THE GREENS. (THE BLACKS.)
Saleh Aljafarawi
Pairing; Din Djarin x gn!Reader
outline —; Peaceful times with Din Djarin were rare. You relish it.
word count —; 1.1k
WARNINGS —; none.
tags / themes —; reader and din are married, grogu (sweetly) interrupting a moment.
A/N —; *comes back with a massive stars wars obsession* hey, i write for them now. it's been a stressful couple months and i wanted to get something out for my birthday. this isn't beta-read, i just wanted to write. please be kind, thanks.
This galaxy raised warriors, heroes, and peace-keepers. Those who fought in the name of their planet, for the safety of the future, and the love they carry for their family. Those who were victims of war survived… or trained to survive, fight, and endure.
This galaxy isn’t raised for writers, painters, and performers. Those who coped in whomever’s name, for the sanity of themselves, and possibly for the love they carried for their crafts. Of course, artists don’t only do it for themselves. They create in order to escape; and luckily enough, they don’t press themselves into the cruel hands of the galaxy. Because it isn’t built for them.
For you, the galaxy seemed to test the waters. Warriors and Artists? Maybe those two weren’t so different, after all. Oh, how history would have written it; when the stars collide, an artist with no place in this galaxy meets a warrior who can’t find a home. Those three long years, what an adventure it has been.
Din Djarin is a victim of war. Like yourself. There truly is a place for people like you. But whilst Din grew up with the Way, you grew up tracing the sky, seeing shapes in every landscape, and memorising the curve of someone’s face. Often asking yourself questions like; Where does the shadow fall? In which direction does the light come from? If you were simplified, which shapes best describe you?
Din Djarin is a Mandalorian. Not like yourself. A Mandalorian. A warrior. He trained and connived his way till he stood in this solid home. He grew up hidden, so he stayed that way for a while in his life; often a mystery to the Guild.
“Din Djarin, do not move.” You warned, tilting your head as the heat of Nevarro’s sun hit your face. The chair, in which you sat, rocked back slightly at your movements. With arms outstretched, thumb against the pencil, you held it feebly upwards, trying to calculate the proportions of the Mandalorian’s body.
If you could see his face out in the open right now, you would’ve caught on with the fact that your husband — your riduur — was smirking. And decided to tilt his head in the opposite direction for the fun of it. You clicked your tongue in annoyance but a smile adorned your face. “I’ve been in this position for fifteen minutes, ner runi.” Din sighed softly, tapping his ungloved fingers against his forearm.
“Fifteen minutes more.” You looked at him over the rim of your notebook, sketching away. A light fire went on above your head, face lighting up as the same smile adorned your features. “I’ll entertain you, what’s our son doing?” You asked, raising your notebook down to tilt your head at him again.
Din chuckled at your demeanour or was it your question? You couldn’t tell, though he answered anyway. “Eating frogs.”
“Again?” You turned to look at the side to see your son doing so; eating frogs. Entirely, it was your fault for looking away. At the time your eyes left your riduur, Din got up, breaking your focus. “Din!” You laughed as you looked back at him.
Your Mandalorian called your name with the same energy. His next words were spoken in a gentle manner, enough to capture your attention. “I’m tired,” He merely said, extending his hand to you. “Let’s be tired together.”
You let a relieved breath. Has it always been there? You weren’t sure, though, at this moment, you let it go. You released it when settling your supplies down the chair in which you sat. You released it when you found yourself melting into Din’s hands.
With the armour off, the world is all but noisy. The only sound prominent are frogs croaking and the gentle breeze of Nevarro’s ambience. He pulled you into his chest and laid his back against the frame of the metal door.
Music. You could hear music, with your cheeks pressed against the warmth of his chest, and with his arms wrapped around you (and yours around Din’s waist). The world stopped, for a few moments it stopped, and you breathed. Inhale and exhale. The exhaustion left your body through that breath, and you could feel that Din breathed too. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. You could hear his gentle heart, if you listen close enough, you could practically hear his soul. What would it sound like?
