#there were so many frogs at this campsite

[excavatinglizard]

Frog

Killarney Provincial Park, 2022, Kodak disposable camera

[alt-bluesman]

Animal Crossing memories, part 3

I think this is the final part!

My Joy-Cons haven't completed their journey yet, but in the end I decided that I'm not going to put much faith in them & grabbed a set of used Hori controllers in the meantime. Gave Pan a final tour today. Didn't want to invest in a capture card, so a couple of screenshots is the best I can offer!

Sadly there's no way in heck I can stuff all of them into a single post, so I'll just narrow it down to my favourites & the ones I have something to say about!

First, the map. My villagers were Gruff the goat, Kitt the kangaroo, Sprinkle the penguin, Kyle the wolf, Ione the squirrel, Olaf the anteater, Al the gorilla, Jambette the frog, Fang the wolf and Fuchsia the deer. I liked them all, fuglies included. I like a lot of the ugly ones now!

Naturally my biggest dream was to invite Shrek to the island. Shrek never showed up. I had to resort to home-brew methods!

Frample's home. I couldn't fit the big-ass yard in the frame, but there was a little islet with a snapping turtle living on it. A homage to Jacksepticeye's Tortellini, forever jammin'!

The Zen Garden that my villagers never really cared for, haha. I found out they aren't very eager to interact with any objects that aren't close to their houses or the plaza. They sometimes goof around on the southern beaches, but that's pretty much it!

(At least those lads were having a time of their life)

Ione's yard was the bane of my existence - the laggiest part of the island. I was never able to pinpoint the cause, there was no water and not even that much foliage. Some folks say that snow causes the game to get quite choppy, but it lagged during the other seasons too. Maybe it was all the custom paths?

Sprinkle lived close to Ione. Her yard was a bit more spacious, so I could build Snowboys there. Some of them still ended up in the river!

The main road with 5 frickin' waterfalls. Not visible here, but there was another one on the left. A good place to be if you want your eardrums to explode!

This cliff served no particular purpose, but I liked the view! This was my stargazing hideaway.

The campsite was pretty dang huge and placed right next to the island entrance. A decision I came to regret after some time. Now I prefer them tucked away in a secluded spot!

Isle of Spooks! My villagers never visited it except for that single time when Gruff decided to sneak in and investigate. Gruff was an absolute legend.

The beach next to the campsite was one of the few decorated beach areas that I was actually quite happy with!

The entrance. Nothing too fancy, but there were so many failed attempts at making a decent entrance, lmao. Makes ya finally settle with whatever ya have!

Kitt's yard! I remember feeling very proud of it once, but it doesn't really appeal to me anymore, especially that blob of a path.

Farmlands. That rainbow flower garden was a convenient way of keeping most of the flower breeds & colours in one spot, without them overtaking an entire island, but probably not something I'd build today. I hated when balloons flew over it because I couldn't shoot them down from there!

This yard was between the farms. First it was Tasha's, then Claudia's, then Fang's. I never bothered to redecorate, haha.

And here were the crops. Leif has failed me & never brought the carrots!

The woods behind the farms. (Wayyy too much clutter for my current tastes, but at least my main man Gruff was there)

The pirate bay! One of my oldest builds, but still very much up my alley!

(What if I told you that Pompom never really moved away?)

Alrighty, that's most of the western side of Pan covered. Here's a land bridge that connected the main cliffs behind the plaza. Waterscaping around it was absolute hell! Admittedly, I'm still quite proud of it & it's something I'd like to build again, but most likely without the dang river.

The road leading up to the Museum. Museum was an important building for me because of my first job, but I never quite got the surrounding area to look right. I do like the stone lion-dog statues, though!

Jambette's yard was my absolute favourite spot on the entire island. Minimalism was the name of the game. With a frog model from Jim!

Kyle's yard had a bit of a side business in the top left corner!

Eastern river mouth. I was all about putting those little islets on my rivers and lakes. It's fun and games till a special character or a fossil decides to spawn on them..!

Moving back to the eastern cliffs: here are some hungry gnomes and Olaf's yard. I always gifted all of my dresses as well as dumbest pieces of furniture to Olaf. He took it all like a champ!

I gave Mr. Resetti an extra job on Pan. (And a lazy bear compadre)

A seasonal icy drink bar - with Al's ass cheeks in the background for everyone's viewing pleasure. Al was the very first villager I found on a mystery island on a rainy day. Seeing his silhouette in the rain, I legit thought he was some kind of zombie. I didn't invite him back then, but when I bumped into him again on my last villager hunt, I decided to take him. Mad lad has finally made it!

Fuchsia's yard. A bit funky, but I still like it!

And that's it! There's a bunch of other screenshots I wasn't able to fit in, like the absolutely glorious board drawings from my best friends. Don't worry though, they are safe and sound with me! Farewell, Pan. You were my introduction to Animal Crossing and even though I'm ready to move on, I will always remember you very fondly!

[georgemackayhey]

Hello! I love your content! Could you do some Bo Cash stuff? Preferably the fluffy, romantic stuff?

Bo Cash content incoming ..... I've always kind of had this blurb in the back of my mind so thank you for giving me a reason to bring it to life! Keeping it short bc I'm pressed for time but if yall want follow up to this blurb pls let me know!

___

You'd saw him stretching toward the afternoon sun, contorting his figure into poses by the pool side. He was lean and fit and striking, too beautiful to be in a rundown place like this. Too beautiful to be in your presence, you thought.

"Bo! I stole dinner!" I voice little and far off called, and the man you'd been admiring turned at the sound of what must have been his name. You peered on as the man stretched to stand and shuffled out of your sight.

Sipping your tea, you pretended to occupy your time with the laundry on the line, and counted down the days until you were meant to leave here. You'd applied to university and had just received an acceptance letter in the mail a day ago. One piece of paper changed the direction of your life, yet your day went on the same as so many before it.

No matter why you'd wound up occupying the little camper van on the dullest side of the city, your days there finally became numbered, and nothing thrilled you more to know.

///

Bo cursed Rell, he'd only just gotten started stretching his limbs that day. And he'd barely gotten a good glimpse of you, the only reason he started yoga by the pool was so that he might have seen you out, that day. But Bo's stomach grumbled, so he turned toward dinner and hoped he could find a way close toward you by next sunset.

///

You sat out by the pool after a long night of planning your future. Planning what to pack and who to tell and how to make enough money to get you to where you planned on going. There was a book in your lap and a drink in your hand and a quiet in the night. The pool was far enough away from most campsites that it felt like a retreat, and close enough to yours that it wasn't a trek to get to. So the quiet was expected. Aside from the croaking of tree frogs in the distance, and a few cars rumbling down the far off freeway... nothing. So when the sound of the pool gate clattered, you turned in surprise.

Your jaw slacked ever so slightly when you saw him. Bo, the man you'd been staring at from across the campsite for a day or two now. He was finally right where you'd hoped you'd find him, alone with you.

///

Bo wasn't thinking when he stormed off, only trying to find space to clear his head. His frustrations and fears fogged his thoughts as he stomped toward the usually empty poolside. And when he looked up and saw you there, every worry and wonder faded from his head. All he saw was you. Finally.

///

"I'm sorry to interrupt I-" He stood awkwardly by the pool gate, assessing the way you sat. You snapped the book in your lap shut, and sat up perhaps too eagerly.

"You don't have to leave." You noted quickly, watching no change in the man's stance or uncertain expression. "It would be nice to have some company, for once." You boldly declare, letting a blush get the better of you all the while.

"Okay." He seemed to decide after a moment's consideration. You watch the man you'd been admiring move toward you, a caution in his step, an intensity in his gaze. His eyes fell too your lap and he asked what you were reading.

"Oh just some biography about a pianist. Glenn Go-"

"Glenn Gould?"

"Yeah, actually."

The man gleamed, seemingly enchanted. "I love him." He admitted. You sat there grinning just as wide, trying to comprehend just how divine this interaction felt. Like life had been leading up to this moment. Like life had been leading up to meeting...

"What is your name?" You wondered. Because you thought you knew it but didn't want to seem like some sort of creep that had been watching him from across the park for a handful of days...

"Bo. Yours?"

And after you'd told Bo what to call you, the floodgates slammed open and were torn off their imaginary hinges. The two of you didn't stop conversing for what felt like hours and hours on end. You were impressed by his vast knowledge, the shreds of it he shared in just this short time alone. You were taken aback by his honesty, listening with respectful intensity when he told you the exact events that led him and his family here tonight. You spoke assuredly when he asked you questions, because you could tell he was really listening to your answers.

There was a desperation to your interaction. Like you had only this one night to get to know Bo, and one chance to make an impression on him. But conversation flowed so easily, and the man sat so relaxed in the chair beside yours that time seemed to stall, and the air felt easier to breath all the while.

Then you asked Bo exactly why he'd come to the pool to escape at this odd hour of the night.

And he told you he'd gotten accepted into university, and had a big fight with his father about the ordeal. And then you asked him which university. And Bo revealed he'd been accepted to the same place you had been.

"I don't know what I'll do. How I'll get there. Or if I'll even be a realistically good fit. I just don't know..."

"Well one fact is for certain," You smiled at him. "If you wind up there, you'll have a friend waiting."

When you told Bo you had been accepted into the same school, he locked his stunning crystal eyes on yours and let his smiled grow wide as you'd seen it yet.

"Divine intervention. It must be." His words were softly spoken, and caused your body to buzz with excited wonder.

"If you need a way there, I leave in three days."

"I-I couldn't pay you. I wouldn't be any help at all." Bo sighed. He spoke a bit more about how frustrated he'd become with his parents for failing to prepare him for the real world. For how lost and hopeless he believed himself to be, despite quickly proving himself to be one of the more remarkable being you'd ever encountered.

"Come with me. Three days from now it won't matter what we do or don't know. It'll be a fresh start. Wanna?"

"But I-"

"Bo, yes or no. That's all you need to say." You smiled, leaning in closer toward his chair as he shifted there. The man you'd been shortly but intensely fascinated with started to nod, like he was winding up to answer for real.

"Yes. I'll go with you." Bo smiled and it was grin so stunning, it could've knocked you dead.

"I could use the company." You called back, making the both of you chuckle.

"Me too." Bo said. You soon gathered your drink and book, and let Bo promise he'd meet you poolside in three days' time. This new start just became all the more exciting.

[ellies-cycling-notes]

Day 11: Jordan Junction to Evitts Creek

Distance Covered: 76.72 miles

Total Time (including rests): 9:38 (7:51am-5:29pm)

Time spent riding: 6:34

Average Speed: 11.7 mph

Apples Eaten: 3 (jazz - 7.5/10, jazz - 6.5/10, jazz - 7/10)

Today's ride was a mix of good and bad. The riding itself went pretty well, staying on the C&O trail for almost the entire time. The C&O trail is a gravel path, so that's annoying, but it's still better than hilly paved roads. On the other hand, I did get a flat near the end of my ride, which kinda sucked, and even worse, I had to walk my bike for about 2.5 miles on a hilly hiking path because part of the C&O was closed off, and this was the only feasible detour. That detour is a large reason why my total time is 3 hours longer than my time spent riding.

There were almost no other bicyclists or joggers/hikers on the path today, so that was more relaxing. I spent a lot of the ride not thinking about anything and just enjoying the scenery. I am really tired out today, and am glad that tomorrow's ride is only ~68 miles. I did yoga, but I'm still going to do some more stretching, cause my legs are really hurting.

Notes on the Ride:

Counting sheep - I've started to count sheep as a way to fall asleep more quickly at campsites because I'd rather not just be laying in bed doing nothing for too long

More deer - I mentioned on previous days seeing deer once or twice crossing the path. Today, I lost count how many times there were deer right in front of me

Lots of wildlife - in addition to deer, I saw turtles, herons, ducks, frogs, cardinals, and even what looked like a wild cat. There're also a lot of bugs, but they're not the kind of wildlife I want to see.

Faulty pumps - I used my water filter multiple times today at pumps along the ride. However, some of the pumps didn't seem to want to work. I'd give them 20 or so pushes, and still no water would come out. Luckily, there's a pump every 3-5 miles on average, so when that happened I could just continue on to the next pump.

Bug in Mouth - I almost swallowed a fly that flew into my mouth as I was riding. Luckily, it got stuck on the outside of my teeth, and I was able to remove it.

Design Notes

Time loop

Possible Character roles (each player gets one, it influences what actions they can perform and what items they start with): captain, scientist, medical officer, engineer, security officer, navigator

Map: the map is a 3x5 grid of squares. The center square is the sleeping area, where all players start. Each room can have a player cap, which is the maximum number of people that can be in that room. The sleeping area has no player cap, but most rooms have a player cap. Here are some possible other rooms and possible player caps:

Cockpit - 2

Storage - 3

Escape Hatch - 1

Defense Controls - 1

Main Power Source - 3

Supplementary Power - 2

Emergency Power - 1

Food Hall - 4

Communications Room - 2/3

Meeting Room - no limit

Medical Bay - 3

Research room - 2

Brig - 2/3

Arms Supply - 2

Time events are what truly make this a legacy game, as they are the main part of the game which changes things from loop to loop. They are likely going to be necessary, despite the risks, in order to finally escape the time loop.

How serious do I want the game to be? If more comical, I can include more references, both to sci-fi in general and time travel specifically. For example: "time bandits" - a time event that steals an item; "it's bigger on the inside" - an event that removes the player cap for a room.

However, a more serious version would likely entice players who want to play the game more seriously, and take maximum advantage of things. In other words, I think it would be easier to apply a comical theme, but a more serious theme would better showcase what type of game it is.

Grid Delver

I also have a quick overview of the existing tiles in Grid Delver. Each tile is written out like this:

Tile Name - properties of tile; what level they first appear at; how common they are when they first appear; how much more common they become as you advance floors; whether they would be able to have points/gold on them in the new version; restrictions on how they might appead on the guaranteed path from start to finish

Tiles:

Floor - basic tile; level 0; high weight at start; low weight increase; can have points, can be on main path

Wall - block tile; level 0; high weight at first; grows slowly; no points; can't be on main path

Pit - deathtrap tile; level 0; medium weight at first; grows slowly; no points; can't be on main path

Mud - when you step on it, your next movement is skipped; level 1; medium weight at first; grows slowly; can have points; can be on main path

Ice - slide to the next tile after it when you step on it; level 2; low weight at first; increases quickly; can have points; can be on main path, but not on corners

Breaking Tile - a basic floor tile, but once you step on it, it turns into a pit on the next action; level 3; medium weight at first; medium growth; can have points; can be on main path

Jump - when you step on this tile, your next movement jumps forward, skipping a tile; level 4; low weight at first; slow growth; can have points; can be on the main path; but only if the next tile is not a corner

Quicksand - when stepped on, your next input must be "SPACE", if not, you die; level 5; low weight at first; fast growth; can have points; can be on main path

That's all for design notes. I know they might make a little less sense than usual, I just wanted to write down whatever was on my mind. I also didn't actually have much time to think about stuff, being too busy paying attention to scenery and then getting really tired.

I'm really looking forward to tomorrow, as I start the Great Allegheny Passage trail, which is much more of a dedicated bike path than the C&O trail. I've looked up a few bike shops so I should be able to replenish my supplies (mainly bike tube patches), and will probably also try to find a time to go grocery shopping, as I'm running low on bread, apples, and peanut butter.

