#tiny!tal'ika | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soundwavefucker69 · 4 years

Note

Baby Tal'ika: Mace takes one look at this kid and kisses any peace goodbye

ohohohohoho let’s have some fun with this. I think it’s gonna be long, so I’m putting in a break

-----------

It took a grand total of three seconds for Mace to come to the conclusion that this was his future padawan, and another three seconds for him to come to the conclusion that he was never going to know another moment’s peace in his entire life. Really, it wasn’t hard. The tiny initiate was somewhere between adorable, achingly sad, angry, lonely, scared, and something else Mace had rarely, if ever, seen on a child their age: resigned.

They were resigned, and he could see it in their eyes.

They were also like a dying star in the Force, and already knew how to trick the perceptions of sentients to pass unnoticed and unseen, which brought him to the question of why someone had taught them that at an age when that was the last thing you wanted a youngling who was not supposed to go missing to know.

Mace felt a lot of things when he looked down at one Tal’ika Fox-Kenobi, and not all of them were positive, but they were all very, very sure. Confident. Aching, in their own way.

And the child just looked at him, set their stubborn jaw, and flopped down on the grass of the Room of One Thousand Fountains before reaching up with one tan hand to grasp his own.

“I want to meditate,” they announced, and Mace felt something in his heart ache, because what child their age wanted to meditate?

“Alright,” he agreed, and sat down with them. “But can we speak first?”

They were old, but they had also been raised by a Jedi. And apparently a whole cluster of clones, but that was neither here nor there. So, realistically, they were a youngling, and didn’t need to be initiated into the Jedi, but they also needed to be verified. For a lot of reasons. The way Qui-Gon had brought Anakin into the temple had been a hot mess, ignoring a variety of regulations that were in place to protect a prospective initiate, spouting off about prophecies and things that a child shouldn’t have to worry about, but Anakin had been a lot of things. And Tal’ika had been a lot of things, too. He wasn’t going to do this in the council chambers, which were big and terrifying for someone so young. No, the fountains were a far safer place, far more secure and less scary.

“Yes,” Tal’ika replied, but they hadn’t let go of his hand. Raised by clones, indeed. They were probably used to contact, and constant contact, at that.

“Alright,” he said slowly, and let his big hand lay out on his knee so they could trace over the lines in his palm and pick at his calluses. “You can’t answer wrong, so just be honest with me, and I will be honest with you. Is that fair?”

Tal’ika paused, tilting their head in consideration as they looked for loopholes in that statement, before they nodded, firm and sure.

“Yes. That’s fair,” they decided, firmly, with confidence that made his heart sing. This was a child that was young, and well adjusted, and well loved, for all the turmoil he sensed in them.

“Thank you,” he said seriously, because he always made a habit to thank young ones. “Can I ask you about where you’re from?”

“A ship,” they replied. “The last one blew up, so Cody called help, so we’ve been on the Havoc Marauder.”

Okay, that was concerning. Mace knew that name. No wonder Tal’ika already bit three people. He couldn’t even blame them.

“Not on a star destroyer?” He hedged out, and they scrunched up their nose as they turned his hand over to trace the curves of his fingers.

“Why would I be on a star destroyer? Plo saved me from the Empire, why would I be back with them?”

The what now?

“Why did he save you?” He asked, and they looked up at him like he was stupid.

“Because they killed people like me,” they replied, like it was obvious. “They killed you.”

“I see,” he said seriously, as something uncomfortable settled in his gut. “How did they manage that?”

“You tried to arrest the Emperor, and then he killed the whole council and the Order and threw you out a window,” they replied and frowned. “You don’t take care of your cuticles, Master Windu. That’s not healthy. Plo makes a good cream for cuticles.”

“I’ll be sure to ask him for it,” Mace promised, because Plo did make good cuticle cream, and was constantly harassing Mace in that polite way about how he kept leaving his cuticles cracked and bleeding, and that was a bit easier to focus on than the whole Order being killed. “How long ago was that?”

“Uh... thirteen years? I think? I wasn’t born yet. There’s chips in my bavodu’e’s heads, and they had to kill you. Plo likes to kidnap them so he can take them out. He even taught me how! It’s fun. Better than staying on the ship, anyways,” they responded and rubbed at his cuticles with a little furrow in their brow. “Your cuticles are a mess.”

“My apologies. I’ve been too busy to take care of my cuticles,” Mace said, because they were really liking to circle back to the cuticles. Chips? What on earth? “Tell me about how you’ve been living.”

“We have to travel around a lot, on account of me and the bavodu’e being Impir-icle property that stole ourselves,” Tal’ika responded and shifted their little fingers to start pushing back the offending cuticles. “And Plo is supposed to be dead, so they’re pretty mad about that. He’s very proud that he keeps making them mad. He won’t say it, of course, but he’s very proud.”

“Who do you live with?” Mace prompted, and Tal’ika sneezed. He didn’t even flinch at the flying bits of snot that splattered his hand. They had at least tried to do it into their arm, and they wiped his skin off with their sleeve before going right back to getting his cuticles presentable.

“Uh... Right now, we have Plo, Wolffe, Sinker, Cody, Rex, and we just kidnapped Gregor. Oh! And the Bad Batch. Echo is teaching me how to slice, and Hunter gave me a knife, and Crosshair taught me how to make a headshot. Cody was upset about that. Actually, Cody is upset about everything everyone is doing, because the Bad Batch are ‘gremlins’ and are making me ‘too feral and competentent’. Neyo just left, to join the Rebellion, and he took Thire with him, because Thire keeps getting sad about me, and Neyo didn’t want him to be alone. I think I made him sad, too. But they might be sad because Bly just marched on. He didn’t do well when we took the chip out and got sick. I mean, not sick like when I get a tummy ache, but sick like he didn’t want to get out of bed and just stared at the wall all day. He wasn’t doing well, and then he was gone, and Neyo was trying to take care of him, but Rex said sometimes other people aren’t enough to make you better.”

Mace knew Commander Bly, and the casual hints being dropped that Tal’ika didn’t fully understand was making his stomach sink in his gut. Empire, Order dead, chips that made the clones kill their Jedi, Plo kidnapping clones to take the chips out... It painted a morbid picture for Bly, and a morbid one for Aayla, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to confront the picture in the presence of a child.

“Sometimes people aren’t enough,” he agreed, as careful as he could manage, and Tal’ika looked at him with the big amber eyes he’d seen a million times.

“Is that why Plo is sad?”

“... Yes. That’s why Plo is sad,” because even now Plo was sad, and Mace hated to see it. He couldn’t imagine how Plo would be in the aftermath of a very morbid future Tal’ika was painting. “Can you tell me how Plo is teaching you?”

“Everyone teaches me,” Tal’ika replied dismissively, and went back to pushing back his cuticles. “But Plo and I do meditation in the morning. And before bed. It’s a little hard, with how everyone is sleeping on top of each other right now. Not much room. Lots of people. I have to share a bed with Echo and Tech, cause we’re the smallest. We do a lot of exercises, and he teaches me things.”

“Like how you hide,” Mace supplied, and they nodded firmly.

“Yeah. And the Code, but they also teach me the Resol’nare. Plo lets them, though, so long as I understand how to follow the Code.”

It would seem that in the aftermath of devastation, what few clones left were clinging to the Mandalorian diaspora. He didn’t know how to feel about that. Did that make Tal’ika the second Mandalorian Jedi in history? Force, that was going to be a headache when they got older.

“And your regular studies?”

“Uh...” Color rose in their cheeks. “Leia says they are ‘un-or-tho-dox, but Tech says they’re re-le-vant.”

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have expected much from a half feral Jedi youngling raised by some of the most unorthodox clones he had ever heard of. Cody was wonderful, but he had met Captain Rex, and he knew for a fact their educational modules had to be a hot mess. And then Plo had gone and tossed them in with the damned Bad Batch. Granted, it sounded like he was desperate, given the previous ship blowing up, but the very thought of Tech getting his hands on a hyper intelligent Force sensitive child’s educational requirements was headache inducing.

