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tiredfoxtf · 6 months

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Small analysis on DR murder mystery no one asked for but I wrote it anyway!

Danganronpa! A colourful series of murder mysteries with a pink tint of blood. The last addition to the series – Danganonpa V3: Killing Harmony – has been around for 7 years now and that makes me automatically feel so old, but hey what’s worse than that is to think that 2019 was 5 years ago now. It’s been half a decade since the start of COVID epidemic and that alone would make someone sick. And during these years I found myself in and out of Danganronpa fandom spaces. Specifically a Fan Danganropa fan spaces, the inception goes crazy on this one. I am a big enthusiast of taking the Danganronpa’s core ideas and shaping them into something new. I don’t really go into actual canonical Danganronpa fandom, because, well, it's a completely different can of worms that I really do not want to deal with. I've had enough discourse these past 5 years in MCYT fandom and am really tired. But that’s a side tangent.

What we are actually here today is to take a peek at what makes the most intriguing part of any Danganronpa game tick – the murder mystery. And as a side hustle we can take a peek on how different characters affect it. And just maybe a structure of the plot itself. (spoilers for mainline dr games ahead)

So, first thing first let’s look at the way a chapter in the main line Danganronpa game is structured, something you guys know very well.

DAILY LIFE

First we have a Daily Life. On the first glance you might think – “What Daily Life has to do with a murder mystery aspect of the mainline game? Isn’t it supposed to be a peaceful time with no murder?”. And on the surface you are right. But Daily Life serves many purposes for the Murder Mystery: Environment, Motive and Social Interaction.

Firstly, set up of the environment. Like props on the stage, rooms and layout of the building or other environment that is introduced in Daily Life will affect the murder in some way. It’s basically Chechov’s Arsenal we’re talking about. If there’s a gun in the first act, it must be shot by the end of the third and if there’s a garbage compactor in the Daily Life it must be used in a murder. Of course as we progress down the chapters and the area of the Killing Game’s grounds grow bigger it gets harder to just keep in mind what happened when and what rooms have what. And mainline DR games really suffer from “we used this room once in one chapter and forgot about it” disease. But in defence of the games, the area they work with is usually so unbelievably huge (especially suffers SDR2). I really don’t blame them for not utilising stuff from previous chapters in new ones.

But also it’s what is really easy to fix for us, the murder mystery and DR enthusiasts, in our own Danganronpa-like stories. All that needs to be done is to shrink the scale a notch. Instead of opening up a whole new section of buildings or new floors every new chapter, it’s worth opening up a few rooms. It’s also important, listen to me, it’s very important that every new room that is opened is unique in some way. You should not be able to replace it with a room from the previous chapters and you should not be able just get rid of it without significantly changing the plot! It shouldn’t be just a prop that characters alternatively hang out in. This one gets really bad in V3 with the Ultimate Research Labs – most of the labs were not really special and not used at all, which is a pity.

The second thing which is provided to us by Daily Life is a motive. Motive is a really broad term for any event that was planned by the Mastermind or organiser of the Killing Game. It can be Practically anything, but what’s important to keep in mind is that it’s something that someone who Wants murder to happen made. It’s basically a stimuli for a murder however it might present.

Some of the cannon motives in Danganronpa, especially in the very first game, are very trivial, while the others are kinda weird. In the THH it was the very point that Junko was making – the Ultimates, so called symbols of hope, will actually abandon morals like any other person for such trivial reasons like secrets and money. In SDR2 and V3 they just kinda decided to get crazy with them. The infamous Despair Disease and that Virtual Reality thingy or even the First Blood perk. Because, well, Ultimately both of the games’ Masterminds didn’t have anything to prove with them. One existed to just simply send players into a state of Despair again and the other was a TV show for fun.

Which leads to this interesting point – the Motives of your Danganronpa-like story should reflect the Mastermind’s ambition or their own motive for making a Killing Game. Also, personally I think it would be nice if every motive was related to the main theme of your story. Since the Mastermind tries to prove something to the cast to “win” over them, the protagonist usually symbolises the opposite idea (ex. Makoto “Hope” vs. Junko “Despair”; Hajime “Future” vs. Izuru & Junko “Past”; Shuichi “Truth” vs. Tsumugi “Lie”), so it would be a great chance to show how Mastermind thinks and how cast and specifically the Protagonist overcomes the motive from the other side of the ideological spectrum. And it works to show the grey area of the spectrum too, but it’s way deeper into themes than into murder mystery itself.

And the final third part that presents in the Daily Life I eloquently named “Social Events”. To clarify, I do not mean like Free Time Events, no. I mean Major Events that were organised by the cast that played into the murder. A lot of people caught on to the importance of this one element of Daily Life, but got stuck on the execution part of it – something I dubbed in my head as “Party Syndrome”. Categorised by the extensive need to write a some sort of party in one too many chapters.

Jokes aside, the Social Events are VERY important for a murder case in every Danganronpa chapter. Basically Social Events is something that characters That Are NOT the Mastermind do that will affect the way the murder will play out. They are often made to be something to combat the Motive or other ways to cope with the reality of being in a killing game. Rarely they are set ups organised by a wannabe killer and when they are, the wannabe killer got beat to it by someone else. Except for all chapter 3 murders. Yeah, one of the absolutely weakest parts of every Dangnronpa games, what a surprise. Not! Absolutely no one is surprised that the most obvious murders have the easiest solution – a person who set the whole thing up. Which is an important lesson – sometimes the thing that makes the most sense is not a good answer for a good murder mystery.

There’s actually a lot of good examples of Social Events in the mainline DR games that aren’t some party. Like the switch of rooms between Sayaka and Makoto, the sauna challenge between Mondo and Kiyotaka, Kaede’s and Shuchi’s Mastermind investigation, Kaito’s and Shuichi’s training, Insect Meet and Greet (technically. Not a party. Kidnapping).

A lot of fangans faced this criticism about how weird it is to throw a party in the killing game, which is absolutely completely fair. Whatever your social event is, please remember that your characters in the story feel the weight of death on them. Even the most carefree and borderline delusional ones. Which unless it’s the point, not all and definitely not most of them. Keep it real, ask yourself would YOU approve of such an event in these circumstances? If not, why would it happen anyway? Or come up with other ways to introduce social activity. Remember the worst your characters can be is passive and reactive in lieu of being active and making decisions.

And that’s about covers Daily Life, in conclusion to the end of the segment I would like to say that Daily Life should highly set up the scene for Deadly Life, they should not exist as two separate entities. Of course when murder happens you are supposed to feel shocked, but to a reader of Danganronpa-like story it’s very obvious that the murders will happen. There’s no point of trying to surprise the audience, they highly expect it. So, set the viewer up properly instead of trying to use an element of shock. But don’t fall into the pit of predictability either. It’s a delicate balance.

DEADLY LIFE

Before we could go into details of Deadly Life part of Danganronpa Murder Mystery inner workings, I want to make a note of the methods they use to conceal the identity of the killer: time of death, murder scene and murder weapon. Or simplier put: “when?”,” where?” and “how?”.

On the most rare occasions it’s also “who?” as in “who’s the victim?”, such as in chapter 5 and 6 of THH and chapter 5 of V3, one of the most convoluted chapters of the entire game trilogy. The reason why it’s so rare is because, at its core, DR Killing Game is a closed murder mystery which means we have a set number of characters we know, so it becomes obvious who’s not with us anymore. It’s a really hard trick to pull off to completely disguise a victim to beyond recognition And not make it obvious who is missing from the cast. In THH it’s achieved by “extra body” of a secret sixteenth’s student who was murdered by a mastermind previously, the whole chapter relied on that lack of knowledge and was a set-up by a mastermind to get rid of one of the players. In the V3’s case however the idea was flipped – now it’s a plan of two students working together to confuse the game and break it, which was supposed to result in beating it entirely. The idea of both is pretty clever and it’s what sets these 5th cases apart so much.

But generally the culprit will try to conceal the true time of death, the true murder scene and the true murder weapon to hide their identity. Or for other reasons (ex. Mondo moved Chihiro’s body to Girl’s changing room in order to keep his secret rather than hide a true murder scene).

You should be aware that no matter how much effort you put into murder, there’s no such thing as a “perfect murder”, there never is. Especially in the DR killing game. The game is NOT fair for the killer, please, understand it. Your killer works alone against a group of innocent students AND against the Mastermind. Mastermind does want to test the participants’ abilities and for them to feel despair of possible looming death. HOWEVER, the mastermind won’t allow the unsolvable. The mastermind wants the game to continue, this is why they provide a case file about a murder. Of course they would leave out some information that would probably reveal the identity of the culprit immediately, but generally the mastermind's goal is to have the innocent party win and win until there’s 2 (or 3, depending on the rules) students remaining.

Also even if it wasn’t that way, it’s nearly impossible to set up a perfect murder, due to a killer and a victim being flawed. Everyone makes mistakes, especially in a high stress situation as murder.

Now we can move on to Deadly Life.

I would love to divide Deadly Life in three parts: a body discovery, investigation and a trial. Very obvious division, but an effective one at that.

When we talk about Body Discovery I of course mean these things:

When was the body discovered?

Who discovered the body?

What circumstances led to discovering the body?

These things are crucial to understand when you write a body discovery, because Discovering a body is one of the important things for the killer in the DR scenario. Until the body is discovered there will be no trial held, which means the killer has no chance of escape even if they kill somebody.

When was the body discovered? Time frame. In the killing game time measured a lot like this daytime/nighttime due to having morning and nighttime announcements and some areas being off-limits during night. Which actually doesn’t matter for Mastermind, I think. Like a lot of rules have literally no effect on the mastermind (like no sleeping outside dormitories). They are made exclusively for the murder mystery part, so guilty students could take advantage of it. When answering this question it’s also important to think “How much time has passed between actual death and the body discovery?” and “Why did it take this long to discover it?” and “Why discovering it at this time would benefit or hinder the killer?”.

Who discovered the body? According to canon DR rules across the trilogy, the body is officially discovered when three non-guilty participants see it. It’s a very special rule to the killing game and stayed a very important part of it across the mainline games. It’s often used to either deduce the killer or prove the innocence of one of the suspects. When you answer this question, think about “Why was it they who discovered the body?” if discovery wasn’t immediate after one person found it why didn’t they tell others?

What circumstances led to discovering the body? Did the group of participants just accidentally stumbled across the body? Did they come looking for this person, because they were missing? Were they doing something unrelated and the body just sort of dropped on them? Did they actively witness death live and where too late to save the person? And most importantly “why is this circumstance important/not important (in case they didn’t do any preparation) to the killer?”

Noticeably every part should include an answer to “Why?”. Killers in DR do not do anything for no reason. BECAUSE IT’S A WASTE OF TIME! If something doesn’t benefit them in some way, do not do it. Very simple.

The Investigation is a mandatory part of the game where you run around and note down all the clues you can find, as the name suggests. It’s always a convenient amount of time when at least one person finds everything there’s to find physically. The main mistake you can make during the investigation is to give out all the information about the circumstances of a murder. You give out hints, not the whole murder and it’s very important. If your audience solves the murder entirely from investigation alone – you’ve failed to write a mystery.

Class Trial – the main event of the Deadly Life, where innocent parties try to find the guilty and where the audience should try to puzzle together the whole mystery. During a class trial some new details about the murder should present themselves as we go along. Like for example in my absolute favourite case 4 for SDR2 where we deduce the layout of the funhouse. Something that we couldn’t understand from investigation alone. But it doesn’t have to be anything big like a whole layout of the building. It can be details of someone’s seeing the victim or the killer and realising it at the moment, the details of how some part of the mechanism works, etc. Also it’s the perfect time to catch slip-ups. The DR community do not usually like when something is solved on pure chance of slip-up, so if you plan on using them, make sure that instead of chance, your characters set up a trap for their suspect to fall in. That would look MUCH cooler than if your culprit just gave out too much info by accident.

A danganronpa case always gets solved because it was something specific to a character that only the culprit could have done, but it is not supposed to be obvious from the start.

Also I really want to bring attention to the victims of the case. Victim is an important part of the case WITH the killer. They should play an active part in the murder. This will further the context to the murder and give more mystery. Was the victim doing something to provoke the culprit? Why did the culprit choose this character as their victim? Did they even have a choice? If the victim was strong, how were they overpowered by the culprit? What if they wanted to be murdered? What if they tried to fight off the murderer and lost? Did the victim have habits a culprit took advantage of? All of that WILL directly affect the murder mystery. Make the victim an active character and make it so no one else but this character can be a victim in this case.

FROM START TO FINISH?

The truth is – murder mystery starts with a new chapter, we just do not know it yet. When you start writing a chapter you should already have an idea of who the culprit and victim are and how you want to carry out a murder in this chapter. Because you need to go through several steps and even the first one – level design with it in mind. It's kinda a question of “what came first, a chicken or an egg?”, but instead of “chicken” and “egg” it’s a “murder plan” and “level design”. Say, I can’t exactly tell if the idea of Kirumi using a ropeway that connects the gym window and a window of Ryoma’s lab through the pool came before or after they designed a level like that. And neither do I know how the hell they had an idea to use a confusing building structure of a funhouse from SDR2 as a “secret weapon” to kill a guy. But what I do know, it was set up from the very beginning of the chapters.

What I do know is, when you already have an idea who the culprit of the case is, try walking them through the chapter as if they were the protagonist. “What made them want to kill now?”, “how did they choose the victim, the timing?”. Construct a “perfect murder” from their POV, divide it into parts and think about what can go wrong? Because something always goes wrong. Maybe rules will affect their plan, or there will be some witnesses the culprit wasn’t expecting. If the whole thing was actually a freak accident – how would they react and improvise? How can you involve other characters into that murder otherwise?

Just start somewhere and answer your questions “what’s next?” on the way. When you write it it may seem genius and convoluted or maybe on the flip side, too simple and obvious. So my advice is to have a story “beta-testers”. When you finish the draft of a full chapter – send it for a reading to someone who could provide you with feedback on the quality of the mystery. They will tell you if you are being an idiot. If you work completely alone then it gets real hard to judge the story.

#> tired writes #I GUESS???#there's more than 3k words #but it's still kinda small because in theory there's a lot to expand on but I already put out thoughts I wanted so idc enough

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anneapocalypse · 1 year

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They’re all pretty related, so in case you want to merge or skip some: I’m curious about 9, 20, 21, and 22 for 🔥 choose violence 🔥

For the 🔥choose violence 🔥 ask game!

Disclaimer: provocative name aside, I am not actually trying to be mean here, these are just my opinions offered for Entertainment Purposes™️, and I’m not mad at anyone who has a different opinion.

9. worst part of canon

The lack of forethought about representation when the series began. The first game was like, "Seven skin tints! The dark ones looks Bad in our engine! Your family is white no matter what! Brown people are from Over There somewhere! Asians????" Since then, I think the games have each improved on that situation, with increasingly better character creators, more diverse companions, and a more diverse world generally. But I think that there's still a lot lacking, and part of that is because the first installment laid a pretty weak foundation, so all subsequent canon is having to correct for better representation rather than building on a strong start. A few big things I would love to see in DA:D are a better variety of hair textures and styles, a better variety of Asian features in the CC, and more Asian (coded) characters in the world generally since that's an area where it's really been lacking. (Lighting that doesn't wash out medium skin tones to ghosts wouldn't hurt either 😉 but when it comes to video game lighting I assume that we'll just be trading one problem for another. I look forward to experiencing a New Problem.)

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

Inquisition's Too Many Collectibles. I don't mind collectibles, especially when there's an actual reward for collecting them, but Inquisition just has too many. Was it really necessary for us to discover landmarks and regions? Like, could those not have been the same thing? It's fun to treasure hunt and everything but did we need to hunt for astrariums and shards and mosaic tiles and bottles? None of those things are bad on their own, but there's such a thing as Too Much, and I think Inquisition crosses that line somewhere.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

Marrying Alistair to become Queen! Like, that's fine if that's the ending you want. Me, I've romanced Alistair multiple times and I've never felt like becoming Queen Cousland was like, the Ultimate Ending to that story. My first ever Warden, Jolene, was a Cousland who romanced Alistair, and while I'd watched Mr. Apocalypse play parts of the game, I was unspoiled for the romance, so I wasn't gunning for any particular ending, and because Alistair clearly didn't want to be king and because he seemed so uncertain of what would happen to their relationship (despite her being a perfectly valid candidate for queen), Jo ended up deciding to let Anora keep the throne and ride off into the sunset with Alistair. I wanted a happy ending for that first run and to me, that seemed the happiest for both of them.

Since then I've also done a tragic Alistair romance with an Aeducan, who starts out a real asshole and has kind of a redemption arc as a Warden, culminating in her giving Alistair the throne because she believes it's his destiny, and sacrificing herself to kill the archdemon because she knows she can never be his queen. I loved that one too! It was so juicy.

I'm not opposed to Queen Cousland or anything, I just remember a time when it was so venerated as the ending for Origins. Really, I just don't think of any outcome in an RPG that way. What I enjoy is exploring all the possibilities.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

Once again, consider "everyone" to be a bit hyperbolic, but I am really, really interested in the politics of the setting, something I think maybe a lot of fans consider to be boring or "not that deep." 😂 Dragon Age does not always handle its power and oppression narratives perfectly, for sure, but I also think a lot of the worldbuilding shows a level of understanding of structural power that it maybe doesn't always get credit for. When a group is marginalized in this setting we can identify actual systemic barriers to social advancement for that group, not just "people being mean" on an individual level like you sometimes see in lazier narratives. Orlais isn't just fancier and snootier than Ferelden; it actually has more barriers to upward mobility in place! Society is more stratified, and power is more concentrated, even though both nations are monarchies.

I love the fantasy politics--of people in day to day life, of factions, of nations, of religion. I love it because, at its best, Dragon Age does have some interesting things to say about the nature of power. It's easy to say "Chantry bad" or "nobility bad," but to me it's much more interesting to explore why these institutions function the way they do, the ways in which they concentrate power, and the means they employ to keep it. And controversial statement, maybe, but you can't effectively explore the politics of revolution and social change without understanding the structures you're trying to change. Sera's right about one thing: it's not as simple as just lopping off the top.

#ask anne #peforby #ask meme #choose violence ask game #dragon age critical #blunders of thedas #thedas politics

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paulinedorchester · 2 months

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A question for people who are on Facebook (which I'm not): Is it as bad as it looks? And how is Facebook Marketplace as a sellers' platform?

(This is a bit of a shaggy dog story. Please bear with me.)

When my mother died in 2016, she left a will naming me as the heir to all of her property, but which didn't spell out what that property consisted of. She also left a vast array of personal effects in such a complete state of disorder that I'm still making discoveries, the most recent of which is that I've inherited four burial plots at a cemetery in Woodbridge, New Jersey, more than 800 miles (almost 1300 km) from where I live, but only about 30 miles from New York City, where she was born and raised. (She inherited them from my grandmother, who in turn inherited them from my grandfather, who spent part of his childhood on a farm in that area. As I've mentioned, most of my great-grandparents emigrated to this country for the specific purpose of farming.)

