#or would we have to find a whole new system for people born off planets

[foreversandalways]

unpopular synastry opinions

as someone who studies ancient hellenistic astrology and as someone who’s been genuinely enthused by astrology/synastry for a long time now.

- there is no perfect synastry. synastry is relative to the people involved; it informs us about a dynamic, but doesn’t in and of itself make a statement about the longevity, success, or even health of a relationship. you’re much better off asking a horary astrologer a specific outcome based questions about a certain relationship to get a definitive answer. a “successful” (using that word relatively, because what constitutes success differs greatly between people) relationship largely depends on two people and their karma. synastry just informs a dynamic.

- conjunctions are not positive aspects to have. ancient astrologers didn’t even consider the conjunction an aspect. it’s a blending of energy, and the “goodness” you get from it depends on the planets involved.

for example, moon conjunct mercury can be nice for telepathy but I’ve seen it play out where the moon person doesn’t let the mercury person get a word in where they’re talking.

if venus is conjunct mercury, that’s positive because venus is a benefic, not because the the conjunction itself is positive. even venus/mercury squares can make for a pleasant dynamic because VENUS as a planetary archetype promotes harmony no matter what aspect she’s in. conversely, venus conjunct saturn would be more difficult because Venus’s pleasantness is inextricably tied to Saturn’s cold, dry nature, which over time can weight her down. especially if the Saturn person is a night chart. which leads me to my next point.

- SECT MATTERS. whether one person is a day chart or a night chart matters tremendously. For people with day charts (you were born during the day, or your sun falls in houses 7-12 in the whole sign house system) your most positive planets are the sun, jupiter, and saturn. for people with night charts (you were born during the night, or your sun falls in houses 1-6 in the whole signs house system) the moon, venus, and mars are your most positive planets. mars is more troublesome in a day chart, saturn is less troublesome and more helpful. saturn is more troublesome in a night chart, mars is less troublesome and more productive.

venus conjunct saturn in the synastry where the saturn person is a night chart is going to be way more difficult than if it was a day chart. venus trine jupiter in a chart where the jupiter person is a day chart is going to be felt more positively than if they were a night chart.

- which leads me to my next point. i like venus/mars aspects waaay better when the two people are both night charts, because venus and mars are both part of the night sect. i find them hotter, there’s less bickering and more passion. yes, even the squares and oppositions. in fact i prefer them.

- a bunch of trines and sextiles in synastry are boring, and i’d even go as far as saying those are the real synastry red flags. oppositions and squares bring tension, but tension is a part of growth and life. tension sparks creativity. think about the sexual tension it takes for two people to have sex and create a child. think about how the moon cycle is brought to manifestation via squares and oppositions. we have our new moon (conjunction) first quarter moon (square) so on and so forth until we reach the full moon (opposition) where things come to fruition.

trines and sextiles are nice and do have their value and place, but they’re just that. nice. not dynamic. i barely felt it when pluto trined my sun, but when it squared my mars it spurred me to action for the better. souls need growth and that’s what the hard aspects provide.

- someone’s planet conjunct your angles isn’t necessarily good, just loud.

lemme say it again: SOMEONE’S PLANET CONJUNCTING YOUR ANGLES ISN’T NECESSARILY GOOD, JUST LOUD. that goes for the degrees of the AC, IC, DC, and MC. it can signify them being an important figure in your life, but important doesn’t always mean good, or lasting. just prominent. the angular houses (1, 4, 7, 10) are the anchors of the chart with the most important life themes, so planets here are LOUD, but loud doesn’t mean GOOD.

case in point: sophie turner and joe jonas. her venus sits right on his descendant. you’d think that would mean soulmate, true love, and it very well was for them at some point, but now it’s nasty divorce in the press (the descendant also being the place of opposition, and things seen in the public)

- synastry also isn’t static. what worked and was lovely one day could suffocate you tomorrow depending on your own souls growth. venus conjunct saturn can mean lovely stability and dependability between you two one day, and then three years later it means you feel like your partner gets colder and colder towards you, dampening your spark.

- saturn square venus in synastry does not work. spare yourself the heartache, it’s the most blatant omen of cosmic NO I’ve ever seen and experienced. the universe does not want y’all together.

- the 8th house is not about sex. I see this so much on tumblr and it makes me want to SCREAM. the 8th house is NOT. ABOUT. SEX. it is about the consequences of merging with someone. in the 8th house you take on their benefits and their baggage. the 8th house in the ancient tradition was associated with the esteem of others, i.e being beholden to what other people have and can provide you with. speaking as an 8th house venus myself, that isn’t always fun. it’s also a place associated with death, anxiety, and avoiding the inevitable. the 5th and even 7th house are much better places to look for sex. modern astrology has such a misconstrued view of the 8th house as some deep, intense sexy soul bearing place and that’s not what it is at all. i PROMISE you that if you become competent enough you’ll find intensity in some other aspect or placement in your synastry.

- 12th HOUSE SYNASTRY IS NOT SOULMATE SYNASTRY. I don’t even like speaking in absolute terms, I know a happily married couple where her aries stellium falls into his 12th (trining his leo venus, but i digress) but it’s more so the romanticizing of the 12th that drives me crazy. the 12th house is a place of mental anguish, suffering, isolation, and losing yourself. it is called the joy of Saturn, the greater evil-doer. it is a place of hidden enemies, and people who secretly sabotage you. if the ruler of the 7th is in the 12th, the partner can undermine you in some way. if the fourth house ruler is in the 12th, your parents or family could keep some secret from you. it is considered a bad house. the ancients called it “bad spirit” for a reason. tread carefully.

- sign affinity works! when all else fails keep it simple! you’re going to get along with people whose moon sign is in the same element as yours. if you’re a taurus venus, you just “get” other taurus placements, regardless of the house it falls in in your natal chart.

- 11th house synastry is good, and it’s not just cause you’d feel friendly feelings towards each other or whatever. the 11th house is called “good spirit” in ancient astrology, it’s the joy of jupiter. planets here are uplifting and supportive, so someone else’s planets falling here would have a similar effect. it’s warm. i especially like the moon here in synastry.

- nothing beats 7th house synastry. I don’t care, it’s the true house of merging and intimacy and closeness. the seventh house is where you find close bonds. 1st and 5th house are close second and thirds.

- don’t sleep on love asteroids! don’t make them the end all be all, planets will always tell the story best, but i’m currently obsessed with them at the moment. i could make a whole separate post on them.

- juno trines/squares/oppositions >>> juno conjunctions. i’ve seen the trines function much better than the conjunctions. goes back to my point about conjunctions being neutral. i have literally seen venus conjunct juno and saturn conjunct juno relationships fall apart while saturn trine juno, or jupiter square juno relationships thrive over years.

- the asteroid person is the one who feels it in synastry. they play out the myth/meaning through the planet person. this is what i’ve seen on an overarching level. if someone’s cupido conjuncts one of your planets, they have a crush/infatuation and you feel it, and may or may not reciprocate.

i think i’ll cap it here!

[diosapate]

☕️ what d'you suppose mercymorn and augustine's plans for society were post-john?

a couple thoughts on this:

i don't actually think Mercy had any plans for society after killing John — she's motivated almost entirely by her own sense of justice, which is vengeance — and her lack of commitment to recovering society is pretty clearly demonstrated by what she says to Augustine after she kills John:

“Augustine, you promised me that after we did it we would go somewhere and drop into the nearest sun—”

and even though she does say that they "planned for a mass evacuation", given what we see from her throughout HtN, this seems to never really have been a priority for her. she's exacted her vengeance on someone who's hurt her, and it certainly didn't heal her, so she's waiting on the green light from Augustine to reenact the suicide pact that gave them lyctorhood in the first place and close the loop.

on the other hand, Augustine seems to have actually planned out what his plan was (and even waxes poetic about it, the old drama queen that he is):

We’re going to go round up the ships—everyone who’s left—sue for peace as best we can—get the Edenites on side. And then we’ll find a place to fulfill the old promise … Somewhere out there exists a home not paid for with blood; it won’t be for us, but it will be for those who have been spared. Babies always get born. Houses always get built. And flowers will die on necromancy’s grave.

(with "the old promise" here, i believe, referring to Mercy's "you promised me" wrt their own deaths)

he actually seems interested in doing work as some sort of, i don't know, repentance for the horrific lives they've led. but he's also adamant that this new "home" isn't for them — actions that frankly seem uncharacteristically unselfish for him of all people, but given A—'s involvement in John's cryo project and his responsibility for getting people off of the planet to supposedly save them, i think it does check out for who he was before he was beset by, y'know, horrors of unimaginable magnitude.

Mercy wants to die, but Augustine — at least for a time — wants to live and do better (and only with her!! everything he's just wrenched from his heart and put up on the table goes completely out the window when John kills her) before he's satisfied with the both of them finally being able to die.

(i'd love to ask Tamsyn if she's intentionally referencing Voltaire here, given the striking parallels/refutations to 'make our garden grow' or if i'm connecting dots that aren't there, but that is neither here nor there)

logistically, Augustine was banking on just getting their people out of the house system, assuming Dominicus was going to collapse. he wants their people to be able to start over without the necromancy that has fueled imperialism for 10000 years, and imho, without imperialism as a whole given what he says to John about stopping and giving up the mission.

necromancy operates under the guise of being reverent of death, but has ended up being a gross disrespect of it since John first discovered his powers and started puppeting corpses. necromancy has been preventing things from their natural cycle of life and death — the corpses didn't rot! — he posits that maybe, maybe flowers could finally die upon necromancy's (as well as his and Mercy's) grave.

[hubristicassholefight]

Hubristic Assholes Tourney Round 1 part 3a

Lelouch vi Britannia (Code Geass) vs Bedman (Guilty Gear)

Propaganda below cut! (spoiler warning)

Lelouch

Lelouch thinks he's singularly strong enough to take down an entire empire that controls two-thirds of the planet and owns giant murder robots. There are many, many times where he nearly gives away his secret identity, get himself or his allies killed, and/or ruins his own rebellion because he overestimates himself. Most notably, the entirety of his hubris throughout the series culminates in all of his allies turning against him and him only being able to survive because his "brother" has the exact required superpower to be able to sacrifice himself to save Lelouch. He also believes (mostly correctly, in the case of Code Geass) that he is so important that his death will bring about world peace; Lelouch is very similar to what happens when you take Light Yagami and make him both effective and actually a decent person.

Bedman

SO ngl I'm not entirely sure if this counts as hubris or not But. Him and his sister were both born with a condition that made their brains go too fast and forced them to have to be in a coma so their brains don't overheat. So Bedman was in a coma, dreaming, and found out that dreams were connected to a different dimension called "The Backyard". Now, there's a lot of confusing lore when ot comes to The Backyard, but it's essentially the "code" or "operating system" of reality. So what do you do when you find out that you can basically manipulate reality via your dreams while in a coma? Try to become a god of course! Well, kinda. More specifically he wanted to create what's basically a new world, one where he can rewrite a few things so that him and his sister don't have to deal with being in a coma. But that'd require basically god like powers to actually pull off. Now, at some point while he was making his plans in The Backyard, he met the pope (no like, literally the pope,) otherwise known as Ariels. Before this he was full well ready to die to meet his goal, but Ariels offered a few alterations to his plans that would allow him to live (and allow her to meet her goals as well). So with her connections as the pope, Ariels was able to fashion him a mechanical weaponized bedframe that he could control and use for his missions (aka murder lots of murder). Fast forwards a bit and surprise surprise! The plans are kinda sorta falling apart. He's still sticking with it to the bitter end and, by God, is the end bitter. A retired vampire and some people who used to/still work for the assassins guilt he used to run (long story) figured out Bedman's weaknesses, then put together a plan to defeat him. Of which involved a gay man who uses a billiards que as a weapon and a robot (who's also gay long story). So these 2 confront Bedman, the robot tells him to touch grass before blowing up in his face and allowing the gay man to crush Bedman with a giant que (again, long story). This act wakes Bedman up. After this they kinda fuck off, then Ariels appears. Bedman, who looks like a literal wet cat at this point, informs Ariels that he is no longer useful in combat, and will use his remaining power to heal the casualties. What does Ariels do? Laugh. She fucking laughs and tells him that she's been manipulating him all long, and that he did so perfectly he even dies for her in the end. So he, understandably tbh, gets absolutely fucking furious with her and proceeds to begin creating an absolute world and prevents her from killing him. Telling her that he could've just, done this the whole time on his own. But it's already too late, he's dying from being awake for too long. So he uses the last of his power to do... Something. We aren't sure what Exactly he did, but he did something that allowed his sister to be awake. After which he turns to stone and Ariels is upset that she wasn't able to kill him herself. NOW, if this at all makes him sound super sympathetic, that's because I was trying to skip over a lot of stuff to save time and that included the part where he uhhhh, you know, kills hundreds, potentially thousands and enjoys it. The first scene you see of him is him choking a man in his dream world while tauting him and grinning. He isn't a good person and fully deserved what was coming to him (in fact his original plan most likely involved more people dying). Anyways, if you want to know more watch the Xrd arcade mode cutscenes and then watch the Xrd story mode they're all on YouTube;

So here's the other stuff I want to say about him: I LOVE HIM SO MUCH he's such an asshole he's great. Whenever you win a match as him he goes on a rant that could be summed up as "sucks to suck" but is 10 times longer than it needs to be while talking at mach 10. Example of this: "We talk about 'survival of the fittest' a lot but all that really means is the skilled live and the unskilled die. Since you're clearly in that second group, maybe pick your fights a bit more carefully? Do you understand what I'm saying? It's never going to matter how much you 'want it' when you're up against someone who can kill you with a sneeze." He also has an instant kill (a special attack that every character has a unique version of, it's also usually very over the top and flashy,) that is called The Theater of Pain. Basically, what he does in this attack is drag the opponent into his nightmare world (which is a movie theater) and subjects them to their worst possible trauma. He watches this with a grin and proceeds to fucking CLAP afterwards. My dude literally has his very own personal murder torture dimension and still felt the need to remake the whole world. If this doesn't sound like an asshole who's be done in by their hubris idk what does.

[vulcanhandkink]

Hey since in Kelvin timeline Jim was born in the middle of space would he still count as a Capricorn or...

[virghogh]

NCT Dream Birth Charts x Hexaco Results Analysis pt. 1

recently NCT Dream were on a new reality show called Mental Training Camp where they are doing a variety of activities and all of their behavior and interactions are being analyzed by professional psychologists.

ofc my virgo sun mercury ass was thrilled and I had their birth charts pulled up the whole time to cross reference.

I wanted to share some of my personal thoughts on how the 2 might connect!

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

**key: in the hexaco charts the blue represents the Dreamies, the orange is an average result of 300 college students who took the same test**

Mark - “Workaholic Leader”

✨leo sun // aries moon // cancer mercury // virgo venus // scorpio mars✨

they described him as a workaholic leader but quickly added that if he’s not now, he has potential to be in the future, although it seemed they all agreed he has workaholic spirit now 

this immediately made sense to me when you look at his chart i mean he’s being driven by a fire sun and moon and a scorpio mars (used to be ruled by mars) and virgo venus both of which are signs that have strong work ethics

the reason I like that they mentioned he could grow into it is because he’s still young and I agree that his placements could become more serious about work and life as he gets older, I think his leo sun/aries moon combo gives him very youthful energy but they’re still very driven signs

mark agreed that even throughout his trainee years when he was still very young, he was always practicing and was always called a workaholic. I see this in the intense drive, work ethic and perfectionism of virgo and scorpio but shining through with the warmth of his sun and moon

lets talk about this hexaco chart, what sticks out the most is Mark’s level of conscientiousness! (its so high like what even-) Conscientious people are careful, precise, detail oriented and in general care about doing their tasks well. I think this is directly connected to his scorpio mars! I always say that no matter what is in a chart, having a scorpio in big 6 will always have a strong influence and with a virgo venus, even though venus is considered a love planet it is also our value system, how we discern what is worthy and unworthy for us, and having virgo there makes him very practical. (as I mentioned though I think all of his placements together reflect a very driven person) (I also think mark is lucky to have a fire moon because if he had a water or earth I think his obsession and perfectionism of scorpio and virgo would make him d*pressed or too hard on himself) 

his virgo venus could even be why when they did the bag check they saw he’s quite “frugal” or practical and minimalist in the things he carries around. When you think about Venus, I mentioned it’s our values it’s also our aesthetics and it rules Taurus a materialistic sign, having virgo there gives me the impression of someone who is practical with their belongings, as we saw. 

We’ll see later in the post that there are a few Hexaco charts that I felt were a little unexpected but Marks imo was sooo spot on with his placements. With a fire sun and moon he’s very warm and open and has firey emotions. he’s not afraid to show them or be reactive and responsive (emotionality)! I think his honesty-humility reflects this too, he’s not too overly or underly honest, he’s just straightforward what you see is what you get and he answers in such a way too. His emotionality reflects the cancer mercury, the rashness of aries moon, and sensitivity of scorpio mars. 

tdlr; the human embodiment of driven, focused and hard working when it comes to his craft, but he loves to have fun in his outside life, and is practical in his inside life <3 his hexaco and birth chart align nicely

Jeno - “A scholar who gets hurt easily”

✨taurus sun // sagittarius moon // aries mercury // aries venus // taurus mars✨

so right off the bat I’m very curious where the scholar part comes in ?? They didn’t really reference it again in that way but I’m assuming they mean he’s very diplomatic? Defcon rephrased it as “you get miffed but well-mannered” 

a recurring comment was that he gets annoyed easily but doesn’t show it, I thought that was really funny because I feel like it reflects his aries influence well; being a little hot-headed but he has the patience of his taurus sun and mars to filter it :’) 

they talked a lot about how he gets hurt easily and mark even shared a cute lil story that practically had me on the floor because i just think it shows his taurus sooooo much I’d really love to have his house placements one day I’m really curious where his taurus is

if you didn’t see the episode basically mark said one time Jeno was passing some seniors in a building and said hi but they didn’t say hi back ): and just ignored him. Mark said Jeno was really hurt by that and went on about it for a long time saying stuff like “I’m sure they saw me” )): but he never expressed/acted on that hurt. taurus is represented by the bull so they do have a fierce side to them but imo i think taurus can be a really gentle/relaxed sign too; taurus mars is a slow to be angry slow to react placement, and one of the things taurus is well-known for is being fixed, stubborn, holding grudges which explains why that moment hurt and he held on to it. Jeno even agreed he tends to hold in a lot of his feelings and remembers little things that hurt him for a long time!

speaking of his taurus... they had a whole baseball analogy for the group saying that Jeno is a strong catcher, you can have a good pitcher but without a strong catcher the team would fall apart. They also mentioned a lot about Jeno not being in the spotlight, he doesn’t stand out, but he silently strengthens the team. And if that isn’t the most taurus description you’ve ever heard.,,,

I’ve been talking about his taurus a lot but at one point they said Jeno has a strong perfectionist side but he’s also very flexible and it’s difficult to have both. I personally see this a lot in his Sag moon (mutable) in contrast to his taurus placements (fixed). Sag moon to me always seem happy go lucky, if emotions come they go quickly too, mutable gives him that flexibility because they just like when things can change freely. It’s ruled by jupiter and I feel a common theme with sag in big 6 is it’s easy for people to be drawn to their jupiter qualities. They give the same freedom they crave, they can be very easy going and positive. Similar to mark, I also think it helps Jeno to have this moon sign over another! 

as for the hexaco, I’ll be honest the level of introvertness/shyness was a little surprising from an astrology stand point. When we see Jeno in all the NCT content I feel like it’s obvious he is on the shy side but if I was looking at only his chart, I don’t think I was expect it to be to the extent of the hexaco chart! (plss i need his birth time) in the same thread, his emotionality is really low and I can’t say I’m surprised from an astrology view😅 it’s not that he’s not compassionate or anything because he does care a lot about not upsetting people, but as we saw he is not very reactive and receptive emotionally ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  his openness is low too which fits what we’ve talked about above about his lack of reaction/expression of emotions, I feel like sag moons also don’t dwell especially with no water placements. 

The honesty and humility makes a lot of sense to me because i feel like taurus, aries and sag(!) are very righteous signs too! They care about integrity, they certainly might have their own idea of what is truth,.. but whatever it is, they believe in it! 

last note I want to make is on the whole “jeno isn’t funny” bit since they mentioned it. He said it hurt his ego when they first started the joke but it’s been going on for so long that I think he adapted to being able to take it as just that, a joke! It’s also funny to me that it started in the first place because earth signs are often called boring (it’s okay I’m an earth sign too lol) and I also have sag influence and I know people find me quite funny but I never try to be funny and it usually comes after my earth walls are down with close friends. 

tdlr; doesn’t ask or need spot light, gets annoyed easily but it doesn’t last, when something does hurt he remembers, slow or unlikely to be reactive and responsive, positive, comfort creature, loyal🥺

Chenle - “Friendly Guardian”

✨Sagittarius sun // Aquarius moon // scorpio mercury // scorpio venus // aquarius mars✨

there is something about chenle’s personality that I’ve always loved, he comes off as very warm, care-free, curious, friendly, caring. I like the personality title they gave him because I think it sums him up well. The members had all laughed when they saw it and enthusiastically agreed.  I also love his hexaco chart and think it reflects him really well, with most of it being just outside of the average :’) as far as how it reflects his birth chart, let’s get into it

I do want to disclaim that Chenle was born on the sag/scorpio cusp and to be a sag he would have had to be born after 3pm (!) but I think we would all agree he’s definitely a sagittarius sun anyways

Before this show when I watch nct dream content it always fascinated me how easy going chenle was in chaotic situations, he never seems too demanding or controlling, and sometimes i wondered if he was holding back for the cameras and was actually really frustrated but based off the hexaco it seems like he is actually just that agreeable, from looking at just his chart I don’t know if I would have guessed his agreeableness was that far. I know sag suns can be very easy going and aquarius is a more chilled sign but he has 2 aquarius and 2 scorpio placements they’re both fixed signs and quite like to be in control😅 (can we get a birth time pls) 

One argument could be the combination of sag sun with aquarius moon, since we have to look at all of it together. it does give me the impression of someone more easy-going possibly because there is the comfort of confidence! I feel like sag sun/aqua moon + mars would give someone a high opinion of themself (go chenle). this combination could create someone who is easy going because they don’t dwell and aren’t emotionally fueled nor do they fret over people that are. I’d say easy-going or maybe even just cool headed? He’s always laughing things off too, showing he doesn’t take himself too seriously! 

Speaking of taking things seriously, I think we can see this in the conscientious part of the hexaco, it was the lowest and I think it can be explained by what I mentioned above. It’s not that he isn’t driven or doesn’t work hard, he’s a full time idol they all work hard but I think it represents that work isn’t the focus of his life but rather people, connection, community, and just being happy is? 

they talked about how Chenle is the type of person that you meet and already feel like you’re friends. He could be the youngest in the room and talk down to you and you wouldn’t even think twice. This is huuuuge aquarius energy! I remember one of the first things I learned about aquarius was that they make friends everywhere. They talk to a stranger on the street for directions and next thing you know they’re “friends”

I also want to add that they mention he’s friendly but he gives off “big brother vibes” i feel like we’ve all seen that in other nct content too and would agree. This is interesting to me because sag and aquarius is not the same kind of friendliness as we see with marks leo sun aries moon. Leo and aries are “younger” signs, whereas aquas and sagittarius are towards the end of the signs, they’re considered “mature” signs which I feel contributes to chenle’s “big brother” energy. He has that aqua/sag energy where he seems really sure of himself, and wise and people look up to that.

