#but bo katan doesn’t look like either one of them
Text
Creed
summary: Upon meeting Bo-Katan Kryze and discovering there are other Mandalorians out in the galaxy who remove their helmets, Din Djarin is suddenly questioning his beliefs and unable to stop from wondering what you, his wife, look like under your own helm.
rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Soft Din Djarin, established relationship, age gap (10 years), alternating pov, unprotected p in v, creampie, BREEDING KINK, oral sex (f receiving), first kiss, dirty talk, praise kink, domestic fluff, fluff, removing helmets for the first time, religious guilt, did I mention breeding kink? Din being so in love he wants to break the Creed, good parent Din Djarin)
pairing: Din Djarin/f!Mandalorian reader (from the Tribe with zero physical descriptions)
word count: 6.2k
a/n: It’s called Creed, but Breed also works. Lmaooo @what-muses sent in the prompt for Din hearing reader singing to Grogu, and I am so insanely sorry for this not being super wholesome. I just know in my heart Din would hear the woman he loves singing to their kid, and he’d want more children. 😭😭😭 I legit wrote 95% of this while either sick or in the ER to make myself feel better. Takes place during season 2. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing this.
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to hear what you thought of it!
Masterlist
He knows his own face—the color of his eyes, the curve of his nose, the crease between his eyebrows, the patchy facial hair. He knows the shape of his lips, the dimple in his cheek, and the lines that show his age. He’s the only person who can take in all of these details and know they belong to him, something secret, sacred—the Way of the Mandalore means no other living being can see him without his helmet. It also means you’ve never seen his face, but that’s never been an issue since you also follow the Creed.
Staring at his reflection in the ‘fresher mirror, his naked body clean from the sonic shower, he slowly moves the razor over the skin of his cheek, wondering briefly what you look like under your purple helm.
Pausing, his eyebrows furrow, realizing the thought has never once crossed his mind—it wasn’t something he ever would have wondered before because it’s never been important. The two of you had your beliefs and followed them, not caring about what was beneath the beskar, all that mattered was you loved each other.
You’ve been together since he’d saved the kid from the Client, you leaving Nevarro with him, your relationship shifting as time went on—the two of you keeping the child safe and falling in love in the process.
Then on your quest to reunite the small boy with his kind, you’d met the other Mandalorians, discovering there were many out across the galaxy who didn’t follow the Creed or the ways of old. They believed you could be a Mandalorian and remove your helmet and that your tribe was a cult.
Continuing shaving, he rinses the razor blade under water before sliding it along his other cheek. A lot of people preferred using depil cream to remove their facial hair, but Din liked the precision of the razor over the viscous liquid.
It was overwhelming hearing all that Bo-Katan had said and having this new knowledge, making him wonder what it truly meant to be a Mandalorian.
Could he really put the helmet back on once he took it off in front of another?
With the location of a Jedi and your time with your foundling running out, it was important he was present to witness your union, both knowing you were going to spend the rest of your days together by each other’s sides. Din and you exchanged your vows, committing to one another for life in the cockpit of the Razor Crest with your child in attendance and the bright streaking stars of hyperspace flying by.
His face is mostly shaved, leaving hair on his chin and above his lips, now using a small pair of scissors to trim his mustache.
It doesn’t matter to him that no one else gets to see how he looks. He’s still particular in how he likes his facial hair, unable to stand too much of it under his helmet, keeping the hair on his head cropped short for comfort.
It makes him wonder if you have preferences as he shapes his mustache.
How long is your hair? What color is it? What color are your eyes? What does your smile look like? What will your children look like?
His hand stops, his eyes widening.
Gulping hard, that’s another thought that’s never crossed his mind. He knows you’re going to have children together. It’s something you’ve discussed, but not once has he thought of their looks. Things like that didn’t matter to Mandalorians, who spend their lives covered head to toe in armor. He wonders if he’d be able to pick out the pieces of you in them to get a glimpse of what the woman he loves looks like—he wants to know.
Why is he stuck on this?
It’s not the Way.
Din sighs, finishing what he’s doing.
The scissors get put back into his shaving kit, cleaning the sink of his hair clippings, happy you got a room at the inn here on Nevarro while the Crest is being repaired. The two of you are planning to help Greef and Cara with a small matter in the morning in exchange for the ship's repairs.
Once he’s done, the stuff shoved into his bag, Din pulls out clean clothes to change into for the night, settling for some cloth pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Putting his helmet on, he gathers his bag and flight suit, the rest of his armor out in the room you’re in with the kid, stacked neatly beside your own.
Greef was the one who provided the accommodations, Din assuming it’d be a basic room—a bed, a refresher, the necessities. That wasn’t good enough for the magistrate, though. Instead, he’d set you up in a one-bedroom suite with a sitting room and a tiny kitchen.
Making his way out of the ‘fresher and bedroom, he stops in his tracks at what he hears.
You’re sitting at the small dining table, the kid in the seat beside you happily accepting the food he’s passed, which was a common occurrence, it’s the song you’re singing that has Din so caught off guard.
He’s heard you hum a lot—tunes were always getting stuck in your head that you picked up in cantinas or buskers on the street. You’ve sung before, too, but you were trying to make him and the kid laugh with your boisterous renditions of Mandalorian drinking songs.
This is different.
It’s not loud—it’s soft, sweet, the Mando’a flowing from your lips like a soft caress, hearing your love for the child with every syllable sung. This is a song mothers sang to their children, having heard such a thing back at the covert, about Mandalore the Great taming his mythical mythosaur and the strength all Mandalorians had.
There’s a helmet on your head, and he can’t help imagining what your face looks like under the t-visor. He can hear your love, would he be able to see it, too? There’s a smile in your voice, and it makes his chest squeeze at how he wishes he could look upon it.
Din knows you, and you know him.
He knows your likes and dislikes, your deepest, darkest secrets—everything about you, Din has learned and loves.
And now he wants more of you to love—he wants all of you, wants to see all of you.
You’re a wonderful mother, the kid so happy with you, taking him in like he’s your own flesh and blood, and something inside Din is screaming that you need more children—he needs to give you that, more little ones to love, and sing to, as many as you want, the thought of you pregnant with his child making his skin heat.
Stars, you’d be even more beautiful round with his baby.
He swallows hard, his pants feeling a little tight.
He knows everything about you, he loves everything about you, and guilt has settled like a stone in his stomach that he suddenly can’t get his mind off what’s under the beskar on your head.
The singing stops when you notice him, your t-visor trained on his prone form, standing just inside the room.
“Hey!” you say, handing the child more food. “It’s dinner time—ordered food while you were in the ‘fresher. Got you something I know you’ll like.”
It takes him from his reverie, finally moving again to set his bag near the table by the couch, the shining pieces of both of your armor on top of it. He tosses his flight suit onto the sofa over his cape, walking over to where you and the kid are.
He’s behind your chair, rubbing his hands over your arms as he replies, “Thank you, my love.” Leaning down to gently knock his helmet against yours in the semblance of a kiss before moving around the table to take a seat.
What would your lips feel like on his?
He has to shake the question from his brain, clearing his throat, and opening the food container in front of him.
It makes him smile when he sees you did get him something he’d like—skewers of meat and vegetables.
Picking one up, he uses the fork beside him to push off the chunks into the container, discarding the skewer and using his free hand to lift his helmet up just enough to take a bite. He groans happily at the spices enveloping his tongue, chewing and swallowing.
“Good?” you ask, beginning to eat your own dinner the same way he was.
In the company of other Mandalorians, it was generally protocol to go off and eat alone, but you’d been traveling in the tight confines of the Crest for so long that barely lifting the helmet was an acceptable compromise, avoiding looking at each other as you did it.
“Really good,” he replies, shoving more into his mouth.
The kid coos contently, full from his meal, while you both enjoy your own, sharing snippets of conversation between bites.
By the time you’re both finished, the little one is falling asleep in his chair, and helmets are once again covering your faces.
“I’ll put him to bed,” you softly say, starting to get up from your chair.
“The couch,” he says a little too quickly.
“The couch?” Your tone is teasing. “Got plans since we have a bed this evening, my dear husband?”
“Maybe I do.”
“In that case, the couch it is,” you reply, disappearing into the bedroom and returning with a pillow and blanket that you put onto the sofa, coming back over to the table to take the child.
Din busies himself cleaning up the trash and finds himself stuck in place when he’s done as he watches you sitting next to the kid, stroking his big ears while softly singing an old lullaby.
That need comes crashing into him again, the one telling him to give you a baby. It’s loud, something primal that he feels deep down that won’t be satisfied until he’s buried himself inside your cunt and pumps you full of his seed.
Arousal is burning in his gut, his cock stirring, eyes locked on your downturned helm and the curve of your breasts under your shirt.
He wants to strip you bare and feel your skin, batting away the intrusive thought of getting your helmet off—his, too, in order to lick and suck what he wants to touch.
He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t realize you’ve gotten up until you’re whispering by the bedroom door, “You coming?”
His bare feet move quickly, following you into the other room. Once the door is shut and the lock engaged, he’s crowding into you, needing to get his hands on your body, rubbing them over your soft belly and up to cup your breasts.
“You’re in a mood,” you giggle, Din’s hands roaming all over your body, your front, back, down to grab your ass.
“Need you,” he grunts.
Sliding your hands down his chest, you move lower to palm his half-hard dick in his pants, feeling it twitch under your touch.
“Yeah, you do.”
His eagerness is turning you on, wishing you could kiss him.
That makes you frown.
Over a year together and never once have you thought of kissing Din or seeing him without his helmet, for that matter, and yet, for days now, these things have been popping up in your brain. Kept you wondering what he looks like, or the face he was making in a moment or how soft his lips were, or the color of his eyes—plagued by thoughts that went against how you were raised and what you believed, clear violations of the Creed you swore to live your life by.
It’s never been an issue, always a fact that the helmet stayed on in front of another, and then you met Bo-Katan, and now you were at constant war with your own mind, feeling like it was an enemy you couldn’t vanquish in battle.
There are other Mandalorians out there, who even wish to reclaim Mandalore, and they believe you can remove your helm in the presence of another—Bo-Katan’s own armor had been passed down for three generations.
What if it was okay to remove it?
Would Din want to?
Would he still love you?
“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking you from your thoughts.
His hands are now caressing the sides of your helmet, a little intrusive thought in the back of your mind wishing he’d take it off.
“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “Just… thinking.”
“About what?”
“Stuff…”
His head tilts in confusion.
“Tell me.”
That’s the thing about Din, he’s your best friend, your husband, you can tell him anything, which is why you tell him the truth.
“Bo-Katan and the others, they are Mandalorians and remove their helmets.”
“Yes, they do not follow the Creed.”
“Do you believe they are Mandalorians?”
“Do you?”
“Bo-Katan was born on Mandalore. She fought in the Great Purge. I do believe they are Mandalorians.”
“As do I.”
“You do?”
“I do.” He nodded.
“Din, we grew up believing in the Way of the Mandalore—it’s all we’ve known. We went through the same ceremony, we swore to walk the Way and never remove our helmets, but I—” Your hands go up to cradle where his cheeks would be “—can’t stop thinking about what you look like, and I feel ashamed because I know it’s wrong.”
“It’s not wrong.” He sounds hopeful. “I feel the same and want to see your face, too.”
That has you taken aback.
“You do…?”
“I do.” He nods.
“But will you still love me…?” you ask, barely above a whisper.
“Of course. I love you for you and not for what’s underneath the beskar.”
“That’s a lie. You’re obsessed with my body.”
He chuckles, “I am because I love you and would continue loving you even if it changed…” he trails off like he’s thinking about something “I. Love. You.” he adds, saying each word clearly.
“Promise?”
Pressing a hand over his heart, he answers, “On my life.”
“Okay, I believe you.”
“Will you still love me…?” The question comes out slowly.
“We literally just had a conversation over how you love me for me, and you have to know I feel the same way.”
“Just making sure.” You can hear his smile.
“So, would you like to break the Creed with me…?”
Your heart is hammering in your chest.
“More than you know.”
Relief washes over you, combined with giddiness.
“Thank the Stars!” you exclaim happily.
“At the same time?” He’s as eager as you are, his hands moving back to hold your helmet again.
“Yes.”
Gripping his, you both count down together, “Three, two, one…” Carefully, you lift his beskar, your own coming off, blinking at the light in the room, and your eyes zeroing in on the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, your mouth falling open in shock.
A person’s looks have never meant much to you, thinking some were pleasing to the eye, you finding someone’s prowess in battle more attractive along with their personality.
Din is a formidable opponent, always succeeding in his endeavors because he is highly intelligent, strong, and knows how to fight and use a weapon.
Even though many fear your husband, he’s actually a very sweet man, caring, loving, and will protect you and your foundling with his life.
And now you know he is also unbelievably attractive.
Beautiful chocolate eyes are rounded as they stare at you, the look on his face a twin of your own, loving his nose, and the messy brown hair on top of his head, seeing that he recently shaved with his facial hair looking neat, taking in every detail and line of the man you love.
“Beautiful,” he whispers in awe, and it has tears brimming in your eyes, bending down to set his helmet on the ground, him doing the same with yours, your hands moving to touch his face when you both straighten.
He’s so gentle when his broad palms caress your cheeks, almost like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
Smiling, you reply, “You’re very handsome yourself.” You reach up to smooth your thumbs over his eyebrows. “Your eyes are stunning. I hope our child gets them.”
His lips tip up, and Stars, they’re so plush, you can’t help yourself when you lean in to press your own against his, him making a surprised sound.
Your heart picks up in speed, having wondered what it would be like to kiss him, and at first, it’s soft; the warmth spreading under your skin, meaning to only give him a peck, but then he’s pulling you closer, kissing you a little harder. It’s lingering, his lips moving against yours in tiny movements that have fire burning brightly in your veins, following his lead to mimic what he was doing again and again and again.
It’s not like either of you has any experience with this type of thing, so you’re figuring it out as you go, doing what feels good, getting braver and more comfortable. Your fingers slide into the thick strands of his hair, moaning when his tongue slides over your bottom lip, instinctively opening for him. This was somehow better, more intimate, tasting each other, exploring the other’s mouths until the need to breathe became too much, and you’re separating with smiles on your faces, Din’s lips red and shiny from spit.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, and it makes you feel all gooey.
“You’re very handsome.”
You stroke your fingers over his cheeks, his hands on your jaw, rubbing a thumb over your wet bottom lip.
It’s like you both can’t stop yourselves from staring, eyes taking in every little detail of the other's face, saving them to memory.
