#Mandalorian sigils

[alcida-auka]

Clan Wren Sigil -- a feather

It was really in front of us the entire time in Star Wars Rebels on Ursa Wren's armor and hairpin, but this feather is Clan Wren's sigil. Presumably, they are simply named for the Mandalorian version of the wren, as Din's clan is named for Mudhorn.

[omaano]

They aren't very good at this

I blame discord for this: as in everyone was in such great agreement that it would be very cool and full of great symbolic potential if Paz was a Zabrak under the helmet, meanwhile I decided to double down on a joke and make him big and blue within his shell as well. So he is a Pantoran now with a fantastic pastel beard (and Din got the full update finally too!)

Check out more posts in my Mandalorian meets Hades hobby project at the link ;)

[sharkteethies]

mandalorian!au cal just because

[cienie-isengardu]

I can’t say I like what The Mandalorian TV series (Disney) is doing with mandalorian culture overall, but I see what creators did with the Children of the Watch’s banner. The blooming twig, according to Star Wars Book Expand your knowledge of a galaxy far far away is a peacetime sigil of House Vizsla, predating the Death Watch coup (an interesting choice in regard to New Mandalorians and Children of the Watch, while Pre Vizsla was using the original sigil of shriek-hawk the same as Death Watch) while in the corner of the banner there is a symbol shaped like number 7 known from Jaster Mereel’s sigil (used also by Jango and Boba Fetts). Nice details.

[sudden-stops-kill]

krybes

[blackat-t7t]

Another jangobi idea I don't think I've talked about anywhere:

Soulmates AU

Inspired a bit by this fic and this other one

(For some reason, this fic, or at least the first part, really wants to be written from Jaster's perspective, instead of Jango or Obi-Wan's 😆)

Fun ("fun") fact- according to wookieepedia, both the battle of Galidraan and Obi-Wan's time on Bandomeer take place in 44 BBY. (I love playing with this fact.)

So, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are on their way back to Coruscant after Bandomeer, when the jedi council sends out a request for any masters or knights who are in the area and aren't otherwise engaged to join Dooku on his way to Galidraan as backup.

Obi-Wan is supposed to stay on the ship, but he feels the Force urging him to go out, and he's curious. When he sees the mandalorians and jedi squaring off, he recognizes his soulmark painted on Jango's armor, and he can't believe his soulmate would have done the things the governor has accused them of. He thows himself in between Dooku and Jango and begs them not to fight. Although they argue over Obi-Wan's head, the truth eventually comes out that the Jedi were told the True Mandalorians were killing innocents and came to stop them, and the True Mandalorians were set up by the governor and Death Watch. Some of them are sent out to secure the governor and any Death Watch still on the planet, and the mandalorians and jedi agree to a ceasefire while they sort things out. Jango (head of True Mandalorians' supercommandos) calls in Jaster (the Mand'alor) to handle the politics and negotiations.

Later, Obi-Wan sneaks into the mandalorian camp hoping to spot Jango again, and ends up hiding from a passing mandalorian in Jaster's command tent. When Jaster asks what he's doing, Obi-Wan swears he's not a spy, he was just curious. They end up discussing mandalorian iconography, the mythosaur skull and the variant that is the True Mandalorians' sigil, the shreik hawk that the Death Watch wear, jaig eyes, the journeyman protector symbol, etc. Jaster, of course, is happy to educate him. When Jango stops by, Obi-Wan asks about the lightsaber in the symbol on his armor, and Jango is kind of dismissive, says it's not a lightsaber, but the Darksaber. Jaster explains the history.

Eventually, Qui-Gon comes to bring Obi-Wan back to the Jedi ship because they're leaving. He didn't recognize the symbol on Jango's armor at first, but now he's remembered Obi-Wan's soulmark and put two and two together. He doesn't want anyone to realize Obi-Wan is Jango's soulmate, partially because of the political implications and the age difference- but mostly because, after Xanatos, he's convinced that any close relationships, including soulmates, can lead a jedi to fall, and he doesn't want Obi-Wan and Jango to become close.

Before he leaves, Obi-Wan asks Jaster to tell Jango he's sorry they couldn't get to know each other better. Jaster is confused at first, but he quickly realizes what Obi-Wan was saying, and why Obi-Wan was asking about the mythosaur and the light/darksaber symbols, which are both part of the soulmark. When Jango comes to see him, he asks if Jango has checked his soulmark. Jango does, and it's colored in now instead of in greys. The lightsaber has the unique shape of the darksaber, but it's blue, which surprises him. He says he didn't feel a pull to any of the Jedi he met, and asks why Jaster thought the color might have changed. Jaster reminds him of Obi-Wan, intervening to protect Jango and asking about the symbols in the soulmark. By this point, Obi-Wan and the jedi have already left, and Jango can't go after them because he has responsibilities in mandalorian space.

Of course, this is only the begining of the story. There's more, when Obi-Wan seeks mandalorian help while on Melida/Daan, and when he's on Mandalore to protect Satine. But that's the basic premise of the fic.

[thegreenlizard]

Bare beskar

On the eve of marching to war, Obi-Wan makes plans and digs out his old armour. Musings on Mandalorian armour and culture, the ethics of commanding slave soldiers and how that affects one’s self-image.

