#life settlement investments

[sayruq]

So, I've had people asking, why does it matter if rockets are fired towards Tel Aviv and other settlements when they cause a fraction of the damage done by an Israeli missile?

Psychological warfare - the rocket barrages eliminate any sense of security that Israelis might have during the war. It reminds them that there's a price for the occupation of Palestine. I can't tell you how many videos I've seen of people in luxury resorts and other high class lodgings shouting and fleeing in fear at a rocket from Gaza or Yemen. It makes it hard for them to go about their daily life ignoring what is happening. Furthermore it undermines the strength of the IDF. Netanyahu can go on TV and claim to have complete control over Gaza but a rocket barrage undoes that easily. A rocket barrage tells Israelis and the rest of the world that not only is Hamas (and the other groups) still intact, it has enough of a stockpile to still bomb parts of Israel over 50 days into the conflict. Israeli media is constantly shocked every time this happens because there's always the assumption that Palestinians are unprepared in every way for the conflict we're seeing today. It forces them to take the threat posed by the Resistance very seriously which of course leads to the existential meltdowns you see on Israeli social media accounts.

De-settlement - There are hundreds of thousands of internally displaced settlers right now. Most of them are unwilling to return because the settlements are still getting hit and it's obvious the IDF is struggling to get things under control. The annexation of Palestinian land and the formation of settlements has led to a great deal of violence towards Palestinians in both Gaza and the West Bank. Hence, why forcing settlers to evacuate is seen as a great success by the Resistance and their supporters. Hezbollah, for example, has mentioned that several times while doing debriefs of their efforts in the conflict

Hits to the economy - if the settlers are evacuated, who will run local businesses? Not to mention underpaid and overworked foreign migrant workers have fled the country while exploited Gazan workers are trapped in Gaza. Israel is trying to combat this by making deals with countries like India and Mali to get tens of thousands of workers but it's not going to be enough especially the longer this conflict goes on. There's also the fact that tourism won't recover to pre war levels due to security concerns. The same thing with foreign capital leaving the country. Israel is too unstable and evidently incapable of regaining that stability (by quickly defeating the Palestinian resistance) which makes it risky to invest in Israeli businesses.

Logistical nightmare - Gazan rockets are cheap to produce, Israeli interceptor missiles are not. Israel is spending more to stop the barrages of rockets than the Resistance has spent probably in the past 5 years. It's the same issue on the Northern border to Lebanon and whenever Yemen sends its long range missiles. It's not like both Israel, America and Europe have endless supplies of weapons and ammunition, they sent most of their stockpiles to Ukraine. The longer this goes on, the more dire things will get but we're already seeing the strain

[evilvillain123456789]

My demonic fucking boomer f*ther is always telling me not to make posts like this while waching tiktoks picture in picture on my samsung zflip 5 and slamming celsuis energy supplement and ritalin and sudafed and caffeine pills while doing promotional work in an IRC channel on the family santa fe's onboard computer all while doing 90 on i75 northbound (to go steal from the gainesville athleta [because, yes, i have been banned from every mid priced womens athliesure retailer in the orlando metropolitan area, thanks for asking]). news flash "dad", as if you didn't grow up staring at the gaydge cluster on your old boomer car and fucking shifting gears every five minutes, because it's literally the exact. same. thing. also im mentally ill and need constant stimulation or i WILL crash the family santa fe into other cars or pedestrians. Whose fauult is this exactly??? let's see, whos the sickly, old boomer war criminal with a taste for poisonous offgasses, which mutated and weakened his focking sperms, hmmmmmm??? The pathetic little fuck is barely clinging to life now and i think it would push him over the edge if he learned that i borrowed against his settlement, because god forbid anyone provide for this fucking family, and god forbid a mentally ill queer woman be a fucking antraprenore... its like my rival investment guru always said, no one ever made seven figures rugpulling on doomed NFTs by hanging around in the persian gulf inhaling toxic fumes like some kind of- FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK YOU BITCHES MADE ME MISS MY FUCKING EXIT!!!

[girlactionfigure]

🧵𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝: 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐉𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐬𝐫𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭? 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭: 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐬.

Enough is enough, Let’s set the record straight: the claim that Arabs welcomed Jews to Israel after the Holocaust is a false narrative and just a lie. The reality is that it's a much more complex and challenging history. Here’s a comprehensive look at the real dynamics of Jewish immigration and the reception in Israel.

1/ An Ancient Bond: Jews and the Land of Israel.

Let me first say that The idea that Jews arrived in Israel only as Holocaust refugees disregards their ancient and continuous connection to the land. Jews have maintained a consistent presence in Israel for thousands of years, documented in ancient texts and archaeological findings. Cities like  Jerusalem, Hebron, and  Safed were significant centers of Jewish life long before the 20th century. This deep-rooted connection shows the significance of Israel to the Jewish people throughout history.

2/ The status of Israel in the 1880s

By the 1880s, when the First Aliyah began, Israel was largely neglected and in disrepair. The region suffered from economic stagnation, sparse infrastructure, and minimal habitation. Many areas were desolate, with abandoned villages and a general lack of modern amenities. Public health conditions were dire, with widespread malaria and typhoid fever, and there was a severe shortage of medical facilities and basic health care. The land had been left in a state of neglect by previous rulers and local inhabitants, who had not invested in its development.

3/ The Transformation by Jewish Immigration.

Jewish immigrants arriving in the 1880s faced severe conditions but undertook significant efforts to transform the land. They joined the local Jewish community and they established agricultural settlements, drained swamps, and developed irrigation systems, turning barren land into productive farmland. New towns and cities emerged, such as Tel Aviv, which started as a small neighborhood and grew into a bustling urban center. Their work laid the foundation for the modern state of Israel, significantly enhancing living conditions and infrastructure.

4/ Hostility from Local Arab Populations.

Despite the historical presence of Jews, the arrival of Jewish immigrants in the late 19th and early 20th centuries was met with increasing hostility from local Arabs. Many of these Arabs, who began migrating to Israel around the same time as the First Aliyah, viewed the Jewish newcomers with growing animosity. This hostility manifested in violent confrontations and revolts, such as the 1929 Hebron massacre, where 67 Jews were killed, and the Arab revolt from 1936 to 1939, which targeted Jewish settlements and British authorities. This resistance reflects the significant opposition Jews faced, contrary to claims of a warm welcome.

5/ The Arab Mufti’s Alliance with Nazi Germany.

The situation grew more complex during World War II. Haj Amin al-Husseini, the Grand Mufti of  Jerusalem, sought an alliance with Nazi Germany. In 1941, he met with Adolf Hitler, offering support for the Nazi regime and advocating for anti-Jewish policies in Palestine. This collaboration proves again the intense hostility Arab leaders had towards Jews and their aspirations, complicating the notion of Arab support for Jewish migration.

6/ The Efforts of Local Jews to Aid Holocaust Survivors

In stark contrast to the hostility faced, local Jewish communities in Palestine went to extraordinary lengths to assist Holocaust survivors. As the horrors of the Holocaust became known, Jewish organizations in Israel, including the Jewish Agency and various relief committees, worked tirelessly to find refuge for survivors. They orchestrated complicated immigration operations, known as Aliyah Bet, to bypass British restrictions and bring Jews to Israel. The efforts of these local Jewish organizations were instrumental in providing sanctuary and rebuilding lives.

7/ The Birth of modern Israel and the 1948 War.

The Holocaust heightened the urgency for a Jewish homeland. Despite restrictive British immigration policies, many Jews found refuge in Israel. The establishment of the modern State of Israel in 1948 was met with fierce opposition from neighboring Arab countries, who rejected the creation of a Jewish state. This rejection led to the Arab-Israeli War of 1948, driven by the refusal to accept a Jewish state and resulting in significant losses for the Arab forces.

8/ Displacement and Historical Complexity.

The narrative that Jews “took away” Arab land oversimplifies a complex situation. The land of Israel has always been home to a diverse population, including Jews, Muslims, and Christians. The 1948 war and subsequent conflicts led to significant displacement on both sides, including the expulsion of Jews from Arab countries and the creation of Palestinian refugees. This complexity reflects a turbulent history rather than a simple story of land grabbing.

9/ Refuting the “Jews Left” Myth.

The claim that Jews left Israel and returned only after the Holocaust is misleading. The fluctuating Jewish population in Israel over the years does not negate the fact that Jews have consistently maintained a presence there. The migration waves of the 1880s and 1920s demonstrate a profound connection to the land, driven by historical and spiritual significance, not by temporary circumstances.

Saying that Jews left Israel and came back only after the Holocaust is like saying that pasta isn’t Italian because there was a shortage in the 1930s. The essence of our connection to the land has remained unbroken, despite periods of challenge and fluctuation. Just as Italian cuisine remains Italian regardless of temporary shortages, the historical and spiritual bond of Jews to Israel endures despite the changing dynamics over time.

