#I wish blaster had a full reference

[cheesarbles]

✨TFA DRAWINGS!✨

And a wip :)

I’m making a lot of these

..

the cube >:)

[titanicfreija]

Damn, got these two backwards.

Chillin'

"So we're just gonna let it be like this?" Three asked.

Freija hardly moved when she glanced up from cleaning her helmet. "Yeah, funny thing, when you're trying to make friends of former enemies, you have to do a lot of nothing. They're gonna have a long ass period of being real sure it's a trick. These two probably not so much, they don't do tricks, but they're still waiting for us to take advantage of a lowered guard."

Three studied Freija, fixing her gaze directly at the Titan until she noticed and finally batted the air in her direction. "You know I'm right."

"The fuck would you know?"

"Shit happens," Freija muttered darkly, lowering her head between her shoulders.

"Yeah?" mocked Three. "Whippersnapper got some sense kicked in?"

"What does that word even mean?"

"No idea. Someone called me that when I was still one foot up and I held onto it. They said I could start using it when I hit my first century." Freija smirked at her and Three didn't lower her stare. "I told you. Now, what happened."

The Titan swatted at her again and aggressively turned her attention to her helmet. "Fuck off, I'm not about to give you ammo. You make enough fun."

Three and Freija heard the Hive chuckle in their rattling voices. They looked back and Fynch and Jynx both wheeled in sync, spinning to face away.

"What'd you say?" demanded Freija.

Sunny translated and Jynx had to turn and translate, "Why don't you just kill each other?"

"Because it doesn't help!" cried Freija and Three together.

Yol looked to Ken and gestured at the humans with a palm. Ken looked back and grunted. Fynch said, "Why?"

"Why doesn't it help? Because she doesn't stop," snipped Three. "When a Titan loses a fight, they just try again."

"Hunters think going along with the wrong answer is a good idea as long as the wrong idea came from the Hunter who won a fight," Freija replied. "And they don't listen to us. At all."

"Can't let might make right when you assholes know only wars of attrition," Three confirmed. "Can't beat a Titan. Can only slow 'em down. Kill 'em and get your shit done while they rez."

The Ghosts translated, after which Yol and Ken both turned to stare at the humans, glowing eyes blinking into glowing eyes. They turned to each other and argued for a full three minutes, occasionally checking a Ghost for reference. Freija and Three watched in fascination.

Finally, Yol got to her feet and sidled to sit behind her fellow.

Freija looked at Fynch and lifted a brow. "They just split on the Hunter/Titan line, didn't they," she asked.

"Uh, sorta? He said he was on your side, that the fight isn't over until it's over, but Yol is siding with Three, and says it's over when it's over."

Freija blinked at the Ghost and tilted her head. "Did... Are those the only words you can use? I get it, but was that the only way to put it?"

"There's all kinds of words to refer to endings and death, and their versions here would roughly equate to the permanent and impermanent ends of contests," Jynx explained. "Throne Worlds introduced the idea of an impermanent end, and the idea twisted from there."

Freija grunted and moved to sit nearer to Ken with a shoulder turned to him. He glanced and ignored after that.

"I wish I could do that with my barricade," she said to the Knight. "Make it always shoot-through."

Ken blinked at her as Sunny translated.

"What does yours do?" he asked.

"It's bigger and more solid," she explained. She stood up to cast one, taller than herself, and much less transparent. He studied the Light wall with twitching purple eyes, and he got to his feet to touch at it.

Non-hostile but still Lucent, it left light brown scorch marks on the chitin, and he tried to punch it only to have the blow blocked off. Stepping back, he fired a blaster shot into it, and he spun to look at Freija and point.

"What's wrong with it?" Fynch asked.

"It's just different. We have a modified armor piece that makes it more like his, I used to run it in the crucible before the rules changed. I was pissed the first time I saw it."

Sunny rattled for her and the Knight chortled. "Why?"

"That was mine!" she said. "It felt like you took it."

The Knight bared a vicious smile.

"Yeah, well, Shaxx won't let us use 'em right anyhow," she huffed, throwing her hands. She looked up to Fynch to catch his attention. "Don't tell him about crucible. We had to show Yol what it meant, I don't think Three'll put up with that shit again."

"I won't," agreed Three.

"Yol will probably explain, later," Jynx promised. "She made up a word, from the Throne World ending kind and the killing pits. She might be able to explain it."

"Don't talk over our head, guys," huffed Fynch for an irritated Ken before turning to soothe him. "It's rude."

[littlebittykittycommittee]

Gaster + acronyms

(This is something I feel that people have probably already discussed before, but I've never seen it and it made me really happy with something I'd been on the fence about before, so I wanted to write it out in case someone out there like me had the same hang-ups and might like to read this.)

So, for a long time I was like "man, I love the twist about what LV and EXP really stand for in-universe, but the acronyms are a little rough. I wish there was a more elegant alternative to use."

Because LV/LOVE = Level of Violence and EXP = Execution Points is a fun reveal that hits you really hard at first, right?

But as a real acronym, it's real rough! LV = Level of Violence looks fine, but Level Of ViolEnce ain't right, and then EXecution Points doesn't really work at all as an acronym and even worse, there's no good solution to it (like, be fair, how many words starting with "X" would even work there? good on ya for figuring something out, Toby).

But then I realized something.

The same issue with "improper" acronyms can be said of one W.D. Gaster.

So we know Gaster's first name is Wingdings. We can safely assume this because Entry No 17 is written in wingding font, making him one of the few characters who uses an alternate font; this is also true of Sans and Papyrus, who speak in their own font. They are skeletons named after the font they speak in. Gaster's notes are in wingdings and he is commonly assumed to be a skeleton, so following that trend he'd also be named after his own font, making his first name Wingdings. So then, is his full name Wingdings Gaster?

It's possible, but first let's propose an alternate theory: let's say Gaster named LV, EXP, etc and possibly outlined what it all means. I know "Gaster did it" is overused a lot, but in this case I think it actually works really well!

So, let's say Gaster's first name is Wingdings, which seems to fit his initials if you apply the same improper acronym reading to his name as with EXP and LV. WingDinGaster. This leaves the "aster" part of his name as a surname, which works because Aster is another type of font.

So reading his name normally, we would assume his name is Wingding Aster or as the followers might refer to him, Dr. W. Aster.

However, following the Undertale acronym "system", it could instead read as WingDinG aster or Dr. W.D. Gaster.

Much of Gaster's work that he did in life is unclear, all we know for sure is that he created the CORE and we don't even know when he did that (whether he is a long-lived monster who did it when Asriel and Chara were alive, or is a monster with a more normal lifespan whoonly sometime within the past decade or so prior to Undertale).

(Tangent #1: Some speculate he might've also drawn up the blueprints for the Determination Extraction Machine, started the determination experiments, and/or participated in the timeline research Sans mentions; I don't like thinking that he was behind so much of the research because it undermines how that was all Alphys' storyline, her breaking new ground with the discovery of determination leading to the creation of the Amalgamates and Flowey, and giving Gaster credit for that doesn't sit right with me since it puts almost EVERYTHING Alphys did as Royal Scientist (for better or worse) in Gaster's shadow. I'm inclined to think the determination experiments were all Alphys (all the notes other than Entry 17 seem to only be from Alphys, the different writing styles seem to be reflections of her outlooks and don't match what we can be pretty sure as Gaster's writing with the all-caps style), though he might've first drawn up the blueprints with intentions of using them for something else (perhaps prototypes to the Gaster Blasters, that Alphys repurposed as determination extraction machines, perhaps provided them by Sans) and him focusing on researching timelines might help explain why he was scattered across time and space; depending on how he was researching that, it could've believably led to something going wrong like that.)

Since so much of his other work as Royal Scientist is unknown, let's say that Gaster researched and went on name/label and write up systems for these units of measure: EXecution Points, Level Of ViolEnce. If you want to go with the fanon that HP actually stands for HoPe, he can be the one who named that, too.

(Tangent #2: Since hope actually makes up part of the monsters' soul, it would make sense that it is literally the lifeforce for monsters, and could be considered the monster equivalent of determination.)

In my opinion, it'd make sense for Gaster to have researched and invented these systems. Depending on when you think he was alive, he was likely either there before Chara joined the royal family (a time when monsters are implied to have been so fearful of humans still that they hid as far back from the barrier as possible, all cooped up in Home/the Ruins) or present when the fallen humans were ordered to be killed and their souls collected (when monsters expected to wage war against humans when the barrier was broken, and before that be ready to kill any humans who fell in). Consider that with how powerful humans are, that they can so easily wound and even kill monsters just by hitting them with enough negative emotion, and this is widely known enough to be put in children's textbooks. In other words, regardless of his time period, it would make sense for a Royal Scientist to have researched human aggression and how powerful killing makes them; know thy enemy, right?

Also, as I mentioned at the start, these aren't proper acronyms: LOVE for Level Of ViolEnce, EXP for EXecution Points. If we assume Gaster named them though, it would follow the same pattern we see with his own name. That might be a quirk of his personality (he seems like a weirdo, can't rule it out), or it could be because his primary font is so wildly different from most that it sort of functions as a separate language and thus "translations" might be a little funky. Wingdings being his natural way of speaking but being hard for most to understand, and him having to learn to speak in a second font, would explain why his notes for himself are written in wingdings, but why when he talks to us, the players, he speaks in a non-wingdings font, probably used to people not being able to understand him at first.

It would also tie in with Gaster being an entity so associated with breaking the fourth wall (found only in easter eggs, speaking directly to players, hijacking Toby's Twitter account), for him to be the one who researched and named the concepts of EXP and LV that turned our understanding of those things as players, on their heads. Hell, since even our earliest pegging of him (a contemporary of Chara and Asriel) would put him in the 2010's, maybe Gaster even named those units of measure as a riff on RPG tropes on purpose, maybe out of a very dry sense of humor or maybe because he's an even bigger nerd than any of us have possibly conceived. As a man of science, I can see him researching human technology that fell into the Underground, and like his successor would with anime, I can see him being an RPG geek.

The bottom line: In this case, I think if we say "Gaster did it!" wrt the funky acronyms, it actually fits shockingly well and gives us a little more about him to talk about.

[ohheyitsokay]

Omg I'm SO sorry!!! I'm the soulmates pain AU anon, I was completely aware you were the one with the milestone!! I saw the post through Molly's rb and I was almost completely sure I had opened your blog to send you the ask but alas, the Tumblr app can never give you any certainties. That long-ass message was completely dedicated to you, I still can't quite grasp how I managed to send it to scribbledghost 🙄🙄🙄 Sorry!!! Congrats again, I love you!!!!

for reference a Din Djarin x reader soulmate request where your soulmate feels your injuries and pain

hello, dear heart!

I wanted to say, before anything else, thank you. I've reread your words multiple times since you sent this, confirming they were to me, and they really mean the world to me. thank you so, so much! anyway, your idea is fantastic, I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope you like seeing what I did with your already wonderful thoughts 💕

ps it's well documented that I'm a big fan of sprawling thoughts, so please never apologize for sharing them!

warnings: mentions canon-typical injuries, a bunch of fluff. at least enough for a couple of throw pillows

>>

soulmate requests / follower celebration

<<

There's a short burn on his forearm when he wakes.

Din stares at it, wondering at the dull ache, trying to place the injury from yesterday's adventure when it hits him. Hot and golden warmth, flooding through his chest, thawing his flesh against the cold filtered air.

It's one of yours.

A burn, on his forearm.

And selfishly, indulgently, he pauses for a moment, mind slipping away from duty and expectations to dwell in the daydream of his soulmate.

First, his mind creates an image of a blurry mandalorian caretaker, gently moving around a kitchen in the covert. You stir a pot, tapping the spoon on the side before setting it down. Hearing distant calls, you turn too quickly and oh - a sliver of burn along your arm.

Din wants to help, wants to pull you away from the domestic .... danger, and he rushes forward. Your helmet turns to him and he almost sees it - before his mind can no longer produce the answers he aches for late at night.

The second image is of you, in armor as gleaming as his own, in a thick, unrecognizable forest. The hairs on his neck are at full attention, already subconsciously wanting to shout - but you don't need his help. You're breathtaking in all versions of his daydream - but watching you fight with practiced ease punches the air from his lungs. For a moment he feels self-conscious of his awkward maneuvers and slapdash fighting but then his mind pulls him back. You're protecting someone, or else you wouldn't have messed up - you never do, injuries from you are too rare - but you shove them behind you, shooting an enemy over your shoulder before your helmet snaps back. There are so many - you're surrounded - and a hot, sharp blaster bolt grazes your forearm before your fury is truly unleashed.

He runs his fingers over the burn, almost giddy at the possibilities.

Mandalorians are few and far between, but he's grateful he has a soulmate, and even more thankful you've kept yourself out of harm's way almost entirely, since you'd been connected.

As he dons his layers, the shine of his armor reflects bruises and scrapes littered across the expanse of his skin. His own, from his journey, and one beautiful little burn from his soulmate.

And then they're covered, and the armor is tied securely in place, and he leaves his daydreams in the room as the ship door slides unceremoniously shut.

-

You hiss at the burn, clutching your arm.

Great. Just what you needed - another injury to add to your impressive collection.

At least my soulmate gets a gift from me this time. You roll your eyes.

The vendor next to your stall is a sweet lady, already apologizing for her steaming pots and pans and offering you compensation.

The credits would be nice, but you could hardly justify taking anything, especially since it was your soulmate's fault your body was riddled with aches and pains in the first place.

Waving your hand, you accept her counter offer - a bowl of her perfect broth and noodles - before retreating. You sell cloth, from beautiful dyed lengths tucked away to sturdy, unstainable blacks, and it was days like today that you thanked your stars for that choice.

There's a thick pile in the middle that you perch on, sinking into the folds as your body cries at you, and you sigh over your soup in relief. The burden of waking to webbing bruises and sprawling scrapes and the more-than-occasional broken bone is eased by your stall - sitting and haggling until the sun goes down. That is, unless there's drama in the market, as it seems there is today.

In the distance you hear shouts, more than those of vendors selling meat on sticks to passing warriors and merchants - the taunts of drunkards.

Someone is coming, and you almost laugh when you see his form in the distance, because he's trying and failing to be inconspicuous. It's impossible, with his gleaming armor, but still he ducks into shadowy spots, forgetting - or maybe ignoring - their inhabitants.

"A Mandalorian has graced our market," your neighbor remarks dryly. They were respected, but it was well known that chaos followed them. You share a look, both wishing you were wealthy enough to conpletely pack up shop. If anything, a logical person would put away most of the stock and hunker down for a few hours. Weighing the odds was difficult: if you were lucky, the chaos wouldn't bother your business, and shoppers might be drawn out, hoping for entertainment and spending as they waited. If you weren't, a wayward burst of plasma or blaster fire would destroy your whole month's stock.

You looked at him again, the Mandalorian kneeling down the street. His form was... almost handsome, formidable but careful. He was light on his feet, seemingly with gentleness on his mind, and it drew you in like a moth to flame. You decided to stay, and hope for the best, your curiosity pulsing like your bruises.

And you were lucky, that day, because he ducked away not a moment later, taking the exciment with him.

Until, he came back the next day, this time on the prowl, stalking up and down the edge of Dicer's Row, one hand on his blaster and the other atop a bulky, wriggling bag. This time, you ventured to stand, folding and refolding your displays as you watched him through your lashes.

And then he made his move, and you sighed, feigning a yawn to cover your disappointment from your neighbor's knowing smile. She shouldn't be wiggling her eyebrows over the box wall between you - honestly his type were more annoying than anything. A crash from the alley confirmed it: there was no way a guy like that cared about his soulmate. The gentleness from before was surely a trick of the light.

Your whole side lit up with pain, the impact of something hard against your whole side and you groaned, settling into your mound again. Any curiosity or attraction was snuffed under your annoyance and pain, and your mood soured like fruit left unpicked on the tree.

Selfish, you thought, glaring as a chicken ran squawking from the commotion. What a jerk.

-

The next day, you tried to maintain the sentiment, huffing as he wandered the stalls.

Why does he keep coming back?

You'd have thought his time here was over when he'd dragged that lowlife out of town yesterday. But here he was, buying a crock of soup at the stall next to you, and ignoring her comments about how he couldn't eat it with his helmet on.

She had warmed to him, since he'd put money in her pocket, chattering in a way that kept him stuck for long moments.

It struck you as strange - he almost seemed too awkward to leave, like her returned generosity actually meant something to him. A man like him... surely could've just walked away.

But he stayed for awhile, nodding and looking at the spoons she carved in her free time, and you almost thought he was looking at you, too. Then he ducked his head and planted himself in front of you, and certainly he was.

For all the years you'd spent weaving words to sell your fabrics and goods, you'd never been so speechless. The Mandalorian was large, sharp, shining edges and bulky canvas packs tied to his shoulders - he seemed out of place, filling your whole stall, shuffling as he loomed over you.

He asked for soft brown things - children's clothes.

"Of course, I - I mean, yes, just over here -" you tripped over your words, caught completely off guard by the shape of him, the feel of him just an arms width away, and his request. You stumbled from your seat, nearly toppling in your hurry and his gloved hand wrapped around your arm, catching you.

"You're injured," he stated not really asking. It was... overwhelmingly intimate, him knowing, and acknowledging it, like he cared.

"Yeah, my..." you swallowed, trying not to get lost in the dark glass inches from your face. "My self-centered soulmate keeps getting himself nearly killed."

Even with your heart thumping in your chest, you couldn't keep the bite from your words, bitterness having collected over years of nursing injuries that were consequences of someone else's actions. He didn't let go of you for a moment, his helmet pulling back and tilting, like he was startled.

Then he was cautious, unbearably so, releasing his grip like a child freeing a captured creature when it was time. The topic was dropped, and he made his purchase quickly, but before he left, he paused. The Mandalorian's gloved hand ghosted over your cheek, slowly moving a hair back into it's place, and if you hadn't known better, it was almost an apology.

