#kuiil and the armorer are bros

[unfunny-quips]

Summary: Later, Din would wander down to find the Armorer and Kuiil testing the offensive and defensive abilities of their creation. Paz and his son watched on from a safe distance behind some blast proof barricades that had been brought as a tithe to the Tribe ages ago. The little one sat perched on one of Paz’s knees, eating the bang-corn Paz fed him happily and giggling whenever there was a particularly flashy explosion that the hovering cradle deflected or - often enough - caused.

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Scenes from my Parables of Promise series that didn't quite make it into the stories they were written for, but I was still hopeful people would enjoy anyway. Will be updated whenever a random scene I like that's complete doesn't make it in to the main storyline.

Kuiil stood in the entrance of the Foundry, feeling shorter than usual besides the looming figure of Paz Vizla, as he waited to be granted entrance from the Mandalorian Armorer.

When he’d told Din that he would need additional parts for creating a new cradle for the little one, he’d expected the Mandalorian to either take a list and get them from the market or tag along with him and IG to pay for parts. He had not been anticipating the lad to direct him to the tunnels beneath Nevarro, nor was he expecting Din to further assure him that the Armorer would be both able and willing to give whatever supplies he might need for the project.

He’d gone anyway though, taking the indicated entrance to the tunnels and leaving Din and IG to barter for parts for the Crest in the market above. He took the little one with him, largely to ensure that - should Paz not be present to vouch for him - the Armorer would not think him an outsider and do to him what he’d heard done to the Storm Troopers. Even with Din’s assurances, he’d been in doubt at the wisdom of sending him down without a Mandalorian escort, only reassured he wouldn’t find his end in the tunnels when the imposing figure of Paz appeared from the gloom and greeted him cordially.

The Child in Kuiil’s arms wriggled and cooed, ears perked as the little one caught sight of a shiny bauble on a nearby work bench. Kuiil bobbed the little one gently, redirecting the toddlers attention to the Mythosaur necklace the little one wore instead with a practiced ease. It had been a long time since he’d cared for a child, let alone one so young, but some things stuck with a person and fatherhood was one of them.

“You’re quite good with him.” A cool, modulated voice said from across the room. Kuiil lifted his gaze to find that the Armorer had turned her attention away from her forge and on to him. After a moment considering his small frame in the door of her Foundry she nodded towards what appeared to be a set of low stools and a table. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

He adjusted the child in his arms and took the proffered seat, only partially surprised when Paz came to stand over him rather than sitting himself. His interactions with the Mandalorian in blue armor had been limited to the first day or so of being in the hospital, buzzing on pain medication. He’d learned more second hand from Cara and Din, the former teasing the latter mercilessly over the obvious affection Din had for the other Mando. He knew that Paz was gentle to the child and had saved Din’s life, which was enough for the Ugnaught to make an initial, favorable assessment.

“Has he eaten?” Paz asked, leaning his massive frame downward to brush a gloved finger over the child’s wrinkled forehead. The Child cooed, reaching out with the hand not preoccupied with keeping the mythosaur pendant in his mouth to hold onto Paz’s hand. Paz crooked his finger, bobbing the little one’s hand and electing a smile from the child.

Kuill felt a smile pull at his face and gently shifted the little one as the child moved to reach for Paz. “He ate before we came to the market.” He answered, allowing Paz to scoop the toddler up in much larger arms. “I imagine he’d be happy if you give him more though. His appetite has increased over the past few days.”

The mythosaur pendant dropped from the child’s mouth as two green hands reached to pat happily against Paz’s helmet. Large ears flicked excitedly as Paz bumped his forehead lightly against the little one’s, the child babbling cheerfully. “Are you finally going to grow ad’ika? If you eat well you might be as big as your Buir one day.” Paz told the child, gently tapping his fingers along the toddler’s ribs, pulling a delighted giggle from the child. Kuiil smiled as the massive Mandalorian tucked the little one against his chest and turned his attention back down to where Kuiil sat. “Just made some stew with some good flavor to it, I’ll get him some.”

Kuiil nodded, allowing Paz to wander off with the little one in his arms. He watched them disappear down the hall before turning back to the Forge, letting the hum of the Foundry settle over him. The Armorer set her tools down, quiet as she moved to take the seat across from him.

“You are Kuiil.” She said, golden helm tilting as if she was considering him. “I have heard of what you have done for the Foundling. On behalf of the Tribe, please know that we are in your debt.”

