#one where they grow up mandalorian

[cinlat]

Life Day (2024)

Fynta frowned into the dregs of her drink while festive music failed to lift her spirits. She should be sitting in rage-inducing traffic on Nar Shaddaa, not watching Imperial soldiers bully merchants for information they didn’t have.

A shadow loomed over Fynta’s table. A shadow that Fynta ignored. “You should be aiding in the search, Hunter.” The smooth, pompous voice slid over Fynta’s senses like silk. She recognized the pressure of the Force and discarded it with a wide grin at the Sith.

”You paying?” Fynta would rather avoid a manhunt, especially one looking for her. When she made it back to base, she’d need to figure out how or who tipped off the space station’s security. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the station had gone on lock down within an hour of her arrival, or that they were looking for a Republic spy. Besides, she was stewing in her own self pity and didn’t have the energy to play games with Sith. 

He was a young Sith with a slight build, probably human once. Cybernetic enhancements blocked much of his face, but there was no denying the red eyes of the truly corrupt. The Sith drew back his shoulders. “As a citizen of the Empire, it is your duty to aid the Sith in all matters.”

”Good thing I’m not an Imperial citizen,” Fynta answered. She slapped a hand onto the unmistakable helm resting on the table. “I answer to the Mand’alor, and lately, he answers to credits. Without that, I’m on vacation.”

It was a gamble. Though Fynta had received training to protect her mind, not much could stop an angry Sith from crushing her throat. Only that T-shaped visor stood between her and death. The Sith didn’t know that Fynta didn’t belong to a clan or that no one would reign down hell should she miss a check in. She would be mourned, maybe even missed, but not much else. 

With a sneer, the young Sith waved forward two of his guards. “This one doesn’t leave your sight.” Fynta lifted her still empty cup to the Sith’s retreating back while the soldiers took seats at the adjacent table. Fynta ordered them drinks since they were stuck babysitting her. Neither touched them, but at least she tried. 

Fynta ignored the soldiers and their faceless glares. She was halfway through an article about the upcoming advancements to her favorite blaster model when another shadow invaded her space. Fynta huffed a sigh and prepared to give whichever soldier had grown a pair a piece of her mind when her comment sputtered. A grizzled Nautolan stood above her wearing a grin wide enough to display her sharp, yellow teeth. 

“Gift from the hulking mass at the bar.” Black eyes glittered with amusement as she set a thimble of dark liquid on the table. Fynta lifted a brow at the Mandalorian specialty, earning a wink from the old bar wench as she trundled off with a swagger that her bowed back had yet to steal.

Fynta sniffed at the overtly sweet Tihaar. It was a fifty-fifty shot that someone had paid the old woman to spike it, but she was beyond caring. She’d been looking forward to this Life Day. A torturously jolly round of sweets, light shows, and festivities with her favorite person. Caldus had the week off and had laid out enough holiday holos to ensure Fynta got many, long naps. Instead, she was stuck on an Imperial space station, avoiding a man hunt and pissing off Sith. At least one of those things brought her cheer.

Motion drew Fynta’s attention as a form slid into the booth across from her. “For fuck’s sake,” she muttered into the Tihaar, intentionally ignoring her likely suitor. That seemed to be the theme of the day, not that it had worked out so far.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the attention of a pretty woman these days?” He hadn’t made it halfway through his grumble before Fynta’s gaze snapped up to the tusks curling away from a familiar faceplate. She didn’t need to see his face to know that he was grinning.

”How?” It was the only question that mattered, given that his affiliation with the Republic military was more public than hers. 

Caldus leaned an arm across the back of his booth with a reverberated laugh. “You’re not the only one good at your job.” He nodded to the soldiers, who seemed to take it at face value that two Mandalorian would meet in a bar with or without their interference. 

“I know but…” Fynta let the question die. It was too close to personal information spoken allowed in enemy territory. She shouldn’t be surprised. Caldus had been their tracker back when they’d hunted together. Every target they’d brought in was because of him. Still, Fynta had never had his skillset turned on her. And the speed at which he’d found her was almost insulting.

Caldus leaned his elbows on the table, and Fynta met him in the middle so that when he spoke, the words were only for her. “I’ll always find you, cyare.”

A strange tightness constricted Fynta’s chest even as she laughed. Leaning back, she gestured at Caldus’s helmet. “I didn’t think they were letting anyone in.”

The server droid chirped, igniting a menu display for their convenience. Caldus made a few selections while Fynta watched him, still not entirely sure this wasn’t a fever dream brought on by bad Tihaar. When he was done, Caldus sighed. “They’re letting ships land, but no one is allowed to leave.” He removed his helm, wiggling those bushy brows at Fynta. “They thought I was an ugly Gamorrean.”

Fynta barked a laugh, ignoring the way the two soldiers shadowing her glanced up. She kept her attention on Caldus, refusing to let their moment be ruined. “I think you’re beautiful.” Caldus answered with a grin wide enough to show off his tusks and the blunt teeth behind them. 

Food and more drinks came and went while Fynta and Caldus carefully danced around topics they didn’t speak about. There were updates from Verin, who had kept in touch with both of them as best as he could. Redacted stories from missions and everyday life. Finally, Caldus leaned back and patted the armour over his stomach. He watched Fynta scrape the rest of her dessert from the plate, then turned to the soldiers. “My girl and I are going to enjoy the sights.”

Neither soldier objected as Caldus stood to full height, taking up the space between their tables. He palmed his helm and slid it into place, then offered a hand to Fynta. She accepted, pulling her helmet on as well.

Once sequestered in the privacy of her small sanctuary, Fynta opened a line to Caldus. “Where are we going?” The soldiers waited until they had reached the door before following. 

“To the theater,” Caldus answered with that damned grin. “You didn’t think that you were getting out of the holo-athon, did you?”

Fynta groaned because it was expected, letting Caldus pull her under his arm when she feigned an escape. In truth, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

Happy Holidays all!!!

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Reunion Interview

Plot: A reunion of our two favorite actors following their crazy lives after the ending of the fan-favorite show: The Mandalorian

Word Count: 4.7K

Pairing: Platonic!Pedro Pascal x Platonic!Reader, Paul Mescal x Reader

Warnings: sweet "father-daughter" moments, laughter giggles, just general fluff

A/N: This is something that's been on my mind for a while and with Gladiator 2 this only fueled it. CONTAINS CLAN OF THREE SPOILERS+WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE. Read all of the Clan of Three Series here and also read Where the Wild Things Are here

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“Alright, we are all ready?” The interviewer asks and the cameramen and sound people each give their sounds of agreement and then turn to give the go-ahead to start, “Hello guys it’s a pleasure meeting you two. It must be good to reunite once again. Let’s get a little introduction then go crazy.” He greets the two actors sitting next to each other.

“Hello world I’m Pedro Pascal.” “And I’m Y/n L/n and we’re here with Variety Magazine.” The two of you greet the camera before looking at one another. Pedro gives a fake serious look and you roll your eyes at his antics and he burst into laughter.

“This is what I dealt with for five years oh god how did I do it.” You pinch the bridge of your nose while the older man dies down his chuckles.

“Don’t act all innocent you were in just as much mischief as I was.” Pedro points at you, “I was barely an adult on set you’re supposed to be the responsible one.” It seemed like years had flown by. This TV show was your breakthrough role and allowed your career to skyrocket and it was all thanks to meeting this man.

“Plenty of fun stories from set between the cast and crew.” The interviewer asks you both and Pedro nods enthusiastically.

“The first two seasons this one was attached to my hip. I couldn’t even go for a nap without her waiting outside of my trailer.” He says with a chuckle and you cross your arms.

“You were the only person on set who was childish enough to want to hang out with a high schooler.” You reply sassily and the interviewer has to cover his mouth to hide his laughter while Pedro gasps dramatically while holding his chest. “How dare you call me childish.”

“So Y/n being the youngest person of the cast and growing up on the show how did it affect your character?” You smile smoothing out the wrinkle in your pants.

“Well, I was cast in 2018 a couple of months after Pedro was already cast. It’s funny cause Dave and Jon actually when creating this show my character was never meant to be in this show just an idea thrown around.” You explain, “But they decided why not add another bounty for Mando to take care of, but through the show, they both learn to take care of each other and he becomes a father figure to her.”

“And Pedro how was that playing a role of becoming a father figure and being there in her life?” He asks and Pedro scratches his beard.

“I mean at first not gonna lie I was very nervous. I have worked with younger actors before but this was something different. It wasn’t a child actor that played my son or daughter, or someone who was an adult it was a teenager that I would be working with quite closely. I mean we met for our first table read and you were just this shy girl who was meant to be this sassy badass character. But you blew me and the crew away when we started working together,” Pedro says glancing over at you with a nostalgic look in his eyes, “Both the relationship of our characters had this whole evolution from being adversaries and not even friendly with one another to a bond that ran deeper than blood. I watched her grow up with every episode and season from that timid little girl to this strong intelligent woman before me.” You give a pouting smile before putting your face in your hands.

“I hate you. You’re gonna make me cry.” You sigh making the interviewer and Pedro laugh and wraps his arms around your hunched-over body rocking you side to side. “You’re not the only one teary-eyed,” The interviewer says fanning his eyes and you smile at his attempt to not single you out.

“It’s all good I’m professional.” You steel your face wiping away any trace of sadness from his touching speech. “Yeah, Pedro is an alright guy I guess.” You shrug and Pedro bursts into laughter throwing his head back

“Okay getting back on track. You’ve both been very busy this past year. Season 3 of The Mandalorian has been out and fans are both crying over how good this show is and how you tore us all apart with the ending.” He says and Pedro fake cries remembering the ending.

“Hey, I didn’t want her to leave me. She went to go find herself.” He points his thumb at me and you slap it away, “I didn’t have a decision in it as well. You should have seen him on my final day of filming, so as you know this man over here was gone pretty much all of season three cause he was filming his show with his other kids.” Referencing Bella Ramsey and Nico Parker his two other ‘children’ in The Last Of Us.

“Pedro is just our favorite father figure.” The interviewer says and you nod in agreement. “You have too many children to keep count of.” You say and Pedro gives a sheepish grin.

“I’m just good with kids.” He shrugs.

“But anyways so since he was busy filming for that show we were able to have his amazing stunt doubles, I love you Brendan and Lateef become him. So comes my final scene where I leave and Din is left all sad with Grogu. I think he’s in Canada filming and we block out the scene Dave and Jon tell us we’re all set. That scene feels very close to me 'cause it feels like my goodbye to both the character and to the crew who’s been there since I was eighteen.” You remember the sadness that day on set knowing that this was your final hours with this group.

“So we start rolling and I go through my whole monologue,”

“Which was amazing by the way.” The interviewer butts in and you smile,

“Oh thank you. So I do my thing and who I think is Brendan just breaks down crying before he can say his line I panic and try to improvise to get him back on track but when Dave calls cut I expect it to be Brendan to take off the helmet and apologize but turns out it was this crybaby.” You point your thumb to an embarrassed Pedro.

“Did you expect no waterworks when you were leaving me?” He defends himself, “I didn’t expect you there in the first place! But it was sweet and after many takes because he couldn’t get through his lines without crying we finished my last scenes.”

“I have seen that video from Dave Filoni of the behind-the-scenes of your final day on set.” On the TV beside the interviewer plays a video that shows the set and crew and there are the two of you going through the scene before Jon calls cut.

You remember that take vividly it ended up being the one used for the final cut, the second ‘Cut!’ was shouted the crew broke into cheers. You immediately crouch and break into tears and Pedro removes his helmet pulling you into a bearhug crying into your shoulder you both cry out your characters and each other's final goodbyes on set.

“Give it up to Y/n for her final scene! That’s a wrap for her.” Dave says behind the camera as it moves closer to you and Pedro. Both of you were teary-eyed, Pedro looking like a wreck as you give a cheesy grin through tears and Pedro presses a kiss to your temple before pulling you into another tight hug and that’s when the video ends.

“A very heartfelt video that shows the bond you two have working together over five years.” He says and the two of you smile. Just being a part of the Star Wars franchise had been a dream, growing up watching the original and the prequels as a child and now being involved in this story was game-changing. “Outside of Star Wars, you’ve both been very busy Pedro with Wonder Woman, The Unbearable Weight, hosting SNL, and one of the most popular shows of this year The Last of Us.”

“Stop it you’re making me blush.” Pedro waves his hand acting bashfully, “Don’t forget the three Emmy nominations.” You pipe in and Pedro covers his face at all the compliments headed his way. This man was way too humble.

“You’re not off the hook either you’ve been very busy yourself, you got your nomination for an Emmy for ‘The Mandalorian’, you’ve been in Bullet Train, Across the Spider-Verse, In the Heights, the latest Indiana Jones, and you just wrapped up A Quiet Place: Day One, all while going to school and getting your college degree now finally enjoying adulthood, how is that like.” The interviewer reminds you of the work you’ve done in the past five years.

You laugh twisting the rings that adore your fingers, “I mean high school was easier as I had an on-set teacher and graduated right around in the middle of filming In the Heights. Then for college right as the pandemic hit we all were on lockdown I continued with online courses and once it lifted it was working a schedule of classes and work but all the films I’ve been on have been so accommodating. With the program I took I graduated right after we wrapped Season 3 and before the Press Tour,” Pedro makes a cheering noise as the interviewer laughs.

“I’m assuming you were in attendance for that Pedro?” He questions and Pedro nods enthusiastically, “Of course, I was there for both high school and college! I made a sign and everything.” He and the interviewer laugh as you shake your head.

“Did he?!”

“It was the same big sign with a bunch of horrible pictures of me I think it said, ‘Y/n L/n my unofficial daughter’ with like a bunch of hearts.” You can picture the sign clearly remembering both high school and college walking across the stage to receive your diploma and hearing your friends and family cheer Pedro being one of the loudest.

“Since graduating and now fully dedicating yourself to film how has it been?” The interviewer questions and you give a wide smile.

“I love it so much, while it was stressful balancing work and classes being done is so rewarding. I’ve been able to accept so many new projects and attend so many events I couldn’t before due to classes.” In college, you and your manager had discussed your schedule working around sets while focusing on your education. You decided to strictly do online courses just to make things easier if you do need to travel for work but you’ve been to school events and made friends in college despite your virtual learning.

“Is this the first time you are meeting back up in person since the premiere of Season Three?” He asks and it makes sense with your guys’ busy schedules.

“No surprisingly since we wrapped Season Three there was a time when we didn’t see each other, with Pedro busy with Strange Way of Life, and I had just ended college. Plus I just moved to New York and then got involved with A Quiet Place we didn’t see each other in person until I think it was when you hosted SNL..?” You explain and Pedro perks up.

“Nooo you were there for the premiere of The Last of Us.” He calls you out and your jaw drops you completely forget how busy and how many premieres it all blends. “I would say you kinda stole the show when you appeared on the carpet, none of us were expecting you to be there.” The interviewer says with a laugh.

“That would be an understatement. So it’s the night before the premiere I’m in LA and I think she’s still in New York I remember I called you cause I felt like I was going to die,” Pedro retells and you laugh remembering picking up the phone to see a very nervous Pedro who was pacing in a panic about the premiere for the show.

“You were fine just being a big baby as usual you did the same thing during season one.” He shushes you trying to cover your mouth with his hand but you dodge from it.

“ANYWAYS,” He raises his voice, “Night of the premiere and I feel like I’m going to puke and crap myself all at the same time. But I get there everything is alright I see the rest of the cast happy to see Bellie again all those good things. I’m doing an interview and I think Bella was still on the carpet taking some photos when this roar of cheers came from the beginning. I’m thinking it’s Ashley Johnson or Troy Baker the original Joel and Ellie but I can’t see from down there. So they want me to get some photos with Bella and how I couldn’t tell they were planning something is beyond me.” You and the interviewer start giggling and you see queued up is a video from that night.

