#I’m still mad they fucked with the Book of Boba Fett

[flaccid-rats]

I. Ugh. Okay. I need to get some thoughts out about the new episode.

I get that Din didn’t want the Darksaber. I understand that it was the last thing he wanted, and honestly? Yeah, I would absolutely expect him to give it away in the long run because while Din Djarin might be an excellent leader and he’s absolutely someone who inspires loyalty, it’s not a position he wants to be in. And I love Mand’alor Din with all my heart but in canon? It probably wouldn’t have happened. Yes, I love him as this tragic figure of someone who’s destined to be a great king even thought they don’t want to be king, but that’s not what the show is about and that’s what fanfic is for.

What I’m mad about, is that at the end of season two they set up this wonderful storyline about a simple man just trying to make his way though the galaxy who has just been given an entire world, who’s been given this legacy, this ancient and noble title that people had killed and died for, whose been given everything that his people have fought years for, have fought for generations to get back after it was stolen from them, and yet he’s lost everything.

He’s been given everything and now he has nothing.

This season should have been about that. It should have been about Din Djarin coping with the loss of his son, it should have been about it taking more than an episode and a half for him to redeem himself, it should have been about Din Djarin learning the history of this relic he now has and the history of his people that he was never taught. It should have been about him learning the complicated history between his people and the Jedi, between his people and his son.

I don’t, and I cannot stress this enough, care that Bo-Katan has the Darksaber.

What I care about is that they fucked with Boba Fett’s show and story and plot to continue that storyline they set up at the end of season two, to have Din Djarin hurt and lost and say that the Darksaber was his because it’s all he has left, to have him fight Paz for the Darksaber even though he did not want it, to have Din fight to get it back because he was not willing to give it up, because he lost his son and the Darksaber is he all he has now, and then they just. Gave him Grogu back with zero repercussions and threw ALL THAT away for season three so they can make Bo-Katan the main character and start a fuck ton of side plots about the New Order so they can make the sequels make sense.

That’s what I’m mad about.

Having said that.

I loved Lizzo and Jack Black this episode they were great.

[phoenixyfriend]

When Obi-Wan gets to AotC, there's also about two dozen Anakin clones on-site. They're all girls because... IDK Anakin is trans. They have a hive mind and are developmentally a few years younger than Anakin himself.

It's incredibly unsettling to Obi-Wan.

It's almost definitely a "fuck with Anakin's already fragile mental health" ploy by Palpatine, along with a "what if Jedi Black Widows, for me, a Sith Lord. Wouldn't that be neat? That would be neat."

Anakin is torn between "this freaks me out" and "GANG OF BABY SISTERS LET'S GOOOOOOO."

(I just finished reading Like Real People Do by glimmerglanger, so this is definitely inspired by that and the obligatory 'lay back in bed and daydream variations on plot points of that fic you just really enjoyed,' and also a little by Same Heart, Same Blood by loosingletters.)

They're physically like 14-16 on average, and Anakin's vibrating out of his skin with a million conflicting emotions, but when he tells Padme she's just like "oh, you have a handmaiden gang!"

I told this to @willowcrowned and she suggested:

Once Anakin decides to repress the part of him that’s weirded out and just regard them as baby sisters he gets. A little strange about it The first time one of them dies he may or may not slaughter every person he can [in response to Padme's comment] Anakin starts worrying that he needs to get them cool matching outfits

I also chatted about it with @firebirdeternal and they said:

Gang of Unsettling Smol Siblings is exactly the Karma that Anakin deserves

Do you think the Clones have a kind of Collective Name that they use at first that eventually just kind of morphs into a new last name? Skysisters or something? Like Palpatine was trying to be clever and name them like the Nightsisters.

I initially went with "functionally one person" hive-mind but I'm torn.

I think maybe they're BASICALLY one person on Kamino but drift into Separate Consciousness once they're far enough apart physically that their minds don't blend from proximity anymore.

Then they start Dating (like half of them are dating Fett clones because they grew up with these dudes, it's like childhood friends romance), and Anakin loses his mind about Protecting Them and They're Too Young.

Padme: You're nineteen and we just got married, they can date. Anakin: THEY'RE EIGHT. Padme: And the Fett clones are ten and dying for us in the field. Get them rights before you panic about their love lives.

Firebird:

it could be worse, one of them could imprint on Obi-Wan. "Anakin I promise I won't yell at you for the next five stupid things you do if you can figure out a way to stop this baby from having a crush on me" (I like the idea of Obi-wan bargaining not with "I won't be mad at you ever" because they Both Know That's Not True, and instead haggling with specific allowances. Like he's handing out Stupidity Coupons)

Please imagine Mace and Obi-Wan's personal responses to the idea of suddenly having to deal with not one, not two, but OVER TWENTY SKYWALKERS.

Plo is delighted to take one off their hands.

So is Yoda.

Willow:

Mace is like. okay suicide isn’t the Jedi way but on the other hand. i physically cannot deal with this Yoda: a skywalker, you say? one who is tall enough to reach the top shelf, you say? such a skywalker, bring me

Anakin would be given at least one because fuck you, suffer with us, but he's still a padawan so Ugh, fine, no.

I want to say one stays on Coruscant to hang out with the Guard, and ends up half-adopted by Padme. She keeps dressing up the Aniclone left with her in handmaiden outfits and sending selfies to Anakin.

"Hanging out with the little SiL!"

Anakin has so many issues about WHEN his genetic material was acquired.

And there's some confusion from the Fett clones about how much of a hive mind is normal for Jedi. They are confused that the answer is basically none, and "this is WHY nobody clones a Jedi"

ONE OF THEM STEALS BOBA FROM THE ARENA ON GEONOSIS.

Firebird:

"I have followed in our progenitor's footsteps and acquired a sibling." holds up a struggling Boba "He bites."

Willow:

Ooooo okay so if they have a sort of hive mind then they probably don’t have names other than their designations on Kamino right BUT When they SEPARATE The one that picks Boba up on Geonosis gets a name specifically for that. Okay what if the one Padmé picks up gets some variant on ‘pretty’ because she’s always being dressed up BELLE Maybe Yoda’s Ani has a name that means thief? Because obviously Yoda is using Anakin to steal sweets

So, to make the timeline work...

I don't think anyone would give Anakin one of his sisters until after he's knighted at least.

So obviously when they're doing initial placements none of the sisters go to him or Obi-Wan.

Once he's knighted, of course they're already all placed with someone, and Anakin instead gets Ahsoka. He loves Ahsoka. She is also a little sister. He said so.

At some point afterwards, one of the sisters is left without a place because the Master that was in charge of her died in the field battle.

That sister then gets placed with Obi-Wan, because he's already mostly-successfully raised one Skywalker, so he can do it again.

Anakin gets to hang out with her basically all the time.

Ahsoka is very very jealous of this girl stealing Anakin's attention.

Anakin is oblivious to the rivalry.

He asks Barriss to look after them while he's discussing Adult War Things with Luminara and Obi-Wan, and Barriss gets an eye into This Mess, which is quickly colored by Ahsoka growing a puppy crush on the lovely Miss Offee herself.

Firebird:

Ahsoka: Ah yes, my nemesis. Anisister: Ah yes, my new older sister whom I want to impress so bad.

"I will impress her by being Stoic and Competent" "Oh my god she must think she's so much better than me what a bitch"

Anakin is oblivious to most things to be fair Anakin: Laser focused precision fighting machine who can read the tiniest body movements and predict your moves seconds in advance, who also cannot understand even the most basic social nuance. I was originally writing this as to Dunk on Anakin but then I made myself sad, because none of those things are really his fault.

So you know that post about like, Sasuke and Brooding, specifically in the context of "Brooding" as it's used to refer to Nesting Chickens? Grouchy and protective and sitting on a tennis ball trying to hatch it because they're just. "These are my Babies." Anakin Broods. Baby sisters. Must protecc. "I'm actually fine and extremely deadly in combat." "MUST PROTECT."

Bad Guy: [catches Ahsoka in a Trap] Aniclone: Must rescue sister! Aniclone: [fights, is not winning fight, gets ouched] Ahsoka tearing her way out of Trap: I lived bitch. Also: stay the fuck away from her. [murders so hard]

Ahsoka catches the Protective Older Sib feels by the traditional method: "Hey, only I'm allowed to be mean to them."

Willow:

Oh Anakin has no clue what’s going on. He walks in on Ahsoka glaring at the Ani and is like!!! Little sisters!!! Bonding!!! When Ahsoka was about three seconds away from tossing her out of the airlock. Ahsoka mistakenly assumes that Barriss has a crush on the Ani, and gets even MORE jealous.

Obi-Wan is like oh god. I can’t take care of an Anakin going through puberty again. He’s great with periods and other stuff because he read about a billion books. He is TERRIBLE with everything else, as he was the first time.

Barriss is like???? YOU'RE BOTH CHILDREN, PLEASE CALM DOWN, I HAVE ZERO INTEREST IN DATING ANYONE, LET ALONE SOMEONE YOUR AGE.

IDK how old Obi-Wan's Aniclone is, probably physically the same age as Ahsoka?

Per @atagotiak on discord:

Also something something, similarities btw Anakin and Obi-Wan where like. "Am I a parent? That seems uncomfortable, I'm too young to be a dad to a kid this age, I mean I'm cool with being a mentor/caretaker but..."

Obi-Wan can't even sidestep parenthood this time.

"Is Anakin basically your dad?" "Uhhhhhh" [Muffled discussion] "So Obi-Wan is your dad." "Okay!" "WAIT NO I DIDN'T AGREE TO THIS"

Ahsoka: She's stealing my brother, that BITCH. Obi-Wan's Aniclone: new sister new sister new sister gotta make a good impression

Firebird:

I feel like the Sister Squad would make very effective interstellar espionage agents Even like, kind of by accident. They just get encouraged to branch out in their interests and figure out what they want to do with their lives and end up all over the dang place, and since they're all pretty dang competent they tend to gravitate towards Important Positions wherever they end up. Except for one sister who just retires to raise Space Sheep.

I like that in this AU Palpatine is just like "I will create an army of Loyal Murderers who will obey my every whim and also be a big psychological lever on my Other Pet Murderer," and then they all just Baby Duckling imprint on the first Jedi to be nice to them instead and he has to just be like "Wait no not like that."

AND one of them Steals Boba

I want Obi-Wan's Aniclone to start dating Fives. All the sisters judge her for it, because he's a Goof. A very competent, ARC Trooper goof! But a goof.

Not as goofy as Anakin, though.

Firebird:

Who expects a clone of Anakin Skywalker to not make questionable lifelong romantic choices impulsively?

[kalinara]

So I’ve FINALLY broken down and got Disney +, and have finally caught myself up on the Mandalorian and Book of Boba Fett.

It’s fun being a Johnny Come Lately, because I know everyone’s already talked about everything and I can lurk unnoticed in my little corner of speculation and opinion.

One thing I’m realizing is that I really love Luke’s role in Book of Boba Fett.  That seems like an unpopular opinion, but I look at it the same way I see Luke’s role at the beginning of the Last Jedi: he’s at the start of his growth arc.

It bugs me to no end when critics of the Rise of Skywalker claim Luke’s characterization in that movie contradict his characterization in the Last Jedi.  It doesn’t!  The problem is that the examples that people use to illustrate the contradiction are from the BEGINNING of the Last Jedi, when Luke is wounded and bitter and lost in his despair.  That’s not where the movie ENDS.  At the END of the movie, Luke is fucking triumphant.  When he fades away, it’s not in defeat but in victory.  And his Order survives!  And THAT’s the man we see in Rise of Skywalker.

TROS had a lot of problems as a movie, as did TLJ, but I genuinely do believe they did a good job with Luke.  It’s not his Legends arc, and I can absolutely understand why many prefer that arc instead.  In some ways, I do too.  But it’s still a good arc in its own right.

Anyway, I was pretty mad at Luke and Ahsoka in Book of Boba Fett.  I mean, how can you not be?  LOOK at Din Djarin standing there, in the middle of the worst day of his fucking life, and his heartbroken little “but I came all this way”.  Of COURSE I’m mad at them.  Let the man see his fucking baby!

And coming from LUKE SKYWALKER.  The man whose attachment TO HIS FATHER saved the fucking galaxy!

