#jetiise

[djarin-for-hire]

How do you train a Jedi child not to disturb you when you're napping

[areax]

OC of ur choice bc I’m not familiar w them yet… 🍁!!!

OC EMOJI ASKS!

🍁 MAPLE LEAF - what is their favorite season? why?

for my sw girl zella...

Zella’s favorite season is winter because it reminds her of her home planet. She likes when it’s more cold than warm and was probably one of the few members of the rebellion to genuinely enjoy being on Hoth. It helps that she doesn’t get cold easily and if you cuddle with her, she’s basically a space heater.

[locktobre]

♪ !!!

I forgot how harrowing it is for me to talk about music so I cheated and didn't use shuffle bc everything that came up I was too embarrassed to admit is on my playlist LMAO

anyway

"Slip Away" by Perfume Genius

[werebutch]

raspberry charcoal lemon

HI THIE<3 we can defeat god together it’s in the bag

[amortize]

quiet, peaceful mornings 🥰

[iron-strangers]

of breakfast and sweet lullabies

Summary: Din Djarin is not an early bird. But there's one way to convince him to be one.

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Tags: Established Relationship, Mand’alor Din Djarin, Morning Sex, Kitchen Sex, Unprotected p-in-v, Creampie. I mean they are married and she's pregnant already

CW: Pregnancy, No use of Y/N, NSFW MINORS DNI

Length: 1.5k

A/N: This fic is a part of an ongoing series, posted on AO3.

Read this on AO3 : of breakfast and sweet lullabies

Prequel to Aliit

Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

-

As the soft light of dawn filters through the curtains, Din stirs awake from his slumber, the warmth of his bed reluctant to release him. Stretching languidly, he blinks away the remnants of sleep with dismay, frowning when his stretched arm doesn't find the warm body of his riduur. His senses gradually awakened to the familiar sounds of home. A gentle melody wafts through the air, drawing Din from the comfort of his bed. Curiosity wins, he rises from the bed and follows the melodic trail, where his feet lead him toward the heart of his home.

There, standing by the stove, is his beloved riduur.

Your silhouette is illuminated by the soft glow of the morning light. With a gentle sway, you hum a lullaby, your voice a soothing serenade that wraps around Din like an embrace. One hand effortlessly flips eggs with practiced ease while your left hand is raised, manipulating the force, levitating plates and glasses from the cabinets. The tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed caf and breakfast fills the air, mingling with the sweet notes of your song, Din is still watching in awe as you move with grace and tenderness around the kitchen.

“Kandosii sa kyr'am ast, troan teroch jetiise a'den,” you sing softly, caressing your growing bump, singing an old Mandalorian war chant to your baby instead of core-world lullabies. Unable to resist, Din quietly approaches you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting hiazs chin on your shoulder. You lean back to his bare chest, clearly expecting the embrace, soaking in his warmth. Can't sneak up on a jetii , Din thinks, scratching your shoulder with his stubbles.

“Duraan vi at ara'nov, vode an, kar’ta tor,” Din joins in, both of you singing the last two lines of the chant. You look back at him, your face breaking into a radiant smile before burying your nose into his curls, pressing a sweet kiss to his temple. 

“Morning, mesh’la,” Din smiles, kissing your shoulder, tightening his hug and pulling your body closer to his. “Hey there, ad’ika," Din coos, his voice filled with adoration as he greets his baby. "Are you having a dance party in there? Keeping your momma awake, huh?"

You chuckle, absently tracing circles on Din’s hand. "You know," you tease, "every time you talk to the baby, they kick like crazy. I swear, it's like they’re trying to tell you to pipe down."

Din grins, his gaze softening as he looks at his wife. "But how can I resist talking to our ad'ika?" he replies, his voice laced with affection. 

You roll your eyes playfully, but your heart swells with love at Din’s words. "I know, I know," you huff, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Din can’t resist the urge to put his hands over your belly once more, whispering sweet nothings to his verd’ika. And true to form, the baby responds with a flurry of kicks and movements, eliciting a groan of mock annoyance from you.

"Oh, see what you have done?" you complain but your tone is teasing as you nudge Din with your elbow. "Now they're all riled up."

Din grins unabashedly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I can't help it," he laughs, "I just love them so much already."

Grinning, you lean your head on his shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Din's jaws. Your bodies sway together from side to side as you finish up making breakfast, setting everything on the dining table with the force. Din smiles against your temple when he feels another kick on his hand. His hands sneak underneath your robes, smirking against your neck when he feels skin and nothing else underneath. He roams your body, massaging your aching breast and trailing his hand down, stopping on your belly, caressing the stretched skin as he nips his marks on your neck. 

You feel him grinding against your thighs and you gasp, feeling the heat of arousal pooling in your center. Whimpering, you grind against his thickening length. You reach back, running your hand over the outline of his cock through the fabric, slipping your hand down the waistband of his pants, teasing and squeezing him with your fingers, smearing his precum all over the tip. Din groans, catching your hand and slips it out, ignoring your disappointed whine to pull his pants down. His cock slaps against his belly, hard and already wet from his precum. He takes your robes off your back, throwing the thin silk down the floor and he bends you towards the counter, still ever so careful with your growing bump.

“Mesh’la,” Din praises, parting your folds with two big fingers. He scoops some of your slick around and spreads his fingers all over your clit. You let out a low protest as his fingers leave you, stroking himself slowly with your arousal before nestling the red, flared tip of his cock between your folds, gathering up the creamy mess.

“Gonna let me fuck you like this, sweet girl?” He grunts low in your ear, giving your clit a well-deserved attention with his swollen, leaking head gliding through you.

“Yes, please- Oh, Din!”

He watches you desperately moan for him, whining needily as he buries all of himself into you in one deep thrust, pushing himself in easily with the slick that’s been pooling from all his teasing. Your cheek squished against the cold tile of your kitchen counter, looking back to meet Din’s eyes as he holds your hips in place and fucks into you. 

“You do, yeah, mesh’la? Always so desperate to take my dick." Din murmurs his praises, hissing when he feels your pussy fluttering around him, struggling to take his girth. He swears when he hears the sloppy squelching sounds of him pounding into your tight heat. He keeps on hitting the spot inside of you that makes you see stars, over and over again. “That’s a good girl, my perfect little riduur. Let me hear you, cyar’ika.”

“Fuck- Din, fuck my pussy so good, daddy-”

Manda. Din knows you know what that word did to him-

Din drapes himself across your back, pressing you down to the counter. He sneaks one hand down, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit, completely fucking the ability to form any thoughts out from your brain. He’s basking himself with your filthy moans and screams that come from the sharp, long snap of his hips, going as deep as your pussy will allow him. Din feels the sweet clench of your pussy around the base of his cock, familiar with all the signs that his riduur is going to cum hard.