Yes, the Temple was going to be better for them. Much better for them.

“Can we meditate now?” Tal’ika asked, their voice barely pitching into a whine, and Mace decided he’d grilled them enough. The picture they painted was a bleak future, where the survivors fought for what little happiness a hard galaxy could afford them. And, well, he still had to accept them into the temple, and he had to actually examine their Force core in order to do that.

He knew they would pass, of course, just as sure as he knew they would be his. It was a quiet, uncomfortable confidence in his gut that he hadn’t felt since he first laid eyes on Depa, but this was going to be his padawan, Obi-Wan and Plo be damned.

“Yes. Of course. May I--- Oh.”

Tal’ika had simply climbed to their feet and plopped right between his crossed legs. Right. Raised by clones. Of course Plo would indulge their tactile nature in meditation, and of course they were still young enough to get away with it.

Tal’ika’s spine straightened, and then they breathed out, their eyes slipping shut as they crossed their legs to balance on his calves. Mace just came to the conclusion that this child was forceful, possibly a little too forceful, but there was little harm in it. They evidently had a good head on their shoulders, and far be it from Mace to ever tell a little one no. So, he just balanced his hands on his knees and relaxed into a meditation with their warm back pressed up against his chest.

“Do you need me to walk you through it?” He asked, and they firmly shook their head no.

“No. Plo says it’s time for me to start doing it on my own,” they replied firmly, and Mace’s lips twitched in a smile. Of course they were going to be advanced. This was a Kenobi child.

“Alright. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

They were so firm, so sure of themselves. He didn’t think they’d ever heard a disparaging word from someone in their life, and he was quietly glad for it. There was nothing that gave him greater hope than a young child who knew exactly who they were and what they wanted, a child who had never once been given room to doubt themselves and their needs, who expressed things firmly and aggressively without a hint of shame. It was a good thing.

Slipping into meditation was as easy as breathing. Their little back pressed against his chest, and he followed each breath as they sunk into the Force together, their Force signatures tangling together as they steadily dropped their shields to share with him. Mace let them drift, cataloguing and categorizing the conflicting emotions that had risen up within himself and setting them aside. Anger was there, and pain, and confusion, and fear. How could he not be afraid? They had essentially spoken of genocides, of the clones and the Jedi, and this was his home. His family. He was the Grand Master of the Order, and he had evidently failed it in their time.

He would have to do better.

Tal’ika was still at an age where they needed a little help, and Mace set to the task with an age-old comfort as he helped them identify the emotions in their body that was too damn small for the burning Force presence that engulfed them. They were angry, and they were terrified, despite the cool exterior. They had communicated as much as they could, but someone, namely Plo, had evidently taught them extensively about when words weren’t enough, the Force would suffice. No wonder they had been so demanding about meditation. The fear of all the changes and confusion was a roiling core, and Mace nudged along at their shields, coaxing them into letting them down so he could help.

They did, easily, with only the trust of a child, and Mace hummed as he reached out to touch that fear and press forward with comfort and reassurance. Letting go wasn’t enough, sometimes. It took awhile to learn, and they were far too young to have it mastered. Being validated was important, too, and he made sure to acknowledge the fear and uncertainty overtaking them. It was only natural.

Inch by inch, they let go of the fear, and he buffeted them with warmth and acceptance as they did. The trust of a child was always an overwhelming sort of thing, and he couldn’t help but wish he could spend more time with younglings. It was a lot easier, even with time-traveling post-apocalypse younglings. Adults got wrapped up in their emotions and consumed by them. Younglings, though, did a lot better with letting comfort be comfort and fear be fear and anger be anger. They didn’t mix things up, took anger for safety and fear for a shield.

After helping them detach from their fear and pain and loneliness, which they let go with surprising swiftness, he spent a little time nudging along their shields and examining who the Force was telling him they were. Tal’ika Fox, the child of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard, was a lot more than their lineage. Sifting around, he could see that they were kind, at their core, not at all like their father, who Mace knew never hesitated to cut someone down if they stood in the way of justice. No, this was someone who would hesitate, and at any given opportunity. However, interspersed with that kindness and desire to help was an unsteady nature. No, even unstable, which could be attributed to the cloning techniques used to make them. Or perhaps they had been engineered to be more aggressive and unbalanced. He wouldn’t put it past the Kaminoans. Plo had been apparently doing his damned best to prove the difference in nature versus nurture, though, given how Tal’ika had just demanded meditation when they felt like they couldn’t keep it together for much longer. As they got older, they might need real medication to help balance them out, but for now they could do their best to balance them out in the temple and their upbringing.

Compassion was there, too. Boundless compassion, and forgiveness, which was going to be a given, given their Plo’s apparent proclivities for kidnapping and yanking control chips out of clones’ heads. They’d probably been shot at a fair number of the clones they’d saved, and probably had been scared by a good amount of them, but here they were. All of the tenants of the Order so entrenched in their being.

Yes. They would be fine for the Jedi.

It was almost nice, sitting in the grass with them on his lap, taking this meditation so seriously, serious as a heart attack. He could feel their single minded focus, and it brought a sense of fondness to the whole ordeal. He needed to do this more often, probably after he solved the problems presented by their little time traveling initiate. He almost lost track of time, just letting the Force flow around them as he let his mind drift, emotions rising up and being set to the side, correcting nudges given whenever their attention began to focus. In fact, he did lose track of time, right up until the moment someone cleared their throat behind him. He hadn’t even felt Ponds come up, more focused on fixing Tal’ika’s posture.

“Commander,” he said as he opened his eyes. Tal’ika let out a quiet noise of frustration at the interruption, and he patted them on their shoulder.

“You told me to collect you for the briefing, sir,” Ponds said, and Mace ignored the mild amusement radiating off the man at the sight of his general with a mini Obi-Wan in his lap.

“Well, we’ll have to drop Initiate Tal’ika off at their creche, first,” he replied as Tal’ika climbed to their feet and straightened their robes, which they seemed to be deeply displeased to be wearing.

“I can take myself,” Tal’ika declared, and Mace cringed at the thought.

“The last time you ‘took yourself’ to the creche, you ended up in the restricted section of the Archives with a lightsaber that did not belong to you,” he replied, and Tal’ika paused.

“Well, if you don’t want your weapons to go missing, you shouldn’t leave them laying around just anywhere,” they sniffed. “Cody told me Obi-Wan was always leaving his saber everywhere, so I was really doing a good deed. For Cody.”

Ponds was physically restraining himself from laughing, and Mace was just infinitely glad he had no bad habits, because he wasn’t sure he’d survive the humiliation of Tal’ika helpfully correcting his.

“I’m not sure Obi-Wan would agree with you, Tal’ika,” he said gravely, and Tal’ika crinkled up their nose.

“That’s because he doesn’t know what’s good for him, Master Windu.”

“Sir, you are going to miss the briefing,” Ponds cautioned, and Mace leaned over to pick Tal’ika up and set them on his hip.

“I’m the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. They can wait,” he replied, and Tal’ika snorted.

“That’s abuse of power,” they said, very seriously, like they had heard it many, many times before.

“We all have our vices, Initiate Tal’ika,” Mace replied, just as seriously, and Tal’ika took his face in two very small hands to turn it to them so they could look him directly in the eye.

“I don’t.”

Ah, yes. Their apprenticeship was going to be a nightmare. Mace couldn’t wait.

#realityhoudini #shrooms is writing #rex fox comes running #mace windu #listen Tal'ika would objectively be the PERFECT apprentice for him #especially temple raised Tal #this is turning into its own fic and I don't regret anything #tiny!tal'ika

30 notes · View notes

soundwavefucker69 · 4 years

Text

I have been thinking about Tal’ika and baby Tal’ika specifically and I desperately need to write this, so have a time traveling mini Tal’ika rather than fully grown time traveling Tal’ika, because I love them.

