#People Counting System Market Share

[anki1994]

People Counting System Market Emerging Technologies, and Growth by Forecast to 2031

The Insight Partners market research People Counting System Market Size and Share Report | 2031 is now available for purchase. This report offers an exclusive evaluation of a range of business environment factors impacting market participants. The market information included in this report is assimilated and reliant on a few strategies, for example, PESTLE, Porter's Five, SWOT examination, and market dynamics

People Counting System market is evaluated based on current scenarios and future projections are added keeping the projected period in consideration. This report integrates the valuation of People Counting System market size for esteem (million USD) and volume (K Units). Research analysts have used top-down, bottom-up, primary, and secondary research approaches to evaluate and approve the People Counting System market estimation.

Detailed scrutiny of market shares, optional sources, and basic essential sources has been done to integrate only valid facts. This research further reveals strategies to help companies grow in the People Counting System market.

Key objectives of this research are:

To contemporary market dynamics including drivers, challenges, threats, and opportunities in the People Counting System market.

To analyze the sum and market estimation of the worldwide People Counting System market

Based on key facets, market segments are added.

The competitive analysis covers key market players and their business strategies.

To examine the People Counting System Market for business probable and strategic outlook.

To review the People Counting System Market size, key regions and countries, end-users, and statistical details.

To offer strategic recommendations based on the latest market developments, and People Counting System market trends.

Perks of The Insight Partners’ People Counting System Market Research

Market Trends: Our report reveals developing People Counting System market trends that are poised to reshape the market preparing businesses with the foresight to retain their competitive edge. This Market research report presents market trends, supply chain analysis, leading participants, and business growth strategies. This research covers technological progress and key developments covering various aspects of the inclusive market. It is valuable market research for existing key players as well as new entrants in the People Counting System Market. Through inputs derived from experts, this research attempts to guide future investors about market details and potential returns on investment. 

Competitive Landscape: This research reveals key market players, their strategies, and possible areas for differentiation.

Analysts Viewpoint: We have industry-specific experts who add credibility to this report with their exclusive viewpoints based on market understanding and expertise. This report goes further into details of entire business processes and doesn’t restrict to only operational aspects. These insights cover venture economics and include tactics for capital investment, investor funding, and projections of ROIs.  Net income and profit loss financial stats are crucial metrics of this People Counting System market report. With these meticulous insights companies can reduce their risks and increase the success rate in the coming decade. 

People Counting System Market Report Coverage:

Report Attributes

Details

Segmental Coverage

Type

Unidirectional

Bidirectional

Technology

Infrared Beam

Thermal Imaging

Video-Based Technology

Others

Offering

End User

Hardware

Software

Regional and Country Coverage

North America (US, Canada, Mexico)

Europe (UK, Germany, France, Russia, Italy, Rest of Europe)

Asia Pacific (China, India, Japan, Australia, Rest of APAC)

South / South & Central America (Brazil, Argentina, Rest of South/South & Central America)

Middle East & Africa (South Africa, Saudi Arabia, UAE, Rest of MEA)

Market Leaders and Key Company Profiles

Axiomatic Technologies Corporation

Axis Coummunications AB

Countwise

Dilax Intelcom GmbH

Eurotech

HELLA AGLAIA MOBILE VISION GMBH

IEE Smart Sensing Solutions

InfraRed Integrated Systems Ltd

RETAILNEXT, INC.

Shoppertrak (Johnson Controls)

Other key companies 

What all adds up to the credibility of this research?

A comprehensive summary of the contemporary People Counting System market scenario

Precise estimations on market revenue forecasts and CAGR to rationalize resources

Regional coverage to uncover new markets for business

Rivalry analysis aims to help corporations at a modest edge

Facts-based crystal-clear insights for business success

The research can be customized as per business necessities

Access to PDF, and PPT formats of this research

Author’s Bio: Aniruddha Dev Senior Market Research Expert at The Insight Partners

[tinydefector]

Hi, since the requests are open, could you write brainstorm x human or perceptor x human SFW/NSFW at your discretion. I just read your book "Human's effects" and I really liked the way you wrote brainstorm. Have a nice day.

Human effects 11 - Brainstorm

So I'll be doing more of these with characters, and if I have another part asked for Brainstorm on this series, it will be a smut piece.

Brainstorm x Human reader

Warnings: light lust mention

Word count: 2.7k

Masterlist

Brainstorm masterlist

Human effects masterlist

__________________

Brainstorm's optics focus on the data pad in his servos, a hum resonates from him along with a small chirp as he filters through the multiple different subjects he had been doing research on. His processor aches from the amount of engex he had consumed the cycle before while at swerves.  The seeker haphazardly pays attention as he walks down the hallway of the corridors of the ship toward the lab, his optics flicker when they lock on the one of  liaisons, very specifically the Ambassador that he along with many others from the night before hand had been ‘fantasises’ about. 

 

 He had so many questions he wanted to ask them in person about human biology but in honesty didn't know where to start, they were an organic species, bipedal mammals who in many aspects were very similar to Cybertronians. His optics linger on them, taking in their frame type, tone and all up rather visual appeal. He could understand why humans were so sought after on the black market, they were soft and rather plus from what he could observe. 

" heya stormy" they call out with a smile as they make their way over to him. Brainstorm jolts from his musings, systems heating with embarrassment at being caught distracted by his thoughts, his engine lets out a hitched whine as fans whirl. But their smile seems warm, non-judgmental, and he relaxes fractionally, they didn't have the ability to read his processor, he was fine he rationalised to himself. 

"Ah, greetings, Ambassador!” He attempts to mask the fluster that was creeping across his plating, wings twitching lightly. "Lovely sol to find you up and about, I wasn't expecting to see you down in the labs this Cycle." He pauses with a. Raised optic rid wondering why they were down their way, they normally didn't make it a habit to visit the scientist. 

“ picking up some equipment Nautica got for my team, she's been helping a lot with our long range transmitter and also with us getting supplies on Ultra Magnus' request” they hum while carrying a small crate. 

His field radiates enthusiasm, if they were down here at that moment perhaps they had some time to spare him for his own pursuit in knowledge.  "Might I beg for a moment of your time? As Cybertron's chief scientist, I was hoping to inquire about Human biology if you had the time. our records only have some much information on your people and i believe a lot of it is rather outdated, if you'd feel comfortable sharing it could offer insights aiding our alliance." He asked, it was worth a shot and if they Were to busy he could always ask one of the other humans.  

They give Brainstorm another sweet smile as they begin walking beside him towards his destination, they hike their crate of equipment highter as to keep grip on it. "Sure I'm happy to answer questions, it's not like I have much going on at the moment, last I heard Megatron and Mags have Rodimus doing my paperwork as punishment for trying to take Rikko Asteroid surfing.” they laugh as the words fall from their lips. Remembering the look on the speedster face when he had more reports dropped on him. 

“ but if we are gonna play twenty questions you better make it fun!" They tease in a singy song voice. Brainstorm's optical ridges curiously curiously beneath his faceplate at the human's playful jest. He lets out his own amused chuckle at the idea of Rodimus suffering even more paperwork, he didn't envy the Captain and even less so the aching processor he was most likely nursing after the drinks from the late cycle. 

"Scientific inquiry as a game, eh? Now there's an intriguing proposition!" His wings fluttered, promptly intrigued with the idea. Data collection through entertaining exchange sounded rather fun compared to the normal exchange he had with Perceptor. A mischievous lilt crept into his tone as he slowly matched their pace walking together his optics flicker down to them taking in just how small they were compared to him. They just met his knee plating joints. humansWeren't nearly as small as a lot of Cybertronians were lead to believe. He remembered the first time ever seeing them he was quite taken back over their size originally expecting them to fit into the pal of his servo. But seeing them in real life had made him realise a lot of what he believed or old records were rather incorrect over humans, and their biology. 

 "Very well. First question: what gives you energy - nutrient paste, energon, the taste of victory?" His visor gleamed roguishly the last question was more a tease but he found it amusing to watch their reaction. The liaison lets out a hearty laugh at the first question. " hahahah oh by the stars, you really don't get alot of human Visitors do you?. So most of what humans as a whole eat is a mix of meat, fruit and vegetables. We need a mixed diet due to being an omnivorous species, but it varies person to person" they explain, giving his leg a gentle nudge with their elbow. 

Brainstorm cycled his optics,parsing this new data on their nutritional requirements with keen interest, it also gave him more information to jot down later.but he is utterly fascinating that a species derived sustenance from multiple organic compounds rather than a single standardised fuel source. "Meat, fruits and vegetation, you say? Truly extraordinary." He made a note to research Earth's ecological climate zones and harvest periods, he was rather interested in seeing what earth produced, Earth had become one of the largest suppliers of energon when cybertron was being rebuilt as it was a common occurring element on earth, it became the main trade source between the two planets.

"What about cybertronians? Do you guys only consume Energon or do you have other things, i know earth supplies quite a lot of energon to cybertron but do you guys only consume it ?" As they returned the query, he waved a languid hand. "Energon in its various forms comprises the bulk of a Cybertronian's fuel intake, though rarely do we consume it in its raw state. Refining introduces necessary additive alloys and minerals to suit an individual's frametype and occupation. Medics also develop specialised fuel mixes for patients. But we do consume other elements, oils, metals and crystals are other necessary for different platingsor frame types " His wings fluttered in delight talking about the different compounds of energon and how it was used. He was no chemist but did enjoy dabbling in creating different flavoured energon.

 "Recreational enjoyment of other sustenance is not unheard of, however. Certain sensory-inducing additives have been experimented with at social gatherings, such as High grade, energex are a subcategory of energon which has a different effect on a processor compared to casual energon, med grade and such" he hums while explaining the different types of fuel, from the causal to the luxurious. 

“Ah so similar to Alcohol for humans, that's quite amusing actually and explains why Rodimus tends to look like he's hung over” they chuckles again remembering how dead on his feet he looked that morning when they had met for a meeting with the command.

“Oh I wasn't aware humans also had similar, but yes energex and high grade have a rather intoxicating effect and lossens intakes while in group gatherings.” He replies. As they make their way into the laboratory. Perceptor is off in the distance and shoots them both a look as Brainstorm slowly lifts them up onto the bench. Before continuing their conversation. 

“ you mentioned something about chemists, what do cybertronian chemists do?” The Ambassador asks while they place their crate down and begin engaging in conversation once again. Brainstorm felt Preceptor's optics tracking the pair curiously as he began another explanation. “Chemists tend to have a range of different fields, the easiest way for me to explain would be to say that Swerve is a Chemist” His optics shimmer in delight as they trade back Information with the human sitting on the bench. 

“I thought Swerve was a bartender?” They reply with a tilted head, their brows pinch in an almost adorable expression to Brainstorm. He has to keep his engine from making a whine at the adorable look. His EM field dances with interest for them. 

“Indeed, chemists work with making, distilling energon and other substances. So in one way Swerve is a chemist but so is Ratchet but they make very different products” He explains. 

“That's so cool, almost like being a human chemist, baker and bartender in one” they hum as they take in the new information they were learning. His optics linger on their hands for a moment before he decides to change the subject of fuel sources. 

"With your permission, I find human epidermal structures utterly absorbing," he began. "The intricate pigmentation patterns, tactile sensitivity... might I?" A single digit hovered millimetres above a forearm, awaiting the liaison's consent before even the faintest contact. It takes them a moment to register the terms from Brainstorm but once they realised he was asking to examine their arm. “Oh sure just wait a second” reply before rolling their sleeves up, hold their arm out to Brainstorm to look at. It catches Preceptor's attention as he raises an unamused optic at how brasin Brainstorm was being.

 "Also heads up you don't need to treat me like glass, humans are pretty resilient so you're not gonna hurt me by touching me unless you're actually trying" they inform. "My thanks for the clarification, as I explained earlier, a lot of our records on Humans is rather outdated, however I'd rather not cause you harm" he responded gently, servos dancing over their arm gently as he takes in the man different markings, patterns and colours that mark their skin. It's highly fascinating to him and he found another reason he believed humans were sought after. It wasn't a subject of cybertronian history he liked but he was interested in learning why humans were so sought after. Soft, pliable, small and would have mostly been very docile. It sent a rattle up his spinal struts as he tries to push the thought a side. 

A single digit traced the patterns of tactile receptors watching the way the little bumps spread across their skin in a visual response to his touch. "Fascinating... your epidermal sensory network far surpasses initial database entries. I've never seen such colours either its stunning" His field pulsed appreciative curiosity as he traced the lines and marking that look like they are hidden under the Ambassador's skin, it makes him wonder how far the marking go but decided it would be pushing it to try and see more, but he knows he will be fantasising about tracing the markings. 

From the corner, Perceptor cleared his vocalizer. "Yes, human biological studies hold fascinating merit. Brainstorm, do refrain from unnecessary experimentation." The other bots voice calls out as he shoots Brainstorm, another disapproving look. 

Brainstorm dips his helm respectfully as he pulls away lwtting the Liason pull their sleeve back down. "No disrespect intended, Perceptor. Merely exploratory observation. Scientific progress warrants cross-cultural exchange plus we need to also rework our old records on human functions, biology and culture." His visor brightened, dispite Preceptor's tone Brainstorm was thrilled with the new knowledge he had gathered just from this meeting.

"Oh don't worry Percy. I doubt Stormy brought me here to experiment on, plus he's curious. I can't say I'm not also curious about you guys either, Earth doesnt have alot of information on Cybertronians outside of the small stuff we had from when you guys were stuck on earth. So i'm happy trading information because we are both interested in learning about each other's people. " They shoot back at the other scientist. Preceptor's optic ridges pinched ever so slightly at the human's familiar tone, though he made no further protest. If they felt at ease with Brainstorm's studies, who was he to force caution upon willing participants? "See that your... observations proceed responsibly," he calls out, it's aimed at Brainstorm but the seeker does not fret too much. 

The two continue chatting between each other trading information with small jokes between them every now and then. The liaison kicks their legs back and forth on the table. It gives Brainstorm the opportunity to truly look at them and appreciate how soft they are, a lustful thought crossing his mind and EM field pulsing lightly which makes Perceptor snap his helm to look at them again. Perceptor narrowed his optics warily at Brainstorm. :. Brainstorm a word.: the other scientist states through comms which makes the seeker go ridged, wings flickering in discomfort. 

Clearing his vocalizer loudly, Perceptor took a deliberate step forward. "Perhaps we will catch you another Cycle Ambassador, Brainstorm and I have much work to attend to, and we wouldn't wish to keep you any longer" he interjected coolly. For his part, Brainstorm cycled a ventilation and reined in his field, hed just had Perceptor call him out on it and the embarrassment was showing with each flutter of his wings. 

The Liaison gives the two scientists a wave once they are set back on the ground. "Well I'll catch you both another time, I'm going to go talk with Swerve about energon, you have me rather intrigued to learn more " They call out lifting their crate back up while heading to the door. Once they had left the Lab it had Brainstorm shifted warily under the weight of Preceptor's dissecting gaze. 

"The human liaison has graciously undertaken representing their kind aboard an unknown vessel to foster cooperation between species. Jeopardising such an auspicious start through any misguided impulse would severely damage relations." 

Pausing his tasks, Perceptor affixed Brainstorm with a searching stare, optics bright with both caution and care for his foolish yet brilliant colleague. "I need not remind you of one of your talents, the fragility of organic creatures compared to our frames.”

Brainstorm shuffled awkwardly beneath the Preceptor's scrutinising gaze. His usually nimble processors faltered grasping a suitably cogent response, field radiating discomfort through scrambled modulations. How to explain such rash intrigues ebbing his usually steady rationale? "Ah...you raise entirely fair points, as always, Perceptor," he demurred, fidgeting with a gripper. "To be perfectly forthright - and at the risk of sounding like a sparkling with his first crush - there's simply something innately captivating about these diminutive humans! Their resilience, ingenuity, curiosity..." His plating flustered with static. 