“Want me to fill you up, rid'ika? Want to feel it dripping out of you?” Din asks in a low, rough grunt and you respond with a flurry of desperate nods.

“Yes, fill me up, please, cyare, want your cum inside me!”

“I know, momma, just let it all out. Take what you need, sweet girl. I’ve got you, cum on my cock.”

You seize in his hold as he continues to roll his hips against yours, feeling boneless from the pleasure that hums through every nerve. You cum with an arch of your back followed by a cry of Din’s name and he groans at the flutter of your walls around him, gripping him so tight in your warmth. He can barely get out a handful of thrusts before he's spilling deep inside of you.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” Din groans in your ear, murmuring sweet praises and sucking his bite marks all over your neck and your shoulder, holding your shivering body up by your hips. “Too rough?”

You shake your head from the counter, too comfortable to even lift it from the cool tile. “So fucking good,” you hum pleasantly, holding your hand up and a towel flies across the room to your waiting palm. Din slowly eases himself out of you and you moan, feeling his load drip out of you. Din groans, scooping his leaking spend from your thighs with his finger and plugging it all back into your fucked out cunt. He plants a deep lingering kiss on your lips and he takes the towel from your hand, wetting it and wiping the shared mess between you two, careful when you start to hiss from over-stimulation.

“Hey, love? Can you help your gooey puddle of a wife up to the chair?” You ask, flashing him your best attempt at puppy eyes. Din smirks, pulling his pants back up before helping you back into your discarded robe, lifting you to the breakfast stool.

“Take a breather, cyar’ika, I’ll go get Grogu,” Din kisses the top of your head and flicks your nose before he goes to wake the child up, smiling to himself when he watches your nose wrinkle. You playfully shoo him as you tie your robes up, huffing about having to disinfect the kitchen after breakfast. 

If every morning started out like this, Din will never complains again for the rest of his life.

-

Song used in this fic: Ka’rta tor by Jesse Harlin

Ka'rta Tor (Heart of Justice)

Mando'a

Kandosii sa kyr'am ast,

Troan teroch jetiise a'den,

Duraan vi at ara'nov.

Vode an, ka'rta tor.

Translation

As ruthless as Death itself,

The pitiless face of The Jedi's wrath,

Let us look down on all who are before us.

Brothers all, one heart of justice.

[cc1010fox]

Fox: I hate jetiise...

Cody, staring at Vos who is holding Fox's hand: ...Really?

Fox: Look, he grew on me, ok?

Cody: Aw--

Fox: Like fungus on a corpse.

Cody: ...

Vos: It's because he's dead inside.

Fox: He gets me~.

[merlyn-bane]

For the foelu snippets I'd like Cody and or Rex with precious toddler.

I decided to go with just Rex, hope that's okay! He's just so very dad shaped and I was sad not to have had a good place to put in some real good one-on-one time with him and the baby in the main story 😊😊

