#but it's also about sarlaccs

[redbean-nom]

Designs for adult versions of the clone cadets in bad batch as Rebellion leaders

The first weird thing I noticed was that they kept specifying that tbb are "defective CTs", whereas iirc most other clones leave out the "ct" part. additionally, "special training" must have been a reasonably expected occurrence for them, since it was used as the Hemlock-jungle-lab excuse. they're also, oddly enough, the only three survivors from a base full of both cadets and adult clones. and finally, all three of them have noticeably different face shapes.

so my guess for their origins is that they're the results of the kaminoans trying to replicate tbb's mutations in a commando template, making them all specialized CC command cadets. From what we've seen of them, they don't seem to have quite as prominent abilities as say, wrecker or hunter, but are definitely above average to have survived that long.

Anyways the mini-backstory for them here is that they end up joining the rebellion around 5 years later (assuming that they're 6/12 and 8/16 in tbb s3, they would be 11/22 and 13/26 here) as the lead squad for the clone rebel cell after rex, wolffe, and gregor retire (and echo and cody are presumably dead).

Bonus: I originally had Deke's hair as dyed blond, but then he started looking too much like Rex (esp with the jaig eyes and partial arc armor) so I changed it back

edit: sorry i forgot to tag spoilers at first! it has since been fixed

[honorhunt]

🌸 If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog. 🌸

i. i am the antithesis of a sweet tooth. desserts are often too rich and overwhelming for me. but i do like mildly sweet foods when tempered with spice! like one of my favorite treats is hot chocolate topped with cayenne and cinnamon. or how at the wedding i just attended, i didn't have a slice of the cake, but i did torment the chai machine.

ii. i am citizen of more than one country.

iii. i was diagnosed with severe adhd and dyslexia when i was 9/10. which has made my lifelong passion for writing a frustrating, triumphant, yet trippy experience.

[tangents-within-tangents]

Echo canonically being sentimental (and a sweetheart)

With his armor, there's also the "For Hevy" memorial, the fact he kept Rex's handprint, and that he put the Bad Batch skull on his armor before he even joined them

Echo holding 99 as he died has always stuck out to me as one of the saddest/sweetest things in TCW (especially since the show rarely actually shows clones mourning/expressing much emotion)

I also noticed that Echo is often the one to mention his brothers by name, and make sure they're remembered. And of course his entire thing about saving his brothers and leaving no one behind. (Also that he turned the call signs into this like nickname/inside joke thing with Omega is so adorable to me ahh)

--

And then there's whatever this is:

Not even a reaction to the name (and we know they are good at implying expression under those helmets)! I know this is old news but it bears saying lol. They had the perfect opportunity here to not only address Echo's loss, but also to honor Fives and the sacrifice he made to discover the chips. A sacrifice which saved Ahsoka, Rex, and now the Bad Batch. This is obviously not the first time Echo and Rex talked about Fives, he knows he's dead (I firmly believe he would not have left the 501st if Fives was still alive), but come on! This did the bare minimum to check the box of 'mention Fives.' How about you cut Wrecker getting attacked by a sarlacc or whatever and give that screen time to show us an actual conversation?

Like I found this bit in an interview:

While the conversation obviously never happened onscreen, Corbett says that doesn't mean it never happened, suggesting the two talked offscreen, saying "For Fives, I imagine that Rex and Echo had that conversation after he was rescued off of Skako Minor, and I know in Season 1 we did have Rex reference Fives on Bracca," adding "So, in my headcanon, they've had many conversations about Fives."

And I'm just like... Jennifer! You don't have to have headcanons, you are literally the writer! Show us!!

(Also he should have gotten his handprint again no I will never let this go)

[gloomwitchwrites]

Twin Suns

Bounty Hunter Boba Fett x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, breakup / makeup, suggestive themes, canon-typical swearing, mando’a

Word Count: 1.4k

You broke it off, but Boba isn’t finished.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // summer 2024 masterlist

Mando’a Translations: cyar’ika – darling / sweetheart

Hookah smoke hangs low in the air. The cantina is dim and the noise inside is a dull, persistent roar. Behind the bar, you clean glasses, gaze watching the room for thirsty customers. To the right of the bar is a small stage where a band plays music. It’s loud enough to drown out most of the conversations in the room but not enough to silence them.

It’s a stark difference from your previous work. Being a dancer in Jabba’s Palace brought you protection and money, but it also brought admirers. Most of them kept their distance due to Jabba’s presence, yet there was one you gravitated toward.

One you often snuck away with. One you gave your heart to.

Jabba the Hutt’s favorite contract killer, Boba Fett, ate you up like a Sarlacc. He slipped into your life and you gladly opened for him.

But all of that is gone. You left, and here you are, working away in a Mos Espa cantina, scrounging up enough credits to leave Tatooine behind you. It’s certainly not the life you want for yourself, but the best thing now is to earn enough to start fresh elsewhere.

Setting the glass in its proper spot, you turn, reaching for another. It draws your attention away from the bar, and when you glance up again, the glassware nearly slips from your hand.

A Mandalorian helmet with cracked and peeling green paint stares back. The rest of the armor is much of the same. It’s worn but no less intimidating. Boba Fett stands casually while the people next to him at the bar quickly grab their drinks and makes themselves scarce.

“I’ve been looking for you.” His familiar gravelly voice comes through the voice receiver, and it plunges directly into your heart.

“What makes you think I wanted to be looked for?” you reply, unease slipping into your tone.

You don’t hate Boba—far from it. Deep within your soul, you still care for him. When you’re alone in the dark, you often find yourself thinking of his touch and the way his lips felt against your skin.

But you ran away from everything for a reason. And still, this man came after you.

“You’ve always loved a chase, cyar’ika,” he answers with a gentle tease.

Memories resurface suddenly and without warning. Jabba’s smoky throne room where you’d dance for his guests. The saunter of Boba’s hips when he’d walk into the room and head right for you. The first time Boba touched you far from the eyes of Jabba and his cronies.

Boba chased you until you folded, placing yourself in his arms.

You swallow back a sharp retort, putting on your professional face, changing the subject. “Can I get you anything? A drink? Food?”

Boba’s helmeted head tilts slightly. “I want one thing.”

“I’m not on offer,” you reply immediately.

“Then can I have a few minutes of your time,” he counters. “Alone.”

Kriffing hell.

You glance over your shoulder at the other bartender. She nods subtly and you set down the glass and polishing towel.

“Come with me,” you murmur.

Boba pushes off from the bar and follows you. The two of you slip behind a curtain, entering a kitchen space. The three droid cooks don’t even acknowledge your presence. Stopping at some spiral stairs, you turn back toward Boba. He’s directly behind you, blocking your escape, gloved hands on either side of the railing.

“This way,” you breathe, ascending the stairs as quickly as possible.

You feel him at your back, his body so close you swear you can sense his heat. The stairs spit the two of you out on a little landing. Up here is mostly storage, and it’s a mess. The owner of the cantina insists he’ll clean it up but he’s never here enough to actually care or do anything about it.

As soon are your feet land on flat flooring, you beeline for the large window on the other side of the room. The twin suns are starting to descend, the evening coming quick, but still fending off the cold dark.

Staring out across Mos Espa is easier than looking at Boba directly.

“What do you want to talk about?” you speak to the window. In the glass, you notice Boba’s reflection. He’s moving toward you—a slow saunter.

Even though you cannot see him directly, you know he’s right there next to your left shoulder. Your chest is tight, stomach twisting, and your skin tingles with awareness. Beskar brushes against your arm, and then Boba’s gloved hand slips into your own.

You do not pull away. He is warm, and so close it aches.

“You were mine,” he says, and the possessiveness in his voice draws forth a shiver.

It’s a reminder of all the times the two of you were alone in bed together, with him buried between your legs, tangled up in white sheets while the rest of Tatooine slept. With every roll of his hips, and every languid kiss, he’d call you cyar’ika and whisper mine.

“I was,” you murmur. “Not anymore.”

Boba tugs on your hand. It’s a gentle pull but it forces you to turn into him. Boba is right there, head tilted toward your face as if to kiss you. His other hand comes up and rests against the side of your throat.

“You left without talking to me.” His grip tightens and your free hand reflexively rises, pressing against his beskar chestplate.

You lick your lips. “I needed to go. It wasn’t safe for me.”

Boba draws you close, foreheads nearly touching. “Did you not feel safe with me? Something I did?”

You shake your head. “No.” You glance into the T-shaped visor, only wanting to see those dark eyes again. “Can you remove your helmet?”

Boba drops his hand from your throat. Reaching up, he disengages the seal, and then the helmet is gone. Your eyes track tanned skin and dark eyes. Your hand on his chestplate ascends, fingertips brushing against the stubble on his chin and jaw.

Boba turns his head just as you’re about to run your fingers over his cheeks. You caress his lips instead, and they part slightly in invitation. It’s hard to resist, but you do.

Dropping your hand away, you look down at his chestplate.

“Being with you put a target on my back.”

“No one knew about us,” murmurs Boba. “And I would have handled it.”

You glance up. “Would you? I was under Jabba’s employ. I don’t think he’d appreciate one of his dancers fornicating with his prized bounty hunter.”

Boba grimaces. “You were an employee. Not one of his slaves.”

“That doesn’t matter to Jabba,” you insist. “Remember the guy who slapped my ass? Jabba took his kriffing hand. I don’t even want to think about what Jabba would do to you had he found out about us.”

“And you think you’re safe here?” Boba indicates the cantina with an outstretched hand.

“Bib Fortuna said I was clear. It’s the other bounty hunters I’m worried about. Your competition.”

Boba scoffs. “I’d vaporize them before they even tried to put their hands on you.”

You pull your hand from his and raise them up before you. “You can’t protect me, Boba. And I don’t want to burden you.”

Boba steps into your space, trapping you against the window. “But you still love me.”

“I never said I didn’t,” you reply softly.

