#mudhorn egg

[betbiem]

I'm re-watching mandalorian and it has all these great action scenes, and set pieces, and characters, and drama...but I still think my favourite bit is THE EGG

#mandalorian #the mandalorian #jawas #the egg #star wars #sw fanart #funny #sticker design #mudhorn #mudhorn egg #bitches love eggs

[hsuits]

The Jawas refurbished their sand crawler and went into the hotel business. They even listed it on Expedia

#star wars #jawas #jawa #sand crawler #they just took a sand blaster to it so they could charge 500 a night and the inside is still filled with junk #the customer service has to be terrible unless you pay in mudhorn eggs #din djarin gets the “presidential suite”

[grogusmum]

MARCH: In Which, Beans Are Not Beans, Eggs Are Everyplace and I Have To Eat Them (this is doing my part, people!) An Eostre Story as told by Grogu Djarin

WORD COUNT: 1000ish

RATED: G

WARNINGS: excessive fluff and sassafras, oh and food. Lots of food.

A/N: Here is the March installment of The Wheel of the Year, my theme for @yearofcreation2023. Organized by the effervescent @oonajaeadira and @writeforfandoms Ostara or Eostre marks the vernal equinox, the first day of spring in the Northern Hemisphere and one of the two days when the amount of daylight and darkness is equal- and from here on in the days get longer. Ever wonder where all the bunnies and eggs in the Easter celebration come from? It comes from this holiday right here. 

During a milestone celebration, I did a Grogu Character Takeover and got this ask-

Have you ever seen rabbits on the farm or is big ears the only rabbit you’ve met? That reminds me, since you like eggs so much have you heard about Easter which is all about hunting for eggs. I think you’d be amazing at it. Did you know bunnies can be made out of chocolate?

I thought it might be fun to expand on Grogu’s answer for this month's year of creation fic.  This is set in A Galaxy Far Far Away AU. Here is a link to that series (though you don't really have to read it to get what's going on here except that Din and Grogu are on Earth with a pagan f!reader who lives in a house called Juniper Cottage.) This is not a “witchy” one, but I hope you enjoy!

At Jupiter Cottage, Easter is called Éostre, but I was told when it comes to eggs and bunnies they are very the same! This is one of those Special Days on the calendar on the wall. And that means fun and food!

First is The Preparation. 

When I waked up one day the Jupiter Cottage had bunnies everywhere. Wooden ones, and softy ones, plus also ones that might break so please do not force lift them, thank you very much. AAAALLLLL the winter decorations were gone and the little seeds we planted on the windowsill a few weeks ago on that day about guessing when spring comes were peeking out of the dirt! 

But the most important thing is collecting eggs. This is a thing I am very good at. And the hens do not mind one bit!! We have “an Agreement”. That is permission to eat their eggs. I was very shocked by this news cuz my past experience with eating eggs was… well, let’s just say- Not. Great.  ANYWAYS, all the hens love me very a lot and we are best friends. Eva is the only hen in the hen home that gives us white eggs, so we had been saving up her eggs for a little while so we would have plenty of white eggs “for coloring”.

This is what you do: the eggs get boiled up first. This can be a frustrating process. Cuz if they crack, you can not color them. But I do not mind it, cuz I get to eat The Mistakes! Then they go in little cups. The cups all have their own colors- there is blue water, and red water, plus also yellow water, and all the waters smell weird. I am NOT allowed to drink ANY of them! 

I had trouble remembering this rule. 

We dipped the eggs in, and when they came out! They were all the colors of red and purple, yellow and blue, and green (my favorite)! This is cuz of mixing colors together and making other colors! WHAT?! Dad and Me were taught to draw pictures on the eggs before putting them in the color water with this little magic crayon! It was a very big surprise I tell you, cuz you couldn’t see what you drawed at all! Then, after putting them into the waters, WOW, the drawings is RIGHT THERE! We drawed rabbits and suns, plus also mudhorns…. and frogs a-course.

I was so excited at bedtime the night before Éostre! I was thinking about that bunny visiting us and giving me chocolate and things. I got wiggley, plus also very giggling, and stopping wiggling and giggling is hard, I tell you!

Dad sighed his sigh of you are my dear child, who never does anything wrong ever, but I am just a tired father many times.

The sun waked up and waked me up, so it was not my fault at all! So I waked Dad and he said, all super sleepy and gravel, I’m sleeping, lil womp rat.

So I just went out to peek out the door for the surprises the Éostre Bunny left for me. I brought Long Ears with me. (You know who Long Ears is, right? Yeah, we’ve discussed that guy) Cuz she is an expert being a bunny and all. I found a trail of the tiniest color eggs I have ever seen in my entire life. First, I sniffed it, and then I tasted one, cuz that is what I do! And they were so yummy! They did not taste like ANY egg I have EVER had, and I have had many eggs, even some we do not talk about!

(Frogs are friends, not food!)

ANYWAYS I was informed later that they are called “jelly beans”. But they are not beans at all, they are candy, so a Special Treat! Which is code for I can not have them all the time, which is not what I want to hear, Father!

How can they not be beans, it says bean in its very own name!? Like Candy Corns, did you know they are not corns at all? I was shocked by that news. But I do not care so much cuz candy corn is not so much… good. It is sweet. But… blah, crayony. How I know what crayons taste like is another story, that I am not telling at this time.

The jelly not-beans leaded to a basket, oh boy! It had so many good, good things! Chocolate rabbits! Well, rabbit SHAPED chocolate. I got a little concerned. And so did Long Ears! And these guys called Peepses! Have you had them?! Like baby chicks BUT NOT! These peepses are yellow with white fluffy fluff inside and chocolate on their bottoms. Plus also a wooden duck guy that you pull with a string and his big orange feet go whap whap whap on the floor and his bill goes quack quack quack and I walked him around and around! Oh and a little wooden cup on a stick, plus also an egg on a string… it is a game of trying to swing the egg into the cup. This is hard. And the egg is hard. And bonky when it hits you in the face.

Dad likes it and is good at it. He says I will get better, I just need to practice. I just walked that Duck guy around some more.

In New Hampster it is still cold outside even when it is Spring. Sometimes it snows. But not this time… So when it was not “the crack of dawn, for kriff sake” we went outside to do The Egg Hunt. It is a good thing I am a good egg finder! Cuz eggs was every place- under blueberry bushes and the jupiter bushes a-course, and in the garden shed and under Clara, which was funny. She said, Grogu did I lay a purple egg!? And I said, no silly chicken!

Pfft, I love her, but that guy. We also went for a walk in the woods to look for green and had a feast! 

Then a special moment happened! That was the Moment of the Equimox! This is when the sun moves across a line on Earth. And you get to do an eggsparmint. That is standing an egg up on one end, and it will stay! Or so they say, cuz we tried and tried… Dad and me were skepical.

And that is the special day of Eostre at Jupiter Cottage. And it was a good thing I like eggs so much, cuz we had to eat them for DAYS! We ate them hard boil, and devils, plus also salad samich.

this is Long Ears.

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚

You can find more of my writing here, and if you are interested in being tagged for this or any of my other works, here is my taglist form.

And if you want to ask Grogu a question, you can find him @grogu-explains-it-all

#as told by grogu #grogu #grogu djarin #wheel of the year series #year of themed creation #eostre #easter #ostara

[wannab-urs]

Din/Ezra season 1 rewrite 👀👀

YEAHHHHHHH

Here's another little snip from my planning -- still no actual writing haha (I'm not ready yet!)

They ride the crawling fortress to the mudhorn lair.

Ez stumbles along with him down to the cave, making remarks the whole time about how this will not go well.

Stays back while Din goes into the cave bc he’s not dumb. 

Mando fights the mudhorn and is clearly losing

Ezra levitates it and then slams it into the ground, knocking it out.

Din stabs it with his vibroblade

“You could have done that the whole time?”

“I had to exact some form of revenge for capturing me, but I do not wish to see you dead.”

“Why not?”

“You dispossessed me of my protectors. I am alone on this planet and you’re my only way off it.” Ez sounds very weak while speaking and passes out soon after.

Din curses and retrieves the egg, before dragging Ezra back with him who is barely coherent. (He's not normally so weak, but the loss of his arm + the fever are getting to him)

I'm having a lot of fun figuring out how to weave Ezra into this story. The main challenge I'm kind of worried for is not making it so much the same as the show that it's boring to read. I think the added scenes from Ezra's perspective and the smut will help though lmao.

Some other notes -> Ezra is 40, he lost his arm shortly before meeting Din, he was only trained as a Jedi until he was 12, and he used to be a pretty good pilot (hasn't tried since losing his arm).

Help Me Finish a Fic

#finish your fics #tag games #ask games #catchallfangirl #em #asks #din/ez season 1 rewrite

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

Another one of my favourite headcanons (again. thanks to the late night chats with my sister) is Din and the way he tells the mudhorn story.

Because he’s got such a cool signet and of course someone somewhere is gonna ask about it. I’m imagining he tells different versions—usually, you’ll get a clipped account; if he feels at his leisure, he’ll expand the tale and I like the idea that he’s actually quite the storyteller when the fancy takes him.

(He always mentions Grogu’s contribution to the victory, of course)

But he tends to omit the reason he fought the mudhorn (because just thinking about getting hired as a glorified Uber delivery for a bunch of car thieves makes him mad and it’s just… it takes away some of the charm of the tale to admit the only reason he went in the cave in the first place was to snatch a hairy egg covered in mud and muck, and he has a reputation to uphold here)

Grogu, however, makes a point of adding in the egg part of the story. He finds it hilarious and crucial to the entire tale. So he always, always mentions the Jawas and the egg when he tells the story behind his mudhorn signet.

