#She is rarely ever seen without her helmet in public so her identity is a mystery to most as well

[janamensch]

Aerois did not have enough Spellclash and Sky jousting, so I need Altheya to make up for that with lots of knights and tournaments. Therefore I present to you Altheya knight AU!

[miekasa]

any spare levi headcanons tonight????? 😁😁😁😁

Sure, why not, he is the love of my life after all. These are pretty random, and fit in some sort of generalized modern boyfriend au. Hopelessly domestic, as that is the nature of nearly everything I write for Levi, anyway. Also still terribly obsessed with the idea of him with a motorcycle, so there’s that.

He owns at least six black blazers. They’re nearly identical; slight differences in texture and cut, one with lapels, one that’s boldly all leather that you swear you’ve never seen him wear. They’re kind of his go-to staple, other than a sweater.

That being said, he doesn’t exclusively wear all black. His closet leans towards more neutrals, sure, but he’s not allergic to color. You might not catch him wearing neon orange on the average day, but he’s not averse to a nice shade of green, any shade of purple that suits his mood, even a softer pink.

He has towels and rags he sets aside especially for you when he comes over. He always washes them and put them back in place when you leave so that they’re ready to go for next time.

Claims to not have any attachment to the shows/dramas you watch, but he’s totally backseat watching. Halfway into every single series, he starts sitting down when you turn it on, and scoffs at dumb decisions the characters make.

He splurged on one of those frame TVs that look like a painting when they’re idle. It was a good investment in his opinion.

He doesn’t hate Starbucks drinks—there’s worse things out there in terms of quality of tea. What he despises about the establishment is the way they call out names for you to pick up your order. He’s learned that mobile order ahead is the way to go.

Has slippers for around the house, so consequently, you have slippers for walking around his house. He keeps both pairs (and a few extra for friends and guests) tucked neatly beside the door for easy access; yours always go next to his.

Does not understand the purpose of a robe. Buy him one tho and he will suddenly find an excuse to wear it: making breakfast, lounging around watching TV, doing some light cleaning and dusting. It’s comfy, alright, he can admit that much.

The little puppy you got him that he swore he was not going to warm up to now gets the royal treatment. The best doggie goods and treats, top rated shampoos, cutest drying towels, even a miniature couch he constructed just for the pup. They’re best friends, there’s no breaking that bond now.

Speaking of the puppy, affectionately named Captain, Levi can be found walking him every day shortly after work. They have a few different routes, but they always pass by the local vendors/market, who enthusiastically anticipate their appearance every day. Some of the older ladies running stands have even taken to bringing a few treats with them for Captain—after bundling up some goods for Levi, too, of course.

Captain also has a special doggy backpack Levi uses for when he’s on his motorcycle. If you follow anybody on TikTok in his area, you’re bound to see at least one video of the pup while Levi’s out riding. He’s become viral on social media without even knowing it.

(When you show him a video someone posted of him and Captain with well over 100k likes, and a million views, he only rolled his eyes. But remembers that particularly day; remembers the folks had a kid who politely asked to pet the dog, so he let him. He also maybe asks you to send the link to him).

On the subject of the motorcycle, there was a good few weeks he wouldn’t let you on it. Always found an excuse, a smart reply that was punctuated with gentle push on your forehead and calling you too clumsy for it. Later, you found out it’s because he’d ordered you a helmet; didn’t want to risk you riding without one.

He always keeps it in the storage compartment should he make a stop to pick you up while he’s riding; and he usually wears at least two layers to have a spare to wrap you in before you get on.

When he cooks, he always makes sure there’s enough for leftovers and/or to give you some later. He also bakes frequently, and at least once a week, he stops by with some kind of treat for you—“Trying out a new recipe, let me know if you think it’s missing anything.”

On the subject of food, he won’t police what you eat to annoying extent; he knows that not everybody has the time or will to make pasta from scratch like he does. But, he will smack your wrist if you consider ordering fast food when you’re over at this place. Give him 30 minutes and a single pan, he’ll make something much better than whatever you can find on Uber Eats.

Really, though, he doesn’t mean to obnoxious about the homemade food thing, it’s more habit for him. Growing up, he had to learn to be resourceful, so buying fast-food isn’t ever at the forefront of his mind. Cooking for you also turns out to be something somewhat intimate that he enjoys, so just let him.

Once bought an Apple Watch because he liked the look of them, it wasn’t insanely expensive like other high end watches, and it could connect to his other devices, so why not? A week later he returned it, the ping of his notifications were in one too many places for his liking.

You tried to convince him to keep it—“At least for when you’re jogging! It can track your activity and calories!”—but he clicks his teeth. He’ll survive without keeping track of them.

