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On a Cold, Cold Night

Pre-Season 1 Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: brief severe broken bone and wound description, otherwise mostly fluff

Word Count: 4,735

Summary: On a planet with the looming threat of a blizzard rolling in, an abandoned cabin and quarry on the verge of death has Din making choices he thought he'd never have to make in his profession.

On a cold, cold night, the Mandalorian waded in thick snow, guided on his journey with just the sensors in his helmet and the full moon lingering above him in the night sky. The wind whipped at his armor, tugging at his cowl, and screamed at him to turn back. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

If it hadn’t been for the odd shape highlighted in the moonlight, Din would never have been able to spot the cabin amongst the backdrop of trees and snow, even with the sensors in his helmet.

He had been relying on tips and hushed whispers to find his latest bounty, and if it hadn’t been for the continuous cold, Din may have even enjoyed this hunt. But snow whipped at his beskar as he trudged through thigh-high snow, its icy hands no match for the brute strength harbored underneath all the metal and padding.

Din stopped and scanned his surroundings, but no heat signature could be picked up from the white hills and trees that tower over him. A perfect place to hide out and snipe if one had the skill to, but as far as he could tell, he was alone. And he wasn’t sure what to make of that just yet.

He continued forward, the snow straining his already tired muscles. As the cabin grew nearer, the tracking fob on his belt began to blink faster and faster, its annoying beeping a comforting sound of relief, knowing that this job will soon be over.

But as he grew closer, he couldn’t help but feel as though something was… off. The cabin itself was old and decaying, a structure that has undoubtedly housed generations far before Din was ever born. No light peeked through broken windows and no sound nor movement could be detected with the naked eye.

Din paused again and amped up the sensitivity of his heat sensor mode and eyed the cabin. It was faint, and he nearly missed it, but he found a trace of a heat signature unmoving within the structure’s walls. He waited, so still, he could’ve been mistaken for a tree. But the body his helmet picked up didn’t move for the five minutes he observed.

Something was definitely wrong.

This bounty was supposed to be a considerable threat, from what Din recalled of his puck and the information Karga gave him. Another runaway wanted by their father, a deadly stray who had taken out plenty of bounty hunters before Karga practically begged Din to take the job. It was a pity the father wanted his kid alive, the job would’ve been so much easier if he could’ve dragged a dead body back between the snow and cold.

The criminal in question hadn’t come with a photo, nor gender, just their age and some basic information that was enough for Din to go off of. They had planet hopped for the past year before disappearing, and his search led him to the very cabin he now stood before.

Din hesitated, but the blinking light and sound of the fob were adamant that his quarry was indeed inside. He let out a sigh, trying to peer in through the darkness of the cabin before caving and trying the door.

To his surprise, it opened rather easily. He waited for the inevitable, the sound of a blaster going off, the blinding flash, the pressure as the plasma bounced off his armor and destroying whatever is unfortunately in its path. Instead, he was met with a deafening silence and contrasted darkness caused by the moonlight pouring through the window.

Din took a step and the wooden floors creaked and gave a little underneath his weight. He waited, but still was only met with silence and darkness. He closed the door behind him and blended into the shadows, eyes flicking over whatever was exposed by the light of the moon.

He could faintly make out furniture within the one-room home. A table with two chairs appeared to be pushed up against one wall next to a window where the moon can be seen through the ice-tinted glass. The circular rug laid at his feet took up most of the living space, disheveled and faded with time and love.

The rest was too dark to see, and he immediately tapped his helmet for his night vision feature. The cabin really was modest, but his eyes were immediately drawn to a figure lying in the cabin’s only double bed.

He could see the scratch marks his quarry had made pushing the bed closer to what Din can now see is a fireplace. Darkened wood and soot have stained the firebox, but the last fire it held had snuffed out a long time ago.

Despite being inside and no longer assaulted by the cold, brutal winds; Din could still feel just how chilled the cabin was regardless. The air lightly whistled through the cracks and broken pieces of the windows that should have been boarded up long before the storm ever touched down.