“Oh god, you have a video!” Pedro groans covering his face and you nudge him forcing him to watch.

The shouts of fans and photographers as Pedro poses for photos and you can see Bella go over and pull him over as the pair take photos together. Pedro places his hand on his stomach a technique he has used for years to quell his anxiety. The flashing lights and screams of fans only grow louder for a second and he just laughs confused at them. Bella squeezes his arm from his right side and he can sense a presence on his left side and he assumes it’s another cast member.

“Hey P…” A voice whispers in his ear and his eyes widen comically and he whips to turn to face you who has a cheesy smile on your face.

“What the fuck!”

The cameras show Pedro quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you in the air and you laugh loudly before he puts you down and immediately talks rapidly questioning how you are here, how this happened, when you planned this, he had just called you a few hours before. The cameras start yelling at you two to pose and the pair of you pose a big grin spread across Pedro’s face. The video ends as he pulls Bella and Nico making it a group photo of all his on-screen daughters.

You laugh as it freezes at the photo of all of you smiling and laughing.

“I’m still in shock you managed to pull a fast one on me but that truly made my night,” Pedro says.

“It was all Bella and Nico’s planning I didn’t even know how they even managed to keep it from you during all those press tours. I was fully there like four days before the premiere,” You say, and on the screen are photos you had posted following the surprise of you hanging with Bella and Nico, and the rest of the last of us crew. One photo that makes you giggle is you standing before a snoring Pedro on a couch in a green room that you had Bella take for you when you snuck to watch their interviews.

“Speaking of Bella and Nico. I would say you including Sophie Thatcher blew up the internet in the ‘Children of Pedro’ interview,” The interviewer mentions and you smile and a thumbnail of the interview with you and these amazing actors and actresses.

“Oh, that interview was so much fun. It was the first time I met Bella and Nico as I worked alongside Sophie during Boba Fett and we all had this instant chemistry. Following that we all became good friends and we try to hang out when any of us are in town or plan stuff.” You explain and you see Pedro has a warm smile happy to see all the people he cares deeply for are friends, “Pedro’s glad all his children aren’t fighting.” You smirk and both the interviewer and Pedro laugh at your comment.

“I’m glad my home has some form of order,” Pedro bounces off your quip and the interviewer looks over some of his notes.

“Alright, I have some fan questions sent in for the both of you to answer if that’s alright.” He asks as both you and Pedro take sips from your drinks.

“Sounds great!” “Hit me with them.”

The interviewer nods excitedly looking over at you, “Alright Y/n we’ll start with you. This is a question from @pedroswife1975 ‘I was just as gagged at Pedro’s SNL performance I wanted to know if you had any clue of Pedro’s plans or did you go in just as blind as everyone else.’.” The screen shows a college work on Pedro’s SNL night.

“Oh, that was a crazy night, I was so excited to hear he was hosting SNL cause I was used to this guy’s craziness,” You say pointing a thumb at the older man, “I didn’t realize he was dropping hints or asking for my opinion like the fan cam skit he asked me about how I felt about like fan edits. To those watching I love them so much and genuinely lay in bed kicking my legs seeing the crazy shit yall make of me or people I know. Also, that fucking voice in the memory lost one.” Pedro bursts into laughter.

“What voice? This is my normal talking voice.” He flawlessly does the valley girl's voice that makes you speak through giggles.

“I think it was when he was in New York to rehearse for SNL and we’ve been meeting up and hanging out and we were at this cafe and he slips into this voice and I literally couldn’t help giggling,” You say, “So when I go to the taping I had to cover my mouth to stop from giggling everyone second.”

“It’s an amazing voice though.” The interviewer says in the valley girl accent, “Oh totally it’s completely amazingggg.” You respond by going heavy on the vocal fry unable to burst into a fit of giggles alongside Pedro.

“Okay, next question for Pedro. This is from @y/nssoulmate ‘I’m dying to know cause those Instagram photos were insane, but how crazy was Y/n’s 21st birthday?! Please I’m dying to know I’ll give my first child to know!!’.” You immediately groan covering your face and the pair laugh. On the screen appears a photo of your twenty-first birthday it’s partially blurry but it’s of you looking plastered. A ‘21’ crown halfway on your frizzy hair from the humidity of Pedro’s apartment that he transformed into a club vibe, a drunk grin on your face with an arm around Pedro’s shoulder the other holding a martini. Pedro is practically holding you up looking drunk as well as a beer in his free hand.

Pedro chuckles rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m going to be so honest I don’t remember much of that night. Someone thought it was a good idea to try and outdrink each other.”

“Hey! I was given full rein since it was my birthday. You were meant to be the responsible adult. Luckily Sarah Paulson and Oscar Issac were the actual adults that night,” You defend yourself. Truly that night was a blur but it was such a fun night. Your friends had taken you out for breakfast and a full day of celebration before you received a text from Pedro to go to his apartment to get his gift that he accidentally shipped to his place. Turns out it was a surprise and he was able to come back from shooting for The Last of Us and bring along your close friends and family.

“For my soulmate unfortunately neither Pedro nor I remember that night but trust from what those there that night it was the best birthday someone could through for me. Though I did avoid alcohol for like a month.” You say and Pedro groans remembering the hangout you both suffered the following day.

“Okay question for you Ms. Partyer. @imstillsadfromkazsdeath,” You laugh at hearing from the person’s social handle, “Their question is with news of both Wicked which you worked alongside Director John Chu during In the Heights, and Gladiator 2 has your co-star, Joseph Quinn, your father-figure Pedro, and your friend Paul Mescal coming out at the same time. Which are you seeing first Wicked or Gladiator 2?” On the screen, it shows a college of you with each respective person mentioned. A photo of you nineteen on set in New York City with John Chu and Lin Manuel Miranda, a picture of you and Pedro during premiere of season 3 of Mandalorian, a picture of you and Joseph Quinn on the set of A Quiet Place both dusty and covered in fake blood, and finally a picture of you and Paul Mescal at the this recent Met Gala a candid photo of inside the event talking during dinner.

“One more of a sidebar, I’m still sad about Kaz’s death if I could’ve changed it I would’ve both Freddy and I were so bummed filming those scenes. But for your question fuck you.” You answer so seriously that both Pedro and the interviewer burst into laughter.

“Seriously fuck you for making me choose. One I love John Chu and I am so excited to see Wicked I’ve been obsessed with it since a kid and I saw Idina and Kristin on Broadway so I need to see what Cynthia and Ariana do with this. But I also love all three guys and want to support them too 'cause I also love Gladiator and I know my father would be super betrayed since it’s our go-to movie to watch.” You were in such a rough spot.

“Can I clone myself?” You ask and both Pedro and the interviewer shake their head which makes you let out a frustrated groan, “You know what? I’ll see whatever movie I get invited to first. This leaves me not to choose it’s in the hands of John and the boys so they need to battle it out.”

“Wow, seriously such a cop-out,” Pedro whines and you shrug, “You can’t force me to decide if I don’t have the choice.”

“Very well played. Alright, our final question for Pedro from @pedroiszaddyfr they ask ‘Hey Pedro if I get chosen I’m absolutely in love with you and just want you to know that.”

“Aw, I love you too,” Pedro replies and the interviewer continues.

“So my question is in The Last of Us after season 1 in the books ‘The Last of Us: Where the Wild Things Are’ we do get introduced to Joel’s second biological daughter is there any potential plans to include them in the show making them canon since they aren’t in Part 2 and if so. Please for the love of all these mighty get Y/n to play your daughter she would kill the role!” The interviewer chuckles at the question and you look over at Pedro who thinks over the question.

“Well as I’m sure many of you do know in the books we do get an extremely interesting character that changes and adds more depth to the characters of the game. I’d love them to add her into the show and we see the change in Joel and Ellie during the period before season two. I mean I’d be so down for Y/n to be a part of this but that’s in the hands of Craig and Neil. Unless you know something I don’t?” Pedro turns to look at you and you raise your hands shaking your head.

“I’m just as clueless as you. But I would love to be a part of the show. I’ve read the book and she truly is such an interesting character. I mean that opening fight scene in the cabin before Joel and Tommy pull up is so fucking cool. But yeah Craig and Neil hit me up before Pedro starts begging and whining.” You say and a bark of laughter comes from the older man.

“Well thank you both so much for taking the time and talking about your lives and this amazing reunion. Is this the last you too will see each other until the next reunion?” The interviewer says.

“Nope! This girl can’t get rid of me now that we’re both back in New York for the time being.” Pedro says wrapping an arm around your shoulder and resting his head on top of yours.

“If anyone wants to take this old man off my hand you can have him,” You comment and Pedro gasps pushing you away from him as you giggle, “I’m kidding I love him and he’s amazing but yeah we got tickets for Beyonce coming up so I am very excited while I need this one to listen to her entire discography before we go,” You point your thumb at him and he raises his hand.

“Hey, I got a decent chunk under my belt. Plus I’ve known Beyonce longer than you.” Pedro says and the pair of you being bickering having that be the outro of the interview.

The pair of you collect your items from your dressing rooms before heading outside. Pedro has his arm wrapped around your shoulder to make sure you don’t bump into anything your gaze glued to your phone. The cool New York breeze sends chills down your spine as you scroll through Instagram. A buzz from your phone a text saying ‘Look up’ and when you look up you see Paul standing a few feet away in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt a trench coat over it with a cap and glasses.

“Paul!” You smile lowering your phone and pulling away from Pedro to go over to Paul who welcomes you in his arms, “I thought we were gonna meet at dinner?”

He shrugs a half grin on his face, “Thought I surprise you and then we can head together. What’s up Pedro” You smile at his thoughtfulness. Pedro accepts his handshake.

“Good to see you Paul, how’s the city treating you?” He asks knowing that Paul came here just a few days ago from London when you mentioned it.

“Good real good. You know how the city usually is but luckily I have a good guide,” Paul says squeezing your shoulder and you flush shying away. Pedro smiles glad to see you are happy as the pair of you look at each other with loving looks.

“Well, I’ll leave you both be to enjoy the rest of your night. I got plans to meet with Sarah and Lux soon,” He says giving Paul a handshake before you pull away and give Pedro a big hug which he equally reciprocates.

“Send Sarah and Lux my regards.” You say and Pedro nods, “Lux wants to see you soon so be sure to reach out to her.”

“I will and don’t forget we have drinks this Friday,” You say pointing your finger at him and he nods while pulling out his headphones.

“Yes, mom…” He rolls his eyes before starting to walk away sending a final wave, “Have a good night!”

“Bye Pedro.” “Bye P I love you!” You shout so he can hear over his headphones.

“Love you too kid!” He says blowing you a kiss before disappearing within the crowd. You bring your attention back to Paul who tucks a stray strand behind your ear.

“What are you looking at? Is something on my face?” You ask trying to reach for your face but he stops you holding your hand and giving a squeeze.

“I’m just looking at you, a chuisle mo chroí. You’re just beautiful is all.” He says slipping to Irish so easily it sends a shiver down your spine at his accent.

“Stop being so cheesy,” Your face flushes hot as you shove him away starting in the direction of the subway station. You hear him run up after you easily wrapping his arm around your waist before placing a kiss on your lips which you eagerly accept your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. Pulling away a bit, he gives a familiar smirk that makes you grin as you fully step back taking hand and the pair make their way to your plans.

“You’re such a sap.”

“A sap for you my love~”

“Shut up!”

a/n: y'all I'm alive I swear these finals have truly been killing me and TRUST, any paused work will be coming back I swear on my unborn child.

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Take the damn shot

A/N: Ohhhhh I've spiraled. Going from Mandalorian fics to writing about a radioactive cowboy with no nose within a couple weeks of each other is totally healthy :) Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence. Summary: A single quiet day in the saloon is all you wanted. But somehow, your Ghoul partner is pulling his gun and you're covered in another person's blood. Honestly, it's just typical.

Word Count: 1.7k+

(GIF Credit to @djo)

The Ghoul hates to admit it, but he needs you.

In the same sick and twisted, goddamned way he needs the Vials to stay sane, he needs you next to him. When poison air grows thick and the scorching sun sinks beyond a brutalized horizon, you’re always at his side. Day in and day out, you stick around. Full of piss and vinegar, ready to take on the fucked up world you’re all stuck in.

And Cooper’s not one for generosity anymore, but he gives you credit a lot of the time. He knows he can be nasty, and you don’t mind one bit. In spite of his callousness and general disregard for safety, you put on a chipper attitude and tug him (sometimes physically) along to the next town.  Outwardly innocent but filled with a mutual hatred for Vault-Tec and what its influence had done to the world and yourself, you’d quickly become his diamond in the rough. 

And you shine particularly bright in the shack of a building the Wasteland called a saloon. You’ve made careful friends with a couple of gray-haired biddies- presumably the owners-  in the back of the room, and chat happily with them. Cooper sits off to the side behind you, a bottle of the local brew dangling between his fingers. He’s content for the first time in a while; ass in a creaky rocking chair and boots kicked up on an old milk crate. The brim of his hat is pulled down to hide the majority of his face, but eyes wander lazily from you to the front door. 

Cooper didn’t think many things were nice any longer, but listening to you prattle on with the women warmed something in his dead heart.

“You’re awfully pretty for this place.” The older of the two women, sporting a single eye and an impressively neat beehive style, compliments you. “Gotta be out of the Vaults with that skin.”

The Ghoul tenses, knowing the mention of your 200-year prison would strike a nerve. 

“Yeah. I’m from before the war, actually.” You say it plainly and chase it down with a swig of liquor. “Fuckin’ Vault-Tec.”

The Ghoul’s familiar with your story, from you finding out about the plan to drop homemade bombs on American citizens to your confrontation with the executive group in Vault 31. Little did you know, you’d be sneaking in with no chance for escape. Cooper tightens his fist at the thought of Hank MacLean shoving you carelessly into a cryopod and slamming the button to lock you in. You’d relayed the story to him with watery eyes, and that’s something he absolutely loathed. He had enough personal beef with Hank that your trauma added to his ever-growing list of things to be absolutely pissed-the-fuck-off about.

Finch and Sparrow, as they were so comically named, clutch their pearls in sadness as you tell your story. They fawn over you, and Cooper makes out a few ‘fuck them Vaulties’ and a ‘well as much as it sucks, we’re glad you made it this far’. You sniff just barely and wipe your eyes. 

“Thanks, ladies. It means a lot.” 

The conversation turns back pleasant for the most part, and you’re enthralled as the women pull you into the town gossip. Cooper begrudgingly gets up to piss, comfy as he was, but stops at your side to hand off his bag first. You take it with a nod, more interested in the rumor mill than his whereabouts for the moment. He swaggers to the back door of the saloon, where wind whips sand against his jeans and patters the leather of his boots with tiny rocks. 

Voices drift out the door from inside as Cooper yanks his zipper back up. 

“Is it true what they say ‘bout Vaulties?” It’s a man’s voice, gruff and demanding in comparison to the happy lilt of yours. “Heard your story and always been… curious.”

“If you listened, you would know I ain’t no Vaultie.” Your reply is instant, but the edge in your voice has Cooper stepping a little faster down the short hallway. He reemerges to the sight of a suspiciously dressed man leaning against the wood beam beside your table, a little too close for comfort. 

“Sure you are, darlin’. I can tell by lookin’ at’chya.” The man’s face is half-covered by a bandanna, and a pair of sand goggles are pushed up on his forehead, “Like they say.. everything’s… softer.”

There’s suddenly a hand landing on your shoulder, and Cooper sees red. His gun is pulled before he knows it, leveling at the man’s forehead. 

“Hands off the girl.” He growls. 

