#to you are tough fett

[cienie-isengardu]

Jango Fett: Open Seasons, issue #1

Hey, kid.

We'll make sure the boy gets home.

Answer me, or your kid will be wearing your brains.

Jango Fett: Open Seasons, issue #3

I'm right here, Mandalorian!

Send the Jedi to Jango's camp [...]

Jango Fett: Open Seasons, issue #4

Fett?!

Hope is overrated, boy.

You're tough, Fett. And determined.

Feeling queasy, Jango? [...]

[mearchy]

my favorite genre of fictional character is like "i am terrifying to almost everyone, i'm very good at killing, i can endure anything, i've become exceptionally good at playing into my reputation, and if you try to give me positive social interaction i will react with confusion and cower in a corner like an abused animal. and i may try to shoot you. but there is also a chance i may imprint on you like a feral dog receiving its first loving touch! good luck."

[inkybyl]

Everybody Gangsta till they gotta take their lil sister to nursery

I’m super ill so I finished some old sketches of a Modern/Gang Family type AU I still wanna flesh out 🫶

Lowkey wanna waffle about the ideas real quick in case I don’t draw them

Below is big brother Wrecker and lil brother Tech I love them.

Basically I had this idea that Hunter (as the eldest) has been looking after Wrecker and his younger twin brothers Tech & Crosshair. Still trying to figure out a way to make this work, but one day their dad, Jango Fett turns up at their door with another pair of toddler twins in his arms, Boba & Omega, and asks Hunter if he can take his new little sister in.

I have a concept dialogue so I’ll just throw it in here 🤣

~

“And you’ve come all this way just to tell me you’ve got more kids?” Hunter gruffed, leaning on the doorframe with a displeased look on his face while crossing his arms. Jango sighed, running a hand through his curly locks, “I know this isn’t ideal. But- I don’t know where she’d be safest.”

Hunter tilted his head as he stared down at his blonde toddler sister, “Us? You’re just going to dump her on us?” He questioned, feeling his heart rate increase in a flurry of different emotions.

Jango stared down at his daughter with a solemn look, closing his eyes as he took in a deep breath, gently squeezing Boba’s hand, “Hunter- there’s no time to explain-“, “No time to explain. Right. Plenty of time to make us and move on like we’re just not here until it’s convenient, apparently.”

Jango stared down at his son, his skull tattoo on full display as Hunter refused to break eye contact. He didn’t have the energy to fight. “… Please…”

Hunter’s head recoiled in shock at the gentle tone in his voice, staring back down at his little sister who kept fiddling with her long-sleeved shirt. “Her name is Omega. She’s a curious one so keep an eye out for that. Where I’m going… it’s no place for her… she needs a family that will look out for her.” He muttered, swallowing in an attempt to moisten his throat. Hunter looked up at his father, his eyes flicking to the floor, “… Why not Rex… or Cody? She’ll be safer with them.” Hunter whispered, turning his head away. Jango shook his subtly, running his hand over Omega’s soft hair, “Just look after her, yeah?” He grumbled, his tough personality returning bit by bit as he realised the tears forming in his eyes.

~

So yeah!

In terms of Wrecker - he was only a couple years younger than Hunter so he could help out with looking after the twins, Crosshair and Tech. I have a headcanon that Wrecker was incredibly skilled/knowledgable with technology, weapons and electronics, and while Tech was growing up he had a natural talent for those things, but still needed teaching.

Wrecker would teach Tech different skills like building things from scratch, how to disarm or arm a weapon/explosive, etc etc. In terms of this AU, I’m thinking that Tech desperately wanted to impress his older brother by showing him how much he’s learnt from him, but he got a bit ahead of himself.

~

“Wrecker! You’re back! Come, look at what I’ve built!” Tech joyously exclaimed, pulling his taller brother’s arm through to their garden. Wrecker, back from a work out, was finishing the rest of his drink as he chuckled softly at his little brother’s excitement. “Alright, alright - I’m right behind you.” He playfully shook his head as he ducked out of the way of the doorframe, walking down the steps as Tech sprinted to the other end of their common.

“Stay there, Wrecker! Take a seat on the steps!” Tech ordered with a massive smile, “I know you’re going to love this!”

Wrecker smiled and took a seat on the wooden steps with an audible ‘creak’. “Ooh, am I going to see some fireworks?” Wrecker called over to Tech, squinting to try and see what he was bringing out. Tech pulled out his newest contraption, modelled to look like something Wrecker had tinkered with previously. Wrecker couldn’t inspect the handiwork in detail from where he was sitting, something he would usually like to do before Tech would test his newest experiments.

Tech smiled at his device, it appeared to be a form of firework launcher, possibly to assist the velocity the devices could travel at and reach higher altitudes. He knew how much his older brother loved explosions of different varieties, watching the beautiful combustion of chemicals mix in a stunning array of colours, sound and temperatures.

He ran back and forth to assemble all the remaining parts, grabbing some fireworks along the way, lining them up in his contraption. “I have created a far greater firework launcher, if this works we can create our own larger versions, and if they get launched with enough altitude, the massive blasts will not affect our sight or hearing! We will be able to appreciate the massive blasts by creating a safe distance!” He rambled with a giddy smile, showing Wrecker one of the fireworks from where he was standing.

Wrecker smiled genuinely, but dropped slightly as his gut twisted in discomfort. Something was wrong. “That sounds awesome, Tech. Let me take a look at it before you start pointing that around,” he chuckled, hoping to sound as casual as possible, placing his hand on his knee as he slowly stood up. Tech waved his hands, “No, no, no! I’ve got this!” He cheered, lining up a larger-than-normal firework into his device, he probably custom made it, too.

Wrecker’s stomach began to churn, his voice slipping to the big brother tone, “Tech, let me see it,” he said, beginning to walk over to his younger brother. Tech’s face dropped in disappointment, brows furrowing as he looked down at the creation, before flicking his eyes back to Wrecker. “Wait, Wrecker! I can show you- i-it works! I promise! Look!” Without thinking, Tech activated the device, the fuse being lit instantly as he stepped back to watch it fizzle and crack. Wrecker’s ears could pick up on the irregular sounds of the firework’s fuse burning away, not liking the way Tech’s device groaned and whined in an eerie way.

Wrecker’s pace increased, “Tech, get behind me will ya?” His voice was raised, outstretching his arm towards him with his palm open, “Now.” He could see Tech’s brain start to take everything in all at once, the upset expression on his face, and his hands desperately trying to shake out the tension that’s hit him instantly. The sounds of his experiment started to grow louder and more unstable, the modified firework on the verge of blasting off. “Wrecker- I promise! This one will work! I’ll be able to show you! I’ll—“

Wrecker’s body moved all by itself - barrelling himself towards Tech in one strong push of his heartbeat. The contraption reacted with the firework, the combination of the chemicals and elements combining in a dangerous combustion. Wrecker managed to move Tech before any shrapnel could reach him, shielding him from the blast by his hip, holding him with a bruising-tight grip. Wrecker’s adrenaline was kicked into overdrive, only feeling the pressure and heat from the explosion on the left side of his face and shoulder.

Tech was frozen underneath his brother’s hold, covering his ears while trying to control his breathing before a panic attack could ensue, his brain rattling with multiple thoughts and words whizzing through his head - almost screaming at himself. Time must have gone by because he could hear Wrecker’s laboured breaths, shakily turning his head to stare up at his elder brother. His eyes widened at the blood drops that splattered on his cheeks and goggles, unable to take a breath in at Wrecker’s marred flesh. “W-Wrecker..?”

Wrecker’s eyes were dark and lifeless, not even able to blink as his eyes would twitch up into his eyelids instead. The blast had charred and burned all of the left side of his head, the smell of his skin made bile rise up to Tech’s throat as he could see how the metal shrapnel must have sliced across his nose, eye brow and lips. Wrecker began rocking slightly, his laboured breaths slowing down as he stared down at his little brother. “What.. what’s with you…?” He grunted out, completely unaware to the extent of his injuries, only being able to focus on Tech’s horrified expression before his vision went completely black.

~

Had these written out and thought I’d share! Very early concept stages ofc, but I love playing with these ideas. After the blast, Wrecker’s ability with his previous interests had dropped significantly apart from his knowledge about weapons and demolitions - and I think after an explosion to the side of your head would alter your physical mental being, possibly keeping him at his juvenile state of mind as he grows up.

But yeah! 💫 if you read all of this, thank you so much! 🫶✨

[unsoundedcomic]

So Fette Frummagem lived because she didn't have her brother around to complete the other half of their fate (betray her to the people who want to torture her)

You could phrase it that way. Another way to look at it is she learned how to be tough and to survive and to sniff out bullshit all on her own because she didn't have a giant lion guardian at her side to protect her.

Either way, she is not like First Sette, nor any of the other girls that Ilganyag watched grow up and die over the centuries. She's Sette Godsdamned Frummagem.

[lizartgurl]

How Do You Know? (Han Solo x Leia Organa)

Hanleia Week Day One: Tradition. Feat. Anakin Solo. @hanleiacelebration

"I love you."

"I know."

"Why do you guys always say that?"

"Huh?" Han tried not to jump in surprise as he looked down at the budding adolescent beside him. His children had a nasty habit of being able to hide their presence until it was too late.

Young Anakin's nose crinkled. "Why do you always say 'I know' whenever the other one says 'I love you'? Aren't you supposed to say 'I love you' back?"

Han couldn't help the lopsided grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Do you want to tell him, Princess?" he asked.

Leia laughed softly, haloed in the blue light of her hologram, "It's a bit of a tradition at this point. We said it to each other once, and now it's just natural."

"But doesn't it sound kind of... Smug?" Anakin asked. He'd always had trouble with social norms and expectations. Han squeezed his baby boy's shoulder in reassurance.

"Your father is smug, honey," Leia explained in the same reassuring tone.

"Your mother's not off the hook either," Han insisted.

"How did it start?" Anakin asked, "Were you fighting, or...?"

"All the time."

"Han!"

"Your mother and I had been kidnapped by Darth Vader, the bait in a trap for Uncle Luke. They were going to freeze me in carbonite, which they usually just use for storing tibanna gas to ship out to other planets. The carbon freeze is great for preserving the gas and fuel, but they didn't know if it would kill me or not."