He shook his head, waving her words away with a hand the way he had so many months ago when Din had offered him funds in exchange for his aid. “I want no debt from you or your people.” He told her honestly. He’d spent a lifetime paying for debts, he’d not see them settled on anyone else if he could help it. “The only repayment I can ask is that the child is well and cared for.”

The Armorer made a soft, endeared sound beneath her helm. “Din Djarin said you would say as much.” She offered, and he thought he could hear a smile in her modulated voice. “You are an interesting one Kuiil.”

Warmth filled his chest at those words, a small smile touching his lips. “That is entirely untrue.” He told her, honestly. He was only an old Ugnaught, far past his prime with only lonely days of freedom ahead of him. Interesting was not a word to describe one such as himself. “Is this the reason he sent me down here then? I thought it odd he’d direct me to you to get parts for the baby’s cradle.” 

The Armorer tilted her head, a low noise he realized to be a soft chuckle coming from beneath her helm, “Not at all. I am an Armorer, but that does not mean that armor is the extent of my craft.” She nodded towards a workbench a little ways away from where she had been working at the forge. Kuiil saw familiar tools laid out along its surface, along with several crates of parts set nearby. “If you would permit, I can aid in making this one a bit more sturdy than the last.” At his glance she added, “Beskar is usually reserved for Helms and the armor of warriors, but something tells me Din Djarin’s foundling will require a bit more than the standard durasteal for a buycika.”

Kuiil felt a smile pull his face wide at the idea. He’d never worked with beskar before. Too rare, to precious a resource, not meant to be used on the kinds of things Kuiil worked on. His fingers itched at the thought of getting to craft with it, see what the legendary iron could do. “Indeed.” He agreed, then paused as his eyes landing on some of Paz’s weaponry the other Mandalorian had set aside in the Foundry. “Perhaps something a bit more than just extra armor?”

The Armorer tilted her head, Helm shifting in such a way he could tell she was following his gaze. “Ah.” She said, and Kuiil heard the moment she understood what he was suggesting. “Yes. I rather think some additional security protocols would be rather beneficial. Shall we?”

Kuiil nodded, getting to his feet as she rose and following her lead eagerly as they began going over his initial plans and making the changes they deemed necessary. Adjustments would need to be made to account for the additions they were making, but between his own experience and the skill of the Armorer he was rather certain they could make something suitable for a child so often in trouble. As the Armorer began gathering equipment, Kuiil glanced over his notes, considering how feasible it would be to rig up a tracking jammer with the spare parts he could see laying about.

He would need to remember to thank Din later when he saw him next. He hadn’t had so much fun working on a new creation in centuries.

Later, Din would wander down to the hours later to find the Armorer and Kuiil testing the offensive and defensive abilities of their creation. Paz and his son watched on from a safe distance behind some blast proof barricades that had been brought as a tithe to the Tribe ages ago. The little one sat perched on one of Paz’s knees, eating the bang-corn Paz fed him happily and giggling whenever there was a particularly flashy explosion that the hovering cradle deflected or - often enough - caused. 

Perhaps the the addition of the Whistling Birds was a tad overkill - even by Din’s standards - but Kuiil and the Armorer looked so pleased when their creation all but disintegrated the mock Storm Trooper they’d fashioned with scavenged gear that he hadn’t the heart to say anything. Besides, he was too enamored with the Mudhorn signet emblazoned on the side of the cradle too much to ever give them any kind of feedback that wasn’t overwhelmingly positive.

[themangolorian]

Hey bro that untitled one shot you did where reader thinks cyar’ika is a curse word? Friggin golden! I loved it so much and was wondering if you’d be open to writing a continuation where reader confronts Din?

Hey bro did you know that I love you? 🥺🥺Thank you so much for this ask, my love. I actually had a 3.7k word fic and I took the one shot out of that and...originally I was only going to post this on ao3 but this is the perfect time to post this here now too. Was so happy to wake up to this ask bb! 🥰💜💜💜

Pairing: Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: The simplest of misunderstandings can sometimes turn into the loveliest of reveals.

A/N: Full work of this excerpt. No warnings, pure fluff.

This wasn’t exactly your first rodeo with the Mandalorian. You’d been with him on hunts for quarry before. Not that the Mandalorian had much love for you. Usually you only came along when Greef insisted he needed a second player, which wasn’t often. This time you weren’t sure of the circumstances, but you had a sneaky suspicion the Mandalorian had specifically asked Greef for you to tag along. You couldn’t see why. He was always aloof. Quiet. Not quite standoffish but close.

