Festive Failure 2024 - Blog Posts

Unmasked A Christmas Prompt

*featuring @shuploc @southparkpedro @thethunderstormsgirl @immarocketman

Thanks to @beefrobeefcal for the fun Christmas Prompt; What Could Go Wrong? I was initially hesitant to write my first Din fic, until I pressed into my teenage Star Wars obsession. I also had planned on a wacky, galactic romp but it turned into a soft exploration of the asexuality spectrum and religious denominations? Giving you the Christmas content NOBODY asked for. At the very least, it's my pleasure to feature the amazing artists above, particularly as it relates to the fic itself. I hope you enjoy, and if not, take some fruitcake for the road!

Triggers: Star Wars canon (don't come for me, I blurred the lines a bit), M masturbation, discussion of religious concepts, naked-ness, bounty hunter stuff, fantasy smut...pretty innocuous and sweet...

Din lumbered up the ramp of the Razor Crest, immediately sealing the outer bolts to prevent entry by anyone else. Depositing his jet pack in the corner he engaged the outer shield, covering the ports and windows appropriately before ensuring he was alone. Heaving a heavy sigh of exhaustion he began to peel off the bulky gloves and armor, before hesitantly removing his mask and unceremoniously collapsing onto the metallic floor. He allowed himself a small tantrum, hefting the mask across the room, a dull clanking sound echoing off the walls, yet feeling immediately chagrined at his show of insolence. There was just one question that remained; what MORE could have possibly gone wrong?

He felt lucky that Grogu was off pursuing his training in the outer reaches with Skywalker and Ahsoka. Rubbing the back of his neck tiredly he wrinkled his brow in consternation. He was constantly worried, but hopeful that the youngling was finding a place and a purpose that suited his unique talents. Din had to admit his life had been forever changed with the introduction of this small wonder, and he could only wish their paths would cross in the future for a hopeful reunion.

Din closed his eyes, resting his head against the hull, feeling the mechanical, humming heartbeat of the ship. With trepidation he finally gazed over at the heavy mask looking back at him from the shadowed corner. The small strip of permeable material that allowed for vision had all but shattered and buckled under the force of the explosion, forcing his immediate return to the Razor Crest. One of the few components of his all but impermeable Beskar Armor was now beyond repair, leaving him somewhat stranded until he could garner the necessary replacement parts. He kicked his foot sulkily, annoyed that his quarry had escaped capture and that he found himself somewhat stranded in his otherwise preferred solitary status. Normally, that would have amounted to an inconvenience at best if it weren’t for….you.

You both had planned an impromptu meeting in the next few days to celebrate Life Day on Kashyyyk. It was a time of song, drink, gifting and rejoicing, and Din had nearly admitted to himself the truth; he was excited. Living life in this solitary manner had always suited him until…it didn’t. Mandalorian culture was steeped in its own tradition and folklore, but with the dissolution of their home world, connection had become such an insular and rarified commodity, Din had all but given up hope. Grogu had changed all that, and much like his current armor, Din found small cracks of affection and friendship beginning to melt the stolid steel of his lonely solitude. He never felt it more poignantly than when he spent time with you.

Yours was initially a friendship of convenience, facilitated by trade routes, parts and labor, precious resources, consumerism….and similarity. Another Mandarlorian. There were so few left. But that’s where the similarities ended. Din could never forget the day you had completed a run to the spaceport on Tatooine for necessary maintenance. Grogu was eager to visit Peli Motto and kept steering the ship in that direction until Din acquiesced. Leaving Grogu in Motto’s care you had returned with Din to the Razor Crest to discuss bounty requests and supply inquiries when you nonchalantly removed your helmet to admire the impressive display panel.

Din’s breath hitched in his throat quietly as you hugged your own mask to the side, reaching for the controls in admiration. He nearly closed his eyes in supplication before he realized you were unabashedly chattering away. Who was this Mandalorian and why were they unapologetically disavowing themselves from the oath in his presence? As though telepathically linked you chuckled wryly under your breath, blushing slightly at Din’s silence.

