#Jango is a foundling so he counts

[canuckianhawkbi]

Mando season 3 is here and I have polls so:

(Legends poll here)

#the mandalorian #Mandalorian #mandalorian season 3 #mando s3 #the armourer #bo-katan kryze #din djarin #fenn rau #gar saxon #jango fett #paz vizsla #pre vizsla #sabine wren #tragic how few options the polls give you #Jango is a foundling so he counts #Boba doesn’t consider himself Mandalorian so he’s not on the list

[widderwise]

DP x SW

Danny Phantom x Star Wars fic Idea:

Btw, I have never posted on Tumblr before so I have no idea if I am doing this right. I am bad at communicating on the internet apparently. My son's friends think I am nerdy/geeky enough to be the cool mom though so I'll take it.

So, in Danny Phantom he Infinite realms holds all afterlives. However, only so many people form into ghosts after death. Highly traumatic emotional deaths and people exposed to ectoplasm if I understand correctly.

I was thinking about SW Mandalorians and how they think of death and souls. Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la - "Not gone, merely marching far away"—;

When a foundling is adopted it's 'name and soul' and I've seen it referenced as giving that child a soul, sometimes even after they died.

"Comprised of a simple statement of intent, a prospective Mandalorian parent needed only to recite the phrase ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad—"I know your name as my child"—followed by the name of the individual to be adopted." Wookieepedia

The Mandalorians have the Manda:

"The manda was a spiritual[2] and philosophical concept in the Mandalorian religion. Among the living, manda referred to a state of being, wherein a Mandalorian had achieved a philosophical unity of mind, body, and spirit. Additionally, the manda could refer to the collective soul of the Mandalorian people, with Mandalorians passing into the manda upon their death." (Wookieepedia)

I have a headcannon that the Manda would be an ancient spirit like Vortex, Undergrowth, and Nocturne. With the Mandalorians united under the Manda, they are far more likely to form as ghosts and 'go 'marching' in the Infinite realms than a random Joe. This would lead to a large Mandalorian civilization in the realms, most likely made larger by the Mandalorian tendency to adopt. The realms would have plenty of newly formed ghosts from all overt the multiverse, probably a lot without a particular afterlife they're shooting for.

For a fic idea I see a Mandalorian, say Jaster, coming across Danny (maybe he had to flee his dimension due to the GIW) and adopting him on the spot (or at least trying to). He can mentor Danny as a leader (if this is a ghost prince/king thing). Or for more zaniness Dani/Elli. Or both.

THis being a SW cross you can have Dani taking notice of the clones. Jaster probably keeps an eye on Jango if he can. Danny and Dani being halfas could go into the SW verse to help the clones. Maybe leaving Jaster to collect the decommissioned clones by adopting them on his behalf? Not sure of the logistics there. I like the image of him saving the decommed clones and keeping them safe in the realms.

Jango might not count the clones as his kids, but my understanding of Mandalorian culture is that you can't disown your kids (but they can disown you), so they might be born into the Manda anyway. The Manda (as a spirit in this AU) would be very upset I think and maybe ask Danny as King to intervene? Just spitballing now. Maybe send Jaster to haunt Jango until he fixes his ish (as much as possible). Maybe other former Manda'lore as well.

Fun additions:

Jaster/Ghost Writer besties or maybe more?

Lunch Lady feeding the clones

Technus vs droid armies :)

#danny phantom #mandalorian culture #star wars #jaster mereel #dani phantom #jango fett #danny fenton #clone wars

[omaano]

Wait, hold up, I have to hear more about Boba/Din Vampire AU 👀

“Teeth measuring contest” - is what I should have titled that wip XD

I am this close to talking myself out of 100% committing to this idea even though I spent the whole day cleaning up this sketch and turning it into something not horribly messy and out of the realm of proportion and human anatomy. But it's getting better and better, so I guess… I can indulge a little? Maybe? Maybe 6th time is the charm? 😳😳 (Credit where credit is due tho, I changed my mind on half the elements in this drawing because of @shortmage and their fics’ influence, because I’m a very weak person, and their vampire!Boba fic as well as this one is just too good!)

Also, the rarest of things happened and I’d actually typed up some of my messy thoughts from months back when I just started marinating on the idea of Mandalorian vampires, so I suppose I might as well share them under the cut

Mandalorians as vampires - makes sense for the emphasis of the traditionalists to always keep covered up (especially with the helmet and the chest plate because the head and torso are the important and vulnerable-ish parts for a vampire), to live in secrecy and hiding and possibly even underground. Plus, since it is a trait that can be passed on through a vampire bite the Mandalorian idea of adoption and “children are the future” mentality also checks out, since the vampiric bloodline has gotten diluted over time - hence what the New Mandalorians were, who had it easier to assimilate to the norm of the Republic, and what little vampiric traits they retained with time they could live with under their domes and in their environmentally controlled cities on Mandalore.

That would make Din a very traditionalist vampire (plus the continuous wear of his helmet probably built up and encourages quite the oral fixation on top of that), and as a Beroya he’d have to ensure that the whole covert has enough blood to sustain them (bounty hunting with more focus on the “or dead” part of the assignment). Meanwhile Boba would be also a vampire, but quite a bit loser with his feeding habits and morals (and he has more motivation to keep covered up because of the whole clone thing as opposed to the vampire thing). Jango (not just because he was a foundling, but due to the general diluting effect of /time/) was less of a “true” vampire (though vampire enough, his buir was mand’alor after all, that’s gotta count for something), but he had more than enough of it locked away in his genes for the kamionans to have an absolute field day in cherry picking what traits they found useful to keep in the clones (keep some traits for strength and durability, but turn on them the thrall (in a way) and put them on blood supplements to ensure that they remain under control).

Jedi are also vampires, they just went the early mutation route of the genes, and so they don’t subscribe to the “turning someone into a vampire” idea, but rather look for that innate vampire in future Jedi; which allows for the antagonism between Jedi sorcerers and Mandalorians. Jedi are those weirdos who figured out how to live on black pudding and blood orange and anything that has blood in its name and is red, and whatever life force is in the air - and worst of all they don’t even have the decency to just turn up and die on such a ridiculous diet. They are the equivalent of light eater weirdos, except they are also somehow right. That would make Sith those who's gone bonkers and just drain the life force of every unfortunate sucker in their way (that would kinda explain why inviting Maul into mandalorian business could have seemed like a good idea? Since he was closer to traditionalist mandalorian ideals than whatever the new mandalorians were subscribing to). The grey Jedi would probably then be the smart ones who figured out that blood banks exist. They are the smart cookies who don’t have to rein in their hunger through hours of meditation or whatever yet still get the benefits.

#bobadin #wip #sketch #vampire AU #my art #originally I was just going to make Din be the vampire because that's /my thing/ #“Din hiding a massive oral fixation under that helmet” is the headcanon hill I'm willing to die on #I'm incredibly self conscious about this whole thing ^^; #I do get some thoughts on occasion and sometimes I even type them out #with lots of questionmarks I deleted from here XD #no deep thoughts I'm just entertaining myself #I'm really trying with the teeth okay #now that I'm posting about it I think this IS going to be my bingo fill for this square #hopefully I can clean it up effectively #firstofficerwiggles #thank you for asking!! <3

[seven-oomen]

B

Hi, Ben!  I hope your day is going well!  Had a further thought I forgot to include in my last msg.  So, speaking of Moulin Rouge, and that episode of My Life Is Murder where Tem plays an aspiring musician (I would include a video or picture, but YT and Google are not cooperating today), imagine one of the three walking in on another singing a lullaby to which ever little one you decide on (or just a random foundling, even.)  I feel the best potential options here would be Satine or Jango walking in on the other (especially if the sexin’s have happened but the feels are still a WIP), both of them walking in on Obi-Wan, or Obi-Wan walking in on the two of them doing a duet.

Similarly, for the whole FIL thing; presuming that you’re going the “unexpected encounter lead to unplanned consequences of the natal variety” route, this could also work with him sending the two of them to check on the little one only to find Obi-Wan singing to him, or even just “accidentally” leaving a baby monitor turned on so they overhear it.  (Do I maybe have a thing about dudes who can sing?  That’s not important right now.  XD )  Hell, if you haven’t used it yet in Caught Somewhere In Time, I imagine one finding the other singing Cal to sleep would cause a rather powerful heart boner.  XD 

I feel like I had other thoughts, but I have to clock back in from lunch, so I will hush for now.  I hope you’re feeling good and the writing is flowing!  Take care!  *HUGS!*

Hi B! I have lots of thoughts, so In this one I’m just gonna wish you a good day at work and then write out an entire post for our little Jangobitine au. Because I have inspiration. And yes I am going to count my ramblings into my wordcount for nano cause I’ve only been editing and formatting today and I haven’t been writing. (Though I already passed 50K, I still want to get my 30 day badge XD).

I know I don’t have a way to tag you, but I will mail you the link. Promise.

And including your last message so I can answer both in one ask:

And oh, yes, I LOVE Moulin Rouge.  I remember seeing it in the theater when it first came out, and the soundtrack was in fairly regular rotation in my CD player (not to age myself or anything XD ).  Literally as soon as I hit send, my brain went "did you really just space on the fact that Ewan was in that, too?" XD  And the two of them were one of my favorite parts of Aquaman.  Everything about the two of them was just adorable, and I loved that they let her be taller than her love interest.  I'd seen jokes about two Satines in Ewan's character past before, but I think it was seeing her with the paler hair in Aquaman that made me go "wait..." and look up Satine Kryze's height on Wookipedia (which I'm pretty sure is Nicole's rl height, too.)  Hmm...her as Boba's mother just amuses the hell out of me for some reason, while her as Omega's mom could definitely explain the blond hair.

Speaking of nephews, a fair amount of SW fic I've read mentions Bo-Katan's nephew/Satine's son in ways that either heavily imply or outright state that he's Obi-Wan's son, and I don't know if he's technically alive at this point in canon (and I doubt they'd ever actually make that lineage real), but I'd love to see him roll up to Luke's Island of Misfit Jedi and watch the fallout of them all learning who he is, and also for more crossing of the Mandalorian/Jedi streams.  XD

#B #jangobitine #ben writes fanfics

[phoenixyfriend]

📓

Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about.