On closer inspection the man is probably close to the age you appear. Above the bandanna, weatherbeaten skin turns into frizzy ginger hair. He’s wearing a typical duster type coat, and the goggles are leaving red marks in his forehead. Cooper decides he’s taken shits more attractive than him. 

Probably smarter, too. 

“Fuck off, Ghoul.” Is the reply Cooper receives, sending  a flash of white-hot anger through his already irradiated body. “I wasn't talkin’ to you.”

It was all too common, being brushed off. At this point in his life, it actually brings a smirk to his face. Your mouth is even tipping up at the edges, having had many interactions with the can of worms this guy was prying open. 

“Listen man, I think you should let it go.” You warn and try to stand from the broken chair you had been carefully perching on. The red-head doesn’t relent, and pushes you back down into the chair. It wobbles dangerously as Cooper stomps closer. The movement prompts your captor to pull his own gun. It’s a crudely made pipe pistol, but able to shoot flying projectiles into your brains nonetheless.

“Get your goddamn hands off her before I decorate that wall with your fuckin’ skull.” Cooper yanks the hammer back on his pistol, hesitating at your close proximity.

The redhead pulls his bandanna down and Cooper watches you lean away as you recognize the scent and characteristics of a Fiend. His teeth are hanging loosely at crooked angles, and the pock marks around his mouth from scratching his skin open drip blood and serous fluid. His gun is trained on Cooper, but he freezes when he sees the Ghoul shift forward. 

“Ah ah ah. How’d you like me to put a bullet in her instead?” The Fiend tugs you to your feet and nuzzles at your hair as he presses the barrel of his gun to your ribs. “I’d love a taste myself.”

The suffocating need to keep you safe and at his side fills Cooper’s corroded veins as you scowl at the Fiend whose nose is pressed dangerously close to your cheek with rotten teeth bared. Rage ignites from the anger he’s already feeling. 

BANG. 

Cooper’s watching when the red spray of blood washes over half the saloon, but still doesn’t quite comprehend what’s happened. His gun didn’t fire, but the scent of ignited powder fills the air. You fall to the floor along with your captor, and the aforementioned rage boils over. He holsters his gun and scrambles to pull you away in the chaos.  

Thankfully, a quick once-over shows you to have no injuries, but the same can’t be said for your attacker. A foot away the Fiend lies still, about five pounds lighter from the gaping hole in his chest. Gore from his wound is splattered thick across your face and neck. Your eyes are pinched closed to avoid anything unsightly entering them, and you lash out blindly when Cooper grasps your arms. 

“Let me go, you rotten bastard!” The Ghoul catches your right hand before it can hook into his jaw, “I’ll kill you myself.”

“Quit squealin’ sunshine, it’s me.” Cooper growls

While he’s getting a handle on your flailing limbs, a shadow covers the both of you. Cooper glances up at the one-eyed old woman who’s sawed-off shotgun is still smoking in her left hand. 

“I know your brain is shrunken and all, but next time take the shot sooner.” She bites. “And feel free to clean up my damn bar.”

Cooper is torn between staring at the older woman- Sparrow, he thinks-  and trying to contain your squirming. He’s not too fragile to admit he really doesn’t want to take a punch from you right now, so he wipes the back of his hand across your eyes and tugs you to sit up beside him. 

“Cooper?”

He huffs a laugh at your incredulous tone and flicks away the remnants of blood littering your skin “The one and only. Open your eyes.”

They flicker open slowly, and you pout at the blood congealing on your clothes. “I just got these pants.”

Cooper sets a hand on your thigh and squeezes gently. “I’ll buy you a new pair. S’Long as you promise not to get Fiend all over those ones too.”

You thrust an elbow into his ribs at the jab and climb to your feet. Cooper follows with a dramatic groan. 

“Old man.” You tease over your shoulder, observing the carnage from Sparrow’s well-aimed shot. A kick to the corpses’ ribs follows, sending a splatter of blood across Cooper’s pants. You shoot him an insincerely apologetic look. “She’s right, you know.”

The Ghoul follows your gaze to Sparrow, who’s hollering at any remaining patrons that dare tread too close to the mess, damning them for tracking blood around the bar. 

“‘Bout what?” 

You lean into his space, the scent of blood thick in the air. “Take the damn shot sooner.”

Cooper grabs the back of your neck and yanks you forward in a hard kiss. The blood transfers easily onto his lips, and he licks it off while pulling away. “Fucker deserved more than one shot.”

Possessiveness floods his mind and he squeezes the soft flesh beneath his fingers. 

“I’da strung him up by his balls if I got my hands on him.” He mutters, tracing another finger through the blood and popping it into his mouth. “After grabbin’ onto you like that.”

You lean into his chest and let a smile curl the corners of your lips up. “All for little ol’ me?”

The Ghoul pinches your bloody cheek. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

-------------------

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

[kraftykelpie]

Originally a concept from "after the war" where Cody and Obi-Wan are discussing their long-term future goals, but it fits @codywancomfort as well!

I wrote fanfic in the tags so I had to rewrite it all here, below the cut! <3

“I've been thinking about what you said-” Cody makes an inquisitive noise in response, his eyes shut in bliss, rubbing circles into Obi-Wan's hip, his other hand playing with russet strands “-about children.”

Cody's eyes shoot open and his left hand stops in its motions, albeit briefly.

“I thought I wanted to take on another Padawan after Anakin, but I wonder if that emptiness was something I hadn't felt since Korkie, and-” he takes a breath. “- I miss that. I missed that with Korkie. That growth, watching that life form and become something of your own to watch grow into a fully recognized being of their own right.”

Cody takes a deep breath to avoid accidentally inhaling too sharply and choking on spit. He did that once after Obi-Wan winked at him on the bridge of the Negotiator. It was embarrassing.

He looks imploringly at Obi-Wan, letting Obi-Wan take his time getting his thoughts out. Cody doesn't need to add anything, Obi-Wan already knows about his ruminations about little cadets and wanting to raise one, no need to beat crumpled clankers about it.

“Darling, if you'll have me-”

He's cut off my Cody, honest to Karl, giggling and pulling Obi-Wan close. He buries his head in the crook of Obi-Wan's shoulder, while muffled, going,

“It'd be more strategically sound if we got married first though, don't y’think?” He presses a kiss into Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan chuckles at the phrasing as Cody moves to sit up.

It's spur of the moment, really. Anakin won't be pleased with his former master exchanging mandalorian marriage vows post-coitus; though Anakin isn't really allowed to judge is he? He got secretly married and didn't invite his master, so fair's fair, really.

The vows had been a long time coming, and it was a wonder that they hadn't said them sooner. Though, the ongoings of a Republic changed by war and internal corruption had made it difficult to get married, between one half of the pair working hard with the Jedi Order to try and restructure systems that should have been in place a long-time ago, and the other off championing Vodé rights delegations alongside Rex (who's leading the charge).

Now's as good a time as any.

Obi-Wan smiles up at Cody, and dryly posits “ suppose we should make it official before we go announcing pregnancies, hm?”

Cody, lit by the artificial Sun of Coruscant, looks down at Obi-Wan with all the reverence and heartfelt adoration of a patron to their god.

“That'd be a good idea”.

[frostbitebakery]

LOUD.

“It’s a,” and here Cody bites his lips, scratches the side of his nose.

“A?” Obi-Wan prompts gently. Keldabe Kiss doesn’t, objectively, sound too dirty. What’s in a name etc. but when Cody had said, if Obi-Wan is game, they could try something, Obi-Wan had kept his expectations open.

“It’s a headbutt,” Cody wrings out of himself after another few seconds.

On the list of things Obi-Wan had, after all, expected to some degree, this isn’t one of them. He keeps silent. “You want to give me a concussion?” He’s great at being silent, turns out. “Or vice versa?”

Cody is already shaking his head, foot gently shoving his helmet further away from them. “No! It’s a sign of affection…”

Only in the Mandalorian culture, Obi-Wan thinks fondly. “Explain it to me,” he signs, eyes crinkling despite himself.

Cody huffs, leans back against the wall behind his bunk. Most of his armor is stacked on its stand. The helmet on the floor near them because Cody had been fiddling with the antennas when he’d gripped it with both hands, stared at the visor, and asked if Obi-Wan knew what a Keldabe Kiss was.

Obi-Wan sits cross-legged in front of him, restless fingers playing with the starched to death blanket. The mask is on and he wishes it weren’t. The last engagement had knocked the air right out of his lungs when a Hyena-class suddenly dropped down on them and delivered proton bombs on mass. He ended up gasping and on his back after the action was over, so for now the mask stays on.

Cody adjusts the hem on the t-shirt he’s wearing, the bandage no longer peeking out when he’s done. “I’m stalling.”

“I noticed,” Obi-Wan signs back, knocks his shin against Cody’s and lets it rest there.

“Growing up,” Cody begins after a few long moments where he’s watched their legs touch, “we’d sometimes see the Template put his forehead against Boba’s. Gently,” he adds, crooked smile for Obi-Wan’s concussion related fears. His voice turns wistful and Obi-Wan’s heart aches. “We didn’t— most of us didn’t want to be in his place. The Template hadn’t been popular with the clones long before he rejected us. But something about that gesture…”

The gentleness of it in contrast to the cold, neutral environment they’d been growing up in. The obvious affection of it had been calling them. One of the trainers had let it drop what it was named. And over time they had been able to put together a definition.

“You headbutt your enemy to get out of close quarters engagement,” Cody explains. “You have to be aware how you hit them so you don’t injure yourself while inflicting the maximum amount of damage to your opponent.”

“Is that why your nose is a bit,” Obi-Wan signs, pointing at the crook of his own nose just above the mask.

“Wolffe’s head is harder than his bucket,” Cody mutters, thumb stroking over Obi-Wan’s ankle absently.

The other definition, the one the clones had mostly embraced, the one that brought warmth and solidarity into their midst when no one else provided it, that one was based on affection. Clacking your helmets together after the heat of a battle, a job well done. Bringing your foreheads together to be there, to mourn together, to show the other isn’t alone. To remind the other they’re loved.

“It’s also a proxy for a kiss,” Cody explains, color high in his cheeks which makes Obi-Wan’s heart squirm in his chest. They’ve had sex a few possible and impossible ways and yet Cody is blushing over explaining a kiss. It’s sweet and touching and— “You can’t kiss when you wear buckets,” Cody says, “and sometimes you can’t kiss at all for various reasons. So it’s— it’s a kiss by proxy,” he ends, shrugging helplessly and aborted.

Obi-Wan waits as the question builds up inside Cody, firming the strokes of his thumb, the determination in his spine. He waits while Cody is stealing his breath.

“Can I kiss you?”

[blueberry-ry]

° Mandalorian Flowers and their meanings °

Ka’ky’ram (Stars of Death)

The name comes from the fusion of the words Ka’ra (stars) and Ky’ram (death). They are the flowers most used during funerary rites, and are named as such because of their resemblas to the stars, and because they grow into huge groups of bushes, with their leaves being a dark green, giving the illusions of a starry night in the dark sky. They are the symbol of a promise, for the now dead warrior to be reunited to their ancestors, and that one day them and the living will meet again up there, accross the stars.

Kar’taylir (To Hold in one’s Heart)

The name comes from the fusion of the words Kar’ta (heart) and Taylir (to preserve). This is the flower that most often is born on old battlefields, giving life back to a place of death. They are a symbol of remembrance, to preserve and hold in one’s heart all those that came before them, fought for them and died for them. To keep their memory and fights alive even in death, by growing where their blood as been shed. Some superstitions also say they get their color from the blood of the fallens that waters the earth.

Yust’oya’nau (Road Lighter to Life)

The name is the union of the words Yust (road/path), Oya (life) and Nau (light). The full name Yust’oya’nau is used more often in poems or songs, while most mandos, when talking about them, either shorten the name to Yu’nau (road lighter) or St’oya (road to life). Alongside the Eed’mavan, this flower is one of the most common ones, and they are often used together by children to create flower crowns! Thanks to their mostly orange appearance, and the fact they are so common, they are believed to be a constant reminder from the Manda of the beauty of life, of how it’s right in front of you at all times and to fight for it and reach for it every single day, to refuse to die and stubbornly keep going against all odds. To survive and live on.

Eed’mavan (Teeth of Freedom)

The name comes from the union of the words Eed (teeth) and Mavan (freedom). The name appears strange at first, but its full meaning gives a clear explanation: freedom, a gift always taken for granted, can be actually taken away in an instant, and to get it back, to maintain it, one needs to fight for it, even with their teeth and their claws, because no one has to dare to take away the freedom of a Mandalorian without expecting them to fight back.

Cin’aak (White Peace)

The name comes from the fusion of the word Cin (white) and Naak (peace). They are all different flowers, but they all share the name and the meaning, due to them often being used in the same flower crowns. These flowers are often considered fragile or useless, that are going to die as soon as oneforgets about them for even a day, because they are just like peace, compassion, faith and hope, they need to be cured and cultivated every single day, because none of these things can be taken for granted to survive on its own, none of them are easy to maintain and achieve. And yet, in the end the effort to keep them alive is always worth it, even if they live for only an extra day, even if they die and you have to try all over again, that effort, that new chance is always worth it, no matter the price.

@kara-akaane @astranite and @getal-the-twilek thank you very much for helping me out in figuring out this list!!

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 31st

Day 31: FREE FOR ALL

Mando x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Breeding ceremony, voyeurism, public sex, helmet stays on, aphrodisiac, breeding kink, breast play, multiple rounds, cream pie

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Din! Din! Din!” The screams of pleasure echo throughout the halls, the rubble cleared and the forge once more lit. Mandalore is inhabited by Mandalorians again and now, new life is being conceived. 

Visors and eyes are fixed on the dias, the platform providing a unique view of the bed that has been placed there for this purpose specifically. Watching as your body writhes and shakes.

Your vision is hazy, clouded with lust and all you can see is the flash of beskar on his helmet as you bounce on his cock. The thick length feeling like he is pushed up into your throat while you rock on him. The jorgon juice that you had both drank before the ceremony making it hard to stop even though you have cum multiple times already. Your cunt leaking with his spend from countless orgasms. 

****

“Din Djarin.” You turn your head, hearing his name being called and nerves flutter in your stomach. No one can see it, it doesn’t show on the expressionless visor of your helmet, but you are barely resisting the urge to fidget. 

Watching as the Mandalorian in question pauses for a moment, as if he is surprised that his name was the one called before he steps forward towards the dias and where the Armorer stands beside you. 

You swallow, watching his long legged gait as he stalks with determination towards you. It’s a swagger in his steps, even though he always denies it when called on it. Everyone can see it, it’s ingrained in him from his years as a bounty hunter. His accomplishments marked by his fame in the parsec, the Outer Rim whispers of fear and awe. He is the mandalorian. 

Once he is in front of the Armorer, his armor nearly glittering in the flames of the forge, you hear her speak your name, the sound of it echoing through the great hall of Mandalore. “-has chosen you as her donor.” 

The crowd, helmeted and unhelmeted alike, start to beat their fists over the heart of their chest plates. The loud sound reverberated around the room. “Haav! Haav! Haav! Haav!” They start to chant, the word is quiet at the beginning and then starting to lift above the pounding of their fists, the approval of the crowd apparent when no one challenges it. The entire gathering shouting for the two of you to make your way to the bed on the dias. 

This is his chance to reject you. To melt back into the crowd and refuse the honor that you have ultimately bestowed upon him. You shiver slightly, although you seem to be the very picture of poise, statue still in your armor that will soon be stripped from your body. 

Din tilts his head slightly, his visor fixed on you and you can feel his eyes watching, gauging. The orange tips of his gloves flex at his side slightly and he twists back to look at the clan of Mandalorians that have now made this once abandoned planet home again. Breathing new life into the Creed that has all but been wiped clean of the galaxy by the former Empire. Hoping to grow your ranks and raise warriors. 

