#what do they put into the waters of mandalore

[mgparker]

the bodyguard- din djarin

din djarin x f!royal!reader

summary: the princess makes it her mission to know what’s really behind that rigid suit of beskar.

warnings: fluff, mando/princess bonding, nothing crazy happens tbh, hopefully not too ooc, unedited as fuck

<<last chapter! | masterlist!

ੈ✩‧₊˚. iii. a suspect *.ੈ✩‧₊˚.

You step out of your meeting with a relieved sigh, resting your forehead against your palm, leaning back against the double doors of the great hall.

Inside, you could hear the Council quietly disputing their next topic of concern, some trade with a far-off planet.

Between your fingers, you see the Mandalorian standing a small distance away. Straight with a hand on his belt, dutifully aware.

“You didn’t tell Phex about the other night, thank you,” you tell him gratefully.

The Mandalorian nods as always.

You take the lead, breezing past him and heading through the passageway. It held large open windows, from which you could see the village and your people.

A child suddenly stops with a bucket of water, staring right at you with wide eyes and you give him a graceful smile.

Then you make a show of waving in a very childish manner.

It was unladylike of you, but it made the child wave back with triple the enthusiasm. A wide toothy smile on his young face.

He tugs on the dress of who you assume belongs to his guardian. The woman looks down before following his little pointer finger to you. Her eyes widen just as the little boy’s did and she instantly drops into a curtsy.

You nod your head softly, still smiling.

A hand on the base of your spine makes you jump and tear your eyes away from the village. You almost glance behind you but a voice speaks close to your ear.

You freeze.

“Your Highness, we should keep going.”

A flash of irritation makes you purse your lips. But you do as the Mandalorian says, the spot where his hand was touching you beginning to burn.

Your cheeks feel warm, not used to physical touch from anyone in this way.

Maker, you feel delusional.

“Why must you usher me away from my people?” You ask hotly, as soon as he shuts the door to your quarters.

“I—”

In a very uncharacteristic manner, the Mandalorian suddenly stumbles over his words. Seemingly looking for an excuse.

Eyebrows knitting together, you attempt to put two and two together.

“Do you… do you have a suspect? Is that why you don’t want me lingering around others?”

He’s silent.

“You believe it’s one of my people? But why—?”

“I have many names to cross before I can determine who wishes to inflict harm upon you. For now, we must take every precaution necessary,” his raspy voice modulator replies. His stance shifts, hip jutting out a bit. You follow the movement despite yourself.

To your surprise, your sharp tongue fails you.

Retreating into your private quarters, you half expect him to follow you but he stays put in the antechamber. In your position by the vanity, you can still see him clearly.

“You know, I don’t really know much about you,” you pick up a journal and pen. “We spend nearly every waking moment together and I don’t even know if you’re human.”

The Mandalorian makes a sound you can only perceive as a huff. “I can assure you we’re both made of the same flesh and bone.”

You can’t spot a single spot of revealed skin on his person. Every inch is covered by beskar or fabric.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’ve heard of few warriors on Mandalore that choose to conceal their faces to any other living being. Do you belong to this group?”

“You mean the Children of the Watch,” he rasps through his modulator. You make your way further into the antechamber, sitting upon the settee. The Mandalorian stands by the foyer.

“Mhm,” you confirm.

“I simply choose to wear my helmet because it makes my work a lot easier. It keeps my identity concealed.”

“Doesn’t it make you stand out more?”

“Does it?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you think this is a trick question to boost his ego.

“I’d say so. I can’t go anywhere without whispers following behind.”

“Maybe they’re about you.”

You shake your head. “Oh, I doubt it. I am to be their queen but I’ve only ever lived in the shadows since-since—”

There’s a heaviness in your gut as you think about your parents. You try your best not to, dismissing any reminder of them so that you can try to maintain a level head.

It upset you too much.

“You said it yourself,” injects the Mandalorian, sensing your struggle. “You’re to be queen soon. You were born to be their ruler. And you’re kind.” He says it as though it’s the most shocking thing above all. “Perhaps too kind.”

“Are you suggesting that a ruler should be cruel to their people?”

“No,” the Mandalorian rasps. “But it can make you more vulnerable. You see the good in people. It can blind you to the bad.”

You eye him for a few moments, wishing you could read any part of him. But it’s like trying to identify feelings in a brick wall.

You think over your response and begin slowly. “I’m aware many rulers across the Galaxy are tyrants. Leaders of their worlds, but terrorists to their people. Like ants under the shadow of a boot. But I refuse to be like that. And if it means there will be more attempts over my head, then I’m glad you’re here.” You sigh. “I won’t change. Not for anyone.”

The Mandalorian is silent for a minute.

“Then maybe you’re what this Republic needs.”

You stare at him, trying to see past that pitch black helmet. You wonder if he truly means what he said, wishing you were better at handling more serious topics like these.

“Don’t say that around Phex,” you joke as you fight off the warmth blossoming in your cheeks at his comment. “He’ll try to rope me into the Senate more than royal duties require.”

There’s a puff of air that catches onto the modulator of his helmet. Like a chuckle.

It makes you smile a bit.

“You’re still upset with the Senator.”

Your smile drops. You briefly wonder how he knew about your ire, before realizing he had heard your confession in the abandoned tower nights ago.

“No. No, I know why he did what he did.” A certain blacksmith had something to do with that. “But you must know I’m not trying to be difficult. I just—all this fuss, it’s rather complicated seeing as I haven’t been harmed... it is those around me that have met the fate Phex believes is intended for me. My last guard still lies in the infirmary and my handmaiden barely survived an attack outside these quarters mere months ago…”

He squares his shoulders. “I’m quite good at my job, Princess.”

“Yes, but don’t you see? I’m not worried about myself,” you urge desperately. The twinges of discomfort are impossible to hide, you want to outright say it but you find yourself too humiliated.

He reads between the lines. “Princess… it’s not your job to worry about me. I’m skilled in every form of hand-to-hand combat, I wield the strongest armor in all the galaxies. There’s few that have gained the upper hand against me. It hasn’t happened in years.”

Something builds in the room. It gets more serious than you would like. You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Is that a hint of smugness I sense in you, Mandalorian?” You ask as cheekily as you can manage, trying to ease the tension before it gets more uncomfortable.

He stays silent, as if he hadn’t just said more words to you in the last few minutes than he had in the two weeks since he’d been assigned your protector.

You sigh, a small part of you wants to get him to talk again. “In years?” You try.

The Mandalorian bows his head. “Well, as children, you have to fall before you can learn to stand. In combat, the same applies.”

You fight a scoff. “You haven’t lost since you were a child?”

“In training,” he nods.

You knew of the rumors. The Mandalorian was a formidable force, undefeated in his fights. He had deep scarlet red in his ledger, gushing and flowing from his past. Something you’d only managed to learn about through hushed gossip in the village. Nights, before the threats began, when you would dress in a disguise, hidden beneath layers of cloaks, slowly gliding through the marketplace with sharp eyes and even sharper ears.

Even now, as a work-for-hire bodyguard, the Mandalorian managed to rack up quite a reputation. Hefty in price but matchless in his service.

There’s no one better in the field.

Apparently.

You suppose he’s already proven his skill in tracking, staying hidden in the shadows, keeping a watchful eye on you. But you’ve never seen him fight…

Hopefully, you’d never have to.

The soft glow of the sun catches your attention through your windows. They’re sealed shut again, the rope tied beneath your bed reluctantly discarded but you didn’t want the Mandalorian to watch you more than he did already.

You suddenly remember the journal and pen in your grasp and open the book gently.

Flipping to the next empty page, you scribble a few things you’d discussed with Senator Dameron this morning. It’s important for your future plans once you are crowned…

You don’t realize how long you’ve been writing until your hand begins to ache and your eyes have to squint from the lack of light to your parchment. As if he’d been watching your every single minuscule movement, the Mandalorian suddenly crosses the room and lights a wall torch with a device you hadn’t noticed he had strapped to his arm.

The heat of the flames lick at your skin even from the distance between you… the dusk pulls a yawn from deep within your chest. The long meeting with the Council exhausted you.

You longingly eye your bed and then turn to face the Mandalorian again. He stands there like a statue.

“I think…” you’re hesitant to end this comfortable silence you’ve both fallen into so soon. “I think I’ll retire for the night. I’m exhausted.”

The Mandalorian simply nods.

You stand from the settee and glance around the antechamber. Everything was in place, just as you’ve always left it. Nothing out of the ordinary other than the disarray of pillows from where you’d been sitting for the better part of an hour.

Curiosity got the better of you. “Erm— where do you sleep?”

He’s silent.

You absolutely hate it and you knew you couldn’t go back to the stoic figure of beskar you’d been living with before.

You push again. “Do you sleep?”

“It’s my duty to ensure no harm comes to you, your Highness.”

The heavy weight of guilt settles deep within your gut. You frown at him, feeling quite bad about the fact that he was sacrificing his own well being just because you couldn’t be trusted.

Because of your rebellious nature.

In this entire day, you’ve learned a few things about the Mandalorian. Mostly, that he’s attentive. He thinks, despite the lack of sleep you’ve caused him, that you’re kind. He knows about your ire with the Senator despite the mask you’ve carefully constructed around others… and he was able to decipher the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

Despite the fact that technically he was forced to be with you, he still cares enough to get to know little bits of you.

And you feel a deep desire to know him.

“I won’t be sneaking out in the middle of the night, I can assure you. I won’t be making that silly mistake again,” you try to assuage any doubts he had. You want him to rest.

His stance shifts apprehensively.

You take a few steps closer to him, ignoring the childish temptation to hold out your pinky finger.

“I promise,” you tell him genuinely. “Which is a big deal. I don’t tend to make those.”

And slowly, he seems to relax just a bit, his shoulders falling slightly from where they’d been standing tall. His hand leaving its usual spot on his belt. A small puff of air escaping the modulator of his helmet.

“Feel free to make this room your own,” you motion toward the settee which could expand into a decent sized bed.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

You back up a few steps before spinning around and heading toward your bedroom, only stopping before the archway.

“I wish you a good night. Please do get some rest,” you say genuinely, loosening the ties that held your curtains apart. It separated your private chambers from the rest of your quarters.

“You too, Princess.” There’s a new warmth in his tone even the modulator couldn’t filter out.

Satisfaction blossoms in your chest.

A mischievous thought comes to mind, a perfect way to end your night.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to become a bit more acquainted now? Maybe take off your helmet?” You smirk, half joking.

You keep a cheeky smile on your face so he doesn’t feel uncomfortable.

Surprisingly… he gives you a warm chuckle, full bodied and his chest moves up and down.

You shake your head with a small laugh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks and ears. The small nerves that came with a new friendship rising in your tummy.

As you shut the curtains and climb into your bed giddily, you don’t fight the elated smile that’s been threatening to spread across your lips all evening.

And it’s only then that you realize how suggestive your comment might’ve sounded to the Mandalorian and you stare at the wall with wide embarrassed eyes. You try to dismiss the thought, hoping he didn’t think anything of it…

Just as you begin to doze off, the small click of beskar echoes from the antechamber, followed by a hiss and then an unfiltered sigh.

Your heart stops, clinging to the sound of your protector’s voice. Or rather the air leaving his lungs.

The raw sound of it sends a chill up your spine.

It replays in your head until you fall asleep.

don’t worry, pals. the next chapter is where the real drama starts. ;)

taglist:

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[beskarfrog]

wedding night on mandalore

More of the gala au bc I'm a simp for love at first sight, lol

To set the scene, I figure this is a month or two after Din proposed because there's no way Leia is letting Luke get married to a guy he just met. She needs to run at least one background check, no matter what the Force says.

