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yourfangirlfriend · 3 years

Text

Wiring Issues

Multi-chapter

Rating: E! After chapter three

Chapter One

You’re a mechanic, not a therapist. Or a priest. Or whomever their creed confides in.

Besides, you like to work in silence. Sometimes there are electrical pops or malfunctioning gears that would be otherwise drowned out by music or small talk.

People talk too much anyway. Not comfortable in their own heads. They’re not a slick as they think they are when they try to fill the air with talk talk talk to drown out their own anxiety. Noise, it what that is.

But now you’re trying to think back to the last time you even opened your mouth, and, truthfully, it may have been even before he hired you weeks ago. Everything was over messages- Kreed recommended you, looking for a mechanic, I can pay- before he touched down outside your dilapidated hut a week later to begin your employment. You don't even remember if you waved at him or not. Once you got on the ship it was like you walked into a monastery. He disappeared up into the cockpit and you set about working on the problem in the hull. That’s been every day practically.

Maybe he said something that first morning, but you're not sure. The first week was a blur, most of it spent untangling the mess of wiring in the hull he had made trying to fix it himself. By the end of those first few days, your fingers were singed so badly from these messy nest you finally just decided to cut your losses and replace half of them. Sometimes he would pass by you, hovering just for a moment, but never said anything. Other than that, the only social exchange between the two of you was taking turns making caf and leaving the pot half full for the other.

The only other notable encounter happened in the second week when the hammock you had strung up in a little, out of the way nook had fallen right on your tool kit in the middle of the night with you in it. Before you were even fully awake, there he was at your door (er, curtain), blaster in hand and flipping on the light, ready to shoot the intruder. But it was just you, groaning on the floor, rubbing the part of your spine where you had landed on a wrench. Did he mumble an apology before leaving you to privately writhe on the floor? Or the next morning, when you had been checking out the bruise in the fresher when he walked in to see you crouched on the sink, lifting your shirt and contorting your body around to see your lower back in the mirror. He had left pretty quickly after that, but he must have gotten a good look and the large, angry mark because there was bacta gel left on your newly re-strung hammock that morning. It helped.

So, the routine went like this: he piloted, he went out to hunt, and he polished his guns. You kept the systems working, the lights on, and made the caf in the mornings. Most days he took the drink back up into the cockpit with a little nod of thanks. Sometimes you’d join him, and the two of you would sit silently, sipping the oily, black tar together before a little bell went off in both your heads to get to work. He’d go out, you’d stay in. When he returned and dealt with the bounty, you’d nod at each other like spice dealers in a back alley.

You’re here.

I am.

Still alive.

So are you.

Then up he went again, into his little hiding place, leaving you in a mess of wires.

Three more weeks into the usual, though, and you were getting bored. There was always something to fix, but lately, your jobs had become more cosmetic, and what monotony was broken up by your silent companion were few and far between, as his jobs took him away for increasingly long stretches of time, leaving you to your little projects. Once you had gotten the door to stop making that awful noise every time it opened, you had begun buffing out the dents and scrapes on the wall. When that was done, you fixed the bum lightbulb in the fresher and the track lights that ran through the ship, up until you got to his quarters. Then, you went to the cockpit and, using some old paint you had found in the ship's storage, that you had nearly pulled a muscle stirring with water it was so old, you color-coded the buttons. Yeah, the fucking buttons. When you decided to join him in the cockpit the next morning, the two of you silently drinking caf together, he pointed to them. You shrugged. You try being on a ship with nothing to do for weeks.

Maybe it was because you were so starved for any kind of interaction, but you began to sit with him in the cockpit more. Morning caf quickly became a routine, the two of you sitting and staring out into space together as you tried to wake yourselves up. Then, when your projects were small enough, you'd haul them up and deposit yourself into the co-pilot's chair, tinkering mindlessly as the two of you cruised through the infinite. In turn, sometimes during the evening, he would sit with you at the table as you ate. He never ate with you, but you always made extra in case he wanted to. Most mornings you'd find an additional empty dish in the sink, and smile in spite of yourself.

Maybe it would have kept going like this, this socializing like house cats, content to just be doing things around each other, you finding odd jobs and him continuing to do his broody badass thing if you hadn’t brought the caf up to the cockpit this morning and saw him with his head – his actual head- in his hands.

