#orbak

[jazaesis]

“The Huntress and The Assassin”

Hala and Morticia ( @chewbaccawithouthan)

[crown-and-stallion]

Say what you will about Rise of Skywalker, but I loved the orbaks. Here, have a beast!! And a baby beast!

[ivystoryweaver]

No One Like You - Poe Dameron

Poe + Horseback riding

Fall Fluff Masterlist | Poe Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Okay so, this ficlet is a "deleted scene" from my unwritten "Poe crash lands to Earth" story I'm pretending will be posted in Poevember. For that reason, you will discover the slightest slivers of angst surrounding that concept, but I promise it's fluff.

Word count: 1.3k (technically not a ficlet, oh well!) || for @virtie333

Darkness faltered as the last stars danced against its covering canopy. Robins chirped dawn's arrival, their song scattering night's hold over the earth.

Booted footfalls fell on damp soil, carrying you out to the stables, where two magnificent animals waited for your attention eagerly.

Poe Dameron watched as you nuzzled your forehead against the fairer one, stroking gently and whispering, "Good morning, sweet girl."

The darker, redder horse beside her let out a slightly annoyed squeal, which made you chuckle before granting her equal attention, speaking so softly, Poe could barely hear you.

Polishing off the rest of his caf - or coffee, as Earthlings called it - Poe set his ceramic mug down, hoping to be of some use.

Weeks had passed since he'd come to be here with you - since his X-wing spun out of control, through a black hole to a galaxy far, far away. It took the two of you almost a week to successfully hide his nearly obliterated ship on your farm and make up a cover story, should anyone come knocking.

It also took quite a lot of convincing for Poe to believe that there was no one on Earth who could help repair his ship - not without drawing the kind of attention that would get him locked up or put under a microscope.

So, he decided to trust you.

You gave him a bed in your spare room, two warm meals a day, and in return, he helped out on your small farm. He wasn't sure how he could ever get home, but this place wasn't so bad, for now.

"Are there horses where you're from?" You asked Poe a bit later, brushing the coat of your sweet Annabelle.

"There were animals called orbaks one one of the moons of a planet called Endor. And I think there are your kind of horses on its forest moon. Never seen those myself, though," Poe explained, gesturing toward your animal.

A warm smile brightened your face. "So did you ever ride an orbak?"

"No," he cockily grinned. "I was too busy flying my X-wing. My best friend rode one in battle though. It was - what do you say? ‘Badass.’”

Giggling at the colloquialism, you finished brushing Annabelle's mane and reached for the fly spray. "I cannot believe you've been in actual battles. In space. You must think Earth is so boring."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Earth has wars, right? Battles, soldiers? It's the same thing."

"True, but no laser guns and laser swords and powerful wizards and talking furry...what did you call Chewbacca?"

"A Wookiee," Poe chuckled.

After spraying Annabelle, you fed her a quick treat and saddled her. "You be nice to Poe, sweet girl," you instructed her affectionately. "He's new to this."

"Are you sure you don't want to ride her?" Poe politely asked you. "I can try the other one."

You glared at him half-jokingly. "I promise you do not want to ride Arzola. She's not for newbies."

Dark eyebrows shot up at the challenge. "You know, I can fly anything."

"Fly, sure. Ride?" Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you winked at him. "Leave the riding to me."

Poe Dameron had never backed down from a challenge in his life, and two in a row had just been laid before him.

Arzola. And you.

"Her loss," he playfully shrugged, carefully approaching the moodier chestnut. "You don't know what you're missing, sweetheart."

"Are you flirting with my horse?" You swatted his arm with a pretend huff.

Trapping your hand against his bicep with incredible reflexes, his eyes locked with yours before momentarily flickering down to your lips. "Not with her."

Arzola nudged her way between the two of you protectively, breaking your temporary trance.

Clearing your throat, you nodded toward her saddle. "Come on, I'll show you how to do this."

Soon enough, you and Poe guided Arzola and Annabelle, respectively, out for an early morning ride.

As expected, Poe was a natural and quickly took command of Annabelle, showing no signs of nervousness and forming an instant bond with her. He seemed so good at it, you almost felt a mildly jealous pang at how she warmed to him. He'd tried out Annabelle a couple times, on quick walks around the paddock, but this was the first real ride.

Sunlight spilled over the horizon, illuminating the path before you, inviting you to rush headlong to where light kissed the earth.

You clicked twice, urging Arzola ahead into a full run, which Annabelle immediately followed.

Poe, of course, accepted the challenge and gave Annabelle a gentle squeeze with his legs. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Annabelle neighed out an affirmation, galloping ahead of the competition. Arzola possessed fiery spirit in spades, but Annabelle's legs were longer, and she preferred to think of herself as the favorite.

"That's my girl," Poe bellowed out a joyful laugh as crisp autumn air whipped through his curls, tossing them carelessly around his forehead. He chanced a look at you, flashing you a devastating grin, dark eyes bright and reddened by the sun's kiss, almost a twin color to Arzola's coat.

This was closest you'd come to seeing him in action, aside from a few projects he'd attempted with a hammer around the farm, and you had to admit, it was a good look on him.

Despite the joy surging through you at the chance to take both your girls out for a run, and with Poe, no less, you still possessed a competitive streak of your own.

With a powerful command you'd probably come to regret, you granted Arzola the permission she was impatiently waiting for, to run top speed and catch the stranger riding her adoptive sister.

Despite the vigor and exertion involved with riding a horse at a full gallop, the look on Poe's face as he stared out over the horizon could be considered nothing short of pure peace.

The two of you slowed and finally brought your animals to a stop. After walking them for a few minutes, you offered them a drink from a hose and trough near a ramshackle tool shed at the far end of your property.

You and Poe sat down on the creaky old steps leading up to the door, taking a moment to have a drink yourselves while the sun finally climbed all the way to full daylight.

"Thanks for this," he softly uttered, turning to gaze at your profile.

Although you felt him staring, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes.

"You're welcome." Finishing off your water bottle, you glanced over at your horses. "Annabelle likes you. Really likes you. She usually can't be bothered to race Arzola."

"Why is that?"

"She's just gentle. She must've had a good reason to challenge her," You explained with a knowing wink.

Poe beamed proudly, following your gaze over to the magnificent creatures. "They're amazing animals. I know it doesn't make sense, but Arzola reminds me of BB-8 a little bit."

"Of a robot?" You scoffed. "For real?"

"A droid," Poe corrected. "Believe me, they can have spirit."

"He must be wonderful," you sympathized, knowing he was separated from the little guy.

Poe ran a hand over the stubble on his chin, eyes dipping as he contemplated a life so far away from everything he'd ever known.

Swallowing, he bravely scooted a little closer to you, meeting your eyes with the openness and sincerity you'd come to expect from him.

"He would be really happy to know that I met someone like you. Someone who helped me. Protected me."

Your lip trembled slightly under his intensity. You'd never met a man like him in your life. There couldn't possibly be anyone like him, at least not on this planet.

Laying your hand gently over his, you spoke from your heart. "I know you didn't plan on any of this, but I'm happy I met you, Poe."

Fall Fluff Masterlist | Poe Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[hetalianskywalker]

Wedding Cake Cookies

Summary: Captain Rex makes it to Coruscant in time for your favorite Life Day tradition.

Author’s Note: Captain Rex x gn! reader Life Day fic. Purely self indulgent and making Mexican Wedding Cake Cookies, my favorite Christmas Cookie.

Warnings: Fluff with an implication of something more at the end. Baking cookies.

Word Count: 1227

Thank you for reading!

“What are you making, senaar?” You jump a little, having been far too focused rolling the dough in your hands. You could hear the sound of a half-suppressed chuckle as you turned to face him. The scared surprise melts away into pure joy.

“Well hello to you too.” You tease gently, setting down the chilled dough. He meets you halfway and pulls you into a warm hug. Well, warm as it could be with the plastoid still on.

“I thought you had another week.” You mutter as you close your eyes, basking in his presence. Your arms hold firm around him and he kisses the top of your head.

“The general found a way to get back early.” You can’t help but laugh at that one; your face still hidden in his chest. They had made it home just before Life Day; there was no way Skywalker didn’t have secret plans. However, you weren’t going to look a gift Orbak in the mouth.

“Of course he did.” You huff good naturedly. You look up at him and Rex arches an eyebrow. Your grin only grows.

“Don’t go starting any rumors, cyare.” You get on your tiptoes and give him a quick peck.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Your captain rolls his eyes before they wander back to your cookies-to-be. You blink as your mind comes back online. He had probably never had them before, especially since they weren’t an extremely popular Life Day cookie.

“Their called Ferrix Wedding Cake Cookies, but I’ve heard pantorans have them too and call them Pantoran Tea Cookies.” You reluctantly let go of his waist before grabbing his hand. He lets you bring him to your kitchen counter where the still cool dough sits waiting. You had rolled it out before it chilled and were slowly tearing pieces off to roll into balls; your hands’ heat making the hard dough more malleable.

“The dough smells really nice.” You giggle at the genuine remark. You turn and catch his brown eyes for a split second before quickly looking away at the dough again. You press your lips together to hide the smile at his slightly flustered expression.

“That would be the vanilla extract and butter.” You respond, taking in the nostalgic smell for a moment. He watches you quietly set the finished ball on the tray. Rex’s shoulders relax as he watches you, enjoying the peace, your presence, and that softly sweet smell. He’s home.

“Would you like me to roll or put them on the tray?” You beam at the offer, but shake your head.

“Go take your armor off, Rex. Get comfortable first.” You gently respond, wanting to make sure he didn’t misunderstand your rejection, as you tear off another piece of dough. He kisses your temple in response as you begin rolling the dough. You listen to his boots head toward the bedroom and then the door sliding open and closing.

You pause a moment, feeling your eyes well up with unshed tears. You rest the ball on the counter as you blink them away. You hadn’t realized how lonely you were this Life Day, adding on to the stress of the war in general and worrying about him.

But he was here. Really here. Maker, he came home during your favorite holiday tradition; you got to share it with him. And now you didn’t have to spend the holiday alone, but more than that, you have your Rex to spend it with.

You smile, taking a deep breath. No time for tears. You quickly get back to work; maybe you can have them in the oven and start a pot of caf before he gets back.

***

You flop down on the couch as you hear the bedroom door open. Rex pauses upon seeing you on the couch; you grin, waving him over. He looks much more comfortable in the black sweatpants and blue t-shirt, but the exhaustion is way more obvious.

He sits beside you and you immediately cuddle into his side for warmth. His body only relaxes more and lets himself sink into the couch.

“Your highness,” your sing-songy tone makes him turn to you with amused curiosity. The teasing about the translation of his name to basic only meant trouble.

He gave an inquisitive humm in response. You giggle as you feel the vibrations just as much as hear them.

“You’re tired.” You state.

“Am I that easy to read?” He leans his forehead against your own and you feel your face grow warm at the gesture.

“Yes.” He gives a slightly sour look and you laugh. The look he gives you melts away into a content one as you both drift into a comfortable silence. Coruscant rain hitting your window and traffic become the main sounds in your apartment. One of the best parts of your relationship was how you could both be content with just the other’s presence.

“When will the cookies be done?” He inquires as he plays with your hair.

“About 5 minutes now, but the caf should be done already.” The thankful smile that graces his face makes starting the pot beyond worth it. “I don’t want you falling asleep on me.”

“No, I’ll try a cookie first, senaar.” It’s your turn to become flushed. It turns to laughter as you watch him fight a yawn.

You slowly get up. His hand lingers until you are out of reach and you are hit with the reminder that he missed you as much as you missed him. You reach back for his hand and give it a gentle tug. He laughs at your futile attempt to get him on his feet before slowly getting up.

Once back in the kitchen, you begin to pour two cups of caf. He stands behind you with his arms gently wrapped around your waist. You can’t help but smile as you hand him his cup as the timer goes off. Grabbing the mits, you take the tray out of the oven.

“They don’t expand?” Rex asked, sounding a little confused.

“Not really. They still taste good though.” You gently set the tray down as you hear him sip his caf. “They just have to cool and then they get covered in powdered sugar.”

He moves out of the way as you go to grab the bag. Once you have a bowl of powdered sugar ready, you ask about the recent battles. You listen to what he wishes to speak of, but respect what is too hard for him to talk about.

“It’s hard to wait.” He says after you both were lost in conversation for a while. You laughed, being caught off guard, and almost choke on your caf. He presses his lips together as the contained laughter makes his shoulders shake. “What? They smell good.”

“Alright. Alright.” You laugh and dunk two of the cookies in the sugar and hand one to Rex. You watch him take a bite and you blush as he closes his eyes, enjoying the taste.

“Good huh?” He gives you a bright smile in response. He sets down the rest of the cookie and pulls you close.

“Yes, ma’am.” The way Rex says it brings a chill up your spine as you meet him halfway for a kiss. Maybe the rest of the cookies could wait for sugar till Life Day Morning.

[fynsh]

Fox spots his youngest batchmate in the Rotunda when they are supposed to be on the other side of the Galaxy

Fox had just started the first round of his patrol in the Rotunda's corridors after standing guard for a long debate when he spotted familiar yellow markings among the sea of extravagant robes of senators and aides and the red of his guard.

When had his vod'ika made it planetside? Had he missed any notifs from headquarters while trying to not project his simmering anger being forced to listen to yet another debate about commissioning more troopers to turn the tides of war in the Republic's (and some Senators' personal) favor? A quick check of the newly received messages and scheduled events on his HUD confirmed that the commander standing just down the corridor should be with their men in the Outer Rim. The Albedo Brave hadn't docked on 000 for three months and wasn't scheduled to do so for at least just as many. He pinged Thire to look for information from the landing platform.

Fox signed to his current squad to continue their rounds without him and to stay focused before deviating from the assigned route. It was already late in the cycle and since today's debate in the Senate hadn't sparked any extraordinary conflicts the Guard didn't expect a particularly busy night. At least not busier than any other night on a planet that never slept and seemed to be the biggest feeding ground for crimes of all kinds.

The red soles of his boots clicked on the durasteel floor. His little brother was looking down the opposite side of the corridor but turned their head at the sound. As soon as they spotted him their tense shoulders seemed to drop a bit. Fox switched to a direct personal line.

"Tali'ka, what are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too, Fox."

Fox could tell they aimed for cheerful but tension bled into their normally smooth voice. That wasn't very reassuring. Where were their men? As far as Fox could see there were no other troopers with the 13th yellow markings around.

"Is everything alright? Why wasn't I notified of your arrival? Are you alone?"

Tali tensed again and quickly tilted their bucket towards a closed door in the direction they had previously been focusing on. Fox nodded and strut towards what he knew was a stuffed supply room. He also knew it would be unoccupied at this hour since the droids of this section were busy tidying the heart of the Rotunda and the smell of various strong cleaning detergents seemingly made it unsuitable for any "secret activities" the natborns tried to hide from the cameras in the corridors. Their buckets would filter the stench but as soon as the door swished close behind them his brother unsealed theirs and clipped it to their belt.

Tali's dark hair curled around their shoulders, even when they had tied it in a high orbak tail. There was a atypical thightness around their eyes and the small scar on the left side of their lips emphasized the unusual down turn of the corners of their mouth.

"What the kark do you store here?"

Fox briefly considered keeping the comfort of his bucket in hopes Tali would just put theirs back on, but when dark eyes expectantly met his through the visor he relented and reached up to pull it off.

"Cleaning detergents. You can probably burn a hole into the walls with this stuff but the droids dilute them."

His vod'ika crossed their arms in front of the striking yellow v on their breast plate. They squinted at what Fox assumed were new scars on his face. He hadn't kept up with comparing the timeline of the incidents that had etched themselves into his appearance with the one of meeting his batchmates.

"Did someone throw those at you?"

Fox recognized a diversion tactic when he saw one.

"No. Tali why are you here?"

"I'm assigned to accompany our commander to the Temple for a private lesson."

"This isn't the Temple."

A sigh left his brother's lips. They should've known Fox would not stop asking. He had always been the one to keep being adamant about gathering any information possible.