In the intervening time, Luke decided he wanted to keep up some of the Tatooine marriage traditions, which include hand carving and painting a water canteen from japor wood. (Anakin and Han have to go on a field trip to Tatooine to get this wood bc Luke is very busy with Jedi business. It is an absolute disaster.)

And now, Luke is waiting for Din to get back from putting Grogu to bed. He's unpacked the canteen and is nervously thinking over how to give it to his new husband. How does he explain what it means to share water on a desert planet where half the population is enslaved? How does he explain that he's spent the last month carefully carving and painting it so Din would have a piece of his love when they were apart? So, when Din comes back in to their bedroom, Luke just gives it to him, too anxious to do much more than that.

But Din has been to Tatooine. Several times. He knows the culture and knows what Luke just gave him. And he's absolutely floored, because as long as he's been Mand'alor, he's still a bounty hunter at heart. It never ceases to amaze him when someone tries to give him the soft and lovely things of the universe.

[justalittletomato]

Dinner Arrangements (Reader x Maul)

just some fluff and taking the suggestion from @gran-maul-seizure

that Maul would get more feral with his eating the more comfortable that he is with a person

Set when Maul rules Mandalore

tag list: @gran-maul-seizure @hannagoldworthy @patchiefrog @storm89 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @apocalypticwafflekitten @pixiestookourstardust @eyecandyeoz @id-rather-be-a-druid @dukeoftheblackstar @stardustbee

He counted the attempts, this would be thier 10th. As the chrono struck for the evening hours, the Archivist arrived from the servant's entrance with a tray. 

Upon learning that Maul would pull ration bars out in place of a hot meal, the Archivist stepped in a tray or two ladened with hearty foods. 

Mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, stews, filled with meat that had been set to cook for what he assumed was for some time as tender as it was—other times ( most often)  meat cuts thick and still red. 

“ Your brother mentioned it was better for your health,” a kettle was brought over from the burning hearth of the study. His Archivist measured out water for tea before setting down a plate. “Take what you like” 

He had at first scoffed at the action, The Archivist always did such things, carefully watching and making things in a way to accommodate him better. 

“Coddling” he had said to Savage, the older Zabrak merely raised a brow, “Brother, you can order them to stop.”

Maul gave him a look, “Then they will fuss” as if that was why he did not consider it. “But they do not need to make such an effort on such matters,” Maul added. 

Savage sighed, “Then leave it be” 

In the first few attempts Maul just loaded his plate with some of the meat cuts and when the archivist suggested maybe just a bit of roasted carrot, he just left with the plate in hand. The Archivist left with the rest of the full tray and their own plate. 

Maul left the emptied plate at the door when he was done. 

The day after he took a heapful of the vegetables, again leaving the archivist alone with their own plate. 

With the stew? The mouthwatering scent had the Archivist smiling to see the ladlefuls Maul put into the bowl. A frown formed when he left again to eat alone. 

The bowl was completely cleaned of any stew when the Archivist collected the dish, returning back and noting that the remainder had also disappeared. 

On the 10th day, Maul returned the stew bowl empty and took a loaf of bread from the plentiful tray. The Archivist didn't dare move and watched as Maul took apart the loaf to eat. 

The following days were much the same, Maul returning to eat a loaf of bread or filling his cup with more tea. 

The absolute silence as the Archivist watched this time around as Maul served himself and sat back at the table. Maul not bothering with the knife and staring at the fork with skepticism. Today was roasted nyduck. Maul began to eat, sharp teeth tearing and pulling apart the food he had picked. 

He looked straight at the Archivisit, daring them almost. The Archivist set down the silverware picked up their own piece and ate it without the stifling etiquette drilled in. 

Another dinner later and Maul looked up from his plate, today’s meat was rarer than most days. The red dripping down his chin and most certainly staining his teeth. Yet not once did the Archivist shiver or run off or flat out refuse to continue sharing the table with him. If anything the dinners had allowed for maul to devour and freely gorge himself on what was offered. 

“The cooks must loathe the change” He finally said. 

The Archivist looked confused, “The cooks?” a shake of thier head, “Oh no, I have been the one making your dinners, and I quite enjoy learning what you prefer,” They went back to cutting thier more cooked steak with glee. 

Maul wiped at his mouth, the remaining blood staining the sleeve of his tunic, “You? When?” 

The Archivist continued to eat, “Before we started working, they were a bit off-put by the blood but I set them straight,” 

Not once did they react when he tore and ripped his food, if anything they were pleased to see him eat. Before he could stop himself he felt the corners of his mother raise, a smile if it could be called that. He went back to devouring with gusto. The Archivist was pleased with the sounds of hunger saited. 

[lux-ishii]

We and the Mandalorians were wrong about the Darksaber.

The legends of this sword talk about how it's meant to unite all Mandalorians. For some, it's just a lightsaber, heirloom, fancy tool, or symbol of power. But in reality, it's something created with the use of the Force. Force is important here. If you watch Star Wars you know it exists no matter how much some characters will say they don't believe it is.

The Darksaber was never meant to be the symbol of power. It belonged to the first Mandalorian Jedi. Someone who unites two worlds that fought each other for centuries. It was the ancient Mandalorians who gave this saber a different meaning, but it was its creator and the Force that gave the Darksaber purpose.

All the bad/hating comments you can see about the Darksaber plot being useless, or wasted potential are blind to those facts. I will say it just in case, I'm not a fan of how the Darksaber ownership was carried, BUT I do see the bigger picture here.

Favroni didn't want the Darksaber to carry the brutal legacy of ruthless Mandalorians, they wanted to show the true purpose of the Darksaber, the peaceful, uniting one. And the truth is, if not for the Darksaber, all of season 3 wouldn't take place.

Let's say, Bo fights Gideon, and she gets the Darksaber. Din and her telling each other goodbye, he goes to Boba, etc, and wants to be redeemed. What now? Hypothetically:

He drowned in the Living Waters or died because of that Borg creature.

There was a war between Gideon and Bo's forces that weren't that successful because she herself never reached the full potential in that scenario.

Several members of the covert get eaten daily.

Nevarro is occupied by pirates.

Ang so on…

The Darksaber was in Din's hands for a reason, but it wasn't the reason to make him the next Mand'alor, because that is what was adopted over the years when Mandalorians tried to define their own rules of what it means to be a Mandalorian. Din got it for its real reason to unite himself and the others. To put him on a path with his fellow, lost Mandalorian Princess.

Bo and Din lived different lives. Yet, they both are Mandalorians. It is often mentioned how the two groups hate each other. We can even see the hostility on screen. There are constantly reminding us how Mandalore fell because of their own divisions. New Mandalorians, Death Watch, Maulorians, Resistance Warriors, Children of The Watch… Shattered like stars in the galaxy.

Bo-Katan was the first one to break the circle of the constant battle over the power of the Darksaber. We now know she didn't want to challenge Din Djarin for the saber, even if she knew at the stake was everything she worked for. Bo saw beyond the brutal nature of the Darksaber's legacy, beyond the tool that in its signature brought death and power. She saw a human behind it.

With that, the Darksaber lost value for her. She said herself, that she was not sure if that blade will be enough to unite them all. Bo lost all the glorification she had for that weapon. Back in season 2, she was confident that with the Darksaber she will restore Mandalore to its former glory, but now she knows the Darksaber is not special when it comes to power. Because it's people that matter.

Her refusal to take the blade, or challenge Din was a catalyst for restoring the actual way of Mandalorians. The way of unification. From now on, her and Din's life was bound by the Darksaber. Just like the first owner Tarre Vizsla was bound with Mandalorians and Jedi.

The Force will find its way, always. Even if they don't believe in it. But the blade itself rejected Din, on purpose. He never wanted it and it was not his destiny. However, because he got the blade, it triggered a chain of events that resulted in his and Bo's lives crossing together, this time for good.

At the point when it didn't matter to both Din and Bo, the Darksaber was nothing, yet it was everything. As time passed Din and Bo grew to know each other, respect, and understand. They, Mandalorians of two opposite ends, working together, spending time together, being a great team, being stronger together.

They both learn from each other what it truly means to be Mandalorian. And it's not bloody fights every night, it's not killing your own people over differences. It's the care for family, for their tradition, their legacy. It has always been the care about Mandalore and its people.

The blade united Bo and Din, which brings us to a bigger picture here.

The blade won't unite all Mandalorians. But it united Din and Bo, who now are examples for everyone else to see that despite their differences they can work together. It is the relationship that they both developed with each other that is an example for others. Their actions, and what they represent. Both of them see beyond the Darksaber, they see the value of the people behind them. They ditched the fighting nature the old way and restored the blade's true purpose, making Din and Bo the contrast of reason against years of wars that led them to this point.

TLDR; The Darksaber is now uniting Mandalorians not through power, but through real noble values that should be the core of the new age for the Mandalorians. Its (Darksaber's) conflict united two opposite souls that are now the fundament for the future of Mandalore. The weapon was never about power or death, and Bo and Din restored its former purpose even if they aren't aware of it.

[roguetonorth]

More of us

Gif by: @cowboydin

pairing: din djarin x reader

warnings: angst n' yearning, descriptions of injuries, fluff and soft!din <333

summary: they say home is where the heart is— and in a stormy dusk, you learn that the mandalorian's heart belongs with yours.

word count: 4.571k 

a/n: life's been weird lately and my writing consistency has become nonexistent, i have no idea what this is.

• masterlist • send me a request! •

You had made a deal. 

Din would be gone to try to fix what he unintentionally had done. Things were calmer now, though more complicated. His new ship was good, but it barely fit himself. The empire wasn’t after him anymore, but now he was rightful to the throne of mandalore. He had gone through more changes since he found you and grogu than he had in his whole life. The tides were changing greatly and quickly.

You, though, had promised him peace, consistency, and security. The way you found to do just that was not of your liking and certainly not like what life had put you through for so long, but it was working for the both of you right now. And though Din reassured you that there was nothing he was more fond of than having you by his side no matter what, you both had made promises to each other. You had promised to stay put, safe and alive. Din had promised to come back to you; no matter what, no matter when, no matter how. 

And Din was one to keep his promises.

Yet, there had been a while you didn’t see him.

It had been rotations, maybe moons, you weren’t sure. The planet you had settled in was beautiful, hardly populous and anywhere your sight landed in, it was subdued with dark tones of green of its forests. The cottage you had gotten yourself there was modest, the classic type of thing expected to be found in the middle of nowhere. It was a good distraction to do whatever daily tasks you could, getting temporary jobs in the nearest town once in a while, learning new things, just keep things going.

Here, sitting on the trunk that had fallen over part of your little garden, every day felt longer and longer than the previous one. At first, when you arrived, you thought it would be good to finally stay put— achieve your dream of finally staying, living somewhere. But as the days and nights in this calm and lonely place went by, you could all but realize that your only dream had always been only Din. Despite time seeming to carry on to you slowly as the waters of the lake near your cottage, no matter how far and unknown were the stars Din laid down under, you hoped time passed differently for him.

And hoped for your mandalorian’s return you did. 

You knew that, as soon as he could, Din would come right back to you. He promised you he would, that it was going to be alright. And you believed him with the same faith you believed the dawn would come. But at every dusk, as you watched the clouds cloak the setting suns, all you could do was stare at the horizon —alone and in sickening silence— and hope once again, that you’d hear the whirring of his starfighter above the tall trees. Hoping you’d see Din coming back home. 

The solace you had were his words, his trust, and the promise that he’d be with you again. 

Soon. Eventually. One day. 

And as the life you once dreamt of turned into almost some kind of prison, you tried to convince yourself that those promises were enough. That the now seeming distant promise of Din was enough. As you watched the cold breeze and darkness take over the afterglow of another sunset fade behind the heavy and dark thundering clouds, the thoughts of din were momentarily pulled out of your mind. Pouring rain compelled you to force yourself to rise up from your place and gather the freshly chopped firewoods inside. By the time everything was set for the night, the pouring rain had turned into a thunderstorm.