For once, Din felt a tad out of his element. He was used to violence, fighting, a struggle, begging, or bribery. Not silence, not darkness, and not a barely warm but still alive body laying on a bed as if they were a gift from the maker Himself for Din to easily snag and be on his way. Din considered calling out to his target, to ensure it was even them, but his voice got stuck in his throat. And the now fully lit up fob on his belt told him his hunch was correct, regardless of the silence and lack of facial features to identify the quarry.

After hesitating, Din finally found the nerve to quietly make his way over to the body on the bed.

His target was hidden underneath layers of musky, old, moth-eaten blankets. The top of their head poked out from underneath, but everything else was tucked away from sight. With more caution than he was used to, Din slowly peeled the blankets back and gently nudged the body from facing opposite him to laying on their back.

Din flinched. He knew his quarry’s age, but he was still surprised to find that the child he was after was a grown woman a lot older than he was made to believe, and also at how fragile she looked. She barely had the energy to shiver from the lack of warmth, limbs stiff as if in rigor mortis.

The girl was ashen, lips a grayish-blue, and her clothes were stiff as if glued to her from the cold. Din sucked in air, looking her over, wondering if she was even worth the credits to bring back. It had taken him, a healthy human male, hours to trek through the snow to find her from the nearest village. In this state, would she even make the trip alive?

Would she even survive overall?

Fists clenching and unclenching as he overlooked the girl, he monitored how shallow her breathing was. Din sighed and knew he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Out of caution, he took a photo of the girl just in case his next actions resulted in failure.

He tucked the quarry back into her blankets and sifted through the room until he found tools, rusted, but still in rather good shape. The sparseness of the cabin was infuriating, and he ended up needing to break the table down to use the flat parts to board up the windows.

He swore the whole time he was outside, fighting with the brutal winds and the cold to nail each piece of wood until he couldn’t see the glass anymore. It meant the cabin was even darker when he returned, but he doubted his sleeping companion cared all that much at the moment.

Din grabbed the remaining pieces of the table and snapped them into smaller fragments, each leg was broken in threes and placed them in the fireplace. Adding some dried unused paper he found in a chest near the bed, he used his flame thrower to ignite the kindling and the fire in the hearth roared to life, strong and resilliant. Din allowed himself to breathe and enjoy the warmth the fire brought as he kneeled in front of it.

The cabin, although still cold, was much more comfortable than when he first arrived. Din had turned his fob off and placed it in his pack and unhooked his cape to dry off on a hat rack nailed into the wall.

Din glanced over at the girl, but not much has changed. Once he felt warm enough himself, he stood and checked on the girl. Her breathing was less shallow and the sensors in his helmet told him she was starting to grow warmer, but it may be a day or two before he can get her to a healthy enough state to drag her back to the Crest where he can treat her properly before throwing her into carbonite.

With nothing to do other than wait, Din dragged a chair close to the quarry’s bed and sat, arms crossed, gazing into the fire.

The cold jolted him out of a sleep he didn’t remember falling into, his body slightly trembling. Din wasn’t sure how long he had been out for, but it must have been for a few hours. His body trembled and Din squinted into the cabin, confused, until he realized the fire had started to die out.

Din swore under his breath and took the poker next to the fireplace and stabbed at the kindling. The fire breathed to life before it weakened, threatening to snuff out again. Din frantically tore through the cabin and picked up any books and loose paper he could use as kindling.

The fire accepted Din’s offerings happily, jumping back to life as it washed the room in hues of oranges. Din sighed, shoulders tense, eyeing the fire as if he didn’t trust the thing to keep going. Outside, the wind rattled his makeshift blinds, and the cabin groaned under the pressure of a storm he hadn't known was coming when he had come to fetch the quarry.

With the panic of the fire now gone, a new panic crept up on Din. He quickly stands and tugs the blanket back to look over his girl and sucked air through his teeth, seeing just how worse off she looked.

Just like the fire, sometime in the hours of his sleep, she had changed positions, her front facing the fire as if trying to get warm. But unlike how he found her before, the quarry’s glazed eyes were open and gazing at him from beneath hooded lids, barely lucid.

The quarry licked her chapped lips in vain, the small smile pulled at the cracks in her lips, causing the crevices to start to bleed. But the cold made the blood move more like tar than life’s vital liquid, and Din couldn’t help but flinch at the sight.

