41, she/her, veteran fanfemme, follows/likes from @veterinaryrambles. Art account is @doodlingfoolishness. Fic on AO3 as LoonyLupin/fanfoolishness. Currently nuts for Veilguard. Other fandoms include Bad Batch, JFO/Jedi: Survivor, The Mandalorian, Severance, Steven Universe, Mass Effect, and Bioshock Infinite. Check the menu for fic links and tags :)
Hey folks! I’ve suddenly found myself writing enough Mandalorian fic that it makes sense to do a masterpost. All of my stories are also on AO3 under fanfoolishness / LoonyLupin, if you prefer to read there, but if you’d rather stay in tumblr, here we are.
My stories tend to be angsty to bittersweet, with a strong focus on Din and Grogu’s familial bond, with some additional focus on Din’s own trauma. Occasional appearances by other characters include the Armorer, Peli Motto, Greef Karga, Cara Dune, Kuiil, IG-11, and Boba Fett. No plans for writing any romance, but if I do it will be clearly labeled as such.
Tag: My Mando fic. All fics listed in chronological order of the series, but are written randomly as they occur to me.
Stories are also tagged #noromo Mando for stories that contain no romance.
duty: 500 words. A Nikto pirate does their best to take care of a strange prize on Arvala-7. Set during episode 1x01.
Holding Space: 1000 words. Kuiil POV. An Ugnaught’s lifespan is twice that of a human’s, but even a being who holds the long view can still find space to hope.
as the dust gathers, 400 words. The Armorer reflects on Nevarro.
the hollow man: 580 words, Din & the Armorer set during The Sin.
what is true: ~600 words. Din knew the truth once, until it was forgotten.
In It Together: 1152 words. Din and the Child get patched up after their escape from Nevarro.
focus: ~400 words. Din finds a safe haven.
Birdsong: 700 words. The Child sneaks out on Sorgan.
To Stay a Little While: 2800 words. Cara Dune doesn’t know why she lingers on Sorgan.
Somewhere Safe: 1100 words. Din and the Child leave Sorgan. More than a little sad.
A Goodnight Song: 671 words. After a hasty departure from Sorgan, Grogu is inconsolable.
Stories: 500 words. Peli Motto rocks the Child to sleep.
Nightmares: 600 words. Din confronts a world in which he was too late to help the child.
the naming of things: 1795 words. Din names the injuries he received in The Prisoner, and reflects upon the hunter becoming the hunted.
The Confession: 1000 words. Kuiil and Din discuss the Child on the way to Nevarro. Kuiil thinks the Mandalorian has changed.
Primary Directives: 2020 words. IG-11 discovers similarities between itself and the Mandalorian. Mainly based on the episodes The Mandalorian, The Reckoning and the Redemption. Whump.
A Warrior’s Death: 1700 words. Din tends to his wounds and armor after the events of the Redemption.
For the Darkness Always Passes: 800 words. Din struggles with guilt after The Redemption.
something borrowed, 400 words. Din cherishes the Rising Phoenix and the gift of beskar.
Contact: 800 words. Din is a touch-starved man, but he’s getting better.
jewelry: 300 words. Din marvels at how much the child loves the pendant.
Waves in Moonlight: 1100 words. Din Djarin and the Child share a meal together under moonlight.
Noctis: 508 words. Din and the Child both struggle with dark dreams.
The Lullaby: 1900 words. Din and the Child are exhausted and try to get some sleep.
The Dove-Gray Sky: 950 words. The Child sees snow with Din for the first time.
The Scent of Whiteleaf: 4800 words. Grogu and his protector visit a calm and peaceful world, searching for those who could help them find a Jedi. They find something else instead. Grogu POV. Grogu & Din, some of Din's backstory, and several gentle family bonding moments.
The Outpost: 2000 words. Din and the kid visit Batuu, hoping to find a Jedi.
Vaii Mhi’Yaim (Where We Are Home): 6800 words. Whump. Din nearly dies bringing in a bounty to Nevarro; it’s up to Cara, Greef and Grogu to save him.
going under: 800 words. Din Djarin nearly drowns. Whump.
Fulminating: 5000 words. Din suffers complications after nearly drowning on Trask. He and the Child recover together. Maybe it’s enough. Even more whump, hurt/comfort.
