#time for paz to Dad at din

[wantonlywindswept]

Good Dad Paz pt 3

one | two

whew, this one fought me a bit at the end there. definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the fact i haven’t slept yet tho

considering adding ‘vod’ to the list of untranslatable Mando’a, it has a level of camaraderie/brothers-in-arms feel that just brother/sister doesn’t really convey well enough. maybe in the edit, if i ever edit

---

Paz didn't like seeing Din wounded.

It was unnatural, their covert's best Hunter laying so silent and still. Din was quiet, but he was also a man of action: he never seemed to stay in one place long enough to rest, for good or for ill. He was always in motion, coming and going on his bounties, talking quietly with the foundlings, helping out around the covert. 

But Din had barely stirred when Paz pulled him out of the weird creature's cage, limp and insensate from whatever he'd been injected with. Paz did his best to make him comfortable, using his ratty old cloak as a pillow and placing him gently near the fire, but there wasn't much he could do other than wait. 

Wait, and stand guard, as he always had.

"He'll be fine, little one," Paz rumbled, sitting with his back to the wall in view of the entrance, Din laying next to him. The foundling cooed unhappily and tucked his head against his father's neck; as soon as Paz had placed him there, Din had curled around the child, protective even in sleep.

"Patoo."

"I've seen him get through worse than this," Paz replied mildly, "And I'm guessing you have, too."

"...leh."

"That's what I thought."

Most of Paz's supplies were topside with his ship, but he did keep emergency rations on him at all times - even if the emergencies tended to just be 'a foundling is hungry'. He set aside one of the ration bars for Din; for the child, he mixed some of his canteen water and a packet of nutrient paste together in the cup from his field kit, setting it near the edge of the fire to warm. 

He didn't actually know what the kid ate - or even what species he was - but going with something hard to choke on was generally a safe bet with babies.

Din started waking up by the time the broth was finished; Paz tested the temperature with an un-gloved finger before handing it to the little one. He reached over to place his hand flat on Din's chest at the sound of a muffled groan.

"Easy," he said. "You're safe."

"Wha-- Paz?"

"Your child is also safe," he added, as if said foundling wasn't slurping noisily right next to Din's head. 

"Grogu..?"

Aha, finally, a name for the kid. It sounded familiar, so Din had probably said it at some point before, but Din said lots of things that Paz tended to ignore.

Din tilted his helmet toward him.

"Paz?"

Paz frowned.

"Do you have a concussion?"

"...no?"

Reassuring.

Din struggled against the hand on his chest, and Paz reluctantly helped him sit up. He dropped the canteen and a ration bar in Din's lap and shuffled around so they were back-to-back, Din propped against him in a heavy weight that Paz didn't mind bearing. 

"Drink something. And eat, if you can stomach it. You need to replace whatever that thing took out of you."

Mostly blood, from what Paz could tell, but he admittedly didn't look too closely.

Din grunted in assent; Paz heard the cap of his canteen unscrew, and the soft hiss of a helmet seal disengaging. He kept his gaze straight ahead, idly scanning the room. 

"Found your kid topside," he said. "He led me down here to you. Smart little thing."

"He is," Din agreed softly. His voice sounded even worse without the vocoder modulating it, rough and tired and strained: vulnerable, in a way that their armor was designed to conceal. 

Paz stood guard while Din ate, a hand on the assault cannon at his side, his body blocking the view from the entryway. But the sewers stayed calm, just the crackling of the fire and the child's happy coos interrupting the companionable quiet. He waited until he heard Din pull his helmet back on, and the soft sizzle of a wrapper being disposed of in the fire.

Then he waited some more.

"Paz," Din said, eventually, "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your sorry ass, obviously."

Din snorted, uncontrolled and undignified, and thunked his helmet ungently against the back of Paz's. 

"Paz."

Paz sighed, tapping his fingers one-two-three against the barrels of his cannon. 

"The foulding you saved," he said. "The one who was swearing the Creed."

Din hummed in inquiry.

"He is mine."

"Oh," Din breathed. "Oh, Paz, that's wonderful. Congratulations."

Paz grinned widely beneath his helmet, ducking his head a little. The fierce pride he felt whenever he looked at Ragnar, when he remembered that he'd been gifted with a child of his own to cherish - it still surprised him, sometimes, the depth of the emotion. He'd always loved the foundlings in their covert, would have happily died to protect them - but something about having Ragnar as his son made him want to live. 

"I came in second, as usual," he groused good-naturedly. "You'd already gone and found yourself a child first."

"Ah, that's...not quite correct."

Paz blinked. 

"What?"

"I mean I haven't, yet," Din said. "He's not mine, not really. I haven't sworn the words to him."

Paz blinked again.

Then he twisted around to stare incredulously at his utter idiot of a brother.

"You what?"

[pt 4]

[gabrielislovegabrielislife]

Saving Ragnar

Paz Vizsla x reader

Mandalorian S3 E4 SPOILERS!

no beta read, we die like the younglings

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

Literally just self-indulgence.

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t try. Do.” I say softly.

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

Ragnar takes a deep breath and nods.

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

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

“I know that, but does he?” I sigh.

“Let’s go find out.”

….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My son.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” I breathe.

“Yes, you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“This is the Way” he replies

“This is the Way” we echo.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

well it's love, make it hurt - epilogue

well it's love, make it hurt series

epilogue: I will never make another promise (without you)

series masterlist | prev chapter |

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Words: 4.6k

Summary: You and Din travel in your quest to reunite the baby with his people and to seek out the Tribe.

Warnings: bdsm, d/s dynamics, enthusiastic consent, preestablished safeword etc, dom!din djarin x sub!reader, soft din djarin, din djarin is a good dad, vaginal sex, communication, major life decisions, author plays god with the timelines (sorry), canon adjacent?, canon divergence?, no use of y/n, tooth-rotting fluff, they deserve it, you deserve it

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

9 ABY - Winter

“Alor,” Din says, bowing his head.

“Din Djarin,” she says. “You have an aruetti with you.”

You’ve known her for twenty seconds, and you’re in awe. Her voice is strong and unwavering, demanding attention. And, respectfully, she looks badass. You had never seen another Mandalorian, and from what Din had told you, you assumed they all looked similar.

But she looks every inch a queen.

“She wants to swear the Creed,” Din says.

The Armorer gives you her full attention now, having only spared you a glance before. “Does she wish to speak for herself?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s true. I would like to learn to walk the way of the Mand’alor, if you’ll have me.” You try to keep your spine straight and your head up, not to hide away from the appraising stare.

“Hmm,” she turns her helmet back to Din. “Is this the hunter you spoke of before?”

“Yes, alor. She is a very skilled and honorable fighter.”

“Well,” you interrupt, face heating from his praise. “I don’t know about skilled. I’m not formally trained, but I’d be honored to really learn.”

They both look at you now, and you wish you hadn’t spoken. But if you’re going to do this, you know you can’t allow cowardice to rule any part of you anymore.

And you want this. With or without Din. You’re surprised a little, now that you’re here, and it’s a real possibility, by the ferociousness of your desire.

The first choice you had ever really made for yourself was asking him to work with you. The second was leaving him.

This will be the defining moment for the rest of your life, you think.

She nods. “It is settled. You will continue on your quest to Corvus,” she says to Din. “You,” she turns, “will remain here and train. When he returns, you will be ready to begin an apprenticeship to earn your beskar’gam.”

“I can train her,” Din says, shifting uncomfortably. He didn’t imagine you’d be separated. Not when he’d only just gotten you back.

“No. Paz will train her. You will continue on your mission in the morning.”

Din doesn’t like it. You don’t need him to say it; it’s written in the sharp lines of his shoulders and tapping of his thumb against his thigh. You catch his anxious hand and thread your fingers between his, bringing it up to your lips.

“It’ll be okay,” you say. You’re back on the Crest, though they had offered you both lodging. But given that they were living in a small cave system, there wasn’t likely to be any privacy. And you really wanted some privacy.

Din sighs but uses your linked hands to tug you into his lap. You settle with your thighs spread over him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You press your forehead to his helmet. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

He doesn’t say it, but you know he’s remembering that you promised last time, too. His arms wrap around your waist, bare hands skimming up the back of your shirt.

Even his touch feels sad, so you go in for the kill. “I love you, Din.”

His grasp tightens, the sudden press of his nails drawing a gasp from you. “I love you too, cyare.”

Hearing you say it still makes his heart catch on something sharp and intoxicating. Even after the day you left Batuu, when he finally fucked you in the bunk on the Crest again, right where you belonged, and you had sobbed it over and over while he teased you for hours.

He thinks maybe you need a repeat of that to hold you over while he’s gone. When he says as much, you shudder and rock your hips against him.

