#saviin is like

[saviin-art]

Breathe and enjoy ⛓️

Full on my twitter here

Consider tipping me on ko-fi! ☕

[g00seg1raffe]

Cursory research into the meanings of Mandalorian armour colours...

Black - ne'tra = justice, an unshakeable moral code (also wanting to avoid stains on your clothes)

White - cin vhetin = a fresh start or clean slate (good for converts/adult adoptions)

Grey - genet = mourning a loved one (or recently rejected)

Gold - ve'vut = vengeance (a warning colour)

Silver - shev'la beskar = unpainted armour, a search for redemption (Din Djarin's guilt complex, anyone?)

Bronze - tranyc'bes - nobility and high status (favoured by stuck-up self-important jackasses)

Brown - daryc - valour, galantry, The Audacity (particularly when associated with them cunty lil jedi cape drops)

Tan - vhekadla - loyalty (lit. 'sandy' but I don't like sand, it's coarse and rough and...)

Maroon - daryc'tal - power (all hail Maroon 5, our benevolent overlords)

Red - ge'tal = honouring a parent (very popular, 10/10)

Scarlet - galar'tal - defiance and relentlessness (Mandalorian Scarlett Johansson omfg be still my bi heart)

Orange - shereshoy = shereshoy, a lust for life (the party people)

Yellow - shi'yayc - remembrance, burnt out vengeance (makes for funky funerals)

Jade Green - ahan'vorpan - lust for peace, guardians and peacekeepers (does not necessarily mean I want to fuck guardians and peacekeepers, get your head outta the gutter)

Green - vorpan = duty, commitment and hard work (favourite of farmers, too)

Teal - jahaal = healing, violence as a last resort, I've seen some shit and now I defend peace (favoured by healers and New Mandalorians)

Blue - kebiin = reliability and faithfulness (favoured by single parents)

Sky Blue - kebii'tra = new love, newlyweds, marriage and all that fluffy stuff (Satine's famous jewellery TCW S2 - ObiTine for the soul)

Indigo - jiisaviin = prosperity, victory, the feeling that we have achieved our hopes (tempting fate, perhaps)

Lilac - saviin = luck, change, survival in adversity, hope for the future (associated with the old God of Luck)

Pink - cin ge'tal - respect and knowledge, a fusion of past and future (associated with journalists and academics)

Ofc this is a rough guide and if anyone either doesn't like my sense of humor or wants more detailed information, check out these posts too: x x x x

EDIT: @ranahan you've opened my eyes. Bro pointed out that after the Dral'han - aka the Annhilaton aka that one time the entire planet got carpet bombed - the entire surface of Mandalore is covered in the star wars equivalent of Trinitite, a pale green glass formed by the heat and pressure of atomic bombs. This isn't just normal green mixed with white, it's the colour of the absolute destruction of our home, and the grim determination to never let anything like this happen ever again. So, ahan'vorpan ("desolation green") instead of cin vorpan ("white green").

[ranahan]

Mando’a masterpost

Most of my Mando’a linguistic nerdery you should be able to find under the hashtags #mando’a linguistics and #ranah talks mando’a. Specific topics like phonology and etymology are tagged on newer posts but not necessarily on older. I also reblog lots of other people’s fantastic #mando’a stuff, which many of these posts are replies to.

I also post about #mandalorian culture, other #meta: mandalorians and #star wars meta topics, #star wars languages, #conlangs, and #linguistics. I like to reblog well-reasoned and/or interesting takes on Star Wars and Mandalorian politics, but I am not pro or contra fictional characters or organisations, only pro good storytelling. You can use the featured tags to navigate most of these topics. Not Star Wars content tag is #not star wars, although if it’s on this blog, likely it’s tangentially related or at least Mandalorian-coded.

Currently working on an expanded dictionary and an analysis of canon Mando’a. Updates under #mando’a project. Here are my thoughts on using my stuff (tldr: please do). My askbox is open & I’d love to hear which words, roots or other features you want to see dissected next.

#Phonology

Mando’a vowels

Murmured sounds in Mando’a

Ven’, ’ne and ’shya—phonology of Mando’a affixes

#Morphology

Mando’a demonyms: -ad or -ii?

Agent nouns in Mando’a

Reduplication in Mando’a

Verbal conjugation in Ancient Mando’a & derivations in Modern Mando’a

-nn

Adjectival suffixes (this one is skierunner’s theory, but dang it’s good and it’s on my post, so I’m including it) — here’s another great theory (not mine)!

e-, i- (prefix) “-ness”

#Syntax

Middle Mando’a creole hypothesis — Relative tenses — Tense, aspect and mood & creole languages — Copula and zero copula in creole languages — More thoughts about Mando’a TAM particles

Mando’a tense/aspect/mood (headcanons)

Mando’a has no passive

Adjectives as passive voice & other strategies

Colloquial Mando’a

Alienable/inalienable possession — more thoughts

Translating wh-words into Mando’a

#Roots, words & etymology

ad ‘child’—but also many other things

adenn, ‘wrath’

akaan & naak: war & peace

an ‘all’ + a collective suffix & plural collectives

ba’ & bah

*bir-, birikad, birgaan & again

cetar ‘kneel’

cinyc & shiny

gai’ka, ka’gaht, la’mun

jagyc, ori’jagyc & misandry

janad

*ka-, kakovidir & cardinal directions

ke’gyce ‘order, command’

*maan-, manda, gai bal manda, kir’manir, ramaan & kar’am & runi: ‘soul’ & ‘spirit’

*nor- & *she- ‘back’ (+ bonus *resh-)

projor ‘next’

riduurok, riduur, kom’rk, shuk’orok

*sak-, sakagal ‘cross’

*sen- ‘fly’

tapul

urmankalar ‘believe’

*ver- ‘earn’

*ya-, yai, yaim (& flyby mentions of eyayah, eyaytir, gayiyla, gayiylir, aliit)

Dialectal English & slang in Mando’a

#Non-canon words

Mining vocabulary

Non-canon reduplications

Many words for many Mandalorians

What’s the word for “greater mandalorian space”?

Names of Mandalorian planets

Dral’Han & derived words

besal ‘silver, steel grey’

derivhaan

hukad & hukal, ’sheath, scabbard’

*maan-, manda, kar’am & runi: ‘soul’ & ‘spirit’ & derivations

mara/maru, ‘amber-root’

*sen- ‘fly’ derivations

tarisen ‘swoop bike’

*ver- ‘earn’ derivations

#mando’a proverbs

#mando’a idioms

Pragmatics & ethnolinguistics

Middle Mando’a creole hypothesis

History of Mando’a — Loanwords in Mando’a

Mando’a timeline

Mandalorian languages

#mandalorian sign language

Kinship terms

Politeness in Mando’a: gedet’ye & ba’gedet’ye — vor entye, vor’e, n’entye — vor’e etc. again — n’eparavu takisit, ni ceta

Mandalorians and medicine, baar’ur, triage

#Mandalorian colour theory (#mandalorians and color): cin & purity, colour associations & orange, cin, ge’tal, saviin & besal, gemstone symbolism

#Mandalorian nature, Flora and fauna of Manda’yaim

starry road

Concordian dialogue retcon

A short history of the Mandalorian Empire

Mandalorian clans & government headcanons

Mando’a handwriting guide: part 1, part 2, part 3

What I would have done differently if I had constructed Mando’a

FAQ

Can you answer a question about combat medicine? May I direct you to my post about Free tactical medicine learning resources.

Can I use your words/headcanons in my own projects? Short answer: yes—if I shared it I meant for you to steal it. If you make something transformative, no need to credit me; if you want to copy-paste large chunks of my writing, just credit and mark any changes appropriately.

Do you do translations? If I happen to be in the mood or your translation question is interesting. Feel free to bomb my inbox, but don’t expect quick answers.

What’s your stance on Satine Kryze and the New Mandalorians? They’re fictional and I don’t have one beyond their narrative being interesting & wishing that fandom would have civil conversations about them without calling each other names.

Why do you portray Mandalorians as multi-racial and gender-agnostic when they’re not that diverse in canon? Because that’s the power of transformative works: to create the kind of representation we want to see in a world where it’s lacking.

LGBTQIA? I don’t stand for any shade of discrimination. If I say something insensitive, rest assured it’s because I temporarily misplaced my other brain cell, not because of malice.

NSFW? No. This is a linguistics blog, so cursing and some explicit vocabulary should be expected—slang is one of my interests, and vulgar language comes with the territory—but no porn here. I don’t believe in nudity or sex in themselves being taboo topics and I was a medic for a good chunk of my life, so frank discussions about sex education/medical/anatomical/trauma topics might also happen. I’ll try to tag if these topics come up, but frankly my own explicitness- and gore-meter is kinda broken after a career in emergency medicine, so things might slip by.

Asks under #ranah answers

P.s. Let me know if the links don’t work or something else is wrong (some items don’t have links, they are articles in my draft folder/queue which I’ve listed here so they don’t get lost… although that might be a lost cause). Also please tell me if you need me to tag something I haven’t so you can filter it: this blog is for readers—if I was writing just for myself, I wouldn’t bother to edit and publish—so let me know what I can do to make it work better for you. Thanks!

[poedjarinwrites]

STAR GIRL | DIN DJARIN

Masterlist

'my mother called me her star girl...'

Din Djarin x fem!OC

Kenny, Jyn, Saviin, Bela... just a few of the names she has gone by over the years. Constantly on the run from the empire and bounty hunters alike our heroine must try to survive in this unfair galaxy.

strangers to enemies to friends to lovers -the clone wars, season 7 -kenobi -the mandalorian, season one-

Prologue, the prey

.0, mother

Act One, the apprentice

.1, like father, like daughter .2, satine .3, his favourite daughter

Act Two, the daughter

.4, thief .5, breakfast .6, stars .7, my jyn .8, dead or alive .9, master, father, anakin

Act Three, the bounty

.10, the bounty hunter .11, trade .12, carbonite .13, nothing .14, monster .15, eighty-three .16, bed side manner .17, tin .18, years gone years .19, touch .20, good old days .21, just a kid .22, deepest darkest .23, here with me .24, over .25, saviin kryze .26, din djarin .27, din and saviin

Act Three, the jedi

(originally posted on Wattpad under the username, poedjarin)

Disclaimer; I don't own Star Wars or The Mandalorian, all I own is my own original characters and plot lines. TW; violence, death, anxiety, PTSD, sexual asualt/harassment, torture, and other agressive topics will be discussed

[ranahan]

Cin, white

Colour of new beginnings and endings, birth and death—inextricably linked in the Mandalorian psyche, like two sides of the same coin. White symbolises the natural cycles: for something new to be born, something old must die. Death in nature makes room for and fertilises new growth; it’s neither good or bad, it’s necessary—without death, there’s no new growth but stagnation. White is the colour of cin vhetin, lit. ‘white field’. Like snow falls on the field and covers it, like winter kills the nature only for it to be born again in the spring, so cin vhetin symbolically kills the past so one may be reborn as a Mandalorian. It’s the traditional colour of New Year’s celebrations, funerals and births. In art, it is often used to depict stars, especially in the context of the Ka’ra.

Ge’tal, red

The colour of honouring a parent. It could mean a specific person, like a parent or a mentor. It could mean honouring the whole clan, and recalls that specific part of the Resol’nare. Or it could have the more general sense of honouring all that have come before you, i.e. honouring the culture and cultural traditions of Mandalore. That also makes red the traditional colour of lore-keepers, like gorane, archivists, reporters, historians, archaeologists, poets and song-smiths—which also might come with its own set of connotations, like associating the colour red with the act of creation (like the smithing of armour and weapons).

Saviin, purple

Other parts of the fandom have given purple the sense of “luck”. I’m a big fan of the “adaptability, survival in adversity” meaning. Depending on how you want to view it, it’s either an additional meaning or a specific kind of luck. English-speakers might not view it as luck at all, but for Mandalorians it might be the most salient kind of luck of them all: the adaptability to take advantage of opportunities, the indomitability to make opportunities where there are none, and the tenacity to keep going until either one is possible. It’s the ultimate “the gods help those who help themselves” kind of luck.

I like the idea that saviin is a kind of a wildflower, not necessarily any relation to wild violets on earth besides the colour. And I think that wildflowers are actually the most revered kind of a flower in Mandalorian culture post-Dral’Han. Not the fancy roses and lilies, but the little weeds that can grow even in the unlikeliest of places and make their way even through concrete and stone (or the glassed surface of a planet).

I think that the tropical jungle flowers that grew on Mandalore before Dral’Han have collectively taken on a meaning a bit like cherry flowers in Japanese culture. They’re beautiful, but ultimately fragile and ephemeral. Traditional Mandalorian species are especially significant because of their disappearance/rarity.

So calling someone sarad’ika (“little flower���) as a pet name could mean that they’re precious. But it could also be used sarcastically, rather like “a special little snowflake” is in English, implying they’re a fragile tropical flower that can only survive in the artificial conditions of a hothouse. But calling someone saviin’ika (or another wildflower/weed) unambiguously means they’re tenacious and thrive even in adversity.

Besal, steel-grey (silver)

So English has “silver” as the prototypical metal colour. But I think for mandos, that would be the colour of beskar, not silver. So besal < bes (steel) + sal (colour), or beskar (as an adjective, meaning beskar-coloured).

So the colour silver symbolises, and in the case of beskar’gam is, unpainted metal. Depending on context, having unpainted beskar’gam could mean several things. Mourning like grey, but also specifically the kind of mourning where you have nothing and no-one to paint your besk for, being the last one of your clan or suffering another kind of devastating loss. It could also mean seeking redemption: when you can’t use the other colours because you feel you have lost your honour and the right to claim the values the other colours symbolise, but instead of hanging up your armour, you’re determined to keep going and redeem yourself. It could also imply stripped paint, as in the case of inherited beskar (see mourning), or signify a great change (one being in the process of repainting their armour).

Is there anything you can tell me about Mando colour symbolism that isn't already on that "armour colour" post? I'm planning out a Sabine POV story where it would be relevant.

Well, yes and no. I went over the “facts” of colors and mandalorian color theory. What I can do now is kind of dig deeper into the actual mando’a words for colors, and maybe extrapolate more on the etymology of each word as they’re relevant to colors. If anything, it’ll give you an idea of how to break down the colors and maybe play with the meanings, or even the construction of the words themselves. Hopefully that helps?

