#i'm SO impatient and i wanna try learning some languages on my own again

[just-miru]

bonjour y'all cum vă это leben?

[abundanceofnots]

Hi hi, 6 + 85 please <3

(hi hi!)

bookshop au + innocent physical contact

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"yo," the guy says for a greeting after he struts into the bookshop and tentatively approaches the cash register. "you got one of those books that like, tell you the words in not-english?"

ian lowers his paperback, his expression impassive until he finally figures out what that jumble of words might mean. "you mean dictionaries?"

"yeah, those," the peculiar man replies, his tattooed knuckles impatiently rapping on the counter. "whatever. got 'em?"

"last aisle on your right." Ian lazily points with his thumb. "can't miss it, you know. it's all the books under a big sign that says dictionaries."

the guy answers with a grunt and a half-hearted middle finger thrown over his shoulder as he walks away. ian's eyes follow him, and he snorts out a laugh.

it's a slow evening at the store, the dictionary guy being ian's only customer in the past hour, and if he's being honest, he's a little bored, and there's just something so intriguing about his presence.

when ten minutes pass, ian decides that even an unstimulating conversation with a total stranger is better than the novel he's currently reading and follows the man into the non-fiction section.

he finds him frowning at an opened book, looking like its contents managed to offend his whole existence.

"everything okay?" ian asks, his customer service voice mixing with genuine worry. he notices the gap in the russian dictionary shelf.

"just these fuckin' symbols, man," the guy mutters. "how do you make sense of them?"

"ah," ian assesses with a nod before turning on his heel. he comes back a minute later with a book titled russian alphabet in 33 moves. "better start with this, then."

the guy measures the cover skeptically when ian hands it over, but still takes it. "thanks."

ian watches him flip through the pages and grimace at the illustrations.

"you traveling?" he asks in curiosity.

"me? nah," the guy replies, genuinely entertained by the notion. then his expression falters again. "it's... it's my son. my bitch of an ex-wife is russian, the kid speaks russian, too. even to me, sometimes. i wanna know what he's sayin'."

"wow," ian says after a while, "that's--"

"stupid, i know."

ian shakes his head resolutely. "no, i think that's actually really admirable of you. god knows my dad spoke the same language as me, but still never actually made an effort to understand me, so. this thing you're doing? that's really nice in my books."

"yeah, yeah," the guy waves him off, but ian can tell there's something new in the way he looks at him now. something like gratitude. like sympathy. "probably won't learn shit, anyway."

"maybe not. so what," ian says, his hand reaching out almost on its own accord to squeeze the guy's shoulder in a supportive gesture. "the fact that you're willing to try is enough."

the guy worries his bottom lip between his teeth. then, he says, his voice flat, "shit. did that really work on you?"

ian's hand drops along with his face. "what?"

"dude, you were almost on the verge of crying. i was worried you might burst into a song any moment. and that line, the fact that you're willing to try is enough? what the hell was that? do you say that to anyone who comes in here with a sob story?"

"what?" ian repeats in indignation. "no. no! i don't."

the guy makes a face like he doesn't believe him.

"does that mean you don't have a son who speaks russian?" ian asks, feeling embarrassed.

"i do, and he does. doesn't mean that i'm some pussy who needs a sad wank from a bookshop attendant, though."

"wow. you're an asshole."

the man smiles. "i'm mickey."

"ian. and you're still an asshole," ian replies, shaking his head incredulously. seriously, the nerve of this guy.

"but am i an asshole who gets to take these home for a discount?" mickey asks, tapping the two books that he's still holding, his smile now blinding and charming as fuck.

ian scoffs, a small smile slipping through his schooled features. "fat chance, dickwad. not only are you paying full price for them, but i'm also having you buy the first edition kerouac we have here somewhere."

"ouch. i'm sure there's a different solution we can agree on, officer."