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #din djarin #grogu djarin #din & grogu #the mandalorian #headcanon #headcanons #mandalorian headcanon #clan of two #lift a sail

[burnwater13]

Grogu was feeling much better. His dad had remembered something Ahsoka Tano had told him and whatever it was, Grogu was feeling 100% not Sithy. His eyes weren’t red. He wasn’t cackling. He didn’t even have an urge to create a hot foot for his dad when he suggested that Grogu help with the daily chores!

R5 had managed to get him everything on his list for the big, ‘It’s a dark and stormy night of scary stories that didn’t really happen Clan Mudhorn’ festivities. His dad had been surprised at how long that list of stuff had been, but then he was the one who suggested that they come up with a family celebration of some sort, right? Right.

Now Grogu was going to start making the decorations, set pieces, and stuff like that, while his dad built the storage shed it all needed to go in until the big night. Grogu realized that his dad must have felt really sorry for him getting so sick from visiting the old Imp base that the Mandalorian even let R5 help Grogu with his tasks while he built the shed on his own. 

It was a perfect day out too. Not too hot, not too windy, not too much sulfur in the air. The sulfur thing was something they were both still getting used to as they lived on Nevarro. Every once in a while a volcano was erupt or even just ‘burp’ and that would spew hot ash and all sorts of volcanic gases into the air. If the wind direction was just right, you could smell rotten eggs for klicks. 

As they both worked on what his dad was calling the ‘Clan Mudhorn Project’, Grogu hummed to himself and was happy to hear his dad singing in a soft voice. Who knew that a Mandalorian Bounty Hunter could have such a nice voice for singing songs like ‘Dads are Great’ and Grogu’s favorite song by Crushing Imps, ‘Never Really Gone’. 

When they stopped for lunch they had both made a lot of progress. Grogu and R5 had produced a number of ‘flats’ that  could be positioned in any room and even outside to give the impression that you were in the Imperial Laboratory and looking at various stages of the cloning process. During the day they just looked flat, but in limited lighting, well, they would glow from the luminescent paint R5 had brought back from his shopping excursion. That would give them an appropriate level of creepiness without being down right frightening. It was all about balance. 

Which reminded Grogu of Ahsoka Tano and how she knew that she wasn’t really the right mentor for him. He knew his dad had been conflicted about that. He’d really wanted to fulfill his mission parameters, but he didn’t actually want Grogu to leave him. For his own part, Grogu hadn’t wanted to leave the Mandalorian either. 

They were a great team and had accomplished a lot together and that sort of thing didn’t just happen by mistake. Nope. Master Yoda used to say, ‘The Force knows where you should be. Be where the Force calls you.’ Or words to that effect. Basically it meant trust yourself to know where you belonged. Grogu knew he belonged with his dad. He was glad that Ahsoka Tano had understood that as well. 

That’s when it occurred to Grogu to ask the Mandalorian if he knew where the Jedi was. 

“Sorry buddy. I think we’d have to reach out to Luke and ask him. I’m not even sure where he is right now. I don’t think we have time to go to Ossus or Tython if you still want to have the festival on the day we selected.”

Dank Farrik! That stunk. And not just of sulfur. Grogu was certain that Ahsoka Tano would want to sit with them and tell scary stories about things that had never happened. Based on what he remembered about her time at the Jedi Temple, the only problem would be her not accidentally telling a story about something that had happened. 

Grogu then asked his dad who he’d like to have join in the Clan Mudhorn fun, if he could have anyone in the whole galaxy be there. His dad was quiet for a while and Grogu wondered if his simple question had made the Mandalorian sad some how. He hadn’t meant to do that. 

“I think this is something I would like my Mandalorian family to participate in. Not just the members of the Tribe, but my mentor and his family. He was a great story teller and that’s how I learned what a bounty hunter does.” 

Well, well, well. Grogu had always assumed that his dad had taken classes and seminars to build up his knowledge and skills. Bounty Hunting 101, How to Get Paid in the Currency You Prefer, Tracking, Trapping, and Freezing - A Bounty Hunter’s Guide to Bringing Them in Cold, and Applied Techniques for When You Have to Bring Them in Warm. 

Who knew that he also had a mentor? Well, Grogu would add that to his list of things to do and hope it was something that could be accomplished one way or the other. No. He wasn’t going to try to make a clone of his dad’s old mentor, although that thought had merit. Maybe he could just find someone who could cosplay that role. How hard could that be? He just needed a talented actor, some old Mandalorian armor, a person who knew the Mandalorian way back then and his mentor. Easy, peasy, right? He could do this, right?

“Do it!” A wheezing, raspy voice gasped. 

Grogu looked around but didn’t see anyone or anything, other than his dad, who clearly hadn’t heard anything other than the song he was humming by Crushing Imps. Maybe Grogu wasn’t completely over his Sith Flu after all…

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu

[mandadlorianstuff]

Din Djarin search history be like

Green creature

Green alien baby 50 years old

Are all droids bad

How many eggs does a mudhorn have

Green alien baby magic hand thing

Fix armor fast

How many eggs can a baby eat

How many frog eggs can a baby eat before it's considered genocide

How to tell someone that your baby ate her eggs

Razor crest for sale

How to tell if something is jedi

How not to cry in front of others

What happens if you take your helmet off

Armorer real name

Living Waters mapquest

Pog soup calories

Why called mythosaur if not myth

Mythosaur still alive video proof

What is an HOA

Nevarro HOA

Do I need to mow my lawn if I live in the desert

Can I park my ship in my front yard

Why are HOAs so dumb

#please my humor is so broken #din djarin #the mandalorian #din grogu #grogu

[babygirlrex0504]

The Bounty Pt 3

You and Mando now have the bounty! Trying to ignore the fact that he is a child of the force, you struggle on bringing the child back to the client and facing Mando to tell him. After having help with Kuiil getting back the Razor Crest pieces, Mando and you take the child back to the client. Mando now knows the child has “powers” he still doesn’t know you do as of yet. Will you show him soon?

A/N: Guys these parts have turn into a series, I didn’t realize how many people actually enjoyed it. So for right now, I am gonna be focusing on the two series that I have. Eventually I will get to the other stories I have planned in the Masterlist but for right now these two are my main focus! Also if you want to be added to the tag list more then welcome to comment!

Masterlist

Tag List: @pascalshimbo @flowersgirl02 @yourunstablegf

Previous Next

Masterlist

Clan of Three

Bounty Mini Series

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mando was quiet, he usually is quiet but ever since the Child saved him from the Mudhorn, he has been eerie quiet. You didn’t want to bug him since it is something you have to process. As he did so you watched the child like a hawk, he would get into one of the pieces on the ship’s dashboard, that was shaped as a ball. He loved it.

You held him and brought him down from the cockpit after Mando said that they will be landing soon. You had to put him back in his egg. You felt your stomach drop. This is wrong. You can’t just give a child with the force to the Empire. When you sent him down he gave you a toothy grin.

“Remember my young padawan learner,” The voice of your teacher rang through your mind. “Jedi must protect each other, we are all one with the force. We are all brothers and sisters.”

You pet one of its ears and frowned. “I’m sorry little one.” You whispered. You heard the rumble of the ship hit the atmosphere. You sighed and put your hood up.

Mando came down the ladder and looked down at the kid then up at you. You stared into his visor and looked away opening the ramp. As you walked through the village people would stare as you both walked past. When you got to the door, you felt sick and wrong. “I am going to stay out here,” You said looking down at the kid. Mando looked at you about to say something. “No I can’t…I can’t. Meet you in the cantina.”

As you walked away you heard the coos from the child. Your heart sinking more. “Remember my young padawan learner. Jedi must protect each other, we are all one with the force. We are all brothers and sisters.”

Her voice rang over and over again, repeating it like a broken record. You remembered as that young with your doe eyes making that promise. The promise to never leave someone behind, never. Now now you are, breaking that promise. You stopped mid track as you looked back for a moment then waiting outside of the cantina for Mando.

“What if there are too many roadblocks master?” You asked as she knelt down to have you eye leveled with you.

She smiled at you, the kind of smile that a mother would give their child. The smile that made you feel at home. “The force will guide you and help you through the roadblocks,” she paused and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Let it flow through you. If I am not their physically to help you. I am there through the force.”

When you opened your eyes you saw a silver shining metal walking towards you. Mando, he did it. You cursed yourself for not stopping him. Mando walked up to you and nodded before following him into the cantina. “Mando! Y/N! They all hate you,” You turned to face all the glared and stares from the other hunters. “Because you’re legends.” Greef said smiling brightly.

You stared blankly at him, you weren’t in the mood, you wanted to go back and raid the building. Grab the child and leave. Even if that meant leaving Mando. “How many of them had tracking fobs?” Mando asked grimly.

Greef scoffed at the comment before motioning around the room. “All of them. All of them! But not one of them closed the deal. Only you two,” then came his smirk he scoffed once more. “And with it, the richest reward this parsec has ever seen.” He lifts the side of his jacket to reveal more beskar. I glared for a moment then straighten up.

Everyone was part of this? Being okay with the child being thrown in the hands of the most dangerous people? You took a breath in and noticed that Mando was sitting down. You followed him and sat next to him. You didn’t say a word as they exchanged words and eventually more jobs. You stared at the puck Mando had then back in the cantina.

Mando nudged you to scoot out. “Any idea what they’re gonna do with it?”

“It?” You whispered both Mando and agreed looked at me. You didn’t realize you said it out loud more importantly how you said it.

Instead of saying anything they continued. “I didn’t ask. It’s against the Guild Code.”

“They work for the Empire.” You said gritting your teeth. You can feel the anger building up. You tried to make yourself more calm but couldn’t stop thinking about what they would do to the kid.

“What are they doing here?” Mando added looking down at him.