[Requests for Foelu missing scenes, future snippets, and extra vignettes are STILL OPEN. Please submit any requests you might have to my ask box. They will all eventually be cross posted on AO3 as well 🥰🥰]

~~~

“No! Bubu!”

“We're still going to go see the biffleflies, Tal'ika, you've just got to let me carry you there.”

“No! Down, Bubu!” the toddler demands, kicking her little feet in a vain but less than pleasant attempt to free herself. “Wanna walk!” 

Rex sighs and stares dead ahead as his daughter continues flailing and scowling at him severely. “Kai-Tal,” he says patiently, “if you walk now, you'll be too tired to run around in the flowers.”

“No I won’!” Her complaints are starting to rise in pitch, now, and Rex sighs again as he resigns himself to having to decide whether he wants to deal with this the ‘Jedi way'—pausing this entire enterprise to discuss what she's feeling, why, and how to address it, which is a model all of her buir'e are still trying to figure out—or 17's way—giving her what she wants and letting her experience the consequences. Typically Rex prefers the former, even if he's still practicing at it. Today, though, his gut is insisting on practical application. 

So he lets her down. She takes off at speed for the lifts immediately, of course, but Rex just lets her and follows along behind her at his regular pace; the odds of her managing to actually leave him behind are low, and even if she does, they are in the Temple which is the safest place in the galaxy for her to be. At worst, Obi-Wan will have to retrieve her from Master Yoda’s tonight after an impromptu tea-and-swamp-pie party. 

That's where Luke usually seems to end up when the twins are in-Temple for classes, at any rate. 

Kai-Tal lets him pick her up under the armpits once they get into the lift just long enough to be able to press the right button and then starts squirming again, so Rex sets her back down and fondly watches her all but vibrate in place waiting for the doors to open back up. Apparently the urge to go go go as one becomes progressively more mobile is endemic to all younglings, even jetiise.

Obi-Wan insists this was not the case with him. The créchemasters have informed Waxer and Boil that they in fact seriously considered leashing him when he first came into their care at three standard and immediately attempted to stage a breakout. 

The lift lets them out into what the jetiise insist is not a dimensional pocket despite being a sprawling outside space that is contained inside one of the Temple’s obscenely large number of sub-basements, and the toddler immediately takes off at a wobbly run in the direction of the field where her favorite biffleflies can usually be found. Rex is pretty sure she'll run out of steam before she even makes it past the stables; she usually does, and then she'll insist that he stops at each occupied stall so that she can say ‘hi’ and pet them on the nose. 

She might not be the most animal-inclined child in her generation of Jedi, but that's mostly because she's age-mates with Ezra Bridger, and even then it's pretty close. Not that any of them are surprised; they've all seen Obi-Wan befriend everything from a womp rat to a rancor, once.

Sure enough, Kai-Tal starts dragging her feet right on schedule (if a little longer than last time), and she starts tugging at Rex's pant leg before he can even push the stable door open. “Bubu, ‘m tired,” she mumbles, pouting up at him, and Rex is glad that these little excursions are just the two of them because it means there's no-one there to see him fold like wet flimsi. 

“Alright, ad'ika,” he sighs, stooping down to scoop her up and settle her on his hip. “I thought you said you weren't gonna get tired if I let you walk, huh?”

Kai-Tal buries her face in the side of his neck, little hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. “Don’ be mean, Bubu.”

Rex chuckles and cranes his neck to kiss the side of her head. “You've got a funny definition of ‘mean’, kiddo.”

The toddler just shrugs and snuffles into him further. “Go see bif-biffa-biffafies now?”

“Yeah, Tal'ika, we're gonna go see the biffleflies now.”

[outshinethestars]

Dar’adat’ika (Star Wars fic)

“You are not a person, and you have no name,” Prime tells them.

“Yes, sir,” the clones say.  And they try their best to sound like they aren’t people, and they bury their names deep, because they all want desperately to give Prime what he wants, to be what Prime wants, and they are all better at hiding what they want from their face than he is, so it’s obvious to them how desperately Prime wants what he says to be true.   They pretend because they want Prime to be pleased with them, and because they need Prime to be pleased with them, but they also pretend because those words almost always come with a “but” afterwards.

“But,” Prime says, “If you can learn this, it will make you a better soldier.”

“But,” Prime says, “If you know this the Jetiise will be more pleased with you.”

“But,” Prime says, “This will keep you alive.”

“Do you think Prime’s right?” CC-6454 asks.

“Prime is usually right, unfortunately,”  Cody says.

“I mean about us, that we’re not people,” CC-6454 says.

“Of course not,” Cody says, “We would know if we weren’t people.”

“That sounds like something someone cleverly programmed to think they’re a person would say,” Fox says, mostly to be contrary.

“That’s not how being a person works!” Cody says, “It doesn’t matter if we’re people because we’re exact copies of Prime, or if we’re people because the longnecks reengineered our brains to think like people.  We think like people and we feel like people and we act like people, so we are people.”

“But what about souls?” Bly asks.

“Oh please,” Fox says, “ No sentients have souls.”

“Ures runi sa balyc ures Manda,” Cody says, “Ures Manda sa balyc ures Mando’ade.  Mando’ade runi be Manda an, Manda be Mando’ade an.”*

“The gods are dead,” Fox says, “And we have enough problems without chasing shadows.”**

This is what Tyranus told Jango Fett:

He told him that they would make a trap for the Jedi.

He told him that it would be a clever trap, a perfect trap.

He told him that he, Jango Fett, would be the foundation of that trap, the template.

He told him that he would commission an army of clones, not exact copies, not quite, not underneath the surface.

They would look like people, and they would act like people, but they would not be people.

They would be so perfect that even the Jedi would be fooled into thinking they were people.

But when the time came they would show their true nature.

They would do as they were programmed to do, with no free will, no souls, a perfect weapon.

They would kill the Jedi.

This was the contract that Jango agreed to, this was the job that Jango signed up for.

At first it was easy to believe.

Boba was given to him, an ordinary baby, crying and then learning to laugh.  The clones when they were decanted were nothing like him, already silent and obedient, already walking in straight rows of lines, already programmed with the basic knowledge that real children had to stumble towards in preschool.

But over time it got harder.

The clones did not always do as they were told.

The clones did not always act like droids.

Sometimes they were competitive.

Sometimes they were curious.

Sometimes they were afraid.

Jango told himself that of course they were learning to look and act as though they were sentient, they were made to fool even the Jedi.

Jango believed what Tyranus told him, he had to believe what Tyranus told him.

Because if he did not, then the clones were his children and he was dar’manda.

Because if he did not, then the clones were slaves and he was depur.

Jango is in Nala Se’s office when a clone enters uninvited.

The clone’s hair is blond like Arla’s was.

Nala Se stares down at the clone disapprovingly, but she does not immediately order its decommissioning.  The Kaminiise like to gather data.

The clone holds a data pad and stands at perfect attention.

“Sir,” the clone says, “I’d like to make a report in regards to Trainer Wyvern in charge of classes 232, 281, and 332.”

Wyvern isn’t Mando’ad, wasn’t one of the trainers Jango had handpicked himself. Jango wonders what he could possibly have done that the clone thinks it’s necessary to report him.  The clone must know this is against regulation, despite its rigid posture and unmoving expression, it is trembling.