The Clan Now Safe: 1500 words. Din struggles with feelings of isolation from his kind.
if things were different: 800 words. Greef Karga and Din Djarin discuss the Child before they make plans for the Siege.
The Connection: 195 words. Ahsoka learns what Grogu finds most important.
The Weight: 450 words. The Armorer grieves the past, and prepares for the future.
the hand outstretched: 1400 words. The quiet finds its way in after the Tragedy.
Orphans: Din and Boba Fett discuss their next move in the search for the child. Fett asks a question, or two.
Amputechture: 1300 words. Din returns for his armor after attacking the Imperial base, injured. Boba Fett lends perspective.
Translation: 2400 words. Din Djarin was a man of few words but many languages. Some thought the Child spoke no language at all. They learn to understand each other.
The Sacrifice: 600 words. Din never understood the depth of what he had been asked to do until it was too late.
Finding the Way: 2400 words. Din struggles after the Rescue, but Cara Dune is a good friend.
The Good News: 800 words. Din shares the good news with an old friend. Angst.
Strikethrough: 1250 words. Din struggles with a wound that will not heal. Angst.
five denials and a truth: 3800 words. Five times Din Djarin denied being a father, and once he didn’t. Angst.
the wheeling stars, amidst the dark: 5370 words. Peli Motto is glad to see her favorite customer return, but is worried when she realizes he’s come alone. Grief, angst, friendship.
talisman, 470 words. Cara reaches out to a friend when she realizes he needs to talk.
The Nor'Wester, 1200 words. Din Djarin seeks a new purpose after the events of The Rescue, but memories lurk around every bend. Angst.
How Strange to Stay, 1000 words. Fennec Shand wonders why she cannot seem to leave Tatooine.
going up?, ~400 words. A Mandalorian gets on an elevator. BoBF 1x05.
Onto the Next, ~400 words. Din struggles during Return of the Mandalorian.
in bacta, dreaming, 1200 words. Din Djarin dreams in bacta.
The Invitation: 2600 words. Din travels in dreams that feel realer than real after the Rescue. A promise is kept.
cobbles, 200 words. Din and Grogu share a quiet moment.
Reverberations, linked to on AO3, 16,500 words. Five times Din and Grogu encounter the Dark Side, and one time they encounter something altogether different.
~1500 words, spoilers. Din is injured and kidnapped, but has only one priority. So does the bounty hunter bringing him in. Canon whump, Din and Embo POV, father-son feels, and musings on how far Din Djarin’s really come from the man we met in 1x01.
—
Din’s on home turf.
It’s the thought that drives him as he dashes through the door into the driving rain. This is his and Grogu’s home, and he knows every rock, every crevice, every inch. He’s memorized how many footsteps to the blurrgs’ pen, the exact dimensions of their cabin, every angle of perimeter defense. He has the advantage, and he knows it as his heart thrums beneath his armor.
Must be a hell of a bounty for someone to take him on here on familiar ground. That, or the hunter’s desperate or stupid. Judging by how the hunter had nearly got the drop on them, Din figures it’s likely the former. He’s almost flattered.
He’s got no idea of who the hunter is, but he has a damn good inkling as to who sent him. A little earlier than he expected, but maybe it’s better to get it over and done with. He’s resigned more than anything as his boots tear through the sodden soil in long leaps. He knows Grogu and the Anzellans should be safe in the hidden crevices behind the house, especially if he can just catch up to the hunter who’s dared invade their —
Pain.
Blinding, sizzling, arcing pain. He drops before he knows what’s happened, blue-white electricity sparking through his helmet, his armor, his muscles.
What’s happening — But the thought scatters through his brain, lost as his head slams against the ground. He’s paralyzed, can’t move — can’t stop moving, muscles firing randomly in waves of tremors — he’s down, he’s down, he’s down —
A shadow. A bright light. Din fights to keep his eyes open, to process what he’s seeing while his brain buzzes and blares. The hat. A wolf? A hound? Tall, tall. His jaw chatters and he tastes blood from his tongue and cheek, struggles to swallow it past the way his throat spasms. The rain begins to seep under his helmet, moisture on his cheeks and chin.
Huttese. Garbled, can’t make sense of it, can’t put it together when he’s wheezing for breath. The light shifts and the figure and the hound move.
