#alien planets look like quarries and we need to accept that

[nostalgia-tblr]

This is the post in which I, a lifelong Dr Who fan, smugly point out that Marvel filmed an alien planet in a quarry.

(Not because they were wrong, but because we were right all along.)

#mcu tag i guess #quarries #and you've seen those NASA photos of the surface of Mars right? #alien planets look like quarries and we need to accept that #yet another way in which verity lambert was ahead of her time #when i first saw it was like '...okay that's a quarry' but i didn't actually check until now #a quarry makes a perfectly good alien planet and that's all there is to it #(especially if you have a filming budget of thruppence ha'penny) #(i love saying thruppence ha'penny) #dw

[sithsecrets]

rumors | din djarin x reader

A bit of gossip gets under your skin, but Din shows you that it's all a bunch of lies.

---

4k words

mentions: VERY EXPLICIT SMUT, fem!reader, a bit of harassment at the beginning, self-doubt, establishing a relationship, discussions about relationship dynamics, din tells reader his name

---

You know you’re in for trouble the minute two Guild Members sidle up next to you at the bar, shit-eating grins plastered on both of their faces.

They greet you and the baby with a kind of fake friendliness that makes your skin crawl, and not for the first time do you wonder what’s taking Mando and Greef so fucking long. The two men usually do business in under ten minutes, five if Mando can manage it, but of course today is the one day they decide to shoot the shit and pal around like old friends.

“So you’re Mando’s crew member, huh?” asks one of the bounty hunters, light eyes glinting mischievously as he leans in. “What’s he paying you these days anyway? Because I’d be happy to double his rate if it meant getting to have something as pretty as you around me all the time.”

“Ten percent,” you answer, choosing to ignore that last little comment, “and I’m perfectly okay with that.”

“That’s not bad,” Blue Eyes’ friend answers, brushing back a lock of his greasy hair with a smirk. “But what does that fee cover? You just a nanny for whatever the fuck that is,” he gestures to the Child in your lap, “or do you provide Mando with other services as well?”

On your left, Blue Eyes lets out a snicker, and Stringy Hair seems pleased with himself. You huff and roll your eyes, not at all in the mood for this shit.

“I take care of the baby and the ship, and I pilot the Crest from time to time.”

“You hear that, man? She’s a pilot and a maid!”

“Three guesses as to what she gives a good spit shine every night,” and then the two of them are absolutely cracking up, snickering behind their glasses as they toss back a round. They’re just mocking you now, so desperately trying to get a reaction, and you’re horrified by how it’s almost working. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction, but if they so much as—

“Everything alright over here?”

Mando’s voice is like a bucket of cold water down your back, startling you so badly that you almost fall off your barstool. The baby lets out a shriek of surprise, and you rush to make sure he’s secure in your arms before you turn around.

“Just fine,” you lie, rushing to get up. “We were just talking about your latest bounty.”

Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes don’t move to correct you, much more subdued now that Mando’s arrived on the scene. They greet him with respect, but he hardly gives the two dickheads a passing glance.

“We need to get back,” Mando tells you, and you’ve never been so glad to hear those words.

You nod, and then the three of you are trekking back to the Crest in silence. Mando goes up the cockpit immediately once you arrive, off to punch in the coordinates for his next quarry. Apparently Greef’s given him some kind of special assignment, so they journey to the next planet will be a long one.

The Crest lurches into hyperspace within minutes of takeoff, and you try to settle in for the evening, putting the baby down for the night, getting ready for bed yourself. The Child sleeps like a rock, but you aren’t so fortunate, tossing and turning in your little bed. It’s the conversation with those two assholes from earlier that’s got you so restless, their words playing over and over again in your head on loop. You don’t know why what they said bothers you, but it does. It bothers you a lot, in fact, mostly because they weren’t entirely wrong.

Everything you told Blue Eyes and Stringy Hair is true— Mando cuts you in ten percent on his bounties, and in exchange, you take care of the baby, maintain the ship (its living spaces and its mechanics, thank you very much), and you pilot the Crest from time to time when asked. But… But you’ve also fucked Mando before. Twice. Three times if you count the blowjob you gave him last week, but you’re not entirely sure that fits under the definition of “fucking.” Regardless of the details, you’ve had sexual contact with the Mandalorian— this is a fact. Mando’s never directly offered you money in return for sex, but it’s not like he didn’t just pay you your cut of his bounty less than an hour ago. And if those two pigs from the cantina could peg you at fifty yards, Maker knows what everybody else is thinking. Greef, Cara, even Peli on Tatooine— all of them must think you’re just Mando’s whore, right along with the rest of the Guild.

The idea of this weighs heavy on your mind, two parts of you waging an internal war. Your rational side says that you shouldn’t care what other people think of you— you’re a grown woman approaching thirty, and what you do with your body and your time is no one’s business but your own. The side of you that yearns to be accepted, however, worries that everyone’s secretly laughing at your behind your back, that they all think very little of you because of what you’ve done. And how could you blame them? You’ve let your employer fuck you twice, and all without him showing you an ounce of affection otherwise. Just thinking about it makes you feel remorseful, anxiety twisting in your stomach as you toss and turn in bed. And to make things worse, a third voice emerges in your mind, one that’s small and timid and raw. This little part of you wonders what Mando thinks of all this— it wonders what Mando thinks of you. You feel sick the minute it occurs to you, the notion that Mando could think nothing of you as well. Everyone else can say whatever they want, you suppose, if Mando still respects you at the end of the day. If he still cares for you at the end of the day…

After a whole hour, you decide that you won’t be sleeping until you get all of this sorted out. You’re almost shaking with anxiety as you approach the ladder, but you climb up to the cockpit anyway, calling out Mando’s name with a wavering voice. He says you can come in, and so you do, padding into the little space on socked feet.

“Everything okay?” Mando asks, vaguely distracted as he looks through holoimages on the display before him. You catch snatches of the same alien being in each one— Mando’s next quarry, no doubt.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “The baby’s asleep. He went down well tonight.”

Mando hums. “Good.”

“I, um. I’m having trouble sleeping, though, and I was hoping we could talk.”

Mando doesn’t look away from the holoimages as he speaks to you. “What about?”

You balk for a moment, gathering courage. “Us.”

Finally, it would seem you have Mando’s full attention. He shuts off the display and turns his chair until it faces you, the blue light of hyperspace reflecting off his armor and helmet. You grow shy under Mando’s gaze as you so often do, but you force yourself to be brave anyway. You can’t go on like this— you have to know.

“Us?” Mando echoes, titling his helmet just the slightest bit forward. You nod, and he straightens up again, regarding you. “What about us?”

“The sex,” you say slowly, “or, more specifically, why we had sex in the first place.”

“We had sex because we wanted to,” Mando says at once, and you just want to scream. He won’t make this easy on you, will he?

“Right, of course, but… but what made you want to come at me like that? Do you just like my body and how I look, or is it because you pay me—?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mando cuts, losing all semblance of cool indifference in one fell swoop, “you don’t— Please don’t tell me that you think having sex with me is part of your job.”

“I don’t, I don’t!” you declare, rushing to prevent a miscommunication before it happens. “I just— I just wasn’t sure why you wanted me of all people, and I met some people today that thought you hired me just so you could fuck me or whatever. They—”

“Was it those two fuckheads from the cantina?” Mando asks, tone absolutely murderous, and all you can do is nod. “What exactly did they say?”

“They asked me about my pay and about what’s ‘included in my fee,’” you reply, face burning at the thought of what Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes said at the bar. “They said you were probably paying me for sex the way you pay me to take care of the ship and the baby. It just… It made me self-conscious because we have had sex, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. I know they’re just assholes, but now I’m afraid everybody thinks that of me, especially Cara and Greef and your other friends.”

Mando lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you over with an outstretched hand. You hesitate to move, shocked by the gesture, and the Mandalorian repeats himself. “Come here, cyar’ika, please.”

The beskar is cold against the back of your thighs, but you settle in Mando’s lap anyway, sure you must be dreaming at this point. He fingers the hem of your long, baggy sleepshirt, one arm holding you securely.

“None of my friends think you’re fucking me for money,” Mando begins, “I promise. Those guys from the Guild you met today, they’re assholes just like you said. They might treat their women that way, but that’s not me. It never will be. Understand?”

You nod shyly, relishing in the way Mando begins drawing little circles at the base of your spine.

“Good. Now to answer your question… I had sex with you because I wanted to, yes, but it wasn’t just to get off. The baby likes you, and you do a good job taking care of the ship. People like you wherever we go… Ilike being around you.”

You’re smart enough to know that that’s a big statement coming from a man like Mando, and you reward him for this display of vulnerability with a soft smile.

“I like being around you too, Mando.”

The helmet tilts just the slightest bit, and you wonder what his expression looks like under the beskar.

“I like being around you,” Mando repeats, speaking slowly, “and… and I’m sorry. For starting like that, I mean.”

Your brows draw together. “What are you talking about?”

Mando readjusts his grip on your, and the way his hand settles over the curve of your thigh is enough to make you shiver. “I should have taken my time with you. Fucking you against the wall, bending you over those crates in the back— that’s fine sometimes, but you deserve more.”

“If that’s how you like it, I don’t—”

He cuts you off then, a gloved thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I don’t care about me right now,” Mando says evenly, the tone of his voice picking at something deep in your stomach. “What do you want?”

It dawns on you then that this is foreplay— Mando’s decided he wants to fuck you again— and that makes your face hotter than fire itself. You know he’s waiting for an answer, so you decide to speak freely, the consequences of your words be damned.

“I want you to fuck me in bed,” you say slowly, whispering more than you’re talking. “With your gloves off. That’s not against the rules, right? You took them off the other day in front of me and Cara—”

“It’s not, mesh’la,” Mando affirms, the strange word dripping off his tongue like honey. You wonder what it means, though you don’t have the nerve to ask. “Go down to the hull and make us a space on the floor. I’ll be there in a minute.”

---

The darkness is disorienting, the blackness so black that you couldn’t see your own hand if it was two inches in front of your face. That’s by design, though, because none of this would be okay if you couldsee.

You had exactly two conditions earlier in the cockpit: in bed, no gloves. But it would seem that Mando had so much more in mind when he told you to come down here, and it’s anything beyond what you could have ever dreamed of. You’ve imagined this situation before, thought about what it might be like to know Mando this way, but to have it happen…

The beskar clangs softly as Mando lays it down, the sound letting you know that he’s somewhere off to your right. You’re sure he’s having no trouble seeing in the dark, given how many settings there on in his visor, but you can’t see a fucking thing. Not him, not his discarded armor, not even your own hand in front of you face. Under any other circumstance, you’d be afraid of the dark, but not now. No, now you simply tremble with anxiety, naked skin prickling with chills as you wait for Mando to undress himself. He stripped you first, of course, when the lights were still on, took his time and peeled your clothes off of you almost with reverence. You wish you could do the same to him, but something about that would be wrong you think— it would be crossing a line.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” you ask, almost whispering. The baby’s upstairs in the cockpit, dead to the world and tucked safely in his pram, and yet you still feel like you’re being too loud. Hyperspace is always so quiet, and the silence sets your teeth on edge even after all this time.

“Can you see me?” Mando asks, voice still filtered and staticky.

“I can’t even see myself,” you counter.

“Then it’s allowed.”

No more words pass between either of you for a moment, the space filled with the sound of clothes rustling. You hear a belt buckle and a zipper, can trace out the sounds of pants being kicked to the floor… Three short, bare footsteps, and then you aren’t alone on your little pallet anymore, Mando presence warm and undeniable close on the other side of the cushions.

