#The Distance

[howabhwmwn]

Since this scene won't leave me alone I've decided to make it everybody else's problem too.

Let's look at cinematography!

All these extreme close-ups clearly showing how focused Howard is on his task, showing it's important to him. Look at how many seconds they actually use just to show Howard making Cheryl a Latte. Compare that to the way he makes his tea later on, while talking to Cheryl, no focus on him, or the tea or anything. Because that's not important. Giving Cheryl something nice that he spend time on is, though.

Enter Cheryl. Look at how they move into an extreme wide shot almost immediately (there is one medium shot to establish where Howard is, but that's for orientation for the viewer). Suddenly, the scene feels a lot less personal - it's cold. (the music cuts here too, leaving us in complete uncomfortable silence)

I'm completely insane about the literal wall between Howard and Cheryl.

Then, Cheryl walks around Howard to the far end of the table, putting as much space between them as possible. Quite the good way of showing how removed they are from each other, but watch this:

While talking, they are still in Medium Wide Shots, not on the screen together. Look at how far away they are from the camera, and on different sides of it. This makes the distance between them seem even more huge. I can't explain how much I'm obsessed with these two shots. They're so far removed from the other, they really put care into this scene, in how much space between Howard and Cheryl is.

Howard then walks over to Cheryl (or rather the camera), and places the Latte on the table, but he still stays on his side of the camera. Look at how it's a Detail Shot, a close-up now! Which makes us recall the care he put into it, the effort, the focus. The warm beautiful scene with the nice music.

In the next shot you can also see how far he is still away from Cheryl. He didn't even place the cup in front of her:

Even when it goes back to Cheryl's side of the camera, we only see Howard in her shot for a very short time. He places down the Latte, and immediately gets out of her shot, almost like he can't be close to her. Because he can't, physically, emotionally, their relationship isn't like this anymore.

She waits until he is at his place of the side of the camera before she moves, not mentioning the cup, or the art on it (except a short 'thanks') which Howard obviously made to get some kind of reaction. A conversation starter, a smile, anything. Look at his face when she just abandons it. Sure, physically, she's closer to him now, but at this moment, he is the cup of Latte that she just abandoned, because he put so much focus in it. It's a sign of his care for her.

He makes tea for himself here, and it's completely different from how he made her Latte. I'm losing my mind with how he makes it so carelessly while the Latte he put so much care in gets abandoned this carelessly.

Cheryl does not have time for a Latte. Howard probably thought making it would keep her with him a bit longer, and they could talk a bit. Maybe get a nice morning conversation that resembles at least a tiny bit the talks they had when their relationship wasn't this faded. But his hope gets destroyed, just as the art on the Latte gets destroyed.

She brings the cup back to where it belongs to, near Howard, basically returning this chance to talk, his care and focus, back to him, because she doesn't want it. And then she flees his side again, just as he put the distance between them earlier. Never staying too close to each other.

She declines his suggestion to go to the fundraiser together. He turns away, gets farther away from her. Even while they are back in one shot together, they're so far away. So much distance. Then, close-up on Howard's sad sad face. :( It's over. But then he realizes he can keep the conversation going: Jimmy. He needs to tell her about Jimmy!

And while he reveals this thing about his life, something real, something personal, finally there is a close-up of them both. This is normal for the viewer. This is how dialogues are usually shot. Can it be that Cheryl cares? Finally, they will have a real conversation. Maybe she will even show that she cares about Howard, is scared for him, will ask him if he is okay?!

No. She dismisses it. Removes the tiny bit of her that was in his side of the camera and leaves him alone in his shot.

She goes, and we get an almost identical shot to the first one. A wall between them. Nothing changed.

Howard gets left behind in this extreme wide shot. Alone. A tiny blue dot in a huge crème coloured house where he has no place anymore.

[outercrasis]

The Distance - Ch 13

Pairing: Din Djarin x Pilot F!Reader (reader is petite/no other descriptors)

Word Count/Rating: 4.8k / T (will become M/E in later chapters)

Summary: Time to meet a new (old) friend.

Warnings: some general angst (nothing too heavy), alcohol consumption

Previous || Series Masterlist || Next

Din doesn’t offer any additional details about Mos Pelgo or whoever you're supposed to be dropping in on. You put together a small bag, prepping for a couple days away from your ship. Tex seems more nervous than you do.

“I know buddy, but I'll still be on planet,” you placate. “It's a good opportunity to test out these long range comms too. You can send me whatever updates you want while I'm gone.”

Tex beeps lowly, reluctantly accepting the situation. You don't blame him – you can't remember the last time you left Tex or the Chimera for more than a single night.

“Got ‘em!” You hold up your old goggles triumphantly, finally locating them at the bottom of a long forgotten pack. “Knew I still had these somewhere.”

Peli is already waiting for you at the bottom of the Chimera's ramp. You can see why Din likes her – she feels like a crazy aunt that you only see once a cycle, while also being able to intuit things better than anyone else you know.

“What should I know about her?” Peli asks. You can't help but smile.

Thirty minutes later and you've given her the  rundown of the Chimera's basics. Tex has instructions to share schematics with Peli when needed and is officially given authority over the pit droids. He's not so secretly thrilled by that fact. Knowing that Peli is the mastermind behind the N1 calms any of your bigger anxieties about leaving your baby behind for repairs.

Din is already standing by the speeder bike when you’re done. It’s a bigger model that could probably support a sidecar, but there are none of those in sight. The only option is to sit on the bike with Din. You steel yourself, trying to push down your hurt feelings. There’s no point in lingering on them right now when you’re about to be in very close quarters with him. 

You give Grogu a couple pats goodbye and then shove your bag into one of the saddlebags already attached to the bike. 

“Is it comfortable?” Din asks. You're more than a little lost.

