#JBAR

[thethedifferentone]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 & 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗲 𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝗸𝗮 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝘂𝘁𝘁𝗮 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝟮𝟬𝟬𝟳 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝗱𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗰 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝘀𝗰𝗶𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗱𝗲𝘀 𝘀.𝗼.𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗴𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻 & 𝗰𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗱𝗮 𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗯 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻 ��𝘆 𝘀𝘄𝗮𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗼𝘁 𝘀𝘂𝗺 𝘄𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗷𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗽 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗺𝘂𝗴 𝗳𝘁 𝟱𝟬 𝗰𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝘂 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗶'𝗺 𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗼𝗻 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗸 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗴𝗼 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝟯𝟬/𝟯𝟬 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘇 𝗲𝗮𝘇𝘆 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺 𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗺𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗼 𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗼 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗴𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁𝗮 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝘇𝗶𝗸 𝗱𝗮𝘇𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝘄𝗮𝗴 𝗳𝗹𝘂 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗼𝘄 𝘇𝗮𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗽𝘁𝟮 𝗯𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗼𝘄 & 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗯𝗶𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘀𝘄𝗮𝗴 𝗶 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗼𝗷𝗼 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗽 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘀.𝗼.𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗴𝗮𝗻𝗴 & 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗼 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝗶𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝗲 𝗮 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲   𝗶𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹'𝗲𝗺 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗼'𝘀 𝟮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗹𝗯𝘂𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 & 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗼 𝗮𝗸𝗮 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆'𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 & 𝘀𝘁𝘆𝗹𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗻𝗼𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗶𝘁𝘂𝗱𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆' 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗲𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗶𝘁 & 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗶𝘂𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘀 𝗲𝘁𝗰. 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 & 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗱𝘂𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗮 𝗵𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝗺𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝗮 𝗰𝗼𝗼𝗹 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗮𝗻 𝘂𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗽 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝗸𝗮 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗶𝗴 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝘀.𝗼.𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗴𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 & 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲𝗲𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 & 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 & 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗮𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 & 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝗼𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹 𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗮 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 & 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗲 & 𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗷𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗼𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗻

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 23 snippet (T-minus three days...)

“Why’s he such a grouch, anyway?” you demand, pointing to the Darksaber hanging from his hip. “Doesn’t that thing basically mean you’re in charge?” 

Din peers back at you, leery. He’s never mentioned the weapon’s significance to you before. How did you come by this information?

“It is written that whoever wields the Darksaber has sole claim to the throne of Mandalore,” he cautiously replies, choosing his words with care. 

Your eyebrows shoot straight to your hairline. 

“So you’re king.”

He sighs. 

“Of a whole entire planet.” A wicked smile is beginning to cross your face. 

Alarmed, Din starts wracking his mind for an explanation that will not incur endless teasing, or at least minimize the likelihood of you curtseying each time he enters a room. Inspiration is not forthcoming.

“Technically,” he finally acknowledges. 

“Oh my God,” you breathe. 

“What?” he asks warily. The gleam that has entered your eyes spells nothing but trouble.

You bolt for the door, but not so fast that he isn’t able to hook you around the waist before you make it very far. 

“Where are you going?” he hisses, dragging you back in. 

“To go tell that can of incel noodle soup that he’s being voted off the island,” you answer gleefully as he sets you back on your feet. You turn around, wearing a grin that can only be described as manic. “You just made me the motherfucking princess.”

* SEE YOU GUYS NOVEMBER 1st! 👻 *

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 23

Every nerve in Din’s body leapt into high alert. Lying was unthinkable, and it was pointless to prevaricate.

“Tion’jor?” the Armorer pressed, dissatisfied by his slowness to reply. Why?

He said nothing. The answer was simple enough, but he did not wish to say as much without having formally declared himself to you first. The Mandalorian courting traditions he grew up with did not account for courting non-Mandalorians, and he fully intended to court you.

Left with no other choice, he took a deep breath and reached out to touch your cheek. You met him with a scowl, but held still as he quietly made his reply in Mando’a:

“She is in danger because she is important to me.”

The sullen clouds in your eyes softened to puzzlement, and for a fleeting moment, fear. 

“She is not Mandalorian,” the Armorer pointed out. 

Yet another cloak-and-dagger command for answers. 

Din brought his hand down from your cheek, moving to grip your shoulder. 