"The commander isn't at the Temple either. He clearly wasn't looking forward to his lesson and convinced me to go for a walk instead of heading straight to the Temple and I thought it would be safest to stretch our legs here.."

Fox raised an eyebrow into his greying locks but just waited for Tali to continue. They took the hint.

"I didn't account for him racing off into the vents when something spooked him.. I lost the commander an hour ago.."

"Something spooked him? Do we need to look for a dangerous individual in this building?"

He already had started tapping another message to Thire, who was on shift overseeing the headquarters ,and promptly received an affirmative about reenforcing the current squads on Senate patrol.

Tali started shifting their weight from one foot to another. The tightness around their eyes had intensified when Fox looked up at them again.

"Does the commander have a comm? Can you contact him?"

The long hair swished from one shoulder to another as they unhappily shook their head before the words started tumbling out in a rush.

"No, he dropped it when entering the shafts.. and we're too big to follow him. We usually don't need to. I know the ventilation system layout of the venators and our General can usually tell where he will go.. but ori'vod this building is massive! What if he gets lost and can't find his way back? Cal is maybe ten years standard and skittish as haran. He is tiny even for a natborn human! I just managed to convince him to hold onto my hand because the Senators have no sense of personal space before he bolted. He quite literally slipped through my fingers.."

Fox took a step towards the younger commander and firmly put his hands on their shoulders. He made a point to directly look into Tali's eyes.

"Tali'ka, take a breath. If the commander is in this building he is in one of the safest place on Coruscant. He is just as safe as would be in the Temple. And even if you don't, I know the layout of this building. We will find him. I'm sure you did not scare your commander off. Maybe he just heard a rude Senator yell at their aide or something. Natborns can be sensitive."

Tali closed their eyes and slowly rested their forehead onto Fox when inhaling deeply. They had always felt safest with their batch.

"I just feel incompetent, ori'vod. Who the kark loses their tiny commander when escorting him from the landing pads to the Temple. Master Vos will inform my General and he will rightfully never trust me with his Padawan again."

Fox reached for their neck to keep them close for another moment before pulling away. He even smiled a little crooked at their vod'ika.

"Master Vos? I've seen him around on Coruscant. He doesn't strike me as the type to report something as long as it didn't hurt anyone. Too much paperwork. That man won't even fill a proper report after blowing up some spice ring in the upper levels."

Fox squeezed their neck reassuringly before he opened the small holo projector on his vambrace to display the blue print of the Rotunda's ventilation shafts while simultaneously starting another call. Tali felt the tension in their chest ease focusing on their ori'vod. He had always known how to calculate risks and didn't lie just to offer comfort when chances of success were low. He was guarding the homefront. He was the safe place when everyone else felt like walking on egg shells. The comm line connected on the second ping.

"Hello Fox, how can I help you?"

The vod who had picked up sounded way too chipper and awake for this time of the cycle. His flippant greeting had Fox roll his eyes. But the Marshall Commander didn't reprimand his trooper even if his voice was stern.

"Sergeant Hound, I need you at to the Senate building to locate a missing ade. Bring a full squad with your calmest massiffs. You have ten minutes."

Cal picked up a stray echo from Tali and like the scaredy tooka he is escaped to a place nobody can touch him. OC Talisman, called Tali, is the clone commander of the Iron Battalion under Cal's Master Jaro Tapal. They are the youngest batchmate of Fox, Wolffe, Cody, Bly and Ponds (completing 3 golden commanders to balance 3 blood red ones).

[tremendum]

twin suns ; the awful daring of a moment's surrender

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

part one of the Twin Suns series ; prologue

pairing: au (canon-divergent), western-inspired Din Djarin x fem!bounty!reader (afab, w use of woman, girl, etc)

 rating: eventually explicit in future chapters. slow slow burn. (18+. mdni.)  

warnings: canon-typical violence, themes of hunting/being hunted, fear

synopsis: "you are a shadow in Mos Espa, while Din Djarin is a statue in the suns."

notes: alright heres the official first part to my new series!! written between both povs bc i wanna work on writing in din’s pov :’)still setting up characters and settings but itll definitely pick up in the next part! hope yall enjoy :) not beta'd because im sloppy

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

every step you take, you crush worlds.

the sand that makes up the surface of the planet slides under your power, the lilt in your stride stricken with nerves carving out a pattern known only to you.

the sand is everywhere.

you slip on it as your boots move; demolishing over tiny mountains that climb up towards the sky, crushing them below your titan feet. there's sand in your tunic, sticking to your thighs. it grits between your teeth as you forge ahead.

you allow yourself a shaky, dry breath which exhales from your lungs in the same defeated way that your feet trudge along the eroded soil, scarce of vegetation but abundant enough in your own regret. 

an itch stabs the back of your head - not the normal kind, but the kind that strikes your heart in a gallop like a wild Orbak stallion - you can feel him.

a pair of unseen eyes on you, but you don't have to turn to see him: 

disrupting the continuity of the bounding wasteland sprawled out behind your frame is a small shining dot; far enough away, but you do not let the perspective of distance lower your guard.

far away, but not far enough:  the large, bulking body covered in beskar. 

he stalks after you, just like always. you've almost gotten used to this kind of game. he's always there, always following - exceptionally, on the few occasions which you were following him.

for weeks he's been slinking around the corners of your nightmares. that tattered cape curling around corners, that bulking frame of metal towering over every space he fits in, his own skill of the hunt flirting with your sheer ego; yes, you are good at hiding, at running.

but you are also too full of hubris. too good at poking the sleeping bear for your own good. and- kriffing hell, you've gone too far this time. you let yourself a small groan of nerves as you shake your head, recalling the steps that'd led you to this final leg of your journey. 

panic licks up your throat like a shot of liquor begging to resurface. The Mandalorian persistently appears larger and larger upon the horizon behind you, but he doesn't run.

he's lying in wait for his time to ensnare you. 

you know his time will come soon, and he will pounce upon you. 

your heart clutches its sodded pearls within your chest at the prospect of being captured after your short-lived taste of freedom - this newfound nomadic life as enticing as it is provisional for your escape. you don't allow yourself the luxury of pity as you will your burning thighs to push along. 

at the prospect of hiding, your legs carry you faster through the wasteland; though you can hear the clock ticking louder and louder as the hunter's feet trod after yours. he's closing in, but a light gust of warm desert air nearly stops you in your tracks: you feel a grin spread across your cracked lips at the realization: 

nightfall will come soon. 

so you forge on; one foot in front of the other, wheezing breaths, screaming lungs. the trail you leave is no problem to you as long as the twin suns start their descent into slumber soon. 

another forty five minutes until your breath is soothed. the suns have wavered over the horizon, and the dilapidated buildings have come back into view.

you smile once again, a deliriously relieved laugh echoing over the empty landscape, swallowed up by the very sand that you crush.

you're going back into town, and he will follow you. 

he does it every night. 

with a drip of sweat sliding down the expanse of your neck, you clear your aching throat, desperate for a flagon of water. the cityline swirls as the suns cast an iron orange over the sky. you start to listen to your body's quiet pleads: your bones ache. your muscles scream for rest - desperate, you realize, for sleep. 

soon, you chide in your mind. soon. 

soon, the twin suns will settle into the unseen realm of the cosmos, dipping enough below the crest of the planet to paint the sky of Mos Espa in a deep lilac and sparkling fuchsia -  and you will sink, much like those suns you so despise, into the walls of every building you pass. your blaster will stay holstered upon the meat of your thigh, a heavy burden while you blend in seamlessly to your surroundings.

a city rat, through and through.

you smirk down at the dustdevils that kick up as the evening wind carries grains to and fro near your shins. fuck you and your desert, scum. to whom you mock, you do not know. 

soon, you will find a cantina full of those who are also nobodies; most of them older than you, more experienced - more deadly. full of hate, or disdain, or exhaustion from a galaxy that put them too low on the spokes of the wheel that will turn for eternity. 

but not you; this diminutive existence doesn't bother you. outlawed in your prime, you've been forced to jump head-first off the lowest end of the spoke, down towards the unknown abyss below.

you're nobody, now. on the run - no exhaustion, just anticipation; the peak of the mountain, the wind that zips underneath the wings of an unknown bird. 

desperate for an escape from the one who haunts you day and night, lucid and dreaming. 

the Mandalorian arrives like clockwork. 

it's been the same routine for- what, almost three standard weeks? you're unsure why he hasn't yet taken you to his ship and sent you off to your debts with a heavy sack in his hand, gleaming with the promise of a few more rations or maybe a refuel for his metal steed.

with no intended disrespect to yourself, you truly don't understand why. depending on the information he has on you, surely he just sees you as an outlaw; a little skittering bug which has plagued his routes to more lucrative jobs by evading his crushing boot in the several instances your planets have collided. 

and it's not as if he isn't capable.

you are smart, that much you will give yourself credit for. smart, conniving, you know how to get what you need - that's what got you into this mess in the first place. but he's... different. a damn machine.

you can tell from the way he slings his blaster, the sheer force of his body. his imposing presence. the legacy of his people, the best warriors in the galaxy: it was true, at least from what you've seen.

you may be handy with a knife and a blaster, but you know you're nothing compared to the Mandalorian bounty hunter who will soon find you. 

normally, you aren't really one to spook easily. years of shady business in the grimiest corners of the galaxy have hardened you into a cocky motherfucker - but you have the decency to admit that the low, modulated baritone that rumbles through the Mandalorian's helmet sends spears of fear down your spine. only a handful of times you've been in close enough range to hear him, but once is more than enough in your book. 

there's something about that calm posterior and the smooth voice that settles fear deep, deep into your being. 

there's been three times you've heard his voice. each one its own close-call, in which you'd nearly surrendered yourself to him like a child caught swiping ration packets in front of the Marshal.

the first time was a true lothcat-and-rat chase through the back alleys. it'd only subsided once you'd maneuvered your way into the ducts of a backside apartment building - the Mandalorian is a tall man, anchored to the ground beneath him under the weight of the beskar armor. he's imposing, a large force that you shouldn't be any match to - but what he isn't, is agile enough to fit through the ducts. not with all of his sacred armor draped upon him.

but that first time, the chase was over before it really began. you were shocked to discover, once tucked away in your hidey-hole, that the chase left you with a heated core but also the sinking warning that not all attention is good attention, after all.

he didn't pursue you hard enough. that's how you knew he was a professional. that's how you knew he'd just lie in wait, holding with baited breath in the shadows for you to let barely a centimeter of your guard down before he swiped you up like a hawk and kept you clutched in his metal talons. 

so the first time, his voice only came from curses and grunts of anger or exertion that you'd heard as he'd leapt over discarded alleyways. though your heart slammed into your chest each time he tore through buildings or kicked down doors to follow you, there was no denying the tickle your chest that yearned to hear his voice again.

because you needed to win. to survive.

the second time was a flick of your middle finger in his direction.

he'd been tailing you for two days relentlessly; you'd spend most of your days on the outskirts, scrapping in the junkyards and selling it for rations to get by. he was always there - every few hours or so, a glint in the corner of your vision. watching patiently.

the patience this man showed had driven you over the edge.

so the second time, when you'd allowed yourself into the same cantina that he'd slinked into with a pouch on his side that seemed to move inexplicably, your curiosity got the best of you - as did your pride.

you'd seen him slip through the doors after an hour of crawling several hundred feet behind and above him on rooftops; your body shrinking in to conceal yourself under your hood as you slid into a booth in the cantina just out of his sight. 

you knew he was a good hunter, not just by his preceding reputation, but because there had been others before him.

many of them, in the last few weeks since you've been gone - maybe seven, or eight. but you'd bested them all within days if not hours; escaping planet or jumping ship. anything to avoid the weight of the chains which, just as quickly as you'd splintered them from your wrists, were surely to clasp right back on. 

and then, the other thing. something about him intrigues you: he's still here, following you patiently, even after all of the bullshit you've pulled.

in your youth, the woman who lived across the hallway from your family had run a makeshift daycare for the children of your quadrant. in a fit of frustration, she'd mentioned once that the best way to deal with a child that throws a tantrum is to just wait them out until they get tired. 

something about that memory heated your cheeks as you'd glared at the helmet across the cantina; his head tilted down coyly as he seemingly spoke to the young woman working bar. 

perhaps he just likes the thrill of the hunt and the reward of his bounty's fear. he didn't have to try hard to get it, after all: jealousy stung strong in your stomach when the crowd cowered back at his presence; alarmed, maybe. in awe, perhaps. but certainly, definitely in fear. 

something about how cocky he was when he carried himself, how blatantly he'd taken to trailing you in your daily processes on-the-run in the dismal city of Mos Espa. how he'd even tilted his head at you in some sort of twisted greeting at the market days ago when your eyes met his helmet just above the line of the crowd; just before giving to the chase that led to you learning the location of his contact, and the old Hunter's Guild of Nevarro. 

you resented the Mandalorian.

you're still not fully clear on who set the bounty on you - your old business partner, likely. it boils your blood to imagine. the New Republic may be dismal, but Maker knows everyone has to do something to survive. you just couldn't keep doing what you were doing anymore, and the only ways out were... well, either running away or falling victim through galactic court. 

no, thanks. 

you don't like the Mandalorian because you can bet everything on your back that he's willing to hand over anything to anyone as long as it gets more of that silver beskar on his chest. 

so it was the second time you heard his voice, your own ears straining hard as the server in the cantina came round to the Mandalorian's booth twenty minutes later. you'd watched with a satisfied smirk as the waiter had presented him with a nice, hearty jug of Desert Chase - a cocktail from the menu that you'd personally hoped would offend the Mandalorian the most.

it was ironic in a way that made your stomach giddy and your grin split in two under your mask. it was a cheeky name, at the very least, and you figured he wasn't dense enough for the irony to pass over his helmet completely.  

your grin was untamable as you watched; the server, pushing the drink his way and passing on the message you'd slipped him five credits to tell the Mandalorian: happy hunting, Mando - followed by your first name.

oh, it was a delight and a half to watch that shiny, stupid helmet whip up towards the crowd near the bar in shock.

and then his deep, rolling, excuse me? that thundered through the walls in his untamable frustration. the coiling warmth in your stomach after he pushed up from the booth with his head on a swivel. 

because you figured if you were going to be caught, at least you were going to have some fun beforehand.

you can pretend not to love the hammering in your chest all the same. 

the third time, though - it was a momentary weakness. a genuine accident. a sign of humanity lost within the planets and systems of bad and good, of black and white.

and it'd actually sent just as much panic into him as it did to you. 

you saw him before he saw you. his back was turned, fiddling with the sack strapped to his speeder. like a prey, rigid, you'd slid from your post and snuck towards his speeder, the one that'd been discarded in favor of heavy, projectile-strapped boots upon eroded dirt only several hundred feet away, to a merchant stand which sold some kind of cloth to protect from the suns' rays.

you had barely thirty seconds to get it before he returned to the bike, you estimated. 

you'd moved much too fast in your self-preserving mindset; sped off on the rusted thing without realizing there was a small bundle within the supply basket on the back.

a moving bundle. 

and, to your horror: inside, a curious little green creature which stared up at you with confusion as you'd gasped in shock. 

it happened in stages: first, you'd considered throwing it off; tossing it to the wind to be swallowed up by some sandworm or scorched to a crisp in the unforgiving, sweltering air.

you thankfully didn't do that because shortly after the thought crossed through your mind: dank farrik, this thing was- it was some kind of...baby. it was tiny, its screams of confusion barely clipping through the hot rush of air blowing your head covering back in your speed. what in the name of Maker's Ghost was the Mandalorian doing with a baby? 

then, the following stage, with a thudding halt to your heartbeat, you'd wondered if it was like you. hunted, about to be sent to a place of no return just for a lousy sack of credits. would the Mandalorian stoop so low as to kidnap a mere child for a bounty? 

but then a glint on the thing’s chest pummeled you into the third mental process: a cold sheer panic.

 there was some sort of armor on its tiny, heaving chest. you knew, somehow, that this was a claim. he was with the Mandalorian, either in protection or by blood.

the speeder skidded to a stop as you allowed yourself to wonder if it was some sort of ploy; was he ensnaring you in a trap, coaxing you into his iron maw with a small child? 

