#Reclaimed Engineered Flooring

[ecotimber3]

Sustainable Style: Reclaimed Engineered Flooring by Eco Timber Group

In today's world, where sustainability and style are becoming increasingly intertwined, finding eco-friendly options for home decor is a priority for many. When it comes to flooring, the choice of materials can have a significant impact on both the environment and the aesthetics of your space. This is where reclaimed engineered flooring from Eco Timber Group shines as a beacon of sustainable style.

What is Reclaimed Engineered Flooring?

Reclaimed engineered flooring is a type of flooring that is crafted from reclaimed wood, often salvaged from old buildings, barns, or other structures. Unlike traditional solid wood flooring, which is made from single pieces of wood, engineered flooring is composed of multiple layers. These layers are designed to provide stability and durability, making engineered flooring an excellent choice for high-traffic areas and regions with fluctuating humidity levels.

The Eco-Friendly Advantage

One of the primary advantages of reclaimed engineered flooring is its eco-friendliness. By using reclaimed wood, Eco Timber Group helps to reduce the demand for virgin timber and minimize the environmental impact associated with deforestation. Additionally, the manufacturing process for engineered flooring requires less energy and resources compared to solid wood flooring, further reducing its carbon footprint.

Sustainable Style

Beyond its environmental benefits, reclaimed engineered flooring offers a unique aesthetic appeal. Each plank tells a story, with its distinct grain patterns, knots, and imperfections adding character and charm to any space. Whether you prefer the rustic charm of weathered barn wood or the timeless elegance of aged oak, Eco Timber Group offers a wide range of reclaimed wood species to suit your style preferences.

Durability and Performance

In addition to its eco-friendly and stylish qualities, reclaimed engineered flooring is also known for its durability and performance. The multiple layers of wood provide added stability, making it less prone to warping, shrinking, or expanding due to changes in temperature and humidity. This durability ensures that your flooring will stand the test of time, even in the busiest of households.

Versatility and Versatility

Reclaimed engineered flooring is incredibly versatile and can be installed in a variety of settings, from traditional to contemporary. Whether you're renovating a historic home or designing a modern loft, Eco Timber Group's reclaimed flooring options can complement any design aesthetic. Additionally, engineered flooring can be installed over a variety of subfloor materials, including concrete and radiant heating systems, making it suitable for almost any space.

Conclusion

In conclusion, reclaimed engineered flooring from Eco Timber Group offers a winning combination of sustainability, style, durability, and versatility. By choosing reclaimed wood for your flooring needs, you're not only making an eco-friendly choice but also adding a touch of timeless elegance to your home. With its unique character and long-lasting performance, reclaimed engineered flooring is sure to be a conversation starter and a source of pride for years to come.

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Contact Us For More Information

Phone Number: (03) 9421 6866

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Email :  info@ecotimbergroup.com.au

Address: 418 Burnley St (cnr Madden Grv) Richmond 3121 VIC

[iloverobots11]

Rustic Living Room - Living Room Living room - huge rustic open concept brown floor and laminate floor living room idea with brown walls, a stone fireplace and a two-sided fireplace

[korunia]

Open - Living Room Example of a large, open-concept living room with brown walls, a stone fireplace, a two-sided fireplace, and a laminate floor in the mountain style.

[justanotherdaywaiting]

Loft-Style - Contemporary Living Room Inspiration for a large contemporary loft-style living room remodel with gray walls, a tv stand, and a brown floor and light wood floor.

[hypedfire]

Living Room Open

[twizzyburger]

Redemption

caught..

part 1!

tags!❀

Captor!König x Engineer!F/NB!Reader

In a digital cataclysm, documents erupted like an insidious storm across the vast expanse of the web, their clandestine contents laying bare the identities of thousands—soldiers, scientists, and amongst them, you were exposed to the unforgiving scrutiny of the virtual tempest.

“We got them…”

Amidst the orchestrated messiness, the room unfolded akin to an engineer's inner sanctum. Commanding the space was a substantial desk, its gleaming surface marred solely by the scattered remnants of papers strewn across both the desk and floor in a harmonious symphony of unbridled inspiration. A glass whiteboard, embellished with a maze of equations and intricate models, stood guard against one wall, bearing witness to the perpetual cerebral ballet that unfolded within. Blueprints graced the encompassing walls like revered manuscripts, revealing the chronicles of meticulously devised weaponry. Delicately crafted miniature weapon models, elegant yet potent, adorned the shelves, murmuring stories of functionality and design.

You sighed, the weight of frustration heavy in the air, as you furiously scribbled on your pad, attempting to rectify a flaw in one of the prototypes you had been diligently working on. The room echoed with the rhythmic dance of your pen against the paper, a silent symphony of dedication. Suddenly, a disruptive banging shattered the cocoon of concentration around you. Annoyed, you tossed the pad onto the desk, irritated that anyone would dare to interrupt your solitary focus. The door swung open, revealing a soldier who entered in haste, speaking at an accelerated pace, leaving you bracing for the unexpected intrusion.

“Everything!Everythingwasleaked!Wecan’tgetaholdofDr.Leon!Everythingwasleaked!Soldiers,scientists,everyone!”

You stared at the soldier in confusion, the rapid stream of words leaving you struggling to grasp the urgency in their message. Frowning, you held up a hand, a silent plea for them to slow down and articulate their message more clearly. "Take a breath and start from the beginning," you urged, a mix of irritation and genuine curiosity flickering in your eyes as you waited for the soldier to unravel the reason behind their sudden intrusion.

“They leaked everything! Dr. Leon is in another country, he can’t take deal with it and our signals have been cut off!”

Your inquiry about the leak causes your mind to race with the sudden revelation. The soldier swiftly details that all classified information, including yours, has been compromised. A surge of concern tightens your chest, prompting both of you to hurriedly head to your computer. With a flash drive from Dr. Leon, you deftly maneuver through the digital maze, inputting a protective code to shield the exposed information from prying eyes.

A sense of triumph illuminates your face as the safeguard activates, preventing unauthorized access to your sensitive data. "Dr. Leon provided this for emergencies," you share, your voice tinged with a blend of relief and gratitude. The once chaotic room now stands as a fortified defense against the digital intrusion that loomed, threatening to unveil your identity to the world.

With a nod of gratitude, the soldier acknowledges your efforts and swiftly exits the room, leaving you to reclaim the sanctuary of your workshop. As the door closes behind them, you return to your desk, picking up your notepad with a renewed focus. The urgency of the situation lingers in the air, but you find solace in the familiar dance of pen against paper as you continue to modify and refine your designs.

…A sudden bang startles you, and your eyes dart towards the door. A fleeting thought suggests it might just be routine shooting practice, but before you can dismiss it, another loud bang echoes through the air. Alarmed, you yell, uncertainty gripping your senses. The unmistakable thud of boots pounding in the hallway draws your attention, the cacophony growing louder and more chaotic. A tense realization settles in, shattering the illusion of routine, as you brace yourself for the unexpected tumult that now encircles your once-quiet workspace.

"Where are they?!" a voice with a distinct German accent echoes, a hint of urgency cutting through the air. The voice, slightly high-pitched yet carrying a rough edge, raises your concern. A series of more bangs and a thud against your door intensify the chaos. Reacting swiftly, you stand and make your way to a nearby closet in your room, seeking refuge and concealment amidst the unfolding uncertainty. The echoes of commotion linger in the air as you brace yourself for the unknown presence outside your door.

Another resounding bang reverberates through the room, and with a sickening crack, the hinges of your door surrender to the relentless force. The door bursts open, hanging precariously from the damaged frame. Panic courses through your veins, and you instinctively hold your breath, pressed against the back of the closet in fear.

As the intruder strides into the room, you catch a glimpse through the crack in the closet door. The man is tall, towering over the space with an intimidating presence. A hood shrouds his features, casting a veil over his intentions. Your limited military training pulses through your veins, a meager defense against this imposing adversary, knowing that you could not beat this mammoth of a man. The closet becomes a fragile sanctuary as you silently pray that the looming threat passes without unveiling your hiding place.

[thesiltverses]

Once again, you have managed to wrench my heart free of my chest with this new episode. It's really amazing stuff. My question is, how did you guys come up with the idea for the "lights are back on" moment? It is honestly one of the best uses of dramatic irony I have ever witnessed in media, and it really has had a visceral effect in the fandom from what I have seen.

Really glad you enjoyed it! As to your question...

...no grand story behind its conception, really, it just seemed like an organic way of demonstrating what had happened offscreen.

I don't know if it consciously inspired the moment, but when I try and think of comparables, I think of Carla Jean Moss' death in No Country For Old Men being shown only with Anton Chigurh wiping off his feet as he exits her house - an implicit moment which is only possible because the film had previously established the image of blood trailing across the floor towards his shoes in an earlier scene.

Foreshadowing doesn't feel like quite the right term because it's more mechanical than that, but I like doing prepwork in early scenes that opens up space and possibilities for implicit action later on.

I think action in audiodrama is often about how little you can get away with showing (as there's no visuals, it's hard to get across scale or character positioning, and many of the key indicators of action can be monotonous or unclear in audio, like gunshots, punches and grunts, etc).

