#fluffy din

[cyaninbb]

Best father and son of the galaxy is back!!

[omaano]

For your ployam drawings, could I suggest 2-D for Paz/Din/Luke?? Luke loves his boyfriends and is glad they're getting along (finally.)

It's a face ship of mine and one that I love writing for! 💌

I didn’t feel like figuring out how far I should have tilted their heads to make them touch in armor so I thought I’d bring back my worst nightmare and draw some Mando helmets for you! (It was actually because I didn’t want to pick a face for Paz 🫣) Thanks for asking! ❤️

Help me get back into sketching through some of these polyam/platonic pose prompts :3 (I'm still slowly doing these, they help powering through this little artistic crisis I'm suffering rn)

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

AFS: Deleted Scene

a/n: I'm testing a new thing here. There are a few scenes that I wanted to include in the story but there wasn't a good spot to fit it in and keep my plotlines at a good pace. SO, I will be posting the occasional deleted scene! They'll typically be short little drabbles that I post sporadically and I'll always list a number to kind of tell you where it sits in the 'AFS' timeline lol

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: none, just pure fluffy fluff

Word Count: 1,101

Summary: Grogu is an artist and he does not restrict himself to a single medium. Inspired by this post/art.

.

#4.5: HE IS A QUICK ONE

.

You hummed a song under your breath while cleaning the kitchen. Mando had told you time and time again that house work wasn’t necessarily part of your job description. Though you didn’t think was accurate. You didn’t know a lot about the responsibilities of a nanny, but if you were a betting woman you’d put credits on housework falling under the umbrella. So, despite him telling you to leave it be, you didn’t. Even if it wasn’t the job of the nanny to clean the house, you lived here as well which meant it was in part your responsibility as a roommate, at the very least. Mando could argue otherwise all he wanted. It’s not like he could stop you while he worked.

While Grogu napped, you took the opportunity to clean what you could. 

The sound of a quiet giggle made you pause. You rinsed the soap off your hands, leaving the few dishes you had left to clean in the sink, and used the kitchen towel you rested on your shoulder to dry your hands. Another giggle drifted from the hall. Grogu must have woken up from his nap. You chuckled to yourself and tossed the towel aside to go find him. Usually the boy called out for you when he woke up.

Down the hall, you spotted Grogu and it took you a second to recognize what the boy was keeping himself busy with. He stood crayon in hand as he worked on his masterpiece⏤ the masterpiece he was drawing on the wall.

“Grogu!” You cried, startled.

Grogu simply turned to look at you with his little toothy grin. “See!”

He must have woken from his nap a good while ago because the kid had made quite the progress. The entire wall was decorated in his scribbled drawings in various colors. You spotted multiple pictures of his father and him. You recognized the other colored Mandalorian that filled many of his pictures, with the dark haired person beside him, and a few other familiar faces. Peli. Cara. Karga. Your eyes landed on a scribbled drawing of what looked like you with Grogu in your arms. It was honestly the cutest most precious thing in the world and your heart would be overflowing with love if it wasn’t for the location of the art.

“Oh, Grogu, why?” You breathed.

“Good?” He asked.

You gave him a sheepish smile. “Well, you drew it all so good, buddy, but…the wall…”

Grogu’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “Ih.” He motioned for you to follow him with one hand and you trailed after him into Mando’s bedroom. Grogu pointed to the wall where you had taped a few of his art pieces. “See!”

“Right. But that’s paper that I…” You winced. You held your arms out to scoop the little artist up. He looked immensely proud of himself and you hated the idea of scolding him. “We can’t draw on the walls anymore though, alright?” If Grogu understood or agreed he made no motion to show it. You sighed and tickled the boy’s belly, mumbling under your breath. “I wonder how attached your dad is to his walls.”

Mando’s voice called out from the foyer and you grimaced. The hallway was still decorated in crayon. You had tried to wipe some of it away, but the moment you got near it Grogu whined at you to stop. Apparently he wanted his father to admire the work. You hurried to meet Mando in the foyer before he could get any further.

“Hi there.” You held your hands out to stop him.

“Hey.” He greeted curiously.

You forced a grin that you prayed didn’t look sheepish. “So, how was work?”

“Good…” Mando paused. “How was your day?”

“Uh, interesting.” You scrunched your nose. “We may have had a little…incident.” Mando stiffened and you quickly shook your head and hands at him. “No, no. Grogu is fine. He’s more than fine. Grogu is very proud of himself.”

“Oh.” Mando replied.

“Buir, k’olar! K’olar!” Grogu bounced behind you and waved for him to follow. You motioned to the child with your arms and Mando gave you one last confused tilt of his head before listening to Grogu’s pleads. You walked behind him nervously. When the three of you entered the hall, the mischievous artist pointed to the wall covered in crayon. “See!”

