#its the same feeling i got when i listened to sand planet for the first time. fuck. <- getting misty over it

[epicdogymoment]

#leologisms #um. no additional tags i guess. doesnt need the vcld tag #anyway. im finally sitting down to listen to one of kenshi yonezus albums in full and. man. #i actually havent heard most of the songs on this one before. but god the sense of familiarity and nostalgia washing over me #hachi has been one of my favourite vocaloid producers for so long. i know this album is an entire decade old this year. but finally #sitting down with it and really looking in the face how hes moved from a vocaloid producer making songs for a niche audience #to an internationally recognised artist. like many other people who were in the vocaloid scene ten years ago. god. #its the same feeling i got when i listened to sand planet for the first time. fuck. <- getting misty over it

[moonbeammist]

The Peasant's Secret (Part 1)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Dune characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

PAIRINGS: Feyd Rautha x Fem!Fighter!Reader

AUTHORS NOTE: I drew heavy inspiration from the Dune Soundtrack, especially the Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Suite by Hans Zimmer (avail on youtube atm)- truly sets the mood and tone for the story if you wanna have a listen. I appreciate this community of writers/readers! Any feedback and thoughts are most welcome! This is going to be a multi-chapter fic.

WARNINGS: (Mostly for 2nd Chapter): (Adults only 18+) profanity, extreme violence, gore, sadism, masochism, dubious consent, erotic undertones, heavy petting, reader is a fighter who get's extremly hurt, bigotry against the poor, very immersive, intimacy, touching, feyd-rautha is his sick self, public humiliation

SYNOPSIS: Hailing from the Planet Caladan as a rice cultivator who somehow ended up at the Harkonnen Arena, You know two things to be true.. 1. You are peasant scum and 2. You are going to try something that's never been done on the battlefield.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k words

You were in a colorless oasis. It wasn't really an oasis in the scenery sense; it was an oasis in the sense that it felt like a bottomless void, a strange, deafening dream. It was an oasis because it didn't feel like reality. A desolate vision to where no judging eyes would befall you as you threw your whole self, your body, into its ultimate test. That’s how they all made their mark here, isn’t it?

You reflect on Giedi Prime's obscure, bone-dry alternate reality to your home planet of Caladan - you were of peasant descent in the lush, grassy, biodiverse settlements. You and your mother had strengths in labour as rice planters, trading their services to the wealthy nobles in exchange for military protection. A life of labour and sweat in the rice fields, the economy depended on their work, as such, they had little free time.

Stepping foot into the outdoors, the crunch of your cheaply-made, scraggly brown boots is heard as you line up with the rest of the prisoners. The earth smelled of crust, rot, and blood. You somewhat know where you're supposed to end up as Harkonnen soldiers round you up, but at the same time, you haven’t got a clue where you’ll be settling before battle. Wide, dark tunnels arch over the sand like a protective roof against the beating black sun.  You've been given the finest privilege to represent your low-status family members in a brutal and bloody ceremony where this pale, ghostly Harkonnen House cuts you down, down into the dirt. A death deemed worthy. 

A death is worthy when you die with passion because you’re trying - kicking and screaming. It's a beautiful way to go because you feel everything.

The height of your human complexities is shown at the forefront - pushing yourself, testing yourself.. You who initially thought fighting was for those who have a reason to fight, like for political gain and power, defending your home and planets among the stars. However, you have never felt so alive, representing the absolute bottom of the barrel. What joy it would be to see an enemy fall from not hand-to-hand combat, not brute force, but peasant trickery. 

This is worth something.

That’s what you tell yourself. What else can you cling to? You were living for the cultivation of rice before you came here.

Horns erupt in a deep, haunting bass. The ground is shaking. Shaking with such strength that your feet stumble forward, knees scraping the grainy, white sand. Your hands bite into the sand. A guttural song emits from the speakers suddenly, the force of it hitting your chest like a bang. Your body stutters.

Your fellow no-name fighters eyes snap at your movements. Hushed chuckles erupt over the heavy bass. You feel slightly embarrassed as you quickly stumble back up and rub the grainy sand away from your knees and palms. Your eyes narrow.

This is all of your first times, all of your fellow fighters' first essential phases into proving yourself worthy to Harkonnens. Granted, you were vermin first, something to gawk at, something like cattle. As far as you heard from your briefing on the way here, this whole spectacle was based on a test round. If you pass your initial testing round, then - maybe, just maybe, you can live in comfort. There was not much more elaboration than that. Either get cut down, sliced down, gutted down -  or prosper. So why do you feel like you're the only one on edge? You’re in your head too much.

Because I might fucking die.

You swallow that thought down, burying it deep in your stomach, where it should stay.

Underneath the arena, there is a place where the Harkonnen soldiers stop - a small, enclosed burrow tucked away from sight, away from the audience members that fill the seats of the large dome-like sphere of the arena. Through the dark, enclosed area you can make out the bleached atmosphere stretched and rounded out, seeing several egg-like craniums darting up and down in the stands. Their eyes were like inky, beady pools of onyx - almost insect-like. They were thrashing in excitement, the low murmur of chatter and whooping heard.

You look around to your peers. There is nothing really notable about any of you. Dressed in meek wool, burlap, or loin cloth. Prepped with various weapon satchels latched onto waists or knees. You have no advanced shields or armour, that is true. As suicidal as that may seem against these elite brutes, It’s what you represent that really matters. The peasant trickery you have up your sleeve.

You were an only child born to common people. In the small moments, you would take to the hills with your mother and run and play. Your mother's long, flowing hair would crack like a whip against the wind behind her, in a game of “cat and mouse," as she would call it. You would try to grasp at the ends of her hair - your mother's high, sing-songy laughter echoing in the distance as you chased her.

You did not know your father - just that he was a passing tradesman who fell in love with your mother’s quirks and tenacity for adventure; in the odd breaks she could have them between planting rice grain. They spent 6 months together, you heard, and it was passionate. But he could not stay on this planet.

Your mother did not know if he was alive. But despite him leaving, she spoke fondly of him.  “He defied appearances. They thought of him as a simple, dull man in the trades, a grunt. But his intellect was his greatest secret.”

You supposed that maybe you were that small reminder of him to her, as her description of your father shadowed your mother’s slow moulding of your personality over the years. A weak, feeble rice labourer by appearances, always dressed in brown, murky colours to disappear. She did not want anyone to notice you at first glance; let that be your first safety. If they must stumble on you or pester your forgettable existence, you must keep up the act at first glance. You were scared, you were begging for your life like a common peasant. If they continue to prod and seek to damage or harm you, they would pry open the bottle of secrets that came spilling out of you in this fight-or-flight scenario.

You had a lot to learn and a lot to process as Caladan civilians. The threat of Caladan’s as well as other planets' potential hostile nature was something you were keenly aware of, a foot on your back of sorts, as you couldn’t do anything formidle to stop an enemy. 

The peasants, not permitted to use weapons or obtain shields or anything of the sort, could only offer you certain wisdom that was passed among the peoples. One they passed to your mother’s watchful eye and then onto you. They call it the peasant’s secret.

The art of dodging.

“Remember the game of cat and mouse?” You remember your mother’s voice barely over a whisper as she lay beside you one night in woolly sleeping bags on the soft greenery beneath you. The weather was hot enough to enjoy a night outside.  The flow of the river’s stream is heard against her.

You haven’t used the peasant’s secret in awhile. You primarily used it against your mother and your fellow people, as they would take turns throwing you into mock battles. They didn’t have any weapons, but they did collide, push, and throw themselves into your body at full speed, so you had to react quickly. 

They did push you to the limit. Bless them. Until you were an exhausted heap of limbs on the ground and had the wind knocked out of you.

You knew that wasn’t as valuable as practicing it against someone who genuinely wanted to kill you. You didn’t know if the peasant’s secret had successfully saved someone’s life against a brutal attack or if it was just used as a quick get-away.

So yes, you could fall into the trap of thinking you knew what you were doing when, in reality, it was based on instinct. Of course, the arena was a circle. A never-ending loop. Eventually, even though your stamina was now crafted to be well above average, you would eventually get tired. The peasant community of Caladan had a careful, pinpoint focus on the art of dodging rather than hand-to-hand combat or brute force, which made for a very interesting opponent, if you could even call it that. Most of the time, if you could, you were told to outrun them first. So your speed heavily improved. If they were just as fast, then you could begin your dance.

Now, you could finally put it to the test. To see how you fare, to see if it could actually prevent you from getting sliced and diced by the Harkonnens in the arena—albeit for a while. The main thing to keep in mind, as your mother had warned, was to keep your opponent on their toes, snapping not only their mental state but their body. Then, when the time is right, you steal their weapon and use it against them. Today you were permitted a small dagger, strapped and holstered on the outside of your thigh. Although you weren’t concerned about it, you told yourself you would use it as a last resort when they weren’t suspecting you to. You didn’t know how to dance with a weapon; you only knew how to bob and weave without one.

Count Fenring, the Siridar-Absentia of your homeworld Caladan, while the Atreides occupy the planet Arrakis, had dealings with the Harkonnens prior to your descent here. You were never meant to come here. But Count Fenring had called upon the rice labourers one day for a strange proposal. Gathering in the high-esteemed buildings and feeling out of place, your people had looked upon Count Fenring’s narrow, proud face. You knew him to be conniving and manipulative in nature, a renowned assassin, and the Emperor Shaddam’s right-hand man. He was neutral toward the labourers; as long as they kept up on the plantation of their planet’s rice, he had no issues. He would often make dealings with the noblemen and women of Caladan; it was very rare that the rice labourers were added to any conversation.

“House Harkonnen of Giedi Prime is seeking entertainment, to those willing-"  Count Fenring’s voice boomed, sitting atop his makeshift throne. 

His voice is cut off by your thoughts at the Planet’s name. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen of Giedi Prime, called your Count “The ambassador to the smugglers” in spice production. 

He continues. “I know you do not get to leave your trusted duties among the fields very often, but consider this a gift of sorts - whoever is able, and willing to be “battle entertainment” to the Na-barron of House Harkonnen, Feyd-Rautha, will be permitted to win your chance at freedom to travel to a new planet, a new experience.. You don’t ever have to return.”

An audible chorus of gasps are heard amongst your peoples. Hushed angry whispers fill the room. You gape at the vagrant display of lack of remorse for human life. You knew little, but House Harkonnen enjoyed pleasures in gore and sadism, is what you did know. What’s in it for your Count? This has to do with spice dealings.

“Freedom to die?”  a male voice questioned loudly. “You dangle freedom in the air as if House Harkonnen has any, and to dangle us in front of the Harkonnen brutes like meat!”

The crowd got louder and louder in frustration and opposition. The Count’s voice bellows as his army hits their swords to the ground in a clang to signify the rice labourers to quiet their naysayers. “Enough. To those who are not interested, you may leave. You are not forced to stay. To those that are, please remain.”

A number of your people shuffled out in a hurry, their bodies a large mass squeezing through the royal entryway. You blink. This is downright morbid.  You had never considered such a thing before, as you only knew your planet to be worthy of laying down your roots until the end of time.

You feel your mother reach for your hands. They are warm, and so is her eyes as she peers into the core of your being.

Your planet is beautiful -  access to bodies of lakes, rocky mountains, majestic trees and budding flowers, delicious rice... 

“You should go.” she mutters. “Live for us.”

Her words a grim truth. Brutal honesty. And that was enough for you.

A handful of the peasants stay alongside you. Your mother places her lips upon your cheek in a chaste kiss.  Your tear ducts well with water as her hand leaves your grasp. Somehow, you know it’s too late to turn back now. You don’t know what made you follow Count Fenring onto the ship and not look back. A chaotic chance for something other than field work? A plunge into absurdity?

You could try absurdity for a while, you decided.

#feyd rautha harkonnen #2nd pov #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #dune fanfiction #house harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd #dune x reader #dune x you #pov second person #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fanfic #dune fanfic #dune imagine #fanfic #my writing #dune part 2 #dune part two #x reader #female reader #oc reader #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x oc #feyd rautha x y/n #fanfiction #feyd rautha x fem!reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader

[mist-see]

Everlasting sleep.

Part 2 (final) of you don’t deserve mercy.

Thank you guys for the love and support. Honestly, I was not expecting for it too blow up 💀 it was about 2am when I posted it and it went crazy, i love it.

Quaritch vs na’vi reader

Enjoy.

⚠️warning⚠️

Mention of blood, death, happy about dying, signs of grief and depression.

“Okay, okay. She-ri, you listen?” You panted out, taking cold breaths through your nose, and releasing hot ones out your mouth. You tasted so much iron. You didn’t know it, but your tongue had a thick layer of blood.

Your ikran huffed out, confirming your words. You nodded, swallowing what you thought was spit. “I am going to let go, I’m going to release our bond. And you will release the man, on the sand.”

She-ri screeched in disagreement. “Do not argue with me…I want you to go home… back to the trees, find my…my parents…” you stopped speaking, getting harder for you to do so. You couldn’t finish your sentence, vision blurry, mind flashing with memories. “I can feel it…” you got off the balls of your feet, and settled onto the back of your ikran.

Wheezing heavily, your red eyes stared up at the sky, beautiful bright sky with little to no clouds. This light blue darkened, as the planet above us covers our sun, Alpha Centauri.

Eclipse.

This is how you’d join Neteyam. This is how you join Eywa. Beautiful.

Aurora polaris. You felt yourself smile, pretty lips pulling above your bloodied teeth as you watch the green, purple and blue lights swirl around in the sky. You wish you could’ve said goodbye to your mother, your father. To the sullys, the family that took you in.

“I go now… I go..” She-ri screamed in pain, wanting someone to come save her bond. The people in your ear heard this from where they stood, calling your name, asking you where you were. But you didn’t care.

You didn’t want to be saved.

Weak arm coming up, with the last strength you had, you ripped the speaking device off your necklace, then next was the ear rig. Then next, was the tsaheylu that caused your sister pain. You sighed in relief, braid in hand.

“Goodbye, riri.”you whispered, maroon eyes sliding in the back of your head as your body slid down the right of your bond.

The air was cold, but it felt good. Your body was heating up, burning, hotter than normal as it tried to fight death. But it wasn’t enough, you didn’t want it to be enough.

You were fine. In months, you were finally happy.

As you fell to the ocean, you took your last breath, eyes barely open, looking at the beautiful sky you’d be returning to.

“Who is that… is that- She-ri!” Lo’ak yelled, eyes wide as the lonely ikran flew sporadically, wings flying wide, coming into a halt before she could clash into Lo’ak and his bond.

“What?!- where is she?? Dad?!” He noticed the lack of presence that should be you, instead there was an ikran with blood splattered on its saddle, where you should be.

“Father?!” He yelled, two fingers on his speaking device.

“I got her Lo’ak… I got her.”

The young boy breathed out a relieved sigh, a smile breaking out on his face. “Okay-okay good, where are you?? I’m come-!” Brows crashing together- Lo’ak held on close to his ikran, his backing up as yours hissed and growled.

“Dad… what’s going on?” The boy asked, pulling away from the panicked animal.

“Come to shore my son… the one we came to the first day we arrived.”

He hated the way his father sounded. That was the same disappointed- monotoned voice he had when his brother died. “Dad-“ “Lo’ak, now!”

Giving the ikran across from him a cautioned look, he flew around her, she followed, knowing where he was going.

Jake stared down at your empty eyes, breath slightly off from pulling you up to the sand.

The man looked at where the human boy slouched a few feet away, where the sky demon laid eerily.

You did that, you killed him. Sacrificing yourself.

Another innocent soul dying for his family.

Toruk Makto felt pathetic. You weren’t supposed to die this way… no, not for the sake of his family, he was the one who should’ve been like this.

You were supposed to return home after Neteyams funeral, but you stayed, you couldn’t bare the thought of not seeing him at your spirit tree, you had to stay.

Never smiling as you helped rebuild the surrounding villages, never laughing, not even a look of anger or shame. You were dead way before you took your last breath, and Jake Sully knew that.

Yellow eyes scanned your features, looking for any type of signs that you could possibly be alive after giving you cpr, but you gave him nothing. Maybe this was good, he tried to convince himself. You were no longer happy, always forcing yourself to be busy, barely eating, taking quick naps, never enjoying sleep. This had to be a good thing. You were now at peace.

Everlasting sleep.

You gave him nothing, except for the small smile on your face as you returned home.

To your mate, to the great mother.

<<<<<part one

#black!reader #dom!reader #avatar quaritch #quaritch x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar angst #avatar spoilers #avatar the way of water #spider sully #jake sully x y/n #jake sully #loak sully #loak x reader

[dwarfsized]

10 characters/10 fandoms/10 tags

the always amazing @aevallare tagged me <3 sooooo:

Astarion Ancunin (Baldur's Gate 3) - getting the obvious one out of the way early. you put a character in front of me who gets mad at you for being good and kind because no one has ever been that to him, who is a bitch and that's a feature not a bug, and im not supposed to become deeply obsessed with that? he is everything. to me.

Gideon Nav (The Locked Tomb) - tamsyn muir WHEN will my wife come back from the war? Devotion even when you hate it. Being a weapon in more ways than even you are aware of. Love when you don't know what love is, really, getting it wrong and right at the same time. Gideon @ Harrow is just "its rotten work. especially to me especially if its you. i'll fucking do it but christ alive."

Murderbot (The Murderbot Diaries) - i think i am one of the only people who thinks that Murderbot is on the fem-presenting side of androgynous but i do think that and i'm right. I haven't read the latest book yet. Being forced to interrogate an in-between space, Murderbot's "dont look at me" in combination with vulnerability, the desire to cut and run and figure yourself out and then, like. not actually figuring yourself out much. did the running help? did escaping do anything? or should you have stayed?

Stede Bonnet (Our Flag Means Death) - Cringefail fuck-up pirate my beloved, i hate watching him do things it's like looking in a mirror. Theater kid playing dress up, steeped in self-doubt and trying to get everyone to talk about their feelings. In season one he looks at his own life and says "is anyone going to ruin this?" and doesn't wait for an answer. I want to kiss him in the moonlight. Every time I think about him I want to throw up. <3

Keyleth (Critical Role) - The weight of the world on her shoulders because she's been raised to lead her people, and all that simmering rage she tries to keep under wraps, and then she only gets a tiny bit of time with the person she loves before she has to live for years and years and years and watch everyone she cares about leave her. Archdruids with timeless body are an existential nightmare.

Alex Louis Armstrong (Fullmetal Alchemist) - okay listen. when i rewatched fmab in college, I was fully ready to fall in love with Riza. I was very surprised when I realized that it was not the badass with the gun I was fixated on, but the. big muscle-y guy who cries a lot and gets used for comic relief 60% of the time. but. im here. i love him. the ishval flashbacks got to me.

Blue (This is How You Lose the Time War) - Loving someone enough you're willing to let them close enough to kill you. The inherent rot beneath blooming things. Taking the slow path. Not leaving well enough alone. Love, but with teeth. I'm so normal about her (lying)

Cora Sabino (Noumena Series) - I wish I could tell everyone to read Axiom's End because I loved it, but I cant because the sequel fucked me up so bad. Its good! but god the atmosphere is so oppressive and Cora's struggle with depression is extremely real for an alternate history story that asks the question "what if we found out aliens were real during the bush administration?" I was legitimately unwell.

Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars) - I just think he's the funniest guy with a laser sword. so repressed. had one of the most grey-jedi masters to ever do the damn thing. bitchy. the chosen one is his padawan. honestly he had to know anakin was sneaking out to canoodle with padme and just decided it wasn't his problem. calls himself fucking ben on the hell sand planet. why was he like that.

Spock (Star Trek) - this is the most "i just think he's neat" of all of them. i inherited this blorbo. this blorbo was handed down to me from my mom. he was hers first, im just picking up the torch. "guy who acts like he has no emotions but every seven years enters a fuck or die frenzy" im sorry but that's. that's too good. i have no choice but to rotate him in my mind.

I cannot tag 10 people but i will tag @asterordinary and @werewolfnobody and if anyone else wants to do it go for it! tag me so i can read your response!

#this was so difficult but it was fun! #tag game

[backcauseimboreddd]

The Book of Boba Fett fanrewrite. Chapter 1. The Daimyo of Tatooine

Summary: A simple retelling of TBOBF I wrote to improve my writting. Doesn’t include any exciting plot changes (yet). But feel free to read if you like reading devoloping writers and (hopefully) seeing them improve.  Tw: Mentions of r*cism, Mentions of s*xism, D*ath, M*rder.

A/n: This is the first fanfic I’ve posted in years so please be kind to me lol. Also not a native english speaker and dyslexic so fair warning. Super thankfull for any interactions and lmk if you wanna become moots!!! ((: <3

Not a single word was uttered as Bib Fortunas lifeless corpse laid on the palace floor. Both staff and patrons alike stared upon the throne in the center of the room, as Boba Fett took his seat. It had been years since Han Solos escape, and as daimyo Bib had made sure to let all of Tatooine know of both Jabbas, and Fetts perishing during the ordeal. In all fairness it had seemed like Fett for sure was finished when he got swallowed by the sarlacc, and telling people that you survived the same fight that claimed the life of what might have been the galaxys fearces bounty hunter, served Bib well while establishing himself as the new crime lord of the small desert planet. However, Boba Fett was never the one to count out. Thanks to stone hard determination and his beskar armor set, was Boba Fett able to escape the belly of the monstrous beast. It took some time to get his bearings back, and he wasn’t any longer the man he once was, but the moment he had escaped the jaws of Tatooines feared sarlacc, he knew what he needed to do. If he was no longer going to be the galaxys most esteemed bounty hunter, he would become its most respected crime lord.

Jabbas throne was big, Not shocking as it was designed for a Hutt. As Boba Fett leaned back making himself comfortable in it. Fennec Shand leaned on to one of its oversized armrests. Fennec was a highly regarded bounty hunter in her own right, but following a fight with another famed Mandalorian she too had suffered serious injuries. Maybe it was finding each other during such vulnerable times, that was what led Boba and Fennec to grow so fond of one another. Fond might be a bit too strong of a word for their relationship. They did not go to pod races together, they didn’t spend their weekends trying to sober up and drag the other one out of the cantina after one too many drinks. No, they simply shared some similar experiences. Experiences that though not being rare amongst their profession, were rare to be shown sympati for. Especially from another bounty hunter. But thanks to this understanding between them, Boba and Fennec were committed to together reach their goal of taking charge of the criminal underworld of the little speck of sand in the Outer Rims known as Tattoine.

“Listen up, you all work for me now”. Bobas voice took hold of the room with the same force as the man himself had just minutes earlier as he blasted his way in and killed daimyo Bib Fortuna. Violence being an inherent part of life in Mos Espa had preemptively prepared the palaces workers for this scenario. Violence equals power equals control. And it was clear to all that Boba Fett was the one in control right now. “You there! Clean this up”. The new daimyo yelled at a Gamorrean guard while casually waving his boot in the direction of his predecessors corpse. The green pig-like creature picked up the body of the man he had been serving under for the past five years and walked through the palace all without showing a single emotion. The light of the twin suns simmered into the corridor windows as the appointed guard walked his way out to the backside of the infamous castle of crime. “Hrrkg”. It’s hard to tell the difference between a Gamorrean sighing and speaking, and even when he was alive Bib had never bothered to learn it. Neither had Jabba. Talking to themselves had become normal for the guards. Indifferently the forest colored alien through his former bosses corpse down the edge of the cliff on which the palace was built. The desert heat scorching the lifeless body at the bottom of the ravine. “To the rest of you, I want this place looking respectable for your new daimyo ones I return”. Boba ordered sternly as he got out of the throne he’d just claimed, walking out to the streets of Mos Espa with Fennec at his side. 