And then, thick cape swirling in the dust, tiny clothes in tow, he swept away, leaving you along with your whole body alight with a foreign longing.

-

Din felt as though he'd been stabbed.

Hot, hot feelings poured through his chest, spreading fast as fire as he desperately tried to sort through them.

You - you were incredible, fragile and bruised, with the most stunning, determined eyes he had ever seen. Not a Mandalorian, and you had a ... a soulmate, a fucker who left your skin littered with marks, burdening you with ...

He felt panicked, shocked, and guilty, just as he had when you'd told him. It had never occred to him that his soulmate might be there... out there, constantly burdened by his recklessness. His body screamed for attention, something he so often ignored, but this time, he was almost deafened by it.

His feet, legs, arms, chest, heart - all of them wanted him to return to you, in your little fabric stall. To... what? Truly, he hadn't the slightest idea, so his mind won out, shaking a little to try to reign in the muscles that he'd taught to obey him.

He couldn't go to you.

But, he couldn't stay away.

-

He was back in the market, and this time, he wasn't being subtle about staring at you.

Tall and ... slow, he waded through the crowds, making his was towards you like he was following a careful path.

"Can I help you?" You stood, moving almost involuntarily towards him. "Was there something wrong with my -" he was already shaking his head, hands reaching to make you shush.

Waiting, an irrational part of your mind wished he would touch you again, would place his big hands on your skin and sooth the aches that haunted your life. It was unfair, but you didn't stop it, couldn't if you tried.

Carefully, he slid a single finger to your arm, pushing up your sleeve to reveal the little burn you'd gotten.

He was being gentle. It made you want to stomp your feet, jealously welling up in your heart like bile, bitter and hot. How could it be, that someone so powerful had learned so quickly, wanted to, and he wasn't - he wasn't even your -

Then he moved again, pushing up his own sleeve and your thoughts tumbled over each other. It was intimate, even more than before, desperately trusting, as his skin near glowed in the morning light. And there was a burn on his skin, hairs singled like they'd met the edge of a pot of boiling broth.

You wanted to punch him. This man has spent years tossing his body around like he had one one spare, making your own as brittle as bread crust and - you wanted to kiss him. This man had learned after a single day, the impact of his actions, and had been nothing but kind.

The forehead of his helmet pressed into yours, and the two sides of your mind compromised.

Later, words would come - they had to.

But now, your eyes closed, and you sighed. He had the rest of your life to make it up to you - and he would, you were sure.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk @saradika @zinzinina

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 16: An Understanding

Warnings: this one really isn’t bad, just a droid death and sappiness.

Author’s Note: Thank you to anyone who has supported this. We are almost there!

(If this is your gif please lmk!)

The sweet moment between the three of you was quickly ruined by a distant explosion, so the Mandalorian woman quickly rushed you all out after she quickly gave Mando a gift.

A Mandalorian jet-pack.

You had seen other Mandalorians use them in the past, and Mando seemed incredibly honored to have one, so if Mando was happy, you were happy.

The team followed the tunnel towards the smell of sulfur, trying your best to track the lava flats. You didn’t have much of choice. That was the only way out.

As you walked down the tunnels, you held the sleeping child in your arms, keeping him close to you. Mando walked next to you, stealing glances at you as you walked. You would glance back, but he would always face forward once more, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t starring. You would always smile at him when he would turn away, obviously embarrassed.

Who knew you could make a beskar covered warrior like that be embarrassed?

You felt at peace. At home. For once you actually had one. You didn’t even know how to describe the feeling. It’s like your anxious brain and beating heart finally subsided. Like your body relaxed, and you had nothing to fear. Sure, the team was still stuck in these tunnels and the exit would be swarming with stormtroopers, but you had backup. A team. A clan.

It felt like a new start.

Once you finally made it to the river’s edge, a boat was leaned up against the land. It had obviously seen better days and the droid inside hadn’t been used in a long time.

Great.

Mando and Karga tried pushing the boat, but that did no use, so Cara raised her rifle and shot the boat free from the hardened lava.

You smiled at her and chuckled, thinking about the fact she had outsmarted a Mandalorian and a well known Guild member. You were not surprised in the slightest.

You could’ve sworn she laughed back.

Everyone climbed into the boat, and by some miracle, the droid inside sputtered to life. It stood up, raising its paddle and dropping it into the orange liquid beside it. It then said some droid gibberish, which IG-11 presumed was a request.

“I believe he is asking where we would like to go,” IG said.

“Downriver. To the lava flats,” Karga said, and the droid set to paddling.

Mando was to your left, while Cara was at your right. The child had woken up once more, using his energy to chew on your thumb. Mando brought his hand up to his helmet, activating the thermal scanners.

“That’s it,” Karga yelled, pointing to the growing light coming from the end of the tunnel.

“We’re free!”

It had been a long time since you had heard something like that.

“No,” Mando said, squashing your elated mood.

“Stormtroopers. They’re flanking the mouth of the tunnel. They must know we are coming.”

“Stop the boat,” you said sternly to the ferry droid. The droid, however, gave no sign that he actually heard you.

“Hey,” Cara said firmly, walking up to the droid.

“She said stop the boat,” she said before shooting the droid’s head off.

You appreciated Cara’s act of defense for you, you really did, but it didn’t do any good. The boat kept moving.

There was no other way. You had to stand and fight.

You pulled your longspear from your back and tucked the child deeper into your arms. You had fought stormtroopers before, why would this time be any different?

“They will not be satisfied with anything less than the child,” IG said, and you turned your head to look back at him. Your confused expression accurately represented the feelings of the rest of the group as well.

“This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy, and you will escape.”

“You don’t have that kind of firepower pal,” Mando said in reply.

“You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

“That is not my objective,” said the droid. “I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

“What?” you asked the droid.

“I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.”

The droid looked at Mando and said, “Sadly, there is no scenario where the child is saved in which I survive.”

“No,” Mando said, moving closer to the droid.

“You’re not going anywhere. We need you.”

“Please tell me the child will be safe in your care,” the droid said, now looking at both you and Mando.

“But you will be destroyed-” you began to say.

“And you will live,” IG said. “I will have served my purpose.”

He looked to Mando and said, “There is nothing to be sad about.”

“I’m not…. sad,” Mando said, but you were no where near convinced. His voice was the only way for you to humanize him, and emotions were very easily traced on the voice. When you can’t see someone’s face, the voice is all they have. You had gotten good at that.

It seemed IG had gotten good at it too.

“Yes, you are. I’m a nurse droid. I have analyzed your voice,” IG said before coming to the child and brushing his hand along his forehead.

No matter how little Mando wanted to deny it, the droid was your saving grace.

The droid then stepped into the boiling lava, and started making its way down towards the exit.

You watched the droid with wide and curious eyes. You had never seen a droid be so… selfless. You had always seen droids as mindless robots who only acted out of survival, but this one gave its life for you.

You wished you could repay him somehow.

When the detonator on the droid finally exploded, the child in your arms lifted his ears and watched. Even though the droid had been there for a small time, he was still the reason you and the child were alive. It seemed like the kid was loosing a friend.

You could see the pain in his eyes, and you wished you could take it all away from him and put it into your own.

Once the boat finally drifted into the tunnel, you saw the bodies of the stormtroopers on either side of the bank.

Maybe this actually… worked?

But, like many… many… times before, the scream of a tie fighter ruined all chances of an easy departure.

“Moff Gideon!” Cara shouted before raising her blaster and shooting at the aircraft. Mando and Karga immediately joined her, while you used your longspear to shield you and the child from any blaster fire.

The ship’s canons rained fire on the group for a couple seconds before the ship went roaring completely over your heads.

“He missed,” Karga said in relief.

“He won’t next time,” Mando said. The ship was already starting to turn back around.

“He mentioned he knew you,” Mando said to you, referring to when he was trapped in the town not even an hour before this.

“Yeah….” you said.

“I’ve pissed him off,” you chuckled out, and Mando looked at you with a breathy laugh as well.

“Hey,” Karga said suddenly. “Let’s have the kid do the magic hand thing.”

Oh great, you thought to yourself.

“Come on baby! Do the magic hand thing,” Karga said to the kid while wiggling his fingers.

The child only giggled in your arms and waved back, and you let a light chuckle come out of your nose.

“I’m out of ideas,” Karga said.

“I’m not,” Mando said, turning around to get the jet-pack from the boat.

You watched him walk away with a slight smirk on your face. You believed in Mando more than anyone, and you prayed he had enough training to know how to use that thing.

You saw the tie fighter making its way back to you through the corner of your eye, but you continued to watch Mando. He attached the pack to his back and then locked eyes with you before shooting into the sky like a rocket.

You watched him with a beating heart as he flew right in front of the tie fighter, allowing it to go under his feet. He then hooked his grappling cable onto the wing and used the jet pack to propel himself onto the cockpit window.

Even though you were scared out of your mind, you still managed to smile at the sight above you.

Your Mandalorian was incredible.

Mando’s blaster did almost no damage to the cockpit door before Moff Gideon jerked the ship to the left. The ship was starting to spiral, and your awe quickly turned into worry.

Mando was holding on with everything he had.

He all of a sudden let go and went soaring through the air. The left side of the ship completely exploded, which sent the ship careening to the ground. It burst into smoke on impact.

Barely a second later, your Mandalorian landed before you in a slight crouch, before standing to his full height.

The smile on your face said it all.

He chuckled slightly at your shocked and happy expression before taking the child from you and holding him in his arms. You walked to stand beside him and stare up to his face, proud and joyful.

You got a Mandalorian.

Karga and Cara stood before you two with equally shocked expressions

“That was impressive Mando,” Karga said. “It looks like your Guild rates have just gone up.”

You grinned at Karga, enjoying his little tease.

“Any more stormtroopers?” Mando asked.

“I think we cleared the town,” Cara said with a laugh. “I’m thinking of staying around just to be sure.”

“You’re staying here?” Mando asked, equally confused as you were.

“Well, why not?” Karga asked. “Nevarro is a very fine planet, and now that the scum and villainy have been washed away, it’s very respectable again.”

“As a bounty hunter hive?” Mando asked, and you once again giggled at his bluntness.

“Some of my favorite people are bounty hunters,” Karga said with a bit of a chuckle.

“And perhaps”- he said while placing a hand on Cara’s shoulder- “this specimen of a soldier might consider joining our ranks.”

“And you, my friend”- he said while turning his attention back to Mando -“will be welcomed back into the Guild with open arms.”

Mando looked to the child in his arms, beaming up at him with utter adoration. He then looked to you at his side, and you gave him a smile that said I’m with you. With whatever you choose.

“I’m afraid I have more pressing mattors at hand,” he said, turning his head back to the child.

“Well you better keep watch of this one,” Karga said to Mando while gesturing to you.

“She could take your place at the Guild in a second,” he says, while snapping his fingers for emphasis.

“And she would do a damn good job,” he says, and you laugh in reply.

Mando gives a slight nod in agreement which only makes you laugh harder.

You can’t recall ever laughing this hard.

“Y/n,” Cara says, and you divert your attention back to her.

She is trying to look at you, but she just can’t meet your gaze.

“Listen… I… I’m really sorry. The Empire hurt me a lot and I just couldn’t…” she chokes out.

You could tell she was trying to apologize to you. For when your identity got revealed, for doubting your loyalty, or anything in between. She was obviously struggling, so you decided to help her along.

“Cara,” you said, and her eyes met yours.

“Your reaction was perfectly understandable. Truly. There is nothing to be sorry for,” you say, and a flash of relief skates over her eyes.

“I just saw how you were with Mando and the kid today and I…. I owed you an apology,” she said, and you smiled at her.

“Thank you, Cara. I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” you respond, and she smiles back at you. A genuine, relieved smile.

“As am I,” she says while leaning forward to caress the child’s ear.

“Take care of this little one,” Cara said to you and Mando. You gave her a respectful nod, acting as a promise that you would.

“Or maybe,” Karga added, “it will take care of you.”

You looked to Mando with a light smile, and you could tell he was grinning too.

The weight of guilt and shame had been lifted off of you. The people you cared for most forgave you. They looked at what you did right in the eyes, but looked past it, and saw you. You were sure it would take some time for them to completely trust you, but they were willing to try.

You couldn’t ask for anything more.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife @bookloverfilmoholic @impala1967666

[darthmaulification]

(Idk why I thought this but I think it’s funny) Imagine din and reader going back to visit Karga for a job and reader is a apparent heart throb to most of the villagers (not that she knows) and like “hi mrs. Parker” Friday style, these women are see them walking by going “hi Reader~” with cara teasing of reader the whole time having to tell the ladies that reader is already taken with din.

A/N: you are my very first  request, so i decided to do a full, bonifide one shot! thank you so very much!! 🥰💕💕

oddly enough, din doesn’t show his bucket in this until the very end. 💀 it became really cara-centric for some reason. hope that’s okay! 😖

also, the trope of “everyone collectively loves person, but person is so utterly oblivious to it” is, without fail, one of the funniest bits any piece of media can pull lmao.

hope you enjoy! 💗

content: references of sex (kinda), saucy language, gender neutral!reader (my first time writing a gn reader 😲), reader being completely “no thoughts head empty” type of oblivious, cara just brutally teasing reader, soft!din makes an appearance!, cara is also kinda a bisexual icon???

word count: 1,775

“... What do you mean?” 

Cara looks at you strange. She searches your face for a few seconds longer, eyebrows furrowed, trying to see if you’re serious. 

“Are you fucking with me?” She deadpans evenly, and you tilt your head slightly, blinking. You slowly shake your head, raising an eyebrow.

“No...?” You drag out the word and Cara barks a sudden, loud laugh at your genuine confusion, tossing back her head as she does. She straightens up in her seat, still chuckling lightly, and picks up her glass of spotchka. Cara leans against the backrest, draping her free arm over it.

“You’re really not fucking with me, huh?” She mutters with a grin, bringing the glass to her lips and taking a low, long sip, her eyes not leaving yours. You frown, puzzled.

“Cara, I have no ide—"

“Everyone wants to fuck you.” Cara interrupts and it takes a moment for the blunt, vulgar words to register, but when they do you feel heat rise in your cheeks. You visibly recoil, sputtering out an answer.

“I— What are— There's no—” All Cara does as you fumble over your words, getting more and more red in the face, is shrug, an easy grin on her face.

“Yeah, everyone wants to get in your pants, can’t say I blame ‘em.” Her grin turns downright predatory and it gives you the final push to spit out a reply.

“WHAT?” The word comes out incredulous and far louder that you had meant, causing you to cringe at the sound of your voice reverberating in the cantina. People glance over at you and you give the crowd a sheepish, nervous smile. Thankfully, everyone turns back to whatever they were doing, no questions asked. Then your head whips back to Cara, whose all smug-looking, to shoot her a glare. Your face is positively burning, and you just know she can see it.

“Are you fucking with me?” You throw her own question back at her, but it falls flat because all it does is grow the shit-eating grin that’s plastered on Cara’s face. She shrugs, gesturing around lazily to the room at large.

“Jax, the Rodian over there, gives you puppy dog eyes, Kol and Zaltor— the Trandoshans, not the Togrutas, by the way— look at your ass every time they get, that pink Twi’lek gal over there practically fawns over you— think her names’ Numa or Nima or something, the Duros over there...”

Cara continues listing off more and more names, and with each one (some who you know and have spoken to) you feel yourself getting more and more flustered. You sink low in your chair, staring wide eyed into your spotchka, hands on your temples.

“Good Maker.” You groan, placing your hands over your face and slumping onto the table. Cara (finally) stops listing literally the entire population of the village and gazes at you quizzically. She tilts her head.

“Don’t like being the sex idol of the town?” She teases and you groan again, louder this time. You glare up at her through your fingers, still furiously blushing. Oh, how you wish Din was here to beat the snot out of Miss Dune...

“No. This is a nightmare.” You growl out, going back to digging your face into the table, hoping the sandstone would just swallow you whole. Before Cara can reply, a new voice sounds up.

“U-Um, hi.” You stiffen and turn your head to the side to see two Twi’leks, one taller than the other, standing next to the table. They seem a bit nervous, fidgeting with their lekku and rocking on their feet, but something tells you they’re here for... something. The moment you meet Cara’s gaze, your face blanches.

“Kill me now.”

“Hey, pretty ladies.”

You groan and Cara flirts at the exact same time, Cara’s strong voice unfortunately gaining the upper hand. Both Twi’lek giggle, and the taller of the two, the lavender skinned one, flutters her eyelashes. Even more unfortunately, you make eye contact with her. She flushes when you meet her gaze.

“O-Oh my— Stars, um hi!” She and her companion devolve into giggles again and you force yourself to sit up. Giving them a forced smile, you rest your hands under your chin and elbows on the table.

“Hello. What can I do for you?” You ask through gritted teeth, attempting to keep your strained voice relatively nice, while also fighting back both the blush that’s still on your cheeks and the urge to shoot Cara with your blaster. Thankfully, the Twi’leks have gotten over the apparent “meeting their idol” giggles, because now the shorter one places a dusty tan hand on the table and leans in. A bright, stunning smile spreads across her face, but something flirty burns in her eyes.

“Mm. Me and my sister here have just been seeing you around so often.” She says, voice a obviously practiced mix of playfully coy and feigning ignorance. You glance from her, to her lavender sister, then to Cara. And your luck must really be in the gutters, or maybe Cara just wants to torture you—or both— but the mercenary only offers you a grin, lifts her spotchka to her lips, and sips. Your hands curl into fists.

“Yeah, I—” 

“You’re talking to Mando’s squeeze, babes.” Cara interrupts yet again and all three sets of eyes land on her. Two of them moon-eyed and incredulous if not also disappointed, one of them so embarrassed that Carasynthia Dune, you are a dead woman—

“Really?” The lavender Twi'lek’s eyes are so blown wide you almost think they’d roll out of her head. Her sister looks just as awestruck, and both look a tad bit fearful. You go to speak, but Cara (you’re really starting to hate her) opens her mouth again and beats you to the cut.

