#when i wrote about jaster and jango

[notthestarwar]

i hope that you guys know that when i talk about love i'm not talking about romance. i'm talking about a thing that goes beyond the boundaries of 'romantic' or 'familial' or 'platonic'. it's the thing that lives inside of all of us, thats inate in all human beings. its not about your relationship to that person. its about finding a thing, or a animal or a person, and feeling something ancient for them, in spite of your relationship. when people talk about romantic love they often arent actually talking about love. its a copy of a copy.

theres something inside all of us, that in the right circumstances will have you do the impossible to try and save someone, or even just to show them a bit of kindness when you know they cant be saved. you dont need to share blood for that to come in to being, you dont need to be attracted to them, you dont even need to like them. sometimes, something happens to bring it out in you and then its just there. you want the best for them (even if you might not know what that is) and you are suddenly willing to go beyond the limits of what it means to be human to make that happen.

most of the time the circumstances of the moment dont require any supernatural feat. but if they did, you might just try. its not a conscious thing. you just would. because the moment you love someone, be they a stranger on a bus, family, your partner, your friend, or just an acquaintance of circumstance; you're unconciously reminded that to love is to BE human. we live in order to love. you'd do the impossible, because you'd do anything to keep that love alive, because if not, why are you living? why have you survived up until that point and what is the point of continuing to do so.

[cienie-isengardu]

I have already complained about the lack of sources and character development for Jaster Mereel, the supposed important figure in Mandalorian modern history. At the same time, I’m genuinely fascinated by how he was seen by Dooku, Jango Fett and Tor Vizsla. Which is not really that they have some drastically different opinions that exclude each other but rather what those characters identify with Jaster.

Let’s start with Count Dooku. The man did a great research about Jango Fett’s past before he hired the Mandalorian to become a DNA donor for the clone army. As he said to Darth Sidious, Dooku "interrogated a number of his former associates"

So, obviously, Dooku's opinion is by no means objective, literally colored by what he learned from Jaster/Jango’s allies and followers. Surprisingly there is no mention about honor that tie-in materials like to bring in regard to Jaster Mereel even though this should be the logical conclusion as the difference between True Mandalorians and barbaric Death Watch. For Dooku alone, Jaster Mereel was “reformed murderer” who "held that the Mandalorians were merely highly-paid soldiers" [JF:OS#1]

Then we have Jango who knew Jaster personally, saw him as family and held in great respect. Whale reading the Death Watch Manifesto that at some point he had in his possession, Fett wrote this:

These are lies. Jaster sought true honor, not the right to ignore laws and moral codes. Vizsla's Death Watch was nothing but a license for murder [Jango]

Jaster was an important person for Jango - so much he wanted his unalerted clone to carry on Mereel’s legacy and without doubt Jango idealized the man.

At the same time, Jango’s opinion doesn’t exactly tell us what kind of person Jaster was, more what was his goal and what he represents for Fett and other True Mandalorians.

And then we have Tor Vizsla and look, the Manifesto was written years after Jaster’s death and some time after the destruction of the True Mandalorians on Galidraan. Tor could write anything, literally any lie and slander that comes to his mind, because there were not many people around anymore who knew Jaster and even if they were remains of True Mandalorians, the book wasn’t intended to fall into their hands anyway. And what of all possible things Tor identified with Jaster? Passion.

And yes, this is very subjective point of view and opinion about Jaster - albeit I would argue Tor’s words aren’t detached from reality that much because it easily ties up with Dooku’s statement “merely high-paid soldiers�� and let's be real here, no matter how much Jango or other True Mandalorians (sources) will bring honor into discussion, honor itself is not synonymous with being morally right. But I’m gonna leave mandalorian morality for another time. 

I’m furious that Tor didn't elaborate what Jaster was so passionate about - the order and laws? Work ethics? Religion? - that he couldn’t contain passions in himself and tried to “eliminate them in everyone else”. At the same time it amazes me, because this short paragraph may imply that Tor knew Jaster from a different, maybe much more personal side. And I won’t lie, Jaster being a passionate man speaks to me, an introvert, on a very specific level (as in: not showing that side to every person around you), especially since he doesn’t appear like that in comics? For the little we could observe him through two issues, he was rather cool-headed and down to earth type of person? Being sympathetic to Jango and showing anger only once, at Montross (whom he still personally rescued despite Montross openly disobeying his orders). Passion is not something I would call comics!Mereel and in a way Tor’s words, for me, brings more humanity to Jaster than Dooku’s understanding and Jango’s glorification did.

This does not mean that Jango didn’t know Mereel well but Fett understandably idolized his mentor, especially since he was still pretty young (~14) when Jaster died and this “nostalgia” definitely affected how he remembered Mereel in his adult life. In a way I feel Jango’s opinion is for what Mereel strived (virtues) while Tor’s present humanity (flaws).

And let's not forget the History of the Mandalorians - the supposedly objective article - describes Jaster Mereel as a “deeply pious human”.

The oxford and cambridge online dictionaries say pious means “deeply religious” what I find very intrigued yet another overlooked detail. And hey, a person wouldn't fight tooth-and-nail to become reigning Mandalore without being passionate and devoted to his ideals, right? So I like to think that Jango and Tor opinions about Jaster don't contradict each other but simply present Mereel from different angles that add more depth to his otherwise not exploited character.

[feelinkeeli]

Not to derail @yukipri 's excellent recap of Galidraan post but they brought up an interesting point I wanted to expand on.

For reasons unclear to us readers, Jango decides to do a job for information on Death Watch instead of just interrogating the Governor of Galidraan for it.

Jango might have made that choice because he was Jaster's heir and Jaster wrote the Supercommando Codex; essentially a Code of Conduct and Ethics. Jango might have been following Jaster's rulebook to the point of Honor before Reason. (to pull a quote from the TVTropes page, "Quite often this kind of decent, chivalrous behavior will come at a great cost to the hero's happiness, kill them outright, or similarly leave them a destroyed human being". Which, yeah.)

On the other hand, this might just be a Mandalorian cultural aspect. We see Din in The Mandalorian agree to similar "favor for a favor" deals. Din agrees reluctantly to the egg hunt in return for his stolen ship parts and takes out the Krayt Dragon in return for Cobb Vanth willingly handing over the Mandalorian armor in his possession. Boba Fett, whose relationship with being Mandalorian is Complicated(TM), goes above and beyond to help Din rescue Grogu because they had a deal.

In Rebels, Sabine talks about how she realized what she was doing for the Empire was wrong. How she stood up and spoke out against her own actions, and she got abandoned for it. When she expected her people, especially her family, to stand by her.

In the Kotor comics, Cassus Fett takes owing Zayne Carrick a favor seriously. Staging a fake invasion with a fleet of Mandalorian ships levels of serious. Rohlan Dyre also acts similarly, though his story is pretty complicated to get into.

According to Karen Traviss, Mandalorians don't have a concept of Heroes because everyone is supposed to act proactively to protect the community.

I think overall, there's this concept that Mandalorians are a people of action but also community. That isn't ever really focused on and written out but is present across depictions of Mandalorians in Legends and Canon.

(It's a hard concept to concisely articulate because the best description for it that I can think of RPG Protagonist if an entire culture created RPG Protagonists.)

[lost-and-cursed]

Was tagged by @debellatis for a 5 favorite characters challenge:

"List five of your all time favorite characters and then tag five people to do the same. We'll see which character of the five gets voted the most loved."

Ugh... Who are all my blorbo's once more? And roughly equal in weight at that....

Curse of remembering your blorbos and Blessing of bragging about your blorbo's be upon ya

@jorisjurgen @sapphicvalkery @sockdrawerdemon @aromantisk-fagforening @jasonmantitstodd + @minahuston (cause I know you won't participate, but I dare you to prove me wrong)

A little bit of propaganda under cut because I can

Jason Todd (on the left)

Aka child vigilante turned dead turned mob boss who decided that dead enemies are better than dead you! Very inspiring. Book nerd, very crafty, attempted to steal tires from the Batmobile when he was nine, a killer, a middle brother, snarky, caring and just very petty person.

Jaster Mereel (on the right)

Aka you like your blorbos obscure. A Mandalorian. Long dead adoptive father of Jango Fett. Supposedly nerd historian, good ruler and father, and someone who wrote a ridiculously long philosophical paper on the nature of his culture, ways to preserve it and make it true to modern times.

Tobirama Senju (on the left)

Aka one of Konoha's finders. Ridiculously competent, brilliant scientist, ruthless warrior, cold to point of awkward. Loves learning?creating jutsus and his brother, if fandom to be believed the only person who thought about infrastructure when idea of making village came up.

(yes all my blorbo's are at least supposedly nerds, how did you guess it)

Urahara Kisuke (on the right)

Brilliant sassy scientist, but make him slightly evil trashfire. A lot of brain cells, none of them are figuring out morals or socialization. Had one brilliant crush, that he followed in military assassination squad, then got his own research facilities, low-key committed attrocities, effectively invented an atomic bomb, that got stolen by the villain. Yay. He's sorry though. A little. Wasn't caught on accusations of treason and build his own lab masquerading as effectively tea shop. He also has a funny hat. And a cane! Favorite war criminal what can I say

I thought about putting here hp character next, but Hp doesn't deserve rights and I mostly hallucinate chatacters from there, so instead I gonna brag about a character that quite literally isn't translated in English.

His name is Roque Alva from Reflections of Aeterna and he's at different points High General, Warlord, Duke and something between chosen one and cursed one. He's ridiculously competent, history nerd, drunk, whore and has enough sass to fell the county. He has trust issues longer than the borders he sworn to protect. He's effectively immortal because of the curse, but everyone he even remotely cares about die around him or betray him. (He also pretty sure that's because he sold his soul to devil. He didn't. It's technically perk of being divinely ordained to be king. He doesn't want to be one). He also the only sane person in the books (saving my sanity by proxy) and has ridiculously high resonance in type of thinking and existing to mine, so he's the only character I would claim kin for, so please love him or your blorbo rotator will malfunction for three weeks ^^

[bylightofdawn]

In epic fails from today, Genji was under my chair when I was at work and I rolled and I hit him with the wheel because he ran away. I didn't realize how much I'd caught him until I looked down like an hour later and found this CHUNK of pretty uniform gray hair.

I think I found the missing chunk. Oh no, I definitely found the spot, he has a bald spot on his tail. The poor baby. There's no blood or any sign of injury he just lost his dignity and an inch-long strip of hair a pencil-width wide.

I feel pretty bad but it's also kinda low key funny. His poor slutty chicken-wing arm (that's the part where the vet had to shave his arm when they catheterized him two months ago) still hasn't fully grown back in either. I started out calling it his shaved chicken wing and then I started to tease him about how his arm was slutty because it was bare and he kept flashing it at me. So it's become his slutty chicken wing arm.

Look the pandemic did weird things to all of us. I'm still mostly living my pandemic cave troll lifestyle and have now become the person who calls her cat's catheterized IV site which had to be shaved a slutty shaved chicken wing arm. Which I know makes no sense. That's the point.

I've also been shooing him away from getting under my chair so hopefully he learned his lesson.

In other news, writing is not going great tonight. I'm kinda at a bit of an impasse. I was going to write this scene with Jaster talking to the non-True Mandalorian members of his delegation but it's not going how I wanted it to. So I might just ditch it, hand-wave it and just have him rejoin Jango and the others.

It's midnight though and a part of me REALLY wants to stay up for the Mando finale but I did that for the premier and felt like death warmed over the next day. Waking up and watching it in the morning has been working for me a lot better so I'll prolly do this.

So even though I've literally written practically nothing today I think I'm just going to give myself some grace and call it a night. I found an author who wrote some fire Xedgin fic who is hella prolific and has written a bunch of ME fics for various pairings. I have them open on my tablet so I might spend the rest of the night reading their fics.

