#jon favreau where you at

[jay-wasstuff]

Bo-Katan: *blames din's 'cult' and asks where he was during the purge*

Din and everyone:

#Ma'am he was a whole ass child probs in class learning maths then #the real question was WHERE WERE YOU?? #the mandalorian #jon favreau #dave filoni #pedro pascal #din djarin #bo katan kryze #star wars #we have watched clone wars sis and as far as im concerned it seemed you did more damage than Din and his 'cult'

[navigatorwrongway]

#mar posts #prehistoric planet spoilers #prehistoric planet #give me one i can be trusted to behave normally about baby hadrosaurs #jon favreau hey jon favreau listen to me i know they're real where have you hidden them #give me the baby hadrosaur and nobody has to get hurt

[mafaldaknows]

Instagram: ramseyart

“Baby, you’re so money, and you don’t even know it.”

X

#Spotify #ramseyart #instagram stories #so money #swingers #vince vaughn #jon favreau #baby #you’re so money #and you don’t even know it #life goes on #oliver tree #oliver #tree #small rabbit hole #what are you telling us tyler #i follow where my mind goes #msfalda could use a disco nap #tales from the charmiesphere

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

All I wanna do is go the distance

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

AN: Hey guys, I'm super excited to give you guys this next chapter 💕 I have big things planned hehe

I would reccommend reading this oneshot, but as I am not jon favreau, you don't have to read extra stuff I make to understand the main stuff. Enjoy 😈

Part 7 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

It had taken a few weeks for your head to get completely right again after the concussion. On some days you worried that you’d never get through the fluorescent infested hallways of the base without jamming your fists in your eyes ever again. Sometimes you’d catch Price staring at you with those concerned world weary eyes of his in the worst moments, when the headaches were screaming outwards, bursting through your skull. Though with enough time, and a lot of pain killers, the pain died down and dulled until you were completely back to normal.

It was a good thing too. For one, getting Price off your back while you were continuing to sneak around with König was a must, being under the microscope was only making the head trouble all the worse. And for another, which you were sometimes shocked to think was the secondary reason, you’d been going on more and more missions again as the 141 and KorTac got ever closer to tracking down Rousseau. Things were getting tense now, Ghost had been falling under a lot of pressure to perform and his temper was all over the place. Oftentimes you’d be the lucky one that had to chase him and calm him down.

In the months and missions after you’d come back you’d put away three of Rousseau’s men behind bars, including a very high level man that acted as his consigliere. Apparently he’d been worked on quite a bit since his capture. 141 weren’t privy to the intimate details of course, that was up to the CIA and KorTac, but as far as you’d all been told he’d given over a wealth of information on Rousseau’s location and even some limited blueprints of his hideout. 

Price had told you all in advance that intelligence would be confirming your next mission in a matter of days, so you should all stick close to the base. You were actually getting ready for an upcoming training exercise, Rousseau’s man revealing the details on his base meant that command were adamant that you did a run through first and came up with a successful strategy for the big boss’ take down. 

Luckily for you, because of the stay close order, that meant more time in your little airbnb paradise. The place was starting to feel like home. You were both etching yourselves into the apartment, carving your living narratives into it. 

You could identify marks where König had been clumsy and dropped things or scuffed his boots against the wall. There was a tiny stain on the couch from where you’d come and sat after a mission. Lastly, but not least of all, was the curtain that had been sneakily stitched up to the railing after you and König had accidentally pulled it off several of its hooks when you’d grabbed it a little too enthusiastically one night. And on top of it all was the lingering smell of the room spray you’d bought a few weeks into renting the place, preferring the smell of ‘violet rain’ over the faint notes of tobacco that clung to the walls from other renters.

Sometimes you and König even liked to tell each other ‘see you back at the house’. It was becoming all so humdrum to you both.

You smiled as you glanced over at König one night, ruminating over your little routine. The warmth of you could’ve lifted the apartment into the air. It just felt so good to know that you had something that was yours, something that wasn’t your job, something that wasn’t a material thing, you had a life with König. It was most apparent to you when you watched him, when he was free of his hood and his armour and plates and he lay on the bed on his phone, unburdened from rules and duty. He undressed himself from the myth and lay comfortably as König the man, lounging in his boxers and T-shirt like any boyfriend would act with their partner.

Though that night, his brows were knit together in concentration and his lips were pursed, he was adamant that he be left alone for a minute to do whatever it was that he was doing. It intrigued you because he was rarely so mysterious, normally he’d tell you if it was a work thing, but this time he just waved you off and told you not to be nosy. That being the case, you were watching him closely trying to see if he’d give you any hints or signs of what was so captivating on that screen of his.

“I can feel those doe eyes burning a hole into me,” he chuckled, finally gracing you with his attentions.

“Can you blame me? You’re being all suspicious,” you shrugged, tilting your head a little to see if he’d explain himself.

“I’m not being suspicious, I just asked for some quiet.”

“You said ‘Sneaky, I have something I need to do, but don’t look’ and then when I asked if it was work stuff you said no. That - is suspicious.”

“Well it gave you an excuse to imitate me, so that’s something isn’t it,” he scoffed. 

“Well, you know I do it so well,” you grinned, watching with delight as he rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you repeated, feeling as if you were copying him perfectly. 

“If you think that’s how I sound then I'm surprised you have any kind of attraction to me,” he laughed.

“Well some days are a struggle more than others, but-”

You weren’t given the chance to finish your sentence, he’d forgotten all about his phone and thrown it from his lap, launching himself at you faster than any RPG you’d seen. In a matter of seconds you were pinned to the bed and fighting for your life, tears pouring from your eyes as he tickled you and trapped you underneath his annoyingly unyielding legs. 

“What happened to the Sneaky that cried when I told them that I was bullied for my accent in school, hm? Now you’re making fun of me? I’ve got to say, that hurts me Sneak,” he said, an overdramatic fake upset lacing his tone. “You deserve every bit of this!”

You cried out and tried to protest, making a grab for his hands, but were merely shoved away when you made any kind of headway in distracting him. You wriggled and squirmed and screamed, but it was all for nothing. There was no way to make him stop until he wanted to.

“Kö- K…König, please!” you yelped, struggling to breathe. “Enough!”

You were beginning to feel like a struggling furnace as you endured his torture. Your lungs were burning from their failing efforts and you only screamed more as you grew tired of trying to fight back. The second he finally stopped his assault, you gasped in a huge lungful of air and laid back, groaning as you looked up at the blaring lights overhead and registered your sweaty forehead. 

“Remind me not to bully you again,” you sighed, finally finding your voice again.

“Mhmm. I tell you all the time, but you just always insist on being so mean to me regardless,” he chuckled, unhooking his legs from your sides.

König came to rest beside you and tucked a stray strand of hair back in its place. His eyes scanned over your heaving chest and he laughed as he watched you attempt to struggle into a sit. Nevertheless you managed to wobble yourself upwards on the shaky mattress and looked down at him, then over to his forgotten phone. 

“Will you do that again if I try to ask what you were doing so suspiciously on your phone?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” he smiled.

His new favourite line. The way he said it, it always had the undertones of a threat, but it was never said outright maliciously. König could affect his voice with so much masked intent it would have your head spinning sometimes trying to work out what he’d do next. Sometimes you’d get lost thinking about how long he’d practised that. The unfortunate people that had come across his path and challenged him, ending up with a far worse fate than just your tickling. Though you never liked to dwell on it for long. 

“What were you suspiciously doing on your phone, König?” you said, pulling yourself out of your thoughts before you got too sucked in. 

“Well, if you must know…” he trailed off and made a jump toward you, pretending he was going to attack again.

“No! No, no, no! Not again,” you cried out, leaping away from the bed. 

You made a mental note to thank Soap and Ghost one day, all their messing with you had made you quick on your feet. Instinctively, you threw your hands up ready to fight and narrowed your eyes, watching his every movement like a hawk. König remained on the bed though and sat up, laughing and shaking his head to himself as he picked up his phone again and scrolled through it. 

“Please, Sneaky, you really think I’m going to be threatened by those fists?” he tutted, not even looking at you as you remained in your defensive stance. “Put them away and come sit down.”

“These hands have killed people!” you defended.

“Yes, I know that, you’re a good soldier.”

“Exactly, so you should be threatened,” you retorted.

“If I was anyone else, sure. You’d never hurt me though,” he said, looking up from his phone with a smug grin. “I’m your boyfriend after all.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and immediately covered your face in your hands. Every little bit of you was drowning in the feeling of your thundering heart.

König didn’t much care for that particular title, he usually preferred to say partner, but he knew how it made you feel and he weaponised it as much as he possibly could. Knowing that he was all yours still scattered the butterflies in your stomach and you always felt like a little kid in the face of his teasing. You couldn’t help that him being officially yours still got you so excited.

“Are you ever going to stop using that against me?” you mumbled, finally coming to sit by him.

“No. I like watching you get flustered,” he chuckled. “It’s very cute.”

Before you could protest anymore though, he slung his arm around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss, softly releasing all the fight you had left with his teasing lips and tongue. You were locked together for a few moments and sighed contentedly when he broke away, pressing your head to his shoulder and feeling ready to sink down into the bed with him. 

Though it wasn’t time for that yet.

“Would you like me to show you what I’ve been working on?”

You opened your eyes and faced him again, watching his nervous smile grow. Seeing him look so sheepish re-sparked your curiosity and you nodded, ready to see what it was. He hurriedly entered his password and the screen flashed open, landing on the homepage screen with a shot of you both from one of your photobooth pictures from an impromptu date months before, before your concussion. Pictures he was adamant that he couldn’t let you keep because he had to protect his image, even if he was wearing his half mask at the time. As if he was somehow a much better secret keeper than you.

You smirked at the memory of all the playful bickering you’d done over those photos and shook your head, eyeing the screen again as König brought up his tabs. He clicked onto the latest one and it opened onto a confirmation email. It wasn’t what you’d expected, not that you were sure of what you even were expecting. As you read it you raised your brows and looked up at him, wondering what was happening. 

“This is a confirmation email for renting a hire car from some company in Austria,” you stated. 

“Some company has a name,” he retorted. 

“I’m not going to insult you by trying to pronounce that.”

“I see you’re restraining yourself now,” he laughed. “Well yes, it is a hire car confirmation for a cheap company in Vienna.”

“And you’re hiring a car in Vienna because?”

“Because, in a few months time, I’m taking you to Austria. Now, wait! Before you protest, I’ve thought it all out and you don’t need to worry about explaining any passport stamps to Price. I’ve found us flights to Slovakia and a train that can take us from Bucharest into Vienna, and from there I can take you around to see the country for a few days.”

He hastily explained himself and you smiled as you watched his hurried hand movements, his body in a flurry of motion. It was particularly fun to see him turn his hand into, what you figured, was a high speed train. He looked at you seriously as he finished, waiting in a suspended state of worry to see what you’d say. 

As if you’d disappoint him. 

“You sat and booked all that just for us?”

“Of course. I’ve really wanted to take you for a while now, so when you said you had time booked off and the higher ups indicated this mission will be coming to a close soon...I thought, this is the time. So what do you say? Will you come with me?”

“Obviously! I’m so excited, I can’t believe it. I’m getting to go on holiday with my Boyfriend,” you laughed, this time making yourself squeal. “It's gonna be so good! We’re gonna eat so much good food and see so many cool places and oh-  I wanna see those mountains you were talking about! Can we go?”