He learned the hard way that jogging with Captain is no good. His legs are too tiny and Levi ended up carrying the puppy the entire time. Captain is more of a walk dog… or ride on the back of his bike dog.

If you changed anything in his phone settings—like the ringtone for you contact, or the sound his keyboard makes—he wouldn’t go back in and try to figure out how to reset it. Unless it was something obnoxious, like adding an autocorrect shortcut to say something lewd.

He doesn’t really listen to music when he’s just walking. When he’s on a run, that’s fine, but he somewhat prefers to just… hear the environment around him when he’s on a stroll or a break from work. The only reason he’d have headphones on in public is to take a phone call, but even then, he’d prefer to wait until he’s somewhere more private.

He likes having you over at his apartment and has contemplated asking you to move in. He doesn’t want to rush anything, though, so he’s content with your sleepovers for now. (Though he really cannot fathom that you call them “sleepovers” like you’re 14. Please).

He speaks to his mother at least once a week, and she always asks about you. Levi tells her that you’re fine, gives her small updates about you, but Kuchel really just wants to know when the wedding is. He pretends to be busy whenever she starts asking and conveniently ends the call.

Occasionally, he’ll stop by and take you out for lunch. Depends on how much time he has during the day for himself, but he always enjoys sharing a meal with you.

Whenever you’re out with your friends drinking, Levi will pick you up. Even if you already told him that you’d Uber home; as soon as you text him that you’re going to leave soon, he’s already on his way.

He makes pretty good cocktails himself. Teases you for running his alcohol supply dry when the truth is he has more of your favorites in his cabinet than his own. He secretly likes the way you flirt with him when you’re tipsy.

You don’t always cuddle on top of each other when you sleep together. You can just lay by each other and that’s enough; but sometimes, you catch Levi turning towards you in his sleep, reaching for your hand. His body seems to search for yours subconsciously, and you swear there’s a hint of a smile on his sleeping face when you put your hand within reach.

Do not try to pay for dinner when you’re out with him. He’ll pull the “I’m going to use the restroom” move and pay the bill behind your back if he needs to. Open your own doors, maybe; pull out your own chairs, sure if you want; but not this.

He flosses very diligently every night. Mostly because he fucking hates the dentist, so if he takes the extra steps and is extra careful with his teeth, he doesn’t have to go as often, right?—Wrong, it’s the one time the roles are reversed, and you and Hange have to wrestle him into the doctor’s office.

On the flip side, if there are any doctors you routinely avoid and/or forget to schedule check ups for, fear not, because Levi will do it for you. He’ll drive you there, too—the only caveat being, that he usually doesn’t tell you where you’re going until you’re almost there. You think he’s doing the mysterious man surprise date thing and then boom, he’s pulling up to the ophthalmologist. Good luck.

He’s purchased a physical, paper copy of the news on every one of your anniversaries, birthdays, and other special occasions. He keeps them all neatly tucked away in a drawer. Sometimes, he looks back on them—sees what was happening in the world around you on that day. Maybe someday he’ll cut them up and bind them together in a book for you.

He doesn’t like having headphones in when you’re home with him, and preferred if you didn’t either—unless it was for work or school. He welcomes you to use his speakers and play your music aloud; he likes listening to what you listen to. If you look closely, you can catch him humming along or tapping his foot when he really likes a song.

Saves pictures you send him in an album in his camera roll. Occasionally can be found scrolling through them—particularly if you’ve been away on a trip, or he hasn’t gotten the chance to see you because of conflicting schedules.

He takes relatively short showers and doesn’t have a strong preference for the water temperature, so he lets you shower first. Unless you want him to join you, of course.

It’s not hard to tell when Levi wants you. He becomes noticeably more touchy, even if that margin isn’t too wide by anyone else’s standards; and he rarely tries to hide it. It only happens in the privacy of your apartments; but he’ll come on to you—leaning a bit further into conversations, a hand on your knee, a kind of cloudy look in his eyes.

Sometimes he forgoes the attempts at being subtle, just kisses you out the blue, carefully backs you up against the wall, puts his hands on your hips. He can be awfully direct when given the opportunity.

[presidentrhodes]

it’s spoiling @pedropascalisathot time 😏

Title: The Mandalorian Characters: Din Djarin, Peli Motto (feat. Boba Fett, Fennec Shand because they’re the superior trio) Summary: Din’s been laying low on Tatooine for months. It’s time he paid a visit to a friend. 

Din leaned against the balcony ledge as he stared into the distance, watching as the fading suns reflected on sand dunes that dotted the horizon. With a deep sigh, he took another sip of spotchka and turned sideways, to face Boba and Fennec. “I am going to be away for a couple of days,” Din said. “There’s something I need to do.” 

