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tommyarashikage · 1 year

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OC Interview

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @natesofrellis @adelaidedrubman @thomrainer @hoesephseed @sstewyhosseini and @echo3-1 to interview one of my ocs and of course I'm following their format and turn it into a literal interview, thank you beloveds! 🤍

sending out no pressure tags; @risingsh0t @indorilnerevarine @josephslittledeputy @aceghosts @confidentandgood @purplehairsecretlair @roofgeese @jacobseed @noetikat @strangefable @shadowglens @leviiackrman @ghastlyrider @jackiesarch @shellibisshe and you!

I was thinking about who to choose and decided to go for Paz because Laurie's interview would've been very depressing lol and I wanted something a little more lighthearted!

"What's so important that it can't wait for a few minutes?", Paz asks the boy who's holding onto her hand and dragging her after him.

"You'll see."

As they reach the kitchen, she spots Simon and Luke sitting at the dinner table. Pedro pulls her to the other side of it and urges her to sit. While she does as she's told, he sprints back and sits down next to his father.

Paz folds her hands as she lays them on the table and raises her eyebrows at Simon. He sighs.

"You have to answer some questions for us", Luke says.

Paz chuckles, "Is this an interrogation?"

"Almost. An interview!", Pedro says.

"Wait, I remember Laura wanted to ask me some questions."

"We asked aunt Laura if we can do that. She loved the idea so she said yes."

"How kind of her", Simon says.

Clearly, he seems very enthusiastic about it. The boys notice and tug on his sleeves, silently asking him to start already. "Alright"

Name?

PAZ: Starting with the hard questions, huh? What am I supposed to say? The name I go by is Paz Acosta. But my birth name is Paz Vázquez. However, since we're married my actual name is Paz Riley, but that's confidential.

SIMON: Just like Diego's last name, so there's only one option left.

PAZ: [pauses] Right. Paz Acosta then.

Are you single?

SIMON: No. Next question.

PAZ: [bites her lip to keep herself from smiling]

Are you happy?

PEDRO: Yes, duh.

PAZ: Hey, I thought you were interviewing me? How would you even know that?

LUKE: You're always happy!

PEDRO: Yeah, uncle König told us how you're always smiling when you work with him and aunt Laura. He calls you two, uhh Honigkuchenpferde**. [laughs] (**a funny/silly word to call a person who is constantly smiling)

PAZ: Really? Hm.

SIMON: Your answer?

PAZ: The boys know me too well. Of course I am.

Are you angry?

PAZ: [pauses to think for a moment] I was gonna say I had enough anger in my life, so no. But now... König is lucky he isn't here right now. Might have to pay him a visit later on.

SIMON: Tell me when you're leaving, I don't want to miss that.

Are your parents still married?

PAZ: [pauses] They still are, yes. Not even death was able to do them part.

Birth place?

PAZ: Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Hair color?

PAZ: Do I need to answer this? Isn't it obvious?

SIMON: You just complained about us answering your questions for you.

PAZ: Fine. Dark Brown.

Eye color?

PAZ: Green.

Birthday?

PAZ: November 1st, 1995.

Mood?

PAZ: A little tired still. And hungry. We could've done this after breakfast.

LUKE: No, this is really important. We need your answers now.

Gender?

PAZ: Female. Ah yes, very important questions.

LUKE: Wait for them, the next questions will be fun.

Summer or winter?

PAZ: Winter. I prefer the cold over the heat.

SIMON: That's why I always have to give you my jacket?

PAZ: Hey, I said I like the cold not being cold. The fresh and cool air is just a lot more pleasant. And of course there's also snow! It's pretty!

PEDRO: Snowball fights! And building snowmen that look like dad!

SIMON: That one looked nothing like me.

PAZ: It had the same emotionless expression as you. Dead, cold eyes. Mouth turned into a frown. An icy nature.

SIMON: We're getting off-topic here.

Morning or afternoon?

PAZ: Afternoon. We do get up early, but I'm more of a night person. Both working and relaxing come easier during that time of the day.

=EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE=

PAZ: An interesting turn of events. What kind of interview is this?

PEDRO: You wanted more interesting questions. So let's go.

Are you in love?

PAZ: [laughs dryly] Take a wild guess.

Do you believe in love at first sight?

PAZ: Not for myself, but perhaps for others?

LUKE: You and dad didn't fall in love at first sight?

[Paz and Simon awkwardly look at each other]

PAZ: Next question.

Who ended your last relationship?

PAZ: Well, since your dad was and still is the first partner I ever had, no one.

Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

PAZ: [smiles] There have been no complaints as of yet.

SIMON: You're very confident with that answer.

PAZ: [smile drops] Have I?

SIMON: Remember when you first declined my proposal and disappeared for weeks afterwards?

PAZ: You've never mentioned that before. [pauses] That broke your heart?

[everyone looks at Simon]

SIMON: Next question.

Are you afraid of commitments?

PAZ: Definitely not.

PEDRO: Dad just said you didn't want to marry him. Isn't that a commitment?

LUKE: And then you ran away. That means you were scared?

PAZ: Alright, I was afraid of commitment. [takes Simon's hand in hers] But your dad showed me I didn't have to be.

Have you hugged someone within the last week?

PAZ: I do so every day, actually.

Have you ever had a secret admirer?

PAZ: I don't think so.

PEDRO: Uncle John said-

SIMON: Your mother is supposed to answer this, not uncle John.

[Paz tilts her head in confusion]

Have you ever broken your own heart?

PAZ: [pauses] Next question, please.

=SIX CHOICES= Love or... lust the other thing?

PAZ: [laughs] What?

SIMON: [pauses] Desiring something.

PAZ: Oh. Uhm, love. But I'd say you don't necessarily have to choose when you're in love.

SIMON: Hm, no protest from me.

Lemonade or iced tea?

PAZ: Lemonade.

Cats or dogs?

PAZ: Dogs. Couldn't imagine a life without Riley. Or his energy.

A few best friends or many regular friends?

PAZ: A mix? I'm friends with quite a few colleagues. They aren't too many though. And I have a few best friends like Laura, Gaz, and John. I couldn't go without either, so both I guess.

Wild night out or romantic night in?

PAZ: Night in! It's a lot more comfortable at home. Night outs can be fun, but most of the time they're quite exhausting.

Day or night?

PAZ: Night! What can I say, I'm a night owl, ha.

[no one laughs]

SIMON: Never heard that one before.

=FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS= Been caught sneaking out?

PAZ: No. I'm quiet as an owl. No one will ever hear me coming. Or leaving for that matter.

SIMON: It's 'quiet as a mouse'.

PAZ: Yes, I know. But my sign is the snowy owl, not a mouse, Simon. Have you ever heard an owl during flight? No, because owls move around quietly, too. You'd know that if you let me have one.

SIMON: Are you done?

PAZ: You're an unfun man. [silence] Now I'm done.

Fallen down/up the stairs?

PAZ: No.

Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt?

PAZ: Yes, and it still hurts.

Wanted to disappear?

PAZ: Well-

PEDRO: When dad wanted to marry you?

PAZ: Why did you have to bring that up? You know they'll never let me forget that.

SIMON: Hm, good.

=FOUR PREFERENCES= Smile or eyes?

PAZ: [smiles] Eyes.

Shorter or taller?

PAZ: Taller.

Intelligence or attraction?

PAZ: Intelligence can be attractive.

Hook-up going out with different people or a relationship?

PAZ: Definitely relationship.

=FAMILY= Do you and your family get along?

LUKE: We do!

PAZ: That I can agree with. I only wish I got to know the rest of my family, too.

LUKE: Tío** Raúl said the others would like us. (**Uncle)

PAZ: [smiles] Of course they would.

Would you say you have a “messed up life”?

PAZ: It was more than just "messed up". But that's over now. [bites her lip]

Have you ever run away from home?

PAZ: Does my escape from the lab count?

SIMON: That wasn't your home.

PAZ: Hm. Then my answer is no.

Have you ever gotten kicked out?

PAZ: No, I'm well-behaved.

[Simon snorts]

PEDRO: What did you do?

SIMON: Next question.

=FRIENDS= Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

PAZ: I wouldn't be friends with them if I hated them. So obviously no.

Do you consider all of your friends good friends?

PAZ: I guess so? Again, they wouldn't be my friends otherwise.

Who is your best friend?

PAZ: Laura and Gaz. I'm not choosing.

Who knows everything about you?

PAZ: A certain man that goes by the name of "Ghost".

#oc: paz acosta #tag game #haha this is definitely not extremely long :)))#and it also didn't take me hours to write this down either

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ratmor · 8 months

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Wolves of Greed IX. Truths and Lies of Owen Sinclair

"You've got it wrong, Suni." it was a woman's voice, unfamiliar and pleasant. "Really? How then?" the voice was soft, it was clear that he was talking to someone for whom he feels tenderness and affection, perhaps even love. Betrayer called a wolf, who accompanies purification seeking priest to the warding woods. Another is Hatred, He, who is the Famed Wolf's son, Sows derision in the presence of The pure bride in the sky. "Now remember, dear?" her voice was filled with answering tenderness and warmth. "A prophecy for the future of our family? What does it mean?" "This is a prophecy for all of us. If I knew how to avoid it, I wouldn't try to pass it on to others, and woud've done something myself. You know me." "Ragna, the prophecy doesn't apply to our child, does it?" "No, Suni." "Then let's worry about it later. You're going to be a wonderful mother."

The conversation in the darkness was interrupted again by the appearance of other sounds and smells, although for some reason Enid continued to feel the emotions of this Suni, the desire to protect, love and tenderness, which she had never felt before. The roasting meat once again pushed Enid out of the dream, and this time she was greeted by the undoubtedly most expected, and most importantly, causing undoubted relief, worried face of Uncle Owen.

Enid felt the tension drain away. Visibly staggering, she got up from the floor and rushed to hug him. But Owen ruined everything when she stopped squeezing him in her arms and pulled away.

"I'm sorry, Enid, I didn't realize everything was that bad here!"

He was holding Enid by the elbows, because she was shaking, but what he said made her throw away his palms and recoil.

"You knew?! Did you know where you were sending me?!"

"I knew that there were certain kinds of problems here, but I didn't even think that I would stumble upon this leftover..."

Owen scratched the back of his head with a familiar gesture, he clearly felt uncomfortable, but...

"What the hell?!"

"One of the traces of smuggling operation of mythical creatures led here, my partner interrogated the man who locked you up, and we have more leads now. Everything is settled!" Uncle blurted out, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"This does not negate that..."

Enid was wound up, and how could she not be. From such stupidity, you'd not just want to growl at, you'd probably want to murder someone.

"Enid!" Peter's voice was even more emotional than before, and he practically ran into the room.

Both Sinclairs turned their heads toward the door.

"Mr. Aras and Mr. Owen came by half an hour later. It turned out that they suspected something was wrong..."

"Paz," Owen nodded to a dark-skinned man in a floor-length raincoat and sunglasses. "Is everything settled?"

"And they work for the FBI, ain't that cool?"

"Peter?"

"Yes?"

"I'll meet you at Nevermore, okay?" I'm not in the mood for... all this."

"Uh-m-m... You're absolutely sure you want to be... uh, to be friends with me?" Peter hesitated, losing his enthusiasm. "I am, well, boring?"