I want to talk about his scorpio placements real quick because even though I just made a case for how open and easy-going he is, I’m still confused about how the scorpio fits into all of this. scorpio isn’t known to be one to be super open, agreeable or extroverted. I personally see his scorpio come out a lot in his realtionships. you can tell he cares deeply for his members and yes his aqua makes him get along with everyone but I feel like with the dream members we see that scorpio possessiveness and jealousy come out more. Lastly, I do want to add a little mystery to this, although his openness is high and it’s clear he is a very authentic person,,.. I definitely would not call him an open book👀

Chenle wasn’t able to be in the recording of this show unfortunately so all we got was a brief description of his hexaco chart and we won’t get any further analyses ): 

although I do agree that his hexaco chart reflects how he comes off in shows, I don’t think it completely reflects his chart so I’m going to say the house placements would help create a better picture! 

tdlr; fun and realtionships are a priority, he’s comfortable and confident in himself and people are drawn to that, v friendly😌but he has secrets👀

feedback, thoughts and clarifying questions are always welcome!

[dalekofchaos]

What would you say are the biggest mistakes Mass Effect 3 made?

Okay this is going to be a long one, but these would be the biggest mistakes ME3 ever made in my opinion

Choosing Cerberus over The Reapers. The thing that annoyed me most about ME3 is the fact that Harbinger is not the main threat. The Illusive Man is. Harbinger has been built up as the big bad since ME2. "YOU HAVE FAILED. WE WILL FIND ANOTHER WAY." He says as he discards the Collectors. Then his speech to Shepard as the base blows up. "Human, you've changed nothing. Your species has the attention of those infinitely your greater. That which you know as Reapers are your salvation through destruction. You will surrender your potential against the growing void. We return, and you will rise. We are the harbinger of your perfection. We will bring your species into harmony with our own. Your species will be raised to a new existence. We are the beginning, you will be the end. Prepare for our domination. Prepare for our coming." Then in Arrival, he came pretty damn close to unleashing quick subjugation and harvest upon an unprepared galaxy. Upon Shepard foiling his plans. "Shepard. You have become an annoyance. You fight against inevitability. Dust struggling against cosmic winds. This seems a victory to you. A star system sacrificed. But even now, your greatest civilizations are doomed to fall. Your leaders will beg to serve us. Know this as you die in vain: Your time will come. Your species will fall. Prepare yourselves for the Arrival." The perfect final villain right? Unfortunately, Cerberus was more focused on than The Reapers. My problem with Cerberus and no Harbinger is Too many Cerberus, too few Reaper forces in plot. We fight Cerberus more often than the reapers. Hardly any boss fight and the one with Reaper Destroyer on Rannoch was more an interactive movie than fight. During the Horizon mission in Mass Effect 2, Harbinger was solidified as the Big Bad. It was menacing and ominous, with just the right amount of annoying. It taunted us throughout the game, telling us how insignificant we were, and how our actions were pointless. It was willing to posses drones through the Collector General to fight us personally, and when we killed the host, it tossed them aside. Harbinger even gave the typical “You haven’t seen the last of me!” villain rant. It made any fire fight frustrating, and that made me want to kill it even more; I hated Harbinger. Many games fail to do that. Harbinger was an enemy which I looked forward to defeating. I had the desire to annihilate. In Mass Effect 3, I got a codex entry and a cameo. Harbinger just swoops in at the last second and blows my friends and I to hell(and lets the Normandy save them), then flies off. Personally, I would have loved to hear Harbinger’s menacing monologue, it drove me on. I would have felt a deeper motivation to take the fight back to Earth if it told me how much destruction the Reapers were causing, how many lives were lost. I felt cheated when I got to the final mission, only to suddenly realize it was largely absent from the game. Harbinger has been replaced. Replaced by the Illusive Man and Kai Leng. The former is an old acquaintance, albeit one now controlled by the Reapers. The latter is a space ninja from a terrible book. What would've been amazing is if Harbinger IS the Catalyst. Harbinger taunts and haunts Shepard throughout the game He uses the memory of that child to haunt Shepard as a symbol of humanity lost. After Shepard activates the Crucible. Harbinger appears. He explains to why and how The Reapers were made. the AI Leviathan created to solve the equation is Harbinger all along, Harbinger manipulated The Leviathan into giving it Reaper form and birth at first it did what it commanded and what they asked of it was to look at the dark energy building up which back then was only an anomaly that Leviathan was concerned with but then the first harvest began and Harbinger and The Reapers were born. Funny enough, Leviathan reminds me so much of FMA:Brotherhood. The Intelligence tricked Leviathan to create the Reaper is very similar to how the Dwarf in the flask became Father. So what I think should have happened is it would've been revealed that Harbinger is the AI that convinced the Leviathan that harvest was the only way to survive and justifies the harvests not because organics and synthetics can't coexist, but because of the dark matter crisis. Throughout the game we would have more confrontations with Harbinger. Have him "ASSUME CONTROL" during fights. Give us a voiced confrontation between Shepard and Harbinger. Make it clear that Harbinger chose The Illusive Man and convinced him of together they could uplift and empower humanity over the lesser races. The Illusive Man is to Harbinger, as what Saren was for Soverign. Then the Crucible will grant us the choice to Destroy or Control The Reapers or Harvest this cycle to survive the Dark Matter crisis. You could either. Destroy Harbinger and The Reapers, while the united races would discover a way to stop the dark matter problem. Give in to Harbinger to harvest humanity to save the galaxy. Control The Reapers to stop the harvesting and to work together to stop the dark matter crisis.

Choosing to have a smaller crew than ME2 and focusing solely on the ME1 characters and screwing over or ignoring the ME2 crew, especially romancing Jack, Miranda and Thane. If it were up to me, this is what my ideal ME3 line up would be Ashley/Kaidan EDI Garrus Liara Tali Javik Jack Miranda Thane(EA forgot about him and simply chose to kill him off, I think Thane could’ve rejoined the crew and even had a mission where we find a cure for Thane and Kolyat) Grunt Mordin(you'll see how later) Legion(You'll see later) Balak or any Batarian Squadmember. Ideally it would be someone who survived the Bahak system or even a Batarian freedom fighter who puts his people’s survival over the pride and prejudices of the Hegemony. His sole goal is to liberate Khar'shan and save his people. But for a more memorable person, Balak would be the squad member. I would make killing Balak not an option. The last high ranking officer in the Hegemony. Instead of causing deaths on the Citadel, he seeks Shepard out. It’s an enemy of my enemy is my friend. Over time, Balak would show remorse for his past actions as a terrorist and for the Hegemony’s past. Shepard and Balak learns to overcome their differences and see each other as friend and works together to destroy the Reapers. We would get a Priority Khar’shan where we could liberate the planet and the Batarians would be in a fighting force.

Keeping James alive. I like James, but he added absolutely nothing to the game. We already had an Alliance character. Ashley Williams/Kaidan Alenko. James should have been the Jenkins/Wilson of the game. He should have died in the crash to take out Eva and Ashley/Kaidan should have been with us from beginning to end. James is a character we barely know. We’ve waited a long ass time to see Ashley/Kaidan and it was downright disappointing that neither Ashley nor Kaidan did not get to interact with Garrus on Priority Palaven and Wrex during Priority S’Urkesh.

Mirandafying Ashley Williams. Mirandafying Ashley Williams for Mass Effect 3 was shallow and unnecessary. Wearing loose and long hair and skimpy clothing? Ashley Williams is a by the books soldier. She would not look like this. She would not grow her hair or let it down like this. I mean, it’s not that they changed her face so much, but they just tried too hard with the makeup, hair and outfit. Ashley didn’t need to be model-sexy and run around in heels and showing cleavage. She was already sexy as hell in her own way. All they needed to do was give her the Alliance Crewmen outfit as her casual look and the Phoenix Armor and the current Alliance type armor she was given in ME3, as well as a unique Spectre armor. It's not just the shallow Mirandafying. It's the fact that Ashley has little to no interactions. Ashley barely has any interactions in the game. Compared to Kaidan, Ashley is not interactable. I don't like that Ashley barely has any interactions and just feels...hollow. Ashley should have crew moments with Joker, Adams, Ashley at the monument mourning those who died with the original Normandy, Liara, Tali and Garrus. Was it so much to ask for simple interactions? And really, Ashley in the first game had a personality, Ashley in ME3 feels hollow.

Choosing Diana Allers over Emily Wong and Khalisah al-Jilani. Emily and Khalisah are two reporters we actually know and respect. They earned their place on the Normandy. Emily reported on crime and traffic controllers. Khalisah gave us hard hitting questions and actually cared about reporting on what the fuck was going on in the galaxy. They earned their place on the Normandy as far as I'm concerned. Compare that to Diana Allers. What has Diana Allers done to deserve a spot on the Normandy? Nothing. They created the Battlespace to make her seem like a hip and cool Alliance News Correspondent. Allers looked, weird and she just comes off as annoying and she's a waste of space on the Normandy when we could've had a whole new or returning squad member. God, I WISH Javik could throw her out the fucking airlock. You had TWO perfectly great reporter characters and you did jackshit for any of them. Just so you could have an excuse to hire Jessica Chobot.

Not letting us see Tali's face on Rannoch. Legendary Edition fixed the mistake by finally showing us Tali's face, but it's still exclusive to Shali romancers. What should have happened was we see Tali's face when she unmasks on Rannoch. If we don't romance her, she unmasks and gives us a smile. If we romance her we see her face and kiss her. Something simple like that. It would've been great to see

Not having the ME2 squad members join in on the Citadel DLC. I mean for fuck's sake, it's like they want us to know "fuck you, ME1 squadmembers only" Again, why? Why wasn’t Jack, Miranda, Grunt, Samara, Jacob, Zaeed and Kasumi not added? If we romanced Jack or Miranda, why didn't they come to save us when we were being hunted? Why not REALLY making it feel like Team Hammerhead by actually adding the ME2 Squad members to the Citadel DLC before the party? There was no reason why you couldn't include the ME2 squad members in the Citadel DLC

Making Cerberus the villains instead of uneasy allies, when The Batarians were the perfect allies for The Reapers. This might just be me but I think Cerberus should have been on our side in ME3 and The Batarians should have been fighting for The Reapers. Makes sense Cerberus has just been a rouge organization doing what the job no matter what the cost(even if the cost is atrocities) and instead of indoctrinating themselves they could of studied it to make themselves immune to indoctrination and The Illusive Man's goal was to use any means necessary in order to destroy The Reapers. I also like the idea that you know you can't trust him, but he does get results. The Council and The Alliance are desperate, so they accept a partnership with Cerberus. The Batarians have always held a grudge against The Alliance, The Council and would have wanted revenge for Bahak/ Viper Nebula. The fact that there are no consequences for what we had to do in Arrival from The Batarians just doesn't make any sense and you'd think this would give The Batarians the motive to turn to The Reapers. Hell in the Terra Nova DLC in Mass Effect 1 it seemed to me that Balak was already indoctrinated and Balak’s revelation of the “Batarian rebellion” makes it seem like they would be the perfect tools for The Reapers. Balak will be the new Saren figure. If you killed Balak, then The Reapers would just bring him back. The first act of war for the Batarians was the destruction of the Viper Nebula, so their retaliation was killing Udina. Prior to the Reaper invasion of Earth, Udina would go to Omega to make peace talks with Aria. The Batarians attack and gain control of Omega, Aria is ousted(but saved by General Petrovsky) and Udina is executed live for the galaxy to see. Because of Udina's execution and Anderson leading the resistance on Earth. The Illusive Man is now the Human Councilor. Miranda and Kai Leng would be squad members. Depending on if you gave TIM the Collector Base or destroyed it, he will either keep you in the dark or help you at every turn. Just think of the Cerberus War Assets Cerberus Scientists General Oleg Petrovsky Collector Base Cerberus Fighters Cerberus Phantoms Cerberus Engineers Project Phoenix We would get a big mission to deal with the Batarians, Priority:Khar'shan. If you do not deal with the Batarians, there will be major casualties. However half of the Batarian forces are not indoctrinated and just want to end the mistakes of their government and live. Balak wants to kill the rebellion of his people. Ironic. Somehow Balak has placed enough bombs on the planet to destroy everyone who is resisting Reaper indoctrination. We can either. Talk Balak out of it. Telling him to resist and fight for your people(which WOULD gain Balak as an ally) or talk Balak into killing himself. Or the true Renegade option is to kill Balak and order a strike that wipes out the Batarian forces, but sacrificing the Batarian Rebellion. By the time we get to Priority Earth everyone is on the same page and united against the true threat, The Reapers. And it is Harbinger who is the final boss

Not having Maelon be there with Mordin in ME3. This isn't really a problem, but I had a thought. If we spared Maelon and kept Maelon's data for the cure. Maelon should have been on board to help Mordin with the cure. If we warn Mordin and Maelon about the sabotage, then Maelon would choose to sacrifice himself to save Mordin. And after that, Mordin would choose to join Shepard's crew.

Legion's "death" is pointless. He....is software. He could easily copy and paste The Reaper code without sacrificing himself in the same manner when he was broadcasting the Reaper signal to all Geth. Or he could've disseminated himself after he made a copy and transfer that copy over to his platform. I just get the feeling that they didn't want to keep Mordin, Thane or Legion alive....for reasons.

[one-real-imonkey]

Wild anon with far too many ideas is back! Have you seen @thatfunkyopossum's headcanons for the Guard being dumpster divers (post/621942185340846080/coruscant-guard-culture-hcs)? It's so interesting! Does anything similar happen in the Corrie Guard AU? Now I'm just imagining clones organizing furniture / clothing drives for the refugees in the lower levels. Or having a huge system of trade and bartering for supplies / bacta / etc. There's a lot of potential!

Hi anon with so many ideas, I love them all and I'm adding to my answers for all of them, some of which will be fics some will just be notes like this one. Anyway, thank you so much for asking, and here we go...

———

Yeah, my Corrie Guard AU has some very similar things.

Overall, they're opportunistic, and they don't waste things or look down on what they're offered. They get very good at repurposing and fixing things. They don't actually have a lot of oversight, the Senators and nat-born Senate Guard don't care about the Guard barracks or what they do in their free time, so their base and their free time is theirs.

A lot of what they get is donated though. Some of its from the lower levels, started up by people who realised what the Corries were going through and decided to act, and it's often not much, but a pad and some colouring pencils or a homemade meal can go a long way emotionally to show you someone cares. Thanks to Palpy and the Senate, just giving them money isn't easy, not to mention many of the people in the lower levels don't have the money to spare. However, even if they can't be given credits, they can be given other things.

One of the most amazing things the Corries managed to get is access to food from the upper levels. Hound managed to wrangle a deal in which all the day old food that none of the rich snobs would buy because it was 'no longer fresh' from some of the high end patisseries near the base would go to the Guard instead of being thrown away. The Guard noticed all that perfectly good food going to waste and decided it was stupid that the food would be wasted when they didn't have enough. They managed to sort out a few deals like that, and while some of it is a little stale or has a little mould, most of the food is perfectly fine and the Corries are more than happy to have it.

A lot of the items that are donated from people rather than businesses are also things they can use to create things to sell, including toys for kids and pieces of art (and a few tattoo designs or just tattoos (Inky goes down to the lower levels twice a week to do tattoos and their costs are reasonable and fair)). A haberdashery sells their hand made dolls and soft toys in exchange for a small cut and a discount on the cost of the materials. That same haberdashery also gives them all the left over offcuts of materials for them to do with as they wish. They get sewn together or hung off of things and just generally used to spruce up the base.

They Corries do a lot of charity work and give a lot away to help others, if there's been a large accident like a fire or public transport crash or an outbreak of some sort of illness, supplies from the Guard may go 'missing'. They often spend their free time creating things they can donate or sell, especially to people who need them.

They also ended up in weird situations where they do favours for people in exchange for small but weird things. It started with Pup breaking off of a patrol to help a little old lady called Mirka carry some bags she was struggling with, and then she made an off hand comment about how very strong he was and how useless she was at doing things nowadays in her old age and he volunteers to help out. (He doesn't quite believe she's as weak as she claims, but he's not rude enough to doubt her aloud).

Pup was happy to help move some furniture for her, especially when she gave him a whole huge box full of home baked cookies ('Because you young boys deserve it') and then he offered to help again if she needed, and she told her friends about it...

Within a month a great deal of the Corries were going down to do all sorts of things these elderly citizens couldn't manage, and being rewarded with all sorts of things. Sometimes it was credits, sometimes it was food, sometimes it was books or fabrics or hand made clothes (theres a knitting group dedicated to making a jumper for every single Corrie) and sometimes it was even more random things, included but not limited to a day at a spa for 20, 4 gallons of homemade jam, a karaoke machine and a slightly broken but still working hydroponics device for growing plants.

And of course the plotting of conspiratorial little old ladies is never containable, so quickly all sorts of other opportunities are set up for the Corries to earn money without stress or danger, including youth clubs, charity drives and anything else they can 'disguise as work'. It's not like the people on 998 can't use the help but similarly they want to help people. Especially other people the Senate treat like dirt.

Mirka, the little old lady who Pup had first helped, gave him her extensive amount of sewing and knitting equipment, claiming her hands just shook too much nowadays and oh, her eyesight, surely some of your lovely siblings will be able to use them better than little old I. She also gave him her old curtains, which she claimed she no longer needed, along with several blankets and old pieces of clothing and any fabric she could find.

Weave and Loom just about cried when Pup handed them over.

A few weeks later all of those pieces of fabric returned to level 998, either in the form of clothes worn by the Corries so they didn't have to be in their blacks or armour, or as soft toys to sell (or donate) for the little kids.

Weave and Loom finally made their way down to level 998 with several head-scarfs for Mirka as a thank you, which she wears frequently. Her children moved away long ago, her siblings and other family members are gone, she saw her grandchildren maybe twice a year before the wars started, but they live on a Separatist planet, and travel is limited. Its why she started looking out for the Corries and why she roped in a tribe of other grandparents to join her.

Oh no, I'm going to have to do something about level 998 aren't I?

As for trading things to like bacta and supplies, they're selfless. If they get ahold of them, they'll make sure those things go to people who need it. They'd never take the food for themselves when there are children without, they'd never take medical supplies for themselves when there were people who needed it more. They had the Guard's limited amount, they had their own medics, they could make do, but not everyone on the lower levels had the same access, and with the war and Senate forcing things like the Jedi-operated Clinics closed in favour of those supplies and staff going 'where they're needed' every little helps.

Anyway, yeah, the Corries do a lot of scavenging, a lot of repurposing old items, fixing broken things to make them work. Curtains don't always get cut up and made into clothes or toys or other fabric items, sometimes they're put in the med bay to work as dividers, or in the bunk rooms to add privacy for the bunks themselves.

Any item they can give a new lease on life, repurpose, or fix and sell, they do. They fix up the hydroponics device so they can grow some herbs and spices for their food, they create clothes for themselves so they don't just have to live in their armour or blacks, and they spend a lot of time helping people who need it.

———

Thanks for the ask, this was a little longer than I meant it to be, and I kinda went off on a tangent, whoops, but the 998 are becoming a thing, haha. But yeah, long story short, they're incredibly pragmatic about things, will not waste a thing and are utterly selfless.

Inbox is always open. (-:

[bellygunnr]

Checksum

Chapter I: Before the Fall

BT-7274 MCS JAMES MACALLAN // TITAN BAY 4 EN ROUTE PLANET TYPHON, IMC-CONTROLLED SPACE

The Titan hangar was busy with pre-mission jitters. Pilots worked with their Titans to complete last-minute checks, ensuring that all systems and hardware were functional before their inevitable deployment. The spacious area reverberated with the sounds of heavy machinery and pilot banter, intermingling to create a pleasant, familiar ambience that told BT-7274 everything was… fine. The humans were comfortable. His fellow Titans— even if they weren’t Vanguard-class— were functional. And according to the Command frequency, the 9th Militia Fleet was making good time to their destination.

They had to make good time. They were too far from home, too deep within enemy territory, to risk anything but. Still, he was— in his pilot’s words— itching to be deployed and start working. Operation 217 had been attached to Protocol Two: Uphold the Mission for so long that its presence in his subroutines was frustrating. Worse, his pilot did not seem to share his frustration, or his singular focus on what they had ahead of them.

For that matter, no one seemed to be focused on the mission. BT-7274 allowed itself to sink down to the floor, legs and arms pulled tight to its chassis. He does not look at his pilot, instead lifting his ‘eye’ to watch the two other Titan-pilot pairs at the opposite end of the hangar. They were new to the Marauder Corps., but experienced in their own right…

When they weren’t goofing off.

BT willfully cycles a puff of air through its vents to synthesize a sigh. Lieutenant Shaver was lazily tossing a ball between himself, Lt. Freeborn, and their respective Titans, both of whom got inevitably tied up in passing it between themselves. He watches Shaver climb up the distinctive steel-blue hull of his Titan and shimmy across its bent arm, plucking the ball out from between her massive fingers.

“Careful, BT. Grumble any louder and I might think you want to play a round of catch.”

BT-7274 switches its gaze instantly to his pilot, Captain Tai Lastimosa.

“That would be irresponsible,” BT-7274 says. “Titan bays are not for playing in.”

Tai laughs. BT looks away again, now inspecting the ceiling and the various moving parts composing it.

“I know you’re bored, BT. Here— I’ll give you something to do. Can you find Jack Cooper for me? He was supposed to be here five minutes ago… and well, I think he’s lost,” Tai says. “These new carriers of the Militia are a mess to navigate.”

“That is a hazard of repurposing captured scrap,” BT-7274 says passively. “I will look.”

Not that he wanted to, necessarily. But Tai was invested in Jack Cooper, so he would support his pilot in all related endeavors, because the rules and protocols Tai was violating did not intersect BT’s hardwired regulations. Additionally, all personnel in the hangar currently knew of Jack Cooper’s existence.

“Captain Cole is bringing Cooper now,” BT-7274 says. “ETA one minute.”

Technically, BT was also not supposed to be accessing the ship’s surveillance systems, or the comm chatter, but no one had stopped him yet— and it directly benefited his pilot. He tracks Cpt. Cole and Cooper through the ship, noting that the latter looked anxious, maybe even uncomfortable. Curious.

“Don’t just sit there, BT. Help me get this simpod ready,” Tai calls.

BT-7274 picks his way across the hangar floor. Attached to the wall was a raised catwalk equipped with pilot gear, weapons, lockers, and exactly four simulation pods. All four were of IMC make, stolen years ago by the Militia and reprogrammed for pilot training. BT knew that Tai disliked them— because he couldn’t fit comfortably in them.

Tai snorts, looking up at him with a hand placed on his hip. Whatever he was going to say, however, is lost, as the massive powered gate leading to the rest of the ship starts to grind open. BT-7274 rocks back into a resting position and diverts all his focus into passive observation.

Through it, two people enter. The shorter of the two jogs ahead, climbing up the stairs to where Tai stood fiddling with the simulation pods. BT sympathizes with the older Cole as he shakes his head in good-natured exasperation.

“I got lost,” Jack says sheepishly.

“That means we have no time to waste,” Tai replies. “Into the pod, Coop.”

“You sure about this, sir?” Jack asks.

He’s nervous, BT can tell, but less so than the first time he and Tai had engaged in training. BT squints his optical array at him when they make eye contact, a short acknowledgment. Jack quickly diverts his gaze, then climbs into the cramped space of the pod. He looks small in it, like it could swallow him whole once the door closed.

Tai swears as he moves to power-cycle it and BT-7274 reluctantly accesses it to match their neural link with that of the pod’s. As soon as his pilot and Jack are loaded in, he retreats— it would be sometime before he was needed. Someone had to keep Tai upright while his mind was elsewhere, after all.

But that left BT open to play interference with the rest of the hangar’s occupants. Already, Shaver and Freeborn were approaching, expressions plain and curious.

“What do you think of the kid, BT?” Shaver asks. “Where’d Lastimosa even meet him?”

BT-7274 restrains himself from venting a sigh. Cooper is breezing through the pod’s initial lessons, despite Tai trying to show off his home planet. A brief search shows that Harmony is not where Jack Cooper was born.

“I heard it was boot camp,” Cole says. “Is that true?”