With a low groan, Boba grasps the back of your neck and draws you in. His mouth crashes against yours, the two of you meeting again and again until you start to melt, wrapping your arms behind his neck, wanting him even closer.

“Why did you run?” he asks between kisses. You seek another but Boba’s grip on the back of your neck halts all forward movement. “We could have talked about this. You didn’t need to flee.”

“It was easier,” you breathe.

He shakes his head. “You’re leaving this place.”

“Boba,” you breathe.

“Hush,” he coos. “I’m taking you with me.”

“And go where?” you shrug.

“Somewhere safe,” he says softly. “We’ll go on my ship. And I’ll take you far from here.”

“But you can’t tell me where?”

Boba sighs. “I have a place I go to when I want to get away. I’ll take you there.”

“Jabba doesn’t need you?”

“If he needs me, Bib Fortuna will call. That’s how it’s always worked.”

You glance out the window. The suns have lowered, the sky a purplish-red. “When do you want to go?”

Boba draws you back to him, pressing a lovely kiss to your lips. “Right now.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @foxxy-126 @km-ffluv

@sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@tulipsun-flower @enfppuff @ninman82 @nomercyforthewarrior @padawancat97

@garfunklevibes2012 @pigeonmama @beebeechaos @no-oneelsebutnsu

[phoenixkaptain]

Luke’s biggest character flaw isn’t impatience or arrogance… it’s reckless optimism.

Like, Luke doesn’t actually think he can beat Darth Fucking Vader in a fight. He wants to get revenge, yeah, but he doesn’t think he’s a better fighter than Darth Vader, he thinks he’s luckier than Darth Vader.

Luke isn’t actually suicidal, despite how little effort you’d have to put in to provide evidence that he could be. He thinks, no, he knows he’s lucky. He’s used to being lucky, even. His survival tactics all sort of depend on Luke being the luckiest person in the room at any given time.

And he isn’t actually all that lucky, that’s pretty obvious, but he really just thinks “If I stay alive long enough, things will eventually just work out.” Like he believes in the Force before he even knows about the Force, almost. Some thingd are just supposed to happen, and his own continued existence as a free man is one of those things, so if he waits long enough, an opportunity will eventually show itself and all Luke has to do is grab it.

He is stupidly optimistic about his chances. But, he’s also not wrong? Like, he doesn’t win his fight against Vader, but he’s also one of the only people who have fought Vader twice and not died either time. He went and rescued Leia without a plan beyond “rescue Leia” and he made it out relatively unscathed. He got captured by a wampa and hypothermia, one right after the other, and he only has to spend a bit of time floating in space jell-o that isn’t quite set. He goes to Dagobah and gets the training he requests from Yoda, despite Yoda not wanting to train him. He rescues Han from Jabba the Hutt, and he doesn’t get fed to a sarlacc in the process.

But really, just look at his final fight with Vader. Luke just honestly believes that everything will be fine. He really thinks he can just ask his dad to please chill out and Vader will. Luke tells the literal actual Emperor of the entire fucking galaxy “No. I will not become evil. And I won’t be evil because I’m not actually angry at anyone.” Luke is the luckiest man alive, because he is still somehow alive.

Heir to the Empire really has him thinking “If I stay alive long enough, an opportunity will present itself” on the planet Myrkr. As in, the planet covered in ysalamiri that cut him off entirely from the Force. As in, Luke doesn’t feel the Force telling him to be patient because it’ll all work out. Luke just believes that.

And it only really hit me as I read that novel. Luke is aggressively, stupidly, recklessly optimistic at all times about his chances of survival. Like, he is one meta joke away from just being actively aware that he is a protagonist and therefore can’t die in the middle of a plot. He’s optimistic about his own life, his dad’s life, his sister’s life, his droid’s life; Luke is the most optimistic man alive.

He is not the most cheerful person. There’s a difference between optimism and happiness, and Luke is a character who is constantly doubting himself, but he also just fully believes in his own ability to stay alive. Like he thinks “As long as I’m in mostly one piece, that’s a success :)” He thinks “wow I’m a terrible Jedi. I don’t know what a Jedi is, but I’m pretty sure I suck at it,” while at the same time being the character who believes in and listens to the Force more than Qui-Gon Jinn.

All this to say, I really hope that one day I can be as optimistic as Luke Skywalker. That man felled a galactic Empire with enthusiastic optimism and familial love alone, I wanna be like that.

[phoenixyfriend]

Do you want another Jangosoka concept?

Concept is that Boba finds a… something on Tatooine that looks like Weird Force Shit. He does not know any Jedi or Sith, personally, but he knows three people who do have connections to Jedi:

Han Solo, whom he has on speed dial despite hating each other, and losing most of his contacts with his comm when the Sarlacc ate him

Din Djarin, whose kid goes to school Somewhere With Jedi? Maybe? he's not entirely clear on how much contact Djarin has with Skywalker these days

Bo-Katan Kryze, who has Ahsoka Tano on speed dial

Obviously, he goes through Bo-Katan first, because Ahsoka Tano knows more about general Force things than the latest Skywalker, and has less of a Direct Grudge against Boba himself.

So he makes a call and tries to ignore the Weird Force Thing that he just poked. He waits a few days.

Ahsoka shows up. She holds the thing. It is confusing.

They have a stupid argument built on Uncomfortable History at some point, and Boba being a grump, and he snatches it from her, managing to slice his finger on one of the edges.

A few drops of blood get on the weird force thing, and there is a flash of light, and suddenly there's a half-dead Jango Fett in the room.

Like "He has visible burns on his neck from Mace's lightsaber, but still has his head, as if he was pulled through time from the very moment before of his death."

Which Big Oops

Boba is panicking. Ahsoka is trying not to admit she's freaked out. Jango is. clawing as his throat dude stop that.

Ahsoka's the one that had enough brains to call for a medic and keeps sitting at his side to keep a Very Judgemental Eye on him, but she's. You know. Jedi. So Jango is constantly suspicious of her.

(He thinks Boba is a faulty fast-aging clone, like 99, because that's the only thing that makes sense.) (Also he doesn't acknowledge Ahsoka's "I'm not a Jedi" thing.)

Ahsoka's had thirty years to come to terms with the death of her people but she's also, for obvious reasons, still judgmental as fuck and has a lot of questions.

But also this was necromancy, which is Sith Or Nightsister Bullshit, and she needs to make sure he's not about to get possessed and go hunting for Force Sensitive babies or something insane like that.

(The reason the object drew Jango is because of the totally coincidental identical DNA. Turns out the object is intended to bring back the dead using a body sample of the corpse, but identical blood will do if there's a dead person with the same.)

IDK where exactly it goes from here but it's 44yo Jango, 45yo Boba, and 49 Ahsoka Plus Fennec, who's just hanging around

They need to bring around someone Jango actually knows and will trust, because obviously Boba is a fake and Ahsoka's a liar and this is all some weird Jedi trick.

Options are Maz Kanata (who's definitely old enough to remember him), or Bo-Katan herself, except they try Bo since she's closer and it turns out she was still a toddler when Jango went missing so that's not going to help at all.

Mij or one of the other Cuy'val Dar could theoretically still be alive, and Sabine has parents that might have known him before they joined up with Pre.

Fennec knowing him would be a BIT too easy.

I'm imagining that the call goes as Boba explaining that, well, there's this one guy that he knows, that his dad was close with, but the Sarlacc kind of ate his comm unit and he hasn't had the time or resources to hunt down all his contact numbers and whatnot yet, so he's not sure how to go about actually calling the guy, and so they have to politely ask Bo-Katan if she, as Mand'alor, can find the contact information for one Mij Gilamar. Boba's pretty sure he's still running a clinic on Insert Planet Here, so it shouldn't be too hard to get, it's just kind of impossible from Tatooine.

[undercat-overdog]

Third and fourth episodes worse than the first two. Thoughts in no particular order.

General note: I have seen people say that RoP needed more time to develop and that studio pressures to make it faster paced hurt the show. No, what RoP needed was less time and ideally fewer storylines. Desperately need an editor. And no, this isn't a complaint about slow pacing. Its problem there is that pacing is inconsistent.

Other general note: the show has a major problem with timelines, both in its internal narration and how it fits with Tolkien canon. There are a bunch of third age elements popping up (Kings of Men burying their dead in the Barrowdowns? What Kings of Men!), but there are internal problems too, especially the disconnect between Isildur and Numenor (was Isildur in suspended animation for the time it took for Elendil to go from Mordor to the coast and then for not-Brego to travel all that way back?) There's no sense of time or distance.

Things I liked:

The spider fight at the beginning was fun! Nonsensical but very fun. Loved the gleaming spider eggs.

I like the evil Istar and his evil minions, even if the main minion dude stole his mask from General Grievous. I'm also really into the desert setting! It's new and unique.

Some of the set design is very nice. Numenor's is so pretty and I liked Tom's house, especially the star map on the ceiling.

I hope they're going for a romance with Isildur and what's-her-name. It's shallow but cute. If we must have a dead mother, I like how it was drowning and not childbirth or illness, especially in Numenor (though why the angst, Isildur, isn't the sea is always right?) I was meh on a lot of that storyline, but Isildur's cute and so is his horsemance.

Things I didn't like or were neutral on:

A minor sin, but I cannot get over how bad makeup is and has consistently been from the beginning. This time it's Saubranatar and the blond elf OC: their foundation is not the same shade as their skin and goes horribly with the wigs (blond elf OC desperately needs some purple conditioner, very brassy). At least in Bombadil they finally found a character for whom blush overload is appropriate.

Reallllly not a fan of the prosthetics either, especially with the new hobbits.

Still hate the hobbit storyline and now I have more to hate with it, in Bombadil.

I kinda wonder if they've gone to the longer hair because of all the backlash to the short hair lol.

The hobbits are looking for the promised land of Suzat? First, wtf. Second, Westron the language will not exist for a couple thousand years!

Why is we're-not-saying-he's-Gandalf the only character who has been naked so far? More than once!

