#Mos Espa Market

[sw5w]

Passing Red Nikto

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:37:59

[marvelstars]

Anakin´s favorite food

1.- Shmi tried to treat Anakin whenever she could. Most of the food they were able to acquire resulted in very bland dishes, but on the rare occasions when Shmi had extra things to barter with, she took Anakin out to the food markets in Mos Espa. In particular, she would take Anakin to a food vendor that sold franikhad, a meat dish common on desert planets

2. Tarsh Maxers: In the novel "Outbound Flight," part of the Legends continuity that "The Clone Wars" borrows elements from, Anakin is described as enjoying Tarsh Maxers, a spicy and pungent Naboo dish made with roasted roots and grubs. While not directly shown in the show, this hints at his possible preference for bold, flavorful foods.

3. Tatooine fruit (general): Throughout the series, Anakin is frequently seen eating various fruits native to Tatootine. These include pear-shaped fruits, purple berries, and other vibrant options. This could indicate a fondness for familiar tastes reminding him of his childhood and simpler times.

4.- Ruby bliel was a gooey, tasty drink that could be found on the planet Tatooine. It was known to have been available at several cantinas on Tatooine, including Maggy the Gorgon's and the Blue Brubb in Mos Espa and stalls around Mos Espa. It was a favorite of young Anakin Skywalker, W. Wald and Kitster Chanchani Banai.[2] It was one of multiple drinks, alongside the galaxy guzzler and dusty dazzler, that could be made using a mixture of liquidized fruits and vegetables, as well as water. Its liquid form was meant to maximize liquid intake, as Tatooine's twin suns—Tatoo I and Tatoo II—gave the planet extreme temperatures.The ruby bliel was non-alcoholic.

[of-tatooine]

where it truly lies. | chapter ii - rain

little anakin's vivid imagination made him wonder.

It kept getting in your eyes.

No matter how much you covered up, every inch of potentially exposed skin besides your eyes that were necessary for the job at hand, the little grains found their merry way in, further annoying you in the process.

Ah, how much you hated sand.

You swore you could hear him agreeing with your thoughts in the depths of your mind.

It was ironic, really, considering you both worked to live and lived to work on a completely sand-covered, desert planet - when both of you despised it with a passion. It also did not help that it had to be one of the worse days of the year to tinker with the metal structure in front of you, as your body protested internally. The scorching suns radiated their never-ending heat over the partially covered corner of the vast scrapyard, your holdup point for today’s session stationed right next to a fairly tall sand dune.

But it had to be done. There was a goal, a joint objective, that failure could not withhold the hopeful hearts of two little troublemakers willing to risk it all.

Yours just had to be the fastest one. Anything below first place, was unacceptable.

You could never forget the light in his eyes and just how fast he stood up with excitement when you had first came to him with the over-the-top idea, which was slowly proving to be one of the most arduous tasks in hindsight.

There was a rather strong feeling within you that all of it would be worth it. One day, somewhere, sometime.

It had to be, after all this effort.

But nevertheless, up until that moment when you could relinquish in victory, both of you needed to hurry with the screws and bolts until Shmi Skywalker called for dinner later that night.

“Do you ever wonder how rain feels like?”

The boy’s bob of scuffed blond hair tilted parted in the wind ever so slightly, a big pair of tired blue-grays found yours for a brief moment as he slid up his protective sand goggles - an accessory you should have also been sporting. His hands were holding on tightly to the rear wing, previously working diligently to connect the two motors through the recently acquired energy binder. Anakin had lost count of the hours spent on customizing the engines whenever he was out of his master’s watchful command, hand in hand with his best friend in the whole wide galaxy.

He would later realize that anything you told him took his attention away in a split second. This had been no exception, though the boy took his time to slightly ponder the question in his head, surprised you voiced yet another thought that he often found himself dwelling on before his slumber took him away most nights, before he would be woken up by nightmares.

Of course, he did.

It was a comforting thought. He had read about the rain that came sparsely once in a century on this desert planet, saw some holograms merchants would trade of far, unknown planets while roaming the dry and chaotic markets of Mos Espa as he trailed behind his master. He recalled seeing something akin to shiny little droplets, like clear jade bits falling down from the skies. His unusually vivid imagination somehow failed to fully comprehend just how it would look like if long-awaited water crowned the endless peaks of sand. Would it be humid? Would the existent heat cause everything to evaporate? Would it feel like that fresh splash of water he woke himself up with, yet coming down from the heavenly skies instead of a stale supply from the bucket?

The clinks of your screwdriver as you tightened yet another bolt to hold the connector wires in their places took him out of his thoughts, only to realize he had not properly answered you. “I have.”

A smallest blush creeped up his cheeks and he thanked the Maker for the high suns to disguise it. You, ever the patient one, shot him a knowing grin as another stabilizer to hold the control cable in place snapped tight, not yet attached to the engines as the cable slapped against the sand in a low thud. “I have trouble imagining so much water in one place,” the words flowed from your lips, eyebrows furrowing slightly in concentration as you found the strength to climb up the scaffolding stairs a bit further up on the blue and silver metal structure, attempting to reach what was going to eventually become the cockpit - not without a couple of huffs of complaint as a foot faltered slightly, yet it found a stable surface to hoist yourself up and into the makeshift seat.

Anakin sometimes wished you had let him help you more, though he chuckled slightly at your comment. “Anything is better than sand,” he mumbled just loud enough, hands clutching onto the metal levers of the rightmost racing engine to ensure the trailing wing had been properly attached.

“It’s not that bad most of the time, Ani. You had to choose one of the hottest days of the decade.”

“I don't like sand,” he started, as yet another gust of heated wind splashed minuscule yet annoying amounts of sand to both children’s faces, as if the galaxy had heard him.

“See? It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.”

All you could do was laugh, having heard the exact complaints many times before that it had become a cherished daily ritual. As he kicked his feet and attempted to pat away the sand that got on his cheeks and desert robes, you thanked the Maker for the small but mighty plexi-shield you had thought of putting over the edge of the cockpit that temporarily kept you away from the wrath of the sand. Fueled with even more desire to finish the tasks at hand to spend even less time out in the open, little Anakin lowered his goggles to focus on getting his scrapped engines to ignite properly.

“Maybe this thing will take us to a planet far, far away,” you mumbled to yourself as you attempted to attach control levers to internal wires trailing within the unfinished cockpit, stealing a small glance at him between movements.

Behind those goggles, his eyes acquired a spark that lit up his soul with the fire of dreams, not just of the desert heat.

Anakin still remembered his master, no doubt with the effects of a little too much booze and ill-placed bets, put him in a clunky podracer for the first time. “The smugglers offered me too much,” he had said as Anakin strapped his belt and helmet on with a newfound ease, stepping foot in a racer cockpit for the first time - yet it had felt like the millionth.

“They told me no human could race in one of these.”

The moment his hands had found the steering rods, his gaze switching up to revel in the roaring cheers of the crowd in the narrow, orange canyon, he felt the energy, the speed, the sheer momentum coax through his little being.

He just knew how to operate that thing, and his instincts proved him right as he crossed the finish line, a mere boy hailed a wonder in the small arena, an elated Watto running to him to pat his head.

Following his uncanny talent, he wanted to make one of his own, adorned with the blue of his eyes and the glorious silver of your choice, a racer so awfully fast. It did not matter to him that the majority of the material that tied the very vehicle together were scraps and junk rescued from the shop, no.

From that day on, he wanted to race. The gentle tremors of the engine jolting him, the corners quick and turns daunting. Feel the adrenaline run through his very being, when he crossed the finish line first. He wished to find only to find your eyes watching you with pride and with joy.

To maybe, one day, whisk you far, far away into the depths of the galaxy, find a planet on which you would dance in the falling rain with him.

It was what little Anakin would dream of that night, safe in his bed. He would be too far gone in the dreamland of greenery and blue heavens to notice the disturbance in the Force that shook like a tremor.

[margindoodles2407]

How taco Tuesday saved the galaxy please!

HAHA You are in LUCK, this is a bunch of BULLET POINTS so you get the WHOLE THING

MUAHAHAHA

HOW TACO TUESDAY SAVED THE GALAXY

AKA The AU Where Nothing Goes Wrong And Everyone Gets To Be A Big Happy Family (AKA TAUWNGWAEGTBABHF)

A Star Wars Crack-Treated-Seriously Fix-It AU by Margin and Margin's Friend

The Premise

All the bad things that happen in the Star Wars prequels are prevented because Anakin and Obi-Wan established a tradition of Taco Tuesday with friends when Anakin was a young padawan.

The Premise, Broken Down

Tacos are an invention of Tatooine. They’re easy and inexpensive to make and can be garnished with practically anything. When Anakin was a child, Shmi would make them often for this reason, but they were so poor that she could hardly ever afford anything other than cheese and the spicy peppers that somehow thrive in the planet’s arid climate. (To this day, cheese and pepper tacos remain Anakin’s favorite.) Though they weren’t anything much, the simple love and care that Shmi put into the meagre meal established them as Anakin’s most favorite food.

After the events of The Phantom Menace, and early into Anakin’s apprenticeship, he shyly mentions to Obi-Wan that he misses his mother’s cooking. Intrigued about Anakin’s native culture (because he was the only member of the original party who didn’t get to go on that field trip to Mos Espa) and earnest to find ways to understand and befriend his young Padawan, Obi-Wan begins to research traditional Tatooinian cuisine- and Anakin gives him tips as they haphazardly learn to make tacos together. They both highly enjoy their experience, and before they realize quite what’s happened they’ve established a tradition of making tacos together every Tuesday night.

As time passes, they begin to invite friends over to share their taco-making exploits.

In the early years, this means a lot of visits from Obi-Wan’s best friend Quinlan Vos and his own apprentice, Aayla Secura (because the Anakin-Aayla childhood friendship happened and you CANNOT and WILL NOT change my mind).

About three years after TPM, 12-year-old Anakin spontaneously invites Master Yoda over, without Obi-Wan’s knowledge, and he shows up about halfway through dinner, leaving Anakin delighted and his poor master very confused. Yoda continues to just show up, uninvited, from then on, and after the initial shock wears off, taco night without Yoda is unnatural and unheard of. 

