#because JEDI STEAL FUCKING BABIES WITH MIND TRICKS

[eriexplosion]

Entombed, PHEE MY BELOVED.

Omega is having so much fun in the junkyard she finds extreme enrichment in being able to Steal and Scavenge. I love that Omega craves Treasure this season, it's for a sad reason (SHE HAS TO EARN HER RIGHT TO EXIST WITH HER FAMILY RIGHT?) but it's also delightful to watch. LET SMALL GIRLS STEAL ALL THEY WANT, IT'S IMPORTANT TO THEIR PSYCHE.

Bolo and Ketch at Phee's storytime is so cute

Tech you would only know the story changes every time if you were listening every time she told it (and remembering the details) you know you like storytime.

God Hunter has reached maximum tired dad in this episode like legitimately the most exhausted I have ever seen him. His completely tired voice on 'Those two will believe anything.' Tired glances exchanged with Echo. This face.

We have a bit to go before he gets to that face but I am fucking entranced by it. Haunted by it. God give him a nap.

Tech and Phee sorting through the garbage haul together. Date Night Ideas for nerds.

MEL-221 is SO cute I love the paint job

Tech absolutely wants to pick Phee's brain for more unknown systems he wants to put them on his map, he MUST put more systems on his map.

Hunter turning around while they're talking though like he senses a disturbance in the force and it's going to make his life more difficult isn't it?

God him doing grouchy knife tricks in the background watching Omega copy Phee like she used to do with him, Hunter is so mad that is HIS little sister and Phee is STEALING HER.

"Who'd wanna hide treasure here?" Echo let's be real, the best place to hide treasure is where no one in their right mind would ever want to go. It just makes sense. Their distaste for how much this place sucks is great though, Echo has two sides: One wants to be doing more to fight the Empire, the other wants to find a nice sunny spot and drink a margarita already. Notably NEITHER of those sides wants to be on Suck Planet looking for Supposed Treasure.

CUTLASS CUTLASS CUTLASS

"If I'm right, which is always~" I love her so much.

Also her dramatically like THIS IS THE ENTRANCE TO SKARA NAL! And Echo is just. The WHAT? Genuinely one of my favorite things is when someone says something and Echo's entire reaction is "What the FUCK are you TALKING ABOUT?"

Phee you need to be aware when discussing 'the ancients' that everyone besides you in this room is less than 12 years old and their entire culture began that long ago too, they have very little reference for ancient anything.

Omega <3 BABY GIRL IS SO SMART also I love laying the compass on Phee's lantern to make it a projector that is so good

Hunter sensing the creature coming before it growls, I always love to see some of his enhanced senses at play. AND WHY IS IT ALWAYS WRECKER ABOUT TO GET EATEN, WHAT ABOUT HIM IS SO IMMENSELY SNACKABLE?

"You're just making this up as you go" hush Hunter that is your entire MO and you know it.

"So we have to navigate this death trap without it?" "Good thing you have me :D" *HUNTER GIVES THE LONGEST SIGH AND DRAWS HIS GUN FOR NO REASON JUST TO EMPHASIZE HOW UNCOMFORTABLE HE IS*

I love the door opening with the SPINNING as it slides

Heart of the Mountain is so pretty I want it as a rock candy

I've noticed when they need someone to fall while they're dangling precariously it's always Echo that goes first, life is hard when you have one hand capable of gripping.

The interior when the... it looks like a tomb guardian from Jedi Fallen Order iirc... activates looks so good.

Phee protectively clinging to the Heart of the Mountain, she doesn't WANNA give it up! Fair, Phee.

Hunter saving her last minute is such a good moment too, honestly this is a fun episode and yet another one I can't understand why people hated it sooooo much. This fandom lacks joy sometimes.

Let me tell you this thing approaching the Marauder is still stressful despite knowing nothing happens to it because of my intense belief that the marauder is NOT making it out of this show in one piece.