Mando stayed stock still for a second and you blurted a panicked apology, “I am so sorry, Mando. I thought he was napping and I was washing dishes and I heard his little, evil giggle and when I found him he was drawing on the wall⏤ I tried to clean it up but he wouldn't let me⏤”

Your words were interrupted with the sound of a full bellied laugh. Mando was laughing loudly and freely. There had been moments of chuckles and breathy laughs, but this was the first time you had seen him so carefree in front of you. A small smile curled onto your features in admiration. Mando knelt down to hold out his arms so Grogu could jump into them.

“Good?” Grogu asked.

“Very nice, ad’ika.” Mando praised him. “I’ll send a picture to Boba and Fennec. I think they’d really love to see it.” You crossed your arms and watched in amusement as the boy pointed at each piece of the picture to babble to him an explanation. Mando nodded and hummed along⏤ paying full attention. When Grogu had reached the end, Mando ruffled the top of his head. “Alright, womp rat, I saw your toys in the living room still. Why don’t you go clean up?”

Grogu chirped an acknowledgement and waddled away. Mando turned to face you and you shook your head. “I hung some of his pictures up on your bedroom wall and I guess he decided to cut out the middleman and get right to it.”

Mando chuckled. “It’s alright. Of all the messes I expect him to get into this is fairly mild.”

“I am sorry about your wall though. I should’ve been paying closer attention.”

“It’s just a wall.” Mando shrugged. “A boring one too. At least now I don’t have to bother with decorations. Cara always complained my house was too plain.” You laughed lightly. “Besides, you should see some of the things he’s gotten away with while I was actively watching him.”

“Oh yeah?” You teased. “He is a quick one.”

“You have no idea.” Mando sighed. “Over dinner, remind me to tell you about the Frog Lady’s eggs.”

“The what lady’s what?”

mando'a translations

Buir: Parent (father) /// Ad'ika: little one /// K'olar: Come here

tag list:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @banana-lol @daybleedsintonightfall11 @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @harriedandharassed @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet @liadamerondjarin @fallinallinmendes @missdicaprio

[mdawgswizzleinthehizzle]

i knew this looked familiar.

[beskarfrog]

moonrise on tatooine

[jake-g-lockley]

IVE GOT PROMPTS BABYYYY

[lothcatthree]

“'I was just introducing myself, sir. My name is Din,' the disgustingly attractive man speaks up and Luke feels the heat on his cheeks intensify with the sound of his husky voice. Luke suddenly feels extremely exposed in his scant clothing and he subconsciously pulls down at the hem of his shirt. Din’s eyes track the movement before returning up to his face as if nothing happened. Fuck. Luke looks up at him again, though he feels his eyes struggle as if he’s looking at the sun."

-

The one where Luke and Leia are President Padme's kids. Luke has a mudhorn soulmate mark and thinks he's destined to be single forever. Cue his handsome new bodyguard that throws everything Luke thought he knew out the window.

[spacelatinos4life]

Pedro Pascal on the Challenge of Filming Mandolorian S3: "It's mostly a voice over gig"

Pedro Pascal dicusses his recent roles in 'The Last of Us' and 'The Mandalorian, teases his character in the upcoming sequel to 'Gladiator' and talks about his habit of spoiling his work to Uber drivers. | Variety (20 June 2023)

God, I love him so much!!!!!! My boy is so pure, my heart can’t fucking handle!!! He truly deserves the whole fucking world. 💜

[elfan22]

Beautiful Unknown Words

(Credit to gif owner)

~~~

Beauty and the Beast AU

Summary:

Mando studying in the library, catching up on personal studies and you learn a bit about his culture.

Din Djarin/ the Mandalorian x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: fluff, hehe kissing, words in Mando'a, Din in Phantom of the Opera type clothing (I go feral for this style on men), speaking in Mando'a. I made this inspired by if Din was the Beast from Beauty and the Beast and now my friend wants me to write a whole ass fic about it so... We'll see 😏

~~~

Your footsteps echo through the halls as you make your way to the library, pushing the giant door open slowly and wincing when the old wood creaks loudly.

You've been looking for Mando for ages, making your daily rounds around the castle as you search for him. The library was your last idea as to where he could be.

He does this sometimes... Disappears without saying anything or giving any clue to his whereabouts. It's as if he trusts you now... which he does, but he's refusing to admit it. The Mandalorian trusts that you won't run away from him. In fact, the idea of it doesn't cross his mind as much as it should, especially since you're technically being held here against your will.

No, Mando was content with your presence in his once-empty castle. What had once been a ginormous husk of what his life once was, the castle now seemed to glow softly whenever you entered the room. He had to rip his stare away whenever he caught himself, returning to whatever he had been doing before your arrival.