I had about six weeks of wrangling with the cemetery staff, who were initially unwilling to admit that there was any record of anyone in my family ever having owned grave sites there. Last week I finally pulled out the big guns — that is, I used the word "attorney" in a sentence — and within ninety minutes they had miraculously located the record of my mother's ownership and acknowledged me as the current owner.

Now they're telling me that it will be impossible for me to sell the plots, and that I should either re-assign them to the cemetery (yeah, right) or donate them to a synagogue in their area. While the latter is a possibility, I want to try to sell them myself first. I've found sales listings for plots in the same cemetery on five different platforms. It seems to me that I'll need to list this property in at least three of them.

One of them will be eBay. (Of course!)

There are at least two platforms entirely devoted to the sale or other transfer of burial plots, mausoleum vaults, etc. One looks to me like a fly-by-night operation and charges sellers huge fees just to post listings; the other is a little more professional-looking and reasonable, and is a possibility.

The average Tumblrite might not... um, might be too young to remember that back in the 2000s and early 2010s, Craigslist had a reputation as being mainly a place to go to buy sex. I don't know to what extent they've cleaned up their act. In any case, the site seems to be organized so that listings posted in a particular geographic area are seen more or less exclusively by people in the same region, so that's not very useful to me.

That brings us to Facebook Marketplace.

As my followers may have gathered, I'm not a huge fan of social media, and a lot of that has to do with my perceptions of Facebook. To me, it has always looked like a 24/7 cesspit, run by people who simply don't give a shit. But in researching various topics online over the years, I've learned that there's a lot of valuable content on Facebook (content that apparently belongs to Facebook once you post it there? Is that right?), and also that, increasingly, you have to be logged in to Facebook in order to actually look at it. Which means that you have to have a Facebook account — complete with a dashboard and a feed, and people you follow, or whatever it is that one does on Facebook.

Such an account, of course, is something you need in order to use Facebook Marketplace. So I'm asking you: how bad is Facebook, really? And how good is Facebook Marketplace? What is their fee structure like?

And how much trouble is all of this? I'm on LinkedIn; It was a lot of trouble to set up that page, but I did it because I was hoping that it would be helpful to me in finding a job. It has been totally fucking useless, and I'm reluctant to put all of that effort again into something that isn't going to accomplish anything — or that will be, well, unpleasant.

So, what has your experience on Facebook been?

Thanks in advance, as always.

#social media #facebook #facebook marketplace

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emchant3d · 8 months

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Though the keysmash WIP intrigues me, I gotta ask about "sigh" (although if you feel like you want to share about both, I certainly won't stop you)

congratulations you picked what might be the angstiest options on the list and that's a talent! "sigh" is actually the one fic on there that isn't steddie I think - it's a royjamie fic from ted lasso lmaoooo but! here's a snip!

Jamie isn’t a stranger to taking a hit on the pitch. Can’t be as good as he is, as big a prick as he is, without getting accustomed to the taste of grass in his teeth.

He sees it coming this time, at least - feels the heat bearing down on him from right field as he moves the ball across the turf, knows if he can just get around this little dick from Man City and send the ball to Dani they’ll score before the impact comes, and he’s moving as quick as he fucking can which is fucking saying something–

But it comes faster than he thought it would, and this shit - it ain’t about the game, is it, can feel the edge of real anger in the way the guy’s shoulder bashes into him, legs tangled with his and sending him slamming down hard and something in him pops and his chest is all pain and he can’t breathe and there’s red and–

And then everything goes blurry.

the keysmash one is steddie but it's VERY heavy so it'll go under a cut. I wanted to play around with the idea that I've seen circling around that after all the upside down issues are resolved, Steve struggles to find a place in the group when he's no longer needed as muscle or a tank, and it got dark.

Warnings for suicidal thoughts, self harm, discussion of an overdose, and a suicide attempt. Anyone reading this PLEASE take care of yourself and do not click this read more if those topics are triggering for you. Please note that while these warnings are relevant, Steve will not die. This will have a happy ending. But the happy parts will not be found below this read more.

He’d thought about a gun, but it would be too loud - and he doesn’t own one besides, and what’s he going to do, ask Nancy? No way. He could buy one, but he’d have to leave the house for that, and if he’s not left for groceries in weeks, he’s definitely not leaving for something as stupid as buying a damn gun.

Rope, maybe, but he’s never been good with knots and he doesn’t know what in the house is structurally sound enough, and that sounds like way too much effort anyway, and so - this will do.

He has a plan. He’s got it all figured out. He didn’t know when he would do it, but well. Tonight seems as good as any other night.

No one is coming. No one cares. No one thinks of him and so why is he putting it off? Why is he delaying the inevitable?

He decides the tub is the best place. Only place, maybe. If he fills it first, makes it so the mess falls into the water and can easily drain away, that’s best. He’ll be careful - he’ll do his best to keep it all in the water, to not drip red on the porcelain. He knows how badly it will stain. And he doesn’t want to cause trouble, not with this. He wants this to be quick and painless for his friends (can he call them that? They haven’t spoken in weeks. He and Eddie were never close and the kids don’t come visit anymore and Nancy has Jonathan and Robin–

Robin–

He can’t think about Robin.)

He doesn’t want this to be traumatizing. He wants to slip away from them like he’s slipped out of the group, mostly forgotten. He’s cleaned the house top to bottom, emptied the fridge and the pantry, left everything pristine. The bathroom will be the only mess, and he wants to keep that as minimal as possible, so. This is the best way. The only way.

He thinks it’ll probably be his parents who find him, eventually. If they make their way back home any time soon. He opens the bathroom window to help with the smell since it will probably be a while, but when it’s time he’ll keep the door closed, keep it contained.

He starts the hot water and goes to get a knife from the kitchen.

#answered #wip tag game

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jorrmungandr · 9 months

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(￣﹃￣)

Ugh, man, I slept okay last night, but I was interrupted by a cramp.

It's so embarrassing to go from horrible, agonizing pain back to feeling compeltely fine in like 30 seconds. Still have a little twinge, it was right on the back of my calf, very odd.

Workin' from home again today. Don't know how much I'm really gonna get done in these last two days before my long vacation. I get 11 days off in a row! All next week, and then monday of the following week for New Years Day.

I've been getting back into Warhammer 40k lately, just a bit. Someone I follow on tumblr (you know who you are :P) got really into it recently, mostly Necrons because of some books (The Infinite and The Divine, I believe). That got me curious, so I looked up what's new. Apparently they're on the TENTH edition now, which is wild. There are a bunch more Imperial factions... and exactly one new Xenos faction (space dwarves are back!).

I was super into Warhammer when I was like 7-10 years old. Not, like, playing the game, obviously, but reading rulebooks and lore and whatnot. I remember I somehow had a Citadel Miniatures Catalogue for like 1997, used to just sit around looking through it. Plus a bunch of issues of White Dwarf, of course. I was way into Chaos Space Marines, I got that codex and absolutely loved it. Had so much cool art and little snippets of fiction.

40k was in its second edition, and I remember with third edition came out and started introducing these wild new plastic model kits. Almost everything was metal back then. That edition change was the first big attempt to simplify the game, as it was wildly complicated before. The vehicle rules were incomprehensible, many units had whole pages of special rules, there were tons of percentile tables to roll on, scatter dice, etc. But third edition slimmed everything down and introduced a lot of suffocating structure to army rules that I didn't like.

Looking at the new rules, it seems like things have swung back in the other direction a bit in the intervening years. Or, at least, they've ended up back there in the latest course correction. Army-building rules are very loose, and all the rules about resolving combat are very simple now. The focus of complexity is on these like... tactical maneuvers, which I still don't quite understand. Seems to works similarly to how magic worked in Warhammer Fantasy back in the day.

Speaking of, I'm still mad that that game is essentially dead. Age of Sigmar is lame. Lame, I say! It seems bizarre that GW decided to kill it when that Total War game was gaining steam, but whatever.

Anyway, I haven't like bought any models, I'm not going crazy. Just bought an Adeptus Mechanicus codex. I like the look of their models, it's really cool that they're finally a proper army faction. Especially the Kastelan Robots, I love the idea that they just... found these ancient, invincible robots and strapped guns to 'em. In 2nd edition, there would definitely be some insane rules where you had to roll to maintain control of them or they'd wander in a random (scatter dice!) direction every turn....

#just posting #warhammer 40k #warhammer #pext toast

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ragnarssons · 2 years

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Hi! I've been following you for a while, and you really have great takes on TLOU. I would like to add my two cents on something that I feel is rarely discussed. It’s a big leap to assume that even if the Fireflies had a working vaccine, they would save the world. The Fireflies were founded to fight against FEDRA. I really don’t believe they would make it their priority to take a selfless and altruistic journey across a very dangerous world to look for random people to immunize. I believe they would vaccinate as many of themselves as they could with their scarce resources, then they would weaponize the Cordyceps against FEDRA, and let the Infected do the job of clearing out FEDRA - and with a lot of collateral damage in the process. I think it’s unfair to say Joel doomed humanity when we can't know what the Fireflies would have done next. (I made a post about it too, this above is a TL;DR lmao https://www.tumblr.com/csg-iii/711893419018043392/i-think-something-that-is-often-overlooked-when?source=share)

Hello! Well I'm glad my daily rants are useful and are not super annoying to everyone lmao. And yes, I totally agree with you on that stance. The fact that so many people act as if it would have gone like: "oh shoosh, Ellie is dead but LOOK MIRACLE CURE IT'S WORKING!! Quick, let's all go and save the world and give it to everyone, and yayyy, civilization is back like it used to be yayyyy! Everyone is happy happy, yayyy!" is actually hilarious lmao. They kinda forget that The Fireflies is basically a militia, armed with guns and exploding people all around the US QZs just to prove a point against FEDRA. Yknow, the same people who give bombs to a 17yo expecting her to blow people up "for the greater good". That the world has been going nowhere but down for 20 years, which is basically the equivalent of a whole generation of people who have never known the world as it used to be pre-infection. So you gotta think about several things, first of all, how scattered people are, in groups that have been so dissasociated from anything having a social structure that they either turned into robbers, thiefs, murderers, cannibals, or even worse (ironically, as seen on TLOU2). We see it on the episodes with Kathleen: even when "the good guys" overthrow FEDRA and win, they are so used to barbarism that they still inflict death and torture to everyone. They repeat the same thing over and over again, it's just the leaders that change, but the world is so cutthroat, so violent, that it's ultimately how the world works. And then to believe that The Fireflies would just "save the woooorld" with the cure, you gotta believe they're Good Guys. But like, Marvel level Good Guys. More than that. Disney Princesses level of Good Guys. Which is not at all what the story is, not at all how the first game and the show set things up when it comes to the whole world building of their universe. The problem tho, is how TLOU2 literally took this grey era of unknown and speculation among everyone, and made it into the Black and White story of human kind and how JOEL and only JOEL "doomed the world". Because literally to justify the second game, Neil Druckmann went like 1) oh yeahhh the cure woulda totally worked! 2) oh yeahhhh Joel totally is the one who doomed the world, the Firefly doc was THE ONLY ONE who could do it and the Fireflies just wanted to be cute baby butterflies distributing the vaccine all around the woooorld. But let me not explain the logistic of it all, at all. Also, don't pay attention to how I'm literally retconning the whole first game to say things like that. TLOU the game and the show literally set up this idea that the cure is meant to be used as a counter-attack: because literally the Fireflies say so themselves, they're scattered, weakened, they're losing against FEDRA. Which serves to justify how quickly they want to deal with Ellie, but then also shows HOW FAR they're willing to go for this "greater purpose" they've inflated their big egos with. Buuut obviously, TLOU2 apologists took whatever bs Druckmann said to justify his manichean bullshit take on this story (again, because we gotta follow Abby and sympathise with her and her storyline), and ran with it, because somehow, it was more comfortable for them to paint Joel and only Joel as the bad guy. And then they pretend that TLOU2 is this huge gRoUNdBrEaking, grey and complex story hahahaahahaha. On this, TLOU was eons better constructed and set to raise a shit ton of questions by the end of it.

#answered #csg-iii #tlou2 spoilers #anti tlou2

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watching-pictures-move · 1 year

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Movie Review | Miami Vice: Calderone's Return (Glaser & Colla, 1985)

This series has been defined in part by its maddening roster of guest stars, with the likes of Bruce Willis, Pam Grier and Dennis Farina in memorable turns, to name a few. I'm into the second season now*, but I wanted to come back to this one, as one guest star in particular has lingered in my memory: Jim Zubiena, who plays the assassin hired by Calderone to a number of his enemies, including Crockett. Zubiena, a professional shooter initially hired to teach Don Johnson and Philip Michael Thomas proper weapons handling**, was pushed into the role by Michael Mann, and his non-actor background plays a big part in his effectiveness in the role. Those other guest stars bring to their roles their presence, bringing their personalities and star qualities to the material. One of the reasons Willis is so memorable in his episode is that his formidable charisma is applied to a character so unheroic. (A weapons dealer who sells to terrorists and beats his wife. Just a bad guy in all respects.)

Zubiena does not have the same star qualities, so instead he brings a certain absence, of charisma, of distinguishing features, leaving only an eerie blankness. No humanity, all killer instinct and craft, a pure instrument of death. His appearance, curly hair, shooting glasses and a slight smile, causes any facial features to recede into the nondescript. His lack of allegiances, having worked every side of every conflict, give him a sense of total amorality. Even his weapons handling (the deployment of the Mozambique drill, heretofore unseen on television, and holding guns overhand to control the recoil) is simultaneously unusual and practical, operating on a hidden logic not spelled out to the audience, like the imminence of death in an Italian horror movie. Even when he's not on screen, he haunts the proceedings, a spectral presence with an unsettling void at his centre.

Unlike Brother's Keeper, this aired in two parts, with an interesting diptych structure, both halves being punctuated by off-kilter, unceromonious violence and ending with songs featuring soaring vocals (Russ Ballard's "Voices" in the first part, Tina Turner's "What's Love Got to Do With It?" in the second). There is plenty to enjoy in both, but as Zubiena only appears in the first, and the second depends on a relationship between Tubbs and Calderone's daughter that can't be fully fleshed out in the runtime, I can't help but prefer the earlier half.

*I've found the series almost uniformly excellent, with only two subpar episodes so far. "Made for Each Other", which makes the mistake of foregrounding the comic relief characters of Switek and Zito and as such plays with little tension, although it does provide the scene where Noogie's stripper girlfriend grabs him by the ears and shouts in his face "I wanna see Mickey Mouse!" And "Nobody Lives Forever", in which Crockett (re)learns the age old lesson of putting one's bros before their hoes, and which has the misfortune of coming after "The Home Invaders", which features more unpredictable and sadistic villains (and shows Castillo crack a case in real time), and before "Evan", which explores Crockett's vulnerability much more interestingly and tackling the subject of homophobia with unexpected sensitivity.

**Apparently Johnson took to it better than Thomas, and this was a motivation behind the latter's weapons of choice. You can hear Zubiena talk about the experience here.

#film #movie review #miami vice #miami vice: calderone's return

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the-firebird69 · 2 months

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So my grandson came up and he said I had to make a bricks **** **** and we found out it's on a block and we think we know which one is pretty big. And it stinks also it will attract its attention to the my limestone castle and he said it'll attract terrorists and he was trying to say tourists but in this case it might attract terrorists and the thing attracts flies and they hang around and they come back and they don't see anything they just keep checking it's gross so it suggested he put it like a poison pond out there and you can see the flies going over somewhere and not coming back but wow this is amazing. I don't think I've ever heard of anything like this and he says it makes it stronger and my grandson knew it would and that's really knowledge that people don't have and I've seen it in some places and he says he saw it once and whipped it at someone because it was hard as a rock and it didn't explode sometimes they explode like dirt bombs and he says you lucked out emily and she is in horror he says don't pull a gun on me i'll stick it up your **** just leave it there and really I don't need to pull a gun on me this is a crazy world there's a lot of insane things happening and my grandson is adding to it and making it massively nutty he says the limestone castle really and look what all that stuff went to and I do say what you're saying thank you for that by the way. I needed that pick me up and something to do that would put this idiot dirt bag down he's probably gonna go there 'cause he knew what's the attention and he'll probably call him the Lord of the flies and I'll start the movie off. Yeah he's handing it to the right person the classic. Camilla is gonna run she might get elected but I feel that she's afraid which is OK and it's OK for her not to and she's been is going to take Trump's place so wait a minute what's the story here it would be that he might win and she's been will take his place using his body and he will be interned by Tommy who's an idiot putting people in the pyramids it's a first level pyramid and a friend says those are weapons and that one's gonna go missing and this is how ok we noticed that he's fighting Dave and they're big boys it's gonna be a big fight.

pres biden

and we fight too not mchnot like this and hehse are animals real ones. no order structure and no hierarchy are a messs. and he said it today macs at my stuf or daves i ran to it saw it called and he is there needed it and they are not ok. now tis is on we helped so mcss are at us and now they visit trumps shithole. oh sorry brick shithouse and my son had him and ahhaahah lol he will try to swap it out and the ladies dont caae need him to bennoyed and sickly and to have it for them. good he will rot now

Kamilla

Olympus

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the-baddest-of-batches · 1 year

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Dar'Aliit: Chapter Eighteen - Good Soldiers (Part 2)

19 BBY Separatist Space

Project Starfall is the file name. I've read it a hundred times but I read it again as R3 pilots the ship. Nidor might hate me. He might not even care about a single human being, but if he's right and this could end the war, I have to succeed.

I want to see this universe at peace more than I could ever want to see Nidor's head roll at his feet.

Starfall is relatively simple, but nothing that looks simple ever is. An active Separatist information hub hidden in the atmosphere of Bespin. From there I just need to steal the drive that contains all of their recent communications. The station has everything from comm chatter to navigation charts, which means that drive will tell us exactly where the Separatists are going and what they're planning. We can get ahead of them, and strike first.

R3 whistles our arrival. I finish the transfer of the map and details to my comms and stand up.

"I'm going to need your help, "I warn R3 as we dock. The gaseous atmosphere outside hides us, but it also hides anything else. I look at the instruments and a quick scan tells me there's nothing outside, yet.

R3 disconnects. We head to the airlock.

I keep my Decee ready as the airlock hisses open. The sound of droids clanging around the interior is immediate. I slip against the wall as they pass, clunking down a hall. I don't expect there to be much else here other than droids. This is a small station, but it's key.

I point to the nearest wall jack. "I need to know who is on what levels," I tell R3. He trundles off and jacks into the wall.

In a few seconds a full schematic appears on my HUD, complete with blinking red lights where the droids are located. Two patrols on this level and the one below. The whole station is built like an orb with the comms room in the center. The heaviest concentration is there. I'll need to draw them out.

I check my pack and find a couple of grenades.

"R3, I need structural integrity."

A second map appears. The rooms below us are the weakest. I nod and move out to the hall, checking for clankers.

"Stay here," I instruct, "and don't get found."

An affirmative beep. I head off.

Avoiding patrols is simple. B1's have nothing but scrap for brains, but I stay alert. The Sep's don't like to leave things under guarded. Especially not something as important as this.

