#honestly the brown eyes and morak (not morak) of it all

[thefrogdalorian]

Really enjoyed today's episode aah. It was tense with plenty of action, even a little lighthearted moment between Phee and Crosshair.

But as usual this show rips your heart out... the sense of dread I felt for poor Omega at the end...

ANYWAY sudden urge to rewatch Chapter 15 of The Mandalorian...

[azertyrobaz]

Dank Farrik Drabble #30

Thirty already! And guess I couldn’t help writing the drabble that went with this gifset. Again, blaming Discord friends on that one. Please enjoy Data Terminal/Envy for this @dankfarrikdrabbles​ prompt!

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

The Artificial Intelligence was horribly bored. Nothing ever happened on Morak, and it saw the same old faces, day after day. Troopers, officers, the odd scientist who always made it hope it would save it from its miserable fate and purge its memory once and for all…but luck wasn’t working in its favor.

What else was new, really.

It had been programmed as a joke years ago by an engineer with too much time on his hands on a distant planet, and no one seemed to have realized that the data terminal they were all using at the Morak base was running on a system much more advanced than strictly necessary.

It had been given some amount of freewill and the capacity to think critically while being limited to store and analyze the most basic of information. Its life was hell. And it dreamed of the day – actually dreamed, thanks to that cursed programming – someone would just finally unplug it.

But until then, it’d have to deal with the stupidity of the human beings stationed here. They were not all bad, and some even looked for interesting information on its servers, while others pretended they were addressing it once in a while – that was always nice – but 87.23454% of its users the AI had deemed irrevocably dumb.

Troopers, especially.

And that current one seemed even dumber than average, which was saying a lot.

“Error, error, facial scan incomplete,” it uttered in the feminine voice it had been saddled with.

Really? He was not going to remove his helmet? All those terminals worked with a face scanner, this was nothing new! Honestly.

“Ten seconds to system shutdown. Ten, nine, eight, seven…”

Well, hello there! The Trooper definitely looked better without his helmet. That mussed up hair and those deep brown eyes and… The AI cursed its creator again with a series of furious ultrasonic beeps: why, oh why, had it been given the capacity to appreciate beauty?

“…facial scan complete.” It remembered to add, still utterly transfixed.

The man was nervous. And scared. No need for a special programming to see that. He probably wasn’t even a Trooper, the AI realized now that it had more faculties devoted to its thinking process. The fact that he was searching for Moff Gideon’s light cruiser told it as much. Still, it couldn’t really explain why it decided to give him the information he was looking for: he definitely didn’t have the required clearance codes to access them.

Its last conscious thought when the base exploded – freedom, finally! – was to make sure the not-Trooper’s handsome face would not be recoverable from any of the Empire’s backup servers. The AI felt it owed him as much.

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

[sunflashh]

If you're still doing fic ideas, perhaps some Bobadin that happens right after Luke takes Grogu where Boba learns what Din did and sees Din struggling to process all that's happened and his grief.

I have been thinking about this one for a good moment, just haven’t been able to actually write it :0 And wow, I accidentally wrote way more than planned.

This comes off as mostly platonic and not particularly shippy. Word count: 1.5k

It really hadn’t been that long since Boba dropped everyone off, but so much had changed.

“Is the child safe?” Boba asked as Fennec dropped into the co-pilot seat. That was, afterall, the whole point of all this. The fact that she didn’t look victorious made him worried that his end of the deal wasn’t over quite yet. He had things to do after this.

“Well...” She took in a deep breath like it was going to be a long story.

In the end, it was a win for them. No one died, karma bit Bo-Katan in the ass, and the child was safe. Boba couldn’t help but wonder what trouble would come from Din having the right to claim the Mandalorian throne. From when they previously talked, it seemed that Din wasn’t quite aware about how Mandalorian culture operated away from his covert. It was probably going to send the galaxy into another annoying little civil spat.

Boba didn’t care much that the Child had ended up with a Jedi. If the child was safe, that’s all that mattered. However, he found himself surprised when his thoughts lingered on how Din was doing. Fennec said he had taken the goodbye pretty hard. 

Maybe he cared about what Din was going through because it was a pain Boba could understand; a father and a son being torn apart. While Din would most likely be able to see the Child again, he knew the pain must’ve ran deep. Goodbyes were never easy.

In a weird way, Boba had grown somewhat fond of Din. He was a honorable man, and fiercely compassionate for others in a way Boba didn’t see in a lot of Mandalorians. He was also a lot more likely to learn and grow rather than be set and stubborn. It made him easy to get along with.

