#ocdining

[kamreadsandrecs]

Forget that their name is Marcos. Forget that their name is Duterte. Forget that their name is Aquino. Duterte the First begat Duterte the Second. Aquino the Second begat Aquino the Third. Marcos the First begat Marcos the Second begat Marcos the Third, presidents begetting presidents, begetting vice presidents, rotating and revolving and rotating again. Their names live in airports and amphitheaters, on paper bills and street signs, along the highways where the corpses are still being found. Forget the names of their sons and daughters and remember their dead instead. Remember Djastin, Djastin with a D, not Justin or Justine, Djastin, with a D, the D chosen to make him special, Djastin with a D, whose mother used to carry him to the hospital through the knee-high floods whenever he trembled and seized, Djastin with a D, whose name police misspelled on the report that lied about his death, Djastin with a D, the D silent, as Djastin would always be, always twenty-five, always there on the railroad tracks, shot then slapped, then shot again, gasping out Mama, help me Mama please. Remember all the children we cannot name. Remember the father whose last word was Love. We are Duterte, said the man with the gun. Remember these names: Constantino de Juan, father of Christine, dead on a blue couch with the bullet buried in the cushion. Buwaya of Santa Ana, born Ryan Eder. Remember Heart, Kian, Toyo, Joseph, JC, Antonio, Pinuno, Sitoy with his hanging grenades. Remember Charlie Saladaga, sitting in a park with his face to the sky, watching the fireworks on New Year’s Eve, the day before he disappeared. Remember this name: Mark Andy Ocdin, the last of Duterte’s dead, killed on the last Sunday of Rodrigo Duterte’s presidency, on the same railroad tracks where Djastin dies and lives and dies again whenever Normy Lopez closes her eyes. Mark Andy Ocdin is the third of his brothers to die in the war, jailed on drug charges and set free before men wearing masks shot him in the gut. Andy ran down a narrow alley, where he fell into the arms of a woman who opened a door and dragged him in. By the time Andy was killed, shot six times just down the street from his grandmother’s house, the Ocdins knew which hospital was equipped for gunshot wounds, even if none of the Ocdin boys ever came out of the emergency room alive. They knew not to push when the police refused to release an official report and knew to double down for the death certificate because the church sent burial assistance only when the back page was filled out with a cause of death. (It was multiple gunshot wounds for Andy, the same as for JR, just two years after Anthony was found salvaged with his fingernails ripped out.)

from Some People Need Killing: A Memoir of Murder in My Country, by Patricia Evangelista

[kammartinez]

Forget that their name is Marcos. Forget that their name is Duterte. Forget that their name is Aquino. Duterte the First begat Duterte the Second. Aquino the Second begat Aquino the Third. Marcos the First begat Marcos the Second begat Marcos the Third, presidents begetting presidents, begetting vice presidents, rotating and revolving and rotating again. Their names live in airports and amphitheaters, on paper bills and street signs, along the highways where the corpses are still being found. Forget the names of their sons and daughters and remember their dead instead. Remember Djastin, Djastin with a D, not Justin or Justine, Djastin, with a D, the D chosen to make him special, Djastin with a D, whose mother used to carry him to the hospital through the knee-high floods whenever he trembled and seized, Djastin with a D, whose name police misspelled on the report that lied about his death, Djastin with a D, the D silent, as Djastin would always be, always twenty-five, always there on the railroad tracks, shot then slapped, then shot again, gasping out Mama, help me Mama please. Remember all the children we cannot name. Remember the father whose last word was Love. We are Duterte, said the man with the gun. Remember these names: Constantino de Juan, father of Christine, dead on a blue couch with the bullet buried in the cushion. Buwaya of Santa Ana, born Ryan Eder. Remember Heart, Kian, Toyo, Joseph, JC, Antonio, Pinuno, Sitoy with his hanging grenades. Remember Charlie Saladaga, sitting in a park with his face to the sky, watching the fireworks on New Year’s Eve, the day before he disappeared. Remember this name: Mark Andy Ocdin, the last of Duterte’s dead, killed on the last Sunday of Rodrigo Duterte’s presidency, on the same railroad tracks where Djastin dies and lives and dies again whenever Normy Lopez closes her eyes. Mark Andy Ocdin is the third of his brothers to die in the war, jailed on drug charges and set free before men wearing masks shot him in the gut. Andy ran down a narrow alley, where he fell into the arms of a woman who opened a door and dragged him in. By the time Andy was killed, shot six times just down the street from his grandmother’s house, the Ocdins knew which hospital was equipped for gunshot wounds, even if none of the Ocdin boys ever came out of the emergency room alive. They knew not to push when the police refused to release an official report and knew to double down for the death certificate because the church sent burial assistance only when the back page was filled out with a cause of death. (It was multiple gunshot wounds for Andy, the same as for JR, just two years after Anthony was found salvaged with his fingernails ripped out.)

from Some People Need Killing: A Memoir of Murder in My Country, by Patricia Evangelista

[elmbrook-psychiatry]

Here is a sneak peak into our upcoming #selfcare sessions! We will be bring the mental health content, and the next step is for you to start taking charge and trying new things! We can’t wait to share it with you. #ocd #ocdrawing #ocdproblems #OCDawareness #ocdclean #ocdrecovery #ocdogs #ocdranch #ocdivers #ocdetailing #ocdp #ocdesign #ocdoodle #ocdvocate #ocdbh #ocdraw #ocdfinish #ocdog #OcDesignz #ocdining #ocdate #ocdj #ocdjs #ocdesigner #ocdworks #ocdlippy #ocdispensary #ocdwarrior #ocddiet #ocdoghousehotel #ocd (at Brookfield, Wisconsin) https://www.instagram.com/p/Crbr9_dvVg8/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[coreychick]

Chapter 1: Found

Part of the In the Dark Series: 18+ Smut & Story /

 Din X Fem Reader Insert

 / Next Chapter / All Chapters

For the hundredth time in as many hours, you wondered to yourself how many clean breaths you had left in your lungs before this bunker began to fill with a noxious carbon dioxide gas of your own making. As far as deaths go, you could imagine a lot worse. Yeah, slowly drifting off to sleep and just not waking up, well it sucked for sure, but at least you figured it would be painless.