But if we look at it as the beginning of an arc, it makes sense.  Luke is still VERY new at all of this.  He’s had, what, three days of training with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and maybe a few more days/weeks hanging out in a swamp, and that’s it.  The texts are few and far between (look at how desperately he clings to those in TLJ, and Yoda can fucking bite me for his glee there).  His primary sources for the old Jedi way of life are three severely traumatized old men, one known for creative mistruth, one known for ultimate trolling, and one who spent twenty years as a Sith.

He’s met Ahsoka, who has a bitter teenage apostate’s understanding of the Old Order.

So he’s over-compensating.

We KNOW he gets over it.  The Sequel Trilogy and its supplemental materials make it clear, for example, that Kylo had a lot of contact with his parents.  And it could be as simple as Leia listening to Luke prattle about non-attachments and telling him to fuck himself with his lightsaber, but I like to think there’s more to it.

There’s a beat that really stood out to me in Book of Boba Fett and that’s when Din Djarin, after hearing the Armorer’s explanation of Jedi non-attachment bursts out with “but that’s the opposite of what we do!”

And it stuck in my head because in a lot of ways, Din’s covert is a mirror image, parallel but in reverse, of the pre-Empire Jedi Order.

1.  They’re both pseudo-religious orders that exist in isolation. (The Jedi though, are in a position of respect and power, while the covert hides in the sewers.)

2.  They both survive through the recruitment and training of foundlings.  (The covert seems to skew a little older in its recruits than the Order did, and clearly anger/trauma is a selling point rather than a turn off.)

3.  Both have complex rituals involving martial items.  (Armor as opposed to weapons, for the covert, but still interesting.  Especially their near revulsion to Din’s beskar spear.  That’s for ARMOR.)

4.  Both practice a sort of non-attachment/non-engagement.  (The covert is physical rather than emotional.  But still.  Also tangentially, while I absolutely believe that the Mandalorians are more than capable of finding workarounds that let them have sex in the helmets, I 100% believe Din Djarin has never done any of them.)

That last bit though is the important one.  Because there’s nothing wrong with religious orders that encourages folk to make sacrifices like chastity, celibacy, wearing veils, et cetera. But there IS a point where the ideal behind these sacrifices are taken to an extreme that becomes harmful.

I don’t blame the Jedi Order for Anakin’s fall, and I don’t think they deserved to be wiped out.  It’s clear, to me, that Anakin’s flaw was in his obsession and his rage, and his inability to realize he can step back and choose something else.

But I DO think the Jedi MAYBE could have figured out the basic ideas that a kid whose mother was left in slavery might still be frantically afraid for her.  And deal appropriately.  I feel like the Jedi, while empathetic people by nature, were so molded by their particular upbringing that it led them to have a lot of difficulty understanding other mindsets.

On the covert’s side, well, exhibit A: Din Djarin on Morak.  He took off the helmet, which is a crushing sacrifice to begin with, but he’s so utterly terrified that he can barely function.  This is a man who walks around having PTSD flashbacks in his own family forge and cauterizing his wounds at a campfire and no one has any idea, because they can’t see behind the faceless mask.

And dubious purification rituals aside (I’m holding out hope for a nude scene that I’m sure won’t happen because it’s Disney), there is no exception to the ostracism.  They never ask how he unmasked, or why.  It’s enough to know he did.

So anyway, I don’t think it’s an accident that we get Din’s rejection from the covert at the same time that we see Grogu forced to make an unfair choice.  It might just be “let’s watch Din Djarin suffer a very bad day”, but I think it’s intentional.

Luke and Din have parallel journeys here.  What does it mean to be a Jedi?  What does it mean to be a Mandalorian?  And then, for Grogu, what does it mean to be both?  Because chainmail shirts still leave your arms free to wield a lightsaber.

[fettsvette]

Under the Crimson Moon

You have your period and feel gross. Boba Fett wants to fuck. A little blood never stopped the greatest bounty hunter in the galaxy from doing his job, and doing it damn well.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 7.2k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Menstruation/blood kink, penetrative sex

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Mando’a terminology:

   cyar’ika - Mando’a term of affection meaning sweetheart, darling, beloved

  -

  “If I want you to do something, girl

We both know that you will

I’m a dirty old man with a dirty set of dreams

Take off that dress if you wanna keep it clean...”

  ‘Up in Them Guts,’ Brendan Kelly and the Wandering Birds

   -

You hadn’t known he was coming until he’d actually arrived.

 One minute, you had been in a deep sleep, wrapped in the warm blankets that shrouded the king-sized bed, and then suddenly, you were wide awake. Because you’d heard it, and you knew in your heart of hearts that it hadn’t been the lasting echo of a dream.

 The sound of heavy bootsteps and the unmistakable jangle of spurs echoed in the crisp night air, emanating down the hall towards your bedroom doorway.

 You sat up quickly, blood roaring in your ears and your heart pounding wildly in your chest, and your head snapped towards the entryway, illuminated only by the moonlight flooding in through the bay window. 

 And there he was, stepping out of the deep midnight shadows with that slow, methodical walk that seemed to encompass his very being: Boba Fett, the greatest and most feared bounty hunter to ever live.

 And your lover.  

 If you didn’t know better, you would’ve sworn he was a statue of some ancient warrior, carved from marble and brought to life by a warlock’s spell. The way he stood unmoving and ramrod straight, just staring at you, always sent a thrill down your spine, his expression unreadable behind the darkened, T-shaped visor of his helmet.

 But still you groaned - not out of arousal, the expected reaction to the presence of the imposing yet entirely irresistible man who was currently gazing at you - but out of annoyance. You squeezed your eyes shut, almost willing him to disappear, to take the hint, by the time you opened them again.

 His timing couldn’t have been worse.

 “Boba, please go away ... ” You grumbled pathetically under your breath, cracking an eye open to look up at the silent figure clad in dark green armor, looking at you expectantly. You heard him let out a sharp hiss under the helmet, and he gave a start, his head snapping downwards, and you just knew he was glaring at you murderously. You had no idea how he’d heard you from all the way across the room, but he had.

 “ Oh ? What’s that , girly? You don’t like me anymore?” He stalked forward slowly, and the question came not with a teasing edge nor with an air of apprehension, but with an icy lilt to it. It chilled your blood, and it occurred to you that you may have just made a huge mistake in telling Boba Fett himself to fuck off. As much as you enjoyed the sexual satisfaction you got from these illicit romps with one of the most dangerous men in the known universe, the confident realization that he could potentially grow angry or bored enough to dispose of you at any time without even batting an eye absolutely terrified you. He was a bounty hunter, after all. At the same time, though, that same fear excited you beyond the wildest depths of your imagination. He’d shown you time and time again just how deadly he could be, and yet you had never turned away when you’d had the chance. And there had been plenty of those times. 

 “ No ! Boba, no. I - I s-still like you. Of c-course I still like you. But…” You began, stuttering and stammering like a nervous child, but stopped abruptly when Fett took another step forward, spurs clanking again. He either didn’t notice the effect his brief intimidation had on you, or he didn’t care. You assumed it was most likely the second one.

 “ There’s a problem. ” Fett wasn’t asking you. It was a statement. Maybe another time you would have attempted to lie your way out of it just to save yourself the embarrassment that you knew was coming, but tonight you couldn’t even find the energy to attempt it. 

 “I can’t tonight. I just... can’t .” You murmured, almost tearfully defeated, gingerly sitting up in the bed to take a better look at your nighttime visitor. You could see yourself reflected in the viewscreen of his helmet, disheveled from sleep and sickly-looking, although you didn’t know if that was a trick of the moonlight or a sign of your current condition. Despite the intense cramping in your belly that was overtaking most other sensations, you still felt a flutter of longing travel to your loins upon seeing Boba Fett. How badly you wanted to grab him by that clunky belt and drag him down onto the bed next to you, free him from his trousers, and ride him until you found your release, but your body wasn’t in agreement with your wishes in the least bit. You took a deep breath, and steadily looked him in the eye.

 “ I got my period this morning. ”

 Silence. Not even a tilt of the dented helmet, a gesture you sometimes received after making references that he didn’t understand.

 Feeling your cheeks aflame and slightly embarrassed by the lack of response, you tried again.

 “...I’m menstruating, Boba. You know… moon blood? The curse? I don’t know if that’s a thing that happens to people where you come from, but I’m bleeding out of my vagina and I feel fucking miserable and -”

 Fett cut off your babbling with a sharp gesture through the air with one hand, the other settled nonchalantly on his hip as he shifted his weight. He let out a gruff sigh that lifted and dropped his shoulders in an almost comical display of exasperation. 

 “I know what it is. I’ve been with enough humanoid females in my lifetime. Is that supposed to change our plans tonight, little one?”

 It was your turn to go silent. You should have known something venomous and snarky like that would’ve been his answer. And of course he had more experience than you, he was older - by just how much, you weren’t exactly sure. He’d never shared his age, and you didn’t ask. He barely spoke as it was. And you still had yet to see his face. He’d never offered to show you, however, as if it were some closely guarded secret only he was the keeper of. And you didn’t dare try removing that strange, heavy helmet of his yourself. Boba Fett had never hurt you, but you felt if you were to reach underneath the sharp edges of his armor, peel it away from the complicated, mysterious creature underneath, there was no telling what he would do. 

 Hell, you had never even seen this man’s face and yet you had let him fuck you within an inch of your life . You’d never been ‘that kind of girl’ before you’d met him, upsetting everything you thought you’d known about yourself and the universe around you, but here you were. And here he was. 

 But his comment about being with other women in his past still spun ‘round your head like some mad arachnid’s twisted web, and made you wonder if he was presently doing this very same dance elsewhere - in other cities, on other worlds. 

 ‘ If this is just a physical thing, no strings attached… ’ You found yourself brooding as you watched him languidly stalk over to the window next to your bed, tilting the green and red helmet upwards and search the night sky for things you could only vaguely guess at if you tried, ‘ Then why am I jealous of something I don’t even know is really happening? ’

 “I just thought...you wouldn’t be… into that ...” You finally replied, meek as a mouse, and instantly trailed off once you realized you had no idea what else to say to him on this matter, your face burning. You should have been overwhelmed with desire at Boba wanting to fuck you this badly, but you found yourself apprehensive and shy - over a little bit of blood . It was times like this that you couldn’t fathom why a man from outer space, an intergalactic cowboy like something out of a comic book, had fallen from the sky and had chosen you.

 His head turning slowly in your direction, Fett marched back towards the end of your bed, his hands gripping the leather belt at his waist.

 “Your condition doesn’t matter to me. It’s a basic bodily function. Have you forgotten, foolish girl? I take what I want, when I want it .” He intoned brusquely, and your eyes widened, a delicious chill crawling up your spine, and you felt your cunt clench at nothing. The crimson tide had come in, and he still wanted to claim you.

 Usually, you talked enough for the both of you. Now you found yourself utterly speechless. 

 There was silence while he stood at the end of the bed, and you goggled blankly at him. Fett was challenging you. He showed no signs of leaving, or of heeding your apprehension in the least bit. He just continued to stand there and stare mutely, stubbornly standing his ground. Damn it.

 He had played this strange game several times before after one of your numerous meetings, lingering after it had become clear that you were way too fucked out to stay awake any longer. He’d never forced you into a situation that you hadn’t been game for, but he always seemed to want to make sure you knew who exactly owned you - or your cunt , at least.

 So he hung around. You’d mostly hear him pacing the room, sometimes quietly rummaging through your bookshelves as if in a library, but more often than not, he would sit himself in the chair across the room, large gloved hands gripping the armrests and well-muscled legs spread mockingly wide, reclining back and holding a silent vigil over you as you fell asleep. He was always long gone when you awoke, although once there had been some sort of dried flower left behind on your nightstand, dark red petals with a metallic tint to them - quite obviously nothing that had grown on this planet. You had asked him about it the next time he had shown up, after an excruciating three month absence that he re-emerged from with several more dents in and copious chips of paint missing from his armor. He had gruffly feigned any knowledge of the gift, his focus only on the flower between your legs. The dried one, however - the little token of his appreciation or whatever you wanted to call it - stayed pressed inside one of your favorite books. 

 As a reminder.