“The Empire is gone. All that is left is mercenaries and warlords. But if it bothers you that much just go back to the Core and report it to the New Republic.” He explained.

You rolled your eyes and Mando scoffed. “That’s a joke.”

“Both of you enjoy your rewards. Buy some camtono of spice. By the time you come out of hyperspace you will have forgotten all about it.” Greef leaned back smiling at us.

You shook your head and both of you walked out. It was quiet between the two of you. “We shouldn’t leave the kid like that,” You whispered as you passed by people. “Who knows what they are going…”

“Let’s get going.” Mando said interrupting. At first you thought to step back and just leave to get the kid. However your sabers were in the Razor and you knew if you were gonna storm there you needed them.

When you went inside the Razor, you waited until Mando was out of sight. You hurried and grabbed the things you needed and heard the ship power on and closely powered off. You snapped you head up to the ladder as you shoved the sabers in the back pocket. “Let’s go.” He said grabbing weapons.

You smiled at him and followed him out. It was like a blur as you both walked through the town. When you both reached the alley that they were located he turned to you. “We sneak from the back, I will get the door to distract them.”

You nodded your head as you both part ways for the moment. You started to plant the small bombs against the wall. You left one of your hands against the wall, finding where they kept the kid. “Ready?” Mando asked distracting you.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You and Mando stood a good couple feet away blowing a hole through the wall. Alarms blared as you stepped through the hole, shooting at anything that moved. Mando right behind you doing the same. You hurried through the hallways and stopped at the door that you felt the force strongly at.

When opening it the doctor cowardly put his hands up. Mando walked towards the child as you aimed your gun to the doctor’s head. “No no no don’t hurt it. It’s just a child! Please please! If it wasn’t for me it would be dead!”

“What did you do to it?” Mando asked picking him up.

You pressed the gun against the doctor’s head. “What did you do to jt!” You yelled.

“I saved it, they wanted it dead but I saved it.” He said over and over again. You looked up to see Mando heading for the door, you followed him out.

Mando and you walked fast but cautiously towards the door. Shooting at the troopers that found their way toward you. When you reached to the main room, that you both made the deal at. There was no one in there. “For a fortified building you would th…”

“Freeze!”

You turned and saw four stormtroopers surrounding the both of you. You slowly put you hands up, getting ready to use the force to place your sabers in your hands. “Wait. What I’m holding is very valuable,” Mando interrupted placing his weapon and the child down. You looked at him questioning his move. “Here.” Ignoring my stare.

That’s when you heard whistling and air brush pass you. You heard the troopers around you gurgle and call to the ground. You looked around to see smoke coming from their armor. “New toy?” You tease smiling at him.

Mando shrugged picking up the child. “Yeah something like that.”

You both hurried out cautiously, immediately noticing how quiet it was outside too. No one was out and about, walking around, selling. Nothing. “Mando! Y/N! Welcome back! Now put the package down.” Greef ordered as other Hunters came around every corner and roof.

You looked around and felt the force once again. You looked down at the child and he was sleeping. “When you need to young one fight and kill to protect yourself and others who can not fight for themselves. That is the only time.”

“But isn’t what Master Yoda said not to do?” You asked looking up at your master.

She half smiled and put her hand on your shoulder. “Yes he did but you have to survive. And so does others.”

You looked down at your shoes. “How would I know?”

“Trust in the force,” She said getting to your level. “Only trust in the force. It will guide you on what to do.”

You heard a blaster bolt passed you as Mando dived into the carriage that a droid would drive. You went in as well as the droid started driving, having blaster bolts fly passed both of your heads. You thought that you both would make it until you felt the crash into the side with smoke coming from the droid.

It was quiet for a moment, you watched as Mando brought his rifle out. “Protect it.”

You looked down at the child as Mando shot a couple of shots. You held him laying down on your side, protecting him. He stirred and looked at you. “No matter what young one protect your own.”

Mando shot back as the blaster bolts came flying pass your heads. Mando looked over at you then the kid. You sighed and stood up, you felt someone grab your arm to pull you down but you already grabbed one of your sabers. Igniting it, the shine of the s/c illuminates around you. Everything seemed to slow and still, you felt the hand slowly releasing your arm.

You pulled out the other saber igniting it as well. That’s when the blaster fire hit, you swung both of your sabers deflecting the bolts hitting them into the owner. Some you made sure would hit near others that would coward away. You looked down at Mando. “Come on!”

That’s when you both heard noises above you, looking up you saw more Mandalorians. Your eyes went wide as you saw them defending for you both to flee. Mando hopped all the way out holding the child close to his chest as he shot his pistol towards the hunters. One hunter came close to you as you swung slicing his chest, having him stubble backwards.

“This is the way.” You heard Mando’s voice through the yelling and blaster fire. Mando looked over at you and nudged over to where the Razor Crest was at.

As you both ran towards the exit you would block any sort of fire towards him and the child. Some of course would zoom pass hitting near all three of you. Mando and You were about to run on the ramp when you heard a voice behind you both. “Hold it you two,” You both slowly turned. Greef he was pointing his gun at the both of you. “I didn’t want to come to this but you both broke the code.”

Before you could say anything Mando shot him making him fall back. You turned to him and he shrugged running up the ladder with the kid. You followed behind as he started up the Crest, he was still out on the chair. You watched as the Crest rose up to head out. You watched as it left the town behind, you started to relax when you heard something fly next to you.

Mando and you looked over at the window and saw another Mandalorian. They waved you down and Mando shook his head. “I gotta get me one of those.”

You heard the child coo snapping your head down. “Hey little guy.” You said picking him up.

Mando side glanced over. “Probably should feed it.” His voice was off and didn’t look over at you.

“Yeah I will find him something.” You mumbled walking out. You took one glance over before going down.

Couple of hours passed as you wrapped the little one and placed him in the small bed that was tucked in the corner of the room. You tucked things away, cleaning the area that you cooked up a small bowl of soup you made for the kid. You brought your sabers out looking down at them.

You can’t believe that you showed yourself. Not to just him but to everyone there, now you will be a bounty just as much as the child. You inhaled deeply looking over at the sleeping child. You heard footsteps as they stopped, you looked over to see Mando standing next to the ladder looking at you.

You looked away and placed your sabers up in the container up on the top shelf. “So you hid the swords there?” He said leaning against the wall.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You said softly.

It was quiet for a moment. “What are you?” He murmured.

You sighed. “Mando…”

“No I deserve to know,” He walked up to you getting close and inches from your face. You saw your reflection through the chrome of his helmet. What were you… “After that whole thing down there. I…You…” He sighed looking away before looking back at you. “What are you?”

“Never be ashamed of who you are,” Both you and your master sat in the garden that was located on the temple grounds. The sun beamed hitting the color of the flowers and the large tree. That day you were scared on using the force from stories that other children talked about. You were 4. Young. Freshly trying to levitate an object. You looked down. “Being a jedi is far more greater then anything else in the galaxy. But it is also a greater responsibility. You will learn Y/N. One day.” She held your hand and smiled at you.

“I’m not a monster,” You chuckled. “I’m a Jedi.”

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandolarian x reader #din djarin x y/n #mando #star wars #the mandalorian #jedi reader #Bounty Mini Series

[sirikenobi12]

Them: The Trench coat scene in Obi-Wan Kenobi was silly and therefore it RUINED the show!!!

Me: Is it really more silly than say... - Ewoks taking out Walkers with logs (or having a dress that fits Leia)

- Jar Jar getting his head caught in the beam and his tongue is “fat”

- Luke milking a creature and drinking warm green milk

- The droid foundry scene in AOTC

- The “Box” concept in TCW

- The Mudhorn egg quest in Mandalorian

- Grogu eating the frog eggs in the Mandalorian - The Musical number in ROTJ - The trash compactor scene in ANH - Every other podracer except Anakin - Chewie and the Porgs

- Leia floating back into the star ship from space (aka Superman or Mary Poppins style)

- Facial transformation and voice emulator in TCW

- The Purrgil

- Chewie’s Tarzan yell

Sometimes Star Wars is silly, and that’s part of it’s charm!  So maybe let’s forgive a moment of levity in a show that has already given us on screen near child torture, dead bodies of Jedi displayed as trophies, a man choking and breaking the necks of innocent by standards, a lynched body hanging as a warning, a man being burned for revenge, drug use, real depictions of depression and child kidnapping.  One silly moment has never “ruined” Star Wars before and it doesn’t ruin it now. Get over it. 

#star wars #obi wan kenobi spoilers #obi wan kenobi series #owk spoilers #star wars is silly #lets be a better fandom #calm down anakin #just enjoy the show

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Seven.

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C    

word count: 7.5 K  

chapter summary: Marathel had seen her sisters and cousins suffer greatly for what they thought was love.  And now she would follow in their footsteps.   

warnings:  sexual abuse, physical abuse, violence towards women, child sexual abuse, child rape, child pregnancy, forced pregnancy, torture, allusion to suicide ideation, enmeshed misogyny, Mando'a and English cursing   

You Were Marked: Masterlist    

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter  

It was deep in the night before Marathel was able to get up out of bed.  Every time she shifted, the Bounty Hunter would shift right with her, keeping his arms wound tightly around her.  He resisted her attempts to move his hands, mumbling something in his language.  She finally managed to gently push him to his back, his hand dragging off her and coming to rest on his chest.  

Marathel was torn by her actions.  She wanted so much to remain next to him as long as possible, to keep her fantasy of being loved and cherished alive.  At the same time, she needed to protect her heart if she was going to manage to get through the next few hours.   Getting herself and the eggs to the Hold and the Aurodium coins into the Bounty Hunter’s hands was going to take the remainder of her resolve; after that, she would easily shatter into a million pieces, and it would be a blessing.  She only hoped that the Bounty Hunter would unknowingly continue to play his part until this was finished.   

