#Scrapper boba

[corvidscreams]

Bracca’s a rainy planet, and not everyone has a poncho to keep dry. Thankfully, not everyone needs one.

[alcida-auka]

Jealosy among the clones?

I didn't think about it until today, but do the regs ever feel jealousy that Omega is clearly doted on by Nala Se?

Was that why they called her a "lab scrapper"? It was pretty ugly how that one clone acted towards her, and it seems if Lama Su noticed Nala Se treated Omega as a person, so did the clones as well.

Were they jealous?

For that matter, were the clones aware of Jango Fett and Boba Fett to any degree? Would they feel that jealousy towards Boba? Remember Jango Fett and Nala Se are foils of a sort. Both dehumanized the clones for differing reasons. But they both chose one clone to treasure and value as their child. It's ugly, but it's something that goes on everyday in real life--stories of people that dehumanize immigrant children, or even foster children or stepchildren while loving and adoring their own.

Is Emerie bitter that Nala Se would cherish Omega and not her? Would she see a younger looking sister with the jewels of Kaminoan women and be angry she was not valued the same? Does she even remember Nala Se very much in the first place.

Worth noting that Hunter and the others don't really have any opinions on the Kaminoans, and I don't think they remember Nala Se any more than Omega (though Hunter seems to vaguely remember Omega in episode 1). It's possible Emerie doesn't remember either, but it would be interesting if she did.

My big question is how Emerie ended up with Dr. Hemlock, and how she got a surname as well.

[marierg]

Biscuits and Beskar: 3

Pairing: Boba Fett x OC Kaylee Manu

Rating: PG-13 (just for the last little tense parts and the action)

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, language, mentions of past traumas, SNAKE!, semi nakedness, naughty-ish thoughts, TENSION. No actual naughtiness or schmexy-ness but lots of thoughts running wild.

A/N: I apologize now, I know I'm not writing very fast but I hope what comes out is worth the wait. I wanted to give these two a few little moments but also I wanted the Pike incursion to be felt. I have given names to a few of the characters we know. The Gamorean guards are Ro and Weem and the Rancor handler is Vol (pronounced Val). Our girl Kaylee grew up on a star cruise liner (think Princess cruise) and I picture her having been around entertainers and dancers a lot as a kid. One of whom I picture as a very young Jimmy Buffet.

PS- Kaylee is a shit magnet (doesn't mean to find trouble, it just seems to find her) and a klutz. Lots of heart and spirit, but lots of boo boos. Lets just say I hope that the Daimyo's insurance is good.

Words: 4700ish

Song credit: Come Monday by the great Jimmy Buffet! (Don't tell me Margaritaville doesn't exist in Star Wars)

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“PAPA!”

You woke in a cold sweat, hands scrubbing the last of the horrible memory away. You could still see him, hear his last words.

“Free men built this galaxy and free men will have their day again.”

Celsus Manu had died as he lived, bravely standing for what he believed. How many souls had he smuggled on those cruises, how many had Papa saved from a fate worse than death? To be bound to a life of forced servitude until their very spirit extinguished even while their bodies remained.

Nothing could have saved him that day though. The shots ringing in your ears...

Heading down to the kitchen you pulled your robe tight. At each of the dormitory doors you paused to listen, just to be sure the sand scrappers slept well. Turbo was still recovering from the crash to catch that slug majordomo that was sleeping in the dungeon. And it was right where the slemo belonged. It had shaken you to see the boy hurt. The little motley crew was all that you had, and now you could count two hunters to that small group. The Daimyo had done something you couldn't, seeing the kids well cared for, it pleased you beyond words. Starting a kettle you heard Ratty boop and beep as he popped around the corner, following you like a shadow.

There was a balcony just off the hall between the throne room and your domain. It was peaceful there, with not but the wind off the dunes and canyons to break the silence. Sipping your tea there was another sound that came not from the vast wilderness, but the tower above. A shadowy figure moving in smooth, controlled motions. You couldn't help to wonder what specifically caused the Daimyo to be up at this hour?

Then again what wouldn't, given the mess at hand. Finishing your tea you rose, patting the little droid on the head. Glancing again to the tower above you went back to the kitchen and pulled out another mug, “Ratty would you be so kind as to deliver something for me?”

The gaffii's weight was a comfort in his hands as Boba moved about the floor. It was a steadfast and strong weapon, it served him well. The dreams had returned with a vengeance causing many a restless night. Practicing always acted as a bit of a balm. People say that time heals, Boba always thought it a foolish saying. No what healed was not simply time, it was affection, closeness, family. The Tuskins had taken him in, made him part of the tribe. They had given him much needed perspective after years of burying himself in hunting.

Years of running from his past... of ignoring the pain.

Boba was a different man than the one who had been swallowed by the Sarlacc. He had done his job and done it well, hoping to be as good a hunter as his father if not better. Jango had once told him that the more proficient he became the more he could pick and choose the jobs he took, but even Jango wouldn't have been able to avoid the Empire. Those hunts were never satisfying, the quarry rarely worth the price on their head.

Boba's philosophy was much like Jango's; he did the job, he got paid, end of contract. Even still Boba regretted parts of his past. He wondered sometimes what had happened to his daughter, if Ailyn ever thought of him. He had stayed away to keep her safe and maybe that was how it should stay. Hearing a tap at the door his attention shifted. He hadn't send for anyone, “Yes?"

Crossing the floor he opened the portal to find no one, just a tray with a cup of tea and a piece of flimsy. Cautiously picking up the mug Boba read the fine scrawl.

You should get some rest.

Seems he wasn't the only one awake. Taking a sip of the herbal tea he could faintly taste the black melon that was part of the brew. A faint smirk crossed his face. Boba sometimes wondered how you actually felt about him, good or bad. You were ever a puzzle, keeping well behind the curtain of formality yet still doing small kindnesses like this. Something a friend would do for another. Maybe you were waiting for him to seek you out? He hummed at that thought, sipping on the warm decoction. Whatever the case he still felt glad of your presence, even if it was from arms length. “Dral runi.”

“Skad aren't you all supposed to be patrolling?” You looked over the middle counter to where the young man was hovered over his breakfast.

Finishing a bite of hash the scamp nodded at you. “Jus' waiting on Nikita and that Gamorean, Ro, to get back.”

“And here we are,” Nikita strutted in followed by Ro, who grunts at you. The other Gamorean, Weem, was with Drash in the hangar taking a delivery.

Turning to the counter where dishes are drying you gesture to them. “Get some food you two and tell Vol to come eat too.”

Vol never came up until after he had seen to the Rancor. He was a quiet man, said only what was necessary, had a hard edge about him. He was considerate in his own way though, you'd seen him a few times help the kids here and there. But mostly he kept his own company and you respected that. As your thoughts wandered a favorite tune came over the speaker, a smile spread on your face as the old sweet song brought back happier times. Reaching over you raised the volume.

“Oh no,” Skad tried to make a run for it.

“Oh yes.” Grabbing the boy's hand you start to dance and sing. It was something you'd done with Papa in the kitchen growing up. For a moment when you moved across the floor you thought maybe he was there, laughing with you. Most of the kids would dance along when this would happen, knew which songs you loved.

Fennec had gotten back to the Palace when it was still dark, her head buzzing. Whether it was from Fwip's hospitality or the lovely female whose warm bed she had shared was undetermined. What a sweet distraction it had been though. Fennec stepped into the kitchen, an amused chuckle escaping her. You were twirling around and dancing with one of the Gamoreans, looking over to her with a puckish grin. “Don't even think it cookie.”

You rolled your eyes and instead went to the counter to retrieve a Bloody Mary. Handing the drink to the master assassin you continue singing.

“...Come Taungsday it'll be alright. Come Taungsday I'll be holding you tight. I spent four lonely days in a brown Bespin haze and I just want you back by my side.”

Fennec took a sip of the drink and couldn't help smirking at your flirtations. “Sweetheart I would eat you alive.”

“Hmm but what a way to go...” Making a flirting face you swayed your hips to the music.

Bumping hips with Fennec you threw a towel over your shoulder to get back to work. The assassin had a wicked sense of humor you found. A sense of humor that struck in the form of your belt loop getting hooked to pull you to her side. Fennec tutted you like a naughty child, “Ah ah ah, the song's not over cookie.”

She tugged, guiding your movements while holding her drink in the other. You continued to sing and sway as the song hit the last chorus. Fennec tapped her fingers under your chin then stepped away as the final chords rang. You laughed and felt genuinely happy, feeling safe enough to let down your guard. Which was funny if you thought on it... feeling safe in the palace of the Daimyo of Tattoine. Looking at Fennec's smug face you couldn't help but be a little bit of a brat, “Such a tease Mistress Shand.”

Fennec smirked, glancing back at the hallway, “Oh, you have no idea...”

Boba had stepped back where you couldn't see him, still watching you. Observing as you joined his second in command at the table, making notes on your data pad. It annoyed him that Fennec would toy with you like some dancing girl. Walking into the kitchen he saw you look up at him with a small smile.

“Good morning.” Tracking as he moved to sit at the head of the table by Fennec. You take a fortifying breath, kark you were tired. “Omelet with bacon for the Daimyo or just toast and coffee like this one?”

“Careful cookie, remember who's in charge.” Fennec gives you a light warning. There's no real threat behind it, especially with how she saw Boba looking at you. What these two needed was a solid nudge, still now may not be the time. “By the by, Garsa was asking about you.”

“How's she doing?” You ask concerned. Moving to the buffet you started making up plates and readying the omelet pan.

“Just fine, the Sanctuary was booming last night.”

“And I bet Troy was the bartender,” You smirked at her expression as you passed her a plate of hash. “They have a heavy pour and always work race days, better tips.”

Boba watched as you bustled around making his plate. He was used to eating rations and quick meals on the fly, not often indulging in the slow enjoyment of a meal. It was something that he was still not used to. As you placed the plate and utensils down he glanced to where you sat, keeping his tone even, “You're not eating?”

“No.. I'm...” a flush rose in your cheeks as the man looked at you. Something in those eyes that saw too much. Swallowing thickly you tried to find your words again, “I'll eat later.”

“You should eat,” Boba tilted his head, suspecting that you had never returned to your quarters after making his tea. He gave a slight waive of his hand, “Please.”

“Yes Lord Fett,” Grabbing another plate you put an egg on a slice of toast and refilled your Kaf cup. His gaze was on you like a warm summer sun until you took that first bite. Glancing over you saw the man's lips turn up just slightly as he ate his meal. “I hope it's to your liking.”

“Quite good, thank you.” Boba could think of a few things he'd like to consume much better. Still he did not want to startle or distress, you always appeared flustered when he was near. There were more pressing matters that his mind needed to tend to, business always before pleasure. “Did the prisoner receive a meal.”

“Yes Lord Fett.” Rolling your eyes and giving a grunt, your tone was flatly annoyed.

Well that was a first he thought. “You don't much care for the majordomo?”

“Not particularly,” you bit out the words as though you had swallowed a bug.

Boba gave a huff of a laugh at that. So you had a temper.

“Anyone willing to deal with the Pikes is a damn fool,” Lips hovering on your mug you dared look the Daimyo in the eye, “But while also attempting to assassinate the new Daimyo... dead man walking.”

Boba couldn't help give a slight nod at that, even if his pride was a tad hurt. And foolish he had been, so distracted by his dealings with the syndicate so certain of the profits. All while his tribe was massacred by that speeder gang. But that was then, this was now. “At least he was smart enough to give me the information.”

You huffed, mind turning to more immediate concerns. The rotation on security had changed again, but most of all no audiences. “I didn't see anything on the schedule today.”

Boba didn't raise his head to reply, “Nothing worth mention.”

“Is that why you were awake?” You shouldn't poke the bear, you really shouldn't poke the bear.

Boba looked up from his omelet, seeing the softness of your eyes. You were concerned and curious. “Cleaning up messes.”

“Putting out fires,” You kept your tone easy as you pulled up your data pad to show a message from a friend in Mos Eisley. Partly about parts for your speeder and partly about an increase in unfriendly traffic. “Those fin heads are coming Lord Fett.”

