#mandalorians want to fuck the jedi so bad it makes them look stupid

[mearchy]

HCs about Tarre Vizsla are cool because we know virtually nothing about him except that he was taken from Mandalorian culture as a child, raised and trained as a Jedi (the people Mandalorians are convinced are their existential enemies) and then after being a fully-fledged, blooded and painted adult Jedi Knight, he showed up and became the Mand'alor. The leader of the entire Mandalorian people. Like, what??? the fuck ?? happened??? I know Mandalorian history is notoriously unstable (understatement of the century, moving on) but what kind of position do you have to be in to take a beloathed arch nemesis who nominally claims Mandalorian heritage as planetary leader? On the other hand, he could've just been so Fucking Chill that the Mandos were willing to overlook the glowing blade and the Temple affiliation and the force powers. Anyway I'm so intensely curious about him I love Tarre fics and hcs give me more, please,

[antianakin]

Am I the only one who just lost any and all love for newer Star Wars material due to Jedi hate ? Like- the only merch or show or even FANDOM topic I get involved in is clone wars stuff and MAYBE TBB. Like- why would I want the watch shows who attempt to rewritte canon and portray the very heroes of Star Wars as the bad guys ?

Why would I want to watch shows that assassinate characters left and right (looking at you, Ahsoka and Sabine) ? Why would I want to buy merch of characters who I not only NOT care about, but who also are used as meta mouthpieces for stupid Jedi hate ?

I think there's TONS of good newer Star Wars material, to be honest.

I loved the Kenobi show and it is arguably one of the most pro Jedi pieces of media to have existed since the Prequels films. Aside from one itty bitty somewhat awkward word choice in one line of one episode, there is absolutely NOTHING in that show that can be used to indict the Jedi or blame them for anything and it is arguably one of the only shows to really spend time MOURNING the Jedi and recognizing the horror of what was done to them. Rebels comes closest after this, but its structure makes it a little less visceral than the Kenobi show was to me.

I really adore Visions and I recognize that this is sort-of Star Wars adjacent more than anything else, but SO LITTLE truly understands what makes Star Wars compelling as a story and really hits on those primary themes the way that Visions does. There's SO MUCH Jedi content in Visions and I remember people complaining about how much Jedi content was in Visions and other people responding that if you were given free reign to just play in the Star Wars sandbox with near zero restrictions on what you could make with it, you would probably ALSO immediately go for the psychic space wizards with laser swords. Who WOULDN'T? Visions also just genuinely has some of the most engaging and heart-wrenching stories to come out of Star Wars in a LONG while and it does it in these beautifully animated 15 minute packages. It's such a gem and I am so glad to be alive at the same time as Visions.

Rogue One is older now, but both Rogue One and Andor, despite having zero actual Jedi in them, really hinge on the themes from the Prequel trilogy about the tragedy in the Star Wars universe, stepping up when no one else will, choosing to be selfless and compassionate for the greater good, etc. Faith and hope are MASSIVE themes within these two works and even though there aren't any space wizards, good or evil, in either story, they feel like some of the most pro Jedi things Star Wars has come out with in a while based on thematic messages ALONE.

The Mandalorian's first two seasons actually have this absolutely BEAUTIFUL story about the selfless sacrifice of one man as he gives up everything in order to help this child find his way back to the culture he'd been ripped from. Everything AFTER that regarding Grogu and Din's storyline is a piece of shit (it's not explicitly anti-Jedi or anything, but it undoes a lot of the things that made their story so compelling and beautiful), but the first two seasons are genuinely GOOD and very pro Jedi in a lot of ways despite the lack of many actual Jedi characters.

The Book of Boba Fett is a terrible show for a LOT of reasons, but shockingly none of them have anything to do with its treatment of the Jedi. If it ever ends up with a season two, I desperately hope they leave Mace Windu's name the fuck out of it, but at this point it is a pretty Jedi neutral show if you're willing to deal with the rest of its bullshit.

Rebels is also somewhat older now, and it has a few lines here and there that are a tad more Jedi critical, but it is by and large VERY Jedi positive and does also follow a lot of the themes of selflessness and sacrifice that go along with being a Jedi. It also has themes of mercy and patience and facing your fears in Sabine's storyline that got entirely thrown away in her later storyline. Just thought that was worth pointing out. For reasons.

TBB is also fairly Jedi neutral, but its treatment of the clones is basically the clone version of being anti Jedi, so I'm not sure it's actually any better. It just traded hating on the Jedi to hating on the clones, and I find that just as distasteful.

I can't really speak to things like comics and novels much since I don't tend to consume them really. I've read a few of the adult novels in the High Republic Phase I and the first one was genuinely very good, but there were some relatively heavy-handed Jedi critical themes within the third book of Phase I (The Fallen Star) that put me off of it a little. I haven't continued into Phase II or III at all, so I have no idea if those themes got continued in later books. I've heard generally good things about the Padawan book, I think.

The Cal Kestis video games, Fallen Order and Survivor, also have their small Jedi critical moments, but much like Rebels, it has these massive overarching themes and messages about compassion and selflessness and sacrifice and facing your fears and mercy. They are immensely Jedi positive in a lot of ways and I really enjoyed both of them.

So out of everything I have seen (and know about) the only stuff that's truly heinously and insultingly anti-Jedi is the Ahsoka show, the Acolyte, and Tales of the Jedi. Three shows and like 30% of one book. Out of a list of like ten different shows and one film and some books and video games. It's not even really HALF of the content we've been getting recently.

A lot of people talk about the Disney era like it's ruined Star Wars, or like nothing it releases has ever been good. But it just straight up isn't true. It's a little insulting to all of the genuinely wonderful work that is being done by all of these other creators to just brush aside everything that's been coming out recently as awful and bad because some of the MOST recent things have been pretty explicitly hateful towards the Jedi. It's not fun that we had the Ahsoka show immediately followed by the Bad Batch followed by the Acolyte. I hate that, too, it feels like we're on this neverending shitshow of stories explicitly aimed at hating a group of characters for no obvious good reason. But I don't think that the last 6 months or so of bullshit should overshadow some of the really beautiful stories we HAVE gotten within the last several years.

If you feel like things are getting difficult, maybe do a "good Star Wars" marathon of sorts. Watch the Prequels, followed by the Kenobi show, then Andor, then Rebels, then Rogue One, then the Original trilogy. This one long beautiful story of people stepping up to fight against selfishness and greed and darkness no matter what.

Or go rewatch Visions or read some of your favorite fanfics and remember all the things about Star Wars that are just universally cool and compelling across the world. Hell, you can try writing something of your own! Anything! A lot of my AU concepts stemmed from spite and really helped me feel a little bit better about Star Wars when it sometimes felt like I was just surrounded by the parts of it I liked the least. Go buy yourself a cool t-shirt or some fun jewelry. Find some pretty stickers and put it on a water bottle or an enamel pin to put on a canvas tote bag or a corkboard.

Curating your fandom experience goes beyond just the internet. There's a reason I am boycotting the Acolyte and it isn't because I think Disney or its creators are going to care at all. I'm doing it for ME, because I had such a shitty time watching the Ahsoka show and it made me so miserable each week that I seriously think I will be better off just leaving it the hell alone and just absorbing whatever ends up crossing my dash from a distance. I only participate in Star Wars fandom servers that I feel safe in and only really get into discussions with personal friends who I know well. If participating in Star Wars fandom is making you sad, maybe take a step back or find a way to create your own corner of fandom that feels better. Ignore the damn Ahsoka show, pretend it never existed. Ignore the Acolyte. Ignore Tales of the Jedi. Ignore Filoni-related bullshit. Focus on the parts you DO like, or give yourself the space to remember why you liked it in the first place.

[jedi-enthusiast]

If I may, for the Choose Violence Ask Game : 2, 6, 8 and 25 ?

Choose Violence Ask Game: Star Wars Edition

2 - What character did you begin to hate, not because of canon, but because of how fandom acts about them?

Ok, so I know I remind everyone that I don't like Anakin every chance I get, so I'll pick a different answer to keep things interesting...

Probably Jango Fett and mandalorians in general.

I think I could get behind Jango and the mandalorians if people, both in fandom and some of the Disney writers, didn't keep trying to use them to bash the Jedi. Like, they're not really my taste but they can be pretty cool, but almost every fic I've read that include mandalorians just end up using them to basically say- "oh look how bad/dogmatic the Jedi are!"

I can still remember that I was once reading an arranged marriage codywan fic and it was really good...all the way up until Cody started bashing the Jedi, Obi-Wan was thinking shit like "oh Jedi can't have emotions or feel love, I'm so conflicted," and the Council was made out to be a bunch of jackasses that pretty much abused Obi-Wan.

So yeah, the only reason I include mandalorians in my fics or go along with the mando!clones thing, is so that I can either-

1. show the mandalorians realizing- "oh wait, we're the problem aren't we?" -and changing for the better.

or 2. to show the clones' development from- "oh we can't trust the Jedi" -and leaning more into mando culture to- "we love/trust the Jedi" -and them choosing to lean more into Jedi culture.

6 - Opinion on canon and/or fanon use of the secret child trope? Discuss.

I'm gonna be honest, I can't stand it lmao

I know this question isn't specifically about it, but this comes up in fandom mainly as the "Korkie Kenobi" theory and I just...it's so stupid, honestly. Plus, it makes either Obi-Wan, Satine, or both look awful.

Option A - Satine kept the fact that she was pregnant a secret from Obi-Wan, therefore not giving him a choice on whether he wanted to be in the child's life. Satine is an asshole.

Option B - Satine told Obi-Wan that she was pregnant and Obi-Wan decided to fuck off and leave her to raise their kid alone. Obi-Wan is an asshole.

Option C - They both decided that Obi-Wan wouldn't be in the child's life and agreed to lie to Korkie and everyone else because...idk, they don't want to face any consequences for their actions. They're both assholes.

Plus, Satine and Obi-Wan would've been like 15/16 when their year on the run happened---so do people seriously want to romanticize the whole "teen pregnancy" thing? Really?

The secret child thing is just a trope that I can't get behind.

8 - There should be more of this type of fic/art...

Staunchly pro-Jedi fics and comics/art.

I just want more of them lol, they're like toast to me---I could eat a whole bag and still want more, I could read every pro-Jedi fic on Ao3 and then go back to the beginning and read them all over again.

25 - What's your opinion on modern AUs? What makes a good one?

I actually really like modern AUs! I think they can be a lot of fun, especially given all the different ways you can mix things up with them!

I think modern AUs are very versatile, so there isn't really anything that definitively makes one a "good" modern AU fic. I do have a couple things that are an immediate DNF for me for Modern AUs, other than the usual grammar/format things:

1. Jedi bashing, obviously.

2. Removing characters' disabilities.

3. When there's racism/homophobia/bigotry in general and the fic handles it shittily.

4. When the characters are changed so much that they're basically unrecognizable.

[ooops-i-arted]

Every time Gina Carano does something stupid, it’s like a bat signal to me to make more Cara Dune content because I REFUSE to lose a badass character just because the actress is a conspiracy theory-peddling moron.  So in honor of her finally getting banned from Twitter, have a flashback scene from the Caradin fic I’m working on, right after the finale of season 2.  (No romance here in this scene though, it’s canon-compliant if that’s your thing.)

-

Din watched the turbolift door shut, a final wall between him and Grogu, so he could finally let his face fall where his son couldn’t see.  His son… he had just given away his son… what if it wasn’t right?  What if this Jedi wasn’t a good teacher, wouldn’t take care of Grogu the way he needed to be taken care of, he hadn’t even remembered to give Grogu back his favorite ball…

“Hey,” said a voice, and he blinked to try and clear his eyes and turned around.  But Cara was carefully staring at the ground, his helmet lifted in front so she couldn’t see his face.  He took it and put it back on, now self-conscious.  Bo-Katan, Koska, Fennec, and even Gideon were all staring right at him.  He hated it, all he wanted right now was to hide and cry.  He felt like a little boy again, after leaving Aq Vetina with the Mandalorians and realizing his life would never be the same.

“Mando?” Cara asked softly.

He tried to speak.  He didn’t even know what to say and all that came out was a choked sound.

“You know who that was, right?” Cara asked.

“Jedi,” he managed to say.  An enemy sorcerer.  A man I don’t even know, and I just gave him my child.  Grogu wanted to go, but he’s just a kid, he doesn’t know…

“That’s Luke Skywalker,” Cara said.  “He was one of the leaders of the Rebellion, back in the day.  Never met him personally, but he was a hero.  He’s the one who destroyed the Death Star.  That thing that -”  For a split second her face twisted in grief and pain but then it smoothed back out.  “It was what destroyed Alderaan.  And he fired the shot that took it out.  Three years later he killed Darth Vader and the Emperor.  He’s a hero, and on top of that I never heard a bad word about him.  Everyone who fought alongside him said he was loyal and kind and never left a man behind.  I know he will take good care of your kid.  I promise he’s safe.”

Safe.  Din nodded.  Cara wouldn’t lie, not to him, and not about Alderaan.  Hadn’t he just seen himself the Jedi was a formidable warrior?  He could keep Grogu safe…

Boba’s voice crackled over the comm.  “So did you all leave on the X-wing or do you need picked up?”

“It’s all clear.  You can land,” Fennec answered.

“We’re taking this ship,” Bo-Katan said immediately, glaring at Din as if to challenge him.

He couldn’t give a fuck.  His chest hurt as he thought of the Razor Crest, something else lost to this damn quest.  “I don’t care.”

“You leaving with us?” Fennec asked him.  “Dune, what about you?”

“I’m calling for the New Republic,” Cara said.  “I’m going to need help getting this one to Coruscant.”

“He should be killed,” snapped Bo-Katan, looking right at Din.  “He razed Mandalore!  He killed our people!”

“He’s wanted alive,” he told Bo-Katan tiredly.  Cara nodded her thanks and dragged Gideon to his feet.

“I’m claiming this ship!” Bo-Katan declared, looking around as if she expected a protest.

Din didn’t have the energy to give one even if he cared.  “Fine.  We’re leaving.”

Cara dragged Gideon along; Fennec walked alongside them with her blaster ready and Din trailed behind, knowing he was in no state to be helping Cara guard Gideon.  At least Grogu was far away from the Grand Moff, even if Gideon tried anything.

Before he knew it they were in the hangar, Boba standing before Slave 1.  “Oh, that one’s going to fund us for a good long time,” Boba said, sounding pleased.

“I need to rendezvous with New Republic forces on Nevarro so I can arrange transport to Coruscant,” Cara said.  “The payout can be split between all of us there, too.”

“I hope a portion is sent to the survivors of Alderaan,” Gideon said silkily.  “Let them know it’s in my name, will you?”

Cara’s face twisted horribly, and Din quickly asked, “Boba, do you have carboniting equipment?”

“Funny you should ask, I recently added a carboniting unit.  Seemed less maintenance than using the wall cells,” Boba said; his face was behind the helmet but his wolfish grin saturated his voice.  “I’ve been wanting to try it out.”

Gideon hissed in fury, but Din grabbed one arm and Cara the other, and together they shoved him into the unit and Boba activated it, and Gideon was quickly silenced.

“I like him better this way,” muttered Cara.

“Let’s go,” said Fennec, shutting the ship’s ramp and following Boba up to the cockpit.  Din stood there, the noise of the ship ringing through his ears.  He realized the Darksaber was still in his hand.  It felt so heavy.

“Din?”

He blinked and looked up at Cara.  “Huh?”

“I asked what you were going to do now,” Cara asked.

He stared at her, then at the Darksaber, but all he could really see was Grogu.  “I don’t know.”

“Gideon is going to keep me busy… plenty of reports and bullshit paperwork and that’s if I don’t have to report in personally anywhere.  You could come to Nevarro,” Cara offered.

Nevarro.  His old home, but the enclave was burned out now.  He couldn’t ask the Armorer for her counsel this time, or even talk to Paz about the Mandalorian history he loved to study.  Greef had made the place legit; were there even Guild jobs for him to lose himself in anymore?  Maybe he should have stayed in the first place.  Grogu could learn in that little school and he would go back and pick him up and take him home, make him dinner for the evening like he used to do, find some holostory to listen to together…

He almost jumped as suddenly arms wrapped around him and squeezed briefly before letting up.  “Sorry…” said Cara.  “You just looked like you needed it.”

He wrapped his arms back around her and she hugged back, and at least for one moment, he felt anchored again in the world.

-

If you’re curious, the fic will be based off this post I made a while ago.  It takes place after Din and Cara have an established relationship, but Book of Boba Fett inspired me to use flashbacks of how their relationship built over the years.  I’ve been keeping it on the down low because I’m still totally writer’s blocked on Hunter and the Hunted and I plan to finish this one before I start posting to avoid that again because I still feel REALLY bad about it.  😬 

[himbodjarin]

LUNAR; CH11

18+ Explicit Content: Graphic descriptions of gore, violence, and smut; oral sex (male recieving), vaginal sex. Din Djarin/Third Person POV. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18. Chapter Word Count: 12,951 holy fuck Pairing: Din Djarin/F!Reader - no use of y/n

The Mandalorian is a driven warrior — traversing the galaxy in search of the ancient Jedi — but everyone has their weaknesses, and he’s no different. The Bounty Hunter possessed three in fact. One he’s discovered—The Child. The remaining two, though, he wasn’t aware of their existence. At least, not until he meets a valorous Sharpshooter underneath a moonless night sky; then he’s plummeting down a dark mission of self-discovery, questioning his morals and his Creed while the moon taunts him, the phases of the satellite corresponding to his personal revelations. However, the Girl has a dark past that may come to inflict hardships on the Mandalorian and the Child; it's up to the Bounty Hunter to decide her fate.

Read on AO3 / Series Masterlist

CHAPTER ELEVEN: STORM BOY

Tense. That’s the only word to describe the atmosphere—maybe a little suffocating, too—in Peli’s hangar; she’s been highly adaptable in regards to the Mandalorian’s extended stay, though he suspects she doesn’t mind one bit when the Child is in her arms. Speaking of which, he had eventually reawakened in the earlier hours of the morning when the twin suns were making their reappearance over the town. He hadn’t been acting like his usual self—hadn’t demanded attention nor nutrients all day and the Mandalorian doesn’t know how to restore his regular demeanour. 

Mando isn’t a caretaker—he’s uneducated and inexperienced in regards to performing as someone’s guardian. It’s discouraging not being informed on what to do and there’s not a soul alive that can provide their insight into this situation. There isn’t exactly a whole lot of people in the galaxy who might understand the Child’s abilities, much less the side effects that come with it such as his recent behaviour changes.

Not to forget the Girl.

The Girl—the source of the leaps in his heart, twitching in his fingertips, and the harassing ache in his head. She’s impeccable in contrast to him, beautiful and soft and sweet but dank farrik if she doesn’t know how to invade his thoughts as if they were her own; splayed out in the midst of his consciousness serving as a constant reminder of everything he desires. 

Between needing to prioritise the Child and wanting to surrender himself to the Girl, he’s going stir-crazy being confined in such small spaces surrounded by them, which brings him straight back here—pinned down by blaster fire and frantic screams in Huttese. It’s as though he likes it; enjoys the adrenaline coursing through his veins at every laser shot his way. It gives him an edge and provides a distraction from his thoughts, or it used to but since he took in the foundling his mind hasn’t had a chance to take a break—the arrival of the Girl only made matters harder for him. How’s he supposed to focus when all he can envision is her laying bare underneath him or wearing his shirt, only his shirt. It sends him numb from the waist down.

A twinkle of red flies overhead Mando as he army crawls along the metre-high wall to alternate positions, allowing him to gain an upper hand against the cluster of enemies defending their post. There’s a lot of them, fifteen at the least, all equipped with weapons ranging from vibroblades to flame projectors—he hadn’t prepared himself adequately for such a hefty job only armed with his handheld blaster alongside his amban rifle, though he’s running short on cartridges and decides to save them for when he’s in a pinch. Amongst his blasters he’s low on fuel for the flames in his vambrace, having used a vast majority of it on a heavy-duty lurker mere minutes prior to this shootout.

Putting it simply, Mando was in a dilemma—forced between a rock and a hard place—a real catch-22. He’s reliant on his blasters and that alone as he hadn’t communicated to the Girl about his commission received nor his departure from the hangar. There’s nobody coming to aid him—nobody here to watch as he takes one too many blaster bolts—but he doesn’t mind; actually, he prefers it. It’s as though he’s returned to his earlier years of being a Mandalorian, dependent on himself and his tools and unafraid of death; equipped with nothing but the beskar on his back and the decades-worth of abilities fine-tuned to suit his combat style perfectly. 

Mando won’t go down easy, it’s not in his blood; not the blood of his relatives, but his manufactured Mandalorian blood. He’s been taught to fight - survive and to die here from lousy Klatoonian troopers wouldn’t be warriorlike—especially not with his head wracked with stubbornness regarding his crewmates. Nevertheless, there’s a heaviness in his chest - deep and thick and pleading with him to turn around; to return to the Crest with the Girl and the kid. It’s warning him—the increased beating in his ribs suggesting things aren’t in his favour, but he can’t just leave, not without figuring out what he’s to do for the Child.

And if he was to die here on this scummy rock of a planet, surrounded by nothing but sand, heat, and blasters, it wouldn’t necessarily be all that bad—it’d salvage the Girl and the kid from having to see him die, see him take his last breath.

They’ll be okay in the long run. They’ll care for each other and the Crest will protect them; be their support anchor.

They don’t need to be there when his heart stops beating.

They don’t need to see that.  

It’s a macabre series of thoughts. He sighs groggily and hoists himself up to peer over the barricade, observing two Klatoonian soldiers communing at the top of their post, neither of their eyes on the Mandalorian stealthily underneath—it’s a good opportunity, one with a short duration to act. Mando scans the area for any others on the lookout and climbs the wooden rungs carefully, ensuring he’s making minimal sound to not drag their attention to him. 

At the peak of the tower, Mando fires a bolt at the back of the head to the one on the right and it drops stiffly, the left’s turning around sharply and thrusting a spear in his direction. Mando’s leathers wrap around the shaft and yank it from his clasp, turning it around and penetrating the Klatoonian in the chest above his heart plate. His body plummets to the surface with the spear lodged inside of his torso and Mando steps up towards the edge of the watchtower, counting the visible heads aimed at the barricade he’d been behind a few moments ago. There’s eight to his left, five with rifles and three with melee weapons, and six to his left, all equipped with short-ranged blasters, and another couple secured in the structure below him. 

It’s way out of his comfort zone—there’s far too many for him to take down without receiving some new scars to paint his flesh; he’d already obtained one today. It’s small, not something to fret over, but the gash on his side pulses each time he raises his arm to fire a laser. He’d been distracted while in the midst of combat, his thoughts preoccupied with large green batwing ears, and one of the Klatoonian’s managed a nasty slash to his waist. The assailant was taken care of, of course, but the damage was done and now his movements had been slowed by a hairline fracture—not a lot, but every second counted when on the battlefield.

Mando unclasps the strap of his amban rifle and rests it on the trim of the watchtower’s partition, gazing through the scope as he assesses the situation. There are only three canisters left. Three opportunities to disintegrate and put an end to an overabundance of hostiles. He needs to play it smart; needs to ensure he doesn’t exhaust his ammunition needlessly.

His eyes lock on to an unscathed, ominous-looking canister perched upon a table beside one of their campfires where six of them have gathered around, devouring what looked to be a scorched womp rat. They’re confident in their abilities, not concerning themselves with patrolling the borders for the Mandalorian’s reappearance—a mistake they won’t live to regret. Mando twists the mid-section of the rifle’s scope, scaling in to focus on the canisters’ hazardous symbol painted into the sides. 

Surely they’re not that foolish.