This was one of the rare times he did need someone though. And while you were quite sure you annoyed him half the time, you also knew you were good at your job. You weren’t a bounty hunter in the traditional sense. Your speciality was tech specifically meant to trick and outmaneuver particularly hard to catch quarries. This time, the Mandalorian was dealing with a changeling. Which could be the trickiest of quarries.

You’d developed a device that could unveil the disguise of a changeling but it wasn’t quite up to specification yet and required two people to man it. One wearing the eye piece - that would be the Mandalorian. And one to actually man the controls - that would be you. And you needed to be close.

The Mandalorian had tracked the quarry down to a cantina on Coruscant. Almost the entire way he’d sat quietly in the belly of the Razor Crest watching you tinkle with your devices, constantly changing and perfecting them. He’d ask questions here and there and you’d been short with him, sure his questions were more out of boredom than anything else. 

Now, you found yourselves in a posh cantina meant for the wealthy and elite. The Mandalorian, tall and striking in his polished armor, seemed to fit in perfectly with the surrounding luxury. You, on the other hand, felt insufficient in a way you didn’t think actually mattered because you were sure the Mandalorian would never look at you that way anyway.

You hadn’t always thought this way about the Mandalorian. Your first few missions with him had been short, quick, efficient. He’d always intimidated you, but as time had passed, your feelings towards him had morphed into something softer. You’d begun to see him in a new light. His soft grazes and touches, the few that you got. His gentle voice. Your belly had begun to float when he spoke to you or looked at you. But you were sure that he didn’t see you the same way.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. This was the last time and place you should have been thinking about any of this.

Instead you readied yourself to activate the eyepiece worn now by the Mandalorian; you sidled closer to where you knew he was waiting for your instructions, not three feet from the changeling. A crackling over the commlink in your ear, a question. 

You spoke softly into your wrist. “Across and two chairs over.” Your device also accounted for tracking of the changeling so you couldn’t lose them even if they changed form again.

A gruff noise in your ear indicated he’d heard you. With a release of your breath, you activated the eye piece.

From there, things happened quickly. You watched in awe as the Mandalorian, seemingly with little effort, dived across the table. A short scuffle later and the changeling who’d been in human form but was now back to their natural form, sat dazed on the floor wearing binders. The Mandalorian hefted the being to their feet and headed your way. Just as the Mandalorian reached you, you both realized the changeling had not been alone. 

The blaster fire took you in the shoulder and you went down. Sprawled on the ground, all you could think about was the fact that you were still alive. 

“Cyar’ika!” You heard the Mandalorian’s harsh voice curse at you. You winced. Not at the pain in your shoulder but rather at the fact that you’d been too slow-moving to avoid being hit and now the Mandalorian was calling you curse words in the tongue of his people. Not that you knew what it meant but you could guess well enough from the context of the outburst.

You didn’t have long to dwell on it before rough gloved hands were pulling your trembling form to your feet again. A split second later, he was shoving you aside; several blaster shots passed through where you’d just been. Then- three blaster shots from the Mandalorian and each of your assailants were down.

“Let’s go.” His words were gruff and you winced again, collecting your gear off the floor of the cantina and rushing after him, noting the way he kept your hand tightly gripped in his, essentially dragging you after him, as he lugged his quarry along just to his left.

He didn’t slow his pace and you struggled not to trip, but you made it more or less in one piece back to the ship. Out of breath, you closed the telescopic gate to the ship behind the two of you as the Mandalorian began freezing his quarry in carbon.

“Can you handle that?” He gestured towards the freezing system but he was brushing past you and back up the ladder before you could respond. He knew you could. You felt the ship taking off as you finished the freezing process and stored the frozen quarry in an empty slot of the system.

Then you were sitting on the edge of his sleep cot and releasing a long drawn out breath. The next thing you knew your hand was at your injured shoulder and your eyes were tearing up. You could be such a baby, but you weren’t used to the same high stakes the Mandalorian usually went through on his hunts. To top it off, he’d been tough and aggressive with you despite your injury. You were tired and just wanted to go home.

When the Mandalorian joined you back below, you were making a poor attempt at patching your wound up with the meager supplies you had in your own pack. The Mandalorian did not check the carbonite freezing system; that was something at least...he trusted your work. Instead he seemed to hesitate when he saw your face, still puffy after crying. But then his eyes must have landed on the terrible job you’d done cleaning and bandaging your wound.