"maybe." ian gives a little shrug. "i'm closing at 9. then, i'm gonna have a beer at the bar across the road to forget about my asshole customers. might not be so bad to have someone pay for it."

mickey watches him, then licks over his lips. "that can be arranged."

fanfiction trope mash-up

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Did You Mean It?

Pairing: Dad!Din Djnarin x GN foundling! Reader

Rating: G

Word Count:1,449

Summary: Din has been teaching you Mando'a and does not know how to react after you call him buir (father) for the first time.

Request: Heyyy, love your writing! Definitely not enough platonic mando fics out there. But I was just wondering if you were interested in making a tag list, if not that's fine I just don't want to miss anything you write! Also, if your still taking requests I was wondering if you would write a fic around the reader calling Din some form of dad for the first time. By accident or on purpose (like after Din teaches her the word buir) it doesn't matter to me. I'm just curious how Din would react lol!

A/N: Hey hey!! I’m fairly new to tumblr so I’ll do my best to do tag lists in the furure! Just let me know if you wanna join so I can write it down somewhere :)) (That was for the general public I’ll definitely mark your name down) I’ve seemed to have grown a habit for writing in Din’s perspective haha, but yes I do think that no matter how Din first hears the reader call him buir he’d still be like “...me?” I hope what I did was okay and you enjoyed it. And thanks so much for liking what I write!!!

Although you were not raised in Mandalorian culture, Din took it upon himself to teach you Mando’a. He first brought it up some time after his encounter with Bo Katan and the other Mandalorians. When he finally saw others of his kind, albeit reassuring, it reminded him that the effort it took to find them could only mean his people were slowly being wiped out. Din needed to hold onto his deteriorating culture, and hoped that you would take an interest in learning from it as a member of Clan Mudhorn. When he inquired about your interest in learning the language he did so thinking that you would probably be daunted by the challenge. He wouldn’t have been offended if you declined as he didn’t want to force you into something you had no interest in, but much to his surprise you were ecstatic about it!

It warmed Din’s heart to watch you fumble over syllables during your first lessons. He began with simple introduction phrases and vocabulary. Nothing too difficult but sufficient enough to help you progress. You were often praised for your efforts and encouraged to converse with Din for practice, which you did. He often corrected you on grammar mistakes and your pronunciation. One thing you hated was how he wouldn’t remind you of a word you’d forgotten during a conversation. He’d simply ignore your plea to remind him and continue his work, leaving you to try to remember the term by yourself.

After some time, you were capable of holding simple conversations. Nothing too complex, but enough for you to get by if there was ever the need for you to use it. On one occasion, it helped you avoid getting arrested.

Although it was not entirely your fault, it often sounded like it was the way Din told it. The Clan had taken the day off to visit a local market after a successful bounty to stock up on fresh supplies and eat a good meal. Din gave you several credits to spend on whatever you pleased while he went to run his errands. The day was particularly sunny. Shoppers wandered around Din, although he stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the civilians with his beskar. Curious eyes casted towards him but he paid no mind to them as he walked up to a vendor and greeted her with a nod.

“Can I buy a holopad around here?” He inquired, waiting for the vendor to return his change. She paused a moment, credits in separate hands as she thought a moment.

“Not too far off that road,” Din followed her gaze and thanked her, pocketing his change before making his way to the shop she’d pointed out to. In truth, he already had a holopad of his own but wanted to give one to you for your upcoming birthday. He approached the shop, pausing a moment to gaze at the door, before making a move to open it. Wait.

What was that?

Din slowly moved back and surveyed the area. He could have sworn he could have heard something familiar. He strained his ears to listen once more.

“Buir!”

Suddenly his attention was caught by your figure as you desperately ran towards him, almost tripping on your feet with Grogu clinging onto you in your arms. Behind you was a vendor tailing you, anger written over his expression. Din marched forward quickly, pushing you and Grogu behind him when the two of you were close enough and held a hand out as the vendor approached.