Obi-Wan himself, taking note of the mounting tension between his Padawan and Mace Windu, decides when Anakin is about 15 to begin inviting the Master over for taco night as well. Mace doesn’t care for tacos, but does quite enjoy nachos- another Tatooinian invention- and he and Anakin come to the realization that Anakin’s favorite kind of taco, cheese and spicy pepper and crickets, is practically the same as Mace’s nachos in a taco shell. It is the first of many times they will learn to reconcile their differences in such a manner.

Inevitably, Attack of the Clones happens. Padme is still almost assassinated, Obi-Wan still finds out about the Clones and Kamino, Anakin is still assigned to be Padme’s bodyguard and they still fall in love. But Shmi Skywalker doesn’t die. Because in this timeline, instead of a lavish dinner in a gazebo on the shores of a Naboo lake, Anakin makes tacos with Padme and his mother in Cliegg Lars’s kitchen… using ingredients that they bought while their transport, due to a technical oversight and a malfunctioning engine, was landed for a refuel and repair on Tatooine. 

Anakin wants to share his favorite food with the woman he loves, and while in the market, Anakin can’t stop thinking about his dreams about his mother. Their transport will be stopped for a few days, due to the amount of time needed to refuel and repair such a large ship, so he decides to ask around for her while they’re here anyway. He still meets Watto, Cliegg, and Owen and Beru. He still rides to the Tusken camp where his mother is still imprisoned. But he arrives days- nay, weeks- earlier than in canon. He can still save her. Shmi doesn’t die in his arms. The Tusken Massacre doesn’t happen. Anakin gets his mother medical attention and she is saved. By the time they return, though, his and Padme’s transport has already left for Naboo, but they decide Tatooine is still safe enough for Padme, so they let her hosts in the Lake Country know they’re safe but won’t be staying with them after all, and the Larses are kind enough to provide residence for Shmi’s son and the charming woman he’s traveling with.

Obi-Wan’s broadcast still reaches Anakin and Padme, and the battle of Geonosis still happens. The Clone Wars still begin. Anakin is still knighted, still secretly marries Padme, still takes Ahsoka as his Padawan. But in this timeline, there are Taco Tuesdays. 

Even on missions, as often as they can, Obi-Wan and Anakin make time for their taco dinners in some fashion. And their stretches of time on Coruscant absolutely provide for this. Various people come and go, but by the middle of the war, there is an established guest list that meets every tuesday night:

Anakin and Obi-Wan, of course. Ahsoka, naturally, because she’s their little sister. Rex, usually with various members of the 501st trailing behind him, and Cody, as often as he can make it, with at least half of the 212th. Yoda and Mace, who have been coming without fail every Tuesday since they were first invited, unless their lives are endangered or they are halfway across the galaxy. Padme, too, desperately needs a break from her senatorial duties, and as wife close friend to Anakin, she’s more than welcome.

And that’s not even getting into the various guests that will show up at Master Kenobi’s apartment, usually without warning but always welcomed with open arms. Plo Koon, Ki-Adi-Mundi, and Luminara Unduli will drop by whenever it is possible for them; Ahsoka will bound in dragging sweet, nervous Barriss Offee behind her at least half the time; Aayla, as Anakin’s closest childhood friend, stops by when she’s not overly preoccupied by something else, usually trailed by her husband Commander Bly or her former master, Quinlan Vos; during particularly tumultuous sessions of the Senate where representatives from nearly every Republic and Neutral Planet are called, it isn’t uncommon to see Padme walking in while in the middle of a conversation with the ever-well-received Duchess of Mandalore. Plenty of Clones can be expected at any given gathering, as well as any Jedi and/or Padawan who just needs a meal.

There are many reasons why so many people are drawn to Taco Night: the warmth of a family, the laughter of friends, the immutable fact that tacos are so diverse that everyone can technically be eating the same thing yet have exactly what they want on their dinner. And the conversations. The discussions, whether jesting in nature or of a more serious subject. 

And it is a mix of all of these things that leaves a mark on Anakin Skywalker.

From the beginning, even back in the days when he was nine years old and it was just him, Obi-Wan, and their apartment’s tiny kitchenette, he had a sense of home. Of a love similar to the one he shared with his mother- not exactly the same, never the same, but not quite so different as he had thought, and a good kind of different. He still misses his mother, of course, but he comes to realize- in a way that his canon self never did- that love multiplies, not divides. That to love Obi-Wan, and then Padme, and then Ahsoka, and then all his other friends, does not diminish his love for his mother. That to have a new family does not mean that he has forsaken the old one. He learns the difference between empty, jealous attachment, and full, warm, self-giving love.

And he learns to listen. The conversations that his family- his large, eccentric, taco-loving family- hold can range from silly (it is perfectly acceptable to tease Obi-Wan for eating tacos with a full set of cutlery, and to laugh at the fact that Ahsoka’s tacos are meat, and only meat, including having a slice of ham as the vehicle instead of a flatbread- Togruta are carnivores, after all) to serious (why exactly attachment is forbidden, what attachment even is, if and how it is possible to reconcile the current state of affairs in the galaxy with the peacekeeping nature of the Jedi), but one thing stays the same- people listen. In this universe, over meals of bread and cheese and various meats, Anakin learns to think about the other viewpoint. To compare, contrast, and reconcile his own beliefs with the opposing viewpoint. To observe, ponder, digest, what the other person is saying before blurting out something rash, or acting on impulse. Anakin learns to listen. 

And listen he does.

For it is not merely Anakin Skywalker who is changed by these weekly dinners. In various manners, the events that transpire at Taco Tuesdays prevent horrible catastrophes taking place.

Barriss Offee’s descent into despair.

The deaths of so many valiant and virtuous men and women.

Awful tragedies within and without the ranks of the Clone Army and the Jedi Order.

Most importantly… the mess that is Revenge of the Sith.

Because he learned to listen, to think, to be mindful of his thoughts and actions while around the dinner table, Anakin doesn’t let his anger get the better of him in the General’s Quarters aboard the Invisible Hand. He does not bow to the pressure of Palpatine to kill Dooku, instead remaining firm in his Jedi principles and insisting that Dooku be kept in custody. 

Because Barriss Offee never betrayed the order, Ahsoka was never framed. She was never expelled. She remains Anakin’s padawan. And so she continues to attend Taco Tuesdays, and one late night, utterly exhausted and thus lacking the filter formed by a fully-awake and alert mind, she comments that Senator Amidala is looking a bit fuller around the waistline than usual. And suddenly it’s not just Anakin and Padme aware of her pregnancy, it’s three Jedi Masters, a Padawan, and at least seven Clones. 

(Needless to say, everyone privately arrives at the very logical conclusion that Anakin’s the father. But at the moment, there are bigger fish to fry, including winning a war and getting the senator proper medical attention.)

The Council still asks Anakin to keep tabs on Palpatine, and Palpatine still forcefully appoints Anakin to the Council. He is still not made a Master. But years of learning while lounging on Obi-Wan’s couch with a taco in hand to listen, to observe, to be mindful have changed several things about Anakin. For one, he no longer blindly trusts the Chancellor. His observations and his intuition tell him that something about the man cannot be trusted. So he is, in this timeline, less reluctant to keep an eye on Palpatine. And for another, he is more understanding and respectful of the Council’s decisions. He may not personally agree with the decision to withhold the title of Master from him, but he understands that to be on the Council at all is a great honor, and he is hopeful that perhaps, someday, he may achieve the rank of Master through his wisdom. 

Obi-Wan is still sent to Utapau. He still confronts Grievous. Grievous is still killed. But back on Coruscant, something is different. Because, Obi-Wan may not be there at the moment- but, in this timeline, he’s not the lynchpin holding Anakin’s fragile sanity together. In this timeline, Anakin is wise. And in this timeline, he is not haunted by the deaths of his mother. Of the Tuskens. Of Dooku. Of the visions of Padme’s death.

When Palpatine asks Anakin to the Opera, intending to plant the seeds of doubt about his loved ones’ safety in the young Jedi’s mind, Anakin has to politely decline. I’m sorry, Chancellor, he apologizes. But that’s Tuesday night. I already have a commitment to keep. No one hears the Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise that night.

Palpatine is astronomically frustrated. He has no new apprentice. He knows it’s only a matter of time before the Jedi, finishing tending to Dooku’s severed hands, begin to question their prisoner. He knows that his plan is falling apart at the seams. So he makes a final, last ditch effort to bring Anakin to the Dark Side.

He summons Anakin to his office one bright, clear morning. And he reveals that he’s Darth Sidious. He smooth-talks his way through Anakin’s righteous anger, promising him everything the Jedi can give him and more. He will make Anakin a Master. He will make his marriage to Padme safe and known. He will give him unlimited power, and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka can be his right-hand men. They will rule a glorious empire, together.

And perhaps Anakin starts to falter. Perhaps he considers it. Perhaps it truly does tempt him, for though he is wiser in this universe, he is still only a human, proud and prone to selfishness. 

But one thought, only a single thought, crosses his mind.

He asks, “But do the Sith have tacos?”

It is a foolish question, and he knows it. Instantly, his face burns with childish shame. But he was not asking whether or not the Sith can make the Tatooinian staple, not really. He was asking, really, if the Sith can give him the love and warmth and understanding of the weekly dinner meetings. If the Sith can give him a family. If the Sith can touch his soul.

Palpatine is taken aback, for a moment. Then, a smile crosses his face. “Of course,” he promises. And he strides over to his fridge and pulls out… something. A taco, he assures, but in a bag for convenience. And made with high-end, Coruscanti delicacies, not the crude aboriginal toppings of Tatooine.

And Anakin is disgusted. Because this taco is not a taco. Not in the sense that Anakin means. It was mass prepared by droids in a factory, not individually crafted by the hands of someone who knows and loves him. It is filled with bland, blanched pastes, not the symphony of colors and flavors that represent a galaxy of cultures in the palm of his hand. It was made to be nibbled on alone, on the go, not enjoyed with all the people he loves when he made time specifically for them. It is everything that a taco isn’t. It’s empty. Void.

Soulless. Just like the Sith.

Palpatine- rather, Darth Sidious- lies dead at Anakin’s feet, his head cleanly and painlessly severed by an arc of brilliant azure.