 Boba hadn’t moved in a while, still penetrating you with his eyes through that damned visor, when you finally decided to give in to him. You wanted him. Badly. Your reproductive system was in full rebellion against the idea and you felt fucking gross, but you weren’t sure you cared any longer. You needed him, couldn’t resist him. Hadn’t you read somewhere that orgasms were supposed to help relieve menstrual cramps, anyway?

 You bit your lip and let him have his way. 

 “In that case, Boba… I think I might feel a little bit better if you fucked me.”

 The self-satisfied, smug chuckle came like a rumble of thunder.

 “Well, well… that’s my good girl. ”

 He was across the room in the time it took you to blink. 

 Boba was extraordinarily light on his feet for a big man, and he was on top of you in the span of a breath. Rough leather gloves formed a vice around the muscle and bone of your wrists, pinning your arms above your head. You let out a shriek of surprise rather than pain - while his grip was firm, it didn’t necessarily hurt - and he answered with a low growl, kneeling on either side of your hips. He used one huge hand to continue pinning both of your wrists down, the other masterfully unclipping the heavy armor of his codpiece. You let out a near-hysterical giggle as Boba tossed it to the side and it unceremoniously hit the carpeted floor with a harsh thunk , smiling even broader as he brought the same hand up to rest against your cheek, stroking the flushed skin there.

 “I told you, girl. I always get what I want, when I want it . Tonight isn’t going to be an exception just because you’re cycling and feeling sorry for yourself. If you’re not going to cooperate with me, nice and easy... too bad .”

 Gooseflesh broke out all over your body at his words. You were absolutely fucking drenched for him already, and you wished he would just hurry up and take you already, tear off your panties and fuck into you until you were screaming yourself hoarse. You still weren’t sure of where exactly the man who called himself Boba Fett had come from, or why he was here , or why he’d chosen to mark you for his territory on this shitty little backwater world. Fucking hell, you didn’t even really know this man at all, did you? All you did know is that you were addicted to his touch, and despite your initial hesitations, you were practically begging for it now. 

 Boba used his free hand to slightly peel back the blankets concealing your thin nightie and period panties. With a contented hum, he lazily reached out to trace a thick gloved finger right along the line of your slit, and you let out a high-pitched, keening whimper, your hips twitching up involuntarily towards his touch. Boba clucked his tongue disapprovingly and shook his head at you, sighing and looking up towards the ceiling.

 “How pathetic … is that really all it takes to make you fall apart for me, sweet girl?” Boba teased, releasing his grip on your wrists momentarily in order to fully pull the covers off the bed and toss them onto the floor. It only took those few seconds for you to take him unawares, weaseling out from underneath his looming form and using both hands to forcefully shove him backwards. Caught off guard by your unexpected show of strength, Boba fell on his back with a startled grunt, which was immediately followed by a groan as he watched you crawl on top of him. With shaking legs, you straddled his waist and positioned your heat right over his generous crotch, planting your sweaty palms against the reassuring coldness of his armor, and began to sloppily grind into him, dropping down to lie flat against his abdomen as you continued.

 Trying to conceal his own quiet moans underneath his helmet, Boba allowed you to frantically grind your hips against the growing hardness in his trousers for a few more moments, one large hand cupping your ass and the other on your undulating back, holding you steady as you hectically rocked back and forth, up and down. You whined pitiably and grasped at the grooves of his breastplate like a drowning woman before his tolerance towards your juvenile ministrations finally ran thin. As you went to roll your hips against the outline of his length yet again, Boba grunted bestially and grasped you by the waist, pushing you off of him roughly so that you went tumbling onto your back next to him. Your chest heaving, you looked sideways at him with heavy-lidded eyes, your cheeks burning with desire. The dark helmet slowly tilted to the side as Boba stared at you, and you heard a disgusted scoff echo from within.

 “That’s enough, you. Kriff, you’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you? Rutting in my lap like a loth-cat in heat and I’ve barely even touched you. Is that what you want, princess? Do you want me to touch you?” He purred mockingly, reaching down to lightly stroke your outer thigh with a gloved hand, briefly squeezing the soft flesh there and leaving fingermarks in his wake. You let out a throaty groan and thrust your hips towards his retreating hand, needing to feel his touch on your body, on your core.

 “I need you to touch me, Boba, plea-” He reached out and grabbed you by the face, squeezing your cheeks together hard enough for it to almost be painful, and you let out a squeak as he tightened his grip, turning your face towards his.

 “Oh no, little one. It’s not going to be that easy to get what you want from me, not after the way you carried on earlier.”  He lowered his helmet until the forehead of it was touching your own damp one, and as you stared into the blackness of his visor, you found yourself wondering what color Boba’s eyes were, and what he would do if you were to reach up and pull that big green bucket away from his face. Before you could even truly consider it, though, he loosened his grip and released your cheeks. You exhaled sharply, a rush of cool air gradually taking the place of the rough leather on your skin. 

 Boba sat back on his knees, and grabbed you under your arms, hoisting you up and pivoting your body so you were now hanging off the bed, your feet dangling several inches above the floor. He lowered you slowly, making sure your feet were flat on the ground before he let his hands leave your sides, fingers purposefully trailing and pressing into the supple, pliant flesh of your still-covered, swollen breasts as he withdrew. The sensation of his trace along the tender tissues set your nerves on fire, and your nipples hardened to an almost excruciatingly painful degree. You considered reaching out to snatch one of those gauntleted wrists and plant his hand right on your tit, willing him to knead and squeeze and flick at the oversensitive bud at its tip, but were brought back to reality by a sharp smack to your ass. 

 You yelped, grabbing at your backside and whirling around to see Boba sitting on the bed, staring at you. He had taken his gloves off, and had swatted you with them, both forming a makeshift crop in his calloused hand. He let out an amused snort at your look of shock, and patted the palm of his other hand with the fisted leather.

 “Go to the ‘fresher and clean yourself up.” You sensed by the edge to Boba’s voice that his patience was running low, and he gestured vaguely to the doorway with a jerk of his head. His rugged timbre crackled through the vocoder of the helmet, adding an even more ominous tone to his speech. He reclined on your bed, his ankles crossed nonchalantly, armored form looking massive and mind-bogglingly out of place as he lounged back against the pillows. It would have almost been a comical sight if it hadn’t been for the heady arousal you could sense in his gaze. 

 “And take that kriffing absorbent out while you’re in there. I want you nice and wet and open for me.”

 You felt your heart sink right to your cunt at his last words. Stars, you were fucking dripping for him. A wave of liquid heat that had nothing to do with your cycle had pooled between your legs, and you felt your knees buckle as visions of what intense pleasures this man might put you through tonight swam in your mind. You shambled to the bathroom on legs that seemed to be made of gelatin, breathing heavily through your nose, trying to keep calm as you wiped away the sweat that had accumulated on your body in an attempt to make yourself somewhat presentable. You splashed your face with cold water to keep yourself from falling faint at the knowledge of what was to come, glancing at yourself in the mirror briefly. Your eyes were glassy, your pupils blown wide, almost completely black in the harsh light. A fresh round of cramps erupted in a band around your groin, and you were starting to think you’d die if Boba didn’t fuck you soon. Resting one leg on the toilet seat, you shoved your panties to the side and slowly removed the offending menstrual cup that you had inserted before you’d retired for the night, hastily discarding it in the bin. You didn’t care if it had tipped over and made a mess, you’d clean it up in the morning. All you cared about right now was getting back to Boba and feeling him twitch and throb inside of you.

 He was waiting for you when you re-emerged, immediately rising to stand on the side of the bed. Beckoning you with the crook of a finger, he held out his hand to you as you practically ran towards him. As soon as the pads of your fingers had made contact with his, he spun you around to lie flat on the bed, head propped up behind the pillows, feet planted on the mattress and your legs spread so that he had a perfect view of your damp panties. Whether it was blood or arousal or a mixture of both, you weren’t sure - free-bleeding had never been your ‘thing’ and you weren’t sure if you liked the feeling - but as Boba climbed back onto the bed, openly admiring the wetness between your legs, you began to think that maybe it was something you could get used to. 

 He yanked down your underwear in one deft movement, grabbing hold of your calves one by one to remove your panties from around your legs, and tossed them to the side, where they landed in a crumple. He immediately leaned forward to spread your wet lips apart with his rough fingers, and you heard a sharp intake of breath come from underneath the helmet. It was barely audible, and you could tell that it had been involuntary from the way he had attempted to cut it off before it had even truly escaped. You flung one arm across your eyes, blushing furiously as you felt two thick fingers shallowly dip into your folds, swiping upwards briefly to gather some of the slick gathered there, then retreating just as quickly, before you could buck your hips into the welcome presence.

 “ Such a dirty girl …” He cooed darkly, and you opened your eyes cautiously just to see what exactly he was talking about. He perched above you on his knees, gazing at his own hand, the one he had just been briefly exploring your wetness with. 

 His fingers were coated in blood - your blood, your menstrual blood - and he was smearing the red between his thumb, index, and middle fingers, as if utterly fascinated by it. His helmet briefly dipped down to his fingers as he greedily inhaled your most secret scent, and the low groan he released made you throw your own head back in an echo, fire traveling from your slick cunt throughout your body. Your cry came out much louder than anticipated, and his head immediately snapped up, his hidden eyes boring into you. You embarrassedly tore your eyes away from the darkened visor and noticed the impressive bulge straining at the crotch of his flight suit, along with the telltale damp patch that could only mean his cock was already weeping precum - fuck, this was turning him on. 

 He moved forward once more, brushing your legs further apart with a swat of the backside of his other hand and, resting his palm atop your shaking knee, almost calculatingly smeared the blood from his fingers along your inner thigh, back and forth, until the digits were nearly clean. You noticed a bit of dried redness still staining his skin, and the sight made you dizzy with arousal. 

 You threw your head back against the pillows once more and whined morosely at the mark your essence had left on him, offering no resistance when Boba grabbed you by your elbows, easing you onto your feet in front of his own kneeling form. 

 “Up you get, girl. Come on.” 

 You looked down at him, slightly puzzled as to exactly what he was doing, until he sharply prodded the backs of your knees with his arm, causing you to stumble forward. He caught your fall by positioning one thick thigh to rest between your legs, and you landed with your sopping core pressed directly against the grey fabric of his flight suit. Upon realizing your situation, you clutched at his biceps and buried your face in his neck with a muffled groan, every fiber of your being going into restraining yourself from fucking against the expanse of hard muscle. Boba Fett had remembered what you liked best, and he’d weaponized it. 

 “Go on. Ride my thigh, little one. Make yourself nice and slick so you’re ready to take my cock inside of you. You’ll probably have to cum at least once before you can handle it - I'm too big for you, aren’t I? ...But that’s what you want, isn’t it? My cock in your pretty little pussy?” Boba asked sweetly, his tone oozing with sarcasm. He jiggled his leg ever so slightly, and a shockwave of pure pleasure coursed through your veins, and you couldn’t help but let out a strangled squeal. Your calves shook in a futile attempt to hold yourself still despite it, to not give in to what he expected of you.

 Boba had another idea though. He growled and clutched at your hips and began forcefully dragging you back and forth across the coarse material of his pants, causing you to emit a wail that echoed throughout the room. Boba hummed, satisfied with the effect his domination of your movements had on you, and lowered his head so that he was whispering in your ear, the sound delightfully harsh and metallic through his helmet’s vocoder.

 “What was that, precious thing? You love fucking yourself against my leg like the needy little brat that you are, I know you do… now say it . Answer me, girl.” Boba punctuated his order with a slap to your ass, aggressively driving the muscle of his thigh up into your quim.

 “Y-yes, Boba…” You weakly murmured, hiding your face against his shoulder, thighs clenching around his upper leg like a vise, your hips finally - almost involuntarily - thrusting into the meat of Boba’s thigh in time with the rhythm he jerked them back and forth with. “I… I l-love fucking m-myself on your thigh…”

 “ Very good …” Boba chuckled darkly to himself as he continued to bounce his leg up and down while guiding your hips with his firm, strong hands, reveling in the soft grunts you let out as he controlled your riding of his thigh. He began flexing his quadricep to usher your impending orgasm along, occasionally pressing the tops of your thighs down to create more friction against your clit, friction you desperately needed as you chased your first release.

 Your hips started to stutter much sooner than you had anticipated and you locked your arms around Boba’s neck in a death grip, lifting your face away from its place pressed against his breastplate to look into his eyes through the blackness of the T-shaped visor. Boba pinched the tip of your chin with his index finger and thumb, keeping your head in place so you were forced to meet his gaze as you came, his other hand planted firmly on your waist as he continued to shove your body back and forth.

