#we love space dad mando

[pagesfromthevoid]

Your Kiss, My Cheek | d.d.

Din Djarin x princess!reader, Grogu x princess!reader (familial)

A Cowboy Like Me drabble

In which Grogu reflects on life with his princess and his dad

Word Count: ~770

Warnings: Nada

Author’s Note: You guys have one (1) more drabble after this before I drop part 13 and it’s glory. Enjoy the little semblance of information that you need for context

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

On Sorgan, Grogu sat with Wynta and the other children while listening to Omera tell a story. He wasn’t sure how much longer his father would be gone, or where his princess was. Grogu knew she was taken by someone, and he understood that his dad needed to save her. Grogu missed her; dad was fantastic –caring, protective –and he loved him. But she was soft, and understanding. She let him explore and read to him. She held him when he was scared, kissed his cheeks and promised to keep him safe. Grogu liked his princess almost as much as he liked his dad. 

But his princess was gone, and so was his dad. 

He just didn’t know where they went. But he knew that his dad wouldn’t leave him alone unless there was no choice.

His dad was good like that. 

While Wynta whispered something to him –something about his princess and how she caught a frog the other day – Grogu was thinking about what was going to happen to her and his dad. He had left in such a hurry, and it had been nearly a week since his dad had left. Grogu wondered what was happening. 

“Mando’s back!”

Omera looked up from the children, then to Grogu. He had turned to the voice of one of the cart drivers, who was running into the camp. Omera stood and scooped him up, and Grogu felt relief as he saw their ship break through the trees. It was a fast rescue mission, then. Dad and his princess would be home and while the three of them would have to leave again most likely, he was fine with that –because at least they were together. 

Several of the villagers, along with him and Omera, hurried through the forest to greet him. But when they arrived, and the hatch to the ship lowered, only his dad came into view. Grogu wondered if she was just in the bunk, resting or recovering, but when his dad took him from Omera’s arms –Grogu knew there was something wrong.

“Where is she, Mando?” Omera asked, looking up at him with a deep frown. 

“She’s safe,” he confirmed, looking down at Grogu now. He knew when his dad was upset, or angry. Could feel it, even when he couldn’t see his face. “I have to take the child back with me.”

Grogu looked up at his dad now, blinking up at him in confusion.

“Is that safe?”

“There’s no other choice,” his dad countered, looking back at Omera now. “Calisto intends to use her to bring Grogu to Gideon. I can’t let that happen.” Grogu reached up to touch his dad’s chest plate, trying to get his attention. But he just shook his head. “It’s going to be fine, kid. Don’t worry. We’ll keep you safe and get her back.”

Grogu tilted his head to the side, frowning some as his dad loaded him up onto the ship.

Within the hour, the two were trekking back through space, off to save their princess. His dad had been quiet the entire time and Grogu tried to get his attention, using the Force to pull his toy from the shifter. But his father snatched it back, looking down at him and shaking his head. Grogu grumbled in response, trying again.

“Kid,” dad said, turning to face him. “I need you to stop. I need you to just…just please stop.”

Grogu stared at his dad, eyes wide with surprise. He had heard his dad sound so many ways; feel so many things. Angry, terrifying, defeated, vengeful. But this…this was new. This was fear. And he had never heard his father sound so scared before.

Whoever had his princess was scaring him. And Grogu didn’t like that.

After a moment of staring at each other, his dad pulled him into his lap and sighed. Grogu looked up at him, then back out the window.

“I’m going to marry her when we save her,” his dad explained, leaning back in his seat. Grogu hummed, tilting his head once more. “I asked her to. We’re gonna be a clan of three soon.”

Grogu had interacted with lots of people that his father cared about. Peli and her droids that ran around and let him chase them. Cara and Karga, both who made sure that dad was taking care of him whenever they visited. Of course, there was Omera and her people who Grogu loved. But his dad didn’t love any of them like he loved his princess.

Their princess.

His mom.

———

Taglist (CLOSED): @r4iner @sgt-morgan @mingeniee @darling1darling @teriolan-blog @venusfalling @double—take @sunshine96 @demisexuallover @mxtokko @ellesvoid @waddafaknik @c-ms1ut @kokoirne @sl-ut @munsons-queen @intense-sneezing @geekrenaissance @dancealongthelightofday @tizylish @ruleroftides @aheadfullofsteverogers

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #mando x reader

[danaewrites]

Helmet Over Heels

part i: the winter of our discontent

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.8k

summary:  When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives. 

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

hello and welcome to my first ever mando fic!! i binged the entirety of the first two seasons in a week to get me through tedious internship work and accidentally fell in love with our favorite space dad and his cute green child along the way. oops (i regret nothing)

with the outline i currently have for this fic, it’ll be around 11-12 chapters, although that’s likely to grow as we get deeper into the story. the posting schedule might be anywhere from once a week to once a month, but this wip *will* be finished.

the second chapter's scheduled to upload next week as a little treat for y'all, so if you want to catch it then hit that follow button or ask to be added to my taglist! ;)

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv coming soon!

You watched the last of tonight’s drunken patrons stumble out of the cantina and into the bitter Nath night with a relieved sigh. Wiping your hands on the stained apron tied around your waist, you fished a set of bronze keys out of a tiny pocket and began your nightly walk around the perimeter of the bar, locking doors and pulling down rusty shutters as you went. The cantina was silent aside from your quiet shuffling– a welcome reprieve from its usual crowded bustle and chatter so hectic you could barely hear your own thoughts. 

You hummed softly as you adjusted booths back to their original positions and swept crumbs off of battered tabletops, wishing that the small holospeaker at the edge of the room hadn’t been broken in a recent bar fight. Swaying to its pre-Imperial oldies throughout your long, exhausting shifts had been one of the only perks of working in this run-down cantina, but without the soothing ambience of music, a chill threatened to sink into your bones and paralyze you with the deep depression this side of the planet seemed to have succumbed to.

You never planned to stay here for as long as you had. No one really did, except for criminals who knew that no one would willingly come here to search for them and locals who had never known anything else. Nath might have been charming, once– all soft snowflakes and peaceful walks under sepia-toned streetlights– but that was before the Empire had destroyed every semblance of comfort and culture and replaced them with brutalist brick structures that were already crumbling under the weight of their makers’ crimes. The fear lingered long after the Imps had finally left the post, reflected in the sad eyes of the fishmongers’ children and the way one would be hard-pressed to find a factory worker who didn’t spend his nights nursing a bottle and the ghosts of blaster scars across his back.

You had your own scars, of course, but you still held out hope that things would change and you’d make it out of here– although that hope was gradually diminishing as off-world shuttles visited less and less frequently and the permanent winter worsened. Five years ago, you’d been unceremoniously dropped off at the town’s dingy port, forced to land after your shuttle to Corellia was damaged by an unexpected detour through an asteroid field. You’d taken the cantina job thinking you’d only stay long enough to pay for passage on an outgoing ship, but soon learned that any shuttle risking the terrible weather to land here would also charge an exorbitant boarding price– one that would take you years to afford with the meager pay you received. And your tentative plan of stowing away on a spice freighter and sneaking off once it arrived at its destination (you weren’t picky about where, so long as it wasn’t Nath) was tempered by the increasingly likelihood that you’d get blown to pieces the minute you entered space by one of the pirate gangs that ruled the atmosphere these days. So– you were stuck here, at least for now.

The smell of something burning in the back of the cantina drew you out of your thoughts. Cursing, you raced to the kitchen, where your dinner was quickly blackening on the stove. Kriff. You shut off the burner, staring at the charred mess before you for a few seconds before dejectedly scraping it into an almost-overflowing trash bin. Well, there went your plan to eat quickly and head to your tiny flat before the storm outside worsened. Your rental pod had barely enough space for your bed and a miniscule bathroom, so you had to use the cantina kitchen if you wanted to stay fed– but the stove here was so old, it took half an hour longer than usual to cook anything. You resigned yourself to another night sleeping in a booth, since the flurry outside would prevent you from navigating your way home safely. 

You sliced up a few vegetables and set them to simmer in a pot with the last of the herbed broth and sandseed noodles from today’s lunch special, glancing at the bin next to you. It was probably a good idea to take out the foul-smelling waste before you were sealed in next to it all night. Wrinkling your nose at the unappealing scraps of food threatening to fall off the top of the pile, you hefted the bin up and maneuvered it through the back door of the cantina, being careful not to stain your apron any more than it already was. The harsh winds nipped at every sliver of exposed skin and dusted your hair with a pearlescent sheen of snow, making you wish you’d thought to slip on something warmer than your thin blouse and trousers before leaving the protection of the kitchen.

You navigated through the blizzard to the end of the dark alleyway behind the cantina, your path lit only by two buzzing lamps at each end of the narrow corridor. You scrunched your face up against the cold, willing yourself to keep walking despite your extremely limited night vision. Just a few more steps, and then you’d be free of your compostable burden for the night. You turned the corner, stepping to the left where you knew the trash compactor was, and immediately collided with a giant hunk of metal.

Said hunk of metal cursed loudly as it stumbled head-first over the garbage bin you’d dropped in shock after the impact, falling forward into the snow. “Dank ferrik!” 

Your eyes grew wide as the glow of the flickering streetlights illuminated the very-much-alive Mandalorian lying in front of you. It was just your luck that you’d managed to potentially injure the kind of warrior you’d only heard about in hushed rumors, or at least someone who was wearing the armor of one. Okay, injure was a strong word, but all that cold, hard beskar couldn’t be very comfortable to fall on despite the protection it offered. 

“Stars, I’m so sorry, let me–” 

You reached forward, stretching out a hand to help the Mandalorian up when a small green head suddenly popped up out of a tawny bag slung across their side. You yelped in surprise, losing your balance on the icy road and toppling forward. You winced, bracing yourself and preparing for the inevitable impact– except right as you were about to hit the ground, one steel-clad arm shot out to grab your wrist while the other steadied your hips. You gasped at the warmth of the unexpected contact, pulse quickening as you stared at the–man? person?–beneath you, the only thing preventing you from a nasty collection of bruises appearing across your side tomorrow. 

A deep baritone sounded from the helmet– likely modulated, from the slightly grainy tone. “Are you alright?”

Definitely a man, then. You pointedly ignored the butterflies that stirred to life in your stomach at the sound of his voice, praying that he would attribute your shiver to the cold and nothing more. Stars, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute. You tucked away the thought, making a note to do some serious soul-searching later on about the depth of your touch-starvation and its potential impact on your mental state. 

You gave a quick nod, muttering your thanks and carefully rolling to the side as you dusted clumps of snow off of your trousers. You looked up at him to see him gently picking up the little green creature you’d been so startled by earlier and tucking it back into the bag, pulling his cloak over its head to shield it from the chill. That was… rather cute, actually. You thought Mandalorians were supposed to be scary fighters, dedicated to nothing but their Creed, but this one was clearly fond of the small thing clinging to him. You couldn’t blame him; the green creature’s big ears and bug eyes were adorably endearing. 

The cold winds picked up pace, and you wondered why anyone would be out here during such a storm as you got to your feet. Anyone local would have sought shelter hours ago, and no freighter would dare to land in such conditions. 

“Are you... lost?” You tentatively asked. “Can I help you find someone?”

The Mandalorian remained silent for several long seconds, helmet tilted slightly. Whatever he saw in your face seemed to have settled well with him, and he released a quiet huff through the modulator.

“I need to get food. For my son,” he eventually admitted, gesturing to the baby peeking up at you. 

“Oh!” You brightened up considerably as you remembered the flavorful soup you’d started earlier. “Well– I work in a cantina back there,” you said, pointing behind you at the rusted door that led to the kitchen.

“We’re technically closed right now, but I’m sure I can work something out.” You winked at the curious child, smiling as he let out a happy babble. 

The Mandalorian’s helmet hadn’t moved from its focus in your direction, and you suddenly felt nervous. Which seemed stupid, because–yeah, it felt intense, but was he even looking at you from behind the dark visor of his helmet? For all you knew, he was making the most ridiculous expression at you behind all that beskar and you’d never know. The absurd thought made you snicker softly. If no one could see your face, you’d definitely act goofy at people all the time.

The Mandalorian’s head tilted slightly, and whoops, he’d definitely noticed your little moment now if he hadn’t been paying attention before. Your face reddened and you quickly gestured for him to follow you as you unlocked the door to the kitchen, relieved when you heard the soft clink of his armor come through the doorway behind you.

You placed your hands on your hips, surveying the dimly lit cantina and deciding to lead the duo to a worn table close to the bar. It looked unassuming, but the chairs were the comfiest in the cantina and you figured the baby would appreciate something softer than the coarse bag he’d been in. 

Once they’d gotten settled in, you set about finding a mug of blue milk for the kid and some water for the Mandalorian. You brought the drinks over to the pair, hiding a smile at how eagerly the little green baby reached for his. 

“You’re pretty thirsty, huh?” You observed as the baby slurped up the cerulean beverage. Shooting the tall, beskar-clad man a glance out of the corner of your eye, you continued, “Must have been quite the trip. Most people don’t usually travel to this side of the galaxy for vacation.”

To your disappointment, the Mandalorian remained as still and stoic as ever. Well, that just wouldn’t do. He was your first visitor in years from anywhere outside of Nath, and you were absolutely not letting him leave without getting a bit of juicy detail on life outside of your current drudgery. You decided to go for another angle.

“You know, kids need good role models in their lives. Ones that show them how to socialize with others and communicate. Display generosity of the loquacious sort, even.” You shrugged innocently in your best attempt to mimic the overly casual air the old women at the tea shop always used before passive-aggressively attempting to set you up with their stay-at-home-nephews. “Never too late to start.”

You got the distinct feeling that he was laughing at you under that helmet. Rude. Huffing, you sat down across the table from him and crossed your arms, trying to guess where under his visor his eyes were. Once you were half-confident that you’d found the spot, you stared intensely at it with your most intimidating expression. Which wasn’t saying much, seeing as you had the firepower of a soggy Lothkitten and probably came off as more desperate than anything. 