It’s worth a shot—Mando aims for the weakest point in the canister and squeezes the trigger, leather crunching underneath his force and he traces the bolt of red as it nestles a burning hole through the capsule and explodes abruptly upon impact, producing a very loud bang that echoes through the valley for klicks. So they are that stupid to leave out combustible materials, right beside an open flame no less. Four of the six instantly plummet to the ground from the explosion, while the other two attempt to fight off the suffocating flames engulfing their bodies. It’s no use and they, too, fall to a charred heap among the grit; it sticks to their melting flesh with vengeance.

The remainder of the adversaries stand in stunned silence as their heads frantically spin and twist, searching for any sign of the direction the bolt had originated. Mando pops out the empty cartridge from his rifle, listening to the satisfying tink as it bounces along the wooden surface beneath his boots and rolls to a stop beside a corpse. Heaving his leg upwards, he slips another cylinder out of his boot and slides it into the chamber. The nest of Klatoonians have scattered throughout the campgrounds, shielding behind walls of sandstone and supply crates where they blend into a mass of dark greens and browns—Mando activates his thermal vision in order to distinguish the bodies as they peer curious heads out from behind their positions.

His sight is isolated to stone-blue over the landscape except for a blush of orange-red jutting out from the top of a crate, the unsuspecting Klatoonian’s head twisting and turning wildly. Mando shouldn’t fire—shouldn’t waste a shell on a singular soldier, not when there’s still plenty left—but, perhaps, if he eliminates one that’s hiding, they might fall into hysteria and rush out of their concealments. There’s not a whole lot of options from this position—if the watchtower was on the opposing side then he’d be set; easily pick them off one by one with his blaster pistol, but that’s not a course of action now.

Mando flexes his finger against the small of his trigger but doesn’t get the chance to squeeze before there’s a weight on his pauldron—faint, but enough for him to blindly thrust his arm against the figure and knock them against the railings, his hand retrieving his blaster from the holster on his thigh and directing it at the orange heat. Its hands raise swiftly, empty, and the familiar soft, sweet voice he’s grown accustomed to fills his ears, “Hey, hey, it’s me!”

“What’re-”

“Peli told me you went out. Something about a kidnapped girl? Why didn’t you tell me?”

He huffs, returns his blaster to its sleeve and disengages his thermal; returning the colour and the Girl’s features to his vision. She’s eyeing at his side, her eyebrows stitched together in concern but decides not to ask. “It was a ploy. There’s no girl.”

She sighs in relief but notes down his dismissal to her questioning. “Okay, let’s go then. I took out three on my way here and there’s more coming. We’re sitting mynocks up here.”

“No.”

The Girl cocks an eyebrow at Mando and he returns to his scope to avoid her attention. “Let’s go,” she whispers through clenched teeth, digging her fingers into the soft of his shoulder where his pauldron couldn’t shield. She drops the appendage when he shrugs underneath her clutch, obviously peeved at something she couldn’t read on him. “Mando, come on. There’s no girl, there’s nothing to prove to these guys.”

His throat grumbles as he attempts to stifle the thoughts in his head, not wanting to implode at the Girl and potentially startle her, but it’s difficult keeping everything caged up all the time—from his miserable thoughts regarding himself to the domineering cravings deep within his core. It’s too fucking much. If there was a key to it all he’d surely have tossed on a desolate planet by now, somewhere nobody, not even himself, will discover it. 

He snaps.

“I have something to prove—I need to know I’m still useful.” Mando involuntarily groans at his childish outburst. It’s on par with the Child’s when he doesn’t get his way.

He’s not someone to express his emotions and especially not to direct it at another; not the Girl.

“Of course you’re useful, Mando. What’re you talking about?”

Caf-coloured eyes flicker behind the visor and he squeezes them shut, discarding the threats below as he tries to focus on not derailing all of his insecurities at the Girl. He doesn’t want to confess all of the little nitpickings he’s accumulated throughout his life—he’s learned to keep them buried underneath the rubble of trauma that is his daily life—and he especially doesn’t want her to see him so….sensitive; it’s not an attractive feature on him.

Mando’s mouth moves on it’s own accord, suppressed beliefs regarding himself misdirecting at the Girl in surges of angry jeering, “I used to be feared, used to wear this armour with pride; represented the Creed with the beskar the artisans forged for me. Ever since you waltzed in my life, I’ve…” He sighs, his shoulders visibly sagging as he exhales. “My competence has crumbled to dust that resolves from a gentle wind. I’m getting hit, shot, stabbed because I can’t get you off my fucking mind.”

He unknowingly strokes a finger down the barrel of his rifle, as if to imply he’d been shot with one of the pellets—nothing more than mere particles left of him.

He doesn’t need to look at her to acknowledge he’s gone too far—gone and pushed her away—and the lack of noise she produces is mockingly deafening. 

But then there’s that faint, gentle weight on his pauldron again, dragging him from his dissecting and to her eyes filled with reassurance and tenacity. Mando finds himself like an icy dessert underneath the twin suns; liquefying beneath her gaze. 

There’s a lot on his plate right now with the Child’s current situation and the Guild still coming after them—she knows this, and he knows that she knows; she’s accommodating to the unavoidable bursts that may escape him occasionally. She doesn’t need to, but she’s willing to; volunteers as his subject until it’s all out in open air and they can proceed. Mando simultaneously respects that—that he’s allowed to vent even if it means she gets a little bit of venom splattered at her—and despises himself for his misguided resentment.

Mando doesn’t genuinely blame the Girl for his lacking; he’s well aware it’s his own negligence. It’s his responsibility to maintain the upkeep of his abilities, his responsibility to protect himself and his companions as a Mandalorian. It’s just easier to push the blame on another; to pretend it’s out of his reach—out of his control.

“Let’s go,” she repeats, slower. “Please, Mando.”.

I’m sorry, he wants to say. I don’t mean it.

He’s never been good with words.

Hands more experienced than his vocals, he draws a line with his thumb across the curve of her jaw and settles it on the tip of her chin to crane her head back just enough that enables his eyes to swallow the stretched skin of her neck. “Okay,” he murmurs and releases her, withdrawing the rifle from its perch.

She sighs when his leather retires from her face and stumbles over one of the corpses in her daze. She takes the lead down the ladder while he keeps watch from the top, ensuring no Klatoonian’s sneak up on her while vulnerable, and she reciprocates the favour when she’s at the bottom.

“There’s a speeder bike just beyond the walls,” the Girl says once his boots are on firm ground, the sand crunching underneath his weight.

“We won’t both fit on it.”

“Sure we will,” she chuckles. “It’ll be snug, is all.”

Mando scoffs to himself and peers around a sandstone corner, squinting as the suns disorient his vision, but he gets a quick glance at a stroke of red about a metre ahead of him—and then a familiar symbol: hazardous product. 

“Get down!” he yells, but it’s not fast enough - not fucking fast enough - and he’s flung into the parallelled wall. There’s pressure in his neck and spine, his helmet reverberates against the sandstone, and he slips onto his shoulder in the grit; his lesion collecting the sand molecules and painting them red. Pain stretches from the heels of his feet to the back of his head but he hasn’t got the opportunity to examine himself over—the Girl, where is the Girl?

Mando hisses as his head flexes, searching through the cloud of dust and rubble for his companion; heart hurdling over the gaps of beating and his fists balling against the land to keep him off his side.

“Mesh’la,” he croaks. “Where-oh, are-”

She’s hastily beside him, unscathed besides a few grazes across her forehead and hands—hands that are trembling against his beskar, investigating his condition with manic eyes. “Shit, shit, sh-”

There’s an attempt to calm her nerves on his part, placing a stocky leather weight on top of her hand to indicate he’ll be okay, but she doesn’t believe him—he’s still on the ground, apprehensive of moving in fear of what he may discover.

He moans at a twinge in his neck and carefully scrambles to his feet with her aid, her hands submerging into the flight suit for leverage, but it’s a mistake; his legs are numb and can’t support his weight and he has to rely on the wall to remain perpendicular and not tumble on top of her small frame. 

She navigates a hand to his throbbing lesion, covering it with her palm to protect it from further invasion of particles, and the other rests against the back of his neck for reinforcement.

It’s exhausting standing like he’s made of beskar and not just wearing it - anchoring him to the ground, and it’s even worse attempting to move, his legs hot and heavy as his soles drag through the terrain. 

“I got you,” she mumbles to herself, tucking into his side.

There’s a warmth at the back of his neck, his head, underneath her hand; hot, scalding and threatening. It fucking hurts—this isn’t a concussion, he quickly realises, he’s had plenty of them to discern easily; this is different, worse, concerning. The adrenaline is doing very little to conceal the pain and he emits half-groans-half-exhales in protest to his body’s tensing. It’s something he hadn’t experienced before, something that he can’t prepare himself to face the facts.

His leather tugs at the hand on his neck and the Girl hesitantly complies with his request, removing it from the cowl and bringing it ahead of his visor for examination. “What’s the mat- Shit, is that from your head?” she asks, hand trembling. ”

Mando confirms his suspicions; a dark thick coating of the finest Mandalorian blood staining the Girl’s delicate fingers. It’s not good, not ideal, but he wasn’t dead yet and they couldn’t stay pinned down here. “It’s not that bad,” he professes.

“Not that b- your fucking head is bleeding! Fuck, okay, okay. Sit down, here.” She aids him to sink onto an underturned crate against the stone wall and removes a small satchel that rests among her hip. “There’s a medpac in there. Fix yourself up while I go take care of these assholes. Don’t go anywhere.”

“No, wait-” Mando slips his blaster out of his holster and into her free hand, his leathers discreetly caressing the backs of bruising skin before letting her retreat. She glances at him one last time, doing her best to convince herself he won’t bleed out before she makes it back. “You better return,” he whispers as she disappears behind the corner, dual blasters aimed high in her sights.

You better return to me.

Mando turns his attention to the pounding at the back of his neck, the blood pooling inside his helmet, seeping into the thick of his cowl, running beneath the material of his back. What good was a helmet if not to protect your head?

Tatooine’s desert is no match for his throat, it’s suns mere wisps of flames—he’s starting to go into shock and he strives to fight it, his fists clenching and relaxing rhythmically but he can only hold on for so long before it overcomes him. Fuck, he’s so exhausted, his legs numb and throbbing with short bursts of tension beneath the muscles.

The satchel is heavy like a bantha offspring in his lap - taunting and restricting - but he raids its contents in the hope it’ll distract him; it doesn’t. Mando can’t—won’t—dress the wound, not here, not when there’s Klatoonian’s running around with murder on their mind and the Girl in their sights. It can wait—he can wait.

But he’s no help in this condition and he’ll only be a nuisance if he were to go against the Girl’s orders—he’s not that foolish.

He groans, deep and scratchy that tickles his dry throat, and tosses his head back against the wall—prompting a red reservoir to leak from his wound, his vision fuzzy with black and piercing white spots. Fuck. Stupid. So stupid.

“Mando. Mando?”

There’s a tapping against his visor that triggers his ears to ring and his head to throb. His eyes open to see the Girl before him, her face contorted into unpleasant angles of concern; he misses her smile, how her eyes squinted when she laughs.

“Come on, there’s a gap. We need to go.”

“Can’t move,” he whines.

“Use me then.”

He’s apprehensive; she’s small and dainty compared to all the beskar and with his worsening condition his weight will only multiply each step they take.

“Mando!”

She’ll only continue to persist and, to avoid her casualty along with his, he fists the fabric of her shirt and drags himself to his feet, utilising her as a crutch as she navigates him through the narrow alleys of the encampment. They follow a trail of corpses, blood, and blaster holes that he hadn’t even heard ring throughout the desert, his senses so colourless. His boots are alike durasteel; heavy and tight around his feet, constricting and dragging through the sand behind him. He yearns to kick them off, stretch his toes. 

“Left here,” she instructs, twisting his body to a breach in their wall that’ll serve as their escape route perfectly; out of sight, in the far back that’ll provide them enough time to head for the dunes before they’re on their tail—or not. A bolt tinks against Mando’s vambrace grappled around her shoulders, but she’s not messing around - not letting a foolhardy Klatoonian interrupt their evasion. She bends her body just enough to point her blaster at the soldier without disturbing Mando’s positioning and crushes the trigger against the hilt, a vibrant red shooting out of the barrel, skimming through the air and whistling as it burrows a burning hole into his chest—all without looking.

Mando groans, impressed, “Where - where’d you learn that?”

She scoffs in amusement and continues trudging to the hole in the wall. “Well, you’re always so quick to point blasters you never let me show off. Could’ve aided you if you weren’t so metalheaded all the time.”

“Is that so?” Mando huffs a breath as a laugh. “Might have to upgrade your blaster then.”

“I think you need more upgrading than me right now.”

“Not - not a droid.”

She chuckles and assists him in ducking through the hole. “No, but you do need some repairs.”

The speeder bike sits only a few metres away from them; small, dainty, not suitable for a passenger. “Won’t-” he gasps, “-fit.”

She pats his chest for reassurance. “Well, you’re gonna have to. Get on.”

Mando slings a leg over either side of the speeder and lowers onto the back of it, uncomfortable and awkwardly positioned but it’ll have to do. “I can’t drive.”

She teases, “Oh, I know, I’ve seen you pilot.” She seats herself between the handlebars and Mando’s hunched body, patting the side of his thigh to indicate him to scooch closer. “Come on, you’ll fall off back there.”

Mando obeys her commands, his inner thighs pressing against the outside of her frame and beskar squeezed between both of their bodies, an arm gingerly curves around her midsection for greater support and it permits him an opportunity to be close to her - to hold her even if it’s not exactly how he imagines it.

“Go,” he instructs, visor tilted at the influx of Klatoonians emerging from the exit way.

Speeder hums to life, repulsorlift engine vibrates underneath their bodies and sags the vehicle towards the ground at the additional weight of him. She flexes her fingers around the throttle and zips off in the opposite direction of the gathering army, zigging and zagging to dodge the incoming bolts that kick up the dust ahead of them, one of them just barely managing to skid against Mando’s pauldron from this distance. She’s a good driver—avoiding missable dunes and anything else that might jolt him off, but the constant sharp turns don’t assist with his increasing headache and he tucks the peak of his helmet between her shoulder blades, concentrating on the rise and fall of her lungs.

In, out, in, out; fast and shaky like a collapsing tree in a brutish storm.

“Passed by an abandoned cantina on my way here,” the Girl says, mostly to ensure he doesn’t fall unconscious. “We can set up there. Take care of you. Be back before nightfall. Sound good?”

“Nnngh,” he groans. “Out of fucking action, again.”

“There was no way to know they had explosives. Don’t blame yourself.”

“That’s not true - used it against them. Should’ve - should’ve figured they’d do the same.” 

The Girl’s back flexes as she twists the handlebars and sharply turns behind a cluster of boulders, casting them in a thick shadow and providing a break in blaster fire. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Mando. I’ll fix you up and we’ll go see the kid, yeah? He’ll be waiting for ya.” It falls on deaf ears, Mando too preoccupied with not passing out and sliding off the speeder—there’s so traction, nothing to support his weight, and he maneuvers his chin to rest against her shoulder questing for the cushioning of flesh to soothe the throbbing in his head.

Normally, the heat of Tatooine suns posed as a nuisance with all of the layers he donned, but now it’s comforting and Mando welcomes it with open arms—the heat equalising with that of his neck—like a temperate bath drawn just for him and he sinks his toes in the waters, moaning at the buoyancy and how light he feels - how unrestricted he is without the beskar.

The Girl slaps his thigh, though it does very little to draw him out of his daydreaming; perceptions desensitising as his weight gradually distributes to her, forcing her shoulders down so she’s almost laying on the speeder with him atop of her. 

“Mando, fuck, come on. Get up, you’re heavy - we’re gonna crash.”

“Can’t.” 

It’s all he can manage to slip out of the drought of his mouth, his lips catching on his teeth. He’s so heavy, blood converted into uncured duracrete that sags through his veins, thick and clumpy and asphyxiating.

“Just hang in there, all right? We’re almost there. Stay awake.”

She sounds so far away, so out of his reach, and his fingers subconsciously dig into the shirt—struggling to latch onto her as though she’ll disappear if he doesn’t—but it feels like he’s grasping at mist; the particles just floating through his digits as he clenches around nothing. He’s breathing it in, dense and cloudy with a taste like smoke and rotten flesh, coagulating in his lungs until he’s spluttering inside the helm at the assault.

Mando doesn’t feel the speeder come to an abrupt stop, doesn’t register he’s been relocated inside the cantina she spoke of until he’s on the floor propped up against a wall; beskar scraping against the stone as he fights off not collapsing to his side and welcome the duracrete as his eternal resting spot. She blocks the door with a bystanding chair, just in case, and returns to his side on her knees, hands frantic and gliding all over his heaving body; it’s oddly comforting - her touches crafted with the healing properties of bacta and his eyes slip closed to envision them slow and grazing along his skin, along his chest and neck, dainty fingers wiping away the dark circles underneath his eyes.

“You didn’t dress the wound?” she questions, dipping her fingers into his cowl and amassing metallic crimson at the tips. “Stubborn son of a-”

“I won’t make it,” he interjects, helm twisting to admire her—memorising her beauty in hopes it’ll remain with him in the afterlife. Her lips raw from the onslaught of pearly whites, her eyebrows taut with concern, eyes shifty as she investigates his bodily injuries; it’s an unfortunate circumstance, yet her beauty knows no bounds—she’s in fear and shock of letting him slip through her fingers but she’s still so fucking breathtaking.

“You’re getting out of this.” 

She files through the medpac stocked with minimal medical supplies, having used a vast sum of it on her the night prior. There’s not enough for both of them, her lashes still needing tending to, and Mando tries to stop her; tries to explain there’s a good chance the bacta won’t even make it to his system before he shuts down, but nothing but a soft groan flutters past his lips - his subconscious taking control over his obscurity. ”

The Girl’s scared, terrified, more than he’s ever seen her before, more than back on the spacecraft; more than when she speculated he would kill her. It shoves needles into his heart looking at her like this, looking at her be so fucking concerned for his health more than her own—she should leave, she needs to leave. They’ll be coming for him. This is why he came alone—why he didn’t want anybody around when his heart stops beating—why he’s been sidestepping around her.

Perhaps if he hadn’t been so detached she’d be back safe in the Crest and he wouldn’t be slowly hemorrhaging to death.

She’s been around him too long; her brain picking up the most minute details he lets slip past his beskar walls. “I’m not leaving you,” she reassures, reading his mind.

“Need to.”

“I won’t.”

Mando whispers her name in short puffs, uttering the beautiful title that is solely her into the sand-buried cantina and strokes a delicate line across her cheekbone to her jaw where he rests his hand. It clenches underneath the leather - Mando swipes his thumb over the front of her chin sweetly, tenderly, just feeling her contours and arches. “Go.”

“Mando,” she forcibly smiles, “you’re an idiot if you think you’re dying here.”

She’s as stubborn as a Bluurg - he smiles.

He’s beginning to understand now—why the Girl hadn’t notified him of her past—or, then again, maybe he already figured it out and chose to ignore it, to replace desires with rationality. Perhaps that’s why, despite all of the suppressed emotions expanding against the confines of a metaphorical transparisteel bottle, he subconsciously found ways to distance himself from her. Utilising the Child’s priority, feigning resentment, straight-up leaving her in the dark—why he was still isolating himself even after their cin vhetin. 

After all, it’s easier to care for a skeleton in the closet than the very alive passion in his chest. But it’s easier to neglect the corpse—forget the closet entirely—than the mania; that never stops, never allows him a brief moment to recuperate his thought process.

“I forgive you,” he mumbles with a smile, a smile she won’t get to see. “I forgive you, ner mesh’la.”

It’s only when you’ve forgiven her that you’ll truly move forward.

That’s what he wants; to move forward.

If he doesn’t make it out alive, she deserves to know—she should know how he feels towards her, even if it’s not reciprocated.

She freezes, hands hovering over him with a tremble that matches his heart’s; her eyes sliding close—it’s for his benefit, he realises, she doesn’t want her pathetic sobbing to be the last thing he sees. 

It’s not pathetic in the slightest; how could somebody so intangible ever be considered pathetic?

With quivering muscles, Mando presses his leather flat against her cheek to collect a stray tear. It rolls along the curve of his thumb and soaks into the wrist of his flight suit, the moisture felt against his skin and he moans in a blend of delight and pain; a drops worth of Her converging against his flesh, staining it with salt. 

“I forgive you,” Mando repeats to himself.

Grief is etched into her eyes when she finally peels the thin lids back, her pupils flickering across the visor desperate to discover the eyes behind the cold blackness. There’s a pang in her heart that pulsates each time his chest collapses underneath her hands, counting down the rise and falls until it inevitably discontinues. “You’re not dying here.” Her lips are pulled taut against her teeth, cheeks wet with tears. “I won’t allow it. The kid needs you. I need you. End of discussion, all right?”

Mando’s head tilts, an overly enthusiastic tug in the corner of his mouth.

“All right,” he permits. 

“Good.” The Girl wipes at her eyes with the sleeve of the shirt; his shirt. “Sit forward, let me fix that head of yours.”

“Helmet,” he groans.

Oh, how his creed screws with him, obstructs him from the most basic aspects of life.

“It doesn’t need to come off.” She drives him forwards off the wall and wraps an arm across the front of his shoulders, a leg clipping behind him and another in front over his lap, snuggly positioning him between her legs so he doesn’t collapse either side. She’s tepid, pillowy, and he allows himself to lean into her, his pauldron squishing into her chest. “It’ll just be hard to tell if it’s sealed,” she narrates to herself as she digs through his cowl where it obscures the underneath of his helmet. “Is this okay?”

He nods, fingers itching in his gloves.

Delicate, smooth fingers trail beneath the rim of his helmet—his breath hitches—and slip through the gap. Mando swallows the moans and twitches she produces when she brushes around the wound, charting out its size, location, and severity. She’s so close to him, so fucking close; her hand is inside the helmet, inside his personal space, inside his Creed—fingers tangling with his overgrown locks, curls knotting around creeping digits dragging them in and holding them against his skull while blood cakes onto her skin.

Bacta spray expels from the flacon in her clutch and adheres to the wound, the properties immediately getting to work reconstructing the fractured cells. It’s sticky, burns against the sensitivity, the groaning is unavoidable but he centres on his breathing and slacking his muscles.

“That’s it,” she coos, patting his far-end pauldron, “relax.”

The consoling reminds him of the nights he’d spent staying up with the kid, murmuring reassuring words he’d plucked from the depths of his memories as a child and he hums at the bittersweet remembrances—they’re faded now with his age, as though he watched it through the eyes of a passerby in a dense crowd, too difficult to focus on the exact detailing but everything that mattered remained; the scratchiness of his father’s beard against his forehead each night, his mother’s subdued tone lulling him to sleep, both of their warmth encasing him on chilly nights surrounded by the village’s campfire.

Mando didn’t have the luxury of a rewarding life - the privilege - the right. There’s not much he remembers from his youth, much less than the average with the trauma he’s endured. He doesn’t want that for the kid, doesn’t want him to forget Mando; he means too much to him and it’d tear his heart beyond death if those memories were buried by the same trauma that keeps Mando awake—the same trauma that draws him right back to a battlefield as a coping mechanism. 

Mando’s been living the way of Resol’nare for decades now—ba’jur bal beskar’gam, ara’nov, aliit, Mando’a bal Mand’alor - An vencuyan mhi, he recites the rhyme, obey the commands of Mandalore—his soul intact and a designated spot in Manda reserved just for him; it’s a great honour, one any dar’manda would be envious of, yet he’s uncertain - tentative of the afterlife. He’ll be alone again. Just like before the Child was placed into his care. Just like before he met the Girl. Nobody will be there to welcome him—no parents, no relatives, no friends, no-one.

Twitches coursing along his spine and the back of his neck does little to soothe his nerves regarding his mortality, his body tense and rigid as though he was already proceeding with rigour mortis. He mustn’t be concealing it well as the Girl draws him closer into her chest, his helmet resting against the side of her head as she continues administering the spray, a hand smoothing along the curve of his neck to rest there.