A hand lifts his leg. Drags him like a dead thing through the welling mud.
One thought through the firefight in his brain, again again again, before the darkness takes him. The only thing that matters.
Grogu.
—
Garbled images flare in his head, pulsing white and blue around the edges. A light that blinds and blurs and shines whether his eyes are closed or open.
Grogu’s face looking up at him from under the floorboards, determined, knowing what to do. Din tries to call out to him. Tries to tell him to run, to go, to get himself out of there. All that comes out is a rattled breath.
Grogu laughing in the surf, leaping over Rotta’s bulk as the waves gently lap against the sand. They splash and play and frisk like foundlings chasing each other through the Nevarro underground, and Din remembers running through the sands long ago, the water splashing to his knees as red-robed figures smiled and waved. He has to give the kid more time like this, he deserves it — he can’t let him be taken again —
Grogu caged. Cuffed. Surrounded by stormtroopers, threatened by Gideon. Din tries to move, tries to fight, tries to reach him, but his hands spasm and fall numb and twisted to his lap.
More moments flash by, frantic, confusing. Where the hell is he? When the hell is he?
The kid sleeping in his little bed with a stuffed green tooka doll —
The kid laughing through a mouthful of cookies —
The kid jumping on the cot in the new ship —
The kid holding the mythosaur pendant —
The kid asleep in his arms —
So small a thing. It’s everything.
—
The lights shrink to singularities instead of blurry starfields as he slowly comes back to himself. There’s a ringing in his ears and a muzzy echo in his head, and everything’s too bright even through the filter of his helmet. Little slips of memory scatter, thoughts of Grogu, half-remembered.
He blinks, jerks, starts. Plays through the fragments he can recall clearly and puts things together. Pouring rain on Nevarro. A chase in the mud. Got caught up in a stun-net, outplayed on his home turf.
The ship hums around him, its noises unfamiliar. Probably something custom and heavily modded. Must have cost a fair amount on the black market. Whoever it is who’s gotten him is clearly someone who knows what they’re doing.
Din swears under his breath. What else does he know? Bars are inches in front of him, stretching to the ceiling, wide enough for a hand but not an arm. He tries to shift his limbs and barely manages the movement, muscles still weak from the stun-net. He concentrates, focuses as much as he’s able, runs a mental inventory of what he can feel against his waist, legs, forearms. His beskar sits too light. He’s missing weapons.
Din reaches to grab the bars and pull himself to his feet, but all his numb and prickling hands do is weakly rise up into view, held together by the bindings on his wrists.
The full scope of the situation hits him, knocks him back into the wall like a blow. He’s being hauled to the Hutts to be made an example of, bound and caged. They’ll want to kill him, but they’ll want to do it slow. He could deal with that, if he has to.
But can Grogu?
He’s miscalculated how angry the Hutts would be. Badly. And if it costs him his son — or his son his father — His teeth grind in frustration, anger, guilt.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.
They’re taking a break, dank farrik. They should be on Nevarro and waking up for breakfast right about now. Grogu should be making a fuss about the bath he’d been evading for the past few days. Din should be replenishing his supplies and taking the kid into town. They should be working on the Crest with the Anzellans. He hopes they made it out —
Oh, shit. He focuses on the center of the room. There’s an Anzellan right now. Trapped in the mouth of the hunter’s hound, covered in its saliva.
He sits up, shaking his head, and takes a breath. This is something he can work with. He remembers Grogu’s cookies — sorry, kid, I’ll get you a crate of them next time — there’s going to be a next time, there has to be — and tosses one for the hound as the Anzellan scrambles away. He can get intel from the Anzellan on Grogu, and they’ll figure out some kind of plan.
He’s got to get back to Grogu. He’s all that matters, not Din’s own fate, not the Hutts’ fury. Maybe this will work.
Maybe. The Anzellan surges forward, but he can’t fit through the bars — the hound’s after him —
Maybe not.
—
Embo sighs, a rumble under his breath. There’s a commotion down below he needs to investigate.
All seems well as he steps out of his pilot’s seat and surveys the hold. The Mandalorian is still slumped on the floor in his cell, but somehow he’s managed to rile up Keibu, who growls and snaps at the prisoner. It is an irritation Embo does not need. Embo calls Keibu to heel and she leaves her prey reluctantly. He turns to his quarry and regards him without expression.