“Isn’t there some sort of honor code for Mandalorians? One that includes being noble to strangers and whatnot?” 

No response. Argh. 

“Well, I’d consider it pretty noble to provide a lonely soul such as myself with a bit of storytelling entertainment on this frigid evenin–”

Your final attempt at prying some information out of the armored man was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen timer beeping increasingly louder and louder until you were sure the whole cantina was vibrating with the tinny noise.

“KRIFF, not again!” 

You bolted out of your seat towards the kitchen, but not before you heard a thinly disguised huff of amusement coming out of the modulator. Okay, he was definitely laughing at you. 

Once you’d successfully saved the soup from imminent destruction-via-cursed-stove and somewhat regained your pride, you finally made your way back to the table with three steaming bowls of noodles. You placed the smallest one in front of the child, who cooed happily and immediately began plopping his hands in the bowl. The Mandalorian huffed in exasperation and began prying little green fingers out of the bowl. “Hey. Quit that, we talked about this,” he grumbled. You winced as broth sloshed out of the bowl, landing dangerously close to the baby’s tunic. The kid’s lower lip started to tremble, a blaring warning sign that a tantrum was going to occur in approximately ten seconds if he wasn’t distracted from his current petulant state. 

“Oh– hey, bug, don’t do that,” you said as both father and son turned to look at you. You leaned closer to the wide-eyed baby and pointed to his bowl. “That’s pretty hard to scoop up, yeah? Look, there are easier ways to eat it,” you explained as you brought the bowl up to your lips and raised an eyebrow, hoping that he would do the same. The kid blinked up at you for several long seconds before turning to his father with outstretched hands. The Mandalorian sighed, but held up the dish as requested. You hid a smile behind your bowl at the sight.

“Good job! Okay, now we’re going to try something fun–” You mimed slurping up the soup with a silly face at the baby, who burbled something incomprehensible in response but finally followed your example and focused on his food.

When you were sure that the baby’s clothes were no longer in danger of being drenched by broth– and by extension, frozen stiff whenever the pair headed back into the storm–you quietly tucked into your own meal, closing your eyes at the warm memories the comforting flavours brought. Not for the first time, you missed the earthy smell and placid weather of your homeworld, a stark contrast to this icy prison of a planet. 

“You are… good with him.” 

Your eyes darted up to find the Mandalorian’s helmet angled directly at you. Your face heated at the observation and you gave a small laugh, willing yourself to resist fidgeting under his gaze.

“I– thank you, I’ve always liked kids. Used to volunteer in the nursery back home, actually, before the Empire stole every resource from it they could.” 

Your eyes widened with sudden realization. “You’re not Imperial, are you?”

The Mandalorian scoffed vehemently, the most emotion he’d displayed since he’d fallen back in the alley. “No.”

Well, that answered a few questions at least. You were prepared to move on from the conversation when he hesitantly spoke, “My ship ran into a few… asteroids. Is there a mechanic nearby?”

You set down your spoon, thinking. The closest asteroid field was four solar systems away and almost entirely inaccessible if one was traveling through hyperspace, so the likelihood that he’d truly run into one was small. In that case, he probably had damage from some kind of fight— seeing as the average pacifist wouldn’t need that much armor— and would want someone reliable who wasn’t going to ask questions about laser-sized holes in his ship’s hull.

He hadn’t tried to kill or rob you yet, so you figured his personal tussles were none of your business and decided to give him an honest recommendation. You directed him to a small mechanical hub close to the ice huts where there were few ships and even fewer nosy citizens. “The owner, Sanna, is the best in town,” you admitted. “I haven’t had the chance to visit her personally, but she’s known for being very discreet.”

He nodded, entering the coordinates you’d given him into some sort of device on his wrist. You tried to contain your pleased expression at correctly guessing his reason for being on Nath. And it had only taken you… well, four tries, but that was better than nothing! 

“What is your price?”

You blinked, confused. “My price?”

There was that increasingly frequent head tilt again. His helmet tipped forward, scanning you. “For the food. And information.” He clarified slowly. 

“Oh,” you spoke, surprised. “It’s okay, I was making dinner for myself anyway. And you’d have found out the location of the mechanic from someone else eventually,” you shrugged. 

You couldn’t see his face, but from the disbelieving tone of his voice you imagined his eyebrows to be raised. “Not many people would turn down credits.” 

You winced, reminded of your costly dream to get off-world, but there was no way you’d accept this stranger’s money for such a small favor when he had a kid he needed to provide for. “Yeah, well. Guess I’m not most people,” you laughed sheepishly. 

The Mandalorian muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like no, you definitely are not. You squinted at him accusingly.

“Hey, you better not be making fun of my interrogation tactics, metal man.” You leaned forward to poke his soup bowl emphatically. Hm, that was strange– he hadn’t so much as touched it. Did Mandalorians follow some kind of special diet? You resolved to look that up the next time you had access to a datapad.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing that to a lonely soul like yourself.” He responded dryly.

You gasped in mock offense, forgetting your previous train of thought and internally groaning that he’d remembered that part of your disastrous attempt to weasel information out of him. Yeesh. Not your most eloquent moment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared,” you shot back in the most syrupy-sweet tone you could muster.

The kid grinned up at you with sharp teeth and blew a soupy bubble towards your face in response. You smiled down at him, adding, “But if you really want to repay me, then bring me back a good story about this little guy the next time you crash land through a— what did you call it? Asteroid field.” You highly doubted the duo would ever willingly return, but if making a deal gave this man peace of mind to know his imaginary debt was settled in some future way then so be it. 

The lights in the cantina began to flicker and you got up with a frown, walking over to the electrical box behind the bar. The dull grey display, crammed with incomprehensibly labelled switches and flashing lights that would give anyone a headache, alerted you that the main generator had been depleted of power. You scrambled over to a window, prying open the shutters a crack only to be met with a dark swirl of snow that completely obscured your view of the street. Stars, the storm had worsened quickly— there was absolutely no chance you were making it home tonight. You slammed the shutter closed and turned around with a grimace that didn’t go unnoticed by the Mandalorian.

“What is it?” He questioned, modulated voice growing wary at the expression on your face.

“We’re running out of power, the main generator’s down from the storm so these lights are going to have to shut off soon. I think there’s enough in the emergency generator to heat the cantina through the night, though.” You hesitated, not sure how to break the bad news. “Unfortunately, the weather is— unmanageable. You’re not making it out of here to the mechanic’s until the blizzard lets up.” 

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, so you continued talking. “I was.. planning on sleeping here tonight.” You muttered, trying to think of a plan. You glanced at the sleepy child resting on the Mandalorian’s beskar chest plate. “I usually keep a couple blankets here for that reason— pretty sure there’s enough to cover the baby, but you might need to be okay with sharing.” 

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, searching your memory for where the emergency supplies were kept. Kriff. How were you supposed to know that you’d be snowed in, and with guests no less? Your grumpy boss really should have put instructions for this type of situation in the closing shift directions instead of the usual “sweep the floors” or your personal favorite: “if the customer creates a corpse, they gotta clean it up themselves”.

The Mandalorian interrupted your musings with a firm, “No need,” gesturing to the charcoal cloak fastened around his pauldrons. You eyed it dubiously, but supposed that the material looked thick enough. That was probably to your benefit, anyway, since you were something of a notorious blanket hog and didn’t think he’d take kindly to having his sheets ripped off him in the dead of night. That seemed like a quick way to wake up with more bruises than you went to sleep with.

“Well— alright then,” you sighed at last, tossing the smaller of your blankets to the man and tucking the other into the side of a nearby booth. “I’ll shut off the lights in a moment. Refresher’s that way, if you need it,” you pointed to the end of a dimly lit hall. The Mandalorian nodded once, then returned his attention to carefully cocooning the child in his lap. You set to work fluffing up your own makeshift bed, folding the cleanest dishtowel you could find into a pillow before trudging over to the light switch and enveloping the room in darkness. 

Quietly feeling your way back to your booth, your eyes adjusted to the pitch-black little by little. You pulled your hair out of its messy updo and curled up on the seat, body slowly relaxing. It was strange, hearing the muffled rhythm of breaths coming from lungs that weren’t your own, but oddly soothing in its own way. 

“G’night,” you mumbled, half-asleep already, consciousness swirled down the psychological drain by the overpowering storm raging outside. The lull-and-hitch of the baby’s soft snores echoing off of solid beskar set you drifting off to sleep faster than you had as a child, so lost to the world that you were sure you dreamed the quiet, belated whisper that sounded back to you.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl

comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

read on: part ii, part iii, more coming soon!

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din grogu #grogu #baby yoda #clan of two #the mandalorian #the mandolarian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fic #din djarin fluff #din djarin angst #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fandom #fem reader #reader insert #friends to lovers #slow burn #strangers to friends to lovers

[curlytheintrovert]

In honor of Mando Eve I’m gonna go ahead and regurgitate my fave ooey gooey Dadalorian moments:

My Favorite SoftDad Din Moments

Sticks out his finger to Grogu within 2.5 seconds of meeting him.

Kicks Grogu’s pod away when he’s in danger, very shortly after knowing eachother.

Trying to be subtle, and totally failing, when he asks both the Client and Karga what they’re gonna do with Grogu.

Stormtrooper roughly grabs Grogu’s pod: “Easy with that.”

“No. I don’t want that thing anywhere near him.”

Drops silver ball into Grogu’s hand after previously telling him it wasn’t a toy.

“If you put one mark on him there’s no place you will be able to hide from me.”

Din frantically reaching out for Grogu as he runs to him on Tatooine.

Bends down on his knee to get on Grogu’s level.

The desperate “No!” when Grogu is yeeted into the mamacore’s mouth.

Worriedly fusses with Grogu’s tunic after he’s ripped out his pod after being rescued.

The pure, gentle way he says Grogu’s name when he finally hears it from Ahsoka, like it’s the most precious name he’s ever spoken.

Holds Grogu close, strokes his hand and stares at him like he’s the only thing in the universe.

“Okay I’m gonna protect you. Just stay there, I’ll be back soon.”

Sadly grabs Grogu’s silver ball out of the ashes of the Razor Crest.

“He is my only priority.”

“He means more to me than you will ever know.”

Uses his entire body to shield Grogu when Gideon attempts to shoot him.

Closes eyes in softboi as Grogu gently caresses his face.

“Don’t be afraid.”

The tear in his eyes as he watches his son get carried away in Luke’s arms.

The affectionate back pats when Grogu jumps into his arms in BOBF.

The softest, nearly inaudible chuckle when Grogu coos and strokes his helmet.

How damn quickly protective dad mode is switched on as he activates his jet pack and rescues Grogu.

Sleepily lets Grogu snuggle into his arms on the N-1.

Gently teaching Grogu to be a Mandalorian, which makes him speak more than ever before.

Taking Grogu with him in the N-1 through the air battle with the pirates cause they’re that attached to each other.

And the GOAT: “Wherever I go, he goes.” ❤️

I need help…this stuff takes up more space in my sappy brain than most romances! And it 100% explains why we all love this space cowboy dad the way we do. Din is kinda perfect.

#the best dad in the galaxy #why the hell do I love this man the way I do #din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #mandalorian and grogu #mando and grogu #soft boi #pedro pascal #I’m clearly obsessed #din and grogu #baby grogu #the mandolorian #mando season 3 #i love pedro pascal

[trixree]

On season 2 of Star Wars Rebels for the very first time. Here are my very important and original takes:

Hera is Mother.

Kanan is the dad with Baggage who doesn't quite know how to Bond with his Boy but he's trying really hard!! He's trying SO hard!!! (It's really hard to watch)

Kanan is probably always asking Ezra if he wants to play ball out back. No Kanan, he wants to shoot guns and steal a tie fighter. He does not want to toss around the ball with you.

Zeb, Ezra, and Chopper have the vibes of a trio of brothers that operate under Gallagher rules. Their space tiktoks are probably fucking insufferable. Nothing but prank videos all around. Chopper's pranks are all questionably legal

Sabine is their cool lesbian sister of the family. I want the world for her. Everytime she's in a combat scene I shout "MANDOS CARRY" at my partner until we both devolve into chanting it

Chopper has killed for sport and enjoyed it. He will kill again

Rex is the fun uncle that tells Ezra all the graphic Clone War stories he wants and let's him try a sip of his space moonshine because he thinks it will be funny when Ezra does a violent spit-take. (He's right and it's hilarious).

Hera LOVES Rex, he reminds her of her childhood in a Good Way, and this gives Kanan hives because of his Trauma. He is always spying on them in painfully obvious ways when all they're doing is like. Playing that holochess thingie and shooting the shit about the Clone Wars.

I know Maul shows up eventually and I am so fucking excited for what he is going to add to this dynamic

#trixree speaks #trixree watches Rebels #star wars rebels #sw rebels #this is my first watch of the series #getting caught up before Ahsoka

[wheresarizona]

An Adorably Sweet Man

summary: You both clearly had feelings for each other. It’s just a little surprising Din is the first to break.

rating: M (non-explicit smut, soft!Din Djarin, brothels, talk about sex workers (we are respectful in this house) love confessions, kissing, feelings, fluff.)

pairing: Din Djarin/f!reader

word count: 1900+

a/n: A fic for my follower celebration for my dear friend, @dresupi. She asked for space dad fluff with the prompt, “I love you, and it terrifies me.” Shoutout to @juletheghoul and @invisibleismyname for the beta! Love you guys.

Masterlist

Mando had taken you in as a crewmember on his ancient, pre-Empire assault ship, to do maintenance and, on occasion, watch over his tiny green alien son when he was bounty hunting. The thing was, he didn’t actually need you for the maintenance. The man knew how to take care of his giant relic, sturdier than the newer starships, that he’d kept in pretty good condition. It was just happenstance that while he’d been docked in your boss’s hangar and you’d been doing the routine diagnostics, you’d found one issue of a couple of lines in the wrong spots that were hindering fuel intake a minuscule amount, and you’d corrected it, but he’d thought it was the greatest catch and offered you the job.

