justwrite100words

[justwrite100words]

You're beautiful. Kindhearted. Sympathetic. Inquisitive. Quick witted. Courageous. Confident. Sassy. You're sweatpants and a t-shirt today. You're sweatpants and a long dress tomorrow. Today you're unemotive. Tomorrow too. Happy. Sad. Worried. The wires get crossed from your heart to your face. You're comfortable now with the words that say what your expressions won't or can't. Thank you for sharing those words with me. Thank you for telling me I'm wrong. Thank you for asking so many questions. I love your little kisses, blown rather than planted. I love your run and jumps, hugs and tackles mixed together. I love how you make the house shake when you dance for hours on end. I love how your language is drawn, written, spoken, and crafted. You're a body and soul bursting with stories. You're my 13. Happy birthday, baby.

[justwrite100words]

Din rose while Grogu was still sleeping, as light was peeking out over the mountains. In the cool of the morning, he entered the pen and approached each blurrg in turn as they milled about. A gentle petting on the forehead went a long way towards reminding them they were safe and in the company of a friend and caretaker. In return, they leaned into his touch and blinked lazily. Din remembered with fondness the patience for the beasts demonstrated by Kuiil and tried his best to emulate it. After feeding and watering them both, he chose the younger of the two and began the process of saddling the mount. He noticed the buckle on the cinch rode secure in a different set of holes. She'd finally put on a little more weight. The leather had begun to fray on one of the reins. He made a mental note to reinspect it when they returned. The saddle bag slid down over the cantle and rested against the blurrg's expansive side.

"Boo!" Grogu waved to him from the front porch.

"You ready to go, kiddo? Did you have some breakfast?"

He nodded vigorously.

Din left the pen to momentarily join him. "Did you leave me any?" he teased affectionately.

"Ee!"

He crouched down to look Grogu over, running a thumb gently across an ear before folding down his collar. He could see the edge of the beskar chain mail but no other pieces of his armor. "Go finish getting dressed. You never know what can happen between here and town. It's important to always be prepared."

He pivoted and ran back into the house without another word to do as his father instructed. By the time Din had led the blurrg out of the pen and hooked up the hover cart, Grogu had reemerged with his rondel and wrist launcher firmly in place.

"You want to visit IG before we pick up supplies?"

A happy squeal was the only answer he needed.

[justwrite100words]

It was an unpleasant surprise to come home to. "Did you leave the grating open?"

Grogu nodded without hesitation.

Din sighed and crouched down to be closer to his son. "The grating is there so that in case of an emergency or an attack, you have a way of getting out safely, unobserved. It's not there to let your friends into the house," he instructed, pointing to the frog lounging at Grogu's feet.

"Hmm." It was a sad and disappointed sound.

"You didn't know. From now on, it stays closed. Okay? We don't want pests getting into our supplies."

He nodded again.

"For as long as we've been gone, I'm sure there are more."

Grogu neither confirmed nor denied. Maybe he could keep just one in the house.

"This is how it's going to work. We find them. We relocate them back out to the pond. Along with any other animals who've made their way in. Deal?"

"Eek!"

After an exhaustive search that lasted the rest of the afternoon, the grand total included nine frogs, a handful of giant spiders, three lava field rats, and one footlong nana slug. Din carried it out between his ungloved thumb and index finger, the brown wiggly mass protesting the sudden relocation. Grabby hands reached for it as he neared the front door. With one exuberant slurp, it went down the hatch.

"That was -" Din paused, letting his stomach settle. "Never mind. Good job, kiddo."

[justwrite100words]

A thinly insulated steel wire the length of his forearm was a cheap price to pay for an improvised distraction. Bending it in half had created the general shape. Curving the bent over end into a circle using Grogu's favorite ball as a placeholder, he'd twisted the two wire arms together into a cohesive unit. The two ends intertwined into a single handle small enough for his son to easily hold. Then Din had used a welding torch to melt the ends. He'd thought about giving it to him immediately. Instead, he'd hung onto it, knowing the right time would present itself. He'd paired it with an empty flare cartridge and put them away in storage.