“So what now”? He asked in a noticeably softer tone. “We make our rounds, let the people of Tatooine meet their new ruler”. Fennec answered, focused. The whispers were so many that they together sounded like shouts. Everyone had something to say as the famed and long presumed dead bounty hunter made his way through town. “No way. It’s an imposter, it has to be”. “Mom, mom!!! Who is that”? It was clear that no matter how hard the people tried to keep on with what they were doing, the return of Boba Fett had everyone on edge. Overhearing the curious kid questioning their mother, Boba made his way over to them leaning down to face the child. The youth stared into the sightline of the mandalorian mask. “I am Boba Fett”. He declared with an unusually warm voice before standing back up. “...And I am the new daimyo of Tatooine”! He declared for all bystanders to hear now in a much harsher tone. The same silence that had fallen in the palace was now to be found on the main street of Mos Espa. But unlike earlier at the palace, Boba was not the one to break the silence.  

“Hahaha”. A loud and boastful laughter was the only thing heard as the people of Tatooine stood frozen in fear and suspense. Turning around to see who would dare to disrespect him like that Boba saw an older man standing tall and unwavering in the self proclaimed crime lords presence. “This planet hasn’t had a real daimyo since Hutt. Fortuna might not be half as influential as Jabba but if you think he’s going to allow you to walk around his streets for another hour you’re-“. “Bib Fortuna was shot dead by Boba Fett this afternoon”. Fennec interrupted assertively. The man looked noticeably less smug. But that did not stop him from talking back to the two legendary bounty hunters. “He only controlled a third of the territories, good luck taking on the families”. The continued back talk started to get on Bobas nerves. He took a sturdy step towards the mouthy man. “They will submit, or they will die. Just like the rest of you”. Bobas voice once again captivated the crowd. “Understood”? He asked, staring down the heckler. “Yes, my daimyo”. He replied, while looking away from the green and red helmet covering the face of the man that had just claimed his home planet. Without saying a word Boba and Fennec went back to walking down the same busy street, just as full but almost completely quiet this time.  

As the pair continued their round they got to downtown Mos Espa. The rumors of Boba Fett having returned, and laid claim to areas belonging to his former employer Jabba the Hutt were already spreading across the town. Being an effective and influential daimyo not only meant that one should be respected by ordinary citizens, but also by the other prominent figures of the community. It was for that reason Fennec and Boba deemed Sanctuary as their next stop. Sanctuary, as the name might imply, was one of the few peaceful places at the center of Tatooine. The casino managed to be the only place where people could drink and gamble without it escalating into blaster fights and bar brawls. The fact that Sanctuary managed to become the actual sanctuary that it was, was all thanks to one woman, Madam Garsa Fwip. Garsa was an abnormality in the criminal underworld. An established and respected Twi'lek woman was not the norm among cantina owners. In fact many of them shared a saying, “Twi’lek girls belong on the poles or on their knees”. The fact that she ran such a profitable and well managed business in spite of the racism and sexism she faced might have been what led the people to realize just how tough she really was. 

Warm and hospital feel from the live band playing Space Jizz and customers chatting could make just about anyone feel relaxed. Boba unconsciously relaxed his armored clad shoulders as he and Fennec walked into Sanctuary. Through the bustling bar crowd Madam Fwip effortlessly stood out. Thanks to both a tall and slender build, as well as a pair of heels expensive enough to rival that of a queen or a senator, the two directly laid eyes on her. And she, on them. The cantina owner made her way to greet her establishment's newest guest. “Lord Fett”. She said doing curtsy to the man. No one could argue that Boba Fetts presence wasn’t huge. But in actuality he, and the rest of the clones of Jango Fett stod quite short. The pink hued Twi’lek stood above him, but that did not hinder her from treating him as her superior. Letting men feel in power around her was something Garsa was used to. And it had come to serve her well, no matter how often it could feel demeaning. Why reveal a strong hand when your opponent already deems it weak. “Please, allow us to clean your helmets. On the house of course. Two other Twi'leks, one green and the other blue, relieved Boba and Fennec of their helmets and walked away to clean them.

This was the first time the new daimyo had been without his mask since taking his title. Though aged and somewhat scared there was no mistaking that he was who he said he was. Even though he often had kept his helmet on, his face was still known across the galaxies. Not so surprising since he shared that face with every other clone issued by the former jedi republic. “I presume you’re here to inform me of the new normal around things now that you are the one in charge, let's go to my office”. Garsa led them up a teal colored spiral staircase to the casinos upper floor. The stairs led up to a room filled with tables with people playing sabacc and other games designed to make them lose as much money as possible as fast as possible. “Here”. The hostess stopped in front of a cream colored door that had blended into the wall until she pointed it out. “Will she join us?” She asked, gesturing towards Fennec. “She will”. Boba answered concisely as they made their way into Garsas office.   

The room was quiet. For what seemed like pretty thin walls, they isolated sound surprisingly well. At the very end of her office Garsa had a sturdy desk set up with a chair on each side. However at the center stood a lower table with two sofas facing each other. She laid down in one of these sofas, as Boba and Fennec took a seat in the other. “Tell me daimyo, what will life under your rule be like?” The Twi’lek woman asked. For someone not leading the discussion she sure knew how to take charge of it. “All that I ask is that you respect me as your boss, and that you pay your taxes”. Boba established. “Well that won’t be a problem. Serving under anyone other than Fortuna is an improvement”. Garsa replied with a small giggle. Unmoved by the attempt to stroke his ego, Boba Fett continued laying out the conditions on which he planned to rule. “What percentage did you pay him?” “Ten, but he raised it to twelve not too long ago. We’ll be earning you hundreds of thousands of credits a month, no need to worry Lord Fett”. Garsa ensured, proud of running one Tatooines most profitable businesses that didn’t involve freezing people in carbonite. “It’s getting raised again, from now on you’ll be paying twenty”. Boba stated. “Ehh.. Lord Fett, I’m sorry but… with all due respect I don’t see why’d you need that. The money that doesn’t go to your pocket goes back into this place, to ensure that it’ll grow even more profitable for you”. Madam Fwip stutterd shocked by the demands that had been made on her and her business. “Boba Fett is the one who owns this place, just as he is the one who owns the rest of Mos Espa. You are to follow his demands and be grateful he allows you to be in charge of such an important venture of his”. Fennec said without raising her voice. It’s not like that was something a top assassin like her needed to do to get their point across. And across it got. Biting her tongue Garsa Fwip nodded as she accepted the new terms she and her cantina were to serve under. She followed the two out as they got their newly clean and almost shiny helmets back. Fennec walked out first, giving the daimyo and his new subject a short moment for themself. “I’m sure serving under you will be a pleasure Lord Fett”. Garwsa said with a smirk balancing the line between ironic and flirty. “Thank you Madam Fwip, I promise you and the rest of Tatooine are going to fare well under the rule of Boba Fett”.

#the book of boba fett #tbobf #tbobf fanfiction #boba fett #temura morrison #fennec shand #ming na wen #star wars #the mandalorian #fanfic #fanfiction #tatooine #sci fi #mob fanfic #mob #crime fanfic #crime #disney + #new writter #lets be moots #lets be mutuals #need moots #need mutuals #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #madam garsa #garsa fwip #bib fortuna #lol he's really named bib

[samwisethewitch]

Tapping Into Your Psychic Senses

Every single person on the planet has psychic abilities, but most people never realize that they’re using them. As Tess Whitehurst says in her book You Are Magical, “There is almost certainly something you assume that everyone can perceive that is actually a perception that is relatively unique to you.”

For example: you may be a gifted artist. Drawing and painting come naturally to you, and you have an intuitive sense of form and color. You probably know people who claim that they “don’t have an artistic bone in their body” or “can’t even draw a stick figure,” but you can’t bring yourself to believe it. Surely, those people are just psyching themselves out, because if art comes so easily to you, everyone must be able to do it to some extent, right?

Psychic abilities are similar. You’ve probably been tapping into at least one psychic sense all your life, but it feels so normal to you that you assume everyone experiences the world this way.

Once you become aware of your innate psychic abilities, you can start to harness them. For this reason, I think it’s a good idea to become familiar with (and comfortable using!) your natural psychic gifts before you try to learn any kind of divination.

Read over the following list of common psychic senses. Does one or more of them sound familiar? Once you recognize which of these you resonate with, focus on strengthening that gift over the next couple of weeks. You’ll be amazed by how easily you’re able to tap into it once you know how!

Clairvoyance: Clear Seeing

Contrary to popular opinion, the word “clairvoyance” does not describe any and all psychic abilities. Someone with clairvoyance receives psychic messages through their sense of sight. They may see these messages with their physical eyes, or see images in their mind’s eye. Seeing auras is an example of clairvoyance in action.

You may be clairvoyant if…

You often see flashes of light, blurred figures, or other visual phenomena that others do not see. [Note: This is NOT the same as visual hallucinations. Clairvoyants typically see things with their mind’s eye, not their physical eyes, and can differentiate between their visions and what is physically in front of them.]

You often experience random mental images that seem to have nothing to do with what’s going on around you.

Your meditations are primarily visual — for example, if you meditate on the element of water, you may see a bubbling fountain in your mind’s eye.

You are a visual learner.

Ways to Strengthen Clairvoyance

Keep a journal of the mental images you receive “out of nowhere.” Do these images mean anything to you? Do individual visions fit into a larger pattern?

Meditate on the energy systems in your body, starting from the feet and working up to the crown of the head. What does your energy look like? Are the colors bright and clear, or more faded and muddy? Does the energy move quickly, or is it slow and sluggish? Are there certain areas of your body where the energy seems to be tied up or stuck? How does its appearance correspond to your life? 

Do research into auras and what the different aura colors mean. Do you always seem to see or think of a certain color when you’re around a certain person? How does that color represent that person’s energy and personality? Write down your findings.

Clairaudience: Clear Hearing

Someone with clairaudience receives psychic messages through their sense of hearing. They may hear messages with their physical ears or “hear” them in their mind. A medium who hears spirits is an example of someone using clairaudience.

You may be clairaudient if…

You sometimes “hear” things in your mind, as if someone else was talking to you from inside your head. [Note: This is NOT the same as “hearing voices” or auditory hallucinations. Clairaudients usually “hear” messages with their mind, not their physical ears, and they can distinguish between psychic messages and physical, “real world” sounds.]

Sometimes, when you listen to music or watch a movie, a specific lyric or line of dialogue seems to jump out at you, as if it were a special message.

Your meditations are primarily auditory — for example, if you meditate on the element of water, you may hear a babbling brook.

You are an auditory learner.

Ways to Strengthen Clairaudience

Keep a journal of the messages you “hear” out of nowhere. Are they consistent, forming a larger pattern? Do they all seem to be “in the same voice,” or coming from the same source? (If so, this could be a deity or spirit guide reaching out to you.)

Do a meditation with the intention of holding a conversation with a helpful spirit guide. (If you are not comfortable working with spirits, you can set the intention of speaking to your inner self.) What does their voice sound like? Is it different from or similar to your own? Do they speak with an accent or have a unique inflection? Write down your thoughts.

Experiment with shufflemancy. This is a modern form of divination where you put a playlist on shuffle and receive a psychic message from the song that plays first. (You can find playlists specifically made for shufflemancy online, or make your own.) How does the song make you feel? Are there certain lyrics that jump out to you? Write down your thoughts.

Clairsentience: Clear Feeling

Someone with clairsentience feels psychic messages, either through their body or through their emotions. They may feel physical sensations, like an upset stomach, or may be very sensitive to emotional energies. Intuitively picking up on someone’s emotions without needing to ask is an example of clairsentience.

You may be clairsentient if…

You often feel physical sensations, like a hot flash or a cold chill, out of nowhere.

You are able to feel other people’s emotions — you can always tell when someone has had a bad day, even if they’re trying to hide it.

You can sense the “vibe” of a room as soon as you walk in. Do certain buildings feel “angry” or “sad” to you? Can you always tell the energy of a party even if you just arrived?

Your meditations primarily focus on tactile sensations — for example, if you meditate on the element of water, you may feel waves lapping at your feet.

Ways to Strengthen Clairsentience

Pay attention to your “gut feelings.” Do you feel a sinking sensation when thinking about something, only for it to go badly later? Do you feel a warm, fuzzy sensation thinking about something, only for it to go really well? Write down your experiences — and be honest. It’s okay if your gut feeling doesn’t always match the outcome.

Do a pathworking meditation (this is just a type of meditation that focuses on taking a mental journey) to a forest, or a beach, or some other location that appeals to you. Try to feel as many tactile sensations as possible, as if you were really there. Feel the grass or sand under your feet, feel the wind in your hair, feel the sun on your skin. Write down your experience.

Practice feeling the energy of a plant or crystal. Reach out and touch the plant/crystal, and try to feel it out. Does it have a calm, stable energy, or is it more bright and zingy? Try feeling a different plant/crystal and see how it feels different. Write down your experience.

Note: Some (but not all) clairsentients are also empaths, people who take on the emotions of others as if they were their own. All empaths are clairsentient, but not all clairsentient people are empaths. You may be an empath if you often find yourself matching the emotions of the people you’re around — you cry when they cry, laugh when they laugh, etc.

Claircognizance: Clear Knowing

Claircognizence is the gift of psychic knowing — people with this ability often “just know” things, even if they should have no way of knowing. They may know what someone is about to say before they say it, or know personal information about someone they just met.

You may be claircognizant if…

You “just know” what’s going on with your friends and family, even if they haven’t told you. For example, you may suddenly feel like you need to call your sister, only to find out after you call that she just broke up with her boyfriend.

You always know who a text is from as soon as your phone dings, or always know what song is going to play next on shuffle.

You often know things about new people as soon as you meet them, only for them to confirm it later. Did you know your friend was a vegetarian before he told you, even though you’d never shared a meal with him?

Your meditations often include “downloads” of information, where you feel like the answer to your question or some other revelation has just been dropped into your brain.

Ways to Strengthen Claircognizance

Every time your phone goes off, try to guess who the message is from. Keep a tally of how often you’re right vs. wrong.

Do a meditation with the intention of receiving the answer to a specific question. Retreat to a place of stillness and focus on your breath until the answer to the question “just comes to you.” Write down your experience.

This is a game I used to play with my sister before I knew what claircognizance was: have a friend show you a picture of someone they know, but whom you have never met before. Focus on the picture, and see if you get any info about the person — are they a jock? Do they like rock music? What’s their personality like? Get your friend to confirm or deny the info you got from the picture, and keep a tally of how often you’re right vs. wrong.

The Other Clairs

There are two other “clair” senses that are less common, so I’m not going to talk about them at length here. Clairalience, or “clear smelling,” refers to receiving psychic messages through smell. (If you smell roses out of nowhere, with no roses in sight, you may be using clairalience.) Clairgustance, or “clear tasting,” refers to receiving psychic messages through taste. (If you taste chocolate out of nowhere, you may be using claigustance.)

In my experience, these psychic senses are less common than the ones listed above. Most people I know who have clairalience or clairgustance seem to use it as a secondary sense, in addition to a primary sense like clairvoyance or clairsentience.

Conclusion

You are probably using at least one of these psychic senses every day, without even knowing it. Most people have two to three “main” psychic senses, but some may regularly and easily use all of them. For example, my primary psychic senses are clairsentience and claircognizance, but I also find myself receiving messages through clairaudience fairly often. It’s rare for me to receive clairvoyant messages, but it has happened.

Once you’ve identified the psychic senses that you naturally lean towards, you can begin to develop and strengthen them.

Resources:

You Are Magical by Tess Whitehurst [Specifically the chapter, “Reading the Signs.”]

The Fat Feminist Witch Podcast, Episode 68: “Clear Knowing”

The Angel Code by Chantel Lysette [Specifically the section on the psychic senses.]

#baby witch bootcamp #baby witch #witch #witchcraft #witchblr #magic #magick #psychic #psychic abilities #clairvoyant #clairaudience #clairsentient #claircognizant #empath #empathy #medium #mediumship #divination #divination witch #tarot #oracle cards #fortune telling #astrology #long post #mine #my writing

[elminx]

Happy August!

August is a 4 Universal month (8 (August) + 5 (2021) = 13 = 1 + 3 = 4) in a 5 universal year. With both Venus and Mars currently transiting Virgo, the energy is strong this month to get organized and/or get yourself back on track for your 2021 goals.

The setup: Saturn in Aquarius and Uranus in Taurus are still square to one another and will be through December and into 2022. Pluto in Capricorn, Jupiter in Aquarius, and Neptune in Pisces are lined up ~30 degrees apart from each other. We have four plants plus an asteroid retrograde throughout August: Jupiter, Saturn, Neptune, Pluto, and Chiron. This signifies a more "yin" energy signature that is out of alignment with the forceful fire energy of Leo season.

The TL:DR: As the Sun and Mercury transit Leo, they are going to relight up our fixed t-square involving Saturn and Uranus early in the month. You may be able to break through the big blocks in your life during this time but only if you can step away from your ego. This month is full of mixed messages and misunderstandings - we are all trying to figure out our new lives right now, give yourself and your others a metric fuckton of space. The work you put into your life is what you will get back out of it - go slow and keep putting one foot in front of the other. Expecting expedited results is a recipe for disaster.

There's a lot going on in the cosmos this month - there's rarely a day that is aspect-free and they are, for the most part, challenging. This has to do with our lineup of outer planets - see the details for more information.

The Nitty Gritty:

As we enter August, our Sun-Mercury conjunction is lighting up our long-term square between Saturn in Aquarius and Uranus in Taurus. This is our unstoppable force (Uranus) meets immovable object (Saturn) energy. Something has got to give to make way for the After. Much of how August plays out for you will likely be dictated by how you have been working with and processing this long-term aspect.

If 2020's motto was "Change Before You Have To", this Saturn-Uranus square is the "Have To". Uranus is the lightning on the Tower card - the change that is unavoidable. All you can control is how you react to the change.

Yeah, that's probably a terrifying concept. I get it. But I also firmly believe that when you stand aware in the middle of the maelstrom, that's where the true magic happens. In the moment of liminality, anything is possible.

August is the maelstrom. This shouldn't really come as a surprise but I guess that some people have their heads really far inside the sands. The storm never ended, we just got a brief reprieve. I hope that you all took good advantage of it - I know that I did.

For the rest of the month, all of our personal planets will be making complicated aspects to our outer planets - this is because of the angles. It's definitely echoing the roller coaster vibe of 2021's "5" energy - you'll see that continue next month as September is a 5 month in a 5 year.

Expect epic highs and abysmal lows. Probably to have your stomach drop out from under you at least once. There's a lot going on, try to harness Mars in Virgo's ability to roll with it and worry about figuring out the details later. Mars in Virgo is very in line with August's 4 energy: make a list but keep it open-ended, show up and do the work. Amanda of Wise Skies Advice called this month "Focus Pocus" and I'm in agreement there - what you focus on grows.

There's a lot of magic to be found in August, but you need to keep your focus. If you get wrapped up in your emotions, or worse, the rising collective fear, it will be easy to lose your way. Don't feed the monster. This is especially true for empaths and other highly sensitive persons.

Dates to Pay Attention To

8/1: Sun conjunct Mercury in Leo, Mercury opposed Saturn - thoughts will be very close to the surface and potentially heavy. Watch out for the stories you tell yourself, especially about Saturnian topics: government, contracts, money, marriage - this will be in effect all through the first week of August and through the new moon

8/2: Sun opposed Saturn, Moon square Mars - this is likely to be a frustrating day. Where do you need to slow down? Where have you been pushing in a direction that is only resistance?

8/3: Venus trine Uranus, Moon square Venus - the anecdote to this malaise is to try something new

8/6: Sun square Uranus - watch out. Lie low. Stay away with explosives - observe that physically as well as metaphorically. Where is your ego getting in the way of what you need?

8/8: New Moon at 16 Leo conjunct Mercury - Depending on how comfortable you are with Mercury energy, this moon may feel enlightening or anxiety-making. Practice good self-care - soothe your system with calming crystals or nervine tea if you need to.

8/9: Venus opposed Neptune retrograde: that lie may come due today - watch out for dishonesty, especially with yourself

8/10: Mercury opposed Jupiter retrograde: What is your inner truth? What do you believe? Does it align with what you know now? What needs to be re-evaluated? Again, how you perceive this will likely have a lot to do with your relationship with Mercury.

8/11: Mercury enters Virgo, Venus trine Pluto retrograde - Mercury is at home in Virgo - expect communication to become more orderly and precise over the next three weeks. The Divine Feminine may be experiencing a rebirth at this time.

8/14: Moon in Scorpio square Saturn retrograde in Aquarius - this lights up that Saturn-Uranus square...again. Watch out, friction is likely to be high.

8/16: Venus enters Libra, Moon square Mercury, Moon square Mars - Venus is at home in the sign of Libra, expect some of our focus to be on our relationships (of all kinds) during this transit. The energy of the day will likely be volatile and moody. Both your words and your actions may be misunderstood at this time - exercise caution.

8/17 Sun in Leo trine Moon in Sag, Moon square Neptune retrograde - a lovely fire trine but watch out for illusions - all that glitters may not be gold

8/18: Mercury conjunct Mars in Virgo - work for it. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Slow and steady wins this race.

8/19: Sun opposed Jupiter retrograde, Uranus retrograde at 14 Taurus, Moon conjunct Pluto - The energy is likely to feel at once larger than life and impossibly deep. Whether you enjoy this will have a lot to do with your personality and comfort levels. It's always wise to go slow when a major planet like Uranus retrograde but Sun opposed Jupiter may not let us do that.

8/20: Mercury trine Uranus, Moon trine Venus, Moon conjunct Saturn - you might get flashes of insight at this time but it is unlikely that you will be able to implement them just yet. Hold tight. This day also lights up our Saturn-Uranus square - stay aware and cautious. Avoid arguments.

8/22: Full Moon at 29 Aquarius, Mars trine Uranus, Sun enters Virgo - this is wildcard energy, engage with care. This again activates our Saturn-Uranus square - stay aware and stay cautious.

8/23: Venus trine Saturn retrograde, Moon opposed Mars, Moon conjunct Neptune retrograde- emotions, especially around close relationships, are likely close to the surface. You may not have all of the information or may be lying to yourself.

8/24: Mercury opposed Neptune retrograde: another big reveal - watch the news, listen carefully to what the people in your life are saying

8/25: Moon in Aries opposed Venus in Libra - moooooody. Remember great things happen when you stop being a moody cow. Give your others a break.

8/26: Mercury trine Pluto retrograde, Venus in Libra opposed Chiron retrograde in Aries - the new message is one of independence and accountability, do you hear it yet? What part of you needs to be reborn to get you on track?

8/27: Moon conjunct Uranus, Moon square Saturn: the moon activates our square again today - same old - be cautious - this is happening 4x every month right now, it's not "new news" just something to stay aware of

8/29: Mercury enters Libra: this isn't a great placement for Mercury. The idea of giving two sides equal air time without account for its truthfulness is a failing of Mercury in Libra thinking. Watch out for overthinking and analysis paralysis.

Do you like my work? Please consider supporting my writing by Buying Me A KoFi.

#witchblr #words #mine #energy update #astrology #transits #August 2021 #Leo season #Saturn square Uranus #healing through astrology #numerology

[amphxtrite]

sylvie laufeydottir x fem!reader

warnings: lots of fluff, fast paced.

summary: sylvie meets a beautiful dancer while resting on a planet about to meet it’s end.

word count: 1.4k

song: runaway by aurora

hope you enjoy!

———————————————————————————

Sylvie sighs as she pulls her cloak tighter around her and clutches the reset charge close to her body entering the time door in front of her. She was absolutely exhausted after her last few attacks of the minutemen and vigorous jumping around the timeline, so she figured she would stop by an apocalypse that still had a little time before its demise to rest.

Sylvie steps into the opening of an underground shelter on Trio Imus-4 in the year 3038. The planet was in the middle of an interplanetary war with another world and on the losing end, Sylvie predicted she could have a good couple of days here, and if she laid low the TVA wouldn’t be able to detect her before she fled. A green glimmer coats her body as her headpiece fades, a bag appears on her back and her armour is well covered by another cloak, before she knocks on the door.