“Mm hm. Y’all are hitting on the Mando’s sweetheart. Pretty bold, honestly, he’s real protective over this one.” The blush you put all your hard work into smothering returns full force at Cara’s words, and the Twi’leks start looking a bit flustered themselves, though for another reason.

“So sorry!” The lavender one breaks first and goes running off to a Rodian and Zabrak sitting at a far table. She leans in close, seeming to whisper something into their ears, and suddenly all three of them are looking at you with a strange mix of disappointment, lust, and fear. You hastily look away and hide your face behind your hand.

“Aw. Shame.” The tan Twi’lek purses her lips, pushing herself off the table, and you begrudgingly force yourself to look at her. She gives you that stunning smile again and winks.

“You know I’m here for you.” She says and sashays off to where her sister is. Across the room, she gives you another wink and flutters her fingers. Pretty sure that all your bloods’ in your face, you turn to Cara, slowly.

“Cara.” You say her name lowly, looking her dead in the eye. She’s grinning, and blows a lock of her hair out of her face. She feigns an unassuming, innocent look, but both you and her know better.

“Yeah?” She’s walking on thin ice and she knows it, but you also know she’s never been afraid of risk.

“I’m going to kill you.” You say, coming across as deadly serious as you possibly can. Cara’s grin widens, her eyes twinkling, and she downs the last of her spotchka.

“I know,” She starts and she shrugs, “But you know I couldn’t resist.”

You want to reach over and smack her a good one, but a voice alerts you to a certain someone at your side.

“Hey.” Din’s low, modulated voice gentle pulls your attention to him and you turn your head to look up at your silver-clad lover. Even with the dark T-visor, you know exactly where to look to find those soft, doe eyes beneath it. A small smile creeps across your face.

“Hey.” You reply and he offers a hand to you, which you gladly accept. Like always, his hand is large and warm and strong, and it makes you feel completely at peace. Din helps you up to your feet, settling you close, but not too close, to his side. 

“I got the next few pucks, and the kid’s already in the Crest, so we’re ready to head out...” Din trails off and tilts his head, and you can feel his curious gaze roam your face. 

“Your face is... pretty flushed. Are you feeling okay?” He asks it so gently and sweetly, his gloved hand still holding yours, that it’s almost enough to make you forget why your all disheveled in the first place. Letting out a forced, somewhat breathy laugh, you pull your hand away to cross your arms over your chest.

“Um, yeah, yeah— I’m good.” You assure him, but Din knows you so he turns his attention on Cara, whose sprawl in her seat, looking like a satisfied loth cat.

“What did you do?” He asks, keeping his voice neutral, but there’s a hint of that good ol’ Din Protectiveness seeping in too. Part of you celebrates that Din’s finally here to beat up Cara, but all the other parts of you just want to hop on back the Razor Crest and get the Hell out of here. Cara lazily raises her hands in mock surrender, tilting her head into her shoulder.

“Just playing, that’s all.” She replies, eying your spotchka from across the table. She and Din are in some type of staring match even as she reaches and snags your drink. You don’t care enough to protest. Din stares at Cara for a few seconds longer before he shifts on his feet and turns back to you.

“Ready to go, cyare?” His voice is like warm like sunshine, and it makes your entire being light up. You nod and smile, uncrossing your arms to grab his hand. His thick fingers close around yours, encasing your hand in his.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” You reply as you both start walking, tethered to one another by the most sacred link you can while in public. Din and you walk side by side, a Mandalorian and his beloved, through the cantina and out the door.

Cara watches you leave, then looks around at all the inhabitants of the cantina who had also watched you and the Mando leave hand-in-hand. She nearly laughs at all the looks of disappointment. You really were the village heart throb.

And as Cara downs the last of her (your) spotchka, she ponders,

Dammit. Wish it was me instead of Mando.

[apcthetics]

closed starter for INDIE ( @overwhlcmed​ ) location: im not describing the location for every one of the party threads but i am keeping my format.

◦ 「 ☆ 」 ────────────   FOR THE LONGEST time, parties had been the last thing brady had wanted to waste his time on. growing up, the only reason he ever attended them was because of nancy  —  a glorified babysitter under the guise of designated driver, he tended to steer clear of anything he was invited to by his own classmates. safety was in the quiet of his empty childhood home, or his dorm room. but for his ‘ new ‘ personality  —  the risk taker he was trying to be, and the person that people saw on screen  — it was almost a must. once he started travelling, getting to know people, he realized they didn’t like it when he said ‘ no. ‘ they pressed until he gave in, so he stopped putting up a fight. when his life started to spiral upwards, the partying and the socializing just became part of the job. it wasn’t easy ; as much as he seemed to thrive within the chaos, in the beginning his energy would deplete the instant he stepped inside a crowded space. but he found ways around that  —  tiny baggies of pills or bottles of dark, bitter liquid that seemed to ease the anxiety and help him step into the role he thought he needed to play. and indie. but indie helped with everything.

     smaller house parties mostly full of people he knew were less stressful, however, and luckily enough the crutches he usually relied on weren’t at the forefront of his mind tonight. growing bored of watching amari practically drool over bowie for thirty minutes, the always-restless brady politely excused himself from the conversation. he easily squeezed through the crowd that had accumulated in the small brooklyn apartment until he found his best friend. making eye contact with her from across the room, he grinned ; brady pulled one of the toy blasters from his makeshift belt holster and spun it around his finger before pointing it towards her with a playfully muttered ‘ pew pew ! ‘ ( had he been practicing since he picked up the silly little toy blasters that morning ? . . . he had no comment. ) clearly pleased with the display, he approached her. “ y’know, i really wish i had gone for something with a cooler cape. “ discarding the blaster and his drink on the counter and forgetting about them immediately, his hands came up to tug on the hood of her costume. he leaned down a bit so he could meet her eyes under it, the slight quirk of his lips indicating the seriousness of his comment. “ of course, the whole thing is very eye catching, didi. best costume in the house. ” he gestured to himself as reference. “ but i think the cape is really what does it. “ 

[val-aquenta]

I’m on fire posting these fics. They have mostly been languishing in my drafts, so I really just have to spruce them up a tad to post them ahahah. 

Here on ao3

 Qui-Gon is the first to call him Ben. Obi-Wan is a name that is too long for him to yell, so he is nicknamed Ben. At least, that’s what he said. Obi-Wan thinks otherwise, obviously. 

“Why Ben? What’s wrong with Obi-Wan?” He wonders, not noticing he’s said it out loud until he hears Qui-Gon chuckle. “What?” He flushes, affronted by the cheeky grin on his Master’s face. It is a look that screams trouble.

“A little long, Obi-Wan, huh?” Qui-Gon pauses for a moment from where he is preparing for flight. “Not exactly perfect for yelling when I need your attention.”

Obi-Wan puffs up a bit, not dissimilar to a loth cat Qui-Gon notes with amusement. “Obi-Wan is a good name.” The boy defiantly tries not to pout while saying this. “It’s not like I call you… John.” He mutters softly, voice sounding put off.

“John?” The older man’s wrinkles crease around his eyes as he smiles. He shrugs. “Ben is a good name regardless.” He defends.

“Obi-Wan’s better.” He opposes tetchily, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s so special about Ben anyways?” He asks with curiosity, always eager for new information.

“Well, Ben technically means son of my right hand, a phrase from my homeworld’s main religion.” Qui-Gon murmurs, willing to try and satisfy Obi-Wan’s need for answers. “The religion is… complex. I don’t even understand it completely, but I do understand the meaning of the phrase.” He pauses.

“Well… what’s the meaning of the phrase?” Obi-Wan fiddles with his hands, eyes alight with interest. He flushes self-consciously when Qui-Gon lifts his eyebrows as though proving a point. He ducks his head, a hint of red on his cheeks. 

“Well, in the religion, there is an entity called God. And the phrase to be at the right hand refers to being in a space of special honour, the right hand, of God.” He explains, enjoying the way Obi-Wan seems to brighten with the new information. “Being the son of the right hand should mean that you will grow into this space of importance. Rather fitting, don’t you think?”

“Oh…” Obi-Wan flushes, freckles disappearing into the deep red colour. Qui-Gon swears the tips of the boy’s ears are red. “That is kind of you to say, Master.”

“It is the truth, my Padawan.” Qui-Gon smiles, clapping a large hand on his shoulder and tugging the boy in for a hug. Obi-Wan startles, tensing for a couple of seconds until he relaxes, shorter arms just barely managing to reach around Qui-Gon. 

::::

Satine was the next to call him Ben. You see, Bant never truly latched onto the name that Qui-Gon christened him with, preferring to stick to her shortened form, Obi. Therefore, Satine is the next. She hears it once when they’re getting shot at and Qui-Gon has a plan that has an 80% chance of ending up with all three of them dead, but it’s better than their current odds. Qui-Gon yells it at him to get the boy to pay attention. 

At first, Satine is startled, thinking a new ally has joined them but is surprised that it’s just a nickname for Obi-Wan. Granted, she doesn’t call him Ben for that long because she, like Bant, prefers to call him Obi.

She does call him Ben when they’re parting ways, and Obi-Wan’s chest aches something fierce. Qui-Gon watches, eyes somewhat sympathetic as they follow Obi-Wan. He pretends not to notice as they share one small, sweet, innocent kiss. It’s everything Obi-Wan wants, but he hesitates and glances back at his Master, and then pulls away from the embrace, head bowed. It is almost everything he wants, and that makes all the difference. If he stayed, he would abandon his Master and his family in the Temple. More than that, he would abandon his path as a Jedi. Even Satine, for all he cares about her, is not enough to sway him from his path. The Force whispers in his mind, sorrow and apologetic, thankful for his sacrifice. The choice cements and he lets go of Satine.

“Ben…” Satine whispers, the word almost lost in the wind. “I… good luck.” Her blonde hair, carefully arranged on her head, moves as she bows. “Thank you, Master Jedi, for your protection.” Obi-Wan bows back, though his head remains tilted down, not willing to look at the woman.

“It was our pleasure,” Qui-Gon responds, sending a little pang of comfort down the growing bond with his Padawan.

“Do be careful.” She says, deviating from her formal script. “Farewell, Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi.” The names fall easily onto her tongue as though she hadn’t spent almost a year calling them something else with much more familiarity. 

“May the force be with you, Duchess Kryze,” Obi-Wan murmurs, and he walks away from Satine, from the comfort of that life, and into the Jedi transport, his Master, a steady and strong pillar in the Force, ahead of him.

“… Ben?”

“Yes, Master.” Qui-Gon looks as though he wants to say something, wants to spill some secret, but he thinks better of it, instead closing his mouth and opening his arms, catching Obi-Wan as he falls into them. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs into the pale ear, his hand stroking circles into Obi-Wan’s shoulders. The boy, because that’s what he is, does not respond, only tightening his grip and inhaling the comforting scent of his Master.

::::

Mace is the third Jedi off the transport ship. He is also the third to call Obi-Wan Ben, though that happened a while back on a joint undercover mission with Qui-Gon. He reverted to calling him Obi-Wan, but then he reverts once more. He’s older and wiser, and, has been a friend ever since Obi-Wan was a small young child of the creche. 

“Obi-Wa… Ben.” Obi-Wan’s heart cracks just a bit more. Never again will he hear that familiar voice whispering that name to him. The deep baritone voice rumbling it. It hurts worse than leaving Satine, Cerasi, or Siri, or losing Reeft had. “Sit down with me and let’s talk.”

“Yes, Master Windu.” The response is immediate, drilled into him with years of training.

“Tell me how you feel, Ben.” Mace rumbles, voice not as deep as Qui-Gon’s, but very close. Obi-Wan is certain that if he were to press his ear to the bald Jedi’s chest, he would feel the voice vibrating.

“Fine…” That response is nailed into him out of fear. Fear of not being good enough. 

“Really?” Mace murmurs disbelievingly, leaning forwards and taking in the red-tinged eyes. A hand reaches out and takes one of Obi-Wan’s hands, feeling the slight chill that seems to emanate from him. “You don’t look fine to me.” He says in a frank manner that only he can pull off without sounding overly rude. 

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Obi-Wan responds, more exasperated than he thought it was going to sound. 

“Ben… you’re not wrong to be sad. It isn’t wrong to feel loss or to grieve.” Mace says, voice closer to whispering than to speaking. The man scoots closer to Obi-Wan who, in the eyes of the Republic is also a man but, in reality, still feels like the thirteen-year-old being sent to Bandomeer, or the sixteen-year-old who left Satine, or the- “You’ve just lost a man who has been by your side for twelve years. It will hurt.” Obi-Wan laughs, but it is more cracked and painful than any laugh Mace has heard. He desperately scrubbing at his eyes as though he wishes to scour them away.

“I know it hurts, Master. Force, my chest feels as though I was the one who was run through with a lightsaber, not Qu-” His voice breaks around the name, and he devolves into small sobs. Mace observes the boy being thrust into Knighthood with something close to helplessness. He had lost Cyslin in a less brutal manner and yet it had hurt all the same. All Mace can do is offer some comfort to the man. “There’s a hole where he was and I can’t-” Obi-Wan's voice cuts off as he cradles his head in his hands. 

“Ben,” Mace says it curtly, as though fully taking advantage of how short it is. Qui-Gon dragged it out a bit, seemingly relishing the way the name made his mouth shape. Satine’s lips always made the name sound sweet. Short and filled with emotions. “Observe and release your emotions.”

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan admits. He tries to look at his emotions. He can understand, but he can’t release and make them go away. There’s just too much. He says as much to Mace. 

“Let me help, Ben.” And it is as though Obi-Wan is a youngling once more, trailing behind Padawan Windu in cream coloured corridors. As though they’ve been transported to a time when Mace’s forehead did not have the stressed wrinkles it does now. As though Obi-Wan hasn’t just had a piece of his heart carved out with a sith lightsaber. Together they sink into meditation, aware of each other, and acknowledging one another. With a little flick from Mace, Obi-Wan begins to reveal his mind warped by guilt and self-loathing and anger and pain and… it’s too much, Mace admits to himself. So, he starts small. A small statement, I was too slow, is given to him, and they watch it together, understand it together, and accept it together. Then, he moves to another, unwanted. And to the dozens that remain. Mace does not judge, and his heart aches at the knowledge of the burdens Obi-Wan is thrusting upon himself, but he says nothing about it, only reaching for the boy… man after their meditation and bringing him into a hug that lasts a full minute.  

::::

Cody is a really good researcher. Sure, he’s great with a blaster, and hand to hand combat, and anything to do with the military really. He was trained under Jango Fett and the Kaminoans. But, one of his greatest strengths is his efficient diving into the Holonet. He can splice information from different databases, even the Jedi Temple’s database. Technically, he could just go to the Archives and find the information, but he could be seen there, so he doesn’t. Instead, he sits at the main console of his barracks and begins to get information regarding his new General. The Jedi, Kenobi, seems nice enough, but looks can be deceiving. In this case, however, it seems that they’re not. The little ginger seems to have a kind streak about the size of Ryloth. 

“What in the world…” He mutters as browsers pop up. Multiple mission reports that he skims through to reveal another thing. Apparently, the General has a penchant for injuries. A really bad one if the reports are not a joke. He digs through one that was co-written by one Qui-Gon Jinn, and he spots some errors. At least, he’s sure they are errors because he’s pretty sure the General’s called Obi-Wan… not Ben. However, he doubts that the General would let that slide.

“Ben.” He forms the name under breath, making some multi-syllable word from it. “Ben.” He says it curtly. It is more efficient than to say General Kenobi or, Force forbid, Obi-Wan. The Jedi have the oddest names.

“Commander…” He jumps, turning to look at the man in question as he walks into the barracks completely unannounced. “I was, ah, wondering if you would like-” He squints at the console’s screen. Cody flushes deeper than before, the crimson stain spreading around his neck and up to his ears. Caught researching his General by the General in question. Rex will never let it go. 

“General Kenobi, sir.” He plants his feet and straightens his back. Obi-Wan looks at the report and then at Cody and then back to the report. 

“Did you… hack into the Temple?” He questions curiously. 

“Well… I do have the access codes…” He trails off. 

“Is this… the mission to Joonta?” The General strokes his beard, leaning forwards to read his report. “Force, my diction was horrible back then. So was Qui-Gon’s.” He scrolls down.

“Sir…”

“Yes, Cody.” He seems oddly enthralled by the report, scrolling rather quickly through the pages. 

“Is your name Ben?”

“Sometimes.” Obi-Wan… Ben? Hums. Reading through the report absently. Noticing the silent prompting from Cody, the General shakes himself a bit. “Oh. It’s a nickname given by my Master. Almost no one uses it.” 

“Ah.”

“Cody… you can call me Ben if you’d like. I don’t mind.” He stops the frantic scrolling to look at Cody.

“The vod will better understand if I call you General Kenobi, sir,” Cody says while ticking the name onto the General’s name. General Obi-Wan ‘Ben’ Kenobi. Jedi and their names. 

“If that is your wish.” Obi-Wan smiles. “Now, I came here to offer you tea in my quarters. Would you like to come?” 

::::

Ahsoka’s always heard of the famous Master Kenobi or Padawan Kenobi or Knight Kenobi in pairs. Padawan Kenobi was always paired with Master Jinn, Knight Kenobi was paired with Padawan Skywalker, and Master Kenobi is paired with Knight Skywalker. Knight Skywalker is now obviously paired with Padawan Tano, so they're all connected. Contrary to what Anakin would think, Padawan Kenobi is the term she’s much more familiar with, and therefore is more familiar with the pairing of Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi. Even though she knows so much about Anakin and Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are within all the stories that the Crechemasters say. She knows of the most interesting missions that the duo took and is somewhat embarrassed to admit the amount of hero-worship she has for the two.