(he wasn’t, as you’d later learned.)

you’re not sure why you went back. even with a clear target on the back of your head, you’d treaded on-foot back with the little baby cradled in a makeshift sling tight to your chest. the trek back into the city was blistering without your head covering, but the child’s wailing had ceased along with your racing fears. you hadn't wanted him to become scalded by the twins that beat down upon you from the sky. 

you'd grunted and growled to yourself: no matter who the Mandalorian assumed you were, you weren’t the kind to kidnap. never. 

maybe that's what caused you to track him back to his ship, wait for him to storm back out in his flurry, surely panicked by the loss of his transport and his small little companion.

he'd flown on a jetpack straight towards town. you left the child under the shade of the ship once you saw the Mandalorian's figure appear on the horizon; you couldn't have spent more than thirty minutes with the green creature, but it cried nonetheless when you set it gently in the sand and tried to let it go.

reluctantly, the only way it stopped crying was when you left it tucked snug with your headscarf pulled tight around its body. 

and then you snuck away in the last moments, evading the Mandalorian's sights, but watching behind a rock to make sure he returned to the child eventually, before it was dark.

and he did return; as he picked up the child and let out a groan of relief, tucking the child tight into his chest the way your father did you when you were in your youth, something too warm kindled in your chest. 

was it humanity, that you'd found?

the thing that was all too lost in your endeavors running away from the bounty which loomed above your head? 

maybe he, too, could play by the rules, even in this hunt. 

Din isn't quite sure what he expected from you. 

when he first took your puck, it seemed easy: a smuggler. young, naive, too cocky to be cautious. bought out by a man who said you'd robbed him of half his business then disappeared just before defending him in front of a galactic court.

Din had imagined you'd cower in his shadow, submit to his cuffs the minute he found you. 

but you were not naive - this he learned all too soon. you were unbending, cunning. slippery.

you were- you were a tease. there's no other way to put it: you were a kriffing tease, and it was killing him. you were like the foil to this job; everything but ease. 

you are a shadow in Mos Espa, while Din is a statue in the suns.

you knew he was trailing you all this time, it was obvious. Din didn't necessarily try to hide it at all. this job has never been anything but serious for him - no playing around, no jokes, just business. it was survival, especially now with Grogu; but this delicious game you'd started with him... he hated to admit, it was addictive.

was it when you laid that chase for him through the alleys? or when he'd first caught your wandering eye through the crowd at the market in town?

but then - you'd taken his child away and fear had struck him just as deep as the anger did.

he was a second away from tearing the entire planet apart for his Child when he returned to the Crest, intending on using his navs to source for Grogu-shaped infants nearby to find his son lying in the shade of the underbelly. he'd been concealed from the harsh sun by that very same cloth that'd concealed your head from Din for days. 

it made no sense. 

maybe that's why he liked this chase. it was easier for him to just get a job done and leave, usually - but you were an enigma, a fascination akin to a forbidden fruit lying just out of reach in the middle of a grove.

squeezing from his grasp every time he reached out - until he finally got you. 

"happy hunting?"

and now, this fourth time, the Mandalorian sends you tumbling to the sand had before aiming a blaster straight at your skull.

his voice is deep, seeded with disbelief and irritation; his timbre is finally in a direct address to you, and it's harrowing. his helmet is angled down towards you, one hand stern on his narrow hip as you dare to look around. 

nothing but dirt, sand, heat. a mirage of floating trees in the distance, but no other living being capable of freeing you from your predator.

turning back up to face his looming, commanding figure, you finally, with a groan, accept it. you're all alone here. no friends on this planet besides the tumbleweeds, it seems. 

no matter; here you are - the fourth cataclysm of universes for the two of you, and likely the final. 

and now you lie on your elbows, ass sore from your fall, rug pulled out from under you as sand grits into your arms. 

you squint up against the unforgiving glint that cuts into your retinas, sharp enough to slice you. the sight of the hot suns on the metal is unbearable as it is; imagining the suffering heat beneath the layers on his person is too much to consider.

those suns and his beskar must never have gotten along, you're sure.

he stares down at you in a sear that slices you in two, exposing your heartbeat immediately. he's expectant - happy huntings, he said - he's awaiting your response with a tersely angry stance.

with a blaster down the bridge of your nose.

you - you can't speak. fear drips like a saline bacta-bag through your veins.  

you don't have enough air in your lungs, that much you're sure of - the blaster pointed directly at your heaving chest: your hands shake as you raise them, resigned to your fate as the Mandalorian's broad chest heaves with nearly as much exertion as your own. he takes it as a sign to speak again.

"I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold." 

his words rumble into your chest, writing themselves at the top of your life's story; a new chapter. or an epilogue.

your head falls back in defeat, the suns' rays blistering new blemishes onto the bridge of your nose and your forehead, exposed above the mask.

your groan is of resignation. acceptance. 

that deep voice of his rumbles somewhere deep in your gut, nesting with the fear and the desire to run. run, run, run. 

you don't this time. 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*: next part

taglist. @silkiers @leithatnight @totallynotastanacc @afandomidiot @bbyanarchist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @notsosecretspy

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

[blackkatmagic]

Tarre is so smooth omg

:D

“A weakness, in the True Mandalorian leader? Shocking. I’ll make sure to take full advantage of it.” Granta smiles, stroking the orbak’s sleek face. He catches a flicker of motion, quick, out of the corner of his eye, and looks up.

Up on the wall, leaning against the edge and looking down at them, is the strange Mandalorian, the grey light of the morning making the blue and copper on his armor shine. When he catches Granta's gaze, he lifts a hand, and Granta can just make out his expression, warm and easy. It makes heat twist through his chest, and he raises a hand in return, touching two fingers to his forehead in lazy salute.

“Tack should be over here, if Paru put it where I asked her to,” Myles says, distracted, and Granta turns to follow him as he heads towards the small shed in the corner, then pauses.

He glances up again, halfway expecting the Mandalorian to have vanished in the moment his attention was elsewhere. The man is still standing there, though, still watching him, and when Granta stills in surprise, he smiles, raises his fingers to his lips. Kisses them, deliberate, as he holds Granta's gaze, then flicks his hand out like offering the kiss across the distance between them.

Then he turns and walks away, heading down the wall towards the south tower with steady steps, and Granta feels a little like he takes all the air with him as he goes.

[phoenixyfriend]

Time to react to some fic stuff!

Important note: Natalie Portman is 5'3" (160cm) and Padme's height, according to supplemental material, is 5'5" (165cm).

I could cite global or national height statistics, but nah

[lamaenthel]

Obedience

[read on ao3][masterlist][Febuwhump prompt: obedience]

Jesse tries to hold out against the flaying of his mind, but Darth Maul won't be denied what he wants to know about Ahsoka Tano.

Characters: CT-5597|Jesse, Darth Maul, Original Mandalorian Character Wordcount: 1942

Jesse spat into the sewer water at Maul's feet and fixed him with a glare. "We can go round and round in this circle if you want," he snarled. His blood was still burning from the battle—from the humiliation of being captured—but the commander was safe. As long as Rex kept her from doing something stupid, like trying to come after him, she'd stay that way. "I ain't telling you anything."

"It is not up to you." A shiver went down Jesse's spine at the look in Maul's burning eyes. "Your mind will speak, or it will break." He raised his hand and flexed his fingers; a cold sensation like icewater spread out under Jesse's skin and shocked him. While he twitched, Maul started rifling through his brain like a holodex. Jesse pushed him out with everything he had, falling back on the tricks that his commander and general had taught him in order to resist mental manipulation. Enclose yourself in a box. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. The only thing that exists are those walls. Make them sharp, make them cut whoever reaches in. With every breath in, your walls are fortified. With every breath out, your intruder is repelled.

"Tell me."

Jesse tried to breathe in and fortify, but the Sith's intrusion squeezed his brain like a vice. His eyes rolled back in his head with the effort of trying to breathe and push the bastard away at the same time. He clenched his teeth and shoved to no avail; the weak mental walls he'd erected were effortlessly swept away by an icy red tide.

Maul breathed out the heavy scent of old blood and sulfur inches away from his face. "Who is this Ahsoka Tano?"

Jesse threw his head back and screamed, helplessly pulled under by the Sith's wave. It forced the air from his lungs and left him violently shaking in its wake, memories rising to the surface like a school of dead fish.

"That's our commanding officer? Shabla haran, she's barely out of diapers." Jesse stared at the little Togruta that stood at attention behind General Skywalker, all gangly limbs like a newborn orbak and eyes half the size of her face. Those oversized eyes snapped to his through his visor. His cheeks went hot and he squirmed, suddenly afraid that she could hear helmet comms with those horns of hers.

"We coat them in metal to protect them,” Ahsoka said proudly, removing her headdress for the three troopers to see. Jesse leaned in to get a better look at the iron-coated trophies. “Akul teeth are sharp but break easily. They’re like lampreys, they’ve got something like ten rows of teeth and are constantly regrowing them.”

Jesse punctured the hydropouch with a straw and handed it to Ahsoka. She was still too dizzy to stand. The static burn his stunner bolt had left on her big forehead was getting redder by the second. "I'm sorry, Commander," he said, too ashamed to meet her eyes. She laughed and patted him right on his fresh ink as payback for tagging her.

"Bobi!" Ahsoka piled out of the larty tumbling over her gangly legs, eager to dive into the arms of General Kenobi. She frantically rubbed her head on his weary, ash-smudged face. Jesse raised an eyebrow under his bucket. "Give you ten warra nuts if you call him General Bobi," he whispered over comms, making Kix snort.

Maul growled like a rabid massiff. "She is of his lineage. Of course."

"Kix said you're going to be on bedrest for at least two weeks while your nerves regenerate, so I brought something to keep you from going totally insane." Ahsoka set up the holoprojector at the foot of the medbay cot and slid onto the covers, stretching out beside him like a sleepy tooka. "Ever watched a sholo—erm, a Shilian holovid? Shili makes the best in the galaxy. This one is a series, it was only released off-world a few months ago. It's called Princess For A Year. The premise is a little sketchy, but the reviews are good." She rested her big head on his chest and dimmed the overhead light with a wave of her hand.

"Let me be very clear with you, Ahsoka." Dol Sylen rested his chin on folded hands and fixed the commander with a hungry look. "I am no fool. I'm sure you already have a plan brewing in that pretty head of yours. You're going to play nice, do your best to convince me that you return my affection and try to gain my trust." He fondled Ahsoka's lek. "It's not going to work. You're going to do whatever I want you to do. Not because you like me and want to be obedient, but because if you don't, I'll hit this button—" he held up a small remote, " —and shock your pet until he pisses himself. If I want you to dance, you'll dance. If I want you to bend over this table and let me fuck you, you'll get fucked." Ahsoka inhaled sharply as he yanked hard on her lek. "Or maybe I'll watch your clone fuck you."

Jesse screamed and shoved Maul out of his mind. The Commander's humiliated, tearstained face swam in his vision, her mutilated lek dripping blood, the wild-eyed look of a prey animal that she didn't shake for a full month afterwards… 

"Stop fighting and obey, clone." Maul spat the words like they burned him. "Give me what I seek, or I will return you to your beloved Commander as a drooling husk."

"I'll die before I let you touch her." Jesse spat a thick glob of saliva in the Zabrak's eye and tried to headbutt him. The Mando dalgaan holding him kneed him hard in the spine. He fell to the ground gasping.

"As you wish." Maul's eyes brightened, burning with hatred. "But you will show me what I want to know before you do."

Maul peeled Jesse's brain apart like an onion to get at what was hidden in the meat. His vision went black around the edges as Maul ripped him open with tooth and claw, spitting out the memories like viscera.

Jesse held Ahsoka tight and desperately begged the Force that she trusted so dearly to not let her die. "I think you need a transfusion," he said. She purred weakly and shivered, cold despite the humid heat of Xior-Cal. He helplessly watched another drop of blood leak from the tip of her right lek. She nodded off in his arms for the second time.

He dragged Ahsoka to the ground and started chest compressions. He felt her ribs crack and swallowed down a sob. Kix always said that if they didn't break, you weren't doing it right, but he was still terrified that he was driving shards of bone into her heart.

They'd brought an oversized bed into the halls of healing to accommodate Ahsoka's need for physical touch while she recovered from surgery. Jesse lay at her front while General Skywalker curled around her from behind; he met Jesse's eyes between her montrals and smiled gratefully.

"S-stop…" Jesse said weakly. "You…"

"Quiet." Maul flexed his hand. "Your childish affection for Skywalker is of no importance to me. What happened to this Mandalorian?"

"She killed him." Jesse caught his breath, fixed him with a glare. "She'll do the same to you, demagolka."

"His name was… Sylen. That was your kinsman, Ijaan, was it not?"

The hulking blue Mandalorian behind Maul removed his helmet and smirked at Jesse. "He was."

Jesse snarled at the sight of Dol Sylen's lone surviving clanmate. "Shabuir. Naasade ru'partayli gar."

"Ni'cuy mav. Gar vi'tayc, ara'goten."

Jesse flinched at the slur; stillbirth, the most favored word by the Deathwatch to describe him and his brothers.

"He was the one that suggested you." Maul clenched his fist. "More."

"I thought Appo was joking when he said you adopted that little shabuir, Commander!" Jesse stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders with a pleading look. "Tell me you're joking, Commander." Her big eyes filled up with desperate tears. "I couldn't just leave him in there, Jess!"

"Sentiment." The bastard snorted. "She adopted the brat of your progenitor? How compassionate of her." 

"Get down!" Jesse blasted the first two Weequays in the face, caught the knife of the third and shoved it into his own throat. The fourth got flipped and a gutshot from Tup. Boba plugged the next two that ran in and cried out for help as long, spidery white arms wrapped around him like a flytrap and disappeared behind the tent flap. "Boba!" Jesse cried, stepping forward without seeing the Nikto break off from the three fighting Tup behind him. Scaly fingers yanked his head back and a long knife opened his throat.

"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me." Skywalker held his hands on either side of Jesse's neck. The tissue rapidly closed, forcing Tup's finger out of his artery as it knitted back together with the Force. He sank back once the wound closed with a final tingle, panting and pale. "Aurra Sing," Jesse croaked as soon as he drew enough breath to speak. "It… it was Aurra Sing."

Ahsoka sat with her legs dangling over the side of the catwalk and picked at her cuticles miserably. "I… I love him. I'm in love with him." She closed her eyes and squeezed out a trail of tears. "I am so kriffing in love with that man that it hurts, Jess, and I can never, ever tell him."

"Adorable," Maul said, his voice a sickening coo of mockery. He kept going, shredding Jesse's mind in search of what he sought. He flipped through memories like picturebooks and examined every tiny cranny that Jesse kept his deepest, darkest thoughts in. By the time Maul's hunger for knowledge was finally sated, Jesse could barely kneel upright. He'd pissed himself long ago and tasted vomit, though he didn't remember throwing up. His whole body dripped with sweat. When he looked down, he saw a small puddle of blood. He sniffed and choked on coagulated clots.

Maul finally withdrew his choking, oily presence from Jesse's mind. "Take him away. Ensure he is fed and watered. We do not want our hostage to perish before it is time." 

"Yes, Lord Maul." Ijaan Sylen yanked him to nerveless feet with one massive hand and shoved him forward. "Move it, chakaar."

Jesse stumbled over his clumsy feet. Maul…Maul knew everything. Every memory that Jesse had ever shared with Ahsoka had been sucked up and devoured for analysis, then spit back out with the meat cleaned from the bones. He knew about her Empathy and how her synesthesia turned people's emotions into colored auras. He knew that she left the Order after Barriss Offee had framed her for bombing the Temple and the Council had let her hang. He knew that she had a soft spot for the clones, that she had a deep adoration for General Skywalker and General Kenobi, that she believed in justice and in helping people and doing what was right even if it killed her. 