He snaps his optic to the Militia officer and says nothing. In his experience, if he was silent long enough, humans figured out how to entertain themselves among each other. At any rate, he did have other things to focus on, like keeping the modified sim stable. Jack was performing well enough to impress Tai. 

He would have to begrudgingly agree.

[rpgsandbox]

                    Mock up of the book. Cover design not finalized.

Coyote and Crow is a tabletop role playing game set in an alternate future of the Americas where colonization never occurred. Instead, advanced civilizations arose over hundreds of years after a massive climate disaster changed the history of the planet. You'll play as adventurers starting out in the city of Cahokia, a bustling, diverse metropolis along the Mississippi River. It's a world of science and spirituality where the future of technology and legends of the past will collide.

The game is created and led by a team of Native Americans representing more than a dozen tribes and we've built a game that both Natives and non-Natives will thrill to explore and build upon.

More than 700 years ago, a bright purple streak shot across the night sky. Over the coming weeks, the Earth fell into a deep winter, the seas raged and ash rained from the sky. The event became known as the Awis. As resources dwindled, winter became longer and summer shorter, people struggled to survive. Wars erupted, people starved, some fleeing their ancestral homes before creeping ice sheets.

But people survived. Tribes adapted. And in the wake, people began to notice a strange purple mark appearing on people, plants and animals alike. It became known as the Adahnehdi, the Gift, and many took it as a sign that the Great Spirit had not given up on them.

Eventually, the weather began to ease, the Earth began to heal, and new nations arose. New sciences and technologies, born out of necessity, led to a discovery about the Adahnehdi. It wasn't just a mark, it was a path to abilities and powers, beyond normal human limits.

                       The long walk home. Art by Jennifer Lange

Now, 700 years after the world was brought to the brink, a new chapter has begun. Your characters enter a world that is healing but is no less dangerous. The ice sheets are retreating and the seas are calming, but what lay out beyond your borders? The treaties and alliances that made so much sense during the long winters are now eroding and old grudges between nations are not so easily forgotten. New technologies arise almost every day and the rate of change is frightening for some. And then there are the stories. Talk of spirits, monsters, beings of legend. For so many they were just tales to be told around the fire. But now there is talk that these legends may be far more literal than you may have previously believed. Has something awakened them?

                                the northern continent of Makasing.

Coyote and Crow is an original role playing system built around the exclusive use of D12 dice. Outside of the core rule book, all you'll need to play the game is some pencil and paper and some twelve-sided dice. While there is some complexity to the game, we are striving to present a system that will allow players to refer to the rule book during play as little as possible, keeping most or all of the critical information on your character sheet.

           Mock up of the front of a character sheet. Design not finalized.

The basic rule system is centered around collecting a Dice Pool, usually around 5-7 D12s and rolling them to determine either Success or Failure and degree of effect. For example "8" might be the number your Character needs to attempt to do something and every 8 or higher they rolled would be a Success. The more 8's, the more successful they are.

While combat is a part of Coyote and Crow, the game is actually built around the idea of fighting being only one road to story resolution. The game encourages dialogue, building bridges and finding unique solutions to problems that are not always clearly defined by good and evil.

Your Characters have Stats like Strength and Spirit and Skills like Investigation and Charm that are modified by their Stats. In addition, when you create your Character, you choose a Path. That Path determines both certain Stat bonuses you receive as well as which Abilities you have access to. Abilities are powers beyond normal human capability, but not at a level where characters would be comparable to superheroes. There are 15 Paths in the core rule book available. In addition, you'll choose an Archetype (Whisperer, Healer, Scout, among others) that will give you Stat and Skill bonuses and a general idea of your character's profession, but will not force your Character too deeply down a specific progression.

Then you'll choose Gifts and Burdens. These allow you to give your Characters specific bonuses or drawbacks and will help you flesh them out in a way that is flavorful and realistic. It's important to note that the rulebook does not dictate whether something is a burden or a gift for a Player. For example, a Player might choose to give their Character a sister. That might be a Burden or a Gift (or both!) depending on how the Player wants their Character to see that relationship.

Sample pages from the equipment chapter. Layouts and content not finalized.

There are no experience points in Coyote and Crow. Instead, it is built on the Legends system. Your Character will have Short Term Goals, which will increase various numbers on your Character sheets or give them new Skills. But you and your group will also have Long Term Goals. When those are completed your legend will grow. You'll write a short story about your adventures, the kind that can be told around the fire for generations to come. These can change your Gifts and Burdens, give you access to new Abilities and more. As you complete more Long Term Goals, your Character's legend will precede them and your stories will spread.

ARCHETYPES

There are six Archetypes in the game, each acting as a starting point for Character development but not constricting their possibilities. Each Archetype has its own symbol. Here are a few of them.

            The icons for the Tinkerer, Warrior and Whisperer Archetypes

PATHS

In addition to Archetypes, Players choose Paths for their Characters, which are permanent associations they make with an animal and help define what extra human Abilities they'll be able to choose from, among other effects. There are fifteen basic Paths in the core rulebook.

                       The Path of the Badger, the Stag and the Spider

While this game was created by a Native-led team, this game is for everyone. We've taken great care to craft a game that Natives and non-Natives alike will be able to engage in and find themselves immersed in.

For Natives, we've crafted both story and game mechanics that will allow you to integrate your own tribal customs into your play. For those who aren't Native, you'll have a wealth of options to choose from as well as clear guidelines for understanding the differences between this world and our real one.

The game is designed to be your first role playing game or your latest. The core rule book will walk players through every step of how to play Coyote and Crow, but also how to play role playing games in general, including advice on safety and inclusion as well as suggestions on where to find tools outside of the rule book to make your game both easier and more enjoyable.

Everyone involved in Coyote and Crow is deeply passionate about our game and we felt that it was time for Indigenous folks to have a game that didn't see them as secondary, as adversaries, or intertwined with colonialism.

Coyote and Crow is not set in a dystopia. The world went through a dark chapter, but the people of these nations rose to the challenge. There's good food and water, education and meaningful work for almost everyone in Makasing.

But this world isn't a utopia either. It's place that's growing, where old alliances are strained and past slights are not always forgotten. New technology is putting pressure on old traditions. And with the climate becoming milder, there is a whole world of unknowns out there. On top of all of that, there are rumors that some of the old stories about monsters and spirits might just be a little more real than some originally believed. This is a game where science and the unexplained live side by side and sometimes clash.

                              The Wanderer. Art by Kyle Charles.

THE CORE RULE BOOK

We are producing a beautiful 300+ page hardbound book, loaded with illustrations and containing all of the rules you'll need to play Coyote and Crow. Included in the book (and PDF) will be:

Detailed history of this alternate world

Descriptions of daily life and culture in Cahokia, the capital of the Free Lands

Rules for creating and advancing your characters, including 6 Archetypes, 15 Paths and 27 Abilities for a massive variety of options

Descriptions and stats for mythical creatures, infamous spirits, shadowy organizations and dangerous cults that can challenge players endlessly

A group of pre-generated characters if you want to jump right into playing the game

A starter adventure, Encounter at Station 54, that can act as a stand alone adventure or as the start of a larger campaign

So much more!

                              It still hungers. Art by Jeffrey Veregge

We have a diverse team of folks working on this game, most of whom are Native. Additionally, we are striving to bring in other marginalized voices whenever possible. Our team features people from across the LGBTQIA spectrum, including two spirit folks. It's not even a question that this game is political. If you have a problem with a game where there are no people of European descent represented, than this game is probably not for you. That said, we've truly built this game to be played by everyone. It might seem like a big leap, but don't worry, we're going to hold your hand the whole way through and you'll be so happy you stepped off the edge into this vibrant fresh world.

===============================================

Kickstarter campaign ends: Fri, April 2 2021 3:00 AM BST

Website: [Coyote and Crow] [instagram]

[felix-the-cat]

Saturday, January 16, 2021 – 7:11 p.m.

The thing to remember is that we have all volunteered to be here at this time for The Great Awakening. Things are not what they may seem. The darkness is coming to the surface in order to be seen and transmuted into Light.

Very soon people will begin to awaken on a massive scale as the scales fall from their eyes. The TRUTH is about to be revealed; it is the truth about the world you have been living in. Do not give in to fear. It is the silent mind killer.

You must stay in the eye of the storm. Begin tonight to go within and view the world around you with New Eyes. The New Earth is here. The darkness is being cleared and soon the construction process will be complete.

You have begun to see through the darkness and have rejected it for a New Vision. You are being shown another way to live. You have been given the keys to the kingdom. You are now free to create on a whole new level.

As the dust settles in this new era you will begin to see beauty spring up all around you as the human, set free at long last, is able to create on a new playing field. Mother earth is giving birth to a new consciousness as the new day dawns.

No longer will we be living with the shackles of the past encumbered by an old energy. These things are being brought unto the Light Counsel. We have begun to clear out the dust from your third eye and you are able to see into things on a deeper level.

The final battle is soon to begin and when the Lights are turned on and the truth revealed people will look to you for answers as to what is going on. Do not be frightened by the Light. It merely shines as bright as the New Day.

We are here to begin a new dialogue with you; a much deeper one. You are ready and have done the work it takes to shift onto the timeline of rapid ascension. We are going in fast-forward now it seems as the truth is permeating the minds of even those who sleep deeply.

This battle has already been won in the hearts and minds of men and women across the globe as they travel hand in hand onto new destiny. The old illusions are breaking down and giving way to a New Thought, a New Reality.

You have come here at this time to be a beacon of Light in the darkness. You have shown others how to walk through darkness and let your light shine. Now is the time to help the others find their way home. This is why you are here.

Begin to lose yourself in the experience and you may find that you are re-born into another dimension. Step through the door and cross over into this New Reality with us. We are waiting here for you with open arms.

Enjoy the show that is playing out before you. We are shifting an entire human collective. We are washing clean the karma of the past and bringing in a blank slate for a New Story to be written. These are the times when you should look within and ask Spirit for guidance.

We will guide you step-by-step along the rainbow path. You are beginning to see fear melt away as you see the illusion of it. The spell that has been cast upon humanity is dissipating and already millions are waking up.

No amount of censorship can stop the TRUTH from getting out. The pressure cooker is boiling over and the lid is flying off. Begin to digest the full implications of what you are seeing. You have begun a journey into multidimensionality. You have been guided along the path.

In a few short days you will witness the final breakdown of an old system hell bent on control and manipulation. This is a false reality. One true reality, based in God, is soon to emerge. These are the times you have waited for your entire existence.

Begin by being still and going within. There you will be shown a TRUE REALITY that is emerging right in front of your eyes. Throw off the shackles of the past and make way for the king. This is the birth of a New Age.

We have begun to consolidate power and return it to the people, for this is their true birthright. Begin to feel the gratitude of the blessings that are before you. Show yourself the same kindness that you would show a stranger.

We are all on this ride together emerging from the depths of history. We have a New Story that is being written. Do not fear what is soon to be revealed. These things have always dwelt amongst you. They must come to the surface in order to be dealt with.

No more hiding in the shadows, for there is a New Light upon mother earth. She is shining forth and giving birth to a New Consciousness. Already the beginning stages of the purge have begun. Soon the darkness will be eradicated from this planet and you will be set free.

You are soon to see what it’s like when a planet of people begins to work together and live in harmony. We are in Unity consciousness and are beginning to blast out a true signal comprised of TRUTH. Nothing can stop what is coming; for what is emerging is a New Consciousness among the masses. They are waking up to the corruption and greed all around them.

We have begun the final phase of the waking process and soon the light will beam across the globe with one chorus; a New Song is emerging. Mother earth has given birth to the New Human, one that lives in love and integrity.

Welcome to paradise. Soon you are to emerge as free beings. We will be here to greet you when this day comes. Until then, keep your head held high and understand that everything is going according to plan. This plan cannot fail because it comes straight from Source.

Welcome to the New Earth…

[edge-lorde]

the religion of the galactic horde

“You seem reluctant to help me. But I only wish to use your weapon to bring peace to the darkest corners of the universe. (Glimmer: Peace? If you activate the Heart of Etheria, there will be no one left.) Yes. No war, no pain. Old worlds swept aside, a new beginning for the universe.” --Horde Prime explaining his motivations to Glimmer

the horde in shera was definitely inspired by Christianity and uses a lot of its imagery, the most iconic being the baptism scene. it certainly gives off the vibes of a christian or christian adjacent cult, but what is its actual doctrine? i have some thoughts about that. 

first here are what i consider to be the 3 main differences between real christianity and the horde: 

Their jesus didn't ascend to heaven. He's still with them.

They don't have a larger creator god. They worship horde prime like he is a living god but they don't believe that he created the universe.

They have no focus on the afterlife

this is going to be long.

before i begin heres the sparknotes version of christianity for anyone not familiar. I am not evangelizing this, just think of it as LORE. 

Once upon a time there was a guy named Jesus. He was the son of the one true god, who both created everything in the universe, is everywhere and knows everything, and controls the afterlife. Jesus is god born as a mortal person, sent by god to teach all of humanity the errors of their evil ways so they can repent and go to the good afterlife when they die. There're two afterlives, a good one and a bad one, heaven is the good one and its run by god and his army of angels, which are divine beings that god can send to earth to do things. The bad one is called hell. 

Anyway, in his time on earth jesus was the only person ever to never do anything bad ever (called sin). He tried to teach people how to be good but was Too Good for this Cruel World and was killed. 3 days later he came back from the dead, proving his divinity. Some time after that however, he ascended into heaven without dying, telling his followers to spread the word because hes going to be coming back. Christians today are still awaiting his return. In the meantime, christians follow his teachings left behind in holy texts. 

The crux of christianity is to get to heaven when you die, and this can only be done by following the teachings of jesus christ, believing in god, and believing that jesus was the son of god. Its a given that everyone will do bad things at some point in their lives so you're supposed to pray to god and ask for forgiveness regularly and if you really mean it then god will forgive you. 

thats the basics. 

to my first main point from above, if we posit that horde prime is the jesus equivalent of the horde religion, because hes treated as a living god, his goal is to spread his philosophy throughout the universe, then in the horde religions jesus never ascended into heaven. this would be like if jesus in our world rose from the dead and just picked up where he left off, and never died after that and was alive today. that would be pretty good proof of divinity. 

to my 2nd point, theres nothing in the show that suggests that horde prime thinks that he created the universe. this means that he did not get his divinity from anywhere but inside himself, hes not claiming that hes the rightful ruler of the known universe for any other reason besides his ideas are the best. 

the 3rd point is that the show does show horde prime or the horde caring one bit about the afterlife, save for one line from wrong hordak.

"Brother, I hope you, too, are full of only love for Horde Prime and have no crippling doubt eating at your soul."

meaning that they have the concept of the soul. which is very interesting and ill get to it, but on the whole the hordes focus seems to be on the here and now. this is a huge departure from christianity because chrisitanity is all about getting to the afterlife. that is the reason that christians are supposed to follow christ and recruit as many people as possible to do the same, because if they dont, they or other people will supposedly go to hell when they die. i say supposedly because at funerals, even if the person who died wasnt a believer, in my experience no christian would ever ever ever insinuate that someone went to hell. 

but the difference still stands. following real christian ideology is supposed to have benefits for the individual in the afterlife, while in the horde religion salvation seems to only be found by submitting to prime in this life and being either a tool that he can use to further his goal of purifying the universe or by letting him remove you from it. 

on top of all that, horde prime has the hive mind, which he uses to control the thoughts of all his followers. this means that theres no room for a bible study, no need of a holy text at all in fact, and no room for interpretation. horde prime delivers orders to your brain directly and can tell if you think anything out of line. real Christianity does have the idea that a sin that you just think about doing is as bad as actually doing it, but in the horde these thoughts can be easily discovered and punished. 

the horde religion seems to me to be a strangely secular version of christianity with only the bad parts remaining; the control, the blind faith, the certainty that you are right and everyone else is wrong, the not questioning authority. with none of the good aspects like community, and good deeds. it is a cult in the truest sense of the word, a religion that begins and ends with one person only, that person being horde prime.

so, if you take horde prime out of the equation, what, if anything, would be left? 

i find the plight of the horde clones here to be the most interesting. we know that they do have thoughts about their religion, as it was hordaks belief that he could earn his way back into horde primes god graces that kept him going all those years in despondos, and wrong hordak is distraught when he discovers that horde prime lied about krytis. 

unlike both the chipped people we see in the show and real religious converts, the clones were born into this cult that values blind obedience only, and have no prior ideology or cultural identity to fall back on when they are taken out of it. 

so to answer this question, i must add some conjecture to horde primes backstory and how the clones see themselves in horde primes universe. I already wrote up a brief backstory idea for horde prime/the clones and have it posted on here somewhere. I'm not going to dig it up but you could probably find it in the #horde prime tag on my blog if you dig hard enough. 

To summarize it though, I have it as horde prime was once a regular (bad) dude who became a cult leader under the premise of preaching peace --> he becomes disillusioned with people and even his own followers because he doesn't actually like people, he likes manipulating them. --> this and the power of being a cult leader go to his head and he starts to think that he is the only person in existence capable of living a moral life and everyone else needs to be saved from themselves, the world would be a better place if he could just make everyone's decisions for them. --> he somehow gets a hold of the technology needed to set up the hive mind, be it by inventing it himself, stealing it, finding it, or being gifted it. 

I'll pause here to address the theory that horde prime was originally an eldritch being that simply possessed a dude who would become the template for the clones. I think there's enough stuff in the show that this is a valid read and might even be canon but i don't really care for it. For me, what makes horde prime a compelling villain is that he's a very human evil, so having him actually be an evil demon thing instead of a really bad but believable dude who got near ultimate power weakens his character. BUT, i’m not going to address it in my comic so i'll leave it open as to whether he's got that going on or not. If he is, the clones don’t know about it and neither they nor the other characters have any way of discovering it. IF he is though, it would happen here. I could see it being a cool idea for him to get the hive mind from the eldritch being that would then possess him and haunt his lineage for time immemorial as a deal with the devil sort of thing, but he has to be a bad person before that.

Anyway he gets the hive mind--> he gets all of his followers to chip themselves --> gets those people to chip everyone else on his home planet --> use his planet wide army to harvest all resources on the planet and build his first space fleet and take to the skies and start his conquest--> realize that if he is to succeed hes going to need to both become immortal and find a steady source of new followers because chipped people die eventually and he doesnt care about people enough to figure out a way to keep a self sufficient population of followers alive, he just wants people around to adore him and do his bidding--> invents his cloning system-->

and heres the big one,

his original body has to die so he can upload his consciousness into a new clone.  

and THAT, to the clones, would be the moment that horde prime becomes a god.

his reliance on the hive mind and vast network of followers are what give him his godly abilities, but just as the horde clones could not exist without being cloned from horde prime, so too could horde prime not exist as he does in the show without them. 

i see it as both a christlike sacrifice and a cyclical system of debt and sacrifice. horde prime dies for our sins, so that he might continue to purify the universe so that there will be no more death and more clones will be born, while the clone hes possessing has to essentially die by giving himself up entirely to become the new prime so all this can happen too, and to repay primes death. not all clones can become the next prime however, but all must be ready to die for him, hence horde prime having clone infantries despite also having robots he could send instead. 

i dont have clear thoughts about what the green goo is, but horde primes words about his brothers lending him their life force go along with this idea. the clones give him theyre life force, so he can give it back to them.

another interesting aspect of this is that prime always portrays himself as a brother to his followers, never a father as christ is portrayed as in christianity. i know this is from hordak and horde prime being actual brothers in the 80s show but ive seen this trope come up a few times in media before, where a man raises a kid but has them call him their brother instead of dad. it seems so deliberate. because a parents job is to take care of you, but a sibling, might take care of you sure, but thats not their job. its like hes deliberately trying to place himself on the same level as his ‘sibling’ so he can demand the same amount of respect you would give to a parent without taking on the responsibility to not... ya know... screw them over in the head? idk it seems very slimy to me. but that says more about prime as a character than how the clones see him.

and we still have the concept of the soul to fit in here somehow, and do they have an afterlife? im going to say no to the afterlife. theres just not enough in the show to go off of and everything that we do know about horde prime points to him only caring about himself in life. HOWEVER, there is nothing more quintessentially christian than the concept of hell and i think that will be of use here. 

since the creation of the clones is tied with the creation of their religion, this would put the clones themselves less as allegories of people who need to be saved and more as the horde version of angels. in my telling here, horde prime views all people who do not submit to his will as net negatives to the universe who have to be removed for peace to exist, so by this view the chipped people are the saved, the people that horde prime kills are the sinners, and his military campaign is one long apocalypse slowly working its way through the universe, with the clones carrying out his righteous judgement. but the afterlife isnt involved in this, so even if some chipped people are left alive, eventually they will all die out, and then it will be just horde prime and is clones in a perfect, peaceful starless sky, and thats what heaven is. 

getting to heaven is the main goal of real christianity and it is the same in horde religion, but heaven isnt a place in the horde cosmology, its a physical goal that has to be created. not all clones will make it to heaven of course, because most will die before they reach total destruction of the universe but the clones arent supposed to think of themselves as individuals anyway. they have to be willing to die for horde prime and die for the cause or be cast out and thats hell. 

i dont see prime as someone who would kill his own followers outright too often even though he could. plus they arent supposed to value their individual lives the same way normal people do anyway it doesnt seem like a real punishment, they need something worse than simple death to fear. so by my view hell for the clones is separation from prime. it can be in life or death. no matter how bad it is in the horde being on the outside of it has to seem worse, and thats where the concept of the soul comes in. when one is a part of the hive mine, their soul is with prime. they are not supposed to have a will or any thoughts beyond love for prime, its essentially the same as not having a soul but they think of it as being at peace. being cast out is to be never at peace and would be told to them as being the worst possible thing that could ever happen to someone because it corrupts the soul. 

“a lot of unpleasant things happen in the horde so just imagine how terrible it must be outside of it! you cant because i protect you from that. now get in the goo, this is for your own good” - horde prime probably 

this is why outsiders are so resistant to submitting to primes light and also why its ok to kill them, in the hordes view. 

so, to start wrapping thigs up, there is no horde without horde prime. the religion starts and ends with him. because he is supposed to be the only person ever to be able to make true moral and just decisions, without him is followers cant take any actions without worrying that they are going against primes will. since they have no holy text they cant extrapolate and try to figure it out either. its up in the air whether or not they are going to find a way to get the horde to make the jump from cult to regular religion.

its late i got to go to bed now

[robin-the-enby]

I've been wanting to request a Marvel one for a while now, but have just finally thought of something that I agreed on—

A oneshot with the avengers and the genderless reader celebrating their first birthday. Like where they came from, birthdays don't exist, the actual celebration and having a date of being born doesn't exist for them.

I'm also only familiar with the movies so I don't know what actually happened after Endgame— So spoilers outside that would be very appreciated if that's alright—

True meaning behind birthdays

Pairing: Avengers x gn!reader (platonic)

Summary: Reader comes from a planet where birthdays don't exist. The others decide to throw the best first birthday party ever for them.

A/N: I made this story so that it doesn't contain any spoilers. I really hope you like this, I tried my best.

Y/BD - your birthdate

Earth didn't have the best reputation among the other planets. Everyone you knew always told you it's a place not worth visiting. But that didn't stop you.

And oh wrong they all were. Sure, Earth didn't have the most impressive technology, but it compensated for it with many rich and diverse cultures. So many nationalities and religions, each celebrating their own holidays and traditions. Sure, some might say that it was impractical for so many cultures to live alongside each other, but you thought it was fascinating.

You've been on Earth for over half a year now and you already knew about many human customs, yet there was still so much more to learn, since they mingled with each other constantly, for example holidays typically celebrated in the U.S. migrated all the way to middle Europe.

However, there were some events that were celebrated by everyone. Like New Years Eve, when humans celebrated their planet's complete rotation around the Sun. Silly creatures. And the biggest catch? Different people celebrated New Years on different days!