So I find it's helpful to formally consider the possibilities of any action sequence in terms of how much prepwork we can do in the scenes leading up to it: if we have Carpenter and Faulkner walking on the ramparts and in the lower caves of the Paraclete's Gulch having a calm conversation, does that then give the listener a clear sense of the choreography when the battle kicks out? If we establish that the lights coming back on means the grid has been reclaimed, what extra space does that give us to be less blunt and upfront about the fates of the engineers?

[lukascout]

Guess I'm The New Scout!

Story 2: Dumpsterfire

Why did I take this job? Why didn't I just run? I'm gonna die all because I'm a fucking moron.

Luka never dreamed he'd be staring down the barrel of a revolver. A revolver that shouldn't be in the Medic’s hands. He kept his hands over his head as the cylinder slowly clicked, a sound that whispered death. What would even be the point of running away? As the disguise dissipated in smoke, Luka's gaze wandered to meet the Spy's as he saw the poor lad out.

“My apologies, but ze doctor is not available.” Was the last thing he heard before… blackout.

…? Numb…? Why am I suddenly numb?

He could have sworn he was dead. When's the last time you heard of a man surviving a point blank gunshot? Unless the Engineer was not kidding or this was limbo, this was Hell for all he cared. Bracing for the worst, Luka tried to force his eyes open.

…W-White light… hurts…

A muffled voice pierced the lad's senses. He tried to respond to the voice but to no avail as he couldn't seem to find his own voice. He almost wanted to scream but wasn't sure if he still had a mouth. 

A pair of blazing red hands meeting Luka’s eyes were enough to send them into panic as they finally found feeling in their legs, crashing back-first into the lockers. He grabbed his Scattergun but nearly lost his grip on it before aiming it at the figure in front of him.

“Whoa there, son! You're OK!” He heard the familiar, albeit still a little muffled, voice of the Engineer.

Luka blinked, not fully trusting his surroundings still. Slowly he turned his head in the direction he heard Engineer.

“D-Dell…? Is that you? Where am I?”

“You're back here in resupply! Safe and sound!”

Wait. Resupply. If I'm here, then who's-

As they scanned the room, it sank into Luka that they were aiming their Scattergun at the Medic, the real Medic, who leaned back as he held his hands up at face level. A hot wash of red burned across their face and down their shoulders as tears started to form in the corners of their glossy coldsteel eyes. As if dying to that sapphire snake wearing the doctor's face wasn't enough.

“You alright there, son?” Engineer asked.

Before Luka could even say a word, the roaring disturbance known as Soldier echoed through the room. Luka winced at the volume. The men watched him punching the air around him.

“Graaah! I had that son of a bitch right where I wanted him! If I ever see that Sniper out of his little nest, I'll snap his neck in half!” The Soldier ranted at basically nobody before rushing back into battle as if this was just another day for them. This struck a nerve in the already overstimulated lad.

“How can you guys die then walk around like nothing happened!? You're all insane!” Luka shouted as he slumped down into the floor sobbing and covering his ears. “Why didn't I just say no, why?”

The other men found themselves unsure of what to say to the crying mess before them. A shout directed at the Medic brought him quickly to his feet. With the doctor gone, the Engineer was left to deal with the still sobbing Luka. He grabbed a bottle of water and sat next to him.

“Didn't know what to expect, eh?”

Luka only responded with a glare.

“Heheh… I understand.” Engineer chuckled as he handed the water to Luka. He hesitantly took the water and took a few gulps to reclaim some lost moisture. God, Luka hated crying so much.

“...I'm sorry.” Luka said after a period of going non-verbal.

“For what?”

“For… Well, ya know. Being myself.”

“Hey now. You're alright, son…” Engineer reassured him, “Whenever you're ready…”

-----

It had been a little over a few hours since Luka's brush with death and resurrection. He died quite a few times since then but it was still a bitch every time. The worst part of it was the nausea that he could swear his whole body felt. You know, like when you skip breakfast. It took him all the willpower and copious amounts of water to not puke. This time around, he took probably the worst hit to the face since a childhood jungle gym incident. At least he got his teeth back. Did he like the fact he died once again? No. Hell no, even.

“Uuugh! I will never get over that!” Luka yelled as the numbness, nausea, and panic came and went.

The jovial laughter of the mad doctor brought Luka back to the present. He couldn't tell if Medic was laughing at him or not but he still wasn't happy about it.

“Oh bore off! I'm new to this!”

“Zat's ze exhilaration of ze cycle of life and painful deaths!” Medic said with a laugh. Luka looked at him like he had two heads.

“Excuse me?”

“Rush into ze battlefield knowing full vell zat you're going to die a painful death. But you'll get better in about five seconds, ja?”

Luka knew everyone on the team was their own brand of crazy based on what little he observed. But what he just heard made him question how and why this man became a field medic. Or why he even still had his medical license. (Spoiler alert; he does not.)

“...Doc?”

Medic tilted his head in questioning.

“Why do you give pep talks in the creepiest ways?”

“He's not wrong, Doktor…” Heavy commented.

“I beg your pardon!?” Medic reeled back and made a pearl clutching gesture. It was hard to tell if it was real or exaggerated, but they started arguing. It was a weird sight to behold but Luka was not gonna stick around to see how it was going to end. He awkwardly backed out while they continued to bicker.

I'm not bothering with all that mess.

Not even half an hour after his last death, Luka respawned back into resupply. But instead of looking panicked his face was dusted with a lovely shade of pink. And it wasn't because Heavy and Medic were still on about their weird, pointless argument. Although, that itself seemed to come to a weird head as he turned to see that Heavy was now sitting atop of Medic's back, pinning him to the floor.

“Get off of me, Schweinhund!” Medic shouted as he tried to crawl out from underneath the giant man.

Heavy simply ignored the shrieking doctor as he realized that Luka had come back. An enraged Soldier followed shortly after.

“Hartman!? This is the twentieth time you've died today! What do you have to say for yourself!?”

“Seventeen! He actually died seventeen times!” Medic corrected him.

It only occurred to Luka now that this was a pretty normal thing that happens around these parts with this group of mercs. How and why the hell any of them took any of this, he had no clue. But it was definitely going to be a new normal for him. Hey, who knows? Maybe Luka could finally get over some anxiety issues and shyness along this crazy road. The only thing that made it not perfect was the Fullmetal Jackass. Eh, I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

“...Well, I'm not afraid of death anymore, but now I'm terrified of dying embarrassing deaths.” Luka said after processing the whole ordeal.

Medic raised an eyebrow “Oh? What happened?”

“I uhhh… stumbled backwards off a cliff and head first into a dumpster.”

Heavy winced at the image in his head. Not only would it hurt like a knife to the face but it'd probably smell like slow death too. The sound of Soldier chuckling brought him out of his thoughts.

Luka groaned “What's so funny?”

“This isn't garbage day, Hartman!”

“Did you just call me trash!?”

[swan-of-sunrise]

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Forty-One)

Summary: The scouting team, made up of Mandalorians from both tribes, lands on Mandalore and begins to explore its surface, but they soon end up encountering an old enemy and uncovering a villainous plot.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Yeah, the ending on this chapter’s gonna be pretty rough so buckle in! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Forty-One The Trap (Previous Chapter)

All through the morning, (Y/N) kept herself busy by helping the Mandalorian mercenaries tune the engines of their starfighters and load supplies onto the light cruiser, and although they were grueling tasks for a sleep-deprived woman to complete, they worked to distract her from the feeling of foreboding that stubbornly persisted from the night before. The moment that she boarded the Gauntlet alongside Din and Grogu, however, there was nothing to divert her attention away from the inexplicable anxiety weighing on her mind; she didn’t have the N-1 to pilot or even her sewing supplies to keep herself busy, and there were only so many times that she could disassemble and clean her already spotless blaster. You’re just thinking about all the bad experiences we went through the last time we were on Mandalore, she reminded herself as the heel of her boot continued to tap against the floor and her fingers fiddled with a loose thread dangling off the hem of her coat’s sleeve, wishing that she could give in and forget about the ominous sensation filling the pit of her stomach.

“No.”

(Y/N) shook herself out of her reverie and a smile played on her lips when she saw IG-12 standing in front of her seat. “Hey, little guy. Whatcha mean, ‘No?’” Grogu cooed and operated the droid’s hand to take hold of hers and gently guide it away from the loose thread, making (Y/N) chuckle and look back up at the child with pride. “That’s right: pulling the thread will only cause more damage to the garment’s stitching. You’d make quite the seamstress’ apprentice, Grogu.”

He giggled when she tickled the patch of skin beneath his chin and pressed a clawed hand against one of the console’s button. “Yes.”

“We’re coming out of hyperspace,” Din announced, walking up to the pair and tilting his helmeted head to the side as he considered them. “Are you ready, alor’ad?”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to reply, but Grogu and his vocabulators beat her to it. “Yes.”

The Mandalorian heaved a weary sigh and shook his head in exasperation. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

“It’s beginning to grow on me but I won’t lie, that meiloorun incident wasn’t exactly a glowing endorsement of Greef’s…generous gift.” Standing, (Y/N) rolled her coat’s sleeves up and patted her husband’s beskar-clad chest. “Now, let’s go and reclaim your people’s home.”