Okay so I want to keep most of my @anakin-rarepairs-week fics a surprise, so I won't share the main ship, but I can share the subplot! I haven't started writing yet, so it counts.

Anakin goes back in time. Fives and Echo go with him.

There is, as ever, a lot of bullshit in Anakin's life. He gets in a lot of trouble. He initially tries to get back to the Jedi, but quickly realizes that between his Phenomenal Power and the lack of oversight, he can get a lot done! So many slave traders and drug cartels he can just. Eliminate.

He doesn't see why no oversight might be a problem. Fives thinks his Jedi, undercover, is oversight enough. Echo has reservations, but generally contents himself with riding herd on the wildcards and pointing out consequences. All three of them are generally a bit Not Normal about the reasonable level of violence, because upbringings, and really need someone to rein them in, but it could be worse.

Officially, everyone considers them somewhere in the range of pirates or mercenaries. Anakin identifies as a vigilante. Fives identifies as a problem. Echo identifies as the voice of reason. They are all somewhat correct.

Anakin kicks up a Fancy Romance with a Jedi he keeps running into and teasing because he's very Pull Your Pigtails about men. This is not Padme, ergo, Does not compute, ergo, asshole mode.

In the background, Fives and Echo are quietly hearing that Jaster Mereel just adopted a foundling. They realize this is the Prime. But small Prime. A child. He hasn't done all the bullshit yet!

They're his clones, so they have blood relation, so they... should have custody, yes?

The Domino twins kidnap a violent and traumatized 8yo Mando kid in a bid to convince the Mand'alor to give them partial custody.

They get Jango back to the ship during one of Anakin's moments of "I've captured a Jedi and am going to flirt while we wait for all the other criminals to look away so it's not suspicious, at which point we'll split" which are frequent, and they have to explain to Anakin AND his crush that they've just kidnapped a "cousin" from the Mand'alor without explaining to said Mand'alor that they're related and not just looking for a ransom.

Anakin decides this is a Them problem until people start shooting. Don't kick off a war. Have fun.

His Jedi is horrified.

#star wars #the clone wars #phoenix answers memes #Domino twins #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #anakin skywalker #jango fett #jaster mereel

[syn0vial]

How Mandalorian is Boba Fett?

Hey y’all! Your local Star Wars nerd here, looking to weigh in on the discussion surrounding Boba Fett and his relative “Mandalorian-ness,” as questioned by both Din and Bo-katan in The Mandalorian. Thanks to the animosity between Boba and Bo-Katan as shown in the Season 2 Finale, there’ve been a lot of conflicting takes on the question, ranging from, “Bo-Katan is right, he’s not Mandalorian at all!” to “Bo-Katan is dead wrong, Boba Fett’s as Mando as they come!” Though we likely won’t get solid confirmation in the new canon for some time yet, I’d like to offer some insight about how Boba’s relationship to his Mandalorian heritage was portrayed in Star Wars: Legends/the Expanded Universe, which may shed light on what direction his character arc will take in new canon, including The Book of Boba Fett.

To start off, let’s begin with Jango Fett, Boba Fett’s father. In The Mandalorian, Boba states that his father was a foundling who served in the Mandalorian Civil War. This statement seems to canonize Jango’s backstory as it existed in the Expanded Universe: as a young child on Concord Dawn, his parents were killed and his sister enslaved by Death Watch, a Mandalorian splinter group. The young Jango was then found and adopted into a group of True Mandalorians led by Jaster Mereel, who stood in opposition to Death Watch, making Jango a foundling. He would grow up to fight alongside the True Mandalorians against Death Watch, even being named Mand’alor for a short time—until a tragic misunderstanding on the planet Galidraan would lead a contingent of Jedi to wipe out the True Mandalorians with Jango as the sole survivor. Now orphaned for a second time, Jango was handed over by the Jedi to the planetary government, who promptly sold the young man into slavery.

Jango would eventually escape slavery and become the bounty hunter we see in Episode II. Though he would still occasionally face off against remnants of Death Watch, his horrific experiences left him increasingly isolated and paranoid, and thus distant from other Mandalorians and their culture. Even so, he raised Boba with Mandalorian sensibilities of honor, strength, and family, plus aspects of their martial training. If you ask me, Boba Fett was raised Mandalorian—maybe not as rigorously as Din or Bo-Katan were, but in a way many children of immigrants or religious minorities living in diaspora would recognize.

However, one important thing to recognize about Mandalorian culture, at least in the Expanded Universe, is that a child, foundling or otherwise, is not considered a full-fledged adult Mandalorian until the age of 13. At that age, Mandalorian children were expected to take part in a rite of passage known as their verd’goten that would test their skills and honor. Only upon completing this trial would the child be considered an adult and an equal in Mandalorian society.

Except... Boba never got that opportunity. When Boba was ten years old, his father was killed and with him, Boba’s only connection to his heritage. In both Legends and in new canon, Boba spent the intervening years of his childhood as a fugitive and criminal, with no further Mandalorian education. Though the Expanded Universe shows him making some attempt to remain connected to his heritage (such as reading Mandalorian martial texts, joining the Journeyman Protectors, and marking his armor with a mythosaur emblem), he grew increasingly distant from Mandalorian culture and other people in general as he became older. Having never completed his verd’goten, even if he did try to claim Mandalorian status, he may have still been considered at least partially a pretender by other, stricter peers.

This brings us to the adult Boba Fett we see in both the Expanded Universe and in The Mandalorian: a man who makes no explicit claim to being Mandalorian, yet who clings to certain traditions all the same—his armor, his chain code, and the culture’s symbiology. So what does this mean for Boba Fett’s “Mandalorian-ness?” Is he a Mandalorian or not? As you can see, it’s a pretty complex question and it doesn’t have a clear yes-or-no answer. My own take: Boba Fett is more Mandalorian than Bo-Katan gives him credit for. He was raised by a Mandalorian, and Mandalorian culture has strongly influenced his identity, from his notions of honor to the way he dresses to the way he fights. That said, most Mandalorians would be unlikely to accept him as one of their own. He hasn’t completed his verd’goten, does not live with or seek out other Mandalorians, and explicitly refuses to swear loyalty to the Mandalorian cause or homeworld. Fett himself doesn’t try to claim status as a Mandalorian, as, ironically, his cultural Mandalorian background would give him full knowledge that he doesn’t officially “count.”

If you ask me, due to his Mandalorian upbringing and background, Boba has every right to wear Mandalorian armor and symbols, especially as his separation from his culture was not by choice, but enacted by two generations of compounding tragedy and, in Jango’s case, literal genocide. However, hopefully this post will also illuminate some of the reasons other Mandalorians might not accept Boba and why Boba himself might express ambivalence about his heritage. 

It should be noted that in the Expanded Universe, Boba does, through (sometimes literal) found family shenanigans, draw closer to his Mandalorian side, even becoming Mand’alor, albeit reluctantly. We can only wait and see whether The Book of Boba Fett and perhaps future Star Wars properties also further develop his shaky status as a Mandalorian.

#boba fett #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #mandalorian spoilers #you can tell i care about this subject bc i use correct punctuation and capitalization lol

[starlightrows]

In My Arms

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Tags: Angst, strangulation, kidnapping, hurt/comfort

Summary: The events of Chapter 14, where you do everything in your power to defend Grogu and suffer greatly for it

AN: Originally posted on AO3 in December 2020

Standing atop the mountain on Tython, you watched the ragged cape of your husband disappear of the ridge. Neither of you able to get through the magical energy field surrounding the Seeing Stone upon which your small vulnerable green foundling sat.

“Stay with him,” he had told you. “Stay with him, I’ll protect try to push them back”

You wanted so badly to try again, to push through whatever held you from him, to get him in your arms and run.

“Grogu!” You called out to him “Grogu, it’s me! We have to get out of here!” But he could not hear you, and he did not move.

Suddenly you hear a ship’s engine, followed by another. You turn from the child just in time to see both of the carrier ships have take off. You watch as a missile launches into the first carrier and crash into its backup. They burn up and make an awful noise on impact with the rocky terrain. The silence that follows, brings you such relief.

Only to be cut off, by the red light that illuminates the sky. You track the beam with you gaze, and watch as your home, the Razor Crest is obliterated. A choked sound escapes your body, halfway between a gasp and a scream.

Its quiet again, and you realize it’s too quiet. Whipping around you see the magical energy field has dissipated. Grogu is slumped on his side panting from the exertion, and making pitiful little sounds. You rush over to him, bringing him into your arms. Your instinct is to run, run to the ship. But there is no ship... the storm troopers have gone. So you stand there holding him, too stunned to move.

Too late... it’s too late when you realize it is not quiet at all. And it never was. You’re too overstimulated from the explosions and shock to realize they are descending until it’s too late. You have no where to run, and they surround you.

You draw him in closer, and pull your blaster from its holster. It doesn’t matter how many shots you unload at them, or where you hit them, the blasts seem to have no effect at all as they advance on them. You don’t think, you keep shooting as you try to back away.

Heavy metal prongs close around your neck and lift you off the ground. Your blaster drops from you hand, but you refuse to release the child. The vice grip tightens without mercy and you can’t help the drool escaping your lips with your futile attempts to breathe. Your vision is blurry and your head is pulsing, but you don’t let go.

Suddenly you feel intense pain, just at the end of your rib cage on the right side. Electricity flows through you, causing all your limbs to go rigid and then spasm uncontrollably. Grogu is yanked from your grip by another of the massive droids. As suddenly as they came, they take off into the air, releasing you without provocation.

You’re left laying on the dusty mountain top. Sweaty, shaking, violently coughing and trying desperately not to vomit. You become aware of the woman, Fennec Shand turning you over on to your side and holding you in position.

Din stands a few feet away speaking into a comlink. You can only hear the roaring of blood in your ears, eyes focused on whatever you’re eye level with, his boots.

You’re no longer coughing, but still breathing ragged and painfully. You squeeze your eyes shut, and pull out of Fennec’s hold. Rolling onto your knees and leaning forward. You press your hands into the ground, the feeling of the rough gravel pressing into your hands. It hurts, but it’s grounding. Your head is spinning. He’s gone. Your baby boy, is gone. The ship is gone. These two people, Fennec and the other Mandalorian seem to be helping now. It’s too much. It’s all too much. And you’re truly afraid you might black out. When his sturdy boots land in front of you.

