."

Oooooo-kay.

Less than 24 hours later: "The optional hands you ordered aren't the same color as the doll. Seeking your kind understanding."

I ordered the hands at the same time I ordered the doll.

I pointed out to the company that when I make a mistake, you snap at me. When YOU make a mistake, I'm supposed to be understanding. I'm pretty sure my email flew right over their heads, but that could also be a translation thing.

I'm done ordering from that company, but it made me realize that I am becoming an "entitled" collector.

It made me realize that this is a luxury hobby, but this is not a rich person's hobby. Rich people - truly wealthy people - expect to be catered to. They expect to get exactly what they want, exactly when they want it. Truly wealthy rich people would not put up with half the shit BJD collectors do. They would not accept dolls that arrive with imperfections, scratches, mis-matching resin, blushing that's already starting to peel, and 3-6 month wait times in which you hope you get what you paid for. They would not put up with poor to nonexistent customer service, not answering your questions for days to weeks at a time, and all the crazy shit that happens with shipping and delivery.

But if the rest of us acted like that as doll collectors, we would be acting "entitled." Emailing a company and asking them to make a certain type of doll is "rude." Asking when your doll is estimated to ship is "annoying." Asking for resin samples is "a waste of time." Expecting after sales service (repair/replacement parts) is "unreasonable." You pay what they tell you to pay. You get what you get. And you better fucking LIKE it, or ELSE. No returns. No cancellations. No refunds.

Tell me what other business operates this way?

My order was as much as a used car cost in my younger days. To me, that is a LOT of money to get jerked around and snapped at by a doll company.

I don't know, man. Folks who make the same complaints I do get told, "Maybe this isn't the hobby for you."

Maybe not.

[wispstalk]

as far as how I'm doing, I'm ok. My household is well-resourced and my boss is doing everything he can to make sure our folks are taken care of. Estimates on repairs to the water system have been anywhere from 1-4 months, and based on a friend's quick napkin math, there are about 130,000 people in our area with no water.

So many people want to be of help and it's been a little scattershot, but it's useful to pick one thing and focus on that. So I have. It's not glamorous! I'm teaching people how to make and use dry toilets, because people are resorting to dangerous alternatives that will spread cholera. I'm funny and charming and capable of talking to people about delicate topics, and other skills/tools I have (chainsaw and ability to haul) are better left to professional crews right now. So I'm on the shit squad 💩

If you've never faced a long spell without running water and aren't sure what you'd do, we're using graphics from this resource.

[stuckybarton]

Heads Under Water VIII

Summary: Things go as planned but not in the way anyone expected. Character: K'uk'ulkan/Namor x Atlantean Descendant! Filipino! Female Reader. Word Count: 2,195 Chapter Warnings: Mention of Ambush and Bloodshed. Mention of drowning.

Series Masterlist || Masterlist || Join the Library (no longer do taglist you can just turn on notif here)

Part VIII

“I’m surprise you’re here.” You couldn’t help but smile at Agent Ross as you and a few of the Dora Milaje had gathered by the shores as you were ready to turn this device on.

In your hand was a laptop that would allow you and anyone that wanted to watch from the camera you have installed into the machine as well as the one also attached to Shuri’s wetsuit for the duration of the repairs to be made. With the extensive damages, you had estimated the repairs to take well over three hours, but you wanted to make sure the machine as well as Shuri’s suit could withstand a longer duration just in case anything goes wrong. Multiple suits already on standby for the Dora Milaje to use.

“It’s not every day that something like this happens in Wakanda.” Ross pointed out with a gentle smile. “A little action here and there wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

You could only nod and continue on with watching Shuri set herself up in the suit. A reassuring smile on her face as she continued on with talking to her mother—letting her know that this was a safe project and if it was not she was allowed to behead her. A joke that truly had you lost for words. You know she was joking but somehow the anxiety was getting to you more than you would even admit.

“All set?” You asked instead after a moment. Queen Ramonda even in her pristine and blank look held the worry you were all too familiar with. It was the same look you had seen from your mother when you had told her you were flying to New York for a job opportunity.

It was a worry you wanted to make sure would not be warranted for what was about to happen. Your eyes turned to where numerous Talokanil warriors were also gathered, weapons in their grasped and behind them were the King and his two generals, the expectations of what was to come for today rested heavily on your shoulders.

"I'm ready when you are, Doctor." Shuri beamed, hands now holding onto your own. "And again, I know I do not say this enough, thank you for the help you had given to us. Even after knowing the real reason for your arrival here in Wakanda."

"I've learned so much too. And if you would have me, once I return from my visit back home. You would have space for me still." You spoke.

Now, you do not truly have anything else to do with Stark Industries or with the Avengers Compound. You found your place here, it would be different, but the more you spend your time here without the constant panic that came with working for Tony, the more you felt this was the place for you. Where you knew you would grow in a way that never truly happened under Tony.

"Perfect. I'll have everything ready once this is dealt with." She winked finally wearing the headpiece.

You tugged unto the mask to ensure that the seal was perfect before allowing her to make her way to the waters. The twelve by twelve machine was small compared to what you would usually make for this kinds of excavations, but a more compact device would be better for easier access should the need arise.

"The machine will follow you into the specific tunnel and all you have to do is lift it to the specific area it needs to make the fixes and it will do the rest." You repeated again.

"Got it, Doctor."

You smiled watching as the Princess has nodded towards the King that had now dove towards the waters, followed by his generals and the warriors that came before him.

"Good Luck, Princess." You hoped before finally turning the machine on through the laptop.

Backing away, you had watched Shuri hold onto the machine before heading down into the waters. You were quick to turn the camera and watched firsthand the waters as she swam deeper. You had ignored the familiar tightening on your chest at the sight of the waters as she went deeper. Counting ten backwards, you watched and fine-tuned the machine and checking the vitals as they gotten deeper in.

'You alright, Doctor?' Shuri had inquired through the communication line.

"As alright as I could be." You reassured not wanting her to worry about you at the moment but the task at hand.

You barely watched as the crystal waters slowly darken as they gotten into the depths of the waters. You found your hands were visibly shaken and even the Queen herself has taken notice, inquiring if you would want any assistance. You reassured her you were fine and instead inquired Shuri if they were close to the damages.

'Right in the center of it.'

Through the screen, you frowned realizing the severity of the damages that neither you nor Shuri truly realized until seeing it firsthand yourselves.

"Nudge the machine into the damages and I'll do the rest." You requested and through her camera, you had watched the device slowly make its way to the crevice of the damages and begin to work.

Sitting on the sandy shores, you placed the laptop on your thighs as you began to work. Maneuvering the machine as you watched the arms extend out from either sides, beginning to work it's magic on the repairs.

'You never cease to amaze me, Doctor.' Shuri began, idly watching you hard at work with the repairs.

You have learned early on that the pathway was made of corals and stone and you did you best to assure it stayed the same still. It was like playing puzzle for you now at this point, seeing what rock or coral would fit without damaging the paths further. With further help from the Talokanil Warriors you were able to ensure a perfect seal just within an hour and a half.

"Princess, please make sure everyone is out of the way when I spray the seal onto the rocks." You requested.

You heard a few orders being thrown out by Attuma and Namora before you were given the go-signal to begin the seal. A nozzle had extended out from the machine and you had watched the spurt of the sand mixture into the new repairs.

“What is that?” It was Queen Ramonda that had first made the inquiry.

“It’s a kind of sand and cement mixture. It hardens immediately when in contact with rocks, and is nearly indestructible. The only catch is it crumbles on dry land.” You explained.

Just like you’ve expected, you watched the mixture slowly solidify before your very eyes and you had even asked Attuma to test the integrity of the new structure. Watching him strike the walls with his spear only for his spear to bend in the process.

‘Good job, Doctor.’

“I had my doubts about this, bringing you along into this mess. But it seems you and my daughter have proven me wrong.” Queen Ramonda spoke looking down at you, a faint smile playing on her face now.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Now, please tell my daughter to come back to the surface.” She ordered, somewhat playfully now.

“You heard your mother, Princess.”

You could faintly hear Shuri talking amongst the people in Talokan. Each and every single one of them now coming to test the new path you had helped rebuilding. You smiled knowing it would take a while before she would come out to the surface, only now given the opportunity to return after everything that had happened between Wakanda and Talokan.

You once again checked the vital of both the machine and Shuri’s suit and you have noticed everything was still in stable condition. Queen Ramonda eventually allowed Shuri to explore around, with her seeing the beauty of Talokan through the screen, even she was amazed by the sheer beauty of the kingdom and the alarming number of people that lived under the depths of the water—more people that even you could have ever imagined.

‘The offer still stands, Doctor. You will learn so much from Talokan.’

A blush had lingered on your cheeks at the voice of the King through the communications. You now refused to meet the Queen’s eyes, fearing she might think you were conspiring against her and her people.

“I simply can’t.” You answered instead not wanting to linger so much into the topic.

But the tour was interrupted by the sound of something crashing and your eyes lingered right back to the machine fearing it had malfunctions, but seeing the vitals still normal, your next instinct was to check Shuri and the sight of utter chaos among Talokan as several beast had come to attack the Talokanil warriors was the last thing you would have expected to see.

“Shuri get out now!” You screamed and the utter chaos had the Dora Milaje up to attention, slipping on the wetsuits and diving down without hesitation to save the Princess.

You tried to reprogram the machine to assist Shuri in navigating out of the passage but you cursed at the sight of one of the beast go straight for Shuri and the machine. You rapidly continued on typing hoping to use the locator in hopes of seeing them.

“What is happening?”

Your mind was moving faster than your own fingers did and for some God damn reason, you found yourself throwing the laptop onto the flood and immediately suiting yourself into the last remaining wetsuit available. Your mind and body working in sync as you made the last adjustments—ignoring the panicked words of the people around you before you found yourself allowing the adrenaline to take over your body as you dived head first under the water.

~

They were being attacked. The last thing K'uk'ulkan would have ever believed to happen was an armored whale shark begin their attack on his people. His attention was torn between the bloodshed that was happening before him and the sight of now unconscious Princess Shuri among the chaos of it all.

He could not make his way towards her in time as numerous unknown assailants had now slipped out of the beast. Armed in linen robes and Obsidian they were no warriors of Talokan. Weapons ranged from mace and axes, to bow and arrows and even boomerangs. This were no people of his and that simply scared him the most—for he truly did not know if there were people like them in this world.

All of the warriors had stark white hair and eyes glowing bluer than the clear water. They were not equipped with any form of breathers Talokanil uses to breath in the surface. They were simply just like him—but far more dangerous.

Before long, he had watched the Dora Milaje come to defend them in this fight. The water was no obstacle for them, but they truly had one goal that was different from his own—save the Princess, nothing more and nothing less. But even the warriors of Wakanda were not immune to the attacks that came after them.

K'uk'ulkan had found himself battling numerous of the warriors that had now focused on him. His mind panicked, for this was an attack he had once fear would happened. Someone had found them and he was not sure who was truly to blame for it.

Then he saw it, the small glimmer of hope for Wakanda, you. You struggled to swim further down, but you were on a mission and K'uk'ulkan did his best to waver as much of the warriors away from your direction as you made your way to Shuri that has now slowly gained consciousness and only then did he come to realize that the suit that she had on was damaged and water was slowly seeping in.

Without an ounce of hesitation as he continued on with attacking anyone who would come his way, he had watched from his peripherals how you did not hesitate to let Shuri were your head gear and urged her up to safety in the surface. The Dora Milaje retreating now as they had extracted the Princess away from the dangers of the battle.

But now he has something else he needed to worry about. You. You, who even in the face of the death of your life had tried your best to take the machine without any form of breathing gear and how the wide eyes and the sudden grasp onto your throat meant reality was finally slamming through you in your predicament as you opened your mouth and tried to breath in the waters.