The need rises, and you’re kissing once more, it’s messy before you’re both moving to get your clothes off as quickly as possible—once stripped, Din’s mouth is on yours as he walks you back toward the bed, falling with you on top of it.
His hips are slotted between your thighs, his lips detaching from yours to kiss along your jaw, over your cheeks, up on your forehead, and the tip of your nose.
It makes you smile, him kissing all over your face, then to your ear, shoving his nose in your hair, and inhaling.
“Fuck, you smell amazing,” he says.
That makes you laugh.
“Thanks, but we use the same stuff—we smell the same.”
“No.” He nips at your ear, sucking it into his mouth, gasping at the jolts of pleasure shooting to your center. “You smell better.”
You press your fingers into his hair.
“Stars,” you moan, his lips trailing down your neck and sucking hard on your pulse point. “It feels so good, Din.”
His mouth is so warm, leaving your skin wet in the wake of his kisses, and he can’t seem to get enough, lips streaking across every bit of you as he travels down your body. His mouth engulfs your stiff nipple, making your back arch, gasping his name.
Arousal is hot in your belly, the feeling incredible as he laves at one hard bud, then the other, your head feeling dizzy while soft sounds spill from your lips.
He comes off your nipple with a pop, continuing his journey lower, kissing over your belly until he’s half off the bed, his big hands spreading your thighs.
There’s a look of hunger on his face as he stares at the apex of your thighs, his fingers moving to spread open the lips of your sex, seeing the pink of his tongue peek out to swipe across his bottom lip like he wants to taste you. The look has excitement thrumming in your veins, wanting nothing more than to know what it feels like to have his mouth on you.
“Taste it,” you purr, and his eyes meet yours, his so dark barely any of the beautiful brown remains. “I know you’ve licked me from your fingers.” You’ve seen him on more than one occasion lift his helmet just enough to suck your arousal from digits after they’d been inside you. “Taste it—I want your tongue.” You bit your lip between your teeth.
“Fuck,” he rasps, wasting no time dipping his head forward, licking a stripe through your slit, the flat of his tongue going from your entrance to your clit. He’s groaning into your sensitive flesh as you moan at how good it feels, him laving at every bit of slick he can find, your back arching when he pushes the wet muscle inside you.
“You taste so good.” His words are muffled in your cunt, his mouth moving up, making your toes curl when he sucks on your bundle of nerves.
Even though this isn’t an act either of you has ever done before, Din is a quick learner, knowing intimately what makes you tick—once he has his fill of your taste, he slides two thick fingers inside you, crooking them into that spot he always zeros in on, your vision going white for a second at the shock of pleasure.
“Din,” you moan, threading your fingers into his brown waves for something to hold onto.
The muscles in your belly are beginning to tighten, the heat in the base of your spine growing.
His big brown eyes lock on yours from between your legs, seeing your arousal glistening in his mustache and on his plush lips.
“Wanna taste your come,” he husks, his fingers continuing to work. “Can you come for me? Please?”
This might be his first time, but that big brain of his has quickly worked out how to get what he wants, keeping his gaze on yours while pulling your perky little clit into his mouth, sucking on it while his fingers slide along something divine, rocketing you toward your release.
Your hands tighten in his hair at the pleasurable fire building in your core, feeling it getting hotter and hotter as he works you over, having to bite your fingers to muffle your noises when euphoria explodes inside you, quieting your whine of his name.
“That’s it, beautiful,” he says into your pussy. “My good girl—such a good girl.”
His fingers leave you, replaced with his tongue, hearing and feeling him loudly groan as he indulges in your come, drinking it down from the source.
Your chest is heaving, breathing hard as you come down, your husband having the best time with his mouth on your cunt if the noises are anything to go by.
He got to explore your body, and it’s your turn, salivating at the thought.
Tugging on his hair, you say, “Din?”
His head comes up, looking a little lost with glazed-over eyes, the bottom half of his face shining in the light of the room.
All he can do is grunt in response.
“Get up on the bed and lay down on your back, please.”
His face pinches in confusion.
“What?” he whispers.
You smile. He seems almost drunk, a state you’ve never seen him in since he doesn’t like anything inhibiting his mind or body.
“Get up here, my love—” You pat the bed beside you. “—and lay down on your back. It’s my turn.”
It registers what you say, and he nods, doing as he’s told and crawling up onto the mattress and flopping down next to you with his head resting back on a pillow. Rolling over, you throw your leg over his waist, moving to straddle his hips, your wet center pressing his hard cock into his stomach. You rub your hands up his soft belly and over his chest, seeing the faded scars on his golden skin.
“You’re beautiful,” you say.
His cheeks pink at the comment.
“Thank… you…” he replies, his hands grabbing your waist, smoothing his thumbs over your skin. “You’re more beautiful than the Diathim.”
Your eyebrow raises. “You’re saying I’m prettier than an angel?”
“Songs should be sung of your beauty—there’s nothing that compares in the entire galaxy.” He says it with such conviction your breath hitches, taken aback by the look on his face telling you he means it.
“We should get married,” you blurt out.
“What…?”
“I want to marry you again and see your face when we say our vows.”
You’re fascinated by how you can see him visibly soften, his mouth turning up in a grin that reveals an adorable dimple, reaching his hand to cup your cheek.
“Will you marry me again?” he asks.
You’re matching his look, nodding as you say, “Yes!” Unable to keep yourself from leaning down to press your mouth to his, moaning when you taste yourself in the passionate kiss. His arms wrap around your back, hugging you close to him, losing yourselves for a minute in your happiness.
You’re panting when you break apart.
You’d wanted to take your time getting your mouth all over his body, but there’s a sudden need to have him inside of you—sitting up on your knees, you snake your hand between your bodies to take his cock in hand, pressing it to your aching entrance.
You moan in unison as you lower yourself on him, watching his face as his mouth falls open, his hands grabbing onto your hips, the thick girth of him stretching you open and filling you inch by glorious inch until your thighs meet, feeling so unbelievably full.
“Stars, you feel so good,” you breathe.
“Not as good as you feel.” His words come out strained, watching his throat work as he swallows hard.
You do an experimental roll of your hips, making his fingers tighten in your skin.
His eyes are on yours. “I want to see you come while I’m inside you,” he husks. “Can you do that? Can you use me to make yourself feel good?”
“Yes,” you answer, starting to move up and down, your hands on his chest for leverage.
You love having him inside you—the way he fits so perfectly, rubbing against all the right spots, joining you together.
His hands are on your body while you ride him, rubbing along your ribs and over your stomach, moving up to palm the weight of your breasts, tweaking your nipples, sending jolts straight to your pussy.
“Ride my cock, pretty girl,” Din says in a low rasp. “I love watching you—so beautiful. Use me.”
Adjusting your hips has him sliding into that sacred place that makes your head spin, rising and falling at a pace that’s slowly building you up and up.
Arousal is dripping out of you and down his shaft, allowing you to move with ease, Din’s eyes locked on your face, groans spilling from his throat, looking wrecked at you bouncing on him.
His cock is hot and hard inside you, lifting your hips and slamming your ass down, working yourself closer to your end.
It’s exhilarating to be able to see how good he feels and how much he’s enjoying himself. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes lust-blown, his forehead glistening with sweat.
“I know you’re almost there.” His words come out rough. “You gonna come for me? Gonna be my good girl? I know you can do it. Wanna watch you—wanna see you come, my love.”
“So close,” you pant.
You’re rising and falling, moans slipping from your lips, the knot in your belly winding tighter and tighter until it’s snapping, and you’re coming with a gasp of his name. Your eyes close as pleasure expands from your center, spreading through your body.
“So beautiful,” Din marvels in a groan. “Such a good girl. I love you—I love watching you.”
“I love you, too,” you breathe, your orgasm beginning to ebb.
A surprised sound comes from you when suddenly you’re jostled, Din groaning as he sits up, keeping you on him as he gets situated with you in his lap, spreading his legs on the bed for balance.
You’re now face to face, his hand gently cupping your cheek as his lips find yours, kissing you tenderly, his other arm wrapped around your back to hug you to him. You thread your fingers in his hair, melting into him, accepting his tongue when he deepens the kiss.
You’ve found you love kissing. There was something about it that was so intimate—sharing breaths, being so close, and tasting him.
His hair is so soft and thick, scratching your nails gently along his scalp and feeling him shiver beneath you.
His hands go to your ass, gripping it tight while he starts moving you in his lap, his lips still on yours.
“Want you close,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Need you close.”
You bounce up and down on his throbbing cock, your knees on either side of his hips helping you rise and fall, fucking yourself on him as you keep kissing.
His words are muffled against your lips, “You’re so beautiful, strong, fierce, loving, and good with the kid.” He moves you faster, using his strength to lift you, grunting in exertion. “I watched you tonight with him—I want more little ones.”
The thought makes you clench around him.
“Din,” you moan, feeling him smile.
“I want to raise more warriors with you,” he continues. “I want to father your children. I want to fuck a baby into you,” he groans, his cock twitching. You can tell he’s getting close as you breathe hard, your thighs burning deliciously. “I want to fill you up, fuck you full of me over and over until it takes.” His words have arousal curling in your gut and the familiar heat building at the base of your spine, bouncing up and down in his lap. “I want to see you round with my child. I want to have as many as you’ll allow. I want to fill the ship, then a house with our kids. I want to see you mother more of my children and sing them the songs of old. I want you, all of you.”
It all sounds so good, wanting the same, gasping, “Yes.”
“Can I?” he asks in a wrecked tone. “Can I fuck a baby into you? Can I get you pregnant? Please. Please, can I father your child?”
“Stars, yes,” you moan. “Please. I want one. Fill me up—keep me full.”
He groans loudly, kissing you hard, making you gasp in surprise when he tackles you onto your back on the mattress, his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, holding himself up on his forearms beside your head.
He starts moving fast, fucking into you with abandon to chase his high. The wet slap of skin on skin is sounding in the room, along with his grunts muffled by your mouth, filling you over and over, his thick cock pushing in so deep he’s kissing your womb.
You grab onto his broad shoulders, needing something to hang onto, digging your nails into his golden skin. The kisses are sloppy, the tension rising in your belly. His pace gets uneven until he pushes in one last time, going as deep as he can, coming with a ragged groan. You can feel him jerk inside you and the wet pulse as warmth fills your depths. He rocks his hips, moving a hand between your bodies to circle your clit, already so worked up that it doesn’t take much to have you cresting softly with a moan of his name. Your body tenses up, Din grunting as your cunt chokes his dick, working his spend even deeper inside you.
“That’s it,” he groans. “So good to me, my good girl.”
You’re both panting, and he moves his head to the crook of your neck, collapsing on top of you.
It makes you smile when you press your fingers into his sweat-damp hair; how soothing it is to just run your fingers through the brown waves and lightly scratch at his scalp, Din practically purring.
“That’s so nice.” He slurs.
“I like It, too.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
It’s comfortable as you both lie there, not caring about your sweaty bodies or his weight on you, just basking in the afterglow together.
It feels like you’re so close, neither of you would know where one ends and the other begins—so tangled up in each other it feels as though you’re one—one body, one heart, one soul.
Minutes pass in silence, Din groaning as he moves to get up, kneeling between your spread legs. His eyes are locked on where you’re connected, hissing when he pulls himself out of you. Your eyes widen when his fingers catch some of his come that’s dripped out of you, moaning when he pushes it back inside.
“Don’t want to waste a drop,” he says. “Can you keep it inside, my love?”
“Yes,” you breathe.
He smiles.
“Thank you.”
His hand leaves you watching in interest as he pushes the digits between his lips, sucking them clean with a groan. They leave his mouth with a pop, his gaze on yours.
“I’ll never tire of how good you taste.” He says.
“I feel like you’re going to be insatiable.” You tease.
He smiles, and you love it so much that you wish to see it every day for the rest of your life.
“I’m already insatiable.”
“Yes, you are.” You reply with the same look on your face.
Quickly he’s off the bed and coming back with a warm wet cloth, gently wiping you down and cleaning himself up, it getting tossed to the floor when he’s done.
He pulls you to lay correctly on the bed in his arms with your heads cushioned by pillows, facing him.
The lights are still on, and you just stare into each other's eyes, losing yourself in his dark pools, him smiling softly under his mustache.
“I’m so happy to know your face,” he whispers, his big hand sliding along your cheek. “I love you.”
“I’m happy to know your face, too,” you say just as softly. “The face of the man I love, who will father my children.”
He smiles brightly, his eyes crinkling adorably at the edges, leaning in to kiss you.
There’s light banging heard at the door that can only be made by tiny fists, Din and you separating immediately with wide eyes.
“Were we too loud?” You whisper.
Din grimaces, answering, “Maybe?”
You’re both moving immediately, jumping out of bed and tugging on your clothes, the air in the room tinged with sex. At least the kid chose to wake up after you’d finished. It was always incredibly awkward when he interrupted during.
The two of you look disheveled, Din’s hair a mess on top of his head, and his cheeks tinted pink.
“Go wash your hands and face,” you tell him. “I’ll get him.” Neither of you bothered putting on your helmets, your husband heading for the en suite, while you made it to the door, disengaging the lock and opening it.
You’re smiling as you look down at the child, him staring up at you with a weird look on his face.
“Hey, buddy,” you say, and his eyes get big, him babbling something pointing at your head. It makes you laugh. “It’s okay,” you reassure, leaning down to pick him up. He’s staring at you, his big eyes somehow bigger. “This is what I look like under the helmet.” His little clawed hand reaches out, pressing it to your cheek as he coos, and it warms your heart.
“Hey, you little womp rat,” Din’s warm voice says as he enters the room, you turning so the kid can see him. The child is babbling up a storm, holding his arms out, and Din chuckles, taking him as soon as he’s within reach. “Did we wake you up?” he asks. “We were just, uh, sparring, yeah, we were sparring, there’s nothing you need to worry about.” The kid is looking at him in wonder, reaching to touch Din’s cheek, the man smiling. “Yeah, I’m not wearing my helmet.” The child looks at you and back at Din, chattering up a storm.
“I think he’s confused.” You tell your husband.
“Yeah, I think he is.” His attention goes back to the kid in his arms, rubbing his back, speaking in a soft tone, “Hey, it’s okay, buddy.” The child goes silent as he listens. “There, uh, were those other Mandalorians who took off their helmets, and we decided to do the same. Everything’s okay. It’s still us.” He’s cooing again, patting Din’s cheek, making his dad chuckle. “It’s my face.” The kid yawns. “You ready to go back to bed?”
You’re already moving toward the mattress, taking off the top blanket, tossing it onto the floor, and pulling back the sheets.
Din walks over and gets in on the other side while still holding the child.