“Master Obi-Wan, is it true that you had to drink pirates under the table to rescue Master Jinn?” She asks out of the blue one day, noticing the way Anakin’s hand tightens ever-so-slightly, blue eyes dashing to Obi-Wan’s pinched expression. She’s new to her apprenticeship and she still feels overwhelmed if she thinks too hard about the fact that she’s the Padawan of The Anakin Skywalker, and is part of the famous lineage. 

“… Yes. Where did you hear that, Ahsoka?” He frowns while stroking his beard, a habit he can’t seem to break. He doesn’t look too annoyed by the question. Instead, he looks amused and rather curious.

“Ages ago, Master, in the creche.” Obi-Wan shrugs and continues, waving off Anakin’s worried words. The smile on his face is nice to see. Ahsoka thinks it looks bad when the Frown is in place, and that is all that has been in place since the invasion of Ryloth began. She’s happy that she could coax a smile out of the typically austere looking man.

A few months later while they’re travelling through hyperspace on Obi-Wan’s ship, Ahsoka blurts another question. Obi-Wan had offered to teach Ahsoka some jar’kai during the hyperspace travel, and Anakin had assented, remaining on his ship while Ahsoka trained with her other Master. “Master Obi-Wan, is it true that you once were eaten by a large squid and then spat out?” She asks at the mess hall. Cody, who was rather peacefully eating his meal thank you very much, chokes on the ration’s he was chowing on. Stitches, the medic, appears to have swallowed water down the wrong pipe and is sending a concerned look at Obi-Wan. The man in question deflates, shrugs, and answers quietly. 

“Yes, Ahsoka. On Fuleya. Master Jinn thought I was dead for two minutes. Nearly screamed his throat raw trying to cut me from the beast's stomach.” He shrugs and then proceeds to tap on his datapad as though the clones in the immediate vicinity aren’t looking as though they’re having heart attacks. They’re very… protective of their General sometimes. Ahsoka shrugs as well, turning back to her meal. “Was this also heard in the creche?” He asks with the very amused glint in his eyes. The smile also seems to brighten his face. 

Ahsoka feels a warmth in her stomach at having brought another smile to the man’s face, especially considering the stress he seems to be under with the war. “Yes. I heard lots about you.” He shakes his head fondly. She thinks that the smile on his face is worth the possibility that the clones might wrap him in blankets and lock him on the ship. Not that that would be a bad idea thinking about it… 

“Master Obi-Wan,” She starts, her head tilted in wonder. This time, they’re alone. They are at the Temple, in Obi-Wan’s living room, sharing some tea. Anakin, ever the disliker of tea, had opted out, likely going off to see Padmè. “Is it true that your second name is Ben?” At this, Obi-Wan chokes on his tea, spraying the liquid around the room as he coughs.

Ahsoka startles, putting her own cup down and scooting closer to offer some assistance. “What?” He asks weakly, bringing a hand to his chest. This has been the most intense reaction so far. She rubs her hand softly on his back. Humans are ever so slightly warmer than togruta, and she delights in feeling the warmth through his Jedi robes.

“Barriss told me that Master Unduli told her that Master Windu told her that your second name is Ben.” Ahsoka chatters, looking curiously at the man who lies on the couch.

“Technically, Ben is not my second name. I don’t have one.” Obi-Wan runs a weary hand down his face. “Ben is a nickname given to me by my Master.” 

Ahsoka perks up. “Oh, really? Like I’m ‘Snips’ to Anakin?” She questions, excited to learn more of the rather mysterious Master. 

“Well, I suppose? Ben probably has more thought put into it than Snips.” He smirks playfully. 

“How so?” At this Obi-Wan flinches. Ahsoka casts him another worried look but he waves it off.

“It’s a name meaning that I‘ll be special, essentially. It’s native to Qui-Gon’s homeworld.” He smiles softly at Ahsoka. “Much better than ‘Don’t get snippy with me.’” She laughs, happy to once more bring another smile to his face.

“Maybe.” She concedes. “I like Snips though.” Obi-Wan lifts an amused brow.

“I like Ben too.” They smile at each other.

::::

Luke never knows Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan. The thing is, Obi-Wan is dead before Luke is even born. In his place, Ben Kenobi is there. He knows the rough and weathered hand of Ben, not the smooth hand of Obi-Wan. He listens to the voice of Ben, not Obi-Wan. Because of that, there is no need for Luke to call Ben anything but Ben. 

“Ben… why are you called Ben?” He asks one day. Owen is feeling in a more forgiving mood and Beru probably took pity on the sad old man, and they have allowed Ben to visit for a bit.

“The same reason you’re called Luke. I was named Ben.” He responds with a slight smile. 

“Your Mom named you Ben?” Luke asks head tilted in curiosity much like another youngling tilted her head while asking about the name Ben. He wonders where the young togruta is, or even whether she’s still alive.

“No. My… father named me Ben." He swears that there is the gentle hum of laughter in the deep rumbling voice of his Master floating through the air. He looks around, but just the typical homestead surrounds him.

“Oh. That’s cool.” And that’s that. The boy runs away to the deeper parts of the house, a smile on his face. In his hands, a soft blue blanket flies in the wind.

::::

Vader knows who Obi-Wan Kenobi is. He is the man who took everything from him. He took his unborn child, his wife, his limbs, and his potential. Vader is sure that most of his problems stem from this Obi-Wan. Vader, however, does not know who Ben Kenobi is. You see, Anakin never knew Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan together long enough to know of the nickname. He wasn’t there as Qui-Gon whispered the name softly before his death. He never listened to Master Windu sigh his name as the two were chatting as they walked the halls. He never listened to the now-dead Duchess whispering nicknames into the ear of his former Master. He never listened to Cody jokingly calling the ginger, Ben. He never noticed how Ahsoka would whisper to Master Ben sometimes. Because of this, he misses the Jedi Master in his hiding spot. 

“Darth Vader. Have you found your former Master as I asked?” Sidious sits on his throne of lies and steeples his fingers, wretched features obscured by his long, dark robe.

“No, my Lord.” The man bows stiffly at the waist, metal limbs not allowing anything truly graceful. “Kenobi is elusive, but he is old. Soon, he will be dead.” 

Unknown to the two, Ben Kenobi, not Obi-Wan because that man died alongside the thousands of Jedi in the Purge, watches as a boy, the son of his fallen brother, plays in the sand, a toy spaceship in hand. Ben sits on the tip of a dune, smiling at the happiness the boy unknowingly projects as he wooshes the ship around above him. Ben’s hands are busy, carving a new ship for the child. He plans to make a Nubian for the boy. 

“Ben!” The boy shouts across the desert, waving his hand. “Hello!” Ben smiles, and waves his hand in a silent greeting before he stands, joints creaking as he does, and turns back to his hut. Another day and the boy is safe. Cocooned in the silence of Tatooine, Ben takes comfort in the setting suns.

“Ben.” He hears the wind whisper, joining the deep baritone of Qui-Gon, the dulcet tones of Satine, the curt voice of Mace, the kind voice of Cody, and the young voice of Ahsoka. Luke’s toddler voice adds itself to the litany of voices, and Ben grins, watching the ever-changing dunes. Today was a good day. Seeing Luke usually makes his day, and this is one of those instances. A visit from his Master would do him good, he thinks. Soon, he will be too old for the lessons that the man has planned, but he plans to enjoy them while they last. Ben walks into the dunes, towards his hut. He might only have the ghost of one of the people who called him Ben, but he carries the other four close to his heart, carefully adding one more to that collection. The newest addition has a clear voice that is destined to deepen as he ages.  

“How was your day, Padawan?” Qui-Gon is standing in front of the hut, serene as he was in life. Perhaps even more so. 

Obi-Wan smiles wryly, feeling at peace for one of the first times in a while, “Quite nice, Master.”

Qui-Gon smiles indulgently, pleased that Obi-Wan still finds some joy in his life, “That is comforting to hear, Ben.”

[pedropascalssimp]

Could I get #3 on the angst prompt list that’s turns into #37 on the fluff prompt list with Darth Maul please!!

I'M. SO. SORRYYYY IT TOOK SO LONG!!!

But here you go! One darth maul fic for the amazing person who asked for it!

Prompt 37: “home stopped being a place when you entered my life”

Prompt 3: “we both know I should walk away, but I can't”

Warnings: just some light angst and fluff! (it's short too👉👈🥺

Darth maul x Fem reader

The sun had just slowly crept up over the horizon, the early morning breeze cold as it blows in through the open window you stood by.

You felt his anger through the force, felt his anguish rolling off of him in waves that crash against your heart causing the reality of this situation to settle in. Soft footfalls pacing in a rhythmic against the floors of your room echoing off the walls. He knew, knew the secret you tried keeping from him. You and the crimson Zabrak that paced the floor had been in love in secret for so only a few months but what felt like centuries, you knew who he was, a Sith, His red lightsaber giving that away the moment you had met him. You should have steered clear of him, you should have hated him. But something drew you close to him, something about him was so entrancing that you couldn't bring yourself to ever hate him. So after plenty of encounters with one another and the flirtatious banter shared over duels with each other, you and the Zabrak known as maul had soon fell in love somewhere along these useless battles you had when stumbling across each other.

You watched as he paced once you turned around, Golden eyes focused on the floor as he had his hands clasped behind his back. You didn't need the force to detect his anger, the scowl on his face and wry silent, both signs he was infuriated.

Having felt your eyes on him, he stops abruptly and turns his head slightly to stare at you, more like glare. “When did you plan to tell me?” voice soft yet held a dangerous edge to it as he watched your every reaction. Your fearful brokenhearted expression seemed to stay since he approached you about this secret of yours.

Gulping you gaze into his eyes trying to make him see th truth swimming in your eyes amongst the tears threatening to fall. But you knew it wouldn't matter at this point, his mind clouded by anger. “I wanted to tell you the moment you had loved me” you finally spoke, hating how your voice came out so little, so desperate.

“Then what made you refrain? You're love for him!?” his yell bounces of the walls as he motions to the empty space behind him but refers to the very soul you had once called a master, a friend…

“I don't feel anything for Obi-Wan!” you raised your voice slightly but unlike his, yours was out of desperation rather than anger.

He scoffs with a bemused chuckle, glaring at the wall now. “Yet you still send him transmissions when you leave to the markets?” his hands fall by his sides now.

You avert your glossy eyes to the floor of your shared sleeping chambers. you knew that maul wouldn't understand, the bond you and Obi-Wan had formed ever since you were a padawan was platonic. You saw him as a friend, someone to rely on. But ever since you met maul? The moment he had walked into your life all those months ago? You knew his hatred for the Jedi Master. How your former master put him through pain and suffering, taking his legs from him with the blue fiery warmth of his lightsaber.

“I sent him one transmission because I made him a promise that I would always keep in touch with him, maul… He—He's my friend” you say softly with a frown, heart aching at how he stared at you with a burning hatred at the mere thought of the Jedi.

“Friend? You consider the man who did this to me a friend?” motioning to his robotic legs before growling. turning away from you sharply. his back to you, his heart clenched in pain by the fact you knew what Obi-Wan had done to him, you knew that the man you claimed to be a friend was his nemesis, someone he longed to seek revenge on. Yet you had neglected to inform him that you were friends with the Jedi Master, that you had always been friends with Obi-Wan since a young age. You knew you should have told maul, but you didn't out of fear he'd leave you.

“I was going to tell you, my love. But I thought that you would hate me for caring about Obi-Wan as a friend” your lips trembling upon the realization that Maul could possibly hate you after discovering the friendship you had with Obi-Wan, one you cherished obviously as you still kept in contact with him.

He looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes locking on yours that let a few tears slip, trailing down your face as you looked back at him. You looked utterly defeated, heartbroken as you accepted the fate of your beloved hating you.

Oh how he wished he could at this moment, he wished he could banish you from this grand palace and be done with you. But he couldn't, he couldn't leave you even if he tried. His love for you deep and endlessly, something he cherished. “We both know I should walk away, but I can't” he murmured with a soft sigh, shoulders slouching as he stares at the wall ahead of him.

His words hit you like a red fiery bolt from a blaster, your eyes flickering up to stare at the back of his head as a new wave of tears wash over you, these hopeful, hoping that you may still have a chance with Maul. “What's stopping you? What I kept from you… It Wasn't right of me, I should have told you about my friendship with Obi-Wan —

“What's stopping me?” he turns around to face you, slowly walking forward so now he stood mere inches from you, chest almost brushing against his as he lets his eyes roam your face with a soft expression, any forms of anger gone. “I'd be walking away from the only soul in the galaxy who has made me feel something other than hatred or pain, I'd be walking away from the only person who has loved me without hesitation” he said while cupping your cheek, warm large hand sending a flush over your cheeks as his eyes showed such love, truth. You place a shaky hand on his that rests upon your cheek, leaning into his touch. Your eyes locked on his golden ones, the red specks swimming in the pools of soft yellow hues. You were lucky to have captured the heart of such a beautiful soul, Maul certainly the only one who could ever make your heart flutter the way it does.

“I love you maul, so much…” you whisper as he leans closer to place a kiss on your forehead. Lips soft as they brush against your skin so delicately.

“As I do you my love, perhaps even more” he replied as his lips linger over the spot he just kissed, your eyes closed as he kept you close. “Even if you want to walk away…go home to you're friend, I wouldn't stop you” he whispers softly as his own eyes closed, tears dampening his lashes as he tries keeping them in, he loathed the thought of losing you, watching you walk away a image he'd never wish to see.

But you merely laugh lightly at his words, placing both hands on his cheeks and pushing him back some so to see his eyes. “Home stopped being a place when you entered my life” you muttered with such a loving smile he felt his two hearts swelling with love for you. Maul smiles ever so slightly as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close to him, face nuzzling the crook of your neck as he basks in having you in his arms still, surprised you hadn't left the moment he had yelled at you in anger, pushed you away and forced tears into your eyes.

But if there is one thing maul discovered after loving you for a few months, it's that you are full of surprises. “How did a monster like me get so blessed to have the galaxy gift me such a sweet and beautiful human?” he spoke while still nuzzling your neck, lips tickling the flesh there making you giggle. Arms tightly wrapped around him as your cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“I'm the blessed one, to have you” you say, embracing his warmth that envelopes you. Perhaps somewhere among this situation you found yourself in, you and Obi-Wan could remain friends. But if not, you were willing to end the long term friendship with the Jedi Master if it meant keeping Maul by your side.

[cl-01-kestis]

The Fall of Atollon

Dismay - Grand Admiral Thrawn x Rebel!Reader | Part 1

Summary: a decade and a half flies by and Omani is growing into an adult. It’s your responsibility to protect her from the dark truths of the Empire.

Warnings: very long, violence, angst

(Omani looks like this, using Ar’alani for reference)

“It’s too hot out here” You puffed out, lying on the ground beside Omani who was gulping down her water bottle at a rapid pace, wiping the sweat of her forehead as she hummed in agreement.

“That’s Atollon for you, Tiscen’i, but I agree... I don’t think it’s ever been this hot before” Omani panted as she removed her top, her black sports bra covering her chest as she dumped her T-shirt next to yours. She lay in the other direction from you, her head beside yours as the two of you bathed in the suns light.

As mother and daughter, shockingly, no one would ever guess either of you were related. She was mistaken to be a full blooded Chiss most of the time she met someone new. But when you say you’re her mother, that makes things twice as shocking. One, you’re a human, and two, you look stunning for your age, barely looking a few years older than Omani. Since Omani was now considered a grown up, your attitude started to change with her. Instead of treating her like a little girl, you treated her like your best friend. The two of you shared everything to each other, embarrassing stories, who you thought was attractive, countless inside jokes, but never your past. You’d lost count of how many times your daughter asked you who her father was, she was practically his double and you felt like you were cheating her out of her own heritage, but it was for her own safety.

She had sprouted into such a beautiful young woman, she had been promoted to general recently due to how much effort she had contributed to the rebellion. You used to be a general yourself, however you switched to a Senator after Omani was born with the guidance of Bail Organa, your mentor. You only attended the senate a handful of because of your betrayal to the Empire, you couldn’t risk being identified by a once known ally and trialed for treason. You couldn’t do that, not to Omani.

“Any more news about Thrawn?” You asked, biting the inside of your cheek as your daughter scoffed and let out an almost disgusted sigh.

“Unfortunately yes, that bircisb’s close to discovering the base... I’m doing all I can to keep everyone safe here, including you” Omani turned her head to look at you and noticed the frown stuck on your face. She was going to ask but thought it would be best if she kept her mouth shut since all you ever did was ignore her concern whenever she asked.

Thrawn, her father, was a man she wanted nothing more than to shoot. She was aware of his Chiss origins and even saw him once on a holo recording with you beside her, nearly on the verge of fainting. It took you all your strength not to tell her the truth, but thankfully she didn’t suspect anything about her possibly being related to him and digging into it.

“You work too hard visahot, but you remind me of myself when I used to work for the Empire” You joked dryly, earning a soft chuckle from Omani who leaned her head against yours whilst blocking her bright red eyes from the sun.

“Did you ever meet him whilst you were in the academy? Maybe Tarkin or Vader?” Omani asked curiously, shifting her body at an angle so the back of her head was resting on your shoulder.

“You’d never be lucky enough to see Tarkin or Vader... they were far too superior to be in an imperial academy,” You started.

“But Thrawn? He was the meanest and most serious man I’d ever met” Your voice was oddly calm as you spoke to Omani. She was surprised when the words left your mouth, this was the most open you’d ever been with her and of all the things it was about the man causing terror to their rebellion?

“So you did meet him?” Your daughter smirked, rolling onto her stomach so she was looking at you, her face upside down from where you were lying. You smiled at her expression and shrugged.

“Comrades, but I only spoke to him once” You lied through clenched teeth, sitting up and avoiding bashing Omanis head as she leaned back and sat up with you. The two of you looked at one another and for a moment, all you could see was Thrawn. She was so like him, mannerisms and even accent. The only difference was what side they fought on, a father and daughter on opposite sides and neither of them even knew of their connection, only you did.

