#and also not their buir

[evilminji]

Okay, I've Had Some THOUGHTS on this.

There? Is NO SUCH THING? As a True Clone.

There really, really isn't. Forget Boba. EVERY SINGLE CLONE TROOPER? Unique! It's impossible NOT to be!

Because what is a man?

The sum total of his thoughts and choices. Memories, feelings, and experiences!

Jango "demagolka" Fett DID NOT have that many brothers. Did not live an accelerated youth, stuck in hell, as a child soilder. There were no decommissionings haunting HIS nightmares. No fear of nonconformity.

But! I ask you!

Is the copy of an apple? An apple?

Yeah. It SURE FUCKING IS. Doesn't matter that it didn't come from the tree directly! If the ORIGINAL is a valid life form? Then any COPY of it? Equally valid. And if they're NOT? Then that means their creators DELIBERATELY brain damaged infants..

You can't argue the Clone trooper are NOT equal to Jango Fett with out the question: "Then does that mean you are sending deliberately mentally handicapped copies to go die in a war for you?"

And!!! That's ALL IRRELEVANT BESIDE! Because you know WHAT??

A COPY of Jango Fett? Is NOT his kid. Biologically? That's his FUCKING BROTHER.

He can choose to adopt Boba or not. He's Mandalorian, for all he's turned his back on everything they stood for. For all that ALL his parents would be ashamed. He CAN do that. But you know what he CAN'T do?

Disown the Vode.

Your BROTHER doesn't get SHIT say in if your DEAD PARENTS would have accepted and loved you. Prime can go KARK himself. Every? Single? Clone Trooper?

Has the SAME PARENTS. And THEY died on their farm, helping the Manda'lor. Who then adopted their son. The FETTS? Who have marched on ahead? Of CLAN FETT?

Yeah, THEY are the Clone Trooper's Biological Parents.

It literally doesn't matter that they've been dead for decades. Their blood runs in millions of veins. Their parent's blood. Their parent's parent's. Those Clones are Clan Fett unless they renounce it. Mandalorian culture is pretty damn clear. You can get rid of a bad parent, but you can not abandon your kid.

That is an army of fuckin FARMERS. Proud legacy of Mandalorian FARMING.

Someone should dop them their extended bloodline and heritage. Because their BROTHER? Doesn't get a fucking say. He got adopted by Mereel. Good for him. There aren't asking for THAT name. To be part of THAT clan. They have no right to it.

But Clan Fett?

Is millions strong.

@legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @hypewinter

[moriaarts]

Mando dads!au

or I’m convinced Cody would have been such a good dad and Cal would have been an amazing big brother that would have healed with Obi-wan in his life and then eventually called Cody buir by accident bc the twins do

[chyarui]

Commander Wolffe, no introduction needed.

I had so much fun with his tattoos, if you couldn’t tell. After Fox’s depressing ones and Cody’s cute but simple one, I needed to go all out with Wolfy boy’s tat. Honestly, this man deserves a cool tattoo after having to deal with the torture of interacting with C-3PO. I could FEEL his annoyance through the screen (that sassy fucking eyeroll I swear you could feel it though his helmet)

[rooksunday]

au where plo koon talks with wolffe, sinker, and boost about their siblings, and—having contacts among jedi and therefore able to message the other clones—sends along little ‘welcome to the clan ho ho ho here’s my comm in case you need it xoxo ba’vodu plo (i hope i’m not being too presumptuous!! B) )’ packages

later in the war, when fox is out of commission in medbay for the eighth time, thorn is scrambling through fox’s yards of datapads, mouldy ration bar wrappers, and odd socks— and he finds a message tucked inside a piece of flimsiplast folded into a tooka shape

and thorn is like. kark it. they’re already slated for decommissioning. this might as well happen.

anyway that’s how plo koon lightnings the chancellor, adopts the entire coruscant guard, and racks up a record bounty for abduction of military assets and property destruction (that no one ever bothers trying to track because the being has a personal army have you seen this shit?)

[padawansuggest]

Jaster: Your birthday is coming up, what do you want?

Jango: Buir. I’m twenty now.

Jaster: That doesn’t mean-

Jango: I want socks, three new kutes, and for someone to pay off my speeder insurance for the month.

Jaster: …well, it fits the age range, I guess :/

[varpusvaras]

I don’t really have a set preference on who’s the oldest and youngest in the CC-batch in fics, but I do have my own order

Ponds: Oldest. Absolutely doesn’t want to be oldest because that means he has to be more responsible than everyone else. Please don’t put that on him. Please.

Wolffe: Second oldest. The one who ended up with the oldest daughter-syndrome. Takes his younger siblings to school and picks them up from there while playing either metal or Barbie Girl on full blast. Extremely adoptable. Plo Koon had those papers READY from the moment they met for the first time.

Cody: Third oldest. Counts himself to be one of the older siblings despite being the middle child. Appears very responsible and usually is, but then he starts doing weird shit out of nowhere. Gets together with an older man who looks like an English professor who part-times as a yoga teacher. Cody thinks that’s the hottest shit ever. He gets made fun of aggressively.