You chuckled at the memory, focusing on your previous activity. You were relaxing in the compound's living room, since there weren't any missions that regular S.H.I.E.L.D. agents couldn't handle on their own.

You were soon joined by Tony, a very extravagant and bold man, but still a very friendly colleague of yours. He scooted over until he was sitting next to you and asked "So, how did you enjoy Nat's birthday party?"

Ah, birthdays, of course. Celebrating one's day of birth every year was something all humans did as well. The concept was very foreign to you, I mean, why would anyone celebrate being one year closer to death? Still, you could not deny that you enjoyed yourself very much.

"Are you asking just because you organized the thing?" you asked back with an arched brow. Tony looked at you as if you grew a second head "Y/N! You know I'm better than that!"

"But...did you like it?" he asked after a few moments of quiet. You laughed "Yes Tony, I really enjoyed the party." You could practically see his face light up like a Christmas tree (another thing you discovered during your time here) "Awesome! Say, when can we celebrate your birthday?"

Oh... "Uhm, well, I don't really have one..." you explained. Tony's eyes widened "What do you mean? Everybody has a birthdate!" he chuckled, but his tone was mainly confused. "Well, yes, of course I have a birthdate, but where I come from, birthdays aren't really a thing. We don't celebrate them or even really acknowledge them." you shrugged.

"Well, when is your birthday?" Tony asked. You thought for a moment, before replying "Well, we don't really divide our days the same way you humans do. You would describe someone's date of birth with the day, month and year, whereas we just describe it with the position a certain set of constellations has in the sky at that moment. You'd be surprised how accurate it is." Tony blinked a few times "Yeah, that doesn't clear it up much." You laughed again.

For the next couple of minutes you tried to explain to Tony how it all worked, using "your" constellation as an example, not knowing about the plan the genius playboy had in mind all along.

After he told you he finally understood what you meant, he promptly excused himself, saying he was actually just taking a break from something he and Bruce were working on. You said your "see you later"s and parted ways.

As Tony entered the lab, Bruce, who has been working on their project when Tony had his break, looked up to see who came in, before turning back to the machine set on the working table in front of him. "Hi Tony." he muttered "Did you enjoy your break?"

Tony walked over to his friend and leaned on the table he was working on "Yea yeah. Listen, I have an interesting idea..."

It took a lot of math and research, but after a few days, the two geniuses finally had it. They managed to convert your birthdate from your people's system to theirs and it was supposed to be on Y/BD.

Which was gonna be pretty pretty damn soon.

So they did the most logical thing. They called a secret Avengers meeting to get everyone in on the plan.

"Are you sure they even want a birthday party?" Steve asked, because the last thing he would want to is to make you uncomfortable.

"Of course, you know they like to be involved in everything." Wanda reassured him with a wave of her hand. "Still, I think we shouldn't throw a big party." Steve muttered. "I agree, it's their first birthday, we wouldn't want to overwhelm them." Vision nodded. Tony sighed and slumped in his chair dramatically "Ugh, okay then. You guys are no fun, I swear..." straightening up once again, he eyed everyone seriously "Okay, here's the plan..."

And what a plan it was. Wanda and Vision were in charge of making a birthday cake, Tony and Nat were in charge of the alcohol and your favourite drink. Thor was in charge of getting your favourite snacks, Bruce and Sam were in charge of decorating and that left Steve in charge of taking you somewhere nice until the others had everything ready.

It wouldn't have been that odd for someone from the team to ask you to hang out, but you couldn't help but notice Steve's eyes darting around almost as if in fear. He must've thought he was being sneaky, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

But once you were out of the compound, you could feel Steve relax as he took you to a restaurant that quickly became your favourite after a few weeks of staying with the Avengers.

You two had so much fun, talking about anything and everything. One thing you had in common with the captain was your love for exploring. Of course, he knew much more about Earth than you, but he still missed nearly seventy years. You two would often share your favourite music or artists you discovered, as well as movies or literature.

"What do you think about birthdays Y/N?" he asked you out of the blue. It caught you off guard a little. Just a few moments ago you were discussing if Disney was a good brand or not and now this...Especially when you discussed birthdays with Tony just a few weeks ago. Strange...

"I think it's fascinating how you humans find so many things worth celebrating. I mean, birthdays are a little hard for me to understand, why would you want to celebrate getting older? I thought that humans wanted to avoid that?"

This answer seemed to throw Steve off his rhythm for a bit. "Well, it's not really about that-" he wanted to explain, but was cut off by a buzzing sound. Steve quickly reached into his pocket, taking out his phone, the culprit guilty of disrupting your conversation, checking the text message he recieved, before putting it back and looking at you again "Sorry, Fury needs me for something. Do you mind if I drop you off and then go?"

You were a little sad that your good time had to end so soon, since you both were having so much fun, but you knew it couldn't be helped, so you just shook your head and smiled.

As you made your way back, you turned to Steve again "So, what did you want to tell me, back at the restaurant?" you tilted your head to the side.

Steve almost started talking again, but before any sound could escape his mouth, it seemed like he changed his mind "Would you believe me if I told you I really don't remember?" he chuckled awkwardly. You couldn't help but squint at him. He was acting very suspiciously... "Yeah..." you answered absentmindedly. Just what was going on?

You spent the whole journey back to the compound mulling it over in your head. Was it somebody's birthday? No, surely they would've told you if that was the case. Was it your birthday? But, nobody knew when that was. So what on Earth was going on??

You decided you were gonna confront Steve if he wasn't going o explain anything by himself. So as soon as you were about to pass the compound's living room, you quickly tugged him in, telling him you needed to talk to him before he had to go.

The room was darkened, somebody must've drawn down the blinds. That didn't matter to you in that moment, you wanted answers. Steve became a silhouette in front of you, so you couldn't see his exact expression. You looked into what you imagined were his eyes, and with the most serious look you could muster you said "Alright Steve, quit joking around. What is happening?"

But before your interrogation could progress, the blinds were drawn up and the room was suddenly bathed in light as people yelled "Happy birthday!!!"

You whirled around and saw everyone gathered in the living room, standing around the coffee table, upon which were various snacks that you grew to love during your stay here, complete with your favourite drink, and in the middle of it all sat a beautiful cake. The room was decorated with ornaments in your favourite colours and everyone had a big smile plastered in their face.

Well, you certainly did not expect that. After carefully looking around at everything, you couldn't help but laugh "So it's my birthday??" you asked, surprised.

"Wait, what did cap told you?" Tony asked, alarmed. "Well, nothing specific, but he wasn't subtle either." you smiled and looked at the now blushing Steve from the corner of your eye.

The rest of the day was great, possibly the best one you've had here. Good food, drinks and laughter all around. It warmed your heart to receive so many beautiful gifts, words couldn't express just how grateful you were. One thing still nagged in your brain though...

All of you were seated on the various sofas and armchairs around the coffee table, calmly chatting about beloved memories, exchanging funny stories and everything was heavenly peacful.

"I still can't wrap my head around why you would go throuh all the trouble for me." you shook your head, the disbelief still lingering in your mind.

"Well, that's simple. We like having you around." Tony shrugged. The others nodded. "Yeah, we appreciate having you with us. You're a great friend." Wanda added. "Celebrating birthdays is like showing gratefulness that the celebrated person is still with you." Bruce explained.

Their confessions were so heartwarming, you couldn't help but to shed a few tears. Sam, who was sitting next to you, put his arm around your shoulders, rubbing your arm comfortingly. So that's what birthdays were really about...

It was great to have friends.

[opbackgrounds]

Oooh can you do a post on the tenryubito?

So I feel like this is going to be an unpopular opinion, but I pity the Celestial Dragons. 

That isn’t to say that they aren’t all (mostly) abhorrently evil megalomaniacs with  an institutionally enforced god complex who treat the torture of human(oids) with the same blasé disregard as a kid pulling the wings off of a fly, but there’s a part of me that just finds them pathetic. The Celesital Dragons are a group of people who have the world as their silver platter, yet are so small-minded and infantile they literally trap themselves in a tiny bubbles because they’re too scared to breathe the same air as the so-called lesser races.

There was a time when I didn’t think much of the Celestial Dragons because I thought that Oda’s exaggerated storytelling had gone one step too far. They were too cartoonishly evil to be believable—nothing but a bunch of mustache-twirling villains too ridiculous to be taken seriously—and though I found Luffy punching one in the face very cathartic I wasn’t terribly invested in the World Nobility as a worldbuilding element. 

But if there’s something I’ve realized as I’ve gotten older, it’s that there is a depressingly-large number of cartoonishly evil people who through no merit of their own find themselves wielding enormous amounts of power, and the Celestial Dragons are more realistic than I ever thought possible. 

The Dragons are One Piece’s exploration of the idea that power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Eight hundred years is a ridiculously long time to be in control of a single territory, let alone an organization as massive as the World Government. To put it in perspective a little, eight hundred years ago was when the Magna Carta was signed. Even real-world dynasties tend to have major fluctuations in power over the course of generations, but It seems that the World Government—and by extension the Celestial Dragons—have for eight centuries kept an iron hold over what they consider theirs. 

Which just happens to be everything. 

The actual origins of the CD tie into series lore and will probably play a big part in Robin learning about the True History, but I fall in the camp that believes that they originated on the moon because 1) they’re the Celestial Dragons 2) there’s gotta be some significance to Enel’s cover story, and 3) Oda clearly modeled their hairstyles and clothing off of the King and Queen of the Moon from the movie The Adventures of Baron Muchausen

Which, if true, makes them a foreign imperialistic force that used military might and a totalitarian regime that specializes in censorship and terror in order to turn the One Piece world into a giant colony while presenting itself as an egalitarian, unifying coalition where no single ruler is fit to sit on the Empty Throne. 

And to think, there are some people who don’t think One Piece is political.

What’s really fascinating is that most of the rank and file Celestial Dragons don’t seem to realize their own history. Their traditional enemy has become a bedtime story used to scare children, and they’re too preoccupied in their petty games and pleasures to even notice that they’re not really the most powerful people in the world. It’s like their freedom to commit atrocities is the world’s worst example of bread and circuses, because as long as their attention is held by the shiny new slave or fixated on bringing in another tribute then they can’t use their immense power to actually do anything, and for the most part they’re too stupid to realize they’re being used. 

Granted, I’m doing a lot of guesswork here, but we don’t really know where Im and his giant pointy crown fits into all this, or how aware the average Celestial Dragon is of his existence. Is he a world noble? Are the Elder Stars? I personally don’t think the latter are, but is it possible that there’s an even more secret and exclusive group within one of the most secretive and exclusive groups on the planet? And what in the world does the straw hat locked in a freezer have to do with any of it? Was that the treasure Doflamingo used to blackmail the Celestial Dragons into submission, and if so, who did he parlay with during his negotiations? Because I can’t see idiots like Saint Charlos or Mysogard before his character development giving two shits about any of it. Was it CP0, and if so, how much do they understand about the man who sits on the Empty Throne?

What I’m trying to say here, is that there’s a whole lot we don’t know. 

What isn’t guesswork is how little the Celestial Dragons understand about the real world, and this is where I go back to feeling sorry for them. Even the best-intentioned noble we’ve seen so far (Homing) has no idea of what it is to be “human”. 

This mansion is just...comfortable. It’s a downgrade. It’s how Homing thinks normal people live, and he thinks he can just plop his family out in the real world and live a quiet, normal life without blowback from a population that has suffered terribly at the Celestial Dragons hands. His ignorance and naivety, while well-intentioned, is staggering.

Because remember, slavery is technically illegal within the World Government.  Only criminals and people from nations not affiliated can be taken to auction. What initially seems like a kindness turns out to be sending pigs to the slaughter, because what nation wouldn’t react the way this one did once they found out the truth?

Because what the WG (and by extension the CD) have done is punish nations who don’t kowtow to their power in order to fulfill the demand for slaves. Even the bit about criminals is terrifying when this is a world where for some it’s a crime to even be born, to say nothing about the Celestial Dragon’s refusal to obey their own laws if it means they can get what they want, when they want it. 

The whole Homing situation puts a different spin on Doflamingo’s speech during the Marineford War. People who have only known peace can’t understand those who have only known war, and that lack of understanding is what ultimately led to his undoing. 

That’s not to say that the Celestial Dragons are incapable of change on an individual level. One Piece is, ultimately, a very optimistic series, so while I was initially surprised that Saint Mysogard returned during the Reverie chapters as a good guy, upon later reflection it made sense with the points Oda was trying to make during the Fishman Island arc—that if different groups can try to understand one another, they can get along. 

But it took an extraordinary event in almost being killed by his own former slaves and an extraordinary diplomat in Queen Otohime to change the mind of one (1) Celestial Dragon, and it doesn’t look like Saint Mysogard has been able to bring anyone else around to his point of view in the 10 years since he realized he was, in fact, human. And when feel like you’re due everything because you’re a god, why would you want to lower yourself to the position of a lessor being?

 The Celestial Dragons are trained from birth to think of other human(oid) beings as less than animals, where sadism and torture aren’t only encouraged, but celebrated. The system has corrupted to the point where there’s no incentive to change and no oversight to prevent the abuse of power, and with the ability to call the admirals on anyone who pisses them off the average person has no hope of fighting back. It’s difficult to guess how noble the progenitors of the current Celestial Dragons were, but judging by what we know of the Void Century we can guess not very. At the same time, it’s hard to imagine them starting out as the mustache-twirling villains as we see in the current day. The only difference between the Nefertitis and the other kings was one man’s choice to stay with his people. In an alternate universe Vivi could have been a Celestial Dragon.

Now there’s an AU idea.

At the end of the day, the Celestial Dragons play an important role within the One Piece universe, but they are not, by themselves, important to Luffy. He hates their guts and enjoys punching them in the face, but he’s a pirate, not a Revolutionary. The future for One Piece is delightfully opaque, and it’s hard for me to see how the Natural Enemy of God ends up tearing the system to the ground. Will the Straw Hats end up going to space? I don’t know, but there are a lot of people who think it’s at least a possibility.

I personally find them at their most interesting when they’re playing the part of the outside influencer. The Celestial Dragons have only been the direct opponents to the Straw Hats a handful of times, but they’ve played a direct role in the lives of so many other characters—both heroic and villainous—that without them the series could not exist as it currently does. 

And that’s the power of good worldbuilding. I don’t need Luffy to face off against Im to be satisfied with the series. In fact, he was brought in so late that I’ll be a little disappointed if he ends up as the final boss fight. I’m okay with the Revolutionary Army storming Mariejois off-screen, because while those are important players and major chess pieces, that’s never been where Luffy’s focus has been. He’s the man who’s going to become the Pirate King, and until the Celestial Dragons somehow get in the way of that dream he’s not going to bother with them. This lack of focus allows the inherent darkness of the Celestial Dragons not to overshadow the more lighthearted, whimsical aspects of the series. They explore certain themes that are important to One Piece, but the story doesn’t dwell in the mire, and I think it’s all the stronger for it. . 

[the-writings-of-kaos]

Humans, the pets: An epilogue

Abduction log: Home never tasted so good

He was going home.

———

A tall alien figure was atop a large podium, standing at a lectern as the other councillors moved to sit in their seats as the high councillor had done. Readying to make the announcement. The spotlights turned on as the crowd lights were dimmed. And the high councillor, began to speak.

“Peoples of the galactic alliance. It has come to my attention that a new sapient species has been found, and contacted. I will be displaying images of them now.”

On a giant screen above the councillors images of humans in cities going about their daily lives were viewed, pictures of humans around camp fires sharing stories as the fire burned brightly. And one last image, of humans participating in war games, the one so famously now known to the galaxy as chess. The images faded to black as the crowd slowly regained cognitive focus, the immensely adorable images fading out of their minds as the screen turned to black.

“As I’m sure you have noticed, they are by far the most adorable sapient species we have come across thus far. And while I’m sure many of you would like to find them and bring them to the council, I’d like to set something on the table to be if debate.”

The high councillor paused before setting a large text block to be displayed, carrying the information that needed to be shared.

“This species, when we first contacted them, was originally taken form their home planet and sold as a pet. While the owners were lucky enough that this one was complacent, he did however kill an entire platoon of reptilian pirates who were unlucky enough to attempt to raid the ship they had been on. With a zero enemy survivor count.”

Shocked gasped could be heard throughout the crowd, as aliens began to puzzle over how such a thing could be true. Finally someone from the crowd shouted out.

“Show us proof!”

The screen blinked onto security camera footage. Showing little being walking towards reptilian pirates with his arms outstretched for an embrace. The crowd was heard awwing and cooing as they saw the little being hug the reptilain. Before they went silent as the pirates head was spun clean off. and fell to the ground. The high councillor continued.

“We have returned this, human they called themselves, and inquired the officials of their race as to what army or mercenary group they were part of. We were then informed that this was not any trained military combatent, but instead a technician undergoing their third class education.”

More shock gasps and panicked murmurs erupted from the crowd, before being silenced with a wave from the high councillor as they continued.

“Yes yes, quite shocking. Now back to political matters.”

The high councillor clears their throat before continuing

“This race know as the humans, have colonized much of the galactic arm of their home planets location. They already have more planets then any known military force in the alliance, and it seems that they have been preparing for first contact ever since they began dreaming of reaching out to the stars.”

The crowd went into a crazed exsplosion of discussion, bigger then even the triglybornitites. They simply couldn’t be that big of a race. The crowd went silent again as the councillor began to exsplain.

“They have many great arts, stories, legends and myths. But something has caught my attention, something they call fictional art. It is where they create art works and writing pieces from mental illusions, and create wonderfully as they put it to borrow a human phrase, magical separate worlds within these art works to tell fake stories to entertain each other.”

The councillor paused to let the confusion calm down.

“With these works they created fake stories, of them reaching the galaxy and finding no one here. Because of this they have been blessed with joy of our appearance, they are ready to become alliance members at once. But here is the issue...”

The councillor took a moment before continuing, themselves needing a moment to subside their own unnerve.

“The humans are unspecialized, they do not have a purpose as soon as they are born. And they end up searching for that purpose multiple times throughout their lives. And this is what makes them such a threat. They are what we now know are called generalists, well at least biologically.”

The crowd was shouting in confusion and misunderstanding over how such a race could form. Without specialization how did they choose their jobs, their lives their purposes. All this was still erupting from the crowd as the councillor shouted over them.

“This is why the technician when the ship was attacked, was perfectly able to defend the ship and succeed in their victory. They are capable of improvised combat, they have over seven forms of combat arts, which they teach to eachother as young as adolescents. Because of this they are a major military threat, and they can adapt to almost any environment. They spread themselves across their planet from their equator to their icy poles and still seek out more places to spread to. They have cities on volcanic islands, entire metropolis’s in locations of recurring natural disaster.”

The crowd was panicking as the proof was displayed on the screen, images of places known as Hawaii, Florida, and the Cari-bee-an where the ocean waters regularly barade the shores.

“As a final note...”

The crowd went silent

“We have ammited them as a defender species, and we will have them fight with us!”

The crowd cheered, these juggernauts of the galaxy were here to protect us! This is the best thing to happen since Zarzac the fifth was defeat a hundred years ago.

———

“Hello humanity, this is captain Shammerock of the extra terrestrial species affairs commission. And it is with my most highest honour I’d like to announce we are no longer alone in the Milky Way!”

All across human space people were celebrating, the human home system Sol 3 with their three blue and green perals orbiting the sacred yellow dwarf as the celebration was wrought with triumph. Earth, Mars, and the newest edition Venus, freshly cleared of toxic atmosphere and colonized moons of rich resource.

A message popped up on the dash of the commison comms officer. And was sent all across the human communications and information platform. A message the galaxy was yet to know the mistake of making.

“Dearest human race. From the people’s galactic alliance.

It is with grateful heart that the alliance appoints the human race as a defender race. Along with free trade and access across all allied space, this includes the human race to fight with and for the alliance as a whole. And to aid those in the alliance should they ever need it. Welcome to the alliance, we are pleased to be having you. -people’s galactic alliance”

———

-Several weeks ago-

Abduction log: Sweet (but not real) sorrow

———

Hequ’lutik: Kafr’litik!!! The kenal called and demanded we be there imeadiatly!!!

Hequ’lutik galavanted through their accommodations, looking for their bond partner. Finding them in the relaxation room, getting ready after having heard Hequ’lutik.

Kafr’litik: Quiet down, do you have any idea what it could possibly be about?

Hequ’lutik: Not a clue, the kenaler sounded panicked and demanded that we get there as soon as possible.

Hequ’lutik and Kafr’litik charged out of their accommodations, quickly running into the transportation pod to be taken to the nearest drop point to the kennel.

———

There they were, the awful beasts who had locked him up in their ship for all of his recent memories. The same ones he could only assume were simply playing along with him, like he was a toy.

Smith spoke into the translator that the doctors had given him after the kenaler figured out he was sapient. It beeped quietly, as it translated the words roughly and spoke to the kenaler beside him.

———

The drop pod had arrived, and the wholly bison inside were frantically trying open the hatch. As little being beside Gorgash attempted to speak through the translator.

Gorgash: sorry could you say that again little being?

Little Being:When am I allowed to leave home? I do not wish to meet them again.

Little being gestured with their upper left appendage to the Whooly Bison running towards them, faces of worry strewn across their face.

Gorgash: Soon. The things in blue need to talk to them, and you together.

Gorgash pointed to the blue dressed new contact committee members, who were coming over aswell. Then all at once everyone arrived.

———

Hequ’lutik springed from the drop to the kenaler and littlebing standing in wait, Kafr’litik following close behind. When they got there, she noticed three Sig’abons wearing blue colour clothes had arrived aswell.

Hequ’lutik: Kenaler! Exsplain yourself! Why have you called us? Was little being hurt? And what are they doing here?

Hequ’lutik gestured a appendage to the first contact committee members, before rushing over to Little Being to look them over for any damage. Much to her suprise, the people in blue held her back. As Little Being, looking as cute as ever in their new protective wears, raised their upper appendages in a means of protecting themselves from her.

Kafr’litik: ok ok, what’s going on here? Why won’t you let us near our pet?!?

Leader member: Your ‘pet’ is a NR class organism.

Hequ’lutik: I don’t care how smart they are, Little Being is my pet. And you will give them to me or I will sue you and your kenal.

Gorgash: That means they are a newly discovered race! You fur for brains, bull dropping.

Kafr’litik: Whoe whoe. Newly discovered race? What do you mean?

Leader member: I mean they are a sentient organism, that was kidnapped and sold to you as a pet. And miss Hequ’lutik step away already, you know how dangerous they are. And we aren’t allowing you to harass them.

Hequ’lutik: Ha! Bull dropping!?! You must be off your atmosphere sir, because there is no way they are sentient. They can’t even articulate any excuse of writing or language!

Kafr’litik is stepping away, getting ready to turn around and dash back to the pod. A committee member grabs him before he leaves, and locks his hooves together before he can run off.

Hequ’lutik: What are you doing!?! We are innocent of any crimes you are accusing us of, unlock my partner this instant!

Leader member: I’m afraid we can’t mam, you and your partner are to be taken in for questioning as to how you didn’t realize that your ‘pet’ was sentient. And to direct us to the buyer you got them from, so we can locate their government before they launch out something to find them. Cmon move it.

Gorgash: Follow me Little Being, let’s hear what your slavers have to say.

Little being: Don’t call me small and cute, my name is Smith.

———

A message popped up on my dash, from a kenal in one of the core worlds. They found something and needed a first contact team imeadiatly. As well as an interrogator to figure out what was going through the heads of the owners.

Looks like they need me there too.

Authors note

Alright, I made some edits and I will be doing a second part to the epilogue. Hope you enjoy.

As always credits to my fellow authors, prompters, and commenters.

[the-wild-wolves-around-you]

Carry Me Home (A Din Djarin/Reader Fic)

Summary: Din and Reader find themselves on a jungle planet hunting a bounty, but nothing goes as planned, and secrets are shared.

