#he would binge watch the mandalorian

[were-wolverine]

i fully believe one of dean winchester’s favorite movie/show genres would be space western and no one can tell me otherwise

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

A masked surprise

Summary: Letting your friend drag you to a costume halloween party even though all you wanted was to stay home turns out to be the best decision ever

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Rating: T

Warnings: costume parties, halloween, alcohol, missing your husband, reader is Frankie's wife, costumes, surprises, some..... making out, a lot of fluff in this

A/N: This is my fic for the jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge! I chose Frankie and the prompt "masked stranger party" though the stranger turns out to be not that strange at all Tagging @jolapeno & @goodwithcheese I loved writing this and i had so many more ideas for the great prompts!

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Full Masterlist // Frankie Morales Masterlist

„Come ooooon, we gonna be late,“ you heard from downstairs. 

Sighing you looked at yourself in the mirror. You still did not understand how you let yourself talk into going to this halloween costume party. 

You… weren’t a fan of parties.

Being the introvert of your friend group, you were happy just staying home and watching a movie. Or… binge a whole series on Netflix. 

You had a busy job, so you were glad when you were home and got to relax. Of course being home nowadays came also to be a little bittersweet. 

Frankie had been gone for almost nine months and you missed him every single day.

Thankfully this would be his last time on deployment and you were counting the days until he would be home just in time for Thanksgiving. But Thanksgiving still was weeks away and you hadn’t been able to talk to him in the last three weeks with him being on a mission. 

So maybe the reason why you agreed to go to this party was to get you to think about anything else than your husband being away for one evening.

Taking one last look at the mirror to check your outfit, the stewardess costume being a little tighter than it had been the night you had met Frankie almost six years ago, you gave yourself a small smile. 

He had been dressed as a pilot, and you had been a stewardess. Your friends were teasing the two of you to this day that you ending up together had been written in the stars from the moment you met.

Just a couple more weeks until he would be home.

You could do this.

It was a friend of your friends friend that was hosting this party. 

You had gotten here almost an hour ago and were on your second drink. The music was blasting and you were talking to a woman in a very impressive Mandalorian costume when you felt like someone was watching you. 

Looking over your shoulder you couldn’t pinpoint If someone was actually watching you, with the amount of people in the room. Letting your gaze wander through the room your eyes lingered on a tall person wearing a ghostface mask leaning against the wall on the other side of the room, a beer in their hands. 

Your lips twitched into a small smile when you saw someone dressed in a full Luigi costume fist bump into their shoulder before you turned back to the Mandalorian in front of you.

„This might be super forward but… do you think we could go out for dinner sometime?“ The Mandalorian lady, Tess, asked you. You couldn’t hide the surprise at hearing this question, giving her a small smile.

„I’m sorry. I’m already taken. I feel very flattered though. Never had a Mandalorian hit on me,“ you smiled at her and she sighed with a wistful smile. 

„Should have known. Where is your….?“ 

„Husband. My husband. He’s currently on deployment. I am counting the days until he gets back,“ you said, taking a sip from your drink. 

„Oh that must be so hard,“ she said.

„Let’s just say I am glad when he’s back for good. The last six years were a challenge with him being away so often. But he’s… he’s the love of my life,“ you shrugged with a dreamy smile.

„Oh ugh are you talking about Frankie again?“ Your friend teased you while she put an arm around your waist. 

„Stop bullying me,“ you playfully slapped her arm, making her laugh. 

„Nah. Frankie is okay. I’m fully prepared to not see you for weeks once he’s back,“ she wiggled her eyebrows and you rolled your eyes. 

She wasn’t wrong though. The last time Frankie had been on leave you barely had left the house for the first two weeks.

„Anyway. Let’s stop moping about my husband and maybe…. Dance?“ You looked at your friend whose eyes lit up. 

„Yes please. The guy I just flirted with was gay. I was blinded by the firemen costume. I need to dance these awkward feelings away,“ she awkwardly laughed, before she pulled you to the dance floor. 

You felt like someone was watching you again. I mean there were a couple people watching you probably. You were trying your best impression of the Wednesday dance from the Netflix series, you and your friend laughing almost maniacally while doing it. 

„I’m gonna get another drink, you want one?“ Your friend yelled and you nodded. The song changed to a Prince song and you continued to dance, enjoying yourself. It took you a moment to realise there was someone behind you. Slowly turning around there they were. Mysterious ghostface mask, dancing with someone dressed as Mario and you wondered if Luigi, Mario and ghostface knew each other. You gave them a smile before you turned away, continuing to dance.

Once your friend got there to get you your drink, she said that she’ll go to the bathroom. Nodding you told her you’d wait outside for her, needing a bit of fresh air. 

This was how you found yourself sitting outside, the music still blasting. 

You had a drink and a hot dog.

And you were a little tipsy. 

Smiling to yourself you bit into your food when you heard the door open. Looking over your shoulder you saw ghostface mask stepping on the porch. 

„You know I never saw Scream?,“ you said before you turned away from them, continuing to eat. 

„I actually don’t like horror movies at all. I’m getting scared way to easily, my husband thinks it’s hilarious,“ you hummed. When the person didn’t say anything you turned around again, your eyes widening when the familiar brown eyes of your husband were staring back at you. He was smiling sheepishly at you, the ghostface mask still in one of his hands. 

The hotdog fell to the ground as you jumped up from were you were sitting. 

„Frankie?“ You whispered with wide eyes. 

„Hi baby,“ he grinned.

„Am I hallucinating?“ You asked and he chuckled, shaking his head. 

„I’m back baby. For good,“ he said and before you could stop yourself you were walking over to him, falling into his arms that wrapped around you, pulling you closer. You took a deep breath, just inhaling his scent that you missed so much.

„Have you been watching me?“ You asked, resting your chin against his chest, looking up at him. He leaned down, kissing your nose.

„Since you got here. Will and Ben are here too. They’re in the Mario and Luigi costumes,“ he grinned and you chuckled. 

„I missed you,“ you whispered and he finally leaned down to kiss you softly. You brushed one of your hands through his hair, deepening the kiss. He hummed against your lips, one of his hands on the back of your neck to get you even closer. 

„Woah,“ you heard behind you and you parted from Frankie’s lips, looking behind him to find your friend grinning at you. 

„You’re welcome,“ they winked. 

„You knew?“ You asked surprised. 

„Of course I knew. Now you can stop mopping about him coming home,“ they winked. 

„You really missed me, huh?“ Frankie teased and you hid against his chest.

„We had six days after we got married before you had to leave. Of course I missed you,“ you said and he kissed your forehead. 

„You wanna stay or you wanna get home?“ He asked, voice low. 

„Home. Definitely home,“ you said quickly and he winked.

„Uhm we are going home. Is that okay? I feel bad because we got here together and…“ your friend stopped you. 

„Please. I’ll get Mario or Luigi to take me home, don’t worry,“ they grinned and you laughed. 

„Okay,“ you reluctantly got out of Frankie’s arms to go over and hug them. 

„Thank you,“ you whispered and they just squeezed your tighter.

„Get out of here,“ they chuckled and you walked back to Frankie, taking his hand. 

You were waiting for an uber outside when you noticed him still holding the ghost face mask, about to throw it in the trash. 

„Uh…. You should keep that,“ you said quickly and he turned to you, narrowing his eyes. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked up at him and his eyes darkened. 

He put the mask into the back of his jeans before he pulled you back into his arms. 

„Kinky,“ he whispered against your lips before he kissed you again. 

„You love it,“ you mumbled. 

„I really fucking do,“ he grinned and kissed you again. 

[mistydeyes]

eyes for the stars

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summary: The 141 boys can't help but feel slightly jealous about your celebrity crush. They can't help but wonder why you're so obsessed with them.

pairing: 141 x civvie! Reader

warnings: swearing, spoilers for Euphoria!

a/n: a little self indulgent because i too have all of these crushes (love my problematic ladies, sydney and phoebe <;3)

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price: pedro pascal

The minute you laid eyes on him you were hooked. From episode 1 of The Last of Us, Pedro became your very apparent celebrity crush. Who doesn’t love a strong parental figure who will do anything for his unconventional child?

Ever the observer, Price noticed how your Instagram stories were filled with reposts of Pedro at award shows, magazine covers, and even behind-the-shoot pictures. He even noticed the growing collection in your shared home of Mandalorian memorabilia. He couldn't help but feel hurt that his partner posted a celebrity more than him.

As Gaz looked over his shoulder he commented, "Looks like a more handsome version of you, Sir." "Get back to work, Sergeant" Price commanded, before shoving his phone back in his pocket. He couldn't believe that this was getting to him.

“You have a type, love,” Price said as you sat watching another episode of Narcos. It was your turn to pick a show to binge and of course, you picked this one. Price secretly wished you spent his leave watching anything else. You were glued to the screen as you sat in your boyfriend’s arms. “I do not,” you argued, “you and he are so different.” You rolled your eyes and he let out a small chuckle.

“He’s an older man who is surprisingly resourceful and doesn’t let many people in until he’s given someone to protect with his life,” he began and you realized the similarities, “Plus, look at him. I might start shaving my beard and only having a mustache for you.”

As the realization hit you, you couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed at his observations. You paused the episode and held his face gently. "I'd much rather have this mustached face here with me than him," you said and shared a loving kiss.

Price was later happy to say that your stories of the man were significantly less than before. Good thing he didn't see your phone wallpaper was of the very famous Pedro Pascal edit (yk the one).

soap: sydney sweeney

You both were unapologetic about your love for the problematic blonde on Euphoria. Although you couldn't condone her rumors about Glen Powell, you couldn't help but obsess over the gorgeous woman. A new Syd’s garage TikTok? Queue you running around your house to find your boyfriend. You both religiously watched her in episodes of The Handmaid’s Tale and White Lotus. Don’t even get me started on when she appeared on the red carpet, your texts were flooded with pictures and emojis.

There was always one rule between you and Soap: don't watch any Sydney Sweeney movies or shows without the other. He instituted that rule once the new Euphoria season was predicted to come out. As he left for another mission for the 141, he kissed you and said, "No Sydney without me, promise?" As you gave him your pinky, you wouldn't realize you would be breaking that rule later on that year.

To be fair, no one could have predicted that their mission would have taken until the end of November. Also, it was technically Soap's fault for not binging the show before he was deployed. However, since the call to duty was ever present, he didn't want to start a show without knowing he could finish it. You waited until August to finally start it. You had been dying since the season ended in February and had blocked all spoilers.

The minute the show started, you knew you couldn't stop. The plot line between Nate and Cassie was just TOO GOOD. Hours later, you had finished and were ashamed of yourself. You just had to know how the drama between Maddy and Cassie ended. Logging out of your account, you tried to hide all the evidence before your boyfriend inevitably came home.

It was December when Soap returned, excited to be home with you and even more excited to start Season 2 of Euphoria. As you made you both some popcorn, you heard an ear-piercing scream from the living room. You rushed over to see what happened but Soap stood there with a shocked face. "Bonnie, why does HBO say you finished all the episodes?" he accused and you knew you were done for. "I-" you started before he interrupted. "You betrayed me, worse than Graves," he said almost as if he was crying. As you looked at him sheepishly he said in a soft voice, "Please tell me that the rumors about Cassie and Nate aren't true."

gaz: henry cavill

Who could compete with Superman? Certainly not Gaz, in fact, he would get a little jealous when you mentioned your little crush. You loved Henry Cavill specifically the DC Comic version of him, not The Witcher. Gaz regretted ever letting Soap get you into the new films.

For the past year, your boyfriend would not hear the end of your pining for the dark-haired beauty. You were non-stop, always talking about his latest interviews and always having his films on repeat. Gaz even had to stop you from putting a framed picture of Henry on your fireplace mantle. You finally agreed that Henry belonged on screen, not in a frame along with your loved ones and your boyfriend.

Gaz miraculously was home for Halloween, a first! You had been invited to a party by your friends and decided on a Cat Woman costume. Oddly enough, when you asked Gaz what he was wearing, he said he already had it covered. This was his chance to show you who the real hero was. You tried to find out the best you could (even looking through his search history) but you could not find what it was.