He knew she was in love with Rex.

He knew everything. Jesse had given Maul everything he needed to know in order to destroy her. He hung his head and wept as he was led away, wondering if it was possible to die of shame.

MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS Shabla haran: fucking hell Demagolka: monster Shabuir. Naasade ru'partayli gar: Motherfucker. Nobody will remember you. Ni'cuy mav. Gar vi'tayc, ara'goten: I'm free. You're a slave, stillbirth. Chakaar: asshole

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @febuwhump, @soliloquy-of-nemo

Divider: @saradika-graphics

[ask-missparker]

A Naboo Dream  | A Star Wars Story AU

Pairing: Nikolai Skywalker x Amelia Colter

Fic Type: Star Wars AU

Extra Characters: Obi Wan, R2D2, The Young Avengers

Setting: The Clone Wars Era

-----

As the twin suns of Naboo cast their warm glow across the lush landscape, Anakin Skywalker's younger brother, Nikolai, arrived on the serene planet. Sent on a mission by the Jedi Council to assist in the protection of Naboo, his senses were heightened as he explored the beautiful surroundings of the royal palace.

Guided by duty, Nikolai wandered through the ornate corridors, his Jedi instincts attuned to any potential threats. It was then that he stumbled upon a captivating sight—a young woman with long, flowing brown hair, gazing wistfully out of a window.

She turned, revealing a delicate face adorned with subtle makeup, her eyes sparkling with an unknown intrigue. A small smile graced her lips as she nodded in acknowledgment of Nikolai  presence, leaving him momentarily spellbound.

But his training kicked in, his guard remaining vigilant as he continued his scouting mission. Throughout the day, he found himself crossing paths with the mysterious young woman, always at the periphery of his vision.

In the stables, she tended to gentle creatures with grace and compassion. In the garden, she sat among the vibrant blooms, a vision of serenity. And later, in the bustling mess hall, their paths crossed once more, her presence like a whisper in the Force.

With each encounter, Nikolai curiosity grew, drawn to this enigmatic figure who seemed to be everywhere yet remained shrouded in mystery. Little did he know, their fateful meeting would set into motion a tale of destiny and devotion in a galaxy far, far away.

———

As chaos unfolded in the marketplace, he found himself in the midst of a pursuit, his lightsaber drawn as he chased after the thieves. Through the bustling crowd and into the verdant expanse of the forest, his senses honed in on the task at hand.

Amidst the flurry of activity, he spotted an Orbak galloping wildly, its rider desperately trying to regain control. Without hesitation, Nikolai  sprang into action, using the Force to guide him towards the chaotic scene.

With swift movements, he managed to calm the rampaging creature, his eyes meeting those of its rider—a familiar face from his past. It was her, the mysterious woman from Tatooine, now revealed in her true form, her natural beauty shining through.

Memories flooded back as they locked eyes, recalling their chance encounter years ago amidst the sands of Tatooine. She had been one of the decoys, dressed in vibrant hues of orange and white, leaving him with a bracelet as a token of their brief encounter.

Now, in this moment of shared danger, she offered him a ring from her home planet of Naboo, a gesture of gratitude for his assistance. Yet, their exchange was interrupted by the Orbak's restless movements, reminding them of the urgency of the situation.

With a gentle smile, he addressed her, his voice calm amidst the chaos. The two stood together amidst the lush forest of Naboo, their destinies intertwined once more in the vast tapestry of the Force.

"Are you alright, miss?" he asked, with  concern genuine. 

“I’m alright but you nearly tighten the life out of him.” She responded. 

“Who?” 

“The creature your friends were chasing. What has he ever done to you that you must chase him about?”

He chuckled at that, petting the Orbak she rode on as he said, “I must confess, I never met him before. A friend of yours?”

“No.” She replied chuckling, pushing hair out of her face, “Most creates the ideals of Naboo as a noble place, and so is it’s creature who stole from the market.”

“Stealing is wrong.”

“Not when they’re not given the amount to pay for their food.”

“Ah, I see. Fair by all means then. Miss, what do they call you?”

As she smiled her cheekbones lit up like the stars at night. 

She hummed for a moment, “You really don’t know?”

“That’s why I asked.” He responded with a blushing smile.

“Amelia..Amelia, that’s all you’ll get.”

“Lovely name. You shouldn’t be this deep in the forest alone.”

“I’m not alone, I’m with you. Mrs..I mean, Jedi.”

“You don’t remember?”

“I do.”

“So why you ask such a question?”

“To play the fool and get your answer.”

Years ago on the sandy lands, they would play as the older Jedi and driods would roll around talking. He was helping his older brother in a speed race in Tatooine, in hopes to win, as she accompany her older sisters as one of decoy queens to see the people there. 

“My, have you grown.” She asked with a giggle. 

“Ahh so you do remember, Mia.” He added with a wink.

“Hush, not so loud. I’m supposed to be working. I see you were working too.”

“Define work.”

“Hilarious.”

“I was entrusted to watch over Naboo grounds for a while. Keep the crown space from any spice runners who would sell it for parts.”

“I see you brought R2 with you.”

Nikolai turned around confused for a moment, as he then saw the white and blue driod rolling up to them in concern beeps asking where they headed of to. Nikolai muttered how he was fine and go tell Obi Wan that things will be alright. However R2 beeps otherwise that he rather stay.

“Does he treat you fair R2?” She asked the driod with a teasing tone.

He beeps twice.

“Oh really? You need some rest then.”

He beep again.

“He thinks about me and visiting the 7 wonders of the galaxy.”

Nikolai gasped and scoffed, “I never once said that! On the contrary, you must been thinking about me, if you remember my driod so well.”

She giggled and huffed a breathe, “I won’t confirm or deny it, my lord.”

“Cheeky respond for a princess.”

“And one for a Jedi.”

He nods with a lovely smile, “Clever. Very clever. I am a fine Jedi if you ask anyone.”

“One full of pride if you ask me.” She added giggling some more.

“You think you’re funny.”

“I think I’m honest. Meanwhile your a cheeky little solider”

“I beg your pardon?”

Despite what he said, he couldn’t help but laugh as a smile spread on his face. He shook his head having not felt this way in a while. Without a second later, he offered to lead the way back to the castle as their banter contain between them. 

As they contained their laughter to themselves, quiet blushing banter and witty comments that was upmost challenging, one can’t deny the chemistry  between the pair.

A Jedi & A Princess. 

Oh dear tiff..

…he shot up awaken from the sounds of the TV. The volume was high and guns were blasting, as the Jedis and Sith fought against one another on screen. He realized he was back in the living room, with tossed hair, a blanket over his body and a tray of popcorn over his lap. 

It was a dream. Or was it?

He looked over to see Arrow, his dog, on the ground playing with his chew toy, being a Falcon plushie. Liane was half paying attention as she was texting, Cole and Jeremy were cuddling on the couch next to him. Ethan on the ground eating some chips. Rochelle was half asleep on Michelle’s lap as the blonde girl was talking over the movie.

Nikolai then allowed himself to take a breath, rubbing his eyes and sighed. He remembered he was watching Star Wars with the gang. He wondered where the rest of the gang was. He assumed in the kitchen, as he excuse himself to grab some water and head over to the kitchen. There he found Rick and Luna chilling, eating extra slices of pizza. Finlay and Rose chatting about something. 

But Mia was no where to be found. 

He headed to the hallway only to have a pair of brown-green eyes bump into his chest. He heard her high pitched ‘Oof!’ As he looked down to meet his love’s face who pushed her glasses upwards, she watched him with a small dazes, as if she can tell he was thinking.

“What happened?” She asked.

At the same time he asked, “Where did you go?”

The two chuckled awkwardly at the exchanged. 

“I went to use the bathroom and then checked on the kids in the other room. Rochelle’s twins were fighting over a toy, Riley was dancing to Frozen, meanwhile Joshua was in his playpen watching the Tv and playing with his toy starfish.” She explained with a shrug smiling.

“Yikes! I hope things went alright.” He repiled chuckling, thinking he should take the next round on check in on the kids afterwards.

“Yeah, I handled it. What’s on your mind?”

“I had a dream.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s silly really.”

“Baby, come on, I wanna hear about it.”

“Okay fine, just know, it felt so real.”

He took her hand, leading the girl to the living room telling her about his Star Wars theme dream. He even mentioned how he wanted to be Anakin and Padme next halloween as she laughed nodding.

------

—> Thanks for reading. That’s what I got! Comment down below with ideas and reblog your thoughts 

Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel  @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @cherrysft @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh @sherloquestea and etc

[sinisterexaggerator]

Tech and Hondo Ohnaka ( Part 2 )

Rated: Teen and up (a rare general audiences fic on my part.)

Warning: Violence, death, injury, all comparable to what we see in The Bad Batch, pain mention, broken bones mention, attack by a wild animal, blaster fire.

Fic Summary: Tech is plummeting toward death, yet he is spared, all thanks to a Weequay pirate who was simply in the wrong place at the right time, depending.

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: This is a kind of crack / AU scenario. I like the idea of Hondo being the one to encounter Tech after his fall. The idea was definitely inspired my Phee's line at the end of season 2: "Well, don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers while you're gone,." :) Don't take this too seriously, though at the same time I tried to make it plausible. The main point of this was to have fun with Tech and Hondo ribbing each other in their own way. I love both of these characters, and I am excited to see what you guys think.

Chapter 1 | Read on Ao3

“Could you keep et down?”

“I have not said anything.”

“You are breathing much tuu loudly.”

“I cannot help it,” Tech argued. It was true, his breathing was labored. Though they had taken their time, the trip was slow-going, and his broken ribs were making it difficult for him to absorb lungfuls of oxygen.

“Perhaps… ef you took dat helmet off,” Hondo suggested, “den et would not be like listening tu an orbak chuffing en my ear.”

“Then I would not be able to see,” Tech reminded him, adjusting the weight of his pack. It felt heavier than normal. He was sure it was because he needed rest though now was an inopportune time.

“And you du see dat overgrown tooka, yes? De big blue one de size of a landspeeder who es currently feasting on de carcass of some nasty, six-legged vermin?”

Tech could not understand why he would ask this question. “I was the one to point it out when I saw it on my thermal readout,” he was quick to answer, the Weequay’s eyes constricting into two tight diagonal lines.

“Den you should know he will be able tu hear you!” Hondo emphasized, the feline in question at once perking up its ears.

Tech already did not appreciate the pirate’s boisterous personality, despite having dealt with so many others like him in the past. The clone’s brow creased beneath his visor as he lowered his voice to a whisper, all too aware of the current situation they had found themselves in. “Then perhaps you should be following your own advice,” Tech shot back evenly.

Hondo grumbled a closed-mouth complaint, turning his head slowly back toward the apex predator, sizing up their options as it was currently blocking their forward path. “We must find a way tu skirt past dis furry monstrosity; he es en our way,” Hondo stated, Tech assuming that had been quite obvious from the start.

“The best course of action may be to wait it out. Once the animal has consumed enough sustenance to—”

Tech paused, jerking back as Hondo rounded to face him. They were stationed on the ground, camouflaged behind a fallen tree trunk and copious amounts of shrubbery and grass. “What is it?” he questioned brusquely.

Evolving under rather merciless conditions, Weequay were adept at many things to ensure survival, one being the ability to detect sounds that were of a suspicious origin (should they quiet down long enough to listen in Hondo’s case). While most of his species communicated silently through the use of pheromones, Hondo preferred spoken language, yet even he knew when it was time to take things a little more seriously; he had not survived this long by being stupid.

“Footsteps,” he muttered, voice deeply resonate. “Et appears we du not have time tu, how you say, ‘wait et out.’”

Tech repositioned himself just enough to glance back over his shoulder, catching the outline of something warm, and alive. Many somethings, as it was another squad of TK troopers hot on their trail.

“They have yet to spot us,” Tech informed him, realizing they were now sandwiched between a deadly carnivore and half a dozen soldiers who were hellbent on finding and most likely killing them, if not something far worse than that; being a prisoner of war was not something Tech was looking forward to, nor was being shredded to bits in the jaws of a ferocious beast.

“Let us make haste! De mining facility es tu de northeast of here—"

“—I do not think we should make any sudden movements. It is best to give the feline a wide berth, as we do not know if—”

“—I du not intend tu die tuday, so unless you wish for me tu leave you behind,”  Hondo gave him a sidelong look, “you will follow closely, hm?”

Tech did not have time to offer anything more in the way of protest, watching as the pirate crept to the edge of their hiding place. Ohnaka stood halfway, keeping low to the ground, advancing in the direction of a more heavily wooded area.

Tech sighed, exasperated by the whole ordeal, and still in quite a lot of pain; it felt as if his entire being had been run over with a HAVw A6 Juggernaut turbo tank, yet he was not a quitter. He would keep pushing forward until his body decided to give out, whenever that might be.

He followed the Weequay’s heat signature; it ran hot in comparison to other species, much like his own, Hondo’s outline burning brightly through the cracks in his head-up display, not to mention his gaudy red coat would easily give him away. Tech wondered why he did not dispose of it if he was so worried about being found. It would be like wearing a large bullseye across your back -  very conspicuous.

For a moment, Tech thought they might be in the clear, both men having made it to the edge of the tree line, the clone unable to help glancing behind himself at intervals. He only realized something was amiss once he had turned back around, hearing the pirate speak, and not to him.

“Uh—hello,” Hondo said dumbly, Tech’s eyes widening at the appearance of a lone TK, his blaster poised and ready to shoot, though for the moment he seemed to be caught off guard just as much as they had been, the trooper not moving a muscle for several precious seconds.

Then, he called for help to his squad mates, or attempted to, via his comm; his transmission was cut short as Tech himself took the soldier out. Hondo watched as his armored form hit the forest floor like a sack of Corellian potatoes with a dull and lifeless thud, the Weequay speaking in low notes with a hint of indifference lacing his voice. “Eh… so much for stealth,” he shrugged.

Tech whisked back around, knowing his comrades would soon be on their way. It did not take long for bolts of plasma to scorch the trunks of trees surrounding them, thankfully these new troopers being unable to aim properly to save their lives.

“Iiiiii am not sure ef we should fight dem,” Hondo interjected between the pew pew sounds of laser fire, Tech having held his ground until this point, both men zigzagging between obstacles to find much needed cover.

“Please, explain what you think we should do,” Tech sardonically retorted, both of his DC-17’s withdrawn from their holsters as he prepared to engage the enemy.

“I tink we should wait for—”

At that very moment, the colossal, azure feline had been roused from its meal, considering these newcomers a threat to its territory and to the kill it had worked so hard to slay. Blaster fire only seemed to irritate it further, as the white-clad soldier’s attention had been diverted from the pursual of their quarry to the idea of staying alive.

“—dat,” Hondo finally finished.

Screams echoed through the forest as teeth and claw bore into plastoid, easily penetrating the TK’s armor as if it was nothing more than flimsiplast. Blood spurted as limbs were shredded and torn apart, the angry beast leaving a trail of viscera in its wake. Tech stood stock-still, riveted by the scene before him. “Fascinating,” he admitted beneath his breath.

“Now we go, ah?” Hondo asked, shooting Tech a quizzical look infused with mild disgust. He was not sure what he found so “fascinating,” and Tech’s only regret was not having his recording device at the ready to immortalize the ferocious, guttural sounds the beast was making as it mowed through nearly a dozen men.

Tech only snapped to attention when Hondo rapped his knuckles on the outside of his helmet. “Wake up en dere!” he growled, at once beginning his journey in the opposite direction, the one that was now a straight shot toward the general area of the lommite mine, Tech surmised, and he was content to follow, as he did not want to be next on the menu should the feline tire of its current entertainment.

“So nice of you tu join m—” Hondo stopped short, another TK Trooper having dropped before them from his hiding spot in the trees, blaster rifle held high and a smug tone permeating his voice as he gave his demands.

“Drop your weapons, and put your hands in the air!”

