HAPPY DINCEMBER EVERYONE
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HAPPY DINCEMBER EVERYONE

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It’s that time of year again! Our 6th annual Dincember prompt list is here!
It’s quite late this year, and with that in mind, the prompts are broken up into the 5 weeks of December. You can either do one prompt, two, or all of them—it’s totally up to you!
I hope to see what you all create with the tag #dincember 2025!
All kinds of art, writing, and more are welcome. AI is not welcome, nor anything along the lines of copying others, tracing, and the like.
Merry Christmas and Happy Hoidays!
Dincember day 20 - Thankful
A Din and Marathel ficlet
Words: 950
Pairing: Din Djarin x *reverse age gap*plus-size*fem!OC
A moment that hasn’t happened yet in You Were Marked
“Din?”
“Yes?”
“How many days have we known each other?”
“Thirty-five.”
“Thirty-five days since I threw a rock at your head.” Marathel looked thoughtful. “How many days was it … when you made the decision to come to Unmanarall and find me?”
“Um … five days before that. Karga — he’s my contact for new bounties — gave me the puck with the recording on it. I don’t know how long he had it before he told me.”
Marathel nodded. “So, forty days. Forty days ago you made a decision that changed my life forever.” Her brows knitted together for a few moments, then she took his hand and held it tightly in both of hers. “Thank you.”
“I —“
“I may never see you again after you leave me on Nevarro, but you have given me the most magnificent gift. You have shown me what a man can be. That a man can be kind and not cruel. That a man can touch me and it won’t cause me pain. That a man can make me feel happy and not terrified. And I will be grateful for that knowledge for the rest of my life. Always and forever. Bam’ser y byth’ser. Thank you, Din Djarin, Bounty Hunter. Fawr’lch, byth’ser.”
These last two words were whispered as she stepped into him, wrapping her arms around him with her face against his throat; she tucked her head under the edge of his helmet, fitting perfectly against him as she’d always had, these forty days after he’d decided to chase down the most vague of information on a whim. A whim had brought him to this moment, with this lovely woman holding him tight, and he knew that his life had been changed forever as well. Forever.
Forever.
I will know you forever.
His breath trembled in and out of his helmet as his arms encircled her. Finally, he was able to whisper back to her,
“You’re welcome.”
Dincember, day 16: Sweater — a Din and Marathel ficlet
Words: 950
Pairing: Din Djarin x *reverse age gap*plus-size*fem!OC
A moment that hasn’t happened yet in You Were Marked
Marathel sat in the lower level of the Razor Crest, playing her favorite reading game on the holopad. When she successfully typed in the correct word for the picture on the screen, the flower garden on the screen would grow new flowers. Then, when she created a simple sentence in Basic using the words she typed in, her garden would explode with enormous blossoms and fill with colorful flutterbye insects and hummerbuzzer birds. Yes, it was a silly game meant for children, but the vibrant game graphics filled her with joy. And a little bit of pride.
But she’d been playing the game for a few hours, and her eyes were itchy. Besides, she was also cold. Din had turned down the temperature to save on fuel. He didn’t refuel the Crest on Canto; he’d said that Canto put a … what was the word? Surcharge on fuel, something he didn’t want to pay, so he needed to conserve fuel as they made their way to Nevarro. Marathel had offered to pay the surcharge; it had been her fault they’d been there in the first place. Din had stared at her for some time before simply saying, “No.”
Foolish male pride, Marathel thought to herself as she put on her new jacket and wrapped her blanket around her. Typical. He’d rather refuse a creature comfort than have her use her money on him. Well, it wasn’t just himself he was making uncomfortable! There was also Grogu to consider! She’d wrapped up Grogu in his new sweater, and put the little booties on his feet. Keep your feet warm, the rest of you will be warm, she told Grogu.
She’d lived most of her life barefoot, that was the rule of Unmanarall. Women wore nothing on their feet. Ever. Her feet had always been cold. She’s knitted hundreds of socks for the men, but only a few pairs for herself, all of which she’d given to Din, back when she assumed he’d leave and she’d die and there was no point in leaving good socks in a basket. She’d been desperate to do things for Din back then, to thank this kind man who’d brought goodness into her life, a loving child she could pretend was her own, a bit of joy to her unending lonely days.