Ensuring his bounty was safely secured in carbonite, he limped back to the open cargo ramp and found Grogu at the bottom. His ears tracked bird songs and the chirping of bugs. He hadn't run off to chase any of them, obediently standing watch as his father marched their prey into storage. As Din approached the ramp, Grogu glanced back at him over his shoulder, seeking both approval and questioning the state of affairs. Was it time to stand down?

"Meh?"

"You did good, buddy."

Grogu cooed, turned, and raced up the ramp to meet him. He was about to jump into his father's arms when he spied something in his hand. Din gently lowered himself to the deck using his free hand to support himself and stretched his legs out in front of him. He bit down on the groan.

"Eh?" There was unmistakable concern in his tone.

Din chose to deliberately misinterpret. "My father made something like this for me when I was a little boy," he explained, offering Grogu the wand.

He accepted, turning it every which way and looking it over. He brought the hole to his eye, like he'd been taught to do with a monocular. When it didn't change the depth of his vision, he pulled it away and frowned at it. He knocked it with his other hand, like he'd seen his buir do many times before. If he hit it or kicked it, it might work again.

"Here," Din instructed, holding the flare casing. "Dip that end in the liquid. Then you blow on it."

The iridescent film shimmered and wobbled in the wind. Grogu seemed transfixed for a brief moment then he blew hard, with all his might. It popped spectacularly, dripping onto his sleeve cuff. His brow furrowed. Usually, buir didn't want him to get wet unless it was playtime or bath time.

"Try again. Don't blow quite so hard this time. Slowly."

The encouragement set him right. Grogu lent all his attention to observing the outcome of his effort. He drew in a big breath, blew out steadily, and watched as the flat surface curved outward. Finally, the sphere took its final form and floated out and away. Grogu jumped excitedly, looked at this father, and pointed to the bubble escaping up into the sky.

"Yeah, I see." With amusement, he leaned in and bumped his forehead against his son's.

[justwrite100words]

Wide, expectant eyes greeted him upon his return.

"Sorry, kid." He raised his empty hands, palms out. No slurpyshakes.

Little shoulders deflated, his chin dropped, and his gaze found his bare feet.

"They weren't open yet."

A hopeful perking up, a lifting of ears. He shuffled a little closer, taking a handful of pantleg. Then he dropped his head back, swung his glance straight up, and pleaded through his expression. Buir never broke his promises.

"If you go get ready, we can go out again together. They should be open by the time we get there."

A happy squeal filled the whole house.

"Go on. Gear up."

He bounded away, disappearing into his room.

[bethagain]

"Gear up."

I am now picturing Grogu carefully donning his armor to head for the slushie store. You never know what might happen on the way!

[justwrite100words]

"You never know what might happen on the way!"

I kid you not. This exact conversation is number three in the writing queue. Thanks for the reblog!

[justwrite100words]

Wide, expectant eyes greeted him upon his return.

"Sorry, kid." He raised his empty hands, palms out. No slurpyshakes.

Little shoulders deflated, his chin dropped, and his gaze found his bare feet.

"They weren't open yet."

A hopeful perking up, a lifting of ears. He shuffled a little closer, taking a handful of pantleg. Then he dropped his head back, swung his glance straight up, and pleaded through his expression. Buir never broke his promises.

"If you go get ready, we can go out again together. They should be open by the time we get there."

A happy squeal filled the whole house.

"Go on. Gear up."

He bounded away, disappearing into his room.

[justwrite100words]

Silence was the telltale sign of mischief. Therefore Din wasn't the least bit concerned when Grogu's bouts of giggling continued from the living room. He was curious however, so he leaned against the doorframe to observe.

Perched on the very top of their only shelving unit, his son stared with wide, gleeful eyes at the top surface of the wall mounted HVAC system. Whatever it was that he was watching so intently, Din couldn't see. Then a sliver of a disk appeared over the edge. A shade of blue he definitely recognized. The vibration caused it to advance steadily until it reached the tipping point. Once over balanced, it flipped forward into a freefall. Grogu giggled as he caught the cookie using the force and floated it back to the quivering top. Where the process began again.

