#mandalorian agriculture

[ranahan]

Random thought:

Do you ever think Mandalorians might have practiced slash and burn agriculture? And that one incarnation of Kad Ha’rangir, the god of destruction and growth and change, might have been a fertility and agriculture god?

Slash and burn agriculture can be sort of a seminomadic life, since jungle soils are actually very thin and the cleared plot only gives good yields for a few years, after which the group has to move on and clear a new plot.

[rinixo]

wisdom tells me to turn away

Din Djarin/Reader | 4.8k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, angst, angst and emotional comfort, sexual content, piv sex, ‘outercourse’, alluded to breeding kink, vague age difference

Being a non-Mandalorian makes navigating your relationship with Din difficult. Being the only non-Mandalorian on Mandalore makes navigating your relationship with Din even more difficult. Non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi. read on ao3

Despite being in ruins, Mandalore was still beautiful. Nature curled around the rubble everywhere you looked, moss and roots slowly reclaiming the ruined city. You strolled through what used to be busy streets, trying to pass as much time as you could before you had no choice but to return to the Mandalorian headquarters.

You had been on the planet for three days, and you had spent most of your time wandering around. From the moment you had landed you had felt uncomfortable. You were watched constantly by the helmeted forces, and the feeling of being distrusted permeated every brief interaction you had with every person you had met. Part of you understood why – Mandalore had been destroyed by outsiders, but it was still not easy to navigate.

Din had wanted to return here. His loyalty to his people was still a core tenant of who he was, and now that the child had chosen to stay with him, he was able to focus on helping his people rebuild. The weapon he had won from Moff Gideon had also thrust him into a position of authority that most of the other Mando’s deferred to. Having him and the Darksaber here helped bolster the recovery efforts, and every day new Mandalorian refugees arrived on planet from every corner of the galaxy.

You had agreed to join him on this journey, partly out of affection for him and partly out of curiosity. Your academic interest had quickly faded once you were on the planet, as what little historical information that remained was heavily guarded and off-limits to non-Mandalorians. Din had advocated on your behalf, and you had been allowed access to some records, but it was mostly agricultural-based, like crop yields and trading figures. You had quickly grown bored of it. Now the main reason you stayed was because Din was here and, well – it’s not like you had your own ship to leave on.

Pausing in your walk, you looked up to the sky and sighed. Dusk was approaching, and you knew you should head back before it got too dark out, but the thought of spending another long, lonely night wasn’t particularly exciting. Din’s days had been spent with the leaders of the Mandalorian forces, planning and building and talking about who knows what. Your room was small and not near Din’s, and while it hadn’t been explicitly said, spending the nights with him did not seem like an option. Just like your presence on the planet, your attachment to the man wasn’t particularly welcome.

Your partnership had bloomed into a sort of relationship, one you weren’t sure how to classify. In the moments you two were entangled in the dark, you felt like more than just lovers. There was a reverence in how Din made love to you, making you feel like the center of his universe. However, in the light of the day, to the eyes of outsiders, the two of you were little more than traveling companions – partly for safety, and partly because neither of you knew how to make it go further.

Now here, on Mandalore, that distance felt like it was widening by the second. You had seen only glimpses of the man over the past couple of days – he was up before the sun rose and was still out by the time you found yourself wandering back to your own sleeping space. Grogu was also spending most of his time with Din, leaving you to fend for yourself.

The rational part of you knew he wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. You had been in his life for such a short time, and you knew that if you were in his position you would also want to spend time with the people who shared your culture.

However, you also found yourself simmering with a mixture of emotions you were afraid to give names to. Earlier you had seen Din standing around a table with a group of other armored and armed Mandalorians. The lilt in your heart at seeing him was quickly overtaken by a pang of jealousy at the way a female Mandalorian gestured at something on the table to Din, leaning in close enough that her arm brushed his.

Part of you wanted desperately to make your way to his side, stake a personal claim and be claimed by him in return. You had gotten used to being the center of his attention while traveling together, and while you told yourself he still cared for you, you wanted him to show it.

You didn’t know the ins and outs of Mandalorian culture, and what information existed that was accessible to you was not very enlightening. Based on your interactions with Din, you surmised that family and clan were very important. His devotion to Grogu was evidence enough of that, as well as the way the three of you often found yourselves helping others no matter where you went. Yet there were still questions that lingered about your specific relationship with Din.

You still had never seen his face. When you slept together, it was always in the dark, and most of the time he remained more clothed than you. He was not shy when it came to touching you when the two of you were alone in the dark, but there was a kind of unspoken agreement that personal affection ended once the lights were on. You didn’t know if this would eventually change, or even if it could. There was an undercurrent of forbidden-ness that permeated your relationship, stemming from his isolationist cultural values and your careful tiptoeing around not making him feel like he needed to betray what he stood for in order to satisfy you.

You wondered if there were texts you could access in the limited library here at the compound that would give you answers to your questions. I should just ask him, you had told yourself more than once, but it never happened. Having that conversation would answer your questions, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear those answers. Perhaps finding that information in texts would be easier for you to bear, or at least prepare you for a true conversation about whatever future Din saw between the two of you.

Making your way back towards the makeshift repository, you felt the eyes of the armed guards follow you the entire way. You weren’t entirely sure what they thought you might get up to – it wasn’t like you had any weapons – but they treated you like a threat. If it wasn’t so intimidating, it would make you laugh.

The repository – a side room filled with locked cabinets and server towers – was gloriously empty when you arrived. There were usually one or two miscellaneous Mando’s in here, carefully sorting through information or stacking whatever was recovered for future sorting by someone else. The day was slowly ending, and you knew most of the forces here would be settling in for a meal. You being here meant you’d have to settle for whatever was left over tonight, but you were willing to pay that price for the chance of a few uninterrupted minutes of data hunting.

You started with the servers, knowing you it would take less time to search a digital collection that through physical ones and the longer you stayed, the higher the chance of someone coming in and yelling at you. Connecting your data pad, you ran a search for all ‘culture’ related queries you could think of. Surprisingly, you got several hits that seemed to be relevant. Feeling nervous, you quickly downloaded copies to your personal device and disconnected, taking extra care to wipe what evidence you could of your access to the server. Years of hacking into secure systems searching for data your institution deemed out of your pay grade had given you more than enough skills to erase your trail from most casual observers.

Pleased with your finds, you hurried back to your rooms for a quick shower and some intense studying time.

--

After showering quickly, you returned to your room. It was little more than a side closet, big enough for a low cot and a small chest of your belongings. You settled in, a warm cup of caf at your side, and began looking over the information you found.

The more you read, the more questions you had. A lot of the information was secondhand, histories and tales taken from oral sources and documented digitally for preservation. It wasn’t the goldmine of direct answers you were looking for, but you did find a few key points, some of which both confused and concerned you. The little information you found mentioned something called the ‘Six Actions’, as well as basic expectations about family and relationships. It wasn’t anything groundbreaking in any particular direction, but you were left with more curiosity about where you stood in Din’s life. It was looking like you’d have to be brave and ask him yourself.

Not willing to spend another night with your anxious thoughts, you decided to go to him as soon as you could. You waited a few hours, until all but those on watch duty would be asleep. Wrapping your linen shawl over your head and shoulders, you slipped quietly out of your room, hurrying as quietly as you could towards Din’s room. Thankfully you did not see anyone in the ten or so minutes it took you to make your way across the small compound. You found the door you were looking for, and lightly knocked.

Half a second pause, and then the door slid up, revealing Din. He was still armored head to toe. He said your name softly, almost as if a question. Wringing your hands, you suddenly felt shy.

“Can I come in?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. Din immediately stepped to the side to let you in. You pulled your shawl down over your head, and shook out your hair. You looked around the room, immediately noticing it was both larger and more kitted out than the closet you had been shoved into.

“Are you alright?” Din asked, breaking the silence. You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Yeah,” you replied. You wanted to talk, to spill every thought that had been in your mind for the past few days, but the words died in your throat as emotion built. Something about being here in the same room as him made you feel more upset than not being around him. Seeing him, being in the same room as him made facing the reality of getting answers to the questions you had about your relationship seem harder every moment.

Din stepped towards a small table in the middle of the room, and pulled out a chair. You managed to step the short distance towards him, and took the seat he offered. He backed up towards a small ledge, leaning against it and crossing his arms in a familiar shielding gesture. Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Grogu’s cradle, the lid shut. You were glad he wasn’t awake for this conversation, as you suspected it would have made it that much harder.

“How have you been?” You asked quietly, taking your turn to break the silence. Din shrugged casually with one shoulder.

“Busy,” he replied. “There’s so much going on. I knew it would be a lot, but every day there’s something new.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say. You didn’t want to ask him specifics on what he was doing. You didn’t want to hear about all the time he was spending away from you, from whatever was so engrossing he hadn’t even thought to check in on you for days. All you had done over the past few days was think about him. You bounced your leg, partly out of nervousness, partly for something to channel your energy in to so that you wouldn’t burst into angry tears.

Clearing his throat, Din adjusted his stance slightly. He was obviously uncomfortable with your silence. “Ah…and you?” He finally asked. “How have you been?”

You let out a choked laugh. “Oh, fine,” you answered, trying and failing to keep the bitter tone out of your voice. “I spend the first half of the day wandering around the rubble while armed guards stare at me through blaster sights, and the second half I spend staring up at the ceiling of the closet I sleep in.”

A modulated sigh. “I-I’m sorry,” he placated. “I told them you were with me, that you didn’t need to be watched, but they’re…” he trailed off. You nodded, eyes trained on his boots and bit your lip as you chewed on a million different responses.

“I know,” you finally replied. “I get it. I’m an outsider. I’m not a warrior or a bounty hunter. There’s not a lot I can do to be useful to you all.”

“That’s not true,” Din countered. “You’ve been a big help to me, and to Grogu.” That got a slight smile from you, and you looked up at him.

“Thanks…but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Do you need a reason to be?” Din asked, and your heart twinged.

You wondered how best to approach this topic. Being here made you want to pretend all of your worries were gone and fall in to his arms, but you knew that once the night was over you’d go back to being alone again, with all of the same questions still stuck in your throat.

“Where do we go from here?” You looked up at him. The ‘we’ was whatever your entanglement was, beyond being traveling companions and occasional bedfellows. Would you land in the same place, your roots entwined with one another’s? Or was this the beginning of a slow end, with you parting ways towards separate futures?

“What do you mean?” Din answered.

“Us,” you expanded. “Do you…how do you feel about us? Where does this lead?”

A quick note of silence. “I’m not sure what you’re asking. Where is this coming from?” Din shifted in posture, arms still crossed in front of him.

“I was reading,” you went on, “About Mandalorian culture. I know how I feel, but I wanted to understand how you feel. About us.

“I care for you,” Din said softly yet firmly, but that wasn’t what you wanted, and the hurt in your expression told him so.