Til next time!

Previous -- Today's Pics -- Next

[prince-toffee]

Sasha and Marcy

Sasha Marcy Resistance AU

Pt. 2

“Commander!” Sasha turned to see who was calling her, her eyes followed the voice to Maddie, who alongside Wally were bringing with them two prisoners, so to speak. Even though if Yunan really wanted to, she could’ve killed them all in the span of a single blink. “We found these two King-sympathisers near one of our campsites.” Maddie explained.

“For the last time; we’re not King-sympathisers!” Yunan annoyingly exclaimed.

“Silence, prisonah!” Wally shouted as he slapped a ball of mud into Yunan’s face to stop her from talking.

“I hate these people.” Yunan murmured to herself, which earned her more mud in the face.

“It’s true! We’re deserters!” Olivia remarked. She then caught Maddie’s hand full of mud with her foot while her hands were still bound in rope. “Don’t even try it.” She gave the young witch a look only a disapproving mother could. Maddie backed off.

“Ease up, frogs. They’re telling the truth. They’re my personal spies in Andrias’ organisation.” Sasha confirmed their stories. She came around and cut their bonds.

Yunan wiped the mud off of her face, “Finally.”

“We have spies?” Wally asked confused, “Did you know we had spies? In the King’s court no less. Nobody tells me anything these days.” Maddie just shrugged.

“Ex-spies, now, I’m afraid.” Olivia stated. “The King found us out.”

“I was wondering what happened after we lost communications with you guys. The lack of message bats got us worried.” Sasha remarked. “What happened?”

“Somehow King Andrias found out we had been feeding information to the Resistance, he said he had ‘eyes everywhere’. We decided to fight back. Yunan pulled some strings with her friends at The Newtopian Knight Guard. We staged a coup against The King… We lost.” Olivia’s head bowed down in shame.

Yunan clenched her fist, “That mad despot had us imprisoned and await public execution! Aargh! If I ever see him again, I’m going to turn him into sliced bread!” Yunan was a flame that never died down, always dialled up to 11. Especially when betrayed by her superiors.

“How did you two escape?” Sasha questioned.

“Prison riot.” Olivia answered.

Yunan chuckled as she slammed her fist into her palm, “Those stupid frobots left a cell door open. One thing led to another. A couple of boomshrooms. A couple of sweet moves; Bam! Wham! Heh, those tin cans never stood a chance against a real warrior.” Yunan flexed her muscles too absorbed in the moment.

“Here, here.” Grime agreed as he nodded.

“Well, I’m glad you guys are okay. We could use you here on the battlefield.” The blonde cheerleader sighed, as she massaged her temples, “Though those bot placements were useful. Now we’re totally blind. No idea how many bots are stationed where.” Sasha turned back to Grime, “Any word from Beatrix? Bufo? Aldo? Maybe at least Bog?”

“Uh, Bog’s dead. He got explodified in Andrias’ ‘demonstration’. But the other Toad Lords are in hiding, they’re very apprehensive to strike against Newtopia again so soon. Our last venture was, uhhhh, catastrophic to say the least.” Grime shrugged.

“Ugh.” Mean girl noises.

Yunan and Olivia exchanged a look. Yunan whispered, “Tell her.” Olivia sighed.

“Sasha… there is more.”

“What’s up?” Sasha asked with a quirked brow. She noticed that there was an expression of dread and sorrow on her face. Then the tears came. “What is it? What happened? You’re scaring me here, guys.” Sasha gave an awkward laugh.

“Sasha, Marcy is alive.”

The world stood still. All sound became muffled. All colour drained. Sasha both heard the words that left Olivia’s mouth, yet somehow she was incapable of processing and comprehending what she heard. It couldn’t be, could it? Sasha saw Marcy’s death with her own eyes. She replayed that moment in her head over and over again, churning over the facts, she couldn’t sleep. She saw it vividly when she closed her eyes. Anne and The Plantars rushing to the portal. Marcy tinkering with the box. Then, a flash of yellow flame, and then she muttered something under her breath Sasha was too far to hear. And then she fell. Sasha replayed the events of that day, the takeover, the fight with Anne; maybe if she did something differently Marcy would’ve been okay.

She couldn’t believe what she heard, “What?”

“We escaped through the basement passageways, I know them like the back of my hand, I used to sneak down and play there when I was little. But there was a room I had never seen before in my life. A room full of eyes. With a tank of strange fluid, suspended inside it was our little girl.” Olivia remarked. Sasha was speechless. “I know it was her. Andrias is keeping her as an experiment. We must rescue her before it’s too late!”

“Rescue?!” Grime questioned, “You want us to actually storm the castle, while flying, and armed! We don’t have the numbers. We’ll never last!” Grime protested.

“I DON’T CARE. She is my responsibility, and we are going back for her! Sasha please.” Olivia begged.

“It’s suicide!” Grime countered.

“Please Sasha. You know she’d do the same for you.” Olivia proclaimed.

“She’s alive.” Sasha whispered under her breath to herself as tears began to well up in her eyes. She moved her hands to cover up her face. She began to laugh, “She’s alive! She’s okay!”

“Sasha?” Grime asked concerned.

“We set off immediately.” Sasha announced as she wiped the tears away and marched off to the wartable. “Come on, let’s move it. We need to pack up and depart this campsite and move to our next position.” She began to roll up the maps and various other documents. Maddie and Wally went off to fold the tent up and move on. “Oh, and get these two some warm food, they must be tired.”

“Many thanks, my girl.” Olivia bowed as she took Yunan by the hand and dragged her further into the camp, where they served each a bowl of warm soup to lift their spirits.

Grime approached Sasha, he cleared his throat, “Commander, a word.”

“Yeah, Grimes?”

“Yes, I just wanted to ask: Are you barking mad!? Even with the united toad armies I could barely hold Newtopia for a day! And now without them, what chance do we stand?!”

“You underestimated these frogs before.” Sasha countered.

“This isn’t about the village folk’s prowess, Sasha. This is about dooming them! If we march on Andrias now, we are doomed!”

“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer! We’re rescuing Marcy… She needs me…

“But-”

“End of discussion!”

“Don’t use that tone with me young lady!”

“…Sorry…”

“…Sasha, I know you miss your friend. I’m sorry. But you’re not thinking straight. As Commander you must consider the troops!”

“This coming from the ‘Every dream has its price, and not everyone's willing to pay it’ guy? I thought you weren’t ‘afraid of death’.”

He signed, “I know you feel like you abandoned her. But you didn’t. If we hadn’t left, we would have died too.”

“Heh, how are you this good at reading me?” Sasha asked darkly.

Grime huffed, “Because I’ve had a lot of experience with what you’re going through. You’ve probably noticed I don’t have any friends, other than you, heh… People leave. You just endure.”

“No offense, but I don’t want to end up like you.” Sasha didn’t quite realise how hurtful it sounded until the words left her mouth. She and Grime both remained silent, both ashamed of their words. “…This isn’t the first time I failed her. All this, everything I do, I do for Anne and Marcy. I want to prove myself, I want to be a good person.” She turned back to Grime, “Can you help with that?” She asked expecting nothing.

He sighed, and smiled, “Of course, kiddo.” He placed a gentle hand onto Sasha’s shoulder, and patted her, “But now we just need to find an army that’ll fight with us against certain hovering death.” He scratched his chin while pondering on it.

“If you need an army look no further than these Newtopia neighbouring lands, the newt army Andrias just threw out scattered around these lands.” Sasha and Grime turned to Yunan who was leaning against a post listening on their conversation, while sipping on her soup. “Got a lot of friends in there who are just looking for an excuse to cave the King’s face in. You might be just what they’re looking for right now.” Sip. Gulp. “This is terrible by the way.” She stated with a monotone voice talking about the soup.

“…How long have to been standing there?” Sasha asked. Yunan just turned around and returned to be by Olivia’s side without words.

“Sounds like a plan?” Sasha smiled.

“Sounds like a plan.” Grime answered.

---

“Listen up, Wartwood! We’re going to march over to that moron King and we’re gonna kick his butt!” Wartwood cheered. “We’re going to save Marcy!” Cheering. “We’ll find Anne!” Cheering. “And we’re going to save this world!! Never surrender!”

To Be Continued

[thenihtgenga]

So, I was on holiday in Florida from the 9th-23rd of July. I just realised I totally forgot to post any of my holiday photos so... yep. Doing that now. Unfortunately my phone kind of broke half way through so I wasn't able to take photos for a bunch of stuff I would have loved to do so, but here! Florida Images!

One of the first places we visited was the Canaveral Space Center, where we saw Many Rockets And Cool Space Things.

Including the actual control room for the Apollo missions!

We also saw many gators throughout our trip, including: Biggest Gator! (outside a gator farm near Christmas)

Regular Gator! (on an airboat tour from Lone Cabbage Fish camp)

Baby Gator! (on the same tour)

Drain Gator! (Went for a walk at Paine's Prarie. There was a culvert under the path, and a gator was chilling in every pipe outlet)

And Fried Gator! (Lunch at Lone Cabbage. Left- right: gator basket, boneless buffalo wings, catfish basket)

Gators weren't the only wildlife we saw though- there was also Toilet Frog- the first (well, second, but it was meant to be first- we had an unplanned overnight stay in Tampa on night 1 because of a problem with the car rental) place we stayed at was a campsite with a composting toilet and shower block, in cubicles made from pallets lined with saw palmetto leaves. Frogs loved hanging out in there. The shower cubicle was more popular for obvious reasons, but for equally obvious reasons I didn't take my phone with me when I went for a shower. Look at this little guy though! So cute!

These lizards are anoles. The brown ones are invasive, the green ones are native. Both are adorable, and I spent Way Too Long trying to get a photo of one displaying its dewlap.

They're common as muck all over Florida so I probably looked like an absolute tit to the locals, but whatever. Even common wildlife is special, and it's not like they're common round where I'm from, so... Anyway, I got a photo of that guy in Fort Christmas Historical park. Merry Christmas.

Another common as muck piece of wildlife that I was really hoping to see was the birds- I've been really fond of cardinals and grackles for a long time, and I actually got to see them, yay!

(Blurry Cardinal found in Gainesville) To put this into perspective, this is like someone visiting the UK and getting excited to see, like... a jackdaw or a sparrow. But whatever, if you don't think Birds Are Cool, screw you.

Speaking of wildlife, we visited Blue Springs (And Silver Springs, but I got no photos there. Which is a shame because godsdamn that place was beautiful), where I saw: Vultures! (another really common bird in Florida, we saw them all over the place, but not generally in such large groups)

Terrapins!

More gators! (lots of gator photos already and I didn't get a good picture of this one, so I'mma skip it)

Armoured Dildos!

Many fish, including these gar! (not sure exactly what species these ones are, but I think they're either Florida or longnose gar. Both species were present in the spring, as well as catfish and plenty of other species.)

There was also plenty of insect life present, such as this beautiful (and freakin' huge) dragonfly that stopped to rest next to us for a minute or two while we ate lunch.

And here's a photo of the area we swam in.

Blue Springs has the spring pool and a section of river available for swimming, then there's a floating barricade, downstream of which swimming is forbidden as it's kept as a conservation area for manattee. Which don't understand what a barricade is and apparently Do Not Care about people, because one swam up into the spring pool. I still can't believe I got to swim with a manattee! Of course I tried to maintain a respectful distance from it (I tried to keep around 12ft away, though this did go down to about 6ft at one point when it started swimming towards me) but thanks to the water diffraction it looked like it was so close I could reach out and touch it. No photos alas, because phones and water Do Not Mix, though I did get some manattee photos a few days later!

This was at the manattee observation deck on Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, where we saw somewhere around 27-30 manattees. Seriously, there were so many manattees.

I also saw a snake in those rocks in the foreground. Couldn't identify the species alas, as I only saw part of its body between two rocks- I actually thought it was a discarded piece of black pipe at first, until it slithered away!

Going from the natural to the technological, that evening we had an excellent dinner at the Old Florida Bar And Grill, from the deck of which we watched a space launch! The photos don't do it justice, it was incredible.

Musk is a prick and fuck capitalism taking over the space industry, but... all that aside, this was inspiring. It's not just SpaceX's achievement, it's humanity's.

And finally, here's a nice bit of wall art I found while exploring Railroad Square Art District in Tallahassee

And a fishy mailbox from the same area

And alas, that's it! There was so much more stuff that I would have loved to take photos of, but alas, when your camera's borked and literally Can Not Save The Pictures Any More, there's not much you can do. Ah well, still have the memories, at least.

[jiessicas]

07.09.23 & 07.10.23 OOO ⛺🌳🌊

camping is so cool. i want to go back! it was my second time (the last time was 2016 in northern idaho); it feels like a deeply american thing to want to go out into a designated patch of land to live off of as a recreational activity and…. i get the appeal though i hope that the practice can be parlayed into something more communal/integrated into my life in a city (the fantasy of having a tidy, self contained existence…. as a kid i liked how turtles had their homes seemingly wherever they went)

i think about someone who said, only white poets write about animals, and nature (and i get the sentiment), and at the same time, i think i want to build my connection to the natural world, which i never really thought of as a place for me to feel a connection to / to linger within growing up

we traveled through so many climates / terrains, all in one day (huge shout out l, the mvp) — california is incredible and i’m convinced the american dream is to have a little plot and a little chair to sit in the sun within (and maybe a driver’s license and an open road— i just got a reminder to renew mine, though i haven’t used it in the four years i’ve had it)

feel so scattered but maybe that's the whole point; so many new things to take in/process (as is always the case, it seems); so many conversations i'm grateful for this weekend

07.09.23

pretty winged things in your area (encountering beautifly among others on pokemon go)

found another lil grounding tether (signed up for a generative spec fic class in august)

The Week I Had Three Açaí Bowls, The Third Of Which I Regurgitated Into A Trashbag On A Road-trip To Petaluma

hot girls (me) drink like 3 liquids simultaneously (pocari sweat; ginger tea; ?sodium? water) when their stomach isn't cooperating; more being humbled by my body; was a lil more sensitive to car sickness than usual

saw a plushie of three peas in a pod on someone's dashboard

drove through the windows xp hills

gathered treats & supplies at target/tj/sports basement

there was someone at sports basement who set us off with a "have a great camping trip" who had randall park vibes -- it was sweet, and built up this feeling for me of like, living out a second adolescence to do the camping i wasn't really interested in growing up

got to the campsite ~7p; spent the whole time figuring out how to put one (1) stake in the ground while s figured out the rest... "they're like origami shelters" - l

gathering around fires; there was prechopped wood lying around, watching the moss burn was trippy

subsisted (contently) off of baby yogurt pouches and hot dogs/brioche

around the campfire, talked about ghost stories / familial histories; roasted hot dogs; toasted some bread, listened to the frogs ribbit; brushed some earwigs off of our stuff; went to sleep with the cover off to look at the sky

07.10.23

woke up, wandered around, saw some deer crossing the creek by the visitors' center from a couple dozen feet away; we just looked at each other for a while; there seemed to be groups of parents and their fawns? the smallest ones looked like really jumpy puppies when they skittered across

our campsite felt like a cute pop-up small town; there were two kids on a bike, going in circles around the campgrounds, everyone was set up and lounging, almost as if we each had a front porch facing into a shared circle/meadow

we went on a small hike, saw lizards pumping their arms and basking in the sun, really tall dandelions, a tiny observatory that also laid out a hiking trail with the solar system scaled down to their trails; a community science center

microdosing small town america...dropped off our gear and meandered to a town f grew up in, first stopping by a bagel shop they would walk to after school, then ambling through the downtown, where i bought a few poetry books, and then some; it was really sweet to find a book that anthologized poets from the region; it was really special to get to read it on the drive back

in the downtown, there were also especially tall lavender plants and honeybees; we stopped into a shop that sold fossils?! and meteorites?! working theory is that this place is asteroid city in disguise....

walking around a bakery/community garden, i couldn't help but think about how the things we consider utopic often are concerned with just having like, enough to be comfortable -- why can't there be community gardens and green spaces that everyone has access to?

we also stopped by a grocery store to buy stone fruit, pet a cute dog in a bandana, take some funny wes anderson-y pictures; tomales bay for oysters; various scenic lookouts along the pch

++ a really nice conversation with questions prompted by s: what would make sense only for this summer? for these six weeks? what makes it go well? what kinds of installation pieces? what kinds of group projects?