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

There’s a very small child in the middle of a field, scowling up a storm with three dismantled B2 units around them. They’ve got fiery red hair in a curly mess that may have once been thoughtful and lovingly made braids and dark skin and they look about ready to punt the nearest patronizing face into the red sun that lights up this podunk world that really shouldn’t be as important as it is. There’s a familiar lightsaber hilt in their too-small hand, and they are brimming with the Force and potential and life and liberty and looking at them is like looking at a dying star and Obi-Wan can only think ‘oh no’.

There were already jokes about Cal Kestis, and this child looks like someone tossed him and Jango Fett in a Kaminoan blender and prayed for the best.

“Where’s Plo?” They demanded with all of the offense of a child left alone in a market, and Obi-Wan can only stare.

“Jedi Master Plo Koon?” He asked faintly, because this child certainly wasn’t dressed like an initiate, and yet here they were, showing signs of advanced training and practically screaming that they had been taught a lot more katas than someone should have taught a child their age.

“My Plo, yes,” they growled, and Obi-Wan stared down at them.

“Well, he’s certainly not on this planet,” he hedged. “Can you explain how you got here, young one?”

“Why are there clankers?” They demanded, glaring up at him like he had caused them personal offense, and he blinked, long and slow, before checking to make sure that he hadn’t dropped his lightsaber.

No. He hadn’t. It was right there on his belt, where it was normally supposed to be, and this child was still glaring at him.

“Because you’re in the middle of a warzone.”

“General Kenobi, come in,” a voice crackled out of his comm, and he tapped it.

“Commander Cody---”

“My Cody?” The child demanded, and Obi-Wan blinked again.

“I don’t think so?”

“Cody, why is Dad here?” The child demanded, loud and imperious, and Obi-Wan suddenly understood the urge to faint to get out of an uncomfortable situation.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sir, do you have a cadet with you? This planet is uninhabited,” Cody asked over the comms, confusion barely tinting his tone, and the child made a noise of pure offense.

“I’m not a cadet, and I’m not a boy or a girl, I’m a pain, because Rex said so!”

“I’ll meet you at the rendezvous,” Obi-Wan said quickly and ended the comm before turning to the child. “What is your name and how did you get here?”

“Plo put me in the temple and told me to hide so I hid!” The child answered angrily. “And you should know my name, Plo told you, my name is Tal’ika, because Wolffe named me before you could and---”

“Why would I give you a name?” Obi-Wan blurted, confusion rising, and Tal’ika, apparently, stared at him like he was stupid.

“Well, I couldn’t be OB-7 for the rest of my life! That would be tragic! And awful! Ex-specially because OB-7 means there should be other OBs and I was the only one left and Sinker said it was depressing when I wasn’t supposed to hear him!”

There wasn’t a temple here. Or, there shouldn’t be a temple here. At least, it wasn’t a Jedi one; it was a Zeffo temple, and...

And.

And, oh, oh dear Force, no.

“Tal’ika,” Obi-Wan said and went down onto one knee, looking at this tiny ball of rage that had ripped apart three battle droids without breaking a sweat and was dropping clone names from all manners of legions like they had met them all. “Can you tell me what Coruscanti year it is, please?”

Tal’ika huffed and crossed their arms.

“No such thing as Coruscant,” they said derisively. “It’s the Imperial year, cause the Emperor is a demagolka who can’t help but ruin things that don’t need fixing, and it’s 1,025. Two suns is no good for you if you don’t even know what year it is. You should have left Tatooine sooner. You’re all cooked in the head.”

Tatooine--- 1,025?

“Ah. I see,” Obi-Wan said carefully, and Tal’ika squinted at him, angry and upset, and something very uncomfortable began twisting in his gut under their scrutiny.

“What?” They demanded. “I want Plo. Did he send you to bring me back to him?”

“Tal’ika. Did you, perhaps, touch something you ought not to have touched in the temple?” Obi-Wan asked weakly, and Tal’ika screwed up their freckled nose.

“No. I don’t touch anything in any temple unless Plo tells me I can,” they replied firmly. “I just walked around the little stone in the center but then he didn’t come back and I got hungry.”

To punctuate their point, their little stomach growled angrily, and Obi-Wan tried to sift through the variety of thoughts spiraling around his brain helplessly.

“Well, Tal’ika, we have a bit of a conundrum. Because it’s not actually 1,025. It’s 1,010.”

Tal’ika stared at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan stared back, and something very close to distress flickered in their Force presence before they just marched forward and abruptly smacked the back of their hand to his forehead.

“The suns cooked you, Dad,” they declared, and Obi-Wan realized he had a big, big problem on his entirely unqualified hands.

Anakin was going to go ballistic.

#red fox comes running #shrooms is writing #if you want more baby tal #send an ask and i will take it into consideration #meaning i will ABSOLUTELY write more baby tal #tiny!tal'ika

28 notes · View notes

soundwavefucker69 · 4 years

Note

Baby Tal'ika: Mace officially taking them as his Padawan

fhdskfhdkjshkjf okay let’s do this

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

“If the honorable Senator Weezin doesn’t want us to investigate a missive from his own planet, perhaps the Senator should not be doing things that requires an investigation, Chancellor Organa.”

A headache was starting to grow just behind Mace’s eyes, a steady and aching pressure that was driving him to distraction, and today was not a day where he could afford a headache that set him off. He’d have to go to Vokara before heading down to the salles.

“Mace, I’m just trying to figure out what is actually going on here, because I’m getting conflicting reports. I don’t like Senator Weezin, either, but I also need to know what’s happening when it regards one of my senators,” Bail said, and rubbed at his eyes.

“Well, we aren’t sure what’s going on, either, and when I have information, I will forward it as relevant. Master Secura just left, and I have nothing currently to report,” Mace explained. “If he wants to pitch a fit, he can pitch a fit to the child king he made the mistake of trying to turn into a figurehead.”

“The reconstructionists want to order you all back to Coruscant. Again,” Bail said quietly, and Mace tried to bat down the growing irritation.

“And they will receive the same answer. You all signed the Palpatine Accords. You can’t void it now that you’re mad militarizing the Jedi has lasting consequences. We are beholden to the Republic, not the Senate, and it is going to remain that way,” Mace bit out, and Bail sighed, sunk down in his seat on the other end of the holo transmission.

“Is Senator Weezin corrupt?” He asked quietly, and Mace bit back the information he had.

“That’s what the investigation is for.” He was absolutely corrupt, but the Jedi handled their own investigations now, and only delivered their reports once everything had been fact checked at least four times, with independent consultants verifying their information. They had to protect themselves.

“Well. I hope Master Secura is thorough.”

“She has Bly with her. She’ll be very thorough,” Mace assured him, because there was nothing that got a Jedi going like showing off their competence to their partner. “Speaking of Bly, is Rizz doing alright?”

“Rizz has put the fear of the manda into Senator Tectate, and I am very much looking forward to them doing it again,” Bail said wryly. “I was worried you’d sent us a pushover when I met them, but they’re practically running the Senate at this point. I’ve never seen the reconstructionists so scared to take the floor. I think they’re going to be my replacement in another ten years.”

Mace was not satisfied with the assessment. He wasn’t, but it was a close thing.

“Rizz is made of firmer stuff than you’d think. I think they’re planning on making another committee.”

“The Senate is not going to survive if they make another one. Please talk them down,” Bail almost pleaded, but Mace knew he wanted it.

“I’ll have Fox talk to them. In the meantime, I have an appointment, so can we continue this discussion at a later time?”

“Tal’ika is twelve today, aren’t they?” Bail asked mildly, deceptively so, and Mace let his lips twitch in something that was almost a smile.

“They are, and I believe they’re in the salles,” he replied, and Bail looked extremely pleased.