To be fair, you were usually noisier when you clambered up the ladder. And, also to be fair, he didn’t act like it was a big deal. But you nearly dropped the cups. Six weeks working for the guy and you had just kind of assumed the helmet was a permanent thing. Like, maybe he was disfigured or scared underneath that visor, or a breathing apparatus. Hell, you kind of had a running bet with yourself that he might just be a droid. But…ah, nope.

So when he turned to you and you met those big brown eyes for the first time, you jumped, like he had just caught you watching him undress. Hot caf spilled on your fingers.

“Fuck!” You rush over to the chair and set the mugs down before pulling the injured finger to your mouth and sucking.

“So she can talk.”

You swivel around and shoot him a look. He’s sat up now, reaching for one of the cups.

“I thought you were mute,” he says before taking a sip.

“Me?” you talk around your finger before remembering it was even in your mouth. You pull the digit out and move to take the other cup before taking your seat. “I thought you didn’t have a face.”

He puts his drink down and gestures with his palm under his chin as if presenting himself. “I do,”

“Yeah, and I talk.” You say before taking a sip. The two of you fall into an easy silence again.

“You snore.” He says.

“So do you,” you counter. “Shake the damn walls.”

There a flash of a smile before he finishes his drink and places the mug down again. Before you know it he’s pulling the helmet back on and standing.

“I’ll be gone a few days,” he says. “I left some credits in the cooking area. Not much but enough to buy anything we may need from the market.” He strides past you and makes for the ladder. It feels strange, not acknowledging how your silent routine has just been unceremoniously upended. But you don’t want him to stop talking.

“Any requests?” you ask just as his shiny little head is about to disappear down the ladder. He pauses.

“…yeah.” He says. “There’s these…blue cookies.”

“Blue…cookies…” you repeat.

“Yeah,” he says. “like little sandwiches.”

When you don’t immediately respond, he speaks up.

“Just if you see them,” he grunts. Then he drops down before you can open your mouth.

“Aye aye,” you call after him, but the bull door is already opening, and it’s still a much noisier operation that you’d like. You doubt he hears your before it shuts behind him.

Alone in the cockpit, you smile to yourself.

The big, scary Mandolorian likes cookies.

The market ends up having the cookies, which makes you a little happier than you thought it would. The market also has whiskey, which definitely makes you happy. It’s a little pricey, but you plan to tell him to take it out of your pay – which he hasn’t given you yet. So, really, it’s fair game. You keep to yourself as you wander down the stalls picking up the random things you can justify purchasing – soap for the laundry, more ground caf, some produce. You don’t realize until you’re nearly back to the ship how little you talked. It surprises you.

Thought you were a mute.

Why does that annoy you?

“Not a mute,” you say to yourself as you key in the door’s code. When you deposit your haul on the table, you hum to yourself, if only to remind yourself that you can.

"Mute. 'Oh I'm the big scary Mandalorian with my secret pretty face and I never thought to start a conversation with the woman who fixes my piece of shit ship'." You begin to put the goods away. "'I don't appreciate good button paint jobs, stock the kitchen with shit caf, and snore LOUDER THAN A BANTHA.' " You huff as you close the cabinet before stomping over to the table and grabbing the whiskey by the neck. You're just about to put it away before the thought occurs to you.

You hold the bottle up and bite your lip.

Well, buckethead isn’t here to judge you, and a clean ship is a clean ship.

Fuck. Alright.

Fuck.

You didn’t mean to get this drunk.

You had taken maybe two shots before you began to scrub up the cooking area and for fifteen minutes you thought you had just bought some shitty juice – your Jawaese isn’t great, maybe you misread the label – but now.

Hoo boy.

“You’re good,” you tell yourself. You squeeze the sponge out in the sink and momentarily become amazed just by how much water it can hold. You do it again. And again. “You are sooooo good. You’re just a little drunk and you’re on a ship,” you fall into a sing song rhythm.

Yeah. You’re drunk.