"Babe, can you at least tell me you're on theme?" you asked over the phone, it was a few weeks before his return and you were anxious to know his secret costume. "Trust me, love, you'll be pleasantly surprised" he answered and you audibly groaned at his mysterious tone.

“Kyle, are you ready?” you called, dressed in your Cat Woman costume. You loved Lois Lane but something about the powerful energy Selena Kyle had plus her sexy attire made you pick this instead. As you adjusted your all-black outfit in the mirror, you heard your boyfriend descend the stairs. You turned around to see him dressed in Superman’s signature costume. The costume was of surprising quality, perfectly defining your boyfriend's physique and making his butt look great.

“I heard there’s someone who needs a superhero,” he triumphantly said as he struck a pose. You smiled widely and took many pictures. “You look amazing, babe! This is just like the movies,” you said excitedly as you kissed him on the cheek. “Bought it just for you” he winked, “Gotta let you know who the real hero is.” You laughed and punched his arm lightly. “Let’s go my Lois Lane,” he said and you grabbed his hand, getting ready to face the world with your hero.

ghost: phoebe bridgers

Now Ghost isn't like the rest of the 141 boys, he won't let his jealousy get the better of him. BUT COME ON, you were in love with Phoebe Bridgers, the haunting singer of Boygenius whose grey hair glistened in the moonlight. You owned every single record of hers and constantly pined over the TikTok videos of her on Taylor Swift's tour. You even bought you and Ghost her matching sweatpants with bones on the front and her name on the butt. He wouldn't admit it but he did love her style. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little twinge of jealousy whenever Kyoto came on the radio.

While on duty, Ghost could feel his phone ring. He answered immediately, knowing you only called for emergencies. He was greeted by you screaming. "BOYGENIUS IS COMING TO LONDON WE HAVE TO GO!!" you yelled excitedly. Ghost mentally slapped himself, he would have to remind you that this line was only for major injuries or death. "Love, Boygenius is not an emergency," he said sternly before you responded, "SIMON, PHOEBE FUCKING BRIDGERS WILL BE SHARING THE SAME AIR AS US," you yelled back. Ghost was glad no one was around because he would never hear the end of it. "Calm down, I'll see what I can do," he said before reiterating his love for you and hanging up.

When Ghost returned home, you were in a deep depression. You opened the door and looked sadder than he had ever seen you. "What's wrong?" he asked, closing the door behind him and taking you into his arms. You let out a few tears as you sat on the couch together. He noted you were all decked out in one of your many Phoebe hoodies and shorts. "I wasn't able to get tickets," you sniffled, "they sold out immediately." You knew it was stupid but your heart was crushed. You would never get to see her live.

"Well good thing I know a thing or two about computers," he said before pulling out his phone to show you a confirmation email. Your eyes widened when you saw he had secured VIP tickets to meet the band and watch from the pit. "Happy anniversary, my love," he said and you were speechless for a moment. "Simon, I think I could marry you," you whispered as you hugged him tightly. "Anything for you darling," he said and kissed you. As you excitedly confirmed all the details and peeked at the set list, Ghost felt the need to poke fun at you. "Do you love her because she has a thing for skeletons too?" That earned him a light slap to the chest.

The day of the concert, you could've fainted upon meeting the band. They were all so much cooler than you could have ever imagined. As you talked Julien's and Lucy's ears off, Phoebe walked up to Ghost. "Sick mask dude, gotta get me one of those," she said in her deep, chill voice. Moments later, Ghost almost had to subdue you as you tried to force the mask off his face to give it to her.

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[danaewrites]

Helmet Over Heels

part i: the winter of our discontent

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.8k

summary:  When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives. 

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

hello and welcome to my first ever mando fic!! i binged the entirety of the first two seasons in a week to get me through tedious internship work and accidentally fell in love with our favorite space dad and his cute green child along the way. oops (i regret nothing)

with the outline i currently have for this fic, it’ll be around 11-12 chapters, although that’s likely to grow as we get deeper into the story. the posting schedule might be anywhere from once a week to once a month, but this wip *will* be finished.

the second chapter's scheduled to upload next week as a little treat for y'all, so if you want to catch it then hit that follow button or ask to be added to my taglist! ;)

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v coming soon!

You watched the last of tonight’s drunken patrons stumble out of the cantina and into the bitter Nath night with a relieved sigh. Wiping your hands on the stained apron tied around your waist, you fished a set of bronze keys out of a tiny pocket and began your nightly walk around the perimeter of the bar, locking doors and pulling down rusty shutters as you went. The cantina was silent aside from your quiet shuffling– a welcome reprieve from its usual crowded bustle and chatter so hectic you could barely hear your own thoughts. 

You hummed softly as you adjusted booths back to their original positions and swept crumbs off of battered tabletops, wishing that the small holospeaker at the edge of the room hadn’t been broken in a recent bar fight. Swaying to its pre-Imperial oldies throughout your long, exhausting shifts had been one of the only perks of working in this run-down cantina, but without the soothing ambience of music, a chill threatened to sink into your bones and paralyze you with the deep depression this side of the planet seemed to have succumbed to.

You never planned to stay here for as long as you had. No one really did, except for criminals who knew that no one would willingly come here to search for them and locals who had never known anything else. Nath might have been charming, once– all soft snowflakes and peaceful walks under sepia-toned streetlights– but that was before the Empire had destroyed every semblance of comfort and culture and replaced them with brutalist brick structures that were already crumbling under the weight of their makers’ crimes. The fear lingered long after the Imps had finally left the post, reflected in the sad eyes of the fishmongers’ children and the way one would be hard-pressed to find a factory worker who didn’t spend his nights nursing a bottle and the ghosts of blaster scars across his back.

You had your own scars, of course, but you still held out hope that things would change and you’d make it out of here– although that hope was gradually diminishing as off-world shuttles visited less and less frequently and the permanent winter worsened. Five years ago, you’d been unceremoniously dropped off at the town’s dingy port, forced to land after your shuttle to Corellia was damaged by an unexpected detour through an asteroid field. You’d taken the cantina job thinking you’d only stay long enough to pay for passage on an outgoing ship, but soon learned that any shuttle risking the terrible weather to land here would also charge an exorbitant boarding price– one that would take you years to afford with the meager pay you received. And your tentative plan of stowing away on a spice freighter and sneaking off once it arrived at its destination (you weren’t picky about where, so long as it wasn’t Nath) was tempered by the increasingly likelihood that you’d get blown to pieces the minute you entered space by one of the pirate gangs that ruled the atmosphere these days. So– you were stuck here, at least for now.

The smell of something burning in the back of the cantina drew you out of your thoughts. Cursing, you raced to the kitchen, where your dinner was quickly blackening on the stove. Kriff. You shut off the burner, staring at the charred mess before you for a few seconds before dejectedly scraping it into an almost-overflowing trash bin. Well, there went your plan to eat quickly and head to your tiny flat before the storm outside worsened. Your rental pod had barely enough space for your bed and a miniscule bathroom, so you had to use the cantina kitchen if you wanted to stay fed– but the stove here was so old, it took half an hour longer than usual to cook anything. You resigned yourself to another night sleeping in a booth, since the flurry outside would prevent you from navigating your way home safely. 

You sliced up a few vegetables and set them to simmer in a pot with the last of the herbed broth and sandseed noodles from today’s lunch special, glancing at the bin next to you. It was probably a good idea to take out the foul-smelling waste before you were sealed in next to it all night. Wrinkling your nose at the unappealing scraps of food threatening to fall off the top of the pile, you hefted the bin up and maneuvered it through the back door of the cantina, being careful not to stain your apron any more than it already was. The harsh winds nipped at every sliver of exposed skin and dusted your hair with a pearlescent sheen of snow, making you wish you’d thought to slip on something warmer than your thin blouse and trousers before leaving the protection of the kitchen.

You navigated through the blizzard to the end of the dark alleyway behind the cantina, your path lit only by two buzzing lamps at each end of the narrow corridor. You scrunched your face up against the cold, willing yourself to keep walking despite your extremely limited night vision. Just a few more steps, and then you’d be free of your compostable burden for the night. You turned the corner, stepping to the left where you knew the trash compactor was, and immediately collided with a giant hunk of metal.

Said hunk of metal cursed loudly as it stumbled head-first over the garbage bin you’d dropped in shock after the impact, falling forward into the snow. “Dank ferrik!” 

Your eyes grew wide as the glow of the flickering streetlights illuminated the very-much-alive Mandalorian lying in front of you. It was just your luck that you’d managed to potentially injure the kind of warrior you’d only heard about in hushed rumors, or at least someone who was wearing the armor of one. Okay, injure was a strong word, but all that cold, hard beskar couldn’t be very comfortable to fall on despite the protection it offered. 

“Stars, I’m so sorry, let me–” 

You reached forward, stretching out a hand to help the Mandalorian up when a small green head suddenly popped up out of a tawny bag slung across their side. You yelped in surprise, losing your balance on the icy road and toppling forward. You winced, bracing yourself and preparing for the inevitable impact– except right as you were about to hit the ground, one steel-clad arm shot out to grab your wrist while the other steadied your hips. You gasped at the warmth of the unexpected contact, pulse quickening as you stared at the–man? person?–beneath you, the only thing preventing you from a nasty collection of bruises appearing across your side tomorrow. 

A deep baritone sounded from the helmet– likely modulated, from the slightly grainy tone. “Are you alright?”

Definitely a man, then. You pointedly ignored the butterflies that stirred to life in your stomach at the sound of his voice, praying that he would attribute your shiver to the cold and nothing more. Stars, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute. You tucked away the thought, making a note to do some serious soul-searching later on about the depth of your touch-starvation and its potential impact on your mental state. 

You gave a quick nod, muttering your thanks and carefully rolling to the side as you dusted clumps of snow off of your trousers. You looked up at him to see him gently picking up the little green creature you’d been so startled by earlier and tucking it back into the bag, pulling his cloak over its head to shield it from the chill. That was… rather cute, actually. You thought Mandalorians were supposed to be scary fighters, dedicated to nothing but their Creed, but this one was clearly fond of the small thing clinging to him. You couldn’t blame him; the green creature’s big ears and bug eyes were adorably endearing. 

The cold winds picked up pace, and you wondered why anyone would be out here during such a storm as you got to your feet. Anyone local would have sought shelter hours ago, and no freighter would dare to land in such conditions. 

“Are you... lost?” You tentatively asked. “Can I help you find someone?”

The Mandalorian remained silent for several long seconds, helmet tilted slightly. Whatever he saw in your face seemed to have settled well with him, and he released a quiet huff through the modulator.

“I need to get food. For my son,” he eventually admitted, gesturing to the baby peeking up at you. 

“Oh!” You brightened up considerably as you remembered the flavorful soup you’d started earlier. “Well– I work in a cantina back there,” you said, pointing behind you at the rusted door that led to the kitchen.

“We’re technically closed right now, but I’m sure I can work something out.” You winked at the curious child, smiling as he let out a happy babble. 

The Mandalorian’s helmet hadn’t moved from its focus in your direction, and you suddenly felt nervous. Which seemed stupid, because–yeah, it felt intense, but was he even looking at you from behind the dark visor of his helmet? For all you knew, he was making the most ridiculous expression at you behind all that beskar and you’d never know. The absurd thought made you snicker softly. If no one could see your face, you’d definitely act goofy at people all the time.

The Mandalorian’s head tilted slightly, and whoops, he’d definitely noticed your little moment now if he hadn’t been paying attention before. Your face reddened and you quickly gestured for him to follow you as you unlocked the door to the kitchen, relieved when you heard the soft clink of his armor come through the doorway behind you.

You placed your hands on your hips, surveying the dimly lit cantina and deciding to lead the duo to a worn table close to the bar. It looked unassuming, but the chairs were the comfiest in the cantina and you figured the baby would appreciate something softer than the coarse bag he’d been in. 