I got a little carried away (again?) so I apologize for the length and time it took to put this together … and also you can take everything I say with a grain of salt as I’m trying to make sense of the etymology of these words. I’m also skipping orange as there’s no word for in the dictionary as of yet, and including violet since it is.

So, let’s go in the order that I went in the original post. Forewarning that black is going to be the longest section as I’ve thought about it maybe way too much.

ne’tra — black 

Ne’ is traditionally one of the negative prefixes of mando’a. It’s meant to indicate the opposite of what it’s attached to, or the not-thing. Tra means space, void … but it also translates to starfield, or field of stars. 

So. Black. Justice. Not the void of space, or, alternatively, Without stars, a starless night. 

However way you want to interpret that is up to you, but to me? From what I understand of mandalorian history? They were once a truly nomadic people, who voyaged across the stars. They were, arguably, wayfinders. More than just warriors, or conquerors, or however most would like to put it.

I originally wasn’t going to do this, but because you mentioned (elsewhere) that you’re focusing on dusk, I want to take a moment to extrapolate on this thought. The reason I say this is because of how they view stars. 

Mandalorians are generally not considered to be religious. But the language they speak is still very deeply steeped in poetic concepts — grasping at the enormous and unthinkable with words as clever and broad as a people can attempt to embody them. Stars is my personal favorite.

Ka’ra — stars, ruling council of fallen leaders. Mandalorians still speak of those who pass as not being dead, but marching far far away. The origin of the word stars is the belief that the Mand’alore ascend to the stars, to watch over the people and to guide them.

The word for breath is kar’am. Hyperdrive is karbakar (star to star). Kar’ta is heart. Kar’taylir is awareness, knowledge, lit. to hold in the heart. Karyai is the main communal living room of a communal home, where a family convenes to spend time together — and often the last bastion against an invasion.

Jate’kara, luck, destiny, literally good stars, a course to steer by. 

All of these words stem from stars.

Black, the color, is literally a starless night. But, while the impulse is to go for something negative, I would actually pull away from that. Mandalorians, in general, also view adversity (something difficult, something terrible, something terrifying) as something to challenge and overcome as a way of life. A starless night is not to be feared but to be met. 

A starless night may also be indicative, poetically, of a place or a people or an event without justice. And that void, that emptiness, that lack? Must be filled. Whomsoever wears black has taken it upon themselves to fill a void and reinstate justice in whatever manner that may mean.

But also consider: a night without stars evokes a specific sort of image and feeling … which may also be completely different depending on the person in question. Someone who lives in a bright city and experiences light pollution would be used to a night without stars, versus someone living out in the wild (like Krownest) or who is dependent on the stars to travel, would be used to a night full of stars and may find it distressing or strange.

ve’vut — gold

This one is a little less straightforward. Vut, or vutyc, indicates special. Unique, precious. Ve’ (pronounced vay or veh) is unclear as to what it’s meant to indicate, but often when we see ve’ as a prefix, it’s usually from ven (future tense), but in this case it may be from vheh, earth, soil, dirt. 

Gold. Vengeance. A precious future, or, precious metal.

Maybe evocative of the sun rising after a long and difficult night. The gold of the sun rising is a promise of a future — or at the very least, the feeling of surviving to tomorrow. This might be too poetic though lmao, and tbh … I really like the simplicity and the directness of precious metal (lit. special dirt, lmao).

The funny thing here is that though I have gold and yellow listed together for meaning (as they are, generally, considered under the same banner of Vengeance), the word for yellow is different.

shi'yayc — yellow

So. I’m not really a fan of this word, to be perfectly honest with you. I’m of the opinion this is less an actual color and more an adjective meant to describe something else. But regardless, here it is.

From shi, just/only, and yayc, which may be from oyayc, meaning alive (or oya! which carries many meanings and generally overwhelmingly positive). Generally though, with the yc added to the end, it’s less a noun and more an adjective, so it might actually be meant to be a descriptor (ie. yellowing of skin or eyes etc). 

Yellow. Vengeance. Only just alive, or barely dead.

Maybe comparison to, say, a recently deceased person — but that only really works if one assumed that all dead persons are pale and turn yellow when they die, and that’s a weird assumption to make in the context of mandalorians.

Also consider: yellow is dull compared to the shine of a metallic gold. Less intense in that way. My question is what becomes of a person after they’ve enacted vengeance? What becomes of a life devoid of a perpetual motivating force like that? What happens when gold loses its sheen and fades, dulls? 

Am I just taking this too far, to the next level it doesn’t need to go? maybe

EDIT:: w/ points from anon through a later ask, I’d like to also add what they said: 

you pondered about the connotations of yellow regarding ‘just/barely alive’ and its comparison to gold. I thought maybe it’s about flames/light - like a bright vivid flame is a bright gold, while the flame, when it’s only small and ->barely alive<- has more of a dull and yellowish shine. 

I hadn’t even consider that it might have been referencing intensity of light/fire? But the way you put it, that may actually make more sense than the direction I was going in. I was definitely perplexed somewhat, like I was missing something. This sounds like what I was missing.

That could also apply for the heat of a flame, too. Like, referring to the intensity of the light, or the intensity of the heat, or both, depending entirely on context, and related to the below.

Lust for life

So, there’s no word for orange in mando’a at this time.

Consider: Yellow is sometimes indicated to also mean lust for life, depending on who you ask and what source material you’re comparing it to.

It’s entirely possible that mandalorians don’t have a way to differentiate between yellow and orange. Some cultures do display a limitation in language, seeing what we would consider a range (yellow to orange) as all one spectrum under the same banner.

So while Yellow may mean barely alive/barely dead, yellow may also mean nothing but life.

Something to think about.

genet — gray

Gray/Silver. Mourning lost love.

Ge’ for almost, by proximity (literally or metaphorically). Net, we can assume, comes from the word for black, ne’tra. So, in this case, gray is literally almost black, but not quite. Reaching towards it, maybe, but not quite there.

I’ve used overcast before to describe gray, or the feeling of a loss, of grief, and it still applies here. Almost, not quite, as a starless night sky. Duller, paler, than a starfield. That kind of thing—perpetually in comparison to black.

Also consider that it may infer obscuring the target, instead of almost reaching black, it may act like a filter, a translucent overlay to take away or obscure intensity of (in this case from black, or night sky). Mandalorians, who are (or once was) so used to navigating by/the stars, suddenly having to deal with their guidance obscured? There’s loss, there, too.

kebiin — blue

This one’s a little … less straightforward. Ke’ is used as an imperative prefix, usually to indicate that this word/sentence is a command, but keb may also come from kebbur, meaning to try or make an attempt. Biin, or bii, may come from abiik, air (interestingly, kebii’tra indicates sky, so it’s literally blue starfield, blue space).

What is reliable? What is faithful? Following through, or making the attempt again and again—someone consistent, trustworthy. To stretch the meaning, as trustworthy as the air. 

Blue. Reliability. Faithful. As consistent, or trustworthy, as the air.

I wonder if that was ever a phrase in use. “As trustworthy as the air” might ring true on a planet where they can breathe without their helmets … but what if they so happen to land on a planet that they cannot?

In hindsight, that sounds like a very mando joke to make. B’)

“Who ever is reliable all the time?” Both a joke and a very serious question.

ge’tal — red

Ge shows up again. Almost. Tal, blood. Almost blood, or nearly / like blood. 

From what I understand, the Taung did bleed red, and since they were the original mandalorians, it makes sense for them to make the simplest association for the color.

Red. Honoring a parent. 

This is kind of a call back, imo, to the saying “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” as chosen family ties are stronger than that of biological ones, and consider that mandalorians are expected to shed blood for their chosen family if it ever came to it.

But also consider pointing at a rose and, quite literally, calling it like blood. 

vorpan — green

Vor, figuratively, is to thank. Literally, it’s to accept. Pan… is a little difficult to discover what it might indicate, or where it may come from, but from the two other words it’s a part of (epan, for guts, entrails, and sapan for electromagnet) we can kind of infer that it’s meant to indicate core, or insides, the interior of a thing.

Metaphorically, vorpan can be understood to be accepting a task to fulfill with one’s whole being. For context, vorpan’oy is the word for vegetation, as in bringing life to green.

Green. Duty. To embody one’s accepted task. 

Not really sure why, but let’s go with that.

saviin — violet

This word is actually very close to Sabine’s name — they’re pronounced the same, just with a v instead of b. In some dialects or accent, one might say they are the same. I would argue they are.

So. Violet. Saviin. Sa’ most likely comes from sarad, meaning flower, bloom. Viin is from viinir, for run. 

Running flower. Wild violets are considered weeds in some places, and so instead of run as in flee, run may lean more towards running wild, an overgrowth — or a plant that can live, even thrive, anywhere, in spite of adversity and outside forces attempting to eradicate them. 

Survival in adversity.

And, maybe unintentionally maybe not, given the above I would argue it’s a perfect name for Sabine under the circumstances. 

EDIT:: referring again to points brought up by anon in a later ask:

saviin sounds a lot like Sabine, which seems very very likely to me, considering the long i (or rather e - from an anglophone perspective) and that [v] and [b] are very similar sounds, so maybe Sabine is like a basic transcription or a dialect form of Saviin. Regarding the meaning of the colour/name

My etymology for it would be the following: “viin”/“bine” being a degenerated/shortened form (or even the root?) of kebiin - blue connected with “sa” - as, like, it gives “sa viin” - “like blue”, what is kind of a good description for purple/violet, implying the standard shade in mandalorian perception would be a darker bluish purple ALSO implying that the concept of purple cam up comparably late in the language, similar of the color orange getting it’s name rather late in germanic languages 

I was going color by color so I missed the connection in the effort to complete the post, which was an oversight by me sadly. 

It might also then directly connect the connotations of blue (reliability) with purple (adaptability, survival in adversity). They who are reliable can be depended on to adapt and survive adversity, or so on, kind of like orange (lust for life) from yellow, as thought about from above (the intensity of the flame).

Definitely some interesting things to think about.

[stubbychaos]

Ori Kebiin and Saviin’ika

Chapter 8 of Saviin’ika

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5|Part 6|Part 7

Masterlist

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: Paz takes you to the covert after your long day, despite you not being accepted by everyone in the tribe yet. Though you are content to finally be away from a toxic environment, Paz wants his vengeance towards those who have hurt you.

Rating: M

Word Count: 13,000 (I kinda got carried away)

Warnings: Brief mentions of psychological abuse and manipulation, as well as the aftermath of the attempted sexual assault from last chapter. Again, there’s mentions of blood, but not nearly as graphic as the last chapter!

Translations will all be at the end since there’s so many this chapter. I separated the actual dialogue from the typical nicknames and such. The title, however, translates to “Big Blue and Little Violet” :)

You have no idea how you manage the strength to walk on your feet after the day you’ve had, but you think Paz’s hand firmly pressed to the small of your back gives you the motivation to be stronger.

Though the dread still lingers like a dark rain cloud over your frantic heart as Paz leads you to your home to grab a change of clothes, you’re certain that the Mandalorian would not let anything happen to you should your father be awake. His thumb moves in firm little circles against the thick material of his cape that’s shielding your body from any wandering eyes and even though you can’t get the memory of slaying the Trandoshan out of your mind, you feel slightly better now that your warrior had cleaned as much of the blood away from your skin as he possibly could.

Out of sight, but never out of mind, you resentfully realize as you slowly approach the worn down hut you’ve lived in for your entire life and find the thought of living anywhere else strange, but certainly not disheartening in the slightest. Paz gently urges you behind him as he leads you inside the building, his leather-clad fingers firmly wrapped around your wrist and you can’t help but to smile weakly at his diligence and insistence on keeping you safe from anymore danger.

Much to your relief, you hear your father’s snores from the other room, most likely blacked out on alcohol or his drug of choice and you hastily lead Paz into your tiny room, only letting go of his hand so you can sift through the wooden crate where you keep what little clothes and garments you own.

“Cyare,” Paz whispers the nickname, perhaps remembering that your abuser sleeps in the room down the hall; he makes sure to keep his voice down as he gathers some of your toiletries and carefully situates them in a small canvas bag, “Where we are going, it is deep underground--it is much colder--do you have anything warmer to wear?”

You blink and manage to find a large cable knit sweater that you haven’t worn in such a long time, along with a thicker pair of leggings and some clean undergarments; you freeze when the Mandalorian speaks again.

“And something to sleep in?”

Heat floods your cheeks and earlobes and you nervously move to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, growing even more embarrassed when you realize the strands are matted to your neck with blood, “Am I staying the night there?”

You find a thin-sleeved, satin night gown that falls a few inches above your knees and you slowly rise to turn and face Paz, noticing the tension in his shoulders as he stares at you through the safety of his visor. You’ve never once questioned his loyalty to the creed by asking what he looks like underneath the helmet, but you suddenly find yourself jealous that he is able to conceal his features upon feeling nervous or shy. He reaches out to gently stroke your jaw, helmet tilting to the side as you hold your clean clothes tightly to your chest; he is silent as he collects the fabric from your tight hold and places it in the canvas bag.

“You would not be turned away after the day you’ve had,” He reassures you, cupping his hand to the side of your neck, “I am hoping they will let you stay permanently once they meet you.”

Your heart swells and you nod a little, your heart pumping furiously in your chest at the thought of spending the night with him again, let alone the rest of your days.

“Thank you,” You fiddle nervously with your large sweater as he continues to stare at you, “I… I will change now.”

“Then I won’t look,” He hums, sounding slightly amused as he turns his back to you, “Unless you wish for me to see you, little nurse?”

An intense heat spreads throughout your face as you let his cape fall from your shoulders and you begin to remove your boots. You remember the way the Trandoshan’s grimy hands had found the hem of your dress and you drop your head in shame as you peel away your undergarments and replace them with fresh ones. You feel sick and ashamed that it had nearly gotten to the point where he had taken advantage of you and you want to tell Paz exactly what had happened, but the feeling of your attacker’s hands on your torso leaves you feeling raw and vulnerable.

You’re embarrassed.

“I fear you would not like what you would see.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet moves in a jolting gesture, though he makes sure not to completely turn his head towards you and your heart thrums frantically when you realize it must be out of respect for your own wishes. You’re hasty to cover your chest with a clean bralette and you feel as though your cheeks are on fire when you replace your shorts with fresh undergarments and thick leggings, all while keeping your eyes on the back of his helmet.

