There are people in the world getting on the Internet and commenting that Pedro only won or is only cast because he is the "it" actor right now
1: Go fuck yourself
2: You can't say that shit about a guy who's busted his ass for 30! years to finally be booked and busy!
3: a bunch of ding-a-lings talking about this guy like he's some 18 year old nepo baby who just sprouted her titties...please go fuck yourself, he's a goddamn trained thespian with a heart of gold and I will fight you
❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁
Word Count: 6822
Rating: General
Summary: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected...
Content Warnings: None!
Author's Note: This was fun to write. Middle pic is one I took in a panel at SWC last year, just to set the scene. Din was down bad from minute one and honestly it's very cute to see him so flustered 🥺!! Also adorable how similar their experiences/reactions to the convention were! Anyway, hope you enjoyed! I can't wait to post the next chapter, hopefully coming on Sunday :)
Thanks again @suresnips for being my beta! I appreciate your help so, so much ♡
4. Curiosity Killed The Cat (Din's POV)
To an observer with no background knowledge of Star Wars or its fandom, it would appear that most of The Mandalorian panel's attendees were merely a little bored. However, someone more familiar with the Star Wars world may have realised that the audience had been expecting something more profound. Maybe they had been hoping for some character analysis of the titular character or to participate in a larger discussion on how the show slotted into the wider Star Wars galaxy during this talk. After all, the panel was entitled: ‘The Man behind the Mandalorian: Exploring the Identity of the Galaxy’s Best Bounty Hunter.’
Instead, anyone who had sought out this panel surely would have found themselves bitterly disappointed, as the host had reduced The Mandalorian to nothing more than its violent action scenes. The host appeared to have a fixation on the fighting which occasionally took place in the show, at the expense of all other elements.
Perhaps that was the reason why the audience, on the whole, looked so incredibly bored. Even one attendee, wearing an almost unbelievably realistic cosplay, seemed more entertained by the seams of his gloves than anything the panel had to say about the show he was surely such a huge fan of. His helmet was bowed towards the floor as his leg bounced up and down repeatedly, a sure sign of his restlessness and his keenness for this panel to be over so he could continue his day at the convention.
To outside observers – whether they knew everything about Star Wars or nothing at all – the man dressed in full Mandalorian armour was possibly one of the biggest fans of the show. After all, he had replicated Mando's costume in painstaking detail; it must have taken an unbelievable amount of effort and hours, borne out of the intense love for The Mandalorian that he surely had.
But Din Djarin was not a cosplayer… his armour was not a costume.
The suit that he wore had not been crafted due to his undying love for Star Wars, it had been cast in Beskar, according to ancient traditions, at a forge by the golden-haired woman who served as The Armorer for his tribe.
It felt strange to Din for him to sit there and be spoken about as if he was not present. Of course, to everyone else in the room, the notion of Mando being in the room with them seemed as likely to happen as it was for pigs everywhere to spontaneously begin flying. To all other attendees, Din had just cosplayed as his favourite character. Everyone else in the room did not have the faintest idea that they were in fact in the presence of the man behind the character they all loved. While the assembled group enjoyed Mando enough that they had made their way to the far corner of the enormous convention hall for this panel, they didn’t know that sitting amongst them was the man who portrayed the Star Wars character that they loved so much. Nor that the armour that they had seen so many times on their screens was right there, beside them. Close enough to touch, if they wanted to.
The thought of being amongst so many super fans almost dissuaded Din from attending this panel, which had caught his eye. After deciding to attend the convention the previous evening, Din had used his laptop to search through the events for the day as he lounged on the couch in his cottage, Grogu playing on the rug beside him. This particular panel had instantly stuck out to him, above all others that were advertised. Din had always harboured a curiosity about what The Mandalorian meant to people. But it was perhaps a more selfish interest that had motivated him to seek out this panel in particular: Din wanted to know whether the fans had any idea about his identity.
Din had intended to sneak in and hover at the back and watch the panel from there before exiting as discreetly as he entered. But things had not gone according to that plan at all. Din had never attended an event as enormous as this and had no idea how it worked – he felt out of his depth. It was a feeling he was unused to and uncomfortable with, as Din always liked to be in control and have a plan.
Ironically, it was the very show which was being discussed that had first put cracks into his careful, considered nature. Relinquishing some of that control in signing up to be The Mandalorian had been difficult for Din, as he was required to be on set for a strict filming schedule in a brand new country. The stability and money that had been offered was something Din had struggled to refuse, especially given the fact he now had an extra mouth to feed.
But as Din sat there in the room where the panel was being held, he knew that coming here had all been one gigantic, terrible mistake. It was a stupid, nonsensical idea. It had been nothing more than a rush of blood to the head, Din just hoped he would be able to leave again having remained undetected. There was an old saying that Din had heard many times: ‘Curiosity killed the cat.’ Now, Din felt as though he finally understood that phrase.
Din was furious with himself that he had put himself in the position to hear such harsh words about the show after he had tried so hard to keep himself away from all of the attention portraying a lead role in a Star Wars show brought. For a man who was usually so calculating and meticulous in his actions, this had surely been the most foolish decision that Din had made in a long while.
Even worse than Din's decision to attend this panel, he mused, was his decision to attend the convention wearing his armour. Being surrounded by superfans made Din keenly aware that if any one of their gaze were to linger long enough, perhaps they would realise that his armour was not merely a highly impressive cosplay. So in a bid to distract himself and calm his racing heart, he began fiddling with the stitching of the tips of his mustard-coloured gloves. It was a sign of the acute anxiety that he was currently enduring, but to anyone watching, his fidgeting probably indicated sheer boredom.
Din mentally kicked himself for the ridiculous decision to attend the convention wearing his armour. The choice had made the entire event even more anxiety-inducing than it needed to be. Din lamented the fact that he could have come here with Grogu and simply blended in with the thousands of other families bringing their children to the convention for a fun-filled day. True, it would have still been an overwhelming experience and Grogu may have struggled with the crowds, but at least then, Din wouldn’t have had to constantly fear his identity being exposed when someone realised that his armour was a little too screen-realistic to be a simple cosplay.
Indeed, it was the skill and dedication of other fans that had initially eased Din’s fears of detection when he had walked into the crowded hall and began moving with the sea of people to an unknown destination up ahead. Even if he wanted to choose his path, there was no way to; Din was lost amongst the endless sea of people. As he travelled down the main hall, his mouth felt dry underneath the helmet and his heart thundered in his chest as he had no idea where he was going. But once he had made it to the side and stopped briefly to orient himself, Din realised just how many fans there were cosplaying as Mando.
Din had been stunned by the many amazing cosplays he had seen. After collecting his nerves, he slowly began to move down the hall and gave a polite nod of the head to any other Mando cosplayers he passed. Most returned the gesture, in shared acknowledgement of each other’s craftsmanship. Progress had been slow, though, as Din was constantly asked for photos. Even worse were those that did not ask, but merely threw themselves at him. Some even touched Din without asking first, a gesture which made him flinch. It annoyed Din, just because he was dressed in cosplay did not mean he gave consent to be touched whenever others pleased.
Despite the host of incredible cosplays he had passed, Din knew that none of them truly lived up to his armour, his was a cut above the rest. There was no way to perfectly replicate real Beskar, no matter the incredible lengths that some of the cosplayers had gone to. He just hoped that no one would question it too deeply.
After a few minutes of walking around the main hall, Din had decided he needed some respite from the endless photo requests and eyes that Din felt watching his every move. Din found a quiet corner of the hall with some near deserted toilets and headed for them. He sealed himself into the stall and removed his helmet, grimacing at the way his hair clung to his forehead thanks to how much he had perspired due to his nerves. The helmet was climate-controlled, so the heat of the building should not have been an issue. It could not legislate for Din's emotions, though.
Each time Din moved to leave, he found that the anxiety he had felt while walking through the hall reared its ugly head. He kept telling himself that he only needed a few more minutes to regain his composure. That was until Din checked his watch and realised it was not long until the panel began.
So Din had unintentionally spent most of the time before the panel hiding away in the toilet stall in an attempt to repair his shattered nerves. At that point, it would have been so easy for Din to leave. But he knew that the curious part of his mind would never forgive him if he did not at least check out the panel. It was perhaps the best opportunity he was going to get to discover what people thought of the show, whether they liked the character and, most importantly, whether they had any theories on who The Mandalorian was.
Yet, now he was actually sitting there in the panel, he cursed not only himself for not leaving earlier, but Din also cursed Peli Motto for giving him such a stupid idea to attend this convention in the first place.
Many times throughout the panel – which was headed by a man called Jeff who wore a backwards baseball cap, despite looking as though he should have grown out of such a fashion choice several decades ago – Din had considered getting up and walking out. He had arrived pretty late as it was, only a minute or two before it began, as he hoped to sneak in and take an unassuming spot at the back. But the seats had all been filled back there, and an overly enthusiastic volunteer had guided him to a spare aisle seat about fifteen rows back from the front.
Luckily, almost everyone had been too wrapped up in watching Jeff and his cronies fumble around with technology to pay him much mind, except for the people on his row who were in awe of his ‘cosplay.’ It would have been so easy for Din to just up and leave since he was on the end of the aisle. But he was fearful that it would have drawn too much attention to him. Thus far, he had pretty much gone undetected. Jeff had not bothered to look at the audience too clearly to notice the incredibly realistic Mandalorian that was currently in the room with him. Which was unsurprising, given how self-centred the man appeared to be. The panel really ought to have been retitled ‘The Jeff Show.’
Most of the panel had been pretty inoffensive, if a little dull. Din silently objected to the way that Jeff had reduced the show down to only its violent components, rather than engaging with it on a deeper level. At times, Jeff was so close to understanding what the action scenes demonstrated about Mando’s character and the wider politics of the galaxy. But then he would just make another crass comment about how good Mando was at killing and all progress would grind to a halt.
But then Jeff opened up the floor and invited the audience to step forward to the mic so he could hear comments from the fans. Din leaned forward in his seat, excited to finally fulfil the purpose of attending this panel and hear what others thought of the show that he had poured so much of his heart and soul into. But if Din was expecting to hear positive feedback, he was about to be bitterly disappointed.
Frustratingly, most speakers took their opportunity to address the audience to do nothing more than complain about never seeing Mando’s face or knowing his name. It was no surprise to Din that people felt that way, even if he was a little disappointed that people were so fixated on those two elements. Din knew it had been a concern at the beginning of the show, during early production meetings. But thanks to some input from Din himself, the character of Mando now felt more fleshed-out than he had when Din had joined the project.
Plus, Din felt as though viewers could understand enough about the character and his intentions without needing to know his name or see his face. It was a belief that was being challenged by the attitudes of the attendees of this panel. But Din was not too upset. After all, he was more concerned with whether any fans had any viable theories about his identity. Mercifully, none of them appeared to have picked up on any rumours. When the show's creators told him that no one suspected that Din Djarin was The Mandalorian, it appeared they had been telling the truth.
Fortunately, despite the name of the panel, there had been no speculation on Mando's true identity thus far. Despite the panel's title hinting that the man behind the Mandalorian would be discussed, that had so far not transpired. Things appeared to be looking up for Din; not only had there been no speculation as to his identity, but none of the audience had noticed the incredibly realistic cosplay that was sitting amongst them.
That was until a young man with brown hair, dressed in a Mando t-shirt and jeans stood up and moved towards the mic. His comments started positively enough, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the show and all,” The man confessed, and Din smiled slightly underneath the helmet. However, he continued: “But I just feel like we don’t know that much about Mando. It’s as if we, as an audience, are being held back from connecting with him fully because of some diva’s selfish demands to keep his identity hidden!” The man exclaimed.
Din felt his blood run cold. He swallowed thickly, feeling bile rise in his throat. He should have known that this was a bad idea, that coming here was a mistake. But the man was not quite finished, yet:
“Seriously, the guy who plays him must be such an asshole. Imagine having to work with that guy!” He ended his tirade, to a smattering of laughter and applause from the room.
The accusations that he had thrown Din’s way, about him being an asshole or a diva – a charge that in particular made no sense, as surely a diva would want their name and face to be plastered everywhere – had been like a punch to the gut. And Din had endured many of them throughout his life to understand exactly how painful they could be.
Far from the kind words he had been expecting, instead, Din had been forced to listen to various people slander both the show and him as a person. Din’s heart ached as he heard the charges being levelled against him; it was one thing to criticise the show but to call his character into question caused a whole other level of pain. If they only knew why he had to keep his identity a secret, they would never throw such cruel accusations his way.
Din wasn’t naive. He knew that by signing up for a Star Wars show, his life would change forever. It was not a decision that he had taken lightly. Especially given that his way of life was opposed to everything the mega-corporation that now owned Star Wars stood for. But it presented an opportunity to not only secure a consistent income and better life for himself and his son but also to showcase his culture to the world. It was an opportunity that Din really could not turn down. However, just because Din was prepared for his life to change in some ways did not mean that he could ever be prepared to be attacked on such a personal level.
At that moment, Din almost tossed aside his priority to remain hidden and not draw attention to himself as he debated walking out of the panel. After hearing such personal attacks against his character, Din was so close to just upping and leaving that room. He had heard enough. If there was even one more vaguely harsh word tossed Din’s way, it might have tipped him over the edge.