"And I'll admit, it's not just my scholarly interest piqued. Even the most stoic among us seem charmed by our new small friends." He cycled stabilising ventilation. Wings fluttering weakly, Brainstorm inclined his helm. "Brainstorm pleas for the love of whatever deity you believe be it primus or else Do Not Frag the Ambassador!, they are one of our heads, they work closely with our captains and if you mess Slag up it will be your helm" Perceptor groans out as he pinches his nasal ridge.

Brainstorm's plating flared hotly at Preceptor's emphatic directive. "I - of course not, you must think me a complete naïve sparkling!" he sputtered, waving his gripper defensively. "Mere scholarly observation was my intent, nothing untoward, I assure you, yes I'm intrigued by Humanity and the liaison is rather charming I'm interested in the scientific study of humanity, to rewrite the small knowledge we have on them!"  

Venting sulkily, he leaned against the bench servos tapping into the metal. "Though I'll note, my interests seem far from singular. Last night's engex-fueled discussions had a few of us a little too invested in compatibility. All I'm saying is curiosity seems widespread! So while your cautions are well-founded..." His plating flustered again helplessly, wings fluttering as they would when he was interested in something. 

 "Brainstorm we are not doing this" Perceptor states as he turns away from his fellow scientists. "Wait just a klik, Percy - don't think I fail to spot tangled undercurrents in that rigid plating of yours," he pushed, emboldened by this newfound insight. Cycling closer, his field pulsed a teasing nudge against his colleague's. "For all your lofty speeches cautioning restraint... could it be you harbour doubts following your own advice?" He teases only to get a nasty glare from the other mech. but decides it's better to just ignore Brainstorm at that point. “you know Swerve has bets on you, says your a dark horse waiting for a chance to sweet the Ambassador off their Pedes” Brainstorm states trying to get a reaction out of Perceptor. It gets a wrench thrown at him. 

___________________

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[tttopoftheworld]

I often post about Palestine but I'd like to take a moment to talk about what's happening in Bangladesh.

KEEP YOUR EYE ON BANGLADESH

TL;DR Students killed for protesting the government's quota system. Students are being arrested and murdered for speaking up about their deceased friends. Everyone is being threatened by the government and many social media platforms are being banned.

All I'm asking is to spread the word. Please. International pressure really works for our nation. We're dying here. UNICEF reports 34 children dead. There might be more. All reblogs and likes and shares are appreciated. Thank you. I guess I'll see you tomorrow.

Past

A movement protesting the government's quota system put forth by the father of our nation Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. This was placed in the first place to help the grandchildren of those who fought in the Liberation War of our country to get government jobs. We have a terrible job market here which is why many highly educated people leave the country. On 16th July, While protesting, a Student named Abu Sayed of Begum Rokeya University was killed by the police. This only stoked the feelings of injustice between the students.

During a press conference, the PM was asked about the quota for the grandchildren of veterans. Her response? "If we don't give jobs to the grandchildren of Veterans, will we give jobs to the grandchildren of Razakars?" Razakars are the people who collaborated with the Pakistani Forces to bring down the Bangladeshi freedom fighters. They betrayed the nation for their own gain.

Traitors.

Imagine calling the youth of your nation traitors.

Imagine calling almost 14 million young people who can't find a job despite their credentials betrayers.

Imagine cursing people who are protesting for job equality under a government with the all time highest corruption in the history of this nation.

On 17th July the broadband connection centre in Mohakhali was burned down. Mobile data services and communication were shut down by the PM. After 11 days the internet was properly restored.

On 19th July, A National Military Curfew was put in place by the Prime Minister to mitigate the unrest.

But that was last month. If you need details I highly recommend sources in Bangladesh like the Daily Star or reputable like Al Jazeera. The quota has since been lifted. Lives were lost. But it was for a good cause, right?

Right?

RIGHT?

Present

Well no. There's still a curfew in the capital. Several districts like Cumilla are still under attack. The government warns of not spreading misinformation yet still lie about the severity of the issue. The police are arresting those who protest as well as those who speak up. The students are demanding for the resignation of the PM. The PM obviously refuses to apologise or even acknowledge the deaths of some 147?

or is it 200?

They're not counting how many they're killing. They're not letting anyone else count either.

It is midnight here. This morning as in 4th August 2024, the students have called for a non cooperation movement. The Ruling Party Awami League will also be holding rallies across the nation tomorrow. I do not know what is going to happen to me. I do not want to think of what will happen to my family tomorrow. I don't really care. What I'm truly scared for is the future. As these protests do not end well here.

Future

Precedence says the PM will eventually resign. Every student protest of our nation has ended in momentary success.

Momentary

What comes after is usually a military regime. A caretaker government until a next government is chosen in a supposed election. Even then if they decide to hold an election. The caretaker government is usually run as a dictatorship. It was true for the 60s. It was true for the 90s. I don't doubt it will happen again.

I'm graduating next year. My niece is still new to the academic system. I wish her the best. My grandmas and grandpas are dead. Nobody left to pray for me. My aunts and uncles are growing old. My cousins can't speak up for fear. My mom is so tired. My dad is angry. I'm unsure if I will still be able to post the next couple of days.

All I'm asking is to spread the word. Please. International pressure really works for our nation. We're dying here. UNICEF reports 34 children dead. There might be more. All reblogs and likes and shares are appreciated. Thank you. I guess I'll see you tomorrow.

[thepascalofus]

Supply Run - Return (part two)

AO3

PART ONE

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader

Word Count: 8.0k

Summary: You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.

Chapter Summary: While Mando takes a trip to the market and gets what he needs, he ponders your relationship and what it means to him.

Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only! Switching POVs, post season 2, the Crest lives, strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of Grogu, soft!Mando, insecure!Mando (a smidge), helmet loopholes, pining, idiots in love, jealous!reader, sad!reader for a little, mentions of sex work (sex work is work!), eventual SMUT (making out, grinding, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral sex, p in v, PRAISE kink, dirty talk), FLUFF, cuddling, happy ending guaranteed!

A/N: Thank you all so much for the responses on the first part! This is my first fic that I've ever shared and it makes me so happy that other people enjoy my writing! Enjoy!

Mando handed his scope off to you in the worn down store. Wallpaper peeled from the ancient wooden planks of the walls. Cobwebs littered the untouched areas of the store. The work stations in the back, visible from the pick up counter at the front, were in complete disarray. Several projects started, but not finished. Several projects finished, but not retrieved.

You took the scope in your hand and twisted it in your hands until your gaze landed on the name of the manufacturer and the serial number. Your eyebrows shot up once the brand of the scope was revealed, it twisted in your hands once more. Hands raising the metal tube so it was level with your eyes, you looked into the scope. 

“Ah! I know what it is!”

Mando watched in confusion as you ran to a workstation and grabbed a singular tool. How did you know what was wrong so quickly? He sat in the hull of the Crest for hours attempting to fix the scope. The motions of taking the scope apart and putting it back together were etched into his brain from the number of times he did so. 

You returned to the front of the store with the tool in hand. “This manufacturer has been having these issues lately. They built their magnification system like no one else, but they didn’t seem to account for the need to recalibrate the scope every once in a while. Recalibrating too often causes the lenses to misalign.” 

Mando calibrated his every day. He had to. It was part of his job. A miscalibration could be the difference between a two hour hunt and a twelve hour hunt.

Your face twisted in concentration as you inserted the tool into the side of the scope. Jostling the metal, it popped open and allowed access to the inside. “For some reason they put these weird pins in…” You trailed off while you removed a total of three thin metal pins. Once the pins were removed, you clicked the top of the scope back into place and handed it to Mando.

Mando previously took the scope apart countless times. He never noticed any pins.

“Twenty credits, please.” You said with a smile. Your gaze met his–you somehow found it through his black visor–and you maintained eye contact.

The display on the inside of Mando’s helmet only progressed seven minutes after he entered the store. Inside of his helmet his eyebrows shot up. He was impressed. Not only with your efficiency, but with the reasonable price as well.

“I’m impressed.” He stated. Nodding at you, he retrieved a few credits from his utility belt and set them on the paint chipped counter. He turned and walked a few paces and then stopped in front of the door.

He’s been looking for a crew mate for weeks. The potential candidates he’s stumbled across were either annoying, rude, or incompetent. Throughout his time as a bounty hunter he’s been to countless repair shops. The service was always lack-luster, prices were too high, repair time much too long. 

Sure, he just met you eight minutes ago, but you had potential. He turned on his heel and faced you. Armor glinted in the low lighting of the run down shop. 

“Are you in the market for a new job?”

–

Walking to the market, he’d been reflecting on his decision to bring you onto the Crest as a crew partner.

It was the best decision he ever made, besides saving Grogu from the Empire.

You were intelligent. Friendly. Resourceful. Efficient. Brave.

You stared a Mandalorian straight in the eyes–well, visor–and didn’t even flinch. You didn’t even break eye contact, unlike everyone else. People would turn to whoever they’re with to avoid his gaze. They spoke like he wasn’t a meter or two away–and like he couldn’t amplify their voices with his helmet.

His tall, broad stance usually set everyone on edge. The heavy weight of beskar armor, a reminder of his skillset, didn’t aid in calming the nerves of anyone either. He was typically soft spoken around others, as he noticed people’s reactions when he spoke–eyes wide, speech stuttering, shaking hands–scared. 

Everyone was afraid of him.

Except you.

When you first boarded the Razor Crest, Mando was extremely careful in making sure you were comfortable. The majority of his days not hunting were spent in the cockpit or in his bunk. Whenever you crossed paths in the hull you offered him a small smile and quickly looked away. Did your bravery fade away?

He came back from a hunt one day, quarry in tow, and he was relieved to hear, “How was your day?” Fall from your lips once the bounty was in carbonite.

Still cautious–mindful of how the modulator made his voice sound–he kept his answers short and to the point.

“Fine.”

“Busy.”

“Awful.”

Hearing the four words you said after each return from a hunt, and being able to give you a response without you slinking away, made the hunts worth it.

One night always stood out in his mind. It was just like any other return from one of his hunts. Mando dragged the quarry up the Crest’s ramp by a cord tied around their ankles. He lifted the man to stand up, doing so effortlessly with a few grunts to spare. 

Your living space was in the hull, so he always tried to make the ends of his hunts fast. You didn’t have any choice but to watch. Mando didn’t want to make you watch for too long. Maker, he didn’t want you to watch at all.

His fist slammed the button to begin the freezing process. Breathing heavily, he stood and watched the bounty as they froze into the carbonite cell. A blanket of silence covered the hull once the hissing of the freezing mechanisms came to a stop.

“How was your day?”

There it is. His favorite part after the hunt. Knowing you were there, safe within the hull, and that you wanted to be friendly with him–even after witnessing him freeze a person he tracked down for several hours.

“Nothing you want to hear about,” he replied, his voice tinged with tiredness. The helmet’s modulator most likely didn’t register the sleep in his voice. Truly, he didn’t think that you would want to hear about it. The Mandalorian was afraid that hearing about his hunts would put you on edge. You already extended a branch of friendliness to him twice a day. He didn’t want to give that up by talking about the bounties he tracks down.

“Try me.”

Those words.

Those words have only ever been spoken to him by enemies. It always caused annoyance to wash over him, head to toe. He’s a Mandalorian. Confident of his skills in combat. No matter the odds, Mando knew he would like them.

But when those words tumbled from your lips, it was different. When his enemies weren’t scared of him, it was annoying. When you weren’t scared of him, adoration filled his body. And not adoration in a patronizing way, but adoration as a form of respect. 

It made him want you that much more.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Mando realized the crotch of his pants were tight. Nonchalantly, he clasped his hands together and rested them below his belt.

“Quarry tried to escape and they ran. Would have been back four hours ago,” the modulator gritted out. Again, he was conscious of how the modulator warped his voice. “Not too fun,” he added in an attempt to make the conversation more casual.

You were silent. He whispered a curse to himself under his helmet, one that he was certain wouldn’t be picked up by his modulator. Was his answer too much? Mando quickly became nervous and started to shift his weight from one foot to the other. The silence you left in the air made him a bit anxious.

The T shape of his visor peered over to you. You stood still in shock, reminiscent of the people that saw him in public. Before his thoughts could spiral too much, you replied, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Dank farrik. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to comfort him. “You don’t have to be sorry,” his chest brushed against your shoulder as he swiftly hopped onto the first rung of the ladder up to the cockpit. “It’s my job.”

“That doesn’t mean it sucks any less,” you said. He smiled underneath his helmet at your consideration. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened and closed as you realized what you said, “sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that your job sucks.”

You weren’t wrong. Making his way through tough terrain, relying on a blinking red light on a piece of metal to guide him. Finding them was a task in itself, but dragging them back to the Crest was the other half of his job that sucked. Mando looked over his shoulder at you and replied matter-of-factly, “My job does suck.”

A giggle bubbled out from your chest. Every once in a while you would be reading a funny article on your Holopad and your laughs would echo through the hull of the Crest, making their way up into the cockpit. He needed more of them. His silver helmet shook slightly from side to side and he turned back to climb the ladder. But not before he also let out a small chuckle.

If you were comfortable enough to stand up to him, and laugh at his awful attempts at jokes–after he just hauled a bounty onto the ship–Mando realized he was safe.

Not only were you safe with him. He felt safe with you, in more ways than one.

Kriff it. You extended a friendly attitude towards him–a faceless warrior covered in impenetrable armor–then he could extend a friendly attitude towards you as well.

You asked him about this day, both in the mornings and the evenings. He learned about what you like and didn’t like. One item stood out to him. Caf. He always entered into a cloud of caf scent when he sauntered into the hull in the mornings. Mando was usually up before you, so he figured he would start making you a cup every morning. Confident enough in knowing which kinds of caf you preferred, he would stock up on caf every supply run.

The Mandalorian got closer to you, both physically and emotionally. Sometimes he would catch his hands landing on your waist or your lower back when he passed you on the ship. You’d shoot him a small smile in response. The distance he kept from you only decreased. He wanted to see your smile more and more. 

One thing he didn’t see coming was your interest in Mando’a. He would mumble to himself in the ship while completing various tasks.

“What’s that word mean?” You’d occasionally ask. The Mandalorian would explain their meanings, sometimes struggling to translate the word to Basic.

He must have taught you at least two dozen words in Mando’a by now. Each time you asked you would give him your full attention. 

At night, if he amplified the sound with his helmet enough, he could hear you practicing the words and recalling their meanings. It motivated him to share more words with you.

–

All of these experiences have led to this day. He’s been planning it for a month or two now. 

He wants to ask you on a date. Nerves bubbled up from his stomach and throughout his body. They suddenly came to a halt. 

Not now. First, he needs to collect information on a quarry.

Lost in his thoughts, he looked up and the market filled his vision with you in his peripheral. It wasn’t too busy, part of the reason why he was comfortable enough for you to shop on your own. He clarified the meet up point to you and watched as you took off. You had a bounce in your step, probably due to your excitement at shopping alone. 

Once he meandered further into the market he began to collect information. This market was the bounty’s last location. Mando’s guess was that he either simply wanted to be in a small city, gambled their life savings away, or they paid for visit after visit with the workers at the brothel until they ran out of credits.

Only one way to find out. The gambling and brothels didn’t start up until later in the afternoon. To kill the time, and to possibly find the quarry, Mando wandered throughout the different sections of the market. 

He asked a few vendors about the bounty. Mando described the man to many market sellers and only got a slight lead from one woman donned in patterned fabrics. 

“I think he went that way,” the woman gestured with one of her hands towards an intersection, “Take the left path. I don’t know anything else beyond that.”

Mando dropped a few credits into her hand and gave her a polite nod, “Thank you.” He continued on and curved his gait to take the left path. From the signs and general merchandise displayed on each stall, he knew he was entering the clothing section of the market.

The helmet covering his head swiveled from left to right and right to left. No one matched the description of his quarry. Repeating his previous process, he made his way down the stall-lined alley and asked a couple different vendors.

Once the last vendor finished talking, and provided him with another lead, he dug his hand into his pocket and slid the credits on the stall’s counter towards them. Turning his back towards the vendor, his feet carried him two steps back into the market.

Then he saw you.

