awolJedi is the clone babies going to come out of the pods soon? It sounded like they were soon ready

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Sitting up sharply in bed, Obi-Wan stared blankly at the wall for several seconds before throwing the covers of himself and sliding his feet into his slippers, hurrying out of his temporary bedroom by touch alone.

In the darkness, he fumbled for his robe on the hook by the doorway, throwing it on as he made his way through the halls.

On the way, an anxious Anakin appeared from his temporary room, looking just as sleep disheveled as Obi-Wan felt, the blond looking at him with wide eyes as he scratched nervously at his bare stomach.

The other had clearly not thought to throw on a robe like Obi-Wan had but had at least put on slippers and together, the two made their way to the Halls of healing, the insistent tugging of the Force pulling them along.

The Halls, due to the likelihood of injuries being high during the initial construction, had been one of the first places on the schedule to be built of the temple, along with temporary shelters, the creche, kitchens and of course the archives.

The temporary shelters, creche and halls had been the highest priority though and still bore signs of a rush job that Obi-Wan knew that would be worked on better now that things were settling.

But that was not why he and Anakin were in the Halls.

Because they could feel them, a tugging in their very souls and likely something the kaminoans had thought of when they cloned the Jedi.

The children were ready.

The clones of him and Anakin.

And Yoda, as when they arrived, the old man was already there, leaning on his cane as he stared into the Halls with an unfamiliar senior healer at his side and Master Che. When Anakin and he arrived, all three gave them looks of realization before Che started barking more orders. “All three of yours in the same night?” She finally turned back to them, cursing slightly. “This wasn’t going to be easy just with one of you.” She complained, huffing loudly before sighing and gesturing to her side for the unfamiliar healer at her side, causing the yellow zabrak to step forward.

“I’m healer Zora, they and them,” The zabrak smiled at them before lifting a pad to show them the readouts of the clones pods. “I’ve been in charge of the tubes for a while now, researching them and ensuring things proceed as they should. They’re all healthy,” They reassured at Anakin’s face turning slightly alarmed. “We just don’t… we’re not certain what to expect, with the children all being Force sensitive. Cloned Force sensitive are… difficult.” They finished with.

Now that, was an understatement if Obi-Wan knew something.

Scientists, both scrupulous and unscrupulous, had for decades tried to figure out Force sensitivity, simply cloning a Force sensitive didn’t always track and some of the experiments he knew had happened had actually leveled entire research facilities.

Maybe that’s why the Force has them there, maybe the clones know them in some way. Because as the tubes get drained, the babies in them simply squirm and wiggle, cry out with strong lungs that makes Obi-Wan’s breath hitch in return, Anakin shift forward and Yoda straighten from where he’s leaning on his cane.

Carefully, each of the bright little lights are placed into the arm of a waiting padawan healer, carefully cleaned and swaddled and when there aren’t enough, Obi-Wan steps forward and takes one of the babies that has been made of him, blinking down at eyes as green as his own.

“…Hello there, welcome to the galaxy little one.” He whispered, smiling slightly as the child squirmed in his arms.

For a moment, he couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel if this baby had darker skin and green eyes, for a moment he wondered how Cody would have felt to be here with him.

Then he put that thought aside, grateful his beard hid the evidence of his blush as he moved to hand the child over to healer Zora for a weighing and measuring, the baby whimpering at the loss of Obi-Wan’s body warmth.

YoungAndFresh:  Boba and Din are going to get antsy and spar, terrifying Jango, because he didn’t teach Boba half of those moves!  And impressing everyone else, because they didn’t think a child Din’s age could pull off that particular throw.  And Obi-Wan is trying to find out why the clones would turn on the jedi.

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The training hall was full of troopers today, more than usual, chock full of troopers and even a few of the trainers that seemed to be milling around more than working out and sparring.

But there was a very good reason for that, for one, Jango Fett was in attendance with his son, two, there was a karking Jedi and three… the two impossible children were there.

And he and Boba were sparring.

The moment that missive had hissed through the clone troopers ranks, many had made their way to the training hall in question, a few with recording equipment for those that couldn’t come see, either if they wanted to see the Jedi, the impossible kids or Boba actually fighting.

As far as any of them could remember, Boba had never sparred in public with the rest of them, Jango Fett seemingly preferring to keep his son apart from them and training in a private place.

After all, he was ‘special’ compared to them.

The one that got picked.

