#Infinit Nutrition

[rackartyg]

struggles of making zanarai Smol: astarion can't sit in their lap

[mecharose]

ok. we are not doing this again today. its cooking mama time

[thepitredish]

FOR YOUR NUTRITIONAL CONSIDERATION ✨✨

[sakuravalelp]

Don't eat anything else - DC X DP

Using this prompt

Next part

Masterpost

Danny is sure that if it wasn't for his ghost side, he would have already died from malnutrition. Vlad, the monster he is, doesn't allow him to eat any meal without human meat. It's not that he isn't allowed vegetables, fruits, and animal byproducts, but every meal has human meat somehow. Vlad watches him with piercing eyes while he eats, making sure he doesn't avoid the meat.

He's gone days without eating just to avoid it, but eventually, he does have to eat. He has eaten human meat! He wonders if this is why Dan decided to renounce his human side.

Future Vlad had told him that Dan wanted to get rid of his ghost side due to his grief, but maybe Dan thought he would feel better about eating humans if he were a complete ghost. Danny could understand that, but he now knows it wouldn't work...

The Infinite Realms are full of different species, and the act of eating another species that's able to coexist with you in a society feels just as horrendous as cannibalism. Was finding this out what drove Dan mad?

He isn't getting much nutrition when he does eat either, not with him vomiting at least half the times he does. Not that Vlad cares about that;

"Ectoplasm will take care of your body while you stubbornness dies. I do think it would be easier for you if you just stopped being ridiculous and eat."

Ectoplasm and water are the only things he has free access too, and Danny hates how grateful he is for at least having that.

As if things couldn't be worse, he's also been forced to cook the meat. When he started learning how to cook with Tucker's mom, he never, never, would have imagined he would be using his abilities for this. He has grown numb to butchering human corpses…

Corpses are a frequent view in the kitchen. He's scared one day he'll recognize the face of one of them. Vlad knows it and uses to control him, telling him that if he doesn't behave, their next meal might be Tucker or Sam. He hates to admit how docile he's grown.

He hasn't seen Tucker, Sam, or anyone since the explosion in the lab took his family. Vlad doesn't allow him to leave the mansion for anything besides galas. He has him collared like a dog to prevent him from leaving. Except, his collar is a shock bracelet charged with blood blossoms that would inject into his wrist if he tries to escape.

He thought Vlad was bluffing and tried escaping once. His whole body felt like it was burning up in flames, and he wasn't able to move for a week. Vlad told him that next time, the dose would keep him in bed for a month. He hasn't tried escaping since.

He's still talking with them through chat. He doesn't know if Vlad knows, but he doesn't think he does; he told him his phone exploded with the lab. But he can't tell them anything. How could he? How is he supposed to tell them he has cooked humans? That he has eaten humans? That he has grown somewhat numb to it? He can't, and then he feels like he can't talk about anything else that is happening.

Today, as he serves the entrance dish to the first guests Vlad has had since he took Danny in, he forces a fake smile on his face. Inside, he feels a wave of nausea and dread as intense as the first time he was forced to eat human meat. The grotesque irony of presenting this dish, knowing what it contains, twists his stomach and makes his hands tremble ever so slightly.

They don't know. They have no idea that they're being served their own species. They don't know, and Danny is the one forced to make them eat their own kind.

The appetizer is a vegetable-based soup with barely any traces of meat, but the main dish features a full human fillet. The guilt and revulsion claw at his insides, nearly choking him. He has to at least stop them from eating that. He needs to get them out of here somehow. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to try and put a stop to everything else. He can’t let this atrocity continue.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Tim didn't feel comfortable listening to Masters talk about how good the food would be, while Masters' heir served the appetizer with the fakest smile Tim had ever seen. The teen looked so clearly uncomfortable and scared around his guardian that it was hard to resist the urge to grab the boy and leave.

Masters had praised his godson’s cooking during the gala last week, all the while keeping a hand possessively on the teen’s shoulder. Tim didn't like how controlling it seemed, nor how the grip tightened when the teen mumbled quietly about his name being Danny. It was difficult to witness the entire interaction, especially as the teen appeared to fall into a state of complete dissociation afterward.

They were already planning to investigate Masters due to the suspicious nature of all his contracts, but after the gala, they had to shift their focus to helping the teen. They were fortunate that Masters had granted them easy access to his mansion with the invitation to try Danny's cooking.

They couldn't all go to Masters's and leave Gotham behind, so at the dinner, it was just Bruce, Cass, and Tim. Jason was also in the city because he refused to stay away from an obvious abuse case, but he wasn't allowed at the dinner. He would have attacked Masters just from seeing Danny’s uncomfortable stance under his hand during their greeting.

Masters had insisted that Danny serve the food since he had made it, and now Danny stood beside him, serving him the last plate of soup. Danny stumbled for a moment, and before Tim knew it, he was bathed in soup. Tim blinked, surprised at how the soup wasn’t as hot as he had expected, given the steam rising from the other plates.

"Daniel! What the hell are you doing!?"

Vlad exclaimed, standing up from his place, and the teen beside Tim paled.

“I—I am so sorry!” Danny apologized, using napkins to help clean off the soup, his hands slightly trembling. “Did you get burned?”

"No, no, don't worry about it. I'm okay."

"It isn't okay. Daniel, you ruined Mr. Drake's clothes!"

"Sorry... Let's- I think I have clothes that could fit you... So you could change?"

Oh, so that was why his soup wasn’t hot. Danny had poured it on him deliberately; he was trying to get him alone. Despite how scared Danny looked, it seems he still clung to the hope of escaping. Tim felt a surge of relief and determination. He was glad to see that Danny was looking for a way out, and this chance could be their opportunity to devise a plan.

"Thanks, I would appreciate that." he said as he stood from his sit. He saw how Masters was opening his mouth to say something, but Tim didn't want to risk loosing the opportunity. "Please, don't worry about it Mr. Masters, accidents happen, we'll be back in a moment."

Tim locked eyes with Bruce for just a second, a barely noticeable nod telling him Bruce trusted him to do this right. He then followed Danny through the mansion’s halls and up the stairs, noting that Danny’s bedroom was on the top floor. Danny kept his arms crossed, trying to make himself appear smaller.

"I'm really sorry Mr. Drake. I should have been more careful."

"It's okay really, and please, just call me Tim."

"Oh, um, thanks, but Vlad doesn't like nicknames... would- would it be okay to use Timothy instead?"

“… Yeah, sure.” It seemed Vlad controlled the way Danny was allowed to speak. “Would you mind if I call you Danny then?” Tim asked. He had been mentally referring to him as Danny since the gala and wanted to match that with his spoken words.

Danny shrank farther into himself, and Tim was about to retract his suggestion, but then a small smile appeared on Danny's face and he turned to look at Tim.

"Yeah, I would like that." Danny said in a hushed toned, and a hint of fears in his eyes. Like he was afraid to accept the suggestion.

Tim wondered if Masters had punished Danny for mumbling his preferred name at the gala. However, before he could dwell further on the types of punishments Masters might have used, Danny's eyes widened.

"Ancients, you even have soup on your hair-"

Despite Tim’s attempts to reassure him that everything was okay, Danny continued to apologize throughout the journey to his bedroom. Lamenting how foolish it had been to let the plate slip, and how he should have known better.

Danny’s constant self-reproach made Tim question whether he had misjudged the situation. Maybe it had been a genuine mistake. In theory, it wouldn't matter, because he got to talk alone with Danny either way, but he liked thinking that Danny was reaching out for their help.

Once in Danny's bedroom, Danny beelined to his closet to give Tim a change of clothes. Tim took the opportunity to look around. Danny's room was… impersonal. It was sophisticated and extravagant, like a room that would be featured in a magazine. Tim was sure Danny hadn't decided on the decor. He was surprised to see the bedroom had a large balcony connected to it. Maybe Masters trusted it was high enough for Danny not to attempt escaping through it?

"Would this outfit work for you?"

Danny was holding a suit similar to the one Masters had worn at a previous gala. Now that Tim paid attention to Danny's outfit, he noticed that Danny's clothes today were almost a smaller version of what Masters was wearing, with just enough differences to not be immediately recognized as the same. Thinking back to last weeks gala, their outfits were also similar. To what extent was Masters controlling Danny's life?

"Um... if you don't like it I can grab another one..."

Tim blinked, realizing he had just stared silently at Danny while he offered him the clothes.

"No, sorry, got lost in thoughts, I'm okay using those."

"Okay, I'm glad. Again, sorry for..." Danny motioned to Tims clothes "You can change in my bathroom over there." He pointed to a door beside the bed. "Maybe also take a shower?" Danny got a towel from his closet and offered it to Tim.

"Yeah a shower would be good." Tim said, taking clothes and the towel and entering the bathroom.

He'll talk with Danny once he was changed into clean clothes. If only to calm Danny's guilt about the incident.

Danny's bathroom was spacious, with a jacuzzi bathtub, a separate shower, and one of those popular bidet toilets. From an outside perspective it must look like Danny has anything he could want, but Tim knows better than anyone that money doesn't guaranty a good household. It's sad knowing that any CPS agent that did decide to look into this, would be easily push away by Masters money.

Once Tim had showered and changed clothes, he prepared to go back to the bedroom to talk to Danny, but before he did, a green glow from the corner of his eye caught his attention. Tim sucked a breath when he saw what it was. A syringe with traces of Lazarus waters and blood sat beside the sink.

"Timothy? Everything okay in there? Did the clothes don't fit?"

Tim took a photo of the syringe and sent it to the group chat with the caption, "We may have to add experimentation to Danny's abuse." After taking a sample, he decided to leave the syringe behind, considering the possibility that Masters might use the same syringe more than once and notice its disappearance. He really hoped to get Danny out of there that same day, but if they couldn't, he didn't want to make things more difficult for him.

