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beskarandblasters · 4 months

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Apotheosis Part Three: The Conversion

Sith!Din Djarin x Rebel Spy!Reader

Apotheosis; the elevation of someone to divine status; deification.

Apotheosis Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: We’ve reached the end for these two! I hope this is a satisfying conclusion for them. Thank you for @pedgito for beta reading ❤️‍🔥

Series summary: Din Djarin is a force-sensitive bounty hunter, working for the remnants of the Empire. He's on the hunt for you, an ex-rebel spy who has key information; the location where Luke Skywalker is building his Jedi training academy. But when you're captured, you're not going to give up the location easily. Din will have to utilize “alternative methods” to turn you over to the dark side.

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, dark!Din, switches between Din and Reader’s point of view, eventual smut, Star Wars lore (not super heavy), manipulation/gaslighting, no use of y/n

Summary: Din seeks out vengeance for you. After that, you finally receive what you've both been aching for.

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: small act of violence against reader, reader gets bruises but there's no description of the color/appearance of them, decapitation, fingering, force-choking, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, pet names (cin vhetin = Mando'a for blank slate), tattooed!Din

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

You

“Hello?” you call out, hoping it’s just Din.

But you couldn’t be more wrong. A hand grabs the collar of your shirt, hoisting you upright. You yelp in surprise, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. This can’t be Din. There’s no way he would hurt you like this… right?

“Rebel scum,” a low, disembodied, male voice says. It’s not Din, that’s for sure.

“What do you want?” you ask, your voice coming out small and shaky.

“The Mandalorian is too gentle with you. You have the information we need and I intend to get it from you by force,” the voice continues. His face is only inches away from yours. You can make out an outline of a face in the dark but nothing more, no distinctive features.

“Good luck with that,” you say sarcastically, gathering the saliva in your mouth and spitting directly in his face (hopefully).

The man shouts in disgust and shoves you on the floor, an outline of a large form towering over you.

“You, bitch! You’ll pay for that! Disrespecting an imperial officer. Gideon will have fun punishing you,” he says menacingly. A hand is wrapped around your ankle, the cold metal floor sliding against your skin as you’re dragged towards him. Kriff, you need to act fast. But you literally can’t see anything. Without thinking, you kick up, hoping to hit him somewhere. And by a stroke of luck, you do. Your foot collides with the fabric of his pants and his crotch… you think? It’s hard to tell. But he yelps out in pain, uttering a string of curse words. You flip over to your hands and knees, crawling away from him and looking for any light source.

But the man bends forward, reaching down for the collar of your shirt to pull you off the floor. As you’re hoisted up off the floor you jab your elbow back, hitting him right in the eye. He yelps in pain, stumbling back towards the door. You still can’t make out who it is, just a vague outline of a man in an Imperial Officer uniform. You feel around in the dark for something, anything, to defend yourself. Or even the light switch, something to give you an advantage.

However, between the kick to the crotch and the elbow to the eye, the man is backing off, clamoring around for the button to open the door and muttering, “Rebel scum,” before disappearing. The bright lights of the hallway spill into your room but even then, you still don’t get a good look at who he is. All you could see before he left was the back of his head, dawning the same hat all Imperial Officers wear. That could’ve been anyone who attacked you.

You sit at the edge of your bed, breathing deeply and trying to control your anxiety. You don’t feel safe here anymore. If Din were here you would. But you don’t know where he is and you don’t have a way to reach him. You’re stuck here, waiting for him to come back and ease your worries.

All you can do is lie down and try to sleep, but it’s hard. Your mind is spinning with all of the different ways that could’ve gone wrong. Yes, you’re safe. Yes, he decided to leave you alone. But your mind is stuck on the what-ifs. What if you weren’t able to fight him off? What if the darkness worked against you? What if he waited to enter your room until you were completely asleep?

For Maker knows how long, you stare at the ceiling in the dark waiting for your Mandalorian, your protector, to return to you.

And after long last, he does, the door opening and his large frame taking up almost the entire space. You sit up at the edge of the bed, moving slower and feeling stiff. His visor is fixated on your movements, the way you wince in pain and take sharp breaths.

“Are you alright?” he asks, walking over to the bed as the door shuts behind him.

He stands in front of you, towering over you with one hand hooked onto his belt.

“...Something happened.”

“What?!”

“Someone attacked me…. Actually, now that you’re here, can you look at my back?” you say, rising and lifting your sweater over your head.

Along your arms and up and down your back are bruises, fresh and tender from being shoved onto the floor hours ago. The tip of your elbow is sore and slightly bruised from jabbing the man in the eye. And on top of it all, you’re exhausted; exhausted from fighting back and from the lack of sleep.

Din takes off his helmet and sets it on your bed, wanting to see your injuries with nothing in the way of his eyes. You’re suddenly self-conscious of the fact that you’re topless in front of him, but he’s looking at you with so much concern, nothing sexual in nature about his eyes.

“Who did this to you?” Din asks, his eyes darkening and his hands tenderly running along your bruised skin. You swear the Sith yellow ring in the center of his irises got wider for a moment.

“I don’t know… It was dark,” you say, looking to the floor.

Din grabs your chin and turns your face towards his, looking deeply into your eyes. You weren’t imagining it, the yellow rings in his irises are undeniably wider. It would almost be scary or intimidating if his eyes weren’t filled with so much concern.

“It’s okay, cin vhetin. You did nothing wrong. I will find whoever did this.”

“I-I know, Din. But… What are you going to do to him?”

“Make him pay,” he says darkly, leaning forward and kissing your forehead.

Your skin feels like it’s set aflame in the spot where he kissed you. And to be honest, you can’t believe he even did that in the first place. This is the first sign of affection he’s shown you since capturing you. Unless all those times he came to visit you in your cell weren’t him just being friendly. Maybe he was actually flirting with you. But how can that be? He captured you. You’re his prisoner.

On the other hand, if you were really just a prisoner, why would he bring you food or an extra change of clothes? Why would he move you to your own private sleeping quarters? Why would he give you a nickname in Mando’a? Why would he kiss you on the forehead?

Maybe you’re not crazy. Maybe there is something there between you two. And maybe, just maybe, you should explore it and see where it goes.

He pulls you into his chest, his hand softly rubbing your back. A few tears escape your eyes and roll down your cheeks, running down the cool beskar that’s pressed against your cheek. You were so scared last night. And you’re thankful for Din, thankful that you have at least one person here who cares about your safety and well-being.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Of course, cin vhetin. Nothing will happen to you ever again, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper back, letting yourself rest like this in his embrace for a few moments.

After a little while he pulls away and says, “I’m going to show you around. I want you to be comfortable here.”

“Okay,” you say, looking into his eyes again. They’re back to their normal brown-to-yellow ratio. He picks up his helmet from your bed and replaces it on his head while you put your sweater back on.

“Let’s go,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you down the hallway.

“I’m going to show you where everything is. And if you hear anyone that sounds like the bastard that attacked you last night, just let me know. Okay?”

“Oh, okay,” you respond.

Jeez, you didn’t think it was going to be like this. It’s going to be hard to pinpoint who did this to you exactly. And what if you get it wrong and some innocent man is going to feel Din’s wrath? That’s a lot of responsibility all on you.