“Hello? P-Please is anyone there?” She chokes out in her most pleaful voice.

A couple moments go by when a woman and a man emerge with holstered weapons, staring curiously at her.

“May I come in? M-My family died on the journey to find you, I have no one left.” She murmurs, shivering the wind.

The two look at the young Sylvie with pity and nod as they stand aside.

“Come on in, you’ll be safe here.” The man whispers. 

“Oh thank you.” Sylvie smiles, happily entering and following the two further into the shelter.

Almost too easy, she smirks.

The distant sound of chatter eventually grows into a clear hum as she enters the main living area, Sylvie scans the space as she finds an empty area to sit and finally rests.

A sigh of relief leaves her lips as she collapses and feels her eyes begin to droop, reaching into her conjured, travellers bag she holds her dagger and new reset charge in a tight grip and allows unconsciousness to pull her into the sweet abyss.

“Hey, wake up and have something to eat, you’ve been knocked out  for a while.” A soft voice chimes from above her. The woman who let Sylvie in hands her a small loaf of bread and a bowl of what looked to be soup. “It’s not much, but it will help you keep your strength up.” She smiles.

Sylvie’s eyes widen as she takes the warm meal into her hands, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been shown such kindness.

“Thank you...” She murmurs, looking up in awe at the woman.

“Please, call me Urith.” She smiles, walking back over, to who Sylvie assumed to be her husband.

Looking back down at the food in her grasp, the blonde takes a deep breath in and gratefully begins eating, the warm feeling in her stomach felt so nice after countless cold nights, and she debated going to ask Urith for more when she was finished, but decided against it at the sight of the hungry children around her.

For a couple moment the runaway, felt at peace, almost tranquil at the almost homey feeling of the small shelter, one by one the children were filling up on Urith’s soup and then rushing over somewhere just out of Sylvie’s vision, it didn’t seem like anything at first, but after every child ran over in the same direction, she began to grow confused.

And then she heard it.

Singing.

“I was listening to the ocean, I saw a face in the sand, but when I picked it up then it vanished away from my hands, down.”

Sylvie’s ears prick up and she glances over to see the children sitting around a woman’s feet.

“I had a dream, I was seven, climbing my way in a tree, I saw a piece of heaven waiting impatient for me, down.” Her body began to move unconsciously, standing and slowly shuffling towards the almost ethereal voice pulling her in.

“And I was running far away. Would I run off the world someday? Nobody knows Nobody knows, and…”

Sylvie spots you, a beautiful maiden clad in a cream coloured gown, slightly dirty from the dust, but still absolutely beautiful.

“I was dancing in the rain, I felt alive and I can't complain.” You continued, swaying around, twirling and smiling as the children clapped and Sylvie watched from a distance.

“But now take me home. Take me home where I belong, I can't take it anymore.”

You raise your head and your eyes lock with a pair of blue-green eyes, you smile at the beautiful stranger as you continue the song and she cocks her head at you.

An idea pops into your head and swerving around the children, who laugh cheerfully, you reach Sylvie and offer her your hand.

“My name is y/n, care for a dance, traveller?” You ask sweetly, a smile resting on your face.

“Sylvie, pleased to meet you, but I’m afraid I don’t dance.” She apologizes.

“I’ll have none of that nonsense, everyone can dance Sylvie.” You offer again with a laugh.

The blonde grins at your seemingly endless amount of positivity as she prepares to decline.

“Please miss, we want y/n to finish the song.” A young boy pleads, wrapping his arms around your leg as he makes puppy-dog eyes at the woman.

Sylvie’s voice catches in her throat.

“Oh, I-”

“Pretty please, y/n’s an amazing dancer.” A young girl chimes.

“Children, be nice to Sylvie, she’s had a long journey.” You scold playfully, stroking the children’s hair as you wave them back to the group.

You begin to walk away as Sylvie’s arm reaches out and takes your hand, you turn back around a confused smile on your face.

Sylvie swallows her nerves and removes one of her cloaks before lifting your hand to her lips and placing a soft kiss to it.

“I can’t say no to such an offer.” She smirks, causing your face to light up as you pull her towards the children.

You help Sylvie place her hands on your hip and in your hand as you begin to guide her in some easy steps, once she gets the hang of it, you begin the song again.

“And I was running far away. Would I run off the world someday? But now take me home, take me home where I belong, I got no other place to go. Now take me home, take me home where I belong, I got no other place to go.”

Sylvie watches in awe as you sing, still expertly guiding her as she removes one of her arms to twirl you and you laugh into the song.

“You’ve got quite the enchanting voice, darling.” She compliments as your face heats up in a soft blush.

“Now take me home, home where I belong. Oh, no, no. Now take me home, home where I belong…” You pause, leaning in close to Sylvie as you breathe out the last lyric.

“I can’t take it anymore.”

Sylvie couldn’t trust, it was an impossible task to achieve, in that moment, she was conflicted, an stunning woman in her arms inching closer to her, eyes closed, her own eyes darting about in search of a danger, but there was none, for once, in this small shelter on a war-ridden planet, she was the safest she’d ever been and when your lips met, a warmth flood her entire body, making her dizzy in the head and weak in the knees. She quickly returned the kiss, moving her hand to your chin to deepen the kiss, closing her own eyes as she tilts her chin.

Your heart pounds out of your chest as Sylvie passionately leads your lips, it was desperate, quick but almost loving, as though she had wanted someone to do this with her entire life. The sheer sincerity of the kiss almost brought you to tears as you finally broke and the children all cheered.

“Sylvie, I think you’re the one enchanting me.” You laugh, continuing to hold her hands as she lets a small smile escape.

If only you knew, Sylvie sighs to herself, feeling her heartbeat quicken as you squeeze her hand gently.

“You kiss strangers often?” Sylvie teases, squeezing your hand back.

“Well, not usually, but sometimes... you can make exceptions.” You smile, wrapping your arms around Sylvie’s torso and swaying again.

“Now that is quite the story.” Loki chuckles, sitting back in his seat.

“Yes, yes, I fell in love with a fair maiden and had to leave as her planet destroyed itself.” Sylvie groans. “But when this is all over, I’m going back for her.” She states, determined.

And maybe feel her lips on mine again, a small part of her brain silently prays.

#sylvie laufeydottir #sylvie laufeydottir x reader #sylvie laufeydottir x you #sylvie laufeydottir fluff #sylvie laufeydottir x y/n #sylvie laufeydottir imagine #sylvie laufeydottir fic

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

"I always just rode the waves,” Rebecca Ferguson says with a shrug. The comment hangs in the air, as if the Anglo-Swedish 37-year-old is only now processing that a combination of currents and tides has led her not just to an acting career but to the brink of big-screen stardom.

“I’ve never been ambitious,” she says. “I’ve always thought that that was a bad thing.” She’s seen others in the industry consumed by constant striving and asked herself why she hasn’t hungered for fame since childhood, slept in cars outside castings, barged into directors’ offices or thrown herself in the path of a producer. “But should I not be burning for this? Out meeting people and networking for the next job?” says Ferguson, who has chosen the sort of quiet, private life outside the big city that so many actors claim to crave. “My life just took another turn. But I’ve always thought: Am I where I should be?”

At the moment, on this late July day, Ferguson is slumped in the backseat of a Mercedes-Benz sedan, crawling through rush-hour traffic on the M4 out of London. She is capping off a hectic week during a particularly busy period. Most immediately, she’s coming from a table read for Wool, the Apple TV+ adaptation of Hugh Howey’s bestselling postapocalyptic trilogy. Ferguson is both the star and, for the first time, an executive producer. “I’m sitting in all the different rooms, listening and learning like the students,” she says. She’s filming Mission: Impossible 7, her third tour of duty in the long-running series that first brought her widespread recognition. She’s also promoting the film Reminiscence, the sci-fi noir written and directed by Westworld co-creator Lisa Joy in which Ferguson stars opposite Hugh Jackman. And now she is starting a press push and festival prep for her role as Lady Jessica ahead of the much-delayed release of Dune (in theaters October 22), director Denis Villeneuve’s reimagining of Frank Herbert’s novel. “After this film, I think everyone will see what I see in her,” the filmmaker says. “She has a beautiful, regal, aristocratic presence, elegance. But that was not the main thing: The most important thing for me was that depth.”

After tracing a long, meandering path, Ferguson has landed in a rare and rarified position: ascendant in her late 30s (still an anomaly for women in the film industry) and sought after by some of the biggest names in the business. “When you meet Rebecca, you just see it. She’s very open, candid, collaborative, hardworking, funny—and not pretentious,” says Tom Cruise, who handpicked Ferguson to star opposite him in the Mission: Impossiblefilms, which are known for their demanding shoots. “She just rose to the occasion every single time.”

In February 2020, when the pandemic began, Ferguson left Venice, where she’d been shooting Mission: Impossible 7, and hunkered down with her husband, their 3-year-old daughter and Ferguson’s 14-year-old son from a previous relationship at their farm in Sweden. After four months, Ferguson returned to the M:I set and basically hasn’t stopped working since.

Dune has sat idle for far longer. By the time the movie premieres, more than two years will have passed since it wrapped. Ferguson recently asked to screen the film again: “I miss it,” she says. She ended up bringing along her Mission: Impossible co-star Simon Pegg. After the credits rolled, Pegg broke into a smile and wrapped her in a congratulatory bear hug. “That’s all I needed,” she says.

Despite being a sci-fi epic based on a novel from 1965, Dune feels “very timely,” Ferguson says, pointing to its handling of environmental issues, religious zealotry, colonialism and Indigenous rights. The plot of the film, which cost an estimated $165 million, centers on occupying powers battling for the right to exploit a people and their planet, named Arrakis, for melange (or spice)—the most valuable commodity in Herbert’s fictional universe, a substance that provides transcendental thought, extends life and enables instantaneous interstellar travel. “Spice,” Ferguson says, “is equally about the poppy and oil fields.”

Ferguson’s Lady Jessica is a member of the Bene Gesserit, a powerful secretive sisterhood with superhuman mental abilities. She defies her order by giving birth to a son, Paul (played by Timothée Chalamet), who may be a messianic figure. “She basically just f—s up the entire universe by having a son out of love,” says Ferguson. In her hands, Jessica is equal parts caring parent, protector and pedagogue. Among the skills she wields and teaches Paul is “the Voice”—a modulated tone that allows the speaker to control others.

The movie was shot in Norway, Hungary, Jordan and Abu Dhabi, whose desert landscape stood in for Arrakis. Filming there was particularly arduous, as temperatures exceeded 120 degrees Fahrenheit, limiting the shoot window to only an hour and a half each day at 5 a.m. and again at dusk. “We were running across the sand in our steel suits being chased by nonexistent but humongous worms,” Ferguson recalls, referring to the sand-beasts later rendered in CGI. “To be honest, it was one of the best moments ever. It was the most beautiful location I’ve ever seen.”

Back in London, Ferguson is approaching home. She leaves the following day for a small town on the coast of England, where she plans to spend her first vacation in two years and to do some surfing. “Let’s hope it’s good weather,” she says. “If not, I’ll surf in the rain.” Not that she’s the sort to paddle out into storm swells. “I think I’ve managed to stand on a board once in my entire life,” she says. “But it was quite a high. Complete surrender to the waves and total control all at once.”

Born Rebecca Louisa Ferguson Sundström to an English mother and Swedish father, Ferguson grew up bilingual in Stockholm. She immersed herself in dance from a young age, enjoying ballet, jazz, street funk and tango. Despite being shy and prone to blushing and breaking out when forced to speak publicly, Ferguson found she was at ease in front of the camera. She dabbled in modeling and then, at 15, attended a TV casting call at her mother’s urging. Ferguson ended up getting the lead role in Nya Tider (New Times), a soap opera that became wildly popular, splashing Ferguson’s face into Swedish homes five times a week.

When her role ended about two years later, Ferguson was adrift. She had no formal acting training to fall back on, no clear sense of how to steer a career and no major connections to the industry. She had a short run on another soap and appeared in a slasher flick and a couple of independent shorts, then…nothing. “I was famous in Sweden, but I didn’t really have an income anymore,” she says. “So I went and I worked in whatever job I could get.” That meant stints at a daycare center and as a nanny, in a jewelry shop and a shoe store, as well as teaching tango, cleaning hotel rooms and waitressing at a Korean restaurant. She eventually landed in a small coastal town named Simrishamn, where she lived with her then-partner and their toddler son, content to be a where-are-they-now celebrity.

When fame again came calling, Ferguson ran away. She was at the flea market when she recognized the acclaimed Swedish director Richard Hobert, and he saw her. As he shouted her name, Ferguson grabbed her son, who lost his shoes and sausage, and fled. “I panicked,” she says. “I don’t know why.” When Hobert eventually caught up to her, Ferguson tried to act nonchalant as he proceeded to tell her he’d admired her work and pitched her on the lead role in his next movie: “I’ve written this role, and I think I have written it for you. Do you want to read the script?”

Her work in Hobert’s A One-Way Trip to Antibes earned her a Rising Star nomination at the Stockholm International Film Festival. She quickly got an agent in Scandinavia, then one in Britain. On her first trip to take meetings in London, she read for the lead in The White Queen, the BBC adaptation of Philippa Gregory’s historical novels about the women behind the Wars of the Roses. Ferguson got the part, and her portrayal of Elizabeth Woodville, queen consort of England, earned her a Golden Globe nomination and the admiration of at least one Hollywood heavyweight.

Ferguson was in the Moroccan desert filming the Lifetime biblical miniseries The Red Tentwhen the assistant director whisked her off her camel. “We’re going to have to pause shooting,” he said as he asked her to dismount. “Tom Cruise wants to meet you for Mission: Impossible. We’re going to fly you off today.”

Cruise had seen Ferguson’s work in The White Queen and her audition tape and couldn’t believe she wasn’t already a major star. “What? Where has this woman been?” Cruise recalls exclaiming to his new Mission: Impossible director Christopher McQuarrie. “She’s incredibly skilled,” Cruise says, “very charismatic, very expressive. As you can tell, the camera loves her.” Ferguson landed a multi-picture deal to star opposite Cruise in the multibillion-dollar franchise. He and McQuarrie built out the role of Ilsa Faust for Ferguson, creating the anti-Bond girl, an equal to Cruise’s Ethan Hunt. “We could just see the impact she could have,” he says. “She’s a dancer. She has great control of her body, of her movements. She has the same ability to move through emotions effortlessly.”

Ferguson threw herself into the films and quickly found a shorthand with the cast and crew. “There was a dynamic that worked very well with all of us,” she says. “One of the things I absolutely love is doing all the stunts.” That physicality has given her a reputation as an action-minded actor. “It doesn’t matter that I’ve done 20 other films where I don’t kick ass,” Ferguson says. “Mission comes with such an enormous following. That was what made my career.”

Ferguson’s M: I movies bracket a number of films in which she played opposite marquee names: Florence Foster Jenkins, with Meryl Streep and Hugh Grant; The Girl on the Train, with Emily Blunt; The Greatest Showman, with Hugh Jackman and Michelle Williams; Life, with Jake Gyllenhaal and Ryan Reynolds; Men in Black: International, with Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson; The Snowman, with Michael Fassbender; Doctor Sleep, with Ewan McGregor. And now Dune, opposite Oscar Isaac, Javier Bardem, Zendaya and Chalamet, whom she calls “one of the best actors, if not the best actor of his generation—of this time.” She was similarly impressed by Zendaya, who plays the native Fremen warrior Chani. “She’s quite raw and naughty and fun,” says Ferguson. “She has an enormous f— off attitude.”

When Ferguson first spoke to Villeneuve about appearing in the movie, “he started telling me about this woman who was a protector, and a mother, and a lover, and a concubine,” she recalls. “I was like, ‘I’m sorry. You want me to play a queen and a bodyguard? And you want me to kick ass and walk regally?’ I was like, ‘Denis, why would I want to do that? That’s the last thing I want to do.’ ”

After the call, Ferguson says, “I went downstairs to my hubby and said, Oh, my God, he’s amazing, but I’m not going to get the job. I just criticized the character.” Ferguson worried she was being cast as a stereotypical “strong female character,” where “it’s constantly, ‘She looks good, and she can kick.’ That is not what I want to portray.”

Ferguson hasn’t always been able to work with collaborators who’ve given her the space to question or opine. “I’ve been bashed down. I’ve been bullied,” she says, though she opts not to say by whom. That was never a concern with Villeneuve, who welcomed her critique. He and his co-writers had already decided from the start to make women the focus of their screenplay adaptation, and he promptly offered her the part.

“I want Lady Jessica to be at the center, the forefront. For me, she’s the architect of the story,” Villeneuve says. “I needed someone who will convey the mystery and the dark side of the film in a very elegant and profound way. Rebecca was everything I was hoping for. She’s so precise. She brought a beautiful, controlled vulnerability—it becomes very visceral on-screen.”

Ferguson vaguely recalls trying to watch the 1984 version of Dune, directed by David Lynch, in her youth, but she fell asleep. And she had never opened Herbert’s novel until being offered the part in the new adaptation. As she dug into the book, she says, she learned that her character was subservient and far more like a concubine, forced to eat alone in her bedroom, not spoken to and not allowed to speak. Ferguson ended up relying primarily on Villeneuve for her research and prep—his notes and comments, his references and the pages in the book he suggested she focus on. “I would feel ignorant not to have read Frank’s book at all,” Ferguson says, though she admits there are parts of the sprawling novel (which Villeneuve is splitting into two films) she’s only skimmed. “I have to finish it.” That will not happen on her upcoming vacation, however. “Absolutely not,” she says “I am surfing.”

By the way, if you saw, I am snaking on the ground, snaking around my room to get good Wi-Fi—it’s not some dance or yoga thing,” Ferguson says. “You have to do that in this old house.” It’s a week and a half after our first meeting, and Ferguson is at her new home, a more than 500-year-old property southwest of London that has, over the years, been home to numerous English Royals. It’s more spartan than stately now. “Empty except for a rock star,” she says, turning her phone’s camera to reveal a framed duotone poster of Mick Jagger that’s leaning against the wall. “We haven’t even started renovating.

Ferguson has returned from her holiday fortified and with renewed confidence, thanks in part to her success on the surfboard. “I went up nearly every time,” she says cheerfully, “but the waves weren’t very high.” She shrugs. “I was proud. I was up. I rode them, not the other way around.”

After years of going with the flow, Ferguson is eager to replicate that sense of control in her career. She values her role as an executive producer on Wool, she says, “because I am, for the first time, a part of it from the beginning.” She relishes weighing in on every aspect, from casting (the show recently added Tim Robbins) to cinematography to her character—which has not always been easy for her. “Why do I feel it’s difficult to speak up? I still battle with these things,” she says. Alluding to those times she was pushed around in the past, Ferguson says, “I was angry, but it was more me getting off at ‘How can I let that happen? Why am I letting myself react this way?’ And I take it with me to the next thing where I go, ‘OK, how do I stop that from happening?’ ”

She is learning that she can ride on top of waves without giving up her agency or maybe just let them break against her. “I want to feel I can go home and think, That was a hard day or that pissed me off—and that’s OK,” Ferguson says, with a nod and tight smile. “Because I still stood there as Rebecca. I didn’t shift.”

#rebecca ferguson #interview #dune interview #mi7 interview #wool interview #tom cruise #denis villeneuve #mission impossible #dune 2021

[uponrightful]

Second Chance Ch.1

Author’s Note: This is my first attempt at writing for The Mandalorian. I’m an English Major in college, and love to write but I don’t get to share what a write often. I hope you enjoy it. ♡

TW’s: Violence, Blaster Violence. (If I've missed anything let me know.)

Word Count: 9,951

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The child was gone.

The Mandalorian was left with no ship, no child and no true plan as to what was next. It was the first time in his life that there was nowhere he needed to be or someone he needed to hunt. A different man would take the opportunity and run; disappear somewhere and live the rest of his life without the smell of blaster charges and stale blood. Someplace that no one would recognize the steely image of a Mandalorian streaking across an otherwise picturesque landscape.

The Mandalorian wasn’t that man.

He knew that there was nowhere in the galaxy that would offer him a true safe place. He only knew one thing and that was the ability to hunt. He knew that hunting was the one thing that could save him again. Once he was away from Grogu, his life would be back to normal. There wasn’t an end in sight where he would once again have the child… his foundling, back where he thought he belonged. It felt like a new world had opened with its hungry mouth swallowing any sense of direction that the Mandalorian thought he once had.

He had made up his mind, before he had even set foot off of Moff Gideon’s ship where he would go first.

Nevarro.

He knew that Guild contracts were no longer an option, but despite the loss of steady quarry Nevarro was notorious for contracts. The Mandalorian knew his name carried weight, and now that Grogu was gone, it would be somewhat easier to return to his bounties. The Guild was not only steady work, but it had only been so because of his hard work. Four pucks weren’t normal, if not exceptional  in most cases; but for him there was no questioning. He always returned with the bounties within a thin time constraint. He was meticulous and that level of professionalism gave him advantages.

Advantages that he no longer had.

Boba Fett was quick to offer the ride to Nevarro with the promise of not-so-stale food and a little but more comfortable stay than he assumed The Mandalorian was used to. Fett talked much more than Mando had expected however it didn’t bother him much. Fett talked briefly about some of the more exotic women he had met -some from Nevarro- and recounted the nights that he had spent under the sheets with an unfamiliar woman getting his satisfaction.  

Mando listened not for interest in Fett’s bedroom habits but for information. He hoped that Fett might just slip something that would be useful. Maybe somewhere he could get resupplied, or even find a ship… but nothing of the sort happened.

Hyperspace was endless and the pure torture of watching is pass by was worse than leaving his child with the Jedi. His entire being ached from constant action and the even worse pain of a heart that had to heal. It wasn’t right that he should be forced to suffer so badly after only doing what was right. This was The Way. No matter how many times he tried to think it over, and find some sort of solace it only deepened the hole that kept growing in his chest.

“Mandalorian.” Fett barked, pointing towards the planet registering on his monitor.

Mando stepped up to check the readings and they were nearing Tatooine. Mando turned to see Fett preparing to push into airspace.

“I brought you here for a reason.” Fett continued, “You’ve been in my service and therefore I owe you repayment. I thought the child would be enough, but after everything that happened on that cruiser I can’t leave our interaction heavy on your end.”

“I don’t understand, what is it that you believe you owe me?” he asked, sitting down in the co-pilots chair and waiting for the ship to make its descent.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

The hellish landscape of Tatooine greeted Mando and Fett with a blast of sand the cut across their helmets making it almost impossible to see until the engines on the Slave 1 finally shut off completely. Fett had landed miles away from any town, and seemed quite confident was he strode off onto the barren sand flat below them. Mando wasn’t someone who liked the idea of blindly following anyone, especially when there was no real reason for him to be there anyways.

But after Fett didn’t turn around and disappeared over the dune, Mando begrudgingly followed. The sand fell around the gaps in his pants, letting the fine particles fall into his boots. The suns were blazing and by Mando’s guess it was at its highest point of the day. Heatstroke wasn’t impossible, even if he had just been in a ship moments ago.

He caught sight of Fett’s helmet glinting a bright white light toward Mando. He watched as the man knelt down and began shoving sand away from beneath his shadow that splayed downward. He shook his head, and caught up to further inspect what Fett could possibly be doing digging around in the sand.  

The two men stood at the bottom of what looked like a the beginnings of a sand dune in the middle of the flat. But after watching Fett struggle to dig deeper into what seemed like endless sand Mando grew impatient.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Dig with me. And you’ll see.” Fett’s voice was labored, proving how easy a possibility it was for the both of them to drop dead in this heat.

Mando started digging away. It took a good 15 minutes before Mando pulled out a handful of sand revealing what looked like an old piece of tan fabric. He was about to groan at how ridiculous this little job had been, but Fett began chuckling and walked away toward his ship.

