#Jango is off doing...something! who knows!

[josephsaturn]

tattoo artist/flower shop owner but with a twist

[astheforcewillsit]

In which the Kaminoans provide a miseducated version of what and who the Jedi are, and the clones realize that at their core, the Jedi are religious monks.

Cultural misunderstands are bound to ensue due to this.

(based of the scene where Obi-wan and Anakin bow to Echo and Fives after they join the 501st)

(original ao3 link)

The first time Obi-Wan bows to Cody, he does so low and Infront of the men. All of the men. It is not a simple incline of his head. It is a slow, low dip.

Ancient practiced movements, just as Qui-Gon had taught him.

They had had saved his life. Again And he is truly grateful. He is still unused to a war like this. His very essence as a Jedi protests his involvement in it.

But he moves only by the will of the Force, and it has brought him to such a moment like this.

Before he completes his gratitude, he is stunned by a collective gasp amongst the men and an arm on his shoulder. The Force tells him it is one of the younger men.

There's a sharp reprimand from Cody, and the arm is off, though the Force is still disturbed

(The touch had not bothered Obi-Wan, in between droids and separatist leaders, it has been the kindest touch he's had all week.

It doesn't bother him, the touch of the clones. He enjoys their presence. Though he can feel the fear palatable through the Force. He hopes that one day they'll be less terrified of him. That they will know him for the human he is. Force knows the damage the Kaminoans have done to the reputation of the Jedi Order.)

Cody steps up as Obi-Wan rises--clearly the action disturbed the peace.

"Sir, I-"

"Clearly I have done something to offend you." He straightens himself, "I apologize."

Cody looks scandalized. This is not going well.

He hesitates. His Commander is still a Labyrinth. He looks at the face of Jango Fett everyday, though he sees none of the darkness clouded in those eyes. With Cody, it's almost fear.

"Sir, there is no need to apologize to us. it's just..."

"it's a sign that we've done wrong and have to ask for forgiveness, usually done by subordinates--cadets to the Kaminoans or the bounty hunters that trained us. When you did that, well...it looked like you thought you did something wrong, that maybe you were asking for forgiveness or was ashamed," another clone (Boil, Obi-Wan reminds himself, the "shiny" who touched him) supplies with some distaste, "doesn't mean the same for you sir?"

Obi-Wan could confuse them, because technically Jedi do bow for forgiveness too. But not in shame, never. He decides to keep it beginner level friendly today.

"I am expressing gratitude. You saved my life," Obi-Wan responds as if it is the most obvious thing, "Though If I have done anything wrong, it has simply been confusing you all. I will not bow if it makes you all comfortable."

His culture is important to him. It his his blood and his soul, but these men are not here with him of their own accord. These men are making sacrifices just by being alive, Obi-Wan could stand to be more like them. Though his heart pulls at the thought of abandoning something so natural to him.

"No sir, that is not necessary," Cody seems to relax in front of him. His anxiety has dissolved into gentle waves in the Force, and instead Obi-Wan senses a small bit of curiosity.

It reverberates through the company.

"Should we..."

"Oh Force no, if bowing has been negative to you please do not do it on my account. And I will alter it," he makes an example, inclining his head just slightly and putting a hand to his chest, praying he doesn't offend, "I am grateful to you all, and I endeavor to show it."

"Only what you're comfortable with, your culture is sacred to you, I know this," he adds, "and if you never tell me anything, I will be okay with that."

"Can you...can we learn more. The kaminoans didn't tell us you did that, they didn't tell us you were...priest--"

"Monks," Obi-wan corrects and smiles at the clone who asked, Waxer the Force tells him, "And I will till you all you want to know about the Jedi, if you feel comfortable telling me about who you are."

There's reluctance in the Force. They may not be Mandalorians, but they carry the secrecy of their beliefs with them. He doesn't blame them. They have so little that belongs to them, the clones. Why give what scarcity they own away to the man who they were handed to on a silver platter.

The Force radiates skepticism, but also trust.

Good, the gap is slowly bridging.

[saphronethaleph]

RTKM

“I can’t speak to him until tomorrow?” Obi-Wan checked.

“I am afraid not,” Taun We replied, with a conciliatory gesture. “It is a shame you have come all this way to meet with such inconvenience, but perhaps if you had commed ahead…?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“That would have worked better,” he decided, thinking. “Would you be able to run me through some of the key decisions made on the specifics of the army? I’m afraid they were taken several years ago, and I’ve only come to this particular project quite recently – I’d like to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.”

“Of course,” Taun We agreed. “In addition to providing the template, Jango made many of the decisions on training – that is not our speciality, as we prefer to allow our clients to make the appropriate arrangements in doctrinal matters.”

“Naturally,” Obi-Wan agreed, pacing down the hallway. “What weapons and equipment are included in the contract?”

“A basic load for the first two hundred thousand units has been procured,” Taun We replied. “All part of the initial purchase, naturally. We are aware that our clients may need to take urgent delivery. Any upgrades, however, will have to be provided by the client.”

She gestured, indicating one of the staging areas. “Rothana Heavy Engineering has provided much of the heavy equipment. Several large orders were made.”

This was getting more and more involved, and Obi-Wan’s worry was only increasing.

How much money was involved with this army?

“You mentioned behavioural modifications?” he asked.

“Naturally,” Taun We confirmed. “Neural inhibitor biochips are a standard installation on most of our clone lines. Our products are designed for maximum obedience through a careful inculcation of a culture of volunteerism, but overrides are always considered useful.”

She took out a datapad, tapping on it, then held it out for him. “A full list of the commands. I hope you’ll find that the details are entirely within the contracted parameters.”

“I hope so as well,” Obi-Wan replied, paging through the datapad.

He’d been wondering how a clone army could work, on a practical level, but seeing some of these commands it was apparent what would be involved. The clones would be trained in all military skills, and in showing initiative, but the dozens of indexed commands would erase or alter specific factors of their behaviour.

They would retain the same skills as before, but their free will would be restricted, causing them to obey as readily as droids. One of the commands on the datapad was to discard their communicators immediately, while another was an order to charge a position, regardless of casualties – and Obi-Wan had seen enough of conflict to know that that would be able to win some battles all by itself.

So long as you didn’t see the ten-year-old clones who’d be doing it as who they were. As much children as adults.

Then he stopped, and stared.

“Is something wrong, Jedi Kenobi?” Taun We asked.

Obi-Wan shook himself.

“My apologies,” he said, turning off the datapad and stowing it in his robes. “While I hope it won’t cause any problems for you, I’m going to need to check something later… are there any exercises going on at the moment?”

“Of course,” Taun We replied, pleasantly. “Would you prefer close combat exercises, heavy weapons, or long arms?”

“You’re going to need to hear this, Masters,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ve arrived on Kamino and found that Master Sifo-Dyas had ordered a clone army that was – supposedly – to be used by the Jedi, at the request of the Senate almost ten years ago.”

“Killed before that, he was,” Yoda replied.

“That was my impression as well, Master,” Obi-Wan replied. “But the clone army has neural override chips in them – standard practice here, I understand – and I was given a list of the commands.”

He cleared his throat. “Order number: 66. Authorized to be used by: the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, voice command, no other authorization required. Approved propagation: Command Clones may spread this order down the chain of command. Effects: Eliminate all previous affection or comradeship towards Jedi subjects of order, specified at time of use. If undefined, all Jedi are subject to order. Order subjects are to be designated traitors and eliminated immediately, maximum priority. Clones not acting in compliance with order are to be designated traitors.”

Mace Windu inhaled.

“That would be-” he began, but Obi-Wan raised his hand.

“Sorry, Master, but I hadn’t finished,” he said. “The effect section continues: redesignate Supreme Chancellor as Lord Sidious.”

Mace and Yoda both stared at Obi-Wan through the scrambled hologram link.

“Hell, kriffing,” Yoda said, eventually.

Mace started giggling.

“Master Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, worried.

“This is why you always read the manual,” Mace said, between giggles.

[tarre-was-right]

ROUND ONE: MATCH-UP FOUR

Remember, this is NOT about who would win in a fight. This is about who makes the best leader for Mandalore as a whole.

Explanation post

Seeding

Propaganda below the cut! You can submit more on this post and I will reblog it back to here!

BOBA FETT

Anon: Boba The Builder, can he do it? Boba The Builder, yes he can!

@spacetime1969: He grew up in the political game that is the criminal underworld and managed to out manuver all the other groups on Tatooine to take control of the planet. That's not something you can pull off without political and tactical skill.

Anon: Boba Fett Propaganda: - Boba Fett was explicitly raised by his father, past Mand'alor Jango Fett, to be the legacy of his own adopted buir, Mand'alor Jaster Mereel; while this training did seem to focus more on the bounty hunting and mercenary aspects of their work, it presumably included many lessons about working with people and negotiating, both of which would come in very handy - Boba is commonly held to be a classic example of a child who grew up in a cultural diaspora, feeling largely disconnected from his Mandalorian roots; given the climate on Mandalore after the Galactic Empire glassed it during the Rebellion Era, his experience is likely representative of many of the surviving Mandalorians, who likely also grew up away from their traditional homeworlds in the sector, possibly even in hiding as in the case of Din Djarin's Covert - speaking of Din Djarin, the strong respect between him and Fett would likely put Fett in good standing with those traditionalists, who would similarly respect Fett's connection to their people as the son of a Foundling, even if he wasn't raised the same way as them - in Legends, Fett's connection with Goran Beviin and his family really brought him more fully back into Mandalorian culture, and in a way that makes a good story to sell to reporters (and readers, breaking the fourth wall a bit there, lol) - finally, Boba DID become Mand'alor in Legends continuity, and one that seemingly enjoyed popular support!

Anon: You know what? Boba Fett was given a bad hand in life. He’s done some bad things. But you know what he’s shown? Drive. Commitment. Determination. Resilience. Willpower. And a shocking refusal to die when he’s gone up against bitches badder than himself. Thats more than some Mandalorian leaders can say for themselves. He keeps going. And it’d be funny. Here IS how Jaster can still win. - Also I think that he would be pretty chill. Cody prolly couldnt be. We’ve seen him rule a city, maybe questionably.. but he was hot doing it. Fennec would probably help him and she’s hot too. Din would prolly be good with it. Cody’s last experience ruling was being involved in the empire and witnessing a horrible execution after negotiating a surrender. He prolly wants nothing to do with it now. And good for him! Let!! Cody!!! Retire!!! This isn’t a popularity contest.

Anon: Boba Fett Propaganda: Boba Fett literally was the Mand’alor in legends, and he did a pretty fine job

COMMANDER CODY

Anon: Propaganda for Commander Cody: - Cody was a student of Alpha-17, who in turn had been personally trained by former Mand'alor Jango Fett, giving him a strong training lineage claim to the title - Cody's service as Marshall Commander in the GAR gave him a lot of the diplomatic, organizational, and military experience needed to govern a planet like Mandalore

@spacetime1969: This man has led more people at once than anyone on this list.

Anon: Cody should be Mand'alor because it would be unspeakably sexy

@cha0s-cat: Cody has experience with negotiating from accompanying Obi-Wan, he leads a massive amount of his brothers already. Can recognize when there is a need for negotiations vs a need for violence. This would balance out the majority of the two factions (pacifists/traditionalists) excluding the extremists on either end. And with the amount of chaos that he has to deal with when it comes to Obi-Wan and Anakin, this would probably be relaxing.

