#I made her lekku longer

[liatorii]

I did it! My piece for @karin848 for the amazing @starwars-arttrade-2023 !

Your love for Ashoka has inspired me :D hope she’s cozy enough!

[mangomakoshark]

Me, *watching Ahsoka*: yay they made Ahsoka's lekku longer!

Huyang: *speaks*

Me: DAVID TENNANT?!?!

[lamaenthel]

Bite Down On This

[read on ao3] [Febuwhump prompt: "Bite Down On This"]

Bly has to do the unthinkable to his General to save her life after a mortar strike wipes out their company.

Characters: CC-5052|Bly, Aayla Secura, Quinlan Vos Wordcount: 868

" …hear me? Bly? Bly, are you alive?"

Bly blinks, takes a deep breath, and almost passes out again. He's face-down in a pile of… something. Something that smells like copper, fire, and human shit. He pushes himself up, his head spinning, and vomits on top of the bisected abdomen of the clone trooper he landed on.

"Get up!" He's yanked sideways, dragged on his back away from the body. Bodies. They're everywhere, he can see that now. "Get it together trooper, I need you."

"Yes, General," Bly tries to say; it comes out more of a blurry, slurred yrrrs gurnnnll.

"Hold on, Blue. We're coming. I got him. See? You were worried for nothing." General Vos tugs him up and forces him to walk on nerveless legs.

"Bly?" His stomach flips at how weak she sounds. "Oh, Bly, I—ah!" She breaks off with a shriek of agony. His stomach flips again.

"We're here. We're here, Blue." General Vos lets go of Bly's cuirass and drops down beside her. "I'm so sorry, honey. This is going to hurt. Bite down on this and take a deep breath, okay?"

Bly focuses on not falling down. His brain is unscrambling, reassembling his memories like scattered puzzle pieces. Aayla was leading their small scouting company from the front, trying to keep up with her old Master's massive stride. Bly was bringing up the rear, avoiding Vos and the looks he kept throwing over his shoulder. There was a whistle over their heads, then…

Mortar! Spread out!

He was at the rear. She was at the front. He was thrown back. She…

"It's okay, Blue. I know, I'm sorry it hurts. I've got you." Vos tightens the tourniquet around her ruined leg, right above what used to be her knee. 

They had some sausages once on Dantooine, made from roba hogs by the locals. They were so grateful for the Republic's arrival. They donated crates upon crates of fresh meat, vegetables, and fragrant blue rice. They'd never eaten so well. Aayla helped them all find sticks to cook the sausages on over the bonfire—her skin glows like midnight in the firelight—and laughed like a bell when he burned his mouth. 

Bard had overcooked his sausage. The end had burst open and split apart in strips, just like Aayla's leg.

"Get down here, Commander." General Vos adjusts them so that Aayla is cradled in his lap, his tree-trunk legs sticking straight out. He puts a hand on her forehead and whispers something Bly can't hear. Her head falls to the side, lekku drooping limp and lifeless. "Take my lightsaber and cut above the tourniquet," Vos orders, tossing it to the dirt in front of him. 

Bly's legs give out. He falls hard onto his shebs, head spinning. "What?"

"You heard me, Commander." Aayla stirs to life in his arms. Vos scowls and closes his eyes. "Sleep," he orders her, loud enough for Bly to hear this time.

There's two sabers laying in the dirt in front of him. Bly unsteadily reaches for the one on the right, grabs a handful of dirt instead. 

"Now!" Vos growls at him. "Sleep." His voice turns gentle when it's directed at her. He's like a father to me. "Good girl. It'll be over soon."

Aayla is dripping sweat and drooling around the leather strap her Master shoved in her mouth. Her head tosses from side to side, struggling to stay awake. Her lekku come to life only to curl up in tight, distressed spirals.

"I…" Bly swallows down a second surge of vomit. They need a medic. Where's their medic? He suddenly remembers the paintjob of the trooper he woke up on.

"Do it!" The Kiffar General—both of them—shoots him a glare that could melt beskar. "I can't keep her unaware much longer, Commander, she's fighting too hard. Do it before she wakes up!"

"Wake up, Commander," she whispers, her lek curling lovingly around his wrist. She trails a graceful finger down his nose, tickles his lips, chases the touch with a delicate kiss. 

"Do it, now!"

Bly pushes the button, goes blind from the green light. He blinks away the spots, stares down at his Aayla's beautiful leg—she hooks it over his hip, uses it to pull him closer as she cries out his name—and stops. "I can't," he says hoarsely. "I can't hurt a Jedi." My Jedi.

"You want her to be awake and screaming while you cut her leg off?" Vos' fury is incandescent, burning like a corona. "Do it, you useless son of a bitch!"

Bly's double vision isn't helped by his tears. "I can't."

"If you don't I will fucking gut you." Vos means it, but he still can't bring himself to bring down the beam. "Do it now, or so help me—"

"Bly," Aayla whimpers around the strap. Her big, beautiful brown eyes flicker open.

"SLEEP." Vos mouths the command directly against her ear cone. Her eyes close, her head falls limply to the side. Vos' eyes meet Bly's, and his vision is finally steady enough to see that the Kiffar is crying. "Do it. Do it while she's asleep, I'm begging you." 

Bly swallows hard, nods, and brings down the blade.

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @febuwhump, @soliloquy-of-nemo Divider: @saradika-graphics

[chicknstripz]

I would like the prompt "I dare you to fuck Wolffe." 😌 i'm being a thot tonight

∘₊✧ The hare and the Wolffe ✧₊∘

Pairing|| Fem!Reader X Wolffe Word Count|| 1621 Tags|| Accepting a dare, UNHINGED FILTH, Smut, Implied penetration, dirty talk, Wolffe being Wolffe Synopsis|| You should have known that accepting a dare from your trouble making friends was a bad idea, a very 'bad' idea indeed , but how can you say no when it involves a certain commander?

You exhale a sigh as you examine your makeup in the mirror, the faint beads of condensation mocking your calm exterior.

It’s been months since you’ve had a girls night out, the long nights and even longer days sapping your energy to such an extent that getting out of bed was a challenge. Even now you can feel the ache in your shoulders, the muscles tense from hours of wielding heavy blasters - so tense you imagined you could see it if you looked hard enough! Maker, you looked tired! The lines that crinkled your eyes deepening with your sigh as you splashed water to your face.

You needed a drink!

With any luck your friends would have one waiting for you, the dimmed lights of the ‘fresher giving way to the neon of 79s. You’d never been one for clubs, the pulse of the bass vibrating most annoyingly in your back teeth, but you’d put up with it if it meant hanging out with Sella and Tri’ya. They always knew how to make you smile, their antics washing away the worst of the way, and tonight was no different, their bright faces greeting you as you returned to the table.

“There you are! We were about to send out a search party!”

You rolled your eyes at Sella’s joke, the lilt of her voice merging perfectly with the music.

“I wasn’t gone that long, honestly.”

Sella and Tri’ya shared a smile, the kind that told you they were up to no good.

“Long enough that you almost missed your turn”

“My what now?”

Tri’ya pointed to the half empty pitcher in the center of the table, the tips of her lekku catching the light as they danced about her shoulders.

“We decided to indulge in a game of truth or dare, and it’s your turn.”

You scoffed as you settled into your chair, the glow of the alcohol only adding to the fizzy feeling in your gut. It was never a good idea to share your secrets with the girls, their big mouths spilling every story you told regardless of their intentions. It wasn’t a good idea to accept a dare either, their ideas growing more outrageous with every year that passed, but it was admittedly easier to deal with momentary embarrassment - so dare it was.

“Fine, fine! Dare!”

“I dare you to fuck Wolffe!”

Wolffe? You follow the length of her arm, the slender tips of her fingers guiding your gaze toward the corner of the room. The trooper that stood there was dark and brooding, the set of his brow so intense it made you wonder why he was here in the first place. Even his lips had that disapproving look, the tight press growing all the tighter as he watched a brother clamber onto a table. Perhaps a brother had dragged him here? It was certainly the most logical explanation, your heart skipping a beat as you watched him cross his arms over his chest.

“You want me to do what now?”

“Fuck Wolffe.”

“But I don’t even know him!”

“That doesn’t stop Sella, and besides ... you could use a good fuck.”

You still don’t know how you’re supposed to ‘fuck him’, especially when he doesn’t look the ‘meaningless fuck’ type. It’s in the eyes you decide. The soft glint in his mis-matched eyes betraying a man who appreciates deep loyalty. He’d want someone to share his pains with, to talk with in the long hours of the night when everyone else was asleep. To guard his secrets and protect his brothers. A fierce soul who more than matched his gruff outer, and maker if you wished you was it - your throat constricting as Tri’ya shoved you in his direction.

“Go on, off you go!”