“I’m sorry, would you prefer I remain masked in your presence?” you inquired, tucking a stray hair behind your ear adorably.

“You do not observe The Way?” Din’s mechanized voice cut through the intensity, perplexed at your show of vulnerability.

“I belong to a smaller, outer sect of Mandalorians who have embraced their independence and honor the Way by other means” you smirked, grasping Din’s wrist lightly and moving back into the main cabin, leaving him relatively speechless. As a Child of the Watch, Din was well aware of the more extremist philosophies of his upbringing, but found himself immediately intrigued by your seeming contradictions. 

From that moment on, your friendship had only intensified, as Din even began to seek out your recommendations and eventual comradry. He had a tremendous amount of respect for your acumen and was completely enraptured with the dichotomy of your personhood. Armored and war-worthy one moment, soft and friendly the next. Spending time together on long hunts, or chatting around the camp fire, Din couldn’t help but steal forbidden glances behind the safety of his own mask. The light wisps of hair tickling your cheeks, the knowing crinkle in your eyes. Moments when you would reach up to massage a sore muscle, and Din found himself longing to aid your ministrations. What would it be like to touch you, he wondered. Or…to be touched?

Din shifted with discomfort against the hardened floor feeling his body react to the fleeting fantasy of your supple and pliable form beneath him. Atop him. Beside him. Stroking his face. The feather light touch of your fingertips ghosting over his chest, his lips, his…He heaved a sigh of frustration, clamoring to his feet in helplessness. He could put in a request to Tattoine to send a messenger with a replacement part, but how would he explain this holiday absence to you?

He trudged toward the sonic shower, happily peeling off the under layers of his armor and folding them neatly at his bedside. A rare opportunity to exist freely in the cocoon of the Razor Crest, Din took quick inventory of his accumulated scars, newly formed wrinkles and salty lines of grimy dirt before stepping into the soothing pulse of the shower. Breathing deeply, he activated the water function, as a fine mist of fragranced heat emanated from the shower head. Dank farrik. He shuffled his feet with annoyance, realizing the compounded problem of the moment; no holiday gift. Rubbing his face with chagrin he thought on the clandestine fantasy of the two of you wandering the street market, listening to children laugh and watching the Black Spire entertainers. Perhaps your fingers would accidentally touch as you pointed to a trinket or bauble you liked, which Din would “begrudgingly” purchase on your behalf. His face was already flush with the warm water, but would have blushed more crimson still, realizing how much time he had invested in this now unsurmountable dream.

Perhaps you wouldn’t have worn your armor at all. There might have been a chance, however small, that you would have arrived in a soft, flowy dress of silken fabric, your hair braided into an intricate pattern. Din imagined the dress, clinging to your curving body as his length twitched with anticipation. Stupid mask. He reached up to massage a tired muscle, imagining your smaller, soft hands kneading his skin underneath the now scalding liquid. He hissed with discomfort, reaching down to massage a different part of his body, which now glistened and plumped under the burgeoning heat of his own body. What would you smell like? He was absentmindedly, pumping himself languidly, breathing deeply through his nose. He thought he caught the faintest fragrance of Vormur, but it had been so long since the days of his youth, he couldn’t be sure. Everything was filtered through the armor that supported his existence and simultaneously seemed to stifle it.

Din’s head tilted back against the metallic tile as his body sagged under the weight of his desire. What would you taste like? He licked his lips with seductive thirst, biting down hard on his lower lip. Always so close, yet so far. A tendril of light pulsed at the base of his torso, expanding further and further, wrapping itself around his navel. Closer. Closer. Din was breathing heavily, his mouth slack with pleasure as he imagined more…and more…and more. Closer, closer…until….