@skykind: - Has resisted facism and its attendant police/military state at great personal risk (Bad Batch 2.3), which is apparently necessary to successfully govern Mandalore so long as Death Watch is fully armed and also backed by someone more cunning than their usual leadership (Clone Wars 5.15). - Possesses exceptional leadership and organizational ability from his time as one of the highest-ranked Clone officers of the GAR. The Clone Wars and Bad Batch narratives furthermore present him as Obi-Wan’s peer, so he should be interpreted as equally skilled, wise, kind, and unhinged-in-battle as Obi-Wan. Jury’s out on the sarcasm. - Turns to diplomacy before fighting (Bad Batch 2.3). - Has caught a Jedi’s lightsaber mid-battle at least two times (Clone Wars 1.20 and Revenge of the Sith). This is a very useful skill to have as the prospective or current leader of people who keep chucking the darksaber about. - Has returned a lightsaber to a Jedi at least two times. This is a crucial skill to have as the prospective or current leader of people who should stop selecting said leader via darksaber acquisition.

[w31rd0-art1st]

Ghost(oc) and the rest of the command batch(plus their adopted captains) as cadets.

Ghost: Kote, why do you have two soaking wet cadets..?

Kote, who is also soaking wet, holding both Keeli's and Rex's hands: they fell in the ocean.

Ghost: and you're soaked because..?

Kote: I jumped in to the save them.

Ghost: I see.

Ghost, picking up both Keeli and Rex: you poor things, don't worry I'll get you all dried off and warmed up.

Kote: what about me..?

Ghost: there's towels in the 'fresher.

Kote: ...

Wolffe: ...what just happened?

Fox: he, he just left Kote to get his own towel-

Bly: oh my stars... we've been replaced!

Gree: Kote! What have you done?!

Kote: i-i don't know-

Bacara: you should've just let them drown!

Rex, holding Keeli's hand in the middle of the night: Ori'vod, Keeli threw up..

Ghost, sitting up in bed: okay. I'll be there here in a minute.

Alpha-17: ...Ghost, what do you have?

Ghost, who has Rex on his back and is holding Keeli in one arm and a drink in the other: a nutri-smoothie.

Literally all the CCs+CTs (minus Ghost) fighting over something stupid in the barracks.

Ghost: ...

Ghost: SHUT THE KARK UP OR I SWEAR TO GOD

Kote: ...

Wolffe: oh no...

Rex: ... We're dead.

Bacara: I know I don't show it but I love you all.

Ghost, walking back into the barracks: how've my wonderful, strong, brave Kih'vode been while I was doing my stealth training?

Fox: we've been gre-

Ghost: I wasn't talking to you.

Rex & Keeli in unison: Ori'vod!

Ghost: Rex'ika! Keel'ika! My sweet Kih'vode, I missed you!

Fox: ...

Fox: this is your fault.

Kote: I know.

Fox: I used to be his 'precious Kih'vod'...

Kote: I know, Fox.

Fox: but you just had to ruin it.

Kote: (sigh) ...I know.

Jango: uhh, what's going on...?

Ghost, standing completely unfazed as Wolffe bites his right arm and Fox bites his left leg to the point they're drawing blood, Bacara is desperately trying to push Ghost over with the help of Gree, and Cody, Rex, Keeli, and Bly watch from the side.

Alpha-17: training.

Jango: uh-huh..

Alpha-17: don't worry, Ghost is fine.

Jango: why's he just standing like that?

Alpha-17: he's reached the stage where he's questioning the point of life. We're just clones that were made for one purpose and one purpose only. We're made to fight and eventually die, that's all we're good for.

Jango: ...

Alpha-17: don't worry it's normal. He'll get over it in a few days... Probably.

Jango: what?

Alpha-17: nothing.

Ghost, face planting on the floor: ughhhhhh

Kote: you good?

Ghost: nooooo

Wolffe: okay..

Rex, pulling over a blanket and pillow before flopping beside Ghost: cuddle time.

Keeli, joining in with his own pillow and blanket: cuddle time.

Bly: you heard them, cuddle time.

Ghost, muffled by the fact he is still face down on the floor: ... thank you.

Gree: and then-

Ghost: what are you talking about?

Gree: AHHHHHHH

kote: HOLY KARK!

Wolffe: WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!??

Ghost, grinning: you'll never know.

Wolffe: AHHHHHHHH

Please let me know if you'd like more :3

Btw sorry if any characters seem out of character, I don't know much about Gree/Bacara specifically.

[feybarn]

And I return with some ghost Obi. Thanks @queenaelinwildfire!

Spinning off of Sparky, ghost Obi haunting Jango Ooo bonus points if it’s smol obi wan

When the boy first appeared, Jango had been sure it’d been the spice. Hallucinations were hardly new and the young boy who stared at him with frightened eyes was hardly the strangest thing he saw. In fact, the boy who whispered warnings about when the slavers were coming, and told him that Neeva—the young togruta girl a few slaves down—was dying, and told him stories about men in white armor who died forgotten heroes, was perhaps the kindest hallucination that Jango experienced.

Except the boy didn’t go away. Not when Jango killed the slavers. Not when Jango detoxed. Not when Jango left behind all but the scars of his time with the slavers.

Jango hadn’t quite believed in ghosts before, but he had no other explanation for the boy that followed him unerringly from the slavers’ ship to Concord Dawn to the ugly, worn down ship he eventually acquired.

“You have a reason for haunting me, kid?” he asked.

The boy frowned. His hand came to his neck where a collar rested.

Jango had tried not to think about that particular accessory too much.

“I don’t know,” the boy admitted. “I… I don’t remember how I got here.”

Jango was going to guess that the answer included ‘dying’. “You need help moving on?” Jango asked. Though he had no idea how he would help some ghost move on. Jaster would have, though.

Jango blocked out the thought.

“I don’t know,” the boy admitted. “I don’t think so. I think I’m here for a reason.”

Great. A reason. That explained so much. “What’s your name?”

The boy’s brow furrowed. “I… I don’t know.” The boy sounded alarmed, as though he’d just realized he didn’t have a name.

Well, there went trying to track down where the boy had come from. All Jango had to go on was the rough mining clothes the boy was wearing, several sizes too large for him, and the collar around his neck.

Mining colonies weren’t exactly sparse in this galaxy. Even narrowing it down to mining colonies that used slavery didn’t help.

The Republic might claim that slavery was outlawed, but that didn’t mean much, Jango had discovered.

“Do you have a name you want me to call you?” Jango asked, because while Jango could keep calling him ‘the boy’ it seemed…

Wrong.

If Myles were here, Myles would have already named the kid. It’d probably have been something meaningful and well thought out.

If Silas were here, he’d have helped the kid come up with a name on his own. He’d have turned it into a game, until the kid didn’t even remember he was upset.

If Jaster were here…

Jango tried not to think about what Jaster would have done.

The boy frowned and Jango could tell he was thinking. “Obi,” the boy said finally. “I think… I think I like Obi.” 

“Obi,” Jango agreed. He wondered if it was the kid’s actual name, hidden in the depths of his mind. “You going to keep following me around?”

Obi tilted his head. “I think so. I don’t want you to be alone.” Obi’s gaze was piercing. “Are you going to go home?” he asked. “Now that you’re free?”

Jango swallowed. “I don’t have a home to go to.”

Obi’s eyes echoed with a terrible sadness. “You’re afraid.”

Jango closed his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said, words coming out short. 

“Sometimes I dream I can’t go home either,” Obi whispered. “In the dream, I want the desert sands to strip me to my bones.”

Jango flinched, but added the piece of information to the possibility of where Obi had come from. Though, there were a spare few mining colonies on desert planets. The combination was rarely conducive to the most valuable of mining operations.

“It’s not the same kid.”

Obi stared at him. “I think they’d want you to come back.” His hand rubbed at the metal collar around his neck again. “Wherever home is. They… they probably miss you.”

Jango scoffed. He’d gotten so many of their people killed, the ones that remained could hardly want him back. “Not likely, kid.”

“In my dreams, they died because of me,” Obi whispered.

Apparently being a ghost made the kid telepathic. Jango was not a fan. But it was… it was a kid, a dead kid. Jango didn’t have the heart to try to get rid of him, unless it was to bring him home.

“Just a dream, kid.”

Obi looked away. “What if it’s not? Do… do we never get to go home?”

Jango sighed. “Come on, let me teach you how to navigate in and out of hyperspace.” He’d noticed that the kid looked like he enjoyed watching Jango in the cockpit. Sure, the kid would never need the skills himself, being dead and all, but Jango didn’t know what else to do with the dead kid that was stuck with Jango.

Obi nodded, following Jango back to the cockpit. It was the end of the conversation.

Or it should have been. 

The question haunted Jango as the months passed. Would he ever get to go home? With the sins that weighed so heavy on his shoulders? It’d been years. Years as a slave and now nearly a year free.

He looked at Obi, who hadn’t aged since the day he’d found Jango in the hull of the slave ship. Just a kid. Always a kid. A dead kid that couldn’t go home. Whose closest thing to home was Jango and Jango’s ship.

Jango had been determined not to think of it, of what he’d lost, of what was gone, of what he could never allow himself to have again.

Do we never get to go home?

Was that why the kid was stuck as a ghost? Had he told himself he was never allowed to go home? Had he trapped himself in some sort of eternal punishment.

Jango had never heard of it happening before, but he wasn’t a scholar, and this universe was full of things stranger than Jango could believe.

Do we never get to go home?

Was that why the kid had found him? Because he saw Jango’s punishment as his own?

Because this life Jango lived now, constantly chasing the next bounty, with nothing but a ghost at his side… was it a life? Was Jango just as much a ghost as the dead kid that haunted him.

“Where are we going next?” Obi asked when the next hunt finished.

Jango stared at the controls on the cockpit’s dashboard.

Do we never get to go home?

Did he? 

The kid needed a home. Jango… Jango couldn’t give him the one he’d been taken from. But…

“Concord Dawn,” he said.

“Where’s that?” Obi asked. “Is there a hunt there?”

Jango shook his head. “No, kid. We’re going home.”

[blackkatmagic]

Hey, I've been rereading the newest chapter of "wild wings" like three times and every time is better than the last. I was so excited for Jaster and his introduction did not disappoint. He is one of the characters you have starring in multiple other fics and he and the other examples like Granta always feel like their own distinct person. How do you manage that? I imagine it to be difficult to first find the "voice" of a character and then to have to scramble it all up again for the next fic. Do you have like the "core" of a character that always is the same and then build up the different circumstances of a world/scenario around it or do you treat them like a new character that you have to get to know every time?

And to get to another fic with Jaster in it: in "time in the hourless houses" how did you combine dreams and the force? In my experience writing dreams is complicated because you have to hit the sweet spot of "something to do with the real life of that character but not a bit by bit retelling" and then there is the force and the message it wanted to give Xanatos.

Anyways you do both of these things so good! Thank you for your writing!

(Also another thing: the most fun I ever had reading a fanfiction is with "time in the hourless houses". First with the "oh no Jaster caught Myles and Xanatos betraying him" bit and then with the "Xanatos seducing Jaster" bit. The second part had me giggling SO hard, I was acting it out like a play in my room, it was so fun. Thank you for that too!)