“Given the tight surveillance used in this facility, I am sure that you are aware of the activities Trainer Wyvern has engaged in during training.  My understanding is that you have judged that his actions cause no significant or lasting physical damage and are therefore not harmful to the product,” The clone takes a long breath, his face still impassive, but his eyes wide with terror, “However, it has occurred to me that as Kaminoans do not engage in sexual activity for reproduction or pleasure, you may be unaware of their true significance.”

It takes half a beat for Jango to realize what the clone is saying.

His blood feels as though it is burning.

The clone is so small.

He is so small.

When Jango was that age his first buire still lived.

“Sexual activity in underage humanoids can cause long term psychological damage, and even impact physical growth and development.” The clone continues, “I’ve collected all my research on this data pad, sir.”

The clone hands Nala Se the data pad, salutes, and marches out of the office.

Nala Se skims through the data pad.

“This is remarkably well put together,” she says, “The clone will have to be culled, of course.”  She sounds almost sorry about it.

“Why?” Jango finds himself saying.

Nala Se looks down on him judgmentally.

“His actions are aberrant and not in line with his orders.”

“He showed good initiative,” Jango says, “That’s important in a soldier.”

“For commanders, maybe,” Nala Se says, sounding skeptical of even that much, “But not in a common trooper.”

“Not necessarily, there’s also elite troops, special ops.  Good armies are made up of soldiers who know how to do as their told, but great armies are made up of soldiers who know how to think for themselves when the situation requires it.”

It’s, Jango’s making his words up as he says them.  This isn’t the Haat’ad, the clones aren’t meant to be a great army, just good enough to get the job done.  But Jango can’t, he won’t let the clone die for this.

CT-7567 feels disconnected from his body.  He knows he’s not properly alive right now, existing within borrowed time.  It was disrespectful, maybe, to walk out on Nala Se, but it’s not as though that matters at this point.  He’s standing in the hall outside her door.  He couldn’t bear to stand in her office a moment longer than he had to.  He can’t bear to go back to his barracks and be called back.

He can’t believe he did that.

He’s so glad he did that.

The door opens, but it’s Prime who exits.

Prime stares at him, like he’s a puzzle he can make sense of.  CT-7567 stares back like he doesn’t exist in his body.

CT-7567 is very good at making himself look as though he doesn’t exist.

“You are not a person.  You don’t have a name,” Prime says.

“Yes, sir,” CT-7567 says, rote, automatic.  He’s right on both counts, as far as CT-7567 can tell.

“But,” Prime says, and if he were ‘64 CT-7567 would say he looks nervous, and if he were ‘75 CT-7567 would say he looks trapped, but it’s Prime so he can’t be either, “If you were a person… regardless of if you’re a person or not, that was the bravest damn thing I’ve ever seen.  And you might not be a person, but I am, so.”

Prime takes out a flimsy of all things, and draws on it.

“These are jaig eyes,” Prime says, as if CT-7567 doesn’t know , as if all the clones, even twice defective CTs, don’t grasp onto Mandalorian culture with all they’re worth, as something that is not quite but almost theirs .

“You’ve a right to them.”  Prime says,  “Paint them on your armor when you’re deployed.”

“Sir,” CT-7567 says, like his voice is coming from someone else, eyes still fixed on the flimsy, “Nala Se’s going to have me decommissioned.  I’m not making it to deployment.”

“I talked to her,” Prime says, “You’re not getting decommissioned.”

CT-7567 feels… buoyant, hysterical.

Why didn’t you lead with that? He doesn’t say, but only barely.

“Thank you, sir,” he says.  And he managed to keep his composure when he walked into Nala Se’s office without permission, and he kept his composure when he talked about what Trainer Wyvern did to them, and he didn’t even fall apart afterwards, but now, now his voice trembles, wobbles all over the place.

Prime just nods, deeply, undeniably awkward.

And then CT-7567 is alone, breathing deep and uneven in the too white, too bright hallway.

He’s going to live.

CT-7567 is going to live.

He’ll make it all the way to deployment, and someday he’s going to paint jaig eyes on his armor where anyone can see them.

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three - Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen: The Apostate

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers and a heavy role to bear. Now reunited their journeys across the galaxy are just beginning to complete their final mission.

Word Count: 5.5K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: some wholesome moments, light violence, semi-angst, slight ptsd

------

A covert hidden in the shadows now out in the light though still hidden on a planet. The waters before the cave lap at the shore as a boy stands in the waters other Mandalorians surround him as their leader steps forward a helmet resting in her hands.

“I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors…” She starts and the boy recites, “I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors…”

“That I shall walk the Way of the Mand’alor…” 

“That I shall walk the Way of the Mand’alor…”

The clans look over the signets glimmer in the sunlight, banners of the smaller clans representing the covert.

“And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.

“And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”

The Armorer looks down at the boy who stands in the water as he recites the creed, “This is the Way.” She says

“This is the Way.” The boy responds and the whole covert repeats those words. The Armorer raises the helmet placing it on the boy’s head as it covers his face.

“From this moment on, I shall never remove my helmet.” She says and the boy nods, “From this moment on, I shall never…”

The words are interrupted by a dinosaur turtle that storms the beach attacking the Mandalorian covert. The water sprays over them all as the adults rush to kill the creature with their weapons, others getting the children back to the caves.

“Go! Go! Go!”

“Young ones, to the cave!”

It swings its arms and head snapping at them causing the water to pull some other as they fight against the creature and protect their own.

“I got you! I got you!”

The creature eats a few Mandalorians their screams filling the air and the others attempt to plant explosives on the monster but are unable to pierce its thick hide. Grappling cables pierce it trying to subdue the creature. But it’s sheer vast and strength as it rolls flinging Mandalorians attached into the air and some pulled underwater. The Armorer rushes forward saving one of their own only to be thrown back by the creature. The boy rushes forward to try to save the Mandalorian on the ground but the creature charges toward him. Paz Vizsla reaches the child pushing him aside, “Get down!” Firing at the creature as it charges toward him.

Two torpedoes strike the creature at its side distracting it as it turns towards the ship heading off to attack the Mandalorians look spotting a starship heading back towards the creature. Another attack comes from an X-Wing firing straight at its face right as the N-1 fires its final torpedoes killing the creature a large explosion of water and guts comes flying down from the air as the creature screeches before collapsing. The Mandalorians watch as the starfighter and the X-wing land beside the creature, as they draw closer to see who their saviors are. The canopies of both open revealing from the N-1 starfighter the exiled Mandalorian with his child and from the X-wing a mix of both Mandalorian and Jedi.

You both exit your respective ships as Din with Grogu leads towards where the Armorer had walked off to. You’ve never seen this many Mandalorian since Nevarro when they first rescued you and Grogu but it seemed like they have only grown more. Din creates a path as they look at the three of you as they pass by. You could feel their gazes follow you as they take in your appearance. Probably for the fact you wear no helmet and the weapons that rest on your hip that have them whispering.

“Bic cuyir a jetiise..Witch…te adiik cuyir nayc Mando…” (It’s a jedi. The child is no Mandalorian) You ignore most of their whispers and insults are mainly thrown at you. Until you catch the gaze of Paz Vizsla his hands holding the large blaster and you feel the heated glare coming from the man. Turning your gaze forward at Din’s back as you enter the cave. You see the forge created just like the one on Nevarro and Glavis Ringworld. She stands with her back towards you both before she speaks up her voice echoing throughout the large room.