[clamorybus]

sometimes i forget that other people have a different idea of 'camping' than my family does

the campground we frequent used to be farmland in new hampshire. its owned by one family, and now descendants of the family made it into a family-only campground. we aren't related to the family, but it's my dad's best friend's family, so he's been going there every year since he was 15. so adopted family, in a sense.

the campsites are lots you have to pay rent for (and electricity if you use it). each family gets to put their own site together. most campsites are what you expect: a camper or a tent with a grill and a fireplace

but my dad? he loves this campground more than the blood relatives do. pretty sure more than he loves me (and he adores me!). and because he's a carpenter with a love of the trade, he goes BANANAS. like when i was a toddler we lived in a tent, and between then and adulthood we lived in trailers. then my dad built a closed-in porch around the camper. its basically a mini-cabin with a fully functional kitchen. i haven't gone up in a few years but apparently he's removed the trailer altogether and made it an actual cabin. plus a small one on the side of the lot for my brother, SIL, and niece when they stay up there. and a little gazebo for the grill and cooler. an a fence that doubles as firewood storage. and old fairylights strung over the place

it's been a decades' long project for him, but that campsite is his pride and joy. honestly it was worth it for all those mornings he woke me up with his buzz saw. tbh the only reason he hasn't built more is because the town won't give him the permits ajdjsk.

we legitmately have the best campsite out of all of them. and i WILL brag because i am very proud of my father 😌 and tbh everyone there agrees; my dad is there legitimately every weekend, as opposed to a few times a season, so it's also the cleanest and in the best shape

but enough about the campsites ahdjsla it's all about the people! they're, well...the kind of northerners who think they're ""Country"" because they own a gun and listen to country 102.5 on the radio. you know what i mean? which is. obnoxious in many ways, to say the least. fun crowd to get drunk with though

a lot of them are people i disagree with on a fundamental level, so i tend to avoid them and give a polite 'hi how are ya' when they approach me. that feels really passive aggressive and wishy-washy tbh. i do wish i had the guts to speak my mind with them more.

growing up at Camp was really fun though! since everyone knew each other we all looked after each other. there were kids of all ages, and the older ones usually watched over the tots. kind of parentification ig, but again most people only went there occasionally so its more like reluctant baby sitting for an afternoon. and as long as we told mom where we were heading off to, we got to do whatever. we basically got to free roam starting when we were five.

we didn't have anything fancy like a pool or an arcade, but we had a playground (my autistic ass spent most of my time on the swings. like from 11 to 18, most of the time i was up there i was on the swings). we had a horseshoe pit, a creek behind the horseshoe pit that the drunk adults would piss in at night and we kids would splash barefoot in the next day. we caught frogs and newts and snakes and fireflies. deep in the woods, there was this huge "quarry" (some kind of acre wide crater left behind from an abandoned construction project); it was a rite of passage for kids to make the trek there. i always described the place as looking like a stereotypical photo of Arizona. we could play in that sand pit for hours, but we were always afraid some construction foreman would jump out of the woods and catch us, even though no one had been there for years

most of the time, Camp is a mellow place where you can kick back, crack open a cold one, and shoot the shit around the campfire. but MAN are holidays a party! labor day, fourth of july, and memorial day are biggest weekends, natch. almost everyone makes it up there. there's bingo, ice cream and popcorn, karaoke (one of the families have a little band so they have the equipment), and a lot of alcohol. there's drunken dads and uncles setting up fireworks on the fourth that go off dangerously close to the trees. kids whipping each other with glow sticks. it's a blast!

though the *best* time is Reunion! it's a family campground, after all. if a family can only make it up once a year, its for reunion. reunion is like the other holidays, but more! first of all, it's the first weekend of august so it's always around my dad's birthday, so we usually celebrate there. but outside of that, the families all get an assignment for the weekend. some families work as full-on food vendors--hot dogs, homemade fries, ice cream, popcorn, the works! there's games for the kids on saturday morning; sack races, three legged races, tug of war, etc. another family manage the Chinese Auction, the big event of the weekend. it's just a raffle so idk why they call it that. but everyone brings in something, and one family a year is in charge of maintaining the auction; selling the tickets, organizing the prize tables, calling the names on Sunday, yknow. friday or saturday evening is a big potluck. the family with the band usually plays live music on Saturday nights. on sunday morning, another family is in charge of making breakfast for everyone at the pavilion. at 6 am sharp. it varies a bit but it's usually scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, pancakes, home frieds, oj, and coffee. though this one family always serves biscuits and gravy which are 👄👌. and the best part is: my family isn't blood family so we never have to do anything but partake in the festivities 😌

okay this is REALLY long, and for no good reason ajdjdksk. but camp means a lot to me, for better or worse. i do have complicated feelings about it. it's legitimately my second home, and the people there are my second family. they fully watched me grow up, and ive watched the younger kids grow up, and now they're having kids. i had alcohol for the first time there, shot a gun for the first time, got drunk for the first time, had my first kiss there, learned to fish, learned to swim, learned to drive. never once as a kid did i feel afraid there. i got to be free and have fun.

but it feels different as an adult. a lot of people there are the total opposite of me politically. a lot of them are racist, homo and transphobic, and military bootlickers and every other sentence out of their mouth makes me violently angry. all the adults there knew me since i was in my mother's guts and they watched me grow up, but that didn't stop some of the men--my honorary uncles--from undressing me with their eyes or making passes at me. growing up there were campsites i wasn't even allowed to *walk by* when the campers there are drinking. when he was a teenager, camp is where my older brother got cigarettes and drugs when his football teammates held out on him. there's horrible things that happen behind closed doors that the adults would ignore because 'xyz is such a good guy/woman otherwise!'. a lot of problems you find in any community, i guess. it's complicated

[justcallmel0u1e]

Stuttering With June 

Chapter 6: Panic Attack

I woke up and I was still in the bus with all the other kids. I noticed something beside me it was a tiny piece of paper. I opened it up and it said “Im sorry for my brother Ivan behavoir. i promise he did not mean it

From Andrei” 

I noticed that there was some spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes. And at the bottom it said ‘From Andrei. I assumed it was from the tall boy that came with the tiny little brat. 

The bus finally stopped at the MASSIVE ?! “T-T-THEY C-C-C-C-CALL T-THIS A C-C-CAMPSITE”. I said with a shocked look and little bit embarrassed from my stutter. Adrianna slowly woke up her head was leaning on my shoulder. I kind of turned red because of that. She didn’t seem bothered or embarrassed because of leaning of shoulder it was just me. 

But as soon as she the campsite I saw her eyes go in shock. I saw her trying to speak but only a few sounds came out and after that I saw her eyes full with pain. “H-H-Hey a-a—a-are y-y-you o-o-o-okay” I say now comfortably. Since I know that she won’t make me fun of me for it. Mae gave me a certain feeling in my heart that I have never felt before. It felt strange but also comforting and soothing. 

I quickly get snapped out of my thoughts by Mae tapping on my shoulder. She was holding up her little notepad saying 

Sorry I just have a very sore throat. :)

“O-O-Oh no I-I-I-It’s c-completely f-f-f-fine” I said nervously trying not to make her upset. 

*Time Skip* 

After a while of getting sorted out. Which was very hard since there so many god damn kids in here. But anyways they gave us a camp ID that we can use for things, I DON’T KNOW OKAY?!. 

As I looked at my camp ID it said simple things like. 

Name: Juan Reyes 

Age: 15 

Height: 5,8 

Disability/Mental illness etc: Anxiety 

Race: Hispanic 

And even more stuff I don’t care about. They send us to go and look for our cabins my cabin is cabin 7. The cabins were 4 people of the same gender in one cabin. I’m pretty anxious to see who my cabin mates are. I notice my hand slightly start shaking and becoming sweaty. I try getting rid of the feeling but it won’t go away so I put it my pocket. 

I started feeling frustrated with myself. ‘I hope they like me. Wait………… what if they don’t like me,what if they think I’m stupid for my stutter’ I think as I notice my hands and my legs start trembling. Then my palms were slowly but surely becoming more sweaty. I felt like my breath was shortening and my heart was pumping faster than it has ever gone. 

‘WHATS HAPPENING TO ME’ I thought. A bunch of negative thoughts were zooming through brain. I felt this feeling before once , it was in 8th grade. 

*Flash back* 

Third person POV: 

When June was in the 8th grade his schools principal assigned the whole 8th grade to make a project on a specific type of animal. June chose frogs because they were his favorite animals. He was very anxious because he was going to have to present his project to the whole 7th and 6th grade. 

After working on it for a 2 days. To work on the project it was finally time to present to the 6th and 7th graders. 

After waiting for a while He felt this sense of worry in my stomach. And his heart was beating way faster than usual. He was feeling this paranoid feeling. Then he noticed how his palms were getting sweaty but he decided to ignore it just for now. 

When it was time for June to present to all the others kids the principal called his name. “Next up is Joo-Anne ? Is it fine if I call you J.R” He whispers to June as he quickly nods. “Next up J.R !” He exclaims to the kids who seemed honestly bored. 

When June stepped onto the stage he felt the feeling in his chest increase. He also felt an urge to vomit. But not to the point where he wanted to fully quit since he hadn’t seen the 6th and 7th graders. 

“Frogs: F-F-Frogs a-“ he noticed all the people. His heart dropped as he saw all the kids. His heart beat was speeding up, he was having difficulty breathing, he was sweating incredibly, he was hyperventilating and he was trembling. June had never in his life felt this kind of feeling before so he didn’t know how to control it.

June zoomed out of the stage while crying and leaving his project on the ground. Many teachers tried to control him but he pushed them all away. 

All he wanted to do was go home . 

End of chapter 6

(BTW sorry it took so long)

[theblondegoesabroad]

Day 31

Wednesday 1st June 2022

This morning we had a little bit of rain so decided to sleep in a bit and when we got up it was sunshine and blue skies. What a treat. For breakfast Benoît made himself some toasted sandwiches and I had a fruit salad. We then headed off for our day. First to the supermarket to grab a few things and then to Holyhead. At Holyhead we walked the mountain. It was a stunning day. I could have worn shorts. Which would have been a rareity for me on this summer trip in the uk. I am definately looking forward to a nz summer to be able to wear all my summer clothes! But today was stunning, even the wind was warm. Bliss. We walked around and up Holyhead mountain. A nice like walk which beautiful views towards Ireland. I tried to tempt Benoit to get on the ferry to Dublin, but he’s right, not enough time for that many kms, but still so neat to be so close to possibilities! After our walk we headed to one of the many burial chambers on Anglesey. We visited Barclodiad y Gawres burial mound. It is an example of a cruciform passage grave, a notable feature being its decorated stones. Similar graves and marks exist across the Irish Sea in the Boyne Valley. Apparently full excavations were performed in 1952–53, after which the chamber was re-roofed with concrete and covered with turf to resemble the original structure. During the excavations two cremated young male burials were found within the south-western side-chamber. The central area of the main chamber contained the remains of a fire on which had been poured a stew which had been made with wrasse, eel, frog, toad, grass snake, mouse, shrew and hare, then covered with limpet shells and pebbles. Delicious huh. It was slightly underwhelming to see but the history and the stories behind it, the questions, I can understand how people can get lost in the past. This afternoon we headed back to our farm campsite and spent the afternoon with the ducks in the sun. Benoît made the most of the free time to get a bit of study done as he has his final vestibular exam coming up mid June when he is heading back to Brussels for the weekend. I spent the afternoon getting dinner ready and chopping up fruit. We grabbed a bargain basket at the local supermarket where it has a mix of fruits and veges that need to be eaten rather quickly, they are super good value, only 1.50£ for a box of things. But it requires you to be a bit inventive. Usually we chuck all the veggies into a bolognaise sauce, or into a risotto. But today we had a heap of fruit grapes, apricots and a mango. As well a heap of potatoes (but those are good for ages) So I spent my afternoon prepping a massive fruit salad for the next few days. Then onto dinner, we decided we wanted to give making bread a go in the wild. So I mixed up the recipe for dads naan breads and then made a type of stuffing thing with peppers, onions, ham, garlic, tomatoe pesto and cheese. It was rather good if you ask me. Then we made turn over things with the dough and cooked them with some olive oil. Served with the last scrapings of our couscous. It was a pretty good meal. To top it off we headed to the super market, bought ourselves a mini tub of ice cream and took that, our bottle of tea and our fruit to a little spot in the sunshine for dessert. Love kate xxxx

[pedalnorthvatome]

Riding day 13!

Friday the 13th. Lucky day or unlucky day? For us, it was a lucky day. Did I tell you yesterday that Norfolk is the highest point in Connecticut. What that meant for us was a fun filled descent from Norfolk along Sandy Brook to the Barkhamstead Reservoir. Twelve miles of smooth pavement, wide curves, and light traffic. Along the way we saw fly fishermen in the river and cyclists climbing back towards Norfolk (suckers).

Around mile 15 we pulled into Riverton and stopped at the General Store for our 15 mile snack. The only difference this time was the fact that we had just left our Warmshowers host an hour before. Usually, the first 15 miles would take us 30+ minutes more.

Riverton GS for coffee/tea and blueberry pound cake!

Found Philip’s next bike outside the General Store. Check out the speed-o-meter.

Regarding our Warmshowers host, we really have to thank Tom again. He gave us free access to his kitchen this morning and we made ourselves a fine egg and English muffin breakfast. We then enjoyed coffee/tea with him before we packed up and headed out. Later in the day he checked on us to see how we enjoyed the drop out of Norfolk. As a fellow cyclist, he knew it would be a blast.

Us and Tom. Would have loved to have met Barbara… great people.

He also knew that the climb from the reservoir was going to be hell, and he was right. We climbed for about 4 miles to make up for the fantastic descent earlier in the day. And it wasn’t the only miserable climb. We did 4 or 5 multi-mile climbs with the last registering a 13% grade at one point. For you non-cyclists, 13% is killer to walk. Add 30 pounds of bike and 30+ pounds of gear and it is hell on a wheels. However, I’ve learned that I can stay upright at 3 miles per hour on my bike.

Philip, you’re going the wrong way!!!!

General country road pic. Let’s face it, my iPhone does this trip no justice. Come see if for yourself.