“But first, we’re going to the med bay. We need to get you some bacta.”

He walks you there, hand placed on the small of your back, and as you walk you feel all eyes on you, from Imperial Officers to Stormtroopers’ helmets watching you’re every move. It would almost make you feel unsafe or intimidated if you didn’t have Din here. He’s so confident and threatening in the way he walks, holding his head high and his hand ghosting the hilt of the Darksaber. You look at him and wonder what’s going on inside his head.

Din

For once, there’s not much going on in Din’s head. He’s focused on one thing and one thing only; finding whoever did this to you. The moment he saw the marks left on your skin and the way you were in pain, his vision went red. You’re his precious girl, his sweet angel. And the fact that anyone would even dare to lay a hand on you makes him want to take out the entire crew on this Star Destroyer. He meant it when he said that whoever did this will pay.

He brings you to the med bay, sitting you down on the examination table, and rifling through the drawers for the bacta spray himself. The medic tries to approach you but the second he puts a hand on you, Din’s visor shoots up and his hand grazes the hilt of the Darksaber.

“Hands off,” he growls.

The medic’s eyes widen and he puts his hands up, inching out of the way and into the next room. As far as Din’s concerned, everyone’s a suspect. He finds the bacta spray and turns back to you, lifting your sweater over your head and inspecting your body.

“Aside from the bruises, where else does it hurt?” he asks gently. His hands are so delicate, lifting your arms lightly and spraying the bacta on your skin.

“My neck, my back, and my elbow,” you say softly, “I elbowed him right in the eye.”

“You did? Good girl,” he praises, rubbing my back.

“Maybe he’ll have a black eye?” you wonder out loud.

“You’re right,” Din says, snapping his gaze back to you.

He lifts the helmet off his head and sets it down beside you on the table. He grabs either side of your face, pulling you in for a kiss that only be described as ardent and all-consuming.

“Good girl,” he praises again, murmuring against your lips, “You’re so smart.”

You nod as you look into his eyes, the ever-prominent yellow in his irises entrancing you, like you could believe every single word he says as long as he looks at you like that.

He pulls away and finishes spraying the bacta on your body before replacing your sweater.

You

“You should start feeling better soon,” he says, “Let me show you around now. I’ll keep an eye out for someone with a black eye.”

You nod and he notices something in your eyes this time. They hold so much trust for him, devotion even. The urge he feels to get vengeance for you is driving him forward. It’s all he can focus on.

He leads you around the Star Destroyer, showing you the laundry room, the dining hall, and the refreshers; anywhere you’d need to go while you’re here. But once your tour is done, he turns to you and grabs your hands, his practical visor burning a hole into you.

“Cin vhetin,” he says softly, “Do you want to move to my sleeping quarters? So you feel more safe.”

Oh. The excitement swirls in your stomach and your cheeks heat up. There’s something there. There has to be. Between the kiss and this.

“Sure. Thank you, Din.”

“Of course.”

Before you can respond, something catches your eye. An Imperial Officer walks by behind Din and you swear out of the corner of you catch purple splotches on his ghastly skin. The blood rushes from your face and you’re feeling lightheaded. That’s the man you attacked you. Even though you couldn’t see any identifiable features in the dark, you have an instinct you can’t ignore.

Din turns his head, following your gaze, before looking back to you and asking, “Is that him?”

“…I think? He had a black eye…”

“Stay right here,” he says, turning and barreling down the hallway towards the man. Din grabs him by the shoulder and spins him around to face him. And now that you’re looking at the man’s face the back eye is there and it’s large. There’s a flash of fear in the man’s eyes as Din’s imposing stance towers over him. But the fear goes away in an instant and his face morphs into… a smile?

Before you know the man’s continuing down the hallway cheerily and Din’s returning to you. Nothing happened. You were under the impression Din was going to do something to him and now you’re feeling disappointed.

“What happened? Who was that and why did you let him go?”

“That was Officer Tals and I didn’t let him go. I told him that he’s going to be presented with a medal of honor at a ceremony later for his commitment to the Empire.”

“What?”

“Mhm, everyone will be there. And that’s when I’ll strike. Make an example out of him,” he says, closing the gap between you two and snaking an arm around your waist.

“O-Oh, okay,” you choke out, anticipation creeping up from your stomach to your heart.

“I told you I’d make him pay,” he says darkly, his hand running up and down your back.

“Thank you, Din. I mean it,” you respond, but you’re not really sure you do. You don’t know how to feel exactly. But the “medal of honor” tonight will solidify your feelings, that’s for sure.

“I’m going to take you to my quarters now, okay? And then I have to go talk to Moff Gideon about my plan. But I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay,” you nod, letting him lead you to his quarters. And they’re much nicer than yours. The room is huge and the bed is in the center, dressed in silky black sheets. The vibes in his room are so… sensual and erotic. It’s hard to believe he keeps here alone.

“Wait here,” he says, leading you to the bed.

You sit at the edge and he kneels in front of you, taking off his helmet and setting it beside him. He grabs your hands again, stroking your skin with his thumbs, talking to you with all of the sincerity and devotion in the galaxy.

“I’ll be back to get you, cin vhetin. Once I take care of him everyone here will know they are not to lay a hand on you.”

“Thank you,” you nod as he rises from the floor. He’s standing and looking down at you now, one of his hands still intertwined with yours and the other now caressing your cheek.

“I meant it when I said you were special,” he says, the slightest hint of a smirk gracing his lips.

“You think so?”

“I know it,” he says, “I wouldn’t be making an example out of Tals if I didn’t think it was worth it. You are special, cin vhetin, and so important to me… I’ll be back,” he says, turning and swiftly heading out of his room, walking like he’s on a mission.

You lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling, thinking about everything that’s happened to lead up to this point. You don’t know how long you’ve been here and you can’t grasp why the Ahsoka or anyone else from your Rebellion days hasn’t come for you yet. Maybe Din was right, maybe they don’t care about you anymore. Maybe they just used you as a means to an end. And if that’s the case… so what? Besides being attacked last night, you’ve been happier here with Din than you have been in cycles. When you’re here, Din makes you feel like you’re somebody again. If you were to be “rescued”, you’d just return Corvus and be forgotten about again, rotting away in that abysmal town.

Is being here and listening to Din’s words against the moral code you once had? Yes, it is. But you also just don’t care anymore. For once, you’re working on what you want. And what you want is to be here with Din under his care and his protection.

His bed is so soft and comfortable that you feel yourself start to fall asleep. You don’t fight it considering all that has transpired in the past several hours. And so you nap, waiting for Din to return and your head filled with dreams of him.

Din

Now that Din’s alone, he can let his anger show. His fists clench and unclench at his sides. He doesn’t care who he bumps into as he walks, with no regard for their reactions. All he can focus on is getting approval from Moff Gideon for his plan. And the off chance Gideon says no, he’ll do it anyway. Gideon isn’t above using a little brute force when necessary. He led by example to Din all those cycles ago, transforming Din into the monster that he is now.