“We will see the mountains, yes. I’ve put time aside for that,” he laughed.

“You’ve planned the whole trip already?” you asked incredulously. 

“Sneaky I’ve been planning this for weeks,” he smiled. “I just finished the last arrangements there. I want to keep most of it a surprise, but…I actually have one thing on there that I need to ask you about before we go though.”

“Oh?”

He pursed his lips again and looked away before looking back to you. 

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out to Burgenland? To my mothers house.”

Your heart skipped a beat and somehow you managed to reach new levels of excitement. Meeting König’s mum meant a lot more to him that it did for most people. It came with a lot more meaning. Meeting König’s mum meant that he was accepting you as part of his family, it meant that he wanted you to know more of his annoyingly buried secrets. It meant that he’d have to tell you his name. 

It’s not like his own mother would call him König. 

It had been a sore subject for a little while. The cause of your only serious fights so far. You’d pushed to know a couple times, complaining that he wasn’t letting you in and that it was ridiculous that you were a couple and you wouldn’t even know what to call him  if anything should happen. Something could happen to him out in the field and all you’d know is a codename, he could be taken away from you and you’d never know who he was. 

Of course König argued that that was ridiculous and you knew more than almost anyone knew about him - excluding his mum of course. He claimed that his name was just a burden, that it was just something that would give people an excuse to take from you. Though you argued about that as well, if someone wanted to hurt you to get to him then they’d do it anyway. It didn’t matter if they believed you knew his true identity or not. 

The last time you’d gone almost hysterical because the whole thing was so silly to you. The little airbnb walls felt like they were going to go flying with all the verbal mortars being thrown, like you were going to be swept up like something from the wizard of Oz. You’d both bickered back and forth, forming a dark comedy sketch, two squeaky little cartoon characters that were on the verge of strangling each other as you both held your ground.

“Why does it matter if I know! You keep saying people will come for me, and that it's more dangerous to know you, but it's not that. I know it's not that! Otherwise you wouldn’t be seen with me, you wouldn’t have let me come this close. You just can’t face that all your walls would have to come down. You just don’t want to let me in.”

“It is dangerous to know who I am, how many times must I list the reasons? But you know what, fine, you’re right.You win! I’d love to let you in fully, but yes I am afraid of letting you close! Even though you have no idea how much you’ve taken already. I’ve given you more of me than anyone else has ever gotten, even while it’s been hard. You have no idea how hard all this is for me.”

“Hard for You? I’m in a relationship with someone that won’t tell me their name!”

 “Because it's the last thing I have to protect myself! If you leave me, what then? You could decide you want out of all this complication and find someone nice and simple and then where would I be? You’d have taken everything from me.”

“What am I taking from you? Knowing who you are is not taking anything from you König. Besides, I’m not leaving you. Why do you think I’m so hell bent on trying to find someone else when I spend all my time jeopardising my job just to be here with you? You think I like facing down Price knowing that he’d turn on me if he knew what I got up to in my spare time? I put the respect of someone that I deeply care about on the line, just so that I can be with you and you’re acting like I’m ready to run off at the first chance!”

“Because you’ve done it before!”

“That’s not fair and you know it.”

König may as well have turned and stuck a ten foot spear through your heart. You’d felt a tide of tears wash up in your eyes and you’d walked away from him then, not willing to let him see how much he’d hurt you. Not that that was an option. From his widened eyes alone, you knew that he’d known it was a mistake to dredge up old wounds, his sparkling blue irises dimming as he lost his self conviction. 

“Wait! Hold on, I’m sorry.”

König raced up to you and stopped you in your tracks. His strong arms wrapped around you fast and held you snugly against his chest as pathetic droplets of tears streaked your burning cheeks. You didn’t bother trying to free yourself from him. You just whimpered and clung to him as he shushed you and apologised for what he’d said, kissing your dampened face like it was nothing.

“I’m so sorry. What I just said was stupid. Will you please come sit with me for a moment… I have something I want to tell you.” 

A flare of anger and rebellion flared in you for a second. It was stamped out immediately, but just for a moment you wanted to storm off and tell him that if he wanted to keep you from knowing him then he’d done a great job - that that was it. Though, you couldn’t bring yourself to follow through. Even when you hated him at that moment, you couldn’t bear to see him upset again. You knew that you’d hurt him badly already that day you’d run from him in the park outside the base, you knew that you couldn’t bring yourself to do that again. 

“Ok,” you’d sniffled.

He’d sighed and taken you to the couch, sitting across from you after propping you up against your favourite fluffy pillow. You held onto it with one of your hands, losing yourself in its soft textures as you threaded your fingers through it. König watched you play with the loose strands for a second before looking you in the eyes, his face a perfect picture of remorse. 

“You didn’t really run away from me, that was silly of me to say.”

“I did run from you though, I ran from you that day you tried to explain yourself after the mission” you frowned, not able to help your crackling feebly. “You were  right, I can’t act like I haven’t given you reasons to be wary.”

“No. You didn’t leave me then though. You agreed to work through things and I suppose that’s what we’ve been doing…with mixed results,” he said, laughing dryly. “You haven’t really given me reason to be like this. This is what has happened after years of keeping people out and I suppose…I’m just having a hard time adjusting to what it feels like to let someone in.”

“I know. I know that really,” you sighed. “It's just hard sometimes because sometimes it feels like things are as they should be, like everything we have is so normal. Then I snap back to reality and there’s all this stuff with work where we have to pretend to hate each other and then we have missions that don’t line up and we don’t get to speak, like not even a phone call a lot of the time. Then there’s this intrusive voice I have over it all saying- well saying ‘you don’t even know his name, what is it we really even have together’ and I know its ridiculous and we care about each other and I should ignore it all-”

“It’s not ridiculous,” König soothed. “I feel the strain of these things too.”

He leaned forward then and grabbed your hands, making you jump as you were taken out of worrying at the pillow. His calloused fingers rubbed against yours and his warm grip kept you grounded into reality. The scars that scraped up the backs of his arms jumped up at you in the warmth of the yellow lights, his whole body a patchwork of battered skin. You traced your eyes from his rough hands and arms, up to his bobbing adam's apple and to the depths of his ocean eyes and worried face.

König’s jaw was tensed and he breathed as he worked up to what he was going to say. Your own breath was held then, lungs burning as you waited for him to speak.

“Other people have let me down in the past. My mother moved us to Germany for a manipulative piece of shit that hated me and looked to rid himself of me at every opportunity. I grew up with few friends, in a country that wasn’t mine, and fought so hard for so long that I didn’t know how to be vulnerable. I met a woman after I was forced to join the army that told me I was a hollow shell of a man, and that no one should have to be sentenced to dealing with me…There’s times I’ve agreed with her too, I’ve moved through life feeling like half a person some days. Then I met you. None of what I’ve told you is any excuse to treat you badly, but sometimes I’m so set in my distrust that I can’t let myself cross the lines I need to be able to get to where you are….And- and for you…I’m working on crossing those lines, because you’re the only person I’d ever want to give myself to, but for now its a slow process. You’ve seen my full face, we’ve made love and I have given you almost everything that I can give you for right now. All of this is to say…well - to ask - if you would give me a little more time and allow me to keep working on things with you.”

Listening to him then, as his voice crackled and wavered with emotion, was so very difficult. He kept a hold of your hands the whole time, his fingers shaking as he went on. His whole body looked ready to crumble as he explained himself.

Though before he could be brought down by everything you leaned over and held him, winding your arms around him as tightly as they would go. You hugged him close for the rest of the night and whispered to each other in the darkness when you went to bed, giving your affirmations, like a secret promise, that everything would be ok. 

As you thought back to that night, your body shook with an icy cold shock of frisson. You didn’t want to go through that again. 

“I would love to meet your mum, König,” you said softly, swallowing as you tried to tactfully avoid another horrific argument. “Does this mean…that you’ll tell me your name soon?”

He smiled knowingly at you and nodded, stroking the warm apple of your cheeks fondly. 

“I will tell you sometime soon, yes,” he confirmed, speaking warmly.

You felt a beaming smile shine brightly over your face and jumped on König, feeling full force  of excitement as things seemed to be heading in a good direction. Everything was lining up. Your mission would be done soon, you and König wouldn’t have to worry about sneaking around anymore because the taskforce would have some downtime until you were called upon again for some other earth shattering mission. After that you were going to finally learn his name. 

You sighed. It was almost too good to be true. 

“You just gotta promise me one thing,” you said, shifting your tone seriously. 

“What?” he asked, breaking away from your hug so that he could look at you properly. 

“If it’s something ridiculous you have to prepare me in advance.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned, falling comically backwards onto the couch. 

“I’m being serious,” you laughed. “If it’s something crazy like Wolfgang or Ferdinand I need to be prepared!”

“Do you really think that that’s what Austrian people are called?” he giggled.

“I have no idea! This is what I’ve been saying, I could see your passport in a few months time and could be having to fight myself not to laugh!”

“You would really laugh at my name if you thought it was silly?” he snorted. 

“All I can promise that I’ll try not to,” you grinned, crossing your hands over your heart while he stared back at you with a displeased glare. “All I’m saying is that if I see something mad I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

He rolled his eyes again and sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up into the air. 

“I can’t believe I’m being lectured on silly names by someone called ‘Sneaky’.”

“Hey!”

-☠️- 

When Price called you all in the next day, nothing could’ve prepared you for the shitstorm that was going to ensue. Though you were feeling the full force of it as you stood in the darkened labyrinth of the warehouse that had been set up to emulate Rousseau’s hideout. The 141 and KorTac had been told to find the best way to clear the base and get to Rousseau, but the problem was that you were taking too long and being overwhelmed by too many of Price’s fake men. There were just so many rooms that were connected to other rooms and it meant that a lot of men could get by each other undetected. It was a nightmare.

You’d run through the exercise around eight times already and the more that Price was making you reset, the more tension was being put on the team. It was only a matter of time till someone snapped. Although, given their quick temper and worn down attitude in the last few months, you were sure of who that person was going to be the entire time. 

In the latest reset, you stood next to one of the floppy wooden walls and bit your tongue, watching on with fear as Ghost marched up to König and got in his face. They were almost mask to mask, eye to eye as Ghost took what little gap there was between them and cinched it tight. You felt every little notch in the wood then, backing yourself into it just so that you could force yourself not to get yourself in trouble by intervening.

“Stop fucking around you useless pile of shitting cloth!”

ouch.

“You’re blaming me for the reset?” König scoffed, squaring up his shoulders. “If you would stop lagging through the hallways and would get them cleared properly, then we might be able to get through one of these attempts successfully, Lieutenant.” 

“It was your bright idea to split off with Soap and Gaz and leave us with Horangi. So far it’s been nothing but problems with you and your team rushing and getting hasty and now I’m done. We’re doing it my way again. Slow and methodical. Like it or lump it, king cunt.”

“Problems aren’t from me going too fast, they’re occurring because your team isn't clearing the halls properly, Ghost. I need Soap because Fender is out of the country, I need someone to blow the doors so I can breach plus the extra cover. Your idea failed five times already, why don’t we try to execute mine properly, hm?”

“I’ll fucking show you an execution, König!”

Ghost rammed König and sent him back peddling into the wall you were leaning against with heavy thud. You were sent flying forward as the wood bounced and watched as it rattled with the men’s efforts to take each other down.

It was like watching two stags lock horns, they were grabbing onto each other furiously and neither man seemed to want to let the other go. König swung his fist and Ghost dodged. Ghost tried to knock König unbalanced with a kick, and only succeeded in almost sticking his boot through the cheap chipboard.  