"But it didn't!" Anakin said quickly, his face pale and eyes wide.

"It didn't," Han reassured him, "But it was pretty scary. And that was the first time your mom told me that she loved me."

"In front of Grandpa?"

"Darth Vader is not your grandfather," Leia said in her no-nonsense tone, the one that still made Han's head spin.

Anakin looked thoughtful, "So when Mom said that she loved you, you just said 'I know'?"

"Okay, well it sounds bad when you put it like that-" He looked to Leia on the holo, hoping she would back him up.

Leia's hologram was smiling, that ice-melting, full body smile that must have been a Skywalker trait, her chin propped in her hand as she watched Han flounder.

"Wanna help me out here?"

"No, I think you got it, hotshot. Why did you say 'I know'?"

Han realized he had never really thought about it before. In the heat of the moment, in front of Vader, Fett, and half a platoon of stormtroopers, it just felt right. But why?

"Your mom's pretty tough, Nik," He said at last, "A senator, a princess, a general, she had to be. Back then, after everything that happened to her, she hated letting anyone get under her skin."

"Even you?" They were his parents, of course Anakin wouldn't be able to imagine a situation where they hated each other.

"Especially him," Leia grinned, "He was the worst."

"So when I told her 'I know', it was a way for me to tell her that I understood that she loved me, but also that I understood who she was as a person. That I knew how big it was that she told me this in front of people that hated us, and that I knew she would move the stars in order to save me."

Anakin was quiet now, deep in thought over this confession. Han glanced back at Leia, and caught a glimpse of her trying to wipe away her tears. He could hear Threepio in the background somewhere, asking if she required a handkerchief, but Leia dismissed him.

"Did you ever tell her you loved her back?" Anakin asked.

"Absolutely," Han beamed at his son. "When we were destroying the Death Star on Endor, she got shot protecting me. When I tried to help her, some stormtroopers cornered us and I thought it was all over. I'd have done anything to protect your mom then and there, but before I could do anything, Mom showed me that she was still holding her blaster. Since the stormtroopers didn't see it, she could take them by surprise.

"I knew I loved your mom before then, but that reminder of how strong she was, how smart she was, I was a goner."

"That's when he told me he loved me." Leia said. She sounded like a giddy schoolgirl rather than the chief of State, her chin propped up in her hands as she listened to Han talk about how much he loved her.

"And you told him that you knew?" Anakin asked.

"Yes, I knew. And I still know." Leia said.

Anakin's brow crinkled again, "When was the first time you told me that you loved me?" he asked the hologram of his mother.

"Oh, Anakin, I told you that I loved you before you were born," Leia said. Anakin's face grew red and shy, but he was the one who asked.

"Alright, Mom's gotta go now, kiddo, say goodbye."

"Bye, Mom!" Anakin waved to the hologram, and was quickly distracted by the puzzle games on his holo pad once again,leaving Han alone with his wife. Finally.

"I love you sweetheart. More than you know."

"Well I don't know about that," Leia teased. She blew a kiss through the holo.

"I'll see you tonight."

"Don't be late, I'm making grilled nuna and mashed potatoes."

Leia sighed, "I'm so glad I had babies with you."

Han couldn't stop a cocky grin, "I know."

[klerothesnowman]

The Idea That Mandalorian Culture Is Even Slightly Positive Is Legitimately Disgusting To Me

Full mask off with this one. I think you people are misguided at best, imperialism apologists at middling, and full blown fascists at worst.

Get clickbaited baby. Okay, I was being extra harsh. Kind of.

Not really.

Like I said with the Sith ramble, it's totally okay to think Mandalorians are cool and roleplay Mandalorians and all of that, but just like with the Sith you NEED to recognize what these people are. People are internalizing some intensely fucked up beliefs with Mandalorians, and covering up the things they don't like with headcanons that align with their beliefs.

But guys, there is a REASON nearly every major appearance of Mandalorians cast them as villains, this includes Clone Wars and Rebels. There is REASON the Mandalorian character option in SWTOR is aligned with the Sith Empire. There is a REASON so many Mandalorian roleplayers turn out to be weirdo alt-right cryptofascists.

And the thing that blows my mind is that it's not even a fandom issue. Star Wars writers have had characters proudly stand tall and say "My culture was taken from me by the Mandalorians and that's a good thing", and then had other characters go "Wow, that's really made me think. Maybe your culture of genocide committing crusaders aren't that bad..." It's insane.

So what is a Mandalorian? Like, what is a Mandalorian really?

Out of universe, a Mandalorian is a Boba Fett. Someone in a cool iconic outfit to automatically signal to the view "This guy is tough". Knowing that Boba Fett's design had a certain je ne sais quoi they brought his design back for Jango Fett, and then mixed it with the design of Stormtroopers to make Clone Trooper Armour.

But this opened the door to a horrible, horrible mistake. The same mistake Star Wars makes time and time again. By implying that the armour was more than just a dude's outfit they gave a writer room to invent a culture based off one or two characters. And so just like Rodians and Gand, the entirety of Mandalorian culture was formed around the fact that Boba and Jango were bounty hunters with wrist weapons and jetpacks.

Their culture was developed by one Karen Traviss, someone who's a little "Controversial" in circles, she made a warrior culture based on the Celts and other general Warrior Culture vibes. And boy howdy did they go hard on it, Mandalorian lore expanded, they got a religion, a history of genocide, cool robots, tons of armour and weapons, mythologized as the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Jedi cut through metal? Well not MANDALORIAN metal, their metal is the BEST metal. They even get an entire language, and a tradition of adopting people into their culture.

I haven't read too much of these books, what I have read strikes me as a little... I don't want to say edgy, but it's got that "US Army propaganda permeates our entire understand of war" vibes. Military men are valorized and women are kind of treated like shit, and while researching these books a little I kept finding people point even more awful shit in them. They're pretty nasty. But one of the consistent things I've noticed from them is a kind of... I want to say, acknowledgement that this stuff is bad.

The main Mandalorian guy is a violent, drunken asshole who emotionally abuses "his boys", the things soldiers do are horrific and are treated as such. Mandalorians aren't exactly given a squeaky clean image here. It's presented as an ugly, violent culture with a lot of misogynistic undertones.

I've got issues with the presentation, but I don't have beef with them. I have beef with what came after.

The fandom perception of Mandalorians is "Distressing". The fandom perception of Mandalorians is that they're this perfectly accepting and welcoming culture of kind hearted warriors who will be so gentle and kind within their clan but absolutely destroy anyone who dares hurt their dear friends. They're this huge mishmash of different cultures all mixing together in a delicious soup, the Echani Mandalorian teaches everyone their cool martial arts tricks while the Devaronian Mandalorian cooks everyone a nice spice traditional Devaronian meal while the Rodian Mandalorian regales everyone with some opera how nice and wonderful true found family there.

They're also not at all sexist, there is no difference between men and women, Mandoa doesn't even have gender in it but also Mandalorian women are super respected as brutal warriors equally as much as the men.

I hope I'm getting across that this is absolutely fucking bullshit. Let's start with the language thing because it's kind of indicative of the entire problem with gender here.

Mandoa absolutely is not "Gender Neutral", it seems like it is, Karen Traviss even said it is, an attempt was made to make it Gender Neutral. But here's the thing, what do the abusive dad character in those books call the Troopers? "His Boys". What do they all call each other? "Brothers", what is the translation of Vode An, that song Mandalorians love so much? "Brothers All".

Mandoa is extremely gendered, it wasn't made to be gender neutral, it was made to be masculine and then they applied it to women too. It's about Brothers and Brotherhood and real Manly Men stuff. It is positively dripping with toxic masculinity.

And again, this is basically how all of the women Mandalorians are treated. One of the mentioned things in lore is that Mandalorian women are "even fiercer fighters than the men", and that you should never flirt with a Mandalorian woman unless "you intend to marry her". You never see any of this though, in fact you more often seen the female Mandalorians taking care of kids and working in the kitchen. Even if you did see it, it's not exactly female empowerment here, it's just more hyper machismo bullshit "The only kind of woman that could satisfy a strong mandalorian warrior is another strong mandalorian warrior" you know what I mean?

But let's get to the real juicy thing. The imperialism.

So like, these guys are Crusaders. You know, those things that have never been problematic ever.

These guys are nomadic warriors, attacking and conquering planets, and taking spoils into themselves. You see that big machine the central guy is riding? That's a Basilisk War Droid, or "Bes'uliik". They're pretty iconic for Mandalorians, they're mini Metal Gears that have animal-like personalities and guns for faces, they're pretty cool.

Mandalorians didn't make them. They took them from the race they wiped out and appropriated it into their culture. They do that a lot, there's a big list of races that the Mandalorians genocided. You can read it on Wookiepedia it's all aright there.

This is the truth of Warrior Cultures. This is what they do. This is what the cultures that the Mandalorians were based on do. They conquer people and then "assimilate" them into their culture. They don't respect people's old cultures, they erase them.

The kotor comics tried to put a positive spin on this and it's fucking insane

The Mandalorians are not a multicultural or diverse people. They have more in common with the "Schools" white people kidnapped the indigenous kids to in Australia and Canada.

Even the Foundling thing is rooted in that kind of stuff. Mandalorians find a lost child on the battleground (I wonder why there's a lost child on the same battleground as a Mandalorian hrm, thinking emoji) and then take it and force their culture on them. It's kind of fucked up innit?

And their culture too. Let's unpack it a bit. Specifically the Resol'nare, this thing is considered the core pillar of the Mandalorian culture. If you do not follow these things you are literally soulless and you are not going to heaven.

This stuff is kind of not great. It's kind of fascist. Or maybe religious fundamentalism. But crucially, that subtle kind of where it seems reasonable until you start analyzing what it actually means and what it does.

Because remember, if you do not do these things you are not a Mandalorian. More than that, you are Dar'manda, which again means you are literally soulless and you are not going to heaven.

If you don't dress the way they want, not going to heaven.

If you don't speak the way they want, not going to heaven.

If you don't put your family first, not going to heaven.

If you don't do what the absolute ruler says, not going to heaven.

