#ylliben skywalker

[phoenixyfriend]

So. Guess who commissioned the amazing @shukruut to do up late teens/early twenties Ylliben (time-traveler Obi-Wan) in A Child’s Ink? Specifically, with most of the tattoos he gains across the course of that fic.

Our boy is mid-workout and there are some very flustered Fellow Teens that he is either ignoring or genuinely does not notice.

(I say 'most' because there are a few I still haven't decided on for chapter three, and thus could not direct the placement or design of. I'll figure those out uhhhh eventually. At least two of them are probably on his legs anyway, so I'll just imagine that's what's going on, and you will presumably forgive me for being bad at Decisions if one of them doesn't quite match up with the art lmao.)

Some of these aren't definitive and if you want to imagine it differently, that's great! I definitely kept a few of them vague enough for reinterp! For me, half the point of this commission was to get an idea what was even going on so I could keep track of where he still had room for another tat in the years to come.

Flats under the cut! Plus, you can open the image in a new tab for Much Details.

[phoenixyfriend]

A Child’s Ink is still happening btw

[phoenixyfriend]

A Child’s Ink: Chapter Two

Read on AO3

Let's take a field trip to Little Sundari!

I actually started writing this almost immediately after I finished the first chapter. Then it grew too large and turned into "The Process of Acquiring a Padawan," a separate fic entirely, and only now have I finished The Depa Section.

I also haven't finished anything I actually like in months so I'm pretty happy to have completed something I actually care about.

A Child's Ink: First Chapter, Series: Anakin and the Jedi Babies

--

Depa’s first encounter with Ylliben Skywalker’s habit of collecting meaningful tattoos comes well before she is introduced to his true past, and even before she starts settling into the knowledge that her own figure is as Jedi Master. He is just an Initiate that she happens to spend sometime with. He is a friend, albeit a much younger one.

His father broaches the subject, first.

“Knight Billaba,” he greets, approaching her in the refectory. “I’m glad I could find you. May I sit?”

She gestures at the empty chair across the small table. “Of course. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Actually, yes,” he says. His smile is almost apologetic. “I may need a favor.”

“I’m listening,” Depa says.

“There’s this tattoo parlor in Little Sundari that I’ve gotten Ylliben an appointment at, to get his ink fixed. I was going to take him there myself, since he officially needs an adult escort until he’s fourteen, but I’ve been tapped in for a mission that clashes with the appointment. Rescheduling could push it out by weeks, even months. Would you be willing to go as his adult? I know it’s a bit of an ask, what with the distance, but I figured since you like the kid…”

Depa considers it. “When’s the appointment?”

“Next Centaxday, eleventh bell.”

She’s got a free spot on in her schedule then. No classes to teach or shifts to take, just some half-planned thoughts of sparring and research in her open time. “I’d be happy to. I’ve never been, actually. I imagine Ben would have an easier time than I figuring out how to navigate, and which restaurants are authentic, if we have time to explore.”

Skywalker grins at her, free and cheery. “I think he’d love the chance to play tour guide, yeah. Not that he knows the area, really, but…”

“I know what you mean,” Depa says. “I look forward to it.”

--

Depa picks up Ylliben from the Initiate dorms early, when the sun has only just risen. The train ride is a lengthy one, and she wants to skip over the crowds as much as possible. They’ll maximize the amount of time they spend in Little Sundari, this way.

When the doors open to release the child within, Ben isn’t quite sleep-rumpled, but he’s bleary-eyed and fighting a yawn. It’s a valiant effort at pretending he’s unaffected by the hour. Depa hides her amusement as best she can, just spreads her arms in an offer to hug.

Ylliben tips forward into her. He buries her face against her middle, fingers grasping at her outer tunic. He does not groan and moan as many a child his age would, but he does huff a soft little sigh of frustration as she hugs him back. Even Depa has to laugh at that, and ruffles his hair as she rocks and turns a little on the spot, letting Ylliben leach at her warmth.

“Early morning for you?” she asks.

“I couldn’t fall asleep as early as I tried,” he mumbles, “and I really tried.”

Poor baby, she coos in her mind. Instead, she assures him, “you can sleep on the train. Do you have everything you need?”

“Comm unit, credits for the ink, credits for lunch and discretionary spending,” Ben confirms. This is punctuated by another adorable little yawn.

Depa glances up past him to the crèchemaster, who nods. “He’s had a small breakfast and his morning medication, and I already got him signed out in your name, Knight Billaba.”

She nods back. “Thank you for being so accommodating.”

“Not at all,” the crèchemaster says. They tap Ben on the shoulder, prompting him to finally pull away from the cocoon of Depa’s robes. “Be safe, listen to Knight Billaba, and remember to comm if you’re going to be late.”

“Yes, Master Popolis,” Ben says, bowing politely despite the grumpiness he continues to radiate.

“And have fun,” Popolis adds.

Ben finally grins. “Yes, Master Popolis.”

“Shall we?” Depa asks as the door whooshes closed.

Ben takes a deep breath that’s certainly another attempt to mask a yawn, and almost manages to sound natural when he answers, “yes, Knight Billaba.”

“You know you can call me Depa,” she tells him, heading towards the hoverbus station in the next wing. “I don’t mind.”

“Kay,” Ben mumbles, eyes drooping despite being on his feet and actively walking.

She ushers him onto the bus, timed perfectly as they planned, and sits in the half-empty transport with full expectation that she’ll have an Initiate dozing against her side in moments. She is proven correct. The other passengers largely ignore them, being mostly commuters, who see Jedi on this route regularly. There is an elderly Rodian, however, probably somebody’s grandparent, who keeps looking up from their knitting to smile at the sight of little Ben half-asleep as he is.

It takes half an hour to reach the CoCo town interdistrict train depot, and then Depa is gently bullying ben to his feet and onto the hypertrain. He goes right back to his prior position, leaning into her side and drowsing like the child he is. She uses the trip to catch up on some reading, occasionally watching the cityscape pass her by. It’s been quite some time since she’s had reason to come this way, and never this far. Little Sundari is about half an hour further along this train than Depa’s ever traveled it before. It’s interesting, the way coruscant changes as they pass from old-continent CoCo town to basin buildings. Little Sundari is among the many “lower class” neighborhoods built on what was once the ocean floor. Little Keldabe, to her memory, is in a more affluent region, up on the plains section of a different past continent. Realistically, the reputation the basin districts have is exaggerated… but it’s technically true that Little Sundari is less than CoCo town.

However, that is because everywhere is less affluent than CoCo town.

They reach the Little Sundari train station two-and-a-half hours after leaving the Temple, and Ben wakes up with far more grace this time. They disembark, and Depa checks her comm.

“We have a few hours before your appointment,” she says, “and it’s a forty-minute walk. Knight Skywalker said you had a few things you wanted to show me on the way?”

Ben brightens, grabbing her hand and tugging. “There’s an uj’alayi shop that Bo told me about!”

“Bo?” Depa asks.

“The Duke’s younger daughter,” Ben says. “She’s a few years older than me, and she came to Coruscant a few years ago with her dad.”

“A friend of yours?”

Ben makes a face. “She’s… a lot.”

Depa stifles a laugh. “Is that so?”

The pout on him is adorable. “I prefer Satine.”

“And who’s that?”

“Bo’s older sister,” Ben says. “She’s a lot nicer, and she doesn’t bite when we spar.”

“Ben,” Depa says, patient as she can, “you bite in spars.”

The look he shoots her could be politely described as ‘disgusted.’

(Continue on AO3)

[phoenixyfriend]

SW Masterlist: In the Big Leagues

Navigation Post

Fun fact, tumblr allows 250 links on the old editor and 100 in the new. So. Network of masterlists

This post is for tumblr posts I've made that are specifically about one fic or another that made it onto AO3, including those that were previously on the Wider AUs masterlist.

Order:

One-offs

Sandstorm Verse (Flip the Hourglass)

Anakin and the Jedi Babies

Dimension Hopping to an Omegaverse (Bare Your Teeth, Soldier)

Commander Buir (This is Where the Story Starts)

Rex and Anakin Raise a Family

Fake Spontaneous Training Bond

Uncle Ben and Little Luke (Journey to the Center of the Galaxy)

Fake Sith TCW

Obi-Wan Declares Himself Dad-Shaped

TCW Leverage AU

ObiSabe AU (When the Bodyguards Hook Up)

Sticky Fingers AU

The Sexbot AU (Human Pleasure Droid)

Tread Upon the Wind

King, Soldier, Spy

Weapon Women

Parole Officer Fulcrum

System’s Scourge

Legally Horny

Jango Breaks Into Satine’s House

Fake Affair to Cover Up the Real Affair

Fett vs. Kamino Fertility Clinic and Sperm Bank

One-offs

A Candle in the Night - Anakin/Luminara (original)

Crossover between my Lumakin and Windwalker fics - Pt 2

The Way to a Boy's Heart is Through Violent Defensive Measures - Rex has difficulty with whiny AotC-flavor Anakin, a terrible flirt

Not Quite as Clever as a Fox - "I would kill for you.” “Great, here’s a list.”

Fett vs. Kamino Fertility Clinic and Sperm Bank - How this fic even happened, original post

In Which Anakin's Soulmate is a Lot Like Him, But More, and Worse - Adding some Pantress

Alert! Hot Young Single Dads in YOUR Area! - Street names are puns

Anakin Gets Pregnant and Causes a Scandal in Defense of the Jedi - Obi-Wan is just barely alien enough to have mating cycles (original)

Well, That's Not According to Plan - Rexanidala ft. pregnant transmasc Anakin (original)

General Kenobi and the Twins - General Kenobi and the Twins (original)

[redacted] - Hypnosis vs meditation

Amicable Anidala Divorce - Anidala Amicable Divorce (ft. whiny gay Anakin and “I can fix her” Padme/Ventress)

-

Sandstorm Verse: (chrono) (AO3) Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex time-travel to pre-TPM Tatooine, Anakin and Rex have to be fake married for Ahsoka's safety

Base Post

Fake Marriage Shenanigans

Wouldn't It Be Easier

Various Thoughts on Anakin Needing Therapy

Interaction exploration: - Dooku - Maul - Maul&Soka - Shmi - Anakin&Anakin - Mace

-

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: (chrono) (AO3)

* Anakin and the Jedi Babies

AatJB Addendum - whatever the fuck this was

* Jango Meets Soka (1.5k words)

* Names and Faces (6.5k words)

* Anakin, Shmi, and the Jedi Babies (3k words)

* Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Knightmares (1.6k words) - Ben just really loves banthas

* Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself) (5.8k words)

Winds of Change

The Conspiracy (of Anakin and his Jedi Babies)

JangoShmi and Jedi-Mando relations - Shmi finds out

Cultural comparison of Jedi/Mando/Tatooine

How doth yonder baby brain work

Ylliben Skywalker (hair and tattoos) - various related thoughts - * A Child’s Ink - Hi there’s art now! It’s by the amazing @shukruut - This is the outline btw

And this is the outline of the whole ‘verse (so far)

Pronunciation of names

The Kidnapping of Pre Vizsla

* Where There’s a Whill, There’s a Windu (2k words)

From when I was writing Child’s Ink - The same - Ibid. - New subplot

Why is Anakin not aging?

A specific fanart I plan to commission

I forgot Depa has a sister orz

-

Dimension Hopping to an Omegaverse: (nsfw) (Chrono) (AO3)

Base Post

Surrogacy, Worldbuilding, Obi-Mom

How to Build an Army - The Clone Risk

Soap Operas

Tatooine (2.2k words)

Meet the Generals

Interior Design

Country Dyke

“Assigning” Dynamics

Rexwalker Nonsenses

No Way Home

Warfare 101

Quinlan and the Interdimensional Ingenues (except not really)

Random thought about Omegaverse pregnancies

The Spikes Thing (nsfw, noncon mention, body horror)

Gland Guards

“Weren’t you dead?”

Padme’s marriage to someone who is not Anakin

Churning his brain like butter

Chandrila, Mon Mothma’s pronouns

-

Commander Buir: (chrono) (AO3) An excuse to let Cody be dad-shaped

Initial Brainstorming

Worldbuilding for the AU

Cody & Shmi Talk About General Kenobi

Qui-Gon Jinn enables Skybaby crimes

The Jango Incident - Just some age stuff

Rexsoka and the Quinlan thing

New Mandalore

Cody deserves to be petty

-

Rex and Anakin Raise a Family: (Chrono) (AO3)

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

TPM Era

-

Fake Spontaneous Training Bond: (chrono) (AO3)

Original post

gay

overbearing dad

undercover

various musings

Discussion of Fulcrum’s skills (see notes)

-

Uncle Ben and Little Luke: (chrono) (AO3)

Uncle Ben and Little Luke (3k words, basically a fic)

Auntie ‘Soka and Little Leia (and Rex) (25k words)

Thoughts on “Auntie Soka and Little Leia” (jokingly, a director’s cut)

Rex, Pint-Sized Battlemaster

Twins, meet TCW plots

Planned continuations

Why not Han+Vader

The process of writing Auntie Soka - Addendum

“Luke rolls his eyes”

Headcanon meme

Ben pins the dilf radar

-

Fake Sith TCW Trio: (chrono)

Fake Sith TCW Trio (7.5k words)

Thoughts, and perhaps feelings

Padawan Kenobi puts up with a lot

Writing this was a JOURNEY

GRITTY?

Why did I set this in Space!1930s NYC

Plotting the route from Rattatak to Tatooine

-

Obi-Wan Declares Himself Dad-Shaped: (chrono) (AO3)

Obi-Wan Declares Himself Dad-Shaped

More of “Obi-Wan Declares Himself Dad-Shaped”

“Game’s over you son of a bitch! Tell me where she is!”