Re: a character's voice, I tend to think of characters in terms of core motivations that shape their voice more than one interpretation I have to redo for each fic. Using the example of Jaster, in wild wings he's still an idealist, still devoted to the idea of reform, but he's very young in that fic. He's fresh off his exile from Concord Dawn, from his disillusionment with the Journeyman Protectors, so all of those ideals are twisted up by a sense of betrayal aimed at the world. Jaster there is an idealist who's having to grapple with the fact that the world won't conform to his ideas unless he makes it, and changes society all around him. But he's still raw and angry and has no idea how, so it makes him reckless and ruthless. He's still very much the same character, but the different circumstances clash with the core of his character, and he ends up acting differently because of it.

In contrast, Jaster in hourless houses knows that he can change society by sheer force of personality and by decisive action, but he's tipped too far over onto the other side, and it's turned him into a dictator. His anger at what happened with Jango and to the clones feeds his sense of moral outrage, the same outrage that made him murder a man on Concord Dawn for being corrupt, but this time his circumstances give him so much power that that anger ends up manifesting as iron-fisted control of everything around him. Still the same character, but as long as you can pinpoint the driving force behind his character, you can see how events change how that force presents. It's honestly one of my favorite things about fandom, and why I write so many AUs - you drop the blorbo into different situations, and as long as you know why they do things, you can predict what they're going to do.

Re: the dream sequences in hourless houses...hm. I think the main thing is that you have to balance the indistinctness of most dreams with the goal of the scene/the "Force" in that scene. Character mindset comes into play, too - Xanatos dreams of long, endless hallways because he's confused and directionless at the start of the fic, and then when he meets Feemor again and starts to remember how much he wanted to be a Jedi, the next places he dreams of are the Archives and the gardens in the Temple, reminding him of moments he loved about those places. It's all pushing him towards a realization and the goal of the narrative. You just have to use that as what you're writing towards, while changing the atmosphere a little from the "real life" sorts of scenes.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“Brothers in the Making” pt.4

Command Squad x Reader

The new training was brutal.

You made good on your warning.

Every morning started with live-fire simulations — no safeties. No shortcuts. Hand-to-hand drills until they couldn’t lift their arms. Obstacle courses under pelting rain and wind so strong it knocked them off balance. You pushed them until they bled, and then made them do it again.

And they got better.

Fox stopped hesitating.

Bacara stopped grinning.

Wolffe started thinking before acting.

Cody led with silence and strength.

Rex? Rex was starting to look like a leader.

You saw it in the way the others followed him when things got hard.

But even as your cadets got sharper, meaner, closer — something shifted outside your control.

Kamino got crowded.

You noticed it in the hangars first. Rough-looking men and women in mismatched armor, chewing on ration sticks and watching the cadets like predators sizing up meat.

Bounty hunters.

The Kaminoans had started bringing them in — not for your cadets, but for the rank-and-file troopers.

Cheap, nasty freelancers. People who'd kill for credits and leak secrets for less.

You weren’t the only one who noticed.

You slammed your tray down in the mess beside Jango, Kal Skirata, and Walon Vau.

Skirata didn’t even look up from sharpening his blade. “So. You see them too.”

“They stink like trouble,” you muttered.

Jango grunted. “Kaminoans don’t care. They want results. Faster, cheaper.”

“They’re not Mandalorian,” Vau said coldly. “No honor. No code. Just teeth.”

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed. “They’re whispering to the clones. Getting too friendly.”

“Probably scoping them out,” Kal muttered. “Seeing who’s soft. Who’ll break first.”

Jango’s voice was low and lethal. “If one of them talks — if any of them breathes a word to the Separatists—”

“We're done,” you finished for him.

Silence settled over the table like a weight.

You glanced around the mess. One of the hunters was laughing with a group of standard cadets, tossing them pieces of gear like candy. Testing their limits. Grooming.

Your blood boiled.

“They’re not going near my boys,” you said quietly.

Kal looked over, sharp-eyed. “You planning something?”

“I’m planning to watch,” you replied. “And if they so much as look at my cadets sideways—”

“You’ll gut them,” Vau said. “Good.”

That night, as the storm beat against the training dome, you walked past the dorms. The lights were dim, but you could hear muffled voices inside.

“—you really think we’re ready?”

“Doesn’t matter. Buir thinks we are.”

“Yeah but… what if those bounty hunters—”

You stopped outside the door. Knocked once.

The room went dead quiet.

You stepped in.

The cadets snapped to attention.

You gave them a look. “You worried about the new visitors?”

They didn’t answer.

Rex stepped forward. “We don’t trust them.”

“Good,” you said. “Neither do I.”

They relaxed — just slightly.

“You,” you added, “have one advantage those other clones don’t.”

“What’s that?” Bacara asked.

You looked each of them in the eye.

“You know who you are. You know who you trust. You know what you’re fighting for.”

Fox swallowed. “And the others?”

“They’ll learn,” you said. “Or they’ll fall.”

A long silence followed.

Then Cody said quietly, “We won’t let them touch the brothers.”

You gave a small, proud nod. “That’s what makes you more than soldiers.”

You looked to each of them in turn.

“You’re protectors.”

———

The first hit came during evening drills.

You weren’t there. You’d been pulled into a debrief with Jango and the Kaminoan Prime. That’s why it happened. Because you weren’t watching.

Because they were.

The bounty hunters had been circling the younger cadets all week. The ones just starting to taste their own strength — just old enough to be cocky, not old enough to know when to shut up.

The hunters pushed them harder than protocol allowed. Made them spar past exhaustion. Made them fight dirty. Gave them real knives instead of training ones.

Neyo ended up with a dislocated shoulder.

Gree broke two ribs.

Bly passed out from dehydration.

And the worst?

Thorn.

One of the bounty hunters slammed him face-first into the training deck.

Hard enough to split his forehead open and leave him unconscious for thirty terrifying seconds.

By the time you arrived, Thorn was being carried out by two med droids, blood streaking down his temple, barely coherent.

The bounty hunter just stood there, arms folded, like nothing had happened.

You didn’t say a word.

You decked him.

One punch — a sharp right hook to the jaw. Dropped him cold.

Kal held you back before you could go in for another.

“You’re done,” you snarled at the Kaminoans who came running. “Get these kriffing animals off my training floor.”

“We were merely increasing the resilience of the standard units,” one of the white-robed scientists said coolly.

You stepped toward her.

“You try to touch any of mine,” you growled, “and you’ll see just how resilient I am.”

———

Later that night, the cadets met in the shadows of the observation deck. Not just your five — all of them.

Cody. Rex. Bacara. Fox. Wolffe.

Neyo. Keeli. Gree. Thorn. Stone. Bly.

Monk. Doom. Appo. Ponds.

Even a few of the younger ones — still waiting to earn names.

They were tense. Quiet. Watching the door. Waiting.

Keeli spoke first. “They’ll come back.”

Fox crossed his arms. “Then we hit them first.”

“Without Buir?” Rex asked, wary.

“She can’t be everywhere,” Wolffe muttered.

Monk frowned. “This isn’t a sim. These guys aren’t playing.”

Neyo leaned against the wall. “Neither are we.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Rain drummed against the glass overhead.

Finally, Gree spoke. “We don’t have to fight them.”

They all turned.

“We just have to outsmart them.”

They waited for their moment.

It came two days later. A late-night combat session with three of the bounty hunters, deep in one of the isolated auxiliary domes. No cams. No observers. Just a handful of cadets, and three heavily armed mercs ready to “teach them a lesson.”

They never saw it coming.

Rex faked an injury — stumbled, cried out, fell to one knee.

Bly drew the hunter in close, under the guise of helping him.

Gree triggered the power outage.

Fox, Neyo, and Bacara moved in from the shadows like ghosts.

Monk and Doom stole their gear.

Keeli hit them with a stun baton he “borrowed” from the supply closet.

By the time the lights came back on, the bounty hunters were zip-tied to the floor, unconscious or groaning, surrounded by sixteen bruised, grinning cadets.

They didn’t tell the Kaminoans what happened.

Neither did the hunters.

The next day, those bounty trainers were gone.

You knew something had happened. Jango did too.

You pulled Rex aside, arms crossed. “We didn’t do anything.”

“I didn’t ask,” you said.

He stood a little straighter. “Then I won’t tell.”

You smiled.

For a second, you almost said it.

Almost.

But not yet.

Instead, you gave him a nod.

“Well done, kid.”

———

Tipoca City was never supposed to feel like a warzone.

But that night — under blacked-out skies and howling wind — the storm broke inside the walls.

It started with Jango leaving.

He met you, Kal Skirata, and Walon Vau on the upper platform, rain hammering down in waves, cloak rippling behind him.

“Got called offworld,” he said without preamble. “Client I can’t ignore.”

You frowned. “Problem?”

He glanced at the Kaminoan tower, where sterile lights still glowed behind long windows.

“Yeah. Ten of those kriffing bounty scum are still here. Kaminoans won’t remove them.”

Kal spat on the ground. “Let me take care of it.”

“You, Vau, and her,” Jango said, nodding to you. “Handle it before I get back.”

He walked off without waiting for a reply.

The next few hours passed too quietly.

You and Kal did recon.

Vau slipped through maintenance corridors.

Then — the lights flickered.

The main comms cut out.

And every blast door in Tipoca City slammed shut.

———

In the Mess hall Neyo was mid-bite into a ration bar when it happened.

The lights dimmed. The far wall sparked. The room went deathly silent.

There were thirty cadets inside — the full command unit. And five Republic Commando cadets, seated near the back. All in training blacks, all unarmed.

Then the doors slid open.

Ten bounty hunters walked in.

Wearing full armor. Fully armed.

The first one tossed a stun grenade across the room.

The cadets scrambled — diving behind tables, flipping trays, shielding younger brothers.

A loud, metallic slam.

The doors locked again.

But this time, from outside.

A voice crackled over the mess intercom.

“Don’t worry, boys,” you said, voice steady, cold. “We’re here.”

One by one, the lights above the bounty hunters started popping.

Out of the shadows stepped you, Kal Skirata, and Walon Vau.

Three Mandalorians. Blasters drawn. Knives sheathed. No fear.

“Let’s clean up our mess,” Vau muttered.

The fight wasn’t clean.

It was fast. Ugly. Vicious.

You moved first — disarmed the closest hunter with a twist of your wrist and drove your elbow into his throat.

Kal went for the one reaching toward the Commando cadets, snapped his knee and disarmed him with a headbutt.

Vau took two down in five seconds. Bone-snapping, brutal.

The cadets rallied. Neyo and Bacara flanked the room, herding the younger ones behind upended tables. Rex shoved Keeli out of harm’s way and grabbed a downed shock baton.

Thorn cracked a chair over a hunter’s back.

Bly and Gree tag-teamed one into unconsciousness with nothing but boots and fists.

But then—

One of them grabbed Cody.

Knife to his throat.

Your blood ran cold.

“No one move,” the hunter snarled, voice wild. “Open the door. Now.”

You stepped forward slowly, hands up, helmet off.

“Let him go,” you said, voice low.

“Back off!” he yelled. “I’ll do it!”

Then — he started cutting.

Cody didn’t scream. Didn’t cry out.

Just clenched his jaw as blood ran down his brow and over his eye.