Both men glanced to one another, this being a rather unfortunate turn of events. Tech obeyed, but Hondo knew better; he had never withdrawn any in the first place. His lip curved just slightly; he could hear a rustling sound coming from a patch of nearby brush.

“My friend, we are de least of your worries,” Hondo relayed dryly. “I would put dat blaster away, ef you value your life, hm?”

Tech’s eyes darted as he registered the thermal readout of the very large feline stalking their way, calculating the odds of their survival mentally, which presently did not appear to be very good.

“Shut your mouth, Quay, and get on the ground!”

“Ef you insist,” Hondo replied, the pirate taking his time in bending first one leg, and then the other, his knees dropping onto the soft dirt below as if kneeling in prayer.

“You too, traitor,” the TK snapped, his blaster aimed loosely at Tech as the clone was forced to abide this man’s orders. He lowered himself beside Hondo, keeping his eyes trained not on the weapon’s barrel, but on the animal that was slowly creeping forward toward the unsuspecting soldier. He thought to warn him, but what would be the point? To face death head-on was not a privilege afforded to all. Sometimes, it was a surprise.

“Hands behind your head,” he barked. His “prisoners” obliged, the TK calling for assitance on his comm. “Found the terrorists a kilometer down from the mine, requesting back up.”

“Terrorists?” Hondo thought, meaning to give the man a piece of his mind. Even so, Hondo was privy to something he was not, keeping his mouth closed - if only just this once - as hypnotizing, unnatural yellow eyes shone like two bright suns just behind the soldier’s helmet. The head of the overgrown took’, not to mention its fangs, were both wider and longer than his head and arms. It was as if he was this man’s big, blue shadow, sooo massive in fact, it captured his attention; the sky had appeared to darken as if anticipating a rainstorm, the trooper looking up.

“Huh?” was all he managed to say, the TK’s head tilting for a better vantage just as the fanged maw of the creature enclosed around his throat. There was a terrible crunching sound as the ginormous cat severed through cartilage and bone as if they were nothing more than twigs, leaving both men to stare on in revulsion and awe as his body fell to the ground at their knees.

Hondo could feel Tech itching to rise and fight. Or. Perhaps to flee. “Du not. Move,” he instructed.

Tech decided to listen. He remained still. He was not sure why he had opted to trust the pirate on this matter, but he knew he would not be able to outrun the beast regardless. In other words, what did he have to lose besides his life? It was a kind of running joke at this point, he mused.

Hondo bothered to follow his own advice this time; he kept calm and motionless, even as the feline raised its eyes to look squarely at them. Blood dripped from its elongated eyeteeth like water drops from a leaky faucet, the formidable lifeform beginning to slowly prowl in their direction.

Tech took a breath to speak. Hondo interrupted him.

“Stand your ground. Du not panic, and du not run. Retreat only when I give de signal.”

Tech wanted to ask what the signal was, or explain that tactics that may work on one member of the Felidae family did not necessarily mean they could be employed against every feline they encountered. Still, Tech did not have experience with this particular species and wished to know more about them; perhaps Hondo had dealt with this kind of predator before. It was a shame that his equipment had been so badly damaged as to cease functioning properly, otherwise he may have been of some use.

A low growl emanated from the beast; Tech centered himself and relaxed. If it was his time to die, so be it, though he had not died yet when he had been almost positive he was going to only hours before.

Hondo lowered his head and stared at the creature’s feet; he made note he was so very fluffy, and if he was not so sure that he would get his face torn clean off for doing so, he may have been tempted to stroke its fur.

The cat bared its fangs; it roared only inches away. The wave of hot, stinky breath that followed did not impress Tech, though the Weequay beside him made a point to wrinkle his ridged nose.

Then, its attention turned solely to Hondo. Its snout was close enough to kiss. Hondo lazily lifted his head, the feline snorting out a blast so powerful, it sent one of Weequay’s braids behind his shoulder.

Hondo spoke; his voice was low and soothing. If he was at all afraid, he did not make it known, Tech observed, though he kept his eyes averted toward the wildcat’s legs. “We can be friends… yes?” he whispered huskily.

The behemoth stuck its nose against the Weequay, inhaling sharply to sniff Hondo as if he was a flower growing in some tranquil meadow, not a pirate in a crimson coat. Then the creature nuzzled his oversized head into the crook of Hondo’s jowls just below his frills, its broad, rough tongue brandishing itself to lick a stripe that would inevitably saturate his entire face.

Hondo laughed, a throaty chuckle indicative of something a little more than amusement. It was as if he knew to expect this all along.

“Dat’s right, what a sweet beast you are,” Ohnaka crooned as if talking to a lover, or a child, the pirate having spent many long hours in the fellowship of creatures both great and small, loving each one individually not for what they could do for him, but because, in most cases, animals were far better company than man.

For one, they did not double-cross him. Usually.

Tech thought the creature was giving Hondo a taste before deciding on whether or not to make him a second course, but to his surprise the feline began to produce a sound that was not unlike a purr from the bowels of its throat, it being somewhat reminiscent of the activation of ion engines set to embark on a journey through time and space.

The muscular mammal nearly knocked Ohnaka backward, so strong was the headbutt it administered against the Weequay’s Desevrar Infantry helmet that Hondo teetered on his knees, but managed to keep his place. Then, he did what he had wanted to do without fear of repercussion, placing one striated hand along the feline’s muzzle in a gentle pat. “Such a good boy,” he offered in the way of praise.

Tech was baffled; this was not something he was accustomed to. He had only witnessed Jedi commune with animals. This had occurred once during his time in the field under the leadership of the Republic, and never quite like this.

The scoundrel stood, and the cat allowed it. Hondo had the audacity to scratch it beneath its chin. “Ah, but you remind me of someone else blue with sharp teeth, hm? All hiss and no hunting us, yes?” he asked, as if the thing could speak its mind, and he would be able to understand its meaning.

The fuzzy leviathan seem to agree, circling the pirate to wrap its tail about his waist before releasing him and nudging Tech against his shoulder. Tech withheld a gasp, his body aching, and while the feline seemed not liable to attack them, he would not bother to stand quite yet.

His pack was most definitely weighing him down, Tech feeling as if one hundred duracrete bricks resided inside. He kept his nearly useless eyes fixated on the dead and drying leaves of the forest floor, Hondo speaking to the clone as if he was much more self-assured.

“Animals, beasts, de wily creatures of de forest, dhey love me,” he boasted. “I treat dem with kindness and respect, and dheyyy du not eat me. Isn’t dat right, blue one?” he inquired to the affectionate feline.

Then, the creature’s ears twitched, and his stark, golden eyes narrowed. Hondo withdrew his hand and cocked his head, turning toward the direction the feline was now focused on and asking it another question, never having received an answer to his first. “What es et, my darling? Du you hear someting?”

The varied shades of blue fur along its back bristled; the differences in its coloration formed alternating stripes like waves in a vast ocean. Tech could not help it— he held his breath. The king of Eriadu’s jungle quickly leapt away to disappear amongst the foliage, the distant sound of men screaming echoing through the otherwise peaceful woods.

“Our cue tu leave, no?”

“Affirmative,” was the only thing Tech could think to say, rising to his feet, albeit with great difficulty. He decided not to question the Weeuquay, or his ability to commune with the native fauna. This man was proving to be odd by all definitions of the word, his prowess for taming wild carnivores only one of his unusual traits, Tech suspected.

Tech’s thoughts were interrupted by an ache in his chest as he had bent to gather his blasters; he could not remember ever feeling so exhausted, nor could he recall a time when he had found it this laborius to breathe. Ambulating slowly forward, Hondo once more took the lead, Tech wondering what Phee might say should she learn that he had coincidentally, “run off with pirates.”

--

Unknown feline attacking a young Tarkin:

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 3 - Post #3: From Thuli's Anthology, Thrilling Tales of Emergency Medicine

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem Reader

Total word count: 7K (of 45K total in Volume 3)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

______________________________________________

Flashback…

III. So cold. That’s your first thought upon waking. Shivering and curled into a ball, you pull Mando’s cloak over your head and tuck your frozen hands under your chin. The heat from his body still clung to the woolen fabric, so you give yourself a moment to languish in its warmth.

How long have you been asleep? Riding through the night had been exhausting. When Mando finally stopped to tend the animals, you only meant to give your eyes a rest. Your face feels damp, and the tip of your nose is completely numb.

When you finally open your eyes, the world around you is so startling you immediately sit up.

The ground is covered in a thin blanket of snow with only a few dark patches of dirt visible. The air is still, frozen into silence. How had you slept through this?

The next thing you notice is that you're entirely alone. Mando is gone. As are the baby and the orbaks. You wrap the cloak around your shoulders and lean forward to stoke the fire back to life, trying not to let your nerves get the better of you. Maybe he’s just taken the animals to graze?

Or maybe he’d left you here, out in the middle of nowhere, to die of exposure, never to awaken. Something about the silence of fresh snowfall makes the sudden solitude more unnerving. At least this way, the kids wouldn’t find your body... 

Stop that! You’re being hysterical. 

The Mandalorian wouldn’t have given you his cloak if he wanted you to freeze to death. He must have tucked it around you after you fell asleep. Which is really sweet, incidentally.

Hopefully, you hadn’t snored, or drooled, or done something otherwise repulsive. 

You search the edges of the campfire, but the saddlebags are missing, too.

Now, you do start to panic. Would Mando really leave you here without food or water? When would he return? Ugh, this does nothing to dissuade you from the ‘death by exposure’ theory.

Growing frantic, you try to melt some snow in your hands but get a mouthful of mud instead. He gave very strict instructions never to wander off without permission—but Mandalorian be damned—you are so fucking thirsty. And he wasn't here to make concessions.

You hear the gentle current of running water coming from somewhere nearby, beyond the copse of trees. If he isn’t back by the time you return…

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you awoke in a strange place abandoned by a man you shouldn’t have trusted. 

As you walk deeper into the coppice, the sounds of birdsong pick up. The tall trees dapple the light piercing through the cloudy morning sky, their needles holding onto soft clusters of crisp snow.

A thin layer of ice covers the edges of the rushing stream. You break it easily with a rock and crouch low to cup the frigid water between your palms. It's so cold your teeth ache. Ignoring the sharp pain, you force down a few more mouthfuls and splash the rest onto your face—when a flash of light draws your attention. 

It’s Mando.

The pale light of dawn glints off his Beskar. He’s not too far downstream but hasn’t seen you yet, standing between the orbaks. The child crouches at his feet, watching the animals drink from the current. You catch yourself staring at the bounty hunter while he strokes one of the creature’s shaggy coats, giving its nose an affectionate rub.

“Let’s get riding again,” Mando says commandingly—not in your direction but loud enough for you to hear. 

A little embarrassed, you remind yourself that you didn’t intend to hide from him in the first place. 

Splashing the ice-cold water onto your face while invigorating turns out to be a terrible idea. Your damp hair trails frozen droplets down the back of your neck. By the time you walk back to the fire, your whole body is shivering.  

“Don’t wander off again,” the Mandalorian says firmly, his words roughened by the modulator.

“I’m sorry,” your voice trembles, though whether from fear or the cold isn’t clear.

He steps toward you and pulls the cloak tighter around you, placing his hands on your arms to rub them up and down, trying to work some warmth back into them. Too stunned to breathe, your arms tingle as if they’d been asleep and were only now, fully awakening. 

“Why'd you let me sleep so long?” you ask, looking up into his view plate. Somehow, you always forget how tall he is until he stands this close. There’s about a handsbreadth between you with your head lifted to speak to him.

“Seemed a shame to wake you.”

“Here,” you begin, untangling yourself from his cloak. “You must want this back.”

He shakes his head, “You’re cold.”

You remind yourself not to read too much into his kindness. He’s kind to the animals, as well.

Under Mando’s observant gaze, you become all thumbs, and securing your satchel behind the saddle takes longer than it should. You begin to mount, and he’s at your side immediately, helping to hoist you up. 

When he places both hands on your hips, you have to bite back a gasp of surprise as the warmth from his fingers seeps through his gloves, beyond the fabric of your clothes, and down to your bones, driving away the lingering chill.

You mumble your thanks while he cinches the girth. 

“Raise your knees higher.” 

“Like this?” you pull your legs up closer to your chest.

“Good. Now stand up in your stirrups.” Mando’s hand cups the back of your thigh, lightly grasping your hamstring. “Try to loosen up,” he adds. “You need to be relaxed.”

Easier said than done with his hand still on your thigh. It's not the first time his touch has lingered a bit too long.

Nevertheless, he is right. You attempt to relax, knowing from experience that the most comfortable way to ride is to let your body follow the animal’s movements, leaving your hips loose to sway instead of bouncing all over the place. 

A lewd, half-formed joke springs to mind with all these thoughts of bouncing knees and loose hips as you watch Mando confidently pull himself into his saddle, the thick canvas of his flight suit outlining his fantastically sculpted ass. 

“Thank you for agreeing to do this,” he says, pulling up his reins. The Child is carefully tucked into a sling across the Mandalorian’s chest. 

“Of course,” you nod. "Will your quarry be dangerous?” Bringing the baby with you seemed an odd choice.

“No,” his usually ambivalent voice is full of some emotion you can’t quite place. “Because I would never let anything happen to you.”

While staring at him, you catch sight of the sword at his waist. The rifle strapped to his back gleams in the early morning sunlight. Despite the distressing things you occasionally had to witness, he's good protection. It was the right decision to stay.

“I need you to ride hard from here on out.”

Protection, you remind yourself. This arrangement is about protection. Gods in heaven, stop thinking about riding his dick like a pony!

Keeping up a brisk pace, you travel on in silence. Apart from the granite peaks and forest,  there’s little to distract your thoughts from circling back to the Mandalorian. You're painfully aware of him galloping in front of you, solid and commanding. No matter where you steer your mind or gaze, they both come back to him.

By late afternoon, your legs are aching. You twist in your saddle to stretch the cramping muscles in your lower back and pull his cloak tighter. Surely you must be getting close by now? You kick your heels, trying to make up the distance between you and the Mandalorian so you can ask him.

Annoyed by its inexpert rider, your orbak nips at your foot before jogging forward irritably.

"Hey!" you shout, surprised at the shock of pain. "That's was my toe."

“You okay?” Mando asks, amused as you canter past him while the baby coos excitedly. 

You curse and yank back on the reins, pulling your orbak into a walk. It ducks its head, but you lift your knee this time before he can bite you again. “Dammit, I'm just—”

You're suddenly struck dumb, eyes drawn toward a dark shape hovering above the treeline behind you. “Um, Mando…is that a starship with wings flying toward us?”

The bounty hunter whirls around in his saddle and pulls to a stop beside you. “I don’t think it’s seen us yet, but…” his voice sounds worried, taking in your surroundings. “Osik! No place to hide.”

“Hide?” you ask, lowering your voice when Mando's helmet turns sharply to glare at you. 

“It’s a Kalidor,” he says. “They’ll eat anything they find.”

“Uh, like us?”

You groan when he nods. 

Mando carefully slides his rifle into both hands, lining up the scope as he watches the Kalidor circle the forest. “I think it’s found our campfire. Should have buried it.”

“Is that bad?”

“It'll have your scent now.”

"My—" Fuck! You had just wanted a minute to rest your eyes.

Mando juts his chin toward a thickly forested canyon between the mountains ahead. “We need to reach those trees. The gorge is too steep for an attack.”

You glance up at the creature—then at the tree line. “Can we make it?”

Mando removes the sling from his chest and thrusts the baby into your arms. Puzzled, you watch as he secures the sword to his waist. He tugs the reins from your hands to pull your orbak alongside him. 

“Listen to me,” he says, taking your face in his leather palm. "You will make it to the canyon. Stay low and hold on. Don’t look back, and don’t stop, no matter what you hear.”

"What I—?"

But when he urges both animals into a trot, you have to divert your attention to staying in the saddle.

"Mando," you swallow, heart in your throat. “What about you?”

He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about me.”