“Take her to my cove!” He orders Namora to which she did without an ounce of hesitation and in the panic that laced his voice he realized there was truly something about this woman that he was still uncertain about but it was a kinship that he was not so sure if he truly wanted to address after all was said and done. But for now, all that he could hope was for your safety above everything else.

[iliterallydecepticanteven]

So my vacation went a little sideways because some family decided to do shit without asking me and mess everything up which is pretty on brand for them. So I'm mad but! Here's a quick fun drabble I wrote during my free time.

💜

"Fix this. Now."

Mai Nguyen would consider herself a strong woman with an iron resolve. She'd survived all the bullshit that came with being an Asian woman in a STEM field, especially an engineering one, and came out on top every time.

But here, staring down the leader of the Decepticons, her resolve wavered ever so slightly.

Even more so considering said leader was no longer the massive multi-story form he usually took. No, he was currently inhabiting a prototype android body, and it was at least 30% her fault he was stuck in it.

(The other 70% was absolutely Masterson's fault. She's just the fool who helped with the fuel cells and some welding.)

"Sir, we're doing everything we can, but I'm not sure how quickly we can resolve this problem," she explains. Masterson was sitting beside her, pointedly not making eye contact and staying silent. She'd whack him over the head if she could.

But considering the presence of their boss in the meeting, she knew she probably shouldn't do that.

"As previously explained, this will absolutely be temporary, just until your actual body heals up," Governor Nakamura says from where she sits beside Megatron. "Once you're body is deemed repaired enough, your consciousness will be transfered back. Until then, the Gen 9 prototype will contain you and allow you to function."

"Function?" Megatron snaps, whipping his head around to look at her. "How exactly do you expect me to function in my current state?"

Mai and Masterson flinch back but Nakamura doesn't even blink. "You can still communicate with your officers. Paperwork and the like will be transfered to smaller devices. And should battles occur, we can link your neurological system to a similar aircraft for you to utilize."

Megatron glares at her for a moment. The eyes of the Gen 9 were the only inhuman part of the prototypes, with black sclera and pupils any color the user desired. Which in this case, were ruby red. The rest of him was incredibly human, with smooth skin the color of polished mahogany stretched over synthetic muscles and metal joints and even fuel lines that popped like veins when flexed. His hair, black as onyx and brushed back with streaks of gray along his temple, was synthetic but looked like it came out of a shampoo commercial. High cheekbones and a strong jaw accompanied sharp eyes and prominent nose.

He was, like all Gen 9s, drop dead gorgeous. And incredibly pissed.

Mai could sympathize with him, kinda. Sure she'd never been yanked out of her body and into a different one, but she could imagine how rough it would be to go down in battle, bleeding out and barely alive, passing out from blood loss, and waking up in a whole new vessel much smaller than the one she's used to. Kinda.

"And how long will repairs on my body take?" Megatron asks, glaring now at Masterson.

"Medical teams estimate about three days," Nakamura answers calmly, getting him to look over at her again. "For obvious reasons, all repairs will be done by Cybertronians only."

Megatron's jaw flexes but he doesn't protest. Instead he simply nods. "Very well." He stands, towering over them all at a prominent six foot five. "Do not think for a moment that this issue is resolved. However, more pressing matters are at play. I must meet with my officers regarding this change."

Nakamura nods. "Of course. Let me--"

Before she can stand and say anything else, he's leaving, opening the door and disappearing into the hall. The governor sighs heavily as Mai and Masterson watch him go.

"Does he, uh, does he know the way?" Masterson asks.

"No, no he doesn't," Nakamura replies, standing and quickly following after him.

[i-am-focused]

You're kidding me right?

Din Djarin x gn(ish) afab reader

Summary: You're a mechanic on Naboo, and you see the Razor crest crash. The Mandalorian reluctantly lets you help him repair the ship but you're interrupted when some weird ass pollen has you both very ... affected.

Warnings: Fem pet names but non specific pronouns only, smut, sex pollen, Dubcon kinda, Helmet comes off but you don't see his face, p in v penetration, begging, din is a little submissive, he's not experienced but a quick learner, pretty much everything is in here tbh

Word count - 8.9k (jeez this got away from me)

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

It was a warm afternoon, as was the norm on Naboo. Business was slow, all of your usual customers either found someone else to do their repairs or you’re just so good at your job they don’t need any. So here you found yourself, wandering through the trees a few miles from your ranch. Trying to stick to the overgrown and winding trail through the forest but as you continue it seems to be less and less defined, splitting off into many smaller and narrower trails where people have given up on it. You know you aren’t too far from the coast, if you keep your current pace you could probably spend around a few hours relaxing in the sand by the lake before it gets too late for you to head back, it’s been a long time since you had any time to yourself. 

You continued your hike through the roots that almost seemed like they were intentionally trying to trip you, but as you paused for a moment, taking a sip from your canteen, you saw a ship heading towards you. Well, kind of a ship. It looked like it was falling apart, the engines in flames as it rapidly lost altitude before disappearing behind the trees. You estimate two miles ahead of you. Whatever, might as well check it out. It’s on the way to the coast anyway. 

As you approach the crash site the air is smokey, there were some scattered parts around the clearing where the ship had crashed. Walking up to the wreckage quietly, you wonder if there were any survivors. Sure it wasn’t the worst crash you’d seen but it was still bad, you almost found yourself backing away because you knew it would be hell to fix even if there was someone remaining to help. Might as well get a new ship at this point. Peering through one of the several holes in the ship’s hull, you can't see much except shrapnel and smoke. Seeing no signs of life you shrug, turning around to return to the trail. There’s still time to go to the coast- 

“Hold it,”

You hear a voice from behind you, weirdly mechanical but very clearly living. You freeze where you are, raising your hands up to your head slowly. “Drop the bag and turn around slow,”

You follow the instructions, you’ve dealt with plenty of rough customers considering that that’s your primary base of clients. Turning around you’re greeted with a taller man, head to toe covered in beskar armor, a Mandalorian. You’d only seen a couple Mandalorians before, seeking smaller repairs to weapons or smaller ships. Now facing him he had his blaster raised to your head, not a great sign, but in his other arm there was a small bundle…a… child? You hadn’t seen any mandalorian children before, this child wasn’t wearing any armor and was not of any species known to you. As you stared at the bundle, a voice from behind the visor recaptured your attention, “Hey, don’t look at him, look at me.”

He continued, “I could kill you right now. You with a group? Why are you out here?”

You stumbled over your words “I, um, I was just going to the beach. I’m a mechanic, ‘live a little bit away from here and I saw your ship go down. It’s just me.” 

The helmet didn’t move, the blaster still steadily aimed at your head. You swallowed, the fear slowly building in your chest. Keeping your hands raised, you tilted your head towards the bag on the ground next to you, “Listen, you can check the bag and me,” Giving him your name and a brief introduction you continue, “I don't have any weapons other than a knife in the bag but you’re making me wish I did, I am a mechanic, there are tools and stuff in there. And not to be presumptuous but you seem like you might some help.”

You glanced over toward the burning ship. Praying that the very shiny and intimidating man didn’t shoot you where you stood, you mustered up your best friendly-and-harmless smile. Silence fell over the clearing for a moment before he started to step towards you. Walking up to you he said “I’m checking you and your bag for weapons. If you’re lying, you’re dead.”

He knelt down, setting the child down next to him before rummaging through your bag, pulling out tools and emergency clothes. You were somewhat embarrassed when he pulled out your underwear and other spare clothes and quickly tossed it to the side before he stood up in front of you. He began to pat you down, checking for holsters or anything you may have hidden on your person, this was also awkward but hey, if it stopped you from getting killed in the middle of nowhere? No complaints. 

“Am I a clean officer?” You said jokingly, not really knowing if you were on good enough footing to be making jokes. He grunted, “Yeah, you’re fine to continue on your way or do whatever.”

You were shocked, I mean was he stupid? Obviously you were to be trusted because your business was primarily from less than New Republic approved sources, but he didn’t know that. Your smart mouth always got the best of you. “Seriously? What if I told the New Republic you were here? Or I was just completely lying and I am actually part of a group?” 

The visor snapped towards you, Dank Ferrik, now you were the stupid one. Were you trying to get killed? I mean seriously, what is going through your head where- “I’m sorry?”

The Mandalorian slowly steps toward you, your heart drops. This is it. This is where you die. All for a witty comment. His helmet has to be less than a foot from your face as you try and quickly spain away your stupid and untimely comments, “I didn’t mean- ah yikes- I-”

His voice seems lower, it's almost a whisper, “Let me just say this once. I don’t know if you’re trying to be funny or if you’re just plain stupid, but if you ever say a word about me or more importantly-” he tilts the helmet towards the small creature below you, “Him, then I promise you, you won’t even get the chance to start running.”

The Mandalorian turns back towards the child simply saying “Go.” before kneeling down and inspecting the damage to the ship

Whoops, touched a nerve there. He was close enough for you to smell the woody scent of his soap and feel the heat off his body. How about you make it worse because you just cannot stop yourself? You let out a small chuckle. This is probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. “You’re kidding me right?”

You can’t help but let a smile creep onto your face as the Mandalorian once again turns slowly towards you. You were playing games with life and death and he was truly and deeply baffled. “Do I need to repeat myself? Are you seriously smiling right now?”

“No, no, I heard you. I’m just wondering how you can possibly think you’re getting this thing back off the ground.” You pause briefly, he’s a statue in front of you. He probably thinks you’re crazy, and you probably are. “I mean I’m sure you know the ship, but seriously, a Razor Crest? It's been quite a while since those went up in the sky, ‘had to come down at some point. Surprised it made it this long.”

“I’ll be fine.”

This time you can’t help but laugh. “Listen, this ship is not gonna be up in the air anytime soon, especially if you just let the only mechanic for miles around just walk away and have a nice day at the beach.”

This time you don't get a response. He begins walking around the ship, extinguishing the fires before boarding the ship to get a very scorched looking toolkit. He acts like you’re invisible, setting up a small ladder next to one of the engines. You stand there watching as he starts to shed some of his layers, the cape that you think is just a little dramatic, as well as the jetpack that was hidden underneath it. Then you stand even more baffled as he removed his pauldrons and chest piece, setting it aside. Your jaw has probably met the ground by the time you get a handle on yourself, could Mandalorians even do that? I thought they never removed their armor.

“You like to stare at strangers that are already tempted to shoot you?” 

Choking a little bit on your breath you cough, not quite sure of how to respond so you decide to avoid the question. “You know, I’m not expensive,” Maker that did not come out how you wanted it to, “I mean, I can help you fix the ship. I don’t have any other customers right now and I’d maybe even give a discount if you keep up this friendly demeanor you have going on”

You gesture toward the Mandalorian, you can’t see his face but you doubt he is that enthused by your sarcasm. This is then confirmed by no more than grumbles and muttering from under the helmet as he turns back to the engine. You take a moment, continuing to stare at him for a minute, he’s… kind of handsome. I mean you can’t be sure because obviously his face is covered- but he's definitely attractive. Your train of thought is cut short when he looks back down at you again, annoyance radiating from him. 

“I have a mechanic, on Tatooine, she can-” 

You cut him off, “Well unless you have a secret ship I don’t know about…” You squint and pretend to peer around, “Yeah no, I don’t see one, I also don’t see how a mechanic on Tatooine has any way of helping you with your ship crashing on Naboo.”