[amuser-96]

I agree with @phoenixyfriend that while there’s a lot of white New Mandalorian characters, if we’re also looking at Legends, it’s likewise true of the True Mandalorians. I mean, other than the True Mandalorians coming from Concord Dawn that is, and Jaster and Jango are the only two mentioned coming from the planet.

The thing is—Jango’s parents in Legends Canon? They’re not considered Mandalorian. So you should really take Jango’s parents off any list of poc Mandalorians that you have, because they’re not real Mandalorians. And Jango’s sister, I mean, Death Watch did forcibly made Arla into an assassin, a position that nobody else wants. Arla’s ethnicity could’ve been a major factor in making her a lowly assassin rather than a regular brain washed Death Watch member.

As stated in Karen Traviss’ Republic Commando novels, Jango (and presumably his parents) are from a Non Mandalorian “Ethnic Group” hailing from Concord Dawn. So according to Legends Canon? Concord Dawn is a planet from Mandalorian Space full of Non Mandalorians, because they’re not culturally Mandalorian.

Three guesses for why this is and your first two guesses don’t count. It’s also why the Cuy’val Dar member that taught Bacara wasn’t considered Mandalorian, he was a former Journeyman Portector from Concord Dawn. And while he spoke Concordian, a dialect of Mando’a, Cort Davin isn’t considered a Mandalorian.

And Karen Traviss? It could be said that she single handedly created the Mandalorian Culture through her world building and Legends novels. She was the one that did most of the Mandalorian World Building by word of god, and she was where many of the concepts of their culture came from.

Karen promised equality for all Mandos, a culture free from bigotry; no matter their race, species, gender, and orientation. However, she didn’t actually deliver on her promises and and wrote incredibly misogynistic and xenophobic Mando characters.

However, Jango’s ethnic group is spoken of as also “genetically Mandalorian.” Or his ethnic group shares some of the same genes, because Mandalorians and this unnamed ethnic group was said to have interbreed in the past. If you ask me—it was a way for Karen Traviss to explain away Jango’s ethnicity and how he could still be considered what she considered “genetically Mandalorian.”

And yes throughout her books the culture that’s supposed to accept anyone regardless of lineage or species has a major preoccupation with genetics. And an extremely human centric one at that.

And here’s where the Canon about Legends Mandalorians gets extremely sketchy and starts reeking of eugenics—ah, excuse me—I meant “the coincidental reinforcement of desirable genes through cultural encouragement.” A topic that’s discussed multiple times and by many of the Mandalorians throughout the RepComm and Karen’s other SW novels.

In fact, Jango and the clones’ genes were often a topic of discussion, and it often came off as incredibly racist. Whenever Jango’s accomplishments as Mand’alor were brought up, Jango’s “Mandalorian Ancestors” were attributed for his and even the clones’ success as warriors.

When it came to the troopers who decided to become farmers and support clan Skirata; it’s their ancestors that were farmers that are brought up. The implication being that the ancestors spoken of were from Jango’s indigenous ethnicity, despite these supposed ancestors literally being as close in relation as Jango’s biological parents.

There’s even a gene that makes Mandalorians such good fathers that is supposedly found in the Mandalorian genome, which allow me to remind you, the Mandalorian genome spoken of in the novels made such discussions extremely human centric. It didn’t help that Kal Skirata was exceedingly Xenophobic, not that he realized this fact…

Not only that but ‘a son’s obedience to his father’ was seen as an important part of said Mandalorian genome.

And on the topic of Jaster bringing an 8 year old Jango into war zones; Jaster did intend to keep Mandalorian traditions intact, apparently it included the tradition that Mando fathers should bring their sons onto battlefields by the age of eight, to ready them for their adulthood at thirteen.

It’s the reason why Kal’s ex-wife divorced him even. Really, the only thing Jaster changed was making mercenary work honorable, because I think it had something to do with soldiers being more honorable?

Although I detest Kal Skirata as a character, for his abuse of those he considered his sons, he did have an incredibly traumatic childhood at the hands of his Mandalorian father. In fact, in the second book in RepComm, during the scene where Kal confesses his sins to Etain; Kal does imply that even if he wanted to treat his sons differently, he doesn’t know how, because of the way he was raised.

Honestly, Kal is the epitome of “the circle of abuse continues,” instead of “breaking the cycle.”

Then there’s how Mandokar is used in relation to the regular non commando troopers, or their lack of Mandokar because of how the Kaminoans genetically modified the reg troopers to be “more docile” and “less aggressive.”

Let’s face it if you don’t have enough aggression than you’re not seen as desirable adoption Mando materiel. It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s why Jango’s “Mando Ancestors” decided to drop their Mando Culture and raised their kid Non Mando.

That is if Jango even had any Mando ancestors and Kal isn’t just talking out of his behind. Never mind how there’s a lot of condemnation of non warriors by most Mando, even if they’re supposed fellow Mandos.

"Satine should have been a villain" is just. I've seen it a few times and. Ffffff please tell me more about why you think a woman doing "my community should do less colonialism/imperialism/child abuse" is the bad guy, without revising what she, her people, or the Traditionalists whose culture (of imperialism, child soldiers, and freaking devşirme, depending on the sect) is being "ruined" by her saying "yeah, you don't get to kill people for money anymore."

Mandalorian history is filled with Mandalorian armies committing genocide, both full and cultural. Why, for the love of all that is good and holy, why would you accuse Satine of doing exactly the thing she is canonically an activist against?

People just. Take Satine's best traits. And transplant them onto Jaster Mereel.

Then they say she'd be better as a villain because she's erasing a culture whose best traits (egalitarianism, diversity, compassion, a desire to help the weak and abused) are either informed traits, wholesale fanon, OR STOLEN FROM NEW MANDALORE.

Revising canon so that the True Mandalorians aren't uncomfortably racist and killing political activists for money (see: Open Seasons) so that their portrayals match up to their stated values is fine, but... claiming the pacifist is a more interesting villain because the culture she erased is diverse and progressive in fanon is... why. Why is it more interesting to write a pacifist, progressive character as the bad guy than to explore her in the context of the deeply messed up culture she was raised in.

I just. This is a woman who is shown displaying compassion at every turn and explicitly stated to have gone through hell for her beliefs, who rations when her people do, who said "no more war" because her people killed so many and then each other.

It's so much more interesting to investigate what she went through. It's so much less pro-imperialist to just RETCON THE DEMOGRAPHICS (the way canon did) and reimagine Satine as a woman of color to ditch the White Blonde Politician weirdness than to say "actually, the gun-toting mercenaries who said things like 'the natives are poorly armed' (thanks, Jaster) are the morally best option for this culture."

Hell, there's room to go 'oh hey, Kalevala was likely a planet that was colonized, since it's not Manda'yaim, which means Satine is possibly descended from people who, like Kal Skirata, were forcibly assimilated into Mandalorian culture way back.'

Just. Why is "the pacifist activist who is on decade number three of changing her own culture from the inside to be less British/Danish/Ottoman/Mongolian/Japanese/Roman Empire-esque should be the bad guy" your go-to?

[dalekofchaos]

Boba Fett deserves better

As a Boba Fett fan, I love that they are giving him a character arc from a cold blooded killer for credits to a man of honor and respect.

As a fan of Boba Fett right now, I feel robbed?? Like I've been waiting for genuine Boba Fett content since I saw him in the OT as a kid.  Boba being more fleshed out and humanized in AOTC and TCW did help things. But Boba barely has a presence in a show called The Book Of Boba Fett

And after 4 episodes they switch to Din and have Grogu, Ahsoka and Luke cameo in a show about Boba Fett. As nice as it was to see them, why couldn't they just save that for The Mandalorian season 3? They literally have nothing to do with advancing Boba's story or the war on Tatooine. Cobb and Bane's appearances make sense cause it drives the story. Luke, Ahsoka and Grogu's didn't.

But this also feels very disrespectful of Temuera Morrison and Ming-Na Wen. Boba barely is focused on as a character. We don't learn anything about Fennec aside from how Boba saved her. Like we could have gotten Boba talking about Jango,  and Jaster Mereel(first name was in Boba's armor codex, so he's technically canon) or even letting Boba finding out about Omega. We could've learned about Fennec's past via Boba and Fennec trading stories, could've learned why and how she became an assassin and reveal the Omega situation began a slow change of heart throughout the years. But we get nothing.

We can’t even get Boba to fire his own blaster in his own show apparently. Boba Fett apparently doesn’t fire a gun once, doesn't use his jetpack when in danger, wants to show mercy to everyone, He’s also is so unaware of everyone's intentions and unsure of his enemies' moves. Boba Fett in the show keeps getting tricked/bamboozled and walked all over. Like Boba is smarter than this??? Boba knows how this game is played. Boba Fett is not allowed to be badass in his own show in the modern setting.

Having TWO whole episodes about Mandalorian centric storylines of a show they marketed as a Boba Fett centric show about Boba and Fennec Shand and it’s sidelining characters of colour in THEIR OWN SHOW.

They lied to us and they lied to Temuera. They promised us a focused on Boba Fett series about Boba’s change of heart and ruling as a just ruler and they gave up halfway through and made it Mando 2.0. Like...I KNOW this was fucking Filoni’s doing. This asshole was the one who wrote it in that Jango and Boba wasn’t Mandalorians(yes the character responsible for creating Mandalorians is not Mandalorian) and Boba’s appearances in TCW, at least during the Ventress Bounty Hunting episode did more harm than good. I knew something like this would fucking happen with Filoni helming a Boba Fett show...

Boba appearing and not having speaking lines in this episode felt malicious to me. Like they heard the complaints about the last episode and just amped it up by having him appearing for a few minutes and not speaking.

I feel bad for Temuera Morrison. Like imagine getting to return as Boba Fett and being the star of your own show. But all you do is walk around a desert until Mando hijacks it and and fans go crazy over the only episodes that you're not in

I can't help but feel robbed and betrayed when I've waited nearly 20 years of my life for canon Boba Fett content and  I expected to get a Boba Fett centric story in a show called THE BOOK OF BOBA FETT

[blackkatmagic]

*pops up at the mention of prompts* Mayhaps something Myles-centric, as a spectator to Mace/Jango with Depa providing space popcorn?

I just sent in my hope for a prompt but now I'm panicking over whether I wrote "Jaster" as intended or if my dumb brain slipped to "Jango"

“He hasn’t noticed yet, has he?” the little Chalactan girl asks cheerfully, pulling herself up to sit on the table.

Myles, currently face-down on the wood and despairing of every moment he’s spent devoting his life and honor to an idiot, groans loudly. “What ever would have given you that idea?” he asks, muffled, and debates banging his head on the tabletop a few more times. Brain damage might make watching Jaster try and fail at flirting more bearable. Or, alternately, if he can ring his whole helmet like a gong enough times, maybe he can knock himself all the way out and then he really won't have to watch Jaster try to flirt. That sounds like the best possible outcome right now.

The Jedi padawan laughs, and—in any other circumstances Myles might be motivated to defend his Mand’alor’s honor, but not now. Not after that. Maybe Myles should just throw Jaster in a cell somewhere, take over Mandalore, and declare all bad flirting to be illegal. He could do it. And if Jedi Master Mace Windu so much as glanced sideways at Jaster, Myles would have all the time in the world to sneak up behind him and club him over the head like a particularly dumb nerf.

“I don’t think it would be quite that easy,” the padawan says serenely, crossing her legs under her and leaning back on her hands. “Master Mace would probably stop you.”