“I look forward to your next trip to Coruscant,” he said, and Mace thought of Tal’ika in the Senate chambers. Force, that was going to be a nightmare.

“I’ll keep the theatrics to a minimum.” He wasn’t going to keep them to a minimum. He was going to encourage them.

“Please don’t. Rizz has been talking about today, and so has Padme. They’re excited.”

Rizz was going to be handling their political education. He wasn’t going to let Padme anywhere near Tal’ika. They were bad enough with Anakin.

“I’m sure they are,” he agreed, as serenely as he dared, and stood up to give Bail a severe bow. “Until next time, Chancellor.”

“May the Force be with you,” Bail said, and inclined his head.

“And with you.”

The transmission cut out, and Mace picked up his robe. A quick painkiller, and then he had a Initiate to locate in the salles. The exhibition was starting soon.

With a sigh, he rolled out his shoulders and shrugged on the robe before sweeping out of the empty Council chambers. Quick steps led him through the twisting labyrinth that was the new Temple, and he breathed in the serenity and clarity he had sorely missed. Five years since the end of the war, and fires were still being put out across the galaxy. The separation from the Senate and Coruscant had been sorely needed, and he found that he didn’t regret it as much as he possibly should have. It was better this way. Clearer. With firm boundaries, and actual treaties to keep their independence. The war had been hard, as short as it was, and painful. It had left deep scars on the Order as a whole, but here, they were healing, no longer held hostage by their beliefs.

All because of one time traveling impossibility. A flicker of fondness rose in his chest as he strode through halls made from trees and stone, and he let himself breathe in the reality that things were better now. Some things had changed, some things had remained the same. He didn’t necessarily think their monastic principles prior to the war had been wrong. Far from it. Jedi had families. They had lovers, and healthy attachments. But things had changed in an irrevocable way, and they had to move with the changes. They had sustained scars, and deep ones. The picture of a galaxy where the people had turned on them in such a vicious manner was a hard one, the future Tal’ika painted bleak, because it had all been a trap, and they were blamed for falling into it, despite the fact that they really had no choice. They’d come out with scars, and while they were luminous beings, not constrained by mortal flesh, they were not unlike a body that had sustained heavy damage, and needed to correct as necessary to survive it.

And now they had a new home, made of tree and stone, with a world removed from the strife and conflict, but still participating on their own terms. The world they came to had been renamed Refuge, and millions of refugees from across the galaxy had gathered there, seeking solace. A new culture had rose up, part Jedi, part clone, part bits and pieces of the shattered remains. It was a culture of healing and acceptance, with the leadership populated with clones and freedom fighters like Saw and Stella Guerrera. It was strange, monks existing in the midst of a hardened warrior culture, but it was a nice strange. Even Guardians of Jedha had come to help with the rebuilding. Two of them, Chirrut and Baze, were a fan favorite among the Initiates, and Tal’ika adored them, spoke of how they had hidden them and Plo once upon a time. A kyber cave had been discovered, and the Guardians stood watch over it.

He was happy. It was a strange thing. And now, today was a day to take another step into normalcy. Fox was very anxious to hear about how it went, like it was ever in doubt. It wasn’t like anyone was going to sweep Tal’ika up under Mace’s nose. Tal’ika knew who their master was. He’d already gotten the master-padawan quarters set up, not that they knew that. Fox had helpfully provided their favorite blanket from his house, and Obi-Wan had swung in to be present for it today, and Ahsoka was beside herself with planning for the confusing lineage dinner tonight. Anakin had helpfully broken into Yoda’s quarters with Caleb’s assistance to steal the ingredients for swamp stew. Mace needed to thank him privately for that one. He was turning Caleb into a borderline delinquent, but Mace wasn’t going to complain. So long as Luke and Leia didn’t follow in his footsteps. He wouldn’t be able to handle the twin terrors turning their attention onto him.

Depa was, of course, serene and above it all, but he had a feeling that she was the one that gave Anakin the idea.

The salles were drawing near, and he realized he was going to be late if he didn’t get a move on. The meeting with Bail had dragged out longer than he thought it would.

The open salles were a mess of prospective masters watching the new initiates. Tal’ika was stretching in the corner, breathing through the stretch and pull of their muscles, and Mace settled in next to Obi-Wan.

“Picking a padawan finally?” He asked mildly, and Obi-Wan gave him a side-eye, like he didn’t damn well know he’d had his eye on the tiny Zabrak Nightbrother Boil and Waxer had ‘liberated’ from Dathomir. Tenacity was cute, and an unholy terror when Tal’ika started their instigating, but he managed to get them to slow down on occasion. He was a good, calm, grounding influence. Obi-Wan, after all of the bullshit Anakin put him through, definitely deserved a calm padawan.

“It’s my child’s choosing day,” he said with a dignified sniff, but his attention was drifting to the tiny little brown child helping Tal’ika stretch. Anakin, the new fledgling Battlemaster, was chatting with Cin Drallig in the corner. Cin had been preparing him for the role over the past five years, and this was the first year Anakin had really been set loose on the temple and Initiates. It was a good role for him, and it kept him from causing more diplomatic incidents. Mace rather liked being able to nail him down to Refuge and not cause problems. Padme probably appreciated it, too. She loved her husband dearly, and loved their visits, but she also appreciated the Order keeping him in line and out of her work. After the fifteenth Ohnaka incident, Mace couldn’t say he was upset to have Anakin practically quarantined to the planet. The very idea of Anakin taking another bundle of padawans for a liberating slave run when they had Knights for that was enough to make him grateful for his lack of hair to lose.

“Have your friends made any more incursions into Dathomir?” Mace asked, and Obi-Wan went suspiciously silent.

“Well, if they did, they didn’t tell me outright.”

“... Obi-Wan.”

“They are simply not on the planet at the moment,” Obi-Wan sniffed, and Mace sighed.

“They’re not helping our reputation.”

“We didn’t snatch them. And they had the fathers’ permission last time.”

“They kidnapped the fathers last time, too.”

“And they are now in wonderful, fulfilling relationships. Boil and Waxer are quite taken with their husbands. Did you know they started a communal garden?”

“I’m sure it’s lovely.”

“Alright,” Anakin called and clapped his hands. “In your lines! Remember your blood circle!”

“Why does he keep calling the safety circle a blood circle,” Mace muttered, and Obi-Wan sniffed delicately.

“It stresses the importance of responsibility.”

And the Initiates were giggling. Again. But they were also lining up quite nicely, so Mace couldn’t be too upset.

“Let’s run through our katas!” Anakin called, and ignited his saber. Hisses broke out across the salles, and the Initiates all fell into proper form. A beat, and then Anakin started walking through their warm-ups, counting in time. Fifteen Initiates followed suit, and Mace’s attention was drawn to his future padawan adding in some excessive flourishes they were unashamedly not trying to hide. Ah, well. They were Obi-Wan’s kid, it was to be expected.

The warm-up lasted ten minutes, and he hummed as he watched Tal’ika comfortably fit into the flow of the proceedings.

“If you’re asking Tenacity today, bring him to the dinner,” he said, and Obi-Wan shot him a look.

“I didn’t say I was asking him.”

A nudge of the Force had the woven strips of leather to stand in for a braid shifting in Obi-Wan’s pocket, and Obi-Wan gave him an answering nudge to make Tal’ika’s beads clack in Mace’s own pocket.

“I had Depa bully Grey into making tiingilar. He liked it when Boil and Waxer made it,” Mace said, and Obi-Wan huffed.

“It’s rude to make them share the same day,” Obi-Wan sniffed, and Mace rolled his eyes as Tenacity’s gaze shot to Tal’ika as his wrist copied their unnecessary flourish.

“They share everything, anyways. Tal’ika is going to be miffed if they’re apprenticed before him, and he’s going to be disappointed.”

“Fine, yes, you caught me, I’m going to ask him,” Obi-Wan muttered, and Mace’s lips twitched up.