Requested Headcanons

-

TCW Leverage AU: (chrono) (AO3)

TCW Leverage AU

The bit with Korkie

The Family Tree is… a Disaster (ficlet)

Family Tree charted out (with excerpts)

1970s Dooku/Sifo-Dyas by @uraaniuum

-

ObiSabe AU (AO3)

ObiSabe

Palpatine

Face Blindness among clones

-

Sticky Fingers AU (AO3)

Hondo Saves the Galaxy

Anakin the Distraction

Manipulating Anakain

-

The Sexbot AU: (chrono) (AO3)

The Sexbot AU

Rex and Boytoy Anakin

Pregnancy

Writing process jokes

Not a slowburn, but a raging inferno someone’s aiming a fire extinguisher at

Poor Quinlan

Wanna Smash

-

Tread Upon the Wind (and Chase the Sky)

Mace and Fives

Jaster’s opinion on swearing

Adventures in AO3 Tagging

Does this count as a Freedom Trail

Qui-Gon and Feemor

The King, the Soldier, and the Spy

Original version: The King, the Soldier, and the Spy

Writing the Intro

Time-travel or a break with reality?

Alas, poor Satine

Not Very Nice to Ahsoka 

Weapon Women in a Galaxy Far, Far Away

WandaVision/SW Prequels (original brainstorm)

Widows on Kamino (original brainstorm)

Reader response to Anakin getting a civics lesson in Witch’s Favor

Parole Officer Fulcrum Steals Three Million Babies

Ahsoka Steals Three Million Babies

Ahsoka with baby clone Glitch (art by @amikoroyaiart, commissioned work)

Ahsoka is Anakin’s Parole Officer

Systems' Scourge

Systems’ Scourge (original)

Addendum

Ahsoka’s helmet in time-travel AUs

Legally Horny

Legally Horny AU (original)

Fox and Padme need to talk about the politics before you guys can Bang

Reactions to Jango Breaks Into Satine’s House (And Criticizes Her Security)

the weird S*ltcoats thing

Using the fic as shorthand with discourse

Fake Affair (To Hide the Real Affair

Fake Affair to Cover Up the Real Affair (original)

Sexy Addendum, feat. baby twins folllowup

Shiny Rainbow Knife

Transfemme Anakin (original)

Shipping Musings

Fett vs. Kamino Fertility Clinic and Sperm Bank

Kamino Sperm Bank (original)

An additional Fertility Clinic joke, now with lawsuits

Modern AU Hardcase’s deadname

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: A Child's Ink

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

WARNINGS: underage characters get tattoos/piercings

Word Count: 5680 Rating: T Ships: primarily Gen (Disaster Lineage + Shmi), offscreen JangoShmi, past Obitine, past Anidala ----

Ylliben Skywalker is known as a preternaturally calm and quiet child, serious and pensive.

He jokes. He roughhouses. He is as responsive to tickle attacks and shoulder rides and warm hugs as any other child.

But he is Jetii'Manda, not just Mando'ade, and that fact is impossible to forget.

This is a child that can read before he can speak, a child who can talk at length about 'grassroots antiestablishment propaganda and its influence on rural sociological development' before he can say the words without a lisp. This is a child who looks a man in the eye and tells him to check over his blaster one last time, or it will explode in his hand only minutes into the next engagement. This is a child who is not only willing, but capable of discussing the plausible ramifications of Duke Adonai Kryze's latest decrees with Jaster Mereel himself, while still in possession of all his baby teeth.

(His father is not worried by this. Upset, sometimes, pained and tired, but not worried.)

(His sister only laughs.)

It is, as a result, not as surprising as it could be, when a six-year-old wanders his way into Na-Tsuyon's parlor and asks her what the risks of getting a tattoo at his age are.

"I'm not having that conversation with you unless your parent is here," she says. A few of the other artists crane their heads in her direction, but she waves them off.

"I'm not trying to get it right this moment," Ben protests. "I'm just gathering information. He said that was fine."

"Still need your parent here here," she tells him.

He leaves for about ten minutes, and then comes back with a tall, gangling figure in tow.

"I hear this isn't the place for unaccompanied minors," Knight Skywalker jokes.

(She has heard him called a General. She does not know which war he fought. Nobody does.)

(They no longer ask.)

"Well, he is young," she says, brushing her tentacles back over a shoulder. "I don't let anyone under human-fourteen get tattooed without a parent on hand, and giving preliminary information to anyone under twelve is... generally not worth it, shall we say."

Skywalker smiles, oddly amused in the way he always is when someone points out his children need supervision. "Glad to hear it. Are you the Na-Tsuyon whose name is on the door?"

"I am," she says. "And you're Knight Skywalker."

He's pleased at that. She can feel it in the chemical receptors of her head tails, and wonders. "Yep. So, do we jump right into the discussion or do you need me to sign something, or..."

"No, it's enough that you're here," she assures him. "Now, the main reasons we discourage tattoos for younger sentients is the distortion factor. While the level of pain is much lower than it would have been several millennia ago, and we have the technology to remove ink from below the skin, a tattoo before your body stops growing will distort as you grow and your skin stretches. You would need to come in yearly for touch-ups, to remove the sections that have moved out of place, and fill in where the ink is no longer settled."

"That makes sense," Ylliben says. He looks up at his father, and then back to her. "You'd be able to tell me if any of my choices would be... bad for a Mandalorian, yes?"

"I would," she confirms. She glances up at Knight Skywalker. "I don't suppose you have any history of getting tattoos?"

"No," he says. "I'm from Tatooine, so..."

Different connotations to the very act of it, for him.

She ducks her head in a nod. "I understand. Generally it's easier if the parent has experience in the process, but it's far from mandatory. You're willing to work with the distortion maintenance?"

"Yes'm," Ylliben says, and his father shrugs and gestures, as if the word of a six-year-old is thus law.

"I'll walk you through the details of the process, including the care, relevant allergies, and so on. I don't suppose you have anything in mind already?" she asks.

"I do," he says. He doesn't tell her what it is, yet.

Anakin Skywalker stays there the entire time, and they make an appointment for later in the week.

----

"My buir isn't my only father," Ylliben says quietly, when it comes time to get details on what he's getting tattooed. "I had another father before him. A Jedi. He died, to protect me, and a lot of other people. So, um..."

He shoves a picture to her, the symbol of the Jedi, plain and simple. She looks at him.

"In red," he says, shifting on his feet, looking up at his father and then back down at the page. "For, um, to honor a parent."

"Your first father was a Jedi?" she asks, gentle as she can.

"Mm-hm," Ylliben says. "He died, um... he saved buir from slavery, too, a long time ago. Both my dads were Jedi, and I'm going to be one, too, and so is Sokanth. It's--it's about where I come from, and--"

"You don't have to justify it if you don't want to," Na-Tsuyon tells him, reaching out to place one hand on his. It's very warm and dry, in her opinion, but she finds that most humans are. Mandalorians are some 80% human, or near human.

Nautolan Mandalorians aren't unheard of, but she's a rare one.

Ben sucks in a breath, and says, "I want it up here, on my right shoulder, like a pauldron."

Na-Tsuyon nods, and looks up to Skywalker. "You'll have to sign some papers to approve it, Master Jedi. You approve of the design?"

Skywalker hesitates, and then goes to one knee in front of his son, and speaks so quietly she can only hear "--remind you of the generator complex?"

Whatever Ben's answer is, it's too quiet for her to catch. It satisfies Skywalker, though, and he stands. "Alright, let's see this paperwork."

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a year later to get his slightly-twisting tattoo fixed, it's with Miss Shmi in tow. Na-Tsuyon greets the middle Skywalker, for all that she's still not entirely sure how to address the girl. "I heard you've been attending the university at Sundari. Some kind of engineering?"

"Mechanical, yes," Shmi says, oddly soft. "I'm going to spend another year to specialize in vehicular engineering. I'd like to design starships, since I already know how to fix them."

"A worthy goal," Na-Tsuyon says, as she leads them over to one of the stations and starts sanitizing Ylliben's inked shoulder. She doesn't entirely see why a university education is needed for something that, in her opinion, an apprenticeship could more thoroughly cover. It certainly worked well enough Na-Tsuyon herself. "You're on vacation, then?"

"I am," Shmi confirms. "It's... unfortunate that Anakin couldn't be here a the same time, but we'll see each other in a few days."

Ylliben fidgets for a bit as his jedi symbol is fixed, and then finally asks, "Ori'vod can approve new tattoos, right?"

"Sokanth, no. Shmi..." Na-Tsuyon looks up at her. "I have no idea if you're listed as his legal guardian anywhere, and I'd need proof of that."

"Secondary to Anakin," Shmi confirms. "Ben would like this to be a surprise for Ani."

Ben pulls out a sheet, with a careful design on it, and presses it into Na-Tsuyon's lap when she lifts the tattoo gun and he's not at risk of ruining his own ink. It's simpler than the Jedi symbol, though it's two colors instead of one.

"It's the Open Circle Fleet," Ben says, shy in a way she's given to understand he usually isn't. She thinks his shyer moments may be connected to admitting to emotion, something that he's tying quite closely to his choice of Tattoos. "I thought, um, since I'm already--already honoring one buir, then, er..."

"The Open Circle Fleet was under the command of my brother's Jedi Master," Shmi explains, one hand on Ben's. "And I am given to understand that the symbol was designed as a subtle nod, of sorts, to the two of them as a team. Ben's looking to honor Anakin as he has his first father."

Ben looks down at his lap, and doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes.

"Bring me proof of guardianship," she tells them. "And I'll make sure you get it finished early enough that the bacta comes off before Knight Skywalker makes it home."

She holds true to her word, and talks her way into being there to see the reunion and reveal.

The emotions that cross Skywalker's face are complicated and unexpected in ways that she can't identify.

Then it's all too simple, because he starts crying on little Ylliben in the middle of the hangar.

----

It doesn't take a full year for Ylliben to come in for another set. It's only five months, maybe six. He has a sketch again, a geometric design of something she doesn't recognize, but still pings as familiar for some reason.

"It needs to be the right shade of blue," he tells her, serious as anything. Knight Skwyalker is right next to him, smiling all soft and indulgent, and maybe a little sad. "It's for Soka."

Oh. This is based on her facial markings, then. Or... what they will be, maybe. This doesn't look quite like what she's seen on the girl, but everyone knows little Ben is more touched by visions than his father and sister.

Na-Tsuyon thinks she knows where this is going. "The same blue as her montrals and lekku?"

Ben shakes his head. "No, 501st blue."

Or not.

"It's close, but a little darker and more saturated," Skywalker offers, and shrugs when she looks his way. "It's a long story, but the 501st was the legion I led before I arrived at Mandalore. It had a specific shade of blue assigned for armor paint, so legions could easily identify each other in the field."

That's... odd. She doesn't ask for more detail, though. It's not her business. "Where do you want this one?"

Ben shows her his left forearm and frames a section about two-thirds the length of it, along the outer side. Like a vambrace.

She has a feeling all these symbols will be on his armor, once he's old enough for it.

"Let's go through my inks and see which one will work best," she says, and does not comment on the rest.

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a few months before his next touch-up appointment, he doesn't have an image on hand. His father is trailing him again, and Na-Tsuyon has a guess.

"Time for Shmi?" she asks.

Ben ducks his head, flushing and not meeting Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "Yes'm."

"I thought as much," she says, and smiles at Skywalker. "General."

"Don't start."

"There have been oh so many rumors flying since the last Jedi run-in, you know."

"I don't care," he grouses, dropping into a seat. "Hells, a man takes emergency command for one battle, and it's all anyone can talk about."

"You ended a civil war, sir."

Ben giggles into his hands as Skywalker groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.

"No respect," the man complains. "Ben, be nice to me, I'm your dad."

"Nuh-uh," Ben says. "I know all the most embarrassing secrets."

"A cruel child," Skywalker accuses. "Ruthless."

"You're the one raising me," Ben says, swinging his legs back and forth. He's got plastoid training vambraces, now, and greaves that clink against the legs of the chair.

"Somehow, yes." Skywalker sighs, with great drama and all such things. He drags himself up to sitting. "Anyway. Moving on."

"Do you have something in mind already?" Na-Tsuyon asks.

"Binary suns," Ben says. "Just two overlapping circles, coin-sized, one bigger than the other, in sunset colors. In a gradient, with a sort of... flare to it? Halo? The... oh! The stellar corona. Buir knows the colors better."

"I want to see what you have to work with before I sketch out the design," Skywalker says. "But yeah, sort of pink and yellow and peachy."

"I can do almost any color," Na-Tsuyon promises. "Especially on fair human skin like Ylliben's. I won't have a problem getting those to show up the way I would on myself."

Na-Tsuyon is a color most would call 'aquamarine.' She's a light shade between blue and green, and much as she likes her skin, it's an absolute pain to make red and orange show up.

She can do it.

It's just annoying.

Ben asks for this one to be on the inside of the left forearm, high and opposite to the widest point of the mark for Sokanth.

----

"Can I see your fonts?"

Ben's alone, for the moment, but Na-Tsuyon knows that when he makes his decision, his father or Shmi will approve it without question. It's no harm to let him browse.

"Basic, Mando'a, or Huttese alphabet?" she asks. "Or something more esoteric?"

"Mando'a, please."

He's eight years old, now. He's still far younger than most of her clients, but she's long gotten used to him. Even when he's acting like a child, there's something to it that doesn't quite sit right. 'Born middle-aged,' a few of the other civilians on base had joked.

She wasn't sure if she thought it was just a joke, these days.

Na-Tsuyon passes her fonts book to the boy, and settles back in her chair for a long afternoon of running numbers. He, meanwhile, goes to sit in the lobby, legs still not long enough to reach the floor, paging through with unwavering, unsettling gravitas.

Half an hour, and then Ben returns.

He points to a font. "This one."

"What's it going to say?"

"Vode An," he tells her, as serious as can be. "In black, over my heart. It's important."

"It's a fairly common phrase," she notes idly. "Should be quick."

She doesn't expect much of a response, and certainly not the one she gets.

"It was different for them," Ben mutters, not looking at her. She sees him twisting the toes of one shoe into the floor. "It was... it was different. I can't talk about it. They were brothers, actually brothers, and they had--they had nothing, they were basically slaves, but--"

"You don't have to talk about it," Na-Tsuyon assures him, a hand on his. "You don't have to explain it to me. If it means something to you, that's all that matters. I just need you to be sure."

"And buir to sign the paperwork," Ben quips, smiling at her. She notices that several teeth are missing. It's cute. "You need that too."