And if you let your kids make their own choices you're also not going to heaven.

Except it's actually more than that, it's also if you don't follow the Resol'nare you don't have a soul, you're already less than a person.

The Resol'nare is othering and dehumanizing, it's defining who isn't within your mandated circle of people to care about, and then telling you that the people outside of that are less than you. Something that is real handy when you need to kill people outside of your circle.

The language gets in on that too. The word for non-Mandalorians is Aruetti. That's incidentally the same word they use for Traitor. Not being a Mandalorian is synonymous with being a scumbag.

A lot of this stuff is retconned and removed for Disney Era Star Wars. I have problems with that too but it's more of a "missed opportunity" thing so I'll save it for another post. But the core of the Mandalorian Culture is deeply rooted in some rancid stuff, and it's being sanitized and refluffed as progressive by people who really want their violent warrior culture to be morally okay.

Despite my very inflammatory title, I don't think it's a bad thing to think Mandalorians are cool. But just like with thinking Sith are cool, it's really important you recognise that these fictional cultures are rooted in some really problematic shit. This is one of the pipelines people use to convince people of their shitty rhetoric for years, headcanons and bullshit like "when you think about it the Empire is good because they brought stability". It's just more obvious with the Empire because they're straight up Nazis.

[auxxrat]

woke up angry because they put ANYONE BUT Boba on the Mando throne.

I love Bo-Katan, MORE than the next person probably. BUT PLEASE DAVE FILONI. I LOVE SATINE TOO BUT PLEASE. Both of them have reasons as to why they aren’t fit to rule Mandalore, but Boba shows us time and time again that he could singlehandedly take back the entire planet.

And the disrespect Bo-Katan gives him?? Crazy, crazy propaganda and its crazy that SHE out of all people would listen to it. And giving Bo-Katan the right of being their leader after giving it up SO EASILY?(listen, I know she was in a tough situation but you think even the mando’s would take that personally and say hey not u but maybe IM wrong on that), you would think the mando’s would SEE that as unfit and disrespectful, seeming all that happened afterwords.

It would NOT be crazy, at least in legends, to say that the people would PRAY for Jango’s return. You think they aren’t gonna see Boba and drop to the ground with the Mandalorian throne in their hands? It’s his birth right DIRECTLY, Jango is a DIRECT descendant of Cassus Fett and a bloodline that has been Mandalorian for centuries— this makes Boba and the clones direct descendants too— THAT IS THEIR CLAIM. It’s literally their BIRTH RIGHT, and keeping the clones away from their culture is even more disrespectful than Boba not claiming whats his.

AND the watering down of Death Watch is crazy, I KNOW I aways bring this up but it makes me mad. I do not CARE if they are just the children of the watch, they are clearly still a rouge fraction that believes in the old Death Watch ways. Boba knows the stories, what they have done to his father has been with him since he was BORN, he deserved at LEAST a 1v1 vs Paz instead of that weak death (it was kinda cool but when you consider a VIZSLA?? Going down?? Yeah cooler death even if you hate them). Its even more important that Din knows what they’ve done, or at least the armorer admitting and telling the story of what happened on THAT day.

This was literally just a yapping sesh because I’m salty about Boba not reclaiming what’s RIGHTFULLY his, or any of the clones for that matter. All in all, Boba should be sitting on that throne not in some trash bin on Tatooine.

THE MANDALORIAN PEOPLE YEARN FOR THE FETTS!!! THEY YEARN FOR THE DAY JANGO COMES BACK AND SAVES THEM !!!

[basiclauren]

Boba Fett meets professional headshot

Hi everyone! So… this is a hard post for me. I’m not one to really reach out for help… but there comes a point in time where we have to, and that’s ok. Last month, we ran into a very unexpected and very unplanned event where we had to buy my husband a new vehicle. While we’re loving the new vehicle, it is another expense that we have to find a way to manage… and it’ll be tough. On top of that, I received some not so good medical news… and on Monday, I’m going to have additional examination done that tests for cancer. So yeah… medical bills inbound. When it rains it really does pour!

So with that… I decided to have prints done of my most recent Fett piece and sell them to raise money for our new vehicle expense as well as upcoming medical bills. I am placing an order for 25 prints and each print will be $25 a piece. Prints are going to be ordered Thursday, August 15th 2024 and will be posted on my Etsy (basiclaurenart on Etsy).

I’m not seeking a pity party and I understand times are tough for a majority of us. Even liking and sharing this post will do wonders for us. I appreciate everyone that chooses to buy a print and/or shares, comments, or likes this post to help spread it amongst the community.

Remember to take care of yourself and get your regular checkups! Please.

A dear friend came up with an awesome idea of doing a bounty hunter series, and the next hunter is already in works! Can you guess who it is?!

Be on the lookout! Once the next hunter is done, and I have a print in hand, I’ll make another post and prints of the hunter will be available.

If you have any questions, please feel reach out to me! The 25 prints are first come first serve, and if there is a significant interest in them, I will gladly have more prints made and put them up on my Etsy.

Thank you all for taking the time to read this post and for your consideration. What bounty hunter are you excited to see?!

[jessicas-pi]

Oh the first fic I associate you with is either Time Heals or Commit To The Bit, I love those two!

Ooh, so, for CTTB, that's a tough one. Lemme think. ummmmmm OH OK HAHA I GOT ONE.

The Jango Fett Clone Found Family Acquisition Mandate is about to catch up to a certain bounty hunter in the form of becoming honorary uncle to a bunch of baby Jedi, and there is absolutely nothing Boba can do to stop it.

And my Time Heals secret is that... hmmm.... ok, so, remember how Anakin had a bit of blackmail on Ezra but it wasn't revealed what it was? Yeah, so, I'm not going to tell you WHAT it is yet, but it definitely has to do with something incredibly embarrassing and crush-related he did when he was 15. and I can neither confirm nor deny the fact that it involves poetry.

[seven-oomen]

So, bit of an idea. My problem right now is too many ideas for these characters, but not enough time to write it all.

But the idea is that it's a Jangobi/Kenfetti soulmate au. Where soulmates are chosen by acts of true honor. (By the force/the manda/a higher power)

In this version of the story Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were at the battle of Galidraan at 44BBY (Obi-Wan is 16 at the time, a little aged up, Jango Fett is 22.) leading to an event where the Jedi don't kill Fett and his Mandalorians. Thanks to Obi-Wan's negotiation skills, they manage to get down to the truth and calm the situation. (And in particular Myles and Jango, which earns Obi-Wan massive amounts of respect by said Mandalorians.)

This event kick-starts a soulmate link between Obi-Wan and Jango, though soulmate links don't fully activate until someone is 18.

Now imagine two years later, Obi-Wan starts having dreams where he meets someone with a familiar voice. You can't see your soulmate's face in your dreams until you are fully aware of who it is. Once that clicks, the person in question is able to see their soulmates face. It has to click for both people.

Once they know who their soulmate is, a telepathic link forms if both parties are willing (even if subconsciously) to pursue the bond.

That's important, because you can refuse a soulmate bond. It's very rare in Mandalorian culture to do so. (Because of their beliefs). But it is more common in Jedi culture. (Though not required, it is very much a choice someone can make.) As long as their duties as Jedi take precedent.

Now, a 19-year-old padawan Obi-Wan and his master Qui-Gon Jinn are sent to Mandalore in 41BBY.

The true Mandalorians hold Keldabe while the New Mandalorians and the Deathwatch are at war over the rest of the planet.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon try to broker peace and install the New Mandalorians as the official government of Mandalore. However, things go haywire, and Obi-Wan has to take Satine and go on the run.

One day, he runs into a rather familiar face with an even more familiar voice. Jango Fett, the current Mand'alor of Keldabe, who's gathering more support among the different clans of Mandalore.

So in order to hide Satine from Deathwatch, Obi-Wan convinces Jango to take them both back to Keldabe.

And then you have this little fun and games section where Obi-Wan learns so much more about the true mandalorians and how they operate. And Satine learns much more about their heritage.

And there's this bit of a friendship of Obitine forming where they really care for each other on the deepest platonic level, but they have no real romantic interest in each other.

But of course Jango misreads that, even though he and Obi-Wan have been growing so much closer in their bonds, and he's come to see that the Jedi aren't all that bad either.

And there's this bit of shenanigans and misunderstandings that lead to an honest conversation about how they feel. And Obi-Wan comes to realize that Jango may be the person he'll leave the order for if it comes down to it.

But then Qui-Gon finds them in Keldabe. The Duke has been killed by Deathwatch. And there's more pressure than ever to just deal with the problem before it becomes bigger.

Jango, realizing that the fate of the planet, and potentially the greater galaxy, now rests on his shoulders, gathers the true mandalorians for one last showdown against Clan Vizsla. (And also avenge Jaster while he's at it.)

It's a tough fight, but Jango wins the darksaber from clan vizsla and is elected Mand'alore of the planet by the clans.

Obi-Wan, now faced with a choice to become a mandalorian or remain a Jedi, makes the choice to stay on Mandalore and honor his soulmate bond. A choice he doesn't make lightly, and that deeply saddens him inside.

Jango picks up on this and, although conflicted in his feelings, also recognizes that being a Jedi is the one true thing that makes Obi-Wan happiest. So he gives Obi-Wan the choice to leave and return to the Jedi temple. Obi-Wan refuses again, stating his place is here.

Jango isn't so sure after seeing just how miserable Obi-Wan is without a purpose. So he does something rather radical, he contacts Qui-Gon Jin and the Jedi order, except they don't send him Qui-Gon Jinn, they send him Dooku instead.

And Dooku decides, hey you know what, this place has the right idea about an actual functional government that fucking works. They need some help, sure, but I can work with that. So Dooku contacts Yoda to establish an independent Jedi temple on Mandalore (with permission from the Mand'alore, of course) that will be run by Obi-Wan Kenobi if the boy can pass his trials. He'll oversee it all, but is very much content by just being a helper of the people and being the wine uncle with crazy ideas.