Once they’d gotten settled in, you set about finding a mug of blue milk for the kid and some water for the Mandalorian. You brought the drinks over to the pair, hiding a smile at how eagerly the little green baby reached for his. 

“You’re pretty thirsty, huh?” You observed as the baby slurped up the cerulean beverage. Shooting the tall, beskar-clad man a glance out of the corner of your eye, you continued, “Must have been quite the trip. Most people don’t usually travel to this side of the galaxy for vacation.”

To your disappointment, the Mandalorian remained as still and stoic as ever. Well, that just wouldn’t do. He was your first visitor in years from anywhere outside of Nath, and you were absolutely not letting him leave without getting a bit of juicy detail on life outside of your current drudgery. You decided to go for another angle.

“You know, kids need good role models in their lives. Ones that show them how to socialize with others and communicate. Display generosity of the loquacious sort, even.” You shrugged innocently in your best attempt to mimic the overly casual air the old women at the tea shop always used before passive-aggressively attempting to set you up with their stay-at-home-nephews. “Never too late to start.”

You got the distinct feeling that he was laughing at you under that helmet. Rude. Huffing, you sat down across the table from him and crossed your arms, trying to guess where under his visor his eyes were. Once you were half-confident that you’d found the spot, you stared intensely at it with your most intimidating expression. Which wasn’t saying much, seeing as you had the firepower of a soggy Lothkitten and probably came off as more desperate than anything. 

“Isn’t there some sort of honor code for Mandalorians? One that includes being noble to strangers and whatnot?” 

No response. Argh. 

“Well, I’d consider it pretty noble to provide a lonely soul such as myself with a bit of storytelling entertainment on this frigid evenin–”

Your final attempt at prying some information out of the armored man was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen timer beeping increasingly louder and louder until you were sure the whole cantina was vibrating with the tinny noise.

“KRIFF, not again!” 

You bolted out of your seat towards the kitchen, but not before you heard a thinly disguised huff of amusement coming out of the modulator. Okay, he was definitely laughing at you. 

Once you’d successfully saved the soup from imminent destruction-via-cursed-stove and somewhat regained your pride, you finally made your way back to the table with three steaming bowls of noodles. You placed the smallest one in front of the child, who cooed happily and immediately began plopping his hands in the bowl. The Mandalorian huffed in exasperation and began prying little green fingers out of the bowl. “Hey. Quit that, we talked about this,” he grumbled. You winced as broth sloshed out of the bowl, landing dangerously close to the baby’s tunic. The kid’s lower lip started to tremble, a blaring warning sign that a tantrum was going to occur in approximately ten seconds if he wasn’t distracted from his current petulant state. 

“Oh– hey, bug, don’t do that,” you said as both father and son turned to look at you. You leaned closer to the wide-eyed baby and pointed to his bowl. “That’s pretty hard to scoop up, yeah? Look, there are easier ways to eat it,” you explained as you brought the bowl up to your lips and raised an eyebrow, hoping that he would do the same. The kid blinked up at you for several long seconds before turning to his father with outstretched hands. The Mandalorian sighed, but held up the dish as requested. You hid a smile behind your bowl at the sight.

“Good job! Okay, now we’re going to try something fun–” You mimed slurping up the soup with a silly face at the baby, who burbled something incomprehensible in response but finally followed your example and focused on his food.

When you were sure that the baby’s clothes were no longer in danger of being drenched by broth– and by extension, frozen stiff whenever the pair headed back into the storm–you quietly tucked into your own meal, closing your eyes at the warm memories the comforting flavours brought. Not for the first time, you missed the earthy smell and placid weather of your homeworld, a stark contrast to this icy prison of a planet. 

“You are… good with him.” 

Your eyes darted up to find the Mandalorian’s helmet angled directly at you. Your face heated at the observation and you gave a small laugh, willing yourself to resist fidgeting under his gaze.

“I– thank you, I’ve always liked kids. Used to volunteer in the nursery back home, actually, before the Empire stole every resource from it they could.” 

Your eyes widened with sudden realization. “You’re not Imperial, are you?”

The Mandalorian scoffed vehemently, the most emotion he’d displayed since he’d fallen back in the alley. “No.”

Well, that answered a few questions at least. You were prepared to move on from the conversation when he hesitantly spoke, “My ship ran into a few… asteroids. Is there a mechanic nearby?”

You set down your spoon, thinking. The closest asteroid field was four solar systems away and almost entirely inaccessible if one was traveling through hyperspace, so the likelihood that he’d truly run into one was small. In that case, he probably had damage from some kind of fight— seeing as the average pacifist wouldn’t need that much armor— and would want someone reliable who wasn’t going to ask questions about laser-sized holes in his ship’s hull.

He hadn’t tried to kill or rob you yet, so you figured his personal tussles were none of your business and decided to give him an honest recommendation. You directed him to a small mechanical hub close to the ice huts where there were few ships and even fewer nosy citizens. “The owner, Sanna, is the best in town,” you admitted. “I haven’t had the chance to visit her personally, but she’s known for being very discreet.”

He nodded, entering the coordinates you’d given him into some sort of device on his wrist. You tried to contain your pleased expression at correctly guessing his reason for being on Nath. And it had only taken you… well, four tries, but that was better than nothing! 

“What is your price?”

You blinked, confused. “My price?”

There was that increasingly frequent head tilt again. His helmet tipped forward, scanning you. “For the food. And information.” He clarified slowly. 

“Oh,” you spoke, surprised. “It’s okay, I was making dinner for myself anyway. And you’d have found out the location of the mechanic from someone else eventually,” you shrugged. 

You couldn’t see his face, but from the disbelieving tone of his voice you imagined his eyebrows to be raised. “Not many people would turn down credits.” 

You winced, reminded of your costly dream to get off-world, but there was no way you’d accept this stranger’s money for such a small favor when he had a kid he needed to provide for. “Yeah, well. Guess I’m not most people,” you laughed sheepishly. 

The Mandalorian muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like no, you definitely are not. You squinted at him accusingly.

“Hey, you better not be making fun of my interrogation tactics, metal man.” You leaned forward to poke his soup bowl emphatically. Hm, that was strange– he hadn’t so much as touched it. Did Mandalorians follow some kind of special diet? You resolved to look that up the next time you had access to a datapad.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing that to a lonely soul like yourself.” He responded dryly.

You gasped in mock offense, forgetting your previous train of thought and internally groaning that he’d remembered that part of your disastrous attempt to weasel information out of him. Yeesh. Not your most eloquent moment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared,” you shot back in the most syrupy-sweet tone you could muster.

The kid grinned up at you with sharp teeth and blew a soupy bubble towards your face in response. You smiled down at him, adding, “But if you really want to repay me, then bring me back a good story about this little guy the next time you crash land through a— what did you call it? Asteroid field.” You highly doubted the duo would ever willingly return, but if making a deal gave this man peace of mind to know his imaginary debt was settled in some future way then so be it. 

The lights in the cantina began to flicker and you got up with a frown, walking over to the electrical box behind the bar. The dull grey display, crammed with incomprehensibly labelled switches and flashing lights that would give anyone a headache, alerted you that the main generator had been depleted of power. You scrambled over to a window, prying open the shutters a crack only to be met with a dark swirl of snow that completely obscured your view of the street. Stars, the storm had worsened quickly— there was absolutely no chance you were making it home tonight. You slammed the shutter closed and turned around with a grimace that didn’t go unnoticed by the Mandalorian.

“What is it?” He questioned, modulated voice growing wary at the expression on your face.

“We’re running out of power, the main generator’s down from the storm so these lights are going to have to shut off soon. I think there’s enough in the emergency generator to heat the cantina through the night, though.” You hesitated, not sure how to break the bad news. “Unfortunately, the weather is— unmanageable. You’re not making it out of here to the mechanic’s until the blizzard lets up.” 

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, so you continued talking. “I was.. planning on sleeping here tonight.” You muttered, trying to think of a plan. You glanced at the sleepy child resting on the Mandalorian’s beskar chest plate. “I usually keep a couple blankets here for that reason— pretty sure there’s enough to cover the baby, but you might need to be okay with sharing.” 

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, searching your memory for where the emergency supplies were kept. Kriff. How were you supposed to know that you’d be snowed in, and with guests no less? Your grumpy boss really should have put instructions for this type of situation in the closing shift directions instead of the usual “sweep the floors” or your personal favorite: “if the customer creates a corpse, they gotta clean it up themselves”.

The Mandalorian interrupted your musings with a firm, “No need,” gesturing to the charcoal cloak fastened around his pauldrons. You eyed it dubiously, but supposed that the material looked thick enough. That was probably to your benefit, anyway, since you were something of a notorious blanket hog and didn’t think he’d take kindly to having his sheets ripped off him in the dead of night. That seemed like a quick way to wake up with more bruises than you went to sleep with.

“Well— alright then,” you sighed at last, tossing the smaller of your blankets to the man and tucking the other into the side of a nearby booth. “I’ll shut off the lights in a moment. Refresher’s that way, if you need it,” you pointed to the end of a dimly lit hall. The Mandalorian nodded once, then returned his attention to carefully cocooning the child in his lap. You set to work fluffing up your own makeshift bed, folding the cleanest dishtowel you could find into a pillow before trudging over to the light switch and enveloping the room in darkness. 

Quietly feeling your way back to your booth, your eyes adjusted to the pitch-black little by little. You pulled your hair out of its messy updo and curled up on the seat, body slowly relaxing. It was strange, hearing the muffled rhythm of breaths coming from lungs that weren’t your own, but oddly soothing in its own way. 

“G’night,” you mumbled, half-asleep already, consciousness swirled down the psychological drain by the overpowering storm raging outside. The lull-and-hitch of the baby’s soft snores echoing off of solid beskar set you drifting off to sleep faster than you had as a child, so lost to the world that you were sure you dreamed the quiet, belated whisper that sounded back to you.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl

comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

read on: part ii

[djarins-cyare]

So it’s been a year…

One year since Disney released episode 1 season 3 of The Mandalorian

One year since I published chapter 1 of Be-All And Endor

I don’t really remember much of the first 20 weeks of that year, just that it was a flurry of proofreading and finalising and uploading (the hard parts) and comment reading and new friend making and massively appreciating (the wonderful parts).

Proofing and publishing 2 chapters a week with average lengths of around 10k words was exhausting. But for the first 8 of those weeks I had Din Djarin on the screen (intermittently *ahem* but this isn’t a post about the quality of s3) and for the rest of the year I had my readers leaving comments and sending messages, and it was… overwhelmingly the best year of my life.

I mean that. The best year. Ever. Because of you. Any of you, all of you, if you’ve ever even just clicked on my fic and given it chance, you’ve raised the hits on it. Even seeing that metric tick up has made me so thankful.

Because I didn’t think I could write. I always wanted to be an author but never believed in myself.

I did an English degree with writing in mind, but told myself nobody ever does anything with an English degree. I took creative writing modules, and when the published author who ran the class gave me scathing feedback, my dream fully died. I got an okay grade, hardly anything to be proud of, and I graduated and went to work in another industry.

I suffered from clinical depression.

One day many years later, I found a favourite author online and messaged him to ask when his fourth novel in a series was being published, and (emboldened by the anonymity of being online) cheekily offered to proofread it for him. Except he took me seriously and sent me the prologue to see what I could do. Like, for a real book you can buy on Amazon. After feeling sick for two whole days I went all Autistic Obsession on it and sent him back the most thoroughly proofed bit of writing anyone had ever seen. And I got the job. (I say ‘job’, I’d volunteered for free in exchange for the privilege of reading it in advance, so I can only ever call it semi-professional since I didn’t earn from it).

This, amongst other things, lifted me from my depression. I came off the pills and felt happier, more creative. Once the proofing was completed, the author encouraged me to write my own stuff, but whilst I’d gained some confidence… my brain was empty. I had no clamouring stories to get down on the page, no gems ready to polish.

Then in summer 2021, a friend sat me down and showed me the first 3 episodes of the Mandalorian. And my brain chemistry was instantly altered. I binge-watched the first two seasons, by the end of which I was unequivocally in love with Din Djarin, and then I binge-watched them again.