Bly: Second youngest. People think he’s the youngest sometimes, and he is offended every single time. Thinks he can get away from being made fun of from falling in love with his Jedi because at least his Jedi is young and cool. He does not. He has not been called by his actual name by his brothers in years now. One of them got into his discord account and changed his username to Simp-5052. Bly hasn’t been able to change it back. He has tried.

Fox: The youngest. The Baby. Tries to escape the Baby Jail every waking moment of his life. Thought he succeeded when Rex got adopted into the batch. He got set straight very quickly about his life-sentence still continuing. Thought he succeeded the second time when he became the Commander of the Guard. Then Plo Koon heard about him and showed up with more adoption papers and all of his vod’ike are now coddling him. Thought he succeeded the third time when he got married. All of his brothers wanted to give a speech at his wedding. The whole Galaxy now knows that he’s the baby. He wants to maim something.

Rex: The younger cousing who got adopted into the family. The youngest but not. Absolutely plays the little brother card when he needs it, but then the next moment says that he has never met these people in his entire life. The only truly responsible one of them all and he knows it.

[gertrudethegardenia]

reblog is you're part of the ✨learning a whole ass fictional language through fanfiction ✨ gang

[tiredofsatansbullshit]

boba, waking up suddenly and pointing his blaster at the figure in front of him: what

din, standing over boba in the dark: darksabers haunted

boba, still half asleep: what?

din, stalking away: darksabers haunted

[htonl-writes]

Grogu gushes about his dad. Din gets groceries.

[anony-mouse-writer]

kinda boredly looking at some mando’a and i think this is one of the more interesting words actually

shabuir: extreme insult similarly used as jerk/bastard/motherfucker

sha-: doesnt seem to be a formal prefix, but it seems a lot of the words beginning with sha- have to do with a) stopping something or b) a fuckup

buir: parent

and i find it interesting and fitting that in a culture that by most accounts is more meritocratic than our own, one of their strongest insults has to do with ones parenting abilities than ones parentage itself

[the-starry-seas]

actually i think my favourite part of flh au paz is that he looks at his five-foot-nothing twig of an adopted kid, looks at some heavily armed stranger, and is like "i'm gonna let him fight you. for his enrichment."

[workingchemistry]

“You have an mando’ad and you haven’t even sworn the resol’nare or riduurok?” Fox asks, crouched in front of the child. “I thought prime raised you to be better than the rest of us.”

“Buir—“ Boba starts and then breaks off with an annoyed growl. “Fuck you. He’s not even my kid.”

“Mind your language in front of your tubie.” Fox mock gasps as he swings the child up onto his hip. There’s a wide look to his eyes, plush lips split into the manic grin that Boba remembers as always preceding whatever chaos Tenten had managed to orchestrate.

It’s as infuriating now as it was back then but now, with the weight of years behind him, Boba’s chest aches with nostalgia and grief.

There’s something to the set of Fox’s chin that indicates this chaos is for Boba’s sake. As aggravating and impossible as Fox always was, he also always knew his brothers better than they knew themselves—Especially brothers who would never claim him in return. Boba isn’t a child anymore and he isn’t blinded by his grief. He can recognize Fox’s shitstirring for the kindness it is.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to strangle the life out of his little brother when Ten’ika holds the child above his head in a display to the Corrie guard. “Behold! Boba’s tubie!”

The entire battalion salutes as one before chanting, “Oya, b’Bob’ika tubie!”

“They stole my kid.” Din finally protests but it’s far too late.

Boba shrugs one shoulder with a grimace in Din’s direction over his shoulder. “He’s a CC. They do that.”

Another cheer goes up around them and Boba turns back just in time to see Hound with the child balanced on one shoulder. This would be fine, if he wasn’t joining in on the dha werda verda.

Behind Boba, Din breathes out a vocoder crackle of despair.

[kotemf]

If soldier, why so buir shaped?

  Fox was never particularly fond of cadets.

  During their training on Kamino, they were sometimes assigned to watch younger troopers and train with them. Fox hated those training sessions. Cadets were... they were tiny. Fragile. Fox always spend the session in fear of breaking their little bones. The cadets for their part were usually afraid of Fox. Fox didn't really know why. It certainly wasn't his face, the cadets liked the rest of his batchmates just fine and they loved Cody and Wolffe.

  Nat-born children tended to fear the clones, even if the Coruscant guard was there to help them, to protect them. They all learned not to take it personally, the armor probably did look rather intimidating to normal people and there were also loads of anti-war propaganda that usually antagonized clones because they were the ones who were fighting, it didn't matter to them that they only fought because they had to.

  So yes, Fox was quite surprised when a random Zabrak child ran up to him, hugged him and refused to let go. He looked around. There were no anxious parents looking for a lost kid.

  "Hey, what are you doing here all alone?" Fox tried his best to not look like a big, scary clone commander. He could tell his efforts weren't successful. In his defense, appear non-threatening in a full set of armor and a blaster strapped to your thigh was a pretty difficult task. The child didn't look scared of him, though. Quite the opposite.

  They didn't answer.

  "What's your name?" Fox tried instead. He wasn't good at guessing people's age but this child was at least five standard years old. Five years old nat-borns were old enough to know their name, right?

  The child muttered something Fox didn't quite catch.

  "Can you say it louder?"

  "I don't have a name."