11/ Conclusion: Resilience Through Truth

The ongoing attempts to distort, manipulate, or deny Jewish heritage and historical facts only serve to strengthen our resolve and unity. No one welcomed us to Israel after the Holocaust but the local Jewish community, who worked tirelessly to provide refuge and rebuild lives. Despite the efforts to alter or obscure these historical truths, they remain steadfast and undeniable.

We will not let you change our history. No matter how much people try to change this fact, it won’t work. Throughout history, countless attempts have been made to erase or undermine the Jewish people, and each time, these efforts have failed. Today, with a strong and thriving State of Israel, it is not only misguided but delusional to believe that such attempts can succeed. The more history is challenged or distorted, the closer and stronger we become as a people. Our connection to the land, our historical narrative, and our cultural identity are deeply ingrained and resilient, reinforcing our unbreakable bond to the land and our unwavering strength as a nation.

@AP_from_NY

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The Pettiness of Man

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

Human pocket kingdoms were the result of the fragmented nature of humanity’s space exploration and settlement programs. Central authority still resided with the Terran Protectorate the closer one got to the Terran homeworld, but the further one went the less and less power the Protectorate had leaving opportunistic parties to establish their own domains.

The Federalist Union and Kingdom of the Fallen Sun were two such domains. Each situated in their own star system neighboring the other, the two realms had at one point been part of what was known as the Caspen Initiative. Funded by the Caspen Corporation, both systems were colonized and put under direct corporate rule rather than the laws of the Protectorate.

The Truna System held the most infrastructure and had turned its settlements into thriving cities. The comforts of the core worlds could be found here in abundance leading to a higher quality of life. It was here Caspen situated their corporate headquarters for the initiative which further led to the system becoming a major trade hub.

In contrast, the Kefer System was still largely untamed and wild yet rich with natural resources. Caspen did not wish to risk losing more experienced personnel on these planets nor take the time to invest in an expensive robotic work force. The wildlife across all the planets within the Kefer System was extremely hostile and dangerous; resulting in the failures of two colonization attempts already. In the end Caspen instead was able to obtain several transports of convicted criminals and turn them into penal laborers.  Fortified factories were established with a heavily armed guard force watching over the laborers and delivering them expected quotas. In exchange for their labor they were provided with basic necessities for living and comfort; though the prisoners soon realized that the corporate ideal of “comfort” was often the least expensive option they could find.

Initially the management of both systems under the Caspen Corporation went well the company saw ever increasing share values. Unsurprisingly though, corporations are not equipped to act as a governing body and rifts soon began brewing in both systems. In Truna, the citizens began moving for more reasonable work hours and a louder voice in who is selected for high level positions. Around the same time the penal laborers in Kefer began planning mass revolts to overthrow an increasingly oppressive guard force that repeatedly put them in danger for the sake of profit margins. Caspen naturally tried to clamp down on the unrest, but their often heavy handed retaliations only further inflamed dissident movements to the point open revolt occurred almost simultaneously.

The resulting struggle would eventually see the complete removal of the Caspen Corporation from both systems, but also lay the groundwork for future conflicts between the newly established Federalist Union of the Truna system and the Kingdom of the Fallen Sun in the Kefer System.

The Unionists of Truna saw the penal laborers as nothing more than convicts and refused to recognize their newly founded kingdom as legitimate. Likewise the newly freed prisoners of Kefer, under their chosen king Sigvold the Mad, saw the citizens of Truna as part of the corporate machine that had made their lives a living hell and wanted nothing to do with them.

Each side regards the other as being the natural aggressor, but to finding the truth of who fired the first shot will never be known. What is certain is that not long after their corporate overlords were driven away did both systems set their sights on each other.

For nearly two centuries both systems have been at war with each other with the Federalist Union developing into a thriving independent system and the Kingdom of the Fallen Sun becoming a haven for every backwater, illegal, and nefarious scoundrel the galaxy has to offer. The Federalist council has attempted to isolate the Kefer system via naval blockades, while the new king Haren Hammer launches periodic raids against the Union to steal technology and supplies.

It looked like the stalemate would continue until the end of time until a third party intervened.

The alien species Gresh’n had been eyeing the prosperous worlds in the Truna System and had waited for the right moment to strike and claim them for their own. This moment came when the Federalist Union deployed the majority of their fleet to make yet another attempt to destroy the Kingdom of the Fallen Sun and remove the corruption so close to their doorstep.

Once the Gresh’n confirmed both human fleets were locked in deadly battle did they commit their own forces to invading the Federalist Union.

Caught completely unaware, the forces left to protect the borders of the Federalist Union were easily swept aside in a series of lightning strikes. Even the capital world came under siege with Gresh’n forces poised to conquer the world in little more than a month.

Just when the system was at its darkest something beyond comprehension happened.

At the outskirts of the Truna System the Gresh’n detected a massive fleet. The picket lines established to screen the main invasion force were decimated and when the mystery fleet finally held orbit and squared off with the primary fleet of the Gresh’n military they were surprised to see that it was comprised of both Unionist and Kingdom forces. Before the final battle commenced a system wide broadcast went out originating from the Kingdom’s flagship and personal ship of king Harren Hammer.

“YOU FUCKING INGRATES!!!” the pocket king shouted into the camera, “YOU’VE RUINED EVERYTHING!!!!”

“FOR YEARS I PLANNED THE PERFECT WAR TO END THESE UNION BASTARDS ONCE AND FOR ALL AND YOU COME ALONG AND FUCK IT UP! I WILL NOT HAVE MY VICTORY STOLEN FROM ME!”

With that the massed armada descended on both the Gresh’n fleet and their forces on the capital world. The civilized citizens of the Union watched as they were rescued by pirates, thieves, criminals, and every variety of psychopaths the galaxy had a name for while overhead Kingdom junkers and corsair ships boarded Gresh’n ships and took them as trophies.

After thirteen hours of intense fighting the Gresh’n finally flung up the proverbial white flag and surrendered. King Harren replied that he would give them a three hour head start and that after that every Gresh’n in system would be hunted down and killed. In its weakened state the Federalist Union could not oppose this decision and so remained quiet.

Three hours passed and true to his word King Harren began a massive hunt the likes of which are still spoken of. Fleeing Gresh’n ships were magnetically harpooned as they fled and dragged back to be boarded by cutthroats while Gresh’n ground forces pleaded to deaf eared Union citizens for shelter as the Kingdom vagabonds scoured the planet for new trophies.

When the hunt was finally finished there was no exchange of thanks, nor celebration held in honor of their saviors. The forces of the kingdom withdrew one by one, hulls full of new bounty, until only King Harren’s flagship remained.

“You get five years to rebuild.” He said over another system wide broadcast. “After that I’m coming back and taking this all proper.”

With that final ominous warning the pocket king left.

The effects of the Gresh’n failed invasion would have limited impact on the wider galaxy save for the fact it would teach future alien leaders that when considering invasions of human territory, one could not always count on the enemy of your enemy being your friend.

[annie-also-draws]

Hades Charmes brain rot dump

Domestic Charmes Modern Au for my needs bc there’s not enough art of them HNNNNG (bless you AO3 writers)

Some designs for Hermes. (Charon’s still in the backlog in my head rn). Hermes with glasses anyone??? 😭

I’m in the deep trenches of making my own Au where Hermes and Charon are finance bros (god of commerce and the god who collects gold, duh, ain’t no way they’re dirt poor).

There’s plenty of fics that display Hermes as the black sheep of the family who’s running his own life away from his family doing odd jobs and barely hangs on (no hate I love them!!!) but there’s not enough Rich! Hermes out there so I just gotta insert my own brain rot. Charon and Hermes working for rival finance companies (one deal with future investment and one deal with settlement money/clauses after one’s death (idk if it’s a real thing but meh)

Check the tags for the synopsis lol AO3 style

Bless Jen Zee for long hair Hermes bc all the hairstyle I can conjure from this 😩🙏

The glasses started as a goofy accessory and ended up staying. Longsighted-Hermes who can’t see things that are close to him and uses contact lenses at work 👁️👁️. Only wears glasses at home (with Charon). Grows very little beard and is perpetually tired bc overworked! Hermes is so canon.

[dosesofcommonsense]

From BioClandestine on Telegram

If Trump wins 2024, he will halt all funding for Ukraine, negotiate an end to conflict with Putin, thus preventing WW3.

The reason Biden and the Deep State cannot negotiate with Putin, is because Putin wants their heads for crimes against humanity, namely for manufacturing C19.

This is not speculation on my part. Russian MIL literally listed Joe Biden, Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama, and George Soros, as being the main ideologists behind the plot to manufacture coronavirus strains in Ukraine, with US DoD funding, and there is an open source paper trail to back it up. You can debate on whether or not you believe them, but the reality is, Putin wants the “Western Elites” and Xi agrees with him.

It’s not hyperbolic to say that this is life or death for the Deep State actors. If Trump wins and negotiates a settlement with Putin, Russian MIL have already been demanding for activation of Articles V and VI of the Biological Weapons Treaty, which would result in a Security Council investigation and international military tribunals. That’s what Russian MIL have been demanding at the UN for nearly 2 years now. And that’s just the biological stuff, not even accounting for the whole 2014 coup, shelling the Donbas, funding and supporting Ukraine in 2022, Nord Stream, etc.