Gideon’s in the cockpit like he always is. He raises an eyebrow at Din’s presence. He’ll ask Din about his progress with you, part of him is also skeptical about this slow and steady approach. In the back of his mind, he knows why. His protective nature over you led Gideon to believe that Din holds some sort of sexual attraction to you. Why else would Din be so controlling over your time here, how you’re treated, where you stay, what you eat? Gideon could stop him from seeing you whenever he wants.

But he also knows that desire for someone else leaves you vulnerable; easier to manipulate. And the more Din gets attached to you, the more room there is for Gideon to exploit that.

“The prisoner was attacked last night,” Din says. He makes sure to still refer to you as the prisoner in front of Gideon, even though to him you’re much more than that.

“For what reason?”

“It doesn’t matter. I believe I have found the person responsible and I’d like to execute them.”

“Who do you suspect has attacked the prisoner?”

“Officer Tals. I informed him that there will be a ceremony in his honor for his commitment to the Empire,” Din says, stepping forward to Gideon, close enough so he can whisper.

Gideon’s face contorts into a smirk. He likes this sneak attack approach Din is going for. After all, it’s something he would do.

“When?” Gideon asks.

“Now.”

“I’ll make an announcement for a ceremony in the docking yard,” Gideon says, his smirk never wavering.

“I’ll get the prisoner,” Din says with a tip of his helmet before turning and leaving the cockpit. Gideon’s voice comes over the loudspeaker calling for an impromptu “ceremony” in the docking yard as Din careens up and down the hallways, anxiously heading back to grab you. This is it. This is the moment he’s been waiting for. This is when you’ll finally see how devoted to you he is.

You

You wake up to the door opening, groggily stretching on the bed. Din rushes over to you, grabbing your hand as you sit up.

“We have to go, cin vhetin. The ceremony is starting.”

“Okay,” you sigh, still sleepy from your quick power nap as Din helps you up. He leads you down the hallways towards the docking yard. And for once, the hallways are empty, no eyes staring at you while you walk. Everyone must already be there, excited for the fake ceremony.

You were right, the docking yard is packed, every single Imperial Officer and Stormtrooper arranged neatly and facing Moff Gideon. It feels weird to be standing with him, but in between you two is Din. And looking at him eases your nerves.

“Officer Tals,” Din says, motioning for him to come forward.

The black eye is still there, of course, evidence of the blow you gave him to the face. He’s smiling slightly, something rare for an Imperial Officer to do, but in his eyes he’s being honored, celebrated.

And then it all happens so fast. Din draws the Darksaber, raising it in the air before swinging it towards Tals. In one swift motion, his head rolls to the floor without so much as a gasp from the crowd. They flinch but immediately regain their composure. They know what Gideon and Din are capable of.

He deactivates the Darksaber and returns to your side, a hand on the small of your back as he announces to the crowd, “If any of you do so much as lay a hand on her, you’ll be met with a fate much worse.”

He grabs your hand and leads you out of there. It’s all over now. The man who attacked you is dead and Din stopped at nothing to find him and make an example out of him. Clear as day proof of his devotion and desire for you.

As soon as you’re back in his room, you’re pressed up against the wall. His gloved hands are all over your body, lifting your sweater over your head. And now that you’re half naked in front of him again, he needs to see you without the stupid helmet in the way. He hastily rips it off his head, letting it clamor to the floor, before marking up your body with his mouth. His hands slide up your waist, caressing the curve of your breasts while he works on your neck, nipping the soft skin with his teeth and licking the marks after. You wrap your arms around him, tangling your fingers in his matted curls. The way you touch each other can only be described as insatiable, your deepest, most carnal desires finally breaking free. His lips trail up your neck, inching their way closer to your lips. And when he finally kisses you, he takes your nipples between his fingertips, making you gasp into the kiss. He chuckles, pulling away for a moment to hover directly over your lips and say, “Get used to it, cin vhetin. Get used to me playing with you.”

You whimper, your whole body burning up in anticipation of his touch. Maker, you need to feel him, to be completely his. He kisses you again, tongue brushing against your lips while one hand trails down to your ass, slipping under your pants and giving it a squeeze. You’re pulled even closer to him, practically as close together as two people could be. But this isn’t good enough anymore. Din needs to be on top of you, hands and mouth exploring your body and finding out what makes you squirm.

He pulls you closer to the bed, stopping once you reach the edge and pulling your pants down. He pushes you down on the bed, towering over you while you kick off your shoes. His eyes trail up and down your naked form, looking at all of the signs of the arousal you have for him; the goosebumps on your skin, your perked-up nipples, the way you grasp the sheets on either side of you. But once he spreads your legs apart, he notices something else– how wet you are already. He kneels on either side of your thigh, hand on your inner thigh inching closer to your cunt. He takes off his gloves and tosses them on the floor, swiping two fingers along your wetness and gathering you on his fingertips. You’re soaked, all the anticipation building up inside you. It humors him, knowing how worked up you get over just a kiss on your neck, a hand on your thigh, or your nipples between his fingers. He rubs his thumb against his index and middle finger before pulling his fingers apart and watches the traces of your wetness stretch with the movement.

Your body shudders in response, aching for more of his touch. He brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting your wetness and closing his eyes.

“Din, please,” you beg.

“Are you getting impatient, cin vhetin?” he says, opening his eyes and hovering over your face. There’s a devious look in his eyes, complete with his lips curling into a smirk.

“N-No, I-”

“I said you better get used to me playing with you. Do I need to punish you? Or are you going to be a good girl for me?”

“I’ll be a good girl,” you breathe out, your voice a little higher than normal.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, bringing two fingers to your cunt. He slides them in and just when you think he’s going to move them, curling them against your walls, he doesn’t, keeping them still inside you. It drives you insane, feeling his thick fingers expand your walls with the absence of movement. It makes you writhe against the bed, desperate for any kind of stimulation.

“Din, please. Touch me. Do something.”

His eyes tear away from your cunt and snap back up at you. The devious look in his eyes is back, the yellow in his irises flaring up as he watches you suffer from his teasing. But you’re not being a good girl anymore and for that, you need to be punished.

“I tried to warn you,” he says in a faux mocking tone. His hand moves up by your throat, hanging in the air mere inches above it, and just when you think he’s going to grab your neck he doesn’t. Instead, he’s choking you without touching you at all and you realize he’s force-choking you. It should scare you, knowing that he can hurt you at any moment, that he can hold your life in the palm of his hand, but it doesn’t. If anything it just shows how much trust you have for him. And you can’t deny the lightheaded feeling you have isn’t turning you on even more.

He watches as you grip the sheets, hands clenching and unclenching while the wetness around Din’s fingers multiplies. You’re getting off on this and Din knows it. Finally, he gives you what you want; movement, curling his fingers against your walls while the force-choking on your throat never wavers. It doesn’t take long for you to cum, fingertips pressing against your g-spot as your cunt clenches his fingers. He releases your throat, hovering over your face yet again and staring deep into your eyes.

“You’re a dirty girl, cin vhetin,” he says, grabbing your chin. Your mouth falls agape and he kisses you, a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, his hand moving to your throat now. You’re aching for him, to touch him, to please him, to show him how grateful you are for him.

“Let me do something for you… Please?” you ask, eyes wide and pleading with him.