The boy ends up on Din’s chest, his tiny hand reaching up to rub the man’s earlobe while softly babbling—you crawl in next to your husband, resting your head on his shoulder, the lights turned off.
You’re beyond happy to know what the man you love looks like, and you can’t wait to add to your little family, rubbing a hand over your belly.
Your period is almost a month late, and you have a feeling it has nothing to do with stress.
Din was going to be ecstatic.
Masterlist
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#pedro pascal#Din djarin#Din djarin/reader#din djarin x reader#the mandalorian/reader#din djarin fanfiction#wheresarizona writes
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the individual intentions of the writers feels kind of secondary when talking about how reactionary the mandalorian has become, but if you wanted to be extremely generous about what’s going on, I think that the very simple and boring answer is that there is no financial incentive to care about what happens in the show anymore. Disney lost over a billion dollars on Disney+ last year, despite the wild success of the mandalorian and other D+ shows. I’m assuming the primary way they make money is off of mando and baby yoda merchandise - this would explain why the showrunners reunited both of them before the first episode of the third season even aired. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that the mandalorian now exists primarily to sell the mandalorian merchandise. it has become an advertisement for itself.
and this would explain a lot! It explains why virtually all of the narrative threads from the previous two seasons have either been dropped or quickly resolved. It explains the exponential increase in nauseating Star Wars references like “Han shot first” “it’s a trap” yoda doing backflips etc. It explains why Din has become something of a zombie, going through the motions without any particular motivation beyond whatever deranged escapade he and Bo-Katan get up to on a given week. There’s no point to caring because the only real pressure is getting eyes on the screen and selling more baby yoda stickers. This is why we went from an Ahsoka cameo in season 2 (an obvious ploy to launch another show but still somewhat reasonable for the story) to having Lizzo and Jack Black in season 3 (literally no narrative reason at all). Those celebrities are really popular and their inclusion in the show produces media headlines that combine their names with the mandalorian, optimising search engine results and presenting the opportunity to sell merchandise to Jack Black and Lizzo fans, even if they aren’t Star Wars fans.
but the shape of this not-caring takes on a particular political form in the show - its lack of care for politics doesn’t equally produce progressive and reactionary political conflict, it’s only reactionary. And one of the reasons for this is because I think a lot of pre-existing Star Wars canon, which this show is leaning more and more heavily on, is so politically fraught that using it without thinking about it produces reactionary narratives. I think this is a large reason why 3x03 was so deeply disturbing politically, because it was all set-up for the arrival of the First Order in the Sequel Trilogy. The show doesn’t seem to take any specific perspective on this aside from telling the audience that its all very ominous, but it’s only ominous because the First Order are established as the villains of the Sequels, not because the rise of fascism in a fictional world is a specific horror that Favreau wants to explore, and the reasons for its rise are extremely lazy, boiling down to “the government is too wrapped up in bureaucratic processes to care and too forgiving of the empire to notice.”
and two I think that in general, positioning your story in opposition to politics - not a specific set of political beliefs, just “politics” as a whole - also produces de facto reactionary narratives. the show is not espousing any positive beliefs about what an ideal world may look like, nor is it precise in its criticisms about what it believes to be the flaws that currently exist in the present day world. It’s just against bureaucracy in general, democracy in general, technology in general. and the show abdicates responsibility for taking a position on why it thinks any of these things are bad. Din dismissively scoffs “politics” in 3x06, perhaps the laziest possible admission that the show is not interested in exploring anything it considers political, and aims to position the characters as being outside of politics. but that itself is a reactionary position, to assume that presenting a “direct democracy” as an overly-decadent, hyper-tolerant society who is too scared to give cops guns but will arm citizens if their cultural “feelings” allow them to carry firearms as “not political.” Again to be way too overly generous, perhaps Favreau is attempting to wave in the general direction of current society and say wow doesn’t this suck! too much democracy produced trump, too much technology produced ipad babies, too much bureaucracy produced complicated tax forms. That’s still stupid and wrong but it’s at least not an openly fascist position. but when you don’t confront those things as political and just say “they suck” in a way that you believe to be outside of politics, the perspective you take is that of a reactionary. a refusal to confront what you consider political is itself a political position, one where you intentionally shrink your imagination of politics to, like, government employees who work at the government building, and everything outside of it is just “natural” society - or, in this case, deeply unnatural, perverted by politics. the only apparent solution for the political conflicts in the show is to scale back “the politics” that are preventing natural society from flourishing. That’s fucking reactionary! and like sorry to pull this card but the whole “I’m above politics” schtick has a pretty extensive history of appearing in fascist slogans, from Mussolini to fucking Alex Jones, a rallying cry that these people eternally get behind - “We’re above the Left-Right divide.” positioning yourself as above politics is itself a political act, one that has a lot of baggage that, by virtue of positioning yourself as being too good for politics, you will not engage with.
so like I don’t know if Favreau is “really” a reactionary. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter because his current cultural output is deeply reactionary. but I don’t think any of this is done with intentional malice. I think when you turn art into a purely financial instrument you produce art that is fascist by default, because its only goal is to concentrate financial and political power for the ruling class by appealing to “common man” interests like. fucking Star Wars!!!!!!
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I so agree with your statement about Season 3… I didn’t even finished it, it was too much. And the shippers here didn’t help either lmao. My boy needs no woman and certainly not an ex death watch.
He was doing fine till now, they made him look like a damsel in distress so SHE can save him, she can be a goddamn good girl… Like her past is erased from everyone minds? They have amnesia? And he became a second character in his own show?? Yup, no, call me when everything became normal again
I know it’s not technically canon yet but it reminds me a lot of when a character’s entire purpose is just to support their partner in a ship. Also people can ship what they want of course but in what way has anything between them been explicitly romantic in canon? They’ve just been working together on missions and barely talking about anything besides the matter at hand. I saw more desire for a relationship between Boba and Din than this. If they decide to suddenly say Bo and Din had feelings for each other the whole time in the two episodes we have left I’ll be so mad. Omera was Din’s obvious love interest if they were going to give him one, but no lets put him with the white terrorist lady who insulted his and others entire existence.
Also people forget that Din isn’t stupid. The fandom likes to make himbo jokes sure but Din is incredibly smart, he spent however many years working as a top rated bounty hunter, one of the most dangerous jobs in the galaxy, Din got beaten up all the time but he also had so many wins and badass moments, they balanced each other out so he wasn’t invincible but he wasn’t incompetent either. Most of Din this season is just him needing to be saved or aided by Bo-Katan so far, because apparently SHE is the Mandalorian everybody suddenly needs to use their brains or they’ll combust into flames or something I guess 🙄 and spoiler warning for the next episode under the cut.
So leaks say that Din gets captured by Moff Gideon at the end of the episode and Bo has to rally Mandalorians to go save him. Man how much more impactful would that be if Din was Manda’lor, Bo had the chance now to become it with him gone, but she actively chooses instead to help him after being bitter and aggressive towards him all season, thereby giving her growth that doesn’t actually mean turning her character back 180 out of nowhere. I like the idea of Din getting captured on its own and coming face to face with Gideon again but after he’s done literally nothing all season and has had no personality other than “help Bo”? That’s insulting af, Din just looks more and more helpless. Like again what if he was Manda’lor and trying to prove his worth both to Mandalorians and himself? We could have gotten a really cool scene where he questions his abilities as a father and as a leader, wondering if other types of Mandalorians would even come for him and ending the season with an episode about Din finally coming into his own with the darksaber while other Mandalorians rally behind him to defeat Moff Gideon once and for all.
But no. It’s probably gonna be a chance to display how Bo absolutely deserves another chance at ruling after proving nothing about how she is different from last time while Din is just there as bait and they’ll kiss or some shit afterwards. God this season has turned out so bad, I really am hoping they don’t go that route and make it somehow worse. I don’t blame people for hopping out now.
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I don’t think I really like how The Mandalorian has been MCUified if that makes sense
Like the first season was it’s own thing, Mando went to different places across the galaxy trying to hide some kid he found from remnants of the fallen empire, it was largely its own thing and helped make the Star Wars galaxy seem bigger for me. It also had its own characters that managed to be memorable and interesting. It was a unique take on Star Wars I wanted to see more of.
Then season 2 comes out, and it’s a bit larger scale wise. Mando’s gotta find another Jedi to fulfill his kid’s destiny, which brings him back to going around the galaxy finding leads on one of these Jedi folks. There are a lot of returning characters in this season; most of the surviving season one character show up for at least an episode, Mayfeld gets some damn good characterization as a former imperial after being a one-note asshole in season 1, Ashoka gets an episode to learn more about Grogu and set up her own show, Boba Fett is a looming presence until he actually shows up and fucks shit up, Bo Katan returns with her besties, and even Luke Skywalker is in this bitch. Now I don’t like cameos just for the sake of having them, but the legacy characters at least either have good reason or are done well. Ashoka needs setup for a show, Fett is finally given the chance to be cool as shit, and Bo Katan going from ruler of Mandalore in Rebels to just another pirate gives context to why Gus Fring has the Darksaber (Luke’s just kinda there to be there though). I wouldn’t like to need to watch Clone Wars and Rebels to know what the hell Ashoka, Bo Katan, or the Darksaber are if I didn’t already, but I feel they’re given just enough explanation to make sense without it. And all of it was tied up in an emotional ending with Mando and Grogu that payed off everything set up throughout the season and made the entire thing feel grounded. It was probably the best ending the show could’ve had. This was the last time I would feel this way.
When Book Of Boba Fett was announced at the end of Mando season 2, I was exited. I loved how Boba Fett was handled in Mando and hoped that the show would flesh him out better. It was then that the rug was pulled from under my feet. Like Fredrick Fitzgerald Fazbear coming down upon a poor night guard in the dead of night, I was jumped with the truth of this show. This wasn’t a show about Boba Fett. This was just a season of Mando they shoved Boba Fett on for more runtime.
Theatrics aside, BOBF was just really disappointing to me. The Boba Fett stuff was kinda garbage, they perfected his character in Mando as a brutal goddamn terminator man, then they went back and went “he doesn’t want to be a bounty hunter, he just wants to live peacefully as a crime boss or something” which felt really weird to me. The Flashbacks were also so fucking boring, they could’ve been shorted down to one episode and given more time to Boba. I praised Mando season 2 for both giving legacy characters purpose and explanation so you didn’t need to know what their deal was. But you see, I’m pretty sure Cathleen Kennedy read my complement on that, realized she fucked up by making a story that can stand on its own, used her fucking Disney witch magic to go back in time, and had the guy who worked on the writing for those episodes shot at point blank range because holy shit they fucking shattered the ball with Cad Bane.
The show makes a point of saying that Cad Bane and Boba had a history, and this confused me. They never specified what exactly this history was, so I looked through everything I could get my grubby mits on. I looked through every one of both Bane and Boba’s appearances in Clone Wars, checked comics with Bane, looked through all of the officially released media I thought could be a lead. Then I noticed something about Bane in BOBF, he had a metal plate on his head. This wasn’t much, but I thought it was something, so I went through his animated appearances one more time and noticed he had the same plate in The Bad Batch. This just made me more confused, so I checked around and found it. The “history” the show was referring too. See when they brought back Clone Wars for season 7 they took unfinished arcs and gave them new life, but some were left on the cutting room floor. I said “couldn’t find any officially released material” because what they were alluding too was an unfinished episode, you can even see the part where Bane gets shot in the head. The crux of Bane and Boba’s unfinished business was an unfinished episode that wasn’t even considered canon at that point.
This was my Joker arc.
This show was so lazy, so uncaring about making the story seem complete without supplementary material, that the only thing they did to give the main villain a connection with the hero was a vague allusion to an event that wasn’t even officially released. Could they not have cut some of the boring-ass shit in the desert to flesh out this relationship? Was it too much to ask for this show to get even close to how Mando used it’s legacy characters? Was it too much to ask for competence?
Besides that, I thought that it kinda fucked up the great ending I thought Mando season 2 had. I knew they weren’t gonna be separated for that long, but I would’ve liked them to be apart a bit longer, or have them reunite in their own show. Feel the same way about Mando’s new starfighter, I think it would’ve been less alienating to have him get that in the beginning of season 3
Speaking of season 3, it’s also kinda disappointing. I think the shift from Mando to Bo Katan was disappointing, it’s like what happened to Boba Fett with Mando ironically enough, but it’s still disappointing that in a world where it seems like almost every character is slated for their own show, Bo was shoved into Mando. I also think Gus Fring seems less intimidating, I feel him being a part of this “Shadow Empire” is less threatening than a warlord trying to bring about his own empire. It also has the same problem as BOBF where you need to know stuff beforehand. I don’t think they ever explicitly state Gideon carpet bombed Mandalore, they just kinda said it was cursed. I know it was mentioned in BOBF, but again I shouldn’t need to watch another show to understand what’s going on in this one. I’m not gonna go too long with this one since it’s not over yet, but I’m not sure it’ll fix my problems with this season.
Anyway my biggest takeaway from this is that I hate Book of Boba Fett way more than I first thought.
#star wars#the mandolarian#book of boba fett#first thing tomorrow I’m gonna punch Cad Bane in the back of the head
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Dance of the Mythosaur and Dragon (2/?)
Fandom: The Mandalorian, House of the Dragon
Pairing: Din Djarin / OC
Chapter: II (Din)
Word Count: 4,788 Words
Estimated Reading Time: 17:25
Previous | Next
Grogu shovels the pretzels laid out for him as Din and Bo sit across from each other. The meeting room is once again empty after a round of negotiations and debate. An informant has let them know that the Targaryens have departed from Westeros on their small starship bound for Mandalore.
Bo runs a hand through her hair in obvious exasperation. Din has yet again objected to the marriage.
“Tell them we will trade something else. There is no need for a marriage,” Din remarks.
Grogu makes a tiny Patuu as he gnaws on another pretzel stick. His eyes watch him intently. Either the Force is allowing him to feel Din’s frustration, or he is just attuned to his adoptive father after so long of knowing him. Eitherway, the kid seems to sense his unease and looks concerned.
“And trade what? Funds? Mandalore doesn’t have those to spare. Food? We can barely grow enough to keep our own citizens fed. Weapons? The other clans will not allow us to arm a foreign planet with our advanced weaponry especially when they are so close to war. Soldiers? No clan would volunteer its fighters to a planet it can’t even place on a map. Beskar? The creed believes that it is for our use only. What could we possible offer them that isn’t a marriage?” Bo leans back in her chair, “It’s all we have to barter. You are Mand’alor, but your position is not secure. Anyone could challenge you for the Darksaber. Quite a few clans are unhappy with your rule purely because they view you as an outsider. A marriage could-“
“A marriage to another outsider? Yeah, that will win them over,” Din rolls his eyes, “I wouldn’t mind handing the sword to another challenger. You know I never wanted this throne.”