Fennec watched you two dance around one another like a pair of tookas. She knew you had an edge to you, most did living on the outer rim. It did amuse her that you were finally relaxing around them enough to let your teeth show. “No need to worry your pretty head Cookie.”

“They're blood thirsty little piranhas.” You well remembered problems with them during the drought years. How ruthless they could be towards people who couldn't pay their protection.

“Yes but they can occasionally be dealt with,” Fennec kept a calm tone, watching you.

“Rather it ended quickly so that people could get back to living. But what do I know,” Tone low and sad you got up and headed to the sink, tone sharper than intended. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

“Cookie...” Fennec sighed taking a last drink. “I'm going to town, comm if you need anything.”

“Fennec, be careful.” You watched as she gave you a nod and left. Your thoughts were dark, grumbling in your throat you scrubbed harder at the last of the dishes. You hadn't meant to be moody, it was not like you at all. “I'm sorry...��

“For what?”

You jumped not realizing he had come up behind you. You were so startled that you dropped a glass. The shards sliced your finger, not badly but enough to be annoying. “Shit.”

“Here,” Boba started the faucet, placing your hand under it. “I didn't mean to...”

“No it's... I should be more careful.” Keeping your head down you weren't sure if you could meet his gaze. “I shouldn't have snapped.”

“I think Fennec will survive,” Boba could see your face flushing as he sprayed some bacta on your hand. His tone turning soft, a rarity, but you seemed to bring that out. “There, doesn't look bad.”

“Thank you,” You tried not to stammer as his hands held yours, strong and larger than your own. Glancing up to meet his gaze you almost froze, “Lord Fett.”

“Boba,” He smirked and raised your hand to his lips, giving a light brush of his lips to your knuckles. “My name is Boba.”

“Boba,” you nodded dumbly as he slowly released your hand.

“Kaylee,” Boba inclined his head to you.

Your heart thundered in your ears. Watching as he gestured for you to sit again. He nodded for you to at least finish your Kaf and so the two of you sat like that for a time. It was companionable, without the need to fill the silence.

Boba waited till you had relaxed again, speaking quietly so not to startle. “The tea last night, you put black melon milk in it.”

“Helps settle the nerves,” you shrugged sipping at your drink and not quite looking at Boba. It was such a short name for a man who cast such a large shadow. “and I didn't want to waste the melon on just my tea.”

Boba hummed at that. “And what is it that keeps you awake Kaylee?”

“Things better left in the past...”

“I over stepped...” then he felt your small hand take his own, just holding it lightly.

“S'alright. My Papa would say that honesty is good for the soul.” You sigh with a sad little smile, “Sometimes memories aren't always pleasant and come when we least want them.”

“He sounds like a wise man.”

Patting his hand you study the inside of your mug, tone a little bitter sweet, “He was.”

Screaming and several squeals rang through the halls of the Palace, causing both of you to jump. Boba got to the throne room first. There was Ro, Weem, and Drash standing next to an ornate wood box on the floor. Nikita stood frozen several steps away, a dune sea asp staring her down. The large serpent baring its fangs at the girl.

“Don't move, be still.” Boba began to approach the viper his helmet display lighting up trying to target the creature. It was just too close, still in range to strike the girl before he could shoot.

“Fuck!” Drash could shoot herself for accepting the damn shipment, it was her fracking fault it should be her. “Nikita it's gonna be ok. I swear it'll be ok.”

Nikita cried silently, tears trailing her cheeks as she tried to remain still.

“Nikita cat, look at me sweetie.” Stars and maker help you, no please don't let this happen. Your heart was in your throat and you wanted to scream. But that wouldn't help any, “'Kita Cat, come on look at me, look at me.”

The young woman glanced at you finally getting her eyes off the snake.

“Good girl, just... you remember what we used to say? When you kids would hide,” you stepped just a bit closer holding out a hand as if to grasp hers, “Far and away we won't be afraid. Just keep your eyes on me.”

“Far and away we won't be afraid. Far and away we won't be afraid...” the girl whispered the words over and over still looking at you.

“Good, keep her calm,” The snake was a message, a very clear one meant for him. Boba knew the asp could kill with its fangs as well as blind and maim by spitting its venom. If he could get the snake to go for him instead the armor would protect him.

“Mama Kay,” the high pitched terror in Nikita's voice ripped you in two, “I don't wanna die.”

“Kark it...” Swallowing hard you got ready to do something really stupid. You had given your word to protect the kids and that was one thing you would not break. Even if their parents were long dead, you had given your word. “Drash get to the drop switch.”

Boba's helmet turned to you, gut dropping to his boots. “What are you...”

Throwing a dish rag at the snake you ran between it and Nikita. The snake hissed furiously and slithered fast as lightning forward to strike at you. “Now Drash!”

“Haar'chak!” The floor went out, sending you to the rancor pit. Boba shot the viper, spraying it with the flame thrower for good measure after. His temper flared, how could you be so foolish? Looking over at Nikita she appeared no worse for wear, Drash had her well in hand. Angrily striding across the room he barked at the Gamoreans, “Clean up this mess! And find out where that came from.”

It was dark, barely any light came down from above. You could hear Drash though, sounding more like the scared girl you had first met and less the confident young woman you knew. “Mama Kay?!”

“I'm alright,” It was a huge lie. Your leg hurt, kark it hurt so bad. It had been a longer drop than you thought and you had heard crunch on landing. This job was getting more and more hazardous to your health. “Ahhhh!”

“Raaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!”

“Oh dank....” looking around the dark beady eyes of the Rancor met your own. The breath froze in your lungs, body throbbing in pain as the ground vibrated with its roar.

The beast uncurled from where it slept coming to a crouch over you. It's lumbering head turning this way and that studying the new visitor. One large clawed hand came to paw roughly at your hurt leg.

“Hrrgg...” You couldn't help grunting in pain, but the large animal didn't move to harm you further, just studying you. It's large head lowering to sniff and snort, drool falling from it's large fangs. Vol had said that Rancors could be quite sweet. Reaching up to stroke the big beasts muzzle, it huffed a high pitched sound and blinked at you. “You... you like that? Ok we can... we can do that.”

“Open the cage.” Boba kept his voice low, striding into the dark space carefully. While he was confident the beast would not harm him, he did not wish to place you in further danger by startling it. He could hear the deep grunts of the Rancor's breathing, but couldn't see you. “Kaylee?”

“Down here,” it came out pained. You continue stroking and cooing at the rancor, trying to keep calm. In all honesty if your leg weren't on fire this would be infinitely enjoyable “Whose the most fearsome rancor? Such a tough looking fella, just a big sweetie aren't you? Yes you are, yes you are! The best boy aren't you.”

Boba crossed his arms over his chest tilting his helmet to the side. He wasn't sure which outweighed the other, his anger at your reckless behavior or the amusement of seeing you treat the Rancor like a massif puppy. “Miss Manu, you are a hazard to yourself.”

“I'm in no position to disagree,” Glancing to the side and giving a weak grimace you could tell the man was steamed, voice turning sheepish, “It was dumb. I know it was dumb. Please don't fire me... Gaaahh!”

The Rancor accidentally brushed your leg again sending pain shooting. Nausea rose in your throat and your breathing came in little gasps. Oh it was definitely broke.

“Alright boy, easy now go to Vol.” Boba patted the beast and directed it to where the handler stood in the corner. The beast whined and lumbered off, giving him a clear look at the damage. Boba scooped you up easily, carrying you silently up the tower. Partially he was silent to let you stew a little, you deserved that a bit for scaring him. A deeper part of him though simply wanted to absorb the feeling of you in his arms again. The way your chest rose and fell as you breathed, the soft curves of your body in his hands. How you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and neck.

“I'm sorry.” He heard you whisper.

You were toast, so freaking toast. Closing your eyes as Boba walked with you up the stairs, head laying in the crook of his neck, tears fell. It had been nice while it lasted, shouldn't have gotten used to it anyway, maybe Garsa would let you moonlight again. At least Nikita was safe and the kids were cared for, Boba would see to them even if you weren't here. All the worst thoughts running through your mind. You didn't realize at first where the big man had placed you down.

“It's going to hurt when this boot comes off,” Boba's temper had eased seeing the tear stains on your cheeks, you wouldn't even look at him just keeping your eyes down. Taking his gloves off and placing them in his helmet to the side, Boba used just the tips of his fingers to raise your head. Your lip quivered and his face softened. Giving you a ghost of a smile he gently stroked your jaw. “Who would make me tea if you left, hmm? Just have to keep you around... though I may have to take away anything sharp from the kitchen.”

Snorting at the joke you let out a shuddering breath, relief flooded your body. Giving him a weak smile and wincing as he eased the boot off. “Thank you, Boba.”

“Lay back mesh'la, this is not going to be pleasant.”

“Pain I'm used too,” A droid came over and scanned you. Boba cut into your pants-leg exposing the area. The droid gave you a shot of medication and with a few quick movements reset the limb. Even with the drugs it hurt like a mother kriffer.

“Fuuuuuck!”

“Here drink this,” Handing you a glass of whiskey he watched as you downed the amber liquid without a flinch. The droid had suggested putting you in the tank, but Boba watched as you shook your head no. He assisted in the removal of your coveralls, you wore simple small clothes beneath. The droid placed bacta wraps on your leg and a splint, finally leaving you be. He couldn't help noticing you relax when it left. “Rest now Kaylee, you're safe here.”

It would be so easy to get lost in those tigers eyes of his, to forget your place. The man was dangerous... very, very dangerous to you. Because you trusted him so readily, believed when he told you it was safe. You had seen too many dancing girls fall for the crime lords, officers and tycoons on the cruiser growing up. Even here in Mos Espa, you knew that it was a fairy tale. As you continued to hold his gaze, your brain had finally registered where it was he had brought you. The silk sheets, the quiet wind off the dunes, the warm spicy scent.

The man had placed you in his own bed.

You should run to your room this instant, broken leg or no. You felt far too much for the man to begin with but now... The seductive feeling of the soft bed beneath you as he gazed down was just too much. The slide of the material against the bared skin of your body, the way you wanted his scent to linger. Stars he had barely touched you to help get your clothes off, but you never wanted his hands to leave.

Oh, there be danger here. Shaking your head you tried to get back to reality, “I should go...”

“No.”

Boba placed a finger to your lips pausing your words and giving you a stern look. His fingers eased down your lips to your neck, watching as you swallowed hard. A faint smile tugged at his lips as his fingers finally came to press against your collar bones to make you lay back. He didn't miss as the goose flesh rose, nor your pupils dilating.

It all made sense to him now. The way you shied away, the nervousness, the little smiles. You liked him, in some small way you felt something for him. Boba relished as part of this puzzle finally fit. He would let you lead this little chase of theirs, because in the end he knew he would win. First things first though, “Rest Kaylee.”

You shivered as he placed the blankets over you, methodical and deliberately keeping eye contact. As his hand slid down the material you took hold of it. He didn't pull away, simply letting you hold his hand. Calluses and scars from a lifetime of work, a strong and even lethal grace to their dexterity. All that you could tell from the touch of his hand. Your tone was a whisper and some small part of you knew you should still run. But your heart had ever been the foolish sort and there was something there in the gruffness, the controlled tone. A sadness in his eyes that called to you. “I'm sorry if I scared you.”

“I don't frighten, cyar'ika.” He tilted his head, such a perceptive little thing. This woman so wise beyond her years. Soft yet strong, and so very sweet. A tough little cookie. He brushed his thumb affectionately over your palm before placing it on your stomach. “Close your eyes Kaylee, sleep.”

“Yes Boba.” The pain medication had been lulling you there already, but it was his deep tenor that made you obey the command. Your last thought before sleep took hold was how nicely your name fell from his lips.

Boba watched you, only for a moment to be sure that you were comfortable. Rangir, who was he trying to fool? He may as well admit that it pleased that hungry part him to see you laying in his bed. Seeing your soft body wrapped in his sheets as a faint smile curved those plush lips. Next time though it would be different, you would be here of your own choosing. Next time you would beg him to stay.

Rising he replaced his gloves and tucked his helmet under his arm. Pausing to glance down on you one more time. “Nuhoy jahaala Kaylee, jate vercopa.”