“I accept.” The clanging stops instantly, the shouting that echoes through the halls quiets. No one moves as Din steps forward again. “I accept.” He repeats, louder this time. 

The Armorer nods, motioning behind her and a tray with a cup is brought forward. “To aid you on your mission.” She hums as she picks up the chalice. 

You know that the helmet will stay on. It must, for his and your Creeds to remain intact. The ones who remove their helmets now understand why you keep your faces covered and no longer ridicule you for it. Both sects of Mandalore now coexist together for the good of your clans. 

When it’s offered to you, you take the chalice, lifting the bottom of your helmet and taking a sip of the slightly bitter, sweet drink. The tang of it laying heavy on your tongue and immediately heating up your body as it slides down your throat. 

Handing it to Din, you groan softly as he hooks his fingers under the edge of the helmet. Exposing just a bare inch of his throat, giving you a glimpse of his skin. The bulb of his Adam’s apple, the scattering of some facial hair, brown in color against the light tan of his flesh. 

You will create a child with this man. Not knowing the color of his eyes or the curve of his nose. You will take his cock, his seed, inside you and pray to the Creed that it takes root. That he plants a warrior in your belly to grow and birth. 

He swallows a mouthful of the liquid, groaning as he lowers the cup. Allowing the Armorer to take it from him. He reaches for the weapons belt at his hips and unclips it, handing his blaster to the Armorer to hold onto. Entrusting his weapons to her. 

Heat flares in your core, feeling the slickness starting to gather between your thighs as the juice starts to work. Biting your lip under your helmet when your fingers start to strip off your gloves to reveal your hands. 

Din hisses, his visor fixed on you, standing with his legs braced apart, you can see that his cock is starting to tent the fabric of his flight suit. Magically, assistance appears. Dozens of hands slowly and ceremonially strip the armor from his body and yours. The elders respectfully set aside the beskar, until the two of you are standing bare except for your helmets. 

His cock is heavy, stiff as it juts up from his groin and you lick your lips in anticipation. You have taken cocks before, but you are eager to feel him inside you. Pressing your thighs together as he reaches for you. 

Din cups your tits, fingers twitching and his moan is breathless under his helmet. Making you wonder when was the last time he touched someone without his gloves on. Seemingly overwhelmed as he rolls your nipples between his fingers and tugs on them to make you gasp his name quietly. 

He chuckles, the low sound almost cut off from the modulator. “You chose me, cyar’ika.” He reminds you, teasing and toying with your breasts as the crowd watches silently. Witnessing your coupling. “These tits will nourish our ad. Make them strong and healthy.”

Din normally doesn’t speak much, but now he seems to say everything that rolls through his mind, the jorgon juice lowering his defenses, relaxing him even as it makes him harder than a rock. 

“I did.” You nod, reaching out and wrapping your fingers around his length and making him hiss your name, immediately thrusting his hips forward into your grip. “This cock will plant a warrior in my belly and I will grow round with a child.” 

The voyeurism of the moment isn’t lost on you. The silence is poignant as heads turn, watching where you both fall to the bed. Witnessing the way that you straddle this mandalorian’s waist and start to sink down on his length, your cunt taking him with a low groan from both of you. 

You need a moment, panting softly as he stretches you out, his hands on your hips in a bruising grip. His own sounds come through his modulator and you wish for a moment that you could see his face. To see if it is twisting in pleasure like your own is. 

****

“Gon-gonna fill you up.” Din hisses, his hips rocking up with jerky thrusts, pushed deeper inside your tight walls. “Breed you.” 

Your eyes roll back, fingers digging into his chest where they are propped. “Yessss.” You whine. “Fill me up. Want it, want you to breed me. Breed me, Din” 

“Warriors.” He grunts, bracing his feet on the bed to thrust up harder. His hands pulling your body down. “You’ll give birth to warriors. My warriors.”

Your walls clench down around him, cunt spasming at the gravelly proclamation. It’s what you desperately want. To raise warriors for the survival of your religion. Your head tilts back, chest pushed out to display your tits as you start to cum again. Crying out loudly again, feeling him starting to take over the pace as he rocks his hips up. 

Din’s hands hold tight to your waist, his visor fixed on yours and you feel the way that his body is tensing, even as you shake on top of him. He’s about to cum once more. The bed beneath you is soaked in your juices and his cum, both of you sweaty and breathless. He lurches up, rolling you onto your back and he starts to hammer into you. Stealing your ability to cry out as you take his desperate thrusts. 

Stiffening, Din roars out a shout, cock twitching against your cervix as he paints your womb with his seed. Cumming in wave after hot wave as he grinds deep, pushing deeper into your body as if to plant it directly into your egg. 

This time, hours after the juice has been drunk and your bodies stripped of your armor, you no longer feel the need to continue. Din collapses on top of you, his helmet buried against your neck as he pants breathless. The slow, muted clap of gloved hands starts. One, two, three, on and on as the two of you lay together. If you were to look over his shoulder, you would see one hundred Mandalorians clapping, their applause starting to build in the chamber and ring out through the halls. Hopefully filling all of Mandalore with their hopeful cadence. Gifting you with their wishes that your union will result in warriors to wear beskar and walk The Way. 

[david-talks-sw]

The OTHER type of Star Wars fan

We've already covered (through this longer post and this addendum) that research shows George wasn't that involved or interested in the derivative material of the Star Wars franchise, also known as the Expanded Universe (EU). Aside from approving a few points, he let Howard Roffman and Lucasfilm Licensing handle it.

He is the first to say that he ain't as knowledgeable about Star Wars lore as we fans are.

Thing is... he's also not as passionate as we are.

Recently, I was watching some Q&A videos of George R.R. Martin, the author of Game of Thrones... and it occurred to me:

Martin is what most Star Wars fans wish Lucas was.

Think about it.

He's a talented writer who likes to focus on morally "gray" characters and complex political plotlines,

who created a series of novels for a mature audience in which his narrative merely asks questions and lets the reader draw their own conclusions,

knows and engages in the lore behind his creation and will often respond to those lore-heavy questions, and has gone on record stating that canon is the glue that holds a story together and keeps it coherent.

Contrast that with George "continuity is for wimps" Lucas, who:

Wrote a movie franchise which is also, partially, political... but he makes it for kids, and he's explicit about how this is thematically a clear-cut story about how the conflict of "good vs evil" is really about "compassion vs greed",

with flat dialogue, boring cinematography,

and whose approach to lore and canon can be summed up in his answer to how Anakin got his scar:

"I don't know. Ask Howard [Roffman]. That’s one of those things that happens in the novels between the movies. I just put it there. He has to explain how it got there. I think Anakin got it slipping in the bathtub, but of course, he's not going to tell anybody that." - Pablo Hidalgo’s set diary, August 2003

And as a Star Wars fan, I will admit that some of his casual retcons felt disrespectful, growing up.

"Boba Fett is NOT Mandalorian?!"

I had the same reaction when I saw an interview of Kathleen Kennedy stating she was a fan of Star Wars... from a filmmaking perspective. That seemed like such a finagling cop-out for me, at the time.

"Just say you're not a real fan, God!"

And it's easy to divide it in two camps, like that. You have 1) the real fans, who will delve into deep lore, and 2) the average moviegoer, also known as the "filthy casuals."

But looking back on it... holy shit, that is actually a completely valid way of being a Star Wars fan.

Yes, Star Wars is a transmedia franchise, it's books, it's video-games, it's deep lore, it's lightsabers and Jedi and Sith and bounty hunters and Ewoks and Jabba and High Republics and Tython and Revan etc.

But before it was that, Star Wars was a filmmaking revolution. A juggernaut of innovation for the silver screen that inspired most of today's filmmakers.

So, sure, George Lucas isn't an avid lore-loving Star Wars fan like you and me. But he is a movie fan.

"I'm not that passionate about this story. I like it, it's fun and I enjoy doing it. But it's definitely not my life. I'm a bigger movie fan than I am Star Wars fan. I like making movies. At the end of nine years of making Star Wars, I was not ready to continue it. I was completely burned out on it. I was more passionate about raising my kids than making movies and especially making Star Wars. So I made other kinds of movies and TV shows and advanced the technology I needed. It's not a matter of passion. My passion is for filmmaking. I'll go and do filmmaking that is easier to do, where you can realise your ideas better. And nine years is a big part of your life, and to commit to another nine years, I didn't wanna do that right away." - EMPIRE, 1999

And you can tell this, when you watch the Star Wars films.

There are honestly so many homages and interesting filmmaking techniques, peppered throughout the six films, which only a nerd for cinema history like George would know how to implement.

C3-PO being based on the droid from Metropolis (1927) is a perfect example of this.

And that's interesting.

Because there's essentially this entire other dimension to the films, where it's not just the story unfolding, but to filmmakers it's also a series of techniques that make them go "I wonder how they did that!" or homages that make them go "OH! I know where that's from!" like we do when an comics characters appears in live-action.

Here's other examples:

CINEMA HOMAGES

All of Star Wars is absolutely littered with homages to cinema history.

I mean, you may already know this, but Flash Gordon is what George originally wanted to shoot, but the copyright holders said they only wanted Fellini to direct it (ironically, George wasn't artsy-fart enough for them). So he decided to write Star Wars instead.

As such, the inspiration from Flash Gordon is also present visually and spiritually throughout the two trilogies.

"It was like a Republic serial, a 1930s-style matinee adventure. The idea was that you came in, saw Episode IV, had missed the first three episodes, and wouldn't get to see the rest of it." - Starlog Magazine #300, 2002

The dialogue that a lot of people refer to as "campy" and "flat" is actually a mix of George being an experimental filmmaker who doesn't give much of a fuck about dialogue (and is by his own admission, not the best at it)...

"I'd be the first person to say I can't write dialogue. My dialogue is very utilitarian and is designed to move things forward. I'm not Shakespeare. It's not designed to be poetic. It's not designed to have a clever turn of phrase. [...] I just wanted to get from point A to point B. This film doesn't lend itself to that sort of thing because it's not about snappy one-liners.  I think that Lethal Weapon-style dialogue is overused, it's a necessary aspect of high action films where you have to have the smart retort. You have to say "I'll be back baby" and stuff. It's not my style. It takes away from the integrity of the movie. [...] I'm aware that dialogue isn't my strength. I use it as a device. I don't particularly like dialogue which is part of the problem." - EMPIRE, 1999

... which is convenient, because it helped him simulate the dialogue of 1930s matinee serials, such as Flash Gordon.

"Let’s face it, their dialogue in that scene is pretty corny. It is presented very honestly, it isn’t tongue in cheek at all, and it’s played to the hilt. But it is consistent, not only with the rest of the movie, but with the overall Star Wars style. Most people don’t understand the style of Star Wars. They don’t get that there is an underlying motif that is very much like a 1930s Western or Saturday matinee serial. It’s in the more romantic period of making movies and adventure films. And this film is even more of a melodrama than the others." - Mythmaking: Behind the Scenes of Attack of the Clones, 2002

But beyond that, literally it's everywhere.

The scene where Palpatine ascends to being Emperor as Anakin slaughters his political rivals parallels the final scene in The Godfather, where Michael becomes the Don while his goons do the same thing.

This video compiles all the tributes beautifully. Check it out.

Even The Clone Wars has whole episodes that are direct homages to cult classics. The Zillo Beast episode is a clear reference to Godzilla, the episode The Wrong Jedi is inspired by The Wrong Man, etc.

"CINEMA VÉRITÉ" CINEMATOGRAPHY

I've already written a whole post (one of my favourites) showing how his fascination with cinéma vérité documentaries is reflected in the cinematography of all six Star Wars films, and it's part of what makes the entire franchise feel so immersive.

You can check it out here:

KUROSAWA

We've gone over how he's a big fan of Akira Kurosawa, and how big an influence Hidden Fortress was on both the Star Wars trilogies...

... but so is the mise-en-scène and the way George approaches production design. The reason Star Wars feels so "lived in" is also a lesson George learned from Kurosawa, which is that by making everything just a bit off-kilter, a bit dirtied-up and imperfect...

... and yet keeping it all consistent, in a way, you manage to make the film feel grounded and immersive, no matter how alien it is.

"[It] may sound odd in a movie like this, but credibility and realism, even in the most unrealistic situation… to sorta create that sense of realism is very important to making the story work and making you feel like you’re actually in the environment that transports you and gives you the suspension of disbelief that you need in order to enjoy a movie. [...] Kurosawa used to call it “immaculate realism” which is to make it slightly off-kilter, slightly eccentric, like things are in real life. Even if it’s a very predictable situation, give it that little funny edge that takes it away from that and makes it realistic. And I had to struggle very hard, in the Star Wars films, to make them appear to be realistic, even though they’re totally fantasy." - The Phantom Menace, Commentary Track #2, 1999

POST-PRODUCTION & VFX

Another one of the more impressive aspects of the first Star Wars was the dogfights and the trench raid of the Death Star. The camera pans with the spaceship, the dynamism of the cuts. The space battles is what made George creat ILM in the first place.

He was determined to do the opposite of what 2001: A Space Odyssey had done with that opening scene where the space ship moves into frame slooooowly...

... so he gave the team a collection of WWII dogfight footage to give them ideas.

(note: this was the same approach he would take years later with Dave Filoni, when teaching the latter how to edit and craft dogfights in The Clone Wars)

The attempt to film the trench run eventually led to the creation of the first motion control camera dolly.

Best analogy I can think of, when describing George's approach to Star Wars, is the following:

An avant-garde esoteric contemporary artist - y'know, the type who puts a blue dot on a white canvas and calls it art - creates a comic.

Why? Because he wants to make this one art installment for a gallery exhibition. After that, he intends to move on to other things.

But the comic is really good! And like, its audience quickly expands beyond just gallery visitors, no, everyone likes it.

Suddenly, the comic develops a cult following, and the entirety of comic book geek culture has zeroed-in on the artist and they're all asking him to make more art! And he makes more! And more!

Then he stops for two decades, moves on to other art projects, raises his kids. Years later, he discovers new ways of drawing, and he's like "I'm making a Prequel to the comic, y'all wanna see it?"

Everyone cries out gleefully: "Oh God, yes! Finally! Show us!"

But this motherfucker makes a manga.

Why? Because he feels like it.

And of course he does, he's just creating art, right? He discovered the graphic tablet, so he's having fun with it, because he's always innovating and pushing the envelope with his art.

And the books are fine, by manga standards. But by comic book standards, they obviously suck! The comic book audience is mad. They wanted another comic book, not a manga. Why is it in black and white? Why is read right-to-left? This comic is crap!

(And arguably, they have a point... as a savvy businessman, he's made a whole lot of money off this comic, he built a media empire out of it, and instead of giving them what they want, he made something else)

But again... this guy isn't a comic book illustrator, and has been very explicit about saying this.

He's an artist who - for a very specific project - drew a comic.

Many things can be true at once:

the fact that these creative decisions didn't always hit their mark for the average moviegoer, or fans of "Star Wars, the space fantasy movies and expanded universe" (usually the lore-loving geeks like myself)...

... and the fact that they were meticulously and carefully crafted in a way that fans of "Star Wars, the revolutionary film" (aka fans of cinema and filmmaking) can appreciate.

There's a spectrum of the fandom, and there is a spectrum in the way we can appreciate Star Wars. Which kinda reminds me of that scene in Chef (2014) where Carl goes on a rant explaining the intricacies of making his chocolate lava cake to a food critic.

It's not just undercooked chocolate. It's molten.

Conversely:

It's not just flat, campy dialogue. It's an homage to the 1930s matinee serials à la Flash Gordon.

It's not just boring cinematography. It's a reproduction of cinéma vérité documentary-style camera work which effectively grounds the film.