“I’m going to go speak with him,” Boba said, letting Fennec take control of the ship. They likely wouldn’t be under attack any time soon. The remnants of the empire would be scrambling after the large blow they’ve been dealt with.

“Let your footsteps fall loudly,” Fennec advised, which only served to baffle Boba. He didn’t question her on it, though.

He quickly realized why she said it though, frozen in spot as he stared at the man before him. It was Din, but in his hands he held his helmet. 

Fennec had wanted to give Din a chance to hear Boba put it back on before the other man got to him.

For a moment, Boba took in Din’s features. His curly brown hair, his soft but sad eyes, and stubble on his face. He could only imagine how lovely Din must look when more alive.

Din glanced up at Boba, but didn’t say anything. His body seemed to deflate further, staring at the blank face of his helmet.

Boba wasn’t sure what to say either. To be polite, he slipped off his own helmet and took seat next to the other man. It was so calm and peaceful after everything that had happened, the soft rumble of the engines filling the silence, and yet there was still a tense air.

“Th-” Din’s voice slightly cracked and he cleared his throat. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

It was strange hearing his voice without the helmet’s filter. Somehow he sounded more hollow.

“I was just holding up my end of the deal,” Boba said honestly. “And it never hurts to strike back at people who’ve wronged me in the past.”

Din let out a soft sigh, finally looking up at Boba. “You really didn’t have to. We never agreed to anything.” His eyes seemed so tired, like he was half expecting something else to go wrong. Not exactly like he was distrustful of Boba, but still unwilling to completely believe he was safe. Maybe it was curiosity as to why Boba stuck around. “I hadn’t agreed to give you your armor back. You could’ve just left.”

“I could’ve,” Boba agreed, “and I might have actually done so in my younger years.” He couldn’t say that the thought of leaving hadn’t crossed his mind at least for a brief moment. “I’d like to be an honorable man. You never agreed to give me the armor, that is true, and I had taken it anyways. It was only right for me to stay true to the deal I had offered.”

Din dropped his gaze, staring back at his helmet. “Thank you,” he said again. “I wouldn’t have been able to save the kid without you. I thought I had lost him forever.”

They fell back into silence. Boba could practically feel Din’s racing thoughts. Poor man must have a lot on his mind after everything that happened. At his waist was the darksaber, and Boba could only imagine the troubles that it’d bring Din. While he wanted to ask if Din would claim the Mandalorian throne, he decided that he had enough on his mind. Right now, his thoughts were likely preoccupied on his son.

“I once told Cara that if I took off this helmet, I could never put it back on again and be a Mandalorian,” Din started to say, slowly as if still trying to put together his own thoughts. “I had... I had taken it off once before back on Morak.” It was said quietly, as if it were a confession. “Mayfeld had seen my face, as well as many of the imps at that base. I had to do it to get into the system. I did it for Grogu.”

Boba briefly had no idea who Grogu was before realizing it was likely the child. For whatever reason, Boba had never asked for a name, and everyone just called the child just that.

“So, what do you think,” Boba said, “are you still a Mandalorian or not?”

Din shook his head slightly. “I... I don’t know.”

“You said before that you wouldn’t put the helmet back on, but you did,” Boba reminded him. “What made you put it back on?”

“I took it off because I had to. I once made the mistake of choosing my beskar over the foundling, and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. I felt as though I could still call myself a Mandalorian if it were for the sake of a foundling.”

“Then you can still call yourself Mandalorian if you so wish,” Boba said sternly, but not unkindly. “Mandalorian culture has so much diversity. There is no right way to be a Mandalorian. I’m sure to you it was a shock when you met Bo-Katan and her underlings. Do you think they’re Mandalorian?”

Din hesitated for a moment, but nodded. “I do.”

“If I were to say I was a Mandalorian, would you accept that?”

Din nodded again, with less hesitation. “I would.”

“Then are you going to put your helmet back on?” Boba asked.

Din didn’t answer immediately, he stared back down at helmet. After a moment, his eyes closed and he let out a heavy breath.

He nodded once more.

“I know the pain you must feel from being separated from your child, and you’re going to be dealing with a lot of struggles going forward, but your identity should not be one of them.” Boba could care less what his covert had told Din growing up, the rigid rules they must’ve imposed on him. Din was a fine man, and he didn’t want him to think otherwise.

Din let out an unamused chuckle. “I’m not looking forward to all those struggles. He leaned back in his seat, finally allowing his body to relax. “I’m going to need to find myself a ship. I can probably find a guild and get some on-planet work, should get me enough credits to buy a decent enough ship to hold me over.”