Myles makes another pathetic noise into the table, not bothering to hide it. The Jedi can sense emotion. Not that that seems to be helping. Which is probably Jaster's fault. “I will admit it’s probably a lot easier to negotiate with a man who’s more interested in getting into a Jedi’s robes than actual policies—”

The padawan laughs. “Master Mace hasn’t noticed that part yet,” she says. “He’d do it because it’s the right thing to do. And then he’d be morally outraged that you would betray your best friend for no good reason.”

No wonder Jaster's heart just about fell out of his eyes when Mace swept up the steps of the Sundari palace. Myles sighs, lifting his head, and pulls his helmet off. It’s hot out in Mandalore’s sun, and he’s already suffering enough having to deal with Jaster and his new obsession. He rubs his forehead, then glances at the girl, her carefully braided hair, her perfectly peaceable expression. “He really hasn’t even noticed? Jaster sounds like he’s concussed.”

The girl grins at him. “Master Mace is bad at talking to people,” she confides easily. “And he’s not great at reading signs. That’s why I'm here.”

“I notice you're not doing anything about…that,” Myles says, testing.

“Of course not. It’s funny.” She leans forward again, braids swaying, and says cheerfully, “I'm Depa.”

“Myles,” he says, reluctantly amused. “He has to notice eventually, right?”

Depa hums, thoughtful. “The Mand’alor was saying something about taking Master Mace for dinner on the wall at sunset,” she says. “That might help.”

Myles makes a mental note to be very, very busy for the rest of the day so he doesn’t have to so much as touch the planning for that. “Are you going to be part of that help?”

“Nope!” Depa says cheerfully. “I have a bet with Master Saa about how long Master Mace can stay oblivious.”

The Neti, Myles thinks, resigned. Even a Neti is laughing at Jaster. He hadn’t thought they even had senses of humor under all that bark. “Wonderful. I'm going to go hide out in the tunnels so Jaster can't find me. And I’ll take Arla, too, so that she doesn’t murder Jaster when he asks herfor help.”

“Arla?” Depa asks, eyes lighting up. “The Mand’alor’s daughter? I've heard of her. Can I come too?”

Myles stares at her for a moment, then snorts. He pushes up from the bench, tilting his head. “Sure. Come on, at least if you and Arla are decent at flirting, it will restore my faith in sentients.”

Depa laughs, leaping down lightly to follow him. “I've been told I'm very good,” she says merrily, and leaps up to the top of the courtyard wall in a bound that completely defies gravity.

Not about to be outdone by a Jedi, particularly a thirteen-year-old one, Myles triggers his jetpack. “By the second large pool,” he calls, and Depa tosses him a cheerful salute and picks up a light-footed run along the top of the wall.

[On AO3]

[independent-variables]

i finally read them this spring and then never really talked about them because the essay i wrote on them was for a class, but it was one of those moments of "oh yeah. don't trust anything anybody says. do your own research."

the entire comic is narrated/framed by dooku. this isn’t jango’s recounting of his life. this is a collection of incidents dooku managed to discover through research and torture and dubious conversation, that he is now presenting to sidious as an argument for why jango would make a good prime clone. it is bare bones. it is skeletal. it’s not about who jango is as a person or about who jaster mereel was to him or about mando culture or history or political divides. it is a brutally efficient rundown of the atrocities that shaped jango fett into the man he is, the violence committed against him and the violence he committed in turn. it’s basically dooku saying “see, if we give him a chance to kill the jedi he’ll jump at it." it is an argument not a story, an essay not a narrative.

i think dooku's framing is vital for understanding the comic. nothing should be taken at face value when the narrator has an agenda.

fandom telephone with the open seasons comics is unreal

[generalobi]

So I know you like just continued this, but I'm addicted to your Medlida/Daan story. Totally at your own pace, I would love to see more interactions between Obi-Wan & Jango & Jaster's possible arrival. Your writing is absolutely brilliant and I love how you wrote the Mandalorians reacting to these children forced to grow up so quick. Fantastic job.

Nield doesn’t look happy that Obi-Wan is giving them another lecture on Mandlorian culture. It’s not like Obi-Wan wants to be teaching a group of twelve teenagers a history he only half understands. Sometimes, the Force works in mysterious ways.

“The Manda’lor is usually a successive position,” Obi-Wan taps the word he’s scrawled on the wall, “Handed down either from parent to child, or from Manda’lor to a chosen successor. Te Sol'yc Mand'alor, or Mandalore the First in Basic, was supposedly the one who conquered Mandalore and exterminated the mythosaurs. The Manda’lor leads the clans, each clan has their own clan leader.”

Herti frowns, “Usually successive?”

“Uh, yes. Jaster Mereel, the current Manda’lor, was chosen by his faction as their Manda’lor and given the official title when the Haat’Mando’ade, the True Mandlorians, won the civil war. He’s elected his son, Jango Fett as his successor. I’m pretty sure I told you all this last time.”

Daria rolls her eyes, “We’re a Council of twelve equal leaders, idiot, most us weren’t listening to a word you said last time. You and I are the only ones who needed to know. Wait, did we ever tell them we were the planetary leaders?”

“That was in the original missive I sent them,” he says, exasperated, “Whether they realised exactly what that meant or not, I don’t know. Anyway, carrying on. Jaster Mereel has been Manda’lor for twenty years, officially for seven.”

“So about the same time we’ve been leaders?” Nield observes thoughtfully, “Remind me why he’s somehow more qualified than us?”

Obi-Wan resists the urge to scream, “Because, he was a leader for thirteen years before he was officially Manda’lor. Like I just said. He’s been Manda’lor for as long as I’ve been alive. We’re plenty qualified, but that doesn’t mean that we always were. We were just children, Nield. You know that as well as I do.”

“Obi-Wan is right,” Mal says, “Now, shut up and let him teach us history so we can keep our nice new trade deal.”

¬

Jango finds that the full MelidaDaan Council is a lot more impressive than he was expecting. Facing twelve battle-hardened veterans is intimidating, even if none of them are older than twenty-one. He imagines even his buir is feeling it.

“It is an honour to meet you, Manda’lor,” the oldest one bows stiffly, “I am Minister Nield. We are pleased to welcome you to our city.”

His buir bows back, “The honour is mine, Minister Nield. I only wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Indeed,” another Minister inclines their head, “We understand you have some questions about our history. We would be more than happy to answer them over dinner, if you’d follow us?”

They’re lead into the same large hall Jango and Myles had been given their first meal in. This time, it’s just the Mandalorian delegation and the Council.

Jango finds himself seated across from Minister Kenobi. The polite smile on his face is a far cry from the genuine joy Jango had seen when he was surrounded by children. That joy… that laugh. He found that he wants to be the one who makes him laugh like that. Maybe, after they’ve got their answers and are no longer in the middle of a negotiation, he can try.

Food is brought in, all of the servers clearly of age. Maybe as a statement, maybe not avoid making anyone uncomfortable.

Jango’s buir has never cared for niceties, or stood on formality. Sometimes, he wonders if Jaster prefers his political opponents and allies uncomfortable.

“So,” his buir says, “We have questions. The first is, do you use child soldiers? Because Mandalorians do not stand for the abuse of children, no matter the reason.”

Minister Kenobi hums thoughtfully, “That is a more complicated question that you know. As you have probably noticed, there are very few adults among us.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

A girl with short cropped hair raises an eyebrow, “It’s not. Not here, not for us. Your children come of age at eighteen in war time, yes? My name is Jyfn, I was ten when we retook our planet. My parents did not want peace, so I ran away and joined the Young. We are all members of the Young. The Elders bombed and killed each other for hundreds of years, and the few left by the end were killed in the final battle, imprisoned for the crimes they committed or exiled themselves to the farmlands.”

A boy with scarred eyes continues, “The Elders blinded me. We were all child soldiers. We do not want to make the children fight, but many of us are children ourselves. Nield is the oldest, he is twenty-two this year. How do we define what an adult is, what a child is? We fought a war when we were nothing but babies ourselves.”

“Children younger than ten don’t work,” Minister Kenobi says, “Children younger than thirteen don’t learn to fight. Ten is how old our youngest Council members were when we won the war, and thirteen is how old I was. As we grow older, as our population grows, the ages will no doubt change. But, by your definition, we do have children soldiers. Some of this Council are child soldiers. I understand your discomfort, Manda’lor, however we cannot overcome our past in isolation from the galaxy.”

“I see,” Jaster scans the assembled Council, “Well, this food is very good.”

¬

It’s late, later than is acceptable to be wandering around. But Jango can’t sleep. Myles and his buir are still talking, trying to find more information without asking the Council to relive more of a traumatic past.

He’s hopelessly lost when he stumbles about Minister Kenobi. He’s sitting on a balcony, gaze on the cloudless sky. Jango debates just leaving him to it, but they might as well both not sleep together.

“Hello, Prince Fett,” he greets, without looking, “Can I help you?”

“I can’t sleep, and it seems you can’t either.”

He shrugs, “Oh you know, old memories and the usual insomnia. What about you?”

“Mostly horror,” Jango settles next to him, “We have a word for your Elders on Mandalore.”

“I know,” he smiles slightly, “Demagolka, right? The description certainly fits the Elders, though they never experimented on us. At least not overtly. They settled on lesser war crimes.”

“Like the murder of children?”

“Maybe not that lesser.”

Jango looks at Minister Kenobi’s moonlit figure. The sharp lines of his silhouette stark against the dark blue sky. He looks older and wearier in the strange half-light of the night. The subject of his stories to the children rises up in his mind. He spoke of Coruscant and Shili and Alderaan. With a civil war like the one here, there’s little chance he would’ve had the opportunity to visit them.

“Were your parents Elders, like the others?” Jango asks cautiously, wary of the answer.

Minister Kenobi doesn’t look at him, “No, at least not to my knowledge. I believe they were from Stewjon, and that they’re Stewjoni. I didn’t grow up with them.”

“Where did you grow up? And how did you end up here?”

“I think that is a story for another time,” he stands, “I must bid you goodnight, Prince Fett. Tomorrow is another busy day.”

“Goodnight, Minister Kenobi.”

He watches as the man slips back inside the Fortress, feet soundless on the tiles and a suspicion forming in his mind.