“You are beautiful, cyare,” Paz softly reminds you, his baritone as low and quiet as his modulator will allow him, “I don’t like seeing you bruised and hurt, but it does not take away from your beauty. I do not think I could go through all of your pain without any armor; it must be difficult to bare your scars for all to see.”

You think it to be the most heartfelt compliment he could give you--informing you that he believes your strength and endurance to be up to his standards--and you smile warmly at the back of his helmet.

“Okay,” You eventually murmur as you tug the large sweater over your head, the cozy fabric fitting you similarly to a short, loose dress, “I’m ready.”

The Mandalorian turns to face you just as you’re grabbing his cape that you had neatly placed on the foot of your bed; his helmet tilts to the side as he watches you hug the material close to your chest. Thinking he doesn’t need the warm fabric yet, you hold onto it tightly as you follow him out your room, tensing a little when you’re met with utter silence, rather than your father’s typical loud snores. Paz must notice it too, because you watch as his hand immediately moves to the blaster sheathed against his hip; your heart pounds wildly in your chest as the two of you make it up the two stairs leading out of the hut.

Before you even realize what’s going on, Paz immediately whips around and draws a blaster within a fraction of a second, carefully pushing you behind him; you’re confused, until you hear a familiar voice that you’re certain will forever haunt you, even if you never see him again.

“Where do you think you’re going, little one?” You tilt your head to the side so you can see your father staggering towards you and Paz, “You decide to fucking not show up to one of your shifts and thought I would be okay with it? Then you bring him here? After everything I told you? Are you really that fucking stupid or do I need to--?”

You snap before the Mandalorian does.

For the third time in the last twenty-four hours--you absolutely snap.

“I have had one of the longest, roughest days of my life, so don’t you dare make me feel bad for not showing up to work or bringing him here!” You step to the side and put yourself in front of Paz, though he still keeps his blaster pointed on the drunk man who poses no real threat to the warrior, “I have been working every day for you for the last decade and never once have you ever thanked me for the time I put in--for all that I have done for you and working for free! You never once thanked me for all the tears and blood I have shed for you at the expense of your own hands and I am exhausted.”

Your father--Maker, does he look stunned by your outburst--and you’re certain that if Paz wasn’t there, he would have struck you the moment you raised your voice, but his eyes widen and his mouth drops open as he regards you. You think of the Trandoshan and the bounty hunter and how both of them had caused you such rage, fear, and desperation and you suddenly find it easier to argue with your only living blood.

You don’t even notice the way Paz tenses behind you when your father staggers forward, nearly tripping over his own feet and you suddenly feel embarrassed for the kind of torment you have let this pathetic man inflict upon you. You’re shaking with the trauma from such a horrific day as you step a little closer to him, speaking through clenched teeth at the man who’s made your life a living hell for as long as you can remember.

After killing the Trandoshan, you think you’re not fazed by anything, let alone your father’s clumsy anger.

“You have put me through so much pain and so much agony--so much torture--Maker, do you have a heart at all? Do you even realize what you’ve done to me? How much you’ve scarred my body and my mind?!” You force yourself not to cry, thinking he doesn’t deserve a single tear from you when he’s stolen so many in your life, “I am supposed to be your daughter, not your slave, and I won’t let you treat me as such anymore!”

Your chest is heaving wildly as he simply stares at you in shock, probably not even aware you were capable of storing such hatred and fury in your tender heart.

"I have never hated anyone as much as I hate you," You seethe, speaking through clenched teeth as you watch the way your words sober him, his back straightening a little "I hope you feel a fraction of the same loneliness and pain you have made me feel after I leave this awful place; I hope it haunts you everyday until you finally die."

Your father’s eyes widen and you’re certain he is shocked at the courage you have somehow obtained within a single day, though it still does not stop him from continuing to berate you

“And what would you do when he grows tired of you?” He sneers, though you simply shake your head, remembering how your warrior had declared his love for you and you force yourself to remember the devotion in his deep baritone, “You think those monsters would actually take you in as one of their own? You think this savage could genuinely love someone like you? Someone so weak and useless? They’ll use you and simply throw you away, just like anyone else would.”

You hear Paz snarl behind you, no doubt shaking with rage and a desire for wrath against your father, but you offer your last living relative a weak smile and nod a little, thinking of everything your warrior has done for you in the last few months and the happiness he’s given you. Perhaps you’re not as naive as you once thought--now so used to the horrors of such a cruel planet--and you’re certain that if this huge warrior insists his love for you, he must not be lying.

“I am not weak nor useless and I now know that,” You insist fiercely, and even though your voice trembles, you feel the words deep down in your bones--in your soul--and you step closer to the man whose unfocused gaze is currently switching between you and Paz frantically, “I am far stronger than you have ever led me to believe and I will not let you tear down me, nor the only man who has ever built me up. Even if I am not accepted, I will find a way to make a life for myself because anywhere is better than this hell.”

His angry expression cracks as soon as he realizes he no longer has any control over your inhibitions or choices and you know what’s about to happen--the manipulative words he’s about to spew.

“Y-You can’t leave me!” He doesn’t sound angry, but more so frantic at the thought of no longer having control over you, and he pleadingly holds out his careless hands, “You are my only family I have left.”

Though you feel a twinge of pain in your heart at how distraught he suddenly sounds, you turn your head to peer at Paz over your shoulder, who now has his blaster lowered. His helmet tilts to the side a little when he sees the conflict etched on your features and you think he must be incredulous that you even have to think about this--choosing between him or your father--but he simply gives you a curt nod and you turn back to your father.

“You said it yourself--” You whisper, backing away from his stumbling form before he can reach you, “You have no daughter, nor do I have a father.”

As soon as you see the look of despair melt into something more intense, something you’re so acclimated with--that anger, that intense fury--you immediately know you’ve made the right choice. Feeling flustered and slightly overwhelmed, you hastily turn around and storm past the usually talkative Mandalorian that has grown deathly silent and still as his Beskar gaze follows your small form that’s still clutching his cape close to your chest.

“Don’t forget that promise, you useless bitch! I’ll make you both fucking suffer,” He spits, instantly making you freeze and though dread crawls up your spine, you slowly turn to find Paz charging towards the much smaller, more feeble man with great furiosity that you’ve never seen from him, “Fucking Manda--”

You watch with wide eyes as your warrior immediately wraps his fingers around your newly estranged father’s neck and you are quick to make your way towards the two men when Paz effortlessly shoves him up against the outside of the hut with enough force to crack the outside of the little building. Your father claws desperately at the hand that has him pinned to the building, his feet an inch or two off the ground and you freeze when you hear the anger and pain in Paz’s modulated voice.

“You are lucky the little nurse has a tender heart and doesn’t wish for me to end your sorry existence, because I would have gladly had your lifeless body at her feet the moment I first saw you mistreat her,” Paz easily inches him higher off the ground, not seeming all too worried about his comfort as he squeezes his hand tighter around the struggling man’s esophagus, “You have caused her enough pain to last a lifetime and I will not watch you hurt her anymore with your words or hands.”

Your father’s mouth is wide open as he gasps and flops wildly like a fish on land when Paz finally drops him and you can tell it’s taking everything out of him to not cause the older man further damage as he wheezes violently at the warrior’s feet. You think you should feel sorry for your father, but instead you feel embarrassed that you have let someone so pathetic and greedy push you around for such a long time.

“He’s going to get tired of you and leave, you ungrateful bitch!” The older man speaks through loud gasps for air, choking and heaving on his own spit, “Everyone always does, you know you’re nothing--”

You should stop Paz--you know you should stop him as he lifts his boot, only to send a mighty kick to your father’s ribs and you hear a loud crack that you are all too familiar with, though you don’t cringe or turn away from it.

You’re far too acquainted with the sound to be disgusted by it and you think it to be painfully ironic that he is now in a position that you’ve been in so many times because of him.

“Useless, huh? Have fun tending your own wounds without her help,” Paz scoffs, listening to the injured man wheeze frantically, biting back whimpers as he clutches his side, “You ever try anything with her or even think about coming for me, I’ll cut your hands off and let someone else in tribe deal with you, hu’tuun. They would not show you the same mercy that I have and I would not mind seeing what kind of pain they would show you.”

You watch with wide eyes as he slowly turns around, tight fists instantly unfurling as he sees your shocked expression, though he is quick to carefully grab your elbow and lead you away from the man who is still gasping for deep breaths of air. The bright glimmer of moonlight kissing his visor as he turns to peer down at you every now and then has you growing curious and slightly worried at the sharp, jittery motions.

“Paz, are you--?”

“I am sorry you had to see me like that,” He makes haste to apologize and you shake your head a little as he leads you further away from your broken home, “I do not want you to think of me as cruel, but the way he speaks to you and treats you… I wanted to kill him, cyare.”

“After today, I don’t think I could ever believe you to be cruel,” You whisper with a light shudder, feeling the way his fingertips immediately slide down the inside of your forearm before they’re weaving through the valleys of your fingers in a firm hold; you think of the Trandoshan and bounty hunter and shake your head again, “I… I have seen what cruel men are capable of and I would never think you to be like them.”

“When we get to the covert, will you tell me what happened to you today--what he did to you?” Paz sounds so restrained and full of anger and sadness as he thinks of someone he’s considered to be a brother hunting you down and hurting you so horrifically, “If it is too hard to speak of it, I won’t push you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and exhale deeply as he takes you further outside the village, “I do not know if I have the strength to talk about it yet.”

“Okay,” Paz nods sharply, even though you can tell that this is all killing him slowly and he so desperately wants to know what the hell happened, “Okay, cyare.”

You smile softly at him being so understanding of the delicate situation and tiredly press your cheek against his bicep as he leads you to the people that are supposedly excited for your arrival. You think Paz must be exaggerating about his tribe’s eagerness to meet you and there’s a sick feeling growing in your stomach as you think of their bounty hunter and how he was most likely one of the Mandalorians who didn’t want you at the covert.

“Are you okay?” He asks after a few minutes of silence as you both slowly trudge through the village, though you think he only walks slow for you and your injuries, “That couldn’t have been an easy thing for you to stand up to him like that.”

“I… I don’t really know how to feel,” You whisper, your fingers curling tightly around his as you try to gather your thoughts into one cohesive statement to sum up your feelings, “I am sad, but my chest feels lighter. I have never talked back to him like that, but I do not regret what I said.”

“That takes a lot of courage,” Paz consoles with a deep hum, giving your hand a gentle squeeze and as he tilts his helmet a little lower and to the side, you like to picture him smiling down at you--whatever his smile may look like, though you’re certain it must be a kind, warm one, “It takes strength to stand up to someone that has hurt and manipulated you that badly, cyare, and you should feel only pride for acting so bravely.”

You smile and nod a little, knowing that someday you will truly believe his words, but for now you simply remain silent and focus on the firm hold he has on your hand. You hesitate and tense up when he moves to lead you down a dark alleyway that seems to go on for a mile; it’s so dark that you can’t even see where it ends and you move to take a step backwards as you think of the Trandoshan.

“It’s okay,” Paz reassures you, seeming to notice and understand your tension, “It’s… It’s been a long day, I get it, but I won’t let anything else happen to you. You’ve got me, cyare--always.”

You tug your hand out of his and squeeze the crook of his elbow as he leads you into the darkness of the alleyway. Despite not being able to make out anything, you feel how unwavering and sure the warrior is as he easily strides down the alleyway and it’s not until he scoops a thick curtain to the side that he turns on the little flashlight attached to the side of his helmet. You’re surprised to find a small set of stairs that leads down into a dark tunnel and you let him guide the way, trusting him enough to know he’s taking you somewhere safe.

“Careful,” Paz says softly as you slowly make your way down the winding staircase that takes the two of you further underground, “I know how clumsy you can be--or what was it you said when I took you to the hot springs the first time? The only thing graceful about you are your hands?”

You huff and try to shrug off the flirty remark, shaking your head as you carefully trail behind him, "You are not as smooth as you think, Paz."

He turns his helmet to gaze at you, nearly blinding you with the flashlight, all while continuing to descend the staircase and you hear him chuckle, "You’re lucky I am wearing my gloves, I know how hot your ears and cheeks get when you get all shy around me, little nurse.”

“I am sunburned,” You inform him with a scoff as he turns to face forward upon meeting the bottom of the staircase; you unfurl his cape to wrap it around your shoulders as it begins to grow colder, “I think most of my skin is pretty warm right now.”

He hums and you think he’s tense as you wrap both hands around his bicep as you two venture further into the underground tunnels; you remember the heavy weight of the Trandoshan’s body draped over your weak one as the heat from harsh sun rays beat down on you for hours on end. He doesn’t know anything that’s happened to you in the last day and you’re not sure if you should tell him, somewhat fearing for the bounty hunter’s life at the thought of Paz’s anger upon finding out you had been forced to take a life.

That the Trandoshan had touched you--that he’d nearly taken off your dress.

You don’t even realize how hard you’re clinging onto Paz’s bicep, forcing yourself to remember that you hadn’t been violated in such an intense way and that you were currently safe with your Mandalorian.

“We are almost there,” Paz reassures you, though you think it only brings you more anxiety and fear as he calmly leads you to his tribe, not seeming fazed or nervous in the slightest, “You will be loved by them as a little sister, please do not worry. I will take care of the bounty hunter.”

You simply nod as you let him guide you through what feels like endless tunnels and turns and you wonder how he could possibly know his way through such an intense maze of dark stone. You think of all the times he’s made his way through the tunnels just to see you and your heart swells as you glance up at his scuffed up helmet with admiration, thinking that he must see something in you to make such a winding journey so many times.

“Stay behind me, please,” Paz gently orders, responding quietly to your wide-eyed expression after he nudges you behind his big frame, “Just for a minute.”

He turns a corner just as an unfamiliar voice speaks up and you instantly perk up at the sound of a small, innocent voice; they sound younger than you and you’re not sure why, but that brings you great comfort immediately.

“Norac bid nusujii, ori kebiin?” A high-pitched, feminine voice has you feeling curious and despite Paz’s words, you poke your head to gaze past his bicep. Instantly, a forest green helmet with that notorious t-shaped visor whips to the side to stare at you and the smaller Mandalorian is quick to stand up from where she had been perched on a stone ledge next to the large, round entrance leading into the covert. You blink at the scuffed up teal armor that the female Mandalorian dons and you think the sapphire color of her gauntlets to be beautiful and less intimidating compared to the bounty hunter’s armor.

“Cuyir ibic gar orikih baar'ur, ba’vodu Paz?”