Them all being in this thing as it randomly self destructs is a lot, WHY DOES IT DO THAT WHEN YOU PUT THE THING BACK IN

"This puts as at 0 for 2 in treasure hunting"

MEL being blown up so much that Phee keeps a backup of her on the ship is a great detail.

#the bad batch rewatch

[accursedkaleeshi]

Hypothetical for funsies: Was cyborg Grievous still susceptible in any way to baby??

First of all, what did Grievous consider baby. Anybody that looked like Skywalker or younger was baby.

Would Grievous respond to baby Kaleesh distress peeps? Yeah, his primal hind brain would stop him mid action. Once the rest of his brain caught up & realized that was probably impossible (and/or an auditory hallucination) he would go right back to killing things. You could only use that trick once. But goddamn would it be funny.

Did Grievous have problems trying to kill people that were very obviously children, like Ahsoka & younglings? Obviously not. Because Dooku told him everything about Jedi, he knew padawans would accompany many masters in the field. If they were on the field of battle presenting themselves as warriors then they were treated as warriors & deserved to die as such.

He actually high-key hated that. But HE was not the one sending literal children onto the field of battle against a million droids with guns. The fact that there were a lot of padawan braids in his collection on Vassek (that episode jedi broke into his house lol) meant he caught them in the field directly interfering & he was just like

A few more paragraphs reflecting on Grievous murdering children under the cut lol. With what I think the limits to that would be at the end.

Would he go out of his way to kill younglings? No. Would he kill them in a state of surrender? No. He would only kill them if they were being too much of a liability or they attempted to fight him. That thing in his Dark Horse comic run was super dark (turning the younglings into cyborgs) but that's bc he's a dramatic bitch & liked the idea of jedi suffering as he suffered. Suffering is literally his whole character. I don't think he even cared that it would get Dooku off his back, that was just a bonus. Those younglings became a liability & he was ready to fuckin drop kick them into minecraft lava but the little jedi read his dumb ass like a book & challenged him to a fight.

That arc in the Clone Wars with the younglings building their lightsabers. I don't know if he would have necessarily straight beheaded a baby wookie in order to get his lightsaber but he would not have been above stepping on them to take it lol. Ahsoka was there to save them & Ahsoka was a higher level threat. Tbh I don't remember what Grievous was even doing there besides being a maniac & a Saturday morning cartoon villain.

This got kind of heavy for funsies. So what I think wouldn't be an unreasonable line he would have problems crossing would be that arc where Dooku was stealing babies. Thankfully being a giant robot w tuberculosis gets you out of the shadiest stealth missions. But I think he would have a real problem physically stealing infants from the arms of their mothers. Probably the only thing to even remotely come close to touching his dead emotions would be infants.

Mind you, I'm talking directly. Grievous has killed countless people in attacks, orbital bombardments, orders, & indirectly with zero fucks given. But like, if you tried to fight him with an actual baby in your arms I don't think he would do it. Or he would at least hesitate. The way he sees it, if a child has been put in a situation where he is a direct threat to it that is completely the fault of whomsoever facilitated it & the blood is on their hands.

Imagined Ahsoka hitting Obi-wan up with "Master Kenobi, I think you can use babies as shields against General Grievous." & Kenobi is just like "Ahsoka, what the hell???" & Anakin was immediately all in like, "Okay but do they have to be cute babies?"

#accursed!grievous

[padfootagain]

Always With You, Always With Me

This new Clone Wars trailer got me so fucked up, I had to write something for my precious baby Ahsoka!! So here we go for my first piece for her!

This is 100% of the fluffiest fluff, I am making my own heart melt with this.

Gif not mine

Word Count : 2069

It was the same and yet it was completely different.

Same pain. Same violence. Same blood spilled.

Different war.

You remembered the Clone Wars well enough, you were a teenager then. Some had called what had followed as a "new peace", but it wasn't. It was the war changing its shape to better linger on.