"That too," she agrees.

When Skywalker shows up, he hears what it is that Ben would like, and makes a few suggestions for a border--a gear that sounded too much like the Republic's symbol for a Mando'a phrase, a building on stilts from a city she's never heard of on a planet that rings no bells, a human genetic strand for reasons she can't imagine--most of which are soundly ignored, until Skywalker sketched out a stylized ship of... some sort.

"Venator," Skywalker says, and taps the image. "Nobody will know it except us, but it'll mean something to you, for them."

Ben looks at it for a long moment, and then takes the scrap of flimsi with Mando'a on it and lays it overtop the center of the sketch.

He stares at it for a few long moments, and then nods sharply and pushes it to Na-Tsuyon. "This, please."

He's such a polite child.

It makes it easier to ignore the more confusing parts of his presence in her parlor.

----

"Hi!"

Sokanth Skywalker is in her shop.

That's new.

"Hello," Na-Tsuyon says. "I didn't know you were thinking of getting ink."

"I'm not," she says, hopping up on a stool across the counter. She holds out a hand, and Na-Tsuyon clasps it with bemusement. "But you guys do piercings too, right?"

"We do," she confirms. "You're... ten?"

"Yep!" Sokanth chirps, kicking her legs back and forth. "Is that old enough to get these without permission, or should I ask my dad to come by?"

"At least twelve for piercings without in-person, signed approval from a parent or guardian," Na-Tsuyon says. "Though if you're anything like your brother, I don't imagine that'll be a problem for you."

Sokanth grins at her, bright and a little wild. "Nose, bottom lip, eyebrow. I don't know the actual terms, but I know what I want. Which do you suggest getting first?"

"I'd say nostril," Na-Tsuyon tells her. Most species even vaguely humanoid kick off with the ears, but that's not exactly an option for a togruta. "Let me get a chart and you can figure out what type of piercing you want, and what kind of hoop or stud. I don't actually do the piercings myself, though. Comm the General if you want this done today, though."

"Thank you~!"

----

Nostril, labret, and a horizontal brow, the piercer notes down at the end of the latest Skywalker visit. Na-Tsuyon wonders if the brow piercing will look strange with Soka's markings, and then doesn't think on it further.

----

Ylliben, almost nine, is silent as he gets the touch-up.

His father isn't here. Neither is Shmi. It's pre-approved, signed permission and all, but it's still odd that neither of Ben's adults is here.

Sokanth is, but she's almost as quiet as Ben is.

Na-Tsuyon has heard the rumors, but she's not going to say anything. She's not. It's not her business.

"Ben," Soka speaks up, towards the end of the appointment. "Ask her the thing."

Ben shakes his head. "No way."

"She knows more about tattoos and how important they are than anyone!" Soka urges. "Ask her!"

"Do you want to wait for your father?" Na-Tsuyon suggests.

"No!" both immediately yelp.

She pauses, glad the needle hadn't been to skin, and levels a look at Ben. He flushes and settles down, mumbling an apology for jerking as he had. She goes back to fixing the stretch of the binary suns tattoo.

Soka shifts in her seat, watching them intently.

"Shmi's upset with buir," Ben suddenly says. He doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "I'm... I don't know if you heard what's going on."

"I do my best to avoid rumors," she says, keeping her voice as neutral as she can. "I did hear that the Mand'alor is about to have a grandchild, and something about an upcoming wedding. That much has been announced officially."

"Dad freaked out," Soka says, legs kicking back and forth. "He's happy for her, and he's fine with Jango being the other parent, but it kicked off a... philosophical crisis? Ben, what do you think?"

"Metaphysical, maybe," Ben mumbles. "Definitely existential."

"And he told Shmi some stuff and now she's hurt that he didn't tell her before and it's all a mess," Soka finishes. "So, uh, we don't... want either of them involved. Until. Um. Until that's settled."

Na-Tsuyon bites back any deeper questions she might have. "Alright. I won't pry. What did you want to know from me?"

"I had a plan for what I was going to get next," Ben says, staring at the fold of fabric over his sister's knees in lieu of something more pertinent. "A peace lily, on the inside of my wrist, for..."

"You don't have to tell me," she reminds him.

Ben bites his lip, and closes his eyes, and breathes in deep. Neither of the girls comment.

"She was important," Ben finally says. "In the big memories. But she doesn't... she's not... she isn't here. And Jango is. And he's marrying Shmi, and they're having a baby, so I should put a mark down for him first, right?"

"He's gonna be Mand'alor, too," Soka adds.

"He is," Na-Tsuyon says, as neutral as she can.

"He's joining the family," Ben says, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. "And there's going to be a baby, and that's. That's important."

"There's no order that you have to get things in," Na-Tsuyon assures him, squeezing his shoulder in a light gesture of support. "You've prioritized family so far, so I think it would make sense to get a mark for the coming cousin, at least. Unless... is the lily for your birth mother?"

Ben's face twists, uncomfortable for some reason she can't begin to guess at.

"No," Ben says.

"Skyguy's Jedi Master did almost marry her when they were younger," Soka explains. She glances at Na-Tsuyon and then away and at the wall. "They had a whole dramatic 'forbidden romance' thing going on, 'cause Jedi aren't supposed to get married. She died before Ben came into the picture, though."

It's a neat enough explanation.

It feels fake, but much of what the Skywalkers say about their pasts does.

She's sure it's true in some way. In some perspective. From... from a certain point of view, maybe.

"Alright, then," Na-Tsuyon dismisses. "All things aside, I would suggest adjusting your order of tattoo acquisition, but there's no particular requirement by Mandalorian standards. Your choices are rarely anything that intersects with set traditions, nor do you have a historic clan or house that comes with mandates of the sort. It seems that you're leaning towards prioritizing something for the new additions to your family, though; you've made it clear that these things are important to you, and I think you should pursue it if you're comfortable with it."

Ben nods, eyes somewhere far off.

"It'll make him flustered," Soka pushes, kicking lightly at her brother's ankle. "Jan-Jan's still worried you don't like him anymore."

"He is not," Ben huffs. "He's just scared of buir."

"Nah, your opinion matters too," Soka argues. "And you've been avoiding everyone 'cuz Skyguy freaked out and Shmi's upset, so Jango's worried you're mad at him about the baby happening. If you get a tattoo about him, he might actually cry."

"Is that why you want me to take that route?"

"Not the only one," Soka says, utterly guileless. She blinks at him, bright and innocent. "But I definitely do want to see the future Mand'alor crying because you made it obvious he's family now. It'll be funny."

Ben sighs, very clearly being dramatic about it. "Soka, I'm not going to pick a tattoo based on what you think will be funny."

"Imagine his face, though."

Na-Tsuyon doesn't comment at the expressions Ben makes as he very clearly does exactly that.

"Well, kriff," Ben sighs, and Soka giggles at the swear. "I'll have to get a tattoo for Jango, then."

----

Ben is already nine by the time he comes in with his father to actually get the tattoo for Jango's addition to the family. The choice he makes isn't particularly imaginative, but it'll suit well enough. A mythosaur skull, the symbol of the Haat Mando'ade, in a grey the same shade as beskar.

There actually are traditions to this one, specific adjustments to the framing and stylization meant to indicate how one fits into the faction, but also how one is associated with the Mand'alor. Ben is family, and close family, but not related by blood, nor adopted directly by the Mand'alor, rather a relative through the riduur be alor.

Na-Tsuyon explains each element and adjustment in detail, lets them process and agree, until she's taking a needle to Ben's skin once more.

"Will you be getting one for the coming child as well?" Na-Tsuyon asks while shading in a curve of bone.

"Not yet," Ben tells her, quiet and oddly contemplating. "I need to meet them, first. Figure out who they are."

"Sensible," she agrees. There's the usual oddity in his phrasing, and she ignores it as ever. "Did you tell Fett that you were getting this?"

"No, it's intended as a surprise," Ben says, watching her work.

She can almost feel the coming question.

It does not come from the human she expects.

"Do you know any Mando tattoo artists in Little Keldabe?" the General asks, voice low.

She finishes the line she's on, lifts the needle away from skin, and turns to him. "You're leaving for Coruscant?"

"Not yet," Skywalker says. He meets her eyes evenly. "But... soon. The time's coming. A year, maybe two. The Force will let us know when the time is right."

"Uh-huh," Na-Tsuyon acknowledges this. She does not comment further. The Force is not her wheelhouse. If they think it wants them back on Coruscant, with the Temple, then that's what they believe.

"These are Mando work," Skywalker continues, almost painfully earnest, "and I'd like to ensure whoever maintains them until Ben stops growing knows the right way to handle Mando art."

It's really not that different from a standard tattoo artist, but she's a little charmed anyway. Enchanted, almost. The man really does care.

"I can get you some names and addresses next time you stop by," she promises him. "It's been a few years since I checked in on their work, and I'll need to look them over before I make any recommendations."

He smiles at her, relieved in a manner she finds appallingly open for a Jedi like himself.

Ben mimics his father.

----

She gets to attend the wedding, months later.

The food is very, very good.

(Ben waits until the reception to show off his new tattoo, and the future Mand'alor does, in fact, cry.)

(So does Shmi.)

(So does their eight-week-old daughter, but that's probably unrelated to the tattoo.)

----

"Do you think getting a belly button ring would be good?"

Na-Tsuyon doesn't lift her head from her paperwork when Sokanth poses the question to the piercer. She's in for the horizontal brow bar, this time, and the labret is going to be somewhere a few months down the line.

"That's really up to you," the piercer says. His name is Hujnak, and he's a Devaronian that's been working here since Na-Tsuyon opened up the place. She loves him dearly, but he stole the last piece of cake and for that he will have no help with difficult customers for the next fortnight.

Or until she gets bored.

"I'm leaning towards 'no,' but I'm not sure," Soka muses. "I like the idea of it, but I feel like it might get snagged on things more easily. Plus, it's going to be a point of higher damage and pressure if I get a gut punch. It's one of the parts of my body I'm never really going to armor up, you know?"

They do know. There have been screaming matches about all the Jedi's refusal to wear enough armor on many occasions. The Jedi prioritize their agility to such a degree that armorweave is more reasonable than actual armor, in their opinion. This is an opinion that Fett and Mereel both take issue with.

At great volume.

(Shmi has vambraces, a gorget, and greaves, Na-Tsuyon knows. Some of it was exchanged at the wedding. Shmi doesn't wear much armor, certainly less than even the children. Shmi, crucially, isn't a warrior or otherwise planning to see battle.)

"Then I would say it may be best to hold off."

"Phooey," Soka says, though she doesn't seem particularly upset. "Ben's gonna be cooler than me forever, then."

"You think tattoos are cooler than piercings?" Hujnak challenges. "I'm offended."

"He can just get more," Soka protests. "Without it looking weird or getting dangerous, I mean."

Hujnak hums, noncommittal. "And you're worried about being cooler than the younger brother you have told me is, and I quote, the biggest nerd ever?"

"Well, yeah," Sokanth scoffs. "He's gonna start acting older than me as soon as he thinks he can get away with it. I gotta have something to hold over his head, you know?"

"Seeing as you are the older sibling..."

"Ehhhh..."

Nope.

Not paying attention.

----

"These are House Kryze colors."

Ylliben's breath hitches.

He is ten. He doesn't seem ready to provide answers. She turns to the father instead.

"Will that be a problem?" the general asks, calm and even.

"Yes," she says, and Ben slumps. She continues, because this is her job, and for a reason. "Unless you have a ready justification for when House Kryze asks, yes, it will be a problem. If it were a landscape or an animal, it wouldn't matter, but the pairing of the colors and the peace lily is an explicit statement of loyalty to Adonai and his heir, Satine. Unless you've suddenly decided to adjust your political stance to total pacifism instead of your Jedi approach, or have another reason to take on House Kryze colors, I'd warn against it at all, and would refuse to perform the work myself."

Ylliben's eyes are fixed somewhere behind her, and shining wetly.

"Okay," the general says. "Ben, do you have any other pallettes in mind?

"These were her colors," Ben whispers, and then he swallows thickly. "I just..."

"Simplify," Skywalker suggests. He fiddles with a necklace half-hidden in his Jedi layers; the japor one is visible, but a dull gold glint is all Na-Tsuyon can see of the other before it's tucked away again. "She'd understand, yeah? There's political ramifications. Dangerous ones, especially to you."

Interesting thing to say about a woman who, by Soka's earlier statements, died well before Ben was born.

They could at least try to stop dropping hints about their oddities. She doesn't want to know more.

"Lilac," Ben finally decides. "And... pale silver. With a filigree pattern in the shading?"

"I can do that," Na-Tsuyon promises.

She does not ask further.

----

"We're moving to Coruscant in a month."

Na-Tsuyon's head snaps up, head tails jolting almost painfully with the movement.

Sokanth is getting her labret, finally. She's gossiping as Hujnak prepares the tools, as usual, and Na-Tsuyon tries to ignore it when they Skywalkers do that, she does, but...

"You're leaving," she repeats, feeling oddly blank.

"Um... yeah?" Soka answers. She scratches at one stubby montral. "We've talked about it before. I thought you knew."

"I didn't realize it was so soon," Na-Tsuyon defends. She's more upset than she should be. "I thought you'd be waiting until the little princess was older."

Sokanth blinks at her, slow and... not judging, no. Evaluating, maybe.

"I'm almost thirteen," she says, slow and deliberate and heavy. "And Ben's eleven. There's no hard age limit for becoming a padawan, but I'm getting into the peak years for getting chosen, and I've been living here instead of in the Temple. I haven't had years to impress a potential Master like the others. That might not matter; sometimes a Master sees their future student and just knows, but... I need to have other Jedi to spar with, not just Skyguy and Ben. And Ben's visions are getting stronger, and Dad was never that good with his own in the first place, so he's worried about being able to help at all. We could stay longer, but..."

She trails off, and shrugs, and the weighted air disappears. "It's not the same thing as a verd'goten, at all, but it's about the same age, you know? I should be in the Temple for it."

"What would a verd'goten equivalent be?" Hujnak prompts, when Na-Tsuyon fails to find her words. "Being an adult and equal member and all such things?"