Yes, definitely the way to go, especially considering the other possibilities.

Scenario two, the more likely script you imagined, was starvation. At first you had refused to eat the steady diet of gruel they were determined to feed you, pushing the bowl away every time it was presented to you. You simply could not bring yourself to eat something that was largely still moving around in the bowl. That was, until they stopped bringing food altogether.

After two more days of not eating you decided to bite the bullet. The last bowl of slop had finally stopped moving the day before, meaning that whatever had been swimming around in there was surely dead now, right? Somehow that thought provided little comfort. You had managed to swallow a single spoonful before your stomach rebelled and you ended up heaving whatever it was into the waste bucket they had so generously provided you with. Thank the stars you had been rationing your water and had enough to rinse your mouth out. To die with that foul taste still lingering on your tongue would be it’s own slow torture.

You didn’t think it was actually physically possible to die of boredom, but if it were, it would be a solid contender in the running. Awfully, sadly, your little five by five hole in the ground wasn’t equipped with entertainment. No datapads, no hologames, no screens of any kind. What you wouldn’t give for a book- something, just anything to distract you. Not that you’d be able to read a book though. Aside from your handy-dandy waste bucket in the corner and your untouched food bowl, your current residence was completely devoid of anything- including light.

You were in the dark. A blackness so thick it felt as if it was slowly swallowing you whole. Complete and utter lack of light. You’d scratch a tally on the wall to mark another day in captivity, but you couldn’t see the marks on the walls anyway and without light, you had no sense of how much time was actually passing by in the world above. It could have been days or even weeks at this point. Can a person die from lack of sunlight? You think maybe they can and wonder how long that might take.

Where did they go? Are they coming back at all? Did they leave me here to die? These are your latest thoughts as you wrap your arms around the underside of your thighs- hugging yourself, and lean your head over to rest on your knees. You close your eyes again and try to go to your happy place. You imagine what the sun feels like, when you step out from the cover of a shady tree and the warmth hits your flesh- the way you’d tilt your head up and let the rays soak into your skin. What would it sound like there? Maker, don’t forget the sounds. Cool running water, perhaps a stream nearby…...a wayward breeze fluttering crispy leaves across the ground….a local aves species known for its cheerful song singing a chorus in the branches above… beep…....beep….….beep.

Beep……...Beep.

Your eyes flutter back open but fail to focus on anything in the still present darkness. The whisper of a beep…….beep… sound rapidly pulls your drifting mind back into focus. You hold your breath trying harder to listen for the new sound. Beep……..Beep. The sound is slowly getting louder and now you can hear that it is accompanied by footsteps. These aren’t the clumsy footsteps you’ve grown used to hearing during your internment. These sound much...heavier? Yes, heavy footfalls with the slightest echo of a metal ting followed by each step. Your mind begins to race. Panic induces. What to do? You fight the urge to yell and scream, “Hey! Help! I’m in here!”. You had tried that several times in the days before and what followed was a prying open of the hatch above followed by an irritated captor jabbing you with an extended electric prod.

No. No. You had to try. You have gone over the plan in your head a million times. The next time they open the hatch, you’ll feign obedience- anything just to have them pull you out. Once you are out of the hole, you’ll snatch the prodder out of the nearest raider’s hand and hit him where it hurts- then run like hell. In all honestly you know it has a .1% chance of working, but you’d rather die putting up a fight above ground than spend another moment in this pit.

The footsteps are heavier now, coming to rest above the hatch. This is it. You get to your feet and prepare to take a stance. You resolve to call out, but...nothing happens. Your voice doesn’t work. You’ve been waiting days for this chance and now the fear has robbed you of breath. No sound escapes you, you’re completely frozen in place.

  What if they leave and never come back? 

This pit is your tomb. You must get out of this hole. This may be your last chance.

Horrified at your own thoughts, you step back, your heel clunking into the food bowl, the sound of it unmistakable to ears above. The being overhead shifts their weight, a dusting of debris falling loose from above and the sound of a rug being dragged back proceeds. The faintest sliver of light peeks through the crack in the floor above. Your heart is racing. 

Snap out of it and get ready to spring if he tries to greet you with another one of those fucking prodders.

A click...and you realize you no longer hear the beeping sound. The wail of the creaking hinge makes your heart nearly jump out of your chest as the hatch is thrown back. Blinding light floods in, rendering your sight useless. You hadn’t taken into account your eyes’ inability to focus after such a long period in the dark. You squeeze them shut involuntarily, unable to process the brightness. Hoping you’ll be out of reach from the inevitable prod headed your way, you shrink down into the corner and cover your eyes... waiting for the burning zap of electricity you’ve come to anticipate. It doesn’t come. Slowly, oh so slowly, you squint through splayed fingers, half heartedly shielding you from the eye-piercing light above, and see a suit of Mandalorian armor standing above you.

So a Mandalorian certainly isn’t what you were expecting. Your eyes, still unable to focus- you slowly lower your hands, and it appears you aren’t what he was expecting either. You're apprehensive. He’s massive and intimidating for sure, especially when he is up there and you are down here. He stares at you for a moment, his head tilting slightly as he takes in the scene, then bends down to extend his hand to you.