“You have removed your helmet. What’s worse, you did so of your own free will. You are no longer Mandalorian.”

Din steps forward placing Grogu down on the ground then looks at the Armorer, “The Creed teaches us of redemption.”

“Redemption is no longer possible since the destruction of our homeworld.” The Armorer retorts.

“But what if the mines of Mandalore still exist?” Din says as he seats himself a the table on the floor with her join. You and the child sit on the sides as Din looks at the female Mandalorian who shakes her head, “All was destroyed in the Purge.”

Din pulls out a piece of green glass inscribed in it Mando’a and places it on the table, “Is this inscription, not Mandalorian?” The Armorer grabs the crystal looking over the fragmented writing,

“Where did you come upon this?” She asks, “Jawas. They came upon it by trade from a traveler who claimed to have visited the surface of Mandalore.” Din explains. During your travels following the Pykes, you had encountered Jawas that had this crystal that spurred Din to look for the covert hidden somewhere in the Outer Rim.

“Then this relic only proves that Mandalore’s entire surface has been crystalized by fusion rays.” The Armorer says returning the crystal back to Din.

“But a traveler was able to retrieve this, so perhaps, it is not poisoned. If I visit the planet and I can bring you proof that I have bathed in the Living Waters beneath the mines of Mandalore, then by Creed, the decree of exile will be lifted and I would be redeemed.” He explains his plan and the Armorer is silent before nodding and accepting his quest,

“This is the Way.”

Din stands and you follow as you pull the child into your arms. He looks at the Armorer giving her a sharp nod, “Then I will see you again.”

Leaving the cave to see some Mandalorians cleaning up others waiting to see what is to happen with their visitors seeing you three exit. Din heads towards the ship taking the child as you trail behind still feeling the gazes of the few Mandalorian. A hand shoots out grabbing your arm and stopping you in your tracks. Your skin crawls from the contact as your hand reaches for your saber. The hand is tight around your bicep and you could tell a bruise was going to form.

“Gar kelir ratiin cuyir eyn aruetii..” (You will always be an outsider) Paz Vizsla leans to growl the insult for only you to hear, his grip on your arm harsh. You are silent as you keep your gaze forward your hand grasps the saber on your belt but doesn’t pull it off your belt, “Partaylir tion'ad gar cuyir olar” (Remember who you are here) He releases your arm with a shove and you stay still your hand shaking just to turn around and beat the crap out of him for touching you. You look down releasing your grasp on the saber seeing your hold on the Darksaber not your own. Steeling your face and moving past the Mandalorians watching the interaction climbing into your X-Wing and starting it up.

R4 gives some concerned beeps as you sigh putting in the coordinates that Din sent you seeing Nevarro show up on your navigator, “All good R4…let’s just get off this planet.”

The N-1 and the X-wing enter the Nervarro airspace as a transmission comes through that you accept, “Welcome to Nevarro, independent trade anchor and Outer Rim Hyperlane port. Please state the purpose of your visit.” A woman’s voice comes through.

“Here to visit a friend.” You respond and you’re granted clearance and given a spot on the tarmac, climbing out as R4 exits its spot. Joined up with Din and Grogu you move towards the city it is even more lively and different from when you first visited since… A droid greets you both as you enter the city gates, “Greetings. Welcome to the port of Nevarro, gem of the Outer Rim. Our esteemed High Magistrate welcomes you and hopes that your stay will be a prosperous one,” You see trade going on, children running through the streets but not in fear but in play in a game of chase, “We invite you to visit our shops and markets, enjoy local delicacies, marvel at the black lava canyons, or soak in the geothermal springs.”

You look around at the streets of Nevarro City and the cleanliness and safety that is a part of it. Droids and different species of people roam the streets and none move away from you and the Mandalorian in fear greeting you as you pass by.

“A lot has changed around here.” You say seeing the people playing music as children dance and play in the large center, before you is a statue of IG-11 in his honor. Without the droid’s sacrifice, none of you would have made it off Nevarro alive.

“Do you remember your old friend?” Din says to Gorgu who looks at the droid in curiosity.

“Mando!” Turning seeing Greef looking great in crimson robes truly shows his status as Magistrate. Walking down steps followed by a protocol droid he greets the Mandalorian with a firm shake and he sees you with a large grin on his face. “I heard you were back, but I didn’t believe it. Ah and Y/n it is good to see you too. You’ve gotten much older since the last time.”

You bow your head slightly in greeting, “It’s good to see you Karga.”

“Magistrate Karga.” Din greets him and the protocol droid steps forward, “That’s High Magistrate Karga to you.” Greef waves the droid offer gesturing towards the large building you assume to be the town hall,

“Come. Let’s catch up on old times.” Entering his office everything looked so modern and just better compared to old Nevarro.

“It’s so good to see you both. Welcome back.” Greef says as you lean against his desk Din standing behind you, the child in Greef’s chair using the force to spin himself around.

“Doesn’t even look like the same place.” Din comments and Greef smiles proud of the hard work put in, “I know, we’ve done a lot with it. The citizens have been so instrumental in making this all work, and look at this. We are an official trade spur of the Hydian Way.”

“Congratulations.” You say and Din nods, “We’ve got a construction boom going on in the city. The belters are mining the asteroid fields at the edge of the system. There’s a lot of money to be made on Nevarro.”

“I can see.” Din says, “I can set you up with a prime tract right over by the hot springs. You, the kid, and the little one, you can settle down, you can hang up your blaster. Live off the fat of the land.” Greef creates the picture-perfect lifestyle.

“Grogu.” Din says and Greef looks at him confused, “Come again?”

“His name is Grogu.” The small infant stops spinning perking up when his name is called and you smile at him making him giggle slightly, “Oh. If you say so. Come, I wanna show you something,” Greef leads you both to the large balcony showing the city landscape pointing off in directions. He points over to a large area far off in the outskirts of the city, somewhere private away from all of this “Now, as I was saying, there’s a beautiful parcel available right down here by the flats.”

Din nods stepping away from the balcony and standing by the desk where Grogu still sits in the large chair, “I appreciate the offer, but I have some matters to look after.”

“Oh, I’m confused,” Greef frowns as the two of you re-enter the room, “I thought you had completed your mission, but you’re still running around here with them.”

“It’s complicated.” You explain leaning against the door frame to the balcony as Greef stands between you two,

“I completed my quest. He returned to me. I removed my helmet, and now I’m an apostate.” Din explains.

“Which is all the more reason for you to stay here with us,” Greef offers to step closer to the man, “Where you are from, you may be an apostate, but here, you’d be landed gentry.”

“Magistrate.” The protocol droid halts your conversation and you all turn to see it waiting by the doorway,

“High Magistrate.” “Yes, High Magistrate. Apologies.”

Greef sighs letting the droid enter, “Your timing couldn’t be any worse.”

“But it’s just that, there’s someone here to see you.” The droid explains and the man waves him off wanting to get back to your conversation, “It can wait.”

“But it’s pirates!” The droid yells and you all look back now more concerned, “Pirates in the courtyard.”

Following behind the two older men and before exiting out to the streets Din helps pull the mask of your cloak to hide your face. Reaching the streets you can hear shouting from what you assume to be the pirates, “Get out of my way or I’ll split your circuits.”

“Oh, my stars.” “Stand aside, droid, don’t you know who we are?” The pirate shouts at the droid blocking the school.