Marathel rolled off the bed tick and on to the wooden floor, and she held the curtain open to look back at the man who had unexpectedly come into her life.  She supposed he cared for her on some level, which amazed her.  Surely there were women on these other planets who would better suit him than someone like her.  Marathel watched him sleep, his armored chest rising and falling.  She marveled how he could sleep wearing all that. The helmet must create a cradle for his head, she thought.  He had mentioned an Armourer;  and she supposed that each piece must be crafted for him.   

Was he a high-ranking Elder in his tribe?   

The idea of the Bounty Hunter being an Elder as she knew it nauseated her to the point of tears, and this thought got her up and moving.  He had seen enough of her tears. 

Marathel found the basket that she hoped she would never look in again.  At the very bottom were the articles of clothing she detested.   She pulled each of them out, assessing their condition: wrinkled but still intact.  Marathel took the small stack of clothing behind her hut to press out the wrinkles and freshen them, wondering how many times she prepared the same items for others in the Hold.  She had taken these with her when Diwhyn Olba had taken her from the Hold, thinking that she wouldn’t be gone very long, and she would be wearing these sooner than later.  Each passing season they remained in the basket, until now.  When they were finished, they hung on her drying rack, next to the Bounty Hunter’s clothing, and for a fleeting moment she indulged the fantasy that they lived somewhere far away from the Hold, where they were each other’s, where she was a part of his Mudhorn clan of two, making it three.  The tears threatened again, and she sharply slapped herself across the face twice to stop that foolishness.  Realizing that the noise might wake the Bounty Hunter, she held her breath, feeling frantic, waiting.  After a few moments, she quietly collected his clothing and brought it back to the hut. 

After laying the clothing on her table, she went to find her sewing kit, accidentally kicking some of the twigs she and Grogu had collected earlier.  She froze again, listening for any sign that she had woken up the Bounty Hunter.  There was nothing but silence.  Marathel felt panic rising; she needed to escape this hut before she began to scream.  She grabbed a few twigs and the three balls of yarn off the floor and dashed off the platform, following the stream towards the necessary and her garden.  When she felt she was a safe distance away, she fell to her knees — what were a few more bruises now? — and began to sob uncontrollably, shaking, mourning what she was not allowed to have. 

After the worst of her breakdown had ebbed, under the moonlight, she chose the three best twigs, and wove them together in a little raft, using the three colors of yarn: green for Grogu, brown for the Bounty Hunter, and yellow for herself.  She kissed the little raft and set it sailing down the stream, knowing it would pass by the hut and under the platform where the Bounty Hunter slept.  Would he know? Would he be able to tell that the last pieces of my heart are drifting right by?  As it floated away, she said goodbye to the life she’d had the past few days, her best days, her happiest, her tiny family.  Looking up at the moon, she cursed Frith for granting her wish just to take it away. 

Weary now, Marathel stood and went to her garden, walking through each row, trailing her fingers along the tops of each plant, thanking them for feeding her and a Bounty Hunter and his little boy.  She went to the chook pen and opened the gate to allow them to run free if they chose.  They were stupid, though, and would probably be picked off by the Dahls.  She hoped Rodanthe would get to them first.   

Rodanthe, my love, why did you leave me when I need you so much now?   

Marathel raised her face in a vain attempt to keep the tears in her eyes, and she looked at the tree where Grogu had moved her, where she’d gotten stuck, much to the amusement of the Bounty Hunter, and she’d thrown eggs at him, eggs, for Frith’s sake. 

The night before that, she had had her first experience of the Bounty Hunter beneath his armor, the first touches of his skin, his body against hers, in hers … but it wasn’t until she’d heard him laughing that she knew he was a person. And, of course, that was the moment she knew she loved him. Such a ridiculous thing to do, really. Love always takes, never gives.  She had seen her sisters and cousins suffer greatly for what they thought was love.  And now she would follow in their footsteps.   

Marathel returned to the hut and shook her lantern to make it give off a pale light, just enough to barely see by.  She futzed about in her kitchen briefly, making sure each jar had its lid and pushing all the pots until they were even with the shelf edge. Just above the dry sink, her fingertips fell on a little clam shell, the one Grogu had given her at the lava flats.  There was a tiny worm hole at the top of the shell, near the hinge.  Taking the three balls of yarn from her pocket, she untwisted a length of each color and knitted a slender cord, attaching it to the shell to create a pendant. Instead of wearing it, she decided to simply hang it on a peg of her loom, for whomever came to this hut after her, as a symbol that three people lived here as a family, connected by the little child. 

These chores done, Marathel sat down to repair the Bounty Hunter’s flight suit and embroider the Mudhorn on the inside pocket, hoping that whatever he did think of her — whether it was true affection or just desire of an object — he would carry a memory of her when he left this place. 

It was sometime later that Din awoke.  He hadn’t been dreaming, strictly speaking, but he’d become aware that he was alone again in this bed tick.  He turned his head to the side, flicked on the thermal sensor, and verified by the lack of any heat signature that Marathel was up and about again, and had been for some time.  He rolled off the tick, feeling ungainly and stiff.  He hated beds on the floor more with damn passing year.  He stepped out through the curtains, and saw Marathel slumped over at the table, needle and thread in her hand.  He moved closer to her, and a smile came to his face: she had gathered his flight suit into a little pillow and was fast asleep on the pile of stiff fabric.  He gently pulled her hair back behind her shoulders and stroked her face with his gloved hand.  “Marathel, wake up.” 

She frowned in her sleep and softly smacked her lips.  “Mmmmm …” she groaned as she tried to bury her face deeper in his flight suit. “Not finished with this …” 

“You’ve done enough.  Put down the needle.” He pulled the needle from her hand and stuck it into the fabric so it wouldn’t get lost.  He pulled her up to a standing position, lifting her into his arms.  He laid her back down on her bed tick and laid beside her again, wrapping both arms around her. “Stay with me; sleep now.” 

“Can’t stay … must get eggs,” she muttered in protest, even as she snuggled tighter against him. 

“I’ll wake you, I promise, cyar’e.  Stay with me, now.”  He sighed, stroking her hair, wondering if he should have granted her request.  On an impulse, he lifted his helmet just enough to press his lips against her scalp, feeling her warmth, smelling her hair, trying to commit her scent to memory before he dropped his helmet back in place. 

They slept. 

Din was already awake when his vambrace vibrated to let him know dawn was approaching.  Marathel was curled against him like they were two half-open jackknives in a drawer.  Some of her hair had made its way under his helmet and into his mouth. One of his knees was wedged between both of hers, and her hands were pressed up against his chest.  Her head rested on his bicep, and that arm was completely asleep.  His other hand was under her tunic against her bare back, and he must have removed his glove at some point without realizing it, as his hand was bare as well. 

Din reluctantly removed his hand from her back, and carefully pulled her hair out from underneath his helmet. He smoothed her hair off her face, whispering, “Marathel, it’s almost dawn, mesh’la.” She groaned softly but didn’t wake.  He looked down at her, soft and warm in her sleep.  Why hadn’t he watched her sleep before now?  Her eyes had dark circles and sand in the corners.  She had been crying again.  Din refused to believe she was crying for him, so she must be crying about what awaited her today.  He stroked the delicate, bruised skin under her eye with the pad of his bare thumb.  Ne’kar’ta, he thought.  The tip of his thumb brushed her eyelashes, and she twitched her eyebrows, beginning to wake.  Her eyes creaked open, squinting, focusing on the dark helmet inches from her face.  “Mesh’la,” said Din. 

Marathel stared at him for a moment as she became more awake.  She immediately pushed up to a sitting position, looking away from him, intending to get up.  “I must go get the eggs now.” 

“Marathel …” 

“If you want to be helpful, collect the three pots of sand under the edge of the platform.  Put them on the hob.  I need hot sand to keep the eggs warm.”  She was already stepping out of the curtains and heading to the kitchen as she said this, and Din hurried to follow her. 

“Mesh’la, please …” 

“No more ‘Mesh’la’, Bounty Hunter!” she snapped.  Her hands went to her temples in frustration.  “Please … if you hold any regard for me, any at all, do not question me.  Do as I say.  Do you understand?” 

Din stepped back at her vehemence.  “I understand.” 

“Good.”  Marathel found a basket that held a stack of furs.  She tossed a long strap of fabric on top and left the hut by the back corner, without a backwards glance.  Din watched her go along the stream and past the rock outcrop, out of sight.  He stepped off the platform, looked under, and found the clay pots of sand she spoke of.  He lifted them up to the platform, stoked the fire, and placed the pots on the hob as she had requested.  Once done, Din went to Grogu’s pram and opened the lid, expecting to see a sleeping boy.  Instead, Grogu was already awake, sitting up in the center.  Grogu looked up at Din, his large eyes full of worry.  “Sad Mahr?” 

Din sighed.  “Yeah, buddy, sad Mahr.”  He placed his hand on the boy’s head, stroking his soft ear.  Grogu looked back down to his little feet.  “Are you hungry, pal?” Grogu shook his head, which worried Din.  He went down to one knee to get to the boy’s level.  “Sad Grogu?”  Grogu nodded.  “Me too, buddy.  Sad Din.”  Grogu looked back up to Din’s helmet.  “We have to say goodbye to Mahr today.  We both need to be brave.  We can do that, right?” 

Please say you can, kid, I won’t be able to be brave today without you. 

Grogu looked dubious, but finally nodded.  He reached out for Din with both arms, and Din pulled the boy into a hug.  “It’s going to be okay.”  Perhaps if he said it enough, Din might begin to believe it.   

