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rquerdo · 1 year

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OOAK Kingdom Hearts Chest

Hey party people!

So a while back, I had two boxes that were from a DIY Thanksgiving kit and thought, "wouldn't it be cool to make a Kingdom Hearts Chest?" As a kid, I've always wanted one-and now that I'm old enough to buy the materials, now's the perfect opportunity. Funny yet, later on the process, I've decided that it wasn't going to be for me but for my nephew in his upcoming baby shower. I bought a lot of gifts for him so I thought this would be a cool add-on.

Here I will send you screenshots as well as my thought process/encounters; First off, materials.

I have used the following (Quantity depends on the sizing of the box):

Cardboard (I recommend stiff boards), Acrylic Paint (Warm Yellow, Blue, and Black), Door Hinges, Paint Varnish, Modeling Foam*, Foam Rolls*, fabric, Spackling, scissors, x-acto knife, plaster rolls. Sanding paper or blocks.

*I recommend using Worbla instead of both the modeling foam and foam rolls, I explain why further down.

DISCLAIMER: I'm no professional. I will be pointing out the flaws that I've encountered throughout the process-it is up to you if you want to follow along or find a better alternative.

First off, here's what we are working with. Ideally the shape is more rounded I bought about 3 to 4 stiff boards to act as my foundation. After I've placed the stiff boards down in place, I then placed some plaster rolls to hide the seams from each stiff board planks.

At this point, I figured the bottom looked weird. So I did the same process for what I've done on the top.

I'm glad that I ended up doing this because I knew the cardboard base was not going to hold for a while. I've made some supports (don't know what these would actually be called) so that I don't have to stack the stiff boards two or three times. If this was regular cardboard, I wouldn't do it since cardboard's weak when it comes to carrying weight, but luckily this held up throughout the process of making it.

Time for the speckling.

Overall, this process was overwhelming. At this point, I thought I messed up since the speckling didn't want to adhere to the chest at first. However, with lots of patience and elbow grease, I've managed to get it done! I had to do this in multiple layers since soft speckling tends to go everywhere. When it's harden, it's easier to work with.

Oh, and yes this step was very messy. Especially when it came to sanding.

Overall, the chest ended two of my sanding block's lives and created a huge mess. Please sand with caution; don't inhale the dust! I know that there are methods to reducing the dust flying everywhere (like using water), but I was afraid to do since I've never used speckling for a project before; not sure if it would affect the cure process of some sort.

Once sanded, I then made a sketch of where everything will be going and how I want the pattern to be. I knew I wanted to make my own version of the chest instead of trying to make it a carbon copy of it, so I've implemented some key parts (like the keyhole and crown), but everything else was loosely altered.

Just cutting the keyhole alone took me about 2 hours. I wanted to make sure that it was symmetrical and stayed in place nicely. I used Foam Rolls to create the trimming however I highly recommend using worbla instead. My local art store did not have any more worbla so I figured that this was another alternative. I found it difficult to work with and when gluing it in place, it would want to come out. Worbla tends to get sticky when heat is applied so glue might not even be necessary if you plan on applying a lacquer on the entire chest.

To hide the foam seams, I decided to use modeling foam. This...was another medium that I found interesting. Applying it is not as difficult but when it's exposed to air for about 10 minutes, the foam gets extremely sticky. Imagine slime without the activator, or imagine playing with a melted marshmallow. Again, it would just be easier to use worbla.

I knew I wanted the chest to open...like a chest so I got some door hinges. So the screws provided were too small for the chest so I ended up buying longer screws. Overall, I wish I had a drill to better secure the screws and bolts together, but not the worst thing ever. Still stays in place.

The paint job was fun, but difficult..my goodness...

I knew the modeling foam would stick out like a sore thumb and unlike other clay or pastes, you can't sand it. So I got my hot glue and created some texture which I think did a well-good job on hiding the foam. While contemplating about the overall design, I thought it would be cool to give the yellow a metallic, gold sheen to it. I thought it was a good move. I love how the hot glue sticks out with the gold compared to just using the yellow paints.

Oh the inside... It's a hot mess.

Instead of trying to paint, sand and use even more modeling foam. I've decided to hide this ugly mess with some fabrics that I have around from previous projects.