"Everything is okay! I'll be out in a second."

Tim took one last look around while picking up his dirty clothes, just in case he found anything else. When he left the bathroom, Danny was waiting for him, shifting nervously from side to side. It was time to talk to him.

"Danny, look, I wanted to talk-"

"Ah, let me take your clothes! I'll make sure to clean them and get them back to you!" Danny interrupted him, grabbing his arm and shaking his head with a pleading look.

Tim looked incredulous at Danny for a second, before he realized what was happening and mouthed. "Your bedroom is bugged." He hadn't meant it as a question but Danny had nodded anyway. It was fucked up, Danny couldn't even talk confidently in his own bedroom?

"Right, thank you Danny. I would appreciate that. Perhaps we could take the opportunity to meet again in the future."

Danny gave him the look an adult might give a naive child when talking about an unreachable fantasy, and Tim couldn't help but frown at it. Did Danny believe that even seeing them again was too out of reach?

"That would be great, I'll talk with Vlad about the possibility."

Tim was going to say something else to try to reassure Danny that they would be able to meet, but Danny just handed him two pieces of paper. One was unfolded with text on it, and the other was folded into a small square, smaller than his pinky. He read the unfolded paper first.

- Don't eat anymore of the food. Pretend to have some sort of family emergency and leave, please. Read the other paper when you're far away. -

Tim looked at Danny with questioning wide eyes, but Danny just gave him another pleading look. Tim took a deep breath and took a photo to the paper and sent it to the group chat.

"Oh common, aren't you a little old to ask your guardian about every little meet up you have?" (Would you leave with us?)

Danny gives a nervous chuckle.

"Maybe, but after my family, Vlad tends to be really protective, you know?" He said while pointing to his bracelet.

Tim hadn't noticed how tick the bracelet was before. It was metallic, with a red liquid line in the middle.

"Shock bracelet?" He mouthed.

Danny nodded and then mouthed, "if I scape, it poisons me."

Tim pales a bit at that. They had underestimated how dangerous Masters was.

He motioned to his phone and took a photo of the bracelet after Danny nodded and sent to the group chat with the caption: "Shock bracelet with the capacity of poisoning Danny. We won't be able to get him out right now."

"We should probably go back with the others now."

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Group chat

Coffee is my life: *Photo of the syringe*

Coffee is my life: We may have to add experimentation to Danny's abuse.

Death boy walking: Fuck!

Death boy walking: @ Adoption addict, we have to get the kid out of there now!

Bones? What bones?: Bruce is entertaining Masters with Cass at the moment little wing.

Bones? What bones?: I doubt he'll read this.

The blood son: There's no way that buffoon has any relation with grandfather. He's company does not follow any of the leagues morals.

Light & shadow: Maybe he found another Lazarus pit?

Light & shadow: They're supposedly naturally formed right? It shouldn't be that crazy for someone out of the league to have one.

Computer genius: It might not even be Lazarus waters. The tone is slightly off.

The blood son: It is possible that it is a different variation of dionesium.

Death boy walking: Who cares? He's injecting the kid with that thing!

Not Bruces kid: Hate to say it but the zombie is right, we can find what exactly when Danny is safe.

Coffee is my life: *Photo of paper with text*

Light & shadow: ????

Light & shadow: Is the food poisoned!?

Computer genius: Already told them through comms to not eat anymore food.

Computer genius: If the food is poison it hasn't affected them yet.

Light & shadow: Do you guys have a way to deal with the poison there?

Bones? What bones?: Don't worry Bruce doesn't go anywhere without the poison antidote kit.

Death boy walking: Of course he doesn't. The paranoid bastard.

The blood son: It isn't paranoia if the danger is real Todd.

Computer genius: I'll call Bruce in 10 to pretend a family emergency.

Death boy walking: You are NOT going without Danny!

Bones? What bones?: Any possibility on taking Danny with you @ Coffee is my life?

Coffee is my life: *Photo of bracelet*

Coffee is my life: Shock bracelet with the capacity of poisoning Danny. We won't be able to get him out right now.

Not Bruces kid: WTFWTFWTFWTFWTFWTFWTF

Not Bruces kid: Wasn't this a low stakes rescue???

Not Bruces kid: Why is this man coming up with plans in the big villain category?

Light & shadow: I'm scared of whatever "the other paper" that Danny gave Tim says.

Light & shadow: Wouldn't be surprised if Masters was connected with a trafficking ring.

Bones? What bones?: @ Death boy walking?

Bones? What bones?: You're too silent...

Bones? What bones?: Remember you won't be able to barge in without putting Danny in danger.

Death boy walking: I ALREADY KNOW THAT DICKFACE.

The blood son: Tt, don't be so surprise by the warning Todd.

The blood son: Your past actions have prove it necessary.

Death boy walking: Shut the fuck up demon brat. You're not one to talk.

... The blood son is writing ...

Light & shadow: Everyone have had their outburst of bad decisions.

Light & shadow: Can we go back to Danny?

Light & shadow: How likely do you think it is that he's a meta?

Light & shadow: Because, I think it's pretty high.

Not Bruces kid: Did you see something strange in him on the gala?

Light & shadow: No, but the bracelet are pretty similar to the meta-suppressors collars I've seen in the past.

Computer genius: I'm calling Bruce right now.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

next part

[wanologic]

Danny wakes up. It feels different now that he’s older. Now that he’s both more and less than he was. He starts mornings out floaty, his edges indistinct, bleeding into his surroundings. He’s hyper-aware of the tentative strings connecting him to life, the blood pumping sluggishly through his veins, the breath expanding the lungs within his chest. 

He yawns. A stretch.

His brain feels like an old computer booting up, each process coming online in a slow, methodical order. Neurons firing, electric pulses traveling up and down the webbed network of sinew tangled through his skeleton. He feels the pressure of atmosphere on his skin, the floor under his feet.

It’s weird. Not uncomfortable, just strange. It’s been years, but it’s never been easy to come to terms with the new awareness of his physicality, the control he could exert over its expression and shape. What once was instinctual, settled, now flows through his fingers like water, rising and falling with the rhythm of his chest. He would say that he’s just tired, that he’s never been a morning person, but the simmer of dawn and the infinite thrumming energy beneath his skin beg to differ.

He makes his way to the bathroom. He might have walked, but probably not, he can’t be sure. It doesn’t matter. There are only friends here. He’s safe. Home.

The routine of the morning is grounding. Always the same. Jazz says it should help. That it can all become instinctual again, through enough repetition. Danny isn’t so sure.

He takes his time putting together his outfit, picking accessories and being mindful of the way it all fits against him. His body might be a projection, something just to the left of real, but clothes are normal, socks, rings, a watch. He can feel normal like this. 

Another stretch. 

He wants to scream.

He makes his way down to the shared living space. He’s grateful that he’s not crammed into a tiny apartment with strangers, that he’s allowed both the time and space to be what he is. Sam’s parents may not be the most accommodating, but this is worth every glare and snide, underhanded comment he’s had to put up with for the better part of the past decade.

He knows what comes next, but his stomach rolls in his gut. He should have something solid, go through the remaining motions of self-care, even if it’s a bowl of cereal and a piece of fruit. 

He grimaces and grabs a less-than-pleasant nutritional shake from the fridge. They’re supposed to be back up, an addition-to rather than in-replacement-of, but it’s early and he can’t bring himself to care. He finds himself on the roof, with the chilled bite of the morning and the chalky pseudo-chocolate flavor of his breakfast on his tongue.

He longs to shed this husk, to leave the weight of his flesh behind and see what the sunrise looks like from ten thousand feet. But it’s a Tuesday and he has an 8am. He wants equally to be the college student he is, to sit with his peers and bring numbers to their algorithmic conclusions—to describe the world around him in a way that makes sense, in a way that’s objectively true. One day he might even be able to describe what happened to him in a neat little equation. 

He breathes in and out, feeling heavy in his body. This is nice too, he supposes. He shuts his eyes and feels the brunt of the morning sun peek over the neighboring apartment complex. When he hears his friends shuffling about in their own morning fugue states, he sinks back inside. 

Tucker just about jumps out of his skin when he turns around, eyes half closed, to see Danny dressed and ready, silent, and much too close behind him.

Laughter peels through the house as Danny is chased through the halls and somehow he feels human.

[officialbruciewayne]

Observations on Kryptonians:

Their Biology, Behavior and its Dynamic with Beauty

An anecdotal entry by Bruce T. Wayne, regarding his experiences with the Kryptonian People.

Over the course of the last century, Earth and Humanity has become aware that not only are we not alone in our universe- but that we are not alone on our world. At an undisclosed moment in our history, our homeworld became a refuge for the last children of Krypton, a world that was lost to unknown disaster.

Kryptonians are mysterious and alien, a recipe for rejection and prejudice on this planet. Not only this, but they have exceptional powers, which lure our worst impulses of greed and exploitation. We have not always treated them with kindness.

Despite our own lack of humanity, the most notable Kryptonians of our society continue to share their unique gifts and perspectives, choosing to help wherever they can.

As a Jewish man, and a Father, the legacy of the Kryptonian people, both in entrusting our world with their children, but with it, their future in the face of diaspora, humbles me.

I would like to offer my voice of support to our kin from beyond the stars. I have some personal experience with Kryptonians, and will attempt to demystify their habits and nature, to present them to you not as strangers from the skies, but as part of the infinite diversity of our world.

Not to be feared, not be used, but to be welcomed.