What do you think Trump is going to say? No? Trump wants to prosecute the exact same people for crimes against humanity! Putin is literally demanding that all of Trump’s enemies trying to imprison him, must be prosecuted by military tribunal… How could Trump say no to that?! He’d be killing multiple birds with one stone. And Trump’s DOJ wouldn’t have to do the prosecuting. It would be a coalition of military judges from different countries around the world. It would be far more legitimate and no way could the Dems cry “partisanship”. It’s international law.

Y’all might think it’s crazy, but this is the trajectory we are headed on if Trump wins, which is why the Biden regime are going to do everything in their power to prevent Trump from winning. If they fail, they will be treated as international war criminals, and will face the ultimate penalty.

Extinction Level Event (for the deep state, for globalism, for all their synvophants in levels of government and the MSM).

Let’s say Russia and China are lying, and the US did not manufacture C19.

Then why would Fauci, Collins, and the US government, put so much effort into covering up the lab origins?

Why are the US and their allies the only ones NOT interested in who caused a global pandemic?

Why did government health agencies and Big Tech censor scientists and journalists who pointed out its lab origins? If someone else created this virus, why are the US government so invested in covering up who is responsible? Over a million Americans died, shouldn’t they be tirelessly trying to find out who killed all those people?

Who benefited from the pandemic? American Pharmaceutical companies, that began the vaccine development BEFORE the pandemic. Who funds the MSM and Deep State politicians? Big Pharma.

If Russia and China are lying, why is it that the US veto every request at the UN Security Council for a joint investigation into the origins of C19?

There are two options. Elements within the US are responsible, or, a different entity is responsible and the US government went out of their way to cover it up.

The paper trail confirms it’s the former, but either way, heads must roll.

[koras-human-warriors]

how do u design outfits? also, what are the nearby villages opinions on the clans?

Thank you for asking!!! Asks fuel my passion! Long post warning!

Outsiders

Instead of kittypets and rouges, we got the outsider settlements, which are just basically generic, 1800's European settlers and farmers.

The outsiders rarely interact with the clans outside of trading, seeing them as either savages or bandits- not helped by Bloodclan. When the clans were young, there were a lot of issues with fights breaking out between Thunderclan, Shadowclan, Skyclan, and these villages. The clans had a bad habit or raiding the villiages for and the villagers thought the clans were godless heathens. This reached its peak when once of the nearby villages had enough and burned down Skyclan's entire settlement and driving them out.

This being said, many outsiders do see the clans as being cool- afterall that's how we got our white boy Firestar!

Clan Fashion!

Thunderclan

their outfits are pretty medieval northern European and viking inspired. They raise sheep, so they get a lot of wool, which is both worn and traded. Warriors will often wear the pelts of the animals and monsters they kill for bragging rights. This makes them great for cold weather, but summers are rough. Jewelry is usually worn by women, but earrings are popular among men. Thunderclan clothes are not all that colorful because they have a higher need for camouflage. Thunderclan is, unfortunately, not the best with hygiene (stinky), but they are pretty good about taking care of their hair. Clan color is red and gold, which they wear red during clan gatherings and battles to distinguish the clan apart.

Windclan

Inspired vaguely by Eastern Asian Cultures - mostly Japan (I was a weeboo when I made this au, sorry). Since they have a lot more open land than the other clans, they invested in more farms over hunting, which has resulted in being able to get better clothing either through crafting or trade. They have a silk farm that produces good fabric for the clan, with the extra being traded to outsiders or in clan gatherings. This alos allowes their garments to be lightweight and easy to move in. They have very colorful clothes since they rely on stealth a lot less than others. Green is their clan color, so it the most popular. Hygiene is really important to them and hold spiritual significance (though this may be the medicine folks trying to get people to take better care of their bodies). Long hair is popular among older warriors, but younger, less experienced warriors are encouraged to keep it short because hair pulling is a classic shadowclan move.

Riverclan

Clothing is mostly Greek and Roman with a hint of Pacific islander for their tattoos and jewelry. Riverclaners spean 90% of their day in or around water, so they wear very little clothes in their daily life. Man rarely even wear shirts- showing off as much of their ceremonial warrior tattoos as possible. They don't have much room for growing cotton or raising animals, so they get most of that through trade (or stealing from Thunderclan). Jewelry is huge for both sexes.-both seen with some sort of colorful shell or shiny stone somewhere on their bodies. Their hygiene is okay... they wash often, but they always smell a little like seaweed or fish. Clan color is blue!

Shadowclan

Unlike the other clans, Shadowclan is not strongly linked to any specific culture. Instead, seeing as how they have a long history of letting in outsiders and they are seen as suspicious by the other clans, I made the pirate like! They wear pretty similar clothing to the outsiders that I've next door. Practical clothing is preferred to stylish stuff - if you wear jewelry flashy colors, they are gonna make fun of you. Most Shadowclaners keep their hair short because it is easier to keep the mud and bugs out. Women and medicine wear scarves or wraps over their hair for both religious reasons and to keep their hair from getting damaged. Hygiene wise, they are trying their best. Clan color is purple.

All clans wear custom cat masks for ceremony and battle

[ak-vintage]

Quarry - Chapter 7

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: Please note new TWs in red!!! Reader is Mando's bounty, second-person POV, Din Djarin POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, intimidation, physical abuse (not perpetrated by Din or reader), discussions of slavery and indentured servitude, power dynamics, trauma

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Three days later found the Razor Crest descending through the atmosphere of a planet quite unlike any you had ever seen. It was just barely sunset local time, and endless plains of black, volcanic rock and charcoal sand stretched out before you, painted in hues of red and gold as the sun sank in the pale sky. The matte black surface was broken up by a complex spiderweb of lava rivers, flowing almost too slowly to be perceived, throwing jets of steam into the air. Nestled in the valley of two large rock formations, a sprawling settlement of whitewashed buildings and colorful market stalls poured into the surrounding flats. A small spaceport could be seen just on the edge of it all, marked by glowing outlines of designated landing zones and manned by a variety of staff in yellow jumpsuits milling about the place.

“So that’s it, huh?” you asked from your spot in one of the co-pilot’s chairs at the rear of the cockpit. “That’s Nevarro?”

Mando nodded once, the bright light of the setting sun reflecting off the beskar dome of his helmet. “Yes.”

You brought your hand up to block the light from your squinting eyes. “Quite an operation. It’s bigger than I expected.”

“Most of what you see is a relatively recent development,” he explained. His gloved hands moved expertly, almost absent-mindedly over the landing controls, bringing the Crest into a steeper decline as you approached the landing zones. “The people in charge have become pretty invested in turning this place into a major trade center. Sure is a step up from the back-water Guild town it used to be. Looks like they’ve done even more with it since the last time I was here.”

“But your Guild agent is still based here?”

“Last I heard, he made himself ‘magistrate,’” he said wryly. You could hear the dry amusement in his voice even through the vocoder.

An answering smile tugged at your mouth, and you let out a soft laugh. You supposed it wasn’t entirely uncommon for members of the Bounty Hunters Guild to end up in positions of power. It was a lucrative profession, and credits could buy more than just material goods. Still, there was something entertaining about imagining a hardened Guild agent settling himself into the cushy life of a politician.

As the Mandalorian deftly settled the ship between the well-lit lines of the nearest landing zone, however, all of the good humor seemed to evaporate from your body, and anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach like a ball of lead.

This was it. Your time was up, for real this time.

“I need to go unload the others,” Mando announced, rising from the pilot’s chair.

You swallowed thickly, then nodded and stood, as well, Grogu in your arms like always. “What – what would you like me to – ”

“You’re not going with them,” the bounty hunter interrupted with a shake of his head. “I’m handing you over to Karga personally.”

You felt your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Oh. Okay. Sure,” you replied dumbly. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“You can come down into the cargo hold with me, but stay back from the rear doors. We’ll head into town once the other bounties are taken care of.”

You nodded and gestured for him to precede you down the ladder.

By the time you made it to the lower level with Grogu in tow, Mando had opened the rear blast doors, and the ramp was halfway extended to the dusty soil below. Before it could touch the ground, however, an unfamiliar face, bright and cheerful, popped up at the foot of it.

“Hey there, Mando! Long time, no see!” the man called out with a wave. His voice was chipper and warm, and he was dressed in one of those yellow jumpsuits you had noticed from the air, the ones indicating spaceport staff. He carried an official-looking datapad in a well-worn protective casing.

The Mandalorian greeted the other man with slightly less enthusiasm. “Darro,” he acknowledged, inclining his head in his direction.

“What can I do for you? The Crest looks in a much better state than she was the last time we saw her,” the man named Darro said. His gaze flickered over the ship, assessing.