I've glued some gold fabric onto some felt (not necessary to be honest). and applied it on the base and the roof of the chest. I didn't have any blue fabric but I did have some shiny purple fabric. I think it works well with the gold.

(I know the base looks like silver but I guarantee you that it's gold)

After applying two layers of lacquer to prevent the paint from chipping, I'm finally done!

So happy with how this turned out! To be quite honest, this project took forever to finish. I think I spent about 15 hours on it? I know for some people, that sounds ridiculous but let me remind you that this is the first time for me and this entire project had a lot of trial and error.

I know there's a lot of flaws with it but one thing about me, I like to cherish my artwork-even if it's a hot mess.

Self Critiques:

Not use foam rolls/ modeling foam but rather worbla.

Pay more attention to how the chest looks opened and closed

Be more patient when applying the fabrics inside the chest. It looks messy in my opinion and I know I could've been more patient when cutting and folding the seam allowance.

Invest in a drill. the latch is not exactly the most secured when opening.

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kariachi · 10 months

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Headcanon: Across Pern, each Hold, cothold, Crafthall, and Weyr has dedicated space set aside for the farming of glows. There are several varieties of glow, owing to Pern’s expansive subterranean ecosystems, but the most commonly cultivated are the classic fungoid glows, coming in a variety of species with fruiting body sizes and light colors ranging from about the size of a grape to the size of a golfball and ‘classic’ ‘glow-in-the-dark’ green to electric blue. Cultivated species are typically short and their caps can be convex, ovulate, or umbilicate in shape depending on the species, with porous undersides.

Typically, when a new location is settled, the first group moving there will endeavor to include an individual experienced in the cultivation of glows, who will be expected to bring their own spawn. The construction of a glow farming area will be of utmost importance, second only to housing and hygiene areas, and usually placed in their own little corner a distance from the others. These locations typically consist of an open space with long, shallow troughs arranged in rows and columns throughout. How many depends on the size of the community, and it’s not uncommon for Holds, Crafthalls, and Weyrs to have more than one of these spaces. The minimum number is typically six troughs, however.

Inoculated substrate is placed in these troughs and tended in such a way as to encourage staggered fruiting. In this way the glow producer can ensure that as one load of glows fades another is ready to take it’s place. As each trough reaches it’s maturity and it’s fruiting bodies reach a point where they can be put to use, the substrate will be divided and placed into specialized baskets- woven in nature, but sealed with wax or pitch to retain moisture in the substrate- which are then distributed across the community.

One of the major forms of business of the Smithcrafthall is the production of mirrors- both glass and polished metal- to be used with glows. They produce light, yes, but the illumination isn’t that great. The use of specially-made glow-mirrors allows for more efficient use of light and serves to enhance the illuminating capabilities of the glows themselves. In public areas these are all-but built into the alcoves in which glow-baskets are stored, covering them in such a manner as to direct the light outward into work spaces or corridors. In private spaces they’re typically smaller and arranged to provide more precise lighting. Also adding to the illumination capabilities of glows is that their spores are also bioluminescent. Thanks to this, while the light given off by fungoid glows tends to diminish over time (the best illumination is found in the middle of the fruiting period, first growing as the glows themselves do and then diminishing as they begin to die off) the area around the glowbasket becomes also illuminated by the spores they’ve given off.

As the fruiting bodies reach the end of their usefulness after 7 to 10 days the baskets are replaced with a new batch, a job which- alongside tending the public baskets- typically goes to the children, fosterlings, or apprentices of the glow cultivators. Glowbaskets in private areas are often brought to the cultivation area by their owners to be traded for a new basket. The spent fruiting bodies are removed and either trashed, composted, or used as animal feed depending. The mycelium network is brushed free of spent substrate and, with the addition of new substrate, returned to the troughs to continue it’s cycle of production. Spores and loose pieces of substrate from the cleaning process are collected and taken to the fecal processing area.