***

More than three months had passed since his life was thrown out of orbit, leaving him listless, in search for direction and for an identity. Bo-Katan wasn’t thrilled by his decision to return with Fennec to the Slave I, instead of fulfilling his promise to help in her efforts to retake Mandalore. Though she let him leave when Boba came for them, she left him with a pointed reminder of the responsibility that fell on him. Before he had left the bridge of Gideon’s cruiser, Bo-Katan had grabbed his arms and whispered: “I will find you again and when I do, I will reclaim what is rightfully mine.” It was both a threat and a promise, and Din had no doubt she would make good on her word when the time came. 

After arriving on Tatooine, Din stayed away from Boba’s court despite the other man’s standing offer to have him as an adviser. Instead, every evening, he allowed Boba and Fennec into his quarters for a drink and to reminisce. Both of them had been tactful enough to avoid mentioning Grogu, but Din knew Boba already had Luke Skywalker’s location tracked and that Fennec stood ready for a covert mission to extract the kid if Din ever said the word. Though he loved them as friends, and saw them as the closest thing he had as a family, Din hated the subtle, silent devotion both Boba and Fennec showed him. 

“Like it or not, you are the rightful heir to the throne of Mandalore,” Fennec had told him one evening when Boba was away on business. “Even he recognises that.”

“Boba doesn’t care about Mandalore,” Din had shot back. It earned him a smile from Fennec as she patted his shoulders and refilled his glass with spotchka. 

“Well, yes, but he cares about you, and if you ask, I know he’ll follow you.” Fennec had raised her glass at him. “I will too.”

As the days passed, and Din grew accustomed to the heat and humidity on Tatooine, the Darksaber weighed him down as much as the beskar did. Residents and passers-by in the Hutt palace didn’t care much for his creed or his identity, as long as Din remained out of their way. One afternoon, things came to a head when he walked into Boba’s court, in search of his friend, and encountered a Twi’lek who flinched at his sight and, without prompt, fell to his knees and pleaded for mercy. That night, Din took off both the Darksaber and his armour, stashing them away under his bed. 

Unlike the time when he was forced to take the beskar’gam off on Morak, where the knots in his chest twisted and made it harder to breathe, Din felt his appearance in public the next day liberating. Boba had raised a brow in surprise when Din walked into his court in a loose black tunic with gray tabards and a dark brown leather belt but no one ever questioned his decision. 

Like everything else on Tatooine, the moment was fleeting and passed in a blink.

***

“Where will you go?” Boba said from where he sat on the floor, his back pressed against the ledge, while Fennec rested on a cushion, with her feet on his lap as he massaged them. She had returned from a hunt earlier in a foul mood that forced Boba to reconvene their daily meeting before the last of the daylight faded. 

Din kept his gaze fixed into the distance. Somewhere beyond the dunes in the horizon lay the Mos Eisley spaceport and the familiar docking bay three-five. Taking another swig of spotchka, he said, “Mos Eisley. There’s someone I need to see.” Din looked down at his palms. “There’s a mechanic—well, she’s a friend. She cared about Grogu.”

“The less people know about the kid and the Jedi, the better,” Boba said after a long pause. 

Din fought back the urge to tell his friend that he was wrong to cast doubt on Peli, that she loved the kid as her own and if anyone deserved the truth, it was her. But Din knew Boba meant well. The Imps wouldn’t give up on hunting Grogu just because Gideon had been captured and taken to Coruscant. The Empire was nothing but persistent and patient—on Morak, Valin Hess had all but confirmed that the Empire had its tentacles buried deep in the Outer Rim, beyond the notice of the New Republic, lurking in the shadows and ready to pounce when the opportunity presented itself. 

“She doesn’t need to know all the details,” Din said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt the tell-tale signs of an approaching headache; a common ailment that he had gotten used to in the last three months where sleep became a rare commodity. Even as his body craved rest, his mind still galloped a million miles a minute in the crisp, warm Tatooine air, and the beige walls of his quarters closed in, leaving him trapped in his dreams. “Just—just promise me you’re not going to send someone after her. No intimidations either. Peli’s wellbeing matters to me, she’s a friend.” 

Boba bit back a grin and it lightened some of the weight on Din’s chest. He had spent all day locked up in his quarters debating the best way to bring up his decision to visit Peli without Boba complicating things. The man cared little for his own safety, despite inheriting every one of the Hutt cartel’s enemies, including those still loyal to Bib Fortuna—Din was surprised to learn how brashly Boba had killed Jabba’s old majordomo. When it came to Din, Boba had developed an obsessive paranoia that became the butt of many jokes for Fennec. Din had confronted her one day. “I don’t claim to speak Boba Fett but if I had to guess, he’s hoping when you become king of your planet, he’d finally be welcomed there like his father was,” Fennec said and her response had left Din awake several nights in a row, contemplating the burden of the Mand’alor. 