“Good. Fox is coming.”

“Did you invite the whole planet?”

“Absolutely not. Ahsoka did. Your lineage is going to make a mess of my quarters.”

“I’ll make sure Anakin picks up after himself.”

The warm-up came to a close, and Anakin ordered the little ones to take a water break before pairing up. Unsurprisingly, Tal’ika grabbed Tenacity and dragged him to the very center of the salle, like they somehow had something to prove, and Mace’s nose screwed up as the two shared a water bottle before Tal’ika gave a pointed pat to Tenacity’s horns and shot a deliberate glance over at Obi-Wan.

“I told you. They’d be mad,” he added, entirely unhelpfully, and Obi-Wan sighed.

“How many people will be at this dinner and do you have the space for another?”

“I already made space for him. And you, me, Tal’ika, Tenacity, Anakin, Depa, Grey, Yoda invited himself, and Plo followed, Wolffe is off world on the threat of swamp stew, Caleb, Fox, Cody, and Ahsoka. Anakin might bring the twins, so keep a close eye on your lightsaber. Leia has grown a penchant for blatant theft.”

“... Yoda is coming?” Obi-Wan looked downright pained, and Mace shot another glance at him.

“I have it on good authority that a mysterious thief pilfered his pantry.”

“Oh. Then that’s fine,” Obi-Wan said, and Mace snorted.

“He probably has a secret stash of ingredients, so put your negotiator face on, and you might survive.” Yoda was suspiciously absent from the proceedings, so Mace didn’t have much hope for escape. He should have really considered the logistics of lineage blending before he set his eyes on Tal’ika and decided on the spot that they were his padawan.

“Force spare me,” Obi-Wan muttered, and Mace bit back a smile. It was almost worth it to choke through the stew to see Obi-Wan’s reactions to being subjected to it for the umpteenth time.

“They’re starting.”

Tal’ika was giving Tenacity a bow, and Tenacity was following suit. A break, and then the exhibition started. As ever, Tal’ika was aggressive, in possibly the most blatant tease Mace had ever seen. Tenacity met it with good humor, his blade flashing as he smiled that quiet little smile he had perfected when it came to Tal’ika’s nettling. Elbows and knees Fox had unfortunately taught them were being thrown in, and Tenacity was blocking them with aplomb. Anakin had started an initiative for bringing in clones to help with training, and it showed. The initiates were not above cheap shots, and trained heavily to learn how to match and block them. It used to bother Mace, but he could see the importance of it, after the war. And the Initiates loved being encouraged to be sneaky and tricky. They got creative with it, and it showed when Tenacity caught a lunge by Tal’ika and flung them over his hip. Tal’ika went down, but their legs tangled up with his and the two twelve year olds ended up in a lump on the ground, laughing loudly when Tenacity’s face smacked into their nose.

The laughing abruptly stopped when Tal’ika realized that hurt, and then Tenacity just laughed at them again as he detangled himself and sprang back, blatantly baiting them. Mace sighed and rubbed at his eyes, and Tal’ika sprang into motion with a showy move, knocking his legs out from under him and pressing him to spring back, a wide swath of his blade putting some distance. Tal’ika pressed forward again, their sabers clashing, and their free hand grabbed his arm when he overextended himself in a lunge. They pulled him in, and a neat twist of their saber sent his hilt clattering away as they pulled him chest to chest, their saber teasingly placed in a way under his throat in a way that would have given Mace a heart attack if he didn’t know that at the most, it would maybe sting a little and irritate the skin.

“I win,” they said smugly, and Tenacity huffed.

“I want to go again,” he said, almost petulantly, and Mace idly wondered who had taught them that disarming move. It stank of Agen’s influence.

“... If we do joint missions, we’re going to have a problem,” Obi-Wan muttered, and Mace considered the merits.

“First mission we should unleash them on the Senate. Do you think Tenacity’s tooka eyes will be a devastating combo with their glares?”

“Absolutely. Rizz will love it. They might steal them.”

“I might let them.”

Anakin let them run a few more spars, where Tal’ika and Tenacity took turns disarming each other and winning, and Mace got a sinking suspicion that they had absolutely planned to take turns making the other look good. Like they somehow had anything to prove, but he’d let them show off. Both of them were advanced for their age, and it was definitely time for them to start receive targeted training.

The exhibition lasted a good hour, and at the end of it, Tal’ika made a beeline for Mace and Obi-Wan, dragging Tenacity in their wake, and Mace tilted his head at the beaming Initiate.

“That was a good show,” he said approvingly, and Tal’ika grinned up at him.

“Didn’t Tenacity do well?” They demanded, and color rose in Tenacity’s cheeks.

“Tal,” he muttered, aggrieved, but they shoved him at Obi-Wan without a shred of shame.

“Dad, you should give him pointers,” they said, and then promptly grabbed Mace by the hand to drag him off. “I’ll see you at dinner!”

The dinner they weren’t supposed to know about, but Mace had learned three years ago hiding anything from Tal’ika Fox was not unlike trying to hide things from Yoda. They found out, and nothing was ever a surprise, but he supposed he could be content with that.

“You’re in a rush,” he commented, and they hummed.

“Tenacity is nervous, so I gotta put on a good show,” they said, and Mace sighed. So they were nervous, and all of this confidence was for Tenacity.

“Obi-Wan already has his braid, so there’s nothing to worry about,” he assured them, and they smiled.

“I know. I put it in his pocket,” they said. “He almost left it in his quarters.”

“So that was you.”

“He was going to ask him next week! I can’t be a Padawan for a week without him! He’d feel left out!” They protested, and Mace thought about a lecture about attachments, but it wasn’t really an attachment. Just meddling to make sure Tenacity’s self esteem was at appropriate levels.

As soon as they were out of range of the milling Masters and Knights speaking quietly with prospective Initiates, Tal’ika sobered, and Mace patiently waited for them to stride through the halls.

“Have you been having dreams again?” He asked, and Tal’ika hesitated.

“Yes,” they answered honestly, and their brows drew together. “It’s... confusing.”

“Do you want to talk about them?” He asked. The dreams of the life they had narrowly avoided had plagued them since they first landed in the middle of a warzone, talking about how Obi-Wan was cooked in twin suns, and it had always confused them. Plo was meant to be their master in that time, and then maybe Obi-Wan was their master, and then they were dying in an alley under Krell’s blade, and then they were kidnapped by a man in black and raised a Sith, or they died at his mercy for crimes someone else committed. It was a rough subject for them, and led to a lot of confusion as to what they were supposed to do with their life and who they were meant to be.

“No,” they decided, and he let them continue to lead them through the twists and turns of the Temple, knowing full well where they were going. The gardens were at the center of their new home, and work was constantly being done on them. The two of them passed Knight Beleren and Padawan Qin, who gave them serious nods, and Mace gave them a suspicious glance, because Tibalt definitely looked too innocent. Hopefully, they weren’t about to go drag racing again.

Problems for later.

“Are you having doubts?” He asked, and Tal’ika was quiet as they stepped through the doors to the Garden.

“I don’t think...” They trailed off, and Mace waited them out as they followed the turns to their favored spot, a still pond with fish brought in from Mon Cala.

“It’s just that...” They trailed off as they came a halt at the tree that rose up next to the pond, and serious amber eyes locked onto the pond. “I want to be your padawan, but...”

Mace was silent. Sometimes, it was best to let them talk out loud, because they needed a sounding board more than they needed advice.

“I can see whole lives that never happened, and I almost want to mourn them, even though... I think this is the first time I had a choice. It feels like... before I had to fight to choose, had to dip into some kind of war just to be somebody, and most of my choices were ones I had to battle to have. Now, it’s easy, and it almost feels like a cheat. Because nothing was supposed to be easy, and now it is,” they admitted. “I don’t... I know everything is pre-destined, but how can it be pre-destined, when all of these things happened, I know they happened, and then they didn’t? It feels like mistakes kept being made, and the Force used me to mop them up, and now I don’t feel like...”