 “Come on, sweet thing. Cum on my thigh for me,” Boba encouraged as your grunting turned into high-pitched whines, spaced out with every push of your hips into his leg. Wriggling yourself in small circles and grinding your clit into the rough flak of his flight suit, you tipped your head back as you were finally pushed over the edge. Your inner walls clenched around nothing, devastating waves of pleasure rolling through your cunt and up through your clit as you rode out your orgasm. Boba didn’t slow his ministrations in the least bit, continuing to pump his leg up and down, holding you tightly in place as the spasms finally began to slow down and your clit became horribly oversensitive, until he finally allowed you to push yourself away from him, falling back onto the bed, panting loudly.

 Trembling and shivering from the orgasm that had ripped cataclysmically through your body, you laid back on the bed, chest heaving violently, legs splayed and arms thrown limply above your head. You opened your watering eyes briefly to look at Boba, and they widened considerably when you saw that he was curiously running his fingers over several incredibly noticeable stains on the thigh of his flight suit.

 Incredibly noticeable dark red stains. More like streaks, actually, following the line your pussy had made rutting against his thigh as you had sought your climax on the thick canvas.

 You felt the warmth drain from your face, slightly horrified and ready to sink into the floor out of embarrassment. You’d been bleeding like a stuck pig all over his leg as he’d forced your orgasm out of you, and you hadn’t even realized it.

 “Oh, Boba … I…” You began, rising up on your elbows, trying to think of what to say to placate him so he wouldn’t reprimand you for ruining a part of the armor that he cherished more than most other things. He was staring at you, unmoving, and that’s when you noticed his hands were actually shaking . The heat immediately rushed back to your face tenfold, and your cunt grew even warmer, your own arousal coating your inner thighs anew at how much of a mess you’d made of this man, in more ways than one.

 “ Filthy girl. I’m going to fuck you hard for that.” The words came out in a feral snarl, and suddenly his hands were around your throat. You let out a gasping whoop as the air was forced from your lungs, although he wasn’t choking you hard enough to cause damage. The moderate pressure on your windpipe sent black spots to your vision, your own hands coming up to scrabble at the backs of his, more out of longing for his touch than a desire for him to stop, and Boba knew your limits by now. It ended soon enough, his iron grip relaxing almost as quickly as it had begun, and you gulped in fresh air. He ghosted the backs of his fingers over your exposed neck for a moment, wordlessly making sure that you were okay, and you pressed a chaste kiss to his knuckles as he dragged the digits over your mouth for a brief moment. Another growl left his lips as you did so, and your hammering heart flipped in your chest as you felt him still quaking from just how horny he was, how eager to finally take you.

 Boba hurriedly unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, his normally deft fingers stumbling in his aroused rush to free himself. You couldn’t imagine just how turned on he must be to completely lose his cool like this, and it dazed you to comprehend that he was like this because of you . He finally shoved aside the rough material and pulled his cock free. You’d seen him too many times to count, but that first glimpse still sent your mind reeling. He was fucking huge. A perfect eight inches, ever-so-slightly curved to the right, veiny and deliciously wide, the glans plump and dusky pink and already slick with precum. He’d gone commando under his flight suit, and you found yourself wondering if he did all the time. You hoped so - it was fucking hot .

 “Boba, wait - are you absolutely sure you want to do this? It’s… going to... make a mess…” You said weakly, grasping at his bracer with your trembling fingers and feeling as if you might faint as he lined up his considerable girth against your entrance. You felt the fat head of his cock against your lips, and it was like every nerve-ending in your body was fucking screaming at the tease.

 He paused for a moment, sitting back and studying you intently, slowly pumping his engorged member and spreading glistening precum over the velvety, blunt head with a still-bloodstained thumb. A taunting rumble emanated from under his helmet, and his length twitched in his hand. Leaning down to cup your face with one hand, the other on the root of his erection, hot and hard and throbbing against you, you could hear the smirk in Boba’s voice.

 “Oh, princess… I’m a bounty hunter. A little blood has never scared me.”

 He entered you without any further warning, one deep, agonizingly slow thrust, and it felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside in the best way. No matter how many times you’d taken him, no matter how drenched and ready you were for him, Boba Fett’s cock was massive , the biggest you’d ever had. Tears sprang to your eyes and you wrapped your arms around his neck, knees involuntarily drawing up so that you could wrap your legs around his still-clothed waist, wanting him closer and deeper despite the initial burn. He bottomed out just as he was starting to hurt beyond your threshold, just as you were considering asking him to stop, letting out a deep, low groan as his balls and the dark patch of curls surrounding them made contact with your skin. You could feel the seam of his trousers against your ass as well, the knowledge that he hadn’t even bothered to take off his pants in order to fuck you sending a thrill up your spine.

 And then he started to move.

 Boba pistoned his hips back and forth at a near-frantic pace right from the start, already grunting with the exertion, and you knew that he was trying his hardest to keep some semblance of rhythm, to not mindlessly fuck into you like a wild animal, solely focused on chasing his own orgasm. Your whole body moving with every thrust, your cloth-covered tits bouncing as he slammed into you, you looked down between your bodies and watched his thick cock slide in and out of you. Your walls squeezed and fluttered urgently as you noticed the wet sheen of your blood coating his member as he plunged deeper and deeper into you. He dragged his cock out of you until only the head was still sitting inside, then rammed back home - once, twice; you began to lose count as your mind became hazy with the pleasure.

 “Take the helmet off.” You found yourself gasping out, and Boba stopped as if he’d been frozen in time. He pulled his head back slightly to stare directly into your eyes, holding his body still above you.

 “Please,” you continued, “I want to see you, I need you to kiss me, I need to see your face, pleaseplease please, Boba-“ You chanted as if in prayer, stopping mid-sentence as you realized just how still he had become. 

 Boba gave no discernible reply, either audibly or physically, but you could still feel his surprise through your hands, the taut muscles under your touch having suddenly turned to stone. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. Panic rising in your gut, you expected him to pull himself from inside of you and push you away, to disappear into the night never to be seen again, you began to utter a quiet “I’m sorry, Bo-“ when he shushed you with a hiss, and reached down between your bodies to press his index and middle fingers to your clit, rubbing slow, lackadaisical circles over the swollen nub. He chuckled from somewhere low in his chest, both at your pleading to see his face, and your renewed mewls of ecstasy at his teasing fingers.

 “Hush, little princess. Some other time.”

 With that, he pressed his fingers into your waist and lifted you off your back with ease, scooting himself to the edge of the bed so that his legs were hanging over the side, your own positioned on either side of his waist so that you were sitting flush in his lap, your thighs pressed firmly to his, his pulsating member buried deep inside of you. Boba gave you a moment to settle in his lap and adjust to the new position, then wrapped one arm around your waist to keep you from tumbling backwards and began slamming into you with an almost murderous intensity, his other arm reaching between you and covering your pussy with his hand, using his thumb to rub frenzied circles into your engorged clit, periodically pinching and flicking. You bit back a scream and your walls clenched painfully around his cock, and buried your face in the scratchy material protecting his throat. Your head tucked underneath the lip of his helmet, you could hear Boba panting and letting out throaty little moans, the sound unaltered by his vocoder at this angle, and the rasp of his true voice made you squirm with delight, grinding back against the sharp, shallow juts up into your core.

 You felt a dampness forming on the material beneath your slack-jawed mouth as he fucked up into you; knowing that you were drooling right onto his clothing, completely cock-dumb and at the mercy of the man jackhammering into you, seemed to set off fireworks within your core. You heard a whining noise, steadily growing louder and higher-pitched as it went on, and it took a moment for you to realize that you were making that sound. Your second orgasm was building faster and faster, your own movements becoming hectic and sloppy against his rhythmic thrusting, and you persisted crying out wordlessly, rocking wildly on Boba’s lap. He continued to pound into you, growling and grunting like a beast, and that’s when you began to scream in earnest, the blunt tip of his cock finally scraping against that sweet spot deep inside your core, again and again and again. 

 Boba brought one hand up to stroke your cheek as his aggressive thrusts bounced you up and down in his lap, a soft shushing noise emanating from underneath the helmet. When that didn’t work to stifle your cries, he clamped one hand over your mouth, squeezing your face with the force of it.

 “There you go, little one. That’s it, come on… cum on my cock. Let me make you feel good…” He murmured, thrusting up into you one final time and grinding his hips in a semi-circle as he did, his glans catching against the spongy patch deep inside you again, finally setting off a volley of apocalyptic spasms throughout your cunt. You clenched painfully around Boba, your pussy fluttering, your entire body shuddering and heaving with the waves of pleasure rolling through your system. The orgasm dragged on and on as Boba continued to grind into you and you shrieked into his hand, tears rolling down your cheeks from the intensity of it. His thrusts were too overstimulating, bordering on painful, as the spasms finally began to ebb, but Boba’s movements had become increasingly erratic, his own grunts louder, and finally - with a muttered curse in a guttural language you didn’t recognize - he harshly yanked himself out of your still-spasming cunt and pressed his cock against your belly. Streaks of Boba’s cum spurted up, leaving his mark all over the front of your nightie. When he was sure his cock had been milked for all it was worth, just before he began to go soft, Boba quickly lifted your ass up with one hand and sank you back down onto him, causing you to gasp and rut against him several times in your overstimulated state. He stilled you by wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his chin atop the crown of your hair, both of you completely exhausted and unable to even consider a second round anytime soon.

 For a few minutes afterwards, you were pliant and vulnerable in his arms, your cheek pressed against the cool armor of his breastplate, shivering both with delight and the aftershocks of your climax. Boba’s own chest heaved as he attempted to catch his breath, his fingers running up and down your back, occasionally wiping the sweat and tears away from your face. You found yourself clinging desperately to his shoulder pauldrons, silently willing him not to move, to finally stay the night by your side. Neither one of you spoke, but you didn’t need to. You could have fallen asleep in his lap like this, legs dangling on both sides of his hips, his cock still inside of you, a strangely comforting sense of fullness. 

 It was too good to last, of course. With a relaxed sigh, Boba shifted, slowly lifting you off his cock. He left your opening with a wet pop , a mixture of pinkish menstrual blood and both of your arousals dribbling down the inside of your thigh as he flopped you down on the bed, stretching lazily as if he hadn’t just fucked your brains out. He stalked off to the bathroom without a word, probably to wash your blood off of himself. You closed your eyes for a moment, almost on the cusp of sleep and still sniffling from the tears your powerful orgasm had brought on, when you heard soft bootsteps returning from the other room, followed by the feeling of a damp cloth between your legs, gently cleaning your wrecked sex. You sighed softly at the unexpected sensation, and hummed contentedly when the cloth was removed and a warm hand settled itself over your lower belly, kneading the sore flesh there. 

 “Feeling better, cyar’ika?” Boba asked, and his tone made your heart ache. This affection was something fairly new, and you gave an affirmative, sleepy murmur in response. He had never called you that name before - he’d never even called you your actual name before - and you wondered what it meant, but knew you would only receive a brooding stare if you deigned to ask. You were too tired to consider it, anyway. You doubted you could stay awake for much longer.

 The hand withdrew from your tummy, and as your eyes fluttered closed, you saw Boba standing over you, looking every bit the fearsome warrior. He reached out and tapped his fingers under your chin delicately, and you heard the sound of spurs moving across the room, away from your bed.

 “ Good. ”

 He was gone in the morning, of course. 

 It had been silly to think maybe you’d open your eyes and see him sitting in the chair across the room, waiting for you to wake up.

 The only sign that someone else had been there at all was the delicious ache between your legs that always lasted for several days after one of Boba’s visits and the lingering scent of post-coital musk in the air, as well as a few bloodstains on the sheets and dried cum on your nightshirt that you hoped would come out in the wash. 

 And last night’s underwear had mysteriously vanished.

 You thought you had a vague idea of where it might’ve ended up.

[vashti-lives]

Book of Boba Fett feels like Star Wars in the best ways and Disney in the worst ways. Pretty long rant under the cut.

TL;DR-- Leia the Huttslayer should be the reason there aren’t slaves on Tatooine anymore.

