#mandothon2020

Three times Din Djarin got a hug.

AO3

Written for the @mandothon Day 28 prompts: embrace; remembrance.

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It’s been so long, too long, Din realizes, since he has felt anything like this. The last time, he wasn’t wearing armor. Because last time he was still a child. It feels different now. But good, still good.

Omera’s arms have encircled him now, gripping him tight around his middle, her head resting against his shoulder. At first he isn’t sure what to do with his hands before he finally rests them against her back. One by one, his muscles relax, and he even squeezes her a little, his chin coming to rest against her head.

With the armor, it’s a little clunky and awkward as they stand alone in the hut. But he can still feel her, even through the armor. Feel her softness and warmth. Feel her breathing as she rises and falls against his embrace. And she, he realizes, can feel his breathing.

Mandothon day 1: target/child Rated T

title from the trampled by turtles song “i’m a target too”

*

He’s been thinking on it. Her shooting.

Everybody’s got a past, so he knows not to ask any questions.

(When he saw her shot, he let out a cool nod. Never gladder about the helmet masking his face. He’s thought that a lot since landing on Sorgan, coming to this village. Meeting her.)

Omera makes him want to ask question after question after question. He can’t remember the last time he wanted to know someone. Sometimes her face looks like she wants to know him too— she only seems to have a few tells, but she wears them openly. Languages have always come easy to him. He learns hers.

One night she’s come to his barn-room, collecting his supper plate. He decides to ask.

“How did you learn to shoot?”

She gives him a normal smile, eyes slightly crinkled. This is one of her tells— a part truth to keep the rest secret. She does it when the children asks for sweets. There is what’s kept, and what’s spoken of. The children know of only the latter.

Din doesn’t want to be a child. But he gives her room to start.

“I was taught, by someone who didn’t think I’d end up better than they were.”

“On Sorgan?”

“No,” Omera shrugs. She sits down on a wicker chair lingering at the door, drops his plate to her lap. “No, I haven’t shot here until you came. I learned off world, somewhere else in the outer rim. It was cold there, the kind that can’t be solved by lighting a fire. It seeped into your bones, made them ache anytime you moved. We staved off frostbite every time we ventured out of the city, to investigate or meet a contact.”

He thought asking would quell the need in him, for a moment. Instead new questions pile up, his mind swimming through them, sorting what she’s most likely to answer and what will need to wait and what he should never, ever ask at all.

What comes feels dumb; it plots heavy out of his mouth. “Must be hard, learning to shoot on an icy planet.”

“Target’s the same Din, no matter where you are when you hit it.” She interrupts herself with a yawn; her open mouth makes him look away. “I learned there because I had someone else to protect. I had to learn if I wanted us to live together happily. Ask me now if my blaster training made me happy, I would say no. Until I remember those moments. When I was young and in love and willing to kill for it.

“I would still kill for those I love though it would weigh heavier on me.”

She then gathers herself up, nods, and rushes through the door, still sliding it back into place for him.

The child coos in his bed and Din listens to him.

Willing to kill for it.

IG-11's POV of the scene in 1.08, you know the one.

Inspired by a conversation with @swimmingbyrd about Din’s injuries in episode 1.08. 

Using the @mandothon Day 7 prompt, sleep, recovery

--------

“You make sure the Child is safe. Here. When you get to the Mandalorian covert you show them that. You tell them it’s from Din...Djarin. You tell them the foundling was in my protection, and they’ll help you.”

IG-11 continued cutting the sewer grate as it listened to the conversation. The human female designated CARA DUNE argued with the one designated THE MANDALORIAN. She wished him to accompany them, however THE MANDALORIAN clearly believed himself to be beyond repair and refused any further assistance.

An Imperial trooper began to assault their position with a flame cannon. IG-11 had no protections against such an attack and therefore followed its last command.

“I can hold them back long enough for you to escape,” THE MANDALORIAN explained to the human female. “Let me have a warrior’s death.” IG-11 thought his was logically sound. If THE MANDALORIAN were to perish, using that event to protect THE CHILD was acceptable.