You stumble forward like a newborn gazelle, your legs at odds with your body as you dance around a laughing trooper. It’s hardly a great first impression, but it’s not like you’re not looking to make one, your indignation growing as you flash a sour look over your shoulder. You’ll get Tri’ya back for this one day! As the maker is your witness you’ll make her pay for this crazy dare! You swallow as you move close to your target, noticing more and more details as you do so. He’s broad, impossibly so, the cut of his gray uniform making your mouth water as the man beside him looks your way.

“Sir, we’ve got company.”

Wolffe doesn’t turn as he looks your way, the bored side eye turning inquisitive as he gives you a quick once over.

“Can we help you, neverd?”

You’re not familiar with the term, but you are familiar with the tone - the low husk he rounds his consonants with making your legs quiver with anticipation.

“Actually, yes you can. I was wondering if I could borrow you for the rest of the night”

The man beside Wolffe elbows him in the side, his eyes dancing with delight as he heckles his commanding officer.

“Borrow him? Why? He’s no fun at all. Me on the other hand ... ”

“Sinker.”

The low growl cuts off Sinker’s attempt to seduce you, his casual stance snapping to attention at Wolffe’s interjection.

“Right sir, sorry sir! If you need me I’ll be at the barracks.”

Wolffe watches him with an unbothered look, the dancing lights reflecting in his cybernetic eye. You hadn’t noticed it from afar, far more distracted by his looks. But now? You’re in awe of it, the way the purples and pinks flash across its milky surface near hypnotic. He exhales a huff, rolls it - the shimmy of dancing light broken by the movement - and turns away, the action more frustrated than annoyed.

“You got me alone nerved, now what?”

Quite honestly you hadn’t expected to get this far, your disbelief only matched by his magnetic aura. Stars he was attractive! The subtle lighting highlighting the soft line of his jaw, and the scars that peppered his dark skin.

“I was thinking we could have a little fun, spice the night up a bit?”

He gives you a measured look, then quirks the corner of his lip - a little side smirk that makes your stomach slip as you realize he’s on to you.

“And which friend put you up to this?”

“The pretty Twi two tables over”

He averts his gaze with a hum, his expression unimpressed as he examines your friend. The sane part of your brain reminds you you’ve interrupted his night, that he’s likely not interested in childish dares. The other? It delights in the idea that he might think you're prettier than your friend, your face burning red hot as he extends an arm toward you.

“Can’t disappoint now, can we?”

If you didn’t know any better you’d say he was trying to save you the embarrassment of walking back to your table. His teasing tone at total odds with his stern expression.

“It’s not her you'd disappoint if you said no.”

Wolffe clucks as you slip your fingers into the crook of his arm, the muscle beneath flexing at the contact. He’s well built, sturdy, everything you could ever want from a man, and you wish this was real - the thrum of the music mixing with your arousal as he guides you through the bar. At first you’re not quite sure where he’s taking you, having never been to this part of the building before, but the more you look around the more you realize he’s taking you to the rumored back rooms.

“Is that so? Well, we can’t have that either.”

The way his voice dips makes you combust on the spot, the firm press of his hand guiding you into a room that might be called romantic if it wasn’t for its gaudy decor. Deep red paint lines the walls, the hue interrupted by scrapes and stains - reminders of the couples who’ve spent their nights here. Against one wall, a leather couch, its cushions suspiciously clean. The other is a bed, it’s proud posts also showing the marks of previous conquests, and you might have made a comment about it if Wolffe hadn’t pulled you to his chest.

“I -- You don’t have to do anything -- it was just a dare.”

“Never accept a dare if you can’t handle getting caught, little hare.”

You inhaled as his teeth brushed your skin, the hot exhale of his breath soothing the sharp pain that tingles its way up your neck.

“Mmmmm, I could just devour you whole. You smell so good!”

The flat of his tongue follows, the euphoric sensation drawing a moan from your lips as he slips his leg between yours. It forces you to widen your stance, the subtle hem that decorates his pants barely enough to rouse your arousal. It doesn’t stop you from rocking against him like a horny teenager, the desperation growing as he splays his warm hand across your stomach.

“That’s it mesh’la, rub your gorgeous scent all over my thigh.”

His other hand explores your body with the patience of a saint, the slow sweep following your dips and curves. Your shoulders, your breasts, your waist, then back up again, each touch purposeful as he maps your erogenous zones. You gasp when he ghosts your fingers along your neck, his teeth taking their place as he sweeps his hand downward. You shiver and moan when he tweeks a nipple, the sensations making it harder to control your breathing. You whimper when he manhandles your waist, the wet patch you’ve left on his pants chilling his skin as you gyrate against him.

“Please ...”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

He barks out a laugh, the sound muffled by your heated skin.

“Well, Since you asked so nicely.”

[ahsokasupremacy]

My thoughts on the new Ahsoka trailer that just dropped a few days ago:

Interesting, looks like it’s a race to find Thrawn. Maybe this is what the cast meant when they said the show could go on for another season?

“We are no Jedi.” Makes me think that we might actually get a pro-Jedi arc instead of Filoni’s Gray Jedi agenda? Or is that too hopeful?

Hera looks good! As expected, Mary Elizabeth Winstead is killing it and fits right into the character. Y’all are just haters

The green eye contacts are a bit 👁️👄👁️ though Kinda reminds me of the Miley Cyrus blue eyes meme

Hilariously enough, Hera’s lekku look way better than Ahsoka’s. Not her getting eaten up in her own show

Hera and Ahsoka interaction, 10/10. +++

Ahsoka looks a bit more like herself without the cloak covering her shoulders (sorry, I can’t recognize Ahsoka unless the guns are out).

I can kinda see what the actress is going for, and she does fit the vibes of battle-hardened Rebels Ahsoka. Still sorta wish they recast her with Laura Harrier though

ANAKIN mention had me going feral... please, Hayden Christensen, be in here for longer than five seconds...

“Just like I walked away from Sabine” WOW JUST STAB ME IN THE HEART WHY DON’T YOU

SABINE IS SO HOT AUGHSKMS I AM SO GAY

“You never made things easy for me…Master” GHFKSKSMKDKD??? CASUAL LORE DROP??? Does this mean we are getting Jedi Sabine?

Thrawn looks a lot better than I was expecting him to be in live action, thank god. Whoever decided to give him eyebrows? You are my savior.

SABINE CUT HER HAIR AGAIN AKSMXMDMDD I AM GAYER NOW

The evil guy namedropped Anakin personally? Okay… interesting, would like to find out how they know each other

Overall, super excited to see what the show will bring. Huge improvement in the Montrals prosthetics, and looking forward to see a women-centric Star Wars show. I'm calling it, everyone is gonna be Team Hera/Soka by the end of this.

[littlemissmanga]

OLLO!

IM HERE FOR THE OC X OC SHIPPING

I give thee...👀

Kan-ri Eliriim !

Kan-ri is a red-orange Torguta with grey montral/lekku, grey eyes and is in her mid-late 20s. Her Togruta markings make a "mask" around her eyes, large egg shapes on cheeks and small egg shapes on forehead.

She's a nomadic artist that lives on her ship with her R4-R5 astromech, BeepBop. Her ship and droid are decked in art of places they've been, that she's made.

Kan-ri is playful, go with the whim, doesnt like being restrained, dislikes killing but will shoot if she needs to. She goes where she wants, war wont stop her

Romantic or Platonic ship, your choice 😘💜

Here's a drawing I did of her

Sorry for the lack of colour, I haven't digitally done this drawing yet 😅

OK first, your drawing is adorable!!! And can I say I'm jealous over how clean your linework is?

Moving on, I think she'd naturally be great friends with Corkscrew. Pilots appreciate pilots and he'd also love the expression and creativity of Kan-ri's artwork. He respects the heck out of Kan-ri's lifestyle and is a little jealous of the freedom and new opportunity her travels bring her. And he thinks she's incredibly brave for choosing such a life. He's also impressed by her independence and confidence.

Every so often, he'll want to plan adventures with her and just go exploring.

He appreciates her compassion and gentle heart and absolutely sees her as "close friend, must protect" so he can be heavy handed when warning her about pirates or other dangers in areas she's looking to travel to.

All Kan-ri has to do is comm him "Help, I need you" and he's there with whichever brothers he can rally. She'll never be truly alone because Corkscrew will never let her be.

Also ... I feel like they'd hook up. Maybe just once, or maybe a little longer FWB type thing, but I think Cor would eventually want something more structured/settled and they would call it quits (he doesn't love sex without feeling and he wouldn't be able to move on if they were still intimate) but they would still be supportive, solid friends after.

I hope you like these hcs!!

[marvelwars101]

they made ahsoka’s lekku longerrr

so i found this on twitter from a behind the scenes shot from Ahsoka at the Celebration. They made her lekku longer YESSS

[reneeofthestars]

Made for @kyjoraven #dtiys ! I may have gotten a bit carried away. It was so much fun, but took WAY longer than I was expecting. Still, I'm really happy with the overall result. Congratulations on 3k (now 4k)!!