“Stay there, I’ll be back.”

Fett was going insane. There was no way any of this was going anywhere good, but at this point Mando had two options. See why this piece of fabric was such a happy sight… or kill him. Fett brought the ship closer and closer towards Mando, kicking up sand and creating a small sandstorm that virtually blinded Mando to what Fett was able to see from above. Mando could barely see the shine of metal through the cloud that thickly surrounded him, choking out most of the clean air he could breathe.

After a few more seconds of fighting to get out of the Fett-made sandstorm Mando finally got a glimpse of what Fett had been so damn happy about. Under what had been a giant hill of sand, appeared an expanse of heavy canvas that took the shape of a ship’s outline. An ion turret jutted out into the blinding sun like it was proudly showing itself off for the first time in years. Mando was even able to recognize the tip of a Proton-Torpedo launcher sneaking out from underneath of the fluttering canvas shield.

Fett circled the newly unearthed ship, section by section revealing more and more of what looked like a transporter ship. Mando stood daunted, at the sight before him watching as the last corner of the cover slipped off the back entry hatch.

The Slave 1 landed right next to Mando its engines thrumming with the slight struggle of the burning temperate. He could even see the heat haze lifting up off the metal body distorting the edges of the ship like he was in a mirage. The last hour felt like it was all a dream, but the hard slap on Mando’s shoulder confirmed that he wasn’t imagining any of it.

“This is the Slave Two … it just so happened that it was my backup for quite some time.” Fett explained, walking towards the ships hatch.

“With updated blaster cannons and some damn good Deflector-Shields it wasn’t quite on par with Slave One… but still one of the best ships a man could own.” Fett nodded approvingly of his own assessment, lowering the hatch.

Mando walked up the ramp, and followed Fett through the hall and towards the cockpit. There were at least seven doors that he could count without the help of any lights on, and a streamlined floorplan that allowed Mando to navigate the ship even without Fett’s guidance. The inside of the ship looked like it hadn’t been touched for many years, with a weapons closet filled with an array of blasters and other devices that harbored a thick coating of dust and sand.

“This is yours?” Mando asked, glancing to see Fett climbing up through the floor into the cockpit above him.

“Yes, she’s mine. Come give me a hand Mandalorian.”

Mando climbed the ladder, and pulled himself to his feet to see Fett sitting calmly in the co-pilots chair looking out onto the desert that stretched ahead for miles. Fett seemed as if he was trying to find something out there, like if he looked hard enough it would just suddenly appear out of thin air.

Somehow Mando knew that he was feeling the same way.

“I’ve spent many years creating a life that has come back to punish me in ways that I’m sure you are beginning to understand Mandalorian. But when I heard that you gave that kid away… your kid. I knew that losing your Crest wasn’t the biggest thing weighing down that beskar.” Fett turned the chair for face Mando, mirroring their appearance in a way that Mando hadn’t experience in quite a while.

“You’ll take her, Slave 2.” Fett said with a satisfied tone. “If you treat her right, she’ll repay the favor just the same as I do.”

“I can’t.” Mando was willing to accept anything from Fett, well deserved or from pity. There was nothing inside himself that could allow any type of transaction like this to happen.

“You’ll do it because I said so.” Fett growled standing from his seat and closing the extra space in between them. “I didn’t bring you hear because I feel bad for you. I know what you’re after. You’re after your life before that kid.” He chuckled, turning back towards the windshield. “The only way you get do that again, is if you take her.”

Fett didn’t stay long enough to hear a response from Mando. He simply dropped back down through the floor into the hull and made his way into the hallway where the row of doors was. The ships control panel wasn’t anything unusual to Mando, but it felt strange to sit down in the chair, and begin turning on the ships controls to hopefully get the Ion engines running without any hiccups. After a few switches were set, and the efficacy level checked out, the Slave Two was hot and humming smoothly with the smallest beeps from the cockpit sounding all around him.

Mando watched as Fett came into view from the windshield, walking out away from the ship. He didn’t check to see if Mando was still sitting there until he was in the cockpit. He watched as Fett reached to press a couple buttons.

The Slave Two’s speakers crackled to life projecting Fett’s voice in the cockpit;

“I know some Hutt’s about 180 kilometers from here, they might be able to find you some… work.” He said pointing his finger towards the direction.

“Everything on this ship is-”

“Yours.” Fett snarled already knowing that Mando’s independence was going to make this difficult enough. “You’ll need it.”

“I owe you.” Mando replied.

Fett’s low chuckle sounded through the speakers “This is Your Way.”

Both men left without saying another word with destinations in mind. Mando however, was still unsure of whether or not doing business with Hutt’s would be worth it. They’re reliability was almost nonexistent, but if Fett was able to do business it might mean that so could he.

Slave Two was larger than the Razor Crest and from Mando’s judgment it was quite a well-handling ship. Not a single error button flashed, nor did the Deflector Generators need repaired. It wasn’t like Mando to pay much attention to the way a ship looked, but he knew that this ship was better suited to his work. He liked the controls, how well the ship responded to his ministrations. He even noticed the modifications that Fett had made during his flight toward the Hutt’s encampment.

Fett had wiped any memory on the ship, and there was a mock Hyperspace Tracker that could bounce signals around in hyperspace so the ships couldn’t be located easily. It was quite sneaky, and something Mando didn’t have the luxury of on the Razor Crest. Often times the worst part of the Crest was the recognition that it drew to plants like Nevarro-7 or even Tatooine. Before he could even land there were questions from ground securities wanting some type of registration information. None of that would be a problem any longer.

The Hutt’s base sat underground, buried underneath of a outcropping of rock mountains in the sand dunes outside of Mos Eisley. Mando could see the sandstone buildings, wavering from the baking heat. The door was guarded by a man, carrying a blaster with a smug look on his face. Hutt’s didn’t normally keep humans as guards, but Mando assumed he was a slave of some sort.

The guard didn’t ask for much, simply opening the door and mumbling something about ‘good business’ before pointing him in the direction of the cut-stone stairs that led down further into the ground. The stairs became damper as he descended with the smell of Hutt sneaking through his helmet. It was almost unbearable by the time he made it to the hall below.

His eyes first caught the women two women chained to the Hutt’s throne of sorts, the heavy links weighing down their wrists. They were skimpily clad, but had to have been the cleanest beings there. Four guards approached Mando, patting down his body finding his single blaster that was holstered to his hip. They made no comments but took the blaster and sat it down in front of the Hutt who laughed deeply at his first sight of Mando.

“A Mandalorian!” he boomed, using Basic language for Mando’s convenience. “What brings a fearsome man like you here, to me?” his chuckles still echoing through his question.

“I was told that I could find work here.” He replied, again darting his gaze back toward the two women who were no cowering behind the throne as far as their chains would allow. Their faces were covered with fear, but not of the Hutt… of him.

“Who told you this?” He boomed louder, rattling the sound equipment in Mando’s helmet. It made him wince at how terrible the enhanced sound felt against his ears.

“Boba Fett.”

The Hutt stopped his incessant chucking to look towards Mando was a harder stare, more serious this time. “I haven’t seen him in years… Do you have alike professions?”

“Yes.” Mando tried to keep his information limited for his own benefit. The less this Hutt knew about him the better off he would be.

“Bounty Hunting…” the Hutt said quieting his tone. “I have heard stories of your kind… yet only to this day met two.” His chuckles returned. “I have quite a few… interests that could use your level of expertise.”

He called out to one of the guards that had search him upon arrival and ordered him in Hutt nodding toward a hallway leading toward Mando’s right. The guard hastened away, trying to keep a professional tone. Mando kept quiet as his listened to the Hutt began talking again;

“I have three contracts… outer rim quarry that are needing some attention. You would be given their pucks… no tracking fobs or anything but their names and last locations.” He paused taking a labored breath, “The fourth is an exceptional job.”

“Exceptional how?” Mando pushed.

“It is a… cold job. But you would be given a fob.” The Hutt boomed with laughter.

Mando only nodded, familiar with the certainty that contractors wanted when dealing with quarry. A dead quarry wouldn’t cause problems, and Mando knew just how convenient that could be for the hunter as well.

“The other three are desired alive, and if they are not the payment would be reduced.” Hutt continued, “However, I do not pay out. I am only a middle man.”

“Where would I receive payment?”

“From a man in Mos Eisley, you would have different random contacts every time to secure… anonymity.”

The guard returned with the four pucks and one fob in hand. Sweat beading on his brow, he brought them to Mando and handed them gingerly to him before returning to his place against the wall surrounding the Hutt. Mando looked at the pucks, before returning focus to the Hutt.

“You would bring the assets to Mos Eisley, and they would be unloaded from your ship while you received payment.” He huffed, again out breath. “You would have three weeks to perform your duties… Do you accept?”

“I accept.”

***

2 Weeks Later.

“Hey man! Whatever they’re paying, I’ll double it!” the quarry yelled, struggling against the restraints Mando had put on him.

Mando stayed quiet, letting the bargaining spew out of his quarry’s mouth. It was so habitual that they tried bargaining, running or anything of their other useless attempts at escape. He never bargained… and he only let one quarry change his mind.

Grogu.

He did his best to push the child out of his mind while he shoved the quarry into the carbonite machine, quickly disposing the ship of the sounds of pleading. It became deathly quiet on the Slave Two after the carbonite had frozen his quarry into a thick slab. Only the sound Mando’s heavy footfalls signaled any life aboard as he walked back toward the cockpit.

The ship was too quiet for Mando’s true liking hyperspace was deathly silent and freezing cold. He couldn’t imagine it was any better than dying and that hyperspace was really where he would go after he was finally killed. His only solace became the beeping sounds of his ship, creating a pattern that was as close to a song as he could remember.

He only had job left, and it was the Cold Quarry. They were supposedly heading to Hoth to wait out any bounty hunters that were sent for him. Mando knew the quarry was hoping to dissuade anyone from coming to find him but Hoth’s snow and freezing weather wasn’t a problem. He had been on frozen planets before and it never distracted him from the job.

He would be on Hoth in a few days at most, and it gave him the opportunity to take a check of his low supply on food, and even lower supply of fuel and water. The Hutt had supplied him enough of both for about twelve days, not the full twenty-one. If it would have been the Guild he would have been well taken care of, and what wasn’t supplied for him was allotted in his job payments. A small part of him wished that he was able to return, simply for the respect that he had gained but he knew in his heart that he could never do so because of Grogu.

He hadn’t noticed how quickly his allegiance had changed for the support of the foundling, but after letting him go the full force of his protective nature had come crashing down on his shoulders with the weight of the galaxy. In those last few moments not only had he broken his creed, but he had felt true heartbreak for the first time. Of course, he had a moral compass, and anything that the Empire had planned wasn’t good for anyone, but it was a relationship that he was completely unprepared for. It was hard to let go, harder than any bounty he would ever have to catch.

He picked up a small can of soup turning it in his hand and inspecting his memories of eating with the child. It was one of his favorite things. He was cautious to not let Grogu to see his face, but after the first few times it was quite usual for him to sit facing the kid and eat without any issues of the kid trying to pull at his helmet.

Mando wasn’t hungry despite the churning in his stomach. He needed to get this job done.

Maybe he had forgotten just how cold Hoth could be. The wind cut through his clothes, and whipped his cape wildly in the gusts behind him. He could hear a small whistling from the gap in between his pauldron and the bottom edge of his helmet causing a ringing in his right ear. Mando didn’t spend much time hiding his ship, with the security of snow covering the visible planes from airspace. Not to mention how Hoth was almost deserted… except for the occasional bounty with a death wish.

He could easily see from airspace the most easily accessible to a man wanting somewhere to hide. And after landing down it was even easier to see the tracks made by a single set of shoes. They were undoubtedly a man’s, and from the information the Hutt gave him, these prints seemed like a dead ringer for shoe size and weight.

They were leading back into a separating in between to tall rock outcroppings that mostly likely afforded protection from the wind cutting through Mando’s layered shirts. He looked down to activate the ground security system with his vambrace, but after taking a second look, he could see a thin layer of frost covering even inch of the control section and even on the beskar surrounding it.

A cold bounty… he thought, finding no real humor in the situation.

Mando walked until daylight grew scarce. The weather had picked up, and if it hadn’t been for the two mountains he walked in between there would be no way for him to continue any further. The whistling in his ears were not helping his cause either. There would be no way for him to hear his bounty without being right on top of him. He’d had to turn off his audio enhancement so long ago due to the whistling becoming so loud.

The rock walls that surrounded Mando soared high up with ice and snow covering the jagged edges. Mando could see caves high up but the walls were too steep for anyone to climb up. He was looking for heat signatures, anything warmer than the frost covering everything, including him. There was nothing low to the ground, not even the footprints held any residual heat or memory, so his helmets enhancements were almost useless for tracking from the ground. But when he looked back up, he could finally see a little bit of heat. It was quickly disappearing, and the tell-tale red signature was barely visible, but it was still there.

A smoke trace.

It was too cold to not have some source of heat but burning a fire wasn’t smart for anyone hiding from a bounty hunter. After turning off his infrared display, the smoke was more visible in contrast with the bright white snow.

He was happy that the quarry wasn’t far, grateful his landing was well-founded in his good presumption of where the bounty could be hiding. His bounties were often well-hidden away, but this time he was truly struggling to keep a straight focus. Mando felt out of practice and it was only adding onto the feeling that this hunt was hard.

After what felt like an hour of trudging through the snow he could see the reflection of a fire licking up the side of the mountain. The flames burned high, and Mando couldn’t help but think how great it would feel to sit down at defrost his cold body. No shadow could be seen huddling around the fire or any real movement that Mando could see from his position.

His own footfalls were silent sinking into the snow as he drew upon a small cave lit up brightly by a roaring fire fueled by a small metal box that blew blue flames out into a controlled ball. A large man, laid close to the ball covered by a thick emergency blanket covering his entire body.

Mando drew his blaster, careful not to disturb the man before he was in position to wake him up.

“Wake up.” He demanded, expecting the man to shoot up out of bed.

The sleeping man stayed still. For a minute Mando debated whether or not to complete his job with the man unaware of his impending death. Killing him now would not only remove the chance of a fight, but also save Mando the risk of getting injured. He decided against it.

He leaned down, and shoved the man in the shoulder with his blaster. He watched as the mans’ body rolled over onto his back, covered in frost. The quarry’s skin was blue and the veins underneath were just as frozen as his skin. Mando’s eye widened, at the man’s brittle body, frozen in time right before his heart has finally frozen solid.

He hadn’t had to kill the bounty after all. But in the back of his mind, he knew that taking the dead man back tonight was not worth the risk. It was too cold to go back with extra weight after he experienced the cold without any slowed pace. He needed to get back quickly before the temperature dropped to low.

He employed the use of his jetpack, now that he was not at risk of spooking his quarry and cut through the blistering gales back to his ship. Before the door could shut he was stripping away the beskar covering his body. He sat it close to a small vent, watching for a second as the thick layer of frost slowly began dissipating around the edges. It was a magnet for cold, and it only accentuated how badly his core temperature had dropped outside. It wasn’t low enough for him to worry about any long-term effects however a hot shower was sounding better than even before. He even removed his helmet so the padding on the inside would vent and dry itself while he showered.

The steam rising out of the fresher welcomed Mando’s cold skin as he pulled away at the crunchy undershirt and pants he still wore. They had been soaked with sweat and frozen, leaving what was a normally comfortable shirt into a crystallized model of his body. The clothes landed with a heavy thud by his feet.

Mando sighed at the feeling of hot water soaking his hair and melting away the frigid feeling he carried in his muscles. He rested his forehead and elbows against the wall perfectly happy to let his ships remaining water supply to funnel down the drain. He stayed there for a long while, reminding himself that in the morning he would need to stop into a port and stock back up before leaving Hoth. There was an outpost not too far away that would supply everything he needed, but the price was what he occupied himself with.

His credits were uncomfortably low for his liking and if he showed any desperate need for fuel or water it would be easy enough for the normal price to become doubled. Hoth wasn’t known for crooked people, but you never knew what you were going to get when someone met a Mandalorian. Some didn’t give any protest, happy to supply Mando without any qualms… mostly driven by avoidance of conflict. But others were quite happy to make Mando’s life just a little more difficult, always staring at his beskar with a wicked look in their eyes.

He dried off, and retrieved another set of clothes from underneath his cot hastily pulling them on and retrieving his helmet from the floor to avoid losing any of the precious heat he had just regained. He eyed the cot and the heavy blanket that sat folded neatly at the foot, calling for him to actually lay down for once. He denied its pleas, and instead retreated up the ladder to the cockpit.

The pilots chair lightly groaned at his weight as he collapsed down into it. He lolled his head back, letting his helmet clink against the metal trim surrounding the headrest. He wouldn’t sleep, only sit in the darkness of Hoth’s night and listen to the howls of an ongoing snow storm rage against the sides of his ship. It rocked the Slave Two gently, back and forth creating a cradle for its inhabitants.

No sleep would come. Only the bright white reflection of sunlight casting off the continuously falling snow.

The bounty was easy enough in the height of Hoth’s sun. Giving him a small advantage in dragging the unbending weight of his bounty back to the carbonite machine. Mando almost thought the weather was comfortable until he stepped foot into a small cantina that hung on the edge of a small outpost.

The room was small, with enough seats for twenty at maximum with only five people filling those seats. It was decorated heavily with furs, and a roaring fireplace that licked high into the chimney space, like the quarry’s small metal box had. Only this one was filled with some sort of natural material. Mando had never seen anything like it before, and upon further inspection it looked like glassy black stones that gave off a sweet and smoky smell that permeated through his helmet.

It was only a light tap on his ribcage that brought his attention away from the fire. An elderly woman with deep age lines in her face, stood meekly in front of him with a small, crooked smile on her face.

“You look like you could use some heat.” Her smile grew wider as she ran a withered finger across his paulron. She inspected the gathering of frost on her finger, and watched it melt away before looking back up to him.

Underneath his helmet, the smallest smile graced Mando’s face at the woman in front of him. She looked old enough to be his ba’buir… his grandmother. Her fine white hair was pulled tightly back into a bun with small little strands staying out of the slicked back style. He couldn’t help but feel a small bit warmer with her gaze on him.

“I came for supplies, and fuel.” He said quietly, afraid of startling her with the crackling sound of his modulator.

Her wise eyes softened at his voice, and it only surprised him into silence as he waited for her response.

“Fuel is on the other end of the outpost.” She paused turning slowly to gaze toward the opposite end of town. “However, if you want supplies, I might be able to help you… Mandalorian.”

Her emphasis came with a charming glitter in her eyes, as she motioned for him to follow her. He did so silently, watching to make sure her shuffling feet didn’t catch on any of the chair legs that sat in her path. She opened a door, and let him walk through into what looked like a pantry. Shelves lined the walls, and were stocked with almost everything Mando could think of needing. Jars of unlabeled food -most likely hand filled- emergency medical supplies, and even random ship parts sat in metal crates stacked in a cobweb and dust covered corner.

He was quite speechless at the sight, but hesitated as she cleared her throat from hoarseness.

“You take whatever you need… if you can help me with my problem.” Her eyes focused right in on his, despite the black visor shading his eyes from view.

“Problem?” he asked.

The woman’s eyes that had glittered with pride, suddenly grew serious as she shuffled closer to him. 

“There’s a man out at the bar who desperately wants something I have.” She whispered, glancing every so often like the door behind her would bust open at any second. “I need you to get rid of him… and if you do, I’ll give you something that’s worth more than anything you’ve ever had before.”

Mando stood before a woman who he’d never met before, not fully understanding what it was that she was so serious about protecting or what she was willing to give him. Not that he wasn’t willing to help her, but her entire demeanor was surely enticing him.

“I’ll help.” He replied shifting his gaze back up to the door.

“He’s the only man at the bar,” she repeated reverently “He carries a blaster in his waistband… behind his back.” She whispered as she walked back out into the cantina’s dining space.

Mando focused back on the fireplace on the opposite side of the room, where he could sit and watch this man without gaining any more attention than he already was. A wooden chair sat close to the flames, and Mando found himself leaning back into it with the intent of looking as inconspicuous as he could.

The man at the bar was taller than average, but a full head shorter than Mando. He had broad shoulders and a bulge at his lower back. She was right. He thought, making a mental note of how observant the old woman truly was. He also sported a shaved head with many scars littering his skin with marred sections where the hair hadn’t grown back.

Mando couldn’t see him face, for the angle that he sat at. But he could tell from the wavering of his torso in his chair that he’s had one too many of whatever the elderly woman was serving. There was no way that Mando could get the man to leave without there being a scene, but something in the back of his mind told him that the woman was more than prepare for that to happen.

He even caught her out of the corner of his display, carefully taking glasses and other breakable items and stowing them underneath of the bar. Mando let her work quietly for a few more minutes, giving her enough time to save as many of her dishes as possible before he stood up.

“Another!” the man demanded loudly, slurring as he raised his glass in attempt to gain the old woman’s attention.

Mando reached the man’s side before she could, and reached his hand out to keep her from getting any closer. “I think you’ve had enough.” He stated, keeping his gaze straightforward.

He could hear the drunk man’s stunned choke as he whipped his head around to face Mando. He chuckled loudly, and dropped his half-full glass onto the bar-top spilling its contents all over the place. “And what would you know about it, tin can?”

“Enough to know you’ve had enough.” Mando repeated, this time turning just enough that half of his visor faced the drunk.

“How about you leave shiny. Before I make a mess out of you and this wenches bar.” His threat warbled with plastered slurs as he reached into his belt and pulled out his blaster, waving it all around before finally resting it on Mando’s chest.

Even if the man had been sober, he wouldn’t have noticed that Mando had already pulled out his own blaster and statuesquely trained it on the man’s head. It was quite the standoff, and Mando was quite certain in his ideas of why the old woman wanted him gone.

“Drop it, and you can leave Hoth alive. Or… I can drop you on the floor with a blaster hole through your chest.” Mando threatened, not letting his blaster waver an inch.

“I own this bar…” the man bluffed getting redder in the face by the second. “I own her-“ he jerked pointing to the old woman, “And her prize possession.” He spat turning back to Mando.

“You can live or you can die…. Your choice.” Mando growled, his finger resting on the trigger.

His ultimatum seemed to work well enough that the man dropped his blaster to the bar with a metallic thud, before stumbling off of his stool. He mumbled incoherently, even Mando’s helmet was unable to enhance what he said as he walked through the door, rattling the hinges as he slammed it shut.

Mando turned to the elderly woman, a sparkle in her eyes as she spoke to Mando again, “I’ll send word that you need refueled, and after you rest tonight, you’ll be leaving tomorrow.” Her satisfied tone rang through Mando’s speakers.

“I can’t stay.” He protested.

“You’ll stay here, for free.” She smiled, “Please, humor an old woman for a night.”

Mando could only sigh, and allow the woman to show him to a small room upstairs where he could place his belongings and lay awake, wondering what prize possession everyone but him seemed to know about.

As he listened, he could hear music playing below and a few bursts of laughter floating through the floor boards. He wasn’t comfortable laying there, but with the happy vibrations of celebration it did soothe his overly tense body enough that he could relax his helmet against pillow and cross his ankles to listen better.

He could hear the old woman’s hoarse voice sometimes making itself stand out from the other conversations, but nothing loud enough he could make out. He could hear a man’s voice speaking to others about the almost-blaster fight in the cantina earlier, embellishing the encounter with help from some liquid encouragement.

Under his helmet, he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling listening to the man talk about the ‘grand Mandalorian’ who kicked out Yir Fearbe. So that’s his name… he thought. They talked about the Corellian, and how he had left for Hoth years ago with the idea of taking over a port and making enough credits to further control the planet. Apparently, from the loud laughter his dream of becoming Hoth’s unofficial governor was hilariously outlandish.

Mando wasn’t surprised. Corellian’s were always reckless with a huge lack of reverence for anyone else’s existence. Mando knew of bounty hunters from Corellia, but they were all untrustworthy to say the least. Personal gain was the main currency for a Corellian. They had no creed, something that Mando was half-jealous and half-detesting of.