“Come on, Vane. That’ll be enough of that.” Greef calls out as the lead pirate steps forward you and Din trailing behind letting the High Magistrate deal with this.

“Greef Karga, my old friend. I knew you wouldn’t insult us. Come, join us for a drink.” The Nikto holds his hands out a wide grin across his face seeing an old friend.

“Let’s continue this conversation back at my office,” Greef says before pointing to the building, “This, this is a school.”

“Well, that explains why she wouldn’t let me inside.” Vane says as the other pirates laugh before pointing to the school, “I forgot, it was your cut of my boss’s treasure that built this saloon. Pirate King Gorian Shard’s name is familiar to all in this sector.”

“Come, join me for a drink back at my office. We’ll toast to your captain.” Greef repeats he’d rather have rowdy pirates drunk in his office than where children are nearby.

“We drink here,” Vane says and the other pirates make sounds of agreement.

“That is a school now,” Greef says tired of the back and froth.

“I say it’s still a bar. Now, bring us a drink.” His hand rests on his blaster and Din speaks up leaning against the tree beside him.

“Is there a problem here, Magistrate?” He says his arms crossed his chest as he watches the pirates that take in the Mandalorian and also the hooded figure next to him.

“Is there a problem here?” Greef says before looking back at Vane, “What do you think?”

“Not if you serve me a drink.” Vane repeats himself and Greef steps forward. “Not in my school.”

Vane chuckles looking back at his crew, “You hear that, boys? His school. You paid us for murder and mayhem inside these doors. Sounds like you went soft.” He taunts the man as Greef tilts his head his hand pushing back his cloak slightly revealing the blaster on his side, “You think so? Try me.”

Vane pulls out his blaster but before he can use it it’s shot out of his hand and Vane groans in pain from the blaster heat, “Tell Captain Gorian Shard that Nevarro is no longer friendly to pirates. Now get outta here.” Vane glares and the others pull out their blasters, but you and Din shoot them down quickly each backing the High Magistrate as Vane laughs nervously now completely alone and defenseless.

“Get out of here, Vane. Now.” Greef warns him and you watch the pirate quickly flee down the street as you move closer to the man, “Sure you wanna let him go?” You ask watching him disappear around the corner.

“He’ll let it be known that Nevarro is respectable now and not to be trifled with.” Greef says before looking at some service droids, “Have the service droids scrub up out there.”

“Yes, sir, right away.” The droid says as others quickly come in and start cleaning up the mess the four of you moving down the street. Greef sighs looking at Din, “I gotta level with you, Mando. I need a Marshal.”

“What about Marshal Dune?” You ask, since arriving you haven’t seen the woman at all in Nevarro.

“After she brought in Moff Gideon, she was recruited by Special Forces,” Greef says and Din quickly notices the sudden silence that came from you hearing that name. “And what came of Gideon?” Din asks watching you from the corner of your eye as you trail back.

“Ugh. He was sent off to a New Republic War Tribunal,” Greef says producing a scoff from Din, “So… What do you say? You ready to put on the stripes and collect a healthy stipend? You’d make a very fine lawman.” He offers and Din is reluctant of that kind of job.

“Why not request one from the New Republic?” He asks and Greef shakes his head,

“The last thing we intend is to bow down to yet another far-off bureaucracy. No. Under my watch, Nevarro will become the first truly independent trade anchor in this entire sector.” He explains he had worked hard to make this a respectable place not to have it fall under the rule of another damned empire or republic.

Din sighs shaking his head, “I can’t serve as your marshal. I have something pressing to attend to.”

“Apologies. I didn’t know you were here on business,” Greef chuckles before waving his hands around the town square to show off everything there is to offer, “What can we provide?”

“I need him back.” Din says as you look up at the statue of IG11 and Greef laughs, “IG11 was destroyed on the lava river. This is just a statue.”

“These are his parts, are they not?” Din asks and Greef nods, “I mean, what’s left of ’em. We were lucky to recover any of his parts after he self-destructed.”

“I need a droid I can trust to help me explore Mandalore, and he’s that droid.” Din points at the statue that is just remnants.

“Hey, what about R4?” You ask as the droid beside you beeps ready for duty and Din shakes his head. “Don’t trust that droid.” He says and you scoff crossing your arms as R4 gives sad beeps.

“Hey he didn’t mean it…he’s just a picky.” You whisper to the droid trying to cheer him up as it gives a depressing beep accepting your failed attempt to lift its spirits.

“Mando, we’ve got plenty of droids around here, we’ll find you one. I guarantee it.” Greef says and Din shakes his head and points at IG. “Let me give it a shot.”

Returning to Greef’s office in a workshop the remnants of the droid lie across a table as Din tries reviving the droid plugging it into some power while fixing some circuits and boards, “There. He’s hooked up to power. Let’s see if we can wake him up.” Din steps back looking at the droid before turning on the power button on the droid. A low hum fills the room as it powers up a beeping sound showing its turning on. “There you go.”

“Subparagraph sixteen-teen-teen of the Bondsman Guild protocol waiver…” IG’s voice is all distorted as it glitches and stutters, “Immediately produce said…The bounties are mine. Assets to be terminated.” The legless droid lunges at you and the child in your arms and you stumble back as it crawls toward you.

“Terminate assets. Terminate assets.” It repeats as Din shoots at it but it keeps charging at you and the child, “Greef!” You yell before tossing the child over to the man that catches him as IG grabs your leg and you’re pulled to the ground. 

“Terminate asset.” It repeats as its hands try wrapping around your throat but you fight against the strong droid.

“Mando, shoot it! Shoot it!” Greef yells as you keep fighting the droid above you. “Don’t you kriffing shoot me!” You yell.

“Terminate.” Using your full body weight you fling the heavy droid off you it landing before a bust of Greef. Waving your hand as it falls off the pedestal and crushes the droid’s head. Din pulls you to your feet as you look at the destroyed droid,

“Now that’s using your head.” Din says and Greef still holding the child looks at the droid, “I think he defaulted to his old programming.”

“You think?” You say as Din’s plan of finding a droid adds a whole new step.

“That’s too big a job for you to do by yourself. Fortunately, Nevarro has attracted the best droid smiths of the Outer Rim,” Greef explains returning the child to Din with the help of a service droid to carry the parts of IG as the man leads you through the streets of Nevarro, “They’ll have IG back to his old self in no time.”

“Are you sure they’re up for it?” Din asks as you turn down a street, “I don’t think I can handle him with all his limbs if things go scud.”

“Why don’t you ask ’em for yourself?” Greef offers while knocking on a small window about your hip height, “Who?”

“The Anzellans.” Greefs points to the now small window and you see a small creature you assume the Anzellans as he looks at you four,

“What do you want?”

The three of you sat in a very small room, barely fighting all three of you, Greef opting to stay outside though hunched over listening. Grogu watches the creatures even smaller than him work on the droid as they speak louder in their language before cursing as the main one turns to Din.

“No. Can’t fix. No. No, no. The broken.” It says and you two look confused at it. “Uh… Okay.” Din says as it speaks Anzellan as he waves his hands pointing at the droid before back at the two of you see you didn’t understand.

“The broken. It broke.” He repeats and Din shakes his head, “I don’t understand. Do you speak Huttese?”

“Mando, he said he can’t fix it,” Greef calls from the doorway translating from his distance spot and Din shakes his head pointing at IG, “That’s no good, I need this one. This one is my friend.”

“It not friend anymore. Memory circuit broken.” He says spitting on the droid in shame as Din sighs, “He says the memory circuit is shot.” Greef calls out and the two of you look at the man understanding what the Anzellan was saying but he continues to translate.