With that statement he ignores you entirely. Maybe he has noise canceling in that helmet. Because if he could hear anything you said, he certainly wasn’t letting it show. You look at the sky. Eh, you can go to the beach anytime, but you could potentially have a new customer here if you play your cards right. So you play the long game. Starting off you just get comfortable amongst the wreckage whipping out a small tablet from your bag and pretending to do work, clicking buttons and tapping around for about half an hour before you decide it's time to move on to other tactics. Next you try walking up to the ship, closely examining panels and wires hanging down mangled from the wings and hull, you don’t say anything or even lay a finger on the ship. Only saying a quiet “Hm..” Scrunching up your face looking concerned before moving on to another damaged portion of the ship. 

This served your purposes well, after a few times you started to notice the helmet shift slightly towards you in your periphery as you snooped around. It was also easy for you, you are a mechanic after all. This is what you do for a living, and examining all of the parts of this truly ancient hunk of metal that some call a ship would just end up helping you when you finally made him cave and ask for your expertise. This went on for what had to be at least an hour, the sun had begun to set and darkness started to gather over the clearing. As you had almost made your way in a full 360 around the ship you ended up back next to the Mandalorian. 

You stood quietly behind him as he lay, half under the ship with his legs sticking out next to the tool kit. You heard a deep sigh before he slid out from under the ship and looked up at you, first glancing at the kid who was playing with some scrap metal a few feet away. “Okay. I can’t pay you much, but I can give you a few hundred credits and then I’ll pay you more later.”

“It’ll do.” You replied, a slight smile appearing on your face with your triumph over the stubbornness of your handsome armored guest. 

So you worked, the Mandalorian focused mainly on getting the engines in order while you rewired the inside consoles and welded paneling back together, occasionally stealing glances over to your fellow mechanic as he worked, praying he didn't see you staring underneath his darkened visor. 

*****

Several hours went on, welding, hammering, wiring, and screwing the ship back together piece by piece was no easy task. It definitely would not be completed tonight. He was reluctant but very glad to have your help. Unable to help himself, he occasionally took breaks from doing actual repairs, switching to fake ones so that he could watch you work. Often he wished he could take off the helmet, but there were times like this one when he was glad to have it. He knew you had no idea where his eyes were under the visor so he didn’t look creepy when he glanced over at you. He had noticed you staring, every once and a while. But that happened a lot, ever since the purge it wasn’t so common to see Mandalorians. It was mainly just the covert that survived, at least that he knew of. 

His arms were burning now, holding them up to the engine for the past couple hours had managed to exhaust him. He finally decided to step down from the ladder, Damn, he cursed himself. The kid was outside, still playing in the grass happily making gurgling noises and smiling, it was way past his bedtime. Tilting his head toward you he says, “I think I’m done for the night, gonna need to be in the ship for a little bit. 

You nod back at him, hurriedly packing up your tools before walking out of the ship, there was a strange nervous energy around you that he noticed, probably because he had threatened your life multiple times earlier, he thought to himself. He picked up the kid, carrying him onto the ship and settling him into his small floating cradle. He didn’t take long before he was asleep, the Mandalorian closed the shield on the cradle, taking in the view of the inside of the ship. 

The hull was kind of a mess but most of the paneling on the inside of the hull was repaired, He chuckled, impressed. Stepping up a rung on the ladder up to the cockpit he peered in to see the console, it looked fully rewired, it was by far the cleanest part of the ship. Beneath the helmet he smiled, shaking his head. He stepped down the ladder, taking the time to clear up his belongings that had been scattered about the floor in the crash. 

As he was cleaning his mind wandered. It had been quite a while since I had been able to talk to another person, let alone someone that was… like you. It had been a few years on the run with Grogu now, he shook the thoughts from his head. He didn’t have time for that kind of stuff before, let alone now, with the kid? The Empire chasing him down? No. 

But you were … something. Certainly frustrating, very stubborn, but he knew he wasn’t one to talk. You also happened to be very attractive, he noticed when he first saw you. Your feisty personality had only made him more interested. Damn it, what had happened to controlling his thoughts huh? He cursed himself. Glancing down the ramp to see you sitting a log nearby, determined to start a fire. Were you going to stay?

*****

Finally getting the lighter to catch on the sticks you had arranged in the dirt, you looked up at the ship. The hatch was open, the Mandalorian looming in the doorway, leaning against the wall. As you met his gaze he stepped out, boots landing heavy on the earth as he reached the log and sat down next to you with a sigh. You stared at the flames, avoiding the strange tension that fell between you as you waited for him to say something. 

“You do good work” he admitted, turning to face you. You blushed slightly at the compliment, “Thanks, just doin’ my job.” 

Maker, you hoped that didn’t come out too snarky, but you heard a small chuckle from the modulator in response before you both returned to silence. He shuffled slightly next to you, clearing his throat before he spoke again, “You’ve got some grease on your face.”

“Oh,” you used your shirt in an attempt to scrub your face clean of the grime, allowing some of your midriff to peek from under your shirt. The helmet didn't move away from you, it was a little bit off-putting. You settled back into the decomposing log, moss and fungus eating away at the wood. “It’s still there”

You began to raise your shirt to your face again, before a gloved hand grabbed hold of your arm, “It’s alright, here, let me get it.” 

You stared at him. He took off his gloves and grabbed a rag from his pocket. He reaches out to your face, using one of his hands to cradle your right cheek while he uses the rag to remove the stubborn grease from the side of your nose with his other, being surprisingly gentle with your face. His hand is rough and calloused, your mind blanking, looking into the visor and feeling his skin warm against yours. 

If asked, you couldn’t say how long you stared into the visor or how long he took to clean your face. He probably thinks you’re strange, considering the fact you just stared at him for an indeterminable amount of time. You were zoned out, not even blinking. Of course, you would be wrong, he wasn’t thinking you were weird, he was just praying that you didn’t take notice of the nervous energy enveloping his body. You’re positive your whole face is bright red. He’s so soft. His hands are rough for sure, but he was so delicate with you. “So what brought you to Naboo?”

He broke the silence as he continued to rub your face with the piece of cloth. “Oh um,” you needed to come back to reality, “I’m from here originally, I mean not from out here though. I’m from Theed.”

“Capital city? Seems fancy for you.” He teased, or at least you think he was. It’s kind of difficult to tell with the modulator and the lack of facial expression. The cloth tickles your nose, “Sorry.”

“No you’re fine", you reassure him. It takes everything you have in you to not lean into his hand, he feels so comfortable. “Yeah no, you’re right. That's partially why I left. I mean when the empire was in power, I don't know. I guess it gets difficult to work on illegal ships in the middle of a city swarming with troopers.”

You let out a small laugh before his hands are removed from your face. There is a reluctance to his movements as he settles back into the log , stretching an arm out behind you against the moss, “It’s gone now. That crap sticks, sorry about that.”

“No it's fine, thanks for getting it off me.” You smile, still blushing but hoping he thinks you’re just naturally that pink in the face. You lean back, accidentally leaning into his arm, he doesn't move, so neither do you. He continues the conversation, asking you questions about Naboo and your clients and your job, how you got started as a mechanic, it was strange. He seemed different, not so cold, talkative even. Nothing like the man that had essentially told you he would hunt you down if you ever said a word about his existence. 

*****

You were sweet. Kind for someone that worked with almost exclusively criminals and those who were wanted by the new republic. The tough crowd you ran with almost seemed like it hadn't rubbed off on you whatsoever. He found himself staring again, watching your eyes light up and your lips move as you talked about your life and Naboo. He could watch you talk for hours, it took everything in him to not try and lead you back to the Crest with him for the night. Snap out of it. He couldn’t. He just admired you, only asking the occasional question, nodding in agreement at everything you told him. You talked for what had to be 45 minutes before it started. 

He was definitely infatuated with you, but this was different. He felt very warm, and he wanted you. He started to fidget around, adjusting his seating position to accommodate the growing erection in his pants. He prayed you wouldn't notice, he covered it as best as he could. Then the thoughts came. Flowing through his mind easily he thought about you, about what was under the layers of fabric you wore, and about what he would like to do to you if he could. He resisted at first, but he couldn’t for long before he was lightheaded. Unable to struggle against his desires anymore. 

Even just the fabric of his pants rubbing against him when he moved was overwhelming, he bit his lip, barely resisting the desperate noises attempting to escape his mouth. His vision was hazy, the world around him appeared rosy, you looked perfect. Seeing you- Dank Ferrik- He was taken back to all of the desires he had earlier, on the ship, watching you work. He had to say something. 

*****

The Mandalorian had become fidgety beside you. You wondered if he is feeling the same nearly indescribable heat that you feel. Warmth radiating from your chest and between your thighs. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck and other wetness began to form at your center. You froze yourself in place, doing all in your power to not alert the Mandalorian to the desire enveloping your body. He turned towards you, it had taken him a moment. He had been asking questions whenever you fell silent but in the last 10 minutes there were long pauses, like he was distracted, “Hey.. do you feel strange at all? I feel a little bit warm,”

“Mhm,” You nodded your head, clenching your jaw to restrain yourself before you began to speak, “Yeah I feel really warm actually.”

You looked around, eyes eventually falling on the log behind you, you noticed small floating particles in the air around you now, and the thin coating of a pollen like substance on your skin and clothing, same on the Mandalorian, but he had the helmet. “Do you think this stuff has anything to do with it?” 

Drawing his eye to the pollen he looked closely at it, and then the plants that were producing it. He let out a small wince. “I don't know really- shit,” he took in a small gasp of air, “Sometimes plants, or fungi like these. I mean they- in the past, I’ve seen them produce spores that… have effects.”

“What do you mean… by, um, effects?” you ask, a concerned expression etched across your face. Squeezing your legs together was not helping the feeling go away, and if he didn't already notice your fidgeting he would almost certainly notice your desperate attempt to push the feelings away, which you were not succeeding at. 

“They can act like a very, very, powerful aphrodisiac.” He swallowed, saliva had been pooling on his tongue as he looked at you. “It’s bad. I’ve seen people be out of it for days. I hope that this isn’t what that is, but I'm not confident.”

“Hey, Mando,” Nickname slipping from your lips, you weren’t thinking clearly anymore, “I- I think that's what this is. I mean I don't know how you feel right now but…” 

Lightheaded you were barely holding on, clasping your hands together, away from the warmth of your core. “Yeah, me too.”

“I think we need to separate. As quickly as possible,” That's not what you really wanted, but you were clinging to the last logical thoughts you had. Maker, he was handsome, you could see the muscles in his arms and shoulders through his shirt, how he was pulling the shirt over his hips to conceal what you suspected was very visible there. 

“Agreed” he quickly stood up. “I’m going to go on the ship, I have a cot there”

He turned to leave before he paused, the shirt couldn’t conceal his hardness anymore, and him trying was just drawing more of your attention to it. Your mouth began to water. “I have an extra cot, I don't know- I mean, if you don’t want to stay out here.”

You stood up, simply following his lead up the ramp of the crest. He pointed you left to a narrow cot in the corner of the hull before he nearly scrambled over to the other side of the hull. Shit. No walls. Whatever, you didn’t even care anymore. You nearly tear your pants as you peel them off of your thighs, feeling the wetness between your thighs begin to drip down your legs, you can hear him making quite the commotion as he rips the armor off of his lower half, you see it tossed to the side on the floor barely in view. Then you hear him start, whimpers turning into breathy moans as you can hear him pleasuring himself a mere 10 feet away from you. 

You feel almost like you have no control over your limbs as you reach down to your own warm center, the slickness soaking your fingers as you begin to rub circles around your clit starting slow, losing control as you hear the Mandalorian’s moans become deep and raspy, you move faster. Unable to keep yourself from imagining how well he would fill you, thinking about how desperate he must be, the thought of helping him towards his release fills your mind as you slide your hand down pushing your fingers into the void you feel inside of you. As you begin to pull the pleasure out of yourself your quieter, breathier moans gain volume and desperation as you get closer and closer. 

