#Chandrila

[britisharmymilitaryintelligence]

BITCHES FROM ALDERAAN AND CHANDRILLA WHO HAVE BEEN ON THIS PLANET FOR A VERY LONG TIME ARE BEING MANIPULATED BY OTHERS IN MANY WAYS INCLUDING THROUGH INFORMATION MANIPULATION SUCH AS PROVIDING INCORRECT DATA, WHICH IS EASIER BECAUSE BITCHES LIKE THEM DO NOT HAVE ACCESS TO DEVICES ON THIS PLANET. CRIMINALS WANT TO KEEP THE BITCHES FROM ALDERAAN AND CHANDRILLA HERE TO USE THEM AND WE WANT THEM TO LEAVE THIS PLANET IMMEDIATELY.

[tomsellick]

THOMAS ALDOUS RAWLING CLAIMING EARTH AN INSTANCE OF THE PLANET TERRA IS A COLONY WORLD OF ANOTHER PLANET GIEDI CORUSCANT ALDERAAN CHANDRILA CHANDRILLA CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

[swan-of-sunrise]

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Forty-Five)

Summary: On the anniversary of the Battle of Endor, (Y/N) opens up and shares more of her past with Din as they spend the anniversary in their home on Nevarro.

Pairing: Din Djarin X F!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Disclaimer for a discussion of wartime trauma/traumatic experiences

A/N: Hi there! Since The Mandalorian and Grogu and The Mandalorian: Season 3 aren't gonna release anytime soon, I decided that I'd write a few chapters about Din, Alor'ad and Grogu's life on Nevarro before their adventure continues in their movie/show, so stay tuned for more chapters :) Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Forty-Five The Festival (Previous Chapter)

One of the first things that newcomers to Nevarro learned about the small Outer-Rim planet was that the sun set quickly over the vast lava flats and rocky terrain, all thanks to the planet’s unique orbit. The second and most surprising factoid about the Hydian Way’s booming anchor point was that its inhabitants – both the beings that lived on the ashen world of black sands all their lives and the settlers who’d emigrated there after its eventual liberation from Imperial forces – absolutely loved a good party. To please the people of Nevarro, High Magistrate Greef Karga instituted several jubilees commemorating various historical events and local holidays, and the largest of those celebrations was the Festival of Freedom, a day to celebrate the Battle of Endor and the ultimate defeat of the Galactic Empire by the Rebel Alliance.

While (Y/N) enjoyed the city’s many holidays and participated in as many of the festivities as she could, the Festival of Freedom was one that she couldn’t bring herself to celebrate. To a significant part of the galaxy, the war ended that fateful day and peace was automatically achieved the moment that Emperor Palpatine’s death was announced, but that simply wasn’t the case for (Y/N) and every single person who’d fought for the Rebellion; there were still planets to free from Imperial occupation and citizens to save from the wrath of their oppressors, and they simply didn’t have the luxury to stop and celebrate the momentous victory. That, coupled with the fresh memories of their violent and traumatic battle against Moff Gideon and his Stormtroopers on Mandalore, was what compelled (Y/N) to speak up and ask Din over breakfast if they could stay home instead.

“Of course we can, alor’ad,” Din automatically replied, setting his mug of caf down and reaching across the dining room table to rest his hand atop hers, his warm brown eyes overflowing with sincerity and a touch of relief as he continued. “To be honest, I was about to ask you the same question; my back’s still sore from that last hunt, and I don’t think it’ll feel any better if I go ahead and weigh it down with over fifty pounds of beskar.”

“In that case, I suppose that everything they say about great minds thinking alike is true.” (Y/N)’s tone was light and there was a smile on her face, but she expressed her gratitude to her husband by twisting her hand around and threading her fingers securely through his.

(Y/N) and Din spent their day tidying up the house, a task that they’d both been putting off for far too long; with (Y/N) spending most of her time fixing up what would soon become her seamstress shop, Din training Grogu in the Way of the Mandalore and the pair of them hunting down bounties across the galaxy for Captain Teva, their humble home and garden had fallen into the wayside. By dinnertime, they’d cleaned the kitchen and ‘fresher, straightened up the bedroom and living room, weeded the garden and were nearly finished folding their newly-washed clothes, all while taking turns encouraging Grogu to practice wielding the Force.