“Actually,” he says, sliding his hands to your hips. “You just keep doing that for now.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re practically panting. You’ve shifted so your aching cunt is dragging over the armor on his right thigh, hands clenched in his cowl while you whine.

“What a little slut,” he muses. “Look at you. So desperate you’d fuck anything, huh?”

You shake your head.

“No? If I told you to go get yourself off on the edge of the table, would you do it?”

“Fuck,” you gasp. “Yes, sir.”

“So I’m right, then.”

“No. Wouldn’t f-fuck anything. Just anything you want.”

He moans, hips pushing up and jostling you.

You try to take advantage of it and shift to rub against his crotch, but he tightens his grip and laughs. “Nice try, sweetheart. But I know you’re always desperate for my cock. I want to see you crying to cum just from this.”

He gets his wish soon. You’re already on the edge of begging, and his words just make it worse. “Please,” you whine. “Please just let me have it.”

He withdraws a hand from your shirt and smacks your ass. “I gave you an answer.”

“Ah, fuck, please.”

He can sense the shift in your tone. “Please what, cyar’ika?”

“Please, more.”

Instead of teasing you, he simply shifts you over his lap. He makes sure your cunt can still grind against the edge of his armor before he yanks your pants down over your ass and gives it a hard slap.

“This what you wanted?” He asks, striking you again.

“Yes, please, sir,” you cry, squirming and digging your hands around his calf to hold steady.

He delivers a few more blows and pauses to rub a soothing hand where your skin is already hot. “You beg so prettily. Do it again.”

And there it goes. He grins, feral behind the helmet, as fat tears well up and spill over onto your cheeks.

“Please, please hit me. Please, I’ve been so good. I want to be good.”

He hits hard enough this time that you have to bite your hand to swallow the scream. “You are good,” he murmurs between strikes. “You’re my good girl. I’ve got you.”

He spanks you until the tears run dry. By that time, you’re not squirming or struggling in his grasp. You’ve calmed, floating away in the safety of his cruel, caring hands. Your breathing is deep and easy, though he knows you’re awake by the soft moans.

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” he says, tugging you up by the hair. “Get down and clean it up.”

When you sink to your knees, he can see the faraway look in your eyes and soft contentment in the slight upturn of your lips. You lean forward and obediently lick his thigh plate clean of your arousal, eyes on him the whole time.

“Fuck, pretty girl. C’mere, I need your cunt.”

He’s not sure you’ve ever been this deep in subspace before. You don’t jump and scramble to obey, but lick your lips clean and slowly climb up into his lap, holding onto his shoulders carefully as he peels your pants off the rest of the way. You watch as he pulls his cock out with glazed eyes and an open, aching mouth.

He considers letting you suck it for a moment, given how you’re looking at him like a sweet to be devoured. But he runs a finger through your dripping folds, and the low keen it draws from you changes his mind.

You scoot forward when he taps your leg, looking right into the visor as you hover over him.

He gives you a nod, and you sink down slowly, shoulders curling back and eyes rolling closed as you take your fill. He brings a hand up to your neck, and you lean your head back, arching to give him better access.

There are no words to be said, now. No teasing or taunting, no begging or crying. He tightens the hand around your throat when he starts to fuck up into you, his other hand holding you steady by the hip.

Your lips part, tingling as he slowly cuts off the blood flow. Soft, wavering gasps leak out, but you couldn’t make a sound if you wanted to. He brings his other hand to your face and slides his thumb into your open mouth.

You close your lips around it, trying to suck even though it feels like you’re struggling for air. He curls the other fingers around your jaw, releasing your throat only to drag that hand down to your clit and start to unravel you.

You whine when he pulls his thumb from your mouth, only for it to stutter when he pinches your nipple between his finger and the wet digit. He tugs on it, his breath catching as you arch and press your chest into his hand, not to run from the pain but to offer more, more, more. To pour yourself out in his basin and let him soak you up as he pleases.

It’s a gift he could never refuse, so he lets up on his soft strokes to your clit and indulges in the soft moans and sweet cries you make when he torments your breasts, and the way you get tighter and wetter around him.

A particularly cruel pinch finally tears a plea from you on a whisper.

“Yes,” he growls, and holds you to him through your climax by the tight clamp of his fingers on your nipples. The pain that blossoms when you jerk against his grip uncontrollably pushes you into a second orgasm from the crest of the first.

“Fuck yes, give it to me. Give me everything,” he huffs, bucking into your spasming cunt. When your cries turn a little sharp, he eases up and rubs his thumbs soothingly over your aching nipples before pulling you against his chest.

You cling onto him, face buried in his cowl as he bounces you, cock buried deep with each staccato thrust.

After he fills you, he keeps you there, seated on his cock, with his cum slowly leaking as he softens. He cups your head where it rests against him and savors the way the silent ship is filled with peace.

You’re blinking sleepily, but he doesn’t have the willpower to move to the bunk, content to stay here on the bench with you dozing in his arms.

Your bodies regret it in the morning, but it’s hard to care when the warmth and safety overpower the aches in your neck and back. You share a rinse in the refresher, chaste until it isn’t. After the kid wakes up, you play with him for a few minutes until the sun is finally breaking the horizon, and you know you have to go.

Din offers to walk you in, to stay until you’re settled, but you shake your head. At the top of the ramp, you stop him with a hand to his chest. You slide both hands up to his shoulders, and he settles his on your waist, bringing your foreheads together.

While he’s distracted with the kiss, you unlatch his cloak from around his shoulders. He pulls back, head tilted.

“What’re you up to?”

You grin, folding your prize in your arms. “Just helping myself to a blanket.”

He laughs and pulls you in close, savoring the feeling and hoping it holds him over until he can return.

“Be safe,” you whisper, trying not to tear up.

“Kick Paz’s ass,” he whispers back.

It works. The laughter chases away your sadness, and you press a kiss to his helmet before turning to walk down the ramp.

When you get to the mouth of the cavern, you turn and wave. Din has the baby in his arms, both of them waving back as the ramp raises.

You thought it would be harder. But you smile while you watch the Crest ascend. Your chest feels tight but warm, and you turn to face your new adventure.

Three Weeks Later

You’re sitting on the floor of the large cavern, the sandy floor cushioning your aching tailbone. Your flightsuit is drenched in sweat beneath the weighted flak vest you’ve been living in.

Technically, Paz said to wear it during training, but you’ve been trying to acclimate to what life will be like with armor. He hasn’t commented, but you think he approves of your choice.

His booming voice echoes in the chamber. “Two minutes and we begin again.”

You nod, still trying to regulate your breathing. You sip carefully from the canteen and wonder, as you do with every spare moment, how Din and the baby are. If they’ve found a Jedi. Or a jetii, you suppose.

“What does cyar’ika mean?” you say suddenly. Paz has been teaching you Mando’a while you train, but it hasn’t occurred to you to ask.

You would have rather asked Din, but you forgot your commlink on the Crest. It’s made the days a little harder than you anticipated.

Paz laughs. Your face and ears burn, and you wish you hadn’t said anything.

“Is that what my vod calls you?” he says.

“Sometimes.” You do not like the tone of his voice.

“I’m not laughing at you, vod’ika. Just at how soft he’s gone.”

You scowl.

“It means sweetheart,” he finally explains.

You burn even hotter.

“What about cyare?” You ask, turning your humiliation into determination. And your brain backpedals. “Vod’ika?”

“Cyare is the base for cyar’ika. What do you think it means?”

“Oh! So… I’m going to guess ‘big sweetheart’ isn’t it. It’s like a more serious nickname?’”

“Exactly. It’s probably closest to ‘beloved.’ And then vod’ika would be…?”

“Little brother? Or, well, little sister?”

“Very good,” he says. His praise warms you, but in a much different way than Din’s.

You think back over the words. “Oh,” you say.

“What?”

You hadn’t meant to be speaking to Paz or out loud at all. “You called me vod’ika.”

Somehow, you find that more surprising than the revelation that Din has been calling you his beloved.

“Yes,” he says.

“I haven’t sworn the Creed yet.”

“No matter. You will. And Djarin is my vod, no matter how irritating he is, so anyone who is to be his riduur is my vod, too.”

“Riduur?”

“Spouse. Wife,” he says.

That slows your brain like molasses. “I don’t know about that,” you say with a forced chuckle.

“Regardless. You’re doing well and will make a strong addition to our tribe. This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” you can’t help but agree.

“Enough resting. Pick up your weapon,” he says gruffly, readying himself to spar with you once more.

You grab the bevii’ragir and use it to pull yourself to your feet.

It’s late afternoon when your lesson is interrupted.

“I call next challenger.”

You turn immediately to the voice like a flower to the sun, grinning and dodging Paz’s spear.

Din meets you halfway and pulls you to him. You slide your arms under his to wrap up around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his beskar’ta before burying your face in his cowl.

“You take good care of my girl, vod?”