The Mandalorian hasn’t managed to get himself to his feet yet. It’s to be expected given how long the stun-web’s shock lasts. But the man is quietly desperate beneath the stillness. Embo can see need in every line of him, the direct and careful gaze, the way his hands curl slightly, coiled and ready for a fight.
The Mandalorian is a decent actor though. He tries talking to Embo first, voice rasping in clipped Basic, a calculatedly casual effort at professional commiseration.
Embo prefers silence to conversation. Especially meaningless conversation intended to provoke pity or a sense of false rapport. That kind of talk loses credits, and more importantly, reputation. Embo does the Mandalorian the similarly casual professional courtesy of activating the cell’s built-in stun-web.
The stun-web crackles. The Mandalorian crumples again, his chest heaving. The visor stares at an odd angle.
Embo nods to himself and turns off the signal. He is unsure of the Mandalorian’s species, but suspects human by the general appearance, build, fighting style. He’s received more than enough voltage to sufficiently knock him out. They should have no more disruptions the rest of the way to Nal Hutta.
The Mandalorian’s legs and hands twitch erratically, which is of no concern to Embo. Hutts do not need their prey in mint condition. He shrugs and allows himself to run a hand over Keibu’s ears, and she nudges against his palm, giving him a bored whine. He’ll find her a target to play with soon. But first, he has to deliver a plaything to someone else.
Pity he hadn’t been able to also bring in the Mandalorian’s little green offspring. The Hutts had promised him a hefty bonus for the kid, though they’d made it clear the Mandalorian was the real prize. He climbs back into the pilot’s seat, considering if another trip to Nevarro might be worth it after he collects his payment.
Nal Hutta looms as they drop out of hyperspace. He takes the ship in, his gaze sliding over vast green swamps and bulbous trees, and the Hutts’ droid ships rise up to welcome him. He isn’t looking forward to the scents of the fens and the earthen palace tunnels. Not his favorite world or favorite clients, but he cannot deny the credits waiting for him below. And really, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?
i really love how much emphasis the mandalorian and grogu placed upon how kind din djarin is.
is he an incredible fighter? yes... it was cool to see him kicking ass on the big screen.
but more than that, i really appreciated his interactions with the anzellans how empathetic he was to rotta and of course how patient and loving he was with grogu. i loved how it was highlighted that din is actually kind of averse to violence, and mostly views it as a last resort that should only be turned to when talking doesn't work. that is one of the things i adore most about his character.
he's a walking beskar-played contradiction. he appears like a terrifying mandalorian warrior to the rest of the galaxy, but underneath that steel is a heart of gold. that part of him means so much to me, and i'm so glad it was present as he took the leap to the big screen!
SHUT UP SHUT UP I CRIED 😭 Everyone go drop everything and read this! It’s sweet and soft and stomps on your heart in such a lovely way! Kuiil my friend 😭
1397 words. After their mission on Shakari, Din and Grogu return home. Din contemplates taking a step back. Father-son musings. Spoilers for The Mandalorian and Grogu.
—
A raindrop slid down across his visor, right on schedule. Nevarro’s monsoon season wasn’t subtle, and the clouds rolling in as they had landed had heralded a mighty storm. Better get Grogu and the Anzellans inside.
Din grabbed his tools and left the work he was doing on the hull, then strode into the cargo hold. The new Crest didn’t feel fully like home yet, but it was getting there. His mouth quirked into a smile beneath his helmet. It did feel good to be back.
“Mando!” the lead Anzellan crowed, waving one small hand. Greef had given Din their names once, but he could never remember them. “We fix ship. Good bones. Good bones! Make fast.”
Grogu clapped, jumping down the ladder from the cockpit. His smock and his hands were covered in grease stains, but he was holding a spanner the right way and looked like he had made himself useful instead of turning himself into a menace. Good. His son wasn’t much for impulse control, but he’d been getting better - slightly - over the past year or so.
Din turned to the Anzellan, who had been joined by his crew. ”Well, we can ‘make fast’ tomorrow. Storm’s coming on, and you’re welcome to stay here for the night. It’s a long way back to town and I didn’t see a roof on your speeder,” Din offered.