I slip into a lower hall. A heavy chunk-chunk-chunk comes around the corner. I hold my breath. SBD's pass by. There's the big guns. A couple of spindly droidekas roll after them, popping up occasionally to lurk.

They're going to be a problem.

The hall clears. I run the opposite way. There's storage rooms down here. It looks mostly like spare parts and weapons. A few well-placed bombs and everything is moving smoothly.

Now I just have to get clear.

The door opens and I whirl around. Two B1's stand illuminated in the outside light.

"Hey, what're you doing in here?"

"That's a clone!"

I snap up my decee. Trusty old thing. Two well placed bolts and they're both slag. I lower my weapon and exhale. I can't risk being found, so I drag them into the room and prop them up. Then I check the corridor before moving on.

I must tread carefully. Any misstep could spell disaster. I comm up to R3.

"Send me the quickest route to the comms room."

My HUD blinks and a new map appears as I move carefully down the hall. A small blue line traces the lines through the halls and around the back of the post. I note a ladder that leads up and over the comms center. It's marked.

"Thanks," I mutter.. A few quick paces take me across the hall and into a service corridor. It's cramped and damp from the condensation of Bespin's atmosphere. It reeks of gas and oil. Thank goodness for helmet filters.

I shimmy along the corridors and occasionally duck out of the way of service droids. I can see my own self moving along the map, I'm halfway there.

"R3, status update?"

A couple of beeps tells me all I need to know. The comms center is still crawling with droids but hopefully that'll change once I detonate everything.

Even still, I'm going to be drawing fire. That's just the job. I shimmy into another corridor and hear a clank under my feet. I look down. Through a faint vent I can see the bottom of the post. The thruster room.

Looking up, my comm blinks. I tap it and keep moving.

"Lieutenant," it's the Captain's voice. "I've been informed to pull you out. You must return immediately."

"Little late," I mutter. "I'm knee deep in this."

"You need to come back. We're deploying immediately to Coruscant. General's orders."

I look down the hall. Orders, huh? I take a deep breath. "Give me an hour, sir."

"That's all I can give you, Kian."

"Copy that." I turn off my comm, and I mute any further messages from anyone other than R3. His inquisitive beep comes across.

"Of course I'm not pulling out!" I snap back. "I'm halfway there. I'll be in and out in less than an hour."

I get a disgruntled answer. Let the droid curse me out. This information could mean the end of the war. I don't care what riot's going on, or what senator thinks their life trumps the galaxy. I need to finish this.

"Just keep an eye on the time," I finally tell R3. I keep moving. "The General can yell at me after I win his war for him."

Despite the confusion of tunnels the map keeps me on track until I reach the service ladder. Hooking my decee into its holster, I climb. The top floods with lights and I am looking down a vent shaft into the heart of the whole operation.

Droids, B1's and SBD's patron around a large round console. Other droids sit, manning the console.

I could take them down with an EMP, but I'd risk frying the computer. No, there's a simpler approach. I pull out the detonator on my belt and check that it's still primed and ready. I press the button.

It's a slow rumble, but I feel the ground shake. Somewhere below, a Klaxon goes off and droids scramble up. Perfect. The droids are scrambling to answer the alarm, but that also means some squads are mobilizing to protect the command center. But I have a plan for that.

I haul off the grate, crawl up and straddle it, then drop a smoke grenade into the middle of the center. With a hiss the room fills with thick grey smoke. I toggle the low visibility on my HUD, and drop down.

As soon as I land, I'm on the offensive. I haul the first B1 I can see out of its chair and bash it in its head.

"What's going on!" Droids cry out. I slip into the unoccupied chair and pull out the jack I was given. Fumbling, I plug it in and key up the computer as quickly as I can. It won't be long till they discover me.

"There," I mutter and key the information to transfer.

R3 beeps at me over the comms.

"I am well aware."

A blaster bolt glances off the console and I whip around. One of the SBD's hulks in the shadows. Kriff me for not bringing anti armor rounds. I cannot let them damage that console.

I leap up and out of the chair, firing back. A B1 fires out of the shadows. I follow the line of fire, ducking, and find it. A shank to the head and it goes down like scrap. Bolts skim the floor near my boots. It's that stanging SBD's again.

More beeping.

"I said, I know!" A bolt sears past my head. I fire back and duck. The smoke is clearing and the droids are closing in. I have no choice but to back up against the console, firing back rapidly. Ducking behind a chair, they pepper the back of it with bolts.

R3 is still trying to warn me I'm running out of time. The droids that left to inspect the structural damage will be alerted and turn around at any moment. I know. I know. I know. I set up my blaster on the back of the chair and mow down a few smaller droids. I don't have time to deal with that big clanker.

The console dings. Finally.

B1's close in. I vault over the back of the chair and slam one in the chest with my boot. It topples and take down two more. The SBD fires past my head and the bolts sear the console.

More alarms go off. I bolt for the jack and grab it. Please don't be corrupted. I turn and narrowly avoid a bolt to the face. It takes a chunk off my helmet, though. I can't see the door.

A heavy clunk sounds below me.

The thruster room. I don't need this place anymore. Reaching back, I grab my last EMP and lob it hard. Droids go down yelling and shaking as electricity grips them. I grab another charge and stick this one to the floor, then I lunge for a chair, dodging fire from the remaining droids. I jam my finger on the detonator button.

With a roar and a flash, the room shakes. I peek out and there it is, my escape.

Klaxons are blaring now. The droid reinforcements are pouring in from the door. I take a running jump and leap through the hole I've created in the floor. It's freefall.

"R#! I yell as I fall. "Bring the ship around under the station, now!"

An affirmative beep is all I need. I'm still in freefall, though. It's at least a fifty foot drop. I grab my decee, snap on the grappling hook as fast I can and fire at the ceiling. It sticks and jerks me to a sudden halt. My arms strain. I'm gonna feel that in the morning.

"Down here!" tinny voices crowd over the hole. There's the fainted chunk-chunk of more droids running in. I look down and slice the cord to fall the last ten feet safely. Rolling, I hit my feet and run for the nearest exit. The thrusters firing around me drown out the sound of the droid's clamoring.

"R3, you in position?"

That's an almost.

"I need you here!" I knock the panel off an exit hatch. It clatters to the floor and I crawl up into the opening. Wind and atmosphere whips around me. There's nothing below except to fall into the crushing gravity of the planet below.

"R3!"

A bolt pings off the wall by my hand. One quick glance and my HUD fills with blips. The droids are here. I've got no choice.

"If I die, this is on you!" I yell and leap out of the exit hatch. The air slams against my body and then I slam against the top of something solid. Two victorious beeps.

"Chakkar," I snap and slide into the top hatch. I drop safely into the ship. R3 waits in the cockpit. I run past him and toward the pilot's seat. "How are we on time?"

Ten minutes to spare. Oh the General is going to love this. I pull out the jack and plug it in quickly to confirm it isn't corrupted. Plans, nav logs, and communications logs all pop up. Last date, two days ago. We've hit the jackpot. I can feel it in my gut. Something is about to change. This clone war might finally be ending.

I exhale, and slump back in my seat. "We got it R3. Let's go."

As soon as we hit hyperspace, I toggle back into Addie;s channel. "We're headed back, sir. We'll be there soon."

It takes a moment, but his grim tone responds. "It's too late."

"Sir?" I got in and out in plenty of time. I know I did. I have the information. This war is on the brink of ending.

Blaster fire echoes across the comm. I start up out of my seat. "Sir!"

There's nothing but static. I can hear only the faintest hum. A familiar hum. The frequency that cut through Hook's chest, through Nyo. My hand is pressed against my chest over my own scar. I end the transmission and whip around.

"R3, how far are we from the Krayt?"

He checks the logs and turns his dome with a short string of beeps. I grab my decee off the console and reload it. "Get us there faster," I snap. My hands are quivering but I'm not afraid anymore. I'm just angry.

Because I knew.

"Execute Order 66."

I almost missed the transmission after getting distracted by Addie's comm, and everything else in my head, but as soon as we drop out of hyperspace, it's the first thing that comes through. A clear directive. An order.

I've done this long enough by now to know, a good soldier chooses which orders to follow. I've been doing it my whole life, whether right or wrong. I should have seen this coming.

The Jedi were always traitors. I of all people would know that. I watched Krell turn us, his own men, against one another, shortly before turning himself. And there is no mistaking what I heard on the Captain's transmission.

The wool is lifted from my eyes. I can see right through the lies that clouded up my head all those years in the trenches. They kept us under their thumb. Told us what they wanted us to believe.

We fight for peace.

A good soldier knows better than to trust blindly.

The ship thuds against the airlock. I step through the doors as the air hisses out. My blaster rests in my hands. I have the information, but I don't need it anymore.

Today, the war is over.

I enter the corridor and red lights flash as klaxons screech. Boots pound down the hallway. Yelling echoes. Blaster fire. Screams.

I stop as a cloaked figure whips around the corridor and stops, face to face with me. Panicked yellow eyes lock with mine and flicker with relief. General Nidor turns off his lightsaber.

He expects me to disobey. The General assumes I will choose what I always have: rebellion.

The voices and boots are closing in, calling out to others. "Cut off the exits!" I recognize Booker's voice. I don't hear Raf.

"He's this way!"

A good soldier chooses what orders to follow. What is right? What is wrong. Who is your enemy?

You are a good soldier.

I know my enemy. I raise my decee and panic returns to the General's yellow eyes. I've seen this panic in so many eyes, so many of them identical to mine. Nidor put that fear into their eyes. Just like Krell did, when they both sentenced us to die. For their peace.

We were fools and pawns. A means to a traitorous end.

I can hear the others closing in. They've cut off escape, and left the general nowhere to go. Nidor ignites his lightsaber and looks back.

"Let me through," Nidor mutters. "That's an order, Kian."

I'm done following blind orders.

This time, I pull the trigger.

This is a day late, I apologize. I got one chapter out and not the other, and totally forgot to update here, but please bear with me! Thank you for your patience and for your support <;3.

Next chapter coming soon...6/9!

Read on Wattpad

Read on AO3

#star wars #clone trooper oc #dar'aliit fanfic #fanfic #read on ao3 #read on wattpad #order 66 #end of the clone wars #jedi oc #tw death #major character death #part two #serialized fiction

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joel-millerr · 3 years

Text

What’s Your Favorite Color?

Chapter Seven of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.2k

Summary: reader is stuck on the Crest with Mando and the kid. what should be an uneventful trip turns into something that changes everyone on board.

Warnings: SMUT! rough sex, oral sex (female receiving), orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, praise kink(?), aftercare, depictions of death, mentions of mental illness (even though the reader doesn’t explicitly say it--it’s more implied), slight spit play?

A/N: ok so this might be the dirtiest thing I've written but I'm just so proud of where this story is going and I hope you guys enjoy. also, the entire chapter takes place on the crest, and it’s one day :)

also big shoutout to @eznova who helped me with this chapter. LOVE U

I worry that your own attachment to the Mandalorian will be your undoing.

That eerie reminder echoes over and over in your mind as you wake up from one of the best nights of your life. It’s hard to control the stupid, shit-eating grin plastered on your face as you lie in Mando’s cot. You’re alone, but his scent—a delicious mix of soap and musk, fill your nostrils and if you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can imagine him laying right next to you, wrapping strong, tree trunk sizes arms around you and placing chaste kisses all over your skin.

You couldn’t have planned falling for Mando so deeply and so quickly as you have, mainly considering that you haven’t known each other for very long, but you know damn well that if given the opportunity, you’d do everything over again.

Stars, you don’t even know what his name is.

What is his first name?

Should you ask him? You don’t want to come off imposing, and there’s a part of you that wants to wait until he chooses to share that information with you, rather than try to wrestle it out of him, but he’s shrouded in mystery, and that just reels you in even more. You really want to pick his brain, figure out what makes him him, but you don’t know if you’ll ever get that chance. There’s the possibility though, that after last night, he’ll be more vulnerable around you. Maybe you’ll both be more vulnerable and inclined to share each other’s pasts. After all, you’ve been pretty intimate with each other.

When you finally decide it’s probably time for you to get out of bed and face the potential awkwardness that could happen between you and Mando, the door to the cubby hole hisses open, with neither the kid nor Mando in sight. Your feet touch down on the cold ship’s floor, and you slip into your boots. Once on your feet, you feel an ache at the apex of your thighs. It stings and you have to basically have to walk with your thighs spread apart in order to ease some of the uncomfortableness between your legs. Every move you make is a reminder of the night before. You can even feel him inside you, stretching your walls to hug him perfectly. Kriff, you’re already wet and you only just woke up.

Hoping a sanisteam will wipe away the crude thoughts from your barely conscious mind, you take to the fresher and wake yourself up with a brisk rinse. Once you’re out and throw on yesterday clothes—you make a mental note to wash your only other garments, you’re about to head up to the cockpit when you hear Mando’s voice. Stopping at the ladder, you listen in on what he’s saying.

“…but you have to agree to go with them if they want you to. Understand?” His’s voice goes quiet for a moment. “Plus, I can’t train you. You’re too…powerful. Don’t you want to learn more of that Jedi stuff?”

It’s a damn shame how last night you had heard his true voice for the first time, unmodulated but still as deep and rough as it sounds with the distortion of his helmet, and probably won’t be privy to it for a while. You wish you could hear him, like really hear him, naked and untapped again but even if you don’t, it’ll just make last night even more significant.

You hear the Child coo in response before hearing Mando’s cadence again. “I agreed to take you back to your own kind, so that’s what I need to do.” There’s a brief pause. “You understand that, right?”

For the first time, you detect some sadness in Mando’s tone. Like he’s trying to reassure not only the kid but also himself that he needs to go through with this, that even though there might be a part of him that doesn’t want to let the Child go, in the end he has no choice in the matter. It tugs at your heartstrings. The Mandalorian, a seasoned warrior, a survivor, a bounty hunter—at war with himself and his own feelings.

You can’t help but feel guilty as well. Ahsoka had warned you that one day, you too would have to make a choice but after last night… It’s no longer as clear-cut as you initially thought it would be. Had this come to you even just six months ago, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. You’d make the choice of being a Jedi, and forgo all attachments and dedicate your life to the Order. It wouldn’t be hard for you to set all your feelings aside—you’ve had many years of practice on that subject, but now things are completely upside down. It’s territory you’ve never been in before and Maker, that terrifies you. The longer you journey with the Mandalorian, the more you become weaved together like vines wrapping themselves around a duracrete structure. Similar to the ancient temples on Naboo, tightening and gripping in every nook and cranny until it’s impossible to separate one without destroying the other.

When you reach the floor of the cockpit, you watch Mando sit ever still in the pilot’s chair, with Grogu seated to his right. Your boots hitting the ground as you walk alerts the Child, his ears twitching in your direction and he giggles excitedly, holding that little durasteel ball in his hands.

“Morning,” you announce as you plop down in the seat to Mando’s left. Grogu peers at you with big eyes and makes grabby hands at you, so lean over and bring him into your lap.

“How long until we reach Coruscant?”

“A day or two,” he answers curtly, keeping his visor glued to the blues of hyperspace through the transparisteel.

“Oh, okay. Looks like we’ll have time to kill then.”

Mando rises from his seat, turns his body to you for just a moment before announcing his leave. “Does your blaster need cleaning?”

“Uh—maybe?”

He offers you a quick dip of the helmet before leaving the cockpit in one swift movement and heading down the ladder. Your eyebrows pull together as you stare at the empty doorway to the little room you and the Child are still seated in. Looking down at him, you whisper, “Why do I get the feeling he’s avoiding me?”

Grogu bats his eyes at you before gently sucking on the ball still firmly gripped in his claws. It’ll always amaze you how attached he is to that sphere. You might never know why it’s so important to him but then again, you suppose that it’s a secret between him and his caregiver.

“I wish I knew what was going on in that mind of his,” you confess—not necessarily to Grogu, but since he’s the only one around, you feel almost compelled to spew your concerns and confusions about everything that’s happened.

“What do we do, little guy? I suppose since you’ve had training, you’ll probably want to be found by a Jedi, right?”

Grogu mumbles something at you and for just a second, you think he might understand you.

“And you’re okay with leaving him?”

He coos almost sadly, and you can hear your heart shattering. This little creature has grown such an attachment to Mando. It’s exactly what Ahsoka said—Mando’s basically his father and truthfully, if your parents were still alive, you couldn’t imagine leaving them to join a group that shuns on attachments. It would take a strength that you couldn’t muster to pull yourself away from them, not after knowing the kind of pain of having to live without them.

“I’m scared, Grogu. Truthfully, I have no idea what to think about all this.”

Of course, he doesn’t say anything. He’s not even really paying attention, too busy staring at the little ball in his hands. It’s okay, though. It’s enough just for you to express your concerns aloud. Your mind can get cluttered if you think about everything all at once. The moments you convey your thoughts verbally, it forces you to focus on what you’re actually saying, rather than all the hypotheticals that bounce around in your head.

“Should I go down there?”

Again, Grogu says nothing, he doesn’t even look up at you. Eyeing where Mando sat just minutes ago, you feel like a teenager. You’re both adults, you can’t just tiptoe around each other, it’s not like there are many places to hide on the Crest, anyway. If he won’t come to you, you’ll just have to go to him.

Holding Grogu close to your chest, you take to the ladder and head down, being mindful not to accidentally hit his head on the rungs. Just as you reach the hull, you notice Mando facing one of the crates, his blaster completely taken apart, wiping the coil with a dirty rag. Placing Grogu in the bunk to your left, you lean on another crate and watch Mando dissect his weapon and clean every little bit of residue off his gun.

“How’s your shoulder?” Mando asks, back still turned to you.

“It’s fine, kinda aches a bit but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you answer, transfixed at the way Mando meticulously cleans his weapons. He’s nothing if not thorough.

“Mmm,” he hums low in his throat. The sound reminds you of the mind-altering grunts he made the night before when he was balls deep inside you, causing you to rub your thighs together at the memory. That sanisteam was supposed to get of these filthy thoughts.

It becomes suddenly very awkward in the hull and you get the feeling that you might be lingering. He clears his throat a few times but says nothing. There may not come another time where you could try to learn more about Mando, so now seems like right time. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you muster up the strength to finally ask him, “You were born on Mandalore?” Keeping your eyes down, staring at your feet because you just don’t have the nerve to look at him.

“No, Aq Vetina.”

“Oh… I thought—”

“I was a foundling.”

“Like Grogu.”

“Yes,” he answers deep in his throat.

It suddenly makes sense why Mando saved him from the Empire, and why Grogu’s still in his care. He sees himself in the Child. He sees the vulnerability, the childlike innocence and he understands that he is responsible for this little baby, at least until you find a Jedi that is.

“Do all Mandalorians hide their faces?” You ask curiously.

There’s not much that you know about Mandalorians. The few things you do know about them is that they’re almost impossible to find due to the Empire nearly wiping them all out, and that they’re some of the best—if not the best warriors in the galaxy. Given the fact that Mando hasn’t removed his helmet once since you’ve been around (until last night), you can assume he take his Creed very seriously, and can’t help but wonder if the Child has been fortunate to catching a glimpse of his face.

“No,” he answers methodically.