As you listened to the lullaby of water hitting the ground your mind drifted again to where your heart had been. With din. You wondered about how he was, not just physically. Was he getting enough sleep or was he just as restless as he’d been while he was with you? You wondered that If half a galaxy away, he was giving himself time. You were ready to drop everything at any moment just to know if he was okay instead of keep hopelessly wishing on it. 

 Laying on your back, you dropped your arm around your head, staring through the skylight in the ceiling. You tossed and turned in the bed you had got to share with din for much less than you’d like to before he left. To make the hole in your heart his absence caused feel shallower, you imagined once again the whirring of his ship zooming beyond the window louder than it sounded in your memory, hoping it would lull you to sleep. 

But then, the noise shifted. The source of it seems now rather nearby and your eyes shot open. You frowned, fighting the smile the renewed hope it lit within you. It could be him. It could only be him. Though your mind fought the relieved happiness that started to spread through your features for the sake of avoiding disappointment, your body jumped out of your bed and ran to the front door, not caring about the cold of the rain soaked wood of the porch crepting to your bare feet. 

And your hopes crept to you as it kept you standing by the door, looking out to the dark path that came from the woods. Your fingers taped nervously against your thigh — something you had unconsciously started doing some time after you realized din used to. — and you waited. You were almost sure it was him. But not completely. The rain turned severe and thunders rolled over, and you started to brace yourself for another disgruntled and dinless night. 

Yet, your eyes never strayed from the little dirt path.

As a strong lighting enlightened the sky, you shuddered, like you always did when your gaze landed on him. And there he was, your mandalorian, making his way through the woods with drops of water running down his armor, reflecting brightly the hue of the stormy sky. Just as the first time you saw him, he was quite a sight. But more than that, you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt such joy. 

He walked in long but slow strides, and without getting to contain yourself you ran in his direction to meet him halfway.  You practically fell against him, the man having to step back a little to keep you both from falling all the way into the ground. His arms encircled your form in a tired yet just as affectionate motion, the piercing cold of beskar nothing compared to the warmth his presence burnt you with. “You're back.” You smile, your voice weak and muffled by the fabric of his cowl as you hang onto him tightly as if he could slip away from your arms at any moment. Since you met him it had been the greatest of your worries. When he was away you worried for him, and when he was near you worried about him too. But right now, you collapsed onto din, letting yourself absorb the moment you had longed for. 

He was finally back, holding you dearly, letting you know he was there. And though you knew he could leave soon, you didn’t fight the dazzling calm you felt upon his return. One of your hands made its way to the edge of his helm to have him facing you at a proper angle. Tears threatened to run down your cheeks along with the drops of the continuous rain as you smiled for him instead, a smile of relief from the pain his absence made you ache with, “I missed you, you stupid mandalorian.”

He smiled wider for you, though all you could catch was a pleased sigh that escaped his modulator prior to the words he whispered back, “I missed you, too, cyare.”

Din holds you, as if rain wasn’t soaking the both of you to the bone and as if nothing in the galaxy was real but you. You, you, you. Your laugh, your voice, your way to do things, your never ending care for him. He had missed, longed for you. All of the straining nights and battle-occupied tainting days he spent away from you, second guessing himself over and over; and over were these days were he in control of it all. Did he like to admit it or not, he felt weak without you. 

He rested the chin of his helmet gently upon your head, his grasp was as strong as his weary state allowed. You held him back just as heartfeltly, shifting one of your arms from around his neck to hold his waist closer. He shifted, letting out a tiny pained groan upon the action, which he quickly tried to conceal from you out of habit. 

You were pulled out from your moment of boon, suddenly hyper aware of every pant he let out, “What 's wrong?” You parted from him in concern, scanning down his torso as much as you could see given to the situation. You eyed his side, where your arm had been, noticing part of his flight suit was wet and stained evidently from more than just rain. “Din, are you bleeding?”

“Maybe.” he puffed.

“Din…” You sighed, shaking your head before moving to get a better look at him, chasing his hidden eyes with yours. Drops of rain dripped down from his visor to his cowl and it made you smile again, before you remembered he was injured and you were set to find out just how badly. “We need to get you inside.” You called up, one of your arms leaving him as his hand grasped your forearm tightly, desperately trying to keep you close to him, “I'm not gonna let go of you, okay? C'mon, let's get you warm again.”

You positioned yourself beside him, ignoring the fact he had been walking on his own minutes ago, one arm under his and around his torso, taking as much of his weight as he allowed you to. You aided him through the stairway of the porch and then to your bed, supporting him again as he sat on the edge of it with slight struggle. As he let his back rest against the wall, you inspected him again, searching for any signs of injuries you hadn't got to see and knew he wouldn't mention under the lamp’s golden light. 

But he looked okay though. His shoulders were slightly slumped in, from the cold possibly. Through his partially soaked flight suit, you noticed the rest of his muscles relaxing as he let his hands rest on his lap. His visor faced you, but you weren’t sure his eyes were open. As your body adjusted back to the warm temperature of the cottage, you sat in front of him, the tip of his socked toe touching your leg, his boots discarded at some point. Din carried the typical smell of blaster smoke, now wearing out by the scent of rain and grass. 

Your heart ran faster as you took in the sight of him right there— the fact that he was back finally sinking in. The idea of parting from him for any longer than you already had even if it for the shortest of the seconds was absolutely awful for the both of you. Your gaze held his for a while, longer than you meant to, as you tried to gain courage to force yourself to get up. 

“Your bed's gonna get dirty.” Din blurted out, his gaze straying from yours to inspect the light fabric covering the bed. You chuckled at him, being the most din he could be. Innocently worried about the state of your bed when he himself was bleeding out. Oh had you missed him.

“The bed's going to be okay.” You couldn't help smiling reassuringly at him before speaking again, the little light hearted moment he’d just provided you with was enough to give you strength to get up, knowing he would be right there when you came back. “I have to go get the medpac.”

Din offered you a nod, observing his surroundings as you disappeared into another room. He casted his gaze to some furniture, the majority of them weren’t there when he left. All of them made out of local woods and metal. A particular piece drew his attention, a wooden wardrobe set opposite to the bed, which was also new. He wondered about how you’d brought it to the cottage, how you had set it up together. Had you paid someone to do so or had you gained favors from your friends in town? Though you avoided befriending too many people, you had likely made friends. People were attracted to you, like suns attract planets and keep them around with such force. He himself had been a victim of said talent of yours. As you appeared back into the room with the medpac in hands and kneeled by his side, he confirmed to himself that he was nothing but glad.

You set the materials you’d need on the bed near you as you looked up at him, silently asking for permission to lift his shirt just enough to gain access to the wound. He nodded, moving his arm out of the way to support it lightly on your shoulder. You watched him,  trying to ignore the butterflies swirling your stomach upside down upon the action while looking for any signs of discomfort as you lifted the fabric carefully off his skin, grimacing at the sight of the fiery red gash you were met with. You kept your focus on the task at hand as you started cleaning the injury as gingerly as you could, stifling your gaze from trailing up further than it should. 

Of course you had been in this position before. Cleaning and patching din’s wounds whenever he came back from a rough hunt, which was much more often than you’d like to. But when you were done with said work and made sure he was completely alright, you had to admit you enjoyed it. The closeness you shared whenever you took care of him that way, the vulnerability of it all made your heart flutter for longer than what you could keep track of. But now, you could tell something was different. Din was different. Though you couldn't quite name it yet. 

The both of you stayed silent while you worked on him, deep lost in the thought of each other, way too discouraged to voice it out loud. You glanced up at him as you finished cleaning the wound, which clearly had been a vibroblade slash, “It's not that deep. We've been through worse.” You offer him a pained smile as you reach for the materials you’ll need to actually patch him up.

He tilts his head in acknowledgement, dropping it to rest against the wall. You move to get the work done quickly to free him from the distress, patching him up thoroughly, skill you had gained having to tend to him constantly. His hand on your back tightening itself in a fist whenever it started to sting as he clenched his jaw under the helmet. 

You continued your work, stitching the wound, occasionally stealing glances at him when his skin flinches away from your hands.

“I'm sorry.” din sighs, tilting his helmet down in your direction, his tone loud enough to catch your attention but not to cause you to look away from what you were doing. 

Your brows furrow as you shake your head at his self conscious tone, giving his knee a quick reassuring squeeze, “It’s okay, I know it hurts.” 

“No,” He huffs, half a sigh and half a strained cuckle. “Not for that.”

You don’t look up at him while you set the used materials beside you as his visor watches you intently, “Then what for, love?” you ask mindlessly, starting to cover your work with a bacta patch.  

Din feels his heart leap to his throat upon the realization of what you just called him. You called him love. And you did it so naturally. His breath hitches as you chase his visor with a soft look of your own, encouraging him to speak. He stumbles over his thoughts, the sudden raised emotions causing him to get the words out somewhat rushed and bashfully, “I- shouldn't have taken so long. I couldn't send you transmissions,—”

His voice trails off momentarily, and you take the opportunity to shush him to calm again, “Hey, hey. It's okay,” you pause, studying his chest plate steady itself as you gain the boldness to run a hand soothingly on his uninjured side. “You're here now and that's all that matters.” 

A warm fire burns brighter in his chest as he watches your focus turn back to your work as you finish covering the stitches with bacta, then securing it safe with a thin layer of gauze with gentle hands. “Now we just gotta leave this here. But try not to move much.”

Din considers your words briefly before nodding at your suggestion. 

You start gathering everything you used to patch him up from the floor by your side to wrap them up in a towel to avoid a bigger mess. Din stares at you while you do so, even as you discard said stuff in the sink near the fresher’.You knew you looked, at most, awkward. His gaze burnt through you as you returned to the place you’d been before you tended to him. You stare back at Din, wishing your eyes could say as much as your heart wanted him to know. 

He had been gone for so long you’d thought you had forgotten how calm he could get you. Of course you knew that the life the both of you had lived was hard to leave behind and that in such an endangered galaxy, you could hardly do so. But Din was like a haze over all that. 

Seeing the way you watch him, looking for any other way he may need help in the way he always did for you, his chest aches with the urge to lay himself bare of his walls and say or do something. He opens his mouth then closes as the right words escape him, his chest stalling as your eyes find his own. 

His visor avoids you as he speaks next, his voice sparking his uneasiness, "I should get changed.”

You nod at him with a fond smile that hides the slight disappointment upon the knowledge your mandalorian didn’t need you anymore. Rising from your place you offer him your hand as support to help him get up. You stand one step away from him, his leather-covered fist holding on to yours heavily for seconds longer than necessary. You don’t move your hand away from his, instead biting your lip nervously as you stare up at him,“Do you need help?” 

A deep hue of red flushes across his cheeks as the image of you helping him get rid of his layers forays his judgments, “No, I uh… ‘can manage.” 

You draw in a breath and din stops by you, his beskar-covered shoulder touching yours as he towers over you. For anyone else, the vision of the though visor staring down that way would have been the most intimidating sight they’d see. For you though, it looked like nothing but home. The vague feeling that the eyes staring at you behind the darkness looked lovely. Din touches his helmet to the side of your head tenderly and you feel your heart jump then hollow at the action— his way of saying ‘thank you’ without a word. 

Rarely did you need words with him. 

So that, though Din hadn’t said anything, you knew he didn’t have anything to change onto as you observed he hadn't brought barely anything with him besides his weaponry. But you had taken care of that, long ago. You look through your things in the drawer for a specific pair of sweats; they were of dark green that reminded you of his cape, the fabric much more comfortable than what he usually wore. You had gotten him some stuff while he was away hoping it would help you deal with his absence. You place the clothing near the fresher’ door without saying anything. 