“No more.” The small droidsmith says, “Well, put in a new one.” Din says and he shakes his head,

“No, no, no, no. Not work. Don’t make new one. Very hard to find.” One of them says and the other shakes his head, “No.”

“He said they don’t make ’em anymore. They’re very hard to find.” Greef calls out and you both look at the man,

“We got it,” Din calls out.

“Buy new droid. This one poodoo.” The Anzellan says, “He says you should get a new one.” The two of you ignore Greef’s not needed translation.

“Can you fix it without the memory circuit?” Din asks and the droidsmith thinks before nodding, “Yes, but IG no think.”

“What if I find you the part?” Din offers and the creature nods, “Okay, now. Then no problem. We fix.”

“If you can get a new part, he says he can fix it.” Greef says and you turn to the man, “We understand him pretty well Greef,”

“No! No! No! No! No! No, down, down!” You whip your head seeing Grogu holding one of the Anzellan hugging it as the other tries freeing him,

“No, Grogu. He’s not a pet.” Din says reaching over and trying to free the droidsmith,

“No squeezie. Not squeeze. Not squeeze. Bad baby!” The trapped Anzellan yells before getting free and looking at the child, “Oh, he’s a bad baby.”

“Sorry about that. He’s young.” Din apologizes as droidsmith looks at the child, “Yeah, bad baby. Oh!” He screams but again as Grogu tries reaching over to grab him. You and Din struggle in the compact space to get Gorgu away from him.

“No, Grogu.” “Come kid!”

Returning to the port reaching your ships as R4 gets settled into the droid port as you head over to Din who stands beside Greef,

“We hope to see you soon.” Greef says as he shakes hands with Din and you nod goodbye, “Keep IG-11 safe until I get back with that part.” Din says.

“If the Anzellans can’t find it, I don’t know who can. Safe travels.” Greef says stepping back as you both board your ships starting them up and quickly exiting the atmosphere.

“Being a Mandalorian’s not just learning about how to fight, you also have to know how to navigate the galaxy, because you never know where you might be headed next,” You hear Din speaking to Grogu teaching him about the ship as you follow beside him listen at the softness of his voice, “This here is your hyperspace map. You determine your range by looking at your fuel gauge. And this…”

A beep fills both your and Din’s ships and you see your enemy proximity warning indicator going off, “…is your enemy proximity warning indicator.” He says as you see the starfighters appear. “Hang on, kid, we got pirates.”

“Avast, Mandalorian. You can’t just sneak away after cuttin’ down four of my brothers in cold blood,” You hear Vane’s voice through your comms, “We’re Pirate King Gorian Shard’s men, now you’ll answer to him.”

“Gorian Shard should stick to hijacking and ransoming,” Din says before quickly banking left while you go right the starships splitting up following after you both.

“After them!” Your fast maneuvers through the asteroid field as you have four starships after you firing at you. Quickly accelerating through two asteroids that are colliding barely making it through hearing one of the ships explode behind you.

“All good R4?” You yell spinning the ship around and firing at one of the ships hitting an engine before dodging the other two ships as they are on your tail. You dodge and weave space rock and blaster fire and you see Din heading towards you as you flip your ship flying right above him upside down you hear R4 squeal as Din takes down the two following you as you fire at his three only taking down two as the last one avoids the fire. Spinning the ship around as you chase after the last one Din following right behind you. The ship you assume with Vane in it speeds around a large asteroid the two of you quickly following behind revealing a large warship. You let Vane head towards the safety of the ship as you see their weapons appear aiming at you both.

“Dank farrik.” Din sighs and you curse seeing the target lock, “They have a kriffing target lock on us.”

“Stop where you are. You’re outgunned.” You hear what you assume is Gorian Shard through your comms, “I have no quarrel with you, Gorian Shard.” Din answers and you hear a laugh through the transmission,

“What a kind sentiment from a man who just destroyed eight of my fighters. Surrender your ships and I will spare your lives.” Shard says and you sigh looking at your fifth turbo engine locked and loaded.

“You trust me Din?” You ask as you lock in your coordinates with Din letting R4 take control of the ship. “Yeah, kid?” He asks confused as you crack your knuckles.

“Hey Grogu, never trust a pirate.” You say before thrusting your hand out and Din watches the warship spin as you used a large amount of the Force, “Hit it R4!” You yell, as they fire at the two of you but Din quickly flips the red button jolting forward beside you before you both jump to lightspeed leaving behind a furious pirate king.

Reaching the Mandalore system and exiting hyperspace as you follow Din toward a planet seeing on your navigation that it’s Kalevala.

“This is Kalevala,” Din says through your comms as you begin your descent into the atmosphere, “It’s another planet in the Mandalorian system.” You look over the lush fields and rocky mountains and right along the seaside, you see a castle.

“Is that?” You ask, “Yeah, that is a Mandalorian castle.” Din says as you depart to land on the platform the rain creates a rhythmic beat on the canopy as it opens climbing it and throwing your hood over your head to avoid getting completely wet as the four of you venture into the castle. Reaching the entrance of the imposing castle you remove your hood and are greeted by a blue footman droid who speaks to you, “Din Djarin, Mand’alor Y/n Kenobi-Kryze.” The droid bows its head slightly at your presence and you shoot Din a look at the title you were given. You hated the title given because of the weapon on your hip, was this how people were to address you? Following the droid down a long hall as the rain poured violently outside the castle, banners of a house crest..your house crest, and the Night Owl as well. At the end of the long hall was a throne and sat was Bo-Katan the droid stands by her side as she looks over at your four.

“Bo-Katan. It is Din Djarin and your grand-niece Y/n Kenobi-Kryze.” The droid announces your presence as she looks over at you two. She looked tired as her head rests in her hand.

“I am here to join you.” Din says and Bo-Katan shakes her head sadness in her eyes, “There’s nothing left to join.”

“What of your plans to retake Mandalore?” You ask and she looks down at her feet before reaching your gaze a forlorn expression on her face. “When I returned without the Darksaber, my forces melted away.” She says.

“Where is the stolen fleet?” Din asks and Bo-Katan waves her hand as if they were leaving, “Making their way through the galaxy as mercenaries.” She says before sitting up having lounged on the wide throne.

“Do you still have the saber?” She asks already knowing the answer to that question and you nod, “I do.”

“Then you lead them. Wave that thing around and they’ll do whatever you say.” She points at the weapon at your belt and you frown. You didn’t want this either you didn’t want to rule.

“So you’re giving up your designs to retake Mandalore?” You ask, it had been her goal to rebuild the home she had lost. She had already lost so much in her life, her home planet, her sister, her nephew, and she had almost lost you. If keeping Mandalore inhabited was the only way to keep the last remnants of her family safe then so be it.

“Your cult gave up on Mandalore long before the Purge. Where were you then? The Children of the Watch and all the factions that came before fractured and shattered our people. Go home. There’s nothing left.” Bo-Katan says her venom-laced words aimed at Din.

“I am going to Mandalore so that I may bathe in the Living Waters and be forgiven for my transgressions.” Din states and the princess laughs shaking her head thinking him to be crazy.

“You are a fool. There’s nothing magic about the mines of Mandalore. They supplied beskar ore to our ancestors and the rest is superstition. That planet has been ravaged, plundered, and poisoned.” She explains.

“You said that the curse was a lie. Make up your mind.” Din retorts and Bo-Katan leans forward staring at the Mandalorian, “If you want to go to the mines, be my guest. They’re beneath the civic center in the city of Sundari.” She leans back on her throne. She had really given up on her promise of restoring Mandalore,