"Knighthood," Soka answers immediately. "Dad got knighted when he was twenty, but that's really young, usually. His master was knighted at twenty-five, which was a bit late, but apparently there was a whole dramatic thing going on there that Dad never got all the details about."

"Becoming a Padawan is a sign that your teachers see you as someone that is ready to take on the responsibilities of a Jedi, yes?" Hujnak asks. "That you may not be ready to go out on your own, but that you're old enough to understand your oaths and choose how to follow them, and to protect others?"

Sokanth considers this, and then nods. "Yeah, I guess it's similar to using the verd'goten to gauge if someone's ready to swear the Resol'nare, that way. Still not moving out, and just about entering an apprenticeship, but enough of an adult to make the choice of how to change the world."

"I think most cultures have something like that around the same age," Hujnak comments. "Some do it a bit later in the teens, but it's usually around your age that most... well, most cultures who age at the 'human standard' rate--"

Na-Tsuyon can't help the reflexive snort of derision. Neither can Soka. Hujnak, the closest to human in the room and yet still very much not, smiles like this is exactly what he intended.

"--most who age at that rate do have it somewhere in that eleven-to-seventeen range, I'd think."

Soka shrugs. "Yeah, well. Still gotta go to the Temple for it, you know?"

"Are you going to take the verd'goten at all?" Na-Tsuyon asks, suddenly a little desperate to keep the Skywalkers here, with Mandalore and all its people, just a fraction of a moment longer.

"I don't think so," Soka muses. "I've been thinking about it, but I should probably talk about it with Jango, yeah?"

"Yeah," Na-Tsuyon says, and feels like she's swallowing down around rocks.

----

As it turns out, the timing is very deliberate. Three weeks later, Jaster transfers the title of Mand'alor to his son.

(Though Na-Tsuyon does not know this, twenty-six is older than Jango was when he lost the title, once upon another life.)

There is a week of festivity. There is food, and drink, and dancing. Some people get married. Some people make announcements of impending births. Some people reveal songs they composed in preparation for this very day.

For a week, Mandalore celebrates a new king.

Then, the Jedi and his children leave.

(Ben gives Na-Tsuyon a hug before he goes.)

(She tries to understand why she feels like she's losing something when he does.)

[phoenixyfriend]

Commander Buir

Follow-up to this post. Not in any particular order, just spitballing ideas, with contributions from several friends on discord.

Like presumably it takes long enough for them all to meet up again that Anakin and Cody do, in fact, end up treating each other like family, just so I can have that good good "well, guess I'm Dad now" energy. Shmi isn't entirely sure what's going on but she's not a slave anymore and her kid seems to like this rando mando, so.

Anakin gets to have a mom and two dads, though one of the dads is arguably younger than him.

Also when they all meet up again and Cody explains the "General Skywalker got shrunk" thing, there are three reactions: (General) Obi-Wan: Oh, Anakin. Obi-Wan: [gestures to take him, ends up with an armful of clingy padatoddler] Anakin: You can't blame this on me, Obi. Obi-Wan, a little teary, because babies cause emotions: Of course I can, you absurd human being. ------ Rex: That's... my general. Anakin: I am, Captain. Rex: Cool cool cool I'm gonna go stand where I can't, uh, break you. Anakin: I'm not THAT fragile! ------ Ahsoka: [gasp] Skyguy is SKYKID! Anakin: Padawan, this is-- Ahsoka, grabbing him and cuddling: Oh my goodness you're adorable this is the best day ever. Anakin: This is humiliating, Snips, put me down. Ahsoka: Never.

Anakin hates being a toddler because of the lack of independence but Cody keeps picking him up when he's cranky and just holding him until he falls asleep and that's... nice.......

- The brain limitations aren't quite as bad as the situation with Sokanth and Ylliben in the other AU, but - Even if his brain is mostly adjusted he’s still got a tiny body with different needs that he’s not used to. Like, he needs to sleep more but he’s got more energy than usual when he’s awake and it’s all weird.

Cody carrying around toddler Anakin like "God you give me ulcers but you're adorable, you little shit."

Inconveniently tiny body aside, Anakin has a pretty great time in this au. His family are all together and safe and within reach. His wife isn't around, but toddler brain means he doesn't have the Romance Drive, so that's not as bad as it could be It could be significantly worse.

@atagotiak asked: Does Anakin get annoyed about being called cute? - To which I say, He bites the first few times but Shmi tells him that's Naughty so he stops. - Babies are cute so you packbond with them before they’re annoying, Anakin is cute as a self defense mechanism - He’s extra annoying so he needs to be extra cute

You know how you need to keep an eye on toddlers so they don't, like, fall down the stairs or put something toxic in their mouth? - They need to keep an eye on Anakin specifically so he doesn't rewire the ship they're in while they're in hyperspace. - He has less self control on account of being smol. He still has all the mechanical knowledge! Just less comprehension of y’know, consequences.

Anakin, with a sippy cup: This is demeaning. Ahsoka: Your hands don't work great enough to avoid accidents yet. Anakin: It's still embarrassing.

General Kenobi can't just kill Maul, not when Maul is baby right now (sixteen, which is baby enough) so he just. Kinda. Kidnaps a baby Sith. (It's fine. He's fine.)

General Kenobi (not to be confused with Padawan Kenobi) decides to declare Maul his new padawan because someone has to deal with this teenager, and Plo already claimed the rest of Ahsoka's training. And Anakin's three, so.

"What do we do with Maul?" "Eh, I can handle him. I dealt with teenage Anakin getting arrested for illegal pod-racing twice a month, I can work with this."

Maul bites, but only slightly more often than Anakin, it's fine

Ahsoka definitely bullies Maul whenever possible

Consider: Rex holding very still because Anakin wanted to be tall, so he climbed Rex. Being unexpectedly climbed is better than being unexpectedly yeeted. It's still extremely nerve-wracking. - Cody is perfectly capable of running around with a backpacking toddler General, but Rex freezes like a statue. - Ahsoka finds this hilarious

You know how little kids like to be thrown around and swung in circles and stuff like that? This must get even more ridiculous with force users. Can throw a child real high and catch them safely. - Rex panics whenever Ahsoka throws her chibified Master

Literally everyone except Rex loves being yeeted. Even Maul can appreciate a good tactical yeet no shut up he's not having fun this is TRAINING - Rex is Suffering - Cody, a very Tired Dad, deserves to mock his vod'ika a little, as stress relief - Rex, a certified Little Brother, shoves Cody off something tall. Jokes on him, Cody thinks freefall is fun too.

Tia asked: So the people who didn’t exist yet got flung bodily back in time and Anakin did the mental time travel. Why did Obi-Wan not become Padawan Kenobi? (I mean “because I want it that way” is def a good enough answer I’m just wondering if there’s any reason.) - Which, well, it really was mostly "I want to" but here's two options, both of which come down to Blame Daughter and Father. 1. They figured a responsible adult Jedi Master was needed to convince people. 2. Nobody was supposed to get de-aged but Daughter figured they needed to make Anakin less liable to kill things for a few years. - Also IDK the Force God-Manifestations also took away any risk of rapid aging and early death from the clones because uhhhhhhhhhhh I said so

Rex and Ahsoka are fumbling their way through a relationship where ages are just really confusing and awkward, so they're keeping it to just kisses and cuddles for a bit.

Cody is so tired he doesn't even realize anyone's hitting on him until it's been three years of co-parenting with Shmi and his General. - Somehow Anakin knows Cody is in a relationship before Cody does. Cody has never been so embarrassed. - How did he manage to be less observant than Skywalker? -- it was sabotage; all his brain cells were taken up in managing said Skywalker -- Because Skywalker was up at three in the morning whacking a training droid with a stick so he didn't have the energy for Relationships

Also Shmi's come-ons are super subtle, while the General's are... well, Cody's gotten very used to ignoring anything ambiguous on that end because fraternization rules, and also because Obi-Wan flirts a lot with everyone. So.

Please imagine Cody and General Kenobi walking around with Anakin tucked into a toddler sling while they do whatever work they've ended up with at the Temple. - Yes, Cody is helping the Jedi figure out the best plan of attack to take down this slave ring because his grasp on tactics is phenomenal and he knows how to deploy people at greatest efficiency, but also he's got a nosy toddler on his hip who keeps offering his own insane-but-competent ideas. - General Kenobi ends up with a Council Seat just on account of, like, being the kind of person he is. As often as not, he's got Anakin tucked into his robes, chewing on the ear of a stuffed tooka or something.

IDK what Shmi's doing but apparently Legends had it that some of the administrative and support positions in the Temple were held by non-Jedi civilians? So probably something like that.

GENERAL KENOBI LECTURING PADAWAN MAUL WHILE ANAKIN'S BALANCED ON HIS HIP AND GLARING AT MAUL FOR STEALING HIS DAD

General Kenobi: Ahsoka's babysitting. Anakin: I'm her master, I don't need babysitting, this is-- General Kenobi: Fine, then you need supervision, so that you don't blow up a training salle again. Anakin: And you think Ahsoka would stop me? General Kenobi, eye twitching: Fine, I'm leaving you with Plo.

Even if he’s mentally an adult Anakin always needs supervision Look at canon! Anakin was left without supervision for like two days and he became a Sith

Quinlan gets distracted by how attractive General Kenobi is and tells Obi-Wan "dude, you're gonna be so hot once you can get rid of the stupid haircut" and Obi-Wan pushes him into the nearest pond.

They end up with this weird "Uncle Jango" situation (uncle to Anakin, via weird brotherhood-ish to Cody) because Rex and Cody are just like "Uhhhhhhhhh yeah okay" about him eventually, and Jango just like. Drops by. Trying to Earn Affection Of Blood Kin by bringing weird gifts for them and their (ugh) Jedi.

"Okay, Rex'ika, I stopped by Shili--" "What?" "--and apparently this is a delicacy there, so just... your girlfriend will like it." "She's not my girlfriend." "..." "Okay, I can't call her my girlfriend. Jedi have rules about that sort of thing, and--" "This will make your Jedi happy, probably. Just take it, kid."

Baby Anakin got his arm back but for some inexplicable reason still has The Eye Scar. He matches Buir.

[phoenixyfriend]

The Process of Acquiring a Padawan: Part Two

(Read on AO3)

Fic Summary:

Depa's probably in way over her head, but this feels right. Unfortunately, her hope for a padawan is a formerly adult, formerly Master, formerly General Jedi from several decades in the future, and that's... complicated.

Excerpt from Chapter Two:

When Depa is newly twenty-one, she is knighted. A scant few months later, the Skywalkers come to the Jedi Temple, and remain. She doesn’t run into them immediately, but it’s not long before she does.

They look much the same as they had when she first met them. Ben has grown a little taller, filled out a smidgen. Soka has done so as well, with added notes of having more defined markings, and longer lekku. Master Skywalker himself looks absolutely unchanged.

Some of the padawans a few years younger than her consume themselves with giggling over how attractive the man is. Even Komari, who’s older than Depa, seems distracted.

(If Depa’s ever needed proof of her own lack of attraction, especially to men, this would qualify.)

“Hello, Knight Billaba,” Ylliben says when he finds her. He is prim and proper, the very picture of a deferential Initiate if not for the armor he still wears. It doesn’t make him any less polite, but it does jar the image away from being a cliché. “I met my cousin. Did anything interesting happen with you? Besides getting knighted, I mean.”

“Oh? Is knighting not interesting enough for you, Initiate Skywalker?”

He eyes her as if he’d like to make a joke to that effect right now. She waits, and does not even try to hide the glow of her amusement when he visibly decides against it.

“I have a baby cousin now,” he tells her instead. “Shmi and Jango had a daughter. Buir had a lot of emotions about it.”

“I can imagine,” Depa says.

“Would you to like to see pictures?” Ben asks. He smiles, brighter than she remembers. “If you aren’t busy with important knighthood things, of course.”

“Brat,” Depa accuses. It’s almost unwillingly fond. “Yes, I would love to see pictures of Shmi’s baby.”

His grin widens.

--

“With Master Koon? Really?” Depa asks. “So quickly?”

“Why are you so surprised?” Master Skywalker asks, spinning his saber as he circles her like a prowling nexu. Depa isn’t exactly standing still, but she’s definitely moving far less than he is.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I suppose I was expecting that, when he took another padawan, Master Koon would find someone like Master Tholme again.”

“Oh, you know better than that, Billaba.”

She’d laugh, but she’s a little busy avoiding his opening strike for this spar. It is not their first of the afternoon, but she’s lost the last three and rather expects this will go the same. The initial flurry of blows dies down, and he has critiques.

He’s one of the best duelists in the Order, and so she listens. She’d already known he was dangerous—deadly, mostly—with a saber, but it’s taken scarcely any time for his skill in saber-to-saber combat to be tested, confirmed, and grapevined out among the Temple at large by anyone with a shred of interest.

(Given the number of padawans and younger knights that are sighing their way to la la land because of this man, ‘a shred of interest’ applies to a very large number of people.)

It also hasn’t escaped notice that Skywalker, for all his aggressive oddities, has the ear and respect of the High Council. He’s little more than a stranger to the Temple, so this, in conjunction with his mysterious past and specific skillset and children, certainly raises more than a few brows and suspicions.

Master Mace trusts them. He’s even on the High Council himself, now, if only as a the most junior member. Depa trusts Mace’s judgement, and so she trusts Skywalker. Mostly.

(She may or may not still have nightmares about Death Watch and the rescue Skywalker had mounted.)

“I also,” she says, once his discussion on her weak points is over, and they’re back to circling, “was somewhat expecting Sokanth to be apprenticed to a more combat-oriented Jedi.”

“She has me, if she wants to fight or fly or fix droids,” Skywalker tells her. He strikes and withdraws before Depa can retaliate. It’s infuriatingly quick. “She deserves a master that knows who to round her out, to teach her how to be the best of herself.”

“Which you can’t?” Depa prompts. She isn’t entirely sure what it is that she’s even asking.