The Darksaber feels too heavy on his hip. He doesn’t like the weight of it. Every time he pulls it free and ignites the blade, he can feel something unnatural and eerie whispering to him and luring him down a path he doesn’t want to follow.
Had his covert not demanded he take up the throne on their behalf, he would have handed it to Bo Katan and been done with it. Let her take her ancestral throne back and lead the ruins of Mandalore for all he cared. He was never meant for a life of ruling anything bigger than a squad of bounty hunter grunts.
Bo elects to ignore him.
“You need a wife to solidify your throne and a child to pass on rulership-“
A gloved hand points to Grogu with his cheeks stuffed full of pretzels.
“I have a son. Din Grogu.”
Din’s voice is a cold warning, tense. His creed does not recognize blood over chosen family. Mandalorians believe the children you adopt are just as much yours as the ones that share your genetics. To weigh one child over another simply because their blood is not yours is to reject the tenets of a true Mandalorian.
“Of course you do,” Bo protests, “But Grogu is fifty and still hasn’t said his first word! It will take him centuries to ever be ready to rule. You are not eternal, Din Djarin. You will die one day. You need another heir to take the Darksaber and rule Mandalore while Grogu grows. That is why it is necessary to marry this princess.”
A pause dwells in the air. Grogu chews thoughtfully and his gaze sweeps over them both. Din wonders not for the first time how much he understands. Maybe his mind is evolved leagues beyond his tiny body.
“It had to be a princess from a backwater, skughole planet? There weren’t any clans ready to sell off their daughters to you?” Din’s voice is gruff again.
Bo stands from her chair and walks over to the Holo. A few taps and a holo image of Westeros is projected between them. The photos are blurry and unfocused.
“How much do you know about Westeros? Or the Targaryen dynasty?”
Nothing.
Din had never heard of any of it before the idea of a marriage contract had first been floated towards them.
“Westeros is an isolationist planet*. Isolationist planets are planets that never joined the Republic pre-Empire or any other galactic government body. Westeros was discovered during the establishment of the Targaryen rule. The ruler back then, Aegon the Conquerer, met with a representative of the Republic. When the planet was discovered, it was offered that they join the Republic and have access to all of our technology. Aegon the Conqueror refused.”
Another tap on the screen brings up a contract. The top part is both in Aurebesh and the same weird symbols from before. The title reads TREATY OF PERMANENT ISOLATION AND COMPLETE SILENCE FOR PLANETARY INDEPENDENCE FROM THE HIGH REPUBLIC. A mouthful if there ever was one.
“The Isolation Treaties, or the Lone Planet Accords, are treaties the Republic agreed to with planets who didn’t want to join the galaxy. The rules state that those planets must never interfere in galactic governance or trade or contact outside planets. In exchange, they are completely independent and do not need to obey Republic laws. Westeros is one of them. Aegon the Conqueror wanted his planet to be free from any outside rule and wanted to preserve the integrity of his line. If he joined the Republic, he would have had to bend to their laws and allow non-humans into his planet where they would ‘taint the bloodline’ as he claimed. For centuries Westeros has been completely closed off and its people outside of the royal family have no clue life outside their planet exists. The only connection they have to the outside world is a singe starship the Republic gave them centuries ago merely for emergencies or renewals of the treaties-“
“Then how did they agree to this contract now?” Din leans back in his chair. He’s never been one to trust easily. For an isolationist planet to suddenly break its treaty now…
“When the Republic fell, the Empire claimed it would continue to honor the Isolationist Treaties. That was a lie, of course, the Empire never honored its oaths. No doubt they would have begun invading isolationist planets had they not been too preoccupied with the Rebellion and their other genocides, but those planets remained without contact during its rule. But when the empire fell, the treaties ended too. The New Republic has already said they will reissue the treaties as soon as they are able to, but they are busy rebuilding. It will take them a few years to catch up. For now, Westeros is free to contact the outside planets while it waits for a renewal. That presented a great opportunity.”
A tap on the screen brings up more blurry images of dragons. A satellite somewhere far away from Westeros has taken imaging of the Targaryen dragons. With how far the photos were taken, the image looks like nothing more than blurry colored outlines across stretches of land.
“Westeros is controlled by the Targaryen dynasty. They are dragon riders. Their blood is special and allows them alone to control these beasts. Legends say they are descended from the very dragons themselves. Their blood would have made them prime targets for the Empire had it had time to invade their planet. We don’t need to do that. The Targaryens are fiercely protective of their dragons and blood. They practice incest to keep their bloodlines strong and their dragons within their family. A marriage to an outside planet has never been done before, but the expiration of the treaties gives us the perfect advantage. If you marry their princess, your children will have Targaryen blood. They will control dragons and protect Mandalore. The imperial remnants and any enemies who would invade our planet would think twice if they heard the roar of a Targaryen dragon.”
Din thinks of the Krayt dragon he fought ages ago. That beast had not been controllable. He doubts any wild animal can truly be controlled. Perhaps the Targaryens are con artists using fear to keep their citizenry at bay.
“They won’t give us their dragons. They’ll go back on their word once we send them fighters-“
“They have agreed to give us the dragon that belongs to their princess. Your future bride rides the Cannibal. It is the largest dragon in their planet previously untamable. Princess Daenys did what no one could before at a young age. She tamed it. The beast answers only to her. King Viserys Targaryen has agreed to gift us the dragon as his daughter’s dowry. Any eggs it lays will also belong to Mandalore.”
A blurry image of a dragon takes over the screen. It is a fearsome thing with scales black as midnight and green eyes. In the picture, it has something in its mouth. The image is too blurry to make out whatever it is.
“The Cannibal is a treasure. It is the largest dragon known in Westeros and the most feared. It’s called the Cannibal because it has devoured other dragons before. If Princess Daenys can control it, ride it in battle, then Mandalore will have a very powerful weapon. All it takes is a marriage-“
“And our soldiers. You said this planet is about to destroy itself in a civil war. They want our aid in exchange. How do you propose we do that? You said our warriors will never leave for a foreign battle. We can’t give them the aid we promised-“
Bo waves her hand dismissively.
“That is an issue for another time. For now, my priority is restoring Mandalore to its height. This alliance will give us what every other planet could never imagine having access to. Targaryen blood.”
Grogu hops on the table and peers at the image of the Cannibal. He makes little noises as he tilts his head every which way to analyze it.
Din stands from the table and scoops Grogu up, “Mandalorians can stand alone. We don’t need some spoiled brat with inbred blood and a cannibalistic lizard to fight our battles-“
“You haven’t even met her,” Bo hisses, “Our accounts say she’s lovely. Why don’t you at least wait until their ship arrives here before you decide to demand that they leave? Maybe she is exactly what this planet needs-“
The door closes behind Din hiding whatever else Bo was in the midst of saying. Grogu reaches a tiny hand for Din’s helmet as his ears drop.
“Don’t worry, kid, I don’t intend to let any of this happen. I’ll send those people packing myself if I have to.”
———————————————
“You know, you might just be the only guy in existence who is told he will marry a beautiful Princess half his age and be upset about it,” Peli huffs. She scans her hand of Sabacc as her droids toss more credits in the pile. From where he is, Din can tell it’s a bad hand.
Grogu paces around Peli’s shop as Din gets to work fixing up his ship using her tools.
He’s fled Mandalore for a bit and gone to Tatooine. Bo hadn’t been happy when he had announced he was leaving, but even she knew Din needed a distraction. If he had to sit through another meeting listening to other people plan out his life with no input from him, he’d take the Darksaber and slit his own throat.
A spark from the ship makes him curse. The electric charge has torn open his glove and his finger aches.
“I never wanted to marry,” he keeps his voice firm as he shakes his hand in pain.
Peli tosses another credit to the table and smacks a droid that tries to scan her cards.
“And I never wanted that Jawa I dated that one time to dump me in an actual dump pile, but life happens. A lot worse could happen than being told you’re going to marry royalty. Maker, some people would give up their soul for a trade like that-“
“Well they can have my treaty,” Din growls out, “And this laser sword while I’m at it.”
Din wishes Paz had won the sword when he challenged him all that time ago. He should have just feigned losing the duel just to be rid of it. Paz could have ruled Mandalore and married the foreign princess. Why did he have to bring all these troubles on his shoulders?
Grogu sits on Peli’s lap and rolls a credit chip in his tiny hand. Peli tosses her cards aside and a busted up droid chirps in glee as it uses its claw to rake in the credits on the table.
“Whaddaya think, kid? Don’t you want to meet the pretty Princess?” She directs the question at Grogu. Grogu makes a series of noises in response. Peli nods as if she understands, “See? Kid is happy.”
Din kicks off from underneath his ship and tosses the tool in his hand at a workstation. His ship needs a few more repairs to keep running as fast as it has. In his mind, he runs a mental catalogue of all the parts it needs replacing and how much it will set him back.
“I told myself I’d never marry. We’re a clan of two, not three.”
Peli shrugs and shuffles out another hand. This one is better than the last. She shovels some more credits at the pile and protests when a droid offers up a tiny piece of its circuitry.
“Oi, it’s gonna take a lot more than that you, pile of rust. Toss in that leg of yours if you wanna participate in this hand,” she points a finger at the droid which chirps out a series of binary Din guesses isn’t appropriate, “Look, there are bigger problems in the world than marrying a pretty girl, Mando. You prolly never thought you’d get this little one either yet here he is. The Maker has a way of giving us what we need when we need it. Who knows? Maybe a year from now you’ll be happily married and won’t be able to imagine life without that princess of yours.”
Din makes a sound at the back of his throat. He doubts it.
He’s long ago accepted that he was never meant for anything more than one night stands and brothels. A man with as much blood as him, one who can’t show his face, and is already married to his creed isn’t meant for princesses coming from a life of wealth and splendor. That girl will take one look at Mandalore’s warriors and their bloody armor and faint.
“Believe me, the marriage will never go through. That girl will board her ship and run away as soon as she arrives in Mandalore. Then I’ll tell Bo Katan I’ll never agree to another arranged marriage and tell her Paz’s son is my next heir.”
Peli wins the next round and Grogu raises his hands in celebration. The droid now missing a leg beeps out some more binary and awkwardly hops away in a fit of anger. Peli huffs and calls him a sore looser.
“I wanna invite to the wedding, Mando. What good is a King for a client if it doesn’t come with perks?” She stands up and shoves the credits into her pockets. Grogu wanders back over to Din.
“I’m not a King,” Din argues, “I’m a leader. Not the same.”
A king, he knows, is an absolute ruler. His word is law and his people must obey. The Mand’alor is not like that. His rule is reliant on the sword on his hip for validity and the will of the Mandalorians to accept him. At any point, anyone could challenge him and take the throne.
Peli ignores him as she shoves him out of the way. He’s made a mess of her tools. She disappears under his starfighter and begins to complain about the state of the once beautiful ship she helped him build. Din forgets his protests as he joins her underneath the ship and takes a tool from her as they get to work on repairs. His problems can wait.
———————————————
A tablet is handed to him as he walks down the halls of the palace. Bo has compiled a list of all the information she has on Westeros. Din scans it with boredom as he walks side by side with her.
“Prince Daemon will negotiate the marriage on behalf of King Viserys. Westeros has its own customs on marriage. Originally he wanted a Valyrian wedding ceremony, but I talked him down. Your creed forbids you removing your helmet and their marriage ceremony would involve everyone seeing your face. We managed to agree on a Westerosi tradition. I already hired someone to make you a cloak.”
Din taps through a series of documents scanning its contents as Bo begins to huff when she recalls Daemon has refused to write his correspondence in Aurebesh. Her negotiations are taking longer the more she needs to translate his letters.
His focus goes to the tablet. The Westerosi wedding involves a cloak with his insignia being wrapped around his wife’s shoulders to demonstrate he is now responsible for her well-being. A note from the tailor hired claims his Mudhorn signet and the Mythosaur will be used for the cloak. His Armorer has even agreed to make him a Beskar clasp for the cloak and will incorporate the shape of a dragon in regards to his wife.
“And the wedding?” He passes the tablet back to her. The entire thing is one big headache after another.
“It will happen as soon as possible. The Targaryens cannot leave their planet for long. Prince Daemon has his own wedding to get to. He will be marrying Princess Rhaenyra after the death of her husband.”
Din thinks back to the family tree he had been made to read the night before.
“Isn’t that his niece?” His voice is dry, disgusted.
Bo makes a sound, “Keep the bloodline pure, remember? In any case, there are preparations we have to do before the ceremony. Princess Daenys will have to learn Aurebesh and some ways of life of Mandalore. We will need to negotiate with Prince Daemon what the marriage will entail and what title Daenys will take. There isn’t an official title for the spouse of a Mand’alor, but Daenys is a Princess. Her birth demands a level of respect we can’t ignore. We also have to negotiate some other things. Westeros is primitive…they have one starship they haven’t updated since the first contact with their planet. That means Princess Daenys won’t be able to visit her home planet or get many messages across. We will have to provide them a new starship with more advanced technology. We don’t have many of those to spare. Plus, we need to discuss what will happen with the Cannibal. Westeros has its own keepers which are tasked with feeding its beasts and keeping their eggs secure. We have no clue how to accomplish this. They offered to let some keepers stay on the planet with us, but the idea of outsiders I can’t vet for their allegiance isn’t exciting. I’d much rather we have our own troops learn how to manage the dragons.”
They enter the forge where the Armorer is at work. Sparks fly as she hammers out a special clasp for his cloak. He can already make out the shape of a dragon. It’s an imitation of the painting of the dragon gifted to them some time ago. The clasp has a dragon on the left roaring with fire flowing out of its maw and the Mudhorn on the right poised to strike with its big horn.
A special new signet meant to show the unification of the Targaryen and Djarin clans. Din suspects he will have to replace his shoulder pauldron once the marriage goes through. Grogu will also have to replace his chest piece once his wife adopts him as her own.
“The new signet will be ready soon,” the armorer doesn’t look up as she works, “The Djarin clan will expand by one. I added the Targaryen dragon as a sign of respect towards Princess Daenys’ royal blood.”
The foreign words sound strange on her tongue. Din watches the figure slowly appear on the Beskar. The Mudhorn darkens as more details bloom across the surface.
“We will also need armor,” Bo remarks, “The Princess will need to take the creed with time. Westeros might forbid its women from fighting, but Mandalore needs a warrior at its helm.”