There was a lot that you had lost since the beginning of the Clone Wars. Actually, there was little you had left at all. But if there was one thing in this messed up galaxy that you wanted to protect and keep, it was the woman lying by your side.

When you met and discovered who Ahsoka was, your first thought was that a former jedi was the last thing you needed. Stars, how you had changed your mind in just a couple of years…

Ever since you had lost your family, you had promised yourself that you wouldn't get attached to anyone again. Love was too much risk to take during a war. And then, Ahsoka had stumbled into your life: an exhausted, out of breath, wounded woman all wrapped in a long blooded cloak. Helping her back to health was the best terrible decision you had ever taken in your life.

Outside, the rising sun painted the tired ruins of Yavin IV with gold. Most in the base were already wide awake. You had signed up long ago as a pilot for the rebellion, and Ahsoka had always been tracking down Sith Lords and fighting for the light, although, most of the time she came to Yavin, it was to see you. She was visiting you here now and then, while she wasn't travelling through the galaxy herself for some obscure reason she always kept hidden from you. Stealing a few moments together whenever you both could was all you could ask for. And as you looked at her sleeping under the golden sun, you were grateful for this moment you shared.

Deep down, you knew it would be a lot to ask to the Force to get another morning like this one. Still, you made the prayer.

Sounds of voices reached you, coming from the corridor. You checked the time: two hours left before your meeting to brief you on your next mission. Two hours left, you wished there could be an infinity instead. Ahsoka seemed to finally wake up by your side. She stretched, very much like a grumpy Loth-cat would have, and the thought brought a tender smile to your lips.

She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but her hand travelled across the bed nonetheless, looking for you through the sheets. Your smile widened at the sight, and you took her hand.

She smiled, turning on her side to face you, her eyelids still closed. You snuggled across the bed closer, until you could kiss her sleepy eyes.

"Morning, beautiful," you whispered, your voice a little raspy with fatigue.

"Hmm… mornin'," she mumbled back, playing with your fingers and moving her body to press against yours, skin against skin.

"Slept well?"

She chuckled.

"Don't recall there was that much rest involved."

It was your time to laugh, but you couldn't deny it, she spoke the truth.

There was still noise coming from the corridor, but you blocked it away from your mind. You had two hours left with her, you didn't intend to waste a single thought on the outside world.

You raised your hand to caress the white forms drawn across her features, and she wrapped her arm around your waist to pull you even closer. She smiled as your fingertips travelled across her forehead and then her cheek. The sunlight made the white areas of her skin golden, like the sky, her eyelashes catching yellow droplets too. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful like this, bathed with dawn.

"So… are you gonna keep your eyes closed all morning then?" you teased, and were not disappointed by her cheeky grin.

"Maybe," she teased.

"That's very cruel of you. What if I want to see your eyes?"

"I guess you'll have to convince me to open them."

"I could carry out a very violent tickle attack. That could do the trick."

She chuckled, her fingertips tracing circular patterns on the small of your back, delicate caresses that made you forget all your scars and all your pain and healed every inch of your broken soul.

"You wouldn't dare. You know how terrible my counter-attack would be."

"I'm reckless, haven't you established that by watching me fly yet?"

"Oh, I know you're reckless, flygirl."

"And you're unable to follow orders."

"Hey! Only unfair ones!"

You both burst out laughing.

"But I think that a kiss would be convincing enough, no need to threaten me with your terrifying tickles," she said mockingly, and if you hadn't loved her that much, you would have been annoyed by that smug tone. But then, you did love her that much, so instead, you complied and kissed her lips.

Which… turned out to be a little more than only one kiss, and more to be a lot of kisses. But then, it was to be expected with the two of you.

Over the kisses, you shifted position and as you finally pulled apart, Ahsoka rested her head against your heart, and listened to its steady rhythm.