The establishment of the independent Jedi Temple on Mandalore is what the force/the manda consider Jango's act of honor for Obi-Wan and their soulmate bond solidifies into a fully matured bond, resulting in a marriage of not only Jango and Obi-Wan, but also of Jedi and Mandalorian culture. Where the planet's ecosystem is restored, its people thrive, and somewhere down the line Jango & Obi-Wan have (or adopt, for the non mpreg fans) a couple of kids (Boba, Cal, Omega).

And that's how Obi-Wan Kenobi lives his best life on Mandalore. Idk. I never said the idea was perfect, just intriguing.

[rooksunday]

shout out to you if you guessed “din and grogu nonsense” from my tag game 😌 i was DETERMINED to get this missing day done! my mom (!) gave me the idea of linking ‘mint’ to skelly crew 🫡

fluffcember: mint

The sun had long since set but Grogu still fussed in his bassinet. Din checked the usual suspects—blankie tucked in, water drank, fangs cleaned—then scanned again for any beings approaching the perimeter that Grogu's senses might've noted but somehow evaded the perimeter security. Nothing stirred.

Din leaned over the bassinet. Used to be that he worried, looming like that, but something about his shadow seemed to calm the kid.

"What do you need? You gotta give me something to work with here," Din tried.

Grogu gave him the stink face.

Din gently rubbed the spot between Grogu's eyes. Sometimes it helped. "You're a tough negotiator, I know, and feared across the galaxy, but even Jango Fett used to get eight hours a night."

The stink face became marginally more fragrant and Grogu's ears lowered. The signs of imminent sleepiness hit Din like finding the first lingering trace of a mark. He didn't let himself get excited. Gotta play it cool, Djarin.

"You've heard of Jango Fett?"

Grogu nodded, but uncertainly. Like the name was a song he didn't remember the words to.

"Jango was Boba's buir," Din explained. "And a very famous bounty hunter. Boba will tell you he was the best in the galaxy." Din allowed himself to shrug one shoulder. There were only the two of them to hear as he leaned in and lowered his voice. "But I never heard about him taking out a krayt dragon."

Sure, the krayt dragon wasn't strictly a bounty, but it still counted as hunting, and Din planned to keep the story in his pocket to buy at least one more drink on Vanth's credits. The whole thing had happened so quickly, and been so necessary, that Din hadn't had time to consider the scale of the task, but the dark nights and cold sweats since had nudged the events firmly into free drink territory.

That gave him an idea.

"What about a story, kid? Something to take to dreams with you?"

Din grinned as those big ears went up even as Grogu snuggled down into his blankets. After helping tuck the blankets more firmly around Grogu's shoulders—with a brief diversion to poke the little tummy on the way—Din crouched beside the bassinet, his knees protesting the movement. He hooked one of his hands through the slats to brush his finger along Grogu's ear. Soft starlight seeped into the room from the open window, along with the permanent scent of burning from the lava flats.

"Let's see. What kind of story would our brave adventurer enjoy this evening? A kissing story?" Din huffed a laugh at the return of the stink face. He tugged gently on Grogu's ear. "No kissing story for Grogu the Indomitable. An adventure, then."

He thought for a moment, reaching into the shadowy dark where he kept the memories of his own buir. That rumbling voice. The comforting scent of spices and engine oil. Their armour that had shone like a new credit…

Din grinned as the perfect story came to him. He leaned in toward Grogu and paused as Grogu's big eyes gleamed back at him, expectant, patient, beloved. Even without the familiar language of a helmet, Din could recognise the love on Grogu's face. Had Din looked at his own buir like that once? He must have. How else would he recognise it so easily?

Maybe one day, Grogu's foundlings would look at their buir that way.

Play it cool, Djarin.

Din made himself focus on the present. On the moonlight. On his kid. He grinned again, maybe wobblier than before, and lowered his voice.

"Here's a story about the pirate Captain Tak Rennod and his search for the treasure of At Attin…"

[lokislady17]

TROS-5 years later and the Acolyte-just some thoughts.

Probably just posting into the void but sometime you have thoughts and they have to go somewhere. This December marks the 5 year anniversary of Episode 9: The Rise of Skywalker being released into theaters. I had high hopes for this movie. I hoped for decent resolutions to plot points laid out in the Last Jedi. Oh wow, was I left disappointed. 2019 was also just a very tough year for me. My father passed away in early 2019 and adjusting to life without him was not easy. Like the rest of the world, I would soon learn that 2019 was the opening act for 2020. But before that, I had always felt I had Star Wars to help me cope. After TROS, I just felt like I didn't have that anymore. The shows and material in the wake of TROS were by no means terrible. At worst, I just found some of the shows Like Boba Fett and Obi Wan to just be unnecessary. Then The Acolyte came along and by the time it was done, I felt like the fandom was reborn. Like fandom was fun again. Some of my old favorite channels on You Tube came back. It made me so happy considering how many channels died after TROS. I felt like I could finally lay the Reylo ship to rest now that I had Oshamir. But then the cancellation happened. I'm okay (There are way more important things to be concerned with than a TV show) but once more, I feel like something great has been taken away because of toxicity in the fandom.

[marierg]

Biscuits and Beskar: Ch. 8

Pairing: Boba Fett x OC Kaylee Manu

Rated: PG-13 (Language and violence, parental guidance suggested)

Warnings: cannon typical violence, language, old wounds/ past trauma, language. Let me know if I missed one.

A/N: This is more of a meat and potatoes chapter so no smuts. We're getting closer to the climax so just know that the pain is coming. Kaska is a Tuskin OC and one I've been working on for a while. I really wanted to have someone represent the Tuskins themselves and I tried to be as respectful as possible. Any recommendations are welcome so please drop 'em! If it's italicized then it's the Tuskin sign language.

Words: 6000 ish...

Gif by @anakin-solo

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Tags are open, just drop a line

To say that Drash was in an ill mood would be putting it lightly.

All afternoon it had felt as though her temper lashed upon the nearest being or droid that came too near. So she had taken to the hangar, working on her bike. Normally the sound of the wrench turning would act to soothe her circuits, but not today.

“E chu ta!”

Drash threw the spanner, sucking on her bloodied knuckles. She thought she'd been so smart getting you to come work for the Palace, thinking you'd be safe. She was a damn idiot to ever think that.

“Could get more thrust if you tuned the carb a bit.” Boba strode to the young woman, offering the spanner from whence it flew. She glared before ripping it from his grasp. Testy indeed as her friends had warned. Boba needed to understand what troubled the girl, the root of her anger. Drash had a temper for certain, but she controlled it well. Witnessing her practically stripped out the bolt heads, he knew it to be ruling the girl instead. Sitting on the crate a few paces off he took a deep breath. “Is there something about this Kaska business that troubles you?”

Drash could see the old man wasn't going to leave, roughing her nerves all the more. She wasn't in a talking mood and so continued ignoring the Daimyo. Drash glanced back to the bike refocusing as she pulled out the filter and placing it in the sonic cleaner.

The scrapper was tough Boba had to admit, didn't flinch. So what was it that she feared? “Drash?”

“It's fine. The drift trader's fine, alright,” She spat the words and tried to ignore the familiar burning in her chest. Storming to the tool box she began to rifle, there was no escaping it though. Over and over she saw that night, remembered your screams as they ran and hid. The stench of the dumpster and her own vomit while she and the others waited.

Waited to live, waited to die or worse.

The girl slammed the lid on the case, yanking another open to continue her search. Boba moved quietly, carefully taking the tool from her mechanical hand and placed it back. His eyes continued to assess as his tone remained neutral, “What troubles you then? Do you think that Kaylee will be in Danger?”

“Ain't none of us safe, what does it matter though?” Graveling out the words, Drash kept her own eyes glued to the wall. “You can always find another cook, another assassin, more muscle. Why would a Daimyo care, we're all expendable...”

“Your rage will not help you here ad'ika,” Once upon a time he may not have cared, that was the true, but no longer so. “You think it will protect you, keep you warm when all the others are gone. It won't.”

Drash turned, practically snarling. “You would know, eh?”

“Yes, I would.” It was a calm reply, laced though it was with regret. He had never gotten the chance to raise his daughter, never had the chance to pass on the hard lessons he'd learned. Drash was not Ailyn, nor was he her father, but his little tribe was as close to family as a man like him would ever get. “You're not the first to shed a tear, nor felt the sting of loss.”

“You know what's coming,” Drash narrowed her eyes, holding the Daimyo's gaze. She had learned long ago. Never blink, never back down, never show weakness. Yet here she was about to violate those rules of safety, for your sake. Because she couldn't loose you. “Send her away...”

“You really think I hadn't already considered that?”

Turning to fully face the old hunter Drash's shoulders set. Her voice began to rise, “She won't survive it again! Mama Kay almost died saving us and now it's happening all over again. Send her away where she's safe please!”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Boba wished he could do just that. “What happened?”

Drash knew from the Daimyo's tone that he would have the truth. Years of guilt filled her voice, “It was my fault... I tried to keep quiet.”

“Go on,” He saw as the girl's eyes clouded over. She may not flinch, but she was pained none the less as she sat twirling the ratchet.

“The bag men would come looking during the day. Lot of times they'd grab people on the street or you'd come home to your door kicked in, either way you'd never see those folks again. Sometimes sweep right into the school and grab a kid up. Stopped going, never real book smart anyway...” The twirling of the wrench was a soothing feeling in her flesh hand as Drash continued. “Mama Kay put us up in her restaurant, we hid up in the attic during the day. Wasn't bad for us big kids just... the littlin's got restless.”

Gnashing his teeth Boba saw red, but he let her go on. “How little?”

“My sister Nova was just eight. Couple of the others were younger, but she was the last one to hide with us. Mama Kay was trying to find a place for us to stay together but...” Wincing visibly the girl remembered how her sister had cried and begged not to go. Maybe if she had then things would be different. “The bag men got a tip off, came in the night. I tried to keep quiet but we were all sick and... they heard.”

The wrench ceased turning in her hand as moisture pricked her eyes. It had been a horror. The bag men had stormed in shouting, ordering the other patrons out. They had wailed on you, cut you, and still you hadn't said a word. Skad had been helping the others down the back stairs when the bastards lit the place on fire, used a can of astro fuel to really make it burn. It was when they were trying to get out that Drash had wretched what little she'd had in her stomach alerting to their presence. Nova had been grabbed, she was screaming for help. Drash had tried, the trandosian who held Nova wouldn't let go no matter how hard she'd hit him. Then the kark had grabbed her by the throat, hissing over Drash until all too suddenly he'd stopped.