[crispyjenkins]

hi! i am just very confused about one of ur posts with the mandalorians and cultural genocide and was wondering if maybe you can explain more? i thought mandalorian culture was about like family and arts with the colors and stuff? is it really just about war? i know a lot of people headcanon that the clones are mandalorian but now i feel uncomfy about putting a warrior culture on characters played by a maori actor, whose people still struggle with martial race stereotypes today :(

hello!! i am absolutely not an authority on this topic, so i’ve compiled a bunch of posts that explain it better than me, but short answer is: mandalorian culture is not all about war. there is a ton of intention put into mandalorians (specifcially not death watch, who literally fought in the civil war because the true mandalorians were like “maybe stop pillaging and killing people for no reason” and they didn’t want to stop; or the new mandalorians who threw out every god and myth important to the true mandalorians, as well as its language, cultural importance/sacredness of armor, religious customs, etc, because Satine interpreted true mandalorian culture as nothing but war, but that is extremely extremely not the point of the resol’nare or the codex) and how they draw on Māori culture and customs, because temuera morrison played jango fett in the prequels.

your concern is so so valid and absolutely something to keep in mind when interpreting “canon” and “legends canon”, but satine’s take on true mandalorians is inherently false.

links under the cut with a lil explanation for each! (edit: this is long as fuck, i’m so sorry 🥲)

we’ll start with this one which is from star wars insider issue 86, because it covers a lot of the basics of how eu and legends wrote mandalorians. HOWEVER, also keep in mind this groundwork was all laid by karen traviss who is a racist, sexist, classist, homophobic dirtbag, like i don’t even know where to begin with her, but her early work for jango fett in the republic commando novels is still important to understanding mandalorian culture in current continuities. (i also believe this issue was from before clone wars began airing)

this one goes more in depth than the post i recently reblogged which i think you’re referring to, about the imperialism of the new mandalorians and their cultural genocide of true mandalorians more or less based on satine kryze’s experience with death watch, a splinter cult off of the true mandalorians (i’m using cult intentionally here, btw) who literally just didn’t want their murdering and stealing to be regulated.

this post is about mental illness in true mandalorian society, which is intrinsically tied to the root of true mandalorian and early mandalorian religion and daily culture, and the concept of fighting stagnation and destruction/war against the things that are choking you and stopping self growth, it’s not about conquering people or planets, it’s about bettering oneself constantly, based on the mandalorian creation myth ( @izzyovercoffee goes more in depth with this in the post). death watch, and many fans, interpret this ideology as the right to violence and the destruction for destruction’s sake, which isn’t what it’s about at all.

alright this one is directly related to the concepts of the last one, and surmises a lot of the points, and is maybe the easiest post in my list for a quick understanding of mandalorian philosophy?

here’s a shorter post that gives a little more insight/reiterates new vs true mandalorian ideology, because lord knows my autism brain likes more than one way of explaining something.

this one is an interpretation of canon and new mandalorian imperialism, which is technically headcanon, but boy howdy does canon not disagree with it, and forms the basis of my own interpretation of mandalorians as a whole

here’s a cool post going into the language mando’a and how it cannot be separated from culture, which i think is incredibly important to keep in mind when looking at new mandalorians and how they don’t use mando’a.

more explanation and interpretation of new manadlorians and their portrayal in the clone wars, and why it’s important against all the canon content we got before clone wars aired

this one is from before boba’s return to “canon” material in season two of the mandalorian where he and jango were reconfirmed as mandalorians, but is still super, super, super important in relation to mandalorian diaspora, and the way writers cannot separate mandalorians from their roots in māori culture, when it was created because temuera morrison played jango fett and his clones. also goes into how important “family without blood” is as the basis of mandalorian family and cultural structure, which explains a lot about the show the mandalorian!

this one’s just a cool take on the parallels between mandalorians and jedi, who are also rather disgustingly misinterpreted by fans (interestingly as the opposite, as complacent and too bureaucratic vs the violent and imperialist take most have on mandalorians).

here’s a post going into how din djarin’s tribe/sect in the mandalorian tv isn’t a cult, and how that relates to bo-katan kryze, her position with death watch, and her connection to the new mandalorians because of it.

okie the next few are about how māori customs, things of cultural significance, etc are intentional in the portrayal of (true) mandalorians

this one is about the keldabe kiss or the kov’nyn, forehead-kiss, headbutt 

this one is a video of boba fighting set to te reo māori thrash metal, and a short explanation of the importance of the battle its about, which i think is important in remembering that while the māori people today do suffer from awful marital stereotyping, you cannot divorce them from their own form of warrior culture without erasing that history or importance; there isn’t anything inherently wrong in warrior cultures, just how white people interpreted and appropriated it.

THIS ONE I LOVE and is mr morrison himself bringing the traditional māori dance the haka into boba’s fighting style in the mandalorian tv, as well as the use of māori-style weapons 

which also relates to this post by @catboydindjarin

and sums up my feelings on associating mandalorians and the māori people, how important jango and boba fett have been to people like temuera morrison and daniel logan (who played lil boba in atoc) and bodie taylor (who played the mid-20s clones). as a white person, it’s incredibly important for me to remember the stereotyping and violence still being done to indigenous and first nations people, and to be aware of and respectful of how i use and take pieces of the those cultures in anything, but especially fictional aliens. but to pretend forms of battle, pretend weapons and songs and philosophies that do involve violence were not and are not still culturally important to those peoples is erasure, and is what satine kryze chose to do when faced with a completely different people’s violence.  to separate (true) mandalorians from the māori people is to erase them from the narrative completely.

so!! on a lighter note, here’s a post with bodie taylor and captain typho’s actor jay laga’aia performing haka with mr morrison during an aotc press event

here’s an excerpt from one of the repcom novels about jango being a Dad and how important children are to the true mandalorians 

it won’t let me upload gifs at the moment so here’s a post of several delightful gifs of mr morrison on set for aotc with a rainbow umbrella

here’s one that touches on the importance of armor color as you mentioned in your ask

this wonderfully funny textpost from @letitrainathousandflames that illustrates more of the mandalorian parental instinct (which is shown time and again in extended/legends canon to be more important than “war” or battle)

here’s some highlights from the eu about boba reconnecting with his mandalorian heritage after jango’s death

this one is a short post by @jester-mereel about what jango chooses to be jaster’s legacy, which is vital because jaster mereel the one who created the super commando codex and the true mandalorians, is the one who looked at how people like tor vizsla were using their heritage and thought “we can do and be better than this”

here’s the wookieepedia article on jaster mereel (all wookieepedia stuff should be taken with a grain of salt, of course, especially in regards to the jedi order but that’s another matter)

here’s the wookieepedia article on the supercommandos, which is what earlier material referred to the true mandalorians as, basically the commandos that followed jaster and the supercommando codex

here’s the one on the codex if you want to jump to that specifically

this is an actual copy of the basics of the codex as well as the resol’nare or six tenants, which existed far before jaster, but what jaster used as the ethical basis of the codex (the site is written from the point of view of a supercommando, just a heads up if that’s confusing)

here’s the wookiee article on death watch, i trust you to keep an open mind and don’t take anything said by the vizslas or bo-katan at face value, because, again, they splintered from the supercommandos because they wanted to keep stealing and killing people just because, and used the “savage warrior past” of mandalorians to excuse it

here’s the mando’a dictionary that’s most accessible, also remembering that translations are interpretations (specifically the discourse about “k’atini” comes to mind) and is constantly being revised

and then some of my favorite excerpts from it, in relation to what mandalorians actually find important:

“Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad” | adoption vow - lit. “I know your name as my child.” (meaning adoption is no less important than blood heritage, and in some interpretations is actually more important)

mandokar | the *right stuff*, the epitome of Mando virtue - a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty and a lust for life (and aggression does not always mean violence)

“Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la.” | “Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be.” (Lit: Bloodline is not important, but you as a father are the most valuable thing.) Mando saying emphasising the importance of a father's role, and that a man is judged more by that than his lineage. (this dictionary chooses to gender things unnecessarily, when words like “buir” are gender neutral, but you get the gist: parenthood is very important to mandalorians, which is of course the entire basis for the mandalorian tv plot) 

demagolka | someone who commits atrocties, a real-life monster, a war criminal - from the notorious Mandalorian scientist of the Old Republic, Demagol, known for his experiments on children, and a figure of hate and dread in the Mando psyche (again, children being more important than violence)

bajur | education, the raising and nurturing of children - a wider meaning than just school work, includes preparation for life and survival Aliit ori'shya tal'din | Family is more than blood.

shereshoy | lust for life and much more - uniquely Mandalorian word, meaning the enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as surviving to see the next day - hanging onto life and relishing it. An understandable state of mind/ emotion for a warrior people. Closely related to the words for live, hunt and stay safe - and, of course *oya*. All from the same root.

and since you mentioned color, this post is so feckin cool as it talks about white =/= purity, and goes into quite a bit about the “destruction” in mandalorian culture being about the rebirth, not the violence

and then here’s a few links to content in the mandalorian tv

“the poc experience of keeping ur mouth shut bc ur too tired to argue w/ a white person“ about boba downplaying his mandalorian-ness to bo-katan, a known violent xenophobe 

more on din’s sect the children of the watch not being a cult vs death watch

some cool thoughts on the differences in how boba and bo-katan interacted with din during season 2 which i think is important in terms of illustrating the differences between death watch and true mandalorians, again

a cool dialogue on din and removing his helmet in season 2 and his religious/cultural views in relation to being mandalorian

i spent like three hours on this and i definitely only meant to give you like. five links. but uhhh i hope this helps!! feel free to shoot me further questions, but just keeping in mind i am not māori and cannot speak to the māori experience in fandom or in regards to jango fett and the clones.

i hope you’re safe and well!! 🌻

[clonemando]

Had a bad day and am stressed out so I wrote some Father/Son Jaster and Jango hurt comfort to make me feel a little better. Please enjoy!

Jango hasn't been eating like he should after hearing rations are low and Jaster isn't pleased to find out.

Jango smiled as he sat next to one of the foundlings being looked after by the Ha'at after the last campaign and offered them a second bowl of tiingilar. "Shh, just a secret between us." He said with a wink at them when their expression lit up amd he took the empty bowl in exchange. Jaster couldn't know he had been giving his portions away or he'd be furious but Jango knew what it was like to be new and hungry and too scared to ask for food. Especially when their rations were as low as they were at current. Death Watch was targeting any settlement that traded with Haat they could find and it was leading more and more to turn them away and refuse to trade with them. That with all the crop burning and more foundlings being left behind with no where else to go meant slim pickings for food. Jango was older than most of the others. He was used to missing meals while out on the field with Jaster. Plus the less he ate the easier it got to ignore the slight pains of hunger that would occasionally pop up. It was fine. He wasn't starving himself. He still ate midmeal. He just only at midmeal and whatever snacks Jaster occasionally would share with him.

He got up and walked around to another new kid and snuck them a ration bar that was supposed to he for his breakfast. They smiled at him in thanks and he nodded back before heading to turn in the empty dish.

"You finished that off fast Alor'ika! We should enter you in a competition." Bari said with a bright grin that showed off some fangs she had inherited through mixed genetics. She looked mostly human but so did most Mandalorians, years of adopting any species or race into their own had played with all of their DNA in weird ways. Jango himself was certainly some sort of mash of things as well but it's never really mattered since he was human enough.

"I guess the mission earlier just really had me hungry. I'm all filled up now though. Delicious as I expect from the best cook in the camp." he said kindly but she just raised a brow.

"You really are Jaster's ad with a tongue that smooth Alor'ika. Speaking of which, I haven't seen your buir yet. Take him his portion for me? He's probably still going over those maps." She asked handing him another full bowl and Jango nodded.

"Of course. Honestly how he got anything done before I was here to remind him life exists is a mystery." He chuckled and headed back towards his father's room getting nods from a few verd as he passed them. He felt good about his position. He wasn't cocky enough to think he was special or anything like that but he hot along easily with the other Haat'ade and most seemed to think he belonged with Jaster. It felt nice to be wanted and to have other people confirm his place with them. Even if he didn't become Mand'alor after Jaster, he'd always belong there.

"Buir! Bari sent me with your food. You get lost in that romance novel again?" He asked teasingly as he set the bowl down on Jaster's desk after clearing some space.

Jaster jumped a little in his chair glasses askew on his face before he relaxed at the sight of his son. "I actually think I fell asleep after calling a few more friends to make sure Tor hasn't bothered them." He admitted ruffling Jango's hair fondly and picking up the bowl and sniffling the stew inside.

"Mmm. This smells great. Bari really is a miracle on this whole operation. Only she could manage Tiingilar on such a meager budget." He chuckled and Jango nodded.

"Yeah. It's great! She's an amazing cook." He said clearing his throat when his stomach growled at him to cover the sound.

Jaster took a few bites while Jango looked over the list of numbers Jaster had been going through.

"Hmmm, something about this tastes different." He said after a while and Jango hummed absently.

"She said earlier that she ran out of the normal spice paste she used and started using Clan Rook's stuff instead." Jango said surprised when Jaster choked on his bite causing him to pat Jaster's back.

"Clan Rook's? Are you sure? And you ate it?" Jaster asked eyes fluttering over Jango with concern.

"Of course! It's not like I'm going to turn down Tiingilar! What are you scared Clan Rook is out to poison me or something?" Jango asked playfully though he was trying to understand what had Jaster so upset.