Din leaned down to connect their foreheads in a brief but meaningful Keldabe Kiss and while (Y/N) forced herself to pull away from his comforting touch, she could hear Bo-Katan call into the starfighter’s communication radio, “Scouting party descending to surface.” As she piloted the Gauntlet down through the tempestuous upper atmosphere of Mandalore, the Nite Owl spared the trio a brief glance over her shoulder. “We’ll lose comms shortly.”

“I’ll go and check on our drop troops,” Din volunteered and gave (Y/N)’s hand a brief squeeze before turning and disappearing into the starfighter’s bomb bay.

“I wish you could’ve seen Mandalore before the Purge.” (Y/N) tore her eyes away from the bomb bay door to look at Bo-Katan, whose grip was tight on the controls as she piloted the Gauntlet out of the raging storms that encased her homeworld. “The songs that were written could hardly do its beauty justice.” The Nite Owl cleared her throat and gave her head a small shake. “And now, I can hardly recognize my own home.”

(Y/N) hesitated a moment before reaching out and giving the unarmored section of Bo-Katan’s shoulder a comforting pat. “It’ll take time, of course, and nothing can ever live up to your memories of your old home, but under your leadership, Mandalore will become a hospitable planet again. You’re all Mandalorians, Bo, and Mandalorians never give up without a fight.” Her lips curved into a small smile. “This is the Way.”

Bo-Katan’s expression brightened with a smile of her own as she nodded once. “This is the Way.”

The bomb bay door slid open and Din stepped through to stand beside (Y/N). “They’re ready.”

“Secure infil zone.” Bo-Katan flipped a switch and a moment later, the sound of the drop troops launching into their free-fall filled the cockpit. “And now we wait…”

(Y/N) peered down at the planet’s crystalized surface and watched the tiny beskar-clad figures survey their charted landing zone with bated breath, the tension leaving her shoulders when the voice of Axe Woves came through the starfighter’s communication radio. “Gauntlet, landing zone secure.”

The Nite Owl engaged the landing sequence and when the starfighter touched down onto the barren stretch of land, (Y/N) accompanied Din and Grogu as they followed Bo-Katan and the Armorer down the ramp. A series of panicked beeps forced her to glance back and watch R5-D4 roll after them; the astromech droid, despite his less-than-happy memories of Mandalore, was too afraid to stay behind on the Gauntlet and despite Din’s grumbling, she gave him a commlink and told him to contact them the moment he needed any assistance. All of the Mandalorians that made up the scouting party wore their beskar helmets, but the stiffness in their stances and the way they gripped their blasters told (Y/N) that being on their people’s ancestral planet was making them uneasy.

“Somewhere below is where our ancestral capital once stood.” Bo-Katan’s gloved hand held tight to her helmet as she addressed the scouting party. “We’ll survey the surface until we find the Forge and create a safety zone. Only then will we begin to bring down the settlers.” (Y/N) gave Bo-Katan an encouraging nod and the Nite Owl pointed towards the horizon. “We’ll start scouting in that direction.” She strode through their group and slipped on her helmet before calling out, “Form up!”

The Mandalorians followed her command and filed after her, leaving Din and (Y/N) walking at the back alongside Grogu and the Armorer. They hadn’t made it far when a low rumble joined the thundering high above them and the crystalized ground began to shake with deep tremors; (Y/N) hovered her hand over the hilt of her blaster as Din pointed towards the distance. “There, on the horizon.”

A cloud of dust and debris had formed in the distance and was only growing larger as it neared them and when the shape of a massive langskib became visible, (Y/N) and Din drew their blasters while Bo-Katan and the Mandalorian mercenaries lowered their helmet’s rangefinders in synchronization. “Nite Owls.”

“Flanking left,” Axe called, moving into a defensive formation alongside his fellow Mandalorians and crouching behind the rock formations that emerged from the crystalized surface.

Din held a gloved hand out to keep Grogu behind them and (Y/N) spared the concerned child a brief smile. “Everything’s gonna be okay, little guy, don’t worry.” She returned her focus to the langskib and tightened her grip on her blaster as the craft slowed to a stop. “If they’re not friendly, then we’ll handle them.”

The tension-filled silence that filled the clearing was finally broken by a man’s voice emanating from the deck of the langskib. “Do you have food?”

“We do,” Bo-Katan called back, lifting her rangefinder while the rest of the scouting party continued to hold their weapons at the ready.

“You wear the crest of the Nite Owls?”

Bo-Katan seemed taken aback by the man’s pointed question. “I should hope so.”

Out of the corner of her eye, (Y/N) saw the Armorer take a curious step forward. “They’re Mandalorians.”

(Y/N) exchanged a look of surprise with Din and murmured, “Mandalorians have been living here since the Purge?”

Her husband wordlessly shook his head as another man’s voice called out, “Is that the voice of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze?”

“…It is.”

Immediately, three Mandalorians flew down from the towering langskib and gracefully landed in front of them; the Nite Owl signaled to them to hold their fire, but several members of their scouting party had already lowered their blasters by the time the Mandalorians removed their helmets and bowed their heads in respect. “We knew you would not forsake us, Lady Bo-Katan,” The first Mandalorian humbly spoke. “We have failed you, but our blasters remain in your service.”

The rest of their scouting party slowly relaxed and holstered their weapons as they lowly talked amongst themselves about their new discovery, but (Y/N) carefully watched Bo-Katan and took note of the unusual caginess in her posture; perhaps there’s something that she hasn’t told anyone about the day Mandalore was decimated by the Empire, she thought to herself, a troubled frown forming on her face while she followed Din, Grogu and the rest of the Mandalorians as they trekked to the well-worn langskib in the distance.

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

“They intercepted any ships they saw leaving…” The former Mandalorian captain explained later that evening, after they’d welcomed their unexpected guests onto their langskib with a meager but much-appreciated meal. (Y/N) was seated between Grogu and Paz Vizsla at the long table extended across the upper deck, tearing strips of salted meat into pieces and handing them one at a time to the child while she listened to the Mandalorian’s story with rapt attention. “They took no prisoners. They bombed every surface twice-over. They punished us as a warning to the whole galaxy, because we refused to surrender.”

“That’s not true.” Everyone seated at the table looked to its head and saw the shadow of guilt that graced Bo-Katan’s features. “I did surrender.” (Y/N)’s heart sank as the Mandalorian survivors began to murmur amongst themselves and when Koska opened her mouth to defend her old friend, Bo-Katan gestured for her to stand down and swallowed thickly before continuing. “After our forces were annihilated in the Night of a Thousand Tears and defeat was imminent, I met with Moff Gideon. The ISB had reached out to me to negotiate a cease-fire; in exchange for submitting to the Empire and disarming, all remaining cities and Mandalorian lives were to be spared.” The Nite Owl looked down at the scuffed surface of the table to avoid the gazes fixed on her. “This is how Moff Gideon came to possess the Darksaber. I didn’t trust him, but it was the only chance I had to save our people.” Grogu let out a sad coo and (Y/N) rested a hand on his small back for comfort. “And then, he betrayed me and we were helpless to resist the Purge of Mandalore.”

The Mandalorian scout took in Bo-Katan’s explanation and looked across the table at Din, Paz and the Armorer. “How did these others survive?”

“We were hidden on the moon of Concordia,” The Armorer explained and Din nodded in confirmation.

The former captain’s brow furrowed in distrust. “Are you Death Watch?”

“Death Watch exists no longer. It shattered into many warring factions.”

Bo-Katan struggled to keep her emotions in check as she addressed the Mandalorians seated around her. “Our people have suffered time and again, from division and squabbling factions. Mandalore has always been too powerful for any enemy to defeat; it is always our own division that destroys us.”

While everyone seated around the table took in her regret-filled words, Bo-Katan quietly stood and crossed the deck to stand at the langskib’s bow, leaving the gathering of Mandalorians to awkwardly converse with one another as they finished up their meal. The mercenaries and the covert members volunteered to help nurse some of the surviving Mandalorians back to health and since she knew that they’d have a long day ahead of them in the morning, (Y/N) coaxed Grogu out of the IG-12 suit and worked on rocking the stubborn child to sleep while Din absentmindedly rubbed his thumb across the back of his wrinkled head.

“Hearing what really happened after the Night of a Thousand Tears…what Bo-Katan was forced to do, only for Moff Gideon to betray her and initiate the Purge…” Din shook his helmeted head and quietly sighed. “I can’t imagine being put in that position and living all those years with the weight of the consequences on my mind.”

(Y/N) waited until Grogu’s eyelids finally stayed closed to look up at her husband and whisper, “Bo’s had a pretty rough start to this scouting expedition; if I was her, I could really do with a few words of understanding right about now.”

She tilted her head towards the bow of the langskib and after a brief moment of hesitation, Din nodded once and slowly approached the morose Nite Owl, pausing only to affectionately bump his forehead against hers; as Din slowly approached Bo-Katan, who was looking out at the desolate wasteland that had once been her home, (Y/N) perched herself on the edge of a nearby cargo box and listened in on the Mandalorian’s modulated statement. “I had no idea. We were taught that everyone but us had forsaken the Way, that you were selfish and uncaring. Now, I understand.”