"Are you asking or claiming?" Owen interjected and grinned. "Boy, be so kind, don't talk much about what happened here. Would you?"

His eyes flashed scarlet.

Peter turned pale and nodded very quickly.

"You and her," the boy nodded at Enid, "totally have a family resemblance when you try to threaten."

"Well," Owen snorted and stepped closer. "Come on, kid, I'm ordering you not to tell anyone except those who are already here about this whole situation. So it will be easier for you, and for me to fill out lesser amount of papers. Paz?"

"Hmm?" The silent man pulled his raincoat closer and shrugged. "Hmm."

"Well, good talk. And you..." He turned to the still very much irritated Enid. "We're going to my house. Paz, you can go rest. The mission is over."

Paz shrugged again, reached for the light switch. He left only the desk lamp on. Owen rolled his eyes at this, and the teenagers looked at each other, not without fright. As soon as the shadow appeared in a room, not as brightly lit as before, the man disappeared into it, and not just became invisible, but actually dissolved. It was clear to the werewolves right away - the smell, the sound, everything wasn't there.

Owen flipped the switch and muttered to himself, but of course Enid heard.

"What a drama aficionado..."

"Owen..." She rubbed the bridge of her nose tiredly and grimaced at the pain in her stomach. "I'm not very well, and yours... your actions..."

"I'm sorry," the man shrugged and scratched his head again. "I can try to make you feel better by the fact that we got some distant relatives incoming, extremely fun kids, one even your age. They will be visiting..."

"Not interested," Enid growled. "Don't try to change the subject."

"Well, not in front of him, right?" Owen nodded at Peter, and Enid also looked at him.

"Agreed," Sinclair somehow deflated and continued pinching the bridge of her nose.

The man sighed and jerked his head towards the exit.

"The camp continues its work, boy. You'll be contacted later to testify, but for now, go rest. The director was not aware, Paz checked."

"And who is this... Mr. Aras?" Peter asked with evident curiosity. "He's simply... odd."

"He's... an immigrant," Owen shrugged and turned to Enid, clearly considering his answer completed, ergo generating even more questions. "Let's go get your stuff. I've arranged it. You'll spend the rest of the summer with me."

"And if I don't..."

"We'll discuss it in the car," Owen interrupted, pointedly glancing at the boy.

"All right," Enid surrendered, and followed Owen.

"Wait for me!" Peter caught up with them a few steps later and asked, "Enid, are you sure you're going to be friends with me in Nevermore? I don't have any friends, so I would like to make sure we meet in advance, well, and..."

There was an awkward pause, which Enid's tiredness and Peter's finished charge of enthusiasm did not allow to fill.

"There's a statue of Edgar Allan Poe," Owen shared. "The one with the book and the raven. My wife studied there, why are you looking like that! She says it's a good meeting place. Well, or the crypt of some psychopath. But this is more the thing for my wife, the graves, the crypts... Ugh."

"It sounds like your wife is an Addams, not a werewolf," Peter chuckled, but when there was no answering laughter, he stopped and even quit walking. "You're... an Alpha, aren't you?"

"Well?" Owen asked lazily and stopped. "What does this have to do with my wife?"

"Peter," Enid folded her arms and leaned forward. "Do you think that werewolves become spouses only with werewolves? If you remember, our stupid captor decided to give me a ticket to the past."

"What do you mean, Enid?" Owen frowned.

"We'll discuss it in the car," she mimicked Owen irritably. "So," Enid continued, looking closely at the nervous boy. "What I heard was a conversation between two spouses. One is a werewolf, the other is his wife, according to the modern classification, a psychic oracle. She said something about a traitor who leads a priest into a protected forest, and about a hater who sows discord, as I far as I understood. Is the message clear?"

"Clear," Peter nodded and sniffed. "Near the Poe's statue?"

"Near the Poe's statue," Enid hastened to agree.

"But wash your hair first, kid," Owen added, and when Enid nudged him in the side, he shrugged and muttered. "I know you'd like to say that too! His hair's oily!"

"Don't pretend that you don't know how to lie when it's convenient for you, Uncle!"

Owen Sinclair shut up after it, and the rest of the time before arriving home - which was three to four hours - they spent in relative silence.

Enid kept thinking that she didn't know her uncle at all and couldn't understand his motives. It was the first time that mortal danger had touched her life so closely. And it seemed as if her unconditional trust in Uncle Owen was partly to blame for that.

Owen kept thinking about how he would have to explain his wife that Enid did not want to reveal herself to the family once again and even hear about the move. And how the wife will react to the girl's wounds. Though, as that nervous boy correctly noted, such things are not very significant for the Addamses.

Especially if no one has died, and especially, if no one has died irrevocably.

#fanfiction #wednesday #enid sinclair #wolves of greed #wednesday addams #wenclair

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burnwater13 · 11 months

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Grogu really wondered at times what the various designers of Mandalorian armor had been thinking when they came up with their designs. Koska Reeves helmet was a perfect example. Those cheek carve outs looked serious, but what the heck were they for? Grogu had no idea.

He already knew that no Mandalorian really cared what the ‘eye’ pieces looked like. They didn’t really look out of them. They looked at a screen that showed them what was there. There were cameras and sensors built into the helmet that provided the images they saw. When Grogu asked his dad what happened when those screens shorted out or the helmet took a lot of damage, Din had said there was a good chance that the affected Mando was already gone or would be shortly. Uff. Grogu had not wanted to hear that.

He had imagined that it was like during lightsaber training at the Jedi Temple and you just found yourself in the dark. Of course, a Jedi was being taught to reach out to the Force and trust in that connection. A Mandalorian didn’t have that to help them which is why they used beskar helmets to being with. If a beskar helmet couldn’t handle the problem and you didn’t have any bacta or Jedi handy then you were definitely in trouble.

Which is why he wondered why the design of the armor didn’t account for that? First, they could have put little bacta capsules in the helmets to help cure head injuries as quickly as possible without having to take the helmet off. Right?

Or they could have made the helmet more like a big bubble that deflected strikes from anything and provide isolation and cushioning from concussion and other forces. Of course, it couldn’t really stop the Force form working on it, but, if it was properly grounded, etc. it could prevent electrostatic shock from having any affect at all.

And why didn’t they harden their circuitry against electro-magnetic pulses? Grogu had asked Din Djarin about that when he was complaining about the Jawas on Arvala-7. Din had shrugged and commented that his other armor had been pretty old. As a foundling, he didn’t have armor from his grand dad or uncle, or anyone else to inherit and use. He just had the pieces he’d been given or found.

Grogu thought that was a problem as well. You should get your armor and be sent out in it unless it was complete and fully functional. And that was another problem with the designs in use. They were so specific to an individual, you could exchange pieces without an armorer making the necessary modifications. Grogu only knew one armorer and she seemed pretty busy. How would you get the work done if she was doing other stuff all the time?

The armor pieces needed to be easier to interchange. More modular and uniform… like stormtrooper armor. Uh, but not made out of plastic of course. Grogu was pretty sure that stormtroopers gave up a lot of mobility for nominal improvement in survival rates. Since the Jedi didn’t bother with armor at all, he was pretty sure that mobility had been an important factor in their choice to not wear it. Well, that and having the ability to use the Force. That had certainly evened the playing field for a long time.

But back to Mandalorian armor. Grogu wondered why many of the Mandos he met didn’t have plates and pieces protecting their legs, their behinds, and their necks. Sure, a fire proof cape was pretty cool and made a nice blanket in a pinch, but if you got a vibro blade at that point between he helmet and the cuirass, a Mando was pretty helpless. Even a huge Mando like Paz Vizsla. It was clearly a design flaw.

Grogu decided that the best thing to do was to draw a picture of what he thought the ideal Mandalorian armor looked like. Then he would be able to show it to his dad and Din Djarin could bring it to the Armorer. Then the next time they managed to bring her a bunch of beskar, she could start making his dad better armor.

Grogu worked on the design until lunch time when he dad asked him what he was doing. Grogu handed Din Djarin the design and waited for the praise to follow. His dad loved his drawings as a rule.

“Grogu, I don’t understand. Is this a Hutt?”

What! A Hutt? Of course not! Grogu shook his head and pointed to the legend he had created to show what materials the armor would be made from.

His dad looked back at the picture and laughed.

“You want armor that looks like a Hutt? Buddy, that’s very, uh, creative, but I think the Armorer knows what she’s doing.”

Womp rats! Mandalorians were just too tied to the past. When he designed the suit, Grogu thought of important advice from Master Kenobi.

“Armor and weapons are unnecessary if you are at peace. Be peaceful.”

Who looked more peaceful than Hutts?

Unless, you considered Ewoks… Grogu took his picture back and started a new design.

Maybe Din Djarin would like this one better. He couldn’t claim it didn’t look more Mandalorian, given the armor that the Armorer wore.

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin

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dumbass-tumbler-cryptid · 1 year

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I think they meant age regression instead of age-play in your recent post. Yes, in my opinion age-play is too far with these characters but if its two consenting adults than by all means do what makes you happy. I myself did get confused in some of the paragraphs and how it was played out but now I fully understand. If it was just father and son in an age regression (non-sexual) relationship than I'm okay with it. In my opinion I can see Spider and Quaritch in an age regression relationship where Quaritch gives his son a chance to relive his childhood of his father absence and the death of his mother Paz. The poor kid had a rough childhood.

Most people like to view age aggression as just baby bottles, pacifiers, or diapers but it could just be something simple such as nicknames (baby boy like you use) showing affection like cuddling or just feeling protected to heal your inner child. Your story heals mine and I would've love to see Spider with his uncle Lyle and his papa trick or treating together of Cabin in the woods <3

write whatever you want don't write something that makes you uncomfortable. Have a great rest of your day love <3

Again absolutely no hate to the anon from that ask. Like I said due to the recent uptick in Quaritch/Spider fics I'm just being extra defensive of my fic because I know its subject matter is dark and I worry that people might have even darker fantasies related to it. I'm cool as long things are being kept at a purely non sexual level.

I'm glad that ask helped clarify some things and I'm happy you enjoy my story. I hope you also have a great day 💕

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sassygirl579 · 1 year

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#7, 12, 16, and 17 for the writing ask game!!

Thanks for asking--I always enjoy these--and now I see where I can do polls! 😁

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

Since I pretty much just write fanfic, exploring possibilities of characters I love in ways that canon doesn't, or can't--which is tied with figuring out 'aha' moments having to do with those characters!