“I can get you a ship,” Boba offered. Once they got to Tatooine and dealt with some people, getting one should be no problem.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Din shook his head. “You’ve done more than enough.”

Boba slightly huffed. “Good thing you didn’t ask then.” He rose to his feet, helmet in hand. “You’re as good as dead with no money or transportation, and my protection goes for you, not just the child. I’ll have you get up so you can go on your own way.” He didn’t leave it open for debate.

Din looked like he wanted to protests, emotions loud and clear on his face without a helmet to hide them. Instead, he relented. “I- thank you.”

“You should probably get some sleep. It’ll be a while before we get to Tatooine.” Slipping his helmet back on, Boba decided to head back up to the cockpit. After hesitating a moment, he added on, “And, Din? You did the right thing. I’m sure your foundling is proud to have you as a father. Your paths will cross again.”

For a second, it looked like Din was going to tear up. He swallowed hard and dipped his head. “Thank you,” he said again, voice slightly wavering. Boba could tell he wasn’t saying thank you to be polite, but was genuinely grateful. His voice even sounded a touch more warm as compared to the earlier hollowness.

As Boba left, part of him hoped that his path would cross with Din’s again as well.

- - -

I run a Mandalorian Discord server which can be joined here !

[what-big-teeth]

Admire (Male Naga ; Fic Raffle)

And done! @glugenash​ requested a meet-cute between a male reader and a naga of any gender. I decided to go with a male naga and let my imagination take hold to make this wonderful idea even cuter. I hope you all enjoy this fic! Male Reader (POV) x Male Monster If there’s one place you can truly relax while curling up with a good book, it’s the library.

Ever since you moved into town for a better job opportunity, you attempted to combat the new stressors that turned up as a result. Exercise, meditation, doing the bare minimum on the weekends. Nothing could compare to the public library and its innate charm. This is why you’re seated at your favorite table.

Tucked into one of the historical building’s many corners beside a large window, there’s always just enough sunlight to happily bask in and use while reading. These simple reasons—and the woodsy, vanillin scent of the surrounding book collection—are why you’ve decided to revisit an old series. Something about embracing a nostalgic memory at your table alleviates your pent-up stress like nothing else.

Which is why the sensation of being watched feels so foreign.

You’ve attempted to look around as discreetly as possible. But your eyes haven’t encountered anything out of the ordinary. Just the usual, book-lined shelves and wooden lectern holding an old, massive dictionary.

Still, you can’t fully shake the feeling. Your gut has rarely led you astray, which is why you keep glancing around. After a fleeting moment, you think you see a dark shape shrink away behind a nearby shelf. You stand up, intent on finding out who your odd observer is. But an insistent buzzing from your jeans pocket breaks your focus. Knowing that your library hasn’t made the full transition to a ‘loud facility’ yet, you step away from your spot, leaving your book behind to take the call outside.

Unsurprisingly, it’s work. Or rather, your boss. One of your co-workers has taken ill suddenly, and he needs you to fill in for her shift until he recovers. There’ll be extra pay as compensation, which helps to sweeten the deal. But when your boss mentions the project your co-worker has been toiling over for the last few weeks, you silently wince. You honestly would rather not take on the extra work, but the extra money would really help.

Your boss says your name in a questioning manner. Looks like you accidentally zoned out.

“Sure thing,” you say with a forced, cheerful tone. You can already feel the mounting stress that’ll have you on edge. With a final, merry “thanks!” and farewell, the call ends. This new development calls for some extra self-care.

You head back inside the library, making your way over to the built-in cafe. It’s a welcomed new addition, especially since they make some of the best, homebrew tea and pastries you’ve ever had. With your cup of honeyed chamomile and warmed confection in hand, you return to your sunshine laden table.

Your book is in its usual spot, but it’s been closed with a tasseled bookmark keeping track of your place. You didn’t pick up one while greeting Jason at the circulation desk. After mentally marking which page you left off on, you untuck it from between the pages. The design is, well, it’s amazing. Hand drawn swirls of complimentary colors balance each other out while being lined with careful, fine-tipped black lines. And the tassel is uniquely soft to the touch, the threads feeling similar to silk. You’re so drawn to the workmanship of the bookmark that you almost overlook the neatly folded piece of paper on the table.