  "You don't?" Now that was a situation Fox wasn't prepared for. As far as he knew, nat-borns were supposed to have names. According to everything he's ever read about nat-borns, parents usually named their child whie they were still a baby. They weren't like clones, who had to wait for when their batchmates picked them a name, usually based on something they did or something they liked.

  The little Zabrak nodded. After taking a closer look, Fox guessed they were most likely male but he wasn't certain.

  "Where are your parents?"

  "I don't know."

  "Alright. I will take you to my office now and we will find them."

  "No! I'm not supposed to find them."

  "What do you mean?" Nat-born children were supposed to love their parents, or at least Fox has always thought that. Because why wouldn't they? Nat-born parents weren't like the Kaminoans, emotionless and only caring about perfection. They weren't like the trainers, only trying to get the best results out of their trainees no matter what it cost. They weren't a genetic template who only wanted one son and money and didn't care about anyone else. No, parents were an entirely different thing. They loved their children, they protected their children and they provided for them. So why exactly wouldn't this nameless kid be supposed to find their parents?

  The child shrugged. "They left me here and told me not to follow them."

  Alright, that was weird. It almost sounded as if these parents wanted to get rid of their kid so they just left him alone on a random place on Coruscant? "Do you like your parents?"

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  "They are mean."

  So apparently parents could be mean. Fox supposed he was going to have to work with that. "And why did you come to me?"

  "Because you feel kind."

  "What?"

  "You feel kind," the kid repeated themselves. Fox had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

  "Okay. Now we will go to my office and get you something to eat, what do you say?" Fox hoped he was doing this right. He had no idea how to talk to children.

  "Okay."

  Bringing a child into the Coruscant Guard's headquarters was a big deal, apparently. Fox didn't do anything more than sit the kid in his office and give him a glass of water and some of the priced treats Fox sometimes got from the nicer senators that he liked to give shinies and his comrades in particularly bad situations. The only other food available were ration bars and that was no food for a child.

  Not that the kid was in need. Ever since Fox brought him in, troopers have been coming into his office, bringing the child treats that Fox didn't really know where they got from, makeshift toys or just to take a look.

  "Aww, he's so tiny!" Thire cooed upon seeing the kid.

  "Told you he's a cute little thing."

  "Shut up, Thorn. It's not my fault I had senate duty and couldn't come to look at him sooner."

  Fox made a show of covering the kids ears. 'Shut up' wasn't by far the worst thing that the troopers said and Fox usually didn't mind but there was a child in the room!

  "I never would have guessed that marshal commander I have a stick up my ass Fox would become such a buir." Thorn grinned at him. He seriously had to stop swearing around the child or else. And Fox shouls also probably get rightfully offended to save his reputation of having, as Thorn put it, a stick up his ass.

  "So that's how you address your commanding officers?"

  "Apparently."

  "You know, senator Clovis requested a bodyguard to accompany him to a meeting with banking clan..."

  "No. Not Clovis. Please. I beg you." Thorn seemed terrified. Any trooper would. Senator Clovis was always rather awful to clones and he was so suspicious the Corries had a betting pool on when he openly defected to the Seppies. 

  "Maybe if you will kindly stop swearing in front of a child, I might consider looking further, even if you certainly have all the required skills."

  "Yeah, sure. Anything. Just not Clovis."

  Fox decided to take that as a promise. The kid didn't seem to get what was going on but he wasn't complaining. A darling really.

  It was a few hours later that the boy started to get bored. Fox tried entertaining him with a holo movie but that didn't work, the child felt the need to share what was going on the screen every minute or so. So Fox downloaded him a video game. That seemed to work. Until now.

  "Do you really have to work?"

  "Yes."

  "Why do you have to work so much?"

  "Because I have things that need to be done and I have a certain amount of time for each of them. Like this form that I'm filling right now, this one needs to be done today," Fox did his best to explain. In his humble opinion, he was getting pretty good at answering the kid's curious questions.

  "Oh... Okay. And will you play with me when you're done?"

  "I will have some more work then but we can play when I'm done, okay?"

  "Okay."

  The kid was clearly trying to be quiet. He wasn't very good at it. He was either kicking into Fox's desk, opening random drawers and then always sighing in disappointment when there was nothing but stacks of paper work, or quietly humming to himself. It was distracting but Fox let it slide. He remembered how difficult it was for him and his batchmates to stay silent when they were cadets. The only thing keeping them quiet was their fear of the Kaminoans and the trainers and he didn't want this sweet little thing to ever experience something like that.

  "Fox?"

  "Yes, kiddo?"

  "Will you get angry if I make things float?"

  "What?"

  "If I make things float," the boy repeated himself.

  Fox wondered for a bit if floating had any other meaning than, well, floating. He didn't think of anything so he just assumed it was some kind of a game. "Of course I won't get angry."

  The child beamed at him. Then the boy reached out with his hand and made the data pad Fox borrowed him float.

  And that's how the Coruscant Guard got their Jedi.

[tarre-was-right]

ROUND ONE: MATCH-UP FOUR

Remember, this is NOT about who would win in a fight. This is about who makes the best leader for Mandalore as a whole.

Explanation post

Seeding

Propaganda below the cut! You can submit more on this post and I will reblog it back to here!