The rest of you watched on helplessly. There was very little anyone of you could do to pull the two titans off of each other -  Not if you didn’t want to get taken out of action in the process. 

“Right! That’s enough boys!” 

Price’s voice echoed through the warehouse, powerful and commanding as it sailed through the air like a brick. It smashed through the two fighters and in a matter of seconds König and Ghost were standing to attention, looking up at Price from his spot on the balcony. The blue light of the warehouse shone starkly against the white in Ghost’s mask, but it failed to stick on the inky black of König’s hood. 

“I appreciate that its been a long day gentlemen, but that doesn’t mean you get the luxury of turning into little school boys that can’t contain their fucking tantrums!” Price bellowed, continuing to reset the temperature. “König, stop pushing so hard when the others are still trying to clear the rooms on the left side. Ghost, work faster and spread your team out. Reset and do it again!”

The Captain’s word was final. Even at the height he stood, illuminated by a few bulbs that flickered like burnt orange like cigarettes, you saw that he was in no mood to be argued with. He’d stood watch for all of the attempts and with every one that failed he grew more and more dissatisfied as your joint teams disintegrated into in-fighting. 

Well, that wasn’t going to be a problem on this attempt. Not unless anyone was in the mood to invoke Price’s wrath. 

All you marched off without another word, dragging your feet as you made your way back to the start point. Ghost was glaring so hard at König it seemed like all of you were staying purposefully clear of his path; attempting to avoid the crossfire. Soap and Gaz grunted a few words of annoyance toward each other on the way, but luckily you all made it in one piece.

A few tense moments proceeded to ebb slowly by. The clatter of doors and scrape of fallen soldiers and obstacles being reset was echoing throughout the building, the heavy breaths of men around you intermingled and all too eerily you began to feel like you were in the belly of a beast. It certainly appeared that way to your eyes, you couldn’t see much through the darkness. You’d have to position your night vision down again. 

In the briefing before training, when you’d had the blueprints and locations revealed to you, you’d been told that your guys would be able to cut the power beforehand. They were sending your two teams in while Price waited with another team on standby. That way if Rousseau tried to make a clever escape, Price would be there to close in on him while you rid his headquarters of his followers.

All of it was easier said than done though apparently.

“If we fuck this up again I’m going home. Fuck the dessertion charges, prison’s better than this,” Gaz muttered.

“If we fuck this up again,” Ghost growled in disbelief. “You mean If your team fuck it up, Garrick.”

“Aw, putting the blame on us, LT?” Soap chuckled. “You’re so sweet. Maybe it's me just looking to spend a little more time with you.”

His laugh still held a little humour in it, even for all the torture you’d all been through. Although he knew for a fact that he had nothing to do with it. It was his big lumbering steam train of a teammate that couldn’t be let off so easily. 

It was true what Price said, he had been moving too quickly. König was frustrated. Somehow, despite not even being able to see him most of the time, and at times just barely through the green haze of your goggles, you could tell he was finally feeling the strain of working with your team. He was getting antsy and forceful, trying to power through so that he could escape the stifling atmosphere that the other men created for him.

You wanted to tell him he’d only make it worse by prolonging the day. Though it wouldn’t have been a good idea to speak to him then - not with Ghost feeling the way he was. 

“If we spend any more time down here you’ll all be wishing for a nice cosy jail cell by the time I’m done,” Ghost spat. 

You flickered your eyes over to König and held your breath. He looked like he desperately wanted to make a comment on the situation, his eyes were narrowing in a familiar way, the kind of look he got when he was about to fight a point. You silently begged him to stand down and cast a wary glance over at Horangi, hoping he’d stop his friend from doing anything dumb.

Though in the end it didn’t matter. Price interjected before König could air his thoughts, entering the scene like a benevolent god shouting from above. 

“Alright. Begin again in 5…4…3…2…and…”

The warehouse descended into complete darkness, all lights were off and it was just you and your two teams, huddled together in the lonely gloom. Ghost silently gestured for you all to get moving and with the rehearsed speed of a broadway play, you filed into two teams and braced as Soap got the first charge ready. 

You drew in a breath and felt your heart thudding in your chest, it made you tighten your grip on your gun as every booming beat cracked out like thunder. You swallowed and scanned your eyes through the green fog, watching bleary eyed as Soap set the first charge. You looked away and hunched your shoulders, already tensing for the first explosion. 

The door broke away and the charge sounded off with a dull boom, soon enough your teams were ‘firing’ on your fake enemy with your fake rounds. The guns clacked and clicked in a foreign kind of way and instead of screaming or disappearing in a spray they took a moment to notice the hits and would drop to the ground like seasoned actors. 

Even despite that all though, the adrenaline felt all too real. The soldiers were growing smarter smarter, even hindered by the darkness,they had begun to forsee your oncoming attacks and fought back twice as hard as before now that they'd seen your strategy a few times. It was taking longer and longer to clear the first room. 

Nevertheless, determined to stay in the exercise and take it through to its bitter end. You kept down behind Ghost and shot out at the hostiles, doing your duty and hoping it would be enough. Luckily for you the men fell after trading a couple rounds of fire.

“Horangi, stay on me. Sneak when I say the word I want you to move up ahead to the first room on the left. Horangi and I will cover you while you clear it and block the entrance on the otherside,” Ghost ordered. 

“Copy that,” you responded, also hearing Horangi sound off similarly. 

König had moved up already, but rather than have Soap and Gaz blow the next door, they were all taking cover and helping your team with the oncoming flood of men. Even as two separate teams you were now united in a common purpose - to improve the strategy and ensure you’d never be put through the exercise again. 

Most of you hated having to do those sessions, rehearsing for the main event. After All It’s not like you can account for everything that can happen when the real mission goes live. Its not like the men would be expecting you like the hapless new recruits, that was only natural as you reset the mission for the ninth time in a row.

With that in mind, you kept your gun in your hands like it was superglued to you and marched on, following through with Ghost’s plan as he directed you forward. You gulped and sprinted toward the room, taking cover behind the door and angling your head so that you could spot the men that were spraying heavy fire just inches from where you stood. You blinked and took a breath, reminding yourself that you had the edge. You had night vision. 

In a flash you whirled around and took out one of the men closest to you, diving behind a desk before anyone else could get to you. Already marking out your next target, you were relieved when you spotted Ghost in your peripheral and shot up.

“Support pillar, LT!” you shouted, marking out your ‘kill’. 

Ghost acknowledged you and directed his gun toward the other two, and soon enough you were standing in an empty room, listening to the fire outside. Though you weren’t done, you hustled over to the entrance on the other side and tipped a desk over the doorway, making entry very difficult. Then seconds later another explosion went off and Ghost signalled for you to follow him, covering the rear of team König. 

“On me, team!”

Horangi and you followed Ghost as closely as possible, heeding his every command as you cleared the rest of the rooms with slow and steady precision. König battered down every door with Soap’s help and with he and Gaz ploughing forward, you were able to keep watch of the rear as more men crawled out of the woodwork in an attempt to surprise you. 

Even with the fake ammo your blood was pumping around your body like white water rapids and your breathing came fast and heavy. The clack of the guns and the sound of feet scrabbling against the crumbly warehouse floors were echoing around your head and before long you were beginning to feel wired, could feel your body shake as you grew ever closer to the end. This was it. An escape from the labyrinth and the endless blurry green of the night vision goggles.

“Ready?” König asked, standing prone at the last door.

Ghost and Horangi took out a couple of stragglers, and once they were down and static silence was ringing all around you, König was given the go ahead.

“One last door and then we’re home free, Gazzy,” Soap grinned, setting the door to blow. 

“Yeah yeah, just blow the door, Soap,” Ghost growled.

The last breach felt strong enough to shake the ground you were standing on. Though you’d concede that by the time the charge went off, you were starting to shiver a little. You were full of anticipation, ready to sit down and get some rest before the actual mission. A good night’s sleep was within your grasp. 

Once that door swung out, you’d realised that you’d never been so relieved to see a potential hostage. 

The new recruit made a mighty effort to mimic Rousseau, he tried to go down fighting and raised his gun at you all. Though with six people on him he didn’t have a chance. All of you shrank back from his shots while he attempted to flee, though when you noticed that the recruits back was turning to run, you took your chance and barrelled toward him. 

With every ounce of strength that was left in your body you tackled the man to the ground, landing softly on his thick padding - something Rousseau definitely wouldn’t have when it came time to dive on him. Even with your body protesting, exacerbated limbs crying out for a break, you wrestled his gun from his hands and pinned them to the ground. Fake Rousseau had nowhere to go after that, he was stuck below your body even as you heaved out heavy breaths and soon was surrounded by the rest of your team.

At long last it was game over. 

“Alright, very good team,” Price’s voice called, “You can take off the night vision and we’ll turn the lights up.”

You were all too eager to follow Price’s command. You whipped the goggles up and looked around in the sheer darkness for a moment until the blue lights faded on and were then chased up by the stark flicker of the overhead lights. 

Everyone was blinking hard, adjusting to the brilliance and grimacing as you all looked around the grotty old warehouse with new eyes. When it was set up with low lighting there was something very intimidating about the training area, though now that you looked at it in the new light you couldn’t help but compare it to waking up the morning after a one night stand. 

The chip boards looked floppy and pathetic and the huge towering walls beyond your little simulated maze were covered in warning signs and caution notices. The mirage had cleared, and finally you could look up at Price properly, settling your strained eyes on his terse expression.

“Much better. That’s the sort of performance I expect from you lot, and that’s what I want when we launch tomorrow. Get yourselves cleaned up and get ready to meet in the hanger for oh-four hundred. You’re all dismissed.”

-☠️- 

“Fucking Training exercises.”

You lumbered behind Ghost and made your way to the bathrooms, getting ready to wash up with the rest of the team, hearing bed calling out to you sweetly before your early start. Soap and Gaz were unsuaully quiet, meanwhile König and Horangi were their usual type of quiet. Ghost wasn’t satisfied with that though, he was muttering to himself and stomping down the hallway like a man about to fly himself off to Rousseau and end the mission himself.

“At least it’s over now,” you sighed. 

“Would’ve been over a long time ago if we hadn’t started improvising with the hired help,” Ghost groused.

“How many times, Ghost. We tried your plan and we failed, we worked mine out and we passed,” König growled. “Doesn’t matter how many times you whine about it, the plan worked and that’s all that matters.”

“Is it? Is that all that matters?”

“Yes. We all wanted out and now we’re out. Job done,” König groaned. “What else is there to bitch about?”

“It’s not bitching when I have legitimate concerns about letting a private contractor shit all over my team’s dynamic and split us up!”

“What dynamic is that? The one where you get them all killed?”

Ghost flew toward König again, except this time none of you were allowing it. You, Gaz and Soap leapt toward your Lieutenant while Horangi acted as a barrier, keeping a steady hand on König’s flaring chest. All of you struggled as Ghost threatened to explode, but in a matter of seconds he calmed enough to see he wasn’t going to be allowed his revenge and broke away, grumbling that he’d leave it. 

König watched the exchange between you all and laughed to himself, the little titter escaping the thick fabric of his hood even as he tried to keep it soft. You glared over at him, not appreciating his antagonising just as you’d managed to get a grip of Ghost, though he rolled his eyes at you and walked off. 

Only when he was around the corner did you finally feel it was fit to let Ghost have it.