“Fine, I won’t bother her but make sure she’s not babbling away about the kid or you at Chalmun’s,” Boba said, kneading the balls of Fennec’s feet. 

Din rolled his eyes. 

***

Traveling from Dune Sea to Mos Eisley took Din several hours on a speeder, which left his back stiff and his hips sore. Moving around without beskar’gam eased the strain on his joints while the lack of a flight suit stopped his skin from chafing. He travelled light but still carried a couple of blasters tucked away in his leather belt holsters and a hunting knife concealed in his boots. It was the only way to stop Boba from sending a pair of armed guards on his tail. 

As he walked into Hangar 3-5, he found the docking bay empty and the unoccupied landing pad made the knots in his chest tighten. Din remembered the first time the Razor Crest was cleared to land in the hangar: Grogu was still a stranger, a stowaway whom Din avoided beyond keeping him fed and healthy. Being on the run from the Imps and the Guild had pushed Din’s already frayed nerves to the edge—he had hoped Sorgan could’ve been a sanctuary, both for him and the kid, but fate had other plans. 

He had come to Tatooine in search of a distraction and to earn credits; en route, Din learned how expensive it was to care for a child. While he had learned to survive on bare necessities, as part of his culture and his religion, Grogu required food and naps every few hours while his clothes fared poorly under his small but sharp claws. Now, the Crest was gone, and so was Grogu. 

The pit droids spotted Din in the middle of reminiscing from his spot on the landing pad. They came running towards him, beeping with excitement and waving their spanners. The droids stopped on their tracks in front of Din and looked around the hangar in search of the ship—one of them tilted its head to the side and beeped in confusion. Another droid whirred and dropped its spanner on the floor. The third one stood with its metallic hands on its hips, its round sensor fixed on Din as if waiting for an explanation on why he had shown up without a ship. 

In his few encounters with Peli’s droids, Din had never seen them as excited by his presence. He found the helper droids troublesome despite their well-meaning intentions and only trusted them after Peli had personally guaranteed that they wouldn’t wreck the Crest in their attempts to fix it. Din still felt uneasy around droids, especially larger ones which reminded him of the darktroopers that occupied many of his nightmares in recent months. In all of his dreams, they always took Grogu away and left him for dead, with his skull bashed inside the dented beskar helmet. 

“Can I help you, Mister?” 

Din turned to see Peli emerge from the building. She wore the same brown leather coverall with a blue undershirt as the last time they met. Her hair, still fuzzy, had grown longer, much like Din’s. Her expression morphed from curiosity to a frown as she looked around the hangar, similarly puzzled by the lack of a ship as her droids. Peli narrowed her eyes at Din as her grip on her spanner tightened. “What do you want?” She said without the usual welcoming warmth in her voice. 

Shocked, Din took a step back. It hadn’t been that long since he came to her, searching for directions to Mos Pelgos in the hopes of finding another Mandalorian. Her face had lit up brighter than a thousand suns when she saw Grogu and fussed over the kid like a doting aunt. It occurred to Din that Peli hadn’t seen him without the beskar’gam before and Grogu wasn’t there to help her connect the dots—and, the twin blasters that Boba had insisted he carried with him were visible on his hips. Din held up his hands in the hopes that she’d realise he meant her no harm. “Peli, it’s me. It’s Din,” he said. 

Her grip remained on the spanner as she looked at him, unfazed. “How do you know my name? Who are you? You have three seconds to answer that,” she said. In his periphery, Din noticed Peli’s helper droids creeped closer towards him, holding their spanners, as they waited for her signal to attack. Pointing a blaster at Peli wasn’t an option Din was ready to consider and even if he could dodge the first two droids, the third one was out of his line of sight. Instinct told Din it was behind him, ready to strike if Peli gave the word. With panic rising in his chest, Din blurted out: “It’s me, I’m the Mandalorian. You—you adore Grogu. The child. The green child. Peli, it’s me.” 

Peli drew her lips into a taut line and as Din spoke, recognition flickered in her eyes before she heaved out a lengthy sigh. As she put her spanner down, the droids followed and stepped back from Din. “Dank farrik,” Peli said, softly thumping her chest. “Do ya have any idea how you scared me, Mister?” She paused and gave him a once over. “What happened to you? Don’t answer that, what happened to your ship and where is the little womp rat?” 

Din let out the breath he was holding in as he closed the gap between them in a few, long strides and pulled Peli into an embrace. He didn’t know why he did that but the weight on his chest lightened further when she patted his back and said, with the usual warmth in her voice that Din had grown accustomed to, “All right, all right, I’ve got all night and Chalmun’s got a table with our name on it, let’s go.” 