Could be the same AU as “Not Obi-Wan’s first slave uprising” and “What makes a military genius” (where Obi-Wan is presented with a battalion of slave soldiers, says please and thank you, and starts plotting how to take down the slavers).

Obi-Wan has Mandalorian armour, courtesy of the Kyr’tsad who failed to kill him when he was seventeen and running for his life on Mandalore. The Jedi frown on such soldierly things, so the armour has mostly gathered dust in his closet for the past decade and some. But Obi-Wan has fought in a war before and recognises that no matter how good one is, sometimes armour is all that stands between bleeding out in a ditch and living to fight another day.

So on the eve of marching to war, Obi-Wan digs out his armour to clean and repair and condition every piece. He looks at its light green for peace and green for duty, the order’s wings on one pauldron/over his heart. He strips it all off. He has no right to wear any of it now, and the bare beskar is a statement of its own.

Plus

- Feels about how bare unpainted beskar could be silver for seeking redemption, disavowing all ties (in that there’s no one and nothing to paint his armour for), for being an outcast (which in his heart, he has already decided to become), or all of them. Leading a slave army to war is really really not in the Jedi mission statement. Obi-Wan, having experienced his own stints as a slave, having brought up a padawan who was born a slave, and having already left the order once for an army of child soldiers—well, he has some feels about it.

- Obi-Wan’s closet doesn’t just have armour, it also has a veritable armoury of, ah, useful souvenirs from his various missions. Maybe it makes him a bad Jedi, but Obi-Wan has some difficulty with letting go of possessions that have saved his life. Such as the sniper rifle from Melidaan, a blaster from here, and a vibroblade from there…

- Cody’s/The 212th’s reactions to their Jedi whose luggage apparently includes a full set of arms and armour and little else.

- There’s a story that armour tells for anyone who can read it and I wonder if the clones could. There are only a few things that a completely unpainted beskar’gam could mean. Either it’s completely new and the owner hasn’t had time yet to paint it. But Kenobi’s beskar’gam isn’t new: the metal has scrapes all over it and some fittings are clearly newer than others. It could be second hand, but as the weeks pass, the metal stays bare. And even though some shinies joke about their shiny, very visible general, Kenobi won’t even put on a matte base coat, just thanks the men politely and keeps on shining. It has to be intentional.

- When Obi-Wan eventually repaints his armour, it’s in gold for the 212th and black for justice for the vode.

In the days between accepting his marching orders and shipping out to meet his battalion, Obi-Wan researches, plans, and packs. He sleeps fitfully and dreams of Melida-Daan, of Bandomeer, of Mandalore. He tears through the archives and with echoes of the Young in his ears, downloads anything that might help keep his men alive. With a growing cold like deep sea mines, he reads the clones spec sheets, reviews galactic law, and speed reads his way through the last few years of the senate’s bills.

He pulls out of his closet possessions unbecoming of Jedi—things he has kept because he has been unable to let go of the fear of . There’s his old XX sniper rifle from Melida-Daan. A blaster from here. A vibroblade from there.

And there’s the armour he got from Mandalore. It’s painted in green for duty and erin for peace, the order’s sigil on the pauldron. He can hardly stand to look at it. Standing here, at the eve of marching to war that is to be fought with slave soldiers, he has no right to wear any of it. Not the green of duty, for he has forsaken his duty to protect all sentient life in accepting command of an army of slaves. Not the erin of peace, for he is marching off to fight a war to force worlds to stay in a republic they don’t wish to be a part of. Not the sigil of the Jedi order, for he has already forsaken his vows in these actions—and has already decided to forsake his duty to the republic.

Obi-Wan strips the beskar bare. Before refitting the armour, going through the straps, buckles, replacing worn parts and reconditioning the rest. He spends sleepless nights in the salles relearning to fight in armour.

“Paint? I painted it when I was seventeen. I, ah, stripped it when I accepted the draft.” Kenobi grimaces, but sets his jaw and continues. “I couldn’t keep the paint I had after that.” There’s an odd, bitter clang to his words.

[secondaxispoint]

Din Djarin x Male!Mando!Reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x Male!Mando!Reader

Warning: None!

Content: Fluff

This is from Din’s perspective so the reader has a nickname. No use of y/n. Hope you guys enjoy!

Partners

Din had been so used to living alone that when another Mandalorian offered to join him in his travels, it took him a while to come to terms with it. The man was quiet and intelligent. He was a bit taller than him and had a broad frame. Din had watched the other hunter in action and was surprised he had never met him before. His reddish tinted beskar and durasteel armour looked similar to his own, Mandalorian sigil forged proudly on his shoulder.

Once Din had stepped on board, along with his new partner, he was pleasantly greeted by Grogu. He smiles under his helmet and leans down to pick the creature up. He turns to the other man and starts introductions.

“This is Grogu, Grogu this is…”

He pauses, releasing that he never got a name from the other hunter. He looks up from the little beast he held in his arms. A bit of tension left his shoulders when he heard the warrior laugh through his helmet and step a bit closer.

“Jackal. Nice to meet you little guy.”