“Your girl can take care of herself,” Paz rumbles, suddenly close. He puts a hand on Din’s shoulder near where you’re clinging to him and shakes a little before pulling back.

“Yeah, she can,” Din says, voice thick with adoration. You lift your head to meet his and realize the next time you do this, the next time you share a mirshmure’cya, you’ll be in a helmet.

As if he can tell what you’re thinking, he asks if you’re ready. He’s addressing you, but Paz answers.

“She’s been ready. You’re late.”

Din watches the hopeful smile blossom across your face. Not the one that makes him want to grab you by the shoulders and beg you to stop being surprised by being loved, but one that tells him you might just be starting to understand.

“Did you go easy on him, ner kar’ta?” he teases, thrilled to be rewarded by your laugh.

He leaves your side only to go collect Grogu from the Armorer, who was fitting him with beskar chainmail forged from the spear he brought home.

They find you on the shore after. The kid toddles over excitedly, eager to show off his new, shiny shirt. You coo over it and praise him, but the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

He sits down next to you, watching as Grogu torments the tiny, shimmering purple fish in the shallows. “You know,” he starts.

“I’m not changing my mind,” you interrupt. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous, but I want this. It’s… it’s a good fear, I think.”

“Spoken like a true Mandalorian,” he says. “Courage can’t exist without fear.”

“You sound like him when you say that,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, helmet to the sky for a moment. “We did grow up together.”

“I know. He said you were a parasite that never left him alone.”

“I should have come home faster. Leaving you with him was a mistake,” he grumbles. He fills you in about the village, then. About Elsbeth and Ahsoka Tano. About her refusal to train Grogu.

“She can’t train him because he loves you too much? That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I don’t want to be an obstacle for him.”

“He’s a baby! He needs a father far more than he needs whatever lonely life they live.”

He loves the sentiment. He does. But you both know he’ll continue on this quest until it’s completed, one way or another. And you know you’ll follow him wherever it takes him.

At dusk, as you kneel in the shallows, the pull of the gentle waves sink you into the sand bit by bit. It’s not a long ceremony; it’s perfectly Mandalorian in its succinct and practical nature. But you can feel the heaviness. It pulls you down faster than the water, and you let it fill the gaps between the sinew of your ribcage.

When your alor places the helmet upon you, the first things you see through your new eyes are Din and the baby, waiting for you to come back to shore.

“This is gonna take some getting used to,” you say as you shift around, trying to figure out the right arrangement of pillows to support your neck in spite of the helmet.

“What if it didn’t have to?” Din says.

“What do you mean?”

“Marry me.”

You sit up and turn to face him. “You're serious?”

He sits up and switches on the light. “Completely.” For the first time, he has no idea what you’re feeling or thinking. You’re holding very still but without seeing your face… this must be how you felt all this time.

“You’re serious,” you whisper. Your modulator barely picks it up.

“I am. Marry me, cyare.”

“Okay.”

“‘Okay’? That’s it?”

You roll your eyes, but it doesn’t translate. You haven’t adapted to exaggerating your body language yet. “Yes, Din. Of course.”

“Right now.”

“Right now?!”

“Did Paz teach you anything about riduurok?”

“Just that it means marriage.”

“I ask him to do one thing,” he grumbles.

“Hang on, what? You asked Paz to teach me about Mandalorian marriages?”

“Yes, that shabuir.”

“Oh. You—you actually planned this,” you say. “This isn’t impulsive. You planned on proposing to me in bed.”

“I planned on proposing to you once we were home. You’re the one who went to bed right away.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, right now. Marry me right now.” You can’t believe you’re saying it. Or maybe you can. Because it’s Din. It’s always been Din. “How does it work?”

“It’s just us. There are vows. And then, we share ourselves with one another. Then we can know each other completely.”

“Teach me.”

So he does. He shows you the words and their meanings; he shows you the ways he’s been giving you his heart and making room for yours.

You leave the words open on the datapad so you can see them. Somehow, you’ve ended up in his lap, inches from each other. The vows are easy, the decision so painfully obvious you don’t have a single doubt. The Mando’a tumbles from your lips slowly, in harmony with him.

Mhi solus tome. Of course you are one together. That’s never been a question.

Mhi solus dar’tome. It had been true even when it wasn’t. You were one while apart, if only in that you held each other in your hearts for all those years. But it had been enough.

Mhi me’dinui an. There wasn’t a thing between you left unshared now.

Mhi ba’juri verde. Din may have his doubts about Grogu’s future, but you know he loves him. Unconditionally, eternally. And maybe, someday, you’ll share that love with more.

You rip your helmet off without hesitation. It’s easy still, for you.

Later, you’ll grow accustomed to its heft and the way only your aliit can see the you beneath. Later, you’ll appreciate better what it takes for Din to do the same.

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “You saw me three hours ago.”

“You’re beautiful every time I see you.”

Your face burns, but you don’t have to be embarrassed for long. In fact, you stop thinking about it immediately as he raises his hands to the bottom of his helmet.

You squeeze your eyes shut automatically.

He sees you once he’s removed it and huffs a breath. “Cyare, open your eyes.”

“It feels wrong,” you say.

“Ner riduur. You are mine and I am yours. Please open your eyes.”

You do. Your heart is thundering, a painful clench in your chest. You lean back, cupping his face in your hands.

No words come. All you can do is stare, lips parted, greedily taking in every piece of him. Your fingers follow your eyes, brushing through his dark curls and tracing the curve of his cheek.

He’s barely breathing, staring up at you with big, beautiful brown eyes, wetness starting to well.

“Din,” you breathe.

“Hi,” he says softly, cheeks flushing.

You gasp, lips curling into a pleased grin. “You’re so cute when you blush.”

He’s never felt so unmoored. The flush spreads as he tries to bear your focus.

“I thought it would be weirder. To see your face,” you say, running a thumb over his chapped lips, fingers stroking the scruff of his chin. “Your helmet has always been you, to me. I was afraid this would be like seeing a stranger. But it’s not. I know you. Ni kar’tayli darasuum.”

He whispers it back, pressing a kiss to your thumb before leaning against the wall.

Your brow furrows, and you fix him with an outraged glare.

“What?” he asks, and you almost get distracted by the way his eyes widen and mouth opens with bewilderment.

“You used to call me ner kar’ta.”

“I still do.”

“No, I mean, you started calling me your heart so long ago.”

“You weren’t ready. But I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t change that it was true.” He sees the sadness creeping in and cups your cheek. “It was worth the wait, ner kar’ta. Would you like your gift now?”

You know he’s trying to distract you, but it works anyway. “A gift? For what?”

“For our riduurok, silly girl.”

It’s your turn to flush, ears burning. “That’s not fair. I didn’t know I was going to have a husband to get a gift for.”

He shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. A smile you can see. It’s a world-shattering feeling.

He rifles around for a moment and then offers you something shiny and very familiar.

The pauldron is unpainted silver, the same as his, with a mudhorn on the front. It’s shaped a little differently, a little longer and narrower. A better fit for your shoulder.

You reach out and run your fingers over the signet.

“Din,” you choke through the tight grip of your throat. “But… I didn’t earn it yet.”

“But I did. We’re a clan of three, now. As my riduur, this is yours to bear.”

You almost start to sob, but the tears are held off by a sudden realization.

“Did everyone know we were getting married but me?”

He shrugs. “Guess so.”

Your indignant laugh breaks into another sob, tears finally falling free.

He wipes them away with his thumbs, the pauldron abandoned on the bed. “Hey, save those tears for later,” he murmurs.

It has the desired effect. Your eyes widen, and your hips grind against him just a fraction. “You know how most people celebrate a marriage?”

“We aren’t most people, cyar’ika. We’re Mandalorians.”

It’s still weird to hear yourself referred to as a Mandalorian. But it sinks under your skin and spreads euphoria through your veins. It feels right, like your whole life you’ve been following a starmap to this moment.

“Well, how do we celebrate a marriage then?”

He smirks. “We fuck.”

“Right now?” you ask, making a show of batting your lashes and delighting in the way his eyes darken and lips part. “Please, sir?”

You could always sense the change, before. The way the air shifted. But it was another thing entirely to watch him become the predator. There’s a glint in his eye, a curve to his lips that wracks you with shivers.

His hand slides up to wrap around your throat. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to get fucked by your riduur? Going to let me take what’s mine?”

“Oh fuck,” you whisper. Your heart is pounding, and from the way his smirk grows, you know he can feel it under the clench of his fingers. They twitch a little tighter, and you’re already feeling lightheaded.

He eases up after a moment, withdrawing his hand just to bring it across your face in a harsh slap. “Have you forgotten how to be my good girl? Answer me when I speak to you.”

When you open your mouth to try, all that comes out is a moan. He slaps you again, grabbing you roughly by the throat after and pulling you closer.