He’s pulling you up with a gentle firmness. He’s upset and worried, you can tell. But you can’t find a single word to say to him. Not even sure you could manage to get any out give the state of your crushed windpipe.

He says your name and gives you a little shake “Answer me”. You don’t even realize he had been speaking, without the visual queues masked by his helmet you couldn’t distinguish his voice from the ringing in your ears.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp out, you’re horrified by how awful your voice sounds and more so by how painful even those two words were to get out.

He shakes his head. And helps pull you to your feet. He doesn’t say anything more, but leads you down the mountain. Towards the still billowing ashes of the ship. He sat you down on a fairly sizable rock, leaving you with Fennec and the other Mandalorian. You watched, with hollow gaze as Din descended into the crater. He kneels down a few times, picking through the rubble.

Returns to the small group, holding the only thing that survived, the spear Ahsoka Tano gifted him not even a week earlier. You stand peering at him for a long moment, hoping your eyes are locked with his beneath his helmet.

Finally he steps around, and stands beside you. Boba Fett explains the armor truly does belong to him, and he is the child of a foundling Mandalorian named Jango. You expect this to be it, a parting of ways, and being left to figure everything out from here. But you’re surprised when Boba Fett continues speaking, promising his help in rescuing your son.

“A deal is a deal” he says “come, we have work to do” he leads Din, Fennec and you to his ship. You can’t help looking back out at the black ash crater one last time before climbing in.

In ship is significantly more claustrophobic than the Crest, and that’s saying something. You try to stay out of the way, as Boba and Fennec prepare to take off. You sit against the wall of the hull, and tuck your knees into your chest. Din comes over and kneels down, placing a hand on the back of your head and pressing his helmet to your forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” he says. You nod numbly. And he disappears into the cockpit, presumably to give coordinates to wherever it is you go next after something like this.

True to his word, he returns closing the door to the small enclosed cargo hold. He reaches up and removes his helmet. You’re surprised to see his dirty face is streaked with tears. He was so composed through all this... to the point where it had begun to bother you.

He collapsed in front of you, bending his head down to touch yours again unencumbered by the beskar. His eyes squeezed shut, streaming with tears. His hands rest on your cheeks. He doesn’t say a word, and neither do you. What is there to say? It’s gonna be okay... you did your best... No, there may be a time for comforting words later, but right now the only thing you can stand is his gentle touch.

He lifts his head, and tilts yours up so you are forced to meet his gaze. His hand travel down from your cheek, and gingerly touch the red splotchy bruises forming on your neck.

“Are you in pain?” He asks through silent tears. You nod ever so slightly. You can’t lie to him, you are in pain. Your whole body feels achy and numb from being electrocuted, you throat is raw and throbbing, and the front your head seems to have a persistent pounding headache. But you don’t say any of that, it would only hurt you more to speak. His hands roam your body in a confused assessment of your physical health; as if he’s prepared for a limb to be missing or a blaster wound. Something he can treat with bacta and bandages. There’s only so much one can do for asphyxiation bruises and an electrode burn.

Finally he just pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you, cradling your head and neck while gently rocking back and forth. Your tears, and his spoke more words than you could ever vocalize in that moment. The pain of loss and vulnerability of terror, had shaken you both to your core. You don’t know how long you sat there holding one another.

“We’ve heading to Nevarro,” he said at last “Our friends will help us, we will get him back”

You squeezed him a little tighter, and nodded. That’s all you wanted.

“I want him back in my arms Din. I love him so much,” you sobbed

“I know cyare,” he breathes “I know”

Din Djarin Tag List: @spideysimpossiblegirl

#the mandalorian #The Mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #back logged fic

[swan-of-sunrise]

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Sixteen)

Summary: Din and (Y/N) try and process the loss of Grogu after teaming up with Boba Fett and Fennec Shand.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I promised you angst so here it is! This chapter’s a little shorter than usual, but I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Sixteen The Loss (Previous Chapter)

Before he met Grogu and (Y/N), Din had learned not to grow attachments to people or places; the life of a bounty hunter was too unpredictable, too dangerous, to allow for such luxuries and being a Mandalorian only added to that danger. But the one thing he allowed himself to cherish was the Razor Crest, his faithful ship that had never once let him down. Almost every piece of it had been repaired or replaced and he couldn’t deny that it looked like a hunk of junk at first glance, but it had also been his home and the one place where he didn’t have to hide behind his Creed. And now it’s gone along with the kid, Din thought to himself, blinking back tears as he walked through the smoking crater and the remains of his ship.

(Y/N) was standing at the edge of the crater beside Fennec and Boba, his jetpack resting under her arm while her hand pressed against the blaster wound on her side. He hadn’t had the heart to go back and retrieve his jetpack, knowing that he could’ve saved Grogu from the droids if only he’d been wearing it, so (Y/N) had gone and gotten it herself. The pain written across her face made Din look down at the charred remains of the ship, and a small part of him hoped that something – anything – of hers had survived the blast. After a moment of looking around, he caught sight of a piece of a familiar storage container and his heart sank even further; all of the captain’s belongings, the things that had meant so much to her that she’d hired a fearsome Mandalorian to help get them back from a crime syndicate, were all gone.

“Ni ceta, alor’ad,” He whispered, his eyes continuing to scan the piles of ash. A rounded metal sphere sticking out from one pile caught his attention and when he picked it up, he realized with a jolt that it was the same metal sphere that the child loved playing with from the moment he first boarded the ship. His gloved fingers tightened around the sphere for a moment before he tucked it away in the pouch at his waist.

“Din,” The captain’s voice softly called out behind him; he turned around to see her standing before him with the beskar spear they’d received from Ahsoka Tano in her hand. “I think this is the only weapon that survived.”

His eyes were drawn to the singed and bloody clothing on her side and without hesitation, he quickly took the jetpack and fastened it to his back before taking the spear from her. “We should get that wound looked at, alor’ad.”

“It looks worse than it is; I’ll be okay once I put a bacta patch on it.” (Y/N)’s gaze was lowered, and he realized that she was looking at what little was left of her storage container. “I think they both wanna talk to us…”

Din nodded and the two of them walked side-by-side out of the crater, his free hand moving to rest on the small of her back. They made their way to where the pair stood and he held out the spear for them to see. “This is all that survived.”

“Beskar,” Boba remarked, glancing between Din and (Y/N) before tapping on his vambrace. “I want you both to take a look at something.” A golden hologram flickered to life and it took Din a moment to recognize the Mando’a letters. “My chain code had been encoded in this armor for twenty-five years.” He brought his other hand up and pointed to a section of the hologram. “You see, this is me, Boba Fett and this is my father, Jango Fett.”

As he read the letters, Din’s brow rose in surprise. “Your father was a foundling.”

“Yes. He even fought in the Mandalorian Civil Wars.”

Boba turned off the hologram and Din let out a sigh. “Then that armor belongs to you.”

The man, who (Y/N) had earlier stated was an infamous bounty hunter, nodded once. “I appreciate its return.”

“Then our deal is complete.”

“…Not quite.”

(Y/N) shifted beside Din. “How so?”

“We agreed in exchange for the return of my armor,” Boba gestured towards himself and Fennec as he addressed Din’s partner. “That we will ensure the safety of the child, Captain.”

Din swallowed the lump in his throat. “The child’s gone.”

“Until he is returned to you both safely, we are in your debt.” Boba’s expression was resolute and beside him, Fennec nodded in agreement. “We should head to my ship; our medkit isn’t fully stocked, but we have enough supplies to treat that blaster wound. Then, we can plan our next move.”

With nods of thanks, Din and (Y/N) followed Boba and Fennec into his ship, the Slave I; the bounty hunter disappeared into the cockpit while Fennec retrieved their medkit and helped (Y/N) sit down on a bench near the back. The sharpshooter moved to sit at the opposite end of the ship, giving the two of them some privacy as the ship began its takeoff. After helping the captain take off her coat and removing his gloves, Din knelt on the floor of the ship and carefully rolled up the hem of her shirt, furrowing his brow in concern at what he saw. “You’re right, it looks worse than it probably is but I still need to clean it before putting any bacta on.”

(Y/N) nodded but remained silent, staring down at the floor while Din focused on his work; he was as gentle as he could be, far more gentle than he ever was with his own wounds, and in no time the bacta patch was secured over her wound. Just as he was preparing to stand, the captain grabbed his hand to stop him. “Din?” Her voice was unusually timid and when he looked up at her, he was shocked to see that her eyes were filled with unshed tears. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to protect him, I-I should’ve stayed and-”

“Alor’ad, no, it wasn’t your fault.” Din interrupted, bringing his free hand up to cradle the side of her face. “You did everything right, and if anyone’s to be blamed it’s me.” There was an argumentative look on her face at his words but he shook his head before she could say anything. “I took off my jetpack, (Y/N), I left the kid defenseless and I didn’t stop…I didn’t stop those droids from taking him.”

“They would’ve hurt you, Din, or worse.”

His fingers tightened around her hand. “This is the Way.”

“Please don’t say that, Din,” She practically begged as she began shaking her head. “It’s bad enough that Grogu’s gone, I-I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you both…!”

Din quickly moved to sit beside (Y/N), mindful of her blaster wound as he eased her onto his lap and held her close. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, ner cyar’ika alor’ad.” His own eyes welled with tears as he silently thanked the Maker that his partner hadn’t been taken from him too. If that had happened, if the Empire had succeeded in taking everything from him again, he wasn’t sure he’d survive the pain; as he took a shuddering breath, he brought one hand up and began stroking her hair while he let her continue squeezing the other. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The captain looked directly into the visor of his helmet while her fingers curled tight around his. “And I’m not going anywhere either, Din. I promise.” Resting her free hand against the side of his helmet, she coaxed his head down before touching her forehead with hers. Din blinked in surprise at her action; he’d never told her about Keldabe kisses and their importance in Mandalorian culture, but it seemed that she somehow understood his impulsive gesture after her farewell song back on Corvus. I don’t know what I’ve done in my life to deserve someone like her, he thought to himself, his eyes squeezing shut as his tears rolled down his cheeks.