Din watches as he leans down and reaches a hand to Grogu who giggles happily and grabs one of his gloved fingers. 

“You can get to know him after we get out of here. For now you should get familiar with the controls and layout of the ship.”

Jackal nods and Grogu releases his grip. Din puts him down and makes for the small area where he keeps his weapons. Jackal’s rifle is still clasped to his back and his blaster is still on his hip. He’d have to clear a spot for the other’s weapons. But for now, Din puts his stuff away and leads the man to the very front of the ship. When he hears Jackal’s footsteps become irregular, he looks back to see that Grogu has attached himself to the taller man's calf.

“Y’know it would be easier for both of you if you just picked him up.”

He heard Jackal stifle a laugh as he bent down to pick up the clingy child. Once he had Grogu securely in his arms, he continued on behind Din.

It took a few hours, but the three finally found a safe place to rest for a while. Jackal volunteered to stay up a bit longer due to the lack of space in the ship. Din felt sort of bad but trusted the man to his own devices. He tried to retreat back to his and Grogu’s cramped sleeping quarters but the little one refused to go with him. Grogu climbed up and forced himself into Jackal’s lap. He chuckled and told Din that it was okay and that he would watch over Grogu while he slept.

Din had slept through most of the night, only waking when he heard a quiet knock on the shudder. He opens it to see Jackal standing with a sleeping Grogu in his arms. He silently shuffled out of the sleeping area and offered it to the other. Jackal had a bit tougher time fitting in the makeshift bed but he made it work. Din stretched and prepared himself for the day.

Two years later, the three of you were still together. Din and Jackle had been dancing around their feelings for eachother for over half of it. They shared little moments here and there but never explicitly confronted the other about it. Neither of them wanted to ruin the partnership that they had been building. So feelings continue to go unacknowledged. At least they do until a bounty goes sideways and Jackal almost gets himself killed trying to save Din.

So they both sit in the Razor Crest, panting and bloody. The ship was completely silent besides the ragged breaths coming from the hunters. Grogu was safe and sound with Peli, far away from the shit storm the two created for themselves. Din noticed the stiff and pained posture Jackal had taken. He stood and walked over to the medical area, grabbing a kit, and bringing it back to Jackal.

Din assisted Jackal, laying him down on the floor, and taking his armour off. Albeit not being the cleanest place to tend to an open wound, it was all they had at the moment. With his chest piece off and his weapon put aside, Jackal helped pull the undershirt up enough so that Din could tend to his injury. He had a large vertical gash on his lower left abdomen. Din saw that his midsection was littered with varying healed scars.

He stitches up and bandages the slash before leaning back giving the other some breathing room. Sitting back on his heels, he watched Jackal’s chest rise and fall steadily. Jackal reaches a hand to Din, which he grasps in his own. He helped the man sit up and get up into the co-pilot’s seat in the control room. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes for the injured hunter and gave him some privacy to change. Din stood outside the door, nervously swaying back and forth.

He waited for Jackal to trudge out, hand on his side. Din let out a sigh of relief and offered Jackal his armour back. He didn’t put it back on, instead opting to set it aside and sitting back down in his seat with a groan. Din moved behind him, too restless to sit. He put his hand on the back of Jackal’s chair and spun it around. He wanted to make absolute sure that his partner was going to be okay.

Jackal tilted his head, confused. Din knelt down in front of him with his hands on both sides of the armrests. Jackal said nothing but leaned forward slightly. Din moved his hands down to Jackal’s knees, not pressing any further, just simply setting them there. Din could hear his breath hitch through his helmet. Jackal sat stiff and still until Din started to pull away. Neither man said anything. Jackal grabbed one of Din’s hands and pulled him up to eye level. Slowly leaning forward, Din gently touched his helmet to Jackal’s. He leaned back and sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

Jackal asked, genuinely concerned. Din looked up, and got an idea.

“Do you trust me?”

Din asked the man in front of him.

“With my life.”

The ease with which he said it made Din a bit dizzy.

“Sit tight.”

Din walked to the control panel and Jackal heard him flip a few switches. The lights dimmed and then turned off fully, leaving the men in almost complete darkness. Din carefully moved back in front of Jackal and kneeled in front of him once again. He slowly takes his helmet off and audibly sets it down, hoping Jackal knows what he’s implying. Luckily he does.

He hears Jackal take off his helmet and gently presses it into his hand for him to put down. After placing the helmet down next to his own, Din leaned back up. He stopped about an inch away, he could feel Jackal’s breath on his face.

“Is this okay?”

Din asked in a hushed tone. Instead of responding, Jackal closed the distance between them. The kiss is slow and meaningful. Almost two years of pent up feelings and unresolved tension shone through their intimacy. Jackal moved his hand up and rested it on the back of Din’s neck, the other cupped his jaw. Din tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Jackal was the first to pull away for air but Din didn’t want the kiss to end. He moved down to pepper Jackal’s neck in love bites and small kisses. Din felt a groan rumble in the back of Jackal’s throat. He finally pulled back and listened to the other man pant in the darkness. Din started to stand up but before he could, Jackal grabbed his hands once again. Only this time he pulled Din towards him.