Tara Ohvala belongs to Kyjoraven. 

Click on the image for better quality.

A brief fic to accompany this below the cut! 

*

The lounge went dark as the stage lights came on, and as polite applause filled the air, Gida felt the anticipation in the room surge. Only it had nothing to do with the band that was beginning to play.

For as glitzy and glamorous as the patrons were, they welcomed this cover of darkness. The shift in atmosphere was palpable to her;  all the surreptitious emotions that Gida had sensed lurking just beneath the cheerful, pleasant facades seemed to finally creep forward.

Gida took a sip of her drink - a fizzy, tangy juice that the bartender seemed pleased to have available. The Jedi Council had sent her and three other Jedi to discover if there was a possible Separatist mole in the Republic Senate. One thing led to another, and with a nice bit of detective work from Tara Ohvala, here they were, dressed in very un-Jedi-like outfits, waiting and watching. It was quite the change of pace from fighting droids.

Across from Gida sat Tara. The Mirialan was newly Knighted, having only been a fully fledged Jedi for less than a year, but she already seemed so poised and capable. And pretty. Gida looked away quickly before Tara caught her staring.

Up at one of the circular bars, Masters Eeth Koth and Teyla Marin leaned against the counter, turned towards the stage. But Gida knew their attention was everywhere except the beautiful music. It wasn't often that Gida and Master Teyla worked with a member of the Council, but Tara's former master had proved easy to like.

Gida caught herself rocking to the crooning singer and stilled, bringing her mind back to the task at hand with a sigh. She had thought this would be the easy part - sense for dubious or malicious intent, find the mole.

"Have you sensed something?" Tara asked quietly, raising her drink.

Gida shook her head, lekku falling behind her. "Only that we're going to be here a while."

Behind them, an argument had broken out over a game of sabacc. A Kel Dor in a rich cloak jabbed a finger at an offronted Umbaran, cursing him colorfully in what sounded like Huttesse. The Kel Dor was a well into his cups, and his vices made him angry; it bubbled and popped like lava. The Togruta between them acted in a placating manner, but Gida could feel the way he relished framing the Umbaran.

A Wookiee roared with laughter to her left, causing a brief pause in the performance before the band regained their composure and continued. Gida jumped, but not at the noise - at the sudden crash of rage from him that the laughter masked.

Nearby and older couple slow danced to the music. The Nautolan woman rested her head against the Theelin man's chest as they swayed in a slow circle. Calm certainty radiated from them, clashing oddly against the Wookiee's fury, still disguised by a wide smile.

A Tholothian dressed in what could be military garb stalked past, with an elegant Rodian woman whispering rapidly to him. Their whirlwind of emotions left Gida dizzy.

But it was all too much - the hem of her dress was too itchy, the shoes too blocky, it was too loud, too crowded, too many emotions, too, too too -

Gida ducked her head and squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her fingers to her temples. She let it all wash over her, all the emotions that twisted her gut and boiled her blood and made her want to draw her lightsaber or run --

They aren't mine, and they have no place with me.

She let out a controlled breath, and felt the onslaught of emotions lessen. When she opened her eyes, she was re-entered in the Force. A note of approval reached the edge of her senses. Master Teyla had noticed. It had been easier to manage this time. So much easier than when on the battlefield...

Gida took another drink, reaching out with the Force, and feeling the others do the same. They would know when they found their mark.

[beskar-candy]

soft around you (x 2)

i keep seeing plus-sized reader fics that dive into body image issues, internalised fatphobia, etc, and i completely respect the significance of those for other people but it’s just not for me. i wanted to offer something more body neutral, or at least try to. i am a beginner writer so pls be gentle! no beta, we die like death watch mandalorians.

relationship: din djarin x gender neutral reader x twi'lek female OC

rating: E, yes this gets spicy so 18+ only or ELSE.

words: 6.6k. oops

contains: plus-sized gender neutral reader described as little as possible other than having more surface area to love and also joint pain and hands smaller than din’s (man’s got big ass hands), polyamory but make it beginners' edition, accidental acquaintances to lovers, bisexual besties only half joking about wanting to date each other, developing big feelings very fast, minimal foreplay and saliva as makeshift lube, protected penetrative intercourse in vague and hopefully gender neutral terms, strong violence and wounding, some angst, din gets harmed by a culturally significant weapon but it’s discussed in detail, warning for discussion of the Great Purge of Mandalore which was essentially colonialism and genocide so please do not read if that doesn’t support your mental health journey

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

When you first laid eyes on Din, the first thing that struck you was how strong he is. Not chiselled and lean in the way dehydrated holo-vid stars are, but actually strong – beneath his well-fed belly is the strength of a warrior. You hadn’t meant to look, of course. You’ve met Mandalorians before – unavoidable, really, in your line of work. You would never actively try to get a peek under the beskar without consent, as some had definitely seemed to care more than others about remaining covered at all times. Plenty of cultures in the galaxy have similar customs. But it was your responsibility as a weapons smith and shop co-owner to tend to injured customers, wasn’t it? Especially if the injury was inflicted with one of your weapons, and the injured customer got beaten halfway to Mustafar before deciding to simply hurl his assailant’s entire body into your merchandise and earn his reward in under a minute. Such misunderstandings are common on Nevarro, affectionately known across the system as the bounty hunter's haven. Yes, you were only being a decent and sensible person. It had nothing at all to do with how that mirror-like helmet had held your gaze for several seconds longer than socially necessary. How the visor seemed to sweep every hill and valley of your generously shaped body. Or how his gloved hands seem to completely engulf yours. Or... well. You were just being a good person.

One hour before

You huff out a breath of exhaustion and wipe your sweat-dampened face with the backs of your hands. The dim light of the workshop isn’t helping your tired eyes, and there seems to always be smudges of blaster oil on every surface despite your constant cleaning. You stretch towards the ceiling slowly, having made your peace with the ache in your back and neck a long time ago. “Nyx?” you croak. The Twi’lek bookkeeper and co-owner pops her head around the doorway with eyebrows raised. “I’m going to snap at the next customer who asks me to repair thirteen pre-Imperial blaster pistols in a standard day. I might just snap at the next customer, period,” you groan pitifully, pressing your forehead flat against your workbench. Nyx gives you a sympathetic smile, and you turn to watch her tilt her head in amusement, her long blue lekku swaying gracefully with her movement. “Drinks at the Guild cantina?” she asks knowingly, more of a statement than a question. You shoot up rapidly to meet her gaze, light having returned to your eyes. Her laughter rings out through the stagnant air as she wraps her arms around your strong neck from behind. “Thought so,” she murmurs into your ear, pressing a soft kiss against your oil-smudged cheek.

“Nyx?”

“Yes, my love?”

You plop your ample chin into your hands, elbows propped against the workbench for support. “Date me,” you suggest half-earnestly. She grins, all pearly teeth and twinkling eyes as she steps backwards as if to check you out for the first time. You ignore your heart as it flip-flops under her mirthful gaze.

“I’m a hot commodity. You’ll have to make an appointment first.”

She wiggles her eyebrows as you gasp in faux offence, but can’t quite keep yourself from matching her grin. It is at that moment that blaster fire echoes outside, ricochets pinging off your front windows.

Nyx grabs your hand reflexively and you both scurry towards the source of the noise. Excitement seems to vibrate in the air – an overconfident quarry about to have their shit rocked no doubt – when a towering, broad man covered in head to toe beskar stumbles through your doorway. It has to be the most of the metal you’ve ever seen on one person. His breastplate heaves from exertion as he presses his back to the wall by the door, withdrawing a well-loved but otherwise pristine blaster from its holster. “Armorer, I need you to stay there,” he rumbles through his helmet’s vocoder, eyes never leaving the doorway. His deep rasp strikes your nerves like lightning, wavering somewhere between anxiety and arousal. Ordinarily you would say something snarky about being able to defend yourself, but somehow it didn’t come across as patronising – more that he just didn’t want to be interrupted. Besides, that much pure beskar only means your day is about to get more interesting. And nobody had ever addressed you as an ‘armorer’ before. Certainly not in such a... pleasing voice. Nyx side-eyes you curiously, but you just shrug and squeeze her hand reassuringly as you both remain in place by the credits register.

As if on cue, a young humanoid man in tattered and bloodstained clothes runs in, noticeably favouring his left leg. You muster a polite customer service smile and nod in his direction as the hulking shadow of the armoured man silently approaches him from behind.