Owing to their subterranean ancestry, fungoid glows thrive in the most available substrate in such areas, excrement. As one can guess, this fact makes individuals in this line of work of iffy social status, though they remain among the most valuable members of any community. The source makes no real difference, whether livestock, dragonkin, human, etc, whichever is considered least valuable as composting material goes to the production of fungoid glows. In fact, in small cotholds or young communities, it’s often the glow cultivators who are in charge of managing the community’s nightsoil. All communities will have a shed or barn dedicated to storing the manure, with an area nearby dedicated to preparing it into proper substrate, generally through breaking it up and sterilizing it in large, shallow copper pots over a fire. Sterilized manure, now proper substrate, is stored in another shed, where it’s inoculated with spores and shed mycelium and tended until it’s ready to join or replace the glows in the troughs.

Thanks to this heat-treating process, while the original manure has a... distinctive odor, cultivation areas and glowbaskets do not, having instead a more earthy aroma.

Glow cultivation, of all varieties, is what’s known as a ‘Smallcraft’. These are crafts that exist as their own guilds associated with one or more Crafthalls. Members of these smallcrafts often pursue education within the related Crafthalls- either beginning their education in these Halls before specializing or adjusting their education to be completed as a member of these Halls- but unless they specifically join the Crafthalls they remain members of the Smallcraft. Unlike members of Crafthalls, members of Smallcrafts are not required to study in a centralized location, but are required to work and study under a Master of the craft, though lessons in their craft are typically available in at least one of the Crafthalls with whom their Smallcraft is associated. Outside of the Halls, Masters take on apprentices at their own discretion. Journeyman testing is generally standardized at biyearly conferences, though Masters can give their apprentices these tests at their own discretion once again. Upon reaching Journeyman rank one becomes open to reassignment at the discretion of the MasterCrafter, either to expand one’s experience by putting them under other Masters or by assigning them to fill positions requested of the MasterCrafter by outside groups. Journeymen looking to advance in rank present their masterwork at the aforementioned biyearly conference, during which the Masters and MasterCrafter will judge their accomplishments and determine whether they should move up.

Examples of Smallcraft include- Midwives, Singers, and Luminures (our glow cultivators). Most Smallcrafts don’t tithe to the Weyrs, as their lack of centralization makes it more difficult and how widespread their work often is means they generally pay their due in work anyway.

MasterLuminur Kuntama was, as of the beginning of the Ninth Pass, centered in the Farmcrafthall, but the Smallcraft is also associated with the Beastcrafthall, with some work ongoing regarding potential dealings with the Fishcrafthall thanks to the ongoing experimentations of Master Luminur Adete.

#headcanons #this wasn't supposed to hit on the crafts but i guess we also have smallcrafts now

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smallcraftlife · 2 years

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Ready to launch at the LAYC. SmallCraftLife.com

#SmallCraftLife #drascombescaffie #drascombe #sail #coastal survival community #dinghycruisingassociation #coastalexploration #coastal survival #bushcraftskills #coastal exploration #bushcraft #smallcraft #fishing #florida120 #mississippi110 #bushcraft skills #dca #shtf

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reshippedsblog · 8 months

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#BigAdventures #Exploring #SafetyMeasures #SmallBoat #SmallCraft

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puzzlepaws · 1 year

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What am I up to this week? I’m going to tackle this Sequin Art kit that’s been on my shelf for over a year! I didn’t have any lions for the start of March, so this #snowleopard will have to do. #sequinart #reviewer #smallcrafts #makeitshiny #fightingboredom #sequins #artistsoninstagram #velvetart #snep https://www.instagram.com/p/Cpdugn8OVfW/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#snowleopard #sequinart #reviewer #smallcrafts #makeitshiny #fightingboredom #sequins #artistsoninstagram #velvetart #snep

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jame7t · 3 months

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Will you stream more lethal company? I very much enjoy the treasures and frights game it is fun to watch and nice to fall asleep to (lowly vod watcher) (long vod = don't have to pick another video if I don't fall asleep) (conversations and volume changes > white noise bc they keep my brain busy and not telling me stupid things). Other games are also fun and nice though (like the smallcraft 🐌🐕[slugpup]) I am just curious

We’ll probably play some lethal company every time they update it! I know this Thursday @cottoncandylesbo is gonna stream it and I’ll be there and the scary & attacks will happen etc ^_^

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gingerlurk · 5 months

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Lovers' Crest | Chapter 8: The Heist

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: The plan really isn’t all that complicated. It’s just wildly dangerous and leaves plenty to chance…

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), canon-typical violence, eventual smut/filth, post season 3, canon-typical violence, dry humping if you squint, loads of action, cliffhanger.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Torre is ninety percent sure she is in love with that tin can buzzkill, though it perplexes him why. He’s also completely certain that it is reciprocated and knows the two of them haven’t admitted it to each other. If even to themselves.