Despite the tough exterior that Din Djarin projected to the rest of the world, he was at his core, a fairly sensitive man. He knew that the things that he had already heard about himself would take him a long time to come to terms with. He couldn’t bear to hear any further unkindness.
Din planted his feet firmly on the floor and began to lean forward, preparing himself to leave. It seemed that in a war between his mind and body, his body had won… his subconscious was going to make him stand up and storm out of that room, against all rational thought.
In all of his anguish, Din had missed the girl who had stormed forward to the microphone, dodging limbs and hurdling bags, to stand before the room.
But then she began speaking and her presence became impossible to ignore any longer; her voice was shaky with nerves but there was absolute conviction and certainty behind every word.
And Din was frozen to the spot, utterly transfixed. Suddenly all thoughts of leaving exited his mind.
“I think tying Mando’s identity to his name and face is a pretty narrow way of viewing how we can understand who someone truly is inside and what exactly motivates them. I mean, I think I’ve connected to his character pretty well without ever seeing his face or knowing his real name. That’s because Mando has proved time and time again what kind of man he is,” The girl argued and Din found himself instantly relaxing and leaning back in his seat. “The way he has risked his life multiple times to rid the galaxy of threats and evil shows that he is committed to securing a brighter future, even if he is not around to see it. This man is willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Sure, we don’t know his name or face or a lot about his origins, but I think to us, that should prove that he has nothing but noble intentions. That human side of the man beneath all of the armour allows us to connect to him on a far deeper level than just seeing a face and learning a name ever could,” She finished and Din shut his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Unbeknownst to her, the kind words she spoke had soothed Din's soul. She had begun to heal the wounds that were opened by the previous speakers' harsh words.
Din noticed how nervous the girl seemed and the way she fiddled with her hands as she stood at the microphone. He marvelled at the way she had been up like a shot to defend the character, though. Plus, judging by how eloquently she spoke, Din assumed she was used to this.
Din sat there and listened with a small smile on his face, shaking his head slightly in awe as she launched into a passionate defence of the character. Unlike all previous speakers, the girl understood just as Din did, that seeing someone’s true intentions and the qualities they possessed mattered more than knowing their name or what they looked like.
Suddenly, Din began to feel a lot lighter. People did care, people did love and appreciate the show and they understood Mando as a character. He was pleased by that fact. Din knew he would stay now. Even if the next speakers reverted to being less than complimentary, the girl had bolstered his confidence and soothed his bruised ego enough to stick around.
Din expected that the girl would retreat to her seat after giving her opinion. The awful man who ran the panel certainly seemed to think that was the case as he met her passionate speech with empty platitudes, which Din thought bordered on the patronising.
However, what she did next caused Din’s jaw to drop beneath his helmet. The girl did not return to her seat. Instead, she spoke up and continued to defend not only the character of Mando but also the man behind him.
Din listened in awe as she started speaking up to defend the man who was, unbeknownst to her, sitting only a few feet away.
“Also, I know no one outside this room will probably ever hear what had been said at this panel, but I think attacking the character of the man who portrays Mando, simply because he wants privacy, is unfair. I think we should always talk about people, online and publicly, as though they can read or hear what we say,” She argued and Din almost snorted at that assertion.. if only she knew that he was right here. “We don’t know why he won’t say who he is, but I trust that he has his reasons. Even then, he doesn’t need to have a good reason. Everyone is entitled to their privacy for the simple fact of wanting to be private,” The girl appealed to her fellow fans. Din felt tears pool in his eyes at her beautiful sentiment. Until she came along, he had been about to leave, with his last memories of the panel, believing that everyone hated him and thought he made the show worse. Now, though, he was listening to a passionate, eloquent defence of his character.
The girl finished off her speech with a comment about the show. She explained how Mando respected everyone that he encountered in the galaxy and left the places he visited better than he found them. She implored her fellow fans to take the same lessons from the show, rather than focus on the violent, action scenes. When she was finished, Din wanted to stand up and applaud her, before rushing up to her and thanking her from the bottom of his heart.
It was clear that she understood exactly what The Mandalorian was truly about. The show was, at its core, about respecting others and learning to peacefully coexist. Mando was fighting for a better galaxy, a kinder galaxy and once people understood that, they would understand how important it was to respect the actor behind the Mandalorian.
Din had an overwhelming urge to make his way over to this stranger, to thank her from the bottom of his heart for standing up for Mando so passionately. He knew, given his cosplay, that he could easily pass as an enthusiastic fan.
Then Din remembered who he was and settled on the upsetting reality that he couldn’t take such a reckless action.
If he spoke, she might recognise that the voice beneath the helmet was the very same one that she had no doubt seen on screen so many times. It was too great a risk and, much as Din would have loved to thank her, it now seemed as though their paths would diverge without her ever knowing how truly thankful Din was for her words and how much they had done to boost his confidence. Ultimately, although it was sad, Din knew that it was how things had to be. The risk was too great.
Although for the short time remaining that Din would remain in her orbit, Din was determined to commit every inch of her to memory, so that he would never forget the woman who had unknowingly done so much to him. Din was determined to impress her on his memory on the off-chance that their paths would one day cross in a scenario where he might be able to get to know her. After all, Din was a man, and he was not immune to the fact that she was a beautiful woman, perhaps several years younger than him. But her beauty was not just skin-deep; it was to be found in the way she spoke so eloquently. How she addressed the room with such maturity and wisdom. To Din, it appeared as though she had lived several lifetimes.
Now she had sat back in her seat, Din could only appreciate the back of her profile, though he had noticed the cute slope of her nose and her plush lips as she made her way back to her seat. Din focused on her hair. It looked so soft that he wondered how it would feel against his skin as he nuzzled into her scalp and pressed a soft kiss of gratitude there.
The T-visor had its perks, as no one else in the room was any the wiser to how intently Din had affixed his gaze to her, much like Mando did when tracking a bounty. Din found that, even if he had wanted to, he could not look away from her. He watched quietly as her friend whispered excitedly to her. She was only a couple of rows in front of him and was almost close enough to reach out and touch.
Perhaps that was how Din could make her feel his appreciation in a low-risk way, through a simple touch. He wondered whether he could put his hand on her shoulder on the way out and convey his thanks with a nod of his helmet the way Mando would. But that was another fantasy that would not come to pass, as Din knew that when this panel was reaching its conclusion, he had to make straight for the doors before he got swamped by any of the enthusiastic fans in here. He had seen the way throughout the panel that the number of people who had spotted his incredible ‘costume’ had increased. Din knew he was drawing many eyes.
Despite the overwhelming urge inside him to thank the girl, Din knew that he had to keep moving through the convention centre. Cutting a dedicated path, scything his way through the crowd like the methodic warrior he was.
So, when Jeff started wrapping up the panel, Din sprang straight to his feet and strode towards the doors, before a single soul could say anything. There were a few excited faces and murmured gasps as he strode purposefully towards the exit, but fortunately, no one was quick enough to stand up and thwart his quick exit.
Bizarrely, even though he was unused to being around so many people and had initially found the experience overwhelming, Din found that after the panel, he felt far more comfortable in the larger, crowded spaces at the convention. In a small room, there was no privacy. Anyone and everyone could look at him, their steely, judgmental eyes burrowing into him. They know… he had been constantly thinking to himself throughout the panel. But of course, no one was any the wiser to his true identity. Even if the panel's attendees thought that the costume was realistic, the idea of the real Mandalorian attending a convention dressed as himself was too far-fetched to be real. Even the most imaginative fanfic writer could not come up with such a ridiculous plot.
So, Din found himself physically relaxing as he made his way back to the main hallway. His shoulders were less tense, his jaw unclenched. After he left the panel, Din had not intended to linger much longer. But as he found himself wandering around, stopping for more and more photos with eager fans who were so blown away by his ‘cosplay,' Din discovered that he began to almost enjoy the attention.
There were so many children here too. Some were not much older than Grogu. Din wished he had brought Grogu with him, but he knew that the convention would not have been a welcome environment for his precious son, especially given his nervous disposition. But Din knew with absolute certainty that Grogu was having a pleasant afternoon, he was being looked after by an elderly man named Kuiil, who was a babysitter that the studio had initially put him in touch with. Kuiil was always dependable and happy to help Din out whenever he needed him to take care of Grogu, no matter how little notice Din gave.
Din was gradually growing in confidence as he strode through the main hall of the convention centre. Now, when fans asked for photos or even launched themselves at him without asking first, Din found that he was less nervous. To every request, Din just nodded. When people thanked him, although they didn’t always – Din occasionally wished he could speak to remind them to mind their manners – Din made the same gesture. A simple nod said so much, without saying anything at all.
Din would never speak while wearing his armour. To most, it perhaps came across as an incredible amount of dedication to cosplaying the character – Mando, after all, was a man of few words. But the reality was that Din knew his voice could blow his cover.
Ordinarily, Din rarely feared his voice would give him away as The Mandalorian, as his Mando voice was distorted somewhat by the helmet, so the difference was sufficient enough for Din to feel confident that no one would realise he was Mando. But surrounded by superfans at this convention, in the very helmet that would distort his voice to make him unmistakably sound the same as Mando, Din deemed it far too great a risk to take.
After stopping for photos and fistbumps with enthusiastic fans of all ages, Din was finally ready to make his exit, much later than he believed he would have initially. Ultimately, Din was glad he had attended the panel and not rushed off earlier in the day when he had felt so overwhelmed that he had been driven to hide in the toilet. Although the panel had not been an entirely positive experience, it had been worth it just because of her.
And to think, Din was so hurt after the comments some fans had made about him at the panel that he would have missed out on feeling all the love and appreciation for Mando, had it not been for that girl who took a stand and raised her voice in defence of him. Her words had allowed DIn to feel lighter, freer and as though he wanted to open himself up to the love the fans were prepared to show him.
The day at the convention had been an amazing, eye-opening experience. One that was far out of Din’s comfort zone, something that he never would have believed he could do for himself. But now he realised that he had also stayed far longer than he had been expecting. Din wanted to get back to his son. Grogu was usually settled and happy for the first few hours, but Din knew that it would soon begin to veer into the territory where a meltdown may be more likely.
Plus, Din had finally had enough for the day. He was accustomed to wearing his armour for long periods – it was like a second skin, after all – but he hadn’t sat down, nor removed his helmet for hours. Despite his increased confidence, the fear of being discovered lingered. The fear that his ‘costume’ would be sussed out set him constantly on edge and was draining him far more than a heavy suit of armour could.
So Din began making his way to the exit through the expansive main hallway. He almost made it through without stopping, until he noticed a massive banner with a photograph of himself on it. Din stopped for a second, looking up at it as he remembered the day that photo had been taken. It had been a nerve-wracking experience for him, he was certainly not a model, but they had needed some promo shots. So Din found himself there, posing awkwardly in front of a professional photographer who was barking orders at him and wondering when arms and hands had become such awkward, cumbersome things. Din would rather have spent an entire day throwing himself into walls without a single break before repeating the experience and had informed The Mandalorian's creative team as much. So future photoshoots were completed with a body double wearing a copy of Din’s armour. The photo on display was one of the few that was him, though.
Din stood there for a few moments, smiling proudly at it underneath his helmet before a small voice caused Din to stop reminiscing over the gigantic poster and abruptly turn on the spot to face the direction of the voice.
“Excuse me, could we take a photo with you, please?” A timid voice said. In response, Din felt every hair stand on end as he instantly recognised the person who the voice belonged to.
It was the girl from the panel, staring at him with absolute admiration and adoration. He stood open-mouthed and gawked at her for a few seconds, stunned to be in her presence once again. But then her beautiful features changed. She frowned slightly and then Din realised he had been standing there, frozen, as he stared at her in disbelief. She had taken his silence and inaction as a dismissal and almost retreated before Din snapped out of his trance and nodded quickly. He wanted to tell her how wonderful she had been at the panel, how much her words had meant to him. But everything happened so fast.
Din felt his heart rate quicken as the girl moved to stand next to him. Her arms hung by her side somewhat awkwardly, just like Din’s had in the photo on the poster that he had just been admiring. She was too nervous - or perhaps polite - to sling one around his shoulder or waist. Din wouldn’t have minded though, there was something imperceptible about her that made Din want to be drawn into her orbit. She had a magnetic presence.
Din barely remembered to turn and look up at the girl’s friend who was taking the photo, his ordinarily calm and composed mind had been catapulted off its axis by her presence. The girl went to step away, but Din raised a hand just in front of her body to stop her from moving off.
“Wait, let me… pose properly,” Din choked out, forgetting his vow of silence in a moment of recklessness. He held his breath for a few seconds, but if she recognised his voice, she did not acknowledge it. Din released a shaky breath, trying not to be frustrated with himself. After all, Din had only good intentions. Out of everyone he had taken photos with today, she deserved the best out of them all.
“Oh, thank you!” The girl laughed and smiled appreciatively as she took her place back by Din’s side.
Din placed one hand on his belt and leaned in towards her, hoping that the picture turned out to her satisfaction. They stood there side by side, almost close enough to touch. At that moment, Din wanted nothing more than to remove his helmet and bare his face to the alluring woman who had publicly spoken so eloquently in his defence and been equally polite in their more private encounter. But even if he had wanted to, they were out of time. Their few seconds together were over.