“Pardon me, esteemed weapons smith, did you happen to see a certain bounty hunter that-”

The Mandalorian strikes him sharply in the back of the head before the man can finish his sentence. The young man crumples halfway to the floor onto his injured knee. His wince echoes through the room. A small smile grows on your face as the Mandalorian silently retreats a step, an apex predator winding back in preparation to pounce. Surprisingly, the bedraggled man manages to block the beskar vambrace as it comes crashing down on him. He staggers to his feet and lands a well-aimed jab at the Mandalorian’s unprotected side, before landing several other shots to the gaps in the beskar. Nyx’s grip on your hand tightens almost painfully. The Mandalorian takes a few steps backwards, seemingly surprised but relatively unaffected by the blows, before lunging and landing several of his own. The two go back and forth until the young man draws a nasty-looking dagger from his boot, and they struggle for a moment until he manages to sink it into the larger man’s thigh. The Mandalorian lets out a grunt and clasps his injured leg for a moment. The quarry takes the opportunity to slide across the floor beneath him and smash his captor’s helmet against the ground hard, the deafening clang making you jolt in shock. It’s messy and inelegant, but the smaller man continues to land blow after blow, managing to inflict a couple more cuts to areas unprotected by beskar.

A chill flows down your spine as you recognise the blade in his unrelenting grip. Just two standard weeks ago, a slightly dodgy local antique dealer had sold you a small chunk of unrefined beskar alloy. Having assessed it to be genuine with your magnifying lens, you’d bought it at a bargain, gleeful at his ignorance of its true value. You had relished being able to practice the highly technical smithing techniques you’d learned over the years from a kind, older Mandalorian lady who had frequented your shop before she'd moved away. You had relished the opportunity to make something for the sheer enjoyment of it instead of credits. You’d then gifted it to a Mandalorian customer passing through from off-world and promptly gotten on with your day. It clearly had not remained with them.

You freeze in place, horror and regret boiling inside you as the Mandalorian’s blood begins to seep through his armorweave onto the concrete floor. You have sometimes had the misfortune of seeing people wounded or killed by weapons you made or handled, but this was different. This was much worse, knowing what beskar meant to his people. Adrenaline thrums through your veins as you watch the beskar-clad man stoically attempt to block the onslaught of blows, the young man clearly invigorated by what he thinks is an imminent victory over his hunter. Just when you are starting to think it’s over for the Mandalorian, he rolls clear of the quarry and rises from the ground to throw his attacker’s body clear across the room. The young man unceremoniously crashes into your ammunition display and knocks over several catalogue stands. He rolls halfway onto his back and groans, but before he can regain his composure, the hunter elbows him in the nose hard enough that the crack of his head against the floor echoes off the walls. The man on the floor goes motionless. Seemingly unsatisfied, the Mandalorian slowly and carefully pulls a beskar spear from where it was tied to his back, before shoving it clean through the man’s leg for good measure. The hunter, holding one gloved hand to the worst of the wounds in his side, manages to clasp the binders shut with the other. Once the quarry is restrained, he removes the spear in one practiced movement, then bends down to collect the beskar dagger that had spilled so much of his blood.

You instantly tug your hand free and run to him on pure instinct. “I’ve got a med kit here for situations like this. Stay still,” you order him. Panting, the beskar mountain of a man collapses heavily to the floor as you flip the door sign to ‘closed’. Nyx quickly hands you the kit and medical scanner, with which you immediately run a helmet-to-toe scan to assess his injuries. Once you establish that the wounds are from the abdomen down, you find your eyes glued to the movement of a small strip of visible belly with each breath. His armorweave tunic must have ridden up in the struggle, revealing light golden skin dusted with brown hair. Shaking yourself out of your distraction, you move to lift his shirt further and he snatches your wrist before you can, but doesn’t push you away. He then apparently thinks better of it and loosens his grip on you a little. “I’m not going to touch your helmet,” you promise, bringing your gaze to meet his as sincerely as possible, “I just need to stop you from dying on my floor.” That seems to appease him and he gently releases your wrist, giving a small nod of consent. You go into a kind of trance, gesturing at each piece of armour before you pull it off, only removing the necessary parts for you to treat his wounds. As if on autopilot, you start cleaning and stitching them shut, ignoring the heat rising in your chest as deep grunts slip out through his helmet occasionally. Before long you’re soaking gauze in bacta and meticulously dressing each laceration. You finish in a matter of minutes. He wasn’t the first customer to get injured in or near your shop, and he would hardly be the last.

Only when you are done do you allow yourself to really look at him. How stupidly broad his shoulders are. How his soft belly rises and falls under your hand, now laid still against his pleasantly warm skin. How his pants cling a little tight to the thickness of his thighs and... other areas. After putting his armour back on, he clears his throat and slowly gets to his feet, offering you a hand up as well. “Name’s Din,” he murmurs quietly, as if it were for your ears only.

“Huh? Oh. Okay,” you acknowledge dimly, all thoughts having vacated your brain. Your voice sounds far away in your ears as you introduce yourself in return.

“Thanks,” he adds, then immediately turns on his heel, cape swishing behind him, and begins moving for the door.

“Wait!” you call after him. He halts mid-stride, then turns to face you.

“You – I should take a look at your spear. Free of charge, of course. Least I can do after... all that,” you babble nervously, wiping your palms on your coveralls.

After a contemplative pause, he nods his gratitude and reaches out to politely present you with the spear. Your heart beats hard in your chest as his large, weather-roughened gloves completely wrap around your hands. You look up and inhale sharply as his helmet slowly moves down and then back up your body, seemingly taking in every centimetre of you for the first time. Your widened eyes remain glued to where you’re pretty sure his are behind the dark T of the helmet, not even noticing as blood continues to drip off the point of the spear onto the floor.

“Yuck. Spotchka anyone?” Nyx interjects cheerfully from behind the register, already scuttling towards the break room before anyone can reply. “Uh... yeah,” you call out absent-mindedly, eyes still locked onto Din’s.

You both immediately look away as she returns, placing cups on the little caf table in the waiting area and filling them with a gratuitous amount of the bright blue liquid. “So, Mando,” Nyx begins warmly, “do you always get your behind handed to you?” You choke a little on your drink and shoot her an amused look. Din sinks into his chair with relaxed posture and gloved hands clasped between his spread thighs, seemingly taking the comment in good humour. “Only when my quarry is carrying a Mandalorian weapon,” he responds after a beat. Your nose wrinkles in discomfort.

“It’s not actually – I would never claim to... I made it,” you manage finally. His helmet snaps to face you. “It’s nowhere near the quality of the things my mentor would make, I was just so excited to have the opportunity to work with beskar and use the techniques she taught me. I know I’ll never have the depth of knowledge a Mandalorian armorer has-“

“Could’ve fooled me,” he interrupts, surprisingly good-natured. You can’t help but smile bashfully. A glowing compliment indeed from someone who seems to be a very reserved man. He goes completely still for a moment, a thought crossing his mind. “Was it made with Imperial-forged beskar?”

You shake your head vehemently. “We work hard to keep the lights on around here, but I would never knowingly accept something stolen by Imperials,” you tell him seriously. “It was unrefined beskar alloy, not totally pure, not an ingot. No engravings or anything.” He visibly relaxes again and your little smile returns.

Nyx observes the two of you with a raised brow as you drain the last of the spotchka in your cup and get to cleaning and repairing tiny dents in the spear.

“You know, we’ll have owned this place for three years next week,” Nyx tells him with no small amount of pride. Din turns his helmet to face her with interest. “She does the calculations and handles the business side of things, I work with the weapons,” you explain further, continuing to meticulously manipulate the barely noticeable dips and ridges in the metal.

“And... how long have you been together?” he asks in a semblance of small talk, taking great pains to sound casual.

“Oh well, we’re not exactly-“ you begin as Nyx also replies, “We’re just really close. People being pals you might say.”

“I see.” The Mandalorian shifts almost imperceptibly in his seat. “And what about you?” he continues, that dark T of his helmet locked onto her face. Nyx’s eyes widen. “Oh, well, you know. Not really looking, but not ruling anything out either.” You steal a side glance at her, wondering if that means what you think it means. You suddenly find yourself concentrating very hard on polishing the spear like your life depends on it. Minutes pass between the three of you in silence. “Here you are, sir,” you fluster, thrusting the cleaned and repaired spear away from you like it burned you. Din rises to his full height sinfully slow, stride no longer affected thanks to the bacta and care you gave him, and his hands completely cover yours once again as he takes it from you. You try to stop yourself from hyperventilating as he steps even closer to you while testing the spear’s balance in his hands. “Looks good,” he comments finally, sweeping his gaze down and back up your body again. You are too overcome by his attention to see Nyx bristle slightly beside you. His cape flows around him again as he turns and leaves your establishment.