“I should’ve known death would come for me in the form of a Mandalorian.”

She weakly lifted a shaky arm as if to reach out to him, but the limb immediately fell limp and her eyes rolled back into her skull. Din swore and ripped off his gloves, forcing her to look at him but her eyes remained shut.

“Hey, girl, I need you to stay awake. Can you hear me?”

He swore when he realized how icy her skin felt under his fingers. She felt like a marble statue, and for the first time since he took this bounty, Din began to seriously panic.

Din pushed down the blankets once more to really take the girl in. It couldn’t be just the cold making her this weak this fast. Din honestly was angry at himself for not realizing that the arm she hadn’t used, the one that she had cradled close to her body since he first found her, was broken. Even through the makeshift bandage job, Din could tell the way she tried to set it hadn’t been good enough and most likely had been done in haste between the storm approaching and perhaps a hunt gone wrong.

Din emptied out his own pack, found his med kit, and immediately arranged a bacta needle and the tools he needed to properly set the bone. He gently peeled the fabric from her arm and hissed at the wound that awaited him.

The skin was rotting around the opened juncture of the wound, and he could see a small flash of white where her bone was. Luckily for her, it was a clean break, but unluckily for her, she may lose the arm if his medical skills and the bacta don’t cut it.

Din rummaged through the small kitchen’s cabinets, pleased to find some canned foods and dried meats that could hold them over for at least a week, and took out a big pot and plopped it in the sink. He used his flamethrower on the spout and prayed to whatever god was out there that it would warm the pipes enough to get some water for him to clean the wound before giving the girl proper medical care. He sighed with his whole body when the pipe managed to spit out enough water for him to put in the pot and for him to clean a piece of cloth and his hands before freezing over again.

Bringing the pot over, he waited until the water was still warm enough to be pleasing, but not enough to scald. Din held his breath and gently apologized as he quickly re-set her arm properly, and she flinched hard enough for Din to need to hold her down so as to not re-injure herself.

After setting the arm in a make-shift splint made up of remaining wood and cloth from his cowl, he took the other now clean cloth and dabbed it into the water and gently patted it around the wound. The woman jolted and let out a long, hollow moan that made Din’s skin erupt in goosebumps that weren’t from the cold.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon. I promise.”

He’s not entirely sure why he’s trying to soothe her, Din doubts she could even hear him, but it made him feel less…useless as he cleaned the wound the best he could and redressed it with bandages from his med kit. He considered the catalyzer, but between the cold and any infection, he feared that would be the last shock her body needed to completely give out.

Din pulled away and watched her shiver, tears streaking down her face. He tucked the blankets back around her with care, bare fingers brushing hair out of her face with a gentleness Din didn’t even know he was capable of having. The girl was beautiful in her own right, and perhaps in other life, he would have pursued her for different reasons. 

Between keeping the fire going, ignoring the wind's howls, and the adrenaline still buzzing in his ears; Din couldn’t get back to sleep even if he wanted to. He sighed and got up, stretching, feeling his back pop. He put his items away and began to clean up the mess he made in a panic. Din paused when he came to the spilled contents of what appeared to be his quarry’s bag. He wasn’t sure how he missed it in his haste to keep the cabin shut tight, warm, and clean, but it now splayed itself in front of him as if beckoning for him to open it.

Aside from enough credits to last another six months, a toiletry bag, a med kit with expired medicines, an old-fashioned camera, and a handful of clothes; Din couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. But while shoving the items that spilled out back into the bag, he felt something bulky partly sticking out from inside of the bag’s walls.

Din brushed his fingers along the outline until he found the opening of a secret pouch. He dipped his fingers into the secret compartment and pulled out a small but thick book. The traditional material nearly threw Din off in and of itself, but when he flipped it open, he was even more shocked to find it wasn’t a book: it was a combination photo album and journal.