“You can’t say it-“

“Why does it need naming?” Din challenged after a moment. “Isn’t it enough, just to have it?”

“No, it’s not!” You raised your voice for the first time, anger and hurt flashing from your eyes. “You can’t – you can’t just kiss me, and fuck me, and whisper sweet things to me in the dark and –“

“That’s-“

“Is it so shameful?” You interrupted, vision blurry from emotion. “That I can’t even spend the night on the same side of the building as you?”

Din sighed, hands going to his hips in flustered frustration. “No, it’s-“

“I’m not a Mandalorian,” you finished for him.

A pause. “No,” Din agreed slowly. “You’re not.”

He pulled out the companion to the chair you were in, and sat in front of you. Even in the low light, the brilliance of his armor was enough for you to see your own trembling form reflected back at you.

“And I’m…not sure I want to be one,” you added hoarsely.

I don’t know if I can live this life.

The silence was painful. You wished for the millionth time that the stupid helmet wasn’t on his face so that you could get a glimpse of his reactions. There you were, laying your heart out bare in front of him, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, and he sat like a statue.

“I have been selfish,” Din finally answered. “The creed does not approve of relationships between a Mandalorian and one who is not, or one who is not planning to be part of the culture.”

You let out a pained laugh as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand. “You are ashamed of us.”

“No, no,” Din corrected. He leaned forward and reached for one of your hands. You allowed him to grasp it, the warmth of his skin coming through the worn leather gloves. His thumb brushed over your chilled skin, and you sniffled as you watched the motion, unable to stare at your reflection in his helmet.

“I care for you. Deeply. You make me want things I’d never thought I’d have.” His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “I’ve been selfish, I-I knew that this wasn’t fair to you. That I couldn’t ask you make that kind of choice.”

“But you did,” you choked out. “Isn’t that what this is?”

Din squeezed your hand. “The creed is important to me,” he continued. “I can’t just let it go.”

You closed your eyes tightly, feeling tears squeeze through and trail down your cheeks. “So you’re letting me go.”

“No, mesh’la. I can’t.” A short exhale of a modulated laugh. “Stars, I can’t. I told myself that every time would be the last time, but I just can’t let you go.” Din’s hands went up to cradle the side of your face, and he gently thumbed away your tears.

“I won’t make you stay,” he continued. “If you want to leave. You are young, and your life is more open than mine ever was.” You looked up at him, vision blurred by emotion.

“But I want to make this work,” Din confessed. “I want to make us work.” Your lower lip trembled, and he brushed a thumb over it softly.

“Wh-what would that look like?” You asked, voice wavering slightly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “There’s more to being a Mandalorian than I could have known. Learning – and unlearning – will not be easy. And I can’t promise that it will be quick. But if it’s the difference between having you, and not…” Din trailed off.

“Do you want to leave?” He asked quietly.

“No,” you relented at last. “I don’t.”

Din let out the breath he was holding, and leaned back in his chair.

“I’m glad.”

“I can’t really fight, or repair buildings,” you went on. “I don’t know if being a Mandalorian is what I want…but I don’t think I can stand one more night of sleeping by myself in that closet.”

Another short bark of a laugh. “No, sweet girl. I’ve missed you in my bed these past few nights.”

You ducked your head shyly again, a smile across your lips. “Oh?”

His response was to stand, and reach for your hand. You let him pull you to your feet, and shuffle you towards his sleeping area. He had a real bed. A big one.

A few button pushes on his wrist, and the lights in the room dimmed. You allowed him to help you undress to your base layers, and fell against the bed as he turned off the lights and began to take his armor off.

You curled up on your side, one hand under your cheek, and the other on the pillow. You heard him finish disrobing and pad his way to the other side of the bed to crawl in next to you. One of his hands, warm and calloused, reached over to cup your cheek gently.

“I did miss you,” he confessed. “Over these past few days. Grogu did too.”

You felt his fingers trace the smile on your lips. “Did you miss me, or did you miss me distracting him while you worked?” Your own hands went to the side of his neck as you scooted closer to him. Your played with the soft curls at the base of his neck, the stubble on his face scratching your wrist.

“That too,” he concedes, and you chuckled. You can feel his pulse in his throat, a steady beat as his arms move to pull you in closer. Sometimes, when he holds you, it feels like he won’t be satisfied until you’re pulled completely inside of him.

“You’re a father now,” you tease, and his hand grips your side a little harder. “You’ll need to learn to discipline him better.”

“And what do you know about discipline?” He breathes against your mouth. Angling your face to press a kiss to the side of his lips, you nuzzle your nose against his, just barely out of reach.

Your mouth meeting his is your answer. The scruff of his facial hair is a welcome feeling against your cheek and your chin, and you place once hand on his chest while the other scratches at the base of his neck. One of your legs is hoisted up over his hip, and his hands go to your ass to pull you against him. You let out a muffled gasp at the feeling of his erection against your clothed cunt.

The two of you rock back and forth, devouring each other in an attempt to fill the longing within. Breaking away from his mouth for half a second, you roll yourself onto his lap, thighs spread over his lower abdomen, hands splayed on his broad chest.

“Down,” you command breathlessly as you feel Din tense under you. You tug on the loose linen shirt he wears, and he obliges and helps you pull it off over his head. You trace his pulse from his neck down to his chest, nails scratching him lightly. That pulls a small groan from him, and you shuffle your hips so that your core bumps against where his cock strains against his linen pants.

“Girl,” he warns you lowly, but you ignore him as you reach behind you to free him from his clothing before slipping off your own shorts. His cock thuds heavy against his abdomen, and you place the seat of your pussy over his pulsing length,

You slowly slide up and down the length of him, enjoying the way the thick head of his cock parts your lips and bumps against your sensitive clit.

“Fucking hell,” Din spits, and you feel him throw his head back against the pillow. His hands come up to grab your waist, but you refuse his attempt to direct your movements and remove them. Your pace remains steady as you continue to slide him through your slick center, enjoying the tortured groans your work elicits from the man.

You circle your hips so that the head of his cock – twitching and leaking – bumps rhythmically against your clit. Your hands steady yourself on his chest, mouth opening in a breathy whimper. There’s a knot of frisson building, centered where your bodies meet.

“Gonna cum on my cock?” Din groans, voice thick with desperation. You scratch your nails on his chest, hyper focused on the way he throbs against you. “Fucking hell, I can feel you dripping on me, you wicked girl-“

“Mmm!” You can’t speak, afraid to break the high prematurely. You grind yourself down on him, leaning forward to rest your forehead on his collarbone.

“Yes, good girl, use me,” he growls again. “Be a good girl, cum on my cock, and I’ll fill you up-“

You fall over the edge, mouth opening into a silent ‘oh’ pressed against his thrumming heartbeat. Your lower body shakes with your release, hips stuttering to break their rhythmic pattern.

Din doesn’t let you come down from it before he’s taking himself in his fist and aligning himself up to the entrance of your cunt. Your voice returns in a wail as he shifts his hips up at the same time he pulls your waist down so that he’s filling you up completely.

“This is why I can’t let you go,” he groans, tilting his hips up so that the head of him kisses your cervix. “You’re too fucking perfect, you take my cock like you’re made for it-“

A cry of pleasure is caught in your throat and turns into half a sob as he maneuvers your waist. His legs come up for leverage so he can piston up into you. Despite the possessive way he words it, you can hear the awe in the timbre of his voice, feel the desperation in how he fucks you. The first couple of times the two of you slept together you could tell he was holding back. He only took you from behind, and you had to gently coax him to touch you in places other than your hips. You weren’t sure if it was due to shyness or inexperience, or just the result of being a man who didn’t allow himself any kind of pleasure beyond that which what would serve his clan.

Here though, in the dark, he let go. Fucking from behind turned into him tangling himself into you, holding your shoulder so you didn’t hit your head against the metal wall of his cot as he pounded your poor cunt relentlessly. Restrained moans turned into him whispering filthy, adoring praise into your ears. Turned in to him almost giving name to the desires you pulled out of the depths of his being.

“You make me want things I shouldn’t,” he grunts, taking the chance to flip your bodies so that he was above you. You arch your back with a moan, and Din mouths wetly up from your breasts to your exposed neck, not once stopping the slap of his pelvis against you.

You grasp lamely at his shoulders as he hoists one of your legs up to his side. He grinds himself inside of you. You know what he is alluding to when he says things like that. You can tell by the way he used you. Sex itself was more than just pleasure for him. It was also the base purpose of binding the two of you together, the ache of wanting to flood your womb, and to bask in the consequences. You wonder if he does it consciously, or if it’s just the heat of the moment, but something about how it leaves him it makes it feel like more than just dirty talk.

��You’re perfect,” he puffs against your mouth. You’re on the edge of another orgasm, relishing in the way he fills you. You’re more reluctant to voice what he asks of your body, and instead urge him on by the way you angle your hips so he can hit as deep as possible, all but begging him to fill you up. You don’t know what it would mean, if it took. For the two of you, or the creed, but the way it drove his passion made you want to find out.

Din groans, and you feel him twitch up inside of you. “Cum on my cock,” he demands. One of his thumbs comes down to press against your clit, and you shriek, still sensitive from your first orgasm. You hear him curse as your core pulses around him, and he holds your hips still as his own orgasm approaches and he ruts deeper.

“That’s it,“ he pants, and pulls you closer, cock creating a seal against your cervix. “Fucking stars. Take my seed, sweet girl, good girl-“

You choke out his name as he buries his face into the side of your neck, holding your hips to his own as he pulses his release inside of you. Your legs shake from exertion, trembling in his grasp as he holds himself inside you, cock still pulsing thick streams of white. You close your eyes, lost in a fog of ectasy.

The two of you stay like that for a while, the tight seal of your pussy reluctant to let go of him. When he finally raises himself off of you, you whimper at the loss of his warmth. He leaves the bed with a groan, and padded somewhere off in the dark. You pant, trying to calm your breathing and settle down.

Din returns, and sits next to you on the bed. He murmurs something lowly that you don’t quite catch, and you feel something warm and damp against your skin. Gently, he wipes a cloth against your thighs and your sensitive core, and then up and over your breast and collar. He follows the cloth with his mouth. He leaves lingering kisses up the center of your breastbone, to the side of your jaw, to your mouth, and to your forehead.

“I’m ok,” you let out a hoarse whisper, and feel him smile.

 “Just ok?”

You snort, and smack his shoulder lightly. “You know what I meant.”

He sighs contently, laying so that your heads were sharing the same pillow. He holds your legs with one hand, thumb brushing over the skin there.

The two of you lay there in comfortable silence, on the edge of sleep. You think about the things both said and unsaid.

“Is it going to be a problem if I sleep here?” You ask quietly. Din lets out a breath.