But as the man below continued with his stories and accountings of Yir, they grew much more serious in tone. He spoke of how brutal he was toward the elderly woman, but no one was able to win a fight against him… let alone win. The man barked out a laugh after saying that Mando was lucky he was too drunk to realize what was happening… and that “he would be back after the metal man left.”

The conversations droned on through the night, and early into the morning before silence fell over the downstairs. But it wasn’t two hours later that he heard the clinking of glasses and dishes being put away. He needed to get his ship re-fueled before mid-day, and be in hyperspace before that. The sooner he was gone the better.

He picked up his belts, and slung them over his chest also placing his blasters in their holsters before ducking through the short door frame. He was met with the tired eyes of the old woman, already watching him with a close gaze. Mando sat down at the same chair he had last night, letting the fire warm his back and neck, careful not to let his cloak get too close.

“Something to eat?” she asked absentmindedly, like a mother would.

“No, thank you.” He nodded his head, watching her slowly wipe down the bar top.

“Something to drink?” she queried again. Dank Farrik she was persistent.

He only shook his head this time, waving his hand dismissively at the offer. She only gave him a smile that creased the deep lines near her eyes and created heavy contours around the corners of her mouth.

“I expect as much… from a man like you.” She murmured.

“How do you know what I am?” he asked, leaning to rest his arms on his thigh plates.

“I have only heard stories of your kind,” she said looking fondly somewhere off in her memories. “But I expect that before you leave, you’ll show me just how good you are.” She pointed at him, her wrinkly fingers shaking.

Good.

Mando knew that wasn’t true. Even if she heard real stories she would know better than to think of him with any high regards to his goodness. Loyalty... sure. Maybe even a small sense of what justice was, but goodness wasn’t anywhere close to something he deserved. He was not only a warrior, but a contract killer. He made his living at the cost of others lives. Mandalorian’s were taught with weapons, not prayers to any gods. Children were trained not taught.

He thought of himself as a weapon.

They sat in silence, him watching her work and her consistently asking him for something to eat or drink. If she had been watching closely enough, the old woman might have seen his shoulders rise in the slightest when he huffed an amused chuckle at her progressively worrying tone.

“You do eat, don’t you?” she blustered, seemingly upset at his continuous declinations.

“Yes.” He tilted his head, trying to figure out just what it was she was upset about. “This isn’t about me eating is it?” he questioned back.

Her eyes drifted down towards her feet, suddenly looking more tired than she had after he came downstairs. She tottered across the room, and sat in down in a chair across from Mando, looking him up and down slowly before settling back on his visor.

“That was my husband’s chair,” she murmured. Mando made an attempt to get up, wanting to appease her, but she quickly stopped him. “No, no. You don’t have to do that. Hardly anybody likes sitting in that old thing, but if you like it… then you sit.”

He adjusted her hips in the wooden seat, and winced before continuing on, “That man you made leave last night killed my husband, years ago when he first landed on Hoth. My husband only owned this building, but Yir wanted it for himself. And instead of doing the honorable thing, he killed my husband thinking that I wouldn’t have the wherewithal to do it myself.” She shook her head, a small bit of arrogance flashing across her features.

“I have done everything in my power -which isn’t much- to let you know the truth. Giving every last ounce of my strength into keeping everything that needed protected, protected.”

Mando shifted foreword again, narrowing his eyes in focus and trying to understand her real meaning behind all of this.  

“But when I saw you walk through that door, I knew that you were my last opportunity.” She smiled, making real eye-contact through his visor.

“Who are you? And why do you trust me?” he blurted, desperate for a straight, uncryptic answer.

“Mandalorian, I’m just an old woman. Nothing more. That doesn’t mean I don’t know when I see a second chance sitting right in front of me.”

Mando was about to speak again, when the loud ring of a familiar voce began thrumming through the air, followed by incessant blaster fire. The old woman gasped, grabbing at her chest and hurriedly standing up with her gaze locked on the door.

“Maker…” she whispered. “He’s coming.”

Mando thought quickly, and rushed her over to the storage room she had brought him into yesterday, carefully trying to get her there before Yir could catch him with his back turned. But before he could close the door, he frail hand reached out and touched his chest, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“You are much more than a warrior… but at this moment, that is exactly what you need to be.” She stated reverently, before shutting the door herself.

He heard the sound of a lock click on her side of the door right before the one behind him smashed open with a bright read beam of blaster fire. Mando couldn’t remember what happened, or how he found himself being thrown around the room and being smashed into tables but that’s exactly what happened.

His beskar absorbed the brunt of most of the blows he took, but the man was so belligerent that he took too punching Mando in the helmet despite the ugly angle that balled-up fingers were at. Mando tried to fight back, but without a chance to reach for his blaster there was not much he could do but grapple with the man, and find an opportunity to reach down to his hip.

Vir growled ferally screaming about taking what was rightfully his, and other nonsense that Mando could barely catch before he was thrown once again this time, his back making solid contact with the hard, stone edge of the bar. Vir lifted him up, and angrily smashed him against the wall, trapping his throat and squeezing hard, trying to push past Mando’s thick cloak wrapped tightly around his throat.

“I’ll make more money off that beskar than I would on this planet in a lifetime.” Vir growled, smiling happing at his reflection in Mando’s helmet. “I can’t wait to see what’s under all that metal.” He barked happily, not noticing Mando’s free hand struggling for purchase on his blaster.

“I told you to leave.” Mando choked out, pulling the trigger and hearing a loud scream resonate from Vir. They both dropped to their knees, but Vir kept screaming at the giant wound in his thigh, or what was left of it.

“You…. You will pay for this.” Vir threatened with a tremble, gripping at his leg with a fierce grimace on his face. “They sent me here, for her.” He smiled, delirious anger taking over. “They’ll come for you once they find out what happened he-“

Mando silence Vir’s threats with another blaster shot.

“I told you to leave.” Mando repeated, struggling to his feet. His head buzzed with the rush of oxygen flooding back.

“Mandalorian!” the old woman hissed, rushing out the door and across to him.

He pushed away her attempts to check him for injuries, knowing well enough for himself that any blaster shots that had went off ricocheted off his beskar.

“I’m fine.” He said pushing away from her. “But I need to leave. Now.” He stated, giving her a hard look.

“Take what you need. Your ship is ready, I checked this morning.” She said pointing towards the storage room she had just came from.

He nodded silently, and quickly began grabbing what he needed, throwing all of it into a canvas bag that was hanging from one of the shelves. Canned food, and two medical supply kits were only a couple of the things he shoved into the bag before exiting to see the old woman standing with a huge coat and a change of boots.

“I’ll walk you there.” She stated, not giving him much of a choice.

“My pace.”

She only nodded, and lead him out into the street where at the end of the street he could see his ship had been moved.

“Who moved my ship?” he asked impatiently.

“Someone trustworthy.” Was her answer.

“Listen, I don’t know you. And I understand we had a deal, but that’s over with now.” he retorted, glancing over at her.

“Not yet, I gave you one last thing…”

He looked to see tears spilling over her sagging cheeks, and he shoulders slumped low like she was carrying a huge weight.

“You owe me a promise Mandalorian. And I entrust you’ll keep it.”

“What is this promise?” he asked, finally reaching his ships back hatch.

The hatch hissed as it began opening, and Mando reflexively drew his blaster pointing in at the figure who stood in the hull of his ship.

“Everything looks fantastic I fixed a few loose connections on the hyperdr-” A honeyed voice filled Mando’s ears as the figure came to a sudden halt, open hands raised in submission at the blaster trained on them.

“Who are you?” he demanded, feeling quite whiplashed by his last day and a half. He was ready to start shooting without asking questions.

“She’s mine.” The old woman cut in, rising her mittened hand to push away at Mando’s blaster.

“I refueled your ship, and check to make sure that you were ready to go.” The silky voice added.

He watched, carefully as a young woman walked slowly down the ramp of his ship, hands still raised up, with wide eyes trained on his. What is with these women… he thought, feeling quite uncomfortable with how easy it was for them to find his eye behind the visor.

The old woman pushed harder at his blaster and he finally dropped it down to his side, finally getting him to release his steady aim on the girl. “You have a promise to keep.” She murmured, looking at the girl, who was staring just as puzzled at the old woman as Mando felt.

“She is yours to protect.”

The girl immediately began denying the idea, and Mando himself finally cut off that annoyingly sweet voice to put up his own protest,

“I have no reason to take her anywhere.”

The old woman’s wise eyes fell back onto Mando, and consequently silenced the surprised interjections from his ship.

“You need a second chance…” she spoke almost prophetically piercing through Mando’s resolve. “And I might be an old woman… but I have seen what you can do. And that assures me that you’re the one man that can keep her safe…” she hesitated. “Promise me you’ll take care of her.”

Mando was about to question her again when the sound of a blaster echoed up through the snow-covered pathway. He shouted a warning, and reached to cover the old woman’s back  when she was already falling down into the snow, still as the quarry from the cave.

She was dead.

He heard more blaster shots, and a scream from the girl, as she attempted to run off the sloping hatch of the ship, carrying her own blaster and retuning fire. It wasn’t a good situation when Mando turned back toward the street again. A group of men masked, and carrying a lot firepower began making their way toward his ship, all pointing toward the girl who was squatting next to his ship, blaster trained down sight.

“Give us the girl!” one of them shouted, pointing a gloved hand past Mando.

He flashed back to the bounty droid, pointing its blaster at Grogu… the feeling he had now identical to that day. He tried to suppress it, but after a few more seconds hundreds of ‘what-if’s’ and what the old woman had said, he turned toward the girl;

“Get on the ship. Now!”

Blaster fire erupted, bouncing off the back hatch as it pulled up off the ground and Mando stepped back towards the hull space. He fired, eliminating the closest people in the group when he felt the ship lurch upwards into the sky.

She was flying his ship.

But, surprisingly he wasn’t as mad as he thought when the imminent threat of the men boarding became slimmer and slimmer as the distance between Hoth’s frozen ground and the Slave Two grew wider. Only after leaving air space in a hurry, did Mando make his way to the cockpit to see just who it was that was now on his ship.

She sat in the pilot’s chair focused on the dash of buttons in front of her, eyes flashing occasionally up to the interfaces showing their positioning. If it wasn’t for the red display flashing on her face he wouldn’t have noticed the tear streaks on her cheeks. Her breaths were uneven causing her chest to jerk, but she didn’t make a single sound.

Mando watched from behind her, quietly watching as the ship veered around small debris that floated in Hoth’s gravity, expertly guiding the ship out of the dangerous field. Her hand hovered over the switch that would send them into hyperspace. Her silence was a question, not just of if he was ready… but if he trusted her.

“Go.” he finally answered.

He pushed his shoulders against the wall behind her, preparing himself to feel the force press him back even tighter against the wall. Her ministrations over the controls were precise, even though the weight of force was pinning him back, she was able to smoothly operate until the streaking blue and purple lights of hyperspace lit up the cockpit.

Her chair spun around to face him, her small frame being swallowed by the chairs harness that she had pulled over her shoulders. Wisps of damp hair and sweat covered her forehead, and her eyes locked onto his with a mix of emotions that Mando couldn’t quite read.

“You’re the man my grandmother has talked about…” She searched up and down his body, carefully taking stock of his frame, lingering on the blasters that were strapped to his thigh and hip.

“I hadn’t met her before last night.” He answered, feeling like his response was inadequate.

“She told me you needed your ship refueled… but I had to move it.” She explained, pulling the harness off of her shoulders. “I didn’t expect for any of this to happen.” Her voice dropping a little. He knew what she was talking about, despite her lack of real conversation. “I wasn’t busy so I tried to clean up some of your wiring boxes…” she kept explaining herself, trying to bargain her value to him.

He let her continue, finding a similarity in her tone with the bounties that were sitting in carbonite slabs in the back of his ship. He saw her nervousness in the way she began chewing on her lip after she had run out of things to say.

“Where am I supposed to take you?” he asked, seeing a flinch of uncertainty cross over her face. He mentally chided himself for sounding so harsh. It wasn’t like intimidating her was going to benefit him at this point.

“I- I don’t know.” She frowned, still chewing on her bottom lip.

He shook his head, letting his frustration and lack of understanding in the situation show for the first time towards her. “Then why are you here, and why were those men after you?”

She huffed out a breath and ran a hand through her sweaty hair, pulling it off her forehead. “There’s a man named Vir… he came to Hoth and when he met me he tried to date me, I guess. But when I turned him down, it only made things worse.” She stood up, and leaned her back against the controls, “He killed my grandfather as a sick kind of punishment. And since then he’s been obsessed, following me around and threatening me constantly.”

Mando listened, taking in everything that the old woman -her grandmother- had said and finally put all of the pieces together. That old woman had been protecting the girl, and he was becoming more and more in awe of how fierce the old woman’s loyalty was. Even her last sentence was spent holding the him to a promise of security.  

“But now everyone is dead because of me…” she admitted quietly, before looking up to Mando with more tears in welling in her eyes. “You have to get away from me, whoever you are. You don’t know me and none of this is your problem.” She nodded at her own decision, seemingly satisfied at her plan.

They stood in silence again, her waiting on him to say something and Mando just looking at her under the cover of his helmet. She wore layered shirts, with a coat -too large for her- cloaking any real idea of what her shape really looked like. Her boots were tiny, and snow still clung to them. In the back of his mind, he weighed his options but kept thinking about the old woman’s voice: “I’m giving you something special…”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by giving her to him, but what he didn’t want to admit was that he was going to keep that promise.

“I can see you fly well, and I could use a co-pilot. I’ll show you where you can put any of your things.” He said turning away toward the ladder, with a small motion for her follow him.

He passed his own room, and pushed open the next door and let her walk in. She glanced around, and sat down on the corner of the small cot. She shrugged off her huge coat, and looked to Mando with a very innocent look.

“I can’t stay here for long.” She said with a sigh, “But I appreciate you helping me.”

He nodded and left without another word.

Mando retreated back to the cockpit, only to review everything the woman had said, and the story that the girl had told him. All of it raced around, especially the girls sweet voice that gave him a dizzying head rush. It sounded so pretty. He thought rubbing the forehead of his helmet like it would help subside the feeling of drinking too much spotchka. She looked so young, but the way she carried herself added to his confusion about her true age.

The old woman was her grandmother, but that didn’t help him get a better idea either. The dead man on Hoth had been after the girl for a at least a couple years so she was most likely in her early twenties. But one thing stuck in Mando’s head above all the images of her and her sugary voice in his head.

Seeing her silhouette framed by hyperspace, and the silky sound of her voice contrasted to his own was exceptionally difficult to ignore. She hadn’t been on his ship two hours and the idea of getting another glimpse at her was already pushing itself into the forefront of his mind. Mando always thought about anything ten different ways before proceeding. But for the second time in his life his gut had overridden his judgement. The second time.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know when I see a second chance sitting right in front of me.” The old woman had said.

A second chance.

His second chance.

If anything it only made his head spin more. What was it about himself that had given the old woman a sense of him needing a ‘second chance’? Not only that, but why did he need one? His only thought was Grogu, and how difficult it was to let his foundling go despite his knowledge that there was somewhere better for the child. He had fought desperately to return the child to his own people, but when the time came, he could barely let go.

Was he really supposed to take care of her?

If he was a different man, he would let her off on a safe planet before heading back to drop off his bounties. Leave her with a enough supplies and credits to settle herself somewhere far enough away from those men… and himself. But as he sat down in the pilots chair, and looked out at space flying past him, he acknowledged that he wasn’t that man. The idea of an old woman with wise eyes telling him that the girl on his ship was his second chance, was not only wildly dangerous, but something that he was already preparing himself for.

#the mandalorian #mando #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #secondchance

[nixcomix1]

@morphobluetravels has done it again!!! In their kindness, they made another moodie for a chapter of my story: “The Redemption of Kylo Ren”

WHY ARE THESE JUST SO PRETTY!!!??? Link to full story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24246223/chapters/58426126 Excerpt - Kylo Ren dream-shares with Rey and draws her into his memories of water. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The sky blooms purple-black above them as pin prick stars twinkle in the veil. There are two moons, one orange and one white, both in deep crescents as the planet blocks them from their sun. They stand at the lip of a pond, hands clasped together. The water seems dark under the night sky… until they see it. Bright flickers of neon green. Her gasp is audible, and it makes him wonder if she’s ever seen this shade of color before. If not, perhaps he's given her something new to look for in the rainbow. The phosphorescence licks its way up the lake in a stripe before dimming down to nothing. After a moment it happens again, but in a different pattern this time, making the water look like it’s pulsing. Breathing in blazes. Even he feels reverent in this place. “I don’t know how I got here the first time,” he admits. “I had just been sent to Skywalker. My family left me at the Temple that night without telling me I was staying behind. I got… intense… things were floating everywhere – shattering. I was losing control and terrified that I would get in trouble again, so I knew I had to hide it. I had to get away.” Surprising her, he gets down on one knee and starts to slowly loosen her boot. “So I ran. I ran until my body was on fire. I ran until I didn’t know how to breathe.” She allows him to lift her foot, unearthing her toes before moving to the next. “And then I ran some more…” Still kneeling, he begins on his own battered footwear, politely placing both hers and his beside one other, standing at attention. Rising and looking distant, he pads his way over to the lake across the soft, dampened sand. The water that ripples over his feet is only faintly cool, refreshing more than anything. The green shimmer lights up in arcs while he watches, making him feel both lost and found all at once. Splashes echo behind him and he turns to see her awe as she takes in this meaningful place. Closing her eyes, she listens to the nighttime chirps of life all around her as she tiptoes ahead of him and deeper in. To her ankles. To her calves. Her knees. Thighs. Clothes soaking through while her lids remain shuttered. He sees her breathe in the sweet floral air and it reminds him to take a moment to do the same. “Will you teach me something, Ben?” He wants to say, ‘Politics?’ but, instead he answers, “Anything.” She looks at him in three-quarter view and her face is mischievous. “Teach me to swim.” He shyly tips his head down, his lopsided grin dimpling his cheeks. “Clothes on or off?” he challenges. She rolls her eyes, her answer being to simply walk deeper into the water in her full regalia. Sans shoes, of course. He remembers the night he’d silenced her fury by accident when the Force connected them. Roguishly, he decides to repeat the moment and quietly slips off his shirt, placing it in the water and letting the damp seep in and sink it out of sight - after all, this is only a dream. Leaning forward, he lifts his feet from the bottom, shoulders working in the water to pull himself closer to her. She’s up to her breast line now and adorably wincing over the coolness that laps at her skin. Touching down to the ground again, he stands closely behind her. Slowly, he lifts his large hands to place them over her forearms, coming dangerously close in doing so. It makes him feel something in his body. A kind of anticipation. An instinct telling him to hold her. To touch her. To have her touch him. Instead, he lifts her hands above the water. “Move forward until your shoulders are all the way under. Then, I want you to lift your feet.” He can sense her apprehension, even without the Force. Reassuring her, he reminds, “I’ve got you.” She moves forward a step but stops short. “There aren’t any, um… fish… in here, right?” He lets out a short, quiet laugh. “No, no – you’re fine.” She turns to smile at him but, when she spots his bare chest, her eyes widen and snap away faster than anything, making him smirk. When she turns to look again and whips away just as fast, he downright grins. If this was a game, he just won. "Nice to see that some things don't change." "You like embarrassing me?" she says, her voice a little pitchy. "Isn't it obvious?" he taunts. Smug and completely satisfied, he releases her to regain her composure while he dips under the water, tipping his head back and soaking his hair for a moment. The non-silence of being underwater fills his ears with his own heartbeat while imaginary stars dapple the sky. He silently vows to find this place again someday... and to bring her. Once he succeeds. Once he wakes her up. Remembering her request, he lifts himself from his thoughts and stands once more, catching her looking at him. Her expression is intense. It's like she's watching every droplet run down his neck and shoulders. When he lifts himself fully, her eyes light on fire, gaze flowing up and down over his skin as her bottom lip pulls between her teeth, catching there for the briefest of moments. Her face is flushed pink, and the sight of it does something to him. No one has ever looked at him like this before. It makes him feel powerful in a completely new kind of way. Strong. Bold. When she moves to turn her face away again, he reaches out and catches her jawline. Tipping her back in his direction, he murmurs, “Eyes on me.” Facing each other this time, he holds her hands once more, leading her in deeper but never looking away. In the darkness of the water, a gleam of green shoots between them, though he doesn’t even see it. He just sees her. “Now, knees up.” Rey's weight shifts in his grasp as he steadies her, letting her flutter her legs. Her eyes are wide open as she glances to the water and then to his face repeatedly before letting out a sound of incredulity. “Is this floating?!” she chirps. His smile is unending. “No. Not yet, anyway.” He shifts his position slightly and brings them shallower. “Hold on to me like this for a second...” Lifting her hands, he places them to grip against his bare shoulders and her nails dig in slightly, a heady sensation that's now burned into his mind. He moves a palm behind her back and places his other one feather-light against the front of her hip. “I need you to trust me.” The words carry weight. Her eyes meet his and she nods. “I trust you.” And he dips her down. The back of her head parts the water all the way to her hairline and he brings her hips up towards the sky. “Straighten your legs out and let the air fill your lungs all the way.” She grins. When he hums a question mark at her she squints her mirthful eyes to the sky. “Your voice sounds funny.” He realizes her ears are under the surface. It must be another first. Smiling down at her, he can’t help but ask, “Do you like what you hear?” and her grin widens. They stay like this, her floating in his arms, eyes closed to the night sky, while he keeps finding her in his field of vision no matter which way his face is turned. A smirk tugs at her lips as she opens one eye to peek at him. “Stop watching me, Ben.” He grins unabashedly as the water nudges her hair into a halo. “I find I rather like watching you.” The water breaks as she lifts a cool hand to press against his cheek. She says nothing, but he doesn’t think she needs to. Instead, her fingers slide up to wind themselves in the hair at his temple, her palm sliding against his unmarred face. He closes his eyes and tilts into her, lips parted ever so slightly. “Rey?” “Hmm?” “Come to me next time. Come into my mind. Then, you’ll never have to see Jakku again. Come to me.” His plush lips caress the softness of her palm before catching at the calloused ridges where the base of her fingers come together. “Please.” And that word is an ache. A wound. His brows are twined together in insecurity as he bares himself to her once more. Her thumb traces over his parted mouth and he opens his eyes to her. The longing he sees there must reflect his own. “I will.” And like that, she’s gone.

#reylofic #reylo #reylo fic #reylo ao3

[fanfic-cave]

Request incoming 😄 Since I love your OC Sera so much and Hunter / Omega as Dad / Daughter how about they teach Omega random daily stuff? Like swimming, dancing, singing, ice skating, baking or building an enormous sand castle. Something nice. And then the rest of the batch comes and they all have fun together. Like the big family that they are (at least in my head)

Okay that's not specific at all but I love the random nice familytime 💙

Breather

Rating: SFW/PG-13

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Hunter x Fem Jedi!OC

Warnings: People in swimsuits/swimming, kissing/romance, star wars swears, alotta fluff.

Summary: Sera and the Bad Batch decide to take a day off. They enjoy some time relaxing and having fun, and Sera gets the opportunity to teach Omega how to swim.

Authors note: This is in response to a request, and I was really feeling some fluff. I like the idea of writing a chapter or two where its more relaxed and they get to spend some happy fun times together. Hope you enjoy!

@mangoberry99

The swimwear felt strange against Sera’s body. I don’t think I’ve ever worn something like this, she contemplated internally.

She frowned and looked at herself. She had picked this up at her last stop at a planet with a decent market, where they sold good clothes. The suit was a more modest 2 piece; swim shorts and a top with thin straps, and it exposed some of her back as well as a small strip of her midriff. The shorts were an emerald green, and the top was patterned with the same color green along with white and brown.