“Yes,” you finally gasp, “yes, please, sir.”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me. Please take what’s yours.”

“And what’s mine to take?”

“Everything.”

His lips press against yours in a crash of teeth and flesh. He bites his way into your mouth, pushing you down on your back with the force of his kiss. Your legs are still wrapped around his hips and his cock presses against your panties.

“Wait,” he gasps into your mouth. “I have another gift.”

“Can’t it wait? Can’t you let me get you something first?”

“No, cyare, this isn’t a present for my riduur.”

“No?” Your voice has gone small, soft.

“No, sweetheart. It’s for my pretty little slut.”

You flush, and he sits up, reaching over to the shelf for a box. Inside is a thin chain that almost looks like beskar.

You watch him watch you with starving eyes, a hunger that seeps into your skin where his gaze lands. “But I like my collar,” you whisper.

“I know, I do too. This is a little different. It’s thin enough to lay under your cowl without being seen.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to wear it all the time. But when you want to, when you’ll let me have you outside of this, I’d like you to.”

It goes against that rule, your one big rule, from so long ago. Nothing outside the ship could come back in, and vice versa.

You find it doesn’t bother you, now. Not if you can have that little reminder, not if you can feel his love physically all the time.

You know he’d never take advantage, never try to control you in a fight. He didn’t need to, anyway, not with the way you moved and worked as one.

“Yes, sir.”

😭thank you, thank you, thank you, I love you. see you on dec. 21 for the Life Day Special ft. our favorite clan of three.

*title from "Set Phasers to Stun" by Taking Back Sunday

[burnwater13]

The Armorer speaking to Din Djarin and Paz Vizsla (out of frame) in the Mandalorian covert on Nevarro. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 3, The Sin. Calendar by DateWorks. Caption reads: When one chooses to walk the Way of the Mandalore, you are both hunter and prey. - The Armorer.

So who exactly was the Mand’alor? Grogu was pretty sure that he wasn’t the Mand’alor, but what about his dad? According to Bo-Katan, whoever won the Darksaber in battle was the new Mand’alor. But even though his dad had done that, she didn’t bow, or curtsey or even nod her head in his general direction. 

Then his dad had given it to her or let her keep it after that weird creature on Mandalore had attacked him and carried him away. Yes, Bo-Katan had defeated that creature, but so what. She had managed to pick up the Darksaber from the floor of the cavern. She used it as a tool to fight with, but it wasn’t like the creature was using it to fight her. 

And okay, even that transitive property of winning a fight with a person who won a fight with a person who had last handled the Darksaber was enough to make that legitimate ownership of the Darksaber, why was that even a way of becoming Mand’alor? That seemed kind of silly. The Armorer hadn’t even believed that was the proper way to become Mand’alor. If anyone was going to know, Grogu figured they would. 

But as Grogu thought back on the few interactions he’d had with the the talented beskar smith, he was pretty sure that she had never said anything about how a person actually became Mand’alor. Why was that? It seemed like a pretty important thing to know, particularly after they’d figured out that Mandalore the planet wasn’t just a glassified wasteland of a planet. 

“Buddy, the point is moot. Bo-Katan is Mand’alor because the Mandalorian people have proclaimed her to be Mand’alor. It’s as simple as that.”

Grogu hated it when his dad read his mind like he was some sort of Jedi. He knew that the people present on Mandalore had rallied around Bo-Katan because she had been the last Mand’alor and she’d led them into that battle with the Imps that no one knew were still on Mandalore. But of course, from his perspective, a lot of that happened because of his dad and the Armorer. None of it really had anything to do with the Darksaber. It was just a thing. What power did it actually have?

According to legend it had been made by Tarre Vizsla, a Jedi, who also happened to be Mandalorian. But how Mandalorian could he have been? The Jedi started training people at a very young age. It didn’t seem logical that they would have let any particular youngling maintain any sort of deep attachment to a home world when they didn’t let them maintain an attachment to their own family. Why would have Tarre Vizsla cared about them or made a lightsaber out of beskar? How would he have even gotten the beskar?

“Grogu, that was a long time ago and even Mandalorians don’t know the answers to those questions. How do you think a person should become Mand’alor?”

There was his dad again! Just butting right into his thoughts again.

“Buddy, in case you didn’t notice, you’ve been using the sign language the Sand People taught you to do all this ‘thinking out loud’. I couldn’t avoid understanding you.”

Grogu chirped a rather sharp rebuke to his dad. He could have closed his eyes and let Grogu rant in peace. But no, not his dad. Not ‘The Mandalorian, Din Djarin’. He couldn’t…

“Okay, kid. Maybe we should just head back to the ship. You seem pretty over stimulated already.”

His dad reached down to pick him up but Grogu dodged his hands quickly and reached out and grabbed the giant Mythosaur shaped lollypop that he’d been considering since they entered the candy shop that had opened right next door to the Cin Vhetin. This was the one piece of candy he wanted. He just hoped it worked.

“Grogu, I know the legend about the Mythosaur and I’m pretty sure that riding a Mythosaur shaped lollipop around New Sundari won’t make you Mand’alor. Sorry, buddy.”

Dank Farrik! His dad had figured him out. Grogu wanted to have a proper pout about that, as he’d learned Mand’alors were allowed to do that when things didn’t go perfectly their way, but that wasn’t going to happen. His dad was a Mandalorian and scooped him up, lollipop and all and went over to the proprietor of the shop. 

“Is that all the little one wants? No fire stacks or popping eggs?”

She spoke in Mando’a and Grogu was glad that he was able to keep up with her. He’d been practicing when his dad was asleep because according to Din Djarin his accent wasn’t perfect. Uff. 

“Nayc. He’s already pretty wound up about this one.”

She grinned at them both. Grogu liked her instantly. She had pretty green eyes. 

“Every one who hopes to become Mand’alor, children and adults, ask for this particular confection at least once. I’m sorry to say I have never seen it work, but there is no fault in wishing for it.”

Din Djarin sighed.

“Now, he’ll want to come here everyday to try again.”

Grogu laughed and nodded his head. He was definitely going to do that. 

“Perhaps you should ask him why he wants to be Mand’alor. Most of the children have a pretty simple reason for that wish.”

“What the heck. Grogu. Why do you want to be Mand’alor?”

Grogu signed his response as quickly as he could because he didn’t want his dad to stop him.

The Mandalorian shook his head. 

“Did you catch any of that?” 

“Not if you don’t want me to, but I will say that is a very popular sentiment among the foundlings who have returned. They would like to see the smiles and laugh lines and tears. They think that there’s no reason to hide now that they have been returned to Mandalore. Perhaps they are right.”

“Perhaps they are.”

Grogu sighed and let his dad think that was the last word they would have on the subject for the time being. As long as Din Djarin understood that someday soon he could take off that helmet and let Grogu see those brown eyes again Grogu could wait patiently. Eventually he’d ride a real Mythosaur and his dad couldn’t deny him because he’d be Mand’alor for real.

[fanfoolishness]

What's holding Din back?

I sat down to try and write some fic for the new season, but so far, I'm fresh out of ideas for Din... mainly because I'm unclear of what's going on in his head these days.

On the surface, he has everything he could possibly want.

Grogu is back with him! Din was clearly thrilled to have him back in their reunion in TBoBF, and his pride for Grogu shines through in all of their interactions.

He has the Darksaber! It's been liberated from a non-Mandalorian enemy, and is back safely in Mandalorian hands.

With the help of his ally Bo-Katan, he's bathed in the Living Waters of the Mines of Mandalore and been redeemed in the eyes of his people, who have accepted him back with open arms and no further questions on his transgressions. Even better, Bo-Katan has joined his covert as a skilled warrior he respects. The Armorer is treating Grogu as one of their people, and Din is even getting along with Paz Viszla.

So why do things feel off?

Paz Viszla, who has the emotional range of a brick, explains to Din (possibly his least favorite fellow Mandalorian) that the foundling they are seeking to rescue is his son. Bo-Katan calls Din Grogu's Dad in all of their conversations. Grogu is trying his best to learn to talk, and Dad is an extremely reasonable guess for one of his first words.

Din... calls himself Grogu's ward. Not his dad, his guardian, his father. Just ward, an archaic word for protection. Grogu is a foundling. Not his foundling.

Why?

And why does he struggle so badly with the Darksaber? We've only seen him use it a few times; the only time that barely approached competence was when he used it on Tatooine, but even on sacred Mandalore itself, his mind focused on redemption and the history of his people, it would not obey him. The Armorer told him the Darksaber responds to his mind and its distractions. Why would he be distracted then, on his path to achieve his goal to honor his Mandalorian culture? Will we see next week that he's suddenly super proficient with it? It's possible, but I doubt it -- otherwise, why make such a big deal of his incredible skill in other areas contrasted with his clumsiness with the Darksaber? I really hope they're going somewhere interesting with this.