By the time he returns, all he wears was what you had given to him along with the helmet. The sleeves of the green sweater rolled up to his elbows. He takes cautious steps towards you and you scoot over to make space for him on top of your bed. You watch him as he takes your silent offer, sitting by your side, his bare hands tightening and loosening itself as he keeps looking away from you. 

A furrow crosses your features as you wait patiently for his helmet to turn back at you with a slight tilt.  A smile replaces your worried features and you tilt your head back at him as you decide to speak, your voice quiet as you catch his attention, “How have you been?”

Din shrugs, a hint of not so sincere humor in his tone, “Alive.” You give him a serious look to get to him to be honest, and he releases a breath. “It 's been hard… without you.” 

“I could say the same thing,” You relax, warmth taking over your chest upon his sincerity as you scoot closer to him, “But I'm always here, you know.”

Din nods, a sweet grin appearing then vanishing quickly from his face beneath the beskar, “I know. It's the only thing I still believe in.” 

You hold your breath, confusion striking through you while you swallow hard, your gaze locked on him with a curious yet nervous glint. “Me?”

There is a pause before he speaks, his chest rising then falling again as the small word comes out heavy as a lump. “Us.” 

Your gaze softens even more at him, your own feelings starting to overcome your senses and you try to push them down, moving even closer to him to focus completely on Din. You’re so close to him now that you can see his breath fogging the lower part of his visor. 

“There’s always going to be us, Din.” Your voice is filled with honesty and affection as you fight the urge to lift your hand to touch his beskar cheek. 

“But I,” Din pauses, his heart racing so loudly in his chest he can barely hear his thoughts. “I want more— Of us.”

Your chest heaves, his meaningful yet dizzying words making you freeze. You'd expect him to say anything but this. The overwhelming feelings you forced yourself to push down every time you saw din bubbling up to the surface altogether as it threatened to somehow burst inside you. “How so?” 

Anxiety builds inside of you as you study him as the question sits heavily in the silence. Din’s helmet tilts almost shyly as if he was scared of what he was signing up for. 

It takes Din all of his faith and strength to voice the feelings he hid from you for so long that it catches in his throat. His uneasy hands shake as much as his voice. “I hate waking up and not having you with me.” He exhales, his voice dull due the modulator yet dripping emotion as he takes another slow, shaky breath, forcing the tight words out through his throat. “I hate when I can’t sleep because you’re not there. And I hate when I can’t have you, not even in my dreams.” 

You about melt away at his confession.

An empathetic frown strikes through your features followed by a comforting smile and you lift your hand to stroke his unclothed neck before you could even think about stopping yourself.  Your heart races as din’s steady breaths work to shush your wishful thoughts upon his words.

Din covers your hand with his then lets it fall to an eager, tight hold of your wrist, “I'm done with doing nothing right, cyar’ika.” His voice is crumbled and hushed as he lifts a hand to brush against your cheek, “Please, let me do this right.”

You shift on your weight and you move closer to him, hesitating even as you let the side of your crossed leg drop over his. You search for a glimpse of his eyes with a look as soft as your voice, “Don’t say that. You’ve done nothing wrong.” You give his fingers a gentle squeeze and he secures your hand in his, running his leather-free thumb across your wrist. “You don’t know how many times I've regretted telling you I would be fine on my own when you left. I should have told you,” You keep your words and actions slow as you urge him to stay close. “Nothing feels right without you.” 

Din’s heart shudders when you embrace him. His eyes fall shut as he absorbs the warmth you provided him with —both emotionally and physically— without the barrier of his beskar. Your hand rests on the back of his neck while he holds onto you, the brown curly strands of hair that escaped from the base of his helm peeking between your fingers as he leaned into you.

Listening to the beat of his heart sync with yours, he slides his arms down your back to keep you close. “We’re alright.” You beam, his helmet draping heavily on the crook of your neck as you hold him close like you had always wanted to. 

When you pull away it’s Din who starts the movement and he does so hesitantly. Even through his visor you can sense his eyes cast yours with longing and a hint of pain, as if only the thought of it was enough to make him hurt. “I don’t think I can leave again.” 

"It 's okay.” You tell him, caressing his wrist and hoping your touch would soothe him away from wherever his thoughts were leading him. “Whatever it is that you want, I'll always follow you, wherever you go. Or I can wait for you, no matter how long. I'm gonna be here.” 

There’s a moment after he drops his beskar forehead to touch yours, but this time Din doesn’t hesitate to speak with full honesty. “My heart’s always with you.” 

You smile and close your eyes, the truth in your voice matching his.  “Then I'm always going to be with you, Din. Through the furthest of the parsecs, with you.”  

Din looks up, tilting his helmet up slightly as his visor brushes against your nose. “Even if we’re apart?”

You squeeze his hand, lifting it to your lips to press a gentle kiss upon his knuckles as you offer him your answer. “Even then.”

“Okay.” Din utters back, the word small and contended as for the first time ever, he doesn’t fight the urge to embrace you tightly.

You bask in each other’s arms, for a long moment and no time at all— knowing that no matter how difficult things were or could be, no matter how unknown and opaque the stars you laid beneath were, as long as you had each other, you’d always find home. 

Taglist: @girlofchaos

wanna be added to the taglist? send me a request via asks!

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest Vol. 2 - Fic Recs

Here's everything I added to the Pedro Fics Spreadsheet in the last week with my unedited ramblings attached (the notes I make immediately after reading, often unhinged).

Surrender - a Joel series by @ezrasbirdie

-> ofc daisy, grumpy/sunshine but the sunshine has depth and the grumpy isn't mean. ellie is excellent in this

Hayloft - a Joel WIP @atinylittlepain

-> dancer!reader (stripper), cute awkward joel, smutty smutty smut. reader is kind of soft!dom?

High Enough - a Joel/Dieter series by @psychedelic-ink

-> Actor!reader and your bodyguard Joel hookup with Dieter Bravo at a party and it is SO hot

Short Days, Long Nights - a Joel series by @frannyzooey

-> post outbreak!joel but it's also domestic bliss. the filth is filthy but the slow burn makes you work for it. This is gorgeous and beautiful and sweet but also so fucking hot!

What he didn't do - a Joel one shot by @joelsgreys

-> divorced!reader and Joel finally go on a date after he's been crushing on you for 10 years and it's very cute

Build Me Up Buttercup - a Joel series by me

-> You're failing Dr. Miller's architecture class and you decide to confront him about it.

Best Laid Plans - a Dieter series by @prolix-yuy

-> Dieter Bravo, legendary Hollywood playboy and a tabloid’s best friend, never thought he was worth much more than a good night to a parade of faces. Until Murch, the editor on his film, turns his world upside down. Now he’s got big plans to do the same as he drags her into the deep end of his hedonistic life. He’s got a guy for everything, but she’s got something he’s always wanted - a big enough heart (and patience) for him to fit in.

Breaking the Girl - a Joel one shot by @cinematicgf

-> Your boyfriend sucks, but you go home with him for the summer anyway. His neighbor and boss Joel Miller is decidedly not an asshole. And he's really hot.

Me-use - a Claude ;) one shot by @boliv-jenta

-> Just fucking trust me you have to read this

Toyin' with them older guys - a Joel one shot by @proxima-writes

->Hot bartender joel fucks with your sex life... and then ya know

The Babysitter - a Joel one shot by @proxima-writes

-> Babysitter reader seduces single dad joel and it is everything you could ever hope for, but it also leaves you wanting more (in the best way possible)

Push and Pull - a Joel one shot by @javiscigarette

-> Dom!Joel, pretty fuckin rough sex, but like Joel is a consent king and the aftercare is so sweet.

Deserve it - a Joel series by @fake-bleach

-> Joel's wife is cheating on him but it doesn't really matter bc you're giving him the best blowjob of his life

A Girl Walks Into A Bookshop - an Ezra series by @oonajaeadira

-> Ezra owns a bookshop and you get pulled into his store one day. This is the softest, most beautiful little story. Give yourself the gift of reading this please.

Vaya con Dio - a Dio one shot by @atinylittlepain

-> Dio thinks he has it all figured out, but you put him in his place

This Will Be The Day That I Spy - a Jack series by @oonajaeadira

-> You go on a blind date with Jack and it's full of surprises

Restoring the Roots - a Joel series by @bearsbeetsbeskar

-> Tommy and Ellie try to convince Joel to see a therapist... This is going to be really good...

A Long Day - a Javi P one shot by @jkprincess10

-> Have you ever wanted to rim Javi Peña? If not, you will after reading this

The Living Waters of Mandalore - a Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

-> Din discovers your uhhh living waters... and he's really excited about it

There's a lot of Joel on here this week... I was going through something lmao. I tried to throw in a few other guys for y'all too though.

Enjoy <3

[ilikereadingthisiswhatilike]

Din Djarin

A collection of Din Djarin x Reader Stories. Give love to the writers.

Not Smut

Pregnancy @divinehedons Summery: No thoughts, just overbearing din djarin and pregnant reader. Warnings: Implied Rape, Pregnant Special Tag: Pregnancies AU

Sleep @sofasoap Summery: The clan of three travelling around the galaxy, still in search of Jedi for Grogu. Warnings: None Special Tag: Cute, Family AU

Jealousy @forever-rogue Summery: Reader feels insecure about Bo and Din relationship. Warnings: Angst Special Tag: None

Memories of You @multific Summery: He was only trying to protect you and the kid, his family, but as a result he lost something near and dear to him, his memories of you. Warnings: Angst Special Tag: Cute, Family AU

Family @thesealard Summery: Grogu has a nightmare and you and Din try to calm him down. Warnings: Angst Special Tag: Cute, Family AU, multichapter

Not Just A Passenger @oswildin Summery: You and The Mandalorian have a complex relationship. He got under your skin, and you felt he didn’t trust you. However, slowly you begin to realize and understand it wasn’t that at all… It was quite the opposite. Warnings: Angst, Injury Special Tag: Cute

Welcoming Home @mewhenimsad Summery: He is home. Warnings: Angst Special Tag: None

It’s Just Paint @peterparkersnose Summery: Din and Y/N struggle with the parenting lifestyle.  Warnings: None Special Tag: Cute

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐒. @psychedelic-ink Summary: Din initiates you into the cult. Warnings: Dub Con, Blood Special Tag: Cult

Smut

Fallen Gods @divinehedons Summery: The life of a bounty hunter rejects conformity with humanity. When the Mandalorian abandons you on a job, you swore to yourself you would never forgive him. That doesn’t mean it would stop him from repenting; no matter how twisted it turns him against you. Warnings: Rape, Angst Special Tag: Breeding Kink, Dark

Simply Din Djarin @absurdthirst Summery:  Din decides to spend a week on a remote planet, sans armor to swim in the waters and come to terms with what he needs to do. Meeting you when you come to your swimming hole, things become intimate and you have no idea the handsome naked man in front of you is a Mandalorian. He’s simply Din Djarin. Warnings: Angst Special Tag: Shiny Dipping, Cute

IN A PERFECT WORLD, YOU LOVE ME @theidiotwhowritesthings Summery:  On the way to visit an old friend, you and Mando find trouble. Both of you are subjected to a drug that puts you in your perfect world. But, when you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t, how do you know what to trust? Warnings: Angst, Drugs, Special Tag: Cute, multichapter, Dirty

Jetii Queen @mewhenimsad Summery:  Just freshly engaged, you go to a Gala. Warnings: None Special Tag: Mandalor Din

Someday @rinixo Summery:  After a wedding, desires they have kept at bay spill forth. There’s no coming back from this. Warnings: None Special Tag: None

Original Sin @gaiuswrites Summery:  Things change after Grogu leaves. People change. No one is exempt. Warnings: Rape, Inappropriate Use of Darksaber Special Tag: Dark

Sinner @mandoalorian Summery:   The Mandalorian has been attending confession for weeks now, with the sole intensive purpose to see you.  Warnings: Dubose Consent Special Tag: Dark, Religion Kink, Dirty

IN ANOTHER LIFE @alloftheimaginesblog Summery:   The Mandalorian has you meet the mandalorian when he comes to your home planet and all of a sudden things seem right. that is, until, he has to leave. Warnings: None Special Tag: Cute

Pearl Rosary @sweetercalypso Summary: Priest of Mandalore listens to your sins during confession Warnings: None Specials Tags: Priest AU

Ft. Bo-Katan Kryze (No Smut)

Forbidden Cravings @inklore Summary: Stay in your room; that's all you had to do. a simple demand that you planned on following until something goes bump in the night and you're trapped between two monsters Warnings: Dub Con, Blood Special Tag: Vampire AU

[sofasoap]

Mending Heart

Pairing : Din Djarin x f!reader. featuring Grogu, Paz Vizsla + OC.