“No,” he responded. “And even if it was, I don’t care.”

“I don’t want to make things more complicated for you.”

Din laughs, but there is only affection in it.

“Sweet girl, you already have.”

 --

[starwarsanthropology]

Fuck Canon Tiingilar

i hate the canon tiingilar recipe with my whole heart. Look at this (original source Galaxy's Edge cookbook). This is supposed to be "blisteringly spicy Mandalorian stew or casserole"? This is a mild chicken curry.

It sounds good, but it's not the rich, spicy, flavor-packed mandalorian stew of my dreams.

Let's start by breaking down the etymology of tiingilar.

Tiingilar is broken into 3 parts: Tiin, gi, and lar.

Tiin is an underived form of tiin'la, or coarse.

Gi is the word for fish.

Lar is a bit up in the air; it could be related to laar, for sing (which anyone who's seen someone bite into something spicier than they can handle can understand), or galar, for spill/pour (makes sense for stew), or even olar for "here", which I suppouse could be extrapolated to mean "whatever is here" for a stew which has flexible ingredients.

But the really important bits are the "tiin" and the "gi"! The first chunk of tiingilar means "coarse/rough fish(y)".

The other food word we have with "gi" in it from canon mando'a is "gihaal", (which, hilariously, breaks down into fish-breath), a pungent fishmeal. It's long lasting and stable which means its probably a staple ration food. It sounds like it'd put most people off at first, but given mandalorian tastes prioritize strong flavors (draluram), possibly including pungent flavors, and "richly nourishing" foods (yaiyai) it's probably a pretty common ingredient.

Guess what fishmeal is! A very high protein (typically 50-60%, but up to 70% for some varieties!), nutritionally dense, and coarsely textured! It's used in any cuisines; some is processed for human consumption but I cannot find any sources that use it in food except in research aiming to combat malnutrition (shout out to researchers at the Abeokuta University of Agriculture for being the best resource about fishmeal in food!). Although we can't know that gihaal would be the same as our version of fishmeal (which is normally processed from whole fish), I think that we can assume that mando'ade woudn't be skimping on the inclusion of bone, which include a lot of valuable nutrients, and would make it coarse.

So, gihaal is a pungent, likely coarse fishmeal that is a staple nutritional supplement in, at minimum, field cookery. It would make nutritionally-dense, protein packed, and strongly flavored base for tiingilar. Makes sense linguistically and practically for mandalorians to build their cooking around nutritionally valuable and shelf-stable rations.

Which brings me to the mandalorian values in food! Draluram (bright mouth: intense, bold flavors), heturam (spicy as in heat burning in the mouth), hetikleyc (spicy as in sinus burn), and yai'yai (richly nourishing, which I personally take to mean both nutritionally dense and satiating) are the 4 canon words that express the priorities in mandalorian cuisine.

These values fit in with the inclusion of gihaal as a base for tiingilar, adding yai'yai if not draluram, but where's my spice? Where's my layers of spice, the sharp sinus burn that makes your eyes water and the creeping warmth that leaves you panting and the bright heat and the numbing and tingling sensation at your lips?

Definitely not in that yellow curry recipe.

The inclusion of ginger and cinnamon (from garam masala) are both nice, but think bigger and broader! Obviously, we don't have mandalorian herbs, but add spice with chilies, cayenne, ginger, horseradish, mustard seeds, sichuan pepper! Bring out warming spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, star anise! Highlight the different elements of spice and warmth and flavor with enthusiasm and delight!

As for draluram, I think the pungent flavor of fish is a nice, bold addition to something for a unique flavor, but let's not forget other players. Aliums like garlic and onions are always lovely, but what about citrus? If mandalorians have behot, what's stopping you from adding in citrus juice or peel or some kaffir lime leaves? What about strong bitter flavors from vegetables you choose, like mustard greens or kale, or the rich savory taste of browned meats if you want more protein in your dish?

Yai'yai, we have a good base of protein and fat and nutritional content from the fishmeal, but why not build it out? Add sugar, both to balance flavors and because energy is energy and mandalorians certainly like their sweets. Fats and oils, other meats and proteins, vegetables and carbs. Add nuts, peanut butter, sesame for added bulk and another element of flavour. I want to see an end product that sticks to your ribs, that makes me skip seconds on not because I don't want more, but because I'm full on one serving.

Back to the etymology. Mild chicken curry is not tiin, nor does it have gi. It's fairly yai'yai, got decent draluram, negligible heturam, and no hetikleyc.

Tiingilar with a gihaal base (in irl cooking, any kind of fish base) and heavier seasoning to add multiple kinds of heat would fit all of those categories so much better.

So I guess in the end, I'm saying I don't have an idea of tiingilar as any one recipe, but tiingilar as a general dish that leans into mandalorian food culture and the literal meaning of the word. Maybe it's little gritty and somewhat fishy, but it's a rich and spicy and flavorful meal you can make with whatever on hand as long as you have a handful of staples.

Sources:

Adegoke, Bakare & Adeola, Abiodun & Otesile, Ibijoke & Adewale, Obadina & Afolabi, Wasiu & Adegunwa, Mojisola & Akerele, Rachael & Bamgbose, Olaoluwa & Alamu, Emmanuel. (2020). Nutritional, Texture, and Sensory Properties of composite biscuits produced from breadfruit and wheat flours enriched with edible fish meal. Food Science & Nutrition. 8. 1-21. 10.1002/fsn3.1919.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fish_meal

https://mandocreator.com/tools/dictionary/index.html# for mando'a translations and definitions

https://www.reddit.com/r/Mandalorian/comments/mp1x7o/recipe_for_tiingilar_medium_heat_add_garlic/ for the recipe

[panakinthedisco]

Nibiru.

A planet untouched by the oppressive grip of the Galactic Empire, standing steadfast against the storms of tyranny and whispers of fear. Nibiru's strength is legendary, an impregnable bastion of courage in a galaxy often overshadowed by darkness. Their defiance earned its admiration from the farthest reaches of the Outer Rim to the beating heart of the Inner Rim, a beacon of loyalty and resilience.

Such tales of valor and fortitude fascinated Amalteya Romée, a woman whose heart and mind were cultivated as tenderly as the fields she nurtured. An agriculturist by trade and spirit, she was destined for greatness — poised to lead her field and her people as the head of a ministry dedicated to the lifeblood of the galaxy: agriculture. But Amalteya's soul carried more than expertise; it bore the weight of compassion for a galaxy scarred by the Empire's shadow.

The New Republic rose from the ashes of oppression, a hopeful yet fragile dawn that demanded innovation and unity. Amalteya gave herself fully to the cause, working tirelessly to heal famine-stricken worlds and bring abundance to planets ravaged by war. Yet, her unwavering kindness became a target for those who clung to the past. The remnants of Empire loyalists schemed, their poisoned whispers framing Amalteya as a conspirator against the New Republic.

Betrayal came from the unlikeliest of places — her own sister, Avaria. Accused of treachery and stripped of her position, Amalteya was cast out from the world she loved. Yet even in exile, she held fast to the lessons of her mother: that kindness, like the tiniest seed, could grow even in the most desolate soil.

Her faith was tested when a Mandalorian, his armor glinting with the resolve of a bounty hunter, came to claim her life. Din Djarin was a man forged by hardship, his heart a fortress of cold steel. But fate had other plans. Captured by her allies and imprisoned, the Mandalorian found himself observing Amalteya from the shadows, drawn to her quiet strength and unyielding grace. He, a man accustomed to survival, was captivated by a woman who fought not with weapons, but with hope and compassion.

And she, in turn, saw something extraordinary in him. Beneath the beskar-clad exterior was a protector, a guardian of a small green child whose innocence belied the chaos of the galaxy. Din's stoic nature began to fracture under Amalteya's gentle gaze, her warmth seeping into the cracks of his soul.

In a galaxy torn asunder by old loyalties and new deceptions, their bond grew like a fragile vine reaching toward the sun. Amalthea became his peace, a soft haven in a universe that had offered him none. And Din became her strength, a steadfast defender willing to confront the darkness that threatened to consume her.

For Din Djarin, Amalteya Romée was more than an exiled minister — she was the light he never thought he deserved. And for Amalteya, Din was not just a protector, but a promise that even in the harshest soil, love could bloom.

Together, they forged a sanctuary amid the chaos, proving that even in the cold expanse of space, hearts could find warmth, and even the most unlikely souls could find home in one another.

Because for Din Djarin, Amalteya Romée is worth fighting for.

pairings: din djarin x original character / original characters x canon characters

warnings: major character deaths (oop!) and violence

author's notes: this is a slowburn romance for dinteya! and this is the overall gist of their dynamics:

other notes: most of the graphics of this fic are made by me unless its stated.

AVAILABLE ON WATTPAD & AO3

MASTERLIST OF THE CHAPTERS

SEE BELOW THE SPOTIFY PLAYLISTS OR YOU CAN VISIT MY ACCOUNT.

☆ MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION | SOCIALS | SIGN OFF BANNER MADE BY. @ALDERAANDORS ☆

[indignantlemur]

hello, I have a bit of an odd question. For each species culture in Star Trek do you think would fit in Star wars? I think the andorians and Klingons fit with the mandalorians. What do you think?

Have a nice day.

Hello! This is a fun question!

I'm gonna narrow the scope a little, because if I did every Star Trek species we'd be here forever, but I'll try to hit all the main ones.

Andorians: I could see Andorians fitting neatly into the realm of Pantoran or Chiss characters pretty easily, and what little we know about the Chiss feels a lot like it could parallel Andorians in their earlier, more isolationist histories. I particularly feel like the rigid social structures of the Chiss and their military philosophies would fit quite nicely with Andorian values. Likewise, Pantorans share some similarities with Andorians, like exceptional hearing and coloration. Additionally, the tradition of garnering tattoos to indicate family and allegiance amongst Pantorans does feel similar to Andorian chitin patterns.

Humans: Humans across all universes are pretty much the same, let's be honest. If you take an average Star Trek Human civilian and plonk them down on an average Core World in the 'Wars universe, they'll do just fine.

Vulcans: Of all the species, I feel like Vulcans prove to be excellent candidates for Jedi recruitment, but that's not actually a species, so: Kel Dor. Hear me out: they have sages, they're largely mysterious, they are on the whole very force sensitive (psychically powerful) and they keep much of their culture and traditions to themselves. It's a stretch, admittedly, but I think it kind of works.

Trill: Phydolons feel like a good match. They're a symbiotic species which form a kind of gestalt consciousness between a mammalian host and a fungal symbiote, who value wisdom and spirituality.

Klingons: The Noghri might not feel like the most immediate option to come to mind, but bear with me. Noghri are skilled warriors who utilise technology and an array of natural weapons and defenses, place high value on honour, and function societies built upon familial clans. It's not as much of a stretch as you might think, looking at that. Just as the Klingons are honed for war, the Noghri are uniquely suited for combat - though the Noghri are most well known for being assassins, rather than front-line warriors.