This increase in your volume clearly has an effect on the Mandalorian, you can hear the slapping of his skin as his groans become almost pained, like he is begging for his release, then you hear him slow down, the moans coming from his side of the hull quieting, devolving into low growls after he reaches his climax. His sounds send you over the edge, you feel warmth overwhelming your body, pulsing waves radiating throughout, you let out a long satisfied groan before the hull is filled with an exhausted silence. 

This exhaustion remains only for a few minutes before you feel the urge creep up inside of you once again. You're tempted to make your way over to him as you hear his breath begin to pick up slowly as he begins to feel the same second wave. Your head feels light as you imagine the feel of his skin on your’s and the taste of his cock leaking on your tongue. You can't handle it. Legs shaking you rise from your cot, quietly making your way over to the opposite side of the hull, you near the edge of the slightly wider cot that he rests on. 

You step out in front of his cot, unbuttoning your shirt to free your chest, the heat is overwhelming, beads of sweat on your skin making your shirt stick to your breasts as you strip it off. The Mandalorian just freezes, an inability to tell where his gaze rests on your body only brings more warmth to your face. You kneel down onto the edge of the cot, you can see almost all of him right now, he’s so exposed, vulnerable to your touch. He's… gorgeous. Golden skin fully exposed, you watch his chest rise and fall as you look at him. A trail of hair leading down his stomach straight to-

You set your eyes on his thick girth. Your mouth begins to water, you can see beads of precum leaking from its head. Reaching out you stroke his thigh, he twitches under your hand, letting out a quiet and needy sound as you move your hand closer to his length. 

“Do you want me to help you?” you ask boldly, waiting intently for a nod from the helmet. 

“I-yes, please, yes.” he gives in to his temptation, taking a firm grip on your arm as you grasp him tightly and begin to stroke him up and down. His head tilts back letting a deep groan escape the helmet, the modulator making it even more gravelly. He's already slick with the release of his previous orgasm, he glides through your hands easily, his sounds become broken and pleading as you move your hand faster around him, you hear broken moans trying to form your name. Honestly you’re surprised he remembered it, but you’re glad. You like hearing your name roll over his tongue. 

Lowering your head you run your tongue along the bottom of the head, catching him off guard, making him thrust upwards into your mouth as you come down on him. You feel his hand release its tight grip on your arm as it moves to your hair gripping it tightly to keep you in place as he bucks his hips up into your mouth. He ignores your gag when he pushes a little too far. 

“Fuck- yes,” His breath becomes more and more labored with each thrust until he slows, allowing himself to burst onto your tastebuds. He tastes delicious, you stay locked onto his length until he stops his small jerks upwards. You lift off of him, gulping down the warm substance before moving up the cot. Positioning your hips over his cock as he lays back, panting, staring up at you with longing, still hard as though nothing at all had transpired. 

He grips your hips stopping you before you sink down onto him, behind the visor you can’t tell what’s going through his head, his breath tells you he’s desperate for more but his voice, deep and modulated, sounds almost hesitant or anxious, “I don’t have much… experience”

He stumbles over his words hesitantly as he lowers your hips onto his, his length sliding up against your aching heat instead of entering it. You let out a small groan as it moves against you, “Do you want me to stop?” 

He pulls your face closer to his helmet, “No- Kriff- please no.” he replies, unable to stop himself from grinding into you as he struggles to get his words out. “I just- Fuck- want to hear you say my n-name” 

He says breathlessly, the aching in your stomach hurts with how much you need him inside of you,”It’s Din- that’s my name- Fuck, cyarika” 

Running his hands through your hair and down your back, he encourages your movements. You sit yourself up with your hands on his chest, lowering yourself onto him.

“Sweet girl..” he breaths. You let out a whine as he sinks into you, sliding gently deeper as he stretches you around him. As soon as you reach his base he begins to thrust into you, ignoring the almost pained moans you let escape as he fucks roughly upwards, barely giving you time to adjust to his girth, he was unbelievably thick. Just the right length to hit that spot inside of you, the thrusts sting so good as they change from slight pain into pure ecstacy.

“Din- Maker- you’re so fucking big,” You feel a pressure building inside of you, feeling like you could already cum before he even reaches down to find your clit. He’s a fast learner and finds it fairly quickly, likely due to the moan you let loose when his fingers brush up against it. “Yes-“ 

He’s good. Ridiculously good. You’re going to cum. The combination of his deep and needy thrusts and his fingers rubbing fast circles around your clit is too much. His modulated moaning graces your ears as he wraps his arms around you pulling you to his chest. “Din, Din, Din, Din- Fuckkk“. 

You can feel his heartbeat race underneath his skin and his chest rise and fall as you both close in on your peak. You kiss him up his chest and collarbone and settling on his neck. He can’t think, overwhelmed by you clinging tightly around him, dripping and pooling at the base of his hard cock, his pace pushing you over the cliff of your orgasm. Your lips on his throat drive him over the edge. His thrusts quicken as he chokes on your name, only able to gasp for air he mumbles between groans as he pumps into you. Your spasming heat choking his throbbing cock as he fills you with his heat, still thrusting into you as he comes down from the high. Fucking his load deeper inside of you.

He gasps for air, panting and running his hands over the curves of your body as you melt into each other. His breath slows, relaxing as you rest on top of him. He whispers in your ear, “This is so perfect, you’re fucking perfect. Thank you, you- you made me feel so good,”

 Even with the modulator his voice sounds warm and fluid. Neither of you lasted more than 5 minutes, not that it mattered considering whatever aphrodisiac had found its way into your systems seemed to never end. You know it’s not over. You lie there on top of him for a while, your head nestled into the crook of his neck, listening to his heartbeat, he keeps whispering to you, but it changes. It goes from sweet compliments to a lower, raspier tone to his voice. “I’ve been wanting you all day, thinking about all the things I wanted to do to you, I know you have too, mesh'la.” 

You hadn’t intended to, but you’re a terrible liar and it probably seemed like you had been with all of the glances and smiles and blushing. He started to sit up, laying you down on your back on the mattress. He, reluctantly, pulls out. Watching as his cum begins to leak out of you. He pauses for a minute, before saying “Stay there.”

Standing up, he moves over to the wall across from the cot and presses a button, the hull goes dark, all you can see is pitch black surrounding you before you hear footsteps returning to the bed. You feel him take a seat again on the bed next to you, soon after there is a heavy clunk of metal against the floor. Did he take off his helmet? Your heartbeat quickens.

As he stretches out on the narrow mattress you take your queue to once again straddle him, you’re about to reach down and put him back inside you when you feel his palm against your back encouraging you to move upwards towards his head. Eventually he grabs your thighs, directing you to your new seat, directly over his mouth. “Let's get you cleaned up first” 

He kisses the inside of your thighs as he moves upward toward your burning center, you let out a gasp as you feel his lips and tongue against your skin. You can feel the graze of stubble against your thighs, his curved nose, his soft lips warm against you, you start to groan as he gets closer. There’s a pause, broken by his lips kissing over your folds before that long anticipated tongue licks up the full length of your slit. Your breathy moans fill the hull as he moves slowly, teasing you, waiting for you to beg him for more. You gladly oblige, taking hold of his hair and giving it a slight pull, you plead “Din, please- please. I need more” 

Only then does he indulge you, parting your folds and honing in on your clit, licking around it in circles before finally sucking it with his soft, wet lips. He loves the way you taste, he especially likes the taste of him inside you. The pleasure of his mouth on your pussy bringing more of your wetness to mix with his cum, he’s addicted to it. He never imagined this would be the reason he would take off his helmet. But he’s thought about this loophole for a while, and when he first saw you, dripping wet and begging for him, he knew he was going to have to take advantage of it. He was anxious that he wouldn’t be able to make you feel as good as he wanted you to feel, but it felt so natural to have you in his mouth, your sounds telling him when he was doing something well made him desperate for you to cum so he could thrust back into you again. 

“I’m getting close, you’re- Shit- you’re doing so good” That was too much, he couldn’t stop himself anymore. Removing his hand currently wrapped around your left thigh he began to stroke himself, he tried to go slow but couldn’t resist your praise. He was so sensitive, the pollen had made it easy for him to continue even after he came multiple times, but he felt like static, all he could feel was pleasure as he massaged his hand around his thick length, lapping up the taste of you as he grunted between your legs.

Fuck. He’s too much, too good, too fast. All you can think about is how he wraps his lips around your clit, flicking it with his tongue as you hear him moan into you. You were nearly screaming his name, it felt out of your control as he kept edging you up to the summit of your arousal. It was torturous, the way he sucked your clit before removing himself completely where the only sensation was his hot breath below you. Rinse and repeat. But it felt so good. It felt like he was analyzing your flavor with his tongue the way he devoured you. 

He was building you again, you prepared yourself for his pull away, for your pleasure to be cut short. But he didn’t stop, he held on. A rhythm of licking, fluttering, and sucking you that was more than either of you knew what to do with. You pulled his hair, releasing a growl like moan from him as you couldn’t keep yourself from bucking your hips on his face as he stimulated you. A shaky and depraved sound escaped your lips as you came. Your thighs clenched around his head and you gave a second quick tug on his hair, both of which evoked deep groans of satisfaction from him as he drank in your orgasm. Heat flushed your body until you couldn’t tell where you ended and his mouth began. Sweat coated your chest as you panted, he continued to savor you with his tongue. 

Yet another reason he was grateful for you straddling his face, was because it muffled all of the embarrassingly loud and desperate sounds he was making while he was getting himself off on your undoing. When he felt you clench down on his face it was over for him. He felt his hot release splatter onto his stomach and drip down his fingers as the only thoughts running through his mind were about how tight you squeezed around him when he was buried inside of you. The frantic jerks through his fist slowed as the aftershocks gripped his body. Letting go of himself he concentrated on you, despite your hitching breath every time he touched you clit. 

He seemed to ignore your arching back and trembling thighs as you ran your fingers through his hair, unable to form words as you lost any remaining composure. Reaching behind, you grabbed hold of him, following the thickness of his shaft up to the tip, where you focused your attention. This made him cease contact with you entirely. Trying to catch his breath, his gasps just turned into whimpers as they met the air. Long drawn out expletives as he twitched under your hand. 

His words were broken, cut off with whimpers and moans as you touched him where you knew it would feel the best, or the worst, depending on your perspective. But you got the gist of what he was trying to say, “Pl-lease, t-t-t-“ “C-Can’t t-take” 

He was begging you. Melting completely, moldable to your will. Seeing him like this was different, you were more turned on now than you had ever been. Watching his hips writhe beneath your grasp…He wanted you so badly. 

Reaching down he ripped your hand away from him before he could begin to spill himself once again. Still panting in an attempt to recover from the stimulation, he moved you off of his face and laid you down on the mattress so that he was leaning over you. The warmth exuding from his body felt like a heat lamp, the air between you just felt like a continuation of his skin. Distracted by the tension you jolted when he began to slide his cock up and down your folds. His attempt at hiding his soft and breathy whimpers as he rubbed himself against you was ultimately a failure. You desperately wanted to see his face, his jaw clenched around nothing just trying to hold out for you. You couldn't help yourself. You took hold of him and shoved him back inside of you. 

He was so thick, the dripping warmth coating your walls as you stretched to accommodate him. It felt like you were whole with him inside of you. He moved slowly, trying so hard not to cum again so soon, you squeezed him in just the right way, he was sloppy in the way he fucked you, his rhythm slowing down and speeding up randomly, pulling too far out and having to reenter. 

You surprised yourself when you reached your hand up to his throat, giving it a light squeeze he let out a labored moan. “Fuck me” 

You looked up at where you guessed his face was, it almost sounded like a challenge exiting your lips. He listened. His thrusts became consistent, targeted, a solid rhythm. But along with this came his volume, he was so loud, nearly yelling your name in between his whines, only taking time to lean near your ear and mutter to you while he tried to catch his breath. Your grip on his neck was loose, lazy, only tightening when he slowed down. 