Summary:  sequel  to heartbreak and Wrenching heart. Din is a big di’kut. His ad’ika to the rescue.

Slightly AU-ish, Din didn’t get N1 after Razor Crest got blown up.he got something similar. And his relationship with Paz isn’t that bad. He is still trying to redeem himself but didn’t get kicked out of the covert completely. Mummy Armorer is still pissed off at him though. 

Warning: Mature theme. strong languages. Alcohol use. 

English isn’t my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. 

A/N : I seem to be writing all the Din fic for the University students at the moment to push them on ( Trust me, I know your pain. been there done that)   @groguspicklejar and @deakyjoe this is for both of you.

MASTERLIST

I am happy, I am back with Armour buir.

But where is Singing buir?

“She’s not here anymore, ad’ika.”

Why do you look so sad, armour buir? Armour buir isn’t happy anymore, I can feel it in the force.

There’s singing buir! We found her! She is happy to see me! But why isn’t she happy to see Armour buir? She is sad too.

Why are you crying Armour buir?

“I messed up, ad’ika. I really messed up.”

“You are a di’kut.” “ I know.” “ The biggest di’kut out there.” “ You don’t need to repeat that.” “Utreekov.” Din sighed. Sitting back to back with Paz, he Lift his helmet up slightly, downing another shot of spotchka. Trying to drown himself in alcohol and sorrow. Paz turn towards Grogu, “Gar buir kaysh mirsh solus” ( your father is an idiot ) “ Coo??” “ Can you not teach my ad’ika weird words.” “ He needs to learn some Mando’a you know.” Paz grab the cups, pour both another serving of spotchka. “Did you present her with a courting gift?” “.. I did, with my signet on it too.” “Hmm. Then I don’t know where you went wrong then.” “ Did you explain to her what it means?” Paz’s riduur chimed in as she put a plate of fruit and dried meat down for the men to snack on. “......NO.” “ I swear you Mandalorians always assume everyone should know all the hidden meanings behind the actions.” She sighed. Turning to Din, “You know Paz chuck me a knife the day after he saved the village, hover around me for days, expecting me to say something to him.”  she rolled her eyes. Din remembered. Paz kept sneaking out to the village, and when the Armorer ask him what he is doing, all he replied was, “Just to see everyone is alright at the village, I have to make sure the security is up to date.” 

His vod was so love struck by the woman who fought valiantly to protect her village, he didn’t even care she is a non-Mandalorian, he dug through his family weapon cache and gifted her a sacred heirloom. Pass down only from Father to son. It’s not until his now-riduur went up to him and push the knife back into his hand, “ I don’t need another knife, I have plenty in store, we got a stash full of weapons in the armoury here, Mandalorian. Keep this for your covert.” Only then did Paz realise his mistake in approach. 

He remembered laughing at Paz, from the great Vizsla clan,  who could have ANY Mandalorian, hell, there was no lack of warriors trying to throw themselves at him, he went for a non-Mandalorian. The chaos that ensued after that. How the tide turned. 

“ I am a di’kut.” Din groaned. “ I did tell you.” “Shush Cyare. Stop making fun of your Vod.” Sitting down by Paz, she consoled Din, “ Look, you can still redeem yourself…” “ I feel like I am redeeming myself a lot lately. This is probably going to be more impossible than finding living water on Mandalore.” “ As non-Mandalorian.. I can suggest gifting her more… conventional gifts? Flowers… sweets.. What does she like?” Din look at Grogu,  what do YOU like? Oh dear.

“Patu!” Turning your head as you heard the sound, narrowing avoiding the sharp edges of the wingspan of the ship you are fixing. Peli has been commenting on how you are really not concentrating lately. Connecting the heat exhaust vent to the life support system,  putting the fuel intermix back to front. You are embarrassed. You pride yourself in quality jobs, and here you are, mind wandering over the places. Giving back the vibroblade back to Mando was your own way of cutting the tie with him completely.  Forget about him. Moving on. He doesn’t care about you. You convinced yourself. Yet. You find yourself thinking of him even more. No. You just miss the little green pea. “ Patu patu!!” Now you feel a little hand smacking your thigh. Looking down, Grogu was there by your feet, trying to get your attention. “What are you doing here?!!” you shuffled out from under the wing, picking him up, he extended his two little arms, and presented to you dried flower in his tiny claw-hand. “ Aww, thank you little pea, is that for me?” You look around the hanger nervously, Grogu is here, does that mean Mando is here too?? Makers, that is the last thing you want. You spotted Boba Fett standing by the hanger door. What is the Daimyo here?? “Greetings Daimyo, what can I do for you today? Do you require me to fix one of your transporters ....” “ Relax, please, just call me Boba Fett. No need to be so formal. I am babysitting the little green thing here for the day. He insisted on coming here and giving you the flower.” You let out a breath of sigh. At least Mando isn’t here. The way Boba Fett is looking at you, you feel like there is something else he isn’t letting on.  Few weeks later, Grogu is back again, this time with a little colourful stone in his hand. Fennec is with him. With amusement written all over her face. Next was some hard-boiled sweets. The time after that was a bottle of perfume from Pasaana. A scarf from Coruscant. Cloud puffs from Bespin. 

Wasaka berry from Khashyyyk.

Five-blossom bread from Naboo. Your favourite pastry from your younger days. Now you are getting more and more suspicious about the gifts. The little Pea definitely didn’t choose them. Deep down you know who was instructing him to bring the gifts. Coward. You thought. Getting his son to do the job for him. “We got a secret admirer here?” Peli teases you. “You mean either the Daimyo or Fennec? I doubt it.” You rolled your eyes. The gift just keeps coming. Always Grogu bring them, accompanied by either Boba or Fennec. Until that night. Peli has gone out again, to one of her dates. “Zeltrons,” she commented, “ great drinking companions, they hardly get drunk with their second liver!”

You decided to take advantage with a bit of solo time, dragging one of the crates to the centre of the hanger, enjoying the beautiful light of the three moons with a glass of light liquor you save up for occasions. Hearing the slight clunk sound of metal door opening, you assume Peli was back from her outing, you made a comment without turning around, “Your date didn’t go as planned, Peli?” You were met with the sound of heavy boots coming towards you. That’s not Peli, alarm bells ringing in your brain. Why didn’t the security droid alert me? Out of habit, your hand went to your belt, grabbing the vibroblade, only to realise, you returned it to its original owner. Worse of all, you left your blaster in your bunk. 

Slowly turning around to face whoever the intruder was,  you saw something shiny reflecting under the moonlight. It’s Din. He strides towards you, only stopping about arm length distance away. You always admire the confidence he exuded when he walked towards his bounty, his prey. His helm tilting down slightly, looking straight at you. Suddenly that confidence he was showing disappeared a little. You swallowed hard. Why is he here? 

He spoke first. “... .You got all the presents?” “Yes.” So your guess was right. It was from HIM. Fidgeting your hand, you wait for him to say more. Instead, he reaches around to the back of his belt, and brings something forward to present to you. 

The vibroblade. The same one he gifted to you before. “I… In… In Mandalorian culture,” You can hear the wavering in his voice with the slight distortion through the modulator. “ We.. gift a weapon, with our clan signet on it.. To.. um… someone we intended to court..” He was shifting a bit on his feet. “ I.. I am sorry I didn’t explain it to you the first time I gave it to you.” You can tell he was getting nervous. “I came to apologise and.." he was practically begging by this point, “ Please forgive me. I have been a di’kut.. An idiot for pushing you away. I was only thinking for myself.. I didn’t realise you were just as equally as hurt after losing Grogu..”  “Please come back.. We miss your presence…. I MISS YOU…” You reach towards his helmet, he flinches and moves back a bit with instinct. Pausing a bit, silently letting him know you have no intention of removing his helmet, he shifts towards you a little bit more. Pulling him down, you rest your forehead against his helmet. You hear a gasp was too soft to be picked up by the modulator.  Din wonders if you know the significance of the action. “You are the biggest, most idiotic, most frustrating Mandalorian I ever dealt with, Din Djarin.” Din’s knee nearly gave out upon hearing you using his real name for the first time. “ I convinced myself to forget about you, but how can I forget our time as a family? As a clan of three? You were too good to us, Din….” Tears were slowly falling down your cheek.

“ I realise you care about us in your own way, but you really need to tell me what is going on in that beskar brain of yours.. I can’t guess what you are thinking all the time.” You were sobbing by now. Din moves one of his gloved hands towards your face, wiping away the tears. “You were ignoring me, not telling me what your problem was, I was so hurt. I thought we had something going on between us, yet you keep pushing me away, I don’t feel wanted anymore, just like my family.  Throw me away when I was no use to them.” Din’s heart tightened. This is the first time you let out any details of your former life.

“Yet, you wouldn’t let me go.” sucking in a deep breath, you continue pouring your heart out. “ I am not an object Din, you can’t trap me with you without giving me one good damn reason. So I ran. I ran as far as I could. But you still found me.” “ By pure chance.” he softly added. “ By pure chance. From that point I was actually believing the Force was leading us together. I wasn’t planning to stay here this long.” “But I didn't want to get hurt again. I want to cut my ties with you once for all.” “ That is why you gave me the vibroblade back.” Din replied with saddness in his voice. “ I didn’t know the significance of the gift. Though, even if I did, I would still have given it back. For what you have done.” Din looked down to the ground with shame. 

You sighed.  Pulling away from him, you push his hand with vibroblade back towards him. 

His heart dropped. 

“I am going to ask you again, do you miss me only because you have Grogu back and you need a maid to look after him again? To have someone fix your ship, clean up after you two, and throw me away again when I am not needed anymore?” You growled. “NO! It’s not like that Mesh’la… I..” He stepped forward and blurted out.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” 

Your eyes widened. You vaguely remember the meaning of the sentence from your studies.

“I will know you forever..” You whispered. Din’s head whipped up, shocked. “ you…. “ “Yes Din, I know what it means.” you reach out to his hand and take the vibroblade from him. “ I can’t leave yet , Din. There’s too much work going on for Peli to deal with on her own. Come and pick me u in a few months. In the meanwhile. I will keep this gift of yours.”

Din pulls you into a tight hug. You bury your face in his hard beskar breastplate. It’s a start. You’ll see how this goes. You are allow yourself to hope again. 

If in doubt, use Grogu. He will melt anyone’s heart. Din was trying his luck with whatever he could find, hoping to hit the mark with one of the presents. Reader has been hurt so deeply, she needed a lot of reassurance from Din before she accepted his love. I can’t believe i am saying this.. I might write a bloody part 4. Gosh. 

If i feel like it...I might write about Paz and his riduur’s comedic courtship sometime. 