“You were right.” The Nite Owl’s back was to them both, but (Y/N) didn’t need to see her face to detect the pain that laced her every word. “I was selfish, and this is what it wrought.”

Din glanced over his shoulder and when (Y/N) flashed him a small smile of encouragement, he turned back around and took a step forward. “We’ll rebuild it. Isn’t that our history? For thousands of years, we have been on the verge of extinction and for thousands of years, we have survived.”

Bo-Katan whirled around to face him, her swirling emotions finally getting the better of her. “I don’t know if I can keep everyone together. There’s too much animosity, and this blade-” She reached for the hilt of the Darksaber fastened to her utility belt. “-is all I have to unify our people.”

“I only know of this weapon what you taught me. To be honest, it means nothing to me or my people, nor does station or bloodline; why do you think they’ve so readily accepted my riduur and our foundling into the covert? What matters more to me is honor. And loyalty, and character. These are the reasons I serve you, Lady Kryze.” Bo-Katan looked up at Din, and the cautious hopefulness that glistened in her eyes made (Y/N)’s heart clench in sympathy for all the hardships she’d endured since the Clone Wars. “Your song is not yet written…” The Mandalorian held his clenched fist against his chest as a mark of respect and bowed his helmeted head. “I will serve you until it is.”

(Y/N)’s heart swelled with pride for her husband and as he made his way over to where she sat, she watched Bo-Katan take a steadying breath before crossing the deck to join the other Mandalorians, her confidence returning with every sure-footed step she took. “I know that you never truly had any interest in leading the Mandalorians, sweetheart, but believe me, you would’ve made one hell of a leader.”

Taking a seat on the cargo box beside her, Din took a sleeping Grogu from her and cradled him against his beskar-covered chest with one arm while wrapping the other around her waist. “With you by my side, it would’ve been a slice of uj’alayi; any leader would be lucky to have an advisor and confidant only as half as skilled as you, alor’ad.” Instead of answering, (Y/N) pressed a soft kiss onto the beskar covering her husband’s mouth and leaned against him, the both of them listening in as Bo-Katan’s insecurities gave way to her natural leadership skills.

“We’ll rest tonight and continue at first light.”

“These here are too weak to continue,” The Armorer countered and gestured towards the cots occupied by the injured and sick Mandalorian survivors. “We must return to the Gauntlet, and I will ferry them back to the fleet in the morning.”

Bo-Katan nodded. “Agreed.” She looked over at the former Mandalorian captain, who was preoccupied with treating an unconscious warrior at a nearby cot and only looked away when the Nite Owl addressed him. “Captain? Those of you who are well enough can join us in the search for the Great Forge.”

“We can do better than that.” The ghost of a smile formed on the former captain’s lips. “We can bring you there.”

Although (Y/N) should’ve been thrilled that their scouting expedition was receiving substantial aid from a group of loyal and honorable Mandalorians, the only thing that she could focus on while she and Din drifted off to sleep later that night was the resurgence of the foreboding weight in the pit of her stomach.

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

The next morning – much like the morning before on Nevarro – was filled with a flurry of activity, with the Armorer piloting the sick and injured Mandalorian survivors up to where their fleet was located in Mandalore’s orbit in the Gauntlet and the langskib making its way across the planet’s crystalized surface towards the Great Forge. Unlike the previous morning, (Y/N) found herself putting her uneasiness aside as she busied herself with repairing tears in the langskib’s sails and braiding new lines of rope. The work was challenging and far from the sort of work that a former seamstress was used to, but (Y/N) was happy to share her knowledge with the Mandalorians and offer them assistance; she was able to dabble in her old trade and as a bonus, she found a task that kept her lingering worry off her mind. Maybe I should consider expanding the services I’ll offer when I open my shop someday, she thought with a tranquil smile and continued to expertly weave the bundles of fibers together with skilled fingers.

The sound of a scuffle breaking out was enough to shatter (Y/N)’s concentration, and she looked up from her complex work to see Paz and Axe engaged in a vicious duel on the lower deck. “Oh, for Maker’s sake…” Setting her half-finished rope down, (Y/N) got up and moved to stand between Din and Bo-Katan at the railing with a weary sigh. “I’d like to say that I’m surprised, but what’s the point in lying?”

Din nodded in agreement and looked over at the Nite Owl. “Should I step in?”

“Neither side can stop it,” Bo-Katan explained, but her brow was furrowed in concern as she watched the Mandalorian men struggle over a vibroblade. “Like the Captain said, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

(Y/N) pursed her lips as Axe held back Paz’s vibroblade and the larger Mandalorian knocked him onto the ground, and she winced when the mercenary activated his jetpack and used his locked arms to trip Paz, taking advantage of the distraction to scoop up the vibroblade before they both staggered to their feet. The other Mandalorians wore matching looks of exasperation while they watched both men continue their fight but just when (Y/N) was preparing to return to her rope braiding, she spotted Grogu approaching the fighters in his IG-12 suit and her heart nearly stopped at the sight. Before either she or Din could say or do anything, the child stepped directly between the charging Mandalorians and held them both apart with the droid’s strong arms.

“No. No. No. No. No. No. No.” Grogu pressed the vocabulator’s button over and over, only stopping when Paz and Axe stood down and walked away from one another.

“You taught your apprentice well,” Bo-Katan remarked with the barest hint of a smile.

Din merely shrugged his armored shoulders. “He didn’t learn that from me.” (Y/N)’s face warmed at her husband’s sweet reply and after giving his pauldron a brief kiss, she shot Grogu a proud wink and stifled a giggle when he promptly nodded back.

A sharp whistle was quickly followed up with a shout from the langskib’s crow’s nest. “There, on the starboard bow!”

On the lower deck, Mandalorians gathered their weapons and helmets on their way to the bow of the ship and as (Y/N) looked towards the right of the langskib, the sight of a crumbling mountain of crystalized earth made her wet her dry lips and hesitantly remark, “I don’t think that’s the Great Forge…”

Her suspicions were confirmed when she noticed the Mandalorian survivors slip their helmets on and sprint to their battle stations, and she was quick to follow Din down the steps to get a closer look at the creature breaking through the mountain; it was a trinitaur, a reptilian beast with a pointed outer shell and a club-shaped tail, and they all paused in horror as it opened its jagged beak and released an ear-splitting shriek. The langskib attempted to swerve out of the creature’s way but its hull snagged on the broken shards of earth and pitched to the side, sending warriors stumbling into one another and dragging them closer to the flailing beast.

The shadow of the trinitaur’s tail blocked out the dim afternoon light as one of the Mandalorian survivors cried out over the din, “Abandon ship!”

Mandalorians activated their jetpacks and took to the skies, and (Y/N) was swept into Din’s arms with only a second to brace herself before they flew away from the doomed langskib; her panicked eyes spotted Grogu being carried off by Axe and Paz, but the explosive impact of the trinitaur’s tail smashing the langskib to pieces forced her to bury her face in Din’s singed cowl and tighten her grip on his shoulders. When their boots made contact with the ground, they began sprinting alongside the rest of the Mandalorians towards a small opening half-hidden amongst an outcropping of rock.

“This way! This way!” They came upon the sunken entrance of a cave and after Din jumped down, he helped (Y/N) down and tightly gripped her hand so that they wouldn’t become separated. “Hurry up! Faster!”

The last of the Mandalorians made it into the hidden cave and when they spotted Grogu’s IG-12 suit, (Y/N) breathed a deep sigh of relief as Din pulled her over to where he stood. “You good?” Grogu cooed in fear but when (Y/N) kissed the top of his head in comfort, the cave shook and showered them in rocks and debris. “We can’t stay here with that creature right outside.”

“What about the Great Forge?” (Y/N) asked as she brushed errant strands of hair out of her eyes and frantically looked around the cave for an exit.

“We’re not far, we need to go further down!” The former Mandalorian captain shouted and while the cave continued to shudder around them, they followed one another through the narrow tunnel that the Mandalorian survivor directed him towards. “Go, go go! Go!”

The flashlights affixed to several Mandalorians’ helmets illuminated their path through the winding tunnel, and they only slowed their pace when the tunnel opened out onto a cliff overlooking a cavernous chamber filled with metallic machinery. Several of the Mandalorian mercenaries removed their helmets and after catching sight of the reverent looks that crossed their uncovered faces, (Y/N) knew that they were standing in the middle of someplace deeply sacred to them.

Din fell into step beside her and quietly asked, “Where are we?”

“This is what’s left of the Great Forge.” Axe stopped walking and swallowed thickly. “This was once the heart of our civilization, but the fires have been extinguished since the bombings.”

Paz’s helmeted head tilted in curiosity. “You lived here?”

“We all did,” Koska replied, a glint of sadness filling her dark brown eyes.

The former Mandalorian captain wearily sighed. “We never left. Survived by migrating along the surface until the war ended. Some tried to explore below, but none survived.”

(Y/N) rubbed the spot on her neck where the cyborg injected her with sedatives, but the distant sound of approaching fuel-powered machinery gave her pause and caused her to glance over at her husband in confusion. “Jetpacks?”