I want to like the Book of Boba Fett SO BAD. There’s so much about it that I find charming and compelling and fun. I like the fact that Boba Fett apparently loves space dogs of all shapes. I actually really like the way they’ve structured Boba’s growth so that we see the result of it and what caused it side by side. I fucking love Fennec Shand. I even like some of the dumb shit like the unruly gang of cyborg youths and the fact that Tatooine apparently just has a thriving body mod subculture. This is hilarious and interesting to me. The evil wookie makes me laugh every time he’s on screen.

Even shit that feels stupid to me like the slapstick tiny robot kitchen chase scene also feels EXTREMELY STAR WARS. Like, Star Wars is often dumb you guys! Its literally called Star Wars which is an objectively stupid name for this franchise.

But god the bad parts of this show are just SO BAD. I’m still fucking mad about the Tuskans. Like, ONCE AGAIN if they had just let some of the Tuskans live the bit where Boba killed the speeder gang would feel so much more meaningful. At that point it wouldn’t just be revenge it would be Boba doing what he can to protect whats left of his former tribe. This would have so much more impact and would literally have required no changes to this episode. It would have also made the fact that in the end the Tuskans were just a plot device to spur Boba on his quest for Found Family(tm) much less infuriating.

I also just... cannot get over the elephant in the room that is slavery. One of Tatooine’s most important defining features is that it has relied on a heavily slave based economy. Its actually a huge element of the politics of the prequel movies and their related spin offs because they go to a lot of work to establish that the republic is not invested in ridding the outer rim of slavery and the jedi are effectively a branch of the republic and also only have like 10,000 members meaning that they also cannot just go around getting rid of slavery. This eventually creates a rift between Anakin and the Jedi Order that Palpatine exploits the fucking hell out of as a means of getting him to fall to the dark side. Slavery on Tatooine is an extremely important load baring element of world building.

So like... just deleting it from the narrative is SO FUCKING DISTRACTING???? And I get it-- in 2022 fictionalized slavery is super uncomfortable and Disney does not want to be associated with it. But I feel like there were better ways to deal with it that maybe wouldn’t have been perfect but IMO still would have been better than what they did.

Like honestly a cool bit of mythologizing of the OT would have been if Leia fucking strangling Jabba the Hutt on his own thrown with her own chains in front of a shit ton of people actually incited a massive slave revolt. Like, there’s a power vacuum with Jabba dead and everyone knows a slave did it and suddenly there’s a lot more question about where all the power is. Given how weak Bib Fortuna was it makes sense to me that as power structures crumbled slavery because a much less viable resource, especially if you make the argument that the New Republic was less willing to turn a blind eye to it than the Empire was.

This would also explain why Bib Fortuna was allowed to take over in the first place and why the twins didn’t push that hard to take Jabba’s place once Boba Fett showed up. If Tatooine had a successful slave revolt it would scare the fuck out of the Hutts and possibly make them feel like if they retake Tatooine there’s a chance the rebellion of the slaves would spread to other parts of their greater territory.

This isn’t perfect but I think slipping this here and there into the exposition would make a big difference and make the story feel SO MUCH LESS AWKWARD. Plus I really like the idea that the cyborg subculture consists largely of freed slaves who delight in owning their own bodies and doing whatever the fuck they want to them as a means of gaining power and showing autonomy. It would have been really cool world building!

[kestrelmando]

Group Therapy - Oneshot

Inspired by this post by thecyndimistuff (@thecyndimistuff ), apollonkondric , and  floatingearth about Peli Motto taking Din to a support group for empty nesters post S2. 

Warnings/Notes: None, possible a single swear word slipped by. Angsty, introspective Din and space mom Peli Motto taking charge. No romantic pairings, not beta’d please excuse any mistakes until I find them. Couldn’t help to slip a nod my other Mando fic Bird of Prey, Way of War in at the end. 

---

He’s tried being useful around – what were they calling it now? Fett’s Palace? – the palace; taking stock of weapons and resources left behind by Jabba and Fortuna. Weapons he’s familiar with; taking them apart, servicing them, and testing them gives him something to keep him busy and keep his mind occupied.  

He even took to sometimes mirroring Fennec’s imposing, protective place – on the left on Fett, never the right that was Fennec’s earned spot – on the dais when Fett had meetings because no, you should not fuck with the legendary bounty hunter but especially when he’s got a sharp shooting assassin on one shoulder and another infamous bounty hunter clad head to toe in beskar on the other.

He’s done perimeter sweeps with Fennec, who chooses to humor his morose silence, and with Fett, who also allows the silence but is far less indulgent about it. Oh, Fett never calls him out on it. Quite the contrary, bounty hunter to bounty hunter he can read Din like a book and knew from the moment he returned to the Slave that he was not ok. Still wasn’t ok but that doesn’t stop the occasional long drawn sigh from the older man.

All in all, it took a week for Din to be sent to Mos Eisley to ‘pick up supplies’. He wasn’t stupid; he knew Fett could’ve sent anyone working for him to go on a supply run. He initially welcomed the change of scenery before remembering he’d have to travel hours around the Great Mesra Plateau and his only options of landscape were either endless sand or the red rock formations and canyons.

So Din dutifully took a land speeder and set off to Mos Eisley, trying to ignore the repetitive backdrop that allowed him far too much time to think about his foundling and his accidental acquisition of the darksaber with Fett’s warning still ringing in his ears ‘make sure you take that thing with you’.

 ---

 The supplies, or rather supply, in question was a tiny compressor part for the climate control unit that could fit in his pocket.  The vendor had taken one long look at his beskar and held up a bin of the teeny components after Din asked about it and he was done within half an hour.

…Now what?

He found himself following the by now well-known path to Peli Motto’s hanger. She was familiar territory, she was easy to talk to and almost painfully transparent. Perhaps most importantly in this moment; she wanted nothing from him.

The door to Peli’s outbuilding slid open for him and he wandered in, hands painfully empty, and let the pit droids fuss over him. Tatooine’s hot suns greeted him as he stepped into the hanger bay, eyes scanning for the mechanic. The hanger was empty, no parked ship in sight, and the mechanic was elbow deep in a pile of scrap muttering to herself and passing parts and pieces to a pit droid.

Din smiled under his helmet when she tossed a piece of scrap away from her with a huff and it landed near his feet. She turned her head briefly to see where it landed and then whipped it back towards him, hand flying to her heart.

“Stars Mando!” She sat back on her heels and blew out a breath. The mechanic frowned, “Where’s your ship?” Peli stood, dusting her knees and palms off, and took a few steps towards him with a hand pressed above her eyes to block the suns. She looked him over and then stopped dead in her tracks, “Where’s…where is the baby?”

He felt his throat close around any words he was going to say. Peli’s eyes darted around his body; around his hips for the bag, his feet for the little one to pop out around him at any second. She opened her mouth to say something, her face drawn tight, when he simply couldn’t keep up his stoic façade any longer.

A short hiccup, somewhat garbled by the vocoder of the helmet, slipped out followed by a low keen he couldn’t bear to swallow. Din shut his mouth with a snap, a flush creeping up his neck while his hands closed opened and closed around nothing – empty. Peli’s eyebrows rose in concern momentarily before she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before slowly extending her hand towards him. Her fingers closed around his elbow, shoulders losing their tense line when he didn’t protest, and guided him back towards the outbuilding.

Din let her steer him to a small table in the corner and ease him into a chair. She disappeared around the corner momentarily and was back with a bottle of boga noga and two small cups. Peli sank into the chair opposite him and poured a couple fingers the Hutt ale. She curled her hands around her drink and looked up at him, face pinched.

“Just tell me first; is he ok?”

He took a deep breath that sounded strained through the beskar, “Yes.”

Peli visibly deflated as her shoulders sagged in relief, “Oh thank the Force.” She muttered before taking a sip of her ale, wincing a bit.

Despite the lump in his throat, he felt the corners of his mouth quirk upwards in the beginnings of a fond grin. Din swallowed, “His name is Grogu.”

She cocked her head, thinking on the name, and smiled. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes and watched the pit droids scurry about the hanger through the viewport. Eventually, she flicked her eyes back up the Mandalorian and asked, “What happened?”

He paused and wondered if it was safe to tell her more than sparse nonspecific details. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her; quite the opposite she’d shown herself to be a loyal friend and Din had already entrusted Fett and Shand with the whole story. But Peli was different – she wasn’t a fighter. Still, Moff Gideon was in the custody of the New Republic and Grogu was safe with Skywalker. He supposed it was safe enough.

So he laid it all out for her and once he started he found that he couldn’t stop. He talked about the bounty from the remnant Imperials on Grogu and how the kid had saved his life with the Mudhorn, how he took on the task of keeping him safe as his foundling and out of the hands of those who would hurt him and use him. To their short time on Sorgan and how Grogu terrorized the local wildlife, how he was tasked by his alor to reunite him with other Jedi.  Din told her of his meetings with the Jedi Ahsoka Tano and Bo-Katan, interspersed with a quick and bastardized history of the Mandalore.

He had to pause when he got to Tython. His voice was caught in a steel trap in his throat.

Din considered the shot of ale and tipped the helmet back just enough to not spill it all over himself before downing it. He immediately understood Peli’s grimace when she sipped on hers; it was sweeter and fruiter than he was used to but it was unbearably strong. His eyes watered at the burn. Her gaze flicked to his exposed chin momentarily before darting away and she finished hers too, coughing a little.

She rose her eyebrows at him and he knew what she was thinking; I didn’t think you were allowed to do that.

He continued quietly – Tython, Grogu’s capture, and the Razor Crest getting destroyed. Din covered Morak as clinically as he could and felt the need to explain a bit more about his creed to the mechanic. She watched him carefully and frowned when he began to get hung up. Din gestured uselessly next to her, “I – it should have been a bigger deal. It should have meant everything but I – the kid –“

Peli gently laid her hand on his forearm. His helmet slowly turned to look back at her but she held her ground and patted his arm. Din pressed on and spoke of Gideon’s cruiser, the rescue, and his accidental acquisition of the darksaber. He haltingly recounted his goodbye to his foundling and slumped back in his chair when it was over.

The mechanic was silent next to him, her hand light on his arm, before she turned to him thoughtfully. “Mando—“

Why the hell not. “Din. My name is Din.”

“Din, you did what you had to do for the little one.” She looked nostalgic, “Parent’s sacrifice for their kids. You can’t understand it, can’t know what you are willing to do until you have one. He needed you and you stepped up. I don’t claim to know to know much about your people but it sounds like you fulfilled your mission.”

Peli stood then, collecting the empty glasses. “You say you’re out near the Northern Dune Sea? How long will you be here?”

He nodded absently, “No more than a few days. I’m returning to the palace soon—“

She whirled back around horrified, one of the glasses slipping from her fingers, “Jabba’s Palace?”

Din caught it quickly, “Fett’s Palace.”

Peli wasn’t appeased. “Fett? Boba Fett?”

“Yes—“

“That bantha brain owes me money!”

Din chuckled, realizing she more annoyed than afraid. Fett owed her money? That sounded like a story. Peli headed back towards the kitchenette with a huff and Din dutifully followed with the other glass. Peli sighed exasperatedly, “I was the only one willing to work on that ship of his for years! No one else would touch it, it sat in that hanger for years and no mechanic was willing to do any maintenance on it – oh Peli what if he comes back – well, what’s he gonna be more mad about? That someone was poking around keeping it running or that we just let it sit and get taken by the sands?’

She took the glass from him and deposited it in the sink, “I spent five years taking care of that rust bucket! He comes back looking like hell with no credits and says he’ll pay me ‘soon’. When is ‘soon’?”

He didn’t give it a second thought; Fett had given him way more credits than he’d needed to pay for the part and he knew that she would be a good resource for Fett – she wasn’t afraid of him. He reached into his pocket and held the bag of credits out to her. Peli slowly stretched out her hand and took it, inhaling at the weight of it.

“If that doesn’t cover it let me know. I can pass along that you are willing to work on the Slave, it’d be a regular job.”

Peli passed the heavy bag of credits back and forth between her hands, smiling, and then said, “You know…he can wait a little longer.”

 ---

 Why did he agree to this?

Peli turned from the small table housing drinks and snacks and held out a cup of chilled caf to him. Din slowly turned his head and shoulders towards her and, despite not seeing his face, she read his tone.

She frowned, “Oh right.”