As (Y/N)’s eyelids began growing heavy, Din carefully eased her off of his lap and bundled his cowl into a makeshift pillow before guiding her to lie down. He knelt before her and gently wiped away her stray tears, his heart warming as she nuzzled into the fabric of his cowl and quickly fell asleep. Pushing himself off the ground, Din made his way over to where Fennec was seated; she was cleaning her blaster rifle but he got the feeling that the sharpshooter had been watching the two of them.

“Can I speak to you and Fett?”

Fennec nodded, reaching a hand towards the control panel beside her and flipping a switch. “Mando’s ready to talk.”

There was a noise from above and moments later, Boba was making his way down from the cockpit. After moving to stand beside Fennec, the bounty hunter’s eyes flicked over to where (Y/N) was sleeping. “How’s your partner?”

“Better; her blaster wound wasn’t deep but she’s resting now. If we’re gonna track down Moff Gideon then we’ll need some ex-Imperial help, so we’ll need to chart our course for Nevarro.”

“Nevarro?” Fennec raised a skeptical brow. “Rumor has it that the planet’s completely free of Imperial control, all thanks to their brand-new marshal. Are you sure that’s where you think we should start?”

“I have a friend there that can help us find an ex-Imperial I once knew,” Din sighed a little as he spoke. “At least, I hope she can…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Cara Dune, Marshal of the New Republic.” Din examined the metal signet with a small smile before tossing it back to its owner. “I heard rumors that you might’ve gone legit.”

Cara smirked and set her marshal signet down on her desk. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Beside Din, (Y/N) cleared her throat and shifted her weight, stifling a wince of pain as she pressed a hand to her wounded side; he’d tried convincing the captain to stay on the Slave I with Boba and Fennec but she insisted on accompanying him. “We need your help, Cara.”

“Name it.”

Din gestured towards the machine sitting on her desk. “We need you to locate someone in the prison registry.”

“Let’s see what I can do.” The marshal sat up, sliding her ankles off the edge of her desk and reaching toward the registry’s dials.

“Ex-Imperial sharpshooter, last name Mayfeld. Apprehended near the Dilesrti system on a derelict prison ship.” As he spoke, he glanced over at (Y/N) beside him and met her critical gaze; after their misadventure with the New Republic Rangers on Maldo Kreis, he’d told her about his brief dealings with Ran and his crew and explained why he’d been wanted by the New Republic. Seems like I’ll never hear the end of that job, Din thought in annoyance, but if working with Mayfeld helps us get the kid back then…

“Migs Mayfeld.” Cara’s brow rose as she began reading off the registry. “Serving fifty years in the Karthon Chop Fields for springing a prisoner himself. Accessory to the death of a New Republic officer. Huh.” She looked up from the registry, her eyes narrowing as she looked between the two of them. “Sounds like a real piece of work. What do you two want with him?”

Din closed his eyes, the memory of Grogu being taken by droids and his ship being destroyed filling his mind as he answered her. “We need to spring him to help us locate Moff Gideon’s light cruiser.”

His eyes opened in time to see her lean back in her seat and frown. “You know how I feel about the Empire, but these stripes mean there are rules I need to follow.”

“Cara…” (Y/N) stepped forward and took hold of one of Din’s hands, biting her lip before speaking the words that he didn’t have the strength to. “They took the little guy.”

The marshal’s expression hardened, and Din knew that they were one step closer to getting Grogu back and ending Moff Gideon once and for all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Thank you guys so much for reading!

Mando'a Translations: Ni ceta, alor’ad-Sorry, captain Alor'ad-Captain Ner cyar’ika alor’ad-My darling captain

Chapter Seventeen

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty​ @sinon36​ @seninjakitey​ @thatonedindjarinfan​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​ @mostclevermiss @momc95​ @welcometothepedroverse​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @zukoyonce​ @itsnottilly​

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din x reader #mando x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #baby yoda #fennec shand #boba fett #cara dune

[crispyjenkins]

Crown prince of Stewjon obi and Ven’Alor jango childhood sweethearts

(JangObi Ao3: *congested with dark and possessive and stockholm aus* me: me: anyways here's wholesome JangObi in love  

also for @ironhoshi because i just. i love hosh. and their soulmate fic Drarulam. i’m sorry i keep missing your messages, lovely T0T)

  "Please at least pretend to be concerned about your own safety," Jango begs as they move quickly through the castle halls, and his charge has the gall to laugh at him.

  "I surely don't know what you mean, a mhuirnín," Obi-Wan says lightly, as if they didn't in fact have a mob of pissed-off Gardulla the Hutt supporters and slavers storming the castle as they speak. 

  Jango levels him with a glare, and Obi-Wan at the very least winces. "One of these days, I'm not going to be around to stop you mouthing off to the wrong person, and they're going to decapitate you."

  "That's hardly fair," Obi-Wan says, letting Jango tug him into a smaller corridor and down a short flight of stairs. "After all, it's not as if you've ever not been there."

  "Then you are a fool as well as an idiot."

  "I'm not sure how your father would feel knowing you call your employer an idiot."

  "Don't you kriffing dare tell Jaster about this, or I'll decapitate you."

  Obi-Wan laughs and slips Jango's grip on his wrist to his hand instead. "Another secret between us, then."

-

  “This isn't part of my contract."

  Obi-Wan looks up from the blaster rifle he's trying to unjam with the remains of a droid antenna, as Jango pops up and fires his own blaster out the shattered window, releasing a volley of bolts before ducking back down under the sill. 

  "Isn't your contract to protect me?" Obi-Wan smiles benignly, jamming the antenna into the rifle's entry chamber until he feels a soft click, and the entire rifle starts to hum as it powers up again. 

  "No, my contract is to protect the entire royal family, not just your hyperactive shebs."

  He scoffs and scoots along the floor until he's close enough to slip his hand into the front of Jango's jacket and relieve him of a blaster cartridge, Jango angling himself so Obi-Wan has easier access as he shoots another volley out the window. Obi-Wan actually feels sort of bad for whoever owns the house they've barricaded themselves in, when another window shatters under the blasterfire from the slave runners that they hadn’t been able to lose after escaping the castle. He’ll have to find the owner and pay for the damages, whenever they get out of this mess. 

  "I'm not hyperactive." Locking in the cartridge, Obi-Wan slams the safety off and twists in place to rock to his feet, crouched as he sets the barrel of his rifle onto the sill. Making sure to keep his head down, he lets the Force gently guide his hands until he has Gardulla's lackeys in his scope. "I simply think it's ludicrous that I have to pretend to tolerate that slimy bastard's even slimier followers." He fires twice, then dips back down to let the rifle cool down; not for the first time, Obi-Wan envies Jango's Westars.

  Jango growls. “Where the kriff is Myles?”

  With a snort, Obi-Wan takes out two more human slavers. “Probably trying to get into Cerasi’s pants.”

  “Please don’t make me imagine your sister’s pants.”

  “Weren’t you in love with her when we were ten?”

  “Your highness, please focus on the task at hand.”

  “Oh, we’re pulling out titles, now? Well then, trooper, the one in the blue hat is their leader, and the rest are probably too stupid to make decisions without them.”

  Jango glances down at him, face twisted unhappily, but easily takes out the human with the blue hat; their body jolts and then tips off the roof to hit the stone road in a heap, and the blasterfire abruptly stops. Cowards.

  Settling the rifle muzzle at the corner of the sill to make a mental map of the remaining shooters, Obi-Wan feels Jango shift to pull out his comm, before cursing softly in Mando’a. At his raised brow, Jango holds up the comm.

  “No kriffing signal. Not just a weak one, it can’t find a connection anywhere.”

  “They haven’t had the time to take out the comm towers,” Obi-Wan says, and Jango grunts his agreement. 

  “Not since you mouthed off to them in the throne room, no. They must have set something up before their audience with you.”

  Which has more implications than Obi-Wan really has the status to do anything about with Cerasi still off-world for another cycle, but something like glee fills his chest. “So I could have said anything to them?” he asks innocently, “They were going to attack no matter what I did?” and Jango drags a hand down his face.

  “You’ll be unbearable after this,” he sighs, clipping his comm back onto his vambrace so he can carefully switch to the other side of the window. “How many Twi’lek were there?”

  “Three, not including the one you shot in the hangar bay. I count four humans,” Obi-Wan answers, still smiling because he’ll be holding this over Jango for kriffing weeks.

  “I count five.” Jango checks his blaster cartridge while Obi-Wan quickly finds the last human slaver that he’d missed in the furthest alley. “You have the rooftops?”

  “And the fifth, he’s too far for your Westars.”

  When Jango had first started coming to Stewjon with Jaster, Obi-Wan wasn’t even allowed to know blasters existed, much less know how to fire one. He still isn’t sure how Jaster had weaseled a teaching contract out of the King on top of the first guard contracts, and Jango knows intimately how far Obi-Wan has come in terms of defending himself, having spectated his lessons with Jaster since Obi-Wan was ten. Even a year younger, Jango could wipe the floor with him then, just by virtue of being the Mand’alor’s foundling.

  So the half-smitten look Jango shoots him from across the window has two decades of understanding behind it; even after this long, Obi-Wan flusters under the praise.

  “If we didn’t have people to kill, I’d kiss you,” Jango announces, smile set back into a frown, but his eyes glint in amusement.

  Obi-Wan brushes up against him in the Force instead, because even though Jango can’t respond, he can still feel it. “There will be time later, a mhuirnín,” Obi-Wan murmurs, just to see his eyes crinkle at the corners.

-

  Cerasi is already in the throne room when they finally make it back to the castle the next morning, looking up from where she stands by the war table and immediately closing her eyes in search of patience. Her personal guard, Nield, straightens at her side and turns quickly to hide his sudden guffaw. 

  And Obi-Wan knows they look quite the sight, half-drowned from their escape through the mote with Jango’s helmet conspicuously missing; the sleeved-cloak wrapped around Obi-Wan clearly wasn’t made for him. Soot somehow still smears their faces even after their impromptu swim, and it really doesn’t paint the prettiest picture of their afternoon.

  “Brother dear,” Cerasi says, her tone dangerous as Obi-Wan hops forward to plant a quick kiss on her cheek, “I thought I told you you weren’t to start a war with the Hutts while I was gone.”

  He winces, but still tries to charm his twin with a smile. “This time it really wasn’t my fault, ‘Rasi: Gardulla has been planning this for years.”