...Just like I wish this meta was going somewhere. But I can't get it there because I genuinely don't know what's wrong with him. Why can't he claim Grogu as his own after everything? Is that why he struggles with the Darksaber, because he's not accepting fatherhood? Why wouldn't he? Fear, memories of trauma... what could it be?

Talk me through it, folks. Reblog with your theories or ideas and help me figure this out!

(Of course, bad or inconsistent writing could certainly be the explanation for all of this, it is Star Wars after all and we all know it ain't that deep. But for the sake of argument, let's pretend that's off the table, haha!)

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Mandalorian daycare lmao… they trying to infiltrate Nevarro to grow their numbers lmao.

FR tho the real winner here for Grogu being absent is Ragnar. If Grogu saw him at daycare it would be s3 ep4 all over again but this time it’s personal…… I have no doubt at some point reader walks into either Paz v. Din or Ragnar v. Grogu dogfight. WAIT NO ALL FOUR- two grown men and two pint sized one all fighting a losing battle against their dignity

I like to imagine Paz and Din as these super intense and competitive soccer dads that can and will start a fist fight with one another mid-soccer game to settle the age old argument of 'my kid is better than your kid', and all the other parents try to avoid looking at in fear that if they accidentally make eye contact it will be taken as a form of challenge.

Meanwhile, Auntie Bo is just like:

[hinderr]

Okay, here's the thing about the finale (and s3 as a whole)

First of all I wanna say, 'good' and 'fun' dont necessarily have to come together. Something objectively 'bad' can still be fun! I know I had fun a bunch of times this season, so if you enjoyed it and you had fun, I'm happy for you, and I'm not tryna say that you're 'wrong' for it, I am genuinely happy for you

But here's the thing, I didnt have fun during the finale. It felt rushed and stupid and careless, like they just wanted it done and over with, dust their hands off

- they allowed din to escape capture IMMEDIATELY, before we got a chance to see what Gideon was going to do to him or WHY he had taken extra care to capture him. They had Grogu, instead, a child apparently break away from the group of 'Foundlings are the Future' Mandalorians to save his dad alone. What?

- Gideon sees Din and Grogu moving around in the command centre and puts his helmet on going 'I'll deal with them myself'. Gideon proceeds to NOT do anything until after they destroy his precious clones, in which he waits in the room AFTER to monologue. He's a villain, yeah, but he's not stupid like that

- there were SO many things they built up only to just immediately forgo. Din's interrogation. The Armourer (and her sickly passengers) being intercepted before reaching the fleet. And then solutions to the plot appear suddenly - R5 is there now, oh he's gone. It'd be fine if it was clever, but they werent

- bo-katan is mand'alor for like. The fifth time idek. NOTHING about her previous behaviour btw especially abt her behaviour to clones. Ive been giving her the benefit of doubt thinking she'd apologise or sumn before s3 ends but. Nothing. She's just nice now or whatever

- Gideon's death was STUPID and not at all gratifying. For a villain as complex as he was, who made din and grogu's life SO hard by hunting them down, to have him die the way he did feels weak

- Paz Vizsla. Nobody cares about Paz Vizsla apparently

- the whole thing with IG-11 and IG-12 was weird and wonky. Im glad 11 is back, but that era where Grogu was pupeteering what was essentially his corpse very much rubbed wrong

- the plant thing was stupid. 'They just need room to grow' and when people were living in domes there WASNT any?? Goddamn

- WHERE IS PERSHING??

The whole thing felt...uncared for, you know? Like they didnt care for the story they wrote, they just wanted cameo after cameo, 'ooh jack black ooh gideons wearing mando armour ooh ig-11 is a mech suit now' and then didnt even bother tying a ribbon, they just chucked the box on your doorstep. The characters felt ooc, namely Bo-Katan BUT ALSO Din Djarin himself. Thats not what Mando would do, became such a common sentiment while watching. And its so disappointing because they had all the potential!! It couldve been SO GOOD

I just. Sigh. I wish they cared, yknow?

[thewriterowl]

Imagine Cobb Vanth with a popular online ghost hunting show, starring his skeptic partner Boba Fett and their loud, bizarrely confrontational friend Paz Vizla; directed by Fennec and Exceedingly Reluctantly filmed by Din Djarin, talented photographer and Dad Who Just Wants a Dad Nap.

Enter Luke Skywalker, a hobbyist mechanic and disillusioned fortune teller who gained internet infamy by being repeatedly interviewed and mocked by ghost debunkers who, through creative editing, made this kind, earnest, gifted young man look like a delusional lunatic that believes he's "special."

Boba offers Luke a stupid amount of money to appear on his boyfriend's channel, so Luke reluctantly accompanies them to an abandoned hospital, where he has lost all fucks when it comes to making people think he isn't crazy, and uses his psychic abilities so nonchalantly and dismissively he's basically gaslighting the whole crew.

Cobb: What the fuck is that?!

Luke: *on the floor of the decayed children's ward, clearly rolling a ball back and forth with an invisible entity* What do you mean?

Boba: All our equipment is saying someone is here. We literally just heard a child say "Let's play, Luke."

Luke: *Now gently tossing a ball back and forth with the entity* That's wild, man.

(Din: You, uh... you look really pretty in this lighting.

Luke: You're too sweet! Also, your son definitely sees ghosts.

Din: What?

Luke: :)

Feralsunshine, you always have some of the best ideas. Cause this is so CUTE and fun!

Poor Luke ostracized when all he wanted was to help people and understand his strange abilities because people were jerks. Then he gets dragged into this growing in popularity show (Ryan and Shane!!) on youtube and is just trying to play it cool, trying not to take the attention, trying to just be "ah, yeah, this is....a thing" as spirits either try to just get his attention or are literally trying to steal him away to the Beyond.

And just him casually playing catch with something invisible and everyone is freaking out...except for Din who (is sorta used to it with his son who does weird things from time to time, isn't that normal???) is like dreamily sighing to himself as he continues to just film Luke and not the star of the show.

Cobb and Boba have to sit down and talk with him because, "my guy...this is sad."

Din doesn't get it...he just thinks Luke's very pretty as he talks with someone who isn't there but they keep getting really scary voices on recordings. Is it his fault?? No!

And oh, Luke was a different kid himself? Maybe he can talk to Grogu to help him feel better!

Everyone is trying to make him understand that Luke is an actual psychic, and so his is son, but Din just keeps trying to make dinner plans.

[eggdrawsthings]

Paz deserved so much better than to just be forgotten 😭 no mention at all from Din or even his own fucking son reacting. Where is the emotional payoff?? If you ever draw some soft Paz dad with Ragnar content I’ll be forever grateful 🙏

YES EXACTLY!!! Why is his son, his brother, and most importantly his mom never said shit about him afterward. It makes his death seems unimportant somehow. And they didn't even mention any of the fallen soldiers in the war either, even tho they established that the Mandalorians value respect and sacrifice so much it's literally in the Creed what the hell???? I'm currently stuck in the Jedi: Survivor hell and rushing both my school work and commissions so idk when I'll have time to draw more brainrot shit, but I do wanna draw sth for Paz and Ragnar again so we'll see haha (even tho drawing Paz's armor gave me a fucking headache like literally)

[thevibraniumveterans]

《The Mandalorian》 『SEASON 3 : Episode 7 - Chapter 23』 - 「THE SPIES」 // Finale Part 1 of 2

SPOILERS!

Thoughts on rewatch…

Kane being an insider is not surprising. She was always suspicious.

The mention of Grand Admiral Thrawn is by no means a mistake, in light of the Ahsoka trailer at Star Wars Celebration. He’s mentioned quite a few times in this conversation between the Imperials in the room via Hologram. And he is currently somewhere out there, wherever Ezra Bridger might be; which will perfectly lead up to the Ahsoka series.

The mention of Commandant Brendol Hux is no surprise either; he’s gotta be General Hux’s dad, which partially explains how Hux came to be in the First Order in the Sequel Trilogy.

Project Necromancer - no secret code name, it’s for bringing Palpatine back to life. Ian McDiarmid pointed out at Star Wars Celebration 2023 that Palpatine does not like to lose; he will do anything possible to win, even if that means coming back from the dead once again. The mention that Thrawn is “missing” and the Imperials needing “new leadership”obviously points to the inevitable reanimation of Palpatine. “Somehow, Palpatine returned”. Yes, somehow, because the rebels and the New Republic did not know. That was how secretive it was, but we know now how that’s coming along. It’s all falling into place.

The Watch’s light cruiser having the Mythosaur’s logo on the underside of their ship reminds me of how Thrawn also had/has the logo of a Chimaera on his ship. Because what else do you do with a ship that big and when you claim it as your own? You draw a big-ass symbol on the underside of it, that’s what.

