#The Armorer is Din's mom

[bon-sides-sw]

When you're littol, just swore your creed, also have a younger brother

S3 Inspired my to draw bebi Din and Paz

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

For the "I hate you don't mess with me but I've got your back" brother dynamic, may I present Din Djarin and Paz Vizsla. (The Armorer is totally the mom, of course; we'll get to her in a minute.)

***Example 1:

Paz: You're a coward for making deals with Imps.

Din: You're just jealous of my beskar.

Result: knives out

Later: Paz helps save Din and Grogu

***Example 2:

Paz: I WILL kill you for that sword.

Din: Bring it.

Result: duel

Later: Din helps save Ragnar.

***Example 3:

Din: Please everyone let's go help my friend on Nevarro so maybe we can move off Planet Space!Australia and have a 95% less chance of being eaten by wildlife.

Paz: scoffs Why should we help you? also immediately answers BECAUSE WE'RE MANDALORIANS and all y'all better agree to help my bro because I said so!

Result: Din and Paz actually don't fight each other this time

Later: Nevarro is freed and the Mandalorians only have to deal with raptavians for a few weeks

Meanwhile, the Armorer is the mom in the background facepalming over their shenanigans but figuring it's best if they work it out themselves before suddenly realizing - "Oh wait, they're actually about to kill each other right about now, I'd better intervene."

Except for the last example where she's pleasantly surprised for once, like - "Hey, maybe they are learning!!!"

[gabrielislovegabrielislife]

Saving Ragnar

Paz Vizsla x reader

Mandalorian S3 E4 SPOILERS!

no beta read, we die like the younglings

1566 words, angst with a happy ending, no y/n

Literally just self-indulgence.

“Mom, are you sure I’m ready to start sparring with the others?”

“Of course you are sweetheart. Why wouldn’t you be?” I respond, brushing some dust off of his brand-new helmet.

“Well… I’m… I haven’t been with the covert as long as the other kids. What if I haven’t trained enough. What if I embarrass you and dad. What if–” I hold up a hand to stop him and pull him into a hug.

“Ragnar, you could never embarrass us. We love you very much and know you have trained more than enough. But failing in a sparring match will teach you things that you will not learn otherwise.” I take his hands and crouch so we are eye to eye, well… visor to visor, “remember what we have taught you and trust yourself.”

“I’ll try.” he sighs. I shake my head.

“Don’t try. Do.” I say softly.

“She’s right.” I hear from the entryway of our little home alcove. I see my husband leaning against the wall. He walks towards us and crouches next to me, putting a hand on Ragnar’s shoulder, “We are so proud of you, and no matter what happens today, we know you will learn from today.”

Ragnar takes a deep breath and nods.

“Come, the others have already begun training,” Paz says, standing up and patting our son on the shoulder. This seems to get the young boy excited, he practically runs out of the alcove.

“He will be fine cyare,” Paz says, putting an arm around my shoulders.

“I know that, but does he?” I sigh.

“Let’s go find out.”

….

A few minutes later, Ragnar has begun his first-ever sparring match.

It begins quite mildly, with a little bit of a scuffle as both children try to gain the upper hand, but Ragnar comes out on top, throwing his opponent in the sand.

Once declared the winner, he looks over to us, watching from a distance. I clang my vambraces together in excitement.  He nods and brings his focus back to the judge. It is then that I notice Din’s little one standing across from Ragnar as if to challenge.

“Is he putting his baby into a match?” Paz asks no one in particular.

“He knows his child best,” I respond, continuing to watch as Din convinces the judge it will be ok.

Ragnar chooses to fight with darts to which Paz remarks, “good choice.”

While waiting for the training darts, Ragnar begins speaking to Din, asking why the child does not wear a helmet, then saying he is too young to fight. Din reminds him of part of the Creed, sounding a little bit passive-aggressive, but whatever, that's just Din.

I sigh when Ragnar speaks, “Well, I know.”

“Well, we know what he will learn today then,” Paz states, a smile in his voice at his son’s sass.

After a moment of Din teaching Grogu how to fire the darts, the match begins.

The first two points go to Ragnar, quite easily, seeing as Grogu looked like he did not know what to do.

After another brief talk from Djarin, the next round begins.

Ragnar fires his dart the same as before, but this time, the small child jumps out of the way and completely over him, then back to his original position, firing all three darts and winning the challenge.

Ragnar looks around, confused, before looking back at us. I nod to him as Paz says, “One doesn’t speak unless one knows.”

Ragnar visibly sighs before walking toward an empty part of the beach to calm down.

“A valuable lesson has been learned today,” the Armorer speaks up, “go make sure he remembers it.”

We both nod and begin walking toward our son, but the flying beast comes flying over the mountain.

My heart stops, this creature has been picking us off for weeks, and it is flying directly toward the easiest target.

My son.

I'm not even sure I'm breathing as I take to the sky, willing my jetpack to go faster and faster, but it is still not enough. The beast is getting further and further ahead, Ragnar still flailing in its talons.

My pack begins to run out of fuel and I feel tears streaming under my helmet. I whisper, “please…no.”

I am forced to land, Paz and Din not far behind.

Even though I can't fly, I can still run, so I do. I don't even think as I hurdle over rocks and bushes, ignoring the burning in my legs and lungs.

I don’t notice my husband and friend running behind me to stop me until they each grab one of my arms.

“No! We have to get him! I can’t lose him!” I scream, fighting to get out of their hold.

“We can’t get him like this, we need to regroup. Look,” Din points, “Bo-katan is following the beast to its nest. When she comes back we will know exactly where it is.” he reasons.

I take a deep breath, following the ship with my eyes.

….

When Bo-katan vets back to the covert she immediately proposes a plan to save the boy.

We leave the covert within the hour and land where we have to start walking.

The sun is setting by the time we reach the peak holding the nest.

We make camp for the night. I help prepare the food, thankful for something to keep my mind off of my son, who will have to spend the night alone and scared in the lair of the beast.

Din explains how meals work in groups like this as the food is distributed.

Bo stands up to find somewhere to eat, but Paz stops her. “You are the leader of the war party. You have the honor of staying by the fire. This is the Way.” he says, taking my hand so we can find a place to eat together.

We eat in silence, having nothing to say in this solemn environment.

Fifteen minutes later, our helmets are back on, and we are back with the group, settling down for the night.

Sleeping on the ground next to my husband is not an unfamiliar experience, but it seems wrong to sleep when my child is not safe at home, surrounded by his family. I stay silent I feel tears reach my eyes.

Paz seems to sense my distress in his sleep as he pulls me closer to him, mumbling nonsense as he dreams.

Eventually, my tears fade and the feelings of fear and sadness in my heart are replaced with resolve, we will get our son back.

I don't know when or how I fell asleep but I am woken by my husband, who is gently shaking my shoulder.

The second I remember where we are and why, I’m up.

We have a short breakfast before re-stating the plan and beginning the climb up the peak.

Reaching the bundle of branches and sticks, I notice the eerie silence within the nest. Once we reach the edge of the nest, Din scans the area, pointing out heat signatures from the left.

Paz takes off immediately, against everyone’s protests, “He’s my son!” he says running in the direction Din pointed, shouting for our son.

He is knocked over by three baby beasts screeching and snapping at him, hungry for food. The mother comes flying up to the nest, alerted by the babies’ noise.

Paz covers himself with parts of the nest, trying to hide from the bird.

The bird begins regurgitating something for the young ones, and I almost lose my grip on the edge of the nest when I see that something is my son.

“Help me!” he calls out when he sees us.

I let out a breath of relief as Paz exclaims “He's alive!”

Paz activates his jetpack, flying toward the creature’s face to get it to drop Ragnar. The beast holds Paz in its mouth and Ragnar in its talons as it takes off, the war party not far behind.

Bo-katan is the first to attempt to grab Ragnar, getting smacked down by a wing in the process.

I am the next one to approach, grabbing Ragnar’s hand and pulling. He didn't budge.