BOBA FETT

Anon: Boba The Builder, can he do it? Boba The Builder, yes he can!

@spacetime1969: He grew up in the political game that is the criminal underworld and managed to out manuver all the other groups on Tatooine to take control of the planet. That's not something you can pull off without political and tactical skill.

Anon: Boba Fett Propaganda: - Boba Fett was explicitly raised by his father, past Mand'alor Jango Fett, to be the legacy of his own adopted buir, Mand'alor Jaster Mereel; while this training did seem to focus more on the bounty hunting and mercenary aspects of their work, it presumably included many lessons about working with people and negotiating, both of which would come in very handy - Boba is commonly held to be a classic example of a child who grew up in a cultural diaspora, feeling largely disconnected from his Mandalorian roots; given the climate on Mandalore after the Galactic Empire glassed it during the Rebellion Era, his experience is likely representative of many of the surviving Mandalorians, who likely also grew up away from their traditional homeworlds in the sector, possibly even in hiding as in the case of Din Djarin's Covert - speaking of Din Djarin, the strong respect between him and Fett would likely put Fett in good standing with those traditionalists, who would similarly respect Fett's connection to their people as the son of a Foundling, even if he wasn't raised the same way as them - in Legends, Fett's connection with Goran Beviin and his family really brought him more fully back into Mandalorian culture, and in a way that makes a good story to sell to reporters (and readers, breaking the fourth wall a bit there, lol) - finally, Boba DID become Mand'alor in Legends continuity, and one that seemingly enjoyed popular support!

Anon: You know what? Boba Fett was given a bad hand in life. He’s done some bad things. But you know what he’s shown? Drive. Commitment. Determination. Resilience. Willpower. And a shocking refusal to die when he’s gone up against bitches badder than himself. Thats more than some Mandalorian leaders can say for themselves. He keeps going. And it’d be funny. Here IS how Jaster can still win. - Also I think that he would be pretty chill. Cody prolly couldnt be. We’ve seen him rule a city, maybe questionably.. but he was hot doing it. Fennec would probably help him and she’s hot too. Din would prolly be good with it. Cody’s last experience ruling was being involved in the empire and witnessing a horrible execution after negotiating a surrender. He prolly wants nothing to do with it now. And good for him! Let!! Cody!!! Retire!!! This isn’t a popularity contest.

Anon: Boba Fett Propaganda: Boba Fett literally was the Mand’alor in legends, and he did a pretty fine job

COMMANDER CODY

Anon: Propaganda for Commander Cody: - Cody was a student of Alpha-17, who in turn had been personally trained by former Mand'alor Jango Fett, giving him a strong training lineage claim to the title - Cody's service as Marshall Commander in the GAR gave him a lot of the diplomatic, organizational, and military experience needed to govern a planet like Mandalore

@spacetime1969: This man has led more people at once than anyone on this list.

Anon: Cody should be Mand'alor because it would be unspeakably sexy

@cha0s-cat: Cody has experience with negotiating from accompanying Obi-Wan, he leads a massive amount of his brothers already. Can recognize when there is a need for negotiations vs a need for violence. This would balance out the majority of the two factions (pacifists/traditionalists) excluding the extremists on either end. And with the amount of chaos that he has to deal with when it comes to Obi-Wan and Anakin, this would probably be relaxing.

@skykind: - Has resisted facism and its attendant police/military state at great personal risk (Bad Batch 2.3), which is apparently necessary to successfully govern Mandalore so long as Death Watch is fully armed and also backed by someone more cunning than their usual leadership (Clone Wars 5.15). - Possesses exceptional leadership and organizational ability from his time as one of the highest-ranked Clone officers of the GAR. The Clone Wars and Bad Batch narratives furthermore present him as Obi-Wan’s peer, so he should be interpreted as equally skilled, wise, kind, and unhinged-in-battle as Obi-Wan. Jury’s out on the sarcasm. - Turns to diplomacy before fighting (Bad Batch 2.3). - Has caught a Jedi’s lightsaber mid-battle at least two times (Clone Wars 1.20 and Revenge of the Sith). This is a very useful skill to have as the prospective or current leader of people who keep chucking the darksaber about. - Has returned a lightsaber to a Jedi at least two times. This is a crucial skill to have as the prospective or current leader of people who should stop selecting said leader via darksaber acquisition.

[joelsbloodyhands]

MANDALORIAN IMAGINE

Din gets jealous when you cuddle an ewok

WARNINGS: None just Din being a jealous tin-man 😌 however if you don’t like cuddling, this is not the fic for you.

A/N: Let’s be honest, how can you not want to cuddle an Ewok? Also, there’s no way in hell Din would ACTUALLY just let you pull him up to a treehouse. That man would have you thrown over his shoulder so quick- (I need to stop before I re-write this fic) 😫 also I should mention Din probably knows what ewoks are but for the sake of this fic and my sanity, let’s all pretend he has no clue (since it wouldn’t be a surprise anyway considering how he barely understands what a Jedi is) 🤭

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader is in an established romantic relationship with Din. Reader has parent relationship with Grogu (no gendered title used). Reader does not have a visible disability.