You stood hunched over a table of colorful bracelets. Tapping his fingers to the temple of his helmet, Mando zoomed in and the helmet displayed your face to him, deep in thought. Looking down, you were hovering your hands over a grid of various green bracelets. 

You stopped on one. Mostly brown, almost too much to be in the green section, Mando thought. Nonetheless, the green and silver streaks peeked in and out of the thick threads of brown that made up the bracelet. Your fingers sorted through the sizes of the bracelet and selected one that looked close to your size. 

Clutching it in one hand, the other hand searched for another of the same bracelet. It was larger than the previous size. You set the smaller bracelet down and tested the strings. The bracelet was adjustable, and you smiled at the discovery.

You transferred the bracelets onto the table of the stall and used one hand to dig into your pockets. Palm held out flat, Mando guessed that about twenty credits sat in your palm. He followed your gaze to the sign listing the prices.

PRICES

1 bracelet = 15 credits

2 = 30 credits

3 = 45 credits

4 = 60 credits

Shoulders falling, you dropped the credits back into your pocket and returned the bracelets to their original spot in the grid of green. Ground crunched beneath your shoes as you turned and continued wandering through the market.

Mando noted it was the third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Not wanting you to realize he saw you, the Mandalorian walked in the opposite direction you took. After twenty minutes he noticed that the stalls became much more strange than the stalls in the clothing section of the market. Peering at the different products for sale, he saw a potions shop offering “super strength elixir” and a vendor selling various pet-like creatures. A few more vendors passed his peripheral vision as he continued his strides. They came to a stop once a building larger than the surrounding stalls came into view.

His helmet tilted upwards to read the sign displayed front and center on the large building: BROTHEL.

Tapping the side of his helmet, the time on the helmet’s display indicated that the brothel and gambling scenes had just begun. Mando tapped the temple of his helmet once again and the warm bodies within the building lit up, like he had x-ray vision. He counted a dozen in total. One body stood in the same spot inside near an entryway–the bouncer, Mando thought.

The bouncer was the individual that allowed access in and out of the building. If their memory was decent, they would be like a living guest book. Mando figured he could bribe them to reveal information, which was his usual plan with most of the beings he spoke with.

He sauntered over to the side of the building the bouncer was standing at. A singular light flickered over the side door, the sun was still out, so Mando was confused why it was on. The beskar helmet observed the side door.

Metal. Double deadbolts. Keypad on the left side. Small slit at eye level–neck level for the Mandalorian.

As soon as he crouched down to look near the slit, it slid open and revealed a thick pair of black eyebrows. Black eyes bore into the brow of Mando’s helmet, as the bouncer couldn’t seem to find his eyes. 

“Do you have an appointment?” The bouncer asked. The voice behind the door was gruff, as if the words had to crawl from the depths of his throat. 

“No,” Mando responded.

Black eyes blinked and then disappeared when the bouncer closed the metal slit. 

Mando was taken aback and furrowed his brow. His fist pounded on the door. He just wanted this hunt to be over with. He wanted to get back to you.

The slit in the door revealed two black eyes once more.

“I have credits and will pay you if you give me information on a client your establishment may have served.” Mando’s modulator gritted out loudly. Straight and to the point. All business. 

Eyes disappeared again, but were then accompanied with the sounds of the deadbolts unlocking. The metal door swung open to reveal a man dressed in all black with a silver name tag. Black hair matched the rest of his ensemble. 

Still holding the door, the bouncer asked, “What’s the bounty look like?”

An eyebrow raised inside Mando’s helmet, but he figured the bouncer knew the drill by now. Even other bounty hunters knew that brothels were what many bounties visited. A gloved hand unbuttoned a pocket on his belt and retrieved a bounty puck. Clicking the side of it, the puck displayed the quarry. 

The man stepped out of the doorway and onto the pavement, pulling the door closed behind him. His black eyes slightly squinted when his gaze trailed up and down the hologram.

“Ah yeah, I’ve seen this guy. He has a type, always goes for the blondes.” 

“Does he have any upcoming appointments?” Mando questioned.

The bouncer sighed in thought and pulled a small notepad from his pocket. Mando mirrored the man’s motion and produced a pen and notepad from his pocket. 

“The guy has an appointment in two days. He just asked to see a blonde. Figures.” The man shrugged and opened his notepad. Mando noticed it was a planner, and the bouncer flipped to the pages for the appointments two days from today.

“Which workers would take him as a client?” Mando’s modulator churned the words. His pen clicked as he readied himself to write.

The man donned in black made a fist with one hand and raised a finger with each name, “Ari. Taima. And Nomi. They would be in rooms one, five, or seven.”

Wow, Mando thought, this guy really knew the drill. He quickly finished up writing down the names and room numbers of each worker. The pen scratched feverishly against the cream colored paper, leaving behind black strokes to form letters and numbers. Notepad folding closed and the pen clicking, signifying the end of his notes, Mando returned the pen and paper to their place in his pocket. His opposing hand reached into a different pocket and produced a sizable amount of credits. Feeling generous, thankful that this hunt was going to be quick, he compensated the bouncer handsomely.

First task done. Second task on the horizon.

Creaking produced from the hinges of the metal door as the bouncer disappeared behind it once more. Flickering light gleamed off the beskar armor that protected the Mandalorian in combat. Although he wasn’t going into combat, because he wouldn’t be nervous if he was. 

Mando trained most of his life with the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Combat flowed through his blood easily. It was a part of him. 

But he was never trained on how to ask people out on dates.

On top of that, he was never trained on how to ask you out on a date.

He didn’t want to misread the situation. You could just be friendly. Who would want to date a man and not know what he looks like? Who would want to constantly live on a ship, without a permanent home? 

Being Mando, he prepared for the worst. If you said no, he figured that you would be uncomfortable living with the man who asked you out on a date. Knowing that he’s attracted to you. He would fly wherever you wanted and give you some credits to get started. Kriff, he’d send credits for however long it takes for you to get on your feet. Then he’d leave you alone. 

Admittedly, the Mandalorian would probably keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe. You just wouldn’t know he’s there.

But if you said yes.

Mando’s chest bloomed with anticipation. Firework-like tingles trailed up and down his limbs at the thought. He bit his lip within the confines of his helmet when he realized his pants had gotten tighter. Thankfully he was a Mandalorian, because heat washed over his face, half due to arousal and the other half in embarrassment.

The brown eyes underneath the helmet widened. If he wanted to do more with you and you agreed, he didn’t have protection.

Turning on his heel, cape whipping behind him, he made a quick pace back to the brothel.

Once he arrived at the gray building, the light at the side of the building having more of a purpose, Mando glided towards the same door as before. Bringing a fist up to the metal, he knocked three times.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Clink. Shhhkt.

“Do you sell condoms?” the modulator quickly blurted.

All business.

—

He arrived at the meet up point before you. Leaning against a nearby tree, Mando checked the time constantly, as if he was devoted to the action more than his Creed. If you were late, he always went looking. 

Thankfully, you trudged up to the food stall on time with a hefty bag full of purchases. Fine, brown gravel grinded against the soles of Mando’s shoes as he made his way over to you. His gloved hand slipped the bag from your grasp and the pair of you began walking back to the Crest.

Both of you carried on with your normal post-supply run routines. You and Mando, but this time just Mando, piled the purchases from the market onto the hull’s floor. From there, the items could be sorted through and put in their respective places around the Crest.

As Mando finished unloading the large bag of purchases, he quickly dug around for the receipts. He knew how much you liked to review the shopping haul each time a supply run was completed. Mando enjoyed seeing the satisfaction wash over your face after you read over the receipts.

But this time was different. You froze once you got to the last receipt.

Mando’s helmet tilted in confusion. He took a few steps closer towards you, “What’s wrong? Did we forget something?”

You remained still while your eyes darted over the lines on the receipt. With your back turned to him, Mando found the opportunity to zoom in on the ink printed on the flimsy paper.

ITEMS PURCHASED (1)

CONDOM - 12 PACK

Oh. Fuck. FUCK.

He hasn’t even asked you on a date yet and now you probably already think he’s a perv. Nerves took over his body as you continued to stand still.

Your hand quickly crushed the receipts and threw them in the trash, “Nope! The last receipt didn’t look familiar but,” you trailed off slightly but recovered, “I remembered what I bought from the place.” A nervous laugh–obviously fake, Mando knew what your real one sounded like–escaped from your lips.

He fucked it up. You knew he was interested in you like that. And you didn’t feel the same. He hasn’t even asked you on the date yet. It’s all screwed up now.

But he also felt like he didn’t have enough evidence. What if you did like him but the idea of…needing to use the condoms…made you nervous.

Mando had to at least try. The least he had to do was ask you.

He cleared his throat and grabbed the bag off of the floor. You stood away from him, biting the inside of your cheek, nervously watching his movements. 

“I’m going to go to the night market,” he informed you, “I have some business with a bounty I need to take care of.” 

The bounty wouldn’t be captured until two days from now. In reality, he was really going to go and purchase snacks, takeout, and a pair of those bracelets you admired. It would have been suspicious if he met you back at the meet up point with bags full of snacks. The beskar man figured it would be best to hold off on buying them until later, and tell you he was getting a bounty, so you wouldn’t catch on.

He should’ve waited for this second trip to buy the condoms, he thought.

–

Mando left to, “Go to the night market,” he said. You saw the condom listed on the market receipts, you knew where he went tonight. What he’s going to do. 

The brothels.

Yeah, sure, he’s paying a worker to give him a service. No feelings attached. But you didn’t want him to be with anyone else. Was Mando necessarily yours? No. Have you ever had sex with him? Also no.

That didn’t stop you from getting jealous.

And it wasn’t just jealousy. It was fear. What if he fell in love with one of them? Or what if he was going on dates? He could have a romantic interest you don’t even know about. Next thing you know, they’re going steady and you’re kicked off the ship. Or worse, you have to watch him love someone that isn’t you.

No more silence with him in the cockpit, watching as the hyperspace lights soar past the windshield. Feet tapping down the ladder as you both began your nighttime routines. He’d wait in the hull near the door of the fresher in just his helmet, undershirt, sleep pants, and socks. As he lifted off the wall from his leaning stance he’d ask you, “Are you done?” Holding his own hands in front of him, trying to seem relaxed, as if he was trying to look less intimidating. “Yeah,” you’d quickly respond, leaving the fresher and brushing past him. Sometimes his hand found your waist as he passed, or the small of your back. “Thank you,” he’d grunt gently as he closed the fresher door. 

No more of Mando letting out a small, “Good night,” before lingering on your closing eyes and watching as your lips smiled, forming your response, “Good night.” 

Falling asleep, you knew you’d wake up to him. He would be up before you on most days, leaving you a fresh cup of caf and your favorite ration pack (when he had them). The short chatter between you two, going over the logistics of the next hunt, telling stories from your past, or just thinking out loud to each other. Gone.

You would be banished from home.

The fear struck your chest. Heat searing through your ribcage and meeting your spine, the visions repeated over and over in your head. Tears fell like waterfalls from your eyes. Most streams connected underneath your chin and trailed down your neck. Your back met the hull’s wall as you sank down onto the floor. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Your head was heavy and numb.

Just breathe. You knew you weren’t going to die. Go through some heartbreak? Maybe, but you knew you’d be alive. It helped. Your breath slowed and the fear dissipated into the air around you. That didn’t stop the flow of tears down your cheeks as your eyes were fixed on the closed ramp.

–

Mando’s footsteps set a steady pace back to the market.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

He displayed a map of the marketplace as an overlay on the display of his helmet. Mando usually reserved this practice for combat to aid in determining exit strategies and the best plan of attack.

But now he was using it to calculate the most efficient route throughout the marketplace in order to see you again sooner. 

Closing the overlay from the helmet’s display, he was met with the sight of the market. Long strings of lights decorated the different stalls. Many vendors took advantage of the dark and used different, bright combinations to reel in customers. Some lights were multicolored. Some flashing. Some huge and some small. He thought of the “ooh”s, and, “ahh”s that you would let out at the brilliant display.

The Mandalorian started in the food section of the market. Carefully examining which vendors carried your favorite snacks, he made purchase after purchase in quick succession. His helmet remained on a swivel, scanning the stalls from right to left and left to right. 

A stall offering your favorite kind of takeout came into view.

Once Mando arrived at the stall he ordered two takeout meals. The vendor looked startled and confused as he ordered. They shakily accepted the credits for the two meals. Gazes drifted away from Mando and quickly returned as he stood waiting for the meals to be prepared. A bell rang and he retrieved two warm containers, placing them in his bag alongside the snacks.

One last stop. The bracelets.

Marching through the food district, he came upon an intersection at which the left path led him to the clothing district. Yet again, his helmet pivoted on his neck from one side to another. 

The third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Mando continued his steady pace until the bright green stall came into view. The brightness of the exterior paint was exaggerated by the warm light emitted by lanterns, which decorated the outside of the shop. He didn’t notice before but the store sold children’s clothes. Onesies. Small shoes. Tiny hats.

A small tunic. Small enough for a human child younger than one year old. The tunic reminded him of Grogu’s. Mando’s bare hands brushed against the material countless times as he cradled The Child in his arms.

The last time he spoke about Grogu was with you. You listened and offered support. He’s never had anyone do that for him.

His visor turned to his left. The soft fairy lights of the stall reflected off of the beskar helmet on his head. As if the beskar reflected a dark sky decorated with bright stars. Various fabrics hung from the side of the vendor’s stall to cover the old wooden planks. Little accessories were placed throughout the shop on different tables and displays. 

Mando wasn’t focused on those items, he was focused on the long table of bracelets organized by color. His feet carried him to the green section. The helmet turned downwards to allow him to observe the selection. 

Shit.

There were so many bracelets similar to the pair you held, just all in different combinations of green, silver, and brown. Was it the bracelet with the large green cord and the small silver and brown threads? Or the one with the large silver cord and green and brown threads? Or thick brown cord with streaks of green and silver? His hands hovered over the options, doing his best to recall the details from earlier in the day.

“It’s this one,” a woman’s voice said.

A bit startled, the Mandalorian looked up and found a woman standing on the other side of the table. She wore long robes with intricate patterns. Jewelry decorated every limb and part of her body, like jewels were dripping down from her skin from a storm of gemstones. Hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. Her smile was kind and her gaze met Mando at his eyebrow.

A good try, he thought.

“I’m sorry?” He replies. She couldn’t possibly know which bracelet he was trying to find.

“You were watching them earlier. From across the street,” she let out faint exhales as she let out a short laugh, “Maybe you should hide a little better next time.” 

She reached out and picked two bracelets out of the display grid. “I remember the sizes too,” she said, “The person you watched held onto them for so long, they seemed pretty attached to them. I kept track of which bracelets they were just in case.” The robed woman shot him a friendly wink.

“In case of what?” Mando questioned. He was still in shock that the woman noticed him staring at you from across the street. 

The woman glanced up at him like that was a dumb question, “In case you came back to get them, Mandalorian. This isn’t my first day on the job.”

It saved him the time and stress of trying to remember which one it was, so he shrugged and watched the woman’s jewelry dangle as she typed onto the register. 

Beep. Beep. Beep beep. Ching.

“Okay sir, twenty credits please!” The woman extended her hand out and waited for Mando to place credits into her palm. She was met with the tilting of the black T shape on Mando’s beskar helmet. 

“I thought the price was thirty,” he stated as he began to reach into his pockets to retrieve his credits.

The woman let out another small laugh, “Oh, I suppose I should have made the sign larger,” her decorated fingers pointed to a small sign above the one that displays the bracelet prices.

$10 OFF WHEN YOU BUY TWO OR MORE

Mando’s shoulders dip in realization that you could’ve bought the bracelets in the first place. A sigh escapes his modulator and he hands the credits over to the intricately robed vendor. The credits clink into her palm, and then into the register.

He waits silently for her to package them up in a small bag. 

“They like you, you know,” the woman mentions, “No one like them would be deciding on which bracelets to buy for that long if they didn’t.” She paused as she was about to place the larger of the two into the small bag, “And look at the size of this one! It’s definitely for you.” 

The Mandalorian nods, “I appreciate that,” he pauses before turning away, “let’s hope they do.”