I latch onto the creature’s ankle, pulling out my blade to get it to loosen its grip.

I didn't account for getting scratched off the leg by the other foot, earning deep gashes on my elbow and side.

I cry out as I fall, spinning out of control until I steady myself with my pack, landing on the side of a peak.

Paz is then released from the beast’s jaws as Bo-katan stabs its face. He lands right next to me, groaning in pain.

“Are you alright?” I breathe.

“Yes, you?”

“I’ll live,” I respond, holding a hand to one of the deeper gashes.

We watch as Din lands a successful stab at the creature’s ankle. It drops Ragnar and Din races to stop his fall.

He latches onto Ragnar just as the others take down the beast, flying him over to where we hold on to the rocks.

When they land Paz firmly asks, “are you okay?” Ragnar clambers over to me, clinging to my chest before breathlessly answering, “I’m okay dad.”

“Thank you,” I say to Din over Ragnar’s helmet.

“This is the Way” he replies

“This is the Way” we echo.

[kalevalakryze]

Bo, in the kitchen at 0200, drinking a juice box:

Din, who came in for a glass of water: how did you get in our house?

Bo, pointing to The Armorer’s room: I’m your new stepdad. R.I.P your juice boxes.

[merrysithmas]

the ending of that ep said: paz and din ship bo katan x armorer & support their inter-sect romance🥹

and i think that's beautiful

[fuckedupsociety155]

Ok. So...

I have thoughts about this episode that are all over the place (like this season) sooooo.... LIST:

- Omg, Grogu got the most annoying gift ever and since he's a little shit (affectionate) he inmidiately started commiting crimes. IN FRONT OF HIS FATHER.

- The tone of this show feels like it's shifting but has actually kinda always been there(? It's just that it used to be way more centered on Din (who knows nothing about the galaxy) and Grogu, and now it's expanding. I guess the thing that gives me eh? Feelings is the shift of the main character focus. Cuz it's like Bo's A main character but she is being used as the secondary character in the story of the secondary character of her story. Does that make sense??? Whatever.

- Getting interesting with the plot.

- Honestly, the scene between din and bo in the boat didn't really felt romantic in nature to me(? Like, it felt like reassurance coming from Din, as in "I see something special in you and I declare my devotion because I respect you and you're my family now, srry, you're stuck with me, byesss". Cuz like, that's who din is. I'm not saying that they are definitely not being built upon to make them a couple, but this scene in particular didn't feel like that. Maybe it's just me not getting what they're trying to convey. Maybe din should have lingered a little longer to create the funny tension between them. Idk.

- How did the imperial that killed the doctor know about the mandos moves? Was it because of last episodes events? Cuz of the republic being infiltrated? Not an opinion, genuine question, I got lost there.

- If dinbo becomes canon (which I still would rather not but I'm mostly against in a joky way), I just hope it happens in the most bisexual vibes way. Like so queer you forget it's straight. Ykwim? Haha

- Paz vizla died right? Well, that was sad. I wonder if his son will be adressed, since we've seen him and all. Is he gonna appear again? Be relevant to the plot? Idk

- Din falling to his knees did things to me that I don't know how to explain. Cuz my family has like the worse knees and when I saw that my knees started screaming, like ajshhdksjdjdj, idk how to explain it but it was very personal to me.

I have spoken or whatever.

[idkbishsss]

Bo-Katan in an argument with Din: I FUCKED YOUR MOM

Paz listening in: HUN?!?

Loud running

The Armorer teaching Grogu: And that is how we make helmets-

Paz: YOU SLEPT WITH BO-KATAN?!?

[cyarikaplease]

say no to this

step dad!din djarin x f!reader

summary: you have sex with your step dad in the mines of mandalore

warnings: explicit smut, must be 18 years or older to read, step-cest, if that is not your thing then please click away

Life on Mandalore has been nothing short of hectic. It’s not that you don’t like having the clans living amongst each other. But the fact of the matter is you don’t feel like Mandalore is your home. You didn’t grow up on Mandalore and based on the legends you didn’t understand why the others were so determined to come back. And now that you’re living here, you still don’t get it.

They’ve done their best to make the place feel more like a home. Houses made of stone have been built but they’re more utilitarian than cozy. They’re still trying to figure out what land can be used for farming and it’s a miracle no one’s starving yet.

And then there’s your mother. Your mother decided to get remarried once you got settled here and she chose to marry none other than Din Djarin. You expected your mom to get married again sooner or later. She’s been lonely since your father passed away during battle many cycles ago. But you didn’t expect her to marry Din. You’ve heard the rumors about him but you didn’t meet him until right before everyone went to reclaim Mandalore. You didn’t have time to address your attraction to him back then but that’s when it started. Between the saunter in his step, how broad he is, and his brilliant silver armor you’re head over heels. Not to mention how good he is with his then-foundling and now son, Grogu.

He’s been the only person concerned about your transition to life on Mandalore. As if your attraction to Din needed to grow any deeper. Your mother has been busy with Bo-Katan and the Armorer, developing infrastructure and surveying land for farming. Which left you alone with Din and Grogu. He’s been great with checking in with you here and there.

On the rare occasions when he went with the others to attend to matters, you were left to watch over Grogu. And it made you seethe with jealousy. Not that you didn’t like watching Grogu. You just felt like you should be out there with your man. Because deep down, you developed not only a crush but a slightly possessive one at that.

You think he feels it, too. There have been times when his visor lingers on you. And although you can’t see his face like he can see yours, you can only imagine what his expression is like underneath his helmet. Or it’s a pat on your shoulder or his hand on the small of your back as he’s trying to scooch behind you. It’s literally anything. It doesn’t matter what because your mind has convinced you that he wants you like you want him. Sometimes you think you’re crazy, that you’re foolish for believing that your stepdad could possibly be into you.

But maybe you’re not so crazy after all.

It’s another typical day for you. You’re sitting outside, looking up at the muddled atmosphere. You sense Din beside you out of your peripheral, towering above you.

“Doing alright?” he asks, crouching down to sit beside you. He sets Grogu down, letting him waddle around on the rocks, lifting a few of the small ones with the Force.

“Not really. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me. What can I help you with?”

“Probably nothing. I’m just never going to get used to this place being home.”

“Can I suggest something?”

“What is it?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“What about doing some things to feel more connected to the creed?”

“Like what?”

“Have you visited the Living Waters?”

“No.”

“I would start there.”

“I thought you only had to go there if you messed up. You know… like you did,” you joke.

“Very funny,” he deadpans.

“But I’ll go if you think it’ll help.”

He scoops Grogu into his arms and stands, offering his free hand to help you up. You grab your helmet and take his hand, standing so close to him it makes your stomach flutter. You look down before replacing your helmet on your head and see his hand flex after he lets it go. And it leaves you wondering what that could mean.

You bid him goodbye, feeling his visor burn a hole into you walk away. The journey to the Living Waters is uneventful. Most if not all of the threats were cleared out by the others a while ago.

Once you get there you take off your helmet and jetpack, sitting on the stone floor by the water's edge and enjoying the solitude. It’s actually peaceful down here and you hate feeling that way. You’ve gotten so used to being apathetic about every aspect of this place that feels weird to enjoy something here for once. Since moving here you’ve gotten used to being alone, since your mother and the other clan members have been so busy. Aside from the moments with Din and Grogu, of course. But here it feels like you’re alone on your own terms like you chose for it to be this way instead of the others just abandoning you.

“How are you doing?” a voice says behind you.

You startle with a jolt, turning your torso to get a glance at who’s there. It’s Din, of course. Who else would it be? No one else cares this much to come all this way to see how you’re doing. You’re surprised you didn’t hear him but you must’ve been too far in your own head, reflecting.

“I don’t mind it down here,” you say, turning to face the water again.

He detaches his jetpack and sits beside you like he did on the surface, but this time he spins around to face your side, back nice and straight up nice and straight with his hands resting on his knees. You scooch around to meet him in the middle, both of you facing each other. Grogu’s noticeably absent this time.