The argument was an interesting listen. She’s just as emotionally repressed now as back then, unwilling or unable to accept any kind of esteem that isn’t coated in caveats and conditions. She also can’t stand having her intentions misunderstood.

He’s ninety percent sure, but he’s decided to shoot his shot anyway.

Start with touch, he thinks to himself, but go easy. It’s her primary love language, which is why she resists it so often. But she’s caught up in the job, letting him brush a hand on an elbow or pressing shoulders as they work. His hope is that it reaches into her subconscious and connects to what they used to have. It’s still in there; he can feel it. It’s why he’s letting go of the past, for her and what you two had.

‘You know, hon,’ he sighs, leaning his head on the wall by the panel she’s working at. ‘I was already watching you in that cantina, sitting in that booth with the weird green kid?’

‘Torre,’ she grits through the phase driver in her teeth. ‘Tryin’ t’concentrate.’

‘Oh please, you could do that in your sleep.’ He gets more comfortable. ‘I don’t think I’d actually recognised you at that point, but you still drew me in. Something you carry, dove. Something in you. I was honest to gods working up to go over to talk to you, before I even knew it was you…’

Torre touches her elbow, mutters her name. ‘What are the odds, huh? The same bar? The same day? After all this time? It must have been meant to be.’

A crackle from the panel and the lock cycles. She just gathers her tools and moves.

‘Another down, four to go,’ she says, waits for the hatch to slide and slips through. He ducks in behind her, crowding her subtly, and it hushes closed again. She doesn’t pause, just strides ahead.

Have patience, Torre tells himself. Pick your moment. He follows.

Din stews in anger, worry and regret.

Anger at Torre, as he’d watched him on the system vision move about you and take every excuse to touch you. Worry about the inbound smallcraft, detected on the scope moments after you’d dropped into the shield deck where comms were cut. Whatever that ship was, it wasn’t part of the plan.

And regret, a potent and searing regret that set in almost the second you’d turned away from him and marched off into the throws of the heist. It had doused him hard. Why had he done that? Accused you like that? Said all that after, to agree to partner with you, he’d made you share maybe your worst memory. Bare yourself to him. And it hadn’t even been to persuade him to let you work with him. He was already going to say yes. But he just wanted to know.

So he’d asked you. And you’d told him. And then he’d gone and used it to hurt you.

He wants to settle into mentally lashing himself but has to push it aside for now. Because this inbound craft is setting alarm bells to screaming in his mind and hot panic to washing through his body. He thinks he knows that beacon.

And he can’t fucking warn you because the treasury had obliterated comms with some kind of scramble set up around where the shields were housed. He’s not even sure you’ve noticed. Torre hadn’t told either of you that you’d lose channels on the shield deck, and Din had foolishly missed it, too clouded by rage and jealousy and… hurt.

It was R5 who’d spotted it. Too late to do anything about it though, and Din had thumped the console so hard the nervous droid had bleeped and whirred up a frenzy.

Now, he glares at the readings cascading around him, and decides.

He pulls up the ship holo on his vambrace. It’s not the live one, but he can still plot a direct line. Fuck any patrols he runs into. He has to get to you. Din lays down a litany of orders at the still chattering droid as he whirls from his chair and storms out of the cockpit.

You near your final door, ducking into a small alcove to await a passing patrol. By your own inner orientation, you’re roughly below and one corridor over from the first lock you’d passed. It’s taken forever but you’d met no company at all.

You’re almost impressed with Torre on this one. Then a hand lands on the small of your back and the impatience returns. You want this over. Want back on the Crest so you can apologise to Mando and tell him exactly how you feel, about everything.

The slap of several dozen boots echoes by. Quiet again, you move to the panel and get to work. Despite Torre’s claim you could do it sleeping, the procedure to circumvent the security is fiddly as shit.