“I can’t fathom why you’re terrified of Porgs and not of Ewoks,” Din sighs as you laugh excitedly at the fluffy creatures bringing you random stormtrooper helmets that look like they’ve seen better days. “That was one time!” You huff, eyebrows narrowing at him as you stick a tongue out towards him. He chuckles as he watches you murmur thank you’s to the waddling balls of fur. “Yet it seems to happen every time we encounter them,” he mumbles amusingly causing you to shush him.

You had landed on Endor, finding refuge in the lush forests, surprisingly cool on this sunny planet. It hadn’t meant to happen. Encountering pirates on the way to Batuu, the ship was damaged and thus you landed safely onto the green planet unscathed. It had meant to be a quick stop until you had alerted Din to the sighting of something “small, round and fluffy” lurking around the ramp.

Din had been quick to try to deter you, his hand on his blaster as you approached the small bundle of fur, raising a sharp spear your way until you offered it the same blue cookies Din often tried to persuade you not to buy Grogu every time you went to a market. Though much to his surprise, the small creature with large eyes, snatched the snack and gobbled it right up quite happily mumbling some unintelligible language Din couldn’t make sense of and nor could you for that matter, still taking its offering hand and letting it pull you into the forest with Din at your heels and a laughing Grogu in his satchel.

Din had protested the short journey to a cluster of high tree houses, spiralling up into the great trees. The little creature had beckoned you up a wooden set of stairs. Din had taken your wrist, looking up at you from the bottom of the steps and could you see his face, you knew he’d be pouting unhappily.

“Please, mesh’la. Come back to the ship. We don’t know these creatures.”

You had understood his concern of course but part of you yearned for a detour. An adventure. You had both been travelling to and from planets, often with Din disappearing for days on end to collect bounties for credits while you babied Grogu and took care of the ship in his absence. Part of you felt too cooped up in the ship, almost selfishly thanking the maker for causing it to go to disarray and landing you somewhere new.

The small creature babbled up to you as Din’s fingers travelled to yours, intertwining your fingers and gently tugging. You looked back to him, “it’s getting dark, Din. We should spent the night at least.”

He sighed as he watched you turn back and with great difficulty tried to communicate to this brown fluff ball if they could give you some place to rest. Din meanwhile looked down at your son, his big eyes blinking up at his buir with intrigue towards his parents new friend. Din shrugged at him in response as the small boys eyes found the back of your head again cooeing.

The bug-eyed creature had brought the both of you to an empty treehouse, one a lot smaller than the others surrounding the area above. It chattered away in a language neither of you understood but it seemed to quickly learn that it was better to show you with gestures than with words. You had thanked the critter by giving it the rest of the cookies from your bag and offered up a parcel of bantha meat to cook that Din had realised you must have snatched from the pantry on the way off the ship. He smiles underneath his helmet, you were always prepared to take care of everyone.

That’s what he loved most about you.

“What do you think, Din?” You had asked, breaking through his thoughts as he lifted his head to watch you take off your jacket. The small creature had taken the parcel quite happily, waddling excitedly with it out of the house.

“Just one night, cya’rika,” he gently asserted, watching you pout but nod understandably.

“Okay but you have to admit this is pretty neat,” you open your arms twirling on one spot, your eyes looking up towards the top of the house.

A staircase ran around the outside walls, circling to what appeared to be an open topped roof with a balcony. A small table sat in the centre of the room, carved intricately out of wood with what appeared to be a couple of woven moss pillows on either side. Some woven sleeping mats and fur blankets folded neatly in the corner. A fire lantern hung from the staircase and the glow of a fire from outside the hut cast light through the doorway.

Din had to hand it to the creatures, they were rather skilled considering how dopey they looked.

He turned his attention back to you, watching you now pull out two mats and lay them side by side before folding up blankets and placing them down as pillows, setting up your sleeping space. Grogu babbled up at Din who mindlessly lifted his son out of his satchel, watching him scurry off to you, a small hand taking hold of your sleeve as he watched you get everything prepared.

Din wandered off towards the table, removing his weaponry and gear. As he removed some of his armor; opting to keep his chest piece on (just in case), you stood contentedly brushing off your thighs as you overlooked your sleeping arrangements with the small child now gripping your trouser cuff, big brown eyes following your movements. “There,” you clasped your hands together, looking at your son with delight who cooed almost understandably at your cheeriness. “Are you hungry, ad’ika?” The boy cried out happily at the mention of food while Din tried to control his exceeding heart rate that fluttered whenever you spoke in his native language.

It wasn’t your first language.

You had picked up the odd phrase here and there, asking Din to teach you the proper pronunciation. He did so with ease, not really thinking you would adapt or desire to even use it. Safe to say, he was surprised the first time you used the word ad’ika to describe Grogu when singing him to sleep one night. Then his legs nearly gave out under him, the first time he heard your sweet voice call him riduur.

He hadn’t taught you that one.

So the question was; who did teach you?

“Bo told me it means partner,” you had admitted, nervously rocking on your heels at his stuttering reaction. “Did I say it wrong?” You blushed, your lips trembling and eyes watering, worried you may have offended him. Din stepped towards you before stopping himself. If he got any closer, he didn’t know what he’d do but he knew for sure, he wouldn’t want to stop once he started.

“No, cya’rika. Your pronunciation was perfect but-“

“But?” You had interjected, your eyes now on your feet. Din could only recognise the expression as though you were waiting for rejection and that was something Din was absolutely NOT going to do.