–

Mando sets a faster pace back to the Crest than the one he took from the Crest to the market. He’s impatient, he can’t wait to walk up the ramp and see your body curled up, comfortable and safe, while you sleep soundly in your bed–if you can even call it that, he thought. You usually went to bed early when he went on hunts, otherwise you would be awake talking to him.

Slipping the bag from his shoulder, an ungloved hand rummaged through the contents searching for a small bag. His fingers found the familiar texture and he pulled it out from between the snacks and the takeout. 

Mando slung the bag back over his shoulder, pulled the larger of the two bracelets out of the small bag, and slipped his hand through the ring of brown, silver, and green. Grabbing one of the ends with his fingers and pinning it to his palm, the other hand tightened the bracelet to a comfortable size around his wrist.

Once the small bag was returned to its place inside of the larger one, Mando peered around him to get a good look of his surroundings. 

The sun was about to set, leaving only a sliver of light available to provide dim light to the landscape. Rocks littered the ground. Shadows from each one making them appear larger in the light of the impending dusk. He reached up and tapped a finger to the temple of his helmet. No living thing was around him.

He paused and set the bag on the ground. Doing one last scan of the area, one of his hands gripped the chin of his helmet and lifted the beskar from his head. The hand held the helmet at his side while he marveled at his wrist.

He caught a good patch of remaining light and watched as the green and silver threads gleamed against the thick brown ones. The bracelet was beautiful. Not only because of the design, but because you picked it out. And it was for him.

Becoming paranoid, the Mandalorian quickly slipped his helmet back onto his head. He waited for the seal of the helmet to engage before continuing back towards the Crest. This time, at an even faster pace.

–

You sat there until you heard heavy footsteps approaching from outside, the hydraulics of the ramp coming to life. Thinking fast, you stood up and made your way towards the fresher to start your nighttime routine.

“Why are you still awake?” Mando’s voice was confused. He stood in front at the top of the ramp with his helmet tilted, hands resting on his hips, but his shoulders were slumped, a bag slung around one. He looked…worried.

Mando was right. Usually when he went on hunts you went to bed early. Nowadays the only thing that kept you awake was him. Talking with him was how you spent most evenings on the Crest, your voices echoed and bounced back to each other in the hull.

He’s used to seeing you curled up on the sleeping pad covered in blankets. Soft breaths came from your body and radiated throughout the Crest. Just like a minute ago, his footsteps would come up the ramp with his bounty in tow. Soft grunts could be heard kitty-corner from your spot in the hull. A hiss of mechanisms as they froze the bounty in carbonite. Then a bit of silence. 

The absence of the carbonite freezing stood out in your mind. No bounty, even when he said he was going to go and find one. Your eyes teared up slightly again as the realization truly set in. Mando really did go to the brothel.

You just wanted this night to be like any other night he came back to the Crest with a bounty.

After the bounty was frozen, heavy footsteps made their way across the floor of the hull. But they always stopped a few paces away from your bed, halting for a moment. Mando would complete his nightly routine. Setting the Crest’s coordinates for the next planet and showering in the fresher if he needed to–he usually did.

No matter what the events of his nightly routine were, it always ended with him standing in the doorway of his bunk–the sound of his footsteps always stopped partially inside.

“Good night, cyar'ika.”

You didn’t know what the Mando’a meant, since Mando never used that word around you, but you knew that the, “good night,” was all you needed to finally fall asleep.

You always waited up for him, only until reasonable hours of the night, of course, but he didn’t know it.

The sound of his footsteps in the present snapped you out of your hazy state. Crying really does a number on your brain.

“Just…couldn’t fall asleep,” you offered him a small smile as you pulled some products out of the tiny fresher cabinet. You wet your face and applied a small amount onto your fingertips, tapping them together for both hands to have the product. As you lifted your face and your hands to the mirror to begin washing your face, you were met with swollen lips, puffy eyes, and slight tear trails dried onto your face, despite the water you just splashed onto it. You froze.

There goes any of your chances to get away with how you spent your night. Staying up late staring at the Crest’s ramp. Waiting for Mando to come home. At least what you thought was home.

“What’s wrong?” Mando’s voice got clearer as he approached the fresher door. His strides long, footsteps clunking, as he removed his leather gloves and tucked the pair into his utility belt.

You went to turn away from him but he got there faster than you could. His ungloved hand rested on your shoulder, grip slow yet firm as he turned you to face him. He rubbed tiny circles onto your skin with his thumb once his eyes beneath the helmet noticed yours.

Your reflection on the silver beskar of his helmet stared back at you. Could you even get away with a lie at this point? What else would have made you cry? It’s not exactly like you could have said the truth either.

Oh yeah, I was sitting here having a panic attack as you participated in a perfectly normal service that is offered on this planet. Then I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you, and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.

Mando’s hand waved in front of your face and it brought you back into the present moment. “Did someone come onto the ship while I was gone?” His voice gritted out from the helmet’s modulator. 

“Maker, no,” you huffed and tried to look less suspicious, hoping he’ll just drop the topic.

“Then what is it?” He murmured, his modulator barely picking up his syllables. His wide shoulders took up most of the fresher’s door frame. The grip on your shoulder tightened slightly.

“It’s…I don’t think you’ll want to hear it.” You shrugged and repressed the heat of anxiety creeping down the back of your head. Turning to wash and dry your hands, you let out a sigh and started to walk towards the main open space of the hull. Your shoulder gently bumped him as you slid past his large frame in the doorway. 

Suddenly your hips were being snapped backwards and dragged back towards the fresher. His damn finger was in your belt loop again. 

He pulled you close to him, feeling the heat from his knuckle dig into your hip and spread throughout the rest of your body. His helmet leaned down to look you in the eye and tilted once again.

“Try me,” he paused. He brought his hand up to grip onto the valley where your neck meets your shoulder, slowly enough so you could back away if you so desired. His large palm and thick fingers were calloused and warm. The grip he had on you was still gentle, slightly squeezing. “You know you can tell me, right?”

You let a deep inhale permeate through your lungs. The words flowed through your individual cells. Thoughts of lying escaped your body with each breath. The debate inside your head would end. Whether he had those feelings for you or not.

“I got upset because you went to the brothel.” You told him. Lips trembling and eyes squinted open in an attempt to meet his gaze.

“The brothel?” He held both of your shoulders and brought his visor closer to your face. Thumbs rubbed your shoulders yet again. He sighed as your name left his lips and traveled through his helmet, “I didn’t go to a brothel tonight.” A titled T-shaped gaze met yours. You knew he was looking you in the eyes, and yours into his.

Brows furrowed, you sniffled slightly, “I-, I saw that condoms were on the market receipts.” The thumbs on your shoulders stopped, his chest didn’t rise and fall. He froze. You made Mando freeze. 

“Look I know I’m just being dramatic and paying for that kind of thing is completely normal. I just,” you trailed off and thought of a quick replacement for your worry, “I was worried you would get hurt there.”

Mando’s shoulders fell and his helmet cocked to the side. “What?” He questioned. “How would I get hurt? None of the workers there had weapons.”

“How would you know that if you didn’t go?” You whispered to him. Your gaze left his and it dropped to the shape in the center of his chestplate. The crystal shape rose up and down slowly.

“I got information on a bounty there earlier,” he sounded like he was talking to a hurt animal. Gentle. Slow. Calm. “What's the actual reason you’re upset?” 

Kriff it.

“I had a panic attack because I thought you went to the brothel. Maybe you would like the worker there more than you like me, I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you,” your chest heaved and as you listed off your previous thoughts of worry. Your hands shook as they landed on top of Mando’s, and you took a deep breath, eyes meeting his gaze like before, “and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.”

Mando is quick. He flipped his hands to grab one of yours and tugged you into the hull. Kneeling, he opened a cloth bag, one from the market, and dug into it to search for something. 

He actually went to the night market. You thought, now you look so clingy. So needy. He was just going to show you what he got to prove he went.

He turned and held his hand out. Sitting on top of the golden skin on his palm was a bracelet.

The bracelet from the market.

“I saw you looking at these, you looked for a long time and then put them down,” He stood up and set his gait to slow steps as he made his way over to you.

You laughed nervously, accompanied by a small sniffle, “Sorry yeah, I know I just should have been getting the stuff we needed. You didn’t have to go back and get it for-.” Mando raised a finger to halt your speech and continued what he was saying previously, “you put them down. You had two bracelets.”

“They had lots of them that I liked…I had two that were a tie and I just decided to get neither-.” Mando cut you off again.

“You were holding one bracelet consistently and then picked another in a bigger size,” you froze at his words. Dank farrik. Now he was going to think you’re super clingy. 

“I wasn't completely sure who you wanted to wear the bracelet, but I took a guess.” He pulled his long sleeve past his elbow and revealed his bare forearm. Strong. Capable. Solid. And a matching bracelet was donned on his wrist.

Your cheeks radiated with heat as he took your wrist and put your bracelet on you. His warm fingertips brushed the soft skin of your wrist, sending chills throughout your body at the meticulous skin-on-skin contact. 

Once the bracelet was secure around your wrist, Mando dipped his head and looked down at the floor. One of his hands gripped the underside of his helmet, and the other held onto your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat at the gesture. He quickly lifted his helmet to release his mouth, and he pressed three kisses on your wrist where the bracelet was. Mando’s lips were soft and timid, his hand caressing the skin on yours. Silver from his beskar helmet blocked your view, but Mando sealed his helmet and brought his eyes underneath the visor to look into yours.

“This means everything to me.”

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

[raygunny]

Tav Goes Missing

Ok uh holy shit this is long, I hope you all like it - it was a labor of love 💙

Based on my prompt by the same name

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Tav

Word count: 7,556

Synopsis: Tav is under a lot of pressure - she’s suddenly been shoved into leading a team of parasite infested misfits, everything seems to want to kill them, and a certain vampire has been on her mind far too much. She needs some time away from camp, but while venturing out on her own she gets hurt - and even worse, stuck. Who will come to her rescue?

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

Trudging back to camp Tav feels a heaviness descend upon her. In her body, sure, but that’s an unavoidable fact of life at this point. More so her mind feels weary, and she’s pretty sure it’s not the parasite’s doing. At least not this time.

There’s been an anxiety hovering over her, one that only seems to kick in as they return each evening. The events of the day and the many before catching up with her as she enters the safety of camp. She should be relieved each time they make it back with all their limbs still attached, but lately, she just feels dread.

Tav feels somewhat guilty at the thought.

It’s been a pleasant surprise how much she’s enjoyed traveling with her new companions. Who would have thought that being in constant danger and sharing a psychic tadpole would be so effective in bonding them together?

If she’s being honest, though - it can be a bit much at times. There’s always some crisis, some literal life-ending problem popping up at the worst time. Really it doesn't matter what it is, Tav knows she can't bring herself to let any of them to deal with it alone. She knows that feeling all too well.

And truly, she is happy to have people around who need her and who she needs. Who enjoys her as she enjoys them.

So then why do I always feel so alone still?

Tav dismisses the thought. It’s not their fault, everything has been too much recently. Too much fighting, too much talking - trying to save their skin at every turn from some new, twisted form of danger. During the day she has no other option but to stay strong, to push the anxieties away. Failing at that means risking the safety of the whole party.

Upon their return to camp, all those thoughts suddenly come racing back. Sometimes it feels impossible to shut them off - and she needs to figure out how to shut them off. Even within the bounds of camp she knows she needs to be their unwavering leader. Sure of herself and them - carrying none of the doubts and fears that keep running through her mind. 

She just needs a minute to think - to breathe. Some space would do her well, just for a couple hours so she can get this out of her system. As tempting as it is to wander off without saying anything, she convinces herself to check in with the others.

“What can I do to help?” Tav asks as she approaches Gale. He’s building a fire, preparing to cook dinner.

Gale looks up, “Well, well - if it isn’t our fearless leader!” Tav winces a little at that. 

He doesn’t notice, glancing around, “Hmm, I think most of it is covered. I suppose we need firewood? And about this much kindling.” He holds his arms out making a circle away from his body. She resists the urge to roll her eyes, he could’ve just said an armful. “There’s enough to get us through cooking dinner, but we won’t have enough into the night.”

Shadowheart is nearby, helping Gale with dinner by chopping carrots. She pipes up, “I just saw Karloch with her axe heading towards the other side of camp. I think she’s going to chop some wood for us.”

Tav surveys the rest of their camp. Wyll is by the communal chest, focused on going through their inventory, trying to organize everything they’ve gathered in the last few days. Hopefully they’ll be going to the market tomorrow to sell some items and pick up some much needed supplies. She’s relieved, silently thanking Wyll - her brain could not handle that task right now.

Next to him is Lae’zel, who like clockwork can be found cleaning and sharpening her weapons each evening. She’s doing just that. Tav smiles as she notices Wyll’s sword and one of Karloch’s many axes at her feet.

Lately, Lae’zel has taken to helping the rest of the camp keep their weapons in top condition. Slowly but surely beginning to open up to them - in her own way of course. “You take such poor care of your blade. You clearly are unsuited for such a task, I will take it to my tent and return it to you later,” she says, her face giving away nothing. But Tav sees how she pays attention, how she knows who needs their weapons taken care of on any given evening.

Gale interrupts her train of thought, “Sounds like that leaves kindling Tav, do you want to grab some? Dinner won’t be ready for a while.” He starts talking about the stew he’s making and stresses that it needs an absolute minimum cooking time of two hours for optimal tenderness and flavor. He starts complaining about how they haven’t had a hot meal in far too long. 

It’s been like a day, Tav sighs internally. That’s fine, it just means she’s got plenty of time to burn.

“Patience is a virtue,” Gale finishes, holding one finger up. Turning it towards himself he continues with a grin, “And I’m quite virtuous”. She’s amused but won’t let him see it, he’s been incorrigible lately. 

Her stomach rumbles loudly. She, on the other hand, is not particularly virtuous it would seem. Fishing out an apple and some bread from her larger pack, she makes purposeful eye contact with Gale and raises her eyebrows. He shakes his head chuckling a little and turns back to building the campfire. She stashes the snacks in her satchel, she won’t be gone that long but it doesn’t hurt to have on hand.

“I’ll go get the kindling, I might be a little while though.” Gale waves a hand in her direction and just tells her to have fun.

Tav goes to change into her camp clothes and as she strips off her shirt she notices a tear in the sleeve. It’s going to need to be mended. She grabs it and heads towards Astarion’s tent.

As far as camp duties go, Astarion typically gets away with minimal work - instead focusing on looking pretty while reading one of his many books. He swears up and down that he’s doing it for research purposes, “You never know what kind of helpful information can be found until you find it, darling. If you think about it, I’m doing the most arduous work here! Now shoo.”

Occasionally, he can be convinced to mend clothing and the like. She approaches Astarion’s tent, knowing there’s about a 50/50 chance she’ll be able to talk him into fixing it for her. Better than it used to be, she thinks with a smirk.

Seeing the shirt in her hands as she walks up, Astarion doesn’t even wait before he says, “Oh no you don’t - you better not be coming over here with that. I’ve already mended plenty of clothing this week! It’s getting ridiculous really, I hadn’t realized I’d become the camp seamstress,” he huffs. “I mean honestly Tav, can’t you tell I’ve got plenty of reading to do,” he gestures to the books haphazardly stacked next to him. She can see the smile he’s trying to hide and knows he’ll do it for her if she chooses her next words carefully.

“I don’t see those books going anywhere anytime soon, Astarion.” Her eyes flick to his, “Plus, I’ll make it worth your while, I promise,” she says, knowing he’ll take the bait.

“Worth my while?” the corners of his lips twitch before revealing the smile he had tried hiding. She very much enjoys those smiles, the ones he doesn't mean to let slip. “I like the sound of that”, he purrs, effortlessly switching into a more flirtatious tone.

She steals one of his moves - a quick look up and down, as if shamelessly admiring his beauty while simultaneously sizing him up. Bringing her eyes to his, she flirts back with, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, handsome. We’ll have to see how good of a job you do before we work out payment.”

“That hardly sounds fair,” he fake pouts.  