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to read the entries or even look at the photos, but Din felt a pull that he couldn’t quite shake, even if he felt slightly wrong for peeping into someone’s clearly private catalog. Why would a wanted criminal take the time and energy to capture photos, print them, glue them into a book, and write within its columns? Why couldn’t a data pad suffice? He knew the risk a digital journal could have, but it still felt like so much effort to make a physical book that he knew it wasn't about this being made out of safety, but rather love and passion.

The book’s binding and paper told Din it was handmade, and very well loved. He flipped through random pages, eyes moving over pictures of painted skies and clear oceans and lush forests. Some photos were selfies of the quarry, handheld, others looked like the photo had been perched on a rock or taken by a local of the area. There were a few photos here and there of what looked to be local lovers you might've picked up on your travels, and he tried not to stare too long at any selfies of you kissing a stranger or a point of view shot of them holding your hand from behind. He didn't know why jealousy briefly flashed in his heart, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. 

Din settled back into his chair, unable to look away. The quarry wrote of each of the places she visited with such love and devotion, and each passage was written in letter format, always starting with “Dear Dad,” and ending with her name and hearts drawn around her signature.

Brow furrowed, Din flipped the book back to the first page and really took a look at the photos within the first few pages. The photos were older, more bent and wrinkled, and featured a much younger version of the woman fighting death in the bed mere feet away. Sometimes she was alone, other times she posed with a woman much older than her, other times it was with an older man, a few times all three of them.

The quarry didn’t exactly look like the older couple, but there was love there. The way the man looked at the woman with such deep affection it made Din’s heart ache, remembering the way his own father looked at his mother before the war. The woman was beautiful, with laugh lines and wild hair tied up with a rag. Who were these people?

Din stared at the photo of the man in the photo, finger absently running over the image. The man in the photo and the man who hired him to bring his daughter home were two very different men. In coloring, in age, in kindness.

The man who hired him didn’t have an ounce of the love and gentleness in his face and words that Din could feel that the man in the photo had for his partner and daughter, regardless if the quarry was his by blood or not. Din couldn’t deny the love only a father could give to his child. The love didn't speak, but rather screamed at him from every photo as he turned each page and saw the quarry’s backstory come to life.

A pained groan had Din snapping the book shut with the same guilt and sheepishness of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar would have. He blinked over at his quarry and stood abruptly, dropping her journal. When had she started to shake so violently?

Din was at her side in a split second and found himself holding her good hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Her eyes were half open and glazed, blankly searching the ceiling as if trying to find an answer to unspoken questions within the wooden beams.

Her hands were icy to the touch, brow damp with sweat, clothes and hair clinging to her head and figure and shaking uncontrollably. Din swore and didn’t think twice to unclasp his armor and slipped off his boots. He slid into the bed and immediately held her to him, his larger frame enfulfing her in his embrace.

The quarry unconsciously clung to him, shaking so violently it made Din’s teeth clink together in his own mouth. But he held strong, rubbing soothing circles into her back and pulling the pile of blankets tighter around them, ensuring her back was to the fire.

After what felt like hours, the quarry slowly stopped shaking and settled into his arms. Din glanced down at her to find her face was relaxed, although flushed, and still damp with sweat. Her breathing mellowed and, for the first time since he found her, she looked to be at ease.

Din gave her a few hours, dozing with her in his arms, and rubbed her back absent mindedly with one hand. When he finally found the will to move, he pulled away from her and checked on her wounds, pleased to find the break and gash were healing nicely thanks to modern medicine.

For the next three days, when Din wasn’t holding her to him in bed and either reciting stories from his childhood or humming to her, he changed her bandages and washed the sweat from her face. When she was lucid enough, he fed her whatever he could find in the cabin, and when she had the energy, he helped her relieve herself in the cabin’s tiny bathroom before tucking her back into bed where she’d promptly pass out.

In those three days, when Din wasn’t taking care of her, he found himself drawn back to her photo album journal, flipping from one page to the next until he felt like he had memorized every detail there was to absorb.

And in those three days, Din knew he had to make a hard decision. One that would either lead a girl back to a jailer (or worse), or one where he would have to risk finding his way back to the guild with barely enough fuel and food but not enough credits to feed himself or refuel when he gets there. He loathed to think he’d have to borrow money from the covert’s savings, or deal with Karga’s smug smile knowing he had a Mandalorian in his debt.