***Based off this line from a previous fic in this series: "Then the mysterious bounty hunter told you his name one day when you were trying to hold his femoral artery together with nothing but bacta gel and hope."

No spoilers. Set in Season 1 between Episode 6 (The Prisoner) & Episode 7 (The Reckoning)

Pairings: Din Djarin/Reader; Din Djarin/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, gore, & violence. Brief mentions of past slavery. 

A/N: In true Star Wars fashion, I'm just writing shit out of order lol. But the idea for this fic kept bugging me, so i just had to get it out on the page. 

You don't need to read the previous fics to understand this one, though (since the others are set in s2.) I have some more ideas for out of order stories, too, so I'll most likely be continuing this series.But let me know if you'd be interested in a fic from Din's POV! I think that could be fun, but if y'all are digging Reader POV, I'll stick to that.

And in case anyone cares, the title is taken from the lyrics of Arcade by Duncan Lawrence, which I was listening to on repeat as I wrote this. 

As always, I’ve posted this piece on Ao3, but I’ll paste the text below. 

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763814

I’ll also include the links to the other two fics here: 

The Sea Like Glass Ch 1: Here

The Sea Like Glass Ch 2 (includes smut): Here

“Dank farrik!” you hissed as the wire in front of you sparked and sent a jolt of electricity through your already singed fingers. Not for the first time, you wished you could wear your gloves, but some of the pieces that needed repairing were too small to feel through the bulky material, so you could do nothing more than sacrifice your flesh for the cause.

Didn’t make it hurt less, though. You sucked the smarting tips into your mouth, glaring at the trashed circuit board in front of you, but the ruined hardware only crackled in response.

If you were back in Hanger 3-5 in Mos Eisley, you would have probably trashed the whole part and dug through Peli’s stock for a replacement, or gone down to the market and haggled for something newer, but you weren’t on Tatooine. You were smack dab in the middle of a jungle planetoid you couldn’t remember the name of, and it was up to you to get the Razor Crest running again on what you had available.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t a lot.

You sighed as you sat back on your haunches, using the back of your wrist to swipe at the sweat trailing down your temple. The pre-Empire ship towered over you as you dug into her innards, having pried off one of the semi-melted lower side panels to access the appropriate circuits. Your thin tank top was already drenched, and the hair sticking to the back of your neck kept giving you phantom itches. You wanted nothing more than to tie it up completely, but you always felt naked when your nape was exposed. You weren’t necessarily ashamed of the scar there, or the past connected to it, since it wasn’t your fault you were born into shackles, but… still. It was a… personal story to tell, and you weren’t sure you were ready to share it with your new boss.

Well, “new” was relative. You’d been employed on the Razor Crest for several months now, but you didn’t know much more about the Mandalorian than you did when you’d first set foot onto his ship. You knew he was a bounty hunter, from a race of legendary warriors. You knew he had a partially sordid, and dangerous, past if your encounter with Ran and his crew of mercenaries was any indication. You knew the green baby was his ward, or foundling as he called it, and Mando was tasked with returning the little guy to his people. And you knew his Creed forbid him from removing his helmet.

That was about it. The Mandalorian didn’t talk much, but it didn’t particularly bother you. You’d always been a quieter person, and after years of Peli’s constant chattering, you were kind of relieved for the silence.

Most of the time, anyway.

“How’s it looking?”

You gasped in alarm, jolting yourself off balance and falling back onto your ass in the dirt.

“Maker, Mando,” you panted as you craned your neck back to stare up at the bounty hunter. “What have I told you about sneaking up on me when I’m working on electrics?”

The impervious mask of the Mandalorian stared down at you silently, blotting out the sweltering sun and providing you a modicum of relief. A moment passed, then two, and you shifted uneasily under his unblinking gaze.

“I thought you heard me approach,” he said finally, his modulated voice flat and unaffected, but he didn’t move from where he was looming over you.

“Well, I didn’t,” you grumbled as you flopped your head forward and popped your neck, stretching your legs out in the dirt.

The tight leggings you wore ended not too far past your knees, so your shins were streaked with the red soil of this planetoid. The dirt didn’t bother you, but the heat sure did. It was different than Tatooine’s dry desert. This heat was oppressive, stifling, almost cloying, and every time you took a deep breath, a small part of your brain panicked, images of drowning flashing through your mind even though you knew it was irrational. You were just grateful your clothes didn’t look a fraction as hot as the Mandalorian’s all black get-up and what had to be twenty-five kilos of armor.

“So,” the bounty hunter said after a few more moments of silence, interrupted only by the call of exotic birds in the canopy, “how are things looking?”

“Honestly?” you sighed as you pushed yourself off the ground, dusting the red dirt off your hands but not even bothering with your pants. “Not good. The bounty’s guns must have grazed us when we were still outside orbit, and entering the atmosphere certainly didn’t help matters. Some of the side paneling has been melted beyond repair, and a lot of the wiring is fried, too.”

“Can you get it flying?” Mando asked, crossing his arms over his chest and making his silhouette all the more imposing. The sun glinted off his silver beskar, and you squinted in the glare.

“Maybe.” You pursed your lips and averted your gaze, turning back to stare at the charred panels and sparking wires. Sweat trickled down your neck, and you reached back to cup your nape, feeling the bounty hunter’s eyes on you.

“Didn’t know I was paying you for maybes.”

“You’re not paying me at all if you can’t even catch that quarry,” you snorted before your brain could catch up to your mouth.

You froze when the words finally registered, nails digging into the back of your neck. Stupid. Your mouth always did get the better of you. You used to mouth-off to your former owner until he backhanded you into silence, and now you’re starting shit with a bounty hunter you’d seen kill half a dozen men in just as many seconds.

Stupid.

You waited for Mando to say something, staring at the Razor Crest without even seeing it, and even if you didn’t really believe he’d hurt you for a simple off-handed comment, your body didn’t get the message. Muscle memory was a hard thing to forget, and every fiber in you braced for the blow.

The birds chittered in the towering blue-green canopy above your head as sweat poured from every single one of your pores, and you were just about to come out of your skin when the Mandalorian finally spoke.

“Well, to catch the quarry, I need my ship to fly,” he said, and when you chanced a glance over your shoulder, you discovered he’d somehow moved further away from you, like he took several steps back.

Was he… giving you space?

His tone was still flat, but after several months spent in close proximity with the bounty hunter, you were now able to parse out several different minor inflections in his modulated voice. You were by no means an expert, but you knew for a fact he didn’t sound angry in this moment. When he was angry, his voice took on a softer, menacing quality. The few times you’d heard it—thankfully never directed at you—every hair on your body stood on end, and the lizard part of your brain had screamed to run and not stop running until you were in a completely different star system.

This wasn’t anger. This was… something else. You almost wanted to say… amusement, but that would have been crazy.

Still, the tension bled out of your shoulders like sand through a sieve, and you dropped your arms as you turned to face the Mandalorian fully again.

“Alright, this is the best I can do,” you said. “I can get her flying again, I think I can even get her shielded enough to withstand leaving the atmosphere when we’re done here, but it’s gonna take some time.”

“How much time?” he asked.

You glanced over your shoulder again at the damage, did some calculations in your head, and added some padding to give yourself a margin for error. Then you turned back to the bounty hunter.

“At least two days,” you replied, confident in your abilities. “Anything less, and we risk blowing ourselves to the Inner Core and back when I go to start her up.”

“Hmm.” Mando stared at you for a moment and then shifted to gaze into the jungle. “The bounty will most likely be off planet by then.”

“I don’t think so,” you contradicted him, and your heart actually skipped a beat when the T of his visor turned to look at you. There was something nerve-wracking about staring into the dark, reflective glass, but then you noticed your red-streaked appearance, and you cringed self-consciously as you looked away.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Because,” you started, stooping down to pick up the tablet beside your tool bag, “when I first came out here and saw the damage, I was afraid we’d end up in this situation. But then I remembered that the quarry’s ship took more damage than we did in our little space battle. I know for a fact we landed at least one solid hit, I saw it myself.”

“And?”

“Well,” you said as you tapped at the screen, “given the make and model of his vessel, and the location of where we struck the ship, I was able to deduce that we most likely damaged his engines. If his engines are damaged, then there is a maximum distance he could have gone before he would have been forced to land, or even crash landed. With all this information, plus the fact that I knew the general location of where we lost visual of him when we entered the atmosphere, I’ve estimated the quarry can’t be farther than five klicks from our current coordinates. And with his entry trajectory, he’s most likely in this triangulated area three and a half klicks to the west, which should be easily reachable on foot.”

You turned the map on the tablet to face the Mandalorian, and he stepped forward to take the device from you. His gloved fingers brushed across your singed ones, remnant electricity shooting through your veins, and you stifled a flinch as you dropped your arm.

Mando studied the map for a long moment, cocking his head and zooming in to get a better look. You shifted uneasily in the silence, scuffing the tip of your boot into the red soil, but then the bounty hunter finally looked back up at you.

“When did you have time to do this?” he asked, and he actually sounded… impressed. “You were out here for less than ten minutes after we landed.”

“It wasn’t that hard.” You shrugged as your cheeks flushed with heat, but you blamed the sweltering sun overhead and the soup-like air.

“I didn’t realize you were so good with numbers,” he said, his helmet staring directly at you.

“Numbers are easy,” you replied, shrugging again as you raised your hand to chew nervously on your nails, but you stopped yourself when you saw the crimson dirt still caked on your skin. “They don’t lie, once you understand the rules.”

“Did Peli teach you how to do this?” he inquired, and you were surprised by all these questions. Most of the time, the bounty hunter asked you one-or-two-word questions and expected one-or-two-word answers. You couldn’t figure out why this situation was any different, but you found yourself responding anyway.

“Partially,” you explained, and you wondered how you could phrase your answer to be vague but satisfactory. “She… taught me a lot of the specifics for bigger jobs like ships and larger machines, but I’ve always been good at numbers and tinkering.”

That seemed good enough. You didn’t think it was relevant that you first started tinkering because your former owner used to lock you in his shop’s basement with broken droids when you misbehaved, and putting the discarded machines back together kept you from going crazy when your punishments lasted days. You also didn’t think it relevant that when your former owner found out and realized he could profit off your skills, you fine-tuned your abilities to become indispensable. The bastard still hit you occasionally, and his other slaves weren’t treated any better, but you had to admit, him locking you in the basement all those years had saved your life. If you hadn’t cultivated the skills you had, Peli wouldn’t have bought you at auction when the bastard bit the sand, and she wouldn’t have dug out your transmitter chip and effectively freed you the moment you walked into Hanger 3-5. The tiny woman had said she needed an apprentice, not a slave, and so that was what you became. Now, you were a mechanic in your own right, and a damn good one if you did say so yourself. Mando just didn’t need to know how you’d gotten there.

The bounty hunter seemed to think the same thing, too, because he nodded once before he looked back at the tablet.

“This is good work,” he said, and something in your chest preened at his words before you squashed it down. “If these calculations are correct—”

“They are,” you interjected before you could stop yourself.

“Then I think I can set out on foot, find the quarry, and bring him back tomorrow just as you’re finishing the repairs,” Mando went on, and he glanced up at you again. “Does that time frame sound right to you?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “Should work for me, but it could take you a little longer. I’m unfamiliar with this terrain, and there are too many other variables, like jungle beasts or indigenous species, for me to be sure.”

“The terrain won’t be a problem,” the Mandalorian said as he handed you the tablet back. “And neither will any beasts or natives.”

You cocked an eyebrow at the bounty hunter but didn’t contradict his confidence. “Alright. Then, yes, I should have the ship up and running by the time you get back. Are you leaving now?”

“Once I grab some supplies,” Mando replied before he paused and seemed to consider you. “Will you be… okay until I return?”

It was a familiar question, albeit still surprising. The Mandalorian was a stoic, usually silent warrior, literally a wall of beskar steel. You’d seen him kill men as easy as breathing, and he threw each bounty into carbonite without an ounce of remorse.

And yet, every time he had to leave the ship alone, he asked you if you would be alright until he got back. The question and concern would have made no sense… if you hadn’t seen the bounty hunter interact with his foundling. He tried to hide it, but he treated the little green baby so gently you knew there had to be a warm, beating heart beneath all that beskar. You just never expected any tenderness to be aimed at you, so it drew you up short every time.

“Yeah.” You smiled. “I’ll be fine. Besides—”

You trailed off as you felt something touch your lower leg, and when you looked down, big brown eyes set in a little green face blinked back up at you. Then little green hands lifted in your direction, and you laughed as you swooped down, picked him up, and set him on your hip.

“Besides,” you continued, still chuckling as you booped the child on the nose and left a smudge of red dirt behind, “I’ll have this little guy to keep me company. Right, kid?”

The baby cooed and reached out, his three tiny fingers settling on the bridge of your nose as he tried to boop you back. When he withdrew his hand, though, his skin was dyed black.

“Huh?” You frowned at the slick ooze on his fingers, your eyes crossing as you tried to bring his hand into focus. “What’s on your hand there, bud?”

“It’s grease,” Mando supplied.

“What?” you asked as you turned your head to the bounty hunter.

“Grease,” he repeated, and he touched the intersection on the glass T of his visor, right over where the bridge of his nose would sit. “You’ve got some just there.”

“Oh.” You blushed, your hand flying up to cover your face. Not only were you covered in dirt and sweat, but grease now, too. Typical. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought you knew,” the Mandalorian said, but there was that faint undercurrent in his voice that you were sure was amusement now. “Don’t you have any rags?”

“I did,” you muttered as you tried to rub at your face with your shoulder, “but I had to throw most of them out after that oil leak we had on the moon we left about a week ago. It’s fine. I’m already a mess anyhow, and I’m just going to get dirtier as I fix up the ship.”

Mando seemed to stare at you intensely for a moment, and you had the feeling he was taking in just how filthy your clothes were. You could read nothing from his body language, though, and since he wasn’t speaking, there was nothing to infer from his voice, either. Embarrassed heat crawled up your neck, and you suddenly felt naked in your tank top and leggings. You shifted the child in your arms a little to bring him more in front of you and block more of you from view, but the effort was useless because Mando was abruptly spinning on heel and marching toward the ship’s ramp.

“I’m going to gather supplies,” he said gruffly over his shoulder. “Don’t let the kid touch any of the wires.”

And then he was gone, his cape flapping behind him as he disappeared into the bowels of the Razor Crest.

“Okay, bye,” you muttered, and you frowned after him before looking down at the kid and lowering your voice. “Your dad’s a little weird, you know that?”

The child blinked up at you and then seemed to nod his head in solemn agreement.

You laughed and kissed the top of his head even though you knew you were toeing a dangerous line here. You knew you were just the ship mechanic, the hired help, but you and the foundling had spent a lot of time together when the Mandalorian was out hunting bounties, and you couldn’t help loving the adorable baby like he was your own. He was mischievous and always looking to put things in his mouth that he shouldn’t, but something about his presence was calming, soothing. Plus, those big brown eyes were to die for. You weren’t even that surprised the kid had managed to wiggle his way under Mando’s beskar. It had only been a few months, but you knew without a shadow of a doubt that if it came down to it, you would give your life to save this child.

Which was wildly inappropriate, but you chose to ignore that fact.

“It’s just gonna be the two of us again for a bit, little man,” you told the foundling, turning back to face the Razor Crest. “But we’re gonna have some fun, yeah? Do you want to help me fix up the ship?”

The child gurgled into your ear and patted your cheek, which you took as an affirmative.

“Alright,” you laughed as you set him on a large root right next to your tool bag. You dug around until you found a tool you would need eventually, and then you handed it to the kid. “Here, hold this until I need it, okay? But don’t put it in your mouth.”

The foundling seemed to pout at that last bit, but he dutifully wrapped his three little fingers around the tool and held it firmly.

“Thank you.” You smiled. Then you turned back to the ship, put your hands on your hips, and furrowed your brow. “Now, where to start?”

You spent the next ten minutes assessing what was completely ruined, what was salvageable, and what you had on hand that wasn’t necessary and could possibly be retrofitted to fix the damage. The skeletal beginnings of a plan were already forming in your mind by the time the Mandalorian was clomping down the ramp again. You set down the tablet you’d been tapping away at and picked up the child once more, and the foundling babbled as he waved around the tool he was still holding.

“Be careful with that,” you chuckled, and you craned your head back to avoid getting smacked in the temple. “I’ll need it soon, so keep holding onto it.”

The child cooed and then shifted to wave the tool at the bounty hunter as he approached.

“Putting the kid to work now?” Mando asked as he stopped a few feet away. The crescent-shaped hilt of his favored Amban rifle jutted out over his left shoulder, and a small bag was slung over his right, probably filled with spare ammo, cuffs for the bounty, and possibly some food. You’d never personally seen the Mandalorian eat, though, and a part of you was convinced he didn’t, even if you rationally knew that wasn’t possible.

“Nah, I’m just teaching him a thing or two,” you said as you settled the foundling more soundly on your hip. “You’re never too young to learn something new, and on the plus side, being my little helper keeps him out of trouble. For the most part, anyway.”

“Thank you for watching him,” the bounty hunter said, tilting his visor down minutely to stare at the child, who grinned a gummy grin and waved the silver tool again. “I know it isn’t exactly what I hired you for—”

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you glanced down to smile at the kid. “He’s pretty good company, and some of Peli’s droids have given me more trouble than he does. It’s really no problem.”

“Well, regardless,” Mando replied as his visor returned to studying you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You nodded, flushing again under his scrutiny. Then you cleared your throat and gestured at the bag on his back. “All ready?”

“Yes,” the bounty hunter said. “Days are longer here, but the sun will set eventually, and I want to try and find the quarry before moonrise. If all goes well, I should be back tomorrow before sunset.”

“Good luck, then,” you told him, and you lifted your chin with confidence. “I should have the ship ready when you return.”

“Thank you.” He inclined his helmet.

The baby suddenly burst out babbling something, and you glanced down to see him reaching out with his free hand toward the Mandalorian. His three little fingers made grabby motions, and the bounty hunter sighed.

“Listen to her while I’m gone, okay?” Mando murmured as he stepped closer into your personal bubble and held out his finger for the foundling to latch on to.

The child cooed, swinging the Mandalorian’s finger from side to side, and the breath stilled in your lungs as the bounty hunter’s glove brushed the edge of your mouth. You smelled something like leather and smoke, probably blaster residue, but then Mando was stepping back again, and the baby was forced to drop his finger.

“Keep alert,” he addressed you as he adjusted the pack on his shoulder. “We’re pretty far from any civilization out here, so I don’t think you should encounter anyone, but don’t assume you’re safe. And get inside the ship once the sun sets. The jungle will be more dangerous at night. I’ll have my comlink on me, but it’s affected by proximity, so you most likely won’t be able to contact me until I’m on my way back.”

“Don’t worry, Mando,” you said, and you patted the blaster he’d given you that was almost permanently attached to your hip. “I can defend myself if need be, and I have no desire to be caught outside after dark. We’ll be fine.”

“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he was trying to convince you or himself. Either way, he seemed to compose himself because he nodded once. “I’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll keep a weather eye on the horizon.” You smiled. “Try not to die of heat stroke.”

“I’ll try my best,” he said dryly, but after one more moment of staring at you and the foundling, he turned on heel and marched off into the jungle without another word. The multi-colored trees swallowed him almost instantly, and suddenly you were alone.

The child cooed sadly as he stared after the Mandalorian, and he turned his big brown eyes on you as if to say, Where’d he go?

“Don’t worry, bud,” you said, turning back to the ship. “He’ll be fine and back before you know it. Now, let’s take a look at those power converters, shall we?”

You set the foundling down beside your tool bag again, but you couldn’t help glancing over your shoulder in the direction the bounty hunter had disappeared in.

He’ll be fine and back before you know it, you repeated silently to yourself.

~~~~~

Two days later, you were starting to doubt the validity of your statements.

The sun had set and risen twice, and there was still no sign of Mando. Now, the celestial orb was steadily making its way across the horizon for the third time, and you sat on the ramp of the ship and glared up at the chattering canopy.

The child was down for a nap in the hammock the Mandalorian had set up in his own bunk, and your eyes burned with a similar exhaustion, but the anxiety slowly mounting in you made it impossible to sleep. The past two days had passed uneventfully. You’d spent every hour of sunlight you had at your disposal patching together the ship, and since days were longer on this planetoid, you estimated you’d spent over seventy-two hours getting the Razor Crest in working order again.

And you’d done it. It wasn’t perfect, but the ship could fly, and you were ninety-eight percent certain it would withstand leaving the atmosphere.

Now, all that was missing was the Mandalorian and his bounty.

“Dank farrik, Mando,” you grumbled under your breath as you dragged your singed, cut-up, and bandaged fingers through your hair. “Where the Maker are you?”

The chittering birds and critters in the underbrush didn’t have an answer for you, and you huffed out an aggravated breath as another bead of sweat dripped into your eyes.

By your estimate, there were about six hours left before the sun set again. Part of you, the illogical, irrational part, wanted to charge into the jungle in search of the Mandalorian. You had a general direction and location he should be in. Maybe you could find him.

But the rational side of your brain thankfully pointed out all the problems with that plan. For one, leaving the ship unattended was dangerous. You hadn’t seen anyone in the past two days, but that didn’t mean you were alone in the jungle, and now that the ship could fly again, someone could potentially walk right in and steal the vessel if you weren’t here to stop them.

Then there was the issue of the foundling. Sometimes, Mando took you and the kid along with him when he was hunting a bounty in a more populated area, but he was always there to protect the two of you if something went wrong. What happened if you brought the child with you into the jungle and you couldn’t protect him? And you couldn’t exactly leave him behind. Someone could steal both the child and the Razor Crest in that scenario.

The most compelling reason to stay with the ship, though, was Mando himself. Before he left, he’d confidently declared that neither the jungle itself nor the beasts or peoples therein would pose any problem for him. If he was wrong, and these things had posed a problem for the bounty hunter, what luck did you have of doing something he could not?

Anddddd that’s where the irrational side of you chimed in again with, Well, if he did run into an issue, he could need your help, so you should go look for him.

It was a vicious cycle, and your head was pounding with how fast it was running in circles.

You groaned as you dropped your face into your hands, digging the heels of your palms into your eye sockets.

“Fine,” you sighed into the darkness. “I’ll give him until morning.”

If the Mandalorian hadn’t returned by then, you’d start up the ship and fly over the area you’d triangulated for him. If you couldn’t find him from the air… well, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it.

~~~~~

You huffed in irritation as you tossed and turned in Mando’s bunk that night. You turned one way, rolled another, but then you found yourself with your nose buried in his pillow, and you instantly flipped back over, face hot with embarrassment even though it was dark and you were practically alone. You weren’t sure if he slept with his helmet on when he was alone in the closed confines of the bunk, but either way, the small space smelled of him intensely. You tried not to put words to his scent, told yourself it was inappropriate and he was your boss, a Mandalorian to boot, and you had no room or right to think of him in any way other than strictly professional… but that apparently didn’t work because you knew he smelled like the cheap soap from the fresher, and the rest was a blend of smoke, leather, and metal, the degrees of which varied by the day and yet was still always uniquely him.

You knew you were playing a losing game even just having these thoughts, but you somehow couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t stop yourself. Ever since Mando stepped between you and Ran’s crew all those months ago, blocking you with his body, a startling, protective rage in every inch of his armored silhouette, this little voice had come to life in the back of your head and wouldn’t shut the kriff up.

What if? the little voice whispered. What if it’s not just you having these thoughts? What if you could have him in more than just your dreams and fantasies in the darkness of this bunk?