“Thank you! Your cosplay is amazing, by the way! It looks so realistic!” She said with a shy smile as she stepped away. “I think there’s a cosplay competition at the Twin Suns stage this afternoon, you should seriously consider entering. I’m sure you’d win!” The girl said encouragingly.
Din nodded stiffly, struck by her manners and how genuinely excited and encouraging towards others she seemed to be. Both traits mattered deeply to Din. But there were also nerves behind his suddenly restricted motions as he once again feared his cover being blown. Din supposed that it would be unsurprising if it was the same girl from the panel who had shown such a passion for the character was finally the one to connect the dots.
Despite the momentary panic caused by her comment about how realistic his costume was, Din was still amazed by how sweet she had been. The way her eyes shone with genuine excitement as she approached him and yet, she managed to maintain that respect for him that other attendees did not. So many people rushed up to Din when he was in this costume, without even stopping to ask his permission for a photo, let alone take a second to look at him or politely thank him. The fact she had thanked him and complimented him and even spoken encouraging words about his cosplay proved to Din that she was one of the politest attendees.
Din had a few more seconds to appreciate being in the girl’s presence as the friend she was with stepped up to have a picture with him. The girl’s friend seemed more confident than her in the way she posed, she seemed to know exactly what to do. But Din was paying her no mind. Instead, he glanced at the details of her face he could see from behind the phone – complete with Mando case – that she was using to take the photo. Din noticed the spark in her eyes, the way they lit up when she looked at him. She probably didn’t realise just how much Din could see in the helmet and that he was staring directly at her, noticing the look of awe she wore on her face.
“Thank you,” The girl’s friend said with a polite nod and the two walked off.
Din stood for a moment, watching them as they went. They flicked through the photos, jumping up and down excitedly as they looked at one. They were just out of earshot, but Din could tell how excited they both seemed by the pictures they had taken together. He smiled beneath his helmet. Knowing that he could bring such joy to others was a phenomenon he had lived in blissful ignorance of for most of the time since he had been cast as The Mandalorian, the only exception being when he had visited that children’s hospital a few months previously.
Today had opened Din Djarin’s eyes to the impact he was having out there, on so many different people. It was a debt that he owed to her, a debt that he knew he would, regrettably, never be able to repay.
Perhaps, in another reality, Din would have run after her, stopped her and confessed how appreciative he was of her kindness. He would have told her that he wanted to get to know her and asked her on a date if she was single. Maybe she would have been momentarily taken aback, given the bizarre circumstances of him wearing a full suit of armour and running up to her at a convention like that. But hopefully, she would have given him a chance.
They would have gotten to know each other, and gradually fallen in love over the next few months. Perhaps, if things went well, they would have lived a long and happy life together. It felt so real, for one fleeting moment, that Din could almost see their future together.
But that was ridiculous. In this reality, Din watched from behind his helmet as the outline of the girl he felt himself so drawn to grew smaller and smaller before eventually being swallowed up by the crowd.
She disappeared into the distance. Out of view, and out of Din’s life.
❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁
Word Count: 8323
Rating: General
Summary: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate...
Content Warnings: Reader struggles to eat due to nerves and feels anxious due to crowds. Also, not sure if it's really a warning, but there's some allusions to fandom discourse in this one, particularly how men in the SW fandom can behave towards women. So warning for fandom wank, I guess, but reader goes off on them ;)
Author's Note: A very long update, wow. Honestly, this chapter was semi-autobiographical lmao. It was my exact response to how busy SWC was last year, even down to hiding under the stairs! Except I did not have a cool internet bestie (just my uncool irl bestie), nor did I stand up and speak in a panel like reader does. I did however see many amazing cosplays and the picture of the Din cosplayer is one I took there! :)
Hope you like this one. Not sure for how long me updating every two days will last, but my mind is fully focused on this story for the moment, so who knows!
Thank you once again to the wonderful @suresnips for being my beta! Couldn't do it without you ♡
3. This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]
You could scarcely believe that the person you had spent so many hours of your life gushing over The Mandalorian with online, was really here with you in your little flat. Ria had arrived a few hours ago and you two had instantly gotten along famously. Somehow, it was as though you had always known her, even though this was the first time you were actually meeting in person.
You had left your flat earlier in the evening with a mix of trepidation in the pit of your stomach and overwhelming excitement crackling like electricity as it coursed through your veins. The prospect of finally meeting someone who meant so much to you was both daunting and exhilarating. There were so many things that could go wrong, since you had never spent any time together in person and were unsure of your dynamic in that sense. There was pressure, too, particularly bearing the distance Ria had travelled from the U.S. in mind, plus the money you had both spent on ForceCon tickets.
It was a big deal for you to invite someone over to your flat to stay with you like this. From morning until evening, the two of you would be in each other’s presence constantly. At least it was only for five nights… Ria was leaving first thing Tuesday morning as you had to get straight back to work. You quieted your nerves with the thought of how brief her visit would be, until a notification lit up your phone and made your stomach drop:
[thisistheslay]: 18:36: I’M HEREEEEEE!!!!
Ria must be here at the station. You searched around frantically for her, trying to spot her amongst all the commuters that were barreling through the station. You realised, then, that you had no idea how tall she was compared to your own height. That was something you had never needed to know online. Finally, you spotted the brown hair and thick black glasses that you instantly recognised as your internet best friend’s, making her way towards the barrier and the incredible weekend of nerdy fun that lay before the two of you.
After approximately five seconds of being in each other’s presence, you knew that all your fears were unfounded.
As Ria had fumbled with her phone to make the contactless payment and make her way through the gates, the way her face had lit up at the sight of you instantly allayed your anxiety. The bone-crushing hug she had pulled you into had helped too, it was hard to believe she was actually here with you. This hug was for all of the hard days you had endured, separated by many miles when the two of you had just wished you could wrap the other in your arms and be there for them.
It struck you how poised Ria was in real life, too. At the end of the day, the two of you shared a pretty nerdy hobby, it would have been understandable if she was quiet and a little nerdy. But here your internet best friend was, pushing her way through the busy rush hour crowds and throwing the death glares of the commuters, mainly old men in suits, who had glared at the two of you for daring to embrace in the middle of the station hall and block their way from making it to the next tube.
It always baffled you to witness how eager people were to push and shove their way through others for the sake of arriving at their destination just two or three minutes earlier. Somewhere along the way, it felt as though a basic human kindness had been lost in how Londoners seemed to interact with each other when it came to public transport.
But that was a gripe for another time. Your best friend was here, you would not let anyone ruin that. As you emerged from the station and onto the street, you found at a loss for what to say, other than asking about her flight. Luckily, Ria filled the gap in conversation by incessantly babbling about her travels here and the shady characters she had encountered during her two layovers, as she chatted all the way back to your flat. All the guilt you had felt at having her make her own way here – you had wanted to meet her at the airport but work had prevented you from getting away on time – vanished as you saw how much confidence she possessed. Her bubbliness was almost overwhelming, you could scarcely get a word in edgeways. But secretly you were glad of it; ordinarily you found that you were a little awkward in the presence of people you had just met as you adjusted to their presence and their energy. Ria more than compensated for your social shortcomings and fortunately, your dynamic appeared as though it would translate from online into the real world.
Ria burst into your flat after you had met her at the station, full of enthusiasm, lighting every corner of your abode with the warmth and humour that had always been present online. It was incredible how much energy she had actually, considering the fact she had just endured a transatlantic flight. You marvelled at her energy levels, considering you felt exhausted after merely going to the shops. It was so amazing to have her here with you, though.
You had laughed before meeting her about how bizarre it was that internet friends always seemed to know the most intimate details about your life, in a way that you never felt comfortable sharing with real life friends… but you had never seen each other’s legs! Yet, now Ria was here, legs and all.
The two of you were inflating the air mattress for Ria to sleep on, keen to get an early night after so much travelling and how early the two of you would need to be up to make your way to the Dockside Convention Centre for the Con the following morning. You positioned the air mattress underneath the TV, on which you had just spent hours watching your favourite episodes of the show that had brought the two of you together. Of course, you had only intended to watch one episode. But with Mando, there was no such thing as only one episode. Once you started, you just couldn’t stop and you had ended up watching most of the second season. Both you and Ria agreed that the second half of it was incredible, but it was a bit of a slow start. Overall the pair of you preferred the first season, which was a pretty popular consensus amongst fans.
Ria had no qualms about her sleeping arrangements. London was an extortionate city at the best of times, but accommodation when ForceCon was in town – especially close to the convention centre – had meant that your offer to allow Ria to stay in your flat was the only way she had been able to afford to come. It was a debt to you that Ria was grateful for. You didn’t see it as any kind of debt though, you knew she would do the same for you.
Plus, there was no way you could not offer to help her. If something as ridiculous as actually encountering Mando happened, she would never be able to forgive you if she was not by your side.
Ria had always been your closest friend since you had first met her online and you were so relieved that there had been no hint of awkwardness between the two of you. Ria had made herself right at home, and you had struggled to believe as the chatter and laughter continued that this was genuinely the first time the two of you had ever met in person.
You watched in awe as Ria moved around your flat, her brown hair which she usually wore in a bob, now tied up ready to sleep. The glasses with thick-black frames were still on her face, a sure sign she would be scrolling on her phone, probably replying to people on her wildly popular blog, before she finally got some sleep.
Now that she had changed into the tank top and shorts that she would sleep in, you could see more of the extensive tattoo collection she possessed, including a few Mandalorian tattoos. There was an outline of Mando’s helmet that was so well-done, it made you want to rush out to the nearest tattoo shop and get one for yourself. You knew there would be tattoo artists at the Con too, but you also knew you would inevitably chicken out.
With her confident nature and collection of tattoos, you were both in awe of, and utterly intimidated by your best friend. You thought, as you watched her climb onto the air mattress with a giggle, as it tossed her around, that Ria seemed so much older than you even though she was actually eighteen months younger! But that was the bizarre thing about being in your mid twenties, people either seemed to be fully formed adults or still more like teenagers. There was rarely any inbetween.
You shouldn’t have been surprised that the two of you had gotten along so well. After all, you and Ria shared a similar sense of humour, had a similar taste in music (that wasn’t the Mandalorian soundtrack) and a love of books that had allowed your friendship to blossom into something more than purely an entirely Mando-centric friendship that you felt like you shared with some of your other online friends. It wasn’t as though the friendships were shallow or that you didn’t get on with them or anything, but you had just not spoken more deeply about other parts of your lives in the same way as you had to Ria.
“How’s the air mattress?” You asked with a smirk as you watched Ria toss and turn as the unpredictable surface tossed her around.
“It’s fine! Just a bit lively but honestly now I’m lay down, it’s super comfortable. I’ll be asleep in no time,” Ria smiled.
“Good,” You nodded. “Still can’t believe you’re really here. I thought about this moment for months but now it’s actually here, it’s surreal,”
“I can’t believe I’m here either. In this flat, which I’ve seen so many times on FaceTime. It feels so weird in the best way!” Ria laughed. “We’re going to have the best time this weekend.”
“We are. It’ll be incredible,” You breathed, trying to contain your excitement so that you would actually be able to get some sleep. The thought of being surrounded by so many fellow Star Wars nerds was electrifying.
“And don’t forget that panel tomorrow, when we finally meet Mando!” Ria exclaimed. “I’m sure he’s going to fall in love with me at first sight.”
“In your dreams, Ria,” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Goodnight, see you bright and early in the morning.”
“Goodnight bestie, I need to get my beauty sleep for Mando,” Ria added with a wink.
You shook your head with a grin on your face as you made your way into your bedroom, still utterly bemused by Ria’s utter conviction that the two of you were somehow going to encounter the man who was sworn to complete secrecy. You kind of admired Ria’s utterly unshakable confidence in the matter, even if it was a little delusional. At the end of the day, though, you knew it was all lighthearted. She wasn’t the type of person to try to hack into CCTV cameras or bribe the doctors and nurses at the hospital where a suspiciously-realistic cosplayer had surprised sick children. Ria loved The Mandalorian a great deal, but she also had other hobbies and interests.
As you tried your best to convince your body that it really needed to sleep before the Con tomorrow, you were struck by how surreal this all felt. Tomorrow, you would travel to what would become, for the next few days, the nerd centre of the world. It was an event that you had dreamt of going to for years, where all of the latest Star Wars projects were announced. Yet, you had never imagined it would be possible to attend, due to how expensive a trip abroad would be. Luckily though, ForceCon travelled around regularly and the stars had aligned to make this possible for you. When it had been announced that the next one would be held in London, you knew you had to do whatever it took to be there.
After almost an entire year of anticipation, you knew that in just a few short hours you would be there, at the event where everyone who was anyone in the Star Wars world and the people who admired them were to be found.
There was just one exception, though. Mando would never get to see how much the fans appreciated him. Keeping his identity a secret meant that he would never be able to feel the amount of love that fans held for him. Your heart constricted as you thought about it. Even though you had tried in vain to convince yourself that you didn’t really care that much about not knowing who he was, you thought it sad that the man, who was so beloved by people young and old, might never know how truly appreciated he was. You just hoped that one day, on his own terms, he would allow himself to feel some of it.