Fire blasted through the door again, followed by the trooper. THE CHILD stood in the path of the trooper and IG-11 was about to abandon its current action to follow its Primary Directive when the trooper fired again. However the fire ball that shot of the cannon did not reach its destination. THE CHILD stopped it, willed it backwards into the trooper. Master had spoken of THE CHILD’S abilities in “The Force” but IG-11 had no frame of reference to understand it. It did not matter. The humans and THE CHILD were safe, though THE CHILD had exerted too much energy and passed into unconsciousness. IG-11 finished cutting the grate and kicked it open before going to assess its charge. A quick scan indicated no long-term damage, so IG-11 scooped THE CHILD into the bag and handed him to CARA DUNE.

As a nurse droid, its secondary functions included providing care to the sick or injured. Master had been very clear on this protocol; no one in need must be left to suffer. It had heard THE MANDALORIAN’S request to CARA DUNE regarding THE CHILD and took the words as an acceptable reason to forgo its Primary Directive. “ESCAPE AND PROTECT THIS CHILD,” IG instructed the human female. “I WILL STAY WITH THE MANDALORIAN.”

“Promise me you’ll bring him!” CARA DUNE shouted at him. The order was well within IG-11’s parameters; it was more than capable of carrying the weight of human male, alive or deceased.

“YOU HAVE MY WORD,” IG-11 responded.

Written for the @mandothon day 1 prompt target/child.

AO3

Protected by the dark, he waits.

In his rather limited amount of experience for someone of his age, he has found that having a comfortable hiding place is important.

Patience is a necessity when you’re being hunted, after all.

A vignette for the day six prompts - fingerprint; daydream

- - - 

She’s always been a pragmatic woman, but Omera isn’t above a daydream in the afternoon sun, when the pond warms around her. The whole village tends to get lethargic around then. Only when Winta calls her a third time does she realize she’s tuned out, the basket still in her hands. 

“What is it, Winta?” 

“Zivi’s going to the edge of the woods to pull tubers. Can I go?” Her daughter’s dark eyes plead with her. 

“Just the edge,” Omera warns. The woods are safer than they’ve been in months, but they’re still not safe. 

“Okay! I’ll be careful!” 

The girl is gone between one breath and the next. Omera looks back down at her basket and gives it a shake. Most of the krill are undersize, immature despite the season. They could stand to go another month, but she tries to sort a few keepers before she’s lost in the glint on the water’s surface again. 

Omera rises from bed first, as per usual. She’s always enjoyed rising early to watch the sun make its ascent. Sometimes, Din joins her, and other times she sits out here by herself with a cup of tea and enjoys the sounds of the wilderness around her. This morning, she sits outside alone, a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders, with a cup of tea in hand. She should probably wake them soon, her little family, but they are both sleeping so peacefully. When she had checked on them, Din, as per usual, was sleeping on his back, hands folded neatly upon his chest and Winta was splayed out across her bed, feet hanging off one side, arms the other. However, they have errands to run today and if they have any intentions of making it back before dinner they should probably get started.

Ahhhh threw this together super quickly because I wanted to participate in the Mandalorian Ficathon and it’s technically not May yet so here you go. Hope you enjoy! :)) @mandothon

Day 30: home

Pairing: Din/Omera

Read on AO3

She didn’t dare hope.

Hope was dangerous, fuel to the fire she thought had long been extinguished, the blood pumping through her foolish heart. 

Even when he left, knowing the way things had ended between them, the flame in her chest never quite flickered out of existence. 

So she didn’t dare hope.

Instead, she convinced herself that he would never come back. She had accepted it.

He proved her wrong.

Their moment of reunion was short-lived.

Their eyes locked and they stilled, the rest of the world fading away. They scanned one another. Looking for what, she didn’t know. Maybe to see what the lost years gave them.

He looked a little more worn, a little more rough-hewn. But his solid presence was the same, his quiet demeanor just as she remembered. The weight of his gaze felt no different, and still made her heart thud against her sternum.