“Where’s Grogu?”

“Playing with the other younglings.”

“My mother?”

“Still with Bo-Katan and the others. Something about planting a few test crops to see how they take.”

“Ahh.”

“Just admit you like it down here,” he says. You can just by his voice that he’s wearing a smug grin on his face.

“Fine,” you roll your eyes, “But don’t tell anyone. Or else they’ll start asking me to help out.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m just glad something finally got you to feel better. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

“Yeah…” you trail off. You turn your head back towards the water and ask, “But why do you care so much?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you care if I’m happy or not?”

“I know what it’s like to move to a strange place, to feel like you don’t fit in.”

You stifle a snort, prompting him to ask, “What?”

“When have you ever felt like you didn’t fit in?” you say, turning your head back towards him.

“Lots of times. Especially when I’m the only Mandalorian in a room.”

“Oh yeah? So what did you do to make yourself feel better?”

“It’s empowering not to fit in.”

“How so?”

“It means there’s something about you that sets you apart from the others.”

“I don’t think I have that.”

“You do. You just don’t see it.”

“And what’s that?”

“Your spunk.”

“My spunk?”

“Yeah. You’re not afraid to let your mother have it. That’s for sure.”

That gets you to laugh, a real laugh. Maker, you haven’t laughed or felt this much joy since before you moved here.

“Thanks for saying all that,” you say, inching closer to him.

“I mean it,” he says, leaning forward.

Without thinking you inch closer even more and now the gap between you two is almost nonexistent. You gaze directly into his visor, imagining what he looks like underneath his helmet. As if he read your mind, he gravitates his hands towards the bottom edge of his helmet, lifting it off of his head. You throw your hand over your eyes out of respect. Is he crazy? He just redeemed himself for doing this not that long ago.

“You can look. We’re a part of the same clan after all.”

His voice. His unmodulated voice.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yes really,” he chuckles.

You put your hand back in your lap slowly, taking in his appearance. He’s better than you ever could’ve imagined. His brown curls are slightly matted from his helmet, albeit in a cute way. His facial hair is slightly graying along his jawline. And his eyes, so warm and brown they make you melt.

You’re so close to him that his warm breath tickles your face. He’s so intoxicating it makes your mind short-circuit. Without thinking you lean forward, closing the small and almost nonexistent gap between you two, pressing your lips against his. He freezes, his body going tense and stiff before melting into the kiss. His hand finds your chin, his rugged and calloused fingers gingerly touching your skin. The kiss grows more and more passionate; more heated. His tongue brushes against your lips, begging for access. But it’s almost like that brings you back down to reality. This isn’t just any man you’re kissing. This is your stepdad.

You pull back and look at the water again, hoping that he doesn’t notice how flustered you are.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t be sorry. You were just acting on your feelings.”

“My feelings?” you say, looking at him again and raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, your feelings. It was only a matter of time before you acted on them.”

Your heart drops to your stomach.

“H-How long have you known?”

“A while. Since before your mother and I got married.”

You place your head in your hands, mortified and groaning in embarrassment. You feel him inch closer again, bringing his head by your ear like he’s whispering a secret.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I feel the same way,” he whispers, tickling the shell of your ear.

“You do?!” you ask in disbelief, poking your head up.

“Mhm,” he says, kissing you again with the same grip on your chin.

“But aren’t we breaking the creed?” you ask, pulling away again but hovering over his lips.

“Look where we are, cyar’ika. We can just bathe in the Living Waters after.”

“I guess you’re right…”

“Relax, mesh’la. Let me take care of you.”

He gently pushes you so you’re lying on the stone floor. He pulls off one of his gloves and hovers over you, ghosting his fingers over the fly on your flight suit. You’re embarrassed by how wet you are already. But it’s natural given how much you’ve fantasized about this moment. You just didn’t expect it to take place here beside the Living Waters.

He opens the fly of your flight suit and palms the wetness in your underwear. His mouth curves into a devious smirk before he bites his bottom lip. You look down between your legs and see the bugle in his fight suit, his cock hard and straining against the fabric.

“You’re so wet, cyar’ika. I’ve barely touched you.”

You whimper in response and he chuckles darkly, watching as you writhe under his touch. He loves every minute of it.

“Have you touched yourself and thought of me?”

Your mouth opens to respond but no words come out, surprised at his bold question.

“You can tell me, cyar’ika.”

“Y-Yes,” you admit.

“What did you think about?”

“Uh, something not too far off from this.”

“Tell me,” he repeats.

“You sneaking into my room at night, touching me while I sleep.”

“Dirty girl,” he says, resting on the back of his heels. He opens your flight suit more, taking your underwear in his hands and ripping apart the fabric. You gasp but he doesn’t stop, tearing your underwear in half before pulling them off of you and tossing them to the side.

“Din!” you say, turning your head and glancing at the strewn fabric.

“Need you. Now,” he grunts, taking his pointer and middle fingers in his mouth, slicking them with his saliva. You spread your thighs apart farther, aching for his touch already. He slides his pointer finger inside you, curling it painstakingly slowly against your g-spot.

“Mm, Din please, I need more,” you whine.

“Are you begging?” he asks, hovering his face mere inches above yours.

“Kriff… Yes, I am.”

“Say it.”

“I need more… more fingers,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he praises, pushing his middle finger inside you.

Soon the cavern is filled with your moans, echoes bouncing off the rocky walls. He brings his head over your cunt, spitting a wad of saliva over your clit before rubbing his thumb over it. Your back arches up off the floor and he steadies you with his other hand on your hip.

“Wanna feel you cum all over my fingers, cyar’ika. Can you do that for me?”

“Harder,” you beg.

He obliges, picking up the pace of his fingers inside you and his thumb on your clit. With one last push against your g-spot, you cum, walls clenching and releasing his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, astonished at the amount of wetness you produced.

You ride out your high with a jumbled string of moans, whimpers, and curse words, letting your orgasm subside. He pulls his hand from you, holding his fingers above your mouth. They glisten under the dim lights of the mine.

“Open,” he commands.

You do as you’re told, opening your mouth for him. He places his fingers inside your mouth and you taste yourself on your tongue. He guides your mouth close with a hand on your jaw, commanding again, “Suck my fingers.”

Once he’s decided you’ve done enough, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and grabs your chin, kissing you deeply while his other hand pulls out his cock. He rests on his heels and takes off his other glove, gathering your spend and slathering it on his cock. You prop yourself up on your elbows to get a look and somehow it’s more than you could’ve ever imagined it to be— long, thick, and uncut.

“Are you ready, cyar’ika?” he asks, hovering over you again and coaxing you to lie back down.

You nod and he thrusts into you slowly, burying himself down to the hilt.

“You feel so good like this pussy was made for me,” he says, nestling his head into the crook of your neck and sinking his teeth in your skin. Your response is barely coherent, another mix of moans and curse words.

“Use your words, cyar’ika.”

“Harder, p-please. I can take it.”

He pokes his head up and meets your gaze again, lips curled into that damn devious smirk.

“I knew you could,” he says before kissing you. He draws his hips and slams into you. It’s a symphony of pants, whimpers, the sound of skin slapping against skin, and the wet, squelching sound your pussy makes. You tangle your hands in his hair, tugging on it lightly. He moans into the kiss and thrusts into you harder, until you cum around his cock. He pulls his head back and studies your face as you cum. Tears roll down your cheeks as your orgasm ripples through you, core muscles spasming erratically.

“Good girl,” he says, repeating it over and over again while the pace of his thrusts never falters.

He cums inside you, balls deep and hitting the deepest angles inside you. You’re filled with the warm feeling of his release, looking at his face as he cums. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open in a soft O. The curls on his forehead are matted with sweat and sticking to his forehead. You can’t help but absentmindedly bring a hand to his cheek and stroke his facial hair. He’s beautiful.

He pulls out of you and sits between your legs. The post-orgasm clarity is settling in and you’re left with the reality of what just happened. You zip up your flight suit and sit up, looking at him with a wild expression in your eyes.