There’s no prodder in sight and you quickly decide that a scary Mandalorian is much better than an angry raider. After all, the goal here is to get out of the hole and this is your chance. You lock onto his forearm and his grip tightens on yours as he swiftly yanks you up and out of the pit as if you weigh nothing.

Nothing like the captivity diet to get me back into my pre-Life Day pants.

He sets you on your feet and you continue holding on to him for balance. Your equilibrium is off and you’re sure you’ll faceplant if you let go. He seems to understand your predicament and maneuvers you over to a short round bench of some sort. 

“Sit, get your bearings,”comes a low modulated voice- surprisingly pleasant. You continue to squint, hovering your hands over your forehead like a brim to combat the light sensitivity still plaguing you.

The Mandalorian, seems to understand and walks over to the hallowed out window and pulls the shutters closed. Your eyes can rest a little more with the instant dimming effect. Turning back to face you again, that oddly soothing modulated voice sends a shiver down your back.

“Are you ok?” he asks, removing a small canteen from his belt, untwisting the top and handing it over to you. You eagerly accept, somehow forgetting that the plan was to sprint the second you were out of the Maker forsaken hole. The water isn’t even cold but damn- it’s clean and it feels heavenly coating your dry mouth and throat. You spend full moments gulping down all that you can before coming up for air and gasping. You wipe the lost stream that dribbled down your chin with the back of your hand.

“That depends….where are they?” you ask, wondering where all your robed captors with their prodding guns are.

He only offers a simple one word answer, “dead.”

And all you can offer back is one in return, “good.”

You both take a moment, considering your situation as you remain sitting and he begins pacing. You’ve never seen a Mandalorian before. You have heard the tales of course, myths of the galaxy’s most fearsome men and women. Looking at the one before you, you immediately decide they might actually be true. He is intimidating, scary even with his build and armor. He has weapons strapped all over his body, imposing weapons- you can only imagine what they might do. And his armor looks like it’s seen a great deal of use. Parts of it are painted differently, looking as if it’s been pieced together over time. All of it is dull, dented and chipped in places- he obviously sees a lot of action. Only his helmet appears to have any shine left to it.

You had heard that many Mandalorians took up bounty hunting after the fall of Mandalore. Is this one a hunter? It would make sense. You have no doubt your captors are wanted by someone, somewhere- probably kidnapped the wrong general’s daughter or something. Sitting alone in the dark these past days or weeks -who knew?- , you’d often wondered if the raiders that took you were looking for slaves, entertainment or ransoms. You’d smile in contempt, laughing on the inside knowing that you’d satisfy none of those objectives for them. You lacked general obedience, you’d die before being a sex slave and there’d be no one out there looking for you, let alone be willing to pay a ransom.

“Are you a bounty hunter?”

“Yes.”

“I hope you found the one you were looking for.”

It takes a beat, but then he responds with “I did.”

Clearly he is a man of few words, which is fine by you. Whoever he is, it seems you currently share a common enemy, one he seems to have dispatched for you. Looking around the makeshift hut, it dawns on you that your situation is still completely fucked. You’re out of the hole- thank the Maker for that- But you’re still in a heaping pile of a dewback shit situation.

“Look, I dunno where I am, how many of those guys might still be out there, or if more are coming back….I can’t pay you right now, but I would be in your debt if you could get me back to civilization...just wherever the nearest spaceport is.”

He stops his pacing and seems to consider your request.

“I WILL pay you...I’ll get the credits to you as soon as I can.” you continue…”and I won’t get in the way...of your job.”

He remains silent for another moment and you’re suddenly terrified that this guy won't help you and you’ll be on your own to figure out a way out of here.

Where even, is here?

“How soon do you think you can ride?”

Relief floods your veins. “I’m ready right now, let’s get the fuck out of here.” you say, not bothering with polite speech after the ordeal you’ve just had.

“Wait, did you say ride?”

“Yes, I have a blurrg harnessed in the canyon above.”

A blurrg? Maker almighty- he took a blurrg to get out here?

Just how far out are we?

You were unconscious for the duration of the trip and now you’re starting to be glad for it.

“That’s fine,” you say standing up again. This time the world isn’t spinning nearly as much. You go to hand him his canteen back, but he shakes his head no and insists you keep it.

Hand on his blaster, he moves the curtain to peek outside. “We best get moving then.” He takes the lead with cautious steps outside as you exit the door behind him. Again you hear the slightest echo of a ting hitched to every step he takes, only now you know that the sound you were hearing before was the sound of reverberating beskar.

Stepping into the outside daylight burns your sensitive eyes, but the fresh air is much appreciated. Seems like maybe midday if you were to guess.

A few feet off to the left is one of the raiders laying on the ground. His body is lifeless, though he’s still clutching his favorite prodder in his right hand. You don’t miss the opportunity to give his ribs a swift kick as you pass by. Mando just watches silently as you take a moment to offload some serious pent up anger towards the creep. He doesn’t interfere, just let’s you reap your satisfaction which unfortunately comes to an end after about ten kicks or so. On any given day you’d do a lot worse, but the truth is your energy is zapped and you just don’t have the strength. Already the jaunt up the canyon to the waiting bantha sounds like a marathon to you.

“I don’t suppose you spotted a fresher on your way in?” you ask hopefully.

“There’s a trough around the back.”

“That’ll do, can we spare a moment?”