He’s positioned just like he had that night the Mandalorians rescued him, the same fear and panic pulling at his tendons and compressing his lungs, seeking comfort from his saviour—like a scared little boy. 

It’s both humiliating and heartening; the Girl being so delicate with him despite being dipped in a coating of sharp, cold beskar head-to-toe. It’s committed to protecting him, to aid him when all else fails, and yet she’s the one he wants to surround himself with. She’s elastic-y and pliable—versatile for any situation he throws her way—made of exotic materials from the most desolate planets in the Outer Rim. 

Mando wonders what her hands would feel like elsewhere; tending to the wounds he accumulates among his torso, rubbing at the aging lines of his face—always taking care of him. Mando forages underneath the stockiness that is his heart plate and cowl, leathers wrap around the small beskar pendant amidst his chest and rips the lace from around his neck. It’s shiny, rarely exposed to elements and harsh sunlight, but still worn with age and he runs a padded thumb along a steel tusk protruding from the skull.

The Girl pats him on the curvature of neck and shoulder one last time before retracting her hand from his helmet and returning him against the wall; he nearly mopes at the lack of her. “That’s that. I applied a thick coat so you should be okay, give it a moment to settle in.” She wipes her bloody hand against the thigh of her pants and clips the bottom of his helmet between a thumb and forefinger, twisting it to look at her. “How are you feeling?”

Mando considers. The majority of the pain had vanished, or numbed, and his senses are making a steady comeback but the whole ordeal has left him drained, too exhausted to even think about manipulating his muscles to utter a sentence in reply. He does, though, he doesn’t want her worrying more than she already is. “It’s an improvement. Thank you.”

“Let me take a look at this.” She lightly taps around the gash on his side to test his reactivity. It’s not a deep wound—no cauterising today—and he sighs with relief when she fingers through the medpac to recover a bacta patch. He’ll need proper care eventually but it’s all they possess way out here.

Mando flinches when she inches the flight suit out of the way, hissing.

She searches the satchel and retrieves an all-too-familiar pouch, his eyes hardening. “Why do you have that?”

“It can be used as medicine,” she mumbles, suddenly uncertain. “It helped me, it can numb the pain.”

Mando glares at the narcotics, shaking his head obstinately. “No -- no, it’s addictive. You shouldn’t have that. I don’t want you using it.” His muscles tense at his plea, hoping she doesn’t read into it and discover its underlying reasonings—how concerned he is. “It should - should be disposed of. It’ll only entice-”

“I’m not addicted to it, Mando. It was a one-time thing.”

“It’s-”

She cuts him off with a gentle sigh and shoves the pouch back into the satchel. “Was just trying to lessen the pain, ya know, guess you’ll have to endure it. Might teach you some manners.”

His eyes soften, his chest lax; he’s starting to make a habit of blowing things out of proportion—it’ll only drive the Girl away if he persists. His thumb assaults the surface of the pendant in his clutch, rubbing it raw, and folds his adjacent hand over hers poignantly. She understands his sentiment, offering him a small smile that puts his concerns at ease.

She’s too benevolent for her own good—too compliant to his immaturity.

She changes the subject. “This is all getting old real fast, you know. All this patching up we keep doing for each other. We oughta take a break somewhere. Could be good for the kid.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t take breaks, not when he’d been injured and definitely not when he’s a fugitive but hearing the Girl suggest one makes his thoughts run wild creating phony scenarios where the three of them could spend time somewhere secluded other than the Crest. Somewhere far away from all the fucking sand. 

It could be good for the kid, could help him return to himself being out in free lands without the worry of a lurking Guild member aimed to either kill or capture him.

Mando parts his lips but he’s cut off before he’s even constructed a sentence in his mind; the rhythmic strums of speeder bikes nearing their quarters. He activates his sonic detectors and isolates the audio, concentrating on the alternating warbling while the Girl fists the hilt of her blaster instinctively in preparation. “There’s two,” he claims.

“Okay, wait here.”

“Wait, wait.” Mando catches her wrist as she stands to arrest her raring thoughts. He unclasps the strap across his chest and maneuvers the rifle around from his back and shoulders, gingerly pressing the wintry steel barrel into her palm. “There’s one cartridge loaded.” His hand snakes to his boot and retrieves the final cylinder, relinquishing his paramount foundation to survival.

She stares at him with wide eyes filled with wonder and questions he can’t pinpoint, hands examining the Amban-phase pulse rifle loosely clutched in her palms. A soft, genuine smile sketches into the curve of her lips and she gratefully accepts his offer, perching herself against a window to observe the vastness outside. 

Mando can’t manage to see past her, the window too high from his angle, so he entitles himself to travel her frame; monitoring—recording—her posture, alternating foot and knee flat against the duracrete and her shoulders pulled taut where the stock rests in the crevice. The posture of a Sharpshooter.

She sucks in a shallow breath and slowly exhales, her lips curling into a smile as her eyes lock onto an unguarded Klatoonian through the lens.

Mando quietly chuckles underneath his beskar and subconsciously runs his thumb along the beskar pendant once more, his eyes never tearing away from the Girl—she’s like the Child when he’s given the knob of his control throttle; devilishly grinning with a mischievous glimmer in their eye. 

He recounts how curious she had been regarding his rifle, how she used to pester him just to get a glimpse of the silver barrel. I’ll get my hands on it one day and I won’t be giving it back, she had said once and seeing that excitement in her eyes now only insisted on the claim. 

A micro pellet shoots out the fork-tipped tubing, the sound reverberating inside the structure for a moment before it settles to silence. Assessing the expression on her face, she hits her mark. A surge of pride runs underneath Mando’s muscles—the Girl utilising his sniper as if it belongs in her arms, fashioned just for her hands and fingers—followed by an unrelenting tide of arousal through his veins and to his crotch; maybe she can keep the rifle.

The Mandalorian has only ever had material possessions, so seeing her exercise his tools of survival like her own—squeezing the trigger, hugging the stock, peering through the lens—pressing her body up against the exact rifle he’d press against - fuck, if it doesn’t stimulate dark, inappropriate, disturbing thoughts and a tingling sensation at the base of his stiffening cock. 

Embarrassed from his condition—wounded and bloody and fucking horny—he droops his eyes to the opened bacta gel. It’s laughable. It seems each time he’s injured and she’s touching him, taking care of him, his arousal decides it’s time to awaken. She must think he gets off on it; that’s enough to make him cringe under his helm. 

Another blast echoes the spacious room and this time he hears the pop of the second Klatoonian, followed by a soft exhale from the Girl at her accomplishments. “That’s taken care of,” she sighs. “Sorry, Mando, I don’t think you can have this back.”

Mando rolls his eyes but a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“How do you suppose you’ll use it without any more ammunition?”

She huffs and props the rifle against the wall beside him. “Oh, I’m sure you have plenty hidden away. I mean, why not gimme yours? I’m a better shot than you--”

“We don’t know that.”

“--and you did destroy mine, remember?”

Actually—he’d almost forgotten. It’s the entire circumstance that scripted their journey through the Outer Rim together, but with everything that’s happened within the past few days, he wasn’t exactly in the right mindset to be thinking about their agreed-upon reimbursement.

The Girl continues, “We should make a contest for it. Whoever's the better shot, gets to keep it. Sounds fair to me.”

Mando scoffs and reminds, “There’s no ammunition, mesh’la.”

“Come on, just admit you’re scared of losing.” She pauses to allow him to pipe up. He doesn’t. “Okay then. I’m getting you fixed up and then we’re going to the Crest to get ammunition and then I’m gonna kick your ass in this challenge.”

“I never agreed--”

“You’re not getting out of this that easily, Mando.”

He hums in feigned thought; she seems satisfied with herself and lowers to her knees beside him once more, hands uncorking a canister of water to flush the lesion of grit and administer a clump of soothing gel. She’s astonishingly fast and precise; she’s not joking about this competition—he’ll be in trouble if she proceeds. Nevertheless, having her hands so close to—fuck—he jolts abruptly and repositions himself so he’s concealing the bulge in his lap, extracting a concerned yet confused glare from her.

“It’s sensitive,” he lies through his teeth, but she nods her head with the allegation.

Her hands smooth over a bacta patch underneath his flight suit—another ripped garment alongside his cloak—and he moans as the patch pulses a soothing burst that numbs the slash and lessens the tenderness. 

“Okay, you’re all set. How’s that head of yours feeling?”

Always taking care of him; always so concerned.

Beskar is weighted in his palm and he returns his attention to the pendant, shimmering in the sunlight cascading through the windows and reflecting onto the ceiling above them. Mando’s head angles to the side as he slips the torn threads through his fingers and pries them apart, the beskar dangling in the middle of the lace, to slide his knuckles along the sides of the Girl’s neck until he’s at the rear. She gazes down at the pendant stowed against her sternum as he secures a taut knot, mindful of the strands of hair as to not entangle them together.

Pulling away, he hooks a forefinger along the thread and collects the beskar at the bottom where he rubs a thumb along the face of the skull. 

His vocoder whirrs a humming sound, “Better, mesh’la, much better. Thank you.”

“What’s this for?” she questions, examining the necklace incredulously.

“You.” It’s simple - sweet - truthful; it’s all hers. She doesn’t seem entirely content with his answer, her eyebrows stitching together as she mulls the symbolic gesture. He takes mercy on her rationalising, albeit awkwardly, “I can’t return a mutual connection. Can’t give you me - wholly. I received this necklace as part of my initiation to the Creed denoting my trust, my devotion, and it’s been with me since I was a boy.”

She lifts her eyes to the visor as he shares, her hands resting atop his still playing with the pendant. 

“It’s a part of my Creed—a part of me. I want you to have it.”

“Mando,” she gasps. “You’re sure?”

He simply nods.

She leans into his personal space until her warmth invades the confines of his undershirt that puts Tatooine’s twin suns to shame. Mando’s throat bobs when a hand tunnels through his cowl to splay across the side of his neck and her face looms near the side of his helmet. He doesn’t twist to look at her—doesn’t want to unnerve her with the leering tint—but his shoulders sag at the vague tremor through the beskar; her lips weakly compressed against the curvature on his helmet.

He’s not one for words, but it seems he succeeded on that front.

It makes his heart flatten and swell in succession as though she was kneading the organ with her hands, the contact so placid and gradual - just taking her time tenderising the muscle.

Not to mention the boost of blood that flows through his abdomen and finalises below his waist, causing a twitch in his pants and she hadn’t even touched him except for a delicate hand on his cowl. 

Mando really was like a boy—a pining, desperate, hormonal boy.

The Girl withdraws somewhat and trails the hand from his neck over the bump of his heart plate and seats it in the cushioning covering his stomach, her eyes bounce from his visor to his reviving arousal with her bottom lip clamped between rows of teeth. She softly snickers, “You don’t need to get shot at for me to touch you, Mando.”

He swallows, his helmet twisting on its axis to watch her expression—eyes darkening and tonguing crawling through her parted lips to apply a coating of saliva on them. 

“Is that what you want?” she croons. “For me to touch you?”

He’s speechless—choking on his own spit—and she doesn’t help matters when she glides the hand lower, her fingers catching on the hem of his waistband and her palm enveloping the curve of his bulge. 

Mando recollects all the instances he’d thought of the Girl like this—touching him so sweetly, pulling moans from his mouth—all the times he’s wanted more, needed more. Even with her hands down his pants he craved more, required her warmth—wanted to be buried in that warmth.

“Yes,” he musters up, his words coming out staticy through the modulator. 

It’s all she needs to continue, r hand snaking beneath the hem and she wraps slender fingers around his length, sluggishly pumping twice that has his back arching off the wall and she smiles smugly in her endeavours. 

His heart is in his throat, his stomach, his crotch—everywhere. 

The Girl tightens her grip some, her fingers catching on his skin without any form of lubricant but it reminds him of being back on the Crest in the pilot's chair and he has no criticism of that. She drags her hand to the top and gradually slides back down, her thumb following a pulsating vein back to the base. It has his muscles tensing, constricting underneath his layers, but his fingers dig into the cloak underneath him. 

He greedily whines, “Need more.”

She seems to understand his request and reaches for the hem with her other hand, scrambling to yank his trousers down and he assists by lifting his weight off the ground with his forearm until the hem rests at his mid-thigh; the beskar cuisse preventing the fabric from lowering any further but he couldn’t give a shit. It’s enough.

She hums at the sight of his cock—large, hard, and glistening with a bead of precum at the tip. Digits contract at the base, eliciting a groan from deep within his throat, and the Girl tosses a flirty smile at him as she gradually dips her head down for her lips to meet the tip. 

“Fu-ck,” he moans, his eyes widening as she flicks her tongue to collect the drop of white and it just melts into her tastebuds; brands them with his cum. She teases him, just barely making contact with a modest brush of her tongue against the head and he’s forced to restrain himself from bucking each time she spawns a coating of saliva that the hot air wipes dry in a matter of seconds.

Mando scrunches his fists against the duracrete and listens to the tinking his helmet produces each time he twitches his head against the sandstone, if it wasn’t made of beskar it'll surely be scraped to hell. He’s fortunate the bacta spray was so efficient—there’s no doubt in his mind he wouldn’t be able to enjoy this as much as he is without it working wonders on his wound. One of his hands occupies the back of her head and he unintentionally drives her downwards until her lips seal around the head of his cock and he’s gasping for air—the filters of his helmet breathing violently to supply the oxygen he’s lacking.

It’s exhilarating being inside of her mouth—albeit very little of him—and he lifts his hips to delve deeper, exploring the uncharted territory of her tongue and throat; so fucking soft, like her gums are fabricated out of clouds and her tongue a bed prepared just for him to rest on. “Gods,” he chokes. “Such a — pretty little mouth, mesh’la.”

She half-moans around his length, sending pulsations that makes his knees weak and toes curl. She bobs her head up and down rhythmically, her hand stroking what she can’t fit inside, and his gloved fingers twirl around a cluster of strands at the nape of her neck just to hold her - to feel the muscles stretch and loosen each movement she makes.

Mando is gluttonous for her—so fucking desperate to quicken the pace or attain new limits—and he experimentally sinks her head lower onto his shaft, slowly but with some level of authority that makes the Girl moan and comply with his proposal.

The curve of her nose brushes against the flock of unkempt bristles at the base—it’d been a while since he last tamed them, though he suspects the Girl doesn’t mind—and her sharp hot exhales through her nose can be felt dancing along the soft flesh of his groin, the head of his cock nudging against the back of her mouth before it slips past and eases down her throat an inch. Along with the newfound pressure around his length, the Girl flattens her tongue on his underside and sucks—generously hard, might he add. 

There’s an ache in his abdomen, a crack in his knee as it jerks, and he’s forced to gnaw on his lips to refrain from spewing out shameful noises from deep within his throat. His sonic detectors pick up the faintest of audio; the squelching of his cock slipping in and out of her throat, her short puffs of exhales, and her cut-off gagging noises she makes each time he explores a little more than she can withstand. It’s unrighteous how turned on he’s getting from the noises alone, but she makes her presence well known when her lips glue around at the base just sits there taking in his entire length in her throat; tears brew in the corners of her eyes and she swallows a heap of saliva—consuming all of his rationality as her throat tightens around his width.

“Oh, f-fuck, shit. St-sto-op.”

He reflexively yanks her head up until only the head of his cock is situated in her mouth, twitching, leaving the remainder of his length sodden with stringy pools of her saliva that streak to the brown curls.

Mando observes the mess she’s made, mouth drowning with lust. As much as he could sit there and fuck her mouth like this, he aches for more contact—requires it like the oxygen he breathes.

“I want more, pretty girl, need you.”

His hand travels from the base of her neck along the curve of her spine and rests on the soft of her rear, indicating his proposition. She reluctantly pries her lips from his tip and glances up at him with filthy eyes to murmur, “Need me?” she swallows. “Need me to take care of you?”

Fuck. “Yes.”

“Need me to ride you -- to fuck you?”

“Yes, mesh’la.” His fingers bite into the flesh of her ass and dip in the waistband at her tailbone, lazily tugging at the material but it fails to budge against the defence of her belt. 

“Fucking so needy,” she sings.

Mando is needy—dehydrated and starving for her—utterly insatiable. 

She unclasps her belt and unbuttons the two little dimes at her groin, but he beats her to the belt loops and slips either thumb on the farsides and tugs. His eyes soak in the exposed flesh; how cushiony her thighs look, how they must feel squeezing the sides of his head. There’s a rumble in his chest and it finds its exit through his filters, shooting straight to the Girl’s core.

The Girl guides a leg out from beneath her and he continues undressing her from the waist down until she’s only left in her undergarments, the length of her legs being explored by crunchy leather. She doesn’t allow him the opportunity to take initiative and remove his gloves—he wouldn’t be able to control where his hands led if he had—and tosses a leg on either side of his thighs, the underside of his cock rubbing against her clothed pelvis to evoke a muffled moan from his throat.

One of her hands rests on his side atop of the bacta patch and she gazes into his helmet, silently inquiring her concerns.

“I’m okay.” She continues eyeing him, her pupils flickering to the bottom side of the helmet his lesion laid in slumber. “Mesh’la, I’m good.” He proves it with a minor thrust of his hips that has her scooting against his lap, distributing her weight among his thighs.

She seems pleased with his condition, tearing her hands from his wound to bunch up the overhanging fabric. Mando stops her, clinging to the hem of the shirt. “No, keep - keep it on. Looks good on you.”

An imposing heat rises to her cheeks and paints them hues of reds and pinks at the implication Mando gets off on her wearing his clothing. He’s watching her, she feels the leer of his visor, and she bows her head and strokes his length in an attempt to hide away, to distract him from the mortifying blush gracing her cheeks and nose. Mando’s insistent, stubborn, refuses to look away from her ‘pretty little face’—his words, not hers—and just scouts as her features contort shyly.

He won’t look away.

Especially not when she lifts her thighs and hovers over his readying cock, the head nudging against her clothed sex; warm and damp from her secreting through the fabric. She wants this, he acknowledges, just as much as himself.

She dips her hips enough, just barely, so he’s firmly pressed against her; his twitches travelling through to her, sparking her fingers to dig into the pads of his shoulders in shock. Mando groans, powerless underneath her, and bucks his hips plenty to maintain a pleasant caress against the tip of his cock.

“You’re taunting, pretty girl.”

She smirks. “Why not do something about it?”

Oh, he will—he’ll make her applaud the ground he walks on if he has to.

With one foul swoop, Mando plunges his hand between her legs and eases the garment aside, positioning himself between her folds and collecting the slick with his head. It makes something erupt inside of him, in his abdomen, and he freezes like that; his cock scarcely pressing against her entrance - she flutters against him.

The throbbing at the back of his head pulls him out of his relishing but he’s not willing to interrupt—not when he’s waited so fucking long to feel her like this. “Sit down,” he breathes, lightly pushing on her thighs. “S-slowly.”

She abides by his commands and gradually sinks on his length—so fucking slowly. He asked for it, but she’s just torturing him at this point. His eyes tear from what lays between them back to her face, her eyes squeezed closed and her teeth latching onto the flesh of her poor hand. His muscles lack, his hands caressing her legs. “Sweet girl,” he coos, “you can do it.”

“Gods, what else are you hiding under all that beskar?” she moans and continues, stretching herself around his impressive size; Mando’s not small in the slightest.

His helmet inclines with a soft chuckle, clashing against the wall behind them—the wall he was ready to die on and now he’s fucking her against it - he hadn’t even cleaned himself of the blood soaked into his cowl and caking his hair - it’s fucking dirty.

He hums her name in reassurance. “Should’ve - should’ve prepared you with m-y fingers first.” 

“Yes,” she winces. “You should’ve.”

“Doing so well, so good. That’s it. Nice and slow-ly.”

There’s a silence that fills the air once he’s completely sheathed inside her, the both of them tardily comprehending the reality of the situation—they won’t be able to return to normal after this, won’t be able to look at each other without thinking of the other naked. This is their new normal, at least for today, and they carefully descend back to the scene with clarity. 

Her - his shirt’s hem rubs against his garbed stomach, loose and large on her, and he slithers his hands up the back of it to clamp down on her shoulders; holding her firmly against his pelvis so she’s restricted and refuses her the opportunity to move—he wants to savour the feeling of her stretched around him, the feeling of her warmth welcoming him. She hisses at the cold steel of his vambrace along the muscles of her back and arches on him.

Mando basks in her warmth, shifting his hips side-to-side to rub against the inside of her canals, and resting the peak of his helmet against her sternum above the pendant’s residence to breathe in her scent. It’s faint with the helm’s filters stripping the air of her but there’s a hint of sweetness that he jostles around among his tongue and a speck of her musk, alongside a whiff of his personal scents from his shirt—gun oil, leather, his own musk fusing together with hers.

“Mando, I got-ta move.”

The grip on her shoulders loosens, enabling her to move slightly but doesn’t allow her to take initiative this time; his ass flexes against the ground as he thrusts up into her, pulling soft gasps from her tongue. It’s so hot, so enticing, a sound he’s dreamt of hearing but actually triggering the noises from her is intoxicating. He could bury his face between her legs and listen to her all night if she’d allow it; if his Creed allowed it.

“Pretty girl.” His hips slam into hers. “Always - always taking care of me.”

“Fu--fuck, Mand-o,” she chokes, her breathing staggering each time his groin rolls into her pelvis. A delicate hand runs along the front to the back of his cowl and sweeps underneath the steely brim, never breaching his comfort zone until he imparts his consent with a faint nod. She inches her digits up till they disappear inside his helmet—there was a time he wouldn’t let anybody get within arm’s length of his helm and now the Girl was freely raiding the unexplored depths of his skull for the second time that day. 

There’s a slight pang around his lesion when she tugs on the curls and it only roams upwards when she shoves her palm up as far it’ll reach in the cramped space, her fingers working out the tight knot. He jerks at the sensations, all so foreign, so new and exciting he’s struggling to withhold himself from doing something stupid.

“Been thinking about this for so lo-ng,” he whispers, quickening his pace to drive up and nudge against her cervix that has her flinging her head back. “Thought about fucking——fucking you over the control panel ea-ch night.”

“Maker,” she purrs. “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move. Nearly crawled in your fuck-ing bunk with you.”

Mando groans. “Yeah? I’ll fuck you in my bunk whenever you want, mesh’la. Name the time.” 

“Fuckin’ hell, Mando.”

“Din,” he slips, freezes, muscles stretched and tight—he went and did something stupid. The Girl notices his wavering, his thrusts having abruptly stopped, and joins his absence of movement. A layer of nervous sweat breaks out across his forehead, his heart paced faster than a Kaadu. Everything is distanced, the Girl seemingly klicks away, thoughts clouded with analysing his psyche’s outburst; a foolish slip of the tongue in the heat of the moment. 

He hasn’t heard that name since he was a boy—hadn’t uttered it aloud since he became a foundling—so it’s a huge fucking shock when he hears the syllable trip past his lips.

And it’s an even bigger shock when the Girl repeats it back to him, “Din?” 

It does sound nice coming from her, though. He can’t deny that. Like his name is made of nectar, sweet and thick that dribbles from her tongue and down her chin—he could just lick it up from her, catch the remnants before it plummets the duracrete.

She grinds herself against him to pull him back to reality, twirling a curl around her finger curiously; cloyingly. 

“Din,” he repeats, firmer, with authority, “Say it, mesh’la, say it for me. Please.”

She tugs on his locks, forcing his helmet to tilt up to look at her and his heart misses a beat when she parts her lips and moans into his visor, “Din.”

Dank Farrik—she always knows just what to do to get his blood pumping. She doesn’t even know the significance of the word, just acknowledges how his cock quivers inside her from speaking it and then she’s a mewling mess muttering along a never-ending string of Din, Din, Din’s.

“Hold still,” he warns, a sturdy vambrace wrapping around her coccyx and propelling himself upwards and unto his knees with her below him, a gloved hand at the back of her head to protect it from slamming against the hard duracrete.