Never did she expect that she’d be heating up water for tea on a starship, flying through the heavens, to a new life that she didn’t know could exist.
Marathel stirred the fragrant herbs into the hot water before carefully picking up all three cups in her hands, letting the heat conduct through the metal spirals wrapped around her injured fingers. Oh, that feels nice. She carried the cups to the cockpit, placing them on the cockpit floor before ascending the ladder. Din had heard her moving around and had gotten up to lend a hand as she climbed.
“You didn’t need to climb up here. Is your shoulder —?”
“My shoulder is fine,” said Marathel. It was actually sore, but she needed to stop babying it. Din put an arm around her shoulders to help her steady herself as she stepped off the ladder, a touch he let linger for an extra moment before she dipped down to grab the cups of tea. She straightened up to see him studying her. “What?”
“New jacket?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “It’s very nice.” He took two cups from her, and went back to his seat, where Grogu was dozing. “Not sure you needed something quite so elaborate for Nevarro, though.”
“Dursi thought it would do.”
“It’s a bit much. Nevarro rarely gets cold enough for such a warm jacket.”
“Well, I like it. It’s very useful at the moment,” said Marathel, her tone slightly snippy.
“I told you we have to conserve fuel,” said Din, his tone matching hers. He turned his back on her before she could respond. He picked up Grogu, who was wrapped in both of his favorite blankies from his pram.
“Is Grogu warm enough?” asked Marathel.
“He’s fine.”
“He looks cold.”
“He’s fine, Marathel. He’s sleeping. He’s wearing his sweater.”
“What about you? Are you cold?”
Din tilted his helmet. “Do I look cold?”
“If you were, you wouldn’t admit it,” said Marathel, shrugging. Din drew his chin back. “And anyway, how would you … make yourself warmer? It’s not like you can put a coat over your armor.”
“I suppose I could put another layer under the flight suit. I wear thermals under here.”
Marathel frowned, considering the idea. She got up close to Din, looking at his shoulders, then pinching the upper arm of his jacket to see if there was room underneath. She held his upper arms and physically turned him to look at his back, holding her forearm against his shoulder blades to measure his back. Din held his breath, discomfited by her touch. “I could knit you a sweater,” she finally said.
“A … a sweater would be too bulky,” said Din, relieved that his voice didn’t betray how skittish he felt.
“Not necessarily. Hmmm. Yes. I will knit you a sweater.” Marathel dropped her arm, and went back below, grabbing her cup as she went down.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” called Din.
“Both!” She disappeared from sight, leaving Din wondering what the rules were about a woman knitting a sweater for a man, what it meant.
Marathel, meanwhile, was smiling to herself. She wasn’t thinking about rules or meanings of knitting a sweater, because she didn’t care about such things. She wanted to knit Din a sweater — and she was going to knit that sweater.
He didn’t love her, but that didn’t matter.
She loved him.

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Din Djarin: Creaky
Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no use of pronouns or y/n)
Summary: You give Din his first kiss.
The air filled with what sounded like the hissing of steam, but you knew it was not. You felt the weight of the helmet dip into the bed near your still locked hands.
You exhaled shakily. “Okay?”
Din’s raw, unfiltered voice hit your ears for the first time. “Okay.”
Warnings: talkative, nervous reader, kissing, sensuality but nothing overtly sexual, Din's mouth doesn't talk much, but his body sure does.
Word Count: 1.3k
A/N: I guess my role on tumblr is to disappear until dincember. For the second year in a row, this is dedicated to @dindjarindiaries and their incredible dincember works.
If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, reblog, or comment, it would be much appreciated <3
Din Works (and some more Pedro characters as well if you're interested)
My Masterlist
OMG! I nearly forgot it's Dincember!
Are there any additional rules/guidelines for Dincember that we should know about? SO excited!!
No my dear!! Total freedom for Dincember :,) just have fun!!!