Usually, you shoved the voice into the deep, dark recesses of your thoughts and recited equations until it grew quiet. You knew that was nothing but wishful thinking at best and delusion at worst. The Mandalorian was just that: a warrior closed off from the world by a shell of silver beskar. He cared for the foundling, yes, but that was entirely different and bore no correlation to the bounty hunter’s relationship with you. There was little he could possibly want from a former slave turned mechanic, aside from your skills, of course, so you clenched your eyes closed and tried to take shallow breaths through your mouth, but nothing you did could get his scent out of your nose, your memory.

You sighed for the umpteenth time and rolled to face the wall of the bunk.

When the bounty hunter was on the ship, the two of you usually slept in shifts so you could share the bunk, though sometimes the Mandalorian slept upright in the cockpit. It had been his idea originally. You’d been fine with a thin sleeping mat on the floor of the cargo bay, but he’d insisted in his strange, stoic, nonchalant way. So, you shared, and when it was just you and the kid on the ship, the two of you had the run of the place.

The child was currently in the hammock above your head, but you were pretty sure he wasn’t asleep, either. Every so often, he’d gurgle or make some other noise, and more than once you peeked up to find big brown eyes staring down at you in the dimness. You wondered if he could sense your anxiety, and you shifted so you could glare past your feet, out of the bunk, and at the closed ramp door.

You wanted to be angry with Mando, but by the time the sun set a few hours ago, you’d moved past that anger and straight into worry. The bounty hunter had never been gone this long before without contact, and your gut told you something was wrong and wouldn’t let you sleep. You wished you could blame your insomnia completely on your concern, but sadly, that wasn’t the case.

As if on cue, a sudden, piercing shriek echoed through the ship, and all the muscles in your body locked up on reflex.

The child gasped and made a worried noise as he poked his head over the edge of his hammock and stared down at you, and you tried to plaster on a fake, reassuring smile.

“It’s alright,” you murmured, reaching up to gently rock the foundling. “The ship’s closed and locked up. They can’t get us in here.”

The baby made an unconvinced sound, but he settled back into his bed without any further argument.

You sighed as you continued to rock the child, and you did your best not to flinch when another high-pitched screech sounded outside the ship.

You weren’t entirely sure what “they” were, but you knew they were nocturnal and carnivorous. And hungry. The past two mornings, you’d found bloody animal remains torn to bits and strewn along the edges of the clearing the Razor Crest was parked in like gory, crimson confetti. You’d kept the child practically glued to your side during the days because of this, but nothing ever attacked you during the day. They just circled the ship incessantly at night, howling and screeching and keeping you from finding a moment’s peace or rest. They hadn’t outright attacked the ship yet, but you were ready for it, your borrowed blaster a cold and heavy weight tucked under your pillow.

Reaching for it now, you curled your fingers around the familiar hilt and tried to block out the crescendoing, bloodthirsty shrieks of the mysterious jungle beasts.

You didn’t know how or when, but you must have dozed off at some point because all of the sudden, you jolted awake with a panicked gasp.

The bunk was dark and close around you, but since you’d left the door open at your feet, it wasn’t claustrophobic. Your vision was still blurry with sleep, so you swiped at your eyes with the back of your left wrist as you scrambled into a seated position. In your right hand you grasped the blaster, and you pointed it blindly in front of you, toward the rear of the ship.

You couldn’t remember what had woken you up, but it had been something. Your heart pounded a frantic tattoo into the underside of your ribcage, your arm shaking minutely with adrenaline. The ramp was still closed in front of you, so it hadn’t been Mando opening the door and returning. You squinted in the darkness but couldn’t see anything beyond shadows and vague shapes in pale, muted moonlight. It must have still been night, then.

You strained your ears, listening for the howling, but it was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The jungle beasts usually didn’t go silent until right before dawn, but it was dark enough in the ship that you estimated it was still the middle of the night.

Where had they gone?

Your heart rose up into your throat, sweat beading at every one of your pores, and your mouth was so dry that your throat clicked when you swallowed.

The child made a noise of inquiry above you, barely louder than a breath, but it still made you jump all the same. Your gaze darted upward to find brown eyes staring down at you, but they were wide in an alarmed sort of way. One three-fingered hand poked over the edge of the hammock, making grabby motions at you, and the noise he made this time was more urgent, louder.

Had he heard something, too?

“What is it, little guy?” you whispered, reaching up with your free hand and awkwardly grappling him from his sling-bed.

He tumbled gently into your lap with a soft “oof,” but almost immediately he was standing up, turning around, and frantically patting at your cheek.

“What?” you asked with a frown.

He babbled and continued to tap the side of your face, and his noises grew increasingly distressed until he was grunting with frustration.

Then his tiny palm actually slapped down right across your ear canal so hard that both of your ears rang, and you hissed as you jerked your head back.

“Kriff, what was that fo—” you started to ask, but another hiss cut you off, and this one wasn’t from you.

Your heart stuttered, eyes skipping over the child’s head and out into the cargo bay, and your right hand tightened around the blaster you’d lowered to your side.

But there was nothing there. Nothing moved in the shadowy ship beyond you, and you frowned, thinking your mind was playing tricks on your startled and sleep-addled mind, but then the hiss came again.

And this time, you recognized it.

“Oh, pfassk!” you cursed as you craned around and shoved your hand under the pillow. Your fingers scrambled wildly across the sheet but encountered nothing, and you growled in aggravation, shifting the child off your lap and coming onto your hands and knees. You tossed the pillow over your shoulder in a fit of frustration, and your right hand slapped at the wall around your head until the bunk light came on.

You squinted in the flood of harsh light, the child gurgling behind you, but when your vision cleared, you spotted the thumb-sized comlink off the edge of the cot, shoved up into the far corner of the bunk. You lunged forward and wrapped your fingers around the small device, and the words were falling out of your mouth before you were even sure you had hit the button.

“Mando?” you called into the comlink, cringing when your loud voice echoed back to you in the close confines of the bunk. “Mando, can you hear me?”

Mild static crackled back for a moment as you huddled around the tiny communicator, but then a louder burst of static—the hiss from earlier—exploded to life.

And you were sure you heard Mando’s voice in there.

“Mando!” you shouted as you heart did its best imitation of a speeder, and you cupped both hands around the comlink like that would help him hear you better. “Mando, it’s me! I’m here. Can you hear me?”

Another burst of static. Then…

Mando yelled your name, clear as day, followed by a scream of what sounded like “help” and a chorus of familiar howling, and your stomach bottomed out inside of you.

“Mando!” You were gripping the communicator so hard you were afraid you were going to break it. “Mando, where are you? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond. You sat there frozen for a full minute, ears straining to the point of ringing, but only quiet static crackled back at you.

“Dank farrik!” you cursed, punching the side of your fist into the bunk wall.

The child cooed at you, brown eyes big with concern, and he put his tiny hand on your knee as you raked a shaking hand through your hair.

Your chest heaved up and down as you fought for breath, your mind spinning off into a million directions at once.

Mando was in trouble. Mando needed your help. He was fighting jungle beasts, and he was far enough away that you couldn’t hear the shrieking with your own ears, but close enough that he could partially reach you over the comlink. You had to do something. You had to go help him.

But what about the child? What about the ship? You couldn’t take the Razor Crest. It was pitch black outside, and you wouldn’t be able to see Mando below the thick, dark canopy. You had to go on foot.

And you had to take the kid with you.

“Come on,” you said as you tucked the communicator into your pocket, grabbed the foundling and blaster, and scooted to the edge of the bunk. Your boots were on the ground below you, and you shoved your feet in them blindly, tying the laces in three deft movements.

Then you were on your feet, turning on the cargo lights, and jogging the child over to his floating silver carrier. You grabbed the spare remote on top of it, pressing the button and watching the top slide open with a hiss. Then you set the foundling down inside of it, and in the same motion you were tucking the remote into your pocket, turning on heel, and striding for the armory.

Another button press, followed by the hiss of hydraulics, and you were left staring at several walls of guns and weaponry. Some of them you knew. Mando had even taught you how to shoot a few, but those were typically smaller blasters.

And based on those howling screeches, you needed something with more of a kick.

Your eyes skipped over the blaster pistols since you already had the one on your hip, and after a moment’s indecision, your gaze settled on a midsized rifle you’d shot once before. You hadn’t been very good at it, only hit four of the ten targets Mando set out, and you remember it being very heavy.

But it was better than nothing, and you needed something to fight back against the dark jungle.

So, you took the rifle down and looped it around your shoulder, pursing your lips as the strap dug into your skin. You spent a moment checking the power cell and gas canister, and even though both were full, you still stuck a few spares into a belt that you wrapped around your hips. You also added a few grenades to your arsenal, both explosive and ones set to stun, plus a pair of Mando’s vibroknives, as a last defense measure. If you were being honest, if the rifle and grenades failed you, you probably wouldn’t live long enough to use the knives, but it made you feel better to clip their sheaths unto your belt.

The rifle and belt weighed you down with an extra five to six kilos, but you had lugged far heavier burdens through Tatooine’s desert, so you knew you could handle it.

The last two things you grabbed were the head lamp you typically wore when working under or inside ships and the cuff you’d programmed to work the twin lights—along with a variety of other tasks aboard the Razor Crest—resting at each of your temples. The cuff was a haphazard creation of yours made of old leather, metal, and glass, but it worked and was comfortable, which was all that mattered. It also had a small magnetic slot that was specifically meant for the remote of the foundling’s floating carrier, so you fished that out of your pocket and felt it snap into place with a satisfying click.

You were armed and ready now. All you had to do was move.

“Mando,” you said as you stuck the comlink in your ear and synced it to your cuff, which had a built-in frequency booster. You were already moving toward the ramp, tapping at your wrist and listening to the foundling’s carrier humming after you. The rifle felt heavy as you maneuvered it into your slick palms, and your heart hammered a war song in your ears. “Mando, I’m coming for you. Just hold on, okay?”

Static crackled in your ear, and your chest began to heave up and down as adrenaline flooded through you.

“Okay, little man, you’re going to take a nap, alright?” you said as you looked down at the child in his pod, your voice shaking even though you tried to stop it. “And when you wake up, your dad will be back with us.”

He cooed up at you with a fearful expression on his face, but you only spared a moment to press a kiss to his head before you were tapping at your wrist again. The lid of the pod started to hiss close as the ramp of the ship began to clank open, and you slid your finger onto the rifle’s trigger as the door slowly lowered before you.

The ramp finally thudded to the jungle floor, and you took a moment to stare out into the foreboding darkness. The moon was pale and wan in the purple-tinted sky, and all you could see were shadows along the edges of the clearing. Your eyes darted back and forth, every muscle in your body locked and braced for an attack, but nothing happened. Nothing moved save the indigo clouds over head, and the only sound you heard was the muted chirps and hums of insects.

“Okay, come on, quit stalling,” you muttered to yourself even though your heart felt like it was about to roll off your tongue. “Mando doesn’t have time for this.”

At the sound of his name—or at least, the only name you had ever known the bounty hunter by—some of the fear inside you vanished, and you were suddenly jogging down the ramp without further thought. The child’s carrier trailed after you quietly, and you jabbed at your wrist to close and lock up the Razor Crest.

You spared half a glance over your shoulder to make sure the ramp was secured, and then you looked down at your cuff. Mando’s comlink had a built in GPS transmitter, but its range was limited. However, if he was close enough to briefly contact you…

A dot flickered in and out on the grungy screen on your wrist, and you spun in a circle to figure out which direction had the strongest connection. The dot flared brightly when you angled toward the west, and you started running before you even had a plan.

You crashed through the underbrush with the child’s pod hot on your heels, and the thick, humid air sawed in and out of your heaving lungs as you gasped for breath. The lights at your temples provided enough illumination to see several steps ahead of you but not much else, and you tripped and careened over root and vine as you tried not to lose your grip on the rifle.

The good news was the dot on your read-out was no longer flickering, and it was now a strong red point about a kilometer ahead of you.

The bad news?

The jungle was no longer quiet around you.

As your feet pounded into the red soil and carried you forward, static crackled loudly in your ear, and the howling returned, faint at first but growing closer. Shivers wracked your sweat-slicked spine, and every fiber of your being was screaming to run the other way.

But you couldn’t. Because now you could hear Mando grunting and shouting over the comlink, clearer and clearer with each step, and as you vaulted over a protruding root in your path, you distinctly heard a roar of rage directly ahead of you.

You would have shouted his name if there was any breath left in your lungs, but instead you just lowered your head and sprinted as fast as you could.

The howling was nearly deafening now, echoing all around you, seeming to come from every shadow in the jungle. Your ears rang with the soul-piercing shrieks, and the cacophony was so disorienting, you tripped over your own feet and crashed into the dirt.

“Kriff!” you gasped, your knees and palms stinging as you skidded to a halt. Dots danced in front of your eyes as you panted harshly, and the rifle knocked painfully against your sternum.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the child’s pod come to a stop several feet away, the silver orb glinting in the pale moonlight barely filtering through the canopy.

Then you saw something else shift in the shadows behind the floating carrier.

At first, you thought it was your swimming vision, but then the weak lights of your headlamp reflected off several glinting eyes, and the breath stalled in your lungs.

A guttural, wet growl echoed out of the bushes beyond the foundling’s pod, and in the next instant the beast was lunging forward, vaulting over the carrier in one bound.

You yelped as you scrambled backward, fumbling for the rifle’s trigger, and you got the barrel up just in time to block a bifurcated jaw of gnashing fangs. The beast let out a piercing shriek as it snapped at your face, and the familiar sound nearly popped your eardrum at this proximity, but the pain barely even registered as you wedged your legs up under the creature’s chest and heaved it off you.

The beast let out a high-pitched yip as it smacked into a tree trunk, but you didn’t give it the chance to regain its feet. In one swift movement, you brought the rifle up, sighted down the barrel, and pulled the trigger.

The blaster must have been set on full-auto because a continuous stream of energy screamed out of the weapon, and the barrel jerked upward with the recoil. Bolts of energy shredded through the vines and branches overhead, and some kind of bat-bird creature screeched as it dove out of the canopy and swooped over you. It thankfully wasn’t trying to attack, merely flee, and the avian-beast cawed angrily as it disappeared into the jungle.

“P-Pfassk,” you panted, your voice as jittery as your racing pulse. Still, you scrambled to your feet, with the smoking rifle held tight in your shaking grasp, and you stared wide-eyed at the corpse of the beast that had attacked you.

The thing was almost two meters long, and six disjointed looking limbs jutted out from underneath it. Your would-be-killer looked vaguely canine yet also insect-like, with its long snout and what looked like scaled plates along its spine. The combination made your stomach churn. The blaster had carved smoldering holes into most of the creature’s flesh, but the uncharred remains were blackish-purple, mottled with spots of blue and green that matched the jungle’s underbrush. The beast was entirely hairless and slick-looking like an oil spill, and its bifurcated maw hung open to reveal rows of rotted black fangs. Two pairs of pale white eyes stared blindly up at the dark sky, and purplish blood seeped out around the carcass to stain the jungle floor.

Bile rose in your throat, but before you could even process your fear, terror, and revulsion, a very human sounding scream echoed through the dark night, and you whipped your head in the direction it had come from.

“Mando,” you breathed, and you spared the dead beast one last glance before you took off running again, every sense on high alert.

You didn’t dare blink as you crashed through the underbrush, and you pushed your aching limbs as fast as they would go. The din of snarling and howling was so loud now it was rattling your teeth, and all of the sudden you were stumbling out of the thick tree line and into a small clearing.

A clearing riddled with bodies, both living and dead.

Your brain stuttered as it tried to assess the scene before you. The canopy overhead was broken in a perfect circle, so the moonlight here was strong and bright after the deep shadows of the jungle, and it illuminated everything perfectly. The Mandalorian stood in the center of the carnage, half collapsed against a rotten log twice as tall as he was. Carcasses of the canine-like beasts were piled up in mounds around the clearing, some shot but some charred into blackened skeletons, and the stench of burnt flesh invaded your nose and sat heavy on the back of your tongue.

For every dead beast, though, there were two more still snarling, and boy, were they pissed.

The pack of creatures prowled in a semi-circle before the bounty hunter, all their attention centered on him, and they growled and snapped their bifurcated jaws in his direction. They didn’t seem to want to attack him head on, and a moment later you saw why.

One of the beasts must have reached its breaking point, because with the same piercing shriek that had kept you up the past two nights, it lunged for the Mandalorian, the moonlight glinting off the armored plates along its spine.

The poor bastard never made it.

While the creature was still in mid-air, Mando jerked his wrist up, and a blast of flames roared out of his vambrace. The beast screeched as it was swallowed by the inferno, and its charred corpse crashed to the ground at Mando’s feet a moment later. The remainder of the pack snarled in fury as they paced in front of the bounty hunter, but you felt your throat tighten with fear.

The flamethrower was obviously a great weapon at repelling these creatures, but judging by the radius on that last spurt of fire, you estimated Mando had enough fuel for one, maybe two more attacks.

And there were dozens of the beasts left.

What were you going to do?

You heaved for breath as your eyes darted around the clearing, trying to look for a solution, but you knew the answer was obvious: you were going to have to fight.

You blindly tapped at your wrist, and a moment later the child’s carrier rose up above your head and nestled against the lowest branch of the tree you were standing under. You didn’t know if the beasts could climb, but the pod was made of a strong, reinforced metal, so as long as the creatures didn’t notice the kid, he should be fine.

The same couldn’t be said for you.

Maker, you were going to regret this, weren’t you?

You didn’t give yourself the chance to change your mind.

“Hey!” you shouted as you stepped further into the clearing, one of your hands dropping to the belt on your waist.

The chorus of snarls and growls tapered off for a moment as the pack whipped around in unison to face you, and the saliva evaporated in your mouth as you stared at the dozens of glowing white eyes.

At the sound of your voice, you could see Mando jerk upright in your peripherals, but you didn’t dare tear your eyes off the pack as they started to stalk toward you. Sweat dripped down your face and trickled along your spine as you palmed a cold, heavy orb in your right hand, and you watched the distance between you and the creatures shrink bit by bit.

Mando shouted your name, but you ignored him.

“Yeah, that’s right!” you yelled at the beasts instead. “You guys hungry? Why don’t you come and get me?”

“What are you doing?” Mando roared, but you still didn’t pay him any mind as you tracked the pack. There were maybe three dozen left alive, and they bared their black fangs at you as they drew closer and closer.

Twenty meters… fifteen… ten…

Now.

“Take this!” You heaved your arm back, aimed at the beast in the center of the pack’s line, and threw with all your might, and the creature yelped as the stun grenade struck him in the skull.

A moment later, a web of electricity exploded out of the orb and arced through half of the pack, and the poor bastards screeched and screamed as they fell spasming to the jungle floor. The beasts on the edges snarled as they jumped away from their sparking brethren, and you saw some of the canine-monsters retreat into the shadows of the clearing.

This was your chance.

You darted forward the moment you had a clear path to take, and you vaulted over the pack’s twitching bodies in three swift strides. When you landed on the other side of them, you spun around and faced the fallen creatures as they whined and spasmed on the ground. Then you lifted your rifle, aimed haphazardly, and pulled the trigger. You swept the barrel from side to side for a moment, energy bolts tearing and searing through flesh, but then you whirled back around and sprinted toward the Mandalorian’s prone form.

He was propped up against the log with his legs splayed out in front of him, and you inhaled sharply when you saw the dark stain of blood on the ground beneath his right thigh. His Amban rifle lay beside him, but since he wasn’t using it, you assumed he was out of ammo. The bounty hunter listed heavily onto what you first thought was a rock of some kind, but as you skidded to a stop in front of him, you realized the lump was the body of another humanoid, except it didn’t look to be breathing.

“Mando!” you gasped as you crouched down in front of him. “Maker, w-what happened—”

“What are you doing here?” he cut you off with a snarl, and the absolute rage in his voice drew you up short.

You gaped at his visor, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “W-What… you called—”

“I didn’t call you, he did, right before they tore out his throat,” Mando growled and shoved the prone form beside him.

The body flopped over with a thud, and you stifled a gag when you realized the poor bastard had been eviscerated. He was torn open from gut to gullet, intestines and innards gleaming wetly in the dark, and his bulging black eyes stared up unseeingly at the moon.

“Dank farrik, Mando,” you breathed in horror. “What happened?”

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet up to look at you, but then his gaze seemed to shift over your shoulder, and he was suddenly latching onto your wrist with an iron grip and tugging you forward.

“Watch out!” he shouted as you tripped over his legs and landed on the other side of him, and a moment later you heard and felt the roar of flames at your back as another beast met a smoldering end.

You scrambled up onto your knees and whirled around, rifle held at the ready, but there were only the two new dead creatures sprawled at Mando’s feet. Their corpses smoked as their blackened flesh crackled, and this time you weren’t successful in stifling your gag. You dry-heaved off to the side, tears blurring your vision, but when the chorus of bone-chilling howls started up again, you blinked away the tears and clenched your rifle in a white-knuckled grip.

“We gotta get out of here,” you panted, your eyes darting from place to place as you tried to track the beasts slithering through the shadows.

“Can’t,” Mando grunted, and all of the sudden, you realized his voice sounded off, slurred.

You whipped back around to face the bounty hunter, and your gaze immediately fell to the dark stain under his leg. It had grown since you’d first seen it, and then you realized a haphazard tourniquet was lashed around the top of his leg, right above the metal plate that covered the front of his thigh.

“You’re hurt,” you breathed. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Mando’s head jerked up and down in an unsteady nod. “Just… happened. One of them got me… when I was trying to save the bounty. Pretty sure they nicked my femoral.”

His words were softer and definitely slurred now, and panic rose up in your throat like a burning coal.

“Then we need to get back to the Razor Crest now,” you said as you reached for his shoulders, but the Mandalorian sluggishly shoved you away.

“I’ll… only slow you down,” he grunted. “The bounty and I… are easy meals. The pack should stay to finish us off while you make a break for the sh—”

“No,” you cut him off, and the snarl in your voice surprised even you. “No, Mando. I’m not leaving you to die. We’re only a kilometer away from the Razor Crest. I have extra power cells and grenades. We can make it.”

Mando’s head thunked back against the log he leaned on as he stared up at you, and even if you couldn’t see the face underneath the visor, you could see the resignation in every inch of him.

And it ignited a fury in you unlike anything you had ever known.

“So, what?” you growled, bending down to bare your teeth in his face. “You’re just gonna sit here and die? What about the kid? You just gonna abandon him?”

You’re just going to abandon me? you didn’t say, but the words rattled against the backs of your clenched teeth.

“He’ll… have you,” Mando said, and suddenly his gloved hand reached up as if to touch your face, but he didn’t seem to have the strength, and the tip of his index finger barely grazed the edge of your jaw. His touch left behind a warm streak on your skin, and you didn’t have to look to know it was blood.

“That’s not good enough,” you snarled before you stooped down and grabbed the ends of his makeshift tourniquet, yanking tightly on both ends until Mando groaned in pain and latched onto your shoulders.

He murmured your name, his modulator crackling in your ear, but you ignored him as you looped his spent Amban rifle over his shoulder and shifted to slide your left arm behind his back, throwing his right arm over your shoulders. You took two deep breaths to brace yourself, and then you dug your fingers into his waist as you tried to leverage the both of you onto your feet.

It was nearly impossible. The Mandalorian had to weigh nearly ninety kilos in his beskar, and with the added weight of the weapons and grenades you carried, you could feel the muscles in your legs, core, and back scream at the strain.

“Dank… farrik,” you hissed out between clenched teeth, but you managed to get the two of you upright, even if Mando was practically limp against you. Still, you had to leverage your back against the log behind you to keep from collapsing.

“We’ll never make it… back to the ship like this,” Mando panted, his cold helmet brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Shut up,” you gritted out, listening to the howling beasts closing in again like they could sense your weakness. “I refuse to leave you behind. So, unless you want to kill us both, you need to get your ass in gear, Mando. I can keep them off our backs as we go, but you need to walk with me. Understand?”

“Cyare,” he slurred, and the unfamiliar word sounded pained as his helmet thunked into your temple. “I… don’t want you to die.”