“Wait,” he said, his voice as gruff as usual. He turned and rummaged through a storage drawer before pulling a crate towards you that he could sit on.

He pushed your hands away, though not roughly, and inspected your work. A sharp intake of his breath made you close your eyes. His helmet tilted your way at your grimace. “Are you alright?” You opened your eyes in surprise and stared at his visor. You weren’t sure he actually cared, but you nodded anyway. He hesitated as if he wanted to say more but then instead got started on fixing the mess you’d made of your wound. 

You braced yourself for more pain, the wound was deeper than you’d thought after all, but the pain never came. The Mandalorian was quick and efficient, spraying something cool that numbed your arm. You couldn’t look as he cleaned the area and applied bacta. You’d always been better with machines, never with the body. 

“You’re alright,” he said once he was done in the softest tone you’d ever heard him use. And it made you look at him with eyes you knew were telling of what you were thinking. But he never looked away from the wound and you felt embarrassed for feeling anything beyond grateful. Soon you felt him applying a clean bandage over your shoulder.

“Sleep,” he said as he stood, packing away the rest of the ship’s medical supplies.

He didn’t look your way again, and you felt dismissed, so you lay back and curled in on yourself, resting on your uninjured shoulder. A slight pressure on your waist made you look up to see a folded blanket draped over your knees and the Mandalorian disappearing back up the ladder. He didn’t seem to want to be in the same room as you for longer than he could help it. You sighed sadly as you spread the blanket over yourself, wincing when you jostled your shoulder. You were sure the Mandalorian would be glad to be rid of you considering you’d ended up more a burden than a help this time around, and you would be surprised if he ever requested your help again.

When you awoke, you were shocked to find you were not on Nevarro. Not wanting to question the Mandalorian, you followed him to the hut seemingly located in the middle of nowhere in this vast desert. But your question was answered in due time when the Mandalorian, after a warm greeting, explained in a clipped tone that you couldn’t decipher to the ugnaught waiting inside the hut that you’d been injured and he wasn’t sure he’d done a good job considering there could have been muscle damage. You were at a loss for words and watched mutely as the Mandalorian seemingly fled back to the ship to wait.

The ugnaught seemed accustomed to these kinds of last minute appearances and odd requests; he asked no questions. Instead he settled you comfortably down in a large, soft chair and introduced himself as Kuiil. You made friendly, easy conversation with the ugnaught as he revealed the wound on your shoulder and began prodding and poking. You didn’t look, but you knew he was using some chemical to regrow the flesh you’d lost. He’d numbed you again to ensure you’d feel no pain. Still, you knew pain that came not from your injury but from something else showed on your face.

Kuiil finished patching your shoulder up. “What is wrong, my dear?” He asked finally sitting back and watching your face.

You considered his kind eyes and peered towards the entry to the hut. From the sounds in the distance, the Mandalorian was scraping at carbon scoring on the Razor Crest so would be too far to hear your words.

“It’s just-” You paused, frowning down at your hands where they were gathered in your lap. “I think he hates me.” You decided on.

Kuiil gave a chuckle of surprise that was deep and throaty. His hand came out to lift your chin so you were once again looking at him. “What makes you think that?” His tone was incredulous, his eyes light. He didn’t seem to be taking you seriously.

Your frown deepened. “It’s just- When we were on Coruscant...when I got hurt...he yelled at me - well, he called me a name. I think it was some sort of curse word in Mando’a.”

Kuiil’s brow furrowed, but his lips quivered as if he was trying not to smile. “What was the term?”

You pursed your lips trying to remember. “Cyar’ika.” You finally sounded out. 

Kuiil made a noise of surprise and you glanced at him carefully, fearing the worst. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

You racked your brain, but yes that was it. You were even sure you’d pronounced it right. It would actually be hard to forget because the word had cut you so deep at the time. You knew the Mandalorian didn’t like you but you’d expected a little bit of sympathy at least at your plight and injury. Instead-

You lost your train of thought when Kuill began lightly chuckling once more, joined this time by the shaking of his head.

“What?” You sat up, glaring somewhat at him now. It was one thing for the Mandalorian to curse at you in the heat of the moment; it was quite another for Kuiil, who you’d thought kind, to laugh at something you were obviously sensitive about.

“My dear,” Kuiil said, struggling to stop chuckling, “that’s not a curse word.”