“You’re so good, you’re so fucking good- Oh shit- Fuck-, so sweet- Maker, I love the taste of you on my lips, you’re so soft for me. I want to cum for you so bad- Please- Oh Maker- PLEASE” 

It hurts how ready he is to cum, he’s been ready for 5 minutes. He had some experience, but as he had told you, not much. Certainly nothing like this. He actually can’t tell if he already started to cum or not. He’s blind, he can only focus on the heat and the wetness between your legs. He’s completely lost control of his mouth. Saying anything that came to his mind, just trying to keep his throbbing, aching cock from stopping before you cum. No, no no no no no no- his eyes nearly rolled back in his head, pulling himself out of you before painting your chest with his cum as he milked every last drop he had from his cock. Shit.

Honestly, you knew how hard he was fighting to hold on, the way he had fucked you right then was so relentless, that Din finishing before you were able to get there was something that was difficult to be bothered by. It felt so good. Him pounding you into the mattress, it had actually taken you a second to realize you hadn’t finished. But it was evident that Din was disappointed, the silence, you could almost imagine his furrowed brow trying to figure out what comes next. So you guided him, grabbing one of his hands. You led him down your torso and between your thighs, trusting him to know what to do next. 

Putting his weight on his remaining arm and his knees, he caressed your heat, wetness letting him glide over your lips. Your breath quickened as he began to work you open with two fingers, feeling them enter deeper inside of you on each thrust, your muscles tensed as he massaged inside of you till he found a spot that made you sink your nails into his arm while he touched you. Crying out you started to roll your hips into his movements, your cries turned into sputtering wails as he began to rub his thumb over your swollen clit. 

“Din y-yes” you rasped, “just like that- Fuck”

 You sounded so good with his name on your lips, he rewarded you, quickening the rhythm of his pumps. He was merciless, chasing your climax with his hand. This you could tell he was experienced at. The ache between your thighs reaching its precipice, gripping his arm and the sheets you let out a long low cry as you spasmed around his fingers. Going limp under him as you let out a shaking breath. 

Din reached his fingers up to his mouth, licking them clean of your orgasm before stroking the hand up your side, murmuring into the darkness around you, “Good girl…” 

You sensed the warmth he radiated, got closer to your skin before you felt his tongue, drift flat over your chest, gathering the pooling cum in his mouth. He flicked his tongue around your nipples, taking a moment to suck and nip at your flesh making you run your fingers through his hair before tracing you with his tongue up to your throat. He relaxed his weight onto you as he crushed a passionate kiss into your mouth. Parting your lips, his tongue carried his flavor into your mouth, the fluid he had collected from your breasts now finding a home in your mouth. His sloppy kisses pausing long enough for him to take a breath and for you to swallow his premature orgasm before his lips closed back onto yours. 

*****

His lips against yours, obsessed with the way you feel against him. His hair being pulled between your fingers drives him wild as he crushes you into his body. The world never felt so perfect to him and he didn’t know how he could ever feel this good again. His thoughts were so light in his head and the weight on him for the last couple years with the kid seemed to temporarily dissipate. Kriff. He wants to stay like this forever. He stayed, tasting your mouth with his tongue, pulling lightly at you with his teeth, until he felt you pull his hips into yours, lightly rubbing against him. 

It ignited him once again, he ached for you as if he hadn’t just spent what had to have been an hour devouring your body in any way that he could, exploring every dip and curve of your form, yet he still couldn’t be satisfied. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He had been satisfied, several times now, but his brain was fuzzy and light, and when you rubbed against him he could only crave more. 

“Shit- I want you Din.” Your words were almost painful, he ground his hips against yours. Moving his lips down your neck leaving marks on your flesh that would be open for view in any of your usual clothing. His humming turned into low growling as sliding against you became easier, slickness leaking from him. Arching his back he felt you take hold of him. He held his breath as you slid him downwards, directing him into you. Please yes- He gasped as he slid into you. 

Slow, gentle, yes- he took you delicately, thrusting in and out so that he knew you would feel every bit of him as he moved inside of you. He moaned softly into your ear matching the pace of his movements. You felt so good. So tight against his length. He loved the feeling as you ran your nails over his back, he knew you wanted more, but he couldn’t help himself. He continued to pace his movement selfishly wanting to savor every pump into you, draw your pleasure out for as long as possible before it crashed.

This went on, his controlled, almost romantic, rhythm. Combined with his continued bruising of your neck he knew you had to hate him for making you wait. He whispered praise in your ears, “Yes, take me like this. You’re so good- so fucking good to me… such a good slut.”

He hadn’t meant to let it slip out of the privacy of his thoughts and onto his tongue, but you didn’t seem to mind, at all. He felt your nails down his spine until they reached his hips, your grip settling around them and nearly forcing him to quicken. Your hands guided him in and out, faster. It you were so wet, soaking him, the push and pull inside you made such a filthy noise. He loved it. Drinking in the sounds of his cock burying itself deep inside of you was enough to make him lose all remaining sense in his mind. Sensation of you around him, brushing of your skin against his, it was impossible to stop himself from fucking pounding you into the cot. 

*****

You had lost your damn mind. He was so thick, stretching you even after he had already been pounding you full of him for Maker knows how long. He was so close to you, you heard every hitch in his breath, every whimper, moan, growl, pleading gasp. He was so talkative. It was like he couldn’t stop himself from spilling his guts while he was inside you. 

“Yeah? You like me calling you that? Mmmm- is it because it's true?” There was jealousy behind his words, but he sounded almost turned on by it. To be fair, it wasn’t not true. You had your fair share of escapades, maybe even with other customers when times were tough. But this… this was nothing like that. Kriff, he was thick. The way he spoke, fuck, you knew he could probably make you cum without laying more than a finger on you. His words alone made you rut your hips up into his. Apparently the pleading sounds exiting your mouth were not answer enough to his question.

“Mhm, I bet its true,” he paused, small grunts leaving his mouth, “But you know what else I bet- I’ll fuck you the way you need it, sweet girl…”

A smile forms across your face as he says it. “If you had crashed here sooner I wouldn’t have needed all those other co-“

He cuts you off, slamming into you harder than he had the whole night, he wraps a hand around your throat leaning in close so you can feel his breath against your neck, “Maybe you should come with me, I’ll keep you s- shit- satisfied, you would like that right? To be right there when I get back with a b-bounty,”

“So I could fuck you down into this cot every night.” He said it surprisingly smoothly for how he was handling you, the smoothness of his voice contrasting with the roughness of how he thrusted into you and the jealousy he knew was unreasonable. Was he serious? Fuck. Neither of you are in your right minds. Loosening his grip on your throat the small whimpers that escape your lips fuel him to cause more of them. Dragging his tongue along your chest his lips close around a nipple as his hand winds its way down to your clit “Fuck- Din- I want you,” 

Your senses have been overloaded almost since the start, pleasure so constant it was difficult to distinguish when you came for him. His name tasted so sweet on your lips. Your orgasm snuck up quickly, his hips curving into you. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling his weight onto you so that his face was buried against yours and his skin clung onto you. Rolling your hips into him and arching your back you clenched around him vision blurry as the aftershocks made your muscles squeeze him inside you. You let out a long low moan, his name finding its way out of your throat until you could barely speak. He dissolved into you, spilling himself inside you again before falling limp on top of you with a guttural groan into your neck. 

His heart rate slowed against your chest as his head tucked away into the crook of your neck. His breath slowed from whimpers into sighs as you felt him fall asleep in your arms, still twitching inside of you. Your eyelids became heavy, you wondered if he was serious about having you on the Crest with him. I mean you had a job, a thriving business, he had met you mere hours ago. Probably not. Everyone says things when, well, you know. But you were content, his body draped over yours, you stroked your hands along his back, his biceps, as you drifted into unconsciousness. 

AN - This is my first work I've ever written or posted anywhere, I hope you guys liked it, I know its long so if you made it this far i salute you. I'll definitely be posting more stuff on here soon because i have a backlog of work in progress stuff (not just for din) so follow if you liked this one :) also if this seems like its inspired by @no-droids work, that makes sense. Rough day was the first mandalorian fanfic i read!

[triptuckers]

mapping the stars - jim kirk

Request: nope! Pairing:  snw!jim kirk x reader Summary:  you and jim get stranded on a planet and need to kill some time before communications are working again Warnings:  none Word count:  1.1K A/N: there are way too little snw!jim kirk fics on here. luckily I have a type-with-ten-fingers diploma from when I was twelve years old and an incredible amount of WIP ideas. this is (very loosely) based on a sentence I read in the princess and the fangirl by ashley poston. enjoy!

jim wasn't too happy about being sent down to the surface of a planet to check up on some readings. after all, he wasn't really a science officer.

but since enterprise had sustained damage in an unexpected meteor shower, captain pike needed people aboard to help with repairs. so, he assigned jim to accompany a science officer down to the surface of the planet.

and as a science officer, you were happy to go down to the surface to check out some slightly weird readings spock had picked up during scanning the planet. jim thought of all the science officers he could have gone with, at least he was happy it's you.

it was supposed to be a quick trip. get down to the surface, check out spock's readings, make notes of it and analyse it, then head back to enterprise with your findings.

but luck wasn't on your side. the shuttle engine malfunctioned, and you had to make an emergency landing.

though the shuttle wasn't damaged that badly, there was a storm coming in fast on the horizon, and it would hit before you would be able to take off. so you decided to stay on the planet and wait it out.

it's why you're now on your back underneath one of the control panels to fix it.

you've rolled up your sleeves but already there's sweat trickling down the back of your neck. who even decided to put the access panels underneath the control panel at an impossible angle? how was anyone supposed to reach them?

jim had offered to help, but it wouldn't make repairs go faster, so you tasked him with trying to get communications back online. the storm nearby had knocked out part of the communications system.

'I didn't know you could fix an engine, I thought you were a science officer.' comes jim's voice from the other side of the shuttle.

'I am.' you say, lifting the panel to put it back in place.

'science officers don't typically know the insides of a shuttle.'

'science officers who did engineering courses at the academy do.'

you secure the panel in place and slide out from underneath the control panel.

'all done.' you say, walking up to jim. 'try it now.'

jim nods and starts the engine. after two silent seconds that last way too long, the engine comes alive.

'look at that!' says jim, looking over his shoulder and smiling at you.

'and no warning signs or smoke coming from the shuttle.' you say.

'maybe science officers do know something about engineering after all.' says jim.

'told you. did you get communications back up?'

'not yet, the storm's interfering with the signal. how long til it gets here?'

'I estimate around 15 minutes. but it's moving fast so it'll also be gone soon.'

you sit down next to jim to help him with communications. it's nice to have something to do while the storm creeps closer and you can feel your anxiety building up. you know the shuttle can withstand the storm, but you're still uneasy.

luckily jim keeps asking you questions about the shuttle's systems, so you're explaining it to him and soon you forget to worry about the storm. save for the moment when the storm reaches you, when you look outside. but you're quick to turn back to the control panel in front of you.

after figuring out why the storm is interfering with communications, you decide it's best to reboot the entire communications system. it'll be a while, but the storm is almost gone, so waiting will be a little better.

as the storm passes, you leave the shuttle to sit outside and get some fresh air. it's dark outside, but the shuttle has enough power to light the area around it.

you're sitting outside on the ground, your chin in your hand while you use your other hand to map the stars in the sand. it's an old habit you sometimes still come back to.

'mapping the stars?'

you jump a little at jim's voice, looking over your shoulder to find him standing there.

you shrug. 'it's a habit.'

'you see the stars literally every day, why do you need to map them?'

'well I don't necessarily need to map them. I just like to do it.'

'why?'