"Jango... Clan Rook uses vash nut powder in their spice mix." He pointed out and Jango winced. Right. Of course they did. And he just happened to be extremely allergic to that particular nut.

"Well... I... Actually wasn't that hungry tonight and didn't want to worry you. I'm sorry Buir. I shouldn't have lied about it. I'm fine though. It's a good thing too it seems since it saved us me swelling up and needing to go to medical." He tried to joke but Jaster was staring at him with a considering gaze now that made him uncomfortable.

"Well you still have your breakfast rations right? You can have that tonight and I'll talk to Bari and make sure there's no more surprises like that again." He offered and Jango reached into the empty pocket head ducking.

"I... uh... I don't have my breakfast ration anymore buir." He said letting his hair fall forward to hide his eyes feeling heat burning his face in shame.

"What happened to it? Did you drop it?" Jaster asked and Jango cleared his throat as his stomach growled again but this time there was no hiding it.

"I'm really not hungry Buir! Really. I'm fine." Jango said knowing he couldn't lie and especially not to Jaster.

"Jango, what's going on? Why aren't you eating? Are you feeling sick?" Jaster asked setting his bowl aside to feel Jango's forehead but Jango pushed his hand aside.

"No... I just... gave it to the foundlings. They need it more. Many are too nervous to speak up and rations are low right now. I don't mind. When things pick up again I'll eat more. I promise." he admitted quietly.

"Jango... why didn't you say anything? You... How many meals have you been skipping? How long?" Jaster asked looking concerned.

"I've been giving away my breakfast rations and late meal. I still eat with you obviously. It's enough. I'm used to it. It doesn't even hurt anymore." He said quickly then regretted it.

"Anymore?! It doesn't hurt anymore? Oh no. No no no. Come on." Jaster stood and grabbed his arm gently but firm enough he couldn't jerk it away easily and started dragging him out of the room.

"Buir! Buir wait! You're overreacting! It's really fine! Some of the verd were even impressed by how good I'm looking!" He said and Jaster almost growled.

"Looks don't matter! None of that matters! You haven't been eating Jango! You're a child! If anyone should he cutting portions it would be the adults and even that there are ways to manage it so we all take turns so no one misses meals the way you have. If you had just said something I could have been giving you extra breakfast rations to give to the others if they're too nervous to ask. You shouldn't have been starving yourself! Do you have any idea how it feels to hear you talking like this? Like you deserve to eat less for some reason? You're my son and I've failed you by not even noticing you were doing this to yourself. I thought maybe the weight loss was because of a growth spurt coming on. I never had an ad before but you... You've been hurting yourself. We're going to medical. They're going to run tests and we're going to figure out how badly you've thrown your diet out of whack. Hopefully not too badly. Then we're eating every meal together until I'm certain I can trust you again." Jaster ranted and Jango just stared at the floor fighting tears. He had just wanted to help.

Jaster took a deep breath and let it out. "Jango, ner ad, you are a good boy with a good heart. But you matter just as much as the new foundlings, you know that right?" he asked more gently as he knelt and tipped Jango's face back up.

"Of course I do. But I'm going to be a leader one day and I have to make sure that our people are all taken care of first. You would have done the same thing!" He argued feeling the tears start to spill down his cheeks and hating it. Being eleven sucked.

Jaster wiped the tears away with his thumb. "Jango, if that was true why am I still eating normally? We have plenty of food Jango. Yes it's a little tight, but nothing to where you need to skip out on everything besides midmeal. And I'm your leader. So, again, it would be me or the other adults, who would be responsible for figuring out how to ration. Which we would need you to be honest about how much you need to eat to be able to do. You're my son. I love you and want you to be living a happy healthy life. Something not hurting anymore, is not a sign of you being happy and healthy. It should never hurt to begin with. You're not in trouble. I'm not mad. I'm scared and upset with myself for not noticing and fixing this sooner." He murmured more calmly and Jango wrapped him in an embrace he eagerly returned.

"Do you promise to actually eat all the meals I give you and tell me if you or anyone else needs extra from now on?" Jaster asked and Jango nodded from where his face was tucked into Jaster's shoulder.

"Good. Then let's get you examined and then I think we both deserve a treat tonight. After you eat a proper latemeal." He said firmly but lifted Jango up and carried him to medical.

[north-peach]

Whoops, lemme fic it (SW)

So I’ve been tossing this idea over in my head, daydreaming, wordbuilding and talking to myself and I’ve had enough.

It’s time to come out.

So, I tried the SI fic once and I didn’t like how it turned out and it was a good few years before wrote one again. There’s a lot of good ones, done by good authors. Silver Queen, Shadowblayze, Vixen Tail, and Mullk6 to name a handful.

But I wanted a character who knew the depth and breath of canon and could fix it. In Star Wars. With Mandalorians. 

Which is usually a self insert, but....wasn’t feeling it.

Then it shifted to time travel. Main characters generally revolved around Bly, Aalya Secura, Quinlan Vos or Anakin, Rex and Alpha-17. Then it was a mix, sometimes Padme or Ahsoka, Jon Antilles or Fay, thanks to @blackkatmagic.

Then it was Boba Fett, Jango, Arla or Jaster even Tarre Vizsla. Korkie Kryze, a mix of his father’s ‘obi’ sound with ‘kote’ as in ‘glory’.

It’s been almost a month since this thought sprang from my head, exactly the opposite of Athena, but here it is.

My first Star Wars time travel fic.

Bly doesn’t wake, not for a long time. 

Even if he is aware of the pressure against bare skin and the alternating temperatures that cause him to shiver or sweat to beat across his face.

He doesn’t wake to the snack, crack of the whip against his back, nor to the claws that rake across his face, but as the days pass, it is pain that draws him back from the dark.

The cold metal of manacles around his wrists, the dull throbbing of his knees against cool, packed dirt. He doesn’t move even as chains rattle and as a weak light flickers in tiny bursts even though he can’t quite open his eyes.

Bly takes a deliberate breath, deliberately breathing in long and slow.

Ribs, is his first immediate thought as pain now screams in his head, followed instantly by, back.

His arms are numb, lips cracked, throat and mouth dryer then Tatooine and it feels like someone’s poured sand in his eyes and then glued them shut.

We release our emotions, our pain into the Force. We breath it back in and then stand and carry on. Lives depend on us. The trick to keeping the pain away is it set it aside and ignore it. But you need to remember, Bly, pain is our body telling us we’re injured. You cannot ignore it forever.

It’s her voice in his head, the memories always there as soon as he tugs them and he barely muffles a noise in the shifting of his chains because the last thing Bly remembers is a fractured and shattered thing that provides nothing to help him determine his situation.

Beyond the obvious of captured, separated and tortured. 

A breath, another and his fingers twitch as he tries to get his hands to response to his commands.

He moves his eyes, scrunching his face, and ignoring the sting of scabbed wounds and manages to crack his eyes open. He’s in a room, surrounded by stone and bars. An electrical lamp flicker erratically in a halo of barely there light in the distance.

No one is there. He is alone.

He listens, strains his hearing, yet nothing so much as stirs. 

Bly goes back to restoring feeling in his body.

A minute, two and then an unpleasant rush of pins and needles as sensation returns to his arms. Bly grits his teeth and clenches his thighs, his legs then curls his toes under his feet, allowing his body weight to force him to rock back, using the momentum to stagger to his feet.

Lights prickle against what little vision he has and the chains jerk and rattle as he uses them as leverage to remain on his feet.

Pain bursts across his back, down his legs, his knees, every motion and contraction of his body, his muscles sends signals of agony to his brain.

“Osik.”

The word is almost soundless, hissed between clenched teeth and formed from harsh, gasping breaths.

Bly cannot help how his body curls over it self, even if it sends the blood rushing to his head and makes him even more dizzy. He braces his feet and refuses to pass out.

He doesn’t know where Aalya is.

He doesn’t know who he was with, what he was doing, if any of his vod’e are here, Bly doesn’t know anything.

He remembers blue and gold, the blue of Aayla’s skin, the gold of her eyes, maybe the blue of the 501st? Was General Skywalker on mission with them?

Was... was Vos there?

There’s nothing but a blank space in his head, so Bly puts that away for now and takes stock of what he has on hand.

Which is, in short, a big fat nothing.

He’s in loose pants, thin material, covered in dirt and blood, no shirt, no armor, no weapons- even the small tools disguised as a ring, bracelet- he’s got nothing.

It looks like he’s chained up underground in a cave somewhere. That’s the only explanation for both his surrounding and the relatively cool atmosphere. There’s a door that’s barely even a door, just a large rectangular slab of rusty bars almost propped against the entry way.

He could probably kick it open, depending on how heavy it was, but that was once he found a way out of his chains-

Bly pauses.

Looks up at the roof of his cell where the chains are anchored.

Well, he thinks, an edge of amusement to himself, If I can take my chains with me, I’ll have a weapon.

__________

Honestly, later, if someone asked how long he was stuck there in the murky darkness working and working to pull the anchor points of his chains from the ceiling, Bly wouldn’t be able to say.

He stops and rests when the injuries on his back crack open, spilling blood down his skin and dripping onto the floor, when his ribs scream at him and his breath wheezes as he desperately tries to breath.

He doesn’t ever stop for long though.

Eventually he gets free, the rest anchor breaking free of crumbling stone and Bly sinks to his knees, wincing as pain flares up again.

A moment of rest, to wait until his breathing slows down enough he can regulate it for sleath.

Then he carefully wraps his new weapon around his shoulders, winding them down his arms. Slowly, he makes his way to the door that is currently the only obstacle in his way to relative freedom.

It was heavy as it looked, but several solid shoves and one frustrated kick and the door was free enough for him to squeeze past it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about directions at the moment because his cell was located at the end of a hallway and the only way out was forward.

So forward Bly went, creeping along the walls on bare feet, moving steadily down to where a single light was valiantly, but ultimately failing at lighting up the area.

Bly took a breath and walked past, heading deeper into the caves with no way of knowing which way was out, if anyone was waiting for him on the other end or even if he could find a way out.

Bly didn’t care because right now, there was an entirely unacceptable amount of space between him and his General and it needed to be rectified, right karking now.

__________________

Times passes and Bly has to take a breather, has to sit to wait for his legs, his hands, everything to stop shaking even as chills crawled up his skin.

He keeps going, keeps following the eternal hallway he seems to be trapped in. Occasionally he’ll come across other cells, but like all of the ones he checked previously, there isn’t anyone in them. Just chains, manacles, shakes, crude stone tables or chairs.

The weak lights are not quite evenly spaced out, but every cluster of cells has one in the middle of the block. He’s sure he’s passed about six blocks by now, and still no sign of this hallway ending or branching off.

A part of him wonders if he’s hallucinating, but the continuous pain for his body begs to tell him differently.

He trails bloodstained hands against the wall and so far he hasn’t randomly circled back around so he must be making progress.

You were modified to see better in the dark? Compared to humans, or near-humans, Twi’leks vision is considered superior, but without the Force, I’m thinking you’d win at Hide-and-Seek-in-the-Dark.

My favorite color? Tell me, if I said blue wh- no, I’m kidding! It’s gold Bly. W- No, not like my eyes! Like Master’s-

Bly can hear Aalya sometimes.

The way she laughed, said his name or how she would stare at him. When her mouth softened and she smiled so easily.

Bly keeps going.

______

Hours? Maybe days later, Bly hears voices that are, for once, not his or in his head. A soft murmur, nothing clear enough to make out words or the like, but Bly grits his teeth and quickly lunges into the nearest cell and flattens himself in a natural curve of the walls.

He’s lost weight during how ever long he’s been here, so he folds himself easily into the shadows and evens his breath down, ignoring the ever familiar spasm of pain his ribs makes with every movement.