A ship alarm pinged annoyingly, as Din’s release seemingly evaporated with the steam of the shower. His eyes flew open in frustration and anxiety, wondering what else could have possibly gone wrong. He grabbed a nearby towel, skin immediately prickling in the cooler temperatures, as he headed down the secluded corridor to his simple living quarters. A red light blared loudly indicating an incoming message, which he quickly answered without thinking.

“What?” Din quipped, immediately clamping his mouth shut as he realized the ambient, non-mechanized undertones of his natural voice. There was a dramatic silence on the other end, until a familiar and lilting voice responded…

“Din?”

Din sighed with relief, swallowing dryly at the recognition of your melodious cadence. “It’s me” he acquiesced, simultaneously thankful and embarrassed at the unintended opportunity to cancel the upcoming plans.

“I almost didn’t recognize your voice without….uh….without the mask!” you teased slightly, curious at the unexpected turn of events.

“This is my voice” Din stalled, looking around the bare components of his living space, and wondering why you weren’t there with him. 

“Sounds nice” you stated matter-a-factly, pausing again as the silence weighed heavily between you.

“How can I help?” Din countered, feeling more exposed than ever, dripping on the alloyed floor and holding the towel tightly against his waist.

“I think that’s MY question” you parried, a minute edge of concern in your tone. “I thought you were bringing in that scum from the Pyke Syndicate, and then somebody at Mos Eisley said there was some kind of explosion?” your words hung in the air with a hint of…what? Care? Curiosity? Affection?

“Don’t think I can handle myself?” Din joked, sinking down on the bed and shuffling his feet like a teenager. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a conversation without the limitations of his armor obstructing the connection.

“I can barely handle you” your ebullient voice bubbled over the intercom as Din smiled with acknowledgement. Wouldn’t he like to give you permission to try.

“Still in one piece, but it turns out my mask, is not…” Din began haltingly, loathe to relinquish his holiday dreams of celebration.

“But you’re okay?” you interrupted. “You take too many risks, you know” your voice began to lull Din into a tentative submission as he laid down on the bed and closed his eyes.

“Hmph…” Din huffed, feigning annoyance, but inwardly recognizing the apparent truth. His entire existence was a risky one, so what was so difficult about revealing himself to another person? “I’ll survive. It just means…we can’t…”…he couldn’t even bring himself to utter the deplorable words.

“You’re cancelling on me?!” you whined “I’ve been planning this for a month! I gave up that quarry from the Kessel Mines JUST so we could go to the Day of Life!”. There was a tone of mocking in your voice, but it couldn’t immediately hide the thread of disappointment, causing Din to wince with displeasure. “You know, your mask isn’t actually required for the celebration” you chastised with a slight pout.

“Listen, if I could…I would” Din countered, sincerity lacing his voice. “I…it would have been fun…” he finally admitted.

“Couldn’t we just get you a celebration veil and call it a day?” you laughed, imagining the stark contrast of Din’s stolid armor juxtaposed with a malla mask. “Maybe you could go as a Storm Trooper?”.

“Are you THAT determined to avoid my ugly mug?” Din joked, beads of water dripping down his bare legs onto the hull floor.

“I’ll bet you’re pretty handsome under all that Bezkar” you retorted, without missing a beat.

Din’s breath stilled, wondering if your supposition were true. He never thought of himself that way. But any moment spent with you, seemed to bolster his self confidence and expand the horizon of possibility. Maybe there was a world where he could let someone in. A world that included you.

“Din?” your voice echoed loudly from the ship’s intercom, as the silence of the room sealed his resolve like a cavernous mausoleum.

He cleared his throat with lamentation, willing his voice to remain steady and undaunted, “I’m…sorry” he apologized, swallowing back his own defeat. The intercom stilled, laden with the immovable weight of limitation. Din paused to assess the light breathing on the other end, shaking his head in dismay and grasping for words.

“Stay put” you reprimanded, ending the call abruptly.