"Playing with your food again?"

"Eee!"

[justwrite100words]

"What brings you by?" Din inquired of the high magistrate, putting his tools down and approaching the edge of the roof. He dropped down, reaching to grip Karga's wrist in greeting.

"I heard you might be in need of some repair materials," he explained, returning the greeting before gesturing to the prefab then to the land speeder. In the rear seats were three sheets of durasteel.

"I am." The explosion had caused a gaping hole and damaged a large portion of the remaining top exterior.

"Will three be enough?"

"Plenty. What do I owe you?"

"Nothing. Consider it a gift! Least I can do for the new Mandalorian Ambassador to Nevarro!"

Din felt his stomach drop uncomfortably. "What did you do?"

Karga slapped him on the back, grinning. "Oh, I'm just the messenger."

[justwrite100words]

He was no stranger to needle and thread but crafting a complete garment from inception to finished product was beyond his realm of expertise. The idea however refused to leave. The remnants of his tattered cape provided the material. He trimmed away the bottom, torn and full of holes, and allocated a third of what remained. A front and a back, stitched all the way around from arm hole to arm hole. Little straps for little shoulders. An opening for his head wide enough to require neither button nor zipper.

Grogu put his hand on the fabric and glanced up at Din, a questioning expression in his eyebrows.

He paused his handiwork, holding the point of the needle down and away. "It's a sleep sack."

"Eh?"

"You wear it. There's room for your feet at the bottom. This way they'll always be warm."

[justwrite100words]

I've now lived in the same place for the past 20 years. It's an odd feeling, watching toddlers become adults. A privilege. A joy. The highlight of my day was running into that little two-year-old in a white tuxedo in the parking lot as he was going one way and I was going another. Only now he's 21. He just arrived home from a one-year certificated program and has a full-time job lined up in a city about six hours away. He gave me a little bit of his time and as he talked, I watched his face. Marveled at how much it's changed. How could someone so precious and small become someone so precious and big? I've told his father on many occasions that although he's not mine, 'he's one of mine'. Like a handful of other toddlers no longer toddlers. He wrapped me up in a solid hug, all in, just like we'd done so many times before. He left me melting with a comment. "All the kids at camp said I give the best hugs," he said, a glint in his eye. "And that's because of you."

[justwrite100words]

A perfect set of circumstances had led him to this moment. The conversation with Dick had drained the remainder of his cell phone (and social) battery. The Porshe was indeed beautifully restored, but the vintage meant no modern plug-ins. The dash was pristine, lacking converters of any kind. His charging cable was in the limo and the power brick was in his hotel room. An interrupted morning had prevented him from scrutinizing the route between the unfamiliar hotel and the three other locations that had hosted the events of the day. Metropolis was a far cry from Gotham. The layout of the city was not ingrained in his bones. He would have to resort to an old-fashioned way of orienting.

The financial district had mostly emptied out, professionals and pedestrians alike gone from the streets. The bass of music blasting behind closed doors, neon signs, and the egress of dance club partiers led Bruce to an establishment brightly labeled "Julietta's". No valet podium babysat the curb but two gentlemen at the door stood casually conversing. Muscles that lifted daily and height no doubt used to intimidate screamed bouncers. It was as good a place to stop as any. He pulled over, leaned across the passenger seat, and wound the window down.

The sight of the car caught the attention of both but held the interest of only one. He warmly slapped his brother on the shoulder and seemed to say his goodbyes. Bruce couldn't heart the exchange over the distance and music combined. The remaining bouncer held firm at the entrance, unconcerned by his buddy's departure.

Blue eyes and a friendly smile crouched down and met his gaze through the window opening. "Sorry. We don't do valet parking, but there's a lot up the street. It's free until five."

"I was hoping for some directions."