It was a thought that lulled you off into sleep, underneath the large poster of Season One that hung above your single bed.
The familiar sound of the opening theme to The Mandalorian jolted you awake. With its rhythmic drum beat and melodic bass recorder, it was really the perfect alarm. What wasn’t so perfect, however, was the ungodly hour at which it had interrupted the peaceful slumber you were enjoying. You fumbled around, bleary-eyed in the early-morning light as your hand felt around the nightstand to turn it off, frustrated at being awoken. Until you remembered precisely why you were awake at five in the morning.
For a second you lay there and closed your eyes, attempting to compose yourself and stop the fluttering in your stomach as the realisation dawned upon you: It was ForceCon day!
Finally, after months and months of anticipation, you would finally get to have one of the best weekends of your life. The big day was finally here and you and Ria did not want to miss a single second of time there, hence the early start. The venue for the Con, the Dockside Convention Centre, was a considerable distance from the outskirts of the city where you lived in your rented flat, which somehow fell within your budget despite how close it was to the tube station.
The journey to the convention centre was even further than your daily commute to the museum where you worked. The thought of a journey that would take upwards of an hour to start your day, before you had even contended with the crowds at the convention, was slightly distressing to you. But you knew that with Ria by your side, there was no doubt that you would be able to get through it.
Getting up at five meant that you had ample time to get ready for the event. Your outfit was comfortable and practical but still showed your nerdy side. It had been somewhat of a project for you in the run up to the convention, with a denim jacket that you had walked past in a shop window and fell in love with, decorated with various iron-on patches that were a nod to your favourite characters. You coupled it with a comfortable pair of black jeans that weren’t too tight – a must when doing as much walking as you were about to do this weekend – and your trusty favourite pair of shoes.
You wandered into the main room of your flat, quietly watching as Ria sat on the small couch and expertly applied the finishing touches to her make-up. Suddenly, she snapped the handheld mirror shut and turned to face you.
“Are you ready for the greatest weekend of our lives?!” Ria asked enthusiastically.
“Yes… but no… but yes!” You exclaimed, still unsure how to process the rush of emotions that you were feeling about the day ahead.
“Let me just fill my water bottle up and then I’m ready,” Ria said as she jumped up from the couch and grabbed the titanium bottle that was covered with various Star Wars characters.You chuckled at that. Despite how effortlessly cool your friend seemed to most people, even you, it was reassuring to know that at heart, Ria was still a nerd.
After one last check that you both had your passes for the event, you grabbed the backpacks you had carefully packed the previous evening, between episodes of The Mandalorian, and headed out, to where a weekend of nerd heaven awaited.
Waking up so early had meant that the two of you could take your time getting ready and then head out to the convention before the main rush hour began on the tube. Much as you loved your sleep and wanted to feel well-rested, being able to avoid the worst of the crowds was a deeply appealing prospect. Plus, you would have a chance to stop for breakfast closer to the convention hall and eat food that wasn’t horrendously overpriced.
But as you sat there, staring at the sandwich you had ordered and barely taken a few bites of, you seemed to have a mental block when it came to actually finishing the thing. You wanted to, you knew you needed to get some food in your body to give yourself the fuel for contending with the crowds at the convention. Try as you might, though, your mind was not onboard.
“Too nervous?” Ria asked with a knowing smirk as she munched on some fruit.
“I guess,” You shrugged, feeling as though your stomach had tied itself into knots and was attempting to strangle itself.
“You can always bring it with you. We’ll probably have to get in line and wait around for a while before we go inside. Perhaps you’ll feel like eating then,” Ria suggested.
“Yeah, good idea,” You smiled, suddenly feeling immensely relieved that you had someone else here with you. “I don’t know how I’d do this without you, Ria. Thank you.”
The two of you left the cafe with your takeout coffee cups and finally headed towards the convention centre. As you made your way towards the crowds of people, your stomach dropped as you noticed just how busy things were going to be. For the first few hundred feet, things weren’t too bad as you were sent down what appeared to be a wide, service road, built into the side of the convention centre with the masses of people who were all heading in the same direction as you.
You stuck to the side of the walkway, where you could see the roads and city below, and feel the fresh air on your face over the barrier that bordered one side of the walkway. As long as you could still see daylight and the crowds were moving, you were fine. Slightly stressed, but you could cope.
However, the sight that greeted you at the end of the walkway was like something from your worst nightmares. It was your first glimpse inside the packed convention hall, where you had been so certain that you would have the greatest weekend of your life. But if it involved walking into something as stressful as the sight before you, you were not so sure that it would be the incredible experience you had built it up to be in your head.
As far as you could see, in the biggest room you had ever stepped foot in, there was an endless sea of people. The space was enormous and industrial, with a black floor and white sliding doors at the far left end that opened sporadically to let attendees into the main hall. You felt sick as you looked at it, you couldn’t survive more than a few minutes in that space, especially without knowing how long you would be there for. But no one you encountered appeared to have any idea as to how long you would be in this space. You were just glad that you had arrived a little before the doors to the con opened.
You had expected that, given that ForceCon was officially endorsed by Lucasfilm, it would at least be professionally organised. Instead, though, it seemed as though there were a small number of stressed out volunteers responsible for herding the attendees into a series of pens, with no security or leadership in sight. The poor workers looked incredibly stressed and overwhelmed by the influx of people.
“Ria, I don’t know if I can do this.” You mumbled when you noticed the crowd of people that you were being swept towards as the volunteers motioned for you to fill one of the pens. It seemed as though it would never end, as far as your eyes could see there were people. You felt panic rising in your chest, how were you ever going to get out of here?
“Just breathe, bestie. Breathe.” Ria said, placing her hand upon your back soothingly. “This won’t last forever, it’ll all be worth it. Think about the Mando cosplays! Look, there’s one over there!”
But it was no use. Not even the greatest Mandalorian cosplay in the galaxy would be able to comfort you now. Panic was rising in your chest, you felt overwhelmed by being stuck between two metal barriers in a pen full of people.
You tried your best to focus on her words as you took a seat on the cold, hard floor of the hall. The buzzing in your head was back, it grew louder and louder. You shut your eyes and stared at the floor, hands covering your ears as you willed time to go faster.
“Won’t be long now. I promise,” Ria said reassuringly.
How was she always so calm and composed when you felt as though the world was ending over a few people in a room together? It seemed almost unfair. But you knew that Ria would not want you to feel bad, she just wanted to make sure that you were going to be alright.
Mercifully, before too long, the con opened and you eventually began to move out of the enormous room. At that moment, you felt excitement bubbling up in the pit of your stomach as it dawned on you that you were about to enter Star Wars heaven. You glanced for the first time at the various incredible cosplays that surrounded you, in awe of the hours each person had dedicated to their craft.
Any relief you felt was short-lived, though. The main hallway was not much better. You couldn’t move, or stop to think. The crowd continued plodding down the hall towards a destination unknown. You were sure it was the busiest place you had ever been in your entire life.
“Just keep swimming, swimming,” You chanted to yourself under your breath as a way to soothe yourself.
You took deep breaths and concentrated on the rhythmic thudding of your feet as you stared up the ceiling and continued on your way. You instantly felt lighter, the beginnings of a smile traced across your features when you looked up and saw a giant poster of Mando hanging from the ceiling. If you could just make it to him, you would be most of the way down the corridor and then you would almost be at your destination: the main hall.
Focusing on the Mando poster helped and before you knew it, you were there, surrounded by a dizzying variety of stalls selling more Star Wars merch than you had ever seen gathered together in one place in your entire life. You thought you had a pretty impressive collection yourself – having a proper, adult salary had made it easier to give into your whims and purchase a variety of collectibles – but this was really something else.
You were like a kid in a candy shop, mouth open as you wandered from stall to stall, taking in the wares of the various vendors. You felt like Mando the first time he visited Tatooine. He had wandered around just like you were, amazed by the variety of produce on display. Unlike Mando, though, you were unable to get even remotely close to the stalls. There was a throng of people gathered at each one. You were not the least bit assertive in crowds, you had no desire to engage in a battle with your elbows through a gaggle of fellow nerds for some slightly-overpriced collectibles.
“Shall we find somewhere to sit and catch our breath before the panel?” Ria asked, sensing your discomfort. For someone that you had only met face-to-face the previous evening, she was more perceptive than some people who had known you for years.
You headed out of the main hall, desperate to find any relief from the overwhelming noises and sounds that the thousands of people crammed inside the Dockside Convention Centre were currently creating. The first place that you noticed was a staircase. You ducked under the metal bar that surrounded the bottom of it and flopped down unceremoniously on the floor, finally feeling your nerves begin to settle as there was a physical barrier between you and the rest of humanity for the time being. Things suddenly felt a lot quieter and more manageable as the buzzing in your head began to subside. Ria sat opposite you, her blue eyes looking into yours concernedly.
“Ria, I’m sorry I’m such a nervous wreck. It’s just… it’s so much busier than I was expecting.” You admitted.
“Girl, shut up. This place is crazy. Like, the craziest place I have ever been in my entire life. I suffer with this shit too.” Ria admitted. “I think I’m just running on, like, the adrenaline of thinking about Mando being at that panel.”
“Ria, he’s not going to be at the panel!” You laughed. “Please stop being delusional!”
“Sure, there he is right now!” Ria giggled breathlessly as she pointed towards the main hallway, which had emptied somewhat since you had fought your way through it just a few minutes ago.
You had fully intended to make another jibe about Ria being delusional, but when you turned your head, the sight caused all coherent thoughts to leave your brain. You were transfixed at the sight before you. It was as though you had suddenly been transported a long time ago to a galaxy far, far away. The most incredible cosplay you had ever laid eyes upon was heading straight towards you. The armour itself was immaculate, the details on it really looked as if they were forged out of Beskar by a Mandalorian armourer. Of course you knew that screen realistic cosplays existed, you had obviously seen the viral footage of a Mando cosplayer visiting a children’s hospital a few months ago. But it was more than the armour that made your entire world pause on its axis. It was the way this cosplayer carried himself: the self-assured, confident swagger that you would recognise anywhere. The way his hands were held at his side, somewhere between relaxed and tensed, ready to put his finger on the trigger at a moment’s notice. For one brief, fleeting second: you could have sworn that the real Mando was actually walking towards you.
“Wow… that’s…” You stuttered, failing to find words that could capture your feelings towards the sight before you.
“Um, excuse me! I’m the one who gets called delusional and obsessed with Mando, but look at you!” Ria said with a knowing smirk, clearly where words had failed… your face had betrayed you. “You’re getting flustered over a cosplay!”
You couldn’t even deny it. You were feeling more than a little flustered. It was the first time you had ever seen a Mandalorian in real life. Nothing could have prepared you for it, the presence that the man had, even from this distance. Watching the way he carried himself as he had swaggered down the main hallway had been intoxicating to behold. It was also the way with his T-visor, that you never knew exactly where his eyes were trained. They could be right on you or they could be looking right past you, you would never know. As far as you were concerned, he had picked you out from the crowd, his eyes focusing on you and only you as he walked down the hall. It was an electrifying thought, you felt little bolts of electricity all over your skin. You had half a mind to run up to him and beg him to bring you in warm or cold, he could decide, you really weren’t fussy.
“Hellooooooo, bestie!” Ria said sarcastically, waving her hand in front of your eye line, which was still trailed off into the distance where the cosplayer had disappeared into the crowd. “Anyone home?”
“Sorry.” You said, shyly. Now that the Mando cosplay had walked past, you had sadly realised that he was not making a bee-line for you to sweep you off your feet, you felt a little embarrassed. “I just couldn’t stop staring. That was an amazing cosplay.”
“It was. Or maybe… it was really him!” Ria said, throwing her arms like a conspiracy theorist gif that your groupchat had sent one too many times.
You both collapsed into full belly laughter at that. Ria was so devoted to the bit at this point that you just went along with it. You silently called a truce: you would stop calling her delusional, it was a fun joke that had distracted your anxious brain from the throngs of people that surrounded you, just beyond the metal railing of your refuge under the stairs. Despite the distraction, they had not magically disappeared.
“The Mando panel isn’t for a couple hours yet. Is there anything you want to do beforehand?” Ria asked, once the two of you had finally stopped laughing.
“Uh. I don’t know. We could go and have a look around, find where the stages are maybe and then have lunch?” You suggested, not feeling like working your way through the hordes of people by the stalls again.
So Ria and you did exactly that, getting your bearings and orienting yourself in the massive convention hall. There seemed to be so much to see and do, you were so grateful in that moment that you had splurged on four day passes. It would probably take you four days to walk around the entire thing! Your exploration of the centre meant that by the time the panel came around, you were grateful that you would be able to sit down, you were more than ready to rest your tired, achy legs.
As you made your way into the room where the panel would be held, you went out of your way to thank the staff on the door. You knew most of the people who worked here were volunteers and a lot of the panel goers were looking straight through them. Manners cost nothing though, a simple “thanks” and a smile and nod were enough to make someone feel valued when they perhaps felt as though they were doing a thankless task. You couldn’t understand why more people wouldn’t take just two seconds to say thank you.