You think she must be asking Paz a question by the incline of her tone and he immediately turns to find you gazing intensely at the guard; letting out with a crackly sigh, Paz gives her a single sharp nod, “‘Lek.”

She lets an amused hum slip past her modulator and steps a little closer, “Ni copad at haa'taylir kaysh.”

Paz turns a little to place a big hand on the small of your back, kindly urging you forward and you hear the colorful Mandalorian let out with a small chuckle when you speak quietly in a shy voice, “The colors of your armor are pretty--blue is one of my favorite colors.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is.”

You immediately understand the meaning of her playful words when Paz offers her some sort of admonishment in his deep voice, speaking in his native tongue, “Gar liser't chayaikir kaysh guuror ibic.”

“Sorry, sorry,” The woman chuckles a little, helmet cocking to the side as she places a leather hand on her hip, “Thank you for the compliment, though I do not think I have ever heard someone refer to a Mandalorian as being pretty; most people would spit on us the first chance they got,” 

She still sounds amused as she props her sharp Beskar staff up against the stone wall, holding out a hand for you to shake; you smile weakly at the greeting and grasp her hand lightly, noticing her firm grip right away. She stands a few inches taller than you and even though she is probably the least intimidating Mandalorian you’ve met so far, you don’t doubt her strength.

“I do not think that those who would choose to spit on you would last very long.”

“Ni guuror kaysh,” The colorful Mandalorian giggles, her head tilting to the side as she peers down at you, “Cuyir gar orikih baar’ur ratiin ibic pel?”

“Elek,” Paz huffs a little and nods, sounding proud as he quickly answers her question, “Yes, ever since the day I first saw her.”

Your cheeks burn at what they could possibly be saying about you, though you don’t wish to cause any disrespect and politely continue to firmly shake the colorful Mandalorian’s hand as she giggles a little louder at his answer.

“I am Imalia,” She finally introduces herself and you’re surprised to actually hear excitement in her smooth, modulated voice as she continues to shake your hand; you’re even more surprised that she would so willingly give you her name, “Everyone calls me Ima though; I am one of the guards that protects the entrance this late at night since we’ve been having more and more close calls with outsiders lately.”

You blink as her leather-clad palm slips from yours and you nervously wring your fingers together, not knowing what to do with your own hands, “My name is--”

“Oh, we all know who you are, vod’ika,” She interrupts with another giggle and confusion fills you when you hear Paz let out with an exasperated sigh; your heart warms when you remember that he had told you ‘vod’ika’ meant little sister,  “Our heavy-infantry warrior hasn’t shut up about you since he first saw you--always rambling on about his ‘mesh’la saviin’ika’ and how pretty your flowers are and how kind you are and how he wants riduurok with you someday. We all thought he was making you up until he brought home your flowers one day.”

“Ori Kebiin bal Saviin’ika,” She tilts her head to the side, amused by her own words and you hear Paz groan from behind you, “How cute.”

You grow even shyer at her teasing voice, “What does... that mean? R-Riduurok?”

“Oh, y’know,” Ima says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, flippantly waving a gloved hand around, “When two people agree to--”

“It means Imalia is a teenager who likes to gossip too much and is far too nosy for her own good,” Paz quickly deflects, resting a large hand over the slope of your shoulder and you think he almost sounds stressed out and worried as the colorful Mandalorian shrugs halfheartedly, “Is the armorer at the forge, Mal?” 

The way he seems so comfortable speaking with the younger warrior immediately makes you smile softly and you wonder if he’s this way with all the younger Mandalorians.

“I need to speak with her--it’s urgent.”

Imalia tilts her head to the side and you feel small underneath her intimidating gaze, despite the fact that she’s apparently younger than you; she must be inspecting you closely and you suddenly wish you had the opportunity to take a shower before leaving your house. You can still feel all the dried blood matted to your scalp and crusted into your hairline and you’re certain Ima must see it as well.

“Tion'jor an te tal?” Ima questions in a much quieter tone and you flinch severely when her hand moves to touch one of your braids, though she is quick to pull her hand away, turning sharply to gaze up at Paz instead; her voice sounds much graver and sadder when she speaks again, “Vaii cuyir te sarad gar rucuyir cyau'kuyc at dinuir kaysh? Cuyir te baar'ur shupur'yc?”

“It’s a long story,” He says in Basic, something you’re grateful for as the colorful Mandalorian, slowly takes her seat back on the stone ledge, grabbing her long spear once more as Paz continues, “It’s all Djarin’s fault. He came after her because of the vulptex.”

“That damn bounty hunter--no wonder why he was so tense when he came back earlier,” Ima sighs, shaking her head as though this is a common occurrence within the tribe and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, “I’m surprised he’s even alive still; I’m starting to think he has only one brain cell left.”

“Not for much longer,” Paz huffs, fingers twitching against the thick fabric of your long sweater and you let him guide you through the large entrance into another tunnel, “The runt is dead the moment I see his sorry ass.”

The teenager doesn’t seem all the fazed by Paz’s foreboding words, watching as you two venture further into the enclave, “I don’t doubt it.”

You turn your head over your shoulder to catch one last glimpse at Ima’s beautiful green helmet, “It was nice meeting you, Ima.”

“You as well, saviin’ika,” You can hear the smile in her modulated voice, warm and syrupy sweet, and your heart melts at her next words, “I look forward to seeing more of you, rather than hearing it from ori kebiin’s annoying mouth.”

Despite the long day you’ve experienced and everything that’s happened with your father, you smile tiredly at her and face forward as Paz lets out with another annoyed sigh, grumbling something so low that you can’t make it out from underneath his helmet. 

He continues straight down the dim tunnel that is barely lit and your eyes widen as he leads you through another rounded entrance that has some sort of huge insignia welded to the top; you think it almost resembles a Mandalorian helmet with horns coming out the side and you make a mental note to ask Paz about it later.

Paz hums thoughtfully as he inspects his surroundings, looking for something--or someone--in particular; you take in your surroundings curiously, detaching yourself from the distracted Mandalorian to make your way over to a little workbench that seems to have discarded scraps of metal. Not wanting to be rude by touching someone else’s belongings, you simply observe all the scuffed and rusted Beskar, though something in particular catches your attention.

You force yourself not to reach out to touch the little pendant that resembles the one welded above the entrance of the forge, though something about the faded purple horns intrigue you more than you’d like to admit

“I thought we agreed not to take in your nurse until we got our bounty hunter’s vote,” A smooth, demure voice instantly startles you and you quickly turn around to come face to face with a Mandalorian who is slowly and surely entering the armory, her gaze fixated on you in an intense manner, “It is not like you to go against my word, Paz. Do you understand that you have put the tribe at risk?”

You eye the thick furs draped along her shoulders, along with the beautiful glimmer of her golden helmet; you think the richness of the gold contrasting against the deep maroon of the rest of her armor is stunning and immediately, you think she must be the leader of the covert. Though she lacks in height, just like you, she makes up for it with a powerful aura of quiet strength and leadership and you immediately admire her. 

Though you’re terribly nervous, you’ve never wanted to make such a good first impression with someone and you shakily speak up before Paz can, his helmet jolting to the side to gaze at you with what you’re certain is surprise.

It seems as though you’ve been doing that a lot lately--surprising everyone, including yourself.

“He wanted to wait as well,” You inform her, awkwardly skittering forward when she pulls out a chair for you to sit on, seeming to understand your exhaustion after a long day, “I… I was brought here because of the circumstances of today.”

“And what were the circumstances, little one?” She questions smoothly, her voice like rich velvet through her vocoder as she grabs a small metal mug from a shelf and a teapot that must already be filled with hot water; immediately, Paz starts to speak in an angered tone, but she is quick and calm to interrupt his hasty words as she pours hot water over a bundle of herbs, “I believe I asked your nurse, warrior, not you.”

“Thank you,” You whisper your gratitude when she makes her way back to you and kindly places a steaming mug filled with something that smells simultaneously sweet and spicy, “I haven’t had a warm drink in a while.”

“I know,” She informs you and your eyes widen in fear at the thought of Paz telling everyone in the covert about your father; anger fills you just for the tiniest moment before the armorer is squashing your worries like a bug beneath her boot, “I know only of what our heavy-infantry warrior has informed us about you, though he has spoken nothing of your personal life or family. It is unfortunate that you do not wear our helmet, little nurse, for it is quite easy to read the pain and suffering in your eyes. You may be younger than I, but you have lived a lifetime already, have you not?”

Your nostrils flare as you struggle to swallow the lump in your throat when you realize the wisdom this woman possesses, “I have felt enough pity for one lifetime as well, I do not wish to feel it anymore from myself or anyone else.”

She glances up at Paz, who has his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you closely, before her gaze is once again fixated on you taking a tentative sip of the flavorful tea; she cocks her head to the side, as if intrigued, and you hope that you are making a decent impression, “Very well. Tell me of the circumstances that have led you here today, little one.”

So, you do.

Paz pulls up a tiny chair that creaks underneath his weight and sits off to the side as you reluctantly relay the story of you and the bounty hunter--how you had willingly taken that blaster shot to save your vulptex, how you had been forced to cauterize your wound, how many times you tried to mention Paz’s name, though the hunter refused to listen. You think it’s taking everything out of Paz to not immediately go searching for his fellow Mandalorian, but he remains seated, his visor fixed on you and his fingers curled into tight fists atop his armored thighs. 

As soon as you mention the speeder and the barren lands, you see Paz straightening up, his breath hitching in his throat as you speak of the deal with the Trandoshan and how the bounty hunter hadn’t hesitated to trade you in for a pouch of credits.

How you had begged the hunter not to hand you over because the Trandoshan only held cruel intentions towards you.

Somehow, you manage not to cry the entire time, but as soon as you speak of the vibroblade Paz had given you--how you were barely able to keep a good grip on the handle because of how bloody your hand was--tears spring to your eyes. You squeeze the hot mug between your hands firmly, trying your hardest to take comfort in the warmth it brings your cold body.

Against your better judgment, you decide to leave the Trandoshan’s intentions as far away from the story as you possibly can, not wanting to inform Paz of how close he’d been to slipping his hands underneath your dress.

You know that would be the one detail of your story that would leave him completely unhinged.

You squeeze your eyes shut just as you maneuver around the painful topic, “Throat wounds are usually the most deadly and I… I didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t strong enough to fight him off of me and I had to take his life. I cannot stop thinking of the noises he made when I--and he was choking on his own blood and it got all over me and I never had to--”

“Ner cyare,” Paz’s voice sounds thick with emotion as you stare down at your lap in shame, not noticing the way the armorer is still gazing intensely at you, “I didn’t know you had to... Maker, that’s where all the blood came from?”

“You did what you must to survive in such a cruel place,” The armorer seems to have better words to say than Paz and you think he must be caught in an intense war of anger towards his brother or sadness because you had lost a piece of yourself, “Though I can only imagine the turmoil one so innocent would be going through after experiencing something so traumatic. Please, continue if you can.”

You’re not sure how you manage to speak with how shaky you’ve become, but surrounded by two powerful warriors, you want to be stronger, “I-I immediately went into shock because there was so much blood--Maker, there was so much blood--and I just froze and he fell forward on top of me. I was too weak at the moment to push him off and I passed out in the sun. When I woke up hours later, my skin was burning but I was able to get the Trandoshan off of me finally.”

You find it difficult to look at either one of them, so your gaze flickers up to the little horns on the armorer’s helmet as you take another sip of tea before continuing, “I… I passed out again; I don’t know why I was so tired, but when I woke up again, it was night time and the bounty hunter had come back for me and was taking Paz’s blade from my hand. He asked me who I got the weapon from and as soon as I said Paz, I could tell he regretted everything.”

The armorer speaks after Paz lets out an infuriated growl, standing up to his most intimidating size, though the female Mandalorian feels no sort of fear as she speaks only to you, “And do you truly feel as though our bounty hunter felt sorry for what he did to you?”

You sit up a little straighter and stare right into her visor, thinking hard about your response before answering out loud, though you can tell Paz is seething and vibrating with rage.

“I think he felt sorry for hurting someone who was precious to Paz, but not that I was protecting something I considered dear to me,” You inform her in an earnest, hushed tone, making her cock her helmet to the side a little, “I think he was just a man doing his job as a bounty hunter, but he was also cruel to me. When I tried to tell him that I knew Paz, he would make me be quiet and told me that whatever I had to say did not matter.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly brush away the tears at your lashes as you continue, “He almost made me believe the stories that my parents used to tell me of Mandalorians, but I know Paz enough to know the stories aren’t true. I’ve only known Imalia--Ima--for a few minutes, but she treated me kindly and I do not wish to believe that everyone in your tribe could be so cruel, especially when you and her have shown me respect.”

“And how have I shown you respect when all I’ve done is given you the opportunity to tell me your story, little one?”

“I think that is one of the kindest ways you can treat another--to allow them to speak up for themselves without judging them,” Warmth spreads through your cheeks and ears as you take another sip of your sweet, spicy tea and you gaze shyly at the armorer, “I know my voice shakes when I am scared or angry and that I cry more than I probably should, but you and Paz and even Ima have shown me more respect than anyone else I’ve met in the last decade. Even if I was not accepted, I am grateful to see that love and kindness has lived underneath this cruel village for so long.”

The armorer stares at you in an unwavering manner and you fear the worst when she slowly turns her helmet to gaze up at Paz, who’s still staring intently at you, and she almost sounds amused as she turns to you once again, “It seems as though our heavy-infantry warrior was correct when he informed us all that it is impossible to dislike you.”

“I only wish to treat others the same way I would like to be treated,” You smile at the thought of your grouchy Mandalorian giving you such high praise about you to his family and you curl your fingers against your knees, “I apologize that this is the way I was introduced to you--all bloody and still shaken up.”

Her head tilts to the side in a curious manner, “Our tribe’s bounty hunter was careless and hurt you, yet you are the one apologizing?”

“It was my fault for--”

“Do not feel sorry or at fault for this, cyare,” Paz insists and you finally look up at him as he speaks through clenched teeth, “Where is Djarin, ner alor? I will have him begging for forgiveness at her feet the second I see him--I want him to suffer for what he did to her!”

The armorer lets out with a tired sigh and she shakes her helmet a little as you timidly finish off your tea, watching the altercation take place over the rim of your mug, “Our bounty hunter is currently asleep in his quarters, just as you two should be.”