At least that’s what he’d made your boss believe. In reality, you had found that minor issue, but his kid was force sensitive, and you were force sensitive, and the little guy would not leave without you. He made you see through the force his time with his father, showing you he was a good man, trying to do his best by Grogu and keep him safe, and when you’d tried to explain that you weren’t a Jedi, that you didn’t have a lightsaber, and only knew very basic things taught to toddlers because that’s how old you’d been when the order fell, Grogu had basically communicated same.

And that was how it all began.

You traveled with Mando, whose face you hadn’t seen and who spoke very little, and Grogu, who made sure his face was the first thing you saw in the morning and liked to share things through the force all the time (his top two topics were food, and his dad).

Then things got… complicated.

Because Grogu had been right about his father being a good man, but you’d learned over time that he was truly amazing.

It took some time, breaking down those durasteel walls of his, and he’d slowly opened up to you, showed you little pieces of himself, until the reveal of his name, that made you feel like you knew the galaxy's greatest secret.

Din was a sweetheart.

The kind of man who showed affection through acts of service, doing little things to make your life a little easier and help you out, and also buying you trinkets to make you smile. He did things that showed you meant something to him, that he cared about you, and then one day, he came back from buying supplies, and had somehow found your favorite candy from a planet on the other side of the galaxy, and you’d hugged him.

It was like a dam broke because once he had permission to touch you, his hands were on you whenever he was near—respectfully, of course, never doing anything untoward, even if you wanted him to touch you like that, and thought extensively about what the situation was like under that flight suit of his.

You both clearly had feelings for each other, but were both too cowardly to act on them and ruin the dynamic you’d developed.

The three of you were stopped on a quaint planet said to have some of the best pleasure houses in the galaxy, and Din Djarin, the smartest man you knew, hadn’t known what those were. He assumed the place had a bunch of nice inns, bringing you there to stay for the night and have a chance to sleep on the real bed. The thought had been sweet, and luckily Grogu had been sleeping in his hover pod, the top closed as you walked down the street, passing the mentioned houses, with transparisteel walls to see into rooms and the very pleasurable activities people were getting up to.

Din’s back had straightened when you walked past the first one, his helmet glancing before turning back forward. You, on the other hand, couldn’t keep your eyes away, taking in the different species doing many various acts.

“What’s the, uh, difference between these places and a brothel?” Din asked.

“Pleasure houses, the people working are doing it because they enjoy it and the money is a bonus. Brothels, the people are doing it for the money, and usually as a means to survive.”

“And the workers don’t enjoy it?” You could hear the frown in his voice.

“I’m sure they do sometimes! Depends on how caring their partner is. But it’s more of a job to them, and they work hard to earn their money, you know?” You rubbed his shoulder over the rough material of his cape. “I have no doubt that the lovely sex workers you’ve paid in the past had a wonderful time.”

“I hope so, too.”

You were impressed with the creativity of some of the couples, positions you weren’t even sure you were flexible enough to get into. There was also an orgy, that had a lot going on, between species you hadn’t known had compatible parts. It was entertaining and had you feeling hot under your clothes. One caught your attention, and you stopped in your tracks, watching in fascination as a human woman was on her knees, bent forward, with a man holding her arms behind her back, pounding into her from behind. You couldn’t hear the sounds, but from how their faces were screwed up in pleasure, you had an idea, and arousal pooled in your belly, imagining what it would be like to be in her place. What does beskar feel like against bare skin?

“Do they know we can see?”

Din’s voice made you jump, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Fuck!” You shouted, hand touching over your heart. “You scared me.”

“Scared or caught?”

You looked over at him, narrowing your eyes.

“I’ll have you know I am unashamed that I enjoy watching people have sex.” You looked back at the couple, tilting your head. “Maker, I just wish it were me.”

Coughing sounded from Din’s modulator, and your head turned towards him again.

“You okay?” You asked, patting his back over his cape.

“Yeah,” he wheezed. “Swallowed wrong.”

Your eyes moved back to the room, watching the man flip the woman easily, putting her legs on his shoulders, as he thrust into her.

“Happens to the best of us, buddy. You ever miss sex?”

You knew he wasn’t a virgin. You’d had to wheedle the information out of him because you’d been curious and nosey, finding out that before he’d taken in Grogu, he stopped at brothels on occasion, which made him not knowing what a pleasure house was amusing to you.

It was quiet for a moment.

“…Yes.” He finally answered.

“Me too. What I would give for someone else to make me orgasm.” You sighed wistfully as you turned away from the window, patting Din on the shoulder. “Come on, big guy, let’s go find an actual inn. I was told I’d be sleeping on a mattress tonight, and no matter how many pillows you buy me, the rack remains only slightly superior to the Crest’s floor.”

You started walking, Din following, his strides catching him up to you quickly, as Grogu’s pod followed beside you.

To your surprise, there was a non-pleasure inn, and the rooms were reasonably priced. Din got a two-bedroom suite so you each could have your own beds.

The place was decent enough and would suffice for your sleeping needs, the three of you in the adjoining living room.

“Is the kid awake?” Din asked, the first time he’d said anything to you since the window.

You felt for Grogu in the force, his signature calm and even, indicating he was sleeping.

“Still out cold,” you answered.

Din nodded once, moving the child into the room, and returning a minute later, shutting the door behind him.

He stood there for a minute watching you, and your eyebrow raised.

“Why are you staring?” You asked.

You saw his shoulders dip like he was letting out a breath, and he walked until he was standing in front of you, close enough that you could reach out and touch him.

“The people…” he started.

“The people having sex?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“What about them?”

“You… wished for it?”

“Well, yeah, don’t you?” You asked.

“I do.”

You felt an uncomfortable feeling form in your chest at the implication of his answer and his past history.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Did.. um, did you want me to watch Grogu while you go, you know, visit one of the establishments?”

“No,” he shook his head.

Your eyebrows creased. What was this conversation about?

“I don’t quite understand your train of thought,” you said.

He moved a little closer, his gloved hand cradling your cheek, and you leaned into the touch.

“I want you, cyar’ika,” he spoke softly.

Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes going wide.

“Me?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“What’s changed?” You asked. “Why now?”

He sighed.

“I didn’t like the thought of you with someone else.”

“So, you’re just jealous?”

“No. I’ve had feelings for you for a while, and I know you feel the same.”

“Well, obviously. But now, there’s an option of me paying for sex, and suddenly you want to be with me?”

“I was… scared.”

“Of what?”

You saw his chest move, hearing him take a deep breath.

“That I love you.”

Your eyes went wide again, eyebrows in your hairline.

“You love me?”

“I do. I love you, and it terrifies me.”

“Why does it terrify you?”

“The thought that you might not feel the same.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, his helmet tilting in confusion, and you imagined he was frowning under the bucket, feeling a bit bad, but the idea that you didn’t love him was hilarious. It took some seconds to finally calm down.

You put your hand over his on your face, your other moving to rest on his helmet.

“Din Djarin, you adorable, sweet man, I have loved you since the moment Grogu showed me through the force all of your best moments, loving and protecting him like he were your own flesh and blood, and my feelings have only grown as time has gone on. You have no reason to be scared. I love you, too.”

You’d thought you already knew the galaxy’s greatest secret by knowing Din Djarin’s name, but all of the pieces of him you’d gathered, loving one another without any idea of what was under the beskar, hadn’t prepared you for the last piece of the puzzle to slide into place, as his hand went to his helmet, pulling it off to reveal the face of the man you loved.

You were shocked, mouth falling open as you took in the soulful brown eyes and beaming smile, the way he had a dimple in his right cheek, and his dark hair a mess atop his head. He was gorgeous, a face the artisans on Naboo would carve into stone to immortalize, and only you got to see it.

His face slowly morphed into concern the longer you didn’t speak, until he broke the silence.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

His voice was even more attractive without the helmet, and there was a possibility you were going to combust.

“Yes!” You finally answered. “Sorry, a lot to take in. You tell a girl you love her, then break the creed you’ve followed your entire life in the span of five minutes, and it’s really just a rollercoaster of emotions.” You were rambling. “I loved you without knowing what was under that bucket, but I had not been prepared for how unfairly attractive you are. No wonder you wear the damn thing. People would be throwing themselves at you. Fuck, can I kiss you?”

He was smiling, cheeks pinking up.

“You can… I’ve just… uh…never.”

“Stop right there, babe. I will happily teach you in the ways of kissing… and more,” you winked.

He gulped.

“I’d like that.”

“And I want to see what else you're hiding under all that,” you said, pointing at his chest.

“You’ll soon find out,” he smirked.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pulling him close to you, slanting your mouth against his, kissing him hard and relishing in the surprised sound he’d made before he’d melted into you, his hands cupping your face, mimicking your movements. When you felt he had the basics down, you slid your tongue across his bottom lip, and he got the message, opening for you, swallowing his groan as you pushed in. He learned quickly, the two of you kissing deeply until breathing became a necessity, and you broke apart panting as you rested your foreheads together.

“I love you, Cyar’ika.”

“I love you, too, Din. Are you still scared?”

“No. I’m happy.”

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #din djarin #din djarin/reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #wheresarizona writes #wheresarizonas follower celebration

[prolix-yuy]

If the Moon Walks Out

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian's profession ushers in a harsh reality.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: M, descriptions of injuries, blood, and medical-ish procedures, allusions to sexual acts, PiV sex, fingering (f-receiving), hurt/comfort, angst but there's some good sweetness to balance it out. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: It's been a hot minute since we've checked in with our space family! I realized after pausing updates that I left the story in somewhat of a "season finale" state, so I'm embracing it and calling this new episode the beginning of Season 2. Time to buckle up our butts and hop back in space with my favorite space dad and his green baby!

Takes place the day after Soft Fires.

Cross-posted on AO3

I Think of You Series Masterlist

The strange insistence of your circadian rhythm wakes you inside the Razor Crest. Time has a fuzzy aspect in space, but you still manage to keep your schedule as regular as possible. Like now, as sleep recedes from your eyes and you stretch with a thin groan. Your legs and arms tighten and release, pleasant tension and relaxation working through your muscles. As you shift, thighs rubbing together, a tenderness at the apex rushes last night’s actions to the forefront.

(you finally fucked the Mandalorian)

(again)

A smile breaks out on your face that, even without an audience, you hide behind your hands. Rolling over to curl on your side, you bury your face in your pillow and stifle the burst of happiness under the covers.

(you are more beautiful than Basic can convey)

(careful Mando, or I might fall in love with you)

(would that be a bad thing?)

(no it karking would NOT)

Swinging out of your cubby bed, you pad to the kitchenette to make a pot of caf. You might say there was a spring in your step, and a smile unwilling to quit on your lips. Mando doesn’t seem to be up yet, but you’re sure he’ll be along soon.

Measuring out grounds and water, your mind keeps drifting back to your time in the cockpit.

Mando’s arms, bare around you after a moment of conflict.

His words, growled through the vocoder as he pumped inside you in waves of pleasure.

Two of the best orgasms of your life.

(the others were also at his hand, that night so long ago)

“Good morning,” comes the same voice you’d just been recalling, Mando standing tall behind you with the child waking slowly. His marble eyes blink blearily, but when he sees you standing in the Food Place he reaches out to be held. You snicker at him before taking him into your arms.

“Good morning Bean,” you coo, and he yawns and gives your thumb a firm grip. It always makes your heart clench a little, that anchoring touch. “And good morning to you too, Mando,” you add, turning up to look into the featureless visor.

(well)

(what do we do now?)

After the child went to bed, you stayed with Mando in the cockpit for a few hours more. Some of it was spent talking, explanations of the next couple bounties, when you’d be touching down, where. He told you a little more about how he and the child came to be a clan of two, the darker details coming forward. You listened, commented when silence indicated Mando wanted your opinion, and absorbed their history together.

(a clan of two)

(two plus one, now, you hope)

When sleep began to pull at your eyes, Mando lifted from his seat and cupped your cheek.

“Let’s put you to bed, Mesh’la,” he murmured, to which you smiled and shooed him away.

“Would rather not see how you intend to get me down the ladder,” you joked, giving him a long look. He was as ferocious and powerful as he’d always been, but the more time you spend together, the more you find the man behind the beskar. He was amused, but also relaxed, offering comfort. You’d take it any chance you get.

“Good night, Mando,” you said, and with a new boldness you wrapped him in your embrace. His arms circled around your back quicker than you thought, and that small act made you smile into his chestplate. His hug was sharp edges and firm muscle and the gentle expansion and contraction of breath.

“Good night, Mesh’la. Sweet dreams,” he returned, and you stumbled into bed half-drunk off his embrace.

Now, in the bright light of a new day, you wonder briefly if anything will change. If Mando will allow himself your touch, or if he’ll act like last night never happened. You hope not, but if past experiences dictate future ones, dealing with Mando’s emotions is a bit like trying to climb a mud-slicked mountain. Two steps forward, one slide back. Slow going, but a journey you would happily traverse.

Mando cocks his head at you, then steps into the kitchenette.

(Maker, he takes up so much space it’s suffocating having him in this small room)

The child is fixated on a bit of bread he probably hopes is for breakfast, so he doesn’t notice his caretakers’ locked gaze, or the way Mando slides one hand to your hip and around to splay on your lower back. With a gentle pull he fits you against his body and presses his own special kiss to your forehead. Butterflies explode in your stomach.

(no more guessing no more hoping this is real)

It’s brief but meaningful, a sign that Mando won’t be ignoring your affections any longer. It makes your heart skip several beats.