Thank you so much for reading, any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 😀

Tag list:

@frogtits1, @READINGFAN, @memester-png @jake-g-lockley @novaethecosplayer @foxgirl95

[corazondebeskar-reads]

well it's love, make it hurt - chapter thirteen

well it's love, make it hurt series

thirteen: there's one thing I can do nothing about

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Words: 2k

Summary: you grapple with the aftermath.

Warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, discussions of genocide, the purge of mandalore, descriptions of grief, survivor's guilt, suicidal ideations, vomit (no description, just mentioned), angst

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika

4 ABY - Spring

The hunter says something more, but you don’t hear it. You see his lips move under his greasy mustache, but you may as well be underwater.

You can breathe about as well, too.

Everything throbs. Your skin. The lights.

Your room is dark. You aren’t sure how you got there. You’re standing in the middle, datapad still clenched in both hands.

Something’s wrong.

You barely make it to the bin in time.

When you finally peel yourself off the floor, dried sweat like cement, it’s dark. Your vent is shut, and no moonlight creeps between the slats. You’re confused, for a moment, about why you’re there, until you vomit again and are grateful that your earlier self had the sense to stay put. You try to return the favor by lying back down.

You think you sleep. It’s a hazy thing, too close to waking to dream.

You’ll long for that soon. But for now, your brain seems content to shelter you while your body handles… whatever it’s handling.

Your head hurts more when you try to think about it, so you don’t, hopeful that the bug will pass and you’ll feel better soon.

When you wake, the room is bathed in the orange evening suns, sliding through the vent to cover you in bars, like a cell. You drag durasteel-heavy limbs until they’re somewhat where they should be and push to stand. Darkness swells, and you almost end up back on the ground.

Water, you think, desperate instincts clawing to the surface. You’ve survived twenty years on your own; your body isn’t about to let you die.

As you grab the canteen from your nightstand and drink, you backtrack that thought. It’s sitting wrong.

Oh, right. Twenty years alone, and another year with—with…

You don’t hear the glug of the water spilling from the canteen over the sound of your empty stomach trying valiantly to exit your body. You don't make it to the bin, that time.

It takes two more days for you to cry.

In one of the moments where you’re worn down, when the tears have eroded you and then shriveled away, you think I should have gone with him. Not to Taanab. You should have insisted on staying on the Crest.

It’s not delusions of heroism. It’s something much more alluring, something that threatens to eat you up and never let you go.

An idle thought that pulls you to shore. You wish it hadn’t, because you wouldn’t have had to suffer it. But somewhere in the back of your mind, something tells you that line of thought is disrespecting yourself, thereby disrespecting him.

To your fractured mind, weak with hunger and dehydration, reeling still from when you had broken it, it makes sense. The sincerity of it, beyond its original context, sits in your heart and urges it to keep beating.

It’s disrespectful, not because of who he was to you, but to his—to his memory.

The last bit takes you a while to swallow.

Food takes longer.

After a few more days, you run out of rations from your pack. Ones leftover from the Crest that you had stowed away for an emergency. There weren’t many, and you couldn’t get them down without water.

Eventually, you moved your camp to the fresher, where you could hit the cold faucet if you had the right angle and shove your canteen under the flow.

Made it easier when your scant meals came back up, too.

You knock on the wall until your neighbor Krista comes over, pissed. She actually physically recoils when she finds you in your blanket heap.

“Girl, what is wrong with you?”

“Sick,” you say. It’s not a lie. Not really. “Credits in the nightstand. Food please.”

She takes pity on you, and you can’t even be mad about it because you’re feeling pretty pathetic. She sticks her head back in after fetching the money.

“I’ll run out and grab you something, but, uh. It’s fucking disgusting out there.”

Kriff. You forgot you had gotten sick on the floor. But that’s as much energy as you can muster to care, so you rest your head on the cold metal wall and close your eyes.

Krista brings you a selection of bland foods and a tonic to help with the nausea. Then she says you’re on your own because there’s no way she’s coming back in here. “Don’t die, or whatever.”

It’s another week before you can leave the room. It’s not easier, exactly, each day. It’s more like your body gets its shit together so your brain can have a turn fucking up. You autopilot through showering, brushing your teeth, and cleaning the sick off every surface.

And you cry. A lot. Sometimes, it’s a catastrophic event where you can’t breathe, can’t stop the awful keening that rips your throat, can’t feel anything but agony. Sometimes, you’re the catastrophic event. You break things. You dig your nails into your skin and squeeze. You throw everything in the room against a wall.

Most of the time, though, it’s just a fact. You’re on Nevarro. You’re alive. There are tears in your eyes. It’s more of a state of being than a physical phenomenon.

In the weeks that come, you hate yourself for it. Falling apart because a man you had already left had died. It makes it easier to berate yourself into coldness. You like to lie to yourself and say you weren’t waiting for him, anyway. You were just saving credits to leave.

And you do.

The first time you leave the room is the last. You get it neat and clean and pack the few possessions that survived your wrath.

You go down to the cantina and are glad that no one you know is there. You approach the first hunter at the bar and ask if they have a ship.

When they say yes, you hand them a stack of credits and ask if it’s enough for passage.

When you leave, it’s been just over a month since you decided to stay.

4 ABY - Summer

“We’re running low on credits and supplies,” the Armorer says from the co-pilot seat. From your seat, Din thinks.

He nods. They had been hopping from port to port, just a few of them on the Crest. The others would lay low, ships parked in abandoned places, and wait while Din went into a town and bought only as much as he conspicuously could. Fuel was even harder to obtain.

“It would be more efficient and practical to find a permanent location,” she says. She pulled up the star map on his holoprojector. “Somewhere with a guild location. I assume you are prepared to return to work?”

“Yes,” he says, though he feels adrift among the stars. Mandalore and her people are gone, the remains scattered throughout the galaxy. As far as they know, they’re the largest group of survivors. Five on the Crest, including the Armorer and himself. And twelve ships, with ten Mandalorians each, trailing behind them. Half of them are younglings.

“Why do you have a hair pin?” Paz says. “Been bringing whores back?”

Din looks up sharply. He doesn’t answer right away, flipping through possible excuses. He seizes a distraction. “Open it.”

Paz flicks it open and recognizes the serrated edge, the sharpened tip.

“I worked with another hunter on a few bounties,” Din says, stomach churning but his voice steady. “Dropped her off at a port before I came home. Must have left it.”

He wants to snatch it from Paz’s hands so he can hide it away with the hints of you. He had pried open a panel in the bunk and stowed them away from the wandering eyes of his vod.

He would give them back to you when he got to Nevarro.

He had tried to leave a message, tried to let you know it would be longer, but he would still come back to you, but the protocol droid who took the comm said they wouldn’t hold a holo for anyone. He had some choice words in response, during which the line was cut.

Around his vod, he feels ill for thinking of you with the scale of all they had lost. But it didn’t extinguish your absence. It was just another piece of him missing. Maybe he’d feel less like a hollowed-out helmet piloting an empty suit of armor, as alive as a droid, if he had you to hold at night.

He’ll find it, whenever Paz gets bored and sets it down. It’s your last one, he’s sure it will be missed. He’s less sure he will be.

“Cantonica is too close,” the Armorer says, drawing his and Paz’s attention back. “Tatooine too risky.”

“What about Batuu?” Paz says.

“That could work,” the Armorer says. “The Empire isn’t likely to travel as far as wild space to find us.”

“It still has a fairly popular port,” Din says. He’s sweating, and his heart is ticking too fast. “I’ve never seen it myself.”

The Armorer hums and resumes studying the map.

“What about Nevarro?” she asks.

Din’s heart skips a beat. He swallows the bile before it climbs too far. “It’s mostly abandoned. Many hunters come and go from there, but beyond the main city, it’s mostly mountains and lava fields.”

“Caves surrounded by lava,” Paz says. “Could be defensible. Hard for the average trooper to reach.”

“Then we shall scout it out. Return to town to stock up for the others.”

“Yes, alor,” Din says, grateful for an excuse to depart immediately before their visors pick up his escalating vitals.

As soon as they land, he leaves the Armorer and Paz to scout under the guise of meeting with the guildmaster to see if there will be enough work.

When he slides into the booth across from Karga, he scans the cantina thrice over for a trace of you. He has to clench his fists to keep from seizing the man by his lapels and shaking him. But Karga doesn’t know who Din is, so he tries to do what he must for his people.

“I’m looking for work. Consistent work.”

“You’re in luck!” Karga grins. It’s off, like he’s hiding something. Or he’s just nervous, Din realizes, as Karga chuckles weakly.

The man leans in and says, in a low but not quiet voice, “I have to ask, are you a real Mandalorian?”

“Yes. How many bounties do you have?”

Karga leans back. Gestures to a droid for a drink. “Many. If you’re as good as they say, you’ll be swimming in credits.”

Din grinds his teeth. He doesn’t appreciate the way Karga seems to want to make a show of this.

“How many can I have right now?”

“Well, that depends. I’ll have to get you in the system and pull up your records.”

“I’m in your system. I’ve returned bounties here before.”

“Fantastic! Let me get one of my assistants to get you sorted.”

“No. You will do it.”

Karga raises an eyebrow. No one seems to notice the brief showdown, which he’s thankful for, as he caves to the Mandalorian quickly. He pulls out his datapad and pulls up the file.

Din is less of a patient man, now, but still, he waits. He waits until he has three bounty pucks in his hand and the promise of more if he’s quick about it.

“When I was here last, I was accompanied by another hunter. She stayed here to work with you. Where can I find her?”

“Who?” Karga asks.

Din gives him your name. Karga studies him carefully, sipping from his glass.

“There are a great many hunters who work with me. I can’t say I remember.” He hadn’t given the girl any thought since she took off, but he does remember being irritated that she disappeared without notice, leaving him with a vacant room to rent.

The Mandalorian rattles off your chain code. Karga raises an eyebrow. He had seen many hunter-hunter relationships turn violent, and besides, “It would be against the code for me to give you information about another member.”

When the Mandalorian snarls and stands, Karga’s two guards have their blasters aimed in a flash. For a moment, Greef thinks the hunter is about to cause a scene.

“I’ll tell you this, as a favor to a new friend. She wasn’t here long and didn’t say anything when she left.”

Din turns sharply and stomps out of the cantina.

Karga helps himself to a refill.

*title from "New American Classic" by Taking Back Sunday

[vodika-vibes]

So, because I'm me, I'm thinking of a Star Wars AU. And this is really just going to be a train of thought writing thing.

So, Ahsoka is 14 years old, and she has recently become Anakin's Padawan, and she's not sure.

She's not.

It's nothing against Anakin, it's just that he's very...young. And very male. And very human.

And so very young.

So when she returns from her first mission, and has her first lessong with Skyguy (He had the men shoot at her and her head kinda hurts still and her hands won't stop shaking but that's normal, right?) She makes her way to the archives.

She finds the old mission records and she reads through her Master's missions, missions he took as a padawan...and quickly determined that his mission load was boring.

So she starts reading about Master Obi-Wan's missions.

She reads about Bandomeer. She reads about Melida/Daan. She reads about the two years on Mandalore.

And she's like, "Huh, I guess it could be worse." And then she puts everything away and carries on.

Her first night back at the temple, in a room in an apartment shared with Master Kenobi and Skyguy, was rough.

She never had a hard time sleeping in the temple before, but everything ached, and she had a blinding headache behind her eyes, and she just can't stop shaking now that she's not moving -

So Ahsoka climbs out of bed to curl up on the couch.

It's obvious to her that Skyguy isn't here, but Master Kenobi is awake and sipping tea in the kitchen, so she joins him.

He's nice. Soothing. His presence feels like water rippling over her, and it's enough that she accepts his offer of tea.

And, while they sipped their tea and got to know each other, Ahsoka lets slip the training she had that day and how she feels awful still, and how she can't stop shaking.

And Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi drops his mug and stares at her in abject horror.

She makes a weak joke about how it could be worse, but it doesn't wipe the look off his face, and when he draws her into a tight hug, his force presence washing through her in the way that her old creche master used to do the same thing, she sniffles and she buries her face in his shoulder and starts to cry.

She knows, deep inside, that what happened was wrong, and the fact that he agrees is enough for her to agree to an immediate trip to the halls of healing.

Personally, I think this would have changed everything. But I'm tired and can't quite think it all the way through.

[kanansdume]

I was really rooting for a well-done Bo-Katan redemption arc in this season. As weird as it was that Bo-Katan just sort-of took over as the main character of the show and sidelined Din, I've been wanting someone to focus on Bo-Katan's motivations and history for a while now and it seemed like we were primed to get it.

And in some ways, we did. We heard more about her relationship with her father and her faith, which definitely helps put a few things in perspective! I appreciate that!

But in other ways, we didn't. Not once did they actually have Bo-Katan or anyone else actually acknowledge the truly horrific things she's done or how she was the one who helped bring down Mandalore. Since the memory of her taking the Creed sort-of makes it near impossible for her to have joined up with Death Watch as a teenager and far more reasonable for her to have done it in her late 20s if not early 30s, she was fully aware of what she was doing when she made that choice. And she's refusing to take responsibility for that.

We're also not truly acknowledging all of Bo-Katan's FAILED attempts at leadership, from the way she had to rely on the clones and Ahsoka and the Republic to clean up her own mess with Maul, to being handed the Darksaber by Sabine only to lose it like a year later, and then to trying to find the Darksaber again afterwards only for all of her followers to completely abandon her the moment Din won the Darksaber instead. She's never been able to save Mandalore on her own, she's never been able to lead Mandalore into success or peace, and despite not really seeing any sudden growth or development in that area, I'm supposed to believe she's the Chosen One who will unite all of Mandalore now because she saw a rare creature in the water.

We see Bo-Katan lead a war party twice, sure, but she's ALWAYS been good at violence and war, so that's not exactly evidence of actual good leadership because she had that before and still failed over and over again.

What I want is to see Bo-Katan actually acknowledge the mistakes she made and recognize that the reason she failed was due to arrogance and a desire to live up to her father's high standards and expectations of her. What I want is for Bo-Katan to recognize why Satine was opting for pacifism and non-violence and try to find a middle ground between her respect for Mandalorian warrior traditions and Satine's attempts to stop the violence that was destroying them. I wanted to see more build-up to the whole "walks in both worlds" comment. I know we're 5 episodes in already, so things have to get moving, but I feel like we skipped steps and rushed this conclusion to her arc.

They don't have time to truly let her develop and grow because we're wasting time on this Imperial/New Republic bullshit that doesn't have any impact on the Mandalorians and shouldn't be here. We lost an entire episode to that storyline that could've been spent elsewhere. We should've had at LEAST one more episode with Bo-Katan bonding with the covert before getting to this point, let Bo-Katan acknowledge her mistakes more so that when she agrees to take up an attempt at leadership for a FOURTH time, I believe that this is something new rather than the same thing she's done the entire time.

I don't think Bo-Katan can move forward without acknowledging her history, who she's been, and what she's done. Pretending as though she's done nothing is an insult to the complexity her character could have if the writers were brave enough to allow it. Maybe they'll still have it happen in the upcoming three episodes, but at this point I'm a little skeptical.

[sophieakatz]

Thursday Thoughts: Israel Story

“I honestly think that it’s adorable that you actually believe these children’s stories. But there is nothing magic about the waters.”

“Without the Creed, what are we? What do we stand for? Our people are scattered like stars in the galaxy. The Creed is how we survived.”

-Bo-Katan Kryze and Din Djarin, The Mandalorian Chapter 18: The Mines of Mandalore

When I was thirteen, my grandparents took the family on a big anniversary trip to Israel.

As a Jewish American kid in the early 2000s, growing up where there weren’t a lot of other Jews and spending my summers at Reform Jewish summer camp, I was told a lot of things about Israel. The big thing was always that Israel was important – that it was our home. That I should go there, and that when I went there, I would have an amazing feeling of connection, and I would know that it was my home.

So, as a recent bat mitzvah, I was excited about this trip. I was ready to go to Israel and have my big moment of feeling connected with the world.

I remember standing in the airport in Tel Aviv, minutes after stepping off the plane, and asking my dad, “When does it start to feel like Israel?”

Because it didn’t feel like Israel. It felt like an airport.

And then we stepped out into Tel Aviv, and rode around on a bus, and it felt like a city. I’d been to cities before. It was cool to see the street signs and graffiti were in Hebrew and Arabic just as much as they were in English, but it was a city.

Over the course of our trip, we went everywhere we could possibly go. We floated in the Dead Sea. We climbed Mount Masada. We saw the archaeological sites at Megiddo. We went to Caesarea, and Ein Gedi, and Yad Vashem, and Tzfat. We rode camels, we ate falafel, we learned just how unbreakable Druze glass is.

And, again, it was cool. I enjoyed the trip. It was beautiful everywhere we went, and we were surrounded by history everywhere we went. I remember thinking that the dust of history was gathering in my boots, because this is a place where people have lived for as long as there have been people.

But I kept waiting for it to feel like Israel – to have that big magical moment of connection that everyone said I would have – and it just wasn’t happening.

Then, we went to Jerusalem. And I thought, “Okay, here it is. This is where I’m going to have my big moment.” We went to the Western Wall, the last remaining piece of the platform that surrounded the ancient temple, the holiest place any Jew could visit in the world. I saw people there, pressed against the wall, eyes shut, in fervent prayer, clearly feeling something amazing. I walked up through the crowd in the small women’s section of the wall. I found enough space to reach forward, and I put my hand on the wall.

It felt like rock.

I remember thinking, “What is wrong with me, that all I feel is rock? Where is the connection I’m supposed to feel?”

And then, on our last day of the trip, we went to the Diaspora Museum (Beit Hatfutsot, now called the Museum of the Jewish People). It’s all about the Jewish people – our exile from that part of the world, and all our journeys since then. I’d never seen such a comprehensive look at the diversity and history of Judaism before. I’d certainly never been to a museum before that provided such an honest critique of the United States – it’s where I first learned about the SS St. Louis.

There was one room in the museum that caught my attention. I don’t know if it was a permanent installment or a temporary exhibit; I haven’t been back there since. In the room, there was a screen on the wall, rotating through pictures in a slideshow. Some of them were drawings, while others were photographs. All of the pictures were of the insides of people’s houses – their kitchens and dining rooms. Each picture was labeled with a place and a time. This was Poland, this was Spain. This was the fifteenth, eighteenth, twentieth century.

These pictures were from all across the world and all across history. And, in every picture, three items were circled in red: the challah loaf, the kiddush cup, and the Shabbat candlesticks.

As I stood there, watching these pictures, it hit me – slowly, and then all at once – that I had those things in my house. I was connected to every single place, and every single time, all across the world, all across history.

That was it. That was my moment, the completely mind-blowing and earth-shattering realization. That connection through tradition – that’s what it meant to be a Jew. I felt then a supreme sense of belonging, of being grounded, of being a part of something so much bigger than myself – something that mattered, something that was made of love, something that could never die. That realization has stuck with me ever since.

I told this story on TikTok on Tuesday. On Wednesday, Chapter 18 of The Mandalorian aired, and I marveled at the serendipity. I’ve talked here before about the connections I’ve noticed between the Mandalorians as depicted in this series and Judaism. We too were scattered. Our holy sites were destroyed. We are diverse, and disparate, and faced with the question of what to do now, in a world that hates us, hurts us, and demands that we too become hateful and hurtful. And we are united – we are grounded – we are able to survive because of the stories, the traditions, the rituals at the heart of our people.

[wanderingjedi77]

The Armorer x Fem!Reader x Bo Katan (Always)

Summary: Things on Mandalore are changing, but your happy to be by their side. Sequel to House of Three.

You sigh into the arms of Bo as she sits on her throne, tilting your head back as she holds you close. You hadn't had much time for this, you realise. Cuddling with your now Mand'alor. Ever since Mandalore had been taken both, both her and the Armorer had been busy.

Bo with ruling and The Armorer with fixing the great forge with care.

That wasn't to say that you weren't busy keeping track of the foundlings and trying to establish a school. You had picked the perfect spot for it, too. Overlooking the water on what you hoped would soon be a grassy hill.

And, you thought blissfully. You were married.

It had been a small ceremony, with Din and Paz residing. Grogu and Ragnar. It was nice, simple. You felt more complete than you had in ages as you recited the vows. You felt like your heart couldn't get any fuller.

"What are you thinking about?" Bo mummers from behind you. For now, it was just the two of you in her throne room.

"Us. The future that we are building." You reply softly. You turn to kiss her arms tighten around your waist as the doors open and then shut gently. The heavy footsteps tell you it's the Armorer, and your thoughts are confirmed when you hear her helmet come off and her hands settle on your shoulders, kneading the stress away.

"Hello cyar'ika." The Armorer greets softly. "Have you both started without me? That's rather rude, you know."

You break away from Bo to give her an annoyed look, though your not really mad. "And you like to tell me what to do."

"Don't act like you don't enjoy it." The Armorer replies lowly. You sighed and tilted your head against her armored chest, and the Armorer laughed. "Good girl."

Bo watched, leaning back on her throne. "You know, sometimes I think you two do this on purpose."

"Never my Mand'alor." The Armorer replies and leans over you to give Bo a quick kiss. They smile at each other when they pull away, and you relax.

"I was wondering something?" You pipe up. They both look at you, the Armorer dropping her hands from your shoulders as she moves to sit on the arm of Bo's throne.

"Yes?" Bo replies, reaching out to hold your hand.

"How do you feel about kids? Because there's this orphaned foundling..." You trail off, embarrassed. Was it too soon? You had only taken back Mandalore recently, you thought. What if they didn't want children?

"I've thought about it." The Armorer admitted, "Bo?"

"So have I. I need an heir." Bo smirks at you and puts a hand on your stomach. Thinking about what you would look like with a child in your belly. "There are a few ways we can have a child, I'm sure. Adopting a foundling is a good step." She agrees. "But if it's agreeable? Would you be willing to carry a baby?"

Your mouth goes dry. "I... maybe?" You squeek. You bite your lip and look at both of them. "But I just wanted to know if you would want children. We never discussed it before."

"No. But we have a lot of clan building to do." Bo teases. "I'm fine with little ones running around."

"As am I." The Armorer leans down to kiss you, and you feel Bo put her hands around you, keeping you in place.

"Glad we've got that figured out." You pull away, breathless. "Thank you. It means a lot." You tell them, happy.

"Anything for you, sweet girl." Bo replies softly. "But there are a few other things we should taken care of?" Bo suggests and you glance at the Armorer.

"Like what?" You ask softly. You had built a home and were now planning a family. What else was there to complete?

"Why don't you let us show you." The Armorer smirks at you. "Can you be patient for just one moment?" She slips off the throne and walks toward the doors, slipping on her helmet. "Make sure she listens Bo."

You look at Bo, and she grins.

"What?" You ask. "Is going on?"

"Patience." Bo replies.

"But-"

Bo frowns. "Don't disobey an order, sweet girl." You sigh in response, and wait.

Patience is a virtue, after all. And whatever they have planned next will surely be worth it.

[ziplockbag]

watched the new episode of the Mandalorian the day it came out and something about the whole structure of that show truly bothered me, and it’s all to do with the way they handled baby yoda and mando in the book of boba fett. it still baffles me that they reunited those two in that show as opposed to waiting it out.