Paz refuses to back down and you fear that he’s actually going to kill his fellow Mandalorian as his deep baritone grows louder and more infuriated, “I want to kill him, I don’t care that he is currently resting. He is a coward and--”

“Your little healer is exhausted and afraid,” The armorer reminds him firmly, standing up to her full height and you realize her true power when Paz recoils a little, “She is in a new place, surrounded by people she has never met and it has been a long day for her. Would you be so cruel and selfish to deny her relaxation after witnessing such trauma? The nurse is about to fall out of her chair, and yet you only wish to seek violence when she has already seen too much of it in her lifetime.”

“I didn’t--” Paz’s helmet jolts a little as he gazes intensely at you, though you offer him a weak, tired smile, “I am sorry, ner cyare, I was not thinking properly.”

“It’s okay,” You shake your head a little as you slowly stand, your hand traveling to the cauterized wound at your hip; and Paz is instantly at your side when you keel over a little bit in pain, “Although it would be nice to um, to maybe get all of this blood out of my hair?”

“Negotiations for the nurse’s future with the tribe will continue tomorrow,” The armorer stands tall, somehow exuding more power and grace than your blue warrior, “In the meantime, she will recover and rest for as long as she requires.”

“Th-Thank you,” Paz gently presses his hand to the small of your back as you offer your gratitude to the tribe’s matriarch, “For everything.”

She simply offers you a curt nod and watches as Paz dutifully takes you to his private quarters. 

The enclave is a lot quieter than you would have expected and you think they must have some sort of system when it comes to training and sleeping; you have so many questions, but you don’t want to sound too nosy, so you remain silent during the small journey. Your eyelids feel incredibly heavy as he quietly guides you and you pray the Mandalorian doesn’t think too differently after hearing your story--that he doesn’t see you to be any less of yourself for being forced to steal someone’s life.

He’s still tense as he wraps an arm around your waist to help you descend another staircase leading even deeper into the enclave and you hate that you are a part of the reason why he’s so angry and upset. You hate his moody silence, knowing that he’s normally so talkative with you and could probably carry a conversation with himself if it meant you had his full interest.

Tiredly, you make it your own little mission to distract him from his inner turmoil and gently grab his yellow gauntlet once the two of you make it to the bottom of the staircase. His helmet jolts to the side to gaze down at you as you hold his forearm to your stomach, your fingers barely grazing the slim barrel attached to the top of his gauntlet.

You smile up at his visor, whispering out a meek little, ‘I love you.’

Instantly, he stops walking to lean down to press his forehead against yours and warmth settles over your heart similarly to the way his cape around your cold frame brings you comfort and security.

Immediately, he relaxes his tense muscles and lets out a deep sigh, “I love you too, cyare.”

You observe your dark surroundings closely as he leads you past what seems to be several different alcoves that you assume must be the living quarters for other Mandalorians, the entrances to them covered by thick black fabric. You’re surprised when he guides you past them and around a corner where there’s a stone door straight at the end of the corridor; you wonder if he has a bigger room than everyone else because of his status or ranking within the tribe, though you think it rude to ask and simply follow him into his dimly lit quarters.

You’re surprised to find that it’s far bigger than your little hut and you take in all the new surroundings with curiosity.

You keep your hands clasped tightly together, feeling awkward as you watch the warrior calmly make his way to a huge chest on the floor at the foot of his massive bed, seeming utterly relaxed as he begins to remove his big gauntlets and black gloves. placing them inside the large chest. You almost think he’s forgotten about you until he stands up again and purposely wanders back to you, immediately intertwining his fingers through yours and giving your hand a gentle tug.

“You must be dying for a shower,” He sighs softly, leading you further into his private quarters and through a small alcove protected by black drapes; your cheeks burn hotter than coals when you think of how easy it would be for him to easily invade your privacy, though you know him to be a respectful man, “The water doesn’t always get the warmest, but I’m sure it will be nicer than whatever you had at your home.”

You perk up when you see the big shower and dozens of little holes in the ceiling where the water must fall from, “We had a sonic shower at the infirmary. I’ve never used a real one with actual water.”

The blue warrior stares at you for a few moments before shaking his head a little; he digs through your small canvas bag, pulling out the jars that contain your hair products, as well as your bar of soap. You watch with curiosity as he opens the glass door the shower and places your stuff on a small shelf next to his own belongings and it finally hits you that you are actually at his covert with him and not your measly little hut with a man who hates you.

Paz twists a metal knob a few times around, causing a soft whirring noise, followed by fat droplets of water to fall from the holes in the ceiling and your eyes widen a little at the sight.

“Take as long as you want,” He gently orders in a cool rasp, stroking your bruised cheek with the utmost care and immediately, you turn your head to kiss his palm, earning you a little sigh from him, “I’ll go get some food for you while you shower.”

He turns to leave you alone, but your curiosity gets the better of you and you awkwardly speak up in his native tongue, “Ori kebiin--”

Immediately, the Mandalorian freezes, his back facing you as you speak the strange words that the guard had spoken earlier, “That’s what Ima said, right? I know you told me that saviin’ika means violet and I heard her say that, but what does ori kebiin mean? Is it your title in the tribe?”

“I--It’s just--” Paz seems to hesitate for a few moments before you hear him let out with a frustrated groan, “It is what many of the younger ones in the tribe refer to me as; it means big blue. When I told you that saviin’ika only meant violet, I lied to you, cyare. Saviin means violet, but ‘ika means little.”

“Big blue and little violet?” You murmur, cheeks burning more intensely than any severe sunburn could possibly inflict on you as the warmth spreads to the tip of your ears, “That’s what she was so--”

“It’s nothing,” He huffs a little and rolls his head a little, the joints in his neck cracking from the tension that comes with a long day, "The younger ones in the tribe keep teasing me about you because they know they can get away with it."

You nod and quietly ask him one last question before he can leave, "Where is my vulptex? You said she was here, right?"

Paz chuckles a little as you frantically voice your concerns aloud, now that the two of you are safe and alone, "She is most likely in the nursery with the little ones. She has been fed and taken care of all day, cyare, please do not worry about anyone other than yourself right now. I’ll be out there if you need anything, just call if you need help."

You smile and give him one last 'thank you’ as he leaves you to wash yourself. Slowly and tiredly, you peel your clothes from your bruised and bloodied body and excitedly make your way into the shower.

A gasp nearly leaves you upon feeling the warm water gently pelt against your skin and you smile a little as you tilt your head backwards and let the water loosen the dried blood from your hair. A content sigh escapes you as you remove your metal cuffs from the tails of your braids and you place them on a little stone shelf next to yours’ and Paz's toiletries before getting to work on gently washing your mane, taking your time to make sure all the blood is removed.

You do everything in your power to not pay attention to the pink swirl of water that runs around the big drain in daunting circles. 

Instead, you focus on the scent of your comforting floral shampoo or the spicy, woodsy scent of your warrior’s toiletries as you curiously bring the bar of soap to your nose to smell it.

You're not sure how long you're under the warm spray of water, your eyelids threatening to slip shut, but eventually, you're finally clean and ridden of any proof that you've stolen a life. Reluctantly, you shut the water off and step out onto a furry mat, grabbing a towel that's neatly folded next to your canvas bag. As you dry yourself, making sure not to jostle your injured hip too much, you realize just how much better you already feel now that you're clean.

It’s only once you’ve put on your nightgown that you risk a glance at the little mirror that hangs above the sink and immediately freeze. You look exhausted, you realize as you stare at your wide-eyed expression with sadness and defeat, your eyes filled with the same kind of intense emotion that would be in a young warrior’s eyes upon coming back from war. Hastily, you turn your attention to your hair, carefully combing out all the knots with the comb that Paz had dutifully tucked into the canvas bag for you.

When you brush through your hair for what must be the hundredth time, you realize you’re only delaying the inevitable--him seeing your arms and the rest of your body so exposed in your nightgown, along with all the scars and welts displayed across parts of your arms and shoulders that he’s never seen before.

‘He is a warrior,’ You remind yourself fiercely, nervously tucking a wet lock of hair behind the curve of your ear as you muster up the courage to sweep the thick curtain to the side, ‘He is used to scars and he’s told you countless times that he doesn’t mind them.’

Your nerves are at an all time high as you spot your Mandalorian in the tiny kitchenette in his private quarters, setting a wooden bowl down onto the table and you tiredly smile as he places a small spoon next to it.

“Thank you for letting me use your shower.”

Paz turns around and freezes upon meeting your gaze with his black visor; you can feel water dripping onto the thin satin material of your dress, as well as down your neck and you blink with curiosity as he remains glued to his spot in front of the little table that you realize is next to a stone furnace. He’s holding a bowl with steam dancing along the surface and your mouth instinctively waters when you catch a whiff of all the spices and unfamiliar scents of the savory meal. Behind him, you see a small piece of bread and another bowl filled with vibrant fresh fruit and you feel your heart clench at the mere thought of eating something sweet.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me for everything,” He kindly informs you, pulling out a chair as an invitation to sit down as he sets the bowl on the table, “It is... nice to see you looking more like your normal self already.”

You smile warmly at him and take a seat as the Mandalorian begins to disarm his heavy weapons and equipment, placing them in a safe spot near his massive bed where they are readily accessible, should danger dare threaten him. You nervously fiddle with the wet ends of your clean hair as your knee bounces frantically, watching him as he begins to slowly remove his armor, starting with his pauldrons as he carefully places them in that large chest at the foot of his bed.

His helmet turns and he immediately notices your hesitation to eat the food he’s laid out for you, “You... You can help yourself, cyare. I have already eaten and I can tell you’re hungry.”

You politely murmur a quiet ‘thank you’, not noticing the way his shoulders drop a little as you finally pick up the spoon to eat, your stomach growling more intensely than a rabid beast. Tucking a leg underneath yourself, you tentatively blow on the steaming spoonful of delicious looking stew before bringing it to your mouth and before you can fully register all the different spices, your taste buds explode.

Paz nearly chuckles upon watching your eyes slowly close as you experience all the different flavors for the first time, “I’m going to shower while you eat.”

“Mhm,” You simply hum, barely aware of him shaking his head in an amused manner as you practically ignore him, focusing only on the well-seasoned stew as he makes his way to the refresher. 

You’re slightly sad when your spoon inevitably scrapes the bottom of the wooden dish, but excitement fills you when you remember the bowl of fruit that had been left for you. The berry you pick up is a deep shade of purple and covered in white streaks and you slowly let it slip between your lips, your shoulders falling when you bite into the berry, causing tart juice to explode in your mouth.

You’re not sure how long you must be savoring the fruit for, but eventually, your Mandalorian exits the refresher, completely ridden of all the padding and armor and his visor instantly seeks you out; you’re in the process of licking juice off your finger when your eyes dart upwards to find him standing only a few feet away from you. 

Immediately you freeze, eyes wide as he walks around with his scarred torso completely bared to you, his black sleep pants slung low on his hips and you find it nearly impossible to look away from the rich brown skin that he’s choosing to expose to you for the first time. The muscles of his shoulders and arms are more defined than his soft chest and stomach and you think he must carry most of his strength in those powerful arms, what with being his tribe’s heavy-infantry warrior.

You’re grateful that he’s not touching your cheeks or ears, that way he can’t truly tell how flustered you are. Instead, he dutifully retrieves an extra fur that’s folded in one of the drawers off to the side, only turning to meet your gaze once he’s done covering his mattress in the warm material.

He must take your wide-eyed expression the wrong way, because he almost sounds afraid when he quietly speaks up, “What? You do not wish to see me like this? Are you uncomfortable?”

Immediately, you abandon your fruit and stand up to approach him, “I think you are beautiful, Paz.”

He scoffs a little, but accepts a warm embrace from you as you rest your cheek against his sternum and hook your arms underneath his armpits so you can lay your hands atop his defined shoulder blades. Instantly, his arms are wrapped tightly around your own shoulders and he holds you close to his warm chest where you can feel his heart thumping against your ear like a beacon of power and strength.

“That is my line,” He murmurs, and your lips stretch into a tired smile against his soft skin, the dark curls loosely splayed along his chest are coarse as they tickle your cheek, though you don’t mind at all, “Besides, I thought you once said you would not dare to feed my ego anymore than you already have.”

You close your eyes, taking comfort in the deep rumbling of his chest and voice as you feel his heart thrum powerfully and frantically against your eardrum, “Something makes me think your ego is not as massive as I once thought it to be.”

He scoffs, but simply holds you close to him and you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt such comforting skin on skin contact like this; his huge arms simultaneously acting as a heater and a shield. He hums when you let out a relieved sigh, your warm breath fanning across his sternum as he shivers a little and brings a hand up to gently rub the back of your head, not caring that your hair is still dripping wet and getting onto his own chest.

“Sweetheart,” His chest rumbles as he speaks and your eyes flicker up to meet his visor, “We are both exhausted, it is time for us to rest, I think. Besides, I would much rather hold you like this in my bed.”

You smile and nod a little, watching as he stands tall and moves to turn off all the lights in the dim room. Hesitantly, you make your way underneath the thick furs that are draped on top of the mattress and as you let your head rest on top of a soft pillow, you fear that you will simply sink right through it, as you’ve never rested on something so pliable. Once it’s pitch black in the room and you feel the weight of his warm body dipping in the mattress next to you, you turn over onto your side to face him, despite not being able to see him in the slightest.

Immediately, your mind goes into overdrive as you think of what you’re supposed to do--what he expects from you--and you nearly jump when you feel the gentle weight of his palm carefully resting on top of your sunburnt cheek, his thumb tenderly stroking the tail of your brow. You’re not sure if you should move closer to him or what you should do with your hands as he moves the tiniest bit closer to you. Thinking of the Trandoshan and how you'd been pinned underneath his lifeless body for so long, you suddenly crave to feel his heartbeat and you scoot closer to the man that feels more like a furnace.

He doesn't say a word as he moves so he's on his back and lifts a big arm above his head, patiently waiting as you find a comfortable position to rest your head. Finally, after a few awkward seconds of the two of you fumbling around in the dark, your head finds its home on his chest, your cheek pressed against a thick, raised scar and you close your eyes with a soft smile. His arm comes down from above his head to hold you closer to him, his other hand moving to continue its previous ministrations on your cheeks and lips as you rest your palm above his heart.

You’re half asleep when you feel a crooked finger press up against the underside of your jaw, guiding your head upwards slightly and you gasp when you feel something warm and plush kiss the top of your hair.