She’s even more sublime from this angle; spread out underneath him, the backs of her thighs pressed against his hip joints—purely on display for him and only him. 

Din can’t stand not being inside her, not feeling her slick walls hugging him so fucking tightly it drags pleasure through the core of his shaft, and he sheathes himself back into her quickly. Propping up his weight with a forearm beside her head, and pounding his hips into hers vigorously - the clap of their skin snapping through the air. 

She grinds her hips upwards into his lap to massage the swollen nub of her clit against him, jerking at the sensitivity - though she’s so restricted between solid flooring and a just as solid beskar figure that she more-or-less humps into Din’s body - her fingers slither behind the beskar margins of his cuisse’s to stabilise herself.

The abandoned cantina air is hot, sweltering, thick with sweat and sex—versus the dry, dusty stench prior that left his lungs ticklish. They’re fucking each other so desperately they’re emitting a skyrocketing heat, it’s dumbfounding.

Her lips are pulled invertedly to force back the whiny incoherent moans. Beads of sweat along her forehead. Eyes glued close. 

What a beautiful sight. All for him. It’s contrasting to the last time they were in a similar scenario—her hands on him, him sitting there licking every crumb off the plate of food she served him—but their positions had changed and now he’s the one working those noises out of her. A flurry of youthful pride rushes through him and he slips two fingers to touch where they connect, feeling the ridges and veins of his cock through the leather as he pulls out and slides back in - feeling what she’s feeling - memorising what she’ll memorise.

“I - I can’t…shit...Din,” she croons.

She’s close to her apex—her walls tighten around his cock even further. If she gets any tighter Din will come right here and now. He’s still not done - still needs more of her - thirsts for it.

“I know, mesh’la, I know. A - a little longer. Just a little longer.”

The digits between her thighs compile a coating of her slick seeping down the sides of her leg, applying it to her clit and drawing fast circles. She doesn’t complain about the scratchy leather on the sensitive bud, doesn’t gripe that he’s not allowing her the touch of his bare flesh—she thinks it’s fucking hot; he can’t take his hands off her for a fucking second to rid himself of the confines, can’t keep her waiting to inch his pants down past his thighs. He’s still completely clothed, permitting only his cock and thighs to spring free of his flight suit enough to fuck her into the ground—into the ground. It’s unadulterated filth through and through.

Din’s tattered and slashed cloak droops to the side of him and the Girl wads a horde of the scratchy fabric in her hand, tugging on it that brings him to meet with her hips like she’s coordinating his movements. “Oh, fu-ck. Right there, Mando, right there.”

“Din,” he growls a reminder all-while maintaining the pace and posture she’s arching into, her moaning of his name an addicting motivator, “my - my name is Din.”

If he wasn’t hitting something so unreachable—something so itchy she never knew existed—she might’ve wrapped her arm around his neck, pulled his helmet in for a kiss, and whisper sweet nothings in response to his confession. She can’t though - he doesn’t give her a second's worth of breaks. Unable to demonstrate her appreciation, she wrenches her head to the forearm beside her and administers a laden press of her lips to his leathered wrist; a small but incredibly sweet gesture that has his lungs tugging on his heartstrings.

She whispers his name as if testing it out on her tongue, this time with more sentiment. It’s a soft, short, and rounded-sounding name—everything he’s not—such a breathy syllable it doesn’t require much mouth manipulation and the Girl takes advantage of that; chorusing the word in sync with her pleasured writhing. 

Din extracts his cock from her gradually and sharply slams back into her, shoving her spine across the ground that she jumps from her position an inch, the grip on his cloak tightening.  “Fuck, Din!” Pearly whites sink into the leather surrounding his wrist and he grunts at the stimulation, his thrusts beginning to stagger as he reaches his climax. He won’t allow it - he’ll postpone his relief until she’s had hers if he has to; she deserves it.

“Come for me, pretty girl. You take care of me so-so well, let me feel you relax; come.”

She does relax, becomes nothing more than a boneless pool of flesh and blood beneath him that yelps at each smack of his hips, tingles at the squelching of his cock slipping through her lubricant and coating the base of his groin in a wet sheen of her. 

Din’s fingers continue on her nub only periodically stopping to delve deeper and amass her juices. He hits a sweet spot and she writhes into his chest, ripping her teeth from the leather to sink them in the thick padding of his shoulder where she freely moans into the fabric—deliberately putting on a show for Din that makes the head of his cock twitch.

Din increases his pace, maintaining a speed that compensates for his lack of back with the explosion—delivering a steady tempo fit for a week's worth of workouts.

She’s so close to his ear, if the beskar wasn’t there she’d be pressed right up against the cartilage, her risque whining intruding the tunnels of his eardrums. It’s too much to consider, too fucking much. 

She clamps down on his cock, tight and vice-like that he struggles to move inside of her. Her body rocks and jolts as she cums on his cock—he can feel the warmth dripping over the head and running along the sides like syrup sliding down his throat. “That’s it, pretty, do-ing so good.” She transmits a low drone from his words of praise, her bite deepening enough to leave a groove of her teeth in his muscle.

Din pinches her nub once, twice, savouring the impact of her chest against his with each jerk he pulls out of her. He aids her descent back to Tatooine, luring out the remainder of her orgasm with slow lazy circles until she politely relieves his hand from her clit—too sensitive and sore to continue.

The Girl shakes and trembles below him, feuding with the hot air that won’t stay in her lungs. She’s glazed in a gloss of sweat from her forehead all the way to her thighs; drained and overstimulated, but she extends a helping hand to the base of his cock and pumps the few inches not inside her. 

“Can’t - can’t stay there all day, Din,” she teases.

It’s on the verge of abusive how she engages him, every inch of her knowing exactly what to touch and how to touch it as if he’s just constructed of mere text on a holorecord. 

He disagrees; he could stay here for eternity.

Although, he takes her laboured breathing into consideration and rewards her with his sympathy; dragging out his own climax. Din experimentally rocks his pelvis, his cock pulling on the tightness of her channel—feeling all the grooves so distinctly, the gentle flow of warm cum trickling past his length—he’s managed his own undoing, his fingernails digging into the leather of his palm, cock rigid and violently palpitating. 

She observes his shoulders tightening, his breathing shake, his thighs flexing as he anxiously pulls out of her sex—buries it somewhere safe in her memory for later—it’s a glorious experiencing watching a Mandalorian—The Mandalorian share something so vulnerable with her; like the after-effects of a meanspirited storm, all tranquil sounds and apprehensive touches. She seizes a hand and presses the leader against her cheek, mildly gnawing on the thumb that impishly slips past her lips, her remaining picking up the pace on his cock drawing out his high.

It’s so cordial watching her tear at his thumb, pull on his length, stare into the visor knowingly; too personal, too spellbinding. He takes the bait. “Fuck, fu-ck,” he moans, staggering on his knees and firing out a sticky white that pains the insides of her thighs—trademarking her.

She’s unrelenting, milking every drop out of him until he’s lagging and softening in her palm. When she’s finally conducted his orgasm, she presses a quick peck to his thumb and retreats her skull to the duracrete, officially out of stamina for anything more than a breathy: Shit, Din. That was-fuck.

Her thighs are wet with their combined juices—a shiny translucent mixing with the softening white. He gathers it up on the tips of his fingertips and lifts it to the Girl’s mouth, wiping the sex on her tongue she’s poked out in compliance. “So good to me. So pretty,” he strums. “How’s it taste? Did we do good?”

She nods, humming and rolling her tongue around inside her mouth to blend the liquids with her saliva. 

“Sweet,” she exhales. “Salty.”

Din can only imagine the flavour they spawned together; a mouthwatering syrup that leaves a savoury aftertaste from the sweat laminating her thighs. He longs for a taste, salivating with need, but resolves. 

The Girl’s slick coating his softening cock sticks to the insides of his pants as he fixes the hem back to his hips—rubbing the remnants on his thighs and gluing the short hairs to his flesh. Din reaches behind him to detach his cloak and uses the edge to wipe away the accumulated mess he’d created between her thighs, mindful of keeping the bloody end far away from her, taking his sweet time to cherish how the flesh judders in the direction of his digits and the muscles tense when he delves closer to her sex.

She props herself up with her elbows and observes him still firmly planted between her legs, a pink blush encroaching her cheekbones at the sight of her nakedness compared to the Mandalorian. 

He notices her shyness and decides not to comment, simply places a hand on either of her knees and trails them up to her torso and across her arms where he interlocks his fingers with hers - bending down atop of her to tuck his helmet in the curve of her neck, shielding her from the prying eyes of the twin spheres peeking through the window.

She rests her cheek against the side of his helmet, murmuring soft praises. Fucked me so good, she whines, gonna leave me sore all night.

Din groans into the helm and settles his weight on her, too exhausted to move, but she welcomes his physique—invites the dense muscles to recuperate on her for as long as he requires—and she wraps an arm around the back of his helmet, cradling him into her sweat-slicked neck.

“So about that break…”

_____________

“ner” - my/mine “mesh’la” - beautiful “cin vhetin” - fresh start/clean slate “Resol’nare” - Six Actions, the tenets of Mando life “Ba’jur bal beskar’gam, ara’nov, aliit, Mando’a bal Mand’alor- An vencuyan mhi” - Education and armour, self-defense, our tribe, our language and our leader, All help us to survive” “dar’manda” - one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity

taglist: @ohhersheybars​, @greatcircle79​, @northernpunk​, @tanzthompson​, @djarrex​

[dalekofchaos]

Killing The New Republic and Luke’s New Jedi Order killed the Sequel Trilogy

Disney you’re a business, who’s all about money, but then you chose to destroy the New Jedi Order and New Republic, that is definitely killing your billions, even after refusing to put storytelling first and foremost, and then having the audacity to claim “we don’t have source material” never mind the countless series of video games, comics, novels, tv shows and films, merchandising etc. Not to mention all the fucking stuff you could’ve done with the NR in BATTLEFRONT! YOU COULD HAVE MADE WITH THE NEW REPUBLIC AND NEW JEDI ORDER!

But no. Instead you made Leia an incompetent general leading an even weaker  and an on the budget Rebel Alliance. Han’s character arc was dropped, Han and Leia’s iconic romance was broken up and they were both turned into absent parents and Luke’s Jedi Order failed and 30 years of peace was undone pointlessly. But instead you just wanted Rebels vs Empire 2.0, but only this time around it’s dumber. 

Do you know what we could’ve done with The New Republic? Leia as Chancellor. Han and Lando as her Ministers of Defense. Boba Fett, Din Djarin and Bo-Katan leading The Mandalorians together as allies to the New Republic. We could’ve had a House Of Cards/West Wing/Game Of Thrones styled writing for the overall politics of The New Republic. You could’ve made a goddamn fortune on New Republic troopers, armor, weapons, fighters and frigates. Hell, you could even have The New Republic wield their own Star Defenders as opposed to Star Destroyers.  I am well aware that canon demilitarized The New Republic and already made a post on why disarming the New Republic in new canon was stupid.

What should have happened is that the NR commanders the Imperial Fleet and starts protecting systems who join the NR, all while chasing down and fighting any of the Remnants (Moffs, Warlords, Crime Lords, etc) who have grabbed power in the resulting vacuum. We could have seen an evolution of ships from Old Republic to Empire to NR ones. They could have renamed Star Destroyers into Star Defenders. Hell, they could have had a Republic of independent systems, each with their own sizable military, so that power isn't centralized.

Here is what the Sequel Trilogy could’ve been with the New Republic in power.

This could have been an interesting question for the ST. What happens after you win a war? How do you not make the same mistakes or become the thing you fought. What happens in a power vacuum? The NR should have been the dominant emerging power, and the Remnant should have been a small, secretive, unknown order, striking strategically from the UR where they hid, and causing fear and panic to spread in the NR. But no, instead of telling an interesting story, we are force fed the recycled poorly written rehashed Rebels vs Empire and the Rebels are made to be weaker than The First Order. The First Order are a terrorist movement, they should not be reigning after Hosnian Prime’s destruction, ESPECIALLY AFTER LOSING STARKILLER BASE! Concentrating your government and defenses around only one system is really stupid(AND BAD FUCKING WRITING) The New Republic’s forces should have been spread far across the galaxy. So after Hosnian Prime, The New Republic  sees the bigger picture and mobilizes their fleet and unites their forces with The Resistance. Instead The New Republic is stupidly destroyed because Rian wanted the Rebels to be the Rebels again.(lol this movie is fucking dumb) God forbid we get The New Republic fighting the First Order and making the heroes looking strong in force instead of stupidly having all the Rebels fit inside the Falcon. For the love of fucking god I hate this fucking timeline.

As for The Imperial Remnant. Thrawn, and Rae Sloane would lead the fleets and  Darth Plagueis and the Knights Of Ren would would be in command of the dark side.

Do you have any idea how fucking frustrated it was to play The Battlefront games with The Resistance who are just discount Rebels? They look fucking pathetic.

JUST LOOK AT THE NEW REPUBLIC IN THE MANDALORIAN!!!!!!!! SO MUCH POTENTIAL!

Oh and just look at the NR Troopers from Legends and fan concepts

SO. MUCH. POTENTIAL!

As for the New Jedi Order.

Ya’ll were sitting on a GOLDMINE with the New Jedi Order. You murdered the goose which laid thegolden egg. Imagine proper video games, novels, animations, films in that era.  Think about all of the unique characters and designs we could’ve seen, all the unique toys they could have sold, plus they could’ve centered Galaxy’s Edge around becoming a Jedi, building your own lightsaber, and undergoing training at Luke’s academy. I know they have a lightsaber-building thing there currently, but it would’ve made a lot more sense if they could’ve tied it in to the new trilogy with the New Jedi Order. Plus, Mark Hamill was the only one of the major OT actors who was willing to continually reprise his role well into the future, and they reduced Luke’s role to a cameo in 2/3 sequel movies and ruined his character and killed him off in the other one. They could’ve kept Luke around for several more decades and thrown him in to as many TV series, video games, and movies as they wanted to, and people would’ve flocked to see or purchase whatever he’s in, because it’s freaking Luke Skywalker. Destroying the New Jedi Order offscreen and ruining and killing off Luke Skywalker were the two dumbest decisions made with the sequel trilogy. They could’ve made BILLIONS off of this stuff. The continued pre-trilogy and post-trilogy stories, the toys, the merchandising, the video games, the books and comics, everything. What makes matters worse is that as I said, Mark Hamill was the only one who wanted to continue with his role,( Also he is an accomplished voice actor so he would have done well in the animated stuff, which also gives him opportunities to do action scenes without being young) he honestly probably would’ve been willing to reprise Luke up until he was in his 80s or even into his 90s, hell, Billy Dee Williams was just over 80 when he reprised Lando in TROS, and Luke wouldn’t even need an action-heavy role as he got older, as the Grandmaster of the New Jedi Order, he’d be able to have a similar role to Yoda in the prequels and The Clone Wars, where he provides wisdom and guidance the majority of the time, but he every once in a while he steps into battle, while the new characters go on the vast majority of the adventures. They really shit the bed with these new movies, because using the New Jedi Order with Luke as Grandmaster would’ve made them BILLIONS. I truly don’t understand how such a money-hungry corporation could’ve missed out on this, because using the NJO would’ve been like printing money. It’s genuinely baffling.

We could’ve had it all

Source

Source

For story purposes. It could’ve been like this. 

Luke starts to rebuild the Jedi by training his sister Leia. Leia could not fully commit to the Jedi because she had to lead the Republic as Chancellor, but she is made an honorary member on his Jedi Council. Leia would agree to be trained as a Jedi Master. Leia has a Yellow Lightsaber she keeps hidden should the moment arises. Leia’s most powerful force ability is Battle Meditation. After training Leia, Luke eventually encountered The Emperor’s Hand Mara Jade. Their dynamic and romance would be the same as in Legends. Eventually after Ezra Bridger returns, Ahsoka Tano, Cal Kestis, and Ezra Bridger return and join Luke’s Jedi order. The Jedi council would be this. Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Mara Jade, Ahsoka Tano, Cal Kestis and Ezra Bridger. The new Jedi Order embrace both the Light and Dark Sides Of The Force instead of repeating the mistakes of the Jedi of old and so balance can be brought to the force. Balance would mean understanding both aspects of the force and you can indulge in your anger and more toxic emotions, but you can’t let them rule you and when you can come to peace with that, that’s when you have balance.

Also, Luke’s Jedi order would include multiple aliens species from Wookies, Twi'leks, Iridonians, Trandoshans, Mirialan and you get the picture. 

Finn would be a mix of Kyle Katarn and Finn Galfridian.

For those not familiar with either character. Kyle Katarn, a self taught force sensitive who was a former Imperial Stormtrooper that later became a Jedi Master, Battlemaster and a Jedi Council member. Finn Galfridian, a Jedi who is from Royal background and is part of the New Jedi Order who was being taught by Luke Skywalker Finn could still be a Stormtrooper that chose empathy and to walk away, this results in Finn becoming Force Sensitive and brought to be trained by Grogu. We would later find out that Finn is a lost prince of Royalty stolen by The Imperial Remnant. Perhaps, in this scenario. Finn could be the lost Prince of Naboo. Finn would of course continue fighting in the war, but with Artorias on the New Republic’s side, they will gave more funding and at least another ally. It would also provide Finn the ability to have a home for the Stormtroopers after Finn liberates the Stormtroopers from the Remnant. Finn could allow the Stormtroopers that still want to fight to serve in the Naboo military. The Naboo having weak defenses could greatly benefit from having trained soldiers serve them and if the Stormtroopers would prefer a peaceful life, Finn can offer them a civilian lifestyle away from the judgment the rest of the galaxy would give them for their past, even offering them reparations.

Also, Finn would find love with best damn pilot in The New Republic, Poe Dameron!

Luke and Mara would have a daughter. Kira Jade Skywalker(who of course would be Rey) she would grow up loved, with her family and with the Jedi. They would all truly be With her. 

Ben Solo, Breha Solo(Played by Billie Lourd) and Jaina Solo(played by Millie Bobby Brown) would be the Solo children. Ben, Breha, and Jaina would all grow up close and would thrive as Jedi while their parents would visit and shower them with the love they would naturally receive from Han and Leia as their parents and Han and Leia would stand strong together leading The New Republic

You could have Ben Solo being the most promising of Luke’s Jedi Knights. He can either stay as a Jedi or choose The Imperial Remnant and become Kylo Ren. The Jedi Order is split between the Jedi loyal to Luke and those loyal to Ben. I will say Ben’s fall would be similar to Jacen’s. Because he sensed something terrible coming. The Grysk. He feels that the Jedi and the NR would not be enough. So he gives in to Darth Plagueis and leads the Knights Of Ren. But when The Grysk attack, Ben shows us his true colors and returns to his family to fight The Grysk and unites both The New Republic and Remnant. 

If Ben doesn’t turn to the dark side, Ben would stay true to the Jedi and his family. Ben would lead the Jedi to face the Knights Of Ren and destroy Plagueis.

Together Kira, Ben, Breha, Jaina and Finn would rise together and destroy Darth Plagueis and end the Sith once and for all.

But that’s not the end, because The Grysk would invade the galaxy.

Towards the end of the Trilogy, The NR and FO will join forces to fend off The Grysk invasion. Sloane will call for a cease fire and signing a treaty with Leia, where The NR and FO align their forces and build The Galactic Federation. Building a better galaxy together. Leia's vision for a Republic and Sloane's virtues for the Empire.

We get the legacy characters getting treated with respect, we get the new generation built upon and being prepared for the coming war and are all treated as important heroes, we have a FO treated like strong villains and a stronger threat to unite both forces and we have peace in the end. This is how I think the ST should have been handled.

The theme should’ve been family. It’s about how the Skywalkers and Solos lead and protect the galaxy. How well Han, Luke and Leia became after the fall of the Empire and the upbringing of their children. It should end with all is well with the Skywalker and Solo families. Not end in misery.

As Carrie Fisher said

“It’s about family. And that’s what makes it so powerful.”

We could’ve had it all.

[gffa]

STAR WARS AND BAD FAITH INTERPRETATIONS: This is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, as a way of me looking at in-universe events and characters through different lenses and as interesting exercises for myself, and came to a head for me when I was reading Empire’s End by Chuck Wendig. Throughout the books, there are smaller scenes of various characters who are used as illustrations as to how the galaxy is faring in the wake of the Empire’s fall, including a young orphan boy on Naboo:

While reading this section it reminded me how easy it would be to interpret this in bad faith--look at how the Naboo are failing this child!  Oh, he’s too difficult for them, so they just shove him aside because they can’t be bothered!  Look at how the Naboo are ostracizing someone who only ever tried to help the galaxy and was manipulated and taken advantage of by a Sith Lord, but instead of having empathy for him, they shun him and make him miserable! The people of Naboo are judgmental fucks who deserved what they got! Now, obviously, I don’t actually believe this and I think it runs pretty counter-intuitive to the narration of the scenes, which is about showing how damaged the galaxy is after the Empire and that it takes a lot of time and effort to heal from it.  But I could still make a bad faith argument about how the Naboo are really shitty and arrogant and only want to people people who fit into their pre-judged mold. I could make another bad faith interpretation argument about Padme Amidala as a character--they let a FOURTEEN YEAR OLD RUN THEIR PLANET!?  What the fuck, they trained her for combat, they put this impossible responsibility on her shoulders, including being responsible for going to war (which she did, with the Gungans), she’s practically a child soldier!  There’s no way she can handle that pressure, emotionally or mentally, but Naboo doesn’t give a shit about the mental health of their children! I mean, look at Padme in Revenge of the Sith, where she’s increasingly isolated because she doesn’t actually talk to anyone, none of the handmaidens stuck by her when it got difficult, none of her family is there for her, nobody from Naboo gives a shit about her, because they taught her that she can’t fall apart, that she’s not allowed to be fragile, she has to suffer in silence!  That’s why she’s all alone, because Naboo is fucked up and taught her all that. Again, obviously I don’t believe any of that, but I could make the case for it, when watching those scenes.  I could tie it together with Mapo and Jar Jar from Empire’s End and make a case for Naboo being the fucking worst who should be dragged loudly and publicly. Then there’s The Mandalorian.  Who has a set of religious beliefs and rigid dogma that he refuses to bend on and that everything that happened to him was his own fault, because he’d dragging the child into all these dangerous situations, he is literally endangering A BABY.  He’s so stupid that he doesn’t even try to take the tracker off the baby??  What the fuck, he doesn’t actually care about the welfare of that child he just kidnapped and refuses to give back, he only cares about what his wants. Because that baby has a family out there, but fuck that religious zealot Din Djarin because he stole the baby from them and refuses to give him back to the parents who LOVE HIM AND WANT HIM BACK. I mean, he won’t even take off his helmet in front of the baby WHO NEEDS TO SEE HIS ACTUAL FACE TO BOND WITH HIM BECAUSE BABIES NEED TO SEE ACTUAL FACES.  But his religious zealotry is more important than the baby’s wellbeing that he stole. For fuck’s sake, he can’t even find a caregiver or the baby, just LITERALLY LOCKS HIM IN A TINY STORAGE LOCKER AND LEAVES HIM ALONE FOR HOURS.  He’s literally locking the baby in a cage.  He barely ever holds the baby, he doesn’t get the baby any real toys, he doesn’t give him any skin to skin contact, all the baby has are LITERAL CHOKING HAZARDS TO PLAY WITH, he makes the baby walk for HOURS instead of picking him up to carry him, just lets him get nearly fucking eaten by a tooka, isn’t even FEEDING THE BABY, who has to forage for himself and Din just STANDS THERE while the baby chokes down that frog and is like, “Whatever.” He’s teaching the baby to be violent and angry, that’s why the baby chokes Cara Dune, because that’s exactly what this fucking dogmatic religious militant is teaching him. Again, I don’t actually believe any of that and it ignores a lot of what Din actually does/says and what the baby actually is capable of handling.  But I could make a bad faith case for all of it.  (And this is not a finger pointing exercise on my behalf, because genuinely everyone is allowed their own views and reactions towards Star Wars--so long as they’re not being a dick about those views.) So, you know, the point I’m rolling my way around towards--this happens a lot with the Jedi.  Context and narrative intention is often stripped away or made up to paint them as zealots and kidnappers who don’t give a shit about their own people or others.  That they’re choosing to be in this war, instead of how they were literally drafted into it, how the war chased them down and how they couldn’t just let people die when they could do something to try to help.  How the Jedi have repeatedly said that emotions are valuable, they’re normal, but you need to get a grip on them, because canon has also repeatedly demonstrated that people get really hurt when half-trained psychic space wizards don’t have their shit together.  Or how the Jedi kidnap children from their families, when we’re repeatedly shown that the galaxy is dangerous for Force-sensitive children and also, when people say no, the Jedi listen.  I mean, they have a secret list of Force-sensitive children, if they were kidnapping them, just go get them, no need to have a hidden list.  Also, the Bardottans said no and the Jedi stopped going there. If I’m willing to extend good faith to the people of Naboo and to Din, especially for complicated circumstances and that religious beliefs should be allowed to people and that adoption is a MAJOR theme in Star Wars, then I should be willing to extend that good faith towards the Jedi, too.  So, ultimately: The people of Naboo’s circumstances and actions are worthy of understanding and sympathy and good faith. Din’s circumstances and religious beliefs are worthy of understanding and sympathy and good faith. And, the Jedi’s circumstances and religious beliefs and actions are worthy of understanding and sympathy and good faith, too. All of them are worthy of the benefit of the doubt, a look at what they actually say and do in the canon, the context that goes with it, and understanding for how they’re doing their best in a galaxy that’s often putting people into impossible choices.