“No repairs today,” Mando confirmed. “I’m turning over six quarries. I need them unloaded, cataloged, and prepared for transport.”

The lively expression on the dock worker’s face melted away, and he stared back at the bounty hunter with something akin to awe. “Six? You brought in six quarries? All at once?” Mando nodded. “Dank farrik, man! I hope you’ve got plans to live it up for a while. You’re gonna be rolling in credits.”

Rather than respond directly, Mando reached into a small leather bag tied to his utility belt and pulled out a handful of heavy, round disks. “Here are the bounty pucks for each. Feel free to verify their identities against them,” he said, passing them to Darro. “I’ll return the tracking fobs to Karga in town.”

Darro accepted the stack of pucks with a nod. “Sure, sure. The Magistrate should be in his office. You want me to get in touch with his protocol droid for you, let him know you’re on your way up?”

The Mandalorian seemed to hesitate slightly at that, as though taken aback by the question, but he recovered quickly enough. “That won’t be necessary. He’s expecting me.”

“Okay, no problem.” The dock worker shoved the bounty pucks into one of the many deep pockets of his jumpsuit before climbing up into the Razor Crest’s cargo hold. He raised his datapad, tapping it a few times as he began to examine the bounties suspended in carbonite on the rack near the door. However, he wasn’t at it for long before he seemed to notice you, still hovering near the ladder, watching silently.

“Oh, hello there,” he said in greeting. His thousand-watt smile was back in full force, and you watched as his stance shifted, affecting a more confident, masculine swagger. “Now, I know I’d remember that face if I’d seen it before. Who’s your new friend, Mando?”

The bounty hunter drew himself up to full height, stepping in the dock worker’s line of sight to break his interested gaze. “She’s no one. Just take the quarries, Darro.”

The other man chuckled good-naturedly, appearing entirely unbothered. “All right, all right.” He brought up his free hand and offered a placating gesture. “I can see she’s already taken.”

“The quarries,” Mando repeated. His voice was hard and cold as ice, and even though it wasn’t directed at you, you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound.

“I got ‘em, I got ‘em.” Darro peaked around the rounded pauldron on Mando’s shoulder and offered you one last smile, smaller than the first, and then turned back to the carbonite slabs. He flipped a switch on each one, and you heard the faint, telltale whir of repulsorlift projectors coming online.

Leaving the dock worker to his task, the Mandalorian finally turned back to you. “It’s time to go,” he said.

You worried on your lower lip and nodded wordlessly. “Do you mind if I say good-bye to the kid?” you asked, your voice small and weaker than you wanted it to be. Mando had informed you that Grogu would be staying behind on this trip for his safety, and while you trusted his judgement, you found it odd that he would leave the boy on his own for something like this.

A part of you wondered whether he wanted to avoid Grogu causing a scene when he handed you over. You supposed you couldn’t blame him, if that was the reason.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice solemn.

You offered him a tight smile in return before lowering yourself to your knees on the deck plating. You sat the child down gingerly, your eyes meeting his huge, black ones. His little wrinkly brows were drawn up and inward on his forehead, his mouth turned down. Tears welled behind your eyes at the pitiful expression, and you fought them down. Still, your voice trembled when you spoke.

“I am…so happy to have known you, buddy. Thank you for having so much fun with me while I was here,” you said earnestly. “Now, you be a good boy for your dad, okay?”

Mando spoke up behind you at that. “I am not his – ”

But you pushed onward and added, “He loves you very much. So you two have to take good care of each other, okay?” Gathering the kid’s tiny frame against yours one last time, you hugged him tightly. Grogu cooed and squealed in your arms, a distressed, unpleasant sound, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge it. If you stayed with him for a second longer, you were going to lose the battle against your tears, and you couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t do anyone any good. Instead, you let him go, rose to your feet, and extended your hands toward the Mandalorian.

“Okay,” you said firmly. “I’m ready.”

The bounty hunter stared back at you silently for a moment, glancing between your face and your extended hands, wrists together, fingers balled in tight fists. “What are you doing?”

“I’m your quarry, remember? You can’t take me into town and hand me over to your Guild agent without restraints.” You nudged your hands in his direction again, giving him a wobbly smile. “Promise I won’t try to bust out of them this time.”

Mando hesitated, but after a moment, he crossed over to the forbidden silver cabinet along the wall, punched a code into the control panel, and pulled it open. Inside, it was as you had begun to suspect – full of an intimidating collection of firearms, blades, incendiaries, and ammunition. He reached in and produced a medium-sized set of silver binder cuffs. Wordlessly, he closed the cabinet and crossed back to you.

You wondered if perhaps you imagined it, but as he sealed the cuffs around your offered wrists, you thought he might have swiped the warm, leather pad of his thumb across the inside of your palm. Goosebumps erupted up your arm at the sensation.

“There,” he said, his voice heavy and dark. “Now let’s go.”

___

“Welcome to the Nevarro Municipal Center.” The voice of the protocol droid behind the oversized reception desk was cool and posh, and Din felt his hackles raise instantly. “Do you have an appointment?”

At first, after leaving Darro and his crew to manage the offloading of the quarries in stasis, the Mandalorian had led you across town to the quiet, modest office space Karga had been renting the last time he had been on Nevarro. However, rather than finding his Guild agent, he had instead come upon Mythrol shutting down his computer console and packing up for the night, the desk across from him empty and covered in a thin layer of dust. It was only then that the bounty hunter learned that Karga had packed up and moved into one of the larger buildings in the city center, claiming a need for something more “official” to match his new political title.

Following the blue, fish-like man’s directions, Din had back-tracked toward the central plaza, and the two of you had eventually found yourselves in the polished, echoing lobby of a large building with a whitewashed exterior. You were conspicuously the only living beings in sight, the lobby’s only other occupant a bronze TC unit holding an official-looking datapad.

“Sir? Do you have an appointment?” the droid repeated when he didn’t respond.

The bounty hunter gritted his teeth and fought back a sigh of irritation. “I’m here to see Greef Karga,” he said curtly.

“Unfortunately, sir, the High Magistrate is otherwise engaged. I would be happy to set up an appointment for you, perhaps sometime next week?”

Din shook his head and took a step forward, closing the distance between himself and the desk. “He’s expecting me. Please tell Karga that the Mandalorian is here to see him – he will know it’s me.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, sir. The High Magistrate is currently in a meeting with a very important client – the senior foreman of the New Republic’s shipyards, if you can believe that!” The TC unit sounded deeply impressed, almost reverent. “I’m sure you understand – he will not be interrupted.”

Din, of course, was entirely unmoved. And it was becoming increasingly clear to him that this droid would be of no assistance. Swearing under his breath in resignation, he wrapped his fingers around your upper arm and swiftly escorted you down the hallway on the other side of the reception desk.

As he had ushered you through the city, he had watched as your clear sadness at saying good-bye to Grogu morphed into a profound, growing unease. You had taken to keeping your eyes on the ground in front of you, refusing to look him or anyone else you met on the street in the face, and your calloused, capable hands were balled into fists so tightly your knuckles shone white in the blue light of your binder cuffs. From where his hand held your arm, he could feel that you were trying not to tremble, and he could see you chewing mercilessly on your bottom lip.

You were terrified, and it set Din’s teeth on edge in a way he couldn’t fully explain. All he knew for certain was that he needed to get this over with, as quickly as possible.

As the two of you shoved your way past, the protocol droid let out a mechanical gasp of outrage and immediately began toddling after you. Din, however, paid it no heed and simply walked faster, urging you along. He refused to allow some stuffed-shirt bucket of bolts delay him any further.

Luckily, after a few turns and a brief flight of stairs, Karga’s glass-walled office came into view.

The cool protests of the protocol droid, who was still doing its very best to catch up, took on a shrill tone then. “Sir. Sir! I must ask you to – now, you wait just a minute! You cannot simply barge in – ”

But that was precisely what Din did. Before the droid could stop him, he turned his shoulder into the office door and slammed it open with more force than was probably necessary.

As the door swung inward, the Mandalorian took in the sight of two men standing in the center of the room, clearly in the middle of a tense conversation. One, he would recognize anywhere, with his dark skin, precisely trimmed goatee, and heavy, sumptuous red robes. Karga’s hands were extended in a placating gesture, but his eyes were tight and closed off. The other man was entirely unfamiliar, though it took Din less than a second to determine that he didn’t like him.

He was tall, thin, and human, with pale skin and almost unnaturally red hair – dark and rich like the color of wine. He was dressed deceivingly simply in a plain, gray uniform with black boots, though upon closer inspection, Din found the fabric of the uniform to be finer than any he had ever seen on a man of his profession, and his boots shone as though frequently polished. Everything about him was neat as a pin, not a single hair out of place, and his thin mouth was twisted in an ugly sneer that reinforced the impression that the two men had been about to argue before you two had exploded through the door.

The metallic, tottering sound of the harried protocol droid finally catching up to you broke the strained, stunned silence.