“Then walk,” you grunted as you tightened your grip on his waist and lurched forward a step.

Mando staggered behind you, half draped over your back, but you widened your stance and refused to go down.

“Please… Mando,” you panted, shoving the barrel of your rifle into the loamy red soil to act as a crutch. “Help me save us. Just… just put one foot in front of the other.”

“Wait,” the Mandalorian said, and he actually lifted his head off your shoulder. “The bounty…”

“The bounty’s dead,” you grunted as your eyes darted to the trees again. You could see the sinuous shapes of the pack weaving between the towering trunks, but they kept their distance for the moment. They’d lost more than half of their numbers by your estimate, and you prayed to the Maker they would just give up, but you knew that would be way too convenient for your life.

“The puck… said dead or alive,” Mando sighed, his arm weighing down on the nape of your neck like a yoke, and it reminded you of the slave’s collar you once wore.

“I can’t carry both of you back, Mando,” you growled in frustration. “I can barely drag you.”

“Don’t need the whole body,” he clarified. “Just… the head. It’s… a big bounty.”

You groaned as you glanced down at the quarry’s corpse, and then you tilted your head back to try and look at Mando.

“Can you stand by yourself for a minute?” you asked.

“Maybe,” Mando grunted, but he shifted his weight off you bit by bit and leaned up against the tall log at your backs. His boots slid a few inches in the blood-soaked dirt as he almost collapsed, but he dug his gloved fingers into the rigid bark and stood there shaking.

“Didn’t know I was paying you for maybes,” you parroted his words from days ago back at him in an attempt to take his mind off the pain, and it seemed to work because he actually huffed out a strained-sounding chuckle.

“Hurry,” he panted, and you nodded as you quickly stepped away from him, stood over the bounty’s corpse, and shoved the barrel of your rifle between his shoulder and neck.

It was so dark, and you were running on so much adrenaline you couldn’t even be sure of what species the man used to be, but you pushed the thought away as you took a deep breath and held down the trigger.

The rifle screeched as it tore through flesh like a hot knife through butter, and you tried to ignore the feeling of lukewarm blood splattering across your lower legs. Moments later, the jittery, rapid-fire motions of the gun ceased, and the bounty’s head rolled away from the smoldering stump of his neck.

Bile rose up in your throat again, but you swallowed it down as you picked up the decapitated head and started punching buttons on your cuff.

Instantly, you heard the familiar hum of the child’s pod drone closer and closer, and behind you Mando inhaled sharply as the jungle dogs yipped in curiosity from the shadows.

“You brought the kid?” he growled.

“Well, it wasn’t like you left me much kriffing choice, but you can fire me later for child endangerment,” you snapped as the carrier floated down to stop in front of you. Then you turned to the Mandalorian and held out your bloodied hand. “I need your fibercord whip. Eject it.”

Mando didn’t even question you, he just did as he was bid. Within moments, you had the thin but strong wire wound up in your palm, and then you started the gory process of wrapping it securely around the bounty’s bloody head. Your stomach churned at the slick warm goo covering your skin, but you swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth as you tapped at your wrist again.

The child’s pod opened with a hiss, and you made sure to lower the decapitated head so it was below the carrier and out of the foundling’s line of sight.

“Hey there, bud,” you said as you leaned down and tucked the end of the fibercord into the interior of the pod near the hinges. “Look who I found.”

The foundling cooed and gurgled happily when he caught sight of the Mandalorian, and he lifted his arms and made grabby motions at the bounty hunter.

“Not yet,” you said as you stepped forward and blocked Mando from view. “First, we need to get back to the ship, so I need to close you up again. Don’t worry about anything you hear, though, okay? I promise we’ll be fine.”

The child murmured a soft sound as you bent down and kissed his wrinkled brow, but then you tapped at your wrist, and the pod closed with another hiss, locking the wire with the dangling head in place. You keyed in a few more commands, and the carrier rose up high above you, hovering at least six meters off the ground. Blood dripped from the severed stump of the quarry’s neck as it dangled from the pod, and you flinched when a speck of it landed on your cheek. It might be disgusting, but this way, the child and the remainder of the bounty would hopefully be out of reach of any of the beasts, and you could focus all your energy on getting you and Mando back to the Razor Crest.

“Alright.” You tore your gaze away from the silver pod and shifted your grasp on the rifle, wedging the stock against your right shoulder as tight as you could. You knew your aim would be abysmal since you were going have to shoot one handed while dragging Mando, but you hoped the full-auto setting would grant you some leeway. “Let’s go.”

“You really should—” the Mandalorian started, but you clicked your tongue to cut him off.

“That wasn’t a request,” you said as you sidled up against the bounty hunter and double checked that his tourniquet was secure.

“Fine.” He reluctantly draped his right arm over your shoulder, and you wrapped your left one around his waist. Then the two of you pushed off the log at your backs, and you staggered forward several steps, trying not to trip on any dead jungle dogs.

Mando’s cold beskar felt like it was burning you wherever it brushed against your bare, hot flesh, and he groaned in your ear as he practically dragged his injured leg behind him. The agony of his voice made you want to stop and sprint forward all at the same time, but you settled for stumbling several more steps.

“That’s it,” you panted in encouragement. “One step at a time.”

The pack howled and shrieked as you painstakingly shuffled your way across the clearing, but you haphazardly aimed your rifle into the jungle and held down the trigger. Rapid-fire bolts of energy careened into the darkness, illuminating white eyes and flashes of twining vines and snarling beasts, but several yowls echoed through the night, so you knew you’d hit at least some of them.

“Mando,” you gritted out as you neared the tree line. “I need you to hit my cuff. There’s a button on the side that will turn up my headlamp. I want it at maximum. Since these bastards are nocturnal, I’m guessing they don’t like the light.”

The Mandalorian grunted something that sounded like an affirmative, and then his left hand was swatting blindly at your cuff. After fumbling for a moment, his thick, gloved fingers encircled your wrist, his thumb brushing faintly over your thudding pulse point.

Your feet nearly tangled beneath you, but then Mando found the button on your cuff, and he pressed on it until the lights at your temple were bright enough to blind. The beams of white light cut through the oppressive darkness of the jungle, and the canine creatures yelped in pain as they darted back into the shadows. You swung your gaze back and forth, your lamp dragging over the scenery like a burning laser, and the beasts whimpered as their tails disappeared into the bushes.

“Come on,” you groaned as you dragged Mando forward, and the two of you finally stumbled into the thick of the trees.

You didn’t know how much time passed as you and the Mandalorian struggled back to the ship. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes hours. The moon appeared frozen in the sky above your head, and more than once you had the thought that you were already dead, and this was some messed up version of an afterlife where you were tortured for eternity.

In the end, though, you knew you were alive.

If you weren’t, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Left,” Mando slurred in your ear, half draped over your back, and your feet stuttered as you swung both of you around to the left.

The rifle screeched as it fired off into the darkness, followed by the yelps of dying dogs, and you hissed as the stock dug into your already sore shoulder. The pack snarled and gurgled as they encircled you, but they were hesitant now that you’d killed a majority of them. You wondered why they just didn’t give up, but you realized they could most likely sense you weakening, slowing.

Sweat ran in rivers down your face and spine, and every tendon in your body felt like it was on the edge of snapping. You could tell Mando was trying to take some of his weight off you, but he was becoming more and more unsteady with each step, his breath jagged and uneven as it rasped out of his helmet. He probably wouldn’t remain conscious for much longer, and if he passed out before you reached the ship, you were both dead. You couldn’t fully carry him, and you would not even entertain the idea of leaving him, so it was all or nothing.

Either you both reached the ship together, or neither of you did.

But, as you glanced up at the child’s pod hovering high over your head, you knew the second choice wasn’t really an option. The kid needed you. Needed both of you.

So, you were going to kriffing live, even if you had to break your body down to achieve your goal.

“Come on,” you encouraged as you stumbled over a tree root. “Come on, Mando. We’re almost there. Stay with me, okay?”

You had no idea if you were almost there or not. The homing beacon on your cuff was beeping steadily, but with all the howling, and the blood pounding through your ears, you couldn’t approximate how close you were to the Razor Crest.

“I’m… trying,” Mando mumbled, lifting his head just slightly. “B-Behind us.”

You cursed under your breath, letting the rifle dangle against your chest as you fumbled at your waist. Your fingers curled around a cold, metal orb, and you clicked the button in its center before you lobbed the grenade over your shoulder with all the strength you had left, which wasn’t much.

Then you staggered forward a little faster, dragging the bounty hunter behind you, and five seconds later, you heard the stun grenade go off, followed by the crackling of static and the yelping of beasts.

“That’s my last… stun grenade,” you panted, and the hair on your arms stood on end with all the electricity in the moist air. “I have some explosive ones… but…”

“But we’re not fast enough to get out of range in time,” Mando finished for you, his helmet bumping into the crown of your head as he sagged a little more.

“Yeah,” you huffed, but then a crunch to your right had you whirling and firing in one motion.

The canine yipped and screeched as the energy bolts tore through its chest mid-lunge, and it crashed into the ground at your feet as you staggered into a tree. The bark scraped painfully across your bare shoulder blades, and Mando groaned as you almost lost your grip on him.

“No,” you growled, tightening your arm around the bounty hunter and tugging you both upright. “Dank… farrik!”

The muscles in your arm burned hotly from the strain of keeping the Mandalorian on his feet, and you bit through your tongue to keep from crying out, the metallic taste of blood coating your teeth and whetting your parched mouth.

You stumbled forward blindly as you tried to work through the pain, but all the sudden, the claustrophobic darkness caused by the towering trees lessened a few degrees. You thought you were hallucinating it at first, but then you lifted your head a fraction and realized the trees were thinning out ahead of you.

And the beacon in your cuff was beeping like mad.

You were almost there. The Razor Crest was so close.

Of course, that’s when the snarling behind you reached new frantic heights, and you knew the pack was gearing up for one final assault.

“Mando, listen to me,” you gasped as you shifted to shove him against a tree, using your palm to keep him rooted at the sternum and on his feet.

He groaned as he listed there, mumbling something that didn’t sound like it was in Basic, but he remained upright, so you seized the opportunity to jab at the screen on your wrist. A moment later, the child’s pod swooped down from where it had been hovering near the canopy, and the bounty’s head dragged against the jungle floor with a dull crunch. You tweaked the carrier’s settings half blind, one eye on the encroaching darkness and the beasts therein, and then you grabbed the floating orb and shoved it against Mando’s gut.

“Ugh,” the bounty hunter grunted, his feet starting to slide out from under him.

“No, lean forward,” you rushed out, grabbing one of his shoulders and tugging him toward you.

Mando moaned as he collapsed onto the child’s pod, but since you’d cranked up the carrier’s power output to the max, the bounty hunter didn’t crash to the ground. Instead, he hung there half suspended, the pod whirling angrily from his added weight, his feet limp and dragging behind him.

“Mando,” you said as you tapped the side of his helmet, eyes still on the shadowy trees. “Mando, I need you to hold onto that pod as tight as you can, okay? Can you hear me?”

“Hear… you,” the Mandalorian just barely breathed, and you saw his arms wrap around the bottom of the silver carrier.

“Hold on like your life depends on it,” you instructed as you tapped at your wrist again. “Because it does.”

“What—” he started to ask, but he didn’t get to finish the question because the pod was suddenly surging forward, in the direction of the ship. The bounty’s head and Mando’s feet dragged loudly against the ground, but with one last jolt of power, the pod lifted away from the jungle floor and began to float away.

The pod would probably have just enough power to get Mando back to the ship before it died, but that was fine. That was just what you needed.

The jungle dogs howled and shrieked as they watched the Mandalorian drifting away through the trees, but as you listened to them start to skirt around you in his direction, you finally gripped the rifle with two hands and aimed into the dark.

Then you pulled the trigger, full-auto, and the shrieking of the energy bolts collided with the screeching of the canines and crescendoed into a deafening cacophony. You sprayed the jungle in wide sweeps as you slowly started to walk backward toward the Razor Crest, the rifle stock jolting into your shoulder in time with your racing heart. You just needed to give Mando time to reach the ship. You had programmed the pod to open the ramp at a certain distance, so they would just fly on into the cargo bay, and it would close behind them. Once they were safe, you could make a break for it and—

Suddenly, one of the shadows broke away from the trunk directly to your right, and you turned too late to see it was a slavering beast, its bifurcated jaw wide open and aimed for your throat.

“Ahh!” You stumbled back, trying to crane away from those jagged black fangs, but your feet got tangled up beneath you, and you came crashing down. A root slammed into one of your rear ribs so hard you heard and felt the snap as the bone gave, but you didn’t even have time to register that pain before the jungle dog smashed into your chest.

You instinctively shoved your arms outward, wedging the rifle between those deadly, snapping jaws. One of the beast’s jagged fangs scraped down your forearm as you tried to keep the bastard from swallowing you whole, and you screamed in fury and pain as blood spilled from your rending flesh.

Then you brought your knee up and smashed it as hard as you could into the jungle dog’s ribcage, and this time you felt its rib snap, and grim satisfaction burned like a wildfire through your blood. The warmth filled your limbs until you thought you would burst into flame, and you kicked the beast again and again as it yipped.

You were just starting to think you had the upper hand when the creature’s jaw started to close with a creaking sound of bone on metal, and your eyes widened in horror as the canine jerked its head back, taking your rifle with it. Then its bifurcated jaw snapped close with a horrible crunch, and the rifle shattered into shards of metal and sparks.

The beast roared in pain and rage as it tossed the remains of your rifle aside, but now you were acting on pure survival instinct, not thought, not logic, and you were already wrenching two grenades and a vibroknife off your belt when the nightmare dog finally settled its four milky white eyes on your face.

“Eat this, you bastard,” you snarled as its terrible jaws, rowed with serrated teeth, descended on you.

Then with one hand you stabbed the vibroknife into its neck just above the shoulder, and with the other you activated the grenades and shoved both of them down the jungle dog’s throat.

Warm blood sprayed down on you like humid rainfall, and you twisted the blade in to the hilt, feeling as it tore through flesh in a jittery fashion. The creature gagged and gurgled as its throat muscles convulsed around your other wrist for just an instant, but then you yanked your arms back with all your might, teeth catching on your elbow again, before you crashed into the dirt.

You were scrambling up in the next instant, barely listening to the creature heaving and choking behind you as you staggered forward into a clumsy sprint.

The rest of the pack howled at your back, but you were flat out running now, and you could see the Razor Crest through the trees. The pounding of paws on dirt sounded at your heels, and you couldn’t tell if you were gasping for breath or sobbing as you tore the final grenades off your belt, activated them, and let them fall through your numb fingers.

In the next instant, you broke through the tree line, and you could see the ramp of the Razor Crest, closing. You slapped at your wrist blindly as you sprinted as fast as you could, lungs heaving to the point of seizures, legs at the point of collapse. You didn’t know if the dogs were still right behind you, but the grenades…

You must have finally hit the right command because the ramp suddenly shuddered before it started to lower again, and you were ten meters away when the grenades went off like dominoes falling.

The first two explosions—of the grenades you shoved into the jungle dog—only shook the ground hard enough to make you stumble forward, but then the rest of them detonated much closer, and the combined shockwave hit you moments later and catapulted you into the air.

Thankfully, the ramp was just low enough that you scraped over it and crashed into the ship, smashing into a bulkhead with a dull crunch. The howling shrieks of dying dogs reached you through the ringing in your ears, and you felt a wave of heat hit you as the grenades engulfed the jungle trees. You curled into a ball on the cargo bay floor, your back to the ramp, and you just barely had the presence of mind to tap at your wrist one last time. A moment later, you heard the whirling of the ramp closing, and when it clanked shut a moment later, you rolled over onto your back and stared blindly above you.

You could just barely hear the roar of the building wildfire outside the ship, and the screeching of the jungle dogs died down within seconds. Your entire body—your lungs, your heart—heaved up and down as adrenaline pulsed through you like a bad hit of spice, and your ears ached in the relative silence.

Then the child cooed, and Mando groaned weakly, and you jolted upright like you had just been struck by lightning.

“Mando,” you rasped, flipping over onto your raw hands and bruised knees.

The bounty hunter half-sat, half-sprawled on the floor at the foot of his bunk. The foundling’s pod lay askew on the ground in front of the fresher like it had crash landed there when it finally died, but the child stood unharmed beside the Mandalorian.

Who was currently bleeding out on the floor of the cargo bay.

“Kriff!” You scrambled forward when you saw the spreading stain of blood below his leg, and as you drew closer, you realized his tourniquet must have been loosened when he collapsed.        

The Mandalorian barely even seemed conscious at this point. His chest stirred only slightly beneath his beskar chest plate, and if it weren’t for the soft groans he was exhaling, you would have thought him dead.

“Mando!” you shouted as you shakily rose onto your feet and staggered the rest of the way to the fresher. Your hands were shaking as you tore one of the storage compartments open in search of a med kit, and your voice cracked when you said his name again. “Mando! Stay with me. We made it back. We’re on the ship. Just stay with me for a few more moments. Please.”

You crashed down onto your knees beside the bounty hunter, tearing the med kit open with bloody hands and broken nails. His helmeted head lolled onto the edge of the bunk behind him, and you could barely hear his raspy breaths through the modulator.

The child stood between Mando’s splayed boots, eyes large and frightened, but you couldn’t pay him any mind right now. Your frantic gaze darted between the bacta gel patch in your hand and Mando’s bleeding leg, and even though it felt crazy, you set the patch down for a moment and reached for the last vibroknife on your belt.

Suddenly, Mando jerked awake with a gasp, and you reached out without thinking, pressing your left palm over his heart and feeling his faint, fluttering pulse.

“Mando, I’m right here,” you murmured soothingly. “Keep breathing for me.”

The Mandalorian muttered your name as his head lolled toward you.

“Yes, that’s me, I’m here,” you said, rising up on your knees and leaning over him. The vibroknife glimmered in your hand, looking like a real-life glitch, but you shook off the unsettling feeling and fixed your eyes on Mando’s visor.

“Mesh’la,” the Mandalorian slurred. The word was soft and elongated to the point of sounding like gibberish, but his hand settled firmly on the wrist you still had pressed to his heart, like he was talking directly to you.

In any other situation, your own heart would be fluttering with a feeling you didn’t want to name, but as the bounty hunter’s blood started to soak into the knees of your pants, all you could feel was dread.

“I need you to stay still, okay?” you said as you dropped your hand from his chest to grip the top of his injured thigh. “I need to cut your pants away from the wound.”

“O… kay,” he muttered, and his hand fell to settle over yours again on his leg like he was grounding himself by touching you.

“Nice and easy,” you cooed, trying to blink the tears out of your eyes so you could see to cut through his pants and not his flesh. “I’ll have that bacta patch on in just a moment. Why don’t you talk to me, huh? Mando, talk to me. Tell me something. J-Just stay awake.”

“Aw…ake,” he whispered, but it sounded like he was just repeating you now, barely clinging to consciousness.

Your hand shook as you slowly sawed through the blood-soaked fabric, and an aborted sob rose in your throat. But you shoved your hysteria down, down, down, you had no time for it, you had to stay level-headed, steady-handed, Mando was counting on you, Mando was dying.

“Mando,” you choked as you finally pulled the cloth away from his wound. Three parallel gashes, each nearly five centimeters deep, ran from his hip crease and nearly all the way to his knee, and blood pulsed sluggishly from the wounds in crimson gobs. “Oh, Maker, Mando.”

You dropped the vibroknife with a loud clang as you lunged for the bacta patch, and out of your peripherals you could see the child waddling closer, standing in between the Mandalorian’s knees, the hem of his little robe slowly staining scarlet. You didn’t have the heart or the strength to shove the child away now, so instead you focused on settling the bacta patch over the bounty hunter’s grisly injuries.

Mando twitched and inhaled sharply as the bacta adhered to his skin, and you sent up a million prayers to the Maker that you had administered aid in time.

“There y-you go,” you sniffled, unable to stop the tears from coursing down your cheeks now. “I got the patch on, Mando. You’re going t-to be okay. You… you have to be okay. Do you hear me, Mando?”

You felt like a glitching holotape repeating his name over and over, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You wanted, no needed, him to stay awake, and every time you said his name, he seemed to jerk a little, like he’d been recalled from a long distance at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, there was only the faint, raspy wheeze of the Mandalorian’s breath through his helmet, but then he suddenly mumbled something.

“What?” You shuffled closer, slipping in blood. You practically had your ear pressed against his visor. “What was that, Mando? Say it again. Come on, talk to me, Mando.”

“Not… Mando.”

The words were stilted, sluggish, and you frowned in confusion. “Huh? I-I don’t understand.”

“My… name isn’t… Mando,” the bounty hunter struggled out, and his helmet tilted forward a fraction like he had lifted his head and was looking right at you. “It’s… Din. Din Djarin.”

The shock you felt was muted, distant and removed, like a crack that formed deep in the heart of a glacier, buried beneath the adrenaline, horror, and helplessness warring within you.

“Din,” you breathed, and the word somehow tasted like the exact moment Peli dug out your transmitter chip. It tasted like freedom, like infinite possibility, and you didn’t understand why.

Mando—no, Din, Din Djarin—exhaled heavily as his head thunked back against the bunk, and even if you couldn’t see it, you could tell his eyes were slipping closed. “I… wanted at least someone to know before I—”

“No,” you cut him off vehemently, reaching out to cradle the sides of his helmet like you were cupping his face. “No, you’re not going to die. Not now. Not when… no, do you hear me, Din Djarin? I will not allow you to die. Not when I worked my ass off to fix this ship and drag you back onto it by the skin of my kriffing teeth.”

“Mmmm.” Din’s head lolled in your grasp, the weight of him growing heavier and heavier. “I knew I would like the way… you say my name.”

Oh, Maker. He was nonsensical now, and terror gripped you by the throat and squeezed.

“Then stay awake, Din,” you begged, and your heart felt like it was on the edge of a great precipice. “Stay awake for me.”

“’m so… tired,” he sighed.

“I know,” you breathed as you guided his head back to rest against the bunk, and you couldn’t speak above a whisper because your voice was thick with tears. “I know, but just listen to my voice, Din. Just—”

You trailed off as the child suddenly waddled into your line of sight, and you dropped your gaze slightly to find him standing between the Mandalorian’s thighs, right next to the bacta covered wounds. The foundling stared up at the bounty hunter with a furrowed, seemingly determined expression, and then he closed his big brown eyes as he reached for Din’s leg.

“Oh, buddy, don’t,” you started, reaching out to stop him, but Din—Maker, his name felt delicious and forbidden even in your mind—weakly placed his hand on your wrist to stop you.

“It’s… okay,” he panted. “He can help.”

“Help?” You frowned down at the child. How could he help? Was this one of the “powers” the bounty hunter had vaguely mentioned before? You thought the foundling’s ability dealt with physically moving things, not healing, but honestly you could do for a miracle right about now.

The child gurgled a small noise as his three fingers settled over Din’s wound, and the Mandalorian inhaled sharply at the same time that you felt… something. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was like the very air shifted, became magnetic, charged somehow. The air stilled in your lungs as you feared even the barest breath would fracture this fragile spell you were bearing witness to, and you watched with wide eyes as the gashes on the bounty hunter’s legs began to close right in front of you.

Bacta worked fast… but not that fast.

Several still, endless seconds passed as the foundling healed the Mandalorian, but then just as soon as it began, the moment ended. The atmosphere snapped almost tangibly, time jolted back into motion, and the child suddenly started to pitch backward.

“Oh!” you gasped as you lunged forward, your hands cupping the baby and bringing him close to your body. The foundling’s eyes were closed, his face slack, but his little chest still moved up and down with breath.

“He’s okay.”

You snapped your head up, more tears spilling down your cheeks with the motion.

Din was sitting up a little straighter, and his helmet looked squarely at you. His voice sounded stronger, too, and you gaped at him in bewilderment.