“You never really open up about your time at the academy, was it really that bad?” Your blue skinned daughter raised a brow, her beautiful red eyes looking straight into yours as if she was searching for the truth.

“It’s an experience I’m not willing to fully share yet, visahot, but one day you’ll know” You reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder, patting it in an assuring manner which seemed to put her curiosity to the side for the time being.

A flock of loud shouting had brought the two of you out of your thoughts and you stood up immediately, throwing on your shirt and waiting for Omani who ushered you forward whilst putting on her own shirt, tugging it over her head clumsily whilst running to the holo table which all of the rebels surrounded. You spotted Hera Syndulla, her face melting into a frustrated frown. You noticed there were multiple star destroyers that popped up on the hologram, a flock of them right above Atollon.

“Oh no...” You mumbled, heart dropping to your feet when you realised what this meant for you and the rebels.

“Thrawn’s planning an orbital strike on Atollon” Hera said, trapping her chin between her index finger and thumb. You looked at her with wide, terrified eyes, wishing this was all some kind of nightmare. Omani reached out and held your hand out of fear, staying close to you as you both looked at the hologram.

Zeb and Rex had installed a protective barrier around the base, but you weren’t sure how long it was going to hold up for. Omani had left to get dressed and get her things packed, her blaster in her hand when she returned and was called to plan out what was going to happen by other rebels. You stayed with Hera, practically on the verge of hyperventilating as you knotted your hair with your fingers, trying to control your breathing.

“Hey, don’t get all scared on me now, you’re the bravest woman I know on this damn planet” Hera walked up to you, taking your hands away from your hand and holding them tight. You sniffed, nodding your head as a few tears left your glassy eyes.

“Death isn’t what I’m worried about” You whimpered, Thrawn’s face coming into mind when you looked back at the star destroyers. You were afraid to look at the sky, too petrified to even think of anything else apart from the fact that Thrawn was here.

“Then what is it?” Hera asked with confusion, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and taking you away from the table since the image wasn’t making you feel any better. You rubbed your eyes, swallowing down the lump in your throat and trying your best to stay strong for the rebels.

“I can’t say, but promise me if anything goes wrong, you’ll get Omani away from here?” You looked up at the Twi’lek, pleading with your eyes as your hands trembled by your side. Hera nodded sternly, pulling you into a brief hug before excusing herself to prepare for the upcoming orbital strike, leaving you alone in a flurry of anxiety.

You rushed to your room, which had once belonged to you and Ahsoka but now her side of the room was taken up by Omani. You grabbed your jacket and pulled it over your arms and back, grabbing two blasters and a locket which you had since your Imperial days, a locker Thrawn gave to you.

When you got back outside, the orbital strike was taking place. Panicking, you screamed out Omanis name over and over again, looking in all directions before you saw her far away watching the strike with her friends by her side. You let out a sigh of relief but you ran to Hera who was staring up at the herd of incoming green lasers slamming against the barrier. You could see the barrier starting to weaken, you trembled beside Hera who looked away just as the shield was about to break, when all of a sudden the firing stopped.

Everything was dead silent for a while, the sound of burning surrounding the outside of the shield and clouds of black smoke rising from the ground.

“It held! It held!” You heard Zeb yell in the distance, a relieved smile making its way onto your face after some time. You turned to Omani, noticing she was laughing with her friends and rubbing her eyes as if she’d been crying.

Looking over to see you, she bolted in your direction and slammed her body against yours in a tight embrace, her arms wrapped tight around your neck as she held back a sob in your shoulder. You stroked her navy coloured hair, pressing a firm kiss on her temple before pulling back and cupping her face with your hands. No words were exchanged as the two of you smiled at one another before hearing the voices of Zeb and Rex requesting your help.

-

This wasn’t exactly the situation you were planning to be in. You, Zeb and Rex all hid behind a large plant on the outskirts of the rebel base where most of the air strike had hit. The smell of burning and dirt filled your senses but now was not the time to complain, now was the time to hopefully take down the Empire’s ambush.

“I hope this plan of yours works” Zeb said to Rex, the three of you looking ahead at the desolate patch of land ahead and waiting for any sign of movement.

“Yeah...me too” Rex replied in a not so confident tone, causing you to look up at him with a frown but you let it slide for the time being. Rex looked through his binoculars, inspecting what was in the distance as you and Zeb as well as lots more other rebels awaited for the order. The familiar sound of metal creaking caught your attention and made your hearing perk up. You listened in, recognising the sound that belonged to an AT-ST.

“Here they come” Zeb nervously informed you and Rex. You held your breath when Rex pulled out the small detonator in his hand and not wasting a moment as his thumb pressed down eagerly on the red button at the top.

Three explosions erupted ahead of you and half of the AT-ST’s were taken down in seconds. Pressing the button once more, two more ST’s were taken down but one of them managed to get through the barrier. Zeb stood up behind you and Rex, holding a massive rocket launcher with a big grin on his purple face.

“Left one for you” Rex smirked, his grin matching Zeb’s as he ignited the rocket launcher which flew right into the middle of the ST, exploding as it touched the surface. You cheered, patting Zeb on the shoulder as you stood up to inspect the damage from a distance. Your coms link went off on your wrist and you brough it up to your face to see that Omani was contacting you.

“Hey Mom! Was the mission a success?” Her voice was eager but also full of concern.

“Yes Princess, Rex and Zeb took down 6 ST’s! Safe to say we’ll be okay” You assured her with a smile, speaking clearly into the mic of the coms.

“That’s a relief” She chuckled.

“I hope you’re safe back at the base? Don’t sneak out and join in the action, as tempting as it is” You warned her, frowning slightly when it went silent briefly.

“You know I don’t sneak around, Tiscen’i, when have I ever denied you?” Omani spoke in an almost sarcastic tone but it still managed to make you laugh. Just as you were about to reply, a loud noise came from the distance and you and Rex snapped your heads towards it.

“I know that sound...” Rex murmured.

“Yeah... and I hate that sound” Zeb snarled.

“I need to go, somethings happening- I love you visahot” you said quickly before cutting off the line, giving no time for Omani to reply and give her more reason to worry for your safety.

“Lousy four leggers” Rex growled, drawing your attention to the four AT-AT’s making their way towards you.

“Hit ‘em with the detonators” Zeb urged with a scowl, still holding the large and now empty rocket launcher. Rex pressed down on the small button in his hand once more, causing more bombs to go off, only this time none of them effected the AT’s and they still continued moving forward and eventually passing through the barrier.

“We need Sabine to create a shield you can’t walk through” Zeb spoke in a frustrated tone, his eyes flashing with anger but also concern.

“Let’s hope we get a chance to tell her” Rex agreed before turning on his heel and making a run for it. Wasting no time, you followed the clone and the Lasat deeper into the Atollon forest and further away from the AT’s. A loud explosion erupted behind the three of you and you realised the AT was targeting you all as well as the other rebels who stayed behind you, Zeb and Rex. You didn’t bother looking back as the sound of X-wings and tie fighters roared through the sky above you, shooting at each other and some eventually zooming down to crash near you.

You got behind one of the massive leafs behind Zeb and Rex and started shooting at the AT closest to you, only for it to angle its head down and start shooting at you once again. You ran forward and the three of you hid behind a lead individually, exchanging glances of reassurance before a loud buzzing noise echoed behind you. You turned and peeked around the leaf, only to witness the magnificent sight of Kanan Jarrus cutting through the AT’s legs, the large machine eventually stumbling to its knees until its head crashed down on a few stormtroopers.

“Kanan, glad you could join us!” Zeb shouted in delight as the Jedi ran up to the three of you with a smile.

“Hera said you’re bringing help?” The lasat asked with a hint of curiosity, turning on his foot and resuming his running with the three of you behind him.

“Maybe, maybe not!” The Jedi responded, earning a frown from you as you kept your pace up so you didn’t trail behind.

The four of you ran right into a small tunnel, following the rest of the rebels as a loud storm rumbled above you. Your pace didn’t falter as you heard the distant whistling of a ship landing and if anything it only made you run faster. Kanan directed you through the tunnel with his lightsaber, coming up to two tunnels.

“This way!” As he pointed which direction you should go to next, a death trooper emerged from the corner and started shooting at the four of you.

“The other way, the other way!” He panicked, running into the other tunnel with you trailing behind him. Your heart was pounding in your ears and you felt like you were going to pass out at any moment, but you held onto that tiny bit of energy you had left and brewed it into the determination to survive and be able to see Omani again.

After escaping the endless nightmare called the tunnels, you made it back to the base and scampered to the holo table hiding in between crates as the noise of the AT’s guns shot up at the shield.

“Kanan! You made it, what happened with your friend?” Hera asked in a stern tone. You, Zeb and Rex put your bodies against the crates and guarded the entrance, making sure no stormtroopers were coming in as Hera negotiated with Kanan.

“Oh don’t worry, I think he’s coming” Kanan replied.

After a few seconds, the team was moving and you had your blaster wrapped tightly in your hand, your finger hovering over the trigger. The generator behind you broke and the shield was taken down, resulting in incoming ties and imperial reinforcements.

A transport left the bay but was unfortunately shot down which made you stop dead in your tracks. Zeb stopped beside you and his ears drooped when he realised what might’ve happened.

“Omani!!” You cried, immediately dialling into your coms but only for a blaster to be pressed against your skull as a death trooper shoved you forward towards the rest of the group. You sobbed, sniffing and trying your hardest not to cry when all you could think about was the fact that your daughter might’ve been on that ship. Zeb held you close as you continued to cry whilst a blaster was pointed dangerously close to your face, the death trooper muttering something you couldn’t quite understand due to the audio of their helmet.

“And now, Captain Syndulla,” A voice spoke from the clouds of smoke, causing you to stop your crying and lean back with wide, shocked eyes. It couldn’t be.

“I will accept your formal surrender,” You stood frozen in your spot as Zeb shielded you protectively from the man who had just made his grand appearance.

“I don’t believe it” You whispered, but the death trooper noticed and bashed the edge of his blaster harshly against your skull.

“Or you will watch your friends perish, one by one, beginning with the Jedi” You backed away, reaching for your blaster as Kanan ignited his lightsaber and everyone else sheathed their weapon of choice. Painfully, you turned around and looked at the trooper standing behind you, pointing your blaster at his helmet and staring at him with a teary scowl.

“You already know my answer” Hera hissed with disgust glaring strongly at the Imperial dressed in white that you absolutely refused to look at no matter how much he threatened your friends. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be.

Just as you were about to shoot the trooper, a loud thunder strike boomed in the sky and only then did you remember the storm from earlier. You turned to look up at the storm and so did the death trooper, your blasters lowering slightly as you set eyes on the large black clouds hovering above all of you.

“Do you fear the storm, Master Jedi?” Thrawn smirked, his hands clasped behind his back as he approached Kanan who blindly stared at the sky with a worried face.

“Yeah. And you sgould too” The Jedi replied, right before a dangerously close lightning strike hit the ground and missed Thrawn by at least a meter.

“Hang onto something!” Kanan warned before unsheathing his lightsaber.

“What kind of Jedi devilry is this?” Thrawn glared up at the sky, his forearm shielding his gaze as the wind picked up and the thunder grew louder.

Barely seconds later, a blaring, deep voice exclaimed from the sky. “I am the Bendu”.

Two glowing orange eyes opened in the cloud and you found yourself dumbfounded by it. Never in your life had you set eyes on something as magnificently terrifying as this!

“What is that?” Zeb asked next to you as you took subtle steps away from the Chiss and his men. You looked to Hera as she looked to her partner. “Uh, Kanan?”.

“I told you my friend was coming” He exclaimed in a tone you couldn’t quite identify, it was a mixture of confidence but also fear.

“I bring death!” The thing called Bendu proclaimed.

“He’s nice!” You yelled sarcastically, frowning at Kanan who smiled very awkwardly. You looked over to see that two colossal lightning bolts had hit two of the AT’s, immediately destroying them and causing them to fall to the ground. Unlucky for the group, more lightning bolts started crashing their way towards you and without thinking twice, you bolted in the opposite direction with everyone following you. You skidded behind a crate, peeking behind it to look up at the gigantic monsterous being that was less than happy.

“Leave this place” don’t have to tell me twice, you thought with a frown, looking to your left to see a few death troopers hiding behind their own crates.

“I am the light, I am the dark” You found yourself watching Bendu with fascination but you were still fearing for your life, looking to Hera and Kanan who were looking just as surprised as you were.

“I am the Bendu!” The cloud bellowed before sending more lightning down to strike the death troopers who had been obliviously out in the open.

“You heard him! Make for the ship!” Kanan turned to all of you, his lips in a thin like as he gripped his lightsaber tightly. You all nodded, but just as you were about to run, you stopped as everyone else left for the ship. The thunder was so loud but you looked around despite the fact you might be killed right here and then. You watched the remaining death troopers yell to one another as they tried shooting at the cloud.

You stood in the middle of the platform, looking at the man dressed in white who was looking at the cloud as if he had no fear. You couldn’t tear your eyes away and eventually ended up being spotted by one of the death troopers. Aiming your blaster, You shot him down but drew the attention of Thrawn whilst you were at it.

You heard the voices of Kanan and Hera call out to you as they watched in horror when Thrawn turned around and finally spotted you. Your hands trembled violently as they gripped onto the blaster that was aimed right at Thrawn, your face a mask of fright as Thrawn’s eyes widened and his face morphed into a frown, a very angry frown.

The lightning didn’t distract either of you as your blaster kept its aim, level with your face but it was low enough for Thrawn to see all of it from a distance. He knew who you were, he didn’t see you in the group because you were hidden and his attention was mostly on Kanan but now, now he had a whole new mission, a whole new ambition for upcoming missions.

“(Y/N), hurry up we gotta go!” Zeb screamed your name but you didn’t move, you were frozen as Thrawn drew out his blaster and pointed it right at you. There was a fire in his eyes, a fire you had never seen when you used to know him. It alarmed you greatly.

“Leave without me! Omani’s gone, I’ve got nothing left to live for!” You yelled back through tears, looking back to the crew who were all staring at you with wide, agonising stares.

“No, I won’t leave you!” Kanan exclaimed, jumping off the ramp and running up to you whilst igniting his lightsaber, ready to deflect Thrawn’s blaster as he grabbed your arm and started dragging you to the ship. You started shooting aimlessly at Thrawn, screaming and crying as you pictured Omani in your mind. Thrawn didn’t shoot back and he didn’t move either, all your shots missed him and you chucked your blaster on the ground after giving up.

You ran with Kanan to the ship in tears, the ramp closing behind you as you collapsed onto the floor on your hands and knees. Your arms bent and you leaned your head onto your hands, your cries echoing around the ship as it flew into hyperspace.

Hera wrapped an arm around you and pulled you back, sitting with you on the ground and resting your head on her chest as you continued to let out your tears of pain and anger. The crew watched with sadness, wishing they could comfort you but they were ushered into their rooms by Kanan who stayed with you and Hera once everyone was away.

[sunflowergirl522]

Herc’ata Part 2

Pairing: Din Djarin x Short!Reader

Summary: While visiting Cara and Greef Din meets a new face, one Grogu becomes attached to immediately. (Bubbly enthusiastic person and grumpy serious person ship dynamic)

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any but if I need to put anything let me know!

Word Count: 2480

Herc’ata Masterlist

The first week that Din travels with you, you and Grogu were attached at the hip basically 24/7. And as much as he enjoyed not having to keep a close eye on the kid all the time he was starting to miss the old dynamic. Not all of it, just some things like the child falling asleep in his lap while flying through space and having conversations with him. And as much as Din is enjoying having an actual sleeping quarter and being able to sleep without aloof his armor on, he does miss Grogu crawling onto his chest in the middle of the night.

You never meant to steal the kid away from the mandalorian. Oftentimes you would leave the kid in the cockpit and go off to do something else, but the little womp rat would follow after you. Mando’s never outright said anything about missing the kid but you can tell because, well let's be real who wouldn’t, but also you often catch him turning his head as if to look or say something to him but the kid will be either in your lap on the other side of him or you catch him doing it when you’re entering the cockpit with the kid in your arms. So, you decided to come up with a plan.

Din’s quick to put his helmet on and stand up with his hand already reaching for his blaster upon hearing his door open. When he sees Grogu standing in the entrance he goes to him and crouches down.

“Hey there buddy, everything okay?” His head turns from looking to his left to face Din. He coos and reaches his arms up for Din to pick him up. Din can’t stop the smile from forming under his helmet as he lifts his kid up. “Look who’s come crawling back you little womp rat.” The amusement and playfulness in his voice causes you to giggle before you move back into your room. Din hears the noise and steps out into the hallway just in time to see your door slide shut.

The next morning you’re up before Mando for once and you sit in silence in the cockpit and lose yourself in your thoughts while looking out at the empty space through the glass. You almost don’t realize Mando sits next to you, the child in his arms. You watch in your peripheral vision as hands the kid a small metal ball and smile a little as you turn your attention back to space.

“His name is Grogu.” Your head snaps to look at the mandalorian next to you shocked that he’s spoken. He’s barely said a word to you the whole time you’ve been traveling together.

“Grogu?” You whisper it to yourself but the kid in front of you coos and looks at you before looking back at the ball in his hand. “Grogu.” You’re louder this time purposely trying to get his attention. The kid looks at you immediately and babbles something. You reach out and offer your finger to his free hand and he takes it. “The name suits you kid.” You then turn your attention to Mando to address him directly. “Why didn’t you tell me his name before?”

“Needed to make sure you were trustworthy enough.”

“Oh, well that makes sense.” You smile at him and nod your head as you speak. “So, do you have a name? There’s no way it’s Mando, I mean if it is no offense or anything but that is just Mandalorian shortened.”

“I have a name.” 