“My bag?”

He chuckles, the low noise just managing to bypass the vocoder. “No, the holster.”

It's the first time you've been able to wear it since he got it for you. Sure, you've worn it around the Chimera a few times, but never out in the world. “It's good.”

If you were in a better mood you might tell him that it fits like a glove – that you can almost forget you have it on. You don't know how he managed to find a holster that feels like it was made for you.

“Good.”

You climb onto the bike, moving yourself forward to make it easier for Din. He turns and says something to Peli you don’t catch before getting onto the bike behind you. It’s tight, but you both fit. 

You’re hyper aware of his body around yours. The firm, cool beskar at your back, the way his legs bracket around yours, his arms caging you in as he reaches up to the handlebars. You barely have enough presence of mind to pull your goggles down before he takes off, launching the two of you into the vast expanse of the desert.

You wish you could enjoy this more. This is the closest and longest you have ever been next to Din and yet you're stuck in a terrible mood. With nothing to distract you, his stupid words are running on a loop in your head. 

Just a pilot.

Even worse is that you're getting upset with yourself as well as Din. You don't know why you can't let it go. Why the words wormed their way into the worst part of your brain, plaguing you and making you feel childish. He probably didn't mean anything by it. You wish you could convince yourself of that.

The speeder bike is doing nothing to improve your mood. While the bike is capable of carrying two, that doesn’t mean it was built for it. Peli was right when she said it was junk – the seat cushion barely offers a modicum of support. 

Din’s position on the bike is so firm you can’t move or readjust at all. It was fine at first, making you feel a bit safer, protected by him on the dangerously fast bike. Now though, your body aches. Your refusal to create any additional points of contact between your bodies beyond what's unavoidable isn't helping either.

Your muscles demand to move, one of your legs half asleep from the position it’s in. Only your hands are free to move but you can’t decide what to do with them, so you settle for relaxing them in your lap until that gets uncomfortable after a while. Logically you know this isn’t actually Din’s fault, but the irrational side of your brain is winning. You feel trapped, stuck in one place on the machine until Din determines that it’s time to stop. You aren’t even sure of a way to signal to him to let him know that you need a quick pause to stretch.

You endure for a bit longer before deciding that you can’t continue. You don’t know how far away Mos Pelgo is and your body feels like it’s being turned into stone from inactivity. Even if it’s only for a few minutes, you need to stretch your legs. You decide to tap Din’s leg and try to look up at him. He gets your message because soon the speeder slows down and comes to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” Din asks.

“I need to stretch. I haven’t moved in too long and I’m way too stiff,” you explain. 

Din gets off of the bike first. You keep your eyes firmly planted forward, unwilling to watch and risk an awkward situation.

You stretch your arms and back first before moving from the seat. Your spine pops and you can feel your muscles rejoice from the new movement. You swing your leg around and go to step off the bike, only to have your legs give out and nearly fall face first into the sand. It appears that your leg was more than half-asleep in its crunched position.

You’re saved by Din’s quick reflexes, catching your arm and holding you up before you fall completely. “You okay, can’gal?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mumble, pulling your arm from his hold. You do your best to ignore the painful tingles in your leg as blood flow and feeling returns. You scan the landscape as you continue to stretch. It’s desolate, countless dunes of sand as far as the eye can see. Yet the planet is beautiful in its own way – a sterile kind that is unique with its twin suns shining brightly overhead.

After about five minutes of stretching and moving around, you turn back to Din. He’s leaning against the speeder with his arms casually folded over his chest. He looks like he should be on the cover of Speeders Weekly.

“I’m ready. Mind telling me how much farther we have?”

You climb back on and Din follows. “About another hour and a half. Think you can hold on that long?”

You glance up at him behind you. “It would be easier without your giant body blocking me in, but I think I’ll make it.”

Din lets out a distorted chuckle at your barb. He gives your legs a quick squeeze with his own. You ignore the skip in your heartbeat. “You can move if you need to, just don’t fall off.”

“How can I, with you in the way?”

Din laughs again and starts up the speeder. You pull your goggles back down and he takes off, launching you back over the endless sand dunes.

Nearly two hours later, Din’s prediction a little off, you can see Mos Pelgo in the distance. The twin suns hang low in the sky and cast barely enough light to see by. The second half of the speeder ride wasn’t as bad. It was shorter and the suns sinking had alleviated much of the heat. 

You felt a bit more comfortable moving when your body began to stiffen which helped to prevent more pain. At some point you even begin to relax – if you ignored how uncomfortable the seat was beneath you it wasn’t so bad. Din’s chestplate acted as a nice backrest for you and you can tell he tried to position his legs to give yours more room. They didn't start tingling again at least.

Once you see the tiny settlement on the horizon you feel your stomach drop. Your palms are getting sweaty and you know it has nothing to do with the planet’s heat. This town clearly doesn’t have much and you wonder why Din made his way out here before. Did he track a bounty all this way? And who could compel him to return? Whoever they were, they must be pretty to come out here for a visit.

Din slows the speeder bike as you roll into town and you see a few people wandering around Mos Pelgo. You expect them all to stare in wonder or fear like what normally happens when Din comes into a town. Instead, you can hardly believe your eyes as they… wave? Are the people in this town actually waving at the big scary Mandalorian? Maker, what is this place? It’s unlike any experience you’ve ever had with Din at your side before.

Din stops the speeder outside of the cantina. He hops off and offers you a hand. You still feel anxious and a large part of you doesn’t want to take it, but you can’t fully trust your legs at the moment. His hand is firm in yours and you can’t help but feel a small amount of comfort at the touch.

The cantina is as small and cozy as you've ever seen one. The lights are low, half the tables taken up by patrons. There's a comfortable murmur filling the air that mixes with the jizz music coming from a jukebox in the corner.