Already feeling like you’re pushing the limits of how many questions you can ask before he finally decides to shut you down and stops being so forthcoming, the genuine curiosity is sadly too strong for you to pull back. It’s not like you’ve ever had this much time around someone so secretive and mysterious as Mando, and there’s just too many pieces to this puzzle that you want to so desperately put together.

“So, why do you do it?”

“This is the—” he begins, but a chuff of air slips through your lips before he can finish speaking. “What?” He asks annoyingly, turning his body around to face you.

“I don’t know…” Your hands motion around you in an effort to find the right words. “I mean you did take off your helmet in front of me last night.”

“I did.” The words come out through gritted teeth.

“So, is the rule that you can’t take off the helmet or that you can’t show your face? Because there is a difference between the two.”

This must catch him off guard because Mando stays silent for a ridiculously long time. The two possibilities are that he’s considering what you’re saying—which you’re beginning to doubt, or he thinks you’re totally out of line and is choosing to ignore you. You have this bad habit of being pretty blunt and somewhat insensitive with the way you express yourself and that’s caused you some issues with others in the past, but it’s always gotten the results you wanted. Honestly, someone like Mando will probably have tough skin, so you’re pretty sure he can handle whatever you throw at him.

“When did this become an interrogation about what I choose and choose not to do?” He grumbles, resting his hands on his utility belt.

“Doesn’t really seem like you’re choosing…” you mumble under your breath, kicking the ground and keeping your eyes to the floor.

“What did you say?” He asks defensively, squaring his shoulders and then taking a step forward. Out of habit, you lean back further against the crate.

“I’m not trying to offend you,” you clarify, using the bottom of your foot to kick off the crate, and straightening your back. “I’m just trying to understand—”

“Why?”

“Well, we’re kinda stuck with each other for who knows how long, so we should take this time to get to know each other, don’t you think?” Raising an eyebrow at him, you rest your hands on your hips, waiting for him to either deflect or finally let his guard down and talk like two normal adults.

“I don’t see how that matters.”

Your jaw literally drops, completely dumbfounded. It during moments like this that you so desperately wish you could see what his facial expression is. Why does he continuously try to keep a distance between himself and every living thing in the galaxy? Is he scared of being vulnerable around someone else? That his reputation as a hardened Mandalorian warrior would be compromised if he so much as shared a tiny bit of information with you? Does he think a Mandalorian would come and strike him down for having his own opinion about his Creed? That questioning the only thing he knew since he was a child would be considered sacrilegious?

It’s pretty silly how worked up you’re getting right now, but the way Mando dismisses you, it stirs up that anger inside you that is so hard to control. He’s always pushing your buttons, just as you push his—only this time, you simply wanted to know a little more about him. Is that too much to ask for?

Do you continue to press him?

Do you let it go?

Announcing your defeat by drawling out a sigh, your hands drop to your sides, looking down at the ground because you can’t be bothered to look at him in the visor anymore. “All right, well I’m going to head up to the cockpit and um…” You try to come up with a quick excuse to leave the room as it’s becoming more and more awkward with each passing second, but unfortunately, nothing comes to mind. You result to turning on your heel and climbing up the ladder without another word, not bothering to wait and see if Mando comes up with something to say before you disappear.

Once you reach the doorway, the blues of hyperspace nearly blind you, and your hand comes up to give shade to your eyes as they adjust to the sudden change in brightness. You’ll need to find something to keep your mind occupied until you enter Coruscant airspace, because you’ll quite frankly drive yourself insane not doing anything, so you walk over to the control panel in front of Mando’s chair and begin running some diagnostics to see at what capacity the hyperdrive is operating at, see if there’s any leakage that you could fix inside the ship and any little thing that might need some maintenance. After running a few tests, you realize that unfortunately, Peli had fixed pretty much every little issue with the ship, so there really is nothing to fix in order to keep yourself busy.

Fuck.

Feeling defeated, you fall back onto your bum and sit on the cold floor, back leaning against one of the walls, resting your right arm on one of the passenger seats. You’ve always hated silence. With nothing to distract yourself with, your mind always ends up wandering, overanalyzing every little minute detail of your life, meticulously going over each moment in time and thinking of all the ways you could have done something different, how the choices you made were wrong, how things would be better off if you did x instead of y. It gnaws at you, until the only thing you feel like you can do to stop the voices inside your mind is to scream and lash out, causing pain to yourself and everyone around you.

Is this the work of the Dark Side or is it just your unstable mind?

Is it both—working together and tearing you apart from the inside out? Slowly picking your brain apart, section by section, nerve ending by nerve ending until all that’s left of you is the worthlessness of your existence, a make-up of atoms and tissue that can’t be controlled or understood?

Stars, you’re doing it again.

You can feel your mind retreating deeper and deeper into itself, wanting to disappear from all of this. Making yourself as small as you can, you pull your knees close to your chest, head dropping down between them while your palms rub the back of your head, grabbing fistfuls of your hair and clenching so hard you think you might end up ripping some right out of your head.

The harder you pull, the more anxious you become. Heartrate picking up steadily and the lump in your throat growing in size, it’s as if the space around you is screaming, that everything is spinning, which could explain all this anxiety you suddenly feel when in reality, it’s all just in your head. The cockpit is dead silent, there isn’t even the slightest sound coming from down in the hull. Everything is deafeningly still and yet you feel it’s all too loud, and you just want to scream. Scream until you feel your vocal cords explode or until there’s no air left in your lungs. Your body no longer feels like it’s yours, and instead it’s as if you’re just living inside of it, watching everything happen around you but not having any actual control over it.

Fuck fuck fuc kfuck fuck fuck

Being so wrapped up in your own mind, you don’t even hear Mando coming up the ladder. You don’t hear his heavy boots clanking against durasteel. You don’t even hear him speaking to you. All you feel is a presence and when you finally lull your head back and peek through heavy lids, you see Mando—on his fucking knees, trying to comfort you. One of his hands hovering over your figure like he’s not sure whether to touch you or not.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks as softly as he possibly can. It comes out smooth like honey but still sitting at a low register through his helmet.

“I’m fine,” you answer curtly, no longer feeling particularly chatty.

He sighs deep in his throat, and you can tell he wants to ask you again, maybe hoping he’ll get the truth this time, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a step back and sits down on the chair opposite the one you’re closest to and stays as silent as a statue. While normally you appreciate the company, right now you want to be left alone, but you don’t have the heart to tell him to leave. So, you stay where you are, both acting like the other isn’t there.

As time ebbs on, your breathing has slows down. Mando being there—despite not saying anything, has you distracted. Your mind’s starting to settle on what’s going on at the present time, rather than all the thoughts that clawed at you just minutes ago. Without even realizing it, he’s helped you significantly.

“How old are you?”

Taken aback by his sudden engagement in conversation, you lean into the wall behind you and feel your shoulders touch the cold durasteel.

“Sorry?” you ask, pulling your eyebrows closely together. This might be the first time he’s ever asked you something personal. When Mando asks a question, it’s usually because he’s searching for clarification, not because he’s genuinely curious.

“How old are you?” He repeats.

You tell him your age and he hums in his throat.

“What about you?”

Something like a chuckle emits from his helmet before answering. “Older than you.”

That’s as close to an actual answer as you’ll get from him.

Okay, since you’re back to asking trivial questions about each other, “Is there anything you like to do for fun?”

“Fun?” He echoes.

“Yeah. Like, what do you do for enjoyment?”

He stays silent for much longer than you expected. Maker, does he not know how to have fun? Maybe it’s the way you worded the question?

“What brings you pleasure?”

His head turns to you and cocks ever so slowly to the side. It’s impossible to hide the annoyance on your face. Rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest, a chuff of air releases from your nostrils.

“Forget it.”

“I…don’t know,” he answers somewhat defeatedly. The idea that Mando doesn’t know what having fun is comes as quite a shock to you. Even though you didn’t have much knowledge on Mandalorians, you didn’t expect that they were unable to have fun.

“Okay, forget that question. What’s your favorite color?”

“Who has a favorite color?”

“People, Mando. People have favorite colors.”

“I don’t.” Letting out a gentle laugh, you use the palms of your hands to push against the floor and rise off the ground, slipping into the chair you were leaning on previously. Turning your body in the direction of the Mandalorian sitting across from you, you sit cross legged.

“There isn’t a color that you gravitate towards? One you look at and think, ‘I like that’?”

“I suppose I never thought of it.”

He’s been missing out on so much. How he’s been going through life without having these mundane preferences or opinions on things is…almost unfathomable. Every person you’ve ever met has had these frivolous details that made them different, giving you an insight into their personalities but Mando has no preference on anything. He just…exists.

“I’m assuming you have one?” he asks through the modulator.

“Yellow,” you begin to say. “But not a flashy kind of yellow, more like a dusty, pale yellow.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why is that your favorite color?”

“I don’t know, Mando,” you answer with a smile on your face. “I just like how it looks. It’s warm and inviting.”

“Hmmm.”

“I guess… It reminds me of the sun. Back home, the sun would shine so bright, and it was so big. I used to stare at it even though my mother warned me not do that.”

He doesn’t say anything more but given that this might be the longest casual conversation you two have ever had, it’s quite the improvement from just saying a couple words to each other.

“Why do you always wear your armor?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We’re in hyperspace right now and you’re geared up for battle. Doesn’t it get uncomfortable always wearing your armor? Isn’t it heavy?”

“It is heavy.”

Eyebrows knitting tightly together, your lips press into a thin line, unamused by Mando dancing around your question.

“Are… Are you not even allowed to at least take off your armor in front of another person?”

“I never thought about it. I’m usually alone so it makes sense to keep it on; in case.”

“In case what? We’re not going to get attacked in hyperspace.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“Seriously, Mando. You need to loosen up a bit.”

“I do not need to ‘loosen up’. I’m fine,” he says, a hint of derision in his voice.

“Says the guy in full body armor all the time.”

“It’s practical.”

“Oh, it’s practical,” you mock, a grin creeping up on your lips.

“Yes.”

“Even when you’re fucking someone?” You remark, eyebrow raised.

The visor burns into you. He’s definitely caught off guard by your brass question. Your lips curl into a sly smile, your tongue darting across your bottom lip.

“No one’s complained about it.”

Oh.

It’s kind of silly how angry that statement makes you. Okay, not necessarily angry but it definitely stirs something deep inside you. It’s clear by the way he fucked you last night that you weren’t his first—he’s obviously experienced in that area. However, you can’t help the way your jaw clenches at the thought of someone else crying out his name while he fucks them senseless.

You’re mine.

Thighs rubbing together as you remember Mando’s confession from last night, it’s quickly replaced by the thought of him saying that to someone else. Has he said that to anyone else? Are you reading into this too much? What if the only reason he said it was because it was in the heat of the moment? People say things during intimacy that they don’t necessarily mean… You’re definitely overthinking things, right?

“What are you thinking?” He beckons, voice hitting that part inside of you that nearly has you fucking moaning on the spot. How can a voice be so intoxicating? It’s not even his true voice, it’s distorted and cuts up like static but it has you nearly soaked in your seat.

“Nothing,” you lie, hoping he’ll drop the subject and move on.

He doesn’t.

“You’re quiet and from what I can tell, your heat signature’s gone up.”

Your what? “My heat sig—? No, your helmet must be malfunctioning.”

“Oh,” he rises from his seat slowly, squaring his shoulders as he does but doesn’t take a step towards you. He stays painstaking still, visor never once breaking away from you. “Is that right?”

Stars. Your heartbeat is picking up, palms starting to sweat, and your throat is beginning to close up. Your eyes maintain their gaze, trying to regain some kind of control over the situation. It’s childish, really—always attempting to have even the slightest amount of authority over whatever situation you’re put in with Mando because you never actually have any control. He may fool you into thinking you do, but at the end of the day, Mando is always the one in control.

“Your heat signature is burning up, pretty girl,” he taunts.

Kriff, this is not going the way you want it to go. You can’t be the only one looking foolish right now. If he wants to play the game, you can play it too, and you’ll make damn sure you play it better.

Looking him up and down trying to pinpoint any indication that he may not be as calm and collected as he’s playing off, your eyes drop to the bulge in his pants. As your vision pierces into him, you notice him shift his weight slightly, his hands balled tightly into fists by his sides.

“Why so tense, Mando?”

“I’m not—”

“Oh,” you echo his words from just minutes ago. Slowly slipping out of the chair, you stand to face him, squaring your shoulders. Pleasure heats up deep in your stomach, travelling down to the apex of your thighs, reminding you of how sore you actually are. “Is that right?”

“Stop that,” he warns. You got him.

“Not doing anything,” your voice sounding as innocent as you can while your eyes convey the opposite. You want him to know that you won’t give in so easily.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Do—” he starts but quickly composes himself. Craning his neck, his next words drip out of him slowly. “Drive me crazy.”

“Any of your other friends ever drive you crazy?”

Okay, that was a low blow, but you can’t shake the thought from your mind. For Maker’s sake, you’re an adult. Obviously he’s had lovers before, why is this so hard for you to accept? It’s not like you guys are together, you’re simply stuck with each other for the time being. Not only that, but you’ve had your fair share of men. He doesn’t seem to be jealous about that.

I’ll kill anyone who comes close to you.

“Mmm, are you… jealous?”

“Maker, no.” Lie.

“Then why are your cheeks red?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuckkkkfuck

Why does your face always have to give you away? You can play sabacc with the best deadpan expression in the galaxy, but right now you can’t even hide your resentment. How is Mando able to get under your skin and expose your every emotion, every thought? He pulls it out of you and basically presents it to you on a fucking platter.

“Because you annoy the shit out of me.”

“Your body is telling me otherwise.”

“Stop cheating! I can’t read your body heat, that’s not fair.”

“I’m not trying to play fair.”

All right, if this is how he wants to play, you’ll just have to be bolder. Taking a deep breath and exhaling through parted lips, your left foot moves forward, taking one big stride towards Mando, stopping just inches from his breastplate. You can practically feel his own heat vibrating off of him. His fists tighten even more, and you swear you can hear his breathing quicken, cutting up in the helmet.

“You’re not the only one who can play games, Mando.”

He makes a noise in his throat, somewhere between a growl and a groan. Stars, the air is getting thick, you’re all but drunk on this feeling. Your undergarments are stuck to your pussy, drenched with slick, waiting for someone to make the first move. The blood is pounding in your ears, but you try to maintain the best stony stare you can muster. This is a fight you’re not willing to lose. You bite down on your bottom lip, staring into the ‘T’ of his helmet through hooded lids. His chest pushes out slightly and his head angles to the side, just enough for you to see the underneath of his jaw. There’s some stubble poking out from the bottom of his helmet, and you lick your lips at the sight. Wanting to put your lips to his jawline and trail wet kisses along it, gently sucking at his skin. Maker, you might end up losing this if you don’t compose yourself.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice hoarse and low.

“For you to lose,” your answer is honest. You want him to break down and give in, just to give you the slightest bit of power.

Mando lets out this sound, a joyful sound you’ve only heard once or twice before but it nearly throws you for a loop. Hearing him laugh, even if it’s quick and low, fills you up with the greatest amount of delight. To see someone who’s always stoic and serious let out a sound of pure pleasure, it makes up for all the times he purposely chooses to get under your skin. All the moments he infuriates you, it all goes away with the sound of his laugh.

At this moment, you’re grateful that his face is covered because you definitely would have crushed your lips together by now. His helmet actually works to your advantage, holding you back from doing the one thing you would have otherwise done by now.

“I’m not touching you,” he whispers. It sounds less like a statement to you and more like a reminder to himself. He’s fighting his urges just as much as you are, but you will continue to fight this until he breaks, he has to break.

“Then don’t.”

All of sudden, you both hear a disturbance coming from the hull. The kid must be getting into trouble down there.

“I’ll go check on him,” you tell him, choosing not to wait for Mando to say anything in return before making your way to the ladder of the cockpit. Fighting the urge to take one last look at him before disappearing down the rungs, you head down to the hull and see Grogu rummaging through the various crates placed around the Crest. Once he sees you, he shows you a big toothy grin and runs straight for you, arms stretched out. You bend down and pick him up, holding him close to your chest.

“Hey, kiddo. What trouble are you getting yourself into down here?”

Grogu babbles something at you and you smile in return. A small grumble, something like an animal growling, comes from the baby’s stomach and his ears droop down.

“Hungry, little guy? Let’s see what we got for you.”

Walking down the hull with the kid in your arms, you stop at the small closest Mando keeps his ration packs. There aren’t many packs left, just enough to hold all three of you down until you land on Coruscant. After that, you’ll need to buy some more packs. Grabbing one of the packages and a bowl from one of the shelves, you prop the kid on one of the smaller crates and begin emptying the contents of the pack in the durasteel dish.

It’s a dark green looking blob. Quite frankly, you hate ration packs. They always look like food that’s been mashed together into a jelly bar and even despite the fact that once you add water to it so that it actually looks like food, just the sight of it in its raw form is enough to ruin your appetite. The kid doesn’t care about all that though; he’d eat anything you give him. Back on Sorgan, you had seen him eat a frog whole—just swallowed it without even a second thought. It was impressive and yet totally gross at the same time.

Leaving him on the box momentarily, you walk over to the sink in the privy and let a few droplets of water touch the blob in the bowl. Within seconds, the bar transforms into a small bread roll. It’ll hopefully be enough to tie him down for a few hours.

Passing by the ladder, you call out to Mando. “Hey, I’m about to feed the kid. Do you want to come down for a meal?”

“Not hungry. Thank you,” you hear him answer. He never eats with you two. Given that he needs to take off his helmet in order to feed himself, he chooses to wait until you’re both asleep or nowhere in sight, but that doesn’t stop you from asking each time. Part of it is so that he feels included but mostly you hope that one day he’ll choose to sit with you both. One day, you think to yourself.

When you hand the bowl over to Grogu gently, he takes it with both hands and begins eating the bread like it’s the first meal he’s ever had. Your brows pull tightly together as you watch him devour his food. For such a small creature, he sure eats like a bantha. He could probably eat for a whole day without stopping to catch his breath.

It’ll never seize to amaze you just how strong this little guy is. He’s so tiny and somehow, he possesses a power stronger than you could ever really understand. This is the same kid that saved Mando’s life from a mudhorn. This is the kid that swallowed a whole frog that was half his size. A child this small is somehow a Jedi.

Once he’s done eating, he peers up at you with big, black eyes and coos at you.

“Nah, I’m not hungry right now, kid,” you answer as if you understand what he’s saying to you. Then again…maybe you can understand him.

Ahsoka said she and Grogu could feel each other’s thoughts. You should be able to do the same, right? Granted you have no training in the matter, but you were able to communicate with him once, surely you could do it again.

Your hand reaches out to him and you hook a finger around his hand. He grips around your index and squeezes you tenderly. Closing your eyes, you try to imagine what he could be thinking, what he might be trying to tell you. At first, you don’t hear or see anything—just darkness. A part of you wants to give up, nothing that it was worth a shot anyway, but you choose to press on. Focusing hard on Grogu, you relax the tension in your shoulders and take a deep breath, exhaling through your lips.