“Cya’rika?” You lifted your gaze to his visor, “Riduur means a lot more than partner. Bo told you that, right?”

You frowned in confusion and your body shook anxiously as you stumbled to explain, “Well, she corrected me because I called you my boyfriend and she said the proper word for us- I mean, for you and what you mean to me…that word would be riduur.”

Din fell silent.

Bo you fiend, he mentally tsked.

“It doesn’t mean boyfriend, mesh’la,” Din found himself saying, thinking it would probably be best to rip the bandage off and let you know now to help you realise that you would want to stop using it.

“Oh?” You narrowed your eyes in surprise and he could see the cogs working your brain about why your friend would say that to you.

“Um, it means- well, riduur is- it’s, you’re calling me your husband.”

Your eyes widened and Din had thought he knew how red your face could get but right now your cheeks were as bright as the lava fields of Mustafar.

“It means- I…I called you my husband?” You clarified, your heart pounding erratically.

Din walked to you then silently and your eyes followed his visor until he was stood so close, your head tilted back to meet his gaze. He ran his eyes over your features, noticing that you seemed almost afraid. Not of what he would do. He knew that but afraid that you had upset him.

“You don’t have to stop,” he murmured, a light breath leaving your lips.

“What?” You implored and Din could see the way your body reacted. His eyes on your thighs tensing and the way the knuckles in your hands stiffened, your tongue peeking out to wet your lips.

“You can call me your riduur,” he tilted his head, awaiting your reaction but your cheeks merely bloomed even more crimson than before.

“Ner riduur?”

Din smiled. Your voice interrupting the memory as he met your eyes, now kneeling before him with a small clay bowl of cooked meat and an array of greens.

“Are you hungry? Our friends have cooked the meat and we’re sharing it out. They seem quite pleased. This is for you,” You offered the bowl to him. Din tugged his glove off his hand, taking the bowl with his fingers grazing your warm ones.

“Thank you, cya’rika. I’m glad to hear you’re getting along well with them,” he watches as you beamed happily at his words.

“They seem docile,” you appraised, eyes on the doorway with a finger swiping your chin thoughtfully. “Although I believe them to be perhaps territorial when threatened. They would make for useful allies.”

Din grinned under his helmet.

This was just like you. You find the good in everyone.

“However,” you began and Din’s smile immediately slipped.

“However?” He urged as your brows narrowed.

You laughed, “I did have to sternly inform them that Grogu is our son and not food.” You stood, turning from him while Din scrambled with his words.

“Ner riduur, I don’t like the sound of this. We should leave-“

“Gotcha,” you turned swiftly on your way out the door, winking at him as he let out a heavy sigh. His heart momentarily starting back up again.

“That wasn’t funny,” he poked at the meat with the wooden spork.

You giggled, “I had to say something to get you to lighten up. Grogu is fine. In fact, he’s more than fine. They actually seem to be steering out of his way. He’d used the force earlier to get more meat for his plate. I had to scold him. Not the ewoks.”

“Ewoks?” Din’s shoulders lifted interestedly.

“Yes,” you nodded, “that’s what they are called. The creatures. The Ewok species. One of them had an old book with a description of this planet and the inhabitants.”

“Interesting,” Din looked to the doorway, listening to the small sounds of cheering and clashing of dishes.

He turns back and meets your smile, immediately growing self-conscious at the way you’re staring at him. You giggle when his visor darts down to the bowl and wander towards the doorway, hovering a moment with your hand against the small weaved shutter.

“Enjoy, ner riduur, I’ll make sure our son doesn’t eat too much,” you wink and Din hums lightly under his breath, feeling the overwhelming need to clear his throat when his face grows hotter at your intense eyes.

He hears you giggling again when you shut the door behind you, ensuring his privacy to remove his helmet as he eats.

He doesn’t feel alone as he does though.

Distantly, he can hear the babble of foreign voices and your laughter as well as Grogu’s whines for very likely something more to eat. Din takes his time, eating and surveying your conversation from afar. Something he takes great pleasure in.

A few minutes later, Din stands, his mouth dry from his meal, deciding to venture to find if these creatures have anything to wash their local veggies down with.

He abandons his bowl and the hut, following the light sounds of laughter and foreign voices. In front of one of the treehouses above, Din watches the gathering of Ewoks dancing while playing music. While intrigued by their customs, a flash of green appearing in his peripheral catches his attention and he swiftly turns his visor downward to find his son waddling towards him from out of a nearby hut a lot smaller than the others.

Din bends down, picking Grogu up when he reaches for him.

His son babbles to him in a mumble of incoherent words and mando’a.

“Where is your parent?” Din says. His visor flashes up towards the party above again but you don’t appear to be among them. If you were, Din was pretty sure you’d be prancing around happily like the rest of them.

Grogu babbles again, more increasingly and Din catches the words for “in there” translated from Mando’a. His head turning towards the hue of amber glow emitting from the small hut, shadows dancing from inside.

Din walks toward the door but stops almost instantly before his boots can cross the threshold.

He’s still when he sees you.

Your back to him, crouched down, he watches as you offer your hands to a darkened corner, murmuring soft reassuring words.