They fell silent, frustrated and a little lost, and Mace thought about their first meeting in a room he would likely never see again, sitting in the grass as they picked at his cuticles. Just a child, lost in a void, looking for guidance while firmly rejecting it at every turn. They had had a lot of meltdowns in those early days, had needed a lot of help to guide them through the confusion of their existence that had been ripped away from them, and he had always mourned a little when he looked at them. They had turned the tide of the war, and done it at seven, and Jedi had not known a single thing about helping them. It took the vode to settle them, those worn and battered soldiers that had been born and molded in trauma and knew exactly how to help a child that was terrified.

“There’s a lot of ideas about what destiny is,” Mace said finally, and they looked up at him with all of the vulnerability of a child. “All of us are a part of it, but what destiny is... you can’t quantify it. You can’t consider it. I imagine the confusion will never stop, but... all you can do in the face of it is make choices in spite of it. I think you made a lot of choices in spite of it, in all of the lives you lived and didn’t live, and I think you should just continue to do it. Anakin... he was meant to be the Chosen One, and he was, to a degree.” After all, it was Anakin that compiled the evidence, and it was Anakin that had delivered the killing blow, but none of that would have been possible in this time without Tal’ika. There was a lot of confusion in the aftermath as to who the Chosen One was, and what it meant, but Mace... “But his choices didn’t exist in a vacuum. Everyone made choices to put him in the place where he needed to be. I think he was just the point where those choices converged, but Chosen One is simply a chosen time, with someone existing in the middle of it. Destiny is nothing but the choices we make, and what we choose to do with them. So ignore who you are and what you want to be and who you could have been, and just... make the choice that will make you happy. There’s a lot of stock in choosing to be happy. People don’t give it enough credit.”

Tal’ika looked down at the ground, and Mace took a seat in the grass, just like he did five years ago, and they paused before slowly sinking down next to him.

“You won’t betray the masters that could have been if you choose me, and you won’t betray me if you choose them,” he promised, even though it hurt to say. “All I ask is that you don’t betray yourself, as you are now, and as you want to be. Can you do that?”

Tal’ika sniffled, and tears rose up in their eyes, and Mace took a deep breath.

“If you want me, you have me. So will you do me the honor of trusting me to guide you into being who you want to be?”

Tal’ika paused, and the silence stretched out, broken by the chirps of birds and the gentle hum of the Force. And then, all around them, the Force broke.

“Yes,” they whispered, and he smiled.

“Then, Tal’ika Fox, I honor your name as my padawan.”

A sniffle, and then they dabbed at their eyes and let out a halfhearted sob.

“Mace Windu, I know your name as my teacher.”

Mace smiled, and with a touch to their red hair, three strands gathered in his fingers, he accepted the next step into a better future.

#realityhoudini #prompts #shrooms is writing #red fox comes running #tiny!tal'ika #yes I DID change Jedi vows to Mandalorian adoption vows #fight me #this took WAY too long to write #but I was vibing #i was vibing HARD #mace windu #tal'ika fox #jedi oc

28 notes · View notes

soundwavefucker69 · 4 years

Note

Baby Tal'ika: Meeting Fox? 🦊

Ask and ye shall receive

--------

There's a tiny Jedi and they have entirely invaded Fox's office. This is a feat, for a number of reasons, the first reason being that this child is far too small to be out of the temple without supervision, which means they somehow managed to slip past the temple guards, who are some of the most uptight and hyper vigilant bitches Fox has ever met. Which is their right, of course. If he had to guard a temple teeming with Force sensitive babies, he'd be pretty stressed out, too. The second reason, or course, is that Fox's office is at the heart of the Senate building, which means they somehow managed to breeze past an excess of guards, his trained guards, and security measures, locked doors, and failsafes to get in here.

And they're just sitting there. Curly red hair falling out of their braid. Picking with distaste at their little Jedi robes. Scowling up a storm. Just sitting on his desk like they've got some opinions and they're about to share them.

"Cadet---" Fox started to say, and they glared at him like he'd personally burned their crops.

"My name," they said imperiously, "is Tal'ika Fox. And this is a rescue."

That was about when Fox's brain short circuited, and his life abruptly took a violent nosedive and went to total fucking shit.

#red fox comes running #shrooms is writing #tal'ika's got OPINIONS #tiny!tal'ika

22 notes · View notes

soundwavefucker69 · 4 years

Note

For Baby Tal'ika: Fox and Mace talking about their kid, and how precious they are.

Oooo this brings up another thing I was thinking about that I should answer so I'm gonna do two birds one stone

----------

It took a lot of bribery and frayed tempers before Fox managed to personally drag Tal'ika back to the Temple. He was going to be a responsible vod and take this confused initiate in a safe and reasonable two seater speeder with edges and seatbelts, but the only way to talk the little demon down was to promise a ride on his own personal speeder bike, which was probably the most nervewracking ride of Fox's life. It was beyond relieving that it was a short ride.

Which led to now. Carrying the kid up the steps of the temple to deliver them to the guards. Except that didn't go the way it was supposed to go, because the guards informed him High General Mace Windu was needing to speak to him.

It was Fox's humble opinion that he had entirely too much paperwork to be dealing with any of this osik. But he wasn't going to say that in front of the kid he had perched on his shoulders. So instead he followed the guard into the depths of the temple, where the councilors had their own quarters.

General Windu was there, piled up to his ears in datapads and what looked like expenditure reports. He looked a little worse for wear. There was a massive purpling bruise across his face and his arm was in a sling. Tal'ika, however, did not seem to care in the slightest, because the first thing they did was wiggle down from Fox's shoulders and dart to Mace's side to covertly whisper in his ear.

"The Emperor is all in buir's head," they hissed in his ear. "I think you gotta fix it."

"I'm not your buir," Fox said tiredly, for the millionth time. "And there is no Emperor."

"Not yet, anyways," General Windu supplied, and frowned down at the mess that had become of their hair. "You got all the way to the Senate without anyone seeing you?"

"I did!" Tal'ika declared, probably a bit too proudly. "All the way to his office."

"You could have just asked me to call him over, Tal'ika," Windu said tiredly. "We'll be talking about this later. You had the whole temple in shambles trying to find you."

"Well, the temple needs better security," Tal'ima replied boldly, and Windu stared down at them with dead eyes.

"What if someone snatched you?"

"If the temple guards can't even see me when I don't want to be seen, who can grab me?" Tal'ika demanded, and Fox had to wonder just why he was here to deliver a child personally to the Grand Master of the entire karking Order.

"Droids. Droids can grab you, Tal'ika. Please go into the living room. I need to speak to Commander Fox."

Tal'ika's eerily familiar amber eyes turned on Fox, and they pointed at him imperiously.

"This is still a rescue!" They declared in perhaps the most threatening way he had ever heard out of a seven year old child, and then they were stealing away into the living room and leaving Fox alone with the general.

"Sir, I'm not sure why they---" Fox started to say, but Mace cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"No sirs in here. I need to talk to you as a parent."

An awkward silence spilled out, and Fox blinked multiple times as he tried to reason Mace's complexion with the red hair and golden skin of the child. The coloring did not seem right. And the kid was way too damn cute, almost unbearably so, to be Mace Windu's. The temperament was just not something he could ever associate with the general.

"So, Tal'ika seems to have accidentally time traveled to perhaps six to eight years before they were even born, and just confirmed that you are the clone parent we've been looking for. Obi-Wan is perfectly fine with them being raised in the temple as he was, but it would be downright wrong of us to not extend the same offer to you. I know with the war and your current legal status, a child would not be ideal in the slightest, so I'd like to extend the temple's upbringing to Tal'ika until you're in a spot where you have all of the resources to make a decision regarding their future."