You saw red.

You lunged.

One shot — straight through the hunter’s shoulder — and he dropped the blade.

Before he hit the ground, you were there, catching Cody as he fell.

He blinked up at you, blood running down his face, trembling.

You cupped the back of his head gently, voice soft but steady. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

Kal secured the last hunter. Vau stood guard at the door. The mess was a wreck of overturned tables, scorch marks, and groaning mercenaries.

You looked down at Cody.

The top of his brow and temple was sliced deep. Ugly.

He winced as you cleaned it.

“That’s going to scar,” you said quietly.

Cody met your gaze — steady now, strong, even through the pain.

“I don’t care.”

You smiled faintly.

“Good. You earned it.”

The mess hall had long since fallen silent.

The medics came and went. The unconscious bounty hunters had been dragged off to confinement cells. The lights flickered gently above, casting a soft blue hue over the now-empty space.

The only ones left were you and your cadets.

Twenty-three young men. Battle-scarred, bloodied, tired.

And very, very proud.

You sat on a table, legs swinging, helmet in your lap. A few bruises blooming on your jaw, a cut on your knuckle — nothing you hadn’t dealt with before. Nothing you wouldn’t do again in a heartbeat for them.

They lingered near you, some sitting, some leaning against overturned chairs, some standing silently — waiting for you to speak.

You looked at each one of them.

Wolffe, arms crossed but still wincing slightly from a bruise on his side.

Rex, perched beside Bly, both quiet but alert.

Fox, pacing a little like he still had adrenaline to burn.

Bacara and Neyo flanking the younger cadets instinctively.

Keeli, Gree, Doom, Thorn, Monk, Appo — all watching you.

Cody, sitting close by, with fresh stitches across his brow. His scar. His mark.

You let the silence hang a little longer, then finally exhaled and said, “You did well.”

They didn’t respond — not right away — but you could see the pride simmering behind their eyes.

You stood and walked slowly in front of them, glancing from face to face.

“You’ve trained hard for months. You’ve pushed yourselves, pushed each other. But today…” You paused. “Today was something different.”

They listened closely, the weight of your words pulling them in.

“You were outnumbered. Unarmed. Surprised.” Your voice softened. “But you didn’t break. You protected each other. You adapted. You fought smart. And you stood your ground.”

Your gaze swept across the room again, and this time, there was no commander in your expression — only pride. And something close to love.

“You showed courage. And resilience. And heart.”

You walked back toward Cody, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder.

“If this is the future of the Republic Army…” you smiled faintly, “then the galaxy’s in better hands than it knows.”

You looked at all of them again.

“I’m proud of you. Every single one of you.”

For a moment, the room was silent again.

Then a quiet voice piped up from behind Rex.

“Does this mean we get to sleep in tomorrow?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not a chance.”

Laughter broke through the tension — real, loud, echoing off the walls.

Fox clapped Rex on the back.

Cody leaned lightly against you and didn’t say a word — he didn’t have to.

You stayed there a while longer, sitting with them, listening to the soft hum of rain against the dome. For now, there was no war. No Kaminoans. No Jedi.

Just your boys. Just your family.

And in the stillness after the storm, it was enough.

—————

*Time Skip*

The storm had been relentless for days — even by Kamino standards.

But today, there was something different in the air. The kind of stillness that only came before things broke apart.

You felt it the second the long corridor doors opened.

You were walking back from the firing range, datapad in one hand, helmet under your arm — drenched from the rain, mud on your boots, blaster at your hip.

And that’s when you saw him.

Tall, cloaked in damp robes, ginger hair swept back, beard trimmed neatly — Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He stood beside the Kaminoan administrator, Taun We, as she gestured down the corridor, her voice echoing in that soft, ethereal way.

You blinked. “Well, well.”

Obi-Wan turned at the sound of your voice, brow arching in surprise.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, smirking lightly.

“Likewise,” Kenobi said, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “Though I should’ve known—where there’s chaos, you’re never far behind.”

You walked up to him, nodding politely to Taun We, who dipped her head and continued speaking about clone maturation cycles.

“Nice robes,” you said. “Still playing Jedi or are you finally moonlighting as a diplomat?”

“Depends on the day,” he quipped. “And you? Still collecting foundlings?”

That made you pause.

You glanced at the clone cadets moving through the hall up ahead — your boys. Young, serious, sharp-eyed. Already starting to look like soldiers.

“They’re not foundlings anymore,” you said, quieter now. “They never were.”

Kenobi’s smile faded slightly. “They’re… the clones?”

You nodded. “Each one.”

“And you’ve been… training them?”

You looked back at him. “Raising them.”

That gave him pause.

He walked a few paces in silence before saying, “And what do you think of them?”

You smiled to yourself. “Braver than most warriors I’ve met. Fiercer than any squad I’ve served with. Smarter than they get credit for. Loyal to a fault.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softened. “They’re children.”

“Not anymore,” you said. “They don’t get the chance to be.”

He studied you a long moment. “They trust you.”

“I’d die for them,” you said simply. “They know that.”

He nodded slowly, then leaned in, voice lower. “I need to ask you something.”

You met his eyes.

“A man named Jango Fett,” he said. “He’s been identified as the clone template. The Kaminoans say he was recruited by a Jedi. But no Jedi I know would authorize a clone army in secret.”

You held his gaze. “Jango’s a good man.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

You exhaled. “He’s… complicated. He believes in strength. In legacy. In survival. He was proud to be chosen.”

Kenobi tilted his head. “And now?”

You looked down the corridor, where the rain slashed against the long window.

“Now?” you said. “He’s been taking jobs that… don’t sit right with me. His clients are powerful. Dangerous.”

Obi-Wan folded his arms. “Separatists?”

You didn’t answer.

Instead, you said, “Jango’s alone in what he’s made. But not in the burden. He just won’t let anyone carry it with him.”

Obi-Wan looked at you, long and careful. “And if he’s working for Dooku?”

“Then I’ll stop him,” you said. Quiet. Unshakable. “Even if it breaks everything.”

There was silence between you for a moment. Only the soft hum of the lights and the sound of rain.

Then Kenobi said, “We may all be asked to choose sides soon.”

You gave him a faint smile. “I already did.”

And with that, you turned and walked down the corridor — toward the cadets. Toward your boys. Toward the storm you could feel coming.

————

The hangar was alive with the sound of marching boots and humming gunships. The Kaminoan platforms gleamed under the harsh light of early morning, and the storm above was quieter than usual — almost like Kamino itself was holding its breath.

You stood near the gunships with your helmet tucked under your arm, the rain catching in your hair, your armor polished but worn. This was it.

Your boys — your commanders and captains — were suiting up, double-checking blasters, loading onto transports in units of ten, fifty, a hundred. The moment they’d been bred for was finally here.

And you hated every second of it.

“Buir!”

You turned as Cody jogged up to you, followed quickly by Fox, Rex, Wolffe, Bacara, Bly, Gree, Keeli, Doom, Appo, Thorn, Neyo, Monk, Stone, Ponds — all of them. Every one of them now bearing their names. Every one of them about to step into a galaxy on fire.

“You’re not coming with us?” Rex asked, brow furrowed beneath his helmet.

“No,” you said softly. “Not this time.”

They exchanged looks. Several stepped closer.

“Why?” Wolffe asked.

You smiled faintly. “Because I’ve fulfilled my contract. My time here is done.”

“But we still need you,” Bly said. “You’re our—”

“I’m your buir,” you interrupted, voice firm. “And that means knowing when to let you stand on your own.”

They fell quiet.

You stepped forward and looked at each one of them — your gaze lingering on every face you had once taught to punch, to shoot, to think, to feel. They were men now. Soldiers. Leaders.

And still, in your heart, they were the boys who once snuck into your quarters late at night, scared of their own future.

“You’re ready,” you told them. “I’ve seen it. You’ve trained for this. Bled for this. Earned this. You are commanders and captains of the Grand Army of the Republic. You are the best this galaxy will ever see.”

Cody stepped forward, his voice tight. “Where will you go?”

You looked up at the storm.

“Where I’m needed.”

A beat passed.

“Don’t think for a second I won’t be watching,” you said, flicking your commlink. “I’ll be on a secure line the whole time. Monitoring every channel, every order. I’ll know the second you misbehave.”

That drew a few smiles. Even a quiet chuckle from Thorn.

Fox stepped forward, standing at attention. “Permission to hug the buir?”

You rolled your eyes, but opened your arms anyway.

They came in like a wave.

Armor scraped armor as they all stepped in — clumsy and loud and warm, a heap of brothers trying to act tough but holding on just long enough to not feel like kids again.

You held them all.

And then, like true soldiers, they pulled back — each nodding once before heading to their ships. Helmets on. Rifles in hand.

Cody was the last to go. He looked back at you as the ramp began to rise.

“Stay safe,” he said.

You gave a small nod.

“We’ll make you proud.”

“You already did.”

Then the gunships roared, rising one by one into the sky, and disappeared into the storm.

And you were left on the platform, alone.

But not really.

Because your voice was already tuned into their frequencies, your eyes scanning the holo feeds.

And your heart — your heart went with them.

————

She never returned to Kamino.

The rain still haunted her dreams sometimes, the echo of thunder over steel platforms, the scent of blaster oil and sea salt clinging to her skin. But when she left, she left for good.

The cadets she had raised — the ones who had once looked to her like a sister, a mentor, a buir — were no longer wide-eyed boys in numbered armor.

They were commanders now. Captains. Leaders of men.

And the war made them legends.

From the shadows of Coruscant to the deserts of Ryloth, from Umbara’s twisted jungles to the burning fields of Saleucami — she watched. She listened. She followed every mission report she could intercept, every coded message she wasn’t supposed to hear.

She couldn’t be with them. But she knew where they were. Every. Single. Day.

Bacara led brutal campaigns on Mygeeto.

Fox walked a knife’s edge keeping peace in the heart of chaos on Coruscant.

Cody fought with unwavering precision at Kenobi’s side.

Wolffe’s transmissions grew fewer, rougher. He was changing — harder, colder.

Rex’s loyalty to his General turned to quiet defiance. She recognized it in his voice. She’d taught him to think for himself.

Keeli, Thorn, Gree, Ponds, Neyo, Doom, Bly, Stone, Monk, Appo… all of them. She tracked them, stored every piece of data, every victory, every loss. Not as a commander. Not as a strategist.

As their buir.

She moved from system to system — never settling. Always watching. A ghost in the shadows of the war she helped raise. Never interfering. Just there.

But she knew.

She knew when Rex's tone cracked after Umbara.

She knew when Cody stopped speaking on open comms.

She knew when Pond’s name was pulled from a casualty list, but no one would say what happened.

She knew when Thorn’s file was locked behind High Council access.

And one by one, her boys began to fall silent.

Not dead. Not gone.

Just… lost.

To the war. To the darkness creeping into the cracks.

She sat in silence some nights, the old helmet resting beside her. Their names etched into the inside — 23 in total.

They weren’t clones to her. They were sons. Brothers. The best of the best.

She had given them names.

But the galaxy had given them numbers again.

So she remembered.

She remembered who they were before the armor, before the orders, before the war took their laughter and turned it into steel.

She remembered their first sparring matches. Their mess hall brawls. Their ridiculous, stupid banter.

She remembered Fox making them salute her.