Oh. But then you frowned again. “What does it mean then?”

Still guffawing, Kuiil managed to finally speak. One word. A word that shot through you to your core. “Beloved.”

Suddenly you found yourself holding your breath, hands at your cheeks. “That’s impossible.” You croaked, your voice cracking.

A sound at the hut’s entry startled you, and you looked just in time to see the Mandalorian slipping into the small room. Your eyes immediately found the floor; you couldn’t look at him. Had he heard? You hoped beyond hope he hadn’t heard. So many thoughts were running through your brain. Kuiil must have been wrong. The Mandalorian had sounded so tense when he’d said the word to you. But- He almost always sounded that way, and if the word meant what Kuiil said it did, and if the Mandalorian had meant it that way, wouldn’t that be a natural reaction to seeing you injured? You blanched inwardly, sure you were being stupid.

All of these thoughts flew through your head as the Mandalorian thanked Kuiil, promised to return soon and gave his goodbye. You thanked Kuiil, who still looked amused, embraced him briefly and then followed the Mandalorian silently back to the ship. He said nothing to you as the gate shut behind you. As usual he rushed up the ladder but you heard his footsteps above stop. Then-

“Would…” A pause, then- “would you like to sit in the cockpit with me?” He sounded hesitant, unsure.

You took the two steps forward so you were looking up at him through the hatch. “I...” But your hand had already found the rungs of the ladder. So you said nothing and instead ascended. Then you were joining him in the cockpit. You’d been in it before on previous missions when things hadn’t felt so tense, when the Mandalorian had been much less aloof and distant. You sat and buckled yourself in as the Mandalorian blasted the ship off into space and then hyperspace.

Gathering your courage, you asked a question that had been a pinprick in your brain since you’d awoken. “Why did we stop here...” You trailed off, so uncertain, sure you shouldn’t be questioning him. “Inst- instead of going straight to Nevarro, I mean.” You rushed to clarify, wincing at the thought he might find your question annoying.

He didn’t turn to look at you, but he responded after a short period of silence. “I- Your injury was my fault. I didn’t want permanent injury caused to you because of- because I wasn’t cautious enough...” He trailed off, sounding more unsure than you’d ever heard him.

You wondered if it was just a guild thing; maybe he didn’t want Greef angry that he’d caused any damage to an admittedly valuable asset. But the word “beloved” kept echoing at you in Kuiil’s voice in your head; you couldn’t shake it.

Not a moment later, the Mandalorian was turning in his seat to face you. He seemed to have reached a decision. 

“I...” He stopped then rested his hands on his knees as if grounding himself in preparation for what he was about to say. You held your breath again, heart in your throat, now sure he’d overheard you and Kuiil, sure he was about to correct the ugnaught’s bad translation skills. “What Kuiil said...” 

He stopped again and you felt your face growing warm. You couldn’t look at him. Could not...stare your own embarrassment in the face - well- visor.

But you figured you could save him from his. What he must be feeling...thinking you thought he’d called you something he never would’ve...and the awkwardness of correcting that...

“It’s alright,” you tried for a light tone that only came out choked. “I told him he was wrong. I know that’s not what- I mean- I knew it was- you were...just...it was clumsy of me and I’m sure- I mean, it was the heat of the moment...we all curse when we’re mad, so, you know, no hard feelings. I’ll try- to be...more careful...” You broke off again, your mortification only growing. You hadn’t meant to imply he’d ever ask you on another mission. You rushed to correct it, wincing, knowing you were only making it worse. “Not that you ever have to partner with me again...I mean...” 

You were floundering and you were sure you both knew it because suddenly he was standing and while you saw his silhouette in your peripheral vision, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him through the tears now blooming at the corners of your eyes.

Your heart began pounding as he approached you, when he crouched down in front of you so you were forced to look at him, and you almost gasped when his hands rested now on your knees.

“Cyar’ika.” A whisper beneath the helmet not captured by the vocoder so you heard it instead in his natural voice dimly from beneath his mask.

You couldn’t find it in you to breathe for several seconds. Less so when one gloved finger came up to your chin, tilting your face further up so you were staring him full in the visor.

“What Kuiil said,” he continued as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “The translation is right.”

He held your face there with one finger, both of you staring, only one actually able to see the other, as if he was waiting for a reaction, a response. But you were too shocked to speak, could not believe this was happening to you.

Finally a stuttered, “But- but you hate me.”

His hand dropped in surprise from your chin to your thigh and suddenly you were feeling warm all over.