Axe arched a skeptical brow. “More survivors?”

A dark look crossed Bo-Katan’s face as she slipped her helmet on and drew her blasters. “Those aren’t Mandalorians.”

It didn’t take them long to catch sight of the two dozen figures flying towards them, and the atmosphere quickly shifted when they realized that they were all encased in the recognizable white armor of Stormtroopers. “They’re Imperials!”

“Take cover!”

Din managed to tackle (Y/N) and Grogu behind a pile of rocks just before blaster bolts flew through the air and after checking that the child was unharmed, (Y/N) drew her blaster and joined the Mandalorians in returning blaster fire. Carefully taking aim, (Y/N) fired and watched in disbelief as the red blaster bolt bounced off the chest of the Stormtrooper; she’d shot countless Stormtroopers before, during and after the Rebellion, and never once had she encountered one who wore armor strong enough to successfully deflect blaster fire. Unless…

“They’re wearing beskar armor!” Axe shouted over the chaotic sounds of the gunfight.

The Stormtroopers took up positions along the cavern’s walls and on the abandoned machinery that had once been the Great Forge of Mandalore, taking advantage of the high ground and sniping the defenseless Mandalorians whenever they took aim at the chinks in their armor. “We’re pinned down!” Din called out to the others while he continued returning blaster fire. “We need back-up!”

“I can make a run for the fleet and get us reinforcements!”

Bo-Katan whirled around to face Axe and shook her helmeted head. “No, it’s too far!”

“I can make it, it’s our only shot at taking the planet back!” The Mandalorian mercenary insisted.

“There’s a split in the ceiling there!” They looked up to where Paz pointed and saw the narrow opening in the ceiling, just large enough for a single flyer to pass through and make their way to the planet’s crystalized surface. “I’ll lay down cover!”

Paz aimed his blaster cannon at the remnants of the Great Forge across from them and fired, the power of the massive weapon succeeding in downing several Stormtroopers and forcing the rest to scramble for cover; the brief moment of distraction allowed Axe to activate his jetpack and speed through the split in the cavern’s ceiling without their enemy realizing. They were quick to recover from Paz’s attack and a dozen of them flew down to attack their right flank, forcing Paz and several other Mandalorians to return blaster fire. (Y/N), realizing that Stormtroopers were descending on their left flank, shook Din’s shoulder and gestured to the breach in their defenses with her blaster. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Using his beskar-covered body as a makeshift shield, Din led (Y/N) into the fray and defended her as she took advantage of their closer proximity to aim her blaster at the crevices in their armor, slamming his fist into a hovering Stormtrooper and shooting the downed Imp until they stopped moving. All around them, the Mandalorians were beginning to seize the upper hand; they used their whipcords to yank Stormtroopers out of the sky, slashed at the exposed sections of their bodies with vibroblades, detonated hand-held charges slapped onto their jetpacks to disable their flight capabilities and kicked the screaming Stormtroopers off the cliff. The onslaught of well-trained warriors proved to be too much for the remaining Stormtroopers to handle, and they quickly retreated on foot through a tunnel leading away from the Great Forge.

“They’re retreating!”

Bo-Katan finished off her opponent with a blaster bolt to the neck and gestured to her fellow Mandalorians. “Advance!”

A battle cry rang out through the cavernous chamber as the Mandalorians thundered after the charging Nite Owl. After checking that (Y/N) was uninjured, Din led her over to where Grogu was pressed against the jagged rock wall and placed a gloved hand on IG-12’s metal shoulder. “Okay, kid. You’ve gotta keep up.”

“Stay close to us, all right, little guy? Everything’s gonna be okay.” When Grogu gave them both a firm nod, she turned to the Mandalorian standing beside her and flashed him a determined smile. “For Mandalore.”

Din tightened his grip on his blaster and mirrored Grogu’s confident nod. “For Mandalore.”

Together, the three of them ran alongside the charging Mandalorians and followed them into the tunnel. While (Y/N) stayed by Grogu’s side and helped his IG-12 suit navigate the suddenly flat tunnel floor, Din ran ahead and helped Paz and Bo-Katan battle the Stormtroopers unsuccessfully attempting to rally themselves against their pursuit; the blaster bolts whizzing past their heads coupled with the frantic shouts of fleeing Stormtroopers meant that it took (Y/N) longer than usual to realize that they were all sprinting down a hallway, and her footsteps began to falter as she struggled to think of why the gun-metal grey walls and polished floor looked so familiar to her.

The Mandalorians charged around the next corner in time to see the remaining Stormtroopers take flight and speed upwards through what appeared to be a hangar; they fired their blasters at the fleeing Imps until they disappeared through the jagged crevice high above but when the shooting ceased, an uneasy feeling settled over the scouting party as they took in their surroundings. The hangar looked far too sterile and technologically-advanced to be a remnant of Mandalore’s great army, but it wasn’t until (Y/N) looked up and saw the dozen TIE Fighters suspended high above them that she realized where they were standing. “Oh, no…”

Bo-Katan refused to lower her blasters as she agitatedly looked around the Imperial hangar. “What is this place?”

Suddenly, the doors behind their group slid shut while a blast door lowered from above, separating several Mandalorians and – to (Y/N)’s utter horror – Din from the rest of the scouting party. “Din!” She pounded her fist against the blast door’s window and a terrified gasp tore itself from her throat when she saw the remaining dozen Stormtroopers descend onto the platform. “Din, behind you!”

“It’s an ambush!” He yelled over the sound of blaster fire coming from both sides of the thick door; the Stormtroopers were firing upon the small group of Mandalorians without prejudice while Bo-Katan and Paz fired their blasters in a desperate attempt to break down the door. The four Mandalorians trapped alongside Din were shot down one by one while he unsuccessfully attempted to hold the beskar-clad Stormtroopers back by firing his vambrace’s flamethrower at them.

The Stormtroopers landed on the platform and despite the concentrated stream of fire aimed their way, they advanced on Din without a moment of hesitancy in their actions. A whipcord wrapped itself around the wrist controlling the flamethrower but when he simply burned through it, another Imp fired a whipcord that tightly seized him around the neck. “No!” (Y/N) cried as she pounded on the window and helplessly watched her husband being roughly detained with more whipcords and forced onto his knees through tear-filled eyes; Grogu was wailing somewhere behind her, but all she could focus on was the heart-stopping sight of her brave Mandalorian at the mercy of a dozen heavily-armored enemies and the fact that she was powerless to help him. “Din! Din!”

While several Stormtroopers fought to hold a struggling Din steady and the others aimed their blaster rifles at him, a trooper dressed in pitch-black beskar armor akin to what the Mandalorians wore and a crimson cloak descended onto the platform, clenching their gloved fists tight at their sides; (Y/N), realizing that the trooper’s visor was fixed onto her husband’s thrashing form, doubled her efforts to try and break through the door but was stopped by Bo-Katan when she attempted to shoot out the glass with her blaster. “There’s no use! The metal and glass are too thick!”

“I can’t just stand here and watch them kill him!” (Y/N) shouted, trying and failing to wrench her arm out of the Nite Owl’s grasp. “Din!”

“Disarm him,” The Dark Trooper ordered and with tears streaming down her face, (Y/N) watched a duo of Stormtroopers remove every single weapon hidden among Din’s Mandalorian armor, leaving him defenseless at the feet of the mysterious Dark Trooper. When they were satisfied that he was unarmed, they strode forward and removed their horned helmet in one swift motion, revealing the smirking face of Moff Gideon; he never made it to the New Republic War Tribunal, (Y/N) silently lamented, thinking back on the moment Din had had the Imperial commander at his mercy and regretting that he hadn’t killed him when he had the opportunity. “Thank you for gathering the Mandalorians into one place.” Moff Gideon mockingly bowed his head in Din’s direction before looking up at the Mandalorians trapped behind the blast door. “You were a talented people, but your time has passed. However, as you can see, Mandalore will live on in me; thanks to your planet’s rich resources, I have created the next generation Dark Trooper suit, forged from beskar alloy. And the most impressive improvement is that it has me in it.” He held his arms out and gestured to his armor with a dark grin. “As the daughter of a talented seamstress, I’m sure that you can appreciate the thought behind my new armor’s design, Captain (Y/L/N). Oh, and congratulations on the wedding; I hear that the Lake Country of Naboo is a beautiful venue for wedding ceremonies.”

(Y/N)’s blood boiled in rage but Paz’s large hand on her shoulder stopped her from surging forward, and his modulated voice lowly warned, “Hold fast, Captain.”

“You see, every society has something to offer: the cloners, the Jedi, the Naboo, and even the Mandalorians. By aggregating the best of each, I will create an army that will bring order to the galaxy.” The corners of Moff Gideon’s lips curved into a twisted smile as he continued. “Why don’t we take your fleet off the board while we still have the element of surprise? Activate the interceptors and bombers!”

“No!” Bo-Katan cried and the Mandalorians frantically searched for a way out but throughout the hangar, alarms blared and Stormtroopers boarded their ships to carry out the Imperial commander’s orders.