“She honors the Way,” he asserted, and spoke his next words with equal conviction. “And she has the heart of a Mandalorian.”

The Armorer lapsed into contemplative silence as she considered these answers. Experience had taught him that she would not be hurried. Still, he was reasonably certain the final decision would be in his favor. She had taken interest in his journeys over the years, indulging his need for wanderlust while denying others similar liberties. 

Din bided his time searching your eyes, marveling at your uncanny ability to find his gaze despite the barrier of his helmet. Could you sense what he was trying to tell you? Yes, you were aruetii, and no, you were not exactly amongst friends, but you need not be frightened. You had assisted a Mandalorian in locating his Tribe and fearlessly rendered him aid, both on and off the battlefield. What better way to demonstrate one’s loyalty?

Chapter 23: She is in Danger Because She is Important to Me

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - another Ch 23 snippet because the plot gremlins are cooperating at the WORST POSSIBLE TIME

“Training or playtime?” Din inquires once the children are assembled before him.

Nobody answers. He attributes the nervous silence to Paz’s looming presence, but all seven helmets are looking straight at you – or rather, your hair.

“I know I’m new, but am I missing something?” you ask, perplexed.

Din’s mouth twitches into a faint smile.

“It’s your hair.” It is in its usual state at the end of the day, framing you in a half-mad riot of curls.

You automatically reach up to tug the elastic band from your ponytail. “Is it that bad?”

“No,” he answers hastily. “But it’s probably been awhile since some of them have seen anything like it.” 

You are already halfway through the process of retying your hair into a slightly tidier arrangement. 

“Oh." You blink. "Okay.”

The fraying elastic goes around your wrist instead, and the next moment you are kneeling to sit on the ground, masses of hair spilling down over both shoulders. 

“It’s okay,” you say earnestly, inviting the children closer. “My hair doesn’t bite. I bite,” you add conversationally, “but only if someone does it first.”

Your teasing remark draws a snicker or two, but Paz plants his between you and the foundlings, quelling their curiosity.

“She is aruetii,” he admonishes, looming over them. “Keep away.”

“I thought she was a guest,” one little girl objects; the child beside her pipes up with another, “Is that what’s wrong with her eye?”

“She is my guest,” Din says firmly. “The Armorer decreed it. She must be treated as such”

The girl sends you a hopeful look. “So we can talk to her?” 

“Yes –” “No –” both men say simultaneously.

“What’s wrong with her eye?”

“She has not taken the Creed, and wears no helmet,” Paz snarls at Din, speaking through clenched teeth.

“But she honors it,” Din insists.

“Honoring it with dalgaana in your bed doesn’t count,” Paz spits back.

Din’s face darkens to stone, but the tug at his cloak stops him from taking aim straight at Paz’s skull. He glances down, momentarily distracted. 

A child has materialized out of nowhere. 

“What’s a dalgaana?” she wants to know, tilting her head up to talk to him. 

“Prostitute,” another youngster helpfully supplies. 

Din looks accusingly back at Paz.

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH HER EYE?”

pleasepleasepleasedonthateme i just had an idea and 23 won’t be as good if I don’t put it in 😭

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 22

Chapter 22: I Don't Care How Adorable You Are Under the Helmet, Getting Roofied by a Mandalorian Was Not in the Brochure

You tear your eyes away from the stunning view – Mando presumably convinced everyone not to kill you, so there should be plenty of time to be awestruck later – and turn back to Paz Vizsla. 

“Hi,” you say evenly, deciding it best to speak first. “I can do it.”

You reach out to take the medkit…

…and watch in utter disbelief as Paz proceeds to raise his arm, and dangles the grey box high in the air above your head. 

“You cannot be serious,” you exclaim, stunned. What is he, five? 

He doesn’t budge.

“Back to your corner.” His sneer is audible from under the helmet, and his voice drops to a growl as he adds, “Or I will put you there myself.”

Zip!

Before you can tell Sasquatch to kiss what you can’t, something small and silver flies towards Paz’s extended arm; a moment later, the medkit seemingly yanks itself out of his grip and crashes to the ground. For one wild second, you think this must be the work of the Force, but mystical energy fields have nothing to do with it: Mando had hauled himself up to fire his grappling hook, sparing you from Paz’s one-man game of monkey-in-middle. The beskar behemoth will not be deterred, however, and lunges to grab the medkit back. 