Your heart was thundering as you took a seat in the hall. For a strange moment, you felt as though you were back in a lecture at University. Everyone sizing each other up, wondering where to sit – should they leave a gap or get close to others, maybe strike up a conversation? Personally, you wanted to place as much distance between yourself and others as humanly possible and the thought of speaking to strangers made you freeze up in terror. But Ria, ever the extrovert, was quite happy to strike up a conversation with the guys next to you.
They were fans of Mando, but you could tell pretty quickly that they were casuals. They did not have the deeper love for the show that you and Ria held. After a few minutes of sitting around, the people who were hosting the panel emerged, walking down the gap between the neatly-arranged chairs to take a seat on the long table that sat on a raised platform so everyone in the room was able to get a good view of them. The room was long but narrow and you and Ria were sitting around 10 rows back. As you glanced behind you, you realised that it had filled up rather quickly. You were glad that you had been here well ahead of the scheduled start time to ensure you got a good seat.
The guys running the panel began messing around with their laptops so they could get the powerpoint they had created on the screen. They were certainly not what you were expecting for this panel. You had expected it to be on a bigger stage, with more fanfare. But it was actually just a small panel hidden away at the back of the convention centre, up a flight of stairs that people might have missed. You had wondered, momentarily, whether you should get up and leave… Yet something was telling you to remain seated and stay. Just because it hadn’t been what you were expecting, didn’t necessarily mean it was going to be a bad thing. The audience seemed to be friendly too, a combination of people who you hoped would ask some thought-provoking questions and wouldn’t turn this all into baseless speculation over who the actor behind Mando really was.
When it got started, though, it soon transpired that this was not going to be the discussion you thought it was. The guys running the panel were sharing their views about Mando as though it was one of the online Star Wars podcasts that you avoided like the plague. There was little room for audience participation. The chair of the panel, a man with a backwards baseball cap on, which was slightly cringeworthy considering he must have been pushing fifty, was called Jeff.
Jeff was very American, thrashing his limbs around exaggeratedly, imitating Mando’s fight style as his voice got quicker and higher pitched in enthusiasm for the tough warrior. Jeff and his colleagues were definitely the kind of people who watched The Mandalorian just to see him fight bad guys and kill them in cool, new ways. Obviously you enjoyed that too, but there was really so much more to the show and the character than just fighting. You wished that they could see that too, especially considering they were running a damn panel about it!
You were so utterly tuned out by their incessant ramblings that you turned your head towards the back of the room to indulge in a bit of people watching. Principally, to see if the two guys on your row that Ria had chatted to before the panel began were as bored as you were. It seemed that even they were utterly uninterested in Jeff and his buddies. You found that your relative boredom was mirrored on the expressions of numerous others in the room who were just as unenthused by Jeff and co’s surface-level analysis of the show you all loved. You felt at that moment that if you and Ria had somehow been able to lead a panel it would have been much more exciting.
You would have actually introduced some nuance and character analysis as the title of the panel had suggested would happen. Ria’s wild theory that this would be the place that Mando would reveal himself to the world had soon gone out of the window, too. Out of all the places in the world that he could choose (or not) to finally reveal his identity, a room tucked away in the far corner of the Dockside Convention Centre did not seem the most likely.
But your stomach dropped in the familiar way that it had when you were crouched underneath the staircase, catching your breath after the bedlam of entering the Con.
It was him.
The same cosplayer was back.
He was sitting on the last seat in the row, two rows behind and opposite you, perfectly straight with his shoulders back, hands resting on his knees. It was almost uncanny, the way he held himself… it was so much like the way you had witnessed Mando sit so many times on the show. When he visited cantinas or sat in his ship, Mando held himself in an uncannily similar position.
You shook your head, mentally telling yourself to snap out of it – you were being ridiculous! If Ria was thinking these thoughts, you would tell her to stop being crazy. You were usually the grounded, rational one. For even you to be getting caught up in such delusional thinking, well that was truly concerning. Perhaps it was thanks to the early start and crowds. Either way, it seemed as though you were really losing it.
You blamed it on Mando, all logical thought went straight out of your brain when it came to him. Of course the best Mando cosplayers would be here at this con. It wasn’t really him, but it sure was uncanny how realistic both the cosplay and way he sat was. Extremely uncanny. You didn’t have time to dwell on it, though… because Jeff was asking a question to the audience. One that you were keen to answer honestly and defend the character that you loved so much, with as much ferocity as if he was really listening to your every word.
“So, finally, we wanted to leave a few minutes for discussion about what the character of Mando means to all of you, here. You must be pretty big fans of the show to have found us all the way back up here!” Jeff joked, to a few laughs from the room.
You had gotten the sense since you had walked into this panel that Jeff and his buddies viewed everyone here with a baseline level of contempt. It was something that you couldn’t quite place your finger on, but you felt as though if a person did not entirely agree with his point of view, then he was not impressed by them.It was a shame, really, you loved hearing the opinions of others. Even if you didn’t agree with them, you always found out something new about yourself.
Jeff had only just finished speaking, and already there was a steady stream of people flocking to queue at the microphone positioned in the aisle. There was nothing on earth that could motivate you to go up there, so you sat, with your arms folded, and leaned back into your chair. This would all be over in a few minutes. Then there would be a hopefully much more interesting panel about historical parallels with Star Wars, something you were truly interested in, that you wanted to check out with Ria.
The first few audience comments were pretty dull. You disagreed with all of them almost entirely as they again reduced the concept of understanding a character to things such as seeing a face and knowing a name. Jeff just responded hollowly, thanking the speakers for their thoughts. But it did not provoke any deeper discussions like you had been hoping for.
That was certainly a disappointment, but it was not a reason for you to lose your temper. You just felt slightly numb to the whole experience, wishing it was over as soon as possible and already plotting your route to the next panel. It was dull, but inoffensive.
That was, until the next two speakers boiled your blood with their assumptions and cruel jibes.
“When I first started watching The Mandalorian I loved it. I really thought Star Wars was back!” A man in a Darth Vader hoodie, who was probably in his late thirties, said proudly as he echoed the empty talking points that you had heard over and over since The Mandalorian premiered. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. This guy was clearly someone who thought that Star Wars was all bad now. He probably bought into all the theories that his precious sci-fi franchise had been ruined by women. He continued his tirade: “But now, it’s just the same thing every week. A hollow, emotionless tin can man strutting around from planet to planet, taking guys out. Like, it was cool the first few times but it’s just getting boring now. We need to see his face!”
Your blood was slowly boiling as you heard all of these hollow criticisms of the show you loved so much. It truly upset you that a place you had believed would be full of fellow fans who would be eager to enthuse about the show alongside you and Ria had been nothing of the sort. Instead of the welcoming, open-minded environment you had expected, things had been wildly different, as the next speaker was about to prove once again.
The next man who spoke had long brown hair. He was dressed in a Mando t-shirt and jeans.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the show and all. But I just feel like we don’t know that much about Mando. It’s as if we, as an audience, are being held back from connecting with him fully because of some diva’s selfish demands to keep his identity hidden!” The man exclaimed. Several people laughed and applauded. He was probably around your age but it stunned you how drastically different your opinions on the show could be. Perhaps he spent his time online in different circles than you. In fact, you were almost certain that you had seen these conspiracy theories about Mando’s actor pushed by people who swore it as the gospel truth, even though there was absolutely no proof of it. But he was not done yet, levelling a final cruel jab at the actor who played Mando: “Seriously, the guy who plays him must be such an asshole. Imagine having to work with that guy!”
Your head was burning… that was too much. Once people got personal about the actor too, that did it for you. It was one thing to criticise the show, but to level insults towards the person behind the character, who clearly did not want his business in the public eye, was enough to compel you to speak up.
Before you really knew what you were doing, you had somehow risen from your seat, stumbled over a few bags and outstretched legs and now stood in front of the microphone. Jeff looked at you expectantly, the eyes of everyone in the room were on you. Suddenly the gravity of what you were about to do had dawned on you, you felt your pulse thundering in your ears. But then you remembered what the previous guy had said about Mando, and you opened your mouth to launch into a passionate defence of your favourite fictional character of all time.
“I think tying Mando’s identity to his name and face is a pretty narrow way of viewing how we can understand who someone truly is inside and what exactly motivates them. I mean, I think I’ve connected to his character pretty well without ever seeing his face or knowing his real name. That’s because Mando has proved time and time again what kind of man he is. The way he has risked his life multiple times to rid the galaxy of threats and evil shows that he is committed to securing a brighter future, even if he is not around to see it. This man is willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Sure, we don’t know his name or face or a lot about his origins, but I think to us, that should prove that he has nothing but noble intentions. That human side of the man beneath all of the armour allows us to connect to him on a far deeper level than just seeing a face and learning a name ever could.”
Jeff began to thank you for your thoughts, using the same hollow phrases that he had used for every previous speaker, but you were not done yet. For the reason you had stood up to speak was not only motivated by the way people had spoken about Mando, the character. It was not just accusations against the fictional man that you were here to refute, but also the way that they had tried to turn on the man beneath the Beskar.
“Also, I know no one outside this room will probably ever hear what had been said at this panel, but I think attacking the character of the man who portrays Mando, simply because he wants privacy, is unfair. I think we should always talk about people, online and publicly, as though they can read or hear what we say. We don’t know why he won’t say who he is, but I trust that he has his reasons. Even then, he doesn’t need to have a good reason,” You argued passionately, noticing how the trembling in your voice had ceased the more you spoke. “Everyone is entitled to their privacy for the simple fact of wanting to be private. I just think that we see Mando go from planet to planet, connecting with locals and communicating with them respectfully. He leaves every place better than he found it… I wish more people would take those lessons from the show, too, rather than how skilled Mando is at fighting and killing,” You made a pointed effort to look straight at Jeff as you made that last quip about his fighting skills, but he just stayed slumped in his seat, hand resting under his chin, looking utterly bored. Your words had done nothing to get through to him.
You walked back to your seat, head down, trembling. Speaking that much in public had been a lot more than you would ever have expected yourself to be able to handle. Ria was staring at you dumbfounded, her mouth open in shock.
“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Ria asked, astonished.
“I… uh….” You stuttered.
“Look, I knew you loved Mando, but that was insane!” Ria whispered excitedly, while beaming at you. “You defended him as if he was a real person, like he was actually here in the room! That was awesome, beyond badass! He’d be so proud of you, bestie.”
“Thank you.” You whispered, face suddenly feeling hot. You were sure you were visibly shaking after your public outburst. But it had been worth it, you had meant every word.
A few more people offered their thoughts but your head was still buzzing with the emotional exertion of public speaking, so you did not pay them much mind, even if they still repeated the same old tired arguments about Mando that you had just tried to argue against.
Finally, Jeff drew things to a close and then it was time for everyone to leave. He had invited people to come and speak to him at the front after the panel if they wished to, but you were definitely not going to be taking him up on that offer. You had believed that anyone given such an incredible opportunity to speak about something they loved at an event as prestigious as ForceCon would be nothing less than delighted. But clearly, you were mistaken. Jeff had seemed utterly bored throughout the panel, not least when people he did not agree with had spoken. You were not a fan of him and his backwards baseball cap in the slightest.
As the panel ended and people began to filter out, you glanced around to where the incredible cosplayer had been sitting. But it seemed that while you had been distracted by your emotional state after speaking so publicly, he had already made his way out. You were disappointed, you wanted to compliment him on his cosplay and maybe even get a picture with him.
Just being in his presence twice had been intoxicating, you had been unable to look away from him. When you saw him, it really felt like you were actually in the world of The Mandalorian. You had a strong desire to be near him again, but you were too late. The man was apparently long gone. But you didn’t want to dwell on that and ruin the rest of your experience. You still had three more days here. So it was time to get over your disappointment, even though you were still kicking yourself for not pointing him out to Ria.
As you made your way down to the main hall of the convention centre, you couldn’t help but feel your chest swell with pride when you remembered how you had spoken in such a surprisingly eloquent manner at the panel. It had really been so many steps out of your comfort zone, but you had proved to yourself that you could do it. This entire weekend, really, was out of your comfort zone. But so far, you were matching every hurdle before you.
Perhaps speaking up at the panel would be the start of a new, more confident you. A you that was unafraid to stand up for what she believed in.
But then, the idea of a simple panel at a sci-fi convention being some sort of life changing experience was surely an absurd notion.
I loved this chapter because I have been in readers shoes with the crowds being overwhelming but sticking it out (mostly) cause you love SW so much. I went to Celebration in Chicago and this was pretty much my experience(especially being awestruck at cosplayers lol).
I love that she stood up and spoke about the show and basically called out the ppl who were being ridiculous despite her nerves.
❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁
Word Count: 4508
Rating: Teen
Summary: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu.
Content Warnings: Past child abuse (impacts of Grogu's early childhood trauma is explored but what happened to him is not described in detail) and vomit (Grogu pukes but also not described in detail) - both things are as graphic as in canon.
Author's Note: Woo you finally get to meet Din in this universe! Really hope you like how I wrote him and I did his and Grogu's bond justice. Thank you for the kind words about this story, I'm so excited for you to see where it goes. If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this one, please let me know! Also HUGE thanks to @suresnips for being my beta and doing a great job at spotting when I miss words and skip to the next sentence because my brain runs at 2938mph!!