Life. Beating. Pulsing. Strength, energy, existence bursting through your veins thanks to this tiny piece of muscle that she was listening to and was all hers. She could feel the force flooding through you, she had always felt it steady and peaceful around your frame. Some used to say, when she was a padawan, a lifetime ago, that the force surrounding a person could show the deepest part of their soul. She was not surprised to find out that yours was full of light.

You remained like this, cuddling, for a while, merely enjoying being together as minutes flew by. But eventually, you had to break the soothing silence that had settled in.

"When are you leaving?" you asked in a whisper.

"Probably when you leave for your own mission."

"Where to?"

"The stars."

That was always her response. The stars. In the end, you knew it would be to do something against the Empire, more or less. You didn't know what, you didn't where. It didn't matter. She just couldn't tell you.

She couldn't tell you how fast she was running. She couldn’t tell you what her former Master, this man she trusted, and loved, and admired, had become. She couldn't tell you that she felt like it was partly her fault, that for countless nights she had stared into the shadows of her room and wondered what would have happened to Anakin if she had remained in the Order as his padawan. She couldn't tell you she was running from her past just as much as she tried to repair whatever she could because she felt like it was her who had destroyed it all. She had always felt like it was her fault, maybe because she was one of the few jedi still alive, at first at least. But then she learned about Anakin, and the guilt gnawed at her soul with renewed strength. You knew the truth though, you knew who Vader really was, under that mask and buried beyond all that hatred. You were the one to pick up Ahsoka's pieces and put them back together when she had learnt the truth during that duel. Nevertheless, she had never mentioned it again, and didn't intend to. You were the bright side of her life, she longed to let her demons behind thanks to you. Just like you hoped that by loving her, you would escape these ghosts that followed your every thoughts.

But then, you were there. Bright as a sun, tough as kyber. A strange combination of love and rage. You longed for peace, and wanted revenge. You were not afraid to admit the two sides of your soul. Maybe it was what had attracted her to you so much at first. How fiercely you wanted to destroy the Empire, to avenge all those you had lost, but also to save the ones who remained. You were fierce, just like her. A bright woman too selfless for her own good. Throughout these past couple of years though, you had been more than that to her: you were her home.

She couldn't stay for long. She was too afraid Vader would find a way to trace her back to you, and she would never forgive herself if anything happened to you because of her. She couldn't imagine how to live without you now… But still, she loved you too much to stay away forever, she needed you like she needed air, you were a part of her flooding through her veins, a constant presence more soothing than the Force itself.

She had been trained to avoid these feelings. She had heard what it was supposed to feel like to love someone so much that one's own self wasn't important anymore, only the other. To love someone so completely that your life depended on this love. She hadn't thought it was true.

And then, she met you. And now, despite the risks, she couldn't live without you.

"I'll come back soon, don't worry," she reassured you. "Just… be careful during your mission, alright?"

"Alright. But you ought to be careful too, yes? Investigating Sith Lords business can't always be easy. And I know you won't tell me anything, but I'm also not an idiot, and I know perfectly that's what you're truly up to."

Your voice was a little shaky. She chuckled.

"Worried are we, Ms. Y/L/N?"

But your expression grew more serious, and she knew you weren't trying to joke when you answered.

"Yes. Very."

She gave you a tender smile, moving up to rest her forehead against yours.

"We made a promise to each other a long time ago, I intend to honour it."

"Me too."

"I'll always come back to you."

"And I'll always come back to you."

Before you could add anything else, she was kissing you, deep and slow and loving, making sure to pour all her feelings for you into that kiss. It was like opening floodgates for love to run free. It was opening the door to let out the deepest secret of one's soul, and it was all love and light and care, and you wanted to cry before so much beauty offered to someone like you.