The mechanic turned away for a moment, fiddling with something he couldn’t see, and twisted back with a triumphant grin. Peli brandished a long straw and poked him in the shoulder with it when he didn’t move.

“Come on Mando, just take it.”

With a sigh, Din took the straw and caf before reluctantly following Peli into the other room. All the chatter immediately ceased and six pairs of eyes snapped to him as he rounded the corner with her. He didn’t know what he expected, it was the normal reaction to beskar – still his insides felt hollowed out after his talk and something about it stung a little.

Peli, however, paid it no mind and all but dragged him to a seat next to her. The other occupants, some human and some not, stared and waited for an explanation. The mechanic took a bite of her snack, a large cookie, and chewed slowly. She met the confused and frankly frightened looks of the group and took her time to chew and swallow, all the while rolling her eyes at the over the top reaction.

She was never given a reason to be afraid of her Mandalorian, or even Fett despite his reputation, and he’d always been fair and polite. Oh, she knew their reputation – bloodthirsty, ruthless, and unfeeling. But after seeing Mando with the baby, she had done some digging. Tatooine might be in the backwaters of the galaxy but it had a long history and many colorful inhabitants; between the HoloNet and asking around she’d learned a bit.

That child was never in any danger from the Mandalorian, in fact there was scarcely a safer place to be. Mando – Din – had taken him in and done right be him. Still, she knew he had to be uncomfortable in a place like this. She picked a spot facing the door and had already decided on the way in that she’d do the talking.

She brushed the crumbs off her hands, “Sorry we’re late. This is my friend, Mando.” The silence was deafening but she continued, “He doesn’t say much.”

His helmet turned almost unnoticeably towards her and she met his visor. Peli shrugged and rose her eyebrows; am I wrong? The Mandalorian cocked his head in agreement and leaned back into his seat. She sipped her chilled caf and settled in as a human across from them began to speak. She hadn’t brought him here to talk, she brought him here to listen.

He stiffened when she mentioned it back at the hanger, thinking it was a support group for parents whose children had passed on. But when she clarified that it was for parents without their children with them, whether it be they had simply grown up or were temporarily away, he hadn’t seemed any less rigid.

“I – I’m not his father.”

It was the softest she’d ever heard him and she felt her heart clench at the melancholy tone. His fingers twitched anxiously at his sides, opening and closing.

She countered, “You are in all the ways that matter.”

In the end, Mando tentatively agreed to go with her. The pair listened as the group went around with updates or things they did to alleviate the ache of missing their loved ones; some were grown with families of their own, others had moved off-planet, and some were off training at various academies. They talked about how they kept in contact and how they kept busy. Some tended hydroponic gardens, others kept meticulous journals, and still others traveled. He snorted; one sent his alien foundling with a Jedi across the galaxy and took up being a menacing beskar statue behind an infamous bounty hunter who may or may not be the ruler of Mandalore.

Din retreated into his own thoughts, wondering how Grogu was doing with his training. He could almost picture it in his mind; Grogu’s little brow wrinkled in concentration, maybe with his eyes closed if he was really trying, and the Jedi directing him. He imagined the little womp rat chasing – terrorizing – the local fauna and pouting about not being able to eat all the time. Would he still have his mythosaur pendant? Was he happy?

He blinked back to attention when Peli plucked the straw from his fingers and slid it into his caf with a small clink. People were looking at him expectantly, he swallowed nervously before realizing it was actually Peli there were waiting on.

She stood to get another cookie and Mando took the groups distraction to slip the long straw under his helmet. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but a cold drink was too tempting to pass up. Peli settled back in next to him and began to speak, “Well I have some updates,”

Peli broke the cookie in half and continued, “Corjul still hasn’t left Endor. After all that time on Hoth, he just decided that Endor was ‘perfect’ and he volunteered to monitor the shields. I’m not sure there’s much of anything out there but the natives…but he seems happy.”

Din stared under his helmet – Peli Motto had a kid. He supposed it made sense now he thought about it; why else would she be coming to these meetings? The mechanic finished a bite and folded her arms, “I am glad he’s just an analyst, not running around after Empire remnants. “

He sipped at his now lukewarm caf and wondered what her son looked like. Her voice flitted over his head, "Now Briell—“ Din inhaled sharply and his caf slurped loudly through the straw. Two children? Peli glanced at him, amused, “Briell has been settled nicely on Ord Mantell for a while now with her husband. I’m heading there in a couple weeks, my granddaughter is turning two.”

There was a murmur of appreciation from the group, some congratulating and some asking for a holo. He smiled, happy for her. It seemed the meeting was winding down and he took a long drink of his caf to finish it. “And as for Savi—“ Din choked on his caf, coughing and yanking the straw out from under his helmet to press an ineffectual hand against his chest.

Three. Three children Peli Motto had and Din knew nothing about it. Sure, it hadn’t come up in casual conversation, not that he was much of a conversationalist anyway, but certainly it would have come up? Grogu took to her so quickly and he hadn’t really questioned it but now he could see the pieces fitting together. The way she’d fussed over how to hold Grogu, was he getting enough to eat.

“Anyway, Savi is still planet hopping. He sends a holo when he remembers to. Last I heard he was heading to Coruscant to stay with a friend who’s a lobbyist. Still trying to ‘find himself’.” Peli patted his shoulder, “I’ve got this one to keep me busy and he just hooked me up with a steady new client.”

He took Peli’s cup and his own, following her nodded direction, and went to clean them. It was a simple kitchenette and he used as little of the moisture farmed water as he could to wash them out. His mind wandered again and he palmed the metal knob in his pocket; Fett, in between gasping peals of laughter, telling him that he knew exactly who the Jedi was and that Grogu would be safe with him. He wondered if the kid was pulling all kinds of things out of the air by now – Din smiled – he was going to be a menace once he could grab whatever he wanted regardless of where it was.

Peli’s head poked around the corner, “Hey Mando, you ready to head back?”

The Mandalorian nodded and followed his friend back onto the dusty streets of Mos Eisley. They walked in companionable silence, Din’s head on a swivel watching the road as the twin suns began to set. He fingered the comm unit in his pocket, wondering for the umpteenth time when Skywalker was going to contact him about Grogu’s progress. The man said he’d be allowed to visit, that he wasn’t a believer in separating families but still Din wondered.

“You know, Mando, you’re allowed to miss him and be proud of him.” Peli said next to him.

He looked down to her, “Am I?”

She sighed and stuffed her hands into her pockets, “Yeah. My kids all left Tatooine to do bigger, better things. Of course I miss them, sometimes I miss them more than I can stand but I’m so proud of them. I couldn’t hold onto them forever but it doesn’t mean they are gone for good.”

Din sighed, “I understand that. But he’s – he’s so young what if he doesn’t remember me? What if he’d rather stay with his teacher forever? What if—“

Peli grabbed his elbow, stopping them just outside of her hanger. “He adores you, Din. Anyone can see it, he won’t forget you. He’ll do what he needs to and then you and him will decide what’s next. It isn’t forever.”

He blew out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and swallowed the lump in his throat. It isn’t forever, we will decide what to do next. Din followed her into the outbuilding and stopped when he caught the mischievous look on her face. He slowly tilted his head at her, almost afraid to ask.

“You’ve done me a favor with Fett, Mando. I might have a ship you’d be interested in.”

[themandadlorianbod]

Someone whom IMDB lists as a sound person on The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett confirmed Brendan Wayne's return to The Mandalorian for S3, in a comment on a post BW made about his gramps.

ooh interesting!! I’m not his biggest fan 😒 but I still credit him with shaping aspects of the character we love and I also think it’s fucked up that he needed a gofundme to cover medical bills while simultaneously the first season of Mando was airing and this massive phenomenon. So I’m not gonna be mad he’s staying employed haha.

also hopefully he’s been on set a lot and portraying Din 🤷🏻‍♀️ more P voice at least…

[rose-blooms-red]

@universes-mystery you are a menace to society and I am in....so much pain

anyways, long story short, I have been convinced to make an updated fic post thingy after someone went through my blog and made me look at my old fics :’) 

So!! uhh yeah Ro Fic Hype Post take 2 lmao, i have too many fics at this point so im just gonna link some that made me happy or just that i remember having a grand time writing.

Star Wars

“Be the Rarepair content you want to see in the world”: Listing all the ones from this series would take too long. Just know that these were all a joy to write and that there is a Large Variety lol.

not something that you put to bed: my first foray into soft wars! lmao, i was super nervous with this one lol but I do still like it more than i usually like my fics! And i was happy with how this one came out. It’s Edee squad centric, specifically Neyo and Fox interaction and yeah, there’s a reason i joke that my brand is trauma recovery dkjfskjdf.

don’t break the bottle: my second go at soft wars and I do still like this one, it’s Cody and Neyo centric, around Cody getting Neyo’s pledge and dealing with leftover stuff from Priest’s training. There’s things i’d def try and do better but, its nice and not as bad as i feared nkjdfjnd.

sins of the father: this is a second person Boba Fett character study and I do actually still adore it. it kicked off it’s own series actually, that I cowrite with @graaaaceeliz and has expanded far past what i thought would be just a tiny little oneshot to put my boba and jango feelings. It was a fun adventure into writing in a writing perspective i dont use much and helped me get a bit of a grasp on both Boba and Jango

and the whisper in your head goes quiet: another 2nd person Boba fic, made people mad at me jdfnsjkf. Includes the hc that Boba had a chip and it malfunctioned and Jango had the Kaminoans remove it.

the hum in the air (and the gentle love): was really nice to write and i do still love how soft it is,though there are things i’d def change. It’s a soft little codywan oneshot with poetry.

gentling the edges: Neyo and babies, im just...so soft, there is so much soft

little darling: Fox and babies, because i am so soft still over babies and the older clones okay.

you will be alone, always: was a fun one, made some people cry lol. Obi-Wan centric, canon compliant, with hints of QP Codywan.

love or the lack of it: Bly and Neyo centric, lots of fun to write lol. Soft wars, and im still quite pleased with it. a bit heavy, heed the tags.

the art of the mind: Soft wars, Jet and Bacara Centric. i loved exploring them more honestly, i kinda wanna do something else with them.

Messing around in the soft wars sandbox: now that i think about it, just linking this series might be better XD a lot of the next few I was going to put are from here. It’s basically just all fics set within the Soft War’s AU by @thefoundationproject lol

(give me) something soft: one of my first fics in the Star wars fandom, It’s Kix/Agen and I’m still super soft over this pairing and writing this made me v soft.

the burning heat upon my back: another one of my first few fics in the star wars fandom, It’s an Anakin introspection type piece as I was trying to figure out how to write him and getting settled in the fandom.

like a lazy ocean (hugs the shore): Wingfic, Kit Fisto centric, hinted possible kit/monnk. This was just hilarious to write lmao.

calm your mind and quell your fears: Wingfic, Obi-Wan centric, soft, QP Codywan fluff.

name the child innocence: was fun, Wingfic, Jango Fett centric, it’s a lot heavier than the other wingfics tho, so heed the tags.

childhood (strong and full of foreboding): apparently i really like doing explorations on trauma and how the past can shape you and how you can shape yourself in spite of the past and things like that kjdsnkjsdf. It’s told in various Clone’s p.o.v and switches between Anakin and Obi-Wan’s Not Fun Childhoods.

hold your heart (be still): Ahsoka and Rex bonding! set in the same universe as childhood!

DC

the art of siblings is that sometimes you just wanna fight them: A lot of fun lol, batfam centric, the kids being Themselves and Dick is Exasperated lol

we lay here (for years or for hours): which is an introspection and sort of character study on dick that throws out any semblance of timeline or canon. trigger warnings for depressive and suicidal thought and major character injury

setting fire to our insides for fun (to distract our hearts from ever missing them): in which dick is sad, bruce is gone, and dick really just wants his dad, his sleep-deprived mind decides to be kind, because the world is not, this one made me sad

i have tried to hoard your love (and found it slipping through my fingers): a look at Jason and books, and the complex thing that is a childs need to be loved

fault lines: A fic about recovery and the difficulties, or; Dick Grayson and trauma, recovery, and his siblings. Something’s wrong with all of them but they work through it, eventually.

this one is a rough ride, still a WIP and it deals with a lot of heavy topics, flashbacks, trauma and discussions of the trauma, deaths, injuries, rape, broken relationships and dysfunctional ones, borderline abusive behaviour, talks about all of the above, and the healing process. Tread lightly with this one as it deals with heavy topics in it’s quest to say fuck you to certain dc writers.