Their panic only seemed to encourage Moff Gideon, who chuckled and shrugged his armored shoulders. “In but a few moments, the Purge of Mandalore will be complete.” He looked over at the two Stormtroopers detaining Din. “Take him to the debriefing room.”

“No, no!” (Y/N) screamed, desperately pounding her fist against the glass as the two Stormtroopers hauled Din to his feet and began dragging him away. “Din!” Her husband struggled against his captors’ tight grips, but he managed to throw her one final look before they wrenched him out of sight.

Bo-Katan’s modulated voice was laced with venom as she addressed her old enemy. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

Turning around to face her, Moff Gideon’s villainous smile only widened at her threat. “Bo-Katan. We have to stop meeting like this!”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we? I believe this is the part where you return the Darksaber to its rightful owner.” Slowly, Bo-Katan unclipped the weapon from her utility belt and held it up for the Imperial commander to see. “Now, surrender the Darksaber, and tell these people that this planet is mine.”

Bo-Katan glanced over at (Y/N), who clenched her jaw tight and gave her a near-imperceptible head-shake, and then at Paz, who swung his blaster cannon around and aimed at the blast doors before them. “This is the Way.”

Chaos erupted as the Mandalorians opened fire on the door and together, (Y/N) and Bo-Katan skidded across the room to the sealed doors at the opposite end; the Nite Owl activated the Darksaber and thrust the illuminated blade into the center of the doors, and (Y/N) clamped her hands around hers to help her cut a circular shape into the thick metal. Behind them, the blast door finally slid open and red blaster bolts whizzed through the air, nearly hitting both women as they worked together to carve out an escape route. Bo-Katan pulled the glowing Darksaber out of the doors and (Y/N) kicked the circle of cut metal out to reveal a human-sized hole. “Move out!” Heeding their leader’s order, the Mandalorians started their retreat through the still-sizzling hole in the doors while the warriors closest to the Stormtroopers covered their brethren by laying down heavy blaster fire. “Move out!”

“Fall back! I’ll cover the rear!” Paz called out over the deafening noise of his blaster cannon.

“Go, go, go!” (Y/N) helped Mandalorian after Mandalorian step through the escape route they’d created and after helping Koska, she all but shoved Grogu’s IG-12 suit through next. “Go, I’ll be there in a sec!” She looked up at Bo-Katan standing across from her, realizing that there were only three of them left. “That’s everyone, Bo, let’s go!”

Bo-Katan turned to where Paz had stationed himself to defend them and called out, “We’re clear, fall back!”

(Y/N)’s brow furrowed when the larger Mandalorian made no move to follow them and continued to fire his blaster cannon at the nearly-invincible Stormtroopers. “Come on, Paz, we’re not leaving you behind!”

Instead of answering, Paz slammed his hand against the nearest control panel and sealed the blast door, leaving him alone to battle a countless number of Stormtroopers on the hangar platform. “Go! There are too many!”

“No!”

Paz glanced over his shoulder at them through the glass of the blast door, and (Y/N) sensed the respect in his pointed gaze as he gave them a firm nod. “This is the Way.”

They watched in stunned disbelief as the Mandalorian fearlessly laid down blaster fire against an enemy that easily outnumbered and outgunned him, all so that his brothers and sisters-in-arms could escape and save their fleet from Moff Gideon and his ruthless Imperial forces. A moment later, Bo-Katan’s visor turned to her and when she nodded her helmeted head, (Y/N) climbed through the hole in the doors and waited for Bo-Katan before running alongside her down the hallway to where the smooth floor transitioned to the uneven dirt of the tunnels.

“Grogu!” (Y/N) quickened her pace when she saw the child’s IG-12 suit positioned by the mouth of the tunnel and skidded to a stop before him. “Are you all right, little guy?” She scanned his tiny body for any injuries and breathed a shaky sigh of relief when she found none; his large eyes shone with unshed tears and the grief written across his wrinkled features broke her heart. “I know, Grogu, but your dad’s gonna be okay. You wanna know how I know that?” He let out a cautious coo and (Y/N) mustered up a small smile for his benefit. “Because we’re gonna rescue him. Together.” She spared Bo-Katan a brief look and nodded towards the tunnel. “The Mandalorians need you, Bo, and Din needs us. We’ll see you on the other side of this mess.”

Rather than arguing or trying to reason with her as she’d done with Paz, Bo-Katan bowed her head in respect. “This is the Way.”

The Nite Owl turned and sprinted down the tunnels after the retreating Mandalorians and (Y/N) tightened her grip on her blaster’s hilt as she met Grogu’s determined eyes. “Are you ready for this?”

“Yes.”

While the horrific memory of Din being overpowered and dragged away from them played on a loop in her mind, a vengeful feeling took hold inside (Y/N) and only burned brighter when she squared her shoulders in preparation for the brutal fight ahead and stared down the Imperial hallway before them. “You’re right, little guy: This is the Way.”

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

Mando’a Translations:

Alor’ad-Captain Riduur-Spouse Uj’alayi-dense, very sweet flat cake made of ground nuts, syrup, pureed dried fruit and spice

A/N: A pissed-off Alor’ad is a scary Alor’ad lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! Oh, and I’ve created a Spotify playlist of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars, so if you’re interested in checking it out the link is down below!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Chapter Forty-Two

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

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[j2h5b5]

She was cold when she came back to herself . She sensed that she had been cold for quite some time, at least if her stiff-armed self-embrace had a story to tell. She was shivering deeply, every muscle getting in on the action, and her nose and cheeks were completely numb. How long had she been out here, anyway? Had she fallen asleep?

With the sudden consciousness of her surroundings came another, sharper sensation—fear. It was pure, overwhelming, forming ice out of the blood in her veins and doing nothing to ease her bone-deep chill.

Alone. She was alone. She was alone in the dark. She was alone in the dark in the woods.

She might as well have been back There. That’s how vulnerable she was, had made herself. She remembered now, walking eyes wide open into these woods, fists and teeth clenched and heart hammering. It was her penance and her test. Both to punish herself for being so scared all the time and to see if she had it in her, anymore, to be anything else. It was time for her to face it, to show herself and them and him and the whole fucking world that Maxine Mayfield was no coward. That she could sit alone in the dark in the woods and face the unspeakable horrors that had taken up permanent residence in her head, every minute of every hour of every day.

Standing up was harder than it should have been. Her muscles had stiffened up considerably, and her legs wobbled with the force of the full-body trembling she had no power over. Her foot kicked an object and she looked down at the forest floor to see her walkie-talkie tumbling down a small hill. It came to rest next to a rock.

It was off. Of course it was. She had turned it off in her quest to prove all the things to all the people, and in her gradually clearing state of mind she could see the many flaws of that logic. They would have missed her by now, compared notes and found out that she was missing, freaked out and gone looking when she didn’t answer their fretful calls. It was an unbreakable rule now, in the after. Walkies on, always. Calls answered, immediately. No exceptions. And that was only in the now-rare times when they weren’t physically together, clinging to one another like the lost children they so essentially were.

“Idiot,” she chastised herself, picking her way carefully over to the hunk of plastic and bending stiffly to retrieve it. Taking a deep breath, she clicked it on, pressing the button to speak.

“Come in ,” she said in a hoarse voice that didn’t even sound like it belonged to her, “Is anyone there?”

There was barely even a pause. “Where are you, Max?”

Steve. Max’s eyes filled with tears, which definitely didn’t make her feel like the badass she had envisioned walking back out of these dark woods after facing down her demons and reclaiming her mojo. “I don’t know,” she replied, and her voice was small.

“Are you hurt?” His response was sharp, no-nonsense. Babysitter mode activated.

“I’m in the woods, Steve, I … I don’t know where.”

“It’s all right, I’m going to find you. Can you tell which direction the road is? Can you see any light?”

She paused, turning in a half circle before her eyes made out a vaguely less dark darkness in the distance. It would do, she decided, and she nodded as if he could see her.

“Max.” Steve’s voice came through again , gentle but urgent. “If you can tell which way the road is, start walking that direction, okay? When you get there, just stay put. I’m on my way. You hear me?”

“Yeah. I’m walking that way, I think. Toward the road.”

“Good. That’s my girl. Stop when you get there, all right?” he repeated.

“Steve?”

“What?”

“I’m really scared.”

There was a long pause this time, the crunch of Max’s feet through the dried leaves of the forest floor and the distant rumble of Steve’s car engine the only sounds that penetrated. Then she heard Steve take a deep breath before saying, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Max. You know that, right?”

She sniffed, swallowed back tears. She would not cry. She had made some major errors in judgment tonight, and she would not allow herself the luxury of tears.

Steve kept up a steady monologue of calm encouragement as she made her painfully slow way through the tangles of trees and roots, low-hanging branches and gnarled brambles snagging her hair and scratching her face. At last she stumbled onto the hard-packed pavement, tripping and almost hitting her knees.

“I’m here,” she said into the walkie that was clutched in a death grip in her hand. “I’m at the road. Can you find me?”

“Stay where you are,” Steve commanded. “I’ll be there in one minute.”