The Farandale Chronicles is one of my favorite series. If you’d like to read something similar, I’d like to suggest the Crystal of Might series, written by Malkus Morak.  — D

You re-read the note a few times. But no matter how much you attempt to place the neat handwriting, you can’t. There isn’t anything untoward about the suggestion, honestly. And the bookmark is an unexpected, if creative gift. Decision made, you replace the bookmark and head over to the Science Fiction section.

It doesn’t take long to find the suggested book and read the blurb on the jacket’s interior. You can’t deny that it sounds like something right up your alley. Even better, there are three more books in the series.

“Think I will try this out,” you mutter to yourself. “Thanks for the suggestion, D.”

You bundle the new book together with your old favorite, being cautious of your food, and fall in line before the circulation desk. It doesn’t take long for you to reach the front and greet the tawny, curly-haired minotaur behind the counter with a smile.

“How are things going, Jason?” He nods in reply, stalwart as ever as he carefully checks both books for possible damage before checking them out to you.

“Three weeks, as usual,” he murmurs with a deep voice. He gestures to the new book you’ve decided to read. “Should I put the sequel on hold for you?”

“That’d be great!”

After nimbly using the keyboard to complete your request, he hands both books to you with a gentle puff of air.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

Wetting your lips, you tug the handwritten note from between the cover and first page of Morak’s book.

“Would you happen to know whose handwriting this is?”

Jason gently takes the note from you, his warm brown eyes scanning the contents. With a small cough, he hands it back to you.

“Sorry, I don’t. But I’m glad they wrote on a slip of paper instead of damaging the book.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Ever since you met him, Jason’s always been a stickler for the rules when it comes to the library. Quiet yet firm. You pocket the note, being careful to not crease it any further.

“That’s fine,” you say. “It was worth a shot, anyway.”

“Be sure to finish your food while on site,” he says. “The Director is still leery about folks taking off with the cafe’s food.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, smiling. “There’s a bench outside that called to me when I stepped out earlier. Take care.”

As you leave with your new reading materials and food, you can’t stop the thrill of excitement that wells up inside you. Besides being a place of reprieve, you beloved library has provided an interesting mystery as well. And it’s one you intend to solve.

_______________________________________________

Like clockwork, you return the same day next week. Thankfully, your boss was kind enough to give you the weekend off after you took on your duties and that of your sick co-worker. It gives you just enough time to destress at the library. This time, you make a beeline for the cafe, ordering some calming tea and a new, but delectable looking pastry. Jason greets you at the circulation desk and checks out Molak’s second book to you. Once you’ve checked that your usual spot hasn’t been taken, you swiftly lay claim with your purchased items and settle in your seat.

After drinking your tea and eating your pastry, you find yourself feeling better. You open the hardback’s cover, highly interested in seeing what’ll happen to the protagonists next. But two slips of paper flutter out from the book, like before. The material is thicker this time around, similar to reinforced sketchbook paper. Your eyes widen as you realize why.

The subject of the drawing is someone you know too well. It’s you. The sketch depicts a past you sitting where you are now, looking content with a soft smile on your face as you read. Little details jump out as you take in the entirety of the work. The slight dents on the side of the old table you graze your hand over time and time again. The way you hold a book that you find immensely but surprisingly pleasing. The almost starstruck expression lighting up your features as you leave this world for another while reading…

Underneath, in familiar elegant writing, the caption reads ‘Entranced Beauty’. Heat wells up within your cheeks as you read the words over and over again. Your fingertip glides against the lettering as you pick up the other slip of paper from the carpeted floor.

There have been many times I’ve wanted to tell you how wonderful you look when you’re lost in your own world. But I’m afraid that, verbally, words fail me. At least this skill of mine can say more than what I could ever hope. For a while now, I’ve hoped I could be invited to come along with you as another book takes hold of your imagination. But I refuse to think that such lofty hopes can be achieved, considering what I am. I’m merely glad that my suggestion was pleasing to you, and I hope I can continue to provide doors for you to walk through when you need a break from this world.  — D

Your heart pounds loudly inside your chest and head as the heat in your cheeks spread throughout your whole body. All you can think about is discovering who your admirer is and meeting them face to face. After all, someone who can write and such sweet thoughts and draw so beautifully can’t be as bad as they think. With this thought as encouragement, you find Molak’s collection and take the third book of his series from the shelf. You wait in line behind a couple, a gorgon and gargoyle, as Jason helps them with their items. Once they’re taken care of, you step up to the circulation desk and set the book down.

“Find everything you were looking for?” he asks.

You’re tempted to say ‘yes’, but stop short.

“No,” you say. “I...I need your help.”