She remembered Wolffe biting her hand like a brat and earning his name.

She remembered all of it.

Because someone had to.

Because one day, when the war ended — if any of them were left — she would find them.

And she would say the names again.

Out loud.

And remind them of who they really were.

——————

Previous Chapter

[rendomski]

The Domino Effect

Summary: Shaak Ti was often tempted to save some clone kids. AU, where she finally goes for it. And the ties of siblinghood run strong among the clones.

An impromptu ficlet, ~1000 words. Enjoy 🙂.

Force acts in mysterious ways, thinks Shaak Ti when she walks by the cadet barracks late in their night cycle and overhears the argument. Apparently, someone who doesn’t want to be called Hevy decided to go AWOL, and 99 is trying to persuade him otherwise.

Supervising kids that are raised with a sole purpose—to fight and die for the Republic—is a morally challenging task. Shaak has been tempted multiple times just to take on board as many kids as she can and whisk them far from this madness. Something tips the scales, finally, as she steps into the vast barracks and speaks, “So, you want to get away, cadet?”

They both freeze in shock.

“No, General, sir. Hevy wasn’t going to—” 99 begins, but not-Hevy interrupts him, staring with a desperate defiance.

“Yes, sir. I was planning to go AWOL.”

Shaak stares him back, but the kid, almost a grown-up—or what goes as grown-up nowadays, the cadets are shipped away even at a younger age than at the beginning of the war—does not budge.

“Alright,” says Shaak. “Is this your stuff? Take it and let’s go to my ship.”

“Sir?”

“You want to go AWOL? I can take you off-world on my ship. No one would dare search for you there.”

Not-Hevy grabs the bag with whatever he can claim as his own, but then hesitates.

“Sir, with your permission. My brother, CT-4040. Trainer Bric has it against him. He would do anything so that CT-4040 doesn’t pass his final test.” His eyes go wider as it dawns upon him how implausible the chance Shaak is offering him and how close he might be to failure by asking even more of her. He finishes nonetheless. “May I… may you take him away, too?”

Shaak’s confidence that she is doing the right thing blooms.

“Yes. You may take your brother with you.”

***

“Sir?”

“Yes, CT-4040?”

“Cutup, sir. My name is Cutup,” he glances at CT-782, who is stubbornly not Hevy. “Since tonight. So… Droidbait. CT-782, we’re not leaving him behind, like we did during the simulation, do we?”

Leaving behind during the simulation, this sounds very familiar. “Cadets, what squad are you from?” Shaak asks and nods upon the name, knowing already what comes. “I understand. Go for your brother, and bring Fives and CT-1409 along, too.”

***

“99, I am not leaving without you. We all owe you.”

The aged clone shakes his head, “No, Hevy. You go with the General. As for me, there are a few other troubled brothers that need my support here.”

Of course, five pairs of near-identical eyes stare at Shaak hopefully at the words. “General? You have some more space on your ship, don’t you, sir?”

She sighs. “Just be quiet. It is getting serious, so from now on, let's make it a stealth mission.”

“You've heard the General. It is a stealth mission.”

Exasperated groans, “We're standing right here, Echo,” follow.

***

“Sir?” Fives tugs at her sleeve with suspicious shyness. “It may sound crazy, but… Well, there is a girl here.”

“Oh, not again!”

“Don’t listen to him, General. He is making it all up. He has never met a girl in his life.”

“Well, I did! I keep telling you, and you idiots, refuse to believe me!” Fives snaps. “Sir, there is a girl here, working in the hospital. I met her. I talked to her.”

***

There is a girl, indeed. Experimental Medical Researcher 003, EMR-003 for short, whom Shaak has never met and never seen in any official documents. Moreso, she has never even heard of the Jango female clone program. And this gets extremely suspicious now. Her hunting instincts and the Force both sing to her that she is on the trail of something bigger.

“I am not the only one here, sir. There is one more girl, at least. She is different, but she is also one of us. I can get her out of the lab, I know the way.”

***

Another girl is different, for sure. Shaak can't grasp what is different about this kid—a five-year-old cadet at the most. Not the blond hair, there is a number of blond cadets around. There is something else, something elusive.

“Oh, you want to take us all off-world?” Omega, not EMR-something, notes Shaak, looks at the gang of clones with contagious joy and amazement. Cutup winks at her, and she waves back at him enthusiastically. “We must take my brothers with us!”

“We are all your brothers,” says no-longer-CT-1409-but-still-rather-reluctant Echo serenely.

“I know! But those are… They are my little brothers! And,” she saddens, her childish voice dropping almost to a whisper. “There are only four of them left.”

Shaak sighs. Alright, four more little kids, not a big difference.

***

…they happen to be not quite little kids, and it is finally clear what is different about Omega. The list of questions and problems grows ever longer. Shaak has hunted down and bitten more than she can chew.

She needs to take someone into the partnership in crime—Plo, most likely. And Obi Wan, who found Kamino in the first place, may have some valuable insights…

But first things first. Her navicomputer is still calculating the hyperspace route when a fight erupts in the back of the ship. And Fives is proudly showing EMR-003 around the ship, despite being here for the first time himself. Half of his explanations are totally wrong. Lanky, bespectacled cadet who has confidently strapped himself in the copilot seat and already asked Shaak three questions in a row, turns around and begins to correct him. Someone is asking loudly over the clamour whether her Jedi ship is equipped with guns.

Only 99 gazes silently into the starry void, mesmerised. Looking in his wizened face, Shaak Ti realises that this is his first time in space, despite his long and respectable age of thirteen.

[dominos-pizza-squad]

"You're going to have to."

I don't usually write meta on account of doing my best to avoid Fandom Drama like the plague and even a hint of Star Wars meta is like a siren call to Drama but. I have Thoughts about this scene and now I'm going to share them and if you're here for anti-Mace Windu thoughts this is not the post for you my friend.

Every time I see meta or reference to this scene it's used as more 'proof' that Windu was totally the worst and we shouldn't feel at all bad about him being maimed and thrown to his death which sure is a take, and on the surface I can understand why. When you don't bother to look more into that scene it does come off as Windu being a rude bitch to a child whose dad died in front of him, which is pretty uncool.

But this is a meta post and I am here to look more into this scene. I want to start with the concept of forgiveness, because when I go, I go big. I feel like a lot of the antipathy toward this scene (and by extension toward Windu) come from the fact that again, on a surface-level reading, it looks like Windu is demanding Boba's forgiveness for Jango's death, when we all know that's not how that works. That is, in fact, a concept that to most of us is viscerally offensive- our knee-jerk reaction is something more along the lines of "screw you i resent you more now" than it is "well okay that seems reasonable". Because you can't just demand somebody's forgiveness and expect it to happen. All that is is another wrong against the person you've already wronged. It's pure conceitedness and self-interest.

It's also not what Windu was trying to say to Boba in that scene. Not even remotely, in my opinion, and I'll explain why.

Think about the way the Jedi teach, particularly the way they teach philosophical concepts- they don't simply tell their students what to think, they tell them something and then make them think about themselves. Jedi are always expected to look deeper into a lesson to see what they can get out of it, this is the way Windu's lived his whole life, of course this is the way he speaks to Boba even though Boba's not a Jedi.

It's not exactly a hot take to say that Mace Windu and Boba Fett have very different ways of approaching the world. This is important to remember, though, because it guides the way that Windu interacts with Boba in this scene. When Boba swears he's never going to forgive him, Windu looks him in the eye and says, "Well, you're going to have to." And when he says that he's not saying that as some kind of ultimatum, he's saying that as a statement of fact.

What Windu is really saying to Boba in this scene isn't "forgive me 'cuz i said so". What he's saying is "your father cannot come back, and you will have to find a way to live with that so it doesn't consume you". Because what was Boba saying when he said "I'll never forgive you"? It wasn't just "I hate you", it was "I hate you, and I hate you so much that I don't care who I destroy in the process of destroying you". Sure, he expresses regret for all of the actual human beings that died because of his actions, but he follows it up with an utter refusal to acknowledge that those actions were wrong. What he was saying was "I hate you, and I hate you so much that I don't care who I destroy in the process of destroying you, even if it's myself."

Boba has done some genuinely horrible things by this point. He's put other children's lives at risk. He's crashed a star destroyer and killed who knows how many people. Maybe he didn't shoot the injured clones himself when they went in and took their hostages, but they wouldn't have died there if it weren't for him. He is directly responsible for the death of a man whose only crime was walking through the wrong door at the wrong time. He has charged headfirst down a path of death and destruction that will spread misery everywhere he goes.

And now Windu- who has just lost all of these men, lost Ponds, nearly lost his own life to Boba's actions- is looking down at this twelve-year-old boy, and he doesn't want this for him. He so badly doesn't want this for him, but he cannot make Boba's choices. All he can do is try and tell him "this path you're on is not worth it".

Because that, in my opinion, is what he means when he says "You're going to have to." He's not saying that he's entitled to anything from Boba (because he might have killed Jango in self-defense, but his motives and intentions don't change the fact that his actions hurt Boba), he's saying that Boba has to let go of that hatred before it ruins his life.

Which is exactly what it does! What happens to Boba in the end? He continues alone down his path of hate and misery, until he gets eaten by a sarlacc and enslaved by Tuskens. He had so little, and he loses even that. And it's no one's fault but his own.

But.

But. Finally, so many years after he started down that path, he does what Windu said. Finally, he lets that anger go. Finally, he gets to become what he could have been if he hadn't let himself be consumed by his rage. And that's why I liked The Book of Boba Fett, despite its flaws, because we get to see that change. After forty-odd years of strife, Boba finally gets to be a man at peace. And that's exactly what I think Windu would have wanted.

[enigmatist17]

He remembers the day he was first called Kote.

The pride had swelled in his chest so much he smiled, a real smile as vod alike hugged him after they were allowed to rest after a brutal day of training. Sure, his nose was broken and still bloodied, but the adrenaline of being named was enough to drown out the pain as he and his brothers celebrated with stolen rations and a drink of unspoken origin.

Kote remembers the day his name changes to Cody, hidden under the title of Commander as the war begins.

He's not sure why it has to change, but figures the Jetti they now finally serve don't understand the name. The one called Kenobi hadn't had trouble with it after he had chased Jango and his kih'vod off and away from Komino, but the longnecks say he is Cody, so now he is. Commander Cody's reputation spreads from the beginning of the war with both how quickly he takes to leadership and with the particular Jetti he serves, his yellow armor a beacon for most when he and the 212th charge across the battlefield. He's the first of 4 to be promoted to Marshal Commander, Cody grinning underneath his bucket at the cheers from his men, and the joy radiating from his General as he pins the commendation on his armor.

Cody remembers the day Obi-Wan said his name softly, walking beside the commander toward whatever they had been doing.

They never did make it to their final destination, instead, Cody nearly kicks down the door to an empty room and drags the Jetti inside. Lips meet before their brains catch up, and that damn cloak he's always dropping on the battlefield is now in the way as he aches to hold Obi-Wan close. He can't remember when he started wanting Obi-Wan, the man who understood his normally neutral mannerisms without the need to ask, and completed him in a way he never knew he was incomplete. Cody could melt when Obi-Wan cups his face, saying something but going unheard as he drank in those dazzling eyes and reddened cheeks, smiling for the first time in a long while. He's never been a selfish man, but Cody can't help but think that Obi-Wan is the first thing he's ever wanted for his own, and hopes that it will be easy to make this clear. Of course, Cody doesn't have to try, Obi-Wan always knows, calling him dear and darling after they eventually leave their little spot away from the world.