Is a shot of orc baby the reason people wrote articles about how rop added morally complexity and greyness? Lol.

The Numenorean storyline is incoherent and terminally stupid. I realize that last season didn't leave them a great foundation: still terminally stupid. Why didn't the eagle talk? I do think Pharazon in particular has potential, but he's way underdeveloped.

What the hell is Theo's vest thing? They've moved into a (ruined) settlement and have running water, they no longer need to muck farm! Also I would like if the evil helmet haired kid never comes back. Cannot express how little I care about him or his and Arondir's stepdad angst. He and Isildur sure are monster magnets though.

Speaking of monsters, it felt like an rpg where the DM kept rolling for random monster encounters. In two episodes, we got spiders, Sarlacc creature, Eagles, Ent and Entwife, angry person-eating tree, barrowwights, I'm sure I'm missing something. Just randomly take shit and throw it in, doesn't matter if it fits, fans like references! It's pandering filler that doesn't advance the storyline.

Can we stop it with the PJ movie callbacks? I'm resigned to never getting away from his aesthetics, but all the recreations of different shots. I guess they took the Barrowwight look from Pirates of the Caribbean and not PJ?

We know she's an Entwife and not an Ent because she has flowers.

Lmao that is so much metal to make Rings and the mithril lump is not big. Is it homeopathic mithril? And for a show named after Rings, they sure don't spend a lot of time on them.

I have very little good to say about Celebrimbor and that storyline but it's a character and place I'm deeply invested in so I'll leave that be. On a couple neutral notes, Charles Edwards' acting is better than last season (where I was very not impressed) and I'm curious what they'll do with Elrond's antipathy towards the Three, given that he'll later end up bearing one.

The end credits song at the end of episode 4 was hilariously incongruent.

[aroacedindjarin]

thinking about boba fett and his sense of identity. how insane his situation is yet how much i relate to his unwavering determination to carve out a place in the galaxy for himself. not just in terms of a reputation and credits, but making himself a family. a home. trying again and again until he gets it right.

losing it all after his father was murdered. putting what little trust he had in various bounty hunters and expecting betrayal. preparing for it. as a literal child. becoming completely self-reliant, having no one but himself to pick himself up after he gets knocked down again and again. learning from every injury. every failure. getting to the very top of jabba’s empire and still getting knocked down into the sarlacc pit in a moment of bad luck. being left for dead. crawling his way back out. every moment of his life has been a fight. he never stops fighting. his whole life revolves around his ability to fight, and not stop fighting. even his years spent with the tusken tribe who became like family to him centred entirely around his ability to fight. it’s all he knows how to do. fight with his fists and his weapons but also the mental fight. the fight to learn from his enemies. to get beaten by them and still reach out a hand to them afterwards because it’s not personal. it’s never personal. nobody knows him without his father’s helmet he’s just one of a million identical faces.

imagine being a literal clone of your father. and your father is jango fett, the best bounty hunter in the galaxy, so insanely skilled they modelled a whole army from his genetics and chose the parts that they wanted. but you’re the only unaltered version of him. all the parts they didn’t want to keep; all the parts they wanted to change and “improve”. you’re all of him. the good and bad too. all of his legacy. you have to be everything he is, was and will be after he’s gone. you were made to be him. he’s raising you to be him. you don’t hate him for it, he loves you and you love him and it’s all you’ve ever known. and then he dies. who are you without him? who are you going to be?

boba fett. just a simple man making his way through the galaxy.

[thatonespriteobsessedbitch]

TBB S3 Episodes 4+5 thoughts

ngl I had a good bit spoiled for me bc I forgot to block the spoilers tag 🤦🏻‍♀️

A Different Approach

genuinely so happy that my man is back

his voice is a little weird tho ngl

yk when the ship is sparking like that on the inside, I don't think you should be flying it

I love batcher so much

they are 100% going to be going back for the other prisoners by the end of the season, I'm calling it

not sure if I feel bad for Nala se or not

fuck hemlock fr

yeah what's up with Omega's blood sample

creepy ass city

crosshair is seriously wondering what he's gotten himself into lmaoooo

his voice is back to normal thank god lol

so fucking funny watching this 10yo try and barter with the spaceport person

FIFTEEN THOUSAND?!?!?!

PER TICKET?!?!

omg crosshair is hilarious, he's missed all of Omega's normal hijinks and he's so fucking confused

is that Bossk???

def not bossk

not the troopers

oh fuck

crosshair is freaking out back there

crosshair called Meg's dad count: 1

this captain has me stressing

fuck you

love that crosshair was about to fight a man for her

fuck not batcher

oh just punch the kid already

dad crosshair is so hot oml

babes freeing all the animals will get you caught so fast

just shoot the captain already

that "finally" did things to me 😶‍🌫️

oh omega you badass

IS THAT A FUCKING SARLACC????

I mean that's one way to deal with the captain but damn

where are they???

WRECKER!!!!!

and hunter.

I really don't like hunter tbh

"never stopped searching" but you were so willing to leave crosshair

ugh the camera angles 😫

The Return

she has Lula!!!

omg pabu is so pretty

genuinely why does crosshair, a clone of a man played by a Māori actor, whiter than I am

OH SHUT THE FUCK UP HUNTER HE HAS TRAUMA, HES HEALING, LEAVE HIM THE FUCK ALONE

ECHO!!!

omg AZI you don't tell him his accuracy was 53% 🤣🤣🤣

does crosshair know tech is gone??

nvm he's gotta know with that reaction after echo mentions him

all of them look so pretty in the sunset

wrecker gave him his armour back 😭😭😭

HE BROUGHT THEM TO THE OUTPOST?!?!

the sound I made at crosshair in his old armour is ungodly

lay off him hunter

did batcher just find maydays body???

batchers efficient I'll give her that

not the helmets 😭😭😭😭

watch as those sensors actually did something other than warn about the raiders

I actually hate hunter

call him out babe

WHAT THE JESUS CHRIST WAS THAT

echo is eldest daughter-ing rn

BATCHER NO STAY INSIDE

can't believe the sensors actually worked

"and I don't even see any blood this time!" true sibling behavior

also the look on Omega's face as he says that 🤣🤣

I love the ice vulture symbolism with crosshair so much

[mandos-mind-trick]

BobaDin A/B/O Teaser

Read part 1 of the full fic here!!!

Summary: Boba and Din met before his fall into the Sarlacc pit, after Din was stranded during his heat with no suppressants. They parted ways after, both of them content to pretend it never happened, except that's not possible for Din. Boba tracks Din down, only to find he's in for a surprise when he meets the omega Mandalorian once more.

Pairing: Alpha Boba Fett x omega Din Djarin

Warnings: A/B/O universe, implied mpreg, Boba's kind of a softie in this part at least, very AU post Mando season 2, fluff and cuteness but also kind of sad, named child character cause plot.

A/N: I posted this a few months ago but took it down after it kinda flopped. There's been some renewed interest in it today so I've decided to repost it. There's a post on my page regarding the universe this exists in and some background. I was in a mindset when I wrote this and I am very sorry. Also kind of cuts off awkwardly at the end cause I just...stopped writing at that point.

@rosechi and those anons from earlier made me do it.

He holds her close, closer than he ever has. All the times he had left her, all the times he had been forced to leave on hunts was nothing compared to the last few days. She had been taken from him by someone who wouldn’t think twice about hurting her. He had been careless leaving two children alone like that. He had been thankful at first that she hadn’t just been killed. Perhaps Gideon had thought it would only hurt him more if he took both of them. 

He had done what he promised he’d do. He had rescued both of them, and he had gotten Grogu back to his kind. Still, there is an ache in his chest, a hole forming as Grogu gets further and further away. As much as he wants to curl into himself, let his instincts take over, he has a pup to support. A distressed pup who had just lost a member of her aliit. 

He sinks into one of the seats, holding her tight against his chest. He lets his helmet drop to the floor, uncaring if the other two in the ship come down and see him. He’s projecting his scent a bit, trying to calm his pup. It’s a bit dangerous with an alpha close by, but he can’t care. His pup needs him. 

“Shh.” He shushes her, pressing her face against his neck. 

“I m-miss him.” She cries, clinging to his cloak. 

“I know.” He says. “Remember what we talked about? Grogu had to go back to his kind. To his own aliit.” 

“But he’s our aliit.” 

“Only for a little while, remember? Until we found where he belonged.” 

She continues to cry and he can do nothing but let her. It pains him to scent her distress, but she needs to let it out. The best he could do is offer her comfort. 

She cries herself to sleep, still clinging to him. He leans his head back, trying to process the last couple days. It felt like a fever dream. He had been so scared, so desperate to get them back, to make sure they were safe. He’s exhausted. 

Boba climbs down the ladder a while later. Din had put his helmet back on, needing to feel secure. Needing to feel safe. The alpha sinks into the seat next to him, removing his helmet with a sigh. 

“How is she?” He asks, glancing sideways at the pair. 

“Upset.” Din answers. 

Boba hums. “Losing a family member is never easy.” He looks at Din. “How are you?” 

“I’ll manage.” He answers shortly. 

Boba stares at him for a long moment. “What will you do now?” 

Din sighs. He had been trying not to think about that. What is going to happen now? He’d finished what he had been tasked with. Did he go back to hunting? It would be hard with Vira. He didn’t want to start leaving her for long periods again. Not after spending so much time with her. His instincts screamed at the idea of being parted with her again. Did he try to track down a covert? Take his place among Mandalorians once more? “I don’t know.” He finally answers honestly. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.” 

“Join us.” Boba says. “We’re going back to Tatooine. I’m going to take over Jabba’s palace, become Daimyo. Come with us. Let me spend some time with the pup I didn’t know existed.” 

Right. This was his pup as well. He’s not sure how he could forget. She looked just like him. Perhaps because it was a bit unreal still.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Boba asks after a moment of silence.

“I tried looking for you after she was born. Everyone I found said you were dead.” 