This is kriffing weird. She never wore anything so exposed, or tight. Not in public anyways. She then shoved away her thoughts, gathered her belongings, and ran off to meet up with the rest of the group.

They all really needed a break. Doing supply runs and odd jobs while avoiding being hunted by the empire was surprisingly draining. Sera had the idea that the group all go explore the lake just a few miles off of where she currently took up residence. She had crossed it several times while exploring on her own. The lake was a decent size, in a remote area, and it didn’t look like any creatures were living inside it, which seemed as good as it could get.

Sera wrapped herself up in a cloak she had and headed down to the lake, ready to meet them there. After walking a few minutes through a forested area, she could see the lake within distance, and noticed everyone was there.

Hunter was with Omega, they were both by the shallow part. Omega was kicking up water and laughing, clearly enjoying herself. Wrecker was already completely soaked, and was swimming more towards the deeper end, although he looked a bit awkward as he swam. Crosshair wasn’t near the water, and had opted to sit on one of the folding chairs they brought along. Tech was closer to the edge of the water, datapad in hand, and he looked to be researching, as well as taking dedicated notes. Echo had joined Crosshair at the safe distance away from the water, but he seemed to be relaxing. Sera had noted they all wore their swim clothes as she had requested.

“Hey!” She smiled and waved at the group, still holding onto her cloak. Everyone’s heads turned in her direction. “Sera!” Omega waved back enthusiastically. She wore a one piece swimsuit and had already gotten wet. She ran over to greet Sera, Hunter following close behind.

“This was such a good idea!” She jumped excitedly. “Of course it was kid.” Sera smiled at her and ruffled her hair, to which Omega responded by laughing. Sera’s eyes went up to Hunter now. He had green swim shorts on and wasn’t wearing a shirt, and it looked like he looked like he had been splashed a few times. Sera drew from her memory the last time she saw Hunter's shirtless body when he was injured back in Dantooine, and suddenly she felt her heart rate pick up.

“Hey Hunter.” Sera did her best to sound casual, and also made a point to stare at his face, not his chest. Hunter smirked at her, and then nodded in greeting. “I have to agree with Omega,” Tech began speaking. “This trip has given me the opportunity to analyze the flora on this planet, and a body of freshwater seems to affect the plant growth nearby…” Tech went on and Sera began to zone out. After a minute of pretending to listen, Sera turned her head over to Echo and Crosshair.

“Hey! Are you two going to be lazy banthas the whole time?” She shouted at the two clones who were several feet from the waters edge. Echo lifted his head up, and seemed irritated at Sera. “I have a feeling that going in water isn’t going to turn out well for me.” He then lifted his prosthetic hand and gestured to the rest of his body. “Oh.” Sera felt a little bad for just shouting at him. Of course the water would mess with his machine parts. She quickly wrote him off and turned her attention to Crosshair. “What’s your excuse, blaster brain?” Sera found herself growing a little more comfortable with Crosshair lately, and she expressed it by calling him whatever bad name or insult came to her head.

“Kark off.” Crosshair replied. Sera liked to think he was feeling the same way, as they both threw the insults back and forth at each other like it meant nothing. “Crosshair can’t swim!” Wrecker yelled to the group, still swimming in the water. He laughed and splashed water in Crosshairs direction, but only got Hunter, Omega, and Sera slightly wet. Crosshair growled in Wreckers direction, to which Sera raised an eyebrow at. “So if we threw you into the lake-”

“Try me, mir’sheb.” Crosshair glared at Sera warningly. She laughed at him and raised her hands up, palms facing him. “Fine, fine.” He rolled his eyes at her, and continued to sit in his chair. Sera felt Omega grab her hand and she looked down at her.

“Hunter was helping me learn to swim, could you come too, Sera?” Omega looked up at you eagerly. Sera looked at Hunter and he shrugged at you, trying to convey he didn’t mind one way or the other. Kriff it. “Sure Omega,” Sera tossed aside her cloak, along with her insecurities. “By the time we’re through, you’ll be swimming laps.” Omega cheered to herself. Sera smiled down at her and began walking into the water.

While walking past him, Sera looked to Hunter and made eye contact with him for a brief moment. He had a wide eye, nearly slack jawed look adopted on his face. When their eyes met each other, he quickly corrected the expression and looked away from her, heading into the water with the two of them. Is he blushing? Sera smiled to herself at the thought.

Hunter and Sera actually made a decent team with teaching Omega. He helped keep her afloat, and taught her the basic form in simple terms. Sera would step in to encourage Omega, or join Hunter in explaining or correcting her form, even swimming alongside her. Omega was a surprisingly fast learner, and was paddling after 15 minutes had passed.

“Are you sure this is your first time swimming?” Sera remarked questioningly, as Omega circled around her in the lake. “Yup! You guys are great teachers!” Sera doubted that they were that good, and chalked it up to the fact that she was raised on Kamino, which was a saltwater planet. It probably didn’t make sense, but she didn’t want to think about any alternative reasoning.

“That’s not us kid, you’re a good learner.” Hunter added his comment as she continued swimming. He was watching her closely, and Sera could tell he was being protective over her. The thought made her laugh to herself, since Omega had grown to be plenty capable on her own. Who was she kidding though? Sera was pretty sure everyone was protective of her. After all, she had been keeping a close eye on Omega too.

The afternoon passed by quickly. Sera and Wrecker pulled a prank and managed to splash Crosshair. With Wreckers strength and Sera’s use of the force, their combined efforts was just enough for the water to reach Crosshair. He was pissed of course, but they all had a good laugh. Omega and Wrecker played games in the water, with Sera occasionally joining. Echo had dozed off a few times. Eventually, Tech dipped his toes in the lake and surprised Sera with how adept he was at swimming. As the sun dipped down and it began to grow dimmer, everyone decided it was a good time to head back.

“We have to come back again!” Omega remarked, towel around her shoulders as she walked ahead with Wrecker and Echo. Crosshair was at the head of the group, and had been the first to start leaving. “I’m sure we’ll get to come again.” Sera spoke to Omega, and really did hope they could find time to do things like this, instead of missions and hiding. Sera stopped and everyone in front of her continued walking. She tried to dry herself off with her cloak, still feeling soaked. The cloak didn't do much, and it was now too wet to be of any use. She felt herself shiver a bit.

“Here.” Hunter approached her from behind, offering her a large towel. He was in close proximity to her, and she could hear him breathing. She had to concentrate to keep her own breathing steady. “Thanks.” She took the towel and wrapped it around herself, then continued walking. Hunter joined her and they walked together, now more distant from the rest of the group. Being alone with him reminded her of the last time they were alone together. Right. The kissing. She felt her heart skip a beat as she remembered it.

“Thank you, for today.” Hunter pulled Sera from her thoughts. She realized there had been at least a minute of silence. Sera continued to look forward and smiled. “It was no problem. Thanks for coming.” She smiled in his direction and he glanced at her. She felt herself shiver again, and couldn’t tell if it was because she was cold, or if it was a reaction from his stare.

“Still cold?” Hunter asked. “Just a bit.” Sera answered quickly, and looked away from him. “Thank you. For the towel, though-” Her stammering was interrupted when Hunter put his arm around her. He rubbed her toweled arm on the opposite side, trying to warm her up with some friction. Sera was caught off guard, and audibly gasped. “Sorry, this should help you warm up, if you’re okay with it.” Hunter looked down to her questioningly, and had stopped his movements.

Sera reached up and grabbed his hand as she began to speak. “Of course, you just surprised me. Not the first time that's happened though.” She smiled up at him, almost smirking at the memories that flickered through her mind. Hunter laughed quietly at her expression. “Yeah, you get your fair share of it too.” He pulled her in as he spoke, and Sera could feel his warmth from his body, with the more exposed part of her arm making contact with his skin. Electricity sparked through her body from feeling his touch.

They walked in silence for another minute, content with sharing each other's company, and body heat too. “We’re almost back.” Sera spoke up after some time had passed. The path was familiar to her, and she recognized they would turn a corner up ahead and her home would be within sight. Hunter stopped, and with his arm around Sera she stopped along with him. She looked up to him questioningly. “You okay?” She watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

Suddenly, he turned and pulled her into him, planting a kiss on her lips. A small squeaking noise escaped her, and then she relaxed and returned the kiss. One of Hunter's hands was on Seras cheek, the other wrapped around her, palm flat on her back. Sera reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in and herself up to better reach him. Although the kiss was gentle, she could feel the passion behind it. He stroked her cheek first, and then ran his fingers through her hair. Sera felt a sigh escape her, and she returned his kisses more eagerly now. After a minute of kissing, Hunter was the first to break away, but returned to plant a kiss on her forehead.

“Well, I didn’t expect that.” Sera looked up to him as he pulled back to see her face. “I had to do that again. I would say sorry, except I’m not.” Hunter held her gaze with no hesitation, and Sera could tell he was sincere. “Well, I’m glad you’re not.” She reached up to kiss his cheek, and they stood for a moment, embracing each other. She listened to his breathing, leaning her head on his shoulder. Hunter made small circles on her back with his hand, and rested his head on top of hers. She wished they could stay here like this.

“I have a feeling we won’t get to have another day like today for a while.” Sera nodded after Hunter spoke. They seemed to be on the same wavelength more often than not lately, almost like they knew what the other was thinking. She pulled away and sighed. “Who knows. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” She and Hunter looked at each other for another moment, and Sera could tell her lack of confidence in her statement showed. She then turned away and began to walk forward.

Let me have this, Sera thought as they walked together. Hunter intertwined his hand with hers. Just let me- let them breathe for a minute, before we get thrown back into the flames.

She didn’t know who she was pleading with internally, but she continued to silently hope they could keep their moment of peace.

#tbb #the bad batch #clone force 99 #hunter #crosshair #echo #wrecker #tech #omega #jedi #oc story #hunter x jedi #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #tcw #the clone wars #asks

[hankwritten]

The Weight of Other People’s Thoughts

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for @lilythedragon05, Scotland

It was a bad idea to follow that tugging cord at the center of his being, the one that called him to Ullapool, and he never would have dared to entertain it if he knew it would have brought him here.

Jane sat by the ocean, stone’s throw from the town, but his distasteful frown kept his eyes locked firmly ahead instead of gazing dubiously at it. What had he been thinking? Coming to Ullapool had only make him feel worse, not better, a smirch against Tavish’s memory if there ever was one. Rubbing in Tavish’s face that he’d never go home again—and here Jane was, free to frolic across the whole damn planet, even if it took him to stupid countries ending in ‘land’.

He leaned further over his knees, barely feeling the sea breeze as he thought about his dead friend.

His murdered friend, he reminded himself. Murdered by someone who he thought he could trust, who now had to carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life.

Everywhere Jane looked it reminded him of Tavish. Maybe that’s why he’d come: self-flagellation. Appropriate punishment. Or maybe he was so desperate not to forget, he’d take the pain that came with remembering. Torturing himself truly, since he could look on the hills and surrounding coast that he had once only known through enthusiastic descriptions, see for himself the places where a young Tavish had played with dummy-grenades. He could imagine him talking to the local shopkeeps. He could practically see him walking up this very path, groceries in one hand, a newspaper filled with fried fish in the other as he took a large bite out of it-

Wait.

Tavish stopped dead, his face enveloped in utter shock. Still mid-chew, he said, “Jdra-ne?”

Jane leapt to his feet. “Apparition!” He pointed an accusing finger at the offending spirit. “Do not think for a second I will be cowed into repentance by the spectral manifestation of my guilt!”

Tavish nearly choked as he tried to swallow his bite of fish. “I…what?”

“Ghosts serve no purpose on my journey to recovery,” Jane continued. “Not even ones that look like my dead friend! Be gone creature of the other world!”

“What I- I’m not bloody dead.”

Jane squinted at him. He definitely didn’t look dead, totally opaque, no fettered chains representing his sins in life and his guilt over failing to help his fellow Man.

“…Are you sure?” Jane pressed.

“You’d think someone would know if they were dead,” Tavish grumbled poignantly, now glaring at Jane for some reason.

“I killed you though. It was-” -pickaxe right through the sternum, crushing, all the red bits coming out when they should have been in- “That was definitely fatal.”

“Aye, was, but I managed to limp my was back into Respawn range. Took a better part of an hour, but I made it.”

There was something odd to Tavish’s voice, something he wasn’t saying, but the realization that he might actually-seriously-really be alive was starting to set in and Jane was too afraid to believe it.

He took a step closer, past the bench he’d been enjoying his solitude at and completing a full circle around the Demoman. Tavish’s head followed him all the while, up until Jane came to a stop in front of him. “…Promise you are not a ghost?”

“I’m not a ghost,” Tavish said, as convincingly honest as he’d always been. Not that his acting skills hadn’t covered for his mendacity before-

-no, no that was a trick, it all turned out to be a lie a damn lie-

“Fine then. You’re not.” Though Jane would keep his eyes peeled for phantasmal anyway. “What the hell are you doing here then?”

“I live here,” Tavish huffed. “Gravel Wars are over, wasn’t going to spend the rest of my years in some blighted desert. Better question is what are you doing here, yank?”

Crap. Well, maybe a half-truth would suffice. “You always talked so much about Scotland I thought…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Tavish stood there, one hand still clasped around his groceries. The moment dragged on, vast seas of unsaid things between them, of regrets still festering, to which he ended with, “would you like me to show you around?”

Jane looked down, trying not to stare at his shoes but instead at the foreign soil around them. “…Sure. Why not.”

“Everything is incredibly vertical,” Jane complained as they climbed up yet another hill Tavish insisted was part of the journey.

“Aye, that’s why they call it the Highlands, BLU.”

Jane hated how fucking smug he sounded. Hated, and missed it all the same, missed how this bastard could set a fire in his gut just with one of his damn smiles.

“And there she is,” the Demoman said proudly as the crested the final ridge.

“Damn. Really went to crap in the last couple centuries.”

“Oi, don’t point fingers at me! I’ve only been around for forty of those.”

DeGroot Keep was shriveled and hunchbacked since Jane had last seen it, folding under its own legacy as ages had eaten the tallest spires first and chewed its way down to the cob. Still, he could just make out the choke points, the parapets, the places he used to go charging into with his mêlée weapon held high—all sanded down by the years, the vaguest memories of control points where a portal in time had briefly allowed Jane to witness their existence.

“So what,” he asked, following Tavish into the slight dip in the Highlands where the Keep nestled, “you live in here like some sort of anti-Italian?”

“An anti- what now?”

“Anti-Italians! Despises sun, allergic to garlic, doesn’t show up in mirrors, no sex life. Basic literary reference, RED.”

Tavish rolled his eye. “No, I’m not squatting in the dilapidated castle. Got a perfectly nice home down in the village, I just happen to have inherited this along with…all the other crap.” He waved his hand. “I’ve considered shelling out to having it restored but…dunno. Seeing it go from its heyday to this makes me think that in another couple hundred years it’ll just fall apart again.”

He sat on a piece of tumbled rock, one that used to hang over the Keep’s gate, a bright and shining keystone now used as a stool. Jane joined him.

“Don’t get much of this at home, do you? Old crap. Yer country’s still a wee babe you know, nothing’s even falling apart yet.”

“Incorrect!” Jane amended. “There are plenty of old things in America!”

“For last time lad, Thomas Edison wasn’t immortal, and he didn’t be build a second Shangri-La under Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“Your statements reveal both your ignorance and your compunction, but I was actually talking about mounds.”

“Mounds,” Tavish repeated dubiously.

“Yes! Mounds! Fourteen hundred years ago Americans were building ceremonial mounds in order to track celestial events! They look like animals from the top, lynx, bears, fish, all that crap. I used to walk next to this bird one every day on the way to school.”

Tavish blinked at him, tilting his head. “No offense Jane, but including Native people usually isn’t in your worldview. Where’d you even learn all ‘o that?”

“My mother taught me, so think insinuating more cyclops—lest you show disrespect against her memory and I am forced to take out your other socket!”

Tavish raised his hands defensively, but there was a smile creeping at the corner. “Alright, alright, I get ye. A Mum’s honor is a serious thing.”

“Hm. Good.” Jane glanced ahead, suddenly afraid of lapsing back into silence, as though Tavish would start to slip away from him if they did. “How is your mother?”

“Ah…she passed some years back.”

“…I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright.” Tavish paused. “I still see her sometimes.”

“Metaphorically or…?”

Tavish glanced at him, but then away just a quickly, as though frightened of what he might see. “I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s alright with you.” Instead, he stared ahead, the sun setting between its cradle within the mountains. “Heh. At least there’s something that’s the same no matter where you go. Always a sunset.”

“Guess so.”

Still, Jane found he liked this one better than the ones back home. At least, better than all the ones he’d seen before he’d met Tavish.

The next day was spent in the village, and Jane couldn’t help but yearn for more of Tavish’s time, more of his attention. His friend. His friend who was still alive. Tavish had a kind word for every person they passed, all of whom didn’t seem to notice Jane at all, simply starting up a conversation with their fellow local and submitting to the rhythm of the morning. Breakfast was some sort of potato scone, but Jane wasn’t hungry, so he just walked beside Tavish as the other man ate. They found themselves at the same bench where they’d first run into each other.

“So,” Tavish asked. “Ullapool everything you thought it would be?”

“Hm. It’s…nice. It is obviously not perfect for geographical reasons entirely outside of its control, but. I understand how it made you the man you are.”

“Me? Nah.” Tavish wiped off his mouth with his sleeve. “I made myself like this.”

Again, he wouldn’t look at Jane, wouldn’t say what they were both thinking. That things had gone wrong, that they had both fucked up. One of them more than the other, but Jane had found him again, and maybe they could still figure something out, still have time to unearth all that they had deemed too dangerous and buried in the sand.

Jane reached forward, and put his hand over where Tavish’s was resting on the bench.

And watched it pass straight through.

Jane sprang away. “I knew it! I knew you were a ghost!”

Likewise, Tavish stood up sharply. “I am not. I bloody told you I was’t.”

“Liar! I will not be swayed by any more perjury from your ethereal mouth!”

“I’m not lying!” Tavish snarled at him, his eye dark and narrowed, burning hotter than the words would imply. “I never lied. I never wanted any of-”

“Blasphemy!”

“Would you just listen for-!”

“You cannot guilt me apparition! For I know that-”

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up!” Tavish’s fist closed around the neck of his scrumpy bottle, half drained before noon, and threw it full force at Jane’s head.

Jane raised an arm to block the incoming blow, but the impact never arrived. A second ticked by, then two, then three, and slowly he lowered his forearm to reveal the panting Demoman behind it, shoulders heaving and an inscrutable expression tearing across his features.

“How’s that for the truth you bleeding idiot,” he said.

Jane looked to Tavish, then rotated his neck slowly, staring at the bottle that had landed in the grass behind him. He blinked, willing what he was looking at to make sense, to suddenly disappear and go back to where things were a second ago. To believe he hadn’t seen that bottle connected with his own nose.

There was something he didn’t want to do, but he did it anyway, turning his gaze forward inch by agonizing inch, staring down at his own hands. Fully taking how translucent they were.

The moment shattered, Tavish tore his eye away. “Fuck. Fuck I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve…”

Jane was still looking at his hands. There was panic, deep and overwhelming rising within him, but there was no raised pulse to accompany it, no sweat on the back of his neck.

He lifted his chin to Tavish. “What? I don’t…”

“I didn’t die,” Tavish said thickly. “You did. I killed you and I walked off and you just bled out for who knows how long and-”

-the pickaxe but also a sword, just as deadly buried two feet into his chest and the man above him trying to shove it in a few extra inches, strangled screaming as it pushed deeper-

Jane hadn’t been paying attention to the last half of Tavish’s muttered confession. The Demoman was crying now, pawing furiously at his one lone eye as stared out valley below them, looking anywhere but at Jane as his sclera turned red.

“I’m sorry,” he sputtered. “Christ Jane I’m so fucking sorry. If you came to haunt me or whatever I just- I just want you to know that you can’t hate me more than I hate myself. That it’s been killing me every day since.”

He collapsed on the bench, curling away from Jane as he buried his face in his hands.

It could have been some sort of trick. A ghost bottle or…no Jane wouldn’t even try. He attempted to remember what flight he had come in on but couldn’t. He grasped for how many years since the Gravel Wars had ended, and couldn’t find the answer.

Jane was a ghost, yet everything still hurt as much as it had when he had lived. Immaterial, and he still so badly wanted to touch Tavish’s hand.

He sat on the bench next to him. “I didn’t come to make you feel bad, Tavish.”

“Then why did you come?” It sounded like it was meant to be venomous, but instead it only sounded empty—empty and wet with tears, like a plastic bag trampled into a puddle.

Jane looked down at his hands. His useless, ghost hands that he could still knit together. “I…I wanted to see you,” he said truthfully. “I missed you.”

Tavish looked at him, bleary-eyed. He whispered, “I missed you too. So damn much.”

“Whatever I was doing before, I missed you enough to come here. To someplace I thought you would be.”

A panicked jolt crossed Tavish’s face. “You’re not leaving, are you?” The same man who a moment ago thought Jane had come to smother him with guilt was despondent at the idea that Jane might go after all, that he wouldn’t get a chance to hurt himself with his own regret anymore.

“No, no not yet,” Jane said. He tried his best to wrap and arm around Tavish’s shoulder. The mortal shivered where their skin met.

“Okay,” Tavish said quietly. “Okay. Good. Thank you. I don’t think I can…When I saw you sitting up here I couldn’t believe it could be fore something good. That the only reason you’d want to haunt me would be because you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

It was true. Even though he remembered now, remember lying there, thinking how they’d killed each other, Jane had only ever hated the man who’d believed the TV’s lies.

“I really did come because I was thinking of you. Missing you.” Jane paused. “Today was fun. I’m sure you have a lot of other places to show me, right private?”

“…Sure. Sure whatever you want.” Tavish wiped at his nose. “I’m sorry Jane.”

“It’s alright Tavish.” He held his head in the crook of Tavish’s neck. “I’m sorry too.”

#demosolly #boots n bombs #tf2 fanfiction

[chokemeanakin]

First Kiss - Anakin Skywalker x gn Reader

Summary: Anakin treats you to your first kiss ;)

masterlist

Read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469749

It happened on Tatooine. Anakin didn’t want to come back, but you had begged him to show you where he grew up.

“I grew up with Obi-Wan, travelling the galaxy,” Anakin corrected, a scowl clouding his face. “Not on Tatooine. I was just a slave there.”

“But it’s got your history,” you argued. “It’s where Qui-Gon found you. It’s where you build C-3PO. It’s where your--”

“It’s where my mother died,” he bit, jaw tense and eyes shadowed. “I know.”

“Maybe we could visit her.”

Anakin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He did that a lot, ever since he came back from the dark side, to calm the anger inside of him. His hands clenched over the controls of the pod, then suddenly relaxed. When he opened his eyes, he was considerably less tense.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I think she’d like that.”

*********************

“I hate sand,” Anakin muttered as he hopped down from the ship. His boots landed on the ground, sending dust to cloud up around him. He swatted it away from his face.

“Oh, quit pouting,” you take his flesh hand, then raise it over your head with both of yours. “You’re home!”

“This is not my home,” he tried to sound angry, but his face softened when he looked at the smile on your face. He could see you were excited-- for what, he still didn’t understand. You would have to stay in the remote parts of the planet because Anakin would never be welcomed back after what he did to the sand people. You wouldn’t even be able to see the market or Jabba the Hut’s pub, or the place he used to live. Not that Anakin ever wanted to go back to any of those places, anyways. They came for one reason-- to see his mother.

Anakin led the way to the grave. It was just a plank of wood sticking up from the sand, so you weren’t sure how he even knew this was hers. But it was the only thing out here for hundreds of miles, and the somber look on his face was proof enough. This was his mother.

You sat on the sand in front of the wooden plank, drawing shapes in the course minerals. You didn’t say anything, and neither did Anakin as he sat down beside you. The silence was comforting, and just being there was enough. Anakin closed his eyes and his face was peaceful.