It’s also a tad funnier that the Anzellan feels more like a puppet because of the way it looks and moves, as opposed to Grogu, who feels more realistic. But hey, puppets, so.

Grogu repeatedly hitting the yes and no buttons is hilarious! And the fact that he’s hitting it NONSTOP as they walk through the town center is extra funny. Also, Grogu picking up a Meiloorun fruit is by no means an accident; this is foreshadowing the Ahsoka series, since the fruit was first seen in Rebels and also the last time it was seen before this episode.

Bo-Katan speaks up and makes a plan. And it’s not surprising that at first nobody speaks up; but it isn’t until Din “I didn’t want to be here but here I am so I might as well” Djarin offers to join her, that Koska Reeves says she will go too. Only after she has spoken, Axe agrees to go, and so does Paz Vizsla. It’s something that reunites them. The music as they head off-planet is beautifully haunting and confident.

The drop hatch in Bo’s ship opens, and the volunteers look down on the planet they once called home. They shake their head in horror and dismay at what’s left. It’s… really something, to feel secondhand dread and sorrow.

Din spots something in the distance; Bo realizes it’s the Nite Owls, the group she once used to be a part of. But how did she know, and why? They have nothing but a weathered and worn ground transport.

The captain of the Nite Owls recognize Bo and refer to her full title as Lady Bo-Katan Kryze. They do not forget that she was and remains Mandalorian royalty.

During the dinner on the ground transport boat, the captain spoke of the refusal to give up, but Bo drops a verbal and historical bombshell on the entire party: she had to surrender under the choices given to her, in that if she did, her people would be spared. She surrendered, but as the Empire is wont to do, they didn’t care and bombed her world anyway. She did what she thought was the right thing to do, she did what she thought she had to do to save her people, but it still didn’t end right. Bo isn’t usually one for diplomacy and talks for peace - that was her sister Satine’s specialty. However, because Bo did what she thought was right, it still wasn’t right. And she knew this, even if if it was “the only chance” to save her people, according to her. It was her mistake and she owes up to it. She screwed over big time in trying to do what she thought best for her people. What would have happened had she not surrendered? Would she have died earlier?

The captain brings up Death Watch - the very same terrorist splinter group who opposed the peacekeepings of Duchess Satine Kryze. The Armorer notes how “Death Watch exists no longer.”

Bo states, “Our people have suffered time and time again. From division and squabbling factions.��� I feel like she is in part referring to how differences between her and her sister Satine - war vs peace - have driven them apart, and now that Satine has long been murdered and gone, it’s caused Bo nothing but pain and loneliness. It’s driven the Mandalorians nowhere but apart. “It is always our own division that destroys us” is a very powerful and deeply regretful statement that Bo makes.

Bo admits her mistake. She is by no means perfect; she’s lost everything, and part of it by her own hubris. “I was selfish. And this is what it wrought,” she laments. When Din speaks to her, she admits to not knowing if she is able to keep the Mandalorians from splintering like they always did. It’s a very heavy duty, weighed down with much sorrow and regret.

Din speaks of the Darksaber: “I only know of this weapon what you taught me. To be honest, it means nothing to me or my people. Nor does station or bloodline. What means more to me is honor. And loyalty. And character. These are the reasons I serve you, Lady Kryze. Your song is not yet written. I will serve you until it is.” The thing about the Darksaber is that what we know of it from the Clone Wars and Rebels is that whosoever wields the blade gets to rule Mandalore, via bloodline and station. Seems like only the Mandalorian royals have held this blade for ages. However, Bo is a princess with a ravaged planet, unsure of leading a fractured people who have never once known peace. Din respects her not because she is a princess, but because of who she is as a person. He sees a loyal warrior who does not want to give up despite all signs pointing to how and why she should. She’s lost everything and deserves nothing yet here she stands on her own two feet, against the world and many more to come. Her story we know but little of, and the fact that Din knows her story is really only just beginning says a lot about her as a Mandalorian herself. Mandalorians do not quit, that much we know.

It feels bright and upbeat and deceptively confident when the series theme music plays as the crew set of in search of the Great Forge.

The fight between Paz and Axe is a foreshadow. And it’s funny that Grogu stops the fight before it gets worse, as he’s technically not a Mandalorian so he’s from “neither” side and so, he could step in. Hilarious how a child can stop two grown men from punching each other’s daylights out.

The Mythosaur emerges! And I like how it serves as an incentive for the Mandalorians to go further into their former civilization.

When the Imperials come in with their jetpacks, the first thing I thought of was that little mini-arc in Rebels where Sabine was revealed to have created some tech for the Empire that had something to do with the Mandalorian beskar armor, whereupon she was like “yeah I did that but I must destroy that tech because it’s bad even though I did it when was in the Academy”

I thought it was cool when the theme song played as Din brought up the back of the war party, and advanced to the front of it, charging headfirst into battle, with Paz and Bo right behind him.

Din is captured and disarmed, and Moff Gideon states, “Thanks to your planet’s rich resources, I have created the next-generation Dark Trooper suit forged from Beskar alloy.” The fact that he says “next-generation” implies that there was a previous generation to begin with. Aka, Sabine’s technology for the Empire that had something to do with Beskar. I don’t know if this is true or false.

Gideon also says, “By aggregating the best of each [cloners, Jedi], I will create an army that will bring order to the galaxy”. That is part of the groundwork for the beginnings of the First Order.

Bo creates a diversion, an escape route, and Paz leads the way out, firing his gatling gun-type blaster cannon like a man with nothing else to lose. He fires repeatedly, and ignores Bo’s orders. His final sacrifice is noble and is no less what is expected of a Mandalorian like him.

The appearance of the Praetorian Guards are no surprise. We last saw them in TLJ, very efficient warriors and guardsmen. Makes sense that they be brought out to bring down the last Mandalorian standing in the room. They waste little energy and leave as quickly as they enter.

========

Finishing thoughts:

I like how this episode went. With the multiple mentions of Thrawn and Hux, the intentional integration of a Meiloorun fruit, and the mention of “next-gen” beskar armor, I really would not be surprised if Thrawn and/or Ezra and/or Ahsoka and/or Sabine make an appearance toward the end of next week’s finale, given the trailer for Ahsoka from Celebration weekend.

Also not surprising that Pedro Pascal and Katie Sackhoff are top-billed this episode. The rest get “co-starring” credits.

One interesting feature is a concept art in the credits showing all the Mandalorians by the fire, and Din and Bo are speaking to each other, his hand on her shoulder. This scene was never in the show. But the overall concept art is amazing in terms of scale, lighting, and detail.

We still have one more episode to go. Emily Swallow, who portrays The Armorer, spoke with Collider during the Lucasfilm panel at Celebration. When asked what she thought fans would think of next week’s finale, she had this to say: “Well, I think there are gonna be some people who are like 'Woohoo! Yeah!'' and some people were like 'I hate this!' this because there always are.” I can’t wait until next week to find out what that is.

[gildeddlily]

absolutely loved the series, but the best thing about The Mandalorian? the found family. the I'm-fucking-everywhere-and-ready-to-make-you-cry found family. the best thing about that people is the foundlings-are-the-future creed. and it's so heartwarming to everyone who has kind of a shitty relationship with their parents, because the concept of loving some random kid and taking them in, being their parent an supporter is the most beautiful thing in the world. way better than any biological relationship. loving them, choosing them cause you love them, and I'm so glad that Paz's interactions with his son (he's a foundling, back off with your biological child theories where the hell did he found the time to have a tenish yo kid) were so warm and fond, cause even the big scary mandalorian with more weapons on him than fingers is a good dad, even the I-hate-the-protagonist guy loves his son. and it's so- it makes me cry. I'm babbling at this point but a single edit ab grogu and din is capable of worse

[wantonlywindswept]

Good Dad Paz ficlet

i;’m fukkin. sobbing. apparently all i needed to write was an episode of mandalorians being DADS and loving their kids who knew

Post 3.1 canon divergence, Paz decides to go after Din on his epic roadtrip to Mandalore. din is sir not appearing in this ficlet

Mando’a I decided didn’t have an acceptable substitute in English that vibed:

alor: title indicating a leader

---

The day after Din left, when the Armorer reminded them that redemption could only be achieved through the Living Waters, Paz's first thought was, 'What kind of fool would go to a poisoned planet?'

His second thought was the horrifying realization that Din was absolutely that kind of fool.

Then Paz immediately started packing, because apparently so was he.

"Do you go to aid him, or to dissuade him?" the Armorer asked, standing on the landing pad below as he shoved supplies into the battered Z-95 Headhunter. It had taken another day just to requisition the ship, waiting for its return from offworld while Din's trail grew ever colder. The covert only had a few ships available and most were constantly in use; Paz's decision to requisition the starfighter had not been looked upon kindly.