***

Chalmun's was packed to the brim when Din and Peli arrived. The dim-lit tavern had a reputation for frequent outbreaks of violence, frequented by misfits, smugglers, and bounty hunters. Din used to be a regular patron in his younger days when he was part of Ranzar Malk’s crew, before the Guild came calling. Memories from those days filled Din with shame and left him with guilt that he had spent decades atoning. Peli muscled her way through the crowd and slipped the droid bartender a few hundred credits; within minutes, a table was cleared for them, its previous occupants dragged out of the cantina by the bouncer. 

Once they were seated, a waitress droid brought them cups of ardees. Peli pushed one of the cups towards Din and said, “Drink up. I can tell you need one to calm those nerves and then you’re gonna tell me everything and get it out of your system.” Even if Din wanted to say no, he knew he couldn’t. The decision to seek out Peli had been motivated by Din’s need for absolution, something only she had the capacity to provide. Fennec wasn’t religious and someone like Boba would’ve been seen by the Covert as the antithesis of what made a Mandalorian—their opinions couldn’t give Din what he needed. Peli knew religion even if she didn’t have one. He hoped she’d understand he didn’t become a heretic without cause, that his decisions had been influenced by something bigger than his religion. The sanctity of life, the life of a child, outweighed the sanctity of his devotion. Sighing, Din emptied one of the cups in a handful of quick gulps, wincing as the sharp, bitter ardees burned the back of his throat. 

“I broke Creed,” Din said, clearing his throat. He reached for another cup; the less sober he was, the easier it’d be to confess. “Took my helmet off, my armour. When I did it, I thought it’d mean something. I thought I was doing it to save the kid, and, I was but once I took it off—” He ran a hand over his face. 

“You weren’t sure you wanted to put it back on. You hesitated,” Peli said. She pushed another cup towards him and reached out to grab his wrist. “What happened to the kid? Is he—” She hesitated, unable to voice out her thoughts as she looked away from Din. He knew she tried to comprehend his unexpected arrival, without his armour, without his ship, and without the kid.

He shook his head and put her mind at ease. “He’s alive. He’s just—I found his people and sent him off with them,” Din said, weighing his words. Though he trusted Boba with his life, he didn’t trust the other man’s level of paranoia, heightened by a lifetime of violence and backstabbing. The last thing Din wanted was for Peli to get caught in the crossfire. “His name’s Grogu.”

Peli doted on the name as she repeated it. That was all they had left of the kid—his name and the memories he had made with them. “It’s cute for a little womp-rat. Where did ya leave him?” 

Din shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.” Peli looked like she debated whether to berate Din for letting the kid go without knowing where he was being sent to. But when she spoke, her voice sounded soft and filled with understanding. “You think the kid is safe with his people?” She asked. 

“I do. He’s safer with them than he’s with me,” Din said. The more Peli knew about the remnants of the Empire and the Jedi, the more danger she’d be in. Ignorance would keep her safe, Din reasoned. “I’ve been on Tatooine for a while now.” The confession earned him a surprised stare, but she said nothing more. He gulped down another cup of ardees, experiencing the same burning sensation in his throat. Din leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. He felt lightheaded. “I’ve been staying with Boba Fett.” 

“Ha,” Peli said, thumping her fist on the table. “I knew it. He’s one tough nut, I knew he was too stubborn to die.” She looked around the packed tavern and said, “He used to be a regular here, when he still hunted for the Empire. Polite manners, never started fights, but he was lethal in ending them.” Din hadn’t expected her to know about Boba nor had he known that his friend used to be a regular at Chalmun’s—Din assumed a spaceport cantina like that would somehow be beneath Boba. 

“Have you ever met him?” Din asked. 

Peli nodded. “Once. His ship needed repairing. He tipped well. What’s he doing these days? Word on the street was that he had died in the Sarlacc pit out in the Dune Sea.” Din smiled. Boba hated the fact that people on Tatooine had come to accept that the legendary bounty hunter Boba Fett met his end being slowly digested by a sarlacc. He shook his head and said, “He’s taken over the Hutt cartel. Business is booming, it’s keeping him busy.” 

“And what are you doing with him?” Peli asked, without missing a beat. “You haven’t been doing anything illegal, have you? You’ve gotta set a better example for your young one in the company you keep.” She paused as the weight of her words sunk in. Peli looked embarrassed as she patted Din’s arm and promptly changed tact. “I have to be honest with you, I am a little surprised to see you without the armour. There’s a story in there somewhere—if you wanna get things off your chest. We’ve got all night.” 