With the death of Sidious comes the death of the War. Order 66 never happens. The Jedi Purge never happens. Darth Vader, Ben Kenobi, Fulcrum, and the Rebellion are never born, and Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ahsoka Tano, and Padme Amidala never die. The Empire never rises from the ashes of the Republic. Bail Organa is elected Supreme Chancellor in the wake of Palpatine’s demise, and he ushers the Republic into a new golden age of peace and prosperity. Padme succeeds in convincing the Senate to pass the Clone Rights Bill, and millions of men rejoice as they are free to live as citizens of the Republic. 

And speaking of Padme- nine months have passed. She does not deliver her twins, dying, on a transport ship from Mustafar, but alive, well, and healthy in a hospital on Naboo, just as she had wanted so badly. She names her son Luke, and while Obi-Wan is still the first to hold him, it is not because of Anakin’s absence or Padme’s lack of strength. Anakin is right there, holding his wife’s hand because she still has one more baby to deliver. Obi-Wan is simply giving his assistance to a friend in need. And Anakin names his daughter Leia, and it is Ahsoka who holds her, torn between excited squeals of I get to be an AUNT, good Force she is the cutest little girl and a quiet, hushed reverence for the tiny life she holds in her hands. 

One final note on the Skywalker Family. Now that the War is over, it can be properly addressed: Anakin broke the Jedi Code, not merely by violating his vow of celibacy but by concealing this truth from the Council. Despite all he has done for the Order- which is acknowledged and given its due praise and recognition- he cannot be allowed to remain in it. Yoda, Mace, Aayla, and Obi-Wan- as well as many other Councilmen and Women- all wish it were not so, but the rules are very clear. And yet, Anakin is wise in this universe. He acknowledges his fault and his deception. He humbly accepts his expulsion, because he knows full well that he deserves it. And so he remains on good terms with the entirety of the Jedi Order. He is even allowed to keep his Lightsaber- because, Jedi though he may no longer be, the Force is still with him. And after all, this lightsaber is his life. 

Ahsoka is transferred to Obi-Wan to finish her padawan training. Anakin and Padme retire to Naboo, where they raise Luke and Leia in relative peace- that is to say, as much peace as you can get when your last name is Skywalker. They are happy. They are very happy. The twins love, and are in turn adored by, their Uncle Obi-Wan and Aunt Ahsoka, on their father’s side, and Uncle and Aunt Bail and Breha on their mother’s. They are doted upon by their Grandmother and Grandfather Naberrie (Padme’s parents) and spoiled by their Grandma and Grandpa Shmi and Cliegg, and Aunt and Uncle Beru and Owen. When it is discovered that they are both incredibly Force-Sensitive, Anakin has to practically wrestle the Council to not admit them to the Creche because all his Jedi friends want to train his children. Luke and Leia have, literally, thousands of uncles and/or cousins in the Clones, who are quite protective of their niece and nephew/baby cousins. No one is exactly sure what Satine is to them, but whatever it is, she has been quoted as saying, in private conversation, that she wishes they were hers, so clearly they have a loving relationship.

And when they are old enough to eat solid food, they, too, join the still-continuing throng of family that gather in Obi-Wan and Ahsoka’s living room every Tuesday for Tacos. 

And they love it.

[lightfaithed]

@nieithryn (Cody)

Mos Espa was as busy as always. Beings from all over the galaxy came together for various reasons. Some innocent, but most not so much. It was almost comical how Ben tried his hardest to keep a low profile, and yet each time he heard talks about a new kind of depravity, he couldn't help but to listen in. It was none of his business, the galaxy wasn't his to defend anymore, and yet...

Usually one to stay out of the dangerous, shady side alleys in the spaceport settlement, he found himself trailing two masked men who clearly worked for the Hutts. In a way, eavesdropping was the only way for Ben to hear any kind of news about the galaxy's happenings beyond Tatooine.

They discussed spice shipments, and Ben lost interest. He came to a halt inside the alley, wondering what he was doing. Even after a decade of quiet solitude, he couldn't quell his nature. He ought to leave the alley and return to the main market street, because remaining where he was, was just begging for a robbery.

[deadstarsrisingsblog]

Cody spends his first few weeks on Tatooine jumping at shadows and vehemently cursing Bail Organa in as many languages as his tragically limited vocabulary will allow.

‘Find Ben, don’t die’ is not a mission brief, it’s a gods’ damned fool’s errand. Which is how Cody ends up spending a month sweating in the market in Mos Espa, tucked beside an elderly Togruta on a rickety bench with a multitool in one hand, a subspace radio in the other, and a skewer of hot, spiced meat caught between his teeth.

He’s no closer to finding this Ben than he is to fixing the damn radio.

[kalak]

Luke skywalker experiences weird space stereotypes I've decided. He goes to a core world space restaurant and the waiter asks him if he'd like a tatooine special. He asks why that menu exists in the first place and what the special even is and the waiter answers that 1) it's because he's famous so everyone wants a piece of that exotic tatooine meat and 2) it's fried womp rat

Luke goes ..huh. We don't eat womp rat. To be specific, they do eat womp rat, but only the older demographic who thinks the meat is good for your bones. Back in like 22bby on mos espa there was a big snake oil scheme where merchants bought up womp rats at a cheap price and then resold it with a huge markup by marketing it as a health product. The womp rat craze got picked up by local media and tatooine is seen as the planet that eats local pests now.

Luke did try it once when he sold some of the womp rats he killed to a vendor and the vendor gave him some cooked meat back as a tip, he spit it right back out because it was too bland and chewy.

Luke's like. Are the people of tatooine seen as rat eaters now. Is this my legacy. The waiter answers that they do have some blue milk to wash down the tatooine special if he'd like and he perks rigjt back up

[thirsty-boba-fett-posts]

Part III of Bounty of the Desert - see Masterlist for previous installments

Based on the results of THIS VERY SCIENTIFIC POLL, readers chosen a name for Fruit Merchant Princess - y’all have dubbed her Mor Halcorr. Henceforth she shall be referred to by her first name instead of just she/her, greatly improving the quality of my prose.

tw: smut because these two idiots can’t flirt circles around each other forever

It’s 5:30am and I don’t feel like proofreading.

If pressed, Boba Fett would admit that she was certainly comely but that it her relationship to the Tuskens came as no surprise - Mor was, after all, a pleasant, unassuming girl with a friendly, open face who grew up on The Dune Sea. The Tuskens were notorious for their hostility towards outsiders, but had been known to develop informal handshake trade agreements with individuals or smaller parties.

If pressed, he would refer to her as a sweet but unremarkable girl, but be careful to add that she’d be a fine addition to any of the wealthy merchant (or crime) families on Tatooine.

If pressed, he would express admonishment at her mother for keeping Mor at the fruit stand when she’d proven that she was perfectly capable of handling herself at the palace on Tribute Day. Porglettes can’t stay in the nest forever. Not that Bayata should get any ideas, but he wouldn’t mind seeing her at the formal meeting of the guild heads.

He would not under any circumstances that didn’t involve a few rounds of strong Corellian whiskey admit that he was utterly infatuated with her - that when Mor’s clear, bright eyes found him in the market as she absentmindedly sipped black melon milk (from a straw, no less) that he could not stop himself from smiling warmly at her and signing a Tusken greeting, which she always returned. As the Daimyo of Mos Espa in the middle of a steadily heating conflict with the Pykes, he had little room in his day for anything but political machinations and violence, but were she to show any interest, he would spring his little porglette from her parents’ fruit stall and start every Tribute Day by bending her over the arm of his throne.

…

It was Boonta’s Eve and citizens of Mos Espa, although no longer laboring under the yoke of a Hutt, were generally not the kind of people who turn down a halfway decent excuse to have a good time. The Sanctuary was so busy that the part spilled out into the street where revelers threw dice and danced to buskers with more enthusiasm than musical talent.

Bayata and Iakor were making the rounds and dragging their truculent daughter along with them. Boba Fett was reluctantly gladhanding with out-of-towners and off-worlders-when Mor managed to catch his eye from the bar.

“Rescue me,” she signed in Tusken, nodding her head towards her mother who was just about to introduce her to some prominent looking gentleman and his lanky, knobby looking son.

The little porglette wanted him to bail her out, he thought.

“You’ll owe me,” he signed.

“Anything,” she signed back urgently before her attention was pulled away by the niceties of introductions.

Ah well, now he had her.

…

“Lord Fett! So good to see you!” Bayata nearly squealed when she saw him approaching.

“It’s good to see you enjoying the festivities, Bayata, but if you don’t mind - I have business with your daughter,” Boba replied, striking the perfect balance between appropriately jovial and nonchalant.

Her eyebrows raised in surprise and delight. Ever the opportunist, thought Boba.

“Thank you,” Mor signed discreetly behind her mother’s back.

“Of course, Lord Fett! She’s all yours!”

Boba Fett held out his arm and Mor took it with a guilty smirk.

He steered her towards one of the large verandas, stopping on the way to order them both drinks. The veranda was quiet and Mor seemed visibly relieved now that he had the opportunity to get a good look at her. She exhaled a deep sigh and closed her eyes as a cool breeze blew in from The Dune Sea.

“You don’t seem at all keen to settle down with any of the fine young men your mother has in mind for you,” he observed.

“Did that gangly womp rat look like a ‘fine young man’ to you?” she asked.

He chortled heartily.

“Thank you for rescuing me and giving my mother some cud to chew,” she said, quite genuinely. “You’re better company than some stuffy politician’s son.”

“Oh am I?” he asked.

“Yes, of course. He looked about as much fun as a kowakian monkey-lizard living in a Hutt’s skinfolds.”

The comparison made him bellow with laughter.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, I’ll give you that Porglette!”

“PORGLETTE?” she exclaimed with mock indignation.

…

A few glasses of dry tatooine white wine managed to file down some of Mor’s sharp edges and Boba, sensing the same vulnerability she’d displayed after coming back from trading with the Tuskens, offered her a soft place to land. She was such a prickly little porglette, but he knew she was just guarding her downy little porg belly from potential harm. He decided to be direct with her.

“Come back to the palace with me, porglette. Spend the night in my bed and let me show you what a man with experience can offer you.”

Her eyes widened and she gave the smallest gasp before placing both palms on the chest plate of his armor and resting her forehead on his shoulder.

“Yes please.”