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

To be able to have more consistent writing focus at normal times of day (instead of late at night), to be able to finish a longfic (again, focus), and to be able to come up with some original material so I can write stuff to be published 😊

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

It seems like I may have used a (clean) fork or spoon at some point when I got pulled away from a book?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

There are a lot of things that are still mysteries--but here are a few things I can share:

-Din and Paz are adopted brothers, and their parents' marriage is the reason why Clan Wren is part of House Vizsla

-Tristan Wren is in the story, but goes by another name for reasons yet to be explained--and it's possible that he's not the only one 😉

-As far as history goes, a lot of it is based off my theories after Mando Season 1. Din was adopted into Paz's family after his birth parents were killed, and they were in actual Death Watch until Pre VIzsla's death (he was their uncle, but they both severely disliked him). After that, they went to Krownest, since their mom came from Clan Wren, and the only people who observed the helmet rule as we see in canon was a special ops group called the Fighting Corps, which Din joined after swearing the Creed at 13. Paz grew up to marry the Armorer, and they have 8 kids who are ridiculously fun to write, and they lived a normal, somewhat helmet-free life until after the Purge, when what became the Tribe adopted the same rule as the Fighting Corps--again for reasons not yet disclosed. Other Mandos, like Sabine and her parents, don't wear theirs all the time, even when they're with the Tribe (which they currently are)

-Din and Cara are in looooove, and admitted it last chapter--and even used a certain M word in regards to their future! 🥰

-Ezra and Sabine have been married for a few months, and he made the decision to swear the Creed a couple months later--so now the Armorer has made him some armor, and is totally cool with him removing his helmet because he's not under the same obligation as those in the Tribe. He also has a jetpack, so he can be a weapon 🤣

-The safe house where the Tribe is currently staying (around 75 of them survived Moff Gideon's attack on Nevarro) is owned by some canon SW siblings and their families--which I just figured out a couple of months ago! This is brand-new information that will be somewhat mentioned in my new chapter, so I'm good with sharing it!

#ask game #the lost get found #caradin #sabezra #paz vizsla x the armorer

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sagedgeek · 3 years

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A Foundling

Part 3 of Whispers of Fate (A Rey Djarin fic)

Summary: The tribe doesn’t agree with Din’s decision. It’s time for him to accept this new responsibility, despite his effort to avoid it.

Rating: Gen (Platonic)

Word Count: 4.9k

Previous Chapter ~ Masterlist ~ Next Chapter

Din rubs his thumb over the smooth surface of the beskar ingot he held in his hand. He stood outside the entrance to the covert, staring at the cloth draped over the entrance as he contemplated whether he should come back another time after Rey had more time to grow used to the others. Then again, she might’ve calmed down soon after he left the day prior.

He's put this off for an entire day already… much longer than he should have. He could be halfway to Arvala by now if he had simply left right after receiving his assignment. But his worry and insecurity had got the best of him and he spent the better part of the day doing menial repairs to his ship and stocking up on rations and other essentials he’s burned through as he continuously fretted over returning to the covert to see how Rey was adjusting. And maybe even perhaps offer a proper fairwell with a promise to return any word he may find about her parents.

Soon after he left, he had regretted not staying a bit longer to help her adjust. It was a startling change in environment for her, being dumped into a maze of dark sewers surrounded by masked faces of unfamiliar characters. He’d been through the same affair when he was brought to the Mandalorians, but there were many there more than willing to care for him and nurture him until he was able to begin his training, and he knows that’s what Rey needed. He never had a proper buir or Mandalorian family of his own, and the closest he had to one was the man who had saved him. He died soon after Din began his training, but the tribe still raised him alongside the other Foundlings, as if he was one of their own.

Times were different now. Foundlings were rare and very special to the tribe, even more so than before. There were many practiced Mandalorian mothers and fathers in the covert that would be more than willing to take in such a promising young child as Rey and be a much better caretaker to her than Din himself. She needed the support and stability that he could never offer her, but still… that didn’t ease the guilt.

This morning is when he had made his decision. He was never one to loiter, and he never dallied when it came to a job, yet this time he felt a pull keeping him grounded on this ashy planet. So, he figured it would be best to make quick work of this and be on his way to rid himself of these distractions. One visit to the armorer and a couple questions of the girl’s wellbeing and that would be all. No strings attached.

He pulls the drapes back and begins his descent to the underground tunnels, and once he’s passed through the first threshold, he’s immediately stopped by a large hand extending from the shadows and landing on his chest. His first instinct is to attack before his opponent can exploit the well-executed surprise, but patience and reason remind him he’s in the covert and there were no enemies down here.

So, he simply raises his hand to clasp down on the gloved wrist on his chest in warning.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” Paz replied with a gruff and irritated tone, as he stepped from the dark shadows. “It will upset the child again.”

Din turns his head to look up at the taller Mandalorian. Paz has been a close companion of his since he was young, and still one of many he considers to be a trusted friend.

“I didn’t come to see her,” he lied.

“You should’ve taken her with you,” Paz snaps right back at him; never one to beat around the bush. “She is a Foundling, and she is scared. She doesn’t trust us. You should’ve stayed at least until she grew comfortable.”

Din grips Paz’s wrist even tighter pulling it away from his chest plate with a scowl. “I have a job. It is not safe for her.”

“She is a fighter,” Paz counters.

Din pushes away from him, moving further through the halls to try and put an end to the discussion. Paz follows him though, continuing with his lecture which Din tries to ignore. “She has tried running three times since you left and fought Gutt and Ovod with a staff she stole from the armory. We had to lock her away with the healer, away from the other children.”

“She will grow used to you all here,” Din replied, “just like she did me.”

“Don’t be so sure of that Djarin. She’s as bull-headed as you. Atin Djarin,” Paz mutters the familiar exclamation under his breath and Din smirks beneath the helmet. Paz was most definitely right, Rey was quite stubborn from what he could tell so far.

Paz followed him to the armorer’s forge, loitering around by the entrance as Din’s new pauldron was crafted out of his newly acquired beskar.

“This is extremely generous,” the armorer states as the molten beskar fits into the mold. “The excess will sponsor many foundlings… including the new adiik you brought to us.”

“That’s good.” He can feel the strong glare of Paz burning into the back of his helmet. “She will make a powerful Mandalorian.”

“That she will,” the armorer agrees.

When the pauldron is finished, she approaches and attaches it to his body stocking. “The little one has caused quite the ruckus down here,” she announces while taking a single step away from him to admire her work.

“So, I’ve been told,” Din stands, turning to retrieve his Amban rifle that he’d propped against the wall when he arrived.

“She has nearly been successful in leaving the covert herself… had she been she would have exposed the location of the tribe.”

Din pauses, back still to her and he turns around slowly.

“Most Foundlings are not so fierce. Where does she come from?”

He turns to her, ignoring the pointed nod of his helmet that Paz directs towards him. “I found her on a backwater skug hole called Jakku. She was a slave scrapper for two years after her parents abandoned her there.”

The armorer nods once and turns back towards the smelter. “She is strong, but she will need proper guidance and training.”

“Yes,” Din agrees. That is exactly why he brought her here.

She turns back to face him, now several feet away and her hands clasped behind her back. “She will not find that here.”

Din takes a startled step towards her. “What do you mean?”

“She does not trust easily, and she will have no trust for us that much is clear. We were not the ones to save her, and she will grow to resent the tribe. Any training we will provide to her as we would a Foundling would prove as a danger to the tribe and the rest of the Foundlings. The anger and desperation I sense in her will only give more strength; a corrupted strength absent of honor or trust. I’ve seen it happen twice before. Neither ended well for Mandalor. and just like them she will grow to hate the Mandalorians for stealing her from her home twice over.”

“Twice?”

“You, Djarin. You were her second home whether you may see it that way or not.”

“She has only known me for a short time. That’s not possible.”

“She was abandoned as a young child Djarin… by parents who may or may not have loved her. Care, stability, and trust has been absent most of her young life, and you were the first to give it to her after many years of imposed independence and suffering. It was inevitable for her to form such a strong attachment. And it is very well that after you left her here, she will never care to trust anyone again. In her eyes, you were as her new father. Another father who abandoned her.”

“I cannot care for a Foundling,” Din reiterates desperately. He cannot care for a Foundling. “It is too dangerous.”

“So, it is your job to protect her.”

“I can’t--”

“You will.” Paz steps in, voice strong and undeterred. “The Foundling has chosen you and it would be dishonorable to decline. This is the way.”

“This is the way,” the armorer speaks in response, and then both turn towards him expectantly.

Din hesitates, feeling a surge of panic overcome him. He had no choice… this was the way. It was only a technicality, but one that left him no choice. And by denying this responsibility, he would in a sense be abandoning his own child, which by extension would be breaking his creed. Dar’manda.

“This is the way.”

The armorer nods. “Good. Now the child has no need to know you did not request this privilege. You will raise her as your own, teach her the ways of Mandalor, and when she comes of age, she will have the choice to vow and accept the creed. Vizla will take you to where she’s being held.”

So, Paz leads Din further into the covert, past several gatherings of his tribe members and to a barred door Din knows to be the infirmary. He’d been a consistent guest to Xiyu during his early days of bounty hunting.

“Was she hurt?” Din asked.

Paz ignores him and lifts the latch of the heavy door to push it open.

“Xiyu, Rey’s buir is here for her. Thank you for watching over her.” Paz tells the tribe healer sitting beside the cot Rey had curled herself up on.

The older Mandalorian stands slowly and she makes her way towards the door with a small nod of her head. “That is good. She was not doing well. She is no longer angry... just sad and tired.” She pauses when she notices Din. “Djarin? You?”

He nods his head. There was no need in denying it anymore.

The older woman looks at him with a nod of approval. “She will do good for you Djarin.” Then she walks away without another word, and Paz makes a gesture for him to enter the room ahead of him.

“Kid,” Din speaks slowly, clearing his throat as he approaches the cot. He felt nervous and frustrated. He had no clue how to care for a child, and absolutely no desire to learn, but now he had to. There were so many things he needed to change and add to the Crest to fit her needs…

She recoils at his voice, pulling her face to her knees and hugging them close. She was still wearing his old tunic and had not changed into the new clothes he bought for her. They sat lying on a platform beside the cot, along with a few added accessories courtesy of the rest of the tribe.

“Rey, it’s time to go.”

She shakes her head stiffly, back still facing the two Mandalorians. “I don’t wanna go anywhere with you,” she bites out with a nasty growl.

“Would you rather stay here then?” Din counters with a scoff.

Din can tell by the squaring of her shoulders that she found herself in a bit of deadlock and she mutters something under her breath which he could barely here.

“Where you gonna drop me off this time, Mando?” She says his name like it’s a curse in her mouth.

“He wants to take you with him,” Paz steps in, approaching the cot and effectively pushing Din out of the way to avoid the tension and anger from progressing any further. Apparently, having two frustrated, stubborn blockheads in the same room would not spawn a peaceful interaction.

Rey turns to look up at Paz, eyes rimmed red and puffy. She doesn’t look at Din. “Why?” She asks him, tears evident in her voice.

“Because you belong with him.” Paz takes her hand gently and helps her sit up on the cot. He’d always been particularly fond of children, ever since their teenage years. He did well with them… unlike Din. “Now let’s get you changed into those new clothes so you can be on your way verd’ika, yeah?”

She nods softly, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand and sniffling lightly. Paz gently lifts her from the cot and into his arms. Rey wraps her arms around his neck and drops her forehead against the large man’s shoulder which has Din scoffing scornfully.

Bantha shit!

Why isn’t Paz the one caring for the child?? He was obviously much better suited for a Foundling.

Paz must sense his glare and he turns towards him with the child in one arm as he scoops up her clothes in the other. He tilts his helmet, lifting the chin just enough so Din won’t mistake it for affection or curiosity, but as the challenge it was.

“Would you prefer to carry her?”

Din frowns. No, he’d rather not.

His fingers twitch and tense as he squeezes them together.

“She’s perfectly capable of walking on her own.”