You let out a small huff of air as you push the door to the library open even further, peeking inside and giving it a quick scan.

"... Mando?"

You can hear the rustling of papers in the distance, as well as the scratch of pen against parchment, so you take a tentative step into the room.

Slowly closing the door behind you, you start to walk across the wooden floorboards as quietly as you can, wincing when they creak under your weight.

"Mando?"

The rustling of papers seem to pause for a moment, as if he had heard you but wasn't sure if he was hearing things. And then it resumed, scribbling faster than he was before.

Peeking around a bookshelf, you watch the Mandalorian sitting at the large table that stretched down the aisle. Papers are strewn about, covered in scratches of writing. Books are laid out and open as well, tabs decorating the pages with his notes.

He's paused in his writing, staring at a page in the book in front of him with a look of fierce concentration. Dark brown curls hung over his face as he hunched over it, observing the words written with great interest. His brows are knitted together as his dark eyes scan the pages. The man taps his pencil against his lip, along his tamed mustache, while a small frown of focus pulls at his lips.

Leaning against the bookshelf, your eyes seen to devour him as he reads. The sleeves of his ruffled shirt are rolled up to his elbows, careful not to get ink or markings on his clothing. The Mandalorian lowers his pencil from its position against his lip, scribbling something into the margins of the book in front of him.

He's in such a focused state, you're worried you're going to give him a scare if you move or say anything. You don't see him without his armor alot, and he's normally jumpier when he's without it.

How do I get his attention without scaring him?

"Whatcha doin?"

Mando startles, as you knew he would, his pencil leaving a stray mark on one of the pieces of parchment. His dark eyes fly up to meet yours in a panic, but they seem to settle back into calm once he's registered your presence.

"Did you have to sneak up on me?" Mando chastises, shaking his head in exasperation.

"I literally called your name multiple times," you smirk, making your way over to his side and peering down at the papers. "So, I'll repeat my question... Whatcha doin?"

"I'm..." You swear the slightest shade of red appears in his face. "I'm studying."

"Studying what?"

"Everything... Anything..." Mando brushes the curls out of his face, leaning back in his chair as he looks up at you.

"Yes, but what specifically at this time?" you tease.

"Language. And culture."

"Which language?"

"My... You are interested, aren't you?" His head cocks to the side, just as he always does whenever he wears the helmet, and you can feel a blush starting to spread over your face.

"I... I just... You were so invested and..." You fall silent, fiddling with a strand of your hair as a nervous habit. "... I'm sorry for interrupting you."

You're expecting him to be angry, just as he used to be when you had first arrived to his home.

But he just smiles, gesturing to the chair to his right with a nod of his head.

"Would you care to join me, cyar'ika?"

"Really?" You brighten at his invitation and the nickname, glancing at the chair as you let go of your strand of hair. He still hasn't told me what that means...

"Of course. Go ahead and choose anything," he says warmly, motioning to the endless bookshelves that surround him.

"Oh... Okay!" You spin around, heading further into the library as you make a beeline for your desired read.

"Oh..." Mando watches as you go, leaning forward to see you disappear behind the shelves. He chuckles, shaking his head in amusement at your quick departure and excitement.

You slide down an aisle, your boots skidding on the wooden floor as you slide to a halt in front of a beautiful display of bookspines. Your fingers trace the edges, murmuring the titles to yourself as you pick through. Beaming as you snatch up a book, you start to make your way back to Mando in a hurry, but skid to a halt when your eyes glance over a particular section of the library.

Languages.

You stand in between the aisles, staring at the rows and rows of books before slowly walking into one section. Your interest has spiked, and your eyes devour the varying names of languages and sentences written in different culture.

Rodian... Jawa...

There.

You pull the title from the shelf carefully, admiring it's worn leather cover, and start to flip through it as you walk back to Mando. The cover and pages are worn with time and use. Mando must've spent much time flipping through it in his studies, and you can even see some of his scribbles in the margins as you flip through.

Some were new, dark and bold, while others were faded and blurred from time and the rubbing of pages.

Settling down in the seat next to Mando, you set the books in a neat stack in front of you and start to flip through the first book you had grabbed off the shelf.

He looks up from his work, brushing specks off of his papers. His eyes sparkle with interest as he tilts his head to try to read the spines of the books you've chosen. You pull them closer to you, smirking as you tease him.

"Nosy much?"

"Hey, they're my books," he muses, to which you chuckle and look back at your book. "What'd you choose?"

"Well, I snagged Romeo and Juliet..."

"Romance," Mando scoffs, shaking his head.

"Hey! Give it a chance!"

"I'm not surprised that's what you chose," he snorts, looking back down at his work.

"I'm sorry?!" you cock your head, slightly offended by his remark.

"Well, all the heartache and... pining... and .... ugh..." Mando makes a face, mimicking a shiver running through his body.