“What the fuck was that, LT?”

“What do you mean what the fuck was that?” he growled.

The way Ghost looked at you, the way his eyes glinted like he was settling on a new target, normally would’ve had you crumbling like brittle harling in a storm but you were resolute in your mission. You straightened your shoulders and walked up to him, not letting the disappointment fade from your face. 

In your periphery, you caught your fellow teammates giving you a shared look of fear. Soap and Gaz more than made up for what you lacked in that moment, but you ignored them keeping your mind focused completely on Ghost. 

“Price cleared the op to run just as we practised it there, just as it was successfully run and you want to have a go at König because he happened to make a valid suggestion?”

“I’m not having a go, I’m pissed that we’re taking orders from paid guns that shouldn’t even be here in the first place! This was supposed to be our mission, Price assembled our taskforce back together all to take down Rousseau and what happens? The government get involved with KorTac and suddenly we have to play nice with money grubbing slime balls. It’s all not right, Sneaky, and I won’t sit by and take it!”

“It might not be right, but it's the situation we’re in. You might not like König, and things have been…not ideal with all thats happened, but like it or not he made a good call and Price recognised it for what it was.”

Ghost grunted and was about to fire back another load of verbal ammunition, though Soap interjected before he could say anything else.

“Sneak’s right, Ghost. If they’re telling you to let the König thing go, then let it go. Sneak has the most right out of anyone to be pissed about König calling the shots, and they’re not. Fuck sake, Ghost, even Price hates the man. If Price likes his plan, then its a good plan.”

You raised your brows, surprised at seeing Soap opposing Ghost for once. He walked over to you and stood shoulder to shoulder, holding the giant back as he teetered on the verge of a rampage. The warmth of Soap brought a calm to your bones and now that you knew you had someone else supporting you, you let out a breath you’d barely been aware of holding. 

You so rarely had to butt heads with your Lieutenant, you’d never get used to the feeling. Your bones felt like they were rattling with the energy it required.

“You don’t have to worry about the team dynamic, Ghost,” you continued, hoping to expel the last of his anger. “In fact arguing with König is more of an issue than anything that he or any of KorTac can do. We get through this mission and take down Rousseau, then KorTac will leave and we can get back to our jobs until the 141 is called on again. If we fuck this up then we’ll be dealing with losses and we’ll have to keep working with them. We just need to get through this and its done…ok?”

Ghost sighed and cast his eyes down to the floor. Silence reigned for a few beats, but eventually he looked back up and eyed you and Soap and Gaz who’d moved to your other side. The blue in his darkened irises could’ve been swamp water with the way they’d been tainted with frustration. Though even with all of his anger at the situation, he had visibly sagged as he recognised he was looking at things wrong.

“You’re right,” he grunted, rubbing his head and furling up his mask. “I’ll go apologise and see if I can’t get through the rest of our time together without murdering the bastard. Like you say, Sneak - not long till he fucks off.”

With that he left to go slink down the hall and catch König, still grumbling to himself even as he retreated. You and the rest of 141 laughed as he turned the corner and eyed each other, smiles slowly spreading across your mouths as if you’d just turned up to a mad hatters tea party. A moment of euphoria shared as you thanked your lucky stars that Ghost didn’t go Godzilla on all of you before he carried on with murdering König just as he’d said.

Though a small part of you still worried for your boyfriend. You’d winced a little when Ghost insulted him, but on the other side of the coin, you realised that with the mission coming to a close soon you’d be able to stop the obligatory concerns that came with König being on base. Soon you could carry on with your illicit affair and not worry one bit that Price would be any the wiser. What you can’t see can’t hurt you, right?

“Thought for sure ma neck was gonna get snapped there,” Soap chuckled.

“I know, I was picturing being the next skull he wore,” Gaz laughed, his nervousness expelled in a low rasp. “Fuck, Sneak. Next time you want to go on a crusade, give us a bit of warning.”

“I’d have loved to have given myself warning,” you snorted, still in disbelief you’d stood up to Ghost. “It just came out of me out of nowhere. If anyone was getting scalped there, it was gonna be me.”

“Well…at the very least, thank jesus,” Soap smirked, “Ghost listened rather than wringing yer little brass neck. But you know what, Sneaky? Next time you decide to have a brave moment like that, leave us the fuck out of it!”

“Yeah, let us get out of the blast radius first, and then go at him,” Gaz laughed, slapping your shoulder. 

With that they both walked off to the showers together and you rolled your eyes, following after them so that you weren’t hanging around the hallway by yourself. Your weary boots slapped against the floors and you continued to joke as you rounded the corner, feeling at ease as you got your mind focused on getting ready for the mission and the calm that would ensue after its completion. 

When you got to the changing room though, you frowned when you saw König’s things scattered. Normally he wasn’t one for throwing things around, he was usually quite careful to pile things up. However his shirt was sprawled on the ground and his trousers were hung over the benches like a set of bowlegs straddling a horse. Most unsettling of all was when you’d glanced down and saw the wooden bird you’d given him months before laying on the floor just under his upturned pockets. 

“Huh, big man must’ve been in a hurry to shower,” Soap noted.

“Probably wanted to try and hurry to avoid Ghost,” Gaz snorted. “Not that I can blame him, I’d hide from the LT too if I knew he was after me.”

You laughed along with the guys because it seemed like the thing to do, but the smile on your face dropped instantly afterward. Something wasn’t right. You gulped and looked over the mess of his clothes one last time and bit your lip, barely feeling the harsh scrape of your canine against your soft flesh. 

“You gonna wash up, Sneak?” Gaz asked, elbowing you out of your thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You’re standing there like a spare prick, Sneaky,” Soap laughed. “You gonna shower? Or are you cooking up a little pre-mission prank?”

“Don’t encourage that, Soap,” Gaz laughed. “We need to put all that to rest. Like Ghost said, this is the last time we have to see the guy. Let’s just get past it and pray we don’t ever work with KorTac again.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you said, stopping Soap in his tracks just as he picked up the hem of König’s shirt. “I agree with Gaz, let’s leave it, alright? I’m just gonna see where Ghost got to first then I’ll go shower. His stuff’s not here, so he must’ve gone off and I figure I should make sure he got away from König in one piece.”

“Ghost getting away from König?” Gaz snorted. “Think I’d worry more for the other way around…if I gave a shit about König that is.”

You gave another little weak laugh and walked off without anything else to say. You didn’t have anything else in the chamber. Your mind was too busy reeling and wondering where Ghost got to and why König’s stuff was laid out everywhere and all the ways you could combine those pieces of information into horrible conclusions.

You walked through the doorway to the opposite corridor and mindlessly carried yourself forward while your skin burned too hot and your stomach tightened into tiny knots. 

Did they have an argument? Did Ghost notice something about König’s things that gave you both away? Had he seen the bird and known it was yours? If so, how? You’d never shown anyone else the bird that you could remember, but then you cursed to yourself as you remembered your less than sound mental state and struggled to try and remember if you possibly had told the guys or shown them the bird at any point. 

Why did König have to carry it around with him? Why couldn’t he have left it in his room on base or secreted it away somewhere safe?

Were you being crazy? You reasoned you were being crazy. Maybe he really had just left his things in a hurry. Perhaps he did just want to get through his-

You felt your blood run cold when you heard a low growl tear you from your thoughts and speak your name, your real name.  

“You look lost.”

You glanced up after trailing your eyes along the gloomy grey floor and shivered as you finally noticed Ghost towering above you, casting a mighty shadow. He had his eyes fixed on you like a shark, cold and deadly as he surveyed your trembling form. He was glaring hot pits into your skin and from that moment on you had absolutely no doubt that he was onto you. 

He’d never looked at you like that in his entire time leading you. He looked furious, distressed, agitated, so many emotions were etched those glaring dark eyes of his and you were losing track trying to figure out how to best appeal to him. 

“I was trying to find you,” you murmured, barely speaking above a whisper. 

“Why would you be doing that then, ay?” he gritted out, walking toward you cornering you into a wall.

His boots sounded against the floor like canons. With the way he was acting, you worried he’d shove you and crush you underneath them. Though maybe that would be kinder than the fate he had in store for you…

“You.. you- uh, tossed König’s things didn’t you?” you whimpered.

“I did.”

“Why?” you breathed, feeling your eyes welling with tears before you could even attempt to think of calming yourself. 

“I’ll admit I got angry at the thought of having to go crawling and apologising to him and I lost it. I knocked his things off the bench. It went everywhere and shit went scattering out his pockets, y’know he left his wallet in his trousers, stupid cunt. Shouldn’t even have personal shit on a training exercise, but I suppose that’s what happens when you hire a bunch of undisciplined mercs… you know what I happened to see when I spotted his wallet though? You have any guesses, Sneak?”

You gulped and all of a sudden, it became all too clear to you exactly how Ghost had caught you out. 

“The photos,” you whispered.

“That’s right,” Ghost growled, “I saw the fucking photos of you two poking out of it.”

Next part here

#König #König x reader #konig x reader #konig #könig fanfiction #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare fanfiction #mw2

[firstofficerwiggles]

Jon Favreau saying Din Djarin was never meant to be Star Wars Aragorn is dumb on many levels, but primarily because no one saw him as Aragorn!

Aragorn was born to be a king and knew this his entire life. He struggled with it, rebelled against it, and then finally realized it was his destiny. No one in Star Wars is an Aragorn.

Din Djarin was never born to be a king, and he never considered that he would be one. If Din is anyone, he is King Arthur, a person who performed an extraordinary task to win a powerful sword.

The idea that the story was not setting Din up to be a leader is ridiculous, though, because in all three seasons and The Book of Boba Fett, we see Din as an effective leader. In several episodes and across the story arc, Din brings people together to fight and win unlikely battles. He manages to diplomatically get different groups to work together. He comes up with the plans that will take advantage of everyone's best skills. He puts himself in positions of extreme vulnerability because he knows it's what they need to win. He also manages to pull off some incredible moves of his own that just make everyone go. "Wow! That dude is awesome!" Din does all this while still being respectful and kind to the point where at the end of the battle, the people in the group are willing to follow him anywhere if he asks.

Then you have the audacity to sit there and tell me you didn't create a king.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #a bit of a rant #that article just made me mad

[gffa]

Hi Lumi. This year I’ve watched The Clone Wars, Rebels, Mandalorian, Book of Boba Fett, and Tales of the Jedi and I’m watching Ahsoka as episodes are released. But I feel like I’m missing some context as to why people are wary of Filoni. What things should I know so I’m caught up, so to speak, in the fandom discussions?