Din guides you towards one of the rounded booths. You've never seen him this relaxed in a public setting before. His visor is scanning the room but the looseness of his shoulders tells you he’s not looking for a threat.

You figure you'll know this mystery person when you see them. Din might be hidden away under all that armor, but somehow the only the prettiest of people find their way to him. You've seen more than a few brave souls be turned away. Nerves get the better of you and you begin to absentmindedly pick at your fingers.

Moments later, a drawl comes from above you. “Well I'll be.”

You look up and see a tall, lanky but not awkward man standing in front of you and Din. He’s got a sideways grin plastered on his face, which should look more ridiculous than it does. His silver hair looks as though it was nicely styled like his short beard before the desert winds blew through it. His eyes are bright and you’re tempted to describe them as sparkling.

“Mando,” he says in a friendly greeting while sticking his hand out towards Din for a handshake.

“Marshal,” Din shakes the man’s hand. He turns to you and gestures to his acquaintance. “Meet Cobb Vanth, Marshal of Mos Pelgo.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Cobb turns his smile to you and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel yourself melt a little. You already understand why Din would want to come out here for a visit – this man could probably charm just about anyone.

“And just who might you be, darlin’? Don’t tell me you’re somehow that little green kid he had with him before.”

That makes you laugh out loud. “No, I’m not.” You offer up your name along with your hand to shake. Cobb takes your hand and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles. You have to admit, he’s smooth. Din gives a small cough from his side of the booth.

“Sorry there Mando, just couldn’t help myself,” Cobb says, winking at you. Oh, he’s very smooth.

“Sure you couldn’t.”

Cobb sits on your other side, across from Din, and hails the bartender over. He sets down three cups and an entire jug of spotchka. The Marshal must be well liked then, you think, if the bartender is willing to part with a jug so easily. Cobb pours all three glasses, which strikes you as odd, considering that he should know Din doesn’t eat or drink with others. Din doesn’t say anything about it though, so you keep quiet as well.

“What brings you out this way?” Cobb asks as he passes the cups around.

“Had the time. I was told you came back here after your time in the bacta tank.”

Just how many friends does Din have on this backwater rock? You thought you were getting to know one another – two loners who found each other – and here he is with a number of mystery friends he never speaks of. Maybe you had misjudged the closeness of your relationship.

“Nowhere else for me to go,” Cobb says. “Besides, the new arm works for intimidation purposes.”

With a flick of his wrist, a small blaster pops up out of the Marshal's robotic arm. It probably doesn't have any more power than a hold-out blaster, but it gets a message across. Din doesn't even flinch.

As close as you are to each other, you're able to see the gears whirring in his arm and follow the different lines and parts as they travel up towards his shoulder. His mod isn't the fanciest you've ever seen but it's still a work of art.

“Marshal, do you mind if I take a look?” you ask, gesturing towards his arm. He seems proud of it, so you don't think he'll mind the request.

He puts the blaster away, setting his arm down on the table in front of you. “Not at all. Just don't touch with that part there, sends my nerves ablaze if it's messed with.”

This new man is just as much of a mystery to you as the other one at the table. Din took months before he'd let you poke around at his armor’s electronic components and that wasn't even fully attached to his body. Meanwhile Cobb is more than happy to have you take a look while also revealing its biggest weakness.

Din and Cobb's conversation fades away as you look over his arm. This kind of fine mechanical work is always tricky, ten times more when you factor in the biological component. Cobb allows you to move his arm in whatever way you see fit, easily answering the questions that you’re mostly muttering to yourself. You ignore Din’s weighty stare.

“You’ve got a thing of beauty there, Marshal,” you say as you complete your observations.

“Well that's not a word I hear that often,” he defers. “And please, call me Cobb.”

“Somehow I doubt that, Cobb.”

He laughs loudly. “Well shoot. You've got one heck of a girl here, Mando.”

You glance over at Din. He's as stoic as ever. You're left floundering – no longer truly understanding your relationship with him or his relationship to Cobb. Irritation bubbles over.

“Not his girl. Just a pilot.” You throw back the shot of spotchka in front of you, ignoring the burn as it goes down.

“Duly noted,” Cobb says, giving you a small nod. You don’t look over at Din. You don’t want to see his reaction.

The three of you are able to fall into easy conversation from there. You discover the connection between Cobb and Din – You mean you haven’t told her ‘bout me? I’m hurt Mando, real hurt – and you decide you can’t imagine Mandalorian armor on Cobb. There’s just something about him that doesn’t work quite right with your picture. He’s too casual, too comfortable with himself to ever need a second skin over top. He's also too skinny you decide, not nearly broad enough to fill out Mandalorian armor as it should be.

You don't try to hide your fascination as Cobb regales you with the tale of the krayt dragon. "I thought he was a goner for sure, getting eaten like that. Just when I'm thinkin' the worst out he comes, flying out of the beast's mouth like some sorta hero."

You turn to Din, the spotchka in your system removing any embarrassment as you openly gape at him. "Is he telling the truth?" you ask. It's not that you don't trust Cobb, but the whole thing is so remarkable that it's hard to believe.

"He's making it sound like more than it was. I was covered in it's bile, I stunk for weeks after that."

You learn about Mos Pelgo, how Cobb came to be its Marshal, and how the town has been getting on since the dragon's death. He tells you about the run-ins with the Pyke Syndicate and how he came to lose his arm.

Through all the replays of Din and Cobb's greatest hits, you figure that if there are any kind of romantic feelings between the two, it's never elevated beyond some flirtation. It makes you feel foolish for ever getting jealous in the first place. Old habits and ways of thinking die hard, you suppose.