The statement doesn’t please Paz, that much was clear, as he shoulders past Din and exits the room. He leads them towards a private area and sets Rey down on her feet. He’s squatted in front of her, holding out each item of clothing to her.

“Do you need any help? I can call Xiyu.”

She shook her head and took the clothes from him, retreating into the private room to change.

“She seemed awfully fond of you,” Din muttered once the thick curtain was pulled closed.

Paz turned to look at him. “The last I saw her she nearly tore my helmet after she knocked me on my back. That was the first I’d seen her act civil.”

Rey steps out from behind the curtain, wearing her new clothes. It fit her nicely. She wore a dark grey long tunic that went to midthigh sinched by a nice brown leather belt around her waist which had several accessories for attachments similar to Din’s. Over it she wore sleeveless vest with a high collar. And of course, the tan utility trousers and sturdy leather boots. She came out holding her old clothes to her chest shyly. Her hair was down, no longer in its braid and she looked up at Din with wide eyes and a sad frown.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, standing right in front of him. “I’m sorry I asked so many questions. I won’t anymore. I promise.” She shuffles closer to him, pressing her forehead against the soft padding below his cuirass.

Din sighed in resignation and placed his hand atop her head, gently petting her long brown hair to offer some sort of comfort.

“Don’t apologize for being curious,” he instructs softly.

She steps away from him, staring up into his visor with shiny eyes all the while. Then she turns to look over at Paz. “I’m sorry for being mean to you and everyone else.”

“There’s no need to worry about it verd’ika.” Rey smiles at him, seeming to be much less forlorn than before.

“Come,” Din says, ready to get back to his ship and get on his way. He gestures for Rey to begin walking in front of him, then turns his head to face Paz. “I’ll return soon.”

Rey doesn’t chatter his ear off as they walk back to the Crest. She doesn’t even grab onto his cloak as they march through the busy streets of Nevarro. Even once they’re sailing out the atmosphere and into the empty cavern of space, Rey had yet to express any excitement or curiosity. It was completely silent in the cockpit. She sat quietly in her chair, staring out at the stars without so much a word.

“Kid,” Din starts, unsure of what he even wanted to ask, “Is everything alright?”

He turns his head so he can peek over his shoulder at her, and she only shrugs her shoulders, pulling the blanket bunched in her hands over her nose.

Din spins in his chair to face her and she flinches away from him at the sudden movement.

“Rey.”

She looks at him with big eyes from underneath the hem of her blanket. “I-I…” she starts. “Are you taking me back to Jakku now?”

Din tilts his head at her in confusion. “No. You’re staying with me.”

“But-but I thought—”

Din spins his chair back around. “No, I’m not taking you back there end of story. There’s no one to look out for you there. It isn’t safe.”

There are a couple moments of silence and Din thinks maybe Rey got the point. “I-I didn’t mean I wanted to go back…” she replies, her voice almost a squeak. “I just… I thought your tribe didn’t want to take care of me like you didn’t want to, and you were supposed to take me back.”

Din’s feels a sudden pain strike him in the chest and suddenly breathing made him nauseous. It’d been a while since he was able to actually sympathize with another person. And here Rey was sitting here thinking an entire tribe of people would turn their backs on her and leave her to the fate of the harsh wilderness of Jakku simply because she wasn’t wanted. How despicable the universe must have been to this little one for her to think anyone wouldn’t want her to be happy and safe.

Kriff, the only reason he handed her over the tribe to begin with was to keep her safe because he knew she wouldn’t be with him.

He sighs and slowly spins around once more. “That’s not what’s happening Rey.”

“Well, I sure know you didn’t come back for me! You obviously still don’t want me around!”

Din scowls. “You’re right,” he snaps at her, “I didn’t want you around. It’s dangerous and I don’t want to see you get hurt. That’s why I was taking you to my tribe; where you would have been safe while I looked for your family.” Rey stares at him and doesn’t utter a word to respond, and Din hesitates to continue. “Then they explained to me that you would do best staying with me. They would’ve loved to have you if you wanted to stay. Foundling’s are treasured by our culture; they are our future.”

“Oh.”

Din turns yet again, but Rey still hadn’t returned to her talkative self. Perhaps she was just tired like Xiyu had said. He glances down at the nav system he’d yet to set the coordinates into, then glanced back over his shoulder at Rey still staring out at the stars with a sad frown.

“Rey. Come here.” He gestures his hand to the space between himself and the control panel. “I need help inputting our next coordinates. And then I think it’s time you go down and sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Rey’s at his side in a matter of moments, wiping any lingering moisture in her eyes as she looks down at the display Din was pointing out to her. He guided her through punching in the correct numbers and she did well enough to coax a proud smile onto her face. She turned her grin up to him, looking for his validation and he gave it to her with a small nod of his head and awkward pat on the back.

“Now, go down and rest.”

Rey hesitates, her smile falling into a worried frown.

“You won’t leave me here?” Din doesn’t answer right away. “Right?” She reiterates a bit more desperately.

“No, I won’t leave you on the Crest.”

“Do you promise?” She holds up her hand to him, arching one brow in doubt.

Din stares at her outstretched palm in amusement. “What are you doing?”

Rey looks at him with a scoff. “It’s a handshake, dummy.” Din grunted. “It’s what people do when they agree on stuff,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “But you probably don’t know what that is, ‘cause you just punch ‘em till they do what you want.”

Din sighed to cover an involuntary chuckle and lifted his gloved hand towards her. She grabs it which ends up dwarfing her own as she shakes their joined hands adamantly and with such seriousness it was almost amusing.

Instead of letting go after the shake was finalized, Din gently tightens his grip on her hand and stands from the pilots chair, guiding her towards the ladder leading into the hull. It wasn’t exactly what he had expected of himself when he thought to tell the girl to go to bed, but something urged him to follow her down and make sure she was settled and comfortable in bed.

He begins by straightening out her bed of blankets on the floor which he had put the day prior as she went to the privy. So, it was all ready for her to dive right beneath the collection of blankets by the time she got out.

She’d forgone her new tunic and vest and had instead changed back into the oversized flight suit garb Din had let her borrow on her first night, claiming it was much more comfortable for sleeping. He says nothing more regarding that and drapes the top few blankets over her once she had settled.

“Am I allowed to ask questions?” She asks him meekly, pulling one of the blankets close to her nose as Din made sure she was situated properly and would remain warm throughout the night.

He nods.

“What kind of planet are we going to?”

Din stands and his knees pop slightly after kneeling on the hard floor. “It’s like Jakku, but with rocks.”

“Oh,” Rey nods, rolling onto her side so she could continue to look at him.

“Go to sleep.” He instructs with a tenderness that even surprised himself. “You need rest after such a long day.”

She listens. Smiling up at him just before her eyes slip closed. Her knees draw closer to her chest as she curls around her blankets. And he thinks she might have fallen asleep before he was even able to ascend the ladder.

***

It had taken approximately two and a half days before they landed on Arvala-7.

Din had used that time to clean the ship and do some on board maintenance he hadn’t gotten around to while he was twiddling his thumbs on Nevarro. Rey was a good help, always at his side and eager to aid him with whatever he asked, and apt to listen at whatever knowledge he was willing to bestow on her. She was much more subdued this time around though. She wasn’t nearly as talkative, and refrained from touching him in any way.

He should’ve found relief in her sudden change, but all he felt was guilt. He had broken her trust. The quiet was now almost suffocating in a way he’d never found it before, and it wasn’t like he knew how to fill a void of silence. He was perfectly fine working in silence—awkward or not—but what irked him was knowing the child was upset with him. The child he was supposed to be caring for, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

She would ask a necessary question here and there, but never really stemming from her parched curiosity. And considering the little she knew about the galaxy beyond her small world of Jakku, that could prove to be a hindrance later on if this continued. As his logic dictated, it was good for a child to be curious and question their surroundings. It was how they learned.

However, that was a problem he’d decided was to be tackled another time when he was perhaps a bit more comfortable with this newfound guardianship role. Instead, he’d found that Rey was quite proficient with the mechanics of his ship and was quick to catch on to small things he’d teach her, similar to her “piloting” skills which consisted mainly of fabricated procedures to keep her busy and entertained amongst the unprogrammed buttons and switches beside her seat. Either way, she was good at following instructions, even when he could tell she found some things just a bit ludicrous.

They spent quite a bit of time with each other on the Crest during those two days. It was inevitable considering the cramped quarters. And Din made extra care not to scold or discourage her if it was not necessary which most times it definitely wasn’t.

So, by the time they had landed, it was easy to tell Rey had grown a bit more comfortable with him. She was eager to help him land the ship, and that time he may have given her a few real switches to flip through. As soon as they’d touched down, she bolted down into the hull before everything could even be properly powered down. Din sighed in amusement and went about shutting down the Crest. By the time he’d slowly stepped his way into the hull, Rey was standing over by the loading ramp, dressed in her new clothes, hair done up in a proper braid, and her shoes on and ready to go with her makeshift staff in hand as she bounced on her toes.

“Someone’s eager.” He quipped lightly, tapping on his vambrace to open the weapons cabinet. He pulls out his rifle, tucks it under his arm and makes his way towards her, pushing a button on the control pad to lower the ramp. “Stick close to me. Understand?”

Rey nods emphatically, staring out at the rocky expanse that’s revealed as the ramp lowers to the muddy ground. Din could tell she was tempted to dart ahead of him to explore, but she does as he says and stays by his side as he moves to the middle of the small clearing he’d landed his ship in. He holds the fob outwards to test the signal and drops his arm in agitation as he looks out into the vacant landscape.

He turns towards Rey and holds out the fob towards her. “Your job is to hold this. Don’t lose it.”

She takes it from him, cradling it gently in her hands as she stares down at the blinking light. Din lifts his rifle to peer through the scope and she’s none the wiser as she traces the small box with her finger. Enthralled with the tiny device as it beeps slowly. She looks up just in time to see a big fishy creature charging right at them.

“Mando!” She shouts, startling the Mandalorian from his focus. He tosses her out of the way just as the beast grabs his arm and hauls him back a good ways, tossing him around like a dead womp rat.

Rey looked on horrified, frozen in place. For the first time since she met him, Mando didn’t seem to have the situation under control. It didn’t take but a couple more moments of her silent terror that she was shaking it off and charging the beast. It’d grabbed hold of Mando again after he’d escaped the first time and it didn’t look to be a very fair fight. She leapt onto its back, holding tight as she wails her fists and her staff on the tops and sides of its big head.

She’s bounced around on its back, but is somehow able to hold on for a good while before she goes down. Hard. The beast collapsed sideways, and she had to dive out of the way to avoid being crushed by its weight. Mando’s arm is still stuck in its mouth.

“Rey!” He shouts, waving his hand frantically at her. “Go! Get out of the way!” She turns just in time to see a second creature running at her and she dives forward to try and evade its charge, landing near Mando. He pushes her behind his body as the beast comes up on them acting as a proper shield, but at the last minute it keels over as well, a tingling blue spark spreading over its scaly body.

Rey holds onto his outstretched arm as she peers out from behind his back curiously. “What are those things?”

And then another one shows up, but it was much more subdued. Probably because of the Ugnaught riding on its back. Mando’s arm prevents her from moving out from behind him still as he slowly assessed the man.

“Thank you.”