Din was tugged into Jackal’s lap. Once he was comfortable and not anywhere near Jackal’s injury, Din grabbed both sides of his face and yanked him in again. This time their kiss was more heated. Hands wandered. They both made the most of it since they were probably never going to see each other's faces. Jackal felt the stubble on Din’s face, and ran his fingers through his soft hair.

Although Din couldn’t see, he could imagine what the man in front of him looked like. Flushed cheeks with half-lidded and glossed over eyes. He felt as his cheeks started to burn at the thought. Din was shocked back into reality by a pained groan coming from Jackal. He jumped out of the man’s lap and apologised for losing focus.

“It’s alright Din I’m okay. But maybe we should take a little break for today.”

Jackal chuckled lightly and Din smiled into the darkness. Din fumbled around the ground and grabbed the helmets, putting his on and handing Jackal his. Once both of the Mandalorians were covered, Din slowly turned the lights back on. He saw Jackal, still seated, with his clothes a bit ruffled. He was breathing a bit heavier than normal but other than that he looked okay. He walked back over and offered to lead the fellow hunter back to the makeshift bed with a concealed smile. Jackal accepted his offer gratefully, and the two packed themselves in the small space. They both slept peacefully for the first time in years.

[ranahan]

Dral’Han & derived words

I think Mando’a should have a whole bunch of words indirectly or directly derived from Dral’Han aka the Mandalorian Excision, and I finally got around to making some.

Ahan (n): desolation, waste, wasteland, desert

I’m really leaning on the “desolate, lifeless” sense here, not just some place that receives less rainfall. Ahane is applicable to any lifeless place, whether that’s a hot desert like Tatooine, a cold desert like Antarctica, lava flats like Mustafar, or a man-made hellhole like Melida/Daan. Very much the same energy as “wastes” in English. I’m thinking Mando’a has another word for “wilderness” or “arid landscape” as well, that leans more on the drought and less on the annihilation.

Construction is equivalent to viin ‘run’ > iviin ‘speed’ or vaar ‘early’ > evaar ‘new’. Should possibly be ehan(?), but I didn’t like the sound, so.

Ahanyc (a): desolate, barren, wasted, deserted, empty, lifeless

Ahane (n): lit. wastes, barrens, deserts. A collective term for the Mandalorian deserts formed by the Dral’Han.

Hane (n): wastes, barrens, deserts; a common part of place names on Mandalorian worlds affected by Dral'Han (e.g. Sundar’hane, the Sundari Desert aka the Sundari Wastes)

A more casual/contracted version of ahan/ahane that could be extended to mean other kinds of deserts as well.

Ahan’choruk (n): lit. desolation rock. Metamorphic rock formed by the heat and pressure of the bombs of the Dral’Han; a general term for impactites formed by bombs instead of natural processes.

Hanil (n): 1. An amulet, carving, or other item made from the glass formed in the Dral’Han. Sometimes left in their natural, irregular shapes, sometimes worked into shapes of extinct Mandalorian plants and animals, sometimes carved with inscriptions. Botanicals are common motifs due to the green colours of the material. Specimens that incorporate pieces of pre-Dral’Han material are especially valuable. Hanile are symbols of remembrance, defiance, and rebirth for some and pursuit of peace for others. Sundari had a famous large mosaic made from desert glass, in a style preceding Mandalorian cubism.; 2. a sigil in the shape of a hanil, typically in a jade-green color and shaped like an extinct plant or an animal, often a flower or a leaf.

Inspired by Māori pounamu and jade carvings of various other cultures.

N.B. trinitite is radioactive, although the radioactive particles decay quite fast. After a couple of centuries, it should have been safe. Trinitite from the Purge of Mandalore during the Galactic Emprie however, would still be somewhat radioactive at the time of The Mandalorian/Book of Boba Fett—not terribly dangerous, but not exactly something you would want to make jewellery from.

And then there should also be a name for the stone that hanile are made from, i.e. basically a Mando’a word for trinitite, but it’s not quite congealing right now. Bedral, behan, hanab (be + han), tehan (teh + han)? I would have made it dralurok, but I already had that down as “diamond”. Basically I’d like there to be a general term for the subclass of metamorphic rocks formed by nuclear weapons (which I imagine are many and varied depending on where the bombs dropped), and a more compact “trade term” for the specific kind which makes pretty trinkets like hanile.

? (n): trinitite formed in the Dral'han, aka Mandalorian desert glass, aka Mandalorian jade (called so after its greenish colours)

[omaano]

I needed some time to recharge this weekend, so I updated these little portraits and sigils for my Mandalorian meets Hades hobby project. Upper row already has full character illustrations, while the lower row is for my future plans! As soon as I can rub two braincells together and have a minute to breathe I really want to get to work on the Nite Owl trio :D (and maybe draw a face for Paz I'll just first have to decide whether I want him to be a Zabrak or Pantoran under that helmet)

Paz - Cobb - Boba - Din with tiny pocket Luke in the background

[tinky-dinky]

The Cuy’val Dar

Following on from my Jango post, I want to talk about the Cuy’val Dar.

The same warning as that post applies. This is largely my speculations based on canon, but not actually canon.