“Yeah, you’re just a little drunk and you’re on a ship, bada bah bah,” you drum on the counter before sashaying over to your little nook to collect the dirty clothes from the shameful dark corner. With more pageantry than is necessary, you swing the door to the washer open and throw the pile in with a flashy swish of your wrist. “you’re doing laundry because you smell like shit, bah dah bah bum” you skip into the corridor and head to the fresher. There’s an extra basket in there that you know is filled with towels, and in this very heady musical moment you’ve decided that you are just the best housekeeper. Gods, he’s lucky to have such a considerate employee.

“You’re doing the launnnnndry,” you sing as you kick the door open. The lights come on and you shimmy over to the basket. “Cause you’re just so connnssiiiidddeeerrrATE! Bah dah bum!” you bap the top of the basket. You haul the whole thing from the fresher and skip to the washer, banging the bottom against the floor in time.

“Uh! Uh! Yeah!” you crouch in front of the washer and begin loading in the towels, trying not to think about which ones are from you and which are from him. You are not going to think of him naked. “They don’t quite smell, but they need a cllleeeeAAAANNNN!” You reach for one last towel.

This is not a towel.

Oh Maker, if this is his underclothes-

Well, you’d just have to leave then, wouldn’t you? It took six weeks to see his face and hear him speak, for fuck’s sake, if this is what you think you’re really rushing down the hill of intimacy.

Feeling brave, you pull the garment up from the pile and glance down.

Oh god it’s brown –

And….not underclothes.

It’s…a tiny robe?

Before you can even begin to worry if this means he has a secret doll collection presented proudly somewhere in his room –

“What happened to the singing?”

-you nearly shit yourself.

“What the fuck!” you kick back from the washer and land hard against the counter.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

It takes you a minute before you put two and two together. Your eyes flick up to the comm box on the wall.

“Are you- have you been – are you listening to me?”

“Are you spending credits on booze?”

You huff and pull yourself up to stand.

“This is a glaring invasion of privacy,” you say, crumpling the small article in your hand.

“Don’t worry. I just turned it on to tell you I’m coming back early. But seems like I caught you in the middle of the show.”

“Ha ha,” you say. “He’s got a face and he tells jokes.”

“I’ll be back after sunset. Don’t dent anything drumming” And with that you hear what you think is the click of the comm turn off.

“Hello?” you call. Nothing.

“Are you still there?” you try again. Silence. Well, now you’re angry. “You asshole. What if! What if I had been…” you reach for the bottle on the counter and begin to unscrew the lid. “…having a private conversation?” you pour a small amount into the glass.

“What if I had been actually singing? I’m a good singer when I try, you know.”

(you’re not).

The comm is quiet.

“I think this merits a serious discussion about boss and employee trust!” you screech up at the box.

Nothing.

Maybe that’s what makes you bold.

“What if,” You put the glass to your mouth. “I had been loudly masturbating, huh? Just really going to town, thinking of your stupid, surprisingly sexy face? ‘Uh! Uh! UH! YEAH! Keep the gloves on!’”

Smiling to yourself, and blushing just a little, you take a sip.

“Would you have drummed just as loud?”

You spit whiskey over the counter.

#the mandolorian x reader #the mandolarian #din djarin #fi

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nomanicsdak · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://manicdak.com/picnics-and-pirates/

Picnics and Pirates

Neverending Isles

Well, we’re back at it, here in far away, long ago Greece, where I start the game after a long hiatus playing Anthem (don’t @ me). I am finishing up an ice cream sandwich IRL while waiting for things to load up and get immediately assassinated by some bounty hunters, because as it turns out, I am still standing over Podarkes dead bod. When I return from being unsynchronized, I pay for my bounty because I don’t want them hassling me. Now it’s time to get down to business and reacquaint myself to the controls. I still have a gazillion points on the map to explore!

What I remember is that I think I have finished with the Silver Islands, which have lost their sheen after I found out that they don’t let you die there, and I am on a quest to defeat a cult and find my mom so I can find out who my dad is.

Let us now seek a new side quest so I don’t have to do any of that!

Here we go, I meet up with my pal, Barnabas and he’s giving me the update on Kyra! So they didn’t just fade off into the sunset without saying goodbye after all. I feel better about that since I put all that time in here. She is putting her traitorous dad to rest and is grateful I haven’t told her secret. (The secret of her dad being a murderous traitor thief.)