“Well, what is it?” The mandalorian next to you doesn’t speak and you fake a frown and cross your arms after a beat of silence. “So you’re back to not speaking to me?” Another beat of silence passes. “You’re such a tease.” You giggle a bit to yourself breaking your fake upset act. Din lets out a quiet breath of relief seeing your smile grace your face again. “Let’s get you fed baby.” You lift Grogu out of the mandalorians lap and walk out of the cockpit and Din feels his heart ache as he wishes that you were referring to him.

“I should have some stew still, let me see.” You place Grogu down on the small table in the kitchen and go to check the fridge. Once you find it you pull it out and put enough of it in a pot to warm up for the three of you. You’re sure that Mando will want some soon too. As you wait you sit across from Grogu and play with him by rolling the ball back and forth. You make sure to stir and check on the stew every so often. 

Din sits with his thoughts for a while in the cockpit. He keeps thinking back to how he felt when the frown took over your face, how he immediately started to think of ways to bring your bright smile back. His emotions feel like explosions when he’s around you, they’re magnified once he steps into the same room as you. He doesn’t understand that or how he can’t keep you from invading his thoughts. When he finally gets up he follows the smell of food to the kitchen.

“Damnit why do I keep putting them away so high up.” You’re mumbling to yourself as you’re climbing on top of the counter to grab bowls when Din makes it to the doorway. The sight almost makes him chuckle, if it weren’t for the fact that you lost your footing climbing down he probably would’ve. Din’s quick to come to the rescue as he swiftly catches you and rights you on your feet. The wooden bowls clatter around the two of yours feet and your hands clasp around his arms. Your eyes are wide and your mouth is agape.

“Are you okay?” Your head snaps up to look at Mando.

“I am thanks to you.” You close your eyes as you beam up at him and Din swears he’s having heart palpitations. His hands are still on your waist and your hands have moved themselves up to his shoulders. Din feels the warmth radiating from you as if you were a sun again and he can’t stop the smile that forms under his helmet.

“You should be more careful.” You can’t hear the smile in his voice, it sounds as grumpy as ever.

“Yeah but it is what it is. Thank you for catching me though.” You kneel down to pick up the bowls and Din moves to sit next to the kid to prevent his mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t. His eyes follow you as you fill a bowl up and set it in front of Grogu. “Do you want some stew?”

The gleam in your eyes causes him to blurt out a yes without thinking it through. He curses himself as you turn around to get him a bowl. Maybe you won’t notice him not eating it, he thinks to himself as you place the bowl in front of him. Maybe you’ll be so absorbed in your own and making sure Grogu eats that worrying about him won’t even come to mind. There’s no way he’s in your head as much as you’re in his.

You noticed that he wasn’t eating immediately. When you sat down you noticed that his bowl was still full and that he wasn’t making a move to eat it, he just sat there rigid as if he had to be prepared for a fight like he always sits. You busy yourself with your own stew though, not saying anything about it. You keep glancing at him through your peripheral however. Grogu babbles and you lift your head and smile at him. You grab a cloth and stand to lean over the table to wipe the remains of the stew from his mouth.

“Do you want some more?” Somehow you knew that with the slight tilt of his head he did. As you place the refilled bowl in front of him you address the mandalorian again. “Are you gonna eat anything?”

Dins eyes widen at your words realizing that he was wrong in thinking you wouldn’t notice. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Your nose scrunches up in confusion as you down and Din smiles unsure why. “Why, are you allergic to something in it or what?”

“It’s part of my creed to not let another living being see my face.”

“So, no one has ever seen it? Not even the kid?” 

“Well…” Din trails off losing himself to the thoughts of Mayfeld walking away after seeing it and taking it off when he found Grogu in his cell.

“Well what?”

“Normally if you were to see it I’d have to kill you. The kid has seen it and one other person due to certain circumstances.” You’re quiet for a minute deep in thought and Din is about to say something when you speak up again.

“So is this like a mandalorian thing or like a separate thing? Because I’ve met a mandalorian before who removed his helmet when he wanted.” Din doesn’t know how to answer you. With meeting Bo Katan and her group and seeing them all be able to remove it freely and meeting Boba who went who knows how long without his armor, he’s not sure anymore that it isn’t a separate thing.

“Other mandalorians have claimed that I’m part of a cult, but I grew up as a foundling so I’m figuring things out now.” Your mouth that was set in a line due to confusion turns up into a kind smile.

“Well if that’s the issue with eating then I can fix it easily! Is it still alright if Grogu sees you without it?” Mando just nods at you in response. You nod back before standing up and turning your chair around to the counter behind the table. You have to sit on one of your legs to eat comfortably due to it being a little higher than the table but it’s comfortable enough. You smile at the hiss of the helmet coming off and the two of you eat in silence, both with goofy smiles plastered on your faces the whole time. 

***

That night Din lays awake in his quarters because he’s stuck thinking about that moment. Grogu’s been asleep at his side for a while now and sometimes Din will move one of his hands from behind his head to rub his small green one. He’s learned that it helps keep Grogu from getting restless in his sleep. He’s in the middle of doing just that when he hears your door slide open and your hurried footsteps past his room. When he doesn’t hear you come back for what feels like an hour (it was really just a handful of minutes) he gets up, careful not to wake Grogu and puts just his helmet on before rushing out of his own room. He follows the direction your footsteps went until he hears quiet muffled sobs coming from the kitchen. 

Upon entering he sees you hunched over the table with your head buried in your arms. The world that he’s gotten used to being so bright being around you dulled as he listened to you cry. He walks slowly over to your figure wondering if he should bother you, ultimately though his urge to make you smile won.

“You okay?” The sudden voice causes you to jump up and twirl around, giving Din a good look at your tear streaked face and red eyes. 

“Mando, maker you scared me!” Your hand flies to your chest before you sit back down this time facing the mandalorian. “I didn’t wake you up did I?”

“No, I was still up. Are you alright?” You look up at him as he takes a small step towards you getting a good look at him. Seeing him in just the long sleeved shirt and pants he normally wears under the armor is alien to you, that doesn’t stop you from drinking it in though. 

“I’m fine, um I should head back to bed.” As you stand and go to walk past him he gently grabs your arm to stop you. The warmth that radiates into your skin from his own stops you in your tracks as you realize that he doesn’t have his gloves on. 

“What happened?” You look up at him and can’t help but to feel safe in his presence. It’s not the first time you have but this time something in his voice makes you feel like nothing will ever hurt you again. So you’re quick to throw your arms around his waist and bury your head into his chest. He’s stunned for a minute before carefully putting his own arms around you in an awkward hug which causes you to chuckle a little bit.

“I have nightmares every so often. Sometimes they’re worse than others, tonight was a fairly easy one though.” You speak into his chest letting a few stray tears come out.

“What are they about?” One of his hands starts to rub small circles into your back while the other brings you closer. After a beat of silence he speaks again. “You don’t have to say.”

“Most times they’re about Alderaan, sometimes it’s just the memory of when I had shown up to the graveyard when I was supposed to be there to visit my parents, other times it’s from their point of view. Obviously I don’t know what actually went through their heads but I just imagine the fear they must have felt. And then the times that they aren’t about Alderaan and I don’t know, I don’t ever remember the full thing only the lingering sound of screams, the color blue, and the pure terror that courses through my body long after I wake up.” You breathe out, feeling like a weight has been lifted at telling someone else about the nightmares. “Tonight it was just a memory but I didn’t even make it through the whole thing.” You’re both silent after you speak just holding each other close. 

When you part from him and look up you can’t stop from giggling at how his helmet is lopsided on his head. You reach up and fix it quickly before Mando can grab your hands to stop you. Once you have them back at your sides you intertwine and fiddle with your fingers while smiling up at him. One of his hands comes up and caresses the side of your face using his thumb to wipe away the stray tear that left your eye. You unconsciously lean into his hand and let out a yawn before he brings his helmeted head down and places where his forehead would be to yours.

“Let’s get you back to sleep Herc’ata.”

Taglist: @remmysbounty @fanficsforheartandsoul

[jbbuckybarnes]

Concerned Parents

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Desc: To get the child back after it was taken from you, Din has to remove the helmet to get into a place to find out where he was taken. He didn‘t think you‘d have to see him AND kiss him to keep the cover up. Warnings: flirting, sexual references, not proofread

„They won‘t let you into that place with your helmet on. It‘s like the Hutts but worse and more uptight.“ Fennec had explained about the shady looking hut you were all looking at. „I‘ll go in alone, you‘re my backup.“ Din looked at you, Fennec and Boba. Your eyes widened but you kept your mouth shut. You all wanted the baby, whatever it takes. Everyone agreed to his plan. Fennec and Boba would take long range, you‘d be close enough to barge in, just in case all hell broke loose. He left his visible armor in Boba‘s ship, put something on over his chest plate and hid his face under a cloth wrapped around his face, a thinner material around his eyes that he could look through. „Let‘s go.“

Fennec went on her position, Boba on the opposite hill. You followed a couple dozen steps behind Mando You saw him starting to remove his headwrap that he put on for around all of you. Out of respect you looked around instead, but you could stop letting your eyes wander past him, noticing brown fluffy hair. You wondered how it looked this good after all these hours under a helmet. You sat down under a lamp in earshot of the hut, noticing his deep voice talking to get into the place. A grunt of agreement came back. With a touch against your ear you started hearing out what was going on inside. „I heard you could lead me to any imperial ship.“ You finally made out his voice out of all of them. „You heard right. For the right price I‘ll be able to locate almost any ship.“ A scratchy voice answered. „I only have this amount of credits, but I know the ship has cargo worth more than two dozen times of it.“ You heard a grunt and a commotion. „You take me for someone taking upfront payment and leaving with the rest?“ He asked in a calmer voice. „I never break my part of a contract. I‘m a bounty hunter.“ „Oh?“ You sighed and got up, „You‘re an idiot. That‘s what you are.“ The weird tentacle guy at the entrance looked you up and down and then nodded to let you in. „We don‘t really like your kind here.“ „I‘ll be gone and back with more. I‘m not here for a bounty. I‘m here to get something that was stolen from me by a Moff.“ You saw the big man look him up and down hesitantly, „Which one?“ „Moff Gideon.“ Now the man looked angry. „Are you kidding me? That man is dead!“ „He isn‘t, he has recently appeared on Nevarro and took someone from me.“ „Someone you say?“ „My child. And I know it isn‘t dead.“ „You‘re making stuff up, my friend.“ The guards around the man tensed up. You came closer, throwing on your charm, „Heard you talking about Moff Gideon.“ On the table in front of the guy you put down the disc with the holo message. The whole message from the Nevarro base played off. „That‘s from about a week ago.“ You looked at the guy, still trying to respect Din‘s creed. „And who are you?“ He smirked at you, looking you up and down. „A concerned mother, one could say.“ You winked at him and sat down next to Din. „You a bounty hunter too?“ He looked between you both. „Nope. Actually used to be a bounty. Let‘s just say I‘m good at stealing.“ „Odd pair. Hm.“ He looked between you both again and you put your head on Din‘s shoulder and put your arm around him. „2500 credits up front for someone that wants to take on Gideon. That‘s...I don‘t have to tell you that is a low amount of credits, but I hate that guy as much as the next person. I‘ll help you, but you‘re gonna have to give me your code, because I will put a bounty on you if you don‘t pay up.“ The man didn‘t account for possible death, but you didn‘t mention that error of mind. „Kakiu? You know what to do.“ A small thin man nodded and ran off into a backroom. You felt Din tense up under your temple and gently went over his other shoulder with your hand. „Why would he keep your child alive?“ The man was nosy, but he had a valid question. „Our child has some specific mutation about his blood that they want to experiment with. Tried to hunt us for it for a while…well, and last week they got him. Now we‘re just trying to get him back any way we can.“ The man‘s face softened a bit, „Concerned parents, cute. But do you two really think you can breach a ship that big? That‘s wishful thinking. I‘d like to see you try tho.“ „You haven‘t seen him in his element. Never seen so many dead Imps in the vicinity of one man.“ Your head went up and you went to give him a kiss on the cheek, closing your eyes for the duration to not break his creed. „Kaiku will take a while, so why don‘t you tell me about it?“ The guy leaned back. „Which time? There were like, three.“ „The best one.“ „Well, last week it is, Gideon really wanted this kid, so he sent two ships full of Imps for us. Probably 120 or more. I shot some, a friend of us shot some, but this one probably took care of two thirds of them alone. He looks pretty good in a field of dead Stormtroopers with his blaster still sizzling.“ You felt his hand grab into your thigh and put your hand on his. „You took out quite a few yourself, don‘t sell yourself too short.“ You heard Din‘s warm voice next to you. You looked into your lap, „I really just want the kid back.“ You felt his lips on your temple, „I know, darling. I know.“ „Boss, Kaiku is having a bit of trouble.“ A guard came over and the guy in front of you grumbled and excused himself. You felt a thumb caress your hand and took the arm you had around him and snaked it around his arm to have it snug against you. „D‘you think the dude wants to secretly kill us?“ He chuckled. „I wouldn‘t be surprised, sadly.“ You mumbled back. „Didn‘t have to make me look this good in front of strangers.“ He whispered to you. „I didn‘t lie for a second, you know that damn well.“ You felt his other hand under your chin. „Looking down makes you look submissive around this folk, don‘t want that, we’re getting the kid back.“ You sighed in agreement and fluttered your eyes open slowly to see dark brown ones reflect back soft, concerned and determined. „I‘m sorry.“ You whispered, he knew what you meant. „It‘s okay. Don‘t beat yourself up over it.“ He offered a small smile. The guy came back after a while, „He‘ll be done in a while. Get yourself drinks and enjoy yourself, yeah?“ You nodded and dragged Din out of his seat towards the little bar. With your hands you ordered two small drinks while he put a respectful amount of distance between the both of you again. Not too long after you were in your thoughts sipping your drink. Not noticing the man on your left. „Hey sweetpea, you here often?“ A tipsy man of another species looked at you. „Nope.“ „Wanna change that?“ You felt an arm slinging around you from behind protectively. „Nope.“ You answered with a sweet smile and leaned against the broad chest behind you. „Aww, c‘mon.“ He didn‘t give up. Usually Din would have his scary demeanor in his beskar armor, but that wasn‘t his out card this time. „Does that man make you uncomfortable, dear?“ Your heart beat a little harder at the affectionate name. „He surely doesn‘t know how to treat me right.“ You sighed before unexpectedly being turned around. You let out a giggle and put your arms around his neck, „Now this guy is way better.“ He softened at your slightly tipsy behavior, not that he didn‘t enjoy the whole front of being partners in the first place. No. He absolutely didn‘t like that. At all. It was horrible. Super bad. „Oh, is he?“ The drunken guy was still commenting in. „Yeah.“ You whispered and Din didn‘t quite know which god put him into this situation, but suddenly his lips were on yours and he hated himself for liking it. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was just a front. He knew he just broke his creed for his child. He hated that he liked what his brain just decided to do. Someone cleared their throat next to you and you went apart, looking at the boss here. He handed you a data stick, „Gonna put it right on your ships control panel. Now I‘d like your code.“ Din obliged to the terms and gave him his code, you didn‘t know if it really was, but he gave one. You hoped it was just one of his old bounty‘s code. „See you again when you got the rest of that money.“ He nodded at the helmetless man and got a nod back. Not too long after you were dragged out of the hut by him. You helped him with his headwrap, not saying a word. He saw the guilt written on your face, but didn‘t say anything. „Say it.“ He whispered. „I hate that I broke your creed and liked it. I hate that I liked any of it.“ You said short and firm, as if you were scolding yourself. Silence. There was nothing else you could add. That‘s all you felt right now. „I feel the same.“ He answered after a while of you walking towards the rendezvous spot. „I mean, my god you look beautiful.“ The words burst out of your deepest soul and he came to a hold to look at you with his thin cloth for his eyes removed. „And I made you look.“ He sighed, „So please don‘t put this on yourself. You were just trying to help get Grogu.“ More silence between you for the way back. „I‘m sorry for flirting with you.“ You mumbled and looked away. You were just playing your part to de-escalate. „Ouch.“ He commented. „No, no, it‘s just. I. I don‘t know. I wasn‘t supposed to do that. It wasn‘t necessary for the mission.“ You stumbled over your words. „I‘m sorry that I kissed you.“ He answered and that felt like he just put a vibroblade through your heart. „I didn‘t mind. I think.“ You didn‘t even know what was and wasn‘t okay anymore. „I‘m sorry I‘d do it again.“ He chuckled and looked over to you as you walked. „Me too.“ You smiled back at his shimmering eyes and then back to where you were going. „I would do all of this again.“ He whispered with a sigh, more to himself than you. „For someone with a tin can on your head since your teen years you kiss pretty good.“ You grinned. No comment. „And you‘re kinda more fun when there isn‘t a visor between us. I can actually see your reaction. That‘s groundbreaking. I love it.“ You chuckled. „I have a lot to think through with my creed and what I just did.“ He added. „You‘ll make the right decision.“ You said calmly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it before letting it go as you stopped at the meeting point. „The decision might be led by what you just did to my mind.“ He laughed lowly, it sounded beautiful. You looked around for Boba and Fennec, nobody in sight, so you went to his back and kissed the sliver of exposed skin there. „Cyar‘ika!“ He said with a warning tone. You didn‘t know what that meant. „I‘m sorry, I like teasing when I know I have an effect.“ „Oh, have I awakened something in you?“ „If you didn‘t notice by the way I talked about you killing Imps, yes.“ „Well, good that we‘ll have to kill some more.“