"Rude," you frown. "It's a lot more than that, you know."

"I'm scared that if we continue down this conversation that I'll end up with a broken nose," Mando smirks, gesturing to the other book. "What else did you get?"

"Oh..." You set aside the romance novel, running your hand over the beautiful cover of the other book in your selection. "Mando'a."

The Mandalorian seems to freeze, his eyes flicking back and forth from the cover of the book to you. A mixture of confusion and surprise clouds his dark eyes, and eventually they train on you with an intense stare.

"Why... Why did you choose that?" he says hoarsely, clearing his throat.

"Well..." you sigh with a small smile. "You're always mumbling in the language and I never know what you're saying... And... well, it's your native language, right?... So, I wanted to learn."

Mando just stares at you, his mouth slightly ajar as he processes your words.

"You..." Your brow knits together in concern. "You okay?"

"Yes..." Mando shakes himself out of his stare, nervously glancing back at his work and flipping through the pages.

"Hm," you murmur, not believing him. "Okay." And you open the book on Mando'a, skimming the definitions and the pronunciations of certain words. You're too nervous to try to say them out loud, so you make a mental note to take the book back to your chambers later on.

Minutes tick by of you skimming the pages. Bits and pieces of Mandalorian culture litters the pages of the book, adding emphasis and explanation to certain words and phrases. There are even illustrations: one of a giant beast that was labeled as a mythosoar, and another of a hooded being wielding a blade made of light.

Jetiise.

You scan the page, intrigued by the weapon in the hooded person's hand, but Mando's constant glances your way is becoming very distracting.

You glance up to meet his eye, but Mando quickly looks away and back to his work, flipping a page to appear busy. Chuckling under your breath, you continue to read, observing the details in the art.

Multiple pages were dedicated to these... jetiise, and you eagerly started to read. The book depicted the warriors to have magical powers, and that there were multiple conflicts that occurred between the Mandalorians and the "Jedi". A war between the two groups inspired the arsenal of Mandalorian armor and weapons that could combat the Jedis' weapons of light and power.

You turn the page, eyes widening at the image that lays there. A man, dressed in darkness and armor and crimson, stood over a group of Jedi with a pointed staff in his hand. Words written in Mando'an symbols decorate the page, except for one phrase.

Mandalore the Great.

"That book holds the history of my people, as well as our language."

Mando's words startle you from your intense concentration, and you look up at him in shock.

He's watching the way you've hunched over the book with your chin in your palm as you read.

"It's been kept in this castle for many years... And is one of the last of it's kind," he says softly, eyes flicking to the etchings of symbols into the paper.

"Does it have the whole history?" you murmur, looking back down at the drawings of men and women in armor.

"No," Mando frowns. "No, it doesn't. My people are very few now. We were massacred."

"Oh.. oh, I'm so sorry," you whisper, looking up at him sadly. Guilt claws at your chest and you start to close the book. "And here I am... Reading about them and... I'm so sorry, Mando, I-"

"It's okay." Mando rests his hand over your own, and you stare at it as red colors your cheeks. "You didn't know... And it was a very long time ago. You have every right to read that." He shrugs. "And besides, it'll be interesting to see you try to speak Mando'a."

"Is that a challenge?" you tease with narrowed eyes. "You think I can't do it?"

"No," Mando chuckles, shaking his head as he closes his books and rises from his chair. "I do, cyar'ika. I just know it'll be entertaining to watch as you learn."

He puts his books under his arm, making his way around the table as he departs. "Have fun, mesh'la," Mando says warmly, offering you a smile that makes his eyes sparkle as he turns to leave the library.

You feel frozen as he leaves, his smile and words shaking you to your core.

Maker, I need to know what he's saying.

You glance back down at the book, flipping through it to find what you're looking for.

The words he had just uttered stand out to you from a page on names and other random phrases, and you trace them with your finger as you search for the terms you desire to know.

"Cyar'ika..." you murmur to yourself. "Cyar'ika... is that spelled with a c? I'm not-"

You pause when you see it.

"Cyar'ika... used for endearment and care... Direct translation..."

You blink, reading it one more time.

"Darling... or... sweetheart." The words leave your lips breathlessly as you read it over and over again.

You rip through the pages, looking for the other word that Mando has used so warmly upon his departure.

"Mesh'la..."

Your eyes start to water as you read the meaning, glancing up to stare at where Mando had disappeared. Shoving back your chair, you sprint for the door, not even processing what you're doing as you move. Your boots echo through the halls as you fly out of the doors of the library, skidding to a halt for a moment as you glance around to find Mando.

For the past few of months that you've lived in this castle, you've found yourself growing fond of the damaged Mandalorian, slowly understanding that his initial harshness was out of habit from his twisted past and not because of you.