Marathel had found the eggs she wanted to collect, despite being unable to hear where all the Dahls were.  Established females liked the same spots each season.  It still took a while to collect, as Marathel only took one egg from each clutch, and only if there were at least four eggs.  As she moved from clutch to clutch, she could hear the cries of each female as they discovered the theft of their eggs.  Each cry rent her heart, and she apologized to each female for taking a kit.  She begged Rodanthe to intercede for her as she had done in the past, but Rodanthe did not answer.   

Oh, she was so tired.  She was so ready for this to end.  On her way back to the hut, she noticed that the chooks still wandered about the pen, despite the unlatched gate.  Damned stupid clucks, she thought.  She was hardly any better, but at least her actions today would benefit the Bounty Hunter’s people as well as the Bounty Hunter, and the little boy she loved so much.  She would suffer anything for that child … and suffer she would. 

As she got back to the hut, she could see Grogu sitting on the table, refusing to eat the little bites of bread and cheese the Bounty Hunter offered him. The child was wearing the shirt and jump-ups from yesterday; the Bounty Hunter must have figured them out.  She also noticed that the Bounty Hunter was finishing the repairs on his flight suit.  “I’m sorry I didn’t finish the sewing.” 

Din looked at her briefly.  “It was almost done.  Of course, my handiwork is nowhere as good as yours.”  She sensed a fib as he deftly tied off the thread, even as he wore gloves.    

Marathel untied the heavy basket from her back.  “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” 

Din got up immediately to take the basket for her and help her step up into the hut.  “It was nothing, ne’kar’ta.”  Din grimaced under his helmet for saying the diminutive. Marathel looked at him, but she did not ask for a translation of the new word.  Instead, she checked the sand heating on the fire. 

“The sand feels good.  It’s hard for me to lift these heavy pots.  Would you please help me?” 

“What are we doing?” 

“Layering the eggs between fur and sand to keep them warm.” 

Din looked at Grogu.  “Uh … just how big are these eggs?”  Marathel lifted the top fur from her basket, lifting up an egg for Din and Grogu to see.  It was an oval shape, oblong, with a dark stripe around the middle, almost the length of her hand.  Grogu’s eyes lit up, but Din immediately swept Grogu off the table, placing him in the pram.  Pointing a gloved finger at Grogu’s nose, the Bounty Hunter said firmly, “Do. Not. Touch.  No eating eggs.  Got it?”  Grogu cooed with a winsome smile, and Din said, “Nope.  Can’t trust you,” as he closed the lid.  He turned back to Marathel, who was actually smiling behind her hand. 

“He is a menace to eggs, isn’t he, Bounty Hunter?” 

“And to frogs.” 

“He will be in my heart for the rest of my life,” said Marathel. Din saw tears glittering in her eyes, and he took two long strides to her and wrapped her in his arms, hard enough to clack her teeth together.  Her arms went immediately around his shoulders, squeezing his armor so tightly it left new bruises.  “Did you kiss me last night?” 

“Yes.” 

“I thought you weren’t allowed to do that.” 

“I’m not,” he said gruffly. 

A sob escaped her throat at the strain she heard in his voice. “Thank you.”  They held each other a few moments longer, until Marathel pushed away, turning to the basket.  “The eggs are cooling too much.”  Din helped her repack the basket, layering furs, hot sand, and eggs, and wrapping the whole affair with a large fur that she tied on with the long fabric strap.  Din replaced the large pots under the platform.  As he stepped back up, Marathel announced, “Now, you must take all your weapons back to your flying ship.  You may not, you must not bring them into the Hold.”  She looked at him, waiting for him to challenge her.  At his silence, she said, “You may not carry a single weapon with you.  No knives in boots, no whatever is in your wrist-thing, not even those metal jars on your leg.  A weapon will be seen as a challenge, and you will forfeit your reward.”  Again, her tone said she would brook no quarter.  “And … please take Grogu with you.  I need privacy … to prepare.” 

“Should we wait for you up there?” 

“No, come back here.  You must escort me to the Hold.” 

“That is …” Din was about to argue that making one-and-half round trips was completely unnecessary; who in the Hold would observe him escorting her up those switchbacks?  But then he saw her eyes drop again, her hands begin to tremble, and he thought that if he didn’t do her bidding, she was going to break apart.  “How long do you need us gone?” 

“If you go straight there and back, I’ll be ready.” 

Din opened Grogu’s pram, and Grogu kept looking pensively back and forth between the two grown-ups.  He floated over to Din, who had stepped off the platform and was re-attaching his plethora of weapons.  “Mahr?” said Grogu, pointing with his little clawed finger back towards Marathel, who stood in the center of the hut, twisting her hands together. 

“We’re coming back, kid, Mahr has things she needs to do without us here,” said Din. 

“It’s not good-bye yet, my little Godynferth.  I will see you soon.” 

Din slung his bag over his shoulder and took a last long look at the beautiful pale woman with the long silver hair, already missing her before they were gone.  Marathel returned his gaze, seeing him as he was when they first met, when she stood terrified of the metal man and little green creature who came unbidden and unwelcome to her life.  He turned and walked away, the pram floating behind him.   

Grogu looked back.  The Bounty Hunter did not.

Marathel died inside. 

As they entered the tall grass, Grogu softly whined, “Sad Mahr.”  Din swallowed and kept walking, knowing that if he looked back, there would be nothing in the galaxy that would stop him from running back to her and dragging her off this planet, Aurodium be damned. 

Marathel took her ceremonial bath as prescribed by the teachings of the Hold to the best of her abilities.  She did not have access to the powders and potions from the Hold, so she had to make do with what she had.  She sharply parted her wet hair down the middle, pulling the two sections to her temples, tightly plaiting the coarse locks into two braids that reached her waist.  She wrapped the pale blue wimple over her forehead, covering her ears.  Over this she placed the matching gorget over her throat and upper chest, ramming pins against her scalp to keep it in place.  Next came the skirt of blue with the fine embroidery, which fell to the middle of her shins.  When she was first given the skirt, it would have been closer to her ankles, but she had grown taller since then.  She was worried that the blouse would be too small, but she needn’t have worried.  It was a bit tight through the shoulders, but the blouse was voluminous enough that she was fully covered, and the sleeves were the right length to properly hide her hands.  The blouse was the same mid-tone blue as the skirt, and featured smocking on the sleeves with thread in dark blue, red, and two shades of green.  The embroidery was made of the same threads, swirls and flowers, all done by the hands of many Diwhyns that came before her.  The ends of the gorget and wimple tucked into the square neckline of the blouse.   

Marathel looked into the polished pot lid she used as a mirror.  The pale blue fabric against her pale skin made her look like a wraith, the two silver braids coming from her temples like long, drooping horns.  The veil and other items she would put on when she reached the Hold wall.  These she put in a gathering bag, then sat with her back to the table, tying the ends of the blue strap around her to secure the basket to her back.  She got up unsteadily, shifting the basket and re-tying the straps until the heavy basket was balanced properly on her back.  Marathel walked to the center of her hut, turning around, casting her eyes a final time on her home, where at least she had been contented with her small life, if not happy.  With a sigh, she sat on the steps to wait. 

When the hut came back into view, Din thought a stranger was sitting on Marathel’s steps.  It wasn’t until they were in the middle of the tall grass that he realized it was Marathel, fully dressed in blue. Her clothing was finely embroidered, but on her it seemed garish, tawdry.  Her hair was tightly bound in long braids that came out of the sides of her head, which looked like it hurt.  Her pale, expressionless face seemed even more ghostly against the blue fabric wound tightly around her face, reminding him of that dream he’d had.  He hated how she looked.  If he could get her off this planet, he would never want to see her hair in braids again.   

The thought also came to him: why the shab does she need to wear what appears to be ceremonial clothing to deliver eggs?  

Grogu was already reaching for Marathel as they approached, and he leapt out of the bag and into her arms over a distance of several meters, which surprised Marathel into a grin.  “My leaping Godynferth!  How talented you are, my love.”  Marathel raised her eyes to the Bounty Hunter.  “May I please have a few moments with him, to say goodbye?  Please?” 

Din immediately stepped back, turning to the stream, and sat on the rock where he had held Marathel’s hair while she vomited after saving Grogu’s life from Mist.  He looked to his feet, and there, stuck against the rock, was a tiny raft made of twigs, tied with the yarn Marathel and Grogu used to play their stick game.  What did she call it?  Something ridiculous.  ‘Poosticks’, that was it.  He picked up the little raft, turning it over in his gloved fingers before tucking it into a pocket, knowing that Marathel had made it, probably sometime in the night.  Why she had made it, Din could only guess, but he was loath to leave something made by her hands behind. 

Marathel put her hands on Grogu’s cheeks, looking into his eyes.  “My little Godynferth, this is goodbye.  I never did tell you that story, did I?”  She sniffled and ran her fingers through the child’s whispery hair.  “We will never meet again, child.”  Marathel lost her ability to speak for a moment as she watched Grogu’s face fall and his ears droop.   “I know you will grow up to be strong and brave, but please, please grow up to be kind.”  She pressed her lips to Grogu’s cheek.  “Please take care of your father.  I believe he needs you more than you need him.  He needs your love.  And please … remember me.”  Grogu held her cheeks in his little hands, and Marathel felt his love flow through her, giving her a sense of peace and calm.  “Thank you, my sweet,” she whispered.  Louder, she said, “It’s time to go.” 

Din stood and came over to her.  “If you like, I could carry the eggs so that you may carry Grogu.” 

“No, the eggs are my burden.”  She gave Grogu a last cuddle and handed him back to the Bounty Hunter before standing.  Marathel took a breath, willing her feet to move her.  She began to walk towards the tall grass, Din following behind with Grogu. 

Once they reached the mountain road, Marathel paused to look over the meadows, listening for the Dahls.  She heard nothing.  Sighing, she began walking again.  It was slow going, and the basket was heavy, but they eventually got to the switchbacks.   