Din’s heart paces.

He’s not sure what you’re talking to but nevertheless it has him concerned when his hand lowers to the blaster at his thigh.

Though just as quick as he could hover his hand above it, your hands take the smaller furry ones pulling the shaky ewok from the confines of its comfort bubble. “It’s okay,” you murmur, “see? You are safe.” Din’s heart warms, his hand relaxing at his side. “We are no threat to you,” you whisper and Din goes to turn, a smile on his lips at your tenderness towards these creatures until he sees the way you wrap your arms around the small thing.

He freezes.

You lift it up into your arms, it’s little legs hanging loosely at your side as you clutch it tightly in your embrace, swaying side to side and rubbing your cheek affectionately against its head with a small giggle.

Din’s heart races so fast, he’s afraid the sound of his pulse is echoing through his helmet from his temples.

What in the maker-

The sound of Grogu blowing a loud raspberry fills the silence.

Din steps back suddenly just as your head snaps in his direction at the door. His feet already carrying him as quietly as possible back to your treehouse, patting a jealous Grogu and repeatedly shushing him as he protests in speedy babbles.

A few minutes later and after some pacing, Din ultimately resolved to putting his still babbling son to bed while thinking, if the little womp rat could coherently speak in more mando’a, he was most likely mocking him for running away at the sight of you.

Once Grogu was tucked in and secure, (there was no other balcony from the second floor, just an arched window), Din stomps back down the wooden steps, removing his chest piece and gloves. These small creatures may run in packs but if they were trouble, Din was more than sure he could handle them unarmed.

Once slumped against the tree bark, his ears honing for Grogu’s steady breaths and satisfied with the gentle sound, he lets his eyes fall closed a moment until the growing thud of boots flashes them open again.

You still at the door frame, taking in the relaxed fold of Din’s body in the corner of the room, your eyes frowning between the sleep space you had set up and his position.

When you notice the slight tilt of his head, you put your hands on your hips.

He’s watching you.

He’s awake.

“What?” You inquire, your eyes taking in the silent Mandalorian in front of you. His body stretched out lazily, arm folded against his chest with his back braced against the bark of the treehouse.

Din doesn’t respond.

He’s still fighting the need to shift his body, the discomfort setting in at how hot his face is getting under his helmet. The words burning at the tip of his tongue not quite ready to release. He sighs and you roll your eyes in response, your tired body carrying you up to the second floor to check on your sleeping child.

Leaving the grumpy metal man to his thoughts, Din tries to ignore his desires for you, attempting to drift off to rest but getting a constant flash of the image of you cuddling the Ewok tightly in your arms. Din groans mentally at the sight of your cheek pressed against the top of its furry head, a smile stretched across your face pleasantly. You smooth your fingers through its fur and sway gently from side to side.

Din had yet to hold you like that.

Or hold you in anyway at all.

He had only recently admitted to his feelings and doing so in a rather reserved manner. The closest he’d gotten to touching you was holding your hand. It hadn’t progressed any further since. He wanted to wait until you instigated any physical touch but when you hadn’t, Din just assumed it was unwanted on your part. So he feared the idea of trying to touch you even with your consent.

Did you really want him to? He’d never actually asked. Should he ask? Would you reject him?

He’s not fluffy and his beskar is far from soft but his body can be quite warm after spending most of the day under clothing and armor.

“Din?” Your voice called out in the night.

Oh kriff.

His thoughts had carried themselves to his bed.

The both of you now laying side by side.

A small space between your sleep mats preventing him from feeling your warmth.

“Yes cya’rika?”

Din had watched with stiff hands as you walked back into the hut earlier completely unaware of what he had witnessed. You’d probably think him completely stupid for making such a big deal out of the whole thing. I mean really? Din was older than you and yet he was being completely childish.

Was he really jealous about seeing you hold another creature in a way you had yet to touch him?

“Why are you so quiet?” You questioned.

“Are we not sleeping?” Din replied, matter-of-fact.

But his question left room for an answer and he gets it when he hears you roll over, propping an arm up and looking at his back.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since I came back to rest. What’s wrong?” He feels your eyes burning a hole through his helmet if it were even possible.

“Is it so unusual for me to be quiet, mesh’la? You always said I was deadly silent.” He chuckles, trying to make light while his insides flutter dangerously.

You hum, “This is true but I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Din shudders and he’s thankful you can’t see the movement through his padded suit.

“Everything is fine,” he speaks.

“Why do you lie?” You’re sitting up completely now, cross legged and he can picture your arms over your chest.

“Cya’rika,” he turns back around and sure enough there you are, eyebrows furrowed, arms folded facing him. “I do not lie.”

You exhale, “Din Djarin.”

When you’re using his full name, it’s never a good thing.

“Do you remember when you told me to always share our feelings with one another?”

He sighs. “Yes, I remem-“

“Less than a cycle ago, when Grogu was sick, you took him to Peli and went to the market for medicine. You woke up early and took him. When I woke up, I was beside myself with worry. When eventually you returned in the evening without him, what was my reaction?”

“You were very upset, mesh’la,” he sits up, wanting to provide you with his full attention, knowing you were concerned. It still bothered Din to this day that he overlooked how upset you had been.