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Request: Jango Fett x Jedi!Reader

Request by @sweeetteaa​: So have had this idea for a while now, but I suck at writing so hear me out: Jango Fett x reader, but the reader is a Jedi who goes to investigate Kamino with Obi-Wan and when she meets Jango - it’s love at first sight. And of course sassy Boba also loves her.

Jango Fett x reader

Word Count: 1825

Note: Obi-wan is on Kamino a LOT longer than he is in the movie because reasons

There were times when you thoroughly enjoyed your long-standing friendship with Obi-wan Kenobi. For example, any time he’d come to you ranting about whatever ridiculous situation Anakin had gotten them into; you almost always got a hearty laugh out of those instances.

This, however, was not one of those times.

Right now, you were rueing the day you’d decided to spar with this particular human because he’d dragged you along on his hunt for an apparently not-so-imaginary planet where you were currently getting an astoundingly confusing tour to show off an army of (admittedly quite attractive) clones made for the Republic.

You leveled your friend with a glare behind the tour guide's back and mouthed a harsh, “What the fuck?”

He just shrugged helplessly. His face smoothed back over into calm interest the instant the Kaminoan turned to glance at him. It never ceased to amaze you when he displayed that renowned ‘Negotiator’ facade.

Always one to be hands-on rather than to be lectured at, you spoke up, “You said they were highly trained for battle, yes?”

“Of course,” she replied breezily.

“Would it be possible for me to sit in on one of their drills? I’m somewhat of a tactician myself; I’d like to see how they perform in action. You and Obi-wan can keep viewing the process in the meantime.”

“Brilliant idea!” Obi-wan agreed, obviously seeing your plan of gathering more information.

The Kaminoan nodded. “Your timing is most convenient,” she informed you. “There is a simulation scheduled a few minutes from now. We have an overhead observation bay from which you can watch alongside their instructor.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

~

By the time you arrived, the simulation was already underway, and the clone that appeared to be the instructor judging from the under-armor blacks he was wearing barely spared you a glance while you were introduced. Not that you could blame his disinterest, his brothers down below were putting on quite the show. Still, you would like to glean at least a little information from the clones themselves about this place, and there needed to be a conversation happening for that so . . .

“Your sniper there needs to learn that his priority shouldn’t be the heavy troopers first.”

A handful of scars on the instructor’s face were exposed to you when he turned to smirk in your direction were surprising; you’d assumed such injuries would have been healed flawlessly in this facility. Apparently, that wasn’t the case. There was a curious rush of Force that rushed through you when he raised an amused eyebrow at you. “Oh? Who should he be focusing on then?”

“If he wants the rest of his team to survive, he’d target the stealth team making their way around the edges of the room.”

His brown eyes widened fractionally in mild surprise. “A Jetii that cares about the safety of soldiers? An unusual find. Who are you again?”

“Y/N. Another Jedi and I are here to check on the status of the army.” You made sure to make your voice wobble in a false tell.

One he seemed to buy based off the way that his smirk grew into a lopsided grin that made your heart inexplicably race. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You weren’t, but it played to your advantage to make him think you couldn’t lie for shit. Your Master, Mace Windu, had always encouraged your underhanded methods of gaining information even when the other Jedi frowned on them. ‘Use every advantage,’ he’d always say. The strange emotions that were racing around your mind because of this strange man, though, did concern you, but you shoved that to the side for later examination. You allowed a defeated-sounding sigh escape your lips as you let your body sag. “So I’ve been told.”

“So let me guess: something tipped you off about Kamino and you came looking?”

Well, he was certainly more intuitive than you would have guessed given that he was right and all. Not just a pretty face. “Busted.”

“So a tactician, piss-poor liar, and a curious adventurer. You are quite strange for a Jetii.”

“And you seem to think you know a lot about Jedi for someone who’s never left this planet.”

The second the words left your mouth, his dark eyes lit up, and you knew you’d made a mistake in your read of the man. It very abruptly all fell into place. He didn’t have those scars because of any fault in the healing here in the facility; he’d earned them in the field away from proper medical care. His knowledge wasn’t learned from some other instructor; it was learned first-hand. And his prejudice wasn’t taught institutionally; it was born from some darkness in his past.

“You’re not a clone, are you?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m the original.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his quiet chuckle, and you’d be damned if you didn’t crack a small smile yourself in response. Vow of attachments aside, you couldn’t help but already be fond of this strange man you’d just met. “So what’s your name then, Mr. Original?”

“Jango Fett.”

That name rang a bell or six. “The Mandalorian bounty hunter?” The one with the famous loathing of Jedi because they slaughtered his people?

“My reputation precedes me?”

“As well as your hatred for my kind, making you a curious choice for the progenitor of an army meant to work beside us to protect the Republic.”

“Money is money, sweetheart, and I’m learning that there might be a few Jetii that aren’t all bad.”

“A few?”

“Well . . . one or two . . . that I’d like to get to know better over a friendly dinner?”

“I suppose that could be arranged. We need to talk about how you’re training you snipers to be blind, anyway.”

~

As it turned out, dinner was in Jango’s apartment along with his clone/son Boba who you found out rather quickly you adored. The initial greeting had been rough, but he quickly warmed to you when you showed him the blaster you kept hidden within your robes for emergencies. He’d been telling some tale for the last few minutes about some trip he and his father had gone on, and his excitement was practically tangible.

“So anyways, Dad is busy trying to tie the guy up, and I spotted a no-good Jetii--”

“Boba!” his father interjected.

“What? It’s not like she’s a normal Jetii. She carries a blaster and agreed to go on a date with you.”

Your eyes widened dramatically, “This isn’t--”

“Son, this isn’t--” Jango cut himself off as the two of you talked over each other in your haste to deny the attraction you’d both been feeling all night.

“I’m a kid, Dad. I’m not stupid.”

“Boba--” This time you were cut off by a knock at the door.

The boy was already on his feet as he shouted, “I’ll get it!”

In the quiet that followed, Jango admitted, “He wasn’t wrong to assume that, you know.”

“I know,” you replied honestly, “but I took the vows, and we just met . . .”

“Dad! It’s for you!”

“Coming!” His eyes never left yours as he stood. “If you ever decide to leave that order of hypocrites . . .” The offer was clear.

“I know who to call,” you promised.

In the span of a single breath, you went from gazing at him longingly to being stunned still at the feeling of his lips on yours to staring at his retreating back in still-frozen surprise. And then everything devolved into a whirl of passive-aggressive accusatory comments, Obi-wan’s pitying gaze, and a chase that left you pondering, well, everything as you and your best friend chased the man that so easily swayed your mind away from your rigid vow of no attachments. 

“Obi-wan?” you called quietly over the comms that connected your two fighters. The two of you were tracking Jango’s ship, and you had a blackhole of anxiety gnawing its way through your stomach.

“I’m guessing this is something about that date I interrupted?”

“It wasn’t a date,” you argued automatically, but even you could hear how convincing you weren’t, “but yes.”

“It’s really getting to you that he is our assassin, isn’t it?” Your silence spoke libraries about your answer. “I’m sorry, darling.” Surprisingly, he didn’t kick into a lecture about the Code like he would have with Anakin, which you greatly appreciated. 

“Do you remember the old myths about the Force?”

“I suppose you have a specific one in mind?”

“The one about how everyone has someone out there connected to them by the Force.”

There was a heavy pause. “Do you believe this Jango Fett is your soulmate, Y/N?” Ever straight to the point was the renowned Obi-wan Kenobi.

You bit your lip, trying to fight back the tears that were currently making your eyes sting. That myth was the only way you could explain the feelings you had when looking at Jango, the way the Force seemed to dance between the two of you when he kissed you. “Yes.”

This time it was Obi-wan’s silence that was telling. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

~

After everyone was onboard a ship that was flying away from Geonosis, you locked yourself in your room with only Obi-wan allowed to enter so you could mourn in peace. All at once the galaxy was at war, your soulmate (for that’s what he must have been for you to have been brought to your knees by his death the second his head was severed even though you were too far to have seen it with your own eyes) was dead, and you were surrounded by his clones like they were living ghosts. You were a wreck, to put it mildly, and you could not let Anakin see you like this and get it into his head that such attachments were acceptable even if this was a special circumstance.

Already, you’d been weeping for hours while collapsed in the middle of the floor. And that was precisely the position Obi-wan found you when he finally returned from giving his report to the Council. In an instant, you were swept into a tight hug.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You shook your head minutely. “I can’t do this, Obi,” your voice shook. “I can’t fight with his ghosts by my side only to watch them die under my command in a war that no one wants.”

“You have my support no matter what you choose,” he promised quietly, “as long as you keep in touch.”

A shaky breath left your lips as some of the tension left your body. You hadn’t realized it, but part of you had been terrified that you would lose your best friend in this chaos. “Thank you.”

“What will you do?”

“Boba was there.”

“The little clone?”

“His son . . . sort of. He’s just a child that lost his father. I can’t just leave him.”

“I’d expect nothing less from you.”

[captains-writing-desk]

Chapter Three: The Faceless

Universe: The Mandalorian

Character: Din Djarin

Type: Reader insert (female reader)

Words: 2,251

Warnings: Swearing

Note: Woo Chapter three! Frog lady is on board and you’re both questioning your ways of life. Some fluffiness and an attempt at answering questions maybe...

 

-

 

Generally, the thought of having another passenger on board would be a nightmare but she took away from the slight awkwardness that came from the burning curiosity that radiated off of the Mandalorian. He had questions, you knew it but then what did you expect after pulling a stunt like you had back on Tatooine. Maybe you just let your anger get the best of you and you should let curious minds ask curious questions. You always wanted to know more and explore more but you just weren’t the asking type, thus making you not the answering type either.

You sat on the floor below deck consumed by your thoughts and unsuccessfully trying to distract yourself with tending to your batons. Maybe sharing secrets wasn’t the worst idea but you would have to confront those secrets yourself first before giving them so freely. Especially considering you barely knew this Mandalorian, hell you never really even spoke to him on a personal level but this long haul trek through space without jumping gave you time to start questioning all about the situation you were in. It was the first time you actually felt content in the company you were in and even with him annoying the hell out of you on Tatooine and previously just having travelled around with him and kept tabs on the kid- occasionally him too. Fuck me, you needed to get a grip on the way you were feeling, not just flicker between various stages of anger and just existing. You hushed your thoughts when the Mandalorian came down into the bay.

“Where’s the kid?” He asked upon finding the little sleeping cubby empty. You looked around and saw him with his hand in the vat of eggs.

“Hey!” He beat you to it and went over to stop him as he ate one of the eggs to which he got a telling off. Were you really so out of it that you didn’t notice?

“Get some sleep.” It was like he read your mind as he crawled into the space with the kid to take a nap, so you let yourself drift off into a nap of your own finally.

-

“Hey! Hold on down there!” Your nap was interrupted and you stood up immediately to see what was going on only to be thrown off your feet. Had you not had enough of being airborne? You made several attempts to get to your feet but you had no idea what turns he was making with the ship and you were still absolutely shattered despite the nap you’d had. So, you had no choice but to just let yourself slide around on the floor and try and cushion the blow of being thrown into the panels. You heard the engines go and the ship dove straight down, sending you hurtling into one panel before being thrown to the landing doors. Thankfully before you acquired too many new bruises you were eventually thrown into the ladder up to the cockpit where you were able to brace yourself and clamber up.

“What the hell is going on?” You braced yourself when you got to the cockpit and looked at the scanners. “X-wings?” The hell did they want and why were we coming into an ice planet.

“I may or may not be wanted,” He read the question on your mind, “Hold on.” He repeated but there wasn’t really much to brace yourself on. All it took was one sharp knock and you were crash landing to the ground. You kept yourself steady somehow, until touch down where you were able to climb to your feet once more. It was honestly tragic how much time you’d spent in mid air or flat on your ass lately. That was until the ice broke beneath the ship and once again you found yourself falling, well you got thrown back down the ladder and plunged into darkness.

You woke up with the Mandalorian hopping off of the bottom rung of the ladder and  touching his hand to your shoulder. Your ears were ringing but you could make out that he was saying your name and moving his hand to the bottom of your visor which took you off guard and sobered you up very quickly.

“ ‘m fine.” You rasped and grabbed his wrist making him jump then quickly relax his hand before you let it fall from your grip, his hand remained extended to you though. You stared for a moment before reluctantly taking hold and letting him pull you to your feet.

“Thanks,” You twisted your torso to stretch your body out and took note of the huge hole in the side of the ship and the sparking wiring, “Shit, this is bad news.” Your breath clouded in the air as you really took note of the ice and snow that had drifted in to the hold.

“I know...” He sighed.

-

It was freezing. You really wanted rid of the heat on Tatooine but this was an extreme shift in temperature. You could barely get some shut eye despite how heavy your eyes really were. You felt bad for the amphibian as neither of you spoke her language but she was clearly exasperated trying to communicate something but she was told it could wait until morning. You heard her tinkering around and watched her fiddle with an old droid that lay against the wall in a few pieces. You glanced at her eggs which she had covered with her own blanket and you sighed. She needed to keep them warm, you could tell that much. You reached out and pulled the vat towards you which you placed on your lap, underneath the loose cloth that draped around your shoulders. She watched you for a moment and nodded, which you could only assume was meant as gratitude but you had little time to figure it out as sleep suddenly washed over you.

-

Once again you were rudely awoken along with the Mandalorian. The amphibian had gotten the droid partly working so it could translate what she needed to say, that she couldn’t wait much longer or her eggs would perish. You were slightly stunned when she took a dig at the Mandalorian’s honour but to your surprise it worked and he grabbed his toolkit and left, muttering on his way out. Maybe his creed and integrity were being questioned even by himself. You chuckled and set the eggs aside then hauled yourself up to go give him a hand.

 

The silence for once seemed deafening. He had questions and you, well you had some questions but you almost just wanted to give him answers for once in your life, but it was something you would certainly struggle with.

“What will you do when you find another Mandalorian?” You decided was the best way to break the silence. He took a moment before he answered, processing the shift in the way you were interacting with him.

“I would ask them for help. They would know where to find the kid’s kind.” He continued his work as he spoke, as did you.

“Do you know what his kind is?” You asked out of genuine curiosity.

“Not really. I’ve heard mentions of Jedi.” He said plainly and you paused for a moment, pondering on whether to take your chances.

“Do you know much of the Jedi?” You asked a little timidly.

“No. I know he can move things with his mind and he can heal wounds. That’s as much as I’ve seen.” He admitted. So he knew very little then. He had no idea of the full extent. Your silence did not go unnoticed by him. “Do you?” He asked quietly.

“A little.” You admitted.

“What are they?” He pressed.

“They are wielders of the force. It’s like a religion. Very few remain.” You sounded stupid but you really didn’t know how to begin explaining.

“I see.. What else can they do?” He turned his head slightly to you, pausing in his work.

“A great many things if they put their mind to it. It requires a lot of practice and will of the mind.” You couldn’t help yourself being so vague and in the pointed silence that followed, you also stopped and turned your head to him.

“How did you-“ He was cut off by the kid appearing and making some noises while pointing. He told him to make himself useful and come help but he wandered off instead so the Mandalorian followed and left you to carry on repairs.

He hadn’t been gone too long but you felt uneasy all of a sudden so you came around to the hole in the ship and noticed the footprints that lead off into a cave system. You heard faint noises and approached the cave carefully, then you heard his blaster followed by explosions and they were getting closer. You backed your way to the ship with your blaster drawn on the cave entrance and watched as they appeared with a hoard of arachnid type creatures on their tail. You opened fire on the creatures and held the cloth that covered the hole in the ship open for the amphibian to climb through and take the child and her eggs from the Mandalorian. He ushered you in before him and you covered him while he clambered in too.

Up in the cockpit, you all struggled to get the door shut and he told you to start the engines. You did as you were told as he torched the creatures that held the door open. You didn’t get far off the ground before a giant arachnid leapt on to the ship and dragged what you hoped was it’s mouth over the glass. You racked your brain for some sort of escape plan but you came up empty, Only somebody else seemed to have come to the rescue. The Mandalorian went to see and you waited in the hold out of sight, in case it wasn’t a very friendly rescue.

 

-

 

Once again you found yourself working to repair the cockpit, enough to hold until you made it to Trask. The kid watched with his face pressed against the window as you both worked on the outer layers of the cockpit. You watched him back for a moment, thinking about how much more confident he seemed or that maybe he was growing. He seemed to be babbling an awful lot recently, though it still made very little sense to either of you, you could at least somewhat tell how he was feeling. You held your palm up and he watched as you slowly brought it closer to the glass with his own hand pressed against it.

“Bah!” You suddenly smacked the glass in front of him and he wailed before falling backwards. “Shit.” You muttered, trying to withhold the chuckle in your throat but the Mandalorian chuckled first which made you smile. The kid reappeared at the glass looking a little unsure and you felt for him a little then.

“You think it’s hard for him, having two faceless idiots to look after him?” The Mandalorian asked out of nowhere and it hit you in ways you hadn’t expected. It was the first brush with the topic of neither of you having your faces shown. Not the first ever, but the first time between the two of you where for however many months it had been, there was a mutual respect for the choices you each made on that front. Secondly, they were a clan of two but now it was the two faceless idiots that were in charge of the kid. Was this his way of saying you were no longer just a passenger there to help, or was he asking?

“Maybe. Did you ever find it difficult?” You tilted your head in his direction.

“Sometimes.” He paused for thought, “I got used to it but I wouldn’t like to say that Mandalorians are well known for the way they handle emotions. It’s not like we could see faces either.” He spoke quietly. He would never admit to it but between considering letting Omera remove his helmet and letting IG-11 remove it, he found himself straying further from the path of his creed. Not that he would ever desert it, he owed them so much but he had other priorities now with the kid. He was just conflicted.

“He knows he is protected and safe. He can see it but more than anything he can sense it.” You gently interrupted whatever thoughts he had and you both looked at the child once more whose face and hands were pressed against the window. You reached out again and he flinched for a moment but you remained steady and placed your hand on the glass lightly. He looked at your hand then put his tiny little hand up against yours then looked to the Mandalorian.

“See?” You said and looked at him too. You heard a barely audible hum from his modulator and watched him place his palm against the window too. You could feel the warmth of whatever this energy was that passed between the three of you. You felt it in your heart at first as a tingle and as you drew breath and exhaled it pulsed down through your arms, sending goosebumps with it.

“He will be fine.” You smiled, hoping he would hear it in your voice then went back to your work.

[intermundia]

So LT is very painful, could I ask for some insight into what happens in the Baby Vader AU when Obi-wan and Ahsoka get captured and it's up to Anakin, and maybe the clones are there too, to rescue them? Bc I'm picturing absolute carnage while Anakin "Murder Puppy" Skywalker doesn't get why everyone's giving him all these concerned looks. Mace leaves halfway through the report to get a drink.

I’m stuck trying to even imagine a scenario where Baby Vader would let Obi-Wan and Ahsoka out of his sight for long enough for both them to be captured without him 😂 Our boy is just a little too possessive and insecure for that!

Since he’s recently decided that these are his people now, his, it seems radically unlikely that he’d let them be taken—unless Obi-Wan specifically ordered him in advance to both be and stay elsewhere during the operation, and did it with a compelling enough tone of voice to make him actually obey.

But let’s say that Obi-Wan did do exactly that, and Anakin is now driving Cody insane and hasn’t left the bridge since they were taken. It’s bad enough that he doesn’t really technically have a rank, as the Jedi Council refuses to clarify if he’s a Padawan or not... so the clones begin by just awkwardly calling him “Sir”

I’m sure it wouldn’t take long for all of them to pack bond, though, now that I think of it. Probably by the time the 212th shows up to Dooku’s lair or wherever the trap was that Obi-Wan happily walked straight into this time, Anakin is fully one of them.

They’ve adopted him. He’s just too feral and lonely and violent and it Activates™ the default Mandalorian inherited foundling response that this is our Child now. It doesn’t even matter that they’re technically younger than he is. Emotionally? They’re miles ahead, and they’ve somehow collectively decided that Murder Puppy is their problem now too

And so then yes—the absolute carnage of that particular rescue mission becomes legendary along all the clones, with word of mouth retellings of the story over and over as everyone loves hearing about how this savage idiot basically ripped apart a droid factory with his bare hands to get his Master back. Anakin has always been very good at blowing things up, and the clones are here for it

Obi-Wan is probably both embarrassed/flustered in public about all the fuss and secretly thrilled by it. Like I imagine him being so secretly happy that someone chose him and was willing to fight for him. They have a... sweet... sparring session... later... as a reward 😉

And then of course Ahsoka’s just glad to be out of the stupid cell, and wants Anakin to teach her some... Extra Force Techniques on the DL when Master Obi-Wan’s distracted fending off the Council lol

The Council continues to seek clarification about just what the fuck Obi-Wan is doing adopting stray Sith Lords, and Obi-Wan just continues to artfully dodge their questions and evade explaining himself. They’ve mostly given up at this point, but some remain... cautious

Mace is definitely breaking out the Corellian whiskey, though. The briefing was a nightmare. Obi-Wan probably sends him over a really nice bottle with a polite note that makes Mace want to practice Vaapad live and in person 😂

[fanfoolishness]

Liveblog time!

Live-blogging for The Mandalorian 2x05, The Jedi, beginning now!

Almost forgot! This was my first piece of Mandalorian fanart, I think!

Calodan on Corvus is possibly my favorite planet after Sorgan. I love the misty color palette so much.

Also heeeey I’ve now seen nearly 3 seasons of The Clone Wars so Ahsoka will not be nearly so much a stranger this time around!

Calodan gives me such an Avatar-city under siege from the Fire Nation vibe, except Ahsoka’s the whole-ass Fire Nation and she’s here to save the day.

Why does the Magistrate have the beskar spear, anyway? And I wonder if it has any electronics in it the way everything else beskar we’ve seen has. I would guess not, but it would be kind of cool if it did, maybe something that actively keeps the spear well-balanced.

Look, evil lady, killing people doesn’t put the blame on Ahsoka. It just ain’t how it works. But bad guys always think that’s somehow an argument?

I wonder if the men of Star Wars are sad. Their hair is never very exciting but the women go all out.