The one unaltered.

If there was some resentment and jealousy attached to that… well, they knew better than to voice it.

Still, looking at the two little shapes, the impossible human kid already wearing a helmet and basic cadet armor while Boba had yet to put on his helmet, no one could say they weren’t a tad excited to see what might happen.

“You ready Din’ika?” Boba questioned, cracking his knuckles easily with a grin on his face as he faced down his opponent on the other side. The boy had leaned a training staff against his side and once he was finished cracking his fists, he grabbed it, smirking happily.

He got a head cocked in answer from this ‘Din’ika’, a few of them wondering what the others name was, before the little one raised the staff, the way the other held the staff showing he was familiar with a staff. “You don’t have bulk anymore.” Came a soft, modulated voice.

“And you don’t have the height but I know how to fight you Din.” Boba shot back as he put the cadet helmet on, no longer looking so unique compared to everyone else.

The Prime giving a small sigh as he gently hoisted the other impossible child a tad higher, the little one babbling happily as he watched the other kids while the Jedi tilted his head to watch them.

Ignoring the confusing sentences, clones started quietly making bets between themselves, betting everything from favors, extra rations or whatever they thought would make a good trade.

For a moment, the two kids eyed each, two little predators watching, waiting… and then Boba moved, quick on his feet as he lashed out first, closing the distance and swiping down at the other’s legs with his own.

Din, because that had to be the name of the other boy, jumped, using the staff to as support to swing himself to the side quickly before he as quick as an ocean viper raised the staff to slam it down in a graceful arc.

Equally fast, Boba bought up his staff, blocking the hit but grunted as the force of it had his knees buckling slightly as he adjusted his grip on his staff.

“Must have underestimated the force of it.” CC-2224 whispered as quietly as he could to CC-3636. They had no way of knowing that it wasn’t the force of it Boba had underestimated, but the strength of his own body.

Din hadn’t been joking in reminding Boba he didn’t have the bulk to tank it out as he had before when they sparred and it was showing.

But to those unfamiliar with the boys and the situation, the two still came of impressive as the two lashed out, clearly getting more comfortable the longer they sparred.

While they were both lithe little things, it was clear that while Din seemed to prefer to use his fancy footwork and quick moves to either wear down his opponent or end a fight before it began, Boba used his strength and bulk to take on the other.

Which might have been more effective if the other had more bulk but quite a few of the trainers and the more advanced clones, especially the Nulls and Alphas, could tell that with time, if he trained the right way, Boba could become one hell of a tank fighter, heavy muscles and tight weight would do it.

Especially coupled with a proper armor.

Din on the other hand was speed and grace, where Boba seemed like he thought he could run through boulders and smash helmets with his staff as one particular vicious swing seemed to indicate, Din was more inclined towards endurance, wear down his prey and take them out when their strength waned. He dodged and waved, jabbed out with the staff to hit critical points and created openings to tire Boba out.

Finally though, Boba showed that between the two, he still had the superior strength, so maybe there was something to his tank behavior, when he slammed down his staff so hard in the middle of Din’s own that it broke, leaving Din stumbling back with two halves.

Jango stepped forward, as if to call it of when both threw their weapons as if on mutual agreement to be on even footing and if anyone had watched closely enough, they would have seen the shock bloom in the Prime’s eyes when the younglings started to brawl.

“Huh, would you look at that, didn’t know Bob’ika had it in him.” Alpha-17 whispered, leaning close to Spar, Muzzle nodding on the other side of the clone.

“Vicious little thing.” Muzzle agreed, wincing a tad when Din took a fist to the stomach only to whistle when, outside of bowing slightly in pain with a modulated wheeze, Din didn’t let up and instead pounced forward to drag Boba to the mats.

“Both of them.” Alpha-17 tacked on with slight amusement, mind flashing back to the day before when he had met the two in the hallway, how viciously Boba had been standing in front of the other.

Din had come off as a meek, terrified little thing but now he was anything but, rolling on the mats, grappling with Boba.

Maybe Alpha would offer some training aid to the two, should they take it. Before he wouldn’t have contemplated it but Boba was different now, no longer a scowling but obviously scared thing. The Boba he had seen before wouldn’t have backed down if Alpha talked to him.

Hissing in sympathy as Din suddenly got slammed to the mat and his arm wrenched, Alpha nodded to himself as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Yeah, if he could get the two on hand, he’d ask if they wanted some training aid.