He nods yes and waits there while you head around to the back. Sure enough there is a trough, just large enough for a blurrg to drink from. Sure the water is stagnant and not at all fit for drinking, but it’s water and out here it may as well be liquid gold. You dip your hands in and slosh the sweet moisture up and down your arms rinsing away the dirt and grime of your ordeal. You wipe at your neck and dutifully douse your underarms as best you can. You save your face for last and decide against wetting your hair. You made a promise to yourself that the first chance you got, you were finding a real bathtub, filling it to the brim with hot water and soaking for a week, maybe two. When you're done, you don’t consider yourself clean by any means, but the worst of it is gone. You only hope for Mando’s sake that that visor of his prevents him from having to smell you, ugh.

Finished with your refresh, you take a moment to tilt your head up to the midday sky. You close your still sensitive eyes and bask in the warmth of the sun on your face. The subtle heat warms your cheeks and you smile. You survived. You did not die in the hole, buried in the dark all alone. You will never take for granted a single ray of light again.

“We should get moving.” that slow rolling baritone voice says. You nod in agreement and turn to find the Mandalorian who pulled you out of the hole staring down at you.

/ Next Chapter / All Chapters

[pinkymindfamily-blog]

I have OCD (Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder), but in a relatively mild and unharmful way. The worst part for me, if you can call it the anguish it causes me in wanting to stop doing these things like counting everything in site. But OCD comes in many forms and for some people like, excessive hand washing - to the point of making her hands red raw or obsessive worrying about contamination or obsessively placing objects so as not to contaminate other things or touching clothes in a repeated routine over and over etc, it’s a nightmare. It's intrusive thoughts and troubling concepts that enter in mind and go 'round and 'round. It's so distressing, it can be very damaging to you and your family if your rituals are affecting them, so If you act rationally, despite how you are feeling, your beliefs and emotions will follow behind. https://pinkymind.com/blog.html for more articles. Download Pinkymind app by clicking on below link to talk to our counselor:  http://onelink.to/t6eu5e  #ocdrawing #ocdproblems #OCDawareness #ocdclean #ocdrecovery #ocdogs #ocdranch #ocdivers #ocdetailing #ocdp #ocdesign #ocdoodle #ocdvocate #ocdbh #ocdraw #ocdfinish #ocdog #OcDesignz #ocdining #ocdate #ocdj #ocdjs #ocdesigner #ocdworks #ocdlippy #ocdispensary #ocdwarrior #ocddiet #ocdoghousehotel https://www.instagram.com/p/ByncvYtg8zj/?igshid=exshpcaxed8c

[chefseyephotography]

After a very long day of meetings and such, we all deserve this.🍷🧀 Repost, @twentyeightoc Cheese. Wine. Charcuterie... a great way to start the week. ——- • • • #twentyeightoc #wineandcheese #charcuterieboard #cheeseandwine #irvine #newportbeach #ocfood #oceats #ocfoodie #ocdining #ocrestaurants #buzzfeedfood #eeeeeats #forkyeah #eater #bestfoodworld #phaat #foooodieee #buzzfeast #igfood #laeats #eaterla #buzzfeast #9gagnomnom #socaleats #insiderfood (at Washington, District of Columbia) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bw2-Pp8hais/?igshid=11v0dloiktzbu

[theultimatefoodiediary]

Posted @withrepost • @rockincrawfishoc Rockin’ Seafood Combo! 🦐🦀 Buy 3 lbs and get 1 lb FREE! Follow and tag us @rockincrawfish. We're also on Facebook @ Rockin Crawfish Oc.⠀ -----⠀ *⠀ #rockincrawfish #cajunfood #cajun #seafood #kingcrablegs #crablegs #cajunsrhimp #seafoodboil #ocfood #oceats #ocfoodie #ocdining #ocrestaurants #buzzfeedfood #eeeeeats #foodbeast #forkyeah #eater #bestfoodworld #phaat #foooodieee #buzzfeast #igfood #feastonthese #laeats #eaterla #buzzfeast #9gagnomnom #socaleats #insiderfood https://www.instagram.com/p/BwMnV5jlTWl/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1itsp3ztcktrj

[chw131]

Repost @occomestibles - Happy Lunar New Year!🧧 So glad we had the time to check out @furiwa dim sum pop up at @twentyeightoc today. Tomorrow is the last day so enjoy while they’re there.🥟🎊 On the table: the soft shell crab bun, shu mai (chicken), chicken feet, beef tripe, hargow, scallion pancake, turnip cake, Chinese broccoli, char siu bun, soup dumplings, and rice noodle roll (shrimp).😍 ——- * * * #lunarnewyear #yearofthepig #dimsum #chickenfeet #shumai #hargow #newportbeach #dimsumpopup #orangecountyca #tastethisnext #ocfood #oceats #ocfoodie #occomestibles #ocdining #ocrestaurants #buzzfeedfood #eeeeeats #foodbeast #forkyeah #zagat #ourplatesdaily #eater #bestfoodworld #phaat #foooodieee #buzzfeast #igfood #feastonthese #restauranteating https://www.instagram.com/p/BtpflZ0gC0J/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=qw43zi8cv4um

[puckdevil8]

Supper time Southern California style. #ilovetoeat #foodpornshare #foodporn #foodgasm #foodies #foodlover #foodcoma #foodlovers #foodisfuel #foodpic #foodstagram #goodfood #GooniesNeverSayDie #instafood #nomnom #nomnomnom #ocdining #OCfoodfare #OrangeCounty #yelpelite #eatersanonymous #thesimplydelicious #thatisall (at In-N-Out Burger)

[balletfolkloricoleyenda]