So Din’s slightly testy with Grogu about getting back in his seat. Because... he’s fully expecting to go down to that planet and come back up again without the kid. I’d be testy too. ;_;

Oh God Grogu is even cuter than I remembered somehow. Like weeks and weeks of nothing but Mandalorian and every time I watch him he’s still just marvelous.

Love that shot of him focusing on the control knob with the pretty lights behind it. It really makes it seem magical, which to Grogu’s mind, it is

Love these weird giant creatures in the back, apparently just massacring these trees. CRONCH

I wonder how far they walked into town. I just love finding every little scrap of time between cuts that you could stuff a fic into.

I bet Grogu loves the smells of the marketplace, but can pick up on the tense atmosphere and doesn’t like it. He likes the kids, though.

I really enjoy the lighting of this episode because 1) we get to see those little lights on Din’s gauntlet easily and 2) it drives home the fact that not every world is going to have the same spectrum of light as our yellow sun. Reminds me of when I got to see the total solar eclipse in 2017. The sky seemed like daylight, but wasn’t. It was utterly unlike our world and I still get chills EVERY. TIME. I think about it.

I like her stupid guard droid. Cool color scheme.

God I wish I had a little water garden all my own.

Love the sound beskar on beskar makes.

Grogu: “Dad, this guy sucks. I can tell.”

UGH love those misty hills!!!!! So fucking pretty!

I love these trees so much. They remind me of buckberry.

Ahsoka: BABY???

Ugh the misty background is so gorgeous at night too!

Poor Din. He is so worried. Look at all this pacing when this is normally such a man of stillness and restraint.

Din: *pacing around anxiously* *kicks a cool rock* “I wonder if the kid would like this rock? MAYBE I SHOULD GO INTERRUPT THEM AND ASK oh never mind.” *back to pacing*

That smile that Ahsoka gives Grogu after she looks at Din — it’s so clear how many nice things he’s telling her about Din <3

Din is so worried. What’s she going to say? Is he doing this right? He doesn’t want to mess things up for the kid —

Can you just imagine everything in Din’s head right now? Relief at knowing the kid HAS a name, that Ahsoka can talk to him? Guilt at not somehow knowing the name before this? His heart going out to the kid, thinking of his home being taken away from him, thinking of him being in danger many times before Din could meet him or help him? Thinking this is time to say goodbye...

Awww thinking of Grogu curled up in Din’s cloak on the mossy ground while they sleep

Din is so worried Grogu won’t pass his test ;_;

Din is worried *he* won’t pass the test XD

So cute how Din kneels down to his level to encourage him to take the ball :)

Din is SO EXCITED

I love how when *Grogu* calls the ball to his hand, the musical cue plays *Din’s* motif with the recorder — a sign of their connection <3 <3 <3

Mando music is playing in the background. Grogu is NOT going to grow up to be a Jedi! I’ve said it before and I’ve said it again, the title of the show might refer to Grogu :)

Ahsoka: giggling at “laser swords”

Aww man, these trees aren’t this way because of the giant animals? The Magistrate did this? Goddammit. I was hoping it was just like, a life cycle of the planet.

I like that even though Ahsoka is grownup and serious you can still see all those little smirks <3 Love that Snips!

CAN’T BELIEVE DIN TRUSTED HER WITH THE MUDHORN PAULDRON

Hey! Din learned how to drop-kick someone with the Rising Phoenix!!! Good job Din! Learning from Koska, I see. (Not as graceful as her, though.)

Huh, he still has durasteel or something on his shoulder, from under the beskar. I don’t know WHY THEY WON’T PUT OUT AN OFFICIAL DRAWING OF HOW ALL THE ARMOR FITS TOGETHER.

Look dude, don’t even mess with Din Djarin, all right? And none of this “we’re a lot alike” bullshit. But I did appreciate this guy’s attempt to “I don’t even care, bro” as foolish at it was.

WHERE IS THRAWN AWWWWWW FUCKING YEAAAAAH I still only know him from the Zahn trilogy but I’m so excited they repurposed such an awesome character.

“Wait here, I’ll... go get him.”

Din rocking him gently in the hammock back and forth ;___;

... how... long did they stay there just... cuddling... I fucking CAN’T

Ahsoka: “...it’s been like four hours. I’d better go look for them. Either Mando’s not giving the kid up or the kid doesn’t want to go. Shoulda seen that coming...”

I totally got this wrong in one of my fics. I wrote Din flying the Razor Crest back to the town. I’d forgotten HE SITS THERE SO LONG WITH THE KID AHSOKA HAS TO GO AND FIND THEM when Din was the one who claimed “I’ll go get him, wait here.” OMG DIN. JUST ADMIT YOU WANT TO PARENT THIS CHILD FOREVER.

The concept art of Din and Grogu striding off into the sunset together? My HEART

Man. I’m enjoying the Clone Wars, but I’m just so sad at all the badness that’s going to happen to everybody in them ;_; And thinking of how many things Ahsoka has gone through by this point is just... the Star Wars galaxy just hates people not being traumatized, doesn’t it?

Do I have the strength to get through The Tragedy tonight??? I mean, there’s Boba Fett and Fennec Shand being badass, and the best opening of any media, ever, but then there is PAIN and CRUELTY and it ISN’T FAIR.

[the-beskar-alchemist]

Welp.....it's that time again.....a bit delayed, but hey it gave me time to process a little more

Once again, my ramblings are below the cut...

- Well first off I would like the point out that the Crest is flying through space in the first minute, but a few seconds later Din's in the cockpit talking to Grogu and the stars are stationary? Not sure if this was a goof, or......OR.......DID DIN "PULL OVER" PRIOR TO GETTING TO THE PLANET SO HE'D HAVE MORE TIME???? - DIN DJARIN CHUCKLING AT GROGU'S CUTENESS HAS CLEARED MY SKIN, WATERED MY CROPS, AND RESTORED BALANCE TO THE FORCE - Din trying to have a mini-training session while still in flight, like a single-parent helping their child finish some homework in the car before getting to school in the morning, such dad energy - Din trying to convince himself that he's doing the "right" thing by handing the baby off to the Jedi, telling himself that he's not capable of training Grogu properly, baby I wish you could see how badly little green bean wants to stay with you - When Din asked Grogu the first time if he understood what he was saying, it looks like Grogu shrugs, yet ANOTHER thing he picked up from papa Din it seems - DIN "IRON MAN" DJARIN FLYING HIS BOY TO THE "MAGIC ROCK" - "Does this look Jedi to you?" Din you are SUCH a dad - SLAVE 1 INCOMING I REPEAT SLAVE 1 INCOMING.......I always found Boba's ship to be kind of strange, it flies face forward, but lands backwards? Does this mean Boba is basically lying down when he lands, or did I forget something? I mean it looks like the cockpit rotates....? - BOBA MOTHERFUCKING FETT - Boba mentioned Cobb by name, which means he knew Cobb had his armor, now why didn't he try to take it back before? Why track Din across the galaxy to square of with him instead and take it? - Boba was NOT about to fuck with those Whistling Birds, and he knew the best way to "disarm" Din was to make him remove the jetpack so he couldn't fly around to get the angle on him and Fennec. NEVER underestimate Boba Fett. - There's more questions than answers surrounding Fennec, not to mention Boba who appears to have survived the Sarlacc pit with the acid. Fennec SHOULD have bled out by the time Boba found her, instead she was near death......unless Calican's aim was just shit and she was only weakened by the shot. - BOBA FUCKING UP STORMTROOPERS IS MY NEW SEXUALITY - That boulder gave me PS1 Tomb Raider flashbacks - Din honey you REALLY need to learn to shut the doors on the Crest when you're not around it - Some might think Din's being stupid for continuing to try and breach the barrier around the kid but honestly, he's a father desperately trying to get his kid to safety, logic sometimes takes a backseat in that regard. Although I do wonder why he didn't try saying Grogu's name in an attempt to break him out of the trance. - Din trying to be honorable and taking the hits for Fennec so she can escape, I truly do love how he's not the type to waste energy on unnecessary rivalries. He doesn't truly see her as an enemy, just a former bounty he had to forfeit, it's just business. - OKAY I TAKE IT BACK, BOBA FUCKING UP STORMTROOPERS IN THE ARMOR IS MY NEW SEXUALITY......also can we talk about how they started to run away after he used the knee-shot? Boi really did crank his bad bitchness UP once he put on the armor - I know people are being critical of Din's reaction to the Razor Crest being destroyed, but let's be real here: This man compartmentalizes like a MOTHER FUCKER, he can't afford to break down and be upset on a whim, he's got to stay focused on the task at hand, which usually involves a life or death situation. Plus he's surrounded by people he doesn't know/trust well enough to be that vulnerable around them. He's BARELY that vulnerable around Cara and Greef and he's known them for a while. - I swear the Slave 1 looks like the space equivalent of a sarcophagus - Din kept bringing up the integrity of the Creed when Boba told him to return the armor, and then Boba takes the extra step and shows proof of his ownership through the chain code. I feel as though he was trying to convince Din in a way that was more fitting to Mandalorian code, rather than a birthright. Din appears to have already been accepting of Boba's claim on the armor prior to this moment, considering he not longer challenged the claim once the fighting started. I do find it interesting that he didn't bring up the "you do not wear a helmet, you're not Mandalorian" concept. I think this is a sign that he's started to see how differently the Creed can be followed depending on the Mandalorian in question, but the core values are the same. - Boba said his chain code has been in the armor for 25-years, meaning he got the armor right around the time Din probably swore the Creed (??). Din doesn't appear that familiar with Boba's/Jango's name, but I wonder if tales of the Fetts ever surfaced in the covert. - So Din does NOT have the jetpack on while speaking with Cara, I'm hoping it's on Boba's ship at least - Din wants to enlist Mayfield's help to track Gideon's ship, but that would mean Din has to do something for Mayfield, because I highly doubt setting him free is going to be enough. I've already claimed he's going to negotiate both X'ian's and Burg's release as well, but I feel it's going to cost even more than that. - Every time I see the inside of an Imperial ship I want to play Wolfenstein - I honestly don't believe Grogu will go darkside, that would create too much of an arc for a show like this to handle. It would require a level of commitment that I don't think they'll follow through with, so I'm thinking the baby's reaction was purely a child having a supernatural tantrum, venting his frustrations. He could've easily choked the stormtroopers to death, but instead he chooses to toss them like dolls. He doesn't want to do bad things, but when he gets emotional his first instinct is to protect himself and Din. That's not a sign of darkness, that's just self-preservation. - So at first I thought the kid was trying to touch the darksaber, but now I'm thinking he was ignoring the saber and focusing on using the force to hurt Gideon, he continues to lift his hand even after the darksaber is switched off. I'm thinking he DOES recognize the saber in some way, he didn't seem that surprised. - I can't believe they actually had baby-sized shackles on hand, but then again they knew they would be dealing with a force-sensitive baby, better safe than sorry I guess I'm going to remind everyone that Din's calmness in the face of tragedy should NOT be mistaken for nonchalance, nor a lack of trauma, it's just how he powers through terrible situations. Dark!Din is coming, it's going to be Liam Neeson and John Wick COMBINED Only two more episodes to go, until next time! <3

[littlespaceporgs]

The Clone Wars Reacts - Part 3

Alternatively, Leah misses daddy Plo, gets annoyed by droids and is thoroughly entertained by Jar Jar Binks while simultaneously simping for Padme.

TA~DA! Welcome to part 3 of the reacts series, where we cover episodes 6, 7 and 8! I won’t lie to you, I actually found episode 6 really boring, 7 was less boring and 8 was maybe a little bit funny and I lowkey enjoyed it so much. So yeah, the first two reacts are kinda boring because I was super bored, but 8 is kinda funny. As usual, major spoilers for season 1 of the clone wars.

Part 1 - Episodes 1 and 2 Part 2 - Episodes 3, 4 and 5

So, lets do thissssss!

Tags (as always, let me know if you want a tag!): @acciokenobi​ @roseofalderaan​ @catsnkooks​ @peacelandbread​ @littlevodika​ @icedcoffeeandgays​ @captainrexstan​ @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky​ @mcu-padawan​ @onabouteverything​ @fractiouskat​

Episode 6: Downfall of a Droid

Notes: since writing these, I’ve discovered that I am 100% without a doubt very much a simp for Plo Koon and it shows.

> Pre-warning, I’m writing this on paper and on the train, so there may be slightly less thots thoughts in this one

> “Suffering serious defeats by Grievous”??????? All we’ve seen for 5 episodes now is Grievous lose????????

> Yeah Anakin! You should listen to Ahsoka!

>> (you need to trust my babey)

> Where the fuck is Plo when you need him? I WANNA SEE HIM

> Maybe that image will tide me over? (we all know it wont but that’s off topic)

> Oh for fucks sake I’ve had enough of Grievous

> YEAH R2, WE ALL KNOW YOURE THE ONLY REASON ANAKIN IS ALIVE!

> “this is too easy” oooohhhhh boy, you say that now......

*Grievous ditches his ship*

> ✨ disappointed, but not surprised ✨

> THERE IT IS!!!!! “I got a bad feeling about this” - bringing the total count so far to 2

> W H A T

>> R2D2?????????????????????????

>>> EXCUSE ME WTF?!?!?!?! DID THEY JUST - R2D2 NO!

> OBI WAN HOW DARE YOU R2D2 IS NOT REPLACEABLE

>> This is one of the few times I am more annoyed with Obi-wan than I am horny for him

>>> Wait no scratch that - i just looked at his face again 💖💖💖💖

> I miss Plo already, can he come back now?

> Oh Ahsoka, you’re so cute 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

> omg Goldie???? I LOVE IT he’s kinda adorable

> ooooohhh boy R2 is going to be on that dodgy ass ship isnt he?

> hahahahahahhahahahahhahahahahahahah

>> fart humour, i love it!

> Unique items, huh

> OH SHIT THATS THE TYPE OF DROID FROM THE MANDALORIAN

>> just thinking about the mandalorian reminds me of the new armour/helmet kink i discovered I had and how much i love pedro pascal

> Goddammit R3. oh shit oh shit bad droids BAD DROIDS

> is R2 just a really good droid? or do all of them make this many mistakes???

> hahahaha ‘gramps’, Ahsoka he’s literally only 5/6 years older than you

> *GASP* Anakin, he’s not a lightswitch!

> Oh shit, R2 was on the ship!

>> HA HA I WAS RIGHT

> fuck fuck Grievous no dont take R2 bad droid

> okay, I love obi-wan but he’s being a little harsh

>> mild turn-on but ok 👀👀

> aaaawwww the little stomping when he’s excited

> Do we get to see R2 do a mad escape?

>> WE DO!

> oh no, R2 you were so close

> tracking beacon?! R3, what’re you doing?!

> sorry anakin, they definitely saw it

> R3 WHAT ARE YOU DOING? THE HYPERDRIVE TOO?

> YEAH AHSOKA, YOU SAVE ANAKIN’S BUTT

> You, know, I’m starting to wonder if R3 is doing all this deliberately??

> lowkey, I want to tally the amount of droids grievous hurts/destroys

> well, i want R2 back in the next episode, please and thank you.

Episode 7: Duel of the Droids

> Okay, all I want is for Anakin to hurry up and find R2, because I want this arc to be over

> I’m going to keep this reacts fairly short because I’m a little bit bored

> All I want is more Plo content, is that too much to ask???????

>> If you can’t tell I have a thing for Plo Koon and I officially joined the simp club for him.

> This trandoshan guy is just.... bleh 🤢

* insert gross shiver* 

> YEAH R2 YOURE DOING SO WELL! HOLY SHIT GO R2D2!!!!

> I said it in part 1, and I’ll say it again, R2′s whirring is a mood

> Okay so fucking R3 just turned R2 down, so I am definitely starting to think this is deliberate?

>> HOLY FUCK I JUST REALISED A THING! DUEL OF THE DROIDS???????? R3 VS R2??????????????????

> ANAKIN IGNORE OBI-WAN LIKE USUAL, YOU GO AND SAVE R2 OK?!

> Rex’s expression when he’s told to carry R3 is comedy gold by the way

> Oh please Captain, kindly fuck me

> FUCK YEAH AHSOKA!

> *sighs* Oh the droid humour

> I mean, it is a type of head adjustment I guess 🤷‍♀️

> ...

>> Did you seriously think grievous, being the slimy bastard he is, wasn’t going to kill you?????

> OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT I WAS RIGHT FUCK R3 MAN

> AHSOKA KICK GRIEVOUS’ BIN CHICKEN LOOKI- oh no she was thrown into a wall, never-mind.

> R2 YES ZAP THAT GODDAMN DROID AND SAVE ANAKIN

> oh this is awkward, I love how R2 is insulted that he got R3 hahahahahahahha

> YES AHSOKA YOURE RIGHT, HE IS A STUBBY LITTLE BACKSTABER

> okay the most interesting point of this episode is ahsoka is escaping grievous

> OH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT AGAIN?! R2 AND R3 ARE DUELLING!!!! I CAN SEE THE FUTURE OR SOME SHIT LIKE A JEDI

> THATS RIGHT BITCH R2D2 IS BETTER

> anakin looking out for R2 is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen

> ngl, i had a small degree of satisfaction when I saw R3 get smashed to bits

> “oh anakin... one day” obi-wan is a mood

> oh thank god its over, alright what’s up next?

Episode 8: Bombad Jedi

> HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH DOES THIS ONE HAVE JAR JAR IN IT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

> please tell me it has jar jar in it, then it will surely be funnier than the last 2 eps

> OH SHIT THIS EPISODE HAS PADME TOO IM SO HAPPY YAY

> oh in the white outfit too, i love this woman so much

> I’m going to put a photo hear so you can appreciate it too

> My horny bisexual senses are tingling

> HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHA IM ALREADY LAUGHING AT THE STUPID FROG

>> *for context he already fucked up once and we are 1 minute and 15 seconds into the episode

> she has a point though, C3PO does usually get into trouble

> oh boy, he sounds mad.... I’m getting a sinking feeling about this

> oh no

>> ah shit he’s gone and joined the separatists

> YOU DONT GET THE RIGHT TO CALL HER SWEET YOU TRAITOR

> I am much more entertained nonetheless by this episode

> wait so they fart insults???? it sounds like a fart and i giggled a little

> Oh and now jar jar’s trying to talk to them

> HAHAHAHAH C3 always gets shit thrown at him or shot at, whenever he’s in an episode I get a little bit happy 

> HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH ITS A FUCKING MAGNET OH C3 YOU POOR DROID

> why does he automatically jump to jar jar’s been killed oh my god so little faith like its a swamp planet???? and jar jar comes from a swamp planet????? of course he gone survive falling into water????

> buta mesa sav-ed you? i love this stupid creature oh my god hahahahaha

> HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA THE JEDI CLOAK OMG

>> definitely 100% anakins, and I love the Padme has the equivalent of one of his hoodies

>>> I want one too

> ooooohhhh this is not going to go well

> oh boy

> I’m guessing this is where the bombad jedi comes from?

> DARTH JAR JAR

>> I am so sorry no its not mine, but I have no idea who’s it is

> wheresa jedi? OH MESA JEDI?

> have you guys seen zootopia? specifically where they trigger a ‘howl’ with the wolves??? Thats what I headcanon the droids are like with ‘roger roger’

> DAMN PADME THATS SOME MADASS CORE STRENGTH

>> crush me with those muscles please

> “There’s no jedi in here, wait there’s no prisoner in here!” hahahahahahahahah

> One day I’m going to have to do a little audio recording so you all know what sound I make whenever I’ve written hahahahahaha

> FUCK YEAH PADME SLAY THOSE DROIDS

> “I’m afraid the ship has been destroyed.” 

>> “Battle droids?” *shakes head*

>>> “... Jar Jar?”

>>>> “Jar Jar.”

> obviously Padme was right, she usually is

> oh boy Jar Jar is your only hope? you’re in for a shock buddy

> Padme is an excellent shot by the way

> OH MY GOD IT ATE HIM TO PROTECT HIM THATS SO SWEET

> “I think Jar Jar’s dead.” “Oh again?” goddamn it C3PO

> YEAH SLUG CREATURE THING GOOD JOB!

> ...

> excuse me????

> WHAT A FUCKING LEGEND HERE I WAS HATING ON UNCLE ANO WHEN HE IS STILL IN THE REPUBLIC

> okay he has my forgiveness now :))))))

alright, I enjoyed episode 8, 6 and 7 were a little lackluster, but I did like 8 a lot actually, more than I thought I would 

anyways, see you next time for 9, 10 and 11!! (I’m pretty sure I saw ventress and kit fisto in the title image, so be prepared for major ass thots because i am very heavily attracted to one (1) assassin and one (1) fish man)

[the-desolated-quill]

The Mandalorian Represents Everything I Hate About Disney - Quill’s Scribbles

This post contains spoilers for the first two episodes, if you care about that sort of thing.

Yes, after four months of wallowing in a depressive funk, your lord and saviour the Desolated Quill has returned to (hopefully) start posting semi-regularly again. And what better way to mark my return than by kicking my favourite dead horse Disney.

So what have you been doing since this coronavirus epidemic started? I for one have been spending most of the time trying and failing to persuade my mother not to get a Disney+ subscription. The rise of streaming TV services represent the very height of greed and stupidity within the film and television industry. See it’s not enough for these studios to share their profits with the likes of Netflix and Amazon. Rampant capitalism dictates that they must have every conceivable penny imaginable, hence why we’re seeing the slow gating off of content and the emergence of new streaming platforms like Disney+, Starzplay, DC Universe, HBO Max, Apple TV and YouTube. Yes, even Youtube has a subscription service now. It’s like that episode of Oprah Winfrey. You get a streaming service, you get a streaming service, you get a streaming service, EVERYBODY gets a streaming service! Except the problem is that the reason why Netflix and Amazon took off was because it was convenient to get all of our entertainment from one location. Now with content spread out across multiple platforms, customers are having to pick and choose who to subscribe to as only the very rich can afford to subscribe to everyone. It’s ostensibly a televisual arms race coupled with classism. Make no mistake, the motivation behind the rise of streaming services is not motivated by customer satisfaction nor artistic merit, but rather corporate greed. And Disney is by far the worst offender. There is literally not a single reason why they couldn’t have kept their stuff on Netflix. The only reason Disney+ exists is so that they can get their grubby mitts on even more money than they already have (which is quite a lot).

So my mum got a Disney+ subscription because she never fucking listens to a single word I say and we ended up sitting down to watch the first two episodes of The Mandalorian. The new Star Wars TV spinoff created by Iron Man director Jon Favreau set in-between Return of The Jedi and The Force Awakens.

As much as I have complaints about the way Disney have handled the Star Wars license, I confess I was curious and dare I say even excited about The Mandalorian when it was first announced. I’ve gone on record to say that I didn’t want nor care about a sequel trilogy because, as far as I was concerned, Return Of The Jedi was a perfect ending to the Skywalker saga and we didn’t need to see what happened next. That’s like wondering what happens after Cinderella married Prince Charming. We don’t need to see it. They lived happily ever after. The end. The spinoffs, on the other hand, including the Anthology films and The Mandalorian, I was much more excited for because it was an opportunity to tell different kinds of stories and explore areas of the Star Wars universe we wouldn’t normally get to see in the main films. If the Star Wars franchise has to be expanded upon, I’d rather it was like this. Lets move away from the Skywalkers and the Jedi and concentrate on other stuff. So a space western set after the original trilogy depicting a lone bounty hunter trying to make ends meet after the fall of the Empire was very appealing to me.

Sadly that’s not what I got.

I’ll just be blunt. I saw the first two episodes of The Mandalorian and I didn’t like it very much. It’s not bad as such. It’s competently made. I’ve seen some behind the scenes videos and there’s clearly a lot of talented people working hard on this show. That being said, the story of The Mandalorian is... well... kind of rubbish.

So lets talk about it, shall we?