The sun had already set by the time they finished preparing dinner and tiredly sat down to enjoy their food, the both of them wishing that they could call it a night and go to bed early but knowing that the Festival of Freedom’s fireworks show would only disturb their slumber. “So, what do you wanna do to pass the time until the festival’s over?” (Y/N) asked, reclining on their couch with Grogu seated on her lap and absentmindedly tossing his silver sphere across the room, only for the child to halt its movement and summon it back to her using the Force. “We could play a game of sabacc…or we could watch a holovid…or we could always disassemble and clean every single blaster on this property…”

“If we did that, we wouldn’t finish until next cycle’s Festival of Freedom,” Din chuckled as he plopped down onto the couch beside her. Although they’d been living on Nevarro for several weeks, she was still growing accustom to seeing her husband without any of his beskar armor on; on their little tract of land, he exclusively wore the durable work-wear and comfortable lounge-wear she’d sewn for him, and she couldn’t get enough of seeing the fearsome Mandalorian looking so relaxed and at peace. “Why don’t you teach me how to sew?”

(Y/N)’s brow rose in surprise. “You wanna learn how to sew?”

“Of course, alor’ad. Your craft is important to you and to your people’s culture, which means that it’s important to me as well,” Din explained as his brown eyes shone with earnestness. “If you can learn how to fight from a Mandalorian warrior, then I can learn how to sew from a Naboo seamstress.”

A smile slowly spread across her face at that. “All right, then. We’ll start with something simple and go from there, okay?”

Her husband got up from the couch and bent down to kiss her forehead as he went to retrieve her sewing kit. “You’re the alor’ad!”

Although sewing was the furthest thing from the typical repertoire of a fully-trained Mandalorian warrior, Din was a patient student who listened to her instructions and watched her demonstrations with rapt attention. She showed him how to thread a needle and tie it off, then sat back and allowed him to practice on a scrap of plain cotton; thanks to his mastery of countless weapons at a young age, he possessed a delicate touch typically unseen in those with larger hands and after a couple of attempts, he successfully completed the task. It was then that Grogu, having grown bored with their unusual distraction and tired from his active day of training, let his parents tuck him into bed and instantly fell asleep, cuddling up to his stuffed loth-cat toy as he snored. As quietly as they could, they crept back into the living room and after enjoying a glass of wine, (Y/N) talked Din through sewing a button onto the scrap cotton.

“Okay, now make four stitches below the button to secure it…no, a little to the-yep, right there. Now, tie the thread off,” (Y/N) instructed and once Din finished, she offered him her small pair of scissors along with a proud grin. “And all you have to do now is trim off the excess.”

Accepting the scissors, her husband carefully snipped the thread and held up the cloth to admire his handiwork. “I lost track of how many times I’ve tried and failed to stitch buttons back onto my clothes, and I don’t even wanna know how many credits I spent at different tailoring stalls and seamstress booths before I met you.”

“While I can’t get you those credits back, I can make sure that you never have to pay to have your clothes repaired…with credits, that is. I still require kisses and cuddles in exchange for my repairing skills,” (Y/N) sunnily replied.

The Mandalorian’s lips curved into a suggestive smile as he set the cloth aside and rested a hand on the curve of her waist. “And what’ll these lessons end up costing me?”

Feeling a little mischievous, (Y/N) leaned over and trailed soft kisses along the scruff of his cheek, stopping right next to his ear and whispering, “Dish duty for a week.”

“Mir’sheb!” Din exclaimed in exaggerated outrage, his fingers dug into her side while (Y/N) devolved into fits of giggles and attempted to squirm away from his tickling attack.

Before Din’s lips could descend onto hers, the thunderous explosion of a firework echoed outside and their home’s foundation quaked; in an instant, (Y/N) was jarringly reminded of why they opted to stay home in the first place, and she immediately sobered. “Let’s, um…let’s try a little embroidery. It’s tricky to get a hang of but it’ll be a nice challenge…” She quickly extracted herself from her husband’s arms and crossed the living room to rummage through her chest of sewing supplies, vaguely aware of her frantic heartbeat and sweaty palms as she fought to keep her voice to stay steady. “We need some embroidery thread and needles-” Another firework exploded and her grip on the chest’s lid tightened in response. “D-Did you know that Boba gifted me an embroidery machine? Yeah, it’s a pre-Empire model, even older than the one my mother used to use.”