“Cyar’ika.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the circumstances, or the fact that Mando speaks to you with a raw, unfiltered voice, but this one word picks at something inside you, gets you hot and needy where it counts. How many people has he laid down with like this? How many of them have heard Mando’s voice, his real voice, if any at all? You don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but you also don’t care, not right now.

“Can I touch you?” you ask softly, mustering all your strength and bravery. Mando doesn’t response, doesn’t so much as let out a breath, and so you jump when you feel his hand on your own. He guides you across the blankets, pulling you in closer, laying your palm on the warm, solid expanse of his forearm. Your fingers curl around it, squeezing the muscle, admiring the way Mando simply feels under your hands. He’s had so much of you— practically your whole body— and yet all you’ve been blessed with until tonight is the warmth of his hands, the feeling of his cock in you and on you. To feel his bare skin like this is strange, the fact that Mando is really and truly human coming into sharp focus as your fingers run along a scar, the hair on his arms…

“You’re handsome,” you declare, awed by feeling of Mando under your palms. He shudders when you lay your hand on the side of his face, the movement almost flinch-like in nature, but you’re quick to soothe his nerves with a gentle stroke of your thumb. You can’t imagine what this is like for Mando, can’t fathom what it must feel like to be touched when you hide yourself from everyone all the time. It’s in this moment that you realize he knows nothing of the sun or the wind, and your heart breaks for him.

“You wouldn’t say that if the lights were on.”

Mando sounds vaguely nervous now himself, voice more subdued than it was before. You have so much you want to say, want to shout out that you love everything about him and his body and your life together, but you that would be too much. No, doing something like that could ruin all of this in one fell swoop, and so you swallow those words down, replacing them with something else instead.

“If I ever get to see you one day,” you tell him, “I know for a fact that I’ll say the same thing. I promise.”

There’s a strange weight in that, a certain trust and understanding that you can’t put your finger on, but the pressure isn’t uncomfortable as it settles in the atmosphere, pressing you and Mando even closer. He pulls you under him without a word, holding you, twining your arms and legs and hands together until you aren’t sure where yours end and his begin. His kisses are tentative and unpracticed, but you feel the passion regardless, sighing as the press of Mando’s mouth tells you all the things he can’t say out loud. You don’t know how you ever got things twisted, aren’t sure how you could have possibly thought that Mando didn’t care for you because these aren’t the kisses and caresses of a man who sees you as little more than something to fuck. No, this is something else entirely, something better than you ever could have hoped for, and the rush of endorphins as your head swimming.

Your entire body arches when Mando begins to crawl down your body, his lips trailing over your neck and chest, your stomach and even the curve of your hip. “Mesh’la,” he says to you, murmuring into the spaces between your fingers. Mando’s paying particular attention to your hands now, kissing them delicately. “Listen to me, please.”

“Yes?” you say, half moaning as he drops your hand in favor of propping your legs open. The anticipation has you dizzy, brain fogged over completely as you wait, as you feel him line up your bodies—

Mando doesn’t say anything, not for several seconds, too distracted by the feel of you to speak. You’re fine with that, already too far gone to care after what, two, three thrusts? You couldn’t keep count if you wanted to, the haze in your brain too thick for any tedious mental activity to penetrate. Still, you try to listen like he asked, try to understand the words coming out of his mouth.

Mando’s voice is strained and low, but you catch everything regardless. “My name is Din,” he says to you, groaning shortly when you wind your fingers in his hair. “You can’t— You can’t say that in front of anyone, only to me and the baby. But that’s my name. I want you to call me by my name.”

“Anything you want, Din,” you say at once, and Maker does that have him swearing. Din does something with your body— opens your legs or lifts up your hips, something— and you see stars, whining brokenly. Not for the first time do you wish you could see his face or the plane of his back as he fucks you, but you have to admit that you’re glad that Din’s blind in all of this as well. You don’t even want to think about what you look like, how ruined and desperate your face must be. The pace is relentless now, and you find yourself struggling to keep up, keening and moaning and taking it until Din’s talking to you again.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and you don’t understand.

“What?” you ask, breathless yourself. He hasn’t let up once since the two of you began, and even though you haven’t cum once, you already feel like you’re on another plane of existence.

“I’m sorry I never—” Din groans, adjusting his grip on your body. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at all of this shit. Talking and letting go and all the other stuff normal people do. I shouldn’t— You deserve more than that. I’m so sorry, cyar’ika.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” you tell him, holding fast to his shoulders, his arms, anything you can get your hands on. You don’t know how to tell him that all this is more than enough to make up for everything, that there’s hardly anything to make up for as it is.

“Yes, there is,” Din presses, and you know he wants to say more, but you cut him off before he can continue.

“Make me cum and kiss me while you do it,” you say to him, “and we’ll call it even.”

And Din seems more than happy to accept the deal, his fingers on your clit not three seconds after you’re done talking. You cum almost too fast, blindsided by your orgasm despite the fact that it’s been building for what feels like years now. Din’s not far behind you, asking whether or not he can cum inside you, and you tell him no, not this time. You have a long-term implant, but you it hasn’t been looked at by a medic in well over a year. It’s probably fine, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. And anyway, it’s not like the feeling of Din’s cum painting your stomach and chest isn’t incredibly hot, so you’re by no means complaining as you lie there and listen to him jerk himself off, your name falling from his lips.

“Stay here,” Din tells you, speaking gently even as he works to catch his breath. You miss him the second he’s gone, your ears straining to track his movements in the dark. Careful footsteps, the shuffling of blankets, the click of the light in the ‘fresher— you can’t see Din, not from this angle, but the idea that he even trusts you enough to cut a light on at a time like this has your heart pounding. He’s completely exposed in there, helmet still sitting next to his armor across the hull, and you almost close your eyes on reflex as you listen to the water run. But it’s all for nothing because Din tells you to do it anyway, turning off the faucet and stepping out into the hull again after you say that you’ve done as he asked.

The washcloth Din cleans you with is warm, a fact that’s not lost on you as you lie there in the semi-darkness. He’s quiet, but the delicate, precise nature of Din’s work speaks volumes. You want to ask him if this is something he does for everyone he sleeps with, but you keep your mouth shut, thinking a question like that might ruin the mood. He goes away from you again once your stomach’s clean, cutting off the light in the ‘fresher and discarding the rag all while you keep your eyes closed. It’s not until Din’s back in bed beside you that you dare to so much as crack them open, afraid you might glimpse too much if you move any sooner.

“Thank you,” you murmur. You’re not sure if you’re thanking Din for the sex or for cleaning you up, but it’s probably a bit of both.

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika,” he replies, pulling you in close. “Are you tired?”

You don’t speak for a moment, thinking of how hard it is to keep your eyes open now, how your thighs ache and your body yearns for rest. “Yeah.”

“Sleep, then,” Din tells you, and you almost feel pathetic for clinging to him like a child. Almost.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

You aren’t sure why you’re asking— it’s not like Din has anywhere else to go— but his answer is important to you regardless.

“Right here, mesh’la,” he tells you, sounding tired now himself. “I promise.”

#my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction

[buckybarnesbabydoll]

Lost and Found: Chapter 2

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warning(s): none <3

Word count: 2,000+

Summary: You teach the Mandalorian how to ride a blurrg, and you have a strange dream after he's gone...

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Note(s): i hope you guys enjoy this next part! i'm new to writing fanfics so pls go easy on me <3 I might try to make this a little bit of a slow burn fic too, also this part is now posted on my ao3!

The following day, you stood behind the ropes of the circle where you tame blurrgs. The Mandalorian has been trying to ride the same blurrg that attacked him the day before. He’s been trying since early morning and judging by the placement of the sun, as well as his groans in frustration, he hasn’t made a lot of progress. Kuiil was watching from inside the tent for a little bit, before leaving the rest to you so he could work on another one of his projects. You had your hood pulled over your head to keep the sun from beating down on you, leaning on one of the poles while you watched this hopeless lesson.

One arm resting on the wooden cylinder, while the other absentmindedly fiddled with the necklace you had on. It was a simple leather rope that was wrapped around a crystal. You found it interesting how that crystal became your favorite color, or perhaps your favorite color was because of the crystal. The only thing you knew about it was that you’ve had it since you were a baby, never being away from it. Even taking it off for a second made you feel vulnerable. At this point it was a part of you, the only thing binding you to your past, which was still muddled in smoke and mirrors.

Hearing the blurrg squawk and growl brought you back to the mess in front of you. You tried teaching the Mandalorian the same way Kuiil showed you how to ride, but now you’re learning that maybe everyone learns a little differently… It wasn’t that he wasn’t able to mount the creature, it’s that it wouldn’t let him stay on. Throwing him off at any attempt or scurrying away to different parts of the circle, it’s been a bit of a goose chase to watch. You couldn’t blame it though, he did try to burn it alive, or so that’s what Kuiil told you when he found the Mandalorian. But you had to admit, seeing a Mandalorian, who were revered for their strength in battle, get thrown around like a ragdoll was a little funny.

After getting bucked off into the dirt for the umpteenth time that day, the armored man exclaimed a ‘Dank Farrik!’ and stood up. Almost stomping towards you in a fed-up cadence with his arms swinging from irritation. You could almost perfectly imagine his expression underneath that helmet.

“Alright, this isn’t working. Do you have a speeder bike or anything else I can use to get there? I’ll pay you,” the modulation didn’t hide any of his feelings either, you bit your lip to keep from chuckling at his suffering.

“Sorry, we don’t have anything like that,” you swore he rolled his eyes under that helmet, unable to believe there wasn’t any other form of transportation besides those oversized land piranhas. “Perhaps try approaching it more… gently.” The silver helmet looked at you again, a brief silence before repeating you.

“Gently?” There was a slightly incredulous tone to the question. He’s been trying almost every method all morning, sowhywasn’tanythingworking.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “your methods are too blunt for it. It’s scared,” you gestured to the blurrg that was pacing on the other side of the circle.

“Scared of what? It attacked me,” you shrugged in response, looking at the distorted reflection of yourself on the beskar.

“At least try and approach more passively.” He sighed, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to try it your way. It was something different after trying forever. The Mandalorian moved closer to the blurrg, holding up his hands with his palms facing towards the creature. The blurrg started to act anxious again, watching his movements. But he gently shushed the creature, displaying his body language as less threatening as he scooted closer.

As the blurrg seemed to further relax, he quickly grabbed the reins and got up on its back again. You held your breath as you watched him climb up, and as the moments passed the creature seemed to start walking around like normal again. You cheered a little bit, since this was the first time you’ve taught someone how to ride a blurrg, you weren’t exactly sure how it was going to turn out. Fortunately, your first (and hopefully, last) attempt at teaching was a success. Thankfully, he didn’t die!

“Alright! Now let’s get you to your bounty!”

After the success of the Mandalorian learning how to ride a blurrg, you promptly hopped on yours to guide the way, where his bounty was waiting for him. You rode through the desert planet, hopping over fissures in the ground and riding across large swaths of cracked mud. You found it sort of fascinating how the cracks sometimes appeared hexagonal, how something so monotonous could be interesting to you, you’d never know. Again, it was hard to find a lot interesting on this desert planet. Your mind drifted off to different places on your ride there since the bounty hunter you were guiding was a man of few words. Well, at least when he wasn’t frustrated. You didn’t know a whole lot about Mandalorians, but you were sure you’d probably never know since he’s most likely going to die trying to get his bounty. They always did.