“Hate you?” Now he sounded bewildered, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

You spoke but tried not to move the rest of your body, afraid if you did, he would move away, that he would stop touching you. The hand on your knee and the one on your thigh were blazing, awakening a fire in you you hadn’t known you had. 

“You’re- you’re always so quiet. I annoy you. It’s a pain to take me with you.” You voiced suddenly out loud the sum of all the insecurities you had collected over time, over missions with him, things you’d convinced yourself of based on nothing but body language and tone.

The hand on your knee tightened and you released a whoosh of breath, completely in awe of the effect that one contact was having on your body. You’d never felt more alive.

“Cyar’ika,” he repeated, and his other hand left your thigh to take your chin fully in his palm, tilting your face again so you had no choice but to stare into his visor. You closed your eyes at the tenderness with which he said the word in a tone he’d never before used in your presence.

“I didn’t mean to be so rough with you on Coruscant,” his voice willed you to believe him. “When I saw you’d been shot...” His voice trailed off, sounding strangled. “I wasn’t mad at you.” One finger drifted across your cheek, leaving a fiery line in its wake. He brought your very skin to life. “I was scared. I didn’t want-” He stopped here and you felt him move his body closer to yours, his other hand trailing from your knee to your waist. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Your breathing was ragged. This couldn’t be happening. Not to you. These kind of lovely, warm moments did not happen to you. You were made for a dreary life of toil with the Bounty’s Guild, not for soft leathered touches in a cockpit now too warm to handle. Not for feather soft words that tickled your very soul.

But he wasn’t done. “I don’t hate you. I...couldn’t.” Now he almost sounded amused and you opened your eyes to gaze his way. A finger ran over your lips and your breath hitched. “I’m...” He trailed off again, suddenly sounding unsure once more. “You frighten me.”

You started, staring at him like he’d grown another head. “Me?” You said in a voice so squeaky it was almost comical.

He chuckled and it warmed you to your core. You found your lips ticking up in your own involuntary smile. His happiness, little of it that you’d witnessed, was infectious. “Yes, you.” He paused again, then- “I never know what to say. I’m afraid of- of saying the wrong thing.” He hesitated again, looking down at the floor before back up at you. When he spoke again, his voice once again sounded heavy, almost congested. “You can’t know how long- how long I’ve been wanting- this.” His hand flexed around your face.

You were struck dumb. With so many things. Disbelief above all. Wonder as well. And pure joy. You must have hesitated just one moment too long. Or the look on your face must not have reflected what you were feeling. Because in what seemed to be a moment of realization, his hand dropped from your face and he was standing up and backwards, away. The sudden absence of his presence just before you was so pronounced. In the worst way.

“I didn’t mean- I thought maybe-” He couldn’t seem to finish his thought, but clearly he took your awe as rejection. He took another step back.

Before you could second guess yourself, your hand flew out to grab his before he was too far to touch. He froze. But so did you. You willed your lips to work. “Wait.” The word was strangled, but it gave you the strength to speak up.

“If you-” You swallowed the lump in your throat, praying this was real and not some trick on your psyche, some side effect of the numbing agent Kuill had given you. “I’m- Me as well. I-” You finally found the courage to look up at his visor from under your eyelashes. You said the one word you hoped would convey what it was you couldn’t seem to say. “Cyar’ika.” You squeezed his hand, hoping he’d understand.

A beat. Then- He fell back to his knees in front of you, cradling your head against his. You breathed a long sigh of relief, relaxing into him and letting go of all the tension you’d collected since...since you could remember.

Cyar’ika. You couldn’t believe you’d ever thought it a curse word. It sounded so beautiful coming off his lips now, more like a blessing. Or a prayer. You’d never had a favorite word before, but you thought that now, considering everything that one word had just gifted you...you had at least one favorite word.

Forever Tag List: @lesqui @beskars @rosetophighlander @dyn-djarin @keeper0fthestars @mrsparknuts  @hiscyarika @watsonwise

masterlist

[vaguely-concerned]

The Mandalorian s2 ep1 Reactions Post That’s right I’m BACK

and none of you not even god himself can stop me from rambling about space cowboy dad and tiny green baby stuff for much longer than any sane person should 

the TL;DR is that I still love this show SO MUCH, beware a bunch of spoilers under the cut!