You snatch the dagger from your boot and level it at his throat. 

“One step closer and I will totally stab you in your sleep,” you threaten, brandishing the weapon with all the confidence of someone who can boast a one hundred percent success rate of stabbing things and also knows their victim does not realize they have stabbed a grand total of only one thing.

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - OMG we hit 1600 kudos! Here, have a snippet

Mando pockets the memory chips, straightens, and makes a swift, sharp jab with his elbow, aiming straight for Dee’s optic. The lens pops and shatters, sending a small explosion of glass to the ground. 

“Mando, stop it!” You shove yourself between him and D-5, horrified. “What the fuck!”

“I’m sorry,” he says pleadingly. He ducks down, trying to catch your gaze, and starts talking fast. “We’re close to the entrance. But you cannot know how to find your way back here, either of you. D-5 is continuously recording audio and visual, and I don’t know if the Mandalorians will give me enough time to explain that they can trust you.” 

“Okay, but –”

“I’ll fix him,” he interrupts. “I promise.”

“Fine,” you huff, relenting. “What do you need to do, blindfold me or something?”

Mando shakes his head and removes a small object from his belt. 

“It wears off after a few hours,” he explains, showing you a tiny vial of amber liquid. “It will be just like falling asleep and then waking up.”

“I don’t care how adorable you are under the helmet,” you answer, speaking through set teeth. “Getting roofied by a Mandalorian was not in the brochure. Try again.”

“Eleanor – ”

“No!” You stomp your foot, livid. “Did it not occur to you that we should have discussed this, oh, I dunno, back on Tatooine?”

“I swear if I could do this any other way, I would,” he implores. “Putting you to sleep is the only way I can keep you safe.”  

The frustration is audible in his voice — frustration at himself, you realize, for his own oversight, and at the impossible situation he’s placed you in. 

“Jesus fucking Christ — fine.” You snatch the ampoule out of his hand, scowling. “How fast does this work?” 

“Seconds,” he answers readily. “It’s tasteless.”

You throw him a scornful look, grouchily unscrewing the top of the little vial. “Is that supposed to be some kind of selling point?”

“Thank you, mesh’la,” he says simply. 

You lift an eyebrow, unmoved. Mesh’la normally inspires at least a shiver or two, but not today. 

“You know the first thing I’m doing when I wake up is asking someone to tell me what that means, right?” you inform him. “And all the other nicknames you have for me?”

This is intended as an empty threat, until you hear the tell-tale strangled gulp from his helmet. 

Yeah, he’s toast.

Short Debts Make Long Friends - An over-educated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 19.3 snippet!

“I’m going to take care of you,” he breathes, moving overtop of you as you lay back. “You’re going to let me. Say it.”

You don’t seem to quite know how to respond – not much of a surprise, he’s never behaved in this manner before, but you reach for him without hesitation when he lowers himself between your thighs.

“Say it, cyare,” he urges, sliding an arm under your hips. 

You manage a faltered, “I’m going to let you –”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish, roughly pulling you forward to slot your pelvis against his. 

“It’s just you and me right now,” he continues, voice straining as he rewards you with a slow thrust. He dips his head, grazing his nose from the hollow of your throat, up to your neck and along your jawline, and murmurs into your ear. “Don’t think about anything else.”

“I won’t,” you promise, and gasp when he drives against you again, harder. 

“Nothing else,” he repeats. “Just this room, just this bed — just us.” 

“Just us,” you echo, panting now.

“Good girl,” he breathes approvingly. 

Short Debts Make Long Friends - An overeducated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.

LoOk, it iS an pOem !

"I hate the plot gremlins oh yes I do

this is the end of the haiku"

(I did a trial of a new antidepressant right after I updated SD last month. Pros: Titrating up to the full dose was akin to tripping balls resulted in some very productive text conversations between myself and colleagues.

Cons: Meds zapped the creative part of my brain. It's not an unknown side effect of psychotropic medication, I was able to switch to something different and I think it's a better fit, but OMG. Please send good vibes and remind me why I need to finish this story. I deal with writer's block constantly, but this is a different beast completely and it's freaking me out.