For years you had been certain that all you were was an orphan, one of billions that the wars had created, a fighter in a larger army, only one expendable pawn set on a game of chess the size of a galaxy. You had never thought your life important, not since you had lost everything. You thought you would end up dying alone, forgotten among the count of victims, and you were fine with it. But then Ahsoka had come, and she looked at you with so much love, and so much pride, and so much care, it was painful the way she made you feel so loved. It was too much for your untrained heart to take, this beating organ in your chest that had known nothing but pain for years wasn't ready to be adored. It still felt like all this love was too much, that it made your heart swell and almost burst, almost break your ribcage with all these feelings, to a point that your lungs didn't have enough room in your chest to let you breathe anymore. Like your life mattered all of a sudden. Because she loved you, and if someone like her could love you, then it had to mean that you were someone special too, after all.

You had thought for years that you weren't meant to be loved. But then, Ahsoka had proven you wrong. You reckoned that the best you could do to thank her, was to love her back just as fully and unconditionally as she loved you. And it was the easiest thing you had ever done.

"We'll always be together, right?" you asked her in a breath.

She ran a hand through your hair, offering you the softest of smiles.

"Yes, Y/N. We will. Even when we're apart, I'm always with you, and you're always with me."

 **************************************************************

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[tatooines-ghosts]

HAPPY 2020s ENDING Y’ALL!!!

Enjoy a little blog-exclusive Shades AU that I affectionately refer to as the No Jedi Allowed AU, feat. everybody’s favorite prequel-era Mandalorian bounty hunter.

Sometime this last summer, while trying to work past writer’s block, I toyed with a little AU idea for funsies, I made a post about it, said I wasn’t going to do anything else with it, and left it at that. Until a month or two ago when, still in the throes of writer’s block, I took that little AU idea and figured “fuck it, I’m not working on the next chapter, but at least it’s writing SOMETHING Shades related” and made a real thing out of it.

This is Part 1. Future parts will come out at some point in the future, I’m thinking about making these a holiday special or something haven’t decided yet. (And really it’s only blog-exclusive because I cannot make a series on AO3 and remain anonymous so...)

Enough rambling. Please read, I hope you all enjoy this look at how things might have gone a little differently if a couple Jedi didn’t end up going all the way out to Tatooine to stick their noses into Hutt business.

Please assume content warnings given on AO3 may apply to this story as well. Also, beware spoilers if you are not fully caught up on the main story.

No Jedi Allowed AU - Part 1

Jango Fett heaved a long sigh as the door closed behind him. He had just finished up a long job for Jabba, one that should have been quick but ended up requiring well over a week of stake outs and reconnaissance, but in the end he got his man, as he always did. Jabba had at least expressed his gratitude suitably, in money and amenities. He had given Jango one of the better guest suites and was probably going to send up one of his better girls for a night of entertainment.

Jango began shedding his armor, considering what he would do with the slave girl. He really didn't have the energy to draw anything out. He hoped it wasn't going to be a new girl, explaining how things work was more effort than he cared to expend. Really he just wanted a shower and to sleep, but he wasn't about to leave his stuff unattended with a stranger on the way.

There was a light rap on the door.

"Enter."

The slave entered pushing a dinner cart. Jango breathed a sigh of relief. "Skywalker, nice to see you again."

She flashed him a small smile. "Been a while, hasn't it, Jango?" She paused just over the threshold and let the door lock behind her. "The usual tonight?"

"Sure." He finished removing his armor and set it aside carefully aside. "Get yourself ready, I'm hitting the shower first."

He stepped into the 'fresher, leaving Skywalker alone. Ten minutes later, he was stepping back out, with the provided robe draped around him. His clothes were a little rank, and the quick rinse he gave them in the shower wasn't enough to really clean them. They'd get a proper wash when he got home.

Skywalker had set up dinner, laying out the food and drink from the cart on the little dining table for him. She was perched at the holotable, flipping through the selection of games. There weren’t many games, as most visitors to a Hutt pleasure den were usually otherwise occupied in their rooms, or wanted to watch porn.

"How's dejarik sound? I'm not feeling anything particularly strenuous tonight."