Once you lightsaw into the doorplate, you have to find the surge protector unit – designed to accept any excess electrical load – and set your decoder keys to build your cypher. You have to watch both carefully at the same time, because once the surge opens, it is a matter of seconds to reroute the power flow and slip the interlocking latches over your fabricated code.

Then you wrench the lot free and it’s Torre’s job to jam a reseal protocol into the opening. It gives you three seconds to get through, before its locked tight again.

But you’d gotten quicker at it with the mandatory practice and it’s not taking long. You’re running the keys steadily, caught up in the sensation of mechanical parts moving to your will, when you hear an unexpected sound that makes your blood run cold.

Boots. Heavy, rapid boots thundering down a corridor to your right. Straight toward you. Torre hears it and swears.

He turns to you. ‘Shit, another patrol?’ his eyes are wild, uncontrolled. A different side of him. ‘We have to move!’

You don’t answer, trying to focus on getting this damn door open so you can escape whatever is about to barrel into your stowaway party.

‘Hurry up!’ he barks. It does not help. You drop your phase driver and swear.

‘Shut up,’ you say. But the sound of boots smacking the deck is getting closer and Torre is panicking next to you. He pulls a detonator from a pocket and readies it.

‘What the hells are you—’ you start right as he says, ‘Time’s up,’ and moves to toss it at the rear archway. With one hand still decoding the lock, you reach to grab it off him. But you’re too clumsy and, just as the lock gives way and the door clips open for its programmed few seconds, the bomb skitters to the side, beeps increasing.

Despite all that, you don’t duck through the door. Because in that moment the thundering footsteps round the corner – and it’s not a guard. You twist from your escape route and stare, hearing the lock engage again behind you and Torre cursing from the other side.

‘Fuck! Shit!’ Calling your name. But you’re lunging into the vicinity of the explosion.

‘Mando!’ you shout. ‘Look o—’ He’s barrelling into you, arms raised to your head, just as the hallway erupts.

Deafening and painful reverb knocks you senseless as you tumble in every conceivable direction. Battered from every side, you try to just tuck yourself inwards and wait for the blackness to wipe you out.

It all stops suddenly and through the ringing cacophony, you assess where you are at.

You’re flat on your back, legs akimbo and elbows tucked in, hands pressed into the hard surface above you. Through blurry vision, it looks to you like part of the ceiling has caved in. You take a second to wonder why you aren’t being crushed to death when a deep throb in your cunt snaps you into focus.

Mando is on top of you, arms braced by your head and whole body straining to hold up the debris across his back. Your hands are flat against his cuirass, legs spread around his hips, and your now pulsing centre is pressed directly into his groin.

His helmet is by your ear and you are assailed by harsh pants and grunts pouring into you. He shifts some and the applied pressure sparkles on your clit.

What the fuck is wrong with you? You blink hard and shake yourself, trying to focus on the direness of the situation and not on how good this feels. Trying to not writhe and press yourself into him. Mando grunts your name and you die a little.

He says it again and then, ‘Can you-- can you move?’

‘Uh-’ you wiggle a little, oh fuck it’s unbearable. You flex your feet and find a small bit of purchase. ‘Yeah, I think so.’

‘Can you slide out and push this off me? I- I can’t shift without it toppling further.’ He can’t possibly have a clue what he’s doing to you, because as he adjusts the bearing of his arms, he presses himself harder into the apex of your thighs. You can’t stop yourself and cry out, even whine a little. ‘Shit, are you hurt?’

‘A- ah, no, no, I don’t think so. It’s just, j-just so tight,’ you all but whimper.

‘I’m gonna try to lift some, then you move, okay?’ He’s making small movements again and you’re absolutely spare. ‘On three, okay?’

‘Okay, okay,’ you’re pressing your head into the solid floor and trying to will yourself out of this exquisite feeling. The man’s suffering, for gods’ sake. This is so wrong.

‘One, two… three!’ He bears down on you for one second and you grit your teeth as hard as you can as an unbidden but forceful orgasm rushes through you. You try to make your ‘Hhhnnnh,’ sound like the effort of moving.