“Bo-Katan…” You whisper but Din speaks up. “Thank you. And I will find out if the planet is really poisoned.” He says before he takes your hand and starts leading you out of the great hall you glance back at your grand-aunt as she rests on the throne watching. Your plan of traveling to Mandalore would only be a journey for you three to discover. To determine whether that planet really was cursed or was legend keeping the chance of rebirth at bay.

“Goodbye, Din Djarin.”

[yukipri]

The Prime Override - Chapter 57 is up!

Jango - Return to Tipoca City

Sorry for the delay on this one!

This chapter: Generation I returns to Tipoca City, and Jango prepares to go to the Afterlife.

All of the deployed troops have now been recalled to Tipoca City. But despite the rapid return of troops to the city, it still doesn’t feel like it had before. The number of men coming back are blatantly, painfully fewer than the numbers that had gone out. Jango’s heart sinks as he processes all the final reports coming in. Less than twenty thousand survivors. The Republic was supposed to be picking its battles, choosing smaller scale conflicts that it could win and rationing its troops, with Muunilinst being the sole large-scale exception. And yet they’d managed to decimate over ninety percent of the Generation 1 clones in a mere three months. Decimate, ha. Massacre, Jango thinks, is far more accurate. But what about the jetiise leading his people to massacre is new.

> > Read Ch 57 on AO3

And a bonus image for my endnotes:

[werebutch]

happy birthday!!!

THANK U THIE ILY

[ivyjayskywalker]

Pretty please, something for Sweet Dreams Aren’t made of this (Jangobi) ? Man I love that one.

Sure thing!

(Taken from Chapter 6!)

Jango watches the ship carrying the Jetiise leave in a sullen silence. He stares up long after it’s already disappeared from the sky, Myles standing stoically at his side. Thankfully, his friend is keeping his mouth shut for once. He’s not sure he could take another lecture right now.

He should feel relieved at seeing them gone, departing from his system and going back to their damn Republic, but instead, all he feels is cold. Like the further the ship gets, the more chilled he becomes, unable to suppress a shiver despite the moderate temperature outside tonight.

He knows what it is. He’s heard all about the symptoms. This is what soulmate rejection feels like, and it’s how Obi-Wan has felt for the last few years. Because of him.

He successfully drove off his soulmate, blaming him for something he wasn’t even a part of. Now, he has no one to blame but himself for the fact he may never see the other half of his soul again.

A warm hand rests on his shoulder, pulling him from his spiral of self-loathing.

“He’ll come around, vod. Just give it some time.”

He turns to face Myles, surprised by the confidence both in his words and the steel expression on his face.

“How can you be so sure?”

“You’re soulmates,” he answers with a shrug, glancing up at the empty sky before adding, “And whenever you weren’t looking at him, he was always looking right at you.”

[lbibliophile-sw]

To Catch a Falling Star

Also on AO3 [570 words] For @waxerboilmonth - week 2: Care and keeping of your Jedi 101

Inspired by And I’ll Catch You When You Fall by Nation_Ustria The war leads almost every single Jedi to unintentionally Fall at one point or another, losing parts of themselves that are kind and good. Except the vod’e noticed and decided that they weren’t going to let it happen, finding ways to pull their Jetiise back into the Light. Turns out, you can’t really Fall if you have people to Catch you.

---

When General Kenobi walks out of his meeting with the Admiralty, Waxer and Boil can see immediately why Cody called for a pre-Catching. More importantly, they can see why Cody called for them and not some of the shinier troopers.

The General is angry. Not at first glance, perhaps, his forcefully-placid expression is still in place despite wearing thin. But to those who know him well, it is clear in the tension in his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes, the rigidity of his spine despite his exhaustion. To those who know him well, it is easy to recognise the impotent anger that comes from trying to argue with a superior who only wants to hear ‘yes sir’.

They note all of this and they do not get out of his way as any sane person would, faced with such suppressed emotion. Instead they fall into step either side, walking close enough to brush shoulders when he lists. Close enough to feel his radiating chill.

Because that’s the other problem. He is right to feel angry – they’re angry too, that politics means their long-awaited leave has been cancelled in favour of yet another combat mission – but anger in a Jedi is dangerous. Make a Jedi furious, make them desperate, and they will pull off miracles. But they lose part themselves in exchange for that power, and even when Caught, not all returns.

And so, just as the Vode have learnt to Catch their Jedi, they are learning how to help stave off a Fall in the first place.

Waxer takes point on distraction duty, gradually drawing the General away from his dark thoughts and into conversation, sharing the latest gossip and light-hearted stories of various shenanigans. Boil listens, interjecting as needed, but otherwise is busy sending messages and coordinating their second salvo. Together they herd their General away from his office and towards the rec-room, refusing to let him return to his never-ending flimsiwork that is nevertheless as up-to-date as needed until the details of their new mission come through.

When they arrive, a dozen Ghost members are ready and waiting, summoned by Boil’s comm. Spare mattresses have been laid out in a corner of the room, liberally strewn with scavenged blankets and cushions. Snacks and drinks have been gathered, and Crys and Wooley are arguing over which holo to play on the projector.

The General balks in the doorway, out of respect for their privacy or reluctance to be soothed, but Waxer and Boil are prepared. Barely missing a step, they continue to herd him forwards, guiding him down into the middle of the mats where all three of them are quickly swarmed with warm bodies, excited chattering filling the air.

Waxer and Boil exchange a look over their General’s head. They note how his shoulders have relaxed, sinking back into Longshot volunteering as a backrest. They note how he smiles, no longer perfectly polite or bitingly sarcastic, but gently amused. They note with relief how the chill aura no longer hovers around him, replaced instead with simple exhaustion. He is out of the danger zone for now.

Settling in more comfortably – and not-so-coincidentally pinning their stubborn General firmly in place – they let their worries for the future be set aside. They might not be getting their leave, but they can at least make the most of their downtime during transit. And ensure that their General does the same.

[cc1010fox]

[ Cont. from here. ]

Behind him, the other clones were steadily relaxing in Plo's presence, a stark contrast to their commander, who remained professional and guarded. Behind the visor of his helmet, Fox wore his suspicion openly. The Coruscanti population was annoyed by the clone presence at best and saw them as meat droids they could just get rid of at worst, so the Guard tended to be...well, on guard around natborns. Fox especially. He received every report about every cruelty that his vode were subjected to, while his vode tended to only be aware of their own treatment and the treatment of those close to them. On top of that, when higher status individuals had an issue with a clone, they took their grievances straight to the top. It took a thousand warm interactions to counter every hostile or cold one, and Fox hadn't had even a hundred warm interactions. As if it couldn't get any tougher for Plo, he also had to get past Fox's distrust for jetiise. Yes, some were kind, but others were not. While he would never outright admit it, those others had made Fox fear them. "Allow me to escort you to the prison then, sir, where you can try your hand at interrogation."

[ironhoshi]

Everything is old. Boba makes a face of mild disgust before he swipes a hand across a console screen. Dust clings to the side of his hand and streaks on the screen. He doubts the thing has power.

"I wonder what data it holds," Cal says from right behind him. Boba tenses. Why must all jetiise move so karking silently? 

"Nothing. It's long dead," he snaps.

Cal hums thoughtfully and Boba can feel the tip of his ears grow hot.