By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind…

A woman’s voice fills your mind, but you can’t make out any of her features. Focus, you tell yourself.

You are as its father.

A Mandalorian. She looks different than Mando. Her helmet looks to be made of gold, with horns erecting from the very top. Her armor appeared to be different as well. Unlike Mando’s shiny, chrome beskar, her cuirass is a reddish brown and instead of a cape, she wears a fur coat on her back. Immediately, you got the impression she’s a warrior of her own nature, just as cunning as Mando, but in a swifter, more agile way, unlike Mando’s brash style of battle.

Just as the moment appeared, it vanished, filling your mind with images of sand dunes. Suddenly, you’re back in Mos Eisley. Only this time, you’re much younger, playing on the outskirts of the city with Tye.

“Tye, I’m tired,” you whine out to him. He’s running around the sand, punting a ball at you and then taking it away when you opt not to kick it back to him.

“Oh come on, we have to head back soon anyway. Just a little bit longer.”

It’s hard to hide your disappointment. Really, you just want to be inside. Today is such a blazingly hot day, and water is at its peak in scarcity. Most folks will be inside all day, avoiding the scorching heat. Less time outdoors means less water consumed, but Tye never listens to what he’s told. He does whatever he wants and drags you along with him and unfortunately, you have a hard time saying no to him, so you’re almost always roped into his shenanigans.

“Tyyyyyyye,” you drawl out. “I want to go inside! It’s too hot!”

Just as you say that a giant spacecraft enters the atmosphere, covering the entire surrounding area in shadows. You look up at the giant structure in awe. You’ve never seen a spacecraft so grand before, jaw dropping as you watch two smaller vessels appear from the hovering fortress above your heads. They drop down a little less than a click away. By now, Tye is at your side, both of you watching men in white uniforms exit the ships, charging towards your direction. An immediate fear washes over you, grabbing Tye’s wrist and running to hide behind a nearby moisture vaporator. Your heart is racing, and you feel Tye’s own panic coursing through your veins.

“Wh-what’s going on?” He whispers, voice shaking as he speaks.

“I don’t know…”

The men pass you by, not even taking a second to look around them. Their heads stay glued to what’s in front of them, hands gripping onto giant guns you’ve never seen before. Just as fast as they came, they disappear into the city. Screams and shrieks suddenly break out. People scatter, running out of the city walls in mass hysteria. Your legs itch to run, to find your parents, but Tye senses your urgency and grabs your forearm.

“We have to stay.”

“But—”

He whispers your name. “We don’t know who those people are. We’re safer here.”

Your bottom lip begins to quiver. Tears form in the corners of your eyes as the screams of the villagers echo through the city walls, causing you to wince. Tye wraps his arms around you, and you embrace each other, weeping silently in each other’s arms, praying to the Maker that these soldiers leave. The sound of Tye repeating, “It’s okay. We’re okay,” echoing in your mind.

It’s only when the sun begins to set that the town becomes quiet. The spacecrafts are gone, leaving no trace that they were even here. Your eyes are swollen from the tears, and you feel overwhelmingly exhausted. Body still shaking, burning off adrenaline and fear. Standing up is difficult, your knees are buckling but the need to see your parents is stronger than the quaking of your legs. You wake Tye up by shaking his shoulder gently.

“They’re gone. We have to head back.”

He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palms. At first it doesn’t seem like he fully understands you, but when he looks up and doesn’t see the ship from before, he all but jumps up, dusting the sand off his clothes and charging right into the city.

“Tye! Wait up!” You shout after him, but he doesn’t relent. Taking large strides, you attempt to catch up with him, running past weeping elders, hysterical children, and what appears to be dead bodies all around you. Your mind doesn’t allow you to process what you’re seeing, you’re just too focused on catching up with Tye and then finding your parents.

His name being called in the distance stops him dead in his tracks.

“Mama! Papa!” He cries out, pivoting around in hopes to see someone he knows. When you finally manage to catch up to him, his mother appears from the shadows, tears streaming down her face. From the faint streetlights, her cheeks are dark red, and her eyes are just as swollen as you assume yours are.

“Sweetheart!” She shouts as she races to you both, wrapping you up in her arms and squeezing you until the air is all but knocked out of your lungs. It hurts, but you hold on to her anyway, feeling her warm, motherly touch.

“Where’s Papa?” He asks in the crook of his mother’s neck. Tye’s voice is hoarse from crying and yelling, and she attempts to soothe him by gently shushing him.

“It’s okay, son. We’re okay.”

“I have to get home,” you say, pulling away from her grip.

“Honey…”

The look on her face… you’ll never forget it. Tears welling up in her eyes, her jaw slacking because she wants to say something but not knowing how to say it. The pain you see in her green eyes, it’s like she’s just watched a loved one die right in front of her. Fear and anguish hit you in waves, crashing down on you more aggressively with every second that goes by.

“No…” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Taking a step away from her, her arm reaches out to you.

“Sweetie…” she tries again.

Shaking your head in panic, you turn on your heel in one swift movement and disappear down one of the quieter streets and make for your home. As you race in the direction of your dwelling, your heart bangs against your ribcage, tears flying down your cheeks. You can’t even see where you’re going due to the water in your eyes, but you keep trekking on. Nothing’s going to stop you. Throat unbearably tight, you can barely let in little breaths as you turn the corner to where you live.

When you reach the street, you stop so suddenly that you almost tumble down on the ground, somehow managing to catch yourself at the last moment, your breathing ridiculously erratic. There’s a horde of adults crowding the front door to where you live. Your feet carry you to them at a painstakingly slow pace. Blood pounding in your ears, you can barely make out what anyone is saying. When someone finally catches sight of you, they rush towards you, dropping down to their knees to meet your eye level.

“Sweetie, we can’t let you go in there.”

“But t-t-that’s my h-ho-me,” you manage to say through shaky breaths.

“I know, but we ca—”

You push passed them before they can finish speaking and dart passed several other people trying to stop you until you squeeze through the half-open door into your house, pressing a button on the control panel by the doorway. The door hisses shut.

There’s only a bit of light offered inside. To your left, you see the table you’d sit at with your parents for supper. The chairs are tucked neatly under the table. You’re not sure if the banging you hear is from someone outside trying to get in, or if it’s your heart thumping against your chest but it doesn’t deter you from searching for your parents.

As you continue to scan the area, there’s a couple of cups lying around on the counter, but other than that, nothing is out of place. Relief begins to settle in but is rapidly replaced by sheer terror when you finally shift your head to the right. Then, you see them.

Your parents lying face down on the floor.

“No!” You cry out, running to them and dropping to your knees to hover over their bodies.

There’s a blaster sized hole in your father’s back, heat still steaming off his wound. Your screams could be heard from the other end of the city, clutching onto their lifeless bodies as you beg for them to wake up.

“Please, wake up. Mama, Papa. P-please!”

Someone pulls you off of them, wrapping their arms around your torso. Your arms flail around, clawing and scratching at whoever’s holding onto you. “Let me go! My parents! Let me go!” Your voice is shrill and hoarse, becoming more hysterical, but they never let go. Your parents become smaller and smaller as you’re carried away from them. The last thing you remember is seeing the door to your home whoosh shut…

Your body jolts, and you’re not on Tatooine, anymore. You’re on the Razor Crest. Grogu sits just a foot away from you, peering up at your shivering body. Somehow, you exposed a memory you had sworn to never remember. After that day, you locked that memory up in a part of your brain and shut it off, choosing never to think about it again. The pain was too much for you to handle. Instead of facing your pain, you always chose to ignore it, to pretend it didn’t exist. Once again, compartmentalizing your trauma and locking it away for good.

Grogu fusses and when you look down to him, his eyes begin to flutter. Poor thing gets so sleepy whenever he messes with the Force. You pick him up and hold him close to your chest, making your way to Mando’s bunk. As you pass the ladder, the kid fusses and makes grabby hands for the ladder.

“You want Mando?” You ask him, and Grogu babbles in response.

Climbing the ladder with him in your arms is a bit difficult, but you’re able to get to the top without too much of a struggle.

“He wants to be with you,” you tell him.

Mando swivels his chair around to face you. Extending his arms out to you, you hand Grogu over to him and your hands briefly touch. The brushing of your hands suddenly reminds you of the game you were in the middle of playing just before the kid decided to explore the cargo hold.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

Turning on your heel, you head down the ladder quickly. How is it that over the course of just a few hours, you could go through so much emotional turmoil? Honestly, you haven’t even been awake for that long, but you’re already wanting to take a nap.

Fuck it, there’s nothing else to go in this hunk of metal, and Mando’s probably busy with the kid, so you decide to let your body rest. Crawling into the little cubby hole and shutting the door closed, you close your eyes and hope your body will allow you some peace of mind.

You’re reminded of why you hate naps so much when you wake up. Instead of feeling refreshed, you always end up feeling much worse. First off, you always wake up in a cold sweat and feeling super groggy. Quite frankly, it does the exact opposite of what you hoped a nap would do. Secondly? Mando’s cot is unbearably hard. It shouldn’t be considered a bed; it resembles more like duracrete than anything else. As much as you like finally being able to sleep not sitting up in that kriffing passenger chair, this is another struggle of its own.

Pushing the button on the control panel by the door, it opens with a swift motion. The first thing you clock is that the Crest’s lights are almost all out, making it damn near impossible for you to even see your hand in front of your face. How in the hell is Mando able to walk around here not being able to see a single thing? The second thing you notice is the sound of running water. He must be taking a sanisteam.

To think that just on the other side of that wall, he’s naked and wet? If it were anybody else, you’d strip out of your clothes and join them, but things aren’t that simple with Mando. There are boundaries you wouldn’t dare cross unless he gives you his consent. Rather than frustrate you, it entices you even more. It keeps you wanting more and more, especially because he can’t just give you everything you want, whenever you want. No, you have to work for it.

Realizing that now you’re basically just standing outside the fresher like a creep, you head up to the cockpit in search of the kid. Just like you suspected, he’s sound asleep in one of the passengers’ chairs, wrapped up in what looks to be Mando’s cape. The thought of Mando taking off his cape to wrap Grogu up makes you stupidly giddy.

Treading carefully as to not make any noise to wake him up, you tiptoe back to the ladder and shut the cockpit door, your feet barely touching the rungs as you descend back down to the hull.

Something in your stomach growls, and you’re suddenly reminded that you haven’t eaten since… yesterday? Kriff, has it really been that long since your last meal? You head over to the pantry where the packs are kept, extending your arms out in front of you so you don’t bang into anything on your way there, and grab the first pack your hand touches, not having a preference as to what you’ll be eating today—tonight? You don’t even know what time of the day it is. Time in hyperspace can be difficult to keep track of. The only way you’d know what time it is is if you checked the control panel back up in the cockpit and right now, it’s just not worth the trip.

The pack itself feels sloshy in your hands; it’s probably some kind soup. Reaching into the closet again, your hand searches for a bowl to put your meal in.

Mando will be out of the fresher at any moment now, given that the water’s been turned off for a minute or two. The door to the fresher wooshes open and out of reflex, you shut your eyes but are quickly reminded that the hull is so faintly lit that even with your eyes open you wouldn’t be able to see him, but just to be safe, you announce your presence.

“I heard you,” is all you hear back.

“Can you turn the lights on a little bit more? I can barely see a thing and I really don’t feel like dropping my soup all over your ship.”

He doesn’t answer but within seconds the Crest transforms from a dark abyss to a twinkling, starry night. Not unlike the ones you’d spend hours staring at with Tye in the sand dunes during your teenage years.

Your head spins to your left, selfishly hoping to catch a sight of Mando, and Maker do your eyes latch onto him.

He’s not wearing a shirt, first of all. This is the most of his skin that you’ve ever seen before. The warm lights flickering off his back accentuates the curves of his muscles, concaving in certain areas and then protruding in others, outlining every bit of toned tissue. You can vaguely make out a few water droplets trailing down his golden skin, and it’s seriously taking all the self-control you have not to close the gap between you both and lick them off his back. An ache begins to build in the apex of your thighs, and you start to rub your legs together in an effort to alleviate some of the heat stirring inside you. Still wearing the kriffing helmet, though.

The second thing you notice is the vast amount of scarring on his skin. Each scar representing a different battle. You could probably lay him flat on his stomach, and his back would appear like a visual biography of his life, each mark giving you an understanding into his past, and the tests and trials he’s had to overcome over the years.

What were you trying to do, again?

Food.

You need food.

“Do you—” you squeak. Pull yourself together. Clearing your throat in hopes your tone will go back down to its normal octave, you repeat yourself. “Do you want any soup?”

“No t—” he begins to say but you cut him off before he can finish. You knew he’d say he wasn’t hungry.

“Have you eaten today?” Your eyes stay glued to the bowl in front of you. You’re certain that if you so much as looked at him again, you’d forget about the damned soup and pounce on him like loth cat.

“No.”

“Then you’re eating.”

Taking a second bowl from the shelf, you divide the soup evenly between both cups and begin making your way over to Mando, keeping your head down in the off chance he’s still not wearing a shirt, you don’t want to seem like you’re gawking at him.

“You can look,” he clarifies, noting the way you refuse to look up from ground.

When your eyes finally shift from the ground to look at him, he’s now wearing a black long-sleeved tunic that hugs his figure in ways that should be illegal. Your jaw is practically hanging and swallowing the lump in your throat causes a sound somewhere close to a moan to expel from your mouth, but you’re quick enough to stifle it with a cough.

As you hand him the bowl of soup, you’re feeling incredibly shy for some reason, your hand extending out and trembling as he takes it from you.

“I’ll eat in the cockpit to give you some privacy,” you tell him as you put your hand on the railing.

“No,” he says immediately, grabbing your forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Stay.”

Lips curling upwards into a smile, you end up biting down on your bottom lip to keep the smile from growing and growing as you replay that in your mind.

Stay.

Moving away from the ladder, Mando pulls out one of the smaller crates and seats himself down on it. As you begin to look around for another box you could sit on yourself, he watches you closely.

“You can sit here, if you want.”

“Oh, okay.”

Once you’re seated, you begin to take small sips of your soup. Mando reaches over to where his vambrace is—scattered somewhere on another crate and presses a button on it. The Crest’s lights fade even more, leaving you both in almost complete darkness.

A muffled hiss fills the air, and you hear beskar touch the durasteel ground. You eat in silence for a few minutes, hearing only each other’s sips as you continue to fill your bellies with food. It’s incredibly domestic. A Mandalorian and a…well you’re not really sure what you should label yourself as, but you’ll stick with smuggler for now; the two of you eating together like an actual couple—even if that’s far from what your relationship actually is.

“No amour?” You decide to ask, trying to make a bit of small talk in the pitch-black abyss.

“Someone told me I had to ‘loosen up’,” he jests, knocking his elbow against your arm. Maker, you’ll never get tired of hearing that unmodulated voice of his. Something as simple of a voice shouldn’t make you feel the way it does. For a man who kills for a living, he speaks with such a gentle intonation.

It’s such a juxtaposition, really. In full body armor, Mando is definitely one of the most feared hunters in the galaxy. He’ll kill if something threatens his life or the kid’s life. Impossible to read, impossible to predict. But right now? He’s the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him. No helmet, no amour. His guard is as down as you’ve ever seen and is willing himself to be naked with you, even if he’s still fully clothed. How you were able to find yourself in this situation is something you might never be able to fully understand, but it is truly the greatest gift you could have ever been given.

“I’m sorry about before,” you whispers, feeling guilty about how you approached the question about his helmet. “I didn’t mean to pressure you about your Creed.”

It’s not fair for you to come down so hard on him. You might not understand why he chooses to live his life with such restrictions, but it really isn’t any of your business.

“It’s fine.”

You still feel angry with yourself for acting the way you did, but if Mando says it’s fine, the last thing you’ll do is continue your self-loathing and make him feel uncomfortable about the whole thing.

Taking the last sip of soup and feeling satisfied with your meal, you push yourself to your feet. “Are you finished?” you ask him.

“Yes, thank you.”

You search aimlessly in the dark for a moment in search of his dish and accidentally knock the bowl right out of his hand, hearing it tumble on the ground.

“Shit, sorry,” you curse, dropping to your knees in search for it. While frantically searching for the dish, you feel his hand caress the small of your back, sending shivers through your spine.

You’re starting to feel pretty flustered, the fact that you’re both in the darkness doesn’t help. There’s no way of anticipating what could happen and that’s exhilarating and unnerving. Of course, you eventually find the bowl and Mando’s hand disappears from your back once you get back on your feet.

Walking over to the pantry where the ration packs are, you place the bowls on the shelf, making a mental reminder to wash them later. Just as you’re about to turn around and head back to where you think Mando is, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. Two hands grip onto either side of your hips and he presses his body against yours, pushing you right up against the little closet. A moan escapes your lips without even realizing it, and you can feel his hot breath tickle the crook of your neck.

“I’ve wanted to touch you all fucking day,” he growls in your ear.

Holy Maker, the heat in your stomach is somehow already becoming too much. You’re basically panting, the blood in your ears is almost deafening.

“I’ve been watching the way you’re walking. Did I hurt you? Do you still feel me?”

“Stars,” you breathe out.

Mando presses his lips to your skin, sending shockwaves through your entire core. You can feel his stubble prick your neck and it’s everything you didn’t know you craved. It feels deliciously rough.

Your hands brace themselves against the door, it’s the only way you can keep yourself upright. Knees already buckling, feeling the heat pooling from your cunt and drenching your underwear with slick. One of his hands begin to trail away from your hip and trace the waistband to your trousers. Instead of teasing you though, his hand wastes no time pushing passed your pants and panties, finding his way down to your cunt and cupping it with such force you jerk forwards, groaning as his hand finds your clit.

“Already so wet for me.”

Fingers leaving your bud, he slides them between your folds, gathering your slick on his calloused fingertips and then he’s shoving a thick finger deep inside you. His free hand flies to your throat, applying slight pressure with his thumb and index on that sweet spot underneath your jawline.

“Fuck,” you cry out brokenly. It doesn’t fill you up nearly as much as his cock does, but the way he moves inside of you, hitting that spot inside you no one has ever touched, marking it as his, causes you to see fucking stars.

Mando nips at your neck, alternating between sloppy kisses and bites hard enough to cause bruises, you can already feel an orgasm stirring inside you. You clench around his digit, feeling yourself climb higher and higher.

“Are you already close?” He mutters in between kisses and nibbles.

“Shit, fuck I-I think so.”

Your hand finds its way to the back of his head, grabbing fistfuls of his soft, damp locks and pulling hard, causing Mando to groan in your ear and buck his hips into yours. You can feel the outline of his rock-hard rock against your ass, and you grind into him, feeling his length burrow between your cheeks. You’re so close to your climax already.

Without missing a beat, he pulls out of you and his hand disappears from between your thighs.

“W-why?”

Grabbing your hips, he flips you around to face him.

“Up,” he instructs.

You linger there for a moment, unsure of what he’s asking you to do. When you don’t move, his hands grab onto your waist and lift you off the ground without so much of a groan. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms cross around the back of his neck, your head leaning on his shoulder. He walks over to the little bunk in the corner of the hull and lowers you onto the mattress gently, being mindful not to hit your head on the small doorway.