ברוכים הבאים לבית שלנו

Caveat on Kryptonian Powers

Most discussions of Kryptonian biology begin and typically conclude with a long list of the powers typical to Kryptonians. These powers are considerable, but are generally used to justify how they are treated. There is no value in me lingering on this much-speculated aspect of our Kryptonian kin.

Instead, I would like to discuss the lesser known traits that I have found to be personally charming.

Diurnalism and Sun-seeking

Kryptonians are naturally diurnal by nature, and are drawn to sunlight. When relaxed, they enjoy basking in our sun's warmth and when injured, or unwell, should rest in either natural sunlight, or be placed near a sunlamp.

Many Kryptonians display a tanned or dark-skinned complexion, which I found initially counterintuitive since it indicates protective melanin in Humans. In a Kryptonian, this coloration is actually indicative of stored solar radiation. In layman's terms, it's a sign of good health in your local Kryptonian.

(Art credit to @domnorian, please support the original work here, it is used here as an example)

Dentition and Diet

The intense demands of the Kryptonian body are supported by an incredibly high metabolism. Although they are primarily sustained by solar radiation, they can and do display a remarkable appetite. This energy is readily burned off by their bodies, so it should be considered offensive to shame or draw attention to how hungry a Kryptonian may appear to a Human.

Instead, attention should be paid to the variety of their diet. I have concerns that Kryptonian nutrition is not necessarily met by traditional human foods, and believe that supplements of various metals, sillica and crystalized minerals may be of great use to them. Further research is indicated, but consider they may not be fully satisfied.

This viewpoint is supported by the Kryptonian dentition, which features a diminutive but handsome set of fangs. As this is one of the more readily visible distinguishing features, some Kryptonians experience self-consciousness when smiling.

If it is of comfort to any Kryptonians reading this, Humans enjoy 'teefies' and like to remark upon the canine teeth of our companion cats and dogs. We find it 'cute'.

Ocular Notes

It has come to my attention that Kryptonian vision is more specialized for use during flight. It has great telescopic capacity, amongst its other various modes, but this can put them at a disadvantage in our society. Being so far-sighted, Kryptonians may struggle to read letters, smaller signs and newspapers without assistance.

If you see a Kryptonian puzzling over a piece of paper, and holding it at arms' length, any offers to help should be gently made. However, Kryptonians are notoriously friendly and inclined to offer help as much as receive it. You may well make a new best friend. In fact you probably will. Statistically.

A smaller note is that Kryptonian eyes- on account of the multiple facets to their vision -all appear to be a unique type of blue. This particular shade is potentially a generative emission of scattered sunlight, though it would require more detailed research and a far longer examination on my part to confirm.

They Purr

Yes, it is true. Kryptonians purr. It is a delight to listen to.

From my observations it seems readily triggered by the presence of children, or a desire to comfort others. As well as by their own contentment, whether physical, emotional and often both.

The frequency of the oscillations seem to differ between the two circumstances, supporting my current theory that this purring is both a form of communication, but separately resonant to encourage bone growth and soft tissue repair in the sick and injured.

Reproduction and Courtship

Having not conducted a relationship with a Kryptonian, I speak from a limited capacity of research. That said, to Humans looking to court Kryptonians, they appear to be receptive to forms of lip contact, and saliva exchange.

Further erogenous zones are speculative, but there is marked sensitivity along the length of the throat and just below the occipital bone.

Love

I put it to you that Kryptonians are not powerful - they are uniquely vulnerable. An endangered culture and people who have shown us compassion alone. They deserve our protection and understanding.

This is the only home they have ever known. They are not strangers from the stars, they are our friends sharing the same sunlight.

They love us. We should love them in return.

B.T.W

PS. @official-clark-kent I am no reporter, but I did enjoy trying my hand at a small thinkpiece. Perhaps we could go fishing sometime?

[crimeronan]

unfortunately now that i've made this poll i have to pick just one for myself, but. everyone participate here.

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan elle september issue cover story Q&A

ELLE: During this rest period, do you think about things that happened on the set?

Xiao Zhan: Of course, I remember a few days after the filming was finished, I had a dream that we were still filming, and the director and I were still discussing how to say that word? How to handle that scene?

ELLE: Do you actually miss the atmosphere on the set?

Xiao Zhan: I like it very much, because I like the feeling of everyone creating together and working together to get something done.

ELLE: When you first entered the entertainment industry and your popularity grew rapidly, you said that it felt a bit unreal and magical, but now you seem to be quite relaxed. How did this change happen?

Xiao Zhan: Rather than saying it’s unreal or magical, after so many years I feel that I haven’t had time to adapt to the fast pace at that time, so when I wake up from sleep, where am I today? What am I doing? I think it’s a process, just like when you first enter the workplace, everyone is very excited, "I’m here to work, please take good care of me", "I’m here, everyone get out of the way", "I can do it, I can do it". (Laughs) But after experiencing a lot of things, I feel that everything needs to be planned for the long term.

ELLE: In several interviews you mentioned that you like to play roles that "can convey energy". Why do you have such a preference?

Xiao Zhan: Because I think it is the life of the character. The kind of energy I am talking about is not just a single positive energy in the general sense. I mean the nutrition that can be subtle and silent. I believe that every character has a complete story line in his heart. This is what I like very much. As long as you dig deep, you can move people. I don’t like to call the villain a "villain", as if it is defined as a bad character from the beginning, but it is not. He may have his own difficulties.

ELLE: It sounds like “transmitting energy” is just a general term. Is it actually about understanding different people through performance?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, if we break it down to each character, they all convey different things. But if we say they are “good guys” or “bad guys”, I think that’s meaningless.

ELLE: So do you think acting is a form of communication?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, you can say that. I think it’s great to say that (acting) is a bridge to communicate with the audience. Just like when a play is broadcast, I will read some of the audience’s comments and impressions, and feel that they have a rich feeling about the work. When I see some comments that are exactly the same as my thoughts when filming, I feel very magical, as if this bridge is really connected. We don’t know each other in life, and we haven’t communicated, but he suddenly got my thoughts at the time, and I felt that, oh, acting is a very beautiful and magical thing.

ELLE: Do you watch some science fiction movies, TV shows, and literary works?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, I used to like watching "The Three-Body Problem". I have watched some science fiction movies recently, the American TV series "The Stars", and recently I am watching "The Replica". They are all about infinite flow and parallel time and space. Because I think there may really be parallel time and space. Every choice you make will split into a different parallel time and space.

ELLE: Do you imagine Xiao Zhan in a parallel universe?

Xiao Zhan: I really wonder, for example, is he still an actor? Maybe, is he still filming now? Is he still singing now? Or is he still a designer? Is he working for others or is he his own boss? (Laughs) Really, I really wonder.

ELLE: What do you think the future will be like?

Xiao Zhan: Wow, I think the world might return to its original state at that time, and the world might become a better place, and people would return to the most basic communication with each other.

ELLE: This is very interesting. Why do you think so?

Xiao Zhan: Anyway, at least now I am a little disgusted with the ubiquitous Internet. When we were young, when there were no mobile phones, we would chat while eating, and we would call our friends downstairs to play hide-and-seek and various games. I think that time was very precious.

ELLE: Will the profession of actor still exist by then?

Xiao Zhan: I think there will be. I believe that as long as life goes on, drama will continue. Because everyone needs an output, needs emotional resonance and sustenance, whether it is images or sounds. So I think that even if the world is destroyed, as long as there are still people, drama will definitely exist.

-END.

source

[bitsbug]

you guys seem to like my echo iterator, Distant Humming, so here’s more Humming lore

first thing’s first, her can is weird! the void fluid she dipped herself in didn’t take too kindly to her structure, melting and dissolving and stretching it in odd ways as she descended into the sea. Despite literally looking like a corpse, she’s doing fine! Becoming an echo unshackled her from the limitations of physics, and also the dangers of physical damage.

She resides over what was once her facility grounds. After she got dissolved, the void fluid kept boring through everything around it, digging a hole into the earth’s crust right back to the sea. The Pit is the most direct way to the depths, but a perilous journey due to the unstable walls and sheer drops. Like all echoes, Distant Humming only appears when you’re on your current max karma - just a bit more dramatic because, instead of a singular guy, it’s at least 3 regions appearing overnight. When she’s visible, the echo pacification aura affects almost all of the Pit, and even a bit outside of it.

Her interior isn’t any less weird. Everything free-floating inside her structure melted into the walls and floors and ceilings, distorting in the void. Anything that didn’t get attached was lost, making her interior uncannily still. She’s literally incapable of losing anything else now, as if a piece gets dislodged it’s instantly replaced by a clone of itself. Yes you can produce infinite neurons this way. They’re only nutritional inside her regions.

she’s so normal :thumbs up:

[sea-salted-wolverine]

No spoons for cooking or dishes? That's okay, find yourself a ricecooker. it will love you more than your own mother.

Put rice in pot. Put water in pot. Rinse rice. Put as much water as rice in pot. Add sauce. What kind of sauce? What are you a cop? Add a good sauce, soy sauce, BBQ sauce, worschester sauce, enchilada sauce, whatever you please. Add veggies, diced veggies, frozen veggies, fresh veggies, whatever veggies you got on hand. Yes, you need to add veggies, or die of scurvy. Add protein, fish, chicken, red meat, tofu, whatever, beans maybe. Just stick it in there on top of the rice and veggies. Didn't take the meat out of the freezer? It works with frozen meat. You're welcome. Toss some spices in there maybe? Idk, you know what you like.

Put pot in rice cooker. Set to cook. Do whatever it is you do with a spare 20 minutes. Chores. Sex. Floor time. Homework. Post about one pot meals on Tumblr. I'm not your mom. Oh hey. The rice cooker beeped.