…

The two of them barely made it up the spiral stone stairs to Boba Fett’s private chambers. Boba shed is armor in between placing wet kisses at the junction between her neck and shoulders.

Once he had her on the bed caged between his powerful forearms and pinned under his pelvis with her legs wrapped around him, he paused and stroked her hair.

“Listen to me, little one. How about you stop all this foolishness and come live here at the palace.”

She understood what he meant - stop all this foolishness of dodging her mother, give in to her powerful attraction to the Daimyo, and live the life she was meant to with someone who understands her.

He could see the gears turning in Mor’s head and without thinking reached down between them to lovingly stroke her stomach. His little porglette was so worried about what would happen if she allowed herself to be resistless. She whined and pulled him close.

“You’ll take care of me?”

“That’s what I’m offering, mesh’la.”

“Yes, that’s what I want,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder.

He flipped them both over so that she was straddling him and slipped her dress over her head. She was soft and biddable under his hands and he wanted to give her every conceivable reason to continue to trust him.

He reached down between them and felt the wetness between her legs. She was ready for him.

She took the length of him in her hand and stroked tentatively. He rewarded her initiative by kissing her forehead and squeezing the back of her neck.

“You’re mine, aren’t you little porglette?”

“How much longer do you think you’ll be able to call me porglette and get away with it?”

He chuckled and slapped her ass. She yelped and giggled, then moaned as he began kneading the soft dimpled flesh of her butt cheeks.

“Put me inside of you and I’ll call you whatever you want, mesh’la.”

She did as she was told and as she sank down onto the hard, thick length of him they both moaned in unison. She needed a moment to adjust to his girth and he took the opportunity to run his hands up and down her thighs. She brought her body down to lay on his broad chest and he canted his hips to stay inside of her and he put his arms around her. He thought initially that she would want to set the pace of the encounter, but now she seemed to need something different.

“Do you want me to take control, little one?”

She nodded with the side of her face against his chest and tucked her arms under his shoulders.

He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head as he very slowly began moving inside of her. She sighed softly and relaxed against him. He took his time with her, thrusting at a leisurely pace and occasionally reaching down to knead one of her ass cheeks. She made delightful noises against his chest and he felt the desperate closeness of her orgasm building in her belly. The pace and strength of his thrusting increased and he held her face against his chest, kissing the top of her head and she came. He was not far behind and grunted as she squeezed ever last drop of cum out of him.

Knowing she would need reassurance afterwards, he pulled a soft bantha hide over them and held her tightly. She seemed to want to bury herself in his chest. For all her prickly sass, she was the same nervous girl he’d met on his first Tribute Day. He turned onto his side and tucked her into his body with her back to him. He moved her hair and kissed the back of her neck, and in response she squeezed his forearms.

“This is where you belong, little one.”

“I know, Daimyo.”

…

@daimyosprincess

@dukeoftheblackstar

@nintendobl00d

@acatalystrising

@ladytano420

[sw5w]

Qui-Gon's Back

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:36:44

Fun little detail I threw in: I chose the name of this shot as a nod to the old Decipher CCG cards from the Premiere set... Luke's Back, Leia's Back, Han's Back

[burnwater13]

Peli Motto and Din Djarin riding in the droid driven cart through the streets of Mos Espa (Grogu is out of sight), while returning fire on the Pyke syndicate members attacking the city. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 7, In the Name of Honor. Calendar by DateWorks.

The ride through the market streets of Mos Espa was just about the most exciting thing Grogu had done in weeks. People were firing weapons at them. The droid that was pulling the cart was careening down the streets at a high speed. Peli was yelling something at someone. And he was back with dad, the Mandalorian. Yippee!

He’d spent the prior weeks at Luke’s Jedi Sleep Away Camp and it was anything but exciting. Meditation. Lectures. Nature walks. Okay, the nature walks weren’t bad, but then the Kid would on and on about ancient Jedi rules, practices, theories, and all the stuff Grogu had already learned on Coruscant. Wow. That had been dull the first time and now he had go through those same materials with the Kid as if it was fresh and new because that’s what you did for a padawan. 

Grogu knew that Luke’s heart was in the right place. He really wanted to be a Jedi like Obi-Wan Kenobi, or Mace Windu, or Plo Koon. It was a noble endeavor. The Kid had some talent and he was willing to do the work. Well, most of the work. He was still really caught up about discipline and attachment and all that sort of thing. Apparently he hadn’t started his training until he was well past the age of a youngling, and he’d been told many times that he had to control his emotions, especially fear and anger. 

Anger, Grogu could understand. To master your anger took time and practice. To let all the petty things go. To remember that the things that provoked you to anger said more about the person saying or doing them than it said about you. That was tricky. That’s why meditation was important, especially when you were a youngling. But the Kid wasn’t a youngling and he still meditated all the time and didn’t seem to help him much. 

Grogu determined that Luke also struggled with fear. Most Jedi did, younglings, knights, masters… it didn’t matter. Fear never left you. You battled it everyday. The problem was that the Kid hadn’t really understood that you don’t master fear. You can’t strike at it with a lightsaber. You do just the opposite. You accept it. You feel it. You know that it is there and then you move on. You do what you need to any way. 

It was a pity that the Jedi and the Mandalorians had such a long history of not getting along. The Mandalorians could teach the Jedi a thing or two about fear. It was clear to Grogu after even a brief time with Din Djarin, that the bounty hunter understood fear better than any Jedi Master who had taught him. The focus on the mission was so clear, so real, so meaningful, that Mandalorians brought fear with them wherever they went, not to frighten other people, but as a reminder of why what they did mattered so much. Rather than being a burden it was like another set of armor. The Kid did not understand that. 

You can’t just walk into a mudhorn cave looking for it’s eggs thinking that was like shopping in a market square. Far from it. And then you get battered, tossed, stepped on, and worse, but you don’t stop. The mission matters more. Fear reminds you of the mission so you carry on. Okay, that time the Mandalorian had carried on with a little help from Grogu, but Grogu didn’t really want to see the human squashed. He’d seen stuff like that before and it was really hard to heal. 

You also can’t tell an ex-Imperial Warlord that they better watch out because you were coming after them for something they took from you and you just weren’t having it without being at least a tiny bit afraid. Even when you have other Mandalorians with you. Even when you have a drop trooper and the best that ever was assassin traveling as part of your strike force. But Din Djarin hadn’t hesitated to threaten Moff Gideon. He knew the other man was afraid of being challenged. Afraid of losing even more of his power. Afraid of failing. Afraid of everything. Yup. Grogu and the Mandalorian knew that Moff  Gideon was driven by fear and that was his greatest failing. 

Grogu knew that he had to find the Mandalorian and see if Din Djarin could teach his padawan how to better understand and handle fear. Grogu knew it was important to find the master that matched the padawan and he had recognized that he and Luke were not a great match. Particularly when the young human tried to give him a choice between remaining at the Sleep Away Camp or returning to his family. Of course Grogu was going to return. Sleep Away Camp was supposed to be a time to have some fun, a small adventure or two, and just relax. Everyone needed time to do stuff like that. Even Luke. 

Now, he was on that crazy cart with his dad and Peli with the syndicates attacking them and the citizenry taking up arms and fighting back and honestly it felt like home. Sure, he was afraid that bad things would happen. They were clearly already happening. But he also knew that he could use that fear as a shield. A reminder that they had a mission and when they completed it they could catch their breath, eat some dung worms and catch up on everything that had happened while he was away at camp. 

Maybe he should have brought his padawan with him… Luke could have used a break too.

[100lxtters]

The green armoured Daimyo

CHAPTER 1 / THE DAY IT STARTED

!! THIS STORY IS FOR 18+ VIEWING ONLY, MINORS DNI !!

AO3 I Masterlist

Fic masterlist I Next chap

You were just a cleaner at Garsa's Sanctuary when news broke of the new Daimyo who came into town, upon meeting him you realise the power he holds go further then just running Mos Espa. Luckily for you Boba Fett seems to take some interest in you, and you of course take the offer !! Reader is in her 20s !!

Boba Fett x f!reader 8.4k words It was a normal night at the Sanctuary, but news of Fortuna's death arrived and changes were about to happen to Mos Espa Dom! Boba Fett x sub! Reader Chapter warnings: Alcohol mention, masturbation Mando'a translations: mesh'la - beautiful

...........................................................

The day it happened will forever be burnt into your brain, in everyway possible.

You are on your shift, grabbing the tubes to rinse the next glass that's lined up next to the other 10. It was a busy night in the Sanctuary, Garsa managed to advertise tonight's event to even citizens on the edge of Mos Espa. The cantina was full of people shouting and cheering, drinking while laughing, in the background was Max and the band playing quietly, well they weren't exactly playing quietly, the cantina was just that loud they were being drowned out.

The kitchen was usually the quietest place here simply so you staff could hear each other if needed. As you placed the last glass down for drying you washed your hands to rid of the cleaning chemicals you just used, you could hear the buzz of the street lamps humming off the side of the building as it came through the wide window in the kitchen, giving a weird comfort sound.

You had been working in the cantina for a couple of years now, you moved to Tatooine out of fear, you had basically ran away from home. Well, ran away from the new corrupt government that was coming in. Everyone had thought that now the Empire was gone you would all be safe and free to do as you wished, until people took advantage of the empty space of government. Your parents were against it, which lead them to a tragic end, there was no point in staying there anymore, everyone you loved was gone.

Tatooine would not have been your first choice, who in their right mind would come to this dump of a planet? But that is also exactly why you came here, you would be left alone, free to find a new start in life.

It was by chance you started working here. You were going into every cantina, every shop, every market stall, and every mechanic begging for work, but no one would take you. When you came across the Sanctuary you felt out of place, everyone in here was dressed in these beautiful clothes and clearly had more than enough money.

Then she appeared, Garsa Fwip.

She was wearing this beautiful light blue dress that tied around her neck, and having matching blue fabric around her head-tails, she was absolutely stunning.

''Welcome to the Sanctuary, how can I help you today?'' Her voice was so calm, but so questioning. A feeling of judgment was coming off customers as your clothes were not the type you would wear in somewhere like this, however no judgement from her.

''I was wondering if I could speak to who is in charge?'' You asked, earning a smile and raised eyebrows ''that would be me'' Garsa replies.