Feeling your heart pound against your ribcage, the thrill of not being able to see him at all and not having a clue as to what he’ll do next, it’s incredibly sensual. Your legs unwrap themselves from his waist and dangle off the edge of the cot. His hands trail up to the waistband of your pants and tugs them down off your ass. Lifting your hips up to help him, he takes them—along with your underwear, off and you hear them thump to the floor.

Hands returning to your skin, he hooks thems under your calves and lifts them up so your bent at the knees, feet resting on the edge of the bunk.

The anticipation is getting to you. He continues to take his agonizingly sweet time running the tips of fingers on your naked skin, causing you to shiver and goosebumps to form on your skin. Lifting one of your legs and placing it over his shoulders, he peppers kisses from your ankle all the way to your inner thigh and repeats the same taunt with the other leg. Both of them now resting on his shoulders, he drops to his knees in front of you. Suddenly feeling nervous, you try to close your legs and end up squeezing his head by accident.

“Shit, sorry,” you whisper, propping yourself on your elbows.

“Shhh,” he hushes, placing a large hand on your sternum and pushing you back down on the cot gingerly, and then his lips are on your skin again, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites all over your inner thighs, slowly getting closer to your throbbing pussy but never getting close enough to relieve the pressure building.

“Mando, please,” you whimper.

“Do I have to gag you?”

Shit… How is he able to make that sound so fucking hot?

“I’m going to take care of you, but you have to be quiet. Can you do that?” His voice is gentle but commanding.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Good girl.”

His tongue glides over your clit and there’s no controlling the moan that rips through you. Pulling away immediately, Mando stands up and presses his body into yours, his mouth merely inches away from yours, his large hand cupping just underneath your jaw.

“What did I say, pretty girl?”

You can feel his hot breath on your lips. If you just moved even the littlest bit forward, your lips would meet his. Licking your lips, you wrench your eyes shut to keep you from closing the gap.

“To be quiet,” you manage to say through ragged breaths.

“So be quiet,” he hisses, feeling his teeth sink into your bottom lip for just a second and then his weight is off you, returning to your thighs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned over his shoulders. Now, he wastes no time lapping you up, flicking your clit with his tongue with such a mind-blowing rhythm you have to throw your arm over your mouth and bite down on your skin to keep from making any noise. Mando never relents, developing the perfect torture. He plays with your bud then practically shoves his entire fucking face in your cunt, pushing his tongue inside you as far as it can go. It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to bubble up to the surface, threatening to burst. It’s all too much, your body starts to shake from the sensations.

You’re close, you’re so fucking close. Dropping your arm to your side, your voice hoarse from stifling all your cries, you’re somehow able to find the strength to say, “I’m gonna come.”

“No,” is all he answers.

No?

“W-w-what?”

“Hold it,” he says hastily, then continues his assault on your pussy.

How in kriffing hell are you supposed to hold it? You’re basically already there and he’s denying you it. You can’t hold on; you can’t stop it.

“I c-can’t,” you confess.

And then he stops. His tongue leaves you, his hands leave your skin, and you’re left there on the bed, legs hanging off the cot, chest heaving from being so fucking close and then being denied at the very last second.

“What the fuck?” You ask breathlessly, a hint of anger but mostly disappointment in your tone.

You hear him make a noise and then something wet trickles down your clit down to your entrance. It’s…sticky and warm. Did he just spit on you?

Lifting your legs back up and letting your feet balance on the very edge of the bunk, his cock rubs against you, angling the tip of himself to slide between your folds, mixing your slick, his spit and precome all over his length and you. Mando continues to tease you, lining himself up with your entrance but never sheathing himself inside you. It’s driving you fucking insane, even angling your hips whenever he does, hoping he’ll lose his self-control and plunge into you, but it only spurs him on. He knows how much it’s annoying you and he’s fucking thriving on it.

“If you don’t start fucking me soon…” you warn.

Mando actually laughs at you, like this is all a big joke to him. Anger begins to mix with your arousal, this is maddening. Why won’t he just fuck you already?

All of a sudden, he slams into you with so much power, you actually slide up the cot, and you wail feeling so fucking full and tight, your cry filling the small space you’re in. You’re still sore from the night before and feeling him stretch your walls again is almost unbearable, but it feels too fucking good. You’ll take every fucking inch of him without a single complaint. Then, just as your pussy begins to acclimate to him, he pulls out, hiking your shirt up just enough for him to grab onto your naked waist and pulling you back down closer to him.

“Mando!”

He leans over you once again, a hand cradles the back of your head while his thumb rubs your cheek tenderly. “If this gets to be too much, just tell me to stop and I will.”

Letting out a deep breath through your lips, you nod.

“Words.”

“I’ll tell you to stop.”

“Good.”

Thrusting his hips against you, his cock continues to grind along your slit, making you dizzy from both the lack of touch and the taunting of his cock against you.

“Maker, you’re so fucking wet. You sure you didn’t come?”

Words aren’t something you’re capable of forming so you’re stuck resorting to answering him with broken sobs. Practically writhing from all the overstimulation and lack of, from him toying with you, the pressure in your cunt actually fucking hurts, you’re nearly begging for some release. Adding onto the fact that you can’t see a fucking thing, it heightens all your other senses. They compensate for your lack of vision; everything feels so much more intense than you ever could have imagined.

No one could ever drive you to the brink of madness and pull you back in at the last second. No one could possibly make you feel so satisfied yet deprived. You’re convinced you’ve traveled the galaxy in search of him, that your soul was missing a piece so small, you didn’t even know it was missing until Mando filled that void. He’s etched into your skin, your bones, your veins. Every nerve ending tissue has been electrified by this enigma of a man. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill those who’d try to come between him and his clan.

Kriff, you’re drained already. He hasn’t even begun to fuck you, but waves of exhaustion are coming over you. Mando’s still fucking teasing you, only ever prodding the tip of himself inside you and then pulling away before he can truly fill you up.

He said if this became too much for you to handle, all you had to do was say the word and he’d stop. You’re starting to consider it; you don’t think you can handle much more of the slow torture he’s inflicting.

Just as your jaw slackens, he slams into you in a sift motion, fully immersing himself inside your swollen walls.

“Fuck!” You pant out, wrenching your eyes shut and feeling tears trinkle down your cheeks. Mando doesn’t move one bit, just sits inside you like he’s waiting for you to adjust yourself to the size of him.

“Shit, you’re tight. Gonna train that pretty cunt of yours to mold to my cock,” he grits out. Big hands hold you down by the waist, and he ever so slooooowly eases out of you only to ram into you again, all the way to the hilt. You’re seeing stars, every move, every thrust bringing you closer to euphoria. The only thing your mind can process is how fucking amazing it feels to be clenched around his cock. It’s mind bending, it’s intoxicating, you’ll never get used to the way he fucking tortures you.

He develops a downright brutal pace, pulling out just enough for his tip to pierce your walls and then pounding into you, growling every time he touches your cervix. Once he’s fully immersed inside you, he bucks his hips and practically jackhammers his cock inside you. A sheen of sweat covering both your bodies causes the sound of skin slapping against skin to sound so wet and fucking obscene. Still pounding into you, Mando’s hands leave your waist to grab under your thighs, lifting them up to hang off his shoulders. Pushing down on the backs of your thighs, he practically bends you in half at the knees, an arm on either side of your head, and then begins a pace so fast and brutal, you’re sure you’ll be sore for weeks. The spot he’s hitting right now is one you didn’t think was even possible. It knocks all the air out of your lungs, you can’t even make a goddamn sound. Your throat is bone dry, and whatever pathetic sounds that escape you are barely audible and breathless.

“Stars, you feel fucking amazing,” he mutters in your ear, and then he’s sucking at your neck, bruising the skin.

Mouth agape, you’re so fucking close to coming, a part of you doesn’t even want to tell him how close you are in case he stops. You don’t think you could physically handle it if he denied you again.

“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how much fucking noise your little cunt is making?”

On a normal day, Mando says as little as possible, giving you a quick sentence in response or even a one-word answer, but when he’s balls deep inside you, he can’t seem to shut up. He turns into a blabbering mess, offering you praise after praise like it’s a fucking prayer. Mando makes a note of everything. He comments on your gushing pussy, how your walls clench around him as you get closer and closer to your orgasm, how no one will ever touch you again.

How you’re his.

And you? You can barely throw two words together. You’re on the brink of losing your goddamn mind. Is this what being on spice is like? Feeling a sense of euphoria that hits you wave after wave, each one stronger and more intense than the last, teetering the line between sanity and insanity.

“…mine,” you hear him snarl. Reality doesn’t even feel real anymore, you can barely make out what he’s saying to you.

Something like a whimper slips through your parted lips.

“Now, come for me.”

He barely finishes speaking before your orgasm tears right through you. It begins deep inside you and is quickly shattering the earth around you. Crying out so loud Mando has to slap his hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds expelling from your lips. He continues to pound into your pussy, riding out the ripples of your climax, not relenting even for one moment. There isn’t any fucking air in your lungs—Mando’s weight is still pressing you into the cot and your climax is so strong, your chest is way passed heaving now.

You’ll be chasing this high for the rest of your life, the feeling of Mando unleashing his feral instincts on you, and you just helplessly letting him take control of you—it’s unlike anything you ever could have imagined.

“Good girl,” he praises. When you don’t immediately answer, still in a haze from the mind-shattering orgasm that just expelled out of you, Mando stills, cupping your face with his hand and murmurs, “Are you okay?”

Your lips part, and your brain desperately tries to find any word that might help him understand that you’re okay and also anything but okay. Only being able to breathe in quick, sharp breaths, Mando places a kiss on your jaw and repeats in the gentlest tone you’ve ever heard him speak, “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

Shaking your head frantically, you attempt to moisten your throat by swallowing, and it gives you enough to answer, “I’m okay.”

“Do you want me to stop?” He reiterates.

“No,” you croak.

“Are you sure?” Stars, how can he be so relentless in the way he fucks you and switch into a nurturer so quickly?

“Mmm. Please f-fuck me,” you mewl against him.

His cock twitches at your plea, and he obliges. In an effort to help you climb down from the overstimulation, he eases in and out of you at a deliciously hard, but slow pace, and then he does something you couldn’t have been prepared for. Your lips are slightly parted, letting in little bursts of air to help calm your breathing, and suddenly, you feel wet, soft lips clash onto yours. Instinctively, you yelp into his mouth from the unexpected touch, but you quickly acclimate to it, feeling your lips move on his. It’s a little awkward at first, you get the impression Mando hasn’t kissed many people in his life, because your teeth end up clashing together a few times. He fucking giggles into your mouth and you all but melt into the cot. His tongue slips passed your lips and meets yours and you can taste yourself and broth on his tongue. Your hands find their way to his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it, pressing your lips even deeper on his. Mando moans low in his throat and you can feel the vibrations ripple in your own mouth.

He makes to pull away, but you keep his lips locked on yours, using your hands to keep him where you want him. He gives in without hesitation, letting you take control of the kiss as he continues to ram into you. The dreams you’ve had of this moment, the moment you’d feel his mouth on yours doesn’t even come close to the feeling of it happening to you right now. It all makes sense now. Every kiss you’ve had previously was just practice for this. It was all just preparing you for this defining moment, the moment you’d finally be able to break through Mando’s heavily guarded walls. Every smack of your lips, every flick your tongues, every broken moan in each other’s throats, they’re all just feats breaking down the duracrete barrier that he’s forced himself to build over the years.

Bodies intertwined, every part of yourselves wrapped up in the other, it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins, and you suppose that’s how this is was always supposed to be. Each of you were missing the same piece— the inability to be perceived as anything but a person of strong will. Believing that vulnerability was a weakness, instead of something that should be treasured, and without knowing it, your paths crossed and challenged every part of your identity.

Foundling, Mandalorian, bounty hunter, father.

Orphan, mechanic, smuggler, Jedi.

Those shouldn’t mix together as perfectly as they do, but stars, does it feel like everything finally makes sense.

A second orgasm begins to brew in your stomach, but you don’t dare pull away from Mando’s lips. You’ll never pull away until he forces himself off of you.

He leaves your lips for just a moment, panting and his own chest heaving against yours. “Maker, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Shhh,” Tugging desperately at his hair, you close the small gap between you and slosh your mouths together. You both whimper brokenly on each other’s lips, and Mando slams into you three more times before his hips still, feeling his cock pump his seed into your soaking pussy. Just as he begins to come, your second climax reaches its peak and crashes into you. His hands are back on your waist, digging his fingernails into your skin. Whatever moans you both cry out are muffled by each other’s’ mouths, catching the sound and swallowing it, burying it deep inside one another.

When you come start to come down from your climaxes, Mando drops his head to the crook of your neck, burying his face into your skin and pressing sloppy, chaste kisses right where your jaw meets your neck.

“I—” You attempt to speak, but your vocal cords are so raw, it hurts even just making a sound. You’re still practically bent in half, and your legs are burning up. Resorting to stir around hoping he’ll get the message, Mando pulls off of you, using both his hands to very gently bring them down his shoulders, one by one, once again giving each of your inner thighs some tender pecks. Pulling out of you, his come seeps out of your completely worn out slit. He peppers a few kisses along your waist, and then you hear his footsteps retreat.

“Where—” You begin to say, making to slowly prop yourself on your elbows.

“I’m still here,” he assures you.

You can hear him moving things around, and you seriously wish there was some kind of light allowing you to see what he’s doing but given that your eyes have gotten used to being in complete darkness, you’re sure you’d be blinded by even the smallest amount of light right now.

A few minutes go by and then you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you down the cot. Once he feels like your head won’t hit the top of the bunk, he lifts you off your feet, wrapping his arms around your back, and in turn you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you for a couple steps and then brings you down onto what you expect will be the cold ground. Instead, you feel cotton on your back as he lowers you down.

“Where did you—?”

“I have a couple of extra capes in case one gets too battered,” he says, answering your question before you can finish asking it.

As soon as your head touches the ground, you feel your eyelids shut, exhaustion overpowering you. Turning over on your side and hiking up one of your legs up so that your knee lines up with your chest, you don’t even care that your own slick and his seed is practically dripping down your legs. You don’t care that you’re still naked from the waist down. The only thing you care about is falling asleep, preferably in Mando’s arms.

“Don’t sleep yet. Need to clean you up,”

“Mmm,” you protest. “Later.”

Mando chuckles lightly and then he’s wiping the slick off your legs and entrance with what feels like… a pair of trousers.

“Are you using my pants to clean that up?”

“It’s the first thing I grabbed. I’ll wash it.”

“Mmm, you better,” you mumble into your arm.

Now, you’re starting to slip in and out of consciousness, fatigue taking you over. Mando rummages around the hull for a bit longer, and then joins you on the floor, throwing what you assume is another cape, over your half naked body. You don’t even have the energy to move your body over towards his, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You’re both still close enough to feel the heat radiating off each other’s skin.

“Hey, Mando?”

“Yes?”

“I won.”

Things are quiet for a few minutes after that, and you’re on the verge of falling asleep when his velvety smooth voice breaks through the silence of the Crest.

“Blue,” his voice is low and barely audible.

“Mmm?” You mumble, desperately trying to stay awake.

“I…like the color blue.”

Okay, now that puts a stupid, hazy smile on your face. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Any particular shade of blue? Bright… dark?” You may be barely conscious, but you hang onto every word he says.

“I guess… dark.”

“Mmm,” you hum. “Why do you like that color?”

He lets out a deep breath, like he’s about to confess something to you that he hasn’t told anyone else. As if in this very moment, he’s about to give himself to you completely. “The Mandalorians that saved me from that battle droid in my village. Their armor was blue.”

Mando doesn’t elaborate any further, but he doesn’t have to. Feeling your heart tighten in your chest, you imagine what a young Mando must have been feeling when that droid pointed its guns at him. How he must have been utterly terrified and convinced that he was about to die. And then to be saved at the last moment. Seeing these warriors in blue armor coming to rescue him, to save his village from an even worse massacre. They were his saviors, it only makes sense that after all these years, that color would bring him solace and comfort.

It’s quite ironic, actually. Blues have the reputation of representing sadness or pain and you too have been accustomed to associating blue with your own trauma, and then here comes Mando.

The color symbolizes the exact opposite of what its known for. To him, it brings relief and reminds him of being saved; representing the beginning of a new life that he’s exemplified through and through. It’s a beautiful confession, and you’ll forever be searching for him in all the shades of blue that the galaxy has to offer.

Two opposites.

Yellow and blue.

One representing happiness and light. The other representing sadness and melancholy. Blend those two together and you create the fiercest of combinations. A beautiful balance of both extremes.

And when you think about it, what color does blue and yellow make?

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian smut #reader insert #we are one when together #fics

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Vogel und Jäger

- PART TWO

Summary: After waking up, you realise the realities of the world you've been pulled into. Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Fem!Reader (mafia AU) Warnings & Content: stabbing, language, angst Word Count: 1.7 k

A/N: make sure to read part one, otherwise this won't make any sense xD there's still a bit of build up going on, but starting with part three we'll be getting some action

You woke up from a restless sleep, crumbs of mascara stuck to your face. God, you needed a shower and a toilet immediately. The club was dead empty from the view upstairs, only a few people cleaning the tables and moping the floor. You stretched your arms and walked to the door, surprised it wasn't locked.

"Ah, miss Y/L/N, good morning! I hope you had a pleasant sleep." Someone startled you and you cleared your voice.

"Hi, who are you?"

"Oh, my apologies, I am Onyankopon." The man smiled and handed you a paper bag. You peekee inside and saw something which resembled clothes and toiletries. You recognised the stag pin in his chest, another of Zeke's employees. "I assume you'd like to clean yourself up. Please follow me."

"I'd love that, thank you." You smiled and followed Onyankopon downstairs. He told you bits and pieces of the Jaeger family overthrowing the police and gaining control of Paradis City, how the Marleyans wanted control over the city's resources and docks, all kinds of information you weren't entirely sure you were supposed to know. He walked you to the backstage, where all the strippersdancers got ready, encouraging you to use whatever you needed for you'd be the star of the club. That didn't help you in any way, instead it was anxiety-inducing, and your toes curled at his affirmation. You quickly took off last night's makeup, brushed your teeth, washed your face and body in a sink and got dressed. The clothes were simple, a long, light blue shirt — clearly a man's — and a pair of leggings. You wondered whom they belonged to, perhaps that grim-looking lady, Yelena. She terrified you with her look that could kill. Your hands hovered over the vanity in the dressing room but decided not to waste any more time and folded your old clothes, placing them in the paper bag.

"I'm ready." You walked out of the room and met with Onyankopon. He smiled and guided you out through the back door. "Hey, Onyankopon, who's Mikasa?"

"Oh, miss Mikasa is our best assassin. She's loyal only to Eren, though, which is an impediment for Zeke... I probably shouldn't have said that." He opened the door of a superb black car and you climbed inside with a sigh. You heard how the mafia was based on trust, and no one trusted you.