You rode up to the location of the Mandalorian’s bounty, the spot used to be a small town where you would visit and play in the fountain in the middle. Once a month there used to be different festivals for the various alien cultures that lived there filled with music and life. You’d walk around to the colorful vendors full of tasty food and pretty trinkets, always asking Kuiil for something from them. You didn’t have a whole lot, so those days he would always spoil you sick with anything you wanted. The resurfaced memory is fuzzy and warm, but things have changed now since it was taken over by raiders and pirates. It was never the same and it hurt to see something that special be ruined so quickly.

“This is it, whatever you’re looking for, it’s in there,” you tilted your head in the direction of the town. Or at least what was left of it. The Mandalorian took out his fob, holding it in the direction of the abandoned town. The quiet beeping increased over the ride to the spot, showing you had taken him to the right place.

“Thank you,” he said, nodding to you. You glanced over and noticed he was handing out a small pouch to you, but you shook your head in rejection. “Please, you’ve helped me a lot.” He reinforced the statement by urging the pouch your way again. The offer was nice, you’ve never encountered a bounty hunter quite like this one.

“That’s kind of you, but the only payment I need is seeing this area cleaned out of them,” you looked back at the territory a little solemnly. “Things… haven’t been the same since they arrived, but no one has managed to get rid of them yet.”

“...Then why help me?” He folded one hand over his wrist, holding the reins in the lower hand. It made sense why you were so patient to help him out, perhaps this place meant more to you than he knew. You paused to consider your answer.

“I’ve never met a Mandalorian, I’ve only lived here my entire life so all I know is the stories my father told me,” you mused, “if they’re correct, then this shouldn’t be too hard for you.” You start turning the blurrg before pausing, a hint of amusement on your face, “Not to mention, it was fun seeing you get bullied by that blurrg. Good luck!” You giggled to yourself, riding away as he shook his head. His face was definitely burning just a little bit from the memory of that display.

You took your time riding back, the Mandalorian still on your mind. Even though you got a ways away, the sound of blasters being shot reached you. Taking a minute to listen, it took a little bit before it went quiet again. That’s how it usually was, you’d bring them to the quarry, they would go off and get in a shootout, and you’d never see them again. You sighed, shaking your head. You wanted to have hope for the Mandalorian, but hopefulness won’t keep him from getting killed by a blaster shot.

“Well, at least now I know I can teach the next one how to ride a blurrg,” you shrugged to yourself, riding off back home. As you rode away into the desert, in the dust of an ended firefight the Mandalorian stood, gazing down at a small, green child in a floating pram. A child that would change both of your lives.

You arrived back home a little before nightfall, leading your blurrg back into her area before closing it off again. You pulled your hood off and sighed as the cool air drifted through your hair, the cool breeze felt nice on your scalp. Kuiil walked over to the entrance of the tent, holding two containers of water in his hand.

“Do you think this is the one?” You glanced over at your adoptive father, taking a drink he offers to you.

“I am not sure, we will find out in a few days,” he tilted his head to the side in uncertainty. “Do you think this is the one?” You shrugged at the question, taking a swig from the container. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to make it, but with no one else making it back it was kind of hard to think anything else except that. “I’d like to think so. It would be cool to say I know a Mandalorian that didn’t immediately die after meeting him,” the Ugnaught snorted at your reasoning. “And… I don’t know, he just seems.. different. I don’t know if I can explain it.” Perhaps it was the slowly increasing need for change in your life, but you knew what you felt.

At least that’s what you thought.

The rest of the evening passed by without anything else eventful happening, but before you went to sleep you found yourself still wondering what happened to the Mandalorian. Perhaps he was dead, but oh well. You’d get your answer in a few days. Accepting the fate of your brief acquaintance, you let your eyes close and peacefully drifted off to sleep. You dreamt of the desert, the imagery moving over the sand to the location of the small town you used to frequent as a child. However, it wasn’t the nostalgic memory you were used to, it simply showed the current state of the town. But the movement didn’t stop there, you were slowly guided through the town, the echoes of laughter and cheer, of your childhood, bounced around until you entered the main building.

It was dark inside, the only source of light was the sun pouring in from the windows and entrances. Your heart wanted to wander around, to relive those fond memories. Relive moments when you weren’t worried about bounty hunters or mercenaries coming through your home and making you feel a little more on edge. But something drew you away from those thoughts. There was the slight tugging in the back of your mind, almost like a small string pulling you in a different direction until you saw what could be the source. You apprehensively approach a white, spherical floating object. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought it was a baby pram. Until it popped open, showing two green ears poking out from underneath.

You tilted your head in wonder, seeing something small start to peek out from underneath the blanket it was in. But you couldn’t get a good look at it, the face was blurred for some reason. It all felt… foggy. Despite the low visibility, you felt your hand lift a little to hold your finger out towards the small thing, wiggling it a little bit. It reached out a three-clawed hand at you, right as its hand wrapped around your finger, you woke up.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #mando #mandalorian #pedro pascal #the child #baby yoda #grogu #star wars #mando x reader #the force #fanfiction #fanfic #slow burn #the mandalorian x jedi! reader

[asclepius-erebus]

Nevarro

Title: Personal Eden (Ongoing)

Chapter 3: Nevarro

Rating: Mature (17+)

Word Count: 4.3k

TW: mentions of abuse (lmk if I should include any more!)

The next day, as anticipated, you land on Nevarro, where upon disembarking a flurry of droids scurry up to the ship.

“Hey!” Mando yells, paralyzing all the droids, “No droids!”

You learn that the baby is not in fact Mando’s, but a foundling he’d taken up first as a quarry but then adopted. You’re not sure what’s so special about this child, but for it to have a bounty over it’s head before it can intelligibly speak seemed cruel enough, and you don’t ask any further questions.

You also learned that Mando is a man of few words. He tends to keep his responses curt and to-the-point; and never straying away from the subject of conversation. From your observation, he has not gone onto tangents or disclosed any new information, willingly, that did not immediately pertain to the topic. It made it even more difficult for you to learn anything new about him, his character, humors, and appearance. He is a complete mystery, and yet you find him fascinating all the while he continues to intimidate with both his outward appearance, and lack of openness.

The day on Nevarro is grey despite the sky being totally clear. The landscape isn’t strikingly beautiful like some of the other planets you’ve been on with Malsifer. It’s gritty, dusty, and terribly suffocating. The air feels dense and warm, that kind that made you feel sticky and uncomfortable. The sky is a dull blue, but blue nontheless.

Since joining Mando on his ship, he’d allowed you the time to wash off the caked on makeup from the other night, some of which you’d cried off, like your ruby red lips. It was a nice color, you were fond of how well it complimented your skin and the shape of your lips- but it had overstayed its time on your face and it was time for it to go.

However, upon stepping onto the rough planet, you realize how out of place you appear to be. Not only is the green alien child perched on your hip and babbling to himself, but you’re still dressed in what Mando had rescued you in a few days ago. The wispy fabrics fluttered in the subtle warm breezes, carrying with them the muted but bright colors of an oceanside sunset of lavender, magenta, and gold. You felt exposed among the muted and dark colors that Mando and his child limited themselves to, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Mando’s child begins to fuss, deciding that he wanted to meander around in the dirt as Mando took a few steps towards an unfamiliar man. The man is of a darker complexion, though his beard and hair suggests he is of a wiser age, and extended a friendly hand to shake. They must already know each other.  

The child giggles and laughs, grasping and tossing any rocks he finds on the ground. You crouch to his level, structuring his play by tossing him back the rocks he’d thrown. From this, he giggles excitedly.

~~

“Greef.” Mando greets the aging man, Greef Karga, approaching him at the opening to the city, densely lined with clay houses and open markets. It teems with a unique variety of inhabitants and passersby- like Mando, who does not stand out in the crowd as obviously as the brightly colored dresses his new acquaintance was dressed in. That, was something he’d address soon enough.

“Mando.” Greef smiles, eyes lighting up upon seeing the familiar helmet, “How are you old friend?”

Mando looks over his shoulder at his companions before returning his attention to Greef, “Surprised to be back. What are you doing out here?” He asks with a tired sigh.

Greef raises an inquisitive eyebrow, “I’m just as surprised to see you out here… Tying up a few loose ends. Who’s your new friend?”

Mando hooks his gloved fingers at the top of his chest plate, resting his arms casually over himself and relieving some of the weight of the Beskar on his shoulders, “That’s who I’m here to find some information about. She’s one of Malsifer’s.”

“Malsifer?” Greef’s eyes widen, “What is she? A quarry?”

Mando’s helmet shakes, “No, Malsifer was. Malsifer had an indentured servant situation and I need to know more about her… Anything would be useful, but especially any bank records.” Mando says quietly, sliding a small note with the name of his newest crewmate scribbled onto it.

Greef looks down at the note inquisitively, “Malsifer, huh? Doesn’t surprise me… He always rubbed me the wrong way… Though I’m not surprised that his luck, or lack of it, finally caught up to him.”

“She’s got no where to go. Is there any way you can find out anything about her that’s useful…?”

Greef looks between Mando and the cooing child and woman behind him, and then down at the name on the note, “Get back to me in an hour or two.”

~~

Mando turns to wave yourself and the baby to his side, the man with whom he was conversing with turning away and headed into the city.

“What was that about?” You ask, the baby occupying itself with a metal ball he’s produced from his bundle of clothing.

“Business.” He says briefly.

Business. You think to yourself, the most colorful response I’ve gotten since I boarded.

With the baby balanced on your hip, Mando navigates you both through the streets of a busy marketplace. Vendors line the streets and advertise their products and produce, crafts, and other items for sale, all ranging in complexity and beauty that you admire from a distance. The baby on your hip is thoroughly entertained with all the sights, sounds, and colors, teething on a pastry he managed to swipe off a vendor when they weren’t looking.

Of course you attract some attention. Not only did it not help that the baby you tote clearly is not yours, but your impractical and fluttering dresses had other passerby step and trip on them as you went- sending you a few gross side-eyes and raised eyebrows. You clutch what you can in your hands as you follow Mando’s glistening helmet through the crowd.

He approaches a stand fluttering with colorful fabrics, handcrafted designs embroidered to the hems of cloaks, dresses, and shirts. They’re all so pretty and wonderful to look at.

Mando begins a conversation with a middle aged woman at the stand in her native language, her weathered face and dark eyes glancing at you from time to time as Mando continues to explain something to her. She raises her hand and counts on her fingers as she explains something to him in response, Mando filling her palm with a few coins. Pleased, she nods and produces a neatly folded up wad of fabric. She extends it towards you with a forced but friendly smile.

“Something to cover yourself with for now…” Mando explains, “Later, on the ship, I can find you some clothes.”

Accepting the folded fabric, you briefly study its particular shade of purple. It’s dark and neutral, almost barely detectably purple should someone care enough and stare long enough at you. You unfold it to find an opening, and you slip it over your head, a hood catching on you as the rest of the fabric settles on your shoulders and over your torso. The baby gets caught in it too, but frees himself with a shake of his enormous head. It is a cloak, the fabric feeling pleasurably heavy on your figure and comfortable on your bare shoulders. It feels protective and warm, but breathable and completely functional as an everyday garment. Not only does it feel well, but it conceals you much better amongst everyone else.  

“I buy my cloaks off her.” Mando responds simply, the first time he’s shared a new fact about himself, “She’s also going to find you a pair of shoes.”

He’s right. Perhaps the pair of sandals tied at your ankles aren’t the best fit for a shoe to be blundering around planets with. It was certainly enough for the occasions you accompanied Malsifer to meeting his clients, and the extent of your time out in the elements was limited to barely nothing. Malsifer concerned himself more with whether you appeared to his liking and aesthetics.

The older woman returns, producing a short pair of dark brown leather boots of a matte finish. They are simple and easy to slip on, with no intricate buckles, zippers, or ties. They hug your feet comfortably and accomplishes all the criteria necessary for being a practical piece of footwear.