"Fine." Jango sat down in the free seat. He grabbed the complimentary bottle of liquor and poured himself a healthy glass. He offered Skywalker a drink, but she declined. She did pick at the fruit he offered to share. There was always more food than he could eat, and he knew the slaves didn’t get fed nearly as well as guests.

She made the first move on the dejarik board. "How's Boba?"

They fell into comfortable conversation about Boba, about Skywalker's sister, about the recently finished racing season – Jango congratulated Skywalker on another victorious season. They played a few lackluster games of dejarik. That was a bit unusual, Skywalker was a worthy opponent, and she didn’t usually lose more than once or twice.

He beat her soundly for the fourth time in a row, the board resent, his turn to make the first move, but instead he checked the time. "I think I'm going to turn in. It's late enough."

"Yeah," she agreed distractedly. She fiddled with the edge of the gauzy white shawl wrapped around her. She looked pale, uneasy.

Jango gave her another critical, searching look. Her behavior was odd enough, was she supposed to be spying on him? Bribe him, coerce him, assassinate him? He knew Jabba wasn’t opposed to taking out a troublesome being with some poison served by a pretty face, but Jango hadn’t done anything to offend his second-best employer recently. The Hutt had no reason to want him dead, or otherwise intimidated.

Maybe Skywalker was just having an off day, or dealing with some other problem. He wasn’t going to ask. Wasn’t his business.

Her outfit tonight was white and copper, paper-thin linen wrapped in layers to be made suitably opaque, with copper metal accents to draw the eye and match the heavy collar around her neck. It was one of her softer, looser costumes. Aside from looking pale and anxious, Skywalker looked pretty good, a little softer, better fed. Jabba kept his slaves starved and stick thin, save for a few exceptions for the fetishists. This was a change, but not a poor one. Maybe Skywalker was being treated better after another successful racing season.

He turned off the holotable and stood up to stretch. The bed was looking very comfortable, and he wanted to get out of here early tomorrow morning.

Skywalker didn't move. "Jango, I need your help."

He fell still. This was a first, she had never asked for his help before. He'd taught her a few tricks to defend herself against handsy patrons who hadn't paid for the privilege to touch her. Maybe someone was a little more aggressive than she could handle. But Jabba had enforcers on staff whose job it was to take care of people like that. There wasn't anything else he could do for her. She had nothing to ask him to smuggle of planet, and there probably wasn't anything she knew of that he could bring to her. Which meant she was about to ask him to do something very stupid and probably impossible.

"What is it?"

She turned her wide blue eyes to him, her lower lip was caught between her teeth, and she worried it as she considered her next words. He could read her indecision clear in her face. His heart sank. If she was so afraid to even say the words, it couldn't be anything good.

"I need you to free me and my sister."

Jango actually laughed, a single, dry bark. "You're joking." She wasn't. "You want me to steal you from the Hutts? Never gonna happen. Jabba would kill us both for just considering it."

She didn't seem particularly disappointed with his rejection. She implored, "Please, Jango, you're our only hope for freedom."

"No. No way." Even if he wanted to, Jango wouldn't risk earning Jabba's ire, no matter how much he liked Skywalker.

Yes, he felt sorry for Skywalker and her little sister. Being born slaves was unfortunate, but it was their rotten luck that they ended up being owned by Jabba the Hutt. If anyone touched Jabba's property, or thought they could steal from him, they were dead already. Jango had been hired several times to bring in a bounty on someone who had done exactly that. He was not going to put himself on Jabba's shit list.

"I'm pregnant!" she blurted out. "Please, Jango, I can't let my baby be born a slave too." She shifted her arms, removing the shawl from around her waist, and there was the unmistakable roundness to her belly. "I don't even know if Jabba will let me keep my baby."

Jango sighed heavily. "He let you keep your sister."

"Because I didn't give birth to her, because he needed leverage over me after my mom died." She drew a shaking breath; he could see tears gathering in her frightened eyes. "He hasn't even made up his mind on whether he'll let me have the baby. Any day now he could take them from me if it stops me from being able to serve. He'll cut the baby out of me, he'll kill them. And if I do get to have them, then what? He'll steal them from my arms, or just use them like he uses Shila. Please, Jango, I can't go on like this. I want my baby to live. I want to raise them. I want Shila to grow up and know what freedom is."