“Alor’ad…?”

“It works in a pinch, but I’d much rather embroider by hand if I can help it-”

“(Y/N).” Her eyes briefly closed for a moment and she shut the chest’s lid, slowly sinking to the ground and wrapping her arms around her knees, her gaze diligently trained on the star-patterned material of her lounge pants but mindful of Din as he tentatively lowered himself to sit on the floor beside her. “Please, ner cyar’ika alor’ad, tell me what’s wrong.”

Biting her lip, (Y/N) finally looked over at Din and felt a surge of guilt when she saw the concern written across his face. “Where were you when you heard about the Battle of Endor?”

Her husband’s brows briefly rose in surprise, apparently taken aback by her unusual question. “I was at the covert. I’d just returned from a job with a beskar ingot and the Armorer was forging my left vambrace when we got word that the Emperor was dead; in the city above us, the citizens were rioting and the Imperial garrisons were quick to abandon the planet once they realized that there were targets on their backs.” When she nodded and remained silent, a look of realization filled his warm brown eyes. “I thought that the fireworks might’ve triggered memories of your time in the Rebellion…but it’s something more than that, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) mumbled, dropping her gaze and tightening her hold on her knees when another firework exploded in the distance. “The day the Emperor died, I was smuggling over a hundred civilians off of Chandrila. We were stopped at a blockade and when I realized my cover was blown, I initiated evasive maneuvers; the transport I was piloting was a piece of bantha fodder, though, and it wasn’t long until the TIE Fighters damaged out fuel cells, making it impossible to make the jump to hyperspace without landing for repairs first. If those refugees were from any other planet, surrender would’ve meant they’d become prisoners of war but at least they’d be alive. Unfortunately, Chandrila’s outspoken support for the Rebellion meant that any of its citizens caught fleeing Imperial rule would be labeled as traitors to the Empire and executed on the spot.”

“What happened then?”

“My transport received an urgent transmission from one of the Rebel Alliance’s top generals, relaying the news that a second Death Star had been destroyed and rallying the galaxy to join in the fight against the Empire,” (Y/N) replied, briefly glancing over at Din as she continued. “They told me later that the holographic transmission had been broadcast across the galaxy but in that moment, I could’ve sworn that it was meant for me; it gave me hope for the first time in cycles that someday we’d be free and that everything we were doing as Rebels would finally come to fruition.” Her fingers idly fiddled with the material of her lounge pants and she could feel him shift beside her. “So, I flew our transport into an asteroid field and eventually managed to shake the TIE Fighters in there before landing on a nearby moon for emergency repairs. Once we repaired the fuel rods, I flew them all to our base on Bayora and was given orders to immediately evacuate another refugee settlement on Kuan.”

When she finished her tale, she took a deep breath and turned towards Din; his expression wasn’t one of pity or sympathy, but one of deep understanding that only someone who’d known bloodshed and loss all their life could ever convey. “The war didn’t end for you that day. That’s why you didn’t wanna go to the Festival of Freedom today.”

“It’s difficult to enjoy the celebratory fireworks show when all I hear are the terrified screams of those refugees every time those TIE Fighters bombarded our shields,” (Y/N) replied with a sullen, humorless smile. “I don’t fault anyone for commemorating one of the Rebellion’s landmark milestones, of course, but I don’t think I’m ready to move on and forget about that day.”

While her words still hung in the air, her thoughtful and kind-hearted husband reached over and rested a hand on her knee, the sensation of his thumb tracing warm circles along her limb succeeding in grounding her swirling emotions. “No one can tell you what to feel, alor’ad; you spent years witnessing first-hand the galaxy-wide horrors that the Empire inflicted on its people, and it would be cruel to tell you to just forget those horrors for the sake of a celebration.” He brought his free hand up to brush a wayward strand of hair behind her ear before gently cupping her cheek in his palm. “But you can’t remember the bad without acknowledging the good; you saved the lives of over a hundred refugees that day and the moment you got them to safety, you went on to save countless more. If it were up to me, the New Republic would set a day to honor you and every other Rebellion smuggler who risked their life to save our galaxy’s most vulnerable from the Empire’s wrath,” Din paused to give her a knowing smile. “But I’ve known you long enough to know that you’d rather eat a mynock than be the center of attention.”