“You are a bounty hunter.” The small man states in response.

“Yes.” He slowly lowers his arm, apparently assessing he was there to cause no harm and allowing Rey to properly crawl out from behind him.

She locks eyes with the man on top of the creature. He stares at her for a couple moments before speaking again. “I will help you… I have spoken.”

And with that he guided the large beast to turn and walk away.

Rey decided that she liked him, and she jumped to her feet with a smile, ready to follow. She does her best to be polite and help Mando up from the muddy ground also, but she doesn’t think she’s doing much more than offering the pleasantry as the large man takes her hand politely and grunts in his effort to stand up. She puts all her strength into it, her bodyweight too… so she likes to think she at least helped him a little bit.

Either way, she’s pleased he’s alright and trails beside him as they follow the Ugnaught back to his camp.

~ Next Chapter ~

#the mandalorian #fanfiction #rey djarin #din djarin #dad!din #the mandalorian adopts rey #Rey Skywalker #rey of jakku #rey and mando #din is a softie at heart #paz viszla #paz is the cool uncle #the mandalorian fanfiction #platonic fanfiction

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calamity-queen · 3 years

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Y’all why are we calling Boba old 😭😭 Tem might be 59 almost 60 but Boba is like 41 at this point😭😭 he’s probably like 5 years older than Din MAX😭 The Sarlacc Pit and unyeilding Tattoine Suns do not treat people kindly😭😭 like Obi-Wan was 57 when he died n he looked older (to me) (Sir Alec was 63 when potreying old Ben Kenobi in ANH) like YALL PLZ BOBAS NOT A GRANDPA YET HES GROGU’S COOL NEW UNCLE!!! GREEF IS THE GRANDPA😭😭

#shdhdh #enough calling boba grandpa #he is cool uncle fett #greef is grandpa #peli is grandma #armorer is aunt #cara is aunt #fennec is aunt #paz is uncle #cobb is either uncle or dad 2 #and omera is mom #bo-katan and koska are the scary ladies dad talks to

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maybege · 2 years

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Romance in the Dairy Aisle

Summary: You and Paz go to the grocery store. (Part 3 of LPOH)

Pairing: biker!Paz Vizsla x fem!teacher!Reader

Wordcount: 2.6k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, Biker AU, The Williamsdale People are at it

Still on a break so this will be short and sweet. Thank you for your support of this story, it truly means a lot. I hope you will enjoy this part ❤

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Your car became his personal project.

Boba had scoffed when he had seen your small car being pulled into the garage (“Fitting that her car looks as much as a cupcake as she does.”) but Paz had simply ignored the little comments and instead focussed on finding the perfect colour to cover up the little scratches.

Sure, they might not have been caused by your recent accident but he wanted to do something nice. And what was nicer than getting back a perfect car?

Fennec slapped his boss on the shoulder, rolling her eyes in a way that only she could get away with. “At least he still has some hope, huh, old man?”

“Who are you calling old?” Boba laughed before nodding his head to where your teal coloured car was ready to be worked on, “C’mon Paz, I know you can’t wait to get to it, I will take over he Crumplebottom’s van.”

Paz did a double take, not believing his friend’s words, “Are you sure? You might be the only person she hates more than me.”

Boba shrugged, “Either she wants her car fixed or she doesn’t – not my problem who she will have to deal with. Now go and fix your girlfriend’s car.”

“She’s not my –“

“Not yet,” the older man interrupted him with a grin, laughing when Kitten meowed loudly, seemingly agreeing with him.

“Oh, shut up,” Paz muttered under his breath, knowing that Boba only meant well.

Kitten rubbed against his ankles, settling down next to him as he started to get out his tools, his heart pounding in his chest as he thought of you.

Working with his hands – and with cars, specifically – came natural to him, it was as easy as breathing and so rewarding. He had never had the happiest or most conventional of childhoods and he distinctly remembered the first time his uncle had asked him if he wanted to help with his car. He could not have been older than six years old but he when he closed his eyes he could still remember the weight of the screwdriver in his hands and how proud he had been to help the uncle he so adored.

When he had passed, Paz had been sixteen but the love for fixing cars was the gift of a lifetime. Not only did it offer him the chance of working on something and immediately seeing the impact he had made, it also enabled him to just switch off his brain for a minute and just focus on what his hands were doing – so many things where muscle memory by now.

He was checking the engine of your car, hands filthy with oil, when Fennec cleared her throat behind him. “not to interrupt you in your work flow,” the dark haired woman said, “But don’t you want to pick up Grogu today?”

Paz frowned, wiping his forehead with his forearm. Evers since Boba had decided to get out the torch for something, it had gotten continuously warmer and even with the cooling weather outside, it felt like a hundred degrees in the garage. “It can’t be that late –“ he threw a look on the clock, finding himself mistaken.

“Shit, it’s three already,” he cursed, grabbing a rag to roughly clean his fingers, “Can you finish this up for me, Shand? Din’s gonna kill me and –“

“Go on, Vizsla,” she said with a smirk, “Your girlfriend is waiting.”

“Fuck off!” he shouted, earning himself the glare of a soccer mom that had just come into the reception area. Boba only laughed.

When he finally entered the school hallway, his heavy boots echoing all around him, Grogu was already waiting for him in the entrance to his class room. “Uncle Paz, you’re late again,” he chided him, crossing his little arms in front of his chest as he tried his best at a glare that looked so much like Din’s it made him wonder if they were not related after all.

“I know, I’m sorry, buddy,” he said, completely out of breath, running his hand through the boy’s hair before looking up at you, “I was too busy working on your teacher’s car. I will do better next time.”

He turned to you, a little quieter now, “Thank you for waiting, I promise it will not happen again. And your car should be ready soon, too, I was hoping to get it today but, uh, we both know how that went.”

You smiled. He immediately noted the dark red cardigan you were wearing over a grey dress and how the neckline seemed just a little bit lower than what you usually wore. For the briefest of moments, he thought that maybe it was something you did because … maybe you were attracted to him too? But he shook off that thought as quickly as he had had it.

There was no way you were interested in him with his oil stained shirts and fingers and unkempt hair.

“It’s alright, it’d just be nice to go grocery shopping with an actual trunk available,” you joked, crossing your arms over your chest. His eyes darted to your cleavage and he felt bad, immediately looking up to your eyes. “I like the colour,” he mumbled, “of, uh, your cardigan the red … suits you.”

“Thank you,” you bit your lip and fuck he wanted to be the one biting it, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“If – if you need a car to go shopping, I – I could drive you,” he offered lamely, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, feeling strangely shy while Grogu stood between you. Maybe it was because he felt so out of place here in this room bursting of colourful and joyful energy.

Your eyes got big as you straightened your posture, looking almost alarmed, “I didn’t mean for you to think I was asking that –“

He chuckled, shaking his head, “You’re not asking, I’m offering, love,” he bit his tongue at the pet name, hoping that you would not be offended but when your lips only tugged up in a smile, he felt safe enough to continue, “I – I want to help you, I will need drop off Grogu with his dad, it won’t be too much of a detour to get you to the groceries afterwards, if – if you want.”

“That would be lovely, actually,” you replied, motioning to your desk, “I just need a minute to pack up and then we could go?”

“Sounds great,” he grinned, turning to check on the little boy next to him, “Yeah, Grogu?”

His honorary nephew nodded eagerly, his little hands playing with the ornament on his zipper.

You were on your way out when someone called your name at the end of the hallway and you flinched in surprise, turning around to face them. Paz felt your back brush against his chest and smiled at the thought that you seemed to feel comfortable with him.

It was Principal Gideon, dressed in a neat black suit and looking just as devoid of joy as always. “I am sorry to disturb you,” he said, his disapproving stare gliding over Grogu and him before turning to you, “I thought pickup time was already over.”

“I, uh, was informing Mr Vizsla on the way out about the upcoming arts and crafts project Grogu has been working on,” you said, smiling tightly. You were standing so close, your shoulder brushed against his upper arm and Paz glowered at the principal when he saw that he was still not letting you go.

Principal Gideon met his eye, looking down his nose at him and then at Grogu. Paz had had enough.

“Do you need anything?” he asked gruffly, his hand landing on Grogu’s shoulder (the other ever so slightly touching yours but that did not matter now), “Or can we be on our way? It’s getting cold out.”

Gideon frowned, clearly displeased with him but Paz could care less. “Very well then,” he smiled insincerely, “I wish you a good day.”

“To you too, sir,” you said, before quickly turning around and basically hurrying him and Grogu out the door. It seemed he was not the only one who wanted to avoid Gideon’s company.

“Gideon is a meanie,” Grogu said petulantly once they were in the safety of the parking lot and Paz snorted.

“You can’t say that, Grogu,” you said softly beside him but Paz saw the twinkle in your eye that betrayed your true feeling.

“But it’s what my Uncle Boba always says,” the young boy protested, “He said that Gideon is a –“

“C’mon, bud,” Paz grinned, opening the truck door for the child to hop in. He winked at you over the car door, “You can tell the miss all about Uncle Boba on the drive home.”

Driving with Paz and Grogu was the most fun you had all week.

You had feared that maybe Grogu would feel uncomfortable with having a teacher invade his private space. And who could have blamed him? As a child you would have hated to have any of your teachers suddenly sitting in your car. But Grogu was young still and absolute euphoric to tell you all about the infamous Uncle Boba who owned the garage that Paz was working at.

And Uncle Boba seemed to hate Principal Gideon “even more than Uncle Paz!”

You smiled at your student, turning back to face him and seeing Paz’s grin as he continued to drive down the streets to where the Djarin’s were living. He caught your eye, then, and his smile seemed to get just a little bit wider and brighter.

He seemed so genuinely happy, it made your heart ache.

Din Djarin was already waiting on the sidewalk when Paz pulled up in front of the house. Grogu announced that he was “a big boy now, buir” and decided to climb out on his own much to the amusement of all the adults presents.

If he was surprised at seeing you, Din did not show it. Instead he had waved at you both, Grogu’s little backpack in his hands, as Paz pulled out of his driveway.

“So how do you know Gideon?” you asked when you came to a halt at a traffic light.

“Showed up at work one day,” Paz recalled, “Din had just signed Grogu up for school, couldn’t have been more than a week than we lived here. Suddenly he shows up at the garage and insinuates that the boy might not be the right fit for the school … considering the environment his father offered him.”

“The environment?” you echoed incredulously, “I mean I am not surprised but also … how could he say something like that?”

“Right?” Paz asked, shifting gears as the light turned green again, “So you can imagine, everyone was furious – and Boba especially. He’s never been one to mince his words and, uh, none of them were pleasant. Safe to say, the whole neighbourhood felt that their suspicions about us were correct. And they never turned back.”

Made noncommittal sound, starting to feel the rage simmer low in your belly. You knew that Gideon had never been the most professional of principals and his proximity to the Student Parent Association had always caught you a little off guard. But hearing this now – how he so obviously had clear requirements for what background his prospective students (children!) had to have in order to fit into his plan made your blood boil.

“I am so sorry that this happened,” you said, “No child deserves to be treated like this. Gideon should know better.”

Paz shrugged, “I gave up on this man’s conscience a long time ago. The most important thing is that Grogu is happy,” his lips quirked up, “And he seems to have a good time at school, so there’s that.”