Orions: The Falleen, hands down. Green skin, dark hair, known to use powerful pheromones to influence others, regularly associated with major crime syndicates... it's hard not to see the parallels. It's tempting to say Twi'leks here, but honestly I feel the Falleen are a much better match.

Ferengi: Muun in general, and the Banking Clan in particular. Muun are extremely intelligent and naturally gifted at mathematics, and while the Banking Clan gives them something of a negative reputation, most Muun are pretty decent folks. Sounds familiar? Wildly different physiologies aside, I think the Ferengi and the Muun have a surprising amount in common.

Tellarites: It would be incredibly lazy to say Gamorreans here, so I won't. Truthfully, with the minimal lore on Tellarites that we have to work with, finding an equivalent for them in the Star Wars universe is a bit tricky. I'd be inclined to say the Gran, perhaps, for their colonial tendencies and agricultural leanings, but even that feels very weak to me.

Mandalorians: Mandalorians are not a species but diverse individuals who follow a shared creed, and therefore I don't feel it sensible to include it with any of the above options which are based on species. Additionally, there are at least four kinds of Mandalorians, which further complicates the issue: Death Watch, the Children of the Watch, the True Mandalorians, and the New Mandalorians. Your choices narrow down to child-abducting-hyper-militant-terrorist group, weirdly-genetically-homogenous/militant-pacifist group, militant-but-mostly-reasonable-and-kinda-culty group, and a virtually non-existent faction of militant golden-age-Mandos-cut-down-before-their-time. With all of these, your mileage may vary wildly. I could see Vulcans being attracted to the New Mandalorian philosophies, I suppose, and Andorians would probably be all over the True Mandalorian option, but it's hard to say more beyond that outside of individual circumstance.

Thanks for the ask!

[transitranger327]

Ehn’yuste, Chapter 1: A Warm Welcome (a WolfWren Fanfic)

Notes: I’m so completely normal about Shin Hati/Sabine Wren. I’ve definitely not been constantly thinking about them since I learned the ship existed. This fic is mostly canon-compliant (I think, the timeline between Rebels and Ahsoka is funky), tho canon-extrapolated might be a better term. If any of my writing seems out of character, that’s just the year of character development everyone had. This is mostly WolfWren at the moment, but I also have NiteArmor plans. CW for genocide mentions. A Mando’a glossary can be found below the cut.

One year after the Ignition

“Outsider, state your business,” crackled a deep voice from the shuttle’s comm. Shin had never seen her girlfriend look more offended. “Outsider? Not likely. I’m Sabine of Clan Wren, former owner of the Darksaber, and…” Sabine continued in Mando’a, which Shin didn’t fully understand yet but knew enough to know she would’ve been censored on the HoloNet. “So sorry ma’am, your ship’s transponder isn’t on our registry,” the voice replied in an apologetic tone, “let me get the boss as I take you down.” Sabine began tailing the Gauntlet-class in Shin’s Jedi Shuttle, which they had decided to rename to Wolf. Based on what Baylan had told her about Mandalore, Shin was honestly surprised the fighter hadn’t started shooting when it saw Eta-class on its scans, but she chalked it up to it her mercenary cover. “Here you go baby, this is what the empire did to my family,” Sabine said, with the faint bitterness of an old wound. Shin knew that while their time on Peridea managed to distance themselves from their pasts, some tragedies scar instead of heal. At least they had each other, and Sabine wasn’t the last Mandalorian despite what her nightmares told her. “Careful, the storms here can get pretty rough,” their unintended guide’s voice started fading into static, “just keep close to my beacon as we head down.” The two Jedi smiled at each other as they began descending into the storm clouds.

As they emerged from the electric shroud, Sabine’s trepidation was slowly replaced by glee. Sundari’s dome was mostly gone, sure, but banners of all the clans were hanging on what was left of it. Outpost buildings sat on the glassy surface, flanking a large new doorway cut into the old dome. Dozens upon dozens of starships littered the area, a motley crew of home-built Mandalorian ships, New Republic surplus, liberated Imperial vessels, and even one Naboo starfighter (she HAD to know whose this was). And were those…agricultural plots next to the dome? The voice emerged from the static, “We don’t exactly have docking bays, so set your shuttle down wherever you like. I’d suggest near the promenade, as the Mand’alor is waiting for you there. This is the Way.” Sabine was taken somewhat aback by such an old-fashioned saying. While she was racking her brain for the traditional response, the Gauntlet-class peeled away, disappearing into the clouds once more. Shin was confused, but for a much different reason. “I know you’ve told me this, but how are we meeting a planet?” Sabine grinned, “Mandalore isn’t just a planet, it’s a way of life. The traditional leader of it is called ‘the Mand’alor’, and while the culture, planet, and leadership aren’t exactly synonymous anymore, we don’t tend to change names for things all that often.” After a pause, she added, “I think I technically was the Mand’alor for a few months.” Shin’s face looked even more surprised, “okay how have you not told me this yet?” Sabine’s grin fell a bit, “it wasn’t exactly a happy time in my life. But I promise I’ll tell you later. Hey, found a spot.” They set the Wolf down in an open area, a few ships away from the Naboo fighter. “The air seems breathable,” Shin reported off the atmo-nalysis. “Yeah, I’m still gonna wear my helmet,” Sabine replied, “feels wrong to not wear it at home.”

As the ramp lowered, they were greeted by a figure in blue and white armor. “So I get an emergency message from one of our new pilots, and I think, ‘great, the new kid is overreacting’. Then I see the note ‘Darksaber’ attached and start to worry. But once he drops off the packet saying you’re Clan Wren, I start to suspect I’d be seeing your purple armor stepping off this shuttle.” Bo-Katan Kryze took off her helmet, “Welcome home, Sabine Wren.” “Shut up and give me a hug you big softie,” Sabine shouted as she ran toward her old friend, “it’s been too long!” As they embraced, Bo-Katan asked, “It’s been years, who’s the plus-one?” Sabine removed her helmet, showing the biggest, dumbest grin Bo-Katan had seen in years. “She, my dear duchess, is the reason you haven’t heard about me for over a year.” She dashed back to Shin, grabbing her hand and dragging her over to Bo-Katan, “Lady Bo-Katan Kryze, meet Shin Hati, Jedi Knight and love of my life.” Shin offered her hand for a shake, but Bo-Katan grabbed her forearm for a traditional Mandalorian greeting. “Welcome to Mandalore, Shin Hati, Jedi Knight.” Seeing her surprise at such a warm greeting, Bo-Katan added, “Don’t worry, Mandalore has been on good terms with you Force-wielding maniacs for a while now. Come on inside, we’ve got a lot to discuss.”

“So who’s flying the vintage N-1?” Sabine asked as they walked past the Naboo starfighter, “Looks like they managed to mod it, though I am a bit disappointed by the bare chrome.” “That’s Din Djarin’s ride, I’ll introduce you two,” Bo-Katan said with a smile, “He’s a fan of the chrome, never painted his beskar’gam. You’re gonna love his kid, he’s a Jedi.” Sabine and Shin shared a glance with each other. Another Mandalorian Jedi? What other surprises did this new Mandalore hold? “So tell me what you’ve been up to. Why return to Mandalore now?” Bo-Katan’s voice was a little colder now, with a touch of disappointment. Clearly, she had missed Sabine in whatever happened since they had left. “We were both looking for my brother Ezra.” Sabine’s answer didn’t quite satisfy Bo-Katan. “Yeah but Bridger came back a year ago, what were the two of you doing after that?” “Well, we didn’t exactly rescue him, it was more like we switched places,” Sabine answered, which seemed to intrigue Bo-Katan. Shin jumped in, “We were stuck out there in another galaxy for a year, and somehow managed to catch feelings for each other.” “Well there wasn’t much else to do besides training and exploring the world and each other—” Sabine was cut off by Bo-Katan’s curt “Wren!” “Sorry Duchess, didn’t know you were so uptight now.” Sabine’s voice overflowed with snark. Shin quickly tried changing the subject, “So Duchess Kryze, what are all these banners hanging from the wall?” “Oh, Countess Wren didn’t tell you?” Bo-Katan’s “countess” threw Shin off, “These are the signets of every Mandalorian clan, past and present. The Leonid is Clan Eldar, the Vexis is Clan Rook, and the Starbird is Clan Wren.” Shin looked up and saw what Bo-Katan was gesturing to: a more intricate version of the circular symbol Sabine plastered on everything. Sabine looked up and saw a hopelessly bland banner that she would have to repaint soon.

As they walked into the old city, Shin’s eyes gazed in wonder. Thousands of buildings in various conditions filled what used to be a dome, and they all somehow looked exactly like she was imagining. She’d seen plenty of cultures with strong warrior traditions, and plenty with excellent architectural sensibilities, but never had she seen both blended so well. The structures all looked like Mandalorian armor in one way or another. Frames of various colors, with intricate geometric shapes, all with faintly green glass between them. Then she realized the green was probably from all the trinitite outside and felt an immense grief. No wonder Sabine held so much art and beauty and sadness within her. But the shops along the main corridor appeared to be open and thriving. “Forward and down the civic staircase is the Great Forge and the Living Waters,” Bo-Katan was giving the 5-cred tour, “Over to the right is the Alderaanian Quarter and the ag flats. We’re headed over here to the left, to my office.” “Alderaanian Quarter?” Sabine asked, “How did that happen?” “Genocide survivors have to stick together. When they heard we had retaken Mandalore, several prominent Alderaan survivors reached out in friendship.” “Friendship?” Sabine’s voice was full of skepticism, not contempt, “That really worked on the legacy of Death Watch?” “You’d be surprised how the purge changed us, just look at yourself,” Bo-Katan had turned a corner and was now looking at the lightsaber hanging from Sabine’s belt. “My office is a few floors above us, you’ll have to jet up. Getting the elevators working hasn’t exactly been a priority.” Bo-Katan led, followed by Sabine on jetpack, then Shin, who used the Force Jump-Pull paired technique that she and Sabine had developed while bouldering in Peridea’s mountains. Without skipping a beat, Bo-Katan continued, “Some of the people from Alderaan were a group of agricultural researchers who had been having trouble finding work together. So we offered them a chance. Today, rad-absorbent clover. In five years, Alderaanian wine.”