Translations:

Dral runi- Bright Soul

Cyar'ika- Sweetheart

Mesh'la- Beautiful

Haar'chak- Damn it!

Rangir- To hell with it

Nuhoy jahaala, jate vercopa- Sleep well, good dreams

Tags: @acatalystrising @pickleprickle @daimyosprincess @kimiheartblade

[umwmun-blog]

Strife across the Galaxy

Outer Rim mobilization

FLN Partisan militiamen have taken the fight to the Imperial Remnants, destroying their ground operations and hunting them through hyperspace. Despite being limited on equipment, high morale, training and growing numbers from populations across the Galaxy have given them major victories against the Remnants. This, as well as a hearts and minds campaign with the downtrodden of the Galaxy has seen populations and worlds join the Free League of Neutrals. As well, unscrupulous mercenaries have joined the FLN cause, including the notable bounty hunter Boba Fett. Now Magistrate of Tatooine. Concerns over New Republic naval development.

New Republic naval production continues at an alarming rate. Leaks have confirmed that New Republic warship designs include schematics for orbital bombardment capability, seen by many as a dangerous and inappropriate design for the New Republic, and reopens wounds from memories of Imperial Star Destroyers levelling worlds. Coruscant Revival

Following the passing of the bill to redevelop Coruscant, riots have turned to celebrations and the economic decline of Coruscant begins to fade. Government buildings are repaired, tax credits are issued for development, and Republican army forces are deployed to halt any Imperial or radical activity. The Galactic government has been reinstated in Coruscant, resuming a millennia old tradition. As senators refill the old Senate building, governors and leaders of the Outer Rim hark at the decision, with more and more viewing the New Republic as just another entity perpetuating the long line of Core World political control.

Formation of the Species Liberation Militia

The Ewok wookie militia has been gathering more allies to their cause including the Kaleesh. honor bound warriors that have long been subjugated by the controlling powers in their sector. This organization is pro New Republic. However it demands that a bill of right for all sentient species is made as well as senate reforms to require member planets to be democratically led and for an entire restructure of the new republic senate to give equal representation to all.

The Bracca Raid

The FLN Partisans have conducted a raid on the Scrapper world of Bracca. The FLN secured 2 Imperial light cruisers. and a Quasar Fire-Class Cruiser Carrier. The FLN were able to seize the ships without a fight. and escaped before New Republic patrols reached the site.

While small FLN now has a Naval force.

Formula Zero

As galactic tensions rise galactic citizens flock to the new Pod racing league formula zero. The new regulations have greatly reduced casualty rates for the racing sport. Increasing the survivability of racers from 25% to 99%. A three way rivalry has been brewing between the top racing teams. "Red Rancor" owned by Lando, "Antilles Academy", and the "Cloud riders" a racing team with controversial ties to the FLN.

Outbound flight mission terminated!

"They have a whole damn fleet out here!" - Captain Dameron

The Outbound flight mission has stumbled into an imperial remnant fleet in the unknown regions. The Outbound flight mission was barely able to escape the fleet returning back to known space in a risky unrouted hyperspace jump.

New Republic Intelligence has reviewed data from the incident and has determined that the imperial star destroyers are the 7th fleet. Lead by Captain Pellaeon. The Imperial 7th fleet was almost entirely untouched by the civil war, and has since integrated sections of other Imperial fleets. The presence of such a massive portion of Imperial power in the Unknown Regions does note bode well for Republic security.

The Galaxy awaits the New Republics response.

[simplysummers]

Discussing Omega’s childhood on Kamino

Maybe I’m one of the only people curious about this as we’re all very hung up on Crosshair right now (understandable, I want our king back too), but I would really like a conversation between Omega and preferably Hunter, but anybody works fine, to delve into what her life was truly like on Kamino. How she was treated, raised, reprimanded, and how this all reflects on her relationship with the bad batch, and specifically in moments where their actions have fatherly intent behind them.

So, here’s what we know so far:

She was essentially raised by Nala Se.

She’s a first gen/holds unmodified Jango Fett DNA. Whether she was created at the same time as Boba, we don’t know, although it is unlikely.

Due to the fact she was unaltered, she must’ve been raised from infancy on Kamino.

She wasn’t allowed her own bedroom, so I speculate she either slept in the medical wing or had some sort of shared quarters with Nala Se.

She was frequently tested and experimented on, quite often against her will.

She was perceived to be property and nothing more than an evaluative source to help further Kaminoan research by everybody excluding Nala Se (potentially)

Her title role was a ‘medical assistant’.

She didn’t have a very warm relationship with the other clones, as we’ve seen they labelled her a “lab scrapper”.

She made friends with the existing medical staff, who were all droids.

And that is essentially it. Of course, we can make speculations, (a few of mine are: she must’ve been tormented by the other cadets for not being like them, she knew 99 and he kept her company whenever Nala Se left her alone, and that although she was educated accordingly for her medical training and basic education, she was very sheltered from things without ‘purpose’ to her life (as we all know, the Kaminoans don’t do anything without purpose) but we don’t actually know anything else about her time on Kamino!

First of all I really want to know WHY she was created. Taking into account she isn’t the same age as Boba (it’s very much suggested she isn’t, I mean she acts, looks, sounds and is treated significantly younger than Boba ever was), and Jango also didn’t request two unaltered clones, she must’ve been created a few years after Boba. Therefore, was Jango aware of her existence? And if he was, did he want her? Again, if so, what did Boba think of her? (We don’t actually see Omega’s reaction to being told she’s different, so although she might not have known of their exact relations to her, it’s very likely she could’ve potentially met Jango and Boba at some point.) So many questionsssss.

Moving on, I’d love to know more about her relationship with Nala Se. We’ve seen that the doctor has a soft spot for Omega, most definitely because she raised and grew to love her instead of deeming her a piece of property (not excusing Nala Se’s vile actions with the other clones, she can still rot, Omega has better parental figures now.), but was it always like that? Did she neglect smaller Omega for being just another clone? Before ‘Mega could show personality and differentiate herself, did Se still view her as nothing more then a test subject? How did that affect her relationship with Omega as a young child.

Speaking of which, what was Omega then like as a smaller child (hard to believe, she’s still so smol lmao), but I’m talking toddler age here. She is basically a regular person, going through regular human changes due to the fact she isn’t altered, which means she would’ve had all of those wretched toddler phases that parents dread. We can most likely assess that she was playful and curious, she still is now, bless her, but how was it received? Smaller children don’t have the complexity to understand the level of technicality that the Kaminoans work at, she wouldn’t have understood the necessity of sitting still and behaving, would she have been severely reprimanded? Was Nala Se nice to her about it? How was she raised to interpret mannerisms of other people in regards to this?

Furthermore, I want to know what tests they were performing on her too. She’s clearly important due to her first hand DNA, but before that was an asset, before the Kaminoans needed that, what were they doing to her? Why were they testing on her? How much pain was she in? Did she receive any comfort afterwards or was she expected to dry her eyes and get on with it? (I’m speculating it was the latter.) I need to know what they were doing and why. What was the purpose!

Her entire previous life is a huge mystery to us and I want to know more! And I hope I’m not the only one!

Just looking at her precious little face hurts because we know she didn’t receive the ideal childhood, if anything it was borderline abusive (I mean, not just testing on her, but the mind games the Kaminoans played with this poor kid, the fact she was well aware she was just an asset to their research and yet she constantly received mixed messages. It’s no wonder she idolised the bad batch so much; they seemed to be the only people who hadn’t either treated her like garbage at some point up until then, or died. Honestly despite the few slip ups, props to them for actually taking her in and being decent towards her.

I mean, this isn’t the purpose of this post, but just look at the comparisons.

She finally receives her own bedroom.

Said bedroom isn’t even a proper room, but they made do with what they could. She even acknowledges this and she still absolutely loves it. It’s decked out just for her with fairy lights, blankets and toys.

As said, she actually owns toys now, we don’t know if she ever did on Kamino, but I’m speculating it was most likely very few if any at all.

She has her own weaponry and equipment, she’s actually being assisted to defend herself and her squad, she’s gaining knowledge the Kaminoans wouldn’t have ever dreamed of giving her.

As we’ve seen with the amount of times she runs to Hunter for protection, she trusts them immensely. They’re doing everything right to gain her apprehensive trust so quickly.

And of course it isn’t just with Hunter (I’m a stan so pardon my consistency with bringing him up) but she’s the same with the entire batch, even Cross to a very mild extent! She trusts Wrecker with her life, she forgave him so easily after the Bracca incident because she knows the difference between someone purposefully trying to hurt her and them having no control over their actions.

We see she’s been patient with Echo and Tech, she loves to listen to them, she’s picked up on Tech’s dialect (as seen in episode seven) and she trusts him to help her whenever necessary, she has such a touching bond with Echo too, their little interactions melt my heart.

I could rant for hours about her bond with Hunter, so maybe that should be it’s own post at some point, but honestly just how she always seeks him out specifically for comfort, protection and reassurance. It’s so beautiful.

The way she’s addressed Crosshair over their few co-existent moments too. She’s tried to reassure him it isn’t his fault, because she knows it isn’t, she trusts him because she has no reason not too, everything he’s done and said to her hasn’t been within his control.

These are all severely different reactions to how she responds to both the Kaminoans on planet, whenever they’re mentioned, and from what we know in regards to how they treated her.

I’m repeating myself from a previous post here but honestly petition to give Megs all the hugs in the universe. She deserves ‘em. 💛

[incorrect-kesett]

“What?” he asked, baring his teeth. He glanced down at himself. He was wearing his socks, boxers and tank top, nothing outlandish that he wouldn’t normally sleep in. It wasn’t like he was naked.

Cal ducked his head. “Nothing,” he said and started to awkwardly undress himself. Boba, respectfully kept his eyes turned away. He palmed the knife in his hand and gave it to Cal to cut his own sleeve. And with that he did spare the other young man a glance, eyes tracing the pale lean frame, noting the muscles of his thighs and narrow hips, scars traveling up his arms to his elbows, probably from his scrapper days. A wiry lean frame of someone used to grueling manual labor. Cal caught his eye and smirked. Boba grunted, looking away. It wasn’t like he was immune to physical beauty or lacked a libido. He went to a brothel when he was sixteen to educate himself in this facet of sentient companionship. And the Twi’lek girl was nice and understanding and eased him through his first few couplings. But it didn’t do anything for him. It was fun, it was good stress relief, but it was just that. A physical act. Nothing special. Yet, he couldn’t help but sneak glances at Cal’s body and wondering what it felt like to touch it and to have the weight beneath him.

The more snippets I read from your fic the more I want to read it

[425599167]

I feel like airing some grievances about The Bad Batch.

The Bad Batch has beautiful animation and good performances dragged down by characters whose likability is surface level. The problems with the whitewashed character designs have been discussed and analyzed plenty by people more knowledgeable on the topic than me, but even if the designs weren’t so racist, the title characters are difficult to like due to how much contempt they show for the standard clone troopers, derisively calling all the others “regs” despite the brotherly bonds the clones have shown throughout TCW.

It’s possible that this wasn’t even the BB’s fault. Given that the clones are viewed as products by the Kaminoans and treated as such, being considered defective before their mutations turned out to be useful could’ve caused that divide without their intent because of the environment they were all raised in. The standard clones see the BB as deficient, the BB see the standard clones as identical and replaceable, not unlike the Empire, Kaminoans, and others who mistreat them. Bullying as children escalated into outright disregard for the other clones’ personhood.

There could be a very interesting story with them overcoming this mindset, reconciling with their brothers, and trying to help each other against the Empire. Finding that they’re succumbing to their chips’ influence and they’re no more special or unbeatable than anyone else, that the Empire can and will control them for its own ends against their will. But that isn’t what happens. At multiple points, the BB dismiss other clones as not worth helping. Like saying Rex is the one reg they like. The one good one. How nice. Comparatively, it seems like Rex keeps in contact with the BB because he cares and views them as his brothers despite their behavior. He trusted them enough to encourage Echo to join, apparently having never told him how they wanted to cut their losses and leave him for dead.