Din straightened in his seat. The alcohol’s effects kicked in; his tunic felt warm and the thumping cacophony of voices and music in the tavern sounded distant, and the room spun whenever Din moved his head too fast. He peered at Peli and looked into her eyes, where he saw concern and genuine affection. Her soft gaze reminded Din of the last time he had seen his mother more than three decades ago, the same earnest look in her eyes that masked the unmistakable sadness. Why is Peli sad? The question echoed in his mind. She pities us. Look at us, we are nothing. We have been nothing, hiding out here in the sands of Tatooine while Mandalorians around the Galaxy are fighting for our honour, our Creed. “You think I’m pathetic,” Din said, in a barely audible whisper. 

“What?” Peli reached for one of the remaining cups and finished half of its content in record time. Smacking her lips, she said, “Of course not. But you have to admit, you’re a bit of a mess, and I don’t mean you being here, drunk on ardees. What happened?” The earnestness in her voice broke Din’s resolve and drowned Boba’s previous warning. He staggered up to his feet and pulled his chair closer to Peli and sank back down again. Leaning close, he said, “All right, Peli Motto, I’ll tell you everything.” 

***

By the time Din finished narrating the last details of his life, the tavern was almost empty. He had told her everything: from the days where he played with other children in the streets on Arvala-7 to the day he swore the Creed, the day he broke it for the first time, the day he had lost Grogu and the day he had found him only to send him away forever. Peli listened without interruption and the cups in front of them were all empty. Slouching on the table, Din struggled to keep his eyes open as he mumbled. “I am a bad, bad man. Couldn’t even save the Covert, they gave up everything for me and I paid them back by breaking Creed. Boba and Fennec expect me to be the king of Mandalore but I am not fit to be a Mandalorian. I want Bo-Katan to take the Darksaber but she won’t, she wants to fight me for it. Have you heard anything like that? It’s crazy, I am giving it to her but she just won’t take it.” Din burped. 

One of the waitress droids came over with a pitcher of water and Peli poured him a glass. “Drink up, Mister. Your brain’s turning into mush,” she said with a hint of her usual jovial nature. Din struggled and most of the water ended up drenching the front of his tunic. Taking matters into her own hands, Peli stood next to him and held Din’s hands steady as he sipped on the water. “Useless,” Din slurred. “Can’t even drink water and they want me to rule Mandalore. Crazy talks.” He heard Peli say something but her voice sounded distant—before he could comprehend, his world turned black. 

***

Din woke up with a stiff back and a throbbing headache. The mattress under him was hard and the vicinity smelled like jet fuel; but it was the clammy heat that forced him to crack open his eyes, only to be blinded by the daylight that flooded into the room. With a low groan, he made another attempt: Blinking his eyes open, Din slowly sat up. “Dank farrik,” he muttered as his stomach churned. Stumbling to his feet, Din made a desperate attempt to search for a bathroom. On his way, he tottered down a narrow hallway until it led him out into the hangar where he noticed a familiar ship docked on the landing pad. 

“What the—” Before he could finish that thought, Din vomited. He emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor and recoiled at the rancid smell. He heard the excited beeps from the helper droids that had come running to investigate the fuss. Before the droid got any closer, Din heard Peli’s voice in the distance, getting closer. “Hey! Leave him alone.” He heard footsteps and within moments, Peli had an arm around Din’s waist while he leaned on her. “Don’t worry about the mess, they’ll clean it up,” she said, guiding Din back into the building and to the room he had woken up in. After helping him climb into the bed again, Peli poured him a glass of water, which he accepted gratefully. His mouth still smelled like an unwashed bantha but the water helped quell some of the nausea. Din looked up at Peli and flashed an apologetic smile. “I am embarrassed,” he said, looking down at his lap. “I let myself go last night.” 

Peli snorted. “Oh quit your whining or you’ll rust,” she said, but Din heard the concern in her tone loud and clear. “So, you passed out and had to be carried home. Big deal.” Her gaze softened as she reached out to smoothen his fringes. She pushed them back with her fingers. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’ve felt worse,” Din said, looking out the window by the bed. From there, he could see the Slave I on the landing pad. “You called Boba?” 

“Nah, why would I do that? He was at the tavern when you passed out. He carried you back here. If he wasn’t there, I would’ve had to drag you home and you’d be covered in skid marks.” Peli gave him a soft nudge. “Don’t worry, I’ve sent him away for a while. I figured you didn’t need an overbearing ex-bounty hunter on your shoulders right now.” Din’s grin widened and he reached for her hands, holding them between his. 

“What would I do without you, Peli?” He asked.

She scoffed but her lips curled up into a smile. “Probably mope around some more. Now, you listen to me carefully, Mister,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You did what you had to, to protect the little womp-rat. If you didn’t break your Creed, he’d be lost to us. Those Empire buggers don’t care if it’s a child they’re hurting to get what they need, but we do. Even in a place like this, in the middle of all the scum and villainy that is Tatooine, there are lines we do not cross. That is what makes us different from the Empire. Remember that.” Peli caressed his cheeks. Din leaned into her touch, biting back the tears that threatened to well up. 