You and Nyx both burst into incredulous laughter at what had just happened once his footsteps fade from earshot. “He probably thought he was being subtle,” she giggles, kicking her feet up onto the caf table. “Oh Armorer, how long have you been dating this radiant bookkeeper? ‘Cause if you aren't I would just love to press you against this wall,” she imitates in a humorously deep voice. You snort at her impression of him. “Me? ‘And what about you?’ Like you wouldn’t also climb him like a tree,” you shoot back playfully. Nyx hums, twirling a lekku in mock contemplation.

“I don’t know, that cute girl at the nuna roll stand seems like she’s about to ask me out-“

“Just admit it!”

“Okay, so he’s got the whole big warrior man thing going for him. It’s not... not attractive,” she replies with a grin. Nyx then pulls her feet off the table and sits up straight. “Are you thinking of making a move the next time he visits?”

You chew your lip in thought. “Maybe? Could be worth a shot,” you consider. “Do you think he’d treat you right?” the Twi’lek asks, suddenly serious. “Like I would treat you?” Something clicks in the back of your mind, but you brush it off. Nyx has always been a flirty person.

“He seemed....” you trail off thoughtfully. “I don’t know. He seemed gentle, I guess. Considering how he absolutely obliterated that poor bounty.”

She nods in acknowledgement, eyes fixed on the floor. “Anyway,” you add as casually as possible, “who knows if he’ll be back?”

A week later

Minutes before closing time, the Mandalorian enters your workplace carrying no fewer than five duffel bags stuffed with weapons. “I told my – I told a covert on Glavis about you,” he begins somewhat hesitantly. “They had a lot to say about the knife. And my spear.” You do a little jog of excitement to the door and flip the sign to ‘closed’, as you had a week ago. “And?” you reply expectantly, practically bouncing on your toes with anticipation of the contents of the bags. It was a shame Nyx had already called it a day – you find yourself wanting her to see all of it. To be sharing this moment with you. Din sighs under his helmet, a frustrated, almost embarrassed sound. “I think we should sit down,” he suggests, sounding unsure in a way you weren’t expecting. Both of you take the same seats in the waiting area as you had the week previously, a frown burrowing into your forehead. You begin nervously playing with the waistband of your pants which have become tighter since sitting down.

“Is something wrong? Did I damage something?” you ask anxiously. He shakes his head. “I’ve learned something about Mandalorian culture I didn’t know before. Something I thought you would want to know too,” he tells you through what sounds like gritted teeth. He has already spoken more words to you since entering than in his entire last visit. “The spear, the dagger, they believed they shouldn’t exist.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “Shouldn’t exist?” you repeat, shocked. He sighs again, his discomfort with talking so much and so vulnerably apparent. His voice sounds tight when he explains further. “There are some of us who believe beskar should not be forged into weapons, only armour. The Armorer of the covert told me of a young Mandalorian girl who once thought to build a weapon capable of bypassing beskar. The Empire stole her design and used it to murder hundreds of us.” You instinctively cover your mouth with a hand to suppress a sound that never comes.

Din has gone completely still, shoulders tense as a boulder. “The Armorer believed my spear, the dagger, that their very existence threatened us. Beskar pierces beskar.”

You shrink further into your chair, thighs pooling beneath you as your press yourself into it. You want to sink into the lava flats of this Maker-forsaken planet and quietly pass away from shame. “I didn’t know,” you confess in a small voice. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have-“

“It doesn’t matter. The alloy you were given was not pure enough to pierce my armour. But she did melt them down and forge them into armour for foundlings – for young ones who need their help in the future,” he informs you with surprising softness. You can only close your eyes and nod in solemn agreement.

“Maker, I’m so sorry. My mentor, she never spoke of this. Only of how much she loved that the art of forging beskar had been cultivated and kept over centuries. She was so excited to share it with me.”

He nods slowly, deep in thought. “It was drawn to my attention some time ago that the Way I was raised with is not the only way to be a Mandalorian,” he tells you, gloved hands clasped tightly between his thigh guards. “There are many who craft blades from beskar. Your mentor probably one of them. I was raised in a specific sect, with its own beliefs and customs about how things should be. Children of the Watch must never remove their helmets in front of others. Yet I have met warriors who remove them constantly. But I... am not welcome in that covert any longer.” Pain enters his voice in the last sentence like a stone sitting in his throat. Your heart breaks for him. This stoic, gentle warrior who had been cast aside by his own people like so much waste, however justified they felt in their reasoning. Tentatively, you reach out and take his hand into yours. His stiff posture seems to instantly melt under your touch. “Din – can I call you Din?” you begin gently, running your thumb over the back of his glove. After a moment of consideration, he nods. “I’m really sorry they turned you away. I don’t know much about the nuances of Mandalorian culture, but I do know you must have had a good reason to remove your helmet. And it doesn’t make you a bad person, Din. It just means you’re different now.” His inhale shudders in response to your words. The hunter before you tilts his helmet to the floor. You wonder if he has ever been told he is enough before. If he knows that every being in the galaxy makes choices that others don’t understand, and are still worthy of being loved. If he knows that includes him.

When he raises his head again to meet your gaze, something clicks into place inside him and he tightens his grip on your hand, lifting it to press the back of your hand against the forehead of his helmet. It feels so tender that you’re not sure how to respond other than simply savouring the gesture. “So these weapons aren’t from them, for you to fix. They’re mine,” Din admits, gently placing your hand back in your lap. “I brought them because I want to ask you something.” A hopeful feeling shoots up your spine. “If you say no, I will simply pay you for your time, collect all of this and be on my way. But I was wondering... if you might come with me when I leave in a month.” Your eyes go wide as a loth cat’s.

“Come with you? Where?”

“Where I'm needed. You’re skilled with weapons and first aid.”

Oh. Din was inviting you to join him because it made practical sense. A booked and busy bounty hunter like him could obviously use in-house weapons maintenance and the occasional patch-up. You try to squash down the excitement you had felt at the prospect of him having any other intentions. A breath whooshes out of your lungs, and all of your good sense with it. “Okay,” you blurt after barely a moment. The bounty hunter nods and reclines in his chair, legs spread, his posture radiating an energy of quiet confidence that makes your pelvis grow warm. “But... what about Nyx? She’s better at piloting than me,” you add. Din considers this for a moment. “She didn’t seem interested.”

You don’t think that’s strictly true, but then she also hadn’t expressed any intention to get to know him better. “You should come back tomorrow,” you suggest, “and leave your weapons. I’ll service them for you and when you pick them up at the end of the day we can... talk more.” He stands up from his seat and gives you another nod of acknowledgement before heading for the door. The poor man had probably overshot his conversation quota for the day. “And Din?” you call out to his back. He turns a little so the side of his helmet faces you. “Thank you for sharing all of that with me. You didn’t have to,” you tell him, trying to squeeze every gram of tenderness you feel into your voice. The Mandalorian gives you another small nod, before facing forwards again and leaving your shop.

The next day, you put a makeshift sign out the front claiming something or other about being closed for fumigation. You had already made enough from the thirteen blaster pistols client to justify the peace and quiet. Nyx had decided to take the day off, leaving you to work your way through the cleaning and maintenance of Din’s weapons with your favourite holonet podcasts playing softly from the workshop speakers. You find yourself missing the light bell of her voice ringing through the air. The smell of her perfume clinging to your clothes. Something inside you aches without her here. The vibrant enthusiasm of a host’s voice fades into the background as your thoughts then drift to the man in beskar. Despite having only met Din days ago, you feel like maybe he is a small part of you now, after he let himself be so vulnerable with you. You feel like maybe you are a small part of him, and now you carry each other around because of the moment you shared. You recall the way the he had pressed his helmet gently into the back of your hand like a kiss, and a smile breaks across your face. Despite dispensing with his bounty with the incredible violence of a storm, he had been so open with you. You had agreed to leave with him impulsively, but you don’t regret it. Something about the way he had chased a quarry into your doorway, out of every little shopfront on Nevarro, feels cosmic. The glances you shared, his hands overwhelming yours, the electricity crackling between you every moment you were together, it all feels like something much bigger than mere coincidence. It feels like the loving design of some long-forgotten god, waiting centuries just to bring people together.

Your mind turns to Nyx again. In your mind’s eye you see the curve of her smile when she says something cheeky, remember the plush softness of her lips against your cheek. The woman who had been by your side for years, unknowingly being all you ever wanted simply by existing. A moon blessing you with her orbit. Years of late nights walking the tightrope between companionship and something more, chaste kisses in the workshop followed by laughter and more kisses, all swirled together like milk and caf in your mind. You think of her lipstick in your bathroom, and then of Din’s bags on your floor, and then more of her. You wonder how your heart can hold so much love. You wonder if what you feel is love or just infatuation with the concept of both of them. You think... maybe it doesn’t really matter. As you finish up the final piece, you make a decision to ask her something before you leave.