Probably the biggest offense was when they used stun blasts against scrappers on Bracca, but when clone troopers show up, they’re back to the kill setting. In TCW, such as the Umbara, Conspiracy, and final arcs, clones killing other clones was a big deal. Even when outside influences caused it, it was a horrifying experience for the clones left standing. The Bad Batch don’t hesitate or regret killing.

As for Nala Se, people justifiably hate her, but I’m an obsessive Barriss Offee fan who doesn’t want to damage my pristine glass house by throwing rocks around. In fact, the slim chance of seeing Barriss again was the only reason I even watched TBB. Look, I even made a title card in the hopes of celebrating her return.

This joke has been made before, but everybody cheaps out on the “I” by copying part of the T or the H. I made that thing from scratch, people need to learn how to use the brush tool.

Anyway, I’m interested in seeing Nala Se develop some moral fiber. “But she helped kill Fives and hide the inhibitor chips, she’s an asshole-“ ALL THE KAMINOANS ARE ASSHOLES, their whole society is built on scifi slavery and war profiteering. If she’s able to break from the pattern, I say we should cheer her on. You’re doing amazing, you rotten, spindly shithead.

The whole plot with Omega being a “perfect clone” of Jango Fett despite being a blond girl is so stupid I questioned how well I understood genetics because there was no possible way that could seriously be the reason, and thought there had to be some obscure nitpicky scientific explanation the writers would point to. There isn’t. I am aware of the various theories that Omega is transgender, which would make her less genetically distinct. It’s Disney. That isn’t what they intended. If it was, there would be a bunch of inane clickbait articles about Omega being Disney’s first gay character. Despite her being hypothetically trans, the hypothetical articles would label her gay.

I just realized while writing this, if the Kaminoans want perfect Jango DNA, why don’t they track down Boba? He’s a bounty hunter, he wasn’t in prison last I knew, he can’t be that difficult to contact for a job. Just pay him a ton of money. Whatever they were planning to pay Cad Bane, give it to Boba.

Back to the Bad Batch, I also don’t feel like they have much character growth. Aside from bonding with Omega, I’m struggling to think of any change they’ve undergone, since their most blatant moral shortcomings are unaddressed. Ironically, I’m most interested in Crosshair despite him being the most reprehensible of the group because he’s the only one showing any kind of growth. He’s a victim of the inhibitor chips, but despite it suppressing his individuality, he’s showing signs of recognizing how much his squadmates meant to him and regretting what he’s doing.

TDLR The Bad Batch are jerks and they’re the least interesting part of the show.

[colehasapen]

(CHAPTER 1) ba’jurir  STAR WARS

A03

If there was one thing that Cody had to choose that shocked him the most about bounty hunting, he would have to say it was the speed in which information spreads. As Kote Cerasi, one half of a mysterious bounty hunting pair, he’s become somewhat of a rising star among the Guild. As ruthless and efficient at his new occupation as he was as Marshal Commander of the Third System Army, his new position as one of the best in the Guild comes with a slew of priceless intelligence that he passes on to Organa and his budding Rebellion. He’s made a name for himself, and his code is already as synonymous with this rise in fame as his  beskar’gam  is; his preferred hunt is  demogolke, those who dare lay a hand on children, and for those who had managed to catch a glimpse of the infants he and his partner toasted around at times, it wouldn’t have come as much of a surprise.

It’s his reputation that lets him hear the news first.

“Hey, Cerasi!” Cody barely tilts his helmet away from the bounty board as Karga approaches, a sly smile on his face. He’s considering a bounty on Bracca when he calls out for him, of a scrapper that had gotten too handsy with some well-off natborn’s daughter, so the other hunter doesn’t really hold his attention, even if he keeps himself aware of the man’s movements and location.

Karga’s useful for information gathering, but not much else in Cody’s opinion, though he had been slated for the position of a Contract out in the Outer Rim should a spot open up. Obi-Wan had decided that it would be beneficial for them to stay on his good side, to have their own in with the man for intelligence, but Cody didn’t trust the man as far as a cadet could throw him.

“Karga.” He greets with a gruff grunt, and the man watches him with greedy, intelligent eyes. “What can I do for you?”

Karga’s smirk widens, and he slides into the booth across from him, “Oh no. The question, my friend, is what can  I  do for  you?”

Cody’s head tilts more, a sign of his attention, “A job then?”

“Something of the sorts.” Karga equivocates, and from under his  buy’ce, Cody shoots the man a look that had once made his men fear the training coming their way if they didn’t get to the point immediately.

It had never worked on his  riduur though, because Obi-Wan was an unrepentant chaotic bastard when he got into the mood, but enough of the gist of it gets through the visor to make Karga squirm. Though it could just be the gold-on-black jaig eyes staring him down.

“You’ve made a name for yourself, Mando.” Karga says, “And I know talent when I see it; you could be the best.” Cody hums non-committedly, tilting his head pointedly. He’s been the best before, but now he’s only interested in keeping his small family safe. “A little birdy told me that Bane’s been dethroned, and his successor is easy pickings.” Karga leans in close, voice hushing, “And I’d throw my weight behind  you.”

“Oh?” Cody probes, uninterested, but it’s what the other bounty hunter wants to hear.

“It’s  Boba Fett.”

Cody’s grip tightens on the datapad he holds, breath punching out of him and feeling like he had been gut shot. Boba, his brother, Jango’s only son while the rest of them were products and tools. Boba who had been proof that Jango could be a good father, a good person, that he could have loved them but chose not to.

Boba who was innocent of the blame for how they were treated, and who used to sneak into training with the CCs when they had all been the same size. Boba who had once traded spots with Cody, back when they were identical, who had once let Cody have a taste of his life, of a life being something other than a mindless copy. Boba who had seen his father killed in combat and fell into the wrong sort of crowd.

Boba who had helped kill Ponds. Boba who hadn’t been able to pull the trigger.

Manda - he was still a child, out there alone and picking fights with the likes of Cad Bane. He was still a brother, a free brother without family on his side.

Cody lowers the datapad slowly, his attention on the bounty hunter, and when he speaks, his voice is gravelly. “How much for a head start?”

He finds Boba on Vanqor, hidden away in a small apartment and nursing his wounds. He’d left Obi-Wan and the ik’aade on the Jate’kara, docked in the hangar, and sent Threepio, Artoo, and Arfour to collect the supplies they’d need to look after a teenager while he hunts his brother down.

He finds Boba bedridden and feverish, surrounded by the smell of sick, and as weak as a Tooka kitten. The owner of the building, an elderly Rodian, hovers worriedly behind him; she had been trying to care for him, Cody knows, but didn’t know much about medical care for Humans, hadn’t had the money for the proper bacta for a Human either. She’d been glad that family had shown up to get him the help he needed.

“Thank you.” He mutters to the Rodian, passing her a pouch of credits, before stepping further into the room. He doesn’t need to turn to know the woman had given them privacy.

Cody grimaces with disgust as he pulls his buy’ce off, staring at the child absolutely swimming in ratty clothes too big for his body, and the pile of damaged beskar’gam piled in the corner. Boba’s pupils are dilated, his face so pale it’s unhealthy and gray, and limp curls are matted to his forehead with a mixture of sweat and puss, originating from the infected wound on his temple that the Rodian woman had tried to wrap.

The whole room stinks, and Cody wonders just how long his  vod had been bedridden.

“Boba.” He calls, forcing delirious eyes to meet his own, and Cody winces at the heat rolling off of his skin, hot enough to feel even through his gloves when he places a hand on the teenager’s sunken cheek.

The kid blinks at him slowly, confused. “Buir?” Boba warbles thickly, tears rising in his eyes, and Cody isn’t going to touch  that with a ten foot pole. Instead, he turns his eyes to the crusty gauze wrapped around his head, gently peeling it away, and immediately hisses in sympathy. The bone had caved in slightly, the skin around it burnt, and at some point, the skin had been split open, ragged and painfully swollen, allowing old pus to crust over it.

“Dank ferrick, Boba, what did you do to yourself?” Cody hisses - he hadn’t brought the supplies he’d need to deal with this here. He’d have to carry Boba back to the ship. He curses again, replacing his buy’ce to bundle the boy up with his dirty sheets, noting absently that he’d have to burn everything Boba is wearing once he’d gotten him cleaned up, but for now, it’s not safe to leave Boba where he is and in this state. Karga wouldn’t be giving him much of a head start, and soon there would be bounty hunters out for his brother’s blood, looking to gain the fame of killing the one to defeat Cad Bane.

Boba leans into the touch when Cody lifts him, curling into his chest with a watery hiccup, the heat of his skin scalding through his kute. “I missed you Buir.” He rasps, head dropping against Cody’s shoulder. The kid is too light, too small, and Cody curses the Galaxy that had turned the happy boy he remembers from Kamino into this.

He had no lost love for Jango, no fond feelings for him, but Cody wishes he hadn’t made the choices he had, that had led to his death and to Boba being left alone in the Galaxy. He wishes Jango hadn’t died, if only for Boba.

He has a long road to recovery before him, but Cody would help him, would take care of him, because Boba is family.

Cody has very little family left.

Taglist: @a-mediocre-succulent @yellowisharo @spoofymcgee @roseofalderaan @everything-or-anything @bellablue42 @tumceteri-fratres @etainskirata @arkainea @phoenix1760 

[thisisthe-way]

Kings and Wizards

Title: Kings and Wizards Fandom: Star Wars (The Mandalorian) Rating: T Summary: Din Djarin has given Grogu to Luke Skywalker to train. But the connection between the new (reluctant) Mandalorian “king” and the “wizard” Jedi goes deeper than he ever could’ve imagined. And he’s about to learn just how deep.

“It’s time for you to go.”

Din turned his uncomfortably exposed face toward Bo-Katan when she spoke, his brows furrowing as he blinked back the few remaining tears in his troubled brown eyes, pushing the sorrow back and allowing sternness and confusion to fill them instead. He knew what was coming next. Cara seemed to as well, and she spoke before he could: “Can we not do this right now? He just watched his kid leave.” “Which is why I’m giving him a head-start,” Bo-Katan replied, unable to look Din in the face. Din knelt, picking up his helmet, but didn’t deposit it back on his head yet. He approached Bo-Katan and held the darksaber in one final attempt, letting her see all of the raw emotion on his face. “Take it. I yield. It’s over. You have your ship and your weapon.” And the only thing he’d wanted had just flown away with a Jedi. “It doesn’t work--” “Take it,” Din snapped, eyes flaring, his whole face contorting with the pain and frustration. Grogu had been his only priority. He didn’t want to be ruler of anything.

Bo-Katan didn’t move, but she was looking at him now, her knuckles going white as she clenched her fists behind her back. “I can’t, and if you stay, I’ll be forced to kill you and take it.” Din snorted a little and finally placed his helmet on, before attaching the saber to his belt and looking at Cara and Fennec. “Then I guess it is time to go.” The gleaming beskar and dark visor turned toward Bo-Katan and she could feel the cold gaze he was giving her through it. Bo pursed her lips as she watched their backs retreat toward the elevator. She didn’t want this. She glanced down at the unconscious form of Moff Gideon--he had caused this. He had known. Known if he engaged Mando in a battle, and he’d won the saber from him, she would have to then turn around and engage Mando as well. Known that they would instantly become enemies. She also knew that they hadn’t exactly been anything but reluctant allies to begin with, but she had never meant ill-will toward him. She had wanted him to get his child back. She knew all too well what it was like to lose family. It was a pain she didn’t wish on anyone. She looked at Koska as she heard one of the cruiser’s transports being “comandeered” by the fleeing group. She turned her eyes toward the viewport as it left, jumping to hyperspace to meet with Boba Fett and Slave One at a rendezvous point that had not been disclosed to Bo because they had always planned on parting ways with her keeping the cruiser for her purposes. She turned to Koska again. “We’ll give him one day’s head-start,” she murmured, and then turned toward the controls. After all, the ship was only half the battle. She still needed the saber before she could return to Mandalore. And that meant the hunt for that lonely, nameless Mandalorian--she never had asked his name, had she?--would have to begin in haste. She set coordinates for their own safe rendezvous and then sent the cruiser into hyperspace as Koska moved to lock the unconscious Gideon in the brig.