You watched him, his face unmoving, as you thought about Anakin and his past. This was where his life began, as a slave, working in a junk shop while his mother struggled to get by. He built his own pod and would race because he was good at it. He built his mother a robot so she wouldn’t have to work so hard. He could still speak the language, as sometimes he would mutter what you were pretty sure were swears under his breath in the foreign tongue.

This was where the sweet, unsuspecting, hopeful little kid who loved flying and wanted to be a Jedi grew up with his mother. He had left her to do just that, and that was the beginning of the end. He never got to see his mother again before she died in his arms. The Jedi Council consistently underestimated his power and belittled him. They alienated him from the one thing he was destined to be. No wonder he turned to Darth Sidious, who was the only person who seemed to trust him in those harrowing times. He had fallen, like Icarus from the sun, like an angel from heaven, and fell and crashed and burned.

But now he was back. He was here again, that same sweet, hopeful boy who just wanted to be a Jedi. And he was sitting before you, with his mother-- a family again.

You were there for hours, until the suns began to lower in the sky. A gust of wind blew sand in your direction, and Anakin cracked an eye open.

“We should get to higher ground,” he said, standing and holding his mechanical arm out for you to take. He helped lift you up, and then brought you in close so he could share his cloak with you, shielding you from the sand. “The wind should let up as the suns go down. For now, we can watch them set from the pod.”

The two of you climbed on top of the ship and sat with your legs dangling off the edge, watching the double-suns inch toward the horizon. The sky seemed to bleed when the lower sun crashed into the sandy mountains, but then melted into a melon-orange glow as the higher sun followed in its wake. Soon, the whipping sand clouds calmed and the sky turned to a deep purple, then black, dotted with thousands of stars. You wondered how many times Anakin had watched this sunset as a kid, and if it’s changed at all since then.

“You’ve come a long way,” you told him, breaking the silence. He lowered his head and looked at his hands.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

“But you always come back,” you said. He lifted his head and his eyes connected with yours, but they were far away. He was deep in thought, and there was something warring behind them. Guilt.

“I left you,” he said, and it’s barely above a whisper. “We were friends, but as soon as Padme came along, I left you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You were happy with her.”

“I was happy with you, too.”

The confession caused an eruption of warmth to blossom in your chest. You smiled at him, a genuine, delighted smile, and knocked his shoulder playfully with yours.

“You have me now.”

At this, Anakin lifted his arm and wrapped it around your shoulder. He pulled you close for a moment, then relaxed with his arm still around you. For once in your life, you didn’t move away.

Anakin was warm. You basked in the weight of his arm around your shoulders, the feeling of his torso pressed against your side. Your thighs were touching and you realized that this is what you needed, this is what was missing all along, this warmth. Suddenly, you felt complete.

“Why haven’t you ever been with anyone?” Anakin asked suddenly. You tried to fight back the blush from your face at both the question and the fact that his fingers seemed to be absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm. Suddenly he paused. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you told him, and he resumed the patterns. “I just… have a hard time connecting with people.”

“Because of your mother?”

“Because of my mother,” you confirmed, and he coaxed every bit of information out of you on how your mother was strict and mean and cold and judgmental, and your father watched as she stripped your humanity away. He listened attentively as you told him of the suitors you’ve failed with in the past, and his arm tightened around you.

“I just get nervous,” you frowned, twisting your fingers in your lap. “Like the closer someone gets to me, the more they’re going to realize I actually suck.”

“I don’t think you suck,” Anakin said, his voice that sweet, comforting timbre with a gentle rasp that you loved so much. He always sounded like that when he’s spitting off orders to R2 when piloting, or late at night when he’s half asleep and doesn’t know what he’s saying. He also had that stupidly soft look in his eyes, and that half smile you’ve only ever seen directed at Padme.

God, he’s so pretty, you groaned inwardly, unintentionally tensing up when you realized just how close you were sitting. And he was looking at you so deeply, and man, his eyes can be so intense sometimes-- your face burned and you ducked your head so he couldn’t see.

He caught your chin with his gloved mechanical hand, cradling your chin between his index finger and thumb. He turned your face to look at him straight on, right in the eyes, and all you could see was Anakin. He was so close, and he was getting closer. Your eyes shifted to his lips, the same ones you had fantasized about for years, and hoped he couldn’t notice what you were thinking.

“Have you ever been kissed?” you could feel his breath on your lips, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You blinked madly, breathing erratic, palms sweating. Every single atom in your body was buzzing with energy-- excitement, nervousness, fear. You wanted to pull him in and kiss the living daylights out of him. You wanted to push him away and run as fast as you could until you got to a cliff high enough you could jump off and never wake up. You wanted to explode.

“You’re trembling,” Anakin’s eyes shifted across your figure for a split second. “Do you want me to let go?”

“No,” you begged him, your hands shooting out to hold onto him without your permission. They landed on his thighs, and your face burned harder.

“Do you want this?” his thumb stroke your chin. There was nothing you wanted more.

“Yes.”

You weren’t sure how he even heard you, as you barely uttered the word. But before you could do or say or think anything else, Anakin was leaning in. Your eyes closed on instinct and you felt, very softly, the brush of his lips against yours. The volcano was back in your chest, spurting lava all over your insides as you realized, holy shit Anakin Skywalker’s lips are on mine. Holy shit, Anakin Skywalker is kissing me!

The feather light touch tickled more than anything, and you could feel his mouth twitch into a slight smile as your hands’ grip tightened on his legs.

“This okay?” he pulled back a centimeter to ask. “You want more?”

“Yes,” you said again. It was the only thing you could manage to say, the one syllable word, and you began to wonder just how much of a lost cause you were if a simple brush of his lips against yours could render you brain dead.

He muttered an ‘Okay’ and then brought his flesh hand up to cup your face, fingers sliding along your neck and locking into your hair as his thumb stroked your cheek. You shivered, goosebumps staining every inch of your body with the touch. His gloved hand stayed on your chin, tilting it up toward him for easier access.

You closed your eyes again, and he leaned in, and this time he really, actually kissed you. He applied the slightest bit of pressure, then he did it again, shifting his head and capturing your lips in his, pulling back slowly only to do it again.

You were in heaven.

You forgot to respond at first. All you could think of in your short-circuited brain was how Anakin smelled so good and his lips were so warm and he tasted like the stars. Oh, he definitely knew what he was doing, with the way he was moving his lips and the confidence he did it with. You had no idea what you were doing, so you let instinct take control.

You unclenched one of your fists from his leg and raised it to place on his shoulder, pushing just a bit to get a bit of leverage, get a little bit closer so you could respond in earnest. You opened your mouth and closed it over his lips, your stomach cartwheeling as you hoped you were doing this right. It felt right. It felt good. So you kept doing it, and Anakin’s metal arm dropped from your chin and fell to your waist as you rose onto your knees, hands finally tangling into the soft curls of his hair, kissing him like you’ve wanted to kiss him for years.

When Anakin pulled back for air, you realized just how starved you were for oxygen as well. You didn't even notice. You panted, fingers loosening in his hair, lips tingling and burning. Anakin was looking at you like you were everything he wanted, and his eyes caught the twinkle of the stars. This is right where you belong, you realized, right here in Anakin Skywalker’s giving arms. Your breathing evened out, and you seemed to be thinking the same thing.

You leaned back in.

#anakin #anakinskywalker #fluff #starwars #starwarsprequals #firstkiss #soft anakin #anakin hates sand #anakin x reader #anakin x y/n #shmiskywalker

[reluctant-mandalore]

Mesh’la (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

Warnings: Fluff! Lots of fluffy Din who is a dork that doesn’t understand feelings. Pining on Din’s side. He’s in love uwu. 

Word Count: 1,664

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader 

a/n: Hey everyone! I know I finally got something out. I’ve felt better recently and everything seems like it's going to be ok! Thank you so much for all the kind words and of course thank you to the anon who sent in the request! This request was really fun to write! I love cute and embarrassed Din. **mesh'la = Beautiful

  The fierce sun beat down on the Mandalorian, its golden rays heating him to the core. The planet he had chosen for the next stop had turned out to be unbearably hot, and insufferably dry. The land it possessed was covered in waves of sand, which rolled beyond what the eyes could see. Its sky was overwhelmed with an unforgiving sun, which burned brighter than any star he had ever set sights on. The air was humid and stale as it sizzled over the horizon, effectively blurring his vision, even with the helmet shielding his face. His steps had sunk into the searing sand, his armor feeling heavy on his shoulders, like a burning cage he’d never escape. It was safe to say, Din utterly despised his choice in locations at this moment. 

  This is why he was ecstatic to be on his way back to Razor Crest. The job he had just completed had taken longer than expected, taking 2 days when it should have only taken hours at most. The job had gone sour quickly, but he somehow managed to get it done. Now, he couldn’t wait to leave this wasteland of a planet behind, with you and the child close in tow. 

  Finally, after what felt like an entirety to the beskar covered man, he spotted the ship coming into view. He felt himself pick up his pace the closer he approached, but found himself freezing in place when his gaze landed on you sprawled out in the sun. Instantly, he had felt a flush crawl up his body at the sight of you before him. 

  He had found you laying on your stomach, on a towel that you had set out in the sand, your eyes were closed and body lax. Your head rested on your hands, as you hummed a sweet little tune to yourself, obviously unaware of his return. This wasn’t the first time he had stumbled back after a job to find you lounging about outside the ship. So, this wouldn’t have been strange if it weren’t for the fact that you were laying out in the sun in nothing but a bikini. 

  At first he didn’t know what to think, or how to react to what was before him. His gaze had drifted over your form, as he gulped feeling himself grow even hotter underneath his armor. His mind had become muddled and mushy while trying to process your appearance. He felt himself paying attention to details of you that he had never noticed before, taking note of every unique feature he found. From every freckle to every scar, to how the sun kissed your skin with its glow, there was nothing that escaped his eyes. 

 This was probably the first time that he had ever really taken a good look at you. It was funny in a sense, he saw you every day, but in truth he had never paid much detail to your appearance. He knew you were beautiful, anyone could see that, but this was the first moment where he actually got to appreciate your beauty himself. He never really had the opportunity to do so before now.  

  At first, he was confused with what he was feeling. This wasn’t the first time his heart and mind had exploded with the thought of you. Some nights, he would lay in his cot for hours, wondering what it would be like to have you snuggled up close to him. To feel your warmth and have your body pressed into his. He would think about every little thing you said or did that day, no matter how trivial. From watching you play with the child, to remembering how your laugh sounded that day. His mind was constantly filled with whatever detail of you he could remember. 

  It was strange in a sense. Who thought of a crew mate this way? He definitely never thought of anyone in this way before now, let alone a crew member. Admittedly, he had never really been this close or fond of another person. He had never desired someone so much in his life. He had some flings, but they were never anything serious. He had some friends he could count on, but his friendships never felt like this. He absolutely adored the kid, caring for him like his own son, but his affection for the child differed from his affection for you. Din had never loved another person like this in his entire life.

  Now, this last thought was where it had finally clicked in his mind on what was going on with him. The pieces had finally fallen into place, the picture clearer and clearer with every thought. How he had not realized sooner would baffle him for the rest of his life, as the answer was so evident. 

  He was in love with you. Not just in love, but deeply in love. 

 The signs were so obvious. His heart would skip a beat at every laugh that escaped you, and would clench at every smile that etched across your lips. A single touch from you would send his body ablaze and make a blush settle on his cheeks. He could listen to you speak for hours, never tiring of hearing your voice or the stories of your life. Everything about you was beautiful in his eyes, you had stolen his heart long before he had ever realized it.  

Yeah, he was definitely in love. There was no doubt in his mind about it.    

  The Mandalorian had shifted uncomfortably in his spot now. The combination of realizing his love for you and the fact he had been staring at you for quite a bit now making him feel awkward. He almost felt like a creep, but at the same time he couldn’t make himself look away. It wasn’t like he wasn’t exactly aware of how attractive you were to him, inside and out, he just hadn’t really had the chance to really take it all in. He never really got the chance to come to terms with his feelings for you. Heck, he didn’t even get the chance to realize he had feelings for you. 

“Are you sunbathing?” He had finally questioned, mentally slapping himself, because anyone who had eyes could see that you in fact were doing just that. 

“Oh!” You had jumped at hearing his voice, surprised to see him back earlier than expected, your eyes opening to land on his form with a warm smile spreading across your lips, “Welcome back Mando.”

 His only reply was a grunt, as he watched as you rolled onto your back, stretching out your body  like a cat who had just awoken from a nap. He felt his cheeks burn at hearing the little sound you let out as you did. He watched as you sat up to lean back on your forearms, your hair cascading down your back in waves. There was a sparkle in your eyes, as you looked up at him fondly, your smile so sweet it could kill a man. It was as if the universe itself had craved you to perfection. 

  He was again brought out from his thoughts from hearing you speak, “What else would I be doing on this fine day?” 

“Anything else.” His reply had come out dryly, feeling like he would die from the heat he felt. His heart and mind both working over time to handle the new found knowledge of his feelings. 

“Ah but-” The words had begun to leave your mouth, but before you could finish your retort, darkness had suddenly consumed your vision. A large heavy fabric had covered your form and you moved your arms underneath, trying to find your escape. Pulling back the fabric from your head, you looked down at it before looking back up at your companion. For whatever reason, the Mandalorian had decided to throw his cape over top of you while you were basking in the afternoon sunlight. 

  He seemed to stiffen when your eyes made contact with his visor as you held the cape up at him with an eyebrow raised, “Mando?” 

“Where’s the kid?” His response came quickly, almost too quickly as he turned to look at any direction that wasn’t you. His mind swarmed with thoughts of his undeniable love for you. It was out of reflex to toss his cape over top of you, staring at you only worsened his already erratic heart. 

  A bit surprised with his behaviour, you had stood quickly, his cape still clutched in your hands. Concern had etched across your face as you questioned him worriedly, “He’s sleeping, but Mando why did you-”

“Get ready. We’re leaving in five minutes.” He said, cutting you off once more as he scurried past you, obviously in a hurry. 

 You had made an attempt to catch him before he made his way inside, but as always he was too quick for you to catch up to. “What- Mando wait a second!” 

 Before you could finish your questioning of him, the man had already entered into the Razor Crest. During his hurried escape, he had first made sure to give a quick check on the child, who slept soundly, not aware of his adoptive father's return. The next thing he did was to hide himself away in the cockpit, with his heart beating a thousand seconds per a minute, and his mind in disarray. His flush had started to subside a bit, but his mind was still a chaotic mess. 

  He could now hear you moving down below in the hull, the sounds bringing him back to seeing you outside sprawled out in a bikini. Remembering how beautiful you were and thinking about how strongly his love was burning for you. He had tried to distract himself by preparing for takeoff, but nothing could relax his rapidly beating heart. 

Din Djarin was in love and he honestly had no idea how to handle it. 

--

Tags

@ah-callie​ @readsalot73​ @starrywatermelon​ @karnita-mexicana​

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #mando #mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fic #request #din dijarin #din djarin x reader #din #din x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #reader #fluffy #fluff #pining #lots of feels #because yay #din is in love #uwu #Fic: Mesh'la #this is the one where I decided it to describe the desert to shit #because #sand #and din hates it #lololol #fem!reader #female reader

[dinandgone]

The Turncoat.

Part Six of the ‘Blood and Beskar’ series.

The Mandalorian x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6.78k

Warnings: Language, brief mention of adult themes, so 18+ just in case, if you are a child please turn around and go back from whence you came thank you :). Violence, Canon with a little bit extra sprinkled in. Very dialogue heavy

A/n ~ Hi, as promised here’s chapter 6. I feel like this chapter isn’t the best because of how dialogue heavy it is :/ But I don’t know what else to do with it so here it is I hope you like it. Feedback is always welcome :) Enjoy xxx

Update (25/07/21): I have indeed decided to continue writing this fic. So there will be more to come very soon :)

--------------------------------------------------

Mando had managed to gracefully land the crest in the hangar at Mos Eisley. The puff and spatter of its engines rattling as it powers down. You hoped it wasn't obvious to whoever had to fix it that you'd been in a shootout less than an hour ago. Things like that lead to questions and questions lead to mistakes.

Mando turns and stands from the pilot's chair.

"If anyone asks about this," He gestures to the ship "Make something up, the less people know the better,"

You nod, moving out of the cockpit doorway to allow him to pass, turning to the child who's babbling happily in his container, you pick him up and place him on your hip, cradling his head in the crook of your arm.

"Maker, how you keep smiling all the time buddy I don't know," you sigh making your way from the cockpit down to the hull.

Dropping down the ladder to the hull, you look for the familiar shine of beskar. Your search is interrupted by a single blaster shot and shouting. You quickly place the child in Mando's cot and sealing the lock on the door, quietly moving closer to the ramp.

"Hey...Hey!" a sharp voice sounds from the back of the hangar, your hand hovers over your holstered blaster as you move towards the Mandalorian at the end of the ramp.

A small woman with tightly curled almost frizzy hair stalks into view towards you and Mando.

"You damage my droid, you pay for it," she states pointing her finger at the Mandalorian's chest.

"Just keep them away from my ship," Mando responds roughly.

Ah droids, another thing you could add to the ever-growing list of things the Mandalorian didn't like, right next to conversation and you. The conversation between the woman and Mando when back and forth, haggling on how much the hangar and repairs would cost.

"Would you look at that," she shouts assessing the damage "You've got a lot of carbon scoring up top, and a fuel leak, if I didn't know any better I would think you were in a shootout!"

You tense turning to look at Mando who just simply shakes his head. You expect the stranger to inquire further but she doesn't, she continues assessing the damage and starts walking back to you and Mando, wiping her hands on a rag.

"Your ship is a mess, and since I ain't using droids then it's going to cost you extra," she smiles, her gaze drifting between you and the Mandalorian.

Mando shifts, grasping the small pouch of credits from his belt and holding it out.

"I have five hundred imperial credits," he states plainly tossing the pouch to the woman, clearly he wasn't in the mood to haggle.

"That's it?" She scoffs "That'll just about cover the hangar,"

You roll your eyes, typical you thought to yourself. You knew the price was steep but the crest needed its repairs and you'd be damned if you had to spend more time than you had to on Tatooine.

"I'll get you your money," Mando assures the woman turning to walk away from the ship. You follow him hearing the woman mumble a faint "Yeah I've heard that one before,"

Before you can make it out of the hangar Mando stops causing you to walk straight into what you could only describe as a beskar clad wall.

"Ouch... What are y-" you begin to ask.

"You need to stay with the kid," Mando orders, crowding the exit.

"The kid will be fine, I made sure to lock the bunk," You respond quickly, rolling your eyes at his bossy tone. He raises his shoulders, breathing in to answer you.

"And before you say anything, I need clothes and essentials which I recall is your fault because you wouldn't let me go back for my bag on Felucia," you quip standing your ground, prodding your finger into his beskar clad chest. 

Mando considered your argument, then looked into your eyes. They flickered with defiance and determination. Saying no to you was becoming increasingly difficult, he couldn’t quite place why. Nodding he moved aside, allowing you to walk past him and out of the hangar.

Tatooine held first place for your most hated planet on the outer rim. The first thing that hits you is the heat, the stagnant sweltering kind that dried your throat. The second thing you notice is the sand the tiny grains of misery that always managed to filter their way into your clothes, making sure to provide infuriating irritation in their wake. The third thing you notice is the people, Tatooine was infamous for its abundance of criminals and unsavoury types, many of which had bounties on their heads. Its the third prospect of this planet that creates an uneasiness in your stomach.

As you’re walking Mando notices you’re uncharacteristically quiet. He would have thought you’d be complaining to your heart’s content or finding some way to get under his skin, but you remain silent, shuffling along quietly behind him, your discomfort emitting off you in waves. 

"You've been here before?" he asks. The sudden start in conversation takes you off guard. 

"Of course, bounty hunter remember," you chuckle pointing at yourself.

"You don't like it here?" he asks a genuine interest in his voice.

"It's a skugpot full of criminals and it's got sand, I don't like sand. Correction. I hate sand," you ramble "You find it in places you didn't even know you could for days,"

Your response earns a low chuckle, if you weren’t listening you would have missed it. 

"You know I'm starting to think you find me funny," you smile nudging into him playfully. He doesn’t respond, just continues walking towards the marketplace in the centre of the town. You smirk to yourself, he didn’t need to respond for you to get your answer. He could deny it all he wanted but the big bad Mandalorian found you his ex bounty and resident babysitter, funny. 

The marketplace is bustling, vendors from every stall calling out to potential patrons urging them to invest in the goods they had to offer. You’d never been scared of this place as your time as a bounty hunter, the place was known for its dubious characters often willing to sell out anyone to the highest bidder, that’s what made your job just that little bit easier when it came to hunting bounties. However, the atmosphere was different, now you were the bounty and it felt like someone always had their eyes on you. 

Staying close to Mando you push through the crowds towards the stalls you needed, you glanced over at the clothes the stalls had to offer each item highly overpriced but you didn’t expect anything more from this planet. Fully engrossed in the prattling vendor in front of you, you don’t hear the Mandalorian mumble something to you and you don’t see him walking away in the opposite direction.

After a little deliberation, you settle for some simple shirts, a tunic for the cold weather and a pair of combat trousers. Your mind wanders to the shirt you were wearing, his shirt, the smell of him had worn off over time but as ridiculous as it sounded it still made you feel safe. Would he want it back now you had shirts of your own? This was pathetic, you were a badass bounty hunter, and you’d survived this long by yourself, you didn’t need to ruin that now by gaining an attachment to someone who tolerated you out of convenience and definitely would not feel the same way. Did you? 

You selected some soap and shampoo, notes of citrus and sandalwood drifting into your nose. It was similar to the ones that the Mandalorian used because it was easier to share right? You paid the vendor, almost grimacing at the amount you had to shell out, you sigh, everyone had to earn a living somehow. Realising you hadn’t asked Mando if he needed anything you turned, opening your mouth to speak. But he wasn’t there. When had he left? 

Your senses heightened, low-level panic searing through your chest. He was just right there, and now he was gone, he hadn’t said anything, had he? Your attention had been on what the vendor had been saying. You took a deep breath trying to remain calm. Now was not the time to panic especially given the place you were, people here prayed on vulnerability. You silently cursed that walking pile of beskar for dragging you to a place you despised and then leaving you. Bastard. 

You slung your newly purchased pack over your back and stalked around the stalls hoping to see the familiar glint of beskar. How in makers name could you lose him, he stuck out like a sore thumb. The bazaar was still bustling with people shouting and laughing, the faint sounds of music permeating through the air. It felt like you were going in circles the stalls all seeming familiar and the buildings the same tan exterior. You started to walk back to the hangar, trying to remember your steps, taking a left or was it right? You continued walking the alleyway only littered with a few stalls the proprietors much less boisterous than the ones before. Yep you’ve definitely taken a wrong turn. You think to yourself, you pivot on your heels and begin walking back the way you came stopping when you hear an unknown voice speak behind you. 

“Well, well, well, you seem to be a little lost princess,”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m going to find something, stay here,” Mando mumbles behind you, turning to walk towards the junker’s yard adjacent to the market stalls.

The shop was quiet, dust settling in a thin film over everything and ship parts piled high.

“Can I help you?” a voice asks, presumably the shop’s owner.

“I need of long-distance communication devices,” Mando explained.

“Ah follow me,” the owner states, turning and shuffling towards a crate in the corner of the yard. Thinking back to you Mando turns to look back at the market. Thankfully you seemed to have listened to his directions, still nodding at the vendor talking to you. He notices you choose some shirts from the stall, somewhere in the deepest part of his brain he had hoped you’d keep his shirt, even though you weren’t his it roused something within him to see you wearing it. Snapping out of his train of thought to the sound of the junker’s ramblings Mando walks to where the junker is stood with a pair of comms, still making sure you were in his line of sight.