Around that time, I moved to a different country. Well, Wales is still the UK, but it’s a different country to England, and I was now 170 miles away from my friends. I went because as a single woman on a middling salary, London is too expensive to live in and having rid myself of an overbearing long term relationship, I was NOT keen to get into another one just to pay the bills. The pandemic meant I could work remotely, so I upped sticks and moved to Cardiff, resolving to visit my office in London (and my friends) once a month. It’s 2 hours by train, totally doable.

So what to do with all the spare time I suddenly had?

By Easter 2022 I’d started writing. 9 months later (yes, it’s my actual baby), Be-All And Endor was complete and I began publishing alongside season 3’s release.

Now… it has over 62.k views and 1.2k kudos 🥹🤯

Did I think it would be this popular? No way. I can’t even believe it now. I still see SO much wrong with it, which is why I’m still proofreading and editing it.

A professional proofread/edit takes a long time, and if you’re wondering what I’m doing to it, it involves the following:

Checking for things like clichés, non-inclusive language

Checking all adverbs to see if a better word can be used (e.g. ‘bellows’ instead of ‘shouts loudly’… adverbs usually end in -ly and it’s not good to overuse them)

Rephrasing any passive sentences (simply put: ‘the ship is flown by Din’ is passive; ‘Din flies the ship’ is active)

Reducing average sentence length (shorter sentences are easier to read)

Going through every single damn polysyllabic word (e.g. anything that has more than 3-syllables) and seeing if a shorter synonym can be found (this helps the rhythm, as too many long words slows things down and can make readers stumble… and I use them a lot 😖)

Checking the 50 most frequently used words and seeing if I can find synonyms for those (helps give more variety in the language)

Ensuring Din’s name isn’t overused or underused, and adding epithets (e.g. ‘the hunter’ or ‘your Mandalorian’) where it’s overused but it’s too confusing to just say ‘he’/‘him’

These are the big things, but there’s more too - I’m streamlining decisions I made to use certain phrasings throughout; tweaking Din’s word choice here and there to ensure his voice is captured the best way possible; revamping some of the photos. And with all the tiny tweaks, it’s slowly padding things out too… when publishing was done it was 393k, now it’s 403k, although it’s not extra content as such, just better described.

I’m up to chapter 13 so far, and I’ll probably be doing this for another 2 years to get through all 40, because (a) I want to write other things too so that slows down the proofing, and (b) I so badly want to be proud of this project�� everyone’s telling me I should be, and I am in a way… but it’s more gratitude to others than pride in myself… and I feel like if I get this proofing done and finally have a story I’m truly happy with, I can at last let myself be proud of what I achieved here.

I confess, I’m so envious of those who can post something without obsessing over it. I know it’s a facet of my autism, and I’ve long since accepted that my neurodivergent brain will not let me be cool about things other people are cool about. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I should turn it to my advantage, so okay… I’m gonna make this fic the same quality as a published book on your bookshelf. And meanwhile I’m gonna enjoy and love all the fics that people can write and publish with far greater speed than I can, because the greatest thing about this fandom is that every contribution is worthy of appreciation, no matter the author’s experience or writing method. Quality fic isn’t synonymous with proofreading, and I hope it’s clear that I’m describing my obsession with perfecting my own writing, not other people’s. I’ve read so many amazing authors on here, and I want them all to know how much I love their work (any recs are from the bottom of my heart).

So anyway, this long and rambling post has turned into something unintended… I guess you now have some insight into my mind and the origins of Be-All And Endor and the future of it. Not what I meant to do, but I’ll leave it in for context.

Because the real reason I started writing this diatribe was because I wanted to express my true and undying gratitude to everyone who has ever read, commented, or left kudos on my fic over on AO3, and/or messaged me, followed me, interacted with me, or reblogged my masterlist here on tumblr 🧡💚

I know I am insanely lucky to have received the level of support I have, and I don’t take that for granted at all. I want to give back to this fandom, and I love reading and reccing other people’s fics, meeting new moots, and hopefully soon I’ll be publishing new fics for you all to read too. Fresh material is percolating, so it won’t be too long now.

So thank you to everyone who reads this post, you’re the absolute best and I love you more than I have the vocabulary to describe. Please accept a grateful forehead kiss instead 💋

[michi-hawkeye]

If you need a tourniquet or if you wanna turn and quit Know that I'll be by your side << michi u need to tell me moooooooooooore 😍😍😍

I gladly wil! ❤️

The fic is actually a prompt fill, kinley have been dating for six months before shit hits the fan and the fic starts in Tommy’s pov and takes place right in the aftermath of Buck being struck.

Here’s a snippet of the opening (fair warning its in its rough draft stage)

Tommy watches the rain pound onto the ground of the airfield under the safety of the hanger. He had been anxious all shift due to the anticipation of introducing himself to Captain Nash and Sargent Grant-Nash as Buck’s boyfriend tomorrow night and hopefully be able to ask them a question the little black box to go with it tucked away in his locker. Something bigger than that was eating at him now like some premonition that something is going to go wrong tonight, he usually didn’t let storms get to him since it was part of his job to fly through them. Although he knows Buck is out there working right now and he knows his boyfriend is an unintentional danger magnet so him feeling anxious for somewhat no reason is definitely justified. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as he hopes Buck and his team are staying safe out there before he leans away from the hanger door threshold to go and try to focus on keeping his anxiety at bay.

He tries to keep checking his phone at a minimum as much as he is anxious he can’t be distracted, so he goes through the station chores even through he knows they’ve already been done, so he tries to burn out the anxiety by working out. It wasn’t until he was walking out of the showers after his workout he was finally given the reason for his anxiety.

As he’s changing into a new uniform shirt, his phone goes off with the familiar sounds of the wind and percussion instruments that play The Mandalorian theme song, he had made it Eddie’s ring tone on his phone after watching the show with him, Buck and Chris one day and realizing him and Mando have a very similar personality to Eddie’s begrudging annoyance. Eddie is also one of the few people who is on Tommy’s short Do not disturb bypass list, a rock of dread sinks down his stomach as he tries not to think of worse case scenarios but that would be naive with the storm raging outside tonight and how dangerous their jobs are in general.

Before answering the phone he tries to sallow the forming lump in his throat as he takes a moment to look at the photo he had taken of a smiling Eddie who had a arm thrown over a equally smiling Buck’s shoulder, who had his own arms wrapped around Tommy’s shoulders during a guy’s day out which was used for each of their contact photos.

He tries to keep his voice even as he hears an equally breaking breath on the other end of the line when it connects “Eddie what’s wrong?”

“It’s buck—- there was a accident on a call he’s in critical—-“ Eddie takes a shaky breath while Tommy’s heart shatters, “we’re at Cedars get here as fast as possible” we don’t know if he’ll make it goes unsaid, it kicks Tommy to start packing his duffle.

“Eddie what happened at the call?” Tommy asked, he doesn’t want to be in the dark on how his boyfriend had gotten injured enough to be considered critical.

“I’ll tell you more when you get here I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell you right now, drive safe okay”

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can” he blinks away the tears that have been building up, as he listens to the call disconnecting.

“Cap I need to leave family emergency”

—-

Just as he pulls out of the airfield, the bachelor theme plays from his car’s speakers signaling that Maddie is calling, him and Maddie had been binge watching old episodes of the show together when they both had off days in the name of bonding while everyone else had shifts since they couldn't watch the new episodes without chimney, it would have been funny to hear if it wasn’t for the situation at hand, with his eyes still on the road he clicks the green call button on the dashboard screen.

“Tommy” he hears Maddie’s watery voice come through the speakers “did you hear what happened to buck”

He was a only child who has always wanted siblings and having known Maddie these past few months he grew to view her as one, and if she needed him to be strong he’ll try to be, he coughed to try to prevent the impending sob and to try to steady his voice before responding“ Eddie just called me to let me know, I’m heading over there right now”

“Good they’ll both need you”

“I’m here for you too, you know that right?” He asked gently, it always stings when he sees Evan and Maddie throw aside thier mental and emotional well-being in favor of focusing on others like they themselves don’t matter; giving until they break.

“I know but knowing those two Eddie probably saw first hand what had happened, so he’ll need someone to lean on who understands” he thinks back on the stories Buck had mentioned in the past when either one had been injured. They fall into a silence perhaps to let themselves process what's happening.

The silence breaks when he hears the faint barely formed word babbles from Jee-Yun “jelly bean is there?” He had given her the nickname shortly after meeting her and Maddie when he noticed she jumped and skipped around more than walked, and how it must have been a family trait because Buck would do the same given the chance, Maddie and Buck had cracked up when he commented on the shared mannerism.

Maddie gives a sad chuckle “I called Anne and John to pick her up to spend the night with them, they’re planning to meet us at the hospital”

“What about your parents?” Tommy asks, he doesn't trust the buckley parents for shit to care for the sweet girl that he’s starting to let himself view as his niece. He wants to know if they're gonna twiddle their thumbs and not show up for their son again but this time while he’s probably dying.

“I also wanted to warn you too that my parents are coming to the hospital, I know you have your reasons on avoiding them I respect that and this isn't the ideal situation to meet them now, in truth it surprised me that they decided to go at all”

“Maddie they hurt you and Buck, made both your lives hell that's why I avoid them you know that cause if I ever see them I won’t be able to not tell them what I think” he had avoided meeting the Buckley parents the last two nights because how much disdain he had for them but he has enough awareness that two people he cares about still want to try to have that bond and he’ll support them and be there when he helps pick up the pieces when their parents refuse to put in the effort to fix the damage they cause.

“I know, can we continue this later? , I’ll see you at the hospital” he hears Maddie say with a defeated sigh, kicking himself mentally for pushing her at an already stressful time.

He hears Maddie shuffle and with a much brighter tone say “Say bye to Uncle Tommy, Jee” hearing the new title makes him choke on the building lump in his throat.

“Buh Buh, Uh T’my!” Jee says with a giggle, oblivious to what is going on and Tommy hopes when she does learn, Buck will at least be okay by then. He can be strong for her, Maddie, Eddie, and Chris until Evan wakes up

“Bye sweet girl see you soon!” He attempts to say brightly but he can hear how weak it sounds to his own ears. He hears Jee giggle in response before the line disconnects. He lets a few tears fall as he turns another corner on the road towards the hospital.

————————

(You can thank my sister’s car playlist for the title its from Tourniquet by Zach Bryan)

[blackkatmagic]

hi kat! just wanna say i just binge read when the dead tree flowers & arcana, and thank you for introducing me to one granta omega!! i can't believe he's not more well known in sw fandom although his character is just so cool?? alao his background: a force blank person who's the son of qui gonn's former padawan?? like cmon people, the fic potential alone is massive. so once again thank you for writing about him 💕 looking forward to whatever plot he plans next!

I'm so glad you've been enjoying my new fixation lol. Granta is so much fun, and not as obscure as a lot of characters I latch onto, so it's surprising to me too that he's not used more in fandom, even as just an antagonist.

From something entirely different but still Granta-focused:

There's a wild thing bleeding out in the sands of Korriban, collapsed at the feet of the towering statue of a long-dead Sith Lord like some sort of offering.

Myles stops, even though he shouldn’t. Even though there's on a timetable and up against a deadline, and Jaster will definitely do something stupid if he’s left alone for more than thirty minutes. Something catches his eye, though, pulls his feet to a stop in the deep red sand, and he turns and looks despite all the stories, despite all the good sense he likes to think he has.

There's a wild thing bleeding out in the sand, and it takes Myles a long second of looking to be able to tell whether it’s man or beast.

It’s a man, probably. A man in dark leather and dark cloth and steel, the sand around him turned from scarlet to rust with how much blood he’s already lost, his dark hair like a tangled web of shadow spilling over his face and across the dune.