Cody remembers the first day he was just Cody to those he loves, Commander by day to clean up the corruption and devastation from a war finally ended.

It was a long process, just because the Sith behind it all was gone did not mean his collaborators were just going to stop, but it was fulfilling. Clankers were cut down with ease now they didn't have the drop on the clone troopers, and the rapidly dwindling numbers meant more time away from the front lines. More time to see worlds he had only seen in snippets or brief times on the surface, time to see survivors they'd help save, time to sit in the Temple on Coruscant and listen to Obi-Wan be a leading force towards a better Republic. Cody still finds it strange that most natborns were less hostile as the days pressed on, and sometimes sits with Fox to wonder if the Sith could control so many people on the neverending planet, to which they both shrug and agree that the Force was too weird to try and figure out.

Cody remembers the first time little Luke and Leia called him Ori'vod Kote, the little tubies scooped up into his arms with matching giggles.

Kote enjoys living on Naboo whenever he can drag Obi-Wan away from his work, chuckling when Luke usually traces his many scars while Leia asks for stories with an intense look on her face. He wonders how quickly a tubie can become a Senator, a question that causes Padme to launch into laughter and Skywalker to cover his face with his hands, which in turn makes their children laugh. Kote sometimes thinks of having his own tubies when he and Obi-Wan leave the planet after their visits but knows that their work needs to be finished before that can be allowed, as none of his will live in such a dangerous universe. Still, his (slightly still dangerous) life that Kote has is as perfect as it can be for now, and that's all he really needs.

---------

Happy 2/2/24 day to my favorite Marshal Commander!

[herenya-writes]

Buir aka Cody and his karked up relationship with one Jango Fett

Okay so I've had some thoughts rattling around my head for a fic, but i'm already writing a fic and this one is a bit outside of my wheelhouse, so i'm tossing said thoughts here for now. maybe i will one day write this. maybe not. enjoy?

Alphas call Jango “Prime” but the CC batches grew up knowing him as Buir, at least in the beginning

Jango gives Cody his name. Kote. Likes Cody. Listens to him, teaches him. Cody calls him Buir.

Jango chooses Boba. Young Cody doesn’t really understand the consequences of this choice until later.

All of the trainers remark that Cody has the same drive Jango Fett does, the same viciously clever mind. The same honed strength. Cody tries very hard not to show how much the words mean to him, especially when they could drive him apart from his vode.

Buir chooses the other side. Buir becomes Jango Fett. Cody won’t even call him Prime like the younger batches will. He hates the reminder that betrayal to the only family he’s ever known is as imprinted into his dna as his fighting skills are.

The war comes. He is named Marshal Commander and assigned to High General Obi-Wan Kenobi. He makes himself a beacon of all that a vod needs to be. He creates processes to hide vode who would otherwise be reconditioned or decommissioned. He is so very, very careful around Kenobi, who seems so perfect.

His loyalty feels torn between bleeding for his brothers and bleeding for his General.

Later, he meets up with Wolffe (and maybe the rest of the batch?). It’s after the rest of Wolffe’s battalion has been destroyed. Wolffe names General Plo ‘Buir’ and he does it with bared teeth. Daring Cody to call him out. (Cody leaves? Cody shouts? Cody panics and makes Fox help him find all the things he can do to keep Wolffe safe if it comes to that?)

Late in the war (after Umbara?) Cody is helping a brother who is pretty out of it. He’s young, barely earned his paint, and he mumbles something like ‘thanks, buir’. Maybe one of the medics hears it and teases Cody a little, but Cody completely shuts down. Sirens are going off in his skull screaming that that’s a name he has never been worthy of, not with so much blood on his hands that he is never going to be able to wash off. Rex calling him ori’vod is hard enough—he couldn’t save the rest of Rex’s batch, he barely saved Rex—and this?

He holds himself together until he reaches his quarters, and then he sobs his heart out. Maybe Obi-Wan is there to comfort him, but there’s only so much that can be said. Obi-Wan knows a thing or two about failing your children (they never should have been your children).

Optional happier ending: Crechemaster Cody. The little ones (clone and Force-sensitive alike) call him buir, and he names them ad’ika. He no longer needs to raise warriors.

[artemisdesari-blog]

The trouble with writing a long AU is sometimes it sparks ideas for others based off narrative choices. In this case; what would have happened if the deal between Dooku and Fett in Careless To Let It Fall had been allowed to happen.

After killing Komari, Fett encounters Dooku who offers him the job of being the progenitor and trainer of an army of clones. So good, so canon. In Careless this is expanded on as a deal where two hundred thousand men are grown and trained purely for the purpose of overthrowing the Republic Senate who are responsible for, among many things, supporting the New Mandalorian's take over of Mandalore (leading to something of a cultural genocide) and the mission to Galidraan where Dooku was given all the wrong information as part of a Death Watch trap, but Jango shot first. Obviously there are more issues than that, and Jango is in full on revenge and not thinking clearly mode, but that's the base of it. As Jango’s payment for helping the Jedi effectively overthrow the Senate (cesspool of corruption that it is) Jango will be given fifty thousand of those men to use to wipe out any Death Watch in hiding and take back Mandalore. Obviously, neither Dooku nor Jango mean to keep their end of the deal. Dooku knows Palpatine has bigger plans and will work on Jango as much as possible to make a larger army and Jango intends to just abscond with every clone when the time comes and wipe out any Jedi who come for them.

This where Careless and whatever this AU is would diverge. In Careless Qui-Gon Jinn lives, Obi-Wan goes off to do his own thing, and Fett gets aggressively mind wiped and controlled by Dooku and Sidious so that he truly becomes the major asshole we all love. There's other stuff, but that hasn't been revealed yet even though I'm at chapter 100.

In this universe, Qui-Gon would die and the Trade Federation, humiliated by how Sidious used them, would find a way to off the Chancellor of the Republic as a final fuck you. Maybe Palpatine’s death is just an accident. Either way, Sidious is out of the picture but the clones are already in production and the Senate is still a total cesspool of corruption and arrogance and greed. Without Sidious to help facilitate the plan of playing one side of a conflict against the other, Dooku has to rethink and do it fast. He rejoins the order (or stays, some agree he left before Qui-Gon died and just stopped by to visit, others think it was what caused him to leave and I am too tired and lazy to check which is correct), forms a relationship with Obi-Wan even though he doesn’t bring him into the plan because he can tell Obi doesn't have time due to Anakin’s everything, because I am trash for Grandpa Dooku stuff, and begins to quietly convince younger and more idealistic Jedi that the Senate needs an overhaul, usually approaching them after missions gone wrong, while periodically checking in on Jango and the clones.

All on Kamino appears to be going according to the revised plan, except its actually going according to Jango’s plan. Jango pulls in the trainers and spends a couple of years weeding out the ones he can't actually trust as much as he hoped while quietly adopting a few dozen clones, including many fan faves. Other trainers adopt other clones, those clones adopt brothers, they basically become a group of clans with Jango as their Mand'alor. Dooku’s Jedi come for their one hundred and fifty thousand soldiers who will help them overturn the Senate and the clones turn on the Jedi, capture them, and head off to Mandalore to take what Jango has promised them with Fett as their leader and Cody as his right hand. Predictably, Obi-Wan is sent to Mandalore to deal with the fall out while the rest of the Jedi Council try to work out what the actual fuck happened and how Dooku managed it.

In all likelihood this would result in the Jedi leaving the Republic because the fact that Dooku managed to draw a good number of them into the mess would catch attention and make things very difficult. We would probably end up with some Codywan (because this is me) but that would probably only be implied at the end rather than the focus.

But, yes, the danger of long form AUs and the ideas that narrative choices spark. Another one for the maybe some day pile.

[vodika-vibes]

Congratulations on your 650 followers Vodika! I bring you a request. May I please have a fairy tale AU with Jango Fett. Jango is the king of Mandalore and he hires you as his son's caretaker. As you spend more time with Boba and Jango the two of you fall in love with one another and even though you are just a commoner and Jango can have any woman he wants all Jango wants is to marry you and make you his queen.

Once again congratulations Vodika! I look forward to reading all of your requests once they are finished ❤️

Cin Vhetin

Summary: After losing your well-paying career as an in-home nanny due to a lie, you’re forced to move in with your older sister just to make ends meet. You’re about to give up on ever finding another job when your sister brings you an opportunity that you can’t turn down.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 2958

Prompt: Fairy Tale AU

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, I've had this mostly written for days now, I just couldn't get the final section to come out right. But I'm finally happy with it! So I hope you like it!

“I’m home~”

You look up from where you’re putting the finishing touches on tonight's dinner as your sister waltzes into the kitchen, a broad grin on her face. “Welcome back,” You greet tiredly, “You’re in a good mood, Rayne.”

“Of course I am, I got to see my future husband-”

“You mean the one who doesn’t know you exist? That future husband?”

“Hush, stop raining on my parade.” She spins around the kitchen, as though she’s still a teenager and not a woman nearing forty. “Anyway, I saw my beloved. And we had a conversation.”

“Oh?”

“He asked me if I wanted two loaves of bread or if one would be enough for tonight.”

“Sis, that isn’t talking, that’s him doing his job.” You counter with a roll of your eyes, “But continue.”

“It’s a step up.” She huffs as she stops spinning and flings her arms around your shoulders in a tight hug, “But, much more importantly. I signed you up for an interview at the palace tomorrow.”

“You what?!” You spin and glare at her, “An interview for what?”

“Don’t freak out,” She says as she jabs her finger in your face, “I’m doing you a favor.”

“Rayne!”

She rolls her eyes, “As you know, King Jango now has an infant son, and he needs a skilled nanny for Prince Boba. And you, my darling baby sister, are a skilled nanny and governess.” 

“Yeah, aside from the fact that I was fired from my last job.”

“Okay, so you weren’t fired because of anything you did, first of all. Those people lied about you and ruined your reputation, and this is an excellent way to repair that.” Rayne says as she places her hands on her hips, “Also, I know you’re doing your best to get a job and everyone is denying you because of the rumors, but I really think that this is the way to go.”

“If I get denied because of this lie—”

“You won’t,” Rayne reassures. “Your skill speaks for itself. And the King is rumored to be a discerning man.” She places her hands on your shoulders, “Will you go?”

You sigh, “Yeah. Okay.”

She squeals and flings her arms around you, “Oh, you won’t regret this, I know it.” Rayne releases you and claps her hands in front of her face, “Now, your interview is at the end of the day tomorrow, do you have a proper outfit to wear? I know you prefer your tunics, leggings, and boots. But do you have any skirts?”

“You know I don’t.” You say with a sigh, “I have a nice tunic and leggings that I can wear tomorrow. It’ll be fine.” Rayne opens her mouth to say something, but you cut her off, “I know you’re worried, but my clothes will be fine.”

She sighs and folds her arms, “I know, I know. I just…you’ve been so unhappy since you lost your last job. I’ve been worried.”

You make a face, “Well, the rumors weren’t kind to me, Rayne.”