And somehow, miraculously, he was. She saw the headlights and fought the urge to duck back into the trees, an ice pick of fear slicing straight through her before she recognized the grille of Steve’s car as he slowed to a stop. He kept the engine running as he bolted from the driver’s seat. He reached her in three long strides, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into an embrace that was too tight to be comfortable but at the same time not tight enough. His lips crushed against the top of her head and his words were muffled but fierce: “Jesus, Max. Don’t you ever disappear on us like that again, you got it? Never.”

As she clung to him — in the dark , by the woods, but no longer alone — she began to cry.

[ecotimber3]

Craftsmanship Unleashed: Exploring Timber Joinery Supplies for Exquisite Woodwork

Embark on a journey of artisanal excellence with Timber Joinery Supplies, unlocking the door to unparalleled craftsmanship and timeless woodwork. These supplies play a pivotal role in creating bespoke wooden elements, from intricately designed doors and windows to custom cabinetry and furniture.

Timber Joinery Supplies encompass a diverse range of materials, including high-quality timber species, hardware, adhesives, and finishes. Craftsmen and woodworkers can select from a variety of wood types, each possessing unique grains, colors, and textures to suit the desired aesthetic. From the warm tones of oak to the rich hues of mahogany, the options are as diverse as the creative visions they bring to life.

The significance of timber joinery extends beyond visual appeal. Precisely crafted joinery ensures structural integrity, longevity, and resilience in every piece. Whether engaged in architectural projects, interior design, or bespoke furniture creation, timber joinery supplies provide the essential building blocks for transforming raw materials into functional and artistic masterpieces.

In an era where mass-produced goods dominate, timber joinery supplies empower artisans and craftsmen to create items of enduring value, personalized to meet the unique preferences of their clients. By choosing the finest timber joinery supplies, woodworkers embrace a tradition of excellence, where each piece tells a story of skill, dedication, and the timeless beauty of timber in every joint.

[simmillercc]

SIMS 4 - DU CAFE COLLECTION - BG AND GT

Welcome to the Du Cafe Multiple Item Set!

In this set you will find floors, walls, paintings, and recolours of several cafe related items from the game, all designed to equip and decorate your next cafe.

There are 15 packages to this set, and you can see everything in the myriad of images 😁 The ones here are only some of the images, so please check out the collection's page to see more!

ITEM DETAILS

 Walls - 32 colours - 8 Simoleons - Paneling

 Reclaimed Wood Floors - 4 colours - 8 Simoleons - Wood

 Reclaimed Tille Floors - 5 colours - 8 Simoleons - Tile and Masonry

 Paintings - Charming Tea and Coffee Collection - 24 colours - 295 Simoleons - Decor/Paintings and Posters

 Paintings - Patio - 16 colours - 100 Simoleons - Decor/Paintings and Posters 

 Paintings - Coffee - 25 colours - 150 Simoleons - Decor/Paintings and Posters

 Paintings - Florals - 16 colours - 195 Simoleons - Decor/Paintings and Posters

 Paintings -  Four Square Breakfast - 16 colours - 155 Simoleons - Decor/Paintings and Posters

 Paintings - Breakfast 1 - 12 colours - 200 Simoleons - Decor/Paintings and Posters

 Paintings - Breakfast 2 - 18 colours - 230 Simoleons - Decor/Paintings and Posters

 Jittermaster Long Coffee Display Recolours - 5 colours - 185 Simoleons - Wall Sculptures - GET TOGETHER REQUIRED

 Jittermaster Tall Coffee Display Recolours - 5 colours - 175 Simoleons - Wall Sculptures - GET TOGETHER REQUIRED

 Easy Energy Espresso Bar Recolours - 5 colours - 800 Simoleons - Bars - GET TOGETHER REQUIRED

 Impress-O Espresso Machine Recolours - 3 colours - 400 Simoleons - Small Appliances - GET TOGETHER REQUIRED

 Espresso Engine Recolours - 3 colours - 250 Simoleons - Small Appliances - GET TOGETHER REQUIRED

All items tagged correctly by colour and location - for example, you won't find the paintings in the plant category LOL!

DOWNLOAD FREE HERE

[code31-onthedancefloor]

you know what im just putting it in a separate post. this is my own ulixes backstory - content warning for parental+familial abuse/neglect.

Another stupid mistake.

Ulixes had forgotten to wash and put away the dishes. This had the immediate effect of enraging his father - who was hitherto consumed in a bad mood - and the expulsion of Ulixes from the family home for the night. Moronic of himself, Ulixes thought, to provoke him so thoughtlessly. Muffled in the kitchen and its yellowing white tiles with that awful, guttural shout, until Ulixes turned and ran - ran out the back door, to where his father would not follow under the siren call of another pyrholidon from the fridge. 

And so he sat, looking up at the house and the pale sky above it. An entire wooden thing slumping dauntless before him. It rotted and shook and groaned through stormy nights, as if aware of its absurd and depressing existence. Embarrassed by the silence of its residents. Apathetic to the omen of another hard winter. On the little porch around the back that nobody ever used - where it wouldn’t dampen his trousers - Ulixes wondered into the thrice-unread pages of his book: why doesn’t it just fall? 

Yet, the clocks kept turning, and the mice wouldn’t stop running through the pantry. Little scampering-scratching in the walls beside his bed. The pigeons that nested in the chimney each Summer. Ulixes Bücher, tucked away where no-one would try to find him. Empty pantries. Cold bed. Crumbling chimney. Ulixes, tucking himself away. That was the way of things. That was how nature was slowly reclaiming the Bücher household. Day by day. Night by night. 

Especially those long, long nights which were as black as pitch and twice as humid. Where he as a little boy would toss and turn and dream of the entire wretched house collapsing. In those dreams, he would wake up in the morning, surrounded by and buried in rubble - the mounted deer head, the ripped clothes, the four-poster bed in his parent’s room, the fine china that was never used - and Ulixes, sole survivor, a tiny dot in the wreckage, emerging. Fifteen tumbling steps to the left, and he would happen upon the remains of the family jewels. In this childish fantasy, Ulixes would sell the jewels and move far, far away. It didn’t matter where. The house just needed to fall. So why didn’t it? 

In a fit of frustration, he snapped his book shut. Wind tousled his hair as he meandered through the overgrown garden: through the long furs of grass - the deadnettle, which his older brothers would pick the flowers off to jokingly whip at him - past the old pine trees, all the way to the back. Here, a shed almost as old as the house itself stands vigil against the elements. A slightly brighter shade of wood, still dulled by years of use and disuse. A musky hint of rainy evenings past, warping the walls. Windowless. 

And no lock, of course - nobody would just let themselves into here, not in the East. Not where you were picked off the street and sent back across the canal for the most minor of public infractions. Except, nobody in the Bücher household has repeatedly accessed this little hovel either. Perhaps since his grandfather, as far as Ulixes knows. He did woodwork, or something to that effect, in his spare time. Back when they employed house-servants, this place could possibly have gone over the rusting equipment with a dust-rag. Now, all the erstwhile sawdust has simply blown away; a blessing for the jacket on Ulixes’ back which is quickly going to become a mattress under the dented, discoloured workbench - one of the only things nailed to the floor. 

He doesn’t know how many hours his grandfather spent here. By all accounts, he was a silent old man, praised by Ulixes’ siblings for scoring a once-in-a-lifetime engineering commission from a previously blossoming city. In fact, the Bücher household seem to have a thing for dying before Ulixes ever meets them. Apart from those who still remain in the house, he knows of one cousin who moved away to Jamrock, never to be heard of again. Every other member is locked in an eternal, poisonous game of one-upmanship over dinner, concerning wage brackets and managerial positions. Quoting the spiteful rants of his oldest brother - there used to be openings. And now there aren’t. Honest, skilled workers like he are forced back across the canal for work, where the jobs are cheap and the turnover is cheaper. His Aunt, spitting into a wine glass about mingling with the lower people, how the trickle-down up-swing has faded, how stagnancy has strangled her aspiration of a nice car and the subsequent respect that would blossom on everyone’s faces when she turns up in that. 

They have made it abundantly clear that whatever blessed the Bücher family three generations ago is never doubling back. The repairs the home direly needs will never be happening. Even if they did, the resounding result would simply be putting a plaster on a stab-wound. It doesn’t matter how much junk his father sells to put him through a return-on-investment education. So, why doesn’t the house fall? 

He breathes the afternoon light, perched in the doorframe; leaning. In contrast to the opulence of his grandparents’ tailor-made mansion, the shed is a utilitarian thing. Cuboid and sturdy, with its thick walls and insulated door - telling the tale of a person who would be complained away from the porch by neighbours or would not be dissuaded from partaking in outdoor hobbies in Winter. A floor softened by work boots. Flecks of paint and glue and oil staining in intervals. The whisper of pine needles reverberating around. So much wood, he thinks, like a little hole in a tree. A bird’s nest, from which he is watching the grey bulb of the sky grow dimmer and dimmer. Until the trees and the too-tall fence and the grasses turn into a shadow-puppet show. Until all Ulixes can hear is the wind. Until Ulixes can no longer read his book - only able to see a vague outline of his hands, and the stars still somehow shining through the city smog. Until he whistles, and the air stops whistling that jaunty little tune back into his ears, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. That is when he shuts the door to the shed. 