Mando glances around and hands the woman a few extra coins, nodding in thanks as she accepts them and waves kindly at the child on your hip.

“Thank you.” You tell Mando as the three of you walk away from the stand of fluttering fabrics. He doesn’t react, at least as far as you can observe from the faceless helmet that you looked at when speaking to him.

“We have some time before we meet up with Greef again.” Mando says, ignoring what you’d said, “We can-“

“-Take a look around.” You interrupt, your curiosity about the rest of the market piqued. Surely there were other useful and interesting things the three of you can look at other than the four metal walls of Mando’s ship.

Mando agrees, but you’re not necessarily sure if it was from acquiescence or genuine concurrence.

It is difficult to read him, you’ve noticed it bothering you, without any facial expressions and other visual cues to clue you into his mood. His body language was often also very grey and difficult to deduce. This is unlike what you’ve relied on in the past to understand and predict other people’s behaviors. Malsifer was an individual very prone to giving himself way via his expressions and tone of voice, which made it easier to clue you into how you should respond, if at all. It’s natural to rely on social cues in order to know how to respond to a given situation, but with Mando, it feels quite the contrary.

He strolls with you at a relaxed pace, his hand firmly placed on the hilt of his blaster he keeps attached to his waist.  

Your eyes flicker between his helmet and his hand. You’d seen him use his blaster with deadly precision, it drove you to tears to see the barrel trained at the space between your eyes. You hadn’t heard of stormtroopers being as accurate, and you question what he is, and what he represents. You can already deduce that he’s a bounty hunter, why else would he be looking for quarry? But why the child? Why the armor? And why the ship you’d finally observed to be very Old Republic.

“Mando-“ You begin to ask curiously…“Can I ask you a question?”… cautiously.

“Sure.” He says simply, his helmet turning to observe a long blaster rifle on display at a vendor.

“Where are you from?”

Mando’s helmet continues to follow the long rifle as he walks away, “No where. I was a foundling.”

“A foundling from where?” You ask again. “Who found you?”

“I don’t remember.” He says dryly, his gaze returning forward as he scans the vendors again till something catches his eye… visor.

“So then what’s with the armor?”

He stops midstride, and you sense that you’ve either said something wrong or insulted him in some way.

Your cheeks immediately feel like their burning despite the chill that raced down your spine. You blink back a million-and-one thoughts and possibilities on how he might respond. Was he mad? Dumbfounded? Absolutely furious? It’s too hard to tell. By the way he’d stopped and now turned his head towards you, your hands clench into a fist- not prepared to strike, but to brace.

He chuckles. He chuckles. Warmly, softly, and bemusedly, his modulated blitheness is musical and so incredibly comforting. You’re not sure how you should react. It’s not the reaction you’d braced yourself for. After all, you’d insulted him, didn’t you?

“You mean to tell me that you’ve never seen Mandalorian armor before?” He asks, resuming the slow pace he took beside you.

You shake your head, looking down at the ground as you resume walking a few paces behind him. The child, unbothered, continues to chew on the pastry and inquisitively looks between yourself and Mando.

“I’m surprised Malsifer never let you see one.” He says, “No wonder you seemed pretty scared when I was there.”

You’d kept your gaze down at your feet as you walked, feeling ashamed to ask a dumb question in the first place. Of course you knew what a Mandalorian was, but you’d only ever read about them in flimsi books you’d managed to smuggle in and out of Malsifer’s library. They seem downright fictional, down to their very demeanors of being militant and mute. It didn’t help that the only information accessible to you came in bound flimsi books that in itself was probably older than yourself or Malsifer’s combined existence. You’d never seen their armor, at least not the kind that Mando was sporting in pure Beskar and with a helmet that looked too much like a storm trooper’s. You’d sooner expect he was an ex-trooper, or someone who simply stole or bought their armor.

“It was terrifying.” You admit softly, “You, pointing a blaster in my face. Doesn’t help that you’ve got all that armor.”

You see his boots stop moving and turn towards you. You still keep your gaze down, distracting your hands with the child’s robes as the crumbs of his treat fell from his face.

“Look at me.” He says sternly, and you obey, looking up into his visor, “You need to… unlearn whatever this is.”

You chew your lip, intimidated by his presence so close and so powerful over you. You fight yourself and your nervous glances away from the glare of his visor.  

“I don’t know what Malsifer put you through, but here, with us… none of it.” He continues, “Can’t have you walking behind me like some shadow, not with my kid.” He takes a step back from you and turns away, but stops.

His shoulders drop and his demeanor softens, “You were walking next to me.” He says, awaiting for you meet him at his side, “You were saying…”

Meeting up with him, the child in your arms coos and reaches out to Mando, who scoops him up from your grasp and you hide your arms under the cloak. He is right, it’s different with Mando and his kid. This is an equal playing field where you’re a part of a cohort of other individuals just like you. Of course, Mando is the leader, he provides, flies, and protects. The new dynamic is refreshing, but old habits are hard to beat. Which isn’t a natural nor healthy response. But neither was being caned across your knees and shins if you didn’t do so.

Mando stops at a vendor selling a wide assortment of things. They all seem extremely random, from switchboards to datatapes to bacta kits. Perhaps these are things the vendor was able to scavenge off broken ships and droids, this isn’t the first time you’d seen scrap collectors try to sell off what they can’t trade at a refinery. You’ve heard of such beings called Jawas who are infamous for such scavenging, but you also know that they’re not entirely open to the idea of selling what they find.

Mando strikes up a conversation with the vendor, a tall and slender specimen with small black eyes and three digits on each of their four arms. They’re haggling, is what you can assume, as Mando shakes his head and points to a well-stocked bacta kit on the table. The vendor insists on a certain price, counting it off on his palms before accepting a deal with Mando’s budget. He swipes the bacta off the table, and tosses it.

You catch it and immediately hide it under your cloak. Mando notices, walking away from the vendor saying, “Keep that there, don’t want him noticing he let me take the wrong one.”

His dry friendliness is welcoming, it made you feel like you were walking with a friend rather than a tank. The child giddily had finished his snack and entertained himself with his metal ball, which now you’d deduced was from a switch or lever, likely coming from the cockpit of the ship.  

“So… your armor. Mandalorian?” You ask, keeping pace with him.

He nods, “Mandalorian.”

You think back to what you’d read about in the flimsis, “If I recall correctly, some Mandalorians choose to keep their helmets on? Or do all of you have to wear it all the time?”

Mando nods, “When I swore to the creed, I swore to keep my identity secret. It’s part of our code.”

“So ‘Mando’ isn’t your real name?” You ask.

“No.”

“So what is your name?”

“Mando.”

You furrow your brows, not wanting to press further. You admire the devotion, despite it frustrating you further. You wanted to learn more of him, but now you know that such learning can no longer pertain to his appearance, and you must now learn his character. Though it wasn’t the only thing weighing on your curiosity, you’ve already begun building his profile.

Like you’d learned during your time in hyperspace that he is a man of not-so-many words. He isn’t aptly good at beginning a conversation, and usually such conversations are limited to small talk on the basis of his work and ship… But that had been debunked when he disclosed that he gets his cloaks from the woman at the colorful stand, and joked to you about the bacta-kit hidden away under your cloak. You hope he will reveal more of himself to you with time. You’re patient enough for that.

You respect that his physical appearance as an extension of his anonymity. It’s not the only instance where you’ve experienced the sort of veiling that came with particular religions, cultural identities, and personal choices. It will be up to him to disclose what he wants and when- it would be rude of you to pester. It’s not your place.  

The three of you walk leisurely, stopping occasionally to look at something interesting at a stall before returning into the direction of the ship. In the distance, you observe the man from earlier standing and waiting for you, Greef, you remember Mando mentioning the name.

Mando hands you the child back into your arms, “Get back on the ship.” He instructs, and you nod, the baby beginning to doze off to sleep in your arms.

~~

“What did you find?” Mando asks taking a few steps towards Greef and out of earshot from his new crewmate.

Greef’s usually friendly smile is thin, “I found one result for her name, one that appears on an obituary. According to the systems, she’s technically dead.”

Mando exhales sharply, disappointed, and curiously tipping his head to the side, “So, what? How long has she been ‘dead’?”

“Five years.” Greef says bleakly, “And she has no digital footprints anywhere. No record of her ever even having an account to hold credits, or receipts from anywhere that she’s spent credits.”  

Mando looks back in the direction of his ship, watching you board the Razor Crest with the child in your arms, how tenderly you hold his head and attend to his sleepy babbling. This is unfortunate news, that Mando would need to tell you sooner rather than later.

“I don’t know what to do with her.” Mando admits quietly, your silhouette disappearing in the ship.

Greef clears his throat, “I know this is none of my business, but the baby seems to like her, it’s pretty obvious… Until she can figure things out on her own, she can stick around, learn a thing or two, and you’ll have someone who can take care of the kid when you have jobs.”

Mando nods, “This isn’t the first time Malsifer faked someone’s death just to drain their accounts?”

“It’s also not the first time he’s trapped pretty young girls into being his personal assistants.” Greef says, raising an eyebrow in Mando’s direction.

“He abused them.” Mando says, “If it wasn’t for their money, what else did he need them for?”

Greef shrugs, folding his arms across his chest, “Malsifer seemed like the controlling type… He liked being in control of anything and everything important to him which is money and power. I don’t think she was a part of anything more sinister, but I certainly wouldn’t rule it out.”

“I’ll find that out more when she feels like talking. Right now… I don’t know what to do with her.” Mando crosses his arms.

Greef looks back at the ship behind Mando and back to his visor, “Let her stay until she can figure something out for herself. She can be useful while you work, keep the ship and the kid safe while you’re out…”

Mando nods again in agreement, “It’s my only option right now. Thank you… for your help.”

Greef smiles, “Anytime, old friend.”

--

Mando appears on the ship shortly after you’d put the child to sleep in his shiny egg-like crib. He’d tired himself out from the morning shopping and was happily full of whatever pastry took him the entire walk to eat.

You’d put the bacta pack in the bacta kit soldered on the metal of ship and managed to clear out some of the dust that had blown into the hull while the door was open. You’d observed Mando’s ship to not only be Old Republic but also just old in general. Though it is in excellent flying condition for its age, it lacked in amenities that more modern ships had like touch-pads instead of buttons and actually finished floors and walls. Either Mando is a man of old fashion, or simply too preoccupied to take care of his ship like others do.

He is quiet, walking up and down the hull checking lights, buttons, datapads, and other things. While he did that, you patiently sit on the familiar wedge prepared to strap into the metal wall and prepare for take-off. Your hands occupy themselves with the hang nails that plague your fingers.

You see, from the corner of your eye, something tan and grey. Looking up, it was Mando, handing off to you a pile of clothing he’d gathered in his quiet pacing around the hull.

“Thank you.” You say softly, standing to get to the fresher.

Mando nods, “Meet me in the cockpit, we need to talk.” And he turns before you can ask any questions. He disappears up the ladder.

The cockpit? You think to yourself curiously, what in the worlds does he want to talk about?

The mirror in the fresher is just reflective enough to call itself a mirror. It clearly once existed as a piece of scrap that Mando had repurposed to decorate the blank wall above the sink. But it fulfilled its purpose in reflecting back the visage of yourself you present every day.

Today, you look tired.

Dark circles around your eyes hint at some much needed deep sleep and the tired squint you gave to yourself only emphasizes this.

You look at the clothing Mando handed to you, consisting of a large white shirt and some pants that definitely needed to be tailored to accommodate your height and lack of… lower… masculine features. These are clearly articles of clothing Mando has no use for, and you’re thankful for them despite Mando’s somewhat apparent reluctance.