Having considered all this, when I hear that Tony Gilroy or Kathleen Kennedy were more fans of Star Wars from a "cinema studies" side rather than the typical pop culture one, I think it's fair enough.

First of all, because like it or not, so was George. He clearly didn't give a single crap about the offshoot comics and books and their lore, besides signing off on minor plot points. He's not a "sci-fi movie director", he's an experimental filmmaker who set some of his movies in space.

But secondly, because - aside from children - it's clear the audience he was targeting was not the fans or the critics... but these very same cinema-savvy people, who get his references and homages, and who were inspired by the new filmmaking techniques he introduced.

[dindjarindiaries]

can you do “No, I-I’m okay. It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.” and “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here for you if you’ll just let me in.” for din pretty please??? thank you so much! 💘

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: “No, I-I’m okay. It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep.” and “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m right here for you if you’ll just let me in.”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You were still getting used to sharing Din's bed, which made you even more confused when you woke in the middle of the night and realized he was no longer beside you. Blinking into the darkness of the ship compartment that served as his makeshift bedroom made it even more disorienting. After a few heartbeats, however, you could make out a silhouette at the end of the cot—one without a helmet.

This was the closest you would get to seeing his face for a long time, until he was ready to let you in all the way. Considering the fact his shoulders were heaving and a hand was carding through his hair, you were still somewhat on the outside of his heavily protected heart.

But you took no offense. Instead, you remained as patient as you had been with him these last few months. You sat up and made your way to where he was, gently wrapping your arms around him from behind so as to avoid scaring him. Your lips spread into a smile when he relaxed underneath your touch.

Your chin rested on his shoulder as you whispered to him. "It's a bit early for you to be up."

Din huffed and turned his head towards you. "Yeah, you too." The sound of his voice without his modulator still made your stomach burst with the sweetest kind of butterflies.

But the way it shook when he spoke was new.

You furrowed your brow and ran soothing circles over his middle with your nails. "What is it?"

Din swung his head away from you, and you could hear the hard swallow he took. Your entire body tensed with fierce anxiety as you slowly started to pull yourself away from him. You began to recount everything you had done as the two of you had fallen asleep that night.

"Did something happen?"

Din held your hands to keep you in place. "No, I... " He threaded his fingers through yours. You relaxed with him. "I’m okay." Din shook his head as if he was attempting to dispel a bad thought from it. "It was just a nightmare." He gave your hands a gentle squeeze. "Go back to sleep."

You frowned. "I'm sorry." Your voice was as soft as the kiss you placed upon his shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Din hesitated, but he ultimately shook his head again. "No, that's okay."

You exhaled a breath. It was another moment where you would have to debate gently pushing him to lower his guard or waiting it out. The way his hands trembled over yours, however, made the decision for you. "You don’t have to go through this alone." You ran your thumbs over his the best you could manage. "I’m right here for you if you’ll just let me in."

Din began to knead his hands against yours, as if the movement was subconscious. Your chest ached, but you remained strong for him, supplying another kiss to his shoulder in the silence. Eventually, he nodded, taking a deep breath that caused you to move with him. "I can try."

You smiled and pressed your cheek against his back, being sure to keep his face concealed from view. "Only if you're comfortable."

"I am." The reassurance was quick. It only made your smile grow more. The longer his silence went on, the more that smile began to fade. "I..." Din's jaw circled. "I still have dreams about my childhood."

You hummed, acknowledging his words while giving him the proper silence to continue.

"But, this time, it wasn't just them." You didn't have to ask who "they" were. He had opened up enough about his childhood for you to know. "It was you, too."

You closed your eyes in sympathy for him. "Me?"

Din nodded. He adjusted his grip on your hands, tightening it without hurting you. "I know a dream is just a dream." He sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "But it felt so real."

"I understand." You drew him in closer. "Dreams can be very vivid."

Din nodded again. "I won't let this be real, though." He raised your entwined hands to his lips to set a kiss over your knuckles. "I promise."

You lifted your chin back to his shoulder. "I know. Thank you for protecting me." You gestured with your head to the rest of the cot behind you. "But I can protect you, too."

You closed your eyes when Din instinctively turned his face towards you. "What do you mean?"

You unraveled your arms from him and held one of his hands, guiding him back onto the cot. As you encouraged him to lean back and lay down, you held him close, inviting his head into your chest and securing it in place with a hand in his hair. "I can't make the dreams stop." You kissed his head. "But I'll always be here for you to hold onto, to remind you that they're nothing more than dreams."

Din had already relaxed into you, his voice as soft as ever as he spoke. "Thank you."

You smiled again. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just grateful that you're letting me in."

"You make it easy for me."

din djarin tag list: @yorksgirl @zenrobbins0021 @cyaredindjarin @cw80831 @maddiedrmr @pigeonmama

[jake-g-lockley]

Hiya :3

I’ve never done a request before so I thought it might be fun

Maybe you could write a Din Djarin short where the reader had to intervene in a fight on his behalf and Din is furious because the reader could have been killed and lashed out causing the reader to run off and he’s been looking for them ever since?

Also they haven’t admitted that they have feelings for each other yet so there’s another scoop of angst for ya hahaha

To Their Heart’s Content (Din Djarin x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist | Wanna be tagged?

A/N: *crack knuckles* MISS MA'AM I HAVE JUST THE THING OMG. I hope you like it <3 and thank you for the ask, I had fun writing this!!! Warnings: Angst, yelling, Din being Din. Word Count: 1.4k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Din’s POV “Din, you do not give babies explosives unsupervised!” you squealed as you grabbed onto the explosive that Grogu had been proudly showing off to you. 

Once you had set the explosive safely aside, you giggled as you chased Grogu around the ship’s hull, laughing aloud as you tackled the child into your arms. 

The memory of your laugh pulled Din Djarin away from the focus of flying through the dizzying depths of space. Nothing had sounded closer to music to his ears. But now it was just a distant memory, a memory that he had been trying to chase. 

You had always been the chatty one, and he had always listened to you. He could spend hours listening to your talk about the most random thing, and you wouldn’t know that he also spent those hours staring into your eyes. 

Your gaze was always sharp, as if you had lined your eyes with glass instead of dark kohl. They sparkled with irresistible charm, glowing brightly whenever you star gazed while he flew the ship. Din would feel his skin grow hot wherever you would glance, not in pain or agony but as if he was being bathed by warm sunlight. You were like a cup of caf, the first taste always being bitter. But when you came around to him, your boldness and brightness took over his entire senses, kickstarting a whole new beginning for him. You had a fullness in your body and a richness in your soul that drew him towards you, almost connecting you to him.

“Don’t go too far, kar'ta!” Din yelled out before he could stop himself as he watched you and Grogu skip through the meadow. You had seen the meadow as Din flew above it and you insisted on flying down, to pick some flowers to make flower crowns. The second he touched down, you had flipped your extra long curls and a beautiful scent of nova lilies flooded all his senses, knocking him out cold. 

Kar'ta

Din doubted you understood what he called you. You’d give him a head tilt and smile at his sudden use of Mando’a. He couldn’t help himself, for you were his kar'ta, his heart. It was at that moment, when he watched as you picked his kid up and spun him around, where the doom settled at the pit of his stomach, and he knew that he couldn’t live without you. 

The scene in his mind drastically changed and blaster shots echoed in his head as the imagery of the wreaked marketplace appeared. Din had been fighting 5 to 1 and was already kneeling in pain from the poisoned cut. You lept in front of him, and Din yelled out as the enemy’s blade slashed a cut into your arm. Din heard you scream as his world plunged into darkness. 

The scene changes again and Din is knocking away a bowl of porridge that you had offered to him the second he had come to. 

“Din, I-”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” he yelled through his helmet, barricading you with his large frame.

“I knew what I was doing!” you yelled back, pushing your hands at his armour but he didn’t budge an inch. “You could’ve been dead if I didn’t step in! Who do you think dragged you all the way back here?”

The Mandalorian went quiet, but you stared at him through his helmet, glowering at him as tears flowed from your beautiful eyes. 

“I. Don’t. Care. Next time, stay out of my way.” he huffed, turning away from you.

“There isn’t going to be a next time, Mandalorian.” 

Your words rang clear in Din’s head as time froze around him, except for the frantic movement of your body around the hull of his ship, grabbing at your belongings. You left that night and Din was hellbent in wanting to go and search for you but he couldn’t move a muscle. His pride overtook the feelings he had for you and he couldn’t go after you, not after how he treated you.

The kid’s soft whining brought Din back to the present and he unscrewed the metal ball off one of the levers and handed it to him

“Don’t worry, little one, we almost found her.” he said softly, rubbing Grogu’s head as he gazed at the planet before him

Your POV

You rubbed the pendant around the neck between your fingers as you breathed in the fresh air around you. As evening approaches, the lake mirrors the fiery colours of the sunset, transforming into a molten pool of oranges, pinks, and purples that blend seamlessly with the twilight sky. Your chickens cooed and you smiled at them before shutting your eyes and letting your memories overpower you. 

You missed your mystery Mandalorian, you dreamed of him and recently you had his voice in your head. You wanted to go back, and you wished you didn’t make such a harsh decision to leave him, to leave Grogu. You hugged yourself as the wind blew gently and you swayed, re-imagining that one day that Din had gained the courage to slow dance with you in a bar after you teased him a bunch. “Big man like you never danced with a lady before?” you chuckled as Din’s hand gripped yours a little tighter. “Never with a lady as annoying as you.” he huffed, his nerves pulling at his edges, but you smiled at him nevertheless.

You never knew what he hid under that helmet of his and you never asked because he never pried into your past either. As much as you tried to bury those memories deep down, they always clawed their way back to the surface, haunting your thoughts in the quietest moments. The ache in your chest seemed insatiable, a constant reminder of what once was and what could have been. You found yourself tracing his silhouette in the crowd, hoping against hope for a glimpse, only to recoil at the pain of realisation.

Each day felt like a battle against your own heart, struggling to resist the urge to reach out, to feel the warmth of his presence beside you. The weight of unspoken words hung heavy between you, a silent testament to the distance that had grown. You yearned to break the silence, to shatter the wall that kept you apart, yet fear gripped you tightly, whispering tales of rejection and loss.

In the solitude of sleepless nights, memories played like a relentless movie reel, tormenting you with what could have been said, what might have changed if only you had been brave enough. The ache became a part of you, a raw, tender spot that refused to heal. You masked your longing with a smile, but behind it lay a river of unshed tears, a testament to the depth of your unspoken emotions.

You wanted nothing more than to forget, to move on from the phantom of his touch and the echo of his voice in your mind. Yet, his presence lingered in every corner of your world, a ghost you couldn't exorcise. Each step forward felt like a betrayal of the memories you held dear, a struggle against the pull of a love that refused to fade.

But amidst the pain and longing, a glimmer of hope flickered—a hope that one day, the ache would soften, that you could remember without the sting, that you could find peace in letting go. Until then, you held onto the fragments of what once was, whispering silent prayers to the universe to grant you the strength to heal, to forgive, and to find solace in the sweet agony of a heart that dared to love deeply, despite the pain.

You wished you held your awkward Mandalorian a little tighter, a little longer after the music ended, but here you were standing by your cottage as the air became cool and fragrant with the scent of wildflowers that lulls the world into a peaceful slumber, all alone. “Swapped out the battle armour for chickens, kar'ta?”

You took a deep breath and felt your own heart quicken, the voice reverberating around you too sound for it to be coming from your head. A tear slipped from your eyes as you closed them, your heart finally joining with its lost one as the sound of heavy boots on dirt met your ears. 

Translation: Kar'ta: Mando’a for heart

Kohl: Ancient eye cosmetic

Reblogs are appreciated ~~~ Tagging: @fandxmslxt69 @joygirlmelii @wolfbook87 @randomnessfangirl @minigirl87 @alexxavicry @euphoricosmo @violet-19999 @kierramofficial @ryebreadsworld @your-voice-is-mellifluous @absolutelybloodyhopeless @mintpurplemnm  @britishscum @bubblezuku @cookielovesbook-akie @mandoloriancookie @anonymously35 @milly-louise @marylovesdilfs @pigeonmama

[twilights-stuff]

So remember that Star Wars x Gravity Falls Au post I did a while back? So I decided to go back to it and create some doodles for the au. Problem is I haven't finished them considering I put way too much effort on Stan's mando armor. I'm yet to finish Ford too so that's something I'll dive into next. Can't wait to share those doodles in the future!

Also changes to the lore of this au:

• Stan and Ford are born on a tropical beach planet (still deciding what) and were separated at 14 (same age as Dipper and Mabel in this au) (I know Jedi usually take Force-sensitive kids at a younger age but I'm gonna bend canon a bit on this one)

• Stan was sold to slavery by his own father in order to pay off his debts in gambling shortly after Ford left and after their mother died.

• Stan was then brought to Tatooine where he would later be bought out of slavery by a Mandalorian belonging to the "Children of the Watch" cult, who then took Stan under his wing and trained him to become a Mandalorian.

• After growing up and swearing the Creed, Stan would later get kicked out by his cult and get consequently kicked out by other Mandalorian factions that he would later come to join in the future before obtaining his own ship and crew (Wendy and Soos) and becoming a bounty hunter whose also keen on gambling.

• This all happened before the rise of the Galactic Empire.

• Meanwhile, Ford would be trained under Bill Cipher and would eventually succeed his Padawan trials and become a Jedi Knight, even having his own padawan (Fiddleford) in the process.

• Unbeknownst to Ford, his master was secretly working along side Sidious and Tarkin in order to bring about the fall of the Jedi Order and the Republic.

• Set to be killed by his former master during Order 66, he and Fiddleford tried to save as many Jedi as they can but was forced to run away in an effort to escape, unfortunately leaving his padawan and the rest of the surviving Jedi to fend for themselves.

• He would later be caught by Bill and would be forced to train to become an Inquisitor, even go through a series of torture designed to break him and turn him into a shell of his former self.

• Ford would then escape and hide from the Empire before joining and aiding the Rebellion from time to time. As he helped the Rebels, he also made it his mission to take down Bill and the Inquisitors.

• On the other hand, after learning about Order 66 and the fall of the Republic, Stan would try to search for his brother hoping for the possibility that he was still alive. He never found his brother and eventually mourned him.

• The brothers would then reunite shortly after Stan met Dipper and Mabel when both kids found themselves lost on the underworld of Coruscant and ran into a six- fingered stranger who protected them from the eyes of stormtroopers. Though, unbeknownst to the kids, this man also happened to be their Grunkle's bounty.

•Ford protected Dipper and Mabel after sensing they were Force-sensitive. But, when a Mandalorian bounty hunter came to get them, Ford did not hesitate to keep the kids safe. Though, unbeknownst to him, the Mandalorian he just fought with turned out to be the kids' great uncle and his twin brother, whom he has not seen since they were 14.

That's all I have for this Au! Can't wait to share more with y'all in the future.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 19

Din Djarin + Marking (hickeys, bruises, tattoos, etc)

Readers Mirialan, cuz I like the many different species in Star Wars and ill find a way to work them into all my work.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist

Dating Din Djarin was an experience, though not many knew either of you were even together. You were a banished member of the Mirialan people, banished for different levels of theft and smuggling you had done in your younger years, your list of crimes going far as you had done what you needed to do to survive. You had ended up robbing the wrong person, and had been banished as they pitied how someone so young had to resort to stealing.

That didn’t stop you from gaining the tattoos that your people were known for. You were not the only Mirialan that had been banished, and a couple of them possessed the knowledge to gift the tattoos of your people to others as they knew their meaning.

As you grew older, your number of tattoos grew, your face gaining multiple geometrical shapes that any Mirilian with knowledge could tell meant you were a very powerful fighter and a foe they should not dare cross. The tattoos spread to the rest of your body as well, one of said tattoos starting from the top of your spine and going all the way down, the sides curling around your ribcage in more geometrical shapes.