My husband took me out to dinner. Arrive with mask, be seated 6 feet apart of other tables. Take mask off to Eat. (Or take pix) 😊 is our way to support the small local businesses who been affected like we both have. We are ALL in this together. We are ALL interconnected as community. In a weird twist this year has BROUGHT US TOGETHER all. Choose unity. Don’t let your heart harbor upset thoughts or ideas. Shift always toward the hope, kindness, the will to work it out no matter how you must innovate anything that comes your way. 😊😊💐💐🤗🤗 . . . . . . . . . . . . #pizzatime #pizzarestaurant #balboaisland #balboapeninsula #ocdinning #pizzafortwo #husbandandwife #husbandwife #husbandandwifetime #outdoordinning #supportlocalbusiness #supportlocalrestaurants #supportsmallbusinesses #staylocal #workitout #choosekindness #positivity #hope #hopeforthefuture #hopeful (at Ciao Italian Restaurant) https://www.instagram.com/p/CCbRMucsTB-S6IXe01QboTVMfMlySdlVdPJIAw0/?igshid=ygtdnx562i6b

[amandzel-ward]

When your husband asks a #planneraddict for a list of what's got to be done around the house watch out. #todolists are so fun to jazz up with a few stickers to emphasize exactly what's got to get done #ocdining #plannerjunkie @the_happy_planner @staedtlernorthamerica my favorite pen ( currently ) #thisishowwedoit #plannerlife #theplannerclub #plannercommunity #plannernetwork (at Sanborn, New York)

[littlefiggyfood]

via Twitter https://twitter.com/LittleFiggyFood

[coreychick]

Chapter 2: The Journey Back

Part of the In the Dark Series: 18+ Smut & Story / 

Din X Fem Reader Insert

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / All Chapters

The thing about blurrgs is, they aren’t very practical for more than one rider. It doesn’t have a saddle per se, but rather a harness that bookended the rider, preventing them from slipping forward or back. At first, you had offered to just walk, but Mando- as you’ve taken to calling him in your head- had assured you that you’d both want to rely on the blurrg to traverse the crevice flats at the top of the canyon. So, he had dutifully cut off the back end of the harness to allow room for you as well.

You had started off the ride in a fruitless effort to maintain distance between your body and Mando’s. You thought maybe you’d be able to balance yourself without actually having to hold on to anything but quickly found it was impossible. Although the blurrg moved at a smooth pace, the jolt with every step would send you sliding down the backside if you didn’t keep a grasp on the Mandalorian’s waist. You were slightly embarrassed to have to do so- until reaching the crevice flats. The landscape ahead was divided into parcels of fifteen to twenty feet with wide gaps between them. You had made the mistake of looking down into one of the gaps as the blurrg nimbly jumped over. What you thought might be a shallow trench was actually a chasm so deep the bottom faded into nothingness. The idea of trying to traverse those gaps on foot instantly made you dizzy.

Mando must have sensed your apprehension because he grabbed your left hand and pulled it further around, tightening your lock on him. He left his hand over yours and gave it a little pat of reassurance.

“Don’t look down... it'll be over soon.” he said- and for some reason you found his modulated voice to be comforting.

He was right. That section of the terrain didn’t last too long and you were thankful when he patted you on the hand again and said, “ You can open your eyes now.”

How did he know I had them squeezed shut the whole time?

“I wasn’t scared, my eyes are just really sensitive to the light right now.” you offer in a playful tone- trying to ease the awkwardness of the situation.

“Mmm.” was his modulated response.

You loosen your grip a little and tried to scooch back a bit, again to no avail. Although you are no longer holding on to him for dear life, gravity is not your friend. You try for several minutes to find a comfortable position, but you are either sliding off the blurrg’s back or sliding down into the Mandalorian. Every step the blurrg takes jostles you forward so that your chest is pressed up against him. You are essentially the big spoon to his little spoon and there is nothing you can do about it. You give up trying to adjust your position and accept that this will be your position for the duration of the journey. If Mando is annoyed or put out by the contact, he thankfully doesn’t show it.

You decide to make light of the awkward situation.

“Were you planning to ride all the way back with your bounty like this?”

“Hmm?” he asks.

You chuckle lightly, “It’s just...it’s kind of funny you know, picturing you...riding back with one of those guys pressed up against you like this?”

For a moment you think he might not say anything. Maybe Mandalorians didn’t have a sense of humor. Probably all ‘honor and duty’ all the time. But finally, he responds, “Hmm. Guess I hadn’t thought about it.”

Interesting.

“Speaking of, don’t you need the body?” you ask curiously- not entirely sure of the ins and outs on bounty hunting.

He takes another moment to answer and you wonder if he always considers what he says so carefully before speaking or if he just isn’t used to talking to people in general.

“This quarry needs to be delivered alive, a dead body is no use to me.”

You think about that for a moment. The idea that certain bounties don’t need to be delivered alive is unnerving- having to lug one back with you. And then a part of you feels bad that he traveled all the way out into the middle of nowhere only to come up empty handed. Hazard of the job you suppose.

“Then...why did you kill them?”

“Didn’t.” he said, and that makes your eyebrows raise.

“You didn’t?, then who did?”

“Looked like maybe they killed each other before I got there.”

Your brain is scrambling. “But why would they do that?”

“Don’t know...wasn’t there.” OK, so he does have a sense of humor, you think rolling your eyes.

It makes sense though- why they had stopped checking on you a few days ago- why they stopped bringing food. You think about what might have happened if the Mandalorian hadn’t showed up and had the instinct to move that rug and open the hatch. Your whole body shivers at the thought. Mando must feel it with your body pressed up against his back.

“How’d you end up in there?” He asks, probably guessing where your thoughts had gone too.

“Bad luck I guess.” -you shrug- “I think they might have followed me, saw I was on my own…..though I’m usually careful, I didn’t think I was being followed...but they must have. Came in during the night, zapped me with one of those paralyzers and I blacked out. When I came to, I was in the hole.”