Time to appeal to his more practical side, “Besides, you need to make yourself look busy before you get pulled into doing something more labor intensive by the others.”

He strokes his chin thoughtfully before making up his mind, “Fine, I suppose you can’t keep walking around looking like a slob. Hand it here.” She goes to hand it over and he brushes his long fingers across hers purposefully. That flirtatious tone comes back, “And don’t forget, you owe me.”

She almost rolls her eyes, but reminds herself she had encouraged it. Sometimes he can be so frustrating. One second he’s there, present and having a good time, then something happens and she sees one of his many masks slip into place. It was difficult to spot at first, but now that she’s gotten to know him better, it’s hard not to notice. Tav still can’t pin down the why - it seems so random at times. Despite her curiosity, she doesn’t call him out on it. She’s gathered enough bits and pieces to know it’s not the kind of subject that leads to an easy conversation.

And to be fair, it is fun to flirt back and forth with him.

“See, was that so hard?” she teases before turning away. Waving over her shoulder she throws out a quick, “Thank you Astarion!” and is off.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters back, lost in thought, eyes still glued to her as she walks away.

Tav knows he won’t say it, but he likes people coming to him, needing his help. At least in this kind of way. The small, satisfied smile he has on his face when she examines his handiwork and praises him for the quality of it - “Wow, good as new!” - is all she needs to know.

She heads towards the edge of camp. Sure enough, Karloch is going to town on the surprisingly large tree limb she’d carried back a couple days ago. Tav catches Karloch’s eye just as her greataxe finds itself driven into the wood once again. Karloch waves, yelling out, “Just letting off some steam!” with a proud smile on her face. “Pun fully intended!”

Tav just chuckles and waves back.

----

It’s turning into a pleasantly cool evening, the sun will set in the next few hours but that gives her plenty of time to gather wood at her leisure - relishing the alone time this affords her.

She knows where she wants to go and starts heading that direction. They passed a cave the other day, but despite her pleas the others didn’t want to explore it, saying they were too tired. Tav suspects none of them are going to be interested in going back so she figures, if she has to go pick up sticks, then might as well do it somewhere interesting.

Her mind begins to wander. Thinking about the events of the last few days, dissecting a recent fight with some Harpies near the grove.

They’d caught the party by surprise. It was a rough start to the encounter. Shadowheart, who was closest to the beasts, immediately fell into a trance, charmed by their song. Karloch wasn’t in an ideal position either, too far from the harpies to charge them but also too low down for her ranged attacks to be effective. She settled for stepping in front of the child to create the best tiefling shield she could. That was good thinking on her part, Tav notes.

Tav and Gale caught each other’s eyes and silently agreed to move towards higher ground. Both scrambling up the opposite sides of the embankment, ready to use their ranged spells.

Despite the initial disadvantage, they were making good progress handling the beasts. That is, until two more flew in - this time heading straight for them. One descended on Gale, kicking him square in the chest. He was thrown off the embankment right as he used a fireball scroll to finish off the harpy singing across the water.

Thankfully, that broke Shadowheart’s trance and she quickly oriented herself to cast silence on the two harpies closest to her, a much welcomed relief. With the third preoccupied - trying to stomp Gale into the ground albeit - at least they didn’t have to worry about being charmed for now.

An arrow wizzes by, finding its way into the neck of the harpy attacking Gale. Astarion had tagged along that day as their fifth member, saying something about how dreadfully bored he was and that he needed to go to the market. It was a good thing Tav let him, he was the one really covering their asses at the moment. He had secured a hiding spot high on the nearby cliffs and relentlessly fired arrow after arrow, crippling their enemies from the shadows. With the one near Gale now critically wounded, Astarion immediately turned to shoot the one closing in on Shadowheart - it dropped right out of the air, hitting the ground hard. Tav sees it from the corner of her eye, nice one.

Karloch, happy to finally be able to properly hit the damn things, finishes off the one standing over Gale with a quick swing of her axe. She then proceeds to run to the now badly injured harpy lying on the ground, a fury of ruthless swings befall it and it soon lies still, thoroughly dead. The final harpy screeches and takes flight, in the next second Tav is pinned. She tried to free herself but was running on fumes, already hurt pretty badly. Astarion is the one who drives two arrows into its back, killing it before it can get another swipe on her. Shadowheart, out of breath but generally unhurt, runs over and proceeds to heal everyone. After almost getting their asses handed to them, they really needed it.

“What in the nine hells was that all about?!” Astarion yells, only sounding slightly hysterical. “I was practically carrying the whole team just now!” His pitch somehow increases, “And I’m not even supposed to be here!!”

They collectively groan. Rubbing her sore shoulder Tav just says, “Not now Astarion. We weren’t expecting to fight on this side of the grove.”

He scoffs, “Really though, is that how you all fight when I’m not here? Next time try to be a little more perceptive. You’re extremely lucky I came along today. I can’t always be the one saving you from danger!”

Tav glares at him, about to argue. Instead, Karloch steps in to defuse the strange tension that’s begun to form between the two of them. She smiles cheerfully, “Of course you can soldier, that was some top notch fighting out there.” Looking at the others she says, “Shall we head back to camp?” Her tone is light but they can tell it’s an order, not a question.

Shaking herself out of the daydream, Tav smiles - despite the ambush and the drama, the team had worked well together. They’ve been working well together for a while now, she reflects. In this relatively short amount of time, they really have fallen into a good rhythm. Learning to trust each other and adapting their fighting styles to compliment one another. Thinking back to what camp looks like right now, she realizes it’s not just battle they’ve fallen into a good rhythm with either. She feels a little bit better at the thought.

Slowing down Tav takes a moment to re-orient herself - she hadn’t realized how far she’d walked. The cave should be nearby but she’s not sure. Up ahead there's an overturned tree stump, they’d passed it the same day she spotted the cave. She relaxes, it shouldn’t be much further. 

Marching on, the cool air has gotten even cooler, starting to feel heavy with moisture. The trees are swaying gently as the wind picks up, their leaves fluttering above her.

It’s going to rain, she realizes.

To her disappointment, there will be no time to explore the cave today. She turns to head back to camp, miffed about walking all this way for nothing, but knowing she’ll need to pick up her pace if she’s going to get back before it rains. She considers leaving without the wood, after all, they’re probably not going to be able to keep the fire going tonight with the rain. She decides against it, they’ll need dry kindling for the morning.

The storm clouds are rolling in and have darkened the sky, by proxy the forest darkens as well. This is not good, Tav thinks. She really needs to pick up the pace now. Her arms are completely full of twigs and branches, making it difficult to walk. She stops, shifting to get a better grip. It’s hard to see over the pile in her arms and the light is fading fast.

She should've just grabbed wood near camp then went exploring. She mentally kicks herself.

As Tav begins to hurry along again, she doesn’t get very far. A tree root jutting out of the earth finds itself in her path. She doesn’t see it and as she steps forward, directly on the root, her right ankle gives out. As Tav swings towards the dirt, she lets out a startled, “SHIT”.

She finds herself not just hitting the ground, but tumbling down into the ditch she’d been walking along. A fiery pain shoots up her leg. Tav groans as she rolls over and sits upright. Taking stock of herself, she tries moving her ankle but that intensifies the pain. Yeah, that’s messed up for sure. She reaches up to her brow where she feels a trickle of something wet. She brushes her fingers over the area and winces at the sting of a small cut. It’s bleeding, but that’s the least of her worries right now.

She takes a deep breath to calm herself. Getting back to camp will not be fun, but she’ll have to try her best. The wood is a lost cause, strewn about in a rough pile on the ground. She tries to gain her composure before attempting to prop herself against the side of the ditch. It’s a steep incline, she’ll need to stand to have a chance to pull herself out. She tries several times to shift to a better position, but with her right foot dangling uselessly she’s not going anywhere this way. The pain in her ankle is no joke, but she’s been hurt way worse than this before and kept going. It’ll be okay, she tells herself.

Her optimism is met with rain. The universe makes it clear that it is staunchly opposed to giving her a break today. It’s only sprinkling for now, but the incline out of the ditch is only going to get slicker.

----

Back at camp the others begin to wonder where she’s at. It's getting dark and they’ve noticed the rain clouds too. They’re gathered near the fire, discussing what they should do. “She said she might be a while,” Gale chimes in, “I bet she’ll be back any minute now. She’s not going to want to miss my delicious stew.” It’s a hopeful statement, but his voice still carries a tinge of worry. 

Karloch frowns, “I don’t know Gale, she should be back by now. Gathering kindling doesn’t take that long, even if she was taking herself for a little walk.”

“Yeah, plus it’s about to rain.” Wyll backs her up.

While the group continues debating if they should go look for her or wait just a little longer, Astarion is quiet. He’s been painfully aware of the approaching rainstorm and how long it’s been since she left, but he also knows Tav is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. 

Though...they did see some juvenile gnolls the other day, but never found their den - he can’t shake the thought, something else occurring to him - shit and she probably ventured out to that damn cave she was going on about the other day.

He tries to push away the worry in the pit of his stomach, but those two thoughts make up his mind. “You lot do whatever you want - I’m not sitting around here any longer to wait until it starts pouring to go look for her,” he says, storming off in the direction she had exited camp. He hears Karloch and Wyll volunteer to go look too, splitting down different paths to cover more ground.

Astarion heads in the general direction of the cave. It’s a much farther walk than he was expecting, several times doubting if he was going in the right direction. Soon it starts raining lightly, and to his annoyance his nice clothes are getting wet, his poor shoes muddying as well. Ugh, and his hair must look a mess. He combs a hand through it, pushing it back and off his face. If Tav is back at camp right now and he’s out here for nothing he’s going to be pissed. With the path getting muddier by the minute, he considers heading back. The gnolls flash through his mind and a feeling of dread rises inside his chest.

No, not quite yet, he thinks.

Soon he sees the large stump they’d passed the other day - he’s getting close. Astarion keeps an eye out for any signs of Tav, soon coming across a rough pile of sticks down in a ditch. It looks suspiciously like someone had gathered wood and then chucked it down there. Looking a little closer he sees what appears to be drag marks moving away from the pile. Shit, that’s not good. The dread turns into real fear. Now he’s certain Tav has to be nearby.

“Tav?” he calls out loudly before he can stop himself. After all, someone or something nefarious could be lurking about. That thought is interrupted by Tav’s relieved voice calling back, “Astarion, is that you?”

Duh, he thinks, who else sounds like him? He hurries in the direction of her voice. She’s not far.

When he spots her, his throat feels tight. She looks an absolute mess - covered in mud, scratches down her chest and arms, and her head is bleeding. He rushes over and climbs down to her. “What in the hells are you doing down here? What happened? Are you ok?” He starts looking her over, positive she can hear the worry in his voice, but he doesn't care about that right now.

He looks rather disheveled, Tav observes. The rain has picked up and his hair is wet and matted to his head, his shoes and now his pants covered in mud. His shirt clings to his chest, slightly translucent from the rain. She’s never quite seen him like this. Focus Tav, she thinks.

“I hurt myself and couldn’t get out of the ditch,” she grimaces, gesturing to her ankle. “I was trying to drag myself to higher ground in case a flash flood came through here.”

“Well, that’s one smart thing you did.”

Tav wants to be offended, but now is not the time. She can see he’s upset - whether it’s at her or the situation she’s not sure. “Did you bring any healing supplies?” she asks hopefully. 

He deflates, “Uhhh no, those seem to have, uh, evaded me.”

She just looks up at the sky, fat raindrops falling on her face, cursing whatever deity has it out for her today. 

“What? Don't be like that. I rushed out of camp and came all this way through the rain and the wretched mud to rescue you.” He frowns. “Of course it would've been ideal if I had thought to grab a healing potion or two but..” trailing off there’s nothing else to say except, “I’m here alright??”

She lets out a sigh, “Just please get me out of this ditch before you get stuck down here too.”

She doesn't need to tell him twice. Astarion bends down and without warning throws Tav over his shoulder in one smooth motion. He’d already come to terms with the fact that he’s going to be covered in mud by the time they get out of here. She lets out a startled yelp. “Shit, Tav, I’m sorry - did I hurt you?” She can hear the worry creep back into his voice.

She feels a bit lightheaded, “Ah, no. You just surprised me. Didn’t expect to be hauled over your shoulder like a rag doll,” she tries to play it off with a joke, but it just comes out lamely. In actuality, she didn’t think he could lift her like that - but she won’t dare say that. He’s strong, don’t get her wrong, but not the Karloch or Lae’zel type of strong. It’s kind of impressive actually.

“Honestly Tav, if you’re going to keep criticizing my rescue attempt I can leave you right here.” While he is genuinely annoyed, they both know he doesn’t mean it one bit.

“No no, you’re doing a great job hero-ing it up. Please just get me out of here, I’m tired of sitting in the mud.”

He doesn’t even justify that with a response, instead taking a few steps forward and shifting her so he can boost her up to grab another tree root. She has to push up with both legs for a moment and she lets out an actual cry from the pain.

This is awful, Astarion thinks.

She makes it and he pulls himself up right behind her, she is grimacing in pain on her hands and knees. Astarion puts a hand on her back and her arm around his neck, helping her up to stand on one foot.

The rain is quickly turning into a downpour and it’s almost fully dark now. Now what? Try to carry her back to camp, through the mud and rain? He doesn’t think that’s an option at this point. They need to find shelter.

“You were out here looking for that damn cave weren’t you?” he asks. 

She looks at him sheepishly, “Yeah it should be just past those trees.” She points to a nearby cluster of trees. “Are you thinking about sheltering there until the rain passes?”

He doesn’t answer her question, just scoops her up in his arms and starts walking.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she says, but doesn’t give him any more attitude than that. She’s starting to feel bad, knowing that this is not what Astarion had planned for his evening. 

He just keeps looking forward, trying not to think about how nice she feels in his arms. She’s shivering, but compared to him she’s so warm against his chest. It feels good, clearing away some of the worry that's been knotting in there for the last couple hours. Relief, he supposes, unconsciously holding her a little tighter.

They reach the cave and he sets her down gently on a rock right inside the entrance. He peers further into the cave, obviously wondering if they’re the only occupants, the threat of gnolls popping back into his head. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he quietly makes his way further in. Astarion returns a couple minutes later and reports there’s nothing else in there with them. He picks Tav up again and carries her further into a larger, dryer portion of the cave.

She spots a bedroll in decent condition, discarded near what looks to have been an extinguished campfire. Some wood even remained stacked next to it. Someone must have been here recently.

“Do you think anyone will be coming back?” she asks, pointing to the firewood.

Astarion sets her down again, this time on the ground so she can lean against the wall. “No, I don’t think so. There’s too many cobwebs covering that pile, I doubt anyone has been here for a while.”

She agrees and relaxes a little. Her ankle is throbbing in pain, she’s really noticing how bad it is now that they’re in relative safety. Sounds about right, she thinks, shivering again. 

Astarion looks at her, lips pressed together as if to keep himself from saying what’s really on his mind. How unusual.

“You’re drenched and disgusting.” 

Ah. There it is. She fires back, “Well you’re not much better off, pal.”

His frown deepens. “Very observant Tav, that is in fact correct,” he hisses. His voice rises dramatically, echoing through the cave, “AND who’s fault might that be?”

Yikes, ok, she needs to cool it with the comments. He is understandably not in the mood for her shit right now. It’s just so hard to resist poking at him, she likes it when he gets riled up. And usually he does too, though he hides his amusement the best he can.

He takes a breath, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Looking at the ceiling of the cave as if asking, why me?  

“Look, I’m not going to catch a cold but you might,” he finally says, and she fears that frown on his face isn’t going away anytime soon.

“We can build a fire while waiting for the storm to pass,” she pauses before asking, “You can build a fire, right?”

She’s on thin ice. He huffs, “In theory, yes. In practice, I’m not sure. That’s usually Gale’s job.”

She knows he just needs some encouragement. “I think I have a flint in my satchel, grab it and I can walk you through it.” He turns and does so without any complaints - that’s also odd for him, she notes.

Once the fire is going she can see Astarion relax a little. Tav looks down at her muddy clothing. Astarion looks at her again, “You should probably take your clothes off.” 