As they entered what Bo-Katan had called her “office”, Sabine began to laugh to herself. It was the Mand’alor throne room, except now the throne was half-destroyed and was placed at the head of a large conference table. Lining the walls were imperial computer terminals, what looked like the remains of a Gauntlet-class cockpit, and a large mural of a mythosaur (not half bad, even by Sabine’s high standards). Bo-Katan pulled out two chairs before sitting down on her throne. “Two questions: what’s the deal with the lightsaber, and why did you come back to Mandalore now?” Right to the point. “After the Purge, I was feeling incredibly guilty for not being there. I knew I should’ve come back instead of being at Jakku—” Bo-Katan interrupted, “Stop it Sabine. You alone couldn’t’ve stopped the Empire. Stop blaming yourself for the Night.” Sabine took a deep breath, “I know that now. That was one of the things I learned this year.” Two Mandalorians entered the room, one with a bronze helmet, the other with no helmet and carrying a tray of sliced uj’alayi. Sabine continued, “But a few weeks after the Night, I made contact with Ahsoka Tano. Asked her to train me in the Force so this wouldn’t happen again.” A woman’s voice emerged from the bronze helmet, “Ahsoka Tano, now that’s a woman who walks in two worlds.” “Sabine Wren and Shin Hati, meet the Armorer, our Keeper of the Forge, and my right hand.” Sabine wasn’t quite sure what to make of Bo-Katan’s introduction. Did the Armorer not have a name? “Anyway, my initial training went about as well as you would expect from me. We had a falling out, then last year she came back to me with a mission. She thought she found a lead on Ezra Bridger’s whereabouts.” Sabine sensed a bit of confusion from the helmeted woman and added, “Ezra’s my brother from the Rebellion. He’d gone missing a while ago.” Sabine thanked the uj courier as they left and then encouraged Shin to have a slice. A muffled “wow this is so good” escaped Shin’s lips before Sabine continued. “Turns out, Shin here was looking for Thrawn, so she stabbed me with her lightsaber to get the map to both of them.” Bo-Katan started to cackle, “Of course you would fall in love with someone who stabbed you. Ursa would be proud.” Sabine was surprised at how little a mention of her late mother hurt her. “Ahsoka and I managed to catch up to Shin and her former master,” she tried to find an explanation that would gloss over their convoluted adventure, “and we all made our way to Peridea, a planet in another galaxy where Thrawn and Ezra were stranded. We sent them back but got stuck there ourselves.” Bo-Katan and the Armorer were now fully invested in the story. Shin continued as Sabine had some uj cake, “During the year on Peridea we both managed to complete our Jedi training, and discovered that we had feelings for each other.” Sabine then showered Shin with a litany of kisses. “Both of you are Jedi?” the Armorer asked. Sabine replied, “Like you said, two worlds.” “And so after you manage to make it back to our galaxy, you come back to Mandalore.” Bo-Katan was starting to put the pieces together. “Well, my old master and I had collected a sizable amount of beskar as payment from the imperial remnants we worked for. Figured we should return it to its rightful home.” Shin’s honesty was not something either of the older Mandalorians were expecting. “Oh yeah, which means she’s technically a ‘wanted criminal’ according to the New Republic,” Sabine was now in full Rebel Snark™ mode, “maybe if she had stabbed them, they’d forgive her sooner.”

Bo-Katan sat in silence for a moment. “That complicates things.” Sabine’s anger started bubbling up, “How so?” Bo-Katan tried to remain diplomatic. “At the moment, we have to play nice with the New Republic. We’d like to not extradite anyone, but the best they could do is no extradition for Mandalorians.” “Which means,” the Armorer continued, “If you wish to remain here, you must become Mandalorian. You must marry.”

This was not the answer Sabine was expecting, but a small smile crept onto Shin’s face. “Wait but won’t the New Republic think we’re trying to pull a jehaat?” “Sabine, I trust you. If you believe Shin has changed and won’t cause any undue trouble, then I believe too.” Bo-Katan’s earnestness was slightly off-putting to Sabine, who still thought she secretly hated her. “Lady Kryze and I will both witness that you two arrived and asked to marry. If the New Republic asks if we knew your past crimes, we will not indicate that we did.” The Armorer paused, “that is, if you wish to continue down this path.”

Sabine’s mind was racing. Marriage? Already? She had only known Shin for a year. She had always kept her relationships at an arm’s length since Ketsu. Well, all of them until Shin. Sabine thought, or perhaps whispered, “I’m not sure I’m ready.” Shin grabbed her girlfriend’s chin, the turned it to her. She grinned, “Yes you are. You’ve been ready for months.” Then she pulled her in for a kiss. “Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum, Sabine Wren.”

After catching her breath, Sabine asked, “Tion gar vencuyi ner riduur, Shin Hati?” “I take it riduur means wife?” After a nod from the Mandalorians, she continued,

“the answer is yes.”

Mando’a translations (some are my own, so if they’re wrong let me know)

Ehn’yuste: “the three ways”, which will make sense in the future

Mando’a: the Mandalorian language

Mand’alor: the traditional spelling of Mandalore, now used mostly to refer to the owner of the Darksaber

Beskar’gam: Mandalorian armor

Uj’alayi: aka Uj cake, the best Mandalorian dessert, a sweet cake with dried fruit and nuts

Beskar: the lightsaber-resistant metal that Mandalorian armor is made from

Jehaat: lie, deception, scam

Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum: “i love you”, literally “I hold you in my heart forever”

Tion gar vencuyi ner riduur?: “will you marry me?” literally “will you be my spouse?” (Mando’a doesn’t have grammatical gender)

[oh-no-eu-didnt]

Concord Dawn was an agricultural world located in the Outer Rim Territories. A Mandalorian colony, a sizable portion of the planet was destroyed during an ancient conflict. Concord Dawn was politically important in the Mandalore sector, and was the homeworld of Jango Fett.

Source - Star Wars Rebels: “The Protector of Concord Dawn“ (2016)

First Appearance - The Essential Guide to Characters (1995)

Read more on Wookieepedia.

[rinline]

ok. so. i had an idea where Mace Windu survives the fall from Emperor Palpatine and then decides to go underground to create a new order of force wielders, made up of force sensitive children and vulnerable people, that are then isolated from the galaxy during the sequels and original trilogy.

SO WHAT HAPPENS IS when like the sequels are done you get random powerful force wielders wearing cloaks or face coverings or tattoos idk showing up and helping communities and towns from strife and then disappearing.

Maybe at first the galaxy thinks it’s like one or two that can like teleport or some shit, but then you later find out that it’s a bunch of different people.

One day some of these force wielders are helping a town and stuff goes sideways. they get in a fight. the’re fighting a mandalorian or some guy with beskar, they pull out a lightsaber.

it’s purple.

Mace Windu has created a (kinda cult-y) isolated force community that have an equal balance between light and dark.

Here what i’m thinking about the community:

It’s almost completely self sufficient, and children are highly educated in the force, diplomacy, engineering, biology, agriculture, etc. even if they plan on being like a farmer or running their parents shop.

then when the force wielders reach a certain age (maybe like around 18/19) a group of three are put together (one dark leaning, one light leaning, one grey leaning) and are tasked with going out and seeing the galaxy for like 6 months to two years

They have to use the force as minimally as they can and really only when their lives are in danger. They can’t tell anyone about their home, where it is or what it’s made up of.

If they find a orphan child with the force they can bring them back but they can’t tell the child where their going or more info about force wielders. Then when they return, they’ve done a right of passage and they get like a tattoo or a branding (again kinda culty)

I’m also thinking like the ruling council is made up of three different trios of force wielders (trios would be made up of one grey, one light, one dark) and then votes have to be cast not individually but by the groups (ex. one trio votes yes, two trios vote no) and if a trio can’t agree on a choice their vote is abstained.

idk i wish they could do this cause then they can bring in Samuel L Jackson as old mace windu make it’s a show or a movie trilogy i don’t care

just make it plz

[flaccid-rats]

You know.

I do actually enjoy the concept of Din and Bo-Katan being a couple, even tho I don’t actively ship it.

Because.

Din finally managed to get rid of the Darksaber and any and all leadership responsibilities he may have had to Mandalore. He’s free to galavant across the galaxy with his son to his heart’s content and he’s convinced that he’s for sure lost any and all legal standing as a ruler of Mandalore.

Except He Didn’t.

Because his wife is Bo-Katan Kryze.

The last known living member of the Mandalorian royal family.

The god damn mother fucking Mand’alor.

Din is expected to participate in councils and meetings. People want his opinion on things. He’s supposed to officiate ceremonies and entertain political guests because he’s the Mand’alor’s spouse. He gets roped into infrastructure and agriculture planning. People keep asking him to advise on military tactics and strategies. He has an Official Title as the Mand’alor’s Consort. People call him my lord. He has a personal guard that Din can not for the LIFE of him shake off. Grogu is technically the Prince of Mandalore.

Din hates it here.

[phoenixyfriend]

Rex and Anakin Raise a Family: Chapter 7

Read on AO3

Visitors aren't common, out here. Especially not ones like this.

The planet they are on is on the vaguest borders of Mandalorian space. Technically, they are within the purview of Duke Kryze’s rule, but in practice they are left largely to their own devices. The people here are agricultural, by and large, and while Mandalorian values and language are common enough, they are mixed in with plenty of others. Few people, if any, are in possession of full kit. Most of the ones who wear armor in such a quantity are part of law enforcement.

Except for Rex.

He knows the rumors circulate about him on a regular basis. He’s fully armored, even if it’s clearly a plastoid intended for a specific form of battle that doesn’t match up to a Mandalorian’s usual choices. He’s skilled and strong enough for his weekend hunts to have earned a reputation, and it’s no secret that he and Anakin are veterans, even if nobody can figure out which military they come from. There have already been attempts to recruit him to the local police force, to the reserve guard, or even as a bounty hunter. He’s taken one or two jobs to hunt down a bounty, but only the ones that had him tracking and neutralizing a wild animal, not a person. He doesn’t want to get caught up in any of the drama that surrounds the ‘real’ bounty hunters.

He's got kids, now.

The twins are barely six months old. They’re babbling without words, and can roll over, and Luke seems like he’s going to be crawling any moment now. Rex keeps half an eye on them whenever they’re not in the birikad. There are plenty of chores to be done, and when he does the dishes, they’re napping. If he’s darning up a tear in a sock, they’re playing together on the rug.

Leia said Bu the other day. It came out more as a ‘buh,’ really, but it was close, and the intent was…

She definitely meant Rex.

Anakin is already getting ‘Da’ from both of them as often as not. Shmi’s name is too difficult for babies, and the closest either has gotten so far is some variation on the ‘ee’ sound. Rex thinks he might get them to practice the ‘o’ in ori’vod, since there are more child-friendly versions of that for the twins to grow through.

Shmi’s at school, and Anakin’s doing some kind of repair; it’s the third time this week, and almost certainly the last. Anakin doesn’t like to leave the twins more than twice a week, and today was only an exception because it was an emergency. Rex was vacuuming earlier, and doing laundry, and now he’s scrubbing at the pan he managed to burn a grain to while cooking the other day.