You’re utterly unfamiliar with the sensation of being kissed, but when you feel the same pressure against your forehead, followed by an unmodulated sigh and warm breath fanning across your face, you realize the warrior has broken part of his sacred code.

He took his helmet off for you.

“P-Paz, you--” Your voice trembles and you feel his lips quirk into a smile against the brow he’s currently kissing before he moves to the bridge of your nose, “Your helmet!”

“What about it, sweetheart?”

You feel at a loss for words at the sound of his unfiltered voice and he lets out with a small chuckle at your intense reaction, humming softly against your skin as he squeezes you a little tighter.

“Can you see my face?” He questions softly against the apple of your cheek, and you shiver at the sound of his smooth baritone in the raw; when you answer him with a weak little ‘no’, he continues with amusement evident in his unfiltered voice, “Then I have not brought dishonor to my tribe or you.”

“Are you sure?”

He huffs out a small chuckle against the tip of your nose and you smile at how different his laughter sounds without his helmet--much lighter and less crackly--and you cling onto his warm voice as he firmly rubs the stress away from your shoulders and cradles your jaw with his other hand. After being handled so roughly and grossly by the Trandoshan, his tender hands fill your aching heart with love and relief; your eyelids slowly slip shut when you feel him move his torso a little off the bed so he can kiss your chin.

“I am positive, sweet nurse.”

Shyly, you lift your hand from his chest and rest it on the side of his neck as he lightly nuzzles his nose into the damp hair that’s just a little above the tip of your ear, seeming to feel no shame as he inhales the scent of your shampoo and conditioner.

You shiver when he presses another kiss into your hair and you speak up as your hand slowly inches up his neck, feeling all the little scars and veins that are prominent, along with the way his Adam’s apple shifts up and down when you graze past it, “Am I allowed to touch your face?”

He hums and moves his head to kiss all the areas on your face that he previously missed--the corners of your eyes, the spot between your brows, as well as the sides of your nose--but he ultimately decides to venture to the corner of your lips, “You may do whatever you wish to me.”

Your face grows hot as he captures your earlobe between his thumb and index finger, a large grin spreading across his lips when he feels the intense warmth on the pad of his fingers, and you shyly continue your ascent up to his face. The first thing you feel is a coarse beard and you nearly jump away from him when the wiry hair tickles and scratches against your sensitive palms; it feels neatly trimmed, cropped just a few inches underneath his smooth cheekbones and you think he must take great care to not slack with his daily hygiene or grooming.

Before you can make it to his nose, the massive warrior sighs against the corner of your lips and speaks in the most wistful tone you think you’ve ever heard--

“May I kiss you properly now, cyare?”

You freeze, completely caught off guard by his words as you hesitantly lift your head from his chest, aiming your gaze in the direction where you think his eyes must be as he reluctantly drops his head back against the pillow. His fingers tense along your sore shoulder blade and you fear that he must feel that he’s done something wrong because of your hesitation, but as you manage to turn and move until your chest is pressed against his, you shyly explore his plump lips with your fingertips.

Curiosity gets the better of you at the thought of exploring his lips with yours and you lower your head and use your hands to guide your lips to his in the darkness of his room.

Immediately, you soften against him, your palms cradling his scratchy cheeks as you shyly kiss him and you're surprised at how warm and soft his lips are against yours.

You can’t help but to grin a little at the deep groan he lets out when he seems to realize that you’re actually kissing him.

Tilting your head a little to the side, you find it easier to kiss him the way you wish and you feel Paz completely relax underneath the tiny weight of your body as you fully press your lips against his, the side of your nose lightly bumping against his. You can smell the minty scent of his own shampoo mixed with the woodsiness of his body wash and you think it intoxicates you as he reaches up to cup the back of your head to keep you from straying too far from his tender lips. 

A small whimper escapes you when his teeth graze your bottom lip and you feel lighter and bereft of all thought when you reluctantly pull away from each other, feeling like a night sky without her moon and you can’t stop yourself from stealing another kiss, earning another soft noise from the surprised man. 

Your heart pounds a little faster when you feel his hand dip down to your waist to carefully hike you further up his body so he doesn’t have to lift his head as much and you smile as you bring your hands up to cup his scruffy cheeks; as your thumbs graze his cheekbones, you’re delighted to find that they are just as warm as your own. You’re practically laying on top of him, though he doesn’t seem to mind the weight of your body in the slightest as he holds you close to him.

Paz makes a small humming noise as he gently rubs a large hand up and down your back, continuing to kiss the corners of your lips and cheeks with fervor even when you pull away for air; you close your eyes in bliss, unfamiliar with the affection, but also basking in his warmth--his love.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

He whispers the unfamiliar words several times against your warm skin and you think he must be telling you the sweetest words, what with how quiet and soft he’s grown underneath you and your curiosity immediately gets the better of you.

“What does that mean?” 

“In Mando’a, it means ‘I hold you in my heart forever’,” He explains, teeth grazing your sensitive jawline before moving upwards to steal another kiss from your grinning lips, “It is our way of telling another that we love them.”

You think it sounds far more beautiful than those other simple three words but you let the warrior kiss your lips as many times as he wishes, thinking that perhaps he’s never been this intimate with another. Also because you’ve never been showered with such affection and you think receiving it from Paz is one of the most beautiful phenomenons you’ve ever experienced.

"Your lips still taste like fruit," He informs you as his lips graze your jawline before moving to your ear, "I wonder if the rest of you tastes so sweet."

The gruffness of his tone combined with the way his teeth gently nip at your lobe has you feeling as though you're going to pass out or spontaneously combust. Shyly, you tuck your head firmly underneath his chin, your sunburned cheeks feeling even hotter as the warrior's chest rumbles with a deep laugh.

“I think you only wished to have me here so you can torment me,” You whisper against his bare neck, earning another chuckle from your Mandalorian as he continues to rub your spine in a comforting manner, “I don’t think I mind this kind of torment though. I would not mind having this every night, if you and your people were so kind to allow it.”

“They will,” He murmurs, squeezing you tighter to him, “Please, cyare, rest your eyes. You have had a long day, but you are safe with me now.”

You breathe a sigh of relief and contentment as your eyelids slowly slip shut, exhaustion overtaking your body as he continues to gently press tender kisses to your cheeks and brows until you fall into a strange sleep where you can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. You have nightmares of the Trandoshan’s body pinned against yours, as well as sweet dreams of spending the rest of your days underneath such tender care of your Mandalorian.

You’re in a strange limbo of intense nightmares and delightful dreams, but Paz seems to wake up whenever you whimper or let out with a small cry, reminding you in a hushed whisper that you are somewhere safe with him, rather than the infirmary or your hut. It’s not until you feel him stroking the tail of your brow that you fully fall into a peaceful sleep with visions of blue Beskar and strong arms.

You barely wake up with a quiet whimper hours later when you feel him lightly shuffling your body off of his before speaking in a soft, raspy whisper, “I must leave now for negotiations, cyare. You stay here and rest, okay? I shouldn’t be too long.”

“M’kay,” You blearily hum, nuzzling your face into the pillow that smells like Paz and you’re only slightly aware of the way he gives you one last kiss against your brow before he leaves you to put his armor and helmet on and begin his duties for the day.

You don’t sleep for too much longer, finding that Paz has taken all the warmth with him, even with the plush, thick fur that covers your body. You stare up at the ceiling for a few until you hear the covert slowly come alive, metal scraping against metal and loud shouts in an alien language followed by ringing laughter. Feeling slightly lazy and useless, you decisively get out of the comfortable, massive bed and make your way into the refresher, preparing yourself for what you think might be a long, strange day.

It feels bizarre seeing your hair without its flowers and a part of you wonders if Paz still has the flowers you gave him; perhaps you would still be able to plant them and grow some more, you ponder hopefully.

After you finish your typical morning routine, choosing to leave your hair without your usual braids, you throw on your leggings and sweater before cautiously poking your head out the door. You’re surprised to find the corridor empty and slowly leave Paz’s quarters, despite his insistence on you resting.

Curiosity has you nervously wringing your hands together as you make it to the staircase that Paz had led you down the previous night, and you jump a little upon hearing loud cheering and the shrill sound of metal clanging and scraping against each other. After finally making it up the stairs, you tentatively head in the direction that the ruckus is coming from.

It’s not until you hear Paz’s infuriated baritone of a voice that you make haste to the armory, barely remembering how to get there. Eventually, you round a corner and nearly freeze upon seeing several armored Mandalorians surrounding what appears to be some sort of altercation in front of the forge and you immediately sigh when you see a blue helmet right in the center of it. 

You spot Ima, who seems to stand out from the others with her bright armor and you perk up a little as you approach her.

“Ima,” You say her name just loud enough for her to hear over the a loud shriek of metal being scraped, successfully gaining her attention as she turns to face you, “What’s going on?”

“See for yourself,” She sounds slightly amused and you allow her to place a hand on your shoulder, urging you between her and another huge Mandalorian that barely cocks his helmet to look down at you, “Your ori kebiin verd is fighting for your honor, though I don’t think Djarin is putting up much of a fight.”

You gasp upon seeing the bounty hunter from the previous day crumbled to the ground on his knees, Paz’s hand curled into the thick material of his cowl to hold him up properly.

“How many credits did you deem her life worthy of?!” Paz roars and you instantly freeze, thinking you’ve never heard him this infuriated, even towards your father, “Tell me you fucking hu’tuun! Tell me how many credits you were given in exchange for an innocent, precious life!”

“Five hundred,” The bounty hunter rasps, sounding weak and terribly injured underneath all the Beskar and your instincts have you stepping forward, though Ima is quick to ground you in place with a hand on your shoulder; she simply shakes her head when you peer up at her.

“Five--you gave her away for five hundred credits?!” You feel frozen as Paz forces him to his feet and drags him over to the forge that is now activated, “You only did it because you thought she would be an easy target, didn’t you, Djarin?”

The bounty hunter grunts when Paz forcefully pushes him backwards, slamming his head against the outer rim of the forge before wrapping his fingers around the injured man’s neck and holding his shiny helmet close to the intense flames.

You immediately voice your fears to Ima, who seems unfazed, as though this is a common occurrence, “Is Paz going to actually kill him?”

“Nah, this happens all the--” She stops mid sentence upon hearing the bounty hunter’s grunts and groans from the intense, suffocating heat that’s trapped underneath his helmet, though Paz makes no move to let him go, “Actually, he might go through with it this time. If not, Djarin’s definitely going to wish he was dead.”

“What?” Paz scoffs when the bounty hunter begins to thrash a little harder against the warrior’s unwavering grip, the heat most likely becoming more unbearable, “Can’t handle a little heat, vod? I’m sure you’re crying under that damn helmet more than she cried when you forced her to cauterize her own fucking wound.”

“I didn’t--” The bounty hunter sounds like he’s trying to disguise his excruciating pain and you feel your shoulders tense up to your earlobes, hating that you feel sympathy for the man who attempted to trade your life away for such a small price.

“Do you know how many times she tried to tell you?” Paz’s voice drops to a terrifying growl, the noise crackly and you wonder what’s currently going through his mind, “Do you know what she already had to deal with every damn day and you--” Tears fill your eyes at the pain in his next words, “You know what she means to me and you made her too scared to even look at me, hu’tuun. I almost lost her because of my own brother!”

You fear that the bounty hunter has passed out when he doesn’t respond, his body growing limp underneath Paz’s grip, but the warrior continues, “Why don’t I help you with that heat problem, Djarin? Bet you could use a little fresh air.”

You gasp when a large hand moves to the chin of the bounty hunter’s shiny helmet, his fingers curling underneath the lip and you immediately understand what he wants to do.

“You’re going to look her in eyes when you beg for forgiveness at her feet, Din Djarin.”

Translations *this is for all the dialogue between Imalia and Paz*

norac bid Nusujii, ori kebiin=back so soon, big blue?

cuyir ibic gar orikih baar'ur, ba’vodu?=is this your tiny medic, uncle?

Elek=yes (Lek is more casual, like ‘yeah’)

Ni copad at haa'taylir kaysh=I want to see her

Gar liser't chayaikir kaysh guuror ibic=You can't tease her like this

Ni guuror kaysh=i like her

cuyir gar orikih baar’ur ratiin ibic pel=Is your tiny medic always this soft?

tion'jor an te tal?=why all the blood?

vaii cuyir te sarad gar rucuyir cyau'kuyc at dinuir kaysh?=where is the flower you were excited to give her?

cuyir te baar'ur shupur'yc?= is the medic injured?

ner alor=my leader

Then there’s the usual words for nicknames and such:

Saviin’ika=Little violet

Cyare=Beloved, loved, popular

Hu’tuun=Coward

Verd=Warrior

Author’s note: Thank you all so much for the kind, supportive words on the last chapter!! Like, literally everyone has been so sweet and so supportive despite me being more inactive than usual and it seriously means the world to me?? Like I said before, I’m so excited to have more time to be active on here and interact with you all much more!! I love you all so much, hope you’re having a wonderful day, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it <33

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester @auty-ren @theocatkov @oloreaa @talesfromtheguild  @blindedbyyourgrace17 @datmando @dartheldur @miscellaneous-mando @karpasia @ben-is-a-hoe @the-feckless-wonder @whatababeleia @maybege @aeryntheofficial @corrupt-fvcker @lackofhonor @phoenixhalliwell @crazy-kat-in-the-hat @roxypeanut @mandolovian @honestlystop @teaofpeach @macabrefaerie @acynicalcat @spaghetti-666 @readsalot73 @lanatheawesome @absurdthirst @anakinsittinginsand @yes-music-is-my-religion​ @tangledlove27 @justrunamok @peqchynero​ @haloangel391​ @honestlystop​ @cryptkeepersoul​ @haloangel391​ @awhiskeywithawinchester *As always, if I missed anyone, please let me know ASAP!! 

[stormyblue90]

Cobalt has made a new friend! He has caught the Pokémon Liepard!

Hmmm, I think I’ll name her… Saviin!

Saviin?

Yes, it means ‘Violet’ in Mando’a and she’s a purple Tooka!

I like it!