"When has he ever done anything but what he wanted?" he grunted, wedging his assault cannon into the space behind the Headhunter's seat. He'd scrounged together enough supplies to last him a week, pulled mostly from his own reserves, and had items for barter stowed away should he make landfall on a populated planet. 

"He is an apostate," the Armorer pointed out, "Which makes him no longer our concern."

"He's an idiot," Paz countered, "And he'll get both himself and his child killed if he goes to that cursed planet."

He finished stowing the last of his supplies and jumped down, landing heavily in front of her. She regarded him silently as he straightened.

"Do I have permission to leave, alor?" he asked stiffly. 

Paz wasn't sure what he would do if she said no. He hadn't really thought that far ahead: a common failing of his, to do things without first thinking them through. He approached life fists first and blasters second, and most problems were solved through judicial application of one or the other.

That method never had really worked on Din, though, no matter how much they tried it with each other.

The Armorer considered him a few moments longer before inclining her head, and Paz felt just a moment of relief before she spoke again.

"Do you agree with Din Djarin's choice?"

He blinked.

"Alor?"

"Had it been your child in danger," the Armorer enunciated, "Would you have removed your helmet as he did?"

Paz stiffened. His gaze darted past her, to the edge of the landing pad, where Ragnar waited patiently to say goodbye.

Paz hadn't known, on Glavis, why Din had removed his helmet. All he'd felt was anger - not unusual, when it came to Din - and stomach-churning envy - also not unusual - from seeing the Darksaber finally returned to Mandalorian hands. Hands that weren't a Vizsla's, for all that Paz thought the damned thing was cursed. Hands that didn't understand what they held; hands that were, in the end, not Mandalorian at all.

And that had been the sharpest cut, a grieving wound reopened: to realize that one of his brothers, returned from the dead, hadn't actually been returned to him at all. 

Paz now owed Din a life debt; that was not in question. Din had saved his son, and Paz would repay that a hundred times over, a thousand times over, knowing that Ragnar lived because of his actions. He would protect Din's child or protect the fool himself, would walk on the surface of a death-trap of a planet and follow Din wherever he needed to go, because that was the least the man was owed for saving his child.

What wouldn't Paz do for his son?

The Armorer waited for his response, hands clasped in front of her. 

Paz looked away.

"I think," he said quietly, "That neither of us would like the answer to that question."

The Armorer said nothing. After a moment she turned to walk back into the caves; Paz let out a low breath and wondered if he, too, might need the absolution of the Living Waters.

Ragnar scampered over once it was clear that departure was imminent, and Paz didn't have to force a smile as he knelt down, gathering the boy into his arms as he barreled into him. 

"You're leaving now?" Ragnar asked, only a hint of a pout in his voice. He'd come a long way from the shaking, anxious boy that Paz had found, blossoming in the safety of the covert's care and Paz's own gentle guidance. "To find the Hunter?"

"To fulfill a debt," Paz agreed. 

Ragnar made an unhappy noise.

"It should be mine," he said, not for the first time. "It's my life that was saved, I should be the one with the life debt. I can pay it!"

Paz chuckled, leaning down to press their foreheads together, beskar connecting in a quiet singing note.

"You're still too young, and unless I go after him now, there will be no Hunter to repay. You are my foundling, and it is my place and privilege to take care of you. Understand?"

Ragnar sighed, and grumbled, and leaned back just so that he could tap their helmets together again.

"This is the Way," he agreed morosely.

Paz smiled and chucked him gently under the chin.

"This is the Way."

--

pt 2

[the-kittylorian-writes]

✨ Ragnar’s Creature Feature Adventure✨

Hello everybody! Meet Ragnar! He is Paz Vizsla’s son. Maybe he’s a foundling too, just like Grogu.

He’s got a helmet on because he just swore the Creed. But when he was just about done with the ceremony on his induction day, a DINOSAUR TURTLE nearly grabbed him with its huge jaws!!

Good thing Uncle Din and Grogu saved the day!

But things weren’t always sunshine and daisies with Uncle Din and Grogu. One day, Ragnar was faced with darts training with Grogu! It seemed like Uncle Din wanted to teach him a lesson. What’s worse, when he lost to Grogu (he JUMPS!!!! But he’s so LITTLE!!!), his dad Paz thought that Ragnar needed the lesson as well. What a bummer. So Ragnar decided to mope a little but when all of a sudden…

He got snatched up by a RAPTOR who was going to feed him to her Raptor babies!

What a nightmare!!! Ragnar had to stay in the Raptor mom’s food pouch for a night! EWWWW! But then, Ragnar heard his Dad Paz’s voice just when he thought he was going to be Raptor lunch! DAD RESCUED HIM!!

Actually, it was more of Uncle Din and Aunt Bo-Katan and some of dad’s cool friends, but the point was: Ragnar was back home with Dad!

Then stuff happened.

✨✨✨✨ time passes harp music✨✨✨✨✨

A few weeks later, it turned out that Dad and Uncle Din and all the other tough soldier grown-ups had fought a real awesome battle on a planet called Nevarro, and as payment, they have a new home back on Nevarro! Well, Dad said they lived on Nevarro before but it was a real sucky experience. There was decent plumbing, at least.

Anyway, now that the Covert would probably be an Overt (???) since they’ll be able to live out in the open (Uncle Din said so), what new adventures await?

Grandpa Greef mentioned about a…

Uh-oh.

Is that a REPTAVIAN?!

Goodness gracious!! Is there no place safe anymore??

Well, Dad said it was the Outer Rim so safety is like… non-existent. But some places can be safer than others, Ragnar guessed.

Grandpa Greef even had a totally cool and thrilling story to tell about how a Reptavian took a swipe at him and he nearly died! But guess what? Grogu had saved his life! He’s a magic baby! ✨✨✨

Ragnar thought Grandpa Greef was exaggerating. At least the magic baby part.

There’s NO WAY Ragnar would cross paths with a Reptavian! Why does he attract disaster? Dad says it’s all part of being Mandalorian. Ragnar loves his Dad so he doesn’t argue.

Sigh.

And then time passes again!!

✨✨✨✨✨✨ time lapse take back Mandalore on speedrun ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

UH-OH.

NOT AGAIN!!!

Is that a MYTHOSAUR?!?!

Dad told Ragnar that Mythosaurs are just… well, myths! But it turns out that the Mythosaur is real!!! Ragnar thinks that they should just rename it REALOSAUR. Why all this false advertising? Sigh again.

All that Ragnar could think of was this:

All these CREATURES! Ragnar thought again. Are there going to be any more by the time this is over? Dad said: Well, they’ll just have to tough it out. Because that’s what Mandalorians do!

This is the Way! ✨✨✨✨✨

[ahsoka-its-all-of-us]

Okay so FINALLY I have enough time to actually watch The Mandalorian S03E04

And imma scream about it now

So what now, is Bo-Katan actually gonna join the cult now?

BO-KATAN EMPATHISING WITH GROGU I LOVE IT

“Why doesn’t he wear a helmet?” I mean have you seen those ears???

Grogu looking back at Din for support and help ;-;

Ngl I do like this insight into the Covert’s workings

NO NOT ORDER 66 OH MY GOD THIS HURTS

Both for the Jedi and the clones ;-;

“You’ll grow into this” *hangs a piece of metal about as big as Grogu himself on his chest* Honey did you consider the fact that, like that expectation, this thing will literally just wear him down?

They don’t even get to eat together? Wtf kinda wacko culture is this?

Paz Vizsla’s voice is creepy in a sexy way 👁🫦👁

Love that for all of their armour the Mando’s know to keep the booty out in the open

BO-KATAN SAYING “THIS IS THE WAY” OH MY LORD

Lmao Bo really goes “Yeah sure imma join your cult, here’s three deranged beasts”

Is Bo really gonna join them then? And what’s up with her and the Mythosaur? I mean obviously she’s gonna go back for it, but then?

THAT END CREDITS ART OF DIN AND BO AND GROGU god they really are dad and mom now huh

[burnwater13]

Paz Vizsla using his flight pack to fight the Imps who were attacking Din Djarin and Grogu on Nevarro. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 3, The Sin. Calendar from DateWorks.

Grogu didn’t know a lot about Paz Vizsla. Yes, he’s a Mandalorian. Yes, he’s bigger than a brick privy (he’d heard Bo-Katan say that). He thought he should have been given the Darksaber when Grogu’s dad managed to get it away from Moff Gideon. Oh, and he’d once saved Grogu and his dad from the Imps and bounty hunters on Nevarro. But that was it. 

He didn’t know if Paz Vizsla liked music, ate frogs, or drank Spotchka. He didn’t know if the huge man liked dancing, debate, or wrestling. Could he recite the planetary capitals for the Core Worlds? Did he polish his armor every day? Did he back talk the Armorer? Who knew? Not Grogu.