-----------

Nevarro

----------- “Your debt is repaid,” Din said to Boba-Fett as they stood in front of Slave One. “The kid is safe.” 

It stung, burned deeper than Din could really put to words, that he wasn’t with him. But even without all the fancy Force powers, he knew Grogu was in better hands with the Jedi than he would be with him. He knew Moff Gideon wasn’t the worst the Galaxy had to offer, especially with someone as powerful and innocent as the child. Worse would come. And not every enemy could be contained or felled by a blaster shot. 

Boba Fett nodded and looked at Fennec, who nodded and returned onto Slave One. Boba glanced at the other Mandalorian. “If you have any more trouble,” he clicked some buttons on his wrist-cuff, the electronics beeping and sending a signal to Din’s. “You can find me at these coordinates. If you can afford it.” The smirk was audible even with his helmet masking his face. And the deadpan expression was clear on Din’s visor as his helmet turned toward Boba’s. But he was a member of the Guild. He understood--there was a silent understanding and appreciation between them. Boba nodded once more before following Fennec onto his ship. In only moments, they left atmo, on their way to their next escapade. And Din Djarin was left on Nevarro, shipless, childless, with Bo-Katan’s darksaber attached to his hip. He turned and looked over at Cara Dune, who stood a few feet behind him, frowning apologetically toward him. “I can find you a lead on another ship,” she offered when he caught up to her, walking next to him now as they moved through the archway into the market of the small town. 

Din nodded. “I’ll need it. It won’t take Bo-Katan long to find me. I’d rather not bring that battle down on you or your people, Marshal,” he said, the humor evident in his voice when he reached her title. Cara snorted. “I’m not worried about Princess Tight-Ass,” she replied as they entered her office, and she stored her gun away in the corner, sitting down and putting her feet up on her desk. “Let me put some feelers out. Might even be able to find you one like the one you had.” 

Din paused as he fingered the small knob tucked into his belt. Grogu’s favorite toy. He chuckled, sadly, to himself, and then nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.” -----

Bracca ------

The little alien flying the transport shuttle was prattling in a language Din didn’t understand as he finally gave him his credits and rolled his eyes under his visor. “Alright, alright, here,” he said as he handed the credits over. He hoped this tip from Cara would pan out. As it was, Bracca was more known for scrapping old starships, not leaving them intact. But they had just received the old patrol gunship on site days prior according to Cara’s contact. So, it was possible, at worst, only a few things had been scrapped off of it so far. Din walked down the landing platform. The planet was entirely coated in old ships and scrap metal, and the entire upper-deck scaffolding of it was made from it, with old scrapping tools built into it. There were caves and crevices of metal everywhere and as Din traveled, ducking through these corridors of rust, it was hard to find anything resembling an office where he could haggle, or even ask about the gunship. Finally, he found a large platform where a makeshift office of sorts had been erected, and he ducked inside, causing many of the scrappers who were talking to the scrapyard’s owner to turn and look at him with a mix of curiosity and fear. The owner looked up. He was no older than 40, with flame red hair, gray peppered into the fiery locks. He was wearing a red poncho, but the proxemics in Din’s helmet alerted him to a weapon underneath--a very familiar weapon. Unfortunately familiar. Din’s eyes widened beneath his helmet and he turned to leave. “You must be the Mandalorian,” the man called out, before murmuring something to his guys with a grin, as they all flitted out to get back to work. “Marshal Dune said you’d be coming.”

Din paused and turned back to him. “You’re the one looking for the old military patrol ship,” he continued. “You’re in luck--we just received one not two days ago. And we’re so behind on our jobs as it were, we haven’t even started dismantling it yet.” Din kept his stance as relaxed as he could. “How much?” “For a fully intact ship that I could scrap and make four times as much on?” the man replied with a grin as he led him out of the make-shift office and onto the platform, letting him look out into the piles of scrap where the unscrapped vessel lay nearly on top. “You’re the one costing me money, Mando. So you better make it worth my while.” Din was emotionally compromised after losing Grogu, it was true. But he was also still a Bounty Hunter, and a negotiator. He was a manipulator--and he was used to winning. “Then,” he began, visor trained on the man. “You let me have it free of charge and no one finds out there’s a Jedi running this backwater scrap heap.”

Despite Din thinking the man might flinch or fidget, instead, a smirk pulled on his lips, and he placed his hands on his hips, chuckling. “The New Republic is pretty accepting of the resurgence of Jedi, Mando. I’d be more concerned to be you.” “There are people out there hunting your kind,” Din replied. “And why are you so sure I’m a Jedi?” the man asked, and then noticed the helmet of Din’s armor tilting toward his hidden belt. “Ah, of course. Forgot those helmets aren’t just fancy head protection.” He unclipped his lightsaber from his belt and looked at it fondly, before nodding to the darksaber clipped to Din’s belt. “Seems you have one too--but you’re most definitely Mandalorian. That much is clear. Don’t judge a book by it’s lightsaber, Mando.” Din’s lip curled under his helmet. Damn you, Bo-Katan. He really hated having this thing. “How much do you want?” he grumbled, his voice tight with irritation. “Well, I don’t want to wheel and deal for too long--I’m going off planet soon, and I don’t really have time to go through all the bargaining before I leave. I’ll tell you what--” The man eyed the saber--and then the beskar spear on his back. For a moment, Din thought he was going to ask for one of them--or both. And despite hating the kriffing thing, Din felt hesitant to offer the saber to the man for a ship. The man turned his visibly bright eyes back on Din’s hidden face and grinned. “I’m feeling generous. And, like I said, I’m in a hurry. So, whatever you have to offer--you can take it off my hands.” “Wh--” “Don’t make me change my mind, Mando.” The slight tilt of the helmet clearly conveyed the confusion on Din’s masked countenance beneath as he handed him what was left of his money, and watched as the man called to his crane ships to lift it out and onto a nearby platform. Din made his way toward the ship, pausing for only a moment to look over his shoulder at the man. “Can I ask you something?” “Depends on what it is.” Din wanted to ask about Grogu’s call. How far had it gone? Had all of the leftover Jedi felt it? Yet, he realized, it was true what he had said--a lightsaber could be just another piece of scrap from a forgotten time that had been dumped on this world. There was no proof this man was a Jedi. He shook his head. “Forget it. Thanks--for the ship.” And with that, he turned and continued toward the ship. He was already the size of an ant, making his way up the ship’s ramp when the man heard the familiar hum of his ride--a long-bodied, angle-winged ship that landed on a different platform. He heard the gunship take off, glancing as he caught a glimpse of metal just before the hazy skies of Bracca disguised it. He gave his itinerary to his second in command--a hard-working Twi’lek male--and explained the next few weeks worth of work to him before making his way toward the long, sleek ship, smirking at the dark-skinned woman who emerged. “Cere.” He said. “Cal.” She replied. “Where to?” “Dathomir,” he said. ------ Outer Rim - Open Space

----- Well, she had given him a head-start. It had been about a week since receiving his new ship. He should have known purchasing the exact same model of ship meant putting a bigger target on his back. Bo-Katan would be tracking the transponder signals from ships like his. Of course she would. “It’s a damn laser sword,” Din grumbled to himself as he dodged blaster fire from a light cruiser chasing him through the open space, his hand gripping the knob on his console tightly--a knob he had replaced with Grogu’s. 

He felt one of the shots knick his engine, causing him a spiral, and he growled and slammed a hand down on his comms button, “Dank ferrik, Bo-Katan, this isn’t necessary! I told you you could have the damn thing!” ‘It doesn’t work like that, Mando!’ came the response. ‘This is the only way.’ Din snorted to himself at the similarity to his tribe’s saying, realizing more and more there was no real way. His own way would have been…

Having Grogu here with him. He just wanted his son. His consoles began to beep--he realized in his spiral he’d been pulled into the gravitational field of a planet nearby.  “Dank ferrik,” he cursed again as he went down, taking another shot to the engine as Bo-Katan’s cruiser followed. Pressing a few buttons on the console and pulling on the steering, he was able to stabilize the ship as it came down hard onto a craggy, rocky, red-orange surface and noticed Bo-Katan’s ship hover for a moment in the blood-red sky before turning and gunning it out of atmo and away. He doubted it had anything to do with changing her mind about her mission to take the Darksaber from him. No, even without Jedi senses, he was very aware that the--darkness--of the planet he was now trapped on more likely had something to do with it. He stood and exited the Razor Crest II--which, really, he just called the Razor Crest--and looked up at his engines. They were billowing smoke from where Bo-Katan had ruined them with her ship’s blaster fire. And now, he was trapped on a planet with little to no vegetation, that seemed to have a perpetual blood sky and dark aura. He shuddered a little under his beskar, and checked to ensure all of his weapons--even the damn saber--were on his person. He had a feeling he was going to need them. He ignited his jetpack and trailed upward into the sky, flying over the sharp, uneven mountainous surface of the red-drenched planet, over the strange trees and a few ugly, ill-willed creatures as well. He even saw a few strange humanoids he didn’t recognize--men with tattooed faces and horns. Something about them felt familiar but he couldn’t place it. He landed in one of the few areas on this side of the planet with vegetation--odd, spiraling trees that had no real leaves, and huge trunks. Their spindly branches had something hanging from them--bulbs that seemed to pulse oddly. Din paused in his stride, his brow furrowing under his helmet. The bulbs began to glow, and suddenly, falling from within them were--”Dank ferrik,” he cursed, when he realized they were forms. Humanoid forms. Female humanoid forms. And they were definitely dead. They began to chase him through the forest, each body enflamed by green energy, shrieking as they ran through the trees with inhuman speed after him. He ignited his jetpack and went to take off, but something--someone--leaped on him. The weight wasn’t light or bony like the corpses that were chasing him. It had real heft--like a person. Suddenly, he heard the familiar whirr of a lightsaber, and his helmet swiveled, looking over his shoulder to find--a woman standing on his back as he flew, crouched with one knee on his jetpack, the other foot standing on his shoulder.

Her ice blue eyes seared into him, the yellow saber in her hand raised, her pale-white skin mostly exposed save for the black short-suit and red tunic wrapped around her midsection. She had the palest blonde, nearly white, hair growing out of her head. “You aren’t welcome here,” her low, raspy, feminine voice hissed as she brought the lightsaber down. Din threw one arm up and blocked the strike just as the woman brought the blade down into his jetpack, and cursed when it didn’t penetrate. “What are you?!” she hissed in irritation, and then felt a pull from something beyond the two of them, looking up and leaping off of the back of the man with a flip as green energy surrounded the jetpack, snapping the straps of it.  Din felt himself lose altitude immediately as he went plummeting to the terra firma below, tumbling, and groaning. He pushed himself up almost immediately, and grabbed the Darksaber off of his belt, igniting it to fend off the woman and the corpses, but found the corpses at a stand-still behind his attacker making her look like the grand general of an undead armor. After a few moments of intense staring between the two of them--another came through the crowd of the undead--this one was younger than the woman who had attacked him, though their Dathomirian biology made it nearly impossible to tell, and was wrapped from head to toe in red and black. Her own hair was shrouded by a hood, and she had the green energy crackling from her fingers. “Stand down,” she said to the older woman, who de-ignited her saber and bowed a little. “This is the one he was waiting for.” Din rescinded the blade of the Darksaber back into it’s hilt and clipped it to his belt. He watched as the corpse army was returned to their pods with care, and then the younger woman dropped her hood to reveal her entire face, and a crop of gray-white hair that went half-way down her back. “My name is Merrin. I am the Mother of this clan of two.” “I don’t know what any of that means,” came the electronically amplified voice of the Mandalorian through his helmet. “What are you?” “We are Nightsisters--the rightful rulers of this planet,” Merrin replied. “Welcome to Dathomir.” In that moment, that strange feeling of familiarity at seeing the strange men on the cliffs formed into a full-fledged memory of the Armorer and her teachings: “Our planet was taken--overrun by a man with red skin, black markings and devilish horns. He handed our home over to the Empire. We are wanted men and women--hunted.” “Then why do we take work from the Empire?” a young Din asked.