“Caf’s ready,” you squeak, spinning around quickly enough that the child’s ears flop dramatically. One-handed pouring cups for you both, Mando’s gaze is hot along your shoulders, the curve of your neck. Not lustful, but possessive, like a man who has finally let himself have something decadent and has no intention of giving it up.

He takes the cup with a quiet “thanks,” stroking his free hand along your back as he exits to the cockpit. Once he’s out of earshot you let out a shaky breath, waves of excitement and arousal and tension breaking along your coast. The child looks up with curiosity, squeezing your thumb a little firmer

“Everything’s fine, Bean,” you say, a smile almost cracking your face with joy. “More than fine, actually.”

“This should be quick,” Mando says as he slings his amban rifle over his shoulder, bandolier tightening with the additional artillery. You’re perched on a seat by the table, fingers quick on your datapad as you pull up something to keep you entertained. While the planet looks lush and some trees are heavy with fruit, Mando assured that you wouldn’t want anything that thrives here.

“This region cultivates many poisonous plants. Creatures too. Stay inside with the kid.” He takes in the child’s downturned ears and runs his thumb and forefinger over the ridge of one. “Next time we’re somewhere safe you can go exploring.”

“C’mon Bean, don’t you enjoy my company?” you tease, earning the tiny-green-baby equivalent of a begrudging shrug. It would have made you laugh if you weren’t pretending to act offended.

“How could you say such a thing! When I’ve been nothing but patient with your needs!” A staticy chuckle warms your skin as you throw out one of the few hand signals you knew from the Tuskens who traded on the outskirts of Tatooine: ungrateful, a hand cupped and pulled towards your chest, then turned to the ground. Accepting water and throwing it away. The child’s bottomless eyes lock on your hands, ears perking up as you lean on the crate.

“You like that, Bean? It’s a different way of talking. I’m not very good at it,” you huff, showing him the sign again. You’d seen it during a barter once, gleaning the meaning before asking your father what they were doing. There were a scant few others you knew, most of them to do with trade, but the child’s reaction was promising.

“You know the Tusken language?” Mando asks, startling you with his hovering at your shoulder.

(every time you think you know where he is, he gives you a karking heart attack)

“Just a little, we got traders in town every now and then,” you say, straightening up in your seat. “Had an idea a few days ago that it might be a good way to communicate. Since, you know, the talking thing hasn’t been going great.”

“I can teach him,” Mando says, making you lean back to look up at the helmet.

(Maker, he looks gorgeous from any angle)

“Where’d you pick that up?” you ask, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. Mando’s hands come up to his waist and make several complicated gestures. You hold yours up in protest.

“Woah, woah, I only know a few words!” you laugh, earning a squeal of delight from the child. Mando puts a hand on his hip, cocking his head at the two of you.

“The Dune Sea is easier if you can negotiate with the locals,” he says. You nod knowingly, leaning on your elbow as Mando picks up the last few items he needs for the hunt. “Languages are useful in my line of work.”

“Please tell me you know some Wookie,” you tease, and for a second you think Mando might actually indulge you before he shakes his head.

“Maybe later, Mesh’la. I’ve got to get moving.”

Nodding curtly, you pick up the child and move over to open the back ramp for Mando. He strides to the edge, standing side by side as the ramp lowers. You’ve stood in this spot a few times before, but today feels so much lighter. The child grips your shirt and pulls himself up to your cheek, his smaller, chubbier face now level with yours. The ramp thuds to earth as Mando turns to you both.

“Be safe,” you say, almost a force of habit by now. The child trills in response. You didn’t expect much from Mando, his leaving normally not accompanied by a farewell. A nod in your direction and a heavy saunter were your usual signals of departure. But like you felt before, the mood is different today. Instead, he tucks his forefinger under the child’s chin and strokes the roundness of his cheek. It makes him squinch up his eyes, but you swear you can see a smile on his wrinkled face.

“Stay out of trouble,” he says to the child, then turns his attention to you.

Heart thumping in your chest, you briefly imagine another Keldabe kiss. The few times he’s indulged you’d cherished, but never imagined it could become a habit. Now with him about to depart, you wonder what your goodbye could look like.

(would he want you to kiss him?)

Your answer comes in the form of his knuckle tucking under your chin, the soft leather of his glove swiping below the crest of your lower lip. He strokes a path to the back of your neck, cradling the base of your head in his expansive hand.

“You too,” he tries to say lightly, but there’s a thickness in his voice that explodes in your stomach. “You can be just as bad as him sometimes.” You snort at his teasing.

“Well, you’re the worst of us all,” you quip back, but lean into his touch. It takes him another moment before he lets go.

(yours your yours Mando)

With a curt nod he descents the ramp, shoulders and hips swaying a little more than normal. It blooms excitement in your chest.

Another day. Another bounty. Possibly another night of his touch ahead of you. The galaxy felt like a kinder place.

The hours tick by, not too dully at least. You started the day cleaning the hold, gathering yours and Mando’s clothing for a wash. It was slow going in the small ‘fresher sink, but you had time to spare and the child didn’t mind being entertained by stories and splashes. Grime and sometimes worrying rust-colored water washed down the sink as you moved the sopping cloth into the shower to dry.

“You know Bean, I think we need to convince your dad to invest in a few household appliances,” you hum thoughtfully, a reassuring trill answering. “Besides the sub-par cooking supplies, a wash system would be amazing.” The child burbles on your hip as you bounce back into the hold, going down your mental list of tasks you wanted to complete.

(clothing clean, supplies checked)

(need a shower, maybe a shave)

(you know, just in case)

Smiling to yourself, you start gathering your toiletries. The child never seemed to mind being cooped up in the 'fresher with you, though some days you do wonder how much of a child he really is. Hopefully the fogged-up transparisteel of the shower door is enough to protect his innocence.

(then again, leaving him to roam has not gone well)

You’re about to head into the ship when the comm in the cockpit pings. Climbing up to investigate, it only relays the distance Mando is from the Crest.

(unusual, he normally calls)

Fear prickles in your belly, but you try to shake it off in favor of pragmatism. The bounty could be rowdy, or heavy, and Mando may not be able to reach the vocal transmission controls. Descending, you open the back hatch and wait at the top of the ramp for his shape to gleam on the horizon.

It doesn’t take long, the beskar a beacon for the sunset to dance off. You watch his approach with the child in your elbow, shading your eyes against the glare. He’s trudging along, bounty slumped over his shoulder but seemingly conscious. It’s slow though, slower than you’re used to seeing Mando. As the distance closes, your heart spikes into panic.

(he’s limping)

It shouldn’t come as a shock to you that Mando could get injured on the job. The most dangerous moment of your life, trapped in the Lively Bantha as blaster bolts rang out around you, is a blip on his radar. From the stories you’d heard and the pieces you’d put together, you’re sure the map of Mando’s body is patterned in injuries.

This, however, is different. You’re here, and you’re terrified.

“Stay here Bean, I mean it,” you say sternly, placing the child on a crate in the hold. He makes a concerned “patu?” noise, which you try to soothe with a hand on his back.

“I’m not sure, I hope he’s okay. Stay here. Promise me,” you say, and for some hysterical reason you put out your pinky as if he’d even understand what that meant. He doesn’t have enough dexterity to wrap his littlest claw with yours, but he does grip it briefly before you rush back.

Mando and the barely conscious bounty, human by the looks of it, are approaching the base of the ramp. You barrel down it, coming to a stop in front of them both.

“Get back in the…” Mando tries to say, but a sharp inhale cuts him off before he can rebuke you further. Wordlessly, you slide under his free arm and give him a steadying push. Stepping in tandem, the three of you make it to the top of the ramp, and as if on autopilot Mando shoves the half-aware human into the carbonite chamber, slapping the button to initiate. The hiss of gas dissipates behind you as you pull Mando further into the hold.

“Kriff, Mando, what happened?” you pant, the stress of shouldering someone that much bulkier than you quickening your breath. Mando groans quietly, soft little pants coming through the vocoder as you sit him beside the child.

“Bounty was fine. Had a run-in with…something. Got bit.” Mando grits out, leaning heavily on his elbow to keep from toppling over.

(on a planet that houses the most poisonous species)

(oh Maker)

“Where?” you breathe, hands already starting to shake. Infection is bad, poison is worse, venom is…you can’t even fathom. He pats his outer thigh, another wince and a groan following.

“It was…a reptile. Fast. Red…I think.” Mando’s voice is starting to weaken, and terror seizes your body like a iron cage. The child is trilling at Mando, scrambling onto the table to be closer to his protector.

(no no no what the kriff are you supposed to do this cannot be happening Mando cannot be NO stupid girl don’t even think that he’s okay it’s going to be okay kriff what do you do?)

All at once the tension, the fear and the terror are doused in cool logic. Your father was the one who taught you to protect yourself, but your mother had teachings of her own. Adept in medicine, problem-solving and crisis, her voice now steels your spine.

(Daughter of mine, the first thing you must do is assess the damage)

Dropping to your knees, you inspect the spot on Mando’s thigh where he indicated the bite. Nothing looks the matter at first glance, but investigating closer reveals two ragged holes in the fabric of his flight suit, dark blood sticking it to his skin.

(Fangs most likely mean venom)

Heart thrumming, you work your finger into the hole and tense to rip it.

(sorry Mando, the Creed will have to take another small hit to keep you alive)

The taut tan flesh underneath quivers when you press near the wounds, hot and hard to to the touch. The pressure elicits a rough choking noise from Mando. It makes your skin prickle, but you surround the wound with your hands and squeeze.

Thick clotting blood oozes out, along with yellow ichor and something deep and dark.

(Venom, daughter. Bacta won’t be enough)

You squeeze again to be sure, making Mando’s fist come down hard on the table. A string of curse words in a language you don’t understand bursts through static, the child coming up to press his three-fingered hands on Mando’s vambrace. He chuckles, somehow, in the midst of all this.

“Don’t, kid, I’ve had worse,” he scolds the child.

“Stay with me Mando,” you shoot back, twisting around to retrieve your datapad. “How big was it?” Mando shakes his head, forcing focus.

“Four feet long, reptile, low to the ground, yellow eyes,” he spouts off as you type furiously. Turning the datapad to Mando, you press his thigh just a bit to snap his head to the image.

“Yeah, I think…kriff, looks like it,” he groans, doubling over. The child is louder now, squeaking and struggling against Mando’s hand holding him back.

“Breathe,” you direct, watching him try to take less shallow gasps. “Okay, venomous but not deadly. Painful, for sure. Antidote is…” Your fingers fly through the information, a strangely frilled leaf coming into view.

(You’ve seen that before, daughter)

“Thanks the karking Stars,” you shout, scrambling to your feet and tossing, “Stay there!” over your shoulder as you gallop down the ramp. Taking off at a sprint, you round the front of the Crest to find a wall of the same leaves, hanging so low they brush along its steel haunches. You had admired them through the transparisteel earlier in the day, wondering if they stayed that green their entire lives. They’re not quite in reach, but a few carefully judged steps up the landing gear and a lucky snatch has three of the dinner plate-sized leaves clutched in your hands.

(Hurry, dear girl)

Lungs and legs burning, you clamber up and into the hold again, skidding to a stop on your knees that will surely leave bruises.

“Macerate into paste…needs…what the kark is ‘subtle acid’?” you pant, tearing the leaves into smaller pieces.

(Chew)

Without a further thought you stuff the leaves into your mouth, chewing vigorously. The flavor is instant, strongly vegetal, bitter, but you let saliva pool in your mouth.

“Mesh’la…” Mando groans, followed by an anxious coo. Looking up, your clan of two are regarding you, on your knees with cheeks full of awful tasting leaves. Drool is dripping down your chin - there is some numbing chemical in the greenery, you’re losing feeling in your lips - and you’re sure you look a mess, but Mando still cups the side of your face. You shake your head, digging wads of the leaf paste out and into your palm.

“Save whatever you have to say for after I get this in you,” you scold, your voice only shaking a little as you pour water over the open wounds to clean them. The trickle of blood is weak, but the swelling and angry color does not bode well. Unceremoniously, you jam the paste into the wounds, ignoring Mando’s groans as you press and rub and work the paste in.

“Dank farrik, Mesh’la, I think it’s in there,” Mando squeezes out, fist clenching on the crate.

“When you’re not in danger I’ll listen to you,” you shoot back, and are rewarded with a dark chuckle.

(he can laugh, that’s a good sign)

Once the wounds are stuffed and slathered to bursting, you spit the rest of the bitter paste into a bowl, licking around your gums to dislodge any remaining bits. Your lips feel heavy and thick, tongue tingling and half numb. It’s hard to tell if you’re still drooling, but a few swipes along your face reassures you. The paste looks to be working, the deep green darkening to black and oozing out of the wound. You repack it two more times, much to Mando’s displeasure, but the angry redness is dissipating and the flesh is no longer hot. Throughout the process the child grips Mando’s vambrace, eyes locked on his visor as he makes tiny concerned coos. Mando murmurs to him, reassurances you remember from your own mother.

(All will be well soon, daughter. You did a fine job. I’m proud of you)

(miss you, mom)

An hour passes like this, few words actually spoken under your careful watch. When the final wad of salve oozes free without deadly black poison following you know the wound is drained. Next comes fresh water, a cloth gently washing away the mess from Mando’s thigh, and a bacta patch to close the wounds. You debated on stitches but the punctures looked small enough, clean enough, to take bacta well.

Sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor, you finally allow the adrenaline to seep from your limbs. Every muscle shrieks, your knees hot and aching, hands chafed raw. Amongst it all, you watch Mando carefully. He stands, testing the weight on his leg. He’ll carry a slight limp for a day, but you can tell the pain is manageable for him.

(he’s been through worse with less help)

The child chirps from the crate table, urging you to your feet. When you lift him he goes willingly, but holds his arms out to Mando with a whine. You smirk, but hand him over to his guardian.