“Dirty, dirty girl,” he tuts, moving off of you and sitting at the edge of the bed. You follow suit and sink to the floor, face to face with the bulge in his flight suit. You take out his cock, wasting no time stroking it and slipping your tongue in between his foreskin and his head. He moans, head thrown back in pleasure as you suck him off, one of your hands cupping his balls

“You like being a good girl for me?” he moans, moving his hands to either side of your head, looking down at you with a feral expression on his face. You hum, sending a vibration down his shaft and eliciting a deep moan from him. You’re being such a good girl for him, taking care of his needs and desires so well, all while maintaining eye contact with him. The yellow and brown eyes pierce right through you, entrancing you to do anything he wanted with so much as a single word. He’s about to cum before he can, pulls himself out of your mouth, keeping his grip on either side of your head.

“No so fast, cin vhetin,” he says darkly.

You nod, in full understanding of what’s about to happen and you couldn’t be more excited. You rise from the floor and lie down on the bed, watching as he strips layers of weapons and beskar. He takes off his flight suit revealing what he was hiding underneath; tattoos. Simple black lines encircle his forearms up to his biceps and on his left pectoral is a tattoo of a mythosaur. For some reason, you never pictured him with tattoos but now that you’re seeing him standing before you, skin slick with sweat over the ink- it makes sense.

He gets on the bed, situating himself in between your thighs. His face is above yours, wanting to watch the expression on your face as he slides into you. And when he does, your falls open to a soft “O”. He smirks, his cock stretching your walls and hitting the deepest angles inside you. He leans back, retreating his hips and slamming into you again, tears springing in the corners of your eyes.

“Such a good girl for letting me use her like this,” he praises, his pace as he thrusts in and out of you never faltering.

You whimper in response, your mind too consumed with thoughts of him to form a coherent sentence. He brings his hand above your throat, force-choking you again. Between that and his cock sliding in and out of you, you’re on cloud nine. Your walls tense up around him and he knows you’re about to cum.

“Be a good girl and soak my cock,” he commands, the force used on your throat growing stronger. All the anticipation and tension built up in your core releases, rhythmic waves of pleasure spreading throughout your whole body. Your walls flutter around him, drawing his own orgasm from him. He cums inside you and you’re filled with the warm feeling of his release. But then he stays inside you for a moment, eyes locked on you and his body glistening with sweat. His curls are slightly matted, sticking to his forehead with a wild look in his eye and an open-mouthed expression.

“You’re amazing,” he breathes out before leaning forward to kiss you. The kiss is sloppy and messy, from the remnants of the passion he just showed you. He pulls out of you and lies down on the bed. You roll over and rest on his chest, comfortably pressed into the crook of his neck. You rest there together for a moment, two sweaty bodies enjoying the quiet together while your mind races.

You think of everything that led you here; the meeting with Ashoka, being captured, spending Maker knows how long in that call, and being attacked by Officer Tals. And you realize… It was worth it. Whatever path you chose; the choices you made, it was all worth it to lead you here to Din, resting in his arms after he showed you how devoted he is to you.

You poke your head up, looking into his eyes again. The yellow ring in the middle has shrunk a little, leaving more brown. You don’t really know what compels you to tell him this now but you softly say, “I think I’m ready to tell you where the Jedi Academy is.”

His eyes widen and he stays silent, letting you continue.

“It’s on Ossus,” you finish and then you wince in anticipation of what’s going to happen next. You told him what he needed to know. He could be done with you now. He could throw you back in a cell or even worse; he could kill you.

But he doesn’t.

He caresses your cheek. The yellow in his irises completely disappears, revealing warm, brown eyes instead.

“Good girl,” he praises again, leaning forward to kiss your forehead before lying down again and coaxing you to rest with him.

You weren’t imagining it. The devotion is there. All that there's left to do is explore it even further.

End note: I was gonna wait to post this because tomorrow chapter 9 of MAMH comes out but alas. Consider coming out early as a little 1.9k celebration!

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kalevalakryze · 7 months

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Saia

"Why do you paint your armor?" Shin questioned one day, knee propped up against the ledge of the table, artificial light catching the dull silver across their shins.

Sabine glanced up from her pauldron, lifting the brush up just in time to avoid dripping orange all over the drying blue, instead sending a thick blob of paint to drip onto the unprotected table, seeping between once pristine white cracks.

"Mandalorians don't wear their hearts on their sleeve, and many of us choose to cover our faces, so we paint ourselves on our ancestral armor to show the kind of people we are."

"Explain," Their legs lowered from the table, shoulders slouching as they leaned forward, brows furrowing cutely as they focused their entire attention on the artist.

"Well, okay, so our colors aren't random. Each one has some meaning as a whole, one that will be noticed by all Mandalorians, regardless of their standing with a particular group. Grey, that's the color of mourning; You'll be hard pressed to meet any of my people without it, anymore..." The smile slipped from her lips as she brushed her fingers across the plate on her chest.

"Orange is a lust for life, purple is for luck, red..." Her fingers brushed against the dark paint, grimacing at the thought of the paint she though she would never have to spread across her beskar. "Red is the loss a parent; honoring them."

"Blue is the color of reliability, teal is for those that are healing, white is cin vhetin; starting again, gold is the color of vengance, so on and so forth." Picking up a dry brush, Sabine worked away at smoothing and bleeding certain pieces together against the still wet paint on her pauldron.

"It helps us essentially judge the book by it's cover, I guess; A Mandalorian has to be able to really know who they are when they paint their armor, because that determines, or at least, used to, determine if someone was friend or foe."

"Are Mandalorians the only ones who can paint armor?"

"What? No, we don't have exclusive rights to the rainbow," Sabine shook her head. "We had to share with the Zhell," Nose crinkling at her own joke, Sabine lifted her head away from her piece. "Why, you thinking about getting out of the shiny phase?"

Cheeks flushing, Shin's shoulders shrugged as their arms moved to rest on the table, hand reaching across their chest to pull on the neat beaded braid.

"It'd be alright if you were, you know; I always figured you'd look good in blue,"

They snorted, leveling Sabine with a crinkled stare. "You said blue was for Reliability, even after everything, you still believe blue is right?"

"I've never been wrong about what color I used... sometimes the picture around it changes, it's not that the color was bad, or didn't fit the piece, it just needed time to see for itself that it belonged."

Eyebrows furrowing in speculation, their head shook. "Explain it to me like I have never seen color a day in my life,"

"You know, I heard canines may have yellow and blue on the spectrum for their vision," A dorky smile cracked Sabine's face and she had to duck to avoid a flying wet paintbrush that was flung her way.

"The point is, Kurs'kaded, you figured it out... I can't lie and say I didn't doubt it, that I was sure you would stay true to it in the end, because really, i was certain you would have let him kill us..."

Shin's expression dropped at the reminder of Peridea, the reminder of why they were aboard the Jedi's T-6, and not with their Master.

"But you did it, you kept your word... you're just,,, blue."

Shin's lips twisted in a mix of thought and doubt.

"But here, just... Gimme one piece, and I'll think on it for a few days; I'll put on it what I really think of you,"

With reluctance, Shin slid the vambrace from their right wrist, placing it on the table with a heavy thunk. "And here, so you aren't running around without armor," The artist removed her own gauntlet, motioning for them to extend their wrist.