I am still thinking about this SW Mermaid AU thing I did for May 4th and now I’m curious on how you would handle a mermaid au. Would you give everyone a tail based on their lightsaber colors or would you just go colors you think look good to avoid giving Vader a bright red tail?

Posted on av swmoddy

oifaaa:

I’d probably try to go the light saber colours to a certain extent just bc I think mood change tails would be funny but I don’t think it would be vaders that tripped me up more likely it’d be ahsokas as I don’t really use green that often despite it being my favourite colour

Edit: so I tried it and I was right here’s the results

I want to know what’s going on with Dooku in Dangerous Galaxy!

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Fixing his clothes first as he was watched by the room, Cody finally nodded to the trooper on the comm terminal, taking a deep breath as he focused on the platform, watching as Count Dooku came into view.

The man looked… calm, at ease, wearing his normal clothes, standing in a relaxed position with sharp eyes focused on Cody. “Ah, Vod’alor Kote. I must commend you on your… revolution. I did not see this coming,” The man smirked at him, seemingly impressed with what he saw. “Neither did I expect you to present an image fit to rule, your last display left a little to be desired.”

Honestly, if it wasn’t for his men, Cody wouldn’t have dressed up but this was good, even if it had taken Cody a while to get dressed as Tracker and Switch had insisted he couldn’t show to the meeting in just armor.

Something about playing the part as Vod’alor and honestly, Cody got it…but he didn’t have to like it.

So, he had waited until the two showed up with an outfit that didn’t make him look like just a common soldier among all his vode or like he was mimicking the Mandalorians. For all that they were based on one, they didn’t want to be Mandalorians, not anymore.

So, Cody had reluctantly dressed in the tight leather pants with matching black boots so polished they shone along with the tight long sleeved shirt. Thankfully though, there was armor to go with it, black greaves with silver designs and a good chestplate with the same black and silver details artistically painted in swirls and geometric designs and to cap it of, a blood red cape with silver fastenings.

It made him look dangerous, his belt containing obvious blasters and viroblades along with the hidden ones filling in that image.

Raising a brow, grateful the others had insisted he dress well, Cody crossed his arms slowly over his chest. “No, I imagine you didn’t… neither did Palpatine.” He drawled, trying to emulate the way he had seen Obi-Wan act when conversing with an enemy that wanted to negotiate.

Because that was what he suspected the other wanted, to negotiate.

Dooku paused, tilting his head before inclining it slowly. “Then you know.” He stated calmly.

“There was a reason we exposed him working with the CIS, we know.” Cody returned a tad dryly.

Honestly, not even half of Palpatine’s crimes had been aired to the public, if they had, there might have been calls for blood in the street for the Senate for not realizing it. And Cody would rather not have people like Bail and Padme in danger for being fooled by a man like Palpatine.

Letting out a low hum, Dooku stared at him, as if indecisive. “…Will the Jedi order’s service to the Senate continue? Will the clones be taking those services?” The man suddenly asked and if Cody had been holding anything at that moment, it would have gotten thrown at him.

As it was, Cody gritted his teeth so hard there was an audible click and he saw Helix wince on the other side of the room.

Dooku however, only cocked his head. “You must understand, I have to ask… there was after all, many reasons for me to leave the order…and not all of them had with disagreements for the future and the state of the order.” He continued, folding his hands in front of him and lacing his fingers.

Cody took a deep breath through his nose before shaking his head hard. “No. Those will not continue and if any of the Senators are discovered to be requesting them… they will be executed.” He stated sharply.

Dooku’s brows rose in surprise and slight disbelief.

“They have been warned. The Jedi council has been told to relay to all of their members to report any Senators that requests their services,” Cody continued darkly. “This has ended and anyone discovered to try and pressure the Jedi… will meet their end.”

Count Dooku gained an odd look, staring at Cody as if he couldn’t quite understand what was going on. “…Shockingly… I believe you, Vod’alor Kote, it is… good to know,” The man said slowly, a tad dazed sounding and Cody mentally sighed as he was reminded that this man was once part of the Jedi order, would have gone through the same thing Obi-Wan had at some point. Hell, Cody had discovered by looking at records that Palpatine himself had requested Dooku many times prior to his departure. “It also makes my job a tad easier.” The Count continued, oblivious to Cody’s knowledge and thoughts.