The Anzellans briefly conferred amongst themselves. Grogu watched them eagerly, offering a helpful babble.
“What do you think, kid? You don’t mind sharing dinner?”
Grogu hesitated for a moment — clearly thinking of having to split his after-dinner cookies — then shook his head politely. The Anzellans chattered along with a murmur of “Stay with Mando,” “Baby good job,” and “Thanks thanks.”
By the time they’d set their tools aside the rain was coming down harder, splashing and churning the lava dust to a sticky mud that squelched beneath Din’s boots. The Anzellans scurried across the slippery yard while Grogu leapt into Din’s arms. Rain pelted them both and Grogu laughed, tilting his head up and opening his mouth as water beaded on his face.
“Ready for dinner?” He knew the answer before Grogu’s enthusiastic nod.
—
”You’re making friends,” Din said as he and Grogu prepared dinner. Grogu sorted the tableware, carefully setting out some of his smallest dishes, which made for large platters to the Anzellans. Din pulled out meat from the freezer, remnants of their last trip into town a week or so ago. Good thing he hadn’t left it for fresh, given how long their recent missions had taken. He tossed the meat on the glowing grill and Grogu smacked his lips at the sizzle.
Grogu pointed to the Anzellans, who were busy cleaning up from the mud. He gave Din a questioning look.
“Yeah, looks like they’re your buddies now. The droidsmiths, Rotta… good job, kid.” He reached down, patting Grogu on the back. Grogu babbled, saying something that almost sounded like “friend” if Din thought hard enough on it, and then returned to carefully setting up cups beside the plates for the Anzellans. They were using their entire stock of meager dishware. Not like they had a lot of visitors over for dinner, between their distance outside of town and the missions they’d been on lately. Maybe they’d take the blurrg in tomorrow once the weather cleared, stock up on more provisions, stop by Greef’s office.
Din winced as he pulled the meat off the grill and worked on rehydrating some grains from their little pantry. He was stiffening up. Bruises and aches from the recent fights were making themselves apparent, and he rethought his plans. Maybe that blurrg ride could wait a few more days. They were well-tamed, but the path back to town was still a bumpy one.
He dumped a good measure of salt and spices into the moistened grains, giving them a good stir. He snorted to himself. Salt on the ration. He didn’t keep a huge variety of seasonings around, but what he had would apparently have been worth a damn lot on Shakari. Now that was a job that had gotten messy.
Din knew his own skill, could weigh and measure it objectively. He’d thrown everything he had into the last mission. Muscle, speed, weaponry, the use of his armor, the ability to think on the fly. And there was a good chance it still wouldn’t have been enough. He’d been lucky Rotta hadn’t crushed him beneath his vast bulk; lucky that Rotta had taken out the security system; lucky it had gone down the way it did capturing Coin despite not having the Crest ready to go.
He was getting older, and he knew it. He took a long breath, let it hiss out between his teeth.
Grogu still needed him.
He saw the kid in a tiny cage again, Coin’s little plaything. Grogu had his powers and the training Din had given him, but it was clear he wasn’t able to figure out how to break out of the cage, or had been left too weak from the gas to attempt it. It was too much like what the Imps had done to him, what Gideon had done to him, and Din hadn’t been able to stop it. His chest ached with it, even though the kid was safe and sound beside him now.
He finished with the grains and worked on slicing the meat. Grogu lifted the first juicy slice with his powers and directed it into his open mouth, and instead of correcting him to wait for their guests, Din let him have it. Kid had earned it.
”Don’t worry, Grogu,” he said, half under his breath. “We’re taking a break for a while.” Grogu looked up at him and licked his lips, clearly pleased with how the meat had come out.
A break would do them good. Time to rest and recover, to double down on Grogu’s training, to get the Crest just how he wanted it. Time to look at his own weak points and do better. For his son.
Din set the ready food down on the table. He knew Grogu was perfectly capable of jumping to his own seat. But he couldn’t help from scooping the kid up into his arms to bring him to the table, holding him a little closer and a little longer than he needed, and Grogu, for his part, didn’t squirm away.