You blink a couple of times, feeling stupid even though how could you have possibly known who she was. ''Oh, I'm sorry, I was just wondering if you were hiring? Please, I can do anything, I'm begging just give me a chance. I-I can't live on what I've got and I can't go home-''

''Can you clean?'' Her soft voice asks, cutting off your ramble. You nod quickly, not wanting to lose the chance. ''Well, we have just had a new job opportunity in the kitchen, somebody recently left to start their own new life too.''

Tears start to well up in your eyes, the overwhelming feeling of someone finally hiring you after days of rejection. ''Thank you'' you whisper, fear of sobbing in the middle of the cantina. Her hand reached out to your arm, stroking it and guiding you towards the back.

''Let's get you sorted so you can start tomorrow, does that sound okay?'' She asked, and all you can do is nod in return. Her hands soothing your arms, calming you and welcoming you into her world.

Ever since then you have worked happily in the kitchen, hearing the same buzzing sounds every night that almost sooth you, a reminder that you have a better life then you would have if you stayed at home.

You were smiling to yourself, drying your hands, thankful no one else was in the corner of the sink currently. Allowing yourself to be in your own thoughts.

Suddenly, there was footprints moving quickly past the window, the music in the cantina had quietened. What was going on?

Curiosity came over you. You dropped the towel you were drying your hands on, and left through the staff door that went onto the streets. Following the crowd and noticing everyone was gathered in an area down the street.

When you reached where everyone had stopped, you stood on your tip-toes to see what they were surrounding. It seemed they were all looking at someone, a young blue Twi'lek woman.

Chains hanging from her wrists, barefooted, sitting in the cool Tatooine sand while everyone just stared her.

Her outfit looked like the slave outfits from Jabba's Palace, the chains kind of confirmed this, was she a run away slave? Or had she been set free? But Fortuna doesn't seem like the type to allow slaves to leave.

''Are you okay?''

''Aren't you from the Palace?''

''Where did you come from?!''

''How are you here?''

''Should we take her back to the Palace?''

''Hey, tell us where you came from!''

Questions where swimming in the air around this woman, who had yet to say much. Everyone was barking questions at her, demanding answers, but she was in silence while tears stained her face.

Her eyes glued to the chains dangling from her wrists. She was in a state of shock, both good and bad it seemed. Like a sense of relief had almost came over her.

Yet no one was actually trying to help her.

You pushed your way through the crowd, not caring what anyone around you thought. When you reached the front of the crowd it was easier to see her situation and how she was acting better. She was shaking, even in the heat, emotions coursing through her.

Slowly you knelt down next to her, her eyes slowing moving towards you, a slight hint of fear in them. Just like everyone else you clearly had no idea who she was or where she came from, but you felt extremely sympathetic towards her. Whatever had happened with her was clearly somewhat traumatic by the way she was acting, so you felt the need to help.

You knew what it felt to be helpless whilst everyone just watched.

The crowds eyes were digging into your back, but you had no care, no one else was trying to help her.

''Hey, are you okay? Do you want some help to safety?'' You ask her in a calm voice, knowing that she might not answer you, but wanting her to know you wish to help. Some people around you had quietened down, defiantly to overhear anything she says. You reached your hand out, hovering of her shoulder, not wanting to touch her in-case it made her uncomfortable.

''H-he's dead'' her soft, shaky voice said. ''Who?'' If she was from the Palace then there was only really one answer, and you knew what it would be.

''Lord Fortuna, he's... dead'' she said.

There were gasps in the crowd, everyone shocked that Bib Fortuna could actually be gone. The terrible, undeserved, selfish leader who took everything Jabba the Hutt owned in days, was finally gone.

But then the new question lingered, 'how was he dead? And who killed him?'

Like sure, he wasn't in good health, in the five years he was Daimyo he became so lazy and would constantly have his droids make him food. But this clearly wasn't his health that killed him down to the fact that this Twi'lek was here, clearly been freed.

The crowd then started barking questions about the events, some seeming to blame her for whatever reason.

Your hand lands on her shoulder gently and say ''hey, it's gonna be okay, you're safe now.''

''Come here child'' you hear from the outside of the crowd. People clear the way and your boss is stood there, with a understanding smile on her face.

Everyone quietened down, not daring to talk back to her.

''We can take care of you, lets get some food and water into you, and get you cleaned up out of those chains'' Garsa's soft voice says as she gets closer. The young woman reaches her hand up to hold Garsa's, you help her up in the prosses until she is in reach.

You watch her cling onto the older Twi'lek's arm, slowly walking back to the Sanctuary, back to safety. The crowd just watching, some still asking what happened as they walked by, but Garsa waves her hand saying ''let the poor girl rest, she is free now and that is what is most important. We will find out what happened to Lord Fortuna in due time.''

With that the crowd slowly disperses, while you're still kneeling in the sand thinking about the events that just happened.

Did that woman run the whole way from the Palace? Why did they allow her to leave? Who is this person who most likely killed Fortuna?

For the rest of your shift you can't help shake your thoughts. Garsa had took the blue Twi'lek into the private washrooms that are usually for the staff, a couple of other co-workers went off to help too by bringing a plate of food and many bottles of water. All night costumers have been basically begging the staff for information, about what happened, but obviously no answers were given for the sake of the woman's own privacy, and also due to none of you having a full idea on the events anyway.

Luckily by working in the kitchen you have been left alone by nosey costumers, only hearing your fellow co-workers complain. Of course you yourself were curious, but it feels like in the next couple of days Fortuna's killer will make some sort of announcement and claim the throne.

Honestly you were just curious on who was brave enough to get into that Palace to do it all. It's impressive either way.

Once your shift had ended you went to Garsa's office, mainly to check on the younger Twi'lek. It was so quiet in these back corridors, obviously to not disturb any work that happened back here. You felt silly, like you were being nosey, but then again you were the one who knelt down and spoke to the woman earlier, offering help when no one else did.

You knock on the office door to hear a quiet who's there from Garsa. When you say your name she comes to open the door, with a forced smile on her face. ''Everything okay?''

''Hi, yeah I don't mean to intrude, but I just wanted to check everything and see how she is'' you replied, hoping you don't sound nosey and annoying. Garsa opens the door wider to allow you in and then shuts it behind you.

''Thank you'' the young Twi'lek says in a very soft and tired voice. You look at her with concerned eyes, ''thank you for trying... to help earlier, everyone else j-just felt like they want to know how a- how a... slave was free.''

She was clearly getting choked up on her words; you'd not considered that part of it, how scary being a freed slave must be. Obviously being a slave would be a hard life, but being seen as a run away or freed slave?

The fear of someone throwing you back into that business must be a whole new fear.

''It was the least I could do'' you smiled softly at her.

She was wearing more comfortable clothing now, the chains nowhere to be seen. A more relaxed look on her face compared to earlier, but still that hint of fear still in her eyes.

''It seems like it was someone Fortuna knew who killed him'' Garsa said, your head whipped around to her, so she had some answers then? You raised an eyebrow, hoping she would tell you more.

''There were two of them, a woman who seemed like a bounty hunter. She appeared first taking everyone by shock, shooting a couple of guests, but she was also the one who freed our guest here. Then there was apparently another person, a man she thinks. He didn't say anything before Fortuna briefly spoke to him and he shot him in the chest, but that was all she saw'' Garsa informed you.

You stood there for a moment processing it. ''So they were both bounty hunters? Then Fortuna had maybe wronged them?'' You asked, knowing no one knew this answer than the two who now control the Palace.

Garsa shrugged ''I guess we'll find out more soon enough. Whoever this man is, he will announce himself as the new Daimyo sooner rather then later.''

There is a weird type of tension in the air, no one really sure what to say.

What was going to happen now?

Your name is said so you turn your head back to your boss ''you should go home, rest. There will be no need to stress over this'' she rests her hand on your shoulder and gives you a warm smile. You return the smile and nod, you then turn to the woman and give her a smile too.

The walk back home is full of many thoughts, thinking of what Garsa said to you. She knows about home, you told her pretty much instantly since she asked why you were in a rush for job. There was never any judgement, but this current situation was reminding you of home. Not wanting to have to leave another planet out of fear of war and being killed.

When you reach your small apartment you don't even bother to turn any lights on, you strip of your work clothes and climb into bed, the air now getting too warm to sleep wearing any clothes.

As you drift off you try to calm your troubling thoughts, reminding yourself that you haven't even met this new 'ruler' and what his rule will be like.

*****

It's been a couple weeks now since the new Daimyo came into town. You have since learnt the names of the two people who killed and overturned Fortuna.

Boba Fett and Fennec Shand.

You thought at first it was a joke, you had heard the rumours and stories of the feared bounty hunter Boba Fett. The man in Mandalorian armour, who worked in the criminal underworld but also for the Empire, the man who was feared across the galaxy. Yet he was swallowed by a Sarlacc the day Jabba the Hutt died. He had died that day too, or so everyone had thought.

Now Fennec Shand, you don't think you'd ever heard of her before. Since finding out about her you learnt she was a bounty hunter back during the Clone Wars and early days of the Empire, and also an elite mercenary, master assassin who worked for the top crime syndicates too. You were surprised to find out you had never heard of her, regardless of how young you are.

The young Twi'lek they had freed left the Sanctuary a week ago, Garsa had found her somewhere to stay with someone trustworthy. She, obviously, was sceptical at first, but she seems to trust Garsa and took her word for it.

Honestly, there has been such an odd atmosphere around Mos Espa since Boba Fett came, you still haven't quite relaxed yet. Like why did a bounty hunter want to rule here? What is the motive? These unanswered questions were sitting with you weirdly and they had yet to be answered.

You tried to take your mind off it as you got ready for work, throwing on your long black skirt and white shirt, shoving your black apron into your bag then heading off for work.

The heat of the twin suns comes down on you during your walk, you wonder how anyone can mange to wear so many layers of clothing on this planet. It took you a good few months to get adjusted to the weather here, constant heat, only slightly cooling down at night. Whenever you weren't working you tried to stick to dresses and short skirts, one annoying thing about your uniform was the skirt was long.

As you get towards the Sanctuary you notice the main path is different then usual, there's people tidying up and you assume a fight must have happened. There were tables overthrown, carts tipping up with fruit falling out. People are crowded into small groups, quietly gossiping between themselves.