Leia squeals, loud and excited, and Rex glances over, and then out the window. That noise usually means Anakin’s on his way b—

That’s not a speeder.

(Continue on AO3)

[t0adst00l]

Here’s some world building I’ve been working on recently!

The Red Queen and the motif of chess and playing cards in AiW got me thinking about the other rulers of Wonderland! I like to think they each rule an equal sect of Wonderland and cooperate peacefully but in their own unorthodox ways. The top left is of course our Red Queen, the top right is the Sovereign of Spades (Any pronouns), the bottom left is the Duchess of Diamonds (she/they), and the bottom right is the King of Clubs (he/him)

The Red Queen/Queen of Hearts ♥️

We know the most about the Red Queen’s court from the show/other media. The people in her court are team players, excel in social skills, and love being there for others. The main focus in the Red Queen’s court is the arts and healing; creativity flourishes in things like parties, plays, and concerts. Nothing is too ambitious of an endeavor when done in the pursuit of artistic expression. However, sometimes residents of this court can be a little touchy at times, and spontaneity can lead to poor execution in the end.

The Sovereign of Spades ♠️

The Court of Spades is a very militant and valor-centric state full of people with warrior hearts. Think of them as Wonderland’s Mandalorians, they prove their worth in friendly sparring matches, and uphold a very strict code of honor. The height of achievement is winning in battle, or losing with the scars to prove you fought. Being injured in sparring/battle earns you the highest honors. Even though the citizens of this court come off as a little brooding and intimidating at first, they enjoy a good deal of celebration (when it’s earned of course) and party hard when they do. Events like fencing, jousting, boxing, wrestling, and martial arts are common in the court of Spades. The downside to this court is the physical demand it puts on its people; training for hours a day, getting hurt during sparring, and even paralyzation or death.

The Duchess of Diamonds ♦️

The Court of Diamonds focuses heavily on intellect, appearances, and devotion. Residents in this court love learning new things no matter what it is, and pride themselves in their range of know-how. Academia is the height of civilization here, and there are schools everywhere dedicated to all types of trades. Spelling bees, scholarly debates/discussions, and quests to recover historical objects are often held by the court of Diamonds. Open-mindedness and the willingness to see new perspectives is greatly appreciated by the people here. The downside to the Court of Diamonds is that if one struggles with things like attention span or performance anxiety during tests, they will fall further and further down the social hierarchy. People who struggle to perform well academically experience greater pressure and sometimes ostracism by their peers in fear they won’t be caught up with their ability.

The King of Clubs ♣️

The court of Clubs is ruled with hard work, dedication, and follow-through. Agriculture is the main occupation for most of those who inhabit this court. Your keep is earned by an honest day’s work, and leisure is meant to be a private, almost shameful activity. Like the Court of Spades, athleticism is also enjoyed recreationally by its people. The quality and quantity of one’s work is their source of pride and worth. This is the court Clover is originally from; she found the demand by her peers to do her absolute best at all times to be paralyzing. Her unorthodox methods mixed with her eclectic way of thinking made her feel out of place amongst her fellows. She still struggles with setting her standards higher than she’s able to reach, but being in the Red Queen’s court helps her take a step back and breathe. The downside to this court is of course the crushing expectations, especially at the expense of personal injury. If you aren’t working as hard as you can, then you’re wasting your time with whatever else you may be doing instead.

If anyone wants to make their own AiW OC based on the courts I’ve designed I would absolutely love to see them! Please tag me so I can see it :)

[burnwater13]

Concept art by Christian Alzmann depicting an AT-ST attacking a rural village on forested planet. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 1, Episode 4, Sanctuary. Calendar by DateWorks.

Grogu didn’t know where Peli Motto had found the models of the Imperial equipment. He also knew better than to ask. He was sure that they had been ‘sourced’ by Jawas and that generally meant they had been liberated from someone’s personal collection. He also didn’t want to know who had that collection. Scale replicas of AT-STs, AT-ATs, AT-RTs, AT-APs, AT-OTs, AT-TEs, and a bunch of others that Grogu couldn’t even name. 

Which was just as well. The Imperial nomenclature was a bit boring until it was just ridiculous. An AT-ST was pretty simple: All Terrain Scout Transport. An AT-AT was also pretty simple: All Terrain Armored Transport. AT-TE seemed simple, All Terrain Tactical Enforcer, but that name didn’t actually say much. The worst was AT-DP. All Terrain Defense Pod. What the heck did that actually mean? 

Apparently all of the ‘All Terrain’ things were classified as ‘Walkers’. So was the AT-DP a walking pod? It sure looked like that, but why? They all had some sort of pod-like form. They all had something like armor. They were all on ‘legs’. They were just different sizes. How could one defend but the others just brought a varying number of people from point a to point b? It was weird.

The other weird thing was that you could store some of them in others. According to Grogu’s New Republic Galactic Fact Book (comp edition), you could store AT-STs inside an AT-AT, or an AT-ACT, but no one ever did, because then you wouldn’t have room for troops, ammunition, rations, or white flags. 

Grogu had only kind of seen an AT-ST once. On Sorgan. It was being used by some marauders to attack the village where Winta and her mom lived. You’d think that if you were Klatooinian marauders you’d want to go someplace other than Sorgan, which was a poor agricultural world, and really had nothing worth marauding over. After all, if you keep stealing someone’s harvest of spotchka (did that even make sense) then they wouldn’t have any reason to grow another batch (they must have stolen the krill, which made even less sense - what would you do with them?)

The thing had looked scary. It had strange red lights in the cab of the vehicle and a variety of cannons and launchers that made a lot of noise and could destroy simple wood structures without much trouble. But, it was still small, didn’t have a lot of room for ammunition, and walked on two legs that didn’t really provide for a lot of stability. It was a compromise between form, fit, function, and funding. 

But based on the New Republic Galactic Fact Book (comp edition) you could knock them over with timbers, snare them with dura-steel cables, blow them up with a well aimed thermal detonator, or even use a lightsaber to disable their command module. Or, you could use one to attack another one. They only had a driver and a weapons officer. Even Grogu could have dealt with them. Maybe.

All that to say, when he was organizing the models and setting them up for battle against his defending force of a couple of soft toys that looked like banthas and rancors, the Mandalorian had walked in and said ‘I don’t like those odds, kid’. 

Grogu had turned and frowned at him. He was just setting up. They weren’t even in their starting position yet. Which odds didn’t the Mandalorian like? He seemed to be a big fan of high odds against accomplishing the goal most of the time.

“Buddy, your stuffies don’t have armor. They also don’t have weapons, other than their bulk, and they don’t have the high ground. The walkers are going to pick them off like scurriers at one of Peli’s bar-b-cues.”

Grogu sighed. He closed his eyes and concentrated. The Mandalorian was spoiling everything, but so be it. He could use the Force to help his defenders and that’s what he did, come what may.

“Okay! Okay! I get it. You can stop. I didn’t realize that you had a hidden force waiting for the Imps to fall into a trap. Just make them stop!”

Grogu smiled to himself and dropped his hand as he opened his eyes. It was just as he’d imagined it would be. The pit droids had encircled the Mandalorian, making them a great surprise force when they were armed with straws and an unlimited number of tiny dirt balls (Grogu couldn’t give them actual thermal detonators). He used the Force to propel the dirt balls at his target’s very shiny armor. Well it had been shiny. 

“Okay, you win this round. It’s a good thing for the galaxy that you weren’t on the Imps’ side. Now, are you ready for some lunch?”

A silly question, but well timed. If Din Djarin had asked that question during the diplomatic phase of their conflict he wouldn’t have to polish his armor all over again. Some people just needed time to learn the simple lessons.

[corellianhounds]

What was the whole point of proposing the promised section of land on Nevarro as an incentive for the Mandalorians to come to their aid if the Armorer is just going to turn right around and propose they go back to the garbage planet with arguably little viable agriculturally sustainable land. What exactly on a practical level are they hoping to rebuild?

As much as I would love to see a variety of Mandalorian architects, engineers, tradesmen, builders, and mechanics working together, they won’t be able to do anything for long without food or immediate shelter. It doesn’t matter how many (apparently vastly ideologically different) clans you bring together, civic centers aren’t built first. If they want a centralized industrial civilization like they’re implying, it starts with agriculture and sustainable communities that Mandalore as we’ve seen it can’t support. Going right back to the bombed out capital city or even other cities isn’t a rational next step because prior to this, the impression the show/universe has given us is that these clans are nomadic fighters by necessity since everyone and their mom hunts down and kills Mandalorians for their armor. Mandalorians’ primary skillsets are ones of fighting and defense, using these skills as freelance warriors for hire in order to obtain money or goods to bring back to the group— We haven’t even seen this specific covert do anything that demonstrates regular survival skills like hunting, fishing, gathering, building, etc. They haven’t even shown us a bed.

Mando isn’t the only character being written with little character consistency or intelligent storytelling. Neither Bo-Katan or the Armorer are being written well either, and any element of plot is given the “eh, take it or leave it” treatment. Not giving this season a solid foundation means everything that stems from it is going to be worse by default.

[hannibalzero]

Here’s an idea: obi wan is a prince who has yet to be married off, Anakin is a possible suitor who has to fight for Obi wans hand in marriage against other possible suitors.

Obi wan would act like he was against it but he is most definitely weak in the knees for Anakin.

Oh this would be fun, I had the idea of a Mandalorian au a while back but never had a lot with it. This could work….

Mandalore and Strwjoni are called “the lovers of the galaxy”. Mandalore protects Stewjoni with it's military might, Stewjoni protects Mandalore with its agricultural surplus and that arts. So the two planets royal families tend to marry into each other. Just a slight problem, Satine is not interested in the shine maiden prince of Stewjoni. The shrine maiden prince is the one that blesses the mandalores with their crests to start new clans. It’s a hugeeeee deal.

Satine decided to hold a tournament for Obi-wan’s hand. Only the best Mandalorian is worthy of such a grand honor.

Obi-wan wears a fox mask with a vail, not wanting to show his face to anyone but his family. This is the way. Obi-wan finds this whole tournament to be an Uncivilized display. He wasn’t a bit of meat to be fought over…

Anakin is from a dead clan of Mandalorians, the Skywalker. Hell bent on bringing his clan back from the dead, the tournament was simply for him to show off what a impressive hunter he was. But as faith as it, Anakin is alone with Obi-wan in a turbo lift. The most beautiful creature he had ever seen hidden in a fox mask?

“What clan do you represent?” Anakin asked quickly watching as the young man jumped a little and looked to Anakin.

“The royal family of Stewjoni, I am Obi-wan Kenobi.” He gave a little bow out of politeness.

“…..just watch maiden prince, when they call the name Skywalker as the winner…ill come for you.”