Move. Your body screamed to move, but a part of you wanted to stay like this forever. Though, the feeling caved into you, forcing your head to look at your husband’s visor. Your chin rested on his chest as you asked warily. “Can I kiss you?”
Modulate. The Mandolorian’s helmet modulated his voice, if he answered in a chuckle, the other might receive it the wrong way. He didn’t want to move. The embrace held a significant peace, one that physically pained him when he moved a muscle. But Din didn’t speak with his brain at the moment, so he removed his helmet, and the beskar fell onto the floor beside them.
They were in the middle of nowhere, what would you say? — All is well. — That sentence proved its point when Din held your cheeks beneath his hands, and his lips were on yours. He could feel you kiss back, he could feel your cheeks against his, he could feel the lazy smile that tugged your lips. Truly, Din wanted to open his eyes, to get a better look of you without his visor, yet somehow, he couldn’t.
Din is tired. So tired. His shoulder gave in and melted between your arms; he didn’t know how it got there; your elbows above his shoulder, as your fingers explored his hair. But Din didn’t care, he just melted into your kiss, laughing, nearly crying over the unexpected bliss and peacefulness the day had to offer.
His desires of staying like this with you continued to grow within each second—
“Patu!” And then, the moment was sweetly broken.
Your lips disconnected with a sound, pulling away the moment the sound was in ear-shot. Din’s eyes landed first on the green baby, doe eyed, ears high, and head tilted innocently.
You saw him slurp a frog. “Grogu,” A waning smile reached your son’s lips when his name was mentioned, without warning, he jumped into your arms. Thankfully, you caught him. “That’s not nice of you. What if the frogs had parents?” You teased.
Din chuckled beside you, kissing your temple lightly, before opening the door. “Let’s head inside.” He said while bending to get his fallen helmet. The gesture, so simple, caught you off guard. A soft, green hand held the base of your cheek and Grogu joyfully yelled with ‘‘Iek!’
Stepping inside, you looked around, almost nostalgically. This is your home. Reminded by Grogu and Din’s presence, a smile painted your lips. They are your home. “I’ll kiss you once more when he’s asleep.” He muttered before taking Grogu from your grip.
Maybe there is a place for artists in this galaxy.
TRANSLATION(S);
riduur; spouse, husband, wife ner runi; my soul (*ner; my) (*runi; soul)
♡ PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.
Palestinians have generational trauma since the Nakba. And now it seems the trauma will continue for decades and decades to come.
The body keeps the score of what the world let happen to the Palestinians. You don't even need to see their faces to feel their nerves.
Humanity has failed a live genocide on our screens.
You can find other, longer explanations with history and all, but all the places I've seen more or less agree with this:
So you're all calling people to cancel Noah because he's in favor of a Jewish nation in what is today Israel. Which is a perfectly reasonable, decent and educated opinion to have, especially when you, to use a trendy term, "educate yourself" and find out why the state of Israel was created.
11000 dead Palestinians, half of them children
According to Hamas. Don't forget that, ever. They're the current, official government of Gaza, thus they're the ones who give numbers. This means that the real number could be 10, 1 million, anything in between. What I've read is that they probably give more of less accurate total numbers. What they fail to do, however, is distinguish between Hamas militants and civilians, and beteween civilians killed by IDF strikes, civilians killed by failed Hamas or Palestininan Islamic Jihad's rockets (which happens a lot), and Palestinians murdered by Hamas/PIJ (which also happens, a whole damn lot). They also don't specify how many civilians they have prevented or tried to prevent from evacuating or receiving aid.
11k dead people is a horrible number. Even 1 dead person is a horrible number. However, urban warfare in such a densely populated area is its own kind of hell, especially when the other side is fond of using civilians as human shields in every way possible. The fact that the number is 11k and not 50k, 100k, and so on, indicates that the IDF have indeed done a lot to minimize deaths. You don't genocide people by doing roof knocks, opening evacuation lines, dropping guided bombs, putting up an Iron Dome to deal with rockets while avoiding escalation, etc. simply because actual genocide, while a lot worse, is also cheaper, easier and faster than what they're doing. This is important because caling every act of war genocide dilutes the word, and there are actual genocides happening around the world. Also, there is a difference between striking military targets and causing civilian deaths as a side effect (what the IDF is doing) and planning and carrying out a massacre deliberately targeting civilians and inflicting as much pain and humilliation as possible on them. And there is a difference between doing so by breaking a ceasefire (which is what Hamas did), and defending your country because if you don't do that a terrorist group will anhilate you (which is what the IDF is doing).