(Y/N) laughed. “You really do know me, don’t you?” When their laughter died down, she took the hand that had been resting on her knee between her own and held it tightly. The Mandalorian’s hand was calloused and scarred from his years as a follower of the Way but while he viewed them as simple blemishes, she considered them to be badges of honor; they were an integral part of who he was as a person and evidence of his devotion to his religion and despite his own ambivalence towards them, she adored each and every one of them. Most of my scars are invisible, she thought to herself as she stared into her husband’s softening eyes, but that doesn’t mean he loves them any less. “But you’re right, sweetheart. I’ll find a way to balance the good and the bad and maybe next cycle, we’ll make it to the Festival of Freedom.”

“As long as you’re ready, we can do whatever you’d like,” Din promised, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss onto her brow and pulling back to give her a challenging smirk. “So, what’s this I hear about embroidery being too tricky for a beginner like me?”

“Hey, I never said that it was too tricky because you’re a beginner…” She didn’t bother to suppress the impish smile that began spreading across her face as she continued. “Everyone knows that bounty hunters lack a delicate touch.”

Instead of countering her playful insult with one of his own, Din arched a suggestive brow while his brown eyes darkened with a sudden fiery desire. “Is that so? Kelir Ni tengaanar gar pehea laandur Ni liser cuyir, ner ori’atin riduur?”

Upon hearing her husband speaking Mando’a so seductively to her, a pleasant shiver ran down (Y/N)’s spine and she felt her face warm when his eyes darted down to watch her reflexively bite her lip. The smoldering expression on Din’s handsome face was momentarily overtaken by confusion when (Y/N) got to her feet and began walking away, and she couldn’t help but smirk as she stopped to look over her shoulder at him and planted a hand on her hip. “You coming, or do bounty hunters require a written invitation?”

Din, clearly opting to ignore his aching back, leapt to his feet at an almost inhuman speed and scooped her up into his arms with a chuckle, muffling her own giggles with a passionate kiss as he carried her into their bedroom and locked the door behind them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mando’a Translations:

Alor’ad-Captain Mir’sheb-Smart-ass Ner cyar’ika alor’ad-My darling captain Kelir Ni tengaanar gar pehea laandur Ni liser cuyir, ner ori’atin riduur?-Shall I show you how delicate I can be, my very stubborn wife?

A/N: I know that this chapter was on the sadder side but don't worry, the next one is wall-to-wall fluff! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! Oh, and I’ve created a Spotify playlist of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars, so if you’re interested in checking it out the link is down below!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Chapter Forty-Six Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty​ @sinon36​ @seninjakitey​​ @thatonedindjarinfan​​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​​ @mostclevermiss​​ @momc95​​ @welcometothepedroverse​​ @sarahjkl82-blog​​ @elinedjarin​​ @ccomandercody​​ @crowleysqueenofhell​​  @goldielocks2004 @wondergal2001​​ @groovyqueer​​ @impala1967666​​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​​ @icee228​​ @siimiasoi​​ @uncle-eggy​​ @amyg1509

[thecoffeelorian]

Chapter Title: The Bet

Word Count: 1,542 words.

Brief Description: Captain Howzer x Female Reader, Captain Howzer x Chandrilan Reader (Singular Love Interest). Just when you're one step away from getting onto the ship bound for Naboo...some unseen force of nature finally intervenes, and you then have to make the biggest decision of your life.

AO3: Link Here

Extra Notes: My Clone Trooper OC, Commander Miles, has his first speaking cameo in this story! Hope you all come to love him as much as I do!

Chapter Masterlist: Link Here

The No-Pressure Tag List: @skellymom @masterjedilenawrites @littlefeatherr @ceejay3636 @red-plaidedandcladed

@knightprincess @carlixz @zaryashame @amazonian-bae @badbatchjedi

@weirdest-lights @crosshair-lover @clxnewxrs @offspringsdaughter @liliskywalker

@sunshinefanfictioninsp @sunshinesdaydream @nerfpuncher @burningfieldof-clover @angrypaperearthquake-tbbb-main

@techhasmjolnir and anybody else who might want some more Howzer x Reader stories in their lives.