“No, they weren’t.” She takes your hands and squeezes them, “I’ll leave you to your cooking, alright? I need to tend to the garden and then get cleaned up. Call me when dinner is done?”

“I always do.”

Rayne smiles at you and turns to leave the room, and then she pauses and looks at you, “Vod’ika,” you start at the familiar word falling from her lips, “Our buir’e would be proud of the woman you’ve become. I know I am.”

Your face heats and you avert your gaze, “You think so?”

“I know so.” Rayne hurries over to you and presses a light kiss to your temple. “Now, I do have to tend to the garden. Are you good?”

You smile at her, “Yeah. I’m good.” You watch as she leaves the room and then turn your attention back to the meal you’re preparing. You are so lucky that your sister is such an amazing person.  You’re never going to be able to pay her back.

The next day, your sister walks you to the palace, where you join the veritable army of other women who have applied for the position. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait?” Rayne asks as she tucks some hair out of your face, “I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure. You have better things to do than wait hours for me to finish my interview, Rayne. And I know you have some things you need to do.”

“Well, yes-”

“Don’t worry about me.” You reassure her, “I’ll be okay. I’ve done this before after all.”

Rayne sighs, “Alright. I’ll see you this evening then. I love you.”

“Love you too.” You watch as Rayne hurries into the crowd and you settle back to wait for your turn. You know it’ll be a long wait.

King of Mandalore, Jango Fett, leans back in his chair as the most recent interviewee is escorted from the room. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to stem the growing migraine.

“Well, this is going splendidly,” Miles notes dryly, “Half of those women have never seen a child, and the other half would be bad fits for living in the palace.”

Jango grunts, and then drops his hand, “You heard the woman who claims that children need a firm hand?”

“Oh yes,” Miles’ smile isn’t nice, “I made a note of that.”

“How many more?”

“Just the one,” Miles replies.

“And what do we know about her?”

“She’s quite the talented nanny,” He replies, “Has been caring for children since she was a child, used to Nanny for the Kryze clan.”

Jango lifts his head, “Used to?”

“There were some allegations of inappropriate behavior. Rumors and hearsay, mostly. Though, there are quite a few notes here, from a lot of people, indicating that those rumors and allegations are nothing more than lies.”

“Shocking, someone from the Kryze family lying.”

“Hm, if only we could power your kingdom with sarcasm-” Miles counters, just as sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jango glances at the peacefully slumbering Boba, and then looks at Miles, “Well, we might as well get this over with. Call her in.”

Miles nods, once, and leaves the room.

He’s gone for almost five minutes, though Jango knows that’s because Miles is doing his pre-screening. Something that he started after the second woman let slip that she was looking for a title and a crown.

Honestly, he’s never going to get used to these leeches. Being a member of the royal family is hardly worth all that.

He sits up when the door opens, and Miles steps into the room, looking very smug. Trailing behind him is a young woman. Her hair is neatly pulled out of her face, and her clothes are neat, but don’t hang overly loose.

And, unlike most everyone else, her gaze skips right over him to focus on Boba. 

That, by itself, moves her to the top of the list.

“The last applicant, your Majesty,” Miles says with a gesture towards the young woman, and then he bows and leaves the room.

“His name is Boba,” Jango says, “He’s only a couple of weeks old.”

The corners of her lips turn down thoughtfully, “Forgive me for saying so, but having such a young baby around so many people is not safe for him.” 

Jango leans back in his seat, and a small smirk plays on his lips. Negative reputation or not, his estimation of her is going higher and higher. “I haven’t been allowing anyone to hold him.”

“Well, that’s something I suppose.” She finally turns her gaze to him and offers a shallow, but respectful curtsy. “I apologize, then.”

“There’s no need for that.” Jango scans her thoughtfully. She is young, but she looks tired. And her clothes hang on her, as though she’s recently lost a lot of weight. Or the clothes used to belong to someone else. “You were looking out for my son.”

He picks up her resume and motions for her to take a seat, which she does.

“I have your resume here,” He says, “And, honestly, I have a hard time believing that you don’t already have a job. Nannying since you were a teenager. A qualified governess in your own right. You’ve nannied for some very big names over the years. The most recent being the Kryze clan.”

“That’s all accurate, yes.” She replies, though her lips tighten at the mention of her previous employers. 

Jango sets the resume down on the table, “Based on your qualifications, you’re more than qualified for the job.” he says lightly, “But, understand, Boba is my only son. So I have to ask about these rumors-”

She winces and her shoulders curl in on her, “What would you like to know?”

There’s something like resigned defeat in her voice, and Jango finds himself not liking it. “What happened?”

Absently she rolls the hem of her sleeve between her fingers, “I was hired as the Nanny and Governess for Korkir Kryze three months before he was born.” She explains quietly, “I prepared the nursery, made sure that the house had everything it needed, and when he was born, I was the first one to hold him. I don’t think the Duke or the Duchess ever held him.” 

“Go on.”

“I can’t remember a single instance of his parents ever being in the same room as Korkie for longer than it took for a photo op or a meal.” She continues, “When he started talking, he called me mom. The Duchess…” She trails off, “She wasn’t happy about it.” She finally says.

“They fired you.”

“And spread rumors that I was a Noble Hunter and that I tried to seduce the Duke.” She bristles slightly, “I would never. I have enough self-respect to not try and poach from another woman-”

Jango holds up a hand, “Peace.”

She quells, though she still looks very unhappy.

“What happened after you were fired?”

“I moved in with my sister, it’s where I’ve been living.”

Jango nods thoughtfully, “This position comes with a series of rooms in the palace,” He explains, you also get two days off a week, days that you can set. You will be responsible for Boba during the day when I’m working, but you’ll only need to take him in the early mornings, evenings, or at night if I’m indisposed for some reason.”

She blinks at him, “Wait, you mean-?”

He smiles, “The position is yours, we’ll work out the rest of the hard details a bit later.”

“Thank you!”

His smile widens, “Would you like to hold Boba?”

She immediately walks over to the infant and allows Jango to place him in her arms. He watches as she adjusts his weight with the ease of someone who’s been caring for children for a long time.

“Time for the grand tour,” Jango says, “Follow me please.”

You settle into your new routine with ease. King Jango is a fine father and an even better man. He never treats you as if you’re less than him, and he listens to you if you say that there’s something wrong with Boba, or if you note that something needs to be changed.

In the 6 months that you’ve worked for him, you come to realize that you’ve never been as comfortable working for a family as you do when working for the King.

And yes, there is something of a small crush there. But you would never dream of risking your job in the hopes of catching his eye.

At 6 months old, Boba can roll over in both directions, and he babbles, though he still isn’t quite at the talking stage. More importantly, he’s learned stranger anxiety. Luckily, you’re not a stranger and he reaches for you as often as he reaches for his father.

Right now, though, Boba’s asleep in his crib and you’re organizing his nursery.

It’s one of the few nights where Jango isn’t able to put Boba down for the night, though, knowing the King, he’ll pop in as soon as he’s done in his meeting.

And, true to your expectations, half an hour later the nursery door opens. 

The King offers you a tired smile, and then walks over to the crib to peer down at the baby, “How was he today?”

“A little grumpy.” You reply, “But he settled around noon time.”

“That’s good.” You watch as Jango smoothes a curl off of Boba’s forehead, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to put him down for the night.”

“It happens,” You reply lightly, you slip a couple more diapers into the drawer, and then you glance at him, “It’s been happening a lot these last couple of weeks.” You note, almost absently.

It’s an offer for him to confide in you if he wants.

Jango sighs, “It has, yes.” He falls silent for a moment, “I know I only hired you to take care of Boba, but it’d be nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who’s not involved.”

You finish folding Boba’s clothes and put them in the dresser before you turn to look at him, “I’m always happy to listen, Jango.” You make sure the baby monitor is on, and then follow him out of Boba’s nursery and into Jango’s suites.

You sink onto one of the plush couches as he offers you a glass of juice, before he sits next to you, “The Council, and Miles, are pushing me to get married.” Jango says.

“I wasn’t aware that you had a partner,” You note thoughtfully as you take a sip of the juice and set the cup on the table.

“I don’t. That’s the problem.”

“You’re the King, if you want them to stop just tell them.”

“Sadly, it doesn’t work like that. They have lists of women who might be interested in marrying me, but—” He shakes his head.

“But you’re not interested.”

“I’m not blind, I’m well aware that I could have any noblewoman that I wanted. The problem is that I don’t want any of them.”

“May I ask why not?” You ask, curious.

“Boba.”

You exhale slowly, “Okay, that’s fair.”

“Plus, I have no interest in firing you. And the last thing I want is to put you in another situation like the Kryze situation.”

“That’s kind of you, Jango. But I really shouldn’t be a consideration in this.”

“Why not? You’re basically Boba’s mother at this point.”

You laugh softly, “That’s going to get me in trouble, I know it.”

Jango leans back for a moment, his dark eyes scanning you, “I lied.”

“About?”

“Not wanting any woman specifically.” Jango clarifies, “There’s one woman I’m interested in.”

“Okay, so you should talk to her.”

“I am.”

“Oh. Oh!” Your face heats and you press your hands against your cheeks, “Me. You mean me.”

Jango chuckles softly, though there’s nothing unkind there, “I do mean you.”

“But I’m just a nanny.”

“So? My parents were farmers, it was my adoptive dad who made me King.” Jango shifts on the couch so that his knees are almost touching you, “Boba loves you. And you’ve managed to keep me sane these last six months.”

“I don’t know anything about ruling a kingdom.”

“You don’t have to, that will remain my job.” Jango’s warm fingers brush against your cheek, “Tell me you’re not interested, and I’ll never mention it again.”

You stare at him, “I just…why me?”

“Because you’re you. Because the idea of you not being in my life makes me miserable.” Jango’s fingers slide across your lips.

“People will make assumptions—”

“Let them. So long as we both know the truth,” Jango leans in, his lips hovering just over yours, “You are the one I want. The only one I want.”

A soft sigh falls from your lips, “Jango—”

You’re not able to finish your thought, as his lips catch yours in a gentle, almost chaste, kiss. Your hands come up to lightly press against his cheeks, and then one of your hands slides to card through his curls.

Jango releases a low groan, the kiss deepening as he leans you back, so you’re lying on the couch and he’s supporting his weight on his elbows. He lightly nips your lower lip and then soothes the sore spot with his tongue.

You don’t mean to release the breathy whine at the feel of his teeth against you, but you do, and Jango practically collapses on you with a deep appreciative moan.

His lips move to your throat, and you gasp when he bites down on the sensitive skin located there, intent on leaving a mark.

You know that he would keep going and that you would let him when the baby monitor releases a little noise, and you both still at the sound of Boba waking up. 

He stares down at you, and you blink up at him, “I need to go get him,” You whisper. 

“Yeah.” Jango kisses you one more time, “We’ll have to continue this later. If you want?”

“Well,” You smile at him shyly, “I wouldn’t say no.”

He flashes an eager, and boyish, grin. “I can’t wait,” Jango murmurs as he climbs off of you and allows you to grab the baby monitor to hurry to the nursery.

And, when Jango joins you in the nursery half an hour later and wraps himself around you to watch you take care of Boba, you’re really not surprised. Just like you’re not surprised when his arms slide tightly around your waist and he holds you tightly.