Eat it out of the pot. You have a fork and a nonstick pot to rinse. But also, sustenance and nutrition. That you could feasibly feed to other people without feeling like you're feeding them depression meals. AND most importantly, frozen veggies and frozen meat and rice are all things that you can stash and stock in your house for relatively cheap.

Of all the appliances you could possibly have in a modern kitchen a rice cooker/ pressure cooker is the one you can get the most mileage out of. Congratulations on your infinitely customizable balanced and nutritional meal.

[elfieafterdark]

Pyrrha Dve hasn't ever been a perfect woman, let alone a perfect person. Her mid-twenties weren't exactly spent at her best.

She had a few nasty habits, and a decent enough job to fuel them. Smoking, womanizing, and of course, drinking.

That last one was how she ended up at this hospital, sitting there all uncomfortably in the middle of the night. Fidgeting with her big hands, unable to fully sit still but lacking anything actionable to do.

She had, remarkably, fallen asleep at some point. The nurses kept telling her she could go home, they'd handle it, and she just kept staying.

What was she supposed to do? Leave the kid? Not an option.

It's gotta be morning by now. Caught in this in between place, with all the beeping and the noise. She can't even remember finding the kid, not really.

She just remembered showing up at the hospital with the kid.

She couldn't take it anymore, she finally flagged down a nurse, and asked, "how's the kid doing?" The nurse, who had started her shift at some point recently, judging by the significantly reduced bags under her eyes, was infinitely patient.

Once she knew what Pyrrha was talking about, she happily led her to the infant. Same as before, same as when she found her... Just, more tubes. Tubes and wires connected to the little baby.

"She's a little trooper. Aren't you sweetie?" The nurse asks, and the little baby coos. Pyrrha stared at the infant, at her dark skin, at her little tuft of red hair, at her golden eyes.

"What's with all the hardware?"

"Heart and oxygen monitors," explains the nurse, letting the baby grab one of her fingers as she talks, "We've also got her on TPN, that's total parent nutrition by the way." She added before Pyrrha could ask, "Just making sure that she's okay. God damn though, I can't believe someone would leave her in a box on the side of the road."

"Is that what happened?"

"That's what you told us, yes." The nurse confirmed. The baby gurgled, looking around at this strange world and clearly finding her tiny self utterly perplexed by it.

"Jesus." Pyrrha said. The baby looked her way, then smiled and reached, though she lacked the fine motor skills to properly do so.

Pyrrha offered a finger, and the baby grabbed one. Something happened then, to Pyrrha Dve, something involving her heart, and that heart collapsing in on itself.

"What..." Her words were thick and slow to roll off the tongue, "What happens now?" The nurse grabs a clipboard and starts writing.

"Well, now CPS gets involved. They try and find her parents, though something tells me they won't succeed there."

"bahhh." The baby added, rather unhelpfully for poor Pyrrha's heart.

"And when they can't find her birth parents, she's going to go into foster care." The nurse continued. Pyrrha straightened her posture at that.

"And, if I wanted... I mean, is me... an option?" As if expecting it, the nurse brandished a piece of paper with a phone number and some basic instructions written on it.

"Give them a call, they can get you all the literature. You'll have to be evaluated of course, but, I think she likes you."

Pyrrha looked back at the baby, the baby whose birth parents abandoned her. Left her to literally die. Pyrrha's never been so glad that Mercy convinced her to walk home rather than take a cab, by way of stealing the cab with Augustine and driving off without her.

"Hey kiddo." Pyrrha tried, and found it not unpleasant to say. "Uh, you got a good grip."

"Ahhh." Said the baby.

"Yeah," Pyrrha said, trying not to choke on how fucking precious this little life is, and how close it was to being snuffed out. "Me too."

Pyrrha Dve was going to make some changes, she decided it then and there. She was going to make some calls, she was going to get her act together.

She was gonna be a mom, the best mom she could be. And it all started by nearly tripping over a cardboard box on the side of the highway.

[ghelgheli]

According to Marx, metabolic rift appears in three different levels and forms. First and most fundamentally, metabolic rift is the material disruption of cyclical processes in natural metabolism under the regime of capital. Marx’s favourite example is the exhaustion of the soil by modern agriculture. Modern large-scale, industrial agriculture makes plants absorb soil nutrition as much as and as fast as possible so that they can be sold to customers in large cities even beyond national borders. It was Justus von Liebig’s Agricultural Chemistry (1862) and his theory of metabolism that prompted Marx to integrate an analysis of the ‘robbery’ system of agriculture into Capital. [...]

Liebig harshly criticized modern ‘robbery agriculture’ (Raubbau), which only aims at the maximization of short-term profit and lets plants absorb as many nutrients from the soil as possible without replenishing them. Market competition drives farmers to large-scale agriculture, intensifying land usage without sufficient management and care. As a consequence, modern capitalist agriculture created a dangerous disruption in the metabolic cycle of soil nutrients. [...]

Marx formulated the problem of soil exhaustion as a contradiction created by capitalist production in the metabolism between humans and nature. Insofar as value cannot fully take the metabolism between humans and nature into account and capitalist production prioritizes the infinite accumulation of value, the realization of sustainable production within capitalism faces insurmountable barriers.

This fundamental level of metabolic rift in the form of the disruption of material flow cannot occur without being supplemented and reinforced by two further dimensions. The second dimension of metabolic rift is the spatial rift. Marx highly valued Liebig in Capital because his Agricultural Chemistry provided a scientific foundation for his earlier critical analysis of the social division of labour, which he conceptualized as the ‘contradiction between town and country’ in The German Ideology. Liebig lamented that those crops that are sold in modern large cities do not return to the original soil after they are consumed by the workers. Instead, they flow into the rivers as sewage via water closets, only strengthening the tendency towards soil exhaustion.

This antagonistic spatial relationship between town and country – it can be called ‘spatial rift’ – is founded upon a violent process of so-called primitive accumulation accompanied by depeasantization and massive urban growth of the working-class population concentrated in large cities. This not only necessitates the long-distance transport of products but also significantly increases the demand for agricultural products in large cities, leading to continuous cropping without fallowing under large-scale agriculture, which is intensified even more through market competition. In other words, robbery agriculture does not exist without the social division of labour unique to capitalist production, which is based upon the concentration of the working class in large cities and the corresponding necessity for the constant transport of their food from the countryside. [...]

The third dimension of metabolic rift is the temporal rift. As is obvious from the slow formation of soil nutrients and fossil fuels and the accelerating circulation of capital, there emerges a rift between nature’s time and capital’s time. Capital constantly attempts to shorten its turnover time and maximize valorization in a given time – the shortening of turnover time is an effective way of increasing the quantity of profit in the face of the decreasing rate of profit. This process is accompanied by increasing demands for floating capital in the form of cheap and abundant raw and auxiliary materials. Furthermore, capital constantly revolutionizes the production process, augmenting productive forces with an unprecedented speed compared with precapitalist societies. Productive forces can double or triple with the introduction of new machines, but nature cannot change its formation processes of phosphor or fossil fuel, so ‘it was likely that productivity in the production of raw materials would tend not to increase as rapidly as productivity in general (and, accordingly, the growing requirements for raw materials)’ (Lebowitz 2009: 138). This tendency can never be fully suspended because natural cycles exist independently of capital’s demands. Capital cannot produce without nature, but it also wishes that nature would vanish. [...]

The contradiction of capitalist accumulation is that increases in the social productivity are accompanied by a decrease in natural productivity due to robbery [... i]t is thus essential for capital to secure stable access to cheap resources, energy and food. [...]

The exploration of the earth and the invention of new technologies cannot repair the rift. The rift remains ‘irreparable’ in capitalism. This is because capital attempts to overcome rifts without recognizing its own absolute limits, which it cannot do. Instead, it simply attempts to relativize the absolute. This is what Marx meant when he wrote ‘every limit appears a barrier to overcome’ (Grundrisse: 408). Capital constantly invents new technologies, develops means of transportation, discovers new use-values and expands markets to overcome natural limits. [...]

Corresponding to the three dimensions of metabolic rifts, there are also three ways of shifting them. First, there is technological shift. Although Liebig warned about the collapse of European civilization due to robbery agriculture in the 19th century, his prediction apparently did not come true. This is largely thanks to Fritz Haber and Carl Bosch, who invented the so-called Haber-Bosch process in 1906 that enabled the industrial mass production of ammonia (NH3) by fixing nitrogen from the air, and thus of chemical fertilizer to maintain soil fertility. Historically speaking, the problem of soil exhaustion due to a lack of inorganic substances was largely resolved thanks to this invention. Nevertheless, the Haber-Bosch process did not heal the rift but only shifted, generating other problems on a larger scale.

The production of NH3 uses a massive amount of natural gas as a source of hydrogen (H). In other words, it squanders another limited resource in order to produce ammonia as a remedy to soil exhaustion, but it is also quite energy intensive, producing a lot of carbon dioxide (CO2) (responsible for 1 per cent of the total carbon emission in the world). Furthermore, excessive applications of chemical fertilizer leach into the environment, causing eutrophication and red tide, while nitrogen oxide pollutes water. Overdependence on chemical fertilizer disrupts soil ecology, so that it results in soil erosion, low water- and nutrient-holding capacity, and increased vulnerability to diseases and insects. Consequently, more frequent irrigation, a larger amount of fertilizer and more powerful equipment become necessary, together with pesticides. This kind of industrial agriculture consumes not just water but large quantities of oil also, which makes agriculture a serious driver of climate change. [...]