Boba leans back in his seat once again. “I almost was. I never thought...” He shakes his head. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have-” 

“It’s alright. I’m not sure I would have made it had you not been there.” Din adjusts his hold on Vira, easing her into a more comfortable position. “I wouldn’t trade her for anything.” 

Boba stares at her, able to see her face from the new position. A small smirk forms on his face, a quiet chuckle leaving him. “Those Fett genes are strong.” 

Din can’t help but smile under his helmet. “There’s no doubting it.” 

Boba smiles. “I’m serious.” He lets his eyes flit to Din’s helmet. “Come with us. Let me take care of you. Both of you.” 

Din leans his head back against the seat. Boba’s words strike something deep in him, all his repressed instincts flooding to the surface. He had been on his own for so long. Forcing himself on suppressants, holding every alpha he came across at arm’s length. He did it for himself, and he did it for Vira. 

Was this his chance to take a load off his shoulders? To share in carrying that weight of his instincts and his pup? Fett had proven himself loyal and trustworthy over and over again. Vira was his pup. He could take her if he wanted, and force them apart. Din knows he won’t. Boba knows how much family means to Mandalorians. Boba was offering them a place of belonging, a home. He would care for his pup, and Din as the bearer of his pup. 

Din doesn’t realize he’s crying, quiet gasps crackling through his modulator. Boba is crouched beside him, hand on the back of his neck. It’s not a cruel touch, it’s not a scruff like some alphas would do to control an omega. It’s comforting. Grounding. 

“Let me help you.” He says softly, thumb stroking the column of his throat. The touch is jarring, after so long without any touch at all. 

“I owe you so much already.” Din gasps out, the tears not stopping. 

“You don’t owe me anything.” Boba says. “I would have helped you even if she wasn’t my pup. If you think you need to repay me, do it by coming with us.” 

Din closes his eyes, letting himself just feel. He hadn’t been this close to an alpha in six years. He never thought he’d see Boba again, much less be working with him. He knows the restraint it must have taken for Boba not to march onto the cruiser and take out Moff Gideon himself to get his pup back. The pup he hadn’t known existed until just a couple days ago. He knew Din was the one who had to do it, was the one who had to protect his aliit. 

Boba could be aliit too. 

It would be so easy to let him in, to give over to instinct. He had been carrying the weight for so long. How nice it would be to let go for once. 

*****

He wakes in a bunk. For a moment he forgets where he is, what had happened. He’s back on the Crest, tucked into his bunk, the place that had been his home for years. But the Crest was destroyed. He had been on Boba’s ship, heading wherever after he had rescued his ade. 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, or even moving to the bunk. Boba’s scent floats around him, muted a bit by his helmet. He resists the urge to take off his helmet, bury himself in the scent. Instead he turns on his side, the blanket that had been tossed over him falling to the floor. Something feels off as he lays there in the silence. 

Vira. 

He sits up so fast his helmet hits the top bunk, but he ignores the vibrations rattling his head. He hits the button on the wall, light flooding the small space as he steps out, eyes searching the ship for his pup. 

He doesn’t have to look long, finding Fennec standing in front of one of the viewports holding her. She’s staring out at the blue of hyperspace, eyes open wide and mouth agape. Din breathes a quiet sigh of relief, approaching the beta and his pup. 

Vira turns to him, a big smile on her face. “Look, buir!” She points out the viewport. 

He turns to look, eyes trailing over the giant creatures. “Purgil.” He says. 

She stares at them in awe, Fennec eyeing him. “Don’t work yourself up.” She says. “She was getting squirmy. You need the rest.” 

“I didn’t take you for the nurturing type.” He says. 

The beta gives him a look. “I’m not.” But the way she looks down at Vira says otherwise. 

“Will you be okay for a few more minutes?” He asks. 

“I suppose.” Fennec says, motioning for him to go ahead. 

Din climbs up the ladder to the cockpit, quietly sinking into the passenger seat. He stares out at the blue of hyperspace for a moment, watching it flash by. 

“We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace near Tatooine shortly.” Boba says, his gaze facing forward as well. 

“If I come with you, what exactly do you expect?” Din asks, trying to put his thoughts into words. He feels vulnerable in the presence of the alpha, even though Fett was nothing but relaxed. 

“I’ll need your help.” Boba says honestly. “Taking Jabba’s seat will be easy. Getting Mos Espa to agree will be the hardest. There will be a lot of pushback, I expect, not just from the families. The Hutts will have their own opinions. I need muscle, someone to back me up.” 

“It sounds dangerous.” Din muses. 

“It will be, at least at first.” Boba agrees. “I wouldn’t blame you for saying no.” 

“And Vira? I can’t afford to put her in more danger.” 

Boba turns to face him, and though Din can’t see the look on his face, he can feel the change in the alpha. “I may not know her, but I promise I will give my life to protect her.” 

“And me?” Din says quietly, his brain starting to buzz under the intensity of the alpha. “What do you expect from me?” 

“Nothing.” Boba says, turning back around. “It would be your decision. If you want suppressants, I’ll be sure we have extra. You’re always welcome at my side, even if it’s nothing more than as an ally.” 

******

Fett had been right. Taking Jabba’s palace had been easy. Despite Din’s insistence, Boba had forced him to stay on the ship with Vira as he and Fennec went in and cleaned house. Din is quietly grateful for the moment of rest. He feels weary, a type of weary he hasn’t felt in a long time. He could have forced himself to do it, but he can feel the exhaustion deep in his bones as he sits on the floor of the ship. 

It’s the same weary he had felt when he had been stuck without his suppressants. The same weary he’d felt after he’d had Vira. The same weary he’d struggled with after he decided to leave her in the care of the covert and returned to bounty hunting. 

He needs an alpha. 

His omega yearns for an alpha. 

He has an alpha. 

Boba had been forward in his implications. He would take that position, if Din wanted it. It wasn’t that Din didn’t trust Boba. He owed a lot to the alpha. Boba had been the one that found him stranded without suppressants, half dead after being thrown into his first heat in years. Boba had cared for him, fought against every instinct telling him to sink his teeth into Din’s shoulder, and got him on a ship back to civilization. 

He had also, inadvertently, given Din a pup. 

Vira had been born not long after the fall of the Empire. Din had waited a year and a half before he began his search, traveling all the places the bounty hunter frequented. He heard the same thing over and over, that Boba was dead. Fell into a sarlacc pit on the very planet they were on currently. Din had given up his search not long after he started. 

He knew he’d likely raise Vira by himself. If he had found Boba, he’s not sure what the bounty hunter’s reaction would have been. He could have taken Vira for himself, raised his pup as he had the right to do. Din had wrestled with that idea, but had ultimately decided to seek out the alpha, if nothing more than to just tell him he has a pup. He deserved to know. It was why he didn’t hide the truth from him on Tython. 

He could have lied. He could have easily claimed Vira as someone else’s. 

No, he couldn’t have, he thinks as he stares at the pup seated on the floor between his legs, pushing Grogu’s ball back and forth. He runs a hand over the unruly, thick curls that were messily pulled back into a bun. She looks up at him with those deep, dark eyes. She’s practically a carbon copy of Boba. 

A clone. 

She grins up at him, cheeks dimpling. That was his, or at least he thinks so. He’s never actually seen Boba smile. 

Despite the grin, she looks tired. He knows she has to be, just looking at her. Fennec had been right, calling her squirmy. She’d always been wild, always been on the move. He’d constantly heard it when he returned to the covert. She’s smart, but she can’t sit still. 

Normally she would have been all over the ship, exploring, getting into things. A chord of fear runs through him for a moment, something he hadn’t thought of in the whirlwind since they’d been taken. He knew the Empire needed Grogu for some sort of experiment they were doing. 

What if they did something to her? 

There wasn’t anything they could possibly need from her. Unless they tested something on her? He wouldn’t put it past Gideon to try and make him pay for taking Grogu not once, but twice. 

He can’t fight it, the building anxiety deep in his stomach. He feels like he’s spiraling out of control, like a ship about to crash. Vira’s smile falls as she senses the distress welling in her bearer. 

Din jumps as a hand lands on his shoulder. His fists close around the fabric of his pants, trying to steady himself. Boba is kneeling next to him, a hand on his shoulder. 

“Easy.” Boba soothes him, gently squeezing his shoulder. “What’s got you all worked up?” 

“What...what if Gideon did something to her?” He asks, looking down at Vira who is watching them cautiously. 

“We can’t know for sure that he didn’t.” Boba says, turning to look at Vira. “How do you feel, ad’ika?” 

She shrugs. “Okay. Sleepy.” She rubs her eyes. 

“See,” Boba says, helping him stand. “She’s fine. You need rest. Both of you do.” 

Din leans down, lifting Vira into his arms. Boba was probably right. They couldn’t know if Gideon did something to her. If it was anything of consequence, they’d have to wait and see if anything happens. He doesn’t want anything to happen. The thought of something happening to her because of his own recklessness has his stomach churning. He feels like he could be sick. 

“Come on.” Boba leads him forward with a hand on his back. “We’ve cleared out the upper rooms. Most of it was empty. Seems like most of them fled when Jabba died. Fortuna managed to keep a skeleton crew. We’ve cleared out most of them.” 

“I should be helping.” Din says, trying to distract himself from the panic building within him. 

“You can help by resting.” Boba says, leading him up the steps. “Like I said, this is the easy part. I need you at your best when the real fight begins.” 

**********

Despite his exhaustion, Din lays awake in bed. The sheets are clean, having been brought up by a droid, along with a clean change of clothes for Vira. She had fussed through a bath and dinner before Din let her sleep. The new clothes were a bit big, but they worked. He’d need to pick up some supplies soon. Everything he’d owned had been destroyed. 

Din had taken a bath himself after Vira finally fell asleep. He was used to going long periods without being properly cleaned, but it felt nice to wash off the last few days. The worry still lingered, but in a way he felt like he could force it all down, forget the horrors that had gone through his mind. 