“What now?”

“Into the waters we go.”

He puts his cock away and stands up, offering you his hand. You stand and walk down the steps with him, slowly submerging yourself in the water, never letting go of his hand.

“Repeat after me: I swear on my name. And the names of the Ancestors, that I shall walk the way of the Mand’alor… and the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”

You say the phrase back to him, looking in his eyes the entire time. Although you’ve just repented for your transgressions, you can’t help but feel like it doesn’t matter. The feelings you have for him only run deeper after what just happened.

He leads you out of the water where you replace your helmets and reattach your jetpacks. He turns to you one last time before leaving and says, “No one can know.”

“No one can know,” you repeat before he takes off and you’re left with the stillness of it all, wondering if that will be the first and last time you have sex with your stepdad.

-

@pedrostories @littlemisspascal

[justanotherdinboshipper]

Grogu is Dinbo's Child

It's adorable that Din and Grogu both have the same symbol of their clan on their armor-The Mudhorn. It signifies the moment a bond/relationship was formed between them. Since Episode 2 of Season 1 The Child, they slowly became each other's family.

But have we all forgotten the possibility that Grogu still has that Mythosaur necklace Din gave him?

And who has a Mythosaur symbol on the same right pauldron where Din has the Mudhorn's signet? Bo-Katan Kryze.

And all of it is in the same style—unpainted pure beskar!

If Grogu still has that necklace, then he carries both Dad and Mom's Din and Bo's signets: the Mudhorn and the Mythosaur. And since Din was the original owner of the necklace, it isn't just Grogu's; it’s also Din's.

I saw somewhere that Season 3, Episode 2, "The Mines of Mandalore," has direct parallels with Season 1, Episode 2, "The Child."

In both episodes, Grogu forms a connection with both Din and Bo.

In both episodes, Din and Bo protect Grogu in the same manner, by pushing his pram away from danger.

In both episodes, Grogu witnesses Din and Bo's combat skills firsthand.

And that line from Bo-Katan, "Do you think your dad was the only Mandalorian?" is like telling Grogu that his mom is also a Mandalorian. Just saying.

In both episodes, Din and Bo encounter a creature that becomes the signet of their right pauldrons.

Additionally, Din is saved in both instances by someone his group considers an enemy.

And explain why Bo left her new pauldron unpainted, like Din's, when she could have painted it blue. It's not like the Armorer didn't have any blue paint. It was a deliberate choice.

In Season 1, Episode 2, Din and Grogu started their journey as a clan of two. Since that moment, they were never separated. Grogu goes wherever Din goes. Of course, they were temporarily separated in the Season 2 finale, and that lasted for two whole years. But look, they still came back to each other because their relationship was already forged.

In Season 3, Episode 2, Din, Grogu, and Bo started their journey as a clan of three. Since that moment, the three of them have spent each episode together, never allowing themselves to be separated. Wherever she goes, Din and Grogu go as well.

But then the finale happened, and they were separated. However, since the bond was already forged, it was only a temporary separation. They will be back together once more, and when they do, they'll officially be a family, a clan of three.

In the finale of Season 3, Grogu sensed the Mythosaur at the moment when he and Din were officially announced to be a family. Did it just come back in that one moment randomly? No, I don't think so. It could be foreshadowing that someone would also be an official part of their family that carries that same symbol of the creature Grogu felt.

I believe Grogu should be next in line after Bo-Katan, considering the darksaber was originally owned by a Mandalorian Jedi Knight. Grogu essentially embodies these roles already. Many of us found it amusing that Grogu was randomly knighted in "Guns for Hire," but was it really random? He just needs to be officially named the heir to the throne. The most logical way for him to inherit the throne would be if Din Djarin and Bo-Katan got married.

I can already imagine how Grogu could possibly unite everyone. He would embody both Bo-Katan and Satine's visions for Mandalore. Bo-Katan, along with Din, represents the warrior aspect of the Mandalorians, while Grogu, as a Jedi, stands for peace, reflecting Satine's ideals for Mandalore. Grogu could carry both of these philosophies, making it not just Bo-Katan's legacy, but also Satine's.

Also, in Season 3, Episode 7, notice how Grogu is the only one able to step in and stop Axe and Paz from killing each other? Leader vibes already.

[pedge-page]

Question or what do you think kinda thing .

So this relates to mommy kinks and breastfeeding kinks other then Joel do we think any of pedros other characters would also have those kinks??

Such a random thought for 8am on a Sunday morning 😂

There are not other acceptable sunday 8am thoughts but this one. Ok here are our contenders:

Dieter Bravo: I've not seen the Bubble but from what I can gather this man is a mommy kink titty sucking fiend. Possibly the #1 most Canon concept for a pedro character and breastfeeding. He would have no shame inviting you to set, sit on his lap between interviews or shoots in his actors chair, and lap up your milk as a way of relieving any stress and getting a quick snack. No shame. You are there for him and that's all that matters. It gets him into focus and ready for a scene. He also fucks you night and day, in the trailer, sound booth, behind stage, makeup room, and lunch break. Everyone can hear him shouting "Mommy!" Followed by desperate rutting behind doors and walls, and they've learned to keep going and act like its totally normal.

Frankie Morales: 50% of Frankie is written as strong, quiet but in control, dominating, fuck machine. Then theres the other 50% that gives mommy needy boy, and I can totally see that big broad military man needing to unfurl under some breastmilk and tender care. Who in the military DOESNT need mommy touch honestly like??? Frankie is no different. It'd be your secret thing with him. Getting him restless like a needy kitten before letting him indulge his desires. He becomes very pliant, soft and gentle when he gets his fill.

Din Djarin: once again, half the time hes painted as cold hearted, steel cocked fuck boy. The other half, needy subby baby. Realistically, he is intimidating, threatening, domineering on the outside, but we've all seen what a wet pathetic crying mess of a little cat he is once they helmet comes off. Boy is LOST sexually if the helmet has to come off. BUT, breastfeeding can go both dominant and submissive for him. He'll manhandle you onto his ship and shuck your clothes off right after a failed hunt hed been at for days. And the only thing that can get his frustration out is the sweet taste of your milk. Also din doesn't exactly have a mom growing up after she died and the best he had was the armorer who isnt exactly the most nurturing. So mommy issues? Check. Next.

Marcus Acacius: we haven't even met him yet but I just KNOW this man drinks breastmilk morning, afternoon, and night. Maybe not so much mommy kink, but we already know he's a conplete simp for Lucilla. Also, a man doesn't get that beefed, that large, that good at defending an empire just from meat. Hes sucking down breastmilk, and he's always famished in an aggressive way about it. He demands milk, and milk he shall have. And since its ancient Rome and we don't have refrigeration, he needs his milking ladies by his side at all times whenever he craves it. Plus carrying a goat around all the time is less cool.

90s Poloroid Joycam Commercial Pedro: that guy. That guy combusts every time he sees titties. Guys his age are addicted to sex, drugs, alcohol, but his burning addiction is breastmilk. He doesn't have a technique, doesn't know what to do once his tongue is on the nipple, awkwardly trying to insert himself and wrap his lankyness around you, but once he tastes that first drop of milk, he's gushing in his pants and moaning with heart eyes.

[dindjarindiaries]

The Rising Phoenix - Chapter One

series masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

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pairing ➵ din djarin x fem!oc rating ➵ mature (18+) tags ➵ enemies to lovers, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, trauma, eventual/mild smut, strong language, sexual references word count ➵ 3.847k chapter summary ➵ This year's team of Mandalorian recruits embark on their journey to Kyrbej, their home for the next brutal cycle.

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CHAPTER ONE

I tie off my right boot and stand up, facing the reflection of myself in the long piece of reflective transparisteel. The leather of my training gear groans at the movements. I bite my cheek. That will take some getting used to.

Damn. I look disproportionate as hell with my beskar helmet and absolutely no other armor joining it. That will be another thing I’ll have to get used to.