My Alexios’s opinion is that Podarkes should rot, but that the troops deserve a good story, especially Thaletas who is waiting up the stairs I am told. Barnabas bids me good night as he tells me to relax and party it up for a minute, and now I have a quest called a night to remember.

I will never be done with the Silver Isles, also, I’m not hookin’ it up with Thaletas, game. You better not still be trying to make that happen!

First, I’m led to Kyra as she lights dad’s funeral pyre. She has complicated feelings about this whole situation, but I encourage her to stay strong and help her peeps so a new Podarkes doesn’t crop up. We head back to the party now.

The bear smuggler is there all touching up on Barnabas’s face. She calls him Barny which is a good nickname for him that I didn’t even think of, because I couldn’t remember his name for several days after I met him. I’m going to steal it. They have bonded over their opposite missing eyes. How nice. Apparently they are in love now. What the hell? I spent so long wandering around these dumb islands that my boat captain has acquired a girlfriend. I can invite her to join the crew, so why not. Everybody wins? Maybe we could use a smuggler.

Once we are done with that love story, I can now breath a sigh of relief, because Kyra and Thaletas are together for reals, and he is no longer awkwardly hitting on me. Yay! Also, he’s over here turning down Spartan generalship in order to settle on the islands with Kyra. This is quite a thing for a dude who wanted to fight me to prove my Spartaness. Good for them, for now!

I decide to bow out quietly and leave the rebels to their islands without speechifying about it, despite Barny’s wishes. Of course, I can’t leave without Sokrates showing up to say goodbye and philosophizing at me. Until next time, Sokrates!

But I see new quests…what? I am determined to finish these silver isles though, so I’m heading back across the way to Mykanos now.

Psych! Apparently you can create your own levels in assassin’s creed now, and these silver exclamation points are user created. It’s been so long since I’ve been here there are new game mechanics. Of course in the first one I pick just to see what they’re like, my “one true love”, Thaletas, wants me to assassin someone for him. Even random internet strangers want me to hook up with this dude! Sorry, video game gods, it’s not gonna happen!

I move back to that blasted pirate island with the dagger lady that I attempted earlier in the game and spend the entirety of my gaming night trying to beat it. I KNOW I’ve faced dual wielding rogues before and beat them. This pirate lady is two entire levels below me, so I don’t know why this is so difficult! Bah. One bonus to this location when I finally beat her, is that there is a cultist here! I wasn’t even looking for one! So we get to cross another of those dudes off the cult family tree.

Since we’re laying siege to pirate islands tonight, let’s go find another one. There is a huge one to the west of me, so that is where we head! First a quick stop off at this little nothing island called Lestris. There is a quest item here though. Let’s see if we can find out what quest it belongs to… Huh. Artifact fragments it looks like??? Maybe I should upgrade my spear instead of going to pirate island.

Just kidding again! I travel all the way back to spear island to find out I need seven artifacts for the next section, but I only have four. Damn. Back to Pirate island I guess.

Yo-Ho-Ho

This place is literally called Pirate Island this time. I thought it might end up in another silver isles situation, but this one only has a couple of quests that don’t lead on an endless string of other quests. It is however, filled with bobcats jumping on my back. Which sucks, because I’m not about killing bobcats, but if they’re going to attack me…

Our first quest is for a little girl. She’s gathering clay for her friends and wants to make them some jewelry, so she asks Alexios if he will go find some pearls and shiny rocks. Sure thing! Helping the children of Greece free of charge are my favorite tasks.

I return to her shack on the hill expecting some more kids, but instead find three huge lumps of clay, and these are her friends. <Insert distressed smiley face here> I was not expecting this innocuous quest to turn tragic, but then again, I never do. Turns out her mother decided to go pirate to get some money and make a better life, but returned with a stab wound. Her last words to her daughter were to be good and make friends. The kid has literally made friends. Out of clay.

All my friends are clay.