His helmet sits on the ground behind him. He hadn’t been able to relax enough to take all his armor off. What if they had missed something? He can’t take that risk. Not right now. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to put the helmet back on. Not yet. 

He scoots closer to Vira, letting the soft scent of pup invade his senses. He hadn’t done it often, not since he left her with the covert. He presses his nose into her hair, letting the gentle scent flow through him. It’s the best scent in the world, or at least he thinks so. The scent of a pup before they begin developing traits, before they present. So soothing it could loosen even the most steeled beta. 

The scent calms the raging storm inside him. There’s nothing off about it, no change to it. It’s purely her, just as he remembered it being.

[redbean-nom]

honestly echo is probably going to die heroically in the next two episodes. he's not with rex, gregor, and wolffe in rebels, he's not with the greater rebellion, and Echo Base exists.

what i'm more curious about is when cody gets his own heroic sacrifice. he's not with rex and he's not with obi wan, so unless he also fell in a sarlacc or got carbonited, he's definitely dead.

anyways, the last episode's title is The Cavalry Has Arrived. and who could be a more fitting "cavalry" than Cody?

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

i dunno if it'll be a big task for you, but will we ever get a daddy daimyo nsfw alphabet?

I cribbed this alphabet template from @the-coldest-goodbye

I’ve never actually written one of these before but I do love an easy-breezy prompt so let’s gooooo!

SMUT UNDER THE CUT

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

You’re a brat. He’s a brat tamer. In fact he’s THE brat tamer. Boba Fett knows that brat taming is a fine art and that good aftercare is essential. The way he sees it, best practice is to punish behavior he wants to extinguish and reward behavior he wants you to repeat. And his rewards are always doled out in equal or greater measure to his punishments. He knows that you need to be held closely, praised in a low, soothing voice, and fed especially rich and delicious foods. If called for, there will be a bath, a message with warm scented oils, or medicated salve.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his broad chest and muscular forearms because you seem especially fond of resting your head on his chest and in his arms after sex.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - Boba Fett is as ass and thighs man. The thicker, the better. He likes a big round booty and thick jiggly thighs. He likes dimpled, supple flesh on a generally meaty girl.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves coming inside of you. He’s quite possessive and knowing that you’re walking around with his cum dripping from between your thighs gives him a sense of ownership.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

If you wanted to pursue a romantic or sexual dynamic with Fennec, he would not hesitate to say yes. His relationship with Fennec is platonic, but rooted in a deep sense of trust and understanding. He knows that Fennec would guard your body, mind, and heart. She is the only person with whom he would ever consider sharing you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh he knows. He knows. Boba Fett has been around the Galaxy a time or two and felt the warmth of many beds. He’s grateful that he has so much experience, all the better to pleasure you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It’s a toss up between mating press and having you bent over. On the one hand, he loves being so close to you and watching your face as he pounds you senseless. On the other, he does love himself some backshots.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

There are moments between the two of you that elicit a chuckle from him - sex is sometimes unintentionally funny. He believes that above all, it’s meant to be enjoyed. He does take your pleasure very seriously, but the act itself is a time to be loose and relaxed and vulnerable with each other.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The sarlacc did what sarlaccs are gonna do - digest their prey. Not much of his body hair remains, and what little does is rather fine and downy from integumentary damage. He is unselfconscious about the state of his body hair and enjoys you in whatever state you feel most confident.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

During sex, Boba Fett is at his most vulnerable physically and emotionally. He feels completely at your mercy, especially when he’s inside of you and allowing himself to enjoy the experience of you and your body.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Now that he has you, he feels no need. Your body feels so much more satisfying than his own hand, and you’re so willing when it comes to sex. Much of the time you’re the one who initiates intimate encounters, and in that regard he likes letting you take the lead.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He genuinely enjoys brat taming because he knows that your wily behavior is just a defense mechanism and that a good hard spanking, some fucking, and some snuggles have a therapeutic affect. He also gets a great deal of satisfaction from restraining you, especially when you’re acting out or being sassy. Restraint is a form of reassurance and he knows that you need reassurance from time to time.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers the safety of his private chambers, but foreplay can take place anywhere - the throne room, the kitchen, the hangar, his ship…

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Any time you seek him out for comfort or affection. Again, he LOVES taming a brat - but when you come to him soft and gooey and needy, he melts.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won’t take you past your limits in terms of pain tolerance. Boba Fett, of all people, knows that pain has a cathartic power, but too much pain is physically and emotionally injurious.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves both and he’s quite good at giving. He does strongly prefer to finish inside of you, so oral for him is just a precursor for penetrative sex.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes to let you set the pace unless you’ve earned a punishment. In that case, you’ll have only snapping hips and hard, deep thrusts to look forward to.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’ll take a quickie, but he’s not especially partial to quickies. He likes to make sure you’re adequately prepared to take him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s taken enough risks in his time. With you, everything is calculated. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s a fit man who is canonically 41 years old in TBOBF. He can go 2-3 rounds easily but if it’s been a long day, he prefers to keep it to one round.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns a few tools specific to disciplining you - a crop, restraints, ropes - but otherwise he has all the tools he needs on him at all times.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Boba is not unfair, but he does dole out punishment (including orgasm denial) as necessary to teach you to mind your manners.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He talks a lot, often without realizing it, in Basic and Mando’a. It’s more of a stream of consciousness when he’s inside of you - lots of praise, typically. His voice is low and throaty during sex.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He has a long list of pet names for you - Princess, Little One, Brat, Porglette, Mesh’la, An’edee n’edeemi (when you’re being a brat)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s THICC but not especially long. Uncut with prominent veins. A respectable 6” when hard, but the thickness of him makes him a challenge.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Bob Fett wants honestly and frankness. He doesn’t mind if you’re shy, but you should always be up front with him. It makes both of your lives easier.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He appreciates a solid 8 hours of sleep, preferably with you in his arms. He has too much to do for poor sleep habits. He wants to stay sharp and that means getting plenty of rest, with sex being the ideal end of a long day.

[thecoffeelorian]

Chapter Title:  The Challenge

Word Count:  1,550 words

Brief Description: Captain Howzer x Female Reader, Captain Howzer x Chandrilan Reader (Singular Love Interest)

Synopsis:  When your father declares there will be no marriages for your younger sister until you yourself are wedded first, you assume that’s his way of keeping her single forever.  Little do you know, you just might be about to go on the first real adventure of your life…and, more curiously, you might not be going alone.  (Slightly inspired by W. Shakespeare’s “Taming of the Shrew” with just a hint of "10 Things I Hate About You" for extra funsies.)

AO3: Link Here

Additional Notes: ...Yes, I'm reposting this because I got so far behind the first time around, I decided to just plain start over so that I could look at this story with fresh eyes. Hope it's not too late for me. Also, my profound thanks for helping me get to 200 followers as of this morning. :D

The No-Pressure Tag List: @trixie2023 @nerfpuncher @burningfieldof-clover @angrypaperearthquake-tbbb-main and anybody else still reading my stuff.

They’re at it again. The same two young men who have been coming here for the past three rotations, and all because they want nothing more than a moment alone with your baby sister, if not she also with one of them.  That’s the vibe you get as you slip past them and their entreaties, through the long corridor, and up the somewhat longer staircase leading to the upper floor of your home for some much-needed privacy.  Thankfully, they’ve decided to ignore your presence so far, because otherwise, you would be stuck down there having to deal with their whining and their begging about Briana.

Not that they’re really all that interested in “Brainy Bri” in the first place, but of course, that’s the last thing on your mind now. You’ve got bigger plans to deal with, or so you keep telling yourself before you get spotted by someone else within.  In fact, at twenty years of age, you thought you might have finally found your way off of a planet that holds no more warmth for you.  

Your mother had finally left this world after three months in an end-of-life facility, but only close behind five years of dealing with the terminal illness that came with creating and testing ion cannons. Sometimes you can still see her face in your memory from time to time, provided you close your eyes and concentrate first.  Sometimes you also fear becoming just like her if you end up staying on this planet rather than leaving.  In any case, though, if you were to suddenly disappear, she wouldn’t be around to try and convince you to return.

Your father, subsequently, had ceased to be able to look you in the face, no doubt because you reminded him of the woman he had so recently lost, as well as the responsibilities that came with being a widower.  The least of which, seemingly, had been paying off a few key debts in order to guarantee none of you would have to beg for your next meal…or so he told you.  He would probably not pay your disappearance much attention, either, all thanks to his current…‘projects’.

And as for your younger sister, she certainly could have cared less about you even if a Sarlacc swallowed you tomorrow.  Thanks to the usual tenets of your shared Chalindran culture, Briana’s upbringing and quiet demeanor has all but handed her a gleaming marriage proposal on a silver serving tray.  Your mother’s funeral was the very first place you had spotted her future suitors, the first being the only son of an Admiral; the second, the firstborn son of a Senator from the Mid Rim.  Either one would be more than acceptable in the girl’s eyes as well as Father’s, for not only had she grown past the minimum age of fifteen cycles, she was also just so eager to please whatever young fellow crossed her path.

(How disgusting.)

She was quite the opposite of you, perhaps, considering you had begun turning away from your lone surviving parent and eligible bachelors in general at almost the exact same time, as well as letting them know exactly what was on your mind the moment they began pushing for a 'meeting’. Maybe even a little too strongly at times, like…the time a few of your old crystal figurines had just happened to be let loose against your bedroom wall after that young doctor from Coruscant tried to offer you a drink at lunch.

(At least one Chandrilan doctor had thought themselves smart enough to eradicate your mother’s cancer.  Turns out, the cancer begged to differ.)

The second time, the silk collector from Naboo had found himself introduced to your carved wooden bench the moment he had offered to buy your late mother’s gowns at half the price she had originally paid for them.  Needless to say, he ended up with nothing in either sense.

(Probably a good thing, considering she had promised some of them to you before she’d gone.)