Not that there will be any mirrors for me to see myself at Kyrbej. The training grounds on the other side of Concordia’s surface are known for their practicality, not any type of luxury. Certainly not anything more than what we already have in our stronghold. If I want to look at myself, I’ll have to bring my own shard of reflective transparisteel.

Given Linessa’s warnings about how the next cycle will go, though, I’m fairly sure I won’t want to look at myself, anyway.

I’m only able to heave one more breath before there’s a rapid knocking at my door. “Rhi! Hurry! You’re barely giving me any time to say goodbye!”

I swallow the sudden knot my twin sister’s words tie in my throat and pick up my rucksack. It’s heavy as hell, but given the fact I’ll be living out of it, I’m surprised it’s not even heavier. I slide my door open and Rowyn’s standing there, her emerald helmet adorned with gold embellishments flashing in my gaze as she lunges forward to wrap her arms tight around me.

The rucksack falls to the floor as I hug her back. For the first time since we were younglings, our paths are diverging. It’s the Way, as Mom has reminded me so many times before, as the Ancestors have called us each to our own unique paths.

“I’ll see you soon.” I say the words to Rowyn with confidence, even if there’s a wide-open chasm of uncertainty in my chest. I’ve been preparing for this for years, ever since I slid this beskar over my head. My hand cups the back of her helmet. “You better have a full suit ready for me when I get back.”

Rowyn manages a short laugh at that. “First of all, I’m not in charge of giving you armor.” She pulls away and holds my own emerald helmet between her hands, though I can see the white accents I added to each curve of the beskar reflected in her visor. “Second of all, I’m gonna need more than a cycle to learn how to make a full fucking suit.”

I laugh with her. Our helmets touch, silence sitting between us, before I step away and hold her hands in mine. “Tell the Armorer to go easy on you." I squeeze her hands. “I know how easily you blister.”

“I could say the very same about you.” Rowyn’s thumb runs over my palm. “But I think I’ll have it easier over here than you will over there.”

I scoff. “Have you met the Armorer?”

Rowyn can’t laugh this time. I don’t need to see her face to identify her concern. After years without seeing a single person’s face, it’s easy to spot emotions in other ways, especially the people I know best. “Just be careful, Rhi.”

“I will.” I give her hands another squeeze. “You’ve seen how well I can kick ass.”

Rowyn’s helmet tilts, her substitution for a smile. “Yeah, that makes me feel better.”

I chuckle and sigh, going in for one last hug. “I’m gonna miss you so fucking much, Row.”

“I’ll miss you too, Rhi.”

“Rhiane,” Mom’s voice calls for me further down the corridor. “It’s time to get going.”

Rowyn and I step away from each other at the same time. I pick up my rucksack and nod at her, taking in the last of my twin sister before I turn and start to walk towards Mom. Rowyn, however, adds one more thing over my shoulder. “And Rhiane!”

I whip my helmet around. Rowyn jogs to get closer to me, lowering her modulated voice so only I can hear.

“Kick Din Djarin’s ass for me.”

I huff at that, as much as the sound of his name alone sets my chest aflame with deeply planted bitterness. “Easy.”

“Rhiane.” Mom’s voice is more stern now. I wince and turn to face her again, her battle-worn emerald suit of armor serving as a warning rather than an inspiration right now. “Let’s go.”

I look at my boots as I follow her out of the part of the stronghold I’ve called home for twenty-two cycles, now. Hopefully, Dad’s waiting outside, or else I won’t have a chance to say goodbye. There’s no way Mom’s going to let me back inside, and I can’t blame her. The last thing I’d want to do is either hold up the whole group of this cycle’s recruits or have to run like hell to catch up to them.

The maze of the stronghold soon gives way to Concordia’s swirling atmosphere, and as I look up, I can see the distant image of Mandalore. The familiar ache of curiosity and nostalgia I have no need for hits at the sight of our people’s homeworld. I wonder if earning my place as a warrior will ever grant me permission to visit our history there. Even Mom and Dad seem to miss it after running a few missions there when I was little.

Speaking of Dad, he stands with the other parents of my fellow recruits, who will see us off as we head to Kyrbej. There are less parents here than there are recruits, even if there aren’t that many of us. I push the unnecessary observation away and focus on the last goodbyes I have to make.

“You’re late, Rhiane,” Dad greets me, his gloved hand tapping the side of his helmet—and no doubt powering down the chrono within his visor.

Mom offers him the answer. “Rowyn.”

Dad nods in understanding. He approaches me and sets a strong hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been waiting a long time for this day, verd’ika.” I smile to myself at the nickname. I’ve had it ever since I tried to force Rowyn into wrestling matches when we were kids. “I know you’ll make us proud.”

“Thank you.” I nod, maintaining my composure and respect in light of the fellow Mandalorians who surround us.

“The Fighting Corps isn’t ready for you.” Mom speaks up next. She presses her hand against the back of my emerald helmet to make it meet her own. “But you are damn sure ready for it.”

My eyes start to sting, my nose prickling and my throat tied up in a spikey knot. Shit. I told myself I wouldn’t get emotional, even if my beskar could hide it—but I hadn’t expected my parents to show me anything more than tough-love in front of others. “Thank you.” I force the words through my tightened throat.

“The cycle will be over before you know it.” Dad steps towards me when Mom gives him room to, his helmet also meeting my own. “You’ll be a full-fledged warrior next time we see you.”

“Just a full-fledged recruit, Dad.” I manage to maintain my usual smartass tone even amidst my emotional struggle. Dad huffs and steps away. I look between my parents and lower my helmet in love and respect. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.” Their comforting voices are a chorus that wrap around me like a sweet embrace as I force myself to turn my back on them. I join the group of recruits and get in formation, falling into the empty space in the two-by-two line that’s been saved for me.

“It’s about time your ass turned up.” The recruit at my side’s tone is full of nothing but amusement as she tilts her purple helmet at me. “I was starting to think you were having second thoughts.”

I shoved my shoulder against hers. “Fuck off, Sahra.” I tilt my helmet back at her. “As if I’d be the one between us to stay behind.”

I could almost feel the hot waves of Sahra’s embarrassment warming my black leathers. “That’s different. Since Thiio’s due for his training next year—.”

“—You’ll be spending two cycles apart, not just one. I know.” I find her hand and give it a squeeze. “But this will be good for you two. You’ve been inseparable ever since they moved his family’s wing closer to yours.”

“And?” Sahra’s curt response is almost a challenge.

“Selfishly, it gives me more alone time with you.” I let her hand go and shrug. “Plus, who knows. Maybe training will bring out something new in someone that you’ll like.” I gesture with my  helmet to the path we’re about to take. “There’s gonna be a lot of extra adrenaline we have to take care of out there.”

“Fair point.” Sahra becomes more amused again as she crosses her arms over her chest. “And who exactly do you think you’ll be choosing for that task?”

I shrug again. “I’ll have to wait and see.” I spot a familiar shine diagonally across from my position, about four rows of recruits ahead. “I do know who I won’t be choosing, though.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” My visor snaps over to Sahra. She dramatically fires my own words back at me. “Maybe training will bring out something new in someone that you’ll like.”

“Fuck no.” I find the silver helmet again, the only one in this entire group that hasn’t been painted, and tighten my jaw. “That doesn’t apply to him.”

“Really, Rhiane?” Sahra is using the tone of voice that makes it hard to tell if she’s being serious or not. “I always thought you two would be a power—.”

I shove my elbow hard enough into her ribs to make her lose her breath for a moment.

“Damn, fine then. Comm received.” Sahra rubs her hand over her ribs. “No more jokes about Djarin.”

The sound of his name causes his silver helmet to turn over his shoulder. I don’t let my visor stray from his, instead challenging him to look away first. My hands curl into fists at my sides and I wish I could swing them in his direction. I’ve already sparred with him enough times to know, though, that I won’t win—but neither will he.

The question now, then, is who’s going to win this staring contest of ours.

“Recruits!” A booming voice announces from the front of the group.