“If she chooses to take the creed, I will take her measurements and forge her armor. Until then, we do not have the Beskar to spare,” the Armorer finishes the clasp. She holds it up for their inspection.
It’s a nice work of craftsmanship. Din can appreciate it even if he isn’t thrilled at the idea of changing his clan’s symbol. The Cannibal has been replicated exactly as it is on the painting.
She turns around and begins to cool off the piece. Soon, it will be shipped off to the tailor for it to be added to the cloak. Bo has shown him rough sketches of it already. It’s a silver, heavy thing meant to mimic Beskar. It will wrap around his fiancée’s shoulders during the wedding ceremony and replace the crimson Targaryen cloak she will wear.
“You will memorize the Targaryen wedding vows and your bride will memorize the Mandalorian vows in Mando’a. The Westerosi traditions will be done in public. The Mandalorian ones will be kept private,” the armorer calls over her shoulder, “Only once you two have pledged the Mandalorian vows can you remove your helmet. As husband and wife, she will be allowed to see your face.”
Din presses his lips together. He had forgotten all about that tradition too. A sense of unease spreads through him.
He’s never been one to care about his appearance, had always imagined no one would ever see him except for Grogu and imps at the base, but now he feels nervous. He isn’t young anymore and he doubts he’s handsome. What will happen when his new bride sees him? Will she be able to hide her disgust? Cry? Race after her unclebrother in law and demand to return to Westeros?
He crosses his arms in front of his chest and pushes the thoughts aside. It doesn’t matter, he thinks, better for him if she runs away screaming.
The water hisses angrily as the burning clasp is dumped in. The armorer holds it steady until it cools. Once it’s finally done, she drops it into some fabric to cool it off.
“When you took the Darksaber, you promised you would place the needs of this planet over your own. Was your oath false, Din Djarin?” The armorer lifts her head to peer at him.
He immediately straightens up.
“No.”
A firm, resolute answer.
He meant every word of that creed as much as he had the first oath he swore when he put on his helmet for the first time. He may not have wanted his throne, but he had accepted the title when his covert had asked him to take the helm. They needed a voice in Mandalore. With Bo’s faction of helmetless Mandalorians ruling, the worry was that his covert would be closed off from the planet. In order to unify both clans, he had accepted the responsibility of wielding the saber and ruling them both.
The armorer regards him quietly from her place at the forge, Bo turns to him as well.
“Then marry this foreign princess and solidify your rule. Raise warriors with her and let them mount the dragons that will fly over Mandalore. This is your sacrifice,” the armorer’s voice carries across the room,“This is the way.”
“This is the way,” he and Bo respond back.
The words taste like ash in his mouth.
———————————————
A line of Mandalorians forms outside Mandalore. Din stands tall with the Darksaber on his hip. His armor has been polished until it gleams and the new signet on his shoulders catches the light of the sun.
The heavy cloak fashioned for him has replaced his old cape. It’s a long, silver cloak which drags when he walks and has the Beskar clasp at the front with the new insignia. It matches the color of his Beskar perfectly and has a regal air that has made quite a few others stare. Even little Grogu had made a sound of surprise when he first saw it around his shoulders.
The procession is waiting. A transmission had arrived last night announcing that the Targaryen starship was close. Bo Katan had sent some of her men to meet them half way and guide them back to Mandalore. Their old model ship traveled too slow for their taste and their hyperspace was weak.
Some time late in the morning, the ship had been spotted in their radars. Axe Woves, piloting the second ship, had announced they were both close. He claimed the Targaryens wanted to ride their dragons as soon as it was safe to disembark from their ship. They had brought three with them although only one would remain.
Din knows it’s a show of strength. They wish to brag about their beasts and show Mandalore why they were chosen for an alliance. Still, his warriors seem intrigued having never seen a dragon in person.
Bo raises a hand to her helmet receiving another transmission. She motions for Din to get closer.
“They’ve broken through the atmosphere. The ship will hover to allow the dragons to disembark. Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon are at the front. Princess Daenys will bring up the rear.”
She nudges Din to stand up straight. He adjusts the cloak on his shoulders and grips the Darksaber in one hand.
The morning is quiet and some of the Mandalorians shuffle their feet. Bo uses her helmet to see up into the clouds to spot the dragons.
Some more time passes before finally she makes a sound. Dark shapes emerge from the clouds. He spots two of them right off the bat.
One dragon has a long neck and travels at a rapid speed. The second is the color of burnished gold and flies next to the first dragon. They are the first to break through the clouds and their form casts a wide shadow.
Despite himself, Din widens his eyes. All this time he had been imagining a Krayt dragon. To see these dragons in flight is something astonishing.
But the third dragon completely blows the other two away. A large shadow blocks out the sun as it emerges from the clouds. This dragon is massive, towers over them all, and his scales are blacker than oil. He opens his mouth and a fearsome roar shakes the very ground they stand on.
Din is rooted to the spot with his eyes trained on the third dragon. This is the Cannibal, he realizes. The wild dragon only one person in history has been able to tame. A shiver runs down his spine and he isn’t sure whether it’s one born from awe or shock.
The first two dragons touch down first in the space allotted for them. Prince Daemon hops off in full armor and waits for his niece. Princess Rhaenyra dismounts in a dress that looks more expensive than anything he has ever seen before. The two of them survey the crowd quietly.
Behind them, the Cannibal lands with a blow that shakes the ground. Some of the Mandalorians make stunned noises. Those closest to the landing area tense as if waiting for the dragons to strike.
It takes a moment for Din to see his bride. The towering form of the Cannibal hides her from view as she dismounts. When the beast finally lowers itself to allow her to safely get off, he sees her.
She’s dressed in a red gown the color of blood. A three headed dragon made of black gems is stitched across the front of the dress. Her hair is whiter than snow and pinned in an elaborate hairstyle at the top of her head. Her eyes are the color of rare gems.
He lets outs out a breath.
“Beautiful,” he hears himself say. He’s stunned at his own admission and clacks his mouth shut to keep himself from speaking out again. Thankfully, no one seems to have heard him.
Bo jumps into action. She turns her head sideways, helmet trained on his, and nods at the Targaryens slowly walking forward.
“Come,” she orders, “let’s meet your new bride.”
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I’m still fascinated by fandom’s reaction to Din Djarin’s name. There’s so much insistence that this is a retcon, and we have fans adamantly insisting that they’re not going to use it in their fic (which is their choice, but why so passionate?), and many others bending over backwards to explain how “Din” might be his given name but still pass down to Grogu.
It just seems like a weird thing to get worked up about. Most of us have watched anime, or K-Dramas, right? Last name first really isn’t that weird.
I assumed Djarin was his family name too, I admit. But it’s not like the show ever said it was. His parents were not named. Hell, HE wasn’t named until the last episode of season 1.
I did see a few people say things like “Well, why did Fennec call him Din, then?” and similar arguments. I wondered the same thing, honestly, so I thought it’d be interesting to look at the transcripts. So I did!
This is what I found:
Obviously the only time Din’s name comes up in season 1 is in the finale, Moff Gideon is the one who tells us his actual name: “Din Djarin”. (Interestingly, Din comments that he hadn’t heard the name in years, even though he then tells Cara and company to use his name to identify themselves to the covert. The Armorer also calls him “Din Djarin”.)
Fascinatingly, the name doesn’t come up at ALL in season 2, as far as I’ve been able to find. Not even when he meets Boba Fett or Bo-Katan Kryze.
We do hear his name in Boba Fett. This is primarily in the season with the Armorer in Return of the Mandalorian. She calls him “Din Djarin” each time. Fennec Shand is the only other person to use his name, and that’s once, when introducing him to the others in “From the Desert, Comes a Stranger”. She calls him “Din Djarin, the Mandalorian.”
That’s all I can find, prior to season 3. His name comes up maybe five or six times in two series. And each time, it’s his full name. “Din Djarin.” No one uses just one or the other, and at no point is there ever an indicator as to which is his family name and which is his given name. Heck, maybe none of them are and next season we’ll find out his full name is “John Din Djarin” after all.
Now his name comes up a lot more in season 3. Even then though, the characters who use it (the Armorer and Paz Viszla) call him “Din Djarin” each time. I wonder if that’s like having your mother use your full name when you’re in trouble. I’d imagine Din gets in trouble a lot.
So the shippers might love or hate this, depending on their pairing of choice, but there is one character who calls Din Djarin by only part of his name, and that is Bo-Katan Kryze. Bo-Katan calls him “Din” exactly four times in season 3.
She calls him Din three times in Mines of Mandalore, to ask if he’s all right. And once in the Pirate, wanting his coordinates. She’s never called him Djarin.
The interpretation of those could go either way, I think. The context of her use of Din in the Mines of Mandalore seem more like the kind of situation where you’d use someone’s given name, but they’re still acquaintances at best., so she may be more comfortable using his surname.
They’re closer friends by the Pirate, so it’d definitely be natural to use Din’s given name, but it’s also a tactical kind of situation, where a lot of folks default to surname.
(I personally like @opinions-about-tiaras suggestion that Bo-Katan THINKS Din is his given name and he’s never said otherwise, because he’s Like That.)
So I guess, ultimately, I’d argue that this isn’t a retcon, because there was never any real continuity established with regard to Din’s name and family. “Clan Djarin” was always fanon, based on assumptions we made about our own norms and what we saw of the Mandalorians in general.
But Din wasn’t born Mandalorian, and Mandalorians are definitely not a monolithic culture, so...there you go.
No one liked the name “Grogu” at first either. We’ll all get used to it.
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Time is a social construct pt. 21
Mandalorian Time Travel AU
Summary: Din is trying his best, ok? But between trying to find a teacher for his magic kid and learning there were other Mandalorians who follow a different creed, Din is very confused and lost. So when he ends up on a plant that his HUD says is Manda’yaim and encounters two teens on the run from a group of dar’mandas called Death Watch, Din figures he may as well help them. He never meant to adopt them. Or become Mand’alor.
Masterlist
<Back/Next>
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Din knew this conversation was coming- had known it since Satine pointed out his accidental ‘ade.’ That doesn’t mean he was prepared for it. But when Satine had all but pulled him away after the meeting adjourned, Din was helpless to follow after her. At least the girl didn’t look angry as he led him through the hallways and into her and Bo-Katan’s rooms. Sitting at their private dining table were Bo-Katan, Obi-wan, and Grogu. Din felt an itch in his hands, having never been comfortable being cornered. This, of course, wasn’t a typical situation where he was cornered, but the ade’s faces made it clear he wasn’t leaving until they had all talked.
Satine sat next to her sister at the round table, leaving Din to sit in the remaining seat. It had a good view of the door to the hall, which Din appreciated. Obi-wan quickly passed Grogu over, and his ad happily snuggled into Din’s arms. Din stroked his fingers softly over Grogu’s ears as he waited for someone to speak.
Satine lightly cleared her throat. “So, we are here to discuss a situation that caught us all by surprise-“
“Don’t treat this like one of your meetings,” Bo-Katan cut her sister off. The younger girl turned to Din. “You referred to us as your ‘ade.’” It wasn’t a question, but Din nodded anyway. “Did you mean it?”
“Bo-“ Satine tried to calm her sister. But Bo-Katan continued on.
“No, he said it. He either meant it or not,” Bo-Katan said firmly, turning back to stare at Din. “So?”
Din took a breath, patting Grogu’s head when the child cooed. Din allowed himself to sweep his eyes over the table. Bo-Katan was frowning, but Din could see the tears forming in her eyes. Satine was also looking at Din, but her feelings about the situation were hidden. Obi-wan wasn’t looking at Din, staring at his hands clasped in his lap. Din wondered if Jinn had talked to him and how that conversation went.
“I-“ Din cleared his throat, voice hoarse. It didn’t help, but the action afforded him another moment before he had to speak. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Bo-Katan opened her mouth as if to yell- like to rave about Din’s audacity; she and Satine had just lost their buir, and Obi-wan was a Jetii! They never asked for any parental figure, much less from Din, a man from the future whom they had met less than two weeks ago! Satine would undoubtedly back her sister up, if not more gently. Obi-wan would add that Din had done an excellent job preparing them to stop his horrific future, but with his talents, there wasn’t much more he could do. Satine might offer him credits, maybe a ship, so he and Grogu could go start their new, hopefully improved, lives. Din needed to be out of the palace by the end of the day.
It was what Din had figured would happen as he ran scenario after scenario through his mind during the remainder of the meeting. He hadn’t been able to come up with any good ideas as to what he’d do- his skills lay firmly with bounty hunting, but in this time, he didn’t have the reputation he once had with the Guild. Sure, Satine had managed to get him an official ID again, so Din could theoretically start anew with the Guild, but it would be a pain. Besides, was that what he actually wanted? He had Grogu to think about, and while he had been able to balance caring for the kid and hunting, it hadn’t been easy. They were criminals now, weren’t being hunted. They could settle down. Maybe find a Mandalorian clan open to a traditionalist and his magic son. Din could teach the kids how to shoot, hunt, or whatever.
But regardless of the consequences, Din couldn’t lie to himself anymore. He had found himself growing fond of these kids- even though they were technically older than him and that Din was like 75% older Bo-Katan had wanted to kill him at some point. It was weird and made his head hurt. But the fact of the matter was that these kids were some of the only people he knew in this time. Din didn’t know what to do if he had to leave them. The worry alone might kill him.
“Patuu?” Grogu’s voice broke Din out of his thoughts, the gentle smack to his helmet accenting the noise. Grogu was standing on his toes in Din’s lap, eyes wide. Din muttered reassurances to his ad.
“Sorry, I got lost in thought.”
“You keep apologizing,” Obi-wan pointed out. Din looked at him and shrugged, biting back another apology. He didn’t want to upset them- it was a new sentiment that Din had gained. Because Din used to never care how other people saw him. But for these kids, Din didn’t think he could handle it if they thought bad of him.
Din glanced over at Satine and Bo-Katan and saw the older girl wrapping an arm around her sister. Great, Din had made Bo-Katan cry. Now there was no way Satine would let him stay.
“Please don’t cry, Bo,” Din rasped. Grogu cooed again, looking torn between comforting his buir and Bo-Katan.
“You don’t get to say you see us as your kids and then apologize for it!” Bo-Katan shouted, whipping her tears away as if they’d personally offended her. “Own up to it!”
Satine tried to calm her sister down, but she kept staring at Din in challenge. Din didn’t want to know what the girl would do if he failed to act. So Din took a deep breath and said, as steadily as he could, “I have, accidentally, found myself thinking of the three of you as my ade.”