Most of the ride was silent, your eyes wandering out the window until Onyankopon parked in front of a huge and heavily guarded mansion. You knew the Jaegers were rich, but this was beyond obscene. You opened the door and Onyankopon scolded you for doing that, but you assured him you were perfectly capable of doing things by yourself. He walked you through the beautiful front garden of the mansion, through the large hallway and into what you assumed to be a living room. Or an office? Whatever that was, it was as big as the dining room of the orphanage.

"Ah, the little bird has arrived! You look splendid in my shirt." Zeke welcomed you and you felt your cheeks warm up at his words. The heat disappeared just as quickly when your eyes met with Yelena's. "Come, sit. I suppose you're hungry."

You nodded, feeling saliva building up in your mouth at the sight of croissants, bagels and all kinds of foods you've never had before. Historia was rich, but even her money wasn't enough to feed so many mouths. Doors swung open and you saw Eren barge in, followed by a few people close behind. He plopped on a couch opposite you, the same inexpensive look on his face.

"Let's get over with this. I've got shit to do."

"Impatient as always." Zeke rolled his eyes. "Y/N, do you swear to obey and serve the Jaeger family?" The question caught you off guard, but you nodded.

"I do."

"There, done." The older Jaeger brother shrugged and Eren clicked his tongue.

"You almost didn't let Mikasa walk out of this room alive because she swore loyalty to me and this is all you do to her? You're getting soft, brother."

The air in the room grew thick, almost impossible to breathe it in. All eyes were on you, and you didn't know if what you felt was shame or fear, or both.

"Very well." Zeke walked behind you and took your left hand, placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Hold that there, will you, love?" He smiled and you slightly relaxed. Until — a sharp pain, followed by electricity and heat shot from your hand, through your arm. A blood-curling scream erupted from your throat, tears falling from the corners of your eyes as you squirmed and thrashed at burning sensation, your hanned pinned to the table with a knife. Blood seeped from the wound and you panicked, no one in that room rushing to your aid. No one blinked, no one felt sorry. "Swear your loyalty to me. To the Jaeger family."

"I swear! Oh, God, I s-swear! Please!" You begged, feeling your temperature falling from your cheeks. Zeke twisted the knife and you fell from the couch, knees hitting the wooden floor.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked, unphased by your whimpers, sobs and yelling, as he let go of the knife that still pierced your flesh.

"T-to you! Make it stop, p-please!"

"Good enough for me. Any objections?" Zeke eyed his little brother.

"Just stitch her hand. She's annoying." Eren clicked his tongue and poured himself a cup of coffee. When Onyankopon pulled the knife out, blood gushed out of the fresh wound and you felt the room spin and your head heavy, vision blurry — you fainted.

A hard slap across your cheek woke you up and you met with Yelena, eyes drifting to your bandaged hand. It was damn painful to move it, and you used your other hand to support your weight, shifting your position on the couch.

"Finally." Eren got up and and handed you a file. You flipped through it and found pictures and information of the men from the club.

"Y/N, this is Armin, our bookkeeper. He'll be paying you after every successful show. And this is Mikasa, she'll train you in self-defence. I suspect you won't need it, but it's better to be safe than sorry." Zeke pushed the glasses with his index finger.

"You stabbed me." You bluntly stated, eyes glued to the bandages.

"It'll heal."

"It'll heal? I'm already in debt, you didn't need to stab me!" You got up and instantly felt a gun to your head. Great.

"Sit." Yelena's voice was brash and commanding. Your brain told you to listen to her, but your instincts told you to provoke her, to taunt her. Teeth gritting, you took a deep breath and lowered yourself down, deciding to do both.

"You're not gonna shoot me without Mr. Jaeger's permission, so don't point your gun at me." A satisfied smirk creeped on your lips — you didn't technically provoke her, just stated the obvious.

"Can I shoot her?"

"No." Zeke enjoyed the show, and unbeknownst to you, he, too, felt somewhat proud of your little snarky remark. "You still have to prove your loyalty. Talk to the band, choose some songs for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. You're free to settle your training hours with Mikasa, and to go wherever you want, but you are not allowed to step foot anywhere outside the centre of Paradis. Last thing I need is some Marleyan kidnapping you and torturing you for information. Or the cops. Dismissed."

"Mr. Jaeger, if I may?" You waited for his nod of approval. "Since I won't be living at the orphanage anymore, where exactly am I going to stay?"

"Ah, yes, of course. Blouse, Springer, come here." Zeke waved his hand. More people, more names.

It slowly dawned to you that the Jaegers had a thorough structure with extremely loyal people, and you'd have to quickly find your place there and earn their trust, lest you died a painful death. A bubbly brown-eyed woman and a cheerful-looking man approached Zeke's desk, and finally you saw someone less serious. Onyankopon was nice and all, but he wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine. These two seemed... fun.

"These are Sasha Blouse and Connie Springer, leaders of the drug cartel. You'll stay with them until you're capable of living by yourself."

The duo smiled at you and you felt genuine warmth from them, making you wonder just how bad the mafia was. They seemed to like working for the Jaeger brothers, but you couldn't judge that just yet.

"Oh, we've already moved your stuff to their place, so there is no need for you to visit Historia. Now go, we've got work to do." Zeke placed a cigarette between his lips before turning his back at you.

You were right, Sasha and Connie were fun people. They talked a lot, and you warmed up to them with a few jokes and puns. Connie handed you a phone containing a few contacts, neither of which were Zeke or Eren— apparently you weren't allowed to speak to them, they would speak to you. Sasha explained how you had to forget your past, and dedicate yourself solely to the family — no relationships, no friends, no acquaintances. You were not permitted to fall in love, which was understandable, considering the circumstances, but hard, considering the inability to control feelings.

"Don't worry about it too much. Zeke and Eren care about their subordinates, as long as you listen." Connie wrapped an arm around your neck. Besides, you're one of the lucky ones. Boss never spares witnesses, so he clearly saw potential in you." Somehow, that didn't make you feel any better, you only felt more weight on your shoulders.

"Yeah, I heard you can sing!" Sasha beamed, clapping her hands. "I can't wait for your first show, I bet it'll be awesome."

"It has to be, otherwise you'll have to come to my funeral." You shook your head, exiting Jaeger Manor. A honk caught your attention and you saw Mikasa impatiently waiting for you in a car. "Any advice before I go?"

"Don't get attached to any of us." Connie sighed.

"But trust that the family will protect you if you're loyal." The woman encouraged you before hugging you. A hug, something you never thought you'd get from a mobster.

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madmiriam · 3 years

Text

My Mando (Din Djarin) /oc's backstory idea (includes alot of rexsoka shipping)

Warning!! : I can't spell for toffee and Tumblr deleted all of my proofreaders edits. Obviously she doesn't want to do it all over again so I've had to make do.

(a clan of three by madmiriam (Me)

We all love the mandalorian, Din Djarin is so sexy as single dad and we all love him for it. But this makes it hard to write and engageing original character to go with this perfect specimen of a man, one that we can really connect with. Well I have a salutation, to connect with a character it helps if that character is also connected to a character/characters that you already know and love. So I give you my original character Jaig.

Look:

Like the picture above, originally I wasn't going to have Din and Grogu in it at first but I have a habit of making life difficult for myself, so your welcome.

Personality:

As an adult, she's calm and patient and has a sarcastic sense of humour.

As a child, she has a bubbly personality, a contagious smile, and an insatiable curiosity.

Strengths:

she finds it difficult to truly hate anyone, no matter what they've done, she proffers to look at the reasons behind the actions of others before jumping in for revenge, that's not to say she doesn't get angry at people, but her anger is not fuelled by hate. She has been fully trained in the use of weaponry, such as guns, granaids and other such, and has had a small amount of training with a lightsaber when she was younger. But afters a experiencing a tragedy at the age of 9 she hasn't touched one since, she proffers the us of DC hand guns. She is also a fairly good pilot and mechanic.

Weaknesses:

back when she was a child she had a hard time using the force when when overwhelmed. If the thoughts and feelings of others got to much, she would become force blind. When she grows older, (for certain reasons you will find out later on in. This story) she completely cuts herself off from the force. Unless her emotions get to much go handle, then the force would almost explodes out of her. She also doesn't do well when she's alown. Having grown up in various large family atmospheres. If she is not around people she cares about and loves, she will become closed off a dipressed.

Back story: (now bear with me, this storyline is set before she meets Din, its just an introduction to this character)

Jaig (due to her small Jaig eye like markings, and her father's personal connection to the simble) is the daughter of ex jedi padawan Ahsoka Tano and her mate/husband Captain Rex. She looks mostly human like her father, with the same amber eyes and his family's dark hair. But with the same facial structure of her mother, and a slightly darker and olive tinged skin tone. She also has distinct white making that were almost identical to her mother's. Except instead of diamond shapes on her forehead, she has jaig eye like markings. She was born 6 years after the clone wars ended, while her parents were on the run from the empire. Rex and Ahsoka had found it impossible to part from one another after the events of order 66, and after travelled from place to place avoiding the empire for a long time. Their feelings for one another grow, and they eventually married through the use of mandalorian marriage vows.

They built a home in the stars, and after a few years, to their great surprise and happiness they conserved and had Jaig. Things were finally looking up with the birth of their new found hope for the future.

(Their new found hope for the future/baby Jaig by madmiriam (me)

But it was not to last. It was hard enough to hide themselves, a clone and a ex jedi from the empire. But now adding a force sensative baby to the mix as well, it made it damn near impossible for them all to stay together. Which; after a terrifying encounter with one of the Empires Inquisitors, forced them to make the difficult decision to part ways. Rex would head off insearch for a new home and hopefully find and de-chip as many brothers as he could. While ahsoka would keep traveling around the stars with Jaig. Avoiding the empire and its ruthless inquisitors, whilst trying to help Jaig build up her Shields. They both agreed to keep in touch and once Jaig's Shields were up and safely secure,(which for the average youngling would take 5 years or so) they would rejoin each other and dicided what to do next. But a year after their separation Rex's comms and messeges had stopped all together, and by the time Jaig had reached the age of five and had built up some suitable shields around her mind, neither she or her mother had herd from her father in over 4 years. Her mother was adament he was still alive, but as she grew older Jaig had a hard time believing her. For if he was alive why hadn't he come to find them? Why was he not answering her mothers messages that she still sent on a regular basis?

By the time she was 6 her mother was approached by Bail Organa, in regards to starting a rebellion, and that is what they spent the next 4 years working towards, staying in the shadows gradually building up a resistance to eventually overthrow the empire.

She and her mother met the ghost crew when she was 9 (the same age Anakin had been when he was found by qui gon) and after an uncomfortably close encounter with a mysterious Sith lord called Darth Vader, Jaig's mother disided it was time to bring her father into the fold, and sent Jaig of with the ghost crew to find Rex.

When meeting her father she had opted to wear a scarf to cover her face markings and, chose to withhold her name, and who she was until she found out more about the man who was her father. She was apprehensive about him. As she had no memorie of her dad, for she was only a baby when he left. The only thing she did have, was this warm comforting feeling that she felt whenever her mother spoke of him. A feeling of being held to a large ferm chest in two equally large and ferm muscular arms. Wrapped in a soft wool blanket. Her mother told her that this was the force making an imprint on one of the more emotional moments of her like. But all the same, she proffered to be cautious.

After spending some time with Rex and his bothers. She found her self really enjoying there company. Aspecially her father's. Who dispite having no idea who she was, had already shown that he had a clear paternal instinct. Particularly when teaching her and Ezra how to fish for "Big Bongo". However Kanan who clearly didn't trust Rex or his brothers had spent most of his time hovering around ether her or Ezra protectively, eventually telling them about his exspirence with order 66, an event her mother never talked about.

After seeing the heartbreak on her father's eyes at the memories he and Kanan spoke of. She desided it was time to tell him who she was. But that decision was cut short however when she overheard Rex telling Ezra that he wasn't going to come back with them. Even though he now knew her mother was alive (1 year after separating when the message's stopped he thought both his wife and child to be dead) Jaig ran of in tears when hearing this. She climbing down the ladder of the the AT-TE and walked ferther in front of the walking monstrosity. Away from everyone else. She had finally gotten used to the idea of her father coming back with them. Had become exited by it even. But now, the fact that he was refusing to come with them. Back to his home, his wife, to her. It hurt and overwhelmed her, more than she could say.

She didn't however see what happened after. When Sebine came out and acused Rex of selling them out, of contacting the empire and never answering Ahsoka's messages; at which point he finds out about how Wolfe had withheld all the messages from Ahsoka for 8 years. Thinking he was protecting his brothers from a potentially vengeful jedi. Rex was furious at Wolfe for hiding his own wife's messages to him, and coursing him to miss so much of his only child's life.

Rex: "we have a daughter Wolfe!!! My Jaig, my baby girl doesn't even know who I am because of you!!!"

Wolfe:(was shocked and full of regret when hearing this) "I.. I.. Didn't know... Rex I'm sorry, I didnt know"

Ezra:(recordnises the name) "wait Jaig? you meen our Jaig, Jaigs your daughter?"

Rex: "wait what?"

At this point they hear a shrill scream coming from down in front of the AT-TE. It was Jaig, she was being attact by the prob droid that had been sent by the empire.

The clones immediately go into action. Rex is handed a rifle and gets ready to shoot the prob as it backs his daughter into the ground. His ames and shoots true, killing the droid with one foul shot and then quickly dashes down to retrieve his daughter from under the sparking remains of the droid.

Jaig is in hysterics at this point. Having been taken by surprise by the droid along with the emotional turmoil of potentially losing her father all over again. She then resigned herself to just sit there and cry over how foolish she was for even seeing the attack coming. But now she was being held in the familiar strong arms of her father as he held his only child for the first time in over 8 years.

Rex: "I'm here sh shh, I'm here Ik'aad senaar (baby bird, a nickname he gave her as an infant) daddy's here, daddy's got you"

He says carefully stocking her familiar dark brown hair (that was now flowing free as her scarf had fallen loosely around her shoulders, revealing her beautiful face to her father who's eyes were now brimming with unshed tears) to calm her down as he picking her up and takes her back to the AT-TE. Where the others are waiting with bated breaths. Wolfe was holding a blanket out to wrap his shacking niece into and Gregor quickly dashing off to get her a hot chocolate hoping to make her feel better.

Jaig: "I was angry. Upset. You said you weren't coming home and, then everyone felt so angry and scared all at once. It was to much. (sighs) I have a hard time controling the force when I get overwhelmed like that. I couldn't even sence the prob. I'm. I'm sorry"

She exsplans after she sits down and has a few sips of the hot chocolate that had been placed in her hands. Accompanied a number of comforting back rubs from both her father and her uncles.

Wolfe apologies to her. Explains that he's the reason her father had been out of her life for so long. That he was just trying to protect his brothers but ended up hurting his other family because of it. And tells her he understands if she hates him.

Jaig: "your Wolfe aren't you? Uncle Wolfe? Mum (she has a slight clone like accent that they haven't noticed before) told me about you, said you worked with Grandpa Plo"

Wolfe: 😳"Grandpa Plo? 😂 Boy he would have loved to have herd you say that"

He said, both of them smile at each other, Jaig having forgiven her uncle for his laps in judgment.

All seemed well again until the empire calls them back to get the clones to hand over the rebels. The clones now fueled by the new found need to keep their new family out of harms way, tells the empire where they can stick it, and quickly try to usher the ghost crew along with Jaig into the phantom so they can escape While they all get ready to fight.

Jaig: "but I just found you, mum told me to bring you home, I can't leave you behind, da.. Please don't go"

She says clutching at his shirt as he huged her tight before holding her out to face him,

Rex:"no one's abandoning anyone. Jaig look at me (tilting her head to look. Into her eyes, eyes that matched her father's) we're soldiers Ik'aad senaar, this is what we were born to do, but this time we have something to fight for.. Its going to be OK, (presses his forehead against hers) I love you my Jaig eyes, I've loved you from the I first held you. Ha you were so tiny. I didn't want to let you go back then and I don't want to do it again now, but like last time it's something I have to do, to keep you safe, my Ik'aad senaar, (kissed her forhead lovingly) tell your mother I'm sorry I couldn't make it home, and... And I love her ok."

He says before sending her back into the phantom, closing the door behind her before she can stop him.

Things then pan out like it does in the show, the phantom goes back to help the clones take down the walkers and Rex then decides he's not gonna spend any more of time away from Ahsoka and Jaig and choses to return with them and join the rebellion.

The reauion between Rex and Ahsoka continues the same, but insted of just a hug Ahsoka goes in for the kiss (how it should have always been in my opinion).

(this art work was done by @nottonyharrison (please note: this image was used with the permission of the artist,) please go check them out, as you can see their art work is stunning)

They spend most of there time with the ghost crew, Ahsoka makes the Ghost her base to return to after missions, and Rex teaching combat and war strategies to both Ezra and Jaig, but mostly to Ezra, Jaig was; in his opinion still to young to get to deep into the oncoming war.

Rex:"let her be a kid for a little longer at least".

Jaig and Ezra had eventually become good friends, Jaig looking up to him as something of an older brother, following him every where he went like a little shadow. At first Ezra was annoyed, and try to get away from her at every turn. But after a while he found he quite like having someone look up to him for a change. As before her, he had been dubed the baby of the group with the most to learn. But now he had Jaig hanging on his evey word like it was gold. He found he enjoyed the new found responsibility.

Unfortunately with her shadowing Ezra so much. This meant she got into all kinds of trouble with him. Trouble that mostly involved them running down the corridor with an angry Zeb chasing after them. Zeb really didn't seem to like Jaig very much. Said it was like having two Ezras, and one was quite enough. However other trouble also included a short but terrible trip to malachor, where after being told she can't come along she choses to stow herself away on the phantom in the small rashon hold built into the floor, shielding her mind from her mother as they flow through space.

Ahsoka: (on a call to Rex) "well I definitely out rank you😉... 😟How Jaig doing?"

Rex: "welp she's not happy, she gone and hidden herself in one of thoughs little critter caves again, I'm making her favorite tonight so I know she'll show up by dinner time, but all the same😔..."

Ahsoka: "hay don't take it to heart Rex, you and I both know this is how she deals with being left behind for anything, she finds a small place to hide and sulk it out, just be ready with a plate of nuna and a hug and she bounces right back😄🙁 when she comes out tell her I love her, and I'll be home soon"

Rex: "I will🙂😟... May the force be with you" they hang up.

It's Ezra who ends up finding her, just after they land. Pointing her out to a stressed out Kanan and a very cross Ahsoka,

Ezra: "ummm guys, I think we have a stowaway",

Jaig: "before you get mad..... consider being proud of me, I stayed still for hours in there AND I shielded my mind the whole time, so you non of you even knew I was there"

Ahsoka: "DON'T push it young lady😠what were you thinking!! Your fathers gonna be worried sick!!!! 😤😔 welp since there's no turning back now, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get you back home and thoroughly grounded for a year"

The rest again plays out the same, they find Maul, Maul blinds Kanan, they get the sith holocromb but lose Ahsoka in the fight with Vader, though after seeing Jaig who looks so much like the little snippy girl from his old life, the Anakin in Vader hasitates to kill ahsoka and her child, and insted trys to convince the unwavering togruta to join him with her daughter.