There's a cold chill growing upon the back of your neck as you step out of the line, your focus now trained solely upon this Trooper. Judging from the shape and placement of his pauldron, he's some kind of high command official, like a Captain or a Commander...and as of this moment, he just might be a few steps away from bringing you in for questioning.

“What seems to be the problem, sir?” Especially if, should your fears prove to be correct, your own father has found a way to keep you from leaving.

“Are you the eldest daughter of Julian Minola?” Which, apparently, he seems to have figured out right as you arrived at this spaceport.

“I...am an eldest daughter, Sir. Why do you ask?” In response, his right hand beg­ins to move toward his left wrist, a sure sign that you just might be one comm away from the lecture of your life. “Well, ma’am, I may have just received a message from your father—” “—It’s because of my father that I'm getting on board that ship, Captain...?” “Miles, ma’am. Commander Miles.” You're not about to give up so easily, though. Not when you're standing just a few steps away from literal freedom. “May I ask if you’re, ah...dealing with any trouble at home?” In fact, if you can speak well enough to the Trooper before you...would it perhaps, be a possibility that you end up convincing him to let you go?

“...Of a sort, Commander.”

“And that is?”

“Simple. I’m not staying in a place where I’ll be sold off to the highest bidder.”

At first, you see this Commander’s entire stance go rigid, and for a moment, you can almost swear he’s about to call your father to this very spot himself. Perhaps you might even deserve such a response as well, considering you were literally one sentence away from broaching a very uncomfortable topic of discussion.

There go your hopes of getting away blame-free. On the other hand...even though your supposed ‘place’ is within a gilded cage and his was once within the line of fire, just how different are the two of you at the end of the day? Isn’t it an odd coincidence that the both of you were raised for one purpose and one purpose only, whether or not you try to fight it in the end?

Furthermore, isn’t it a cold hard fact of life that women can die in the delivery room just as easily as men do on the battlefield, especially when the wrong people are left in charge? It certainly appears to be that way sometimes, what with the few but frightening tales about such things that you’ve read on the holonet late at night. Things that could easily happen to you or someone else you know, even if you all do your best to take the necessary precautions first.

Sure, you and your sister didn't come off of some genetic assembly line with countless other girls both ahead and behind you, but in the eyes of Chandrilan society, you’re not the first daughter to be married off and, chances are, you won't be the last for some time yet.

Not as long as there are more people around that cling to the old ways rather than changing or rejecting them.

It’s not that uncommon, either, for younger men on this planet to remarry within a few years of losing their first wives, if indeed ‘the worst’ should happen to them. According to a few old family stories, that was exactly how your father came to exist in the first place, as your paternal grandfather had once been married long before meeting your grandmother. Is it really too much to assume, then, that the both of you are replaceable?

“...Hm... and what about Captain Howzer?” Your line of thought is brought to a halt the moment this good commander chooses his next approach, and an unexpected one at that. “Who...?” ‘Howzer’? Who or what is that, some kind of obscure Trooper code word? “Captain Howzer, ma’am. The one who spoke to you earlier?” —Oh. Oh-h-h. So that was the interesting Trooper you just happened to meet in the middle of your escape. The one who didn’t look at you strangely or start asking you questions about where you were going, but just interacted with you instead like—like you weren’t something to be judged, or bothered by, and for that, you had started having—feelings. Awkward, yes...but still feelings.