[T]here remains a constant need to shift the rift under capitalism, which continues to bring about new problems. This contradiction becomes more discernible in considering the second type of shifting the metabolic rift – that is, spatial shift, which expands the antagonism of the city and the countryside to a global scale in favour of the Global North. Spatial shift creates externality by a geographic displacement of ecological burdens to another social group living somewhere else. Again, Marx discussed this issue in relation to soil exhaustion in core capitalist countries in the 19th century. On the coast of Peru there were small islands consisting of the excrement of seabirds called guano that had accumulated over many years to form ‘guano islands’. [...]

In the 19th century, guano became ‘necessary’ to sustain soil fertility in Europe. Millions of tons of guano were dug up and continuously exported to Europe, resulting in its rapid exhaustion. Extractivism was accompanied by the brutal oppression of Indigenous people and the severe exploitation of thousands of Chinese ‘c**lies’ working under cruel conditions. Ultimately, the exhaustion of guano reserves provoked the Guano War (1865–6) and the Saltpetre War (1879–84) in the battle for the remaining guano reserves. As John Bellamy Foster and Brett Clark (2009) argue, such a solution in favour of the Global North resulted in ‘ecological imperialism’. Although ecological imperialism shifts the rift to the peripheries and makes its imminent violence invisible in the centre, the metabolic rift only deepens on a global scale through long-distance trade, and the nutrient cycle becomes even more severely disrupted.

The third dimension of metabolic shift is the temporal shift. The discrepancy between nature’s time and capital’s time does not immediately bring about an ecological disaster because nature possesses ‘elasticity’. Its limits are not static but modifiable to a great extent. Climate crisis is a representative case of this metabolic shift. Massive CO2 emissions due to the excessive usage of fossil fuels is an apparent cause of climate change, but the emission of greenhouse gas does not immediately crystallize as climate breakdown. Capital exploits the opportunities opened up by this time lag to secure more profits from previous investments in drills and pipelines. Since capital reflects the voice of current shareholders, but not that of future generations, the costs are shifted onto the latter. As a result, future generations suffer from consequences for which they are not responsible. Marx characterized such an attitude inherent to capitalist development with the slogan ‘Après moi le déluge!’ (Capital I: 381).

This time lag generated by a temporal shift also induces a hope that it would be possible to invent new epoch-making technologies to combat against the ecological crisis in the future. In fact, one may think that it is better to continue economic growth which promotes technological development, rather than over-reducing carbon dioxide emissions and adversely affecting the economy. However, even if new negative emission technologies such as carbon capture and storage (CCS) are invented, it will take a long time for them to spread throughout society and replace the old ones. In the meantime, the environmental crisis will continue to worsen due to our current inaction. As a result, the expected effects of the new technology can be cancelled out.

Kohei Saito, Marx in the Anthropocene

[phoenixgrl1412]

DPxDC Idea - Parents and Dead on Main

This post is more setup/background info for what could be a larger story. If I ever write more of this, I'll link it back to this post.

For clarity, I do use the term 'human' to refer to those who are alive and don't live in the Infinite Realms. I am sorry there is so much worldbuilding and so very little Dead on Main

-----

Danielle (nicknamed Ellie because Dani would be way to confusing and she is her own person) starts to destabilize again, but the cure from before doesn't work. It's beyond what Danny can do on his own, so he takes Ellie to Frostbite.

Frostbite tells the duo that basically, Ellie's core formed incorrectly. Her core has been struggling to keep her alive until now, but it can't hang on any longer.

But! There is a solution! They can take Ellie's core and basically force it to revert to a pre-formation state. They'll then be able to artificially generate the conditions needed for Ellie's core to begin forming correctly on it's own. At that point, Ellie will be able to grow at a normal rate, but they won't be able to artificially age her up.

In simpler terms, they can de-age her to an itty bitty ghost egg (or whatever you want to call it, maybe embryo?), and then trigger the change that makes her an itty bitty baby halfa. She'll have to age normally after that.

It's to save her life, and without it she'll turn to goo and she's running out of time, so they do it. Ellie becomes a baby! A baby halfa!

It's important to note that a baby ghost is not the same as a human baby. The term "baby ghost" refers to two things. 1) newly formed ghosts and 2) child ghosts who may still "age" and alter their form to match that of an adults. When a new ghost's core is fully formed, that's when they stop being a baby ghost. The time it takes to be fully formed can vary from ghost to ghost.

Following this definition, after the de-aging, Ellie is a baby ghost. At the start of the show when the portal had just opened, Danny was a baby ghost. At some point, his core finished forming (more on that later, possibly in a separate post), so he isn't a baby ghost any longer. Box Lunch is a baby ghost because not only is she newly formed, but she will, presumably, age into an adult form. Youngblood is not a baby ghost, because even though he is a child, he has determined that he will NOT age and take on an adult form. Being child sized is his adult form.

When it comes to the question of who will raise Ellie, there are complications. Ordinarily, Frostbite and the Far Frozen would be happy to raise her, especially as a favor to Danny. However, Ellie is a halfa. She needs to be able to spend time in the human world and amongst living people, not just ghosts in the Infinite Realms. Vlad isn't an option for obvious reasons, so Danny is it.

It helps that, in the years since Ellie was created, he'd taken on a parental role towards Ellie. So, even if he wasn't the only option, he would have been the best option anyway.

So, Danny is a dad now. I'm imagining him at 20-23 years old, so he's going to have that I'm-a-new-dad-and-I-have-no-idea-what-I'm-doing energy like, all the time now.

But here's the thing about baby ghosts, and it's not any different for baby halfas. They form a bond with the ghosts around them, literally a bond between their cores. They rely on those bonds to know they're safe, as the baby ghost's core isn't developed enough to protect them. Baby ghosts feed on emotions until they can process ectoplasm, so they also rely on these bonds for nutritional reasons.

These bonds are familial in nature and will carry into adulthood. The bonds can always change, but it's a lot harder to change the bonds when a baby ghost is involved. Not only because a baby ghost may not be able to communicate very well, but also because changing a bond is stressful on cores that aren't fully developed.

It's also important for a baby ghost to have lots of bonds. The parental bonds they form will be the most important, but having other bonds is a key part to the development of a ghost. As they get older, these bonds can influence who the ghost becomes as an individual, much like how living children are influenced by those they spend a lot of time around. A baby ghost is most influenced by the ghosts they have parental bonds with.

A parental bond doesn't mean a biological parent, though it can be. Using Box Lunch as an example, she'd have parental bonds with Box Ghost and Lunch Lady. But, parental bonds can be formed with adoptive parents or mentors, and there can be more than two parental bonds. Ghosts tend to stop forming parental bonds once they reach adolescence, but it's not a firm rule or anything.

A ghost with only one parental bond, however, is going to be almost solely influenced by that parent ghost, especially if they are an actual baby like Ellie is. And in the case of a baby halfa whose only parental bond is the person whose DNA she's based off of? Yeah, she's going to end up to be almost identical to Danny, which isn't what anyone wants.

At first, Danny thinks it isn't a problem. Jazz, Tucker, and Sam are liminal enough that even if they don't have true cores, they can form the bonds that ghosts do. They are also living, so they'll be beneficial to the development of her human half. One of them can form a parental bond with Ellie, they're going to be big parts of her life anyway, problem solved!

Or not solved. When Ellie was de-aged, she kept the bonds she'd already formed. She's got a parental bond with Danny, but aunt/uncle/niece bonds with Jazz, Tucker, and Sam. And as previously mentioned, it's awfully difficult to change the type of bond a baby ghost has with someone.

And so, Danny needs to find another halfa, or someone human but liminal, to raise a child with. Danny has been living in Gotham, and the most liminal person he's met is a hot guy who makes death jokes and goes by the name of Jason Todd.

Is dating his co-parent required? No, but Danny is not going to pass on hitting that. Jason Todd is the most attractive person Danny has ever seen.

-----

Jason: *walks into the batcave, holding a tiny sleeping child in one arm*

Batfam: *stares*

Jason: *moves around as evenly as possible to not wake the kiddo*

Batfam: *stares some more* *realizes the kid has black hair and blue eyes*

Jason: *digs through a pile of old gear without a sound* *makes calming sounds when the kiddo shifts around* *does what he needs to and leaves with the sleeping kiddo*

Batfam:

Stephanie, probably: Damn, I bet on Dick. Who put money on Jason inheriting Bruce's adoption problem?

-----

Ellie falling asleep on Jason while he's Red Hood, and he can't do anything because cat rules apply for tiny, sleeping baby halfas.

-----

Jason showing up with baby Ellie around the batfam, who have no idea why he has a kid or where she came from. Jason isn't going to tell them shit, so he refuses to say anything about her and might have taken it too far.

Baby Ellie: *sneezes adorably* *accidentally shoots an ectoblast at the wall of Jason's safehouse because she can't control her powers*

Dick: I get that you don't want to talk about the kiddo, but can we talk about the fact that she has meta abilities and that you now have a hole in your wall that's still smoking?

Jason: what are you talking about? what hole?

Dick: The one right behind you?

Jason: oh, that? been there for weeks, keep meaning to fix it but haven't gotten to it yet

Dick:

Dick: I literally watched the kiddo shoot a green blast at the wall just now

Jason: *wiping Ellie's nose and then picking her up so she can rest her head on his shoulder* what kid?

Dick: *screams internally*

-----

Tim coming up with conspiracy theories as to why Jason has a kid that sometimes has Lazarus green eyes. His theories become more and more wild the longer he goes without sleep.

Tim's current theory is a mass, drug induced hallucination because Jason never confirms that there is even a child, even if he's holding her.

Jason comes home and tells Danny all of Tim's new theories, just to make him laugh. Not only is Danny's laugh one of the best sounds, but when Ellie hears him laughing, she starts laughing too even though she doesn't know why one of her dads is laughing. Jason would do anything to make sure his two favorite people always have a reason to laugh and be happy.