“Hey kid,” he rumbles, propping the child on one arm to look at his concerned face. “You should be nicer to her, she took very good care of me.” Wrinkling your nose, you barely find the energy to huff a laugh at the gentle scold. The child looks back at you, ears downturned and reaching back one hand. His other is firmly wrapped around Mando’s thumb.

“Thankless job, saving your life,” you warble, more emotional than the joke you meant it to be. Mando meets you in the middle of your step, wrapping his free arm around your back and pulling you into his side. Tucking your head into his shoulder, he squeezes you tightly. The child grabs for your hand and you offer your thumb, but he takes your pinky in his tiny grip instead.

(good memory Bean)

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Mando murmurs above your head, the beskar pressing against your temple. It grounds you enough for a shaky breath.

“I forget this is your life,” you admit, fisting your hand into his cape as your clan of two holds you in such different ways.

Mando hums, stroking his hand up and down your back with long, slow passes. You press into his shoulder, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall now the work is done. “Are you okay, Mesh’la?”

“I’ll be fine, just…need to breathe,” you answer, and Mando lets you do that, just breathe in the tiny circle of the people you care most for in the galaxy.

(main thrusters, backup thrusters, directional…kriff, it looks the same as…oh okay, that’s the comms, and that’s the landing gear sequence…now where’s the…)

“Mesh’la?”

Mando’s voice startles you out of your deep concentration, once again cursing how quietly he can move around the ship.

“Hi, yes, sorry, do you need…sorry, I’ll…” you stammer, gathering the tattered manuals strewn across your lap as you shuffle out of the pilot’s seat. Through the heat of your embarrassment you catch Mando tilting his head at your clumsy shuffle, the armful of pages plopping down on the jump seat as you smile too brightly at him.

(why do you feel like you’ve been caught watching dirty holos? You were just sitting in the pilot’s seat)

(his seat)

Mando’s ankles are crossed one over the other, arms similarly folded against his chest. The dark T visor is trained on you, his observation making your hands restless.

“What are you reading?” he asks, nodding down at the manuals. You straighten, starkly self-conscious now that you’ve been caught in the act.

(will he think you a fool?)

“Well, after today, I just…I realized that I don’t know much about the Crest.” You swallow hard, the image of Mando’s body going limp in the hold pressing behind your eyes, “The biggest thing I’ve ever driven was a speeder but I found all of these manuals.” The top one is open to the page on the console buttons, and you scoop it back up to distract from Mando’s attention.

“This seemed like a good place to start,” you say cheerily, coming to stand in front of the console with its dimmed lights. “Power up sequence is…” you start, finding the tiny writing that details each step. Miming the button presses and level flicks, you count out the procedure.

“One, two, up, up, lift-case-press-once…” Turning your head to the switches above you, Mando’s silhouette is no longer in the doorway but standing behind the pilot seat, one hand resting on the back. His closeness tightens your posture, cheery smile on your face feeling more like a grimace.

“Four switches here, all in a row…” you murmur, reaching up to tap them in sequence. When you do, the cool air of the cockpit breezes against a sliver of skin on your stomach. It’s contrasted immediately with the heat of Mando’s gaze on it.

(no distractions, you have to learn)

“Then we’re on to takeoff procedures, so we’ll engage…” You’re interrupted with the warm weight of Mando’s hand circling your bicep.

“What’s this about?” he murmurs, but you pull free from his barely-there grasp with a tut.

“You’re going to make me lose my place,” you scold, taking a step out of his reach to lean over the console, but your hand shakes as you rest it on the thruster. “Thrusters to…thrusters…to…”

(Mando lying dead in a forest you could never reach)

(dead on a prison ship parsecs away)

(dead on a planet you don’t know the name of)

(dead dead dead dead)

His hands touch you with purpose now, shifting you to stand beside the pilot’s seat as he settles into it. Your grip on the manual is white-knuckled, your teeth clenched as you try to say anything, explain yourself, but Mando pays you no mind as he spreads his hands along the console.

“The manuals are a start, but the Crest has had better days,” he says, a dry smile in his tone. Your muscles begin to loosen, eyes locked on the Mandalorian as he speaks slow and carefully, his hands moving with purpose.

“Only one back thruster has an ignition spark, so you have to ignite the live one and use the exhaust manifold to light the other,” he says, walking you through each revised step of the Crest’s takeoff procedure. He pauses when he hears you furiously scratching notes, and goes over parts of it again when your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Once you’re out of the atmosphere there are a few steps to prepare for hyperspace, especially without an astromech…” Your lungs freeze at the thought.

(how the kriff are you going to compute hyperspace travel without a droid?)

(kriffing Mando and his Maker-damned brain)

(it’s one of the sexiest things about him)

“...but if you give me a few days I’ll write out the calculations for you,” he finishes, and the relief paired with the wave of arousal at how easy he makes it sound is a dizzying combination.

“Thank you,” you breathe, putting down the manual and wiping your sweaty palms on your pants. “Where’s Bean?” you ask, the little bogwing nowhere in sight.

“I gave him some jerky, he’s probably still working at it,” Mando replies, and finally a light chuckle bubbles from your lips.

(two baby teeth and a strip of jerky, you’ll have to save Bean from the torture)

“I’ll go check on him,” you say, turning to leave but Mando’s hand wraps around your wrist with a gentle tug.

(guess you’ll have to explain yourself now)

He guides you back to stand between his knees, thumbs stroking the backs of your hands.

“Would you tell me what you’re thinking?” he asks, and you’re struck by how often Mando surprises you. You expected an accusation, an interrogation, and then he only asks you to help him understand.

(Maker you can barely comprehend the care he offers you)

(is this what it’s like for him?)

“When you were…” You pause, trying to get more moisture in your mouth. Mando waits, helmet turned up to you in patient silence.

“When I thought you were dying, I realized I wouldn’t know what to do if you did. I - we rely on you so much. To pilot the Crest, to earn credits, to keep us safe, and if you were gone…” The words can’t come up for air, the devastation of that dread scorching your tongue.

“...I thought if I just read these and figured out the basics it would mean I could at least get us to safety. If you were in trouble I could find you. If it was just…Bean and I…I could still complete your mission…”

(Kark the mission)

(if Mando was gone, you’d be all that Bean had)

“Nothing will happen to me, Mesh’la,” Mando says, gentle assurance on the outskirts of that modulated voice. It makes you ball your hands into fists, gritting your teeth when you meet the visor’s stare.

“You don’t know that. You leave every time to risk your life and there’s no telling which time you’ll walk out and never come back.” Saying those fears out loud tightens your throat, the corners of your mouth pulling into a grimace as you fight against tears.

“I won’t allow that to happen,” Mando says more forcefully, his grip grounding. This close you can almost believe him. He’s impenetrable to most - beskar, strength, cunning, speed - but today only fattened up your fears.

(you’ll be alone)

“I can’t live like that, Mando, relying on you to not get bit, or shot, or killed. I can’t sit by and pretend you’ll always come back. I need to know how to fly, where to keep searching for the Jedi, how to find you if you’re lost or taken. I can’t just live on this ship until one day you’re gone.”

At the crack in your voice Mando surrounds you, pulling you down into his lap and letting you sob into the cool beskar. One hand cradles the back of your neck, his arm wrapped around your back to sink you deeper into him. The scent of dirt and warm fabric and blood envelops you, comforting as it is terrifying.

(you could have lost him today)

“I’m sorry, Mesh’la, I know,” Mando soothes, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles behind your ear. “This was a bad one. I have you to thank for stopping it from being far worse.” Mando pulls away enough to cup your chin in his soft gloved hand. “I will do everything in my power to stay safe…” He sighs, the truth on his lips. “...but you’re right. I may not come back one day.”

He lets the acknowledgement sit in the air for a few moments while you search the helmet for something more. Sadness? Fear? Worry? Or are those all just your own emotions reflected back in the brilliant shine?

“So I’ll teach you. How to fly the Crest, my contacts, my plans, all of it.” The resolute tone of his voice smooths your face, leaning into his touch as the thrumming anxiety beneath your skin lowers to a simmer. “We’ll have backups, boltholes, everything you need in case of an emergency.”

The shuddering breath you take is met with a quiet, “That’s it, Mesh’la,” as your heart rate begins to drop. A few moments more and you find your fortitude, his arms resting in an easy circle around your waist.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Mando promises, wiping away a streak of tears from your cheek. The leather is soft on your skin, the touch reverent.

“I know, Mando,” you hiccup, nose stuffed and head pounding from the ache of emotion bouncing inside it. You must be a sorry sight, but Mando only caresses your face and holds you close.

(you don’t dare think this could me more than care right now)

(your heart couldn’t take it)

“Didn’t know you had medical training,” he says, his thigh shifting making you hiss out a “sorry” as you adjust your weight off his injured leg.

“My mother taught me well,” you reply, eliciting a nod from Mando. “Didn’t know the Crest was such a complicated ship.” A pause. “I like watching you pilot her.”

“Is that so?” Mando purrs, and that sneaky arousal from before aches quietly between your legs as Mando’s hand slips from your cheek to slide along your collarbone.

“You’re good with your hands,” you gasp, your own coming to his forearm to tighten on the vambrace.

“I know,” he replies cockily, fingers sliding back up to brush his thumb over your lower lip.

A small curious trill echoes up the ladder, pulling his hands away from you with a sigh. You would laugh but it’s probably for the best. Your nerves are live wires, raw emotions still just barely simmering under the surface.

“Sounds like Bean’s given up on the jerky. Coming down?” you ask, standing and wiping your face more thoroughly with your shirt sleeve.

(no point in scaring the kid)

(you’ll be okay)

“Wait…” Mando says, bringing you back into the bracket of his thighs again. “Tonight, after the kid goes to sleep, meet me in the ‘fresher,” he says, one wandering hand dragging slowly up your hip. “I’ve been thinking about what I’d like to do if we were back there again.”

Heat erupts across your face, molten hot down your spine and puddling in your core.

“Kriff, Mando, don’t know how I’m going to last until then when you talk like that,” you groan, thighs rubbing together as he tilts the helmet at you.

“Better hope he tires out quickly,” he teases.

Bean does not go down early, but you use the time to dote on him further. He relishes in the long dinner, the extra-detailed story you weave about a Bantha family in the desert, the indulgent snuggle under your chin as you soothe him to sleep.

(maybe your heart needed just a little more comfort)

(or maybe you just love him more than you let yourself admit)

Either way, when you settle him into his hammock, blue blanket tucked around his tiny body, you thank the Maker that he’s trusted you with such a precious, weird, perfect little creature.

And then later, when you enter the ‘fresher and Mando’s hands land hot and bare on you, you thank the Maker again for sparing Mando as he takes you apart pressed against the cool tiled wall, mouth buried in his thick bicep as his skilled fingers drag your orgasm to new shattering heights.

Balanced on the edge of the sink, Mando’s helmet tucked over your shoulder as he pumps into you with long slow thrusts, you whisper all of the words you couldn’t say in the cockpit.

“Thank you for coming back to me.”

“Feels so good Mando, you feel so good inside me.”

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

Mando’s voice drags roughly over your skin, rumbling into your ear.

“I’m here, Mesh’la.”

“I’ve got you.”

“I’ll keep you safe.”

And you believe him.

END

“a flower knows, when its butterfly will return, and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand; but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon, when I don't know, if you will ever come back.”

― Sanober Khan

Episode 10 of the I Think of You Series

The story continues in Episode 11: Rising Phoenix

#din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #mando fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #i think of you series #prolix fics

[1donoow]

STAR WARS REC

PT.2

......

♡ - smut

Most of them are fluff

......

<a/n>i somewhat explain why there's alot in my pin post

Anakin Skywalker

obi wan kenobi

poe dameron

din djarin

@star-whores-a-new-hoe - the star wars boys with a s/o who struggle with physical affection

@feyre-darling92 - when they're jealous

———————————————————————

anakin skywalker

@thequeerestmf - how are anakin kisses like

———————————————————————

obiwan kenobi

@ivorydragoness44 - imagine meditating with obi wan

@curiouser--and--curiouser - obi wan kenobi having a crush on you would include

- dating obi wan would include

@clints-lucky-arrow - dating obiwan headcannon

@rentskenobi - shirt

@star-whores-a-new-hoe - mornings with obi wan

- snow day

- back rubs

@spilledkauffie - tender tension

- obi wan sfw hc

- obi wan kenobi soft hc

- dating padwan!obi wan hc

@moonlit-imagines - sending care package to obiwan while he's in tatooine

@not-the-droid - across time and space

@scribble-dribble-writes - late night talking

- only you

- distraction

- socializing blues

@thequeerestmf -actions that show obi-wan kenobi that you love him

- obi-wan taking care of you when you get sick

- how are obi wan kisses like

@nanagoswife - monsters,hayrides and pumpkin patches

- Une Danse d'Amour Inconscient

@forever-rogue - ___

@bellarkeselection - I'll keep you warm

@panic-in-the-multiverse - attachment of the child pt 1 (child!reader)

@hoeforevery1 - obi wan kenobi hc

———————————————————————

poe dameron

@juno-eclipsee - starlight (first order!reader)

@mads-weasley - hope

@moonlit-imagines - poe being recruited by the first order, and you trying to get him back(skywalker!reader)

@agntofhydra - sawbones masterlist

@yelena-bellova - don't be afraid masterlist (solo!reader)

@stormkobra-5 - the house of fett masterlist (mando!force sensitive!reader)

@noclue32 - new auras (jedi!pilot!reader)

@starryeyedstories - like husband,like wife

- black leader shutting up

@eyelessfaces - heal

@jake-g-lockley - I'm cold

@dailyreverie - kiss me I'm miserable

@the-dendrophile-bookworm - lifeline

@chloe-skywalker - may the 4th be with you (solo-organa!reader)

@writefightandflightclub - you make me shy

@the-little-ewok - little help

———————————————————————

din djarin

@januaryembrs - ad astra ch.7

@starryeyedstories - din djarin and flowers

@dinsverdika - soft din thoughts

@joels6string - open tab (mechanic!reader) ♡

@noodlesfics -You being a parent to Grogu involves

@funnylittlelad - a touch of humanity pt.1

@spctrsgf - irrevocably

@namjoon-koya - mando being overprotective father to the reader

- mighty heart ch.2 (dad!mando)

- dad!mando headcannon

@pedrito-friskito - uncharted territory ♡

@groguspicklejar - the strength we admire

@sofiaaaaaaaa03 - grogu's gift

@shangchiswife - maroon

@mewhenimsad - din's kitten

@softlyspector - significant

- din takes his riddur to sorgan

@peterparkersnose - sucks to suck (senator!reader)

- after last night

@mandoalorian - borrowed time ch.1

@angelltheninth - din melting when you kiss his hand

- rivals to lovers

#masterlist #star wars rec #anakin skywalker x reader #poe dameron x reader #din djarin x reader

[fanfoolishness]

Random spoilery thoughts for The Apostate based on my deliriously watching it way after my bedtime last night, but before rewatching it tonight with the husband:

Was very excited to see Bo-Katan’s helmet in the credits. She’s really going places this season, huh?