Another draw it is. We look away from each other at the same time, focusing our attention to the black-armored Mandalorian ahead of us. Captain Hosnan has been running the Fighting Corps’ training for cycles, even before more than half our ranks abandoned the Way during the Clone Wars.

“You’ve been training for cycles to see this moment. You’re now mere minutes away from embarking on this journey, a Mandalorian tradition that’s been in place for thousands of years.”

My stomach twists with nerves I’m not used to having. The historical weight of this training isn’t lost on me, especially when I remember who my ancestors are. Settling for anything less than the goal I’ve made for myself in my mind is unacceptable.

“You’ve sworn the Creed. You’ve earned your most valuable piece of armor: your helmets.” 

Each one of our helmets is unique in some way, all adorned with special colors and embellishments—except for Din’s. For some reason, it makes my blood boil even more.

“Now, you will go on to earn each piece of your full suit of armor with each challenge you undertake. It won’t be easy, but the generations before you have proven it can be done. I’m the first captain to have no deaths reported at Kyrbej in three-hundred years, so don’t be my first.”

I swallow hard. No pressure.

“But don’t be mistaken. This isn’t because I’m softer than the other captains.” Captain Hosnan crosses his arms over his cuirass. “It’s because I’m tougher, and that toughness yields results. So, if any one of you feels you’re not up for the challenge, do us all a favor and walk away now while you can. As for the rest of you…”

Captain Hosnan lowers his arms to lift his fist to the center of his cuirass, right over the kar’ta. 

“Welcome to the Fighting Corps.” He lowers his helmet. “This is the Way.”

We all mirror his gesture, crossing our right arms over our chests and lowering our helmets. “This is the Way.”

The family members beside us are the last to say the phrase. “This is the Way.”

Captain Hosnan turns and begins to walk forward, and our group of recruits follows in obedient formation. I pull the straps of my rucksack higher on my shoulders and give Sahra a look. “Are you ready, Private Auren?”

Sahra tilts her helmet at me. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Private Voss.”

▼▲▼

As it turns out, the hardest part of our cycle at Kyrbej is fucking walking there.

After endless hours of non-stop travel across this desolate moon we call home, Captain Hosnan has finally allowed us to make camp. We don’t have the supplies to pitch tents, so we settle for various alcoves in the nearby rock structures that have defined Concordia ever since it was settled—or, at least, mined.

My feet are throbbing and my legs nearly give out when I sit down beside Sahra at our makeshift fire, but at least this walk is breaking in my boots. I chew on the ration pack Rowyn helped me acquire from the kitchen of our wing, sliding the material in the gap between the lip of my helmet and my skin. There’s no chance I’m gonna be able to hunt something out here.

The recruits are scattered throughout the alcove in their small friend groups, the ones made long before Kyrbej was even on the horizon. I’m well aware these groups will be drastically different by the time we all complete our training, and not just because of Linessa’s warning. It’s common sense. The shit we’re about to go through this cycle changes people from the inside-out.

“I’ll be right back,” Sahra speaks up into our comfortable silence. She stands and brushes the dirt of the alcove off her leathers. “I’ll let you know if I find a decent corner of privacy for relieving ourselves.”

I snort with amusement and watch her as she strides away. I’m not on my own for long, though, as another person soon comes to take her place. I don’t bother fighting the snarl underneath my  helmet or the roll of my eyes behind my visor.

“Voss.” Din’s modulated tone is curt as he stands over me.

“Djarin.” I all but bite his name out.

His arms cross over his chest. His broad chest. Shit, does that tiny detail really matter? “You seem tired.”

I scoff. “What a fucking compliment.” I sit up more and tilt my helmet. “Are you not exhausted from walking for at least six hours straight?” When he starts to reply, I hold up my hand. “Wait, let me guess. You’ve somehow been training for this specific part along with everything else.”

Din tilts his helmet back at me. “You’re catching on.”

Frustration pumps through my veins like hot, molten lava. “Well, what the hell do you want? Or did you just come over here to be an asshole?”

Din doesn’t waver at my hurled insults. “You tell me. Your friend was the one who said my name earlier.”

I narrow my eyes at him and hope he can somehow see their wrath behind my visor, even if it breaks the Creed. “Can’t live with the fact your name’s said in conversations you’re not a part of, Djarin?” I let out an amused huff. “Because I hate to tell you, people are allowed to say your name when you’re not around.”

“I would’ve been content to leave you to it.” Din shifts his weight to one hip. “But you were looking at me, so… naturally, I assumed you had something to say.”

“Nope.” I’m suddenly grateful for the Creed again that keeps my warm, embarrassed face from Din’s line of vision. Ancestors, forgive me. “Consider it a mistake.”

Din’s helmet straightens. “Let me give you some advice.” He gestures with his helmet to the view of Concordia outside the alcove. “There’s no room for mistakes at Kyrbej. Even one could move you down the ranks, and fast. My advice, then?” He drops his arms back to his sides, conveying his severity. “Don’t let it happen again.”

My anger becomes so volatile that I’m relieved I don’t have a metal suit of armor covering me. It would just melt into my skin. “So now you’re giving me orders?” I shake my helmet. “Hell no. And you say that as if I don’t already know.” My anger unties a cruel knot within my throat and unleashes its full wrath. “Unlike you, I have a fucking legacy to maintain.”

Din stiffens, but it only lasts for a moment. His hands curl into fists at his sides, but it’s not an unusual action for him. “Good.” He nods at me, having the audacity to remain civil after my harsh bite—and making me feel like the asshole here. “I expect it won’t happen again, then.”

He turns his back before he can see my middle finger extended up at him. I curse under my breath and wrap my arms around myself for more warmth, glancing at the unfinished ration pack on my lap. I’ve lost my appetite, and I could use the rest for breakfast, anyway.

No. I am not letting this man make me eat myself alive because he was the one who approached me in the first place. He’s trying to get to me mentally, since he can’t beat me physically. I won’t let him win.

Sahra returns and sits even closer to my side than she had before. “Damn, what did I miss?” Her visor gives me a once-over. “You’re tenser than a lariat.” She points at my unfinished ration. “And I expected that to be crumbs by now.”

“What do you think happened?” My visor’s glaring in Din’s direction, even though he’s become lost within the fray of recruits. I find his silver helmet amidst a group of other foundling recruits. He’s the biggest of them all.

“You mean, who do I think happened?” Sahra huffs. “It’s not really a question.”

“He was an asshole for coming over here, and then he made me be an asshole back.”

Sahra tilts her helmet at me. “He ‘made’ you?”

I finally turn to face her. “He wanted to know why you said his name earlier, before we left.”

I hate the way I can practically see Sahra’s purple helmet grow brighter, as if the fire suddenly got more powerful. “Yeah? And what did he have to say about my brilliant joke?”

“Your brilliantly fucking stupid joke? Yeah, he doesn’t know about it.” I huff in indignation. “He just threatened me not to make the ‘mistake’ of using his name without telling him about it again.”

Sahra’s shoulders tense at that. “What the hell?”

“Exactly.” I rest even further against the smooth slab of stone supporting me.

“So, how exactly were you an asshole in this context?”

I cringe, squeezing my eyes tight behind my visor in embarrassment. “Don’t judge me.” The only person who knows the Creed better than me is Din himself. The man’s a stickler for the rules and customs of our people. The foundlings are the future.

“Let me guess.” Sahra’s fingers tap over her thigh in unnecessary concentration. I already know she’s going to get it right on the first try. “You made a jab about him being a foundling?”

I palm my helmet with one of my hands. “Why am I such an ass about that sometimes, Sahra?” I shake my head.

“It’s the only leverage you have on him.” Sahra shrugs and pokes at the fire to keep it burning. “He’s not the most open about his life before his rescue, and he’s definitely not the type to tell anyone how he feels about it—or anything else.”

I stare at the fire. “That doesn’t make it right. He just…” I clench my hands into tight fists, “shit, he makes me so damn angry sometimes.”