“Oh, I am deeply sorry, High Magistrate, please forgive me, this gentleman and his companion stormed right past me – ”

Karga startled out of his surprise then, his expression quickly shifting from taut to welcoming. “Mando! I thought I might see you this evening – I watched the Razor Crest dropping through the atmosphere from my window. Please, come in, old friend.” He stepped forward, beckoning you both further into the room. “TC-48,” he added, “you’re dismissed for now. Thank you.”

If the protocol droid had had any ability to create facial expressions, Din was certain that it would have looked quite taken aback at the dismissal. Its voice sounded confused as it stuttered, “Well, I… Yes, High Magistrate” before slipping back out the door.

Karga offered both you and Din a smile that didn’t quite reach his warm, brown eyes. “Apologies for my overzealous droid, Mando. He’s new, still getting used to the place.” He gestured then toward the other man in the room. “And may I introduce my client, Orron Halcard. Master Halcard, this is – ”

But before Karga could offer any additional information, the man in gray stepped forward and tucked his hands behind his back. “I believe you have something that belongs to me,” he said abruptly. His voice was cultured and cold, his expression aloof, and the moment he spoke, Din could feel all of the muscles in your body seize up in response. Immediately, all of his senses were on high alert. To you, this man was a threat, and the urge to protect you from it was almost overwhelming.

“I will see that my asset is in good condition,” Halcard continued. He brought one thin, wiry hand out from behind his back and curled his finger at the Mandalorian, beckoning. “Bring her forward.”

Every instinct at his disposal was screaming at him to keep you far away from his man, but Din knew he could not refuse, not with Karga standing right there. Not with the promise he had made, to ensure that the exchange took place as planned. Wrestling his raging emotions into submission, he forced himself to nod once and draw you forward.

As he did so, he risked a glance at your face. However, to his surprise, in sharp contrast to the fear and anxiety that had been there since the Crest had landed on Nevarro, he found your expression to be carefully, meticulously blank. There was nothing behind your eyes, no tension between your brows or in your jaw. You were entirely vacant, and a sense of dread coated his tongue like ash at the sight.

“Hello again, pet,” Halcard murmured silkily as you came to stand before him. His sharp, pale eyes trailed over you, from your head to your feet, and he brought a hand up to rub his jaw in thought. “Hm. Turn around. Slowly.”

The Mandalorian watched as you obeyed, turning slowly in place as you stared into the middle distance, not looking at anyone or anything directly. You stopped when you faced him once again, and wordlessly, Halcard closed what little distance there was left between you by grabbing onto your chin and yanking you toward him. Using his index finger and thumb, he pressed down hard on the muscles of your jaw, forcing your mouth open. “Hm. Very good,” he said softly as he tilted your head this way and that, appearing to examine your teeth. Once he was satisfied, he dropped your jaw, and you stumbled slightly before righting yourself, never making a sound.

Din could feel his blood boiling under his skin. The sight of that man’s hands on you, the thoughtless way he handled you was enough to make his trigger finger itch.

“Well, she seems none the worse for wear,” Halcard announced. “Put on a bit of weight, perhaps, but that can be remedied.”

He turned his attention back to Karga then, seemingly mollified enough to discuss payment terms, but his last words proved to be the last straw for Din’s restraint. He had been hoping to allow the conversation to continue to evolve naturally, to learn more about you and about this man and what precisely you were wanted for, but he found he couldn’t hold back any longer. The implication that Halcard intended to starve you was too much – he couldn’t not speak.

“What is the nature of your relationship with her?” Din demanded, making no attempt to soften the harsh growl of his voice.

Halcard paused and turned back around, making direct eye contact with the Mandalorian for the first time. His brow was arched, his head cocked in surprise. “I wasn’t aware you were owed such an explanation, bounty hunter,” he replied coolly.

Karga chuckled awkwardly, his gaze darting back and forth between his two guests. “Please forgive my colleague, Master Halcard. What he means is – ”

Din bristled at the intrusion. “I meant what I said,” he snarled. “I want to know what you want with her.”

“What I want with her?” the pale man echoed. His voice had gone dangerously soft. “What an impertinent question. I want only what I am owed. As she very well knows.”

Before Din could demand he elaborate, however, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he watched, relief flooding his chest, as you took your first autonomous step forward since you had left the Razor Crest. Your face was no longer carefully vacant. No – he could see sparks of fury in your eyes, and for the first time, you tugged against the restraint of your binder cuffs.

“I don’t owe you anything,” you spat, your tone steeped in indignation. “Not anymore.”

Your sudden surge of strength was short-lived, however. The moment the words left your mouth, before Din could intervene, Halcard swung. A powerful crack echoed through Karga’s office as his backhand landed across your face, and you were sent reeling away from him.

The bounty hunter was at your side in an instant, catching you as you fell. Your lower lip was split and had begun to ooze dark red, and you had begun to shake. Cursing under his breath at the sight, Din tucked you in close against his body, his other hand flying to his blaster holster.

You were bleeding. He had killed men for less.

Karga’s voice rang out then, cutting through the chaos. “Now, now – let’s everyone take a step back and just calm. Down.”

But the Mandalorian was the furthest thing from calm. The last few minutes had proven to him what he had already begun to suspect, what he had feared to be the truth from the moment he learned just how little information had been provided about you to the Guild. This man had not been seeking you out of any care for your well-being, nor had he been seeking you because you had committed any transgression against him. He had filed your bounty with the minimum amount of information possible to not draw any additional attention to what you were – what he should have known from the beginning that you were.

You were his possession.

“She’s a slave,” Din said then, finally putting words to the realization that had a sick, sinking feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “You have slave labor working at the Chardaan Shipyards.”

Halcard scoffed at that, his face twisting into something cruel and menacing. “Hardly. She is my servant, indentured to me through a contract with her family line. The most talented bunch of starship engineers I have ever encountered. And she, unfortunately, is the last of them,” he sneered. “You cannot imagine how much time, how many credits her absence has cost my operation. But no matter. She belongs to me.”

Tucked tightly under Din’s arm, you stirred, seeming to regain some strength in the face of his claim. “My family’s debt is paid, Orron! It’s been paid for years, you know this, please just – ”

But Halcard wasn’t listening. Instead, he turned his back to both you and Din, dismissing you entirely and instead giving his full attention to Karga. “The exchange is acceptable. 7,000 New Republic credits, as agreed,” he said firmly, dropping a leather bag jangling with currency into the magistrate’s hands. “Have your bounty hunter take the binder cuffs off her. I won’t be needing them.”

Karga met the Mandalorian’s gaze then, his expression solemn and resigned. Curling his fingers around the bag of credits, he inclined his head, wordlessly ordering the bounty hunter to do as the client ordered.

Din’s jaw worked inside his helmet, his grip on your body tightening of its own volition as he stared Karga down. He knew what he had to do. He only hoped that you would permit him to explain after, that perhaps, with time, you would forgive him.

Silent as the grave, he slowly eased you from his arms and turned your body to face him. He permitted his eyes to meet yours for an instant, and you gazed back at him. He found himself watching, in real time, as you schooled your expression into something placid, something far away. It was a deeply unnatural look on you, you who were so full of life, you who wore your heart on your sleeve, and a heavy ache settled in Din’s chest at the sight. Forcing himself to look away, he thumbed a few controls on his vambrace, and your binder cuffs fell open.

“Stand aside, now, Mandalorian,” Halcard commanded, once again aloof and detached. “The deal is done.”

Din obeyed and stepped back a few paces, putting some distance between you and him.

“Very good.” The foreman approached you once more, and the beginnings of a smirk played on the edges of his thin, cruel mouth. Producing his own set of binder cuffs from a deep pocket of his uniform, he gestured for you to extend your wrists. You did so without a word, and in a moment, you were cuffed again.

However, Halcard did not stop there. Clutching onto your jaw with one hand, he yanked your head to one side, exposing your long, bare neck. With the other hand, he pulled a small, blinking device about the size of a Calamari Flan out of his pocket, and the Mandalorian watched, helpless, as your eyes widened in ice cold fear.

“No, no, no – Orron, please,” you begged softly, your voice trembling, your gaze locked on the mysterious device in the pale man’s hand. With growing dread, Din realized that the device had three wicked-looking metal prongs sticking out from the back side.

Before he could protest, Halcard rammed those prongs into your neck, sinking them deep into the column of muscle just below your ear.

You let out a single scream of pain, your knees buckling beneath you, the only thing keeping you on your feet the grip of the foreman’s hand on your jaw. A thin trickle of blood dripped down the side of your neck, soaking into the collar of your boilersuit.

The red was all Din could see.

Halcard watched, indifferent, as you regained your footing, and once you appeared more stable, he wrapped his fingers around the connector between your binder cuffs and tugged you toward the office door. “Come along now, pet. Our business is finished here,” he said. He offered Karga a single, stoic nod. “A pleasure to meet you, Magistrate.”

You were nearly out the door before the Mandalorian felt it was safe for to speak.

“Wait,” he called, stepping forward.