Bo-Katan slumped back into her seat. Obi-wan sounded almost like he’d been punched, and Satine bit her lip. Satine lightly said, “I’m sure you understand our hesitance….”
“You just lost your buir,” Din said and nodded to Obi-wan, “and you still have your Jetii buir. I know. Trust me. I know.”
Satine nodded. “I think this is something the two- the three of us,” Satine corrected as she looked at Obi-wan (who looked reminiscent of a kicked Tooka), “should talk about.” When Din didn’t move, she raised a brow at him. “Alone. Please.”
“Oh right, yeah, I got it,” Din muttered as he stood up. Grogu slapped his arm.
“He wants to stay here for this,” Obi-wan translated. So Din set Grogu down on the table. “We can call you when we’re done?”
“Ok. Just don’t forget to eat late meal.” The reminder slipped past Din’s lips before he realized that was maybe too much of a buir thing to do in this circumstance. The kids just smiled, so he left it at that and left the room.
Din didn’t move immediately when he stepped into the hallway. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop- no, he was just confused and lost. Din started walking, trusting his feet to take him somewhere safe. He made it to his rooms and was pretty sure that he had passed Dooku at one point. The older man had looked concerned, but he didn’t stop Din.
Din found himself sitting on his bed as he took his helmet off. He looked at his warped reflection as his mind raced.
Din was confused. He was lost. He’d been a great bounty hunter, traveling the galaxy's outer edges with his ward. Now, he was fifty years in the past and in the middle of what was shaping to be a new political movement. The ability to prevent millions of deaths was in his hands. And here he was, freaking out about where some teenagers he’d met a few weeks ago were mad at him. Din set his helmet to the side so he could bury his face in his hands as he hunched over his knees. His fingers wound into his hair- he needed a haircut- and tugged slightly as if trying to pull away his thoughts. It was unsuccessful.
Because Din was scared. In their time, there had been dangers- rouge Imps, greedy bounty hunters, and the occasional beast. But now they were being threatened by other Mandalorians, dar’jetii, and the looming threat of war. And what the hell was Din going to do? Fight his way through it like every problem he’d encountered before? Even with his pure beskar armor and spear, Din was no match for a terrorist group and magical beings. And what if he did stop these things? What new threat would arise? Din didn’t know every last detail about the Clone Wars and what preceded it. There were bound to be things, people, and events he would miss that would spiral into something worse.
Where was Din’s place in the galaxy? Before, he was secure in his place- he was the provider of his clan and then later of Grogu. Now, he was a bodyguard for a Duchess who, given certain plans played out well, wouldn’t need him anymore. That would leave Din and Grogu alone in the universe.
Surely, Din thought with some panic, there was someone better suited to all of this that the Manda, or the Force, or whatever could’ve shot back in time. Like Tano or hell, even one of those Rebellion people.
Din choked on a sob, his chest aching. That pain, plus the sting of him pulling his hair, pulled him out of his downward spiral. He was crying, heaving, and rasping breaths escaping him. His chest felt tight- crying with armor on was never pleasant.
Ok Din, get your osik together.
5 things you see: the floor, the bedspread, his fingers, the ornate wallpaper, his knees
4 things you can feel: the ache in his chest, wetness on his face, stinging of his scalp, the weight of his beskar
3 things you can hear: his hitching breath, the whirl of the temperature control system, someone speaking beyond the door-
What?
Din tried to focus on that last sound and finally made out a frantic voice accompanied by knocking. “Din? Din, please let us in!”
That was Satine! She sounded scared.
Without a second thought, Din bounded to his door, mind whirling with reasons why she was here- was she in danger? Was Death Watch attacking? Din opened the door, hand already on his blaster.
Instead of distant blaster fire, Din only heard Satine squeak as she and Obi-wan turned around, Satine pulling Bo-Katan with her. Grogu peeked his head over Obi-wan’s shoulder and whined.
“Uhh…What’s wrong?” Din asked, trying to figure out why their backs were to him? His thought slowly caught up to him, and he realized they must have finished their talk and tried to call him. When he didn’t respond, they’d come to get him- how long was Din lost in thought for? “Ad’ike?”
“Helmet,” Obi-wan answered. Din frowned and, in a kind of dumb move, patted his face. Which was not covered.
“Ah.” Din surprised himself by not panicking. His covert didn’t exist, and talks with Jango and Silas showed that wearing your helmet at all times was a rule not commonly followed. Did that mean Din would be walking around the palace bare face? No, that felt too exposed. But in his room with his kids- even if they were delivering news that they didn’t want that? Why not. It felt like the conversation he should show his face for. “Just- just come in. Please.”
Din backed away from the door and watched in amusement as Obi-wan, Satine, and Bo-Katan tried to walk through the door backward. Grogu, evidently annoyed with their weirdness, demanded to be let down so he could toddle his way to Din. As Din always did, he picked his son up. Grogu patted his cheek, a habit the boy had taken to when seeing Din’s bare face.
The three teens successfully got into the room and shut the door behind- in front?- of them. Din went over to the small living set up to the side of the room and sat on a chair with Grogu on his lap. His helmet was still on the bed.
“You can turn around,” Din said softly. He was already taking in as much as he could of the three without his HUD changing the image. “It’s ok, ori’haat.”
Bo-Katan was the first to turn around. She immediately started scanning Din’s face. Din was hopeless to stop the flush of his cheeks, not having as much practice controlling his face as most people had. When Din didn’t change his mind or say something to Bo-Katan, Satine and Obi-wan also turned around. Having three people looking at him was uncomfortable, but Din would bear it.
Obi-wan seemed to be able to tell Din’s feelings, however. He tugged Satine and Bo-Katan over to the loveseat and other chair.
Satine tried to lock eyes with Din as she went to speak but couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking across his face. “Are you ok? You look like….”
“You were crying,” Obi-wan finished. “Grogu got worried about you, so we came to check.”
“Yeah, just,” Din hesitated on sharing his thoughts. He didn’t want to stress them out or have them change their choices in any way. “Just thinking too hard about some difficult stuff.” Satine and Obi-wan exchanged glances but let him get away with his lackluster answer. Bo-Katan was still staring at him. “Uh, Bo? Everything ok?”
Satine lightly smacked his sister’s arm, but Bo-Katan waved her off. “I just thought you’d look more… buir-y.”
“Buir-y?” Din wrinkled his nose at the word.
“Yeah,” Bo-Katan said with a nod. “Less scruffy.”
“Bo!” Satine scolded, poorly hiding a smile. Din didn’t bother pretending not to smile. He was pretty scruffy looking. Never really had to deal with other people seeing him.
They sat in happy silence for another minute before Din sighed. He hated unnecessary waits. “So, what’s the verdict?”
Satine sat up straighter. “I can’t speak for Obi-wan, but Bo and I- well, you’re right. We just lost our buir, but….”
“You haven’t been pushy about it,” Bo-Katan finished. “Bet if you didn’t slip up, you would’ve never mentioned anything.” Din nodded in agreement.
“Plus, from what you told me, you understand how it feels.” Satine’s voice cracked slightly, and she used her shoulder to rub at her eyes. Din’s hands twitched to hug the girl. Satine composed herself and said, “We don’t know if we are ready, or ever will be, to call you buir and say the vows. But we don’t want you to leave. We don’t want you to change.”
Din’s heart felt like it had stopped. He looked at Bo-Katan for confirmation. The usually boisterous girl seemed shy, biting her lip as she nodded. Din all but deflated in relief, and Grogu squealed.
“Oh, thank the Manda,” Din mumbled. “Thought you might kick us out.”
Din had forgotten he wasn’t wearing his helmet, and his under-the-breath remarks could be heard by everyone else. None of the kids looked happy at that one.
“What! No, we would never have kicked you out!” Satine said in outrage. “You’ve saved our lives, if nothing else!”
“Plus, you don’t have anywhere else to go.” That earned Bo-Katan an elbow to her ribs.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Din just agreed. Obi-wan had a knowing look on his face.
“Is that what you were thinking about? Getting thrown out, and what’d you do?” he guessed.
“Partially,” Din admitted. “Nice to know I don’t have to keep worrying.”
“You don’t,” Satine said with finality. Din nodded and looked back at Obi-wan.
“Right, ok so,” Obi-wan cleared his throat. “Earlier, Master asked to talk to me.”
“Good,” Din muttered. He elaborated at Obi-wan’s confused look. “Try to talk to me about it; told him it was more of a conversation for you two.”
Obi-wan chuckled slightly. “That does sound like Master Jinn. Anyway, he wanted to talk about all of this.” Obi-wan waved his hand between them. “He was worried. His last padawan- well, it’s not my story to tell, but basically, he had contact with his birth family and it sort of resulted in him falling, selling me to slavery, and ultimately his death.” Obi-wan took a breath and made to continue, but Din held a finger up.
“We are coming back to that,” Din said firmly. It wasn’t the time to push it, and Din figured it was where he’d learned to identify slave collar marks. But Obi-wan wasn’t allowed to drop that information like nothing happened.
Obi-wan winced. “Ok. Anyway, attachments for Jedi are bad. It can lead you to fall to the dark side. And while the Order doesn’t ban having familial, romantic, or otherwise relationships, it is treated with caution and usually discouraged for padawans since we are still learners. Add that to the Order’s less-than-stellar relationship with Mandalorians. Master Jinn is worried about my future.”
“Wait, what’s the difference between an attachment and a relationship?” Bo-Katan asked, voicing Din’s exact thoughts.
“I can be complicated to understand, but basically, an attachment is an unhealthier relationship, at the extreme. You know, possessiveness and all that. Less extreme than that is the idea that a Jedi’s duty always has to come first, no matter what. I can’t stop a fellow Jedi from going on a mission just because I worry about them, and the people who care about me shouldn’t stop me from my duty for selfish reasons.” Bo-Katan still looked a little confused, and Din was sure he did too. “Don’t worry. Like I said, it’s complicated. Some Jedi still don’t fully understand it, and they’ve been learning it all their lives.”
“So Ji- Master Jinn told you to be wary of me,” Din guessed, the words leaving a sour feeling in his mouth.
Obi-wan blushed. “Well, yeah. But I sort of told him- uh, you were already becoming a parent figure to me, so whoops.” The words were rushed, but Din was able to decipher them. “So we talked about boundaries and maintaining those kinds of relationships. Also, I signed up to see a mind healer at the Temple, which is pretty common for people forming stronger relationships outside the Temple.”
Din took a moment to digest everything. He then looked each of his kids in the eyes. They looked happy, and Din smiled. “I’m happy to be whatever you need or want me to be,” he said. “I care about you, ad’ike. I’m going to work to make sure the galaxy is as safe as it can be for you. Haat, ijaa, haa’it.”
Like a dam breaking, Bo-Katan all but threw herself at Din. Din, of course, caught her and pulled her into an embrace while shuffling so Grogu wasn’t crushed. Satine and Obi-wan moved to the chair’s arms to curl around Din.
As for Din, he felt content, he was happy, and he wasn’t lost anymore. Children were the future, and Din was determined to change the future for his kids.
•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••·•·•·•·
Meanwhile:
Qui-gon: having a mini-crisis over his padawan
Dooku: patting Qui-gon's back, feeling slightly vindicated
Yoda, sipping tea: "Ask Mando for parenting advice you should. Perhaps, co-parent Obi-wan, you can."
Qui-gon: muffles a scream into a throw pillow
Mando'a translations:
ad'ika- plural of ad'ika
dar'jetti- no longer a Jedi, a Sith
ori'haat: It's the truth, I swear
Haat, ijaa, haa'it: Truth, honor, vision - words used to seal a pact.
Masterlist
<Back/Next>
#TIME IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT#din darjin#the mandalorian#grogu#baby yoda#obi wan kenobi#satine kryze#Bo-Katan Kryze#time travel au#star wars
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First off, how does one “de-gay” anything starring Ahsoka? Come on. You can’t really “de-gay” a queer. We queers are saturated in gay. It is what it is.
Secondly, I like how the author mentions the episode is still the queerest they’ve seen Ahsoka thus far (just leaving an ere of plausible deniability.. a homophobic loophole). I personally wouldn’t say it’s “the queerest” thing we’ve seen. The questionable, ambiguous, close relationships between Ahsoka and other girls predate the Wrong Jedi arc, but that was my first real “wait a minute…is she….??” moment, and it just got gayer with the last season of Clone Wars and with Rebels. I mean, Season 7 of Clone Wars was peak gay. Filoni axed the “boyfriend” in the walkabout arc in favor of two clearly queer women for Ahsoka to run around with in the Coruscant under city in a lesbian jump suit and man-bag. Gay. But then, honestly, I’d argue the Siege of Mandalore arc was the queerest we’ve seen Ahsoka. The flirty looks Ahsoka was shooting Bo-Katan the whole time, the dialogue between the two of them, the urgency to leap when Bo said to jump, even Ahsoka’s demeanor changed, and THAT chemistry. My god. Like, there’s no other explanation for it outside of her and Bo having some sort of, um, “something” going on. Then, fulcrum… a single woman in her 30’s, without fingernails, helping organize a rebellion against fascists. Also pretty gay. But, I guess to the author’s point though, the Tales of the Jedi episode was still gay AF.
Lastly, I know folks are freaking out about the retconning of the novel, but the episode felt like cliff notes to me. It was practically the same story verbatim. She did a lot more hanging out in the cantina in the novel, and it’s fleshed the story out more.. but it doesn’t feel retconned to me. The short was like, 14 minutes long…The Ahsoka novel took like 7 hours to read. Not saying changes weren’t made, but for the sake of time, changes had to be made if he felt compelled to do this. I’d also argue that most egregious thing Filoni did in Resolve was change Kaeden’s name and not keep the girl as a woman of color. Farm girl was CLEARLY fawning over Ahsoka, she just didn’t outwardly state that she wanted to kiss her. Though, she obviously did (who doesn’t?). That’s fine. Whatever. And just like the novel, Ahsoka really was not into it as much as she was with, say, Barriss or Bo or even Trace and Rafa (never mind Riyo, Kalifa or any of the other girls Ahsoka has ever interacted with onscreen) because she was too dejected to care. That is totally fair because *gestures vaguely at all the trauma she just went through*… When she was over in the corner by herself in that one scene eating that bowl of soup, there was part of me that was legitimately worried that she was considering drowning herself in it. I get that. I wouldn’t want to bone anybody in that mental headspace either. So, I don’t feel like the queer representation was axed, just watered down for the phobes (this is a money-making exercise after all). Not saying that the changes were not offensive, as they were, but it could have been worse.
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Bo Katan vs Satine Kryze
I want to talk about the topic that not a lot of people seem to bring up, not here, nor on You Tube.