Tav understands what he’s saying, but still she jokes in a scandalized voice, “Astarion, now is hardly the time for that.” He rolls his eyes and she gets the tiniest smile out of him. She knew it, he can’t help himself either. She holds her hands up in peace, “Sorry, just trying to lighten up a pretty shit situation.”

Astarion shakes out the abandoned bedroll, ripping a strip of fabric from its bottom layer. He then lays it down near the fire. It’s not ideal but better than lying on the uncomfortable cave floor. “And I love that for you, darling, but excuse me if I’m still feeling a little on edge.”

There’s no real venom behind the words. That guilty feeling creeps back up on Tav. “Hey, I’m really sorry about this. I-”

He’s not ready to talk about it yet, interrupting her by saying, “At least take your pants off so I can look at your ankle.”

Tav gives up, she won’t argue this time. Moving to undo her pants she says, “I’m going to need some help with these. They’re soaked and I’m not the most…mobile right now.” She looks up at him, her exhaustion is starting to show, “Please?”

Something flashes across his face, a look she hasn’t seen before. It stays put this time, no flirtatious words or familiar mask taking its place. He moves closer, leaning down.

“Grab my shoulders,” he says, his tone a little gruffer than she’s used to. Tav does as he says, wrapping her arms around his neck. One of his arms wraps around her waist while the other hand travels up the back of her right thigh, holding that leg steady so she doesn’t have to put any pressure on it while he stands her up. 

Clinging to him as he lifts her off the ground, her face finds its way into his neck. She exhales and can feel a shiver run down his body. Tav was not expecting whatever this is. Her heart rate picks up and she can feel a blush spread down her neck. 

Astarion moves them towards where he laid out the bedroll. He doesn’t lay her down but instead continues to hold her tightly. He moves his leg between hers, removing his hand from her thigh and bracing her against his own, so her hurt leg still dangles a little off the ground. She feels tingly and a little lightheaded, she’s quick to blame it on the fact that she hasn’t eaten much tonight.

The arm wrapped around her waist helps keep her up while the other moves to her waistband. He pulls back and looks at her for permission, all she can do is nod breathlessly. He maneuvers his fingers gently into her waistband, sliding her pants past her butt and down to her thighs as far as he can go.

“I’m going to set you down now.” He places his hand on the back of her thigh again and begins lowering her back down. His voice still sounds a little strange.

She’s stunned - what the hell was that.

He doesn’t say anything else as he continues on, gently pulling her boots off first, her pants soon following. He makes sure to be especially careful with her injured foot. Her ankle is already swollen and a concerning shade of purple.

“What do you think doc?”, she breaks the tension in the air. 

He clears his throat, his voice sounds normal again as he says, “Tsk, I don’t think you’re going to make it.” He shakes his head solemnly, “Such a shame - before all of this you were my favorite one at camp.”

He doesn’t leave her any time to retort before standing up to go lay out her pants on the other side of the fire. It won’t fix how muddy they are but it will dry them out. “Do you want to dry your shirt too, or no? I can always, ahem, help with that if needed.”

Tav can see the mask reforming, whatever happened moments ago slipping away. Don’t go, she thinks - instead she says, “No need, I’ve had you do enough for one day.” She only feels a little shy as she takes it off, tossing it over to him. He follows suit, stripping his shirt off, but briefly hesitating before slipping his pants off as well. He’s practically never the shy one, it’s something he’s done thousands of times - but with Tav he suddenly feels vulnerable.

Something in the air still feels weird between them. Tav can’t think of anything to say except, “Nice undies.” She apparently just cannot help herself with the comments today.

That charming face is fully back on. Deflecting, he makes a comment about her getting lost out here to seduce him. “All you had to do was ask and we could both be in my tent, in a similar state of undress, nice and warm right now.”

She looks at him and blurts out, “Why do you do that?”

His face drops for a second. “What do you mean?”

“Your face, it..changes sometimes, like you’re flipping a switch.” She hesitates before adding, “Or putting on a mask.”

“I’m not exactly sure what you’re getting at..” he starts to say, but he’s tired and decides to be somewhat honest. She’s certainly being direct with him. “Well, I suppose when you’re as pretty as I am dear, people expect a little flirtation.” He looks down at Tav, trying to get a read on her after asking him such a strange question. “Usually it’s welcomed, but...I mean, if you’re uncomfortable I can tone it down.” 

She shakes her head, “I don’t mind per se, but I feel weird sometimes because it doesn’t always seem authentic.”

Shit, she’s way more perceptive than I thought.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way, but..” she trails off for a second. “You do know we can just be friends, right? I don’t need you to flirt with me to like you, Astarion.”

Now he really doesn’t know what to say.

“Why?” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth.

“Why would I like you even when you’re not flirting with me?”

“Yes, that’s usually what everyone wants.”

She’s starting to understand a little better now, so she says, “Well, I guess I don’t particularly want anything from you, Astarion.”

Ah, there it is, so she just doesn’t want him around in general. He can’t even lie to himself - it stings a little bit. He’s not used to being rejected, especially not by someone he actually gives a shit about. He laughs louder than he means to, “Well I can’t fathom why my company isn’t wanted - I’m a delight, if I do say so myself - but if you want me to leave then so be it. I can go and grab the others now that you’re in a safe place.”

She’s slightly baffled by his response, “What? No, Astarion, I do want you around. I just mean I will take what you’ll give me. I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want to give.” 

Ok, now she’s really not making sense. What does that even mean? He tries to hide his confusion. “Ah ok I see...but why?” he asks again. This time there’s curiosity behind it - instead of an accusation in the form of a question.

She shrugs, “Do I need a reason? I enjoy you Astarion. I like your company, you’re fun to talk to. We’re friends, and friends don’t have to do anything for each other. We can just be.”

He doesn’t say anything so she continues, “I admire you in a lot of ways - how you speak your mind, your sense of humor, the way you indulge me when I’m being annoying.” She sees an amused look form on his face and she smiles, “How you make me feel protected.” Oh no, it’s getting too serious now - she recovers, “I mean, your proclivity for violence definitely comes in handy.” Her eyes swing to his with a mischievous look on her face. 

She hadn’t even mentioned anything about my looks, Astarion thinks, digesting her words. He’s practically naked too. Usually he would feel offended, but this time it feels..nice. “We’re friends?” It’s the only thing he can think to say.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

This is not how he imagined this conversation, let alone this night, going. He decides it’s his turn now, “Well if we’re friends then let me ask you a question.”

Tav raises one eyebrow, “Go on.”

“Why did you go off all this way by yourself? And don’t you dare say it was just to explore this awful cave - there’s more to it.” Astarion knows he’s right. After all, Tav’s not the only one good at reading people.

Tav sighs. “I guess I’ve just been very overwhelmed lately. I needed some time away, to sort through my thoughts and figure shit out. Just exist without the weight of the world on my shoulders for a little bit.”

Astarion ponders that for a second then says, “I may not have the most experience in this arena, but isn’t that the kind of thing friends help out with? ‘Venting’, I think they call it.” She snorts and he continues, “Everyone is always coming to you, but you never come to us.”

He’s not sure if he should say this next part, “You say I have a mask, but I see yours too.”

He’s not wrong, she thinks. “I don’t know, everyone else just has these big huge things going on and I’m just..here. How could I not help?”

He rephrases his statement into a question, “Ok yes, but why do you feel the need to help literally every single person you come into contact with, yet still can’t ask for it in return?”

She looks at her hands, another sigh escaping her lips, “Probably because I’m used to handling my own problems by myself.”

The thought of her being alone is surprising to him. Tav seems like the kind of person who has lots of friends back home. She’s funny and charismatic, always taking care of others - he can’t think of one reason why she wouldn’t have people eager to be her friend. He’s not going to dig further into that at the moment, he senses it’s not what she needs right now.

“I may not know much about friendship, but I do happen to know a few things about loneliness.” He sits down facing her, gingerly propping her hurt leg up in his lap and carefully begins to wrap her ankle with fabric he tore from the bedroll. His bedside manner isn’t the worst she’s experienced. “Back in Baldur’s Gate I couldn’t let myself get close to anyone. If I did, they would just become another weakness for Cazador to exploit against me.” His face twists, “And honestly, people weren’t exactly lining up looking for friendship from me.” He keeps going, “What I do know is the last several weeks traveling in a team has been…good. I feel lighter, safer. Like I can actually somewhat enjoy my days, even when you all are acting insufferable.”

He just had to throw that last part in there, Tav thinks - letting out a small chuckle. She doesn’t care, she’s just happy to hear him open up to her like this. She feels less alone.

He moves his hand to her shin, not even thinking as he nervously rubs small circles into her skin. “And Tav, I attribute most of that to you.”

Her breath catches for a second at the look on his face, she can tell he means it when he says, “I may not be the best at it, but I want to be here for you as well.” He clears his throat. “So you need to get it together and start relying on your friends.”

Her face is on fire, but she tries to play it cool. Once again, she was not expecting that at all. 

“What I’m hearing you say is that you do like me after all,” she teases him, a grin on her face now.

He groans in response, “Don’t make me regret this.”

They both sit in silence for a minute, each thinking about what the other said.

“So hypothetically, what if I wanted to keep flirting with you?” Astarion asks, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

She laughs, of all things that’s what he wants to circle back to? “If you want to flirt with me, I’m all for it - but only if you hypothetically really want to.” She tries to read his face.

He looks at her now, eyes straying to her lips. She’s so beautiful in the light of the fire. Hair wet, cheeks rosy, eyes sparkling with amusement. Even slightly scratched up and muddy, she's a vision. He can’t stop himself, “And what if..what if I wanted to kiss you?”

Tav's heart is racing so fast that she can feel her own pulse. What is going on today? First the worst luck she’s had in a while, and now this? The universe is messing with her.

Time to put her cards on the table. She wants to show him she’s sure about him - sure about whatever the hell is going on right now. “I would welcome it.”

He moves her leg gently, placing it back on the ground. In the next moment he’s moved up next to her, studying her face the whole time. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

His eyes are so round and soft - the softest expression she's ever seen on his face. His voice is much lower now, "What if I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Looking to his lips and then back at his eyes, she leans towards him. Only a breath away now, Tav whispers, “Then I would kiss you back.”

And with that he closes the distance, her lips are so soft and warm that it makes him shiver. His tongue swipes against her bottom lip and she welcomes him. It’s not fair how good she tastes. His hands come up to cup both sides of her face and he kisses her more deeply. Her head is swimming, it’s by far one of the most passionate kisses she’s ever received.

He pulls back, slightly breathless, and moves his face to rest against her cheek. “I was really worried about you today.” It's a confession. 

She doesn’t move, just says, “I know,” and brings her hand to cup the back of his neck. She can feel the tension there. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“Anytime.”

And she knows he means it.

--

--

--

--

Bonus:

“Ok but seriously, where are the others at? They just let you venture off alone to rescue me?”

He shrugs, “I know at least Karloch and Wyll also went out looking, but I’m sure they’re back at camp by now.”

“What about the others?” 

“They just don’t like you as much as I do apparently.” he cracks a mischievous smile.

“That’s messed up.” She says, but she’s laughing. He loves it when she laughs.

Astarion chuckles, “I can tell you that Gale’s probably making love to his stew right about now.”

Tav shakes her head still smiling, “That sounds painful.”

[bunnysnuff]

A distance.

Pairing: poly!nick nelson x m!reader x Charlie spring.

Trigger warnings: none, long distance relationships.

Pt 2.

Request.

You sit in your new apartment, surrounded by unpacked boxes and the vibrant sounds of the city outside. It’s a bit overwhelming, but you feel a rush of excitement as you pull out your phone, ready to record a vlog for Nick and Charlie.

“Hey, guys!” you begin, your energy bubbling over. “So, I finally got my place sorted! Check out this view.” You turn the camera to capture the bustling street below, filled with colorful shops and people. “I miss you both so much, but I’m thinking about you all the time!”

As the video continues, you stroll through your new neighborhood, stopping to film a colorful market. “Look at all these fresh fruits! You’d love this, Nick—so many options for smoothies. I’m definitely trying to recreate our favorites!”

You laugh, imagining Nick’s excited reaction, then move to a small park nearby. “And look at this park! It’s perfect for those long chats we used to have. I can’t wait to bring you both here someday.”

Later that evening, you nestle onto your bed, surrounded by fairy lights that give the space a cozy glow. It’s late for you, but early morning for Nick and Charlie. You dial their number, your heart fluttering at the thought of hearing their voices.

After a few rings, Nick picks up, still half-asleep. “Hey!” he yawns, rubbing his eyes. “You’re up late?”

“Yeah, I wanted to catch you before my day starts!” you reply, your excitement bubbling over. “How did you sleep?”

Charlie chimes in, his voice bright and alert. “We were just talking about how much we miss you. Your vlogs make it feel like you’re still here.”

“I’m glad!” you say, feeling warmth spread through you. “I wish you could see it all in person. The food is amazing, and I found this great coffee shop that reminds me of our favorite back home.”

As you talk, you share stories of your adventures—learning to navigate the public transport system, funny language mishaps, and the quirky locals you’ve met. The laughter fills the space, making the distance feel less daunting. You can almost see Nick and Charlie smiling, their faces lighting up with every tale you tell.

You find yourself at a charming café, sipping a rich latte as you prepare to send another vlog. You focus the camera on the latte art, capturing the intricate design, then turn it toward yourself, grinning widely. “Hey, Nick and Charlie! Guess what? I just made a new friend here!”

You share snippets of your day, from exploring hidden gems in the city to trying local delicacies that leave you craving more. “I can’t wait for you both to visit. I promise to show you all my favorite spots! It’s not the same without you, though. I miss our hangouts.”

As you wrap up the vlog, you lean in closer to the camera. “Just know that no matter the distance, you both are always in my thoughts. I’m counting down the days until we can all be together again.”

Despite the time zones and physical distance, your connection with Nick and Charlie remains strong. Each update you share keeps them engaged in your life, bridging the gap with every moment, every laugh, and every ounce of love. You’re all committed to making this work, no matter the miles between you, knowing that your bond can withstand anything life throws your way.

[linkyu]

tell me about your defense contract pleage

Oh boy!

To be fair, it's nothing grandiose, like, it wasn't about "a new missile blueprint" or whatever, but, just thinking about what it could have become? yeesh.

So, let's go.

For context, this is taking place in the early 2010s, where I was working as a dev and manager for a company that mostly did space stuff, but they had some defence and security contracts too.

One day we got a new contract though, which was... a weird one. It was state-auctioned, meaning that this was basically a homeland contract, but the main sponsor was Philip Morris. Yeah. The American cigarette company.

Why? Because the contract was essentially a crackdown on "illegal cigarette sales", but it was sold as a more general "war on drugs" contract.

For those unaware (because chances are, like me, you are a non-smoker), cigarette contraband is very much a thing. At the time, ~15% of cigarettes were sold illegally here (read: they were smuggled in and sold on the street).

And Phillip Morris wanted to stop that. After all, they're only a small company worth uhhh... oh JFC. Just a paltry 150 billion dollars. They need those extra dollars, you understand?

Anyway. So they sponsored a contract to the state, promising that "the technology used for this can be used to stop drug deals too". Also that "the state would benefit from the cigarettes part as well because smaller black market means more official sales means a higher tax revenue" (that has actually been proven true during the 2020 quarantine).

Anyway, here was the plan:

Phase 1 was to train a neural network and plug it in directly to the city's video-surveillance system, in order to detect illegal transactions as soon as they occur. Big brother who?

Phase 2 was to then track the people involved in said transaction throughout the city, based on their appearance and gait. You ever seen the Plainsight sheep counting video? Imagine something like this but with people. That data would then be relayed to police officers in the area.

So yeah, an automated CCTV-based tracking system. Because that's not setting a scary precedent.

So what do you do when you're in that position? Let me tell you. If you're thrust unknowingly, or against your will, into a project like this,

Note. The following is not a legal advice. In fact it's not even good advice. Do not attempt any of this unless you know you can't get caught, or that even if you are caught, the consequences are acceptable. Above all else, always have a backup plan if and when it backfires. Also don't do anything that can get you sued. Be reasonable.