Rocking on his heels, Cody frowned slightly. “Your job?” He queried, mentally wishing for a large cup of caff, the kind with frothy blue milk in it and caramel syrup that Obi-Wan had given him on late night report work.

“Several leading members of the CIS wishes to speak with the new leadership of the Republic,” Dooku waved a hand. “They see the chance for more… equitable treatment now than before under new leadership.” He explained steadily, as if he moments before hadn’t been indicating the generational long abuse of the entire Jedi order, himself included.

This should surprise Cody but somehow… it didn’t.

Dooku had always been a calculated man in public from what Cody could tell, so that he could shuttle his emotions… well, it made sense.

But the CIS leadership wanting to talk to Cody… now there was a surprise.

Frowning faintly, he nodded slowly. “I see…” In a way, it made sense, new leadership, new chances after all and the CIS wanted equality for the outer and mid rim planets from the start. Unconsciously, Cody’s hand rose to rub his chin, Dooku watching him with curious eyes as the trooper, the leader in front of him, mimicked the gesture of his grandpadawan. If he had watched Dooku instead of thoughtfully staring slightly down, he would have seen the older man’s lips twitch in a faint smile at the gesture.

“I feel it fair to warn you, Vod’alor,” Dooku suddenly interrupted the others thought process, Cody’s head jerking up to look at him. “Not all wish to, they will continue to fight and Grievous… he listens to no one. He wants to maim and he still wants to bring down Jedi.” Count Dooku stated seroiusly.

Okay, that did not surprise him but… “Why are you informing us?” Cody frowned at him.

Holding out his hands as if in surrender, Count Dooku gracefully shrugged. “To show my sincerity with this offer. I am merely the messenger for the other planets that do wish to speak with you. And Grievous is a lose canon… I worry for what he might do to certain… members of my lineage.” The words were uttered steadily in a cold tone, as if unconcerned.

But Cody got it.

Obi-Wan.

Grievous always tried to murder Obi-Wan and the realization hit deep and hard as he stared at Dooku. “…You do realize that if any of the Senators of the CIS were involved wi-”

“If you think I let them live long,” Cody was interrupted, Dooku’s lips twisting. “Then you’re more foolish than even Skywalker.” He drawled arrogantly, cocking his head.

For a moment, Cody wondered how much of that arrogance was a cover, a protection from the old hurts of the past.

Then he discarded the thought and nodded slowly. “I did notice there was some… missing members.” He smirked.

Cody got a smirk in return, Count Dooku shrugging slightly. “…They shouldn’t have touched the Order.” Was all Dooku said. The unsaid ‘they shouldn’t have touched my linage.’ Was in there somewhere.

To that, Cody had nothing to say. The two leaders of each factions continuing to make arrangement for later discussions, involving the leaders of the planets under the CIS that wished to speak.

Would you consider publishing a frank talk on here too? You can take this as a prompt if you want but I’d like to find it on tumblr too, its actually easier for me to get on tumblr than AO3 due to my family.

Posted on av swmoddy

Setting the systems into autopilot now that their location was set, Boba glanced at Shand in the co-pilot seat, giving her slight head tilt, a signal to make herself scarce.

She gave him a look in return but still got up, heading down the ladder.

With her gone, Boba took a deep but silent breath and turned his chair fully, tilting his back to look up at the still as a statue mando standing behind him, visor locked on the beams of hyperlights outside the cockpit view.

Boba quietly observed him for a moment, mentally cataloging what he could see without the other moving.

Shoulders held high but chin tilted down, arms hanging down his sides but leather covered hands bunched into fists, a slump to his spine…

From the short moments they had interacted, Boba was pretty certain he already had a read on the other man but this could go possibly, horribly wrong. Still, he sat up in his chair, on purpose making more noises than he normally would, just to watch the man twitch, attention drawn away from the view to Boba.

If he wasn’t so used to reading helmets, he wouldn’t have been able to tell the other was looking at him. “You took a few nasty shots back on Tython,” Boba stated, ignoring how the other tensed. “I got a medical case up here. I’m gonna turn this chair around and when I turn back, you’re going to have undressed enough for me to take care of it, ru’suvari?” He tacked on the mando as sternly as he could, watched how the other suddenly grew taunt as a wire threatening to snap.

For a moment, Boba wondered if the other was going to punch him.

Might even have deserved it, Boba was gambling as he kept his face stern, peering up at the beroya.