The spotchka goes down easy, a welcome distraction from any unhappy thoughts lingering in the back of your mind. Cobb continues to flirt with you throughout the night, serving as another nice distraction. You know you shouldn't encourage it, but his open attraction and the alcohol make it difficult to resist. Sure, he is a bit skinny, a bit talkative, and his skin isn't as sun-kissed as you preferred, but he could do. 

As the night wears to a close, you can feel sleep begin to pull at the corners of your mind. The long day in the sun combined with the alcohol you consumed start working together to make your body shut down. You hardly register as Din asks Cobb where the two of you can stay for the night.

You pull yourself out of the booth, slapping your cheeks gently to try and clear up the fog in your mind. You regain enough clarity to function without assistance. After Din grabs your bags off the speeder, you both follow Cobb as he leads you both to the single spare room above the cantina.

"Sorry it ain't much, but as you know we don't get many visitors out here," Cobb says as he opens the door.

He's right. It isn't much. Just a tiny square room with a bed and a dresser with a 'fresher attached. You're happy to note that it all looks clean though, devoid of the layer of sand that seems to cover everything on Tatooine.

"It'll be just fine, thank you Marshal," you tell him. Cobb tips an imaginary hat and throws a wink at you. He gives Din a wink too, which makes you snort. He then walks away, throwing a goodnight over his shoulder.

You shake your head, amused, and follow Din into the room. Rather than flounder about the sleeping arrangements, you grab some clothes from your bag and go into the 'fresher, determined to get off at least some of the day's grime. You're disappointed with a sonic shower, although you weren't sure what else you expected, being on a desert planet. Still, it provides some relief and you change into some clean clothes to sleep in. You splash a small amount of water on your face from the sink and gulp some down in your cupped hands.

"All yours," you announce as you walk back into the small room. 

Din doesn't say anything, but he goes into the 'fresher and closes the door just a bit too hard. Was he mad about something, you wonder? Although you've hit your second wind, the alcohol is still playing with your thoughts. Maybe he's just moody from the long day.

He doesn't take long in there, certainly less time than your small tipsy fumbles, and comes back out still fully dressed. You push yourself up onto your elbows in the bed and look him over. "Take off the armor," you tell him.

"You're drunk,” he responds.

“Yeah? And why does that matter?” you ask. Din doesn’t reply. You sigh and drop backwards to stare up at the ceiling. 

“There’s no way you can be comfortable sleeping in all of that metal. So just take it off and get in the bed. I’m obviously not talking about the helmet.”

You stay staring at the ceiling. It’s a fairly comfortable position, head cushioned in the pillows, while you try to not make him uncomfortable. 

You aren’t really sure why this is such a big deal to him tonight. He’s taken off his beskar in front of you plenty of times now. Yet maybe something had changed between the two of you again without you noticing. You were just a pilot to him, maybe that meant some of his walls were coming back up? Desperately, you tried to ignore the stab of pain that thought caused you. You don’t want to lose Din to the cold, distant Mando you met so many months ago, especially not without knowing why. The thought is too much to bear.

You turn on your side, away from Din, offering him extra assurance that you weren’t just trying to perv on him as he removed his armor. You know he's caught you staring more than a few times around the Chimera. Did that bother him? You should have asked.

Part of you knows you should be more nervous about sharing a bed with Din – particularly with this growing gulf between the two of you. This is intimate in a way, isn’t it? Sharing a space to sleep like this? Yet, whether it’s the influence of the alcohol or the exhaustion, you can’t find it within yourself to be flustered over it. It’s practical anyway. You both need sleep and Mos Pelgo only has the one room and bed to offer. One of you sleeping on the floor would be stupid. You try to convince yourself that if only Din would stop being ridiculous and get into the bed, things would be just fine again – right?

After what seems like an eternity, you hear metal pieces begin to clank down together on the dresser. A small smile works its way across your lips and you’re happy that for once it’s your face hidden away from his. He’s hesitant maybe, but not uncomfortable enough to keep the heavy armor on. Knowing that things are okay enough, your eyes shutter closed and a deep sleep carries you away.

Din is surprised to discover that you’re already asleep when he climbs into bed. You seemed so awake a few moments ago when he started taking off his armor. He’s still kicking himself for his reaction. 

Of course you meant for him to take it off to go to sleep, not... anything else. Why would you? You’ve been acting off ever since landing on Tatooine. You wouldn’t suddenly be asking him for that, not now. Not that you would want anything like that with him anyway – Din feels like a monster for thinking that way about you.

Looking down at you, Din ruminates a bit more. Somehow between all of the bounties, long hours, injuries, and repairs, you worked your way into his heart. Part of him doesn’t want to admit it still, that you have such a large effect on him, but it gets harder with every passing day. Touches and stares linger for longer and Din takes notice of your bashfulness every time he calls your name. Until today.

Din hasn’t been able to figure out what has caused the change. Soon after landing in Tatooine you brushed him off, distancing yourself from him. He knew the speeder bike situation wasn’t ideal, but usually you would have handled something like that with more tact, not the brash way you questioned Peli about another bike. You were tense for the longest time on the bike, not relaxing until the small break you took part way through the ride. Were you just upset to be stuck on Tatooine? Bothered by the beating the Chimera took? Or had he done something?

He was leaning towards the idea that he had done something to upset you. Just a pilot. Those words bounced around in his mind. 

He panicked when Peli asked who you were and those had been the first words out of his mouth. He hardly even considered the way they would sound. The way you repeated those words to Cobb, it felt like a slap to the face.

The town marshal wasn't helping anything either. Watching the two of you was making his blood boil. He likes the man, killing a krayt dragon together has that effect, but he has few qualms about punching the Marshal in the face right about now. He stared at you so openly, flirted so shamelessly, and you reciprocated. If Din was a lesser man he would have thrown you over his shoulder and carted you out of the cantina.