Fox stared at Mace, and Mace stared back impassively.

"Of course, this would be after we arrested the Chancellor for crimes against the Republic."

"... Sir."

"Mace, for this topic of conversation. Please."

"Mace."

"Yes, Fox?"

"That was a lot of information. Can we please track back to the time traveling seven year old child that's apparently mine?"

"Of course. Child is a bit of a rocky area, because near as we can tell, they are definitely the product of Kaminoan genetic experimentation, and as for the time traveling... Ah, they were hidden in a Zeppho temple, and the Zeppho did a lot of things with the Force they probably shouldn't have. They're a blend of your DNA and Obi-Wan's, I believe. We were trying to figure out where they got the red hair from... the mutation from your strands makes more sense now."

".... That adorable child that just got through seventeen layers of security and broke into my office is mine?"

Mace's lips twisted only slightly, and then he grimaced, probably at the pain of his swollen face.

"Yes. The adorable child that made my temple guards and your coruscant guards look like amateurs is definitely your child."

Fox wasn't sure if he should be proud or start wondering when the appropriate age to make a child run suicides for punishment was.

Wait. He had a Jedi child?

"... You'll let me make a choice later?" He asked faintly and Mace nodded.

"Yes. Either way, we think it would be in yours and theirs best interest if the protocol regarding family separation was bent a bit. It has been before and ended terribly, but... Well. They spent the first seven years of their life surrounded by vode and not in a temple, and they're extremely well adjusted, all things considered. In fact, I don't think they would be half as well off if they didn't have their, ah, as they call it, bavodu'e, around."

Fox felt like the world had been yanked out from under his feet. All he could do was stare at Mace as he tried to figure out what was left and what was right and what was happening.

".... Arresting the Chancellor for treason?"

"Commander Cody has put together an impressive dossier, and Tal'ika's crechemaster has agreed to let them stay for latemeal. If I pull you from the remainder of your shift today, would you like to look over it over some curry?"

Was Mace offering to let Fox spend time with his child? While plotting a legal coup? Counter coup? What was going on?

"... What kind of curry?"

"Korun curry. Not nearly as spicy as regular Mandalorian cuisine, but Tal'ika likes it."

"... My kid broke out of the Jedi Temple and into the Senate building and you're planning to arrest the Chancellor." He might actually faint.

"Younglings have a lot of opinions and a variety of places where they can put them," Mace said seriously. "Now, Fox, yes or no to latemeal?"

He had a damn kid, and the kid liked Korun curry and speeder bikes.

"... Yes."

"Excellent. Would you like to help with chopping? I've only got one arm until tomorrow, unfortunately."

"... Yes."

"Tal'ika, you can stop eavesdropping!" Mace called, and a head full of red curls popped out from behind the door. Big amber eyes pinned Fox in place, and he stared at this utter gremlin of a child, and wondered just what the hell his life had become.

Fox was a loyal man. He was loyal to the Republic, and he was loyal to the vode, and he was loyal to the Jedi. But none of that... none of that mattered in the face of being loyal to messy braids and big amber eyes and freckles over dark skin.

"If I call you buir again, will you be a weirdo?" They demanded, and Fox blinked, slow and steady.

"If I called you a brat, would you call it child abuse?"

"Yes."

"Then no, I won't be a weirdo."

"Good." And then they marched out with all the self importance of a child who had never once been told to doubt themself, and tiny fingers seized his gloved hand. "You better not have nasty cuticles, too."

... He had no idea what that was about, but stars, he had a kid, and they were perfect, and this was his life now.

#shrooms is writing #red fox comes running #tiny!Tal'ika #BABY!!!

18 notes · View notes

soundwavefucker69 · 4 years

Note

Baby Tal'ika: Still managing to enrage Grievous

Oooohhhh this is gonna be fun okay so let’s try this

--------

He wasn’t entirely sure this child was supposed to be here. He honestly thought Kenobi was more responsible than that. Grievous wasn’t an expert on Human aging, not by any means, but this child was much smaller than even the smallest of Commanders he’d seen in mission reports. Too small to even have their own lightsaber, apparently, because this pint sized redhead had entirely given up on evasion and was now picking up a fallen DC-17 and hitting droids in the head with steady precision and deadly marksmanship.

He hadn’t thought Jedi taught their children how to use guns.

They weren’t even all that bothered by Kenobi picking them up at random intervals and hurling them out of harms way. It was like his men were playing a game of hot potato with a tiny little Jedi youngling, and if Grievous wasn’t so annoyed by them turning it into a game, he would have almost found it endearing. Almost.

“Who gave the mini Commander a gun?” One of the clones asked. “Who’s missing a 17?”

“General Kenobi!” That was enough. Grievous was intervening now, stalking into the hallway and brandishing his blades, because this was a battle and they were turning it into a circus.

“Someone toss me Tal’ika!” The commander, he was fairly sure it was the commander, called, and a nearby clone just picked the child up like a bag of tubers and threw the thing through the air. The commander caught the Jedi youngling, and they let out a muffled noise of protest at being so unjustly manhandled. The clone didn’t seem to care, opting to shove the child behind him, towards the blast doors.

“General Grievous!” Kenobi greeted him, and for the first time, the Jedi actually managed to look a little ruffled. There was a manic gleam in his eyes, like his life was spiraling out of control, and Grievous got the impression that the miniature Jedi who looked suspiciously like the general was a stowaway. “I’m afraid I don’t quite have the time to entertain you today! Terribly sorry!”

“Who is this ugly shabuir?” The child demanded, and the commander made a muffled noise of dismay.

“Who taught you that language?” The commander asked, and the child peered around his body at the awkward lull in the fight while everyone tried to figure out just what to do in this sort of situation.

“Boost. On accident. Why are you ugly?” The child asked him, directly this time, and Grievous reared back.

“How the Jedi have fallen,” he sneered. “I remember your younglings having manners.”

The bolt came out of nowhere, hitting him right in the shoulder, and there was a tiny, serious face on the other end of the offending blaster. You could hear a pin drop. The last time Grievous had been hit was... what?

“He’s a di’kut and a shabuir,” the child intoned seriously, and the commander started rapidly backpedaling. “And jari’eyc.”

“General, I’m going to---”

“Who let this child onto my ship?” Grievous demanded, and another shot got him right in the leg, which was not supposed to happen.

“Right, enough playing around,” Kenobi decided, and the commander apparently agreed, because the tiny child was simply swept up to his chest and then he was turning and booking it down the hallway as Grievous was actually forced to move for cover, because the child, a child was shooting at him with a stolen blaster, was firing on him over the clone’s shoulder.

“Hold on, I wanna fight him!” The child hollered. “If I hit his face they’ll give him better prosthetics! He’s ugly!”

“Tal’ika, not now!”

Grievous couldn’t agree more. The commander careened around the corner, and there was an awkward pause, and then everyone collectively decided it was time for the firefight to begin again.

They needed to keep their blasted children to their damned selves.

#shrooms is writing #red fox comes running #realityhoudini #if you don't think Tal'ika would smuggle themselves onto Obi-Wan's ship #and pick a fight with Grievous #you're wrong #tiny!tal'ika

13 notes · View notes

soundwavefucker69 · 4 years

Note

Baby Tal'ika: cuddles with Fox

☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

Let’s do this

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

The Jedi had, in fact, pulled away from Coruscant, and taken basically the entire GAR with them. Fox was pretty sure no one had expected that from them. He certainly hadn’t. The idea of the Jedi not being on Coruscant felt practically sacrilegious. But, here they were, on an uninhabited planet in the Inner Rim, building their own temple around a Force Nexus point, whatever that meant. Alderaan and Naboo had gone above and beyond to lend a hand to the Jedi, but everyone had been actually shocked at how self sufficient the Jedi actually were with their Service Corps. The AgriCorps alone were beasts, literally building the temple out of forcing literal trees and plants to grow in some strange way to form proper insulation and structure.