It worked though, the other went lax, even his hands dropping open as he nodded quietly.

“Jate.” Boba pretended not to see how the other jerked to attention at the mando’a but put it to mind as he turned his chair, staring at the lights streaming outside, waiting.

He heard the soft shifts of the other moving, the clack of his spear being placed to the wall, the light clicks of armor latching being undone and the clear clang of beskar being set down along with soft hisses when the beroya shifted in a way that pained him.

Boba had to clench his hands down on the arms of his chair to avoid turning, taking deep, measured breaths through his nose to keep calm.

As a young man, he hadn’t been soft, hadn’t been kind.

Compassionate.

The galaxy had made him a hard man, the death of his father and his stint in prison and later on working for the Imperials and Vader in particular had sealed the deal on that hardness. It was what had allowed him to survive as long as he had.

Even when he had broken out of the prison and wiped the terminal for his record, when he had found the deep voice of Mace Windu on his folder, advocating for Boba, advocating for the child to be sent rehabilitation at a youth facility, advocating for leniency.

It had been denied.

The Jedi had tried to advocate for Boba, only to be denied.

It was such a strange thought and Boba had remembered just standing there, staring at the screen for a long few moments before finally wiping every trace of Boba Fett from the Republic’s systems.

Don’t get him wrong, he still hated Mace Windu with a passion that rivaled suns for the death of his father.

But… hearing an enemy, a man that he had earnestly tried to murder even at a young age, plead for leniency for Boba…

It had struck a cord, a cord he carried with him but buried during the age of the Empire. Sympathizing with Jedi only brought danger at the worst and trouble at the best in those days.

After the sarlacc…

The kindness of the tuskens had been what saved Boba, the Black Krayt clan taking him in and caring for him. Apparently surviving a karking sarlacc earned him respect enough for them to help him and later on him being actually willing to learn from them, not just their language but their ways.

Without them, Boba would have died under the suns of Tatooine.

Escaping the sarlacc had been one thing, the acid and the time inside it leaving him weak, his mind broken and rattled and his body wasted, the suns and the heat would have been another matter.

Boba knew he wasn’t the same person regardless, coming out of there.

Compassion and kindness had saved him, had resonated with that old voice that had tried to give Boba leniency.

It resonated now, with this bounty hunter that had given him back his father’s armor. With this man, who had lost his Force sensitive son, who had been ready to fight and defend the armor only to give it back when proof of its ownership had been shown.

And even more so, the other man was a mandalorian.

Something old and almost forgotten by Boba, something associated with his father, shiny beskar so bright and noticeable that Boba had no choice but to remember his buir and the words the man had taught him.

Had the other had blue on his armor with the silver, Boba might have had a small heart attack.

“You can look.” The gravelly, modulated voice came.

Boba turned his chair and couldn’t help the hiss of sympathy that escaped between his teeth as he got a good look, the other having removed his chest piece, pauldrons and cape, his upper kute opened and pulled down, the arms and chest hanging down the back of his arse and legs.

The mandalorian was covered in dark red bruises, the edges already turning purple and some of blaster shots had hit hard enough for there to be bloody edges. They looked vicious and Boba got to his feet, his spurs making a methodical sound on the durasteel as he moved around the other man, quietly cursing himself as he had to stand on his toes to get to the medical pack in the upper cabinet. ‘I’m moving this kark to the bottom.’ He thought with annoyance.

If he was injured himself, reaching for this kark would be a bitch and a half.

He glanced back to the man, finding that the other bounty hunter had turned with him, keeping him in view. Most likely unwilling to give Boba his back just yet.

‘Tough shit, he’s gonna have to at some point.’ Boba snarked internally.

He knew the other had taken a few hits to the back. “Sit. It will make things easier on both of us.” He motioned to the pilot seat, watching as the other sat down gingerly after a moment of hesitation.

Boba didn’t take it personally.

Clearly, this man was used to being hunted, vigilant and untrusting of those around him.

Not a healthy way of living.

Cracking open the case, Boba stationed it on the ledge of the dashboard so he could rifle through it easier as he removed his gloves first.

Then he bought out the cleaning antibacterial wipes, a bacta tube and the bruising cream.

Quietly he set to work, ignoring how the other was pressing back into seat, the tense muscles trembling under his fingers as he worked. ‘Touch starvation…’ Boba mused, even as he tried to ignore it.