 “Myles?” Montross asks, impatient, but something keeps Myles from being able to pull his gaze away from the crumpled figure. Maybe it’s the boneless sprawl of his body, or maybe it’s the way one hand is stretched out, reaching for something Myles can't see. Maybe it’s the face Myles can half-see, fine-boned and handsome, with a scruff of stubble that tries for roguish and falls flat at absentminded.

Maybe it’s the fact that, even to Myles's stunted Force-sense, there's something overwhelmingly strange about the man, absent and shadowed and halfway to gone, even when Myles is looking right at him.

“Keep going,” he tells Montross, waving the squad on. “I’ll catch up.”

Montross doesn’t argue, just tips his head and keeps going, calling the warriors around him onward with a gesture. Myles watches them trudge up the next dune, then turns, picking his way through the deep sand as he approaches the base of the statue. It’s a grand one, even if it’s half-buried, the face cracked away into smooth and featureless stone. There are markings around the base, a wide swath of pedestal that’s deeply carved and inlaid with metal. Not gold or treasure hunters would have ripped it up long ago, Myles thinks critically, but enough to catch the sunlight and burn.

The dying man is sprawled across the inlays, one hand reaching towards the base of the statue, one hand pressed against a wound in his chest. There are scorch marks in his light armor, just a breastplate of interlocking scales, but—the fact that he’s even wearing it is interesting. Most people who aren’t Mandalorians don’t tend to bother.

“Still hanging on?” Myles asks, crouching down over him as blood smears across inlayed stone, though he can see the heartbeat flickering on his HUD. Living doesn’t always mean alive, where wounds like that are concerned.

Through a tangle of black hair, lashes flutter, rise. There's a rasping breath, and dark blue eyes fix on Myles with all the ferocity of a nexu caught in a hunter’s trap, brutal and vicious and terrified.

Man or beast, Myles thinks, amused despite himself. Maybe the line isn't quite as definitive as he’d thought.

“I guess you are,” he says, and pulls his helmet off. Korriban is ferociously hot with the sun up, and it feels like being trapped in a vast mirror that reflects the heat and light back on them, turning the desert into a land of mirages and tricks of the eye all around them. It bleeds a shine of red and gold into the air, something that flickers and burns. The man is cold to the touch when Myles reaches for him, though, skin clammy from blood loss, and he can't fight it when Myles rolls him over onto his back.

There's a lightsaber wound burned into his chest, right through his armor, and the metal is melted and warped and fused to his skin.

Myles cocks his head, some edge of awareness that a Jedi is probably nearby twisting itself through a much sharper sort of assessment. The lightsaber wound isn't bleeding; that’s from what looks like the shrapnel of an exploded blaster, buried in the man’s side where his jacket and breastplate didn’t provide quite as much protection as they should have. Survivable, Myles thinks, calculating times, the man’s size, how much blood he must have lost already. It’s the wound that’s killing him, not the lightsaber burn. Maybe exposure, too; his lips are dry and cracked, and with the heat what it is, he won't survive the trek back to civilization even if his wound miraculously patches itself up.

The Jedi that tried to kill him left him to die slowly. That’s a hell of an act of mercy from a righteous and compassionate monastic order.

A little amused, Myles drags his fingers through tangled hair, shoves it out of the man’s face, and jerks his hand up just before he gets bitten for his troubles. There's a full-body wrench, like the man is trying his level best to move, but he collapses again a moment later with a ragged, desperate sound, fingers scrabbling futilely at the sand.

“What are you, an animal?” Myles asks, raising a brow, and catches the man’s jaw, tipping his head. He’s breathing hard, exhausted and fading, fine spasms shaking him, and Myles cocks his head. “I can save you,” he says, and dark eyes flicker to him, narrow. “But I'm Mandalorian. Once I do, your life belongs to me. No matter what I want to do with it.”

There's a pause, so long that Myles almost thinks the man can't hear him—

A laugh, raspy, wild, that shakes through the man like a spasm. One blood-soaked hand rises, wavering, and Myles almost thinks it’s going to fall bonelessly to the sand again.

Instead, it lands on Myles's breastplate, a smear of crimson against the blue and gold of the metal. The man stares at him through his tangled hair, bloody teeth bared, eyes burning, and rasps out, “Please.”

[lanseax]

in case anyone watching the mandalorian is like ‘why are we watching this stupid story about an imperial scientist and communications officer?’ here’s my theory:

so pretext; we need information on how the first order retakes the galaxy and on how snoke came to be and if they so deign to give a fuck maybe info on how “somehow palpatine survived” SO

we already know the empire had access to freezing people (kenobi), if they found palpatine soon enough after his death they could have frozen him. so now we need to know how they would save him, well when they’re walking through palpatine’s lair in episode 9 we see ugly amalgamations of clones of palpatine so all we need is someone to create cloning since kamino is gone. enter the scientist.

well he said he was only going to take what he needed so now evil communications officer has everything she would need to clone someone with proper donors that match dna. and bada bing bada boom new palpatine and all those failed ones in his lair are just bad donors that dont match. then comes episode 9 and he knows he has a grand child, what better donor than someone of his blood line.

tldr; they’re probably trying to clone palpatine and this is the beginning stages.

[sjsmith56]

The New Neighbour - Part 1, From There to Here - Bucky Barnes One Shots

Summary: A new neighbour takes over the parking stall of a single 30-something librarian while he moves in. Takes place just after FATWS. 1st person POV.

Length: 5.3K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, named female character

Warnings: Bucky Barnes, misunderstanding, cursing, wrecked pizza.

Author notes: the original female character in this one shot will reappear in several parts of this collection. Apologies to those who prefer x readers or Y/N designations. I’m old school and I give my original female characters names and descriptions.

🔹🔹🔹🔹

The pickup truck filled with furniture parked in my parking stall wasn't the first sign that my lousy day was destined to continue into the evening. The day had started well enough. My alarm went off on time, the coffee maker didn't blow up, and I didn't burn the toast. Once I arrived at the Library all hell broke loose when a bathroom on the second floor experienced a burst pipe sending water out towards the book stacks. The water soaked the carpets and the Library manager had to call in a plumber to fix the pipe, then a cleanup team to wet vac most of the second floor while all of us staff that weren't working the circulation desk had to remove the bottom level of books in every stack to keep them away from the moisture. It was tedious work, especially since we couldn't kneel on the wet floor, for obvious reasons.

On the way home I stopped off at my favourite pizza place, ordered a loaded pizza then went to the liquor store a few doors down to get a six pack of beer to go with the pizza. As I got closer to the apartment building I could smell the tantalizing scents of the large pizza and began to think of how it would taste when I arrived home. My plan was to change into sweat pants and a T-shirt then relax on the couch and binge watch the latest season of The Mandalorian. It was all brought to a screeching halt when I saw the pickup truck backed into my parking stall, the one I paid a premium for so that I was close to the door.

I pulled up in front of it and got out of my car, staring at it with my hands on my hips. Two men came out of the door of the apartment building and approached the truck.

"Hey, this is my parking stall," I said to the closest one, a handsome and muscular black man. "Would you mind?"

"Uh, Buck," he said to the other man, a tall muscular man with dark hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. "We're in someone's parking spot."

He looked at me. "Sorry, this is where the manager told me to park," he said. "I have to get my stuff in."

"Well, it's my spot," I insisted. "I pay extra for it so that I don't have far to walk to the door. What unit are you in?"

"302," he said. "I'll go ask him where I'm supposed to park. You can park there until we're finished unloading and then I'll put the truck where it's supposed to be."

"Fine, do that," I snapped, thinking of my pizza getting colder. It also meant he was my next door neighbour. "I'll wait."

Exasperated he looked at the other guy and headed back into the apartment building in search of the building manager. The other man stood there, slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry about this," he said. "Seriously, the manager said we could park here. You don't happen to know where Buck's spot is do you?"

I pointed towards the far end of the parking lot. He winced and looked back at the door. A few minutes later the dark haired man, Buck, returned shaking his head.

"He's not in his suite," he said. "Listen, if you know where I'm supposed to park just park there for now and we'll try to get this done as soon as we can. I can even switch both vehicles once I'm done."

Shaking my head I restarted my car and backed up to the far end of the parking lot, putting my car into the spot marked 302. Grabbing my purse, the six pack and the pizza I closed the car door with my foot. Putting them on my hood I pressed the lock button on my car remote then gingerly picked up the pizza and beer to head to the door. It was closed, the door stop had come loose making it close. This was ridiculous. Balancing the pizza as best I could I tried to isolate the security door key so I could unlock it. Just as I inserted it into the lock the pizza box tilted, began to slide and I tried to grab it to no avail. It fell cover side down into the concrete step.

"Fuck!"

I swore a few more choice words and put the beer down to pick up the pizza box. Lifting the top my heart sank as the entire cheese layer was stuck on the lid. At that moment the two men came out, seeing the ruined pizza.

"I'm so sorry," said the blue eyed man. "I must have kicked the door stop on my way in. Let me make it up to you. We'll be done in 15 or 20 minutes. I'll order a new pizza, switch the truck and your car, and still owe you a favour."

"Don't bother," I replied. "I don't need your pity or any favours."

I entered the building before I said what I was really feeling and got into the elevator. Angry at the day, at the pizza, and especially at BUCK, I stomped down the hallway to my apartment and put everything on the floor to open my door. Just as I opened it the elevator dinged and the doors opened. My new neighbour and his friend came out carrying a big mattress ... king sized. Great, now he knew which apartment I lived in. With a grimace I picked my things up from the floor and backed into my place, slamming the door shut with my foot. Dropping everything on the counter I changed and came back out to the kitchen, peeled a slice of pizza off the inside of the lid, put it on a plate then into the microwave. I opened a beer and took a long drink of it. When the microwave beeped I pulled my pizza out and sprawled out on the couch. After a deep breath I took a bite of the pizza and began to chew. Immediately I spat it out. It tasted like cardboard. Looking closely I could see bits of the lid stuck to the pizza. Swearing again I went back to the kitchen, picked up the pizza box and tossed it into the garbage can. As I sat fuming I heard a timid knock on the door and looked out the security peephole. It was Buck. I opened the door and looked at him with all the disdain I could muster.

"Um, we're almost done and if you give me your car keys I'll move you back into your parking space," he said. "I'll also go pick up a pizza to replace the one I ruined. What's your choice?"

It was while he was looking at his hands that I noticed he was wearing leather gloves, finding it odd that he was wearing them in the middle of summer. He noticed me looking at them and looked briefly up at the ceiling before scratching his head.

"I have a metal hand and arm," he admitted. "It intimidates some people so I spare them by wearing the gloves. I know we got off on the wrong foot down there and I'm so sorry for the misunderstanding. Since we're neighbours please allow me to try and make it up to you."

"Okay, neighbour," I said a little more civilly after considering his words. "My name is June, and I prefer the loaded pizzas at Tony's Pizza, two blocks south on Versailles Avenue."

He took the glove off of his right hand and extended it to me. "Call me Bucky," he said. "It's a nickname."

As I shook his hand I couldn't believe how warm it was. It was also quite large but his handshake was firm without being overwhelming. We stood there for a moment not saying anything then he nodded, turned around and began walking to his apartment.

"You need my car keys," I reminded him and he returned sheepishly, taking them with a self deprecating grin.

Half an hour later there was another knock on the door and I opened it to Bucky standing there with three boxes of pizza. He gave me the top box and my keys then nodded and began to walk back to his apartment. Suddenly he turned around and looked back at me.

"If you don't want to eat alone you're welcome to join me and my friend, Sam," he said. "I got pizza for us as well. We're not ...."

He let the sentence hang in the air then nodded his head again and headed back to his door. Despite my misgivings there was something sweet about how he asked and I made an impulsive decision.

"Okay," I said. "I'll join you. Just let me grab my beer and door key."

A moment later I was walking into his apartment as he opened the door for me, waiting for me to enter ahead of him. His friend Sam, was unpacking a box of books and smiled at me as I came in. He stepped forward right away, extending his hand.

"Hi, I'm Sam," he said, waiting for me to answer.

"June," I replied, then shook his hand.