You had met Din on one of your many smuggling runs, back when he had just started out as a bounty hunter for his clan, and he had run around in only a helmet. He had been ordered to bring in one of your allies, they weren’t friends, simply someone paid by the same person, but you weren’t gonna let some greenie barely wet behind the ears newbie think they were better than you.

You had wiped the floor with him that day, the agility and flexibility that came with your species allowing you many ways to overpower him. Din would tell you years later, that was when he had fallen in love with you, because to a Mandalorian, there was nothing more attractive than a partner that could kick your ass.

It took a long time for you to see Dins face, even after you went from allies, to friends, and then lovers. It had something to do with his culture, you never fully understood his clans’ ways, but it was how things were for him, and so you would respect it. Hearing how he sputtered the first time you undressed in front of him still brought a smile to your green lips, as his clan or covert didn’t seem to partake in that act either.

Din always seemed so fascinated by your tattoos, his fingers always stroking across them when you stood near him or when you cuddled in bed, his helmet always on even in his sleep. Even when you had dropped to your knees when he was sitting in his pilot seat after an extra adrenaline bringing mission, where you had quickly asked for permission before throwing off his cod-piece, undoing his undersuit, and swallowed down his quickly hardening length.

The lack of skin-on-skin contact had left Din very sensitive, his helmet picking up his gasps and groans as he fumbled off his gloves so he could caress your tattooed face, his thumb rubbing against a line of tattoos under your left eye. Even through his helmet you could feel his sight stuck on those geometrical shapes, and after that day you had gone down on him, his obsession only seemed to grow.

His hands would always wander, rubbing your tattooed skin, and he seemed to have a great obsession with the ink on your back. You could regularly find yourself laid out on your stomach as he sat on your hips, rubbing his hands up and down your back. After a while Din seemed to come out of his shell good enough, as one night when he was rubbing your back you could feel him grinding his cock into your ass.

Din didn’t leave many hickeys for obvious reasons, the helmet always staying on his head, but there were a few times where he would crawl under your shared blanket, his helmet lifting enough to bite and lick as your skin, leaving hickeys near the ink on your skin after eating you out or sucking you off.

When everything happened with the child, or Grogu you learned his name was, you hadn’t been around for most of it. You had wanted to propose to Din, and had gone to your fellow banished elders to learn about your cultures way of marriage. Your elders ended up teaching you quite a bit about the meaning of your cultures tattoos, even adding a new one on your dominant hand to commiserate you taking down a krayt dragon on tattooine.

You and Din settled down on Tattooine for a while after everything, as Din needed time to heal from the experience and the whole, gaining the darksaber and becoming mandalor, not that he wanted it, but he seemed to be the best option in your eyes.

You had worn a thin layer of bacta patch on your hand ever since gaining your tattoo, wanting to keep it a secret from your lover until the time was right. That time was one evening, the two of you sparring in the area Boba had specifically set up for such things, and like the first time you met, you wiped the floor with Din. Though you could only blame it on him not being in the mood, as he was still healing from everything.

You had him pinned on the floor, the words tumbling from your mouth before you brain could keep up. “Marry me” you blurted out, feeling your cheeks turning a darker shade of green as you realized what you had said. Din had been silent for a while, maybe a while too long as you start to regret having asked, but when he said yes you knew it was all worth it.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to stumble into your shared bedroom at the palace, armor thrown to the ground soon followed by undersuits and whatever else you were wearing. For mandalorians marriage was easy, it was just a vow spoken between two people and it was official, but for your people a tattoo needed to be drawn.

Din seemed to almost be shaking with excitement as you pulled out the tools the elders had given you, immediately laying down on his back and pointing at his chest, right above his heart, when you asked where he wanted it. You had laughed softly at him, but the tattoo gun in your hand buzzed to life, and the symbol of your unification was drawn on his chest.

As you drew the geometrical shapes above his head, Dins hands found your waist as he couldn’t seem to stop himself from grinding his hardening cock up into you, tiny soft moans leaving him from the slight sting of the tattoo being marked on his skin.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you started making the own mark on your own skin, though you weren’t able to put it the same place as Din as that area was already covered. But as you started drawing it on the inside of your thigh, Dins louder moans and harder grinds against you made it clear he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Bacta was rubbed on both tattoos to said with healing, which was where you removed the layer of patch on your hand as well, finally allowing Din to see the mark of a hunter the elders had drawn on you. His breath had stuttered as well as his hips as you felt him jolt and gasp, painting your bottom half in white.

Din had shivered slightly as you grinned down at him, though you froze as you saw him reach for his helmet, finally taking it off and letting it fall to the floor with a metallic clank. He was even more beautiful than you had imagined him, and kissing him felt like everything you had dreamed of. When you started kissing him, you almost didn’t wanna stop, biting and sucking and licking until you were both breathless.

Din flipped you onto your back, an almost teasing grin overtaking his face as he started pressing small feather light kisses against your tattooed chest. “I finally get to show you just how much I love these” he purred, starting to follow the pattern of your tattoos with his tongue and teeth, sucking hickeys into your skin along the way.

After what felt like hours of being praised and loved by your now husband, Din finally opened you up with his fingers as he bit and sucked on your inked chest. Gripping his curly hair, you pulled him into a wet tongue filled kiss as he lifted your legs around his chest, pushing inside you with a groan leaving the both of you as you both felt completed in a way you hadn’t been able to achieve before.

Din was still sensitive, he had always been, and now that you were both completely naked you could grip and kiss him anywhere you wanted, even as the movement of his hips grew uneven and erratic, or as he gasped and whimpered into the hollow of your neck as he grew closer and closer to the edge.

Feeling how close he was getting, you could help but reaching down and pull yourself to completion, twisting and jerking your hand in ways that had you tightening up and your eyes fluttering. That seemed to be the last push Din needed, as he watched your tattooed hand curl around yourself and causing you to pulse white spurts across your chest.

Din groaned loudly as he spilled inside you, both of you gasping at the warmth that filled you up, Din almost collapsing down on top of you. You ended up simply holding one another for a while, bathing in the others warmth and love as kisses were shared between each other until you both caught your breath.

Din mumbled into your neck words in Mandalorian you knew meant that he loved you, but a word was added at the end you didn’t understand. When you asked him what that meant, he had almost looked smug as he told you “It means spouse, I love you, my spouse”, though his cheeks had gained a pinker color. You had laughed softly and pulled him close to you again, repeating the words back to him even if your pronunciation could use more work.

[iron-strangers]

we will raise warriors

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Tags: Established Relationship, Mand’alor Din Djarin, PWP, Vaginal sex, Creampie

CW: Breeding Kink, No use of Y/N, Smut (MINORS DNI)

Length: 2.036 words

Read this on AO3: we will raise warriors

Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

-

“Happy love day!” You greet Din at the front door of your home by tackling him with a bear hug, armors and all, presenting a small gift, wrapped rather messily, with a huge, silly red bow on top. “Got you a little something, cyare!”

Din just walked into your home, a grand three-bedroom apartment-style room in the eastern wing of Keldabe Palace. I want to see the sunrise every morning, cyare, you had said when Din asked you to pick your family wing upon moving to the ancient, though newly renovated palace. Din had no preference. No actually, he’d prefer not to live in the old castle. He’d rather live in a house in the countryside, somewhere near a body of water, where he can enjoy nature with his family, away from the responsibility of being The Mand’alor. But anywhere is just as good if he has his beautiful riduur and their foundling with him, Din claimed.

You help your riduur to pull off his cape, hanging the long fabric on its stand near the door. Gone is the old and tattered one, replaced by a floor-length, crimson, soft fabric that more often than not got folded into a birikad for Grogu. You excitedly rush him towards the karyai, sitting him down on a couch and placing the gift in his hand. Not used to getting presents, Din eagerly removes his helmet before pulling the red ribbon off, revealing a small T-shaped metal in a transparent box. He stares at it with a puzzled look on his face before looking back up at you with his head tilted sideways.

“Is this, uh, a new bullet?”

”It is not a bullet, don't you dare to load it into your blaster,” You scold, snatching the box from your riduur's hand. “You remember how we’ve talked about trying for a baby? We’ve been planning it for a while, and then there was that time when we kinda, you know, get excited about it in the throne room?” Oh yeah, Din can’t forget that one, nuh-uh, top ten moment of his life. “So, here it is. This is an IUD, mine. It’s my birth control. I went to the healer this morning to take it out.”

Din stutters, his eyes wide open, looking back and forth at you and the IUD, so expressive behind his helmet, trying to process what he just heard. You smile at him patiently, your hands steady on his shoulder, rubbing tight circles with your thumbs, giving him some time to process the news. A few seconds later, the frown morphs into a smile, a huge grin now adorning his handsome face as he then pulls you to his lap and claims your lips in a flurry of hungry kisses. His hands come up to your jaw to cup your face, holding you ever-so-gently as he peppers your face with kisses, stealing giggles out of you.

“How soon can we start?” Din asks eagerly, beaming to you like a verd’ika who just got his first set of beskar’gam, holding you by your ass and lifting you both from the couch, ignoring your protests, holding tightly around his neck.

“Well, my healer said it might take a few weeks to purge the hormones outta my system, but she also said that anything can happen,” You shrug, absently playing with the tuft of hair reaching his neck, he needs a haircut, you duly noted. “Anyways, the elders are begging for us to start training heirs already, so how about you give us what we all want and fuck a baby into me, ner Mand'alor ?” You lean in to whisper playfully, lightly nibbling on his earlobe.

You watch with a smirk when Din is, once again, completely at a loss for words. His pupils are dark with desire and you can feel him starting to harden in his pants against the swell of your ass. Smirking, you grind down on his growing erection, earning a groan from him, always so easy to tease. “Dont start something you can't finish, Rid'ika,” He warns you, pressing your back against the bedroom wall.

“But we all know how much you want to,” you tease, trailing your hand down his beskar-covered chest all the way to the tenting length straining his flightsuit pants. “Want me all soft and pregnant, looking absolutely yours . Your riduur, your baby- Oh !”

Din throws you on the bed, ignoring your squeals. He immediately crawls on top of you and pins you down with a kiss. His hand sneaks down to pull your armors off one by one. He studies you thoroughly, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing his left vambrace that you have worn since your riduurok. He brushes your robes aside, sliding his hand down your belly, admiring your body for a moment. You take his gloves off, wanting to feel your riduur's blaster-calloused fingers on your skin. Your breath catches and the feeling of his hands on you makes you shudder. His middle finger slips beneath the panties and between your slick folds.

“So fucking wet for me, cyar’ika.” Din's lips are back on yours, swallowing your gasps as he circles your sensitive nub. You break the kiss with a sob when you feel Din gathering up your slick on his fingers and he nudges his thick fingers into your heat. You gasp as he slides his fingers deep, crooking his fingers into your sweet spot.

“Right there, Din,” you whine, throwing your head back onto the bed. Your riduur’s hand travels up, cupping your breast and rubbing the pad of his thumb over your pebbled nipple, pulling and pinching. He watches as you chew on your lower lip, trying to stave off your moans. 

“Fuck mesh’la , I can’t wait until these are filled with milk. Aching and leaking all day long until I can milk you dry.” Din leans closer to you, rolling your nipple with his tongue. His mouth closes around you and he sucks hard while his other fingers are still leisurely pumping in and out of you, ignoring your pleas.

“Please what, cyar'ika? Where's that smart mouth now, hmm?”

“Please fuck me! Need you to come inside, fill me up with our verd’ika, please, ner alor- ah!” 

Din swears hearing your needy whines, eager to give whatever his riduur's wants. He pulls his fingers out of you and taps your drenched folds with the tip of his cock. Din growls, he has denied himself for way too long, tucking his face in the crook of your neck he buries himself all the way into you in one thrust, knocking the breath out of you. 

“Force, you fill me up so fucking good .” You moan, letting your head fall down the pillow and grabbing a fistful of the sheet as Din immediately pounds into you. Your walls flutter around his girth, struggling to take him. 

Din burns with desire and his primal need to breed takes over. One rough snap of his hips makes you scream as the head of his cock nudges your sweet spot just right, severing the connection to your brain for a moment.

“You like that, cyar’ika?” He leans down, kissing your sweaty temples. You nod, trapped underneath your riduur, wailing and begging and taking everything Din is giving you. He claims your lips and kisses every plea from your mouth before he pulls back, indulging himself by staring down where his cock is buried inside of you. His length is wet and sticky with your arousal and his pre-cum, making him growl and pace himself harder, faster, rougher.

“I know how much you want it, rid'ika- fuck , look at you, made such a mess on my cock, mesh’la. You don’t want me to stop fucking this pussy until you’re all round and swollen with my ad’ika, huh?” 

“Yes, please, Mand'alor, please fuck a baby into me, wanna make you a buir.”

“Manda - Soak my cock, mesh'la, c'mon, gonna get you all wet and pregnant.” he snarls, spitting filthy promises as he thrust harder. “That’s it, cyar’ika. Keep on squeezing me like that, sweet girl. Not gonna stop fucking this tight pussy until you're all nice and full with our verd'ika.”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes, Din, cyare,” you moan, rolling your hips greedily. “Wanna give you a baby, Din. Come inside me, please. Please give me your cum, oh, Force-”

Din can’t control himself any longer, he growls gutturally, his fingers digging into your hips as his pace grows sloppier and he shoots the first of his hot, heavy load deep inside of you, holding you hard against his front and rutting his hips as he pumps his seeds into your willing womb. The feeling of Din's seeds flooding your insides is overwhelming, your mind is whiting out, legs trembling and you’re cumming hard, milking the thick shaft, enticing him to pump more loads into you until it leaks down your thigh. 

“Don't waste any drop now, cyar’ika.” Din hums, grinning and kissing on your jaw. Slowly he eases himself out of you and watches his cum dripping out of you. He tuts with dismay, gently fingering it back into your puffy cunt, then he gives you his fingers to suck clean. 

You settle in his arms, making out with him lazily when he pulls away and smiles, his hand a comforting weight on your tummy. His smile gives you butterflies. Running your fingers up and down his forearm, you beam to him and he almost tips over with the weight of his love and adoration for you. 

“I'm so excited,” you whisper softly, admiring the blissful look on your riduur’s face as he sounds his agreement and presses a tickling kiss on your nose. Din plays with your hair, brushing the strands sticking on your sweaty forehead back. “Mesh’la? I like the name Aranar,” Din thinks, and you beam at him, nodding and testing the name on your tongue.

The sun is setting, painting a beautiful glow on both his and your mismatched vambraces. There's a peaceful silence between you, the sound of his breathing evening out lulls you to sleep, almost swallowing you into a slumber when you remember something-

“Oh, I have another present for you, an actual present!”

Din tries to protest, claiming you’ve already given him the best present in the galaxy when you shush him, levitating an equally small box from the side table. You open the box, revealing two identical keys on a plush velvet. Din eyes you curiously, picking one key up.

“Remember that one house we saw near your covert?”

“The one with the big yard near the pond? Did you- No, cyar’ika!”

“It’s ours! No, listen to me,” you huff when your riduur tries to protest again. “We can’t live in the palace forever, Din. I won’t let you to. You don’t like it here, and therefore, neither do I. I figured we’d stay here until Mandalore is stable enough, or until we’ve reached about seventy percent of our rebuilding goal, then we’ll move out. We’ll get speeders to get here every morning, show our adi’ke around, then we’ll come home when the day is done, to a place where the Council of Alor can't steal you away from me. We can make it work, my love.” 

Din stares at you adoringly with his big brown eyes, too overwhelmed with the weight of your love to honestly do or say anything other than holding you close and kissing you, caressing your jaw lovingly with each kisses, murmuring a soft thank you over and over again against your lips. “I’ve never- No one’s ever do this much for me,” he mumbles, holding your hand to his heart. “You don’t like it here too? Why don’t you tell me?”

