#and it's gonna be great

[olrinarts]

me waiting for people to yell at me about the new fic

[lunar-wandering]

since i haven't posted a full fic in a while here's a wip

[chaoticspacefam]

“I’ve been thinking about this lately. I was trained to be a Jedi, practically from birth...I wonder if it was the right thing. I never really got the chance to choose.”

“You can do whatever you want now, Ashara.” “....I guess I’m still trying to figure out what I want.”

[kurlyfrasier]

Hallucinations

Pairing: None. Well, Din Djarin & The Darksaber.

Synopsis: The darksaber really wants attention, but its new owner is ignoring him. OR: Din thinks he’s hallucinating.

Word Count: 1187

A/N: So this came out of nowhere. Kinda funny. I enjoyed writing it, anyway lol so I hope you enjoy reading it!

Warnings: Threats of death. Haunted!Din. Name calling. Hallucinations, to my knowledge, are not a symptom of concussions or traumatic brain injuries, just fyi. Let’s just say Din isn’t thinking straight, which is a symptom of concussions and TBI’s.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Star Wars/Mandalorian anything.

All Mando’a translations I get from mandoa.org.

“Kill him!” I roared, ghostly hands clenched into fists, hating that I could not kill the hut’uun myself. How good that would feel. To slice the shabuir’s head off, feel the flesh burn around my blade. To feel his life force disintegrate. But Din Djarin could not hear me. Not yet. If only I could move my hilt into Djarin’s hand, where I rightfully belonged.

What was taking him so long anyway? Any other person wouldn’t have wasted a second to claim me and the glory I give. I looked down, fists relaxing at my new form, proud to be wearing beskar’gam again after years of that ridiculous plastoid and cape. 

“Bah?” My vision tunneled to the source of the sound. A familiar small, green, big-eared creature stood just inside the hall holding up his tired little arms for someone to take off his cuffs. So innocent. So scared. And so very strong with the force. Unbearable guilt bore down heavy in the surrounding Force. I had never been used for something so despicable as to hold a baby hostage - old as he may be. I hoped, in that moment, to be destroyed. Not even the worst of Mand’alors had been so cruel as to hurt an ad.

Djarin hissed at Gideon to cuff himself and strode to the kid with more determination than physical strength to carry him there. The cuffs were quickly snapped apart by his hands. Immediately, the child’s Force presence grew to immeasurable heights, all encompassing. The sense of safety and home enveloped me like a blanket the moment Grogu was in the crook of his buir’s arm. The sight lifted my guilt enough to become bearable. My blade may have once been close enough to singe the baby’s robe, but at least I was not forced to give the final blow.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Gideon quirked a brow, acting as though someone could truly forget about me. Ha! What a joke. 

“Come, Djarin,” I demanded, voice venomously low. “Let me do the honors of ending the life of this pathetic Imp.”

“The darksa-”

“What,” I growled over Gideon reminding him of my presence. “How do you not remember winning me in combat?” My gloved finger pointed at Djarin accusingly as he made his way over. “You flung me over here when you disarmed him.” 

I scowled behind the helmet, watching as Djarin picked me up from the ground, tugging me closer to scrutinize and looking as though he had no idea the power he held. Grogu’s tired gaze flicked between it and my ghostly self before finally cooing a quiet hello. 

“Move,” Djarin stated firmly, moving back toward the Imp, pulling my ghostly form with him. Out of habit, I moved as though I had legs of my own. When Gideon didn’t respond, I sang my darkest tune, morphing from a ghostly presence to a piping hot silhouette of a blade.

Gideon understood the threat for what it was. A promise of death I would gladly handle. Now moving, I reached out to Din.

***

Din Djarin was hallucinating. A concussion, maybe? It was the only explanation, considering the hammering he received by a dark trooper minutes earlier. One moment the laser sword-thing was on, and the next it morphed into a ghostly looking version of himself, standing between him and Bo-Katan.

“Not once,” it said, flabbergasted as Moff Gideon explained what the laser sword was. “Not twice. But three times!” Its arms raised in exasperation. “Three times you tried to give me away. To her,” it looked over its shoulder. “She, who was not worthy the first time I was given to her.”

Pointedly ignoring it and Gideon, still not understanding why Kryze wouldn’t just take the stupid thing, Djarin gently set Grogu down on the floor for safe-keeping.

Still, Din swore it muttered something along the lines of Mand’alor the Di’kut, even as alarms blared and the dark troopers boarded the ship. He ignored it. It would go away. Eventually. After a good, long sleep. For now, he had to figure out a way to get Grogu to safety. He’s all that mattered. The only thing that mattered.

“Use me,” it stated like a soldier volunteering for war. “Di’kut,” it spat at him after not immediately responding, and not for the first time. “I can slice through those droids like butter,” its arm flung out, gloved hand pointing to the door the droids were quickly pounding open.

But Din had never fought with a sword, let alone a laser sword. To go at those things with a weapon that felt heavy enough to be a bag of wet sand just carrying it around sounded like a bad idea. So, Din pretended he didn’t hear it. Pretended he didn’t see it standing there in his face, smacking him in the helmet with its vambrace. The clang of beskar against beskar was deafening to his already pounding head.