You turn your head to look at the building a few people were pointing at and on the side of one is a burn mark, like a small explosion happened. Part of the building is missing, causing a small pile of rubble to form on the ground below.

Your eyes are almost popping out your head, has shit already gone down? Was this the Daimyo's doing? Are people rebelling?

A million thoughts go through your head as you speed up to the staff door, clutching your bag tight.

Throughout the whole cantina there is chatter, no music playing at all. Everyone in the kitchen is trying to work fast to make drinks and food. ''Hey guys, what happened out there?'' You asked, trying to mask your worry.

''You didn't hear?'' One guy says, you shake your head no. ''A group of assassins were trying to kill the Daimyo!'' One girl shouts. ''It was crazy'' another adds. ''Yeah if it weren't for his Gamorrean guards they both would've been dead'' someone else says.

''Did you see Lord Fett blow up that one on the side of the building?! It was terrifying!'' Is that what the burn mask was? Someone being blown up?!

''No it wasn't, it was so cool! Shows his power!''

Your breathing was shaky and heavy, you didn't want to have to leave planet, but this was starting to sound like home in the worse ways. You didn't want to watch a civil war to kick off again.

''Guys, can we bring some snacks out for the guests please, let's try to distract them'' the green Twi'lek appears snapping you out of your thoughts. He and the yellow Twi'lek are Garsa's assistants, so what they say goes. Everyone stopped chatting and picked up trays then started flowing out the doors.

Taking a deep breath in to try and calm yourself, you go to find your locker to get started for todays shift. As you walk towards the locker room you see Garsa, she was slightly chewing on her nails, a worried looked painted across her face.

''What happened earlier?'' You asked her in panic, her hand dropping from her mouth as she looked at you, putting on a fake smile.

''Our new Daimyo, Lord Fett, payed us a visit earlier. He wanted to see how business was going and to introduce himself, the pair of them seem like nice enough people, they actually walked here instead of being carried on a litter like Jabba used to'' she slightly laughed, ''they didn't stay for long, we of course put some credits in his helmet as a sign of respect. He left happily to carry on introducing himself to fellow businesses, and that's when everything went a different direction. A group of assassins appeared out of nowhere and attacked them both, if it wasn't for his Gamorrean guards then they both would've been dust in the sand.''

''Who were these assassins?'' You asked, wondering if she would have any idea who could've done this.

''Can't say I know, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was one of the other Syndicates who sent them, some of them have been displeased since Lord Fett came into town.''

Pondering her response in silence, trying to understand what she was hinting, would one of the Syndicates dare do something this bold to the new Daimyo?

You weren't sure how everything really worked on this planet, and honestly you never really cared enough to find out. Everything you needed to know always came from Garsa, always trusting her word and judgement. The politics on every planet was so different, and Tatooine was in such an odd area with stuff.

''Anyway'' she said, forcing a smile back onto her face, ''there is no point in worrying about it, they both made it back to the Palace safe and Lord Fett is getting any treatment he needs.''

Nodding you reply, ''well that's good I guess, I just hope they find out who sent them soon. I don't want to watch fights unfold'' slightly laugh out of awkwardness, old memories trying to sneak back in.

Garsa's hands rub your arms ''you're safe here, nothing bad will happen, I promise child.'' You smile at each other before you pull away to carry on getting ready for your shift.

The shift just dragged, hearing everyone complain about getting bombarded with questions about earlier events. It was impossible to get your mind off it, stuck in constant worry. You wish you were able to go straight up to Boba Fett and ask him what his plans with Mos Espa was, and if it would be peaceful.

The next morning you were woken by low drumming. You groaned at first thinking it was an alarm, reaching over to turn it off, but as your hand reached it you realised you weren't due to wake up for a while still.

The drumming continued, like it was traveling through the city.

You wanted to look outside and see what was happening, but you were paralyzed with fear, unable to get out of your bed. People weren't screaming in fear, so you hoped that the drumming meant nothing bad, but there also wasn't anyone cheering to encourage it being good.

What did this mean? This was new, Garsa had never told you about any of this. In the years you'd lived here you had never experienced this. You weren't sure if you were overreacting to this or not.

Then, the drumming stopped.

The city was still silent. You finally managed to peel back the covers, and slowly got out of bed to look out the window. Some people were just wondering around, like nothing was happening, and then some people were standing around trying to look at something. You weren't sure what or where.

You throw some clothes on, just a light blue knee high dress and boots, then hype yourself up to go outside. Following the streets to where you could see people crowded, noticing them all watching something.

This could be a bad idea, you could die, but you also felt like whatever was happening wasn't too bad.

Before you know it the drumming is back, you move towards the closet building for support, like it would hide you. People start moving out the way for something, and there it was.

Two Hutts, on a litter, drums around them playing.

Why were the Hutts here? Especially now? Jabba died five years ago, unless this was about Fortuna and Fett?

Your eyes are glued to them, one seemed to be wiping its head with a small animal using it like a rag, he other was using a very small fan to cool down its body. You still haven't moved away from the wall, watching them from a distance, moving very slowly. Heart arching for the people carrying the litter, imagining how heavy one Hutt must be, unable to think about two.

Once they finally move out the way you look at what direction they appeared from, your heart sinks when you noticed. They were coming from the Sanctuary.

Unsure where to go now, just watching the crowd of people and staring at the street the Hutt's just went down. Part of you wanted to check on the cantina and find out what happened, but part of you just wanted to stay put. Once again, almost stuck with fear. You hated this.

Everyone around you had gone back to normal, you assumed this must just be 'normal' then. Maybe this is what Garsa meant yesterday about how Fett didn't come in on a litter, about how when Jabba did it it was considered normal?

You don't know, completely lost in thoughts, letting time pass you by.

Taking a deep breath in, you finally get the courage to go to the Sanctuary. Your feet refuse to go quick, walking up the almost empty pathway. The door is in your sight and from what you can see everything is normal in there, already hearing Max and the band, a good sign.

As you walk through the doors you hear Garsa's beautiful voice say your name, you look towards her and give her a slight smile. ''Why are you here at this hour? You should be resting'' the care in her voice brings you so much warmth.

''Those damn Hutt's woke me with their drums'' you reply, slightly laughing because how would they not have woken you. She nods, laughing herself. ''Speaking of, why were they here?''

She looks at you like you should know, ''Lord Fett, of course'' the tiredness coming through. The reply doesn't surprise you since you yourself had suspected it. This is when you realise she is still in yesterdays clothes, has she been here all night?

''Garsa, have you slept yet?'' Worrying for your bosses health and wellbeing.

A scoff escapes her, ''not had the chance yet, since last night I got news of the Twin Hutt's laying claim to this territory and where on their way. Before I had chance to even think of going home Lord Fett and Mistress Shand turned up, demanding answers since the Mayor wants to put this on my head'' the annoyance in her voice coming out at the end of the sentence. You can understand it though, why was the Mayor trying to involve her?

''But anyway, I informed Lord Fett on this and as I did so the Twins turned up. We all watched from inside here, they seemed to threaten him and have Black Krrsantan on their side too, as a bodyguard almost'' she carries on, but that name goes over your head, she says it so casually you feel like you're meant to know who that is.

She sighs and slowly moves towards the back offices with you to carry on talking. ''In some better news, we have an opportunity tonight. Lord Fett has requested our services in the Palace'' she says as she shuts the staff door. You rise an eyebrow at her ''what do you mean?''

''Due to the way some of the Syndicates have been acting, and now this situation with the Hutt's, he wants to hold a party in the Palace to allow the community to get to know him. See what type of Daimyo he is to the people of Mos Espa'' she stops at her office, looking at you with a sparkle in her eyes, ''he wants to hire some of the kitchen and bar staff for the night, and if all goes well he wants to give some job opportunities for people too.''

''And I was wondering if you would come tonight? Since you are our best cleaner'' she laughs.

''Will you be there?'' You ask, wanting to know if there will be a familiar face there to ground you, otherwise you might spiral due to this changing your days plan.

''Of course I will be, I'm curious on what Mistress Shand does on her space time'' Garsa smirks. You giggle and ask ''why do you want to know? Is she a beautiful lady?''

You watch blush sneak onto your bosses cheeks, and you can't help but laugh. In the years you've known Garsa now you've never seen her react this way to a woman, sure you've seen her blush and giggle with other women, but to this extent? Oh, she was crushing!

''Aww, well yes I will defiantly come tonight now as I need to watch you gush over her'' you smirk.

Plus, you'd like to get a chance to see what type of ruler Boba Fett will be.

You head home to get ready for tonight, since you are cleaning crew you don't have to get there until an hour beforehand. The dress code was to dress nice, but basically wear an apron over it.

When you jump out the shower you search your closet for an outfit, letting your wet hair drip down your back. The outfit you pick out is a knee length, dark green dress that hugged your body so your apron would fit comfortably over it, and a pair of brown ankle boots. You thought why not show off all your body to others, you don't get many opportunities to nowadays to meet new people.

Garsa had got a vehicle for you all to travel there in since not all of you owned your own, including yourself. Plus it meant no-one was covered in sand when turning up to the Palace.

The trip there was chatty, everyone gossiping between themselves. Some wondering what the night would entail, others just wondering what the Palace is like as none of you have been.

You had been told how large the Dune Sea was, but until now you didn't know, you have never left Mos Espa in the time you'd lived here. The endless sands passing you by, bringing a weird anxiety with the sights.

Nothing but the sands for miles and miles.

The thoughts of that young Twi'lek woman walking the whole way through this saddens you, you wonder how long is must have taken for her to get to safety.

All thoughts are broken when you see the Palace come into view. The wider tower coming into view first, a small one to the side and a larger one peaking from behind. The red and dark brown stone covering the building, defiantly damage from decades of burning under the suns.

The whole vehicle going quiet in awe, this was really happening, we were working in this Palace tonight.

Garsa greats you all at the entrance as the vehicles comes to a stop. She had came earlier with the cooking and bar crew to help them settle in easier. The group of you are guided into the Palace with Garsa at the front, allowing her to show you all the way.

Considering this place was a Palace it didn't over-ally seem that way, no sign of 'royalty'. Your eyes are just staring at the interior, the design was odd, you wonder if this was Jabba, Fortuna or Fett's choice of design.