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Upcoming chapter snippet (Aladdin Easter egg included at no extra charge)

“What are your intentions in bringing her here?” the Armorer asks, directing her attention back to Mando. 

Oh, goody, you think sourly, unwrapping a fresh bacta patch. Yes, please talk about me like I’m not here. 

“Protection,” he answers. “I have — ” He sucks in a quick breath as you apply the patch to his leg, then doggedly continues on. “I have reason to believe she is being targeted by Gor Koresh’s people, to avenge his death.”

This is news to you, but you resume thinking sarcastic thoughts and start investigating the other contents in the medkit, pretending to be occupied. 

“She killed Gor Koresh?” 

The scathing commentary going through your mind does not improve. Has this woman looked at you?

Mando shakes his head. “I killed Gor Koresh.”

You recall a wisecracking blue genie and a certain red parrot, who thought he was going to have a heart attack and die from not-surprise. 

“Yet they target…her.” 

She is not making an idle observation. Far greater subtext is at play here, and Mando’s reluctance to reply instantly puts you on guard. What isn’t she saying?

“Tion’jor?” the Armorer inquires, calmly switching from Basic to Mando’a. 

Lady, if you think I’m not beyond using sex to get Mando to translate for me later, then there’s some swampland in Florida that’s got your name all over it…

Short Debts Make Long Friends - An over-educated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.

(Reblog and get your own snippet from Chapter 22 because I love attention.)

Image credit is thanks to the brilliance of @djarins-cyare , whose Photoshop skills spared you from the resultant fails of my trying to make a picture of Iago and Aladdin myself using AI. You haven't lived until you've seen Mando with a giant red plume sticking out of his helmet.

YT clip of Iago, in his not-surprised era

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 19 (part 1)

Chapter 19: I Don't Need to See Your Face; I Just Need You to Help Me Pretend

This is the big leagues? you were wondering as you followed Mando down the stairs to meet the man himself. This wasn’t even your worst Black Friday, when some asshole decoupaged all the dressing rooms with Christmas-themed hentai and you had to explain to your very, very sheltered manager why the tentacles were wearing Santa hats. 

But then Kaba happened, and everything surpassed all the Black Fridays, and your worst nightmares, too.

One minute, the porcine-faced Klatoonian was casually seated at his desk and weighing his options; the next, Mando had shoved you behind him and yelled, “Go!” over his shoulder.

This was your first chance to see the Darksaber in action, but you didn’t need to be told twice. As Kaba’s goons descended, you and D-5 had run for the exit, with full intention of booking it to the usual rendezvous point at the transit station.

You were halfway to the door when you heard it. You knew the sounds Mando made during a fight. Every grunt, every hiss and yelp, even the occasional curse that meant he’d been hurt. 

You had never heard that sound from him before. 

Autopilot clicked into gear, knocking self-doubt right out of the driver’s seat. 

You bolted back the way you came, instantly zeroing in the source of Mando’s agonized cry as soon as you ducked through the transparent strips of curtain – the patch of scorched, glowing flesh on his leg that should have been really well-done CGI, except you knew better.

Short Debts Make Long Friends - An overeducated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.

Anyone who reblogs gets a DM with a future snippet of their choice! (Humor, angst, sexyfuntimes.) You know you wanna...

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 19 (Part 3)

Chapter 19 (Part 3) - I Don't Need to See Your Face; I Just Need You to Help Me Pretend

“Tell me what you want, cyar’ika,” he urges, basking in every shallow, ragged breath and craving more. 

“You,” you pant. “All I want is you.” 

He momentarily loses his rhythm, and the phrase, “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” slips from his mouth. 

Mando’a is not his native tongue, but it is only in Mando’a that his words have ever been able to flow freely. He murmurs the truth to you now, ghosting his mouth against your brow and cheeks, intermingling wickedness and wistful dreams as he tells you everything. His fantasy of his old ship but a different room and a proper bed, waiting until he is absolutely certain the kid is asleep before making love to you in the dark. Capturing your sounds of pleasure with his lips as he brings you to release, seeking his own relief deep inside you – 

“What’s all that mean – ” you gasp as he runs out of breath and stops for air, “what’s…” 

This hapless utterance ends in a quavered moan. 