The parking lot of the grocery store was full of and you noticed a few familiar eyes n you when you slipped out of the car next to Paz. But you did not mind. Especially not when he walked right next to you, whistling a tune that was unfamiliar to you but that your heart repeated in kind.

Walking past the sliding doors, Paz got you a shopping cart and you started to walk through aisle after aisle, the store music tinkling in the background. Paz was mostly silent, dutifully pushing the cart as you picked up everything you needed. It was a nice silence between you and you allowed yourself a moment to imagine a scenario where this was a part of your life. Going grocery shopping with Paz.

“So … you’ve been living here for long?” you asked him curiously.

“A few years,” he shrugged, stopping when you drifted off to the produce aisle, “When Din and Grogu moved here, we all followed.”

Mrs Crumplebottom passed you and you smiled at her in greeting, your brows knotting in confusion when she … sneered at you?

“What’s her problem?” you asked, surprised by how the usually so forthcoming woman simply passed you without saying a word. Immediately you went back in your head, trying to determine if you’d forgotten an important meeting or not replied to one (of her many) emails. But nothing came up and you felt anxiety creeping up, not liking the feeling of conflict.

“I don’t think her problem is with you,” Paz grumbled, and you saw the grimace he tried to hide from you, “I think her problem is with me.”

“Why?” you asked, suddenly remembering how Din never seemed to be part of any of the parent projects groups, “Do they not like you?”

“I guess you could say that,” he shrugged, motioning with one ring clad hand to his leather jacket, “I think we ruin their little image of the perfectly safe suburban community.”

“But you’re not dangerous,” you protested quietly, watching as his fingers flexed and trying to ignore how their size made you feel. You had never much cared about jewellery on men but seeing the two rings on his fingers had a thigh squeezing effect on you.

“That’s not for me to decide,” he sighed, “They made their mind up on me a long time ago, love, there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the pet name and your fingers fiddled with the plastic wrap on a bag of potatoes. “It’s not fair,” you maintained, “I – I know I haven’t known you for very long but I don’t think the image they have of you is true. You, I mean, I barely know anyone who’d drop everything and help a stranger out. Twice now. That’s kindness.”

He stood there, hands on the shopping cart and looking a little lost. Years’ worth of hurt visible in his eyes as he swallowed harshly. “Thank you,” he mumbled, “I – I really can’t tell you how much that means to me … but let me be clear,” he smiled slightly, “I did it for a friend, not a stranger.”

“Friend,” you repeated slowly, “That sounds nice.”

You both started walking again, thankfully now far away from Mrs Crumplebottom and her disapproving frown.

“So, uh,” Paz started, shifting on his feet as you put the yogurt in the cart, “You, uh, got a boyfriend back home?”

With your back turned to him, you smiled, your heart skipping a beat. “No, I do not and … will there an angry girlfriend calling me to ask why her partner keeps driving me everywhere?”

Paz grinned. “No, no girlfriend,” he replied as your hand brushed unmistakably against his, “not yet.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader

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tkc-info · 2 years

Text

Part 2: Labyrinth Of Days Gone By

Two months have passed since the youngest Hao's kidnapping. Min is now safe in Shanghai, back to her siblings and father. But that hardly means things are looking up for her family.

Xuegang Yang's illness has worsened. Soon, he will live no longer. His life is one his children have heard of, but not it depth. This, however, will have to change. There are many questions the Haos seek, and the answers are hard to come by.

All this is happening while Madeleine Woolaham is adjusting to life in the 21st century. The whole world has changed impossibly while she lay as a statue; many are the customs she needs to adopt, many are the customs she needs to overcome. Many are the ghosts that haunt her.

Because Simone, the Spawn, may be dead. But she's left marks in everyone. In her killer, Coraline Everitt. In Morgan and Hunter Hao.

In Madeleine Woolaham.

Labyrinth Of Days Gone By takes place from chapter 42 to chapter X

CHAPTERS

Prologue

I wish I had no heart; it aches so...

Two months later

Gangkou

Epione

This is how to be a heartbreaker

Struggles of a socially-awkward guy in love

Hilda Twaddle's passing

The experience of Mirror

The experience of Aboveground

Xuegang Yang wasn't dead

Diaries of the wraith pt1: 我爱你妈妈 (I love you Mum)

A new life will blossom today

Quoth the raven "Nevermore"

Scavenger of human sorrow

When spiderwebs unite they can tie up a lion

Heaven gives its favourites-early death

This is the past he wanders

Diaries of the wraith pt2: aftermath of disaster

Second to the right, and straight on till morning

In every walk with nature, one receives more than she seeks

Diaries of the wraith pt3: the forging of something

I am scared; I am in pain

The haunted woman and the wraith's bargain

Nightmares

Lady Everitt's chest of jewellery

Trails from the past

Where did all those years go?

Marriage is indeed a manoeuvring business

Vlad the Impaler's lair

Diaries of the wraith pt4: the first time

The making of a shadow

The murder of Abraham Day

Your words surround her like fog

To the dying man, the daughter becomes the mother

Arrest her for murder

I can't stop remembering

Diaries of the wraith pt5: 我所见之处都让我想起你的爱 (everywhere I look I am reminded of your love)

Captain Hao's scrolls of battle

The ball gown and the engagement band

I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship

Rendezvous in 1997

3'14

Ciudad de la Paz

The emerging woman will be strong

Finally in Shanghai

Meeting his family for the second time

Diaries of the wraith pt6: yeah, sex is cool, but let me tell you something...

A matter of thievery

The emerging woman will have love

A step towards godhood

A map to a map

Love is a great beautifier of life

The Archaic Army entrance exam

Of dungeons and uncles

Drowned among ice and frost

Bliss lasts but a moment

Taken to court

Kháos

Epilogue

#labyrinth of days gone by #the kinship chronicles

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princessbatears · 2 years

Text

Winter Challenge 2021 - Day 17 (Gingerbread)

Pairing: Werewolf Paz Vizsla x Female Reader Summary: You and Paz compete over whose gingerbread cookies are the best POV: Reader Warnings: language Words: 600 A/N: From my The Crash universe

You and Paz glower at each other over the counter. “There’s only one way to settle this,” you say. “Grogu.”

He nods solemnly. “I’ll comm Din to come over.”

As he does so, you begin to knead your gingerbread cookie dough with the heel of your palm. It requires a firm but refined touch that you’ve perfected over the years.

“Din’s on his way with the kid. I’m going to grab my helmet. Do not touch my dough!” He points at his own subpar dough across from yours.

“I don’t need to sabotage your dough,” you sniff, insulted.

He scoffs as he leaves the room.

A short while later, Din and Grogu arrive. “What’s happening, exactly?” Din asks, mildly annoyed.

“What’s happening is Paz and I got into an argument over my gingerbread recipe,” you say, eyes narrowing on your husband. “Apparently, it’s too sweet and bland.”

“It is! Way too much molasses and too little pepper!” Paz interjects.

“It’s a cookie,” you argue, “not a cracker!” You begin to roll the dough balls and place them on the baking pan. “So, I challenged him to contest. Grogu’s going to be our judge.”

Din grunts.

You look down at Grogu with a winning smile. “Will you eat your auntie and uncle’s cookies and telling us which one is better?”

Grogu coos excitedly.

You and Paz get your first batch of cookies baking. Grogu amuses himself by drumming on the floor with a wooden spoon.

“You two realize how stupid this is, right?” Din says, voice tinged with disapproving amusement. “They’re just cookies.”

Paz hisses like Din has said something sacrilegious. “Mandalorian honor is at stake!”

Din crosses his arms, snorting.

As soon as the cookies come out the oven, Grogu toddles over to the counter and points. “They’re too hot,” you say. “Give it ten minutes.”

He pouts.

“Grogu, be patient,” Din says firmly.

Grogu whines but returns to his drumming.

As soon as the cookies are cool enough, Paz makes sure he gets his cookie to Grogu first, probably thinking it’ll give him an advantage. Crouching in front of the little green child, he says in an obnoxiously simpering voice, “There you go.”

Grogu scarfs the cookie.

You’re ready with your own, shooting Paz a very dirty look, before smiling at Grogu. “And mine. It’s warm, be careful.”

Grogu snatches it from you and shoved it into his mouth.

“Which one do you like better?” Din asks, taking on the role of moderator, despite trying to seem like he’s above all this.

Both you and Paz wait with bated breath as Grogu raises his tiny fingers. Instead of pointing at a winner, though, he waves at the pans. All twenty-two remaining cookies fly towards him and land at his feet on the floor. He immediately shoves as many into his mouth as he can.

“Grogu, no!” Din rushes to stop him.

You and Paz grab as many of them as possible, but the kid is fast!

“I guess we’re going to have to call this a draw,” Paz says with playful resignation.

“I guess so.” You take a bite of one of his cookies. Damn, you hate to admit it, but they are good, even if they’re very different from what you’re used to.

Grogu fusses at Din, who pulls the last cookie out of his hand. “I think he got at least seven. You two are going to babysit until all that sugar’s out of his system.”

Paz chuckles, shrugging at you.

“Seems only fair,” you agree.

It turned out to be one of the most nightmarish afternoons of your entire lives.

Thank you SO much for reading this story; I'd love to hear your thoughts! 🥰

Paz Vizsla Masterlist

Werewolf Masterlist

#aerynwritesdc21 #winter challenge 2021 #paz vizsla x reader #the mandalorian fan fic #were!paz

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outercrasis · 3 years

Text

Sessions

The Razor Crest

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader (Tutor/Mesh’la)

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None :)

Summary: Mando offers to take you out for a ride on his bike – an official one this time.

A/N: This little chapter was directly inspired by my shenanigans with @castleamc so this one is for you lovely 💕 A couple notes: I picture Corellia University to be somewhere in the American South, where winter temperatures would stick around 60°F (16°C) and, if you’re curious, Mando’s bike is based off of a 1973 Honda CL350 Scrambler

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Cars aren't really your thing. You know how to fill up your tank, put air in your tires, when to bring your car in for an oil change, and hypothetically how to change a tire. It's not shocking that other vehicles, motorcycles included, aren't your thing either. There's no hostility behind your disinterest – mechanics just never caught your attention.

Now though, standing next to Mando's bike, you think you can see the appeal. It looks complex, all of the little pieces coming together to make the whole functional. The idea that you could know how it all comes together, understand what makes what work, seems exciting.

Mando is still in his apartment. Grogu demanded his attention just before he made it out the door with you, confused as to why he was being left behind with his uncle. You went ahead without him, not wanting to intrude on the moment between father and son. Besides, being out here alone gives you free reign to look the bike over and see if it really is the death trap Paz was joking about it being.

The fuel tank is a worn down silver – suggesting that it had once gleamed as brightly as Mando’s helmet, but had been well used over time. A couple speckles of rust mark the edges of the matching rear fender. Chrome dual exhaust pipes run along the left side of the bike, flaring out with the mufflers before tapering back down to small circular ends. A heat shield covers the piping, unique with its cut out patterns. Exposed as they are, the guts of the motorcycle look intricate. Bits and pieces connected to each other in ways that seem to make sense – not that you would know any different. The seat is long, plenty of room for two to sit comfortably on. It's covered by well-worn leather, another indication of the bike's heavy use.