As he lifts himself, you push and shimmy across the floor, wriggling up and up Mando’s body and feeling every single inch where you make contact sizzle with lust.

‘Good, you’re doing good,’ Mando is saying between heavy breaths and fuck you wish he’d stop. ‘Almost there.’

Sliding free, you pivot onto your knees and crouch low to get a shoulder under the panelling that had trapped the two of you.

‘On three again,’ you pant, sounding unnatural and husky to your own ears. You count in and heave upwards, your pleasure-frazzled body making a clumsy effort. But between the two of you, there’s enough give to let Mando scramble out. He gets free just as you drop the heavy weight. He orients himself and sits, facing away from you, to heave deep breaths.

He lays a hand on the floor and looks over his shoulder, ‘You okay?’

You, resting on your knees and heels, huff out a near crazed laugh.

‘Yeah,’ you say, unable to keep the panting from your response. ‘Thanks.’

You both take a moment to let your breathing even out, which bounces around the demolished corridor in a way you find intoxicating. You’re just closing your eyes to let it sink into you when reality floods back in.

‘Shit!’ you say, leaping to your feet. You lunge at the doorway Torre had vanished through. He’s gone, nothing on the other side but a silent passageway. ‘That fucker.’

Mando steps up behind you. ‘He’s the least of our problems,’ he mutters, right in your ear again.

You will yourself to calm down, turning to him. ‘What’s--?’

‘Another ship is docking, probably boarding by now,’ he says, moving to the side of the door and checking your handiwork. ‘How long will this last?’

‘Well,’ you say, motioning at the timer on your bracer. ‘It’s supposed to hold until we’re off this ship, but…’ you trail off, feeling lost and self-conscious as the plan falls apart.

But Mando is moving into action, he punches at his own wrist and the entire ship winks into existence across his forearm. You stare at it.

‘How did you…?’ you ask.

‘Downloaded it off Torre’s terminal while he was distracted,’ he says. The while flirting brazenly with you part goes unspoken.

You just mutter a small ‘nice,’ and move in to look at the map.

‘Here,’ you point. ‘We can circle back on this path and get to the vault.’ Mando’s head snaps up at you.

‘What?’ he hisses. ‘No, we are getting off this ship now.’ He swipes a hand across the map so it whizzes to the Crest, then marks it as a waypoint. He starts to move off but you grab his elbow. Electricity crackles against your palm and when he spins back to you, he’s so close again you can hear his breathing.

‘We’re so close,’ you say, unsure why you can’t let go of this mission. ‘This new ship doesn’t change the fact you have to get that beskar back. Does it?’ He stands rigid in front of you.

Confused by Mando’s indecision, you just try to look imploring. He takes you in. You know it’s completely impossible, but you feel like his face is softening. Into a tenderness. And a hunger. Like he’s drinking you down, taking all of you. It draws you back to what it felt like when you were underneath him.

It becomes too much, so you drop your gaze. ‘Please,’ you whisper. ‘We have to try, right?’

He seems to give in, lifts the ship map again. You realise you’re still gripping his elbow and let go so he can reset the waypoint.

‘This way, then,’ he says, moving with you.

Sprinting down the corridor, you can see the vault door wide open, jolting back and forth against an armoured guard’s crumpled body. You and Mando skid to a halt at the entrance and see Torre on his knees, shoving credits and precious metals into a satchel. He looks up.

‘Hey!’ he straightens, has the gall to look relieved. ‘You made it! Sweet. Hey, Mando.’

You move to lay into him but Mando shoves past you and, with a yelp from Torre, lifts your ex-heist partner by the lapels and shoves him into a row of lockboxes. Torre paws at his arms and kicks weakly before finding some composure.

‘Hey now, hey!’ he tries for purchase against the shelves, lifts himself some to avoid choking. ‘We can still finish this together – I have the code for the escape pods, remember?’

You step up beside the two of them, start nudging at the pockets you can reach on Torre.

‘I’m sure we can handle that ourselves,’ you say, enjoying yourself for a moment.

‘No! No, no, no,’ he pants. ‘Same deal- same deal at before, locked- to me, only me. Look!’ eyes to the side, ‘there’s your prize! I’ve got it all ready to go. Look!’ His knuckles are white against Mando’s armour and his eyes are rolling back.