“It’s a promise,” Din answers huskily, voice roughening. He knows what you are asking, but right now he can tell you are close, and he is only just getting started.

Short Debts Make Long Friends - An overeducated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.

* Reblog and get a snippet from Chapter 20! 😱 *

(And, thank you guys for the good vibes and encouragement from last week. They worked!)

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 19 (Part 2)

Chapter 19 - I Don't Need to See Your Face, I Just Need You to Help Me Pretend (Part 2)

The shower door is wide open, and around the edge of the beveled glass he finds you sitting huddled on the floor, fully dressed, arms wrapped around your knees, heedless of the cold water raining down over your head. You haven’t stopped staring into space, but he misses the vacant gaze because the sorrow he sees in your eyes is paralyzing. He did this.

You show no sign of noticing as he steps into the cramped confines of the shower, but slump into him the moment he sits down beside you, and clutch onto his arm with both hands as you rest your head on his pauldron. 

“I keep seeing it,” you choke out.

No, I’m what you keep seeing, he amends silently. Darksaber held high, swinging down in a merciless descent and unfeelingly cleaving through a man’s body two times over.

“I wish I hadn’t seen it.” You’re speaking again, rambling, your words coming faster and faster. “But he was going to kill you. They all were, and I’m not sorry they’re dead, I’m not sorry any of them are dead, and I’m not sorry I helped, I’m glad.” 

You lift your head to look up at him, lips trembling and slightly bluish from cold. 

“Does that make me a monster?”

Oh, God, you actually mean it.

“Oh, cyare, no,” Din breathes, “No. You’re the farthest thing from.” 

You don’t believe him. Droplets cling to your lashes and cheeks, but he cannot separate the water from the tears as you tell him the words he has been dreading since the day he found a remnant of the life you had left behind:

“I wish I was home.” 

A lump rises in Din’s throat and swells to the point of pain, but he simply tucks you under his arm, bringing your head against his chest as he wraps you in.

“I know, mesh’la.” 

His voice is steady, but inside he is breaking. With his other arm, he reaches up to twist the tap above your heads, and as the water changes from cold to warm, he holds you close and repeats, “I know.”

Short Debts Make Long Friends - An overeducated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.

Same as last time, everyone who reblogs gets their own snippet! It's a good kind of pain...

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 19 (pt 2) Snippet

He lays stiffly beside you for a few seconds, willing his body to do something. Minus the bulk of his armor, the mattress should feel cavernous, but the walls won’t stop closing in. Should he scoot over? Try to talk to you? You have yet to move.

“Are you asleep?” he finally whispers. 

“No.” Your voice comes from over your shoulder, thin and hollow. “Just…here.”

So he’ll have to go to you, then. 

Steeling himself, Din props himself up on his elbow and edges closer. He has hugged you a number of times by now, and knows how to adjust his arms and torso relative to how you are positioned. This should be no different. It’s the same as hugging, just lying down. 

He makes it as far as hovering a hand's breadth away from your back and can go no further.  

It’s different. It’s so fucking different. If his job is to help you pretend you are home, he’s failed. Whoever had held you in bed before surely knew what they were doing. The only person he’s ever held in bed is Grogu, who preferred to lie sprawled on top of his chest. 

“Are you okay?” 

He jerks, startled. You sound worried – for him.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” he blurts out. “I don’t know how – how to –”

“How to hold someone?”

Din hopes you hear him nod because if he has to say the answer out loud, he’ll — actually, he doesn’t know what he’ll do, because right now he doesn’t know anything other than he hasn’t felt this mortified since…he doesn’t know that, either, but ‘ever’ isn’t out of the question. 

“Mando?”

“Yes?”

“How new is this for you?”

“...This part’s new,” he says stiltedly. His face is so red that you must feel the heat radiating off his cheeks. “If that’s what you mean.” 

This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea. You need a steadying presence, not a grown man too overwhelmed to take care of you. He should have given you the sleep strip like you asked for and offered to hold your hand until you fell asleep. He would rather suffer the disappointment of your rejection than the utter stupidity he is experiencing now. 