You might have once thought that any and all of those awkward feelings had gone the moment that the two of you had gone your separate ways. Indeed, if the two of you were truly meant to never meet again, both you and that Captain might have eventually or gotten your first meeting, and so moved on with your lives. Now that you might, in fact end up speaking to him a second time, though...you feel that old heat rising in your cheeks all over again. “You...know each other?” “We’ve spoken before, all right.” A heat that could either excite you or embarrass you utterly, if it’s not dealt with in the correct manner. “So, then...what did he say about me?” But then again, there’s still your flight. Your one chance to trade Chandrila for Naboo, and it’s evident in the second pinging that you receive from your Comm. Can you really throw it all away now, just for somebody who might lose interest in you soon enough, if not also leave you behind instead? “Only that you were the kindest, sweetest lady he ever had the luck of meeting, and that he hopes you might yet return.” “ ‘Return’...?!” Can you really also run the future risk of some kind of complication when, or even if, whatever's waiting for you back home leads to the next generation of Minolas? “And how, Commander, do I end up explaining a change of heart to the Naboo University faculty? How do I explain it to the Queen?!” Oh, but your voice is getting shrill now, and perhaps also your bad temper right along with it. This wasn’t how things were supposed to end for you. This day wasn't supposed to be so jumbled, so confusing, as to send your mind into a tailspin. What, if anything, are you supposed to do with yourself now...? “Let me put it this way...” As though to answer you, the Commander touches a hand to his helmeted forehead, a single gesture might be a secret sign to remind you to calm down and think. “He’s eager to see you, that much is a given—but at the same time you’re eager to leave. I get that. I'm not going to make your decisions for you, ma’am, and you don’t have to listen to me if you don’t want to—but what if you were able to do both?” “ ‘Both’?” “Yep.” “How do I do both?” “Simple. You go back and listen to what he has to say, try whatever he offers for about a month...then, if it doesn’t work out for you, can go back to your original plan and leave for Naboo at your earliest convenience.” “What...you mean, like a bet?" “More of a trial run, really. That is, unless you’re willing to treat it like one?” “Hmm…” You absentmindedly finger the pouch full of credits hidden beneath your poncho, remembering the amount you'd saved up in secret before your escape. Would it be so wise to toss your money away upon a simple gamble, never mind a man who you don’t exactly know that well?

On the other hand, though...what if he did have a point here after all, and you ended up owing him instead? “...And what if I offered you five hundred credits as a reward, should I decide to stay?” The Commander becomes just a little bit flustered after hearing this, as he demonstrates the same nervous head-rubbing gesture that you’ve seen a handful of other Troopers do whenever they were stressed out or troubled. Clearly, you’ve given him a lot to think about in a short amount of time, if he hasn’t also done the same for you. “Well, I ah...I guess I would have to find a banker willing enough to open an account for me!” Nevertheless, if the possibility exists that Captain isn’t the only Trooper looking for a fresh restart in life, and as long as you yourself dislike the idea of an entire army getting left by the wayside— “Then I think you and I just might have a deal, Commander.” —Then let it be five hundred credits to start Commander Miles upon his way if he’s victorious, and if not, the longed-for flight to Naboo for you. “We may indeed, Miss Minola. Time to make it official.” Either way, the two of you seal the deal with a handshake, the sign of business in action...and then, just as the last of your three notifications comes, the commander finally motions to the pilot that she has full clear­ance to take off. Well, that's the end, perhaps, but only for now. For better or for worse, your one journey may be postponed, all right...but another journey seems to be just beginning, even if you can't exactly be too sure of the outcome just yet.

Maybe this time, though, if you keep a full heart and an open mind...you’ll be better prepared to see it through.

[ireallyamabear]

interesting that the native believes of the Dhani and of Ferrix get ridiculed and crushed by the Empire, while the native Chandrilan child-marriage ritualistic chants seem to be accepted and practiced relatively openly on Coruscant; which proves that the willingness to accept distinct cultural practices in imperial society is not about the quality of the practice itself, but of the social class and political power of the ones practicing it

[chipthekeeper]

Squigs mention in Tales of Light and Life

[jessequinnfirstofhername]

Got a little lost in the sauce on wookieepedia and realized that Chandrila is just Space Ancient Greece and Naboo is The Renaissance In Space

Naboo: The Renaissance In...

Space!

Do you know what just started making a lot more sense? This whole hairstyle up here ^^^

I don't really know much about Chandrila, but from what I do know, that sounds apt enough. A very astute observation about Naboo, though.

Again... Padme's fashion sense...

Padme, baby-girl, I have a lot of questions, and none of them are very polite.

I'm kidding, I low-key kinda love Padme's lewks.

[orsonkrennicgalenersotarkin]

ORSON KRENNIC GALEN ERSO TARKIN

MOFF TARKIN GAROCHE TARKIN RIVOCHE TARKIN

[homeinvadersfromchandrila]

HOBOS FROM CHANDRILA

[artofcodaleia]

Yesterday @claireonacloud and Aurelie from youtube channel Lucasfilles talked about Ben in a Chandrilan outfit...