“What did you do?” He looked down at you, not waiting for an answer but rather looked at the vendor. He hunched over, hands on his knees while he caught his breath. “Can I help you?”

He inhaled sharply and straightened himself up after gathering his breath, gesturing at you. “Is this yours?”

“Can’t you see the resemblance?” Din’s voice was monotonous despite the sarcastic comment. You made a face at the man from your place behind Din. The man inhaled sharply at your expression, though Din chose to ignore your actions.

“Is there a problem here?” Din inquired, pushing you further behind his back so you wouldn’t upset the man even more.

“I caught them trying to steal some of my produce. I have half the mind to call the sheriff-”

“That’s not true!” You interjected, pushing yourself into view but Din was fast enough to push you back in your place.

“Y/N.” Din warned, “vaabir no ukoror bic. Tonaid was bic?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your stance, raising Grogu higher in your arms. “Grogu.”

“Kaysh hiibir mayen?”

“Nayc, he grabbed some things and I didn’t realize.”

Din understood now that you meant this was just a misunderstanding. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder and turned to the impatient vendor. “My foundling has a habit of grabbing anything he can get a hold of. He’s still a child. You can understand.”

At first the vendor was reluctant to leave, convinced that Din’s little clan members were nothing but no good thieves. He even insisted that Din paid reparations for what Grogu had taken, for he tried to eat some before you took it from his mouth. It took some convincing, and several credits, to make the vendor walk away satisfied.

“Well, that’s that.” Din sighed, shaking his head a little and tucked his hands onto his hips. He turned to the two of you, “C’mon, let’s get something for you two to eat.”

At the local cantina Grogu helped himself to a hearty bowl of soup while you ate your own favorite meal from there. Din simply sat back, checking his credits before placing the payment on the table so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it later. When he was done and his mind left wondering, he thought back to when he first heard you call for him in Mando’a.

Buir…

The term you used was one that a child would call its father. You called him father. He wondered if it came out naturally for you, or if you used it because you had to prove that you and Din had some sort of relation. That must have been the case. You’d only been a member of the clan for almost a year now. Seeing Din as a guardian should be natural, but a parental figure? Din wasn’t so sure. He had grown fond of having you around. As an older child you were a far better conversationalist than Grogu was and many times showed that you trusted Din. But still, Din wasn’t your father. He had to remind himself that sometimes. But still, he couldn’t stop wondering how you saw him as he watched you eat your meal.

“Did you mean it?” Din didn’t know where he found the courage to start speaking, but he didn’t stop himself.

“Hm?” You lifted your head, your dish in your hands as you were about to take a bite.

“You called me… buir.” The word sounded strange to call himself.

Your face lit up when you reminisced the incident. “Oh! I mean, yeah. I knew it was the only way to grab your attention. It was really crowded today.”

Din chuckled, “It worked.”

You couldn’t help but smile before taking another bite into your meal, smiling to yourself at its taste. It’d been awhile since the clan ate at a cantina. It’d been awhile that the kiddos had gone out actually. Why was it that every time they joined Din out into town trouble would occur? Din shook his head lightly, deeming that only he would have ended up with such troublemakers.

“But, it’s not like I don’t see you as one.”

You stared back at him, cocking your head to the side and giving him a small smile. Although you couldn’t see it, Din held a big smile underneath his helmet. For a moment he almost forgot that you couldn’t see his expression and collected himself as you waited for his response.

“I’m really proud of you, Y/N.” He beamed, turning to wipe some smudge off of Grogu’s face. “You’re a great kid.”

You grinned widely and a pleasant moment of silence falls upon you two despite the noisy environment. Din told the two of you to finish soon so that the group would return to the ship before nightfall. During the last moments of supper, you and Din conversed with each other in Mando’a to practice your pronunciation once again. At some moments you grazed through phrases you previously struggled on, though you did not realize it Din certainly did, and it made him even more proud of how you’d grown.