Let me introduce you to the world of Corporate Sabotage! It's a funny form of striking, very effective in office environments.

Here's what I did:

First of all was the training data. We had extensive footage, but it needed to be marked manually for the training. Basically, just cropping the clips around the "transaction" and drawing some boxes on top of the "criminals". I was in charge of several batches of those. It helped that I was fast at it since I had video editing experience already. Well, let's just say that a good deal of those markings were... not very accurate.

Also, did you know that some video encodings are very slow to process by OpenCV, to the point of sometimes crashing? I'm sure the software is better at it nowadays though. So I did that to another portion of the data.

Unfortunately the training model itself was handled by a different company, so I couldn't do more about this.

Or could I?

I was the main person communicating with them, after all.

Enter: Miscommunication Master

In short (because this is already way too long), I became the most rigid person in the project. Like insisting on sharing the training data only on our own secure shared drive, which they didn't have access to yet. Or tracking down every single bug in the program and making weekly reports on those, which bogged down progress. Or asking for things to be done but without pointing at anyone in particular, so that no one actually did the thing. You know, classic manager incompetence. Except I couldn't be faulted, because after all, I was just "really serious about the security aspect of this project. And you don't want the state to learn that we've mishandled the data security of the project, do you, Jeff?"

A thousand little jabs like this, to slow down and delay the project.

At the end of it, after a full year on this project, we had.... a neural network full of false positives and a semi-working visualizer.

They said the project needed to be wrapped up in the next three months.

I said "damn, good luck with that! By the way my contract is up next month and I'm not renewing."

Last I heard, that city still doesn't have anything installed on their CCTV.

tl;dr: I used corporate sabotage to prevent automated surveillance to be implemented in a city--

hey hold on

wait

what

HEY ACTUALLY I DID SOME EXTRA RESEARCH TO SEE IF PHILLIP MORRIS TRIED THIS SHIT WITH ANOTHER COMPANY SINCE THEN AND WHAT THE FUCK

HUH??????

well what the fuck was all that even about then if they already own most of the black market???

[centrally-unplanned]

Gonna make this a quick one since I just don’t have the spoons for a really big effort post: Pre-CCP 20th Century China Did Not Have Feudal or Slave-like Land Tenancy Systems

Obviously what counts as “slave-like” is going to be subjective, but I think it's common, for *ahem* reasons, for people to believe that in the 1930’s Chinese agriculture was dominated by massive-scale, absentee landlords who held the large majority of peasant workers in a virtual chokehold and dictated all terms of labor.

That is not how Chinese land ownership & agricultural systems worked. I am going to pull from Chinese Agriculture in the 1930s: Investigations into John Lossing Buck’s Rediscovered ‘Land Utilization in China’ Microdata, which is some of the best ground-level data you can get on how land use functioned, in practice, in China during the "Nanjing Decade" before WW2 ruins all data collection. It looks at a series of north-central provinces, which gives you the money table of this:

On average, 4/5ths of Chinese peasants owned land, and primarily farmed land that they owned. Tenancy was, by huge margins, the minority practice. I really don’t need to say more than this, but I'm going to because there is a deeper point I want to make. And it's fair to say that while this is representative of Northern China, Southern China did have higher tenancy rates - not crazy higher, but higher.

So let's look at those part-owner farmers; sounds bad right? Like they own part of their land, but it's not enough? Well, sometimes, but sometimes not:

A huge class (about ~1/3rd) of those part-owners were farming too much land, not too little; they were enterprising households renting land to expand their businesses. They would often engage in diversified production, like cash crops on the rented land and staple crops on their owned land. Many of them would actually leave some of their owned land fallow, because it wasn’t worth the time to farm!

Meanwhile the small part-owners and the landless tenant farmers would rent out land to earn a living…sometimes. Because that wasn’t the only way to make a living - trades existed. From our data, if you are a small part-owner, you got a substantial chunk of your income from non-farm labor; if you owned no land you got the majority of your income from non-farm labor:

(Notice how that includes child labor by default, welcome to pre-modernism!)

So the amount of people actually doing full-tenancy agriculture for a living is…pretty small, less than 10% for sure. But what did it look like for those who do? The tenancy rates can be pretty steep - 50/50 splits were very common. But that is deceiving actually; this would be called “share rent”, but other systems, such as cash rents, bulk crop rents, long-term leases with combined payment structures, etc, also existed and were plentiful - and most of those had lower rent rates. However, share rent did two things; one, it hedged against risk; in the case of a crop failure you weren't out anything as the tenant, a form of insurance. And two, it implied reciprocal obligations - the land owner was providing the seed, normally the tools as well, and other inputs like fertilizer.

Whether someone chose one type of tenancy agreement or the other was based on balancing their own labor availability, other wage opportunities, the type of crop being grown, and so on. From the data we have, negotiations were common around these types of agreements; a lot of land that was share rent one year would be cash rent another, because the tenants and market conditions shifted to encourage one or the other form.

I’m doing a little trick here, by throwing all these things at you. Remember the point at the top? “Was this system like slavery?” What defines slavery? To me, its a lack of options - that is the bedrock of a slave system. Labor that you are compelled by law to do, with no claim on the output of that work. And as I hit you with eight tiers of land ownership and tenancy agreements and multi-source household incomes, as you see that the median person renting out land to a tenant farmer was himself a farmer as a profession and by no means some noble in the city, what I hope becomes apparent is that the Chinese agricultural system was a fully liquid market based on choice and expected returns. By no means am I saying that it was a nice way to live; it was an awful way to live. But nowhere in this system was state coercion the bedrock of the labor system. China’s agricultural system was in fact one of the most free, commercial, and contract-based systems on the planet in the pre-modern era, that was a big source of why China as a society was so wealthy. It was a massive, moving market of opportunities for wages, loans, land ownership, tenancy agreements, haggled contracts, everyone trying in their own way to make the living that they could.

It's a system that left many poor, and to be clear injustices, robberies, corruption, oh for sure were legion. Particularly during the Warlord Era mass armies might just sweep in and confiscate all your hard currency and fresh crops. But, even ignoring that the whole ‘poverty’ thing is 90% tech level and there was no amount of redistribution that was going to improve that very much, what is more important is that the pre-modern world was *not* equally bad in all places. The American South was also pretty poor, but richer than China in the 19th century. And being a slave in the American South was WAY worse than being a peasant in China during times of peace - because Confederate society built systems to remove choice, to short-circuit the ebb and flow of the open system to enshrine their elite ‘permanently’ at the top. If you lived in feudal Russia it was a good deal worse, with huge amounts of your yearly labor compelled by the state onto estates held by those who owned them unimpeachably by virtue of their birthright (though you were a good deal richer just due to basic agriculture productivity & population density, bit of a tradeoff there).

If you simply throw around the word “slavery” to describe every pre-modern agricultural system because it was poor and shitty, that back-doors a massive amount of apologia for past social systems that were actively worse than the benchmarks of the time. Which is something the CCP did; their diagnosis of China’s problem for the rural poor of needing massive land redistribution was wrong! It was just wrong, it was not the issue they were having. It was not why rural China was often poor and miserable. It could help, sure, I myself would support some compensated land redistribution in the post-war era as a welfare idea for a fiscally-strapped state. But that was gonna do 1% of the heavy lifting here in making the rural poor's lives better. And I don’t think we should continue to the job of spreading the CCP's propaganda for them.

There ya go @chiefaccelerator, who alas I was not permitted to compel via state force into writing this for me, you Qing Dynasty lazy peasant.

[topazadine]

How to Write Faster (And, Hopefully, Better Too)

Estimated Reading Time: 7 minutes

I've shared some tools before to help improve your speed and motivation, which include:

Using a word count spreadsheet

Working on only one WIP at a time

Leverage StimuWrite and Cold Turkey

.... but I still have a few more tricks, which I'll share now.

Why should you listen to me? I've written over 2 million words of fiction since 2021. That's a lot, more than many people write in a lifetime.

This is despite the fact that I also write 22,000 words every week for my day job. I do around 10k of creative fiction a week. And there's also the time I spend writing these articles for you, the lovely people of Tumblr, which is around 4-5k per week.

So, all told, I probably do around 37,000 words (creative, informative, and otherwise) every single week.

I did that by following these tips.

Separate the work into stages.

First, let's outline the stages of work (or at least the stages I use). You may have a different setup, and that's fine - if you do have a system that works for you, then you probably don't need my post at all. Keep doing what you're doing and ignore my advice.

But if you do not have a system, consider mentally separating things into these parts.

Active Writing. When I am busy doing the draft. It is both the most precarious and productive time; everything else related to books goes on the backburner. I am doing nothing writing-related but writing. No discussing the work unless I'm stuck somewhere, no making moodboards, NOTHING. This is my sacred time when I am in the thick of things and I put Writing Blinders on.

Percolation. I am done with the first draft. I set the piece aside and do other things like reading other novels, outlining another story, answering tag games, playing with moodboards, or putting everything aside and focusing on other hobbies. This is so I can come back to revisions with a fresh set of eyes. It keeps the story in my mind and can even help me discover new things I want to add.

Revision. After I have had a beta reader check things out, I go back and start fixing things. Then it percolates again. I repeat percolating and revising as many times as I feel necessary. Many times, I will have one beta reader look at it, then revise, and then have another beta reader look at it, each one getting a slightly different version of the story so I can compare what they liked or disliked.

Prepublishing. Most authors' least favorite part: marketing and telling people about your book so that they want to read it when it is ready. That includes stuff like making mood boards, doing tag games, sending out ARCs, setting up adds, posting on social media, and so on.

Again, ONE STEP AT A TIME. Do not blend all of these into a slurry.

I will say that this time around, with Pride Before a Fall, I ordered the cover before I was done with the book because I had a very clear vision of what I wanted.

Talk less, write more.

This is similar to the problem I highlighted in my Double Outlining post; the more you talk about your story, the more you trick your brain into thinking that you've done the work when you categorically have not.

Plus, the time you spend talking about your book is time you spend not writing your book. We can't do both simultaneously.

I don't really talk about my stories while I'm doing them, not even with my family. I may post a line or two, and I may tell people the basic plot, but I'm not spending hours discussing them with anyone unless I need advice on what to do next. Even then, it's more like "hey what do you think about this? Good? Cool, off I go."

Please get out of the habit of exhaustively picking apart your work with other people during the Active Writing stage. That can come during the Percolating and Revising stages.

Devote all your love and attention to one story.

Yes, I've mentioned this in a whole entire post, but I need to emphasize just how important it is to write stories one at a time. Working on a million things at once is not efficient; it's scatterbrained.

Force yourself to do ONE story. Just one. Not two or three or five. ONE.

Again, I've written 132 stories on AO3 (two of which are 100k+, multiple of which are 50k+), published one book, and written 5 of the upcoming manuscripts for the 10-part Eirenic Verses series. I am a very productive writer, and that is because I do everything one at a time.

Don't tell yourself "oh, I can get more done if I do a little bit on this one and that one and that one."

Can a chess player win three games of chess if they play all of them simultaneously? Uh, probably not. Each of their opponents is devoting everything to one game while their concentration is split between three different boards.

And you're not going to win either if you're playing twenty games of Write the Book simultaneously.

Do not mess around with moodboards, tag games, character questionnaires, playlists, etc, during Active Writing.

I discussed this in my Extremely Controversial Writing Opinions, but it bears repeating.

Do all of that stuff later, after you are done, as a marketing tool. It's procrastination, plain and simple.

Any time I get sucked into tag games or moodboards while writing, I get less done because I'm devoting time and energy to something that doesn't actually enhance my book.

It's one thing to do character questionnaires while you're figuring out a character, but quite another to stop what you're doing and tell everyone what your character's favorite food is.

Is that helping you get the project done? No, it is not. Log out of Canva. Turn on Cold Turkey to block Tumblr or Twitter. Leave that stuff alone.

Read short stories.

You know you need to read to become a good writer, but taking hours out of your day to read a novel while you're drafting your own novel can take away from your writing process.

That's not to say you shouldn't ever read novels, of course, but you can do that while you're in between projects.

During my active writing phase, I like to read a short story before I get started on working. This gives me inspiration and primes my creative pump so I'm excited to do my best.

Reading short stories also helps me focus on brevity rather than long-winded diatribes, which lets me pack more into a story.

Don't reread your work during Active Writing.

It's easy to get sucked into rereading and then not get anything new done; plus, this makes you want to revise, which should come later.

Reread only as much as you need to fix plot holes or remind yourself of where you're going. Refusing to reread also lets you look at your work with fresh eyes during revisions.

Make a writing ritual.

You need to tell your brain that it is writing time. This could be anything, like brushing your teeth right before you sit down to write, or drinking coffee out of one specific coffee cup when you are in writing mode, or putting on a playlist that you only use when writing.

For me, I light incense and ring a bell, then ask my muses to help me. When I take a break, I'll light a new incense stick (it's Japanese incense so very light scent) and ring the bell again.

That's about it, though I may write another post with more tips. I hope these are helpful to you, even if you don't like them. Sit on them, think about it, and give it a try. You might find yourself spending more time writing and less time just thinking about writing.

I've created a masterlist of writing resources that you can peruse at your leisure, all for free.

The posts I write can sometimes take me hours - they're always intricate, always thoughtful. This one took me about 1 hour to write.

I do this as a labor of love for the writing community, sharing what I have learned from almost 15 years of creative writing.

However, if you'd like to support me, maybe you'll consider buying my book?

9 Years Yearning is a gay coming-of-age romance set in a fantasy world. It follows Uileac Korviridi, a young soldier training at the War Academy. His primary motivations are honoring the memory of his late parents, protecting his little sister Cerie, and becoming a top-notch soldier.

The book features poetry, descriptions of a beautiful country inspired by Mongolia, and a whole lot of tsundere vibes.

You can also check it out on Goodreads for a list of expanded distribution.

If you do purchase my book, don't forget to leave a review!

Reviews are vital for visibility on Amazon and help to support indie authors like me. Whenever you love a book, be sure to let the author know! It's much appreciated.

[quinnysnursery]

4 things my girlfriend does that heals my inner child

++ and why i'm telling you !

1. she shows up without being asked too

i own and operate a small business almost entirely on my own. i am in charge of my own social media marketing, creating and crafting my products and shipping out orders. my girlfriend has a decently sized instagram account, because she is very good at the hobby she does. never have i directly asked her to share some of my posts, or promote my work and yet, she has. every time without fail-- whether i have a market, i make a silly reel, or i'm announcing a new product-- she shares it with her followers. she supports me loudly, and shows up to support me and my business in the only way she can whilst we're long distance.

2. my interests are encouraged, never shamed

i'm a they of many interests and hobbies. i'm a crafter, a trinket collector, a k-pop fan-- you name it, i've probably dabbled in it at least briefly.

during my upbringing, my interests were often put off due to my family being busy, uninterested or simply just not wanting to hear. as an autistic person, i struggled with understanding how to connect with others who didn't share similar interests, and at times felt abandoned and hurt when people would laugh or poke at the things that made me happy.

but my girlfriend? she asks what i'm crafting, asks about the popmart series i'm most in-love with, and most recently told me she listens to my ult group just to familiarize herself with their discography.

3. arguments ≠ yelling

yelling was, and still is, a constant in my life. especially during my early childhood, it's apart of the reason i'm sensitive to loud noises as an adult now. and honestly, as sad as it may sound, i never expected to find a partner who didn't yell at me. i thought that's how couples communicated.

in the years i've known this girl, i can't count the number of times she's yelled at me angrily on one hand. why? because she never has.

of course, my girlfriend and i are people at the end of the day. we disagree, we argue, we butt heads-- but we never yell. we never try to create an unsafe environment to make the other feel scared into agreeing.