2. He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]
If a single one of the millions of viewers who knew him only as a formidable warrior were able see him now, Din Djarin mused, they would never believe that he could possibly be the person behind the tough character with a fearsome reputation that they knew and loved. Mando was famous to millions the world over for his strength and dogged resilience… but the man who portrayed him onscreen was currently wiping up bright blue puke from his son’s stained brown shirt, tutting at him affectionately as he did so.
Grogu had attacked a packet of cookies that had been momentarily left unattended on the table while Din was off taking a call and the little boy had, as usual, overindulged. It was a common theme with Grogu, as far as food was concerned. Din suspected it was something to do with the traumatic start to Grogu’s life, but he preferred not to dwell on that. It devastated him to imagine how much this tiny, helpless child had suffered before that fateful day when Din had crossed paths with him. Now though, for the rest of his life, Din knew that Grogu would want for nothing.
Din did not like to dwell on the day, which hopefully lay far in the future, when he would no longer be around to take care of Grogu. But Din comforted himself with the knowledge that he had more than enough funds to provide for his boy, for everything he could ever possibly need or want. And Din would give it to him happily.
Din knew that circumstances in his son’s early life had taken their toll and left lasting consequences that, as a parent, Din had to deal with every single day. Grogu had failed to meet several milestones, including speaking, that he should have for his age. Grogu had just turned three recently, but he had not yet uttered his first words. He struggled walking and moving as a normal child should, too. Grogu hated busy places and loud, bright environments. He would cry hysterically, so Din rarely took him anywhere, unless it was quiet and they had a quick way to get out.
But there were also so many moments that being a father to Grogu was the most joyous, incredible thing that Din had ever experienced. Although Grogu could not speak and did not always return gestures, the times when his big brown eyes would peer into Din’s filled him with a sense of pride that was almost overwhelming. To have that reassurance that Grogu was happy meant everything to Din. Even if the only thing Grogu did was stare at Din with his big brown eyes, with a slight smile on his face as he turned his favourite shiny ball in his hands over and over again, it meant everything to Din.
As Din wandered to the sink to wash the cloth that he had grabbed to tend to Grogu’s mess, he pondered – with a smirk – over knowing that if fans of the show could see him now, their illusion of the gritty, aloof warrior would shatter. They would instead see a completely different side to the man beneath the Beskar. A gentle, caring side that would never align with Mando’s fearsome reputation. It was strangely satisfying to Din to know that no one would ever get to see these two sides of him. There were only three people on this Earth who knew that Din Djarin was The Mandalorian: the show’s creators, and the leader of Din’s tribe. But Din had a strictly professional relationship with them. Sure, the creators had seen Din helmetless in some early meetings for the show, but they would never get to witness such a private moment between Din and his son. Likewise, while the leader of the tribe knew about Grogu and his fighting, Din was often separated from her by many miles. When they did cross paths, it was like a cordial encounter with a distant relative. Friendly but not too familiar.
Apart from the show’s creators and the golden-haired woman who was the leader of Din’s tribe, everyone else either knew him as Din, or Mando. Like most things in his life, Din was meticulous that the two versions of himself would never overlap and be known by a single individual.
Caring for Grogu was a key part of the reason why Din had fought for such a strict stipulation in his contract that his identity remain a secret. Fear of what people would think of him and protection from the often rabid nature of Star Wars fans was partially what had motivated Din’s insistence in concealing his identity, that was true. But there were other reasons why Din had fought so hard to maintain his privacy. Most of them were related to the small boy Din had assumed all responsibility for on that fateful day when their paths had crossed.
Agonising over whether to accept the role had been difficult for Din. Even more so after he had been forced to fight to maintain his privacy, by offering to accept the job on the condition that he would remain anonymous.
Of course, the multinational, mega-corporation that Din had been forced to negotiate with had not liked the proposal one bit, but he knew that he was in an incredibly strong bargaining position. After all, there was no one else on this planet that would be able to portray The Mandalorian as effectively as Din Djarin would be able to. He knew that, Disney knew that. It was why they had even approached him in the first place. So, they folded and Din’s identity remained a complete secret, known to only a handful of people. Even his co-stars had no idea about who he was, which was lucky considering how much of a loudmouth one co-star in particular was.
Yet it was not the sole reason that Din had pursued such a strict stipulation. The ancient Mandalorian Creed that Din followed viewed secrecy as a strength, a key to a survival of their traditions for so many centuries.
Din’s way of life was one that was becoming increasingly rare: there were not many people left who followed the Way as strictly as he and his covert did. But Din’s adherence to it was absolute. The gratitude that he felt for the people who had taken him in as a child and raised him as one of their own was a debt that, truthfully, he felt as though could never adequately repay. So living by his covert’s rules was the least he could do. It was far from a burden to Din.
But above preserving his ego from any harsh comments that may come his way, or maintaining the secrecy of his tribe and the Creed they followed… the primary reason that Din had been so insistent about the anonymity clause in his contract before he agreed to sign on to play The Mandalorian, was the desire to keep his son out of the spotlight.
Grogu was not Din’s biological son, from looking at the two of them side-by-side, that much was obvious. Although they shared similar dark, curly hair, Grogu’s was much curlier and he had a complexion darker than Din’s own olive skin. It was a deeper bronze and contrasted sharply with the child’s grey locks. Din was not entirely sure why Grogu’s hair had taken on such a hue, he supposed once again that it had to do with trauma from the first part of Grogu’s life, before he met Din.
It was precisely for that reason, Grogu’s welfare, that Din refused to invite any kind of intrusion into the little boy’s life by leading a life in the public eye, where strangers could scrutinise the pair and the way they lived their life. Besides, Din liked it this way, his anonymity clause allowed him to live a largely peaceful life, outside of the times he was required on set. The studios that The Mandalorian was filmed in were in the peaceful English countryside, convenient enough to be close by to the country’s capital but without treading inside the sprawling city’s boundaries.
Din had stipulated a small, quaint cottage next to peaceful, lush farmland not too far away from the studios as part of his contract. It was an ideal base for Din and Grogu between filming days. Plus, its location allowed him to explore the countryside and maintain his own training regime – portraying a Mandalorian onscreen was an incredibly demanding and physical role, after all. The studio had tried to set him up with trainers but Din had let them go after only one session. No one understood what it meant, physically, to be a Mandalorian more than Din Djarin did. He had more than proved that when he easily outworked the so-called professionals that had been hired to force him into a punishing regime. They were no match for Din, with all of his years of experience working various physically demanding jobs.
It was that training regime that Din was preparing to follow as he put Grogu down for a nap. It seemed after the incident with the cookies, Grogu was thoroughly worn out. So Din placed him down for a nap in the plushie covered cot in his room, which overlooked the picturesque English countryside.
Filming for the third season of the show was really beginning to ramp up and there were numerous action scenes and stunts that Din had to carefully prepare for. For a man in his mid-thirties, he was remarkably fit, with a strong, muscular physique that was pronounced but not overly buff. Din sighed as he attached the various pieces of armour to himself, in preparation for a session on the treadmill in the little outbuilding that had been transformed into a home gym to allow him to workout in private.
Din stared at his reflection in the mirror, as he entered the gym, cradling his helmet in his hand. He marvelled at how different he looked in the armour. It was surreal to him that he could shift from a stressed, tired father who had to mop up his son’s puke, to looking like an intimidating warrior in such a short space of time.
Of course, it was that intimidating aspect of his culture that The Mandalorian had originally intended to focus on. It was pitched as a show about a lone bounty hunter traversing the galaxy, but with Din’s input it had turned into something more profound. Din had passionately argued that Mandalorians should have a moral obligation to leave the places they visited better than they found them, it was a practice he adhered to with the way he followed his Creed. The Mandalorian’s signature phrase “This is the Way,” had also been included at Din’s own suggestion. If anything, Din had left The Mandalorian better than how he had found it. After the writers had met Din, they had been encouraged to transform the show from the hollow violence-oriented show that it had been pitched as into something with a little more humanity. It was precisely that humanity of the character that most viewers had fallen in love with.
Sometimes, it was hard to tell where the character of The Mandalorian ended and Din Djarin began. Mando was Din’s personality and fighting skills, only exaggerated to an extreme amount. After all, there was far more that came with being a Mandalorian than collecting bounties and hunting down bad guys. Looking after family was extremely important to Mandalorians and formed a fundamental part of their Creed. Din took that vow extremely seriously, as evidenced by the care he took towards his son. Grogu was always going to be the number one priority in his life.
As Din ran on the treadmill, pushing the limits despite the heavy armour and helmet that he was wearing, his mind wandered to his and Grogu’s story so far. Din had never seriously considered that it would be possible for him to be a father. It was not something that he had ever foreseen for himself. He had lost both of his parents at such a young age that for the first chunk of his life, attachment of any kind had terrified him. He had done his best to keep himself to himself, travelling between jobs with his head down, minding his own business and just anticipating his next pay day. Din had held down many jobs over the years – nightclub bouncer, security guard, personal protection for the elites, stuntman (which was the job that ultimately got him the contacts for the role of The Mandalorian) and he had even liaised with the intelligence services of various nations.
They sounded like the most thrilling jobs in the world and indeed to outsiders, Din supposed they were. But after the day he had crossed paths with Grogu, he had found that there was no job comparable to that of being a father. Looking after the little boy, watching him thrive and blossom into an adorable child after everything he had been through was truly the greatest privilege of Din’s life. It mattered to him far more than fame, fortune or anything else the world could offer him. Din would go to the ends of the earth for Grogu.
That fateful day, in that terribly dark attic, when Din pulled back the blanket over the white pram and found Grogu’s big, brown eyes peering up at him with nothing in them except sheer terror, Din had made a promise to himself that he would never again allow anyone or anything to make Grogu feel so afraid ever again, for as long as he lived. So far, Din thought that he had done a pretty good job. Even if he occasionally spoiled the child – how could he ever say no to those big brown eyes? – it was a small price to pay to know that Grogu was safe and happy.
Indeed, for the first few months, Din had not understood much at all about the child he had strode purposefully out of that house with. Din had no idea who he was, or where Grogu came from, if his parents were even still alive. For a while, Din had not even known Grogu’s name. All Din had known for certain was the unlikely bond the two of them shared. It went beyond words or description, the overwhelming affection and protectiveness he felt for the little boy was more than he had ever felt for another being in his entire life, certainly since the deaths of his parents.
Din had not wanted to do anything to jeopardise that, keeping Grogu hidden when he went to his various jobs. But there came a point when Din knew this was untenable. Sooner or later, they would slip up and someone would find out about Grogu. Perhaps they would even take the little boy from him. That was a risk that Din could not afford to take.
It wasn’t until Din realised that and finally felt secure enough to show Grogu to the leader of his covert that things had started to move quickly. Journeying to the last known location of where the tribe had been hiding, deep in the Mojave desert in a collection of caves, had been daunting to Din. He had been unsure of how the leader would respond to an outsider in Grogu. But fortunately, she had been nothing but welcoming and accepting of the small boy who seemed to have an incredible ability to effortlessly charm everyone he encountered.
The golden-haired woman who led Din’s covert had insisted that Din take Grogu to the local authorities. A sympathetic woman with bright blue and white hair that contrasted with her coppery skin, called Ahsoka Tano, had vowed to take on Din’s case and assured Din that she would do her best to ensure that Din and Grogu would be reunited.
Ahsoka had believed every word of Din’s story, no matter how far-fetched it had appeared. Din had felt tremendous relief as they sat there together in the office. Despite the formality of the setting, Ahsoka had made Din feel instantly relaxed. Din had taken on groups of dangerous men as though it was second nature, but sitting there in the office as the story of how he happened across the child was cross-referenced had been perhaps the most terrifying ordeal of them all.
Ahsoka had told Din that his son’s name was Grogu and that he had also lost his parents when he was young. Grogu had been sent to some distant relatives, who had taken good care of him until tragedy had befallen them too. Details were murky, but it seemed that Grogu had then passed around various shady establishments, in the hands of various nefarious characters. That was, until Din encountered him as part of his line of work at that particular time – liaising with local law enforcement to run a sting on a drug ring. But there were no real firm details of Grogu’s life from the time between the relatives who had taken him in being brutally murdered and when he met Din.
Then the two of them had been shown to a playroom, with a two-way mirror, where a collection of social workers and law enforcement would observe the two of them interacting. The entire ordeal made Din nervous, but he just concentrated on playing with the shiny ball – which was Grogu’s favourite toy – and tried to forget about the professionals observing the two of them, unseen, no doubt making their notes. Din’s hands had been trembling, so nervous was he that Grogu would be taken away from him.
When Din left the room, he was told that everything appeared to be in order thus far and Grogu should be allowed to return to him. But first they had to conduct some checks to verify Din’s story and ensure that Grogu would come to no harm if Din officially adopted him.
Standing there in the office, watching as an emergency foster parent named Luke Skywalker left with Grogu, Din had cried in public for the first time in his life. He had been unable to stop the genuine tears streaming down his cheeks as the little boy who had changed everything for him left. Din did not know whether he would ever see him again, though he had promised Grogu that he would in the brief moment they had been allowed to spend together before Grogu was taken away.