She remembered the blood pouring down on her even as the flames rose around them. Coughing and sputtering she hadn't realized the it had been Mama Kay whose arms had looped around her, pulled her into the alley. It hadn't been till after Drash had been tossed in the dumpster that she realized that Nova wasn't with her.

Then the screams from inside...

“Mama Kay ran back in for Nova, part of the wall fell on her...” Voice barely a whisper as she tried to explain. “They made it out. Garsa hid us the rest of the night, then Kaska took us to the Dunes the next day, hid us for months until things calmed down.”

“And your sister?”

Her lip trembled as Drash clasped the little bracelet on her belt, “She was hurt too bad when the wall fell. She was just... too little... It was my fault.”

So that was it. The girl sought to right a wrong not of her doing, one that was never hers to bear. Drash had proven a strong and clever leader time and again among the mods. It had been she who had kept the little band held tight. A warrior unblooded and it was high time for her trial. Giving a solemn nod Boba grumbled, “Come with me.”

The girl followed the Daimyo across the bay and into the old Firespray. Drash felt cold, figuring he had brought her here for some lecture, chastisement for her foul behavior. Instead the Daimyo opened two cabinets in the wall, one lined with teeth of varying sizes, the other an armory case. “When I was a boy my father sent me into a cave and told me to return with this.”

Drash looked at the enormous tooth mounted in the case. It must have been a monster of a beast.

“He was teaching me a lesson, one that we all must learn.” Looking the girl in the eye Boba waited for her focus, “We do not let fear rule us. We have a task and we accomplish it.”

He then held out a pistol, small but better quality than what she had. At his insistent look, Drash took the fine weapon and tested it's weight.

“Are there any others from that night who still live?” Boba growled.

“Yes.” Her reply was as cold as ice. She listened as Fett placed his helmet back on, the vocoder amplifying his breathing. Looking at the visor from her periphery she wondered aloud. “Why are you doing this?”

“A blaster can be replaced, a life cannot. Use it well and add to the wall,” Boba closed the cabinets again, guiding the girl back out. “And when you do we shall mourn Nova together, properly.”

“And don't forget to have Nitro give Ratty and R9 a good once over. All those patrols has their gears in a bind.” You fretted reorganizing your pack for the third time.

Nikita smirked as her eyes rolled, “Oh he's going to love that.”

“Tough.” you groused, slinging your pack on. Let's see you'd delegated meals and kitchen to Kita cat, the droids to Nitro, the others were patrolling... “Oh and Freyn needs...”

“We know Mama Kay,” Nikita could feel the stress rolling off of you. Not that they all weren't in varying frayed states. “I packed the rations and saw to the temp logs and the delivery will be here by noon. Everything's handled, tell Kaska hello for us.”

Giving the girl a hug you rounded towards the bay, “just be safe till I get back.”

Drash got up and hugged you from where she worked on her speeder as you entered the bay. Boba was conversing with Mr. Djarin. Odd duckling that one, never ate with the rest of you. Neither here nor there for now as long as he protected your kids. Because that's what they were, they were yours and not even the stars could change that. They had carved an indelible mark on your heart and higher powers help if anyone lay a finger on them. As you secured the pack you could feel a presence coming from behind you. Boba thought he could be so sneaky, but you were learning him well. “Have something on your mind?”

Boba was glowering as you started up the speeder, “Let me send one of the others.”

“Kaska won't deal with anyone else.” Shaking your head a conversation you'd had three times over, you turned to face him. Stepping closer to Boba as he lingered in the shadows like a great brooding banshee. You stood hands on hips with a bemused look. It was your first real disagreement, but this needed to be done. Holding his gaze through the helmet you sighed, “Do you trust me Boba?”

He growled, “You know I do.”

“Then let me do this for you, please.” Reaching up to stroke affectionately at the heart on his chest plate, you tried to soothe him. His own large hand came to clasp around your fingers. Even with the helmet you could tell there was something haunting him, quite painful too. Whatever it was would not deter you though, “I'll go to Mos Eisley, get what we need, and be back before sundown. I'm taking the old bantha trails along the B'omar flats, no one goes that way and it's very protected.”

“Doesn't mean I have to like it,” Boba's voice was rough even to his ears. This was a dangerous precipice that his little tribe found themselves upon, a crossroads. One wrong move...

“No, you don't have to like it.” Tracing your finger along the side of his helmet you gently pressed a kiss to the cool metal. That is until he raised the helm to kiss you properly. Deepening it with a sweep of his tongue, you hummed in satisfaction. Once he'd lowered he helmet again you pressed your forehead to his. “I'll be extra careful, besides I have a good reason to get back quickly.”

“Oh, do you now?” Boba mused flirtatiously, gazing into your golden orbs. Eyes that smiled and laughed with life.

“Yes.” Smirking, your fingers teased the back of his cowl, “He's tall and handsome and likes my cooking...”

“Like more than that cyare,” Stubborn little Cookie, but it was a gamble he had to take. They were in short supply of ordinance and the Pikes had ceased any further shipments getting through. As you mounted the speeder he gave your hand a last, lingering squeeze. “Be quick.”

Drash had left, seeing you being affectionate made her gag. Din on the other hand stayed in the dark corner to observe. For as cold and calculating as Fett was reputed, seeing him with the small female was intriguing. As soon as your speeder dissipated into the distance though, Fett returned to his normal self. Clan did that, found those parts of you long forgotten or hidden away. Made you remember the person you wanted to be.

“Didn't you have somewhere to be Djarin,” Boba grumbled as he stalked back to the throne room.

Din's eyes followed the older hunter, humming to himself as he readied his ship for takeoff. The woman was far smarter than she let on and probably more than capable. Still, the sands had taken far more formidable beings in the past. He hoped to see her after his visit to Vanth. If for no other reason than she was a rarity in his and Fett's world.

“Peli, you in there?”

“Hold your banthas!” Raising her goggles to slide out from under the hulker that the Jawas had brought in, Peli Motto glanced across the bay to your smiling face. “You know I'm trying to run a business here, hardly get anything done with everybody in lately. First that custom job for... well never mind.”

“You're just too in demand!” Laughing at your friends boisterous attitude you walked around her many little mechanical friends to hold a wrapped package between you. “And what if I said I brought a little something extra for your troubles?”

Taking the package and sniffing, the odd little woman opened the string. Cackling in delight at the assorted treats, Peli was quick to put her casual business face back on. “Then I'd say I also found those parts you were after and that our mutual friend is around the corner.”

“There's a reason you're the best mechanic in the parsec,” Walking to the far corner of the second bay there he sat, waiting with his wares. Kaska had always been an odd creature from the day he'd walked into your cafe all those years ago. Much like then he sat, robes drawn around his body and respirator wheezing, all while carefully carving little figurines out of Bantha horn. Drawing closer you watched as the small piece took on shape.

Kaska had wandered the Dunes since the time before the Empire came. New Republic, Empire, old Republic, outlanders coming to try to claim that which had always belonged to his people. Some called the tribes Tuskins, after the battle of one of their settlements. But it was an outlanders name, not one that his people laid claim to. His tribe had long ago settled among the spires, keeping at bey the outlanders who only sought to take. More often they chose to keep the peace, but sometimes there were trespassers, those who should not be there. Unfortunately his own tribe paid a terrible price for choosing a path of violence against an ignorant innocent.

An innocent who had summoned a demon to exact revenge for her death. A demon who had slain them with the power of the suns itself. So few had survived that night, hiding in the crags of the cliffs and in nearby caves. After that the tribe had thought twice before any outsider was harmed, instead trading and selling, but always keeping to themselves.

It was partially from such dealings that his original trade agreement with the Manu woman had begun. Trading in melons and other dessert goods in exchange for money or food. Trading turning to an amicable friendship, the female having learned their language and even some of their customs. Customs which she was observing now, staying back a pace where he could see. Turning, Kaska set his tools aside and began to sign. “It's been a long time since you've asked such a favor of me.”

“I know and I don't ask it lightly.” At the old warriors signal you sat on the opposite crate and continued. “A storm is coming, your people and mine are in danger.”

“You work for the one in the Mesra Palace, one who walks both paths.”

Nothing surprised you much and it didn't surprise you that Kaska knew of your new employer. It was his turn of phrase describing Boba that tickled at intrigue. Something that you'd observed of Boba from your first meeting, that he fought and even moved like a Tuskin. That Kaska called him such was confirmation. Piqued, you couldn't help to question, “Do you know him?”

“His tribe was familiar to us,” Kaska let out a heavy sigh as his fingers punctuated his next words, “slaughtered by the off worlders.”

Nodding agreement you studied as Kaska paused.

“...Why do you fight for this Man?” Kaska observed as a smile fought to curve your lips. There was affection there perhaps, but enough to call upon his aid?

“Mok Shaiz has brought the Pike Syndicate to Tattoine. They will kill all of us, whether we fight or not, and bleed the planet for whatever they want. Someone has to defend the people.” choosing your words just as carefully as Kaska, you shook your head. “The Daimyo is trying to see a better way for all of the people on Tattoine. He wants to drive the Pike away, permanently. He wishes peace and prosperity.”

“Choosing violence always has a price young one,” Kaska saw the bitterness in your eyes, “but you know that.”

Yes, you knew all too well. “It's the only choice... the only one we've been given.”

“This is an outlanders war, we will take no part.” Standing Kaska made his way over to the cases of weapons that you'd ordered. Some of it was old Imperial issue, the rest was whatever the smugglers in Bestine, Carnthout, and Mos Taike had on hand. The old warrior had seen long ago the duality within you, two souls within. One being the kind, friendly, gentle being who cared for and loved those around them. One of peace and joy and brightness. Then there was the other, the one he'd seen born of fire and blood. A mother massif protecting her pack, a shadow. “These should aid you. I hope that we live to see this peace you speak of.”