She wanted to reach out to him. Feel his bicep beneath her hand, know for certain that he was whole and alive in front of her. Ask all the questions running through her mind. 

Instead, she took a breath and murmured, “I’ll get the barn ready.”

She stepped away. 

She could feel his eyes on her back.

---

He wants to see her.

Rather, he wants her to see him.

Ask her if they can stay. If he can stay.

Feel her hands against his helmet again. Let her slip it off this time.

If she wants what he wants, too.

He knows it can’t be that simple. It’s been too long. Surely, the years between then and now won’t allow them to pick up where they left off. 

So he wants instead. 

He lingers outside the familiar barn, watching Omera prepare his cot with deft hands. When she finishes, she turns to him, a smile on her face. He takes that as his cue to enter, placing his belongings on the table.

“It’s as if I never left,” he comments, before immediately regretting it. Was it too soon? Or was he too late?

Something flashes across her eyes, but her smile never wavers, reassuring.

“It’s all yours,” she says. He thinks he catches something in her voice, but he can’t place it.

“Thank you,” he tells her. She nods. 

He looks at her, taking in the streaks of grey through her hair and the crows feet in the corners of her eyes. He has so much he wants to say to her. He opens his mouth to try, but It collects into a lump at the back of his throat, and nothing comes out at all. 

Someone calls Omera’s name, and she dismisses herself. The room goes cold.

---

He finds her the next day, after their work is complete. The sun had vanished beneath the treeline, threatening to dip below the horizon and pitch the world into darkness.

His hand latches around her wrist, loose but earnest. 

“Would you walk with me?” He asks.

The corner of her mouth curls up. “Of course.”

They fall in step together as they follow a trail into the woods, nothing but the soft, golden touch of the setting sun to light their path. 

Her elbow brushes against his arm. The touch is not quite jolting but he inhales as warmth spreads through him. 

She lifts her hand, looping it with his arm, gentle and deliberate. He swallows, the action stirring up his heart, her fingers perfectly placed in the crook of his arm. It’s a kind gesture and he relaxes, leaning into her touch, her orbit. He doesn’t catch her smile.

They engage in small talk, speaking of their children, as they had always circled back to. It was simple and familiar. Their safe topic to ignore the tension between them, even now.

He wants to break it.

She’s already ahead of him.

“How long are you staying?” She asks. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts.

“How long can we stay?” He glances at her, tilting his helmet.

She looks at him, a slight crease between her brows.

“You can stay for as long as you need,” she answers, her voice resolute. It makes the corner of his mouth twitch upwards.

“And beyond that?” He ventures, keeping his voice even and light. An attempt at hiding something akin to hope. 

She pauses, considering. 

“If you want to,” she settles on.

The soil is soft beneath their feet, the trees cutting the sun’s rays into splinters across the ground. He watches as some land on Omera, her skin turning into gold at the contact, and he can’t help but think that she is as beautiful as he remembers her. Even moreso. 

He takes a breath.

“I stopped looking for his people,” he says, letting the thought settle between them. “He decided that I was enough.”

The thought of his child makes him smile, fond and loving. 

Sorgan couldn’t be more perfect for him.

“You agreed,” she concludes. He nods.

“He… chose me,” he continues, his voice having gone gentle with affection. “To be his home. It scared me, at the time. It made me realize that I haven’t known a home in a long time.”

Wouldn’t that be nice?

Omera understands, squeezing his arm. He stops walking, turning his body towards her, taking her hands in his. Her dark eyes search his visor, and he wants nothing more than to rip off his helmet right then and there. 

He inhales, feels the solid warmth of her hands in his. 

“Sorgan is not my home,” he murmurs. 

“But it could be,” she finishes, a small smile on her face, something sparkling and good behind her eyes.

“Yes.”

You could be, too.

Then, he takes her hands and places them against his helmet, an echo of a memory long since ingrained into his mind. 

Her eyes never leave him, but her fingers are hesitant. He nods.

Hey everyone! We’ve created a discord server for the event - you can use this space to interact with participants, ask questions, brainstorm, and have fun!