The grey and gold beskar fell shorter than the steel alloy vambrace, stopping at only halfway up her arm instead of closer to her elbow. Shifting uncomfortably, they nodded in false understanding, got up, and promplty exited the room without another word. "Gotta stop giving women emotional talks; they keep walking out on me," The Mandalorian grumbled to herself, picking their pauldron off of the table and turning it in her hands.

▬▬ι═══════>

"Hey, Shin, wait up!" Sabine ducked out of the ghost and into the bustling hangar, grateful to catch Shin and Ahsoka on their way out of the T-6. "I finished your armor!" The adrenaline from the dogfight still rushing through her veins.

Shin blinked once at Sabine, raising their left arm to check the beskar gauntlet on their wrist, seemingly for the first time. "It took you a while,"

"Told you I had to think about it more, now come on," Sabine grabbed a hold of the Apprentice's arm, just above her gauntlet, guiding Shin back through the hangar to the ghost. Hera met their eyes and offered a knowing smile and shake of her head.

"Please don't put anymore paint on my floors!" The General called to their retreating forms, rolling her eyes at the promises from the Mandalorian bouncing back to her. "Kids,"

"Hey, she takes after you more than you'd think," Ahsoka defended with a snarky smile spreading on her face.

"Ta-da!" Sabine guided Shin inside her old room, still thick with the lingering smell of dried paint, hair dye, and the many different perfumes and colognes she'd sprayed over the years. The rebel picked up a decorated piece from the bunk, though it seemed unrecognizable to the blonde now.

The entire piece was painted a dark grey, gold outlining every scratch and dent, with dark blue paint swirling from every notch, interconnecting into a personal galaxy. White and red speckled the purples and blues in their background of mourning, creating a constellation of 'stars' that formed the image of a large wolf in the red, and a smaller wolf in the white.

"It took me a while to figure it out, but I wouldn't take back a single drop," Reaching back again, Sabine pulled the late retrieved hand plate from her pillow. Teal, blue, green, and white clashed together in the form of a crashing wave, a circle of unpainted middle sitting nestled in the darkest of blue, a Moon to always take with them.

They were sad to give up Sabine's gauntlet after weeks of learning how to use beskar to their advantage, and at first, the colors had been an overwhelming distraction. Eventually though, Shin began to embrace the colors they showed to the world, and Sabine was more than glad to help Shin see past what they may have thought of themselves before, and maybe it was a little bit to keep the light from being reflected into her eye when the sun caught her in the middle of staring at them.

#ask prompt #kind of #did you want me to write this?#idc #i did it anyways #sabine wren #shin hati #wolfwren #sabine x shin #shin x sabine #armor #paint

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mamuzzy · 7 months

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"Cin Vhetin." The small silence indicated, Dogma had no idea what Commander Fox just said and felt shame. Lack of knowledge never was an excuse during exams, and proved to be deadly on the battlefield. But Fox's eyes gazed him as if he was waited for an answer - patiently as ever with him -, at least he could be professional even if it caused dissappointment to his Commander. "I… I don't understand, sir" said sheepishly, face flushed, eyes to the ground. "Eyes up, Dogma. Look at me." Dogma instantly straightened, clicked his heels like a good soldier he was. "Yes, sir!" Fox let out a small chuckle. "Cin Vhetin" repeated. "It means 'White field', ground covered with fresh, virgin snow. From this point, no matter what happened in the past, no matter what have you done, what choices you have made, your footsteps you are about to take will not leave traces of your old self. Because from now on, you are a new person and your journey once again starts with new posibilities, new challenges, and of course, new mistakes to be made." Dogma's eyes widened as tried to find understanding in Fox's words. He wanted to trust. He wanted to believe it was possible to start over, to erase his past. He couldn't have been able to do this at the 501st, but here, at the Coruscant Guard, was it really an option? "Commander, sir, I don't want to repeat my mistakes." "Then don't" said Fox, just like that. "Thrive for the better." "What if I choose wrong again?" Dogma looked pleadingly at Fox to answer the thousands of what ifs that filled his aching heart and racing mind. "What if I put you in danger too because... because the way I am?" "Dogma, remember" Fox reached out to gently grab Dogma's shoulder to ground him. "You are not alone. I - WE - will guide you. We are here for you to help you through your first steps and beyond too. We won't let your hand, understand? But you have to start to take that first step on the white field: to finally forgive yourself." A familiar feeling stinged the corners of Dogma's eyes. The pressure what tormented him for weeks since he was out of his cell just released in a form of tears. "Understood, sir." "Will you try that for me?" "Yes, sir" he nodded with a stifled sniff. Fox smiled at him. "Good man."

I went with soft words of reassurance! Aaaaa, I'm sorry @persephoneofhades, when I tried to save your ask as a draft, the whole thing went missing into the void along with your message. .__. Thank you for the prompt, your patience, and I hope you like it! <3

First I had an idea that I draw him with Rex but it just didn't work. I can totally imagine that Rex praises his men randomly with an occasional "good job!" and such but to express reassurance on personal level to whom he isn't close to? I don't think so. So I decided it will be Corrie!Dogma and Fox.

I love Dogma. Precious baby boy. And I love corrie!Dogma too. Wether he was secretly snatched out of the prison or Fox and Rex remained good brothers to come up with a plan about discreetly integrating Dogma into the CG, I really love the AUs where he gets a chance to redeem himself and find a family he can bond with and learn the true meaning of having brothers to watch your back.

#clone trooper dogma #corrie!dogma #dogma #commander fox #coruscant guard #the clone wars #star wars #peony draws stuff #peony answers #ask game #peony writes stuff

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corazondebeskar-reads · 7 months

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Kinktober 2023 - Day 7 (Din Djarin & Paz Vizsla)

For Manda'yaim

Din Djarin x f!reader, Paz Vizsla x f!reader, other unnamed COTW Mandalorians x f!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Now that they have reclaimed their homeworld, the Children of the Watch resurrect an ancient ritual to secure the future of their people. Reader is one of the volunteers chosen to bear the next generation of Mando'ade.

Warnings: Dub-con, CNC, Reader is consenting but unable to withdraw consent, Bondage, Gangbang, Drugged sex, Unconscious sex, Anonymous sex, Children of the Watch are a cult, cult behavior, ritual sex, breeding, breeding rituals, creampies, unrealistic amounts of cum, vaginal plugging, p in v, gratuitous use of Mando'a, religious imagery, no y/n

Inspired by @absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 prompt list

also on ao3

The chamber is cold. It is deep in the belly of the mines, and not even the fire in the hearth can warm the small waiting area. Your beskar’gam, save for your helmet, is tucked away in the wardrobe, and you’ve donned the gauzy black shift left folded neatly on the shelf. Now, all you can do is wait.

You don’t have to wait long. The door to the main room slides open. The Armorer stands in the doorway, intimidating as ever, though you do not fear your alor. She says nothing, but you follow her out into the ceremonial chamber.

It’s domed, completely crafted of smooth, dark stone. She brings you to stand on the bridge before the chamber’s enormous entrance. The bridge rises from the hall outside but is seamless where it turns to obsidian. Even the stone dais in the center looks like the room was carved around it.