He could feel his Guild agent tense behind him. “Mando.” His deep voice, ordinarily so jovial, was hard with warning.

Din, however, paid him no heed. “How much to buy out her debt?” he asked.

Halcard froze in place, hauling you to a stop just inside the threshold of Karga’s office. Your head whipped around, and you stared at the bounty hunter, stunned.

Tense silence hung in the air for a moment until the pale man slowly, deliberately turned around to face the Mandalorian. “Excuse me?” he murmured, his jaw tight, his tone carefully cold.

Still, Din was undeterred. “Her debt,” he repeated, more confidently this time. “You say she owes you. And that her absence cost your business money. How much to pay it off?”

Halcard’s upper lip curled in a disdainful smirk. “More than you can afford, Mandalorian.”

“Mando…” Karga echoed, more insistent this time.

Again, Din ignored him, taking another step toward the door. Although he knew it couldn’t be seen by others, there was still satisfaction in the smirk he returned to the foreman beneath his helmet. “Try me,” he said.

Cocking his head, Halcard stroked his sharp, pale jaw in thought. It almost appeared as though he was giving the proposal true consideration. Din could swear that the whole room could hear how his heart raced in his chest as he tried not to get his hopes up. If Halcard cited a truly outrageous sum, or if he denied his proposal, there would be nothing left he could do to protect you.

After what felt like perhaps the longest minute of Din’s life, the other man finally spoke.

“25,000 credits,” he said, his smirk widening with triumph.

Clearly, however, Halcard had very little experience working with bounty hunters of the Mandalorian’s caliber.

“Done,” Din agreed instantly.

He watched as the man’s pale face dropped. “What?”

By his side, you were shaking your head furiously, your lips trembling. “No, Mando, please, you don’t have to – ”

Din met your gaze and raised a hand calm you. “It’s all right,” he assured you, making his voice as soothing and confident as he could manage. Reaching into his utility belt, the bounty hunter produced all seven tracking fobs from this hunt and dropped them onto the dumbfounded Karga’s desk. The metal components clattered on the polished surface but were otherwise silent, their beeping long since silenced. “Your men are unloading each of these as we speak,” he said, his gaze now directed at his Guild agent. “They will find all of them to be legitimate. I will take the payment now.”

Karga took a moment to study the tracking fobs, his wizened face, so purposefully neutral up until now, betraying his astonishment. Din knew that he was doing the math in his head, recalling which of his remaining bounties he had sent with Din and how much each of them were worth. Silently the bounty hunter prayed that his estimation of his payout was accurate. Din had never been one for academics, but when you made your living cashing in bounties, mental math was something you got a lot of practice with.

After a few more moments of fraught silence, Karga finally spoke. “Of course, my friend. 30,000 New Republic credits.” Taking a seat in his high-backed desk chair, the older man pulled out one of his desk drawers and laid his hand upon the print scanner lock atop the safe nestled inside. The safe clicked open, and Karga reached inside, pulling out three pouches made of deep purple cloth. “Yours,” he said, passing each of them to Din at a time.

The pouches had hardly been in his grasp for more than a handful of seconds before the Mandalorian sat one of them down on the surface of the desk. Carefully, wordlessly, he counted out 5,000 credits and tucked them into his utility belt. Then, he closed up the pouch, closed the distance between himself and Halcard, and extended all three bags to him.

“25,000 credits. Her debt is paid. You have been compensated for the absence of your…servant,” Din growled. “Now release the binders, and get that cortical tracking device off her.”

He watched with satisfaction as the arrogance melted off of the other man’s face. “You cannot be serious,” Halcard said through gritted teeth.

Din, however, did not deign to respond. He simply held the foreman’s gaze through his visor, the credits held out between them.

“Fine.” With a grimace, Halcard snatched the proffered pouches out of the air. “You want her that badly, she’s yours.” Hurriedly and with rough hands, he opened your binder cuffs, ripped the tracking device out of your neck, and thrust you toward Din. The Mandalorian caught you effortlessly and quickly gathered you behind him, putting himself between you and Halcard.

“Well. This has certainly been a…productive evening, gentlemen,” Karga said, clapping his hands together. “Master Halcard, if you are satisfied with this exchange, I will have my TC unit escort you back to your ship. I’m sure you’re a busy man. I wouldn’t want to hold you up any further.”

“Oh, yes. More than satisfied.” Halcard rolled the weighty pouches of credits around in his thin, wiry hands with a smile. “This is far more than that pathetic harpy is worth. This should fetch me…why, three replacement assets, at least.”

Din cocked his head at the foreman. “I’m sure the New Republic would be interested to hear that. I wonder what they would think…knowing their largest starship manufacturer is using slave labor in their hangars.”

For the first time, Halcard’s pale skin flared bright red, and he began to sputter indignantly, striding forward as though about to charge at the Mandalorian. “Now, you listen here – ”

“No, sir, I don’t think we will,” Karga interrupted, polite but firm. “Ah, TC-48. There you are.” The bronze protocol droid from the reception desk had pattered into the room behind Halcard, its posture expectant as it waited for orders. “Please escort Master Halcard back to his ship. And no detours, if you please. He’s on a tight schedule.”

“Gods damn you, Karga – ”  

“Of course, High Magistrate,” TC-48 said cheerfully. Taking ahold of Orron Halcard’s uniform sleeve, it ushered him inexorably toward the door. “If you would follow me, please sir.”

And Din Djarin watched with swelling satisfaction as the senior foreman of the Chardaan Shipyards was conducted, flushed and cursing, out of the office, down the hall, and into the city beyond.

[citylighten]

My Pietro and Sal gameplay have both been interesting and led to me having so many different headcanons. I’ve always struggled playing Fallout 4 because my main gripe is that I can’t recreate ANY oc want due to them having a set backstory and dialogue that reinforces certain plot things, but Pietro has a pretty good Sole Survivor AU. He's canon divergent though. More undercut!

-Pietro Impellizzeri was an notorious and powerful gangster Pre-War. He’s similar to Vito Corleone of The Godfather in the sense that he immigrated to America as a child and rose to the top of his community’s underworld.

-He had crossed paths with the human Nick Valentine on numerous occasions over ‘missing people’ as well as a ‘dirty money trail,’ but Pietro always knew how to throw the detective off. They were neither enemies nor friends, just merely people who kept a tense eye on one another.

-As a Boss, in terms of his conduct, Pietro was a composed, fair man but he was also known to be ruthless when the situation called for it. Outside of public events, he was seldom seen. If his men saw him it meant something bad was going to happen. Despite having such affluence and respect, Pietro's over-indulgence in the finest things (liquor, media, women) kept him blind to the things going wrong in his personal life.

-Pietro was married to Jasmine, who was a pinup model before marrying him. Their marriage was based on sex, possession and material interests. Ultimately, Pietro was a largely inattentive husband due to the demanding nature of keeping things afloat in his criminal empire.

-As a nuclear war approached, Jasmine began a series of affairs with men. Some powerful, some were Pietro’s enemies. Her wrongdoings ranged from supplying large sums of money to her lovers, to telling inside secrets. There came a moment, days before the bomb dropped, when Pietro (at his limit) considered murdering his wife. However, this did not come to be as the bombs fell over America.

-Needless to say, when Kellogg shoots Jasmine, Pietro feels guilt. Yes, he was plotting to murder her, but he knew that line of thinking wasn’t right. He doesn’t come into the Wasteland in the pursuit of being a better, kinder man, instead his decent actions come largely from the need to survive and understand the world he’s in.

Whereas Sal comes out Vault 111 ready to murder and massacre anyone in Eve’s name, Pietro’s mentality is: “I need to understand what civilization is like now. I need to know who is in charge of things.” Especially because since Pietro has been at the top for so long, it’s been years since he was doing dirty work for himself, let alone personally killing others on a continuous basis.

-When Pietro meets Nick Valentine there’s tension. But, they recognize they need each other to find Shaun, however there isn’t full trust between the men. Gradually, as the two spend more time together, Nick believes that Pietro can become a good man in this new world and often pushes the idea that Pietro is kind. Pietro does not believe himself to be kind, because he’s not burying the man he used to be before the bombs fell.

-There are times when Nick and Pietro split and his companions become MacCready, who reminds him of a lackey he would’ve used Pre-War, and Preston, who is yet another character who believes there’s an inner goodness in him. As a result of Preston and Nick - plus an envy for the mayor of Diamond City, Pietro decides to invest time in building the Minutemen and building settlements to lead. Despite possessing aspirations to lead, Pietro is shifting morally. Often, Nick helps him on Minutemen quests which strengthens their relationship.

-While helping settlements, Pietro meets Rosaria at Covenant. The woman is a secretary for Jacob Orden, the town’s mayor. Even when Pietro seems like he could be trouble for the settlement, she helps him learn more about the Amelia Stockton case with her insider information. After that, she leaves Covenant to affiliate herself with the Minutemen, which allows Pietro to see her more often. Time with Rosaria [who enjoys farming] has Pietro nostalgic about Sicily and as a consequence, he grows to enjoy things about nature as well as treasure the present he gets to spend with her.