[bookwyrminspiration]

do you think elves have the same nutritional value as humans? on account of how similar they are? or do the abilities and infinite lifespans add a lil something? please respond promptly thx

[know-fear]

I finally did it! I successfully sped run SH4, twice! Once to unlock one weapon mode, and then again to unlock all weapon mode. I was a bit nervous at first, as I always am with any speedrun...but I managed through. Now I can enjoy all the infinite nutritional drinks and ammo as I try to unlock Cynthia's secret costume.

[ak-vintage]

Quarry - Chapter 4

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Reader is Mando's bounty, second-person POV, Din Djarin POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, starship mechanics, unresolved sexual tension, light angst

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

By the time Din Djarin returned to the Mos Eisley spaceport and hangar three-five, almost three full days had passed, and he came laden with sacks of supplies for his next foray into deep space. Ration packs, nutrition supplements, medical supplies, a broad selection of ammunition for his many weapons, and – the crown jewel – a selection of fresh produce he had been promised would last at least another two weeks if properly stored. He had even managed to pick up some short-term contract work as a body guard for a visiting trade syndicate representative in Mos Eisley on business; the pay from that had easily covered the cost of his restock. He hoped it would cover Peli Motto’s bill, as well.

A ship repair hadn’t exactly been part of his plans for this run, but although it had delayed him by a few days, he stood by the choice. For all of its charms, the Razor Crest had never been properly equipped to handle prisoners without the aftermarket mobile carbonite freezer unit he had had installed a few years back. It had been his first big purchase after he finally started making enough money to pay for fuel, contribute to the covert, and also manage to feed himself, and its addition to the ship had made his life infinitely easier. Especially now with Grogu to look after, he couldn’t afford to have bounties loose in his ship, even if they were in binders. It wasn’t safe. Truthfully, he knew he had gotten lucky that his first quarry on this trip hadn’t been more dangerous.

As they often had over the last few days, Din’s thoughts turned toward the woman he had left in Peli’s care alongside his foundling. You were… Well, to say that you puzzled him would be an understatement. In all his travels, he was certain that he had never met anyone quite like you.

He could tell that you were not a skilled fighter, and yet you had attempted to evade capture, to outrun him. It had been unsuccessful, of course, but he couldn’t help but admire the effort.

You possessed a strong spirit, unwavering and stubborn, and he also knew that you were deeply frightened to have landed in his captivity.

You had a sharp, biting wit, but even from your first encounter, you had handled Grogu with a softness, a tenderness that Din had rarely experienced.

You were beautiful. Distractingly so.

Altogether, it left him…unsettled. He could not help but feel eager to be rid of you, if only to save himself from the disquieting thought that perhaps there was more for him to discover about you.

That, of course, was preposterous. There was nothing more. You were a quarry. There was a bounty on your head. He had accepted the task of tracking you down and turning you in, and he would be paid well for the effort. That was that. Bounty hunters didn’t ask questions.

Until recently, Din had actually been quite good at that part of the job. He felt a brief surge of thankfulness for the anonymity of his helmet as he rolled his eyes at himself. He was growing soft.

As the Mandalorian crossed the threshold into hangar three-five, he was met with the familiar sight of Peli leaning heavily against the exterior wall of her office, thumbing at a datapad as her pit droids milled about the place, tittering and whirring at each other.

“Ah! Mando!” she called out, flagging him down with a grin the moment she spotted him. “Welcome back! Successful trip?”

“Successful enough,” he replied tersely. His eyes hadn’t stopped scanning the hangar for evidence of his foundling as he approached, but the little green child was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s the kid?”

Peli waved him off dismissively. “Don’t worry, he’s just with the girl. You know, she came up with this slick design for a carrier for him? He’s been happy as a Nabooian clam riding around in that thing! She’ll be out in a minute, I expect.” She nodded in the direction of the Razor Crest, glinting brightly in the afternoon sun in the center of the hangar. “Just putting the finishing touches on the hyperdrive.”

Din felt his eyebrows raise inside his helmet. “The hyperdrive?” he echoed flatly. The beginnings of aggravation itched in his chest. “I asked you fix the carbonite unit.”

“Cool your jetpack, Mando – I fixed your carbonite unit,” the engineer assured him, extending her palms placatingly. “It’s good as new! Well, pretty sure it’s good as new – guess you’ll have to find out when you try to seal a bounty in there! I wasn’t about to test it myself. I’m thorough, but I’m not that thorough. You understand.”

Drawing a centering breath deep into his lungs, he repeated, “Peli. The hyperdrive?”

“Listen. The list of systems on the Razor Crest that needed a tune-up was a mile long. I had time, I had help, and I knew you wouldn’t mind a bit of extra output! What self-respecting starship pilot is going to say no to a bit more efficiency, eh?”

“What do you mean, you had help?” Din gave up on attempting to reign in his irritation. His words were clipped, his tone gruff. Peli was a friend – she was good to Grogu, and she was a damn fine mechanic – but dank farrik, what he wouldn’t give for her to get to the point. Something about this situation wasn’t sitting quite right with him. Where was the child? “What exactly is going on here?”

A metallic thud, like the sound of someone dropping from a height onto deck plating, reverberated from inside the Razor Crest. His gaze snapped to the ship immediately, his senses on high alert.

Peli, however, seemed less than concerned. “Why don’t you see for yourself?” she suggested with a shrug, gesturing in the direction of the Crest.

Almost as if on cue, you stepped into the light of the afternoon sun from the belly of his ship, and Din’s breath seemed to seize in his chest.

It was as though you had transformed into a different woman than you had been when he left you here three days ago. Your long, braided hair had been wound up at the nape of your neck and partially covered with a scarf that you had tied around your head, and a welder’s helmet perched precariously on top of that, the tinted shield flipped up so you could see clearly. You had stripped the top half of your olive-green boilersuit down your body and tied the sleeves together low on your waist, leaving your chest covered in nothing but a sweat-soaked black band around your breasts. Your skin gleamed with exertion in the sunlight, highlighting the smoothness of your forehead, the hollow of your neck, the soft angle of your shoulders, and you were painted with the grime of engine oil and durasteel dust. You had a fusion cutter in your gloved hand, your grip practiced and strong.

And, as if all of that were not enough, there, strapped in a padded leather harness across your back, peaking up over your shoulder, was Grogu.

After a beat too long of silence, you seemed to spot him in the shade of the hangar, and you smiled softly. “Mando!” you called out, pointing to him. “Grogu, look – he’s back!”

Din watched as the child blinked in the direction that you had pointed, and then his little face split in a broad, toothy grin. He let out a joyful screech and immediately began squirming in his carrier, suddenly desperate to be let down.

You laughed – laughed – at this and began to descend the ramp, reaching back to lift Grogu from his post on your back and up over your shoulder. “Your little guy missed you,” you said fondly. You passed the child into the bounty hunter’s arms, that same softness he had noticed before dancing in the corners of your eyes. Din felt an inexplicable heat rising up his neck under his cowl.

Thankfully, both you and Grogu seemed oblivious to his body’s baffling response; you simply continued across the hangar, returning your fusion cutter to one of Peli’s many equipment racks, while Grogu babbled happy nonsense and gently patted the cheeks of Din’s helmet as though to say, “Welcome back.”

“Peli,” Din said, his voice strained and hoarse, “I’m only going to ask one more time. What. Is. Going. On.”

Peli rolled her eyes dramatically . “Your bounty here has skills, Mando!” she declared, gesturing emphatically at you with both her free hand and the one holding the datapad. “You had to know that! Took her less than a day to start pointing out all the stuff I was doing wrong. Figured I’d have her put her money where her mouth is.”

A bright flush made itself known on your cheeks, and you shook your head. “Excuse me – no, no. If you recall, I saved your life. And then you asked me to help you.”

“Details, details,” the older woman scoffed dismissively. “Look, Mando, she’s a starship engineer. And a damn good one, I’d say. She’s the one who figured out how to fix your carbonite freezer, not me.”

Din’s gaze snapped to you at that revelation, and he watched as you raised a hand to rub at the back of your neck in clear discomfort. You had fixed it?

Mentally, he quickly ran through all of the data in your bounty puck. Nowhere in your files had your profession been mentioned. How did you have the skills needed to repair something so sophisticated?

“I couldn’t just let her sit around on her hands the whole time you were gone,” Peli continued, completely unaware of Din’s distraction. “I mean, take a look at everything we’ve been able to get done with both of us on the job.” She passed him the datapad, pointing to the line items on the work order she had pulled up.

Din took a moment to study the list, both wary and reluctantly impressed. Peli wasn’t wrong – the amount of work the two of you had accomplished in just three days was staggering. In addition to the carbonite unit and a much-needed tune-up on the hyperdrive (which had apparently resulted in an efficiency gain of 25 percent), you and Peli had managed to replace about half of the Crest’s leaking powerlines, update the navigation to the latest operating system, recalibrate the deflector shield projectors around both engines, and scrub the carbon scoring from the Crest’s last fire fight from the hull. At the bottom of the list, a perfunctory five-credit charge had been added for something Peli had labeled as a “privacy screen.”

“This is…impressive,” he admitted. Grogu squealed happily in agreement from the cradle of Din’s arms.

The older engineer nodded, smirking in self-satisfaction. “Try it all out. You’ll see, it’s good work,” she said, gesturing toward the Crest. Din nodded once and strode up the gangplank, finding himself almost eager to see the improvements for himself.