A note about Legends canon: Unless it is directly contradicted by the current canon, I choose to include Legends canon as canon.

So, the Cuy’val Dar (Mando’a meaning those who are lost) are the trainers Jango recruited to train the clones on Kamino. There were one hundred of these trainers, and seventy five of those one hundred were Mandalorians. The other twenty five were probably bounty hunters and general mercenaries.

Of the seventy five Mandos, we only know the names of 12 of them. Two, Isabet Reau and Dred Priest, were Death Watch sympathizers if not full on members. The other 10 have no stated allegiance but it’s my speculation that at least some of them were True Mandalorians under Jaster and Jango.

There are two whom I am almost certain were True Mandalorians. Kal Skirata is said to have known Jango for years, so he was obviously at least affiliated with the True Mandalorians. He was found by his adopted father, Munin Skirata, when Munin was on a mission with a group of mercenaries. My guess is those mercenaries were Jaster’s people, and possibly even included Jaster himself.

Rav Bralor was a close friend and comrade in arms of Kal Skirata’s long before Kamino, so obviously if he is a True Mandalorian, it stands to reason that she must have been one too.

There are two others who are potentially True Mandalorians. Llats Ward isn’t stated to have any particular affiliation but his chest plate has a whacking great mythosaur skull on it, which is the sigil of the True Mandalorians. Of course, it’s also just a generally important symbol in Mando culture, so Llats could have it on his armour for entirely different reasons.

Miij Gilmar, the trainer of the clone medics, wasn’t born a Mando but became one after he married a Mandalorian woman. She was murdered, unfortunately and he vowed revenge. It’s noted that he had a deep hatred for the death watch allied Dred Priest and Isabet Reau. My speculation is that his wife was killed by Death Watch and he may have joined (or already have been part of) the True Mandos to avenge her.

There is one more trainer I want to discuss in detail. His name is Cort Davin, and he was a Journeyman Protector on Concord Dawn. Obviously this is the same profession as Jaster and Fett Sr, so this suggests he may have been a colleague of theirs. It does seem that he stayed in the Journeyman Protectors until he was recruited into the Cuy’val Dar, so I don’t think he was a proper member of the True Mandos, but he could have been their ally.

We know virtually nothing of the remaining five named Mandos of the Cuy’val Dar, B’arin Apma, Swart Swifto, Wad’e Tayhaai, Vhonte Tervho and Walon Vau. I have no idea if any of these people were True Mandalorians. It’s possible.

A side tangent about Wad’e Tay’haai: one of the few things I could find about him is that his preferred weapons were a traditional Mando spear and a bes’bav. A bes’bav is a Mandalorian flute that doubles as a stabbing weapon. Of course the Mandos have a musical instrument that is also a weapon. Of course they do. It makes me wonder how many other musical weapons exist in Mando culture. And how many other things Mandos have made into weapons. Many, many things probably.

Anyways, this brings me onto the point of this post: why would any True Mandalorians would agree to train the clones despite it going against their well established code of protection over children? And how did Jango feel about these people that were once his?

It’s my personal speculation that any True Mandalorians that joined the Cuy’val Dar on Kamino did so for a number of reasons. The New Mandalorian pacifists were in charge on Mandalore, so anyone wishing to keep their culture couldn’t stay there. I can’t imagine that Mandalorians are welcomed in many places in the galaxy, so it’s possible some of them joined because it guaranteed a place to live and a source of income and food.

Some might have joined out of loyalty to Jango. Perhaps they thought he wouldn’t allow the clones to be treated badly and by the time it became apparent that he would, they couldn’t back out. Perhaps they wanted to help him and therefore help the clones.

I doubt any of them were actually told what they were being recruited for. It was a secret, after all, and I don’t think telling a bunch of Mandalorians ‘there’s a facility where they’re cloning children to be trained as child soldiers for a war in which they’re likely to die’ would go well.

Honestly, I just find the Cuy’val Dar quite interesting. Who are these people? Why did they agree to come to Kamino? What did they feel about the clones?

[omgspacecowboys]

Luke becomes mandalorian by marriage, he doesnt wear the full armor but part of it with the clan sigil, but has to stop wearing it onde djarin dies, thats why he doesnt wear anything onde the New movies

[fanaticsnail]

Snail! Happy not yet birthday! Please take my humble offering of some short Heat x Tobuio angst in our beloved Star Wars AU. I don't know of I wrote them good but this has been rotating in my head for the past two weeks and I needed to get it out. It's kind of unfinished but I still hope you like it at least a little. Kisses <33

Sometimes Heat thinks he wasn't built to carry two hearts.

It's basic Zabrak biology. Something unavoidable like the crown of horns on his head or the midichlorians in his blood. Inescapable like his dreams of a life differently led, of bright eyes and gentle laughter, cheeky remarks and warm lips.

He has built walls of beskar around himself, tall and cool like the paint on his armour. A fort made of the hardest of metals, woven thread by unforgiving thread through the flesh of his chest, protecting what is left of him in the cruelest of ways if only to numb the pain in his hearts with a greater one.