What he couldn’t ignore was how slim the other really was under the armor, the cauterized scars he could see, the trim waist…

Hell, whoever called this man for cyare was a lucky shabuir.

A snatched waist like that, coupled with the muscles that proved his profession and proved him as an ambush predator more than a power tank… well, it was something Boba would have pursued doggedly back at Jabba’s palace.

Someone to blow the stress and pressure away with.

Made him curious about what was under the helmet if he was very honest.

But right now, Boba mind was on providing relief for a lost man, a man that hadn’t asked for help.

Maybe the other didn’t expect aid, maybe he was so used to the galaxy turning on him that he didn’t think any would be offered without a price.

It was a depressing thought for someone as honorable as this man and Boba couldn’t help but let his fingers linger on the edge of a pink cauterized scar with rich dark skin around it, wondering mentally about it.

Self punishment or lack of bacta?

As reckless as this man had behaved, flying into the mouth of a damn krayt dragon, letting the shots of blasters hit him…

Boba would guess the latter unfortunately. “…Risking yourself needlessly is a dangerous business,” He stated quietly, feeling the man tense up. “Your foundling needs you, leaving him without anyone if you were to march ahead of him.” He stated intently.

The other said nothing for long minutes as Boba put bacta then bruise cream to injured areas. “…I know…I just…” The other tilted his head back against the pilot chair, looking at the ceiling. It gave Boba the curious view of a long line of throat with dark stubble, the bobbing of an adam’s apple as the other man swallowed.

Boba continued working as the other continued staring at the ceiling. “I won’t tell you to stop. But for the future, when we get him back,” When, not if and Boba could feel the other stare at him at the choice of words, at the coinfidence in them. Boba just couldn’t imagine this man doing anything but succeeding. “You will need to be more careful beroya.” Boba reached for the gauze in the case.

“…Djarin,” He almost dropped the gauze, head snapping back to the other bounty hunter, his own body tense. The other cleared his throat slightly, almost nervous like, his hands tapping at the arms of the seat. “My name, its… Djarin.”

Staring at the other, understanding what he was given as the other was a Child of the Watch, Boba slowly nodded. “Su cuy’gar Djarin, ni cuy’ Fett.” He stated quietly, watching as Djarin slowly relaxed his hands on the arms of the seat.

Carefully, telegraphing his movements, he reached up to take the others shoulder, pulling Djarin forward slowly. “…I’m going to take a look at your back now, check if it needs salve to. Tayli’bac?” Boba stated softly, waiting until he got a small nod.

With that permission, granted easier than he thought possible, Boba moved until he was beside the chair, looking down at the dark expanse of the other’s back, breath catching at the display of muscles.

He was damn lucky the other couldn’t see his face right now.

There were bruises there, not as many or as dark as the ones in the front though.

It seemed Djarin’s chest had taken most of the punishment.

Nodding to himself, Boba moved to in front of him again and bent slightly down, carefully wrapping the gauze around the other bounty hunters chest and the top of his stomach, to prevent the salve and bacta from smearing everywhere.

This also brought him closer to the other, his breath washing over Djarin’s bare shoulder as he worked.

He noted goosebumps rising as he worked, the others hands once more digging into the arms of the chair.

Touch starvation could be a hell of a thing unfortunately.

Boba had to fight the urge to linger, instead straightening and patting the other lightly on the shoulder. “Jate, that should be better. Got some analgesic patch you could use.” He stated quietly.

Djarin slowly got this feet, hesitated then nodded, accepting a patch that he put on himself, Boba watching the other apply it to his upper arm.

Maybe after the child was rescued, maybe something could be done about that touch starvation.

Maybe.

Translations
Ru’suvari = Understood

Jate = Good

Buir = Parent

Beroya = Bounty hunter

Cyare = beloved

Shabuir = jerk but stronger, potentially asshole

Su cuy’gar = Hello, literally means *You’re still alive.*

Ni cuy’ Fett = I am Fett

Tayli’bac? = Okay= Understand? (can be very aggressive)

Bilde | Posted on av swmoddy

kibblestrazzel:

“Very Generous”

You know when babies come up to you and gift you things, and you don’t know what to do? (At least I don’t).

Anyway, Grogu has a collection of pretty rocks/trinkets from all the places he and Din have visited, and he was playing with them on the floor when he decided to give Dad one of the pretty shiny ones. Din is mostly bemused…he doesn’t really get it.