He spent the next several minutes surveying the changes, noting that the repair of the carbonite freezer had apparently necessitated the complete disassembly of most of the starboard wall. He could also see where panels of the bulkheads and deck plating had been displaced to access other tubes and powerlines, though if this were not his ship, if he didn’t know it better than his own reflection, he wasn’t certain that he would have noticed. Everything had been re-assembled flawlessly, the only evidence of tampering being the slightly shiny look of freshly-welded solder along the panels’ joints.

However, he nearly burst into laughter when his eyes landed on the change that clearly had to be the “privacy screen” Peli had referred to in the work order. In the space between his bunk alcove and the port wall, a steel rod had been mounted, and a thick, black tarp had been hung from it, attached with a series of matching metal rings.

You had installed a makeshift curtain in front of the ship head.

Trusting that he would be able to test the improvements to the hyperdrive once he was out of the atmosphere, Din returned to the hangar, still chuckling under his breath.

“Well?” Peli prompted, crossing her arms across her chest in a confident pose.

“This is more than I could have asked for, especially given the time,” he replied honestly. He glanced back and forth between the two of you, noting the way Peli’s smirk expanded into a grin and the way your posture seemed to loosen as if in relief. “Thank you.”

“Aw, shucks, Mando! No need to thank me,” the older woman insisted. In spite of the dismissal, her voice couldn’t hide her pleasure at the praise. “Just sign at the bottom of that work order and hand over the credits! That’s always thanks enough!”

Din sighed, hearing it as a gruff hissing sound as his vocoder transmitted it. Why was he not surprised? “Yes. Of course,” he agreed, pulling the work order back up on the datapad. The price quoted at the bottom was significantly more than he had planned on spending (which, he knew, was very much intentional on Peli’s part), but the work was already done, and the security job he had just been paid for made it so he wouldn’t have to dip into his profits from this trip too much. He signed the work order with the tip of his finger. “This should do it, I think.” Reaching into a pouch on his utility belt, he pulled out a sizeable cloth drawstring bag, half-full with New Republic credits, and dropped it into Peli’s waiting hands.

Peli yanked the bag open immediately, assessing its contents with a keen eye. “That it will, my friend. That it will.”

Now that the hangar operator had been satisfied, Din turned his attention to you. At some point during this exchange, you had removed the welder’s helmet and your gloves, and you were in the process of untying the dusty scarf from around your head, revealing your hair. You had been sweating, and tendrils of it clung damply to your forehead, ears, and neck.

Shoving each of these inappropriate observations to the back of his mind, he cleared his throat and said, “So. You’re a starship engineer. I didn’t know.”

You seemed taken aback by that statement, your eyes narrowing and your brow crinkling in puzzlement. “Huh. Well. Like I told Peli. I’m not…exactly a starship engineer. But I suppose I might as well be.” You paused for a moment as you tugged your lower lip between your teeth. You seemed to debate something for a beat, and then you added, “I worked in the Chardaan Shipyards for almost a decade. I guess I thought you already knew that?” You phrased that statement like a question, confusion evident in your tone. “Didn’t you get a bunch of background information on me when you accepted my bounty puck?”

The Mandalorian shrugged. “Every bounty is different. Yours was…sparse. Planet of origin, last known location, your name. Some biometric data that allowed me to find you with your tracking fob. Nothing else.”

You seemed to digest that for a moment, your expression thoughtful, but before you could comment further, Peli interrupted.

“Hang on, honey – did you say the Chardaan Shipyards? The one where the New Republic has their fighters built?”

You nodded, a tight, closed-mouth smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Of course, Din had heard of the Chardaan Shipyards. Anyone who knew anything about starships knew about them – the conglomerate of pressurized hangar spheres orbiting the planet Chardaan in the Inner Rim, the home of some of the most well-known custom starship and engine producers in the galaxy and the shipyard of choice for the New Republic since the days of the Galactic Civil War. He knew your bounty originated on Chardaan, though it hadn’t occurred to him that that might have been a clue as to your personal history. You had been easy enough to find, even easier to capture. He hadn’t bothered to dig any deeper than that. For some reason, that ignited a pang of guilt in his gut. He typically made it his business to know everything there was to know about his quarries. If he knew their history, if he understood them, he could walk in their shoes – predict their next move.

“That explains a lot,” Peli quipped, putting words to Din’s disorganized thoughts.

You didn’t respond, but regardless, an idea occurred to him then, and he couldn’t stop himself from taking a step toward you.

“You could have repaired the Razor Crest on your own. The carbonite freezer, the hyperdrive, the powerlines, all of it,” he said, trying to keep the accusation out of his voice and only partially succeeding.

A blush burned high on your cheeks, and you stepped back, bringing your bare arms to wrap around your midriff defensively. A heavy silence descended on the hangar, and you looked away. You were chewing on your lip again, digging your teeth into the rosy flesh, and Din allowed the quiet to linger, allowed you to come to your response on your own.

“Yes,” you eventually whispered. “I could have.”

“You never said.” Din recalled the way you had known the carbonite unit was broken before he did, the way you sat in the Razor Crest’s cargo hold, cradling Grogu, and watched him futilely attempt to repair it, the way you had sat back and allowed Peli to take the lead on the ship repair in his absence. Had he even needed to come to Tatooine? If you could have done it on your own…

You sighed then, your expression shifting from guilt to something like annoyance. “Mando… Come on. Why would I help my captor fix something he has already promised he will use against me?” You reached down to the tied sleeves of your boilersuit then and began tugging the garment back up your torso and over your arms. “That’s why we’re here, right?” you continued, your voice picking up speed and intensity as you spoke. “Peli and I did a bunch of other work, but it was the carbonite unit you were after. Why would I make it easier for you to put me in stasis? I’ve seen what that thing can do to people with just…the smallest miscalculation. Why would I volunteer for that?”

If you are able to fix it…are you going to freeze me?

Are you going to try to run again?

Three days, you had been here. No restraints, no locked doors, just a few meters away from potential freedom. You hadn’t run. Instead, you had repaired the means of your continued captivity. Why?

“Then why help fix it at all?” Din asked incredulously. “Why not just let Peli – ”

“Because her life was in danger,” you cut in. You seemed almost offended at the suggestion that you ought to have done something different. “Carbonite technology is dangerous, and not just for the people imprisoned in it. I wasn’t going to let her die just for the chance of keeping myself out of stasis.”

Peli chose that moment to weigh in. “It’s true, Mando. It was almost ‘time’s up’ for old Peli – if your girl hadn’t caught a gas leak, I’d have blown myself and your ship sky high.”

“And…” you shrugged, less defensive now, “It was better than doing nothing at all. It’s been a while since I got the chance to get my hands on a pre-Empire vessel. It was…nice.”

Din frowned. He had underestimated you. Not just your technical capabilities, but your character. He hadn’t met many bounties who would sacrifice their own freedom for someone they hardly knew. Unbidden, the memory of what you had said when you learned about the threats to Grogu’s life echoed through his mind. How could I ever hurt him?

There was no way he was going to be able to sleep at night if he froze you. The guilt would eat him alive.

“Well.” He paused, considering his next words carefully. “You’ve done fine work. Both of you.”

Peli grinned toothily and offered Grogu a tiny high-five. “Damn right, we did!”

“Unfortunately, I’m not able to compensate you for your work,” he continued, addressing you directly. “However, I would be willing to consider allowing you to remain out of stasis for the remainder of this run. In exchange for some additional maintenance work on the Crest as we travel. As a thank you.”

All of the breath seemed to leave you at once – your shoulders sagged, your mouth dropped open, and you allowed yourself to drop back to lean against the sandstone wall of the hangar. “You’re serious?” you asked softly, bewildered.

Din nodded once. “You’ve demonstrated that you can be trusted without restraints. You’ve been kind to my foundling. And you’re a talented engineer.” He paused for a moment, then added, “You have to understand, I will need to turn you in once I’ve collected the other quarries. I accepted your bounty puck – my Guild agent is owed a return of the asset. I can’t go back on my word. It’s against the Guild code, and against mine. But…I see no reason for you to suffer in the meantime.”

You broke his gaze, staring down at your hands. After a few seconds of contemplation, you murmured, “I understand.” With a nod seemingly to yourself, you pushed away from the wall, closed the distance between you, and extended a hand to shake on it. “It’s a deal.”

Din accepted your hand, finding it to be small in comparison to his own, but your grip was strong, and he felt his lips curl into a small smile behind his helmet.

With an affable grin, Peli patted each of you on the back bracingly. “See, Mando? Everything works out!” she crowed.

And Din thought that perhaps she was right.

___

With the matter of payment already settled, it took only a handful of minutes for the Mandalorian to load his many sacks of supply purchases into the Razor Crest and begin his pre-flight checks. With Peli’s blessing, you took those sacred few minutes to duck into her ‘fresher and take a break-neck sonic shower, eager to get the sweat, engine grime, and Tatooine desert dust off your skin before you settled in for another indeterminate period of time in deep space.

As the sonic waves vibrated and lifted away specks of oil and dirt faster than your eyes could follow, you felt as though your thoughts were moving just as quickly. You had known the risks when you stepped in to assist with the carbonite freezer repair. You had fully anticipated that the moment Mando returned and confirmed that it was once again operational, his first action would be to seal you away in frigid, half-life stasis between two sheets of carbonite. Regardless, you had done what you needed to do to keep Peli safe and to keep the Razor Crest intact. You had never expected compensation for that choice.

To know that the bounty hunter recognized this, to know that he acknowledged not only your technical skills but your sacrifice, and saw fit to offer you what he could in exchange was both validating and deeply unsettling.