And that fondness has grown into feelings... Feelings that you can't even begin to describe. Feelings you've never felt before.

Everytime you merely thought of him, warmth would flood your body. Everytime he spoke your name, you could feel yourself start to blush. Whenever his hand brushed over your own, or moved to stand close, you had to fight the urge to take his hand into your own or pull him into an embrace.

You had tried to shove it away, telling yourself that there's no way that you could love this man... He was a warrior... stone-hearted... Someone who kept his heart locked away inside a cage of ribs just as he's kept himself locked in this castle.

But now... After what he's just said... You can't deny it any longer.

"Mando!" You cry out when you see him down the hall, and he turns to look at you with an expression of confusion and surprise as your hurried footsteps echo through the halls.

You must look insane. Your hair whipping behind you and your dress doing the same.

"What are you-"

His words are interrupted when you ram into him, grabbing his face with your hands and bringing your lips to his.

His body freezes, and you can hear the thud of books hitting the floor as he drops them in shock.

Your heart starts to falter as he just stands there, and you start to pull away.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he returns the kiss. You can't help but sigh as Mando kisses you with both passion and tenderness. His hand travels up to hold your face while his other arm holds you against him tightly. You gasp when he deepens the kiss, his hand traveling to the nape of your neck as he groans your name against your lips.

Your own hands travel from his face to his hair, pulling him close so that there's no space between you.

You break away to breathe, resting your forehead against his as your heaving chests remained pressed together.

"You..." You're fighting to say your words without sounding like a fish gulping for air. "You called me... mesh'la."

"Yes," Mando whispers, his dark eyes shining. He sounds just as breathless as you and he leans in to press another soft kiss against your lips.

"Mesh'la... and... cyar'ika..."

"Maker, I love hearing you speak Mando'a," Mando breathes, his voice full of emotion.

"Did you mean it? Did you mean it, Mando?"

"Yes. Every word." His calloused hand caresses your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing your cheek bone. "And my name is Din."

"... Din." You blink up at him, processing what's happening.

"Yes, cyar'ika," Din chuckles, his dark curls falling into his eyes. "Din."

"... Hi, Din..." you whisper, almost timidly.

"Hello, my dear... so, I take it that book paid off," Din teases, eyes sparkling.

"I'm afraid it did," you giggle, pressing another kiss to his lips. "I must learn more."

"I can teach you, if you'd like..."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Din... I want to stay... Here... With you, in the castle..." you whisper nervously.

A giant smile decorates his face as he swoops down to kiss you again, taking your breath away.

"I want nothing more, mesh'la."

[jomiddlemarch]

miracle

You woke at quarter-light, the smaller moon peeping over the horizon. Grogu slept in his cradle-basket, softly chittering in his dreaming. The walls of the etxea were thick, the air cool, not cold. You’d slept on your side, his hand resting on your belly; you’d come to Din pregnant, but the child would belong to both of you, as Grogu had become his. It was the Way or it might only be Din, who cared without needing to possess. His lips kissed your shoulder, the side of your throat, his nose tickled your earlobe.

Your world was made of miracles.

[thefrogdalorian]

With Every Atom of His Being

Din Djarin's increasing closeness to Bo-Katan Kryze causes an accidental slip of his tongue during a picnic the two share with Grogu during one of Bo-Katan's visits to Nevarro. Din's choice of language has profound consequences, not just for the two of them but also the child they love so much.

From Discord prompt No. 405 Bo and Grogu bonding cutely, melting Din's heart. Din slips up and says "Your mom" to Grogu instead of Bo's name- can be in front of Bo or not.

Link to read on AO3.

[kaira-diaries]

Chapter One: A Senators Retreat

Part One of: The Heiress's Dilemma

Note: this story is over on Wattpad under kairadiaries

Warnings: threats of death/attempted SA

story summary: Elara Voss, a former galactic senator, finds herself at the heart of a crisis that threatens her family's legacy and the very essence of their honor. As she grapples with the fallout of her decline in the political world, she's forced into hiding with a mysterious bounty hunter. Together, they embark on a perilous journey to retrieve a relic that holds the key to Voss's redemption while avoiding enemies at every turn. Little did she know, this journey would unlock the emergence of a love she never saw coming and leave her stronger than she ever was before.

****

The scorching twin suns of Tatooine shone relentlessly over the desert terrain, where the ever-shifting sands concealed the echoes of ancient legends and the remnants of forgotten civilizations. It was uncharted, unexplored and your court hadn’t ever found much use in it.

You cursed yourself now, as you rode with purpose on the back of a speeder bike, guided by a cryptic message that led you to the outskirts of a small settlement. Your destination, marked by the silhouette of weathered buildings, appeared like a mirage on the horizon. You flexed your gloved fingers, tightening them on the handles of the bike, weary in fear of the unknown monsters that lurk in the dried elements of the sand dunes.