'it's one of the reasons why I joined starfleet. the main reason, probably.'

jim is silent, so you continue.

'nowadays there's so much light pollution on earth, you can barely see the stars at night. except for places where barely anyone lives. like my childhood home. we have a big patch of land and the nearest village is a long drive away. when I was younger, I used to draw the stars. I believed that because the sky felt so wide, you could fall into it. into an endless stretch of sky and stars and planets. I simply wanted to grow up to be one of those people who could call the stars their home.'

you look up at jim and smile. 'and I did.' you say.

jim has a strange look on his face. it's not a bad one, but you can't quite read it. 'and you did.' he says, smiling.

'I can teach you how to map the stars, if you want. we still got some time to kill before communications are up and running again.'

'tell me where to start.' says jim, sitting next to you.

you use your hand to wipe away your map so jim can start his. you hand him the stick you used and then point up to the stars.

'so, you start with a big star or planet, or a constellation. something you can always find. pick one.' you say.

it takes jim a while to map the stars. mostly because he spends more time looking at you and listening to you than actually mapping the stars - you constantly need to correct his map.

just as communications are working again, jim thinks maybe the stars were his reason for joining starfleet as well. after all, he found everything he could ever want or need in them. a home within the crew, friends, and maybe someone who could become something more. someone who could teach him to look at the stars in a totally different way.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[mariacallous]

After decades of strategic drift and costly acquisition failures, the U.S. Navy is sailing straight into a storm it can’t avoid. Despite the Defense Department’s lip service about China being the “pacing challenge,” decades of deindustrialization and policymakers’ failure to prioritize among services and threats have left the Navy ill-equipped to endure a sustained high-intensity conflict in the Pacific. The United States is unable to keep pace with Chinese shipbuilding and will fall even further behind in the coming years. Where does that leave the U.S. Navy and the most critical U.S. foreign-policy imperative: deterring a war in the Pacific?

As evidenced by the Biden administration’s latest budget request, fiscal constraints are forcing the Navy to cut procurement requests, delay modernization programs, and retire ships early. The Navy’s budget for the 2025 fiscal year calls for decommissioning 19 ships—including three nuclear-powered attack submarines and four guided-missile cruisers—while procuring only six new vessels. The full scope of what military analysts have long warned would be the “Terrible ’20s” is now evident: The expensive upgrading of the U.S. nuclear triad, simultaneous modernization efforts across the services, and the constraint of rising government debt are compelling the Pentagon to make tough choices about what it can and cannot pay for.

Workforce shortages and supply chain issues are also limiting shipbuilding capacity. The defense industrial base is still struggling to recover from post-Cold War budget cuts that dramatically shrank U.S. defense manufacturing. The Navy needs more shipyard capacity, but finding enough qualified workers for the yards remains the biggest barrier to expanding production. The shipbuilding industry is struggling to attract talent, losing out to fast food restaurants that offer better pay and benefits for entry-level employees. At bottom, it is a lack of welders, not widgets, that must be overcome if the U.S. Navy is to grow its fleet.

Instead, the shipbuilding outlook is progressively worsening. An internal review ordered by Navy Secretary Carlos Del Toro in January found that major programs, including submarines and aircraft carriers, face lengthy delays. Even the Constellation-class frigates, touted as a quick adaptation of a proven European design, are delayed by three years.

As defense analyst David Alman outlined in a prize-winning essay for the U.S. Naval Institute’s Proceedings, the United States simply can’t win a warship race with China. The United States effectively gave up on commercial shipbuilding during the Reagan administration in the name of free trade. In the decades that followed, generous state subsidies helped China dominate commercial shipbuilding, and Beijing’s requirement that the sector be dual-use resulted in an industry that can shift to production and ship repair for the military during a conflict, much as U.S. shipyards did during World War II. The U.S. Office of Naval Intelligence estimates that China now has 232 times the shipbuilding capacity of the United States. China built almost half the world’s new ships in 2022, whereas U.S. shipyards produced just 0.13 percent.

Rebuilding the arsenal of democracy that anchored the U.S. victory at sea 80 years ago won’t happen overnight or cheaply—it is a generational project. The 20-year Shipyard Infrastructure Optimization Program aimed at upgrading dry docks, facilities, and equipment will end up costing well over the projected $21 billion. But the plan is only intended to maximize existing U.S. industrial capacity and won’t do much to close the enormous shipbuilding gap with China. That would require a reconstitution program on par with the series of maritime laws passed after World War I, which supported the expansion of an industrial base eventually capable of turning out thousands of carriers, destroyers, submarines, frigates, and cargo ships for the Atlantic and Pacific fleets.

Realizing that U.S. shipyards are stretched thin, policymakers have begun looking abroad. Del Toro encouraged South Korean companies to invest in U.S. naval shipping during a visit this year. Japan will likely begin performing repair and maintenance work on U.S. warships soon; India agreed to do so last year. These initiatives will alleviate the increasing maintenance backlog at U.S. facilities, but it would take a large share of the combined Japanese and South Korean shipyard capacity to fundamentally alter the growing disparity between the U.S. and Chinese fleet size in the Western Pacific.

Ships are not all comparable, of course. U.S. warships are heavier and more capable than China’s, although a dearth of logistics vessels and sealift capability are major concerns. Still, the current era of missile warfare has magnified the importance of fleet size.

Without enough ships to match the Chinese People’s Liberation Army Navy, what can the United States do to maintain conventional deterrence in the Pacific and prevent war? At least two big things: buy missiles and cut back on missions.

First, to manage risk in the short term, the Navy and the other services need to rapidly procure more munitions—focusing on weapons and capabilities, not the platforms that carry them.

The Russia-Ukraine war has military planners thinking less about short, quick conflicts and more about long wars and their vast need for materiel. What holds for depleted stocks of land-based artillery also holds for many of the weapons needed for a war at sea. A much-publicized 2023 wargame conducted by the Center for Strategic and International Studies found that the United States would run out of its entire inventory of the key Long Range Anti-Ship Missile within the first few days of a war over Taiwan. Ramping up the procurement and production of these munitions, as well as Joint Strike Missiles, Standoff Land Attack Missiles, and Harpoon missiles will enable U.S. airpower to help even the odds in the Pacific.

Anti-ship systems operated by the Army and Marines could also complement the other services’ firepower. However, the deployment of ground-based missiles will require allies’ consent. To date, no Asian allies of the United States have volunteered to permanently host U.S. missile batteries, due to political sensitivities and the fact that these countries already have such weapons of their own.

Innovation and creativity could further augment U.S. naval power. Retired U.S. Marine Col. T.X. Hammes, a fellow at the National Defense University, has urged the Navy to convert commercial container ships into warships capable of launching missiles, which would add a tremendous volume of firepower at a bargain price. These “missile merchants” would also require significantly less manpower than traditional warships do, a major consideration given the Navy’s struggle to fill existing billets.

Policymakers also need to make hard choices and limit naval deployments. Though the Navy is shrinking, its missions aren’t. A high operational tempo, manpower shortfalls, and an aging fleet are fueling a readiness crisis that is burning out sailors and ships.

Addressing the readiness crisis requires taking a hard look at which missions are essential for U.S. security and which aren’t. As former Deputy Defense Secretary Robert Work has written, since the fall of the Soviet Union, the Navy has spent 30 years prioritizing global presence over warfighting readiness. The deadly Pacific ship accidents in 2017 involving the USS Fitzgerald and USS John McCain were directly attributable to this unsustainable mania for global presence, according to a Navy review.

The preeminence of presence missions also has more subtle consequences. After 20 years of largely uncontested deployments to the Middle East, the U.S. Navy now has an opponent who shoots back: Yemen’s Houthis. But increased experience in missile and drone defense is outweighed by a deleterious drain on precision munitions. In the conflict with the Houthis, the Navy burned through more Tomahawk land attack missiles in one day than it purchased in all of 2023. Meanwhile, the Houthis can replace all equipment destroyed by U.S. attacks with just two shiploads from Iran, according to Gen. Michael Kurilla, the head of U.S. Central Command.

The costs of maintaining global presence are magnified by the state of Navy recruiting and retention. The service’s recruiting woes are undeniable. The Navy missed all of its recruiting goals in 2023, some by as much as 35 percent. The service projects a shortfall of 6,700 recruits this year, according to its chief personnel officer.

Like the rest of the all-volunteer force, unprecedented recruiting headwinds mean manpower shortages will remain a persistent challenge for the Navy. Absent any change in operational tempo, sailors will work harder, deploy more frequently, and leave the service in greater numbers—ensuring a downward spiral for both manning and readiness.

The United States can’t match the size of China’s fleet in the near or medium term. Deindustrialization, poor procurement choices, and a myopic fixation on the U.S. presence in the Middle East have seen to that. All that said, the U.S. Navy still retains several significant advantages in a potential conflict with China: submarine dominance, overall tonnage, blue-water experience, and support from capable allies. A major increase in joint munitions purchases and an end to the readiness drain of presence deployments to secondary theaters will enhance the Navy’s edge during the potential peak window for a Chinese move on Taiwan over the next decade. The alternative is grim. If conventional deterrence fails, it risks military defeat for the United States or something even more dangerous: nuclear confrontation between the world’s two superpowers.

[sygna11111]

I LOVE FUCKING ELVES.

I FUCKING LOVE ELVES.

Not really Yandere nor Oc... But!- ELVES!!!! Everyone know them and I love them, I'd make out with one at the back of a 711. (Especially, if that mf has very long ears, I'd love to bite their ears🤤.)

And elves are a major race in the world of the story I'm making- So, I'm gonna be talking about them. Specifically, Elven biology!

Keep in mind, that I've deviated from the usual Elf stuff. So yeah!!! :D

Elves are descendants from the angels who copulated with humans. So naturally they have the greatest aptitude with magic than any other race in the entire world! They don't need to have an external source to conjure magic like humans. Since, their own souls have magic. (Exclusive to only elves.(And maybe another race.(But that's a secret for now. Teehee~)))

And it is also because of that that elves have a very long lifespan. Their lifespan has been estimated to be around 800-900 years. Wow! that's long!

Elf metabolism is very different, the source of their energy for vital processes, such as breathing, circulating blood, and repairing cells also come from their souls. When their bodies breakdown the food they eat, it'll go to the soul, replenishing it. Because of this, elves tend to be more slender. (Oh! and Elves are omnivores, so they can just eat about anything.)

That doesn't mean they don't have different body types though! Just like humans, they come in a variety of shapes! some can have broad shoulders or narrow ones, narrow or wide hips, Small or large waists, They can be busty or flat!

Because of their angel heritage, They are naturally tall. Their heights range from 6 feet to 8 feet. The average height being 7'2. (So big...) Rarely is an elf below 6 feet. Unless, you're a half-elf, of course.

Natural hair colors range from a very light brown to a platinum blonde. As for eyes, They can have Red and Gold/Ochre.

In their culture, gender isn't really a known concept. Elves are androgynous down to their biology. Possessing both female and male sexes. Some elves may have features that are perceived as more masculine or feminine to other races. But, elves won't register it as such.

Though in modern times, they have adapted to the concept but, it's just like a trend to them. They don't actually believe in it that much.

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

"Oh, what are you?" Asked an elf.

"I'm a male." Answered the other.

"Really? I'm a male too! We should totally be friends!"

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

"Maybe being male isn't my thing." Sighed an elf.

"Oh! What about Being female?" Suggested the other.

"Hmm. Sure, why not?"

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

"The internet says that I could be a girl." Says an elf to their friend.

"What?" The other raises a brow. "You have more boy-ish vibes to me."

"Nuh-uh, It says right here." The elf pointed to her phone. It showed a quiz that had a title: "Are you a boy or a girl? Find out by taking this quick and simple quiz!". With a smug smile she said. "Girl."