— Time Jump to End of Chapter 16

You didn‘t think someone was still coming for Grogu from the Jedi Temple. Now you stood here with no child, but a dumb saber that Bo-Katan won‘t take. Seeing him broken, helmetless, exposed, but with all this armor and that saber. That reflected your feelings somehow. You knew this had to happen, but it broke a part of you anyway and made you vulnerable. You turned to look at Din, took his head into your hands and let his forehead gently fall against yours. „It‘s okay.“ You felt him shake and pull you close to his chest. „You‘re the only thing left.“ He whispered as the rest went ahead to meet Boba. „I won‘t leave you unless you ever want me to.“ You whispered back before he grabbed your face and put his desperation for home into a kiss. „We need a new ship.“ He murmured. „I might know how to steal one.“ You chuckled and caressed his cheek. „That‘s my girl.“ His thumb went over your lower lip. Where did he learn that? Was that allowed? „You look even better when you wear everything but the helmet.“ You bit your lip. „Is that your version of distraction?“ He huffed and you nodded with a chuckle. You liked flirting too much. With that you flew back to Nevarro and got a neat little ship, stolen by you and Greef. You made sure to fill it up with cozy things, reminders of what was and signs of hope for the future. For now you‘d stay a bit on Nevarro with it. He searched the whole thing for trackers after the horror of what happened to the crest, but after a couple days he finally settled in and removed his helmet around you. „Oh, hey good-looking man in beskar, are you here often?“ You grinned from your cot when he walked into the center room of the ship. „Depends on what you want from me.“ He chuckled and shook his head. „You look pretty tense, I‘m sure I could change that.“ Now he blushed at the possibilities crossing his mind. „I‘m intrigued, cyar‘ika.“ He smirked and came closer. „I was thinking cuddling, but judging by your face you have other plans.“ You laughed and stood up to knock against his chest plate. His armor was gone shortly after, „I love this.“ You scrunched your nose and hugged him close, you really did like this. He looked so human, so warm and huggable. His gloveless hands wandered down your back, stopping for a second, before wandering where they really wanted to go. You betted with yourself that he was secretly a grabby man after what happened in that hut. Turns out you were right. With a swift motion he hoisted you up to have you wrap your legs around him. „I like this,“ He mumbled and felt you smile against his neck. „Me too.“ Your hands wandered through his hair and you felt him relax even more. He sat down on your cot with you still wrapped around him. „You, um, have nice thighs.“ He pointed out sheepishly. „You know you can grab them anytime, right?“ You asked him. „Now I do.“ He huffed and gently caressed them before giving them a squeeze. „You can touch me all you want.“ You reassured him and felt him grab you by your hips so you untangled and he could fall back onto your cot with you on top of him. „That goes for you too, cyare.“ He pulled you closer by your chin. „What does that mean?“ „Beloved. Darling. Something like that.“ Now he was the one watching you get flustered and grinned. „Oh.“ You blinked a couple times, „You‘ve been saying that a lot.“ „Of course,“ he murmured and went through your hair. „Have you ever thought about settling on a planet?“ You mumbled, laying on his chest and looking up at him. „Once or twice. I think a lot of things would catch up to me.“ His voice hummed in his chest below you. „And creating a family?“ You whispered and saw him open one of his eyes. „I had one for a while, didn‘t I?“ You smiled at him and nodded. „You still have me. I wouldn‘t mind adopting another one.“ A chuckle escaped both of you. „Maybe one that isn‘t chased by the empire.“ He laughed lowly and went over your head gently. „We could make one too one day.“ You added as casual as possible and felt him tense under you. „Not like I have that many years left to do that.“ He pointed out with a huff. „Who said it would take many years?“ You whispered and crawled up on him to nuzzle into his neckline. „Where‘d you wanna settle?“ His arms snaked around you. „Preferably somewhere that isn‘t attacked every two years.“ Your muffled voice answered. „Now where‘s the fun in that, cyar‘ika?“ You kissed his neck and heard him hold his breath. „More than enough fun to have.“ You grabbed into his hair gently and felt his fingers grab into your hips. „I see.“ He murmured and closed his eyes again to enjoy your warmth. „Home is wherever you wanna go, my dear.“ He sighed and slowly dozed off.

___

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[elionwriter]

STAR WARS TOP TEN CHARACTERS AND RELATIONSHIPS (PART 3)

7) PADME AMIDALA

Usually when characters are "TOO GOOD" they end up being unrealistic and unlikable. NOT HER! A queen by election, an uncompromising senator, a great speaker, a true defender of democracy, a politician that fights in the front lines if necessary and definitely the one true fashionista of the Galaxy. Padme, both in stile and principals, reflects all the good and opulence of the High Republic, an age of stability, greatness and awareness in which debate was a preferable weapon to actual weapons even though she had no problems handling a blaster. Even though we are presented with many great politicians throughout the series no one is quite as resourceful or capable as her. Not even the great Bail Organa. She manages to gain and hold the respect of most senators, even her rivals, despite her young age; she brokers seemingly impossible negotiations, at one point almost bringing the Clone Wars at an end via a peace treaty with the Separatist Alliance; with a single speech she stops the production of new clone batches saving the Republic from bankruptcy. And yet, despite all this wisdom and capacity her greatest asset is her pure and kind heart. It's truly heartbreaking that she of all people found herself in such a painful and controversial relationship. Her love for Anakin is ultimately her downfall as she realizes too late how far gone he is. If anyone ever died of heartbreak is her. It seems a contradiction that someone so strong could abandon herself to sadness in such a manner and yet this single weakness makes her all the more precious, pure and beautiful. With her death all the goodness of that age is burried too leaving the Galaxy colder, dimmer and scarier.

8) HERA SYNDULLA & SABINE WREN

While the entire Specter crew is worthy of the spot, I want to celebrate its queens. I already called Ashoka Togruta pride, but for a species whose females are usually objectified and reduced to cantina dancers, Hera really elevates Twi'leks to the next level. Daughter of a famous and respected leader, Hera inherits that leadership and creates her own rag-tag team to guide the Galaxy towards insurgency against the Empire. It's always a brave decision to stand up against power and tyranny but to do so when one doesn't even know if they're alone in that effort is a titanic feat. Hera leaded the Spectres before the rebel alliance was even formed and had a pivotal role in their operations both as a strategist and an A class pilot. Acting as the mother of the crew she is one of the main reasons the other characters of her team remained alive and bloomed to their full potential. If it wasn't for her, Ezra Bridger wouldn't have joined the fray. Also, she manages to make Han Solo admit that the Ghost is better than the Falcon. Can one blame Kanan for falling head over heels in love with her? And Sabine, well...she is proof that one can be level-headed and hot-headed at the same time. A sassy, trigger-happy, genius, teen Mandalorian with a talent for street art. If you don't love her for this alone then it's definitely all her colors and wicked style that are gonna knock it out of the park. Not only does she change hair-cut and dye each season of "Star Wars: Rebels" she gives her armour a different paint-job too! While Din Djarin's armour is probably the most beautiful and impressive structure and defence wise, Sabine turned hers into a proper masterpiece. Her artistic merits are so good that even art expert Grand Admiral Thrawn wants to collect some of her works. At one point, she wields the dark sabre and manages to unite Mandalorian clans against the Empire's puppet leader. The fact that she had been accepted as a leader by her people but still decided to take a step back and pass the power to older and wiser Bo-katan Kryze is truly a point in her favour. Unforgettable is her relationship with Ezra, built on camaraderie, mutual trust and frienship. Wherever Ezra has ended up Sabine will keep searching for him until he is safely back home.

9) CAPTAIN REX AND THE 501

The prequel trilogy doesn't really tell us much about the clones and what happened during the years of their faithful service to the Republic before the tragic events of order 66 unfold. Thank goodness a lot of additional material got that covered! (Anyone watching the Bad Batch?!) All clones should be celebrated and mourned but no clone captured the heart more that Cpt./Commander Rex along with all the 501st. legion. The faithful and elite group of soldiers led by Anakin Skywalker and Ashoka has proven itself both in and out of the battlefield. Not only did this squad survive the treacherous General Krell, they managed to win the battle he was actively trying to sabotage, get a full confession out of him and imprison him. Not only this, it was one of the squad members, Fives, that almost uncovered the full plot against the Jedi order designed by Chancellor Palpatine. While all clones regarded each other as brothers there was a special bond that tied the men of this group and its leaders. Rex went to extensive lengths to retrieve his lost companion Echo, a move that Anakin supported; Fives ran to Rex and Anakin to reveal his discoveries and had they all not been interrupted, even in his frenzied state, the two seemed willing to listen to his side of the story. There was a solid complicity and trust between Anakin and his men to the point that he revealed to Rex his secret relationship with Padme (Something he didn't openly speak of even with Obi-Wan and Ashoka) and told him of her pregnancy. In exchange, Rex always trusted his general even when he got them all in the most dangerous and unorthodox situations, looking up to him and regarding him as the best of the Jedi even years after the war had ended (when complimenting Kanan's skills he purposefully underlines that he's still not as good as Skywalker). But the most heartwarming instance of all is when Rex and the 501 greet Ashoka, banished from the Jedi order and the military, with painted helmets to remind of her markings still referring to her as Commander. Rex goes always above and beyond his duty, aiding Ashoka and the rebellion years after being dismissed from service. Even as an old timer, he proves that the new Stormtroopers have nothing on him and that he is truly the ultimate soldier and friend. I only wish he could have met Luke, considering he was one of the very few who knew Anakin was expecting a child and he never realised that Anakin hadn't died at the end of the war but had become Darth Vader.

[peacefaithed]

❛  what  do  you  even  do  around  here ,  senator Amidala ?  ❜ - Rex

"Currently? A lot of this." Padmé gestured at a pile of datapads on her desk. The impressive tower had grown this past week and no matter how much longer she stayed to work it off each evening, the amount didn't seem to reduce at all. "I started an attempt to open negotiations with Lloya 5. It's a small planet that has been having lots of trouble with pirates. Since it's a mid rim planet, the paperwork is rather daunting." Even as a Senator, Padmé was not a fan of the bureaucracy, though she understood it was a necessary evil. There had to be an orderly way to handle things. She just wished it wouldn't be so tedious.

It had started to take a toll on her. Without her wonderful handmaidens, Padmé would not look this impeccable. She barely slept and had little appetite, but she managed to maintain an air of serenity because of the support she had. Image was important in politics, something she had learned during her time as Queen. The impressive, beautiful outfits had not only been symbolic and full of references to Naboo's culture and religion, but had also been meant for intimidation.

She offered Rex a smile. "I hope when I'll be deployed to meet with the ruler, you will be assigned as my entourage." And hopefully it wouldn't end like last time, where Padmé almost got the poor Captain killed because instead of peaceful negotiations, they had been met with instant blaster fire.

[myownworstenemyyy]

Congrats on your milestone!!!🎉🎉🎉I really have loved getting to see your blog grow! Since this is a celebration, the only thing I can offer is an idea that has been swimming in my head since forever. AND I know if you do it you will do it justice and make it amazing with your lovely brain. So with that being said: 🎶 + Din + Wicked Game (I've been obsessed with James Vincent McMorrow's version, but all of them are *chef's kiss*) Love you, your face, and your writing😘💖 CONGRATS AGAIN!!! 🎉✨😊

thanks so much, doll! and omg this SONG 😩👌 i never knew how badly i needed it in my life lol i hope you like the fic it inspired me to write (i apologize for any pain this one may cause 😅). thanks for requesting! 💜 

warnings: mentions of blood/injury ; death (descriptions of dying) ; Angst™; back at it again with a cliché last line ; idk how to refer to Greef Karga so I call him Greef here, please don’t @/ me

ship: Din Djarin x Reader

masterlist | tag lists

Wicked Game

Din always knew his life would be a short one—that Mandalorians don’t exactly have the luxury of growing old and living a full life. He accepted the fate his creed bestowed upon him long ago, but he never realized how painful it would be.

Not physically—in fact, he can hardly feel anything as he lies against the giant slab of duracrete in what’s left of the cantina. Right now, his pain cuts far deeper than physical. He feels it in his very bones, this soulful ache for something that he knows will never be. 

Among the fallen rubble and blaster fire, he barely registers a light pressure on his hand, his fingers beginning to go numb. Your face—stained with soot and dried blood—comes into view and it takes everything in him not to sob out your name, knowing it may be the last time he has the honor of voicing such a sweet sound. 

“I’m here, Din. I’m not gonna leave you. I...I know you’re in pain, but do you think you have the strength to move?” you ask in a desperate voice, your eyes wide and glossy—either from the smoke in the air or from your own emotions getting the best of you, he’s not sure.

“C-cyar’ika,” he whispers, but a thick warmth gets caught in his throat and he falls into a coughing fit, the sharp taste of iron confirming what he already knew to be true. 

Blood is filling his lungs and he knows he doesn’t have much time left. 

“Don’t try to speak. Save your energy,” you rush out, swallowing hard and nodding your head as if you’re answering for him. You look over to Cara and Greef as they watch your exchange with matching, sorrowful expressions. 

“We have to carry him out, he can’t move,” you reach for the child standing at Din’s feet, the little one completely focused on the man who’s cared for and protected him with his own life. Din’s fingers twitch with a longing to comfort the little one, but it’s no use, the remnants of his strength waning by the second. 

Cara hesitates before moving forward, presumably to help lift Din to his feet and drag him to safety within the tunnels beneath them. But Din finds the will to subtly shake his head, signaling her to stop. It’s too late, he thinks to himself. Too much time has passed since Moff Gideon’s last assault and Din knows that it won’t be long before they’re under fire again. 

You look down at Din, your brows knitted together in confusion and anxiety, the child reaching out to him. “Y-you have to...go on without me. P-protect the child,” he croaks out, his breaths shallow and lungs burning with every intake of air. 

“No. I told you, I’m not leav–” you start to protest, hugging the child close to your chest when it makes a loud whimpering sound. Your bottom lip trembles and you pull it between your teeth. 

“The IG unit can stay with him, but we need to get the child out of here now,” Greef places a hand on your shoulder, but his eyes remain on the T of Din’s visor as he seems to say, I’ll make sure they’re safe.

The aforementioned droid comes into view and Din’s vision starts to blur, his ears ringing with a deafening pitch. The following moments of your exchange with Greef and Cara are difficult to comprehend as Din starts to pass out, but then he feels your hand in his again and he forces himself to stay awake. 

You don’t say anything as you lift his gloved hand to your cheek, tears streaming down your face. Oh, how he longs to feel your soft skin against his calloused hands. And though you can’t see his face because of the helmet covering his features, Din still tries to give you a reassuring smile.

“I’ll be r-right...behind you,” he lies through his teeth, a chill wracking his body. It won’t be much longer before he meets his Maker, but he doesn’t want you to have to witness his end.

He regrets a lot of things he’s done in his, what one might consider, wicked life—the lives he’s taken and the people he couldn’t save remaining at the forefront of his mind. But if he can spare you this...this trauma of watching him take his final breath, then he’ll do everything in his power to protect you from it.

You lean forward and press a kiss to the top of his helmet, right where his forehead would be, before resting your own against the cool metal. A Keldabe kiss. His chest aches beyond any physical means and it’s only then that he notices the moisture on his cheeks, spilling from his eyes. 

I’m so sorry, cyar’ika, if only we had more time, he wishes he could say, but he can barely hold his head up, let alone speak. The high pitch of the child’s cry reaches his ears and Din opens his eyes to find the little one touching the side of his helmet. Goodbye, my child, Din thinks as he finds the strength to reach up and lightly stroke behind the child’s ear one last time.

He hears you sniffle before whispering, “I love you,” your voice breaking. He can only just make out the gentle squeeze of your hand around his before you reluctantly let go as Cara ushers you away. 

Everything in existence seems to fade away after that, like you were his life force and now that you’re gone, he can’t hang on any longer. His breaths become uneven as fluid fills his lungs. At his side, IG-11 injects something into Din’s arm, but he doesn’t understand what the droid is saying—something along the lines of help with the pain and deep sleep.   

And as he becomes void of all senses but the memory of your hand in his, he embraces Death like an old friend.

Permanent tag list: @bestintheparsec @haildoodles @mandoandyodito @javier-djarin @readsalot73 @agentpike @aeryntheofficial @wickedfrsgrl @mrsparknuts @scarlettwitcher @buckysalefty @rosamedina92 @maxiarapamaya @promiscuoussatan @ah-callie @bluemoon-glen @pablopascal @littlemissthistle @waywardodysseys @thick-dick-din-daddy-djarin @thewaythisis @phoenixhalliwell @lovingtheway @petertingless @hiscyarika @pascalisthepunkest @mrpascals @sergeantbannerbarnes @mrschiltoncat @cyaredindjarin @destucky45 @getinthepoolkeanu @petrelliforcongress @gooddaykate @mistermiraclee @roxypeanut @watsonwise @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @tiffdawg @floweronthegrave @cryptkeepersoul @soldade @jaime1110 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @themandjalorian @longitud-de-onda @walkerchick007 @shinyfranci @arrowswithwifi @24kgolden @triggerhappyflyboyy @blushingwueen @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @thinemineours @and-i-swear-we-are-infinte @ham4arrow @thisainttheway @katialvi @kristalhi @kimljn @mabelleen @auty-ren @frietiemelon @fanfiction-trashpile @sinnamon-bun @larakasser @miraelles @lackofhonor @jerusomeeno @liadamerondjarin @engineeredfuture @engineeredfiction @pascalesque @carringtonhill @mstgsmy @hayley-the-comet @the-wishmonger @clydesducktape @autumnleaves1991-blog

Character tag: @maxlorrd @no-droids-allowed @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @opheliaelysia @starlight-starwrites @lellaren-uodo-rian @anomiatartle @nerd-without-a-cause

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 8

Day 8 of Whumptober, part 8 of the oof!au. Not sure how today is going to work because.... tumblr is formatting everything wrong and this is very long. I didn’t want to post over on ao3 until the whole thing was complete, but I might have to for tomorrow (which is over 5k for the “rescue” prompt and that’s SO LONG). ANYWAY, maybe they’ll fix whatever they broke today.

General info: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Past/eventual Codywan. One-sided Vaderwan. Eventual happy(ish) ending. Please read the warnings.

WARNINGS: Mind control trauma, mind controlled into hurting people, references to past torture and past non-con, brain trauma, references to suicide, off-screen loss of a limb.