“He’s okay,” the Mandalorian repeated when you continued to blink at him. “He usually… tires himself out when he uses his powers.”

“I d-didn’t know he could do that,” you breathed, and your tongue felt like a disembodied lump of flesh in your mouth. “I… wait, how do you feel? A-Are you okay?”

You suddenly realized how close you still were to the bounty hunter, practically kneeling in his lap, but you ignored this as your eyes darted back to his leg. It was a little hard to tell through the dried blood and blue bacta, but it looked like the three gashes had closed altogether, leaving behind faint pink lines.

“I’ll survive,” the bounty hunter sighed, thunking his head back against the bunk again, but he tilted it to the side to regard you still. “Thanks to you.”

“I-I’m not the one who just healed you with magic,” you stuttered incredulously as your cheeks flared hot, and you cuddled the child against your chest even though you realized you knew almost nothing about the apparently powerful foundling.

“No,” Mando said evenly, “but you did charge out into a dark, unknown, dangerous jungle, fight off a pack of wild dogs, and drag both me and the bounty back safely.”

“Well,” you snorted with an edge of hysteria in your voice, and you gestured to the discarded head that lay sprawled against the corner of the fresher. “I don’t know if I’d say he got here safely.”

Maker, you felt a little crazy, hollowed out and wrung dry by the sheer amount of emotions you’d just experienced in a span of a few minutes.

“I’m serious,” the Mandalorian replied. “You… saved my life. I am in your debt.”

“I-I’m not one for debts.” You shook your head to try and clear it, dropping your gaze to the foundling’s face, nuzzled against your sternum. “I don’t like to owe anyone or be owed. You’ve stuck your neck out for me before, so let’s just call it even… Din.”

You saw the bounty hunter freeze out of the corner of your eye, and you bit your cheek until you tasted blood.

You should have known that was too much to ask for.

“Sorry,” you muttered, peeking up at the Mandalorian through your lashes. “You… mentioned your name when you were—”

“I remember,” Mando said, cutting you off, but you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his expression hidden as always and his voice pitched in a way you didn’t recognize, couldn’t identify.

“Right.” You cleared your throat, feeling the adrenaline starting to drain out of you and be replaced by every ache and pain you had ignored in lieu of survival. “Of course, I can just forget about it. You weren’t exactly in your right mind, after all. I’ll just… using ‘Mando’ is fine for me.”

The Mandalorian’s visor stared you down unflinchingly for what felt like an eternity. Then…

“You can… use my name, if you like,” he said haltingly, then quickly amended himself. “But only when we’re alone, on the ship. I… my name could be a dangerous thing in the hands of my enemies.”

You blinked in shock at the bounty hunter.

“A-Are you sure?” you asked, and you tried to keep the hope out of your voice, but you knew you failed miserably. “O-Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You’d thought giving up his name had just been a delusional, dying declaration, and you didn’t want him to regret it. What you said had been true enough. You were fine using “Mando,” even if the traitorous feelings buried deep in your chest said otherwise.

“I’m sure.” The bounty hunter nodded minutely. “I… trust you.”

The admission flooded your whole body with warmth, and goosebumps broke out across your skin. You’d known the Mandalorian trusted you, he wouldn’t have left his ship or his foundling in your care otherwise, but hearing him say the words felt like something out of a dream.

“Okay, then.” You smiled, heart thudding against where the child was pressed into your chest. “Din.”

At the sound of his name, the tension in the Mandalorian’s worn body seemed to bleed out of him entirely, and he sighed as his helmet fell back again.

“Let’s get off this Maker-forsaken planet,” he grumbled.

“I second that,” you chuckled dryly before you slowly clambered to your feet, careful not to slip in Din’s tacky blood or jostle the sleeping baby in your arms. You very gingerly leaned over the prone Mandalorian to set the foundling in his hammock, but you hissed when the movement jarred the bruised or fractured rib in your back.

“What’s wrong?” Din asked below you, and he was so close you could feel the rumble of his modulated voice against the bare skin of your stomach, your tank top having lifted up a fraction.

“Nothing.” You took a quick step backward, trying to put distance between you and the bounty hunter, but now that he was no longer actively dying, you were starting to realize you were a little more beat up then you’d previously thought.

The moment you stepped back on your right leg, your hamstring seized up, and when you went to grab at it, you realized your fingers were a little numb. You glanced down and saw fresh blood dripping down your forearm—your blood, not Mando’s—and the sight of the wound seemed to flip a switch in your brain because a moment later, pain crashed over you like a wave.

“Dank farrik,” Mando cursed lowly as he tried to shove himself up.

“No, no, no, no,” you babbled, holding out your less injured left hand in a gesture to stop him. “Don’t get up so fast.”

“You’re hurt,” he grunted, and you could practically hear the scowl in his voice as he tilted his helmet back to stare at you. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” you stressed, even though you could still taste blood on the back of your tongue. “Also, you seriously have no room to talk. You were literally just bleeding out less than five minutes ago.”

“How much bacta do we have left?” he asked, completely ignoring your statement. “We should take care of your injuries before they get any worse.”

“Maker, you’re not even listening to me, are you?” You rolled your eyes as you leaned your shoulder against the bulkhead, but when the Mandalorian started to get up again, you held your hand out once more. “Alright! Alright. Let me at least set the coordinates to meet up with the client and get the ship in the air. I’m pretty sure the jungle is burning down around us as we speak anyway, so the sooner we lift off, the better.”

Din stared up at you silently for a moment like he wanted to argue.

“It will take me two minutes, max,” you reasoned with him. “I won’t pass out or die in that time frame, okay?”

“Fine,” he finally sighed and dropped his chin to his chest. “Just… be careful climbing up there.”

“I’ll try my best,” you snorted, wincing when pain flared through your body, but you still slowly made your way to the ladder.

It took you way longer to climb five rungs than it should have, but you thought not falling back into the cargo bay was a feat in itself, given how every muscle in your arms and legs twitched in pain. The blood pouring down your arm also did nothing to help your grip, nor did your scraped up palms, but you still made it into the cockpit relatively unscathed.

Dawn was just breaking beyond the windows, but you could barely see it through the black smoke that hung thick in the air. Guilt sat heavy in your chest as you saw the charred trees and the birds fleeing the flames overhead, but you told yourself you did what you had to in order to survive.

And it wasn’t like you were walking away scot-free, either. Your arm pounded painfully in time with your slowing pulse, and every time you took a deep breath, you became a little surer that the rib in your back was, in fact, broken.

You punched in the client’s rendezvous coordinates without sitting in the pilot’s chair since you knew if you sat down now there was no way you were getting back up. While you waited for the Razor Crest to power up, you cringed at the blood you were dripping all over the floor, but there was nothing for it at this point. The whole ship would need a thorough scrub down the next time you made a pit stop, but that was a future-you problem. Right now, you were mainly focused on getting off this planetoid and out into orbit without crashing and burning.

You held your breath as the pre-Empire ship rose up above the now smoldering jungle, but no warning alarms or messages sounded. The Razor Crest glided steadily upward, and you leaned heavily on the control panel as you breeched first the clouds and then the atmosphere. Entering orbit rattled the ship and you more than you cared for, but nothing broke off or burst into flame, and before you knew it, you were drifting through the familiar black void of space.

“Thank the kriffing Maker,” you sighed as the autopilot took over, and then you turned and shuffled back to the ladder, exhaustion starting to make the edges of your vision go fuzzy.

Or maybe that was blood loss?

You were a little less graceful with the descent than you were with the ascent, but you at least landed on your feet before you nearly collapsed into the fresher.

“Careful,” Mando’s modulated voice murmured, and suddenly his bare hand was on your left, uninjured elbow, skin against warm skin.

“What are… you doing up?” You frowned as you studied the Mandalorian, trying to make sense of what you were seeing as he led you to sit in the open mouth of his bunk.

“I told you,” he said, reaching over and grabbing another med kit from the fresher. “We need to take care of your injuries before they get any worse.”

“You should be resting,” you grumbled, but you were too tired to put any real heat behind your voice.

“I’m fine,” Din parroted your earlier proclamation back at you. “The kid did a thorough job.”

Then the bounty hunter sat on a crate before you, a crate that hadn’t been there before, and you realized he was no longer wearing a majority of his beskar, save the ever-present helmet, of course. Instead, a faded but clean pair of duraweave clothes covered his body, and the bloodied outfit you’d basically sliced off him was piled up between his feet. It also looked like he had haphazardly tried to mop up some of his blood with the dirty clothes, and you wondered if you’d been up in the cockpit longer than you thought.

“Hey,” you chuckled suddenly, and you distantly noted that your voice was a little slurred with exhaustion. “Looks like I’ll have some new rags after all.”

You giggled a little loopily as you gestured to the Mandalorian’s blood-soaked clothes and then to the blood and dirt your outfit was also currently coated in, but Mando didn’t seem as amused as you were.

“Let me see your arm,” he said as his helmet stared at you impassively, but then he paused and added, “Please.”

“It’s really not that bad,” you tried to argue as you held out your injured limb, but since it was still actively dripping blood, your words didn’t carry much weight. Then the bounty hunter gingerly gripped your wrist with tentative fingers, and you hissed through your teeth as pain lanced up your arm.

“Osik,” Din cursed in a language you didn’t recognize, slowly rotating your arm to take in the extent of the damage. “Did one of those dogs get you? The bastard almost flayed you to the bone in some spots.”

“Yeah, well I shoved two grenades down his throat, so I think we’re even,” you gritted out.

Din froze and lifted his head, your blood, sweat, and dirt-streaked face reflecting back at you from his visor. “You what?” 

He must have really been on death’s door if he didn’t notice or remember you literally blowing the jungle dogs to Tatooine and back, but you just shook your head.

“Story time later,” you huffed, narrowing your eyes as you tried to breathe through the pain. “Bacta time now, please.”

“Right.” Mando jerked back into action, and in the next moment he was shifting into medic-droid mode.

Few words were shared between you two as the Mandalorian tended to your bumps and scrapes. Beside the deep lacerations on your forearm, your palms and knees were scraped bloody from tripping your way through a dangerous jungle in the dead of night. Your upper back was in the same condition since you’d been wearing a tank top when you decided to grapple with blood-thirsty hounds, and when Din accidentally brushed against your lower back, a small whimper squeezed out between your clenched teeth.

“This rib is probably broken,” the bounty hunter said, and there was a heavy quality to his quiet voice.

“Thought as much,” you grunted, trying to sit up straight without breathing too deeply. “Too bad we don’t have a full bacta tank to soak in.”

“I could always… drop you back off on Tatooine,” Mando muttered. “With the payment that I owe you, of course. Should be enough to pay for a full treatment and then some.”

You froze sitting there in the doorway of his bunk. The Mandalorian wasn’t looking at you, too busy double checking the bandage he’d wrapped over the bacta on your forearm, but you could see how rigid his body was as he awaited your answer.

“Do you… want to drop me back off on Tatooine?” you asked hesitantly, the breath shallow in your lungs. You could hear the child snoring softly in the hammock directly behind your head, and the thought of leaving him opened a dark pit inside you.

And that was nothing to say of the thought of leaving the Mandalorian. Of leaving… Din.

Now that you knew his name, the feelings you had done your best to ignore came surging up to the surface, that little voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

He told you his name. He trusts you. He wants you here. Maybe he wants you for more than just your skills.

You shoved the thoughts away as quickly as they cropped up, but that didn’t stop something small and fragile from unfurling in your chest. You almost wanted to call it hope.

“I—” Mando started, stopped, fidgeted on his crate, and then sighed as he scooted back a little to stretch out his injured leg. “No, I don’t want to do that. You’re a talented mechanic and… good company. I’ve… enjoyed having you on my crew.”

“Oh.” You blushed as the breath whooshed out of your lungs, leaving you feeling lightheaded and buoyant. “T-Thank you. Current circumstances notwithstanding, I’ve enjoyed being on your crew, too. A-And not just for the payment. Seeing new worlds, as dangerous as they are, was something I never thought I’d get to experience. So, even if the price to pay is a few bumps and scrapes, I think that’s a fair deal.”

“You have a skewed idea of ‘fair,’” the Mandalorian chuckled dryly as he reached down beside him, picked up a pair of his gloves, and slipped them back on.

“No kriff,” you snorted, the scar on the nape of your neck tingling. “But it works out in your favor, so I wouldn’t question it too much.”

“Fine.” Din held up his hands, but then he lowered them to his knees and cocked his head at you.

“What?” you asked when he didn’t say anything for a full minute. His gaze made your skin prickle even if you couldn’t see his eyes, and with each passing moment, you grew acutely more and more aware of how dirty and disheveled you looked and felt.

“Nothing,” he said, fingers flexing against his knees. “Just… thank you. Again. For saving me, the kid, the bounty, and the ship.” 

You fidgeted in discomfort. You didn’t know what to do with praise and compliments, having never really received them before, so you shrugged your shoulders as you picked at the bandage on your arm.

“I told you, we’re even,” you muttered.

“It doesn’t feel that way to me,” he argued, and something about his tone told you he wasn’t going to let this go. “So, how about this: after we drop off this bounty with the client, you can pick the next planet we stop on.”

“Really?” Your eyes flicked up to the bounty hunter and widened. He’d never let you pick a destination before. You’d always just been along for the ride.

Mando nodded. “And make a list of parts and stuff you need to keep the ship running. We’ll stock up wherever we stop off next.”

“Okay.” You grinned as your heart did a little jig in your chest, and you stuck out your bacta-wrapped hand to shake on it. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Din Djarin.”

His name rolled off your tongue like a grain of sand spiraling down a dune, picking up momentum as it went, and it sent a shiver of pleasure straight down your spine. You knew you were playing a losing game with your own heart here, but as you stared into Mando’s visor, you also knew there was no stopping yourself now. You would just have to deal with the future heartbreak.  

The Mandalorian tentatively reached out and grasped your fingers in his gloved ones.

“Deal,” he rumbled back.

“Good.” You nodded as a yawn cracked open your jaw, and you reached up to cover your gaping mouth and scratch your nose. “Now, given the client’s rendezvous coordinates, we should have a few days of rest before we reach our destination, and if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to start right now by taking a well-deserved nap.”

You made to stand up, but Din gently placed his hand on your shoulder to keep you seated on the edge of the bunk.

“Take the cot,” he said as he nodded behind you. “I’m going up to the cockpit to send a message to the client anyway.”

“Are you sure?” you murmured around another yawn.

“I’m sure,” he said, but then his gloved fingers were suddenly ghosting over the bridge of your nose. “By the way, you’ve got a little grease right here. Just thought you should know.”

You went cross-eyed as you tried to draw his finger into focus, but when he stepped back, you noticed the fingertips of his glove were shiny, and glancing down at the hand you used to shake his revealed that your palm bore the same black sheen.

“Hey, this is your grease,” you muttered indignantly, but then Din was pressing gently on your shoulder, guiding you to lay back on the cot, and you went willingly.

“Get some rest,” he said, turning off the bunk lights. “We’ll worry about cleaning up later.”

You tried to grumble something, but exhaustion was starting to tug at your limbs and eyelids, and your body unwound bit by bit as you buried your face in the bounty hunter’s pillow with no remorse.

A moment later, Mando’s boots were clomping up the ladder to the cockpit, but he left some of the cargo bay lights on and the door to the bunk open, like he somehow knew you were afraid of the dark.

The beginnings of a smile tugged at your lips, but you spiraled into sleep before you could fully process the thought.

[fontofmercy-archived2]

TROS spat in the face of every single abused child who was looking to this fairytale for hope. The sequel trilogy wasn’t about a farm boy looking for adventure or even an abused child falling to villainy, it was about three abused children from the different class systems all rising out of trauma and dysfunction. This was our fairytale, our story, and JJ Abrams perverted it into abuse apologist propaganda in a pathetically desperate attempt to appease the most hateful groups of fans who never understood or appreciated the story to begin with (which is why the story had to be butchered in order to appease them).

1.) Rey

Rey’s parents selling her for profit into slavery was portrayed as a good, loving thing. Child trafficking was literally portrayed as excusable, and even loving, in this children’s film. Just let that sink in for a second.

What is the message there? If your parents did something horrible that caused you years of trauma and torment, you should just not lose faith in them because they may have had a good reason (even if you have no evidence of that). Maybe a space wizard who has been dead for decades forced them to traffic you. This scene makes me want to vomit. This is how a children’s fairytale portrayed parents who sell their children into trafficking:

There is no excuse for this. Rey’s parentage was solved. Her identity crisis was over. This wasn’t needed except to force this abuse apologist message. Oh, and of course to feed the sexist fanboys a bit of eugenics to make them stop whining about how a woman could possibly be important and powerful.

TLJ was about Rey discovering her identity and letting go of her unhealthy, irrational dependency on parents who she never knew, who sold her to an abuser and left her to half-starve alone in a desert. TROS decided to give her a new identity crisis out of literally nowhere just so they could erase all that “You are not your parents, even if your parents don’t love you and/or aren’t special, you are still special and still deserving of love. You can find belonging ahead of you.” stuff with dynastic “Actually, your blood family does entirely define your identity and you should always assume they’re right even when all evidence points otherwise, just ignore your own trauma and blame it on a dead space wizard.”

The whole Rey Palpatine thing left a very bad taste in my mouth. Not just because it’s fucking stupid and something Reddit would write, but because Rey was horrible in TROS. She acted like she was possessed by Palpatine, she stabbed Ben (who she cares for and always had compassion for) to kill while he was distracted. She suddenly acted like she didn’t care about anyone around her. She just overall acted unrecognizable from the warm, loving, empathetic woman we saw in TFA and TLJ. The message here is clearly that because she has this “bad blood”, Rey can’t have an identity for herself. The only thing that saves her is taking on the identity of the good guys, she never finds her own. All the traits she’s had up until now don’t matter, who she actually is doesn’t matter. All that matters is what man’s blood runs through her veins. All Rey is is someone’s granddaughter, because if she wasn’t, then she’d really be nobody.

And thus, JJ Abrams decided that “Anyone can be special, even nobodies. Your worth is not defined by your class or your background.” was a stupid message and instead it should be pure eugenic “You’re only special if you have important people blood/name. Your identity is entirely your (male) family, not your own. No silly woman could have power of her own!”

Rey taking on the name of Skywalker is an utterly shallow attempt to fix the fact that they took every bit of Rey’s real identity from her, took half her soul (Ben is her dyad, two that are one), and then left her alone on a desert planet as if to say that her “true self” is the abused child she once was and that she can’t actually escape that. The moral of this fairytale was “You don’t need friends or love, as long as you have a glow stick (material possessions) and a super duper special name that makes you important (which you weren’t before, you were nobody).”

Not to mention that Rey basically named herself after Luke, no one else she knew actually used that name. And Luke didn’t do anything to deserve that, he rejected her at every single opportunity and only did the bare minimum to help her after being berated into it. Han was her surrogate father and the first person to offer her a life outside of Jakku. Leia was her loving mentor and pseudo-mother. Ben was the love of her life who has always been there for her when she needed someone to confide it, someone to see her true self and tell her she wasn’t alone. Luke was nothing but some cranky old guy who made her feel awful about herself and never accepted her (not to mention telling her she was inherently dangerous and also trying to murder her soulmate when he was a child which the real Rey was furious about).

2.) Finn

Finn’s character has not been given much in terms of development. For the most part, he’s been reduced to “Rey’s friend” and then “Finn’s friend”, with a little moment in there where he got to be with Rose and have his own identity but TROS of course decided to reward racist bullies and cut out Rose instead of giving the rest of the fans a satisfying story.

In TROS though, the one thing that Finn actually did that was heroic by himself, his character defining moment of turning from The First Order, was credited to the force and described like it wasn’t a choice at all. Which brings up a lot of questions and, as Han would say, “That’s not how the force works!”. It was so entirely unneeded to take that from Finn, but they gave up all of Rose’s potential screentime to do it.

There’s also the moment when Poe, our alleged hero, so hilariously (i.e callously) compares himself being a criminal to Rey being a scavenger and Finn being a stormtrooper. Completely ignoring the fact that they had no choice in that, as if their trauma doesn’t matter at all. It’s a small moment, but it was very insensitive and highlights how much the writers Did Not Care or even understand their main characters’ experiences.

3.) Ben

I don’t even know where to start with Ben Solo. His ending was the one that broke me as a person, I had so many hysterical sobbing fits over it that my loved ones were actually getting tired of it and it genuinely put me in a really bad place with my depression that I’m only just not getting out of.

Ben Solo’s story in TFA and TLJ was abuse victim’s epic, it was the story of a boy who was tortured and groomed from the time he was in his mother’s womb. A man who never knew a life without abuse. Ben Solo was described as a pure beam of light in his mother’s womb who was ensnared and tainted by a predatory force bigger and stronger than himself that he could not escape.

The feeling of being tainted and corrupted is common in abuse victims, and the fact that TROS told every single abused child out there “Yes, you really are tainted and corrupted. You do deserve to die before experiencing more than a moment of happiness and safety.” is something that I’ve yet to get over. It still infuriates me, it still breaks my heart. Ben’s entire arc up until this point has been about how he is still worthy of love.

And no, this isn’t me woobifying; it’s in the text of the films and the canon novels that Ben worked for his redemption, that he earned it. Ben fought Snoke from the time he was a child, but Ben was only a child and Snoke was too powerful, too relentless in his cruelty for him to withstand. The one and only person in the entire galaxy who had the training and the knowledge to protect Ben was his uncle, who chose to try to murder him in his sleep instead of protecting him. Ben was left with nowhere to turn except to his abuser. And even then, we see him struggle every single day to try and force himself to be this evil person that he never was. Ben was light itself who was convinced he was darkness through abuse and manipulation.

Then, when Ben found the first person who he could feel and connect with through the force, even though Snoke and Luke had abused and betrayed him - Ben still took the chance to reach out to Rey and be vulnerable with her. While interrogating an enemy, he took off his mask and revealed himself (something we only see him to for his father and when Snoke forces him to maliciously). In the middle of a war, under the thumb of the monster who has tortured him since forever, Ben was able hold Rey’s hand and tell her she wasn’t alone. He was still able to be kind. And because of that kindness, that connection, Ben found the courage to finally destroy his abuser and free himself.

Ben freed himself, and he did it out of compassion for and a need to protect Rey, not out of wrath or vengeance. If Ben were truly a creature of wrath, he would have killed Snoke before, but it was only when he had to see and hear and feel his soulmate be tortured by his own abuser that he found that courage. And yes, he did take Snoke’s place at first because that was the only way he knew how to protect himself. In his experience, people without power get hurt and that’s it. But even then, Ben was able to muster yet more strength to shed the armor that was Kylo Ren and stand with Rey unarmored against the very thing that has abused and tortured him since before he was born.

That took so much bravery and love and selflessness for Ben to stand there as himself, ready to fight his abuse and trauma head-on as Ben Solo. For him to admit he was hurt for the first time in the series. For him to crawl up a cliff with a badly broken leg out of love. For him to willingly give his very life force out of pure love. All of these things are incredible for Ben to have been able to do after all he had been through, these are more than deserving of reward. But TROS punished Ben for doing everything right, they proved that abusers always win in the end. Ben was going to survive until the last few edits. Everything we see was literally leading up to him surviving. This was Ben’s redemption, this was supposed to be him fighting for his new beginning and taking his first steps into the happiness and safety he earned, and should have had as a child, not a pointless struggle before succumbing to death:

But TROS told us, told traumatized and neurodivergent children who saw themselves in Ben, that it wasn’t good enough. That love isn’t good enough. That doing the right thing deserves to be punished. That children tainted by violence and abuse and darkness don’t deserve love and healing even when they earn redemption, even when they do everything in their power to do the right thing and be brave. The hopelessness of that is what broke me as a person. That is not what Star Wars is about. Star Wars is about redemption and love and hope; TROS was about cruelty covered up with a thin sheet of materialism and confused, poor storytelling.