It is warm, Ulixes’ little nest. Thrumming with that insulation, that warp-curved geometry. It does something comforting to your brain, such like a reinforcing example does for a belief you already hold. He parts his chapped lips, and pushes his tongue to the back of his throat. A little click of sound is released. A pushing of a particularly satisfying button - or the trigger pulled on an empty gun-barrel? 

The click bounces off the walls. It is an instantaneous cacophony, finished in less than a second. But it reels back his mind from wandering back to earlier, where the dishes were stacked and dirty and his father’s face was… 

Click. Click. Click. 

Echo. Echo. It never fails. Nothing is used against him, here - where no one will look for him. 

Ulixes opens his book to the middle before resting his head on it. He knows by experience the floor will mercifully not hurt his body come morning. A jacket, brown, coming apart at the seams, slung over his thin frame. 

Tonight, he dreams again of the house falling down. The wind; terrible and exacting, will extricate the foundations from the tumour of Revachol East and tumble it in a chef-swirl across the street. Miraculously, it would ignore The Shed, just as Ulixes would awake the next day to ruins, only to completely disregard its contents in favour of walking into the encroaching Pale. As if there was something in there for him. In there, where the air whistles back at him. 

[etfor78]

https://homment.com/F8pSHqFQtcuLsou5gQX9

[snapmite1998]

Rook Kast stood on the command deck of The Spirit of Vengeance, flagship of Darth Maul, her gaze piercing through the expansive viewport to the star-studded void beyond. This vessel, a formidable symbol of power, was an extension of herself—a weapon to wield against the chaotic currents of the galaxy. As leader of the Mandalorian Super Commandos, she had made a monumental choice in aligning herself with Sith Lord Darth Maul. It was a decision that resonated deep within her, echoing the very essence of her people’s warrior spirit.

The past had shaped her, the traditions of the Mandalorians fueling her resolve. They were bred for battle, forged in the fires of conflict, and destined for greatness. Her alliance with Maul wasn’t merely a tactical move; it was the embodiment of her commitment to ensure her people would reclaim their legacy as conquerors. Together, under the banner of Crimson Dawn, they would reshape the galaxy—a canvas waiting for the brushstrokes of their ambition.

Rook knew the power that lay within loyalty, especially to someone as formidable as Maul. His vision for the galaxy mirrored her own; both craved a new world order, one where fear and dominance reigned. The Sith Lord was not just an ally; he was a potent catalyst for the resurgence of her people, a dark force that could harness their battle prowess for a greater purpose. Her faith in him was absolute, forged through their shared desires and ambitions.

The command deck thrummed with energy as her commandos prepared for their next mission. She could feel their anticipation, their eagerness to carve out their rightful place in the universe. They were a reflection of her own resolve—a fierce, proud lineage of warriors ready to follow her into the depths of war. Together, they would be the architects of a new era, one where the Mandalorians soared to power beneath the shadow of Crimson Dawn.

Rook’s thoughts wandered to the future; to the conquests that awaited them, the territories they would claim, and the respect they would command. She envisioned entire systems bending to their will, the stories of their victories echoing across the stars. She would ensure that her people not only fought and conquered but became legends.

As she watched her warriors gear up, a spark ignited within—the exhilaration of an impending battle, the intoxicating mix of danger and glory that awaited them. Rook Kast was ready. Her heart raced not only for the battles to come, but for the bond she shared with those who followed her and the Sith Lord who guided their path. In the name of power, loyalty, and ambition, she would carve out the future of the galaxy, wielding her weaponry and her will with unwavering conviction. The galaxy would soon know the might of the Mandalorians once again, and under Maul's guidance, they would reclaim their legacy of fearsome warriors destined for greatness.

Placing her helmet over her head, the familiar sensation of the cool, polished Mandalorian beskar enveloped her with a sense of purpose and strength. The amber visor lit up, reflecting her battle-ready demeanor as Rook Kast made her way to the hangar bay of The Spirit of Vengeance, her boots echoing against the metallic floor in a steady rhythm that resonated with determination. She could feel the anticipation in the air, the electric thrill that buzzed among her fellow commandos as they prepared for the mission ahead.

The hangar bay was alive with activity, the roar of engines mixing with the shouts of technicians and the clanking of heavy armor. Rows of Kom'rk transports sat ready, their sleek designs serving as both vehicles and symbols of the formidable force they represented. Rook’s heart raced; these ships were not just metal and machinery—they were extensions of her people’s will, vessels that would carry them to victory.

As she approached her commandos, their faces illuminated with a blend of fierce loyalty and excitement, Rook couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. Each warrior stood tall, their armor gleaming under the artificial lights, ready to unleash the storm that was the Mandalorian fighting spirit. She strode forward, her presence commanding the attention of every soldier in the room.

“Today, we carve our place in the galaxy,” Rook declared, her voice resonating through the hangar. “With the strength of our blades and the fury of our fire, we will show the galaxy the true power of Mandalore. Under the banner of Crimson Dawn, we will seize our destiny!”

A chorus of cheers erupted, the Mandalorian warriors united in their fervor, their spirits ignited by her words. Rook felt the bond between them strengthen, the shared purpose coursing through their veins as they prepared for the clash ahead. Beyond the confines of this ship, battles awaited them—challenges that would test their mettle, their loyalty, and their skills.

She climbed aboard the lead Kom'rk transport, the cockpit brimming with the latest technology and weapons systems. Her commandos followed closely, securing themselves in their seats while readying their blasters. Rook’s resolve hardened as she took in the sight of her fellow warriors. They were poised for action, eager for the fray.

As the engines roared to life, she felt the vibration beneath her—the pulse of power that surged through the transport. It mirrored the energy within her own chest, a ferocious blend of anticipation and determination. As they lifted off from the hangar bay, Rook glanced back at her loyal commandos, each of them a reflection of her own fierce spirit.

This was more than a mission; it was a call to arms that would reverberate throughout the galaxy. Rook Kast would lead her warriors into the heart of the storm, where glory awaited them, and the legacy of the Mandalorians would be reborn in blood and fire.

[spectorofthegun]

❝Your father was weak - I expect you to be so much greater Daniel...❞

SHORT BIOGRAPHY

DANIEL AJMAL SPECTOR - KHATRI is the child of Marc Spector and Halima Khatri. Danny was raised by his mother Halima, a United Kingdom Royal Marine in London. Despite having what would appear to be an ordinary childhood, Daniel's mother kept the history of his father completely hidden, which would lead to Danny's life eventually coming to a dramatic turn by the age of twenty.

Attending Aston University to study Biomedical Engineering, Daniel came home to his mother's flat one fateful night after class to discover her lifeless body lying in the kitchen with a hammer lodged into her skull. The giant body of Raul Bushman stood over her, waiting for her son and the child of his mortal enemy to return home. The trained mercenary proceeded to beat the young man to a bloody pulp.

During this moment, the blur of a man dressed in white ensued in a violent clash with Bushman. The battle left the hero known as Moon Knight dead, yet his enemy remained alive.

On the verge of death, Daniel Khatri reached out to his mother, letting his hands touch her face one last time before allowing the embrace of the afterlife to take him... but an otherworldly presence had other ideas. With his original host dead and lifeless, the Moon God known as Khonshu reached out to the child of his former champion.

"Do you want revenge?" asked the God "Do you desire to bring your mother's killer to justice?" a hand slammed onto the floor next to Daniel's body... "TELL ME! Tell me before you are gone! Before it is too late! I have the power to give you what you desire... and to save your life."

It was a reaction he would later regret... one he wasn't even sure he truly meant to say. But suddenly, Daniel's lips formed the word: "Yes.."

"RISE-" Commanded the God of the Moon, slamming the butt of his staff into the ground. "RISE SON OF SPECTOR! BECOME MORE THAN YOU WERE - MORE THAN YOU HAVE EVER BEEN! RISE AND RECLAIM YOUR FATHER'S TITLE AS MY... MOON KNIGHT!" White wraps of linen suddenly appeared, his wounds and bloodied face healed slowly, his eyes turned a bright blue, and suddenly... Daniel Spector was someone else entirely.

ANCESTRY

Daniel is of Jewish, Palestinian, and Indian heritage. Despite his father being Jewish, Danny has no connection to the religion nor does he have any interest in religion in general. Daniel considers himself an atheist and believes that Khonshu is simply a powerful scientific being rather than an actual God.

SEXUALITY

Daniel is heterosexual, but has a hard time often forming romantic relationships due to confidence issues.

AS MOON KNIGHT

Danny is considered Khonshu's High Priest but does whatever he possibly can to ignore the whispers in his mind that the Egyptian deity plants. His relationship is even more complicated through the God due to Daniel having a particular disdain for his father, Marc Spector.

Daniel is against the idea of killing, which Khonshu takes great offense to. A pacifist for most of his life, Danny tries to extract vengeance through an unrealistic softer approach that is slowly fading from his reality. Despite this fact, Daniel has no issues with physically hurting or traumatizing criminals depending on the severity of their crimes.

Daniel only chose to become Moon Knight to avenge his mother's killer. While he considers himself a pacifist, he has every intention of finding and killing Raul Bushman.