Topic: Boba Fett Fanfic "A Warrior's Armor"
I've been a fan of Fett for so long but never worked up the courage to write him before! Let's just say I find the new source material on The Mandalorian very inspiring. I started a mini-fic on AO3 after watching the season finale of The Mandalorian -- watching events unfold surrounding Fett's return got me thinking about what it meant for Fett to reclaim and re-paint his armor, while reflecting on his origins. I love a good dive into a character's psychology - so as a warning, this is very much that kind of story.
Planning to post at least one more chapter in the coming weeks (2nd chapter is mostly drafted right now).
Direct link to AO3 because of course I want the hit
A Warrior's Armor: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28219233
Rating: General Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Fandoms: The Mandalorian (TV); Star Wars - All Media Types
Characters: Boba Fett; Jango Fett; Fennec Shand; Din Djarin
Summary: Boba Fett has reclaimed his armor, but he recognizes that both he and the Beskar are not the same as they once were. An exploratory deep dive into Boba Fett's complex relationship with his inheritance (and his father) and why a new coat of paint was in order. Another chapter coming soon.
Shutting a portal behind him, he removed the helmet – his father’s helmet, his helmet. Holding it with both hands, he felt the dense weight of the Beskar sinking into his palms as he held the heirloom in front of his chest. With his left hand, he gripped his fingers around the bottom edge of the helmet, taking his right thumb to gently brush away a thin layer of sand and grime from a cheek mottled with scars and a chipped coating of green paint.
With the damage from the Sarlacc and, to a much lesser extent, the marshal Cobb Vanth, there was more silver than green, revealing the dun gleam of the Mandalorian alloy beneath.
Dad would polish the Beskar, Fett recalled fondly. Like Din, his father Jango had chosen to let his Beskar breathe, its luster a menacing promise.
“It doesn’t matter if they can see me. I’m coming for them,” his father had told him.
Every scratch, nick, dent, and deformity in the armor had origins – Fett mused he had once been able to recollect the various encounters, scraps, and struggles that had conceived the markings on his kit.
For each blemish was a story, the armor a saga of survival.
I'll plan to post this to the BFFC Fanfiction section once it's completed (I'm honestly not sure if you can edit / add chapters to stories once posted on BFFC?)