“From what you told me and what I have heard about your people, you are honourable folk. That’s the warrior way, isn’t it? The way it looks to me, taking your helmet off doesn’t make you any less deserving of being a Mandalorian. I mean you fought in that big hunk’o beskar all your life didn’t you? You fought for your people, you fought for strangers, heck you saved my life from that little punk buddy of yours, you took on the Empire just to save a kid and I don’t know about you, but I don’t know too many people who’d do that for people they don’t know.”

Din hung onto Peli’s every word as the tears rolled down his cheeks. Peli wiped them away as Din dug his nails into his palms to stop himself from sobbing. 

“I can’t say anything about your religion but if it doesn’t recognise what you’ve done, everyone that you’ve helped along the way, the lives that you’ve saved, then maybe it’s the religion that’s the problem. You’re a good man, with or without your rusty armour, one that I am proud to call my friend. And I know that wherever the kid is, he knows how much you’ve done for him. He’s gonna remember and I hope that one day, you’ll see him again.” 

Silence descended on the room as Din searched for the right words. After a lengthy pause, he said, “I don’t know if I can wear the armour again, Peli. It feels—I don’t know how to be someone other than who I have been.” 

“And who’s that?” 

Din closed his eyes. For weeks, he kept the beskar’gam and the Darksaber hidden out of sight because their presence was a cruel reminder of what he had sacrificed to protect Grogu, only to lose him in the end. He had given up the very fundamentals that made him, him, to protect that child and it had left him without a home, without a family, alone in a vast, uncaring galaxy. Except—he had Peli. She had dropped everything to spend the night listening to his drunken rambles. He had Boba and Fennec. They had followed him to the jaws of death once to rescue Grogu and he knew they’d follow him again, no questions asked. He had Grogu; the kid had faced his fears to save Din’s life. And the tribe—whoever survived the massacre in Nevarro—was lost somewhere in the galaxy, perhaps waiting for Din to find them again. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to the Creed than beskar’gam and perhaps now that Din had completed his task, of delivering Grogu to the Jedi, the road ahead could lead him to that discovery. 

Din smiled at Peli; his first, genuine smile in months, one that reached the creased corners of his eyes and made his brown orbs sparkle. “I am a Mandalorian.” 

[the-middle-grounds]

So now that I have energy and have rewritten this about 5 times!  Blind (and colorblind) Batfam!

*I tried to be as sensitive about how I wrote this since I’m not 100% familiar with the blind community (I know basic etiquette) so if I did something bad or inappropriate, send me an ask with where and what can be fixed!

BRUCE

Bruce’s occipital lobe was severely damaged during the murder of his parents, and he was blinded as a result.

He got Ace, a service dog, to help him with the trauma, as well as helping him get around whenever he wasn’t in the mood to be with Alfred.  The two of them are close.

Bruce eventually started hearing about echolocation in humans, and started to learn about that and even using it.  He’s so proficient in it, he doesn’t even really need Ace anymore, but there’s not a chance in hell he’s getting rid of his best bud.

People know Bruce Wayne is blind, and they try to use it to their advantage.  Bruce is smarter than that, and is very much aware of how shallow people are.

Most people don’t know that Batman is blind, however.  Catwoman is one of the notable people who know, and whenever she’s being playful, she likes to sneak up on him and surprise him.

The Justice League also know, but don’t treat him any differently because why would they?  Dr. Mid-Nite exists for one.

DICK

Dick lost his vision when Hayley’s Circus was set on fire.  While escaping, he was hit by debris and blinded.  By the time he’s a young adult, the scarring is pretty much gone.

In an effort to help out Dick, Bruce helped developed a device that could pinpoint noises.  Dick then proceeded to thank Bruce by using it to get into trouble and play hide-and-seek.

Bruce eventually stopped using Dick as a guinea pig, and offered up the tech to the public.  Dick still kept his, however; even when he left to join the Teen Titans.

Since Dick likes to drop several dozen feet off buildings, Bruce actually shed a few tears when Tim gave him more advanced echolocation tech.  Dick will never admit how many times he miscalculated because of rain.

Bruce has seen his hospital bills; he knows.

JASON

Jason was born blind, and since he was a street kid with not so great parents, had to learn to get around by himself.  He was pretty good at it too, and was stealing the Batmobile’s tires when Batman arrived.  Jason tried to beat him up, and he made a real good effort too.

Jason got used to using the tech after a while, though he prefers only using it for fighting.

When he came back to life, he ended up becoming better at hand-to-hand without the use of technology.  But he does use it for accuracy whenever he aims.