His mind continued to swirl and wander. Was it simply being stuck on Tatooine that made you change? Did being stuck here, with no agenda as you put it earlier, make you realize flying around with him was not the life you wanted? 

Of course you didn’t want to be stuck, tied down to a man who couldn’t even show you his face, who couldn’t even admit what you were to him. Cobb was able to make his intentions towards you obvious from the first words he spoke. You deserved that, not the brief, vague moments of intimacy Din had to offer.

Din looks away from you, trying to close his heart off from you, deciding that it’s what's best. He makes himself comfortable, lying on his back, helmet cushioned by the pillow.

He reopens his eyes just as soon as he closes them. You've repositioned yourself in your sleep, turning over and wrapping an arm firmly around his waist, face tucked into his side. 

The touch makes him nervous, unsure of how to react to the foreign embrace. His resolve to give you up quickly crumbles. Din’s never had this. He’s thought of it before, but it was all theoretical. This is real and unlike anything he ever imagined.

Part of him feels perverted for enjoying it as much as he is and so quickly after realizing you deserved more than him. You’re asleep and you fell asleep facing the other direction – you had no control over this, no consent. 

Despite those protests, he can’t help but sink into your touch. He repositions his arm, wrapping it around you, which causes you to shift your head up onto his chest. His breathing stops for a minute, terrified that you’ll wake up and pull away, but you remain lost in blissful dreams. The feeling of your warm body pressed against his, hand fisting into his shirt, the gentle rise and fall of your back against his palm while you breathe, is almost more than he can handle.

Din lies there for a few minutes, trying to commit every sensation, every sound you make to memory. It’s overwhelming and yet he craves more. With the helmet on in this position, he can’t get the right angle to look down at you. A risky idea runs through his mind and once again he ignores his protesting thoughts, following the path your touch has sent him down. 

He calls your name twice, softly, just to test how deeply you’re sleeping. When you don’t do so much as twitch, he decides it’s safe enough. 

Carefully, Din removes his helmet with his hand that isn’t holding onto you. He doesn’t set it down, holding onto it in case he needs to quickly put it back on. Vision unobscured, he looks down at you wrapped around his body. Din finds himself dumbstruck.

That moment secures your position in his mind as the most beautiful thing in the whole of the galaxy. You look so peaceful, any worries wiped clean from your face. Your mouth is slightly open and although Din knows that means you’ll probably drool on him, he can’t bring himself to care. Your hair is a beautiful mess and Din thinks back to the one time he was able to touch it before, back on Rishi with you half-conscious from a concussion. He's really got to stop having these moments while you aren't awake.

Moving more cautiously than he ever has before, Din dips his head down and presses a gentle kiss against the top of your head. He whispers cyar’ika to you and dares to kiss you again. With one final look and a shaky breath, Din slips his helmet back on. He knows he’ll never get to sleep otherwise, far too tempted to spend the rest of his night just staring at you.

No longer using a taglist -- If you want alerts, this fic is available and gets updated on ao3 at the same time, so you can subscribe on there if you want to know when I update!

also going to be mushy here and say thank you to anyone who has sent me a message, left a comment, etc on this fic. It genuinely means the world to know that people are still reading and thinking about this fic 🥺💕

[theshippirate22]

NASCAR!Steve/Mechanic!Eddie (Thinking of Someone For Whom He Still Burns)

this one’s for you @grimmfitzz my dear <33 you’re too good to me really I’m going to become undomesticated or something ;)

The house was still thick with gold. 

Eddie dragged his fingers down the cream walls on his way down the stairs, stepping softly so he didn’t break the perfect silence. Not that it was silent; Wayne left the windows open when he went out in the mornings. The white, transparent cotton curtains billowed out, bringing in the warm breeze with them. There was a lawnmower outside, giving some white noise to the gentleness of the house; must be Chrissy finding an excuse to have her headphones on all morning. She probably just got back from her run, still feeling the adrenaline, the restlessness, and electing to put it into something productive. 

The light was amber, the way it seemingly danced in through the walls to fill the house up with the same gold of the daffodils in the flowerbed right outside. The air smelled faintly of greenery, whether it was Chrissy’s grass shavings or Wayne’s precious flower gardens, Eddie couldn’t say. 

He filled a glass with water and sipped on it, washing the taste of sleep from his mouth. Flipped on the tv to add another set of lively voices to the sound of summer mornings. It was already tuned into the news, and he almost went to change it, switch it to cartoons or something, but he had already taken the toaster from the cabinet and suddenly breakfast seemed infinitely more important. 

“-nvestigating the disappearance of the famous racer.” The newscaster explained eagerly. “While officials at California Speedway are still waiting for his arrival, his managers have been holding press conferences to ease the fans’ anxieties.”

Eddie popped two slices of wheat bread into the toaster, and leaned back against the counter to see what was going on.

The film switched from the newscaster lady in a pencil skirt and a blazer, to another woman in a pencil skirt and a blazer, backed by a man with more freckles than should have been possible- Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan, the caption provided. “We have no reason to suspect foul play regarding our client at this time. We’re sure it’s nothing more than a miscommunication or misunderstanding of some kind. However, if anyone has any information regarding his whereabouts, we urge you to come forward immediately.”

The toast popped out. Eddie burned his hand throwing them onto the plate. 

The newscaster returned as voiceover to footage of the racer- not that you could actually see him; in every shot, he was either wearing his helmet or turned away- from “Tuesday’s Indianapolis Race,” as the caption provided. “Starting last season as a complete rookie-“

“Turn that NASCAR shit off.”

Eddie startled, dropping his toast back on the plate, before realizing Wayne had just gotten back and rushing to swallow the bite he’d just taken. “Just a sec, I wanna see...”