Jango didn't move, didn't speak, his eyes stayed on Skywalker. His brain was already picking at the idea; it wouldn't be too difficult to – no! He was not about to ruin his career and risk his life for a pregnant slave girl, it's not like the baby was his. What stake did he have at all in Skywalker's future? None! If he tried helping her and they got caught, Boba would be left fatherless. The boy might never know what became of his father. But Anakin... she was the victim of her circumstances. Her little sister and her unborn baby were innocent of the whole matter. They were just slaves.

It wasn't like Jango was opposed to slavery, it was a lucrative evil for the dark corners of the galaxy, and it kept him paid, fed, and employed. He was a mercenary; he wasn't a saint, or even really a good person. Killing was never personal, it was for the job, but he still had a code of honor. And abandoning Skywalker after she asked for his help, after she had exposed herself to be in such a vulnerable position… that was breaking his code.

Would he be able to live with himself if he left her here to her fate? If Jabba stole her child, would he ever be able to look her in the eye again? And Boba... was this the kind of example he wanted to set for his son? Disregarding the lives of children and babies because he didn’t want to risk his own neck. Shameful. Dishonorable. No true Mandalorian would sacrifice a child’s life for their own comfort.

"Ossik," Jango hissed under his breath, dropping back into his seat. "Okay. Fine. I'll get you out of here."

X

Freeing Skywalker and her little sister was easier than Jango suspected it would have been. Granted it was easy for him to go where he needed in the palace, and nobody looked at him twice. He met Shila Skywalker, the little ad'ika he had heard so much about from her older sister. It was clear they were family, they shared the same face, but where Anakin was fair haired and blue-eyed, Shila was dark haired and brown-eyed. Reportedly she looked like their mother, Shmi, but Jango had never met the woman. Shila was young, only three years old, and she was quiet and shy, and frightened of Jango; a fact that was not helped at all when Jango had to cut the slave chip out of the child's stomach. It was just beneath the skin, and he didn't have to cut deep, so he was able to be very quick about it, but it still had to be done without pain killers.

It hadn’t been pleasant or fun for any involved. Skywalker had to hold the child down, keeping her hand pressed over Shila’s mouth to muffle the screams. But Jango had been the one with the knife. It would probably be some time before the child trusted him.

She flinched away from him with a whimper, hiding her face in her sister’s shoulder when he offered his hand after it and apologized. “Sorry, ad’ika, but you were very brave.”

The elder Skywalker, on the other hand, hardly made a sound when Jango carved out her chip from her shoulder.

With the girls freshly unchipped, Jango smuggled them unseen into his ship and stowed them in a hidden compartment in his cargo hold. It was specially lined to block life signs from most scanners, and certainly anything Jabba had his hands on out here. He left at dawn, nobody looked twice as he had made several comments before about leaving early, and he had never made a habit of staying very long in Jabba's palace in the first place.

Only when he was safely in hyperspace and clear from any Hutt influence did he release his cargo from the hold. Shila had been soothed to sleep by her sister, but Anakin was fully alert and terrified.

"Thank you for doing this," she said gratefully. "Jango, I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you. You saved our lives."

"Don't thank me yet. Just because I got you out of there doesn't mean you're safe. Jabba's not going to like losing you."

"I know." Her hand moved behind Shila, rested against her belly. "But you've given us a chance."

A few hours later there was a small explosion at Jabba's palace. Nobody was injured, and the damage was minimal, but it threw everyone and everything into hysterics. In the chaos, it took time for someone to take count of the slaves, and then they noticed two very valuable slaves were missing. Search parties uncovered the hastily buried tracker chips, coated in dried blood and sand. Jabba's wrath was terrible and he turned the planet of Tatooine upside down looking for Anakin Skywalker.