He grabbed a couple of boxes off of an armchair and offered it to me then pulled a large box in front of it to act as a table. At first I thought they were a couple but as I watched them both get plates, serviettes and beers I realized they were more likely friends that worked together. It was as if they each knew what the other was doing making their dynamic more of a partnership. They both sat on the couch, also using boxes as tables and opened their pizza boxes in front of them. Both of them took several big bites before drinking some of their beer. Bucky looked at his slice in appreciation.

"That takes me back," he said to Sam. "Just like they used to make in Brooklyn when I was young. I guess Tony's Pizza becomes my go to place."

"You're from Brooklyn?" I asked, trying to be polite.

"I was born in Indiana but my parents moved to Brooklyn in the 1920s after my Dad left the military and got a job in the shipyards. I grew up there."

"Wait, did you say 1920s?" I asked, wondering what this guy's issue was.

Sam began to smile. "She doesn't recognize you," he said to Bucky then he looked at me. "You don't recognize him?"

"Should I?" I was starting to get irritated again. "Who is he supposed to be?"

"Bucky Barnes," said Sam, to my blank look. "James Buchanan Barnes? Last of the Howling Commandos? The Winter Soldier? Partner to two Captain Americas?"

"Co-worker," said Bucky, "not partner. You and I are co-workers."

"Wait, you're Captain America?" I asked, staring intently at Sam. Then it hit me and I looked at both men as if seeing them for the first time. "Holy fuck. You are ... and you're ...."

Sam started to laugh. I should have been offended but I wasn't. I was eating pizza with Captain America and Bucky Barnes. Grabbing my beer I drank it and kept looking at them, still not quite believing it. How did I not recognize them? Bucky finished his first slice of pizza and looked critically at me.

"There aren't many girls your age named June," he stated.

"First of all, I'm not a girl." I bristled at the condescension. "I was named after my great grandmother. Perhaps you dated her. June Gladys Norton. She lived in the Bronx."

Sam snorted then tried to look innocent. "Don't mind him. He's still stuck in the 40s."

Bucky turned red but took a bite of his second piece. "All I meant was it's an uncommon name now. I liked it in the 1940s and I like it now. The fact you kept it means you don't go with the flow. You seem very confident."

"Well, thank you," I replied, mollified by the compliment. "I was born in June and my mother thought it was apt to honour my great grandmother at the same time. What's the Bucky for?"

"My middle name, Buchanan," he replied, curtly. "Why do you pay extra for the parking spot next to the door?"

I froze as it was a very personal matter, one that only the building manager, library manager, and a few of my closest friends knew, and one that I really didn't want to share with two strangers. Finishing my bite I put my slice of pizza back in the box and stood up.

"I need to go home. Nothing personal, I just can't ...."

Quickly I got out of there and went back to my apartment, as the panic began to rise up into my throat. It felt like I was choking and I suddenly flashed back to two years previously when I was mugged in the parking lot as I walked from the other end where I parked my car. The raspy voice telling me to give him my purse and car keys, then the feel of his hand on my throat as he decided I wasn't acting fast enough. That was followed by the fear when he took my purse and my car leaving me without the means to get into the building because they were in the purse.

Desperately I concentrated on my breathing, slowly in and slowly out. Gradually my heartbeat returned to normal and I felt calmer but now I had a piercing headache. Running a bath I stripped down and got in, hoping the warmth would help my blood vessels dilate and relieve the pain I was feeling in my head. The pain slowly eased and after drying off I got my pyjamas on and climbed into bed, hoping to sleep off any of the after effects.

It must have worked because I woke up a little earlier than normal the next morning. Stepping into the kitchen I started some coffee, put some bread in the toaster and opened the door to see if the newspaper had been dropped off yet. As I picked mine up I heard Bucky's door open. He stepped out and looked over at me with a worried look.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "I'm sorry if what I asked you brought out a panic attack. I've had a few and they're not fun to deal with."

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm a little embarrassed by it."

"I'm always available to talk," he said. "I've been in therapy and still talk to my therapist every once in a while when I get overwhelmed. You shouldn't be embarrassed or ashamed as it's obviously something that still affects you." He looked like he wanted to say more but changed his mind. With a quick nod he retreated back into his apartment. Looking at the paper in my hand I stepped back in. Grabbing my apartment keys I locked the door and went to Bucky's door, lightly knocking. He opened it almost immediately and ushered me in, gesturing to the kitchen table. He offered me a coffee and I took it gratefully.

"Where's Sam?" I asked.

"He's out for a run," said Bucky. "I'm faster than he is so I finished sooner."

"Two years ago, my parking stall was beside yours," I began. "I work at the Library and I was on until 9 o'clock. I met a friend for drinks after work and came home about 11 pm. As I walked across the parking lot towards the door a man accosted me and demanded my purse and car keys. He grabbed my neck when I didn't give them to him immediately. I have PTSD from it and walking across the parking lot triggers it, not so much in the day but definitely at night. Having the spot nearest the door means it only takes me a few seconds to get in. I get my keys ready as soon as I turn off my car and get inside where it's safe."

"I'm sorry," said Bucky. "That must have been so traumatic for you. Are you able to go out at night?"

"Not socially," I replied. "It's still hard when I'm assigned an evening shift but my manager is understanding so I only have to work one night every two weeks. I have to pay a premium to park there because the person who lives in the apartment it's assigned to demanded it. It's worth it to me. I'm sorry I flew off the handle at you. The manager is new and he might not be aware of the agreement. I assumed the old manager filled him in."

"Don't apologize," said Bucky. "Listen, I do go on missions but I have a lot of downtime. If you want I can wait for you if you ever want to go out with your friends. Just text me and I'll be waiting to make sure you get in okay. No one will mess with you if I'm there."

"That's nice of you, I'll keep it in mind," I replied, taking a sip of my coffee. I looked around and noticed nearly everything was put away. "You're already organized."

"I don't have a lot, books mostly," he said. "You'll probably see me at the Library. It's one of my favourite places."

"Why did you move to New Orleans?" I asked. "If it doesn't trigger you to tell me, I mean."

He smiled and for a moment I saw something wonderful flicker over his face, an extremely handsome one.

"I was living in Brooklyn, trying to fit in but I felt out of place," he said. "No one knew me and it's hard telling someone you're 106 calendar years old. Everything was different ... music, movies, television. I'm still not sure of half of what's on it. Women are different. I don't quite get pronouns. Don't get me wrong I'm not phobic about gays or people who are transitioning. It's their life, right? But it's ...."

"Overwhelming?"

"Yeah, that's pretty accurate," he said. "I just wanted the life I had before I went to war but it doesn't exist anymore. I lived with Sam for the past year; slept on his couch really but decided it was time for me to get back out on my own."

"Do you date?" I asked, hoping that he didn't.

"I tried but I was too self conscious and although when I was 21 or 22 would probably have loved to have a girl ... woman come on to me in a big way, it's off putting to me now," he said. "I guess I'm still old fashioned enough to want to be the man, do you know what I mean? I want to bring her flowers, open the doors for her, pull out her chair, get to know her first before we take it further. I'm an old man in a younger man's body."

He looked down at his coffee before drinking it and I could feel his confusion and hesitancy over how to negotiate the dating scene. Hell, I hadn't had an evening date since the attack and before that had only been out a handful of times in the previous year. I always put it down to being on the slightly plump side. I was still curvy but I definitely wasn't a waif. Several of my less than successful dates also said I wasn't deferential enough and was too opinionated for how I looked. They didn't say it in quite so nice words which often had me in tears once I got home. Briefly I looked up from my coffee and saw Bucky watching me. He smiled and looked away.

"If you ever want to hang out or go out for coffee we could always do it together," I offered. "I don't have a big social life. Hardly anything since the incident."

"A pretty girl ... sorry, bad habit, woman like you?" he shook his head. "Guys have to be crazy not to be lined up to take you out."

"Well, I'm not exactly considered desirable," I began and he interrupted.

"Like I said, guys have to be crazy. You're pretty, have a nice figure, and you're easy to talk to. You're definitely a strong woman. I would have asked you out in the 40s."

The security door buzzed at that moment and Bucky left the table to answer it. It was Sam, and Bucky buzzed him in then opened his apartment door. Sam came in moments later, all sweaty. His eyes lit up when he saw me and I gathered he had probably encouraged Bucky to talk to me.

"Nice to see you, June," he gasped slightly. "I don't know why I go running with this guy. He always leaves me in the dust then looks like he's just been out for a leisurely stroll after." He looked at Bucky. "We going back for the rest of your stuff this morning?"

"I think I'll leave the weapons in storage," he replied. "I don't like having them around the apartment. Makes people nervous. I wouldn't mind getting my motorcycle." He looked at me reassuringly. "I'm not a gun nut although I own a lot of them and knives as well. They're tools of my trade, Avenger tools. I keep them in the storage locker and grab what I need when we're called for a mission."

"Fair enough," said Sam. "I'll grab a shower now and a coffee after. You making me breakfast?"

Bucky grinned. "If June stays I can be talked into it."

Both men turned their attention to me. "Sure, maybe I should get changed out of my pyjamas first."

A blush formed on Bucky's face. "I didn't want to say anything but I'm guessing they're your comfort clothes."

"Something like that," I replied. "I won't be long."

It surprised me that Bucky got to the door first and opened it for me. He really did want to be the gentleman. It was touching that there was still gallantry in a man as it had been something lacking in the men I had dated. As I walked past him into the hallway I could smell his cologne. There was a touch of citrus in it but also some lavender and cedar. It was light and definitely suited him. As I turned to acknowledge him I noticed he was looking at my lips and I was suddenly self conscious. He sensed it and backed away.

"See you in a few minutes," he said softly.

With a nod I returned to my apartment and quickly washed my face and moisturized. I slid on my skinny jeans, then put a tunic on that came down to my hips. It had a v-neck and showed a touch of my cleavage. Then I put my hair in a low ponytail and put on a couple of drop earrings, turquoise ones that were one of my favourites. I only wore makeup for work and going out but I did put some lipstick on, a berry colour. When I returned to the apartment Sam opened the door and took in what I was wearing.

"Looking good, girl," he drawled. "Buck will like this."

Blushing I walked past him to see the table was all set for three. Bucky was at the stove and had already made pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. He worked fast to finish it off and put everything out at the table. After pouring everyone a fresh cup of coffee he sat down and gestured for me to serve myself. Sam served himself then Bucky took the rest. There was a lot of food on his plate.

"I need a lot of calories to function properly," he explained. "If you want more I'm happy to make it for you."

"I'm good, this is more than enough for me," I assured him.

Both men ate quickly and were finished well before I was even halfway done. Neither seemed bothered that I was still working my way through it. When Bucky asked if it was okay if he started cleaning up I gave him my blessing. He finished cleaning the pans just as I finished my last bite of toast. Knowing they had to get going I prepared to leave then I noticed Sam nodding in my direction. Bucky made a subtle face at him then cleared his throat.

"June, if you're not busy you're welcome to come with us," said Bucky. "It's a storage facility out near the air base. That's usually where we leave from for a mission. It's a nice drive."

If two muscular men had asked me that just a few days before I would have wondered what their game was. Were they trying to get me alone and isolated for whatever nefarious purposes they had in mind? Were they just being polite? Regardless I didn't get that feeling from either of them. In fact, it seemed like they genuinely wanted my company. Maybe Sam was being polite and from that gesture he made to Bucky it seemed like he was trying to encourage him to be more sociable with me. In fact, once he asked me Bucky looked away as if he didn't want to influence me one way or another.

"Is there room?"

"Sure, that front bench has enough room for three," replied Sam. "Come out for the drive. It will give you and Buck a chance to get better acquainted ... as neighbours."

"Sure, I'll just get my purse," I replied, surprised at myself.

Both men waited for me and when Sam took the wheel I realized the truck was his. On the drive out to the storage locker Bucky sat with his left arm resting behind my head on top of the truck seat. Our legs were touching and I noticed how muscular his legs were even through the denim of his jeans. I looked up to see him looking at me and he gave a shy grin before looking out the window. Sam had his phone hooked up to the radio, playing new R&B and old Motown. Bucky seemed to prefer the older stuff based on the tapping of his fingers behind my head.