“She’s my daughter, not my padawan,” Skywalker says, with a flip, spin, and strike that jars her to the bone. She blocks in time, but it’s still stronger than most of her sparring partners bother with. “I’d never be allowed on missions with her. I’m far too attached, and thus compromised, to remain unbiased. I could never put the mission ahead of her, even if there were hundreds of lives that could rest on sacrificing hers, and… well, the whole Council knows it.”

“She,” Depa says, and has to pause to block, drop, and roll to another position. She huffs once she’s back on her feet, and lets herself pout at Skywalker. “She still lives with you.”

Skywalker shrugs. “It’s easier on everyone that way. I move in next to Master Koon, put her in the padawan room, and that way she’s within seconds of him, just like if they were actually sharing a suite, without anyone having to worry overly much about the O­­­­2 situation.”

“And Ben,” Depa manages to say as she attacks, though she is immediately parried, “stays in the crèche.”

“New kids always need friends,” Skywalker says, with the wryness of experience, “it’ll be good for him.”

“Until a master takes him on,” Depa points out.

“Eh,” Skywalker dismisses. “He’s got time.”

That he does.

--

It’s not… intentional, really, that Depa spends quite so much time with the Skywalkers. She’s one of the few people they really know on arrival, and that’s a good start. Mace is friendly enough with Skywalker and Master Koon and Master Jinn to get invited to the ‘family’ dinners.

Master Mace is much younger than Jinn and Koon, but they get along well enough. Unfortunately, even Depa isn’t privy to the why or how behind the particular peculiarities of that friendship. Tholme and Feemor, the latter of whom is actually older than Master Mace, and both of whom were there, aren’t telling. Depa is jealous.

These family dinners are frequent. Depa isn’t sure if she’s being invited as Mace’s plus one—he and Master Skywalker are definitely friends by now, no matter how weird they get about it—or if she’s there because, as a result of shared traumas and somesuch events, she’s considered the first friend Soka and Ben ever had here. It could be either. They aren’t invited every time, but it’s often enough for a bit of a rapport.

Obi-Wan still doesn’t seem to know what to do about the overly serious now-eleven-year-old that claims him as cousin and drags him to dinner, but he’s trying. That much is to his credit. He’s clearly fascinated by the boy, and trying to connect the way he would with most Initiates; it’s not always successful. Ylliben Skywalker is such a preternaturally strange child that Obi-Wan just… flounders.

At least when he drags Master Jinn along, Obi-wan and Ben can team up to glare at him in disapproval, and try to beat him at dejarik.

They are much more alike than Obi-Wan realizes, in Depa’s humble opinion.

Once, Obi-Wan suggests that Depa and Ylliben team up for Jedi-style Pictionary. The rules say no master-padawan pairs, and no parent-child or sibling teams. Obi-Wan shoves Master Mace to Skywalker, Soka to Jinn, and grabs Master Koon for himself.

Soka and Master Jinn trounce the competition soundly, but Depa makes sure to give her partner a high-five when they snag an honorable second place.

--

As a knight, Depa takes longer solo missions than she did as a senior padawan. Most aren’t dangerous, because she is primarily a diplomat, and not the Jinn-and-Kenobi ‘this is five seconds and one wrong move from becoming a civil war, so we’re sending the relentlessly durable negotiators’ type that go in with the expectation of having to draw sabers… but there are exceptions.

“Knight Billaba, I have enough anxiety over my sister throwing herself at any and every Kyr’tsad commando she manages to run into against all odds while traversing the galaxy,” Ylliben informs her, grim as the grave, “and buir doing his own reckless nonsense when he assumes we aren’t looking. Please do not endeavor to put me in such a position that I must also worry for you.”

“It’s just a broken arm,” Depa reminds him. “Hardly life-threatening, and well within the kinds of injuries one expects from being a Jedi Knight.”

She gives him a moment to pout, and then adds, “also, you are eleven years old. I am twice your age, Ylliben. You do not need to worry about me.”

He huffs, and looks away, and kicks his legs in the healer wing seat. He shouldn’t even be here, technically, but Depa’s about to be released, and he’d come to scold her as she waited for the paperwork to process.

“Your braids fell out,” he says, apropos of nothing. “Are you going to use the Force to redo them?”

“The Force is not the best set of helping hands,” Depa jokes mildly, “not for complex braids, at least. I can manage a ponytail. I’ll most likely be asking friends or Mace to help, if I really need my braids.”

“I could help,” Ben offers. He immediately blushes. “I just mean, um, buir and I both wear our hair long, but it’s not long enough for the kinds of styles I used to do for Shmi back ho—uh, back on Mandalore. Your hair is longer than buir’s, and it’s not like Soka has hair.”

Jinn does, but Depa imagines she’s much more approachable—and fun—than Qui-Gon Jinn.

She can’t help but smile. “You want to play with my hair, and are trying to frame it as a favor to me.”

“I’ve had practice!” Ben protests. “Shmi’s hair is almost as long as yours!”

Depa has to laugh. “Alright, youngling. You can do up my hair while we wait for the healer to get back with my discharge papers. Do you think you can recreate my usual style?”

Ben nods seriously at this challenge, though his eyes are near sparkling. He digs through his bag, digs out a comb and some ties—always prepared, this boy—and bullies her into a position that allows him to reach her head without having to be on his tip-toes.

This is how Healer Sutna finds them, ten minutes later.

--

By the time she is twenty-three, Depa knows what people are expecting.

Ylliben is almost twelve, his birthday only a few months behind hers. He has been at the Temple for a year and a half, and regularly seeks her out for advice, spars, or just to chat. She hadn’t realized what it looked like, at first, but she’s been a knight for nearly two years now. Nobody would be surprised if she were looking to take a padawan, and there’s one particular Initiate she spends more time with than any other.

The problem is… she doesn’t know that there’s anything she can teach him that a more experienced master wouldn’t be a better choice for. Ylliben is an absurdly intelligent boy, and prone to visions besides. For all that he acts mostly like a child, there have been plenty of instances where he’s clearly been… almost more of an adult than Depa herself.

The Skywalker children speak of memories they should not have. They are vague on the topic, but it’s an open secret to those who they call friend. Depa’s had Obi-Wan complain to her of Masters Dooku and Jinn arguing over clashing conspiracy theories more than once. Some dismiss those memories as particularly vivid memories, or children being prone to telling stories for the sake of storytelling. Depa is certain that Ben’s memories of a long-gone adulthood, however it happened, are real.

She doesn’t know what to do, and so she visits someone who should know what she doesn’t. She goes to Skywalker.

Depa rings the doorbell. She waits. Skywalker takes several minutes to answer the door, and a stray grease mark at his chin indicates why. There is even still a towel in his hands.

“If you’re looking for the kids, Ben’s in class, and Plo took Soka out on a low-grade mission,” he tells her.

“Actually,” Depa says, her stomach twisting and climbing, “I’m here to talk to you, Master Skywalker, should you have the time.”

He eyes her, looking for something. “About?”

“Ben, if that’s alright with you.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “That could be half a dozen topics, you and him. C’mon in and take a seat. I’ll make tea.”

She enters. She sits. She waits, and is rewarded with tea.

They’re silent, both of them. They wait. The streak of engine grease from his jaw is gone.

Depa breaks first.

“How old is Ben, in the memories?” she asks.

Skywalker lifts a brow. “I’ll need a little more than that, Billaba.”

She dithers. She rolls her tea mug between her palms, and watches the liquid shimmer and tremble as the ceramic spins. “People expect me to take him as my padawan. I… I do want to. I want to. I think we’d be a good match. I’m just… unsure that there’s anything I could teach him that he doesn’t already remember. A more experienced master might make more sense than a relatively new knight.”

Skywalker just… looks at her. He’s always judging people, weighing them by some unknowable metric. It’s not like being judged by a stranger for her outfit, but like being judged by… by a panel of honored masters trying to decide if she is ready for something, a test for a prize nobody has been given leave to explain to her.

“If half-present memories were enough for him to be an adult and raise himself,” he finally says, “then he wouldn’t have needed a father, either.”

Something loosens in her, just below the solar plexus, and in her shoulders, and the very top of her spine.

Skywalker actually gets up and changes seats to join her on the couch. “I can’t promise it doesn’t get weird or awkward. He knows how to leverage adult memories to win arguments, when he deems it necessary. He’s too clever by half, but he’s… he’s still a child. My child.”

Depa nods silently. She sips her tea.

“He needs guidance, still,” Skywalker tells her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Support and friendship and someone to keep him facing in the right direction, facing forward, instead of trying to spread himself so thinly that he burns out trying to help everyone at once. He already had—will have had, I guess, trouble with that sort of thing as an adult, even, and now? He doesn’t have that control, that skill, that experience to keep himself in check. Unsupervised, he might build those bad habits in before he’s got a solid enough grasp on what he can wakingly remember to stop himself.”

He makes a face, leaning away from Depa. She doesn’t take it personally. “It will be strange and often difficult, but that could be said for any padawan. It’s in the nature of children to be strange and difficult, for those raising them.”

Depa goes to take another sip, but the mug is empty.

“You have time,” Skywalker reminds her, though she needs no reminding. He’s kind about it. He squeezes her shoulder. “Nobody would fault you for giving it another year.”

It’s technically true. Mostly. Nobody who matters would fault her. “When are… when are they going to ‘grow into’ their memories, Master Skywalker?”

“Years,” he says. “Sooner, for Sokanth. She’s almost there. Ylliben… I’d be surprised if his mind settles, and is able to hold everything at once before twenty, and I’d put it closer to twenty-five.”

More of the foreign memories than Soka, then.

“If I—if I take him on,” Depa says carefully, though it’s not enough to stop the stutter, “I imagine I’ll need to know some of those secrets you’ve kept from most of the Jedi. Like what you all were, that led to those memories.”

“Oh, you will,” Skywalker says. There isn’t even a gilding of hesitation to it. “Already planned for, Billaba.”

Lovely.

He pats her on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go talk to Mace about it?”

She should do that, yes.

(Continue on AO3)

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself)

Context:  Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Warnings for: canon-typical dismemberment, unfortunately-aimed puppy crushes

Word count: 5,839

-------------------------

The first time a Jedi meets a Skywalker, it’s on Bandomeer.

The planet is close to Mandalorian space. Finding someone associated with Mandalore is, technically, not that surprising. There are even Mandalorian operations on the planet.

What is surprising is the fact that the person from Mandalorian space is an unfamiliar Jedi Knight who is utterly unstoppable.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi has no way of knowing how similar his experiences are to what might have been, on this planet. Mandalore has been interfering in operations here ever since Ylliben Skywalker started reporting visions about the coming catastrophe. Where that interference has helped or hurt... well. There’s no way to know.)

(Is there?)

When Xanatos shows up and starts taunting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, there’s a giggle from the doorway.

All three have to turn to look at the individual in question.

Mid-twenties, leaning against the doorframe, slim but strong, covered in dark fabric and half a set of armor. A scar by one eye, well-kept hair, and a smirk that could burn the longest fuse. A lightsaber, unlit, in one gloved hand.

This man is... very attractive, Obi-Wan thinks. This is not an appropriate thought for the situation. Obi-Wan thinks he can maybe blame it on the exhaustion.

“No, no, keep going,” the stranger says, sounding like there’s a laugh stuck in his throat. He waves dismissively. “Let’s, ah, let’s hear the master plan. Good ranting voice, maybe a six out of ten on the ‘I’m better than you’ and a four on the actual intimidation. You can do better.”

“Excuse me?” Xanatos hisses, sounding incredibly malicious to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Just who do you think you are?”

“And now you’re overselling it,” the stranger sighs. “Are you new at this? You seem new at this.”

“I would... also like to know who you are,” Master Jinn admits, shifting uncertainly as he tries to keep both du Crion and the stranger in his sights.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jedi Knight, here to fight darksiders because... that’s my life, apparently,” the man says, looking down at his arm for some reason. He shakes his head and looks up at them with a bright grin. “Do you need some help, Master Jinn?”

“You still haven’t told us your name.”

“This is true,” the knight says. “That said, I’ve been told by my boss to explicitly avoid naming myself while on this mission for a variety of reasons.”

“Your... boss,” du Crion drawls. “Not the Council, then.”

“Current supervisor,” the stranger offers as correction, completely unconcerned. “It’s a complicated situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry about nonentities.”

The man purses his lips like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh again. It’s very mocking. “Sure, kid.”

Xanatos has had his lightsaber out ever since Obi-Wan and Master Jinn entered the room, but he does one of those fancy, meant-to-be-intimidating one-handed saber twirls as he turns to face the Knight.

The man’s smirk widens. “You do realize you’re going to lose, right? C’mon, kid--”

“I’m older than you!”

“I did like zero research on you as a person, just your many and varied crimes; how old are you?”

Du Crion’s face goes pinched. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Ah, yeah, no, I’m older,” the knight says. “Only a few years, but I’m also a delightfully obnoxious little bastard who ages real slow for, uh, reasons--”

Obi-Wan is fascinated. This man is very strange. And very pretty.

Obi-Wan may be light-headed. Is he bleeding? Blood loss would explain this.

Obi-Wan isn’t bleeding. Damn.

“--anyway, I’m sure I’ve got a more interesting life with more mature experiences than you,” the knight says. “So even if I wasn’t older in body, I’d be older in spirit.”

The knight’s entire sense of being carries such an air of banthashit that Obi-Wan can barely believe it. It’s almost impressive. Obi-Wan wonders how often this man just opens his mouth and immediately gets punched in the face.

“You talk a lot for a man in someone else’s domain.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” the knight says. “At least I’m not flirting with you. That’s what my master did with almost every darksider we met except his grandmaster.”

Du Crion pauses.

Obi-Wan has the distinct feeling that he and Master Jinn have lost any control they might have, at any point, had over this situation. They hadn’t had much control in the first place, but anything they did have is squarely in the stranger’s court right now. The silver lining to that is that du Crion is thoroughly distracted and has also lost some control of the situation.

“Besides,” the man continues, completely ignoring the very red lightsaber that is being very obviously readied for his death. “This is not that big of an advantage for you. I mean, hey, the fancy central console that can only be reached by skinny walkways with no railings are a nice touch, all chromed metal and minimal lighting, very dramatic, but there’s no lava. I’m not, like, chained to a rock in the middle of an arena for a public execution at the hands of starving animals the size of a fighter ship. You’re threatening to kill me personally instead of standing in the most expensive box of the theater, sipping your wine and congratulating yourself on step one of a plan that has another fifty-thousand steps and no end in sight. You--”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been in worse situations by better darksiders than you. This is sad. You’re sad. Try harder.”