On the fourth day, the storm let up and Din could see the sun shining through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. He glanced at the quarry and knew she was well enough by now. He could drag her through the remaining snow back to the Crest without the worry of infection or frostbite, and he could be in hyperspace by noon the next day.

All he had to do was move.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out for, but your body felt like it had been hit by a heard of banthas. Your muscles strained with the slightest movement and you couldn’t stop the pained moan from leaving your lips even if you wanted to.

When you found the energy to open your eyes, you had to squint to make out the cabin thanks to the sun shining through the cracks of the cabin. When had you boarded up the windows? It had been on your list of things to do before the storm hit, yet you had no memory of getting the chore done.

With another groan you slowly sat up, your body feeling tense yet weak at the same time. A fire burned as weakly as you felt in the fireplace, keeping the extreme cold out while still keeping the cabin on the chilly side, and you had to wonder yet again when you had found the time to make the fire in the first place.

Memories of days before came crashing down on you, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut at the intense headache that threatened to split your brain apart so suddenly.

You remembered going out to gather wood. A deer had startled you and you had tripped on a branch and tumbled down a steep hill, breaking your arm. Your arm!

You pulled your sleeve up to find the arm had been lovingly bandaged at some point, the bone back in its rightful place. Outside of a dull ache, you weren’t in any pain. You poked at the bandage and hissed, but your actions didn’t cause blood to leak to the surface and stain the bandaging. You didn’t remember dressing this, either.

You remember dragging yourself back to the cabin, hours later after getting yourself lost between the cold, the adrenaline rush, and the pain from the break. You remember desperately trying to get warm after being out in the snow for hours, finding your way back into bed after collecting every blanket the cabin had…

A Mandalorian.

You remembered the ghostly image of a Mandalorian standing above you, and your brain convinced you that it was the personification of Death coming to guide you home after so long. You remember gentle hands and kind whispers, vaguely, like a faded childhood memory. There, but not quite.

You glanced around the cabin to find that you were alone. You swung your feet over the edge of the bed and listened, waiting. But no one was inside the cabin with you, or outside, perhaps no one for miles as you had originally planned. Had the Mandalorian been a fever dream? You glanced back down at your makeshift cast and knew that you couldn’t have hallucinated him, there’s enough evidence to tell you that much for certain.

A beep caught your attention and on the nearby dresser was a fob and a small holo-pad you had never seen before. You weakly rose to your feet and stumbled over to the dresser, leaned your good arm against it, and squinted down at the devices.

The tracking fob was either dead or just not picking up on your DNA, and tapping it made the screen light up but your bounty headshot didn’t come up. You glanced down at the round holo-pad communicator, the piece of technology small enough to fit in your hand and had clearly seen better days.

The holo-pad blinked with a message from a com link you didn’t recognize. Your fingers lingered over the button to receive the message, shaking with hesitance. Before you could lose your nerve, you tapped the button and pulled your arm back as if it were being pursued by a wild animal.

You gasped and sucked in air, eyes zoning in on the image in the hologram. Anxious eyes scan the document, wondering if your tired eyes misread what was in front of you, if maybe you’re hallucinating the whole thing.

But there in front of you was a picture of yourself, much younger, grinning back at you. It had been a time when things were simpler and when your adopted parents were still alive and well. Before…before…

Your name was printed in bold letters, and right under it: DECEASED; followed by a half-assed obituary you knew had been from your owner. It lacked significant details about your life but put on enough of a show for those reading it who didn’t know you or your situation to believe the man who wrote it truly cared.

It was strange, seeing your own eulogy, gazing into eyes that were once yours so long ago. You thought of the ghost of the Mandalorian that had been there clearly to collect your bounty but had a change of heart. Did he figure out who his employer was? Did your well-being make him change his mind?

You had a million questions racing through your head as fast as your heartbeat within your chest. But amidst those buzzing questions, one statement made its presence known that made your knees weak and shoulders sag with relief, eyes tearing up:

You’re finally free.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

This was the first fanfic I've written in probably 10 years. Honestly, the Mando fandom alone has some of the most beautiful writers I've ever come across and it genuinely inspired me to come out of retirement. I had a falling out with a friend in a fandom I was once in over a decade ago and it was too painful to write. But now that I've healed and moved on and found love and inspiration in the Mando fandom and reignited my love for Star Wars in general, I'm ready to jump back into it.