Somewhere along the way we stopped for a late lunch. We sat at the bar and ordered our food and cokes (we consume too many of these but they give us the jolt we need). Across the bar were two couple who came up from Delaware. One of the ladies was in town to walk at graduation with her class. She took all of her classes online and had never been on campus. She picked the perfect time to visit… graduation day. Good thing graduation is tomorrow. They were all loaded today! Regardless, they were fun drunks. They wished us well and promised to drive wide when they passed cyclists.

At some point in the day we arranged for tonight’s campsite. Doug, the owner, said he’d find space for us so we figured we were good to go. Long story short, he gave us a group site along the lake with a nice grassy patch for our tents, away from the rest of the campers. We enjoyed our dinner and then sat back with a bourbon as it grew darker. The moon was almost full and the tree frogs were peeping like mad.

Tasty camp food!

All in all, a good day.

Cheers.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

We Were Something, Don’t You Think So? [Chapter 2: The Middle Of Nowhere]

You are a Russian Grand Duchess in a time of revolution. Ben Hardy is a British government official tasked with smuggling you across Europe. You hate each other.

This is a work of fiction loosely inspired by the events of the Russian Revolution (1917-1923) and the downfall of the Romanov family. Many creative liberties were taken. No offense is meant to any actual people. Thank you for reading! :)

Song inspiration: “the 1” by Taylor Swift.

Chapter warnings: Lots of shouting, if you never learned about the Russian Revolution then here's your mini crash course, references to historical stuff like violence and disease, Kroshka the mule emerges as the only emotionally stable character.

Word count: 4.1k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

Taglist: @imtheinvisiblequeen @okilover02 @adrenaline-roulette @youngpastafanmug @m-1234 @tensecondvacation @deacyblues @haileymorelikestupid @rogerfuckintaylor @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @mo-whore

I wake up feeling harder, as if sleeping on the ground with all its stones and cool indifference has taught my spine to straighten, to endure. This is a welcome revelation. I will need to be resilient, for my family and for myself. I also wake determined to set things right with my rescuer. I am a perfectly charming person, Mother and Papa have always said so; I’m not painfully shy like Olga, or aloof like Tati, or rather dull like Maria, and I certainly don’t run around putting frogs in people’s shoes like Anastasia. I make for excellent company. Surely Ben will realize this and we will become inseparable travel companions.

Outside in the overcast brisk morning air, Ben is already busy tacking the mule. He glances over and tosses me an apple. It bounces out of my floundering hands and rolls off into the woods. This is not an auspicious start to the day.

“You’ll still have to eat that,” Ben says. “There’s no extra food. I was only able to ask for as much as I could justify needing myself.”

“Right.” I go fetch the apple—rummaging around in leaves and sticks and shrubs—and take a bite, even though it’s bruised and definitely tastes like dirt. I beam at Ben triumphantly. I am tough! I am daring! I am enchanting! I can pull my own weight on this journey!

Ben doesn’t seem to notice. He pats the mule’s thick brown neck and smiles fondly at her. “How are we feeling this morning, Kroshka? Hmm? Who’s a lovely mule? Who’s going to take us all the way to the Trans-Siberian Railroad without even one measly word of complaint? That’s right, you are! Yes you are!” He lands a smacking kiss on the velvety grey fur of her muzzle.

I attempt polite conversation; more than that, I endeavor to learn about my dashing yet evasive rescuer. “So, tell me Ben, have you worked for Sir Buchanan long?”

“Four years,” Ben replies curtly.

“And you are…” I think of his notebook. “A…writer of some sort for him…?”

“I’m his press attaché.”

“Ah.” I recognize the French word for ‘attach,’ but not its meaning in the context of employment with an ambassador. “I can’t say I know what that entails.”

“I handle Sir Buchanan’s relations with the Russian newspapers. Drafting statements and briefing him on local opinions and the like. And since his health has declined, I find myself delivering some of his particularly confidential correspondence.”

“Oh, I see. And he could spare you for this mission? It seems like a burden that would be better carried by a man with military or exploratory experience.”

“My Russian is passable. And I can tolerate rougher conditions than most.” He points to a pile of clothes he’s laid out on a tree stump. “Those are for you. There’s a stream out that way.” He flicks a thumb towards the east. “Get ready however you need to, but be prepared to leave in fifteen minutes.”

I examine the clothing: plain and practical undergarments, a heavy wool sweater, stockings, boots, and something unexpected. I hold them up with clammy hands. “These are…” I swallow noisily. “Trousers.”

“Yes. They’re travel attire. Comfortable and easy to maneuver in if we need to move quickly.”

“I’ve never worn trousers before.”

“I thought you were amenable to a…a…what did you call it? An adventure. A grand adventure.” He says this melodramatically, like there’s some humor in it. Like he’s mocking me.

“I suppose I am,” I mutter, still scrutinizing the trousers.

“Fifteen minutes,” Ben reminds me sternly. Then he begins to disassemble the tent.

I trudge off through the woods until I find the stream. I clean myself with ice-cold water, drink it down until my teeth ache, change out of my nightgown and into these strange new clothes—Trousers! Mother would lock me in church for a month!—and gaze up into the cloudy, pastel blue sky that peeks between the fingers of the trees. It is very still here, and cold, and deathly quiet. I try to remember the last time I was truly alone, without Mother or Papa or my siblings or servants or guards within shouting distance. There is none that I can remember; perhaps there is none at all. Out here in the Siberian wilderness I feel unmoored from civilization, diminutive, vulnerable, peculiarly inconsequential. I decide I don’t like being alone. By the time I return to our campsite, Ben is ready and waiting beside the loaded cart. His right hand is resting on a clunky metal monster with ‘Olivetti’ written on it.

“I’m a press attaché,” he says with a mischievous grin. “And you’re a typist.”

“A what?”

“You work for Sir Buchanan’s office as a typist. That’s our story, anyway. You came along to assist me during my audience with the former tsar, and now we’re traveling back to Sir Buchanan’s headquarters in Saint Petersburg. So if anyone happens to ask, that’s what you are to tell them. Oh, and you’re British. Your English sounds clean enough.”

“Alright,” I reply, still gaping at the metal monster like a black box with gnashing fangs. “But what is that?”

Ben’s jaw falls open. “You don’t…?” Then he rubs his forehead, sighing deeply. “Jesus Christ. You’ve never used a typewriter. Of course you haven’t. Great. Fantastic.”

“We always write by hand. My penmanship is flawless, Mother saw to that.” She’s still battling with Anastasia, but that’s a war that may go on as long as the one between the sun and the moon.

“Okay. Okay. This works out, actually. Because I’m not going to entertain you all day. So here is your assignment.” Ben slaps the back of what he tells me is a typewriter, and then waves for me to come closer. He reaches into the pocket of his coat and produces a British passport. Every line is filled out except for the name. He slides the paper into the machine and makes some bewildering adjustments. “So, you insert the paper, set the carriage—that’s this roller-type piece here—and type.” He taps forcefully on the keys until two words appear in the blank reserved for the passport holder’s name: Lana Brinkley.

“That’s me?” I ask doubtfully.

Ben smirks, amused. “That’s you.”

“So you could have given me a better name if you wanted to!”

“But then how would you learn humility?” He removes the fraudulent passport, shakes the paper until it dries, folds it into a neat little square, and slips it back into his coat pocket. “If you’re typing a longer message, the typewriter will ding when you’ve reached the end of each line. Then you use the lever to move the paper down, reset the carriage, and resume typing.”

I nod, but without much confidence. This seems complicated.

“You said you wanted a carriage,” Ben teases.

“Yes, one with magnificent draft horses and velvet seats and preferably no less than two servants. Not…whatever that is.”

“Well, if you’re going to pass for a typist, I’m afraid you must learn to type.” He finds me a stack of blank paper in his collection of bags and trunks, and then climbs into the front of the cart as I get into the back. The trousers, I hate to admit to myself, do make it easier to move around, although I’m not sure I approve of how much they accentuate the shape of my body. The thought of Ben looking at me in them gives me a plunging sort of feeling that is half-mortification and half-thrill…not that he has exhibited any interest at all. “Before we go any farther, do you have anything with you that I don’t know about?”

He means things like the heirlooms I have squirreled away in the large steamer trunk: the jewels sewn into my dress, the photograph. I can sense that he wouldn’t want me to have them, although I’m not sure why. In any case, I have no intention of giving them up. The jewels are the only thing of value that I have to trade if we find ourselves in a desperate situation. The photograph is the only string left that connects me back to my family, my home. “No,” I reply primly.

“Good.” He whistles at the mule and she tugs us through the trees and out onto the dirt road that leads, eventually, to the train station. As we ride joltingly along, the creaky cart wheels bumping over every rock and mound and muddy trough, I practice my typing: very slowly at first, and with only my index fingers. I read aloud as I go, gradually picking up speed.

“There once was a German princess born in the Duchy of Hesse. She was very beautiful but very shy. She had a wonderful talent for playing piano, but would run and hide if anyone asked her to perform in public. One day, when she was attending the wedding of her sister, the princess met a prince from a distant kingdom. They were only children, but they instantly knew they had found true love. They snuck off together and carved their names into a window pane. Over the years, each conspired to marry the other. They refused many suitors and wrote each other hundreds of letters. His family did not approve of the princess’s religion and lack of charisma; her family did not approve of the prince’s distant and troubled nation. But at last it became apparent to all that no earthly forces could keep the couple apart. Ten years after their first meeting, the prince and princess were finally married. And they lived joyously and peacefully in each other’s service for the rest of their days.”

Ben lights one of his hand-rolled cigarettes. The smoke doesn’t bother me; on the contrary, it reminds me of Papa smoking his pipe in his study, in the garden, as he read to us by the fireplace, as he danced with Mother in ballrooms back when she could still dance. It reminds me of home. “I’m not sure if you’ll ever give Shakespeare a run for his money, but I’ll admit I’m marginally entertained.”

I smile to myself, sentimental warmth rising in my face. “It’s Papa and Mother’s story.”

“Huh. I didn’t know your people were allowed to marry for love.”

By ‘your people,’ he seems to mean royalty, and there is some derision in his deep voice. “Well, surely duty must come first. But when love can accompany it, that’s a happy coincidence.”

“And what if duty compels you to marry a man who is, say, cruel? Or dreadfully boring? Or in love with another woman? Or who closely resembles a mole-rat?”

I resume my typing with a new exercise. For each letter of the alphabet, I type a French word that begins with it. “I don’t think that sort of thing happens very often.”

“But if it did.”

I shrug, not especially enjoying this topic of discussion. “Then duty comes first, as I said. But I believe most royal couples are perfectly content. At least nine out of every ten.”

“That many!” Ben marvels sarcastically. “Have you ever considered that your own personal experience, as pleasant as it may be, could be coloring your perception of how the world works?”

I ignore him and continue my typing. Attaché for A, bisou for B, croissant for C, doux for D…

After a moment, Ben says: “You aren’t going to regale me with another fairytale? I’m devastated.”

“I’m busy practicing my French now. Please don’t intrude.”

“You speak French as well as Russian and English?” He sounds impressed; for a split second anyway, just long enough for me to catch it like a firefly in my fist.

“And Italian, and Latin. And I’ve just started on Japanese.”

“But no German? That seems like it would be an easier beast to slay.”

“I’ve always purposefully avoided learning it, even though Mother’s family is German. I never envisioned myself marrying a German. I figured Maria could take that bullet. She doesn’t care, she’d marry anyone who could give her a castle and ten babies and a bulldog or two. I would say she was a milkmaid in a past life, but Mother’s heart would stop dead if she thought I subscribed to reincarnation.”

“Not fond of Germans?” Ben asks. “Well, who can blame you. Half the world isn’t fond of them at the moment.”

“I suppose they weren’t so awful before the Great War. But they’re rather boorish, aren’t they? They always sound like they’re angry. Like someone just stole their horse and they’re screaming at them from the front porch to come back or else.” I smile dreamily as I type. “I’ve always fancied the thought of marrying a prince from a glamorous, romantic kingdom. Maybe Italy or Greece. There has even been talk of me marrying Uncle George’s eldest son David. He’s rather beguiling. Tall and slim. Clear blue eyes like a lake. And he’s going to be the king of the British Empire one day, you know. We could holiday together in beautiful, sunny colonies like the Bahamas.”

“You’re still as important as all that? Important enough to make a marriage of that political significance, I mean.” Ben glances back at me and lifts one thick, dark, inquisitive eyebrow. “Seeing as your family doesn’t have a kingdom anymore.”

This is an insensitive thing for him to say. I frown down at the typewriter. “A wife almost always assumes the kingdom of her husband, so why should she require her own? She needs only sound breeding and a suitable temperament. And besides, we might yet return one day.”

Ben twists all the way around to stare at me, the reigns falling out of his hands. Fortunately, the mule seems to know her own way around. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It has been a brutal few years. The Great War, the supply shortages, the bad harvests…the people are frustrated, and understandably so. They lashed out blindly, at those who didn’t deserve it, at us. But the dust will clear. And when it does, I think the Russian people will come to their senses and realize that they want us back. That they need us.”

“Are you insane?” Ben snaps. “Are you utterly brainless? What’s floating around in that skull besides fiction and languages you’ll never use once you’re married off to some prince who only sees you as a broodmare?”

“How dare you! You can’t speak to me like this—!”

“For years, for a bloody decade, Sir Buchanan warned your father about what was coming. He tried to get him to moderate his views, to give the people more voice in government, to stop murdering them when they protested. And when none of that worked and the end was apparent, Sir Buchanan tried to convince your father to abdicate long before he did. Don’t you understand?! None of this needed to happen! Your family could have fled to Britain years ago, before the animosity against your father spread like wildfire across the globe, and Russia could have established their own parliament like Britain’s and negotiated a peace treaty to stay out of the war and none of us would be here now if not for your father’s selfish, pointless obstinacy—!”

“My father is a good man,” I choke out as hot, furious tears burn in my eyes.

“And he was a terrible ruler!” Ben shoots back like artillery. “He ordered protesters to be butchered, he sent untrained boys to die in some other country’s war, he clung to the throne for no one’s benefit but his own—”

“And what about my benefit?” I demand, still weeping, feeling monstrously like a child. “What about my mother’s and my sisters’ and Alexei’s? He must have feared for our futures if we were dethroned and left without any resources, any security, anyplace to call home—”

“He did you no favors,” Ben says harshly. “Half the country—the country that you obviously have not even a rudimentary understanding of—are moderates scrambling to secure the Provisional Government and disentangle themselves from the war while still somehow preserving their dignity and that of the millions of dead soldiers Russia has already laid on the altar. The other half are trying to instigate a wholesale communist revolution. There is no one, no one, who wants the tsar back. And you better pray to God that the communists don’t manage to seize power before King George gets your family out, or your father just might be guillotined on the steps of Saint Basil’s Cathedral.”

I bolt to my feet unsteadily, grip the side of the lurching cart, and leap out onto the dirt road.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Ben shouts after me.

I take off sprinting down the road, the wind whipping my face, sobbing as I run beneath the shadows of trees until my lungs are columns of flames and my legs feel wobbly and boneless. I can hear the pounding of the mule’s hooves approaching, the hurtling of wooden wheels, the slapping of leather reins. I am forced to slow to a vigorous march as my body betrays me, wheezing and aching and as ineffectual as a woman is so often assumed to be. The salacious trousers have come in handy once again. Who would have guessed.