A beat, two, three, longer and still the voices only murmur. 

Bly slows moves from his hiding place only to step right back into it as the voices abruptly rise in volume along with a feminine scream of pain that rings off the walls and is swallowed by the darkness that leads down to his cell.

Gently, Bly uncoils his chains.

______

When enough time passes he can make out the heavy footfalls of two armored being’s footsteps and the unmistakable sound of dragging feet, Bly closes his eyes and concentrates on his hearing.

“-Ne shab'rud'niÖ, aruetii-”

“-aruetyc dini'la-”

The sharp sound of metal against flesh, followed by a harsh vocalizer.

“Ne'johaa!“

A faint moan, before one of the men laughs.

See, the thing is Bly isn’t considered Mandalorian.

In fact, Manda’yaim considers Bly and his brothers to be abominations. Soulless things created in a lab. Not to mention General Kenobi’s Duchess is a pacifist in the very worst way. 

A Mandalorian with a Mandalorian’s stubbornness, determination and pride to be anything but a Mandalorian. 

Good intention’s Satine Krytze may have had at the beginning but erasing everything that makes Mandalor Mandalor was not the way to go about bringing peace to her people.

Especially since the Duchess had the final say on if the Clones of Mand’alor Jango Fett should be considered citizens of Manda’yaim. Or rather, she just enforces Prime’s opinion that clones were not real people and this couldn’t be a people or a part of a people.

Jango Fett may have been some high ranked Mandalorian in certain circles, but the only reason why the clones even knew the languages is because of the instructors who adopted the older batches and how those clones would teach one or two- like Kote who became Cody, who taught Ret who was now Rex.

The language and the customs spread from the clones who were actually wanted down to even the shiniest of shinies. Of course, there were parts of their culture that they developed all on their own. 

Being modelled after a Mandalorian, of course, meant that they shared the same traditions and quirks that they did as a consequence of being so closely related.

The colors, symbols and naming to mention a few.

Colors all had meaning, as did their placement, the same with symbols and the bucket everyone wore. Working with the jetiise as closely as they did, their culture took bits and pieces that resonated with the Vod’e and as it did with everything, spread to all the battalions. 

But when he hears a threatening form of behave, traitor followed by two words that mean ‘traitorous’  and ‘insane’ preceding what is clearly an armored fist making contact with someone’s bare skin, Bly’s already pretty sure who’s side he’s on.

That’s even before he sees the dusty blue and the gray of beskar in the dim lighting worn by two people dragging what looks like a teenaged girl between them.

Kyr’tsad. 

Kriffing, karking-!

Bly untucks himself from the shadows and creeps up behind the two, careful to keep to the walls until he lunges forward, throwing one of his chains between target two’s legs even as he losses a coil of chains around target one’s neck and pulls back.

His ribs scream, his arms shake, but he drops his weight and wrenches the shabuir back, his legs kicking out the catch the small space between armor plates on Death Watch’s lower back to toss him over and behind.

Target the second is already dropping the girl, pale blonde hair visible in the gloom and reaching for a weapon at their belt.

Bly doesn’t give them the chance, jerking his chain back instantly compromising target two’s balance.

Barely ten seconds in this fight and both of them are on the ground. Target one is still choking with the chain around their neck and Bly keeps yanking it back to ensure they stays that way.

The other, Bly goes in for close combat, using his chain as bet he can with his shoulders and ribs kriffed up, but he manages to get enough wrapped around their legs and a single arm that he’s able to jab his fingers into the hollow of their throat and jerk their helmet off.

Eyes, nose, mouth, all places Bly can do some damage, but his strength is flagging so he slams his palm into their nose, once, twice, thrice until the shabuir goes limp.

One down, one to go.

Bly cracks the chain and sends the last stumbling even as he palms a vibroblade and uses the weight at the end of the chain the move himself close enough to-

Bly swings up, twists and lets dead weight fall where it may.

A moment, two, three before he breaths again, carefully, adrenaline pumping through his body. He pulls the chain taunt and swings the blade down. Metal chips, but doesn’t break do he does it again, again, again until it gives and all he’s left with is a manacle around his wrist.

The process repeats until he’s free from the weight of chains and he’s free. An arm carefully wraps around his chest as he struggles to breath, but he forces himself back up, to rifle through the utility belts and pockets to see what other weapons or rations he can find.

The first pocket he searches has a whole flask of water and he immediately takes small slow sips, 

He coughs, the taste of iron lingering in the back of his throat, but already his day is starting to pick up. Setting the water back down, he turns his attention to the small body crumpled on the ground.

Gingerly he makes his way over, easing himself to the floor and reaching out a hand-

-before pausing. 

All three of them spoke Mando’a. Even in the dim lighting, Bly can see all the bruises up an down the girl’s arms. So he opens his mouth to speak, only to cough, his entire body lighting up in pain as his ears start to ring.

It takes a minute, but when he stops, he carefully wets his lips and tries again.

“Hey, ade.”

Silence.

In the hallway, there’s only the sound of his strained breathing and her soft breaths.

Bly doesn’t know if she’s faking or not. Either way, he can’t afford to take any more injuries.

He coughs again, hunching over and unable to avoid the low groan of pain that crawls up his throat.

He does his best to breath, there in the dark with the girl either genuinely unconscious or faking it. Either way, the pain is distracting him and he’s going to need to sit there for a moment before he attempts any other movements.

Regardless he tries again and ignores how his voice cracks.

“I’mma...I’mma need you to wake up here, ad’ika.”

His back burns where he’s leaning against the wall and he can feel the blood begin to drip again. He doesn’t know how much he’s lost, how many times he’s reopened his wounds, but considering how lightheaded he is, considering how everything is starting to close in on him, it’s probably more then recommended. 

The world blurs around the edges and his awareness drifts away for a bit. Somewhere, far away, it sounds like Aayla singing, her voice echoing with the 327th Star Corps.

_____

“Gar shuk meh kyrayc.“

Bly blinks back to awareness.

The girl knees in front of him, short blonde hair framing a pale face. Barely out of childhood, even if she looks like she’s in need of a few good meals.

Then the words register.

He can’t help the amusement that wells up and huffs a laugh he immediately regrets.

“Here,” the girl says as she shoves a fist in front of him.

He flinches back, before stilling himself.

The girl doesn’t react, just holds up the water flask in her other hand.

“It’s for the pain. The tall one carried them.”

A breath, then he reaches out, ignoring the shaking on his hands, to let the girl drop two small pills into his hands while shoving the water at him. More careful sips as the pills go mostly dry down his throat.

“Vor entye,” Bly rasps.

“Ba'gedet'ye,” she says, eyes running over his face, his chest, a wary twist to her mouth. “You’re no use dead.”

Unnecessary for her to repeat that, Bly thinks. Scared, but brave. His lips twitch  as he runs a searching gaze over the girl.

Torn clothes, almost identical to his own, only with a shirt and less blood and dirt. Thin wrists, lank and greasy hair, coupled with even more bruises he can see blooming everywhere on uncovered skin.

Including her face, one cheeks which sports several colors that frame lines of dried blood and a split lip.

Gently, carefully, Bly lifts a hand and hovers in front of the injury. Not touching, close, but out of reach.

“And you?”

She blinks, startled. The barest hints of confusion crinkle her brow.

Bly smiles, letting his hand drop.

“Are you hurt, ad’ika?”

A touch of fire burns in her eyes.

“You’re bleeding.”

It’s almost an accusation, the words falling harshly from her mouth.

He acknowledges the point.

“Lek.” He continues, more solemnly, shifting his weight forward to meet her eyes, slowly enough that she doesn’t react beyond tensing her muscles. “But Kry’tsad is not known for being kind.”

Slowly, the girl shakes her head.

A moment of silence passes and the girl watches him. Bly gets his breathing back under control and deeply appreciates as the pounding in his head fades along with the burning in his shoulders and arms.

“By any chance, have you seen a blue Twi’lek in any of the cells you passed?”

“We are the only prisoners in this place. There are none who come here, save for the tall one and the cold one, both of which you killed.”

Bly studies the girl, the way the strain in her features eases as she talks about target one and two’s death, the audible note of gratitude. 

“Tion gar gai?“

“What is yours?” 

The response to his simple question is instantaneous, her tone now biting and wary. He doesn’t react, only lets amusement tug at his mouth.

“Bly-”

 (“There is a name that Mandalorians use when they are disowned or cast out from their clan or family. Some chose this name as a way to seperate themselves on their own terms. Others have their names taken and are left with this.”

“Considering that Jango Fett doesn’t considering us real people let alone his ade, do we call ourselves this?”

A humorless laugh.

“You always were the one who never hesitated to go for the throat, Kote.”)

“-just Bly.”

“Arla.”

Not a familar name, even if there’s something about her face that reminds him of- reminds him.

“Let’s get out of here, okay, Arla?”

The barest hints of a smile as Bly hauls himself to his feets and then turns once he can speak without screaming or making any other noises of pain, and holds out his hand.

Arla hesitates to reach out, before glancing over to the bodies.

“Can I have the blaster if you have the vibroblade?”

“How about we see if there’s another vibroblade you can carry and I’ll take the blaster?”

______

A more thorough search of the bodies produces another vibroblade, a small holdout blaster (which Arla claims), a large blaster (which Bly claims) rations, two lights that work and a new set of clothes and armor for Bly.

He makes Arla turn around while he strips the corpse of the tall one, a.k.a. target one and pulls on the armor under suit, which helpfully compresses his ribs and then begins to strap on armor. 

“Were you conscious enough to see how many people there are in these caves?”

Arla’s voice is soft, but it carries well as she immediately goes into an information download.

“We came on a ship, just the three of us. There is no one else here. It’s supposed to be so secure that it doesn’t matter if you manage to escape, there’s no where else to go. Plus someone always comes to check every couple of days. Which is when, if they want you to live, you get food and water. This is where you get thrown when they want you to rot away and die in the dark.”

Bly hums, carefully clicking vambraces into place, pleasure briefly rising up in his chest at the decent fit. 

“And the war?”

Arla pauses.

“I haven’t- They kept most of the information away from me, but sometimes I managed to hear things. Like how Kry’tsad has a sky in Mand’alor Mereel’s camp and how they’re planning how to lead them into a trap and kill them all in such a way to send a message.”

Bly blinks, as he finishes up with tugging the last piece in place.

“Mand’alor Mereel?”

Arla makes an agreeing sound.

“Someone let slip they’re calling him Mand’alor the Reformer. Vizsla gets really angry when he hears that.”

Mand’alor Mereel.

Jastor Mereel?

On getting access to the holonet, one of the first things the Vod’e who were interested in Mandalorian history looked up was the state of leadership. Kote was certain that he wanted to see who decided that they weren’t citizens despite being from a Mandalorain. 

 Jaster Mereel was the father of Jango Fett, before he died on Korda 6 twenty something years ago!

Bly took a breath, before spitting out a curse in Twi’lek, follow up by a very vehement “Force osik!”

Arla didn’t say anything when Bly walked up behind her, only stared to stare, distaste clear in the disgust on her face.

“Needs must, ad’ika. I need to find someone and the easiest way off this haran place is on the Death Watch ship you came in one. Which”, Bly slid the helmet on, the HUB automatically pulling up and activating night vision. “Will be a thousand times easier which me pretending to be Kry’tsad.”

Again, he held out his hand.

“Ba'slanar.”

A smile, small, but undeniably there as clearly seen by the display screen in his buy’ce. 

Arla took his hand.

_________

The climb out of haran was nothing to sneeze at, but they made it. Upon exiting, Bly couldn’t help the noise of appreciation he made at the sun setting into the distance. Or rising. Either or. It wouldn’t matter in a few minutes as they would be leaving the planet, deserted and rocky as it was, it offered no appeal in water or wild growing plants.