“It may not be right, but it’s understandable.” Sahra nods at me. “You were predicted to be the top of our cycle from a young fucking age. Then Djarin just comes in, and… well, he’s the only one who can threaten that.”

I exhale deeply and close my eyes, feeling the weight of this day and situation upon me. “I don’t want to think about that day anymore.”

Sahra’s hand gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I understand.” I hear her shuffling around as she leans back next to me. “Get some rest. I have a feeling Hosnan’s gonna have us up and at ‘em as early as possible.”

Sahra’s right. It feels like I’ve been asleep for all of five minutes when the sound of beskar-on-beskar rings throughout the alcove.

The rest of the recruits and I jolt awake, looking to see Captain Hosnan with his gauntlets crossed over each other. “Morning, recruits! You have five minutes to fully put out your fires, pack your rucksacks, and relieve yourselves before we continue on!”

I groan and let my helmet hit the stone behind me for a moment. We’re not even at Kyrbej yet, and I already understand why I’ve trained like hell for this cycle.

But we will be getting to Kyrbej today, and that excitement alone is what gets me moving faster than anything else.

Once we’re all back on our feet and in our two-by-two formation, Captain Hosnan continues on our path to Kyrbej. Sahra’s quick to notice the sudden hop in my step. “What’s got you so excited to walk another six hours straight?”

I shoot her an incredulous look. “Kyrbej.”

“Right.” Sahra’s visor rises to the swirling sky for a moment. “I almost forgot the destination.”

“I’ve only been training my whole life for it.” I smile to myself, experience my first true wave of joy since leaving the stronghold. “Plus, I’ll finally get to see Linessa.”

Sahra’s helmet snaps back towards me. “Oh, shit, that’s right. She was team leader last year.”

“Damn right she was.” I tilt my helmet towards her. “She’s a Vizsla, after all.”

Sahra snorts. “If Paz was my older brother, I’d work my ass off to be team leader, too.” She gives me a knowing look. “But I’m not even gonna try when I know who it’s going to.”

I bite my cheek. “You don’t know that.”

“By the Ancestors, Rhiane, don’t lose your confidence already.” Sahra nudges my arm. “Your jab at Djarin may have been brutal, but it’s true. Even if he could possibly manage to beat you out in skill, when was the last time they made someone who’s not tied to a clan or a house a fucking team leader?”

My jaw remains wired shut. She’s right. The revelation floods relief through me. “Fair point. I’ll give you that.”

I don’t have another option; I have to believe her. Failing to become team leader isn’t an option. I won’t be able to face Dad, Mom, or even Rowyn if I don’t earn the title.

The hours go by surprisingly quickly, either because of the haziness of my exhaustion or because of the verbal games Sahra and I play to keep ourselves entertained. That haze, however, is quickly replaced by shocking clarity as the adrenaline kicks in at the sight on the horizon.

The unmistakable pillars of Kyrbej frame a tight group of Mandalorian warriors, those who will be serving as our officers, leaders, and teachers for the next cycle. I’m already searching for Linessa’s telltale blue helmet, but as much as I love the woman who’s like another sister to me, she’s not the only reason why my heart is racing with excitement.

After cycles and cycles of waiting, I’m finally at Kyrbej. I’m finally facing my long-awaited destiny. Not even my doubts about Djarin or team leader can quell my pure anticipation.

I don’t have to be Force-sensitive to know that I—and Kyrbej itself—won’t ever be the same after this moment.

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series masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

[darlin-djarin]

good time to bring this back because look what din djarin did

space lesbians.

i’d like to take a moment to appreciate din djarin and all that he has done for the wlw community

[pagesfromthevoid]

I have this idea for a Din Djarin x reader fanfic!

Din returns to the crest after a long day bounty hunting and finds you singing a lullaby to Grogu so he can sleep peacefully. He is speechless from the beautiful sight in front of him because he realises how much you mean to him and after a while he actually remembers that this mom sang this specific song to him when he was little. So when the kid sleeps you find him at the door sobbing under his helmet.

[You can continue the story however you want!(angst,fluff, or even smut but in a more passionate, comforting way, not rough) Thank you for your time!☺️]

This is so fucking precious and I am going to write the SHIT OUT OF THIS

Lost Lullabies | d.d.

Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: None

Requests are OPEN

The suns had long set over the barren landscape of Tattooine casting a cool darkness across the desert. Din, clad in his Mandalorian armor, trudged wearily up the path that led to the Crest. The day had been long and arduous, filled with danger and bounties to collect. He craved the solace and comfort of his sanctuary, where the chaos of the galaxy couldn't touch him.

As Din approached the entrance, he caught a soft, melodic sound carried on the wind. Intrigued, he quickened his pace, curiosity overtaking his fatigue. Pushing open the door, he froze, his eyes widening at the scene before him.

There, in the dim light of the room, you sat on the floor with Grogu cradled in your arms. Your voice, a soothing whisper, filled the air as you sang a gentle lullaby. The child's eyelids drooped, his small form nestled securely against your chest.

Din was mesmerized, his heart swelling with a warmth he had seldom experienced. He had seen countless wonders and faced unimaginable dangers in his travels, but none could compare to the tender sight of you cradling the Child, singing him to sleep. It was a snapshot of serenity in the midst of a chaotic galaxy.

Lost in the moment, Din's eyes began to well up with tears. He struggled to comprehend the overwhelming emotions that washed over him. It wasn't just the beauty of the scene that moved him; it was the realization of how deeply he cared for you. You had become an anchor in his tumultuous life, a beacon of light guiding him through the darkest of times.

As the lullaby came to an end and Grogu succumbed to slumber, you carefully laid him down in his pram, tucking him in with care. Oblivious to Din's presence, you quietly stepped away, leaving the room to give the child his rest.

In a daze, Din found himself standing at the door, his helmet suddenly feeling heavy on his shoulders. Silent sobs racked his body as tears streamed down his cheeks, the sound of his anguish drowned out by the deafening silence. Memories long forgotten surged to the forefront of his mind, like whispers from a distant past.

The lullaby you had sung --it wasn't just any song. It was the same melody his own mother had once sung to him. It had been buried deep within his subconscious, obscured by years of pain and loss. Flashes of red, of wary but loving eyes...he could see them, just barely. His mother, who had not thought of in many years. But now, as the tune danced through the air, it awakened dormant memories, piercing through the armor that shielded his heart.

You turned, your eyes widening with surprise as you saw Din standing there, vulnerable and exposed. Without a word, you hurried to his side, your own eyes brimming with concern. Gently, you reached out and wrapped your arms around his middle. Even if the cold beskar of his armor was hard against your temple, you couldn't help but press your cheek into his chest to hold him as he cried.

Din's shoulders shook with each sob, his stoic façade crumbling under the weight of his emotions. He had spent so much of his life behind that helmet, keeping others at arm's length. But you, with your kindness and unconditional care, had broken through his defenses, leaving him raw and exposed.

In that moment, Din realized that he didn't have to bear the weight of his burdens alone. He had found someone who understood him, someone who cared for him as deeply as he cared for them. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to feel the warmth of another's love.

As you held him, the echoes of the lullaby still hung in the air, Din wrapped his arms around your shoulders to hold you close to him. Together, you stood there, two souls intertwined, finding solace and strength in each other's embrace. The tears eventually subsided, replaced by a sense of peace and clarity. Din slowly lifted his head, his gaze meeting yours, and he rested his forehead against yours.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Thank you for being here, for caring for Grogu, and for reminding me of something I had long forgotten."

You smiled gently, your touch lingering just below the edge of his helmet --so close to the skin that was exposed there. "You don't have to thank me, Din. I want to be here. With Grogu. With you. We're...well, we're a family."

Family. The word resonated deep within Din's heart, bringing with it a newfound sense of belonging. He had spent so much of his life as a lone warrior, drifting through the galaxy without any true connections. Even with the covert, he never truly felt like it was a family. But he found his place. With his clan; his family.