Stripped away to reveal the greater purpose beneath.

The bridge leads into the water rather than over. The slow flow of the stream encircles the center platform, but to cross, one must enter the shallow pool at the foot of the path.

The Armorer stands at the edge of the water. Your heart is pounding so loud you think you can hear it echo in the chamber.

“Do you wish to proceed?” she asks, lilting voice as commanding and regal as you remember.

“I do.” You hope your faith rings solid beneath the waver of your voice.

If she doubts you, she does not show it.

“Very well. Do you willingly offer your vessel to the Ka’ra, to accept the manda within you, for Manda’yaim?”

Will you let the kings of old grant you the very essence of your people for the good of Mandalore? Of course. “Oya manda.”

“Oya manda,” she agrees, something warm seeping from under her cold, unmoving composition. “Step forward.”

You do, bare feet brushing softly against stone, until you are within reach. Her hands find the lip of your helmet and unlatch the seal, lifting its heft from your neck. Frigid air creeps up, but you shiver more from being exposed than the cold.

She holds your helmet in one arm and steps back into the water. You follow, surprised to find it generously warm. As you settle on your knees, the water lapping up to your waist serves as a balm to your nerves.

You take the curved pot from her other hand when offered and drink of the hot tea within before sinking it below the stream at your knees. The water rushes into it, desperate to fill the gap it left behind. When you raise it, the excess flows over your fingers.

The drink has settled in your core, warmth flooding your veins. You will leave the fears behind there, to be swept from the chamber on the ebb and flow.

The Armorer takes it and holds it aloft. “None shall see your face but I, and when you leave these waters, you will be granted cin vhetin.”

She tilts the pot, warm water rushing down your face.

“Vor entye,” you pledge as the last rivulets drip down, looking at the Armorer through sodden lashes.

“You owe no debt,” she corrects. “It is the reward for your sacrifice. Rise.”

You stand and follow her onto the platform. A thick pad is laid atop the tall stone table. You shed the robe and take comfort in that she sees your bareness as devotion and not transgression.

The haze of the tincture that laced the tea nestles around you. Like when your buir used to carry you to bed after long days of training, when you didn’t last through the songs around the fire past twilight. You climb onto the table, and your body is pliant as she secures it into place.

The thick straps are for your safety, not imprisonment. They keep you tethered to the table and to Manda’yaim while your soul drifts between realms. You pray the Ka’ra won’t find you lacking.

You are secured on your knees, spread wide, and your arms forward in supplication. Your head is held bowed, and the veil is secured to the restraint.

The expanse of the galaxy is settling in around you. You don’t fight it when your vision fades.

There are two men in the room. Two of your vod. They wear no helmets and will be cleansed in the pools before returning to the surface. But no barriers can be permitted between you, and the chamber is sacred.

They don’t look at one another out of respect. They will come and go in pairs, taking turns to feed your womb and ensure your safety.

The Mand’alor is the first to give sacrament at your altar. When the doors are shut, he lifts his helm and anoints himself from the sleek pot. Behind him, Paz remains concealed. He will not shed his helmet until it is his turn, and so he will remain on the bridge to stand guard.

As Din crosses the waters, he pauses to take in your prone form. The swell of your ass in the air, the arch of your spine. The sweet, tender core of you, softly parted for him. He reaches up to run his fingers through your folds. There’s a light dew, there, but you are not ready.

“Don’t tell me this is your first, vod’ika,” Paz calls.

Din disregards the taunt, stroking through your lips until he finds the gem at your apex. With one hand gently rubbing your cheek, he spreads you open a little more and tastes.

“I don’t think that’s generally part of the process,” Paz notes.

“Shut up, vod,” Din sighs. “Should we not be grateful and ease the passage? Besides, she’s sweet. You’ll miss out.”

“I’ll have my turn,” Paz says gruffly.

“Ah, but only after she tastes of me.” Din grins smugly when Paz groans.

“Get on with it. I want to spend as little time with your naked shebs as possible.”

Din returns his lips to your cunt. He could admit he was being a little selfish, but he truly did want to shoulder some of your burden. Couldn’t leave his martyr to suffer. You or the others who had volunteered to bear the future of their planet.

When he’s certain you can take him without difficulty, he withdraws his mouth and fingers, though savoring the way you linger on his tongue.

When he sinks into you, the pleasure he had coaxed from your body eases his way. You accept him, welcome his offering, and he can’t help but devote his attentions to your pliant flesh. Soft moans slip through your peaceful exhalations. Your warm cunt clenches around him, your hips gently rocking back to meet him. You serve your Mand’alor even in sleep, and he bathes you in praise.

You’re submerged. You swim in the Living Waters, and breathe it in as easy as the air. The voices on the surface are low and rumbling, and you drift lower, free to explore, knowing your vod are on the shore. They won’t let you drown. The water is so dark, but when light breaks through, the beskar veins beneath you are all alight.

There is pressure all around you, like a cradle. And you are so, so full. You think maybe the Waters will keep you, consume you. The current fills you, and you let it sink you down, down, down.

Back in the pool at the foot of the dais, Din cleanses his cock of you, but not his soul.

He slides the helmet back over his head and gives a nod to Paz. “For Manda’yaim.”

“For Manda’yaim,” Paz dips his head to Din. When the Mand’alor turns to respect his vod’s wishes, he removes the helmet.

They are both grave now. Bare, but more encumbered than while clad in full beskar'gam. All teasing and taunting has been swept away in the meandering stream.

Not to be outdone by Din, Paz also brings you to your peak with his lips and tongue against your clit. He doesn’t dare lick into you, not out of an aversion to his vod’s taste, but to preserve as much of the Mand’alor’s seed in you as possible.

Paz is broader than his vod’ika in all ways. He expects to find some resistance when he enters you, but the tightness and heat almost make him spill early. That wouldn’t do, not when he would have to hear about it for all of eternity.

He’s brash and impulsive but never uncaring, so his fingers seek your clit as Din’s had. But as he finds a steady rhythm, an unbidden sadness blossoms in his chest.

He’s fairly certain he knows who you are, though he shouldn’t dwell on it. And though he holds no anger to the rest of his vod who will make their tributes to you today, he does wish you’d told him. Or Djarin.

They could have had you, just the two of them, if that’s what you wanted. And who better to gift you a life than the Mand’alor and his General?

Despite the undercurrent of regret, he feels proud. Proud that his vod’ika would give herself to the tribe, would sing the oldest song of their people, and receive nothing less than pure manda in reward. And the image of you, belly round beyond your beskar, sends him over the edge, fingers digging into your hips as he fills you.

It’s long after the sun has set when the Armorer and the Mand’alor return to the chamber. It matters not, as no light can reach you in the depths under the sacred city. This time, when Din approaches the dais, he is fully armored, helmet in place. He takes a box from the Armorer and opens it to reveal the sizeable, solid beskar plug and lifts it from the silky cushion.

You’re overflowing, your body simply unable to contain the twenty or so loads you were offered, their consecrations dripping obscenely from your red, swollen cunt. You jerk against the bonds and moan, half pleasure and half agony, when he parts your lips with one hand—the only part of him left bare.