-And that’s all for now because I haven’t completed his run yet 😘

[bayporwave]

Before the students left Rek, the rakii had been in the process of developing their own AI. At first they were gifted such intelligence by the students, providing washed-down copies of themselves to add to their tech and craft management. But when the need for more personalized AI and general curiosity arose, they went to work, using the student provided AI as a base or reference point. From there, three types of AI sprouted off these projects: • Student AI - Highly valuable, practical holy relics of what remains of the students. These are "purest" AI and are strictly held within Iot's control, only able to function off student tech. There are only 4 existing and 2 remain within the Idle Library. These AI are again, much more watered-down and while are fairly sentient they aren't 100% sapient.

• Hybrid or Steward AI - A mix between student and rakii coding. Since rakii couldn't exactly copy paste the student AI's themselves, what was given, they managed add on it. These AI were specialized and trained to understand the workings of rakii history, and language, while also being able to work on both student and rakii devices. They are still held under Iot control but with special permission, they can be granted to important government official or funded servers. These AI are a tad more self-aware, understanding their purpose and history just fine.

• Factotum AI - Completely rakii made and trained AI. With little to no student involvement, these AI are either standard algorithmic run assistants or commercially used for things like personal computers, phones, self-driven vehicles (mainly rail cars and public transit) or vending machines. Not ALL devices have AI of course, as the general public have a lot of mixed feelings towards, not such distain but prefer to be the only one in control of their tools. On the upside, they are heavily regulated and lack any possibility for self-awareness or sapience. The ones displayed here are two steward AI named Wyrr'Yoii (left) and Booror (right). Wyrr'Yoii is currently housed on the lunar settlement, Wubu maintaining life support and security, taking the avatar of a temperate. They were handed over to the rakii aerospace committee by Iot, which is heavily funded by the city for the investment of seeking out their missing gods. Wyrr'Yoii is described to be standardly monotone and critical, yet easy-going and understanding. They know exactly where their functionally lies and are always willing to lookout for the inhabitants within them. They have long-range communication with ground control, and furthest orbiting station in their system, "The Needle of Shwati" (A Wubu settler checking in with Wyrr'Yoii)

Booror, is housed within an arctic government building in the Shto Dominion hence taking an arctic avatar. Having accepted trading offers and territory with Iot, they were later granted a steward to keep purpose tabs and documents on community. Ensuring those higher up are up-to-date with any possible trading changes. Though the general public are often wary of this development as recently there has been a project in the works of providing AI with RC units, wanting to see how these AI can interact with the physical world. One unit being an elaborate success, however the reactions of many were generally, "It looks creepy." and it became more of an underground project. (Cartographer Wa'chaa "Quiibii" Iot, speaking with Saiba in their RC unit)

[gatheringbones]

[“The fact remains that the most effective long-term solutions to protecting and empowering victims of abuse are policy changes that would grant victims reliable access to health care, housing, livable income, paid sick leave, child care, and safety from criminalization. Yet bureaucratic impediments on the federal level, lack of leadership from Democrats as a serious “opposition party” against Republicans, and general inaction have stalled meaningful, nationwide, progressive economic legislation for decades. As a result, too many victims are forced to stay in dangerous, traumatizing relationships solely for economic reasons, in a country where poverty can be a death sentence, and those who experience poverty are disproportionately policed for “survival crimes”—what we call being punished by the state for its own failure to invest in community resources, and its reliance on commodifying and profiting off incarcerating the most vulnerable.

Despite how frequently cases of rape and domestic abuse are invoked to justify policing and prisons, women who are victims of abuse face more severe punishment for “enabling” child abuse, pregnancy loss, or even surviving abuse, broadly, than their abusers do. The many documented cases of this include Marshae Jones, a Black woman in Alabama who was jailed for fetal homicide in 2019 after miscarrying from being shot in the stomach. Sex workers who report being victimized are disbelieved and often criminalized by police officers themselves (a 2007 study found 44 percent of police officers said they were unlikely to believe a report of rape from a sex worker), while the rapes and sexual violence cases of Black and Indigenous women and girls are chronically ignored by police departments and media.

Victims of abuse with the least resources and social capital are more likely to face punishment than anything else when they seek help from authorities, rendering it more likely they would seek criminalized means to protect or provide for themselves. In too many documented cases that disproportionately implicate people of color, pregnant people are criminally charged for ostensibly endangering fetuses—for example, due to substance use struggles—and even prior to the overturning of Roe, for self-managed abortions. Many pregnant people have faced charges or incarceration for miscarriage or stillbirth, and even for harms inflicted on them while they were pregnant, like Marshae Jones.

This is in part because about forty states have feticide laws that were written with the intention of protecting pregnant people from domestic violence. It’s an important crisis to address, given how high homicide rates targeting pregnant people are. Yet all too often, feticide laws are co-opted and misused by anti-abortion activists and prosecutors to criminally charge pregnant people who lose their pregnancies. Misuse of fetal homicide laws has contributed to the nearly 1,300 criminal charges for pregnancy loss doled out between 2006 and 2020 alone—a number that’s tripled from 1973 to 2005, according to research from Pregnancy Justice. Let’s not forget that it’s police officers who are the primary enforcers of abortion bans, a role they’ve enthusiastically stepped into: In February 2022 the city of Louisville paid a police officer $75,000 in settlement fees almost a year after the officer was suspended for protesting outside a local abortion clinic while armed and in uniform. After being suspended with pay for almost half a year in 2021, the officer sued the city for supposedly violating his constitutional rights while off-duty and discriminating against him for his “pro-life” views. The incident is part of a long history of police officers either ignoring or enabling violent anti-abortion protesters at clinics, and apparently even joining protesters themselves.

Fetal homicide laws are just one example of legislation that accords unborn fetuses with legal personhood rights, resulting in extensive legal risks for pregnant people, and particularly those who experience abuse. Dana Sussman, deputy executive director of Pregnancy Justice, told me in 2022 that there’s “simply no way to grant fetuses ‘personhood rights’ without subjugating the rights of pregnant people by creating a false tension between the rights of the fetus and the rights of a pregnant person.” When a pregnant person’s “rights are secondary to the fetus, or at odds with the fetus, that lends to an environment in which violence—whether it’s state violence like imprisonment, or interpersonal violence—can be committed against pregnant people with far less accountability.”]

kylie cheung, from survivor injustice: state-sanctioned abuse, domestic violence, and the fight for bodily autonomy, 2023

[scrapbug93ar1]

SPAWN

Inhabitants: predominantly Vex hybrids and common

History:

Spawn, hence its name, is very commonly believed to be where all hybrid life originated a millennia ago. Spawn has the longest history of living life within its solar system and the planet itself holds a lot of importance in many cultures that span across the universe. Since Spawn holds the largest planetary population, its current inhabitants are in a constant political battle with a well-known and the most powerful faction at its helm. The Vindicators have an overbearing ruling over most of the planet's population.

Spawn has also been struggling with its own supply of resources. Its land had been mined and polluted, even before the hybrids that lived there had adapted to its crumbling environment. It is commonly believed that Spawn was facing increasingly hostile conditions that pushed hybrid ancestors to invest in space travel programs. Even though Spawns' condition has now been neutralized, the damage is clear and the scarring of the planet's decline remains, spread across its disjointed and busy land mass. Spawn also finds itself constantly orbited by ships, used as a hub for all different trade ports, or as a home base for smaller settlements with no planet to settle.

Reign / Ruler: Vindicators

Climate: General

Major trades: hub

Mayor city(s):

Vindicator head quarters (click for more info)

<<Return to universe map

[estravens-tits]

Ai the Exile

Over the course of The Left Hand of Darkness, Estraven makes enormous sacrifices for Gethen and for Genly. He gives up his comfort, his position in the Kyorremy, his country, and eventually his life. The entirety of The Left Hand of Darkness is about Estraven’s exile for Genly. But the reverse is true as well. Genly is also an exile. Here’s a look at the things Genly gave up for Gethen and for Estraven:

On Gethen

Moving to another culture is always difficult, but Genly has an especially rough time of it because of his complete immersion and lack of contact with anyone from his home culture. Here’s a few things that Genly probably struggled to adjust to.

First, language. We take it for granted that Genly knows Karhidish and Orgota, since it’s required for his job, but learning a language is a big investment. How long did it take Genly to learn 2 (or more) Gethenian languages to presumed fluency? Estraven is the only person who knows some of Genly’s native language and even then he just knows words, not enough to have a conversation. Which means that by the end of the book, Genly has not held a conversation in his native language for 3 years. As anyone who’s learned a language later in life can attest, it’s frustratingly isolating when your only way to communicate with people is through a non-native language. You don’t know the metaphors or the modern turns of phrase to use and feel like you cannot fully express yourself or that when you do your meaning is misconstrued. Genly himself is always second-guessing if the sayings Estraven quotes are actual Karhidish metaphors or just phrases he made up. As for the misunderstanding. Genly prominently misunderstands and is misunderstood for most of the book.