As far as I’m concerned there are three reasons why The Mandalorian doesn’t work. The first is the complete lack of tension. It’s a problem that’s plagued Star Wars since The Phantom Menace. Despite all the challenges and obstacles that are thrown at the characters, it never seems to affect them or even pose much of a threat. We saw that with Anakin Skywalker in the prequels and Rey in the sequels, and it’s the same here. The Mandalorian is this amazing dude who’s skilled and awesome and the bestest fighter ever. He can take out all these bad guys single-handedly and can do all these cool things. Except none of that is interesting. It’s boring. People like to defend Rey saying she’s no worse than Luke Skywalker, but that’s not true because, unlike Rey, Luke isn’t perfect. He struggles, he makes mistakes, and he grows and evolves over time. Rey is just this perfect woman who can do no wrong and who can pull any random superpower out of her arse for the sake of plot convenience. It’s just bad writing. While The Mandalorian never gets quite as bad as that, there does seem to be this obsession with making this awesome, cool dude, but that ends up coming at the cost of any tension or threat the story could have. 

In the first episode, we see his bounty explore his ship. This could have been an opportunity to create some tension. Maybe he could try and sabotage the ship. Or try to escape. Complicate matters for the Mandalorian. But no. The Mandalorian knew what the guy was doing and instantly recaptures him. Same goes for a scene later on when the Mandalorian and some killer robot has to fight a whole army of mercenaries. How are they going to get out of this? Very easily it turns out. Not only do they beat them within a couple of minutes, the mercenaries are also clearly the worst shots ever. The robot is like seven foot tall and moving at the speed of frozen treacle, and yet they don’t manage to land a single hit on the guy. Where’s the suspense? Where’s the danger? By the end of the first episode, I was just bored senseless.

Which leads me to my second biggest problem. The total lack of originality. Is it really too much to ask for someone to actually come up with their own fucking ideas? Literally everything in The Mandalorian is basically nicked wholesale from other, better Star Wars films. The first two planets we visit in episode one are basically variations on Tatooine with the same architecture and everything. There’s even that eye thing that pops out of the door like in Jabba’s Palalce in Return Of The Jedi.  Then, to add insult to injury, we then end up on the actual Tatooine (or at least what I assume is the actual Tatooine. I mean there are Jawas). The Mandalorian is like this Frankenstein assembly of Star Wars memorabilia. Everything has been taken from other films when it makes no sense to do so. The Mandalorian freezes his bounties in carbonite, except that was a process specific to Cloud City. Darth Vader improvised a trap using what was at hand to try and catch Luke. He wasn’t even sure if Luke would survive the freezing process, hence why they tested it on Han Solo first. The only reason it’s here in The Mandalorian is for fanwank purposes. Same goes for the stormtroopers. Why the fuck are there stormtroopers?! Remember where we are in the Star Wars story. The Empire has fallen and the New Republic is taking over. Imperialists are going to be pretty unpopular, wouldn’t you say? So why the fuck would you have stormtroopers wandering around in full armour out in the open? It makes zero sense. Even the killer robot is copied whole sale from IG-88 from Empire Strikes Back. Why don’t you come up with your own killer robot design?

Then there’s this little shit:

Yeah, I kind of knew this was coming because I’ve seen the GIFs circulating on Tumblr beforehand, which kind of ruined the ending of the first episode somewhat. But even if I didn’t know this was coming, the ‘twist’ still wouldn’t work because it’s not really a twist if you think about it. What actually happens? The Mandalorian finds the Child and it’s an eighty year old gremlin. Okay. So what? The only reason it’s ‘shocking’ is because it vaguely looks like Yoda. Other than that, who gives a shit? It doesn’t really mean anything.

Which leads me to my third biggest problem. Why should I give a shit about anything that’s going on? What are the stakes? There aren’t any. We don’t know anything about the Mandalorian and we have no reason to care about him or his job. We don’t know anything about the Child or why he’s so important. The only reason people are interested is because it reminds them of the other films. As a story in and of itself, there’s simply nothing there. I don’t know who any of these people are, what they want, why they want it and what will happen if they fail. So why should I give a shit? And nowhere is this more apparent than in the second episode. The Jawas agree to give the Mandalorian’s ship parts back if he retrieves an egg from some monster. Why do they want the egg? I don’t know. I literally have no idea. They never say. And yet that’s what the entire episode revolves around. This isn’t a story. It’s just random stuff happening. And what’s more it has nothing to do with the overall plot. You can literally cut out the entirety of episode two and it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. Same is true of that annoying fuckface that keeps insisting ‘he has spoken’ (I swear by the end I wanted to kick that old git in the face, he irritated me so much). We waste the second half of the first episode watching the Mandalorian piss about with some toad/horse thing only to then make his way back to the ship on foot in episode two. So what was the fucking point of that then? Why is anything fucking happening?

And this is what perfectly sums up the problems with Star Wars under Disney’s regime. If anything The Mandalorian acts as a microcosm for everything that’s wrong with the current movies and indeed Disney as a company. These movies aren’t movies. They’re products designed to pander to a gullible fanbase’s nostalgia. The entire sequel trilogy was basically the original trilogy repackaged and resold with nothing unique or original to offer. And the reason The Rise Of Skywalker felt so unsatisfying to everyone watching was because the story was never planned. They pivoted it to whatever the focus groups enjoyed about the previous film. That’s why the whole trilogy felt so uneven and directionless. And it’s not just Star Wars. Obviously there’s the live action remakes of the Renaissance movies, now with added nods and winks to meta commentary without actually addressing actual complaints people may have had. This also extends to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. How many of these fucking movies have we had where the bad guy tries to take over the world with an Infinity Stone? Thor: The Dark World and Guardians Of The Galaxy are pretty much the exact same movie. Spider-Man: Far From Home, a film co-produced with Sony, is ostensibly a rehash of Iron Man 3, which in turn had recycled a lot of its story from Pixar’s The Incredibles, another Disney product. Even Black Panther, a movie I absolutely adore, borrows its basic plot structure from Thor: Ragnarok. Disney are so unoriginal and so lazy that they have effectively started cannibalising themselves. The Mandalorian is just the latest example of this. At least with Black Panther you had a talented filmmaker like Ryan Coogler who was able to take these borrowed elements and spin it into something more meaningful and with more emotional impact. At least there was some actual passion put into that film.

People are no doubt going to have a go at me saying I’m being too harsh and that I haven’t given The Mandalorian a fair chance. Well I’m sorry, but I’ve given it two episodes and I’m bored out of my mind. It’s a cynically produced, uninspired load of waffle. I’m not going to waste my time sitting through more episodes in the hopes that it might get good later on. That’s not how good storytelling is supposed to work and it sickens me to think that this has pretty much become the new normal for this industry.

[throwingideasatthewall]

Clone Wars          Escape from Kadavo

Well this is certainly a      scene change and one that doesn’t really make sense,

   I mean I thought it was a Camp of Holding for slaves

     Where they got transported to different places on the island to do     slave labor, per         hap        -s

   Now there’s apparently a lava pit under it,

            How?

  That

    -doesn’t make any sense

    Also wtf,

   Coal, metal

Since when was   refinery really this place’s MO      (Like this is really starting to feel like they got the        Mandalorian           And           This        Set         -ting        s       Switch           ed,)

      Not to say they can’t be a     coal/mining industry,  

      Just, that the setting should    reflect it,

     From we saw there was nothing to indicate this was anything but        an ar       chai          c      Soc-either

     With no flues        Or fu    -mes

     To indicate   that they were burn        Ing combustibles,

   Honestly some kind of stalactites   mine,

     Or someplace where they       dig for      “valuables,”            -like      prized st-          one for         Jew           elery-          Would          make         more        sense-       -        Anyway, I’m getting.      way too        focus        -ed          on          the        se-          tt         -        Ing-      - Again Rex is    just straight up chilling,     This is      n’t       his first rodeo with abusers,

  Ok, seriously what was up with the    Wil       -h         el          m,?

     (Like I don’t honestly see anything          steep enough to fall off)

   You could say      it was a whip but we haven’t seen any        Of       That,      Ye      t-

  I don’t get the    screaming-

  Also that   dude just attacked him out of nowhere,

  Like   could we have gone    establishment of that?

   Like,

  What was even his ber-zerk        butt-        on       there?

   Dude was doing his job

  Like if it was a faster thing you kind of have to establish that before hand      -        Also then the environment, the ma      jor      ity,       Would be working at a   breakneck speed,      With a sense of anxiety,       In the       air,

    Then,     the whip,

  He-     was?

  (Like that was just        plain - pointless

     Not even an emotional reaction

     Like that told us absolutely nothing about the setting      and character

    The mate didn’t even have a reaction

    It’s one random guy that just decided to hit      someone else-

   Like that’s not even calculated never mind       systematic,

    Also I like how Rex like yeah      I wouldn’t know anything about that,        feck’in             Jedi             -

      Also       “Effect?”

      Not really more like 

     “ Dave’s having a real rough day and I really don’t want to talk to              (In that               state)

          Like they didn’t wince.

         There was no antici             pation-

          No                  anxiety,

            Like no signs of this is had a           permanent          psychologically            damaging              affect

(Note all toxic behavior is           harmful,               The difference here is             Between                The intensity of the        in-dentation,

            It can get pretty       bad

            And enabling        tox can have serious effects                 (Pretty                   bad)

              (Requiring a lot more time   to undo)

               From;            Dave is really an    asshole,

                 To                           I am really an    asshole,

                  To                    The world is really an   asshole (And Dave is the       savior-)

   (Apologies to anyone who’s chosen name is          Dave or similar vernacular,               It’s not out of any Mala-    cian-              Just the first identi          fication I could think of,

          And tox-    ic logic is really not something you wanna enable,

         Again what the Frick?

(This is really not an   or-ganic way to      introduce        your       rules

Like, “oh yeah    speech is for-bidden,       Have a nice        day,”

 Like      you   think   dude-

Like you were pretty damn path     -etic     abu       ser-        (s)         -    (Sla       vers)       Wow,

   There was no emotions or anything     -be      cause the set up was so poor,

  W-        h      -a         t

    Again the emotion    is non existence,

  Also what the fuck     happened to Rex over there?     -      

When did he      go down?

 (Like don’t    get me wrong   I saw a flash in the corner?)

  But why       him?

   [also did the scenery just completely changed because he was on the far end of Ken-        Obi with something in between

      Some thing they were       shoveling the stuff on?

     That’s just       gone in this shot]

  [Also,           From a narra-         tive,     standpoint wouldn’t it have made more sense and been a more engaging concept,          If the guy had threat          -ene             d-            The clone          in Obi- wan’s              stead,             Seeing as of the     republic’s version of slavery,

      Rex pos          s-             ib          ly

     Reflec-         ting on the          (Other           Species?)

And    contrasted with them,

   On how much    Obi-Wan views him as a possession,

   (Or his reaction to the people under him getting hot          ,and why)

   Allo-      wing for more heart, 

     “I’m            sorry,”

        “No              Wors              e-               Than               The            Kamino               -ins,”

       Rex’s         Sub             Cat;

        Seeing the people he was trained (and order-ed) to protect              Harm                 -ed                   -                    Much like the people (under him) were harmed during the Kamooin.   s-

  Groom          -ing,                  ?]

      Any      -way,  

    Again,     and what was the emotion?       -         M-aster

  Rex must be like,         Kar-           ma

     If he’s   not,

    [Never mind      he isn’t asleep      just one frame     made it look weird?]

   Ai-       gh -t

  Oh yeah seriously check up on that one guy instead of you know the person under the command,

    Also;       

 What The fuck?

    IS THAT GOOGLY EYES?

    What the feck,

     What is with that       expression-

     What is with that              facial-

   (Seriously someone tell me what      emotions this is supposed to por-     tray!

    What?

    Also yeah 

  they completely waltz.       -ed     past the ab-        us         -er.        Be-         Ing        -         Con-          fron         ted-              by         the       Con-        Seq-        Uen        Ce        (s)          Of       their      actions,

  It’s not pointed out that Obi-Wan totally caused this by (not)-    listen-ing,        To dude’s        initiative      to stay out of it

(Or, what he did to Cody        Rex,       and basically         all the clones,)

(And what could’ve been a good moral about negative effects of “Pos-       itive  over-       invo        lv           e-       Ment-            )

   so I am slightly big mad

         Not com-   -pletely

          But I’m      get-ting          th-ere

   Drinking         my        slightly       bitter       ju-ice-

   Gett    -ing         pr-etty          salty

     Which is odd since I normally don’t criticize      aesthetic differences

              Like                    This-       -

   The problem is it isn’t the aesthetic       that I have a problem with,        (You want to have a Obi-Wan show more compassion to the slave of similar generation then to Rex?

    (That’s per-fect-ly fine and could even show how he values his job and  Mission over someone he is actually wound-        ed-)

     However that’s not it-

        (It doesn’t             even do that)

   My problem with it is that it shows no        emotion

   No emphasis

   No moral

   It’s - empty               -          Watching this scene,     there is absolutely nothing I get out of it,

       Also wow that was a        quick turnaround,

Like seriously     it generally takes longer      for that kind of behavior to be indented,

  This is literally the only Jedi       he’s seen be there

       One time

         This is barely scraping        logic,          And            even             then,                not              really            requiring-              pre-knowledge                  of the emotions               and general plot               (before                       hand)

   I know that I should feel bad for the        slave because         slav-ery is a bad thing           And any real person would be          pretty upset it/             Suffer for the toxic environment,

         Note; it’s not from the               medium

         I didn’t gain that                 knowledge             from the medium

(In which the chara-       cters      actions and emotions,         Make me        conclude,       “oh wow,         slavery is a real         bad thing!”

   No the characters are wooden puppets          with no emotion,

          Going from;                Point a to point B

      Nothing to connect them              (No preamble)

         No emotions

         No motive(s)

       ‘why is Obi-Wan doing what he’s doing?’

         ‘I don’t know’

                    (And I honestly don’t think the wr-     iters did either)

       And no damn interest

        Barely scraping        logic..

   ‘Why is Obi-wan      doing what he’s doing,’

     ‘Because he has the rescue the slaves,’

    ‘ why does he have to rescue the slaves,?’

      ‘ because you have to rescue slaves,’

        It’s literally circular

   Rely- ing completely on the cookie   cu-    tter,

    Resulting in it being as flat as a cookie when      rolled over by a rolling pin,

         Where                It             should;                Be;

    “ why does Obi-Wan want to rescue the slaves?”

        “Because of his dedication to his moral compass/ because of his dedication to his generation/ non-      clone- ena         blers,/      (Whatever        you want           to put            there)

           (Hey that was almost emotion from   ,Rex)

         (We’re      2:29      Min      Ut        es        In,        And I’m already        salty about the episode refusal to be         fun,

     -

   That’s nice        exposition      *Palpatine*.       Sidious,

     Tra-        dition           (S);

    Mill-

  That’s literally all I      -heard-

      -(I assume they’re saying             “millions,”)

         Which would actually be neat if we got to see some you know human soldiers on the Darkside to counterbalance the whole do you know clone troopers, contrasting the dark side’ s more ethical but none the less toxic practices,

    To the light side’s-          Gen Break-

      De-       fiance?

   (I think you mean that other Zygerian’s death because we have literally not seen the queen act even remotely rebellious,

   Yeah she      con-     templates possibly free-        ing them,

   But we haven’t seen her openly communicate with either of these 2 to inform them

   And she still wants to keep     Anakin,

  So she at least     has one Jedi,

   With the others possibly be blamed on a       -prison break-

      And literally nothing that we’ve seen       com-municating the concept of open - rebel-      lion

   Or any of the connection between      her    and the separatist,

   Again seriously        how am I     supposed to feel about that             (Also the one person that gives even the slightest bit of emotion and it’s the villain,)

    Like I’m surprise’d       Dooku’s surprised by that

   (Er-)

    O-k

   Whe-lp 

   (Also, now there         are flues).           (Don’t recall        seeing them                last time,)

        Or just sticks with gold          on them

 (I am very        con-        fused,)

This seems pretty different

And totally safe

  (Also wasn’t the castle       blue?)

  But I’m not against it because it could work with the       symbolism of wild,       Or just.          Wor      -k                 (I know I’m being way too hop-   - eful but I try,

      Re-        hash-

     Easy-

   So why is there no other emotion 

   And why do you look like a         caveman,

    (Eyebrows    constantly furr-        Ow-        ed)

    Also what was with the      pro-nunciation and        emotion?

    Bare,

   Also literally no     one else is paying attention to that guy?        ?

‘ he also doesn’t   cause me to have any emotions’

  Like seriously I know that it’s a cat person but you still have to show some sentient emotion here

   If there’s no emotion,        there’s no risk,

   (Part of   sent- ience)

   Att-        end,

   Again that’s not the cha-    llenge I think they were trying to make it out to be;              (Un-accountabili-          ty)    Aka         What it would work best as;

          Remix;

    “ I’ll would never turn away from a challenge,” Anakin said snarkily,

      The queen se-           duct              iv             el-              y

          Taking his light saber,                -                that works better;

           -                   Ser-iously                       -                       Um-                       No,  

(Last time someone fall from a height that      high, they died,)

   (You have to play by        your       own      rules,             )

    Wha-

    Also again wh        -at-

   Sky -walker

  When          ?-

   -

   Would be nice if you ever         feckin showed it,

       (Seriously the concept of Obi-Wan having to come to terms at least temporary that his Over-involvement has      hurt people is an interesting concept,”

     Also bullshit      that you know that

      (Pretty)

   (You’re all enabled and you haven’t spent any time around     Obi-Wan)

   (That’s a stupid plan            and the animation really doesn’t help,)

       Zy-ger

       Perm     -     R-       i-,

Oh yeah so no reserves,     about using the term,             “master”      After this     schism            ?            -         Y-eah           -         How?           -           W-at

 [The emotions are off the roof and I have no idea 

    with the scale of escalation

   W-at]

   Lesh          -       Li- fe

    You did-            n’t?             -              Emo            tion-

        ?

      Wh-at?

      Who        called-        the       guards?

   Seriously if this is such a constantly abusive (tox) relationship than how do they not know,

     (Unless the previous guards got killed and these          are the         newbies,)

    Because you don’t act like it all don’t have any of the characteristics generally associated with constantly rein-forc       -ed toxicity,         Show-       ed no emotion including     (anxiety and anticipation)         In that previous           fight,

 As well as no negative    con-    seq-    uen      ce          s for your behavior             -               Even now your voice is just     “ oh I’m     dyi-ng-            -,’.                 .        

Meep,

 [Something        happened 

   not a Tumblr refresh,

       Gist;

  There’s absolutely no emotion in the scene and the fact that she just dies after that being the threat is just kind of cheap,

  [and the fact that she had absolutely no expression            (Or emotion)     during that entire fight                  Not showing any of the general signs             -               Just no)

    And that expression is a weird way way to end

   The scene.       not the movie that still going,          (Un-fortunate-         ly)

   Uh, why             Off to you obviously evil factory,       land,”

    Kick,

   Hey     isn’t it that minor antagonist    that hasn’t showed up since the last episode?       . . .       Why?         . . .       And he included       the clone        why?

    (Oh yeah I want the      Jedi Knight         Obi-Wan          Kenobi,          And especially the to my knowledge           (default)             clone.

       -  

       And Rex who is honestly a lot more intimidating,

  K-i

  [Again this is supposed really be about.     Ken-obi but I’m really focusing on     Rex,]

    Wh-        at-        -

   How?!

    They were on a        bug?

    I-

   Ok-

  Sorry my memory     gave out for a moment at the whole     Anakin durp face thing         -       -

 W-h

  W-

Wood

   Again, how is he supposed to do that?

    -       Ter-         -        I-l

   Sl-av          es

   So Ahsoka goes to rescue the slaves while An-a      kin,    stays here and carves a hole,

   En-ough

   No emotion!

   Oh,     I thought he meant         Ah         -soka         -          Oh so yeah let’s bring a warship into what seems to have been         intended as a stealth mission,

      Screw                    Fitt              Ing                Re                Action-

And-

   W-

      .

How   did that change the fact that they have the button that can kill all the    slaves,

    (It didn’t)

Obi-won just apparently stopped giving a       fr-ick         -

  Ray-

   Well then they were impossible to   take out,

 F-a         -           S-l

   But only the         Tyger-ian        (Apologies for any misspelling          I mean Ahsoka’s            kind,)

      “He           -at,”

        “Cut,”

         Ge-n-

         Rex did more than Obi-wan,

          Also yeah     completely forgot about that,

        Also he said               kill,

         [Not further         im-prison,”         ]

       Rex had some      rage-

      Also you’d think that be Obi-Wan       considering how much he’s gotten       ,screwed with         This entire          ,time              -           Wh,at 

      Wh            -y              -

          -

Wh        -y          -     H-ere         -               How is Rex still fighting      guys?         -       Also thanks a lot Obi-Wan      you useless      piece of shit,

   [Again, would         n’t it make           sense?            .)

      W-ell

      -           You just came into a door        just hop them - over-                                -                             Lan      d-

                      Wait,                            How did you just get in, there                     though,

                     .                        Co-                    vert                          -                            ?

O-Kay,     new character,

 W-h

 -

(Also oh no they gave      plo another fleet  

      Great      )

     Ser-iously,   what     where are these guys coming from?        ,     You’ve literally been allowed this dude to heck around the entire time while Rex did all the hard work

La-me,

 Also seriously where was all that                    -  ,coming from-                     -                Wh    at-

Where   was the   emotion?       -      Hey that had no meaning, symbolism      or emotion behind it -       whatsoever,

    I

    ?

       A-i

         -            W-h              -             -           -            Whelp, was completely boring

    Covenants of a good,                  fun story;  

       - Set;  Excessive in instances that don’t directly affect the story’s           up,    cohesivity

       -Tone; Is appropriate

       -Emotions; And appropriate, and consistent and manage to keep a consistent tone,

             (Un-nessary,                        Typically switch-ed for a        more logical tone,                        In works of                      non-fiction,

                  Though may be in both,                        So long as note                        is given,)

        This            film            (Movie      -      Gets absolutely none of it right except the basics for a         good story

      It’s        co -         hesive-          But damn           boring         and empty,

Story         -      Re-write.          -            (I needed something fun after watching that       boring documentary,)

     So let’s       get into it,            -                   (May          feature            episode             -overlap)

   Obi-Wan emerges from the carrier,              With R           -ex,

    (Obi-Wan possibly sub- con-ciously           mov              -ing                  In              Fron                 -t                        Of                    Rex-)

         [Or              Cody]

             The                  minor              antagonist                welcome(s)                 them;                   Obi-wan trading some banter with him                      -                     It                being part of a plan to get captured,

              Unfortunately somethings went ar-ray and instead of              Cody being the back up plan; he got taken with him

               The minor antagonist                                   -               quickly cuts the chatter                                 -                                     By having the guard                               (S-                         bring Cody forward, introducing him as                                                           Obi-Wan’s                                                               Slave

           Giving a veiled threat of                “ would be a shame if something happened to such a                    ,pretty specimen,”

                  Obi-Wan getting   def-ensive,

                      The atag,      Com   menting,       “ Pretty protective,           Of your toy,            Aren’t              You,”

      Before         having           them thrown            somewhere,

         Next time,        we see them they’re getting e-           scor-            ted-             for gem            Min-            Ing,

         (Possibly some black humor from the vil               -ains-                about how people                 will pay,                     “An arm                  or leg

*Pos-sibly        yours,

                For                      the                      stuff,’           

            On the way there one of the guards notices Rex    (Cody)’s                                                                                     ey-ing the place.                                                                                          warning him                                                                                          That,                                                                                           ‘He’s                                                                                        not                                                                                 the only                                                                                     one                                                                                    under                                                                                 ob                                                                            -servation)

                                                                             Possibly                                                                               causing                                                                              a wincing                                                                            or anxious                                                                           reaction                                                                             from                                                                             them                                                                                  .   (I would generally  encourage flashbacks to be        able to - show the emotion          em-          ot            ion,)

      (Under-stand               what is going inside their            head,)

         But for now            I’ll stick           with           the example            given by the show         which is no flashbacks,     The      guard        making        it clear what will happen

Shock-     -Ing-

  The clone       (Eith          er)           Ha-ving       a bad reaction         to this,

     Knee       jerkingly      reaching            out,

     The guard       grabbing him         and         holding him    back -            -           Forced into a      distressing circumstance of         fa            il           -in            g-         The           Miss-         -ion             -

                                                                                             Those two are                                                                                     pretty much out of the action                                                                                for the rest of the episode being                                                                   stuck

                                                  Obi-Wan can’t do anything without hurting Cody                                                       Cody can’t do anything without hurting                                                                         the slaves                                                                               -                                                                              Most of their part is                                                                               contrasting                                                                            the condition,

Most of the     action is with      Ahsoka,        Who talks down that  dweeb         (Maybe someone near-er          to her age)                     And they go break      Obi-Wan out so he can back up, Anakin

    In the Dooku fight,

               The most consistent and                       clear char-                        -acter                          Being                              Q                             -ueen,                              Being a     slaver-

   If         it’s         Ana-       Kin,

          Anakin having to begrudgingly put up with this        slaver’s nonsense

         Be-grudgingly

      - Her talking about how life is slavery     and him just not...