“When competitor Billy Hargrove was asked about his absence, he said:” The clip cut to the grossest man Eddie had ever seen, with long messy, blond hair and the kind of mustache that just screamed I-disrespect-women. “I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s probably blacked out in a ditch somewhere and he’ll show up hungover as hell. In the meantime,” He looked dead at the camera, as if he was speaking directly to the missing racer. “I’ll be here hanging out with The King, buddy.”

The way he said the last word certainly implied nothing congenial about the relationship.

“Fans line the streets outside the Speedway-” The camera panned to corroborate. “-to catch a glimpse of his car. In lieu of last week’s interview, some fans are afraid of a darker story. After announcing on live television that he identified as bisexual, then going missing after just five days has his supporters truly hoping this is just a misunderstanding on his teams’ part.”

And back to the press conference and Miss Carol Perkins. 

“We cannot confirm or deny the rumors of death threats being sent to the team at this time. However, with any large announcement from anyone of any fame, there is expected to be public backlash, and our client’s coming out is no exception. We have worked continuously with security and law enforcement to look into any and all potential threats and provide reasonable protection against them. We have no reason to believe the disappearance is a hate crime in nature or related to the coming out at all. Once again, if anyone has any information-”

The tv shut off, the sudden black of the screen swallowing any of the color and Eddie cried out indignantly. “Wayne! I was watching that!”

Wayne’s flat expression didn’t change, but he answered softly, “It’ll just upset you.” 

That was true-already, Eddie’s toast was starting to taste like sawdust- but it wasn’t like people didn’t get hate-crimed every day. Especially people like Eddie. Like...

Damn, Eddie hadn’t even caught the missing racer’s name. 

Maybe the slimy misogynist was right. Maybe he had just blacked out somewhere, so hungover he forgot what day it was. 

Hopefully.

Yes it’s the plot of Cars (2006). I’ve never watched a NASCAR race in my life. I don’t know anything about NASCAR. This amuses me though so I’m doing it anyway because that’s where I am in my life. Anyway! If you’re interested in more let me know!

[kellymagovern]

Cake - "The Distance" [x]

[inrumford]

there's a song in the distance with notes pure and true with lyrics then formed by the essence of you

a song in the distance a song in the distance

there's a song in the distance like a flickering flame it's melody plays when I whisper your name

a song in the distance a song in the distance

a song in the distance that calls from afar the light of forgiveness from a wandering star a song in the distance that I simply call "you" the melody pure the melody true a song in the distance I simply call "you"

there's a song in the distance I am yearning to play as I finger the fret board in just such a way

that each note is a product of a tender caress that touches all that is true

each note a small piece of you

a song in the distance that calls from afar the light of forgiveness from a wandering star a song in the distance that I simply call "you" the melody pure the melody true a song in the distance I simply call "you"

a song in the distance a song in the distance

a song in the distance

[haichengtual]

if this time is the last drive out in the haze,

take me in for the last time into your eyes...

for @xiaoxiongmaos from your secret santa ♡

[th3wizardoz]

Giving my OC a failed marriage bc I like him a normal amount

[filmnoirfoundation]

FNF prez Eddie Muller responds to film noir fan questions fielded by the Foundation's Director of Communications Anne Hockens. In this episode, we discuss Lightning Strikes Twice, Woman on the Run, Darwyn Cooke’s comic book adaptations of Richard Stark’s Parker novels, which classic film noirs should be remade, Eddie’s novel The Distance and more. We wind up the show with a discussion of the notorious psychological thriller Who Killed Teddy Bear. On the cat front, we get a rare visit from Tizzy the traveling cat.

Want your question answered in a future episode? We solicit questions from our email subscribers in our monthly newsletters. Sign up for free at filmnoirfoundation.org

Everyone who signs up on our email list and contributes $20 or more to the Film Noir Foundation receives the digital version of NOIR CITY Magazine for a year.

Can’t join us on Thursday? No problem! A recording will be up on our YouTube channel, @NoirCity, on Friday, October 6.

Note: Eddie will not be able to answer questions posted during the livestream nor ones left on our social media accounts

The dialogue of LIGHTNING STRIKES TWICE was nuanced, subtle, wicked, I wonder what male author has also sustained that continuous level of repartee? At the amusement park towards the finale of WOMAN ON THE RUN, the life-size Laughing Sally made me think it was San Francisco - am I mistaken?

Sara

Any news of a restoration/screening/Noir Alley showing/home release for CANON CITY (1948)? Morse

Eddie has expressed his affinity for comic books in the past, have either of you read the Darwyn Cooke adaptations of Richard Stark’s Parker books?

Nathanael from New Braunfels, Texas

Would Film Noir have existed if World War II had not?

John

Are there any classical Film Noir movies that might be worth a redo along the lines of NIGHTMARE ALLEY, with the chance of going back to original source material without the production code limitations?

Carlton, Atlanta, Georgia

In WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS Scalise keeps administrating what appears to be a nasal spray, but from my memory of Le Chiffre in James Bond isn’t it likelier that it is Benzedrine he’s inhaling?

Eric

One of my more favorite movies of recent vintage is EMILY THE CRIMINAL.  What do both of you think about the film?  

John - Brooklyn, N.Y.

I recently watched David Lynch's brilliant LOST HIGHWAY for the first time in several years and for the first time the very noir elements really stuck out for me. Is there another neo-noir with such strong sci-fi elements?

Joe on Long Island

My first question is for Eddie.  Do you consider Alfred Hitchcock’s SPELLBOUND and THE PARADINE CASE – both starring your favorite actor, Gregory Peck – to be good representatives of noir films?  

Anne, since you are a big fan of the Golden Era of Radio, were you a fan of the Alan Ladd radio series, BOX 13, and do you think it qualifies as a noir?  