The heat was oppressive, even at high speeds, offering a consistent gust of wind. You lick your lips, in hope of relieving them of the painful exhaustion of the breeze, only to find them painfully chapped.

You wipe your soaked brow, frustrated.

As the young senator of a newly constructed Mandalore, you were acutely conscious of the risks inherent in your position, accepting the inevitability that one day those risks might escalate to a critical juncture. And maker, did they.

Reflecting on the incident, you recalled the sequence of events that pushed you to the brink..

The elegant corridors of the Galactic Senate echoed with the usual hum of political discourse, but an undercurrent of tension continued as you navigated the complex dance of diplomacy. Your recent outspoken stance on independent capabilities had earned both allies and adversaries, and the shadows of political intrigue had begun to cast a threat over the once-groundbreaking career that continued your family lineage with pride and success.

You championed the strengthening of the independence of the new Mandalore, advocating for a course that emphasized self-reliance and sovereignty.

As the weight of political responsibility rested on your shoulders, the stakes were high. The decisions you made and the path you charted in the turbulent waters of politics weren't just about the fate of Mandalore; they were intertwined with the survival and prosperity of your family name. The honor and legacy of generations rested on your ability to navigate the complexities of the political arena, making every move with the awareness that the consequences reached far beyond the confines of the Senate chamber.

History revealed the tragic chapter as The Empire, hungry for power and resources, swiftly destroyed Mandalore. You aimed to showcase that those oppressed by the Empire could rise up, demonstrating resilience and returning stronger than ever.

The galaxy needed it. Even with the Empire gone, leaving vast worlds in a painful quest of putting themselves back together, witnessing a disintegrated race like Mandalore resurrected would serve as an inspiration for countless others. The resurgence of Mandalorians wouldn't merely be a regional triumph; it would be a symbol of hope, showcasing the spirit of a people determined to rebuild against all odds

Opposing factions within the Senate grew uneasy. Splitting the room in half. The delicate balance and inclusion you sought to maintain became a source of contention. Whispers of dissent circulated, painting a target on your back.

Your heart hadn't understood why, until it did. Hidden agendas. In the intricate web of galactic politics, there were always clandestine forces with their own agendas. However, now, those forces ran counter to Mandalore's independence. These unseen actors viewed you as a threat to their interests. You were wise enough to understand why. Many had sought to control such a powerful culture. They sought to build armies, utilizing such skills to get what they wanted. Yet, in your heart, after years of growing up on Mandalore and witnessing its downfall, you knew Mandalorians were more than mercenaries or hired killers. The essence of Mandalorian culture ran deep, rooted in honor, resilience, and a sense of identity that transcended the manipulations of those who sought to exploit it.

An anonymous transmission reached your quarters the very next day after your proposal. A distorted voice, shrouded in secrecy, warned you of the consequences of pushing for disarmament. The chilling words hinted at a well-orchestrated assassination attempt, sending a shiver down your spine.

In the following days, the threat manifested in subtle but unnerving ways. Unmarked speeders trailed you on your way to the Senate, and ominous messages were left in your private quarters. Mercenaries, clad in armor appeared on the periphery, their intentions veiled in mystery. It became clear that your dedication had disrupted the delicate equilibrium of power, provoking a reaction from those who preferred the status quo of criminal activities.

The heat of the two suns beating down on your head brought you back, no doubt burning your scalp.

Your heart sensed the presence of evil in these sands, a chilling warning that whispered of the nefarious forces entwined with this desolate planet.

Despite your current complaints, you still found yourself on the run, guided solely by coordinates that promised to lead you to the only bounty hunter willing to protect you — for a considerable price.

Approaching the settlement, you couldn't help but observe the paradoxical signs of life emerging from the decay that surrounded it. Amidst the dilapidated structures, a more vibrant building stood out, teeming with signs of life. Hopping off the speeder, you approached cautiously, a silent mantra urging you to maintain your composure.

As you stepped inside, your gaze lowered, and you observed the beeping of your navigation system. It confirmed that the coordinates precisely aligned with the building—a bustling bar.

The pulsating rhythm of the music reverberated through your entire being as you entered. Dancers skillfully adorned tabletops, their energetic performances earning them credits from the inebriated patrons who surrounded them. The ceilings, surprisingly high, were adorned with breathtaking chandeliers that cast a warm glow across the lively scene. A silent prayer passed through your mind, hoping those chandeliers weren't made of glass, as the energetic beats threatened to dislodge them from the ceiling.

Two bar tops came into your line of sight, each stool occupied by customers reveling in the vibrant atmosphere. The incongruity of such a lively scene in the heart of what seemed to be a deserted area lingered in your thoughts, adding an air of mystery to the situation.