Why this was important was pretty simple. Paz Vizsla had a famous Mandalorian ancestor and Grogu knew everything anyone could know about Tarre Vizsla. Every Jedi did. That’s how special he had been. You couldn't study Mandalorian history and culture at the Jedi temple and not learn everything there was to know about the only Mandalorian Jedi. 

Yup, that’s right. Tarre Vizsla, who had been Mand’alor a thousand years earlier, and who had created the Darksaber, had also been raised as a Jedi. As if that wasn't enough, he’d been of those rare people who had left all sorts of records on both Mandalore and Coruscant that provided future students of the Jedi-Mandalorian conflicts with a guide to understanding what was important to and what motivated Mandalorians. 

Of course, to access those records you needed to know that they existed, that a Mandalorian-Jedi had created them, and that they were never meant to be used to harm either the Jedi Order or the Mandalorians who challenged them so routinely. Grogu wasn't surprised to find that no one had accessed those records but him. At least the ones on Coruscant. 

He was sure Master Yoda would have had words of wisdom to share about balance in the Force and stuff like that, but really Grogu had just been trying to avoid the cheek pinching librarian and darted down a corridor that he’d never bothered with before and found himself walking through a space filled with all sorts of artifacts the Jedi had collected for millennia. 

Boxes, trays, plinths and shelving units overflowing with artifacts were sort of organized. If you call creating a winding path than only someone the size of Grogu could easily navigate ‘organized’. He suspected, much later, that it was because of this type of organization that he was the person able to find the the small metal box that held the records that Tarre Vizsla had created. Anyone else who even tried to walk through the room would have caused an avalanche of artifacts which they would have had to use the Force to suspend and even then it was going to leave a mark. 

Having seen Din Djarin’s new armor, as compared to the bounty hunter’s old armor, Grogu realized that the box he had found all those years earlier must have been made from beskar. It was shiny in a kind of understated way that didn’t match what he knew about other metals. Even in the dim light of the huge storage space he could tell that it had been created by a highly skilled craftsperson. Of course it was the same size as he was and he was looking at it from about ten centimeters away and had plenty of time to just stand there and appreciate it. Most people hadn't had that chance since it was built.

There were three indentations on the box and a very fine line separated two of them from the third on a horizontal plane. Grogu put his hand on the indentations and realized that they were handholds, or probably finger holds for a human or a species of a larger size than him. He pulled very gently but nothing happened. Dank Farrik! The box was locked. Now he really wanted to figure out how to open it. 

He wasn’t just curious about the contents. He could sense that something in the box wanted him to open it. But if it was locked, how was he going to do that?

Then he thought he heard a whisper. Really just a wisp of a sound that slipped into his ear and tickled the tiny hairs in it. “Oooo reee vaaa dddd”. Huh? What kind of word had that been? “Ohhh riii vvvv aaa ddd”. Oh ree vad? Grogu didn't know that word. What language was it? The only word he knew that was even close was ‘Ori’vod’ which was Mando’a for ‘Big Brother’, really big friend or special friend. Oh! 

Softly as he could Grogu whispered ‘Ori’vod’ and hoped his accent was okay. He found Mando’a must easier to speak than Gal Basic, but he still didn’t speak it very often. Almost no one at the Jedi temple spoke it and the few times he had offered up some sort of answer or advice using it, he got all the strange looks and comments about speaking something people understood from his classmates. 

It must have been okay because he heard the slightest sound of a latch being lifted or shifted to one side. He couldn’t tell for certain which it was but something had happened and that was enough. He put his hands in the indentations again and carefully lifted the ‘top’ of the box and found himself staring at an orb, maybe made of crystal, or perhaps a polished gem of some sort. It was dotted with tiny symbols and when he carefully lifted it from the box, it glowed with an internal light and was startled to see the images that where painted on the walls and ceiling all around him. 

At first he thought they were stars, but then he realized that they were something closer to topics. He brushed a finger carefully over the surface and pressed gently on a symbol that reminded him of a fish. The whole display changed and that very, very soft, faint voice was whispering in Mando’a again. He wondered what he could do to change that. He liked Mando’a but he didn't really have the vocabulary to understand it all that well. Perhaps he could tune into the object using the Force?

As soon as he did that he heard a voice speaking Gal Basic.

“Welcome to the Encyclopedia of Tarre Vizsla, friend. May you learn and reflect on what you have learned.”

Grogu was so surprised at that he almost dropped the orb. Instead he said “naak” and watched the light dim and the orb seemed to shut itself off. He was grateful for that. He carefully replaced it in it’s box, closed the lid and said “naak” again. When he tested the box, it refused to open. He was grateful for that. 

He retraced his path and managed to sneak out of the library and made his way to the cafeteria. Everyone at the temple expected to see him eating with a happy grin on his face. It was the perfect cover for having discovered that amazing artifact and it made all of his future visits to the library far more purposeful. 

One thing he could say about Paz Vizsla, based on what Grogu knew about his ancient relative, always expect the unexpected. You never knew when they were going to save your life or give you a guide to the galaxy. You just had to be patient. Not much of a Mandalorian trait to be honest, but Grogu was also a Jedi and no one ever saw that coming.

[krispyswips]

Familiarity

Episode 4 or Ragnar's no good horrible, terrible week. I think he's just a shy kid that attracts trouble but doesn't realize it because he's surrounded by lots of loving family members that will save him.

Anyway: A drabble about Grogu and Ragnar

Part 1 - A family reunion with Paz and the Armorer

Part 2 - Some ghosts and pog soup

Part 3 - This magic kind of water

Dad said to take care of him. Din said this was his cousin.

Which maybe at the time, Grogu did not quite understand what that meant.

The human boy, maybe 12 standard years looked down at Grogu and Grogu stared back up at him.

“H-hello,” he stuttered, “I’m Ragnar.” He held himself nervously, a bit of a lisp still on his voice as he outstretched a hand. He seemed to hesitate as if realizing Grogu could not possibly reach for his hand. Instead Grogu politely waved back.

“You’re Grogu, right?” he asked, and the other boy nodded in response.

They stood in momentary repose and the human boy scratched his ankle with the back of his foot, “Can I show you something cool?” He finally asked and Grogu’s ears perked up.

“Yeah, okay!” Ragnar seemed delighted and gestured for Grogu to follow. He led them inland to where the lake lead into a small stream and up some rocks. Grogu quickly found out that the boy loved to talk and more than that it seemed that he was always distracted. His attention running from the bushes to the rocks to the sticks all while he was trying to speak.

Because of this, it became clear that Ragnar was not paying attention to where he was going.

“Have you ever had Tingilar?” He asked, but Grogu did not respond. Instead, the boy didn’t mind and continued, “You should try it, it’s really spicy.”

As they went along the boy looked behind him which meant he wasn’t looking in front of him. Grogu’s ears shot up as he nearly watched him careen off their trail and down an unknown cavern. Thinking quickly, Grogu raised his hands and yanked him to the side with the Force.

The boy, who had not been paying attention in the first place, stumbled and quickly regained his step and continued. Grogu let out a sigh of relief.

Ragnar paid him no mind and continued down the path while Grogu toddled along, “But ever since you two came for my armor ceremony, we’ve been eating nothing but turtle-dragon. Have you ever had turtle dragon?”

Again, the boy was not paying attention to his surroundings, and something slinked to the right of him. It was long and spindly, hanging from a branch. It was curled as if to strike and Grogu was quick to act. As Ragnar approached it, Grogu pushed it aside with the Force and it disappeared into the bush.

Still Ragnar was none the wiser, “And we haven’t been just eating Tingilar sometimes we put it in stir-fry, or roast it, or bake it, and Buir is even drying it out to save for later.”

They continued onward with no particular destination in mind. Grogu however was becoming increasingly annoyed with the boy’s antics. He had maybe saved him five times that day. Pushing him out of harm’s way, saving him from terrifying creatures, making sure he would not fall down an unknown pit, or land in a pile of sharp plants.

He concluded that this boy spelled bad luck, attracted it even, was made of it. By the end of the day Grogu was exhausted.

“So thanks to you and your Dad, turtle-duck is now my favorite! Okay we’re here and just in time too.”

Grogu had followed Ragnar up a steep hill and he was panting by the time they reached the summit. Ragnar finally noticed this and picked him up to sit on his lap. Then as Grogu gathered his bearings he looked off into the distance and understood why Ragnar had brought him up here.

The sun was setting which made the hilly landscape plunge into a strange sort of pattern. The shadows of the hills projecting a zigzagging shape. The sun against the lake in the distance, also made it glimmer and shine. The view was brilliant and peaceful, quiet from all the commotion from the covert.

Far too soon Ragnar hopped up and panic for this poor boy’s safety overwhelmed Grogu. He quickly toddled along after him, after all he had promised his Dad he would take care of his cousin. That was the way.