Din remained silent but watched her every movement, the swing of her skirt, the stretch of the arch of her back foot as she stepped forward and up.  The supposed finery of the fabric against her bare legs seemed so out of place.  Her homespun clothing was as fine as garments from a high-end shop on Coruscant, in his opinion – and he wished he could see that fabric again, flowing against her magnificent skin as she stood ankle-deep in the stream beside her hut, the afternoon sun burnishing her hair to gold.  He forced himself to concentrate on the task coming up: getting to the Hold, potentially entering the Hold, and turning over the eggs.  He knew there would be more to happen, he knew Marathel was leaving out information, but he felt he could handle the possibilities, even without his weapons.  His fists made formidable weapons when needed, and sometimes, he preferred it that way.  Get her there, drop the eggs, get the coins, get her out.  Easy.  Minimum effort.  Whoever was up there didn’t have blasters, and it was easy to disarm those with knives and other primitive weapons.  He liked the odds.   

They came up to the edge of the plateau just under the Hold.  Marathel paused, looking up at the rock wall above her.  “Bounty Hunter, it’s time to take Grogu to your flying ship.  He must not come into the Hold.” 

Din shook his head.  “No.  He goes where I go.” 

Marathel sighed. “They will not understand a … they will be frightened by him, just as I was when you first arrived.  They have never seen a little green boy before.  It is safer for him to be locked in your ship.  And … I don’t want him to see anything that might happen in there.” 

Din felt his stomach drop again.  “Why? What could happen?” 

Marathel sighed.  “Frightened people are unpredictable people.” 

Never a truer word was spoken, thought the Bounty Hunter. 

“Please, just do as I say,” she said wearily.  “Go ahead, then meet me at the door.”  Din stared at the back of her head for a moment, watching the braids tremble at her temples.  He passed by, Grogu gazing at her over Din’s shoulder.  Marathel blew him a kiss as they went up and over the plateau.  Once they had gone, Marathel took the last two steps up.  She pulled out the remaining items from her bag and leaned against the rock to put on the long white stockings that rolled up to mid-thigh, tying them off with the blue ribboned garters.   

After this came the shoes, the only shoes females were allowed to wear, and they were ever only worn once.  More of a slipper than a shoe, the heavy dark blue canvas wrapped around her foot, and the laces were finger-wide straps that wound up and around her legs until they reached her knees, at which point her knees were tied together in a twisted symbol of virginity.  It would make for difficult walking, but the shoes would not remain on her long. Her fingers trembled as she made the last knot.

Marathel stood, and lastly placed the woven light blue veil over her face and head. The ends were split to accommodate her braids, which remained exposed, with the remainder of the fabric going down her back to her ankles.  Marathel looked dumbly at the empty bag in her hand for a moment before she tossed it down the path.  Someone would find it and use it.  Slowly and awkwardly, she went to the door, her hands up her sleeves, to wait for the Bounty Hunter to return, to carry on the next phase of her end. 

Din emerged from the woods to see Marathel, looking like a very shy bride, covered as she was from head to toe.  He paused at the sight of her legs and feet clad in stockings and shoes, her attire putting him in the mind of an elaborate doll.  He came up beside her, looking at her face that he could no longer see behind the swath of fabric.  He felt dismay at the loss of the sight of her lovely face. 

Marathel took a breath and said, “Shortly, I will knock on this door, and you will take me inside.  You will hold me by my upper arm until I am called forward by the Elders.  You will not speak, you will not interject, you will not intercede, no matter what happens in there.” 

“Marathel …” 

“You will be still!  For the love of Frith and anything that you have ever held sacred in your life, you will do as I say!”  Her trembling hands went to her temples again, and she bent over slightly to regain her composure.  Din placed his hand on her upper arm, much as he would drag a mark back to his ship.  Marathel took a breath and straightened but continued to tremble.  She raised her fist to pound on the door, but … could not. 

Marathel turned to him, placing her shaking hands on his forearms, and looked up to his helmet.  “Bounty Hunter … please … tell me your name.” 

How had he not told her all this time?  After everything that had gone between them? He gripped her arms as she gripped his, his hands shaking as well.  “My name is … Din Djarin.” 

“Din Djarin,” Marathel parroted back to him, and she reached up and placed her hands on his helmet, then kissed him where she supposed his mouth would be, the fabric of her veil and the beskar between them, and he placed his hands on her jaw, and all he could see was fabric in his visor, and he could not kiss her back because of the molded interior of his helmet, with space between the beskar and his face.  She pulled her lips away but placed her forehead against his, and said, “Din Djarin, thank you for giving me the happiest days of my life.”  She sobbed once.  “Din Djarin, know that I loved you as much as I knew how.  Please … remember me.”  Marathel pulled out of his grasp and pounded on the door four times with her fist. 

After a few moments, the peep hole in the door slid open, and there was an audible gasp behind it.  The heavy door opened, and the woman in red appeared, moaning, “No, no, no … Don’t do this, Marathel!” 

Marathel’s voice was flat as a prairie on Kinyen as she said, “Open the door, Olba.  Ring the bell.” 

“Not this way, child!”  Diwhyn Olba reached out to Din, pleading, “Bounty Hunter, take her away from here!  Take her on your flying ship!  Don’t let her do this!” 

“Ring the bell, Olba.”  Olba burst into tears.  Marathel took her hands gently.  “This is the way.”  Din had never hated hearing the call of his people more.  Olba knew something he didn’t, Marathel had in fact lied to him about what would happen to her, and he felt powerless to make it stop.  Marathel took Din’s hand and placed it on her upper arm.  “It’s time to get your reward, Bounty Hunter.”  Olba, still sobbing, pushed the doors fully open, and Marathel led Din inside the Hold.   

It was a large, flat, dirt courtyard, a large portion given over to a highly organized garden, with certain walls holding well-manicured berry vines.  Olba rang a large bell that hung just inside the large doors, and the doors opened on the low, flat building, and people began to spill out.  As Marathel and Din moved forward, he was careful to keep his helmet pointed forward, but he could easily see the people coming out the of the building.  Women and girls of all ages gathered together.  Every single one was barefoot.  The taller women all wore ankle-length gowns that seemed to be in four major colors: blue, like the color Marathel was wearing, red, and two distinct shades of green.  All the women in the gowns wore a full-face veil, and many were in various stages of pregnancy.  The younger girls wore tunics and skirts of the same colors.  Then he noticed that some of the pregnant ones were not small women but were in fact young girls.  Girls who hadn’t even reached their full heights, he assumed, and one in particular, gravid and swollen, grasped the hand of a taller woman beside her for support, was surely still of an age in the single digits. 

Din had heard of such things happening, heard of places like this, but somehow, even during the darkest days of the Empire, he’d managed to not have to see such things with his own eyes.  How lucky he’d been.   

Beyond the throng of women were a bunch of small boys, many wearing the same style of jump-ups that Marathel had made for Grogu.  Every boy wore a pair of shoes and held themselves with a superior air to the women who stood behind them, their heads held high, many with a knowing smirk on their faces as Marathel passed them, as if they knew what was about to commence.   

The doors of the tall round building opened, and a phalanx of young men came out.  Each young man wore the same colors as the women, leading Din to assume they represented the four houses of the Elders.  Each one wore boots, finely polished.  Each one carried some sort of weapon, mostly small knives, until the older and larger men came out.  These men carried larger weapons that seemed to coincide with age and rank.  Din noticed a few swords, spears, a battle axe or two.  One sported a large hammer that had a peculiar glint to it.  Din began plotting methods to disarm as many as possible, if need be, deciding whom he would go for first.   

The Elders were next.  They were led by a large man, taller than Din and just as broad, bedecked fully in red.  His boots, breeches, jerkin and fur-trimmed houppelande, were all in various shades of red from the color of blood to the deepest burgundy.  Two younger men in shades of green followed, flanking an older man using a walking stick.  The older man wore a brocaded long coat of shades of blue, trimmed with fur and metallic threads, over pants of darkest navy and black leather boots, embroidered with many shades of blue thread.  His hair was long and was a deep silver, his skin the white of the underbelly of a dead fish, and his hands were long, bony, just like the hands Din remembered from his dream.  Marathel trembled beside him, and he could feel the vibrations of terror in the hand that was holding her arm.  It could only be the Bishop. 

The man in red called out, “Who comes?” 

Marathel took a deep breath and announced, “Captain, it is I, Marathel.  I am presenting myself as Whyn to the Bishop.” 

Din felt his heart drop.  There were some gasps among the women, but the Captain laughed.  He turned to the other Elders and said, “Fuck me sideways, it worked, Duke, it worked.  Many, many seasons late, but it finally worked.”  The Captain turned back to Marathel.  He nodded at Din.  “And this is … a bounty hunter?” 

Din suddenly felt a hand squeeze around his upper arm, much like how he held Marathel’s arm.  A sideways glance told him it was Olba, warning him.  “It is,” Din responded. 

The Captain looked Din up and down.  “What sort of bounty hunter are you?” 

“One that expects payment on delivery.”  Din was glad his voice was even as he counted the weapons on the Captain’s belt.  A knife, a short recurving sword, and what appeared to be another knife in one boot.   