          Then                  Dooku                 Shows                      Up,

   (The whole transition between the mine scene and the Anakin- slaver scene,        Being a cut from the sparks in a mine           To the jewel on her finger              With extra focus       being put on the jewels,

        Possibly all done with all of them              Zy-              gar-ian                (Or of all        the planets that         she’s taking people from-  

      Zygarian            Heir               loom)

          A black stone          (in the middle of her chest)               By a pendant                 (Generally                   implied to be by                 Count Dooku)

    Toxic        court-ing           implied,

              Count Dooku                   announces                a surprise visit,

               The Queen is pleased                    but nervous                       (Hands                         behind -back)

                  “I-”

              Putting        a wine glass down behind it,

                     Dooku is immediately aggressive

        The queen            offering                Anakin as a consolation prize

       As the youngest and newest to the-ir possible              rank,

        Dook-u snark                  Ing,

          Dooku threaten                -ing  to kill

          The queen having issue with that whole main characterization being the collector of rare things

          (Possibly a reflect-                Ion  about the no speaking rule)

             More likely Dooku dismissing her con-           cerns just saying that he can always get her a new one,

            “The Queen possibly wincing at a raised hand                  - if we want to go for indications of                  physical tox-’

          Poss-ibly a conversation about why she put up with           him

        “He treats me well”

        Focus on the necklace and pendent to             - contrast with the choking necklace-

          Possibly a poison               Sub-line

                -                     If you want                    to go there,                       -                    But focusing on Ahsoka,              they broke those guys out,

                 Ahsoka finding a heartbroken                         Jedi,                       Explaining that their res       -pect     ive  clone friend,        Has given up on them

   Ahsoka finding that person,

   Who manages to explain that he can’t        move either-

    To be cut off by the guards      who has really had enough of         every-      thing-

   Decided - screw it if pain isn’t going to make you stop and then might as well put them in a life or death situation,

    Add-ing time on the clock         (Or at least a new var-         iable-)

   Ahsoka possibly     does a whole speech thing          (Since seriously         we’ve seen none of her involvement or even care about         her own         spe-cies)          Via dem            on-          Strat           Ion-

      (Very likely leading to a            riot situation,)

     As they didn’t plan on the           Tagroatians (?)             Rebell              ing due to                crush                  -ed                 spirits,

     That happens                  -           Those two re-         unite and go to fi-ght                Dooku

        (I never.       really cared for the        Zy-            ger-             Ian           queen,)

         If she lives in then,    she’s grateful for them driving off Dooku,          Allows them to get off with the slaves,

      (Necklace might have information            might not,)

   *Honestly I felt it made more sense for        Anakin to be the one in the mine;             The Zy-          garian queen, and Obi         -Wan hav-          ing boomer ban             -ter,              With Obi-Wan a lot more           aware of that stuff,               (Show-ing               worldliness       by identifying the stones)             While Anakin compares       the circumstance to the one that he used to live in,              And the one he enabled Rex living in,           While Ahsoka,    could team up with a          Zy-ger-Ian round              her age,               Possibly some conversations about           enabling-           May-be Ahsoka talking about getting a clone         command of her own-            (If we want the clone commanders to be a constantly          featured theme                here)               Boomer                 Bait,               Busting Anakin out of the            mine,                Obi-Wan getting hidden behind a             cur-tain,                     And going to heck over Dooku,                   (Slaves recovered-)

           Both the Zy-                Gar-                  Ian-                    (And a flirtatious                promise to return                      By                       Obi-wan, )                       [contrast                        Mandalorian]                    Gets                         Free-                        Dom-                        -                         End-                         -

[twilightofthe]

Tell me ALL your SW faves

Aaaaaa thank you!  This took a while cuz this got long, lol sorry!  Aight, so here’s ALL my SW faves for this ask prompt list!

FAVE MOVIE: Revenge of the Sith.  10000%.  It just has everything!  You get to see the Obikin relationship in all its glory, first and foremost, how much those two loved each other more than anything and knew each other better than anyone, and just how much they genuinely got along and then we got our hearts broken watching them have to fight after Anakin made his Goof Of The Millennium and just oooooof all the feels about my boys!  Seeing Padmé and just loving her so gotdang much for being strong and wanting the best life for everyone, all while she was so scared and had so little support from anyone, and just couldn’t do it in the end.  Seeing the end of the Republic, how after a thousand years, just, *poof*, just like that in like two days (yes, I know Sidious was planning it for over a decade but still), the horrific fascination on how Sidious was able to do that.  Just the brilliance of Sheev’s character, how you despise him, but how brilliantly everything was pulled off.  The angst of Order 66, how especially after TCW you love these characters SO MUCH and then you gotta watch them DIE HORRIBLY BY THOSE THEY TRUSTED, THOSE WHO NEVER HAD A CHOICE EITHER.  Did I mention feeling so freaking bad for Obi Wan and his Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day???  Because I really do, he’s so good and kind and we see his life fall apart and ugh I love him.  And y’all, watching Anakin Skywalker fall from grace like the brightest angel he was, you hate him for what he did, but you still can’t help but love him and cry for him and his loss because he was so good, and he did not deserve all this to happen to him but he did it to HIMSELF AAAAGGHHHH.  Also, Obes and Ani were at peak prettiness this movie!!  Just asdfkjglkdskajsrlk best movie love so diggity dang much

FAVE PAIRING: Oh, how EVER will I choose– Obikin.  It’s Obikin, all the way, no contest.  I know I’ve yelled about it a million and one times so I’ll save y’all the rant on how much I adore these disasters and their relationship and how I think they’re goddamn soulmates and the most interesting dynamic in the entire Saga.  I ship them romantically and platonically and just everything, they’re so fucking important to one another and that’s why it hurts so much to watch them fall apart, and that’s why I’m so incredibly happy that they get to canONICALLY SPEND THEIR ENTIRE AFTERLIFE TOGETHER BECAUSE FORCE GHOSTS HELL YEAH.  If I had to pick just secondary fave romantic and platonic relationships, hmmmm that’s hard.  BUT, I’m gonna have to go with Kanera for romantic; SWR was what got me back into Star Wars and one of my favorite parts of it was watching Kanan and Hera, how much I loved them separately, but just how much they were a team together and I love them and I was unbelievably upset when Jedi Night happened (and I still have a rant about how animated Star Wars kills off their romantic couples in the exact same manner, pls ask me about how TCW’s The Lawless and Rebels’ Jedi Night had basically all of the same plot points that ended in killing off a romantic lead).  For other fave platonic relationship, gonna have to go with Luke/Han/Leia BROT3 (separate from Hanleia as a romance, which is probs my 3rd fave).  These disasters were the original Golden Trio, they saved the galaxy together all while yelling dramatically and having each other’s backs to the bitter end (or, at least ‘till the end of ROTJ lol) and I just love them as a team so dang much

FAVE TV SHOW EPISODE: Okay, since there are four TV shows, it’s only fair for me to pick one (or more don’t judge me) from each!  Let’s see, from The Clone Wars, my fave eps have to be the entire Mortis trilogy arc in S3 because Obes/Ani/Snips family dynamic, Force Shenanigans, BEAUTIFUL scene designs, Anakin angst, just so many good things oof, and also Dooku Captured from S1, which I just adore because Obikin snark, annoying Grandpa Dooku, Hondo Fucking Ohnaka making everyone look so bad at their jobs, I just love it agh.  Whoops that was technically four faves, so gotta do four for Rebels too!  Gonna go wiiiiith World Between Worlds from S4 for Badass Ahsoka Tano, Ezra being brave and talented, Sheev being Absolutely Ridiculous, and just the overall Force Shenanigans cuz canon time travel y’all; The Lost Commanders from S2 because Rex is awesome, Kanan angst, and really good Kanan and Ezra bonding and Jedi awesomeness, Fire Across the Galaxy from S1 because of Ghost fam dynamics, Kanan angst, more Kanan and Ezra bonding, and just good stuff, and Twilight of the Apprentice in S2 (lol what about my username?) for being creepy and cool and maKING ME CRY ANAKIN YOU STUPID THRICE COOKED TOILET SEAT LEAVE AHSOKA ALONE.  *cough*  Ok, fine, I’ll stick with only one ep for the other two series.  For Resistance, gonna have to go with the latest ep, actually!  We get to see Kaz being clever and caring about his fam on the Colossus, really cool designs for Aeos and its people, Tam angst, and just everyone shining!  For The Mandalorian, it’s gotta be the finale, Redemption, we get Din name, Armorer kicking everyones asses and me loving it, BABY YODA DOING THE HAND WAVE, Din getting over his issues with droids and connecting with IG only for IG to FUCKING DIE, DIN AND BABY YODA BEING AN OFFICIAL CLAN OF TWO, Taika just knocking this whole episode out of the park with the funny scouttroopers at the beginning who still deserved the ass-whooping they got for fucking murdering Kuiil and hiTTING BABY YODA YOU SLIMY FUCKNUGGETS–

FAVE CHARACTER: Alright, look, I can narrow it down to FIVE and that is IT.  I just love too many Star Wars characters, I can’t go lower than top five!  Ok, so my four favorites are Obi Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Leia Organa, Kanan Jarrus, and Finn Skywalker-Dameron-Tico (i SAID what i SAID.)  AIGHT so for starters, a lot of my favorite characters in different franchises fall under various archetypes I have for faves.  Obi Wan fits one of my more popular ones: “Old, reluctant and more than slightly-questionable parental badass with a mysterious past that makes you love them all the more when you realize just how beautiful and tragic and deserving-better they were when that past is revealed”.  I latched onto this dude from the start when I just liked the OT (tho Leia was always my fave lol), and I wanted to know about him, and then when I finally started getting into the PT and TCW, it was just a steady stream of “oh no he’s hOT?” “oh no he’s sAD?” “oh no he’s nICE?!? REALLY FUCKING NICE AND A BIT OF A MESS HELP” and then I just totally latched on because he’s hypercompetent at literally everything and looks damn good doing it and boy do I have a thing for competence, charming as all hell and goes through so much and comes out strong despite the fact that fate hates his fucking guts and tries to destroy his life constantly and guys he tries so hard and he’s kind of messy sometimes and a bit of a dick and I love him all the more for it because he’s trying, none of that do-or-do-not shit, he is doing his damn best and deserves happiness and not Anakin tearing him apart.  SPEAKING OF SAND MAN.  Ugh, so I love Anakin to fucking death and that makes me REALLY MAD ABOUT IT BECAUSE HE MAKES EVERYONE ELSE I LIKE SAD.  So I love Anakin regardless because he’s not your typical protagonist.  He’s fucking brilliant, hot when he fights, is amazing at fighting and flying and building stuff and there’s that competence thing for me again, oh boy!  He’s funny and kind and he cares.  And somehow, this bitch manages to have the two most beautiful, amazing people in the galaxy in love with him and willing to do basically anything for him like the fuck?!?  Jealous much??!?!?!?!  I am!!!!  He’s so fucking bright and it’s impossible to look away.  He’s also a dorky, messy disaster who’s not good with people or feelings or emotions and he panics over stuff and doesn’t know self-control and is kinda really bad at his job a lot and pushes away the people who care about him and screws up literally all the fucking time and he always feels like he’s drowning and alone and I get to watch him crash and burn under the weight of it all.  Basically, minus the anger issues and the child murder and the murder in general, I kinda relate a lot to Anakin.  I feel like a self-hating mess who doesn’t know how to control my ow head and the world hates me a lot too.  I can project my mental issues onto him, enjoy the good parts of him, live vicariously through the things he does that I can’t like be loved by pretty people and be hot and athletic and smart, and then when he crashes I can side-eye and remember that at least someone’s doing worse than me lol.  So yea, I love this messy boi to death and he’s the one I get the best characterization reviews on, so I guess we have an understanding.  Leia I loved since as a kid.  I’d want to be her, brave, talented, smart, strong as hell and snarky to boot.  I realize that Leia fits another fave character archetype of mine: “Powerful young adult raised for greatness, did not ask for all the horrible shit that’s happened to them, highkey wants a break and for the bad guys to just roll over and die, is generally clever, hypercompetent, and 100% done with everyone else’s shit, overdramatic as all hell and enjoys insulting people”.  Her and Han were my first Star Wars ship and she just always made me happy seeing her kick names and take ass.  She’s gone through almost as much hell or maybe more so than Obi Wan, she also keeps getting back up and fighting, she deserved SO MUCH BETTER than what the Sequel Trilogy gave her and you may quote me on that.  She’s also gorgeous and I wanted to wear all of her clothes (bikini not included).  I also love her relationship with Luke and I am so goddam happy it is now canon that Leia Organa did Jedi training and can use a lightsaber!!!  She has a lightsaber!!!!!!!!!!  Ugh oof I love her.  Kanan fills the similar “mentor” archetype as Obi Wan does, but with a smidge of youth because he’s younger when he gets dropped into this role.  He’s more of a punk, more of a mess, and oof.  Basically I’ve said it a zillion times how Rebels resparked my love of Star Wars, but really, it was Kanan on the screen that did it.  It happened when the Rebels season 3 premiere eps ended up on the TV and I saw it and I thought in order 1. holy shit that Maul fucker’s actually alive? and 2. Oh no sad blind Jedi man!  He’s cool and mysterious and I want to know why he’s sad and who made him sad and also want to give him a hug!!!  He was my fave character all throughout Rebels and his training dynamic with Ezra, struggling to help this kid all while flying by the seat of his pants because he had Issues and no clue what he was doing and no support and ugh, he was smart and brave and I’m so sad he’s dead and yea.  Finn!!!!  Last but not least!!!!  He was my favorite character from The Force Awakens.  People have said it before, but he was just so new, a rebel Stormtrooper stolen and brainwashed at birth, finding the good guys and fighting to do the right thing!  Possibly Force Sensitive!  Super duper cute!!!  Funny and kind, dammit, when not many other people in the galaxy were!!!!!!!!  I was so, so sure Finn was gonna be a Jedi along with Rey at some point, that might have been my biggest letdown when I saw TLJ, but ugh I just loved his enthusiasm and his war within himself, ultimately loving his friends and trying to do what was right at the risk to his own safety, even though that was why he ran scared in the first place!!!!!  I shipped him with Rey and with Poe and now I am NOT above the post TROS Jedistormpilot shipping!!!!!  Finn was just always the most interesting part of the Sequel Trilogy for me and I personally feel like they could have done more with his character.

FAVE ACTOR/ACTRESS: Aight, so I try my best not to “stan” anyone famous because literally no one is perfect and everyone’s done something problematic at some point and if I dare say I like a famous figure, someone’s gonna find something about them and come after me all “OMG THIS PERSON DID/SAID/IS X YOU MONSTER GO DIE!!11!!1″.  In terms of performance, I think all the actors in Star Wars did a lovely job and I’m happy with all of them!  If I had to crush on any, it would probs be Ewan McGregor, John Boyega, or Diego Luna cuz, uh, they hot.  If I had to pick one I liked most, it would honestly probs be Carrie Fisher.  Maybe that’s just partially from missing her now that she’s gone, but I really admire her advocacy and transparence for mental health, and she just seemed like such a funny, kind, strong person.

FAVE PLANET: Aight, this is HARD and I refuse to only pick one planet!  Ok, gonna start off with Coruscant because an endless city planet made up of lights is amazingly gorgeous and it has a Jedi Temple stacked on top of a Sith Temple and is just so cool aaaaa.  Also love Felucia just for being so bright and colorful and pretty.  Mortis for being just as weirdly gorgeous and also Weird Force Shit.  Lothal for the beautiful mountains, the wolves, and the fucking lightspeed center of the planet passage what, Dathomir is delightfully creepy to look at, Crait is really cool with the salt and the red and the ice foxes, Kashyyyk because Wookiees and it’s pretty and I love their treehouses.  Basically if it makes me clap my dumb monkey hands and go “oooh pretty!”, I love it.  The more “not like Earth” it is, the more I love it.

FAVE SPECIES: Hmmmmm, this is a tough one…….  There’s just so many cool-looking species that we know so little about, ya know?  I wanna say either Togrutas or Wookiees.  Togrutas just because the character design is incredible and so fun to work with and also I love Ahsoka, and Wookiees because they have such an interesting culture and backstory and also I want to give Chewbacca a hug.

FAVE CONCEPT: Uhhh, not quite sure I get the question; you mean like just story concept in general?  If that’s it, I’m gonna have to go with just the whole concept of the Force and the Jedi in general.  I mean George, George my man, what the fuck?  How the hell did you come up with this?!?  Mystical psychic space wizards with magic abilities to connect with and use the sentient godlike life force that combined the entire galaxy together.  Oh and also they have COLORFUL GLOWING LASER SWORDS?!?!?  It’s honestly one of the most creative things I’ve seen in popular culture, and that makes me sad that Star Wars now seems to be trying to separate itself from what I think is its most interesting quality because “ugh not EVERYTHING should be about the Jedi guys!”, when like, y’all, without the Jedi, the entire SW universe is basically just another military scifi war story……  Just my opinion tho.

FAVE SHIP: Ok, since pairing was already up there, I assume this means actual ship?  Well, uh, gonna have to be square with y’all, I’m a bad Star Wars fan for this part; I’ve never been the one to memorize ship names and designs and know the exact make and model number of some fancy ship, I’m real bad at that lol.  I’ll say my favorite ship is the Ghost.  Hera flies it and the Rebels Fam lives on it and it’s super cool and it makes me happy!

FAVE WEAPON: LIGHTSABER.  LIGHTSABER LIGHTSABER.  LIGHTSABERLIGHTSABERLIGHTSABERLIGHTSABERLIGHTSABER.  Y’all, c’mon, what did you think I was gonna pick? xD  Lizard brain want glowy shiny colorful big stick that goes whoosh!

FAVE BACKGROUND EXTRA: Again, not entirely sure what this means, but do you mean fave background character?  If so, then it’s a tie between Wilrow Hood and his ice cream machine for the memes, that one clone in TCW who yeets a plate of toast at Cad Bane’s face, or that one background soldier who scoots between Han and Leia arguing in ESB and also Hera and Kanan arguing in Rebels (yes I do headcanon it’s the same guy lol)

FAVE MOMENT/SCENE: This one’s actually pretty easy.  Anakin dying in Luke’s arms in ROTJ, and then his ghost showing up to Luke later at the Ewok party.  I just care so ridiculously much about stupid Anakin and his stupid story and mistakes, and even before I was a prequels stan and had only seen the OT (and wasn’t a huge Vader fan, believe it or not), some part of me just felt so solemn, so fragile watching this, watching the giant monstrous machine falling apart as he fades away to reveal a weary, tired old human man, and it always made me wonder, what the hell happened to him to turn him into that thing?  Seeing that young, beautiful man, basically Luke’s age, showing up as a ghost later, just the fascination, the tender look he shared with Old Ben, just how young he was, that made it all the more mysterious and knowing what I do now, it’s just so much better because my poor, horrible Disaster Man finally did the right thing and he finally found peace and it’s just the only ending I could be happy for Anakin with,  And Luke, I always felt so bad for Luke, being so strong, so brave, finally getting his father back for like five damn minutes and then having to lose him again and just hurting for him but also knowing that it was gonna be okay because Luke had more family now, the ghosts, and Han and Leia and Chewie and R2 and 3PO and Lando and everyone.

FAVE KISS: Luke and Leia (HANG ON LET ME SPEAK) forehead kiss in The Last Jedi.  I know (this one) isn’t meant as romantic, and I know the question is probs about a romantic one and I know that it’s not even a real mouth kiss.  But.  That Luke and Leia scene was my favorite part of the entire movie.  Again, I was missing Carrie a lot, and ugh, after all these years, after not getting to interact the entire previous movie and not at all during this movie, the ONE scene with Carrie and Mark and the pure emotion of it all just knocked me out of my fucking seat.  You could see how connected they were as siblings, how much Leia had missed Luke, how much he had missed her and how sorry he was for leaving, sorry for Ben, sorry for having to leave her again now, Leia knowing Luke was about to die, and just, acceptance.  Love and acceptance.  It was just a final, tender kiss on the forehead, and it was perfect and yeah.  If I do have to pick a romantic lip smooch, it’s probably the Hanleia classic “scoundrel” kiss in Empire Strikes Back.  I still remember watching ESB the first time as a KID and being all eeeeeeee are they gonna– YES they kissed they kissed they kissed finally! and that’s enough for me.

FAVE FIGHT: Obi Wan and Anakin on Mustafar in Revenge of the Sith.  WIthout question.  It’s brilliantly and precisely choreographed to show the intricate nuances of the Obikin breakup in alllllll of its painful glory.  It breaks my heart every time I watch it because every time I watch it I still hope it’s gonna end differently.  That Anakin realizes he can’t kill Obi Wan and ditches Sidious and goes back with Obi Wan to save Padmé.  That Obi Wan realizes he can’t let Anakin die and saves him from burning and from Sidious and takes him back too.  That Obi Wan at least puts Anakin out of his misery which would be godawful painful, but would save him from the horrid life as Vader.  That while they’re fighting, a lava monster appears like in the concept art and Vader and Obi Wan have to put aside their differences and fight the thing and remember how much they mean to each other.  But ugh, this fight was beautifully choreographed and was originally supposed to be a MULTI-MINUTE SINGLE SHOT WHAT THE HELL???  Oooof Hayden and Ewan did such an amazing job and the whole thing just rips my heart out every time in the bestworst way possible

 FAVE LINE OF DIALOGUE: Now THIS is hard, I’m not the best at picking favorite lines.  Hmmm, this is HARD.  Let me think.  Gahhhh, it’s hard because I have so many lines I like and I can’t even just narrow down a couple!!!  Ultimately, it’s probably gonna be Yoda’s monologue from Empire Strikes Back: “Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter…”  Just that entire line saying how basically all of us are more than the sum of our parts, that everyone is their own sparkling light made of stardust, I loved it as a kid and I love it now. 

FAVE BOOK/COMIC: Answered here

FAVE HERO: Gonna go with Obi Wan!  I already rambled about why I love him, but y’all……. I love him.

FAVE VILLAIN: Anakin Skywalker/Darth McFucking Vader.  I loved him when he was a hero and the silly poor sad boy makes me sad when I see him as a villain all while being an overdramatic asshole and it just makes me wanna hit him with a newspaper for ruining his life and everyone else’s I love him.

FAVE OUTFIT: Answered here

FAVE CREATURE: I love Lothcats/Tookas!  I just heckin’ love cats and now there’s spACE KITTIES WITH SUPER FOOFY TAILS AND BIG EARS OMG Y’ALL I LOVE THEM I JUST REALLY DO AND I REALLY WANT ONE SO I CAN CUDDLE IT ;_;

WHEW.  That was all of the faves, thanks so much for asking me!!!  Sorry this took so long to do, this was kinda a hell week haha!