Her name is burnt on the inside of his chest plate. Repeated in the script of every language he knows in the hopes that it'll remain even after his soul has long faded away. Mandalorians don't get burials. The only thing they leave behind is their beskar’gam. And if the last monument of his life were to be a piece of metal, Heat would make it matter. And the only way it would matter is if she is here.

Even as the shadow of every dream he ever had.

The heat of the lightsaber burning his throat is nothing compared to the coldness of the eyes looking down at him. His helmet lost somewhere in the midst of the battle, blood running down his face as he stares back at her. Heat feels like a dying star in this moment, burning the last of her light before inevitably succumbing to the eternal darkness. Dark blue skin, long lekku held by a headpiece different than the one he had gifted her all those years ago, skin markings he is painfully familiar with, having mapped them with his fingers time and time again until they were everything he knew. The name weighs on his tongue, burns his larynx and suddenly hope feels like punishment because the woman behind the eyes is not her.

She is not his Tobiuo.

It's wrong. The tilt of her head, the calculative stare (when has she ever looked at him like that?), the stance, even the colour of the damn laser sword. He can vaguely recognise through the smoke the sigil of Trafalgar's gang of misfits embroidered on her tunic and it feels so wrong he wants to vomit.

(Is she always going to be on the enemy's side?)

“Who are you?” He croaks finally, dreading any possible answer. A ghost from the past that came back to haunt him in a torturous act only death and memory are capable of. A culmination of every broken vow and shattered promise.

No reply reaches his ears. There is only smoke, silence and the searing pain of the Jedi weapon.

The amount of times I have read this is insane. I had to put down my phone and sob for a little bit.

THIS IS AMAZING.

It's forbidden romance in the absolute best way, and I can't even think of the words to process it. The imagery of him looking up at her and seeking the love once found there, only to be met with a foreign coldness. I can't.

Twi'lek Jedi Tobiuo x Jabrak Mandalorian Heat is everything to me. This was so special to read, and I adore the way you've written from his perspective. Makes it feel all the more intimate.

I am going to reread this until the end of time.

[letoscrawls]

for your sketch suggestions: ideal designs for if you had mandalorian armor? (sigils, helmet style, color swatches, ect.) (hope you’re having a good day!)

ok i didn't color this but basically my armor would be very silly and a mix of all things i like + things i actually wear bc i'm broke and i can't afford a real style

also i figured out how to make pigtails like half an hour ago so you bet i would show them off through my helmet and wear cowboy pants because they are the coolest item on the planet. yeah i would be a clown on the battlefield and the first to die but this fit is for giggles not for work

[second-axis-point]

Pairing: Din Djarin x Male!Mando!Reader

Warning: None!

Content: Fluff

This is from Din’s perspective so the reader has a nickname. No use of y/n. Hope you guys enjoy!

Partners

Din had been so used to living alone that when another Mandalorian offered to join him in his travels, it took him a while to come to terms with it. The man was quiet and intelligent. He was a bit taller than him and had a broad frame. Din had watched the other hunter in action and was surprised he had never met him before. His reddish tinted beskar and durasteel armour looked similar to his own, Mandalorian sigil forged proudly on his shoulder.

Once Din had stepped on board, along with his new partner, he was pleasantly greeted by Grogu. He smiles under his helmet and leans down to pick the creature up. He turns to the other man and starts introductions.

“This is Grogu, Grogu this is…”

He pauses, releasing that he never got a name from the other hunter. He looks up from the little beast he held in his arms. A bit of tension left his shoulders when he heard the warrior laugh through his helmet and step a bit closer.

“Jackal. Nice to meet you little guy.”

Din watches as he leans down and reaches a hand to Grogu who giggles happily and grabs one of his gloved fingers. 

“You can get to know him after we get out of here. For now you should get familiar with the controls and layout of the ship.”

Jackal nods and Grogu releases his grip. Din puts him down and makes for the small area where he keeps his weapons. Jackal’s rifle is still clasped to his back and his blaster is still on his hip. He’d have to clear a spot for the other’s weapons. But for now, Din puts his stuff away and leads the man to the very front of the ship. When he hears Jackal’s footsteps become irregular, he looks back to see that Grogu has attached himself to the taller man's calf.

“Y’know it would be easier for both of you if you just picked him up.”

He heard Jackal stifle a laugh as he bent down to pick up the clingy child. Once he had Grogu securely in his arms, he continued on behind Din.

It took a few hours, but the three finally found a safe place to rest for a while. Jackal volunteered to stay up a bit longer due to the lack of space in the ship. Din felt sort of bad but trusted the man to his own devices. He tried to retreat back to his and Grogu’s cramped sleeping quarters but the little one refused to go with him. Grogu climbed up and forced himself into Jackal’s lap. He chuckled and told Din that it was okay and that he would watch over Grogu while he slept.

Din had slept through most of the night, only waking when he heard a quiet knock on the shudder. He opens it to see Jackal standing with a sleeping Grogu in his arms. He silently shuffled out of the sleeping area and offered it to the other. Jackal had a bit tougher time fitting in the makeshift bed but he made it work. Din stretched and prepared himself for the day.