Second, culture. From the moment Genly arrives on Gethen, he lives fully immersed in Karhidish culture. While we are not exactly sure what his home culture on Terra is like, we know a few of the ways that Karhide differs. Genly makes note of Gethenians living in settlements of around 150 people, so he is probably used to living with many fewer people. He does not enjoy Gethenian food, finding it bland and lacking variety. He is dismayed by the slow pace of Karhidish business and innovation, slower than even the Ekumen which executes plans over several generations. These are all things that are huge stressors in a new environment: being around a lot of people, food that is not familiar or enjoyable, and a different pace of life. Adjusting to this new way of life is understandably time consuming and frustrating for Genly.

Third, being a sexual minority. A large part of the narrative of The Left Hand of Darkness centers around Genly coming to understand and accept the androgyny of the Gethenians. But the Gethenians also do not understand Genly. His sex is seen as either an oddity or an abomination, something either frowned upon or actively scorned. In both Karhide and Orgoreyn, Genly’s sexual deviancy is used to dismiss and discredit him. The Orgota commensals laugh at the idea of believing a Pervert. The Karhidish king recoils from the idea of a whole society of people like Genly. Genly has to constantly explain why he exists the way he is, and is often not believed. He is alone in his experience of sex and gender. Genly is often wrong in his assessments of Gethenians because of his refusal to let go of his own views on gender, which is partially a way to cope with his relatively new status as a sexual minority.

Fourth, the cold. Genly and is constantly freezing on Winter, even in the summer. Gethenian buildings, which lack heating, only make the cold worse for him. That kind of continual stress wears you down VERY quickly. When you are cold enough that the tips of your fingers and toes are numb and you are trying to do other tasks, it’s difficult to think about anything except how cold you are. I wouldn’t even be surprised if Genly owes some of the brusque despondency of his narration to the unrelenting misery of being chronically frozen.

All of these points paint a picture of Genly being someone who is off balance and lonely due to complete immersion in an alien culture he is still adjusting to. Add that to the fact that most of the people Genly interacts with don’t even believe that Genly IS from a different planet. To them he is a socially inept and sexually deviant Karhider rather than an alien doing his best to understand their culture. By living on Gethen, Genly voluntarily gives up his comfort (both mental and physical) and any sense of belonging.

Before Gethen

The above section looks at Genly’s experience on Gethen. Next we’ll look at what he gave up before arriving on Gethen.

It took Genly 87 years to travel to Gethen. Though relativity makes this only a few years for Genly, it is still 87 years for everyone else around him. As Estraven says “While he lived a few hours in one of those unimaginable ships going from one planet to another, everyone he had left behind him at home grew old and died, and their children grew old.” By the time Genly gets to Gethen, everyone he knew is dead. He is profoundly alone.

It’s not just the people Genly knew that are dead, but also his culture. If Genly ever went back to Terra, over 170 years would have passed since he left. A lot can change in that time. How much does our generation have in common with people from the 1800s? Whatever life, places, and belief system Genly grew up with probably don’t exist anymore.

By going to Gethen, Genly knowingly consigned himself to being not only an alien cut off from his own people, but the last remnant of a culture that no longer exists. An exile with no chance of returning home.

The Perils of the Job

While Genly does live through the events of The Left Hand of Darkness, he probably wasn’t expecting to.

Genly remarks that First Envoys on other worlds are often killed and sometimes imprisoned. Which means that he knows that he has a high chance of dying himself.

Other indications of the permanence of Genly’s mission come in Chapter 5 when Genly notes that his beard was removed permanently so that he could better fit in with the Gethenians and in Chapter 3, Genly says that his entire life “could be, and might as well be used in achieving [his] mission for the Ekumen.”

Genly’s disregard for his own life is shown in his willingness to block his own routes of escape. The ship that he came on lies disassembled in Karhide, something which Genly allowed to happen shortly after he arrived. Because of this, he has no means to return to the larger ship in orbit. He also eventually gives his ansible, his only means of communication with the Ekumen, to the Orgota. Genly has no way to escape Gethen, no plans to leave, and no way to protect himself.

All indications that Genly expects to die. By becoming First Envoy, he preemptively gives up his own life.

Choosing Exile

Estraven first comes up against the consequences of his own exile from Karhide in Chapter 6. After being asked about living in Orgoreyn permanently he muses “The joke was gone out of it with that word permanent, a skull-word if there ever was one.” Never being able to return to his own country terrifies him.

Genly’s own ultimatum came long before The Left Hand of Darkness began, when he left Terra knowing that everyone he knew would be dead if he ever returned. By the time we meet Genly he is already living with a permanent lost century of distance between Terra and Gethen and has spent years in self-imposed exile.

One of my favorite quotes in The Left Hand of Darkness comes when Genly is having a conversation with Asra in Pulefen Farm. Asra is talking about the Yomeshta afterlife where adherents are sent to different planets as reward or punishment. Genly asks what type of planet Gethen is. Neither, Asra responds. Gethen can be neither reward nor punishment because no one chooses to live on Gethen, they are just born on it. “I wasn’t born into it,” says Genly. “I came here. I chose it.”

This is the truth at the heart of Genly’s character. That he chose exile just as Estraven did. It is not an accident that Genly talks about choice while he is dying in Pulefen Farm. He chose to be First Envoy and with it chose the strong possibility of imprisonment and death. He chose the loneliness of being an alien on Gethen, without anyone who understands his language, culture, or even his gender. He chose to live in permanent cold. Genly Ai chose life on Gethen fully knowing how painful it would be.

[lovepmd]

Reviver Seeds cost around eight hundred poké. At least in the earlier games as far as I can remember, but that’s crazy expensive compared to twenty-five to fifty Oran Berries.

I think it’s been understated how broken being able to have your own Seed and Berry farms can be. Even if the yield takes a few days, that’s still very soon compared to any plant in real life. So—Hero who no doubt tries to grow their own supplies to go dungeon diving would have a decent stake in the item market. Regardless of if they aren’t Gates or Multi!Hero, I could see many of the humans having very formidable operations.

And this comes out of nowhere for the nearby settlements. Hero hides their operations in the Team Camps because it’s easier to hide and defend, or for Super’s sake, underground gardens. Or they use hydroponics.

omg

hero growing their own farms, outside of gates, is BIG in the other games

and even in gates, they invest a lot of time and energy in making sure those fields are GOOD

once they figure out how to make it work in each game, it's over

[bluegekk0]

Ik this question is like WAY ahead of the current timeline, but once the kids grow up to be adults will some of them have aspirations that lie outside of dirt mouth or even hollownest? Maybe some want to study abroad, help out other settlements, or simply just explore the world by themselves and become independent? Or maybe some are just fine chilling in dirt mouth. Very outlandish question in terms of timeline but I think a very important one when it comes to their character.

I haven't really thought about that before, it's one of those veeeery distant scenarios that I just don't really consider. But I do see them all staying in Hallownest, I don't think there would be anything outside that would call to them specifically and make them want to move out. At most, I imagine they would get their own houses in Dirtmouth or nearby, with maybe the exception of Milo which I'll mention later.

That said, I definitely think Asta would enjoy traveling with Grimm, I think she would share his old passion for seeing the world and experiencing new things. I can see her reaching the destination and just exploring everything while Grimm and the Troupe handle their business. But I don't think she would want to live outside of the borders, the familiar connection is very important to her, and considering their world doesn't have phones or video calls, it would be a much more drastic change than what she could experience in our modern times. Not to mention, the area outside of the borders is known to be very dangerous, so I don't see her traveling on her own. But the moment Grimm starts packing to leave for a performance tour or a ritual, she would always be there and ready, with a full backpack and excitement painted on her face.

Milo would not want to leave Dirtmouth, I think he would be happy staying close to his parents. After all, he does need their care, and I do think he would need it even as an adult. I can't imagine him living far away on his own, and I think he wouldn't either. He would be content spending his adulthood helping Vyrm in his workshop, I could see them expanding the business together, and I think Milo would be happy with that kind of life. If he ever decides to travel with Grimm, it would be to learn more things about his skill of choice, I don't think he would care much about traveling for the sake of it (I definitely think he would get homesick very fast, and I see him finding traveling in general to be overwhelming). Sure, maybe at times he would be jealous of his more confident and capable sister who isn't as scared of traveling, but I think he would ultimately find the close proximity to his parents to be comforting, and I think he would be happy staying with them.

For Lewk it wouldn't be the desire to stay close to his family as much as that he would simply grow very invested in Dirtmouth. He already shows a lot of interest in all of its matters, and I can imagine him growing to be a very important figure for the town. I think just like Asta he would like traveling with his father, but mostly for the purpose of learning more things about how towns and cities work, gathering resources and making connections. He'd definitely be the most social of the kids, with a very clear fixation on the town he was born in. Perhaps at some point he would study abroad, but he would eventually return home and stay there after finishing his education.