The third time, however, had been the one that got every Chandrilan within hearing range looking at you sideways from that rotation forward, if not also leaving you a wide berth whenever you left the safety of your house and surrounding green.  That had been the same day your father let it slip that he’d applied you to the University of Coruscant without your knowledge or, for that matter, your consent.  That had also been the same day that your grief and resentment of the past few months finally bubbled out of you, leading you to reveal not only your own applications to the universities of Naboo, Alderaan, and Pantora in that precise order, but also the long-awaited acceptance letter from Naboo with the Queen’s own stamp of approval attached.  

And so, after that great argument in which you accused your father of keeping you on too tight a leash, you yourself were accused of the worst ingratitude ever befitting a daughter, and half of your best crystal service ended up shattered upon the ground…you had spent the following three weeks planning your escape.

This will be the same escape where, as long as you gather up all the credits left over from your weekly allowances and sneak out unnoticed, you’ll eventually make it out of Chandrila’s space ports and get yourself on your way to Theed.

Lucky for you, you’ve already made a skill out of sneaking off the grounds, so one more trip beyond your father’s fences should be the easiest thing ever.

This is what brings you tiptoeing back down the stairs just as the boys are arguing with Father himself, no doubt ready to interrogate him on just why he’s decided to keep Briana on the same short leash as you are.  Heh.  The poor little lost puppies, begging for a treat from their master. Their sad eyes certainly match those of hungry baby mastiffs, all right,  or so you think as you draw nearer to the gate.

It’s here that Father decides to liven up the competition between these two, or so it sounds to you as you slip past the three of them.

“…Yes, gentlemen, I do insist.  There will be no meetings, betrothals, or anything of the sort with Briana until a husband is found for Y/N!”

A husband.  Ha. Small chance of that happening, if not at all, you think, barely registering the groans and protests of the younger boys in the distance.  You’ve managed to scare most of your prospects off with your brilliant disposition alone, give or take a few damaged articles of furniture.  Not that you’re complaining, of course.  If anything, it just makes leaving home a lot easier.

“So, since both of you can’t get engaged to Briana, perhaps one of you would be willing to introduce yourself to Y/N instead…?”

That’s not going to happen any time soon, either, if the blatant denials you hear right before you slip outside tell you anything.  

Apparently, at least one of them has already claimed that you’re far too dangerous to even say hello to, let alone attempt to flirt with or even court.  That’s perfectly fine with you, though, because neither one of them ever showed enough kriffing intellect to pique your interest, let alone any noticeable kindness, or courage, or willingness to try and deal with the social ills evident in your part of the galaxy.  And even if they did, it would take a lot more than a pretty face, a large bank account, and just the right amount of moral teachings to convince you to give any of them a second look.  

So, as you lift the hood of your poncho into place and throw the strap of your traveling bag over one shoulder, you can’t help but observe that any quick fix your father hoped to arrange today will evaporate the moment he, Briana, or either one of those suitors end up finding you missing…but only if they catch you first.

Which, of course, you don’t plan on allowing to happen.  

No, you’ve planned everything down to the last detail, beginning with your silent ascent into your room to gather up your supplies and then ending the moment you make use of the nearest garren tree to climb successfully over the fence, finally landing quietly upon the ground outside. Neither your family nor any of your household staff have suspected a thing, and even if one of them managed to catch a glimpse of you, you’ve already sworn them to secrecy from your father and sister alike.

This brings a smug grin to your face as you begin your walk down to the space port, your credits and passport safe inside your bag as you go along.  He’s not going to decide your future any more, and she can flirt with her suitors as much as she wants without flaunting it in your face.  

You, on the other hand, will be enjoying your first breath of Naboo air long before they ever manage to locate you, and probably enjoying the grand tour of the university campus besides.

Or, at least…that’s the last thought on your mind, right before a pair of dark, probing eyes suddenly find their way to yours.

[ryehouses]

Did the other Skiratas ever talk to Boba?

just for you, hell yeah they did!

set post-ast in some nebulous time after the sarlacc pit! cw for the usual re: clones and also re: boba and also re: clones and boba.

in which there are feelings that are discussed instead of stabbed, which is an improvement over most fett family reunions. 

Alright, thought Ordo Skirata, halfway up the side of a tower, clinging to a smooth sandstone wall and hoping that Prudii’s distraction out in the sands had drawn most of the palace guards and the other Mandalorians and hopefully the mand’alor himself off to investigate, I might be too old for this. 

That wasn’t the sort of thing that Ordo would ever admit out loud, of course, because the thought of handing over leadership of the clan to any one of a dozen or so Skirata children made Ordo itch beneath his armor, but he could admit it to himself inside the quiet of his own buc’ye. 

Damn the kaminiise anyway, he thought. Forty-six years in the galaxy looked and felt like sixty or seventy, to Ordo. Seventy was too old to be climbing up towards in the dead of night and organizing raids against sovereign – or sort of sovereign, because Ordo, Mereel and Jaing hadn’t actually stuck around after that business with the sarlacc to figure out what the new ruling structure of Mandalore was going to be – territories. 

Ah, well. Regrets were for the dead and Ordo wasn’t dead yet, no matter what his protesting knees or his aching shoulder said, and he was here to do a job. Only the job mattered right now. 

Why Ordo’s chosen to assign himself the task of climbing up a heavily-guarded tower in the middle of nowhere on karking Tatooine, of all places, was still somewhat of a mystery to Ordo, but he’d already gone to the trouble of starting. The only thing to do was see it through. 

Boba Fett had kitted his palace out like a real morut. Ordo hadn’t even been able to approach from the air; Fett had some kind of finely-tuned motion sensor at the crown of his palace, and even a bird flying past would trigger the palace’s security sensors. 

Ordo hoped that coming from the ground would at least gain him entry into the palace. Fett could hardly expect anyone to climb up two or three hundred feet of wind-worn desert sandstorm and so far no one’d picked Ordo off f the wall, but he still had a good sixty feet of climbing left. 

Far out in the desert, there was another distant boom. Night reigned over Tatooine. The moons were dark. Ordo’d swapped his usual beskar’gam for Vau’s old blacks, counting on the darkness to further hide him. 

Prudii better not overdo it, he thought. I needed the mand’alor out of the palace, not a declaration of war.

After the Mandalorian summit – after the little dust-up with the Hutts here on Tatooine, too, which had admittedly been a bit of fun for Ordo and his brothers – Clan Skirata had retreated carefully back to their own territory. Mereel’d wanted to come to the summit just to see what the others were doing, but Ordo had no intention of wading back into Mandalorian politics. He’d watched Mandalore tear itself to pieces once already. 

But as the days had turned into weeks and the weeks into months, something about the whole experience – the summit, the battle, Boba karking Fett of all people allying himself with Mandalorians, when he was infamous among the clones for rejecting any and all attempts at burcyan – had stayed with Ordo like an itch beneath his armor or a loose thread on his kama, and the itch had become curiosity and the curiosity had become, well. 

This, thought Ordo. 

There was no reason to try to talk with Boba Fett. Ordo honestly couldn’t say if he’d ever exchanged more than a word or two with him, back in the days of Kamino. Fett didn’t care about the tatug’ad. He never had. 

Ordo had never cared much for any clone outside of his close circle of brothers himself, and ten years ago if Ordo’d been invited to a Mandalorian summit and found himself looking at the Prime’s chosen son, Ordo would have turned around and slipped away, content to keep his clan and their business out of Fett’s. 

But something Mereel had said to Ordo, before they’d gone to Krownest, stuck with him. 

“The last time you saw him, he was ten,” Mereel had said. “Remember how awful your kids were at ten?” 

Boba Fett had been an unpleasant boy, on Kamino. A perfect copy of Jango Fett, complete with the Prime’s sour temper. But he had been ten. 

And we left him behind, thought Ordo, craning his neck up to look at his destination. He was nearly there; Fett’s rooms were open on all sides to the wind and the sky, protected when he needed them protected by blast doors and motion sensors. Fett, however, clearly hadn’t been expecting someone to be jare’la enough to try climbing up the spire. 

ARC training was good for something. 

The itch that Ordo felt under his armor – that he’d felt for the first time on Krownest, watching Fett stride across the ice, surrounded on all sides by enemies – was guilt, Ordo thought. Kal’buir had taught his boys to look out for their own. Ordo had always done his best to look out for his brothers, for Jaing and Kom’rk and Mereel and A’den, for Prudii and Fi and the other clones who’d left the GAR, made their way to Mandalore, to freedom. But he hadn’t looked after Fett. 

He’s a man now, Ordo thought. Has been as long as we have. He doesn’t need us to look after him. Has never needed us to look after him. 

Fett hadn’t liked admitting that he was literally one of millions, on Kamino. He’d thought the fact that the Prime had chosen him meant that he’d been better than all of the other clones.  

But he was alone. No clone – not even an exact clone of Jango Fett himself – had been made to be alone. 

That guilt had grown and grown. Now Ordo was here, hooking his fingers around the edge of the ledge that circled Fett’s rooms at the top of the tower, and his brothers were off drawing Mandalorians away so that Ordo could talk with Fett. 

It is my duty to offer him aid, if he needs it, thought Ordo. Only a few on Krownest stood for him. 

Several members of Death Watch had attended the summit on Krownest. Many kyr’tsad survivors had done their best to stamp out any trace of the True Mandalorians Fett was no True Mandalorian, but he’d had his share of enemies there on the lake. 

Mereel and I went over this, he thought. One conversation. One offer of aid. Then I’m gone, and I can set any guilt I have aside. 

Ordo got a decent grip on the ledge and hauled himself upright, his shoulders complaining. He came up off of the wall in a crouch and scanned the room. Fett’s rooms were wide and spacious, cooled by night air. He had only a little furniture. A long table strewn with datapads, a few chairs, a bed. Ordo straightened and took a step into the room. He was pleased that the motion sensors hadn’t been triggered. He pulled his helmet off and tucked it under an arm, scanning the shadows for Fett. 