“This is the way,” the Armorer replied. “It is guild law--we work for those who can afford to pay. But remember, little foundling, we never break the creed of the Mandalorian, no matter what job we are given.” Din had done so. But only once. When he handed a foundling right into the Empire’s hands--his multiple removals of his helmet since, notwithstanding. He had regretted that decision, and gone straight back for Grogu. And his sect had come to his aid. Because their laws far outranked the necessity to bounty hunt. But he remembered now--Dathomirian. A Dathomirian had upheaved Mandalore. He wanted to feel a deeper sense of anger, remorse and frustration toward the women in front of him--or the men he’d seen on the cliffs. But he wasn’t truly Mandalorian. He was a foundling. He had never lived on Mandalore. Being Mandalorian to him was a creed--not a race. And even now, he questioned what being Mandalorian truly was to  him anymore. Removing his helmet for Grogu had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Necessary, even. Yet, when he heard Bo-Katan’s voice in his head calling him a child of the Watch, degrading him for his refusal to remove it, he wanted to hide under it forever. A battle raged inside him over what was even right anymore. 

And now this--Dathomirian women standing before him, reminding him of what his people had lost before they had even saved him. The battle only grew deeper. “What do you want?” Din asked, eyeing the older one especially. She seemed--unpredictable. Erratic. Her blue eyes were sharp and icy. She was one wrong step or word away from attacking again, kept at bay only by the words of the younger. He wondered why. “I need you to come with me, Mandalorian. He’s waiting for you,” Merrin said, again alluding to some he that Din had no idea about. Who was this he? As if sensing his question, the younger offered a bit of a wry smile. “You’ll be surprised but not entirely shocked, Mandalorian. This whole ordeal is about your son.” Din grew rigid suddenly, and he took a step forward, heavy and purposeful, despite knowing one wrong move could make the older woman lash out. Which she nearly would have if the younger’s hand has not paused her forward motion. DIn spoke, nearly snapped: “What about the kid?” “All will be answered, I promise. You have to come with us, though.” Din was still tense, defensive now that Grogu had been brought up, but he nodded, unable to deny his curiosity, and followed the women through the trees. “I don’t trust him,” grumbled the older woman as she walked next to the younger. “No Mandalorian would ever trust our kind after what Maul did to their planet.” “He’s different,” Merrin whispered back. “He is a foundling; he never lived upon Mandalore. He may know the story but he has no memory of the incident to give him pause in at least listening to what we have to say.” She glanced at the older woman. “Don’t forget who the Mother here is, Ventress.” The older, Ventress, gave a nod. “My apologies.” “You have a lot to atone for; and much to repay,” Merrin continued. “Don’t forget.” “And you don’t forget the promise you made to me,” Ventress replied. “The promise your mate made to me.” The younger chuckled, and smirked at her. “One thing at a time, Ventress. One thing at a time.”

It was hours of walking through the forests when they emerged on a small, abandoned village in the middle of Dathomir--the Nightsister village, that had been abandoned for decades save for one small girl who had grown into a woman during the Clone Wars, and had been found by a young Jedi padawan who had been trying to find his place in the galaxy, and pay back the life he had been spared by the protection of his own Jedi master. The Nightsisters led Din to a small house, made of the same rock and stone as the red-rimmed cliffs of the dour planet. They ducked inside, and Din was met with the smell of food cooking--and was taken aback by the cheer of--was that a child? “Mom!” came a cry, as a young girl with the same pale white skin as the two women, and a shock of long red hair, came bolting out of the next room over and threw herself into the Nightsister, Merrin’s, arms. She was no older than ten or eleven, and she radiated joy at seeing her mother. She reminded Din of Grogu. “Meelah,” the woman said with warmth, kissing her head. “Where is your father?” “You found him,” came a new voice--a very familiar voice to Din--as a very familiar red-headed man stepped out of the back room, cleaning his hands on his poncho, and smirked at the Mandalorian. “Good to see you again, Mando.” “....you are a Jedi, then,” Din said. “You knew where I would end up.” “Mm, in a sense,” Cal Kestis said as he approached the group, watching Ventress slump, huffily, into a chair--and then warm a little herself when Meelah bounced up into her lap. If there was anyone the Sith-apprentice-turned-bounty-hunter had a soft spot for, it was her Sisters. And the young Mother, and her child, had a special place in her heart. She had died--or gotten very close to it--when she had been buried like her Sisters on Dathomir--lovingly buried by hands that had once loved her in one of the burial pods. Little had she known that the young girl’s powers were growing. Somehow, her magic had inadvertently kept her alive--barely--and in stasis. Five years later, when the young man had riled the young Mother’s anger, and she had released the corpses of their Sisters, she had been released as well. Alive. Unexplainable--a bittersweet miracle of the Force. Because Ventress--Asajj Ventress--had already lost everything by then. Order 66 had been executed. All of the Jedi, save for Cal Kestis, were dead. 

He was dead. The owner of the loving hands that had buried her five years prior. Her Quinlan. Jedi Master Vos.

It didn’t help matters that the young Mother had begun a romance with Cal. Or that Cal shared Vos’ very unique Force abilities: his psychometry. She saw too much of herself and Vos in the couple. But it also had given her a soft spot for their child. The child that, despite herself, she would have given anything to have with Vos. If he had lived. If she could find him, now. Still, a part of her felt a tug from the Force. As if she had counted Quinlan out too soon, as if he were still out there. But then, would he not have felt her too? Come looking for her? Had he moved on--forgotten about her? She wouldn’t blame him. Still, she wanted to find him. Or at least what had happened to him. For her own closure. And so, she had sworn herself to the new Mother. To Merrin. In return for her service, Cal had been using his powers to try and find Quinlan. So far, no such luck. But at least Ventress had her Sisters back. Merrin, and Meelah. She would kill anyone who might try to harm them. “What does that mean? In a sense?” Din asked, snapping Ventress from her thoughts and memories. “Just because we Jedi have a certain handle on the Force doesn’t mean the things it shows us are always 100% correct,” Cal replied as he approached Merrin and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. “When you came to Bracca, I got a feeling you’d be led here. Which is good, because this world is, despite it’s appearance, a safe haven from the leftover dregs of the Empire. It lives somewhere between fear and inconsequence.” He shrugged. “So they don’t touch it. They don’t even know the Nightsisters have a new Mother.” “What does any of that mean?” Din asked again, the frustration now clear in his voice. “This place,” the younger Dathomirian woman said, “used to be ruled by a matriarchal society of magic-wielders known as the Nightsisters. We use the Force in a much darker, more mystical way than the Jedi. My Sisters--they were ruled by a Clan Mother. The most powerful of the Nightsisters.” She glanced at Ventress. “....they were all slaughtered during the Clone Wars.”

A flash of his parents’ faces appeared behind Din’s eyes. “I was all that remained--or so I thought,” Merrin said, looking at Ventress. “Because I was the only living, practicing Nightsister left on Dathomir, the last of the Clan Mother’s powers were inherited unto me. I became the Mother. All things on Dathomir bow to my will now.” “Because the Nightsisters were slaughtered, and the Nightbrothers are too primitive in their machinations without a Mother to guide them, the Empire didn’t think Dathomir was much of a threat,” Ventress mumbled. “They left it alone to rot on it’s own. But Merrin preserved it to the best of her abilities.” “And?” Din said, glancing at the other two near Merrin. “And you’ve met Cal. And this is Ventress--Asajj Ventress.” Merrin said, looking at the older woman. “She was one of my Sisters in the pods, when Cal brazenly stepped foot on my planet without permission. When I released my fallen Sisters on him--she emerged in tact.” “How?” Din asked--none of this Force fodder made any sense to him. “Not entirely sure,” Cal said. “It’s speculated that a connection to the dark side can keep someone alive if they have enough rage inside of them to will it to. But the Nightsister magic lands somewhere in between light and dark. Ventress has the magic in her despite barely using it. And she used to be a Sith. It could be any combination of her will to live, her former connection to the dark side, and the strength of Merrin’s magic as the Mother that kept her alive. We don’t know for sure.” Din sat down--his head was reeling now. He remembered the other Jedi woman, Ahsoka Tano, mentioning the dark side. But she had said it with a sort of fearful reverence. As if it were something to be avoided, because the power of it was too great. Too dark. And yet this Jedi--he was in cahoots with those known to tap into the dark. And he didn’t seem phased or frightened at all. He had even had a child with one of them. It was almost as confusing as his sudden uncertain understanding of the Mandalorian creed. It seemed more and more that the galaxy was settling on middle-grounds rather than bold black and white strokes. But was it supposed to be that way? “Fine--fine, alright--then why am I here?” Din asked. “Why do you think your Force-thing brought me to you twice, Jedi?” “Simple: two things,” Cal said as he sat down at a small table in the middle of the room and looked at Din straight in his helmet, as if he could see the eyes and face beneath perfectly. “I was once looking for Force-sensitive children left in the galaxy, to try and rebuild the Jedi Order. I abandoned that mission, realizing that once upon a time, we, as Force sensitives, didn’t have a choice but to be raised in the Temple, raised as Jedi. I didn’t think it was my right to take that choice away again. Which brings me to point number two…” Din’s brows furrowed under his helmet. “I knew Grogu,” Cal said, finally, and then shrugged. “Not well, mind you. I had seen him around the Temple. Training, as I did, before I was chosen as a padawan and taken to finish my training on my Master’s light cruiser above Bracca. But I knew him--he and I were two of the few lucky ones who weren’t slaughtered that night.” Din leaned back heavily in his chair as he looked into Cal’s face--saw the sincerity, and the pain. The memory of losing everything. Then, he straightened. “Okay, so?” “Do you know who you gave your son to, Mando?” Cal asked, frowning a little. “The Jedi you let him leave with?” “No,” Din admitted. “I don’t know anything about any of this.” Cal leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “His name is Luke Skywalker,” he murmured, “and he’s the son of the man who killed all of the younglings that night in the Temple.” Din tensed immediately, and shot up, and Cal got to his feet as well, throwing up his hands to stop him. “Wait!” Cal said, shaking his head. “It’s okay; Luke is a good man--I’ve sensed his sincerity. He isn’t like his father was at the end. But there is something about him that troubles me.” Cal glanced at Merrin, and frowned. “He does want to restore the Jedi Order. Train younglings in the ways of the Jedi, the ways that constricted so many of us before. I realized after becoming a Knight--and then meeting Merrin, that the ways of the original Order were stifling.” He looked at Din. “Attachments are forbidden. No familial, or romantic, attachments are allowed. Master and apprentice only.” Din’s heart sank into his stomach as he remembered Ahsoka’s words on Corvus. I can’t train him, she had said, his attachment to you is too strong. “Unfortunately, Luke allows himself one exception to this rule,” Cal continued as he stood and picked his daughter up off of Ventress’ lap and held her. “His twin sister, who he is also training.” He chuckled as Meelah laid her head on his shoulder. “Basically, what I’m saying is his relationship with the Force is an enigma. It’s unclear how he’ll train Grogu. What boundaries he’ll insist on. And he isn’t the only Force wielder who heard Grogu’s call.” He smirked when he saw the helmet jerk up to look at him. “You were going to ask me that on Bracca,” he said, “but you hesitated because you didn’t know if I was trustworthy.” “We all felt the pull,” Merrin said, and glanced at Ventress. “All of us.” Din suddenly put two-and-two together. “...it wasn’t just Jedi who felt it.” “No. And I think that puts your little green son in a lot of danger,” Cal murmured. “Luke Skywalker is a hero--a very powerful Jedi. But even he wouldn’t be able to fight off an onslaught of Dark side users if they all descended on Grogu all at once. He’ll need help.” Din stood, suddenly resolute in what he had to do. He looked at the Force wielders before him--the Jedi, the former Sith, the Nightsister--and asked, “Are you offering? Because--” He paused, and glanced at Meelah, tucked against her father. He was reminded of holding Grogu in those last moments before he handed him to Luke. “--that kid means everything to me. With, or without your help, I’m going to look after him.” Cal glanced at Merrin, who approached him and Meelah, and placed one hand on each of their backs. She had determination in her eyes as well. Cal nodded, and then looked at Din and smirked. “Then, let’s get started.” 