“As do I. Perhaps you would come by the palace and I can cook for you again?” Detonators, rifles, hand blasters, a few scatter guns and belt blasters, but it was the fire bombs that caused your attention to shift. Delicate hand blown glass containing a chemical mixture that reacted at the first second of oxygen exposure. These in particular were a product of the sands as much as the hands that made them. Taking one of the delicate orbs in hand you rolled it carefully, like a witch scrying with a crystal. “These are your personal stock...”

“The outlanders have been venturing into our lands. Killing our herds and all in their wake,” Kaska picked up his carving and continued to scrape out the figure hidden in the ivory horn. Every piece told a different story, fortune or ill omen. The one he carved now was a mystery, but it told him of a battle. For your people or his own Kaska was not certain. “We will not fight your war, but if you stop them all the better.”

“The enemy of my enemy. We've long been friends though, haven't we Kaska.” Giving a half grin and a dark hum you carefully lay the incendiary orb in its case. Yes, you and the old dune traveler had long been allies, if not for him and Garza you'd have been dead and long buried.

Along with so many others...

As much as the native people of Tattoine did not like off worlders, there was a symbiotic relationship at times among the common folk. Uneasy, painful, but always there. Some ethos crossed all species and language.

To defend your home.

To protect the young and the old.

Not to steal nor cheat in ones dealings.

Striding over you pulled another parcel from your satchel. Normally you didn't have the bartering items that Kaska sought, but today you would be paying him for more than just this load. Some of this was long due and it warmed your soul. “Some of this is from me and some is from Daimyo Fett.”

“These are not easy to find,” Kaska bypassed the credits and treats, instead grasping at the small container of amber gems. The glass developed slowly as the suns baked the sand, a single bead was considered a treasure. Many of his tribe exchanged these small gems on occasions of births, deaths, marriage, and even treaties. That this was included was not only generous, but also was a gesture of diplomacy. “This is gratitude?”

“This is good faith. Boba said that these should be with the people of the dunes.”

The new Daimyo sending desert glass as a sign of friendship was profound and Kaska was impressed. Rising, the old warrior gathered his things and motioned you to walk with him. As he took his mount Kaska leveled you with another long stare. And there it was, the shadow in your eyes that told him all he needed know. With a nod and a gentle nudge, Bantha and rider began the trek home. What the next dawn brought only the Suns knew.

Peli had already hitched the trailer and had her droids load the additional cargo. She was as fast and accurate as she was crazy, and really you wouldn't have your friend any other way.

“Now I know you got some... 'precious cargo' on board here,” Peli had lowered her voice while making quotations in the air. “So I took the liberty of adding some additional buffers and stabilizers to the rigging. Hey, don't give me that look! You're the one drives like a eiope with it's ass on fire.”

“The last time you took liberties I had whiplash for a week!”

Peli scoffed, “Because this baby slowed down for lack of tune up!”

“Because you forgot to mention the new cutouts!” both of you staring at the other till stern glares turned to fits of laughter. “Honestly Peli why do you stick around here? Could be running the whole new republic fleet or at least your own station.”

A cackle escaped the older woman as her wild mane of hair was thrown back, “Sweet Maker why would I want that headache? Bad enough these new Republic code enforcement snooping around, where would my profit margins go if I had to pay all those licensing fees! Naw, I was made for this place and it was made for entrepreneurs like you and me sister.”

“Well I can't argue that,” With a sad smile you gave Peli a tight squeeze, unsure when or if you would see her again. Pulling away reluctantly you straddled the speeder and began the start up sequence. Swallowing any fear down you smirked at Pele. “You just take care of yourself Miss Motto. Come visit me when the smoke clears, yeah.”

“Ah, you know I will and I'll bring the Sabac deck. Keep an eye out for anymore Fire Spray parts too,” Peli played off her worry. Wouldn't do any good anyway, situation was going to be whatever it was going to be. If she were the betting type though, the credits wouldn't be on her friend or the bounty hunter. Pikes were known to be vicious. Even as good as Fett was reputed to be... Well she could hope for the best. Never the less a friend in need was still a friend in need and let it never be said that Peli Motto was a poor friend.

Still it wasn't promising from what all she saw and knew. With that she turned and headed back into the hangar. “Alright boys breaks over! Get those parts restocked and you! Get into that oil bath before your servos burn out AGAIN!”

“You tell your spice runners that Tattoine is closed for business. This planet's seen enough violence...”

The man had guts, Bane had to admit it. Foolish but principled, such a shame. Then there was the itchy trigger finger of a deputy. Now that one was in it for the name, not the job. The marshal was the real competition, the boy was scraps. Drawing back his long coat the Duros kept his cards to the vest, “You should have never given up your armor.”

The deputy drew first, clumsily. Bane was able to down the Marshal before he leveled the other man with four well placed center shots. When the dust settled and the bodies lay crumpled on the ground, he turned to the few who dared poke their heads out. “Tattoine belongs to the Syndicate. As long as the spice keeps running, everyone will be left alone.”

Bane turned and strode to his transport, unhurried and uncaring for the destruction in his wake. He was hired for a job and he would be paid well. As his ship rose in altitude he reported in, “Vanth will no longer be a problem. Has team two reported in on the woman?”

The suns would be setting soon, admittedly Din hadn't been certain as to when the little cook would return. The fact that Shand had asked him to go looking for Ms. Manu warranted concern. So he'd flown out, skirting along the Dune Sea looking for signs of your speeder.

And a good thing he had.

“Oh that's not good,” He muttered seeing a large black plume coming from one of the mesa rims. Circling round he could see two wrecked out speeders. Going down for a landing he surveyed the tracks in the sand and the blood with them. Blue green, not human.

PING PING PING

A quick succession of fire had the Mando diving for cover. “Who's there?”

“Mr. Djarin?”

It was a weak reply from high in the rocks, but Din was able to use the helmet's internal display to zero in. “I'm here!”

“Watch out! The other one's still out there...” You were perched up in the wind hewn cliffs, out of breath but alive. There was enough for cover but just so. You'd been stuck up there for a few hours. No water, no communications. Next time you'd let Boba send someone else.

If you survived this to have a next time.

“Stay where you are I'll come to you...” Din's words were cut short as the wounded Pike soldier came raging out of the canyon wall. Dodging left and right the two beings exchanged volley after volley of blows. Din redirected the finhead into the sharp rock creating distance. To close for the whistling birds and there were two many loose cliff sheaf's for a percussive blast. Pulling the blade from his boot the Mandalorian began to slice at his opponent. Blow after blow, cut for cut the Pike was an adequate fighter.

Not good enough for the years of his training though.

Din finally had the slime back, drawing him in and grabbing his cowl. As quickly as the fight had started it was done, the Pike falling to the ground with the silver blade sticking out of it's neck. Panting for breath Din hollered up to you, “All clear.”

Scrambling down the cliffs on cramped legs was no easy feat. Shaky and stumbling you came alongside your armored savior. It could have been so much worse all things considered. “... you ok?”

“No worse for wear,” Din could see the bruising and scrapes where the blood had dried. You were upright and fighting though and that was something. “Are you alright?”

You shrugged, “Been worse. God I hope they didn't get to the payload.”

The speeder was a mess but still functional as was the trailer. Din quickly reasoned that he should fly escort at low altitude the rest of the journey as you limped the cargo home. It had been a slow, tense journey. Like prey chased to their burrow, tails between their legs.

Sputtering into the bay you relaxed as the doors came down. “Holy Kark, I need a drink and a shower... scratch that food, drink, then shower. You hungry Mr. Djarin?”

Din shook his head, “I do not eat in front of others.”

“Seriously? The least I can do is make you something.” Dusting your suit off you looked pleadingly at the man. “You saved my life, Boba would never forgive me for letting you go hungry.”

Din could see that the little woman would not take no for an answer. “I cannot remove my helmet in front of others.”

“That's why we have straws, come on I'll make you a smoothie,” Walking back to your domain of control you trusted that the odd man would follow. Washing up you tossed jorgans, pallies, mellon, and berries into a blender with blue yogurt and ice. Mr. Djarin sat dutifully at the counter waiting as you poured the concoction. Dropping an extra long straw into his, you pushed the glass across the surface. “Here's to another day on this side of the dirt...”

“They were hunting you, specifically.” angling the straw up under the armor he saw as your eyes darkened.

“Mr. Djarin...”

“Din.” He replied easily as the first sip hit his tongue. Cool, sweet and refreshing. It was more than mere confection though, there was something nutritional, filling even. Chugging half the glass he realized you had quirked a brow at the informality. “You may use my name, if you wish.”

“Very well, Din.” You smirked at the hunter. Like an onion this one, layer after layer. “And yes I know. I'm only surprised it took them this long.”

Tilting his helmet to the side, “Why?”

"Well, let's just say... the Mayor doesn't like me."

“Ner Me'suum'ika?” Boba stormed into the kitchen. Fennec had called once you were found. He'd flown the Slave I over the south basin three times searching when you hadn't returned. Boba cursed himself a fool for ever letting you leave, for not going with you. He was going to cuff you to the bed and that was final. No more leaving the Palace till this was finished, no going on the balcony where you could be sniped. He wanted you safe, damn it. With a rumbling sigh of displeasure at your state, he was also relieved for your safety. “Are you injured?”

“I'm fine,” You tried to keep smiling as he looked you over. At his grumbling you shrugged guiltily. “A little scratched up, but thanks to your friend, I'm safe.”

“I'll be the judge of that, come on.” With a nod you sighed and headed toward the tower dutifully. Turning back to Djarin, Boba gave a nod. “Thank you.”

“Gar riduur, kaysh kar'ta hettir.” Din rose to retire for the evening, clapping the older man on the shoulder bell. “Gar Aliit et kotyc.”

“Tug'yc, vor entye” Boba couldn't help the slight smirk at Djarins words. He was proud of you, frustrated by your stubbornness but proud. It wasn't till he was removing his armor for the night that the title the other Mandalorian used for you struck him.

His riduur...

Translations (Mando'a unless otherwise annotated):

Finhead and Slime Back- Derogitory terms to refer to fish species; completely made up but comon tongue... Eh sue me.