You know that it’ll be a change, being in a relationship with the King. But you find yourself excited about the change, rather than anxious.

[viablemess]

modern Codywan AU idea part 1

organized crime member Cody under "mand'alor" Jango + teacher / school board nominee with a heavy past Obi-Wan. This is a beast of an idea post so buckle up and join me for the ride this took over my brain when writing another wip and would not leave me alone. I like it a lot, I hope you do too.

tw: mentions of school shootings, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of physical assault (all vague, but still)

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The Fetts are a influential and very well known organized crime family in a large city, and Obi-Wan is one of three children to Qui-Gon and maybe Shmi, alongside Anakin and Ahsoka.

Boba is a student in Obi-Wan's elementary class. After most of the students are picked up save for Boba and a few other kids, there is a shooting nearby, and Obi-Wan shelters the kiddos until the shooter is apprehended. The Fett Family shows up to pick up Boba and Obi-Wan is respectful to them, oblivious to who they are, and most importantly, kept Boba and the other kids safe. As a result, Cody slips Obi-Wan a note saying "if you need anything call me, no questions asked" with his personal cell number. Obi-Wan saves it, not because he thinks he will need it, but because Anakin might, who has been involved in many illegal street races (alongside Waxer and Boil maybe whoops, they don't know the connection for most of the plot). Or, perhaps Qui-Gon will need it, because he and Shmi have been threatened by individuals and groups around their housing.

For a bit, Boba is the line of communication between Obi-Wan and Cody. He lets little stories slip and Cody hopes Obi-Wan does not call, because he seems like a gentle soul who teaches little kids, he does not belong in Cody's world. At the same time, he is a gentle soul who teaches little kids, Cody really wants to take him to dinner.

Obi-Wan texts a few times to ask about helping his brother Anakin, and Cody admits to not being able to make street race charges go away, but he will poke around, they exchange some information, and that's that.

Cody keeps working under his dad as a very respected *ahem* commander. They're looking into a new organization who might poach some buyers off of them and their smuggling deals, and to top it off, the new organization seems to break a lot of the Fett's unspoken rules of conduct. The organization's name? CIS. Of course. Rex wants to make a gender joke. The CIS are the same folks extorting the Skywalker-Kenobi family. Also of course.

And then parent teacher conferences happen because they're helpful, but Jango gets pulled into a negotiation and can't make it, surprise surprise, Cody has to go. He manages to weasel his way into dinner afterwards, and it's great. Obi-Wan is actually a snarky minx and Cody's falling fast. Obi-Wan explains that he is running for the school board because of a lot of corruption and problems in the public school district, and he wants to support the kids who have rough home lives, and Cody does some tip toeing around, and Obi-Wan picks up on what he isn't saying, because he has done his research now. Cody is so loyal, kind, and strong, and Obi-Wan is also cracking fast. It's no question these two are hooked on each other. Cody offers to walk Obi-Wan back to his car, and finds the windshield broken or his tires slashed or something. Obi-Wan manages to pass it off, and oh darn Cody needs to give Obi-Wan a ride home and it's cute.

Anakin keeps racing to earn extra money, and Qui-Gon and Shmi try to deal with things on their own. Obi-Wan goes back home to check on his parents and only sibling who lives with them, Ahsoka. Turns out someone is threatening her in a sexual manner, threatening human trafficking, and Obi-Wan flips shit. He does not tell Qui-Gon because Ahsoka begs him not too. He certainly does not tell Anakin, and so Obi-Wan goes out and does his best big brother act and tries to figure out where this is coming from. He figures out it's Maul, who has harassed and extorted his family before. A brief fight follows. Obi-Wan breaks some of Maul's ribs. Maul breaks Obi-Wan's wrist. Teaching without his dominant hand for the next few weeks absolutely sucks, and Boba definitely talks to Cody about it. Obi-Wan does not want to panic Cody, he's dealt with people like Maul before, so he tries to pass it off as clumsiness. Cody isn't buying it, but he also isn't going to push... yet.

I'm falling asleep, but will be back with part 2 soon <3

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I do not have time to write this but I had to share the thought before I forget it. If anyone wants to write it please be my guest just credit/share

[phoenixyfriend]

If you still do the ask meme: nr.1 for a timetravel Jangosoka?

26 Family Prompts Ask Meme

Accidental Baby Acquisition

This contains both intentional and accidental acquisition. (They'll give it back! Probably.)

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

"He's mine."

Jango looks at the woman he has, somehow, managed to fall for.

He looks at the baby.

He looks at her again.

"You adopted? Without asking me?"

"No, birthed him myself."

That baby is human. Fully human. There is no chance, in any way, that Ahsoka managed to have a fully human child. There's some shit about placentas or whatever. A tog can't surrogate a human and vice versa.

"Jetii--"

"Oh, I'm in trouble," she giggles, entirely too enthused about his annoyance.

"Jetii," he tries again, "please tell me you didn't steal a child."

"I did not steal a child," she confirms. "I just... acquired one."

"Acquired one."

"Yeah."

He waits in vain. He breaks and asks, "Ahsoka, how did you acquire this child?"

She smiles at him.

--

The child's name is Ferus Olin. He was not stolen, but given willingly by his parents for Ahsoka to take to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

"You could have just said so," Jango gripes as he fires up the engines. She laughs at him, and hikes the tot higher on her hip. "Don't act like it's not within the realm of possibility that you'd randomly pick up a kid and forget to warn me about it."

"Sure," she says, "but consider this: it was funny."

"You are not nearly as funny as you think you are."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes and addresses the kid instead. "What do you think, Ferus? Am I funny?"

The toddler--baby, really--stares up at her silently. There is something up with that kid, but Jango figures that's par for the course with Force Sensitives.

A slightly wet, very chubby hand lands on a lekku.

"That is saliva," Jango notes aloud, mostly because Ahsoka looks a little disgusted, and likes she's trying to hide it from the kid. "Baby drool."

"Oh, fu--shove off."

"Classy."

--

So like. Here's the thing. About carting around two almost-Jedi:

One of them is his age, and hot, and weird, and he's a little bit in love with her.

The other one is less than a year old, and should be relatively safe and sound to leave alone for five minutes while napping so they can do things like use the bathroom, or argue over the nav, or knock against the walls doing things that babies probably shouldn't know about.

Ahsoka says that Ferus was a rule-abiding guy in the future, uptight, even.

This means nothing, because the ship jolts out of hyperspace without warning while Jango's got his hand up a hot tog's skirt, and they both have to rush to the cockpit to find the literal baby has crawled onto the pilot's seat and somehow turned off the nav.

The baby continues patting, full-palm, at the controls.

"What the fuck?" Jango demands.

"Language," Ahsoka sniffs, and then picks up the baby and swings him around. "Who's a little troublemaker? You are!"

"What the actual--"

"Language!" Ahsoka snaps, a little harsher this time. "There's a baby."

"Yes, I noticed, it just knocked us out of hyperspace."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes. "It's fine. We just need to keep a better eye on him."

"This could have been deadly."

"Eh, doubt it," she dismisses. "I mean, with a normal kid, yeah, but I bet you ten to one odds that he did this because the Force told him to."

"I cannot explain how much that doesn't fill me with confidence."

She ignores him. She settles into the chair, toddler on her lap, and closes her eyes. This lasts for several minutes, and Jango tries to keep his impatience under control so he doesn't 'project' it into the Force or whatever it is that the Jedi are worried about. It would distract Ahsoka, and possibly more importantly, it would upset the baby.

"I've got it," she finally says. "A direction. He pulled us out a bit early, but the fact that we didn't overshoot it is a bit of a shocker in and of itself."

"A direction to what?"

She shrugs. "We'll find out."

--

The direction is to a fresh-faced teenage Duros by the name of Cad Bane, who's been floating around the guild's gossip lines for a few years now. He's good, for eighteen, but Jango hasn't met him before, and Ahsoka really doesn't like him--Jedi don't hate, supposedly--and that's enough for Jango to have zero interest in really networking here.

Also, Bane has a stolen toddler. Jango knows the toddler is stolen, because she's dressed in far-too-fancy clothes for Bane to bother with, and screaming her head off, and trying to bite him, and yelling about how she wants to go home. Surprisingly eloquent for a toddler, actually. She can't be more than four.

Jango wants to get involved. He's itching for a fight. He does not get one.

He gets the smaller baby, and is told to take care of said baby and be ready to catch the bigger baby--toddler--while Ahsoka handles the fighting.

It seems kinda personal. Jango leaves her to it. It's not like they need both of them to fight this literal teenager.

(He's right. They don't.)

--

There are now two small children on Jango's ship. One of them is barely-almost a toddler, and the other is barely-almost not.

"I am Padme Naberrie of Naboo," the little girl tells him, all care and important grandeur. "Thank you for saving me. When may I return home?"

Naboo. The noble kids from there are damn creepy. Also worth a good ransom or a better bounty, to some. It's not exactly surprising that Bane went for one of them. the family must be pretty influential somehow.

"Not sure," Ahsoka says. "We were on our way to Coruscant... do you have a number we can call? Maybe one of your parents can meet us on the way."

"That is ac-cep-table," the little girl sounds out. She even bows, a touch wobbly. "Thank you, Master Jedi."

Ahsoka is not a Master, and is only sort of a Jedi. She does not correct little Padme, because that would be a little mean, in Jango's estimate. The girl's just been through something harrowing, and even he's not that much of a dick.

"Do you know their contact info?" he asks instead.

--

They aren't on a convenient hyperlane for Naboo, so they're meeting Lady Naberrie on Corellia. It's several days there, which is still faster than trying to get to Naboo from where they currently are, and Padme spends an hour or two talking to her mother before the woman enters hyperspace and comms are no longer an option. Then she talks to her father, and asks about someone called Sola, and Jango's not paying enough attention to keep track of who's who in the life of a child that is not his.

He doesn't have enough beds on the ship for this.

He empties out a small armor crate and lines it with blankets, then sets it on teh floor by the end of his bed. It's big enough for Ferus, who probably doesn't care much for fancy things. Padme gets her own bed, because they're strangers and it would be odd to suggest she share with Ahsoka as a gender thing. The other, larger bed is then for Jango and his somewhat irritating and entirely too lovely Jedi.

He laces his fingers with hers, once they're in bed, autopiloting down the hyperlane. Padm's breathing has finally evened out, and Ferus hasn't woken up yet either.

"Do you want them?" he asks.

"Hm?" Ahsoka shifts, and when she speaks, it's sleep-heavy and muddled. "Want what?"

"Kids," he says.

She's silent, long enough that he starts to wonder if she's fallen asleep, but eventually she shrugs. "I'll take an apprentice one day, probably."

It's basically the same thing, for Jedi.

"Did I ever..."

He tries not to ask too much about his personal future. He knows how Galidraan would have ended, and knows that somehow, he had been involved in a clone army that tried to kill Ahsoka when she was seventeen. She tries not to tell him too much.

"One," she says. "Boba. A few years younger than me. And..."

She doesn't finish.

"And?"

"Maybe another time," she says.

He's gotten that response more than once. He knows it for the wall it is.

"Alright," he says. "You could... tell me about Boba in the morning?"

"Maybe."

Noncommittal. He's not entirely surprised.

"Okay," he finally says. He presses a kiss to her lek. "Goodnight, Ahsoka."

"Night, Jango."