- costume design wise I LOVE how badly the armour fits Cobb Vanth

 especially when you get shots with him and Din side by side for contrast:

It’s not just that it’s clearly not made for him (it seems he’s a lot lankier and more wiry than Boba is), he simply doesn’t know how to wear it, and he doesn’t know how to take care of it, because he doesn’t know what it means. Remember when Din’s breastplate got bent completely out of shape by the mudhorn and he had it repaired to the best of his ability long before they even finished with the ship? That’s why he looks so grounded and natural in it and Vanth has sort of a clumsy Spiderman-in-his-first-home-made-costume air about him. (also Boba’s helmet has a beautiful heft and solidity to it in this, they make all the beskar have a Feel and weight to it, makes it feel important)  

I like that Vanth is taller than Din; everything that drives home that Din’s strength doesn’t come from being naturally physically imposing or impressive is a joy to me 

- Boba’s armour seems to be confirmed to be real beskar, which gives me so much hope that they’re doing something actually nuanced and interesting with Boba and Jango’s cultural identities as Mandalorians (whether they do consider themselves that or not, for example), unlike George Lucas’ inexplicable yet unbending stance of ‘They aren’t and never were lol get fucked Fetts’  

the way the triumphant heroic part of the mando music sputtered and died when the man himself showed up tho... uh-oh this might be bad news 

man but that’s a stunning and surprising way to introduce a well-known character divorced from what makes them so iconic, though, just from that I’m going to trust they know what they’re doing (AND they got temuera morrison back I’m so EXCITED!!!). without the armor there’s the face of someone who shared that face with literal millions and at the same time must be looking older than his father ever got to at this point, and that’s super interesting as a starting point to me. (I... guess there’s still a chance it’s a fakeout and that it’s actually another clone, but that would be such a letdown when they’ve already given us this haha) 

- an excellent [mando sighs] moment

this opening scene did a great job of re-summarizing him for the audience -- establishing again that he gives you one chance at dealing with him fairly and if you insist on continuing to be an asshole about it, you’re toast, the fact that his fighting style is so much about being able to tank blows rather than not getting hit in the first place, the horror movie monster mando setup as he stalked the dude down and strung him up, the Poetic Justice predicated on some very careful word choices, and most importantly “where I go, he goes”... all wonderful, I’m sure I’ll watch this scene back for fine details and better looks at the background characters many many times 

(word seems to have spread about him and the baby for real now, which makes me VERY nervous btw)

- Pulserifle’s back! Jetpack’s back! Razor Crest’s back! Grappling line’s back! PELLI’S BACK!!!!!! Tattooine... is also back *Finn voice* Why does everyone want to go back to Tattooine????

I really enjoyed the way they fleshed out and (for lack of a better word) humanized the sand people, though, if you are going back to this desert hellplanet again that is a worthy reason to do it 

- Din swearing :O!! and one of the less egregious star wars swears too, I’m fine with this

- in campaign star wars news: I guess there was sort of both a binbon and a jubna in this ep! what a time to be alive

- as usual I love the jawa. a bright spot in any day, just a bunch of lil goblin-y friends hanging out having the best time loving sparkly crystals and rescuing silver foxes.  

get in loser we’re going shopping

-  

I uh. Do you think. Hm. Is there maybe a metaphor here somewhere. Is there perhaps a hidden, one may say double, meaning, at play, right here, in this image? Who can say, it’s just niggling at me (there’s a very similar set of shots with Toro in season 1, but seemingly the show went ‘I fear we might have gone too subtle with it, let’s amp it up this time’ over the season break loool)

honestly though this dynamic really highlighted everything I love about the ways Din performs masculinity. It’s so much softer and more community/collaboration focused and more comfortable to be around than Vanth’s version -- and Vanth isn’t a bad dude by any stretch of the imagination, it’s not hard to see why he’s like that considering where he’s from, he’s just such a... man. The lone person who can protect this village! The only man who’s got what it takes! It’s all on his shoulders and no one else’s, so do exactly as he says or he’ll put a hole in you! (I think it’s telling that one of his first comments to Din is ‘I’m sure you call the shots wherever you’re from, but ‘round here, I’m the person who tell folks what to do’, because as we as the audience knows, Din very much does not call the shots of where he’s from lol) I guess it says some nice things about the tribe of Mandos Din is from that this is how he approaches things, and it says some good things about Vanth how quickly he comes around to this smarter and less confrontational/domineering style of doing things once he’s been exposed to it and sees how it works. it’s just neat