Before you can protest, the Mandalorian smacks your orbak’s rump hard with his gauntlet. The animal whinnies in pain but immediately bolts into a gallop.

You throw yourself forward, one hand clutching the Child to your chest and the other fisting in the orbak’s thick mane. It takes every bit of self-control not to scream. Your body bounces wildly. You tighten your legs, hoping you won't be thrown off. 

Then, cry pierces the air, so high-pitched you go temporarily deaf.

You look up from the orbak’s mane, but the forest doesn’t appear to be any closer. Its hooves beat against the icy ground, panting and frothing beneath its bridle. Where's Mando heading?

Another screeching cry wrents the sky, and you can't help yourself. Worried about the bounty hunter, you ignore his warning and glance back.

Kriffing hell! The Kalidor flies with enormous wings covered with green shimmering feathers. It had the head of a great bird of prey, its cruel pointed beak ready to pierce and tear. But its lower body was that of a cat, black furred tail flicking in time with the beat of its wings. It looked big enough to swallow you whole, and it was closing in, claws raised.

You can only pray. Goddess, I beg you, please, I don’t want to die being digested in the stomach of this monstrous beast.

Suddenly Mando veers into sight behind you, damn near standing in his stirrups while his orbak gallops onward. Turning to face the beast, the Mandalorian takes aim with the rifle and hits the creature between the eyes. At least a dozen more blasts pepper its body, but that didn’t slow it down in the slightest. 

Then, the Kalidor dove for the Mandalorian, the massive yellowing claws of its hind legs outstretched.

“Mando!” you scream as the bounty hunter makes a sharp turn. The Kalidor follows. Its hunt for you is entirely forgotten as it chases down the glinting Mandalorian, who antagonizes the beast with volley after volley of rifle fire.

It's extraordinary that Mando could still land his shots while the orbak ran full-tilt underneath him—like the hero from some epic poem.

As soon as you reach the tree line, you yank hard on the reins to slow down your racing back, reluctantly turning it to face the clearing. It rears, almost throwing you, but you hold on.

There’s little chance he could hear you over the enraged shrieking, but you can’t help but shout, “Mando! Mando, we made it!”

It was a brave and valiant diversion, but he would get himself killed if he didn't get cover soon.

Mando shoots the creature once more, landing a shot to the neck before tossing his rifle to the ground. Instead, he cradles the sword to his chest with one arm and pulls himself into a crouching position on top of the saddle. 

The Kalidor cries out in triumph as it closes in on the Mandalorian, its claws reaching.

“No!” you scream as the Kalidor snatches them both up as easily as an owl might seize a field mouse. It rose in the air, Mando’s mount kicking and whinnying frantically in a panic.  

The beast soars away, clutching Mando between its claws. Then, it tosses the Mandalorian and his orbak high into the air, opening its beak wide.

The moment between seeing Mando thrown into free fall and seeing him disappear down the Kalidor’s throat seemed to last an eternity, like a knife slowly twisting in your chest. 

You search the sky, expecting him to reappear. This is Mando. He’d told you not to worry. That meant he had a plan.

But he didn’t reappear.

You watch as the Kalidor flies away, silhouetted against the mountains, while silent tears spill down your cheeks. The baby cries, twisting in your arms to escape from the sling. "I—I'm—" you stammer, looking into his soft brown eyes, alight with confusion. "I'm so sorry. Mando—"

The Kalidor hadn’t gone far before it suddenly dropped from the sky, frantically flapping its wings. Abruptly, it let out a screech before somersaulting through the air until it crashed to the frozen ground.

The force of the distant impact shudders like a planetary quake, making the baby jump in your arms.

The knife twisting in your chest rips your heart to pieces. Nothing could survive a fall like that.

“Come on!” you shout, kicking until your mount trots forward towards the Kalidor's body.

You steel yourself for what you might see, looking away from the eviscerated remains of Mando’s dead orbak. Your own animal trembles and stomps, balking at your insistent kicking.

You circle the monstrous beast, its claws twice the size of your orbak, but the bounty hunter is nowhere to be seen. You choke back a sob. Had it really eaten him?

You catch sight of the Kalidor’s bent head, blood pouring from its beak.

That's when its neck twitches.

You jump, and your orbak rears up. You pull the Child closer and tighten your grip on the reins, ready to flee.

Then the neck twitches again—no, bulges like something is inside. Mando?

You slip down from the saddle, placing the child on the ground beside you. Stepping closer with your knife to carve him free, you see a blade emerge from inside the Kalidor’s throat, cutting a long vertical gash before the Mandalorian is washed out in a wave of viscera, falling onto his knees.

“Mando!” You run to kneel beside him, throwing your arms around his neck, the Kalidor’s hot blood soaking through your clothes.

“I—” he scoops a gob of dark blood from beneath his chin and flings it onto the ground before shaking free of your grasp. “Water,” he rasps, climbing heavily to his feet. “I need water.”

You look around. Your mount had run off. The ground is covered in wet snow, but you have nothing to melt it with except your hands. Maybe the waterskin is still strapped to the body of his dead orbak?

You stand up to search for it when Mando falls to his hands and knees. 

“Mando!” you tear off your gloves and reach for him. 

“Don’t touch me,” he protests. "My armor—"

The Mandalorian digs his fingers into the icy dirt and releases an agonizing roar. You creep closer despite his warning, aching to do something when a deep shudder racks his body. 

“I need to heal you.”

“No—” he slaps your hand away. 

“I’m not going to watch you die!”

Mando clutches at his side before you can reach for him again, groaning through gritted teeth.

“You’ll take care of them?” he looks over to the Child, his voice a mixture of fear and sadness. 

You nod furiously, “Of course, but—”

“I’m sorry,” he had no sooner apologized than his entire body collapses to the ground.

“Mando!” You crouch beside him, instincts kicking in. “Mando, talk to me!” you beg, but he’s limp in your arms.

The Child totters toward you and sprawls onto the Mandalorian’s chest, nestling between his neck and chest plate as though listening for a heartbeat. How would you explain this to him…

Should you waste urgent time searching for a med-pack amongst the Kalidor’s guts or go running after your orbak, all to avoid touching him…

Touch is all you have right now—in this moment—to save him. You pull out his knife and cut a small tear in his flight suit. The Child watches you intently as you press your trembling hand against his skin directly above his heart. 

You close your eyes, focusing entirely on Mando. His liver had ruptured, and the internal bleeding was sending his body into hemorrhagic shock. You work on sealing off the broken tissue to stop the bleeding while keeping his blood pressure stable. 

And then the first memory flashes before your eyes. A lush green meadow, a brilliant blue sky, and a beautiful woman with dark eyes and black hair. She's holding out a juicy, ripe berry for you, “Look, Djarin—”

You shake your head, dispelling the memory. You need to remain focused. 

But it's too late. The darkness behind your eyes is swept away again, replaced by a ruined city...battle droids everywhere.

You blink away the horrifying image and bend down closer to place both hands over his chest. You just need a little more time.

A deep throbbing beats against the base of your skull. You’re using every ounce of concentration to work as quickly as his body would allow. You ignore the pain and shake off a wave of dizziness. You feel his heartbeat growing stronger beneath your fingertips.

When his pulse returns to normal, and you feel confident the clotting won’t compress his liver, you lie down next to him, splayed on your back, utterly exhausted. 

“You threw yourself…into its mouth,” you say incredulously, between heaving breaths. “Why...would you do that?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” 

Then he coughs deeply, and the baby is tossed from his chest. The surreality of it all starts you laughing until tears roll down your face and pool against your cheeks. 

The clearing is quiet except for the faint rushing of the river through the canyon nearby and the sounds of your breathing. The silence falling over you suddenly feels thick, lying so close together.

Wondering if he feels it too, you sneak a glance in his direction only to find him watching you.

“Thank you,” he says.

Not trusting yourself to speak, you merely nod, “Of course.” And inwardly cringe. How many times have you said that already?

“Thank you for…” you say before your thoughts catch up, “for offering yourself up to be eaten.” 

Which starts you laughing all over again. And from the rise and fall of the Mandalorian’s chest plate, he may have indulged in a few quiet chuckles.

His hand finds yours in the soft snow, while the other he rests gently over the Child’s head, “This is the Way.”  

With the danger passed, your orbak trots back into the clearing, tossing its shaggy head. It leans down to sniff at the child curiously, making the little one giggle. You retrieve the waterskin from your saddle bag and toss it to the Mandalorian. When he lifts his Beskar helmet up to drink, your breath catches in your throat.

Should you turn your head? He hadn’t given any warning not to look…so you do. It was like being kept outside a walled city, waiting to glimpse the world inside whenever the drawbridge was lowered.  

Back on his feet, you can finally ask Mando, “We must be nearly there by now?”

“We are,” he says, pointing ahead. “The cave is in these hills.”

“Any chance I could make a trip to the riverbank?”

“Now?” 

“Well, my hair is matted with blood...” 

You desperately wanted to change into the clean shirt stuffed inside the satchel tied to your orbak’s saddle.

He nods. “Make it quick. Looks like there’s a storm coming.”

You reach out to grab the reins, but he catches them first. “Take him with you,” the Mandalorian urges. “He’ll let you know if anything comes around.”

You smile sheepishly before making your way down a twisting, narrow path. It’s a steep game trail, and you trip once or twice, slicing your palms on the sharp rocks, but the chance to bathe is worth it. The sun's at its strongest and will keep you from freezing in the cold river.

Remaining close to the bank, you crouch low into the water to scrub the black blood from your skin and hair. Mando’s right about the storm. The sky grew darker by the minute, an ominous tinge of green lining the clouds. The air is humid and smells like lightning. 

At first, you assume that’s what has the orbak spooked until you hear the crunch of scattering rocks. Instinctively, you reach for your knife, but it's back on the bank, buried in a pile of dirty clothes. You ready yourself to jump from the water and tear your feet on the rocky shore when the Mandalorian strides into view. 

He stops to stand on a rise above the riverbank, his helmet turned pointedly so as not to look down at you wading, half-naked in the water. It occurs to you that he purposefully sent those rocks tumbling down the hillside so he had time to look away before you noticed him, for otherwise, he was silent as a shadow. 

His familiar regard for your modesty is rather charming, but you make no attempt to hide your exposed breasts just in case he wants a peek. Sad that you’ll never know whether his eyes grew hungry when his gaze fell over you. 

Still, you’d swear that he was staring now. 

Waiting an eternity for him to say something, when he doesn’t, you feel compelled to call up to him. “What’s hap—”

“We need to get to shelter before the storm picks up,” he says, sounding a touch flustered. 

At his words, the wind whips through your wet hair, pinching at your nipples. And you realize he’s not going to come down to the river until you put some clothes on. You pull on your pants and shove your wet feet back into your boots, thankful that at least the fabric of your fresh shirt isn’t glued to your skin by a stiff layer of blood.

“I’ll need to ride with you,” he explains, pulling himself up and settling into the saddle before extending a hand to you. His grip is so strong, hauling you up in one powerful motion, that you barely have time to gasp before you’re perched behind him. 

“You want the kid or the rifle?” Mando asks from over his shoulder.

Thinking it best not to leave the child unprotected, lest he be snatched up by some flying monstrosity, you decide, “Rifle,” and sling it over your back. 

Then he takes the reins in hand. “Grab hold of me,” he orders, as though you needed to be told to wrap your arms around his waist. He kicks the orbak into a trot, and you lean into the warm press of his body.

*******

Rain batters the mouth of the cave. The air inside is damp and heavy with the musty smell of wet stone. It's dark until a flash of lightning fills the cavern, followed shortly by a rumble of thunder. 

Eyes stirring at the sound, a broken man splayed on the cave floor glances up as you make your way inside. He flinches when catching sight of the Mandalorian but recovers quickly to fix a sneer on his face.

“Who the fuck is this?” he pants, trying to sit up. And though it’s cold inside the cave, sweat pours from his skin, hair soaked and dripping down his mottled face.

Crumpled ration packets, an empty canteen, and a discarded syringe are scattered around him. The Bacta is probably the only reason he wasn’t dead from sepsis already. 

His comrade’s body lay on the other side of the cave, still clutching a blaster, eyes glossy and vacant. “Dumb bitch. Did you bring a fucking baby with you?”

“Speak to her like that again,” the Mandalorian growls at him. “And you’ll be missing a tongue along with your leg.” 

It’s quite the conundrum. The man’s body had been crushed under a boulder. Even if the rock could somehow be moved…he would bleed out immediately. But amputating the leg would be delicate work. There wasn’t enough room between the rock and what’s left of his thigh for a clean angle.

“No!” He screams, “Don’t—don’t you fucking touch me.” He picks up the syringe needle and thrusts it out in front of himself like a blade. “Don’t you come near me!”

You direct a frustrated sigh at the Mandalorian. Antagonizing this man will not help his quarry to survive what came next.

“Hello there,” you kneel beside the man, taking off your gloves to offer him a hand, open-palmed without scorn or a trace of sarcasm. "I'm a healer,” you say gently, "and I’m going to get you through this.” 

Struck dumb by your kindness, his face softens, and he takes hold of your hand instinctually. You smile at him with tenderness, watching as he lowers the needle.

The briefest look of confusion crosses his face when he senses you taking control of his neurosystem—right before he falls back to the ground unconscious. 

Which will make this whole endeavor much easier for everyone involved. Listening to misogynistic outbursts while concentrating on your patient's blood pressure is something you generally try to avoid.

“Well, now I know why you brought the sword,” you huff, looking at the serrated teeth that ran along one side of the blade. “Thankfully, I have a wire saw in my kit. But removing the leg won’t be easy. We can’t just saw or hack it off, I’m afraid.”

Your pronouncement doesn’t seem to trouble the Mandalorian.

“Do you have some way to move the rock?” you ask since blasting it is out of the question.

“It’s more of a long shot than a plan,” he says, taking the Child from your arms and placing him on the ground before the boulder. “Alright, kid. I need you to do something for me.”

“What—?” 

He turns to you, “This will be hard to explain…so for now, I need you to focus on readying him for when the kid can move the rock.”

“Uh, the baby is going to what now?”

“Just trust me,” Mando cuts in.

You dig inside your field kit for a tourniquet and IV pack, keeping your questions to yourself. You owed him that much. 

“Tourniquet, first. We’ll need to amputate immediately after clearing his leg out from under the rock.” You place a hand over your scalpel. “I’ll cut through the muscle first before you saw the bone. Nerves and arteries, I’ll do separately.”

You take a deep breath, “As soon as the leg’s off, we coat the stump in foam.”

The Mandalorian nods in understanding.

You admired his ability to take orders without bristling or bringing ego into it. Recognizing your strengths and shortcomings takes a certain kind of wisdom. In your experience, most men’s crippling flaw is an unwillingness to admit when they've waded in way over their heads. 

“I’d use a laser-blade in the field for amputations, but I’m sorry, I didn’t think to buy one.”

“Don't apologize. I didn’t intend for this to become your responsibility.”

“I didn’t mean—” you stammer, “I’m happy I can be of help...to you.”

At that, he nods once more.

“Have you seen a tree felled?” You ask him, pulling out the bone saw from your field kit. “Yes? With long, tearing strokes. This will require a constant and consistent level of pressure,” you caution. “We don’t want any small breaks or shards. It's why I can't amputate until we clear the boulder. If any bone or marrow gets into the bloodstream, it could be fatal.” 

"I suspected it wouldn't be that simple," he sighs in frustration. "I just hope this works."

“Right,” you snort after laying all the necessary instruments around you in a circle. “Scalpel, scissors, clamps, foam…I’m giving him a nerve blocker, so hopefully, he’ll stay sedated.”

With that done, you strap on your headlamp and sit back on your heels, looking between the Mandalorian and the baby. “I’m…” you throw up your hands. “We’re ready.”

And you wait politely for whatever is about to happen. 

While you were preparing the patient for surgery, Mando had wedged the scabbard of his longsword under the boulder as a sort of fulcrum. There was a slight downward tilt to the ground extending towards the back of the cave. But it seems impossible that even he had the strength to dislodge a hunk of granite the size of your orbak. 