I don’t really have the heart to tell this lonely child that her friends are clay lumps and she is delusional and needs to go out and meet real people. I choose to tell her that anybody can be a friend. My bestie is an eagle after all. She thinks that’s pretty cool. Maybe I can inspire all the young girls of Greece to become falconers? (I return a bit later and find her crying, because the rain has washed her friends away, but we cannot interact anymore. Did I do the wrong thing? )

Alexios, Blending right in

Second quest is some dude’s wife picking ceremony. The woman I talk to insists that she loves this man and he loves her. Apparently I get no choice but to think she is a gold digger. Is she? Who knows? An acolyte of Hecate approaches us and offers to make her a love potion. I and Alexios think this is a ridiculous farce, but agree to help anyway. I fetch some shrooms and some some wine and hand it over to the ‘witch’. All she needs now is a lock of the woman’s hair.

A love potion that causes hair to fall out, but not at the root– The mysterious ways of Hecate, I guess.

I return the next night and our friend is bald! Turns out the witch was merely a rival for the rich dude’s affections, and she has tricked this woman into drinking a sort of poison. It was only supposed to give her a rash, not make all her hair fall out. As to the why of the situation, the witch thinks she deserves this dude because they’ve known each other since childhood, and was just playing the game. The other woman is distraught, obviously.

the witch is way too pleased with her plan

But the show must go on! — This whole prank has rubbed me the wrong way and the ‘witch’s maniacal laughter is really not helping much, but I don’t get many options in the way of a peaceful resolution. It’s either, So sorry about your luck, bald lady, or kill the witch! (My true choice would be to tell the bald woman to forget about the rich dude; he’s not worth it and then hightail it out of there.) I call the guards on the ‘witch’ and hope she’ll just get arrested or something. Naaah. With that choice I get an update to the quest for witch killing. Damn.

I just stand aside and let the guards do it.

And that’s everything of note on pirate island! A short and sweet one with surprisingly few pirates! Maybe tomorrow we’ll hunt some cultists so I can upgrade my spear!

I do find one short quest somewhere along the way, but I forget where it was. A woman instructs me to go to a cemetery to find out which God is the most powerful: Apollo (I think? Or was it Ares? Something with an A. I didn’t write this one down!) or Posiden. “A” god has lions which are pretty powerful, but Posiden has like…sharks and krakens. Choices, choices. While I’m figuring this out some dude comes up to me and is absolutely convince I’m going to kill him. Huh? I tell him all is cool, bro, but then he comes after me anyway, because Athena told him it must be.

I didn’t get this memo

Back to the old lady who gave me this dumb quest, and I tell her Athena is the most powerful, because she got this dude to commit suicide by mysthios without lions or sharks. The lady thinks this is all amusing and I don’t even remember if she got the answer she wanted, and I don’t even know if I got any drachmae for it, but there you have it! Moving swiftly onward–

Wading into the Deep End

Update: So it turns out that I didn’t find an artifact on that island, just a clue to find one, which is good, because I need three more to upgrade! It has led me Achaia and now I can’t find the letter with the clue so… great. Am I even supposed to be here? I guess I’ll go search the coves and see what I can find!

I find many enemies that are at least ten levels above me, so–I definitely am not supposed to be here yet! Also, I’m level 30, how long is this game??? Before I move on to easier targets, I find the sunken temple of Demeter and some Ares boots that I can sell later. Maybe I’ll tackle the cultist in the arena? I have an actual quest for that, so maybe I’m not too weak for that one? It is in Pephka, and I get to reveal a whole new section of the map if I go there. So, let’s go!

Ouch!

First, I stop off at an underwater cavern to get some loot and fight some sharks. Turns out the quest item on that island was not the cultist letter, nor was it an artifact…it was some bricks. Do I have a quest for bricks??? What? Forget it. I’m going to the arena and resisting the temptation to stop at every island along the way. In keeping with the theme somehow…it is at a place called Pirate Point.

Ahh, turns out this is all Barny’s doing. He thought I should give this arena thing a try, because, obviously, I have nothing else to do. I talk to a guy named Skoura. I guess I’m here to inspire the crowds to believe in heroes again. I’ll do it!

It’s Skoura!

Well, I’ll do it up until the point where these other dudes are a higher level than me. There is a guy at level 50. Damn. Hopefully the cultist makes himself known before then. Is it Skoura??? I hope not, I kinda like the old dude. Also, I’m going to have to question this whole operation…

Like, why does Alexios, a single human person (or Demi-god?), have to fight like 20 dudes before I get to my opponent??? He only has to fight me. How fair is that? (I’m just complaining, because I am not good at this, and also this sucks and is no fun, but I won’t rage-quit just yet.) At least not until–yes, that did it–some upgraded gear did the trick. It is always my downfall.