The Palace was massive, obviously you knew that from the exterior, but being inside you felt tiny and almost insignificant. The building held so much power, but also some despair too. The memories of the multiple rulers who have probably lived here, claiming the territory across the sea for decades.

There were so many shady and sketchy corners, most likely where hunters used to chat and do dodgy deals. You wonder how much of the bounty hunter world carried on through here, if it all changed when Fett became in charge. Sure it changed when Fortuna was in charge, but he wasn't a hunter himself, just a lazy majordomo.

So far you were yet to see anyone, no staff, no guards, and obviously no hunters.

Part of you wondered what must go on in this Palace, did they have any activates to kill time? Surely it must be boring having meetings after meetings constantly.

You realise you've reached a set of slightly twirling stairs, watching your group descend first. You are the last person in the group now due to walking slower to take in your surroundings, and being lost in your own thoughts.

''Lord Fett, the rest of Madam Garsa's crew is here'' you hear a smelter droid say as Garsa starts to reach the bottom of the stairs.

Panic starts rising in you, you really are about to meet the Boba Fett, the feared and ruthless bounty hunter, the man who should be dead but here he is. The legends and stories you had heard of this man has you scared, but also so curious.

As you turn the last bit of the stairs you can see the platform the throne sits on, a pair of boots parted. The famous green armour comes into your view, a Mandalorian helmet staring at you all.

You keep walking, and everyone has stopped in front of him, waiting to be addressed. Eyes are glued to him, taking him in.

His legs are parted, one gloved hand resting on his right thigh, the other sitting on the arm rest. His armour is scratched in a few areas on his chest, the only armour on his lower half seeming to be on his knees. You can see how broad his shoulders are, so much muscle and power holding in them.

The belt has so many little gadgets hanging off it, you wonder what each of them do. You notice his stomach is slightly hanging over the top of the belt, but not in a way it was being uncomfortable on his body.

Your eyes move to his gauntlets on his arms when you catch a shine on his helmet, you look up and notice he is staring at the group of you, but not really knowing where he is actually looking thanks to the visor.

The power coming of this man was hot, all he was doing was sitting there, and yet you feel the need to press your legs together.

The throne itself was made out of stone, not over-ally looking comfortable. On the end of each armrests were carvings of Rancor heads, aware that you were stood on top of the old Rancor pit that Jabba was famous for owning.

The way he was sitting in the throne, so relaxed but also clearly asserting dominance. That throne looked like it was made for him, there was no doubt it was his throne.

Your eyes wander to his right and you notice a woman standing almost in the shadows. Her hair in multiple little braids with orange thread going through it, dressed in all black leather with hints of orange.

Is this Fennec Shand then? It would make sense, since everything you have learnt about her it seems like she is keeping Lord Fett safe, clearly ready to shot anyone who wrongs him.

If this was her you can understand why Garsa was gushing over her, she was in fact a beautiful lady.

''Welcome'' a voice says, your head turning back to Boba Fett, did that come from him? His voice is husky, even through a voice modifier, you weren't sure what voice you expected to hear, but it took you by surprise. ''I appreciate you all wanting to work here tonight'' he adds, which sounds more like a statement then actual gratitude.

He carries on talking, but you aren't listening, well you are but not taking it in. You could listen to him talk for hours, his voice is heavenly and so mesmerising to listen to.

After a while you are all dismissed to the kitchen, everyone chatting away about Fett. Some saying he seems rude, some saying he seems nice. You, on the other hand, just kept any thoughts to yourself.

That man, the power he holds, is so attractive.

Once you reach the kitchen you are shown briefly where everything is, luckily for yourself it was just simple. The joys of being a cleaner, everything you need is right here.

It was obvious when the party had started, it took awhile until you all had to actually start working, waiting for the dishes to come in. The party was being held a couple of rooms over, the music quite loud and hearing people shouting and laughing.

Part of you was jealous, wanting to join them all. Yet you knew your anxiety would go crazy over a room of strangers, regardless of Garsa being in there too, herself knowing everyone.

As it slows down a bit you take the opportunity to use the fresher. You excuse yourself and wander down the hallway to find it, the smelter droid, 8D8 was his name apparently, had told you when you arrived at the kitchen where it was, but now it was trying to remember where it was.

The fresher is in your sight when your name is yelled and you turn to see your boss walking towards you with a drink in her hand, ''I need some advice'' she says. You stare at her and wonder what she could need. She grabs your hand and pulls you into the throne room where the party is being held.

''Okay, so you must know the best type of glasses, I need to know which glass will be the best to give to Mistress Shand'' Garsa asks. You blink at her, she really asked you this? You can't help but start laughing, almost curling over. She was falling for this woman so badly.

''Oh Garsa'' you laugh, looking at her now blushing face.

Once you calm yourself, finding her crush amusing, you examine the glasses and tell her to use the one with the long body and very wide top. Since Shand is mostly on the job she wouldn't want a drink she would shot, more one that she can sip.

After the spotchka was poured into the glass it was given to a droid carrying a tray. You watched it maze through the room, avoiding the guests, going towards the throne. As you look up you see that helmet staring at you.

His sight completely towards you, your breath gets caught in your chest. He may not have even staring at you, but it's like you can feel his eyes burning into you.

The helmet tilts up ever so slightly and the hand on his thigh starts to move up and down slightly, his body moving back a bit causing his legs to be more open. The subtle movement makes your own legs press together again, wetness suddenly appearing in your underwear.

''She's been given the drink'' Garsa says, snapping you out of your gaze, turning to Shand. She smirks and looks up towards Garsa, slightly nodding towards her and sipping it.

You turn to your boss, seeing her whole facing turning red out of blush, smiling back and then turning away. A slightly giggle leaves her, her hand falling onto her mouth.

''Hey, that went well then'' you smile at her.

The two of you stand and laugh about it for a little until you remember the reason you left the kitchen in the first place and turn towards the fresher seeing as you had finished helping her flirt with the assassin. Before you leave the throne room though you once again take a look to the throne and notice that it is now empty.

Shrugging it off, thinking he most likely had just went to introduce himself to others. Or maybe to tell Garsa off for flirting with his righthand man, the thought makes you laughing quietly to yourself.

Once you shut the door you sigh, annoyed at yourself for getting so turned on by a kriffing helmet looking at you. As you wash your hands you stare at yourself in the mirror and take a deep breath in, telling yourself to just go back to the kitchen, carry on your job and go home.

You pull the door open and head towards the kitchen, looking down to fix your apron. Noticing it needs to be retied you stop, reaching towards your back, when suddenly a body knocks into you. They're cold on your back, your hands are right next to their hips.

''Careful little one'' the person behind you says. Your eyes are popping out their sockets, the realisation of who is stood behind you.

Not moving as fear, but also arousal, hits you.

''Here'' Lord Fett says and then next thing you know you feel the apron tightening around you, causing your underwear to stick back to you, new wetness appearing. He grabbed the straps and tying it for you, his cold gloved hands knocking into your back, your body heating up against his slight touch.

''There, that looks more professional'' he says after tying the bow, you still standing in the same position, your hands have only just moved and are now resting on your stomach. Unsure what to do with yourself.

The sound of the spurs on his shoes move around you, like he was studying you. His eyes most defiantly moving up and down your body with you unknowing due to being unable to see his gaze. Your chest is rising fast, mouth ever so slightly opened, legs pressed together. Your body not really knowing what to do.

The way he was staring at you made you feel like prey, and he was the hunter.

A hand reached out and lifts your chin up ever so slightly, forcing you to stare right into the black visor of the green, dented helmet.

''Everything okay mesh'la?'' His husky voice asks. You swallow and nod, unsure what the last word was. He could probably see that you were nervous of some kind, and you wonder if he enjoys this, the idea of someone fearing him.

Not that you did fear him, but at this current moment you almost couldn't. This man was dangerous.

''I've been informed your the best cleaner Garsa has, is this correct?''

''Yes, sir'' the title slipping off your tongue before you can question it. He hums, his gloved fingers still holding your chin.

Such a beautiful sound.

You can feel yourself dripping onto your underwear, you were melting under his gaze and touch.

''Lord Fett, Mistress Shand is asking for your return as you have guests waiting'' the same 8D8 droid from earlier is heard in the doorway of the throne room.

''Tell her I will be there in a moment'' he raises his voice so the droid can hear him. Once the droid has clearly moved away you can feel this tension coming off Fett, his attention back to you.

His hand leaves your chin, your face is probably bright red. You suddenly miss the feeling of his hand on your chin, your eyes fall shut as he moves his hand to tuck a piece of hair away from your face. A small chuckle leaves him, causing you to almost choke on nothing.

''I shall let you go back to work, but don't overdo yourself girl. I would like you to return to the Palace in the next few days, I have an opportunity for you'' he states, and with that he leaves.

The way he carries himself while walking was a beauty to watch. What a powerful man.

You breath out, which then you realise you had been holding your breath. How long had you been doing that?

Moments pass, trying to understand what had just happened. What had just happened? And did he tell you to come back?

As you head back to the kitchen a couple of heads turn as you re-enter, you had been gone for half an hour now. ''Everything okay?'' Someone asked, you smiled and nodded. ''You were gone for a while, you sure you're okay?'' Another asked.

''Oh, Garsa grabbed me. W-wanted my help with something'' you awkwardly laughed. It wasn't a complete lie.

You did nothing but think about the event the whole time you cleaned, did you get offered a job? But would you take it though?

Of course you enjoyed working for Garsa, you adored her and she very much cared for you. However, a job in the Palace?! You can only image the pay is better, and you'll have to deal with less drunk idiots. Plus this place seems like it would have good security, especially Shand as she is constantly keeping an eye on everything and everyone.

Yet, you know nothing of these two really, would you throw away working for Garsa basing your whole interaction of tying an apron and a chin hold? Your body is telling and screaming at you yes, wanting to be close to Lord Fett again, however your brain is screaming no and to wait.

For the rest of the night you are almost on autopilot whilst cleaning, your mind completely wondered off.

''Well, tonight went wonderfully!'' Garsa's voice appeared as you placed the last spoon down. All of you turning to the doorway to face your boss who carried on talking, ''I have been told Lord Fett wants to ask a few of you to work for him, there would be no hard feelings if you were to accept! I know how rough this planet is, especially in terms of reputation. There will be a few meetings over the next few days to those who he has told me he wishes to talk to. Don't worry bar and food staff will also be asked too, so there will be familiar faces in the Palace for you all.''