“What?” Din sat bolt upright, checking the connectivity, but the line was already dead. Stay put? He was immediately suspicious of your intentionality, but perhaps that was the end of the argument. A final reprimand he was totally deserving of. Dank farrik. Another holiday alone. Din braced himself for the emotional onslaught and grabbed the nearest bodysuit for his evening’s repose. THIS is the everything else that could have gone wrong.

Skulking into the small kitchen chamber, Din prepared a nutritional ration pack, plopping unceremoniously onto the dingy floor and poking at it unenthusiastically. Some holiday. Setting the food down he subconsciously balked at his profile reflected in the steel surface of the Razor Crest. Handsome, huh? He took an uncharacteristic moment to squint at his features, dragging a finger across the stubbled hair dotting his jutting chin. He shrugged his broad shoulders appraisingly. You don’t even know what I look like…Din lamented the woebegone complaint of his recent existence as a curious thought entered his mind. But what if you did? What if there was a way I could show myself to you, and not betray everything that I believe in? Din pursed his lips with determination. No harm in trying, he reasoned. Grabbing his small, unsavory dinner, he returned to the living quarters, steeling himself across from the reflective surface of the wall. He heaved a sigh of exhaustion, beginning to study his features, reaching for the nearby data pad and writing instrument. Shaking his head with incredulity he settled in for a more acute observance. Was this sacrilige? Mandalorians weren’t supposed to reveal their countenance to members outside of their clan, but was there no personal interpretation of “The Way”? YOU had found your own unique distinction, while maintaining the inner truths of honor, respect, love and so much more. Perhaps he could do the same.

Rifling through his previous data files of sketches, he smiled at his renderings of Grogu, captured quarry, desert flora and fauna. He doubted that drawing was a necessary trait of successful bounty hunters, but had always enjoyed a small, indulgent artistic thread for his own moments of reflection. He just had never intended on drawing his own visage, until now. He paused, anticipating the enthusiasm of your response, contradicted by the recent turn of events. He had to find a way of apology. I way to express his desire for more connection. A way to show you what you truly meant to him. This was the Way. 

Settling in with a newfound focus, he studied his features with determination, ladling one decisive stroke after another, and beginning to admire the distinction in his profile, strong aquiline nose, and world-weary wrinkles. He certainly didn’t consider himself a beauty, by any extent of the imagination, but perhaps he had character. He smiled ruefully, reflecting more-so on the delicate beauty of YOUR face as he hummed quietly and contentedly. The time passed quickly before he finally pulled back to hesitatingly admire his creative work. He was certainly no Sabine Wren, but the self resemblance he’d drawn was striking. At least you would know what he looked like, underneath all that armor. And maybe someday, he could perhaps show you more. He nodded his head with approval. Maybe THIS could serve as the apology you so readily deserved. 

Another ship alarm jolted him out of his reverie, as his eyes shot up to the peripheral indicators, noticing a fast approaching figure outside the hull of the Razor Crest. Din’s body tensed with defensiveness. Had the quarry from the Pyke Syndicate somehow found his location? Running down the corridor hurriedly, Din grabbed a small blaster and poised himself at the entrance leading to the lowered ramp. He held his breath as a decisive, repeated thud sliced through the hum of the ship’s heartbeat.

“I don’t abide trespassers” Din’s voice stabbed the darkness as he punched at the intercom.

A small pause before a familiar voice punctuated the hull, “‘Happy Life Day’ to you too, idiot”.

Din inhaled quickly, whirling around helplessly and looking down at the splintered mask at his feet. You. It was you! You were here. Was he going to let you in?

“Are you going to let me in?” your voice ironically echoed, as Din clumsily dropped the blaster to the side and jammed the mask unceremoniously over his hurried countenance. He took a deep breath before making his final decision. Punching a set of buttons quickly, the whoosh of the entryway opened, revealing your own masked appearance and a nearly unrecognizable plate of….

“Is that Varos Cake?” his voice cracked with surprise, identifying the fruity confection of Mandalore, and immediately salivating at its fragrance.