Hence this quick sketch :)

[thecoffeelorian]

Chapter Title: The Proposal

Word Count: 1,185.

Brief Description: Captain Howzer x Female Reader, Captain Howzer x Chandrilan Reader (Singular Love Interest). As you return home under the watch of Commander Miles, you're expecting nothing less than the worst lecture of your life. However, the same force of nature that stopped your escape isn't quite done with you yet...

AO3: Link Here

Extra Notes: This was sitting in my drafts for a literal forever (maybe 3 months), but now it's here, so...I hope you all enjoy it, because all the good stuff is around the corner! ;)

Chapter Masterlist: Link Here

The No-Pressure Tag List:

@yoitsjay @gun-roswell @skellymom @masterjedilenaaa @littlefeatherr

@knightprincess @crosshair-lover @yeehawhijack @etod @ci-avmovies14 and anyone else interested in more stories about this Clone Captain!

“Hello…? Is zis thing on?”

“Reading you loud and clear, Captain.  What’s your status?”

“Optimistic.”

The comm between Commander Miles and Captain Howzer—the Trooper that you had the curious luck of meeting in the street not thirty minutes ago—is on full playback now, along with everything you just agreed to do in order to watch it.

And wouldn’t you know it, you’re trying your hardest not to stare too long at that smaller blue version of your Captain.

“I’ve just spoken with the master of ze ‘ouse, and I do believe we’ve come to a sort of, er…agreement.”

Agreement.

Really.

You wonder for a moment about what sort of agreement could ever be made between him and “Daddy”, considering he certainly wasn’t ever that negotiable with you.  Not since he’d found a way to keep both you and Briana single forever, whether either one of you liked it or not.

And if that’s not making you feel awkward enough...then being led back to your home like you’re some kind of escaped prisoner, with or without the vibrocuffs, has certainly put the stomp back into your step. Sure wish I could have made an agreement with him…not that he’ll listen.

In fact, there’s a flush of annoyance rising in your face as the Sergeant escorts you back through the streets of the Eastern District, the area of Chandrila where all of the once-active wartime industries can be found as well as your home territory.  These great producers of weapons, navigation devices, and other equipment will no doubt be shuttering their doors soon, thanks to that double surprise of Palpatine’s tragic accident and the gradual end of the war that followed…and so far, that’s not counting your family’s own business. Not yet.

“Is that so?”

“Yes. He’ll just need a certain lady back under ‘is roof in order to, er… finalize the plans.”

As for yourself, if the building storm within you is any indication of your own future—

“And in return?”

“We recover a lost asset.”

—Then your own smaller war is just beginning, and you start feeling the weight of it as soon as you’re standing back before your own front door, the Commander rapping upon the gilded knocker to get the attention of whomever may be listening.

“One moment…!”

A few parsecs later, that whomever turns out to be your housekeeper, an elder Twi’lek known as Orinna, who just happens to meet you and your escort the moment the door is opened. “Y/N Katherina Minola!” A small feeling of guilt pangs through your body as you take in her change of expression from pain to confusion, you having said what should have been your goodbyes not one hour earlier. “Just what are you doing with zis man?!” 

In fact, she must be properly furious at you for playing her for a fool, sneaking away without any protection, and putting the rest of the household into a panic—and that’s just without you also feeling a little angry at yourself for lying to her.

“…Well, um…it’s like this…” After all, since she gladly stepped in to give you some extra maternal support after the death of your mother, she certainly deserves better treatment than the kind you’re giving.

Nevertheless, the good Commander takes all of this drama in his stride, for he doesn’t think twice about removing his helmet and addressing her directly.

“Apologies, ma’am, but I was just escorting this nice young lady home to meet her future.”

Orinna’s mixed reaction soon turns to one better suggesting curiosity, a thing you can determine by the slight raising of her eyebrows.

“ ‘Er future…?  Whatever do you mean?”

“I believe Commander Miles was referring to me, ma’am.”

It’s not that long before you feel your own eyebrows go up as you hear that all-too-familiar voice speak up from behind her, and with it, the breath goes out of your body.

There he is.

Captain Howzer.

The man you saw in the street, over the comm system, and as soon as Orinna is careful to step aside to give him room…standing right inside your doorway.

“Welcome back, Miss Minola.”