The other shrugs. "Whatever."

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

So that's all for now. I love writing about random stuff from my world.

and most importantly: I FUCKING LOVE ELVES.

[dublinroofingservices11]

Roof Repairs Dublin: Expert Roofing Contractors for Your Home

When it comes to the safety and security of your home, one of the most important elements is the roof. In Dublin, where weather conditions can be unpredictable and harsh, having a well-maintained roof is crucial to protect your home from the elements. Whether you’re dealing with storm damage, leaks, or general wear and tear, finding a reliable roofing contractor in Dublin is key to ensuring your roof stays in top condition.

Why Roof Repairs in Dublin Are Essential The Irish climate can take a toll on roofs over time. Heavy rainfall, strong winds, and occasional snow can cause significant damage, leading to leaks, cracked tiles, and weakened structures. If left unattended, these issues can escalate, resulting in costly repairs or even full roof replacements.

Regular roof repairs in Dublin help homeowners stay ahead of these problems. By addressing minor issues early on, you can prevent further damage and extend the lifespan of your roof. Whether it's a few loose tiles or more extensive structural damage, timely repairs can save you money in the long run.

Common Roof Issues in Dublin Roofs in Dublin often face a range of common problems, including:

Leaking Roofs: This is one of the most common complaints homeowners have. Leaks can occur due to broken or missing tiles, cracks in the roof, or poor-quality installations. These leaks can lead to water damage inside the home if not repaired promptly.

Broken Tiles: With the heavy winds often seen in South Dublin, it's common for roof tiles to crack, break, or even fall off. This not only exposes your home to water damage but can also compromise the structural integrity of your roof.

Storm Damage: Dublin is no stranger to storms, and roofs can suffer major damage from falling branches, debris, and strong winds. Emergency roof repairs in Dublin are often needed after severe weather events.

Clogged Gutters and Downpipes: While not a direct roof issue, clogged gutters can cause water to back up and damage your roof over time. Regular maintenance is necessary to avoid this problem.

Choosing the Right Roofing Contractor in Dublin Finding a trusted roofing contractor in Dublin is essential for ensuring your roof is repaired or replaced to the highest standards. A professional contractor will assess the extent of the damage and provide an honest estimate for the necessary repairs.

When searching for a roofing contractor in Dublin, keep the following in mind:

Experience and Expertise: Look for contractors with a proven track record in the Dublin area. Experienced contractors will understand the specific challenges Dublin’s climate poses and will use materials and techniques designed to withstand these conditions.

Local Reputation: Ask for recommendations from friends, family, or neighbors, or look up online reviews to find a reliable contractor with a positive reputation in South Dublin.

Emergency Services: If you need emergency roof repairs in Dublin, ensure that the contractor offers 24/7 services. Quick response times are critical to preventing further damage when severe weather strikes.

Insurance and Certification: Always hire a fully licensed and insured contractor. This guarantees that the work will meet industry standards and protects you in case of any accidents or issues during the repair process.

Emergency Roof Repairs in Dublin In the event of unexpected roof damage, such as a severe leak or storm-related destruction, immediate action is crucial. Delaying emergency roof repairs in Dublin can result in significant interior damage, leading to costly repairs. A reputable roofing contractor in Dublin will offer quick and efficient emergency services to restore the integrity of your roof and prevent further harm to your home.

Conclusion Roof repairs are a vital aspect of home maintenance, especially in a city like Dublin where weather conditions can be unpredictable. Whether you’re dealing with minor issues or need emergency roof repairs in Dublin, finding the right roofing contractor is essential to ensure the job is done right. Prioritize experience, reliability, and prompt service when selecting a contractor, and your roof will stay in excellent condition for years to come.

Contact Information Dublin Roofing Services Address: 51 Bracken Rd, Sandyford, Dublin, D18 CV48 Phone: 087 3852315 Website: http://dublinroofingservices.ie

[offender42085]

Post 1128

Ah.... the innocence of youth....

William David McDougal, Florida inmate V71523, born 2003, incarceration intake March 2023 at age 19, scheduled for release September 2024

Burglary Unoccupied Structure, Grand Theft, Grand Theft Motor Vehicle, Minor in Possession of a Firearm

In October 2020, the Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Office arrested a 16-year-old in connection with a stolen ATV and UTV, which were later used to drive over rows of soon-to-be strawberries at a local farm.

Deputies responded to an undisclosed residence on Bethlehem Road in Dover in reference to a stolen ATV. They discovered tire tracks at a nearby strawberry field, leading out to the road. The suspect fled south on Bethlehem Road.  A UTV was also reported stolen that same day from a home on Sydney Washer Road in Dover. The suspect later took both the stolen ATV and UTV to vandalize Astin Farms, located at 3610 Holloway Road in Plant City. They drove through rows of what would be strawberries in the coming months, causing approximately $3,000 worth of damage.

Deputies were able to locate the stolen ATV at another residence on Calhoun Road in Plant City. William McDougal, 16, was inside the home and confessed to stealing the vehicles. He also admitted to driving into Astin Farms. Deputies are working leads to identify and locate at least two other suspects at this time.

“Through investigative measures and help from technology, our deputies were able to make a quick arrest on this suspect,” said Sheriff Chad Chronister. “This individual not only stole from innocent victims, but he also put the livelihoods of farmers in jeopardy for his selfish actions. October is a critical month for strawberry farmers who are just putting seeds in the ground for harvest later this year and into next year.” 

This is not McDougal’s first run-in with law enforcement. On June 26, 2020, William McDougal, 16, forced entry into Collier’s Mower Repair, located at 1416 Florida Avenue in Seffner. There, he removed cash from the register and the DVR used for surveillance video, which together, was an estimated value of $390.00.   About a month later, on July 27, at approximately 2:00 a.m. McDougal and an unidentified suspect unlawfully entered the victim’s detached barn door in Dover. They removed three dirt bikes and two chain saws, valued at approximately $4,500.00. The victim caught the duo in the act, and McDougal and his accomplice fled from the scene.    Later that morning, McDougal forced entry into Parkesdale Farms, located at 3914 Tanner Road in Dover. He, along with an unidentified suspect, covered their faces in an effort to conceal their identities with jackets from inside the venue, broke a surveillance camera and stole a John Deere Gator HPX ATV. The vehicle is valued at approximately $4,000.00. Surveillance video of the incident can be viewed here.    Then, during the early morning hours of July 29, McDougal entered a closed barn in Dover. He took three dirt bikes, lawn equipment, tools and a mountain bike. The total value of the items stolen was an estimated $7,850.00.   During the overnight hours of July 29-30, McDougal and an unidentified suspect took a Yamaha YZF R3, valued at $10,000.00 from the victim’s driveway in Seffner. In an effort to start it, the duo damaged the ignition.   McDougal’s last stop on his burglary spree was on July 30, where he dismantled the Seffner property’s surrounding privacy fence and gain access to the victim’s Polaris ATV. Using a screwdriver, McDougal was able to start the ignition and take the estimated $12,000.00 vehicle. He damaged the ignition on that ATV and another, but was unable to start the latter. 

After a number of legal proceedings and other actions, McDougal was formally convicted and sentenced on February 8, 2023, more than 2 years had passed from the initial crimes. 

In Florida, an ATV or MTV is considered for purposes of law to be a "motor vehicle" -- no different than a Ferrari.

4j

[kotylynnemerrill]

Whew wee...

Got some more chapters done and as always I hope y'all like them.

I'm convinced I like torturing myself trying to write these actions sequences...but it is what it is.

Enjoy!

P.s. I'm trying to make sure I'm getting the timeline right on this so if y'all notice a mistake please let me know lol

Your Words I Hold Forever Ch. 5

August 29th, 1968 2:38 pm

"Three Three, this is One Eight. I understand you have a bird inbound at your POS at this time..." A loud pulse of static...

"Bravo One Eight. Bravo One Eight be advised. Resupply helo is inbound at this time," a mechanical voice, barely audible, disrupted the smooth voice of Otis Redding's 'Dock on the Bay', coming from the portable am/fm radio. "Estimated arrival time - five minutes. Over."

Fez hated the sound of the AN/PRC 77 radio they used. High pitched and nothing but static. Not to mention the damn thing was always malfunctioning, the reason he currently found himself with Ethan, boxed in this furnace of a building...better known as T.A.C.A.N. They were finishing up some, albeit minor, but annoying, never ending repairs before it got too late in the day.

Fez reconnected the transceiver and shut the cover over the back of the radio - job done.

For the life of him, he couldn't figure out how Lieutenant Bursh could understand any of it, but he did. The gruff Onyx, Virginia native ran a hand through his sand colored hair with a humph of approval before fiddling with a few knobs on the control panel.

The one thing Fez had been able to catch though - resupply. Something they had desperately needed - weeks ago. Maybe there would be mail too. Hope made a home in Fez's chest at the thought of a letter from Lexi...or perhaps Ash or Kitty. Maybe even Rue.

"About damn time." Bursh muttered, standing up from his chair. Fez and Ethan followed suit and Bursh opened the large metal sliding door with a protesting screech. The trio quickly made their way out of the scorching building only to be hit by the sun and thick humidity.

"Thanks again fellas. Go get a quick break in. Some chow maybe."

"Appreciate that LT." It was too hot to eat, all fez wanted was water.

Bursh turned, yelled at some of the newbies milling around the 'mess hall' to get ready to receive and unload the helo, before making his way down the rough path to the LZ (landing zone).

Fez and Ethan made their own way in the opposite direction to the 'watering hole'. A chorus of rowdy voices and laughter could be heard as they closed in on the portable gazebo.

A young private, a kat they called Nickle, was being hassled about how to properly spell dear - not d.e.e.r.

"Man... she'll know what I mean," he retorted. "Shut the fuck up. You can't spell for shit nohow."

"Whatchu mean, I spelt that shit correctly," another young private, Dale, proudly from Mishawaka, Indiana countered. His attention focused on Fez and Ethan as they walked up to the gazebo. "Shit, E - tell'em."

"It's d.e.a.r, Nickle...but I'm still not convinced this honey you got isn't just a figment of your imagination."

"Ha!" Dale laughed loudly. "Yeah! You been out in this heat too long." He doubled over, slapping his knee as he continued to laugh.

Fez chuckled as he found a seat, followed by Ethan who found a seat next to Nickle.

"Come on now, let the kid have his fun," Fez scolded, not sounding one but serious.

"Hey, white boy!" The foursome turned their heads at the angry shout. Fez recognized the tall black man making his way towards them instantly and frowned slightly. McKay. "Bursh needs guys to help unload the helo and I'm volunteering you two," he said pointing to Dale and Nickle. "Come on assholes."

He didn't exactly like McKay. He could be a real prick sometimes, and all because he had been deployed a few months earlier than the rest of the platoon..shit...barely a month and a half earlier than Ethan and himself.

The kid liked to 'show out', quick to tussle over trivial things. Now Fez wasn't above putting someone in their place when called for but he didn't act a fool.

He felt like putting this fool in his place a few times if he was honest, but as much as he didn't like it there was a hierarchy you had to follow, and you really didn't want to piss off someone like Mckay.

McKay looked over at Fez and Ethan, an annoyance bleeding out through his dark eyes at their presence. Fez locked eyes with him, and he thought the 'tough guy' might say something. But he didn't, he just clapped his hands in a come-on gesture (it made Fez twitch a little), followed by another angry verbalization at Dale and Nickle.

"Man...you know what this feels like - hell," Dale muttered as he and Nickle got up and followed McKay back down the path to the LZ. Fez could see there were a few Humvees now parked a couple of feet away from where the helo would land.

Fez watched as the men walked over to a smaller gazebo situated next to a larger structure similar to the tacan, that served as a small infirmary and storage for the bases supplies. His eyes landed on another tall figure leaning on one of the supports just inside. Nate Jacobs. Another real winner.