“Okay, kid,” he nods significantly at the Child, “I need you to lift the rock.”

Mando then places a hand on the boulder and gives it a performative shove with his shoulder. Your eyebrows shoot up so high they’re in danger of disappearing into your scalp.  

“This man, under the rock,” Mando continues. “We have to get him out, or he’ll die.”

The baby tilts his head from side to side. For what it’s worth, you gesture to the guy’s crushed leg, and the kid’s ears turn upward.  

“Come on, kid.” You’ve noticed that the Mandalorian's voice has a special register whenever he speaks to the Child. It's lighter and softer, gentle and encouraging. “Lift the stone,” he repeats.

The kid blinks up at him. 

You expect Mando to become impatient, but he persists, “Come on, kid. Just like you did with the Mudhorn.” 

Mudhorn? You’d love to hear that story—but you bite back your curiosity. Another time.

“I know you can do this, kid. Lift the stone.”

Several minutes pass in restive silence. Then the child closes his eyes and extends a tiny arm from the folds of his robe, talons outstretched. 

Your eyes go wide as full moons.

“Be ready,” Mando says, positioning his grip on the scabbard.

Could this really be happening? You squat behind your patient and tuck both hands under his arms, just in case. 

If you weren’t watching so intently, you might have missed it. The base of the boulder wobbles—ever so slightly.

“Good!” Mando cheers, “Good job, kid! Keep it up.”

The child's mouth and closed eyelids tighten in concentration.

Mando grunts, pressing down on the scabbard with all his considerable strength. Each scrape of the rock against the cavern floor shudders through your bones. The pressure pinning the man’s leg underneath the boulder shifts each time the Mandalorian buries the scabbard a little deeper, when—

You glance up to see the boulder truly lift from off the ground, levitating. A slight shimmer surrounds it, like it's enveloped in an invisible forcefield.

Hypnotized, it's not until the crash of Mando’s falling scabbard and his voice shouting your name, “Thuli!” repeatedly brings you back to reality.

“Here we go,” shaking your head vigorously. You pull backward, dragging the man’s pulverized leg out from under the rock. “Clear! He’s clear!”

The boulder crashes to the ground with a reverberating thud, sending tiny pebbles bouncing and skidding across the cavern floor before the child collapses.

“I’ve got this,” you tell Mando. “Check on the kid.”

You can’t divert a single thought to working out the implications of what you've just witnessed. All your attention is focused on preparing for amputation. 

“He ok?” you ask, not looking up.

“Asleep,” Mando says, the relief clear in his voice. “What can I do?”

“Once I isolate the femoral artery and sciatic nerve, you can begin sawing the bone.”

You work in comfortable rhythm together. The Mandalorian is calm and attentive, quick to comply with your directives and recognize what needed to happen next.  

“Alright, cut distally, and then we’re gonna let that retract into the belly...”

As a force of habit, you narrate each step in the procedure, feeling grateful that it didn’t seem to bother the bounty hunter. “This must be quite the crash course in anatomy,” you smirk at him, ignoring the squelching sound of dissected muscle.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stick to hunting,” Mando says wryly. “Less blood,” he adds, nodding towards your hands, which are red up to the elbows. A timid smile spreads across your face. This might be the most you’ve ever spoken to each other.  

“This guy’s bounty must be pretty high.”

“Not him,” Mando shakes his head. “It’s what he stole.”

Huh, you had wondered about the dozen or so crates stored inside the cave. It turns out they’re full of blaster cannons. The two men discovered an old Imperial weapons cache and decided to steal the haul from under Ryun Vos. The bounty was for the artillery and someone left alive to talk.

“Sure you want me to take over?” The Mandalorian asks while reaching for the bone saw. 

“Yes, you’ve got the stamina.” 

Your eyes snap up to gauge what he makes of that observation.

Hopefully, he won’t read too much into it, seeing as how you formulated this opinion from watching him whenever he unloaded the cargo hold, went through his training exercises, and happened to be doing pull-ups…but all you see is the blush on your cheeks in the reflective surface of his view plate. 

You watch him now. And despite how gruesome the task is, his rapid, powerful movements are no less impressive. 

“Done,” he says in a low rumble. 

“I’m going to close off the arteries. When I pull my hands away, use the applicator to coat the stump in foam.”

Minutes later, you're pulling off your surgical gloves with a satisfying snap. “Not my tidiest operation, but he’ll live.” You long to comment about what a great team you make, but even in your head, it sounds too desperate. Instead, you look up at him, quiet and expectant, waiting for him to tell you what to do. 

Or explain how the fuck the tiny creature sleeping beside you could lift a slab of granite a thousand times his size using only his…mind? How had he done it?  

Somehow, the bounty hunter reads your thoughts. Picking up the Child, Mando places him in your arms. The little guy looked serene, his nose twitching, deep in sleep. To look at him, you’d never guess he possessed more power than any of your Hapan Queen's revered palace sages.

“And he’s really just asleep?” the Mandalorian asks.

Held in your bare arms, it’s easy to reach for the connection that granted you access to the kid's subconscious. There was no indication of harm or distress.

“He’s just resting.” Then, a thought occurs to you. “Sometimes, if I’ve pushed myself too hard, I need a chance to restore my abilities. I’m not saying it's the same, but…maybe a similar experience?”

“Like a battery recharging?”

“Mmm, not exactly, but close enough,” you shrug.

"No, Mando says firmly. "Explain it to me."

He obviously cared about the kid and was eager for any insight you could provide.

“Do you remember the street performers we saw in Theed? Spinning bowls on the tips of their fingers." But he says nothing in response. "The talent isn't in spinning the bowl. It's maintaining the correct conditions so the bowl keeps itself spinning. My power isn't a well that runs dry and needs to be refilled. I'm tapping into an infinite source, but sometimes, I lose the focus to channel it. So, it's more like recalibrating. Maybe he's just, you know, recalibrating?"

At that, the Mandalorian nods thoughtfully.   

"Thank you," Mando says. "I thought there might be a connection between what he can do and what you do. Using your mind as a tool."

Something eases in your chest when he says tool and not weapon.

"I've never encountered anyone who can do that."

You can sense his disappointment. He'd been hoping you held answers.

"What else have you seen him do?" you ask timidly, careful not to overstep.

"He saved me from a charging Mudhorn. Held it back before it could trample me." The Mandalorian rubs a hand over the scruff of his chin below the jawline of his helmet. "And there's been other things, gone missing or turning up in odd places."

You give him a moment to fill the silence. He's clearly been waiting for the right moment to talk to you about all this. "I think it's why the Empire is hunting him."

Fuck! Your eyes go wide. Imperials? No wonder Mando's so cautious. The Outer Rim is a great place to remain hidden, which is precisely why they're out here, too.

"Does Nito know?" you ask.

Mando shakes his head.

That explains why the Ardennian was left behind on this little expedition. Mando insisted he stay with the Razor Crest to fend off Jawas, but it had felt like there was something more to it.

"You're trusting me with this?" you say, beginning to realize the enormity of this secret. He didn't strike you as a man who trusted easily. But he trusted you.

"Yes," The Mandalorian says in a somber voice. "I thought—I hoped that you decided to stay."

His words warm the deepest, hidden parts of your soul. That hunger to be a part of something again, to do something meaningful with your life, something that matters. Keeping this child's power safe from Imperial forces would be an honorable death.

It made you admire the Mandalorian even more.

"You don't miss sleeping in your own bed?"

Your tone is only slightly teasing since you're too chickenshit to flirt with the Mando outright. Not yet, anyway.

"I don't mind sharing," he says.

If you didn't already know that this very literal-minded man was incapable of innuendo, you'd think he was making a pass at you. Your body is less convinced of his innocence.

Deciding to risk it, you smile sweetly, "I'll keep it warm for you."

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

Continue reading the next installment in Volume 3 - Post #4: Margin of Error

Back to Volume 3 - all posts

[kaleidoscope1967eyes]

how do you think luke would be with pets?

Thanks for the ask, anon! I don't know if any canon or legends material really touches on this, which is such a shame because I think he would be so good with animals!

Luke has always been a fan of all sorts of creatures. As a little boy on Tatooine, he loved playing with and riding his friend Windy's dewback. He did have a pet of his own growing up: the Lars family owned a spotted sandhound named, you guessed it, Sandy. Even though she was an old girl, Luke would always run around the farm with her and try to teach her tricks, and she'd always do her best to keep up with him.

Sandy was extremely protective of him, to the point where it cost her life; when he was around thirteen years old, a group of womp rats ambushed him while he was tending to some moisture vaporators, and she immediately rushed in to take all the fatal blows. It was absolutely devastating, but in a rare moment of vulnerability, Owen used the situation to teach Luke about the inevitability of loss and the importance of appreciating those you love in the moment--a skill that would ultimately be very relevant to his jedi training.

On the topic of jedi training, animals are naturally drawn to him due to his strong presence in the force. Sometimes this means an entire flock of jubba birds will land on him and all start singing, other times it means large, predatory creatures will locate him very easily and try to eat him. Luke absolutely hates fighting or attacking animals. He is forever haunted by the time he literally disarmed a wampa--he was only trying to scare it away, he didn't mean for it to actually make contact with his lightsaber. You remind him that even though he didn't have a choice, he still did the right thing by giving it a chance to live.

I know I've talked about this before, but Luke would be a total horse girl (boy). He's great with dewbacks and he's great with tauntauns, so he would definitely also be great with equinoids like pulgas, orbaks, and guarlaras. Even though horses are usually extra skittish around men, they're perfectly fine around him because they can sense just how kind and gentle he is. They especially appreciate that he's intuitive and empathetic enough to know never to raise his voice or make sudden movements around them.

After noticing Luke's knack for critters, you decide to get him a pet of his own. You end up getting him a rescue tooka cat you found in a shelter at Mos Espa: it's a playful, snuggly orange tabby that's missing its right paw. What a strange coincidence, you thought, gently picking it up. Luke deserves to know he's not alone.

When Luke came back to your shared quarters on Home One and saw a kitty on his bed, he was ecstatic. He literally started crying--thankfully, you had R2 there to record his reaction. Because you found it on Tatooine, Luke decided to call it "Lars" in honor of his family. They end up doing everything together: he goes to briefings with Lars stretched out on his shoulders, they go on joyrides in his x-wing together, etc. People get a huge kick out of how close they are--"guy who blew up the Death Star crying over a cat" ends up becoming a huge meme in the Rebellion.

Tagging: (comment if you want to be tagged or you want me to stop tagging you)

@stonegoldsxcrxt

@laserbrains

@fandom-gal44

@myevilmouse

@hansonveggieclub

@lex-the-flex

@ancient-stardust

@dailydragon08 (happy birthday!)

@spacesurfing

@starobi

@starryluce

@hxney-lemcn

@lukefics

@demigoddessqueens

@micheleamidalajedi

@princessxkenobi

[june-girl-86]

Chapter 55

Old acquaintances and new faces on Boro-Borosa have to say goodbye in different ways.

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC Female!

ReaderRating: Mature/Explicit (+18)

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence / Love / Action&Adventure / Blood&Violence / Drama & Romance / Slow Burn / Fluff&Smut

On Boro-Borosa, some cities, especially the capital Amos, had formed from the smallest oases of the desert planet and still treasured them. But there were also many untouched places that were not inhabited by the masses. That was where the sand people had been drawn to. In the middle of the desert, at the foot of a mountain from which the spring that supplied the flourishing date palms with water gushed before it flowed into the lake amidst the green splendor. The fish in it were part of the diet of the inhabitants of the oasis. Many of the tents stood between the shady palm trees, and stables had been erected a little to one side. Eopis, banthas and other farm animals were responsible for agriculture and food. The Tusks were once again leading a peaceful life on Bora-Borosa.

Basmah stepped out of her tent, Yamha had finally fallen asleep. The little girl was becoming more and more agile and curious about the world. Her husband sat in front of the campfire, nodding to her. The pipe he always indulged in at night protruded from his mask. He pointed to the free cushion next to him, but she shook her head. Basmah wanted to stretch her legs a little. The glow of the campfires or the torches could be seen everywhere. There were whispers so as not to wake the sleeping people. A breeze moved the palm leaves and let the moonlight through, which was reflected on the surface of the lake. Basmah walked past it, hearing the snorting and humming of her animals. Normally they were asleep at this time of night, but something seemed to be keeping them awake.

The Tusken woman paused when she saw a figure sitting on a rock outside the palm trees. The shape looked familiar to her and Basmah tried to make loud noises so as not to frighten the blind woman. She touched Umm gently on the shoulder and the old woman smiled knowingly.

"What are you still doing here at this late hour?" she asked, crouching down in front of Umm. Basmah had been watching her for the last few days, Umm couldn't rest, did that have anything to do with Nhean's visit? He had not come alone, his wife had accompanied him for the first time. Umm was silent and the wind picked up again. Basmah shivered and reached for Umm's hand. It was very cold, how long had she been sitting here? Had she even eaten dinner?

"Come on, I'll take you back to your tent, you'll freeze to death here!"

Umm shook her head and lifted it. Basmah followed suit and looked up at the sky.

"I'm watching the stars. They have changed!"

The young woman noticed the multitude of stars shining so brightly next to the moon, something she had never noticed before. And then the words slowly sunk in for Basmah. She stared at Umm.

"What do you mean, you watch the stars?"

Umm squeezed Basmah's hand and she could see the old woman's happy features.

"The light shows me the way. There is no place so dark that the eye cannot spot a star. And now they all shine for me!"

Umm looked up again and closed her eyes. Basmah could see the tears glistening as they found their way. And then Umm's head slowly sank down onto her chest, returning her last breath to her home.

As the door slid open, Severin looked sternly at his colleague, who hung her head with a sigh.

"I'm sorry!"

Severin glanced at his watch.

"You're over half an hour late, Bice!"

She sighed again and dropped her bag next to her desk.

"I left on time, but they're going crazy in the city!"

Severin frowned.

"The coachmen had to catch their orbaks again. The animals have been running through the alleyways in complete disarray, destroying many traders' displays and the chickens have broken out of their cages in the market square. The parrots were screeching, and a trader who was on her way out with me said the noise was unbearable!"

Severin looked out of the window, where they could watch the hustle and bustle of the spaceport. Everything seemed the same as always and yet something seemed different.

"But the data is normal, apart from the one spike a few days ago, everything is fine!" he muttered to his colleague. She sat down in her seat and also checked the reports. None of the arriving tourists knew which inconspicuous building they were passing as soon as they left their ship to enter the city. And yet it was so important to inform everyone in good time if a disaster was about to strike. Time passed until Bice thoughtfully pressed a few keys and turned to Severin.

"Are you getting data from sector 4 at the oasis? I'm missing them!"

Severin looked and shook his head.

"No, I'm not getting anything either! But that would be at a completely different location, as it was measured a few days ago!"

Bice shrugged her shoulders helplessly and called one of her technicians. But he was busy in Raija. Bice ended the call and hesitated briefly before grabbing her bag and jumping up. She repacked her drink and Severin looked at her questioningly.

"I've already been to Sector 4, it'll be quicker if I take care of it myself!"

Her colleague agreed and looked after her as she left her workstation and hurried past the window outside. Bice took one of the speeders, which also contained tools, and set off.

Bice slowly approached the green oasis that lay sheltered at the foot of the mountain. She knew that Tusken lived here, but that they were peaceful. Nevertheless, she didn't want to be rude and simply storm into their home. She stopped the speeder at a rock and took off the sand goggles and the cloth. She shook out the sand before putting it in her bag. Bice got out, grabbed her bag and the toolbox. As she walked past the rock, she noticed the bowl on top and the many fruit pits inside. Bice walked on, approaching the palm trees and the small settlement. It was very quiet for the time of day, which surprised her a little. But as she walked past the tents to get to the stream that would lead her up the mountain, she smelled it. Bice paused and closed her eyes. Neroli, the scent of bitter orange blossom. She guessed why it was floating in the air. In Amos, too, it drifted through the alleyways from the windows when people mourned the dead and sought solace in their grief. The flowers exuded the peace that was so urgently needed in these times. So the Tusks had a loss to mourn. Bice sighed, sorry to have to disturb the sand people. The stream babbled along and Bice climbed the hill. A few children came towards her, waved and ran back to their village. Before she reached the ledge, she was spotted by the adults. Bice stopped and bowed her head. She would not go any further until she got a sign. A woman stepped up to her, a small body stirring beneath her robe, and Bice smiled at her counterpart.