Loren, Chicago

Re THE DISTANCE. Couldn't find any definition for "Swansy hollow punch". Could you elaborate? Did you make up the fighters' names or are they real names pulled from the past Was this your first book-length effort? If not, what was?

Jay and Connie, Ann Arbor, MI

[outercrasis]

The Distance - Ch 12

Pairing: Din Djarin x Pilot F!Reader (reader is petite/no other descriptors)

Word Count/Rating: 2.1k / T (will become M/E in later chapters)

Summary: Surprises rock the Chimera.

Warnings: Din puts his foot in his mouth<3

Previous || Series Masterlist || Next

Alarms are blaring throughout the Chimera. Lights flash everywhere as you frantically flip switches and press buttons on the main console. The control stick trembles in your hand, unaccustomed to this level of speed and agility. She's a good ship but she's not made for these kinds of maneuvers.

You hear Din running into the cockpit only for you to yell, "I don't need you up here! Get into the gun well and start blasting at some of these rocks!"

Another asteroid nears the left side of the Chimera, forcing you into a tight turn that nearly throws him off his feet. You're thankful that he doesn't complain.

It's a mystery where this asteroid belt came from. It's not on any of your maps. You would have never dropped to sublight in this quadrant if it had. Your only stroke of luck is that the belt is relatively small, which greatly increases your chance of getting out alive.

Blaster fire reverberates from below you, turning some of the debris into dust. Not for the first time you’re thankful to have a Mandalorian with you. You’re not sure what you would have done alone or with someone who couldn’t couldn’t hit the broad side of a bantha.

The way out becomes easier with Din clearing a path. Rather than simply reacting, you’re able to press forward through the belt. Still, the Chimera shakes with the effort it’s taking to get through in one piece. Tex beeps wildly back at the center console, adding to the litany of noise going on inside the ship.

“I know buddy, I can see it,” you yell back. A massive asteroid is drawing nearer to the ship, an impossible to miss flash on the radar. 

You’re about to call out to Din when you hear him over the comm. “I’m on it.”

The blasterfire focuses to the right, firing faster than you knew the Chimera’s guns could. The asteroid starts breaking into pieces. Through the rubble a clear path out of the belt finally makes itself apparent. 

“Hold on!” you yell, wildly maneuvering the ship. Somehow, thankfully, Din also sees the path you’re taking and focuses his fire on keeping it clear. With one final hard turn to the right, the Chimera breaks free of the deadly field. 

You slam the controls and launch into hyperspace. There’s no set destination, but anywhere is better than the asteroids. You go over to the main computer, searching for any nearby planets with fully outfitted mechanics. There’s no temporary repairs that will fix the damage both the Chimera and N1 just sustained. Din comes up behind you, peering at the computer screen.

“How’s the ship?” he asks.

“Bad. Main functions are online, but we need to find the nearest spaceport or repair bay.”

"There," Din says, pointing at the map. His finger has landed on some nearby dustbowl planet in the Outer Rim. You look up at him, questioning.

It's only now that you register how close he is to you. You have to practically look straight up make eye contact with the black of his helmet, the chin of which is nearly bumping his chest. Warmth is radiating from his body and you're not sure if that's the vestiges of sleep clinging to him or adrenaline still coursing through his veins. You have no idea if this level of proximity was intentional.

"I have some friends there, one's a mechanic."

Good enough reason for you. "You heard him Tex, set course for Tatooine."

There isn’t much time to prepare for landing. It’s nice to have a secure place to land on a nearby planet, but you have no idea what to expect. Din hadn't really elaborated on his friends.

Discovering that Din has someone that he would even consider a friend, let alone multiple on the same planet, was shocking in and of itself. Could they be Mandalorians? Distant family? Friends in arms? Past lovers? The possibilities make your head swirl.

The descent is relatively easy into Hangar 3-5. At the very least nothing falls off your ship, so things can't be too bad. Grogu also seems to grow in excitement, making you wonder just how much time Din has spent here for the small fry to recognize it.

Even more surprising is the loud and fierce voice that floats into the Chimera. "What did you do to my ship, Mando? She's one-of-a-kind, you can't go smashing her up!"

Stepping down the ramp, you're greeted by a small, wiry haired mechanic bearing down on Din like she's his mother. It's the closest you've ever seen Din come to being cowed by someone. 

"Don't go too hard on him. We were surprised by an unmarked asteroid belt," you call down.

The mechanic's sharp eyes turn toward you, analyzing you in half a second. A wide grin splits across her face. “Got yourself a girlfriend, Mando? Didn’t take you for the type.” You can feel your cheeks burn. 

There's a pause before Din speaks. “No, she’s… she’s just a pilot.” His words feel like knives. You don't let it show.

You step past Din and offer your hand out to her to shake. “And mechanic, occasional babysitter and medic. He forgot those.”

"Sounds about right. Peli Motto." Peli has barely dropped your hand before she's yelling out for her pit droids to start scanning the ships.

Before anything else can be said, you stride back over to the Chimera and start taking in the damage for yourself. At least, that's half of what you're doing. You refuse to let your emotions show before a woman you've just met and a man who apparently thinks of you as just a pilot.

You feel foolish, having heard him brush you off so easily. You thought there had been a change between the two of you. More fleeting touches, more shared looks that lasted just a bit too long, enough that at some point you stopped denying that they happened in the first place. You didn’t consider yourself his girlfriend, the label didn’t feel appropriate, but you were more than just a pilot. Or so you thought.

Peli walks up beside you, Grogu tucked into the crook of her arm. "Let my pit droids worry about this. I'll share their work-up with you."

You appreciate the gesture. There’s no doubt her sharp eyes have already taken note of the Chimera's many modifications. She's clearly a woman who understands the bond between a pilot and their ship. 