“Oh cyare, you deserve the world and you gave so much for me and our foundling, so of couse I will try to give you a place we both can call home, where we can watch our aliit grows,” You lean into his touch, nuzzling his hand with your jaw, offering him a smile. “And no, I don’t like this place, the force ghosts of previous Mand’alors are creeping me the fuck out!”

“THE WHAT NOW?”

-

Mando'a translations

Karyai: main living room of a traditional mandalorian house

Riduur: Spouse

Birikad: Baby harness

Mand’alor: Ruler of mandalorians

Alor: Leader

Cyare / cyar’ika: beloved

Riduurok: Love bond / Marriage agreement

Mesh’la: Beautiful

Verd’ika: Little warrior

Aranar: Defend

[kitcat22]

Au in which jango is a little bit more fucked up by the killing of his people, followed by his years in slavery and instead of requesting an unaltered clone, he wants one that will age slower than the average human.

Maybe he tries to excuse it as wanting more time to enjoy being a parent and more time to train Boba but really it comes from his desperate need for someone that is completely his and won’t grow up and leave him before he’s ready like everyone else he loved. He’s lost his parents, he’s lost Jaster, he’s lost Arla, he’s lost the true mandalorians, he can’t lose Boba.

This obviously majorly fucks up Boba.

Either his mind ages at the same rate as his body meaning he’s a 10 year old, traumatised, orphan bounty hunter for even longer in a world that does not care he’s a child and will take advantage of that

OR

His mind ages past his body and you get a body horror situation similar to Claudia from Interview with a Vampire, where he has an adult mind but a body far to immature for him.

Like the psychological horror of being treated like a young child and expected to act like one when you are in fact an adult. The inability to make any friends as the only people around you outage you even more rapidly than before, leaving you utterly isolated in the white hell that is Kamino, except for your father who has kind of ruined your life

I think this really emphasises that even though Jango loved Boba he was not a great parent, probably wouldn’t even call him a good one, while also adding to Boba’s not great mental state and identity issues.

Also consider Book of Boba Fett with Fennec Shand now taking orders from a teenager and Din getting his ass saved by one. Han, Luke and Leia having beef with a teenager.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [1]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: use of fake name, reader is hiding from a shady past

Word Count: 4,506

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn't meant for everyone.

Chapter #01: TWO PORGS, ONE BLASTER

Chapter Summary: The Marshal is looking to hire a nanny, and you just so happen to be moving into the city.

“remember to live while you’re busy surviving.” -d.j.

Din Djarin was busier these days than he ever had been before. Even compared to years ago, when he was picking up dozens of bounty pucks and collecting quarries left and right, it was nothing compared to now. If he had known that being Nevarro's marshal would be so hectic, he may have never accepted it. At the thought, he sighed. That was a bold faced lie. He still would’ve taken the job in a heartbeat because the pay was better than anything he had ever made previously. Speaking strictly in terms of credits, it was significantly less than the various bounties he’d pick up, but the job brought him peace of mind. It brought safety to Grogu. More than just safety, it gave the child the opportunity to grow and learn in an environment where he wasn’t at risk. They had settled here a couple of months ago, and for most of that time Grogu had been happy and free of night terrors. It was a blessing Din couldn’t quantify. He’d work every second of every day if it meant the child grew up safe and loved.

At the thought of his son, he picked up his pace toward the repair shop run by Peli who had ventured from the sands of Tatooine to the growing and thriving Nevarro. She was usually the one who watched Grogu while he was working. When Peli couldn’t, there were a handful of others in town who were more than happy to help out. Din was eternally grateful that the community was willing to go above and beyond as a favor to him. In the beginning, he had actually brought Grogu with him on the job. It wasn’t absurd. Back in the day, when his journey with Grogu first began, he brought the child along on bounties. A day in the life of a small community Marshal was actually quite tame in comparison. Still, that wasn’t normal, and Din wanted normal. School would be starting up soon, as summer ended, and Din was excited to get Grogu enrolled.

He had a stable job and they had a home. Starting Grogu's education was the next step in establishing picture perfect normalcy.

The loud noise of Peli’s shop filled the air as he got closer. All three of the garage’s hanger doors were lifted and open, and Din could see it had been a busy day for the mechanic. Ships, speeder bikes, droids. There was a large collection of mechanical works being actively repaired.

“Peli! Marshal's here!” A mechanic barked out the moment he stepped into the garage. Din turned his way, but the employee didn’t bother looking up from the work they were occupied with.

Din pressed further into the shop. Helmet glanced around, looking for a blur of chaotic green, but his eyes didn’t land on his son. “Mando!” Din spun in place as the curly haired woman marched up to him. Peli was one of the few people in Nevarro who didn't refer to him as Marshal. She said she didn't want it to go to his head. Other mechanics dove out of the way to avoid her path. Though she was short in stature, Peli could command a room with voice alone. Her jumpsuit was covered in splotches of engine oil. “Took you long enough!”

“Peli.” Din nodded in greeting. “Where’s Grogu?”

“Your son,” Peli jabbed a finger in his direction, “ate a handful of bolts today.”

Din stiffened. “He what!? Where is he?”

“Just joking. He didn’t.”

“Peli, that isn’t funny.”

“It’s not a joke.”

Din resisted the urge to palm the front of his helmet into his hands. He let out a weathered sigh, “Did he eat metal bolts or didn’t he?”

“Not today. No telling about tomorrow.” Peli scoffed. “This shop is no place for a kid! I’ve been telling you that for weeks now!”

Din set his hands on his hips. “No, you haven't.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking it!”

The sound of familiar babbling alerted him to his son’s presence, and Din turned in time to see Grogu quickly waddling in his direction. Argument with Peli forgotten, he grinned and scooped up the child who continued to babble enthusiastically.

“Hey there, you little womp rat.” Din rubbed his belly and Grogu wrapped his arms around his hand in response. The sound of his laugh made Din chuckle himself. As important as his goal of normalcy was, Din missed the uninterrupted time he used to have with his son. There was a lot wrong with their previous adventures, a lot of danger, but nothing beat the long days in hyperspace and hiding where his only responsibility was to care for the child. “I heard you’ve been giving Peli trouble.”

Grogu laughed again⏤ not even attempting to hide his guilt. Peli wagged her finger in his direction once more. “You see? It’s only a matter of time until he swallows one of my tools. Then what would we do? I’d be a tool short!”

“I’m sorry, Peli.” Din chuckled. “School will be starting up soon. You won’t have to watch him during the day then.”

“He’ll still need watching after, won’t he? Your work day isn’t done until evening!” Peli argued. “And what about the nights when you get called into work?”

Din winced, but he kept his head still so Peli wouldn’t notice. She wasn’t wrong. There had been a handful of times when Din's presence was required at the station and he was forced to drop Grogu off with Peli in the dead of night. She lived in a small apartment beside the shop, and her shop was on the way from their home to the station. Stopping to leave Grogu with her was too easy to resist. It wasn't like he could leave the child at home alone.

Grogu began to tap on the side of Din’s helmet and he began to bounce the child in his arms to distract him. “I’m sorry, Peli. I really appreciate everything you do for us. You know that, right?” Peli waved his words away with a huff. As brash and grumpy as the woman could be, especially on a busy day, he knew Peli loved spending time with Grogu and he knew that complaints aside she’d always be willing to help out. It was why he was so grateful for her. “My hands are tied right now. I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Hire someone, you lug!” Peli scoffed. “Get a live-in nanny.”

“Live-in nanny?” Din questioned, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

“Yeah. Someone who can watch little bright eyes around the clock when you can’t. Someone who’ll be there at 3AM when you get called into the office. Why do I gotta come up with all the good ideas around here?”

Din didn’t love the idea, but he couldn’t deny the merits of it. Once upon a time, he would’ve shot it down immediately. However, he wasn’t who he once was. Din had learned that going out on a branch to trust someone didn’t always end bloody. The community was filled with people Din had taken a chance on and was rewarded in his risk. He had friends he trusted, and they never would've been in his life if he hadn't taken the risk in the first place.

“Where…” Din cleared his throat. “Where would I even find one?”

“Whoop, whoop!” Din and Peli both turned to see a mechanic a few feet away. They had been buried under a speeder bike but jumped up in excitement. Dirty goggles hung around her neck and the light pink color of her skin made the black grease stains stand out more. “Howdy, Marshal Mando.”

“Nima.” Din greeted with a nod. He didn’t know every single person who worked for Peli, but Nima was Peli’s right hand mechanic. The young Twi’lek was extraordinary with a wrench if Peli was to be believed, and Din knew it took a lot to impress the older woman. “How are you?”

“Real swell.” Nima stepped closer, rubbing her hands on a rag tucked into her overall pocket. “Not to be nosy, but I heard you got a job that needs filling and I have a cousin who needs a job.” Din tilted his head and waited for her to elaborate. “My cousin is moving here⏤ well, let me clarify, she’s not my actual cousin by blood. We’re cousins by marriage. Her mom’s sister married my mom’s brother. We⏤ wait, they actually got divorced like a year ago so I don’t know if we technically⏤”

“Nima!” Peli barked. “The point!”

“Right, right, right.” Nima shook her head. “My maybe not cousin is moving to town, and she’s looking for work.”

Din lifted a hand to lightly grasp Grogu’s hands as the kid tried to pry his helmet up. “Does she have experience with kids?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Nima nodded. “She’s a superstar with kids. Total magic.”

Peli slapped her hand against the beskar of his chest plate then pointed at him. Din sighed and gave them both a slight nod. “I’d be willing to meet her, but that’s it. No promises.”

“She’ll be in town by the end of the week!” Nima cheered. “I’ll bring her around!”

Grogu began to whine, and Din thanked both women before making his way out of the garage. It was time for dinner and the child was quick to get fussy when a meal wasn’t on its way. Plus, Grogu had gotten accustomed to nights in the privacy of their home when Din would remove his helmet. It had become a part of their routine.

“Buir, buir, buir.” Grogu chanted.

“I know, I know.” Din chuckled as he unlocked the front door. Once in, he used his free hand to pull his helmet off and tucked it under his elbow with a smile.

Grogu patted his face in excitement. “Buir!”

“Let’s get some dinner ready, ad’ika.” Din stepped further in. Hearing Grogu speak Mando’a warmed his heart. Hearing him speak at all warmed his heart, really. Din was convinced his son knew more basic and Mando’a than he’d shown. The few things he did say he only said in the safety of their home. Another reason Din was excited for school to start, he hoped it’d excite Grogu into speaking more.

Din set the boy down so he could move around the kitchen easier, and he couldn’t bite back the smile of ease on his face. He loved his life, he loved his son, and Din didn’t think things could get more perfect than what it was right now. He just hoped adding in a new face wouldn’t disrupt their routine.

You absentmindedly let your fingers trace the ugly, jagged scar along your collarbone. The wound had healed months ago, but there was something about the rough skin that haunted you. It didn’t hurt. If anything the tissue there was numb, and that bothered you more than anything else. For some reason, it felt wrong that you weren’t in pain.

The transport ship rumbled to a stop as it landed, and it snapped you back into the moment. You straightened in your seat and glanced out the window. A year and a half ago nobody ever spoke of Nevarro. It had been a blip in the Outer Rim for bounty hunters and those hiding from the New Republic. Now, it was a bustling trade post flourishing with life. From where your ship sat on the landing pad, you could see the white and gray buildings of Nevarro stretching out into the black, glassed land of the mountains that sat on the edge of the lava plains. It still wasn't a very large community. Not yet, at least. Your eyes scanned the land beside the landing pad. You had lived in the beautiful greenery of Naboo, the bustling cities of Coruscant, and the sandy dunes of Tatooine. This was vastly different in comparison.

You let a few others leave before rising yourself. As you followed the very small crowd off the ship you stretched your legs out best you could without stopping. It had been a long trip from Mos Espa to Nevarro. The second your feet stepped onto the landing pad you heard your name being screamed by a familiar voice. It was almost odd to hear it said aloud after so much time, but the voice of your old friend kept you from flinching. A broad smile crossed your features and you barely had time to turn before you were tackled in a hug.

“Oh, I missed you so much!” Nima cheered in your ear. She squeezed you tight enough that all you could manage was a small pat on her back considering she had your arms pinned to your side.

“I missed you too.” You wheezed. “And now I’m beginning to miss air.”

Nima released you, taking a step back, and you sucked in a large breath. She bounced in place, her pink lekku whipping around her, “I’m so happy you’re finally here! It’s been way, way too long!” It was true, and seeing Nima brightened your mood significantly. “How was your trip-”

The beginnings of your name began to slip from her mouth, but your hand snapped out to cover her lips. Her eyebrows rose in confusion, and you just offered her a sheepish smile. "Soran. Call me Soran. Remember?" Her eyes widened and you could see a flash of regret in her eyes. She had simply forgotten. "It's okay. No biggie. Just... Soran, okay?"

"I'm so sorry. I just got so excited." Nima apologized. "Don't worry, I didn't use your real name with anyone in town or anything." You nodded and made your way to where luggage was being placed on the landing pad from the storage bin. Nima walked a step behind you. You scooped up your bag, wrapping it around your shoulders, and Nima looped one arm through yours. "I'm so happy you're here."

The words were said with such sincerity that it warmed your heart. It made you wish you had taken her up on her offer ages ago. She began to drag you across the landing pad toward the start of the town. Her cheery attitude and happy-go-lucky demeanor was contagious. She was talking up a storm, something about work, while you gazed at the street you walked down. The path was paved and the street was filled with people milling about happily. A few vendors sold goods in the open at stalls, and you could hear the music of a band from further down the street. It was a cozy and warm atmosphere, and it wasn't the kind of place you expected Nima to settle down.

You met Nima during your teenage years when part of her family married part of yours. The two of you had grown close and without a doubt she was one of your closest friends. Family really. It was why at your absolute lowest you had caved and accepted her invitation to join her in Nevarro. Nima worked at a local mechanic shop which turned out to be her calling. She had always been good at tinkering with anything mechanical, but she was thriving under the instruction of the woman she worked for. At least, that's what she was constantly telling you. Nima had found her happy place, and you were ecstatic for her.

“⏤and Peli is still awesome.” Nima continued. “When we're not busy, she's letting me work on this old Razor Crest with her. It's some sort of secret project and the ship is in really bad shape, but I'm learning so much. It’s the best job ever.”

“That’s amazing, Nima.”

“Oh! And speaking of awesome jobs, I got you one.”

Your eyes widened. “Huh?”

“A job and a place to live. I got it covered.”

“Wow. I’m…seriously impressed, Nima. So, that means your boss is okay with me helping around the shop with inventory and stuff?”

Nima paused, then cursed in her native tongue. “I knew I was forgetting to do something. I was supposed to ask Peli about you.”

“If you didn’t ask her if I could work there, then where am I working?” You questioned in confusion.

“So, the Marshal has this super cute kid, and he needs a round the clock nanny.” Nima gave you a thumbs up. You blinked in shock, unable to find the words to voice your disbelief. She took this as a victory cheered. “I knew you’d love it.”

You shook your head. “No, no. This is a bad idea.”

“What? No way.” Nima shook her head with a pout. “You need a job and you need a place to live. I got you both in one. Two porgs, one blaster.”

“I⏤That’s⏤You said it wrong.” You said.

Nima furrowed her brow at you. “No, I think you just don’t get it. It means, like, you have two problems, the two porgs, and one solution takes care of both. One blaster.”

“It’s two porgs, one stone.”

“Why would I use a stone to hit a porg when I have a blaster?”

“You wouldn’t, but if you had a blaster you could shoot way more than just two porgs.”