Obi-Wan makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Nobody seems to notice, but Master Jinn does put a hand on his shoulder. That’s nice.

“I don’t have any interest in setting up a public execution.”

“What kind of a Sith wannabe are you?” the knight asks, tilting his head. Obi-Wan distantly notes that his hair is longer than initially assumed; it’s just held back and curled. “Public executions are a whole thing. It’s like you’re not even trying. Tell me you’ve at least got vague plans to hand me off to a pirates instead of killing me so you can make some comment about me not even being worth the effort.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” du Crion asks, his voice the kind of forced casual level nonsense that shows he’s actually very, very frustrated. Obi-Wan could almost believe that du Crion is as uninterested as he’s pretending to be.

“If I was trying to get myself killed, I’d... pick a fight with the Trade Federation, maybe? I mean, I survived that when I was nine but they’d probably take me more seriously this time.” The knight taps at his chin. “I don’t even know where the actual Sith is, but--”

“There are no more Sith,” du Crion scoffs.

Oh, the knight looks pitying now. Obi-Wan likes that much more than he should. It just really suits the man’s face.

Quin’s going to make so much fun of him later.

“I have fought multiple Sith,” the man says, slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to a child. “My master fought more than that. I lost my arm to a Sith when I was nineteen. You can say they’re gone, but I don’t trust like that.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” du Crion says, rolling his eyes. “It has been a thousand years since the Sith were wiped out. Much as I’d like them to still be around, I’m not going to--”

“Oh!” the knight exclaims. “You’re lying! You do think they’re back, this whole mess is you auditioning.”

Du Crion stares at the man as though he’s lost what few marbles he had. “Excuse me?”

“You want to be the next Sith Apprentice,” the man says, cheerfully unconcerned by the mounting tension in the air. “That’s adorable. Well, no, actually, it’s very bad, both for you and for everyone else, and now it means I can’t just kill you in battle like I was planning because the Jedi are going to need you for information. Blast.”

Du Crion’s eyes widen. It is not in fear, but in incredulity. Obi-Wan thinks that it’s all in the eyebrows and the tight, befuddled smile. “You were planning to kill me, Jedi?”

“I mean... yeah, kinda,” the knight says, shrugging. “Quick and clean option, that.”

This time, Master Jinn is the one that makes a disbelieving noise that both of the bitchy twenty-somethings ignore.

“You’re a Jedi,” du Crion points out, entirely pleasant.

“...yes,” the man says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Technically.”

Du Crion is very much distracted by this. “Technically?”

The man wiggles a hand. “Arguments can be made. I certainly was trained as a Jedi and consider myself to be one. My knighting was according to protocol, and at the Temple. Technically.”

“...but?” Master Jinn prompts.

The knight smiles like he’s got something very spicy in his mouth and is unwilling to admit it’s too much for him. “But nothing! Don’t worry about it. There’s a fight to be had with a Sith wannabe who doesn’t realize he’s not going to measure up.”

“Arrogant,” du Crion accuses.

“No,” the knight immediately says. “You just don’t fight a galactic war without learning which opponents are actually going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan leans into Master Jinn’s side, his legs feeling a little too much like jelly. He whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“As do I, Padawan,” Master Jinn mutters back, and something in Obi-Wan’s heart twists. He’s a padawan! Master Jinn’s actually going to go through with it!

The fight does actually happen, at that point. The knight lights his saber and leaps forward, flashing through Djem So movements without a moment’s hesitation. For all the trash talk and boasting, the fight isn’t actually over very quickly. Du Crion is good, even without having had a chance to spar against a real person since he left the Order. Power flows around him, dark and heavy and sharp in ways that the Force usually isn’t, and the red saber snaps through the air with a speed Obi-Wan can barely track. Xanatos du Crion is, without question, danger incarnate in this moment.

The unknown knight is better.

There are attempts at banter, mostly by the stranger. Du Crion is too focused on the fight to bother responding. Obi-Wan just clings to Master Jinn, trying to stay awake and aware. It’s difficult, given the past few days, and even with help from the Force, he’s flagging.

The way the knight moves is... captivating, though.

(Quinlan’s going to laugh at the top of his lungs, later. Obi-Wan’s going to blush and stutter and bury his face in a pillow, and Bant’s going to pat his back like the amazing friend she is, and Quin’s just going to laugh, like an asshole.)

The fight doesn’t end cleanly. The knight cuts du Crion’s saber in half and, in the same movement, cuts the man’s hand off.

Obi-Wan’s seen too much blood in the last few days for it to shock him, but the smell is... unpleasant.

“I don’t suppose either of you carries Force-nullifying cuffs?” the knight asks, holding his saber to du Crion’s neck with an expression that is amused and satisfied in equal measure.

“No,” Master Jinn says. He seems... very bothered. Well, du Crion was his student once. Obi-Wan can’t imagine he’d be very calm if he had a student that went dark and started killing children. “Was cutting off his hand really necessary?”

“I feel like half my fights end with either someone dying or someone losing a limb,” the knight muses. “Sometimes that limb is my own, even!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if the man is manic or just trying to throw them off their rhythm. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Okay, I have Force-nullifying cuffs of my own,” the man says. “But these things are expensive as hell, and they weren’t paid for by the Order, so just giving them to you isn’t really on the table. That said... my ship kind of got shot down on the way here. If you could give me a ride off-planet--”

“Our ship was also shot down.”

The knight blinks at him, and then kicks du Crion in the hamstring. It’s not a very hard kick, but du Crion shoots him a look of offense that’s probably justified. Getting kicked when one is already down is never a great feeling.

“Stop shooting people,” the knight scolds.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely like he’s having a fever dream.

“Okay, new plan,” the man says. “What kind of ship did you come in?”

“KYL-3400 small transport,” Master Jinn says, with not a little hesitation. “Why?”

The knight grins. “I’m going to cannibalize it for parts.”

-------------------------

Jango has known Anakin Skywalker for six years. Many of those years have been spent being yanked into babysitting for the man. For reasons Jango doesn’t feel like examining, this will likely continue.

“You’re late,” he says, as the man in question stumbles out of a battered ship that looks only barely like the one that left three months ago. “I thought you said Bandomeer was a quick fix.”

“Ship got shot down, had to help some Jedi, ran into fucking Onaka on the way back,” Skywalker grouses. “I feel like shit. Where are my kids?”

“Buir says you have to go to medical.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. My kids, Jango.”

“They can visit you in medical.”

“And, what, Mereel’s gonna go there for a debrief?”

“Your debrief is going through me,” Jango says, and doesn’t let himself flinch when Skywalker makes a face. “He’ll check in later.”

“Yeah, no,” Skywalker says, taking a step forward and then swaying with a curse. “Listen, this actually does need to go to Mand’alor direct, not just the Alor-in-training--”

“Please don’t do that with my language,” Jango immediately says. “That’s not--no. ‘Alor-in-training’ isn’t a thing. Don’t do that.”

Skywalker turns on his heel with a frustrated snarl, and Jango’s eyes widen as the stupid tunics the man wears flare out.

“Is that a blaster wound?”

“No.”

“Yes it--for fuck’s sake, Skywalker!” Jango growls and just goes over to grab the taller man by the shoulders and march him to medical. “I’m calling your sister.”

“Don’t tell Shmi, she’s got enough to--”

“I’m calling your sister,” Jango snaps. “And you’re going to deal with it. Ka’ra, do you even think? Is there a brain in that head of yours?”

“I’ve been told my braincell is lonely.”

“I’m going to shove you in a trash compactor, dikut’la jetii,” Jango mutters. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go deal with it on my own?”

Jango strangles his own scream and shoves Skywalker into the nearest examination room. “Fix him!”

The medic looks up, raises a brow, and turns to Skywalker. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” Skywalker shoots back, grinning like they’re sharing battle stories over a drink in a cantina.

The medic--Mirka’lu, he thinks--crosses her arms. “General.”

Oh man, the medics must be angry with him already if they’re already jumping titles like that.

“I’m just a knight--”

“General Skywalker.”

The man in question grimaces. “I maybe got shot during an altercation with some pirates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And... I maybe--maybe--picked a fight with some Hutt enforcers.”

Jango’s going to wring his neck.

Right after he calls Shmi.

-------------------------

Komari does her level best to not shift nervously under the judgmental eyes of the man they’re pretty sure is the Mand’alor. Her master’s got the situation under control. She’s just there to observe. They’ve got an entire team--

“Is that your way of telling me that your Order did minimal research on the situation before coming to intervene, and the only reason you bothered to reach out is because one of my men, weeks ago, let you know that Death Watch is setting traps for both my people and yours?”

Komari feels the flare of annoyance from Master Dooku. She doesn’t react, but she can hear the tension when her Master speaks.

“I assure we would not have attacked on Galidraan unless attacked first, or if we’d found solid evidence of the actions we were informed of,” Master Dooku says, quiet and even. “All your messenger did was save us all a little time.”

Mereel smiles thinly. “Saved us all some lives, more like it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, jetiise aren’t the only ones with Force-Sensitives,” the Mand’alor says. “I’ve more than a few under my command. Visions aren’t foolproof, I’m aware, but I’ll be damned if such a warning goes completely ignored.”

Master Dooku makes a low humming noise. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure of what it is that you’re expecting out of our... presence. We are not here to help you claim your presumed throne. We are only here to stop the killings we were told about.”

“I don’t need your help to reunite my people.” Mereel waves a hand, batting the mere suggestion away. “But I’d appreciate the help with taking out the terrorist group that’s actually going out and murdering the helpless, this planet’s farmers and doctors and children. Kyr’tsad isn’t just a thorn in my side, Master Jedi.”

“And what proof do I have that you aren’t just the same kind of monster as you claim they are?” Master Dooku challenges.

It’s a little brazen, considering how dicey these negotiations are. For all that Komari herself doesn’t wince, someone behind her outright hisses in dismay. She agrees with the sentiment.

Mereel just laughs at them. He catches the eye of one of the armored individuals along the wall, human or close to it, and nods to himself.

“Right,” the man says. “Well, we have our own Jedi. Would you like to meet him?”

Master Dooku is immobile, as if carved from stone. The rest of the group is... not.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Master Dooku says, and Komari feels the tension in him wind further through the training bond. There are a million questions to be had here. None of them can be answered without the supposed Jedi.

“Great,” the Mand’alor says. He leans back in his seat and turns to the door. With the press of a button, the door slides open. “Ben!”

A child darts into the room, stops, and bounces on their feet. Probably male, Komari thinks, and very anxious. The child’s eyes dart about the room, taking in every single Jedi in sight. When that gaze lands on Master Dooku, there’s a flash of recognition and... not hate, but distaste. Confused and distant dismay, maybe. The child turns back to Mereel.

“Mand’alor,” the child greets, still bouncing. “Am I needed?”

“Thought I told you this meeting was for grown-ups,” the Mand’alor says.

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to listen in.”

“That door is soundproofed and you know it.”

“So?”

The Mand’alor grins. “Do me a favor and go fetch your dad.”

“Buir’s still sleeping,” Ben says, grave as dirt. It’s a strange expression for such a small child. He can’t be older than eight, and Komari’s pretty sure even that’s a stretch. “Shmi’s gonna be mad if he has to wake up before the bacta’s done.”

“I just need him for negotiations,” Mereel assures the child.

“Aggressive negotiations with a lightsaber?” Ben asks, and Komari nearly chokes.

“No, just regular ones.”

Ben nods sharply, and then turns and runs out.

“That boy...” Mereel mutters, but it’s fond. “Anywa--”

“BUIR!” Ben’s voice echoes from the hall, faint but audible, along with some very loud banging on what is presumably a door. “DAD! WAKE UP, THE COUNT IS HERE!”

The Count? Komari wonders. Even Master Dooku seems surprised.

The question is clearly on more minds than just her own. Mereel raises a brow at Master Dooku and gestures vaguely. “Didn’t know any of you were nobility. You a Count, Master Jedi?”

“No,” Master Dooku says, and before the Mand’alor can press further, he adds, “but if I were to retire from the Order, the title would be mine to inherit. As I have no intentions of retiring, I am not and will not be a Count, but I assume that is what the child is referring to.”

“Ben,” the Mand’alor corrects. He seems pleased with the reasonable answer. “Ylliben Skywalker. I suggest you refer to him by name.”

“You have a fondness for him,” Master Dooku notes.

Mereel shrugs. “No more than any other child, objectively, but his father is one of my more effective allies, and he gets antsy about things. Saying ‘your child’ won’t be a problem, but ‘the child’ is... well.”

The smirk is a challenge that Komari doesn’t feel ready to meet. She’s glad it’s not hers to handle.

“Why do you ‘have’ a Jedi?” Master Dooku asks, pushing the conversation back to the point Komari’s sure he was initially aiming for.

“Found him in a snowstorm, brought him inside,” Mereel says, grinning. “And then he refused to leave, the shabuir. Troublesome man, like you wouldn’t believe, but useful.”

“Like a feral tooka,” someone behind Komari mutters. She feels a part of her soul die.

You can’t just say that in front of the Mand’alor! she screeches in the depths of her mind, despairing.

“Exactly,” Mereel agrees with a laugh. “Skywalker’s a feral tooka.”

Komari dies a little more.

“Talkin’ shit about me, Mereel?”

...oh no.

This one’s pretty.

The man is tall, dressed almost entirely in black, and looks like shit.

“You look like you got run over by a herd of bantha,” the Mand’alor notes.

“I got back less than a day ago,” Skywalker growls out. He leans against the wall behind the Mand’alor’s desk. He folds his arms. He glowers around the room. “The kriff is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Master Dooku,” the man in question says, a little pained. “As I informed Mand’alor Mereel, I may technically have claim to that title, but I am a Jedi. So long as I remain a Jedi, the title isn’t actually mine.”