I have a few spicy ideas and a few spicy/sweet chapter story ideas as well. I'm hoping once things even out at work I can create a writing schedule for future works whether it's a one-shot or chapter story to have something to look forward to outside of my career goals and advancements. It really means a lot you read this and I hope to see you again on my journey back into writing! ❤️ I may create a tumblr for my fics, still deciding, I don't quite understand Tumblr cause I'm #old but I'm willing to give it a try if it means making friends in the fandom and sharing my work!

Also, this was my first time using this site in a decade, and lemme tell you I am so proud of myself for figuring out how to tag and create bookmarks and even the page breaks. If you have any advice on how to best navigate this site as a writer, please do let me know I'd love to hear it!

shoutout to writers who:

have chronic fatigue or brain fog

have memory issues

experience chronic pain

have focus issues

experience frequent malaise

have anything else that may make it difficult to type, come up with ideas, and/or stay motivated & working

you can do this, you belong here, and you deserve to treat yourself with kindness and care

Y'know, I see a lot of posts urging people to comment on fics, so I just want to say, to all the people who do comment, and especially the long commenters:

thank you.

Long comments can be time-consuming. They can be difficult to write, but you leave them anyway!

Thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who comments.

You are the highlight of fanfiction writers' days.

Yooo I have no idea what I've done to bless the gods today, but I'm not complaining that I keep getting updates from some of my favorite fan works on AO3 today and this past weekend! Feeling extremely blessed. Thank you, Betty White! 🫶

I know there’s other posts out there but I wanted to make a comprehensive post about being completely inclusive when writing reader inserts. Everyone has their own perspective and ideas so I wanted to share my thoughts and tips that I use myself when I’m writing. Of course I most likely forgot things as well so feel free to add on if you think of something I missed and I’ll add it to the list here!

Quicke note before we get to it: if you spot something on this list that you’ve done before, don’t beat yourself up about it. We all slip up and make mistakes. Just learn from it and keep it in mind for the future! As readers, we understand that it’s near impossible to include every single individual that could possibly read your work, but the point is to be as inclusive as possible with your writing.

Under a cut for length and to make sure you always see the most updated list when you click on it! Reblogs are very much appreciated too, especially if you’re a writer so we can all learn and grow and be better!

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Labeling your reader (a guide to terminology)

Gender neutral (gn)- no pronouns, no gendered nicknames, no mentions of genitals

Assigned female at birth (afab)- no pronouns, no gendered nicknames, reader usually has a vagina

Assigned male at birth (amab)- no pronouns, no gendered nicknames, reader usually has a penis

Female/fem/f- she/her pronouns, traditionally femme nicknames, reader usually has a vagina

Male/m- he/him pronouns, traditionally masc nicknames, reader usually has a penis

Non-binary (nb)- usually they/them pronouns, reader can have either a vagina or a penis

If you do want to assign your reader character some type of label, please tag it appropriately. Lots of poc writers like to write black, Latine, Asian, etc readers for example. Or other examples are plus size reader, short reader, tall reader, nerdy reader, shy reader, sporty reader, etc.

Don’t be afraid to write a trans character too! Trans characters can have either the opposite genitalia from their birth assignment or the same, everyone is different! There’s a big lack in trans reader representation!

Please note too that just because reader is labeled one way does not necessarily mean they are cisgender. People can be non-binary and use she/her or he/him pronouns. There’s no need to label your reader as cis at all

And please don’t label your readers' sexuality as straight. Bi/pan/demi/queer people can be attracted to a male character but that does not mean they are exclusively into men. It alienates queer readers.

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Inclusive with skin tones

Please do not use “blush” or “flush” or anything like that! I know that’s one of the top issues when being inclusive with skin tones. Instead, try something like “you felt your skin heat up” or “your palms felt sweaty” or “you felt flustered.” Focus more on the emotions and what reader is feeling or thinking or physically reacting rather than saying reader blushed.