The door swings open and Din’s broad silhouette appears. You grin and run up to meet him, deciding on a whim to wrap your arms around him. He goes still for a moment in surprise, but slowly wraps his arms around you in return and squeezes you against him. One of his gloved hands finds its way into your hair, where he begins to stroke it gently. You look up at him with a beaming smile, unable to contain your affection for this man. You inhale sharply as his hands find your waist and ever so slightly squeeze. The air suddenly grows warm between you as you hold his gaze through the helmet. You blink up at him, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. You settle for placing your palms on his breastplate and drawing little circles with your fingertips, waiting for his next move. Din sighs, but this time it’s a sound of relief, like taking off your shoes when you get home. You fill so his arms so perfectly, you think you could stay there forever. You’re savouring the warmth of his enormous hands around your waist when he presses his helmet to your forehead, another echo of a kiss. Your breath quickens as he slowly reaches up to stroke your cheek with his thumb, separated from your skin only by the time-smoothed material of his glove. No words are spoken between you but you can feel what he’s trying to say – it’s in the way he holds you close, squeezing at the softness of your curves and dips with the hand that’s not cradling your face. The connection between you is so tangible you think you could reach out and touch it. You keep touching him instead, your hands slipping ever so slowly down to the belt of his pants. “Tell me what you want, Din,” you whisper to him encouragingly. He presses his helmet to your forehead again. “Whatever you’ll give me,” the man behind the armour replies. “Anything. Everything.”

Another smile breaks like the dawn across your lips as you untuck the hem of his tunic and run your hands up the little swell of his glorious abdomen to his chest, rising and falling rapidly under your touch. You squeal unintentionally as he lifts you with ease, gently placing you back down on the edge of your workbench. You hear him inhale sharply as he presses his helmet into the little junction between your neck and shoulder, flings aside his gloves and runs his burning hands over every roll and stretchmark of you greedily. “You’ll be my undoing,” he confesses as he slips the straps of your coveralls down your arms. You tear yourself away from him to shed the remaining layers of fabric between you. “I want to do you first,” you laugh breathlessly, pulling him into the space between your thighs. His hand slips beneath his helmet and into his mouth, coming away slick with spit. You cry out involuntarily as he plunges a finger inside you, filling you the way you’d been craving since he first entered your store. “Maker,” you whimper as he pushes and withdraws, pushes and withdraws like the tides on Naboo. Your eyes roll back as the world narrows to where he adds another finger, then another, your whole sensory universe made up of the pleasure he’s giving you. “Din, I’m gonna-“ He pulls back his hand just as something swells deep in your belly, leaving you to whimper at the empty feeling where he had just been. “Shh, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers soothingly, stroking little circles right over your most sensitive area with his thumb. You just know he’s smirking under that helmet as you squirm in overwhelming ecstasy under his heated touch.

The warrior in front of you pulls out his stiff cock with a hiss, hurriedly patting down the pockets now bunched up by his ankles before retrieving a condom. He presses his helmet back into your neck and inhales heavily as he rolls it down with impressive efficiency. “Tell me what you want,” he repeats your earlier words. “Fuck me,” you plead breathily. Your hand claps over your mouth as he pushes the tip of himself inside you, the stretch almost unbearably delicious. It feels like a lot, as prepared as you are for him. He grabs your wrist again, just as tightly as the day you met him, only this time to drag it away from your face. “I want to hear you,” he growls into your ear. “I want to hear everything.” You cry out loudly as he suddenly fills you fully the way you had been waiting for. “Din, more,” you demand, your voice sounding strangely far away beneath the ringing of your blood in your ears. He grunts with effort as he begins thrusting into you harder, deeper, further, hitting a spot that makes your thighs tremble. His low moans spark a fire inside you that rages and feeds off of the roughness of his thrusts. The pressure inside you keeps building as he hits that heavenly spot over and over, with what sounds like curses tumbling from under his helmet in languages you haven’t heard before. “Come for me,” you ask him huskily, and barely seconds later you feel the warmth of him burst into the condom buried within you. He groans loudly and shudders, thrusting weakly and slowly until he’s given you all he has. “Kriff,” Din curses under his breath. You can only nod breathlessly in agreement. The two of you take your time redressing, stealing glances and smiles between each article of clothing. He stills for a moment, hesitating before allowing you help him slot his armour back into place. “I’ll be back once I get this bounty,” the hunter promises, briefly illuminating the hologram on the puck in his pocket. A baby-faced Nikto with a hint of the devil in his eyes flashes up. “Go be good at your job,” you encourage him with a little smile. He presses his helmet into your forehead briefly before slinging his bags onto a stick pressed horizontally against the top of his shoulders, and hauls his belongings out the door.

The following evening

“So, how was yesterday?” Nyx calls out to you from her bedroom with great amusement, kicking her feet and twirling a lekku with her finger. “I’m assuming you sealed the deal?” You can’t stop the smile spreading across your face as you emerge from her shower. “It was... exactly how I thought it would be. Passionate, rough, but somehow still really sweet,” you tell her. Her eyes flash in a challenge as you collapse down next to her in the bed. Something about the thought of you with him lit a fire in her. It had felt like jealousy at first, but now...

“You wanna make out?” she asks you mischievously. "Always," you reply with a grin. Then the clouds of her lips collide with yours, and a rush of desire fills your body. You lean into her as your tongue searches for entry. She opens her mouth and moans quietly as your hand comes up to the back of her neck to pull her closer. You roll on top of her in bed, pressing her hands into the pillow. You tear your mouth away from hers breathlessly. “Good?” you ask, unable to suppress a cocky smirk. Nyx laughs and throws a pillow at you before leaning back in to suck love bites into your neck. Your eyes flutter closed as you try to remember what you were going to say to her. “Wait, wait,” you begin, and she immediately ceases her affections. “What’s wrong?” she asks with concern. “Well, I was wondering...” you trail off, unsure how one is meant to ask their current (sort of) flame about a new one. ��What do you think of Din?”

Nyx sits back on her elbows, lekku swishing as she tilts her head in contemplation. “I’ve actually been thinking about it a bit the past few days. I think I like him too,” she admits eventually, wringing her hands in her lap. “I think... I like you with him. You seem happy. And it makes me happy.” Your heart feels like it could flutter right out of you like a porg on its way to a warm fire. You snuggle your face into the silky softness of her chest. “How would that even work?” you wonder aloud. “I don’t know, honeycake,” she replies with a little sigh. “But maybe we could find out. The three of us. Together.” You meet her eyes and nod before settling back down into her arms. “Besides,” she muses, “we would hardly be the first group of beings to feel this way.” The bookkeeper was, of course, correct. Your neighbours growing up had lived together in wedded bliss, the four of them filling your corner of the block with laughter and playful banter. It just hadn’t occured to you that maybe that was an option for you, too. You’d had relationships before, just always one at a time. Not necessarily on purpose, things had just turned out that way. Now, you wonder if things could be different. The two of you would just have to ask Din.

Then you remember what you’d agreed to with him. Specifically, what you’d agreed to without her. “He invited me to go with him,” you blurt suddenly, eyes locking onto hers anxiously. Nyx pulls back from you in surprise. “Well, I think he wanted to invite you too, but then when he blatantly asked you if you’re single you kind of didn’t really respond as enthusiastically as maybe he thought you would, and then you didn’t say anything about liking him after-” She takes your hand tightly in hers. “I would go anywhere with you. Including hitchhiking across the galaxy with a tall beefcake Mandalorian man,” she laughs, pressing a kiss to your intertwined fingers. “Besides, we’ll always have the shop if things don’t work out.” You nod, overwhelmed by the prospect of a new adventure with the two of them.

When he enters your store the next day, he skids to a halt as you both greet him holding hands. “Uh, congratulations,” the hunter tells you awkwardly. You chuckle, and Nyx fails to hide her smile. “We have something to talk to you about,” the Twi’lek woman addresses him firmly, taking his hand in her other one. Din goes very still, but doesn’t let go of her hand. You notice as his breastplate begins to quicken in its rising and falling, just as it had when he first entered your store. His helmet remains angled towards her face, as if glued to examine her stunning features. “I...” his voice cracks a little, and he clears it before continuing. “I was hoping I might talk to you both as well. But you go first.” Din gestures towards the two of you with his and Nyx’s hands clasped tightly. “If you’ll have me,” she begins furtively, eyes darting back and forth across his helmet as if it might give her the right words, “I want to come with you. We both want to come with you. If you’ll have us.” You hear him inhale sharply. He still hasn’t let go of her hand. A moment passes as he thinks it over. “I’d like that,” he replies, voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it through his helmet vocoder. You take his other hand with the one not holding onto Nyx. The three of you are linked together like worshippers at an altar, basking in the light of something new. “Where to first?” you ask him in a whisper, afraid to break the reverie of the moment. He tilts his helmet in a way that makes you wonder if he’s smiling under there, and squeezes both of your hands.

“I gotta pay a visit to a little friend.”