Skywalker makes a face, and then shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. Jaster, what the hell do you need from me?”

“Well, some manners would be nice.”

“I got shot and am putting myself in a position to get yelled at by baar’ur Mirka’lu for coming here when I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” Skywalker growls out. He kicks Mereel’s chair, glaring at the back of the man’s head. “You’re lucky I put on pants.”

Mereel seems unbothered by this statement or treatment.

Komari thinks her eyes may currently be the size of dinner plates.

“You’re the one from Bandomeer.”

Skywalker’s head snaps up to focus his gaze on Master Dooku. “Say what?”

“You’re the one my former Padawan encountered on Bandomeer,” Master Dooku says, something satisfied in his tone. “He said you refused to give a name, but the physical description does match.”

“Oh, lovely, Jinn’s been gossiping,” Skywalker mutters. “That’s just--”

“General Skywalker,” Mereel says, voice finally slipping to something more stern than amused. “If you could please focus.”

Skywalker rolls his eyes and mutters something about painkillers.

“Buir?”

Skywalker’s head tilts to the side, and he holds one arm out to the side. The kid from before--Ben--darts in to cling to the man’s side. A slightly taller Togruta follows in and ducks in under his other arm. Both children keep a wary gaze fixed on the same person, and their adult...

Every look from this man is a new challenge to Master Dooku.

“They’re yours?”

That is the exact question Komari was hoping her master wouldn’t ask.

“We’re in Mandalorian territory,” Skywalker says. “They’re Force-Sensitive orphans with an incredible amount of potential. If I didn’t claim them, someone else would have.”

It’s not an airtight justification--the man could have just sent them to the Temple--but the air around him is roiling with aggression. This man does not like Master Dooku, and is more than a shade protective of these--his--children. Komari shifts her weight and worries as the pregnant silence grows heavier.

“As you say,” Master Dooku allows, and some of the bowstring-tight tension in the room loosens, drains away like foul bathwater. “If I may... I was unaware you were a General, nor that Mandalore had a standing army large enough for such a position.”

“He’s not,” Mereel says. “Used to be, won’t tell me where. It’s not my business, or yours. Title’s a holdover from whatever war he was fighting before we got him.”

Komari is not the only person whose heart drops as Master Dooku says, “Qui-Gon claimed that the rogue knight he’d met on Bandomeer mentioned a galactic war against the Sith.”

Mereel blinks, and then turns his seat around to look at Skywalker. The other Mandalorians look at Skywalker. Every single Jedi also looks at Skywalker.

The Togruta child sticks her tongue out at Master Dooku.

“I did say that,” Skywalker says. “What of it?”

“You know, when I said I didn’t care what fight you were running that turned you into a soldier, I kind of assumed it was something on the level of, say, a system-wide civil war,” Mereel drawls. “Not galactic Force nonsense.”

Skywalker shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Because you’ll lie?”

“No, I’m just going to be really annoying about it,” Skywalker tells him. The Togruta giggles and shoves her face into his side. “Or, hell, I’ll let Ben do it. We both know he can talk circles around basically everyone in this room.”

“Skywalker.”

“Mereel.”

The two hold gazes for a moment that lasts just a little too long, and then Mereel breaks it off. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course, Mand’alor,” Skywalker says, with a grim sort of smile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Mereel doesn’t seem particularly impressed by that.

Komari wonders if anyone else remembers that Skywalker was supposed to be here to make negotiations easier.

-------------------------

Yan Dooku is having a Day.

He’s not entirely sure whom to blame for this mess. Perhaps Yoda, for suggesting he handle this mission. Perhaps the governor of Galidraan, who decided collaborating with terrorists for his own gain was a good idea. Perhaps Jaster Mereel, whose influence and power is enough that Yan needs to tread carefully. Perhaps Qui-Gon, for giving him just enough information about Skywalker to cause some drama.

Perhaps Skywalker for being a recalcitrant, ornery bastard who delights in Yan’s suffering.

(One of the Mandalorians calls him that to his face, and Skywalker informs the man that “my mother always told me I didn’t have a father,” and stares until the Mando stammers out an apology and turns on his heel.)

(The smirk on Skywalker’s face is certainly informative.)

“Hi.”

Yan looks up from the datapad he’s been using to try and punch out a report, for all that he can’t find the words he needs, and sees the Togruta youngling from Skywalker’s side hanging upside-down from a ventilation grate.

He blinks evenly at her. “Good afternoon. Is that your normal manner of traversing the building?”

“Yeah, when Jan-Jan isn’t yelling at me about it,” she says, and drops from the ceiling. Seemingly without paying attention, she directs the grate itself back into place with the Force, screws reattaching themselves with only the slightest whisper. She’s done this many, many times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

“Jango Fett,” she clarifies. “Ad be Mand’alor.”

Child of the king.

He does remember that much from the briefing.

“I see,” Yan says, rather than try to tackle whatever the usage of such a nickname implies. “I’m afraid nobody’s seen fit to introduce you, youngling.”

“I’m Sokanth Skywalker, but most people call me Soka,” she says, with a bouncing, shallow bow. Full of energy, this one. “I’m eight.”

“The General is your father, then?”

“Mm-hm! He adopted me when I was almost two,” she says, and climbs up onto the bench. She wraps her arms around her knees and beams up. “Ben was still a baby, and we didn’t go get Shmi until a few months later when Skyguy could afford it.”

“Skyguy?” Yan prompts.

“My dad,” she explains, head tilting a little as she studies his reaction. “I... I’ve always called him Skyguy. He took care of me before he adopted me, for at least a year. He says I called him Skyguy when I first started talking, back then, and then he didn’t make me stop when he adopted me.”

“I see,” Yan says. “Does your father know you’re speaking with me?”

“Probably.”

“And would he approve?” Yan hints as heavily as he can. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s because we’ve all seen what you could be,” she says. “But you’re not the Count yet, so it’s okay.”

Information. “Ah. Visions, then. That would explain some things.”

“Ben gets them the most,” she keeps talking. “But it’s not just that. It’s like... patterns. The Sith are going to target you, because they’re going to think you’re worth corrupting.”

“And you’ve seen enough Sith to know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Visions are not foolproof,” he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. He’s not used to interacting with children of this age, and this one comes with a father in the Mand’alor’s confidence, someone he can’t afford to irritate by making a daughter cry. “I have a friend who is very prone to visions, and some come true, some don’t, and others--”

“Are self-fulfilling,” Sokanth finishes for him. “I know that. But my dad’s actually fought Sith, y’know. The guy who cut off my dad’s arm used to be a Jedi Master, like you, and he was all fancy-schmancy and a history nerd for Sith stuff, and didn’t like the Council or their decisions very much. Like you.”

That’s... very personal.

“A surface-level similarity is not enough to make the claim that I am to become a Sith,” he says.

She blinks at him, eyes too large for a face that’s so near to human in bone-structure. It’s unnerving. “Whether or not you Fall is your choice, Count. All I can tell you is that you are the kind of person they look to groom... if only as a pawn.”

The words are too old for a girl her size.

“You speak as if you’ve faced the Sith yourself,” Yan says, well aware now that he needs to tread carefully, but... “You’re too young to go out into the field. I can’t imagine your father would allow a child like yourself to go up against someone that dangerous.”

She blinks those too large eyes, and tilts her head in the other direction, and then smiles. “You care. That’s good. Keep that compassion, Count.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re evading the question.”

Sokanth giggles. “Maybe. Buir doesn’t like us talking about it much. It makes him sad, ‘cuz he can’t help us not hurt, and a lot of it is really scary. It’s like... my memories are too big for my head. I don’t get a lot of visions, but I get a lot of dreams of things that happened that I’m not alive for. And buir does remember those things happening, so it’s true, and it happened, but I only... sort of remember it, and when I think about it too hard, it hurts my head. Or I get nightmares about it, and I don’t like those. Ben’s got it worse, though. He has more to fight.”

It’s a lot of information.

It’s confusing information.

It’s... possibly information that the General has asked her to feed him for reasons he can’t even begin to guess at.

“In this war your father fought,” Yan asks, “were you a soldier as well?”

“Commander,” she corrects, voice soft. “That’s what the dreams call me, before they start screaming.”

“How old are you really?” He asks, before he can quite stop himself.

She laughs, suddenly bright again. “I’m as old as I look. I’m eight. Just because the Force gives me memories I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t a kid. Sometimes Ben tries to act older than he is ‘cuz of the memories, y’know. Buir gets sad whenever he does that, ‘cuz he thinks we deserve to be kids before the galaxy goes to hell again.”

“He’s sure of such a thing?”

“It always does,” she says, with the air of someone who isn’t sure how their conversation partner could be quite that dense. Her voice takes on a sing-song cadence, like she’s telling a fable instead of a philosophy. “War always comes eventually. Not every sentient is selfish, but enough are, and they tend to be the ones that claw their way to the top. The rich and powerful will take and take and take, and then, when there’s nothing left, they will use their living stepping stones to tear each other apart. All we can do is be ready to end it as quickly as possible once it comes.”

Yan lets the claim sit for a long, quiet minute. “Did your father tell you that?”

“No,” she says. “Ben did.”

The six-year-old.

“He has a way with words,” Yan manages.

“Sometimes he uses his stuffed animals to host courtroom dramas,” she says. “He makes me look up the right laws so it can be procedurally accurate, ‘cuz he’s a nerd but so am I, and it makes Skyguy happy when he sees us playing like that instead of just doing saber forms and stuff.”

Yan has... no idea what to do with that. “I wouldn’t normally call courtroom dramas a normal children’s activity.”

“Yeah, but Ben’s a nerd,” she says, as if that’s all that needs to be said. Maybe, for her, it is. “And there’s only so much time I’m allowed to spend hunting.”

Right. Togruta.

“And what was your father doing at that age?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that,” she says immediately. “Because it’s very private and he and Shmi get upset if we bring it up, ‘cuz of trauma and stuff.”

Shmi. The... sister, he thinks. People seem to be unclear on that. He’s heard a few refer to the teenager as just “one of Skywalker’s,” so that’s something to consider. She’s near-perfectly halfway between the children and the General, in terms of age, so it’s a little ambiguous where she fits.

That said, he’s been in a lot of places in his time as a Jedi Master. It’s taken him a little longer than it should have to realize, but he thinks he’s got at least part of the puzzle.

Skywalker’s a slave name. Tatooine, specifically.

It’s not confirmation, really, but...

Well. He thinks it’s better he doesn’t dig, on that subject.

“Hey,” Sokanth says, tugging at his sleeve. “Can I ask ya something?”

“I cannot promise an answer, but you may ask.”

“Can you spar with Skyguy? I wanna see who wins.”

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Where There’s a Whill, There’s a Windu

Context: original post, chrono

(Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka) and have been officially adopted by Anakin.)

----------------------

“You’re attached.”

“You’re just now noticing?”

Master Windu eyes him for a few long moments, and then joins him on the ground. Anakin can’t help but smirk. There’s something gratifying about having respect from the man, in this life.

“The other members of the council are concerned.”

“And you aren’t?”

“I am, but for other reasons,” Windu says.

Anakin doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t even respond for a long minute. He just looks out over the Room of a Thousand Fountains, spread out below them like hundreds of jungles pieced together in a jigsaw of flora. It’s been his favorite room in the Temple since he was a child, and it’s always overwhelming.

“Most of them have accepted that you adopted them because of Mandalorian customs, and that you stayed where you were due to the will of the Force,” Windu continues. “But they are… uncomfortable with how blatantly your attachments show.”

“Mandalorians are loud and refuse shame. It rubbed off.”

“You said you would kill for these children.”

“I’m their father. That’s kind of expected.”

Windu’s expression is tired. A little tired of stress, but mostly tired of Anakin’s shit. “You know what I’m trying to get at.”

“Do I?”

“Skywalker.”

“No, I’m serious. I need you to spell this out. I’ve had a million slightly-contradicting lectures on this topic, and I’ve been told pretty clearly that I misinterpreted a solid half of them. If you want a constructive conversation, you can’t be vague. I’m thirty-three years old and a father of two, Master Windu, so yes, I’m attached. What you mean by that word is going to change where this conversation goes.”

It’s gratifying to see the Master actually think it over.

“Ylliben’s tattoos have been causing the most recent stir,” Windu finally says. “They nearly all relate to family, whether new or old, and the symbolism is concerning to those who are already upset about the Mandalorian upbringing. They worry that he’ll remain too tied to people he grew up with, and unable to maintain neutrality in future diplomatic ventures, or at risk of a fall if one of the people he’s seen fit to memorialize is injured or killed. The assume a similar state of mind may be applicable to your daughter and yourself, especially given the off-color jokes about how possessive your children are about each other.”

“They’re worried about emotional immaturity,” Anakin summarizes. He offers a wan, unimpressed grin. “They do realize he’s fourteen, right? Nobody’s emotionally stable at fourteen. The hormones are out of whack.”

“I’m aware,” Windu grinds out. “And I’m aware that your histories, of war and all such things, make your ties much stronger, but you can see why the Council worries, especially those who are wary of the memories your children carry but won’t explain. I’m the only one you’ve told, Skywalker.”

“Plo and Depa know.”

“Plo and Depa aren’t on the council.”

“Yet.”

“Skywalker.”

He relents. “It’s not about Mandalore, Master Windu. It’s about Tatooine.”

Windu lets that sit for a few moments, and then sighs. “I don’t know enough about Tatooine to parse that.”

“Shmi and I are former slaves,” Anakin says, as bluntly as he can. “I was freed at nine, she at eleven, and for all that we are free, we’re not freeborn. We were born slaves, and raised slaves, and we were freed too late to forget that life. The way we think is always going to be affected by the way we grew up. That applies to all sentients, more or less, but it’s… the slave mentality is completely at odds with Jedi teachings, because Jedi teachings can only be taught in a safe environment.”

Windu nods slowly, and says, “That does make sense, but it’s… forgive me, but that’s why we don’t normally take children older than four.”