Ben pulls up alongside me, reining in the mule to match my pace. “Hey! Get back in the cart!”

“I’ll walk the rest of the way to the railroad station.”

“It’s 200 more kilometers!”

“See you there.”

Now Ben jumps out of the cart. The mule, perplexed but not rattled, comes to a halt and waits in the middle of the road with her long ears angled in opposite directions. Ben rushes in front of me and leans down until we’re at eye-level, breathing heavily. I can smell smoke on him, and something else too: maybe cologne, maybe soap, maybe aftershave, maybe just the scent of a man in his prime. His lips are pink and full and soft-looking, I notice, as if for the first time. His cheeks are irritated and red from the wind; the ruthlessness of the climate here doesn’t agree with him. It is the only way in which I am stronger than he is. His green eyes are wide and blazing. “Get. In. The. Cart.”

“No,” I whisper, tears all over my face.

“You can’t just run off like that,” he pleads, less angry now. “Where are you going to go? There’s nothing out here except trees and…I don’t know…probably bears and wolves and maybe even Siberian tigers. You can’t get ripped apart by wild animals. Don’t you want to make it to London? To argue for your family’s liberation? They could find no fiercer advocate than you, of that I am convinced.”

“How would you possibly protect me from a bear?”

Ben unbuttons his coat and pulls up his white wool sweater to show me a pistol tucked into the holster clipped to his belt. “Just in case,” he says, smirking crookedly, lowering his sweater again. “Now I am keeping no secrets from you, and you are harboring none from me. We’re even.”

I nod, sniffling, thinking of my jewels and photograph hidden in the steamer trunk. My words are so strained I can barely hear them myself, my hands are trembling; hell, I’m trembling all over. The possibility is unimaginable. “Do you really think they’re going to kill Papa?”

Ben sighs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t,” he replies gently. “I think the Provisional Government will be able to keep the communists in check for now. I think they will leap at the opportunity to ship the former tsar off to Britain without the potential controversy of a trial and execution. And I also think we should get back in the cart and keep moving now.”

“I’m sorry your boss gave you this assignment and now you have to risk your life for a family that you evidently hate,” I lash out like a cornered animal, hissing and brandishing its glinting claws. “For a grand duchess that you hate. This must be an awful inconvenience for you.”

“It’s rather more complicated than that,” Ben says. “There’s some opportunity in it as well.”

Of course: his leather-bound notebook full of observations, his scrawled recollections to one day build into a famed article about our journey. An article full of what he truly thinks about me. I feel suddenly, violently nauseous. I feel horrified.

What happened to the grand adventure that I imagined? Where did it go?

And all at once, I can’t even remember how I pictured this journey unfolding; I can’t conjure up some rose-colored vision of me and Ben falling into an effortless friendship, flirting lightly and innocently, discovering new corners of the earth together, parting ways in London as lifelong confidants. Now I can only see Papa as he murmurs folktales older than Christianity with candlelight dancing on his smiling face, as he chases me and my sisters around the gardens with outstretched arms and sparkling eyes, as he carries Alexei from one room to the next when my brother’s joints are inflamed and excruciating and useless, as he never unburdens his mind to his wife or children but spends long afternoons chopping wood as the sun sinks into the west and the lines in his pale face grow deeper.

He couldn’t be responsible for bloodshed, for mercilessness. He’s not that kind of man. He’s never been that kind of man.

“We really should keep moving,” Ben prompts.

“Fine,” I fling back as I shove by him. I mop my tears away with the sleeve of my wool sweater, climb into the back of the wooden cart, and sit as far as I can from Ben with my bent knees hugged to my chest. I stare silently off into the forest as the mule drags us towards the Trans-Siberian Railroad, towards Moscow and Saint Petersburg and the Baltic Sea and London, towards the conclusion of this tenuous partnership and the redemption of my family. I am looking forward to soon never having to see Benjamin Hardy again, and yet I’m also not; and this is a difficult paradox to put into words of any language.

We don’t stop until it’s almost dusk. Ben hops down from the cart, leads the mule off the road by her bridle (and gives her an encouraging scratch on the forelock when she hesitates), and begins to set up camp in a small clearing encircled by heaps of frost grass. Dinner is loaves of bread again—even more tough and dry than yesterday—and metallic-tasting water from canteens. Dessert is a hand-rolled cigarette for Ben and a handful of honeyberries I found in the bushes for me. And when Ben grapples with the tent, I come over to help him with it just to prove I can.

Ben builds a fire, and we sit wordlessly on opposite sides of it with the reflections of flames in our eyes. Ben jots down today’s thoughts in his notebook, every so often glancing off into nowhere and tapping his chin thoughtfully with the end of his pen, biting his full lower lip absentmindedly as he sifts through the ocean of word in his head to fish out the right one. Meanwhile, I read my copy of Tarzan of the Apes. I stumble across a few English terms I don’t know—quixotic, cartography, constellations, ruminate—but I don’t ask Ben about them.

After a long time, when the moon and stars have emerged bright and ancient in the night sky, Ben closes his notebook and watches me. At first I ignore him. And then, eventually, I can’t anymore.

“What?” I ask irritably, keeping my place in Tarzan of the Apes with my pinky finger, which is nearly numb from the cold.

Ben’s words are calm, restrained, painstakingly chosen. Firelight is fierce and bloody on his face. “I had two infant brothers die of pneumonia, a perfectly preventable illness had they had access to good doctors and proper nutrition and a warm dry home, which they did not. I had a sister die in childbirth because there was no midwife available to attend to her. I have had friends come home from the war with limbs or half their faces missing, a fate which I myself am spared only because of my employment with Sir Buchanan. You have no idea what the world has been through while you were off playing board games and reading novels in greenhouses and lounging on lakeshores with your idyllic little family. You have no idea what life is like for the rest of us. And perhaps that’s not your fault, and it is unjust of me to resent you for it, and I must learn to temper this wrath I’ve been carrying around in my chest since childhood. But it’s still true.”

He stands, clutching his notebook with hands that are red from the savage Siberian wind, and vanishes into the tent.

[beskarberry]

Valkyrie

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 4

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“What... did you... do?”  You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote?There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!”

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.8k

Content warnings: Canon-typical violence, SEX POLLEN + rough sex, oral sex (m receiving) and kink talk (not gonna list all of them but they’re all very common.) There’s another filk song reference in this one that I’ll link in the replies.

A/N: VERY IMPORTANT TAG! The bounty uses she/her pronouns so if girl on girl violence makes you squeamish please read ahead with caution! Also know that I >>do not<< use any gender-specific slurs (b*tch, c*nt, etc.)

<-Previous Next->

Everything. Was. Purple.

Purple! The grass, the sky, the trees, if you could call them that. The pulsating, gelatinous towers that spiraled into the sky were definitely alive, but you weren’t sure if ‘tree’ was a fitting word for them. Their branches were long and hanging, weighed down by some kind of berry or fruit that glowed with teal streaks. Your next bounty was on a habitable moon orbiting an enormous gas giant that took up the entire skyline. It was lush with vegetation and sparsely populated, a perfect hideout for an Ardennian.

The Razor Crest was parked in a meadow of lavender grass, though once again you questioned your choice of words, watching the way the long wet leaves wiggled in the breeze. You breathed deep, letting the rich, humid air fill your lungs while your traveling companions followed behind you down the old ship’s ramp. Baby beans trotted right past you on stubby legs, picking things up off the ground that he probably shouldn’t be putting in his mouth, but was too sneaky for you to stop him from doing so. You heard the Crest’s access door shut, and turned to see Mando eagerly trotting along to join you.

No, not ‘Mando’... Din. Mr. Mystery finally had a name, though you were still conflicted about using it. The man had spilled so many secrets into you in such a short amount of time that the butterflies in your stomach were breeding many-legged worms. Squirming, creeping things that quickly metamorphosized back into their illustrious true selves, and you weren’t sure which part of their cycle was making you more nauseous. But they were your secrets to keep, your heart wearing his name like a locket; safely hidden where nobody but you could see.

You had slid the heavy beskar bucket back up the ladder to him while he stayed in the dark of the cockpit, the knowledge of his facial features still kept by your hands alone. The pair of you had then stood close together at the armory, him with his helmet back where it belonged and you with your bright eyed mask protecting your crown. At the equipment cache he couldn’t stop talking, pointing out and picking up a variety of weapons and traps that would work particularly well for this simian quarry. Everything had a story, and he told you all about the bounties he had pulled trophies off of, or things he had gotten as rewards for helping someone else. He’s giddy. You could only listen along as he prattled away, handing you grapple after snare until you had to start putting things back in the armory, just so you could have your hands free again.

Hands. Every time he gave you another tool of the trade to add to your ever-growing inventory his hands brushed somewhere on you. Leather tipped fingers glancing quickly on your wrist, a lingering palm on your shoulder; each fleeting touch lasting just slightly longer than the last. He was struggling to keep his hands off of you, reluctant to give up the intimacy you had both been working at in the void-black darkness of the flight deck before atmospheric reentry tore you both apart. What other prayers of devotion could he pour into you, if you’d just had a little more time? ‘You belong to them, that is The Way’. The oath he had made to you was followed coldly in your mind by another string of words, ‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’.

You couldn’t think about all the words that you still needed to unpack, it was hunting time. The six-limbed simian was wanted for, checks puck notes, chemical warfare. She had blasted her way to the Guild’s Most Wanted list by lobbing incendiary bombs and poison gas grenades through a meeting of outer rim parliament, and the price on her head might have been higher than yours. The bounty puck specifically stated she was to be taken alive. Super. The droid-face mask wasn’t going to be much protection for your lungs, but it might at least keep your eyes safe. You took time to pack extra bacta and some quality rations, plus one of your new bantha-wool blankets. You woke up that morning on Tatooine, and the voice of your tortured circadian rhythm wondered if you would be sleeping rugged tonight somewhere on this heliotropic hellscape.

A bounty fob blinked lazily from the larger hunter’s belt, indicating that the quarry was on-world, but not close enough to catch. The three of you would have some walking to do. The child tried to make friends with every wiggly thing, running on his short little legs from fern to fern, hunting for treats. The little beastie’s adopted father chased him through the grass, trying, and failing, to keep him from getting into trouble. The sight of the mighty metal man being defeated so easily by a baby made you laugh, and the sound of your melodic giggles drew his attention.

“What are you laughing at?”

Oh no, I’ve been caught!  “I’m laughing at you, rust bucket! The scariest person here isn’t either of us, it’s him!” You pointed to where the child was tearing through the reeds after some kind of amphibian, and started laughing harder when Mando cursed and flew after his impish son. The rowdy child had a frog-like creature hanging from his mouth that vanished the second his dad tried to pull it away.

“Stop eating things you find on the ground!” The baby only squealed at the scolding, earning himself a grumpy, papa-patented sigh. Mando picked up the potato-sack of a child and dumped him unceremoniously into the hover-crib that floated along behind. “You can get back out when you learn your lesson! I don’t want you to get sick.” The baby made huge, sad eyes up at his dad, but Mando turned away quickly to avoid their hypnotic powers. You were doing your best to hide your giggles, covering the part of your mask where your mouth was, as if that would help. The Mandalorian strode up to you with a swagger. “Oh, you think that’s funny, cyar’ika?”

“You don’t?” You caught your reflection in the black gloss of his visor as he sauntered up to you, and your bug-eyed doppelganger only made you laugh more. A wall of beskar stood in front of you, eyeing you with slow tilts of his helmet while you got it all out of your system. When your breaths returned to normal you looked down at your hands and found that they had made friends. You had reached out for him without even thinking, and you were a little embarrassed that they had gravitated to him so naturally. He squeezed your hands gently before letting them return to you, and you heard the songs of star-lost sailors whispering in the back of your mind. The nights are long between the stars, and lonely, too, for me. I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

“Night’s coming fast, we should keep moving.” Hunting mode reactivated, your companion started towards the undulating wilderness. He wasn’t wrong, within a few hours the massive planet that hung above you drifted out of view, replaced with a sea of glittering stars. The foliage around you glowed with otherworldly colors, teals and violets splattering their dense leaves and curling down their jelly trunks. Their loveliness made it easy to distract yourself from the task at hand, your eyes chasing the occasional yellow and red flashes that blinked from insects high in the branches. Ahead of you a large old tree had fallen over, and between its trunk and its upturned roots the spot was easily defensible.

Mando busied himself with clearing squishy sticks and leaves from the area to make a campsite while you looked for something to start a fire with. Nothing looked burnable, everything had a gooey, wet consistency, but some dead leaves under the log were dried out. They would have to do. You made them into a neat pile and pushed some rocks in a circle around them for safety, now you would just need a light.

“Hey, tinman, I need some heat!” He followed your pointing finger with his helmet and waltzed over to you, happy to be of assistance. He started up his wrist mounted flamethrower and used the pilot light to set the tinder ablaze. Not even fire could escape the overwhelming purpleness of the estranged moon as the blaze kicked up a bright indigo with a low heat. You got to work getting dinner around, pulling savory Tatooine treats out of your pack, pushing some of them towards the heat source so they would be warm. At the bottom of your bag you found some soft, squashed thing, and pulled the remains of breakfast out into the light. It was mashed, but it was still probably edible. “Mando, you never ate your breakfast.”

“What?” He looked at the sad excuse for a meal that you were offering him, eyeing it with curiosity. “You got me breakfast?”

“Yes? I told you that I would, though I guess it’s dinner now. Here.” You waved it at him so he would get the hint, and he took it carefully from you with timid hands.

“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”

“And don’t you forget it!” You whooped with overwhelming confidence, but the sweet words made you blush under your mask. Before he could turn and leave the safety of the fire to find a private eating area you reached for his hand again, pulling the armored paw to your forehead and knocking it softly against your mask. Kov'nynir. A wistful sigh escaped his modulator, and you knew the act of affection was well received. He bent himself down to where you sat at the fire and pressed his own forehead against yours, rumbling with contentment. The gentle sound made your heart swell, such a simple gesture that carried so much meaning. A bounty hunter’s life was fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?

You pushed your heads together just a little harder before he pulled himself away from you to go eat. You lifted your own dinner and the baby’s from the hearth, poking at it with your fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Mr. Green Beans to eat. The child took it from you eagerly, content in his protective pram and making gross little noises while he ate. The food tin you had was much better than day one’s menu: bantha meat and Tusken hardtack with a side of more mystery mush. Your partner chose to take his meal elsewhere, fading into the darkness behind the fallen log where he could remove his helmet and eat in peace. Someday he might make more sense to you. The clank! of an empty food tin hitting the ground brought your attention back to your campsite buddy, the baby having thrown his clean plate at you.

“What’s wrong, booger? You bored? Alright.” There was a tiny bit of energy still left in your bones, and what better way to spend it than entertaining your precious audience. You pulled yourself to your feet, taking a moment to dust the spores from your pants and pull your backpack on before launching into song.

“When we pulled into Naboo’s Port in need of R&R,

The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.

We had high expectations of their hospitality,

But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we!”

“And we're banned from Naboo, everyone!

Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!

We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,

But Naboo doesn't want us anymore!”

Green baby hands tried their best to clap in time with your sailor song, accompanied by adorable cooing noises while he tried to sing along. Your rambunctiousness summoned Mando back over to the fire, and he sat down on a large rock next to his foundling, watching you through his visor as you danced around the fire with flailing limbs.