—
Din had offered the Anzellans his own bed — he could sleep anywhere — but they deferred, choosing the lumpy old pillow on the floor that Grogu kept rescuing every time Din tried to throw it out. Grogu, to Din’s bafflement, often preferred it over the small raised child’s bed Din had procured for him. The kid snuggled right up to the droidsmiths and managed to keep his hands to himself. The pile of them had fallen asleep together. It was an odd sight, but charming in its way.
The rain drummed on the roof in the quiet, a steady fierce rhythm that should have been comforting in its familiarity. Din considered stretching out and falling asleep, but a part of him still felt restless. Maybe it was knowing there was work undone on the Razor Crest. If they needed to get off planet in a hurry… if the Hutts decided to come after them…
Better not take the chance.
He finished clearing up after dinner and headed to the door. He paused at the threshold as the door slid open, the rain sluicing past him, the puddles growing larger by the moment. He glanced back at Grogu again.
Grogu’s chest rose and fell peacefully, his face calm and content, still a little sticky from dinner. He’d need a good bath in the morning between the engine grease and the meal. Something they’d been slacking on these past few missions. Not that either of them minded — Grogu could be a terror about baths, putting them both to the test.
Din smiled at the thought. That was his kid all right, stubborn through and through. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He sighed, the sound swallowed by the cacophony of the drumming rain. He stepped out into the dark and mud and wet, and the door slid closed behind him.
A little more work and they could take that break, just the two of them.
1397 words. After their mission on Shakari, Din and Grogu return home. Din contemplates taking a step back. Father-son musings. Spoilers for The Mandalorian and Grogu.
—
A raindrop slid down across his visor, right on schedule. Nevarro’s monsoon season wasn’t subtle, and the clouds rolling in as they had landed had heralded a mighty storm. Better get Grogu and the Anzellans inside.
Din grabbed his tools and left the work he was doing on the hull, then strode into the cargo hold. The new Crest didn’t feel fully like home yet, but it was getting there. His mouth quirked into a smile beneath his helmet. It did feel good to be back.
“Mando!” the lead Anzellan crowed, waving one small hand. Greef had given Din their names once, but he could never remember them. “We fix ship. Good bones. Good bones! Make fast.”
Grogu clapped, jumping down the ladder from the cockpit. His smock and his hands were covered in grease stains, but he was holding a spanner the right way and looked like he had made himself useful instead of turning himself into a menace. Good. His son wasn’t much for impulse control, but he’d been getting better - slightly - over the past year or so.
Din turned to the Anzellan, who had been joined by his crew. ”Well, we can ‘make fast’ tomorrow. Storm’s coming on, and you’re welcome to stay here for the night. It’s a long way back to town and I didn’t see a roof on your speeder,” Din offered.
The Anzellans briefly conferred amongst themselves. Grogu watched them eagerly, offering a helpful babble.
“What do you think, kid? You don’t mind sharing dinner?”
Grogu hesitated for a moment — clearly thinking of having to split his after-dinner cookies — then shook his head politely. The Anzellans chattered along with a murmur of “Stay with Mando,” “Baby good job,” and “Thanks thanks.”
By the time they’d set their tools aside the rain was coming down harder, splashing and churning the lava dust to a sticky mud that squelched beneath Din’s boots. The Anzellans scurried across the slippery yard while Grogu leapt into Din’s arms. Rain pelted them both and Grogu laughed, tilting his head up and opening his mouth as water beaded on his face.
“Ready for dinner?” He knew the answer before Grogu’s enthusiastic nod.
—
”You’re making friends,” Din said as he and Grogu prepared dinner. Grogu sorted the tableware, carefully setting out some of his smallest dishes, which made for large platters to the Anzellans. Din pulled out meat from the freezer, remnants of their last trip into town a week or so ago. Good thing he hadn’t left it for fresh, given how long their recent missions had taken. He tossed the meat on the glowing grill and Grogu smacked his lips at the sizzle.
Grogu pointed to the Anzellans, who were busy cleaning up from the mud. He gave Din a questioning look.
“Yeah, looks like they’re your buddies now. The droidsmiths, Rotta… good job, kid.” He reached down, patting Grogu on the back. Grogu babbled, saying something that almost sounded like “friend” if Din thought hard enough on it, and then returned to carefully setting up cups beside the plates for the Anzellans. They were using their entire stock of meager dishware. Not like they had a lot of visitors over for dinner, between their distance outside of town and the missions they’d been on lately. Maybe they’d take the blurrg in tomorrow once the weather cleared, stock up on more provisions, stop by Greef’s office.