[justwrite100words]

The field of battle was the top of a cargo crate. Elbows planted, they were combatants of equal strength and tenacity, fully confident in their own ability to dominate. Bets and differences of opinions had been settled this way. In the moment, by the moment. Just as many times, they'd met here to fight for the pleasure of the victory, for fun, and for the one-upmanship that came with friendship.

Neither had ramped up their attack. It always started this way. Evaluating the opponent. Settling the grip. Grounding the body. Easing into the offensive. A steady blossoming of tension in the arm and shoulder. Finally, the chest. All parts locking into a cohesive unit. Opposite forces meeting with no advancement forward.

Cara grinned.

Din could feel the strain in his neck the harder she pushed. The bacta was doing its job but the burn itself hadn't yet completely healed. The full range of motion still bordered on painful. The injury was at the heart of their clash.

Her gaze flickered over his shoulder towards the open cargo ramp.

Despite being in friendly territory, instinct kicked in. His grip relaxed for a split second as reflex propelled him to turn, face the unexpected, and reach for his blaster.

She slammed his arm over and down, vambrace connecting with their makeshift tabletop. He grimaced. The wince he couldn't keep from traveling. Adding insult to injury, Paz allowed his deep-seated chuckle to erupt without restraint as he went about his business in the hold.

"So," Cara prompted, recapturing his attention. "Still want to leave today?"

He sighed. That patented sigh they'd come to expect from their longsuffering ruler. "Tomorrow might be better."

Conflict resolved. "I'll bring you more bacta."

[justwrite100words]

"Daryc," Din declared. The shade took on a darker hue as he descended the gentle slope. Careful to avoid the shallow streams of steaming water, he stopped as soon as he boots began to sink in the liquidy mud. Proceeding any further meant unnecessary risk. He clung tighter to Grogu who rode in his arms.

With his free hand, he pointed to the outer ring. "Ge'tal."

"Ge!" Grogu repeated excitedly.

"That's right. You already know that one." Although at second glance, it was almost orange rather than red. The first ring was the least defined. It seeped out in all directions, running wherever gravity pulled. On the inside was a thin barrier of yellow. The depth was miniscule compared to the other bands. Beyond it was-

"Vorpan."

Grogu uttered a questioning sound and then used both hands to indicate himself.

"Like you, yes," Din confirmed. "What's at the center?"

Grogu cooed.

"Yeah, it's pretty, isn't it? Kebiin."

Grabby hands shot out.

"No, we can't play in it. Ge'tal will burn you. Kebiin will melt you. Just because it's beautiful doesn't mean it's safe."

[justwrite100words]

The rainforest highway is a driver's dream. On one side is the cliff face and on the other, a drop off into the grey waters of the canal. The road curves, rises and falls. There are no shoulders and the edges have crumbled in places. A patch in a quarter mile stretch screams of wholesale reconstruction. At the mountain pass, the speed is sixty. Crossing over inlet bridges, downshifting to twenty is a must. Moss covered rooves next to a newly constructed post office. It's the middle of nowhere. Old meets new. As a child, I sat sandwiched between my grandparents on the bench seat of their Silverado, the fifth wheel training behind us. Grandpa taught me about the manners of the road. Saying thank you to the long haulers as they glided briefly into slow vehicle turnouts. Today I slotted in behind a big rig and rode in his windbreak. The only thing he was hauling was ass, sweeping down the hills at seventy-five. Forty years on the same highway, traveling north and south. It never gets old.

[justwrite100words]

"We were told we might find him here." Zeb nonchalantly glanced around the palace throne room, half expecting to find the Mandalorian tucked into a dark corner.

"I'm afraid you've just missed him." Boba's body language was decidedly just as relaxed. He lounged in full armor, one hand on his rifle and the other propped up on the armrest. Over his shoulder, Fennec was still, eyeing the New Republic agents with intense scrutiny.

"Do you know if he'll be back?" Rotta's soft-spoken question brought the conversation to a stop. Boba swung his gaze. Fennec merely shifted her eyes.