Hi! That's a lot of Star Wars to watch in a year, I hope you're having fun with it all! And I will gently remind everyone that Filoni is not the be-all-end-all of Star Wars creators--Henry Gilroy was there for TCW and Rebels, too. George Lucas was holding writers' meetings years after the show started (at least into 2010!). The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett are far more Jon Favreau's shows. The Bad Batch is Brad Rau and Jennifer Corbett. Resistance was developed by him, but was run by other producers. It's just that Filoni tends to get the most camera time and has become the face of Star Wars creators. That said, the issue with Filoni is kind of two-pronged, though, they overlap. 1. He's done a lot of interviews where he's said a lot of anti-Jedi things that have drifted from reasonable critiques in the beginning to eventually "Qui-Gon Jinn was the only true Jedi. [blatantly wrong citations]" This has put a lot of people off him as a creator, because we love the Jedi Order that Lucas talks about and established, which Filoni has actively contradicted over the years, despite being promoted as someone who follows Lucas' themes. And it's hard not to be aware of his interviews when watching his shows and it's hard to enjoy shows that do your faves dirty, you know? 2. His writing has become weaker over the years for a lot of us--Rebels is a show most of us love and found to be incredible. Many of us really love The Clone Wars, which he was heavily involved in/was probably the central voice after Lucas started phasing out. But his biggest story told over the course of those series--basically, the story of Mandalore's history and fall to the Empire--has been extremely thin for a lot of us. And a lot of us get frustrated at his inability to be objective when it comes to Ahsoka's character, that we love her as a character very much, but it hasn't felt like Filoni really knows what to do with her character arc and yet almost everything he writes is centered around her. His final season of The Clone Wars? Gave her the walkabout arc and the Siege of Mandalore arc, both of which often did not hold up well under scrutiny. His episode of The Book of Boba Fett? I actually really loved it, but it absolutely just stopped the pacing of that show to focus a lot on her. More on Luke, but he couldn't resist putting her in there, either. Tales of the Jedi was half devoted to Ahsoka and so much of it wasn't even about her time as a Jedi! We're frustrated because he doesn't set things up well anymore--Morgan Elsbeth is a Nightsister?? Why wasn't that established in The Mandalorian instead of pulling out randomly in Ahsoka? Why does Sabine Wren suddenly so badly want Jedi training, when they barely even had a conversation in Rebels?? There's a lot of good that Filoni has given to Star Wars, I think he genuinely cares about the Force and what it means--he's very consistent on how it's not easy and how it takes discipline and control, that he has been consistent on how anger and fear are paths to the dark side, even his episode of TBOBF had Ahsoka saying, yeah, attachment is a path to the dark side, because the Jedi mean "attachment" in a more Buddhist-aligned way. A lot of his writing for the character of Ahsoka is actually pretty good, like I've been enjoying her being a prickly, traumatized hot mess in the show! It's just that I kind of hate all the interviews he gives and I think he's a lot less objective than a lot of fans and media coverage that would hold him up as a perfect writer/interviewee about all things Star Wars, and it all comes together to make him kind of a hot-button topic.

So, a lot of people LOVE Filoni's work, a lot of people are frustrated by it, a lot of people are casually fine about it, a lot of people HATE Filoni's work and it can be a fun mix of any of the above or even other issues that come up. (And that's all fine! I have my views on Filoni's work, but it's fine if others hate it more than I do or love it more than I do, there's room for us all, all of it is valid.)

But I think if you want to understand some of the roots of this corner of fandom's frustration, two (admittedly long as heck) homework assignment reads would be:

- My own rebuttal to Dave's behind the scenes Mandalorian Gallery talk (this is jokingly referred to as "Davegate" because I refused to take it too seriously) - @david-talks-sw's collection of comparisons between Lucas' commentary on the Jedi and Filoni's commentary on the Jedi

This response itself is more focused on laying out the problems a lot of people have with Filoni's writing, but also honestly I still have my giant collection of Jedi source material citations that quotes his commentary, I still bring up Filoni's quotes in current meta a lot, I still talk positively about the things I enjoy from his shows, so overall there's equal amounts of both praise and criticism here. So, as short as I can make it (which isn't very, shut up, I know! XD), that's basically what people mean when they say they're wary of Filoni.

#star wars #dave filoni #meta

[pascallatte]

Mando's Lover?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: The Mandalorian interview but why are you included? (read to find out 😉)

Date: August 2019

Taglist: @benonlinear, @t-stark35, @heyitsme-2, @elleeeee21, @holmesstrange, @tagakalat, @flyestvenustrap, @oldermenaremyreligion, @cherryred444, @avengersheart, @guacala, @pukka-latte, @hobiismyhopeu, @lilvampirina, @ilovehotdadsandshit

A/N: AAAAA we're almost entering my favourite part of the series, but, I might post some throwbacks before we head to that though so stay tuned and like always, enjoy!! also kind of a late post but you know. hehe

Series Masterlist

The pair are seen on the red carpet during this year’s D23 Expo on The Mandalorian, which was to be released three months from now.

“Ok I'm gonna recreate your reaction to-being-casted celebration,” the interviewer, Ash, said as she shook hands with Pedro. She recreated his celebratory reaction making Pedro watch as she continued.

“That’s right. It was- it was a three-act event react play. Yeah, it was like “Oh thank you thank you”.. pass out,” He said also reenacting with an exaggerated crying look on his face, clearly having fun at what was happening.

She brings the mic closer to her to ask him her second question, “But can you walk me through actually finding out you were cast as The Mandalorian.” Pedro who was once looking at her intently, turned to look downwards remembering how that day went. 

“Well I got a call and the actual words were “Jon Favreau wants to talk to you about something Star Wars” and so I said absolutely and I went out to meet him at his offices in Playa Vista and he invited me into a room where he introduced me to Dave Filoni and in this room, it was wall-to-wall, immaculate illustrations of this series which is everything Star Wars-”

He continues to share his precious moments before the final revelation, “-And so being a Star Wars fan myself I was like, “oh what’s this” and “oh I remember that” and “what are you gonna do here” and “what do you want me to do?”” Pedro rambles on about asking them what creature, robot, or whatever role they wanted him to audition for before taking a deep breath.

“-and they looked confused and basically pointed to the- this incredible like silhouette of The Mandalorian. He said you’re the, you’re The Mandalorian. So yeah that’s why I- that’s why I sort of died inside of joy.”

Nodding at his response Ash looks at him,” Who was the first person you ever told when you got the job? Since the role became like a very important one for you.”

Scratching the back of his neck, “Well, y/n was picking me up from Jon’s place, so naturally, I told her fir-actually, I freaked out on her. I kept blabbering on things I can’t even remember you know, it must be the adrenaline I felt at that moment. And then- just then did I call my sister, who is a big Star Wars fan, saying how I’m a part of the huge franchise that she loves and now we’ve done and are about to release the first season, it makes me really happy.” Ending his response with a content smile.

“How could you not? I mean, you mentioned you were a Star Wars fan, so what’s your earliest Star Wars memory? Do you remember like-“ Ash inquired once again, wanting to know more about him and his experience as an interviewer.

Pedro enthusiastically blurted out,” I saw Star Wars- I saw episode four in the movie theatre. I was very young so I don’t remember the experience of being in the theatre for it as well as I do the empire strikes back which is burned into my childhood imagination and  I remember like three attempts to get tickets for return of the Jedi and getting my heart broken every time because it was sold out, and then finally getting the tickets and literally you know like staring at the poster being like I’m finally seeing this movie so it was highly present in my childhood. All the toys you know and all the stories yeah.”

“And now you’re in it,” Ash said, seemingly into his history with Star Wars.

Agreeing with her, “And now I’m in it. it’s weird, leading the series”

“Now, back to being an avid Star Wars watcher. What was your reaction when you were first introduced to your now-girlfriend, Y/n L/n, who played the character Sabe in the phantom menace?"

Pedro looks at her with a look that he knows what she was up to and decides to keep it short, "Yeah well like I knew it was her when we first met but I didn’t like barging into her space telling her that I’ve watched her in Star Wars and loved it because that would be weird coming from this guy you’ve never met before. But now, I can say that we’re now also together in another galaxy."

"Did you ever think you would ever meet her in person or like be with her all those years ago?"

Crossing his arms, thinking for a moment, "I didn’t really well- but to start it off I didn’t even think I would be able to meet her in any way, since she was like in the spotlight already at such a young age so I didn’t really think about it. That was until we got introduced that is and it was one of the best moments in my life," finishing it off with a shy smile.

“That’s sweet, do you think we’ll ever see Y/n as part of your series, The Mandalorian?”

“Good question but we haven’t thought about it really. But with the number of times she’s been on set they should’ve made a character just for her don’t you think?” Pedro said laughing. “Last question, what role from The Mandalorian would you think y/n would fit in if she were to be cast?” she quickly stated as their time's almost up.

Pedro gave her a teasing knowing look, “Ummm Mando’s lover, no I'm joking. But maybe someone in the ranks, probably not a Mandalorian cause she'll look-" he makes a tiny sign from his hands, laughing at himself, "-wearing the armour. Maybe a Jedi, we don’t know really, she can play herself actually. She’ll take whatever they give her.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x actress!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x female reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian s3

[dinbodaily]

I think people expected Mando… He had the sword, he’s gonna take the throne. He’s gonna change from a travelling bounty hunter to Aragorn or something. And you felt like, “Oh, that seems like where you’re gonna go with it.” But if you look at the clues, it actually hopefully, makes you reach the conclusion of where we went…

Jon Favreau

#* #dinboedit #themandalorianedit #dinbodaily #themandaloriandaily #dindjarinedit #bokatankryzeedit #disney gallery: the mandalorian #the mandalorian #swedit #starwarsedit #swsource #thestarwarsdaily #starwarsblr #swdaily #din djarin #bo katan kryze #armorer #bts #gifs

[morallyinept]

Shoot: Esquire Spain, November 2019

Photographer: JuanKR

Interviewer: Ana Trasobares

Grooming: Kristen Ingersoll

Full interview, behind the scenes, outtakes & shoot photographs below. 👇🏻

Jett's Pedro's Shoots Masterlist

• Cover shot and original images used in the magazine.

• Outtakes and behind the scenes images.

Behind the scenes shots of Pedro trying on outfits by Kristin Ingersoll:

• BTS Video

• Full Interview translated from Spanish

It’s a splendid day in Beverly Hills, but even more when Pedro Pascal walks through the door.

The protagonist of Narcos and in some chapters of Game of Thrones, is one of those guys who just shows up and gives off a good vibe. And there’s no pretending. Hours go by and not only does he not disappoint, but he goes on to become more: nice, kind, affectionate, a joker - very Latin and very normal.

This meeting in Los Angeles coincides with the premiere of his latest work, The Mandalorian, the most anticipated series by the amount of followers that the Star Wars universe drags. On November 12, Disney+ will launch its streaming platform in the US, Canada and the Netherlands and, among its offering, the first season of this series. While in Spain we will have to wait until March 31.

We spoke on the phone with its protagonist.

Who is the Mandalorian? 

He is a lone gunslinger who lives adventures on the edge of the galaxy, one of those that appears in the famous Star Wars canteen where some play music, others play cards, others make or end a deal… all seem to live outside of the law.

Why have you been so excited to star in this series?

When the creator and director, Jon Favreau, called me, I was really crazy because I, like millions of children, have grown up admiring the Star Wars universe. George Lucas is an icon of our culture, he belongs to our happiest memories, so it didn’t take me half a second to say yes.

What was the first movie you saw in the saga?

I saw the first 3 installments in a movie theater in San Antonio, Texas, when I was very young. My father was a doctor and a die-hard movie buff. He took us to the movies three times a week.

Is that why you became an actor?

Sure, because of him [laughs]. He got me the idea by taking me so much to the movies. I must have been 3 the first time I went. Normal for those images to stay with me, right?

Listening to an actor so beloved in Spain on the other end of the phone is sometimes strange, but other times feels familiar. He speaks Spanish fluently, with some Latin expressions and others in English, but they all come from his soul, because he is one of those who has grown up between the two worlds.

His family left Chile when he wasn’t even a one year old, fleeing from the Pinochet dictatorship. Denmark was their first destination as political refugees, and the US was the country which later welcomed them and saw them grow. Texas, New York, Madrid, Los Angeles, Bogotá, Mexico City, London, Santiago de Chile… all places he likes to call as home.