“Our Engineer would yield to none at putting down the brew;

She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!

The Navigator didn't win, but he out-drank almost all,

And now they've got a shuttlecraft on the roof of City Hall!”

You ran through the chorus again, taking a second to notice that tinman was tapping his foot to the beat along with you. You wondered briefly if they ever sang on Mandalore. You took a deep breath to continue-

“-KABOOM-!”

The fireside exploded just meters from your spinning dance, and you were hauled backwards to safety by your oathsworn protector,along with his foundling, and ushered towards the safety of the trees.

“-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”

Trees and plants exploded on either side of you as you ran through the luminous dark. The Ardennian! Neither of you had been paying attention to the bounty fob, blinking fast and red under his cloak. Above you the sound of something swinging through the branches caught your ear, and you pulled your blaster and fired behind you.

“Bwahaha! Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me, two-arms!” You couldn’t see her, but her taunts gave you a better idea of her position, firing several more shots towards their source. You knew you had to take her alive, but that didn’t mean intact.

“Go go go!” Mando was at your back, doing his best human shield impression while he hurried you away from the bombardment, the child’s bulky pram tucked uncomfortably under one arm. Your flight through the forest was haunted with vicious cackling and the sound of serene foliage being obliterated by the explosives that rained down around you, choking you with incendiary fumes.

A clearing materialized ahead, and the three of you rushed out from under the unmerciful trees. When you had gotten far enough from the tree line you both turned your eyes to the canopy.

“There!” Picking up her heat signature on his visor’s infrared sensors, he pointed to your target, his other arm still occupied with protecting the foundling. You grabbed the barrel of the pulse rife that was still slung over his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The ball of electricity arced from your little trio and collided with the trees, the sound of pained screams and crashes followed the wounded pyromaniac as she fell hard to the ground. Bullseye.

”Stay here, Mando, I got this! Keep him safe!” You stormed into the woods after the sounds of distress, snare at the ready to take the bounty alive. You were angry, rage powering your stride as you chased after her like a Corellian tracking hound. Angry that your sweet moment had been ruined, angry that she’d put the foundling in danger, angry that your partner had been pulled from the comfort of the fire to fulfill his duties as guardian. You sprang over roots and fallen branches, catching the sight of movement where the Ardennian was making a run for it. 

“Oh no you don’t! Get back here!”  Your words boiled with so much fury that they almost weren’t your own. Balls of fire exploded around you in a last ditch effort by the primate to kill you first. You dropped a knee into the loamy soil to steady your shot.

Woosh! The net sailed past her by mere inches, and you flew to your feet to begin the chase again.

“Ha! Grow some more arms and maybe you’ll have better aim!”  Fire erupted around you again, but the flames that seared at your eyes came from inside, burning with fuel siphoned from your heart. You took another shot.

Woosh! Miss! FUCK. You had one shot left on the snare-slinger, and you had to make it count. The trees were thinner here, how long had you been running? The simian was struggling to get away now, the long slimy branches too far apart to swing through. Behind you the sound of thunderous armored boots told you that Mando was hot on your trail, and you were glad to have the back up even though you had specifically told him to stay put. Nobody listens in this crew. Something green and gaseous poofed next to you, and the terms of the bounty puck came back to you clear as day: chemical warfare. The Ardennian was out of bombs and had switched to gas canisters, hurling a variety of brightly colored poisons at your face. Third time’s the charm.

Woosh! The net flew true, tangling in the many limbs of the fleeing quarry and throwing her to the ground. Gotcha! You bore down on her as brightly glowing vials sailed over your head, landing on something behind you with a crash! You were on her in an instant, shoving a blaster in her face.

“You’re done, chuckles! It’s over!” The fear in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she glanced back behind you.

“Ha! I don’t think so, stinky. You’re gonna have yer hands too full with that to deal with little old me.” You followed her gaze, and froze from the ice crystalizing in your veins. Mando stood a ways back, still as a statue. Bright neon pink goo slimed its way down his helmet and dripped onto his chest plate. You turned on the Ardennian again.

“What... did you... do?”  You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote? There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!” She was howling with laughter in your grasp, and the sound of her mirth was like nails on chalkboard to your ears. You practically threw her to the ground, running back to your incapacitated partner. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Mando! Hey hey can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong!” The glowing pink slime was still on his helmet, and you hunted for something to wipe it off with. The closest thing was his cloak, so you reached for it and went to clean the pretty pink sludge from his helmet when an armored claw shot up and caught your wrist. The action startled you, but you were happy to see him still able to move. “Mando? You ok?” Slowly, with almost robotic precision, he turned his gaze to you.

“Cyar...’ika....?” His words were long and labored, the strain of them sending a chill through your bones.

“Yes! It’s me, Mando. I’m right here, I’m gonna get you taken care of. I- I’ll find some bacta or-” Your words were cut off by another wicked claw on your shoulder.

“So... Beautiful...”  The lustful words made the gears in your head grind to a halt. Really? Right now?

“Ok great, glad to see you’re fine, now can we get back to hunt-” He cut you off with a hand at your throat.

“Beautiful.. and mouthy. So... fucking... mouthy.” A leather tipped hand snaked up your neck to your lips, grabbing at your jaw and pushing a thumb in past your teeth. You tried to spit him out but his other hand latched on to the back of your skull. “I’m going to put that mouth to good use, mesh’la.”  Your mask was tossed to the ground, and the ‘good luck’ the Ardennian had wished you now made sense. Whatever was oozing down the front of his helmet was driving him into an uncontrolled sexual frenzy, and you were the sole outlet for all his desires.

“Mando! -Blech-! Man- Din!” He stopped trying to get down your throat at the sound of his own name, hearing it for the first time from your lips. “Din! We don’t have time for this right now! Get a grip!” Oh, but he already had a grip, and it was tightening on your scalp.

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name.”  The command dripped from his modulator the same way the poison dripped down his face, and he started walking you backwards by the hair until you bumped against a squishy tree. The change of emotion from rage to fear to confusion made your head spin, and the new contending feeling of heat building in your guts was making itself known.

“Knock it off! Fucking hell, she’s going to get away if we don’t do something right now! ”

“Let her. You’re the only one I want.” The weight of his arms on your neck and shoulders became too much, and the man who you had shared a such a sweet moment with not too long ago was now forcing you to your knees. You dropped to a kneel, and your face was hard pressed up against the solid bulge that was trying to rip its way out of his pants. He took only a second to free himself, pushing his throbbing cock against your teeth. “Open wide.”

You wished you were meeting with mini-mando under better circumstances, but if getting him off would get you back to the hunt, you were happy to help. The taste of him on your tongue sent electricity through your body, spooling up fresh heat between your own legs. Above you Mando was making deep, guttural groans as you took his cock all the way to the back of your throat, wrapping a fist around where you couldn’t reach without gagging. You glanced around his leg to where you could see the hover-crib, floating a good distance away with the shield closed tight. Good, he doesn’t need to see this. A swift thrust brought your attention back to where it was demanded.

“That’s a good girl, take it all in. Let me make a mess of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He had a death grip on the back of your hair and the side of your jaw, pushing up to keep you open enough to take his length. Inside you were swirling your tongue around the tip every time it slid past, making sultry praises flood from his modulator. Most of the words were garbled, raunchy and alien, probably Mando’a. Spit leaked from the sides of your mouth, making good on his word to make a mess of you. The claws in your hair pulled tight, forcing your nose into the tuft of soft hair at his base so he could pump your throat full of cum without you escaping. “Ahh~! That’s it, mesh’la, drink it all down.”

The hot spunk made you choke and gag, tears rushing to your eyes, but you still swallowed as best you could. When he finally let you pull away you gasped for air, coughing on the ground at his feet.

“There! *cough!* is that... -blech-, better? Can you hunt now? Are you done?” The potionmaster was probably long gone, you couldn’t hear her fucking cackling anymore.

“Cyar’ika, we’re not done until I say we’re done.” The spear at your cheek was still hard as beskar, ready for round two. The armored man yanked you to your feet, shoving you face first towards the nearest tree. The tree’s flesh was soft and squishy, a fact you would be grateful for soon enough. Your hips were pulled backwards, and a buzzing sound told you he had pulled a vibroblade from his belt, stabbing under your pants’ edge and pulling down the crack of your ass until your clothes were cut away; leaving just the legs and your boots to protect you. The cold air hitting your cunt gave away your arousal, and he zoned in on it like a falcon, pressing still-gloved fingers to your wet slit. The roughness of the leather invading you made you cry out and your knees buckle, squirming under the intrusion of one finger, then two; pumping in and out of you to stoke your flame.

“You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty, and strong. I’m gonna lose myself in you, fierce little thing, and I never want to be found.” His hands ripped away from your swollen cunt, and the head of his cock was pressed to its lips. Both of you made delicious, filthy noises as he buried himself to the hilt, the slick of his own cum making a wonderful lube. “Fuuuuuck, you’re hot inside, lovely girl. My cock was made just for you.” He barely made it a few inches out of you before he was slamming back into you again. The force of him behind you smashed you face into the soft, forgiving tree, though you wished you could find somewhere for your hands to grab hold. He fucked you like a man possessed, and you were sure there would be bruises on your hips and thighs when he was finished.

His mouth ran like surging lava. “Fucking.. Maker... beautiful girl, beautiful hunter! Hunter-killer! I knew you would be a challenge to hunt, but I never thought you would be the one to capture me! You’re a work of art on the killing field! Mmph! You are mine and I’m going to fill your belly with my warriors ‘til you’re fit to burst. They’ll be so ferocious! Born with daggers in their teeth.” Vulgar words between thrusts made your entire body hot with a mix of embarrassment and lust. You might never know if the neon goo had given him the desire to breed you, or if he adored you so much that he wanted more of you to care for, but you did know your contraceptive implant would be having none of it either way. Still, his damning words flowed. “Nobody will ever put their hands on you again but me. I’ll give you everything you desire, cyar’ika, anything you ask for will be yours. I’ll bring the stars down from the sky if you ask me to! I- I’ll- I’m gonna...”

The Mandalorian stilled behind you, twitching as his cock spilled into you and ran hot down your thighs. His breaths were gasping, broken and desperate for air. His fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips would leave their mark for sure, and though he’d done a fantastic job of scrambling your insides you still felt warmth in your chest. Even in his poisoned, delirious state of mind, all of his thoughts were of you alone. The grip on your ass loosened, and the sound of a heavy thud hitting the ground told you he had fallen down into the soft purple grass. You struggled to peel your face from the jelly tree, standing like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. The bright pink streak on his helmet had lost all its glow, and your human rust-bucket was slumped over on his side, still as the grave. Not again, fucksake. You clambered over to him, digging under his cloak with your hands until you found his pulse. Still alive.

“Alright Mando, fucking stay here this time like I told you to.” You glanced around the meadow, but the Ardennian was nowhere to be found. Fuck! All that work for nothing. You groaned, looking down at what was left of your pants. You checked all the pockets, finding your lucky krayt teeth and a bacta patch before kicking the ruined fabric off over your boots. You dropped down to the spent form of your comrade, tilting his helmet up and slapping the bacta patch on one of the hickies you had left there a few days ago. You took a moment to stuff the teeth into one of his many pouches since you no longer had pockets of your own. With your ass in the wind you made your way over to the floating pram to check on your tiny pal. “Hey beans, you doing ok? Your dad and I were just having a little-” you spun the cradle around. Empty.

“No! Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK!” The bounty had made off with Din’s infant son, your little buddy! You couldn’t stop the fear that dried your throat and brought tears to your eyes. Get a hold of yourself! Find him! NOW! Familiar rage welled up behind your eyes, and you raced back over to your unconscious guardian, still laying in the dirt and making it extra difficult to untangle the pulse rifle still slung over his back. Your hunting instincts were on high alert, and the sound of shouting caught your ears. “I’m gonna get him back, Din! Just... just fucking stay here!”

You tore off after the noise, every horrible scenario running through your head at once. Would she steal him? Would she hurt him? Would she kill him? Rage flared hot in your chest and threatened to burn you alive, your feverish skin icy with sweat. Wet leaves slapped past your bare knees so fast that their thin edges left vicious paper cuts. You didn’t care, nothing else mattered but the foundling. The sound of shouting grew louder, and you thundered though the trees to another clearing by a narrow wine-dark stream. 

“Help! This thing’s got me! Get me down, please! Get it away from me!” The simian terror was hanging in the air ahead of you. No, not hanging, floating. She was thrashing her arms, but all that did was slowly spin her in place. The sight was magical, but more important was the safety of child. On the ground near her, he stood with one fat little paw in the air, pointing at his abductor and concentrating with all his might. You didn’t know how he had escaped, or what the actual fuck he was doing, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled the pulse rifle from your back and fired, once, twice, three times until her limp body was hanging in the air, knocked out cold. Or dead.

Baby beans crumpled to the ground, and the Ardennian followed suit, the ugly noise she made when she hit the ground brought a wicked smile to your cheeks. The baby’s little eyes were bleary and tired under his big droopy ears, and you scooped him carefully up off the ground to pull him in for a good, strong hug.

“Did you get the mean lady, sweetie? Good job! I don’t know what the fuck you did but hey, no questions asked, alright? I’m just glad you’re ok.” He smiled up at you with his tiny toothy grin before conking out in your arms, leaning heavily against your chest. You set him back down on the ground, just long enough to tie that six limbed asshole up tight, using everything you still had above the waist to keep her captured. You tied her arms to her feet and slung her limp body over you like a rucksack, then picked the foundling back up. With your bounty, baby, and bare ass you started the hike back to your fallen man.

Mando still laid where you had left him on his side, and you were annoyed to realize that, out of everybody involved, you were the only one left awake. Fantastic. You returned the baby to his floating bucket, pulling it closer to the pair of you this time, and dumped the Ardennian in the dirt. There was no way you could maneuver three bodies at once, somebody was going to have to get up and walk.

“Mando! Mando get up, we gotta go.” The man in question didn’t budge, soft, muffled snores your only response. You tried everything you could think of, pulling on his hands and legs and shouting, anything to wake his ass up. You knocked on his helmet, “Ground control to Major Mando, time to get up! Rise and shine, bucket boy!” Nothing, he was going to have to sleep the after-effects of the potion off, so he was staying right where he was.

You had no idea how far you had gotten from the campsite, and the cold night air on your bare booty made you remember your half-nakedness. On the ground scattered around the pile of living beskar was your backpack and the remains of your pants, along with the rest of your trap gear. Start packing more clothes. You went for the gear first, pulling another set of cuffs and a good strong rope out, and added a few more knots to the half-dead quarry so she wouldn’t be pulling any bullshit in the night. The backpack still had the bantha-wool blanket wrapped up tight, and you tied it around yourself like a skirt. Better than nothing.

Kneeling on the ground next to your Mandalorian, you cleared yourself a space to sit down, taking an extra second to make sure all his bits were tucked back out of view. You leaned back against the crook of his hips, feeling the slow rise and fall of his belly at your back. You were so tired, how many times had you been on the run in the last cycle alone? Your body desperately craved sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bounty. Anger crept its way back into your eyes again, and you wanted to take it out on her, channel your inner rancor. No, she’s already lost. Go to sleep.