This made Obi-wan laugh softly. “Oh my, you are cocky…we shall see. May the force be with you…Skywalker.” obi-wan tied his simple blue sash around Anakin’s arm before stepping off the lift, Obi-wan had to pick someone to favor why not the mandolorian that made him laugh.

I need to add this to my to do list.

[offense-is-the-best-defence]

The reactivation of the Great Forge had kept the Armourer busy, firstly repairing armour in the wake of the battle & then forging more mundane things like agriculture & mining tools. It was after she had finished a batch of these tools that the smallest mandalorian walked into the forge.

‘Din Grogu.’ she said, inclining her head. ‘It is good to see you again.’

Grogu reached into his robes & produced an object well known to her.

The Darksaber. Or at least what was left of it.

Bo Katan had told her of it’s destruction, a thing that seemed almost impossible yet the reality of it sat in front of her. The beskar hilt was bent almost in a U shape & it saddened the Armourer to see such a weapon killed.

Grogu held the saber up, pointing to the Forge.

‘You wish it repaired? I do not know if that is possible.’

‘I told him that too, but he wouldn’t listen.’ came a voice.

‘Din Djarin. I did not think you would be far from your youngling.’

Grogu looked between his father & the Armourer, his ears drooping sadly.

‘Come.’ she said, gently taking the saber from Grogu. ‘Let us see what can be done.’

The Armourer carefully pried the casing apart, wincing as the shattered khyber crystal clattered on the work bench.

‘The crystal is destroyed as is the field energizers but the circuitry is mostly intact.’

‘I have a friend on Tatooine who can help.’ said Din.

‘They have a crystal? Such things are rare.’

‘Perhaps, perhaps not. She can point me in the right direction.’ Din knelt down before his son. ‘I will return soon, help the Armourer.’

Grogu nodded, cooing happily.

The Armourer set to work immediately, she carefully removed the innards of the saber & put them safely in a lock box. Next she had Grogu help in crafting a mould for the casing, directing him to the shape that resembled the old darksaber. The lines of the mould were not as smooth as they could have been but she felt it was important that Grogu leave his mark on the weapon.

The youngling fetched some beskar which was melted in a crucible & poured carefully into the mould.

‘We must wait for the metal to cool.’ she said, putting a lid on the mould. The Armourer drew 2 pictures, one of the mythosaur & the niteowl. ‘Which should we affix to the saber?’

Grogu pointed to the niteowl & then to the hammer that the Armourer wore at her waist.

‘I see. Where shall I place the hammer?’ she asked. A small green finger pointed to the brow of the owl. ‘Very well, it shall be done.’

It took Din Djarin several weeks to return, during which the Armourer showed Grogu the arts of her craft. Realising her tools were too heavy for the youngling, she crafted some that fit his small hands.

Upon the mandalorian’s return, many days were spent mounting the crystal & energisers as well as repairing the circuitry.

‘It is done.’ said the Armourer & placed the saber in Grogu’s hands. ‘Come, let us surprise Lady Bo Katan.’

Bo Katan had made her home near the underground gardens of Mandalore, she was often to be found wandering among the greenery or meditating amongst it’s leaves.

‘Bo Katan. We come to return that which is rightfully yours.’ intoned Din.

Bo looked up, confused.

Grogu stepped forward & using the Force, the saber floated into Bo’s hands.

‘This cannot be. It was destroyed.’ Bo gasped. Her eye caught the sigil forged on the pommel & she smiled, her thumb brushing the small hammer.

The saber burst into life & the humming energy sounded like an old friend to Bo Katan. The reforged blade was black as it always had been but it’s edge glowed a bright blue. Bo bowed her head to the Armourer.

‘Thank you. This is not something that I would think to be returned.’

‘Your thanks are misplaced, Lady Kryze.’ said the Armourer. ‘Din Grogu insisted this be done.’

Bo smiled & lifted Grogu in her arms.

‘Thank you, little one. My saber is yours, should you have need of it.’

[transitranger327]

Chapter 2: A Voyage to Mandalore

Summary: Rey, Finn, Poe, and BB-8 visit these mysterious “Mandalorian Jedi”, and learn more about themselves than they bargained for.

Notes: There is Stormpilot content I swear. The fic is mostly trio-centric, but I promise Finn/Poe fans will be getting gay content (it’s me I’m Finn/Poe fans). More notes and a Mando’a glossary at the end.

Twenty-six years after the Ignition

As they dropped out of hyperspace, Rey, Finn, Poe, and BB-8 took in the sights of the planet before them. The surface was partly obscured by large electrical storms, and the rest of the surface were various shades of tan and green. There appeared to be several cities, the dark grey of metal standing out against the lighter surface. Many of the cities had patches of bright green around them, suggesting some form of agriculture. One city on the night side shimmered with the pale yellow of streetlights. From what Poe could remember of Mandalorian history, this was the best the planet had looked in centuries. 

“All right, BB-8, transmit the clearance codes,” said Rey, “we don’t want them shooting down an unidentified vessel right after a war.” BB-8 dutifully broadcasted the codes along with their transponder signature. A high voice spoke from the Falcon’s comms, “Welcome to Mandalore, friends of Jacen Syndulla.” A Mandalorian starfighter approached them. With a slight defensive tone, Rey replied, “He said we were supposed to meet with him or someone from the Way.” The Mandalorian voice responded, “Yes, he told us we should expect you. Please follow the Sundari Beacon to landing zone 327. This is the way.” The fighter returned to a patrol pattern as the Falcon began descending. “Landing beacons?” Finn asked, “Aren’t those synthetic radar, ancient tech?” Poe chuckled a bit, “They’re the only thing that can cut thru ion storms. Most other communications gets caught in the interference.” 

—

As the quartet stepped off the Millennium Falcon’s landing ramp, they were greeted by Jacen Syndulla. He was wearing the exact same flight suit & armor combo he had been wearing the day he dropped into their lives on Ajan Kloss. As he walked them inside a what appeared to be a formerly domed city, he gave them the 10-cred tour. “Sundari isn’t just the political capital of Mandalore, it’s an important cultural center. The lower levels,” he pointed to a grand staircase, “house the Great Forge and the Mines of Mandalore.” “What are you mining?” quizzed Finn. “Well the Mines are no longer active, but thousands of years ago they were the first sources of beskar. Today the Mines are filled with the Living Waters.” Jacen’s enthusiasm for this world was infectious. “The western portion of the city is the Alderaanian quarter, which has the best wine bars in the city and the School of Restorative Agriculture. But we’re headed towards the southern district, where the Temple and Archives live.”

“Why do some of these people wear helmets inside?” Rey was curious about a clearly romantic pair, arm-in-arm wearing helmets. “Ah yes, the Children of the Watch. They walk an older form of the way, where you never remove your helmet while in the company of another. They’re also responsible for guarding and maintaining the Great Forge.” Finn was shocked, remembering his time as a stormtrooper, “you mean they choose to always wear their armor?” “Yes, some wear it as a sign of devotion, some wear it as a comfort, and some wear it as personal expression.” Finn asked, “personal expression?” Jacen then realized he was talking to a former stormtrooper, “Does any of the armor look identical to you? Everything is a choice. And Beskar’gam is incredibly comfortable, it legit feels like a second skin. I’ve slept in it on accident more than once, without feeling sore or stiff the next day. But logistically, yes you can remove it when you eat or freshen up, if alone. That’s why the restaurants all have trays for takeout, and why we don’t have communal refreshers. And since technically the rule is ‘you cannot show your face to another’, some couples choose to sleep in complete darkness instead.” 

—

The Temple that Jacen was guiding the others to was an enormous block of building pressed up against the rim of the former dome. It was vaguely pyramidal structure, with large rooms on the façade. Finn noted that, while the other windows of the building were made of trinitite glass, the rooms they were walking past had transparisteel windows, suggesting their purpose to train. Several library reading rooms occupied the lower floors containing one or two people each, while a large assembly of stained glass lined the fourth floor, which Poe suspected implied a large central sanctuary. The top levels split into multiple towers, but only a few small floors on the central tower peaked over Sundari’s old dome. To Rey, it looked reminiscent of Jedi temples of old, while still blending in with its Mandalorian surroundings. As the five of them entered, they were greeted by a young woman with bright yellow hair and armor to match. “Jaina, you’re on guard duty today?” “Yeah cousin, I told mom I’d rather greet living people out here than catalog dead ones in the stacks with her” “Well you might regret that today specifically, these living people have brought some of the sacred texts for Aunt Shin to read. Can you call your moms and tell them to meet us in the library’s conference room?” “Sure thing.”

As they left the entrance hallway and entered the temple’s narthex, Poe asked what he thought was an obvious question, “Why do you have a teenager on guard duty?” Jacen smiled, “We’re Mandalorian, we’re ready to guard buildings once we’re old enough to fire a blaster. But she’s not really guarding anything, the temple is open to anyone who wants to learn. She’s more a guide and communicator.” As they turned left, Jacen continued the tour. “The large doors we just passed were the entrance to the Sanctum of All. This way is to the Archives. If you had turned left, you’d have found the administrative wing: offices, conference rooms, and dormitories for travelers and Jedi alike.” “So Jedi live here?” asked Rey, thinking about how this compared to the First Temple at Ahch-To. “Yes and no. This isn’t like the old temples. Mandalorians have strong allegiances to our clans, and so many of us live near our families. Some people live here for stretches of time, for both practical and spiritual reasons. Non-members too, usually if they’re studying texts in our library and don’t want to commute.” Finn marveled at the idea of a group of warriors so dedicated to both freedom and knowledge. 

“Here at the archives, we have both a library of texts and a collection of artifacts from across the galaxy.” Poe watched as dozens of pages of his history books jumped out at him as antiquities sitting in display cases, “So is there a particular focus or is this general galactic history?” “We try to have copies of as much knowledge as possible. Holos of every text we can find, physical texts where possible. We want to rival the old Jedi Temple archives in terms of completeness,” Jacen answered, “But we want as much knowledge as possible to be available to the public. There are, of course, some texts that require…special care and attention. But any member of the public is allowed to ask for access.” The implication of Dark Side teachings went unsaid. “And the artifacts?” Finn asked, thinking about some of the artifact destruction he had to do in his past life. “Right, so, the artifacts here are specifically related to Jedi and Mandalorian history.” Jacen continued, clearly having guided people thru the museum before. “If they weren’t Jedi- or Mandalorian-made, they’re either modern replicas or on loan from their owners. Some of the Jedi-made artifacts are replicas too, and we’re currently loaning them out to another museum in the galaxy.” He gestured to a small wooden item with charms hanging off the side, “this was my mother’s Kalikori, showing the Syndulla family history. The Ryloth History museum has a replica, but for special occasions I fly this one out there and give talks about her and my grandfather.” After a beat, he continued “Or they might be Sith artifacts. We’re not quite sure what to do with Sith artifacts, but we have them.”