Bnha

Shock: Kaminari feels, The dangers of electric quirks

Flicker: The Todoroki’s deserve better, Dabi is an angry child who misses his mama

All I’ve Ever Known: Genfic, Dabi is Touya, Fuck gender, Chronic pain, Touya/Dabi needs help

We go down swinging, My lovers and I: Shigadabihawks, Major Character Death, not a happy one folks.

[captainmazzic]

"not a fan of the whole “rogue Jedi tracked down by Vader and his edgy minions” plotline in general" Can you elaborate? Am curious to hear your thoughts!!

Hm. I guess it’s just not my cuppa, to be honest. There are so many other tropes in Star Wars I’m far more interested in -- Old Republic era Sith shenanigans, Yuuzhan Vong craziness, Mid- and post- One Sith speculation (that’s where the old EU left off before Disney got their sweaty palms on it), classic Galactic Empire vs. Rebels, pretty much any storyline focused on bounty hunters, Prequel/Clone Wars-era stuff if it involves my faves, etc. etc. 

Like, I like a lot of the inquisitors, as characters. But I just don’t find them interesting. I don’t find their stories compelling. Not in a way that makes me want to consume a whole lot about them, at least. The whole “corrupted Jedi” thing irritates the ever-loving shit out of me, because it almost always carries an implied statement that any Jedi who was disillusioned with the system or who was abused or tortured will inevitably become an evil minion and a terrible person by default, and also they will, to a man, die terrible deaths. And that’s... just not interesting. I hate being introduced to a good antagonist knowing for a fact that there’s no hope for them to survive the story arc. Call it attachment or abandonment issues or whatever, but it makes me far, far less interested in getting to know them.

ex. Hell, I’m still mad about Maul, I will always be mad about Maul, because I invested a lot into that character, having an idea that he was going to end but at least I thought they’d let him... have something. But they systematically took everything away from him, beat him down, tortured and abused him, and expected us to cheer. If they do that with a character as beloved as Maul is, I know for a fact that they’re not going to go easy on newly-introduced characters coded as villains, like the doomed inquisitors.

I have problems with character deaths.

Star Wars can’t seem to figure out what to do with characters that have nothing more to add to the narrative once their involvement in their story arc is done. Because the main storyline has already been established, they seem to think that the only way to sideline newly introduced characters not in the OT/Prequels/Sequels is to kill them off, and almost always without those characters having ANY effect on anything in a positive or meaningful way. Nevermind the fact that the galaxy is huge, and they could very feasibly affect their own corner in their own way without affecting the “main canon”. But Star Wars prefers to kill off characters after dangling them like carrots in front of those of us desperate for anything other than standard hero template. One of the few exceptions I can think of off the top of my head is Ahsoka, but she’s so fucking close to the hero template anyway (and the baby of one of the main driving creative forces in Star Wars, so of course she’s still around), that she just doesn’t quite strike the same chord. Boba Fett (and Cad Bane, if I’m not mistaken) have dodged this bullet too. Fett got a phenomenal run in the EU, solely because of being such a fan favourite. But not everybody can reach that level of popularity, so after a book or two, or a comic or three, or a series arc, most of the best and most interesting characters are conveniently dropped off a cliff or run through with a lightsaber. Can’t have any loose ends keeping our stories from being tidy little episodic packages, can we?

Whatever happened to worldbuilding where there was room enough for lots of stories?

So yeah. I just... I don’t like a lot of the inquisitor stories because I know they’re doomed to die ignoble deaths usually at the hands of their torturer, or some plucky Jedi spouting cute snark or pretentious bullshit.

That and I have zero interest in whatever Jedi they’re supposedly pursuing. I don’t care about their stories. I don’t cheer them on while they run for their lives, I don’t hope that they survive, I don’t worry for their safety. You could fit my concern for them in a thimble and still have room for tea. I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. And since it’s usually the Jedi that are the focus of the stories that include inquisitors, those are the stories I’m least likely to want to read about. 

I got a little off track there, but sometimes the vitriol just leaks

EDIT: I’m not sure what happened there, but the readmore is stuck in the ask itself. Sorry about that. Long post.

[aion-rsa]

Biggest Movie Traitors and Backstabbers in Cinema

https://ift.tt/3u8zB6p

Last week, as part of the streaming service’s ongoing plan to bring Warner Brothers’ slate of theatrical releases to audiences at home HBO Max premiered Judas and the Black Messiah on the same day it opened in theaters. Directed by Shaka King, the incendiary historical drama centers on the rise of Fred Hampton, the charismatic Black Panther Party leader, and his tragic betrayal at the hands of FBI informant William O’Neal.  Daniel Kaluuya stars as Hampton, a scorched-earth performance that attempts to recreate the magnetism and magma-like intensity of the revolutionary figure, but Kaluuya is somehow not the star of the film.

The film’s true protagonist is O’Neal, played by LaKeith Stanfield. After getting himself into some hot water, O’Neal is propositioned by FBI agent Roy Mitchell (Jesse Plemons) to either infiltrate the Black Panther Party and report back on his findings or face jail time. At first O’Neal seems to luxuriate in the kickbacks he’s given by Mitchell for his intel but he quickly learns how dangerous it is to lead a double life. O’Neal also has to try to reconcile betraying the very movement he’s spent real time and energy trying to build.

Stanfield’s performance is filled with queasy anxiety and paranoia but also cockroach-like survival tics. It’s an all-time great turncoat performance, worthy of the biblical reference in the film’s title. To honor Stanfield’s turn as “Wild” Bill O’Neil, here’s a countdown of some of cinema’s greatest backstabbers.

Fredo Corleone – The Godfather Part II (1974)

Fredo Corleone, the least intelligent and most ineffectual of Don Vito’s children, has become something of a pejorative term used against anyone deemed to be the lesser sibling in a famous family. Played with a sense of melancholy and knowing pity by esteemed character actor John Cazale, Fredo’s betrayal of his brother Michael is due more to petty jealousy than it is to Machiavellian scheming or dreams of leading the Corelone Crime Family.

As the character pathetically rages, “‘Send Fredo off to do this. Send Fredo off to do that. Let Fredo take care of some Mickey Mouse night club somewhere’… I can handle things! I’m smart! Not like everybody says!” The worst part about Fredo’s actions against his family is that it’s unclear if Fredo actually knew what was being planned against his brother or whether he was just blindly jumping at the opportunity to be important and have something for himself.

Lando Calrissian – Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

Perhaps the most lovable backstabber on the list, Lando at least shows some backbone and tries to make up for his nearly unforgivable alliance with the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Vader. While serving as Baron Administrator of Cloud City in The Empire Strikes Back, Lando is visited by Vader and bounty hunter Boba Fett and told to help trap his old friend Han Solo and the Rebels seeking sanctuary in Cloud City in exchange for the safety of the city’s citizens.

After selling his friend out, Lando has a change of heart when he overhears Han being tortured and realizes that Vader and the Empire were already reneging on their promises. He helps Leia and Chewbacca escape, and is able to evacuate Cloud City before the Empire is able to retaliate. Later he participates in the near-incompressible plot to rescue Han Solo and serves as a key general in the Rebel Alliance. Still, even back when he’s on the wrong side of the fight, Billy Dee Williams is able to turn Lando an appealing character, making his eventual redemption that much sweeter.

Henry Hill – Goodfellas (1990)

Ray Liotta plays the ultimate rat. After a long and fruitful career as a capo for local boss Paulie Cicero, Henry Hill’s mafia lifestyle comes to a final, screeching halt after he’s arrested by narcotics agents while trying to facilitate unapproved drug deals with his Pittsburgh associates. Henry’s good friend Tommy jokingly posits that Henry would crack under questioning earlier in the film, but Henry’s damning testimony against his associates Jimmy Conway and Paulie is all about survival: Henry knows that if he doesn’t cover his own ass, Jimmy will have him and his wife killed.

Read more

Culture

The Real Goodfellas: Gangsters That Inspired the Martin Scorsese Film

By Tony Sokol

Movies

The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone Proves a Little Less is Infinitely More

By Tony Sokol

Becoming the very thing that mafioso’s hate most of all, Henry turns on his friends and is forced into the witness protection program. All Henry ever wanted was to be a gangster, but in the protection program, he’s reduced to “an average nobody. I get to live the rest of my life like a schnook.” It’s a fate that may be worse than death for him.

Mr. Orange – Reservoir Dogs (1992)

Arguably the villain of the story, depending on who’s side you’re on, Mr. Orange is actually L.A.P.D. undercover cop Freddy Newandyke. Looking to bring down crime boss Joe Cabot, Mr. Orange infiltrates his crew and takes part in diamond heist gone bad. In the ensuing chaos, Mr. Orange is shot and ends up killing an innocent civilian in retaliation. Played by Tim Roth, Mr. Orange screams and cries as he believes he’s fatally wounded, but it’s also possible that he’s airing out the guilt he feels in letting his undercover operation get so out of hand.

Without going into all of the bloodshed in the conclusion of Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs, Mr. Orange’s double agent status is so sound that it eventually leads to the demise of almost all of Cabot’s colorful crew, and Orange then feels compelled to confess his deception, resulting in an ambiguous ending that most believe concludes with his death.

Dennis Nedry – Jurassic Park (1993)

Wayne Knight’s Dennis Nedry is probably the most cartoonish Benedict Arnold of the bunch, and if you think about it, the only human antagonist in the original Jurassic Park film, if you’re not counting short-sighted, megalomaniacal John Hammond. The slovenly Nedry is chief architect of the computer system at the fledgling Jurassic Park theme park, and he’s miffed by perceived low pay. So he decides to take an offer from Lewis Dodgson (“DODGSON, WE GOT DODGSON HERE!) of rival biotech company Biosyn to steal embryos of 15 dinosaur species in exchange for $61,500,000.

To make his grand escape with the embryos, Nedry shuts down the park’s security systems, including the electric fences surrounding the dinosaur paddocks. He also uploads a self-aggrandizing computer virus to prevent the systems from being quickly turned back on. However, a perfect combination of his own harebrained scheme and a nasty storm leaves Nedry stranded and at the mercy of a young Dilophosaurus. It does not end well.

Cypher – The Matrix (1999)

Cypher’s betrayal of the Nebuchadnezzar crew in The Matrix is pretty easy to see coming, and not just because the character is played by Joe Pantoliano, who’s portrayed many malcontents throughout his career. Cypher being a red pill dabbler and wishes he had taken the blue pill instead. He also outwardly makes his disapproval of Morpheus known throughout the movie. Using “ignorance is bliss” as his mantra, he strikes a deal with Agent Smith to return him to the Matrix and erase his memory of ever awakening from it in exchange for selling Morpheus out.

Read more

Movies

The Matrix 4 Already Happened: Revisiting The Matrix Online

By John Saavedra

Movies

Jurassic World: Top Jurassic Park Deaths by Dinosaurs

By David Crow

After tipping Smith off to a meeting with the Oracle, Cypher goes full villain and unflinchingly kills Dozer, Apoc, and Switch before finally being stopped and killed. At least he’s free from the reality he hated so much.

“Mad Eye Moody” (aka Barty Crouch Jr.) – Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (2005)

What’s a bigger betrayal: Death Eater Barty Crouch Jr. revealing that he’s been impersonating Alator “Mad Eye” Moody for the entirety of Harry Potter’s fourth year at Hogwarts, or Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling revealing herself to be a transphobe, betraying many of the themes of her beloved book series? We’ll leave that one to you, dear reader.

However, Barty Crouch Jr. (David Tennant before he was the Doctor) memorably betrays Harry Potter and the Hogwarts community by using the Polyjuice Potion to impersonate the former Auror and ensure that Harry would get into the Triwizard Tournament and ascend to the Third Task, which was a trap to help Lord Voldemort return to a body of his own. At least the real Mad Eye didn’t actually turn his back on those that revered him (like Rowling).

Colin Sullivan – The Departed (2006)

The biggest rat in a film full of “gnawing, cheese-eating fucking rats,” Sgt. Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) is the criminal counterpoint to Leonardo DiCaprio’s undercover cop Billy Costigan, an undercover gangster who serves as the personal mole to Irish mob boss Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson).