Two years later, the three of you were still together. Din and Jackle had been dancing around their feelings for eachother for over half of it. They shared little moments here and there but never explicitly confronted the other about it. Neither of them wanted to ruin the partnership that they had been building. So feelings continue to go unacknowledged. At least they do until a bounty goes sideways and Jackal almost gets himself killed trying to save Din.

So they both sit in the Razor Crest, panting and bloody. The ship was completely silent besides the ragged breaths coming from the hunters. Grogu was safe and sound with Peli, far away from the shit storm the two created for themselves. Din noticed the stiff and pained posture Jackal had taken. He stood and walked over to the medical area, grabbing a kit, and bringing it back to Jackal.

Din assisted Jackal, laying him down on the floor, and taking his armour off. Albeit not being the cleanest place to tend to an open wound, it was all they had at the moment. With his chest piece off and his weapon put aside, Jackal helped pull the undershirt up enough so that Din could tend to his injury. He had a large vertical gash on his lower left abdomen. Din saw that his midsection was littered with varying healed scars.

He stitches up and bandages the slash before leaning back giving the other some breathing room. Sitting back on his heels, he watched Jackal’s chest rise and fall steadily. Jackal reaches a hand to Din, which he grasps in his own. He helped the man sit up and get up into the co-pilot’s seat in the control room. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes for the injured hunter and gave him some privacy to change. Din stood outside the door, nervously swaying back and forth.

He waited for Jackal to trudge out, hand on his side. Din let out a sigh of relief and offered Jackal his armour back. He didn’t put it back on, instead opting to set it aside and sitting back down in his seat with a groan. Din moved behind him, too restless to sit. He put his hand on the back of Jackal’s chair and spun it around. He wanted to make absolute sure that his partner was going to be okay.

Jackal tilted his head, confused. Din knelt down in front of him with his hands on both sides of the armrests. Jackal said nothing but leaned forward slightly. Din moved his hands down to Jackal’s knees, not pressing any further, just simply setting them there. Din could hear his breath hitch through his helmet. Jackal sat stiff and still until Din started to pull away. Neither man said anything. Jackal grabbed one of Din’s hands and pulled him up to eye level. Slowly leaning forward, Din gently touched his helmet to Jackal’s. He leaned back and sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

Jackal asked, genuinely concerned. Din looked up, and got an idea.

“Do you trust me?”

Din asked the man in front of him.

“With my life.”

The ease with which he said it made Din a bit dizzy.

“Sit tight.”

Din walked to the control panel and Jackal heard him flip a few switches. The lights dimmed and then turned off fully, leaving the men in almost complete darkness. Din carefully moved back in front of Jackal and kneeled in front of him once again. He slowly takes his helmet off and audibly sets it down, hoping Jackal knows what he’s implying. Luckily he does.

He hears Jackal take off his helmet and gently presses it into his hand for him to put down. After placing the helmet down next to his own, Din leaned back up. He stopped about an inch away, he could feel Jackal’s breath on his face.

“Is this okay?”

Din asked in a hushed tone. Instead of responding, Jackal closed the distance between them. The kiss is slow and meaningful. Almost two years of pent up feelings and unresolved tension shone through their intimacy. Jackal moved his hand up and rested it on the back of Din’s neck, the other cupped his jaw. Din tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Jackal was the first to pull away for air but Din didn’t want the kiss to end. He moved down to pepper Jackal’s neck in love bites and small kisses. Din felt a groan rumble in the back of Jackal’s throat. He finally pulled back and listened to the other man pant in the darkness. Din started to stand up but before he could, Jackal grabbed his hands once again. Only this time he pulled Din towards him.

Din was tugged into Jackal’s lap. Once he was comfortable and not anywhere near Jackal’s injury, Din grabbed both sides of his face and yanked him in again. This time their kiss was more heated. Hands wandered. They both made the most of it since they were probably never going to see each other's faces. Jackal felt the stubble on Din’s face, and ran his fingers through his soft hair.

Although Din couldn’t see, he could imagine what the man in front of him looked like. Flushed cheeks with half-lidded and glossed over eyes. He felt as his cheeks started to burn at the thought. Din was shocked back into reality by a pained groan coming from Jackal. He jumped out of the man’s lap and apologised for losing focus.

“It’s alright Din I’m okay. But maybe we should take a little break for today.”

Jackal chuckled lightly and Din smiled into the darkness. Din fumbled around the ground and grabbed the helmets, putting his on and handing Jackal his. Once both of the Mandalorians were covered, Din slowly turned the lights back on. He saw Jackal, still seated, with his clothes a bit ruffled. He was breathing a bit heavier than normal but other than that he looked okay. He walked back over and offered to lead the fellow hunter back to the makeshift bed with a concealed smile. Jackal accepted his offer gratefully, and the two packed themselves in the small space. They both slept peacefully for the first time in years.

[burnwater13]

Image shows the Mandalorian Armorer training Din Djarin in the use of the Darksaber. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 5, Return of The Mandalorian. Calendar from DateWorks. Caption reads: Persistence without insight will lead to the same outcome. Your body is strong, but your mind is distracted. - The Armorer.

NOTE: This image does not go with the quote. The Armorer stops the lesson because the Mandalorian keeps fighting the Darksaber. Disneyplus is being a butt, so I couldn't get a good screen photo. Apologies.