After I win my first bout, some dude named Maion approaches me and Skoura. He’s all about the drachmae, so I don’t trust him. Hmm. Maybe he’s the cultist? I just want to find him before I get too deep in this arena business. Is that too much to ask? But there are only two out of five guys at my level or below.

Yeah, the one guy is going to be it for the arena for now. Excuse me while I go grind, thank you very much.

A Tale of Two Brothers

Here’s a novel Idea–Let’s get on with the story. Did I say I was going to investigate Alkibiades clue? Let’s do that! Off to Korinth we go! There are lots of undiscovered locations here. *rubs hands together in anticipation*

First thing I find is a bandit camp, which I think is going to be a simple affair not worth mentioning, but instead there is a quest there. I rescue some dude named Lykinos who has no idea why these bandits were shaking him down. I have to carry him to get him away. Let’s return him to his dad before I accidentally kill him trying to put him on the ground (I forgot which button puts people down!) and see what journey I have to go on now.

Okay, dude is an Athenian poet. When we get him home safe, and sound, it turns out that the bandit’s killed dad! Sad. We find this out because Lykinos’s brother–some call him Tim–shows up to tell us. He’s all aggro about it, probably because Lykinos has been swanning around Athens writing poems instead of being there at home / fighting wars. Now I get to do favors for both of them.

Lykinos cannot believe this shit

Tim wants me to get some Athenian armor from a vendor, and this can’t possibly be as easy to do as it sounds. Lykinos wants revenge. Even Alexios sounds weary with that idea, because he’s trying to convince Lykinos nobody wants any more bloodshed. He agrees, that’s why he’s hiring me. Gee, thanks, fella.

I go to the merchant and it turns out that that dad sold his armor, or maybe this guy is trying to cheat me? Whatevs. Buy all the armor! I only spend money on upgrades (if I remember to) and paying off my own bounties anyway.

Armor in hand, I head off to dispatch the bandits. When I get to their camp, I find them besieged by a pack of wolves. Maybe if I sneak hard enough, the wolves will do all the work for me??? All right, I am not that lucky or good at sneaking, but these dudes aren’t that difficult. I find a letter in the camp that says dear old dad owed these bandits a lot of money. Loan sharkin’ it up again, I see. I wonder if there’s a bigger badder shark behind these guys?

Spoiler: There is not. I’m always overthinking these sidequest plots.

What I do know is that I’m apparently staying for this funeral even after revealing the truth of dad’s shady business dealings. Tim wants me to get oil for an offering, and Lykinos thinks I should get some wine. He seems confused about what the oil’s for though, and there’s a lot of tension between these bros. We shall see! I get both offerings and complete a location.

When I return to my friends, they are having a brotherly blow up, like brothers do. After I give them a pep talk about being there for one another, because they’re all they’ve got left, it is time to go. Or is it?

Now Hug it Out!

Because, are these bros vibing on Alexios, or is it just me? Well, Lykinos wants to meet up with me later anyway. Winkity, wink?? Like, the last dude that wanted to see me after a quest was complete, I ended up with a bed of rose petals.

Aaahahah. Lykinos wants to make me dinner. I TOLD you. First I have to hunt down some deers, and when I meet him it’s on this picturesque overlook at sunset. Geez. Well, played, poet man. Dinner and a view–I think this hits the sweet spot right between a overly-sentimental bed of rose petals and goat orgy. I actually like this guy, so let’s do it!

But first a chat about Lykinos being a lying liar who lies. See, turns out he didn’t come back just to visit the fam. Actually, he just failed at being an artist in the big city. He didn’t want to tell his family so as not to disappoint them, and he didn’t want to tell me, because he was trying to impress me. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do know, because he’s not exactly the fighting type. I tell him he should become a cook because this venison meal he’s made is A+++

Are You serious right now?

Alright! Heart to heart over; we fade to black and return the next morning with Alexios all by himself again. Such is the life of a mercenary! It’s on to the next quest I suppose.

#assassin's creed #Games #Assassin's Creed #Odyssey

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