The plug finds no resistance, but it does displace some of the cum, oozing down your leg. No matter, Din thinks. Most of it remains, and he’s certain he will not have been spilled, not with his seed at the deepest of your core. When the plug is in place, he uses the pot to cleanse you, to bring you back to the surface.

When you begin to stir, he leaves.

Mando'a translations (in order of appearance): Manda'yaim - the planet Mandalore Beskar'gam - Beskar armor alor - leader Ka'ra - the stars/ancient Kings from Mandalorian mythology Manda - the collective Mandalorian soul Oya manda - a Mandalorian saying showing eternal solidarity cin vhetin - a blank slate (here used to indicate that the removal of the helmet is forgiven for this ritual) Vor entye - formal "thank you" carrying a debt of gratitude buir - parent Vod - brothers/sisters (in arms/loyalty, not literal) Mand'alor - the ruler of the Mandalorians Vod'ika - little brother Shebs - ass (Source: mandoa.org)

#din djarin x reader #paz vizsla x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fic #dead dove do not eat #kinktober 2023 #corazondebeskar reads and writes #the mandalorian smut #this is a different style than my others #we will return to your regularly scheduled debauchery tomorrow

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constantlymisspelled · 8 months

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Mandalorian Armour Colours

Armour Colour meanings and Classifications

Perhaps it's a little ridiculous, but with more and more fans wanting a full comprehensive guide to colours, and my own frustration at not being able to find the fanon colour charts of old, here we are. For both your sake, and mine, please don't be upset if anyone doesn't utilise this guide, it is after all a guide, and only a fanmade compilation. If anyone has any criticisms, that's what edit is for, and if you want further definition, do not hesitate to let me know in the comments.

The Classicly Accepted;

[This section is the clolours accepted by Canon Media, both Disney and Legends. I will include a colour swatch and the Taubman's pallet code for ease of use. If there are colours you wish to see evaluated, or meanings you wish to infer, let me know.]

[The tiles above are literally the closest I could find to Jaster's colour, and to Boba's visor colours. The left is Red Alert, T12 26.H5, and the right is Crossfire, T15 196.6.]

Red - Ge'tal

'Honouring a parent.' This colour has been seen on the edge of Boba Fett's visor for years, and has been a staple Mandalorian colour for a long time. Honouring a parent is considered acceptable in most forms of Mandalorian Society, hence its widespread use. Honouring does not have to mean morning, and when some Mandalorians move past the grief of a lost loved one, or parent, they move to change the greys to reds, or oranges, in remembrance not of their death, but the life that family member - usually a provider in this case - had lived.

White - Cin

'A new start/Clean slate.' The literal translation for the phrase describing white on armour (Cin Vhetin) is 'White field,' or 'Snow Covoured Field.' It creates the notion that you are starting over, as winter has come, and it covers all that you used to be, allowing you to completely restructure yourself before spring arrives to thaw it, as a totally new person, with new honour and oaths to fulfil. Often associated with adult adoptions, or redemption vows completed, signifying new life.

[The image above features Jaster as he was in the first issue of Jango Fett - Open Seasons. It is accessible (the pic) on wiki, and I'm pretty sure the comic is available on most comic archives. Jaster's colour are, famously, dark grey, black, red and the yellow Haat Mando'ade Crest.]

Black - Ne'tra

Justice - the colour of Mandalorians whose moral code is unshakable. A notable wearer of this colour is Jaster Mereel himself. Most kute are often this colour, or dark blue (navy) and in most cases that is for cost reasons, and to prevent staining. However, black is the colour of night, and of Death - an important concept to all Mandalorian Sects - and creates a sense of uniformity amongst even the most visually different individuals. Justice, Death, and all that this might entail is a corner stone of Mandalorian culture and perception. One cannot live if they do not accept that Death is a possibility. Black can denote serving of justice, seeking justice, or preserving it.

Grey - Genet

'Honouring lost love, or mourning a lost loved one'. The separate shades of Grey have meaning in some Clans and Houses, but across most of Mandalorian Space, Grey is to signify the passing of a loved one. It can even be worn if either a Clan has been lost, or if a member has been excommunicated. There are also occasions of possible ven'riduur wearing the colour when another warrior gets there before them.

[The above image is the reverse of the New Zealand Free State of Niue's reverse coin. Gold does not promote prestige in Mandalorian culture, but danger. If dressed in gold, one is to be weary.]

Gold - Ve'vut

Vengeance, a common place, and important part of Mandalorian Culture and Law. Methods of vengeance are protected and controlled by Mandalorian Law. Acts that go from vengeance to Revenge can face serious consequence. Outsiders that meet warriors in this colour are warned to practice caution. A Mandalorian's wealth is not decided by the colour of their armour, but of their actions, and gold denotes a thirst for vengeance, in a control, personal manner.

[The image to the left is Nocturne Shade, T15 139.6, and the image to the right is Bright Cerulean, T15 138.7. I included a vivid and deep blue to show the scope of what is considered baseline, before entering Light Blue, Sky Blue, or Navy. I chose as close as I could to Jango Fett's armour, and both Paz Vizsla, and Vizsla House.]

Blue - Kebiin

Reliability, a warrior and Mandalorian who is secure in who they are, what they are capable of, and what they have to offer the galaxy. Warriors in their prime often wear this colour. It is often taken as a show of subtle faith and loyalty to whichever leader these particular Mandalorians serve. Blue is also often worn by mercenaries and Journeyman to create a sense of calm and trust between them and their charges. Blue is often seen as a solid, and dependable colour, and associated with leadership, and their support. Blue is the colour of the Mandalorian Protectors Universal Sigil. Parents who are raising children alone also wear this colour, as a way of reinforcing the belief that they can care for their child alone - a rare occurrence in Mandalorian Space.

Orange -

lust for life, shereshoy

[The colour to the right is literally as close as I could get to Boba Fett's armour. The image on the left is Irish Stone, T15 164.7, and the right is Deep Veridian, T10 54F-2.]

Green - Vorpan

Duty - often considered the workers' colour, green represents hard work, and deep commitment to a cause, a task, an ideal, or an action. Many members of the Fett House predominantly wear this colour as a nod to their humble beginnings, and many farmers and tradespeople wear some small segment of green to denote their occupation. The kind of green, and the way it is worn can also denote different trades and employment types, although like with most colours, each mandalorian is ultimately able to make decisions for themself on what their colours mean to them.

The Observed and Official Greater House uses;

[This section is for Fanon, or non-official colours. The Mandalorian Mercs and other cosplay groups have commonly accepted colour codes, as do some sections of the Fanfic writing community. If anyone has any colour ideas, do let me know, and feel free to leave a link to other colour charts in the notes! It's my ambition to make sourcing knowledge on Mandalorian culture easier and easier for newer fans.]

[Image for Beskar Silver was taken from the Etsy Adds for Beskar Ingots. There are multiple companies and craftspeople that make these - vey cool! I can not let myself buy any. I can not!!!]