Vader:"the galaxy shall never be safe for her Ahsoka, join me and I can protect her from the emperor. Join me and we can over throw him... Together"

Ahsoka: "how can I trust anything you say. If you were truly Anakin then how can you protect my daughter when you can't even protect yourself"

Jaig: "MUM!!!! MUUUMMMM!!!"

Ahsoka looks at her daughter running to her as the walls of the sith temple come down,

Ahsoka :"I'm sorry Jaig"

She say quietly as she force pushes he child into Ezra outside the temple as it fall around her and Vader out of the site of her family.

When all is quiet and Vader emerges from the rubble, after failing to find his former apprentice, the Anakin in him vows that he will not fail her child, he will do everything in his power to insure his master never find her, even if he has to hide her away himself to do it.

When Kanan, Ezra and Jaig return to base, Rex is in hysterics asking around.

Rex:"have you seen Jaig? Has anyone seen my baby?, its been over two days.. I can't find her..!!."

Jaig:"DADDY!!! 😭"

Rex turns to see her running out of a newly landed phantom in tears. Now knowing exactly where she'd been he quickly runs to her and scoops her up in his arm clucking her close to his chest in relief that she was home.

Rex:"you.. Are going to be the death of me, hey sh shshsh hey, hey what's the tears? what happen? where's your..? ."

(a father's comfort, ruff drawing by madmiriam (me)

He couldn't finish the sentence as he looked around and sure two other people emerging from a now empty ship, neither one of them was his wife. Ezra looked him in the eyes and with out saying a word, he knew. He knew Ahsoka, his Ahsoka was gone. He closed his eyes, sheding one silent tear as he held his girl tighter, and slowly carried her away, away from the crowd, but not away from the heartache.

After the loss of her mother, Jaig's once bubblie personality had diminishes somewhat. She refuses to leave the side of eather her father or the members of the ghost crew. She goes on a few missions with them and liston to every word her father says about ways of fighting, fighting to protect herself and the people she loves. Before heading to a mission on geonosis he gives he one of his old DCs. (its twin had been lost in battle during the clone wars and he had gotten a replacement pear, but he had always kept his first well maintained in case he ever needed it)

Rex: "I know it's no lightsaber, but if will keep you and the others safe when used properly"

Jaig: "I don't want a lightsaber any more, 😔sabers get you killed"

Rex: " not all of them Ik'aad senaar" he sighs kissing her forehead "not all of them".

But even this would not last. When it came time for the empire to attack chopper base. Vader sends his own secret troops of undercover purge troopers to find and retrieve Jaig, and to also fake her death so both the empire and the rebels would not come looking for her. This of corse left Rex in his lowest point yet. After watching the ship he had put his daughter on to be evacuated blow up before it even left the ground. He found it hard to not simply drop all his defences and just calming walk into the flames after her. If it hadn't been for Zeb he probably would have. These kind of thoughts invaded his mind so frequently after that day, it was hard to remember when they didn't. He had lost both his wife and now his child. His hope and his reason for fighting were gone, and he wanted to go after them. But he couldn't. Not while there were still people to fight out there, the people who took everything for him and was still grabbing for more. People who his wife started this whole rebellion to fight against. No, he would keep fighting, as long as there is still even one imperial still left alive he would live and fight, until every last one of then were wiped out of existence. (that's gonna take a while)

Meanwhile Vader and Jaig finally meet properly face to mask. Jaig is having a hard time counselling her fear. But Vader was also having difficulty concealing his pain. Pain that had lingered since the moment he had emerged from that crumbled down sith temple, with no sign in the force or otherwise of his once padawan,. The last family he thought he had, that had not betrayed him, who had(once she had seen his face underneath his freshly cracked mask) said she wouldn't leave him, not again. But she had left him, not by her own design he knew, but she had left him all the same. And she had also left a child behind, a child like the one Padme would have given him if it weren't for both the sith and the jedi.

The jedi, who had forced his hand in turning to the dark side, by telling him he should just let Padme die for the good of the galaxy. The jedi who had abandoned his padawan, his little sister, his first child (if he could go so far as to say) in her time of need, and then exsept her to come back all smiles, acting as though her whole ordel was just a trial to prove herself to them. When it was them who should be providing themselves to her.

And the sith,. The sith who had manipulated him from day one to become what he is now, the sith who had taken every thing he had, his wife, his child, his brother/father figer, his little sister/daughter and his friends. The clones. His home all gone for the sake of his masters new empire😡. Yes he new this had been his master's plan all along, the war the clones, the inhibitor chips. All to gane more and more power for himself and to distroy the jedi in his wake. Dragging Anakin down into the darkness with him, and he would do the same thing to Jaig given the chance. Vader could feel the raw power of the force rolling of her, the energy mix with her fear would be a prime canderdate for Sidious's manipulation, should he ever discover her existence.

No!!! That would not happen, neither the sith or the jedi would have her, he would not alow it.

Jaig:"I know who you are.. I know what you did... You tryed to turn my mother before killing her, but you wouldn't turn me, you hear me, I.. Will.. Not... Turn"

She says her voice shacking with her body in fear.

Vader:"no... You will not..."

Jaig: "then why am I here? I haven't done anything to make you hate me.... At least... I don't think I have"

Vader:"I do not hate you Jaig, like your mother, much to my masters great..... disappointment... I could never hate you"

It was true. He couldn't hate her. Couldn't bring himself to hate her. But he couldn't love her either. He had no more love left in him to give. But he could protector for the sake of someone he had loved.

Jaig: confused "then.. Then please let me go, I won't tell anyone if that's what your worried about, I just want to go home, I want my dad, please I just want my daddy😰"

Vader: "you father's fate is.... Regrettable. However it is a necessary evil, it is emperative that he believes you to be dead"

Jaig: "why what did he do to you? what did any of my parents ever do to you?!"

Vader: "as shocking as it may sound, these actions are not done out of hate. You will know this soon enough but for now, I must focus on getting you as far away and as hidden as possible" he then calls in a trouper with red and black armor.

Vader: "CC-2224 I trust your men are ready"

Cody: "ready and awaiting orders.. Sir"

Cody says through gritted teeth not bearing to even look at his once general's masked face.

Vader:"good, I trust the surgery was a success for all of them?"

Cody: "yes.. Sir.. Though we are all having adjustment issues due to recent ... and.... less recent events"

Vader: "thoughs... issues.... had better not interfere with the performance of your mission commander, you and your men have been chosen for one reason and one reason only, and it is for your loyalty to her safety. I can feel your hatred for me commander Cody (Cody inhails sharply at the sound of his name) but I also know enough about you and your brother's to know that they will not let this anger get in the way. I trust you all know the consequences that await you should you fail"

He ignites his blood red saber to put more emphasis on his point.

Cody:"yes sir"

Vader:"very well, now take her and go, and protect her with your life, I shall make my own way back to base as some as I can, her training with began immediately after my return, so be sure to proper her, but until then you already know what to do".

Cody noded before walking over to Jaig, then bent down and gently but fermly lifts her out of her seat, and quickly carry her out of the cell, down the hall and, through the, docking Station towards a unmarked referbished gunship.

Jaig: "where are we going? "

She said with a soft whimper. She was relieved to be away from Vader but still felt apprehensive with the idea of being taken away yet again in the arms of this.. Purge trooper, at lest she thinks it's a purge trooper, she had never seen one before so she could only guess.

Cody: "sh sh it's gonna be OK little one, I'm taking you some were safe, but we have to hurry now"

Jaig:"why?"

Cody: "no one on this ship other than Vader knows we're here and we have to keep it that way kid"

Jaig:"why would you need to hide from your own men"

Cody:"cuz you never know whos watching, I'll explain more when we get off this ship and into hyperspace"

Once they were on board the gun ship, that had been modified to acomidate long period space travel. The modifications included everything from comfortable seating to a working hyperdrive. Cody set her down in one of the seats and strapped her fermly in before heading to the cockpit, leaving her now surrounded by four more purge troopers (hardcase, fives, dogma and waxer, who I'm gonna say lived, cuz I have attachment issues, boil is in the cockpit piloting the ship) who are all looking at her intensely through their helmets. (hardcase and fives are in borrowed discises, after Fives finds out about the chips he and hardcase desert the army and decide to strike out on their own to try and find out more about the chips and their perpose, unfortunately they were too late to do anything about it before oder 66 happened. They have been on the run ever since, until Vader aproches them, informing them that he has been keeping tabs on them, and had been insuring the empire believes them both to be dead, and tells them of the mission, they agree to help because it's Rex and ahsoka's daughter they'll be protecting, but only under the condition the they only report to a de-chipped Cody and all other clones included in the mission must also be de-chipped as well. Vader had agreed to this as he was going to have their chips all removed anyway, to prevent any itchy trigger fingers being near his new force sensative)

Once they're in hyperspace Cody returns to the main area of the gun ship, where the other clones are crowed around a frightened looking Jaig

Waxer: "is this her? Wow she looks so much like her mum"

Fives: "she has our eyes though, our wonderfully handsome eyes"

hardcase: "and out hair, Ha!! I knew Rex's hair wasn't naturally blonde😂"

Dogma:" technically Hardcase, her hair being brown isn't proof that his is to, she could have just gotten the hereditary Jango gen of dark hair"

Fives:"aww suck the fun out of it why don't you"

Cody: "guys back up, give her some space, your freaking her out, and take off your buckets, I don't think they're helping"

When their buckets were removed Jaig was shocked to see five versions of her father's face looking down at her, all old and a little worse for where's, but all very much clone. She recordnises three of them from her father's holopad.

Jaig: "Fives?"

Fives:😃 "yeah! Yeah kid, that's me your☝️ Uncle Fives (he kneals down taking her hand in his, giving it a quick squeeze, before turning to Cody) she recordnised me first that must kill you😁"

Cody: 😠 "only cus you have a, dirty great 5 on your forehead You Di'kut"

He said before knealing down in front of her

Cody:"hey kid, sorry I couldn't introduce myself earlier, I'm your.."

Jaig:"Uncle Cody"

Cody:😁 "yeah kid (to Fives) SEE!! over there are your uncles Dogma, Waxer, Hardcase and back there in the cockpit is your uncle Boil, I know your probably not used to this many of us, but there's more we're we came from where we're going, though they live un a different fasilaty to ours, but every single one of them would be whiling to keep you safe if they knew. So you don't have to worry, we're not gonna let anything happen to you"

Jaig "but Vader.."

Cody: (places both hand at the side of her head and looks her dead in the eyes) "isn't going to TUCH you, not if we have anything to say about its, he may be our sponser, and he will be coming round every so often to check on you and train you. But you'll have several hundred or so uncles on the planet ready and waiting with fully loaded blasters should he ever try to hurt you, us 6 especially as we're the only clones there that know about you yet and we're gonna be living under the same roof, as you and one of us will always be close by to help you. OK kid, it's all gonna be ok (he says hugging her) your safe now"

Jaig: "but I don't want to be trained by Vader, I said I wouldn't turn and I meant it"

Cody: "it's alright, its alright. The one thing Vader has assured us of, is it he will not be training you in the dark side. And judging by the amount of effort he's putting into keeping you hidden, I'm inclined to believe him. He told us that you must block your self off from the force, what ever that means. Which is what he's going to show you how to do. Apparently it's the only way to keep the emperor off your scent. But like I said, one of us is always gonna be there should he try anything"

Fives:"yeah we'll look out for you kid, I know you miss your dad, and we're pretty poor substitutes, but we're here for you all the same"

Hardcase:"and we're not leaving anytime soon"

Dogma: "well not if we can help it"

Jaig "but where are we going?"

Cody: smile "to the closest thing we clones have to a home... Kamino"

Kamino had changed over the years, once the emperor had ordered to stop to any more clones creation. The cloning fasilaties had been abandoned by the kaminoans, along with all the rest of the untrained cadets who were all shipped of to the mustafa system to be trained and bred as the empires elite force of purge troopers.

The cloning facilities were left to the old now retired clones, to live out their days away from civilisation, many now wolowing in sadness and regret for their actions under the influence of their now un activated inhibitor chips.

The place Jaig and her other uncles were heading, was just a few hundred miles of from the main cloning compound. It had been kitted out with everything they might need, weaponry, shields, a food station, bedrooms, a bunkhouse, a training ground, and a shooting range. The only beings abord were now the clones, Jaig, the cook and the maintenance crew, well I say crew, it consisted of one male Ugnaught named Kuiil and three droid assistants whom he had reprogrammed to help with any and all clean up and maintenance duties.

Jaig would continue to live out there with her uncles for the next 5 years. They would go on to train her with any and all things clone, weaponry, though she had learnt a lot of that from her father's teachings, and the language and teachings of the mandalorian. The boys were insistent that she learn all of what little they knew of their heritage, as they were all descended from Jango, who was of mandolor. Any clone would tell you how proud the clones were of this heritage, and now they had someone to pass it all down to. They even taught Jaig the mandalorian wars songs that they had all learnt as cadets, and the Clone Haka, that had been performed by many clone troops over the years, before battle,. Much to the confusion and quite frankly terror of the B1 battle droids who witnessed them.

Fives: "ha your mum was pritty good at this to"

Jaig: now 12" my mum knew the Haka? "

She said, trying to picture her calm and serene togrutan mother, chanting, stomping and banging her chest along side millions of clones Warriors, all while making different faces and throatle sounds at the droids on the other side of the battlefield.

Hardcase: "oh yeah!! She was a natural, always shouting the chant in her loudest voice and making her scariest war face, like this 🤪😜🤪"

Fives: "and that my dear Jaig, was when your father fell in love🥰"

Vader came over as often as he could spare, when he was sure he couldn't be directed be his master or that anyone following him. Teaching Jaig how to disconnect herself from the force, telling her that if she continues to use it, the consequences would be severe.

Vader:"if the employer was ever to discover you exsisens, he would hunt you down in an instant, and kill anyone who trys to hide you from him. This is why you must never use the force again, and you must never leave. If anyone outside this fasilaty were to learn of your existence, you would be in mortal danger, as would everyone you care about"

Jaig: "but why couldn't my dad come? You could have had both our deaths faked and brought him here with me"

Vader: sighed "he is to mixed up with the rebel alliance, and besides, it was his reaction that sold your death to the universe. A trick I learned from my old master...the hard way"

He said bitterly.

Jaig knew she should hate him, he had taken her from her home, her friends and family. He had taken her mother, and it was because of his foolish decision to trust, a maniac, power hungy, sith Lord, that her family were forced to live in the shadows, and her mother, and father were force into separation when she was just an infant. She didn't like him by any means, she frequently tryed to avoid his at any turn. But she still couldn't feel hatred for him.

Cody: "na that your mother in you, she was never one to hold much of a grudge ether. She got angry at people don't get me wrong but she never hated them. She cryed over the potential execution of a woman who had Framed her for Murder once. And had taken the time to give all her deceased troops, who had tryed to gun her down a funeral. Even though she and your father where now on the run from the empire"

Over the years living there, she became closer with her uncles, or at least most of them. She argued with Boil on an almost daily basis, but they had their moments, she told him and Waxer how she met Numa, who was still fighting for the freedom of her home. She had a difficult time connecting with Dogma. He was very distance from her and didn't talk much. However she did like listening to him read. Dogma who had been a stiff by the book solder his entire life, and had been through so much, found he secretly quite enjoyed the company of his niece. But she spent most of her training with Fives and Hardcase. Both clones always new how to make her smile and told her many stories of her parents during the war, stories not even her parents had told her, (though they never much liked talking about the war), and she had given them a new lease of life, and new perpose. She was probably closest with Cody, he had know her father since they were both cadets, and was determined to teach her everything he knew, but he also showed his softer side with her. There were many a time he would be seen walking down the corridor carrying the young girl who was really getting a bit to big to be held, in his arms fast asleep from a long day.

She had also become quite good friends with Kuiil the maintenance manger, she learnt that he was paying off his debt to the empire through prolonged servitude, he had been in many battles he didn't believe in, until Vader; after seeing his reprogramming skills had, offered him a place on this secret compound. Kuiil had also taken quite a shine to Jaig, she was kind, and eager to learn the inner workings of the machines he fixed.

But yet again, even this would not last. After the destruction of the First Death Star, Lord Sidious had been furious with Vader, he tortured and demoted him. But through his touture he discovered the existence of the child Vader had taken such lengths to keep hidden from him. And through this new information, he devised a plan.

To brake his apprentices even ferther, he would force him to chose, chose between the life of his padawans child, who he had swarn to protect, and the life of his son, that he did not yet know about. But unfortunately for the emperor, he did not bargain for the tactical brilliance of the Clones.

When the empire, came to take the now 15 year old girl, they had already divested their own escape plan. They sent Jaig along with Kuill over to the kaminoan cloning facilities, turned clone retirement home, before the empire even entered the atmosphere. There she was frozen in to carbonite and fastened to the inside of the newly alcoved underbelly of a small one-seater Y wing (to insure the if the empire should come across them she would be well hidden and undetected, Kuiils cover story being that he was delivering supplies to the clones) there Kuiil would then fly far away from any siverlized planet. While, the clones continued to fight and defend the compound as though she was still there, and then proceed to escape themselves, using an old subship left over from the battle of Kamino. But not before bowing the place sky high, making it seem like the empires had fired at the fewl tanks corsing the whole building to be destroyed along with anyone who was inside.

This was not the out come Sidious had wished for, however with the now almost certain death of his ward, Vader plunged ever ferther into the void of darkness and hate. So the desired effect Sideous was planning for was reached anyway.

After being unfrozen from carbonite, Jaig and Kuiil parted ways. She chose to for her father, but it became fruitless. Chopper base had long since been evacuated and the rebel alliance was always one step ahead of her in their attempts to avoid the empire. For 2 years she searched for them, and fought the Empire where she could, until she finally stopped, delving into the belief that what ever family she knew was now gone, she rejoined Kuiil on a deserted planet called Arvala-7, while the galaxy celebrated the fall of the empire. Where for the next 5 years they would both try to live out their lives in peace, working the land and carrying for blurgs, until a mandolorian arrives on their planet, looking for a little green bounty, which starts of a whole new adventure for our now Adult Jaig.

OK guys let me know how I did, and if you would like to see Jaig's adventures with Din Djarin and little green bean Grogu. Let me know. I'm not much of a writer,. But I always got so irratated when reading Din Djarin/oc fics where to make her interesting, they give the oc force powers, with either no build up to it, or she's a run away jedi, which kind of defeats the whole purpose of season 2 were they're trying to find the jedi, so I thought I'd write my own. I wanted to have a character that has both a clear connection to both the mandalorian culture and the force, without making her a mary su. She has a connection to the force. But she can't use it, or control it. Therefore she can't train Grogu to use it. Which would mean they'd have to find the jedi, to help him learn to control his powers. Plus I don't want to just giving her everything with no preplanned reason. So here is my preplanned reason. I know these short scenes and conversations don't really delve much into her personality but that's were you come in. Tell me what you think of her, and what you think she's like as an adult. I wrote a few things like her kind nature and her sarcastic humour. But I could do with some ideas on what you would like to see. Let me know, and...

May the 4th be with you,😉

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