Both Bo Katan and Satine Kryze are not great leaders. They care about their people (allegedly but I'll get to it). But that doesn't equal being a capable ruler.
Let's start with Satine cause she is the lesser evil of the two.
Her being a pacifist but also defending herself isn't hypocrisy. What about her not killing the literal terrorist who threatened her life, the life of Obi-Wan who she loves, and an entire ship full of people? Hesitating to kill someone, even a bad person, when you haven't killed anyone yet isn't that out of the ordinary. If anything I have more gripes with Obi-Wan being apparently more worried about looking good in front of Satine than stepping up and killing a guy.
But even then to me, it looked more like neither of them wanted to provoke him and accidentally blow up the ship.
Good thing Anakin saved their asses and neither of them had to make a hard choice.
A) Obi-Wan toughens up and stops caring what his ex thinks of him and does what they both know he did in the past and will do in the future, kill a dangerous person threatening the lives of others.
B) If Satine killed him she would've had to accept that sometimes you have to kill people to save yourself and others. She would have to see thinks not only from her point of view ''You're bad for participating in war even though you were the ones attacked first and you just protecting yourselves.'' Of course, Clone Wars are more complex than good vs bad.
This brings me to my second point.
Satin saw right through Palpatine's plan to occupy Mandalore.
She was kind of in a lose-lose situation. If she agrees to another army occupying her homeworld and, given the record of other planets saved by the Republic, be completely wrecked or let her guards/police/army do things themselves. Even tho they are no match for a criminal underworld.
And that brings us to criticism number three.
Her army or lack there off because she demilitarized Mandalore. I think I don't need to point out how stupid that is to have no army. Even if you're a pacifist and don't intend on attacking anyone that doesn't mean you will never get attacked yourself. Especially when the war is going on just a stone's throw away from your home planet.
Going from what we showed in the show this ''demilitarization'' meant that either you stop being warmongering warriors which value strength over anything else or go to the moon.
And that's when the lack of explicitly shown backstory rears its ugly head. Everybody has their own point of view. From the Death Watch's point of view, Satin is disrespecting her and their culture for trying to make it more peaceful and doesn't deserve to call herself a Mandalorian.
From Satin's point of view, she banished aggressive warmongers.
The timeline of when the Death Watch became a terrorist group is crucial. If they turned ''true Mandalorians'' supremacy when they were still living on the planet and Satin's idea of dealing with them wasn't throwing their asses in jail but banishing them to their moon which doesn't even change that much because they can travel to Mandalore no problem, then she's an idiot.
If the Death Watch formed after the banishment that means that instead of cultivating their culture and creating their own society on the moon and showing the Galaxy who is ''better'' they decided to turn into a terrorist group and eventually take over the planet.
''But Satine's military is so weak! The Death Watch had to come in and save them! It means that they're right!’’
If you think that then you fall for their manipulation.
Let's not forget how the whole crime underworld attacking Mandalore and making the Death Watch look like heroes was a genius plan concocted by Maul. These attacks were staged, and Death Watch knew exactly when and what was going to happen, giving them a huge advantage. They just show up and deal with the problem before the actual guards could even get there. They are careful to not kill each other or civilians, only the guards. That way they show how ''peaceful'' they can be and how useless the guards are.
We have no idea how it would've turned out if all those crime syndicates were actually trying to fight and win and the Death Watch was supposed to be a regular military without their enemies giving themselves on a silver platter.
youtube
It’s getting long. All in all, Satin isn't that bad. She's not perfect, no one is. But she also had a lot of things stuck against her that were outside of her control and I doubt if anyone could have handled it better.
In part two I'm going to tear into Bo Katan.
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Grogu agreed with Bo-Katan. Mandalorians are stronger… wait a minute.
Knock, knock. Knock, knock.
Hello. Grogu here. I just wanted to break the fourth wall for a minute and say, what the heck! I’ve told you stories about Bo-Katan a bunch of times and frankly, I don’t have anything else to tell you. I’m done. Finished. Out of insights. The best I can say right now, is you know as much about her as I do, unless I give you a bunch of spoilers and frankly, there are a lot of people who would be very peeved with me if I did that. So I won’t.
Now, since it’s just the two of us chatting, I’m going to add a couple of other important bits and pieces of knowledge to your understanding of how things work. First and foremost, I am not called Baby Yoda. Sorry. Nope. Uh ah. The name is Grogu. Not kid, buddy, Mac, womp rat, or padawan. Grogu. It’s a simple name. If you had to say it in my language, well, it still sounds like Grogu. Easy peasy. Thank you.
Second, I don’t know if I was hatched, born, budded, sprouted, or any of a thousand other ways a person ends up being a person. I’ve heard a lot of theories and I don’t know the answer. I will not be checking in with Master Yoda’s Force ghost (or whatever you call it) to find out more on that either. It’s a mystery. Mysteries are fun. If Jon wants to do that, he can do that.
Third, as much as I like having all those dads when I’m on set, I only have one for real. He is called Din Djarin. He has brown eyes and a scruffy beard and a very handsome nose. That’s right. The few people who have ever seen my dad’s face say he has a lovely nose. It’s a lot bigger than mine but then he’s a lot bigger than me too. Just so you know.
Now that we’ve covered that kind of stuff, I just want to say, I really appreciate you hanging out with me, day in and day out, reading the stories, laughing (I hope), and commenting if you have a chance. And for the two people who send me corrections for typos, I see you and I really appreciate it. I just wish there was an edit button everywhere. Maybe, one day.
Anyway, I’ve been asked a couple of questions pretty routinely and I thought now would be a good time and place to answer them. Since I have your attention.
Yes, I do my own stunts. Some of the time. I’ve got a great team and that includes body doubles, stunt coordinators and of course a couple of other stunt performers. The folks who work with me on that stuff are great and I know you love them as much as I do. Maybe more, since they don’t attach little wands to your arms to make sure you don’t accidentally use the Force. They go to a lot of trouble to set up the sequences and none of us want it to fall flat (no pun intended).
I am not very tall. In fact, I don’t even reach my dad’s knee cap yet. Sometimes when there isn’t a good visual reference I look bigger than I am. Frankly, I kind of like that. But, the reality is I’m about a 0.34 meters in height. I’ve grown a bit since the series first started airing, but that only added a couple of centimeters to my height. That’s a lot for me, but you might not notice it.
Contrary to what some of you may have read on internet posts, I do not eat everything and my body is not all stomach. I just like to eat my food fresh. And I do need a lot of food to keep up my energy levels. It’s not easy being the smallest person on set and no one has figured out how to get me a bicycle that I can ride from point A to point B. Dank Farrik!
Oh, yeah, if you’re wondering why I am not cooing and babbling, and all that, well, this is being translated by my assistant. They understand my language and I am really glad of that. Just because you don’t know what coo, coo, chirp, patuuuu means, doesn’t mean it’s baby talk. Don’t listen to Jon. He doesn’t understand it either. I’m just glad someone does.
Ummm, yes, Peli Motto is just as much fun as she seems to be. She’s cracking jokes about a thousand times a minute and most us can’t keep up with her, but that’s part of her charm. If you don’t understand them all, that’s okay. None of us do, but she still has pretty, bouncy, hair and that is also part of her charm.
Don’t mess with Fennec. Just don’t. Really. She will get even. I did not mean to drop a frog into her iced tea. I didn’t. I was distracted by a question from one of the ADs and next thing I know the frog I was about to eat was in that glass and whoo boy, was Fennec not happy about that. But she didn’t say anything right away. Nope. She smiled, laughed, and asked politely for a new one. The next day I found that frog in my bed. On my pillow. If you get my drift. Do not upset her.
Daimyo Fett is really great and tells so many jokes. They don’t end up in the show very often, but let me assure you that when a person survives a sarlacc pit they have a lot of jokes to tell you and you should listen to them all. Hilarious.
I think the cast and crew are brilliant and they treat me really well and I love them all. Well, except for that one assistant to the assistant to the assistant to the episode’s director. They know who they are. I don’t share those frogs. Not with anyone. They are hard to come by and I need all the vitamins and minerals in them to stay healthy. I don’t care who made that bet (looking at you Pedro), and I don’t care if you won (you didn’t), but leave my frogs alone or you will be finding gorgs in your bed and they won’t be resting peacefully.
Okay. That’s it. Whoo. Glad I got that out of my system. I hope you enjoy the vid of the very lovely Katee. She’s a lot of fun and is one of my favorite humans. This is the Way (through the fourth wall).
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This week's episode of the Mandalorian was... really weird. And not in the fun way. The "episode ended and my primary feeling is complete and utter confusion" way.
Not even sure where to start, because the episode felt really messy to me. I guess I'll try and go through it all from start to finish... assuming the episode's weirdness doesn't cause tangents.
Alright, so the intro was actually cool. The Mon Cala Quarren romance was kinda goofy and hard to take seriously, but I do like the idea behind it. The intro of Axe Woves and what those Mandos were up to was a cool set up. So cool, the episode is gonna be about Bo-Katan trying to get them back on their side again, right? It seems that way... but then Jack Black and Rizzo show up and the whole episode goes on a massive tangent. I know The Mandalorian often does the whole side quest thing, but either I'm getting tired of it, or the messiness of this season's overarching story meant I have even less patience for it, teasing the interesting conflict relevant to the big picture only to divert elsewhere.
Also... Jack Black and Rizzo, wasn't a fan. Between this and getting Christopher Lloyd, it's like Favreau had the idea for the main conflict but it didn't fill up enough pages so he filled the middle, now majority, with celebrity cameos to compensate. I don't usually mind goofy characters, but IDK here it felt so paper thin, and it doesn't help that I couldn't really tell what they were trying to do with that part of the story.
So like... okay, this planet is allegedly a direct democracy. It kinda looks idealised and utopian with the scenery and set design, but the characters are goofy in a way it feels like it was trying to mock them? The whole "we're a direct democracy but we're also monarchs" thing is so confusing to me. Like... I feel like it's trying to say something, but I don't know what? Are they trying to say direct democracy is utopian and unrealistic, typical liberal "communism is unrealistic" shit?
Thing is, episode didn't really seem to be about that. If it was my salty libcom ass wouldn't be amused but at least it would've been coherent. Instead we're focusing on malfunctioning droids or something.
So like, I'm expecting some twist to this. They investigate and meet the ugnaughts. They look more proletarian to the opulence of the main city, so I was like "oh so is this like a slave/exploited workforce?" ...apparently not! The ugnaughts are chill, and the droid problem is something else. Din talking to them based on experience was cool at least?
So the runaway B2 and the droid bar being called "The Resistor" got me thinking... is this like a droid uprising thing? The droids aren't actually malfunctioning and they're instead demanding equal rights while the organics live like bougies? Also apparently not! The droids are chill and are apparently just concerned about why some of them are going crazy. This seemed like it might've been this suppposedly utopian society having to reckon with the automation they use being sentient, but nope!
At least seeing Din's old prejudices was something, like he still has to actively make an effort to not be a dick to droids, IG-11 was just one droid, and these weren't any droids, but Separatist droids.
Okay so the culprit is... Christopher Lloyd, who's apparently an old Separatist who sees Dooku as some visionary and wants revolution or something? Honestly, this was so rushed and underdeveloped I'm not even sure I fully understand what happened. So it seems like his motives were because the Duchess married the Duke of this planet who was ex-Imperial but reformed through the Amnesty program. Not a bad concept at least, but with all the other shit going on it doesn't feel as developed as it should be?
Oh yeah, Grogu is also there and Lizzo loves him. Remind me why we were in such a hurry to reunite him and Din in a DIFFERENT SHOW again? He better have a major moment in the finale or I'm calling bullshit on the decisions made for Book of Boba Fett.
Din feels like just a sidekick but at least the droid stuff TRIED to do something with him. With the big picture stuff though he doesn't have much presence.
Bo-Katan and Axe Woves facing off was cool I guess, oh yeah finally back to the story I actually wanted to see. Bo even repeated the declaration Maul did in the Clone Wars. Guess it works for taking control of any Mando group?
Bo beats Axe, even as Axe says if she wants to lead so much she should fight Din. But then Din makes this loophole that because he was captured by the creepy cyborg on Mandalore and Bo-Katan then defeated it and was even using the darksabre to do it, she can now take it? IDK, I just find it funny that a ridiculous logic train fans went down ended up becoming a real loophole Din used to make everyone convinced Bo-Katan could now wield the sabre.
Honestly, the most interesting part of that scene was that Axe is apparently a Mando blood supremacist, lol. Taking off helmets is for dumb religious zealots, but racial purity good, only those born from Mandalorian families are Mandalorian! Not a bad idea, but it kinda feels like nobody is really challenging these traditions. Din gets welcomed back into helmet gang. Axe accepts Bo because she actually gets the darksabre. They're still finding ways to follow their traditions instead of genuinely evolving.
At least Bo-Katan felt like she was finally doing shit again instead of being all sowwy Awmower I will keep my hewmet on. We still got here in a messy way but oh well. Din I guess contributed to the conflict resolution at least?
So yeah... very confused episode. Has a neat base idea, but instead of actually making an effort to explore that core to the fullest, we go on some weird tangent that feels poorly thought out thematically and is being covered with celebrity guest stars.
Anyway, Rick Famuyiwa better deliver on these last two episodes, because this might be the first time I'm actually starting to feel worried about a Star Wars project's story trajectory. At least Rise of Skywalker knew what it wanted to do even if it had issues getting there. Dave Filoni is also co-writing next week, so IDK either we get some deep cut lore or backstory or we finally see the anticipated Sabine Wren join the Mandos fighting to take back Mandalore (and knowing Filoni Ahsoka will be there too lol). Anyway, these last two episodes... you have a lot to live up to, PLEASE stick the landing.
At least I have Bad Batch to watch even if they still need to fix their goddamn whitewashing issue, but at least that story is pretty good and... oh, yeah, no more Bad Batch until at minimum next year. This is all the Star Wars airing now. Fuck.
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Learning to draw the Kryze family and these people do not look related.
#chit chat#korkie has an excuse because cowboy hat man wanted him to look like obiwan#but bo katan doesn’t look like either one of them#which is Fine siblings don’t have to look similar#but i just thought it was interesting to note#bo katan also looks younger than korkie which is hilarious#blond korkie anyway#blond korkie is a balding man in his thirties#and bkk is like. 23.#frankly lends credit to the korkie is not a kenobi side#i would 100% believe there was a middle sibling between bkk and satine just because of the age difference#just saying#from the makers of ‘worm baby’ comes ‘what age are they anyway’#anyway...
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Welp. Mando finale thoughts.