Silver - Beskar

The Colour of unpainted beskar, the associated meanings are either that you have not had the chance to paint it, or if you are in full, evidently in use armour, that you have no right to wear paint. It is the assumed non-colours of the Silver Children (An Elite Group of Mandalorian Ori'ramikade) and the Naasaade (the Nameless Society, a group of Mandalorians who have either been put towards the path of redemption by order, or by choice) and of many bounty hunters of the Outer Rim who seek to keep their clan affiliations a secret. It is widely believed that if any Mandalorian is to have honour, it is one in silver, as it infers that this particular Mandalorian will do all that is possible to be seen as honourable once more by themselves, others, their clan, and the Ka'ra.

[The image on the left is Blue Booties (I know right?), T15 142.1, and the image on the right is Reflection, T15 142.2. I included an eggshell blue, and a powder, almost greenish pale blue. I even checked the definition of Cyan for you. Essentially, really light teal, like, really light.]

Cyan, or Sky Blue -

'New Love', often used as the symbol of engagement. Most Mandalorians cannot afford to exchange and modify pieces of their armour from one partner to another, and so instead of this practice from the eras of battlefield weddings, most unmarried warriors are encouraged to carry a small vial of this colour paint instead. This is a practice seen more amongst the traditionalists, who believe in earning armour on your own merit, and not upon the backs of others. Other methods of using this colour is in Cyan Beads upon your kute, or the addition of decorative cord upon a warrior's shoulder to denote engagement, or new marriage.

The Two Shades of Purple

[Purple is a difficult colour. Caught between red and blue, and having so many varied shades and meanings across both Mandalore, and the fandom, I've done my best to create the general feel of what purple means to a culture obsessed with living life to the fullest, and honouring your oaths.]

[Image on the left has Imperial Violet, T15 211.4, and the image on the right has Purple Statice, T15 210.5. I grabbed both a warm and cool variety for those of you with colour schemes to match. Purple is a colour often associated in fandom with chance, hope, and luck.]

a) Lavender, or Violet

The colour of luck and chance, Violet and Lavender are supposed to be a sign of recognition and faith to the old Mandalorian God and Spirit of Luck, and although belief in the Gods has long since faded, folklore still holds most shades of lighter purple as the colour of chance, change, and good futures. It is a common colour for new parents wishing to do right by their children.

[Image on the left is Imperial Purple, T15 213.7, and the image on the right is Royal Indigo, T15 130.7. Again, I have used both warm and cool shades to allow as much versatility as possible with colour palletes.]

b) Indigo

Often considered the colour of hope, Indigo and its shades are often used to mean the same things as other shades of purple, and when paired with colours such as Cyan, and Teal, or even most forms of blue, is meant to inspire a sense of gratitude, or gratefulness for victory, present peace, currently good fortune and such, whilst lighter shades are meant to bring said fortune.

[Image on the left is Tapestry Teal, T15 153.6, and the image on the right is Lagoon Teal, T15 153.5. Both Teals are on the lighter side, but you can absolutely go darker in this colour and have the same meaning.]

Teal -

Considered the unofficial colours of the New Mandalorians, the colour was originally worn only by medics, emergency workers, and those who had retired from active combat. It was supposed to be the colour of those who had seen violence, and stood up to atrocities in the name of peace. It is now considered a cowards colour amoungst Kyrtsaade circles, and New Mandalorians forbade its application in armour as a falsehood and a breaking of the Healers Code. However, Traditionalists and Way Followers still view it as the colour of choice for more reserved, shrewd verde who fight as a last resort.

[images above are to the left, Minty Green, T15 165.3, and to the right, Sherbet Lime, T15 167.3. Once again, included a warm and cool option.]

Light Green -

'Lust for peace', 'The Guardian', or 'Peace Keeper's Colours'. Often used by warriors who practice non-lethal forms of combat - guards that utilise stun batons and blanks instead of live ammunition. Under the New Mandalorians, it became indistinguishable from Teal and its meanings, but in all other forms of Mandalorian culture, Light Green is used for warriors and guards of sacred r special places, such as schools, hospitals, or the water ways. Light Green is a deeply respected, and widely used colour, even if its meaning has been watered down and misinterpreted by the galaxy at large.

Yellow - Shi'yayc

Dark Green

Dark Blue

Tan

Brown

Cream/Beige

Maroon and Burgundy

[I couldn't pick one... Image above contains Baby Girl, Pigtail Pink, River Rouge, Spring Pink, Jaguar Rose, After the Dance, Flamenco Fire, Turkish Delight, Pink Flambe, Pink Clay Pot, Bold Flame and Strawberry Splash. The codes are found on Taubmans website.]

Pink -

Respect, Knowledge, and Respected. Interestingly, pink in Mandalorian Space is a colour of status, as a unification of white and red, it combines the ideas of horouring those that raised you, and your new beginnings, and the outcome became the colour pink. Different shades mean different things in the more secular coverts, but it is important to note that field archivists, officers, and journalists have a tendency to wear at least some pink.

Additional Colours and Varieties;

Metallics

Mattes and Gloss

Patterning

Symbols of the Mandalorians;

The symbols used in Mandalore are vast, and complicated, and often the colour can change the meaning of the symbol. Colour is, as always, up to the discretion and particular tastes of the Mandalorian in question, but there are common associations, and symbols mandated for use by specific beings.

[Extrapolation will be added]

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[Wrote this for my own use, and as a guide on mainstream Mandalore and the subsects we might actually see in Disney media (can you see me distancing their bizarre writing from myself? can you??) after all, the official website lists Din's armour as grey? What?? Bro, no.]

Resources;

The only copy of the old Fan Canon List I could find:

[Fanon List in image is as follows; Purple - Luck, Pink - Respected or Respecting Someone, White - Purity, Brown - Valor, Maroon - Power, Light Green - Lust for Peace, Scarlet - Defiance, Silver - Seeking Redemption, Yellow - Remembrance, Teal - Healing.]

Found on Pinterest. It used to part of one of the cosplay forums, but I can no longer find it. It runs off old canon. There are some issues with the list, but ah well.

Mandalorian Mercs Forum; [here]

They're rather official, and a great deal of their stuff is incredibly helpful, but I find their website hard to navigate. Probably just me though.

Mandalorian Wikipedia Colours; [here]

It doesn't have any of the extended fanon colours, but it dos have an in depth expose on what colour canon and EU Legends has provided us with.

Mando'a Translator; [here]

Not entirely sure how well it works, but it does simple words fine. Its sentence structure is terrible, just like all translate apps, so be warned.

Mando'a Dictionary and Forum; [here]

This Mando'a dictionary has got to be the most comprehensive I have found, however there are still mistakes. The only reason I know that is I printed the whole thing and read it like some kind of nerd.

Mandalorian Colour Definition found on Tumblr;[here]

This one is made by another user, I am unsure of their sources, but it matches closely with a great deal that I have found, so it’s pretty accurate so far.

Another Handy Mando'a forum; here

If there are any other helpful websites and links you can think of, let me know. The Codex will have reference to this chart at some stage, but I'll get to that later. I'm just religiously ignoring the Mandalorian Cookbook I started whilst sick last year. You never hear of it, it never existed.

[I will update this as I make further research.]

#star wars #mandalorian culture #mandalorians #mandalore #mandalorian language #mandalorian colours #mandalorian armour #mandalorian lore #mando'ade #mando'a

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