Ast Is One Of My All-time Favorite Pieces Of Fiction - Tumblr Posts

latest ast chapter was a fuckin 12/10, we're here for the plot and action sequences IN ADDITION to character exploration thru emotionally complex boning. and a question, since i figure it doesn't come up later in the text: when u were describing the vibes din was getting from quinlan vos when they were force mindmelding or whatever, did u have anything in mind for what vibes vos was getting from din?

hello!!! thank you for your question!! i'm glad you loved the chapter, omg.

i also love your question, which i have been thinking about all day. i thought about it so much, in fact, that i wrote a little snippet for you, lol.

picks up after din gets quinlan back on his feet!

“A concussion charge?” Quinlan asked, feeling his eyebrows rise. The Mandalorian looked at Quinlan strangely. “And you’re still in one piece?”

Quinlan hadn’t ever had much to do with the Mandalorians. There’d been a Mandalorian bounty hunter or two in Tyranus’s service during the Clone Wars, but Tyranus had liked to keep his lackeys separate; Quinlan could count on one hand the number of times he’d talked to one of those hunters, and none of them had been like this Mandalorian.

I might be a little biased, though, Quinlan thought. Everyone who spent any amount of time with Grogu knew about the Mandalorian, and what Grogu thought of him – the kid loved the Mandalorian wholeheartedly and sincerely, with such earnestness that even a bad-tempered old boar like K’Kruhk had been charmed. Well, for a certain definition of charmed, anyway. For K’Kruhk, who’d had a hard war, charmed looked an awful lot like belligerent tolerance. Quinlan could relate.

Quinlan hadn’t had the same kind of war as K’Kruhk, though, and he’d never had to fend off Mandalorian hunters, so Quinlan had been taken in by Grogu’s earnest adoration just like most of the rest of the ramshackle Order young Luke Skywalker was trying to put together. Quinlan had liked the Mandalorian before he’d even met him properly. And now that he had met him properly –

Well.

“Usually I’m in my armor,” the Mandalorian – Din, he’d called himself, Din Djarin – admitted, answering Quinlan’s question with a startling lack of concern. They had both just been blown up, after all. Quinlan was still a bit fuzzy on the details – it was much harder shaking off a concussion now than it had been in the Clone Wars – but he remembered that much. Some kind of stun grenade, he thought.

“This time…” Din Djarin trailed off, then waved a hand, gesturing at Quinlan. “You blocked most of it, I think. With the – with your Jedi powers.”

“The Force,” Quinlan said, cocking his head. He knew that the Mandalorian knew that. What the Force was. Grogu had almost as much raw power – sheer, brilliant presence – in the Force as young Skywalker did. As Anakin Skywalker’d had before him, before – well.

Quinlan had always felt the Force like the wind. Sometimes a breeze and sometimes a gale but always moving, whirling and eddying and traveling as it would, pulling Quinlan along in its wake.

He felt it now. Even down here, in this awful little place – pain and fear and misery sunken into the walls, anchored in the stone like chains – he could feel it.

The Force whispered as it wended and weft its way around Din Djarin. It murmured in Quinlan’s ear. Playful. Curious.

Interesting, Quinlan thought, studying Djarin a little more closely. The Mandalorian’s eyes – sharp as a loth-wolf’s – narrowed a little. But Djarin was no Jedi, and even though he knew of the Force, he couldn’t feel it. He wouldn’t notice if Quinlan just – took a look. Satisfied his own curiosity.

Quinlan cast himself to the wind, feeling his way towards the Mandalorian.

What he saw surprised him. Not a Jedi, no. Jedi were – to Quinlan, they were fires. Big and small, embers and sparks, the best and brightest of them flaring like supernovas. Others were rivers. The woman behind Djarin, the one in all black, was like a river. Deep and cool and swift-moving. Others still were stones, rooted and solid. Everyone felt different in the Force. And Djarin felt like –

Like he was surprisingly hard to see. He was standing not five feet away but in the Force he felt distant. Half-hidden. Quinlan tasted pain in the wind. Faint hurts, more present pain. Djarin was injured.

Quinlan pushed a little harder, interested now. It was like trying to grasp at a leaf in the air. Too much force would net Quinlan the leaf, but break it in his hands. He just needed to reach a little farther –

There! The Force opened around Quinlan and the Mandalorian both, and Quinlan saw Din Djarin. Fierce as a loth-wolf, strong as a gundark. Sly, too, and clever.

Ben had described Mandalorians to Quinlan once, a lifetime ago. When they’d both been young Jedi coming off some of their first serious missions, Quinlan as a Shadow, Ben – Obi-Wan, though he’d let Quinlan and Bant call him Ben when they’d been alone, to help him grieve what he’d left behind on Mandalore – as a senior Padawan, still a few years shy of proper Knighthood.

What are Mandalorians like? Quinlan had asked, curious. The files all said that Mandalorians were warlike and dangerous, violent for violence’s sake. But Obi-Wan had almost seemed to admire them.

Looking at Djarin through the Force now, Quinlan could see what Ben must’ve seen, when he’d spent all that time among Satine Kryze and her people.

They are loyal, Ben had said. Fierce, yes, and they do love to fight, but – they have honor. Courage. Cleverness. And some of them are wise, as wise as Master Yoda, even, and they make friends quickly. They keep their word when they give it, and they give it freely.

Din Djarin was steady in the Force. Strong. Not a slow, deep river or a flickering flame or even a well of shadow, like Quinlan was, but – stone. Solid.

Quinlan prodded a little deeper. It couldn’t hurt to take a closer look, to see what injuries Djarin had, to see if Quin could help –

Then the Mandalorian surprised Quinlan and snapped, with a flicker of ferocity, “Stop.”

Quinlan did, surprised. He loosened his grip on the Force. Pulled back a little.

He – sensed me?

That was new. Quinlan wasn’t a novice, after all. He’d been a Shadow for longer than the Mandalorian – judging by the feel of him in the Force, the vitality – had been alive. Not even other Jedi could sense Quinlan all of the time.

That Djarin had managed it –

The Force seemed to chuckle in Quinlan’s ear, like it knew something he didn’t.

Djarin was staring at Quinlan with narrowed eyes, wary and flashing. He was hurt. Quinlan had sensed it, and wanted to ease that pain. This was Grogu’s father. Quinlan couldn’t help but like him.

Ah, thought Quinlan, surprised. He wanted to smile but didn’t want to provoke Djarin further. Not a stone, he thought. A sword.

“Forgive me,” Quinlan said, sincerely. Poking around in someone else’s head without asking was rude. Forty years at war had eroded Quinlan’s manners, but –

He thought of Ben again.

Fighting a war is no excuse to act uncivilized. Quin could almost hear him now, like Ben was standing right beside him, laughing at Quinlan like the Force was laughing at him, affectionate, amused.

The Mandalorian was eyeing Quinlan like he was trying to decide whether or not to punch him.

You would have liked him, Ben, Quinlan thought, reaching out to offer Djarin some help. Quinlan had always been a spit-poor healer, but he could at least dull the Mandalorian’s pain. Help him fight. This one’s one of the good ones. The true Mandalorians. Loyal and honorable, fierce and brave.

Yes, said the memory of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Or maybe it was the Force – these days they were one and the same, for Quinlan. Something he couldn’t bring himself to be concerned about. I would have.