Y’ALL IM DYING I WAS RIGHT WE ACTUALLY DID NOT GET HELMETLESS DIN 😂😂 what a fucking joke. Literally it’s like the writing this season has expected you to have the attention span of a five year old, debriefing room? Nah mate that was last episode forget it. This show won’t keep a plotline going to save its life. Sigh. At least Din escaped by his own with the help of Grogu instead of Bo coming to rescue him like a damsel in distress again. His fight scenes were really cool and we got to see the most he’s interacted with Grogu out of the whole season.
The Moff Gideon clone thing makes sense I guess but it kinda just came out of nowhere? Like his epic showdown speech was all about Din destroying the clones when it happened like 5 minutes ago, why didn’t you have any security for that anyways lmao. This is probably just a nitpick but it’s a weird thing to introduce at the last second and have it be his big motivator. Also I was just imagining how much more cool it would be if the darksaber was being wielded by Din in that fight, truly the marketing meant absolute nothing. But hey now it’s gone forever so doesn’t even matter who tf cares anymore there yayyyyyy 🙄 At least Bo Katan would actually have to prove that she’s a worthy leader not just based on fucking sword ownership, which realistically she’d 100% get them all screwed again if she wasnt written as a different person all season lol.
No one was the spy. Kinda glad because I didn’t want the Armorer to be evil but idk why the fuck they named a whole episode that then. Flying scenes were also neat at least.
NO DINBO AND HE DIDNT STAY WITH HER AT THE END LETS GOOOO!!! and FINALLY a father son confession, though I’m sorry Din Grogu? Is that a Mandalorian cultural practice established? Why wouldn’t it be Grogu Djarin tf? 😭 that’s gonna take some getting use to because what. Also come on why didn’t you make Din say he’s his son to the New Republic Officer at the end that would have been the perfect transition from this apprentice nonsense after adopting him. Speaking of, please don’t tell me they are making Din a cop. I know it’s an independent contract to just hunt down imperials not much different than his bounty work but it’s getting dangerously close to cop levels for me.
I will say, after going through all that, I’m at the very least happy we got an ending that can merge into Din and Grogu actually being the focus as a family and going on adventures again. These writers still have lost all my trust and I’m not looking forward to more, but it’s better than any alternatives we could have gotten.
Overall, not a god awful finale, but not a great one either. Lots of missed opportunities, but dodged a couple of bullets we were all worried about.
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Honor compels me to add another Attachment Hot Take into the maelstrom of tumblr.
The choice Luke is offering is between two creeds, both of which expect an intense lifelong commitment and personal sacrifice. Din would absolutely raise his son within his creed as a Mandalorian, and start looking for a child sized blaster. Sure, he might not swear the creed and get a helmet until adulthood, but Din says he was raised to fight, and thus the creed is an affirmation of his training and beliefs. Chastised he may be by the Armorer (and regardless of how uncharitable she is to him), there’s no indication thus far that Din is about to swap to Bo Katan’s denomination or otherwise give up the creed he swore. If Grogu chooses to go back to him, Din’s not going to suddenly go back to Omera and live out the domestic bliss of safe civilian life. I had expected that Din’s gift would be a mythosaur pendant for Grogu to keep, but he gives him beskar armor. Sure, it’s a reasonable and practical gift for someone whose life has repeatedly been in danger, but it’s also surely the most sacred gift a Mandalorian could ever give someone. The Armorer was willing to use their limited supply of beskar because that’s a gift that could only be granted from a Mandalorian to their child (and she doesn’t even ask for it back after she exiles him, presumably because she full well expects him to find a way to atone by the tenets of their creed).
The most interesting thing the shows have done is emphasize that Mandalorians aren’t a Cooler Than You club, they’re a religion (and even showing multiple, conflicting interpretations) with stringent tenets. The whole irony is that Din was separated from his own people (dead parents, sure, but still) and taken into a new culture that impressed a strict code upon him from childhood, but one that nonetheless gave him purpose and community. Like it’s not even subtext to make the comparison at this at this point, given the Empire promptly persecuted them. The ideals that Din was taught guide him through two seasons of working for people he doesn’t like for the sake of bringing the reward to support his people, and then repeatedly getting his ass kicked and barreling into danger because Grogu is his foundling. Din’s given up as much of his self to the service of others as any Jedi has.
Luke expresses his concern that Grogu’s heart isn’t fully into his training, and that’s a valid concern when you’re trying to connect to the metaphysical undercurrent of the universe and the immense power that comes from it. But would the Armorer not say something if one of her foundlings wasn’t one hundred percent focused on their training, especially if that training involves high powered weaponry? She’s clearly holding her Mandalorians to as high of a standard as any Jedi would their students, even on matters of purely symbolic principle, because that’s a part of their creed.
It’s laid out as a binary choice because it has to be a choice, and thus a commitment, especially now that Grogu has had the opportunity to remember some of his original training, as Luke also notes. Devotion to a creed can’t be done in half measures, that would be disrespecting the creed itself, much less the danger involved when it comes to wielding the Force/high powered Mando weapons. You can’t force someone to be a Jedi or a Mandalorian, that would be the last thing they want. These aren’t just day jobs, they’re intensely held beliefs for personal and communal enlightenment. Either path requires a total commitment, and that commitment requires sacrifice.
(Yes, Tarre Vizla was both Mandalorian and Jedi, but I can’t really comment on how that worked out until someone actually writes that out. But when Paz says that Tarre went out to form House Vizla, which then continued for centuries after, it sure sounds like he left the Jedi to focus on Mandalorian things. Which, of course, is something a Jedi has every right to do.)
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I want an AU where Anakin and Padme get a divorce halfway through the war on AMICABLE TERMS instead of the "Padme was using him" that I saw recently. Potentially it's in the context of that "Anakin's crush on Padme was comphet because she was an unattainable ideal, he realizes he's gay after he actually attains said ideal" AU.
He still goes over to her apartment when he's meant to be on meditative retreats, but now it's to lie back on her couch with take-out and complain about things, and she complains right back because the Senate is terrible.
Padme has a gay best friend but he's not helpful with fashion at ALL he just tells her she looks great in everything which is very flattering, but also doesn't really do much for her to decide on which headdress to wear to the gala. He can do all the handyman jobs around her apartment, though. She tells him it isn't necessary, but he does it anyway.
Palps sabotages Padme's birth control but nothing happens because she and Anakin aren't actually sleeping together anymore.
Anakin always greets Padme with a huge smile and a hug that spins her around because he's no longer worried about someone figuring out he's married because said marriage no longer exists.
Anakin at one point just whining on Padme's couch like "I'm surrounded by so many hot guys, and I can't hit on any of them, because I'm their commanding officer! Do you know how much that sucks? It sucks so much. Padme. Padme it sucks so goddamn much."
People keep hinting at Anakin's marriage and now that he's not panicking about it he just fucks with them by pretending to be oblivious to the insinuations.
Drunk Anakin comes out to Obi-Wan with the usual 'so many hot dudes and I can't date any of them' complaint and everyone in the room is just like "wait... wait I thought you had a thing with Amidala......"
Something something Anidala maintain the illusion of being a somewhat exclusive couple so Padme can imply to gross dudes that she has a violently protective S/O, which is... mostly true?
He's still a significant figure in her life! He is violent! He is protective! He will hurt them if they keep hitting on her! He's just no longer married to her.
Anakin gets confirmation in a roundabout way that he's not going to get punished for a marriage that no longer exists and then just starts referring to Padme as My Ex-Wife and it's uncomfortable for literally everyone except the two of them.
(Same vibes as introducing your wife as "my ex-girlfriend.")
Ventress: Oh? And how would you feel, Skywalker, if I went and stole that pretty little girlfriend of yours for--
Anakin: Ex-wife.
Ventress: ...what?
Anakin: Get it right, she's my ex-wife. The divorce went through months ago, you're really behind.
Ventress: ...what?
Anakin: You probably have a shot, though, she likes projects.
Ventress: ...what?
In her defense, Ventress meant "kidnap for torture." Anakin was the one that heard "steal yo girl."
As suggested by @thisarenotarealblog on discord:
Anakin: Hey babe you know how you like disasters
Padme: I'm listening
Sabe: She's a separatist assassin, my Lady!
Padme: Thats what she does, not what she is.
And from @atagotiak at the same:
Now, Ventress being a separatist assassin does make things complicated but it’s not like massive differences of political opinion is a turnoff for Padmé.
IMO Padme's bi/lesbian lover would have to be either Ventress or Bo-Katan, they are the only ladies that have anywhere near Anakin's batshit moral nonsense going on while still plausibly being someone she could turn.
Padme needs a non-hopeless "I can fix them" project in her life.
Anakin, doing the Will Smith pose as Padme disembarks from a ship: BEHOLD, MY GLORIOUS EX-WIFE.
Padme: [laughing indulgently]
Obi-Wan: [pinching the bridge of his nose]
Mace: 😒
#star wars#the clone wars#Padme Amidala#Anakin Skywalker#Asajj Ventress#Obi Wan Kenobi#Platonic Anidala#Phoenix Posts#500 notes#1k notes
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better with you - interlude: aq vetina
Pairing: Din Djarin x F! Reader
Rating: T
Summary: Din visits his home planet for the first time in thirty years. He isn’t alone when he goes.
Word count: 1,052
Notes: This interlude is a scene that I wanted to add to the final chapter of better with you, but it didn’t fit anywhere in the chapter, and it’s a vignette that I didn’t want to leave on the cutting room floor entirely because it’s such an impactful scene. I am really interested in learning about Din’s past, especially his childhood and hope that we get more in season 3. I have a couple more interludes planned, including one about Din’s birthday.
Comments/reblogs appreciated
Warnings: Grief/mouring, deceased parents, mentions of pregnancy.
You’re lying in bed with Din, your hands intertwined with his on his stomach, your head resting on his shoulder. It’s early in your marriage. “What planet are you from originally?” you ask quietly.
Din’s quiet for a long time, you don’t know if he’s either heard the question or doesn’t know how to answer.
Right as you’re about to tell him never mind, he answers. “Aq Vetina.” His voice is gruff.
You repeat the planet name. “What was it like?” you whisper.
Din hesitates again, not as long this time. “Peaceful. Until the Clone Wars.” You nod, not saying anything. The Clone Wars affected every inch of the galaxy. It isn’t surprising that Din didn’t go unscathed from it. “I was eight when the droid army attacked. When... when my parents were killed.”
He takes a shuddering breath. “Din,” you whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to —”
Before you can say anything else, Din shifts so that he’s facing you, your head landing on your pillow. “Sweet girl. Never apologize for wanting to know more about me.” He kisses your brow. “No one’s wanted to know these things before.”
This confession stings your eyes. You blink. “Of course I want to know about you. You’re my husband,” you say. “And I love you. I want to know you.”
Din moves his hand to the back of your neck, cradling your head. “I love you, too,” he murmurs, guiding your head back to his shoulder and begins telling you about Aq Vetina and what it was like growing up. You listen attentively, holding him close when he tells the story of how the droid army rained destruction on the once peaceful planet and something clicks.
“That’s why you’re not fond of droids,” you murmur.
Din nods. “I don’t outright hate them anymore, thanks to an IG unit that saved Grogu’s life.”
That’s understandable, you think. You give him a one-armed sideways hug. “Thank you for telling me,” you say.
Again, Din presses his lips to your forehead. “Of course. And you know you can ask me anything, right?”
- - - -
A few months go by. The almost coup by Bo-Katan fails. And as you grow with the baby inside you, you start to think more and more about Din’s past.
“Din...” you start as you sit down for dinner.
“Yes, cyare?” he replies.
You hesitate as you find the right words. “I was thinking about Aq Vetina. I think it’s because of the baby, I’m thinking about their dad.” You squeeze his hand. “And I was wondering... and you can totally say no... if we could... Never mind. It’s a bad idea.”
Din looks at you. “It’s okay, cyare. I was thinking the same thing.”
You meet his gaze. “Really?” you ask. “You want to go back to Aq Vetina?”
“I’ve been thinking about it since you asked me about it all those months ago,” Din admits.
“I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Or anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“I know. And I love you for that. But... it’s been too long. I need to go back. I want my family to know about my past, about my childhood.” Din sounds sure of himself.
“When do you want to go?” you ask.
A few days later, you’re back in the ship that took you to Yavin IV, Grogu on your hip, Din’s hand on the small of your back.
He doesn’t fly the ship in hyper-speed for a few reasons, namely, so nothing happens to you or the baby. But also, he wants to take in the scenery, contemplate things. “You ready?” you ask from the passenger’s seat as you arrive a few hours later.
Din doesn’t reply. He switches the ship into landing.
When the three of you disembark from the ship, a few people have gathered. “Greetings, friends,” says a man maybe fifteen years older than Din. “What brings you to this corner of the galaxy?”
Din swallows. “I’m Din Djarin. This is my wife and our foundling Grogu.”
The man’s eyes widen in recognition. “Djarin?” he repeats. Din nods. “I don’t think you remember me. I was your neighbour before... well...”
“I remember you. It’s good to see you,” Din says.
“I had no idea you had... That... I thought that you...” Din’s former neighbour is unable to complete his sentence.
“A group of Mandalorians rescued me,” Din explains. “I was raised as a Mandalorian foundling on Nevarro. But it’s been too long since I’ve returned and we’ve got a child on the way...”
“Of course. There’s a memorial in the town square. I have to get to work, but it was so nice seeing you, Din.”
“Likewise.”
- - - -
You meander your way through Din’s hometown. It’s been repaired since the droid army attack thirty years ago. It’s exactly as he remembers.
“My parents were fabric merchants,” he tells you; this is not new information to you, but you listen as he explains, your free hand that is not holding Grogu in his.
Eventually you make your way to the town square. And right in the centre, there’s a memorial. Names of the lives lost in the droid army attack. It takes Din no time to find his parents’ names. He’s been stoic up until now, but you notice a hitch in Din’s breathing. He reaches out his hand and brushes his fingers over their names. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “that I stayed away for so long.”
You give Din some space, allow him to pay his respects and to properly say goodbye. This is a moment is private, between him and his parents, that you don’t want to intrude upon.
After a few moments, Din comes over to where you and Grogu are sitting. “Are you okay?” you ask. He swallows sharply and nods, pulling you and Grogu into his arms, filled with affection for you and for your baby and for Grogu.
Grogu reaches out and touches Din’s face. “Patu.”
“I love you,” you murmur. “And I’m proud of you, proud to be your wife. I think your parents would be proud of the man that you’ve become.”
The three of you sit like that in the grass for a very long time, just holding each other.
---
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