The Captain laughed.  “All in good time, friend.”  He reached out and pulled Marathel away from Din.  “Take the eggs,” the Captain ordered to the closest of the younger men in blue.  They came forward and untied the basket from her back and took it away from her.  “She does look much different than I remember, doesn’t she, Bishop?“ 

“She does. It has been too long, my sweet girl. Come to me, baby girl,” crooned the old man.  Marathel stepped forward awkwardly towards the man she hated.  “Show me.”  Marathel faltered, but reached down and lifted her skirt up to her waist, exposing her nudity to the entire Hold.  Din turned his head and shut his eyes, ashamed to be witnessing her degradation, but not before he had seen her knees tied together, the reason for which he could not fathom.  “Cut them,” snapped the Bishop, making Din turn back to the spectacle before him in horror.  Cut what?  The same two young men in blue came forward with their knives to cut loose the bonds holding her legs together, fondling her exposed skin while they did so, rolling down her stockings and forcing her out of them. As she stood barefoot and exposed, the taller of the boys reached between her thighs and pulled her leg -- the one with the brand -- to the side as he grabbed her breast and squeezed.  Marathel whimpered.  You will be the first to die, thought Din as he clenched his fists.   

The Bishop bent slightly to inspect the brand on Marathel’s leg, his bony fingers trailing on her skin.  “You’ve come back, like the good girl you are.  Are you still my good girl?  Are you?” The Bishop drove his finger inside her, and she cried out.  Din tried to take a step forward, but Olba squeezed his arm even tighter.  Din noticed the man with the hammer leave rank and circle closer to him, opposite the Captain. Din wanted to keep an eye on that hammer.  Something about the metal made him think that it could possibly be beskar.  Aurodium coins and a beskar weapon?  What other secrets are here? 

The Bishop straightened, stepping even closer to Marathel, and she turned her head to the side, and Din could see her veil billowing in and out of her mouth with each of her panicked breaths.  The Bishop grabbed her jaw, forcing him to face her.  Pointing a finger at Din, the Bishop shouted, “DID HE TAKE YOU?”   

“NO!” screamed Marathel.  Then she took a deep breath, and said clearly, enunciating every syllable, “I took HIM.” 

“Fucking WHORE!”  The Bishop struck her with a backhanded hit that was more punch than slap.  Marathel stumbled sideways but did not fall.  Several of the women cried out.  Din’s fists clenched so hard stitches popped in the seams of his gloves, but he found himself unable to move, as if Diwhyn Olba’s hand on his arm prevented him from moving.  The wholesale cruelty of this Hold burned his mind and shocked him into inaction.  The atrocities that must happen here were beyond his ability to comprehend. 

“Brazen CUNT!”  The Bishop swung his walking stick, clocking Marathel on her ear, and this time, she did fall to her knees, a poppy of blood forming on her veil.   

The Bishop grabbed Marathel by one of her braids, pulling her up until she was barely on her feet, the braid looped around her neck, cutting off her air.  She scrabbled at the braid, only succeeding at scratching her own face. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe!  But no words came from her; Marathel could only scream in her own head.  “You’re ready for him, you were dripping for his cock, but you ran away from me?  I’m not waiting for you any longer, pretty girl.  You were mine from the moment you were born.  You were marked for me!” 

The Captain rolled his eyes.  “Calm yourself, Bishop, we only requested she be returned; we did not specify her condition,” he guffawed, and some of the other men in red laughed as well. 

The Bishop let go of Marathel’s braid, and she fell to the ground.  “Get her up,” the Bishop snapped at the two young men in blue.  The men grabbed her by her arms and pulled her roughly to her feet.  The Bishop ripped off her veil.  Blood was oozing from her nose and ear, and a dark bruise was already forming on her cheekbone.  “You want to be a Belwhyn so bad, you bitch, you cunt, you whore?  I’ll make you a Belwhyn when I’m done with you.”    

Better a Belwhyn for one day than to be your Whyn for however many more seasons I have, thought Marathel.  She weaved on her feet for a moment, putting her hand to her face, bewildered by the blood on it. She looked over to Din, who still stood frozen, Olba clutching his arm.  Forgive me, Din Djarin, just a few more moments, and then this foolishness is done. Be still. 

“Captain!” she shouted.  “The Bounty Hunter must have his reward!” The Bishop backhanded her again, and Din was sure he saw a tooth fly.  Why was he frozen like this?  Why couldn’t he move? 

“Ah, yes, of course.”  The Captain tossed a cloth bag to Din, who caught it blindly.  The bag was heavy and felt full of coins.  He absently shoved it behind his cuirass, staring at Marathel.  His eyes locked on hers as she took a breath, turned, and with her head held high, walked under her own power into the round building. 

And then she was gone. 

Frith in heaven, thought Din.  What have I done? 

The Captain sidled closer to Din.  “You got to fuck that sweet fat pussy?  I heard Dahl-women pussy is the sweetest, fucking dripping for any cock in her holes ...” Din shook off Olba’s arm and threw his entire weight into a punch that sent the Captain staggering back a few feet.  Several of the larger men jumped forward to contain Din, who threw two of them off one arm as if they weighed nothing, while the two on his other arm half-twisted it behind Din’s back.  The Captain laughed as he said, “You won’t want to cum in that cunt’s pussy once we’re done with it, bounty hunter.” Din growled and threw himself forward, out of the hands of the men holding him, grabbing the Captain by his red fur collar and throwing him on the ground, grabbing the Captain’s knife out of his boot, driving his elbow into the Captain’s windpipe. 

“Call her a cunt again, hutuun,” snarled Din as he flipped the knife around to shove it up under the Captain’s ribs, when he was hit very hard in the back of his helmet with a resounding clang. 

Din Djarin fell flat on his face, and then everything went black. 

The Captain got up, rubbing his throat.  “Pwrs’ych,” he spat at the prone bounty hunter.  The Captain took three steps and kicked over the egg basket.  “Don’t know why we bother with those fucking things.” 

“What about the coins, Captain?” asked the under-Captain, the man with the beskar hammer. 

“Leave them.  They’re useless to us.  He plowed the cunt … he should get a prize.” 

You Were Marked: Next Chapter ->

#mando angst #din djarin angst #the mandalorian angst #mandalorian angst #the mandalorian #din djarin #mandalorian smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin series #din djarin x oc #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x female reader

[gritty-pasta]

Another Convention done! A dragon tried to eat my Star Fragment and a Jawa tried to trade it for a Mudhorn Egg.

#imarriedpastarambles

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Shameless "Dashboard Simulator" with my Clone OCs for more characterization practice.

Whoops: this has been buried in my drafts for a while, but I added new stuff.

☀️ knight-caelen

Very well, @cc-juke-417 I made the account, now what?

🎹 cc-juke-417

Hold on, one second, General! Let me tag Captain Law.

@capt-law-302 now you can share the funny bantha videos.

📋 capt-law-302

I have so many more saved in my bantha tag, General.

#bantha #video files #welcome to the holonet General #302 legion

( 302 notes )

🪺 fabric-feathers

I don't really wanna talk about, like, the war and stuff like a lot of other clone troopers are so maybe I'll do a bird blog instead?

🔪 toaninchofyourlife follow

You totally should, Vas!

🪺 fabric-feathers

Um? Who are you?

🔪 toaninchofyourlife follow

Oh it's me, Carver! So sorry! I thought all the woodcarving and knife care would've made it obvious that it's me. (It was the username, wasn't it? You can thank @stonestack (Cairn) for that one, I can't figure out how to change it.)

⛰️ stonestack follow

You're welcome.

besh-trill-wesk @rowdytooka ... Vas FINALLY made a holoblog.

🦁 rowdytooka

CANVAS! :D Ya finally made one ya lil scamp! You should totally do a bird blog!

#hi little brother!! #now we just gotta convince cypher to make a bug blog and maybe you guys can like collab or something :') #lil nerds putting their heads together (affectionate)

( 5 notes )

🔪 toaninchofyourlife

⛰️ stonestack

HEY

🔪 toaninchofyourlife

hELP how do I change the "at" to "to"? I meant to say I was gonna make more of the worry stones Cairn likes to use for his stacks and I posted this when I was half asleep!!!

I was thinking of giving them to him as I made them I swear I swear

🔪toaninchofyourlife

@capt-law-302 CAPTAIN LAW HELP

📋capt-law-302

@medic-riddance You may have some patients coming into the medbay, soon. It's the twins again.

#these boys... #I voted for the mudhorn egg

( 14 notes )

❤️‍🩹medic-riddance

Gentle reminder to the 302nd Legion of the GAR:

Around this time of year for many planets, it's cold and flu season. So please keep up with regular handwashing protocol! - Rid

🥼hes-a-wylie-one

NOT SO GENTLE REMINDER BECAUSE RID IS TOO NICE TO SAY IT: WASH THE FILTHY GERM-PILES YOU CALL HANDS, YOU DISGUSTING PETRI DISHES!

ct-deactivated4043098348

okay fess up who got wylie sick again

🥼hes-a-wylie-one

WHEN I FIND OUT WHO GAVE ME MALONGO POX I'M GONn

[Hi brothers, please let me know over on @medic-riddance if Wylie's posting anything strange or unusual. Treatment for Malongo pox involves sedatives, so while it should mean he's sleeping, who knows what he'll start posting again when the first dosage wears off! He's sleeping right now, at least. Thanks and all the best, Rid.]

ct-deactivated4043098348

poor wylie

( 417 notes )

🦁 rowdytooka

... Carver what the hell is your #knife husbandry tag?

#please tell me that's cairn's doing #kriffing??? knife husbandry??? #you know we can all see that right?

( 22 notes )

🪲ilikebigbugs

@ruff-n-rowdy Fess up. Why'd you change my username? I can't change it back to cyphers-and-codexes!

🥊ruff-n-rowdy follow

It wasn't me, Cypher, honest. You can thank @shortfortactical it was his idea. I did sneak him your datapad, though.

🐺shortfortactical

I can give you cyphers-and-codexes back if you really want it.

🪲ilikebigbugs

I still don't believe you that figuring out the "bug trick" from this Arcadia friend of yours was a happy coincidence, Tack.

#I'm gonna keep the new username for now #brothers in my legion kept misspelling 'codexes' and could never tag me properly in things... #you're forgiven. for now.