"I'm sorry, you're in mourning!"

The woman nodded, her eyes reddened yet composed.

"I have to go to the cave, fix the sensor!"

The Tusken woman stepped aside and Bice thanked her. She left the mourners behind and set to work.

Bice had thought it would be a matter of a few minutes, but the repair took several hours and when she stepped out of the cave, she was greeted by the soothing scent and the setting sun. From her vantage point, she had a beautiful view of it and she took her time. After the last red dot had disappeared, she descended the slope. There was a pot of soup simmering over the fire and Bice realized how hungry she was. She hadn't even touched her snack yet.

"Is everything ready again?"

Startled, Bice moved to the side, she hadn't noticed the Tusken woman. It was the same one who had greeted her this morning. Bice nodded.

"Yes, now I hope my colleagues can receive all the data again. I didn't want to disturb your ritual!"

The woman smiled, you could see it in her eyes, which were the only ones uncovered.

"We gave Umm back to the Creator shortly after she died. The loss will be with us for some time!"

Bice nodded in understanding.

"I am Basmah and I would like to ask you to join us for dinner. You've been working all day!"

Before Bice could refuse, her stomach growled loudly and the women giggled. While the Tusken retreated to their tents to eat, Bice sat down on a cushion under the open sky and enjoyed the soup. It was not only filling, but also warmed her up. In the city, you didn't notice the cold after sunset as much as you did out here. Basmah joined her again, holding her child in her arms, who rubbed her eyes tiredly but didn't want to fall asleep. Bice felt the same and yawned. She shook herself, she still had to go back.

"Does the speeder have autopilot?"

Bice sighed.

"It's a work machine, why would it have that luxury equipment in it?" she scoffed and Basmah laughed. The baby babbled too, as if the little one knew what it was all about.

"Stay here. We always have a tent free!"

Bice wanted to object, but she could feel the tiredness in her limbs and knew she wouldn't get far without falling asleep. She agreed and asked to be shown to her sleeping place.

The baby cried loudly and Bice opened her eyes tiredly. It was a strange cry and slowly she sat up between her blankets. In addition to the crying, she also heard the bleating of the Eopis and snorting of the Banthas. The voices of the Tusken joined in, trying to calm the animals. Bice put on her shoes and left the tent. Most of the fires were out, torches burning, and yet this infinitely star-studded sky was so appealing that this was the first thing Bice saw. Then she heard the beeping of one of her devices in her work bag.

But before she could get back into the tent, she felt strange, the sensation traveling through her body. Creeping up from her legs, it made her tremble. She felt unwell, dizzy and as if everything was spinning. She tried to hold on, but even the fabric of the tent swayed and she understood that the ground was shaking. This was joined by the humming coming from below. In addition to the sounds of the animals, which had sensed the danger much earlier than all the sensors and had not recognized it. Rocks could be heard rolling down the slope, breaking away from the mountain. The Tusks wailed in their own language, but did not scream. They probably didn't want to worry the children any more. Bice felt sick, hopefully the slope wouldn't slide down and they would be buried under it. And then it stopped. The humming disappeared and the animals stopped complaining. The swaying subsided and yet Bice clung to the fabric of her tent for several minutes as if it could give her a firm hold. It was quiet, no one made a sound, even her tool had fallen silent again. And then her Komlink beeped in this strange silence. With trembling hands, she pulled it out of her pocket and when she activated it, she heard Severin scream. Bice sank to her knees and couldn't believe it. Amos was in ruins...

__________

@the-rain-on-kamino

[wizardofrozz]

Hardcase x fem!reader, Jesse, Fives, Kix, Captain Rex, Commander Cody, and Anakin Skywalker

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: none

A/N: The reader’s job at the Temple is similar to an airfield operator. So basically the person in charge of moving ships around the hangar so it’s not mayhem.

Hardcase bounced his leg in time with the ringing of his com, glancing up when Jesse laughed across the room. Torrent’s barracks were mostly empty aside from Jesse and Tup, giving him a tiny bit of privacy. The call finally connected and Hardcase straightened, smiling like an idiot when your flickering outline came into view. 

         “Hey! Sorry, I was putting a few things away and didn’t hear my com,” you rushed out but the apology fell on deaf ears. Somehow, your beauty still stunned him every time without fail. 

         “That’s okay,” he managed to force out, his eyes dancing around your features. He’d never get sick of seeing your smiling face. “I have a bit of downtime and wanted to see your pretty face.”

         “Is that so?” you chuckled, arching a brow.

         “‘Course, cyar’ika, you brighten my day,” Hardcase cooed. It came out a bit teasing but he meant it with every fiber of his being. Your eyes narrowed, skepticism written all over your face.

         “I swear ‘Case, if you did some crazy shit again and broke another bone -”

         “I didn’t!” he cried immediately, waving off Jesse when he glanced over.

         “Then what did you do?” you pressed.

         “Nothing! Why do you always think I did something?” As soon as it was out of his mouth he flinched; he did have a habit of getting himself into trouble. 

         “Hm, I wonder,” you deadpanned.

         “I’ve been on my best behavior,” Hardcase swore with a hand over his heart. Your suspicion didn’t wane but you nodded, relaxing back in your chair. “So, what did you do today?”

         “Oh, well that’s why it took me so long to answer,” you replied, leaning down to dig through something out of sight. “I went to get dinner and go shopping with mum.”

         “Get anything interesting?” he asked, crawling farther into his bunk to get comfortable.

         “Mm, not really. Just one thing I wanted to show you,” you replied, still searching. “Ah!” You grinned as you held up the sweater, draping it over your upper body. He couldn’t tell what color it was through the hologram but the snowflakes were easy to notice. 

         “A Life Day sweater?”

         “I thought it was cute,” you laughed, turning it around to look at it. “And, it’s blue and white for my favorite boys.” Hardcase smiled, huffing out a quiet laugh. He did love seeing you in 501st blue and you were well aware. 

         “Send me a picture later,” he proposed. It was honestly meant as an innocent request but warmth started to pool in his stomach when a flirty little smile lifted the corner of your mouth.

         “Gettin’ lonely, pretty boy?” you purred, tilting your head.

         “That was not what I meant,” Hardcase insisted, glancing away, “but I won’t look a gift orbak in the mouth.” Your laughter was light and warm, a sound he’d found himself missing after being surrounded by only droids and his brothers. 

         “I guess it’ll be a surprise then,” you chuckled, folding your arms and resting your chin on them. 

         “Fine by me, cyare,” Hardcase sighed happily, studying your blue-tinted features. 

         “Now tell me how you’ve been, honey.”

It took Fives and Jesse jumping into his bunk to pull him away from you but it was getting late on Coruscant and he didn’t want to keep you up. Hardcase let his brothers drag him out of the barracks to do who knows what; he hoped it revolved around getting something to eat. Fives and Jesse were on his left side, having a loud conversation that Hardcase hadn’t been paying attention to when his datapad pinged. He dropped back a step when your com frequency blinked back at him; he was not going to share the picture he was expecting with his brothers. 

Hardcase could tell there were two images in the message, the first one was an innocent picture of you in your new sweater and he let out a quiet sigh of relief. He jumped when an arm settled around his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Fives’ face out of the corner of his eye. Hardcase had never been more thankful that he hadn’t scrolled down.

         “I swear, she gets prettier every time I see her,” Fives purred, jostling him. Hardcase shoved him away, exiting the message before Fives got nosy; his brother laughed, shooting him a shit-eating grin. Jesse arched a brow from the mess hall door, falling in step with his brothers as they made their way to their regular table where Kix and Rex were sitting already. 

         “Hey, boys,” Rex greeted, barely glancing up from his datapad. The three newly arrived troopers greeted him with a chorused “captain” as they crowded around the table. “I guess I can give you the new orders while you’re here.”

         “New orders?” Jesse wondered, resting his arms on the table.

         “We’re returning to Coruscant. General Skywalker has some kind of senate business to handle so we get a few days of shore leave,” Rex said, finally setting his datapad down. Hardcase tried not to look excited, but Rex's faint head shake meant he’d failed to contain his smile. Could his captain really blame him for being excited to see you?

His brothers continued to talk back and forth but Hardcase’s thoughts were already drifting down another road. And the pictures you sent him gave him an idea. 

The Jedi temple hangar was buzzing with activity. Jedi and clones hurried around as you tried to rearrange the ships that were docked to make room for incoming ships amidst the chaos. You got a thumbs-up from Manny, the clone currently moving a Jedi starfighter as he retracted the landing gears. The ping from your datapad drew your attention and you glanced around to make sure no one was watching before opening the message from Hardcase. Apparently, he had a lot of time to waste since he had been sending you messages most of the day.

Did you get a chance to wear your new sweater yet?

The message had you raising a brow but you quickly typed back that you hadn’t had the chance yet but that you planned on wearing it to the Life Day party at the Temple later. Working for the Jedi wasn’t something you had ever imagined you’d be doing but you enjoyed it. They included any of the non-Force users in the few celebrations they had every year and it didn’t feel like you or any of your co-workers were lesser. You felt appreciated.

Your datapad pinged again but you were forced to ignore it when air traffic called in that there was a badly damaged shuttle coming in. Hardcase would have to wait. 

One of the downsides to Coruscant was the weather-controlled climate. It didn’t snow often so walking into the Jedi temple’s courtyard felt a little odd. Life Day decorations covered every visible spot and soft music filled the space but the bright sunlight felt a little out of place. Jedi knights, padawans, temple workers, and clones milled around the courtyard mingling and it almost felt normal. Even though the infantry clones were still in full armor because the war didn’t care about the holidays, the air felt lighter, happier than you remembered. Although, you couldn’t ignore the wave of longing that washed over you. Hardcase hadn’t mentioned shore leave which meant there was no chance he’d be on-world and you tried not to let the thought bring your mood down. 

However, catching a glimpse of Commander Cody didn’t help.

         “Commander,” you greeted when he looked up. You knew most of the clone commanding officers to some degree, being that they were the ones that usually accompanied their generals to the temple. 

         “Hey,” Cody hummed with a half-smile. “They let you out of the hangar for once.”

         “I do have a life you know,” you huffed, shaking your head.

         “Oh I know,” Cody snorted, hiding it behind his drink, “Rex tells me about it.”

         “I wish I could say I was surprised but…well, have you met Hardcase?” Cody laughed quietly and it felt good to see the usually rigid commander loosen up a bit. Something akin to amusement danced in his eyes when he suddenly glanced down.

         “Nice sweater. Wonder who that’s for?”

         “Must be a coincidence,” you deadpanned, earning another pearl of laughter from Cody. You were just about to move on to the group of your coworkers you could see a few feet away when Cody’s eyes flickered over your head. His expression fell in shock before he squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.

         “He’s an idiot,” Cody mumbled, meeting your gaze again. 

         “What -?” You twisted around to find what he was talking about, your own disbelief cutting the question short. General Skywalker was the first person you recognized but Rex’s iconic blonde hair was hard to miss. Your heart stuttered in your chest, eyes immediately searching the small group of soldiers making their way into the courtyard. They were almost directly in front of you by the time you managed to get your pounding heart under control. 

General Skywalker’s knowing smile made your face feel too warm.

         “You look surprised to see us,” he noted, crossing his arms.

         “I - I didn’t know the 501st was back,” you managed to spit out, using every ounce of willpower not to look for the one person you were desperate to see.

         “Now that I think about it, I’m not surprised,” Skywalker laughed, glancing at the captain standing beside him. Rex looked exhausted and you had a sinking feeling it had something to do with a certain brother. 

         “He’s your problem for a few days,” Rex grumbled before making a beeline toward where Cody was still standing. Skywalker chuckled again as he patted your shoulder and moved around you. And that’s when you saw him. 

         “Oh dear,” you breathed. Hardcase was bouncing impatiently a few feet away as he talked with Jesse. The urge to sprint to him was barely curbed by the staggering shock freezing you in place. Your eyes trailed down from his face, darting around the familiar white shapes painted on his completely blue breastplate. You didn’t need to look down at your own outfit to know it would match. 

Hardcase glanced toward you and his entire face lit up with a smile, apparently ignoring the stunned expression on your face that Jesse was laughing at. He quickly closed the few feet to stand before you, oozing pride. 

         “You alive, cyar’ika?” he teased, drawing your eyes up to meet his.

         “We match,” you blurted needlessly, blinking a few times. Hardcase’s smile was nearly blinding as he rested a hand on his chest and you finally move a bit closer, still leaving an acceptable distance while you were still in public. 

         “So you like it?” he asked, his voice pitching up in uncertainty. You reached forward to rest your hand on his, smiling up at him; tears collected in your eyes at the rush of reliefshockhappiness knotting in your chest. 

         “I love it, Hardcase,” you assured, your stomach swooping when he ducked his head. “And I love you.” Hardcase’s eyes flickered around the crowd standing a fair distance behind you and ducked down to steal a quick kiss.

         “I love you too,” he whispered. You felt ready to burst, overwhelmed with a dizzy kind of joy that came with knowing Hardcase was home and you dropped your eyes back to his breastplate. It took a second for the question to form in your mind before you found his eyes again, your brows furrowed.

         “Why didn’t you just see about buying a matching sweater?” you wondered. Hardcase’s face fell as he thought about your suggestion only to turn his face away with a bashful smile. “You didn’t think of it, did you?”

         “I didn’t think of it,” he agreed. And Maker, you never wanted to kiss him more. 

         “Well, I like this better anyway,” you laughed, squeezing his hand that you were still holding. Hardcase tilted his head down to study the design he’d obviously worked hard on with a proud grin. 

Rex would probably make him scrub it off later, regulations and all, but you could savor the thoughtful gesture while you had the chance. At least holopics lasted forever. 

25 days of Life Day Masterlist

Taglist: @sleepingsun501​ 

[morethanaloveinterest]

An Intrigued Review of Jannah's Costumes in TROS

The Rise of Skywalker introduced the intriguing character of Jannah, a former stormtrooper, so let's talk about what her costume informs us about her.

Jannah and her company of stormtroopers defected to Kif Bir, a moon in the Endor system. They domesticated Orbak (like horses) and her outfit tells us all about that process. Her trousers may be part of her stormtrooper uniform while the rest of her clothes look to be made out of leather (including her shoes!). The cape and other accessories are clearly salvaged from the shuttle they crashed on the moon, using parachute material and other odds and ends. The weapon on her belt is an Orbak tusk; the belt itself she may have already had, while the sash across her chest is clearly snakeskin. All this tells us how she has survived on the (uninhabited?) moon and made a living there after breaking free. Her clothes fit the aesthetic of the sequel trilogy well, similar in practicality to Rey's costume but clearly a different concept. Both are inspired by the lives of the characters, and that's a really great way to design a costume.

Female representation: 10/10 Fantastic as usual in this trilogy. She is obviously a beautiful woman wearing tight-fitting clothing but it's form-fitting in a practical way, not an objectifying way. It makes sense for her to be wearing this in her environment and the other stormtroopers (regardless of gender) are dressed similarly. It's not an excuse to put her in like, a leather bikini or something, as other media about a stranded woman might.

Practicality: 10/10 Honestly, one reason I really enjoy Star Wars is because of the very practical costumes (especially in the original and sequel trilogies). Her outfit is perfect for the life she leads and also works well for horse-back riding (other than the cape, which this horsegirl does not recommend for riding as it will spook the horse).

If you enjoyed this, check out my Star Wars for the Girlies Series (New Jannah video out now!)