Boba rose to his full height on the dais, cradling his weapon in crossed arms. He lorded over his uninvited guests. "Why should I answer that?"

Zeb stepped to the side, putting himself between his new partner and Tatooine's daimyo. "We have a mission ahead of us and could really use his expertise. He's not answering his comm or responding to messages."

Boba considered the response for a long moment. Let the tension ride high and hang. Finding the explanation without guile, he offered truth up in return. "He will be back. Perhaps in a few days. The New Republic is not the only house he chooses to serve," he explained. "Unfortunately, you've come at an inopportune time. There is a storm fast approaching. You have two options."

"And what might those be?"

"You may leave and return at your convenience. Or you can move your ship into the hanger and accept my hospitality until the Mandalorian returns. A handful of sensible rules will be imposed upon you to ensure the security of my home. Decide quickly. You have less than half an hour before the winds pick up."

Zeb wordlessly sought out Rotta's input.

"Is Grogu here?"

The force sang. From below the grating, a happy chitter chatter babbled up. The roar of a beast echoed up behind it.

Rotta balled his fists and dragged himself forward, anger flashing in his eyes. "You put him in with a rancor?!"

Fennec leveled her riffle. Zeb drew his pistols. Boba raised his hand, palm out. "Calm yourself," he ordered. "No harm will come to the child under my watch. The two are the closest of friends, I assure you. Fennec-"

She reached down and flip a switch. The throne room trap door fell open. Like an interceptor shot out of a launch tube, Grogu flew out of the pit and landed squarely in Rotta's arms. Headbutting and snuggling ensued. A happy squeal conveyed his delight at being reunited.

Rotta chuckled. "Hey, little buddy. Long time, no see. These guys treating you right?"

Grogu twisted in his arms, throwing a hand back toward Boba and Fennec. Presenting them. Affirming his relationships and love. "Patu!"

"We'll take you up on your offer," Zeb declared.

[justwrite100words]

Boba played the vidrecording four more times, scrutinizing every detail. The size, color, and construction of the room.  The sound and speculative air circulation capacity of the ventilation machine. The shear amount of dirty, brown spice as it floated like sand particles on the edge of a storm.  The angle of the natural light illuminating the enclosed space.  Other ambient noises in the background beyond the low wheezing of Djarin’s breathing.  The sheen of sweat mixed with a fine layer of drugs clinging to his exposed and overheated skin.  The complete lack of armor.  His flight suit also gone.   Suffering on open display.  Bait at the center of a trap.  

The instructions were clear, in a voice unaltered.  A woman’s rough alto.  A simple exchange.  One man for another.  A set of coordinates, a date, a time, and a warning that any trickery would result in Din’s immediate execution.  

“She works for the Pykes.”  Fennec’s keen eye examined the recording from over Boba’s shoulder, her ear as sharp as her aim.  The unspoken was clear.  This wasn’t a hoax or some low-level play for power.  Din was nothing but a convenient lure and his continued existence was tied to his usefulness.  

Boba heard but didn’t respond.  An explosive outburst of violence had released the pressure valve of rage upon the first viewing.  It had swept in after the sickening sense of dread that plummeted to the pit of his stomach.

"How do you want to handle this?"

He stabbed a button. The recording froze but didn't go dark. The image would fuel his determination. He would retrieve his vod. "Gather the mods. And call in Cobb Vanth. He owes me a favor."

[justwrite100words]

Going up in flames is a real possibility. The charging cable and converter radiate heat. The fans work overtime. Sometimes it spontaneously reboots itself. Should I prop it up in one of those metal popcorn cans you get at Christmas, just in case it decides to burn down the house? The bottom is bulged. I figured that was a sure ticket to at least a warranty repair. The official word was "We couldn't find anything wrong with it. Product is behaving as designed and expected." Add insult to injury? They reinstalled the operating system. Do I have a backup? I thought so. Never trust Microsquish with your documents. It's a joke. Just like this behaving as designed laptop piece of shit.