( 104 notes )

#frosts fandom freakouts #dashboard simulator #oc talk #star wars #jedi oc: caelen #clone oc: commander juke #clone oc: captain law #clone oc: canvas #clone oc: carver #clone oc: cairn #clone oc: scruffy #clone oc: medic riddance #clone oc: medic wylie #clone oc: cypher #clone oc: scuffle #clone oc: tack #am I late to the trend? probably but who cares!

[lillikoifish]

Wish I coulda eaten mudhorn egg at galaxy’s edge. Looks delicious. Get on it disney.

#mando rewatch #the mandolarian #star wars

[daimyosprincess]

i mean it's sad the rancor died in rotj but it was still done out of self defense? the victims thrown in the pit didn't wanted to be eaten or crushed, and not everyone knew about calming a creature with the force. unlike the time din and grogu harassed and took down a mudhorn mom who was just protecting her egg. 🤷‍♀️

For sure for sure, Luke wasn't wrong to act in self-defense at all. And the poor mama mudhorn who lost her egg 😭 that made me sad too, my dramatic ass

#these creatures just trying to live their lives and the star wars plot won't let them lol #ask

[burnwater13]

“Where ever I go, he goes.” Sure, people credit that to the Mandalorian, but Grogu said that so many times he couldn’t remember all the circumstances when it had been necessary. But okay. Whatever. 

There were lots of places that Din Djarin didn’t take Grogu with him. The obvious ones like the privy and the ‘fresher. The not so obvious ones like that one storage bay in the Razor Crest. Grogu had no idea what the Mandalorian had there, but Grogu was not allowed to follow him in there under any circumstance at all. Knowing how the Mandalorian felt about privacy and other things, Grogu expected that was place where he stored his vast supply of armor polish. 

The thing that really bugged Grogu about people thinking that the Mandalorian had really said that phrase was all the other times when Din should have had Grogu with him, but nope. He’d charged off on his own. 

Take that time they went after the Jawas on Arvala-7. Sure, Grogu had been following along in his floaty chair when the bounty hunter tried to take over the sand crawler, but he wasn’t with the Mandalorian to help with the Jawas. He could have used the Force to make them fall asleep if his protector had just explained what he was trying to do. He probably could have just stopped the thing like he’d stopped the mudhorn. Nope. He didn’t go with Mando then.

Or the time he and Cara Dune went to stop the Klatooinian raiders on Sorgan. Nope. Grogu wasn’t with him then either. He was in a barn with a bunch of kids who were very frightened. Sure, he tried to keep their spirits up and all that, but he wasn’t with Din Djarin then either. 

Or the time on Tatooine when the Mandalorian went off with that dumb kid… or when he took the job to break someone out of a prison ship… or… well, you get the picture. Din Djarin did not take Grogu everywhere all the time. He just didn’t. 

On the other hand, there were places that his dad brought him that he hadn’t been interested in at all. The ice cube planet… Maldo Kreis. No reason to go there. None at all. It was cold. Filled with spiders. No frogs what so ever. It was not nice. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.

Trask wasn’t great either. Grogu had already seen enough of the water the planet had to offer when Din crashed… eh… hand landed… uh whatever’d the Razor Crest. He certainly hadn’t volunteered to go fishing. He hadn’t known what a mamacore was, but it didn’t sound quite right. Grogu would have been happy to have just gone to a tavern and had a couple bowls of bone broth. He’d had all the frog eggs he’d cared to eat by then anyway.

Corvus was even worse. Smokey, burnt out, noisy… well… that was really his fault. Apparently the Mandalorian was finding his role as protector and adopted dad pretty tricky and was trying to give Grogu away to some Jedi he’d heard about. Grogu supposed that he could have left those eggs alone. He hadn’t really considered that the Mandalorian would want to abandon him over something like that, but everyone has their limit and eating delicious food too often appeared to be a line Grogu had crossed with the bounty hunter. 

Fortunately the Jedi they met rejected him and Grogu was pretty happy about that. He’d remembered Ahsoka, even if she hadn’t remembered him. They’d just bring out the worst in each other like they did at the Jedi Temple. She’d see his floating chair and assume he was Master Yoda and tell him things that he had no business knowing. He was just trying to stay away from the librarian and her pinchy fingers. Then Ahsoka would realize that she wasn’t talking to Master Yoda and get all snippy with Grogu because she made a mistake. She needed to learn to tell her sky guys apart from each other. 

Then there was that time on Tython. Uff. Tython. Grogu liked the flying there part. He even liked the whole ‘seeing stone’ thing. But why did Din Djarin think it was safe to just leave him on that stupid rock? Couldn’t he wait just five minutes? No. He’s a Mandalorian. He has to be brave and go wandering around and find trouble. After all the times Grogu had to wait for Din to get out of the privy, Din couldn’t just let him meditate to find another Jedi without getting bored? Grogu certainly didn’t go wherever his dad went that time.

So a piece of advice. When people say a thing, before you believe it, ask for receipts. Quiz them. Make sure they really know what they’re talking about. Don’t take it all at face value. Otherwise, you’re going to find yourself at Luke’s Jedi Sleep Away Camp before you know it. And you won’t be there with your dad, no matter what he said to that gangster at Carnita Arena. 

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #wherever I go he goes

[arts-dance]

An Alarmingly Deep Dive Into the Science of Baby Yoda We talked to eight actual scientists to find the answers. This is a cry for help. Popular Mechanics * Eric Spitznagel

There have been many famous babies throughout history: The Lindbergh Baby. The Gerber Baby. Baby Jessica. Rosemary’s Baby. But has there ever been a baby as universally loved and fawned over as Baby Yoda?

For all the joy that Baby Yoda brings us, he can also be confusing. And not because of the obvious questions, like whether Baby Yoda is the real Yoda. Obviously he’s not. The Mandalorian—the Disney+ original series that’s given us our favorite non-English-speaking Star Wars character since BB-8—is set between Return of the Jedi (when the O.G. Yoda dies) and The Force Awakens [this article was written in October 2020, just before the release of season 2].

It’s arguable that Baby Yoda could be the illegitimate love-child of Yoda and Yaddle, the lady Yoda from The Phantom Menace, and there’s been some scholarly speculation on that topic, including an investigative report with the refreshingly blunt title, “Did Yoda F**k?”

But whether the Yoda is Baby Yoda’s true daddy isn’t what fascinates us every time we tune into The Mandalorian. What keeps us coming back for more is trying to figure out what in the actual hell Baby Yoda is supposed to be.

So ... What Is Baby Yoda?

We know almost nothing about Baby Yoda, other than that he appears to be the same species as a famous Jedi Master with big ears and a bizarre linguistic quirk. But the details, and even the name of that species, remains a mystery. Even George Lucas has no idea. In a 2005 MovieFone interview, the guy who single-handedly invented the Star Wars universe admitted he’d “never really figured out where [Yoda] came from, what his species is called. It doesn’t even have a name. Maybe it’s somewhere but I don’t know what it is.”

Here’s what we do know about Baby Yoda: He’s almost unbearably cute, he can walk but spends most of his time in an egg-cradle, he naps a lot, he has put two frogs (as of this writing) in his mouth but never eats them, and he has at least enough control of the Force to briefly levitate a Mudhorn.

Baby Yoda, or “The Child” as he’s sometimes called, is 50 years old despite seeming, by all accounts, like an infant. Which isn’t all that crazy given the lifespan of his species. Yoda lived to the ripe old age of 900, when he was still mentally agile enough to sass Luke, telling his young apprentice that he’d never look as good in his old age.

But things get confusing when you try calculating Baby Yoda’s age in human years.

If the lifespan of Yodas are similar to humans, given certain lifestyle factors—regular exercise, not drinking or smoking, and maintaining a healthy weight—Baby Yoda could reasonably anticipate living anywhere from 72 (the average life expectancy) to 90 years. The original Yoda died at 900, and given his clean living and omnivore diet, we can guesstimate his death age at somewhere around 90 in human years.

Which means Baby Yoda, at 50, is the developmental equivalent of a five-year-old human child.

In many ways, Baby Yoda’s brain maturation is consistent with humans. He’s hit all of his motor milestones, like sitting up, crawling, and walking. He also seems in line with fine motor milestones like grasping small objects and eating. But he’s displaying a lot of behaviors that hint at cognitive delays.

“He likes to put things in his mouth, like small chrome knobs and frogs,” notes Duke University biologist Eric Spana. “The putting-all-the-things-in-your-mouth stage in humans is at about one year, plus or minus six months.”

It’s all perfectly normal—yes, even the frog-sucking—but by age three, most kids have stopped exploring their world orally.

“Developmentally, Baby Yoda seems like a human one-year-old,” Spana suggests.

He’s also noticeably behind in language comprehension. Baby babble is typical during the first 12 months, but some children may say their first words as early as nine months. By four years old, they should be speaking fluently in a way that even strangers can understand. Baby Yoda, by contrast, doesn’t seem to have advanced beyond cooing and baby gibberish.

The developmental lagging probably won’t last for long. If Baby Yoda matures in the same timetable as old-school Yoda, he should (according to the official record) became a Jedi Master at the age of 100—or, in human years, when he’s approximately 10 years old. Talk about a cognitive leap.

So what’s going on here? The first problem, according to evolutionary biologist Alan Cohen, is putting too much trust in the “dog years” multiplier for translating age between species.

“The rule of the rule of thumb that one human year is seven dog years is clearly not quite right,” Cohen says. “For example, after two years the dog is more like a 20-year-old human than a 14-year-old. Also, lifespan varies substantially across breeds, but there are many 12-to-14 year old dogs that display energy levels and vitality unthinkable for 84-to-98 year-old humans.”

👇 👇 👇 👇