She nods her head at you and Din, walking towards the interior of the hangar with the clear implication for you to follow. Din’s long legs allow him to catch up to you quickly and his gloved hand brushes the back of yours as you walk. A couple hours ago a touch like that would have set you aflame, but now it makes your blood run cold. You ignore it, moving your hand away from his. 

Getting to the back of the hangar, you purposely sit across the table from Din. You don’t feel like dealing with any more accidental touches at the moment. Part of you feels childish for it, but your wounded pride is currently in the driver's seat. Just a pilot, what utter banthashit that is.

"Here you go." Peli places a glass of water in front of you and turns to Din. "I'd offer you some, but I know you won't drink it with your Creed and all that."

Din doesn't say anything and you thank her for the drink. You can feel the sweltering heat of the planet even in the shade. Sweat is already causing your clothes to stick to your skin. 

Grogu climbs out of Peli’s arms and sits on top of the table between you and Din. You wonder if he can feel the awkward energy radiating between the two of you. Peli seems oblivious to it, launching into a discussion with Din about current dealings on Tatooine. You tune them out. It’s not that the discussion bores you, normally you would listen with rapt attention to learn anything you can about the world you’ve landed on, but your thoughts are otherwise occupied. 

Why did he touch your hand just then? First he dismisses you, barely even acknowledging the sort of relationship that's built between you over the months, and then he moves for contact? Those aren't games you ever expected him to play. You aren't even asking for all that much, just a genuine acknowledgment of your role. Just a pilot, how dismissive. Even being called a crewmate would have been better than that.

A pit droid walking up distracts you from your sullen thoughts. He speaks to Peli and then immediately turns around, going back to the Chimera.

"Good news and bad news," Peli says. "Bad news for you, these repairs are going to take a few days. Good news, you can pay me to fix it."

"How is that good news?" Din asks.

"Good news for me." Peli stands and walks off, yelling directions at her droids, not giving Din a chance to argue. 

You're not sure what this means for you. Remarkably, you haven’t been fully grounded anywhere in years. There were a handful of close calls, but you always managed to make something work to get the Chimera back off the ground. This is unprecedented. The Chimera grounded and Din with no bounty to chase. What are you going to do?

Din gets up from the table and goes to follow Peli, presumably to talk about the timeline for repairs. You'll talk with her later about what actually needs to be done to your ship. You stay with Grogu at the table, only catching snippets of their conversation from afar.

"-too much."

"Do you know what it costs to-"

"-pay extra credits."

After some more back and forth, Din returns to the small table. Grogu turns his attention from you to his father. He grabs hold of one of Din's fingers and shakes it around a bit, which if the kid's reaction is anything to go off of, is a fascinating thing to do.

"What's our plan?" you ask Din.

"What do you mean?" He keeps his focus on Grogu as he replies, wiggling his other fingers for the child.

"I mean we're stuck here for a few days with nothing on the agenda, so what are we going to do?"

"We can go sightsee." 

Din puts the idea out there so simply and honestly it takes you aback. Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, sightseeing? You thought he was going to say something about finding a bounty, not sound like he was some mudscuffer on vacation in Coruscant. Is there even anything to go sightsee on this dustbowl planet?

"Sorry, what?" you ask.

"There's a little town to the north, Mos Pelgo. We can go there." Din sounds serious. The idea of sightseeing isn't some elaborate joke from him, he actually wants to go.

Peli reappears and must have heard Din mention the northern city because she asks, “Why would you go back out there?”

“There’s someone out there I’d like to check in on," Din says.

Interesting. This must be that other friend Din obliquely mentioned before. Someone close enough that they're worth visiting with your few days to kill. Maybe some paramour from his past? You've never considered that he could have previous romantic interests hidden around the galaxy. It would explain his rude and casual brush off of your relationship earlier if one is here on Tatooine. You try to ignore the pit in your stomach you feel forming while you consider the existence of some lover in Mos Pelgo, waiting for Din's return.

"You're in luck then, I fixed up a speeder bike while you were gone. Piece of junk like the other one you busted, but it should get you there," Peli offers.

Before Din can say anything, you cut in. "Just the one?"

"You’re lucky I fixed up that one."

“There isn’t another bike? Or a landspeeder?” This has to be some kind of cruel joke the galaxy is playing on you. Somehow, in all the piles of scrap Peli had lying around the hangar, she only has one speeder? And it's just a bike? Maker, your luck is terrible.

“Nope.”

“You’re sure you can’t scrounge up another?” you press further.

“Look girlie, I like you but not that much. The one bike is all I’ve got,” Peli says, throwing her hands into the air.

“It’s fine,” Din’s gruff voice breaks up the small debate. “The one bike is fine.”

Din stands up from the table. "Peli, can you look after the kid?"

Peli looks a little shocked to be asked but scrambles to say yes. She picks Grogu up and holds him on her hip, as though she suspects Din might change his mind and take Grogu back. It's settled then. You're heading to Mos Pelgo.

A/N: Long time no see! I'm not going to pretend like I'll be updating with any real consistency, but know that it'll continue to happen lol. Also, I'm ditching my taglist bc it's too much work. BUT you can always find this fic on AO3 and subscribe if you want alerts when I update :)

[ahno-nimus]

Anyone else haunted by something they cannot define or is it just me and the guy in the car

[raffaellosanziodaurbino]

You're bowels shake because of earthquakes of doubt and remorse. My bowels shake bc I have IBS. We are not the same

[ravenmccookies]

The androgynous urge to cuddle my online friends whom I've never met irl

[poprocklyrics]

He's haunted by something he cannot define

The Distance, Cake

[myimaginaryradio]

The Distance - Cake - 1996

This one's for @beka-dreamer