But you and Mando look and see a satchel sitting open, the beskar bars stacked neatly inside.

You sneer. ‘You were gonna take it, weren’t y—’ You’re cut off by Mando dropping him to the ground. ‘What’re you?’ But you notice the urgent beeping of R5 coming from his vambrace. Mando checks it and twists to grab the satchel, throwing it over a shoulder.

‘Time to go,’ he commands.

You don’t question it, just follow, sensing Torre get to his feet, grab the loot and stumble after you.

With the timing thrown out and your path interrupted by Torre’s stupidity, there’s no choice but to confront a patrol to get to your escape.

As the three of you charge a squad of ten, you can’t help dropping a sarcastic ‘so much for fast and quiet,’ into Torre’s ear. He returns a shrug and smile, misreading your state.

‘Fun though?’ he says as he expertly grapples a stunned fighter and locks their airway before shoving them aside.

You roll your eyes, ducking into a forward tumble on the floor to twist up another solider at the knees with your feet, pushing the stumbling figure into Torre to execute the same move.

A rough hand on your shoulder yanks you up and you start for a second. But it lets go with a yelp. You turn to see Mando slamming the grabber into the wall so hard it leaves a dent there. He lifts the limp body and hurls it into two others.

You move to his back, pressing shoulder blades to cover his six while he douses the two stumbling figures with a gout of flame. A guard moves in to assault you with the sparking tip of his weapon and you reach your arms up, gripping Mando’s shoulders and lifting your feet. He braces you easily so you can plant one foot hard into the on-comer’s chest as the other toes at the weapon to force it into his face. His forward momentum and absolute surprise at the move lets the electric current catch him fully. He jolts and crumples.

Just as the body hits the deck, Torre ducks in and grabs the baton, taking it up and – with a flourish – landing it home in the centre mass of another assailant.

Mando shoves you around. Confused for a second, it evaporates as you hear the familiar sound of blaster fire glancing off beskar. You grab his arm to look around and see the three final squad members hunched in the edges of an archway, weapons free.

Mando backs you up, up, until you have cover.

‘Stay down for a sec, okay?’ he says. He waits for your nod. Then he turns back to the onslaught, tugging detonators off his belt. You spot a downed foe feet from you and risk a hasty scramble to take up its blaster, trying to lay down cover fire.

You notice Torre on the other side of your arch, doing the same thing. He glances at you with a ‘what’s his play?’ look but you just focus back on the stalking shape of Mando. He takes a ruthless amount of firepower before leaping forward, hurling the hot little devices into the feet of the enemy.

An ear-splitting bang fills the hall with smoke. You huddle for a second before a hand is at your shoulder, offering you an arm up. You take it and get to your feet, a quip on the tip of your tongue before you see it’s Torre holding your hand.

‘Nice,’ he huffs. ‘Quite the team, aren’t we?’

You tug your hand back just as Mando emerges from the smoke to step flush with the two of you.

‘We’re running out of time,’ he says.

‘Let’s go then,’ you say, laying a hand on his elbow as you move past. Mando reciprocates with a palm between your shoulders, where you’d leaned your weight into him mere moments before. He may as well be consuming your entire body.

You will the feeling aside for later and dash pass the three incinerated bodies.

It’s a few minutes of running and pivoting, following Mando’s barked commands of ‘left!’, ‘ahead!’, ‘third corridor!’ before you sense that you’re finally nearing the escape vessels.

‘Straight on, then right!’ he shouts.

Nearly out of here.

But you round the bend to find company waiting. Yet another troop stood staunch and ready.

Torre turns, ‘Shit! Where’s he gone!’

You look around and feel a flash of panic as you don’t see Mando. He’s no longer with you. He was here a second ago! Confused and distressed, you whip back to take in the eight menacing bodies of armour – half with blasters trained on you, the other half readying shock batons. With no choice, you raise your arms. Maybe you can buy some time t--

The Mandalorian strides around the corner at the opposite end of the passageway, taking them at the rear in the span of a heartbeat. All eight guards zero in on him like filings to a magnet. They’re barking orders and unleashing a hellish assault as Mando whips up a tempest.

And it’s like they’ve completely forgotten about you.