The lively ambiance surrounding you seemed to heighten your sense of exposure and vulnerability, leaving you with an unsettling feeling of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The crowd and the thriving atmosphere made you suspicious that a bar like this could be a hotspot for dealings and underground businesses. And the nagging question echoed in your mind: Why did the coordinates lead you to this particular place?

The realization struck you then—self-defense hadn’t been in your skill sets for years, you’d hardly remembered a thing.

A heavy weight settled on your chest, you were on your own right now, making every breath feel like a struggle and fear gnawed at you, the thought of being an easy target for criminals skyrocketed the sense of terror.

You compelled your legs to retreat toward the entrance, and as you moved backward, you collided with a rock-hard chest. A pair of large hands firmly gripped your shoulders, halting your retreat.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" Your body was swiftly spun around, and you found yourself face to face with a man whose eyes gleamed a vivid purple. "You are just darling." His pointer finger traced a line across your cheek. "What's your price, sweetheart?" A gasp escaped you in sheer terror. "Oh, I'm not a—"

He silenced you with a shush, a finger coming to rest on your lips. You recoiled from the overwhelming scent of alcohol that clung to him. "Oh, but we all are, sweet thing. We just sell different parts of ourselves."

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach as he attempted to drag you toward the back room. Summoning every ounce of strength, you will yourself to fight back, pushing him away with all your might. In the struggle, you remained oblivious to the fact that your once-tight long-sleeved tunic was being torn apart by his prying hands.

"There you are," a voice called out. It had a filtered, almost droid-like quality, devoid of any discernible human emotion.

You and the inebriated man turned, your eyes landing on a tall Mandalorian in silver armor that gleamed like a freshly minted coin under the bright lights of the bar.

He approached with large, purposeful steps, reaching out to pull you away by the arm. "I've been looking for you," he said, looking up at the man, "thank you for finding her for me." Your attention snapped toward the man, who seemed to have sobered up instantly at the sight of the formidable bounty hunter. You recognized the unmistakable look of terror in his eyes as he hastily scattered off into the crowd.

Slowing your breathing, you became aware of the rip in the collar of your shirt. Before you could utter a word, the bounty hunter skillfully guided the two of you out of the bar and into an empty alley.

He gripped your shoulders, leaning down. "Are you okay?" You nodded.

He stood back up straight, with a sigh, he said " We need to get out of here.." His eyes scanned the surroundings, vigilant for any potential threats, and you took the opportunity to thoroughly inspect him. His helmet gleamed under the twin suns, reflecting their radiant beams. Clad in the all too familiar beskar armor that shined like it was freshly forged, he looked well-equipped, armed to the teeth with an arsenal of weapons.

After giving careful consideration to staying out of sight, given the bar situation, the two of you navigated the desolate town with caution, making your way towards his ship stationed on the other side. He handed you his soft brown cowl, and you wrapped it around yourself, concealing your face and the large tear in your shirt that exposed too much of your chest.

After what felt like an abundance of twists and turns, you finally arrived at his ship, and it appeared grand—much larger than any ships you'd ever seen back on your planet. The awe on your face was undeniable, and you stumbled up the ramp into the hull. Inside, you observed a spacious armory stocked with just about every gun known to man. Small living quarters, a bathroom, and storage containers filled with maker knows what.

You barely noticed the Mandalorian brush past you. He was swift, shutting the ramp, and climbing up the ladder into what you assumed was the cockpit. A moment of indecision hung in the air—do you follow or stay down in the hull? You didn't want to be in his way, but your curiosity outweighed your judgment, and you found yourself climbing the ladder after him.

The cockpit was compact as you came upon it, adorned with expansive windows that offered the bounty hunter an extensive field of perception. Taking a seat in the co-pilot position, you broke the everlasting silence, "Your beskar looks newly forged." The remark, perhaps could be taken as admiration or scrutiny, acknowledged his pristine condition.

Punching in coordinates and lifting off, the bounty hunter deftly switched to autopilot. Swiveling his chair, he looked at you. "Yes," he affirmed. You hummed, an uplifting smile tugging at your lips, crossing your legs with your hands in your lap- a habit. "I've never seen such a signet. A mudhorn, isn’t it?" You paused, your gaze fixating on the symbol adorning his shoulder. A potent representation of identity, "I'm glad to know after all this time signets still remain," you remarked, expressing a sense of gratefulness. He sat still, his head turned towards you. If he sought to uncover more about your knowledge you hadn't known, he gave no indication. After a brief moment, he swiveled back around, the enigmatic figure maintaining a stoic demeanor.

With his gloved hands hovering over the controls, he remarked, "You're a senator."

It wasn't a question, but a statement that hung in the air.