Din winced as he pulled the meat off the grill and worked on rehydrating some grains from their little pantry. He was stiffening up. Bruises and aches from the recent fights were making themselves apparent, and he rethought his plans. Maybe that blurrg ride could wait a few more days. They were well-tamed, but the path back to town was still a bumpy one.
He dumped a good measure of salt and spices into the moistened grains, giving them a good stir. He snorted to himself. Salt on the ration. He didn’t keep a huge variety of seasonings around, but what he had would apparently have been worth a damn lot on Shakari. Now that was a job that had gotten messy.
Din knew his own skill, could weigh and measure it objectively. He’d thrown everything he had into the last mission. Muscle, speed, weaponry, the use of his armor, the ability to think on the fly. And there was a good chance it still wouldn’t have been enough. He’d been lucky Rotta hadn’t crushed him beneath his vast bulk; lucky that Rotta had taken out the security system; lucky it had gone down the way it did capturing Coin despite not having the Crest ready to go.
He was getting older, and he knew it. He took a long breath, let it hiss out between his teeth.
Grogu still needed him.
He saw the kid in a tiny cage again, Coin’s little plaything. Grogu had his powers and the training Din had given him, but it was clear he wasn’t able to figure out how to break out of the cage, or had been left too weak from the gas to attempt it. It was too much like what the Imps had done to him, what Gideon had done to him, and Din hadn’t been able to stop it. His chest ached with it, even though the kid was safe and sound beside him now.
He finished with the grains and worked on slicing the meat. Grogu lifted the first juicy slice with his powers and directed it into his open mouth, and instead of correcting him to wait for their guests, Din let him have it. Kid had earned it.
”Don’t worry, Grogu,” he said, half under his breath. “We’re taking a break for a while.” Grogu looked up at him and licked his lips, clearly pleased with how the meat had come out.
A break would do them good. Time to rest and recover, to double down on Grogu’s training, to get the Crest just how he wanted it. Time to look at his own weak points and do better. For his son.
Din set the ready food down on the table. He knew Grogu was perfectly capable of jumping to his own seat. But he couldn’t help from scooping the kid up into his arms to bring him to the table, holding him a little closer and a little longer than he needed, and Grogu, for his part, didn’t squirm away.
—
Din had offered the Anzellans his own bed — he could sleep anywhere — but they deferred, choosing the lumpy old pillow on the floor that Grogu kept rescuing every time Din tried to throw it out. Grogu, to Din’s bafflement, often preferred it over the small raised child’s bed Din had procured for him. The kid snuggled right up to the droidsmiths and managed to keep his hands to himself. The pile of them had fallen asleep together. It was an odd sight, but charming in its way.
The rain drummed on the roof in the quiet, a steady fierce rhythm that should have been comforting in its familiarity. Din considered stretching out and falling asleep, but a part of him still felt restless. Maybe it was knowing there was work undone on the Razor Crest. If they needed to get off planet in a hurry… if the Hutts decided to come after them…
Better not take the chance.
He finished clearing up after dinner and headed to the door. He paused at the threshold as the door slid open, the rain sluicing past him, the puddles growing larger by the moment. He glanced back at Grogu again.
Grogu’s chest rose and fell peacefully, his face calm and content, still a little sticky from dinner. He’d need a good bath in the morning between the engine grease and the meal. Something they’d been slacking on these past few missions. Not that either of them minded — Grogu could be a terror about baths, putting them both to the test.
Din smiled at the thought. That was his kid all right, stubborn through and through. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He sighed, the sound swallowed by the cacophony of the drumming rain. He stepped out into the dark and mud and wet, and the door slid closed behind him.
A little more work and they could take that break, just the two of them.