You undo yourself from your dress, somewhat sad to see the magical colors fall to the floor in a wispy heap. This was healthy though, a transition into a different person. After all, you’re fulfilling the prophecy you’d begun to brainstorm the first night aboard the ship: a change of clothes.

The shirt is square, harsh but hemmed edges of fabric for sleeves, a collar, and buttons to secure said collar closed. It sat rather high on your neck, so you keep the first two buttons undone, one side of the collar falling open to reveal the raw edge of the hem. The sleeves were of a comfortable length, also squared off with a button for cuff-links that you undo and gently fold up your forearm.

Looking back up at yourself in the mirror, you look like a little girl trying on her father’s clothes. It’s clear that they’re too big, but you make do with tucking and folding where you can. But the broad and structured shoulders the shirt gave you made you feel… bigger? Something about it made you feel more robust.

The pants are… another story. Of course they sat a little low on your hips and were too loose around the area where you lacked the facilities of a man. But the utilities of having so many pockets and places to stow away small items brought you some small joy as you cuff the pants around your ankles and tuck the shirt into them.

You style your hair simply up, anything to keep it away from your face and off your shoulders till it’s time to wash and you think what to do about them then.

Looking back into the crusty mirror, though your eyes see themselves, a whole new person has taken shape behind them. It felt foreign to you to appear so fresh-faced, neutral, and unassuming in a world where Malsifer demanded you always looked your best as an extension of himself and his appearance. That usually translated in wearing makeup on a near-daily basis, and extravagant colorful gowns to even the most casual of events.

The dress is a pastel mess on the floor of the fresher, and looking down at it, you feel a twinge of guilt for having to abandon it. It’s pretty…

You bundle it up and head out from the fresher.

You walk quietly across the hull, your bare feet making light patting noises as you went. Sitting at the wedge in the wall, you ditch the dress behind you and slip on your boots again before standing up, and head towards the cockpit like Mando told you to.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #the mandolarian #asclepius-erebus

[crystal-moon-101]

Ben Gen 10 - Live Reaction Review

Right, so since I’ve finally got my hands on the new crossover episodes, and since my favourite show of all time is Generator Rex, I thought I’d watch it and write down things along the way. Mostly just reactions to things happening as they go, and then probably a simple review at the in another post of what I liked, didn’t like, and maybe what other ways this episode could have gone.

Spoilers! Kind of, for those who haven’t seen it yet! But onto the watching!

Should probably mention I haven’t seen a whole lot of the Reboot Ben 10. Not awful from what I’ve seen, some interesting and well-done aspect even, but certainly not my cup of tea. But I’m here for my boi Rex anyway so…

This is actually quite a cute theme song intro, not gonna lie

Ah, yes, a very American opening in a very American location.

Lol, of course they use Heatblast as the first alien in the episode, got the same voice actor as Rex, nice touch.

Evil...trees? Are these actually villains in the show?

Also, that little girl is precious.

Ben, are you trying to start a forest fire in the middle of the park?!

Ha, Gwen gets it!

Ah, yes, more American stuff.

“Don’t wreck the precious monuments” should have seen what you did to Mount Rushmore in your past, Ben.

Sup, Hex.

Music is evil, got it.

So Ben’s aliens are pretty famous already, at least being treated more like celebrities than monster sightings.

“Burn the flute!” A.K.A nearly burn Hex in the process.

And that’s why Ben never passed music class.

And why exactly do you want the world, Hex?

“Hopefully the last one of the summer” Don’t jinx it Max!

Time goes by so fast, doesn’t it Ben? Especially with aliens, villains and timetravel.

Max is secretly an EVO with that kind of growl.

Yes, because as we all know, villains will stop trying to take over the world once summer is over. They must hibernate for the winter.

Also, Max, did you steal those marshmallows?

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…….Ben, you good there?....Did Hex do something to your brain?

Who thought this would be great to animate!?

We all have those existential crises and talk to smores.

Jesus, Rex, got ninja skills I see.

Some homeless kid and his monkey stole my food? Time to kick some ass!

My favourite alien, Canonballoon.

I’ve missed my boy and his chimp.

Awwwww they’re sharing! Also just….feel so bad for them already. Homeless and struggling for food, my poor boys.

So EVOs do exist here? Wonder how that will be explained.

Ben out here really trying to beat up some other kid, lol. What a great hero.

Bobo, you are great.

I feel like...Ben’s going through some issues.

Ah yaaaaaaaaaaa, bring on the EVO powers! BFS!

Look ma, no hands!

Rex 1, Ben 0

Ben really wants to commit murder or assault here, wow.

Overboard is the word I’d use, yes.

The life of a background character.

Nanites confirmed! And now they’re in the watch, that ain’t good.

Huh...not what I thought was gonna happen.

The little girl is still precious.

This would be fun to explain to Azmuth.

This ain’t good.

On the run from Providence I see.

Awww, poor Rex. Really doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

I can’t tell if these people are angry because of the DNA affect them, or they’re really just being angry in general.

See ya, Gwen and Max.

Interesting to see that the Providence aircraft looks straight out of the show.

Evening, Six.

Still a badass like normal.

He said Omega, he said the word!

Also, nice blame game there Ben. It’s not like you provoked Rex by, ya know, trying to crush him like a grape.

Um...Six...did you just….try to kill a kid? He didn’t know Ben had powers, that pillar could have easily crushed a normal human.

“This is how you try to convince me you’re not a threat?” Say the dude who just tried to murder a kid!!”

Oh no, he Naruto runs! 

Oh, hello Hex.

Also, what is Providence in this world? What are EVOs and Nanites in this world? None of this has been explained yet.

Ok, so that’s what Providence is...You’d think we would have seen them before based on all the aliens showing up who want to destroy the world.

EVO Generator....I wonder if that means that there aren’t very many EVOs, like maybe there is only a set group from the same lab, and Rex is considered the most dangerous because he can make EVOs.

Ben, do you even know what an EVO is?

Jeez, I know Six is like, the sixth deadliest man on the planet, but he just tackles alien Ben like it’s nothing. This guy should take on Vilgax.

Did he say nib libs?

My boi’s back!

I’m not liking this Six...very much not the character I’ve come to love. Who are you and what have you done with the real Six!

Lol, gotta make sure the kids at home know these aren’t real guns!

Using a net on one kid, and about to beat the crap out of the other, nice.

I do have to ask why Hex was picked to me the main villain, beyond whatever the hell Providence is doing. Why the magic dude and not a tech based villain? Someone who could be both interested in the watch and nanites.

What a covenant spell you have there, Hex.

Again, why do you want to take over the world?

“No, those are my aliens!” I think that’s the least of your concern there, Ben.

Bobo 1, Hex 0

Why is Bobo one of the best-written character’s here? Not that I hate Bobo, but just…

Lol, Rex did you just lay there, the entire time? What was that net made out of?

Ah, right. Let’s attack the children rather the magical manic who clearly stated he wanted to rule the world.

Those nets are fireproof apparently.

Ooof, ah….quite the sore spot there, Ben.

Just let me hug Rex, please…

Are there EVOs are are there not!?

I know this is supposed to connect with older fans, but most of this info would fly over the head of anyone who hasn’t watched Generator Rex. They act like everyone knows what EVOs and nanites are.

Still with the blame game are we, Ben?

Judging by that look, Rex’s parents are also dead in this world. Guess he’s not allowed nice things in this universe either.

That flashback was….so latching in the dramatic department. 

Now ya wanna help, Ben.

He’s so scared of himself, noooo!

Ya, but the different between you and him, Ben, is that he lost his parents, his home, got mutated, his memories became hazy, got locked up and called a monster, and now lives on the streets stealing smores. I think Rex has more of a reason to feel scared at being new with the hero business.

Bobo gets it.

Gotta love they added details on Gwen and Max’s alien forms to make them stick out from the rest. Don’t want to confuse anyone lol.

Thinking of a clever comeback on the spot is hard, not gonna lie.

Yes, Ben, drown him.

Again, with the American music, lol. It ruins the fight scene here.

What is this fight scene?

Original Providence agents would have died on screen rather than ditching the fight.

God, everyone’s made Rex feel like everything is his fault, poor guy.

Rock 1, Ben 0

This message and heartfelt moment falls flat, the build-up wasn’t there and it just...kind of happens. It lacks a lot of flavour and impact, and it doesn’t help with how most of these characters are written.

Old people jokes.

Now we shift the blame to Kevin.

Is Fourarms Gwen bigger? Because if so, nice touch, since we know female Tetramands are stronger/bigger than the men.

Ok, so attempted murder is fine when Six and Ben try to do it, but not Rex, got it.

Get in line Hex, you’re not the first who wants to ‘recruit’ Rex. You’ve got Providence, Van Kleiss, Quarry, Black Knight, that one band, and so on so fourth.

Why is this heartfelt moment suddenly happening now? This feels like it could have been placed back when Rex refused to fix the watch.

Ben…”I’ve already tried that!” Bruh, you tried beating him up, telling Six and Providence you saw him, basically acted like he wasn’t a good hero because he refuses to get over his trauma, and reached out your hand once because it benefited you....I get what they’re trying to do, but it just makes Ben look like a jerk. I get he’s ten, but still…

Just...slap him Bobo, please…

Why are we so nervous about Rex’s sword? Ben you have aliens that can burn, cut, smash and so on, and you barely care what you do. Remember how you nearly started that forest fire at the start?...

Yo, what!? What kind of logic is that, Providence? “Whelp, guess earth is screwed, might as well burn it”

Ya, remember that time when EVOs infected the whole world, and Providence decided to just burn everything down with lasers? 

Extendo blade.

Huh, so Six’s blades can break down Rex’s builds.

Salamander...don’t you mean...Skalamander?

One ship? What is Providence packing!?

Yasss, Punk Busters!

Rex is crying, how dare you!

Now we got Smack Hands, you’re in for it, Hex!

Ooooooooooooooonnnnn iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttttttttttttttt!

Ah yes, the sixth most beautiful man on the planet.

Again...what is with the nuking?

Magical cloth fixing, just what I need.

Pure chaos with my boy.

Cracking his neck made me cringe.

Also why the sudden change in heart, Six? This feels out of character for the character who is out of character.

Look, Rex, you’re either gonna fix the watch, or you’re gonna start the self destruct countdown. Everything is going to hell, so might as well take that 50/50.

And it worked!

Ah ya, about that missile.

See’s missile inbound “I can handle it!”

Iron Giant vibes around here.

Screw ruling the world, I’m gonna murder this one child!

My cat’s the same.

REX, DID YOU JUST KICK A MISSILE!?

So that’s his full name?

I think you need to work on those vacation days with your boss, Six.

You are not Six, I will never accept you.

So the episode starts with Rex being alone, homeless and being chased by Providence, and ends with him being alone, homeless and being chased by Providence. What was the improvement here? Self Confident?

Ben even just lets him go, doesn’t even offer him to stay with his family.

Rex deserves better.

Another heartfelt moment that just...falls flat…

“Always be family and be there for you, Ben” Until you go to college without telling him before hand

So!...That was the crossover. Not...amazing sadly. I didn’t have high hopes to begin with, and mostly was just happy enough to have Gen Rex be acknowledged. But this Crossover missed a lot of points, and fumbles quite a bit. It reminds me a lot of the Secret Saturdays Crossover and what was wrong there. But I’m tired and will do a break down/proper review another day, if people are keen for that. Thanks for reading this if you did, it was a rollercoster!