The ship was there, ramp still down and Bly gently tugged Arla along, right into the ship and take that, General Skywalker!

Plan A, accomplished with only a minor deivation.

Minus the either confused youngling or the apparently very real possibility of time travel.

Aayla was still missing and Bly still had no idea if anyone else was missing or if it was him that was missing and not everyone else. For all he knew, this was something that only affected him and Aayla was completely fine.

Surrounded by the 327th and the 501st, plus droids. 

Bly quickly ran through each and every room in the ship, Arla right behind him, gripping her vibroblade, clearing each space before moving on to the next one.

Cargo, armory, kitchen, berths, cockpit and a decent sized corner with padded seats and tables. 

Bly also ran a lifesigns sweep from the main computer before he was satisfied. It wasn’t a large ship, but it could comfortably accommodate three to four people so it would be perfect for them.

He holstered the blaster and quickly ran through flight check before initiating the start up sequence.

Arla quickly strapped herself into the co-pilots chair, unable to contain the trains of excitement painting itself all over face.

Ramp up, engines fired, all systems green, Bly slowly poured power into the system and the ship lifted off this karking planet, landing gear folding up and away.

Before he turned around to launch into the atmosphere, he quickly toggled the weapons system, loaded up a missile and fired it without hesitation into the mouth of his former prison.

The resulting explosion of stone, dirt and fire would go a long way to ease nightmares for the next weeks.

Once they cleared the atmosphere, Bly carefully used the HUD to change all teh passwords, security settings and just generally switched out who the ship’s computer’s answered to before tugging it off and gently running a hand through his tangled hair.

“Well, ad’ika. I’ve no place to be, but frankly I could use a shower. How about you?”

Arla look up and smiled, eyes wet.

“Shower and food first. Then we find our people.”

The knot of worry in his chest eased somewhat at the assurance that now he was able to begin his efforts to find out if Aalya made it along with him and if any others did. 

“Her name is Aalya,” Bly says, longing heavy in his voice. “I don’t remember much, but if she’s out there, I’ll find her.”

Arla, stands, equal height with him before holding out her hand. She wait unti Bly takes it before speaking.

“Arla Fett. I’m looking for my brother Jango. He should be with Mand’alor Jaster Mereel and the Haat Mando’ade.”

_______________________

....so uh. When I sat down like............................five hours ago I did NOT mean to write chapter one of fic. I guess I did though so....eh. I’ll go polish it up and post it on ao3

[clonewarslover55]

Walon Vau’s story

I decided to write out Walon Vau’s story, especially his home life and childhood. Why is Walon Vau the way he is? Read this and find out why. 

Notes: I used my own headcanons mixed with the small details Karen Traviss gave us in the Republic Commando books. Please don’t steal this because you think it’s all hers! 

Warnings: Bad childhood, abuse, child abuse, wounds, whipping, exile, royal drama, evil in the form of a man, thoughts of suicide, angst, 

Let’s start this off with a little bit of planet information and backstory! 

 The planet Irmenu is a small ocean world, the only land masses being large rocky islands. Most seem like mountains, with dangerous cliffs leading into the cold unforgiving sea. The ocean is riddled with beasts and monsters, but the only way of life is to sail. There are some valleys for livestock or farming, but not many. The valleys usually flood anyways, the storms always ruthless. So the Irmenu people fish and sail, searching for months on end just to survive and feed their family. 

Sailing is easy enough. The winds are strong and the seas rough. It’s cold year around, but the people have learned to adapt and survive. Wearing the fur of the air breathing sea beasts, making larger boats, etc. 

The kingdoms are clusters of islands, not one large land mass. Many islands are in large clusters, huge oceans between each cluster. The islands are all under the rule of the religious leaders, but sometimes there is still conflict. Conflict never lasts long on Irmenu though. 

This oceanic planet is in the Outer Rim, in the Belsmuth sector. Their planet is in the middle of the Crombach Nebula, which is extremely hazardous. This gives Irmenu a very good excuse to be so isolated. The leaders of the world use this to their advantage.  

This planet is a Feudal world, which means it’s controlled by a strict religion that also runs the powerful military. This means his world is very close minded and far behind on certain technologies and such. They still have spaceships and holopads, yes, but they’re out of date and ancient. 

The Imperius Priesthood runs the planet under very strict rules. They control what leaves and goes, along with who. They control the nobles and their money, using the Count’s as their marionettes. If you didn’t follow their rules/beliefs, you were either publicly executed, exiled, or sent to a nunnery. All depends on the situation. 

They’re everywhere, spying on their people and arresting whoever they please. Being so strict and ruling by fear affected the Irmenu people terribly. Most were religious fanatics, which means religion dictates every single part of their lives. They read the Irmenu Bible over and over instead of other books, and they follow the rules like good puppets. 

This planet is clearly terrible on it’s own, which only made Walon Vau’s childhood even worse. 

Walon Vau was born around 79 BBY on the planet Irmenu. He was the first and only son of the Count of Gesl, who was also an admiral in the very large Irmenu navy. Walon was raised like any royal, so he didn’t have much of a childhood.

Every second of every day was planned out by his father. He was highly educated, classes every day of the week and all day long. He rarely saw his parents, and when he did it was never under good circumstances. 

Walon learned proper etiquette, dancing, poetry, politics, and many other things he’d need to know for his future as a ruler. He was taught by a number of tutors, each brutal and cruel. He either learned, or was beaten. 

Once he reached the age of ten he began to work harder, practicing and studying for the navy. He didn’t want to follow in his fathers footsteps, but Walon had no choice. Plus he loved sailing, the ocean was calming and vast. The navy was his only hope for a better life. 

Pa Vau, Walon’s father was a harsh man. He was described as domineering, cold hearted, and unpleasable. He beat Walon when he didn’t do perfect on his lessons or training. He wanted Walon to be like him, so he tried to beat all emotion and feeling from his son. He almost succeeded. 

 A good ruler in Irmenu has no heart or soul in Pa’s eyes. 

He would never hit Walon on the face or anywhere visible, he had to have a good face as a royal. As Walon got older the beatings became more often and more brutal, because he wasn’t doing good enough in Pa’s eyes. 

When Walon was fourteen and tried out for the navy his own father rejected him, saying he was not good enough. Walon continued to train, the beatings even worse. The training didn’t help, Walon never made it into the navy. Pa was so unpleasable his only child was never good enough for him. This caused Walon to quickly lose hope, the thought of suicide seeming more appealing by the day. 

Walon only ever got to see his mother at nights, when she would come clean up his bloody lashing marks and other wounds. She was a soft gentle woman, but timid. Pa beat her as well, making sure she didn’t see her son for too long. She was never allowed to see Walon alone, because Pa didn’t want Vau to go soft by a mothers love. 

She was a religious fanatic just like his father, so she would lecture him as well. He had to be better, he had to. He was royalty, he was better than how he acted. Her words were often more cruel than intended. 

When she finished cleaning his wounds she’d read him a chapter of the Irmenu Bible, a book Walon was forced to know every last word to. He never listened though, he would always zone out and dream of a better life…….Or even of ending his life.  

His parents were never in love, their marriage arranged. His father married his mother because of her wealth and bloodline. His mother had rare golden eyes, a symbol of high status to his people. He got her eyes, but his father said that the color of his eyes meant nothing compared to how much of a failure he is. 

When Walon turned sixteen he was at a ball for some religious holiday, where we meant a beautiful princess of a neighboring province. After a few dances they quickly hit it off, and grew close rather fast. She basically saved his life, keeping him from ending it once and for all. She also changed his future for the better. 

He would sneak out as often as he could to meet her under the stars, but more often than not they wrote love letters on flimsy back and forth. Each letter, written with the finest penmanship and finest poetic words was kept by the princess. Walon kept hers as well, in a box under his bed.  

When Walon was eighteen, he asked his father if he could marry the princess. His father and her father both rejected the marriage, along with the Priesthood. Not because of politics or religion, but because Walon was not good enough or worthy to marry such a beautiful woman. 

His father was enraged that he had dared to ask such a question, so he was beaten worse than ever and nearly died. All because his father was embarrassed. When Walon healed a little he learned his love had been shipped away across the planet, to a nunnery. She would learn her lesson for sneaking out and falling in love with someone who was not of an arranged marriage. 

He knew he’d never see her again. 

Walon was exiled temporarily aftwards, being sent to some neighboring shit hole of a planet. He was eighteen and alone, with no idea of the outside world. His mother sobbed for days, her only child and her last hope gone. She prayed every night that he would be allowed back soon. 

Luckily for Walon Vau, he used to sneak out to the large library every night to read books. They had no fiction books, so he just learned about other societies and their ways. Most books pointed out how “bad” they were, but Walon always thought they were so much better than his planet's society. 

Thanks to reading, he knew a bit about the real galaxy. 

Walon had nothing but the clothes on his back. He had no money or possessions. No title, no name. So he wandered. 

Soon he ran into a group of Mandalorians, one by the name of Jaster Mereel. They quickly took in a teenage Walon, teaching him a new way. The way of the Mandalorian warriors. He never believed his home world's ludicrous ideas, so switching religions and cultures was very easy for Walon.

His family found out and disowned Walon for giving up his culture and religion. He lost his title and broke his mothers heart. His mother apparently died of a broken heart, after she heard the news that he would never return. But he knows deep down that his father finally snapped and killed her.

Walon became a perfect warrior, his body and mind already scarred from years and years of abuse. He was cold, calm, and calculated. Walon was also highly educated and very intelligent. So much so that some other Mandalorians taught him how to torture and dismember. He learned about the medical field and could have even been a doctor, but he preferred dead bodies and torturing. 

Jedi could hardly sense him in the force, his soul too broken. He was a perfect Mandalorian Warrior, fighting along with his friend Jango Fett and many others for years.  He fought in the Mandalorian Civil Wars, killing Jedi with no issue. 

Early in his time with the Mandalorians, Walon met a Strill. The Strill could sense Walon’s shattered soul and broken mind, so it adopted him. The Strill was named Lord Mirdalan, jokingly after his favorite uncle. The uncle that had beaten him the less, and had been executed when Walon was ten. Walon did not miss him, or anyone from his home world. 

That’s Walon Vau’s childhood story. He’s ice cold, calm, and utterly detached for a reason. His body is scarred, as is his shattered soul. He was so traumatized and beaten down into the way of the soulless that he had a hard time trying to escape that pit. 

He was cruel to his Clone Commandos, but every day he would be up all night thinking. He wanted them to survive the war, that's all he wanted. He didn’t want them to be failures like him, he couldn’t allow it. Failures never survived.

Walon Vau hardly ever sleeps at night, his mind plagued by nightmares. Not of the wars, but of his home life. 

Mird held Vau together a little better, but his soul never healed. He could never escape the hole of his traumatic past, and it ruined his life forever. 

They call him a psychopath but he really isn’t. Walon Vau can still feel, he just doesn’t know how to. Walon Vau is just a shattered and traumatized man, one who never got proper help. One who never had a childhood. 

(Please reblog this if you like it! I worked very hard on it!) 

Tags: @leias-left-hair-bun @iamassbuttkingofhell @catsnkooks @mxndalorians @colorfulloverbatturkey @ahsokatano-thetogruta @jedi-mando @peacefulwizardfox @hounding-around @julyzaa @feathersforclones @chr0nicbackpain @strangebroadwaykinks @jedi-nila-rhyn @crimson-dxwn @detroitbydark @passionofthesith

[bylightofdawn]

Okay it's WIP Sunday again. This scene I technically wrote last night at like 1 am so it was TECHNICALLY Sunday. I really have only written like 1,300 words today and am smack dab in the middle of a JasPlo scene which sadly is not complete enough to make sense. So you get a special treat. A very important conversation between Jango and Mij where Jango admits perhaps for the first time out loud that he doesn't really WANT to be Mand'alor but doesn't want to disappoint Jaster by telling him that.