He didn’t have to look very hard. Ordo took another step into the room and Boba Fett himself stepped out of the shadows, kitted in full armor but for his helmet, and leveled a weapon at Ordo. 

“Don't move. Who are – ah,” growled Fett, pausing when he caught sight of Ordo’s face. Fett had aged naturally. He was Ordo’s age, maybe a few years younger, but he hadn’t grown twenty years in the space of ten, thirty years in the space of fifteen.. Ordo’s hair had gone grey since they had all been children on Kamino, his face creased with age. Most looked at him now and didn’t see a clone. 

Fett did. His eyes widened. Ordo watched him with interest. 

He doesn’t see me as an enemy, then, he thought. That was – a surprise. Ordo’d watched Fett, at that summit. Fett was hostile on a good day. 

But he didn’t rush in for an attack. Fett was armored, everything but his helmet snapped into place, and he held a dark, dangerous-looking staff in one hand. His face could have been carved from stone. But he didn’t lunge. 

Maybe time has mellowed him as it has the rest of us, Ordo thought. I can work with that.

He raised his hands to show Fett that they were empty and said, “Boba Fett. I’m not here to start a war.”

“You’re a Skirata,” Fett said, studying Ordo. The hostility in his eyes hadn't lessened. “I thought you’d died off, by now.” He didn’t lower his weapon. 

Ordo inclined his head, ignoring the insult. “I am,” he said. “I'm Ordo." He didn't bother with his clan name, since Fett knew it already.

Fett’s lip curled. “A Null.” 

Ordo waved a hand. The motion made Fett twitch, his fingers curling more tightly around his staff. One end of the staff was shaped like a club and the other ended in a fearsome spike. 

“None of that matters any more,” Ordo said. Null, ARC, commando, pilot; the war was over. The war had been over. 

Fett snorted. “It always matters,” he said. “What do you want, Skirata? The noise in the desert is your doing, I assume.” 

“It is,” Ordo said. When Fett’s jaw tightened, Ordo added, in a tone he’d perfected around the dinner table in the karyai of Kyrmorut instead of on the battlefield. “No one’s going to get hurt. It’s a distraction, nothing more. You have my word.” He'd made Prudii and Jaing swear not to kill anyone. Somehow Mandalore had begun to revive itself without any blood feuds. Clan Skirata didn't need to start the first one.  

“A distraction,” Fett rumbled. He was shorter than Ordo’d expected him to be. All of Ordo’s brothers were precisely six feet tall, grown by Kaminoan hands and Kaminoan nutrient bars, but Fett was several inches smaller.

Not enough food to go around as a boy, Ordo thought. Like Kal’buir. 

Another sensation itched underneath Ordo’s armor, prickling like the first, like the sensation that had driven Ordo out of his comfortable home, away from his family. Ordo knew that it was guilt. 

Fett looked strong, though. He was solid and his stance was rooted, feet spread apart like the base of a mountain. 

“If you’re here to speak with the mand’alor, he’s not here,” Fett growled. “He’s out dealing with your distraction. He takes Mandalorians at the High House. No Mandalorians come here."

That was a blatant lie. Ordo chose to ignore it.

“I know where he is,” Ordo said. That had been the point. Ordo had no business with Din Djarin, the Mandalore; his business was with Fett alone. “I’m not here for him.” 

Fett narrowed his eyes. Ordo kept ten or twelve feet between them, ready to move if Fett moved first. “You have no business with me either,” he said. 

“I do,” Ordo disagreed. Fett’s face was set into a hard plane of dislike. Distrust. 

“You don’t,” Fett said, his voice a furious rumble. “We’ve never had business between us.”

Ordo heard the unspoken accusation. You never wanted anything to do with me, Fett was saying. And I want kark-all to do with you. 

Ordo hadn’t climbed three hundred feet of tower to be dismissed so easily, though. He shrugged. “We’re kin,” he said. 

“We are not.” 

“Allies, the,” Ordo said. That drew another snort from Fett. “You are the mand’alor’s ally, aren’t you?” Ordo said. “My clan has no fight to pick with him.”

“Just me, then,” Fett said. 

Ordo fell silent again, studying Fett intently. Fett was ready for a fight. His face was perfectly still, smooth as granite. 

“Just you,” Ordo finally agreed. “Though I didn’t come here to fight.” 

“What did you come here for, then?” Fett demanded, every bit as impatient as the Prime. As the Nulls, who’d had too much of him. “Think quickly, Skirata, before I decide to put this – ” he broke off to lift his staff higher, so that Ordo could see its wicked spike “ – to good use.” 

Ordo sighed. To the point, then. 

“Clan Skirata has – concerns,” he said. “We thought we’d offer our aid to a brother, if he needed it. Standing in the middle of joha’kaan’s a dangerous place for any Mandalorian. For a Mandalorian alone.” 

“You’re – concerned,” Fett said flatly. He raised his staff like he was thinking about lobbing it at Ordo’s head. 

Mereel should be the one doing this, Ordo thought. He’s better at diplomacy than me. 

Wary, Ordo nodded. 

“About me,” Fett clarified. When he said it, it did sound absurd. Fett had never been treated as a clone, not on Kamino. He’d grown up naturally. Hadn’t been flash-trained or poked and prodded by the Kaminoans. Hadn’t spilled blood in the Clone Wars. Fett was no more Ordo’s brother than the mand’alor was. 

But he was alone, said a voice in Ordo’s head that sounded like his father. You were safe on Mandalore, surrounded by your clan, and Boba Fett was alone for thirty years.  

Guilt sharpened. 

“...Yeah,” Ordo said. He didn’t know how to explain it to Fett, not properly. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. Discomfort was a novel feeling. Ordo didn’t much care for it.  

“Why,” said Fett, in a tone that suggested to Ordo that Ordo ought to have either a satisfactory answer or an exit plan to get away from that staff. 

Ordo looked at the man who could have been his brother and said nothing for a moment. Boba Fett and Ordo Skirata weren’t much alike. They shared a genetic code and little else. Not a life, not a war, not even a face, really, beyond the shape of Fett’s nose, the line of Ordo’s jaw. If Ordo spoke, he wasn’t sure that he’d be understood. 

So Ordo did what Kal’buir would have done, and told the truth. 

“None of us were made to be alone,” Ordo said. “Not even you.” 

Fett’s expression didn’t change. “That didn’t seem to concern you thirty years ago,” he observed, still in that same flat, disinterested voice. “And it shouldn’t concern you now.” 

“Maybe not,” Ordo agreed. Fett was hardly a lost little clone these days, barely more than a tubie, cheeks round with baby fat. He’d survived, same as the rest of them. Thrived, even; none of Ordo’s brothers could call themselves kings. “But still. We thought we’d check, when we heard that Death Watch was involved.” There were plenty among the mando’ade who would happily kill Fett to avenge kin slain by Jaster Mereel or Jango Fett. And now that the mand’alor was living here on Tatooine, those old kyr’stad warriors might be tempted to seize the opportunity and kill Fett while the mand’alor’s back was turned. 

While the mand’alor is elsewhere, Ordo thought. Drawn away by another enemy. 

“There is no Death Watch,” said Fett, and for the first time since Ordo’d heaved himself up over the lip of Fett’s window, Fett’s hard stone expression eased. It didn’t soften, because bedrock, choruk be te vheh, couldn’t soften, had no softness in its nature, but now instead of looking at a sheer cliff Ordo was looking at enough of a slope to stand on. 

Or I’m the one who’s getting soft, he thought wryly. Boba Fett might be the stone of the earth, but Ordo had always been something else.

“Not here, anyway,” Fett said. 

“No?” Ordo said. He hadn’t apologized. Fett wouldn’t want him to, Ordo didn’t think. Fett hadn’t been Ordo’s responsibility, and even if Ordo – or, more likely, Kal’buir, who had never managed to walk away from a child who had needed his help or his care – had thought to find Fett in those first chaotic days of the war, Fett wouldn’t have stayed with the Nulls. He had too much of the Prime in him, and not enough of Kal’buir. “Must’ve got some bad intel, then, ‘cause I could’ve sworn that that mand’alor of yours was Death Watch.” 

“He quit,” said Fett, his tone going flat and dangerous again. 

Ordo raised his hands, palms up and empty, in a sign of peace. “Alright,” he said. “And the others? Bo-Katan Kryze and her verde, the Owls, the Saxons?” 

Fett shrugged. “I don’t have much to do with them,” he said. “I’m in the business of making credits, Skirata, not ruling Mandalore.” 

Ordo’s intelligence came from Jaing, who’d gotten it from his youngest girl, who had an in with one of the Saxon boys and another with an annoyingly cheerful and persistent shabuir who worked underneath old Fenn Rau. Ordo trusted Jaing’s daughter more than he trusted Boba Fett. If the new mand’alor had once been Death Watch – 

Well. None of that was Ordo’s business. He’d followed the old ghost of Kal’buir and come to check on his wayward brother, because Kal would have wanted to care about what happened to Boba Fett and in his advancing age Ordo found it hard to shut that old ghost out. 

Weakness, Ordo thought, in a voice that sounded cold and clipped and Kaminoan. 

All men are weak, Ord’ika, said a different voice. Just don’t let it kill you. 

So. Fett was fine. He was living with – married to, if the jor’ika around the more Mandalorian parts of the galaxy was right – this new mand’alor, and apparently had let go of his grudges enough that he could tolerate former Death Watch assassins hanging around. 

Maybe he doesn’t have too much of the Prime after all, thought Ordo. He made an interested noise. “Not in the business of ruling Mandalore?” Ordo said. He hesitated for only a bare second, aware that what he said next could get him punched in the nose by a Fett clone, who was genetically predisposed to punch rather hard, but decided that he’d rather take the risk and confirm Jaing’s intel, since it seemed that Mandalore was rising again, and it paid to keep an eye on growing power. “But here I thought that Mandalore the True spent most of his nights here in your bed,” said Ordo. 