“Turn toward me,” you instruct, “onto your side.”

“Why?” he asks, alarmed. 

Still taking care not to look over your shoulder, you reach back with a hand, and motion for him to come closer. “I’m going to show you how to hold someone.”

Actual Chapter 19 Pt II will post May 4th :-D MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU, BITCHES.

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Can Your Helmet Play Elevator Music?

Can Your Helmet Play Elevator Music?

(something silly to tide you guys over until 19.3)

Eleanor: I changed locations Mando: WHAT - where did you go? Eleanor: The cafe Mando: WHY? Eleanor: I decided I was fit for public consumption Mando: Why did you move? Didn't I tell you to stay put? Mando: Are you sitting at the usual outside table? Eleanor: No, that fucking oompa loompa stole it Eleanor: Bitch Mando: I'm headed there now. Did you get another table outside? Eleanor: inside Eleanor: outside Eleanor: Upside Eleanor: it's all relative

This was the result of me being stoned out of my mind on prescription medication last month, and @djarins-cyare patiently playing along when I messaged her and said HEY I'M GONNA BE ELEANOR AND YOU'RE GONNA BE MANDO WOOOOOO

(@leithatnight, ask and you shall receive...!)

OK, back to evil chapter 19.3...

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Snippet from chapter 19

He lifts the helmet from his head, sets it aside, and turns to confront his reflection in the mirror. 

Dank farrik, he needs a haircut. 

He leans in to take a closer look at himself, frowning. All things considered, it could be worse. Split lip, and he’s got the beginnings of a black eye, but it’ll be dark and you won’t see, and the blood and grime will be easy to clean. But should he wash off or use the sonic? And shaving, when was the last time he shaved – 

Why is he even thinking about something as stupid as shaving! He told you he’d be a few minutes, and he’s already wasted, what, one minute – oh fuck it’s already been three —

He quickly concludes that anything that has touched the same air as Kaba Baiz needs to go in the sonic, his person included. As for what to put back on…

He releases the fasteners on his cuirass, thinking hard. His base layers are short sleeved. You are wearing short sleeves, and you have asked him to hold you in bed. The thought of touching your arms with his bare hands is intoxicating; any more mutually exposed skin and…

Shuddering, he hauls himself into the shower and starts peeling everything off. 

There is a reason he has always avoided sharing a bed. You never knew – you had left for the Cantina by then, thank God – but one single night spent lying beside you had resulted in a wet dream so vivid that he had woken up rutting the mattress. 

Part of the problem was simply being long overdue for release – raising Grogu did not lend itself to much time spent alone, and during the rare instances he found himself alone, he usually was too tired to entertain thoughts of anything other than sleep. But for a man accustomed to ignoring his baser instincts, that morning in Mos Eisley had left him shaken, nearly to the point of paranoia.

Din grimly looks down at the pile of clothing at his feet. The sonic’s as good as a disinfectant, but every fiber in his flight suit seems imbued with death, and he doesn’t have a spare.

Does that make me a monster?

He winces, remembering the torture in your eyes. He can’t wear the flight suit. He just can’t. He’ll just have to wear his base layers and stay awake till morning, which won’t be a problem because right now he is so keyed up that he will be awake until the day he dies.

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 18

“What if this happens again and I’m not there?” he presses, speaking over you.

“Well, aren’t you the bright little optimist,” you sneer. You plant your hands on your hips and throw him a smirk, but your haggard appearance ruins the fuck-you effect you’re aiming for. “Want me to get you a glass of water so you can tell me it’s half-empty?”

Din stares at you, at a loss. First you are angry at him for reacting how any sane person would during a medical emergency. Now you’re mad for suggesting you take measures to try and prevent it from happening again.  

“Why are you being like this?” he asks finally.

“I didn’t know I was being like anything,” you acidly inform him. “Sorry I’m not falling all over myself with gratitude. What do you want, a fucking thank you card?”

Din’s mouth thins to a hard, angry line. He built a career upon the ability to keep his temper in check, and has been taunted by smartasses far more cutting than you. But this brazen show of contempt has struck a nerve, and instead of appreciating the miracle of being able to even have such a stupid argument, he finds himself fighting the urge to grab you by the shoulders and give you a hard shake – something, anything to break you free of your own willful ignorance. 