[duchess-of-mandalore]

The Mando’a of “Ben” Kenobi

(and bonus Mando’a fan linguistics for “Korkie” Kryze)

I’m waving my (constructed) language-nerd flag high today! Get ready to learn some Mando’a: Mando’a DIctionary

Though it’s not fully canon anymore, it’s been established that Satine Kryze is the one who gave Obi-Wan Kenobi the nickname “Ben,” which he used as his alias during his years of exile on Tatooine. That information comes from two sources: 

1) the now Legends book Kenobi by John Jackson Miller:

Excerpt read by James Arnold Taylor (start at 3:45): Meeting her [Annileen Calwell] gave me a chance to finally use the name I chose. You'll like this: Ben. I'd seen it on the map at the property office in Bestine; there's some mesa by that name ... Satine used to call me that. 'Twas a private thing ... Still, I liked the sound of it.

2) an unused concept for The Clone Wars series:

Found on the StarWars.com, “Deception” page:

(My guess is that Henry Gilroy or Paul Dini, the writers of the episode, where probably the ones to come up with that tidbit)

Anna and Dave couldn’t figure out an appropriate justification for “Ben” being an affectionate nickname, but that doesn’t mean that fans have stopped trying. A lot of us have turned to the Mando’a language, which is a relatively extensive constructed language, to justify the connection.

So here are several of my favorite fan theories involving Mando’a for how “Ben” became Satine’s personal nickname for Obi-Wan:

1) Ben is a contraction of the Mando’a word beten [BEY-tehn] = “sigh” 

I’ve seen this theory a couple places, but I first learned of it from @kotorswtor​. I love this one because it feels like an appropriate reflection of Obi-Wan and Satine’s argumentative relationship. He frustrates her (and vice versa) and makes her “sigh” in exasperation, and then uses that very word as a nickname, basically as a way to say “WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!”

2) Ben is a play on the Mando’a word kebiin [kay-BEEN] = “blue.” This is a theory I came up with, but that was inspired by SallyK’s fic Blue, in which Satine teaches Obi-Wan the word for blue, because “it’s similar to his surname and she finds that amusing.”

“Kebiin” does indeed sound a bit like “Kenobi,” and with a slight vowel shift, [been] could become [ben], or rather [beyn], which is how I think Satine pronounces it.

Interestingly, Satine sounds similar to the Mando’s word saviin [sah-VEEN] = violet, so together, they have a little color coordination going on.

3) Ben is a play on be’ni [beh-nee] = “the one who belongs to me; the one to whom I belong,” which comes from be = “of” and ni = “I, me”

Probably my favorite of the theories, I found this one in @spectral-musette​‘s Twilight of the Republic Vignettes. The compound word “be’ni” is a fan-created word, but I love the idea of this being a grammatical possessive. Given Satine’s inability to move on from Obi-Wan after 16+ years of being apart, I feel like a term of endearment that’s basically a claim and a vow is very appropriate. She looks at him and says “mine.” And Obi-Wan claiming the name for himself during his two decades on Tatooine bespeaks his own continued and lasting love for her.

Bonus: A lot of us really love Korkie, but some aren’t the biggest fan of his name (though it’s grown on me the longer I’ve been a fan). Here are a couple explanations for the name that I quite like:

1. Korkie is a nickname. I’ve seen this quite a bit in fics, but the ones I recall are Korbin and Korridon. The one that I personally use is Korthuis [KOR-this], which is a Dutch surname meaning “small house,” but which I use for no other reason that it sounds a bit alien, a bit aristocratic, and goes well when paired with Kryze or Kenobi.

2. Korkie is a Basicization (as opposed to Anglicization) of the Mando’a name Koor’kih [KOOR-kee] meaning “promise of the small/promised little one,” which comes from koor = “deal, contract,” and kih = “small.” Koor’kih is a fan-created compound word that was created by Twitter user MintMedic, who was inspired by the idea that Cody’s name is actually Kote [KOH-day, KOH-tay] the Mando’a word for “glory.”

I have tried to give credit to all those who have created these theories. Please feel free to use these theories in your own fics/headcanons, but remember to also give proper credit.

And If you know of any other Mando’a theories that people have come up with, please share them here!

[stormwarnings]

you’re a medic. you're very good at it.

you wanted to be a pilot.

they call you dreamer because you've never stopped looking to the stars, not once. you're quiet and fierce and those are good traits for a medic, apparently, so they put you in training and it turns out you're even better at stitching people shut quickly and efficiently. they keep calling you dreamer because you still gaze up at the stars when you can, beside the campfire, through ship windows.

it turns out that being a medic isn't quite like it works in scenarios. a lot of it is just holding your brothers’ hands as they die and telling them they aren't alone.

they keep calling you dreamer because you still wish you were a pilot, still wish you could escape to the sky and the stars. some nights you cant find them. some nights you don't bother to look.

you've got a jedi, too, a purple and white nautolan with a lightsaber the color of the sun at dawn. they look you in the eye and say, if there is anything you need, dreamer, don't hesitate to ask. the jedi aren't too bad. its the rest of the world that's cruel.

you know all your men by name. they’re your men, or they feel like they are, because you're the one who takes care of them and makes sure they live to fight another day - that's how it goes, right? you're the grand army of the republic. perseverance matters, not preservation. there will be no funerals for you, not in the end. sometimes, you're not even sure where you'll go when you die.

general fel asks, dreamer? commander hurricane yells, dreamer! your best friend adi says, dreamer.

they still call you dreamer because that's just your name, now. it doesn't matter what dreams you had. the stars don't seem so beautiful when you've lost a brother beneath every one.

you’ve got circles upon circles tattooed in black around your left eye, and hair you’ve let grow long, frizzing around your face. adi braids it back, runs their hands through it at night. adi is deaf in one ear but it doesn't matter since you dont talk too much anymore, anyway.

tell me a story, general fel asks you and adi and adi’s squad, runaround - lightning and pearl and saviin and tali. you’re an honorary member because of how close you are to adi, and so here you are, huddling around a fire with them on a distant moon. far above, the thin atmosphere reveals a tapestry of stars, winking and gleaming, splashed across the sky. you don’t look up.

pearl asks, can i hold your ‘saber, sir?

general fel tosses it to her with a smile, and then turns to the rest of you. he’s got that look in his eyes. he’s one of your men too, in a way; he’s your general, and he’s your friend, but his wellbeing is still your responsibility. he looks battle-worn, and you remind yourself to do a psychological check-in, at some point. the men need a general to lead them, and you need someone to follow.

general fel laughs at one of lightning’s stories, about their squad’s days staying out of the trash compactor, running combat simulations over and over. adi knows you too well, and paints a picture of you as a cadet - bright-eyed and stumbling over too-big boots, trying to memorize anatomy with your head still in orbit. 

so that’s why you’re called dreamer, then, general fel says, pleased as can be to puzzle out something new about his men. he makes the rounds like these at night for a reason. what will you do after the war, dreamer? you could be a pilot.

you shrug. after the war, you say. i’m still just a clone, sir. even if i survive. 

general fel’s face falls, a little. those dark eyes reflect the night sky above. you will, he promises, and you wish he wouldn’t. there will come an end, soon.

saviin perks up. really?

general fel takes back his lightsaber. he says, i think so. he’s right, of course. just not in the way he thinks.

you accept the transmission on your comms. there’s something in your head, and you stand up, turn with your brothers. jedi knight mey fel, tali says. you’re marked for execution. 

the night fills with blasterfire and purple armor dead on the ground. general fel’s blade, orange as a dying sunset, flashes out and around, but never fast enough. he deflects a bolt towards you, and there is pain in his eyes as he does it, but -

you’re relieved, when you fall. you’re relieved that the fight is finally over, that the mission can finally end. you’re relieved that the sky above you is full of stars, full of multitudes - full of light.

what will you do, dreamer? general fel had asked.

you go home.

[ironmandeficiency]

day five: ba & jort

ohmygod these boys are two of my faves, can’t have one without the other which makes the longest of all the posts abt my clone boys. i guess you can say i have favorites even tho i will vehemently deny it

playlists: jacob & ba - jort/belladonna

fics: who’s my commander & 13x7=28

a/n: jacob & bella belong to @capricornrabies & the art was made by @persaloodles

warnings: mentions of smut

is a soft and precious boy who tries his best

is a soft and precious boy who tries his best

got his name from this one time when his squad had to take shelter in a barn & the sheep wouldn’t let him sleep with his brothers in the loft area, instead keeping him by them the whole night and threatening to bite jort when he tried to free his batchmate

also has v v floofy hair which also works with the name

he and jort have joint ownership of best older brother ™️ title to naturally, a soft and pure medic-in-training (refer to 13x7=28 for details)

absolute mother hen to anyone and everyone. doesn’t matter if he met you an hour ago, you’re going to get mothered by this soft sniper

“you could pour soup in my lap and i’d apologize to you”

was selectively mute for several months after leaving kamino, jort helped him come out of his shell again and it’s fabulous

jacob sutton (younger sister to jamie) is an admiral for the 91st and their star cruiser crashed, and the 25th was the closest to send aid

ba sees jacob for the first time and tried to flirt but instead inserted his foot into his mouth with his awkwardness

but it gets better between them as time goes on. these two are my personal goal for the future

they have a precious massif named yogurt

jacob found him as a puppy by a dumpster on coruscant eating from a yogurt cup and was like “yes this is my boy”

ba would sometimes get to take him on campaigns. would have to fight who half the time just to see his girlfriend’s dog. when yogurt is a puppy the 25th will carry him around in one of those pet/baby backpacks

in a world where the war ends without order 66 and clones kinda get rights (but jacob doesn’t really get them bc of her status as a not-quite-person), they get a rude awakening when they realize that they wouldn’t legally get the post-war life that they deserve bc the republic isn’t letting her go

other clones help ba smuggle jacob (yogurt was listed as an emotional support animal) off-planet and they settle down in a house they build together. there’s a wraparound porch, a porch swing, fence for yogurt, etc.

since the republic doesn’t know what to do with the baby clones, kamino is commandeered and turned into a clone adoption agency. jacob and ba end up adopting four little boys who are their absolute world. they’re batchmates and were toddlers when adopted (so like 2-3 standard years, 1-1.5 clone years)

cabuor - his name is mando’a for “protect”; the oldest of the four, as he’s older he is the most protective of his bros. is basically jamie 2.0 and even tho he loves saviin they butt heads A LOT.

saviin - name is “violet” in honor of the 25th’s paint colors. jort 2.0. absolutely chaotic but highly lovable. there’s a problem? 99% chance sav caused it. first to start trusting ba and jacob. is the kind of child you would want to put on a leash

ciryc - his name means “cold” simply bc he runs colder than the rest of them. from the time they knew how, they would all dogpile w ciryc on the bottom to keep him warm. gets free pass to snuggle closest to jacob to get warmer faster. will steal jacob’s shirts (that once belonged to ba). sunshine baby!!!

meer - personification of 🥺. got his name from jacob who affectionately calls him a meerkat (he’s smaller and skinnier than the rest). jacob has a second shadow and his name is meer. has mute spells similar to when ba was young but eventually they only happened when he was startled/in new environment

so the boys were hesitant abt their new parents at first. it was only marginally easier for them to warm up to ba bc he was a clone but it took them nearly a year of living together for them to look at jacob and think “this woman is mom-shaped”

but once they get comfortable with her, these boys are all 100% mama’s boys

jacob has a metal spine (incident during her training) that clicks when she walks/moves/does anything. ba and jacob hear it and think of the trauma that led to it, but the boys hear it and their young minds correlate it to “mom, safe, comfort”

it leads to them being able to know when jacob is close to finding them during games of hide-and-seek

ba and jacob both get tattoos that represent their sons (and yes, yogurt too)

jacob has tattoos of handprints of ba, the boys, & yogurt’s paw on her back

ba would get tiny ones for the boys: a meerkat silhouette, a splash of purple “paint”, a shield, and a snow cloud

then he gets a massive one for jacob — a copy of her metal spine tattooed over his

jort:

he’s a bastard child and is proud to be one

scout & chaos bisexual

is a whore at first but when he’s w someone, has eyes for only them

got his name when he turned his blacks into a crop top and short shorts while on felucia during a heatwave

he ended up getting a handprint tattoo on his thigh/ass bc of how often he was smacked when he wore the short shorts

he and ba have joint ownership of best older brother ™️ title to naturally, a soft and pure medic-in-training (refer to 13x7=28 for details)

prankster af

look into his eyes, there is nothing behind his eyes except for elevator music. the only time he’s allowed more than one coherent thought is when the dvd icon hits the exact corner of the screen

will play up his dumbassery around ppl he’s uncomfortable with

will bully/blackmail his bros into going to the medbay — “don’t make nat’ika sad by hiding things, he only wants to help you” bc jort isn’t gonna get caught slippin. you won’t know he’s soft on you until he’s mother-henning you the way ba and naturally do for literally everybody

can bullshit his way out of any situation

isn't the best w crying ppl and will just try to make them laugh and hope that someone that can talk abt said emotions arrives soon usually this person is ba

“and i also don’t want me to be doing what i’m doing”

ends up dating the daughter of a very prominent mob boss who runs a fashion company in the form of seven feet and eight inches tall belladonna tomb, bella for short

has no idea whatsoever that he’s dating the daughter of a very prominent mob boss

bella thinks it’s an unspoken agreement to not bring it up but jort just. doesn’t know.

since bella is seven foot eight, jort can fit into her tops and is unashamed to wear “women’s clothes”. bella will design him clothes (and LOVES to be a model for bella’s clothes). his civvie fashion is comparable to harry styles

bella’s species is half soleon/half skeleton-monster-thing (soleons are an original lion-like species & the skeleton details are all made by cap, mentioned above) (also bella’s partly translucent and you can see some organs thru her torso) and she has talons and very pointy teeth and eyes that slightly glow jort ends up getting a tattoo of her teeth marks in his ass opposite to the handprint but that’s another story

when him and bella start becoming intimate, there are lots. of. marks. teeth, talons, you name it. the medics (esp no, poor man) are frightened that jort is bragging about these marks

then jort has the brilliant idea of sneaking his giant mob boss girlfriend into the barracks while on leave. somehow, maker only knows how, but NO ONE NOTICES until

late that night when everyone’s sleeping, her and jort are sharing his bunk (it’s a tight fit but they make it work). no is doing bed checks to make sure his bros are doing okay, as a concerned medic does. since bella is dark grey in color, she blends in to the dark barracks.

jort starts to fall from the bunk in his sleep and no sees that he’s abt to fall (but does not see bella) and just as no walks to jort’s bunk to fix him, a finely manicured and taloned hand snatches him back into the bunk and gives no a death glare and she deadass GROWLS

poor medic thinks his bro is abt to get eaten by a monster but doesn’t actually do anything to protect his bro from the “monster”

no immediately runs to find who and wakes up nearly everybody in the process. by the time no returns to the barracks with who in tow, jort is awake and is like “hey guys what’s up”

“WHAT IS UP?! THERE’S A KRIFFIN MONSTER WITH CLAWS IN YOUR BUNK!!” “oh no this is bella. bella, meet the boys. the boys, meet bella.” “hi”

ba wakes up during no’s windows shutdown, looks around and sees everyone wide ass awake and then sees bella and jort, “oh hey bella” and then goes back to sleep bc he knew bella

jort did hold ba’s hand while his bro got the spine tattoo for jacob

[saviin-art]

"Bestiario de las criaturas frutales"

Illustrations for my final school project

[thesummerstorms]

The RepComm Daemon AU is still very, very work in progress but so far I have:

Etain:

  Sea mouse. Named Fintan, meaining “white fire”, for an Irish mythological character who reportedly survived the Flood by changing his shape and later served as a sort of “repository of lost knowledge”. When she uses the Mandalorian alias Riye as a married adult, Etain will sometimes introduce him as “Saviin”, the Mandalorian word for “violet”, a color Mandalorians associate with survival and versatility.