“Jetti,” he heard the apparition say, sounding put-out for missing out on the action currently playing on the small security screen. Of a cloaked figure with a laser sword of his own, easily destroying darktroopers left and right. The apparition looked straight at him and he could feel the accusation as it muttered an ‘I told you so’ under its breath. 

Still, Djarin thought, he had nowhere near the skill with the sword like the Jedi clearly had. His shoulders sagged, disheartened he would have to give Grogu, his son, away to a stranger - a stranger who could clearly keep the kid safer than he ever could - just after reuniting with him. 

The pounding at the door stopped. He slammed the button with more force than necessary, opening the doors when nobody else would.

Everything after that was a blur. He remembers telling the kid to go, that he would see him again, of showing Grogu his face, of a non-existent being incessantly badgering him with the same accusations over and over and over. Like a backwards echo, getting louder and louder.

“He is your son.”

“You are his buir.”

“An aruetii, really?” It huffed. “And a Jetti, at that.”

“Mand’alor the Dar’buir.”

That’s when he snapped, unable to take anymore of its abuse, not caring if everyone on Fett’s ship would hear and think him crazy, even with the door closed to the bunk room.

“HE WILL BE SAFE. WITH HIM,” he roared, throwing the helmet he had yet to put back on at it only for it to fly straight through and hit the wall with a loud BANG. “Can’t you see? Life with me- It’s dangerous- Not safe,” he pleaded through gritted teeth before deflating, his second wind done and gone. Long before the Jedi flew off with his son. “Grogu needs training and not the kind I can give him,” the words tasted bitter on his tongue, no matter how true they were.

“So, now I exist,” it sounded triumphant.

“No,” Din shuffled over to a bunk and fell on it, not caring that his armor pinched and dug into his scratched up, body bloody and broken. “Leave me alone.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

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Taglist: @readingfan [(hopefully it worked this time lol) Also, hopefully you don't mind there not being a Reader insert 🥴]

[coconut530]

why is Good Intentions by Coyote Kid like one of my only Shiloh songs ever????? Like... 1:30 - 2:02??????

[prideandpen]

i think the most fun part about writing To Remain In Your Stars is how I can start rereading a scene with the intention of finding a particular sentence to keep everything happening in order and whatnot only to end up reading scene after scene because it’s a section of the story where these two are just deliriously in love Is this also super inconvenient for getting things done? You bet it is.

[flame-shadow]

hey did you know??? that if you stop stretching and maintaining mobility in your body then it goes away?? things get tight and you can't move the way that you used to??? and when you decide to try getting a stretch routine going that the first week fucking sucks because you keep going 'damn i used to be able to do this no problem' and then you have to switch gears and be kind to yourself and just focus on getting better from here instead of berating yourself for dropping the good habits in the first place??? and your body never stops aging so you gotta keep taking care of it and sometimes you gotta take care of it extra in certain areas because of things that happened when you were younger and it's boring and sometimes hurts but it's so necessary???

i am yelling this at myself right now i am going through An Experience (trying to get into a routine of body maintenance again for my physical and mental health)

[elodieunderglass]

hi. what do you mean

[roach-works]

pokemon theory i just thought of: new pokemon appear in the pokemon universe when they're designed in this one. they're created ex nilho but they have retroactive realness; they weren't here yesterday, but today they've always existed.

pokemon researchers have had to suss this out on their own over decades, and it's a really unpopular theory, made worse by the fact that no one can come up with a better one. from their perspective pokemon generate spontaneously but in both chronological directions, and the similarities of many pokemon seem to be detived from a conscious and creative understanding of the world--their world, though? what other world could there be?. there are ice cream pokemon and pokeball pokemon and sword pokemon and trash bag pokemon.

there are so many pokemon with both wings and a beak. is this like swords? is there an ur-flying type that this class evokes? there are so many canine pokemon. but what is a canine? is there such a thing? there's only one set of sword pokemon, right. one tea-set line. is *feline* a coherent category? would the ur-feline have two legs or four? why do so many pokemon have humanlike bodyplans-- but then again, why so few?

pichu has always been the prior form of pikachu. why didn't it get counted in order? why do we call it that instead of saying pikachu is the middle evolution of the pichu line? why can so many trainers remember finding this out well into their journeys? why didn't ash start with one?

this is why pokemon researchers do a lot of labwork, drink heavily, and use ten year olds for field research. you can't have an existential crisis if you don't even know what time is yet.

[kikimaymay]

This is my hot mess of a garden plan. I particularly like the pots. Also, striving more towards a good pollinator garden, because we fucked up years ago and got a butterfly bush.

[spookedbees]

everyone make way for the prince and princess of spooky season!!!

[nosnexus]

NEVER STOP BLOWING UP!

[eggsdrawings]

the kaminari and mina friendship is underutilized and i think we need to change that

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

"You and me, Ethan. Together we go save Rose, and then we can grind Miranda into paste!"

[hunnam]

Max Deeds via IG/Tiktok July 31st, 2024

[golyadkin]

it's because i wouldn't let you kill the bounty hunter isn't it