Gar riduur, kaysh kar'ta hettir- your spouse, their heart burns

Gar Aliit et kotyc- Your clan is strong

Tug'yc- again

Vor entye- thank you

Ner Me'suum'ika- my moon

E chu ta!- (huttese)- shit/damn/crap/etc

Tags: @the-rain-on-kamino @pickleprickle @daimyosprincess @kimiheartblade @acatalystrising

[lieutenant-teach]

Wandering around the galaxy, ex-Commander Cody and little Din Djarin meet an unexpected adversary, and Cody learns about a new burden he acquired unknowingly. 2/3 part (1 part), (part 3).

Cody enjoyed the planet Trask - being away from the Core Worlds, it remained unscathed by the Clone Wars; being small, not densely populated and lacking valuable resources, it wasn’t occupied by the Empire that aimed at most important and valuable planets and systems. No matter how much Cody disliked the Outer Rim for its mostly criminal population and their shady occupations, now he was glad to catch some breath in there.

Especially while he had a kid on his hands.

Din turned out to be a not very problematic child, though quite different from the cadets on Kamino. Not physically trained, which is a huge minus when you’re on the run. But, like a cadet, he didn’t complain about lack of comfort and stability in such life, though Cody tried his best to provide him with food better than rations. Regrettably, it required more sallies on the surfaces of various planets, thus it was more dangerous for both of them. Cody shuddered from a mere thought what the Empire would do if they were caught.

Apart from physical comfort, Cody attempted to give at least a little bit of emotional comfort to the kid. At times Din woke up crying, and Cody held him until the boy fell asleep again, exhausting himself from tears. At these moments Cody felt like breaking apart a bit every time, pressing Din to the chest, listening to his occasional whimpering in his sleep. The kid deserved a normal life, not all of this disaster happening to the Galaxy.

He felt both proud at a little brave cadet and bitter at a child forced to grow up too quickly when Din asked to teach him shooting.

They’d spent several days in the town in some kind of a ratty tavern, avoiding unnecessary questions and suspicions, as they easily passed for a father and a son due to similar complexion and hair and eye colour. Cody worried that he would be recognized for his distinct face, but not yet – the locals had never acquainted a Jango Fett clone before, and all the Republican propaganda portrayed troopers only in full armour, a very clever way to erase personalities. Though he continued to pull down the hood when walking the streets – just in case.

When one day they met someone from Cody’s past. Or, more precisely, from Kenobi’s past.

Cody felt someone was watching them. So did Din – the boy was glancing around nervously and squeezing Cody’s hand tighter. Cody lowered another hand near the blaster; if the follower was daring enough, they’d shoot right in the centre of the market brimming with unsuspecting citizens. And then he recognized a face in the crowd, watching him like a hawk. He raised an eyebrow, the person nodded to the street corner nearby, inviting for a talk.

– Where did you take the kid? – she attacked him with a low voice as soon as they turned the angle. Din hid behind Cody at the harshness.

– Hello there, Duchess Kryze, - Cody answered curtly. – I deserted.

– And still wearing their armour? – her hand was hovering over her own blaster, her posture tense as a nexu ready to strike.

– Better something than nothing, - he shrugged. – Why are you here? – He thought with regret that they’d have to leave the planet – if he met Bo-Katan Kryze, an heiress of Mandalore, who knows who else might hang around there.

– Why should I believe you? – she gripped her blaster, ignoring his query. – Who’s to say you don’t want to… - her eyes widened, she even took a step back. – How did you get it?!

– What? – Cody was taken aback, then he moved his free hand that wasn’t covering Din to the hilt of a saber on his belt.

– The Darksaber. How did you get it? – she hissed, her face twisting with anger.

Losing the blaster while fighting off the pirates intending to ransack your ship and sell the kid you take care of into slavery wasn’t fortunate. There were just too many for one man, as tough as Cody was – if not for Din’s shout ‘Cody! There!’ and him throwing something he dug seconds before from the mud. First Cody thought it was some dagger, but when the air hissed and enlightened with a brilliant black blade shining white on the razor-sharp edges and producing threatening buzz – he realized it was something different. Lucky him, he still remembered several lightsaber-wielding lessons General Kenobi gave him back during the war.

The saber was heavier than the General’s, almost non-cooperative, his first swings were clumsy and messy. But Cody knew he had to protect the kid, and with each movement the blade became lighter and lighter.

Still, Cody preferred non-Jedi weapons. So after fighting he disengaged it and clipped to a familiar spot on his belt – again, just in case of an attack. There weren’t many helpful blades conveniently lying around and waiting to be picked up during a skirmish, after all.

– Found it, - he shrugged again, playing nonchalant, mentally working out the ways of retreating.

Bo-Katan squeezed the fists, she was burning with barely controlled rage, though Cody couldn’t understand the reason. He remembered vaguely it was some Mandalorian weapon of historical significance – maybe, that was why she was so unhappy? She wanted a part of her culture back.

– You have no claim to this sword! – Bo-Katan raised her voice, then caught herself at a possibility of attracting unwanted attention of the passers-by and continued a bit softer: - This is a Mandalorian weapon, not designed for such like you! You have no right to wield it!

– I don’t have any ‘claim’, and you’re scaring the kid, - Cody intoned his ‘commander’ voice that some especially impressionable troopers called ‘regal’. Din mumbled ‘I’m not scared’ from behind his back and stepped a bit forward as if ready to confront Bo-Katan by himself. She threw a dirty look at the boy and turned her attention to Cody again, looking at him with thinned lips and narrowed eyes.

– According to an old Mandalorian tradition, whoever wields the Darksaber has the claim to the Mandalorian throne. But only in case of an honest fight.

– Duchess, I never intended to get involved in Mandalorian politics, - Cody felt an unpleasant feeling that despite his wishes he was getting tangled into something quite unsavory. – You can take the saber and overthrow your Governor Saxon or whatever, I’m not a part of it. – He knew this woman wasn’t sharing the peaceful policy of her sister, but frankly (and quite meanly) Cody didn’t give a flying kark about Mandalore. He knew these people had always had civil wars now and then ignited by their biggest ruling clans, and it couldn’t be worse than the Imperial occupation now. He even felt pity for Mandalorian citizens if all they wanted was to live in peace. Although, New Mandalorians were a very fresh change as per info he read, but the peace historically never lasted long on Mandalore.

But also there was one thing that turned almost all the clone troopers off while mentioning Mandalorians.

– I cannot just ‘take it’, - Bo-Katan spat and raised her chin proudly. – A true Mand’Alor must win it in a battle. Fairly speaking, I even feel insulted challenging such a disgrace to a Mandalorian. Dar’manda.

– Disgrace? – For one small second Cody’s stomach fell of rising fury born out of utter hypocrisy of this woman who had her opinions shared by all her compatriots. He didn’t even notice Din flinching as his voice dropped so low it was freezing cold as Hoth. – Did I ask to be created like this? Did any of us have any say in it? You dare to call me ‘soulless’ – where were you? – He stepped forward almost menacingly. – Where were you all, when millions of Mandalorian clones were being created and used in a war and discarded when ‘defective’, used as chipped puppets to kill the Jedi, who actually cared about us? So noble, so proud, so honorable Mandalorians – did you care about us? We, born Mandalorian, were never ever considered by all of you even as sentients, much less a part of you. We protected you – and you call me ‘disgrace’? Just because we were unfortunate enough to have some Mandalorian as our donor?

Bo-Katan clearly never expected such harshness and such words, moreover, it never ever crossed her mind – she even backed a bit, looking at Cody with surprise.

– You say this sword makes me your king? – Cody grabbed it from his belt and squeezed in his hand. – Who would even want to be your king? A people, who cannot live peacefully even on their own planet! Tearing themselves apart time and time again because of what – difference in traditions? At least we had a community – we, ‘disgraces’, as you love to call us.

Bo-Katan blinked, as if really seeing Cody for the first time. Cody exhaled sharply, only now realizing he was shaking with helpless rage – of unfairness, of disgust, of all this pain never noticed by the Republic. He steadied himself, composing his expression again. Glanced at Din, who was looking at him with a weird mixture of compassion, fear and determination. 

– Take the sword, Lady Kryze, - Cody held out the hilt. – I reclaim my responsibilities that I obtained unknowingly.

– I cannot, - she didn’t hold out her own hand. – Challenge is obligatory.

– Then let the Empire and its minions continue ruining your people. Whatever, Duchess, - he threw the Darksaber into the mud to her feet. – I’ve said my piece.

[thewriterowl]

So, I'm exhausted and stressed and can't focus fully on writing fan fiction but seems ready to unleash creative spew on the SW-series we have gotten and how it could've been SO much better. I wanted to start with one, the one that seemed to have been the trigger of this weird ripple of poorly written series and see if I can unleash more for others (Not you Andor, you are perfection)

Book of Boba Fett

Scrap Din. Completely. Remove him. He doesn't even touch the show. Mentioned is acceptable, maybe even a sort of cameo where Fennec comes in to see Boba talking to him but hears nothing as they disconnect. Boba makes some note on what Djarin is doing as a way to express how much time has passed since the end of Season 2 of the Mandalorian. Maybe. But that's it.

Instead, there will be more memories opening up the episodes, even after Boba heals and is back to true form. For one, I think it would be beneficial to show a bit more young-Boba and show how angry and hateful and scared he was after Jango's death (let's get some re-makes of Clone War scenes) and how it shows his anger is consuming him. Show clips of him connected with Cad Bane and the dent in his helmet. Give little pieces to show how he went from that very angry and feral child to the rather composed man in Empire Strike's Back-Return of the Jedi to where he is now.

The tension of the politics are stretched out more. We will see Boba trying to actually take on a leadership role as Daimo but has the urge to be like he was before. And it's only when he starts allowing more of his self out does the good leader really blossom (ie. his brilliance of having the dinner above the supposed empty cage). He can even have conversations with Fennec of, "I was reckless and stupid with my anger before. And I got a face full of a scars and a head with less hair because of it." With her, ever the snarky wise one, going, "Being angry doesn't mean you be stupid."