(it’s smart of Favreau to set his ~*lone gunslinger*~ character up like this, too, it makes him so much more interesting and versatile)   

- With the way Din says ‘a Mandalorian Armorer sent me on my path’ it does seem confirmed that’s the equivalent of a priest role or a sort of shaman -- I wonder if he knows the name of ‘The’ Armorer or if they take on the role as a whole identity 

- the sheer contrast between the two people who wanted Din to take his helmet off for them in this ep tho... wants Mando’s armour off for horrible awful reasons and got exactly what he deserved:

wants Mando’s armour off for entirely sympathetic and understandable, just culturally uninformed, thirsty thirsty reasons & also having drinks together:

 (the sort of... little lick over his bottom lip he does there? keep it in your pants vanth my GODjflsadf he’s a good dude tho he understands and respects the ‘no armour removal before marriage’ thing and backs down gracefully)

- This is a nuanced thing: I don’t think I actually ship it (not in a requited way from Din’s side, anyway, Vanth I’m 100% sure about lol), but the incredible potential for out-of-context-taking of “Take it off, or I will”/”...we doin’ this in front of the kid?” is uh astounding  

(anyone got the vibe Vanth sort of had something with the bartender too? no just me? well well)

- I was never really scared Din was actually dead or hurt b/c baby wasn’t scared and I figure he’d know lol, a very useful fear barometer 

- “What’s the plan?” “Take care of the child” “What are you gonna do?” “I don’t know, but wish me luck *yeets his new bro out of harm’s way before diving in head first himself*” fksdjhfkjlashdfkjsldahfkasldjhfskldajhfsadkjfh WHAT a summation of Din’s entire approach to battle & life, dad please you carry a not insignificant part of my heart around with you be careful 

(Also with the heavy implication that Boba was watching the whole thing... can you imagine him just looking on as Din throws himself down that gullet like a madman. There must have been some ‘o_-7 *headscratch headscratch* ???’ going on for him there)

it’s kind of sweet that din trusts vanth will take care of the baby if something happens though, they really bonded quickly huh 

- the sand people who kept willingly going over to the krayt dragon’s cave are honestly braver and more admirable than anyone else has ever been, I kept just shouting in anguish as they were gobbled up, they deserved better 

- can we talk about how clear it still is that Din’s just... lonely. When he thinks he’s found another Mando and he sounds almost reverent with relief... and then it gets odder and odder (’uh... drinks? I guess... does he have drinking straws with him or -- HE’S TAKING THE HELMET OFF???’ oh buddy)

I wonder if they’re building towards something about him realizing it doesn’t have to be Mandos for him to trust and bond with people longer term? Basically all the characters he’s met and we’ve watched him form attachments to and get help from are non-Mandos -- Kuiil :’^(, Cara, Omera, Cobb Vanth, IG-11 :^’’(, Greef Karga to a degree. Establishing so firmly what he’s looking for this early would be good setup for a ‘what a character thinks they want vs. what they need’ thing later on just on a writing level, anyway, Boba Fett could bring in some interesting points of view about Mandalorianness too   

- baby’s happy gurgles when he sees pelli!!!!!! din speaking sand people language and petting alligator doggies!!!!!!

- pedro pascal’s voice work remains an utter joy to me. din’s measured, earnest, occasionally slightly stilted way of talking is still so good, and then he does things like inserting some more... idk life is the wrong word but that more charged and dynamic tone he took on when he said (”I thought you weren’t a gambler”) “I’m not”. *chef kiss*

- if the pulse rifle’s stun is able to do that to a fuckn krayt dragon... that’s some serious shit din is carrying around with him lol (interestingly the actual shooty pew-pew part of it didn’t seem to do much to it, but then I guess he was shocking it from the inside out and not through thick hide, so idk)

- my only real complaints about this ep: Vanth’s backstory ran a bit long, and not enough baby & dad interaction. the concept art’s got me tho: 

 (din often wears his original/old armour in concept art still, incidentally, don’t know what that’s about)

awwwwwww

+ omfg ;______;

- this sand people person conscientiously brushing a bantha’s teeth... blessed

- Customary flame thrower report: there was a rare useful deployment of the flamethrower. Good job Mando’s flame thrower for furthering the field of diplomacy

ETA: I CAN’T BELIEVE I FORGOT TO MENTION THIS: DIN BEING COMFORTABLE(ISH) AROUND DROIDS NOW!!!! GROWTH????!?! IG-11 WE MISS YOU??????????