#Luke pls don't put a leaf on my son's head how is that going to help

[ephemeralgalaxies]

Dinluke headcanons but Luke is a jewelry-making mage in the woods p1

Din is in-between jobs when Fennec mentions to him in passing on a video call (after Boba has left the room) that there's a temp job available at a car repair shop in a small town in the foothills of this mountain two hours away from his last location.

Din isn't convinced, but after Fennec not-so-subtly sends him articles and curriculums of the elementary school, Din can no longer use Grogu as an excuse to stay put (especially after he has to pick Grogu up from school because some kid ripped the ears off of his frog-hood jacket and Grogu refused to go back to class).

The town really isn't that bad-- calm streets and lots of greenery. There hasn't been a real safety threat in years (anytime someone would start to break that, they would suddenly freeze in place, eyes burning with fear. They would leave town by the next morning).

No, the real issue for Din comes with the whispers ever so quiet-- like the echo of fairytale. Dangerous and unwilting, yet so so faint Din almost missed it.

The way the fog rolls in at early morning when no sane soul would be awake (as for Din, permanently acquainted with the 3am breeze that chills his temples and dries the tear stains that he washes off before his son can glimpse into his past). The way the flowers seemed to bloom just a bit too late, like grasping for that last once of hidden life before exposing themselves to the harshness of vases and bouquets and gravestones. The way the sun is warm and the ground is soft beneath Din's feet in the afternoon, how the heat still radiates in the evening but dew still forms in the morning. The way Grogu smiles every time he visits that one jewelry-maker at the edge of the town square, gripping the yellow crystals like a lifeline. The gentle huff and poised wave as the artist lets Din get away without paying every time-- despite Din's persistence, "these have to be worth a lot," and "please, he's going to rob you dry like this," but the man with golden hair and bright blue eyes simply shakes his head twice each time and with such guarded attention smiles at the little boy, mesmerized by his stone, and wishes them a good day.

And Din cannot, for the life of him, understand the trembling and harsh hushes and brisk shifts to the side from the town as Luke walks by. The unguarded whispers for such a guarded man-- the seething wariness for such a gentle and composed person. Luke Skywalker, the light of Grogu's day, the slight stutter in Din's heart, the tempting fondness desperate to leak from those blue eyes.

He doesn't understand.

Until he does.

Until he feels Grogu tense in his arms, yellow pendant cracking beneath his palm. Until he looks back up at the artist behind the table whose bright blue eyes are now dark and steady and dangerous. Until he hears the screams across the street, and then the explosion, the metal flying through the air, so close to Grogu, so close so close so--

Until he turns to shield Grogu and Luke from whatever comes-- but it never does.

Until he's clutching his son tight to his chest with one arm and holding Luke behind his table with the other and doesn't feel the collision, the pain, the dizziness he knows he should feel-- that he has felt before.

What he does feel, is a pair of bright blue eyes baring into his skull with shock and worry and fondness-- completely unguarded fondness.

And the heat of a yellow light bursting in rays from his son's closed palm.

Part 2: https://ephemeralgalaxies.tumblr.com/post/662168681451765760/dinluke-hc-but-luke-is-a-magejeweler-p2

Part 3: https://ephemeralgalaxies.tumblr.com/post/663623615008440320/mage-jewelerluke-dinluke-hc-part-3

Update: I published the fic on ao3!!! Currently, there are two chapters uploaded, but more to come 😊. It's called "Where the Poets Went to Die" by willowisp317