“Oh, so you do want a thank you card.”

Of course he doesn't want a thank you card. He doesn't even want your gratitude. He just wants you to see a goddamn doctor.

You fold your arms across your chest with a huff, fed up. “Ugh, fine; spit it out, Mando — what am I being like?”

He grits his teeth, still not trusting himself to reply. What are you being like? What are you being like?

“Hello?” You reach up and snap your fingers in front of his visor, pulling a face at him when turns away. “Did you just switch off or is it time to talk about upgrading your AirPods?” 

Two decades of hard-won self-discipline is felled by a single mocking remark. 

Din turns, and in a rare display of raw emotion, slams his palm against the wall and shouts, “Like you don’t matter!”

Chapter 18: Your stunned silence is very reassuring

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[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - birthday edition!

SD turns three two today! Have an easter egg.

Oh, this is much worse

“What happened?” Din demands. You appear no worse for wear, but your smile seems oddly…manic?

“Aha! The prodigal husband returns!”

A sinking feeling invites itself into Din’s stomach and starts setting up headquarters. He knows that voice.

“It’s Mr. Satyyr!” you chirp as Din slowly angles himself between you and the jug-eared proprietor that has just appeared in the stockroom doorway. “From Mos Eisley, remember?”

Oh, he remembers. 

Mr. Satyyr graciously executes a quick, overly-unctuous bow. 

“Welcome to Huttson News!” he crows exuberantly. “I’m starting a franchise.”

“Eleanor, get your backpack,” Din instructs. “We’re leaving.” 

In his periphery, he sees Mr. Satyyr send him a sour look. Personally, Din doesn’t like the warning tone he’d heard in his voice either, but if playing the role of overbearing spouse is what’s required to be able to leave, then he’ll walk you through the Mandalorian marriage vows right now. 

“I have her scheduled to work the afternoon shift for the remainder of the week,” the shopkeeper testily informs him.

Din ignores him, too busy studying your face. He doesn’t remember your eyes being this dark…

Frowning, he increases the magnification on his visor. 

Goddamn it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask defensively, noticing his scrutiny.

He wordlessly unholsters his blaster and aims it at the shopkeeper.

“What did you do her?” 

“This is a respectable establishment, sir!” Mr. Satyyr exclaims, affronted, as if he isn’t staring down the barrel of an IB-94 blaster pistol. “Kindly put your weapon away!”

“He can’t,” you helpfully pipe up, “He’s covered in them.”

“What,” Din repeats, now speaking through clenched teeth, “Did you do to her?”

“Nothing, other than offer hydration and gainful employment," the man huffs. 

“Hey, guys,” you interject, “could y’all use quieter words? My juice is trying to sleep.” You point to the glass bottle sitting out on the counter — the hydration, Din surmises. It is half-empty and filled with a pale pink, crystalline liquid.

The sinking feeling in his stomach sends a jaunty wave to its good old friend, dread. 

“What are you drinking?”

“Snapple,” you reply, and belligerently unscrew the top to take a deliberate gulp. 

“My dear, where did you get that?” 

Din tears his gaze away from you. Mr. Satyyr’s relentlessly effusive demeanor suddenly appears to have developed a crack in its armor. 

“The refrigerated case in the back,” you answer. “Where you keep the things you said weren’t ChiggerBurgers.”

“Ah. Yes. I see. I meant the other case. Not to worry, just a simple mixup…”

Din gingerly extracts the bottle from your hand and takes a cautious sniff. The unmistakable scent of high-proof alcohol  burns the back of his throat, along with notes of – 

His eyes fly accusingly to Mr. Satyyr. 

“This is fire spice.” You might as well have been drinking high-octane rocket fuel spiked with a chaser of barrel-aged spotchka. 

“Oh, this is much worse,” the proprietor muses thoughtfully, still observing you. “It’s whitefire. The good stuff.”

You look at both of their faces and blanch. 

“Oh, God. This doesn’t have sex pollen in it, does it?” 

Link to main fic: Short Debts Make Long Friends - An overeducated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.

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