You hummed. "I was.” The simplicity of your response carried a weight. You dug your chin comfortably into your shoulder, finding solace in the connection between you and the expanse of space around you. The wondrous streaks of starlight zipped by every second, a mesmerizing display.

Continuing, you said,"Until the beliefs I had for the greater good of my planet made me look like a fool..made my family name look weak," you lamented, revealing the profound impact of your convictions on the legacy that preceded you.

"Last I checked, honoring your beliefs is anything but weak," the Mandalorian stated, his voice resonating with a firm belief that underlined the strength found in unwavering principles. His claim reflected his culture, your culture, one that esteemed honor above all else.

"Try telling that to the rest of the Senate. Most of them have their hands so dirty that any threat of exposure to their underground workings will send you six feet under," you remarked, your tone tinged with a cynical acknowledgment of harsh realities. "The greater good of the galaxy means shit to these people." The weight of your words lingered, encapsulating the system where self-interest often overshadowed noble ideals.

Silence rang in the air after that. The Mandalorian sat still as a statue, and you only stared out the windows at the shooting stars, counting as many as you could. What occupied your thoughts, though, was what the future held for you. Your mind bounced a mile a minute from question to question—would you be on the run forever? Would you eventually fall prey to those who sought bloodshed? Would this Mandalorian stay true to the deal? Senator or not, things are different now; alliances change. For the first time in a long time, you felt that sense of hopelessness you hadn't experienced since that night of destruction. The uncertainty of the path ahead weighed heavily on your shoulders, providing a palpable tension in the silent journey through the cosmos.

****

[sirdindjarin]

You know that some year for some dumb, made-up holiday, Greef 100% has the Anzellans retrofit a speeder with a sidepod and gives it to Din and Grogu.

And Grogu for sure figures out how to turn it on with the force and Din spends half his time tracking down the speeder because it's always upside down on the far edge of the property

[shakeskp]

Un bout de fic

Parce que je suis dessus aujourd'hui, la fic nom de code "Tatooine Coeur à Vif". C'est en théorie une Dinluke, mais pour le moment on a en gros 6000 mots de Obi-Wan & Luke, parce que j'avais besoin de justifier que Luke emprunte l'éopie d'Obi-Wan. Et parce que la série Obi-Wan Kenobi, que j'aime par ailleurs, foire complètement le raccord avec Un Nouvel Espoir et que j'avais besoin d'écrire l'UA qui en découlerait :D

Les premiers 250 mots :

La première fois qu'il rencontra Ben, Luke venait d'avoir dix ans. Du moins, la première fois officiellement. Il l'avait déjà vu aux abords de la ferme, caché dans les rochers. Oncle Owen lui disait toujours de ne pas y aller parce qu'il y avait une meute de yena qui y chassait. Et ça, ça avait été la première fois où son oncle lui avait menti. Menti pour de vrai, pas le genre de demi-mensonge qui ne servait qu'à l'occuper, quand il ne le voulait pas l'avoir dans les jambes.

Luke en avait été indigné. Il n'y avait pas de meute de yena par là-bas, il l'aurait su.

Alors, il s'était demandé si l'homme était de ceux dont il devait se méfier. Ceux qui ne devaient pas savoir que mamie Schmi s'était appelée Skywalker, et que Luke ne s'appelait pas vraiment Lars. En fait, tous ceux qui s'adressaient à lui alors qu'il était seul. Parce que mamie Schmi avait été esclave, et que même si Luke était né libre, le premier de sa lignée, beaucoup de monde pensait que ce n'était pas une raison pour qu'il le reste.

Et le père de Luke était célèbre. Il avait gagné une course de pod alors qu'il n'avait que neuf ans ! Tous ceux qui s'intéressaient aux courses reconnaissaient le nom d'Anakin Skywalker, savaient qu'il avait été esclave et que c'était grâce à cette victoire qu'il avait été libéré.

Luke, lui, n'avait même pas le droit de toucher aux commandes du vieux speeder.

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

alright so. Basically, (its the same anon i jst cant be arsed to anonymousasise this) agent Whiskey and reader, and its fuckin. Fake married that evolves into real feelings ?? Like !!

or mando/ din djarin. hear me out, right. so, reader and din are in love, yada yada, but but but, one day, reader has an idea for kissing him !! they get a blindfold and promise not to peak and so they kiss and fluff.

omg literally blushing and kicking my feet rn

I'm literally gonna start drafting some dialogue right fucking now for din because oh my fucking days i'm actually in love with him AHHHH that idea is so fuckin CUTEE

thank you for the suggestion my love <3

[marisferasiop]

Y'all I am exhausted and disgusted with this fic but I know it's the imposter syndrome and the fact that I've been chipping away at it for a month that has me down.

Also I had a pretty fuckin' shitty day.

Final edits under way, hopefully posting this weekend.