  “Mhm,” she pretends to humor him, before turning a raised brow to Jango. “And you, you were supposed to keep him out of trouble.”

  “The only way to do that would be to muzzle him,” Jango says, completely serious, and Nield nearly chokes on his tongue.

  Obi-Wan sniffs in offense, turning to lean against the table and careless of any buttons he might sit on. “I do wish you’d save such discussions for behind closed doors, love.” 

  Jango and Cerasi release a sigh in tandem, that exhausted sort of resignation the only thing his sister and his partner can agree on. 

  “You could always tie him down,” Nield offers, voice strangled as his shoulders shake, his humor nearly vibrating him out of his beskar’gam. 

  “This isn’t part of my contract,” Jango growls — even though any Mando that takes a Stewjoni contract knows that the royal family are almost violently wont to adopt them, if the Mand’alor doesn’t negotiate the terms himself. 

  (Although, sometimes they aren’t safe, even then.)

A mhuirnín — “my dear”,  Irish Gaelic (Google is telling me a different spelling than I grew up with so (ノ*゜▽゜*)?? ) shebs — “ass” or “rear end”, Mando’a beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy Ver’alor — “lieutenant”, Mando’a

#prompt fill #crispy writes #jangobi #au #stewjoni obi wan #crown prince obi wan #childhood sweethearts #stewjoni culture #i forget how to tag things #prequel trilogy #obi wan kenobi #jango fett #nield of the young #cerasi of the young #obi and cerasi are twins! #because i said so! #another day another fic where i give obi wan a rifle #same age au #ish #anyways #*slams fists on table* mando nield mando nield mando nield #stewjoni is space ireland in a plot twist from hell #ask fill #ask box is closed but will be open again soon! #mando'a #irish gaelic #ver'alor jango #reblogs > likes

[one-real-imonkey]

ur tags so true!! boba thinking abt his dad being a foundling. and setting how boba mistakenly thinks he doesn't count actually. idkdkdkdkdkdk

also its a shame dins adoption look to similar to jangos adoption. coz "he's dead. fele better?" really hits

I adore the “he’s dead, feel better?” It does hit.

It think they could emphasise the difference between Jango fighting and leading the TM away from the danger while the group who save Din take him away from the danger. But at the same time they were both saved from danger by Mandalorians and raised into that culture by a specific group. They also both lost their parents unfairly.

(Ignoring the similarities between the Covert and the TM for the moment but damn are they there)

But yeah Boba counts as Mandalorian and so does Jango and I’ll fight people on that. And I mean yes Jango was a foundling but he was also the child of a Journeyman Protector on a Mandalorian world within the Mandalorian sector and influenced/run by Mandalorian politics, how was he not already Mandalorian.

But at the end of the day please give me young Jango and Jaster. I’d die a little but it would be worth it.

#star wars #jester mereel #ask response #Jango fett is Mandalorian #Jango fett #Jaster mereel #boba fett #din djarin #the book of boba fett #Mandalorians

[feelinkeeli]

Ohh!! Maybe i have a fluffy prompt for Jangobi!! How about bringing Boba to bed? It could be one of them telling a bed time story, or singing a lullaby, (and the other one observing that and having emotions,,,) The Details are up to you tho, i'd say general prompt is bringing Boba to bed. Thanks for opening prompts and feel free to ignore this one if it doesn't vibe with you!!

Featuring some lines from Amhrán na bhFiann because I lack a poetic soul and cannot invent lyrics. And the song worked for this. Again, maybe You Have a Place (at my side) verse.

-*-

Jango woke slowly. Something was wrong but he was too sleep addled to parse out what. At least he was until he realized Obi-wan’s side of the bed was empty and cold. With a tired sigh he realized that Boba must have woken up in the middle of the night again and Obi-wan must have gotten up to resettle the infant.

Feeling a stab of guilt, Jango slowly got up to see if Obi-wan needed help. Both of them were still on paternity leave but Obi-wan still did what work he could from home as Jaster made more and more noise about wanting to retire from the position of Mand'alor. Obi-wan needed what rest he could get and it wasn't right from him to be the only one regularly losing sleep because Boba no longer slept through the night.

Their home wasn't large but it still took him until he was at the doorway of Boba's nursery room to hear Obi-wan talking to Boba. Jango frowned as Obi-wan’s voice grew more distinct and realized Obi-wan wasn't talking but singing.

"Is fonnmhar faobhrach sinn chun gleo, ’S go tiúnmhar glé roimh thíocht don ló," Obi-wan sang softly is a language Jango didn’t know.

In Obi-wan’s arms, Boba yawn as he failed one fist around until he managed to find Obi-wan’s sleep shirt and grab it. Jango leaned against the doorway unnoticed and watched as Obi-wan smiled down at their ik'ad, expression warm with love. The sight was everything he wanted since he and Obi-wan spoke the ridurrok. 

This was just the beginning Jango promised to himself. They might not have had any luck with Foundlings, unless you counted Obi-wan adopting Shmi and Anakin as his aliit, so far but Jango knew their luck would change eventually. They would have more children, Jango felt the certainty of it in his soul, in his connection to Manda. He didn't need the Force to know there would be others that would call him and Obi-wan buire.

"Fé chiúnas chaomh na hoíche ar seol, Seo libh, canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann," Obi-wan continued to sing as he settled Boba back into the crib. Carefully he pried his nightshirt free of Boba's grasp, giving the tiny fist a kiss before letting go.

"What language is that?" Jango asked softly. Perhaps his presence was noticed since Obi-wan didn't startle.

"An old Stewjoni dialect from the islands off the mainland. It's not a lullaby, at least not by Stewjoni standards but it seemed fitting as a Mandalorian one," Obi-wan said as he carefully made his way out of Boba's room.

Before Obi-wan could pass him, Jango wrapped his arms around Obi-wan’s waist and kissed Obi-wan chastely on the lips. Obi-wan gave an appreciative yet curious hum at the gesture.

"Ni kar'tayli darasuum," Jango whispered as their lips parted. "Let's get back to bed, cyare. Let me take care of Boba if he wakes again."

Obi-wan looked ready to protest so Jango gave him another chaste kiss. 

"Oh, alright," Obi-wan said with clear reluctance. "We can do it together."

That wasn't the outcome Jango wanted but he was too tired to argue further. At least if they did it together Jango could listen to Obi-wan sing again and maybe teach his riduur some actual Mandalorian lullabies.

#jango fett #boba fett #obi wan kenobi #jangobi #kenfetti #you have a place (at my side) verse #maybe #still not sure about the clones - including Boba

[mandalorianchronicles]

So What Makes a Mandalorian a Mandalorian? || Part One

Among the main themes playing out in this season, Din’s perception about Mandalorians is a major one. Those of us who grew up with Star Wars - watched the movies, the TV series, read the books - basically consumed as much Star Wars content as we could...we have a lot of Mandalorian lore and information to  sift through and many of it is contradictory. 

For those who saw the OT, Boba Fett was the original Mandalorian. There were many books written about this one bounty hunter who had a soft spot for the nastiest characters in the galaxy. They were always writing him to have this complicated code of honor that made him sort of good, even though he was clearly bad. We *wanted* him to be good.

Then the PT came out and we got his backstory. Jango Fett was a bounty hunter who took a job as the DNA donor for the entire GAR and kept one unaltered clone for himself to raise as a son. When the Jedi killed Jango, 10-year-old Boba was left alone, nursing a deep hatred for the Jedi (or at least, for Mace Windu). His fondness for the Empire in his later years now made more sense. 

But Boba still wasn’t a Mandalorian, as nothing that the EU books or comics had released about him was counted as canon, even before Disney took over. Then TCW came out and we had even more insight into Boba. We saw his complete disregard for his clone brothers. We saw Aurra Sing leading him down a darker and darker path - but we also saw how he didn’t enjoy killing for the sake of killing either. That much, his father had instilled in him. In interviews, we discovered that George Lucas had never intended for either Jango or Boba to be true Mandalorians, something that TCW seemed to confirm when Obi-Wan Kenobi asked the Prime Minister of Mandalore about Jango and Almec stated that Jango was not a Mandalorian and he didn’t even know how Jango had come by that armor. The case seemed closed at that point, though many fans doggedly clung to the lore than Boba and Jango were Mandalorians.

Fast forward to today. We learned a few important things about Boba:

1) His armor is actually his father’s. There was conflicting lore about this as well, none of it confirmed in canon. Some said it was Jango’s, others said it was his own. Some even said that it was made of carbon steel, instead of beskar. Glad that’s settled.

2) Boba never took the creed. This was assumed by most everyone who watch TCW, but it’s good that it was confirmed. So, if you go by the supposition that true Mandalorians are not a race, but a creed - Boba Fett is not Mandalorian.

3) Jango *might* have been a Mandalorian. He was a foundling and he was given the armor by Mandalorians. That would imply that he did take the creed, but it doesn’t confirm it. Foundlings who are raised by Mandalorians are allowed to take the creed when they come of age, and then they are given their own armor. However, as we know from season one, foundlings who take the creed are all recorded in the Hall of Records on Mandalore, something that Prime Minister Almec would have had access to. He obviously knew Jango, but was emphatic about the fact that Jango was NOT Mandalorian. So, did Jango actually take the creed to become a true Mandalorian? Was he “given” the armor or did he take it? Is The Mandalorian retconning TCW or is there more to the story? We may never know. Regardless, he was killed, and Boba inherited the beskar. And now he has it back.

Which brings us back to the Din’s identity crisis in season 2. 

Din has learned some very important things about Mandalorians over the past several weeks, and I’d say he’s taking it very well. We started out with him meeting Cobb Vanth, a non-Mandalorian wearing Boba’s armor. When he took off the helmet, Din rightly assumed he was not a Mandalorian. They worked out a deal, and Din kept the armor because it belonged with a true Mandalorian.

Next, Din met Bo-Katan Kryze. When she took off her helmet, Din wrongly assumed she was not a Mandalorian. She informed him that he was part of the Children of the Watch, a fringe cult of Mandalorian zealots who believe in “the way”. I’m going to pause here and define what a cult is for people who have been debating this for the last few weeks.