There's a silver emblem attached to the right side of the fuel tank. It's unlike any automotive logo you've ever seen and you wonder if your lack of recognition is due to ignorance or something else. The emblem is another skull – different from the one on the back of Mando's jacket, but just as interesting. It reminds you of a stylized rhino, the giant horn curling back above the skull.

You reach out, tracing the cool metal with your fingertips. The bike looks old but in good shape and you can see the hours Mando has poured into it. It's clearly a labor of love. Paz was obviously just trying to scare you with all of his talk about it being on the verge of falling apart earlier. Enthralled by the bike, you don't even hear Mando walk up behind you.

“She’s a scrambler.”

You jump in surprise, quickly moving away from where you’d been leaning over to inspect the bike closer. Nothing about what Mando just said makes any sense to you. A picture of scrambled eggs comes to mind and you hope that isn't some twisted kind of foreshadowing.

“Excuse me?” you ask, concerned with the image that’s now taken hold in your mind.

“The Razor Crest. It’s the type of motorcycle she is," he elaborates. Mando already has his helmet on, a second one tucked under his arm. He's holding an extra jacket as well, one that’s too small to have ever been his. Both look brand new, as though they were recently plucked off the shelf.

"Did you buy those for me, Westley?" you ask, set at ease by the prospect of wearing the protective gear.

"Yeah I uh- I didn't think you'd have anything and I wanted you to feel safe so…" he trails off and you're too awestruck to reply right away. Your chest swells with affection towards the man standing before you.

His plan to take you out on his bike, officially this time, had not been a spur of the moment decision as you thought it might have been. No – he planned this, took the time to go out to the store and buy you new gear for it, all so that he could share another piece of his life with you. It’s nearly overwhelming to realize how big of a gesture it is. He won’t say it in words, but this makes it clear. You’re important to him.

He pushes the jacket towards you mumbling, “I hope I bought the right size, I had to guess.”

Wordlessly, you take it from him and slip it on. The black leather fits perfectly, zipping up easily and hugging your body as though it were made for you. Your heart skips when you see that he’s already sewn a patch onto it. A small skull stitched over your heart that matches the larger one on the back of his jacket. You’re still not entirely sure what the skull is, but you know what it symbolizes. You’re his, an obvious sign to anyone that the two of you belong together.

He’s about to hand you the helmet when you take a step towards him. You lift his helmet just enough to expose the bottom half of his face and press a full kiss to his pouty lips. “Thank you, Westley. It’s perfect.” You catch a glimpse of his wide grin before shoving the helmet back down, grabbing your own out of his hands.

“Come on, mesh’la, let me show you what she can do,” he says, taking his seat on the bike.

You put your helmet on, another perfect fit, and climb on behind him. Adrenaline is already thrumming through your veins, this time from excitement rather than panic and fear. Mando turns on the engine and revs it a few times, enjoying the opportunity to show off for you. He adjusts his position on the bike and yells to be heard through the helmets and noise.

“Hold tight.”

You grab onto his waist just as he peels out from the parking space, hitting the throttle a bit harder than necessary. You’re thankful the engine covers the sound of the undignified squeak you let out in surprise. The bike is loud, but the helmet helps to muffle the smooth whine of the engine and protects your ears.

Mando’s broad frame helps to deflect the strong wind as he pulls out onto the main road. You’re not even sure of where he’s taking you – whether this is just a short trip around the block or some hours long trip you’re woefully unprepared for. There’s no way to ask him now and in truth it feels… arbitrary. Mando could drive for days on end with you on the back of his bike and you wouldn’t care because you’re with him. How are you supposed to care about where you end up when you know that he’ll be there with you?

Pushing your questions to the back of your mind, you focus instead on the rumble beneath you, the way your arms feel wrapped around Mando’s firm torso. The sun is set on its daily descent beneath the horizon, making the shadows grow long. The image of you and Mando is distorted on the ground, mixing with the trees and shrubbery that line the road.

You’re not sure how long it is before he’s turning onto an old dirt two-track, a road Mando would have easily driven past had he not known it was there. Surprised at the change in terrain, your arms tighten around Mando and if you’re not mistaken you can feel his chest rumble with a laugh. The rugged tires adjust easily though, allowing him to navigate the nearly forgotten path just as smoothly as the paved asphalt.

About five minutes later, Mando slows the motorcycle down and lets it roll to an easy stop. He signals for you to get off of the bike, letting the kickstand down and follows suit.

Pulling your helmet off, you look around and wonder at your surroundings. A dense thicket of trees circles you, the faintest glimmers of the setting sun breaking through the branches. Even with many of the trees having dropped their leaves for the winter season the lighting is low.

“Where are we?”

Mando pulls his own helmet off and takes yours from your hands. He sets them on the Razor Crest’s seat with care before taking hold of your hand and pulling you towards the treeline. He doesn’t answer your question instead saying, “Follow me, mesh’la.”

You keep your eyes on the ground to prevent yourself from tripping on the thick underbrush as Mando pulls you along. Clearly he has a destination in mind and he seems excited to lead you there. Wherever this is, it’s completely off the beaten track for Corellia University students and you wonder how he ever found it. It must have taken some serious searching to come across.

Slowly, the brush and trees begin to thin and you look up to find yourself situated at the top of a tall hill, overlooking a forest as far as your eyes can see. It’s breathtaking and you can only imagine how it would look in the middle of summer with the trees bursting with life. You don’t even notice dropping Mando’s hand as you walk towards the edge, enchanted by the sight before you.

You turn, looking for Mando and find him a few paces back, eyes trained on you. “Westley- what? How did you-?” All of your questions want to fall out at once, leaving you unable to complete any of them.

He shrugs before digging his hands into his jean pockets and walking towards you. “I wanted to find a place where I could be alone sometimes. Away from everything. I found that two-track and then I found this,” he says, answering some of your questions.

You turn back to the unexpected sight, imagining him coming here by himself, making this secret discovery. “How far are we from campus?” you ask, hoping to get a feel for just how remote this place really is.

“About a half hour.”

Mando stands next to you now and out of your periphery you can see that he’s turned towards you, ignoring the beautiful sights he brought you to see. You’re not sure why he finds you so fascinating when such beauty rests beyond. You turn to face him, matching his gaze and slightly mystified that he simply stumbled upon this place by accident.

The sunset paints him in relief. The remaining golden rays highlight his sun-kissed skin and illuminates his cognac eyes. It’s still a little arresting to see his face so openly laid bare to you. After all those months of speaking to a helmet you’d gotten used to it, nearly picturing that as his real face rather than hypothesizing about the one hidden underneath. His hair is mussed from the helmet, random pieces sticking to his forehead. It gives him an almost boyish appearance, one that warms you heart nearly as much as his now shared hide-away.

There are a million more questions you want to ask, but staring at him in the low evening sun they all fade away. You take a step closer, hand finding his before pulling him down into a slow, easy kiss. He rests his forehead against yours when you break away, an easy smile across his face.

“I take it you like it?” he asks.

You give him another quick kiss before replying. “I love it, Westley.”

You turn back towards the vista, Mando’s hand firmly held in yours, taking in the view as the sun finishes its slow descent below the horizon. It’s calm, peaceful here away from the constant bustle of campus. Mando’s presence is strong and steady beside you and you’re more than a little rueful when it’s time to head back.

Returning to the bike, you hold your helmet for a moment before slipping it on. You glance back towards the secret outlook, hoping this won’t be the only time you come here. “Westley? Can we come back here sometime?”

He’s already situated on the bike, waiting for you to join him. The helmet is back on, hiding his expressions from your view, but you can hear the happiness in his voice. “As you wish, mesh’la.”

P.S.: My askbox is actually open now (oops) so feel free to send me any thoughts or questions you might have, or just stop by to say hi!!💕

Taglist: @honestly-shite @booksarekindaneat @wonderless-screwup @pinkninja200 @captain-jebi @ajeff855 @leias-rebelion @annathewitch @castleamc @shadowolf993 @justdrawings101 @spideysimpossiblegirl @librariantothejedi @dodgerandevans @janebby @5pectre @jinxxy-bby @sharkbait77 @roxypeanut @justnat15 @anastasiyax @paperbag33 @escapades-to-rivendell @hmarsattacks @writeforfandoms @luthien-t @danidrabbles

Apologies if I missed a tag or if tumblr was dumb and wouldn't let me tag you!

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #college!din #college!mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mandocrasis fic #sessions

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bimswritings · 2 years

Text

White Christmas

Warnings:None

Summary: Wholesome dad Din teaches Grogu a few things he can do with snow.

My contribution to the gift exchange in @starwarsfandomfests for @bluedaddysgirl . It was originally intended to be two pics, but I made this and my writer brain couldn't help but think of a story behind it! Still might post the other one later this week. I hope you enjoy!

Christmas had always been a special time of year for Din. Not necessarily for the holiday itself, but the time surrounding it. It held nothing but happiness and warmth in each memory associated with it. As a child, before he was adopted into the covert, it was a big celebration on his home world and especially in his family. Everyone from both sides of the family would come over to his house, be it cousins, great aunts and uncles, or even grandma Elle, who nobody knew how she was related to the family, yet never second guessed her presence with any event or invite.

The weeks before would be spent playing with his friends in the relieving cool air or the normally scolding planet, even playing in the occasional snow that managed to fall every so often. It was never much, just enough to cover the ground in a layer of thin white blanket, but enough for them to still manage to make and nail each other with snowballs, always leaving every kid on high alert for a surprise attack. Their town even held a snowman competition when there was enough every year, one of which he proudly held the title to for years in each age group.

And when it grew too dark, or his fingers and toes became numb with the chilly air that sent his face flush, he would head back home. Back to his mother, who seemed to always have a warm drink or meal just as he trudged through the door. She would give it to him at the table, along with a kiss that warmed him just as much. Almost like magic, and he would accuse her of having secret powers for years.

On particularly cold nights in the very middle of the cold months, they would all curl up near the fire. He would be cradled into his mother’s side while his father slung an arm over the both of them, tucking them both in as he read aloud from one of his many books that lined the shelves. On those nights, he would fall asleep to the baritone of his father’s voice, only stirring as he was carried to bed hours later.

But that was all so long ago it may have been another life entirely. Ever since he had been taken in as a foundling, Christmas had never felt the same, though the older ones did their best for the holiday, knowing how important it was to many foundlings and others from the covert whose families celebrated. On Nevarro, there was never snow and it was always just a tad too warm for comfort, yet the situation of their subterranean living allowed them to have a communal fire lit in the common area, though he could remember for a number of years they had used the forge of the Armorer. It had been quite a sight to see her normally dark and intimidating space transformed into a place all the children and even adults would gather to socialize and laugh. There you could also find a tree covered in dozens of handmade ornaments from the younglings at the school, as well as some donated by others for the season. All around there would be decorations hanging from every level the kids could reach, growing more sparse as the higher places grew out of their reach.

Presents had never been that important to any of them, more than content with the festivities and treats the kitchen managed to produce, but they always made sure each youngling and foundling had something to open on the morning of, with the adults trading in between themselves. Paz was always the most involved with this, making sure everything was checked off and nobody would feel left out. If there were ever any time where there was no one to get anything for a child he would take it on himself, sometimes having a dozen children to get for. He never complained a whisper, pulling from his own personal funds to get arguably the best gifts, though the Alor told him it would be more than fine to pull from the tribe's treasury.