Loved seeing glimpses of the helmet ritual. I was worried that the kid was going to be baby Din, even though he looked absolutely nothing like him; I was relieved to see it was present day, but I still would’ve liked another flashback to kid!Din. Also, does Din just not have flashbacks anymore? I kind of miss them.

A little salty we didn’t see any Mando’a in this whole ritual. But, I loved seeing the Armorer more. She’s always an intense, mesmerizing presence and even though I now distrust her (is she Force-sensitive? the way she somehow realized that croc-monster was coming… not to mention some of her other appearances where she seems to know more than people are telling her) I always love seeing her do her thing.

I want to try and write something about Din wishing he was welcome for Grogu’s sake (so he can be around other Mandalorians besides Din and discover the community for himself) but can’t seem to figure it out.

Wish we saw some more non-human Mandalorians though :(

SPACE WHALES! Purrgil, yes? Man I still need to watch Rebels. But I obstinately want to watch all of Clone Wars first (we made it to season 5! We’re so close!)

I love that Grogu was both entranced by them but also a little scared because they were just so vast. Hence the need for a cuddle, which Din did not object to.

HIGH MAGISTRATE GREEF KARGA, please, if we have to spin off more characters from The Mandalorian to get to their own TV shows, we need to see Greef just Carl Weathersing around. Everything with him is just delightful! Let his cloak get longer every episode, please please please.

Not sure at all about this harebrained IG-11 idea, Din, but I loved that we could hear some of the music that used to play for Kuiil in the theme there, and that Din straight-up called IG his friend.

DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN WHAT WAS THAT I did not expect DROID HORROR here!!!

Love to see Nevarro all grown up! Greef may still be a little shady and obviously self-serving but I love that he wants to bring other people along with him too. The more wealth around in general the more for him too, right? So of course Nevarro needs to get respectable and dank farrik, he’s just the man to do it.

I’m glad Cara Dune didn’t die on the way back to her home planet. I’ll miss her presence as a friend and comrade to Din but I won’t miss Gina Carano’s bullshittery. Maybe we can meet a buff female Mando this season to add to the roster if we have to be adding new characters.

Big man in tiny room 😍

GROGU NO omg I love that he is just as awful as real toddlers sometimes 😂

…and yet Din thinks it’s time for him to learn about hyperspace navigation what even is this parenting technique

I still miss the Razor Crest, but I like that the Naboo thing (what is it called again?) makes Din even more menacing as a pilot

Dad Is My Seatbelt ❤️

I enjoy the mossy pirate. He is rather disgusting but I’ve never seen a design quite like that before.

Bo-Katan really has nothing better to do these days than lecture Din, does she? I love how disillusioned she’s become with the Darksaber. “Just wave that thing around and they’ll do whatever you say.” I also love that she calls out Din’s tribe for being superstitious and weird again. Like we all know Din is gonna ride a mythosaur by the end of this season or next and he’ll find the mines and they better be super cool, but I’m still feeling solidarity with Bo-Katan, resident skeptic

I just need Din to really sit down and think, “Do I regret taking my helmet off? It was always to help Grogu. To try and keep him alive, to try and find him, to say goodbye to him. Don’t I owe loyalty to him, too? Do I feel like an apostate?” Figure your shit out, sir!

But in the meantime, keep proudly telling everyone you meet your son’s horrible name. I made myself laugh for a minute straight when I realized Greef is over here thinking Din named Grogu that on purpose

Plotwise, definitely the most scattered premiere of the show, and because of it, not the most effective episode. I’d give it a B - perfectly enjoyable and some really fun, surprising moments, but it’s not asking the big questions that it keeps hinting at just yet. I hope they get there.

#the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian season 3 spoilers #the mandalorian the apostate spoilers #the apostate spoilers #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu djarin #my mando reviews #the apostate

[legolasghosty]

I’m still thinking about jatp zombie apocalypse au, so i’d love to hear thoughts on that if you’re feeling like it

Hello Anon!!! Yes, I am still thinking about it! Just had a rough school week and didn't have the spoons to respond! But here we are now!

To recap what I already said in the tags on this post, you have the guys as ghosts, as per canon, when the zombie apocalypse hits. One way or another, they happen across the zombie bodies of the guys. And clearly their souls are still totally fine, they're still ghosting around like they did before. This would indicate that zombies no longer contain the souls of the people they once were. Sooo... you don't have to feel weird about killing them. They're literally just killer meat sacks.

Headcanon time!

Okay starting off with a lovely idea that @innytoes had, ghosts would be super helpful in the apocalypse cause they can get in and out of places without getting attacked. Alex becomes the designated Grab and Go ghost, mostly because he's less likely to get sidetracked by random stuff that would take up more space than they have and serves no purpose. (But Julieeee, the stuffies looked so lonely!!!)

Julie ends up having to tell her whole family that the guys are ghosts, cause she's a terrible liar and fails at explaining how she knew that the last 5 pharmacies were infested before they even got close.

Carlos already knew of course. Ray is like, "....actually that makes a lot of sense. Okay." He has many followup questions once they reach a safehouse, but he kinda takes it in stride fairly well. Tia... probably would be freaking out, except she's already freaking out about the whole zombie situation. So she's just like, "Nope, not dealing with this right now." Full scale denial. She comes around eventually, but slowly. (More credit to Inny about Tia!)

Julie is definitely a screamer, but she's honestly pretty good at killing zombies. She's got good reflexes, and will fully swing a baseball bat at anything that moves when they're in an unknown area. She does end up swiping right through the guys several times though...

Reggie saves a stray dog when they're escaping a grocery store, and then freaks out when Ray tries to chase off the mutt that's 'following them'. Reggie gets Julie to convince her dad to let the dog stay with them. Ray is like, "Julie you don't even like dogs that much?" And Julie is like, "Well... sorry, but the literally puppy dog eyes plus Reggie's are too much. And Mando is growing on me." (Because yes, Reggie did name the dog after the Mandalorian). Mando becomes part of the gang. Tia claims to hate him cause he probably has fleas and stuff. She has also been caught by the ghosts(and the humans) slipping him food scrapes. So they all know she is lying.

Luke is lousy at fighting zombies, but his musician ear is pretty good at picking up both zombie mutterings and the distress of surviving humans. He's a great scout as long as he doesn't get distracted! Thank goodness for ghost magic and soul connections, cause Julie has to go way off the plan more than once to find him. Alex and Reggie are her backup usually. He's usually swept up in some abandoned music store or jotting down lyrics somewhere.

Okay Inny asked about the same AU, so this will be continued in another post shortly!

(Send me an AU and I'll give you 5+ headcanons about it!)

#legolas tag #legolas answers asks #jatp #jatp fanfic #jatp zombie apocalypse au

[bellysoupset]

A little more of the LukeBell novela.

--------------

"I don't know mom, do I seem like I have a crystal ball?" Lucas heard through the door, just as he was about to knock. There was no other voice answering, so he figured Bella was on the phone and not with company.

He had been fully recovered for a week now, the time it had taken to get back on his feet and start to get his life together after he had let it go up in flames. Of course, cleaning his kitchen, catching up in all the late homework, fiercely apologizing to his friends... That had all been him procrastinating on the real issue at hand: apologizing to Bell.

"Voy a checar los hoteles y te mando," Bella said, sounding annoyed, "OK, adios".

Before Luke could think better of it, give in to the anxiety that was making his heart race and his stomach churn, he knocked on the door.

"Just a second!" Bella yelled and he waited, wiping his hands on his jeans. Three weeks. Exactly 23 days since he had last seen her, the longest they had ever been apart in the last four years of relationship.

She pulled the door open and Lucas gulped down, forcing a smile, "Hi."

"Hi," Bella crossed her arms to her chest. She was wearing just yoga pants and a sporty bra, probably about to leave for gym, her hair up in a ponytail. He forced his eyes not to linger.

"Uhm... Can we talk?"

"No," She scoffed, slamming the door on his face. Lucas jumped back, startled as the wood shook with the strength of the blow. He let out a sigh, leaning on the door.

"Bella..." he had no idea from where to start, "I'm sorry. I was... An ass. I blew everything, I made a huge deal out of something small and I really, really, shouldn't have proposed to you like that. I know I messed up-"

The door opened and once more he was met by a furious gaze. Bella stared at him, "did you break up with me because your dad told you to?"

For once Lucas was shocked. He shook his head vehemently, "No! No! No, I... I proposed to you because he told me not to."

Her face turned red, out of anger or embarrassment he wasn't sure. Lucas cringed, "I shouldn't have done that, Bell... I was being stupid."

"You think?" she rolled her eyes, "I thought I was dating an adult, but it seems I was dating a fifteen year old with daddy issues."

Her words were cutting and while it wasn't anything new from what Lucas had already heard before, it hurt the fact that Bell was saying this of all people. He winced, shaking his head, "I'm not. It was a bad month, he kept bringing up my mom and fucking with my head and then you said no and everything just snowballed-"

"You broke my heart," she interrupted him, "you're the first guy I ever loved and you dumped me and then acted like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. Four fucking years, Lucas."

"It wasn't nothing, you know I didn't think it was nothing, I was falling apart too, Bella-"

"I don't care if you were!" she exclaimed, eyes wide, "you broke up with me. I called you a million times, I was willing to talk about it, but you acted like a fucking child, so no, I don't give a damn if you thought- If you decided to chug a bottle of vodka and die in some disgusting pub and I don't care-"

"How do you know about that?" Lucas frowned and Bella scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Get out of here, Luke."

"No!" Lucas pushed all thoughts aside, glaring at her, "I know I messed up and I know I'll have to do a lot to get us back to where we were, but I love you, Bella. I do," he stepped closer, looking at her intently, "and I know you're furious right now, rightfully so, but I also know you love me too."

Bella's resolve seemed to crumble, the walls all but melting. She sighed, closing the space between them and cupping his face, "Luke..." her thumb ran over his cheek and he smiled, couldn't help it. He could see it in her eyes, "I love you, of course I do."

"Then-"

"But it'll pass," she pulled her hand back, shaking her head, "please get out of here, Luke."

There was a ringing in his ears and Lucas found he would much rather she had slapped him across the face than to hear that. He felt like Bella had just punched him in the middle of his stomach, successfully having murdered all the butterflies there.

"You don't mean that."

"I do," she held firmly, eyes overly shiny, "I love you, but I'll get over it. Bye Luke," and without waiting for his response she clicked the door shut on his face once more, this time without slamming it.

It hurt more.

He stared at her door, fighting the horrible burning in his eyes, blinking against it just as he started to feel his vision turn blurry from the tears. They streamed down his face and he rubbed them away angrily, finally moving away from her door. The last thing he wanted was for Bella to hear him.

He made it all the way back to his car before the break down hit him like a ton of bricks. He had just fully, completely blown his relationship down and for what? A stupid proposal neither of them wanted? His dad? His ego?

Lucas let out a sob and lowered his head to the steering wheel, wrapping his arms around himself. Fuck.

#mywriting #lucas atwood #isabella martinez

[spextronaut]

My thoughts on this week’s episode of Mando:

I’m actually writing this bit right here 2 hours before the episode is even out bUT I had to share my idea of, with Din and Bo Katan not getting along very well currently, I would LOVE if they fought (maybe in this episode or the next one?) and Din ended up winning back the Darksaber??? And if it was in front of a bunch of other Mandos and they immediately accept him as Manda’lor unlike how they are with Bo Katan???? I’d scream I really hope that this is where the show is going and if it’s not y’all can bet your asses that I will write fix-it canon divergent fanfic for this concept

It’s episode time I am begging this episode to be good or have Din take off his helmet or Something worth my fucking time

Once again begging the show to do something interesting with the plot and have Din and Bo Katan fight or have Bo Katan lose the saber or Something just to make it fun

Oh god dammit are you seriously making me go back to episode 3 levels of shit?? I hated that plot I just want Din this is bullshit

Wowww it’s so shocking that she’s Imperial 🙄

<Din Djarin33

As someone who has never seen a piece of Star Wars media unconnected to Mando I have no fucking idea what’s happening rn

I want Darth Maul to be here purely because I like the look I have no clue if he’s alive or not

Y’all lost the civil war against the Republic for a reason,,,

The Shadow Council? Are you fucking serious??

Project Necromancer. Are you fucking serious

I’m under the belief, with no prior knowledge, that Anakin Skywalker was the only thing holding the Empire together smh

We aren’t gonna kill the Mandos thank you that’s illegal <3

Ngl I think the only reason Moff Gideon is really “worried” about the Mandos is because he wants a rematch against Din bc he’s pissy about losing the Darksaber last season

GROGU IS SITTING IN BO KATAN’S LAP!!! AUNT BO KATAN FR FR

IG-11????? WITH AN ANZELLAN???