It was a memory that was almost bringing Din to tears now, as he set the treadmill to a lower speed and walked to end his workout. As his long legs stretched and his feet thudded rhythmically against the moving surface, his heart ached as he remembered how shattered and broken he had felt in that moment. How he had feared that he would never feel true happiness again.
The period between Grogu leaving had been perhaps the toughest time in Din’s adult life. He had just felt as though he was getting to know who Grogu really was, their bond had reached new depths. Cruelly, immediately after feeling as though he was really getting to know Grogu and even finally learning the name of the boy who had changed so much in Din’s life, the child had been snatched away from him. He had to keep going though, for Grogu.
After months of wandering around aimlessly, Din had finally received a call with an update. Grogu was to be returned to his care. Despite the suddenness of the news – Din did not even have proper lodgings or consistent employment – there had not been a second thought in Din’s mind about taking Grogu back. Din returned to the office where mere months ago, he had feared his life had been as good as over.
Din had been stunned when he was summoned back to the office, having expected to see Skywalker himself, it was in fact a colleague of Ahsoka’s, called Artoo, who had handed Grogu back to a grateful Din. It was an overwhelming experience and there had been many tears shed and cuddles that night, when Din had finally been able to take Grogu home.
Although Din’s life was in a period of uncertainty, Grogu’s return had coincided with the negotiations for him to appear as The Mandalorian. Getting Grogu back had lit a new fire in his belly, both to secure the job and to ensure his son’s protection with the anonymity clause. It had not been an easy process, with much adjustment and many stressful hours of negotiations. But when negotiations had finally ended with an agreement which adhered to Din’s terms, it had been an incredible feeling.
After the contract with Disney had been finalised with Din’s demands honoured, a strict set of rules had been agreed upon for everyone working on the show. Din would don his armour before arriving at the studio and the only two people in the studio who were aware of his true identity were the show’s creators. The cast were fully aware that the actor portraying The Mandalorian wished to maintain his anonymity. It didn’t stop them from trying, though. A certain curly-haired co-star named Peli Motto, who Din enjoyed spending time with despite how extroverted she was, had done her best to catch him out. But she was no match for the decades Din had spent hiding his identity, fading into the background like a wallflower.
Aside from his castmates' curiosity, Din had constantly shied away from his role of The Mandalorian. He didn’t have social media and had only recently mastered texting. Aside from that, although he preferred to stay at home, if he did venture out and happen across a Mandalorian shirt, the embarrassment Din felt was almost paralysing. Din was terrified each time that they would somehow be onto him and realise perhaps through how he walked or his build that he was in fact the man behind the character they loved so much.
The most Din had ever done in terms of publicly acknowledging to himself as The Mandalorian, was when he had visited the local children’s hospital in full armour to spread some joy to the sick children there. It had been a little act of kindness that had been suggested to him by the creators of the show. To the doctors, nurses, patients and their parents, the visit from Mando was done by a kindhearted, enthusiastic fan of the show. Din had been terrified of repercussions when pictures had appeared in the local paper, even though his visit had been cleared through official channels. His visit had also apparently gone viral on social media, not that Din had seen any of it. Peli had delighted in telling him about it, though, even reading out some of the more salacious comments about how hot he looked in the armour.
The public had been amazed that such a realistic-looking costume could be made, fans had been begging for the man to reveal how he had crafted such an incredibly realistic cosplay. Of course, the truth could never be revealed. Din never planned to reveal his identity, no amount of money could ever tempt him – and he had been offered life changing sums, numerous times in fact.
But the way the kids' faces lit up on that day at the hospital weighed on Din’s mind a lot. That was worth more to him than any amount of money. Some of them had been very ill, he had known that their prognoses were not good. But the sheer joy that Din was able to evoke in others just by dressing in his armour had opened his eyes to the impact that this character was having in the outside world, outside of the self-imposed isolation that Din kept himself in. It gave him an idea, one related to a conversation that had on set earlier in the day.
Din knew the reason his mind had turned to such memories. As he made his way back in the house, after his work out he lingered in the kitchen, warring with himself whether he should open it.
An envelope lay unopened on the kitchen table, next to where Din had been attending to his son’s blue-cookie-induced wardrobe malfunction earlier in the afternoon. It was an invitation to a fan convention that had been enthusiastically pressed into his hand by his curly-haired co-star on set the previous day.
Peli Motto had boundless enthusiasm and energy. Although she portrayed a minor character in the show, she was nevertheless a fan favourite and she loved interacting with the large, passionate fan base that the Mandalorian had. Peli had been bemused that her character had received such a great reception – of course there was always going to be a vocal group of haters on social media, but for the most part people loved the kooky mechanic from Tatooine – but she had been immensely grateful for it. The amount the fans had loved her had encouraged the shows’ writers to gradually include her in a greater number of scenes. Perhaps that was why Peli always felt so compelled to visit these conventions and give back to the fans. Din could think of nothing worse. Whereas Peli was most comfortable in a room full of people, Din was far more shy and reserved, his personality mirrored Mando’s in that way.
But something was telling Din Djarin to open that envelope, his official invitation to the convention. Although he had no plans to go, Din’s curiosity got the better of him and he reached for the envelope.
The elaborate font was printed on glossy paper and Din found his eyes scanning the words:
GalaxyCon
London, UK
14th, 15th, 16th & 17th June 2024
Dear Mando,
We would be delighted if you would join us for some out of this world fun at our 17th annual ForceCon at the Dockside Convention Centre in London, England this June!
Please find attached your badges for entry. They will be upgraded once you arrive. We are running several panels about The Mandalorian and we would be honoured if you would attend them as a special guest! If you are interested, please contact our Invited Guest Assistant Cara Dune on 073790848.
We hope to see you there!
– ForceCon Team
Din had no intention of actually taking up the offer to attend a panel or to liaise with the woman, who was certain to be incredibly sycophantic, as those interacting with famous names occasionally could be. But he reasoned that it couldn’t hurt to go along in his armour as just another fan, with the regular badges. Din planned to take some photos, meet some kids. He would only stay for a couple of hours and then he would be on his way again. What was the worst that could happen?
It wasn’t like fan conventions could possibly be life-altering experiences, anyway.
❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁
Word Count: 4690
Rating: General
Summary: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend.
Content Warnings: None!
Author's Note: Hope you liked the start! My love of mass transit systems bleeds through, I think. But I hope I captured how wonderful being part of a fandom and forming online friendships can feel! Thanks to @suresnips for being my beta!
1. Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader's POV]
Spending your mid-twenties obsessing over a fictional character with fellow fans online was not exactly how you envisioned your life unfolding, but it seemed that the universe had other plans in store for you. You couldn’t be too disappointed with this outcome though, as the comforting familiarity of your favourite show and the community surrounding it was like a tight, warm embrace that had seen you through your toughest days. Just like today, when you would lean on The Mandalorian as a crutch yet again, as settling in to watch an episode would be the comfort you needed at the end of yet another miserable day.
It had been a draining day that seemed like it would never end. You seemed to be having an awful lot of them recently, where any little thing that could possibly have gone wrong had gone wrong. Work was busier than usual, with plenty of colleagues pestering you with questions and asking for assistance on tasks, when you had quite enough of your own work to occupy yourself with. Perhaps worst of all, you had forgotten to charge your headphones. Your heart sank as you went to turn them on just before you left work, only to find that there was no charge left. It was a major inconvenience as it meant that the soundtrack of your favourite show was not there to transport you to a different galaxy as you began your journey home. Instead, all you could hear was the relentless noise of the city. The cars and the people that never seemed to shut up for even one single second.
Your feet thundered against the pavement, the rhythmic thuds helping to ground you despite the loss of comfort that your precious headphones provided. Things were finally starting to look up. Well, they were, until you felt a spot of water against your left cheek. You sighed and looked up towards the sky, noticing the grey clouds that had suddenly rolled in from nowhere, and the eerily cold breeze that was suddenly swirling all around you. Rain was imminent.
To add insult to injury and make your already torrid day even worse, the heavens promptly opened. And you had not worn a coat, nor brought an umbrella in the trusty backpack you carried everywhere. Even though the sky was a little grey, it had been a perfectly pleasant, warm morning when you stepped out of your building that morning.
You muttered curses under your breath as the rain began ferociously pelting you, furious at your unpreparedness. You quickened your place, hurrying to the closest station to the museum you worked at as you continued to curse the weather with a variety of colourful language, but it had predictably done nothing to halt the relentless downpour. Even though summer should be approaching, the weather was awful. For what felt like weeks now, the weather had nothing but cloudy, cold and grey. It was beginning to grind you down. You just wanted to finally see some sun so you could enjoy the warmer months. Winter felt like it had never really ended.
Mercifully, you eventually made it into the station, after ducking and weaving through the dithering tourists that lingered outside the prestigious institution in which you worked. You shook your head, hoping some of the water that had drenched your face and hair would at least fly off and prevent you from sitting on a crowded tube while soaked to the bone. You brought your arms around you, suddenly aware of how unpleasantly cold you felt after getting so wet in the rain.
But fortunately, as you descended deep beneath the city to the platform, the temperature rose. The tunnels, far below the city, had been built long ago; with their poor ventilation, they retained all the heat generated by the crowds. Sometimes it could be stuffy and feel as though there was no air, but today you were weirdly appreciative of the quirks of the tube.
Your momentary appreciation for the mass transportation system soon disappeared though, when you finally emerged onto the platform. There was a seemingly endless sea of bodies, crowding into every available space. You took a deep breath and squeezed between them, taking advantage of several confused tourists to position yourself just behind the yellow line in a spot that you knew would be in a prime location for the doors when the tube finally pulled up.
You tapped your foot impatiently as you stood on a crowded platform waiting for the tube to finally arrive, surrounded by the terrible din of an unappealing combination of annoyingly loud tourists and stressed-out commuters. To top off your miserable day, the line you needed to take to get home was suffering from delays, a fact the irritating trill voice of the announcer kept reminding you. They were sorry if it caused you inconvenience – of course it did! The empty apologies did nothing to quell the pounding in your head.
You were sick of crowds and noise, you had endured more than enough of it for one day. Work had been so busy that at one point, you felt as though your head was going to explode from all the tedium. The gradual buzzing in your head that you felt when you were annoyed had quietly begun in the early morning and had just gotten louder and louder throughout the day. You were exhausted.
The rumble of the train finally hurtling through the tunnel towards you was for a moment, you were convinced, the greatest noise you had ever heard. You took a few deep breaths in preparation before it finally pulled up, now was time to fight your way through the sea of limbs and bodies to cram yourself inside the sweatbox on tracks that would take you to the comfort of your own home. To Mando. The man who helped pick you up whenever you were feeling down, without ever being able to know the impact he was having on your life.
It was the thought of how your heart would leap when you started the next episode in your rewatch and first saw his shiny form sauntering across your screen that seemed to carry you through the crowds you usually detested without draining too much of your dwindling energy reserves. You still winced, though, as you clambered aboard the sweltering carriage that was already likely too full to accommodate any more passengers. You knew there was no getting around it. This was just the reality of living in a major city like London. It was you who had been so determined to move here, after all. Eventually, after a lot of shuffling, you found yourself face-to-face with the dark brown musty jacket that belonged to a man who seemingly had not been acquainted with the wonders of deodorant.
You fixed your gaze on the ceiling above you and tried to imagine yourself anywhere but here. You pictured Mando scything through a group of bad guys and imagined you were as strong as him. You reminded yourself over and over that this would not last long; there were only a couple of stops to a major train station, meaning the crowd would thin and you would hopefully get some more peace far away from the man’s musty jacket. You just about held it together for the next few stops, wishing you were already at home. You visualised the euphoria of finally walking through the door to your apartment, ready to change into comfortable clothes and settle down to watch your favourite show. Unfortunately, your illusion was constantly shattered by the crowds in the carriage with you.
Finally, though, you arrived at the stop where most crowds would depart and with the worst of the crowds having departed the tube, you were able to find a seat facing the window. Although there wasn’t much to see in the tunnels, you knew with every rattle that you were closer to home. You briefly considered the possibility that if your fellow travellers knew that sometimes, the only thing that got you through the day was knowing that you could come home and watch an episode of The Mandalorian, they would dismiss you as a pathetic loser. But you supposed that people coped in other ways, with harmful and destructive habits that caused pain to other people. You were not harming anyone with your passion and love for The Mandalorian, even if you knew it was not the most socially acceptable hobby for a grown woman.
Despite how sad your routine would probably sound to most people, the bond between you and The Mandalorian was stronger than any disparaging remarks that could come your way. Indeed, there were very few people in your life who truly understood the love you had for that show. Oh sure, there were casuals you had encountered, like your friend and colleague Tom, who was also a viewer of The Mandalorian – at least you had someone to occasionally discuss the latest episodes with.
But your chats with your workmate were nothing deeper than how many people Mando had taken out in the latest episode and whether one day he could be seen on the same level as Vader in terms of iconic Star Wars characters. It was all very surface level and you felt reasonably sure, despite your closeness, that Tom would be at best bemused by your online activity and contemplate involving some kind of local authority at worst. Better that some things were kept secret.