“You’re on your own, out here?”

“It’s not that bad, normally I can handle myself just fine,  and a lot of the outer rim is actually peaceful, just folks looking for calm you know? This was just...one of those times I guess.”

He doesn’t say anything to that.

You suppose now is as good a time as any. You owed this man a thank you for most likely saving your life, even if all he had done was open the hatch.

“Thank you, by the way. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

Again, he doesn’t say anything, but for the first time in the hours you have been traveling, he shifts uncomfortably.

You continue traveling in silence after that.

Several hours pass. You entered the mouth of a tight canyon about a quarter mile back. Steep cliffs now rise up on both sides, making this jaunt a one way road. Mando slows the blurrg down to a cautious speed. His head moves slowly, side to side, up and down. He must be scanning the area, but for what or who?  You wonder what capabilities that helmet has. 

Probably able to read tracks.

At this slow rate of speed, you once again become achingly aware of your close proximity.  Your breasts are flush against Mando’s back and for some reason, your nipples are achingly aware of it. You silently thank the maker he can't feel them hardening against his back through the many layers he is wearing. Every once in a while the tops of your thighs make contact with the backs of his and you discover-purely by accident- that he has a really firm backside. Maybe its because you haven’t been laid in a really long time or maybe its because you almost died and now you are feeling like life is a precious thing not to be wasted, but whatever the reason is, you find yourself thinking about his body.

  What does he look like under all that armor? Does he really never take it off? I wonder what a Mandalorian would be like in bed? I wonder what HE would be like…….SNAP OUT OF IT!!!!  

Sighing deeply, you try to ignore the heat blooming between your legs, and shake loose where those thoughts are headed. 

What’s wrong with me? Why am I having these thoughts now? ....Because you're pressed up against him tighter than a taun taun’s ass in a snowstorm.

You need a distraction- something to take your mind off of his body and away from your dirty thoughts... and just like that your body obeys...in the most embarrassing way. Your stomach lets out such a loud growl you almost aren’t sure if it’s you or the blurrg.

Food! I can eat real food now! Assuming Mando has any on him? 

Maker, it has been days since you have last eaten and now that the adrenaline of escaping the hold has worn off, you are starting to feel a bit weak again. You are just about to ask Mando if he has any food on him when he pulls the blurrg to a complete stop. He is still scanning the area- his helmet turning methodically to the side- his gaze follows the wall upward. Slowly, he moves his right hand to his hip and begins to un-holster his blaster. Your heart begins to race wildly at the implication. You want so badly to ask him what is wrong, but think in this moment he’d appreciate your silence more. You try to scan the area, try to detect whatever seems to have disturbed him, but see nothing.

Suddenly, a shot rings out from above! A flash of light out of the corner of your eye and a deafening CLANG of beskar sounds, as Mando takes a direct hit and is knocked off the blurrg and into the canyon wall.

Panic sets in again, you're frozen, paralyzed in place. You need to do something, anything, but the best your mind can come up with is to duck.

  What the fuck are you doing? Your ducking? You’re out in the open, you need to move! 

Mando makes the decision for you. He’s on his feet again firing back shots with his blaster. He turns for a second and leaps up to grab you around the waist, yanking you and his pack down off the animal- the blurrg now a shield between you and the enemy. You squat down covering your ears as blast after blast ricochets off the canyon wall. You look up and see a body fall from the cliff above as Mando hits his target with blaster fire. There must be more than one out there though because Mando continues firing shots.  

“Stay here.” Mando says, pulling his longarm disruptor rifle off the blurrg’s harness. He swiftly slides it into his back strap like he’s done it a million times before and walks straight out and into the fray. The blurrg is now bucking wildly, frightened by all the commotion. Finding the courage to get up, you move forward grabbing onto the reins, and try to steady the beast. You move to the side, trying to see what Mando is doing. Several yards ahead of him, a large reptilian bandit- a Trandoshan you think- leaps out from behind a rock face and slams into Mando with it’s vibro-axe. Mando’s blaster goes flying out of his hand and lands a few yards away.

The Trandoshan lands another hard blow to Mando’s helmet, sending sparks flying as the vibro-axe blade makes contact with the beskar. The Trandoshan continues attacking aggressively- Mando retreats with backward steps as he deflects blow after blow with his metal vambraces. Finally, he catches the axe in the middle of the shaft and uses his strength and leverage to send the bandit ass over head into the mud. Just as you think he’s found the upper hand, two more bandits appear out of nowhere to join the fight.

It’s three on one and these guys look very capable. You don’t see how Mando can win this...unless you can help? The blaster is out in the open. You can reach it if you move quickly. It’s the blurrg or the blaster, so you drop the reins and run like hell for it. You hear Mando grunt as he takes a particularly hard hit and it spurns you to move even faster. You scurry across the mud and reach out to snatch the blaster up- it’s heavier than you're used to and clearly built for a large hand. With your small hand around the grip,  the tip of your finger can barely reach the trigger. You attempt to take aim but they’re all moving so quickly. Mando lands a hard kick to another Trandoshan’s chest and turns to slam the blade end into the third one before the second one even hits the ground.

  Maker almighty, he is fast. 

It’s two on one now, and he is trading swings with them simultaneously as they charge at him in a united front. They continue trading blows and with Mando in between you and them- you can’t get a clear shot off! One of them slams him hard from the side and it sends the axe flying out of his grip. Before they can land a second blow he has already reached back over his head and pulled the disruptor rifle off of his back. He uses it as a spear to block several blows and takes one of them by surprise with a nasty kick to the leg, successfully putting that one down. He quickly flips a switch igniting the electro mechanism and spears a bandit in the gut with a blast of blue light. He turns to the one already on the ground and fires off another shot- one for good measure. The third Trando takes off at a dead run straight toward you. Ready this time, you step back, blaster arm extended, and take aim. Before you can pull the trigger, the sound of a large blast rings off the canyon walls and the Trando disintegrates to ash before your eyes.