Grogu sitting on the table I’m gonna start crying fuck

Bad baby is back!!

oh my fucking god he’s in the robot I’m gonna cry look at this motherfucker. he is so fucking <333

ASSISTED SPEECH TECH!!!! OMFG AUTISM GROGU REAL!!!! HE IS SO!!!!!

HES SO HAPPY IM GONNA CRY <333333

IM CRYING HE IS SO FUCKING <33333

Din is in his extra tired dad arc I fucking love it here

Of course Din and Grogu will volunteer and people will only follow! If Din and Grogu are there! Because DIN IS BETTER AT LEADING PEOPLE THAN BO KATAN AND I WILL FIGHT ALL YALL ON THIS

The Armorer is so fucking suspicious I won’t lie

I’m claiming Grogu as disabled bc like. Mobility device. Speech aid. I can’t be fought about this

Now what in the fuck is that thing

Bo Katan this is why you shouldn’t be any kind of leader you trust people way way way too easily

What in the fucking cult

This. Is why. We. Lie. Shut the FUCK up Bo Katan you’re fucking yourself over (and thus making Din look like a better leader but yk,,,)

“And then he betrayed me” BO KATAN. HE IS IMPERIAL. YOU CANT TRUST IMPERIALS YOU KNOW BETTER

once again I am saying Din is a better leader because HE beat Moff Gideon, Bo Katan didn’t and SHE DIDNT EVEN BEAT DIN TO GET THE SABER BACK HRHRHRGE

I’m begging this doesn’t turn to romance please god please do not do this I am begging I’m about to start crying do not. Don’t do this to me

DIN. DIN LEADER ARC. PLEASEEEE GOD I AM FUCKING BEGGINGGG

don’t do this. don’t do this im panicking Din shut the fuck UP I hate THIS FUCKING SHOW

I know Din is a follower not a leader but HE DESERVES A LEADER ARC PLEASEEEE WHY IS THIS SHOW LIKE THIS 😭😭

… space chess?

Oh Jesus Christ… Din? Din can you stop this? I want a leader arc god I’m BEGGING

“Can I step in?” BO KATAN STOP HOLDING HIM BACK FROM HIS LEADER ARC YOU BITCH

GROGU SLAY!!!!!! I love him so much omfg he <3333

stop. stop. shut the fuck up “he didn’t learn that from me” YES HE DID HOE STFU

no one hates Star Wars more than Star Wars fans smh

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS THAT THING

IS THAT A FUCKING DRAGON????????? FUCK HEAH???? FUCK THE MANDALORIANS GIVE ME DRAGON

“You good?” IM SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP HE IS SUCH A FUCKING DAD

Oh Jesus Christ what is that

Imperial Mandos LIKE I FUCKIN SAID

begging this to be the reason that Din gets a leader arc or a helmet removal im fucking begging

Grogu I- 😭😭

OH HELL

Din is slaying he’s in there by himself but he is slaying SO FUCKING HARD I LOVE HIM

are you fucking serious he’s in a goddamn Mando suit

Din is in his bdsm arc did not expect that today

Fuck you Moff Gideon also Din doesn’t have the Darksaber so,,,, honestly thank god he gave it to Bo Katan like fuck yeah dude

RAHHH NOO DONT KILL THE MANDOS

helmetless din. I’m begging. please god give me something

If Paz dies I’m rioting smh

PAZ YOU BITCH HOW DARE YOU YOU HAVE A SON IM RIOTING IM DISOWNING THE SHOW FANFICTION HERE I FUCKING COME

WHAT IN FHE ACTUAL FUCKING FUCK IS THAT

FANFIC HERE I COME FUCK THIS SHOW FUCK IT SO MUCH

I hate that. Grogu was the best part I literally don’t remember anything better happening I’m so fucking disappointed

I’m thankful that they aren’t forcing a romance on us (so far) and it’s not Awful and I’m excited for the almost definitely whole episode helmetless babygirlified Din next week but Jesus Christ that was just. It was awful it was bad

I give it like a 5/10 because it was fine with some good scenes but just. It was bad. I fucking hate this episode and i can’t even explain why like I could previously it just,,, idk it’s bad I don’t like it

Y’all can expect me promoting some fanfiction sometime soon because I’m gonna start a fix-it rewrite starting from episode 6 of TBoBF and reshape the end of that and this season into what I genuinely think would be better

And if you love this season good for you, seriously! I wish I could, but with the foreshadowing from last season and especially the last 2-3 episodes? You can’t even compare them and season 2 was a step down from season 1 it’s just… it’s not comparable and I’m really upset about it

My point still stands about the whole “if the season finale doesn’t get better I won’t come back for season 4” btw I just can’t handle the disappointment over and over again. But if tumblr shows me some really good shit then I might come back for a couple episodes

Overall I’m just disappointed and I really wish that they had writers that genuinely care about the story they were setting up instead of caring about setting up spin offs and selling merchandise but what can I really expect from Disney?

#spencer rambles #the mandalorion spoilers #mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian season 3 spoilers #the mandalorian s3 ep7 #the mandalorian season 3 episode 7 #the mandalorian chapter 23

[pentechnics]

I completely agree with what you said about mando. I have seen all the SW movies (including the newer trio loft) but I really don’t remember anything but was able to follow mando s1-2 with no problems. I also wasn’t really watching because it was SW but rather because the relationship between Din and Grogu is so special

YES.

Let’s talk about it!!

I feel like the real magic of Mando, the thing that made it stand out so much, was that Din was just a dude. A random guy trying to live his life and help support his covert. He wasn’t part of the greater star war — no force, no jedi/sith, didn’t even live on one of the major planets — just dealing with the fact that his existence lies within the results of those bigger actions.

My introduction to Star Wars was The Force Awakens and that is still my favorite movie and is near and dear to me (that one and TLJ were the only SW things I’d seen by the time I watched Mando), but I really wasn’t sucked into the SW universe until Mando came out because I just didn’t vibe as much with the bigger picture elements, if that makes sense. There was too much going on and too many strands of the story to keep up with and too many people who just had to be right about everything—

but as we know, DIN DIDNT KNOW SHIT ABOUT STAR WARS. and therefore, WE could know no shit and we’d be right where we need to be to follow his story! What a beautiful concept!

And that doesn’t necessarily go away once Grogu enters the picture — he just has several questions. As do we. And we go with him to find the answers! And that’s where weaving in Ahsoka and Luke made perfect sense and now that Grogu has chosen to not pursue that branch of the narrative we don’t have to be as involved with it, y’know?

And here’s where I get beefy with how Jon is portraying the next arc of Din’s story. It seems — we won’t know for sure until we see the season, but it SEEMS — like they’re going full-on into him becoming the Mand’alor and reuniting Mandalorians. The second part is lovely, we know he lost his covert and needs to figure out for himself what being a Mandalorian means to him now. And finding more of his kind will definitely help him do that. Shared trauma. Group therapy. Love that for him.

I have no doubt that he’ll still be my simple guy. I just don’t wanna have to know all of TCW to be able to understand this season or ‘get the most out of it.’ I wanna not know shit and learn alongside him again.

But more than anything, knowing him as a character, I just don’t think being Mand’alor fits. And that’s just my opinion and I recognize that but listen our mans has lived his life in quiet corners and secluded alleys by his lonesome (covert and Grogu excluded) by choice. Do we really think he’d want this?

And hey, maybe my interpretations are wrong. Maybe he won’t do it. Maybe he’ll go as far as to help reunite the scattered clans into a more cohesive people and then pass off the reins to Bo-Katan or whoever else might show up (not Paz, tho. We know he would never lmao) and then go back to being a simple space dad and raising his kid. We’ll see.

I know some diehard, lifelong SW people that aren’t as into Mando because it’s not ‘classic Star Wars.’ And I know others, including myself, that love it the most for that very reason. It has a little bit of give for the classic fans, like those cameos and mentions of greater things. Those just aren’t the forefront. Which I love!

Plus, at the heart of every Star Wars story is found family, which is exactly what Din and Grogu are. Like you said, my love, their connection is just so unique and special! They and their dynamic are the driving force behind this show — it doesn’t need anything else to carry it. They are why we love it so much. Bigger SW is a pile of puzzle pieces of things that get put together to form a narrative and Mando is more like a poster. It’s all already there, created by a few key elements and has some of those in common with the puzzle, but can stand alone. You don’t need to do the puzzle to enjoy looking at the poster. (Idk if that makes sense but it’s all I can think of rn lol)

The force is just Grogu’s little quirk. The empire’s just the bitch that made Din’s life harder and made it personal when they tried to hurt his kid. He took names and kicked asses, and then he was done with them. Mandalore’s gotta just be the current thorn in Din’s ass that he needs to tweezer out.

Side characters. Assist trophies, if you will. But not the driving force. That’s them:

also I hate the whole ‘repenting for his sins’ dialogue but tbh I think they’re just using that for hype I don’t think it’ll actually be that deep and he’ll instead take the time to come into his own and explore other types of mandalorian life that feels much more like what he’d do but that’s just me. Also I’m still very much recovering from what they did to BOBF so I can’t help but be anxious in general about how this is gonna go. Wouldn’t put it past Jon to shoot himself in the foot with his best work.

Double also, after seeing that thing Jon said I am just pissed that there just seems to be no effort or forethought being put into the timeline of the narrative!!! Hire writers, Jon!! Give Din and Grogu the intent their story deserves, in every way!! Or I’ll bite your face!!

ok rant over thank you for this ask darling!! ❤️

#buckle up babes I have a RANT #the mandalorian

[thirstworldproblemss]

Hello I love your writing! Most of all the Mando storys! Will you write more for him soon? Did you like season 3?

Hello and thank you, dear anon! I'm always thrilled to hear from people who like my writing, and Din is particularly near and dear to my heart! 🥰🥰 I have a handful of WIPs with him already (and a train car full of ideas that I'd love to write someday). There is one in particular that I've been polishing up a bit in hopes of getting it posted someday soon, BUT I don't want to promise anything because I am notoriously bad at sticking to any sort of deadlines or timeline as far as writing/posting goes (especially when my real life gets busy like it is right now) 😅🙈

As for season 3, I finally watched it a couple of weeks ago, and... (Mando s3 spoilers below the cut)

First of all, let me just emphasize that this is my opinion and my opinion ONLY. It's not my intention to rain on anyone's parade, nor do I want to argue with anyone about it.

So... if you loved season 3, that's great! And I love that for you!! I know some people who were delighted by it, and I'm happy for them, but sadly, that was not my experience.

In general, I found that I needed to... hmm, let's say... adjust my expectations somewhat to be able to enjoy the season 3? I think mostly because I loved s1 & s2 so much, and it seemed like these most recent episodes never quite lived up to the same level for me.

Basically, there were a lot of places where I felt like the plot, dialog, and/or characterization could have been tightened up or handled differently to better effect. I often felt like cohesive storytelling (and/or in-universe physics—hello, 30 second trip to the core and back, I'm looking at you) took a backseat to checking off plot points, and the chance for greater emotional engagement was ignored in favor of video-game-style high-speed chases and/or fights, which like..... yeah, those sequences were cool and all, but I never really felt all that invested in the outcome because it seemed like the show skipped over the groundwork needed to.... make me care?

Ironically, the bit of storytelling that I found most interesting and did emotionally connect with was the part of ch 19 focusing on the "rehabilitation" of Dr Penn Perishing and other Imperials, which……… turned out to be just a way to snip that particular loose end and lead us back to Moff Gideon. And really, there seemed to be a lot of shoehorning in bits of the wider Star Wars universe, often in ways that placed the emphasis on that to the detriment of... the rest of the show. (A bit like they were so excited to show us the forest, to the point that they forgot we also wanted to see the individual trees, perhaps?)

Eventually, I did realized that part of the reason events felt so random was that I was expecting more of Din's story, but that's not what Season 3 is anymore. It's Bo Katan's story, with Din and Grogu along for the ride. (Sort of the reverse of what happened with tBoBF, I think, and I found it equally awkward there.) Once I resigned myself to the fact that I was watching The Bo Katan Show, some of the storytelling choices made a bit more sense, and I do like s3 marginally better when viewed through the lens.

TLDR (because that got really freakin' long--sorry, anon 😅) I liked season 3 okay, but I felt it could have been handled better, and I wish the focus had stayed on Din and Grogu's story because that's what I'm most interested in.

Like... C'mon, Favreau, where's The Mandalorian, Supplemental Chapters: The Further Adventures of our Favorite Tin Can Space Man Dad Bounty Hunter and his Green Bean Son?!?!?

#answered asks #anon asks #people say nice things about twp’s fic #twp speaks #(at length even 😆) #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian s3 spoilers

[alpineshepherdbadboy]

for the character ask meme, Ignacio Varga ofc!

my little dude!

Favorite thing about them: i love the his relationship with power and control. the whole reason he shot himself was because the last few seasons have revolved around him becoming increasingly powerless, but he’s never actually powerless. he just has power he’s unwilling to wield. he got himself into a lower-middle management cartel position on his own. he wasn’t offered anything— when he wanted something, he’d go behind the back of his erratically violent boss to get it. that’s where season one nacho’s power came from. and when that little fiefdom of power is threatened, he gets tuco locked up. he takes on more power in tuco’s absence without too much protest until he realizes his newfound power has a condition: his father. he then tries to shed his power, but that paradoxically only brings him more power. the more powerful he is, the less powerful he feels. he’s a prisoner to his own upward mobility. lastly: i also like how much of a bitch he is.

Least thing about them: as beautiful i think nacho’s completed story is, i was a little disappointed with how the show (or perhaps more specifically michael mando— sorry mr. mando i think you’re an incredible actor) ended up painting him as him as a hero. this is why i’ve taken to calling him a folk hero rather than a hero— he belongs in the echelon of greedy, deceitful, and violent men who managed to harvest something truly beautiful out of their lives. in his final episodes, i wish we could have been reminded of the ambitious and self-interested man we met in season one. the incredible death he died was not in spite of the man he was. because that man is the one who carried him to that lovely death.