“Well here you are, the Library conference room,” Jacen said as he opened a door at the end of their 16th hallway. An older woman, with short teal hair and wearing purple armor, was sitting at a conference table opposite the door the rest had entered. “Olarom, fellow Jedi and companions. I see Jacen has enthusiastically explained how the temple works. Please, have a seat. I’m Sabine Wren, Grand Master of Jetii Mando’ayust. My wife, Chief Librarian Shin Hati will be joining us shortly.” “Yes, Jacen was very helpfully explaining all the galactic history I didn’t learn as a child,” Rey answered, realizing that Sabine expected her to be the leader. Jacen slipped out of the room as she continued, “I’m Rey, these are my friends Finn, Poe Dameron, and BB-8.” “Pleased to meet you, Master Wren,” Poe said as he shook Sabine’s…arm? “No, the pleasure’s all mine,” Sabine replied, shaking everyone else’s arms, “I’ve been trying to get you four out here ever since I heard one of you was a Jedi.” Another woman about Sabine’s age, with chin-length white hair, entered the conference room from a previously unnoticed door. “Come in riduur, these are the people Jacen was telling you about.” After a kiss, Sabine continued, “Rey, Finn, Poe, and BB-8.” “Ah yes, the Jedi who learned from both Skywalkers, the former stormtrooper finding himself, the hotshot pilot who’s perhaps a bit wiser after the war, and their trusty astromech.” Shin took a seat and clasped her beloved’s non-writing hand. “I hear you have some ancient books for me to indulge in.”

Poe slipped out, trying to see if he could follow Jacen. He wasn’t needed in the conference room, he wasn’t Jedi material. Not like Finn and Rey were. He knew they had a different connection to each other, and while at first he was jealous of their bond, Finn had reminded him that their bond was different too. The kidnapping-rescuer-to-lover pipeline was real, he laughed to himself. He caught sight of green braids. “Hey Syndulla!” Jacen turned around, “I thought you’d be in the conference room.” 

“Well I’m not really Jedi material. Thought I’d see if we could talk. You know…pilot-to-pilot.”  “Dameron, are you trying to get a tour of the Ghost?”  “…mmmaaayyybee…”  “Alright, come on, I’ll show you. I’ll even throw in a Phantom tour for free!”

The two men laughed as they strolled off to the ship farm.

—

“Yes! The Sacred Texts!” Rey started laying the eight volumes she had brought from the Falcon. “We’ve got both volumes of the Aionomica, the Rammahgon, the Chronicles of Brus-bu, Poetics of a Jedi, and a few others I won’t even try to pronounce.” Shin began browsing the pages of the ancient tomes. “They’re in remarkable condition for being tens of millennia old. All original language too.” BB-8 whistled cheerfully, prompting Rey, “BB-8 and R2 did scans on the material when I brought it back to the Resistance base. Apparently the pages are made from Uneti wood.” “That would explain the longevity,” Shin continued, “Uneti trees are connected to the Force. More than most trees, I mean. If a Jedi wrote in them, the Force connection would keep the text from deteriorating.” Rey and Finn were beginning to understand why she was the chief librarian. Sabine started flipping thru another books, one whose title translated to Meditations on Malachor. “Hey, this one has text in Mando’a! Looks like it’s a transcript of some graffiti.” BB-8 helpfully informed her that it was the newest of the texts they brought. “About four thousand years old? Huh, that’s around the time of the first Mandalorian-Jedi wars.”

Finn found himself opening Aionomicum II without realizing he was doing it. He started to hear whispers coming from one of the middle pages. “Hey, uh, does anyone else hear that?” The others went quiet. “It’s getting louder,” said Finn as he turned the pages, with a little more concern in his voice. But the others shook their heads, unable to hear anything. As he found the page, the protobesh he could barely read otherwise suddenly became clear. The words enthralled him. As the whispers quieted, the emotions of the other people in the room started flowing into his mind. He slammed the book shut and slid his chair back against the wall. ��What. The. HELL‽‽‽” Rey’s compassion grabbed a hold of him, “hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re safe.” Shin’s curiosity remarked, “It seems there was a vergence in the pages you read.” Sabine’s smugness laughed, “Kid got his first drink from the firehose of the Force.” “What do you mean, first drink of the Force?” Finn’s terror at his own power had only started to subside. “Up until now, your connections to the force have been instinctual. Maybe a few lucky shots here and there. A feeling that something has changed and you somehow know what it changed to.” Rey’s comfort interjected Sabine’s teaching, “Reaching out on Exegol trying to keep me alive.” “Exactly. But now you’ve learned something about the Force. Your conscious mind starts putting the pieces together, and suddenly the well you were tapping into transforms into a geyser.” Sabine’s pride was followed by Rey’s reassurance, “It’s okay Finn, the more you use it, the more you train, the less terrifying the power becomes.” “Wait, how do you all know what I’m feeling?” Shin’s interest answered, “If you’re not careful, sensing emotions goes both ways.” Finn’s impulse to run away surfaced, “Uh, I need to breathe for a second, I’ll just be outside.”

Sabine watched as Finn dashed out the door of the conference room. “Does he do that often?” Rey thought back on their many adventures together, “Not as much these days, which does have me concerned.” She paused for a moment. “Do you agree with Jacen, do you really think he has potential?” Shin was the first to answer, “He’s hardly the worst candidate we’ve had.” What appeared to be a coin made a plonk against Shin’s armor. “Hey I thought we agreed to not make fun of each other in front of non-family.” Sabine’s tone was only mostly joking. “No, riduur, I was referring to me. Ahsoka almost didn’t agree to finish my training, remember?” Shin smiled, then turned to the orange astromech patiently waiting in the corner, “Come with me, little one. I have something to show you.” As the librarian began picking up the books to catalog, BB-8 beeped pensively at Rey. “It’s okay, you can trust her.” With that approval, he dutifully rolled after Shin into the stacks. 

—

Finn was searching for an escape. He didn’t want to completely leave, but he needed a space larger than a conference room. He spotted a door to the Sanctum of All, and entered. “Thank the stars, it’s empty,” he sighed, taking a seat on one of the short benches. He had always liked tall rooms, and this one was almost as tall as a star destroyer hangar. All around the upper walls were stained glass, featuring scenes of history. Jedi history, probably. Putting his head in his hands, he thought “What am I even doing here? I’m not cut out to be a Jedi. I don’t even know what’s obvious to real Jedi.” As he wallowed in his own thoughts, a suit of yellow armor took a seat next to him. 

 “You look like you need company.”   “I wanted to get away from people.”  “I said you need company, not that you want it.”  “It’s Jaina, right?”  “Jaina Wren, born of two mothers and of two worlds, Sword of the Jedi.”  “Wren? So that means…”  “Yes, you just met my mothers.”  “I thought I escaped them.”  “You did. I’m not them. They have expectations and knowledge of you. I don’t. What’s your name?”  “Finn.”  “Just Finn? No clan name?”  “I didn’t even have a name until a year ago.”  “Ex-storm, huh?”  “Yep. Is it obvious?”  “Only if you know what you’re looking for. So you’re worried about not being Jedi material?”  “How’d you guess?”  “The way you stare at the stained glass. Every single worried Jedi candidate stares at them the same way. Like you’re not gonna measure up to them.”  “I don’t even know what I’m looking at.”  “Would you like a walk-thru of our history?”  “Please.”

Jaina began walking thru Jedi and Mandalorian history: the Prime Jedi, the Mandalorian Crusades, the Hundred-Year Darkness, the Sith Wars, the Mandalorian Wars, Malachor V, Tarre Vizla, the Fall of the Old Republic, the Great Hyperspace Disaster, the Mandalorian Civil Wars, the Clone and Shadow Wars, the Tano Reformation, Order 66, the Saxon Crisis, the Night of a Thousand Tears, the Ignition. She finished her retelling with “It can be your history too. You don’t have to know it all to know it’s yours.”

—

“How long have you known him?” Rey realized Sabine probably knew very little about her and Finn beyond the basic facts Jacen had relayed to her. “He met me on Jakku about a year and a half ago. We’ve been running together ever since.” Sabine asked, “Running away from something, or running to something else?” Rey pondered the armor-piercing question. “I think I’ve been running to the Jedi, and he’s been running away from the First Order.” Sabine looked Rey directly in the eyes. “Then give him something to run to.”

As Jaina got up to leave Finn with his thoughts, Rey slid next to him. A minute of silence passed. “I can’t promise you won’t be scared. I can’t promise you won’t be overwhelmed. But I promise there’s a joy in connection. In connecting to the life-force of the universe itself.” After another stretch of silence, Rey continued, “That is, of course, if you join me.” “I think I want to. But I need to talk to Poe first.” Rey was not surprised at Finn’s response. “We kinda have a thing at the moment and I assume joining you would mean less time with him.” Rey replied, “You assume correctly. But he’s my friend too, and I’ve hated my time away from both of you.” The two friends continued to sit in silence for some time

—

Finn pressed himself against Poe’s bare chest, listening for his heartbeat. One of the few things he could always count on. “So you’re not gonna be mad at me if I start training with Rey?” Poe took a deep breath and kissed his lover’s forehead. “Look, Finn, I want you to be your best self. I think this Jedi stuff is for you, and I don’t wanna stop you.” They breathed together, basking in each other’s auras. “But you gotta promise me you’ll take some breaks and come see me.” Finn smiled, “I will Poe, I promise.” Poe continued, “And not just because you need breaks, I’ll also need breaks. I think Rose is mad we left her as the highest-ranking Resistance officer trying to sort out the new government.” Finn laughed, “yeah, two generals just running off probably isn’t the best for the Resistance.” They stared into each other’s brown eyes. They whispered a simultaneous “I love you” before drifting off to sleep.

—

End Notes: We have a Jacen in the new canon as a child of the Ghost, why not have a Jaina too? Jaina calls Shin “mom” and Sabine “mother” (like what Sabine calls Ursa). And yes, her birth will happen in the WolfWren fic in the series. Star Wars is a fantasy, so I might as well get to indulge my fantasy about how museums should work. Shoutout to Team Sanctum of All for putting 2 people in the top 8 of the Magic: the Gathering Pro Tour

Mandalorian history: Tarre Vizla was the first Mandalorian inducted into the Jedi Order. He built the Darksaber. The Shadow War is my name for the Darth Maul (Shadow Collective) vs the Kryzes war (I’m not calling it the Mandalorian Civil War 19 BBY) Same goes for the Saxon crisis (Gar & Tiber Saxon vs the other clans as seen in Rebels) The Tano Reformation is Ahsoka joining the Mandalorian cause, seen as the beginning of Jetii Mando’ayust

Mando’a (Mandalorian Language) Glossary: Beskar’gam: Mandalorian armor Olarom: welcome Jetii Mando’ayust: Jedi in the way of Mandalore Riduur: spouse, partner