He had a bad feeling about him the moment his platoon joined theirs in Ashau valley out of Da Nang, and unfortunately the platoon would be stuck with him for a little while yet. Just peachy.

Fez had dealt with plenty of kats like this, and they were no good. Men like him were the reason he had good instincts. In his line of 'work' you had to be able to pick out the bad seeds and know how to handle them - or else they could ruin your day real quick.

"Real glad I'm not them right now," Ethan muttered.

"It's only been a little over a week...it'll only get worse," Fez replied. "Wait till they do point for the first time."

"Man...," Ethan whistled, "I hate that shit...hardest thing I've done so far...fucking point."

"I've done it twice this week." Fez said stretching out his legs with a grunt.

"Make that three times for me," Ethan replied. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing - a gook could be three feet in front of me, and I wouldn't even know it. Fuck...I'm so tired."

Fez felt for Ethan. He was scrawny, the kind of scrawny a strong wind could blow over...if the wind ever fucking blew in this place. But he could pull his own and he was dependable.

Fez swiped a large hand over his face as he felt the bead a sweat trickle down his forehead. This heat was unrelenting.

Ethan's eyes widened and he suddenly shot up out of his chair. "Hey! Hey lady - stop!"

Fez stood as well and traced Ethan's gaze. A petite Vietnamese woman was walking by them, a somewhat hefty brown bag held in her small hands.

She wore a traditional áo ngũ thân dress Fez noticed, at least he thought that's what it was called. It was beautiful. For a split second he allowed himself to wonder where or if he could get one for Lexi.

Her features were delicate, and extremely youthful; typical of the people here and it still kinda caught him off guard that these people were considered the enemy.

The woman startled at the sound of Ethan's voice and turned to face them... probably not as young as he initially thought, but now...she reminded Fez of a little girl getting caught doing something she shouldn't.

More than likely she was scheduled to be at the base to cook, help with laundry, but the nerves in his fingers were humming. This wouldn't be the first time a civilian was sent to emobalize the 'enemy'.

"Stop there!" Fez's voice came out harsh and the woman glued herself to the spot, eyes wide...fixed on the two of them.

Fez pointed to the bag she was carrying, "What's in the bag?" The woman looked at where he was pointing, understood what he meant, and gave a nod.

She answered in broken English, "cut hair" miming the action with her pointer and index finger.

"Alright-den. You need to speak with the LT." Fez motioned for her to come over and stand next to where he was. With another nod she hesitantly made her way over and stood between him and Ethan. "He's busy right now, but I'll take you to the living quarters." Fez pointed to his chest, then in the direction of the living quarters, a large grey structure the men nicknamed the 'bunk house".

"I'll also need to -"

The woman coward suddenly, stopping his monologue, but she wasn't looking at him...or Ethan. Shit.

"Well, who do we have here?"

Fez sighed. The woman turned her attention back to Fez, a quick flick of her eyes, before focusing her attention back on the new arrival. Nate. McKay followed close behind him, eyes trained on the bag the woman carried.

"What she got in the bag," he asked.

"She's here to cut hair man." Fez turned to Nate and McKay. "I was about to ask for her papers before taking her to the bunk."

"What did he ask, O'Neil?" Nate barely glanced at Fez as he spoke.

"She's been here before," Ethan spoke confidently, though Fez was pretty sure he was bluffing. "We'll still check her, like always man."

Nate stepped towards the woman, he was at least a foot taller than she was. He had a strange look on his face as he gazed down at her. A sinister calm masked underneath his features.

"Or, I could just do it..." His eyes darkened like a shark that's caught the scent of blood. "You don't have anything hidden in your bag right...nothing that goes boom?"

The woman visibly shivered as she shook her head. The corners of Nate's lips curved slightly.

"you wouldn't lie right?" He stepped closer and she reflexively took a step back from him.

"No lie - no lie." She shook her head again squeezing the handle of the bag so hard her knuckles looked almost transparent.

"I don't know...I'm thinking the bag is too obvious." He took another step closer, the woman tried to back away further but her lower back hit a table that was set against the wall of the gazebo. "What do you think O'Neil? Maybe we should make sure she doesn't have anything on her...person"

"I think she's just here to cut hair, man." Fez shuffled on his feet, slightly placing his body in between Nate and the woman...just enough. "No need for all that."

"Yeah..." Nate looked down a little. Fez thought he might be relenting somewhat, when he suddenly produced a large knife from his belt and pointed it at the woman causing her to jump back. A whimper escaped her lips as Nate moved towards her and tucked the sharp tip of the knife under her chin, before slowly dragging it down to her small chest.

"What the fuck - what the fuck are you doing?" Ethan stuttered out. "That ain't necessary, come on man."

"Nate - they said they were gonna check her." McKay started to reach his hand out towards Nate, but retracted it a second later, rethinking his decision to intervene.

The woman began to cry as Nate slid the knife in between the small opening between the buttons of her dress. He popped the first button off with a quick flick of his wrist.

"I think, " he went down to the next button "she's lying and she's gonna show me what she's hiding" Flick. The second button flew to the ground and the woman let out a stifled sob.

"No lie!" She let the bag drop to the ground, a flurry of Vietnamese spilling from her mouth. She looked to Fez again, pleading. Nate grabbed her face hard, forcing her to face him and she cried out. She grabbed at his hand trying to pry it away but to no avail.

"Shut the fuck up with that gook gibberish" Nate spoke dangerously. "Why are you looking to him - he's not gonna be able to help you."

"Nate, chill. Bursh is looking this way."

"I don't give a fuck." Nate growled at McKay. He was zeroed in on Fez - pushing - daring him to do something.

"Yo...I said she's good." Fez spoke slowly "And I'm not gonna tell you again, so you better think before you do somethin stupid."

"Is that a threat?"

"Nah...I'm just tellin you," Fez replied cooly.

"Or what?" Nate challenged. "Let's get this straight, you're a fucking drop out retard, a pussy...just like the rest of these fucks. And what...you trying to be some kind of knight in shining armor now? You know how many of these bitches" he shook the woman's face for emphasis "have played this little game...even little kids. Who gives a fuck what happens to them now." Nate chuckled. "I'll kill this gook cunt in front of you." He leered at the woman "Be a shame actually - she's cute..." A malicious smile slowly formed "Maybe I'll just knock out her teeth and have her suck me off - what?" He glared at Fez. "You don't like that idea? You some kinda fagott? You gonna do something - do it." Nate let out a huff through his nose. "You know what, you don't have the balls."

"Yeah...I wouldn't worry about that playboy."

Fez wasn't for sure if anyone had actually seen him grab the large mack torch from the side of his belt, didn't have time to worry about that. He had to act. A loud crunch sounded as he cracked it over the side of Nate's head and he hit the ground hard.

Fez tossed the torch aside and was on Nate in an instant, hand raised above his head in a fist. He brought his fist down one, two, three, four times, grabbed the collar of Nate's shirt before landing several more blows.

A second dragged by before the others registered what was going on. The woman let out a scream.

"Oh fuck! Fezco stop!" Ethan yelled

"Get off him - get off of him, man! Fuck! Stop, fucking stop!" McKay got to Fez before Ethan and tried to grab Fez by the shoulders. Fez shrugged him off easily and landed a brutal blow to Nate's nose.

"Chill, chill" McKay tried again and this time got a hold of Fez, successfully getting him off Nate. Ethan stepped in hauling him to his feet. "Come on, just stop." He shoved fez hard when he tried to go back and then another till he stopped.

"what the hell is wrong with you?! You could've killed him!" McKay yelled as Fez made his way over to the woman. She had been knocked to the ground at some point during the fight and was lying with her hands over her head. Fez lightly grazed her shoulder and she jerked away. Fez placed his hands on her shoulders again, more firmly.

"...it's okay," he whispered. Her shoulders shook underneath his fingers.

"What the fuck is going on over here" Bursh yelled as he rushed through the entrance to see McKay kneeling over Nate, and Ethan helping Fez get the girl to her feet. "Get her the fuck out of here Lewis and go get Collins. Right fucking now," He yelled at a small, blonde man who had been right behind him. Sargent Lewis nodded and hastily ran out of the gazebo. "You stay here with him." Bursh told McKay. His steel colored eyes then blazed over to Fez. "O'Neil, your speckled ginger ass is coming with me."

* * * * * * * * * *

Major Larsonn, a tall man with salt and pepper hair, sighed as he sized Fez up from his chair. " Listen son, I'm not gonna beat around the fucking bush here...you could've gotten into some serious trouble over this bullshit - still might, but at the moment you're getting off light. Point - eight days - starting two-zero hundred tomorrow - that's it." Larsonn enunciated the last bit, securing its finality. "Lt. Bursh and that private McKay, corroborated your story, so for now you're not gonna be court marshalled." He let his head tilt in a show of displeasure. "As far as Jacobs goes - I'd be lying if I said I didn't have my eye on that mother fucker the moment he set foot here. I would gladly see him sent out, but considering he didn't actually hurt that woman my hands are tied. So he'll be getting eight days as well as soon as he's back on his feet".

Fez remained quiet, honestly a little stunned at what he was hearing.

"We got bad apples like him all over the army, military...that's not gonna change neither." Larsonn continued. "Just you watch your back...men like him...he's dangerous."

Fez gave a single nod. "Thank you, sir. I will."

"well...I ain't got nothing else to say to your sorry ass - you're dismissed private."

"Yes sir". Fez gave a salute and turned to leave the small makeshift office. He was tired and his hands fucking throbbed and he wanted nothing more than to fall into his bunk.

Something crawled from the back of his mind, leaving a trail of something unsavory through the sulci of his brain, contaminating his thoughts...

"Sir..." Fez turned his head "can I ask you something?"

"Son?"

"Has he done anything like that before?"

Larsonn sighed, something flashing in his eyes. "It wouldn't surprise me...but when you got money and connections you can make a lot of things... disappear."

Fez looked down to the floor, no need for further explanation. He made his way out of the majors office and headed back to the bunk house. That unsavory thing made its way to his chest and crawled its way into his stomach...its contents churned and twisted his insides.

Nate Jacobs was dangerous...

* * * * * * * * * * *

Ethan looked up expectantly from the book he was reading as Fez entered the room. "How much trouble are you in," he asked shutting the book and placing it beside him.

Some of the other platoon mates looked towards Fez as well with curious glances but he ignored them.

"Point for eight days straight starting tomorrow." He shrugged out of the muted moss colored shirt he was wearing and sat on the bunk next to Ethan's.

"Shit, that's it? How the hell you get off that easy?"

"McKay and Bursh told Larsonn what went down. Nate was out of line. They checked the girls papers and bag too - she was legit"

"And Jacobs?"

"Same...starting when he gets out of the infirmary." Fez leaned back against the wall at the head of his bed, propping one arm behind his head along with the too flat pillow.

"Shit...this whole thing is fucked." Ethan said flopping back onto his own pillow.

"Five more months man...just gotta make it five more months." Fez whispered.

He imagined what it would be like to see his family, and Lexi when he got back. 'When', because if he was honest he couldn't stomach thinking about the other scenario.

He imagined what it would be like to be back in East Highland.

The first thing he wanted to do was take Lexi to Nino's cafe and maybe a movie...he wanted to feel her...her hair in his hands...her skin.

He missed home and he could have ruined his chances of getting back there this evening, but it was as if someone was truly looking out for him.

Suddenly an image of Lexi as the praying Mary Magdalen filled his mind and he smiled. He imagined the things she would pray for...what she would actually say. Imagined there would be a few choice words slung the 'big guy's' way and Fez almost let out a chuckle picturing Lexi telling God off.

She would do it too, his fierce, sweet, beautiful girl.