When the smoke clears, you can see that you and Mando both have your aims set on each other, now that the body you were both aiming for is dust in the wind. You take a step back, both lowering your weapons at the same time- you never having got a shot off. Your heart is pounding and both of your chests are heaving-him from the fight and you from the rush of adrenaline. You stay like that for a moment, just staring at each other. You don’t know what he’s thinking but you are in awe. In battle, he is a glorious thing to behold. 

The stories are true.

You’d never seen anyone dispatch an enemy so quickly and outnumbered like he was. But instead of feeling safer, you are reminded that he is lethal. He is dangerous. And he is scary. Another shiver runs down your back.

“The blurrg is gone.” he says, only slightly out of breath.

“The blurrg is gone.” You repeat dumbly, your brain still processing what has just happened.

You say the words again over in your mind and suddenly reality comes crashing through. You whip around to look behind you and he’s right. The blurrg is long gone, probably took off in a fright once you released the reins.

“Shit! The blurrg is gone!” you say again, confirming what he already knows. 

You stare off down the canyon in the direction from whence you came knowing that there is no chance of catching it. This is your fault, you should have held onto the animal. Though your intentions were to help, it turns out Mando didn’t need it and now he is out a bounty- and a ride. You feel responsible, and pretty awful in that moment. You wait for his anger, a reprimand, an heir of annoyance...some harshness to come. But it doesn’t.

Mando walks over to scoop up his pack and just says, “Looks like we’re walking from here.”

That’s all?  He holds out his hand to you and you want to take it, want to link fingers with him for some unknown reason, but you realize he is only gesturing for you to hand over his blaster. You turn it around, extending the grip to him. In a fluid motion, he swiftly holsters the weapon to his hip and secures the rifle to his back. Just another day in the life of a bounty hunter?

Without a word he starts walking in the direction you were originally headed and you follow close behind. As you pass by the lifeless body of one of the raiders, Mando crushes a small blinking object with his boot.

Blurrgs might be uncomfortable, but walking through the desert after weeks spent in a hole in the ground is worse. Thankfully- Mando has a few gel packs on him, giving you just enough energy to keep up with him. You are grateful he is still helping you- and for the food, so you try not to make too much a show of happiness when he says you can stop for the night. You are camping out in the middle of what looks like old salt flats, nothing but dust and compact terrain. 

At least the air is fresh and the skies are clear.  

The sun has set and although there are no materials around for a fire, Mando surprises you when he pulls a small collapsible lantern from his pack. He doesn't say a word as you guzzle down another gel pack- manors be damned. It occurs to you that he hasn’t eaten at all today and you realize that that too is because of you- He can��t eat unless he takes off that helmet.

He removes his shoulder pauldron and pushes up his sleeve, revealing a major gash.

“You’re hurt.” you say, realizing that he walked for hours like that.

“It’s not bad.”

He opens his small pack and takes out a small tool- a cauterizing gun you realize. He stretches open the hole on his sleeve for better access to the wound and starts sealing the gash. The smell of burning skin is enough to make you put down your last gel pack.

After a moment, he takes a break, his shoulders hunching forward a bit and he sighs. It’s probably a struggle to see what he is doing with that visor and all that armor on.

“Let me help you with that.” 

He turns to you and seems to consider your offer. To your surprise, he holds out the cauterizer and you grab it as you shift to move closer to him. He seems relieved he won’t have to finish the job, tilting his head up to the sky and taking a deep breath.

You examine the wound carefully. It’s a nasty gash- deep too.

“I take it this sort of thing happens to you a lot?” you ask.

“Part of the job.” he says, looking back down at the wound.

Around the outside of the cut you can just make out the color of golden skin- proof that there is a warm body underneath all that cold beskar.

“This would heal better with stitches… do you have a needle and sutures?” 

He nods yes and opens up his small med pack again. You look through the supplies and decide you have everything you need.

“Bacta spray?” you ask.

“No, don’t waste it. It’s not that bad.”

You nod in agreement decide that he obviously has a high pain threshold.

“This is gonna sting a bit, I’m sorry.” -You wince as you swab the area with an antiseptic wipe, but if he feels it, he makes no show of it. You lean in close and slowly blow on the wound, hoping it relieves some of the sting. You’re not sure how you know with his helmet on, but at that moment you can feel his gaze boring down on your face and you can’t help but heat a little.

He watches as you carefully use the alcohol to wipe at your hands, doing your best to keep this a sterile procedure. You prepare the needle and suture.

“I’ll be as quick as I can.” 

He nods again and you proceed with the first stitch. He’s a good patient- he sits perfectly still as you work, even though you know it must hurt like a son of a bitch. One of the best ways to deal with pain is distraction, so you start asking him questions in an attempt to do just that.

“Is it true?...Do you really never take the helmet off?”

“No.”

You think that’s all he’s going to say on the matter but after a moment he continues, “ I take it off when I’m alone.”

“So nobody has ever seen your face?”

“Not since I first put it on, not since I was a child.”

You think about that and it just sounds so sad. You are a loner too, but it’s out of necessity, not by choice. And even though you are making your way across the galaxy and are careful not to form attachments, you still find you are able to connect to people, even casual passersby. At the market a few weeks back, an elderly lady selling fruit had given you the warmest smile. It was enough to light up your day- to know that she saw you even for a moment, that you mattered somehow, that even though you hadn’t found your purpose in life yet, you still knew in your heart there was one. You of course had returned a warm smile in kind and in that briefest of exchanges you didn’t feel alone.