[meandmyechoes]

Sideshow Ahsoka figure trash talk

Montral/Lekku

sculpt is good. good curve and height for montrals.

lekku is at the correct length reaching the chest, however

looks odd due to being hard plastic thus lacking foreshortening. Lekku being soft fatty tissues should press against the shoulder when one’s head turn sideways, thus the lek on that side looking shorter. Both lekku being fixed length on the figure makes them look longer than natural when the head turns.

which means the lekku are most likely not poseable, at hot toys’ precedent

the marking edges??? Video shows grooves carved into the flesh at blue marking boundaries but they are uneven? (count from top) Marking 2 took an abrupt turn downwards as if the artist squeezing room from the headdress they already forgot sculpted. Not a smooth arc in lower edge of Marking 3 and a bum in the upper edge of Marking 4

The wider white Spacing should be between Marking 3 and 4, not 4 and 5, contributes to lekku looking longer than necessary. The blue Marking 4 should move a little downard as a whole

Face

headdress is wrong. should not be shiny silver but dirty gold/bronze.

why are those not real beads

facial markings are well proportioned

eye are too small. looks older than 16.

eyes too ice blue. should be lighter, sky blue. easy on the iris edge.

nose looks too straight, like a clone, but will give it benefit of the doubt

lips are fine, appreciates the chin

Dress

CHEAP

collar too high so her neck looks extra long, contribute to overall ill-fitted porportions.

her choker is literally a stud stuck on. i guess at least the pendant is 3D unlike the necklace itself just being a line printed on.

collar bones where???

material: some kind of knit to reduce seamlines. intuitive but it's about every child's first doll dress is made out of. This is the equivalent to putting a sock over her and cut two arm holes. Knit cut costs on tailoring and and seamwork, as well any effort to resemble leather.

Knit produces lint with wear and catches dust

now this is more a pet peeve than a real issue, but i don't like how the armholes and boob window are surged while the skirt is hemmed. It is the reasonable method, but I kinda wish the skirt is also surged to give a uniform look, since you didn't even bother to use same-colour threads to hide the surging. I will bet the hem is just single hemmed too lol.

the arm bands and gloves are not removable, unlike a playline doll.

The pants being knit is something I can forgive, what ticks me was the diamonds on her legs are not cutouts, but stickers/decals/sewn-on - either way FAKED. Again, playline doll level.

I'm so fucking pissed the tabard isn't even embroidered. Cutouts on leather of two whole different colours? dream on!

They weren’t even trying to remake the show’s leather/form-fitting look

Not to plea the impossible for large toy brands to use real leather/good pleather, but your lazy knit doesn’t even FIT her properly. Look at the baggy areas at the shoulder and around the stomach

Body

“all new custom body made in partnership with TBleague”, so the seamless arms are bendable but at most 90 degrees and no more than 10 minutes a time, also prone to cracking.

thus limiting you to straight arm guarding poses

wonder what the shoulder joints look like

the hand moulds looks pretty good capturing cw's angular style, but again seems to forget to paint her nails.

Lightsabers

the promo pic installed them wrong. On our left is Main hilt + short blade and our right is Shoto hilt + Long blade.

not betting they remember shoto is yellowish, looks like the same two shades of green here.

Verdict

not wasting $250 on it. simply not worth it. Even disregarding clothing standard for it being an action figure, the headsculpt is less than ideal, and the body does not provide maximum articulation. Imagine if the prototype was already this bad how off will the final product be. Not a toy made for play and doesn’t even look good as a display piece.

[raven-of-domain-kwaad]

"My Muse Is Under Your Muse’s Spell! Send them a command to obey..." This is for Kelsa - Call someone who's important to you, spend some quality time together - go to the movies, try cooking something together, do things that make you happy

Ayyy! @palepinkycat with the comfort asks! Thanks for this Pinky!

My Muse is Under Your Muse's Spell! Send them a command to obey...

Kelsa had been surprised to receive the message from Lakqâ. She had not seen the ancient warrior in years, not since she had been forced to leave Odessen and Mara’s Alliance.

Even before reading the message, Kelsa found herself smiling as she remembered how she used to affectionately call the Sith Lala as a child. He had said that he didn’t care for the nickname but Kelsa remembered him smiling faintly whenever he thought she was not looking.

She missed him and Odessen. But after she lost her family, it just wasn’t safe for her to stay, not after Cithar’s betrayal.

Sighing, she shook her head. Cithar, the Alliance all of that was no longer her concern. And fortunately for her, it seemed that Lakqâ thought the same thing.

He had not sent her a message asking her to return or to help with some new crisis, he had asked that she remember to take care of herself in these difficult times.

Her chest tightened and she had to wipe away tears that had begun to form at the corner of her eyes. It had been so long since someone had actually worried about her well being as a person.

Not that she had made it easy of course. She knew that she could be... abrasive these days.

But there was one person who had been relentless in their attempts to get to know her better and she did have their holo-frequency...

Before she could think herself out of it, Kelsa punched in the frequency and waited for a connection.

-

“You know, when you invited me over, I thought we might be doing something more than cooking,” Unna Ordo chuckled as they opened the oven to check on their Tiingilar.

Kelsa rolled her eyes but couldn’t keep a smile from spreading across her face. She enjoyed Unna’s presence, even if she wasn’t always good at showing it.

“Well patience is a virtue, as they say.”

“Uh-huh,” Unna’s lekku twitched, unimpressed. “And just who are these ‘they’ you speak of?”

“Dunno. Jedi maybe?” Kelsa suggested as she gave her blue tinted stew a stir. “Seems like something they’d say.”

“Yeah, well you’ll forgive me if I don’t take Jedi advice from a Sith,” they said while peering into Kelsa’s pot. “You sure that this will be spicy? Doesn’t look or smell like it.”

That caused Kelsa to smirk. “Old Sith recipe. Trust me, it’ll burn more than that cute little mando dish you’ve got going.”

Unna crossed their arms and gave Kelsa an unimpressed and doubtful snort.

Putting down the ladle, Kelsa faced Unna with an ear to ear grin on her face. “Care to put money on it, Ordo?”

“Hundred credits say that my Tiingilar beats out your Sith stew, no problem.”

The pair shook on it before returning to cooking.

When the food was finally ready, Kelsa and Unna each had a bowl of Tiingilar and Sith stew in front of them. Each were very confident that they were about to win their little spice contest.

“You can still back out Sithspawn. No shame in that.”

Kelsa snorted. “Not a chance bucket-head. I want my money.”

“Well if you’re so confident, haili cetare!”

Grinning, Kelsa took a large bite of the Tiingilar. She hummed happily to herself as she enjoyed the various spices within the mandalorian dish. Lots of flavors that she assumed most people couldn’t taste, fortunately for her, her genetic Sith heritage meant she wasn’t most people.

She took another bite of the Tiingilar, enjoying the slightly surprised look on Unna’s face. “Tasty!”

Still grinning, she pointed Unna to the stew in front of them.

Uncertainty was clear on Unna’s face as they took a spoonful of stew and swallowed. After waiting for a second, they smirked. “Not even close, Sithspawn,” they declared smugly. “I believe you owe me a hundred- Haar’chak!” they coughed and started sputtering as the spices on their tongue finally made themselves known.

Their lekku were quivering in distress as Unna desperately gulped down their water to stop their mouth from burning. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to work as their eyes were still tearing up and mucus began to drip out of their nose.

“Asha!” Kelsa cackled as Unna tried to free their tongue of the spices that seemed to grow hotter. Still, she did have a heart and quickly poured a glass of bantha milk for the suffering mandalorian. “Try this. It’ll help better than water.”

Unna snatched the glass and downed half of it before letting out a gasp and shoving the stew away from themself. “What... was... that?!”

“Maybe I should’ve mentioned,” Kelsa snickered as she gave Unna a pat on the back. “Sith don’t process the heat of spices the same way others do. Some genetic quirk, I dunno the specifics, but we don’t feel the heat we just taste the spice flavor.”

“You Sith bitch,” Unna gasped before swishing more bantha milk around their mouth.

Kelsa just laughed. It had been a long time since she had laughed like this. Still patting Unna on the back, she silently thanked Lakqâ for his message, happy that there were people in the galaxy that actually cared about her.

[fanfictasia]

Angstober Day 31

The Last Goodbye

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from The Chosen Twins

Ahsoka Tano

“But we’ll… be separated,” Alema protests.

“I know,” I murmur, “I don’t want this either.” But something is telling me that Aleman needs to be on Ryloth for whatever reason, and I don’t think me staying there is a good idea.

The silence drags on for far too long. “If this is the only way,” she says, finally.

“For now,” I agree, looking up to meet her eyes. And that means… is this a goodbye?