#Interesting to analyze #But I am still disappointed #Welp time for fanfictions and fanart to save the day! #Generator Rex #Gen Rex #GR #Ben Gen 10 #Ben 10 #Ben 10 reboot #Ben 10 Generator Rex #Ben Tennyson #Rex Salazar

[thewildwaffle]

Cuddly but Dangerous

There was a story I read that helped to inspire this. It was about “human therapy” and the spas and clinics that started popping up after humanity joined the galactic community. Based off a story from @starr-fall-knight-rise​ called Oxytocin. Check it out, it’s great!

***

“And you’re sure you used enough tranquilizers?” Gnet prodded the massive alien form cautiously with the butt of his blaster.

“Listen, we hit that thing with at least three shots between all of us, it’s down and it’s going to stay down for a looooong time,” Wrun hardly looked up as she helped the others pack up and stow the hunting equipment. Many hands make light work, and soon all five of them stood surrounding and admiring their quarry - a human.

It was rare to see humans out this far from their home solar system, unless of course they were part of a crew or expedition. But they’d found one on its own. They’d picked up on their ships signal, tracing it back to this planet, studied it's movements and finally, today, they had struck. As the human phrase goes, they'd struck gold.

Humans had been introduced to the Galactic community several standard solar orbits ago, and while they'd become part of the Galactic Alliance, there were still many planets full of races clamoring for access to them. Human-mania was a real thing. Everything about them was in high demand - their music, stories, technology, toys, artifacts, anything! Including humans themselves.

Was what they were doing illegal? Well, Gnet figured that depended on who you asked. And if you asked him, it was only illegal if they got caught.

“Hey Gnet! Take my picture with them?” Fent, the youngest on their crew, tossed him a field comm kit. It was equipped with a camera, among many other useful tools. Gnett caught it and huffed his displeasure. Fent had crouched down next to the human and was trying to move its long arms. “Do you think you can get a shot of me where I look like they're holding me? That would be hilarious!”

“No,” Gnet cut them off, passing back the comm kit, “Absolutely not. The last thing we need is evidence getting out and getting us all in trouble.” Fent looked like they might object, but Gnett stopped them, “I don’t care how cute they are, no. Now help load up.”

“Has anyone checked out the human’s ship yet? I’m sure there’s got to be a few somethings there that will be worth its weight in kwint credits!” the largest in their group, Semp eyed the small ship, barely visible in the distance.

Gnet tossed his head in excitement, “If not, there’s got to at least be plenty of supplies for it. That might help boost prices. Or perhaps some earth media or info stashed on the computers?”

Oh yes, they’d certainly struck gold today.

The ship had indeed been full of goodies. The ship itself, however, was basically only good for scrap at this point. How the human they’d caught been able to land that thing on that planet in one piece was a mystery to everyone.

Humans accomplishing near-impossible, incredibly dangerous feats? Yeah, sounds like their MO.

Gnet wandered the halls of their ship. He eyed each smuggler’s compartment as he went by them. The most precious/most illegal contraband items were stored amongst them. His wandering eventually led him to the suite where the human was being kept.

The lights in the room were dimmed and the platform the human was resting on was cushioned with blankets and anything soft they could find on the ship. They’d done their research. Between all that and the tranquilizers, the human likely would sleep until after the delivery. Gnet smiled smugly. It’d been so easy. And here they’d heard so many stories and reports of how tough humans were, how resourceful. Bah, he though, more like tall tales! Still, it was widely accepted among the galactic community that the earthlings were adorable. Cute in spite of their alleged ferociousness. He had to admit, it was pretty cute, asleep on its side, sides rising and falling slowly with each breath.

Over the past few years, there’d been claims of calming effects humans could have on a rather wide range of species. Cuddling. Human therapy, they called it. Granted, the calming effect wasn’t universal among humans. Some could be incredibly irritable or irritating. Nonetheless, there had been a rise in demand for hiring humans in upscale “therapeutic spas” around the galaxy.

Gnet stepped closer to the sleeping human. He poked its arm gently. Nothing. No, of course not. It would probably be out for another standard solar cycle or two at least. Still, this was a dumb idea. He knew it.  he was gentle and slow as he carefully lifted the top arm of the human. It was heavy. The arm alone from shoulder to fingertips was almost as long as he was tall. He managed to lift the arm enough for him to clear enough room to snuggle into the space between the arms. With his back to the human’s chest, he kept his arms ready and available to move the top arm again quickly if need be.

Soon, however, he felt himself loosen up. Ever so slowly, he wriggled down enough to be able to use the human’s lower arm as a pillow. By the void! Those quacks at the therapeutic spas were on to something! It felt like all the tension he didn’t even realize he’d been holding in his body was melting away. The warmth the human was radiating was starting to pull him into a sleepy haze.

Frewan, he though. As much as he hated the idea of moving, he couldn’t fall asleep here and now. The others would wonder where he’d gone off to and come looking. It took a while for his mind to convince his body to move. Eventually, he decided that after this whole job was done, he’d use part of his earnings to go visit one of those spas - get the full package! The best his money could buy!

With that helping to finally convince himself, he slowly started to lift the human’s arm again to get up. Before he’d moved it more than half a mirte, the human’s position shifted slightly. The arm he’d been lifting pressed back down firmly, the other arm underneath him coming up and around him. He was trapped! He pushed against the arms, but they didn’t budge. He tried wriggling out, but the arms only seemed to hold him tighter. Tighter? What in tronkus was going on?!

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop squirming.” The voice murmured quietly next to his ear. It was awake!? By all things bright and shining, how was it awake!?!?! The seeming impossibility of it all almost made him forget the fact that he was now being held tightly in the arms of a powerful alien that had every right to be ticked.

He stopped trying to break free. Maybe it could be reasoned with? Maybe he could distract it long enough from killing him that the rest of his crew would notice his absence and come find him? Worth a shot.

“How are you even awake? We shot you with three doses of hydrag serum.” Frewan. That’s definitely the wrong thing to say to start off with in this situation. It just came out. He was panicking.

“Those darts? Yeah, those wore off while you all were setting up my little room here. The bed looked so soft, I thought I’d stay for a while, get a good nap in.” The human squeezed Gnet tighter and he could feel the human arching their back and stretching as they slowly started sitting up.

“Gotta admit, I’m not loving the idea of our current destination though. I’ve got better stuff to do than muck around in the black markets of Tenbos 5. Tell you what though,” the human stood up off the makeshift bed. They took a few steps to balance themselves properly, Ghet still being held firmly in their arms, the ground seemed so far away from here. “Since I’m feeling so generous after my nice little nap, I’ll drop you and your little friends off there before I go back to doing what I was doing before our little meetup, huh? I think I’ll be able to get everything done much faster now that I’ve got a ship that doesn’t belong in a junkyard.”

What had they done?

They’d brought a monster on board. That’s what they had done.

#humans are space orcs #aliens #space #cuddles #humans are awesome #humans and aliens

[mimicsecretdiary]

Star Wars oneshot

[beware: long post ahead] Introduction

The Galaxy,for the first time,seems to be at peace: the Republic and Empire have reached a stall and acceptable agreements and both of them are not pinching and nabbing at each other too much. This is also thanks to the just-ended great war, lasting the incredible short period of 5 years, which had ended with a large-scale schism of the Sith order that destabilized the Empire. There are those who say the Sith "rebels" were supported by the Republic, some say they were headed by a Sith lord with powers comparable or even higher than the Emperor himself. The fact is that now the intergalactic forces are more or less in peace. [Characters introductions here]