A cult is “a system of religious veneration and devotion directed toward a particular figure or object.” In the case of CotW, their devotion is directed to the armor itself. Mandalorians existed long before they had their armor (according to legend). They developed the beskar armor to even the playing field against their ancient enemies, the Jedi...and everyone else in the known galaxy. We have seen people born on Mandalore (I’ll call them indigenous Mandalorians, even though they are supposedly not the original aliens who inhabited Mandalore) who live their daily lives without armor. We’ve seen how certain indigenous Mandalorians have rejected the warrior ways, though it’s unclear if they still swore to the Mandalorian creed - which I would love to have a canon copy of (please, Filoni?). Even the warrior Mandalorians who owned armor were not always wearing it, and certainly didn’t have a problem showing their faces. 

To the warriors like Gar Saxon, Sabine Wren, Bo-Katan, Pre Vizsla, and Fenn Rau - their armor is important to their heritage and their line of work, but it is not their entire identity. Take off the armor and they are still Mandalorians. Not so with the CoTW. Take off that armor in front of another person, and you are no longer able to put it on again. Get defeated just once in combat and an enemy removes your helmet, and you are no longer a Mandalorian. Their entire identity revolves around the beskar. It’s implied that a single failure results in expulsion from the group, unless you’re fine being that one person who walks around naked and exposed, the humiliation and shame of your failure staring you in the face behind expressionless masks every moment of every day. THAT is what makes Din’s group a cult, and if you have a problem with the term, I’m sorry. But that’s what is is. 

Moving on. Din has suddenly been made aware that “the way” is not the ONLY way. He rejects this at first, but Bo-Katan masterfully draws him into a mission that she did not need his help with to show that if he ever decided to be open-minded, he had a place with them. I’ll write more on her later, but I don’t have the time to do her justice here. She gets in her digs in true Bo-Katan fashion, but in the end, you can tell that Din has begun to accept her as legit.

Milestone #1: Okay, so some Mandalorians who swore to the creed take off their helmets in front of other people, but they can put it back on again.

Next, Din met Boba Fett and learned that he did not swear the creed. Since the armor was in Din’s possession, obviously Boba had been defeated at some point by someone (if he only knew it was an accidental bump to the jetpack by a blind Han Solo). But since Din forgot to lock up the Razor Crest with its state of the art ground security protocols which I will now never know the details of, Boba snuck in and took his armor back. He then proceeds to take out a few squads of stormtroopers with it, earning some brownie points. Remarkably, Din does not threaten to take it off him as he did with Vanth, but I sure wanted to...ahem. I digress. When Boba shows his chain code (which is apparently also a birth certificate and might have cleared up some lineage confusion in past films), Din just accepts that because Jango was a foundling, the armor rightfully belonged to Boba.

Milestone #2: You can be defeated and have your armor taken away from you and still put it back on again.

Milestone #3: You don’t even have to swear to the creed of Mandalore to have the right to wear beskar armor, as long as your father (or, sole DNA donor) was a Mandalorian foundling.

We’re seeing Din’s ingrained worship of the armor being stripped away one layer at a time. He’s learning that what makes someone Mandalorian does not begin and end with the metal plates they attach to their bodies. It’s deeper than that. And I, for one, cannot wait to see where this leads him.

#The mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #boba fett #the tragedy #din djarin #children of the watch #the mandalorian creed #jango fett

[phoenixyfriend]

Jangobi 5 for the soulmate thing? Because that would make the fight on kamino just *chef's kiss*

soulmate au prompts

5. the one where you don’t know your soulmate until you touch them.

Apparently there’s never any skin to skin contact in the movie? Because armor? So......... we’re gonna just. Quick little thing.

Also I’ve been doing a lot of “marginally less shitty” Jango, but this is just-as-shitty-as-canon Jango. It’s, uh, not much of a romance, because Kamino. Actually it’s mostly just a lot of angry yelling about human rights violations.

...I’m sure they’ll get together eventually. It’s just, you know... it’s going to take a while.

------

Jango’s heard about this Jedi.

The man isn’t famous, or particularly acclaimed. It’s just that Mandalorians gossip, and Death Watch isn’t exempt, and Dred Priest still has friends in the terrorist group. So do a few others.

(Jango sometimes wonders if he’d have invited Priest, had he knows the monster was only a step away from being Death Watch himself.)

(Probably not.)

(He’d at least have been able to see the battle circles coming.)

Death Watch hates one specific Jedi above all others: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

It’s almost enough to make a man like the pretty bastard, except the reason Death Watch hates this specific Jedi is because he kept Duchess Kryze alive, and Jango isn’t much of a fan of hers, either.

In the moment, though, the main thing this all means is that Obi-Wan Kenobi knows Mandalorian customs.

First meetings, out of armor, mean ensuring the arm clasp has skin contact.

His eyes flick down to where Jango is reflexively pulling up his sleeves, and the man just... does the same, sodden as the beige-on-brown-on-dark-brown robes are.

Jango can’t just play it off. He has to, ugh, arm clasp with a Jedi.

Kenobi probably guesses how unpleasant this is for him, going by the grim little smile that he wears, the one Taun We can’t read and Jango can, but they touch forearms and le--

They do not let go.

“Oh kriff,” Kenobi swears, and then it’s just... it’s too late. It’s too late to stop anything.

“Jetii,” Jango spits as if it’s a swear.

He doesn’t want to be soulmates with a Jedi. No sane person ever wants to be soulmates with a Jedi, but as a Mandalorian, and as specifically Jango Fett, who signed onto this project for revenge against Jedi, the idea is just... excruciating.

“For revenge? Not entirely unexpected, but I’m still somehow disappointed.”

“Stay out of my head.”

Kenobi smiles at him, completely devoid of anything but the blackest of humor. “Are you staying out of mine?”

And, well, no. They’re soulmates. Kenobi has more of an idea on how to control how far his mind wanders into Jango’s, but in this moment, just seconds after being bound together by the universe... Jango’s slamming into Kenobi’s shields with an embarrassing lack of control.

“Is something the matter?” Taun We asks.

“I do believe we need to speak alone,” Kenobi says. “Unfortunate timing, but this is our first meeting, and it appears we are soulmates.”

“Ah. We were informed of the human tendency towards such.” She blinks, too large eyes impossible to read for Kenobi, but entirely readable for Jango after all these years. She’s irritated. “I apologize, but it appears we were unable to remove such unpredictability from the product.”

A wave of revulsion leaks out of Kenobi’s mind and into Jango’s. The man just nods. “I understand. As it is, I imagine that the near instantaneous communication on the battlefield will be a boon, if any are bonded to each other or to active soldiers.”

“I defer to your judgement as client, Master Kenobi,” Taun We hums, still irritable. It’s less visible in her face, but... Kenobi can feel it. “I shall leave you to get... acquainted.”

Aaaaaaaand she’s expecting them to sleep together the second she turns her back. The disgust she feels at the thought of such carnal activities is thirdhand to Jango, but he can still feel it, because Kenobi can feel it, because they’re soulmates.

“Oh, do tell me how you really feel,” Kenobi mutters, sweeping past him into the apartment.

Jango wishes he could slam the door as he storms after the Jedi.

“Listen here--”

“Absolutely not,” Kenobi says, with the kind of bland, impersonal smile that Jango’s heard Dred Priest bitch about at least a dozen times. “I need you to answer me this: why are you selling your children into what is clearly slavery?”

“They’re not my children.”

“You choose to be dar’buir, then?” Kenobi clucks a tongue, acting like he can’t even feel Jango’s waves of hate that are just growing by the second. “Shame on you, Mand’alor.”

“I am not the Mand’alor.”

“No. You are demagolka,” Kenobi says, the sweet words of Jango’s first language falling from his lips like poisoned honey. “They are your children, Fett. Your clones, just as human as you.”

“They are little more than droids, Jedi. The Kaminoans--”

Kenobi laughs, sharp and bitter, and it’s enough of a surprise that Jango stops talking. The Jedi strides closer, and it takes everything in him to not step back at what little emotion the Jedi allows through.

“Let me show you,” Kenobi hisses, putting a hand on either side of Jango’s head and it’s too much this is not a sense he is meant to have.

Kenobi cannot lie to Jango, not in this mental space. Not in this existence. He can cherry-pick what he shows, he can exaggerate, he can hide, but he cannot present a falsehood.

What Kenobi shows him, as he pulls Jango into his mind and drowns him in the sensation of the Force, is how each and every clone shines, bright and unique and so very human, so very sentient, so very alive.

These are your children, Kenobi says, directly into his mind and with no room to pull away. If they choose to disown you for your crimes against them, then that is their right, but until they do, they are your responsibility. You’re playing in denial and cognitive dissonance, soulmate mine. If I have to drag you into caring for your children the way any Mandalorian would, then so be it.

“Kriff off,” Jango manages to grit out in the real world. Kenobi looks unimpressed, when he lets go. The sensations in Jango’s mind, the jangled distaste and horror and anger, those are worse.

“Are you going to be dar’manda?” Kenobi demands. “You, who were once king of your people, have you really sunk so low to be the worst of your kind? To be so horrible that even Kyr’tsad would be shamed? Or worse, approve?”

“You have no place--”

“You are violating one of the core tenets of your culture!” Kenobi shouts. “You are being the worst of what you could be, Jango Fett! The most important, the absolute most important element of your culture, the care and nurture of children, and look at what you’ve done--”

“The clones--”

“Your sons!” Kenobi growls at him. “Your children, Fett. I’ve a student that is, by every Mandalorian standard, my son. I know what it is to take in a child that is not yours by blood, to raise a foundling, and you are cutting off millions that are your blood. You aren’t turning away an orphan to another family because you cannot care for them as they deserve, you are breeding your children for war like bantha to slaughter.”

Jango throws the first punch.

Kenobi throws the second.

By the time the fight ends, the room is in ruins, for all that they do not draw blasters or sabers. Kenobi has Jango on his back, straddling his chest with knees on his wrists, a vibroblade to his neck. Kenobi’s lip is bleeding, and Jango thinks he might have caused a hairline fracture in the cheekbone. Both of them have at least one broken rib, and Jango’s currently blind in one eye from the blood pouring out of a cut on his forehead.

Kenobi’s a good fighter. If it weren’t for everything else, Jango might have even been able to appreciate that.

“You,” Kenobi growls, fisting one hand into Jango’s curls and yanking for emphasis, earning himself a snarl in return. “Are going to fix this mess you’ve helped create. If I have to drag the entire Jedi council, the entire senate, if I have to drag in all of Mandalore to make you fix this, I will.”