"What do you normally listen to for music?" I asked him before speculating that he probably preferred 1940s music.

"Old stuff, from the war years, mostly, but I like a lot of Motown and some of the crooners from now like Tony Bennett, Michael Bublé, Diana Krall, people like that. You?"

"I like the singers you just named," I replied. "A lot of things really. My parents played a lot of music as we grew up."

Sam swerved to avoid hitting a garbage bag on the road and I was thrown into Bucky's side. His left arm came down to steady me and I had to admit I liked how it felt to have his arm around me. His face went pink and he put his arm back on the top of the seat then looked over my head to glare at Sam before looking out the front. We pulled up to the storage area and Bucky reminded Sam of the keypad code. The gate slid open and Sam drove to a row of storage doors, stopping midway. Fishing a key out of his pocket Bucky unlocked the lock and slid the door up. Under a tarpaulin was what I assume was his motorbike and I gasped when I saw it; a Harley Davidson FLSTF Fat Boy.

"This is the same motorcycle used in Terminator 2," I said, looking back at Bucky. "You've seen that movie, haven't you?"

"He has," laughed Sam. "It's kind of his nickname when I want to annoy him."

"It was in pieces at an estate sale," said Bucky, with a bit of edge to his voice. "I knew how to put it back together and the owner's widow gave me a deal to get it out of their garage."

"Well, it's a classic and I'm impressed you know how to maintain it," I said, excitedly. "Will you give me a ride some time?"

Sam looked away smirking and I realized what I had said. This time I turned red and left the storage locker to get my dignity back. Bucky wheeled it out while Sam pulled a couple of wide boards out of the back of the truck. Together they got it up onto the truck bed and strapped it in tight. Bucky went back in the storage locker while I sat on the tailgate. He brought several boxes out, putting them on the tailgate next to me, and opened them, saying he couldn't see well inside the locker. Inside were old pictures of Bucky and what I assumed were the Howling Commandos. He smiled briefly as he took them out then he showed me one of him during the war. His face was so young but the look on it was stern.

"That was shortly before I fell off the train," he said quietly. "We had an army photographer to document our missions and he took this picture of me after I looked at the zip line we needed to use to hit the train as it went by. I wasn't a big fan of heights."

"You zip lined onto a moving train?" I questioned. He nodded. "How come I never knew this about you?"

"Most of it was classified during the war," said Sam, looking over Bucky's shoulder. "Then when he was identified as the Winter Soldier a lot of the heroic stuff he did during the war got buried in the Army archives. Steve and I filed a Freedom of Information request for these to help Bucky's case once he broke away. They were finally approved during the Blip so Steve hung on to them for old time's sake."

"I'm going to leave them here," he said.

I put my hand on his arm. "Don't, I would like to see them and hear you explain about them."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because people would be interested. There's so much about you that isn't known and maybe it should be." He still didn't look convinced. "Okay, so maybe because I'm interested in knowing more about you. Yesterday I thought you were a jerk and today I think you have a story I would like to hear."

He smiled again and that glimpse of the handsome man appeared. "I will under one condition," he said, looking me in the eye. "You go out with me, to dinner, on a date."

"You want to go out with me on a date?"

I couldn't believe what he was saying. Me, the book worm who always seemed to be a last resort for the guys I had dated.

"I'm asking here," he said, his Brooklyn accent coming out strong. "Will you go to dinner with me?"

Sam said nothing but had a small satisfied smile on his face. I looked at him and he just raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"Alright," I replied. "Dinner ... when?"

"Tomorrow night?" he asked. "Wear a dress." There was a pause. "Please. I like to see an attractive woman in a dress. We'll take an Uber."

Smiling, I nodded my head in agreement and Bucky returned the picture to the box, closing it up and putting it in the truck bed. He and Sam brought several other boxes out, securing them around the motorcycle. On the trip back our legs touched again. His arm was behind my head, extended along the top of the seat and he had a small satisfied smile for the entire trip back into town. So did I.

Part 2 >>

Series Master list

[lewmagoo]

Leah, I saw you were thinking about writing about a bounty hunter au. this wouldn't have to do with the mandalorian would it? bc I have thoughts!

it is partially inspired by my binge watch of the mandalorian, yes lol. but that’s as far as the inspo goes, it’ll take place in the old west and rhett is a grumpy ole bounty hunter who captures wanted reader and is determined to bring them in and get his reward. so what if he develops feelings for them along the way? 🤫

[jolalibrary]

I just needed to scream this at someone (lovingly of course) but I got sucked into the Pedro Pascal vortex after the last of us. (I know suuupper late on my part) but I’ve fallen in love with so many of his characters it’s hard to keep up at this point but i couldn’t get into the Din stories and didn’t understand the obsession/ love for the man.

But I just started watching the Mandalorian last night and I GET IT NOW! Like I’m only four or so episodes in and I’m like ‘why did I wait so long’. But I SOOOOOO GET IT! And I’m so excited about reading stories about Din now and like ughhhh I just don’t know if I have the emotional availability to get attached even more to Pedro and his amazing characters but it’s whatever at this point. I’m already down the rabbit hole now what’s a little more 😂

okay, anon, sit down on this comfy bean bag with me. I FELT THE EXACT SAME. a long time ago, I was a proper Star Wars girly and the last trilogy burnt me (Poe, ily though) and I swore I wouldn’t watch Mando because of it.

flash forward to like this year, I watched it, practically binged the first two seasons AND NOW IM LIKE MAKING SPACE IN MY HEART FOR HIM. so, do not fear, you’re not alone. pls, fall down the rabbit hole, there are snacks and more bean bags and cuddly grogu teddies hahahah

but also this is always a safe place for you 🩷✨

ily

but also like, I would be at mando’s mercy and he doesn’t even need to ask 😂😂

[ragnarssons]

listen- i do think it’s more interesting if din has to question his faith, that he does it as someone who is in it, and not as an apostate. because the story (i mean, the lore within the universe) will always remember him as an apostate and not someone who “broke” the culty-code thingy. so, so far i’m fine with how it’s going, and actually i’m fine with din still embracing the children of the watch, because why would he question his faith? what did they do that he’d personally condemn so far? nothing. they’re his family, he’s always grown up with them, trusting them blindly and that’s a long process to have an outsider’s eye of what they are, especially since din has not (yet) been exposed to a lot of other mandalorians (yknow... outside of bo?) i don’t see the storyline as a waste so far *shrugs* we’ll have to see, it’s clearly just the beginning with this whole storyline soooo? people need to stop expecting everything to happen all at once, and they stop being so impatient with stuff like y’all have grown too used to the netflix binge-watch formula

[yletylyf]

Rules: list eight TV shows for your followers to get to know you better!

Thank you for the tag @jhalya <3

Tagging @cindle-writes, @atomic-space-babe, @heavy-metal-dick, @ashesandhackles, @givereadersahug, @phantomato

I think I’ll list the shows I’ve watched recently, no clue how I would tackle an all-time favorite list.

1. Shadow and Bone

I never got around to watching season 1 before season 2 came out, so I’ve been binging all the episodes over the past week or so. I did not particularly like reading these books, and I do not particularly like the show. It’s a good production - it’s pretty and I like the actors, who do a great job.

My problem with this verse is that I loathe the main character, books and show alike. I am only in this fandom because I like villains and my friends keep trying to convince me the Darkling is the best villain. And he is a great villain! I’m desperate, however, for content about him that is neither canon nor his popular fandom ship. I’m reading some promising Nikolai/Darkling fics, and slowly trying to finish season 2 of the show.

2. The Mandalorian

I am an extremely casual, not-really-a-fan SW fan. I have like, seen all the movies and the live-action TV shows, and even some of the really bad cartoon, but find most of the content entirely forgettable. So, here I am, dutifully watching the latest in my very casual way. The negative is that I don’t care about the plot of this show (is there a plot in this season?) Positive points in season 3: Elia Kane was smoking hot and also a villain. Wooow! Plus, Bo-Katan is growing on me. Oh yeah, and baby Yoda is the best SW character.

3. House of the Dragon

I thought I would hate this show because I really, really hated Game of Thrones. And there was plenty I did hate about HotD - fuck every single one of those graphic childbirth/dying in childbirth/miscarriage scenes, why do the writers have such a hard-on for women suffering in ways unique to the female anatomy? Fuck off and die. 

I like dragons! I like Rhae and Ali (preferably shipped together)! I loooove Daemon. The settings are so pretty and the action is great and the unhinged villainy and incest is glorious. I kind of hate every single one of the younger characters though and because of it, haven’t really been able to get into the fandom or most ship fic.

4. Rings of Power

LOVE LOVE LOVE. Oh my god! It awoke my teenage love for LotR (I used to be obsessed) and increased it a hundred fold. A delightful and complicated villain-centric story with a smoking hot actor and all the chemistry with the other leads, in a beloved childhood canon? Holy shit, yes please.

5. Wheel of Time

I mean... I watched it. I think these books are terribly written and can’t stand them, but fine, I’ll watch a TV show about a fantasy canon. Loved the big, central role given to Moraine and loved the Moraine/Siuan. The settings and costumes are pretty. I don’t care about this canon at all. I have tried reading fic as encouragement and just cannot muster any caring about these characters.

6. Ted Lasso

Love it! Haven’t started watching season 3 yet, but I loved seasons 1 and 2. I didn’t expect to like it? Happy optimism, relentlessly feel-good, upbeat characters in a modern setting? Not really my thing. (I mean, does it sound like any other show I’ve listed here?) But it was so charming! The writing so funny and the actors so good. Keeley/Rebecca are a fantastic f/f ship and Ted/Trent are a fantastic m/m ship in fandom. I’m very into it.

7. The Witcher

Hmm. I like dark characters and themes but I don’t like jump-scare, horror/tension stuff. So the Witcher was sort of hard for me to watch. I think it’s better on a re-watch when I know what’s coming. Geralt is gorgeous eye candy for sure. The women are annoying (I don’t like children characters much and I hate plots that are like “all I want is a baby” for women, hate hate hate them, please die, Yennifer’s entire storyline). I love the fun monster-hunt plots and Jaskier!

8. Obi-Wan Kenobi

I wish I liked this. I wish I liked Anakin in particular. I ought to; he fits the character archetypes I love most. His relationship with Obi-Wan should be fascinating???? But I don’t care. I honestly can’t remember what happened in this show.

[rinayeas]

Im still going on my star wars newbie binge ft my boyfriend who is a lifelong star wars fan and we just finished watching the first 2 seasons of the mandalorian and like..... its really good but why does everything have to be serialized....

I enjoyed the show 100 times more when it was just mando and lil yoda (ik his name is grogu i just think its funny) going on episodic space lone ranger adventures and helping random ppl bc mando may be a bounty hunter but he is a Noble Man.

Why does moff gideon exist. He is just space gustavo from breaking bad except gustavo was cool and smart. Moff gideon just knows everything about everyone bc he's played by gustavo from breaking bad. I dont give a shit that the empire is rebuilding itself as... the empire.... if the remnants of the empire were rebranding as a proto-first order or smth like that it would b so much cooler and interesting but. Star war. Storm trooper or something.

Anyways i love pedro pascal hermano latinoamericano. Also din and luke only have like 15 seconds of interaction but honestly?? I see the appeal.

[x-authorship-x]

Hi Torship 💛 you have ficd for Tokoyami (mha) and Shisui, assuming they're your series favs... What other favs do you have? I don't know if you love any character like you love shisui tho? ;D hard to imagine

Have a good day/night!

Hey, Anon!

I have a lot of series that I like, fandoms that I browse over like popping your head in a gallery to admire the view and not read the labels, but only a few characters I am pretty hardcore for...!