[son-of-alderaan]

The battle between the Jedi and the Sith has been a constant in the Skywalker saga, but there’s a vital third class of heroes and villains that populate the galaxy: the smugglers, scrappers, bounty hunters, and scoundrels who make a living on the edges of a war. The life of a rogue is tough in the Star Wars universe, and the masked Zorri Bliss (Keri Russell)—revealed exclusively in Annie Leibovitz’s new portfolio from the set of Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker—is no exception. 

In The Rise of Skywalker, Russell is reunited with J.J. Abrams—the man who made her a household name when he first cast her as a sentimental college undergrad in the TV show Felicity 20 years ago. Abrams has already transformed Russell’s career once, when he broke apart her innocent image with a short but memorable fight sequence in 2006’s Mission Impossible III. “When J.J. calls so unexpectedly,” Russell said last summer, “cool things happen.”

Many years and six seasons of the Emmy-winning spy drama The Americans later and Russell is not only adept at action, she’s well practiced in the art of keeping secrets. That would be why, until now, the only thing she let slip about her Star Wars character was “I do have the coolest costume. I will say that.”

She’s not wrong. The brass detailing and deep aubergine of Zorri Bliss’s suit invoke the glamour of Laura Dern’s Admiral Holdo, while the familiar silhouette calls to mind the bounty hunter Boba Fett. Even more hardcore Star Wars fans will notice a similarity between Russell’s costume and the one worn by the short-lived female bounty hunter Zam Wesell in Attack of the Clones.

Her mask helps Bliss disguise both her identity and motives—a useful feature for anyone who might want to blend in at a shady cantina or the Thieves’ Quarter of Kijimi. Ever since the balance of power in the galaxy was thrown off by the invasion of the First Order and the destruction of the New Republic, it has become very profitable for scoundrels to avoid picking a side during the escalating war between Leia’s Resistance and Kylo Ren’s forces. If Benicio Del Toro’s The Last Jedi character taught us anything, it’s not to trust a rogue, but we’ll have to see whether Zorri Bliss chooses the dark side, the light, or, most likely, herself when The Rise of Skywalker hits theaters.

[asycuwish-moved]

closed: @smckeandmirrxrs​ 

          He had been in the outer rim for far too long; Boba had to admit he missed the tensed muscles that came with being in the hustle and bustle of a busy town. Not that Tatooine was anything but a wasteland with very few interesting parties to keep his eye out on. Lying down in the sands, allowing the suns to soak up in his flesh Boba could hear scrappers start to pick apart the Slave I. The ship itself had aged quite past its prime and Boba had been busy the past few months trying to revive the vessel.

          “Aye!” The man hollered, shooting his blaster in their general direction before watching them scatter in fear. Sitting erect, Fett rubbed his one shoulder and eyed his surroundings when a familiar scent tickled his nostrils. “Well, well, well.. If it isn’t a particular blondey trying to steal my ship again.” He spoke in a louder voice to catch her attention as he stood in a fluid motion now brushing the sand off of his clothing.

[silverwings22]

Angel With A Shotgun: Chapter 22 Tranyc

Series warnings: Smut, language, Order 66, medical trauma, abuse, Canon typical violence

Chapter Warnings: near death experience, descriptions of slavery, mild body horror, grief

Translations: Tranyc: sunny or literally "Star burned"

ad'ika: little one

verd'ika: little soldier

Ni kar'tayl su: I know/love you

Kaysh guur' skraan: He loves his food

Previous chapter: https://silverwings22.tumblr.com/post/669967646462181376/angel-with-a-shotgun-chapter-21-gone-with-the

Next Chapter: https://silverwings22.tumblr.com/post/669970357616279552/angel-with-a-shotgun-the-legend-of-angel-gar

Three days ago, Angel had been so sure of herself. But now… They’d run out of water this morning, and she was so sunburned she was sure her shirt was fused to her blistering back. Koty was mostly protected in his little sheet tent, and she’d given him the last of the water so he was in a much better mood than his suffering mother. But they were still at least a days travel from Mos Eisley, and Angel’s legs had given out. She lay on her stomach under the unforgiving suns, half dazed and pretty sure she was dying. The chain of her collar was so heavy dragging behind her that it pulled her head into the grit.

“Mama…?” Koty murmured. “Mama, you sick?”

“Just a little….” She smiled faintly. Fuck she was going to die out here and leave him alone for the scavengers of the desert… “Mama just needs a minute and I’ll… I’ll crawl. We’ll keep going…” Her arms felt so weak when she pushed up and she gritted her teeth when she heard a dull rumble. Couldn’t the desert carrion wait until she was actually dead before fighting over her bones? Instead of a herd of growling massifs, she found herself looking at a rumbling Sandcrawler.

Jawas…

It stopped right in front of the pitiful little family and opened, the little creatures coming with their tittering noises and encircling them. Angel spoke a little Jawaese and managed to mumble about her escape. When she explained she’d been the Mandalorian that helped Huttslayer Leia kill Jabba, there were chirpy trills of delight all around.

After a while of negotiating, they were willing to take her and Koty to the outskirts of Mos Eisley and give them a little water for killing him and for taking out a couple of Fortuna’s goons. Apparently he was much hated among the little creatures, his cruelty to them even greater than his predecessors.

Koty was shy with the Jawas around, clinging to his mother. He’d never seen Jawas before and he didn’t understand what they were saying. “Mama… awe they gonna huwt us?”

She lay down in their hold with her son snuggled to her side, in the blessed shade for a moment, and they took turns sipping at a canteen. Little jawas pointed and cooed at them, and a matronly female patted Angel’s knee as they went about their business. They were scrappers, they’d been circling the sarlacc pit in Carkoon for the last a few days to see what bodies could be looted that the creature didn’t eat. Part of Angel was grateful that Boba was inside the monster, in a twisted way. He’d have lost his mind to think of his fathers armor stolen by Jawas, just to be sold to someone else. His fathers memory meant everything to him…

He’s with Jango again now… I’m left behind, but maybe he’s happy… I hope he is.

“No baby. These are Jawas. They’re friendly, they like to trade. If you leave your ship unattended they might think it’s abandoned and scrap it, but they won’t hurt you unless you hurt them first.” She said quietly, stroking his hair. “Your dad and I used to trade with Jawas all the time.”

When they were within an hour of the city, the Jawas let Angel and Koty out and bid them good luck, heading back towards Carkoon. She picked her son up and held him close, then wobbled unsteadily towards the walled city. Just a little longer… a few more steps…

That’s my girl. She could almost hear Boba coaxing her. One more step, I know you can, ad’ika. Come on.

She drew a lot of eyes as she tottered into the city. Her slave outfit and dragging collar and leash drew eyes, it wouldn’t be long before someone did mental math and figured out the slave Fortuna’s men were surely still hunting was the one carrying a frightened looking child through the city. They needed to be somewhere safe where Angel could regain her strength by then.

But she was fucking lost by now. It had been three years since she’d been in this Maker-forsaken city, she couldn’t remember which street led to the market and which led to the residential area… and she had no credits, she needed a doctor and new clothes and she was so hungry and tired…

The first door she saw she smacked a hand into, not even sure if she was knocking. It slid open and a woman a little older than her, with a head of frizzy hair, poked her head out. “What?” The woman muttered.

Angel blinked at her, eyes crossing as her body reached the end of it’s resilience. “‘M sorry… help…” she collapsed, going down on her knees on the street. Koty set up a wail as he slipped from her arms and landed on his butt, watching his mother wobble again and then collapse on her face.

The woman blinked. She was a mechanic, not a doctor, but this woman was in bad shape. Any fool could see her blistered skin and shuddering. “Oh for Force’s sake… alright, but you better have a real good story when you wake up, missy.” She grabbed Angel by the arms and dragged her into the hangar bay. “Come on, kiddo. I’ll patch your Mama up if you tell me your name.”

He toddled after her, tears on his cheeks. “I’m Koty…. Koty Fett.”

Angel woke up on her stomach on a mechanic’s creeper, inside an office. She was immediately alarmed that she was topless and started to sit up, but the agonizing pain lancing through her back stopped her in her tracks. “K-koty?”

“Easy, missy. You’re not looking too good right now.” Said a rough but kind female voice. “I took your shirt off and half your upper back came with it.”

“W-where am I…?” Angel looked around with her eyes, unwilling to move her head and disturb her back. “Where’s my son?” The woman with the frizzy hair brought her a canteen with a straw.

“Here, drink. You’re in Mos Eisley, in my hangar bay. I’m Peli Motto. Your little one’s asleep right over there in the office chair, see?” She pointed and Angel strained her eyes to look, finally spotting her precious little one snuggled down with a blanket, lips purple from snacking on some kind of fruit Peli had offered him. “He didn’t want to leave you, even when I made him a bed upstairs. So I gave him a jorgan fruit and some juice, I hope that’s okay.”

Angel nodded weakly, drinking as much as she could as fast as she could, the cool water turning her brain back from the pile of dry cotton it had been. “T-thank you, Miss Motto…” She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand shakily. “I’m Angel… I’m sorry if we bothered you, we were just lost...”

“Lost, huh? You got anywhere else to go?”

“N-no… I haven’t been in the city for three years…” She turned her eyes away. “I… I was a bounty hunter, until I was captured. Then… I was a slave.”

“That explains the collar and the outfit.” Peli mused. “Tell you what. I need some help around here. I’ll patch you up, you help around the shop, I’ll split the labor fees with you. Cost of parts comes out of my budget, so that’s all mine. But labor, you can do.”

Angel blinked, dumbfounded. “You don’t even know me. I could be a murderer or thief and you’re just gonna help me…. Just like that?” .

“If you were a bounty hunter, you can fight. If you’re a mom, you can cook and clean. I need that kind of help, and you need somewhere to stay… and maybe someone with a plasma cutter to get that collar off your neck.”

Angel smiled faintly, worrying the metal digging into her throat with shaky fingers. “Yeah, I can fight and cook and clean...”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Honestly, it’s lonely here by myself. I’ll look out for you guys, you keep me company.” Peli smiled. The dark skinned woman was younger than her by probably five to ten years or so, and she’d clearly seen some hard truths. Peli figured if someone showed her some kindness, she might not end up becoming a terrifying force of nature that bathed all of the galaxy in the darkness of her rage.

Peli grinned. “Then you can protect the shop and help me around the living quarters. I’ve got two spare rooms, actually. One’s full of junk, but the other’s move-in ready. Even got a spare bed.”

“You’re sure, Miss Motto?” Angel looked at Koty. “I appreciate it, I really do. But there’s a lot of baggage that comes with me. Not counting my son…”

She’d used to hang out with Crazy Ben Kenobi whenever he’d wander into the city, and he talked about stuff like that all the time. Time to put it into practice.

“Thank you.” Angel murmured faintly, closing her eyes. She could relax for a split second, which was good because she was aching and hot and everything hurt...

She heard a bottle of bacta cream opening and tensed as Peli gently started spreading it over her savaged back, clucking softly over the blisters. “So what made you take a walk out in the desert, anyway?”

“I… They wanted to put my baby in a cage...” She whispered. “I left my armor behind to get him out. He’s more important than beskar...”

“Beskar? You’re Mandalorian? Well damn, I didn’t know I had a certified badass in here.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that....”

“That means you’ve got good stories. I’m gonna like having you around..” Peli chuckled, continuing to carefully apply the medication to her new friend's burned skin. “Where’d you learn to fight?”

“Grand Army of the Republic...” She flinched at a particularly deep blister and gritted her teeth. “S-sorry, stings…”

“I know, I’m sorry hon.” Peli squeezed her hand gently. “Just rest. Once the worst of these blisters close up, I’ll put a fire blanket over you and cut that collar off. Then you can finish recovering in the bed upstairs after I get the room cleaned up. The pit droids can keep bringing you food and water. Deal?”

“Vor entye” Angel closed her eyes. Peli was so kind… She reminded Angel of Lisha. She had to survive, for these strange and open hearted new friends. For her baby boy snoozing in a chair, refusing to leave her even when offered something like a real bed and food…

Boba, you’d be so proud of the person he’s becoming.

Peli didn't know much about kids, but she liked having Koty around. He was the absolute sweetest thing, often patting her pit droids to thank them for their help. As Angel recovered, Peli was privy to sweet conversations between mother and son.