The scene opens with a Chiss pilot in space. Janos has just finished one of his regular smuggling jobs and he's relaxing while the most recent member of his "one man crew" is being the paranoid of the bunch and he's checking the ship for any evidence or problems that might have happened during the mission. They receive a call on holo from a "private number" basically, and Janos, before letting his "co-pilot" paranoid human hacker answer, checks from where it arrives. It's from Korriban. "AH. EXCELLENT". They are a bit on the defensive but Jaydkan,the hacker knowns as "cresto", or hacker, or paranoid, or simply J says that "curiosity makes him curious" (he's a hacker, not a poet) and they respond. It is a rattataki that calls Janos by name (OK) and tells him that it is the apprentice of his "employer" (GREAT) and that has a job for him, perhaps the last "mandatory" one (actual good), and she basically wants me to pick up two Night Sisters( G L O R I U O S) and a couple of jedi ( SPEC TA CU LAR) to help her Master in a thing. "ah ok, so now I'm taxi service". Of course I accept, I do not have the right to refuse, and I head to the coordinates. The scene moves to the Night Sisters, who are briefly informed about the matter by teh same rattataki woman, even if they already knew what they had to do and they get informed about who and where and when they will be taken to do such work. Madea and Winter are of few words and many facts so when the "taxi" arrives, they introduce themselves - more or less- and they go quietly in their ""lodgings"" on the ship to meditate. New change of scene and we are on Typhon, known planet of jedi temples. Three jedi are digging and working in an archeologic site when one of the three, Sa'Vin, recieves an holo call. From a "private number" She moves away from the tent and answers, finding the same rattataki as before. But she knows her by name ("Tiraka"), and knows who she is and who her Master is, as she had had "dealings" with him in the past. There is a strenuous conversation where Tiraka asks for support from Sa'Vin, and she deduces that it must be a great deal if it is her and not her Master who calls for help. The sith apprentice confirms the situation it's as such. With a sigh, Sa'vin accepts the caller's request for help and closes the call, speaking soon after privately with her padawan Milisendis asking if she would feel comfortable doing a "special" mission. The Miraluka girl seems to be interested academically speaking and, when asked, the other Jedi, a Givin called Iad-aan, appears to be interested as well (there is a samll player-death here bcs the charcter vocie od Iad-aan made me die laughing.). Iad-Aan asks if it is an illegal thing, and when it is confirmed that it is not "technically" he lightly accepts. Sa'vin drives in speeder the two colleagues / companions to the place of randevouz for Tiraka had confirmed that she had already arranged somebody to come and get them near the place of need. The three await the ship in a open grassfield and when the said transport arrives after a a couple of hours, Iad-Aan uses the Force to "see" who is inside and percieves clearly two strong sources of Force not fully trained on but mostly Dark Ways. On the other hand, the Night Sisters perceive themselves to be observed. Landing, Janos comes down from the ship to check his "cargo" and remaining pleasantly surprised by (re)Seeing Sa'vin, cordially greeting Millisendis and remaining a little shocked by the welcoming of the Givin, makes them jump on board, urgently asking not to provoke quarrels with the other two young ladies in the ship. There is a brief chat between Janos and Sa'vin, where she asks him to use the name with which she presented herself and where she whispers that she would like to know where he had met this current employer of his (The sith master she also knows). "I could ask you the same question, Counsellor Sa'vin" "it is not obvious that i will not answer". On the ship they all meet up with a young blue twi'lek and a jawa, who is promptly threatened by Janos who warns the small alien that he is "keeping an eye on him (Zili.. Don't let it touch my droid)". It's obvious that this kind of conversation is now routine on the ship. [Sa'vins player was feeling ill so she left after this point] Before taking off, on the datapad that gave Janos the coordinates for the variosu landings a message compose itself and it suggests to ask the Nighsisters to explain the problem to the new arrivals of the ship. Janos hurriedly gets up (complaining that it could have wrote the message in the 5 seconds before i had sat down on the pilot seat) and he goes, but before he could hear the Night sisters' negative answer, he's already gone. The journey starts... without any of the main groups exchanging covnersations. We arrive at the coordinates set: a moon that looks more like a cemetery of buildings than an inhabited place, with several craters created or from large battles or frequent meteorites. When the ship docks, the landing pod blocks my supports and I find myself very frustrated at the idea of ​​not being able to just get the fuck out. The jedis and the non-Force-users get off board looking at a pyramid liek tomb, stil lwondering what we are doing there since miss onehanded -shotgun-loading-sound Madea has not told us anything about the job yet. Looking around the landing pod we see the door of a pyramidal tomb that is closed by two statues with hands and arms joined. The scavengers notice also some computers with soem data running on the screens and the hacker + twi'lek are observing with great interests the tech there: it's an automatic station for archaeological finds' analysis. J downloads a bit of the just finished analysis on the device and Yewzili pockets some various paddles. I'm like "kid don't do it" and she "it's to repay you: 3" "if you want to repay me by sicking 45 angry Siths because I stole their precious antique night vases, i'll gladly skip that" "they will never notice." While the three smuggler-type pirate things, the jedis use the Force to open the doors, after Madea said, very caustic, that their employer is literally just locked inside (janos: "AH he called us because he got stuck a tomb, this is AMAZING"). The jedi open the door of 50cm and let pass the two Night sisters in front of line, then they go in and finally the mere blaster-holders go at the rear. As soon as we get all inside, Iad-aan uses the Force again to perceive dangerous creatures and finds two or three BIG clustersof negative energy plus a more powerful one of inestimable suffering in the depths of the tomb. We assume that's out quarry. Trying to avoid the clusters of life forms perceived by the mathematical jedi, we start our descent. At the first junction we are attacked by a Kath who is severely mistreated by the force-users (Medea jumps behind him using the wall as a lever hitting his back, ian-aad splats it on the ceiling, Zili electifies it with the vibrosword and finally Medea eviscerates it while iad -aan overkills it with a Force-beheading. Janos kinda just puts away the blaster shrughing). A little further on we find another forkin the road, with both ends going downhill, and an obelisk at the center of a small opening in the cave. The jedi interact with it- in whisper - while Janos  -"feeling lucky" in whisper - gets a very bad feeling from the way on the right. Iad-aan says that the obelisk has "spoken to him" and that we must continue in the way right but "without touching the dead" - something along these lines. There is a brief pseudo-philosophical discussion between iad and medea where medea does not seem particularly inclined to speak, while janos and zili are having an heated covnersation about some potential good stored in Janos' ship that zili may or may not have"resold" or used (spoielr: it was spice. (context: spice in sw its drug basically)). In the fustration, Janos does not realize that he is walking right in the direction of the bad feeling. We arrive in a room full of stacks of skeletons and Iad-Aan assumes these are the dead not to be touched, so with nonchalance levitates wit hthe Force across the room (he's usign a lot of Force powers, he should be more careful). Madea comments caustically that "some" people REALLY like to show "how many things they can do"; the Night Sisters make show of their great agility and the others (Milisendis Zili, and J) simply walk - janos needs a few seconds before deciding to cross the room .  The "bad feeling" really gets to him- [J's player is prone to be very sleepy so he left as well at this poing] Just as we are getting out the blasted room, 6 huge and disgusting humanoids, Rakghouls, jump on us and we start a fight. Janos  -last in the line so first to be attacked- slips his entire arm into the mouth of one of these monsters as it growls and he like unloads his blaster charge in the skull of the disgusting thing, causing it to burst from within. The creature falls to the ground coem a fish without bones, ("Ah ... he bit me ç_c ...") biting janos' arm on the way down; Iad-aan unleashes his levitate to lift himself up into the cavernous room and not get caught by two of them; medea uses, according to old tactics already tried, Winter as jumping pad and twirling in the air with feline grace and shoots in the head to another of the creatures with the blaster incorporated in her mechanical arm; zili jumps back while the attack of the jedi padawan Milisendis doesn't go as good as she would have wanted. In the second round with a bit of Force pushes and blaster shots an classical Force-beheadings, we take the rest out. Medea snaps a bit of acid words to Zili ("Cowardice will not keep you alive") and we contine along the path down (zili is quite offended: "it actually works pretty good to me"). Around the corner we hear heavy steps and Mili, Yewzilin and Janos peek the corridor while Iad-Aan perceives it with Force: it is a fairly large creature known to feed on the Force + force users altogether. Janos comments that "hey, at least three of us are safe!" readily correct that they are nonetheless creatures carinvore and the Force flows in all of us. yadda yadda jedi shit. Janos promptly takes zili for an arm and literally sprints silently across the corridor to where the creature is eating some corpse or carcass. Zili does not make a sound but Janos almost slips and schatters a bone by mistake. Luckly the creature does not seem to care too much. ("DAMN IT YOU OLD MAN" Zili whispers angrly. "Ehy watch your mouth kid, the thing didn' saw us anway!!") Janos was "arguing" with Zili to use the Jawa as a distraction while Milsendis and Medea convinced Iad-aan that usinf the Force -again- to move soem rock in a far away corridoir would have not distracted the creature because it would have felt the source of the Force-usage. Some more or less sucessful sneaking made us avoid the creature complitely. We find now in front of a dor not much different from the one we met earlier and Medea with Winter brute-forcibly try to push it open (Medea: "will you others help us or not?". Janos and zili, together:"no no i think i'l lstay here watchign you two." zili:"I could watch them all day * eyes emoji *") while the jedi reuse the Push to Force it open. The initially percieved source of pain becomes it stronger once we enter the next room. [And hereby we ended the oneshot]

#actually happened #roleplay... in space! #DM Shaykan #star wars oneshot #Iad-Aan Onnardess #Janos Odai #Jaydkan Ligobòu #Medea #Milisendis Kalaji #Sa'Vin #Yewzilin Hole #Winter

[elsinore-and-inverness]

46 Quotes from David John Tennant ❤️❤️:

1. “I see nothing wrong with having an unhealthy obsession with something.”

2. "If they find what they expect, the physicists will party, if not, the physicists will party anyway, physicists are odd like that."

3. “The audience is the final cast member.”

4. “I was still just the wee boy frae Paisley.”

5. "When you think about it, many aspects of how we look, the way we act...” [looks in mirror] “Or my insufferable vanity, are determined genetically."

6. [while nuzzling the fur of Arthur the horse, which he is severely allergic to] "Are you going to be my friend?"

7. "Science is as much the pursuit of beauty as it is the pursuit of truth."

8. “How long can you keep smiling?”

9. “The Doctor is based on who I would be if I had more confidence and didn’t care so much about what people think.”

10. “It’s time to positively rebellious and rebelliously positive.”

11. “I’m only looking at the twinkle of their soul in the starlight.”

12. “I suppose It’s only boring if you don’t have a washing machine.”

13. “Everything’s scripted! The air molecules are scripted!”

14. “We’re just matter. We can dream of flying across the universe, but what it comes down to is just a hunk of bone... The trouble with a cliché is that it loses its meaning.”

15. “But I wasn’t talking to myself. I was making up stories.”

16. “Everyone everywhere has the right to be happy and free... There are so many of us humans squeezing onto this wee planet and there’s no TARDIS coming to spirit us away. We have to look out for each other.”

17. “If I had to be stuck in a parallel universe with one fandom it would be the Doctor Who fans. I think they’re the cleverest. Quickest wits in the internet.”

18. “Sometimes I’m haunted by it, sometimes I’m enlivened by it, sometimes it weighs me down, and other times it’s like a drug and I can’t wait for the next sniff.”

19. “85.3 percent of actors are down-to-earth and reasonable.”

20. “You have to be careful with Shakespeare, because people tend to know it.”

21. “Some of my earliest memories are of being tucked up in bed while mum or dad read to me."

22. "I have no real ambitions, just to live and fulfill myself, whatever that means."

23. [about falling down on set all the time] "I would always get up and keep going, but nobody else would."

24. "I don't think anyone that is perceived as a villain sees themself as a villain."

25. "A perfect idea, I suppose, it fires the imagination in such a particular way. Something to do with the fantastic and the futuristic coming together. The TARDIS is the most extraordinary vehicle you could imagine and it's wrapped up in a scruffy blue phone box. The Doctor is the most clever, extraordinary being, and yet he is scrappy and anarchic. There is something more identifiable with the geek hero. We have to accept that somethings are sprinkled with fairy dust and we won't know why."

26. “If you could isolate the elements that turn something into gold you would be an alchemist, wouldn’t you?”

27. "A long table scattered with scripts, water bottles, and paper name plates stretched the whole length of the room. What felt like hundreds of people milled about expectantly, chatting, checking Blackberries, casting sideways glances as I tried to keep breathing and affect an air of insouciant calm."

28. "In a suburban house in Paisley, a wee boy was sticky-taping his oft-snapped spectacles back together. He couldn't remember a time when they hadn't been augmented with at least one area of peeling sellotape."

29. “I’ve always seen theatre as my natural mode of being.”

30. “I love you all passionately... And possibly carnally.”

31. "I would get to the point where I was rehearsing what I was going to say next: 'excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, terribly sorry, but I need to go throw up in the dressing room.'"

32. "I've chosen to follow my own spirit."

33. "Shakespeare's plots and characters are catnip to actors... It sings to us."

34. "I've been to lots of alien planets. You'd be surprised how many of them look like quarries in Wales."

35. "There is quite a lot of science in Doctor Who, some accurate science, some of it quite elevated, and some of it that's completely made up."

36. "I'm always chasing the script that I need to be worthy of."

37. "I would wander around, pretending to be all the characters. My parents would tell lots of stories of me wandering around the garden, talking to myself."

38. "I was the one delivering flowers for people who were in actual relationships with actual human beings."

39. "He's cleverer than me, he's quicker witted than I am, he's more intelligent than me, he's a better sword fighter than I am... I like to think I have at least a twinkle of all those qualities."

40. "It's difficult to describe your own personality... Happy, mostly, maybe a bit bewildered."

41. "Suddenly, and quite without warning, there was a rupture in the fabric of space and time."

42. “I thought that would be a very witty and expedient way to exit the room.”

43. “Other hair products are available.”

44. “I always get worried when adults say children don’t understand the difference between reality and fiction, because they do understand.”

45. “Hopefully I’m not as pathetic as I think I am at four in the morning.”

46. “A dream, while it’s happening, is as real and valid an experience as anything else. Until it stops.”

#dt appreciation week #david tennant #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE #ily david #thank you for existing #<333333

[sithsecrets]

release | din djarin x reader

A difficult hunt has Mando in a huff, and his crewmember knows just what he needs.

---

2.9k words

mentions: mando’s frustrated but not mean in the slightest, blowjobs, general musings on sex

---

Some hunts are easier than others— that’s one of the first things the Mandalorian told when you joined his crew. You’d thought that was a fair answer to the question you’d ask, and it made a lot of sense at the time because of course bounties have levels like practically anything else. Some people are stupid, others are smart…  A simple bail jumper’s probably not going to be much of a challenge, but a spice smuggler or a member of an organized crime ring? That could be difficult.

Before this assignment, you’d thought you knew what a difficult hunt looked like. There was the pimp on Jakku that led Mando on a chase for three days in the dessert, the pair of bail-jumping brothers that ended up being very well-connected to some very scary spicemakers, and a few other quarries that stick out in your mind. But Mando’s most recent mission…

This whole thing was a clusterfuck from the start. Karga had called it a “special quest” when he offered up the puck, and you’d been right there at Mando’s side when he asked for the price. The number that came out of Karga’s mouth was absolutely insane, almost too good to be true.

There was a catch, of course. The quarry is a member of an alien species known for their sameness— each being looks identical, no sex, no gender, no differentiating characteristics. To make a hard job even harder, the quarry’s…. a bad person. They’re dangerous, armed to the teeth, and known to leave a lot of collateral damage in their wake. And they’re rich. Unbelievably rich. The kind of rich that makes a person bulletproof, the kind of rich that lets a person disappear at will like they never existed in the first place.