Back to Noah. So far, these are the things that people have tried to cancel him for:
Traveling to Israel (a completely normal thing)
Having Israeli friends (another completely normal thing)
Condemning Hamas' horrible attack on October 7th (the decent thing to do)
Posting a statement saying he feels unsafe as a Jewish person in the US (which, given the rise of antisemitic acts in the world, including the US, including where he lives and where he studies, is a valid feeling to have)
Signing a letter, along with Shawn Levy, Brett Gelman, Ross Duffer and I think Cara Buono, asking Biden to press for the liberation of every hostage by Hamas. This especially shows the utter ignorance of the cancellers because, as it turns out, caring about every hostage implies a slowdown of IDF's actions (and, at the time, a delay of a ground invasion).
Supporting the existence and preservation of the state of Israel (once again, a completely normal thing). The fact that people are turning against him for these things says to me that the real reason you are all hating Noah is beacuse:
He's Jewish. Like, really really Jewish.
And the fact that this all comes from a place of antisemitism isn't hidden at all: I've seen y'all on here, on Twitter, Reddit, every other social media calling him slurs (such as "cunt"), censoring his name, pretending he's not part of the cast, asking the Duffers/Netflix to fire him, wishing him failure, doxxing him, calling on his classmates to physically assault him, etc. He doesn't need to educate himself: you guys are already teaching him a great lesson on why a Jewish state is necessary. If that's the treament he gets from his own "fans", what can he expect from the world at large?
"Who Remembers the Armenians?" by Palestinian poet Najwan Darwish / "Who Remembers the Palestinians?" by Armenian writer Sophia Armen
did paz viszla just "sacrifice" himself knowing DAMN WELL he has a son? man, i don't know anymore.
holding your hand out in front of your face and not recognizing the pattern of your palm, the grooves of your fingers, the callouses of your once work worn hands gone
gone
gone like the home in which you grew and dreamed and hoped for a future outside of only to come running back to ashes that will never reform, just a stain on the ever shifting sands and a bitter taste on your tongue
where is there time to mourn in a place such as this? when one gone shifts to another so fast you cannot tell if the air in your lungs is born of ice or forest? you count the days in gones- friends, allies, family, the very pieces of yourself falling from a metal mouth in the sky and screaming for a twin soul lost
your hand is not yours anymore, you don’t recognize the things it’s done, the ease in which it reaches for a trigger faster than the one you had before could ever signal for peace
you are gone and so is he
redemption burns hot upon your face as the world around you rebuilds and you are frozen, left clamouring for scraps of yet another gone, the arbiter of a legacy written in the stars not chosen
and with one hand weak, you carry the burden, for it is you who will be the light
you who will fight against the gone
The thing about media analysis is that yes, things really can be that deep even if the artist didn't put the thought into it intentionally.
Little cultural references, personal artist quirks, broad societal influences, unacknowledged biases...there are countless things in a piece of media that can betray subconscious beliefs and values held by the artist, even if the artist wasn't doing it on purpose. Even bad art can be picked apart for its themes, even shallow art can reflect something about the world and the person viewing it.
Any given piece of art has the potential to be however deep you're willing to dig for it, even if the artist didn't dig that deep on their own.
Hello! So, I really really love name meanings and symbolism in names, and since I’ve already made a ton of posts like this on my sideblog for the Persona series, I thought it’d be a good idea to come over here and make some for My Hero Academia! This is only gonna be Class 1-A for now because there are a lot of characters but I will be doing more of these to cover other characters.
If you have any correction feel free to let me know; I’d be happy to hear them!
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