"Mama?" The tot waddled over to where his mother was tracing outlines on a piece of scrap durasteel with an oil marker.

"Yes, verd'ika?"

"Wat makin? "

Angel chuckled and set the scrap aside, pulling her toddler into her lap. Peli had gotten them both new clothes and Angel was starting to feel like herself again with a new tunic and trousers tucked into boots. She just needed one thing… "I'm making armor. " She explained.

"Why?" He got comfy on her knees and looked up.

Her smile softened. "Bib Fortuna stole mine and I can't get it back yet. But one day I will. Until then, we're Mandalorians. Armor is part of who we are."

He looked up at her with those shining blue eyes, and for the millionth time since he entered the galaxy she wondered what weird jetii magic the crystal had done to her to color those eyes. "Why? "

She chuckled. Toddlers. "We're warriors. Armor keeps our bodies safe, and shows that we're strong. Sometimes, it connects us to our families."

"How?" He grinned. He loved these question games, even if sometimes he didn't have a clue what his mom was talking about. She wasn't used to talking to kids, but she always had patience to keep explaining until he figured it out.

"Well, my brothers…. Your uncles gave me my armor. So when I wear it, I always think of them. And your dad had armor his dad left to him." She bit her lip. "I wish I had his armor to give you when you get bigger. But maybe I'll have mine back, and we can modify it for you."

He snuggled into her arms and cuddled. He was still so tiny, barely more than a baby… but he was so smart and sweet. Peli had joked every mother thought their kid was some kind of prodigy, but Angel really believed Koty was extraordinary. "I love you. Ni kar'tayl su."

"Ni kar'tayw su, Mama." He giggled, little voice curling around the syllables of their mother tongue in adorable mispronunciation. She smiled and kissed his curls lightly.

"You're such a good boy, Koty." She murmured. "I'm so proud of you all the time. Your dad would be so proud of you, too."

He looked up again. "You sad, Mama?" His hands patted her cheeks gently. "Miss Daddy?"

She nodded. She never lied to her boy, and he always just seemed to know things… "Yeah. I miss him a whole lot. We were going to go see the galaxy together, and build a nice home to raise you in. It's not fair you didn't get to see how much he already loved you."

Koty stood up on her thighs and booped his forehead against hers. She put her arms around his little body to hold him steady, closing her eyes. "Not awone, Mama." He said in a surprisingly measured voice for a child so small.

"Thank you, baby. I needed to hear that." Angel whispered. "You're so smart. Just like your Dad."

Koty giggled again and hugged her around her neck, careful of the bandages still around her still- healing collar marks. She was reasonably sure they'd scar, but it was a worthy price to pay for their freedom. "Snack, Mama?"

"Kaysh guur' skraan." She chuckled, scooping him under his bottom and standing. "But I think a snack could be arranged for my little warrior."

Koty squealed with delight when she tossed him in the air and caught him again. Peli watched from playing cards in the office with her pit droids and chuckled.

Who'd have ever figured she'd be roommates with a Mandalorian and mini-Mando? Or that she'd think of the woman as her best friend within only a few short weeks?

[jingleboi]

★ FILL IN THE QUESTIONS AS IF YOU ARE BEING INTERVIEWED FOR AN ARTICLE AND YOU WERE YOUR MUSE.

TAGGED BY: @healiingbeat

TAGGING: Anybody that wants to do it, I guess? I’m always anxious I’ll miss someone so do it if you see it.

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME? “Junkrat.”

2. WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME? “Fuck you. Jamison doesn’t even sound like a name, it don’t mean anythin’. Now Junkrat? That’s a name ya can sink ya teeth into.”

3. DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU’RE CALLED THAT? “Because I was the best little scrapper in our Junkertown. They could send me further down the omnium than anyone. I was the only one it didn’t fuck up when they tried. Hehe.”

4. ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN? “Are you flirtin’ with me?”

5. WHAT ARE YOUR POWERS AND ABILITIES? “I have FIREPOWER! AHAHAHAHAAAAA. ”

6. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES? “Orange and glowin’, just like everyone else?”

7. HAVE YOU EVER DYED YOUR HAIR? “I pull it out sometimes ‘cos it’s pretty dead on it’s own already anyway.”

8. DO YOU HAVE ANY FAMILY MEMBERS? “Nuh. Nobody like me out there!”

9. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? “Yeah, I have a pig named Roadhog, he makes the sweetest little oinks and snuffles when he’s killin’ a man.”

10. TELL ME ABOUT SOMETHING YOU DON’T LIKE. “FUCK OMNICS! FUCK GOVERNMENT! FUCK THE SYSTEM! FUCK THE SUITS! FUCK THE COPPERS!”

11. DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES OR ACTIVITIES YOU DO IN YOUR SPARE TIME? “I blow stuff up. Sometimes I like lookin’ at those fact books. An’ I like buildin’ shit.”

12. HAVE YOU EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE? “ hahaha.”

13. HAVE YOU EVER… KILLED ANYONE? “AHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAAHHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA.”

14. WHAT KIND OF ANIMAL ARE YOU? “A majestic lion. I got the looks an’ the smarts. I’m king of the jungle!”

15. NAME YOUR WORST HABITS. “Sont have any mate. Me memory’s a bit shit, I guess?”

16. DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE? “Myself. Ya can’t rely on anyone else and there’s nobody worth lookin’ up to. I guess Roadie if I had to pick..”

17. GAY, STRAIGHT, OR BISEXUAL? “Dunno what any of those words mean, but ya said sex. So I’m guessing you wanna know who I do the dirty with? Well nobody who ain’t good-lookin’ and no suits. I have standards, y’know.”

18. DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL? “What’s school?”

19. DO YOU EVER WANT TO MARRY AND HAVE KIDS SOMEDAY? “What? No. Ya don’t bring kids inta this. Besides, I’m prolly shootin’ blanks cos of the radiation.”

20. DO YOU HAVE ANY FANS? “Of course I do! I was on the telly and everything. A Moment in Crime, Crime Stoppers, the news...”

21. WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF? “The fuckin’ acid rain. Who wouldn’t be? Even the big bastards back home were, so it ain’t a weakness. I don’t have any weaknesses and I don’t fear anything!”

22. WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR? “This? Do folks usually wear more than one thing? Waste of bag space.”

23. DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE? “Nuh. I told ya, I don’t have any weaknesses.”

24. WHAT CLASS ARE YOU? “I’m classy. Uh, but the big ape said I had a disadvantaged backround on me sign up sheets, whatever that means..”

25. HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE? “I have Roadie... I think.”

26. WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE? “That’s such a random question, you are like, totally so random. Am I doin’ this right?”

27. FAVORITE DRINK? “Milk tea boba, half sweet. Don’t mind a stubby or two though, or water.”

29. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE? “The outside world.”

30. ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE? “Why do ya keep askin’ about me privates? Want me to whip em out and swing em about for ya too? Or do ya just wanna know what gets em goin’?”

31. WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN? “I’ve always wanted to visit the beach, but... I ain’t goin’ in the water.”

32. WHAT’S YOUR ‘TYPE’? “You really wanna see the great downunder, don’t ya? I like the ones who laugh at me jokes an’ trust me not ta fuck up.”

33. CAMPING, OR INDOORS? “I don’t like the indoors much. S’too easy to be cornered.”

34. ARE YOU WAITING FOR THIS INTERVIEW TO BE OVER? “S’at all, officer?”

[rakghoul-legacy]

Swtor Stories Complete

+ 01 Ankhin Kallig (Light Human Corruption Sith Inquistor)

- 02 Terratin Careda (Light Rattattaki Bodyguard Mercenary)

- 03 Barakasin Barsen (Dark Zabrak Watchman Jedi Sentinel)

- 04 Talis Al'Gul (Dark Human Telekenetics Jedi Sage)

- 05 Gerard Torne (Dark Mirilian Tactics Vanguard)

- 06 Dan Krovos (Dark Sith Pureblood Immortal Sith Juggernaut)

- 07 Sadom Phanu (Dark Togruta Marksmanship Sniper)

- 08 Blood'eyez Kallig (Light Human Medicine Operative)

- 09 Alono Kallig (Light Togruta Sawbones Scoundrel)

- 10 Tano Careda (Lighty Rattattaki Carnage Sith Maurauder)

- 11 Jiniu Krovos (Grey Sith Pureblood Focus Jedi Guardian)

- 12 Matthew Drayen (Light Mirilian Dirty Fighting Gunslinger)

- 13 Android Twenty-One (Light Cyborg Fury Sith Maurauder)

- 14 Friezatan (Dark Zabrak Rage Sith Juggernaut)

- 15 Cellonsan (Dark Cyborg Madness Sith Sorcerer)

- 16 Vegetasir (Semi-Light Cathar Assault Specialist Commando)

- 17 Podrexosin Barsen (Light Zabrak Virulence Jedi Guardian)

- 18 Azepanec Barsen (Light Chiss Virulence Sniper)

- 19 Pzaga Kallig (Light Rattattaki Defense Jedi Guardian)

- 20 Bezav Kallig (Light Rattattaki Inflitration Jedi Shadow)

- 21 Lazusual Kallig (Grey Togruta Combat Medic Commando)

- 22 Boba Krovos (Light Sith Pureblood Advanced Prototype Powertech)

- 23 Jatzife Shan (Dark Twilek Sharpshooting Gunslinger)

- 24 Acosha Kallig (Light Togruta Watchman Jedi Sentinel)

- 25 Trotos Kallig (Light Rattattaki Lightning Sith Sorcerer)

- 26 Mallisston Dead (Dark Zabrak Carnage Sith Maurauder)

- 27 Aubok Dead (Dark Zabrak Seer Jedi Sage)

- 28 Sunsprite Dead (Light Concealment Human Operative)

- 29 Rick Fury Dead (Dark Zabrak Hatred Sith Assassin)

- 30 Rogan Thorn (Light Human Concealment Operative)

- 31 Guacar Dead (Light Chiss Pyrotech)

- 32 Henjor Dead (Light Twilek Ruffian Scoundrel)

- 33 Blovoo Dead (Light Mirilian Plasmatech Vanguard)

- 34 Corha Baade Kallig (Rattattaki Half Force-Sensitive Virulence Sniper)

- 35 Ywijice Shan (Dark Twi'lek Darkness Sith Assassin)

- 36 Android Twenty-Two (Dark Cyborg Vengeance Sith Juggernaut)

- 37 Android Seven (Light Cyborg Darkness Sith Assassin)

- 38 Trunksire (Light Cathar Scrapper Scoundrel)

- 39 Zukyi Kallig (Semi-Light Togruta Balance Jedi Sage - Romances Jessica Vortena who is his Lana)

- 40 Uoxo Dead (Dark Zabrak Kinetic Combat Jedi Shadow)

- 41 Nab Drayen (Light Mirilian Lethality Operative)

- 42 Hitiren (Dark Zabrak Deception Sith Assassin)

- 43 Nappatanic (Semi-Dark Cathar Engineering Sniper)

- 44 Uruc Sum (Light Cathar Immortal Sith Juggernaut) (Is a Were-Cathar)

- 45 Vecdibut MacCrawe (Dark Male Twi'lek Pyrotech) (Is Android Twenty-One's King Piccolo)

- 46 Amin Nhor (Dark Male Cathar Focus Jedi Guardian) (Is Android Twenty-One's Broly)

- 47 Ponoz MacCrawe (Light Male Twi'lek Pyrotech) (Is Android Twenty-One's Piccolo)

- 48 Tidin Nargak (Dark Male Cathar Plasmatech Vanguard) (Is Android Twenty-One's Turles)

- 49 Lord Saksidef (Dark Male Twi'lek Darkness Sith Sorcerer) (Is Android Twenty-One's Lord Slug)

- 50 Phuna Nhor (Dark Male Cathar Virulence Jedi Guardian) (Is Android Twenty-One's Paragus)

- 51 Vayas Careda (Dark Male Rattattaki Madness Sith Sorcerer)

- 52 Abodam Kallig (Light Female Togruta Kinetic Combat Jedi Shadow)