Only this time, now he can also see your face plainly without the guise or protection of any hoods…and, quite unlike the “interested” young men you’ve spoken to before, this time, he’s actually not just speaking at you, but to you.

“I trust zat your journey back ‘ome was not a difficult one?”

Is it any wonder, then, that you feel your legs wobble ever so slightly at the sight of his smile…?  Is it all that mysterious that your heart rate has gone up a few notches solely because of one glance from his direction?  It must not be that surprising for someone with his looks, because he could look perfect standing in a mud puddle, and even worse—he knows it. What a clever, brazen bunch these Troopers must be!

“N…No, Captain,” you hear yourself say, almost whimpering out your reaction.  “I—I had help.”

Commander Miles takes this as his cue to join Howzer upon the steps, each of them gripping the other’s hand in an enthusiastic greeting.

“What d’you think, Cap?  Is she a keeper?”

Howzer looks back at you a second time, and with it, you feel your heart start to beat a little harder.  Does he see that smattering of acne scars left over from your teenage years, or are they no longer visible…?  What about that little scar upon your forehead from where you fell as a toddler?  Would he take both of these things as a part of you and accept them, or turn you away in disgust instead?

“The finest keeper in all of Coruscant!”

Oh, Force help you, he likes you.  Your face must be as hot as a sunrise on Mustafar by now, and you can barely keep yourself steady—and he likes you.   This feeling grows by degrees as he bravely takes your hand and raises it to his lips, thus proving himself to be the officer and gentleman both on this fated morning.

“I thank you for returning to us, Miss Minola.  Will you be staying ‘ere, then…?” In return, you’re just barely in control of yourself in time to start playing the lady, the rest of the people around you almost completely forgotten.

“As long as I’m able, er…Captain…but may I ask, if it’s not too out of the ordinary…why?”

“For the same reason any gentleman of Chandrila would wish to meet a lady.”

He uses this moment to release your hand; then, after withdrawing a few steps, raises both of his own with the palms up in an offering to you.

“Now that I have had ze ‘onor of meeting you face-to-face, I am therefore moved to ask for your hand in marriage.”

For a few blissful seconds, you’re staring into those sweet brown eyes, and finding yourself one breath away from accepting him as your future husband.

Then…you see your father walking out onto the front stoop with a look of wild glee upon his face, and reality strikes.

**********

Parting Thoughts: ...If there is anyone who used to get regular notifications about this story, but suddenly is not...that's because I either didn't get any further reactions from you in my last update, or you missed my poll and interest check from yesterday morning.

So, if there are other readers out there who didn't make the tag list up above, then please PLEASE leave this emoji (👩‍🎤) in the reblogs/reblog tags, because it might be the only way for me to contact you, and I kinda want an accurate count of readers, too!

Thanks for your time, and have a great day!

[hegodamask]

The Naboo      🤝          Chandrilans                                                                       Electing teenagers into government

[sw5w]

This Vote is Very Important

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:04:05

[anotherclassicpretence]

Based on Andor's heavy use of parallels, I think they will use the Pilgrimage on Chandrila (that Vel mentioned she's attending) as a contrast for the one at Aldhani.

Either it'll show the stark difference: Chandrila, a prosperous Core world, will have a large-scale, uninhibited Pilgrimage, without any interference from the Empire. Its practice may even be considered sacred or at least venerable instead of an "outdated ritual". Nobody will sit around being gleeful that the number of pilgrims are decreasing every time.

Or, it's also possible that Chandrila, despite being so prominent, is facing the same erosion of faith and light that is being attempted by the Empire everywhere. A sterilisation nobody can escape.

Both would make very strong points, I hope this is brought up. Especially since Vel is the only character who has witnessed both.

[swan-orpheus]

Just had a thought upon hearing that Vel is running away from her rich family. Considering we know some wealthy Chandrilans and presuming that she may or may not be using a false name:

Mon Mothma, Perrin Fertha, Tay Kolma, Vel Sartha. Certainly sounds like Vel could be Chandrilan.  Is she Mon’s older daughter or perhaps a younger sister or else a cousin? The ‘th’ in her last name certainly makes me suspect that she is more closely related to Mon and Perrin than to Tay, that this is deliberate. I mean of course it is. They’ve clearly planned this show out exceedingly well from the sets to the costumes, the symbolism.