*imagine* if they waited. mando having to deal with the rejection from that group of mandalorians and having given away grogu to luke, grogu at the jedi temple. putting more weight on their time apart would make something like a mid-season or season finale reunion so much more powerful than what they ended up doing.

mando’s quest for redemption that he seems to be on now (with the waters below the mines of mandalore or whatever) would make way more sense as a motivation if he didn’t have grogu with him. 

that little green ray of sunshine also didn’t serve an ounce of narrative purpose in the first episode, so at the moment, it wouldn’t have mattered to the plot if he’d been there or not.

idk, a lot more falls into place once you put the setup from book of boba fett into the structure of the entire season of the mandalorian.

we’ll see where the season ends up going, but for now it seems like a huge loss of potential to me

[lesbii-enne]

Di’kut

(Part two)

My favorite Big blue man. I’m using a first person point of view now second person killed me :) enjoy

Part one: part three:

Translations below

The man spoke

“Who is this man Din Djarin? Another apostate?”

“This man is the last of Clan Verde.”

Din announced

The man known as ‘Vizsla’ told alor Din that he instead would bring me to the Armorer, pulling me by the arm through the crowds and into the caverns. He led me to a great forge, there was a woman smelting what looked like beskar into a signet. Vizsla announced

“This is the last son of Clan Verde.”

She turned to me eying me with curiosity as alor Vizsla made his exit.

“I figured I would see you once again Lita Verde.”

I looked at her confused

“That was my mother’s name, it is an honor to meet someone who knew my mother.”

The armorer tilted her helmet almost sorrowfully.

“I apologize for mistaking you.”

She began again

“Paz Vizsla said you were the ‘last son’ of Clan Verde, but you are no son.”

“You are correct, I am no son, I am the eldest daughter of Leio and Lita Verde. I can understand why alor Vizsla assumed me to be a son, I do not carry myself as a daughter.”

The armorer nodded in thought.

She turned back to the signet she was crafting saying nothing further on the matter. Pulling the signet from the mold she made her way towards me.

“This was your mother’s signet, a Varactyl it was very dear to her, I crafted it for her believing she had come back; now I offer it to you.”

I nodded at her and she began to solder the signet onto my pauldron. Once she finished she motioned for me to follow her we walked through the cavern she spoke up once again.

“A foundling is to take the creed and be sworn in today will you go?”

“I would be honored to see a foundling take the creed and become a child of the watch.”

The armorer turned to me and nodded

“This is the way.”

I repeated

“This is the way.”

I departed from the armorer and followed wherever my feet led me. Ending up by the massive lake, I crouched down and looked into the clear water I saw my reflection.

A dented dingy helmet with most of the original paint job scratched off. I can surely see why both alor Din and alor Vizsla believed me to be a man. Geez I really haven’t had time to take care of my armor for the last few cycles. I saw the blue beskar clad man approach me in the reflection. I then stood and turned to him.

“You are no mandalorian.”

He spat out.

I ignored the man and turned back around, crouching down to the water again. Reaching out I managed to catch a fish. Holding it up I used my flamethrower not for an intended use, but to cook the fish. Then, I got up and went to find somewhere secluded to eat, but alor Vizsla was still standing there, my shoulder brushed his as I walked away.

Finally finding a spot to eat, I took my helmet off and rather quickly stuffing my face with the fish. I put my helmet back on I trudged back to the encampment. Thankfully I was just in time for the ceremony. I saw mandalorians lining up in rows by the water I joined them and began to pound on my cuirass as they did. Seeing the armorer step out of the caverns with a blue beskar helmet resembling that of alor Vizsla’s. She held the helmet up and we went silent.

“I swear on my name and the name’s of the ancestors.”

She said

“I swear on my name and the name’s of the ancestors.”

He repeated

“That I shall walk the way of the Mandalore.”

He repeated her words once again

“That I shall walk the way of the Mandalore.”

“And the words of the creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”

“And the words of the creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”

The Armorer then placed the helmet on the boy and said

“This is the way.”

“This is the way.”

He repeated

The entire covert repeated, I joined in

“This is the way.”

The armorer then grabbed a small bowl, scooping some of the water of the lake in it and held it out saying

“From this moment on, I shall never remove my helmet.”

The boy began to repeat her words

“From this moment on I shall never..”

The Armorer stopped him, I heard a strange noise. The Armorer suddenly grabbed the boy and turned to run as a large aquatic creature lunged out of the water towards the two.

In a split second I drew my blaster and began to fire at the creature. The blaster had no effect on the massive reptile, if anything it angered the beast. Mandalorians scrambled to fire on the beast, I used my grappling line to grab ahold of the snout of the beast climbing the line I nearly pulled myself on top of the reptile’s snout before it thrashed its head.

Grabbing a hold of my left arm as I fell, it twisted its head. My arm bent in an ugly angle. I grit my teeth and soon a loud ‘snap’ resonated through the air. I screamed out in pain as I dangled from the beast’s mouth. I turned and swung my vibroblade at the reptile stabbing it in the eye with my free hand, it let out a screech as it dropped me.

Falling down I went hurtling into the water with a large splash. My back slammed into the lake bed pain, shot through my body as I tried to yell out only bubbles rose from my throat. Everything hurt I couldn’t move. I felt myself beginning to go limp, then I felt a crash in the water and soon after a hand grabbing onto the back of my cuirass and dragging me.

Soon we came to the surface water came rushing out of my helmet. The seal must have been damaged. I began to cough oxygen reaching my lungs once again as my vision returned as well, a blue blurry figure dragged my up to the shore. I tried getting up but a new surge of pain erupted all over and I fell back down. The reptile was still fighting. I couldn’t move my left arm, it was twisted and uglily dangling. The creature began making its way to the foundling, my legs moved faster than the pain could work its way to my brain. I pushed him behind me as I drew my blaster and fired upon the beast once again.

Suddenly I heard star ship fire, then the reptile fell over dead. The ship landed and alor Din poked his head out, I began to stagger towards him.

“Alor Din, you’re back, I wasn’t aware you had left.”

My attention was drawn to the little green creature in the cockpit of his vessel.

“That is a funny looking creature alor Din.”

He took a look at me and my arm quickly saying

“I think you need medical assistance.”

“I’ll be fine, the adrenaline seems to be wearing off.”

“You need to put that back in place.”

alor Vizsla voiced behind me I turned to him

“I’ll be fine alor”

Some dealt with the remains of the large beast as I limped into the caverns trying not to cry out too loudly. All I needed to do was put my shoulder back in place, easier said than done. I tried to put the bone back into place nearly shouting out at the pain. After too many tries to remember I slumped down the wall of the caverns and groaning.

I soon heard footsteps as I scrambled to get up, I couldn’t seem weak. Then I saw his blue beskar, I almost asked for his help but I knew that I couldn’t, he despised me and I knew he wouldn’t give a second glance to me. I was all the more surprised when he spoke up

“Do you need help with that?”

He gestured to my still very limp arm dangling by my side.

I soon spoke

“I would appreciate that very much.”

He gestured me to sit down I obliged as he ,not as gently as I would have hoped, took hold of my arm. He moved it around a little bit as I grit my teeth and shut my eyes tight. Quickly enough he was able to push my arm back into place with a rather loud ‘pop’. He then motioned for me to move my arm. I began to rotate my arm, pausing for a second I asked

“Why are you helping me all of a sudden alor?”

He tilted his helmet

“You saved my son.”

My eyes widened at his statement, he had a son?

“I did?”

He nodded

“He was the foundling who took the creed.”

I quickly nodded, standing up I thanked him and exited.

‘This is going to hurt like Mustafar.’

I thought to myself.

Oh look I’m done! Fun obviously there should be a part three in the future.

Translations:

alor: leader, boss, basically anyone higher ‘rank’ than oneself

[better-call-mau1]

sooo i'm curious about Nephews (And Nieces) Of Inexplicable Origin.... (Is it possibly what I think it is?? 😆)

Thanks for the ask! It most certainly is!!! 🤪😁 I had to go back and find our reblog chain with @that-one-loth-cat which started with your “Bo-Katan’s Obitine Flashbacks” (and this Satine & Sabine incorrect quote)…but yeah, the ‘nephew’ in question is Korkie, and the ‘niece’ is a Sabezra kiddo. 😉 The fic chronicles Bo’s saltiness over Satine passing off Korkie as her nephew, and she eventually gets to hit Ursa with an I told you so! that’s about 20-25 years in the making.

I didn’t have too much of this written when you sent the ask a few days ago, but I couldn’t help myself, so I finished the whole first scene. 😅

And fair warning, this snippet is from the POV of young Death Watch Bo-Katan, so there’s a fair amount of Star Wars cursing, i.e. variations of ‘kark’ and ‘kriff’. (Also, I gave Korkie a real name since ‘Korkie’ feels like a nickname. I’m not sold on it, though…might post a poll with a bunch of different candidates for what ‘Korkie’ could be short for.)

(Link to the WIP list for the ask game.)

“And then she had the audacity to call him her nephew! Her nephew! That’s how she decided to explain the baby she brought back with her! It doesn’t make any kriffing sense. I’m her only sister — her only sibling — so how do you think that made me look?”

Bo growled into her cup of tihaar and, rather brashly, swallowed down the rest in three fierce gulps. Her throat ached and eyes threatened to water, but not so badly that it blunted her ire over the red-haired little karker Satine introduced to her years ago.

Not that he was such a little karker anymore — Korkelan would be twelve now, and Bo wondered if he’d managed to connect the dots (of which there were only two, his ‘aunt’ and her Jedi protector), that had taken her all of five seconds to connect herself. The whole affair was more suspicious than a Jawa in a droid bar, and she had no doubt that it would explode in Clan Kryze’s face someday.

Glancing up, Bo found that her friend didn’t seem to be all that concerned with the not-so-inexplicable origins of her nephew.

Handle pinched between forefinger and thumb, Ursa bent her spoon back, preparing to catapult a red lentil across the banquet table. “One moment,” she murmured, squinting in the dim lighting of the tent. Slumped low in her chair to remain inconspicuous, she waited for the Saxon brothers to take their seats at the other end, each with a fresh cup of tihaar — one of the few tastes of Mandalore they still enjoyed on Carlac.

The head of the spoon sprang from her fingers, sending the lentil hurling across the table, soaring over Pre Vizsla’s bald head, and plunging right into Gar Saxon’s drink with a PLOP!

For a few long seconds, he stared down at the floaty in his cup. Stunned confusion morphed into disgust (as if a mynok had flown into the tent and taken a kriff on his plate), which simmered into a blind rage directed at the most likely culprit:

Skinny, slimy, pretentious Tiber.

“Aruetyc upstart,” Gar growled — and before the younger Saxon could utter a word of self-defense, his arm shot across the table and grabbed him by the collar of his bodyglove, lifting him off his feet and heaving him to the other side of the tent like a sack of joguns.

Ursa snickered in delight, sinking back and crossing her arms while watching the Brawn of Clan Saxon march over to the Brains and clobber him like a rabid rancor.

“I’m sure Count Saxon sleeps well at night knowing his clan’s future is in the hands of those two kriffhead di’kuts.”

Twirling her dinner knife, Bo leaned forward, planting her elbows on the table.

“Well, if you don’t want the future of Clan Wren to be in even worse shape, you should take my story as a warning. Anywhere you go in the galaxy these days, there are philanderering Jedi Knights preying on honest, Forge-going Mando girls. They whip out their lightsabers and put on a show with their perverse telekinetic shenanigans, and next thing you know, your sister is carrying around a ‘nephew.’ All it takes is one romantic jetpack ride. Mark my words.”

Ursa pried her attention away from the one-sided brawl to give Bo a flat, unconvinced look.

“Right. I’ll start worrying about Sab’ika going on romantic jetpack rides with unscrupulous Jedi boys when she can chew solid food.”