Hearing this makes you feel less tense about earlier, but yet you are unaware if you are the only one he himself approached.

After a little Garsa leaves so that you can all clean up the kitchen and get ready to leave. The group heading back towards the throne room to leave the same way you came in, anxiety sitting in your stomach thinking about seeing him again.

Holding your apron over your arm, you find yourself playing with the strap to calm yourself. You follow the group up the steps into the throne room, once you reach the top you avoid even looking at the throne. Everyone is walking single file, but then you notice at the front of the group people are stopping and bowing to the throne and thanking them.

Shit. No avoiding it now.

Your eyes are fixed ahead, not daring to look at him, not until you have to.

When you are next, you stop and turn to the throne. You smile at him, bow and say ''thank you Mistress Shand, and you Lord Fett. It was an honour, sir.''

The title slipping off your tongue again. His hand on the arm rest tightening into a fist, and his body moves back.

A smirk crawls across your face. You swear you hear him mumble something, but shake it off and turn to carry on following everyone else.

As you start ascending the stairs you turn for a quick moment and notice his helmet is once again glued you tonight. A flush runs over you and you walk up the stairs quicker.

****

Once you finally reach home that night you strip of your dress and sit on your bed, thinking about Fett's hand on your chin, how he referred to you as 'little one', the apron tightening around you, his hands touching your back.

Your eyes shut as your hand travels to your underwear, moving them to the side and finding yourself absolutely soaked. Using your two fingers you start drawing small circles around your clit, throwing your head back, letting little moans escape your mouth.

With your eyes shut you imagine that helmet staring at you, him chuckling at you getting off to him slightly touching you.

Bringing your other hand to your breasts, pushing the bra away and start playing with your hardened nipple.

More quiet moans leave your mouth, you allow your body to lay back on your bed as your hand moves from your clit to your pussy.

Starting slowly at first, pumping yourself with two fingers.

Thinking to yourself how many fingers he would be able to fit in you, how much he would stretch you out because if his gloves are anything to go off two would stretch you.

You wonder if he was staring at your ass as he tied the apron. Wondering if he liked what he saw.

Imagining he was waiting for you in the corridor, wanting to see you.

You knew that was extremely unlikely, but your horny brain didn't care, you just wanted to be touched again.

The feeling of his body pressed against yours, feeling the broadness of his body, the power and dominance radiating off him.

The images of him manspreading on his throne appear in your mind, imagining how big he must be. You get a hot flush at the idea of him fucking you on the throne.

Imagining how his voice would sound praising you, how his moans would sound. You remember how he sounded when he hummed and it caused your body to react, feeling the build of your orgasm coming.

You carry on fingering yourself, moving your hand off your nipples to play with your clit, pushing yourself over the edge.

Eyes slam shut as you see stars, your orgasm seeping through you as thoughts of Lord Fett come into your brain.

''Oh Boba'' you quietly moan.

You allow your orgasm to carry out, once your pussy is too sensitive you remove your hands. Taking a deep breath in, then start to laugh at yourself. You really just masturbated and came over a man you have not seen the face of, hardly know, all because he touched your face and your back slightly.

After a little while you strip yourself of your underwear and jump into the shower for the second time today, needing to clean yourself of the sweat. As you clean yourself you once again go back to the idea of the job offer, you need to speak to Garsa and figure it all out better, have a meeting with Fett and see if it would work.

You wonder, would it work if you've just masturbated over this man? Your possible future boss?

A sigh leaves you as you dry off, climbing into your bed with your hair still damp, not really caring. Your body needed some rest, this day being so long, remembering you were woken suddenly and in fear from those damn drums earlier. Then on top of that, the whole night at the Palace, forget the events with Fett, just working in a new place for the night and having your day changed.

As you drift off to sleep you try to rid your thoughts of Boba Fett, but apparently that was impossible.

[kaleidoscope1967eyes]

Children of the Dunes - Chapter 1

Tagging: @stonegoldsxcrxt, @myevilmouse, @hansonveggieclub, @laserbrains, @ancient-stardust, @graniairish

12 BBY

The Tatooine slave market was as brutal and unforgiving as the planet's twin suns; the only thing louder than the murmuring crowd was the rattling of chains and cracking of whips.

Every year during the Boonta's Eve celebration, people of every species imaginable flocked to Mos Espa to bet on the highest-value slaves available, many of whom were only children.

Y/N was one of them. Too young to be considered for 'entertainment' slavery, she was lined up on a makeshift stage with others deemed fit to be household slaves. She had never truly known a home or a family; the cold nights and sweltering days spent in a crowded sandstone prison robbed her of any sense of security, so all she could long for was for it to end.

"Five thousand? Give me a reason why I should spend that much on a little girl," a rather frightening man asked in Huttese. He had a ghastly, sinister face with sunken eyes and sharpened teeth, and the look on his face was anything but friendly. Y/N shivered and quickly looked away--that face would certainly reappear in her nightmares.

"She follows orders without question," responded one of the Zygerrian slavers. "Watch, she'll even sing!"

With a sharp kick, the Zygerrian sent Y/N tumbling to the ground as the cruel man laughed.

"Go on, sing for me, child!"

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes as she pulled herself back up, knees bloodied and stinging from the knifelike grains of sand coating the stage. Angry, humiliated, and afraid, all she could do was choke out a weak "No!" in defiance. The other slaves gasped; the crowd fell silent.

"No?" the Zygerrian snarled, pulling out an electro-whip. Y/N closed her eyes and braced herself. "You'll soon learn not to disobey your-"

"Ten thousand!" a female voice called out.

The Zygerrian lowered the whip and Y/N opened her eyes. The source of the voice, a tall, dark-haired woman, pushed her way through the crowd. She was followed by her young son, who looked only a few years older than Y/N. He wore a nervous look on his face; this certainly wasn't a place he and his mother frequented often.

"You're willing to pay ten thousand, for this? I have far more obedient slaves available for such a price."

"That won't be necessary. I suggest you quit hurting the poor girl, or I might just rescind my offer."

The Zygerrian shrugged as she made her way to the stage. Y/N peeked out to get a better look at the strange woman. Her intricately woven dress suggested that she came from a wealthy background, and her expression was one of motherly determination, one that didn't invoke a feeling of dread the way the last man's did.

Who is that woman?, Y/N wondered. Is she truly here to help me, or is she here to hurt me like everyone else?

The Zygerrian pulled out a datapad to document the transaction. "Name?"

"Lanal Darklighter," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. She clearly didn't like going on record as having bought a slave. Her son, however, looked at Y/N and smiled.

For the first time in years, Y/N smiled, too.

[cosleia]

Din/Cobb, carrier.

They bought it together at the morning market in Mos Espa. Cobb ignored the look Taanti was giving him as he handed over half the credits, and Mando produced the other half from somewhere in that armor of his and did the same, and finally they owned it: a brand-new hovering pram with all the safety and protection features Mando had been looking for.

"I'm sorry," Mando said again, but Cobb interrupted him: "I told you, I want him to have something from me. I'm happy to see you two reunited."

Cobb could feel Mando looking at him, and the thought of that made something flutter nervously in his chest; but he smiled his usual easy smile, and Mando nodded and said "Thank you," and that was that.

[wendingways]

Just checking in and seeing how Fortunes Rule is going ❤️🙏🏽❤️🙏🏽🥹😅

It's going. Slowly, but surely! 😅 Nobody is having a good time in this chapter (except the twins, of course), and it's proving rather challenging to write for some reason.

Thanks for checking in! 💛

And here's a little snippet from the chapter :)

The second morning, Beru’s call came while Padmé was pacing her room and rehearsing the finer details of her cover story in preparation for the day’s meetings. “Have you found them?” Padmé blurted, the moment she answered her comm. “No.”  Beru’s voice was subdued.  “There’s still no sign.  No one’s even seen the speeder.  Of course, if they left it somewhere, it’s probably been picked up by Jawas, or some lowlife looking for a ride.” Unless, of course, speeder and twins been collectively taken possession of first.  Frankly, that seemed just as likely.  Padmé continued to pace. “Owen checked the slave markets in Espa,” Beru added.  “He didn’t see them there.” “That’s…” Padmé started, but she couldn’t finish the sentence. That’s good.  It was good, wasn’t it?  Owen hadn’t seen the twins in the Mos Espa slave markets.  That was good.  Unless it just meant they had already been— A wave of blank terror threatened to overwhelm her at the thought of her children being sold as slaves.  They couldn’t have been.  They just couldn’t.  But if they had… I might never see them again.  They might grow up as slaves.  Unless someone discovers what they are, and Palpatine finds out, and—

[sleepymaul]

STAR WARS

A long time ago, in a ga- okay, you get it. Prompts are supposed to be vague to allow for user control. All characters are user-neutral, with no pronouns.

Cal Kestis

Tatooine is... too hot. Walking through the busy market on Mos Espa, Cal can't shake the feeling of being watched.

Din Djarin

The search has led Din to a cantina somewhere in the Outer Rim.

Maul

Coruscant. What a dreadful place. Not too long after the fall of the Republic, Crimson Dawn's leader finds himself up and unable to sleep. But then the door behind him slides open...

[eptga]

Mos Espa

Mos Espa market was a shopping area on space port of Mos Espa, Tatooine. It was seen in the films, especially 'Phantom Menace' to be selling street food. There was the incident where Jar Jar binks tried to eat something and was confronted by Sebulba after sending some street food flying and it hitting him. Graga was a seller of street food in Mos Espa. She grew her own food in the sewers beneath the city itself. Graga, who is a 'Swokes Swokes', these beings were often known to be violent, and were also known to be canabals. Cannibalism was actually a punishment for them, but an accepted one. However, to be eaten by their own family was actually prefered to being eaten by strangers. Akims Munch is the food place that Sebulba was eating at when he attacked Jar Jar. Its said that the food there is is often undercooked and stringy. The Troll Market in Hellboy is a market that is hidden from the eyes of man. It is a magical market and is believed to have been originally placed in the Sahara desert. However, over the centuries, along with migration, the troll market relocated and it was later located under the Brooklyn Bridge in New York. Faeries have been seen in the Market, along with many other magical and mythical items.