Be careful when describing bruises or injuries. Not all bruises get bright red for example. Instead, try mentioning blood stain, swelling, or just use “discolored” or “beat up” or something like that.

Not everyone’s skin turns red when slapped so just avoid “your skin reddened” altogether.

Not everyone has pink nipples, just skip describing the color altogether

Or pink lips. Again just skip the color description

While all skin is able to get burned, not everyone’s skin turns red/pink from being in the sun. Instead use more feeling descriptors like “your skin felt hot from the sun” or even describing peeling would be ok.

Don’t say that reader looks like an established character.

“Knuckles turned white” doesn’t happen with everyone so just leave it out. Focus more on muscles straining or something instead.

Avoid the phrase “you look white as a ghost” when referring to reader.

If you want to mention makeup, just leave it general and don’t specify colors or shades or anything like that. Not all shades show up the same on all skin tones.

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Inclusive with hair

Not everyone can run their fingers through their hair. Textured/curly hair gets caught or someone may not have hair long enough (or any hair) to run their fingers through.

Instead, try something like “fiddled with your fingers/ear/clothes”

Not everyone has hair long enough to tie up/back so it’s best to just not mention it at all. Your reader can just imagine how they want their hair for the scene.

If you want a more formal look, just “you styled yourself nicely” something like that is enough.

Some people enjoy hair pulling in sex, some don’t. If you want to include it, just make sure to add it in the tags/warnings so readers are aware before they get into it

~

Inclusive with language

Please don’t assume your reader doesn’t speak Spanish! (This is aimed mostly at those who write Latino characters because I see this a lot)

If a character is speaking Spanish, you can either use italics to indicate the language change or provide a translation right there. Avoid adding “you didn’t understand” with that.

Instead you can use something like “you didn’t hear” so your reader can interpret for themselves if it’s because they don’t understand or they simply didn’t hear.

I know it’s tempting but please don’t use google translate to write in another language. It’s fine or a word or a phrase but when it goes into full sentences then it gets a little funky. Try consulting with a native speaker if you can!

When writing in Spanish, please note that n and ñ are not interchangeable!

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Inclusive with body shape and size

Don’t assume your reader is thin or short and the character can easily pick them up or toss them around. If you want to specify a short reader, please tag it.

Also the opposite: done assume reader is taller than a character too!

Limbs generally don’t weigh as much so something like “he hiked you leg over his shoulder” while laying down is more inclusive (I’m short and can pick up limbs from my clients at my day job so trust me your leg itself doesn’t weigh a lot)

Avoid “you got up on your tiptoes to kiss him” because not everyone is short. Instead just say “leaned over/in to kiss” or “angled yourself to kiss” something more generalized

Usually describing a hug/holding reader/cuddling is fine but don’t get overly specific on how much a character is able to wrap their arms around the reader and fit their arms fully around reader. Writing a tight embrace or an engulfing hug should still be fine since it can be a show of emotions.

Wearing a characters clothes. Not everyone can fit their fav’s size and not everyone will “drown in his shirt.”

Again the opposite is true too: not everyone has curves or thick thighs or big breasts or a big ass. Plus size and curvy readers are important to write too since representation is lacking, but just be sure to tag it properly!

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Inclusive with background in general

Be careful when describing readers family because that can be hard for some readers. Not everyone has a good relationship with their family. Yes sometimes a backstory is needed for plot and people can pretend for the sake of the story. Just be sure to include in your warnings for the story, especially if it’s either a really good or really bad relationship.

Religion. Just don’t mention it at all.

Around the holidays especially, Christmas fics are very popular but please be aware that not everyone celebrates the same holidays! Be sure to tag and warn for any holidays that they could be celebrating.

Don’t make your reader biologically related to a white character. If you absolutely want to, there’s options like step family, adopted, childhood friends that are closer than family, etc.

Reader’s job is usually something you have more leeway with but just be sure to tag it appropriately. Disabled readers for example can’t always imagine themselves in certain jobs so it’s just something to keep in mind.