Played with smarm and cowardice by Damon, Sullivan eventually double crosses the police and Costello when he discovers that Costello is an FBI informant—a rat leading rats. Scared but trying to retain his high-ranking job, Sullivan misguidedly tries to position himself as a hero and tie up all loose ends, resulting in a shocking, bloody finale that finds cocky Colin Sullivan miraculously as the last man standing. Or at least the last man standing for the moment, as a final, forgotten loose end returns to give the audience what they want; another dead rat.

Robert Ford – The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford (2007)

Well, it’s all right there in the title, innit? Played with a jealous, insecure bent by a creepy (in multiple ways) Casey Affleck, Robert Ford starts off as a Jesse James fanboy, desperate to join the outlaw’s gang with his brother Charlie (Sam Rockwell). When he finally gets close to the mythical criminal (a shadowy Brad Pitt), Bob begins to resent the man, eventually brokering a deal with the Governor of Missouri to either capture or kill Jesse James in exchange for a substantial bounty and full pardon.

Read more

Movies

Hamilton: The Real History of the Burr-Hamilton Duel

By David Crow

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News of the World Review: Tom Hanks Western Has Rugged Warmth

By David Crow

Bob Ford cozies up to Jesse James even further, eventually earning the man’s complete trust, before cowardly shooting the man in the back—although in the film both carry an air of expectation that it needs to happen. Ford then lives out the rest of his days known as the coward punk that betrayed Jesse James until his eventual murder.

Aaron Burr – Hamilton (2020)

Close knit allies but ideological opposites, Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton both fought in the Continental Army for independence from the British. However, when it came time to actual govern the new country that they fought to begin, the men drifted apart.

It’s unfair to call Burr the only backstabber in this relationship, because both men betray their former friend. Burr (Leslie Odom Jr.) becomes jealous that Hamilton (Lin-Manuel Miranda) constantly has George Washington’s ear, and switches political parties to defeat Hamilton’s father-in-law in an election, ending their mutual admiration.

Burr also inadvertently pressures Hamilton to publicly reveal an affair, which strains the rivals’ relationships even further. However, when Hamilton endorses Thomas Jefferson (Daveed Diggs) in the third presidential election, a man that he doesn’t even like, to block Burr’s political malleability from the presidency, it becomes the final straw for Burr, who challenges Hamilton to a duel. In the ensuing gunfight, Hamilton throws away his shot, and Burr seals his fate to be remembered as the villain who killed Alexander Hamilton.

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from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3s9KYZR

[the-loveliest-lies]

I’m reminded how fucking awful book of boba fett was and I’m still so mad. I mean it’s barely better than Wandavision and y’all know how much I despised that garbage lol

[shadowmaat]

star wars asks: 1 8 11 12 22 58?

1. Favourite Star Wars movie?

Mmm... I’ll go with Empire Strikes Back. The Team is starting gel a bit more, a victory has been won, but the stakes get higher, too. We get to meet Lando and Boba and all kinds of weird shit happens. Luke chooses his friends over the Jedi and that’s a nice “fuck you” to Yoda.

8. Favourite Star Wars book?

Wrath of Darth Maul was fucking horrible in terms of the things that happened to Maul, but it was really well written and adds tons of volume to the character. In lighter stuff there’s The Princess, The Scoundrel, and the Farm Boy, which is a YA novelization of A New Hope that was clever and cute. ONLY the first book, though. The second one was by a different author who insulted both reader and characters and made me too mad to finish reading chapter 1.

11. Top 5 favourite female Jedi?

Does Issa count? ;) Ahsoka, Vokara Che, Jocasta Nu, Aayla Secura, Rey.

12. Top 5 favourite male Jedi?

Kit Fisto, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Plo Koon, Finn, pre-sequels Luke Skywalker.

22. Who would you be in the Star Wars universe?

I’d be a librarian buried deep in an archive somewhere, but I’d also spend time hunting down more books/datatapes/holocrons/whatever to add to my (I mean the Library’s) collection.

58. Top 5 saddest Star Wars deaths?

Do you mean deaths that were heartbreaking but well done or deaths that piss me off? I’ll go with the latter since it’s easier.

Darth Maul, of course. What a fucking waste of potential and all to satisfy some shitty half-assed gimmick. 

Han Solo. Are you fucking kidding me? Sure, it was a heartbreaking moment, and yeah, I get that Ford wanted out of the series, but it’s downright offensive to kill off such an iconic character just to give some two-bit tantrum baby more angst.

ALL OF ROGUE ONE. I can’t even watch the movie all the way through because of it. The idea that “hope” can only be built on a pile of corpses is so fucking BULLSHIT. Also, the whole “well, they weren’t in the OT so there’s no other explanation for their absence” is one  of the most pathetic, least imaginative (and least consistent) lines of tripe to be spewed.

Padmé. Died in CHILDBIRTH. Yeah, sure, blah blah Siddy draining her life force, but COME ON. That was a garbage ending for a character who deserved better in so many ways.

Boba Fett. Admittedly in the OT there wasn’t really much to him, but that was still a ridiculously pathetic death and if you know more about him from the prequels and TCW then it becomes even more obnoxious. His death was practically comedic relief in the middle of an action sequence and fuck you, Lucas, for doing that.

I’m also giving a special shout-out to Leia because I know they’re going to kill her in the next movie and I know it’s going to be overwrought and emotional and trying too hard. And given that they’ve already killed off every single motherfucking major character from the motherfucking OT it loses a lot of its poignancy because FUCK YOU, that’s why. It’s a shitty way to run a sequel when you have to destroy EVERYTHING from the original. How goddamned immature.

[tathrin]

For a lighthearted scene, I have two characters debating who is the better pilot: Poe vs Han Solo from Star Wars. (I realize Poe has a more maneuverable fighter, bit taking into account both fighter capacity and sheer skill). I know nothing about Star Wars and Google isn't helping. What do you think? Any major battles I can refer to for research?

Okay strap-in because you asked me a Star Wars question so…rambling ahoy!

I’m probably (okay definitely) biased, because I’ve spent several decades reading about Han Solo and his piloting and my exposure to Poe’s consists of all of one movie plus a few comics – but I would say Han, personally, just because he flies so much outside the box. And I don’t just mean he’s an idiosyncratic pilot who comes up with unorthodox techniques; I mean he literally flies ships in ways they are not meant to be flown. Regularly.

There’s a quote that comes to mind (and I may be paraphrasing slightly because I’m pulling it from memory, but): “That has to be Solo. No one else thinks a stock-freighter is a snubfighter.” And that’s why I’m putting him over Poe.

Because as good as Poe is as a pilot, Han regularly takes ships miles beyond their specs – and does it well. He’s not just good, he’s insane. Stock light freighters are not snubfighters; they don’t have the maneuverability or the weapons for close-combat engagements. Even when they’re tricked-out with extra armaments, it’s so they can defend themselves from pirates and flee – not so they can cruise into snubfighter engagements and shoot TIEs out of the sky. But Han does this so regularly that people start to expect it. Like “oh that’s the Millennium Falcon, they’ll come help us out in this fight!” or even “oh that’s the Millennium Falcon, we’ll take that with us when we go up against the Second Death Star in a massive space battle!” That’s not the type of ship that should be going into combat…but Han does it so often that people just nod and accept it as an okay thing to do. By the way it is not an okay thing that people should do.

(And yeah, he caught Vader by surprise…but there still aren’t a lot of people who can say they’ve shot down Darth Vader. Heck, there aren’t a lot of people who can say they’ve caught Vader by surprise, but Han and Chewie did it!)

As for direct battles to refer to, I’m not going to be much help because all of the battles that I know about exist in a canon where Poe doesn’t exist. Because they’re from the old Legends EU, which is defunct now. (Sadness.) However, you can always bring up the shooting-down-Darth-Vader-thing as that’s from the movies so it counts…and of course, the Kessel Run thing is a big deal, much as it gets played for jokes: he managed to fly so close to the event horizon of a bunch of black holes that he actually shaved distance off his flight path (without getting consumed by said black holes) which is…pretty impressive. And crazy. (And also perhaps no longer canon ummm maybe check on that.) But hey, you can definitely bring up the 3720-to-one odds of successfully navigating an asteroid field, because not a lot of people could survive flying that and that was in the movies as well, so it’s definitely canon!

(He did once outfly Boba Fett in the Dark Empire comic too…which again my bias is showing, but that’s pretty damn impressive in my book!)

So I would focus the conversation on the madness that is Han Solo’s piloting, for sure; because while flying a snubfighter well is impressive, flying a ship in ways that the ship wasn’t even designed to do is just nuts, especially when you do it over and over again instead of just when under duress and don’t have a choice. Because it’s one thing to shoot down TIEs when they’re swarming at you, and something else altogether to go chase those TIEs down willingly when you’re in a ship that has no business going up against fighters like that.

Especially because his ship is usually falling apart at the time, too. People tend to be pretty impressed that he can even manage to keep the Falcon in the air, honestly…let alone fly it well enough to shoot down crack Imperial snubfighters.

The fact that Han (again, in Legends chronology) also figures out how to fly and manage capital ships is a big mark in his favor too, because they operate very differently from snubs (or light freighters pretending to be snubs lol) and as far as I know, Poe has only ever done snubfighters. As far as I know, mind you!

Vaguely Relevant Story Time: at one point (in defunct Legends chronology) a Rebel base was evacuating too slowly and a star destroyer was going to pound them, so a few X-Wing and A-Wing pilots fake-up a weird shield/energy signature and broadcast some staticky communications to make it sound like they’re an escort of fighters trying to sneak a breaking-down Millennium Falcon with Princess Leia onboard out of the area before the Imps can detect them, and the Imperial captain’s reaction is basically “this makes no sense – but that sounds legit because nothing Solo does makes sense, quick break off the attack on the base and go after that ship!” At one point he asks his sensor-techs if the specs they’re reading match the Falcon’s sensor profile and the response is basically “umm…we have at least four different sensor profiles on record for this ship over the last three years alone, sooo…no?”

At another point, in order to infuriating an egotistical post-Imperial Warlord, some of those same pilots – with Han’s blessing and Chewie’s help – mock-up a different YT-1300 freighter to look like the Falcon and fly it around to annoy this dude (they call it the Millennium Falsehood) and just the nonsense that goes on with this escapade is…pretty damn epic. And at one point involves a protocol droid wearing a Han Solo-facemask and impersonating his voice. This has actually very little relevance to Han’s piloting abilities…but is one of my favorite tricks ever pulled by any of the Rebel pilots, so I’m sharing it anyway because it’s a good story and does at least support the idea that people think of Han as a good and utterly unpredictable pilot, because the Imps at no point suspected that it wasn’t actually Han flying around on these ridiculous missions despite the fact that he was supposed to be managing an entire fnarling taskforce at the time and had no business taking his ship out on risky solo (ha) jaunts like these wtf dude.

Also Han (in Legends; I have no idea if this part of his backstory remains canon now) attended the Imperial Academy, which means he once flew TIE fighters when he was younger, and anyone who can survive flying those tincans…well! Let’s just say that attrition among TIE pilots is hella high and leave it at that. (They have no shields; that’s why they’re faster than X-Wings. No hyperdrives or ejection life support either, so not only will you go up in a ball of flaming gas if you get shot, you can’t eject and you can’t escape. Talk about a deathtrap…)

At any rate, the fact that people like Wedge Antilles (arguably the greatest snubfighter pilot in the Rebellion, at least in my opinion!) respected Han’s piloting to the degree that he did means that his reputation was not unearned.

tl;dr in technical terms, Poe is probably the “better” pilot. In terms of what the fuck just happened was that even a ship??? however Han Solo wins hands-down because while Poe might be able to outfly him in a straightforward one-on-one simulator match…Han Solo doesn’t fly straightforward ever. He’s a maverick pilot who makes his ships do things that they should not be able to do. So no matter how good of a stick-jockey Poe is (and I do believe he’s a good one), Han ranks as a better pilot in my book due to his audacity and unorthodox tactics because he flies ships in ways that other people cannot. In ways that, in fact, those ships cannot. But in Han’s hands, they do. Somehow.

…erm so I hope that lengthy ramble helped? I will be glad to answer follow-ups or tangents if you have more questions! And I apologize for the verbosity lol.

@andspiders