Before you can move, Torre grabs your arm and drags you to an escape hatch. The doors of each one are stood wide thanks to his programming. You wrench out of his grasp and shoot daggers at him, ‘What are you d--?'

‘Come with me!’ Torre holds out a hand with one foot inside the pod. Booty slung across his shoulder and blue eyes sparkling with his plea. In the flickering light he looks just like the boy you knew.

You look with panic to Mando, who is holding one guard in an elbow hold while another pummels his back and shoulders. He grunts and hurls the first, now limp, body into the others. He twists around to find where you are, spotting the scene of you standing next to Torre with his arm stretched toward you.

‘He’ll be fine, just come! Come now!’

It’s enough. The split second of distraction the sight brings is enough to let an attacker jam a shock prod into Mando’s side. He convulses and drops to a knee. A second jab with the rod and he slumps.

‘No!’ You sprint toward the skirmish, faintly hearing the hiss and click of the pod latch behind you. You slow only to tug a blaster out of a felled guard’s hand.

Mando is on his hands and knees and you use the clear path to land shots on two of them. As one body begins to drop you drive into it with all your force, scattering the three remaining who trip and stumble out of the way.

Scrambling to the disoriented form of your partner, you get an arm under his and heave him toward another hatch standing open, kicking the satchel of beskar ahead of you. The weight and strain pulls the muscles of your hip and sides, which all start screaming in protest. You’re about to collapse when that thing you fear grows inside you and pushes against the strain.

You let it, feeling the inhuman power drag you forwards.

Mando is through the door and shoved into a seat and the beskar is hurled in behind. All you have to do is throw yourself in there too and somehow get the latch closed—

A hard, metal arm hooks around your throat and drags you backwards. You try to grip the door jam but whatever created that furnace inside you has snuffed out and you flail in vain as you’re pulled from the pod.

In that one desperate second, you make a choice.

You grip the guard’s forearm and tighten it against your neck, throwing him off balance just enough to lift both feet in the air and slam a heel into the control panel, launching the pod. Through the stars that erupt across your vision, you briefly glimpse your Mandalorian sit up and lunge for the door, but it’s already falling away from the side of the ship.

A searing pain screams out of your shoulder, against your neck, and everything goes black.

He doesn’t even reach the door before the little emergency vessel lurches into an unstable spin and Din has to stagger back into the control seat, needing to push all thought of you aside. Not for long though.

Gripping the controls he strains against the torque, dangling precariously to the side for a second as the pod sways against the ignition thrusters. After a brief, stomach-churning struggle, he manages to nudge the thrust into stable motion.

He jams on the comms, the image of you being yanked away flooding back in.

‘R5, do you copy!’ he yells. The beep of binary comes back instantly.

‘I’m sending a vessel code. Find me and set its coordinates to the new rendezvous I’m transmitting now, then meet me there.’

Affirmative nonsense chirps back and Din feels the small craft’s momentum change from aimless plummeting to following a clear trajectory.

He collapses back and tries to settle his ragged breathing. His pounding heart. Nothing to do now but wait.

Din crashes into the tiny villa with ferocious intent, but he’s too late. The data table lies empty, the input panel smashed to smithers. Torre has already been here, and he’s made damn sure to cover his tracks. Din glances to the side and sees your final discarded meal, cold and congealing like so much desperation.

He gives himself one second to slam a fist into the wall. Then he notches the scanner on his visor and takes in the surroundings, stalking back into the street. The town is too busy to make out any genuine set of tracks. He could try to—

Wait. What is he doing anyway? He doesn’t want to find Torre. He needs to find you.

But that treasury, after an incursion like their heist, would have changed course by now. Its security protocols are taking it far out of Din’s reach. He could track it down eventually, but what would happen to you while he does that? What’s happening to you right now? He fights despair, feels it rising to drown him. With every passing second, he is less and less able to stop it.

He kicks himself. Just do something. Go get Grogu, that’s the first step. Do that and then figure out the next…

He thinks of his son. A wild, desperate idea comes to him and he sprints in the direction of the Crest.

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Yeah so I stole Din's moves from the show, but I figure they worked for him then, so why wouldn't he use them again?

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfic

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