Yet despite all of this, despite how difficult the task seemed, Mando accepted the puck anyway, and now you’re here in the Crest wondering what the fuck you’re going to do with him.

Four dead-end leads and three planets later, you think Mando’s going to crack. He came back to the ship earlier in a huff, announcing that you, he, and the baby would be going to yet another location to track this person down. Quiet rage has been radiating off of him ever since, the anger Mando feels slipping out here and there in all the wrong ways. He was less patient with the Child earlier when he was putting him down to sleep, and Mando’s tone was clipped when he declined your offer to make him something to eat. You try not to take any of his behavior personally, knowing good and well that Mando’s running on empty. The stress of this hunt has been immense, and you’re not sure if he’s been sleeping or eating like he should during his days away. Knowing how Mando takes care of himself in the best of times, though…

The man needs to relax, you think. He needs a good meal, something warm and filling, and a good night’s sleep. Mando also needs to blow off steam, needs to fight or scream or fuck—

You force yourself to clear that thought from your mind, even as you prepare yourself for what you’re about to do. It’s gamble, to say the very least— this could cost you your job, your place next to the Mandalorian. You don’t think you could stomach it, being sent away by this man that you care for, but something has to be done— about Mando’s agitation and your feelings for him.

Drawing in a deep breath, you stand before the ladder the leads up the cockpit, gathering every bit of courage you have. “Mando,” you call, hoping he won’t react too poorly to be disturbed right now. He went off hours ago, shutting himself away up there to “look over some intel,” whatever the fuck that means.

“What?”

The word comes out short, but not angry, and you figure it’s fine to go on.

“Can I come up?”

Mando doesn’t give you much in the way of an answer, but the noise he makes is affirmative enough. You climb up the ladder, the rungs cold on your bare feet, and then you’re there in the cockpit. Mando’s just as tense as he was when he went up here in the first place, shoulders drawn taut, eyes trained on a hologram in front of him. It looks like some sort of map, though the lines and colors mean little to you.

“How’s it going?”

He doesn’t even turn his head. “Fine.”

You watch Mando for a moment, nervous as you consider how to play this.

“Don’t you think you should rest, Mando?” you ask, coming to stand beside the pilot’s chair. He’s still hasn’t looked at you, hasn’t so much as glanced in your direction. “You need to eat, and I think sleeping would—”

“I’m not tired,” Mando cuts, and it takes everything in you to bite back your frustration.

“Yes, you are. You’re exhausted, and probably hungry, and even the baby can sense it.”

You don’t get a word of acknowledgement from the Mandalorian, not so much as a fucking syllable, and you finally slip just the slightest bit.

“Mando,” you declare, tone firm and demanding, and finally, finally, you have his full attention.

“Yes?”

Exasperation is clear in the Mandalorian’s voice, but he’s looking at you know, turning the pilot’s chair in your direction. One or two steps closer, and you’d be standing right between his legs, close enough to reach out—

Focus.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you huff, hands on your hips. “You know I’m right. I know this quarry’s been hard to catch, but you’re starting to slip.”

Once again, Mando leaves you sitting in silence, though it would seem that some of the fight’s left his body. Carefully, you inch forward, and just the slightest thrill runs up your back when Mando opens his legs to make room for you.

“I’m worried about you,” you confess, voice softening. “I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

Mando’s sigh is long and tired, but he’s out of energy to argue any further. “You’re right,” he concedes. “I— Maybe I am going a little too hard.”

“Of course I’m right.”

You take no real pleasure in this, but you are glad to hear Mando admit that he needs to slow down. With that done, though, it’s time for you to be brave, perhaps braver than you’ve ever been in your life.

“You need to relax, Mando,” you say softly, reaching out to rub at his arm. The visor follows your every move, but Mando trains his eyes right on you when you murmur, “Let me help you.”

“How— What do you mean?”

You’ve got the Mandalorian stuttering, and something about that boosts your confidence to a dangerous level. It almost feels like it’s not you that sinks down onto the floor, dropping onto one knee and then the other between Mando’s legs. Your fingers are on his belt for no more than a second before he’s reaching out, before he’s pushing your hands away and jolting in shock.

“Whoa, mesh’la, that’s not—”

“Necessary?” you cut, cocking your head. “I think that it is, Mando. You need to relax.”

“Yeah, but I don’t— You’re not obligated to—”

“Of course I’m not obligated. I want to do this, Mando. I want to take care of you.”

You settle on your knees and twist your hands out of Mando’s gentle grasp, the leather of his gloves cool on your palms. His fists clench and unclench under your touch, anxious and fidgety, and you feel the need to pause for just a moment.

“Mando,” you say softly, squeezing his hands, “I know what you need, and I’m happy to give it to you. But if you don’t want this, tell me now. I’ll go back down to the hull, you can go back to your map, and we never have to talk about it again.”

Mando hesitates, and you find yourself wondering if you this was a good idea.

“You actually want to do this? You— To me?”

You nod. “I really do.”

Finally, after a few more seconds of tense silence, Mando lets himself relax. You feel it, the way the muscles in his thighs go slack under your arms, the rest of his body sagging back in the pilot’s chair. Eyes track your every movement as you unbuckle Mando’s belt, though you see nothing but the blackness of the visor when you glance up. He’s good help, shifting from side to side as you try to tug his pants down just the slightest bit, and then there’s nothing left for you to do but start.

The moment you lean down to kiss the head of Mando’s cock, you’re blindsided by just how much you missed this. It’s been so long since you had sex with another person, so long since you felt the weight of a man on your tongue in this way. And the smell, Maker, the smell… You get lost in what you’re doing, focused on nothing but the feel of Mando’s cock in your mouth and the throbbing between your thighs. So lost, in fact, that it takes you about ten seconds too long to realize that you’re being touched.

Sometime between you undoing his belt and this very moment, Mando took off his gloves and threaded his fingers in your hair. He doesn’t pull or push or so much as try to control what you’re doing, but there’s a pressure there, a warmth. It would be inconsequential if Mando were someone else, the fact that his hand is bare against your scalp, but he isn’t. Such a simple gesture, and yet…

You sit back on your heels and catch your breath, one hand stroking Mando’s cock at a steady, even pace. A noise indicative of something not unlike despair slips out of the modulator that same instance, so quick and so quiet that it’s almost lost in the static, and not for the first time do you find yourself cursing the fucking helmet. You ache to see Mando’s face, you ache to see his whole fucking body…

“Are you feeling better?” you purr, mouth slick with drool as you talk. You’re not sure Mando likes you all sloppy and ruined like this, but you think it’s safe to go out on a limb just this once.

“Yes,” Mando grits, body shuddering when you lean down to kiss his cock. You take private pleasure in that, thrilled by the notion that a person like you could affect a person like him in such a way.

“Would you feel even better if you came down my throat? Or do you want to see it on my face instead?”

Mando keens, and you feel all-powerful.

“In your mouth,” Mando answers, fingers coming up to stroke your cheek. He sounds shaky, and you let up on his cock just the slightest bit. “I don’t— You don’t deserve to have someone make a mess of you.”

“I don’t mind a mess,” you say, because you don’t, not if Mando’s the one fucking you up. “Maybe next time I suck you off I’ll let you cum on my tits. I—”

“Now you’re just fucking with me,” he groans, squirming in his chair like he can’t help it.

“I’m not,” you purr, “I promise you I’m not. You can do anything you want to me, Mando, I mean that. I’ll lie there and take it—”

“Maker, your fucking mouth,” Mando cuts, breath ragged. “If you keep fucking talking, I’ll—”

He never gets to finish the sentence, words crumbling into nothing as you abandon your little game. You suck him off in earnest, using your tongue, paying special attention the places that make him jerk in his seat when you so much as breathe on them. It doesn’t take him long to fall apart, and you try your best to take it all, swallowing obediently like the taste is nothing to you. And how could you care about something as inconsequential as of the flavor of Mando’s cum when his cock is pulsing in your mouth, when he’s groaning and fisting his hand in your hair…

Listening to Mando cum, feeling him cum makes you drunk off arousal, but you force yourself to tamp down the feeling. He’d fuck you if you asked, rub your clit and let you clench on his fingers until you came at the very least, but this just… isn’t about you. No, this was something for Mando, a way for you to help him calm down, and you don’t want to ruin whatever peace he’s found by making demands. You’ll get yours soon, if you’re patient, and that’s more than okay right now.

Mando seems tired when you finally pull off of him for good, body sagging under his armor like simply holding himself upright would be a chore. You feel shy under his gaze, all your confidence and bravery slipping further and further away by the second. This was something you’d neglected to think about when you formed this plan in your mind, the after. Sucking Mando off and making him feel better is all well and good, but you still have to look at him, still have to go to sleep tonight and wake up in the morning knowing this happened. Knowing that he knows this happened…

Slowly, ever so slowly, Mando musters up a bit of strength, pulling up his pants and doing up the fly as you watch from your place on the floor. You’re half expecting to be dismissed when he’s done, and that’s why it’s such a shock when Mando leans forward to hold your face in his hands.

“Come here,” he says softly, and you don’t have to be told twice.

Your legs burn when you stand up, and your knees ache from kneeling like you did. None of that matters though, not when Mando sits you on his thighs and wraps his arms around your body. You’re facing him, legs dangling just above the floor on either side of his. The beskar is cold and hard against your skin, but Mando’s hands are warm, the expanse his palm soothing down the plane of your back. Up and down, up and down, up and down the heat travels, breathing life into something delicate and raw inside your chest. You thread your arms around Mando’s neck after a few minutes, glad that he’s still not talking. Something about his affection has you choking up, and you’d rather die than give yourself away. It’s the silence, you think, the way he says so much without speaking a word.

“Thank you.”

The words come out in a staticky whisper, the sound of them crackling in your ear. And though it pains you to do so, you sit up and look at Mando properly, missing the warmth of his neck the minute it’s gone.

“It was… You don’t have to thank me,” you say softly, fiddling with the collar of Mando’s shirt. You wonder where his cape is and why he took it off in the first place, though you’re not exactly sad to see it go. “Are you hungry? I made you a plate earlier even though you said you didn’t want to eat. It’s still good if you want it.”

“I do have to thank you,” Mando insists, holding your chin in his fingers. “You take good care of me, cyar’ika.”

Cheeks hot, you refuse to meet his eyes. “Well, it’s not like you don’t deserve it.”

You want to ask him what those names mean, the one he called you just now and the one he blurted out earlier when he tried to stop you. But you think it might ruin the mood, and so you swallow the question like you swallowed the lump in your throat a few minutes ago.

“If you go lie down in my bed,” Mando says slowly, one hand trailing down, down, down your shivering back, “I’ll take good care of you too.”

And though the very idea of what that could mean has you ready to run down the ladder as fast as you can, you shake your head.

“I just want to go to sleep, Mando,” you tell him, “I’m tired. And I know you are too.”

Mando’s going to protest, he’s going to insist he pay you back, this much is made clear by the way his hands tighten around your hips. But you cut him off before his tongue can so much as form the words, pressing your chest against his, rolling your hips…

“But when you catch the quarry, we’ll do whatever you want. I said you could do anything to me, remember?”

The Mandalorian’s breath hitches, and you know then that you have him.

“This was a release,” you explain, ducking your head to press you lips to whatever skin you can. The helmet does a good job of concealing his jaw, but not every bit of his neck is hidden away. “That will be a celebration.”

Mando huffs through the modulator, though you think his discontent is all for show.

“Fine,” he concedes, “but you better be waiting for me in that fucking bed when I get back.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #my writing #din djarin x you