“From the perspective of teaching cultural values, that makes sense,” Anakin allows. “Teaching a Jedi child that’s cared for with communal resources that they do not need material things to be happy is fine; trying to convince a slave child of the same, someone who grew up being told they do not deserve material things, and that their owner can take anything at any time, including family? I lived that life, trying to adjust to ascetic Jedi values that coincided poorly with slave rules. I know exactly how poorly that transition can go when the person caring for the child doesn’t know how to handle the points of conflict.”

“Do you regret joining the Jedi?” Windu asks.

Anakin shakes his head. “My Jedi master, bless him, cared, and tried very hard, but he wasn’t ready to handle a kid like me and in hindsight, I know that. He needed grief counseling, and I needed therapy, and neither of us was getting it. I don’t… I don’t believe anyone in the Temple would have known how to handle a kid like me.”

“But you don’t regret it.”

“I was meant to be a Jedi,” Anakin says, as firmly as he can without getting unnecessarily bitchy about it. “My struggles with the Code aside, I was meant to be here. But the Temple doesn’t have any resources for children who come older, and I think… I think you do need that.”

“You just outlined why a child can’t follow the Code if they come from a different enough background,” Windu says.

Anakin shakes his head. “No, that’s not—I think a kid like me can learn to be a Jedi, if a little unconventional, if they’re taught correctly. The desperation to cling to anyone and anything you have can be unlearned. It takes time and effort, but it’s possible. Soka and Ben are good at balancing Tatooine care with Jedi control. If you talk to Ben, you get an entire philosophical breakdown about it, but I’m more concerned with the child psychology, because that’s what could have broken me.”

Windu frowns. “You’re building up to something.”

“I think the Jedi need programs for children found older who can’t become full Jedi,” Anakin asserts. “Even those who cannot reconcile what they absorbed growing up with the Code and Jedi tradition… they, we, need guidance. The Council tried to reject me for being too old, and now that I’m grown I understand why, but… Master Windu, what do you think would have happened to me if I hadn’t had my Master to fight for me, and had been turned away?”

“We’d have looked into placing you back with your mother and, upon finding out that she was still enslaved, secured her freedom,” Master Windu says. “Qui-Gon Jinn had taken responsibility for you, and thus you were a ward of the Temple until such a time as you were safe again. It would have been cruel to keep you from your mother if we were not to raise you a Jedi, and crueler still to allow you to return to slavery.”

“And you think I’d have been safe with her?” Anakin asks. He needs Master Windu to understand this. “You think that would have ended well?”

“You don’t?”

“Ventress,” Anakin says. “Maul. Aurra Sing, even.”

Windu considers that. He looks across the grand, green room of the garden, and finally speaks. “You think you’d have been found and corrupted by a Sith.”

“I’d already helped Naboo win a battle. I was a powerful child with no support system in this respect, eager to please,” Anakin says. “Ventress and Maul both got twisted into Sith Apprentices. Aurra Sing was just a bounty hunter, but… even if the Jedi had never found me, and the Sith remained unaware, do you think I’d have ended up better than Sing? Or would the pressures of slavery have led to my Fall anyway, eventually slaughtering my owner, the Hutts, the entire system of Tatooine’s hells?”

Windu rubs a hand over his forehead. “I understand what you’re getting at.”

“It’s not just me,” Anakin says, as carefully as he can. “Even without the Sith, there are plenty of Force-Sensitive children in terrible situations that are liable to Fall just because of how power is wielded by those at the bottom. Refusing to take on students who are already at risk… the Jedi are meant to monitor Force users to prevent Sith and other dark-aligned people from harming the galaxy. It’s one of our primary duties. If the Jedi are allowing darksiders to rise just because of an age limit…”

“I get it,” Windu says, just a little aggressive. “I understand. Give me a minute.”

Anakin tries to wait. He’s older now, he can do that. He can be patient.

He tries to convince himself that it’s true.

“You have a point,” Master Windu finally allows. “And with the knowledge that the Sith are out there, still, it’s a more salient point than most would think. The EduCorps already has a subdivision for teaching meditative techniques to low-level force users who need to learn shielding but aren’t sensitive enough to be Jedi, or are just too old, but I see your point about encouraging a program for powerful Force-Sensitives that aren’t discovered early enough to integrate into the community in full.”

“And a more comprehensive Search pattern for the Outer Rim?” Anakin suggests. He shrugs at the look he gets. “What? You’ve seen my midicount. I was on Tatooine for almost a decade, and the only reason anyone found me was that Qui-Gon had to crash a ship in the middle of nowhere. I’m sure the Force led him to me, given all the coincidences, but that’s still a solid nine years that nobody did, despite how I apparently ‘shine like the sun’ or whatever.”

“Humble.”

“The last time I took a midichlorian test on a portable counter, it literally broke the device. That’s not arrogance, that’s just absurd.”

Windu looks exhausted by the comment. Anakin can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it.

“What about Jedha?” Anakin suggests instead. “Jedi find the kids, but if they’re too old to be Jedi, we could coordinate with one of the temples at Jedha to see about having them raised in the traditions of the Whills? They’re a little less orthodox, aren’t they?”

“In some respects,” Master Windu says. “More constrained in others, but… it’s a possibility. Most of the overlooked children, yourself included, are from parts of the Outer Rim that aren’t part of the Republic, Skywalker.”

Anakin shrugs. “And many of them would have been happy to be found and collected by a Jedi, even if they couldn’t become Jedi. Not the Dathomiri, since they’ve got their own thing going on, but… from what I know about Ventress, she actually did have a Jedi Master before the situation on Rattatak became… what’s the word… untenable? He died and she was left alone, and she’d been a slave already and it just… did not end well for her. But that was a planet overrun by pirates and warlords, and would have been approved as a planet the Jedi could help without it being a weird colonialism thing… if the Senate weren’t made up of cheapskates, at least.”

“Skywalker.”

“My name isn’t actually a reprimand, you know.”

“You’re not supposed to just say that,” Windu groans, running a hand over his face. “The Senate’s choice in funding is not optimal, but insulting them in that way, even in private—”

“They’re assholes,” Anakin says, and doesn’t let his humor show. “Except my late wife, but she’s not part of the Senate in this time, so I feel no shame in accusing the entire shitshow of being cheapskates.”

Windu looks about ready to push him off the ledge.

“You’re never allowed to go on diplomatic missions, are you?” Windu mutters.

“Unless it’s to Mandalore,” Anakin clarifies. “Also, never send me to Tatooine. Ever. Please. I kriffing hate that planet.”

“I’m going to assume you have plans to kill a Hutt if we ever send you to—”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Windu sighs. “I’ll discuss this with the Council, see how they feel about reaching out to Jedha for your suggestion regarding the Whills.”

“And you’ll tell them not to worry about my kids?”

“Skywalker, they are never going to stop worrying about your family,” Windu tells him.

“That’s fair.”

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Winds of Change

Yes, that's a pun. Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

The family is on an interstellar errand about eight years after arriving in the past, maybe an Illum trip, IDK, but the kids accidentally get pulled into a Jedi Nonsense.

We open our scene on a locked cell. We have Master Windu and Knight Billaba. His femur's broken, and she's worrying about torture interrogation by the Ambiguous Villains (we can use Death Watch, they're convenient).

Sokanth is also captured, possibly gets a little electrocuted but mostly seems unaffected (she had worse in the war), and is just reciting a litany of names and numbers that nobody recognizes (it's her remembrances, just an endless list of all the brothers she lost by preventing the GAR).

(Please note: Sokanth is ten and this is child torture. The fact that she knows at least a little of how to redirect electricity to hurt less doesn't change this.)

(It's fucked up, it's not okay, and the fact that she can withstand it isn't impressive so much as just... no child should go through that. Nobody should go through that, but especially not a kid.)

(Death Watch, unfortunately, doesn't care.)

Sokanth taunts the captors, as one does, and then starts laughing when she realizes they don't know WHO they captured, because she didn't have her sabers with her. There's a big "My dad's gonna kick your shebs" claim, and then there's... well. It feels like a bomb going off deeper in the complex.

It's not a bomb.

They break free while the captors are distracted, but Depa's the only one with a saber that can actually stand, and she's having a hard time just keeping them from getting shot in the supply room they've managed to hide away in.

Anakin does some terrifyingly powerful nonsense, has a "Get the hell away from my daughter" moment against one of the bad guys. There's massive chunks of rubble floating around him, a cyclone of broken iron pylons and duracrete and all that. His stupid black synthleather duster is fluttering in the breeze he's kicking up with his mind. He crushes a fighterjet with his brain. There's a lot going on and none of it is comforting.

It's not bad, because Death Watch actually managed to amass a small army, and Anakin's not breaking the code in choosing to intimidate them into surrendering while he tries to kill someone who'd torture a child, but still.

"You're a Skywalker," Mace realizes out loud. Depa doesn't know what that means, but Sokanth just beams because yeah, she is, and also her dad's here and that's Good.

People are like... genuinely concerned that Anakin's going to slip to the Dark Side because he's so unhinged in the moment of Paternal Rage, and then their ride shows up (it's Ben with the ship, with promises that the True Mandos are sending backup to handle what's going on) and they all get the hell out of there.

Anakin lectures Sokanth for ending up planetside and captured and how she's never, ever allowed to worry him like that again. She was supposed to stay on the ship. She is ten years old. He's telling Shmi and Jango.

He has a short sidebar with Ben, asks Depa to take the controls of the ship while they're in hyperspace, and enters a shared meditation with the kids and Mace.

And that's how Mace is the first person in the past to be introduced to General Kenobi and Commander Tano, and not just Ylliben and Sokanth Skywalker.

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Ylliben Skywalker

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

(Basic summary: Disaster lineage time-traveled, ended up significantly pre-canon, with Jaster Mereel. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan got de-aged, Anakin didn’t. Obi-Wan’s going by Ben, with a Tatooine full name chosen by Anakin.)

So I already mentioned that Ylliben would choose to grow out his hair and wear it in a low side-pony like a dead anime mom, but:

I also think Ylliben collects tattoos once he gets a little older? I feel like if Soka and Anakin ask, he says he was inspired by the clones.

These are the things I’m sure about:

Jedi logo - in memory of the Qui-Gon who died for him, but doesn’t know him in this life - shoulder - red (green is an option but I figured Ben would get a kick out of tying the Jedi symbol to the Mando armor color that honors a parent) - When he gets taken on by a Master (either Depa or Mace), he goes back to the parlor and gets a vapaad-purple circle put in around it as background.

Open circle fleet symbol - for Anakin - other shoulder - canon colors (red and yellow) plus black outline

A set of overlapping circles to be the binary suns of Tatooine - for Shmi - inside forearm - orange and pink (to look like a sunset)

Soka’s markings - probably stylized like the Fulcrum symbol - back of forearm - 501st blue

The phrase "Vode An" - in memory of the clones - over the heart - Mando’a alphabet, black

Cody’s scar, slightly stylized - on his face, in the exact spot - 212th yellow

A Mandalorian Lily - in memory of Satine (from his future-past, not the current one) - inside wrist - lavender (fanon color for House Kryze)

A Mythosaur - in celebration of the JangoShmi marriage, so technically for adding Jango to the family - inside of the other forearm - grey (specifically the shade of beskar)

While this timing isn’t actually reasonable, so I wouldn’t be doing it, I think it would be very funny if he got most of these before they left Mandalorian territory so the Temple is just introduced to this small, unassuming nerd with dead anime mom hair, and then the first time he takes off his shirt to swim or use a communal shower or something, they realize this random 11yo has like six tattoos and is planning on more. This has to be before he gets the Cody-specific one since that’s on his face, but otherwise...

[phoenixyfriend]

A Smattering of Thoughts on the AatJB Skywalker Sibs

Context: original post, chrono

(Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka) and have been officially adopted by Anakin.)

Regarding Ylliben:

Between the long hair and tattoos and partial armor and I'm also saying he might wear a leather jacket eventually, I think people might just assume this boy is trying to broadcast that he's biker-gay queer as loudly as possible.

Which is hilarious because half of it (the leather and growing out his hair) is just... him copying his dad... and the dad is the ACTUAL biker (who is very, very demi).

Regarding Sokanth:

The Koon-Skywalker team going on a joint mission with the Jinn-Kenobi team: please imagine how many times Obi-Wan panics about the fact that his master and this Mando Togruta girl (who's his cousin's adoptive sister) are going to do something completely unhinged.

Sokanth nearly starts a war because she tried to sideline the mission to pick a fight with a Death Watch member she spotted on the street. Plo had to hold her back. Qui-Gon didn't see a problem with the possible fight.

SHE'S LIKE THIRTEEN and trying to start a fight with Death Watch in the street and they have to Stop Her.

Regarding both:

"Turn around, I wanna play with your hair" is a standard non sequitur for the Skywalker Sibs. Soka doesn't have hair so she WILL be playing with Ben's.

[phoenixyfriend]

Ooh, I've been scrolling thru ur blog and I really love all of your Star Wars AUs!!! As for Anakin and the Jedi Babies, Maybe Ylliben's Stewjon tattoo could be a celtic dragon to go along with the krayt?

Mayhaps!

Context:

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: (chrono)

* Anakin and the Jedi Babies

AatJB Addendum - whatever the fuck this was

* Jango Meets Soka (1.5k words)

* Names and Faces (6.5k words)

* Anakin, Shmi, and the Jedi Babies (3k words)

* Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Knightmares (1.6k words) - Ben just really loves banthas

* Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself) (5.8k words)

Winds of Change

The Conspiracy (of Anakin and his Jedi Babies)

JangoShmi and Jedi-Mando relations - Shmi finds out

Cultural comparison of Jedi/Mando/Tatooine

How doth yonder baby brain work

Ylliben Skywalker (hair and tattoos) - various related thoughts - * A Child’s Ink

Pronunciation of names

The Kidnapping of Pre Vizsla

* Where There’s a Whill, There’s a Windu (2k words)

[phoenixyfriend]

...what is this scribble

A Child’s Ink is still happening btw

[phoenixyfriend]

Something something vendors

The first looks like "felleda," which is a nonsense word, and not STAR WARS nonsense either.

A Child’s Ink is still happening btw

[phoenixyfriend]

!!!!!!! "felleda," is FILLED WITH (w/)

Still working on the middle word tho

A Child’s Ink is still happening btw