Resentment and bitterness still clung to your sentiments toward the Mandalorian. You could appreciate that he was just doing his job, that he had been given a task and he was executing on that task for payment, just like anyone else trying to make a living in the galaxy. He ensured you were well fed, he offered you medicine when you were injured, he left you in the care of a kind woman when he had to leave, and now, he was giving you the opportunity to remain both out of stasis and out of your restraints for the next several weeks while he finished his hunt. There was man of honor buried under all that stoicism and beskar. You couldn’t deny it.

But before he had come into your life, before he had stood across from you on the other side of your bar with your bounty puck glowing in the dim cantina lighting, you had finally gotten a taste of freedom. You had gotten to choose the clothes you wore, the food you ate, how long you slept. You had been paid a fair wage, and you had gotten to choose how you spent it. You had even started to make friends, which wasn’t something you had experienced since childhood. It was a life unlike any you had known before, and you had relished it.

Every time you caught yourself thinking somewhat fondly of the Mandalorian and the respectful, almost gentle way he treated you, you were immediately reminded that if it were not for him, that freedom would still be yours.

What he was offering you was far better than the carbonite alternative, and you would be a fool to turn it down. But it was not true freedom. It was temporary, false. You were grateful, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t leave a touch of sourness in your stomach.

Your mind was still cloudy when you emerged from the ‘fresher, your long hair clean and soft against your neck as you braided it back away from your face once more. You spotted Mando immediately, hovering near the ramp up into the Razor Crest, Grogu balanced contentedly on his hip. You smiled involuntarily. In spite of your complicated feelings toward his caretaker, you couldn’t seem to muster any negative sentiments toward the child. He was easily the best part of your current situation, with his toothy smiles and his sweet babbles and his giant, bug-like eyes. After the life you had lived, he brought a softness out in you that you hadn’t been certain you still possessed, and you adored him for it.

“Ah, there she is!” Peli called out, shading her eyes and spotting you in the shadow of the overhang.

Mando turned to face you, his impenetrable black visor reflecting a mirror image of the surrounding hangar. “Come,” he said, beckoning to you with orange-tipped fingers. “It’s time to leave.”

You nodded once and crossed quickly into the beaming sunlight.

Peli smiled at you, offering you a firm handshake. “Well, missy, not often do I get to work with someone like you around here,” she said brightly. “It was fun. Maybe we’ll get to do it again sometime.”

You swallowed hard and fought to muster up a smile in return. You wondered if that was just a platitude, something people said to one another when parting ways, or if she meant it. You weren’t sure which one you would prefer.  

“Yeah, maybe we will.” You hoped your voice didn’t sound as shaky to her as it did to you. The Guild is sending me back to Chardaan. We’ll never see each other again, you thought.

“And you take good care of the little guy, Mando, you hear?” The older woman stepped forward and offered Grogu an affectionate rub of one large ear. “See you later, bright eyes.”

Mando nodded in her direction. “Thank you again,” he said. With a gesture that told you to follow him, he strode up the ramp and disappeared into the cargo hold, you close on his heels.

As the gangplank retracted and the blast doors closed, the bounty hunter passed Grogu into your arms.

“I’m going to get us out of the atmosphere,” he rasped through his helmet modulator. “There’s fresh fruit in the chiller locker if you’re hungry.”

The child cooed at that, and you felt the corners of your mouth turn up in spite of yourself. “Sure, thanks,” you said. Mando quickly ascended the ladder up into the cockpit then, leaving you and his foundling to your own devices.

Grabbing a meiloorun from storage, you settled yourself on top of one of the anonymous gray cargo bins, Grogu watching your every move with interest as you peeled back the skin and exposed the sweet flesh inside. You took a bite as you heard the Razor Crest’s engines turn over, and you passed the fruit to the child as you felt the landing gear retract beneath you. He dug in with gusto, his ears wiggling in approval as juice dripped down his chin and onto his brown robes, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the deck above drew your gaze away from the spectacle, and a moment later, the Mandalorian dropped down the ladder into the cargo hold.

“We’ll get out of the system then jump to hyperspace,” he said somewhat absently as he examined a datapad that he had brought with him from the cockpit. He grabbed one of the several packs he had loaded onto the Crest from his supply run and began pulling various items out, appearing to record them on the datapad in some kind of inventory. He said nothing more, and it left you feeling a bit out of place just sitting and watching him while he worked.  

After what felt like several minutes of this, you cleared your throat. “So…what happens now?” you asked, your hands twisting hesitantly in your lap.

Mando did not look up at you, ostensibly fully absorbed in his task. “Now, I move on to the next bounty,” he said. “And you do what you did with Peli. Identify systems on the Razor Crest that need your attention and repair them accordingly.”

You frowned slightly at that. “I’m sure you know that some work I won’t be able to do while we’re in hyperspace. Some things will have to wait until we’ve landed somewhere.” You were already mentally running through the list of systems in need of repairs based on the diagnostics you and Peli had run before you left Tatooine. There were more powerlines to replace, the air recycler was well past due for a cleaning, not to mention you were certain that given enough time, you could get more out of the Razor Crest’s hyperdrive than it was currently giving you…

“I’m aware,” the bounty hunter agreed. “Those are things you can work on while I’m away on a hunt.”

“You want me to stay on the ship by myself while you hunt?” You did nothing to hide the discomfort in your voice. In spite of your complex emotions surrounding the Mandalorian, you felt as though you would be safer with him than you would be on your own. You didn’t know the first thing about bounty hunting, but surely it would be taking you to some…unsavory places? Did he really want you to stay behind?

That was finally enough to get him to look at you. Dropping the datapad into the supply bag, he turned in your direction, crossing his arms over his broad, armored chest. “Do you know how to handle a blaster?” he asked impatiently.

You shook your head. “No.”

“What about a vibroblade?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head again. “…no.”

“Then yes, I want you to stay on the ship while I hunt. It’s too dangerous to take someone with no combat training into the field. You’ll be safer here with the ground defense systems activated.” His tone carried a note of finality you knew better than to argue against. You supposed you could understand his stance, and though you didn’t relish the idea of being cooped up in the narrow walls of the Razor Crest for days on end, you knew yourself well enough to acknowledge that you didn’t have the skills you would need to be of any help against another bounty.

“And, if you’re up for it,” he added after a moment, “Grogu will stay here with you.”

You felt your eyebrows raise at that, but you didn’t protest. “Sure. I don’t mind keeping an eye on him,” you said. The little guy had a streak of mischief in him a mile wide, but he was also incredibly sweet, and he seemed fond of you. You knew that if he ever got out of hand, you could simply strap him to your body in the carrier you had fashioned for him, and he would be content.

Mando nodded at that. “Then it’s settled.” Turning back to his inventory task, he continued, “You’re welcome to any of the food or hygiene products we have on board. You don’t need to ask permission before you use something. The only thing off limits is that cabinet.” He pointed at the mysterious silver cabinet you had noticed days ago when you had been surveying the ship. A flickering control panel was mounted to the wall next it, which you knew meant it was locked. “Don’t attempt to open it,” he cautioned, his voice firm and dark. “If you do, I’ll know.”

Inexplicably, the harshness of the command sent a flash of heat through you, and you knew a blush had to be burning in your cheeks. “Understood,” you said, your throat suddenly dry. You looked away from him immediately, desperate to find somewhere else to rest your gaze.

As you did so, another thought occurred to you. “Um…one last thing?”

“Yes?” His reply was curt but not cold as he continued his work.

“Sleeping,” you said hesitantly. “Where should I sleep? If you have a few spare blankets, I can make do with the deck, it’s not a problem. I just don’t want to be somewhere where I’m going to get in your way.”

That seemed to give him pause, and he turned his head to you once more. After a brief silence, he answered, “There’s a bunk in the corner.” He said it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, as though he was confused as to why this was even a question.

You fought not to roll your eyes at him as your blush burned hotter. “No, I know, it’s just that…that’s your bunk,” you said.

The Mandalorian appeared to consider that for a moment before shrugging dismissively. “I’m accustomed to going long periods of time without sleep. It won’t be difficult for us to take turns.”

“Are you sure? I really wouldn’t mind sleeping somewhere else,” you insisted.

Rather than replying, he simply stared at you. It was clear that he wasn’t understanding your hesitance, and you thought perhaps it was best to just drop it before he began to question it further.

“Got it,” you said eventually. “I’ll use the bunk when I need it.”

“Good.”

“So what’s the next stop?” you asked after a beat. Grogu had finished the meiloorun, and you took the sticky remnants from him and hopped down off of the storage bin to toss it in the refuse recycler. “Where’s the next quarry?”

“There’s a bail jumper whose last known location was on Ryloth. I wasn’t planning on doing that one next, but it’s so close, I don’t know if I will be able to justify a trip back to this sector. It’s just a short jump down the Corellian Run,” the bounty hunter explained.

You considered this information for a moment. You knew little of the planet Ryloth; it was mostly known for being the home planet of the Twi’leks and for its somewhat treacherous terrain, so you didn’t feel as though you knew any better what to expect when you landed than you had a minute ago.

Just as you were using the back of your sleeve to wipe the meiloorun juice from Grogu’s mouth, Mando seemed to finish his inventorying.

“We should be well out of Tatooine’s star system by now. I’ll get us into hyperspace,” he said.

“We’ll be here,” you said, gesturing at the grinning child now nibbling absently on the wrist of your boilersuit.

Mando paused for a moment then, one foot on the ladder, and appeared to study you both. He glanced from you, to Grogu, and then back to you, and that blush came roaring back into your cheeks as you swore you could feel his gaze settling on your body through his helmet.

You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of that notion. What the kriff was wrong with you?

However, the moment passed as quickly as it had come. The bounty hunter appeared to almost shake himself, and then without another word, he took the ladder rungs two at a time and disappeared.