“I come bearing gifts!” you teased, holding up an unwrapped package of plastiod and jamming it against the flat of Din’s fabric-suited chest. He crumpled inward, embarrassed and unaccustomed to even the indirect touch of human contact. “Room for two?” you asked, breezing past Din’s clandestinely surprised expression and closing the door behind you. Din gulped with shock, looking down at the parts replacement necessary for his splintered vision plate.

“Where did you find this?’ Din held an edge of incredulity in his voice as you sat yourself down on the ONLY chair available in the main corridor, removing your own mask with a flourish. He stifled a gasp EVERY time you unmasked in his presence, but this evening your eyes were shining with a greater mischief and celebration that literally took his breath away.

“Despite evidence to the contrary, I happen to be a Mandalorian as well, nerf-herder. You don’t think I have replacement parts for my own mask?” you drolled, propping your feet up on the nearby table with joviality. “Love the bodysuit, by the way…”

Din placed a hand on his hip, chuckling to himself with acknowledgement. “And the Varos Cake?” he pointed inquisitively at the holiday delicacy.

“SOME of us were prepared for the “Day of Life” celebration” you chided, squinting skeptically at the splintered remains of his visor plate. “Bet you didn’t even get me a gift” you reprimanded, holding out the cake with reproach. 

“I got you a gift” Din shot back, moving forward to take your outstretched hand, and realizing one second too late that his was ungloved. Din hissed with sensitivity, as your fingers brushed in the quick contact. Nearly dropping the cake to the floor you both paused in an awkward silence, holding the plate between you. An electricity hung in the atmosphere as the dull din of the ship hummed around you. It was as though a hypnotic womb of security engulfed the moment, hugging you both and soothing any anxieties.

“Close your eyes” Din lowly intoned, slowly setting the cake down on the table next to you, his mask devastatingly close to your curious expression. You swallowed dryly, mere inches from the mechanized breath of his mask, finally closing your eyes in amenability. Din took a moment to admire the color in your cheeks, and the fluttering beauty of your eyelashes, attempting to take in every detail for his next sketch. He quietly removed his mask with trepidation, finally breathing the night air and enjoying the fragrance of your perfume. Vorum. He sighed heavily with relief, mere inches from your budding lips, and feeling the magnetic pull of your humanity. He tentatively reached up with a feather-light finger poised just above your jawline. Perhaps there WAS a world that included more than just the solo journey.

Several moments passed as you sat silently, awaiting whatever moment was about to transpire, but nothing materialized. With rapt anticipation you finally whispered, “Din?”.

“Open your eyes”.

You hesitantly cocked one eye-lid open, greeted by the repaired visage of Din’s masked countenance, as he held out a data pad for your perusal.

“A data pad?” you quipped “….really you shouldn’t have” you jested, before Din interrupted.

“Look” he slanted his head sideways, imploring you to observe more closely.

“Who’s this handsome demon?” you joked, before inhaling quickly with realization. “Is this you?” you finally whispered, as Din sat achingly close, your shoulders now touching.

“Tis the season?” he offered, nudging his shoulder against your side and awkwardly clasping his hands in front of him. He admired your slender fingers as you dragged them across the data pad idly, the warmth of your bodies heating one another in the winter solstice. You eventually rested your chin on his shoulder, gazing adoringly into the reflective surface of his now repaired mask.

“Thank you for showing this to me” you softly stated, tilting your head against his and breathing quietly.

“Maybe someday I can show you more” Din finally uttered, feeling a sense of relief and affection wash over him contentedly.

You paused, a smile curling the corners of your delicate mouth, “I’d like that, Din” you promised. “Happy Life Day…”

“Happy Life Day, cyare” Din sighed with enjoyment. Happy Life Day, indeed. 

Maybe not EVERYTHING had gone wrong…

*thanks @thecutestgrotto for the cool dividers!