His gut instinct had been right. Fett did punch him, hard and fast, square in Ordo’s nose. 

Ordo rolled with the blow and only staggered a little. The bright metal taste of blood filled his mouth. 

“Don’t call him that,” said Fett. His hand was still curled into a fist but he didn’t press his advantage and swing on Ordo again. 

He is one of the brothers, Ordo thought, a kernel of something that might have been affection – and what Ordo was going to pretend was just grudging respect – taking root beneath his armor. 

“He’s hoping it doesn’t stick,” said Fett. He finally set his staff aside, propping it up on the work table. Fett was still wary, was still watching Ordo with a fierce expression on his face, but he had put down his weapon. For a Mandalorian, that was a sign that a verd was open to negotiation. That a verd mmight listen.

Ordo hadn't been a soldier in a very long time but he remembered how to talk like one. How to talk to one.

Fett was angry. Fett wanted to fight. Ordo wasn't angry.

“What’s he like, then?” Ordo said, standing back up straight. He set his nose with a practiced twist and ignored the blood in his mouth. Spitting on Tatooine was impolite, he’d heard. “We’ve heard ‘Mandalore the Just’ and ‘Mandalore the Fair,’ too, though we couldn’t tell if that was referring to his politics or to his face.” 

Ordo had seen this new mand’alor on Krownest. Everyone had. Ordo was forty-six years old, physically closer to seventy, and he was a father and a grandfather and a happily married man. 

But, he thought, amused, as Fett’s hand curled into a fist and a very Prime light glittered in his face, I do have eyes. 

Fortunately, Fett managed to restrain the impulse to hit Ordo again, which was probably for the best. Ordo could let him have the one hit, but allowing two offended Ordo’s pride. If he and Fett were to be allies – and Ordo suspected that they were allies, or that they would be allies soon, because Ordo had enough of Kal Skirata in him to know that once he claimed a clone a kin, Ordo would not – could not – change his mind.

Daro's a good place for a morut, he thought. But the clan's big enough now that it might be time for the young to set off on their own. To build a new morut.

Tatooine was a large planet. There were plenty of places for a resourceful band of warriors to scratch out a good living.

“Ordo,” Fett said, after thinking for a moment. “Get out of my house.” 

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

Tech Lives Reason #1a

Expanding on the whole No Body = Not Dead thing.

We have seen this many times before in Star Wars. It's basically a trope at this point. An important character appears to die in a definitely yep-they're-very-dead manner and then we discover later on that they somehow managed to survive and are miraculously alive! Let's go through some examples.

Echo. The poor man was literally blown up in an explosion and still survived. It was a pretty grim survival, he lost most of his right arm, everything from the hips down, sustained who knows how many other significant, probably lethal injuries and was tortured at the hands of the Techno Union and yet, Echo still survived, and was rescued as well.

Maul. Cut in half with a lightsaber by Obi-Wan and then fell to his death down a reactor shaft. Still somehow survived (through pure spite?) and made himself new legs and a lower torso from whatever he could scrounge up from living on a rubbish tip planet.

Obi-Wan. Fell to his apparent death after Cody order him to be blasted off the side of a canyon wall when Order 66 happened. Turn ups miraculously alive in the same movie.

"Somehow Palpatine returned" ... Are you actually joking?! That is an absolute boatload of space magic sci-fi "science" deus ex machina hand waving to magically solve your plot point problems. Especially as at the end of Return of the Jedi we saw him very definitely thrown to his death down a reactor shaft on the Death Star, which is promptly blown into smithereens. Palps is space dust at this point. Also, you do not get to get away with making the magnificent Oscar Isaac, playing the absolutely stunning Poe Dameron (hello previous blorbo), say that nonsense line and then think you can also get away with Tech falling to his death at the start of an episode (more about that particular grumble later).

Anakin. What was left of him after Obi-Wan had basically lopped off all his limbs was a charred and severely burned head and body that was literally on fire. The man basically had a lava bath and still survived. Again, a pretty grim survival but he was still alive and went on to terrorise the galaxy.

Reva. She is run through with a lightsaber by Darth Vader in the penultimate episode of the Obi-Wan Kenobi series. This is the exact same injury that killed Qui-Gon Jinn in his battle with Maul at the end of The Phantom Menace. Yet Reva survives somehow (again, through pure spite?) and was given an ambiguous future after receiving a pep talk from Obi-Wan and basically being given his blessing and a chance to now atone for what she did as an Inquisitor.

Boba Fett. Fell into the maw of the sarlacc in the Great Pit of Carkoon at the start of Return of the Jedi, which came out in 1983. Presumed dead for 38 years until the first episodes of The Book of Boba Fett, where we see him somehow manage to get out of the stomach of said Sarlacc while being literally eaten and digested alive. Again, a pretty grim survival. He barely made it out and was definitely permanently injured from the ordeal but Boba still survived.

Hunter. The bandana space dad himself fell from the ramp of the Marauder on Daro. He literally bounced down a mountain, smacked into multiple solid tree branches and then hit the ground hard. If we're talking about long falls that should've killed a character, or at the very least cause significant and major injuries, that is one of them. But Hunter shook it off with just one stumble as he pushed himself to his feet and was standing and still giving orders moments later when he was captured. Plus we saw no indication of any injuries because there were none of those ridiculous bandages over his armour and blacks (more about that grumble later too). What I think might've been forgotten about this fall is that they were all quite a long way up a mountain on Daro when Hunter fell. The Marauder was quite high up and I'd hazard a guess that the distance it was in the air was not too far removed from how high up those rail cars were. Probably not quite as far up but not as far away as you might think.

Various clones. This is a bit of a different one but clones seem exceptionally hardy, tough, and basically built to survive. From what I've read, there seem to be multiple examples of various clones getting shot, blown up, badly injured or otherwise appearing to die and then magically appearing later very much not dead. This is where my knowledge of clones falls down though because I never watched The Clone Wars and Rebels when they came out. I've only just started watching TCW (still in season 1) and was planning on continuing after The Bad Batch Season 2 finale but I think I'm going to need a while now before I get back into it because of all of, well, *hand waves*, that. I've been meaning to write about this in more detail so hopefully I'll have a link to this when that's done (here's hoping future me remembers to update this post) (Edit: future me here! Here's a link to that post).

There are various other more loose examples as well that are still valid and worth keeping in mind.

Ezra disappeared into hyperspace with Thrawn on some purrgil at the end of Rebels and is presumably, somewhere?

Rey died at the end of The Rise of Skywalker but was somehow brought back to life by Kylo Ren/Ben Solo/whoever he was at that point, who then promptly karks it after kissing her for some reason?! (still peeved at this ending)

Fennec was left for dead in season 1 of The Mandalorian after being shot in the stomach. She was saved by a conveniently lurking Boba, given some cybernetic innards and appears fine and dandy in season 2.

All of this is basically a long list and way of saying that Star Wars has a history of doing this and there are plenty of reasons to believe that Tech isn't dead.

[daimyosprincess]

Hoi I love your works and stories. I would love to write boba fett but have no idea how. Any tips for first time boba fett writers ?

ksjflfjfdksujslfj anon thank you so much 💖🥹😭

I am but an untrained, babey writer myself but I can tell you how I crafted my approach to writing Boba!

Step 1, be obsessed with Boba Fett since childhood, grow up, rediscover your love for him and Temuera Morrison as a slightly unhinged adult.

What hopefully is not just pure rambling below the cut

I watched The Mandalorian (specifically Boba's episodes in season 2) and TBOBF a concerning amount of times, and scoured Tumblr/AO3 for fics of our fav green tin can man. Got comfy with the character, figured out what drives him, what his motivations are, what his worldview and outlook are like. Essentially, my process boiled down to the following:

Immerse myself in the source content

Read, read, read & comment, comment, comment

Talking to the authors who inspired me (like you're doing now!)

Just started writing any and everything that came to me

Read some more, commented some more

Kept writing, saved everything

Got feedback

Now obviously everyone will have their own interpretations of a character, but to me, much of Boba's outlook and personality are defined by the death of his father. He is an intelligent boy raised with love by one of the galaxy's best bounty hunters, who teaches him not only about survival but also honor, respect, and personal responsibility. Jango was far from perfect (as we all are) but he did genuinely love his son and didn't hide that from Boba.

Besides the obvious trauma of seeing his father beheaded in front of him, Boba experienced a lifetime of further trauma that would have easily made him go back on what his father instilled in him. He was angry and he was alone during this time, his motivations being centered in anger and inexorable control (as seen in his drive to keep his reputation as a hunter stellar). To him, others were a liability, caring about anyone would only lead to pain. Boba burned bright and hot, but ultimately this path was not sustainable.

After the sarlacc and his time with the Tuskens, Boba was able to grow past the shadow of his father's death--there were different ways to honor his father than just being the best. He could heal himself, lead with respect and principles that harken back to his grandfather's code (whether he knows that or not), live a life that didn't have to end on some pointless job for the galaxy's scum. Boba relearned the importance of clan, that one cannot face this existence alone. Daimyo Boba now burns strong and even, fed by hearty logs rather than dry kindling.

Some posts I found helpful in characterizing Boba:

Boba's love language is acts of service by @thefact0rygirl

The spectrum of dom/general sexual behavior in Star Wars men by @rexxdjarin

Me and @rexxdjarin's comments on her Afflictions fic

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Boba is funny send tweet

Boba's got a way with (written) words

Boba and words 2

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Boba is the sun

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Boba's relationship with being Mandalorian by @deewithani

There's obvs many more but these are the ones I could find again

I hope this was what you were looking for (and coherent lmao) and best of luck with your writing! We all can't wait to see what you come up with for our beloved Boba 💚

No pressure tags if some of these other Boba writers (and anyone else!) want to add anything to this: @rexxdjarin @thefact0rygirl @saradika @acatalystrising @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @bobathirstaccount @deewithani @writingwintermoon