With your resume and the current situation around you, it is impossible not to wonder about political refugees in general and the Trump wall in particular?

We are all afraid and anxious about the actions that Trump is taking. One tries to understand the historical and political context that we live in, but the only thing that is clear to us is that we're hoping that these are the last steps of a fascist, and the only thing he sells us is fear and lies. What is happening economically and culturally, that we have to live these extremes? We should all have the same rights because we all have the same needs.

How would you define Trump?

If ego were an image that would be Trump. This is their politics inside and outside of the US, and it's very disheartening not knowing yet who will win, the good guys or the bad guys. How am I going to feel safe with a person who doesn’t want to help others when they have the power to do so?

Do you think he will last long in power?

I don’t know, nor are the limits or the ethics of politics that should maintain the balance in society very clear. It scares me to see the truth die, because the truth is worth less every day. This is why we are so lost.

Pedro Pascal doesn't want to continue talking about politics. He says he would understand perfectly if someone told him that he was getting where they were not called, so we changed third.

As the protagonist of Narcos, let’s talk about drugs. In Europe, many think that legalizing them would end drug trafficking. Do you agree?

Drugs are a recurring theme for fiction because they portray a society, culture and intrigue that occurs around them because they are illegal.

And what do you think?

…What can I tell you, since my genes are of very liberal and left-wing blood, okay?

And he laughs. Caught the hint, there is no choice but to talk about cinema and after climate change. 

Is the power of the Latin entertainment sector in the US appear to be true?

Yes, because the Latino public is getting better and better, so the Latin marketing and industry is also getting very strong. In this sense, Hollywood and cinema are lagging behind and should adapt to the new times, as streaming platforms do. These new avenues of entertainment do reflect reality by telling stories that represent the Latino public. After all, it's just another business.

How do you imagine the planet in 2050, if we continue to take care of it so little?

What scientists have been spreading for years must be put into practice. It is the least we can do if we want to save our home for future generations. It is also important that governments and those in power enforce these rules. As long as no action is taken, we will continue to oscillate between fear and hope.

Are you an activist?

My contribution, in addition to the small and necessary daily gestures, is not having children [laughs] … 

Seriously? There is a current that encourages not having offspring so as not to end the planet’s resources. You are one of them?

[More laughter]… Well, I don’t agree with applying measures to control the birth rate because having a child is a very emotional need, so I fully understand parents because, I am Uncle Pedro, by the way. I have ten nephews and I assure you that without them I could not live. If we do things well, it is positive that people can continue to have families…

And he starts laughing as he shares a reflection, “pathetic”, as he says: “As I'm still single and childless, I can afford to drink water from a plastic bottle without feeling horrible, right?” 

Looking forward to seeing him in The Mandalorian and next June in theaters in Wonder Woman 1984, we say goodbye to Pascal with one last question that we hope will bring you good proposals.

Pedro, when are you coming to work in Spain? 

Please, I’m looking forward to being invited! Put it in big letters, that I would love to work in Spain! As soon as I can, I will escape and come to see you.

Jett's Pedro's Shoots Masterlist

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal magazine #pedro pascal photo shoot #pedro pascal photos #pedro pascal words #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

[qulrikkek]

NOW let's ADDRESS the BANTHA in the room!!!

As a filmmaker, and a writer myself, when you build up a romantic relationship between two individuals you empathize how their relationship is growing.

Now, the sparks were definitely there in episode 2!

That look, (a Medium Close Up on Bo's face) which she gave to Din, after he honored her father's sacrifice could be the foundation, on which the show builds upon.

Unfortunately, afterwards there were no real indications.

No real discussion about Bo losing her castle, no real discussion by the fire when they went to rescue Ragnar, no discussion after the Armorer allowed her to take off her helmet (biggest plot whole so far), no discussion about why she wouldn't challenge Din for the Darksaber, no real discussion about their pasts (bonding is essential, but it's lacking here)... and other minor things that pile up into frustration in the viewer and later disappointment, because GLANCES at each other are NOT ENOUGH to build a relationship up, especially if they are not emphasized (there are no lingering camera close ups on neither Bo nor Din).

And unfortunately, NO the sitting closely beside each other scene is NOT an ENOUGH of an indicator of how closely their relationship is progressing...

HOWEVER!!!!!!! HEAR ME OUT!!!!

Jon Favreau amd Dave Filoni gave too much time and importance to Bo Katan's character on screen for them to then back out of it and return to simple bounty hunting episodes for Din. (In my opinion that would kill the show!)

It actually dawned on me that they are building up Bo's character too much...

She won back too much this season...

You might ask:

WHERE AM I GOING WITH THIS?

Since we know that there will be a season 4 for sure, and we have not yet seen Moff Gideon, nor Admiral Tarkin appear...

My Predictions are that Jon and Dave will play a (NASTY) card; (Filoni is known to love drama from Clone Wars, so...)

When The finale of this season comes and there's a big battle against the Mandalorians, Bo will be CAPTURED. (Or maybe injured, but that's not dramatic enough...)

This would set up the tension and the anticipation for the next season and would also give a perfect reason for Din to realize his feelings for her.

This would also push him to become the leader of her people and rescue her in season 4!

ADDITIONALLY, this show is about family (traditional family) structure.

Bo and Din spent too much time together, for the show runners not have any goal with this. (Even though they rarely talked WITH each other, rather they only talked TO each other, NOT the same thing!!!!)

I think that if they don't make DINBO happen this season the foundations were laid for the next season! (Slow burn)

ALSO, this entire third season was about how WELL they can WORK TOGETHER, so why waste the opportunity? Why not make Bo, Din and Grogu a family? (Although it could happen that they don't do anything with this, Disney is known for chickening out of real commitments!)

But After all these things these went through... Hmmm...

Hopefully this is the case, otherwise Season 3 of The Mandalorian is a sinking ship....

Anyway, there is still 2 episodes left and the way Axe Wolves has known in the beginning of episode 6 that the Quarren and the Calamari tried to run away for love (“I know it was for love.”) I predict that he will confront Bo about why wouldn't she challenge Din, and then he would find out that she has feelings for the bounty hunter.

#bo x din #dinbo #bodin #bo katan x din #bo katan #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x bo katan kryze #din x bo #din x bo katan #bo katan kryze x din djarin

[mndvx]

How do you eat when other people are around? –You don't. When you get your food, you go off to find a place where you can take off your helmet. THE MANDALORIAN – Chapter 20: The Foundling (S03E04) ››› Katee Sackhoff as Bo-Katan Kryze ››› Tait Fletcher and Jon Favreau as Paz Vizsla

#the mandalorian #katee sackhoff #bo-katan kryze #tait fletcher #jon favreau #paz vizsla #star wars #sw #themandalorianedit #starwarsedit #swedit #tvedit #the mandalorian spoilers

[thefrogdalorian]

Welcome Home, Son

Word Count: 4,166 Rating: Teen Summary: Din Djarin finds himself back on a mysterious planet that is strangely familiar to him, despite the years that have passed since he last stepped foot on it. A visit to the cabin he once shared with his family brings Din face-to-face with someone he never imagined he would again encounter for the rest of his days. Content Warnings: Grief, PTSD, survivor's guilt, grieving for parents. Author's Note: I started writing this last month, but a conversation with @djarinmuse inspired me to finish it tonight. When reading back after I finished I was like "oops this is emotional, who hurt you" so I'm sorry, and the answer is Jon Favreau, I guess. But I'm also not sorry... writing Din like this (weirdly) sparks joy.

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

It was seemingly early evening. The sun had apparently already set, as the sky was a striking shade of rapidly darkening blue. Yet, the mysterious planet was not yet plunged into the blackness of night. The man's eyes began to adjust as he surveyed the scene before him, looking for clues as to where exactly in the galaxy he currently found himself.

As he gazed around at the strangely familiar architecture, he realised in disbelief that he had somehow returned to the planet of his birth.

Several small cabins lining the main street were already glowing a pale orange from the small windows that offered a peek inside. A few of them had smoke slowly snaking their way into the serene sky from the chimneys. It was a galaxy apart from the condition the planet was in the last time he had stepped foot here. The smoke he had observed rising back then had been from the devastating destruction; that utter carnage that had robbed him of everyone he had ever loved and everything he had ever known. 

The sound of tiny feet pattering against the ground as a few children passed next to him, scampering down the road and giggling playfully as they went, caused him to turn his helmeted head and watch them closely. He noticed that they were still dressed in the distinctive dark red robes that, he too, had grown up wearing. The looming, solitary figure watched as the children disappeared into a cabin, feeling a pang of grief and longing for the life he had lost. Their carefree nature caused his eyes to fill with silent, unshed tears – known only to him thanks to the helmet he wore – as he stood there, taking in the sight. He had been just like them once, running through these streets without a care in the galaxy.

It had been so many years since Din Djarin had stepped foot on this planet. But it was as familiar to him as the day he had left all that time ago, wrapped protectively in the arms of the warrior that had saved him from certain death here on Aq Vetina, as they jetted upwards, towards a different life. Now, somehow, fate had brought him back to this very place where everything had changed for him.

If anyone here who remained remembered the small dark haired boy from all those years ago, they would not recognise the form he took now. The hulking Mandalorian's features were hidden by the helmet which perfectly matched the rest of his unpainted Beskar armour, still gleaming despite the low light. A satchel was slung casually across his shoulders, resting against his side, slightly obscured by the dark, tattered cape that he wore around his neck. Din placed a protective gloved hand on the satchel, for it contained the most precious thing in the galaxy to him.

Din stood there quietly for a few more seconds, taking in how surreal it was to be back. When he had departed this place, barely anything remained. On that terrible day, most of the planet's recognisable landmarks and features were reduced to smoking piles of rubble. But it appeared they had mostly been rebuilt over the time that had passed. Standing here, in this street, was the most surreal sensation, as though Din was seeing a ghost. He shook his head slightly and finally moved, finding his feet guided as though by some immovable force. That day, he had never had the opportunity to spy what happened to his cabin. His eyes had watered from the cold air that rushed around him as the Mandalorian carried him far from the battered surface, and he had not been able to get a good look at what remained. But now, perhaps he would get the answers to its fate that had haunted him for so many years.

Despite the decades that had passed, Din found that he remembered the route to what had once been his cabin perfectly. It was set slightly back from the main street. As Din traversed the path that led to his home, he felt his pulse rate quicken. His heart pounded in his chest, he heard it reverberating in his ear drums. What if he did not receive the answers he was so desperately searching for?

The street was slightly secluded from the hubbub of the main thoroughfare but it was still in a convenient location. Din’s friends lived dotted around the various cabins that lined his route to his former home. As he passed the memorable locations, he recalled how easily his group of friends had been able to assemble for days of fun in no time at all. They would dash from cabin to cabin, weaving between the crowds of bemused adults, calling for their friends to join them for what were, at the time, seemingly endless days of fun. Until they had ended.

That was something that had always struck Din, whenever he was reminiscing about his past life during those formative painful, lonely nights in the covert on Concordia where he had been taken – how perfect his life on Aq Vetina had been. A child should never have to contend with the number of burdens that Din at such a tender age. Reminiscing as an adult gave Din a new perspective on that devastation; he frequently found himself grieving for his younger self. That small boy did not deserve a single one of the terrible things that had happened to him. 