“How much?” he asks shortly, he wasn’t in a negotiating mood.

“Two Hundred,” the junker states, clearly like everyone else on this planet extortion seemed to be his only form of income too.

“Two Hundred? That’s steep, I could find a pair brand new for a hundred on the Mid rim,” Mando grunts bluntly.

“Hate to break it to you buddy but you’re on the outer rim, things are a bit more pricey out here,” the junker smirks, stretching out his arm to shake on the purchase.

“One fifty?” Mando pushes, anxious to get back to the market. To you. 

“I...” the proprietor goes to argue “Ugh fine, one fifty,” he shakes Mando’s hand and exchanging the comms for the pouch of credits. 

Without another word, Mando walks towards the entrance of the yard looking at the stall you were stood at. Except you weren’t there, the vendor now harassing someone else. 

“Osik...” Mando huffs stepping out into the bustling marketplace. 

He’d asked you to do one thing and you weren’t capable of doing that. Typical. He thought to himself, you were too rebellious for your own good. He cursed to himself as he looks around the waves of people, you could easily blend into the crowds, unlike him, you didn’t stand out. For the first time the Mandalorian doubts you, he contemplates that idea you’d taken the initiative to run, to get out of here and escape capture. From the times he’d raced you to capture a bounty or encountered you briefly on Nevarro he gathered you were like him, alone, independent. He can’t ignore the sinking feeling in his chest that you’d so willingly leave. He pushes his doubt to the side, you wouldn’t leave without saying something. You always had something to say, a quip or smartass comment. Pushing through the crowds he searches for you, mentally grumbling about how you couldn’t just follow simple instruction and stay put. 

After the fourth circuit of the marketplace, Mando starts to worry, though he knew you could look after yourself, there was still a danger especially being on Tatooine, it wouldn’t be surprising if someone from the guild was here. Mando begins to make his way back to the hangar, maybe you’d gone back to the kid, or stopped by in the nearest cantina. Taking a left to the quieter part of the market place his helmet picks up on a loud conversation nearby. A male voice and another, that sounded unmistakably like you. The conversation becomes more heated as Mando moves towards the source, then a flurry of blaster shots sound through making his heart drop and his feet break out into a sprint. 

As he turns around the corner he’s met with a surprising sight, a large man pressed up against the wall of the building, arm pinned behind his back and howling in pain as he tried to move, by none other than you. Relief flooded through Mando, relief that was quickly replaced by that deep feeling he had felt the first time you had worn his shirt. He couldn’t ignore the fact his cock twitched in his pants at the sight of you fiercely subduing your opponent. He’s brought out of his trance by the familiar ring of your voice. Clearing his throat he turns his attention to you. 

“Ah, just when I thought you’d left me,” you shout, pressing your opponents arm up his back earning another groan of discomfort. 

“You’ve got to help me man, I was only having a little fun I meant no harm,” the man muffles against the wall. 

“Let him go,” Mando reasons turning his attention to you. You look at him a scowl on your face, then finally releasing your grip from the man’s arm. 

“Yeah that’s it do as he says, bitch,” the man spits pushing off the wall. 

Without thinking about it you propel your fist forward, connecting with his nose, you hear a crack and you’re not sure if it’s your hand or his nose. But he grunts in pain, clutching his nose as blood begins to trickle down his face. Before you can take another swing the Mandalorian moves past you, fast enough his movement could almost be described as a streak of beskar. He clutches the man by the collar and propels him back into the wall. 

“You ever say anything, come near her or touch her again, you’ll have me to deal with, Understand?” He growls, earning a fast nod from the wide-eyed man as he slips away clutching his nose. 

“I had it handled,” you huffed, wincing at your split knuckles. 

“Why do you always attract trouble?” Mando sighs, pacing towards you grasping at your hand to assess the damage. The touch of the leather gloves on your hand makes your skin prickle, but you were too pent up from the anger that you’d felt at the man before you didn’t dwell on the feeling. 

“You’re the one that left me, I was looking for you!” You shout pulling your hand from his grip. 

“I told you where I was going,” Mando grunts moving away from you 

“No, I...” you stammer. Had he said something to you? 

“Weren’t listening as usual,” Mando stated bluntly. Making you pull a face. 

“Whatever, weren’t we supposed to be finding a job today?” You ask quickly changing the topic. Starting to walk back to the main marketplace. 

“The guild used to operate from a cantina not far from here, they might have something,” Mando grumbles before taking the lead, walking in the direction of the marketplace.

Now the conversation had died down, you were left to reminisce on what had just happened. Mando threatening someone shouldn’t have added fuel to the spark already ignited deep inside your stomach, but something about it made your heart stop and your breathing slow. You didn’t like feeling like a damsel in distress, you could’ve handled it yourself, but you’d be lying if you hadn’t enjoyed Mando threatening a man for you. The way he had done it radiated possessiveness and it made you shiver, you knew you were reading into the situation but a girl could dream right? 

The walk to the cantina took a lot less time than you had expected, you were less lost than you thought you were as the marketplace began to look more familiar. You followed Mando through the door into a building that you presumed was the cantina he’d been looking for. The cantina was quiet, only a couple of patrons, keeping their business to themselves or too fully engrossed in a quiet game of Sabacc, but as you and Mando walk through the doors eyes raise onto where you’re stood. You knew it was Mando they were looking at, if it was you in their situation you would’ve too, he was hard to ignore. Silently, Mando walks to the bar where a droid is cleaning glasses. 

“Hey droid, I’m a hunter, I’m looking for some work,” Mando says quietly leaning on the bar. 

“Unfortunately the bounty guild no longer operates from Tatooine,” 

“We’re not looking for guild work,” you chip in, earning a steeled glance from the Mandalorian, you shrug your shoulders in response. 

“I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculations,” The droid stares blankly, continuing to clean the bar. You sigh, looking to Mando for direction, this was your only shot at getting the credits to pay for the ship. This place was a skughole, the perfect place for dodgy jobs and suddenly there wasn’t any. 

“Think again, Tin Can,” a smooth voice calls from a booth to your left. You turn with Mando, observing the owner of the voice. A man sits with his legs propped against the table, he looked about your age, maybe younger. To put it simply he looked like trouble. 

“If you’re looking for work, have a seat, my friends,” he smiles, keeping eye contact with you. You almost cringe in disgust, but you look to Mando for his next move. 

“Name’s Toro, Toro Calican,” the stranger speaks again as Mando moves towards the booth. 

“Mando I don’t know about this,” you argue, but Mando was already taking a seat at the booth. 

“Relax, sweetheart, sit,” Calican states smoothly, gesturing to the seat next to him. Reluctantly you move towards the table opting for the seat next to Mando, you felt the stranger’s eyes running over your figure as you sit seemingly a complete disregard for your company. Before you can protest his use of nicknames the stranger places a bounty puck onto the table. 

“Picked up this bounty puck before I left the Mid Rim, Fennec Shand, an assassin,” Calican explains. You almost laugh at the guy, was he serious? 

“I know the name,” Mando states nonchalantly 

“I followed this tracking fob here, the positional data suggests she’s somewhere out beyond the Dune Sea, should be an easy job” 

“Well good luck with that,” Mando nods at you, a queue for you to stand. 

“Wait, wait, wait, hey. I thought you needed work?” Calican turns as you both begin walking out of the cantina. Mando stops. 

“How long with the guild?” he asks walking back to the table. 

“Long enough,” Calican retorts 

“Listen, clearly you’re new to this profession,” You scoff turning to look at the stranger, “Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary, the best of the best,” 

“She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates including the Hutts, If you go after her you won’t make it past sunrise,” Mando interjects. You subconsciously shiver at his sentence, the uneasiness of past memories pooling in your stomach. If the Mandalorian noticed, he didn’t say anything. Mando turns again heading for the door, you follow suit. 

“Wait! This is my first job, you can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the guild, I can’t do it alone” Calican pleads. Mando stops and turns again, the helmet tilting, the sign that he’s thinking. 

“Wait, you aren’t seriously thinking about this! Mando it’s a suicide run!” you hiss. 

“Meet me at hangar three-five in an hour, bring three speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob,” Mando orders, you shake your head in disbelief. So now was the time you got included. The time that almost certainly had only one outcome...death. Before you can say anything, Calican brings out the tracking fob and smashes it against the wall. 

“Don’t worry I got it all memorised,” Calican smiles tapping the side of his head. 

“Half an hour,” Mando orders before turning out of the cantina door. You follow hot on his trail. 

“Are you crazy? First, the guy wants to take down Fennec Shand and now he smashes the fucking tracking fob!” you snap, hastily walking alongside him. 

“We need the credits,” Mando states bluntly like the mission was no big deal.

“Yeah we need the credits Mando, but I’d also like to live to see the next cycle,” you argue 

You don’t have time to argue before the Mandalorian’s figure crowds your space, stopping you in your tracks. You try to walk around him but he places a firm grip on your shoulders. 

“What are...” you begin 

“You wanted to be included, I’m including you, I chose to do this, we need the credits, anything else you’ve got to say, save it,” he asserts, letting go of your shoulders turning to the hangar’s entrance. 

You stand there mouth agape, his dominance leaves your brain blank, the argument simply melting away, and embarrassingly a wetness forming in between your thighs. Your heart was thundering against your chest, leaving your breathing short and staggered. Nothing could have prepared you for what just happened. Annoyance simmered in the back of your brain, how could he do that? From a simple touch or just a sentence, reduce you to an incoherent mess. You needed to pull yourself together, this was entirely unprofessional. 

Calming yourself, you make your way into the hangar. You’re met with the sound of Mando shouting something and the familiar voice of the woman from the Hangar. Stepping through the door you see the woman cradling the child. You walk over to the Mandalorian’s side.  

“Have you any idea how long it took me to get it to sleep?” the woman complains 

“Give him to me,” Mando demands pointing at the woman. 

“Not so fast,” she turns the child away from you both. “You can’t just leave a child alone like that, you know you had an awful lot to learn about raising a young one,” 

Mando turns to you, “I thought you said you locked the bunk,” he questions bluntly. 

“I did,” you scoff “It’s not my fault he escaped, I double checked it was locked,” You crossed your arms. 

The woman looks between you and the Mandalorian for a second before resuming her conversation.

“Anyway, I started the repair on the fuel leak, had a couple of setbacks I wanna talk to you about,” she begins “ You know I didn’t use any droids as requested, so it took me a lot longer than I expected,”  She turns her attention to you as Mando walks onto the crest. 

“But I figured you were good for the money seen as you have a couple of extra mouths to feed,” she adds. You roll your eyes, of course, it was going to cost extra, did you expect anything less. You barely had enough credits to pay for the hangar. You had no choice but to do this job. You turn to Mando who grabs his bag and walking off the ship. 

“Thank you,” he nods making his way to the door. 

You and the woman both raise your eyebrows. So he is capable of gratitude you thought. 

“So I guess I was right you got a job didn’t you,” she pushes following the Mandalorian out of the door. 

The woman continues to prattle on about money and droid expenses which you ignore, as your attention is now focussed on the two speeder bikes in front of you, clearly, Mando also noticed the discrepancy in the agreement. 

“Hey, Mando, what d’ya think, not too shabby huh?” Calican smiles proudly 

“I said three speeder bikes, there’s only two here,” Mando states pointedly, placing his pack on the speeder bike on the left. 

Toro turns his attention to you, “ Well it looks like you and me get to share princess,” he replies, perching himself on the speeder bike smugly. 

Your anger surges you forward, taking your knife from your thigh and holding it smoothly to his throat, causing Calican to stumble back slightly. 

“Call me princess again and I’ll make sure you get real acquainted with the end of my knife, understand?” you growl, pointing your blade to his throat.  

Mando chuckles at your remark, smirking as he swings his leg over to sit on the speeder. After Calican seems to understand your point, you go to join Mando on his speeder, lacing your hands around his torso. You could feel him tense at your touch, but then relax a couple seconds after. Starting the speeder bike and following Calican across the dunes.

Mando tries not to focus on your arms around his waist or your warmth against his back. The closeness of you was enough to stoke the embers slowly flickering in his stomach, leading him to think how pretty you would look holding onto him, with him on top of you. No. He shakes his head deciding to focus on the land ahead, and keeping in front of Calican’s speeder. 

You roll your eyes at the fact two grown men were racing speeders right now, engrossed in their own little ego competition. After a while Mando signals for the speeders to stop. 

“What’s going on?” Calican asks looking at Mando.

“Look. Up ahead,” Mando nods to a spot in the dunes where a group of figures moving.

Calican dismounts his speeder and walks towards the edge of the dune. Reluctantly, you let go of the Mandalorian, getting off the speeder and walking towards where Calican is stood with binoculars in his hands. 

“Tusken Raiders,” he points out “I heard the locals talking about this filth,” You frown at his reference to the figures.

“Tuskens think they’re the locals, everyone else is just trespassing,” you inform, Calican scoffs in response. You feel your anger rising again at the ignorant stranger. 

“Well, whatever they call themselves, they best keep their distance,” 

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell them yourself?” Mando asks turning his helmet to a pair of raiders to your left. Calican steps back, reaching for his blaster in its holster.  

“Relax,” he eases, placing himself in between you and the raiders. Looking at the raiders he begins to sign. 

“What’s he doing?” Calican asks looking back and forth from the raiders to Mando. 

“Negotiating,” you quip, paying attention to the Mandalorian’s hand movements. Your Tusken was rusty but you could vaguely make out what Mando and the raiders were saying. 

“What’s going on?” Calican interjects again. 

“We need passage across their land,” Mando explains “Let me see the binocs,” he asks, Calican questions earning a glare from your and a tilted helmet from Mando, reluctantly he passes them to Mando. You have to stifle a laugh when Mando tosses them to the raiders and Calican protests. 

“Those were brand new!” Calican whines.

“Yeah, they were,” you chuckle walking back to the speeder with Mando before he starts up the speeder again. 

After a while you sense the speeder slowing, you look forward. A large shadow moved across the plains ahead. This was not good. Following Mando, you scramble off the speeder and onto the dune below. 

“Get down,” you and Mando order simultaneously, crawling to the ledge of the dune.

“Alright, tell me what you see,” Mando prompts. Before you can answer Calican cuts in. 

“Dewback looks like the rider’s still attached,” 

“Mando, I don’t like this,” you say, the feeling of uneasiness increasing in the pit of your stomach. 

“Is that her? Is that the target,” Calican asks 

“I don’t know, I’ll go. You cover me, stay down,” He orders looking at you, pulling his blaster out of its holster. 

“Mando..” You start “Be careful,” you look at him, earning a nod in response before he disappears over the ledge. You pull your blaster out from its holster and watch the dunes for any other signs of movement. The air was tense, something wasn’t right, there was no way Fennec Shand was that rider, she was too skilled to be caught off guard so easily. Your concentration is broken by the sound of Calican shouting to Mando. 

“Is it her? Is she dead?” he asks lifting his head higher over the ridge. What part of stay down did this idiot not understand. 

“No, it’s another bounty hunter,” Mando replies as he inspects the corpse. The bad feeling in your gut increased. This was bad. You notice Mando look up then turn. He manages to shout get down before a flash of red hits him right in the back. 

“Mando!” You shout pushing off your elbows in an attempt to get up, but Calican pulls you down just as another shot rings out, hitting Mando in the beskar as he tumbles over the edge of the dune. He hits the ground with a grunt. 

“What happened?” Calican asks, peering over the edge. 

“Sniper bolt.” Mando points out.

“Only an MK modified rifle could make that shot,” you looked at him in shock “Are you okay?” you ask trying not to sound too worried. 

“Yeah. Hit me in the beskar,” Mando breathes heavily “and at that range, beskar held up,” 

“Wait, I don’t wear any beskar,” Calican points out, looking at Mando with wide eyes. 

“Nope,”

You chuckle at Mando’s reply. 

“You see where that shot came from?” he asks

“Yeah, it came from somewhere on that ridge,” Calican guess.

“Approximately three klicks north-west,” you huff pointing to the exact ridge, your answer earning a glance from both men. You smirk as Mando explain his plan. 

“I’m gonna rest, you take the first watch, stay low,” Mando orders walking back to the speeders. 

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” Toro winks, you scoff before turning around and walking back to the bikes. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The suns set pretty quickly on Tatooine, but it feels like forever with Toro’s incessant nattering, you even contemplated talking to Mando, his shortened responses would be infinitely better than Toro’s failed flirtation techniques. But he seemed to be asleep, propped up against the speeder bike silently. 

“Alright, suns are down, time to ride Mando,” Toro projects walking over to where you’re sat. 

“Come on, wake up,” he pushes before stopping a few feet in front of Mando. You would have interjected and told him to shut up, but a little part of you wanted to see how this went. 

“Look at you, asleep on the job, old man,” Calican taunts “After this is done sweetheart feel free to trade-in for a newer model,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and scoff

“I’m afraid you’d be out of luck there, see I prefer men, not little boys trying to act all rough and tough,” you sneer. Toro’s eyes widen for a second before he turns back to Mando pulling out his blaster, pretending to quick draw. You roll your eyes, his actions just proving your point. 

Mando smiles underneath his helmet at your comment, the feeling of pride blooming through his chest. He shouldn’t feel this possessiveness over you, you weren’t his. But the feeling that stirred inside him was involuntary. He needed to ignore it, he needed to keep your relationship professional, but as the time spent with you increased he found it harder to suppress that feeling.

“You done?” Mando asks bluntly before standing, clearly, this throws Calican off guard as he re-holsters his weapons and rubs the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, yeah you know I was just waking you up,” he stammers. 

“Get on your bike, ride across to those rocks as fast as you can, Y/N go with him,” 

“What?” you start “I am not-” 

“For once just do as I ask,” Mando lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed Mando but we’re not a walking talking pile of beskar like you, she’ll snipe us right off the bikes!” you hiss, crossing your arms in defiance. In return you get the cold star of the dark visor, you huff and climb onto the speeder. 

Mando reaches into his pack and tosses two objects at you and Calican. 

“It’s a flash charge, we alternate shots, it’ll blind any scope temporarily, combine that with our speed and we’ve got a chance ” he explains climbing onto his speeder. Toro opens his mouth to question the plan but before he can Mando interjects. 

“Hey, you wanted this. Get ready,” Before you can say anything Mando speeds off towards the ridge. You mentally curse at how bad a plan this was, you’d be lucky if you made it out. 

What happens next is all a blur, the rush of the speeders and the bright light of the alternating flash charges was blinding. So far, the plan seemed to be going well, both speeders managing to avoid the sniper shots from the ridge. Almost as if you couldn’t have spoken any sooner the speeder dips just as Toro goes to ignite the flash charge, causing the light to fall in the wrong direction. Fuck. You watch as a flash of red pulses straight into Mando’s speeder. 

“No!” you shout, dread fills your body, turning back you see him sprawled out on the desert floor, thankfully you see him sit up to let off another flare. As Toro slows the speeder you launch yourself off the bike before it could stop moving, you stumble towards the Mandalorian before another sniper shot hits him square in the chest sending him flying. 

“Mando!” You cry out running to where he was lying. He grunts and sits up brushing off the sand that had gathered on his flight suit. 

“I’m fine, are you okay?” he asks the visor looking at you intently. 

“What do you...” you start  “I’m fine, you just got shot are you okay?” Before he can answer your question, you hear a blaster shot from the cliffs. Turning to look at each other, you both run. By the time you’d got to the top of the ridge, you were surprised to see that Calican was still alive, yes he was being choked to death by an assassin, but he’d still made it that far. 

“Nice distraction,” Mando commends, pointing his blaster at Shand, who releases her grip. 

“Yeah, ow, good work partners,” Calican groans crawling away to sit. 

“Cuff yourself,” Mando orders, throwing the cuffs on the ground. 

“Why don’t you go find your blaster,” Mando suggests to Calican, he nods walking away. 

“A Mandalorian, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of your kind,” Shand states smoothly as she stands. 

“Ever been to Nevarro?” She asks smiling smugly “ I hear things didn’t go so well there but it looks like you got off easily,” 

“You don’t have to worry bout getting to Nevarro or anywhere else, once we turn you in,” Toro re-enters the conversation dusting off his blaster. “ You know, I really should thank you, you’re my ticket into the guild,” Toro taunts. 

“You know, I thought Mandalorian’s were warriors of honour, so why are you hanging around with a wanted ex- bounty hunter?” Fennec asks slyly turning to you, and then Mando. 

“Oh, she hasn’t told you?” Shand smirks 

“Tell me what?” Mando asks, you close your eyes, hoping that she doesn’t push this further, but your prayers are squashed when she opens her mouth. 

“Why she has a twenty thousand credit bounty on her head...” Fennec sneers, smiling when she’s met with silence. 

“Let’s just say my previous employers aren’t best pleased with you are they?” Shand turns to you. You can feel the Mandalorian’s cold stare on the side of your head. You wait, the anticipation thick in the air.

“You pissed off the Hutts, one of the biggest crime syndicates in the galaxy!” Mando hisses

“Yeah, but Jabba is dead, it’s not that big of a deal,” you shrug trying to calm the situation. 

“Twenty thousand credits, is a big deal, y/n, what did you do?” Mando insists 

“It doesn’t matter,” you grit. 

“What. Did. You. Do?” he pushes, his persistence hits a nerve. 

“You know if you’d actually have bothered to ask me why I had such a high bounty on my head then maybe I would’ve told you my side of the story, but it’s all business with you isn’t it tin can,” You growl pointing your finger at him. 

“I didn’t know how high it was, you know how it is, don’t ask questions,” Mando begins but you cut him off, rage piercing through your words. 

“Oh no, you don’t get to act all high and mighty now bucket head, I did the exact same thing as you did with the kid, I didn’t follow through on a job that I knew was wrong!” you shout all your past frustrations lacing into your words. 

You walk ahead to the bottom of the ridge where Toro is already waiting. You ignore him and walk straight to the speeders. 

“Uh oh, looks like one of us is going to have to walk,” Shand says in a sing-song tone. Before Mando shoves her to the ground. 

“Or we could drag you,” you hear Mando suggest lowly. Usually, you would have laughed at his remark, but all you felt was anger. 

You watch as Mando and Calican walk away talking about a plan. Before Mando begins to walk away. 

“Watch her keep her away from the bikes, she’s no good to us dead,” he states plainly before ignoring you and walking off into the desert. Oh, real mature you thought rolling your eyes. So now you had no idea what was going on. 

“Where’s he going?” you ask 

“To get the Dewback we saw earlier,” Toro informs you keeping his eye on Shand.  You nod before propping yourself up on one of the bikes. 

“You take first watch,” you instruct as you lean against the speeder, dismantling your blaster to reassemble in the hope it would help pass the time. Slowly, you begin to drift off the soft sound of the breeze lulling you to sleep. 

The sound of conversation rouses you from your sleep. 

“Bringing you in will make me a fully-fledged member of the guild,” Toro explains 

“You already have something that the Guild values far more than me, you just don’t see it, ” Shand says smoothly. Toro looks at her in confusion. “The Mandalorian and the girl,” she explains “A Mandalorian shot up the guild on Nevarro, took a high-value target and went rogue, the girl is responsible for the death of a high ranking member of a crime syndicate, think what it would do for your reputation, your name will be legendary ” Shand negotiates. 

You feel could almost hear the cogs turning in Calican’s head as he mulled the offer over. 

“Take some advice kid, you wanna be a bounty hunter, make the best deal for yourself and survive,” As Shand raises her hands to be uncuffed you stand ready to protest. But before you can say anything a flash of red hits her straight and her body falls to the floor. You stand there eyes wide, looking over at Calican who’s now pointing his blaster at you. You go to reach for your blaster in its holster but you curse yourself as you remember you’d taken it out to reassemble it, you look down to see it lay on the ground next to the speeder. You raise your hands in an attempt to mediate the situation.

“Wait...” you plead. But as quickly as the words leave your mouth, the world around you goes dark. 

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