“Yeah, but you only have two porgs right now.”

You waved your arms in the air as if you could swipe away the pointless argument. “This is⏤ No. We're done with that. My point is, this is not a good idea. I’ve never been a nanny before. The last time I baby-sat a kid was literally ages ago, and it was for a few evenings. I didn't live with the kid or the family.”

“You’re great with kids. I’ve seen it!” Nima argued in your favor.

“Being good with kids is not the same as helping raise one.”

Nima shrugged. “Nuance. Besides, everything else in town right now is part time work and you said you wanted a full time job.” You had said that. The more time you spent busy, the less time you had to think. That was the plan at least Bury yourself in pointless work. “I mean, you could pick up the job of local physician.”

You stiffened. “Nima⏤”

“Our main doctor sucks. Like you wouldn’t believe. Laziest asshole this side of the Outer Rim. It's the one fault of Nevarro in my opinion.” Nima scoffed. “You would do so much better⏤”

“Don’t.” You said firmly, and Nima grew quiet. “I’m not… I’m not doing that right now. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m not allowed to⏤ to⏤” You cleared your throat. “I’m not allowed to practice medicine until the trial is over. Officially.”

Nima squeezed your arm. “The trial will be over before the year's end, at the latest, and there is no way they aren’t throwing that kriffing asshole in jail for the rest of his miserable life.” This was the exact thing you wanted to avoid. It’s literally why you ran away in the first place. “Nothing about what happened was your fault.”

“Nima, can we not?” You blurted. “I just…” Your lungs felt heavy and even though you were more than capable of breathing none of the air you sucked in was rewarding. “Tell me more about the job. The Marshal’s kid.”

Nima shot you a concerned look before nodding. “Right.” She forced a smile onto her face. “He’s a Mandalorian and his son is a 50 year old precious, green gremlin.”

“Um, what?”

Nevarro was shockingly beautiful. You had heard it was, and that it was slowly becoming a staple of the Outer Rim, but hearing it was different than seeing it with your own eyes. The population was about four thousand and it was constantly growing. Every single person you passed took the time to greet Nima, and she took the time to introduce you. It hadn’t been an exaggeration when Nima said it was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone. The two of you emptied out at the end of a street into a large, open plaza. In it's center sat a tall bronze statue of a droid.

“That's the Magistrate's building.” Nima pointed to the tall, intricate building behind the droid statue. It was active with people going up and down the stairs that led into the building. “Magistrate Karga is super cool. He used to hand out bounties to hunters. Wild shit.”

“So, the Magistrate was an Agent of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild and your Marshal is an actual Mandalorian?”

Nima nodded. “The Marshal's Deputy used to be a Shock Trooper.”

“Wow. I’m not sure I’m qualified to even live here.” You mumbled.

“Don’t be silly. You’ll fit right in.” Nima slotted her hand into yours and began to drag you down the street. She had taken you to her small apartment first, to give you time to set down your belongings and wash up, but she was quick to pull you back out into the streets. It was cute how eager she was to show you around Nevarro, and you could tell between her and everyone you met how proud they were of their community.

Nima pointed out a few shops as you passed, but it was clear that her aim was to take you to the Marshal's station. You shot her a dry look that she only grinned at in response.

“Seriously?”

“He needs somebody super soon and you need a job. Plus, a place to live. You think I want you on my couch for the rest of your life?”

You shoved her with a laugh. “I haven’t slept on your couch a single night yet, and you’re already tired of me?”

“Just come on.” Nima dragged you building nestled amongst others. It was decorated similar as the rest of the town with white bricks and dark blue flags.

The Marhsal's station wasn’t overly large. Outside, parked to the side, were a few speeders and inside the front doors was a small lobby with a woman sitting behind a desk. Nima greeted her by name, introducing you in a rush, before pulling you through. The receptionist didn’t seem surprised by this behavior and didn’t make the moves to stop either of you. You wondered if Nima came barging in here often. Was she close to the Marshal?

The hallway from the lobby led into a clean and brightly lit room. The back wall was made of windows where the lava plains could be seen since the station was at the edge of town, and there were three desks planted in the center of the room. Off to the left side were two cells, cordoned off with silver bars, and you found yourself happy to see no one was currently being held in custody. Despite having the cells present, the entire room had a casual feel to it. A dart board was hung up on a wall, darts sticking out of it, and the desks were covered in office supplies and holopads.

“What’re you doing here, trouble maker?”

“Cara!” Nima cheered as a large woman stepped into the room from a different door. She untangled her hand from yours to rush over and greet this Cara woman with a hug. She was tall and broad, and the tattoo band around her right upper arm hinted to you that this must be the Deputy Nima mentioned earlier. The ex-shock trooper. She surely looked like someone who used to work in that line of action. “I brought my cousin by to say hello!”

Cara’s dark eyes rolled over to you in amusement. “Yeah. I see the family resemblance.”

"This is Soran." Nima introduced you with the name you had adopted months ago for the sake of anonymity. “And this is Deputy Cara Dune. Resident badass.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” You offered your hand. “Can I call you Cara or do you prefer Deputy badass or…?”

Cara chuckled. “Cara works.”

“Where is everyone?” Nima glanced around the room. “I’m looking for Marshal Mando.”

“Hey, Mando!” Cara yelled back through the door she came in from. She marched past the two of you to drop down into a chair at a desk. She rested her hands behind her head and casually kicked up her legs. “Our generator out back keeps cutting out.”

Nima's eyes widened, curious, “Oh, yeah?”

“It’s been a wreck since early this morning.”

“Cara, it’s making that noise again. Can you call Peli?” A deeper, modulated voice called out. You straightened in your posture as a Mandalorian dressed in silver beskar stepped into the room. Everything you knew about Mandalorians came from legend and stories. You had never met one before. The Marshal’s broad figure and confident, yet casual pace, screamed power. A blaster was hooked to his hip. He was the picture of intimidation, and you’d find yourself nervous if it weren’t for the baby carrier strapped around his chest⏤ the one with a large eared, small green toddler tucked safely in place. It cooed happily with his hands wrapped around the fingers of the Mandalorians gloved hand.

Nima clapped her hands. “Don’t bother Peli! I’ll fix it right now!”

“I’ll show you where it’s at.” Cara pushed up.

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out and you watched in shock as your friend abandoned you with the Mandalorian and child. You blinked in shock, mouth held open. Suddenly, Nima stuck her head back in the room. “Oops. Mr. Marshal Mandalorian, this is my cousin I was telling you about.” She grinned at you. “Cousin, this is the mighty Marshal Mandalorian and his adorable green bean child I told you about.”

With no further words, she left once more. You were gonna kill her. Most definitely. The sound of a throat clearing made your eyes snap back to the man standing across from you. His silver helmet had a t-shaped visor of black glass that gave you no hint at the expression he wore. The two of you just stared at one another for a long moment. Awkward silences were the bane of your existence and you tried to avoid them at all costs. To a fault, arguably. You thrust a hand out to him with a nervous smile. "Hi. You can call me Soran. I'm the cousin Nima always talks about, but I'm not her actual cousin, er..."

"Right." The Mandalorian replied. He shook your hand. "Call me Mando."

"Mando? Like, short for Mandalorian?" You chuckled, and he didn't reply. You rubbed your hands against your pants. Thank the Maker, he had been wearing gloves and couldn’t feel your clammy palms. If you hadn't already decided to murder Nima for abandoning you in this situation, you would've chosen to do it for offering your services to this man. A service you weren't even qualified for. Still, you needed work, a lot of it, and if this was your best option you'd do what you'd have to. “So, is this your son?”

At the question, the child began to babble happily. His adorable, nonsensical words were a good distraction from beating yourself up over asking such a stupid question.

“Yes. This is Grogu.” He responded. The modulator gave his voice a husky quality that was hard not to notice. Grogu was still babbling, but now he released his father’s hands to reach out to you. He opened and closed his hands in a grabbing motion and at the small child’s request you couldn’t help but lift a hand up to him. Grogu grasped at your finger and you offered him a small smile. “Nima says you’re looking for a job.”

Your eyes snapped up from the kid to Mando. “Uh, yes. I am.” It was silent between the two of you again, save for Grogu’s happy voice. “To be honest though…" Your brain screamed at you to lie. Tell him you had an extensive history of babysitting and were well suited for the job. However, lying had never come natural to you. It always left a terrible taste in your mouth. You sighed, "I’m by no means a professional nanny. I’m actually not even an amateur one.” Mando didn’t respond or move his head in any way to hint his thoughts. You cleared your throat. “What I mean is, I like kids, and I’m responsible enough to keep one alive." You winced at your wording. "I just- I’m a quick learner and I'm dedicated to the work I put my mind to.” Grogu tilted his head in the cutest manner you had ever seen, but his father stayed silent. You let out a low whistle. “I am not doing a very good job of selling myself, am I?”

As seconds passed, you were tempted to throw yourself out the back window and find the nearest river of lava to jump into. Just to hide from your embarrassment. Finally, he spoke, “Where are you from?”

Your eyes widened at the direction his question took this conversation. “Oh. Naboo. I was born there, grew up there too, but I lived in Coruscant for a long, long time. Only recently moved to Mos Espa on Tatooine. That's where I just came from.”

“What kind of work do you usually do?”

As if this casual interview couldn’t get worse. You rolled various answers around in your head before settling on the best thing you could. “I worked in a medical clinic.” He was quiet and you assumed that meant he wanted more. As much as you hated lying, as terrible as it made you feel, this was a necessity you reminded yourself. This kind of lie wouldn't hurt anyone. It would protect you, keep you safe. “Receptionist." You blurted. "I scheduled appointments, re-supplied the stock, counted out credits. That kind of stuff.”

“Work…keeps me busy.” Mando said. “I just need someone else around. Keep an eye on the kid while I’m out and sometimes at night if I get called in.” Your eyebrows rose. “I haven’t ever hired a nanny before. I’m... not sure what it’s supposed to entail or the usual pay. I just need help.”

You nodded. “I can do that. I can be helpful. I’m not sure of the pay either, but I’m also not picky. Maybe just a trial period, and see how it goes? A learning curve for both of us.”

Mando nodded in agreement and held out a hand for you to shake. A sigh of relief left you and you tried to pull your hand away from Grogu who refused to let go of your fingers. You lifted your opposite hand to awkwardly grasp his outstretched hand and shook it once. You didn't quite know how to feel about this acquisition. This wasn't where you thought your life would end up. The thought of starting this job filled your belly with nervous energy. You had to succeed at this. Honestly, you were just happy the Mandalorian was willing to give you a chance. More than anything that was what your life needed. A chance. An opportunity. A fresh start. On the plus side, learning how to do a completely new job would be a good enough distraction from your past, surely.

A/N: if you see this on AO3 and think ‘omg she stole this’, I promise I didn’t. That’s me on AO3 too. Pinky swear.

[theresattrpgforthat]

The one part of D&D that still hooks me every time is the thrill of character creation. Tweaking all those numbers, the min-ing, the max-ing, all to put together a vision of a character and the life they've led. Are there any solo games that scratch that itch?

THEME: Solo Character Depth

Hello there! So much of what I’m familiar with in regards to solo play has a pretty light character creation compared to games like D&D, because the game itself is where you get to piece together that character’s life. Big shoutout to the Lone Adventurer, a You-tuber who plays solo games and records his play sessions - you might find more games that interest you on his channel!

KUROI, by Candlenaut.

Kuroi is a cyberpunk setting which pays homage to the greatest giants of the Cyberpunk genre, of which the author has been a die-hard fan since the early 90s.

The game is played on a 6x6 inch grid and is a so-called micro wargame. You progress from level to level of a heavily guarded corporate building, trying to fulfill the objectives of your Heist. The game uses a unique Action roll system with two re-rolls (Yatzee style) that you must tactically manage in your turn by using these dice to buy various actions and enhance them. In the game, you can choose several ways to progress through each level, you can be stealthy or manipulate enemies or go all out with your entire arsenal.

This is a micro skirmish game, so much like D&D, your character is built with combat in mind. You play through levels, trying to get around or fight through various enemies. Your character has skills and actions, although rather than rolling for your stats, you distribute a range of numbers according to your strengths. The higher your skill points, the more resources you have, in the form of re-roll. You also have descriptive characteristics, which you can fill in as you like.You can also look at a play through of the game on the Lone Adventurer’s YouTube channel!

Anamnesis, by Sam Leigh.

You play as an individual who has woken up with memory loss. You do not remember who you are, where you are, or what you care about. As you draw tarot cards, you fill the blank spaces of your past and learn more about your present. There is no winning or losing in Anamnesis - the goal is to tell a story and discover the identity of the character you've created.

Anamnesis as a game is entirely about character creation. You use a deck of tarot cards to provide prompts: your character is someone who has to piece together pieces of their backstory slowly, as pieces of the world around them remind them of who they used to be. If you like slowly discovering a backstory using vivid imagery and symbolism, you might like Anamnesis.

Notorious, by Always Checkers Publishing.

Notorious is a sci-fi tabletop roleplaying game for one player. Play to tell stories of the Nomads; notorious bounty hunters who strike fear among the scum & villainy of the universe & follow the dubious code of the Nomad's Guild.

In the midst of an intergalactic war, you'll take on a lucrative contract from one of six factions. The job is simple: bring the target back, dead or alive—no disintegrations.

But your presence won’t go unnoticed. 

Your growing reputation also attracts a series of hostiles. Suspicious locals who simply don’t like you (& their friends might not either), rival Nomads or faction agents working against you.

Notorious feels pretty fleshed out, with races, origins, load out and personalities that all come into play when you create your character. You play through a hunt, with descriptions of your mark and the planets they may be hiding out on determined through random rolls. Part of your character is randomly rolled, but these pieces feel like an outline that you can fill in.

You can check out a play-through of this game on the Lone Adventurer’s channel. If you want to follow the story of a lone bounty hunter like Boba Fett or the Mandalorian, this might be the game for you.

Ironsworn, by Shawn Tomkin.

In the Ironsworn tabletop roleplaying game, you are a hero sworn to undertake perilous quests in the dark fantasy setting of the Ironlands.

Others live out their lives hardly venturing beyond the walls of their village or steading, but you are different. You will explore untracked wilds, fight desperate battles, forge bonds with isolated communities, and reveal the secrets of this harsh land. Are you ready to swear iron vows and see them fulfilled—no matter the cost?

I don’t think Ironsworn really leans into the min-maxing that you’re looking for, but it does have a wealth of character options, especially if you consider the Starforged and Sundered Isles expansions. Characters choose three Modules that can represent your skills, tools, or companions, all of which help flesh out who you were before you started adventuring. You develop the character as you play, expanding on their abilities and forging bonds with NPCs as you complete quests. Your character isn’t a blank slate before you start, but I think much of the fleshing out happens as you roll.

Ironsworn isn’t solely a solo game, but it’s definitely designed with solo players in mind. The base game is free, so you can try it out without having to pay anything before you have to make a decision to buy any of the supplements!

Colostle, by Nich Angell.

Colostle is a solo RPG rulebook that allows you to play a single player adventure campaign through the impossible and incredible world of the Colostle.

The Colostle is a castle so big that there are oceans, mountains and cities within its rooms! There is no 'outside' to the Colostle, everything is within. And stalking these Roomlands, are the Rooks, huge walking stone castle towers that attack anything they see, but hold the Rookstones, the only source of magic in this world.

Colostle uses character classes, similar to D&D, complete with stats attached to your class choice. However, the game uses a deck of cards that you draw to help determine what happens next when you fight and/or explore. You also choose a calling; a reason why your character is questing in this gigantic castle. Compared to many other solo games that I’m familiar with, this game is much more structured and similar to traditional fantasy games, so Colostle might be worth checking out.

You can watch a how-to-play video for Colostle here!