With a determined resolve, Din took a deep breath and lifted your hands to the edge of the helmet. You watched him carefully, allowing him to guide your movements, as he removed his helmet, revealing his face to you for the first time. It was a vulnerable act, an act of trust and vulnerability he had never before bestowed upon anyone. In that moment, he laid bare his soul, showing you the scars and stories etched upon his features.

"I love you," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I love you, cyare. You...you and the child, you've been my family for a long time."

You smiled up at him, tears spilling over your cheeks as you took in every detail of his face for the first time. Beautiful, deep brown eyes that stole your breath away. Unruly curls that begged for your fingers to run through them, with scruff that outlined his cheeks and lips perfectly. Din Djarin was beautiful, and you had to touch him.

As your fingers traced over Din's jaw, a surge of longing coursed through your veins, igniting a fire within you. The unspoken tension between you both had lingered for far too long, and now, in this vulnerable moment, you couldn't hold back any longer. The weight of unspoken words and hidden desires dissolved as you leaned in, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as the world around you faded away, leaving only the intoxicating taste of each other's lips. In that electrifying embrace, you felt a connection deeper than words could convey—a fusion of souls that transcended the boundaries of the physical world. It was a culmination of unspoken emotions, longing, and the shared experiences that had bound you together on this extraordinary journey.

Din's arms instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the intensity of the moment intensified. The kiss spoke volumes—of unspoken promises, of a love that had blossomed silently but fervently within your hearts. It was a testament to the unbreakable bond you had formed, forged through battles fought side by side and the unwavering trust you had in one another.

When you finally broke the kiss, a breathless silence hung in the air, the weight of the moment settling upon you both. Din's eyes searched yours, a mix of vulnerability, surprise, and a newfound sense of possibility gleaming within them. It was a silent confirmation, an acknowledgment that what had transpired between you was no mere fleeting attraction, but a profound connection that had been waiting to be acknowledged.

"I've wanted that for so long," you admitted, voice soft and airy. "I love you, Din. I have since you saved me from those pirates and asked me to join you. And I am...so happy you did."

He smiled then --and you could have sworn your heart had burst in your chest as he pulled you in with his hands on your jaw. His nose grazed your cheek, his lips brushing over your cheek and up to your temple before he pressed a kiss to the top of your hair. Your arms snaked back around his middle, pressing yourself closer to him as you closed your eyes.

And in that moment, you knew that this kiss was merely the beginning --a beginning of a love story that would be written in the stars, transcending the boundaries of time and space.

[suiine]

paz: whoa bro you ok?

din, shaking and crying: paz can you give me the number to your therapist, I've experienced a trauma

paz: bro what happened bro

din: I caught our mother and bo katan...together

paz: you caught our mom the armorer...having sex?!

din: yeah she was completely naked

paz: you mean you saw our mom's - *pukes*

din, puking, calling the mando-therapist: yeah I saw her un-helmeted face

[trans-skywalkers]

Bo-Katan dates the Armorer because she’s a lesbian but she also is absolutely the type to bust down the covert door like HEY DIN I FUCKED YOUR MOM

[cameoamalthea]

So about Sabine Wren

When we see her in the Ashoka Teaser:

(Brilliant casting, wonderful hair, and costume design)

She isn't wearing armor.

And sure, she's not in combat, the war is over, but Sabine isn't a soldier, she's a Mandalorian.

Mandalorians are a people, children of Mandalor. That's why Bo-Katan calls Din 'brother' when she first meets him and refers to the rest of the Mandlorians as her brethren. (This is a basic translation of 'vod' meaning brother, sister or comrade in the way you might call a friend bro or sis.)

Mandalorian is a religious and cultural identity. The Resol'nare is the six core actions that are the heart of her culture/religion:

Wearing armor.

Speaking the language.

Defending yourself and your family.

Raising your children as Mandalorians.

Contributing to the clan's welfare.

When called upon by the Mand'alor, rallying to their cause.

Wearing armor is number 1. Some factions interpret number 1 as never remove your helmet in front of others.

Most interpret it as wearing armor and removing your helmet where practical.

(look, it's Sabine's mom)

Even Mandalorians who are not practicing, but are Mandalorian by Leniage will still wear armor. Not just because Beskar Armor is amazing, but because armor connects the wearer to their family who passed it down to them.

"The armor I wear is 500 years old. I reforged it to my liking, but the battles, the history, the blood, all lives within it, and the same goes for every Mandalorian. This armor is part of our identity. It makes us Mandalorians who we are." - Sabine

For those born Mandalorian, their armor is a priceless heirloom. Foundlings who are not adopted into a family that can pass down armor are gifted extra pieces of armor by the entire community. Every scrap is sacred and goes to someone, it either connects you to your family, history, and blood or to everyone's family, history, and blood as part of the greater family of Mandalorians.

We've seen Sabine without her armor before, when going undercover she's worn imperial uniforms, but it is strange to see her forgoing beskar by choice.

I love how the design uses patches where she had emblems on her armor (I did that for my Disney Bound of her). It's very thoughtful costuming. So what is the meaning behind having her wear a leather jacket (Ezra's Jacket?) and forgo armor.

Has she exiled herself for not being there during the purge?

Sabine was estranged from her birth family during Rebels, but her birth family and people remained a core part of her identity and motivation.

In this scene, her adoptive Jedi father teaches her to wield the Dark Saber and to connect to her emotional truth.

"The truth... is that... I left to save everyone. My mother, my father, my brother! Everything I did was for family, for Mandalore!"

Joining the rebellion was for Mandalor and to atone for the harm she had done to her people while at the Imperial Academy (her system was imperially controlled, it was expected that she join, and she was a prodigy who joined young)

"I built weapons, terrible weapons, but the Empire used them on Mandalore, on friends, on family. People that I knew. They controlled us through fear. ( Scoffs ) Mandalore! Fear of weapons I helped create. I helped enslave my people! I wanted to stop it. I had to stop it. I spoke out! I spoke out to save them. To save everyone!"

In Rebels Sabine clearly identifies as a Mandalorian and that's an important part of her identity.

You can't tell she's a Mandalorian in the top photo, perhaps because she no longer believes she deserves to be one.

As shown above, her family and people are the most important thing to her. She left her found family to reunite with her birth family and found a rebellion on Mandalore which she led. However, after fighting alongside Bo-Katan Sabine felt that Bo-Katan should be leader.

(And so did everybody else, Bo-Katan was heir by blood but she was for all intents and purposes elected leader by popular consent)

Sabine then left to return to the Rebel Alliance and fight alongside her found a family in their rebel squadron and remained with them to safeguard Lothal.

Sabine left the Mandalorian Rebellion. She was not there when the rebellion failed. When the Empire set out to destroy her planet and kill everyone on it. She is a survivor of genocide and was not with her people fighting when it happened. Worse, the genocide was a response to a rebellion she started but was not there to see through.

It's not her fault. It's not any Mandalorian's fault.

But how must she feel?

Now recall the Resol'nare: half of the six core actions are about family, clan, and people.

Defending yourself and your family.

Contributing to the clan's welfare.

When called upon by the Mand'alor, rallying to their cause.

Sabine was not there to defend her family or contribute to her clan's welfare. She was not with Bo-Katan, the Mand'alor, she put in power, to help.

Perhaps Sabine no longer wears her armor because she no longer feels worthy of being a Mandalorian.

When Ahsoka sees her on Lothal Ahsoka is in gray robes like she wore in the Mandalorian.

In the Rebels epilogue Ahsoka is in white.

Sabine also looks different in this scene:

Sabine could not have grown her hair to the length in the Ahsoka trailer if that scene took place after the Rebels epilogue. However, she could easily crop her hair short between the trailer scene and the epilogue.

She's also wearing her armor again. Maybe when we first meet Sabine in Ahsoka we will see her in a darker place. She's given up on being a Mandalorian. She's grown her hair out in mourning. Maybe Ahsoka gives her hope, so she puts on her armor again and cuts her hair short, symbolically shedding the weight of grief and guilt.