4. reassurance and communication. 

plain and simple. reassurance and communication are truly the foundation for any relationship. it's taken us awhile to learn what works and trust there has been countless of times where something worked for one of us, but not the other-- or a technique that worked for awhile only to stop as we grew and changed.

but what held our bond together was the reassurance that we were both safe with each other. the communication that, despite the rocky road of figuring out how to be the first in both our families to have a healthy relationship, we are on that together.

now, why am i telling you all this?

because i want people to know. i want people to know that love can be safe, love should be safe. love should never be fear, or have to be earned. no matter who you are, what you look like, or how you were raised. my upbringing instilled a lot of harmful ideals into my nervous system, made me believe things about myself that were never true and worst of all-- made me scared to let myself be loved.

i want each and every one of you to know that you'll find your person. you'll find the person who makes you laugh like your a child again, the person who helps you feel safe when everything in you wants to run back to bad habits, the person who helps you remember that love should never be conditional.

and until then, love yourself <3

[max1461]

Ah fuck it. True longpost when I'm feeling normal again. Here's a sketch.

A stakeholder centric government idea:

Everything is a stakeholder council. Local gov? Stakeholder council. Economic entity e.g. corporation? Stakeholder council. There are only two types of institutions in this society: stakeholder councils and courts.

A stakeholder council represents all the stakeholders in a given issue, one vote per person. Stakeholder council for a city represents residents. Stakeholder council for e.g. a river represents fishers, uh, farmers who use it for irrigation, people who get water from it, whatever. Stakeholder council for a factory represents workers, maybe also buyers? Depends on math, I need to do math for this but you may want marketized prices.

Councils are directly democratic. For convenience you can give your vote to a trusted representative to cast for you, but you can revoke it at any time.

There are standards for who counts as a stakeholder. You have to pass a certain bar of being affected by some issue to count as a stakeholder.

Think you and your buddies are stakeholders in some issue, but you're not on the council? Sue 'em! You can sue for stake; if a court finds your argument convincing, you will be added to the council.

Think that some of the issues under a council's jurisdiction don't in fact affect all the council members, and thus the council should be split into smaller councils representing more specific stakeholders? Sue 'em! You can sue to split a council into multiple, weaker councils.

Think that you are and your buddies are more effected by a certain subset of the issues under the council's jurisdiction than the rest of the member on a council? E.g. council represents stakeholders in the rail network, you and your buddies are stakeholders in a local branch of that network and often find yourself bringing before the council issues that primarily affect your branch and aren't of interest to the council as a whole? Sue 'em! You can sue for the creation of a sub-council, that has unilateral jurisdiction over some issues (those deemed not of relevance to the super-council) and shares jurisdiction with the super-council on issues of relevance to both. Not sure how to balance the votes in this latter case. Maybe you get primary decision making power but the super-council can overrule you with a sufficient supermajority vote.

Think a council's jurisdiction needs to be renegotiated in some other way? Sue 'em!

Courts decide, on the basis of the laws for determining stake, who has stake and what a council's jurisdiction should be.

Uhh, other stuff. This system is highly underspecifiied.

[myelkajou]

bon mwa eritaj ayisyen! toujou sonje ke ayiti kapab, e pèp ayisyen pral! 🌺

important to remember that silence isn’t just cowardice, but also compliance. respect haitian sovereignty, and support positive HAITIAN-LED initiatives if you care for haitian people like many of you claim to. any monetary contribution counts, and a single share could pass over so many waves—but feel free to share any individual links yourselves.

here, you’ll find the most comprehensive link to read up on & keep informed by. but here are also some quicker, condensed graphics (one & two). in essence, the roots beneath the forest of issues that many speak so ignorantly about today, goes back to the seeds sown by the first colonizers where they called "the new world". it goes back to the systems of oppression that they've created, and left behind for their descendants to foster over the centuries, to today—which has sprouted into rampant anti-blackness/indigeneity alongside anti-haitianism in the caribbean-latam (as well as beyond the region), apartheid & ethnic-cleansing, religious colonialism through stigmatizing indigenous practice [vodou] to push missionary work in its place—and, like it can't get any worse, destabilization & foreign occupation disguised as “intervention”. *all* urged by core group (the u.s., france, spain, germany, canada) and unsurprisingly endorsed by our own “siblings” in the region who allow themselves to be used as pawns to violate our sovereignty, states of caricom & latam. and, of course this violence wouldn't permitted without the illegitimate puppet governments who pride themselves on being haitian yet their actions say everything but, seeing that all they really care about is clawing onto power & blood money—who've been installed by core group, elites of either mulatto or purely european settler origin, and foreign oligarch families that began settling on the island long ago. at the end of the day, they all join forces because they all want a piece of the same pie; a haiti without haitian people, and to suck our lands dry.

descending from people who've resisted comes with a hefty price, and it's one that we will continue to refuse. this is the work they won't tell you about on the island.

grown in haiti operates from jakmèl, with the intentions of giving back to our land. they train/work with haitian farmers to restore the soil and replant trees, while also reviving and protecting indigenous ecosystems. click here if you'd like to make a donation, and scroll to the bottom of the page for their socials.

lakou tanama makes a home in many areas on our island, with the hopes of expanding to our diaspora—using afro-indigenous practices to nourish communities & offer support to people who've been heavily impacted by the rise of the organized violence. click here if you'd like to donate.

the haitian association of psychology continues to assist the growing wave of people right in the center of, or nearest to the calculated violence—who've been experiencing mental health difficulties as a result of the following issues; abuse, displacement, food scarcity, illness & injury, and inadequate resources. click here if you'd like to make a donation, and click here to reach their fb page.

the fontaine foundation operates from the capital, providing healthcare, education, and a promising future for those in the belly of the beast. click here if you'd like to make a donation.

haiti diaspora 360 sees to the self-sufficiency of displaced families drawn to the nearest southern departments of haiti, while trying to get as much of their youth in school as possible. click here if you'd like to make a donation, and click here to reach their website.

mouvan peyizan papay, operating from central plateau, focuses on sovereignty; supporting farmers there in plato santral (where haiti's agricultural market is strongest), providing education & legal aid, plus putting together logistics—altogether decreasing reliance on foreign assistance. click here if you'd like to read more, see the progress being made & donate.

cojeha, operating from the northeast department, serves as a center that empowers & provides opportunity to the haitian youth there, as well as the communities that they come from. click here if you'd like to read more, see the progress being made & donate.

otrah, by and for trans haitian people in haiti, is accepting donations to foster a safer space for the community, especially queer youth. they’re working on destigmatizing hiv, as they they provide diagnostic & treatment care for it. click here if you'd like to make a donation.

p4h global is involved in many ways—with our agricultural movement in the north (as well as the canals/bridges), strengthening haitian educators, assisting those displaced in the capital & the nearest surrounding areas, helping migrants at the colonial border, and even waste management projects. if you'd like to make a donation towards any of these, click here.

[charlesrich]

Digital Malcolm X: By Any Means Digital

“We want freedom by any means necessary. We want justice by any means necessary. We want equality by any means necessary.” Malcolm X spoke those words in 1964, but their power echoes louder than ever in the digital age. I’m not here to start a revolution with fists or fire. My revolution is online — one blog post, one resource, one connection at a time. I’m here for the ex-con hustling for a second chance, the single mother stretching every dollar of government aid, and the homeless man staring down another night on the street, wondering if tomorrow will be any different. This is for everyone the system forgot, everyone who’s been told to wait their turn, everyone who’s been handed scraps and told to be grateful.

Building Bridges, Not Walls

By any means digital, I’m building bridges where society put up walls. I remember what it’s like to have doors slammed in your face, to fill out job applications knowing your record will haunt you, to feel invisible in a world that only sees your mistakes.

I see you, ex-con, fighting to prove you’re more than your past. I see you, single mother, juggling bills, work, and the hope your kids might have it better. I see you, brother on the corner, down but not out, carrying dreams nobody else bothers to ask about. The digital world is the new frontier, and it doesn’t care where you started. It cares what you can create, how hard you hustle, and how loud you’re willing to shout for your place at the table.

Hope in Action: The Digital Comeback

I’ve watched people flip their lives with nothing but a smartphone and stubborn hope. I’ve seen single moms retrain in digital marketing and pull their families out of poverty. I’ve seen ex-cons launch businesses, mentor others, and build legacies from the ashes of their old lives. I’ve seen men who slept in shelters become digital entrepreneurs, using every free resource the internet could offer until they could stand on their own.

That’s the spirit of “by any means necessary” — not just fighting for yourself, but reaching back for the next person in line.

Take It. Build It. Connect.

Nobody’s going to hand us freedom, justice, or dignity. Like Malcolm X said, “Nobody can give you freedom. Nobody can give you equality or justice or anything. If you’re a man, you take it.” In this era, we take it by learning digital skills, building online businesses, connecting with supportive communities, and refusing to be left behind. We use every tool, every platform, every ounce of grit we have. We help each other — because no algorithm, no government check, no charity will ever replace the power of a community that refuses to give up.

Your Call to Arms: Rise Together

So to the ex-con, the single mother, the homeless man, and anyone who’s been counted out: this is your call to arms. By any means digital, we claim our place. We build our future. We rise — together.

CharlesRICH: Reporting live from struggle and hope digitally.

Related Resources for Empowerment:

Defy Ventures: Entrepreneurship for Formerly Incarcerated

Single Mothers Outreach

Code for America: Tech Solutions for Social Good

If this spoke to you, share it. The digital world is waiting — it’s time to take what’s yours. And if you need a boost, drop a comment or reach out. Let’s rise together.

If this spoke to you, share it. The digital world is waiting — it’s time to take what’s

[mona-risms]

INITIAL NOTES

◆ So university's been biting my ass so far in terms of finance, and right now I'm struggling to actually get a job because the job market here genuinely sucks ass. So yes, I am now one of those people that write to get paid

◆ I didn't really want to at first cuz I love writing!! I love writing without feeling that pressure of needing to meet deadlines or needing to meet a certain standard with my work, and putting prices on them could ruin that enjoyment for me. But alas, I am THIS desperate 😞 ugh I feel like I'm begging yikes it's me against my pride rn

◆ If you're familiar with my blog content, then you'd know that I usually write either somewhat short (for me anyway) headcanons or a mix of headcanons and small drabble snippets. For my commission work, I will be writing full-blown fics instead of my usual half-assing format

◆ I ask that you don't expect expert-level work, as I'm not a literature student, nor am I an author for a living (.....not counting this). I just hope that you guys like my content well enough that you're happy to support me, but as desperate as I am? Please do NOT feel as if you need to pay me. This hyperinflated economy just sucks major ass rn

◆ I'd appreciate if you lot could share my works so that it reaches a wider audience though!! Every little helps!!!!

CONTENT

◆ I will write for...

▪︎ Character x reader

▪︎ Character x OC

▪︎ Character x character

◆ I'll be writing for all the fandoms I have listed in the blog content page

◆ More often than not, I tend to write based on what I've seen and what my interpretations are on the character rather than stick to canon. With this in mind, I MAY also write for fandoms/characters that I haven't listed

▪︎ This won't be 100% guaranteed, as there will be sources that I won't write for

▪︎ If you would like to see if I'm willing to write for something unlisted, DM me first to check!

INFORMATION

◆ I made a Ko-Fi for commissions and donations (only if you'd like to!!). I accept PayPal (recommended) or the Stripe pay system 🫶

◆ I can and will refuse commissions for any reason, which I will refund you for if you've already paid for the service

◆ Commissions SHOULD be finished in 1-2 weeks, tops. However, I do have obligations in my life (eg. university), so there will be slight delays

▪︎ Commissions WILL be taken as priority over normal asks and requests though

◆ With your permission, the finished work will be released on the blog after completion. You will be tagged on the post (your handle or emoji), or alternatively stated as anonymous

◆ All blog rules still apply to the commission (no male chrs/reader, no weird shit, rules can be subject to change, etc.)

LINKS AND SOCIALS

◆ Ko-Fi

◆ In case you want to reach out to me...

▪︎ Feel free to DM me here!

▪︎ My Discord is monarisms (shocker)

◆ And in case you want further examples of my work...

▪︎ My old, abandoned Tumblr (I haven't updated the masterlist in a while though)

▪︎ My alt alias' AO3 (I kept this entirely separate before due to having two different audiences)

[jungkoode]

Honestly im really glad you added the fact that you would put engagement goals across platforms and not on specific types of notes :,)

You seemed to have had good experience with writers who put voting goals on their work, i personally havent. I know i havent been on wattpad since like 2017 either so maybe the culture changed, but some authors were hell bent on not counting comments and only votes an making the votes higher and higher every chapter, and obviously never finished their works because fandom does not expand exponentially, so it led to disappointment on both sides from writers who never reqched thier engagement targets and readers who were left bitter because when the writer only looks at numbers well... you can only vote once per chapter and not many people would be willing to create new accounts just to vote on a story, so i personally ended up feeling like a number and it took out the humanity out of interactions completely.

You and your community seem to be different tho ! (Fo starters we arent all teenagers with no understanding of impossible exponential growth and "market" pool limits ) I hope that engagement stays active, healthy and with good intent and that we dont get stuck in a situation like i described above.

I wanna emphasize that i genuinely do love your work, i love interacting with you and i love the symbiotic relationship you have with your readers and i ABSOLUETY want you to be fairly compensated (in interactions and in money) for your work, im just a bit... wary ? Over the exact logistics, but i trust you to make the best decision for yourself an right now and later down the line if changes need be

Hope you have a good day ! <3333

Hello Roo baby! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

This is exactly the type of ask I appreciate when someone doesn’t necessarily agree with my approach—thoughtful, constructive, and genuinely concerned for both the reader and writer experience.

So first of all, thank you for taking the time to share your perspective! I totally understand where you’re coming from. I’ve also seen that happen before, and I agree—when engagement goals become unrealistic, rigid, and disconnected from the actual audience, they don’t serve anyone. Readers feel like numbers, writers get frustrated, and ultimately, no one wins.

But.

I’m very on board with not letting that happen here. Mainly because I know the kind of readers we have in this space. I’m extremely upfront about my themes, the psychological complexity of my writing, and the way I engage with my stories—and that naturally brings in mature, thoughtful people (which I can clearly see reflected in my asks!). So I genuinely don’t worry about us falling into that pattern, and truly, you shouldn’t be either. ❤️

Like I’ve said before, this system is first and foremost a self-regulation tool for me. It’s not about power-tripping, thinking I’m above my readers, or trying to “make” people engage. It’s because I do a lot of self-awareness work, and I personally know my limitations and how to circumvent them. My ADHD isn’t an excuse or a disability—it’s just a different way of doing things, and I want to work with it in a way that benefits both you guys and me. I think it’s healthy and mature to be upfront about that, to acknowledge what I need and how to ask for it in a way that’s fair for everyone.

And honestly? This is something so many writers feel but are afraid to say out loud. Because the second you talk about numbers, there’s this fear of being seen as petty or entitled.

But the truth is—I am human. And it is human to want to feel rewarded for the effort you put into something!

Money is not my goal right now (although Ko-fi tips and commissions are always appreciated), but unfortunately, dopamine is a requirement given the way my brain works. And really—hitting a button is not an effort. It’s the absolute bare minimum form of support. Plus, as I’ve said before—I’m not delusional. I’m keeping this completely fair. These goals are based on our real numbers, and I genuinely think we can easily reach them if people engage.

Just to set an example—not to be petty—but 25H is a story that gets so many asks on here and comments on AO3. And yet, the last chapter got 14 notes. As a writer, seeing that is just disheartening.

I truly would love to say I don’t get affected by numbers, but if there’s one thing I’ve always promised you guys, it’s transparency—and you can see that in my long, rambling author notes (I truly do not shut up LMAO). I think one big thing of my Tumblr and this community is that I always want you guys to be part of the journey, and feel like you’re part of the writing process. I know I love writing my author notes, and I love knowing you love reading them too!

That’s why I appreciate this space so much. We’ve built something really rare here—a genuine, united community. A space where there’s mutual support, where people actually engage and discuss and get excited together. And I am deeply grateful for that. I know we can continue growing, in the right way, with the right balance between readers and writers.

So thank you for this ask, Roo, and for allowing me the space to reply with my thoughts. I appreciate you, and I love that we can have these conversations with so much mutual understanding and respect. (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