“You’re crazy if you think this’ll keep us apart for that long,” Alema insists, abruptly stepping forwards and wrapping her arms tightly around me. I return the embrace just as fiercely, shifting so our lekku aren’t being squished too hard as we cling to each other.

“Yeah, let’s hope so,” I mutter. “I can’t imagine spending an extended time out of contact, because this is… risky, and I don’t know how safe communications will be.” We've fought in a war together, but somehow, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

“It won’t be,” Alema agrees, looking away. “But I can’t imagine things will stay like for… long.”

I know it’s only wishful thinking, but I don’t mention it. I can sense that it’s going to be some time, but I don’t think it’ll be that long. It’s just a temporary thing, after which I am certain everything will get… better. “Just stay out of danger.”

“Excuse me,” Alema huffs, “But you’re usually the one who gets us into danger.”

“That is not true,” I shoot back stubbornly. At least the argument momentarily distracts me from what’s about to happen, “You're track record is at least as bad.”

“I must agree with Alema here,” Jinx interjects, smirking.

“Hey, have you been listening all this time?” Alema yelps.

“Your argument was getting loud,” he insists. I can only be grateful that this, at least, still feels somewhat normal.

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. But you only knew us for a year. That’s not a good way to compare.”

“You mentioned I could go to Ryloth with you,” Jinx begins, instantly drawing us back to that. What I was hoping we could avoid for a few moments longer.

Alema nods. “Yeah, if you want.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he points out bluntly. And nor does he even know how survive, unlike us. He needs someone’s help, and three of us should definitely not be in the same place. I know I still need help with that, even if the time we helped on Ryloth had made it easier.

“We should make preparations to go,” I say finally, in spite myself. I don’t want to, but I know we need to hurry. The longer we stay together, we’re endangering everyone here.

“Yes,” Alema agrees, eyes downcast, “May the Force be with you.”

“And you,” I echo. This is… so much worse than when I left the Order. Now, I’m leaving everyone, and everything is destroyed, and I don’t know when I’ll see any of them again.

[likelylarks]

Larks I don’t know if you’re enjoying the anons I sent you but you always respond and seem so warm and lovely and I love you

(I’ve sent both protection policy and Hayden Christensen tiktok lol and Dw you’re behind the gate. What’s your favourite Star Wars movie so far, and do you like the mandalorian if you’ve watched?)

oh my god!!! you’ve been both!! baby!!! yes i’ve been enjoying them!! i love you so much!! xx

(this got so long i’m so sorry i love you so much i just get really excited about star wars)

okay so i like full whipped out my whiteboard and tentative ranked all of them bc i realized i didn’t have a confident answer for my favorite one

(sorry about the handwriting i was Going Fast) and it turns out attack of the clones is my favorite? like the obianidala throuple content is gods gift to mankind through george lucas!! there is so much!! in that movie!!! just right off the bat with the flirty elevator and obi wan teasing anakin about padme! and then on geonosis padme kisses anakin on the cheek after she jumps on the back of the thing and then they rescue obi wan and she puts her hand on the top his thigh!!! it’s narratively rich!!! it’s everything to me!!!

(sorry i just, they’re the two people that love anakin most in the world! they’re the two people he loves most in the world! why don’t we more talk about them loving each other too??)

and i have watched mando! for the most part i really like it, the babie owns my ass, pedro pascal is a king, im not quite sure where they’re going to go with a season three tho (maybe i’d have a better idea if i watched book of boba fett but i didn’t get around to it OOPS)

my two biggest gripes with it were both from season 2, first with ahsoka - i don’t think rosario dawson did all that great and also the character design, imo, SUCKED, bc a togruta’s montrals and lekku are supposed to get bigger/longer as they get older, and they kept hers really short!!! and i get that it was probably for ease of make up or whatever but that’s bullshit bc shaak ti’s live action appearances had such! long! lekku and montrals!! it was disappointing character design especially bc mando is supposed to take place after rebels where ahsoka HAS long lekku and montrals,, just made her look like she was still 14 :/

(have included pictures for those being like wtf larks)

(TL: shaak ti, TR: rebels ahsoka, BR: mando ahsoka, BL: 14 year old clone wars ahsoka)

and then!! my second gripe was with luke’s little darth vader montage fight scene against the dark troopers - HATED IT bc yes, while it was very ~cool~ or whatever, it also, imo, misses the point of return of the jedi. like, luke isn’t like darth vader, and we shouldn’t celebrate the basically shot for shot remake of vader’s rogue one fight :/ bc vader didn’t die as vader, he died as anakin, as someone who loved his son more than anything, who redeemed himself as much as the archetypal story he was written into would allow

star wars, at its core, is a love story, is multiple love stories stacked on top of each other and told to children to get them to believe in something bigger and greater than themselves and also in themselves,, luke isn’t like his father because of the way he fights but because of the way he pilots and fixes droids and always makes the right decision in the end - to reduce luke, the marvel that he is, to a darth vader fighting style copy just because it looks cool?? is a disservice to luke, to anakin, and to the central thesis of star wars

(also it didn’t even look that cool, the lighting was shit and it was hard to see, this is both a critique of the original rogue one sequence and the mandalorian sequence)

ALSO I AM SO SORRY i have so many thoughts and opinions about star wars i love it so much i could talk about it for such a long time

this is probably not what you were going for when you asked about my favorite star wars movie and whether i had watched mando but all my irl friends and my dad have already heard my mando rants and are tired of them but i’m still very passionate about it

[a-kyber-star]

WHY WOULD YOU SHOW ME ORDER 66 FOR THE 7TH TIME WITH NO WARNING THIS JUST ISNT FAIR

[obitohatescops]

Not to be a nitpicky bitch, but why are Ahsoka’s lekku and montrals so short?!?! Ha who am I kidding I love nitpicking Disney Star Wars

But seriously, she’s in her 40s! They grow as a Togruta ages, and she has been shown with longer lekku in Rebels already! You can also compare those to Shaak Ti’s, they should be longer and the montrals should be taller!

I know I’m focusing on the wrong things

But this just feels so wrong and I hate it shdienfi also they look cheaply made there I said it

[sirikenobi12]

In Defense of New SW Makeup:

(From a special FX Makeup Artist)

There has been a lot of contention going around with regards to the look of certain characters in the "Disney Canon" - it's all Lucasfilm friends, it's got the same teams George Lucas had...but that's another argument for another day.

I'm not going to harp on the fact why most of these characters can't look like their stylized animated versions because I feel that point has been made by others already, no I am going to point out why they look the way that they do and why it is actually a positive thing.

In the late 2000's (after the prequels) high definition television and film completely changed the Fx Makeup industry, facial prosthetics could not hold up under the now crisp eye of the new technology and it looked incredibly fake on screen - Silicon prosthetics were the exception of course but they were relatively new and VERY expensive and hard to use. And because they were heavier they still didn't work for big pieces like lekkus and other headpieces.

And because of this CGI became the norm for fantasy and horror characters for most (if not all) of the 2010's.

FX makeup artists truly thought their positions were obsolete in this new high-def world and that they would have to settle for B-movies for the rest of their careers.

But then Disney came along with both the MCU The Force Awakens and totally changed the game, they found a way to mix practical effects with digital and made in my opinion a beautiful blend of the two arts in a really wonderful way.

But let's dig into why everyone needs to stop dumping on and instead appreciate these makeups, first off blaming Disney for these makeup choices shows how little anyone knows about the filmmaking process. I have been on multiple film sets where I have had to explain to Directors and Producers why they can't have exactly what they want due to the physical restrictions of makeup applications. Trust me, Disney would rather the fans be happy because it means more money. These were production restrictions and needs for these makeups, not an evil corporate decision.

AHSOKA TANO:

What a GORGEOUS piece of art that is!! It looks like an extension of her head while still holding up to demanding physical stunts. If either her lekkus or montrals had been any longer they would've started bending due to their weight or you would've seen more seams on the prosthetics. They are also painted beautifully and wrinkled just right to show some age on the character.

CAD BANE:

He is TERRIFYING in all the best ways!! People complain that he's not the right color blue but did you take into account that he's standing beneath 2 bright suns in a washed out environment that would reflect off his skin?? He's also aged which most people and creatures lose pigment in their skin tones as they get older.

You probably didn't think about that, but trust me the makeup artist sure did.

GRAND INQUISITOR:

The issues that I'm seeing people have with his makeup are similar to Ahsoka's. But a huge elongated head prosthetic would limit the mobility of your actor/stunt person. I keep seeing it compared to the same species in ROTS, but again keep in mind they didn't have to do stunts, in fact they barely could move. Also, the actor chosen for the role will impact how a prosthetic sits and behaves so maybe we should appreciate a good performance over tearing down someone's hard work.

At the end of the day all of these makeups are fantastic and I'd like to acknowledge the teams of artists and performers who bring these beloved characters to life!! Thank you!

And may the Force be with you!