Three things i have in common with them: we’re both 5’ 5” (or at least i like to imagine nacho is), we both have an appreciation for gold jewelry, and we both are perhaps a bit too cautious of people.

Three things i don’t have in common with them: i would have finished that glass of $1400 cognac, i will never be as butch as him no matter how hard i try, and i have better taste in art. okay? can we talk about how fucking ugly nacho’s interior design is? it’s not that i don’t like minimalism— i love minimalism, but i love real minimalism. nacho’s house is bullshit. those two fucking pieces that are made up of extruded triangles or whatever? i hate those! they do nothing for the space!!! minimalism can only exist when nothing can be added or taken away, and to evaluate that tenant the minimalist object, wether that be a home or sculpture or painting, must be evaluated within the environment it inhabits. nacho’s home is a hastily curated collection of disparate parts that make a sickly whole. the car painting/print could be nice if the installation weren’t garbage. hire some fucking art handlers dude. no regard for space! that living room makes me wish nacho shot himself sooner! the only nice place in his house is the dining area where he spoke with his dad (was this also where they had the poker game? 👀)

Favorite line: either “i’d rather get some shut eye” (that line is just so heartbreaking to me) or his entire “here’s how i got s msn’s skull stuck in me” speech from s2.

brotp: for realsies? nacho and domingo. for funsies? nacho and jo. for fantasies? nacho and kim. (i’ll say this again: they are on the same journey, just headed in opposite directions).

notp: no one really? i mean, i’d be down for anything really. nacho/lyle from los pollos? arguing about whether mr. fring is a nice man? sure! nacho/howard? sounds like a hoot! nacho/chuck’s lesbian doctor, the good dr. clea duvall? all nacho has to do is throw on a cheerleading uniform and you’ve got mu favorite feel good movie!

otp: wouldn’t it be funny if i didn’t say lacho?

Random Headcanon: he never learned to cook because after his mom died, his dad tried to keep him in a sort of suspended childhood. manuel took up all the cooking his wife used to do and wouldn’t dare let nacho help bc he didn’t ever want nacho to feel like he had to take care of him.

Unpopular Opinion: idk if this is actually unpopular, but his relationship with amber and jo is disgusting. i love nacho, i love the relationship as a story element, i think it reveals a lot of very nuanced things about him as a character, and i even think it’s pretty hot. but he knows exactly what role he plays in there lives and arguably never shows a hint of remorse about that. he exploits their addiction and other dependencies because he’s lonely or because he’s maintaining an image or because it’s more convenient than any real human relationship or all of the above. they’re certainly using him, but look at scenes like when he poured out a puzzle for jo— the woman who’s drug habit he indulged to the point where he had to treat her like a child for interrupting his soccer game. (talk about a strange relationship with power). it’s never fully addressed in story how unconscionable that really is, but i don’t necessarily thinks it had to be. i got it. i just wished it felt like more audience members recognize the malleability of nacho’s morals.

Song i associate with them: field commander cohen by leonard cohen.

Favorite picture:

#thank you for the ask! #maybe you can figure out where exactly my sobriety floated away! #ask #tracksuitjimmy #nacho varga

[wantonlywindswept]

mando 3.8 liveblog (at least it’s finally over)

alright here we go

hey what happened to not being able to use comms

i will consider it justice if axe dies too

ahh feckin imps with beskar

did they? drug him??? hit him?? HE WAS WALKING FINE BEFOR---nevermind

ewwww they even have flamethrowers???? fuckin mando wannabes

also lol really only 2 of them for din??

baby~!!

no torture for din :(

btw BO YOU LET THE INFANT WANDER OFF ON HIS OWN??

tracking?? WHY IS HE RED AND GROGU A GREEN DOT oh cos droid mb? that would make sense. fucking hilarious if they were color-coordinated by gideon tho lmao

scomp. what. what is that word

frankly surprised R5 wasn’t scrapped tbh, he DID deserve it

guys you. you cannot make another R2. i do not have emotional investment in a droid that betrayed the covert

din why ask questions when you can’t understand him

yes! yes if axe dies on the cruiser as his epic death scene i will allow it for paz

fuckin love mandalorians just. flinging themselves out into space. love them.

ah yes the stupid vader shields

IS THIS GONNA BE ANOTHER DUEL OF THE FATES bc it can’t, that shit was too cool to be remade

mmmmm knives

PARRY THIS BLADE BETWEEN THE ARMOR YOU FILTHY CASUALS

i am loving all of his kicky moves

tube people! 

are these the mandalorian jedi i wanted--oh my god the bitch cloned himself THE NARCISSIM. i mean im not surprised but

damn that life beneath the surface though, so green

oh boo that means the armorer isn’t the spy doesn’t it

is it just gonna be ‘facist chick and gideon were the spies for the evil facism council’?? so boring.

oh my god that flying saber pose pls

lol u bitches wanna try to take on mandos mid-air? you’re not THAT good of copies

I WAS RIGHT I WAS RIGHT HE WANTED TO PUT THE FORCE INTO CLONES/MANDALORIANS I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT DEMAGOLKA 2.0

technically he exploded them before they could draw their first breath

guys beskar v beskar hand to hand is. silly.

ohh worm? mando vs shithead fake siths?

baby jedi vs sith??

oh god that heartbroken little ‘no’ din yelled

guys you’re being beaten by a giggling infant

oh gideon totes put an exoskeleton in his suit didn’t he, loser

no. no. no. really? really bo vs gideon? my fucking god it hate it.

we were shown how gideon vs mando was important, their fight vs each other during the seasons, and the fight gets passed over to bo. like yeah i get din saving his kid more important but i just. the lack of payout.

woves you’re still alive?

OH?? OHHHHHHHHH UIT BROKE? IT BROKE IT BROKE IT BROKE FUCK YEAH FUCK YEAH

seriously the classist bitch gets to live but paz doesn’t??? lame. uber lame. go down with your fucking ship woves

so slippy slidey

okay if gideo died in that fire they abso---NEVERMIND BABY FOR THE WIN

damn love that precedent being taken advantage of. would love if more things were too

rip the great forge

oh??? mythosaur??????? please??????

oh no ragnar

why you gotta be like this

oh i guess they didn’t count his as complete

FUICKING. BAPTISM??

oh we gonna baptize grogu now too?

OH? OH I WAS FUCKING RIGHT YOU DIDNT CONSIDER YOURSELF A DAD YET YOU MOTHERFUCKING GO ON, SAY THE FGUCKING WORDS FUCKING DO IT

MYHSAUR NOW??  FOR MANDO JEDI???

DIN GROGU HELL YEAH. also does that mean the naming styles are eastern asian style? IS DIN ACTUALLY HIS LAST NAME. WOT. is ‘din’ some form of appellation? WHAT IS GOING ON

oh my god are y0ou fuckign srs he has to leave mandalore already what is this SHIT

MTYHOSAUR??? BABY SEE MYTHOSAUR????

oh worm visiting the pubs? yay more carson!!

oh my god are we ACTUALLY bringing back the droid

lawls vacation cabin, glad to see the secondary ‘obtain a house’ quest was fulfilled

oh god we brought the droid back as the marshall

din get a landscaper in there

congratulations din djarin on successfully becoming the npc side character he always wanted to be

#mandalorian season 3 #the mandalorian #me @ the writers be like #this storyline is a lame hill to die on #but at least you're dead #ANYWAY paz just didn't show up bc he was in the infirmary #i make the rules now

[interdimensionalmenace]

Thoughts while watching The Mandalorian s3e7 “The Spies”

SPOILERS

(Form recap) still have bad vibes about Bo getting the saber back fuck

Ew imperial probe droid

the code is a TK number

FUCKING GIDEON

Oh she IS spy. Figures.

Back to Gideon

Those helmets look like clown t-visors + Mando kit + Imperial Mandalorian commando gear wtf

OH SHIT THE CLONING TANKS

WHAT’S IN THEM

THRAWN NAME DROP

COMMANDANT HUX??? IS THAT FIRST ORDER GENERAL HUX’S FUCKING DAD???

Project Necromancer good lord

Captain Pelleaon. That’s familiar. Why.

Bitch I hope if Thrawn comes back he whoops your imperial asses

They’re speaking of Thrawn’s return like he’s an imperial messiah obdjeknw

BRENDOL HUX. It is his fucking dad what the hell. Ofc he’s involved in Project Necromancer

Bitch what do you mean you’re not obsessed with cloning and Hux is, Gideon

You jackasses better be afraid of the Mandalorians

“We shall be rid of the Mandalorians once and for all” good luck with that bitch

THE THEME. OH MY GOD THE THEME.

Aww Nevaro healing

The parallels between the Chimera and Kryze’s light cruiser having stuff painted/etched on their hulls

Look at all the SHIPS!!! So many Kom’rk class fighters, the light cruiser, the transports AAAAA

Ex-Death Watch meets Children if the Watch damn

Looks like a fucking West Side Story confrontation lineup

And they all IMMEDIATELY take off their helmets lol

The NOD

Paz and Axe know each other I bet??

IG-11!!!! Awww he’s being piloted (sorry IG-12)

Aw poor guy running from Grogu lol

IG-12 = Grogu’s Mando armor haha. This is a bad idea.

HE CAN SPEAK WITH IT HAHA

It’s like learning to ride a bike lol

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes—“

MEILOURUN

Yo wtf did they catch to eat I wanna know

They’re all so quiet yikes

Great Forge = hub okay good to know

Din ofc you’re going no one doubted that bitch

Koska!!!

Axe.

PAZ.

BAHA THE ARMORER. I don’t like what she and Bo have planned

Ooo the SW theme playing as they leave orbit

Bitch look at that fleet, look at Mandalore and CONCORDIA

why is Grogu in a copilot seat

Look at them all in the drop seats!!!!

Fucking rain lol

YESSSSSS DROP FROM THE SKY YOU CRAZ ARMORED WEIRDOS

everyone shaking their heads. Yeah that’s sad.

NOW we drop

Fucking sick

God I love Kom’rk fighters

Not the sped up clouds in the sky

I still can’t believe everything’s really GLASSED. That’s horrifying.

Hey uh where IS Gideon’s hideout + sector btw? And who did he have in those cloning pods?

SHIP? Bad ship good ship?

LAND SHIP

M- Mandalorians?

MANDALORIANS???

MANDALORIANS!!!!!

Nite owls awwwwwww

Bo… you surrendered…. I mean I can’t. Blame you. Now we know how the Darksaber got to Gideon. Last ditch effort to save Mandalore and it was glasses anyway. Ay…

“Mandalore has always been too powerful for any enemy to defeat. It is always our own division that destroys us.” And you’ve witness that so many times Bo. Ouch.

That shot of Din tho

This is a very Bo (tm) episode. She’s very Bo-Katan-ish here. I love it.

YEAH BOY THE HONOR AND INTEGRITY TALK. DIN PLEDGING HIS HONOR TO BO. HECK ELYEAH

I love their little land ship so much

GREAT FORGE ROAD TRIP HELL YEAH

I love that Grogu is now a mech operator

What’s on the other side of the storm waiting for them please don’t let the fleet be gone

Paz and Axe?? Playing chess??? Mando chess??

Axe shut your face hole. Don’t dig your own grave. Paz, you dramatic little shit. Why do I bet this fight is going to help tho? And ofc it’s Paz and Axe lol

Axe your trying to fight a human tank

GROGUUUUU

we love the child stopping the adults from fighting

“He didn’t learn that from me” TRUE AF. Fin you probably got into scuffs like that with Paz 24/7

W H AT IS GOING TO HAPPEN IN SPACE

I don’t like the suspense of getting back to the Gauntlet. It’s sketchy.

M- MYTHOSAUR???

Nope just another deadly thing that lives below Mandalore’s crust. SPACE DINOSAUR

Aw no the land ship!!

Further down? Into the crust with the monster that lives beneath the crust?? Oooo would not like that. I’d go but ooooo not a fan

Oo cool caverns

GREAT FORGE GREAT FORGE GREAT FORGE— this is heartbreaking actually.

Jet packs?? OH FUCK

So that means Gideon is on-planet those are his troopers

It’s BESKAR??

I love Paz’s blaster so much that thing is so good

Oh come on no “OYA MANDALORE”

Fuck that’s Gideon’s hideout

They’re going to try and exterminate them all on-planet. It’s a trap.

Oh fuck Gideon’s fleet. OH NO THE DOORS

AMBUSH

FLAMETHROWER

TRAP CHAMBER. OH NO.

DIN

ohhhhhhhhh you demagolka bitch you have no RIGHT!! Darth Vader copycat. Fuck you.

You have nooooo right to the bes’karta or that helmet or ANY OF THIS. Fuck you fir making Mandalore your base of operations Gideon oh my stars

“Mandalore will live on in me” shut the hell up

Beskar Dark Troopers fuck

Wait never mind fuck you even more your colonizing pos

YES YOU SHOULD HAVE KILLED HIM FUCK DIN SHOULD HAVE KILLED HIM ON THE LIGHT CRUISER BUT HE HAS TOO MUCH DAMN HONOR

FUCK YEAH BO USE THAT SABER LIKE YOU LEARNED FROM YOUR JEDI BUDDIES

PAZ

Paz fall back. Paz fall back. Paz. PAZ. PAZ NO. PAZ

Paz istg don’t die.

OH SHIT THE GUARDS

PAZ

Oh fuck you for ending it like that OF COURSE IT WAS JON AND DAVE ON THIS ONE

I am. Not okay.

Thoughts later not now. I am sad.

Fuck Gideon so, so much I hope Din and Bo kick your ass

#the mandalorion spoilers #the Mandalorian s3e7 #Mandalore #moff gideon #paz viszla #Star Wars #star wars the mandalorian