No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS

Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

The Kaminoans bred Cody for war. They’d forged him into a weapon and then they trained him, taught him how to fight and how to win. He’d been stubborn and determined, even among his brothers, and they’d valued those qualities. He learned strategy. How to handle himself. How to handle his men. How to handle a war.

And he’d excelled at it. His men had taken on armies and won. They’d come within a breath of winning a galactic war and had that victory soured. He’d lost a fight he’d never had a chance to prepare for, lost everything, all at once.

He didn’t know, exactly, what had happened on Utapau. One moment his body had listened to him and the next it just… hadn’t. It felt like dreaming, in a way. Or a nightmare. He could see the world. He could feel the things his body touched. He could hear his own voice.

But he couldn’t control any of it, could not stop himself from ordering his General shot down, no matter how he fought and struggled and--

And the most he could do, raging inside his own head, was file a form stating that General Kenobi had died, falling into the waste-water pit. After all, no nat-born would have been able to survive that fall.

Not according to the training he’d received on Kamino. 

He’d watched his hand hesitate, on Utapau, watched his fingers twitch a different direction on the pad, and fought. In the end, the report went out that Obi-Wan had died. And Cody, scratching and tearing at the walls inside his own head, counted that as a victory, refusing even to allow himself to consider the alternative, in case the thing that had stolen his body heard the thoughts, somehow.

#

Nothing much else felt like a victory for years. He lost track of time. Lost track of himself. He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t stop the things his body did. He killed people, people begging for their lives. Children. 

Jedi.

People he’d fought beside.

His friends.

He couldn’t stop it. 

It was a relief, of a sorts, when Vader - the man who had been Anakin Skywalker - reassigned him to Mustafar. There were no people to kill on Mustafar. In fact, there was little to do. He and his brothers just… lived there. It was strange to see so many members of the 212th.

They’d kept them apart, after they were trapped inside their own heads. Split up battalions and companies. Put them in blank white helmets that made it impossible to know the man standing beside you.

But on Mustafar, he found his men. Not many of them. Nothing close to their full complement. He knew many of them had died in pointless battles and… in other ways. He walked by troopers slumped sideways in their bunks, a blaster still in their hands. Maintenance accidents, the forms said, when they were filed.

He’d watched troopers step into the line of friendly fire, or walk off the edge of tall paths, plunging hundreds of feet with no attempt to stop themselves. 

On Mustafar, it jarred something in his mind each time he looked over and recognized one of his men, memories clattering through his head of battles fought together, victories hard won.

It was a constant reminder that he’d failed them. He’d been their Commander. He was supposed to look after them. But-- But he couldn’t. Couldn’t do anything to help them, even as Vader put him into position as supervisor of the base.

Cody’s body ran the base, in Vader’s absence. Designed security and set up duty rosters for his brothers. He wondered, sometimes, why Vader hadn’t put Rex in such a position. He wondered if, perhaps, Rex had not died, when they were all trapped inside their minds, and wished, more than anything, that he’d been that lucky.

He and his brothers slept and ate and trained, for, as near as Cody could determine, no reason.

And then Vader found Obi-Wan.

And Cody, who had gotten too tired to fight, somewhere in the last three years, stirred inside his head and started screaming, again.

#

The Kaminoans had bred Cody to make war. He warred with the thing that lived in his head, the thing that used his voice and his body, the thing that wasn’t him. He fought every order Skywalker gave him, after the bounty hunters dragged Obi-Wan from their ship and dropped him on the ground. 

It felt like throwing himself at the side of a wall, over and over and over again. Trying to break through stone with nothing but his will alone. But he found ways. Little things he could do. Muscle movements, trained into his memory, below whatever level the control operated.

He could twitch a finger, if he focused. The code he’d created with Obi-Wan was as automatic as speech, once upon a time. Wrestling enough control of his body to communicate anything sensible felt almost impossible.

But Cody hadn’t been trained to give up. And he’d never learned how. He managed, watching Skywalker wreak his terrible atrocities across Obi-Wan’s body, to tear and pull at the wall. To haul on it, determined that he should either break it or force it to finally break him utterly, to grant him death, if nothing else.

And, when he wasn’t throwing himself at the wall inside his head, he planned. He couldn’t stop his body from carrying out minor tasks. Couldn’t stop it. But he could turn his thoughts elsewhere. He could turn all his focus onto exactly what he’d do, when he got control of himself back.

Skywalker had set him up as commanding officer. Cody built plans and refined them and waited.

And he managed, at least, to say “no,” when Skywalker made him hurt Obi-Wan, made him--

Cody remembered, in stunning detail, the very first time he’d wanted to kiss Obi-Wan. They’d been standing on the edge of a cliff on Trillol II, looking out across a sea that was, as far as he could see, endless. The wind rising off it had buffeted them both. Purple sea birds spun through the air above them.

There had been Separatist ships out on the water, far away but coming closer. The ships were the reason they were up on that bluff, but Cody had forgotten to care about them, for a moment, looking across at Obi-Wan, his hair tangling in the wind, the water close to the shore the exact color of his eyes, and--

And Cody had wanted to kiss him, then. Suddenly and achingly. He hadn’t. They needed to get back to the lines and - and it wouldn’t have been appropriate, anyway, to kiss his commanding officer. His General. But Obi-Wan had blinked, stopped in the middle of talking, and looked over at him, eyes getting wider, and--

Cody had assumed, really, that Obi-Wan knew exactly how he felt from the time they stood on that cliff. They hadn’t done anything about it. The middle of a war was hardly the place and their ranks stood between them, and--and they just hadn’t. But they’d both known. 

And then Skywalker ordered him to - to beat Obi-Wan, to hold him down and rape him and-- Cody wished, more than anything, beating at the inside of his own head, trying to tear himself to pieces, if just to make the nightmare stop - that Obi-Wan would just - just give Skywalker what he wanted, spare himself--

Cody knew he wouldn’t. Even felt a swell of fierce pride that Obi-Wan wouldn’t allow Skywalker to win, but it was a sour, awful kind of resistance. Cody would never be able to unfeel the way Obi-Wan had struggled, the way he’d flinched and tried to get away, shaking all over, shocky. Never be able to unhear the crack in his voice, the way he’d tried to get Cody to stop, and Force, all Cody had wanted to do was stop, make it stop, never--

He used to dream about kissing Obi-Wan, out under a wide-open sky, slow and sweet. He used to imagine Obi-Wan smiling against his mouth, eyes crinkling in the corners with easy joy. He used to imagine what it might be like to do more than that, to press together skin to skin, to find out how their bodies might fit together, all imaginings, because Cody had never touched anyone that way, never wanted to touch anyone but Obi-Wan, and--

Cody was light-headed by the time it was over. That had been happening more and more often. The harder he fought, the worse he felt afterwards. His head hurt, terribly, and his vision swam. He tasted something strange, down the back of his throat. Salty. Too thin to be blood. 

Skywalker told him to go get cleaned up and he could not resist the order, but he swayed sideways, in the hall, shoulder bumping into the wall, and for a moment, for just a moment, he managed to reach for his blaster.

He had it halfway to his head - because he’d never do that again, never again, never - before the thing in his head took over again.

It passed, the fleeting taste of control, but it made him redouble his efforts. It could be done. He could talk to Obi-Wan, at least a little. He could make himself move, if he just fought hard enough. 

No one had ever accused Cody of not fighting hard enough.

#

Cody fought, desperately as Skywalker got Obi-Wan to kneel, got him to beg, and-- and Cody knew his General. He’d always known what it would take to break Obi-Wan. Known it would be his brothers on the floor, finding what peace they could in death. 

They’d - they’d all hurt Obi-Wan. Sometimes directly. Betrayed him. Tried to kill him. Cody had thrashed inside his head on Utapau, as they tried to murder their General, and he hadn’t been strong enough to fight it.

None of them had. They’d been weak, when Obi-Wan needed them, weak over and over again, and--

And he still fell to his knees for them. Cody had watched him take abuse after abuse, every violation Skywalker could come up with. Watched him bounce back with a smirk and a sharp comment, indomitable.

Obi-Wan only begged for them. For their lives. After they’d failed him and hurt him and--and watched. After Cody had - had taken everything from him, violated him, ruined whatever they might have had, once, and it didn’t matter that Obi-Wan had said it wasn’t him, it--

Cody should have been stronger. Fought harder. He should have been able to stop himself from pulling the trigger, should have been able to turn the blaster on Skywalker, should have never left Obi-Wan in a position where he had to beg, where he had to let Skywalker fist fingers in his hair and abuse him again, making him choke, and--

Something salty ran down Cody’s throat. He could feel hot wetness in his ears, moving down the side of his neck. 

They were supposed to look after each other. He was supposed to protect his General, his Obi-Wan, but--

But more of his brothers were pulling Obi-Wan out of the room, Obi-Wan calling out for him, concern in his voice, even still. And, somewhere in Cody’s head, something gave in a hot, dizzying rush.

#

Cody swayed on his feet and then went to one knee, panting, breath ragged and heart beating off-rhythm. He said, “Ah,” and the shock of hearing something he intended to come out of his mouth slipping free cut through the dizziness in his head like a vibroblade through butter.

Liquid flooded his mouth and he spat it out, because it tasted awful. He expected, vaguely, for it to be blood. It was clear. Mostly. Like saliva, tinged pink. There was blood, too, dripping down from his face. His thoughts were a tangled, confusing jumble. He couldn’t make them stay still.

His head hurt. His vision swam in front of him, the room getting blurry. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and nausea punched up through him. He retched, which only made his head hurt worse, and decided to accept the state of his vision, for the moment.

Something was, obviously, very wrong with him.

He barked a sharp laugh. The sound buzzed in his ears, oddly. Something had been very wrong with him for a long time. Maybe something was right with him, finally. He pushed to his feet, the world reeling around, and almost fell when he took a step.

He gritted his teeth, striking out for the door. He needed to get to Obi-Wan. But that might, he realized, require a trip to the medbay first. If he made it that far. His chest hurt, sudden and sharp, a deep, terrible kind of pain.

He ignored it, pushing past several of his brothers, who were still standing, stock still, expressions frozen, eyes red, blood under their noses and by their ears. “With me,” he ordered them, voice steady and his, grabbing Bones and dragging him into motion, forcing them all to move, taking another step and another. 

Obi-Wan had begged, for them. For him. After everything. 

Cody dragged in a breath and then another, forcing his brothers onward, his legs holding him up all the way to the medbay, where they tried to fall out from under him. Obi-Wan had begged. For him. Fought for him. After all he’d done. All his failures. 

Cody wasn’t going to fail him again. Ever. He grabbed a droid, panting, and slurred, as it blustered in confusion, “Lord Vader. Wants. Me alive. And them.” They had orders to keep him alive, he knew. Skywalker wanted him there to keep hurting Obi-Wan. And they wouldn’t question his orders about the rest of his brothers. 

Skywalker had, after all, left him with so many responsibilities.

Maybe, he thought, swaying, he could use that to his advantage. He was going to need every advantage he could get, to bring this entire place down on Skywalker’s head. All of the plans he’d nurtured over the past months were already screaming in his head, one after another.

And then the blackness came up and swallowed him.

#

Cody woke up staring at the ceiling in the medbay. For a jerking, awful moment he thought he couldn’t move, thought he was trapped in his own head again, and he lurched up. It was shocking to have his body respond to what he wanted it to do.

Chimes started, all around him. Medical sensors. He blinked, disoriented, looking down at the little wires coming off of his body, his head and chest. There was an I.V. in his arm. He shuddered, reaching for the sensors on his head and pulling them off of his skin, even as a droid hurried up.

“You are not recovered,” it said. 

He dropped the sensors and stood, reveling in the ability to control his body, to make his legs take his weight, even if he still felt dizzy and unbalanced. He was… in the area of the medbay designated for trooper use. Two of his brothers lay in the beds beside him, similarly wired up. Cody frowned at them. They’d both been in the room when he’d broken the thing in his head. “I’m recovered enough,” he said, looking around for his blacks and his blaster.

He felt… very still, inside. Battlefield calm. He’d taken enemy strongholds before. And, this one, he had played a role in designing. His mouth twitched up in the corners. Skywalker, for whatever reason - to hurt Obi-Wan - had left Cody in charge of ever so much. He was going to pay for that mistake.

“2224,” the droid protested, as Cody took a moment to slide the I.V. free, putting pressure over the puncture. “You do not understand. You suffered a major malfunction, along with several other troopers. You must--”

“What kind of malfunction?” he asked, grabbing a pair of neatly folded blacks and pulling a shirt on. “How many others? These two?”

The droid made a little whirring sound. Cody wondered if it were surprised. Wondered if he’d need to destroy it, before it raised some kind of alarm. He was not, he recognized, acting in an approved manner. 

The droid said, after a moment, apparently writing his change in behavior off as some organic nonsense, “A massive aneurysm in your frontal lobe. Six of you were affected.” Cody took that information in, yanking his pants up his legs. Six of his brothers. He’d bet all the credits in the galaxy they’d been in Vader’s little torture chamber. That they’d watched Obi-Wan beg for their lives. That it had… snapped something in them, too. “These two survived.”

Their General was going through hell. And he’d put himself through worse for them. He--

“Only these two?” he asked, and there was his armor, right where he’d known it would be, ready for him to step back into, to make himself a cog in the Empire’s awful machine once more. He was never going to wear it again, once he got Obi-Wan and his brothers out of here.

“Yes,” the droid said, “2224, you are not recovered,” it continued, as Cody buckled his armor into place. 

“I’m ready to return to duty,” he said, a phrase he’d heard himself utter against his will, so many times over the last three years. Duty - Skywalker’s twisted idea of duty - had been all that mattered. 

He’d never forgotten where his duty actually lay. And he finally - finally - had a chance to do all the things he’d wanted to do for the last three years. He snapped his chest piece into place and gripped his blaster, the grip cool and familiar against his palm, full of sweet promise and potential.

He knew, based on reports read while he’d been trapped in his head, that a blaster bolt was unlikely to kill Skywalker. Not while he was in that suit. It had all kinds of defenses and protections.  People had shot him before, apparently. It hadn’t even slowed him down. He’d just carved them to pieces with a red lightsaber.

As much as Cody liked the thought, walking up to him, placing the barrel against his head, and pulling the trigger probably wouldn’t do anything. That was fine. Cody knew how to work around an enemy’s defenses. He’d had time to plan. He’d requisitioned an EMP device weeks ago, managing that much control. He was going to bring this entire base down on Skywalker. Make him pay for everything he’d done.

“Wake them up,” he told the droid, working on his vambraces, the movements close to automatic. 

“I’m not sure they’re--”

“Wake them up,” Cody repeated, flat and hard, and the droid made an unhappy little noise, but complied. Cody knew his brothers. Knew they’d want to be awake for what was to come. It was a relief, he found, that Bones had been one of the ones to fight his way free. He shot the droid in its central processor, a moment later, unable to risk the security breach it represented.

He was in charge of reporting all lost materiels and investigating the reasons for their loss. One droid going missing would be very easy to explain. 

And Cody was going to need a medic he trusted. He watched his brothers struggle their way awake, watched the horror and disgust roll over their expressions as memory settled and they regained control of their own faces.

Bones curled sideways, got his head over the side of the bed, and retched. Crys jerked to sitting, looked around, and gasped, “Kriffing--Commander? Is this--is this another dream?”

“No,” Cody said, flat and hard, nothing soft left in him. “You’re awake. We’re awake.”

Bone looked up, wiping his mouth, eyes wide and horrified. He asked, “What are we going to do?”

And Cody told them. Told them everything, watching their eyes get wider as determination settled across their features. He looked at Bones when he finished, and said, “Not all of us survived breaking free. And too many of us are still controlled.”

Bones nodded, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “You want full autopsies?” he asked, and Cody could see them falling into their jobs, the tasks in front of them. Grabbing onto something to focus on, the same as he was. 

As long as there was something to do, a next step to take, he didn’t have to think about what he’d done. He didn’t have to remember Obi-Wan’s eyes, looking up at him, or the sound of his voice, begging, or--

Something in their brains was controlling them. Somehow. He didn’t know what it was, but he intended to find out. Victory could only be obtained once you knew your enemy, after all. “Start with the brain,” Cody said, gut cold and heart beating steadily. “I want a full report by the time I get back. Crys, you’re with me.”

Crys nodded, swinging off the bed and pulling on armor. It took only moments before they were moving out of the trooper’s area, into the medbay proper and Cody jerked to a halt, because--because Obi-Wan was floating in one of the base’s few bacta tanks. His hair floated in the fluid, longer than he’d ever liked it to be. There were healing wounds, all across his skin. And-- and his left arm ended, abruptly, above the elbow. Skywalker had, had started carving pieces off of him, and--

Cody took a halting step towards the tank, rasping out, “Force.”

“Sir,” Crys said, his voice cracking, and Cody swallowed the bile that rose up into his mouth. They’d laid in the medbay. They’d been so weak, he’d allowed Obi-Wan to be subjected to - to whatever Skywalker had done to him. “Sir, we’re really going to do this, aren’t we? Kill him? Get the General out of here?”

Cody hands curled into fists. He stared at Obi-Wan, floating in the bacta, and he could still hear, in his head, the way Obi-Wan had begged for their lives. His life. He turned away, shoulders a rigid line, and said, “Yes. We are.”

He had some time to implement his plan, evidently. He could not move, not with Obi-Wan floating in the bacta, recovering from injuries that hurt to even imagine. He needed to take stock. To find out how many of his brothers Skywalker had murdered while he’d been unconscious. To learn how Skywalker was making them dance to his whims, and to find a better way to free his brothers than waiting for them to give themselves an aneurysm.

And then he needed to get Obi-Wan out of this place, make him safe. And he needed, so badly he could almost taste it, to put Skywalker out of his misery. He’d die. One way or the other. For everything he’d done.

The Kaminoans had bred Cody for war. He planned to wage it.