Just got out of seeing the Mandalorian and Grogu for the fourth time and honestly I would happily stroll back into the theater for round 5 😂
As a movie? I suppose it’s a B. Solid, very fun and funny, heartwarming, but nothing earth-shattering. As a fan experience, to me it’s an A and the only thing I wanted more of was Din and Grogu hugging 😂 It’s perfect because it’s imperfect, because I see the holes where the light gets in and I can play in my sandbox with art and fic. It’s a joyful space I want to spend time in and add to and make my own. Dammit I love Star Wars and I love the Clan of Two 💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚
Yesterday I spent 9 hours painting pit droid toys from Disneyland to look like the Bad Batch (will post when I have better pictures) while listening to the Mando and Grogu soundtrack on repeat and today I’m going to see the movie for the 4th time in my Bo-Katan outfit and then go to Disneyland to hang out on Batuu all day. I also practiced my fire spinning but am working on incorporating Rotta barrel rolls into my routine like a maniac. Damn I love being a nerd
Even amongst the terrifying ordeal of watching Din slip into a coma, Grogu still honoured and respected his father's way of life. Even as Din hovered perilously close to death, even when Din would have had no idea whether Grogu had removed his helmet or not, the child respected his father's creed.
In those moments, I'm sure that Grogu really wanted to use the force to remove Din's helmet so that he could check whether he was recovering. But no... the respect he showed for Din, by giving him water/feeding him by sticking his little claw beneath his helmet... it's so moving and such a testament to the depth of their bond.
And for such a tiny child to do all of that, to show such resourcefulness and bravery while keeping his dying dad's dignity in tact... my heart.. . it hurTS... also is someone chopping onions in here?????
I’m sick with how precious that entire section was… Grogu did such a good job taking care of him. And yes to all of this! Even if you headcanon Din may take off the helmet at home sometimes with Grogu in private (I do love to think this is okay as Grogu is officially his clan and child) Grogu still understands that it’s always Din’s choice and the helmet must never be removed by another. Because Din would have been so disoriented and afraid to wake up and realize it was gone, because Grogu knew this was so important to his dad. Grogu knew they remained in danger the entire time… he had to keep Din as protected and safe as possible, armor fully intact.
Rich swamp smells, loam and river-weed, moist tree bark, springy moss and shading fern. Sounds of the deep fens, droids on patrol, frogs chorusing, the swell of countless insects droning. The feel of earth beneath his palms, his toes squelching in the puddles.
The way his father’s chest rose up and down, up and down, fast and shallow. The rattle of his breathing.
What if it had come out different?
What if he never found the kind man across the river? What if he never got the medicine?
He pulled at his father’s shoulder, tapped his armor frantically, listened for his heartbeat under beskar.
All was silent — all was silent — and he was alone —
*
Grogu woke up in the dark on Nevarro. He would know the closeness of their little home no matter what, the little hum of their security defenses in the background, the smells of caf and cookies, the way the air hung just so within four prefab walls. It was secure now. He could feel it in the Force.
But the dream was still so scary and so fresh. He froze, then pulled his blanket over his head. He stayed like that a minute before peeping his head out, ears brushing against the soft fabric. He called out, shyly, just once.
No answer.
He told himself he would be okay if his father slept through without realizing. They had been through so much these past days. They both needed rest. Grogu sighed and turned within his blanket, shivering a little, determined to fall back asleep on his own.
A hand, warm and steady on his back in the dark. “Hey, kid. You okay?”
Grogu hesitated.
He’d been okay after the assault on the Imperial warlord in the snow. Chilly, excited, but fine.
He’d been okay after they locked him in a cage. His legs were tired and he was embarrassed and worried about his dad, but they’d both been all right.
He was okay after he got his dad home safe again. They’d both fought so much, so hard, and they had won!
He was getting stronger. Better at helping his dad. Better at saving his dad. He knew that he was brave and that he’d done good.
“Grogu?” his father asked quietly, his voice rough. He clicked on Grogu’s glow-lamp. In the dim light, Grogu could see he had taken off his helmet, something he did only very rarely, when it was just the two of them in their clan and the world was quiet. His father’s face was lined and tired and kind. “You all right?”
Grogu shook his head no, and he held out his arms.
“Hey, hey. I got you, kiddo.” His father held him close, his embrace gentle as anything. They stayed like that until the sun crept around the edges of the windows, until the blurrg crowed with the morning. And Grogu knew that they were safe once more.
Din and Grogu always make time for a stop in the marketplace on their trips to Batuu. Grogu loves how many fascinating things there are to look at! Sketched on location.