  Does a Mandalorian ever smile? What does HIS smile look like? Something in your gut tells you it would be devastating.

“That must be hard for you.” you say, flinching as you push the needle through a particularly deep layer of skin.

“This is the way.” he says resolutely.

Continuing your line of stitches, you decide to change topics and ask him how far of a walk you’ll have to travel tomorrow. It hadn’t really occurred to you to ask where exactly you both were headed until now. At first you were just so happy, so relieved to have escaped, that your only goal was to put miles and miles between you and that dreaded hole in the ground. Now that that had happened, you needed to figure out your next move.

“We should reach the Crest by late morning.”

“The Crest?”

“My ship, the Razor Crest.”

“Then?” you ask, pulling closed the last stitch and tying it off.

“Then...I’m headed for Navarro.”

“Navarro, huh? Never been. You think I’ll be able to catch a ride out of there?”

“There is a town...and there is a lot of...in and out traffic. The guild has a set up there.”

It didn’t sound ideal. You hoped there’d be more than just bounty hunters traveling through, but at least it’s something. With any luck you can catch a ride with a spice runner or something. At least it’s something and at least you know where you are going next.

“There, all finished.” you say, admiring your work. It isn’t half bad, and the scar isn’t nearly as bad as it would be if he had used the cauterizer instead. You wonder how many scars he has on his body. 

He’s probably littered with scars like this.

Mando tilts his visor down to examine the stitches. “Hey, that’s pretty good work…...Thank you.” He offers sincerely.

You smile, “Yeah, not bad for my first time, huh?” you say sounding overly proud.

“First time? You’ve never done this before?”

“Nope.” you say matter of factly.

He looks back at the stitches and then back to you again. “Then why’d you think you’d know how?”

“I didn’t,” you say with a chuckle. “But I hem holes in my clothes all the time...and I figured I couldn’t do any worse than that hack job you were doing with the cauterizer.”

He looks at the wound again and lets out a small sound of amusement, “ huh.”

And that brief sound- even modulated as it is- sends a warm feeling coursing through your body. You can't tell him the truth of course- that you had done it out of guilt. Because the truth is that you probably could have healed the wound completely with a simple touch. Well, maybe not simple. The act of healing flesh is something you had only discovered you could do recently, and turns out it was quite trying on your body. But this was a small wound according to him, just another in a large collection and wasn't fatal in the least. The reward wasn't worth outing yourself over, even if you did owe him a debt for saving your life...twice now.

“You should try and get some sleep.” 

You nod in agreement and try to settle into a comfortable sleeping position- as impossible as that seems on the hard ground. He reaches over to turn the lantern off and your hand shoots out faster than lightspeed to land on top of his.

“Can you…..can you leave it on...just until I fall asleep?” You regret the words as soon as they leave your lips. The mortification of your request- you sound like a youngling, still afraid of the dark. But after spending all that time in the inky blackness of that hole, after going days on end without light- you are afraid of being in the dark again.

“O.k.” he says, removing his hand.  

“Thank you.”

Your admission without words seems to make him uncomfortable, so you once again decide to change the subject. You turn over, facing away from him, and resettle your body into a sleeping position- your back now facing him.

You don’t say ‘goodnight’- something about that just sounds silly. So instead you say, “You should eat….I won’t look...I promise.” and close your eyes.

It doesn’t take long before you drift off to sleep, your body exhausted from it’s trials. You dream of raiders, you dream of running and eventually you dream of darkness. Lost in the blackness, blind even though your eyes are open; but this time you aren’t confined to a hole in the ground. The dark before you is never ending. You can reach your arms out and never make contact with a wall. The depths feel fathomless and that is even scarier than being in the hole. Then a soothing baritone voice whispers something in your ear. You can’t quite make out the words but they are soothing nonetheless. A blanket of warmth and the light scent of leather, beskar and a hint of white smoke envelopes your body. After that you fall into an even deeper sleep, until you dream of nothing at all.

You wake in the early morning hours, before the sun makes it’s appearance over the horizon and find yourself wrapped in the Mandalorian’s cloak.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / All Chapters

[meowincstuff]

Getting Things Done Right. EU: goo.gl/wfuVZ3 US: goo.gl/HHT04O #ibes #ocd #hanka #shirt #fun #funny #satire #ocdproblems #ocdclean #ocdesign #ocdfinish #ocdmuch #ocdprobs #ocdining #quotes #funnyquotes #dschungelcamp #dschungelcamp2017 #zwang #zwangsstörung #zwangskrankheit #psyche #dépression http://ift.tt/2ka2PAX

[joeingramspeaks]

The most amazing brunch @thecuthcb a special thanks to @thecutsteve for creating the best food in the OC. Scroll through the pics to see what we had! #BestfoodintheOC #ocdining #oceats #thecutirvine #thecutislife #handcraftedburgers #weekendbrunch #treslechesfrenchtoast #chickennwaffles #mothersday2018 (at THE CUT)

[puckdevil8]

Light sushi snack...now a little avocado ice cream, a book and the Orange Circle. Relaxation. #ilovetoeat #foodpornshare #lovecooking #foodporn #foodgasm #foodies #foodlover #foodcoma #foodlovers #foodisfuel #foodpic #foodstagram #goodfood #GooniesNeverSayDie #healthygoals #instafood #nomnom #nomnomnom #ocdining #OCfoodfare #OrangeCounty #yelpelite #eatersanonymous #tgif #thesimplydelicious #thatisall (at Old Towne, Orange Historic District)