Din strode down the street purposefully, despite his nerves. But as he approached the end of the street, where his family's cabin was once located, Din felt all hope leave his body, the spark cruelly extinguished.

The cabin was dark. 

Clearly, no one lived here anymore. Imagining that his parents had survived such carnage had been an absurd notion and Din was momentarily disgusted with himself for ever being delusional enough to believe such a miracle could actually have been possible. 

Then, he was angry. Furious that this golden opportunity to get answers would yield no such outcome. How unjust that fate had caused him to step foot here, yet they would not allow him to gain closure. He would leave here none the wiser to the fate of his parents.

Din allowed the sorrow to sweep in then. He felt profound sadness that there were to be no answers; that he would never find out what had happened to his beloved parents. For a moment, when he had arrived here, he had visions of his mother gathering him in his arms, holding the back of his head with her hand just as she did on that terrible day. Except this time, her face would not be lined with anguish and terror at the impending doom that was exploding all around him… this time she would be able to appreciate the man he had become. 

Din had imagined his father placing his large, warm hand on his cheek, his face inches away, their identical brown eyes gazing into each other’s as Din explained the facial hair he kept was his way of honouring him. Din’s voice would crack as he spoke, telling them that all these years he had thought they were dead. But he had never stopped missing them, or loving them, not for one single second.

But it was not to be.

Din stood there for a few more seconds, the anguish squeezing his inside until he almost felt as though he was going to suffocate from the agony. He was about to turn on his heel and walk away, when something inside him stopped him and made him turn towards the cabin. Even if there was indeed no one inside, Din could at least step foot in the first place he had ever called home.

As Din approached the cabin, he knew with absolute certainty that this was the place where he had been born. It was unmistakably the place where he had spent such a happy childhood, with the parents who were entirely devoted to him and to each other. Before their futures had curelly been snatched away by the Separatist battle droids. The doors and windows were exactly as he remembered; the domed roof matched with the rest of the traditional architecture on Aq Vetina.

Din took a deep breath as he raised a gloved hand to the door. Then he pushed the polished wooden surface, and stepped over the threshold, simultaneously unprepared for and desperate to see what lay beyond.

In the darkness, it took a few seconds for Din’s eyes to adjust to make sense of the sight before him. There was no light coming from outside the cabin, and with no lit fire, there was certainly no light emanating from within. But once Din’s eyes had adjusted, he noticed a shock of maroon belonging to a form in the main room of the cabin. 

There was a figure hunched over the fireplace. Whoever was there appeared to be placing some wood on it to light the fire. Once Din’s eyes adjusted further, he noticed how impossibly tiny the figure appeared. The slender figure was frail, clearly of an advanced age. Could it really be her?

Din was about to call his mother’s name into the darkness, to check that it really was her. But a small sound cut him off. 

“Who is it? Who’s there?” A shaky voice asked into the darkness as its hunched figure straightened.

“It’s… me, Ma,” Din replied, swallowing thickly and forcing his shoulders back, to stand tall in front of her, despite how much he was trembling.

“Din? Is that… is that really you?” The woman asked in disbelief, as she shakily shuffled through the cabin and approached the door, where Din stood, unmoving.

“Yes, Ma. It’s me,” Din nodded. “I never thought I’d see you again,” Din whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling thickly with the emotion of the moment. 

“You were just a little boy the last time I saw you, now look at you. You’re a man,” The elderly woman said admiringly, as she came to stand in front of the hulking frame of her beloved son, with his broad shoulders accentuated by the meticulously polished armour that he wore. "Oh, Din. I wish I could have started this fire, so I could get a proper look at you."

“Would you like me to help you light it?” Din asked, nodding in the direction of the fireplace where his mother had been hunched when he had made his surprise entrance into the cabin. 

“Please,” Din’s mother nodded appreciatively. “I always struggle with the matches,” She grumbled.

As Din made his way towards the fireplace, his hands instinctively came towards his helmet. If he was going to put some fire into the room, he didn’t want his mother to be greeted with only the unrelenting blackness of his T-visor. He wanted her to be able to gaze into his eyes, the brown eyes that were so much like her own.

At that moment, thoughts of the Creed he had sworn, of his redemption in the Living Waters beneath the Mines of Mandalore, were forgotten. Din could not pass up on an opportunity like this. Besides, wasn’t family a fundamental part of what it meant to be Mandalorian? How could a way of life that taught that above anything deny a mother and son bonding again in this way, after so many years of torturous separation?

Din noticed the wood that had already been neatly placed in the fireplace, he reached for the box of matches on top of the mantlepiece. It was strange, the last time he had been here, he had looked up to the mantlepiece, it towered over him as though it was the largest thing he had ever seen. Now, though, Din was a hulking man, who loomed large over the mantlepiece, dwarfing everything else in the room. 

The match sparked as it struck the textured paper, before catching light. Din lowered it down to the woods, blowing on it to get the fire going, mimicking the memories from childhood of his father lighting a fire in this very place so many times. Din’s father had made it look so effortless, even when his hands were trembling from the cold that necessitated lighting a fire. The three of them would then huddle by the fire, Din, his mother and his father. 

His father.

Din had been so taken aback by his surprise reunion with his mother that he had not even considered his father's notable absence. Perhaps he was out running an errand in the town? If his mother had survived, then surely his father had, too? The last he had seen of them, they had been together after they pushed him into the below-ground cellar, where he had sheltered from the destructive rampage. Where was he now?

But before Din could ponder his father's fate any further, the fire caught, and a warm orange glow filled the cabin. Din stood up from the crouched position by the fire, careful not to disturb the satchel still slung around his body. 

He turned around and could now freely gaze at the face he had been convinced he would never see again. Now his helmet was no longer darkening the already poorly-lit cabin, Din could look at his mother properly. The last time he had seen her, she had been so young, probably even younger than Din was now, a thought that was strangely disturbing to him. Din could not even contemplate the horror of losing a child at such a young age.

Even though the years had altered some of his mother's features, so much of her was instantly recognisable to Din. From her long, wavy hair that trailed down her back and around her shoulders, once the same shade of brown as Din’s but now greyed with age; to her deep brown eyes and distinctive nose, shaped so much like Din’s. It was a rare nose shape that he had not often encountered, but seeing his mother share the features made Din feel less alone in the vast galaxy. There were heavy wrinkles lining her forehead and deep bags underneath her eyes. Din thought his mother looked as though she had lived with a great deal of pain for a long time. He felt terrible, knowing that most of it was undoubtedly his fault. He cursed himself for not returning to her sooner. But Din had been so terrified that his worst fears would be confirmed: he was the last, the only survivor from that torrid day on Aq Vetina. So he ran from job to job, through every corner of the galaxy. Until he met Grogu.

As Din had been taking in her mother’s face, she, too, had been gazing at the son she idolised and adored. She was mystified by his sudden arrival, her eyes widened and her lips parted in awe. Din’s mother had long feared that her son had never survived his ordeal in the cellar; to the best of her knowledge, he had vanished without a trace from Aq Vetina. The woman consoled herself in the immediate aftermath with visions of Din getting away, growing into a handsome and strong young man, a fantasy that she had continued into her old age, that had wrapped its arms around her and comforted her when there had no longer been a physical presence remaining to do so. 

“Oh, you look so handsome. Look at you.” Din’s mother murmured, as she gently cupped the stubbly cheek of the son she had believed was long dead in her frail left hand.

Her hands were wrinkled and weathered with age, but they still felt as soft as Din remembered them from his childhood. Din squeezed his eyes shut at the contact, unused to feeling the warmth of another human being on his face in this way. It was overwhelming, almost painful.

“You look so much like your father,” Din’s mother said as she stood back to admire him. “He would be so proud of you.”

“My father?” Din’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Is he here?” He asked hopefully.

“No, Din… that day. He didn’t make it.” Din’s mother said simply, feeling that it was best to get to the point. Her face dropped from the proud, stunned expression she had been wearing as she gazed at her son to one of deep sorrow.

“Oh…” Din said, his brow furrowing as the news he had feared was relayed to him. “Then, how did you survive?” Din questioned, struggling to process how she had possibly made it out alive, when his father had been cut down so brutally.

“Yes, after we put you in the cellar that day he… he lingered just a second too long after we shut the door. He was closer to the explosion,” Din’s mother explained. “There was nothing that could be done. I’m sorry, Din. He loved you so much, with his dying wish… he wanted you to be safe. If he could see you now… he would be so proud.”

“I know. I understand that kind of love for myself, now,” Din nodded. But before he could dwell on his parental pride, Din’s thoughts turned to concern for his mother. “What were you doing without having a fire lit?”

“Oh, Din,” Din’s mother sighed, looking towards the floor in shame. “The nights get so cold, my hands don’t work the same as they used to. I struggle to gather the wood, to light the fire.”

Din shook his head and stepped towards the tiny woman, suddenly feeling a strong protective urge blossom somewhere deep inside him. Din reached out and placed his hand on the top of her arm, his gloved fingers reaching out to grip her arm tightly, as though afraid she would slip away from him once more. 

“I’m here now, Ma. I’m going to take care of you.” Din pledged solemnly.

“Thank you, Din,” The old lady nodded in gratitude, before wrapping her arms around his waist, searching for the warm, fleshy parts of her son that she could feel between the cold, hard armour. Din’s mother leaned in for a hug. 

For the few seconds the two remaining Djarins spent standing there, bodies close together in the small cabin on Aq Vetina, Din felt all the hurt beginning to lessen. The years of suffering, of agonising over her fate, had been replaced by gratitude that his mother had survived, despite all the odds against her. Din would properly process the loss of his father in the time to come. But for now, he relished the warm embrace of his mother. His chin resting on her thick grey hair, as he inhaled her familiar scent. It did not last, though.

“Maker, that’s cold!” Din’s mother exclaimed as she took an alarmed step back, out of the tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Ma. I don’t often… hug people in this thing,” Din shook his head as he gestured towards his armour. 

“Well, I suppose I should ask about the story behind you wearing all of that,” Din’s mother returned the gesture, her hand reaching out in the direction of his impressive Beskar’gam.

“I was rescued by Mandalorians. I was taken to a moon called Concordia, by their homeplanet of Mandalore. The Mandalorians that rescued me adhered to a strict creed. I was required to hide my face behind a helmet from a young age,” Din clarified the reason for his elaborate armour.

“My son, a Mandalorian…” Din’s mother murmured as she shook her head in shock. “I cannot believe it. I always knew you would do great things, Din.”

Din swallowed thickly, knowing that his past was far more complicated than his mother could possibly imagine. It was true that he had done a great many things she could be proud of, but it was equally true that she would probably not be able to look him in the eye if she knew the destruction and depravity he had been known to unleash throughout the galaxy.

But there was one thing above all else, that Din was undeniably proud of. That he knew would make his mother proud, too. Din knew it was now time to introduce them.

“There’s… there’s someone I want you to meet.” Din said nervously, as he moved the satchel he had been periodically placing a protective hand on throughout their conversation around to his front. 

Din’s hands were trembling as his gloved hand opened the bag. The brown material was lifted, and familiar green ears of the child who had changed Din’s life suddenly poked out.

“This is my son, Grogu.” Din said proudly, feeling his eyes burn with tears, as he introduced his adopted family to the final surviving member of his biological family.

Grogu’s head peeped up beyond the bag where he had been comfortably resting, accustomed to being carried around in such a manner. His big brown eyes blinked a few times, adjusting to the light after so much time spent in the darkness of the satchel.