When creating a backstory for reader, try to think outside your own experience and make sure it’s not something that poc readers can’t relate to or wouldn’t have had the same experience from.

This one is more aimed at Americans but please remember that not everyone reading lives in the US. Sometimes yes, a setting is necessary, but please be open to the fact that people from all over the world read fics.

There’s really no need to give your reader an age as it can alienate a lot of readers. Sometimes it can be inferred through context but I find that outright giving reader a specific age is very excluding.

If you’re at the point where your reader has a name, it’s no longer a reader insert but an original character. Nicknames or code names are totally fine, but please don’t give reader a name.

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Inclusive with art and moodboards

Please include poc when making moodboards for your fics!! I know from personal experience it can be hard to find the right pic you want, but I promise with some digging it’s possible.

Follow models of color pages here on tumblr, there’s unsplash, Pinterest (I know it’s not the best site but I have found a lot of poc pics there) and other sites too. Curate pictures to save for later when you can!

When it comes to art for reader insert fics, please don’t default to a white woman all the time. My personal opinion is that reader should be just a shadowy figure or outline or something vague like that. Or use a few different body types and skin tones.

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General inclusive tips

These aren't specific to skin tone or anything but rather little things that can help your reader feel more immersed in your story in general. I know some writers have a specific image in mind when writing but these are little things I’ve noticed that can knock the fantasy out for me so I wanted to share some thoughts and pointers. These are lower pressure points and not as big a deal but I did want to include them anyway.

Instead of specifying food or drink, write something like “your favorite (whatever)” or don’t even mention what they make or eat. Just say they made something or they ate something, your readers can fill in for themselves that’s on the plate

If a character buys reader flowers or something, don’t specify the flower. Either leave it vague or use “your favorite flowers”

Instead of a specific outfit, leave it vague or don’t mention at all. Sometimes a certain kind of outfit is required for situations (like a formal event or ball or something), but even then you can use something like “a gown in your favorite color” or “a formal outfit that flattered you well.”

In the case of an AU or a fantasy setting you have more wiggle room with clothing but still try to leave it more vague if possible.

Same with shoes. Not everyone likes/can wear heels so keep that in mind

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To wrap up, please be aware when writing your reader inserts. It’ll get easier with practice the more you consciously do it! And please listen to poc writers/readers when we ask for inclusivity! And support writers of color too! Thank you for reading and taking it all in because I know this was a lot!

ok yeah I am actually very concerned about the mandalorian.

because if everything I’m hearing/seeing is true….they are taking the whole series/story away from the central character in a way that feels, in my opinion, like it’s happening far too abruptly and far too soon.

for many people, maybe most people, din’s story was the one that mattered. For that to be wrapped up so shortly without a truly satisfying ending to his character in pursuit of covering other characters that the casual viewer hasn’t been given enough back story for yet….it just feels incredibly disappointing and like such a gravity shattering let down for literally the SW universe’s most popular show. And if Pedro is actually going to leave and leading to the character leaving focus…I don’t think people will ever care as much as they once did.

I did not expect this for this show and it feels like such a blaster wound to the chest. I’m so sad and I do not for the life of me understand how or why this is the direction they are choosing to take to end this character’s incredible potential.

I hope it’s rumors. But the more we find out the more I’m like ….wow they’re really crushing it just like that.

I'm an educator and I'm currently considering a different occupation because I can't afford shit. The most infuriating thing is all of this listed above and then people having the audacity to look you in the eye and thank you for the work you do and how blessed teachers are. Or being told that it's a "thankless profession and people aren't teachers for the pay, they're there for the good of children everywhere." A big ol' Fuck You to everyone who has said that to me with a smile on their faces but still don't think we deserve more than what we get.

by Caducado

I completely forgot I made this and panicked when I saw I had nearly 100 notifications. I'm glad you people are enjoying the suffering I inflicted 😂

Anyway, hi! Welcome to my shit show! Make yourself comfortable! I have snacks.

I don't know if anyone's done this yet cause I'm not in the PP fandom, I haven't seen it, but since watching SNL I can't unsee this whenever I get the ad for it so suffer with me.

I made this in 5 minutes while I made mac n cheese don't @ me over quality just enjoy.