But the merciful tug of sleep didn’t come, and when you realized why you felt foolish. The child’s pram was on the ground where you had pushed it next to his fathers’ armored head. He was sleeping like a little prince, and didn’t move at all when you pulled him out of the crib. When he was situated in your arms you pulled Mando’s cloak around the three of you for extra warmth. Sitting upright was a horrible way to sleep, but with the baby safely in your arms and a blaster at your side, you were able to catch a handful of winks.

You woke up many times that night, worried that something might happen to your baby or your partner, and each time your eyes shot open you glared at the dark form in the grass; though not once did it move. Still, you didn’t trust that you were safe, and only when the rim of the planet that dominated the sky drifted over the horizon could you actually keep your eyes closed. But the blissful comfort of real sleep was torn from you by your lounge chair trying to get up on its own. The rush from trying to sit up too fast knocked Mando right back down on his back, and his hands went to his armored temples to try to stop the world from spinning.

“What...where am... where’s....” He shot up like a bolt of lightning “WHERE’S MY SON?!”

“Right here!” You turned yourself to show the bug-eyed bundle to his father, letting him see that the child was safe. Mando wrapped his arms around you and the child, and you could hear his quick, shuddering breaths coming out from under the helmet. The hug was tight, a comforting fortress around your shoulders.

“Are you ok? What happened? Why are we in the grass? Where’s the bounty? Did she get away?” His questions gushed like a river, urgent and frightened. You pointed at where the Ardennian was still on the ground, far enough away that she was out of earshot. She was awake now, but still immobilized. Her eyes were fixed on you, and you could see the edges of her mouth turning upwards into a snarl to bare her teeth. Din’s hands were all over you, inspecting you for damage, and his breath caught in his throat when he reached your waist. Big, ugly red and purple fingerprints were swelling up between the scrapes on your skin, and he pushed the edge of your makeshift skirt down to follow their horrifying trail; they were everywhere.

“Who did this to you?”  The volcano behind the beskar threatened to erupt with molten malevolence, “Did she do this to you?”

“No Mando,” you sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t remember. “You did.” The wall of metal armor went stiff as a rail, his visor locked on your eyes, looking for the truth. But the truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t accept it.

“What? N-no.. I would never... I could never hurt you, cyar’ika! Please... please tell me that I didn’t do this.” His fingers ghosted over your marks, but never touched them, his hands afraid of dealing more damage to your lovely skin. “I-I couldn’t have... I’m... I’m so sorr-” You cut him off with a hand on his helmet where his mouth might be.

“It’s not your fault, you were poisoned. I’m just glad you’re alive, Din.” The sound of his own name made his shoulders droop and his hands come up cradle your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his visor, the closeness of the distraught hunter making you flustered, so you tried to crack a joke. “I’m just glad you wanted to fuck me instead of the Ardennian.” The way his helmet snapped backwards made you realize he didn’t remember that part either. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I took it like a champ! You’re gonna have to do better than bruises to hurt this mighty hunter!” Your attempted words of comfort didn’t seem to work, and he pulled you and the wiggly child back to his chest in a world-erasing hug.

“Please just tell me you know I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose, I never want to hurt you again. Please.”

“Mando! I’m fine, really.” He held your head firmly, the blackness of the visor trying to bore though your very soul. You nodded in his grasp, “I know you didn’t, it’s alright, Din. I forgive you.” The force of his helmet knocking against your forehead almost made you see stars. His hands were wrapped around your head, holding you as close as he could in the intimate gesture of his people. You didn’t blame him at all for what happened, but it would be a while, if ever, before he could forgive himself.

“Oh isn’t that puke. Spare me the lovey-dovey crap and take me back to the Guild already! Buncha bucketheads.” You didn’t want to address the Ardennian that hollered at you from from the grass, but the beskar bucket turned on her in a heartbeat. He sprang to his feet in a flash, pulling the pulse rife from the ground and firing, stunning the target for the fourth time, fifth time, sixth, seventh.

He’s gonna kill her. You grabbed at his arm, demanding his attention “Mando, you got her, it’s over! It’s done.” Stance wide and chest heaving, the barrel of the long rifle stayed trained on the bounty for what seemed like an eternity before being lowered back to the ground. “Good, good, see, everyone’s ok. Let’s get back to the Crest and get out of here, sound like a plan?” He nodded, still watching the limp-again simian for signs of movement. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more argument he stalked over to the quarry and slung her over his shoulder, ready to make the long march back to the ship. You set the baby back in his pram so you could take a second to grab everything off the ground, making sure you had your pack and your mask, and followed Mando back through the woods.

After hours of silent hiking, the Razor Crest came into view, and you had never been so happy to see the old girl, pretty as a plum in the violet haze. Once everyone was aboard, the fog of the carbonite chamber filled the tiny cabin to the brim, and left a new dark block in its wake. The Ardennian’s body was limp, though thankfully still alive; but the mischievous sneer couldn’t be erased so easily. You took a deep breath, sighing with relief that this hunt was over. Two down, one to go. Then Nevarro.

Your Mandalorian hadn’t spoken to you the entire trek back to the ship, and he was distracting himself by placing all the weaponry back in their spots in the cabinet. He’s still upset with himself. You still wore the bantha-blanket skirt, and its soft edges swished around your ankles. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, and he jumped violently under your touch as he was brought back to the present.

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” He didn’t meet your eyes, but his hands stopped fussing with the armory. “Really, Din, I don’t blame you at all. I’m ok.” You tugged on his waist, bidding him to turn and face you, but still he couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. You ran your hands from his shoulders down his chest, trying to bring him comfort with your touch, but when you saw his utility belt you remembered what was in his pockets. A flashbulb of an idea lit up in your skull, and clear as day the reason for your frivolous purchase on Tatooine made itself known. “You know what, I’m so not-mad at you that I have a present for you.” You grabbed his belt to dig through the pouches, but strong hands shot up to carefully take your wrists.

“Mesh’la no! Not after.. not after I- I can’t. I don’t deserve your affections.” Your eyes met his visor, its gaze no longer staring down at the floor and instead watching you with intensity. A smile broke it’s way out past your teeth, followed by a knowing laugh.

“No, that’s not what I meant, good thought though. No, Mand-...Din. Din, I have a gift for you.”  He hesitated to release your arms, but when you were free of his delicate hold you went back to the pockets on his belt and pulled the opalized krayt teeth from one of the pouches. Your companion’s visor followed the glittering treasures as they were brought into the light, and you wished you could see his bewildered face under the beskar. You handed them to him, and he carefully turned them over in his palm, letting the fossils catch the light and revealing their intricate patterns. His helmet tilted slowly, baffled that such beautiful things could be pulled from anywhere on his body, but the way his beskar sent streaks of light over his armor gave you a fantastic new idea.

Taking the treasures back from him you unscrewed the button fasteners that protruded from their backs, revealing the small, strong magnets hidden underneath; and pressed them up to his helmet. The teeth fit perfectly in the recesses of his cheeks, like they had been made just for him; and though you knew hunters didn’t wear adornments, they still looked lovely. “I know you can’t keep them on, especially when we go hunt, but they still look nice on you. Now you get to be my lucky charm.” His soft leather fingertips rubbed gently at his cheeks, feeling the way the indents had been filled with the precious jewels. The ship didn’t have any mirrors, and he would have to see how the swirling pools of crystalized moonlight looked the next time he took his helmet off. 

Wordlessly he reached out for you, taking your face in his hands and pulling your head to his so he could press your foreheads together. You were becoming fond of the mysterious gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach stretch their iridescent wings and fan contentment into your heart. You pushed back against him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders, locking his helmet to you. The whole galaxy could fly apart at the seams and you knew you would be alright, as long as you were right where you were, shielded in your Mandalorian’s embrace. I wonder if he feels the same. Tiny claws on your leg pulled your attention to the floor, and you were overjoyed to see big black orbs staring up at you.

“Little Beans! C’mere you, get in on this.” You hauled the foundling up between your bodies, letting him get a good look at you and his father. He chirped away, happily patting his papa’s fancy new trinkets, mesmerized by their shine. The little creature was full of energy, but you had been on your last leg for hours and you couldn’t stifle your yawns any longer. “Boys, I can’t keep this up anymore, you’re both awful cute, but I need sleep.”

“Of course, cyare, you’ve earned it.” Mando reluctantly stepped away from you and rolled out the Tusken sleeping mat that you had purchased. It was much thicker than the sheet originally on the little cot, and a hundred times more forgiving. You were comfy in seconds, and the warm embrace of sleep started pulling on your limbs and shutting your eyes. A different touch was on your arm, and you lazily opened one eye to see an armored hand pulling the bantha blankie up snug around you. Sweet, thoughtful murder-machine is what you had thought of him that first day, and the stupid pet name made you chuckle.

“What does that mean? That word, sire-eeka or sigh-air, they’re Mando’a, right?” You wouldn’t let sleep win you over without a fight, even if it was a fight you wanted to lose.

“Cyar’ika. The closest translation in Basic would be sweetheart, or darling.” Here we go again with Mando’a 101.

“Sweetheart, huh? Pfft... sounds like you like me or something. What’s the other word mean? You’ve never used it before now.” He sighed, long and tired, and you could see the foundling on his lap, still enthralled with the glittering opal on his fathers' metal face.

“I...I don’t know how to translate that one, but it’s more than cyar’ika, stronger, with more depth.” Something about his posture told you he might be lying, he knew exactly how to translate that word, but he wasn’t ready to tell it to you. He might, though, when he was ready.

“Alright, tin man, if you say so.” Your eyes finally let themselves close all the way, but even in the darkness behind your lids your devious hands still found their way to him, giving his hand a good squeeze. “Teach me more someday?”

“For you, ner cyare’se,” Your hand was pulled up from the blankets until the backs of your knuckles rested on the cool beskar of his brow, “I’d bring you the stars down from the sky, if you asked me to.”

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[ktenvs3000f21]

Music in Nature & Nature in Music

In this week’s Ares reading, Gray et al. (2001) define song as “any rhythmic repeated utterance, whether by a bird, a frog, an insect, a whale or a human being.” This means that music can be found all around us in nature, from the simplest cricket chirps to the complex songs of birds. Many animal species are known to participate in song as a form of language and expression. One of my favourite natural-born singers is the Humpback Whale.

Humpback Whales are extremely intelligent marine mammals that use rhythms similar to those in human songs. Often these marine mammals use phrases in their songs that are a few seconds long (Gray et al., 2001). They often repeat these phrases as human composers do. These songs are so complex that they are structured similarly to human songs (Gray et al., 2001). Additionally, Whales have a similar tone and timbre as many human sounds (Gray et al., 2001). If you’re interested, I will attach a YouTube link so you can hear some of their hit songs for yourself, definitely worth a listen!

https://youtu.be/UOkcvGPHsgk

Not only is there music in nature, but there is also nature in music. A great example is the traditional folk music in Finland which is used to express the significance of nature. Modern-day folk singers in Finland continue to use singing to communicate both the tangible and intangible meanings of nature. Their music helps the community understand nature and how it has and continues to shape human culture (Mallarach,2012). The songs Finnish folk singers perform usually describe myths about the natural world (Mallarach, 2012). Their songs also often describe traditional ways of living that are mutually beneficial for both humans and nature (Mallarach, 2012). As well, their songs often provide an extensive vocabulary for all different features of the natural world (Mallarach, 2012). The melody of these folk songs are often very unique and enchanting; I would encourage you to have a listen! Here’s one on YouTube that I found. If you’re interested, let me know what you think! Do you know of any other cultures with a similar musical practice?

https://youtu.be/vvxun84kTLI

Just as photos are good at capturing a moment in time visually, music is excellent in emotionally capturing a moment in time. When we listen back to songs, we often feel the same feelings as we previously did in a memory. In grade eleven, I took a course called Outdoor Education. Our exam was a four-day and three-night trip to Algonquin Provincial Park. In theory, this trip sounded fun, but boy, was it strenuous. Each day we would wake up at 5 am and leave the campsite by 5:30 am to start our eight-hour hike for the day, and most of the time, we didn’t sleep at night. Each day, we hiked for eight hours straight with one forty-five-minute break in-between to eat. Keep in mind we were backpacking with packs that weighed around 40lbs (which is quite challenging for a girl that is 5’4, 100 lb and EXTREMELY accident-prone). At one point, we approached the base of this massive hill with literally NO end in sight. We were already 7 hours in at this point, and we were all feeling physically and mentally exhausted. So doing what any sane person would, me and my two friends started singing The Climb by Miley Cyrus. Eventually, everyone started singing, and we slowly propelled ourselves to the top of that hill together. It sounds crazy now that I think about it, but that song really did allow everyone as a group to come together and make it to the top of the hill. That is one hill that I will never forget!

Until next time,

Karissa :)

References

Gray, P. M., Krause, B., Atema, J., Payne, R., Krumhansl, C., & Baptista, L. (2001). The music of nature and the nature of music. Science, 291(5501), 52-54.

Mallarach, J. M. (2012). Spiritual values of protected areas of Europe.

[laddieseddiemunster]

Could you by any chance do Frog Bros (+Sam) headcanons for a reader who is also a vampire hunter? Like they’ve been a hunter all their life and their family moves to Santa Carla and they end up befriending the group after nearly getting killed by a vampire? 👉👈

Sam and the frog brothers are pretty underrated. I had to make up some backstory for the reader on how they became a vampire hunter, so hope you don’t mind. Awesome Monster Bashers Unite! Hope you enjoy :)

Frog Brothers + Sam w/ Vampire Hunter Reader (Platonic)

being a vampire hunter isn’t something people hear every day, but that’s exactly what you were. you had been hunting vampires almost your whole life.

it all started when you went camping for a school field trip. you were around 7 or 8 years old, and there was a lot of older teens there too. the older kids decided to scare the younger ones by telling them all a scary story about a vampire. unfortunately for you, you were one of the younger ones that was told the story.

they basically said that the campsite and cabins were all “haunted” by vampires that only come out at night. they also explained that every night one kid goes missing because that’s the child that they decided to hunt and kill. you were young and believed this story, and you went to sleep thinking that a vampire was going to come and kill you. none did. but, a kid that slept in your cabin was gone when you woke up. so you immediately thought that they were hunted and killed. (no one told you that the child who was “killed by vampires” was actually just picked up early in the morning by their parents). ever since then, you have been hunting vampires. you hadn’t killed any yet, but you kept some holy water and a stake with you at all times.

being a vampire hunter didn’t sit well with the people you went to school with. people thought you were a “freak” and often made fun of you. luckily, the bullying came to an end when your family announced that they were moving to a place called “Santa Carla”. you knew that you wouldn’t miss your old school and neighborhood at all. it had been a while since you had someone you could call a friend.

when you moved to Santa Carla you noticed that it had the label of “The Murder Capital of the World”. not the greatest first impression. all the missing posters just made you more unsettled. you obviously didn’t want your face to be on a missing poster, so you kept your stake, garlic, holy water, and the rest of your vampire hunting equipment near you at all times.

you had no evidence that there were actually vampires in santa carla, but you weren’t going to take any chances. that all changed one night when you were walking around the boardwalk by yourself. it was pretty late so there wasn’t a lot of people around. as you were walking past the shops you heard screaming coming from one of the alleyways. you walked towards the screaming holding onto the stake that was in the pocket of your jacket. when you found the alleyway where the screaming was coming from you noticed that the yelling was coming from kids that looked around your age. two of them were being held back by two guys that didn’t look like they were human. their faces looked evil.

the one that had been screaming was now pinned on the floor by another tall guy that didn’t have a human like face. the two that were being held back looked pretty petrified. one had a red bandana around his head, and the other had a camo jacket on. “get off of him you bloodsucker!” the one with the bandana said. you couldn’t make out what the “bloodsucker” had said. all you could tell was it was a mixture of growls and demonic laughter. you were somewhat relieved that you had some proof that vampires did exist, but now wasn’t the time to prove your enemies wrong. now was the time to kill the vampires that were about to kill the poor kid. you had prepared your whole life for this moment.

you quickly grabbed your stake and charged for the vampire that had the teen pinned under him. you couldn’t tell where his heart was since he was turned away from you, so you could only hope that your aim wouldn’t fail you. luckily, your aim hadn’t failed you and the stake went right through the vampires heart. it screamed loudly and let go of the boy that was under him. within seconds the screaming came to an end, and it was dead.