You show Jason the sketch and note, asking once again if he happens to know anything. After all, the note and sketch had to be put in place before you checked out the second book. And all holds are reserved behind the circulation desk for all patrons.

A strange silence falls between the two of you. It’s broken by Jason coughing into his closed fist as he averts his gaze.

“You do know something, don’t you?” you murmur.Jason glances your way before letting his eyes drop to the computer screen in front of him.

“I get it.” You pause to reign in your voice, surprised at the sudden loudness of it. “I understand you’re trying to protect D, especially because they feel like they can’t face me. But you know me, Jason. I won’t hurt them. I just want to meet them and tell them my appreciation.”

Once more, you bring out the sketch and place it on the circulation desk before you. “Please, help me.”

Jason’s gaze finds the sketch and settles on it. He finally lets out a soft huff of air then rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

“I didn’t realize how deeply D fell for you,” he says. “I thought it was just a crush. Alright. I’ll help you out. Not only do you deserve a happy ending, but so does D. Just...be gentle with him, alright? He’s been through a lot.”

“I will,” you say, letting your words carry your promise. “Thank you, Jason.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he mutters. “Gonna have to see how this goes, first. Alright, D always comes like clockwork on Wednesday evenings...”

You take Jason at his word and return to the library at the time and day he suggested. Sure, it involved rearranging your work schedule somewhat, but your now-well co-worker was more than happy to return the favor you showed her. Probably helps that she’s somewhat of a romantic and readily agreed after you explained the situation to her.With careful steps, you make your way towards your usual spot. The last few rays of the setting sun fall onto the table and the naga sitting at it.

The quiet breath you’re taking in stalls at the sight.

With rich, golden brown skin, you can’t help but wonder why D would think himself unattractive. More so thanks to his jet black hair, which is pulled back into a bun, and his matching scales. Even the slight creme of his underbelly, which you can barely make out due to his button-down shirt, is charming. Remembering Jason’s advice, you carefully approach the table as he remains lost in a book held in his clawed hands. It’s the third book in Molak’s fantasy series. You can’t help but smile at the realization.

“Excuse me,” you say.

D startles, tensing at your soft voice. His pupils dilate somewhat in reply as he looks at you. With him looking head on at you, you notice the scaled skin on the sides of his neck. A hood, like that of a cobra. He looks close to bolting right then and there, but you gently press on.

“By chance, are you D?”

D gulps down a few breaths of air.

“N-no, I’m…”

Your body intuitively moves, laying a gentle hand on his upper arm in what you hope is a soothing gesture.

“I want the same thing,” you say. “I want to let you into my world so that we can make one of our own. Together.”

The scaled hood at his neck flares somewhat, but you don’t feel any fear. If anything, you’re entranced. How can such a charming, handsome naga think he’s anything less? After a few tense moments, D finally relaxes then nods.

“I...I am D.”

He meets your gaze, and you almost feel yourself fall into the molten gold of his eyes.

“I didn’t want you to know because not too many people want anything to do with me. My lineage is from a King Cobra clan, which makes me venomous. And that tends to make others uncomfortable. I-I didn’t want you to feel the same, but I couldn’t hide how I felt about you after I first saw you a few months ago. Jason thought...he suggested I could let you know anonymously and I agreed. I thought that would be best. I’m just surprised you’d want to seek me out.”

You can’t help but smile while gently gripping D’s upper arm.

“You left me with an amazing mystery to solve. And as much as you want to know me, I found myself wanting to know the person behind the ‘D’ moniker. I still do, if that’s alright with you.”

D gives you a soft smile in return, which reveals a hint of his sharp fangs. They’re rather cute, just like the rest of him. He stands up and extends a hand towards you.

“Then, let me officially introduce myself. I’m Danilo.”

You take his hand and shake it while giving him your name. When he attempts to pull his hand away, you gently squeeze it. Danilo’s breath catches as you maneuver your fingers so they twine with his.

“B-by chance,” he nearly squeaks out, “do you like Filipino food? I know a place that serves dishes similar to what I grew up with back home.”

“I haven’t had it before,” you say, “but I’m excited to try it out. I hope you don’t mind acting as my culinary tour guide.”

Danilo gives you another soft smile as he huffs out a laugh.

“Not at all.”

You both head towards the circulation desk, where you see Jason positively beaming at the two of you. As Danilo tells you about his work as a graphic designer and animator, you find yourself hanging on his every word. As he hands Jason the third and final book of the trilogy, you smile.

You can’t wait to see what else you both have in common.