“Oh, Din. He’s precious,” His mother clasped her hand over her mouth at the sight of her grandson. “I always hoped that you would be a father, have a family of your own.”

“I never thought I would be a father, myself. I used to be a bounty hunter. Grogu was actually a target of mine. After I turned him in, I realised how innocent and defenceless he was,” Din said, swallowing thickly as he looked down at the tiny, innocent baby who he had once so callously betrayed. Indeed, the heavy armour that his mother had admired had been the spoils of his sin. “I had to go back to get him. We’ve been together ever since. I adopted him, he’s my son now.”

“Din, that’s wonderful. I don’t blame you, look at him. What an adorable little thing. How could anyone ever want to hurt him?” Din’s mother stepped towards them. “I’ve never seen anything like him.”

“Neither had I,” Din added in agreement. “He used to be a Jedi. Grogu had the chance to become one again but he chose…” Din swallowed, suddenly overcome with emotion when he remembered the enormity of Grogu’s decision. “He chose to come back to me.”

“The Jedi… I know them,” Din’s mother nodded. “I thought they were all long dead.”

“So did I, but I have encountered them throughout my travels,” Din recalled. “They are few in number now, but there are some left. Just like Mandalorians, they have survived.”

“Can I… would you mind if I held him?” Din’s mother asked nervously.

“Of course you can,” Din nodded encouragingly. 

But as he moved to take Grogu from the satchel and carefully place his son into his mother’s arms, the child began to whine furiously. As Din lifted Grogu up, all the warmth placed into the room, thanks to the fire he had just lit, was rapidly sucked out of the cabin. Din felt cold. His mother’s face swirled, distorted before him.

Suddenly, everything faded to black.

*

Din awoke with a start. He was still in a cabin, but it was not his family’s cabin on Aq Vetina. He was on Nevarro, in the little home he shared with his son. 

It was the middle of the night, there was hardly any light, but Din could hear Grogu’s steady breathing and the weight of his child slumbering peacefully on his chest. Din also felt the way Grogu’s tiny claw was splayed against his cheek.

There had been no reunion on Aq Vetina, Din realised. The thought distressed him, but it did not surprise him. His parents were still gone. Grogu was all he had. 

Din leaned down to press a kiss to Grogu’s wrinkled forehead, feeling the fine white hairs tickle his upper lip and nose. Their bond, their closeness… it was just as profound as the love he had felt for his parents. Time had not diminished that, and Din knew that for as long as Grogu lived, for the centuries the child would likely outlive him, Grogu’s love for the Mandalorian who had rescued him and taken him in would never diminish. Din understood that the love a child had for their parents was a force more powerful than anything else he had encountered, in all of his travels throughout the galaxy. It was more powerful than anger, or hate, or fear.

With that in mind, Din placed his hand on Grogu’s back and hugged his son a little tighter than usual. Grogu was all the family Din had, he was all the family Din would ever have. It was a thought that had brought Din to his knees and humbled him countless times over the years since he had encountered Grogu on Arvala-7.

Tonight, as Din felt the little boy nuzzle into his broad chest, it did so again.

#my fics #seriously why did i write this i have no defence #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #clan mudhorn #WITH THIS I HIT 300K WORDS ON AO3!!! #pretty insane considering i've only been writing since september #can you tell i'm neurodivergent......

[pedrohub]

Speaking with French entertainment news program BFMTV INSIDE, The Mandalorian creator and showrunner Jon Favreau hinted at where they stand with Season 4 of his flagship Star Wars series.

With Season 3 looming on the horizon, Favreau noted that "[he's] written [Season 4] already," adding that he did much of the work on the fourth season "during post-production" of the third:

“Season 4? Yeah, I’ve written it already. We have to know where we are going to tell a fully formed story. So, we had mapped it out, Dave [Filoni] and I. And then slowly you just write each episode. So I was writing it during post-production, because all of it has to feel like a continuation and one full story."

He lamented that "we have to know where we are going to tell a fully formed story," pointing to series like Ahsoka and Skeleton Crew as things to "keep in mind" when building out their greater Mando-verse:

"And then he’s doing ‘Ahsoka’, which I’m production with him, but he’s the writer and showrunner on that. And so, to understand what’s happening on other shows or even ‘Skeleton Crew’, they all take place in the same Star Wars time period. So, there’s alot more things that we have to keep in mind and stuff that we’ve built up to from previous seasons of ‘The Mandalorian’ as well."

This is in line with recent reports that filming for Season 4 is currently set to commence in October, with the search for prop teams and pre-production crew being underway now.

The Mandalorian Season 4 Gets Exciting Update from Jon Favreau (thedirect)

#the mandalorian #star wars #pedro pascal #news #interviews

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

i understand where this post comes from but as a lover of sitcoms and procedurals i do feel the need to stand up for TV shows that are just wandering around forever. sometimes they are awesome! also they are almost all TV shows in the history of TV and again i get that the tides are shifting but it just is a little funny to read. anyway you couldn’t pay me to watch the mandalorian so idk if that’s a show where you really fucking want them to have a plan (like severance, which will be so fucked if it turns out they’re fully winging it) or a show where it’s cool to vibe (like… ok again like literally almost all shows ever created in history). maybe the second season was bad and they’re shading jon favreau or whatever. also this is not serious nor is it a complaint. i am simply here to defend the right of TV not to have a plan!

#i love a show with a limit and an end point in mind #but i also really genuinely love how TV is a medium with some inherent chaos built into the creation #TV people are like the most interesting people to read interviews about the stuff they’ve written with #because of how much of the process is one of like. accident and discovery. #this is TV wisdom that is being lost like filler episodes and also what an episode is

[whentherewerebicycles]

ugh I am really struggling with a thing with a former student/mentee of mine. in the week or two of the post-hamas attack aftermath I posted something on instagram that was basically like, i feel an obligation to be an informed global citizen and believe me I read/think about/despair over the news every day but I also think it’s ok to really viscerally hate “doing politics” on social media, where complex, centuries-old geopolitical and cultural conflicts get reduced to a sensationalized infographic some teenager designed on canva last night. at the time I was watching people spread rampant misinformation about the hospital explosion when we had zero conclusive information, and had also just heard jon favreau talking about research indicating that something like 80% of the images and videos people were sharing on social media weren’t actually FROM the current conflict or couldn’t be verified as real. and idk I also have some private thoughts about how american leftists in particular really glom onto this issue because we perceive israelis as ‘white people’ and palestinians as people of color and we get to feel like we are exorcising our own country’s racial demons by advocating for the expulsion of the israeli people from land that many of them actually have deep historical ties to and at least a semi-legitimate cultural and religious claim to inhabiting.

to be clear I think the current israeli government is pretty much your trump-inspired shitty/evil right-wing militaristic populist movement and I feel like their response has squandered every single ounce of empathy garnered by the hamas attacks!! but idk I guess what I want to carve out space for is like, the right to say I AM NOT AN EXPERT HERE. I DO NOT HAVE DEEP ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE TO FULLY UNDERSTAND THE ROOTS OF THIS CONFLICT. I WORRY ABOUT SPREADING DANGEROUS MISINFORMATION IN BOTH DIRECTIONS IF I SHARE UNVERIFIED SOURCES OR REDUCTIVE TAKES. ALSO I AM A PRIVATE CITIZEN AND I DO NOT HAVE A “PLATFORM” JUST BECAUSE I HAVE A SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNT. I RESERVE THE RIGHT TO BE CONFUSED, TO NOT PASS SNAP JUDGMENTS ON RAPIDLY EVOLVING INTERNATIONAL INCIDENTS, AND TO ENGAGE IN POLITICS BY MEANS OTHER THAN SOCIAL MEDIA POSTING. but idk this former student, who I had a really good relationship with for many years, has just come after me in my DMs and keeps sending me posts implying that anyone who is not furiously posting right now is pro-Palestinian genocide, etc etc, and meanwhile she is posting hundreds of unverified stories a day from Arabic-language sources that aren’t just like, anti-Zionist but are actively pro-Hamas, actively denying that the attacks on Israel happened, and actively calling for the immediate and violent expulsion of all Jews from the area. dude idk she’s not my student anymore so I think I’m just going to disengage/not respond and continue staying off insta because it sucks out there!! but it sucks!

I also just refuse to experience a war via unfiltered social media posts again. I did that for a month or two at the start of the ukraine invasion and I can’t unsee some of the stuff I saw on telegram. I don’t actually think any of us have a moral obligation to watch or share a 24/7 feed of graphic images of maimed corpses and crying children. I can’t make the violence STOP by watching that content and I also don’t believe that ravenously consuming the most terrible moments of people’s lives is a form of meaningful political solidarity. WHATEVER as you can see I still feel super conflicted about how to feel about all of this but I also have to remind myself that IT’S NOT NORMAL to click through my stories or scroll down my feed alternating between liking people’s cat photos and watching people dying half a world away. we were NOT BUILT to process world-historical events this way and it is OKAY to opt out of watching a livestream of human suffering you are personally powerless to do anything about.

#I think it is fine to post a lot about an issue you are passionate about! she is clearly passionate about this! #but I hate that the active-posting crowd often acts like people who don’t do exactly the same thing are evil complicit or indifferent #I am so distressed about the state of the world right now!!!! #but I just don’t want to do politics like that it makes me feel so much worse and often makes me feel more powerless

[odinsblog]

It’s 2:32am, and Mike decides to call Nikki, a girl he met just a few hours ago.

Nikki’s machine picks up: Hi, this is Nikki. Leave a message.

Mike: Hi, uh, Nikki, this is Mike. I met you at the, um, at the Dresden tonight. I just called to say that I had a great time… and you should call me tomorrow, or in two days, whatever. Anyway, my number is 213–555–467

The machine beeps. Mike calls back, the machine picks up.

Mike: Hi, Nikki, this is Mike again. I just called ‘cuz it sounded like your machine might’ve cut me off when I, before I finished leaving my number. Anyway, uh, and, y’know, and also, sorry to call so late, but you were still at the Dresden when I left so I knew I’d get your machine. Anyhow, uh, my number’s 21 -

The machine beeps Mike calls back. The machine picks up again.

Mike: 213–555–4679. That’s it. I just wanna leave my number. I didn’t want you to think I was weird or desperate, or… we should just hang out and see where it goes cuz it’s nice and, y’know, no expectations. Okay? Thanks a lot. Bye bye.

He hangs up. Mike walks away from the phone… then walks back and calls again. Once again, the machine picks up.

Mike: I just got out of a 6-year relationship, okay? That should help explain why I’m acting so weird. I just wanted you to know that. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m sorry… This is Mike.

Hangs up. Calls back, the machine picks up again.

Mike: Hi, Nikki, this is Mike. Could you just call me when you get in? I’m gonna be up for awhile and I’d just rather speak to you in person instead of trying to fit it all into -

The machine beeps.

Mike: Fuck!

Mike calls back, gets the machine again.

Mike: Uh, Nikki? Mike. It’s uh, uh, it’s just, uh, this just isn’t working out. I think you’re great, but maybe we should just take some time off from each other. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s what I’m going through, alright? It’s uh… it’s only been 6 months …

Nikki: [picks up] Mike?

Mike: [very cheerful] Nikki? Great! Did you just walk in or were you listening all along?

Nikki: Don’t ever call me again.

Hangs up.

Mike: Wow. I guess you’re home.

— Swingers (1996), written by Jon Favreau

#lol #swingers #voicemail #fave #havent seen this movie since i was a baby #life before caller id