People have lied to Jason and told him he’s put his helmet on the wrong way around.  These same people have gotten said helmet pelted in the direction of their face.

TIM

Tim and Cassandra both have a degenerative eye disease.  When Tim found out Batman’s identity, he insisted that Bruce take him on because they weren’t too close from different.

Tim later ended up improving on Bruce’s tech, and even customized some for the others.

Tim eventually went completely blind, but he’s adjusted just fine.

His favorite thing to do is get carried by Kon for a flight.  That and doing a Dick Grayson and gliding off buildings.

Tim is very much still tech savvy, working off muscle memory and occasional assistance whenever he needs it.  Admittedly, it’s pretty rarely.  But you will never see him ask Barb or Steph for anything involving colors.

BATGIRLS

Barbara has monochrome colorblindness, and Bruce didn’t realize it until he realized she kept describing colors by how dark they were.  This led to a bunch of reminiscing about colors, and Dick even joined in to describe colors to her.

Whenever Bruce pisses her off, Barbara realigns things ever so slightly.  Bruce could care less, but Dick will trip over something and play it off like it was a stunt.

After her incident with Joker, Barbara took to the moniker of Oracle, and her colorblindness was hardly a hold back for her.

Cassandra did manage to retain some of her eyesight.  As it stands, she can see somewhat, but it’s all pretty blurry.  She wears glasses most of the time, but prefers fighting with the tech Tim designed.

Because they can’t use sign language with Cass, she had a rough time learning to fit in.  Eventually, they learned to communicate through morse code and occasional fingerspelling.

Even though Cass learned to speak, she still prefers morse code with her friends and family.

No one (except Barbara) actually realized what form of blindness Steph had until she asked Barbara if waffles were pink.  It turned out she had  Tritanopia.

Steph and Barbara tried out colorblindness glasses once and Barbara lost her shit.

“I THOUGHT THIS WAS PURPLE!”  “I don’t know what to tell you except that that’s 110% dark blue.”

Cass has to tell the other two which colors they’re looking at whenever they hang out.  Specifically when they start debating colors.

DUKE

Duke, like Jason, was also born blind.  He’s also the only one who uses a cane for when he walks.

Unlike the others, however, Duke doesn’t need to use any external devices to see; his powers work well with sound and allow him to move around just fine.  (I know his powers focus on light, which would require him to see, but I changed it slightly for this AU.)

Rather than ‘seeing’ in color/definition, Duke perceives shapes and figures in something like a bunch of different parts of sound altogether.

Duke has the ability to ‘steal the light’ out of people’s eyes, and temporarily blind them so they’re on the same playing field.

People typically know when Duke is coming because of the sound of his cane moving around.  But he once scared Bruce because he didn’t use it and Bruce didn’t hear him coming.

Duke is still a great writer, though he obviously writes in braille.  His teachers love him.

Some people don’t even realize Duke is blind unless they watch his eyes; they’re unfocused and occasionally ‘wander’.

DAMIAN

Damian lost his sight as a young child.  Talia was regretful, and put a lot of attention on Damian to help him.  Damian disliked the babying behavior, and felt as though Ra’s was disappointed in him.

Talia sent Damian to Bruce because she knew about how he had learned to adjust to his disability.

Damian was LIVID.  He hated everything, he would throw fits, and he hated every- oh hey is that a dog.

Damian got Titus, and over time, began to settle into the family.

Damian initially refused the echolocation tech, but took it because it was helpful for fighting.  Over time, he learned how to work with and without it.

Damian once offhandedly admitted to Jon that he couldn’t remember colors, and Jon sat with him for over an hour describing colors.  

Eventually, Damian started getting into abstract forms of art and presented them to everyone.  Since he couldn’t see what he drew, he took to 3D pieces for his family and friends.  No one even cares what they look like, they all love everything he makes.

Jason is jealous that Damian got a dog but he didn’t.

MISC

They keep playing hide-and-seek and Bruce is tired.

Except for Barbara and Steph, everyone is very sensitive to sound, and it is most definitely their biggest weakness.  Meanwhile, Barb and Steph keep getting blinded by flash bangs and other bright things.

Damian keeps sneaking animals into the house because he knows they won’t see it.  What he keeps forgetting is that roosters scream in the morning, and they can hear that.

In-family fighting is an absolutely insane event.  Things have been thrown and people have fallen down things that shouldn’t have been fallen down.  Dick once tried to pull apart a fight between Tim and Damian and he honestly can’t tell if he slapped Tim or if Damian did it.

They can all tell each others footsteps apart easily, and can even tell who’s arguing even if their in the Batcave and the argument is in the attic.

Someone keeps moving containers out of the typical places, and the finger pointing is always at optimal level.  Alfred is just as frustrated.

Bruce is tired.

They also save a lot on electricity!