“you hunt vampires too?” the one that had been pinned asked. the other two were no longer being held back by the other vampires. it seemed that they immediately left when you killed their partner. you answered the question by showing them all of your vampire hunting equipment. they all looked pretty impressed and a bit surprised. you assumed that they probably weren’t used to people believing them about vampires.

after the whole ordeal they told you their names. the one that had been pinned and almost killed was sam emerson. “my brother was a vampire! he almost killed me!” he said. the other two were edgar and alan “the frog brothers”. they didn’t explain how they were introduced to vampires, they were more interested on how you became a vampire hunter like them. you explained to them that you were influenced by a campfire story, and even though it sounded silly you happened to be right. none of them could argue with that.

the frog brothers took you to their comic book store that morning. they didn’t worry about the dead vampire’s body being seen since he’ll end up burning completely from the first sunlight at dawn. edgar and alan showed you all of their vampire comics and gave you all of them for free. sam thought it was a bit unnecessary since you already were a vampire hunter, but for the frog brothers it was like an initiation. they wanted to know how educated you were about vampires.

once they all knew that you were pretty educated like they were, they explained to you their first vampire experience. to the point where sam’s brother was turned until to the point where they killed all the vampires at the emerson house. now they had been hunting any other vampires until there is none left. they were going to kill the ones from before, but it didn’t go as planned and they were lucky you showed up when you did.

sam was definitely the friendliest out of the three. when he first found out that you were a vampire hunter like them he was really eager to get to know you. he doesn’t let the whole vampire business get to his head. occasionally he just wants to do something fun and not always hunt for vampires. you and the frog brothers every now and then sleep over at sam’s house. his mother is pretty nice, and sam got to introduce you to his brother. “this is my brother, michael. you know, the ex vampire”. he’s definitely the most hyper out of the group, and is down to do anything fun. he’s super happy that you joined their group, and he hopes that you stay in santa carla forever.

alan was a bit skeptical about you joining their group at first, but once he got to know you he realized you were a good addition. even though him and his brother are always together, he is the nicer one out of the two. he was glad that you also hunted vampires, so you at least had something in common with him. even though he doesn’t have as big of temper as his brother he’d still be the kind of friend to beat someone up for you. or at least try. hes the “no one makes fun of my friends except for me” kind of friend. alan isn’t the type of friend to ask too many questions. mainly because he has a lot of secrets to keep because of his parents. if you make him mad he most likely won’t hold a grudge. if you don’t give him an apology then he might. if you do then he’s pretty chill about it. he doesn’t like being mad at people.

edgar was the one that didn’t think you were going to be a good addition at first, but he misjudged you. when he found out that you were pretty loyal to the group he knew that what he originally thought about you was wrong. when edgar has a friend it’s like he does everything in his power to not loose that friend. he doesn’t have that many people in his life, and the people he does have mean a lot to him. his brother alan, is like his other half, so if you make alan mad then edgar will be mad at you too. that’s just the way it goes. edgar does have a bad temper but he doesn’t mean to have one. it’s just something he’s had all his life, and doesn’t know how to get rid of. he doesn’t mean to be annoying or rude, he just doesn’t know how to express his frustration. you’ll have to be patient with edgar. if you’re patient with him then he’ll be patient with you.

edgar, alan, and sam got used to you pretty fast. it was like you had always been in their group, and they can’t imagine the group without you. it wouldn’t be the same. you were the fourth member of the Awesome Monster Bashers, and to all of you that meant the world.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

if you have a question about aussie slang, for a fic or whatevs, please just ask i don't know all of it, but we do have some fun words and sayings that are day to day statements

esp. the more rural you go

not everyone has the full accent though, because you do get a lot of pressure at work to come across... professional or whatever.

the only one i've never been sure of being an Actual Phrase, or if it Became A Phrase after popularisation on a tv show, is "Stone the Flaming Crows" bc a dude from Neighbours used to say it frequently.

examples of day to day stuff i can think of right now

mad as a frog in a sock (angry about something, went off, off the shits)

mad as a cut snake (usually means 'they're nuts', but can also mean they exploded with anger, usually contextual)

she'll be right (it's fine - can be a flippant statement, can be reassurance, etc)

drongo / galah - (idiot, not very smart, wanker, etc)

dunny = toilet

thunderbox/outhouse / long-drop - usually outdoor toilet

dry as a nun's nasty / dry as a dead dingo's donger (I am thirsty, or It Is Hot AF/we need rain so bad)

chuck a u-ey (do a u-turn)

Oi! (Hey I want your attention/i was surprised, general exclamation, stop that, you are in a lot of fucking trouble mate - depends on the tone of voice and volume) like "OI!" says aunty ruth has just found her dentures in jello and she knows you did it, etc

Bugger off (go away, or sometimes a statement of disbelief)

Yeah nah /Nah yeah (can mean yes, no or maybe depending on what was said directly before the statement)

you cant pull the wool over my eyes - you can't lie to me like that / i can see you are not telling the truth

shut your gob / put a sock in it / put a cork in it - (shut up / shut the FUCK up / close your mouth or i will shut it for you) depends on tone

Ya wally (you idiot)

Roo = kangaroo

o = can be affixed to anything to shorten it at the servo - gone to the service station, arvo - afternoon, smoko - morning tea, bottlo - where the grog is

goon/goonsack - wine in a box

grog - alcohol

stubbie - beer, ususally

boardies - board shorts

rashie - swimming shirt,

slip, slop, slap - ancient proverb for avoiding sunburn. singing pelican.

thongs - footwear

sheila = female / woman, don't hear this a lot at the moment tbh except in certain contexts or from specific people

'Getting rowdy' = things are heating up, people are riled up, a fight is about to/has just broken out, etc.

DJ's like a mad cunt = one very specific meme about a bad PM we had like 10 years ago. i can't tell you how many PM's ago, it's been game of thrones here lmao

Beyond the black stump / Out whoop-whoop / references to timbuktu (quite a distance away)

strewth!/crickey!/bloody hell - (exclamation of surprise, expletive replacement, etc)

flat out like a lizard drinking (tired / drunk / exhausted / sleeping)

pull a harry holt - (I've heard a dozens variations of this one, it means Go Missing / Disappear, often used as a joke. PM Holt went swimming one day and disappeared)

have a stickybeak (to poke your nose in/investigate/look around)

chuck a wobbly/throw a tanty/chuck a tanty/throw a wobbly (throw a tantrum, i have legit never seen anyone successfully deescalate a situation by telling someone not to chuck a wobbly or throw a tanty, go figure lmao)

bogan - (very specific kind of low-income, generally white, people. sort of like rednecks, but with more stereotypical aussie features like a mullet, singlet tops, sunnies, stubbies, etc. tend to fall under the liberal party ideology - who are our republicans... )

ankle-biters / rugrats / little takkers / gremlins / nippers - (kids, usually the littler ones)

tiff - argument, small fight (had a tiff, had a row)

pav = pavlova

piss/whizz/take a piss = going to pee

vegemite - delicious

Kiwi = New Zealander

Banana benders - the disrespectful bs that apparently other states call anyone living in Queensland, the wankers

station - farming areas that have sheep or livestock usually, have farmhands etc.

dole bludger(s) - (anyone on Centrelink, whether they want to be or not, with no other employment. but like, a lot of people on centrelink have a job that does not cover enough and need additional financial supports to meet a minimum wage, or are students or apprentices, etc. there are people who go on centrelink on and off to avoid engaging in the jobseeking stuff, they are the real dole bludgers, but a lot of richer people tend to call anyone on 'welfare' bludgers)

don't you come the raw prawn with me - (do not lie to me / don't try that shit with me, mate / I wasn't born yesterday /etc)

dak/dack - to dack someone is to come up behind them and yank their pants down (or skirts). Often taking out your boxers, too.)

budgie smugglers - (speedoes, male swimwear)

togs/toggs or cozzie (swimwear, any kind. cozzie = costume)

mozzie - (mosquito)

better than a kick up the backside /better than a kick in the arse - (pretty self explanatory, one of those phrases parents use to get slightly hurt kids to start laughing and/or coworkers to commisserate about new work rules, etc)

I wouldn't piss on (name) if they were on fire - (self-explanatory, you hate them, or they're a useless tit or an insufferable person /a suckup etc, and you would gladly hand them a match)

one for the road = getting a drink for the road, usually. can also make a joke of it like, "one last piss for the road" = I'm going to the bathroom before I leave

here's your handbag, what's your hurry - probs not an aussie phrase but a common joke in my family

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So like, there's some words and items from Australian Indigenous culture that often get used wrong in stereotypical characters, like saying 'gone walkabout', using 'cooee', making digeridoo jokes, and making some really uncomfy 'savages' statements can be very disrespectful. You might want to go looking into Australia's fucked up policies and historical (and only recent) situations before starting any arguments about this stuff... in many ways it mirrors the cruelty of american colonisers to native american peoples, etc.

Avoid some phrases. Your character gone to cool their head? He's gone off on to soak his head, or he's on his bike (gone away) but he'll be back... You can use 'Oi, dickhead!'

Please don't mock the names of towns or places, they are often the names from the traditional custodians and inhabitants.

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Random things:

We drive on the left side of the road, driver's side reversed.

More of our cars are automatic than manual. Utes aren't atypical, but bigger vehicles are out in rural areas because more than a few of the rural roads are poorly maintained or dirt, with potholes that yoyo your soul into your body.

If you have a character on a long drive on a non-highway, or rural road: +if you are on a one-lane road and someone is comingthe other way, you both move half-on, half-off; for big vehicles or trucks, you can choose to pull off completely and stop. Just for safety, esp. in rain, fog, mist or late at night. +at one-lane bridges, you have a give way sign on one side. if you want your characters to have a moment of 'pause to look at each other while driving' or 'a quiet moment of reflection', have them wait for another car or truck to pass from the other side. These can be a few metres long, to like, a really long bridge. +They may pass markers that say 'flood level marker' with numbers of 2, 3 or 5 metres. Could be useful to remark on if your fic needs a reason for them to have a crisis. +Bushfire warning signs (from Low to Catastrophic) are frequent +Animal Crossing signs are very frequent, and often have a wildlife rescue number on them +Water restriction signs are in most small towns, they range from levels 1 to 6. This can change what the characters are allowed to do with water in little towns, etc. +You may occasionally find a small servo and one or two houses. +pubs don't open/won't serve alcohol until after 10am. the joke has always been, 'beer on your cornflakes' but you will never be able to actually get that unless you preplanned the night before in your hotel room. +Around dawn and dusk, a lot of animals like hares, kangaroos, wallabies, sometimes echidnas and koalas and little numbat things, and snakes and bushmice will be close to the road. Sometimes dashing across. They do not react logically to cars approaching, and will leap out at random. Hares do this zigzag nonsense. If you need the character to hit the brakes frantically, or swerve, this is a good reason. If you are ever driving here and see an animal on the side of the road, flip lights to low beam, slow down and watch to see how they react. If you can. If there's a truck blaring down on you, you may not be able to.

+Emus are in more rural areas. Echidnas sometimes appear on fringes of towns though.

+Kookaburras are a lovely creature, I have rescued a few and they are nice... but their laugh is very grating when it goes off super early in the morning. They eat snakes (good) and baby birds (not so good).

+Lots of snakes round here. LOTS. Carpet Snakes are pretty common, red-belly black snakes, eastern brown (big danger!!!), whip snakes have declined in my region, keelback snakes, this one black and white banded one we found deceased, etc. Snakes can climb, snakes can SWIM. Putting something that stinks around a campsite MAY help, but not always.

+Never go swimming in a dam you don't own, and that hasn't been checked, and if no one knows where you are. How deep is it? What's on the bottom? How stirred is the water? etc.

+Kangaroos CAN drown you. They have perfected this attack, and will do it to humans, dogs and other pursuers alike. They can also eviscerate you with their hind paws or shatter your ribs with a kick. The 'boxing' they do is exceptionally violent. This seems to surprise people, but like, giraffes can kill each other by slamming their heads into each other, you think a 7 ft swole motherfucking cryptid can't do harm? They can be lovely tho, if they trust you. But DO NOT GO PETTING WILDLIFE.

+Dropbears, austrilanicus vericanthus bitus, are real. We do make jokes about them, but they are a Problem. The pee on yourself thing won't ward them off, that's more about working out which tourists are the most gullible (and if they run with it, the moistest) lmao. Akubras and other thicker-layered headwear,

+We have wild dogs and feral pigs. Do not fuck with the feral pigs, some are HUGE, and no... they're not just pigs who escaped farms, these are MASSIVE motherfuckers who will Get You if they See You. Rustling in the night outside the tent? Good Luck.

+Koalas should not be picked up directly. They have claws, and a lot of them have chamydia. I mean if a character saves one in a fic that's fine I guess, but like... someone's getting antibiotics after that lmao. They are bigger than you think, dumber than you think, and sometimes they have to be chased across a highway with a windscreen cover bc they're not very bright and keep failing to climb metal fences, lmaoooo

+Towns of about 20-30k will have more shops (some franchise, some local owned), servos, fast food places and usually at least two to three shopping centres. Usually small level entertainments like a cinema, or local groups. +Towns with 10-20k, may have one or two major shopping centres, servos (tracks and RVs catered to), possibly a maccas, and the majority of stores will be local-owned. May have a cinema, but not one that has the newest releases. Local council may have more festivals, or 'that one thing they're known for'. +0-10k towns have a small local store, prices usually a bit higher. A servo, often with capacity for trucks. Local festivals. Characters can cop a bit of side-eye in these places, esp. if they don't fit the traditional ideas or are loud/violently american. +Grey nomads are a thing. Old people with fancy caravans who drive So Slow, and move all around aus. Several refused to stop during covid and it was like, WHO DO YOU THNK WE'RE TRYING TO KEEP ALIVE BY STOPPING YOU MOVING THROUGH MULTIPLE TOWNS???

+Some rural areas have legit red dirt, its always super cool to look at. Some places have light brown to dark brown, some have more chalky colours or yellowish dirt. Depends.

+Reminder: Australia has very specific gun laws, if your character/s have weapons then they may need to be sneaky or store them specifically in the vehicle. Although if you're talking about like, mad max type rules, then who cares. But if you have them get into a gun fight in a town, the police will come, etc.

Dunno, just ask if you have a question... just trying to think of random things to paint a picture if you have a character over here for a roadtrip or mission or whatever.