“I was very upset, yes and when you told me where Grogu was, what did I say?”

“You told me I made you feel insufficient as a parent because I didn’t tell you our son was sick and made you feel that you couldn’t care for him so left him with a friend who would know what to do.”

“That’s right. I was very angry. I retrieved my son, came back and locked ourselves in our bunk without you until he pulled around from his fever. And what did you say when I finally let you see him?”

“To tell me when you’re upset. So that I can apologise and understand what I had done wrong because I don’t always realise it. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my life with another human.”

“And what did I tell you?”

“To do the same.”

“So that leads us back to the present, my love,” Din’s visor lifts, his heart pounding at the sweet term on your lips. “Tell me what is wrong?”

Din’s body trembles but he swallows a lump in his throat, avoiding your gaze, he lets his thoughts release from his tongue, “Earlier I saw you with one of the creatures.”

You frown but nod, “the ewoks?”

Din nods, “Yes. I saw you holding it rather tightly.”

You seem puzzled until your eyes widen, realising what he’s saying.

“You seemed rather happy when you were holding it. I just thought, well I was curious if that was something you would like to do again?”

It’s silent. It’s so silent Din can hear the rustling of the trees through the forest.

“You mean if I would like to hold the ewok again?” Your voice comes out uneasily, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“I meant, if you would like to hold me?”

Din’s jaw tightens, his eyes closing. He’s so sure you’ll reject him. Why did he even say it? He should’ve just told you something else like how he was worried about the way you joked earlier about the ewoks wanting to eat Grogu, he should’ve just-

“Would you like me to hold you?”

Din’s helmet lifts immediately. His visor on yours and he swears while his head was dropped in denial, you’ve inched closer to him.

“Speak the truth.”

Din’s heart races at your words, his eyes running over your body, you’re practically crawling across to him and his shoulders lift and drop quickly with each uneasy breath he takes.

“Yes,” it’s urgent.

It’s pleading.

But before he can say anything else, your body is curled up into him, your legs trapping his broad ones, your arms slipping under his and flattening deliciously over his aching back muscles. Your head nuzzles up on his chest and Din looks down at your bodies, realising just how perfectly you fit together.

And then you squeeze.

Ever so gently but with enough pressure to send a wave of euphoria drowning out every unsure thought in Din’s mind.

“Is this okay?” You speak softly and Din bends to it, your voice and body draped over him like the softest blanket. His arms loosen, his hands finding refuge over your shoulders, the other weaving his fingers through your hair. You’re so soft. So warm. His fingers tugging gently through your strands, sending aches through your body. Maker, how you’ve longed for him.

“Yes. Is it okay for you?” He needs to know. He needs to know if you wanted this just as much as he does.

“It’s perfect,” and then you lift your head, your mouth inches from the underside of his visor where he swears you must be able to feel his breath escaping there and you do. You have to fight the urge to lift the helmet only so far as to press a soft kiss against those lips you have yet to feel, “You’re perfect, ner riduur.”

You shuffle your head back against his chest, “I’ve always wanted to do this.” You release a satisfied sigh, “I thought you wouldn’t like it.”

Din mentally groans, his arms tightening around you.

“I..I thought you’d reject me, ner kar’ta. That’s why I never asked. I’m sorry,” his voice drips with regret. Every night could’ve felt like this.

You giggle and Din feels his whole body relax at the sound.

“Such fools aren’t we? We got there in the end. So I guess I was wondering if we can do this every night?”

Din chuckles, a finger twirling around a strand of your hair, the other resting at your hip, “I was hoping we could. If that’s okay with you?” He takes the opportunity to tug you closer. His hands working over your back now while you shiver happily at the touch.

“Absolutely,” your lips tip into an amused grin, “especially since you got jealous. I need to make sure your needs are sated it seems.” You let your forehead tip against his helmet in a kiss momentarily and Din wished more than anything right now that he wasn’t wearing it at all.

Din doesn’t even argue with your accusation. He was jealous and he knew you’d find every way going forth to gauge that reaction from him again.

“Goodnight, Din,” you giggle, reading his mind.

“Sweet dreams, ner riduur,” he gently nudges his helmet against your head in return, feeling you relax, your eyes closing and gradually falling asleep in his arms.

Din smiles, watching you breathe slow, the puff of your chest felt against his own.

Maybe he should let you drag him on adventures more often if this is how they end.

[orangegiraffe]

Things I see in a lot of dinluke fics that I go feral for love every time:

Din giving Luke a Keldabe kiss and Luke not getting the significance. Bonus points if Luke mentions that he likes it when Din presses his forehead to his and having no idea (until later) that he just told Din he likes kissing him

A dinluke spar that ends with Luke sitting on top of Din

Literally everyone knowing that Din and Luke are in love before they do

Every mandalorian who meets Luke going “damn he’s the full package. he can fight, he’s good looking, AND he’s good with kids”

Luke being an Absolute Unit in combat

Luke having lightning scars from Palpatine

Din disliking Han (if Boba is in the fic, him also hating Han, but loving Luke and Leia)

Din’s realization that Jedi Master Luke Skywalker and Senator Leia Organa are siblings

Grogu seeing his buir and master as his dads before they’re actually together

Din being soft when he sees Luke and Grogu together

CLAN OF THREE