Street kids are good, but not with the motorbikes. I feel they should've been more like the one character Kenobi met (his daughter in real life) who was telling him to get high and forget his problems--it's easier that way. They felt too punk and it was out of place for this planet at this time. They steal, maybe Robin Hood things here and there but are mostly out for their own group and themselves; exactly how Boba and Fennec were just a short time ago. Fennec could even connect to that girl and scoff in memory, "You're tough...I met a kid just like you on a job before" and now we have the presences of Omega within this series and how important she is here and not just in a singular location and can give audience the hope Omega and Boba will one day meet (season 3 of Bad Batch sorta helping confirm or deny this). While Boba is able to connect and warn them to not be like him and let their anger and hatred fool them into trusting arrogance. maybe someone makes a point, or maybe Boba realizes it himself, but this sounds very Jedi-esque and that haunts him.

Boba spent so many years hating the Jedi (mainly Mace) so having these moments of maturity would make him pause. It would end, of course, with him denouncing the belief because he is Mandalorian, like his father before him, and not everything is about the Jedi, because he fully believes in revenge and anger just not like how he used to. Now, he controls it. It doesn't control him. And he can let his hate for the Jedi finally go (ghost Mace, who was probably watching him the whole time is so relieved and lets the man go as well; not in the show but just in my heart).

The Tribe is not dead and, instead, at least a few survived (ie the child and the warrior and a few others; we did not get that incredible train scene for them to be all killed off camera) and we see Boba, who is dealing with the trauma of everything in his life, have a moment where he breaks down and apologizes to them (maybe not anything specific; maybe not really to them but to his younger self who never had a chance) seeing this as his fault. They forgive him, cause he needs forgiveness in some way, and offer him a home within their smaller tribe but he isn't ready for that and they accept it. Now, they are the ones who return to him and assist him in the final battle. This will also lead up to where it comes full circle for him. He will offer them a place within the city but they do not accept (they are a colonized people after all; I do not see them wanting to be within that city) and instead are welcomed to his territory as a home-base to return to should they ever wish and they part on good terms and promises of seeing each other again. It would end with Boba watching them leave into the setting suns, feeling longing but also a sensation of peace that they were going where they should go and he was where he was needed. So, he turns from them as they disappear into the melting suns and grunts out, "Just a simple man who made his way in the universe." And FIN.

We can keep a lot of the other craziness--he has his Rancor (i love this part of the story), he deals with corrupt politicians, Peli meets her next boy-toy cause Din (name cameo) suggested her for Boba's use, Black Krrsantan is in the picture, Cad Bane is the big bad who shoots down Vanth (and that final end scene is still there), and so many other ridiculous parts! They could all connect and make sense!

And there can be this theme that is trying to beat Boba over the head about anger. Because we have seen anger so much through the eyes of Jedi--this can really be a new type of accepting and letting things go. More akin to the anger we see constantly simmering and boiling over in Andor but in a more personal way and showing that it doesn't need to be snuffed out but honed (controlled). It can be why Boba seems so mild at times, it's because he is learning about who he is to be, but then is able to show us the (fan) Boba that was so popular is still there--he's just someone who is trying to fill a role he thinks he has to completely change for.

[dragonrider9905]

It's Officially Christmas

Merry Christmas @toomanybandstocare!!!! I'm your secret santa for @ghostofskywalker's Life Day Exchange for the @cloneficgiftexchange! Ironically, it also works out for the @clonexreaderbingo because Cody was on my card as well as one you requested :D I really hope you like it. It wasn't quite how I wanted it, because I love love love expanding stories so they go one forever but I ran out of time. This is just a bit of fluff and happiness for the Christmas season!!! Hope you're having a good one!

Cody sighed with an exhale, rubbing circles on his forehead, just tracing the scar around his eye he had gotten during his active military duty. Highly decorated, Colonel “Commander” Cody of the Armed Forces was currently struggling to complete his college semester still holding onto his sanity intact. Christmas was close, which meant fun and freedom were just in sight.

And to be honest, he could use some. It had been quite some time since he’d felt either of those things. 

Just the previous year, he’d been discharged early from the military due to family hardships. His adoptive father, Ninety-Nine, had fallen seriously ill which resulted in much limited mobility and flagging health, though he was stubbornly holding on. Ninety-Nine was tough in his own way and not easily knocked down and never let his disabilities limit him. He honestly was one of Cody’s biggest heroes for just that fact alone. No one was more inspiring than Ninety-Nine. 

To top off the struggle, his half-brother, Fives, was killed in action, while his other half-brother, Echo, was seriously wounded. This had dampened (but not destroyed) Ninety-nine’s spirits which slowed his healing. Cody had come back to take care of the family broken by loss.

The family. 

And what a family it was: a mix-matched group of boys and a sickly older man but they belonged together. 

Ninety-nine had taken care of all the Fett boys in some way or another after they’d been abandoned by their father Jango. He’d been the one to find Plo Koon who fostered and eventually adopted Wolffe, Sinker and Boost—but he’d raised under his own roof a rowdy bunch which included himself, Rex, Fives, Echo, and the Quadruplets (Cody didn’t know if technically Se or Fett was more accurate for them) soon nicknamed ‘the bad batch’.

And it was these that Cody called family. Home. It wouldn’t be complete totally again, but they could heal — and he’d do whatever he could, nay, he wouldn’t rest, until they did.

More than anything Cody wanted to take care of Ninety-nine, especially in the beginning. And that he did, but because Cody was an overachiever—he’d signed up for college classes as well. Then he added a job on the side to match; a small part of him regretted it. It was getting to be a lot, but joining the military right out of high school wasn’t easy either, so if he could make it then, he could do this now, he reasoned. 

That was a year ago now, and Ninety-Nine was finally on the mend. 

This year would be special, since everyone—well almost everyone—was going to be home. The first year since they’d all left, that they’d be back. 

They’d be back. Home, and together again.

Like they should be.

Echo was finally released from the hospital, healing from his extensive injuries and adjusting to his prothstetics, and the quadruplets’ tour was finally over. Though none of them were injured, it wasn’t without repercussions either.   

“Hurry up, Cody, or we’ll be late!” a shout broke him from his musings. “And don’t forget the basket!”

The Fetts were on their way to a dance—a Christmas dance—hosted by their longtime family friends the Jetti’s, and there was going to be an auction for charity, sleigh rides, and everything, as they did every year. Ninety-Nine insisted on bringing something to join the auction every year and this was no exception. Even when they couldn’t make it to the dances, Ninety-Nine was giving something.  

Cody wasn’t much of a dancer. He never cared to go to them much. But for some reason he was really looking forward to it this year. Perhaps because it was Christmas, and magic had a way of creeping into people’s ordinary lives, transforming into something beautiful and new. 

And it was this Christmas hope that kindled something warm inside his heart, and excitement. 

— — — — — 

The room was alive with flashes of color and the sound of music, laughing and cheering. The pitter pattering of feet was just as loud as the happiness of those in the room excitedly making known to each other through various conversations and well wishes. Quick steps made their own rhythm and stories which echoed off the dance floor. 

It was at this moment you felt beautiful, standing under the Christmas lights and bathing in the general glee and spirit of the room. Your throat squeezed as if holding in a laugh and a smile pulled at your lips so much your mouth hurt, but in a good way. The Christmas magic worked its way through your veins. The tingling of invincible tinsel tickled your fingertips, an energy flowing through you which was contagious. Smiles you sent to others were easily returned and frowns turned upside down. 

It was at this particular moment, the Fett family walked in. 

The name wouldn’t have meant much to you in normal circumstances. Why would that name stick out among so many others who were there? 

But you had a reason for knowing it, and his name was Cody. 

You saw him leading his train of brothers in through the door, guiding the old man by the arm. He flashed his charming smile to the host and exchanged hands. 

The music started up again and your sister grabbed your hand, dragging you into the ring or people forming a group dance with interchanging partners. You had to focus, otherwise you’d lose your step. 

It was only two seconds, but in those two, the entire Fett family was dispersed throughout the room and you lost all track of where Cody had gone. 

— — — 

Moving lithley, you kept up with the music and the people twirling and leaping around you. The dance went in a circular motion and patterns were interchanged. You clapped and danced and laughed along with everyone else, pushing yourself to go faster and faster as the song was ending.

Twirling and twirling you finished with a bang.

You looked up and saw you were in Cody’s arms, who looked just as shocked as you did to see you there. 

Then he froze there, mouth slightly agape. His eyes danced across your face and his slight panting may have been more than just catching his breath from the dance. He swallowed nervously.

“Um, hello.” He stuttered nervously.

“Hello yourself,” you smiled  back reassuringly, “nice to run into you.”

Cody chuckled a little at that, then a silence fell between the two of you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare! It’s just...you look so beautiful underneath the holiday lights.” 

You chuckled at his embarrassed realization. Cody turned pink and looked like he wanted to cave in on himself, which you had to say was really adorable and made you laugh harder. The thought of the brave warrior being startled into a stuttering school boy because of you.

The sound of your laughter filled the air with a contagious glint of mirth. Soon, Cody found himself laughing too. 

The music started up again and people took their places all around the two of you. 

“Would you, um, care to go again?” he asked, holding out his hand. 

“Gladly!” 

Not just one song but two that soon turned into three. When you were tired, you headed off to the corner to drink hot cocoa and watch the others. You were so caught up in talking to each other that you hadn’t realized that the time ran late into the night. It was near midnight when you sighed and looked at your watch. 

“Well, I’ll see you around.” You finally said a little sadly. Just because Christmas was around the corner didn’t mean all the work was done. You had one more paper to write before you were free. 

“I hope so!” He responded genuinely which just made you laugh again.

“Oh you definitely will. I sit two rows behind you and three seats to your left in class.” 

Cody gawked. 

You couldn’t have?! He’d surely have noticed you?!

“I even asked you for notes once. And, you also asked me for notes once too.”

His mind was racing, trying to think back to those times to verify the claims with his memory. 

You chuckled lightly. 

“I don’t expect you to remember though. You were always very preoccupied, with good reason. Your cousin, Waxer, told me the whole story.”

Big mouth Waxer. Could have counted on him to blab the whole story to everyone (though in this case Cody was grateful he did, not that he would admit that.)

“I have to say, I would have done anything for you. You had to just give me a chance.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to be so drastic, darling,” he smirked, “I’m here now, and I’m all yours. After class tomorrow, would you want to go skating?”

"It's a date!"

Now, it was officially Christmas.