The temple finally had its living quarters, including the creche, built. For the past several months, Fox had been enjoying Tal’ika living in his hastily constructed home. Obi-Wan had been preoccupied with darting around the galaxy putting out fires, and while Fox, as a Commander, could have definitely been useful out there... He had a few months with Tal’ika in comparison to years spent with other people raising them.

Mace had assured him that he would still see them, and see them a lot. Jedi were partially rearranging their protocols regarding family separation, mainly because now that they were far removed from politics, there was a little more leeway in worries about outside influences. Jedi Initiates in the creche could have familial contact, instead of working up to contact once they were padawans. And, well, Fox was going to be working with the Jedi. A lot. Probably more than he should, but he was a workaholic, and it was probably a problem, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

In any case, tomorrow they would start moving the little ones into the creche, and Fox was going to have his hands full getting all of the cadets and babies from Kamino settled in the ‘barracks’, because they were going to start getting shipped in in the next week. The logistics was going to be a nightmare. And Tal’ika was going to be gone, off in the creche with the other Jedi babies, and he was no longer going to be waking up with a warm weight in his bed that should be in their own damned bed. He wasn’t going to be making breakfast for two, wasn’t going to be helping them with their education modules, wasn’t going to be coordinating childcare with the crechemasters and other clones that had volunteered to help keep the Initiates in line until they could keep them all contained. He wasn’t going to be hounding them to make sure they brushed their teeth, or struggling over the braids he had learned to make, or having running conversations in a mix-up of Basic and Mando’a with a kid who still couldn’t reach the floor with their socked feet when they sat at the kitchen table. He wasn’t going to be carting them off to work, wasn’t going to be wrangling them to eat their vegetables, wasn’t going to be blatantly ignoring their abuse of the Force because it was the Jedi’s job to get after them for having fun, not him.

Tal’ika probably wouldn’t be moved in until the end of the week, but it was still hurting. The loss. He had really gotten attached, but he also had to be incredibly honest with himself. The constant stream of the chip being activated in his brain had fucked him up on several levels. He was trying his best. He really was. But memories of what he had been forced to forget were slowly and steadily filtering back in, and he wasn’t handling it well. He was keeping it together as best as he could, for Tal’ika, because he only had a few months with them before they went to people that didn’t need to see a mind healer on a daily basis for the foreseeable future, but Fox was also well aware that he was in no position to raise a child. He still had nightmares of control being ripped away, watching his body murder his own child with no way to stop it. An unwilling spectator to hell. A failure of a father.

No, he needed to work this shit out away from Tal’ika, because his kid was a goddamn empath and could tell sometimes he was terrified of them, and that just wasn’t healthy for them. Or him. He wanted to be selfish and raise them on his own, away from the Jedi and a life of monastic servitude, but they wanted it. They craved being a Jedi like a Quarren craved the sea. He couldn’t just make the decision for them, and he had to admit that the structure of being a Jedi was probably for the best for a child that had been genetically engineered to be slightly unhinged.

He wasn’t enough for them, and it kind of stung. Not enough a sting to not be happy that he was giving them the best possible chance in life while still getting to be their buir, but it stung. Obi-Wan was going to be getting back from mop-up operations on Toydaria tomorrow, and they were going to be spending time together with Cody, and Fox’s time alone with Tal’ika was coming to an end. Tal’ika, the perceptive little thing that they were, knew he was getting worked up. He’d cooked their favorite meal, a flatbread kind of dish piled high with trash like cheese and cured meats and sauce, and bullied them to go take a damned shower, because they had taken a tumble off a hill today and were utterly drenched in dirt and leaves, and a change of clothes had done the bare minimum to spare his little house. He was going to have to clean. Now, while they were washing off in the fresher, he was alone with his spiraling thoughts and dishes, up to his elbows in the water as he scrubbed the excess that had built up over the day.

Soft feet padded down the hallway, and he scowled at the bit of lunch that was stuck on the pot, refusing to budge under his scrubbing. Tiny hands wrapped around his waist, and Fox froze as a little head thunked right in the middle of his back, wet hair pressing into his shirt as Tal’ika ground their face into his back.

“What’s up?” He asked, and their arms tightened around him.

“You’re upset,” they mumbled, and Fox swallowed.

“You’d be pretty upset if you were scrubbing this pot.”

“Then let it soak,” they grumbled, and he dried his hands, peeled his arms off from around his waist as he turned around. Undettered, they smacked their face right into his gut and clung to his stomach.

Ah. It wasn’t the empathy. They were upset, too.

With a sigh, he bent down to pick them up and carry them into the living room, flopping down on the couch and nabbing the blanket thrown over the arm. Without another word, they curled up in his lap, and he lifted and maneuvered them around so he could wrap them in the blanket.

“Did you brush your hair?” He asked, already knowing the answer, because the brush was sitting on the end table where he left it last night.

“No,” they mumbled, sounding utterly miserable, and he shifted them around so they were between his thighs. The brush was gathered up, and he started to work through their damp hair.

“You know you’ll still see a lot of me,” he reminded them, and they let out a huff of air.

“I know.” They didn’t sound convinced.

“You won’t be able to get rid of me,” he promised, though that wasn’t strictly true. They would be able to get rid of him, very easily, because as soon as everyone got everything functioning, he’d be fulfilling his duties as Minister of Education, which meant that he was going to be busy. Extremely busy. At least he wasn’t going to be Senator. They had offered him the position and he had looked Cody dead in the eyes and informed him if they let him into the Senate chamber without the threat of decommissioning looming over his head, there were at least fifty Senators that weren’t going to be making it out alive.

Rizz was going to be Senator. Fox thought they were the superior choice, personally. The Senate wasn’t going to know what hit them. One look of disappointment from Rizz would leave a shiny in tears, so it was probably going to be very effective in the Senate.

But.... Even so.

Tal’ika was glaring at the wall, which was basically just their way of showing that they were sad, and he sighed, leaning forward to press his forehead to the back of their head.

“We agreed on this, remember?” He murmured, his hands stilling, and Tal’ika tugged the blanket a little tighter around their shoulders.

“I know,” they muttered, but they didn’t sound happy about it. Was this what it felt like to send off your kid to boarding school?

“C’mere,” he said, deeming their hair appropriately brushed, and shifted them around so they were sitting more firmly against him. Tal’ika curled into his warmth, huffy and upset, and he leaned over to flick on their favorite holofilm.

“I think we can ignore your bedtime tonight. Obi-Wan isn’t here to get mad, is he?” He murmured, and Tal’ika snorted before wriggling around so they could watch the irritating holofilm he had memorized at this point.

“Obi-Wan doesn’t get mad. He gets disappointed,” they mumbled, and he snorted as he wrapped them up tight with as much love as he could put into his embrace.

“That he does,” he agreed smoothly. “That he does.”

Tal’ika’s attention flicked back to the holofilm, and Fox resigned himself to dramatic collapses on fainting couches and high end Core accents and ridiculous hairdos and pointless gestures to offset the jewelry dripping from their fingers from actresses having the time of their lives being as dramatic as they could. Why they loved these weird glam murder mysteries was beyond him, but at least it wasn’t a musical.

Tal’ika mouthed along to the lines they had memorized, and slowly and steadily, they started to relax in his grip. By the time they got to the torrid and helpless kiss in the rain that Fox knew for a fact was ruining the fur stole and silks the titular actress was wrapped in, they were a useless lump in his lap, and his mind was drifting back to the dishes abandoned in the sink. He still needed to finish them, but...

Something wet and slimy hit his neck, and his eyes locked on the wall as he realized they were definitely asleep and definitely drooling on him.

Well. Maybe a little longer. He knew as well as any clone that if he blinked, they’d be too big to do this again.

Just a little longer.

#realityhoudini #red fox comes running #shrooms is writing #tiny!tal'ika

13 notes · View notes