The sea mouse can change its body to survive either in water or on land. It’s small, “defenseless” form lead Etain to often be overlooked, and Kal (among many, many others) reads into this daemon, seeing her as  “mousy”,  “small”, “timid”,  “weak”,  or “a scavenger” etc. It would be more properly interpreted as “adaptable”, “a survivor”, or “caught between worlds”. Kal and some of the other trainers or some clones have a negative reaction to seeing her daemon is a sea-mouse because it was also a common animal on Kamino, seen as a pest. Known to the Kaminoans as “iiaa”, Kaminoan sea mice had lost their adaptability and were commonly fed to Kaminoan’s pet and lab eels.

Fintan is a silver grey with dark black eyes, and fits neatly into Darman’s palm. Etain carries him tucked into her tunic or sleeve during non-combat situations, or in a special pouch on her belt during battle.

 After they’ve become a couple, Fintan sometimes sits on Darman’s daemon’s shoulder, and it’s speculated early on (correctly or incorrectly) that one reason for the discomfort between Etain and Ordo is the difference between their mouse and cat daemons.

Mereel: 

A  Concordian coastal variant of the Hook Hawk. Mereel’s daemon’s real name, known to the other Nulls, Etain, and a scarce one or two others, is Halimede (”Hali”), after one of the Greek Nereids (perhaps meaning “Queen/Lady of the Brine”, also referred to by Hesiod as “Halimede of the bright garland”). However he more regularly introduces his Daemon by the Mando’a name given to it by Kal’s daemon, “Dasala” from “ hodasalar” , “to camouflage or cover up”.

The hook hawk is described as “winged raptors with conspicuously hooked beaks that, like their razor-sharp, shiny talons, were adapted for gouging eyes. Their eyes were dark and expressed intelligence, and pivotal to their hunting, their voice glands had an affinity for producing gentle melodies pleasing to the point of hypnosis for prey.” This well describes Mereel’s deceptive charm, his bright and bold demeanor, and his deadly intellect and capability. 

Halimede/Dasala has bright silver and black feathers, a broad wingspan, and dark black eyes. Mereel’s brothers tease that she’s prone to “excessive preening”, but those who know Mereel well know she’s always listening. She will occasionally playfully pull Baati’s tail for the fun of it, but Baati is equally likely to swipe back at her tail feathers or stalk after her. Kal is bemused to see Fintan and Dasala gossiping, given the juxtaposition in their forms. The Concordian Coastal Hook Hawk is slightly smaller and less distinct than other versions of the bird, so Mereel often lies about what kind of raptor Halimede is while on assignment- people tend not to look past “showy bird”.

Ordo: 

A  Krownest Tooka. This (author-created) tooka breed is the Star Wars equivalent of a Norwegian Forest Cat. Ordo’s daemon goes by Baati, from the Mandalorian word “baatir”, “to care or worry about”, a name given by Kal. I have yet to decide if she eventually decides on a different name, but she uses it through the Clone Wars, at least.

The Krownest Tooka is “strongly built and larger than an average tooka”, weighing ~10-12 pounds with a long, bushy tail, a very angular face, and water-shedding fur. Meant for cold climates, Krownest Tooka are skilled forest hunters known for their intelligence -some claim rivaling Strill- but are also display very strong pack and family bonds. 

Baati has white and grey fur with bright amber eyes, and is on the large side even for a Krownest Tooka. She seems to carry herself with a serious, disinterested, demeanor, seldom speaking around strangers, but around the other Null’s Daemons demonstrates a playful hunting-stalking behavior, as well as a tendency to cuddle with and worry over the other Null’s daemons. 

Jaing:  

Fynock. Possibly  “Keres” after the Greek  “female spirits (daimones) of violent or cruel death, including death in battle”, although I’m still debating that, and that wouldn’t have been the name she received from Kal. 

Fynocks are avian, bird-like creatures with snake tails that live on the planet of Talus and were the atmospheric cousins of the vacuum-traversing mynock. Fynocks are considered “flashy” but “deadly”, and there’s debate among the kinds of people who try to read into a person’s daemon whether they indicate “viciousness” or simply a “fearsome determination”. 

Keres has vibrant gold and rust colored feathers with a poison-tipped copper tail.

[ranahan]

Ooo, I like some of your options!

Here’s that draft of mine I mentioned. Completely unedited since the last mention, so make what you will of it, lol. Maybe you can cannibalise something useful from it?

Mandalorian phonetic alphabet

N.B. names of the letters in Mandalorian alphabet could derive from phonetic alphabet (but it could be archaic/formal military Mando’a, not modern colloquial)

A atin/arpat

B buir/bajur/beskar/balac/behot/beviin

C cabur/cuyan/cuyot

D dral

E eyayah/edee/eyayt

G galaar/goran/goten

H haa’it/hokaan/haat

I ijaat/iisa/irud/iviin

J jatne/jenar

K ka’ra/kama/kando/karota/kote

L laaran/laarad/laar/lalat/lis’la/lisan

M manda/marev/morut

N naast/narser/nuhoy

O orar/ori’vod/

P parjai/parjii/prudii

Q Qiilura

R ramaan/ranov/riduur/ruusaan

S sarad/skira/saviin

T teroch/tor

U ukor/utra/uvet/ulmarah

V veman/verbur/veshok/vercopa

W werda/werlaar

Y yaim’ol/

F vhetin/vhipir

X ksar? Xim/Xer/Xantha/Xala/Xaczik/Dxun (pronounced /dɑksin/ > /ksun/?)?

Z Zhell

Easter eggs etc: echo (eyayah), papa (buir), victor (parjii)? tsikad (prep), galaar (eagle),

Solus

T’ad — ta’ad?

Ehn

Cuir — cu-iir

Rayshe’a

Resol

E’tad — ee-tad?

Sh’ehn — she-ehn? sheh-ne?

She’cu

Ta’raysh

Do u have any thoughts on... Mando'a letter "names"? Aurebesh and Sith have letter names, and the greek letter names exist, so... *think*

Nothing finished, but I have thought that if you wanted to lean on the military culture thing, then the names of the letters might be the same as the phonetic alphabet.

And if you like the Mando’a as a creole headcanon, imagine if you shanghaied a bunch of folks who don’t speak your language into a NATO army and taught them that this is how you spell things. What are they going to think are the names of the letters?

That’s of course assuming that a phonetic alphabet is an obvious enough an invention that Mandalorians have invented or copied it, and that technology hasn’t made it obsolete.

I do have somewhere an unfinished draft of a phonetic alphabet & I’ve also seen others floating around. Might even have reblogged one iirc. There are certain design restrictions (e.g. words can’t sound too similar or be too common), and on the other hand, I think a spelling alphabet might be something that could fossilise and stay unchanged even though the language around it changes, so it might be a bit archaic. Possibly Neo-Crusader archaic.

Or you could go with something boring like Finnish or English letters, of course.

[poedjarinwrites]

.0, mother

Star Girl, prologue Din Djarin x fem!OC

Masterlist

(gif not mine!)

MANDALORE, OUTER RIM

Besides the distant sounds of blaster bolts meeting Beskar armour all the five year old can hear is the laboured breathing of her mother as she holds her tightly to her body. Hidden beneath a dull purple cloak her small hands grip around her mother's fragile neck.

'Mama.'

'Hush.' A hand is placed on her head, pushing her into the crook of her neck as she pauses at a stairway. It's silent, the blasters have stopped. But then a loud boom rings out and her mother begins her quick paced journey again.

'Mama...'

She grips her tighter, shoving her head into her neck to try and silence her impatience whines. 'We're almost there, star. Just a few more moments.'

'I'm tired.'

'As am I.'

Her words are accompanied with a tired sigh. The doors burst open with her harsh push, she surveys the roof of the building before setting her daughter down. Never once removing her touch form her as she keeps her close with one hand clutched in her own.

'You weren't followed?'

'No, ma'am.'

'You are sure.'

The man before her nods once. The young girl just tilts her head at him, he has dark hair, and armour not quite like the ones of other Mandalorians. He flashes a quick smile in acknowledgment when his eyes lands on her, but his gaze is set when he faces the Duchess again. The face of a soldier.

'Duchess, we don't have much time.' The man tells her.

Satine kneels, her hands cup her daughter's chubby cheeks and forces her gaze away from the stranger. 'You must be brave, star.'

'Mother-'

'No, listen to me,' She tells her and forces her gaze away once more, 'Once this is over you will be the last of pure Mandalorian blood. The heir to the troubled throne. No matter how you may be tempted to come back, do not. Never come back here. Escape, build a life somewhere,, do not come back to Mandalore.'

Her small brows furrow, 'But you're here, mother.'

'I will not be.'

'Mother?'

'You have a gift, Saviin. Your dreams, they may come true-' The girl's eyes fill with tears the moment she hears it. Her dreams and visions of her mother falling dead at her father's feet, skin a few shades paler but robes darkened by blood flash before her eyes.

'I thought if I kept you from your father you would not inherit it, but it seems you still have.'

'If I stay you will die?'

'No.' Satine shakes her head, 'It's been my destiny since you saw it. A path I can no longer run from. Yours is yet to be paved, survive, hide and survive and then-' She moves some hair out of her face to hold her cheeks better, she wants to see her better, wants to see those eyes that belong to her husband, 'Then, you may choose your own fate.'

She leans back and takes the long silver chain from around her neck hanging it around her smaller frame. 'I'll always be with you. As will the Force.'

'Mother.'

'I love you, ad'ika.'

Satine kisses her forehead then stands and retreats back to the stairs. Saviin leaps forward yet the strong arm of the soldier prevents her from moving. 'No!'

'Let's get moving, kid.'

'No! No, mother!'

He hauls her over his shoulder and onto the ship, strapping her down in the chair besides his as he and another man who looks identical to him pilot's them away from the destruction below.

'Where are you taking me?'

'Ever heard of Ithor?'

'I do not want to go.'

'There's a lovely family waiting on a child of their own.'

'They're not my family.'

He sighs and glances at her over his shoulder. 'When the war is over I'll come and find you. I'll take you back to Coruscant, to Naboo, wherever you want to go.'

'I want to go home. To Mandalore.'

'Mandalore is no more. None of us can go home.'

He doesn't say anything else. And the girl is forced to sit in silence for the rest of the flight to their destination.

When they arrive as promised a man and woman stand as they await the promise of their first child. They stand with identical smiles, one with hair so blonde it mirrors the planet's sun, another his hair so dark it looks like the night sky. Their arms are linked, they're in their best robes, which to the daughter of a duchess looks like nothing.

She doesn't let go of the man's hand when he stops in front of them. He sighs, 'Saviin, you must let go.'

'No. Take me with you. I can help.'

He glances to the few paces away where her adoptive parents wait for her. Then he kneels to the ground and pulls off his helmet to set it beside himself on the grass.

'These people will take care of you.'

'No they will not.'

'They will. You're their foundling now.'

She shakes her head, 'By the Mandalorian way one who is orphaned-'

'Just like your mother,' The man says with a smile, and then after a long pause he adds, 'And your father. Both devoted to their ways. You get your stubbornness from them.'

'Take me home.' The final request is desperate. She knows he will not go against his promise to her mother. She is just a child. No one listens to her. Her aunt didn't when she asked her to stay, her mother didn't when she revealed her troubling dreams. This soldier who is devoted to the cause won't either.

Her adoptive father steps forward, 'Saviin-'

His hand, gentle yet not as loving as her mother's, clasps over her shoulder. 'Saviin, you must let him go.'

'No.'

He looks up at the man, then back at her. 'When the war is over I shall return. I'll live here.'

'I want you to take me with you. Not stay here.'

He unclips the small badge that is attached to his armour and hands it over to her, she squeezes it in her palm. It's a small yellow jewel with his rank and CT number beside it. 'Your father gave me that. It's my most prized possession. I shall return for you to get that back from you in a few years.'

When she's distracted reading over his number, cmd. CT-2224, he takes his leave. She knows he's gone, she feels the warmth of his presence leave. Yet she still fights to break from her new father's grip to chase through the jungle after their ship in the sky.

Somewhere along the way she drops his badge, his reason to return lost. She briefly glances over her shoulder, the small farm house no longer visible, nor the town she could see as they landed.

'Cody!' With a strangled yell of his name, one last attempt to reach him, she falls to her knees. Watching a twinkle appear in the sky as the ship disappears.

Her head hangs low, hair covering her face, not noticing the shadow of the ship that looms over her above.

'Saviin.'

[eyeloch]

Ursa: Tristan Wren, you were named for a great warrior of our clan’s past - in the hope you would grow to lead with the same decisive skill.

Tristan: Thank you, mother.

Ursa: Sabine Wren, you were named for the colour violet, in Krownest’s own dialect of Mando’a - 

Sabine: Because, like the running flower saviine is named for, you hoped I could grow past the limits set upon us in this age?

Ursa: That’s very poetic, but actually you were named for the colour your face was as you came out.

[stubbychaos]

IS PAZ GONNA TELL HER HIS STUPID NAME? ARE YOU REALLY GONNA DO THIS TO ME??

HIS STUPID NAME--💀💀

AGHH U KNOW I HAD TO DO IT TO 'EM THO💖💕