Despite their best efforts to make it feel warm and inviting, he had always felt worse this time of year, still haunted by his family’s ghosts. He would never be able to celebrate with them again. Never hear the booming laugh of his uncles as his father made them all laugh with his wit, nor the voice of his mother calling everyone into the kitchen to eat. Instead, he locked himself away from the others in his room, later taking on every chance to escape the covert when he became a provider for the tribe, which led to his current situation, crouched under the control panel as he sneakily wrapped the stuffed creature in cloth.

The bright colors of the mysterious form had caught his eye in the market earlier and he knew it would make a nice addition to the Grogu’s collection. The Armorer had insisted he bring the child with him on his supply run, and though he felt guilty taking him when the festivities at the covert would be much more enjoyable for him, he didn’t put up much of an argument. The child had become the closest thing he had to a family outside the clan. Though he still had yet to officially claim him, everyone considered the child to be a part of his clan despite his claims he was just watching over him.

Old habits die hard, he assumed, cringing as he looked at the poorly wrapped gift. It was a good thing he would be more interested in the plush inside rather than his poor attempt at wrapping. Speaking of…

“Grogu?” He called out, his voice echoing through the warming ship. They were just preparing to leave the planet, which had the audacity to assault him with biting air and freezing temperatures, yet provide no snow.

He stood, ready to find the trouble maker. It wasn’t like he was expecting an answer, the child still had not spoken a word that made a lick of sense, but normally he would still make some sort of noise to let him know where he was at. Yet the longer he searched, the more panicked he grew.

“Grogu? Grogu!” Looking under every shelf and in every nook and cranny, he still couldn’t find him. Just about ready to go into full out panic mode when a breeze caught his attention, creeping in and exploiting every opening in his clothes.

Whipping around he saw that the ramp was indeed open, cracked just enough for a little gremlin of small size to slip through. Slamming the ramp’s lever, he was greeted with a face full of cold air and the relieving sight of his worry standing just a dozen feet away. The red hat given to him by one of the elders made him stand out against the white surrounding him, ears sticking out from the holes she had meticulously knitted into them.

“You can’t scare me like that.” He scolded, scoping the child into his arms, though he gave no acknowledgement to the sudden change in altitude. He was too fixated on the world around him. It still didn’t stop the Mandalorian from lecturing him.

“It’s dangerous out here. Why would..you..”

Din slowed, finally realizing what had the child’s attention.

All around them was a world of white, covering every inch of ground and clinging to the bark of the trees surrounding them. A storm must have blown in while he was taking a nap, preparing for the long flight back.

He had been to many planets with snow, yet none looked so much like his home planet. Grogu was equally enraptured, reaching out for the large flakes falling from the sky. The delicate object landed on his hand, staying only a moment before melting away. He cooed happily, reaching for another as Din felt his heart melt just as the snowflake had.

Looking around, he spotted a clump of snow surrounded by footprints, realizing with a jolt that he must have been trying to make something, only to be interrupted by Din himself.

“You know,” he set Grogu down, kneeling as he ran his glove through the snow, collecting a handful. “I used to be pretty good at making these.”

Grogu smiled, or at least what he thought was a smile, and began working on his project once again. A few minutes later Din leaned back, watching as the child pushed two stones he had handed him into their creation. It was a mock imitation in the child’s own likeness, though he seemed ecstatic with himself as he waddled a few steps back to look, taking a seat on Din’s ankle.

They sat like that for a moment, appreciating their work as the snow continued to fall around them. He liked this. This feeling he had in his chest. It had been so long since he had last felt like this, he almost forgot what it felt like.

He felt content. Happy even. Was this what it was like back at the covert? Had he been hiding himself away for so long for nothing? Maybe…maybe this year he would see if the Alor would let him stay. He had always heard Paz talking about how he needed more help around this time, so there was still work for him to do a bit closer to them.

The moment ended as he noticed a slight shiver come from Grogu, apparently only now feeling the chill of the snow. Taking him into his arms once again, he started back towards the ship where they could both warm up. His mind drifted back to the present sitting on the high shelf. It was a bit early but there was no reason he couldn’t get him something else, right? Besides, it would help him warm up while Din re-hydrated some stew mix for the both of them.

"Come on." Din softly smiled from under his helmet, bringing his cape around to protect Grogu from the numbing wind that had picked up. "I have something for you.''

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animation-recaps-by-sean · 2 years

Text

Gravity Falls Beyond the Woods Chapter Seven

The Corduroy reunion starts in earnest.

<- Prev next->

When everyone made their way back to Manly Dan’s house, the Corduroy’s were already gathering. Wendy spotted her other brother Kevin, with his wife and daughter, barely four years old.

“Wendy!” A loud voice called out. Wendy turned to see her only sister, Gwen. The youngest Corduroy had come out as trans in her teens. The two sisters hugged.

Mable wanted in on this. “Oh Gwen, you look so pretty!”

“Aw thanks Mabs. How are you and Paz doing?”

“Oh we’re getting by! We’re getting by!” She was greeted by silence. “Get it. Because we’re both…”

“Yes Mabel, we get it.” Dipper cut in. “You’ve been making that same joke since you were 17.”

"Because it's funny," she pouted.

Gwen's brothers had noticed her.

"Gwen!" Shouted Marcus.

"Get over here." Keven waved her over.

Gwen rushed over to her brothers. They begin to slam their heads together. "Corduroy! Corduroy! Corduroy!" The three chanted.

Soon the whole yard was filled with dozens of cousins, aunts, and uncles. Her father was one of 10 kids. And it was hard to keep up with them and all their kids. Most of these people Wendy didn't know. She just took for granted that she was related to these people. Just see someone huge with red hair, smile and shake their hand.

The vast amount of people made it easy for Paz and Mabel to blend in. Barely anyone gave the two a passing Glance.

As Wendy navigated her family she noticed something as she made her way to her father. "Dad, why the hell do you have coffee tables in the lawn?"

"To eat at," he grunted, flipping his burgers at the grill.

"Why don't we have regular tables?" An exasperated Wendy asked.

"Broke them all."

"Daaaad", she groaned.

"Look baby girl, I don't have to justify my life choices to you. No, help your brother bring bread to the tables."

Marcus handed her a loaf of sliced bread.

"What's this for?"

"To put the patties on."

"Why the hell aren't we using buns!”

“These are fine,” her father assured her.

Wendy went about sitting the tables as best she could. As she did she bumped into Nanna Corduroy. She wasn’t Wendy’s actual nanna, but her great great grandmother, who refused to die. She was badgering one of Wendy’s younger cousins.

"When I was your age, I already had two kids. And here you are not even married!" The poor girl looked miserable but Nana did not let up. Worse, she dragged Wendy into this. "Look at your cousin. Even she married and had kids. Albeit in the wrong order."

Wendy wanted never more than to knock the dentures out of the old crone's mouth. But their family gatherings tended to fall on the rowdy side as it is, so she bit her tongue.

Soon the burgers were served. And Wendy was right to be worried. The kids were all gathered round a table.

“My burger is breaking through,” Rose said. Sure enough, the bread had ripped around the patty.

“Ah come on, Rose. I think it’s kinda cool.” Tyrone bit into his burger. He choked. “My bite didn’t make it to the patty.”

Meanwhile back at the grill, Dipper’s bite did make the patty. “Hmm, Dan. This sure has an interesting taste.”

Manly Dan nodded sagely. “The secret is taco seasoning.”

Behind him Paz and Keven were spitting their burgers into the trash can.

The Barbeque had run into another problem. Wasps had come for the food. Mabel, who was trying to balance her plate on her lap, was swatting away the insects. However there must have been a nest nearby as all the food was soon covered with wasps. One poor bastard’s face was coated in wasps.

So everyone drove off to Gravity Falls pizza shop. What was once a historic bank had been turned into a pizzeria by none other than, “Gideon Gleeful owner and operator of Gideon Gleeful’s Bank of Pizza.”

“The sign outside says Bank Pizza,” Mabel pointed out.

Gideon sighed. “Technically there are two different signs. The bank was carved onto the building when it was bank and the pizza banner was all I was allowed to hang up. I wanted to put up a new sign but the city council would only let me do so much with the outside.” He took a deep breath. “So what can I get you?”

Soon everyone was sitting down at the table with pizza being served. All the Corduroy’s jumped at the food and scarfed it all down as the spouses (plus Mabel and Paz) looked on in mild horror.

Once half the dozens and dozens of pizza’s were gone, the Cordruy’s had settled down enough for some conversation. Paz wearily looked at Nana, who was cursing out a poor waiter. “Isn’t she the one who had a fit about you getting married in a tux?”

“Yep, she was also the one you ‘congratulated’ me for getting over being a lesbien.”

“Ugh gross. Like how hard is it to respect your great-something-granddaughters pan sexuality?”

Mabel, who was lost in one of her old scrapbooks, nodded. “Ah ha, old people are terrible. Hey look at this! I found the most adorable picture of me from high school.”

Mabel showed off an old picture of her teenage self in a cheer uniform.

“Ah babe you look adorable,” said Paz.

“I’m still surprised you became a cheerleader,” Wendy said.

“Why? I love cheering.” Mabel turned the page. “Ugh, Stacy.” She looked at her brother. “I can’t believe you brought her on our Gravity Falls trip!” She was looking at a picture of a 15-year-old Dipper with his arm around a same aged girl in front of the mystery shack.

“What? Stacy was nice,” Dipper said.

“She was literally the worst,” Pacifica said.

“Yeah, I’m with them.” Wendy said. “What happened to Michelle? She was so nice.”

“She moved away and dumped me, because she didn’t want to be tied down.” Dipper got up in a huff. “I gotta use the restroom.”

Mabel found another picture. This time it was an eighteen year old Wendy standing next to a manotaur.

“You dated a manotaur mom?” Rose asked.

“Yep, Todarex. Of course it only lasted two months. We were just too different.”

Mabel spoke up. “I thought you said you broke up because he couldn’t fit.”

Wendy choked on her water. “In a relationship. He couldn’t fit in a relationship. That’s what you were telling my twelve-year-old daughter.”

“Oh, oh right. That’s exactly what I meant. Totally wasn’t talking about his penis.”

Rose blached. “Ewwww!”

Wendy stared daggers into Mabel. “Thanks.”

As the night went by, things calmed down. As everyone was getting ready to leave, a familiar voice called out.

“Wendy, is that you?”

She turned around and was greeted by the sheriff and a deputy. But not Bulbs and Durland, who had retired to Florida, but two other faces. “Thompson! Robbie!” She hugged Thompson.

“It’s Robert. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Mabel shook his hand. “Oo Robbie, it’s so good to see you again.”

He sighed. “Thanks Mabel.” He turned to Wendy. “Tambry’s sorry she couldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, she told me. So how’s the baby?”

“Oh little Angelica doing great. Say, why doesn’t everyone come over!”

Pacifica picked up Stanley. “Me and Mabel would love to, but I promised my parents I’d take the kids to see them.”

“Well, me and Dipper are game. Dad, can you take the kids back to your house?”

He nodded.

“That's great,” Robert said.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #wendip #mabifica #wendy corduroy

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