There’s determination in those words, angry and a little spiteful, but mostly just... disappointed.

“Of course I’m disappointed,” Kenobi spits out, like the words are hot coals. He’s expressive. Jango wants to like it, but mostly he just resents the trait. “I hoped to never find a soulmate; it just complicates things. Opsec becomes a nightmare and holding to the code is difficult. And now I have a soulmate, and he’s an absolute monster that views his own children as little more than droids.”

“War is going to come for them no matter what,” Jango manages to say, and Kenobi’s look is back to unimpressed. “Don’t pretend you haven’t heard of the separatists. There’s an army of actual droids, metal and code, just waiting for the right moment to pick a fight. It’s too late to stop it.”

“...you’re not only raising an army of your own children, but engineering the war that’s going to kill them?” Kenobi almost screeches, and the wave of nauseous loathing that slams into Jango is almost enough to make him actually vomit. Kenobi didn’t pull punches, not in the actual fight and not in whatever mental battle they’re apparently having via emotions and words.

“I’m not engineering it,” Jango says. “I’m just one part in a bigger machine. I got my payment. The rest is on Tyranus.”

He doesn’t even stop the images from flickering through his mind, throwing the man who hired him under the speeder.

“Master Dooku?” Kenobi whispers, horror growing. “No, no, I killed the--the Sith can’t--I killed the one on Naboo, and the Council mentioned the Rule of Two, but... oh hells.”

“You know him?” Jango taunts.

“He’s my grandmaster,” Kenobi says, and Jango can’t imagine the rest is meant to reach him, but the undercurrent is there.

Count Dooku is, by Mandalorian law, Kenobi’s grandfather.

Jango... suddenly feels a little regret about the taunting.

“I’d rather you feel regret about your children,” Kenobi snaps at him. “Every single one of them is a person, one that you chose to bring into this world, and they are your children.”

The argument is going in circles, but there are still places to take this.

“Your army is all adults, Kenobi,” Jango decides.

“They are ten years old,” Kenobi retorts. “Accelerated aging, sure, but they are children.”

“They’re soldiers.”

Disgust again, the same thing Kenobi has felt every time Jango has reasserted the purpose these children were born to, the same thing Jango has told his son, his sergeants, himself, for over a decade.

“A son?” Kenobi whispers. “Is your denial that strong, Fett? That you would claim one and not the rest?”

“Payment,” Jango says, and lets Kenobi feel the rest, since he seems so karking keen on it.

“Keeping one child in exchange for letting yourself be the creator of a slave army,” Kenobi says, and he doesn’t seem impressed. “Weren’t you a slave? Two years on a spice ship, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare--”

“And you would put your sons in chains,” Kenobi hisses, hands going for Jango’s head again. It’s a sense memory, this time, of dark tunnels and exploding collars and a dar’jetii that... was his older brother. According to the Jedi way of thinking.

It’s a twisting fear and pain and I will die so that others may live while looking at an older man, a Master, who can maybe save the other slaves at the expense of one too-angry Initiate’s li--

“Get out of my head!” Jango roars, and he still can’t move his arms, and his legs are held down by the Force, but he twists his head to bite and Kenobi snatches his hands away.

Kenobi glares down at him, almost sneering with the amount of disdain he has for Jango’s general existence. “I’m your soulmate, and had we met fifteen years ago, I might have even thought that an alright thing... but whatever you are now isn’t something I can abide by. You won’t listen to morality, so let me say this instead: a Jedi does not kill an unarmed opponent, but I have full authority to arrest you, even here. I will take you back to the Republic, to be tried for your collusion with a Sith, and you will go to prison. You can try to run, but I am in your head, and you’re in mine. Once you’re in prison, what happens to your son?”

The implication is there, but even if it wasn’t, Jango hears the thought:

They’re soulmates. The Republic would place Boba with Kenobi.

He refuses to have his child raised by a holier-than-thou Jedi.

“Holiness doesn’t have any meaning in Jedi philosophy,” Kenobi says, relaxing just the slightest bit. “Other religions, yes, but no place in ours.”

“You’re a self-righteous bastard,” Jango says flatly. “Despite threatening a child.”

“You mean threatening to take custody of a child being raised in an unhealthy environment, one where he’s being taught to devalue his brothers, engendering a mental dissonance where he has to convince himself he’s special for a reason and that you won’t just drop him if he fails to be perfect?” Kenobi asks. “I prefer to keep children with guardians who love them, but the argument that he’s better off away from you isn’t a difficult one.”

“Oh, like a child-stealer--”

“My mother tried to drown me when I was a toddler,” Kenobi says, even flatter than Jango had been a minute earlier. “Because I was Force-Sensitive, and it was considered curse on my home planet. A Jedi saved me. Tell me that was a kidnapping and not being saved.”

Jango grinds his teeth. “You’re damned smug whenever you have some sob story that outranks mine.”

“This isn’t about who has the bigger sob story,” Kenobi says, and Jango can feel how he’s just as ready to start clenching his jaw to deal with Jango’s bullshit. “It’s about you doing your damned job as a Mandalorian and a father, and taking responsibility for your children. All three million of them.”

It really, really is a pity they didn’t meet before Jango took this job. They could have been great together.

As it is, Jango goes for the groin shot the second Kenobi lets him back on his feet.

#Jangobi #kinda #Jango Fett #Obi Wan Kenobi #star wars #kamino #slavery mention #child abuse mention #just the usual clone stuff really #Phoenix Answers Memes #Phoenix Posts #sorry this isn't as shippy as people were probably hoping #mostly it's just Obi-Wan being deeply angry #and Jango being chock-full of denial and cognitive dissonance #500 notes

[ladyrynofsunnydale]

Bo-Katan Week Day 4/ Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: References to Major Character Death, References to Mild Drug Use

Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, Koska Reeves, Boba Fett, Din Djarin, Cara Dune, Moff Gideon (Star Wars), Fennec Shand (mentioned), Ursa Wren (mentioned), Sabine Wren (mentioned), Satine Kryze (mentioned)

Summary: Post-Mandalorian Season 2 Rescue. Bo-Katan isn’t quite sure today could have gone any worse. She had failed to enact her revenge, she was in pain, and honestly, she wanted all these aruetiis off her ship now. And if Din Djarin tried to get her to take the Darksaber one more time, she might just lose it.

Author’s Note: Happy Day 4 of Bo-Katan week! I think this counts as Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss? Anyways, I couldn't stop thinking about how Bo-Katan would have reacted to the finale of the Mandalorian Season 2 so I cranked this out. I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Tags: @bokatanweek 

Click on the link up top to read or continue reading below

Bo-Katan hissed when she settled into the chair in the light cruiser’s medbay. She’d walked there on her own just on sheer force of will and anger, but now that the adrenaline was leaving her body she was left aching and in pain. She wasn’t thirty anymore and she felt those blaster wounds far more than she used to. Could also be due to the fact that she no longer used battle stimulants. While she didn’t miss the not sleeping for days and jittery energy high that accompanied the stims, she did miss the absence of pain.

She pulled out her knife to cut into her flightsuit and barely kept herself from crying out as she pulled it out of the singed flesh on her left thigh. Gritting her teeth, she leaned into her anger to help her through the pain. Anger at allowing herself to be distracted by the Jedi carving a path through the dark troopers. Anger at allowing herself to be thrust back in time into long ago memories, memories of a simpler time when her greatest worry was that her sister was ruining Mandalorian culture while a host of Jedi led a grand petty war at the head of an army of clones. How different things could have been if her sister’s Jedi love had been able to save her. How different things may have been had the Jedi not fallen. Her distraction had allowed karking Gideon to get the jump on her. Again. Six shots, four pinging off her armor and two hitting their mark in her mid and upper left thigh. To compound that, one of the shots had hit her left shin guard and had hyper extended her knee. The pain made her whoozy and she leaned over, holding her still helmeted head in her hands, and willed the world to stop blacking out at the edges and for the contents of her stomach to stay where they were.

She had lost the Darksaber. Her one shot at proving to her people that she was worthy to lead them one more time. Proving to herself that she was worthy to lead them again. That saber had consumed her life for years. She’d accepted it once without winning it, and she couldn’t do that again. Maybe that is why she had lost everything. Why her people had lost everything. She still remembered holding Ursa’s body as she died. Ursa, her oldest friend and confidant. After that, she couldn’t look Sabine in the eye. Not until she had avenged Ursa and her people by taking revenge on Gideon and winning the Darksaber back. And karking Din Djarin had taken that from her.

She pulled out her blasters and fired continuously at a deactivated droid in the corner of the room until it was just a smoking hole in the wall then removed her helmet and launched it across the room, screaming her rage and pain. Standing she limped her way to a cabinet and violently yanked the doors open and riffled through the contents until she’d found cleaning solution, bacta, and an elastic bandage. She sat down again and cleaned the wounds before spreading the bacta on them, grinding her teeth together to work through the pain, then wrapped the elastic bandage around her aching knee to stabilize it. Once her task was accomplished, all her energy left her and she dropped her head back into her hands and stared at the floor. The Darksaber. Din Djarin. Gideon. Sabine. Ursa. Ahsoka. Satine. Fenn Rau. The Darksaber. Her mind spiraled and spiraled until there was a knock at the door. She looked up to see Koska. And Boba Fett. The clone.

“Come to gloat?” she snapped out.

“Thought about it, Princess. But I’m not one to kick someone when they’re down,” he answered.

“Since when?” she snorted. He shrugged. She couldn’t see his face with his helmet on and the voice modulator masked any emotion.

“When the mood strikes me. Here,” he said and tossed her a loaded stimulant gun. She caught it and clenched her teeth together.

“I don’t use these anymore.” Fett crossed his arms over his chest.

“You might want to consider it.”

“I’ll take the pain, thanks.” She tossed it back to him. He shrugged.

“Suit yourself. Fennec and I are leaving. Good luck on your fool’s errand of retaking Mandalore.” Bo ground her teeth together. Staring at Jango Fett’s clone in Mandalorian armor and hearing that voice so easily dismiss her home planet made her blood boil. That voice that she had owed so much to when they’d helped her reclaim Mandalore, and then the voice that had just as quickly turned on them to claim Mandalore for the Empire. She’d hated the clones. Hated that they were based off a Mandalorian’s DNA and had gone against everything a Mandalorian stood for. They had no honor. They had gunned down her people, adults and children alike, to force the planet into submission. Even Ursa had submitted.