I'm constantly battling with myself when it comes to writing Jango who definitely feels way more mature for a 14/15-year-old like we see in Open Seasons. But that's just Mando (I don't know if tumblr auto-correct that but it was originally Mango culture and I am ded) culture and he would technically be considered an 'adult' by their standards. Even if I do think he's still a teenager and his brain isn't fully developed and would prolly still struggle with typical teenage things like fear of disappointing his parents and the like. So I try and write him like he's mature but also a kid still in some ways if that makes sense? Blah blah, rough draft and will need to be edited at a later date warning as always.

I also love that Mij has accidentally become the agony aunt of the Mereel/Fett household. I mean, doctors often act as the first step into a patient's mental health journey but gods love him. I don't think Mandalorians and mental health care are on very strong terms. They don't strike me as bastions of mental health awareness in a lot of ways. Pfffft. Long story short, he does not get paid enough for this shit.

The doctor moved to sit down on the other end of the couch. “You’ll have plenty of time before you have to worry about him needing to really consider who all he wants to take up the title of Mand’alor. Don’t listen to the osik people like Montross say.” 

He carefully chose his words when he said that but Jango still shot him a wary, suspicious look. 

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Jango? You’re a bright kid and you’re definitely more mature than a lot of people your age so I’m going to do you the courtesy of treating you like you’re an adult. Do me to courtesy of not treating me like I’m a blind idiot, okay? It’s completely normal that you’d be anxious about that. It’s a lot of responsibility and pressure to put on anyone’s shoulders. Especially a teenager. Which is why Jaster is trying so damned hard to not make you feel pressured to make that choice if you don’t want it.” 

“I don’t...think I do want it is the thing. I like being a soldier, but I don’t think I want to be the Mand’alor.” Jango couldn’t explain why exactly those words flew out of his mouth. Why he’d suddenly uttered something he’d been clinging to tightly like some kind of shameful secret to Mij Gilamar of all people.

Maybe because he didn’t have that same emotional connection to the man? Maybe because he did come across as somewhat easier to talk to than Jaster when it came to this? Or maybe it simply burst out of him like a boil that desperately needed to be lanced. Because if he kept it inside of himself for another day, he might go crazy. 

To his credit, the doctor didn’t look triumphant or exultant that Jango had confided in him. If anything, the older man’s steady gray eyes looked understanding and maybe a little sympathetic. As if Jango had simply confirmed something he’d already known. 

“I don’t think most people would choose to be either if I’m being honest. It’s a lot of hard work and a pretty thankless job in a lot of ways.” 

“Exactly. Have you seen the way they treat Jaster at times? I just want to–I want to punch Kyr Ordo in the face sometimes. So yeah, I think I’d be a terrible Mand’alor”

“Then tell that to Jaster, he’s not going to judge you or place some kind of guilt trip on your shoulders.”

“I don’t want to disappoint him,” Jango admitted quietly. 

“I don’t think it is possible you can disappoint him. You would really have to kark up for that to happen. Short of you murdering a whole host of people or doing some serious war crimes, I don’t think you need to worry about that. And even then, he’d probably try and stand by you because that’s who he is.” Mij snorted softly. “He will however probably internalize all kinds of guilt and act like a real di’kut if he thinks you did something you don’t want just to try and please him.” 

“Yeah, that sounds like the kind of stupid thing he’d do.” The teenager agreed with a wan smile. 

“The most brilliant idiot I know.” The doctor agreed with a matching smile. 

“Oh, I like that, I’m going to have to remember that one.”

“Sure, take all my best material. I might have to start charging you.” Mij teased. “Look, real talk? I admire the hell out of Jaster. We all do which is why we’re half a damned galaxy away from home and our loved ones trying to make this crazy dream of his happen. I would literally not be here if he had not personally asked me to come. Because I’d much rather be back home right now with my lovely wife, you know? But I know if I’d told him no way, he wouldn’t have held it against me, wouldn’t have done anything but thank me for my time and it would have never been brought up again.”

“Yeah, what’s that got to do with this?” 

“It means, if he’s not going to hold something like that against me, someone who has only known him for a few years and isn’t even remotely family then you definitely don’t have to worry about him holding it against you.”

“It’s a bit bigger than just asking you to come with us on some mad jaunt to Coruscant.” 

“Is it, though? Isn’t he asking you if you want the job and you can decide if you do or don’t want it? Talk to him and tell him. The quicker you get it off your chest, the better you’re going to feel about it and the quicker he can start trying to cast about and find someone crazy enough to want to take on the gig.” 

“Yeah but what if he asks someone like <I>Montross</I>. He hasn’t exactly been subtle in his hinting he’d take it up in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t think there’s enough traumatic brain injury Jaster could suffer where he would think that was a good idea. I mean, maybe once upon a time when Montross wasn’t such a chakaar. Supposedly, back in the day, he wasn’t this much of a bastard but these days, I don’t think he’s exactly winning the hearts and minds of most folks. Maybe the more stubborn and hidebound types but I’d like to think that breed is dying out. Usually, because they literally are too stupid to live to old age.” 

“Two words: Kyr Ordo. He’s not going to do anyone a favor and die anytime soon I’m sure.”

“Ordo is definitely stubborn and can definitely be hidebound but he’s more cagey than I think you give him credit for. He sees which way the wind is blowing and I think he’ll probably surprise you. There’s no way you get to be the leader of that clan without knowing how to spot a serpent in the grass. I think if Montross pushes things too far, he might find himself in for a surprise in how few people would be willing to follow him.” 

Jango frowned as he pondered Mij’s words and every way he looked at it, there was a lot of common sense in the older man’s statements.  “I don’t know if Jaster can see it though. I think he’s got a huge blindspot when it comes to Montross.”

“That’s what happens when you serve with someone as long as those two have. You’ll just have to be there to watch his back. I don’t think Montross is going to try and stick a knife in it, but who really knows what’s going on in someone’s head? Who knows, maybe if he thinks he doesn’t have to compete with you for competition, he’ll calm down now.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t even bother trying to disguise his doubt about that. 

“All you can do is watch his back like you’ve been doing. And once you two talk and Jaster knows where you stand, you can help him try and find the ideal candidate.”

“And what if someone tries to challenge him for that spot? What if Montross decides instead of sticking a knife in Jaster’s back, he wants to try and take the title of Mand’alor by force?”

“What if an asteroid crashes down on Jaster’s head tomorrow? Or he chokes on a warra nut? You can’t twist yourself up into knots over what-if scenarios. If someone gets it into their head they want to challenge Jaster for Mand’alor then it’ll play out how it plays out. I know Jaster has said in the past if someone really did want to push for the proverbial crown and he thought that person could do a better job than him then he wouldn’t even fight for it. Hell, he’d probably welcome it at this point.”

“Give him all the time in the world to work on his pet projects, yes I’ve heard that line before. More like he’d have all the time in the world to drive us all crazy. Do you think the True Mandalorians would follow this new Mand’alor or do you think they’d follow him?”

“Kark me, now you’re really asking the hard ones, aren’t you? I don’t know, kid. He was a True Mandalorian before he became Mand’alor, right? I suspect, if we’re talking hypothetical scenarios here, some would follow him no matter what. There’s no way someone like Myles would ever serve anyone else. Same for most of the old-timers. Where it would get interesting might be with some of the new blood.  Some of them grew up True Mandalorians but others like me? Vau? The ones who joined up later in life and maybe don’t have the same ties? I dunno. Me personally? I’d stick with Jaster because I know what kind of leader he is. And because there’s no way I would be able to convince Tani to join some other group. I guess we’ll have to see how things play out.”

“Yeah, I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” Jango didn’t sound very happy about that. 

“I think that’s also a thing you should consider talking with Jaster about as well. Now, come on. You need your rest and I need to go check in on Jaster because I’m laying pretty even odds on him getting distracted or roped into someone’s osik and I’ll have to drag him to bed by his ear kicking and screaming.” 

“A non-compliant patient? In this household?” 

“Wayii! You’re one to talk, young man. Get before I start snatching ears.” Mij mock threatened and made a claw-like pantomime movement like he was going to reach for Jango’s ear. 

The teenager sprang to his feet with a laugh and fell into a play-fighting pose. “Try me, old man.” 

“The disrespect, I swear. Get out of here and go lay down so I can use your compliance as blackmail material for your father. If you’re cooperating then I can remind him his kid is a better patient than he is and it’ll make my life all the easier. I might actually get some peace and quiet for once.”

“I don’t think you’d know what to do with it if you got it, Mij.”

The medic grimaced at that. “Out of the mouths of babes as the saying goes.” Mij snorted and climbed to his feet as well. 

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, Mij? Thanks, for the talk. And uh...keep what we talked about under your bucket for a while? Until I can actually talk to Jaster?”

“Of course, kid. My lips are sealed.” Mij clapped Jango on the shoulder as he left. 

[robin-hoodlum]

39, 29, 37, 13

39. If you wrote a ‘fix-it fic’, what would you write about?

I think I mentioned it somewhere but I want Jaster Mereel to have lived. This somehow helps, hinders and obliterates everything about canon. Imagine how happy this man would be if (somehow, I'm sure I could come up with something) the clones still came to be? That's so many kids he would be thriving.

29. Which character doesn’t get enough credit or screentime?

THERE ARE SO MANY!!! Not to mention how many characters I love that get NEITHER! Plo Koon, Kit Fisto, Jaster Mereel, Wolffe, Fox, Bail Organa, BREHA ORGANA, Jaster Mereel, Mace Windu, Kit Fisto, Cody, Jango, FEEMOR, QUINLAN VOS, Kit Fisto, JASTER MEREEL, etc.

37. Opinions on the Jedi?

Ok so. I'm just going to say RIGHT NOW that the Jedi Order, as a whole, was good. Now, that is not to say it was perfect. Nope. Nothing is. HOWEVER- I am REALLY sick of seeing how the Jedi wronged anakin or the galaxy or whatever. They did nOT. There are several points where it's very clear that the jedi LOVE anakin, they put up with so much SHIT for him, and there were clearly places where he could have sought help or asked QUESTIONS. Dear Force, they let him get away with WAR CRIMES.

Do I think some stuff could have been handled a bit differently? Yes, Mace could have been kinder or whatever BUT. BUT. It's clear he cares!

He banters with Anakin! He is tired of his shit (WHICH IS FAIR IMHO) but he never outright argues or is cruel, and if he does disagree, he makes clear and concise points on why! If someone calls that arguing, that's less of a problem with mace and more of a problem with personal communication.. I feel like a lot of people forget that, while they are part of the same order, all of the jedi are different people!!! They all have different ways of handling things, and NOT EVERYONE CAN BE AS PATIENT AS OBI-WAN KENOBI. People are so QUICK to be like "Oh the clones are all individuals and have beautiful different souls!" (Which is true) BUT THEN TURN AROUND AND ARE LIKE "All Jedi are supposed to be x.y.z, no questions asked. They should ALL be extremely patient and show nothing but love for every single person" FUck you

All of the Jedi have a relationship with Anakin, and you can see it through tcw really nicely. They have rules set in place because these folk have POWERS that can make or break ENTIRE PLANETS!!!! Look at VADER look at the DAMAGE he did because he didn't have any fucking control over his emotions! The Jedi made mistakes, sure! They were in a rough place, forced to become soldiers when they were, and will always be, peacekeeping space wizard monks.

Also Qui Gon is stinky.

13. Would you want to be a force user?

No