Shisui

We been knew. I don't really know how I found myself quietly determined to dominate his character tag but life works in mysterious ways. He was a possible love interest for my SIOC back in the day and then... We spiralled, massively. I liked his character so much that I turned to my Beta one day and said 'why isn't there a Shisui time travel fic, one thats simple but impactful?' and she shrugged and told me why I didn't try my hand at it myself, and that's how In The Eye of the Beholder started. The first of...many. I think we're at around 20 Shisui-centric fics posted? And endless ideas 🤡 The OG blorbo

Obi (Akagami no Shirayuki/AnS)

Oh my god Obi. You guys don't realise everything I have bottled up inside of me, but Obi gets me almost at the same level as Shisui, I just never posted much. The AnS fandom is smaller and idk in a weird way I'd feel more out of place there because, with Naruto fics, you're kinda sheltered by the crowd? We all deal with self consciousness, I guess. Obi unlocks something in me. Like with Shisui, I can ship him with almost anyone because I'm ace and romance is nice to read but not the end of the world, you know? It's always going to be a platonic relationship that rules my fics, I can't help it. But Obi? His love for Shirayuki just turns me into this puddle of emotionally complicated goo 😵

For Bnha....

You're not wrong that there's a reason that Tokoyami ended up as my first character-centric foray into this fandom, but it's not at all the same as the previous two. I have a lot of loves in BnHa. Ochako, Momo, Kirishima, Todoroki, Dabi, Hawks, Mirko, Best Jeanist, Ingenium (Tensei), and I have a protective streak a mile wide for Tamaki (I have a lot of thoughts, on...all of it tbh) but I'm very happy to rotate across basically the whole cast from BnHA because a good fic is a damn good fic! And the artists are also extremely talented~

Narutoverse

I want to swing by Narutoverse again, just to reiterate that I may be welded to Shisui but I do love a massive number of characters, mainly the idea/potential of them than canon reality (as in most cases, I'm not a "love letter to canon" author) but it's a love all the same. Tobirama, Gai, Lee, Tsunade, Kakashi (squad 2 tbh, i picked my favs for that group), and I've grown so much fonder of other characters that I never paid much mind to (mainly Uchiha or Akatsuki etc) as just a reader!

Other fandoms

I'm... I'm a binge reader without much in the way of pickiness for a lot of fandoms. Les Mis, MCU, HP, LotR/Hobbit (I'm not even loyal to Aragorn/Arwen, this is how flexible I am in the face of good fandom content).

I have a huge preference for BAMF Din, I had to stop watching season three of the mandalorian because it was frustrating me so much lol

My favorite PJO character by a long long shot is Percy

I get annoyed when I remember that they didn't make the RDJ Sherlock Holmes movies a polytriad

I'm Merlin trash in the year 2023

I'm too scared to start One Piece 🥴

If I had the time, memory space, and energy to swallow Star Wars lore, I would write a huge fic where Finn is the protagonist. No hate to any character but I want what I want

I think I'm running out of fandoms and, therefore, character fixations 😂 you're right tho, Anon, that I don't exactly have a designated 'Shisui' level of love in each fandom!

Thank you! Have a good day/night too✨

[gudhoomanbean]

Stowaway Chapter 1:

Word count: 2025

Warnings: canon related violence, death.

A/N: HIII GUYS. So, to be completely honest, I've just binged Rough Day and it was the most amazing fanfic ever. Something about Din just gets my stomach in a twist, and so I was super inspired to get all my daydreaming and lusting down on paper. It's probably not going to be as smutty, but it will be full of feels, laughs, and fluff, cos I'm fluffy :> Honestly just want to explore what getting to know Din would be like, in my own way. Lots of adventure to follow, but not to worry my lusty friends! There will, be smut XD. Just not yet.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Cold. The first thing you notice when you open your eyes is just how cold it's gotten. The second thing you notice is that you feel lightheaded and your vision is blurry.

"Concussion... Great." You say out loud to the haze in front of your eyes.

Slowly you start to get your bearings as you try to blink away the greyness. Except you soon realise it's not your eyes, this dense smoke is coming from blown pipes and burning chemicals. You grab the top of the table and pull yourself up, groaning as your head pounds from the movement.

An attack. You remember that your prisoner transport was attacked. Likely another faction looking to save one of their own. You feel yourself get angry at them, the lives they stole today, without remorse.

You look around your lab and sigh deeply. Everything has been destroyed by blaster fire. All your equipment, all your research. You take a quick look around to see if there are any medical supplies left to patch yourself up with. You find an intact syringe of bacta and thank your little stars.

After patching yourself up, you start to move around the abandoned ship. You step over broken bodies, the lights flashing erratically and the pipes hissing out oxygen. You shiver, the life support must be down. You wonder if there is anyone left alive. You got knocked out from some sort of explosive and missed all of the action. But you feel glad you did. You don't think you'd still be walking around if you hadn't.

You reach the control room and your heart plummets. It's a mess. And not the kind you know how to clean up. Everything is flashing red, and the monitors tell you the engines and life support are down. You have a huge hull breach you're assuming the attackers used to get out, and your fuel has leaked into space. This ship... Is stranded. That means you're stranded.

You're about to sink to the floor in despair when you hear clomp clomp clomp behind you, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. You quickly duck into the nearest hiding space (a tiny service hatch) and hold your breath, terrified that its one of the murderers looking for witnesses.

You peek through the tiny gap you left, scared of being caught, but needing to know who it is anyways. If you can get a description, maybe you can take it to the New Republic and they can catch these assholes. If.. you can get there.

The footsteps grow louder, and you stay very very still. You see a flash of bright silver, and the source stops in front of the controls. You hear a few beeps and the sounds of buttons being pressed, and one of the monitors comes to life with camera footage. You watch, having a better angle to see the monitor than the person, and you're horrified. They massacred everyone.

You hear a sigh, and the sound of a deep modulated voice fills the room

"Well kid, don't think there's anyone left alive. Let's get some supplies and get going."

Kid? You adjust as much as you can without making a noise, but all you can see is a round device floating alongside a large suit of armour. Is that beskar? You try to look upwards to see the face of the stranger, but all you see is a helmet. A very familiar looking helmet.

A Mandalorian? Traveling with a kid. You'd heard rumours out here in the Outer Rim, officers coming in and talking about the chaos a Mandalorian leaves in his wake. He was always traveling with a kid. Could this be him?

You can't be sure, but what you do know is that he isn't an intruder. He's not here to kill you. And, he's your ticket off this dead ship. You watch him turn around and leave the room, and you only crawl out of the hatch when you can no longer hear his footsteps. He has to have a ship.

You run over to the console and see if it can show you anything about a ship being docked. The display is cracked and flickery, but you just manage to make out where his ship is. Now you have a direction.

As quietly and quickly as you can, you make your way to where his ship has docked with this one. You keep an eye and ear out for any sounds of him and his companion as you jump over bodies and sidestep wiring, trying to make it there before they do. Please please please get there before they do.

You can't get stuck here.

You make it to where he docked his ship, and look up. The hatch is still open. You hope this means they haven't gotten back yet, and not that they've just climbed in. Giving your surroundings a quick glance, you jump onto the ladder and scramble up into his ship.

Peeking your head inside, you take it all in. It's not spacious, but it isn't small either. It's narrow, but long. To your right, you assume is the back of the ship, and the ramp for loading and offloading large objects. It's spacious enough to fit 3 Blurrgs comfortably, but it's mostly empty, apart from a few containers. In front of you, you see a mobile Carbonite freezing system, and your heart skips a few beats. You don't want to end up in there...

To your left is what you assume goes towards the front of the ship. You see a... urinal fresher type device (so old and outdated you hope it's not what you think it is), a storage compartment and a ladder leading upwards. No signs of the Mandalorian though. You continue to climb up until you're completely inside the ship.

Looking around, you don't see anywhere you can easily hide, so the stairs are your next best option. You head over and climb them, coming up into a small room with doors on either side. You look left again, and opening the door you see the cockpit. No. Definitely not there. You try right this time, and upon opening the door you have to bite back a gasp.

Three blocks of Carbonite stand in front of you, the faces of its captives frozen in time. You shudder, wondering what these poor souls did to deserve this. It also reminds you of another piece of information on this Mandalorian.... He's a bounty hunter. Dangerous and unbeatable. You shudder, wondering why it had to be his ship.

You ease your way past the blocks and open the next door. You're suddenly blasted with heat and squint your eyes, surprised. A reactor. You stand there for a moment, contemplating your knowledge of the ship and what you think would be the best place to hide. You look around the room, and your eyes light up when you see another panel. You open it up and there is a tiny little compartment, just big enough for you to squeeze into.

You climb in and settle in next to a camtono and a decapitated, bug-eyed droid.

"Hey, how's it going. Mind if I share with you for a little while?" You ask the droid, knowing you won't get an answer, but amusing yourself anyways.

You've just closed the door to the compartment when you hear footsteps climbing up the ladder outside, and your breathing starts to pick up along with your heart rate, hoping against hope he hasn't noticed or heard anything. You hold your breath as you hear the doors to the cockpit open, and don't release it until you feel the ship disengage from your transport and pull off into space.

You smile to yourself. Maybe you'll make it to civilization without any hiccups. Maybe you won't have to deal with the scary Mandalorian and have to explain to him exactly why you're on his ship. You rest your head against the cool metal wall, and close your eyes. Your head feels light and heavy, exhaustion is creeping in, taking the place of adrenaline. But you know sleep is last thing you should do when you have a concussion. You might not wake up.

So you just sit there, listening to the humming of the engines and the nothingness of hyperspace, wondering when the ship will reach its destination, and how long you'll be able to hide away like this.

You don't even make it half a day.

You start awake when you hear the doors being opened to the backlog room, and curse yourself for falling asleep. You listen, your heart beating erratically, as the footsteps outside draw near. You hear a grunt and a heavy click, and assume that another block of Carbonite has been added to the collection. You sit very still, waiting to hear footsteps receding.

You're still listening intently when the door in front of you is suddenly ripped open. You blink into the sudden brightness and don't have a chance to react before the Mandalorian grabs your arm and rips you out of the compartment, pushing you up against the wall with his arm under your throat, and blaster pointed straight at you.

"How did you get in here?" He asks, voice deadly.

"How did you find me?" You ask him, still dazed from the speed and catching up with the events.

"Heat. Now answer me." He bites back.

You look up at him, at the beskar helmet glinting into the light, reflecting everything around it, including your own disheveled, terrified expression. You assume that means the helmet has heat sensor technology. Dank farrik. You can't see anything behind the helmet, and you only have his voice to go off of. It's warning you, that you are in so much danger. The alarm bells in your head are going crazy, and a part of you regrets ever climbing on this ship. You may have just put yourself in more danger.

"I-I saw you in the control room and uh, went to find your ship. You weren't there and the uh the hatch was open and I climbed in and and hid away." You whisper, hoping it's enough.

"Why?" He grunts. You look at him, and notice his grip hasn't faltered once, he hasn't moved a millimetre. You try to gulp, but the pressure on your throat makes it difficult.

"The transport was.. was dead in the water. I needed a way off. I would have died there." You mutter, looking down when you feel your eyes burn.

He just stands there looking at you, keeping you in the same position. You squirm uncomfortably, wondering if he's going to kill you, or throw you in carbonite.

"Please, please just let me stay until we reach the next planet. I promise I mean no harm. I'm just trying to survive, and to get back home. Just don't put me in carbonite, please. Please, I can be useful. I'm a doctor." You babble, trying to save your own hide. He loosens his grip when you mention that you're a doctor, and he steps away slightly, but still makes sure you stay pinned.

"Come." He says brusquely, and without another word he grabs your upper arm and leads you out the door and across into the cockpit. He forces you into a chair, and then binds your wrists in front of you. You frown, but you suppose it's better than Carbonite. You look up to his captain's chair, and see two big black eyes staring at you, with big green floppy ears on either side of an old, but adorable face. This must be the kid.

"Stay put." He commands you, without giving you another glance and moving towards his seat. You lean to the side to try and get a glimpse of the planet he's put into the co-ordinates. Nevarro. You groan internally. You're at least three days away from Nevarro. Slumping into your chair you try to be grateful that you're still alive, while also thinking to yourself that it's going to be a loooong three days.