Grogu wondered if the Armorer had once studied at the Jedi Temple. She sure sounded like a Jedi at times. This whole thing about “persistence without insight” gave him strong ‘do or do not’ Master Yoda vibes. He supposed it was possible that she could have gained access to Jedi teaching materials when she lived on Concordia. 

Given how the Jedi had a bad tendency to lose things they brought with them from the Temple (looking at you Obi-Wan Kenobi), Grogu didn’t doubt for a minute that a holocron or two may have ended up somewhere they shouldn't have. After all, Mandalorians didn’t use lightsabers. How could she possibly have taught his dad how to use the Darksaber? But a holocron wouldn’t care about who it taught. The Jedi just liked teaching.

And her next comment about Din Djarin being distracted was a huge tell. The Mandalorian only had one reason to be distracted and that one reason was Grogu. He was spending the summer at Luke's Jedi Sleep Away Camp on Ossus and his dad missed him, like any good dad would. That, of course, was another tell tale from Jedi teachings… thinking family was a distraction and that finishing a quest was the same as never having a family to begin with. Din Djarin couldn’t get rid of his responsibilities that easily. No dad could.

Which the Armorer would know if she really followed the Creed. Grogu was a foundling. Din Djarin had rescued him. That meant that the Mandalorian was stuck with him and Grogu knew that the Armorer knew that. Only a Jedi would have found a bunch of technical reasons for why that couldn't work. Things like ‘the boy’s too old’ and ‘he’s too attached to his friends’ and ‘he eats too much, he’ll break our budget’… wait, not that last one. That was what the head chef at the Jedi Temple had said when Ian commented that he wished he could clone Grogu just to watch him race himself eating.

So if the Armorer wasn’t really a Mandalorian and was actually a Jedi, how did she learn to be an armorer? She clearly knew her trade. Grogu had watched her make things several times. The sigil for Din Djarin. His rondel. The expertise and skill were on display right in front of him every day. Hmmm. Was she some sort of undercover agent? A sleeper Jedi sent to Mandalore to learn the ways of an enemy that the Jedi seemed to fight almost every time they turned around? 

Grogu supposed that was possible, but not terribly likely. At least not the spy part. It was just as likely that she had become dissatisfied with the Jedi Order and all the rules you had to follow and decided she liked the Mandalorian galactic view better… nah, that didn’t make sense.  Mandalorians had twice as many rules as the Jedi did. No taking the helmet off. No fighting with other Mandalorians (which they seemed absolutely incapable of following). No bringing dishonor to Mandalore (another thing they all seemed to fail at). Their whole Creed was a rule book with one saying to rule them all ‘This is the Way’. 

It had taken Grogu a while to work out that ‘This is the Way’ was something you said to acknowledge that you would follow the path agreed upon regardless of how fool hardy or dangerous it was. This is the Way. No other path would do. If you didn't follow it you couldn’t be a Mandalorian. Every time it was said it reinforced the behavior and that's just what the Creed wanted. If you were trying to get away from the Jedi code, order, rulebook, what have you, running to the Mandalorians wasn’t really very likely. Unless you liked a challenge.

Which meant that as much like the Jedi the Armorer was in her words and actions, it seemed pretty far fetched that she had ever been a Jedi. Then how the heck did she know so many Jedi-ish things? Was she a fan? Some times people did that. You were a fan of a group or a person or a culture and you did everything you could to learn about them, visit them, act like them, be them - in an honorable way, not in a fake identity way. 

For example, Grogu was a huge fan of Diggle and Daggle, the Fish that fish. He watched all of their vids, had seen every interview, collected what ever he could fit on a datapad if it was about them. They were the best and he often wished he could be just like them. Sitting in a small repulsor boat with fishing gear, snacks, and an endless knowledge of every type of fish, crustacean, cetacean, mollusk, bivalve, watery critter virtually everywhere in the known galaxy.  Spending your entire day and sometimes the whole night with your best friend fishing and chatting about the fish you hoped to catch. 

One year, when he was still at the Jedi Temple, he had made a ‘Daggle’ costume. It was so funny. The fins and tail moved independently of each other and the scales were shiny and kind of iridescent. Ian had helped him make it, even though he absolutely refused to be ‘Diggle’. Instead he was their ‘A&R’ guy and wore a badge on a lanyard with ‘Diggle and Daggle, the Fish that fish’ written on it, and walked around with a datapad, while he pretended to talk to someone on a comm unit. Grogu’s favorite moment was when Master Beq congratulated them on their work. They had been assigned to represent ‘Present Day Heroes’. Diggle and Daggle brought people across the galaxy so much joy, Master Beq agreed they were definitely heroes.

Maybe that was what the Armorer was doing. She wasn’t an actual Jedi, but secretly she was fan of how they did certain things… mostly.  She couldn’t wear a Master Yaddle costume, it would be too small for one thing, but she could honor the Jedi master by honoring the lessons that Mandalorians and Jedi had in common. Honor. Skill. Responsibility. You didn't have to be a Jedi to appreciate their good points, even if you didn’t wear a cloak and carry a lightsaber, just like you didn't have to be a fish, to fish.