Fortunately, you had a community of people online who unquestionably got it. You had them to talk to about the show that had become such a big part of your life. The Mandalorian had come to you at a difficult time in your life, a time when you most needed it. Recent years had not been kind to you, as they hadn’t been for most people. With global pandemics and both man-made and natural catastrophes, there were plenty of horrors awaiting you at life’s every turn. But you were so grateful that you had the show you loved so much and the people you had found because of it to help see you through.
It had seemed that you were destined to find it at the exact moment when you did. At one of your lowest points, Mando had been there, with his deep voice and confident swagger to soothe you on your darkest days. To lose yourself for a few precious moments at the end of each difficult day and just watch the character that you loved so much flying around space, fighting bad guys and leaving each place better than he found it was deeply engrossing and comforting to you.
It didn’t matter to you that you did not have the faintest idea about what the man behind the helmet looked like. To you, The Mandalorian was the perfect sci-fi character. You had grown up loving the galaxy far far away and all things Star Wars, always keeping up with the latest releases and discussing them with your family and friends, but you would never have considered yourself a superfan who knew everything about it. It was not until you had started watching the show about the lone bounty hunter that a switch in your brain was flipped and you became completely, hopelessly obsessed with it. The musical score captured the mood perfectly and complimented the stunning visuals, the wide shots of landscapes as your favourite character travelled across whatever planet he found himself on that week, flying through the galaxy in his beloved Razor Crest. Every time you listened to music from the show – you were rarely seen without headphones, they were seemingly glued to your head – it was as though you could imagine yourself pacing through the galaxy alongside Mando. It was a way to get inside his head, imagine his emotions and how he carried himself.
You had been a little late to the party, only watching the first season after it had already aired in its entirety. But you had more than made up for lost time, completely immersing yourself in the world. You were pretty sure you had read absolutely everything about him and memorised the scant details that you knew about his life. Part of the allure of the show was how mysterious the character was himself. No one had ever seen his face nor did anyone know his real name, he was simply known as Mando. His need for secrecy was necessitated by the ancient Creed he belonged to, that followed a strict way of rules. Mando would never bend or break them for anyone, no matter how much fans fantasised about being the one to finally pull the lone gunslinger out of his shell and break through the harsh emotional walls he had put up for himself.
After you had finished watching the first season, you joined the online fandom and quickly met a group of like-minded fans who were just as obsessed with all things Mandalorian as you were. You had found your tribe; you found solace in your online friends. They all shared the same passion for the show in a way that none of your friends in real life understood. The first person you had ever really spoken to had grown to be your closest friend Ria. You still remembered how nervous you were about speaking to her. She was a popular author who wrote many of the most well-received fanfics about Mando that appeared online after the first season had aired. But after you had nervously left your username on social media in her comment section, you found that she was just as lovely and welcoming as you had hoped when you began talking to her. After all, you were both, by definition, nerds who most people would see as losers for being so obsessed with one character. There was no need for hierarchy or competition here.
After meeting Ria, she introduced you to some of her friends and you had all joined a group chat where you seemed to message each other constantly. On the train on the way to work, at lunch, last thing at night… there was always someone there to chat with about Mando. It helped that you were spread out across so many different times, all the way from Australia to Argentina and many places in between. The anticipation you had all felt for season two had reached a fever pitch before it was aired and, thankfully, it had lived up to all expectations. Speculating about what was to come in each episode with your online friends had been incredibly exciting. Not knowing what was coming next, who Mando would have to find or where he had to travel had been thrilling. After you had seen the first season, there had not been long to wait for the second season, which was released within a year. But now, there had been no new episodes for a few months as they worked on the next season. The wait was agonising, but your friends were helping you through.
Every single one of you in this group chat had undergone, at various stages, an identical process where you became completely enamoured by this same character, finding yourselves thoroughly charmed by his swagger and mystery. Each one of you, despite the distance that separated you, had found yourselves falling down the rabbit hole and becoming completely obsessed with the lone bounty hunter from a secretive warrior society, bound to never reveal his name or face to a single soul.
The casting had been perfect… because just like the character on the show: in real life, you had absolutely no idea who the actor behind The Mandalorian was. Not a single one of you had any idea who portrayed Mando. His identity had been kept a complete secret – with the most watertight NDAs in history, you suspected – which was a highly unusual move in Hollywood. You were sure whoever he was must have a good reason for it. After the popularity of the first season and the viral phenomenon it had become, you couldn’t help but suspect that the man who played Mando, whoever he was, was probably extremely thankful for his decision to stay out of the limelight. You were sure that he would have been subjected to insane levels of scrutiny from the media and fans of the show. Indeed, even without his name and face being public knowledge, there was still plenty of that.
Sometimes you felt a little sad that you would never get to hear about Mando from the actor’s perspective. Other cast members gave interviews and attended cons, but there was no way to ever get that interaction with your favourite character, the one you cared about the most. Although you remained in the dark both about his identity and the reasoning behind all the secrecy, you respected whatever reason he had for hiding it. After all, you knew for certain that there was no one else on the planet who could have played Mando as well as the actor who was portraying him. With his confident walk and deep, gravelly voice, he was already an icon without even knowing it.
Despite your respect for the actor behind Mando – you never really joined in with the speculation unless it was a joke. The trend #beyonceismando had been your favourite example of that. But sadly, most fans of the show did not share your restraint. Some of your friends could even be guilty of taking it a little too far sometimes, but you let it go. Life was too short to go around policing what other people did on the internet. Besides, you knew your friends well enough to feel confident that they could never be truly malicious.
Due to the actor’s anonymity, speculation reached dizzying levels that you sometimes worried could be too much for anyone to live up to – you had seen every possible theory online. To you, online speculation should be fun without turning into something creepy and invasive. It was a fine line. A line that you did your best to tread, remembering there was ultimately a human being at the centre of the speculation. Your friends could let themselves go a bit more, but you tried your best to reign it in.
The secret identity of Mando’s actor led to all kinds of wild theories. Some swore that he was actually a she, there was a woman underneath the suit and that was why Disney had to keep it secret. Others insisted that Mando was really an alien, with super strength and abilities straight out of Star Wars. There was also a sizable majority who believed the reason for his secretive identity was because the actor was straight out of the army and had killed thousands in real life. Speculation ran particularly wild on social media: everyone hoped that their favourite actor was somehow the man behind the helmet, even if their schedules did not line up and their voices did not match, which led to more theories that his voice was being altered somehow to conceal his identity. That particular theory meant everyone could now imagine their particular favourite actor was behind the character that had become such an iconic figure in pop culture.
Indeed, most of The Mandalorian’s appeal to the general public was the mystery and the speculation as to his true identity. Some people only watched every episode, thinking that would finally be the week he removed his helmet and their theory would prove to have been the correct one all along. Some people scrutinised every single shot, wondering if the mask had slipped for even a second. People had even tried to hack into the CCTV cameras of the studios where the seasons were being filmed.
You couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t enjoy indulging with your online friends. You had spent countless hours talking to them, laughing at their attempts to piece together his identity from the scantest of information. They scrutinised the internet for images to compare his build and height compared with other known actors who were in the right age range. They were convinced that perhaps the way he held himself – the gait of his walk, the stance he took with his hands on his hips, the way he often shifted his weight on one leg – could give them clues as to his identity that they were so desperate to crack. You left them to it, laughing at how they could turn the smallest things into some kind of full-blown theory and proof. But to you, Mando was just as amazing without you ever knowing anything about who he was beneath the helmet. You loved the show and the character much more than you loved the online theories.
Ultimately, watching the speculation unfold was all good fun (at least for you) and proved to be a welcome distraction that helped you to get through the horrors of being in your mid-twenties. Like the situation you found yourself in now – having to exit the tube and make food after a long day of work.
Daydreaming about Mando and the friends you had made had passed the time perfectly, your stop was next and you couldn’t wait to finally be off the tube with all of its furious rattling. Thankfully, by the time you made it to street level, the rain had ceased. The humidity had increased in its place, though and any remaining dampness on your clothes from your earlier drenching magically evaporated in the hot air.
Only the stairs up to your apartment separated you from Mando now, and you felt the final energy reserves draining as you ascended them. You sighed as you turned the key and pushed the door open, both in relief at finally being home after such a difficult day and pure exhaustion.
There was nothing you wanted more than to sloth out in front of the TV and watch your favourite space cowboy do his thing on your screen. But unfortunately, you were an adult. No one would magically appear with a plate of food, much as you would have appreciated it. You headed into the kitchen to begin preparing your food. You wondered what Mando would be like in the kitchen (everything came back to him eventually) – did he even eat? You had never seen it on screen, at least. You wondered if he even could eat under the helmet. Perhaps you’d text Ria about that later, and see her thoughts. Maybe she’d even write a oneshot based on it and gift it to you.
As you stood there in your small kitchen, stirring the ingredients in the pan that would constitute your dinner – you realised just how this show had invaded every crevice of your brain. The Mandalorian had undeniably entered your brain in a way that made you think of it almost constantly. Sometimes, when you were walking around on your lunch break, you would imagine whether anyone you passed in the street could be the man that you were so enamoured by. You felt certain that you’d recognise Mando’s broad shoulders anywhere, even if you were right next to him. But it was a fruitless task, one that you knew deep down you would never get answers to. It wasn’t like he was just going to magically appear next to you one day or anything.
With your dinner plated up, you made your way to the front room to eat in your preferred position – on the sofa, in front of the TV. Sure, being an adult was hard sometimes but it meant that you got to indulge in little luxuries like this. Your family would probably freak out if they saw how you ate – hunched over on the couch, squealing with a mouth full of food over scenes you had watched dozens of times before – but you didn’t care.
As you flopped down on the couch, ready to watch another episode of The Mandalorian while eating your dinner, your phone buzzed with a message from one of your best online friends. You had met Ria shortly after you had felt compelled to make an account after finishing the first season of The Mandalorian, but you had yet to meet in person. That was all going to change very soon, though: she was flying in to attend a convention with you next week. The promise of not only finally meeting your best friend, but also getting to spend time surrounded by others who loved The Mandalorian just as much as both of you did at the convention, had honestly kept you going recently. It was the subject of the con that was the reason for Ria’s messages:
[thisistheslay] 17:57: OMG! OMG! There’s gonna be a Mando panel at the con next week. WE HAVE TO GO!!
You tapped out a reply:
[ilovemando] 17:57: what panel? and when?
[thisistheslay] 17:58: Literally the first day at 2pm. It’s called ‘The Man behind the Mandalorian: Exploring the Identity of the Galaxy’s Best Bounty Hunter.’ We NEED to be there, like you don’t understand!!
[thisistheslay] 17:59: HELLO bestie, what if HE’S THERE! What if they finally unveil who he is!!
You put your phone down on your lap and let out a small laugh as you rolled your eyes. Ria was constantly convinced that Mando was finally going to reveal his identity. It was based on pure speculation at worst and half-baked rumours at best. It had been an ongoing debate between the two of you throughout your friendship, you doubted that Mando would ever reveal himself. He had left it this long, why would he choose to reveal his identity now? But it was all in good fun, after all. You knew how much Ria truly loved the show and Mando. Just like you, for Ria, this speculation was all a bit of fun. She wasn’t one of the toxic people who said they would never watch another episode if the actor who played Mando turned out to be ugly. Yes, unbelievably, that was something that you had actually seen people write publicly online, for others to see. Maybe even the man who played Mando himself. It made you feel sick, they didn’t deserve him or the show.
You texted back:
[ilovemando] 18:03: oh i do, but not like you. yeah we’ll go… don’t be disappointed when mando doesn’t show tho
[thisistheslay] 18:04: No he’s going to be there! I can just FEEL it!!
[ilovemando] 18:05: ok sure, whatever u say. gotta eat but i’ll message you later
You really did have to go. No distractions would come between you and an episode of The Mandalorian, especially not while eating your dinner. As you sat back and watched the episode you had seen dozens of times before – in this one, Mando was tasked with hunting down a group of rogue mercenaries on a prison ship – your mind wandered back to Ria’s messages. You knew she was just being her usual ridiculous self, losing it over crumbs in an exaggerated, ironic way… but you couldn’t help but wonder about what you would do if her words came true. What if you did, one day, come face to face with Mando? What would you say? Would you even realise when he was in the same room as you, would it be an obvious, earth-shattering feeling? Or something far more subtle?
It was a ridiculous topic. But despite yourself, it was one you spent the rest of the evening ruminating over. The prospect of attending the con was nerve-wracking already – it was going to be a large, crowded event with many people in an unfamiliar environment. That was already setting your nerves on edge, even without the prospect of Mando being there. But thinking that there was perhaps the smallest chance that you could be about to lay eyes upon the man who brought your favourite character to life…
You know everyone has those daydreams of what kind of speech they'd deliver if they ever won at an awards show? WELL... I think I saw myself tonight on that stage a little bit because I would definitely end any speech in front of such an audience with "I'm gonna have a panic attack and I'm gonna leave."
He was so real for that (I hope he's handling the shock of it well)!
titsay
stormborns
theartofmadeline
kianamaiart
baratheonpilled
snowghoul