However, she could use Fett and Fennec’s skills. They were both true and formidable warriors. But Fett didn’t believe in her cause, didn’t believe in her, and how could she blame him? She couldn’t even reclaim the Darksaber and was just shot by the man who’d taken it from her. And where Fett went, Fennec went.

“Try not to get yourself killed,” she snarked.

“You too, Princess,” he answered back, and she was surprised to hear a note of sincerity. He then turned and was gone. Koska leaned up against the doorframe and she could feel her eyes on her as she pushed herself up to standing and tested her left leg. It held. Thank the gods. She limped her way to her helmet and picked it up.

“You alright, boss?” Koska asked. Bo had known Koska since she was ten. Her Aunt had been one of her most loyal Nite Owls, and after watching her parents get gunned down by clones she’d enthusiastically volunteered when she’d come of age. She’d quickly become one of her most trusted people, especially as the commandos around her had dwindled, and she was happy to have her by her side now. And proud of the woman and warrior she had become.

“Just fine, Reeves.” She turned around and saw Koska staring at her. She softened just a bit. “I’m alright. Just not as young as I used to be.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Koska said, smirking, coming into step beside her while she limped out the door and back towards the command bridge.

She prepared herself to once again be among the remaining people there. Din Djarin, the New Republic drop trooper, and Gideon. As she’d suspected, Fett and Fennec were already gone, and the trooper was speaking with somebody on the comms.

“I want both of you off this ship,” Bo snapped, limping into the room. Everyone turned their eyes to her, and she could see Gideon once again smirking. The Darksaber was just lying there on one of the control consoles. Breathe, Bo-Katan, breathe, she told herself.

“The Republic will meet us…” the trooper said and Bo cut her off.

“I’m not rendezvousing with any New Republic fleet. You can take Gideon and the shuttle and get off my ship.”

“You didn’t take this ship all by yourself,” the trooper said, narrowing her eyes.

“Get. Off. My. Ship.” Bo stalked towards her and loosened her blasters in their holsters. She saw the dropper’s eyes flick to her repeating rifle then back to Bo, and Koska stepped up beside her. Their stare off was finally interrupted by a voice from the console.

“Dune? Dune, do you read me?” The trooper, Dune, broke her gaze and stared down at the console and pressed a button.

“I read you. Slight change of plan. Send me your coordinates and I’ll meet you with the prisoner.”

There was silence for a while, then finally a response.

“Protocol dictates…”

Bo limped over and slammed her hand down on the button.

“I don’t give a damn what protocol dictates. If you want Gideon alive and not a smoking corpse, you will transmit your coordinates to Trooper Dune so they can get the hell off my ship.”

Silence again.

“Who is this?”

“I am Bo-Katan of Mandalore. I am taking over command of this ship as recompense for what the Empire did to my people.”

They didn’t respond for a few minutes. She was sure they were looking her up, and she figured she knew what they’d find.

“Lady Kryze,” the voice came back, and she wasn’t surprised. “As former regent…”

“Transmit the fucking coordinates,” Bo-Katan interrupted.

Silence.

“Transmitting now,” the voice finally said. Dune downloaded the coordinates onto a disk.

“We’ll meet you there,” she said into the console and took a step back. “Well, it’s been a pleasure,” she said sarcastically and Bo ignored her and walked further into the bridge. “Din, what’s your plan?” Bo turned to see his response. He was just sitting there, where she’d left him however long ago, his helmet on the console beside him and his head in his hands, staring at the ground. As much as she wanted to hate him, she couldn’t. She pitied him. She knew it had not been easy for him to hear what she’d had to say on Trask. Having grown up in a cult herself, she knew how it took over your persona. Djarin had forsaken everything he’d known for the foundling, and then had lost him. Just like she’d lost Satine. And Ursa. And her planet.

Djarin looked up. His eyes were red, and he seemed to be unused to focusing on people with his bare eyes.

“I…” he started, his voice rough, and cleared his throat. He looked between Bo, Koska, and Dune, then stared straight at Bo, then to the Darksaber, then back. “Please take it,” he pleaded. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. He dropped his head and stared at the ground again, a defeated man. He took a shuddering breath then looked up again. “I’ll come with you, Bo-Katan.” She nodded then turned to Dune and raised her eyebrow. 

“Very well,” Dune sighed, and walked over to Djarin and he stood and they clasped arms. “Good luck. You know where to find me.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

Dune turned and pulled Gideon up and dragged him towards the door.

“Let’s go, asshole.”

And then they were gone. A short time later she heard the beep that signaled a ship leaving the hanger and she watched the shuttle move away then jump to hyperspace. Djarin finally broke the silence.

“What’s the plan now?”

Without turning around from the vast expanse of space, Bo answered.

“We take back our planet.”

#bo katan week #bo katan kryze #din djarin #koska reeves #cara dune #moff gideon #boba fett #darksaber #post rescue

[callmekaza]

Bobadin maybe?

I think their relationship is interesting either inside the show or from the POV of the real world. Though I find more similarity between Din and Jango’s background, Boba’s going to make the contrast more complicated. Hope they get more exploration in season 3

I am not going to lie but I don’t really want Din to get a romance in the Mandalorian but I would def not mind if he got a boyfriend (I would even encourage it compared to a straight romance bc of the SPICE). 

And if that boyfriend is Boba freaking Fett??? Count me in. I definitely see the comparisons between Jango and Din (hello Boba’s daddy issues)

1. Both were Foundlings

2. Both were/are Mand’alor

3. Both were bounty hunters

4. Both love their sons

5. Both had trauma 

6. Both were/are single fathers

7. (I love them very much)

Honestly I just love this ship so much since it is the opposite ship of Kesett (I love that one too since I am a BIG multishipper)

ANYWAY Bobadin is a ship that explores mandalorian culture while being full of bantering, angst, and love. Exploring Boba’s family tree (Jaster would have loved Din bc we all love Din), helping build Mandalore together, but also giving Din time to pull himself together on Tatooine (Boba would def take care of him bc SOMEBODY has to and he doesn’t like Kryze anyway so of course he would hide Din from her, it’s a win/win).

Boba seems to be a take charge kind of guy which Din seems to need sometimes (poor man is sometimes so clueless and just wants/needs help) while Din is def a softy that could gentle Boba a bit (also Din is hella smart which I can see Boba seem to like in his partners) 

#mine #I def rambled #im so sorry #mandalorian #bobadin #send in ships #kaz asks #probably should say if its platonic i love that sh*t too #bc found family #IS THE WAY #jango fett #din djarin #boba fett #jaster mereel

[sheresh0y]

Sen'tra

A/N: Directly inspired by this post I made a bit ago. If anyone has written something similar let me know so I can credit, I didn't find anything in an initial search but please, please let me know if I missed anyone.

Warnings: None, a bit bittersweet but mostly fluff.

Word Count: 661

Translations:

Sen'tra: Jetpack

Buir: Parent, Father, Mother

Ad: Son, Daughter, Child

Alor: Leader, Captain

....

“Buir! Buir, we’re gonna crash!”

“You wouldn’t crash if you told me where you wanted to go, Boba,” Jango laughed as he ran his son through the halls of their home, bouncing Boba who sat on top of his shoulders. “Buir, I did! I said to go left and you didn’t do anything!” Boba squealed, desperately pulling Jango’s hair. Jango skidded to a stop in front of the wall of windows that made up their apartment on Kamino, looking at his son in the reflection of the glass.

“Boba, you have to learn how to speak to the jetpack. How are you going to complete Rising Phoenix if you just yell at it all the time? It can’t hear you,” making eye contact with Boba in the glass Jango cracked a smile.

Boba’s face split open in a grin, understanding the game they were playing and that his buir wasn’t actually mad with him before Boba tried his best to school a straight face, “Okay. I’ll get it, Buir. I promise.”

....

Today was a good day, the best day. Buir was coming home from a hunt and they promised to show Din some maneuvers, he really wanted to do his best and he knew that training with Buir would put him over the edge with the other foundlings.

Din kept his head on a swivel that day, trying to find his buir before they could get dragged into something else. After noon-meal he finally found them, or rather they found him, still in the commissary, “You ready to go, ad? I promised to show you Rising Phoenix today and a Mandalorian never breaks a promise.”

Din couldn’t remember the last time he laughed as hard as he did with Buir. They were being silly on purpose, he could tell. Overcorrecting and spinning them too many times, one of their hands gripping the back of Din’s belt, the other holding his chest as a counterbalance.

“You know, Rising Phoenix is a very serious thing. You have to respect the pack for it to respect you back. You don’t need to be thrown off course,” Buir suddenly spun them right, then left, then right again, both of them out of breath and giggling. “See? It’s too easy to crash if you don’t know what you’re doing, ad.”

....

The Kid’s newest fascination was going to kill Mando one day. Probably today if he wasn’t careful. After receiving the jetpack from the alor, Mando quickly realized the Kid loved flying and after a very tense moment when he almost set off whistling birds in the cockpit instead of trying to engage the jetpack, both things the womprat didn’t need to be setting off, he did something he hadn’t in too long. He thought about his Buir.

Racking his brain for things that they probably did with him when he was being a nuisance and not realizing it, he finally thought of something the Kid might like.

Scooping him up from the pram and making their way to the belly of the Crest, Mando put his hands under the Kid’s arms and started rocking him side to side, “The secret is that the pack knows. It knows what you want to do before you do it, so you gotta time it right, you know? Make sure body and mind are connected,” Mando told the womprat, trying his best to make the instructions make sense to a baby.

He veered slightly right when the kid tapped his hands, causing him to squeal in delight. “See? Just like that, kid,” twisting, swinging, and pulling the kid wherever he wanted to go.

Switching it up a little, instead of going side to side, he brought the kid down low to his waist and shot him straight above his head. The shriek of delight was enough to get Mando to chuckle. He always knew it was going to be a good day whenever they got to practice for Rising Phoenix.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #boba fett #jango fett #mandalorian fluff #grogu #the child #let mandos be parents #*grabby hands* give it to me