X

Jango landed Slave I on the storm tossed landing pad, rain drummed against the hull. It was midday, though the rainclouds were so thick it might as well have been midnight. He dropped from the cockpit down to the passenger hold, where Skywalker sat with her sister.

Anakin, he supposed he should get used to calling her by her first name. They were aliit now. Whether she knew it or not, when Anakin had thrown her lot in with him to gain her freedom, Jango had brought her into his tiny clan. There really was no way to get around it. Releasing the Skywalkers into the galaxy to fend for themselves was as good as putting a blaster bolt in the back of their skulls. Jabba would have them back and dead, or worse, by week’s end. There was safety, at least, in a clan, security under the Fett name; even if the clan had doubled it in size overnight.

Shila was sleeping soundly, curled in her sister's arms and lap, but Anakin was alert and worried.

"What's that noise? An attack?"

The rain was so familiar to Jango, he tuned it out automatically. "What? No, that's the rain. Water falling from the sky," he had to clarify. He realized rain probably wasn't a word that ever got thrown around on Tatooine.

Anakin glowered at him. "I know what rain is. My mother told me." Her cheeks went pink. "I just didn't realize it made much noise."

Jango gave her some credit. "It is coming down rather hard out there. Come on. We'll get you inside and into more suitable clothes."

Kamino was cold, and the cloner's kept their facility chilly. Anakin's service costume was not going to cut it. He opened the cargo ramp, a blast of cold, wet air swept in.

He heard a gasp and a yelp behind him, Shila had woken up. Anakin tried to comfort the child in Huttese, but Jango could see her own eyes were wide with fear. This much rain and water had to be a shock. But Jango was hungry, tired, and ready to change into something more comfortable. He didn't want to stand here until the desert natives got used to rain.

"Come on," he said again, taking Anakin by the arm and pulling her forward. They walked quickly from ship to facility door, Jango keeping his grip firm so Anakin didn't slip and fall on the wet walkway, her shoes were less suitable for the slick metal than her clothes were for the climate. By the time they stepped inside, Anakin was shivering. Whether from the cold and wet, or everything else, he wasn't sure but thirty seconds in the downpour had turned her costume downright indecent. The flowy white linen had turned translucent and plastered against her body. It made the curve of her belly even more obvious.

It was a good thing Skywalker was so distracted looking around at everything else to not notice him staring and frowning at her. Well, more accurately, staring at her abdomen. A seed of doubt quickly settled and bloomed in his mind – not the first to grow since he agreed to free the Skywalkers, and he squashed it like the others. Having a baby around soon was going to make things interesting.

He sighed softly and shook his head. That little bastard was going to cause him a lot of trouble, he knew it already. After all, it had been the baby that tipped him over to helping the Skywalkers in the first place and inevitably put him on Jabba’s shit list.

How long would it be until Jabba put a bounty on his head? He couldn't possibly be so lucky as to escape without suspicion.

Jango stepped off down the hall, wondering whether the Skywalkers should be seen by a doctor first or if he should just take them home. When the ad'ika began to complain of the cold and the wet, he bypassed the corridor turn that would lead to the medical wing.

Their apartment had that mild, unlived in scent when he stepped in. Boba would have been left with his Kaminoan caretakers while Jango had been gone for a few weeks.

"Come on. We'll get you dried and change clothes before getting you to a doctor."

"Doctor?"

Jango stepped into the 'fresher and dug out some clean towels. He buried his derisive snort in the linen closet. "I doubt Jabba wasted any expenses on having you checked out, didn't he?"

"No, he didn't." Anakin folded her hands over her belly. "I thought for the longest time it might be dead inside me, but I've started to feel them move."

Jango handed her two towels. "How far along are you?"

"Almost six months."

Anakin bent to wrap Shila in the fluffy towel so she didn't see Jango frown at her. He was no expert, but he was almost certain most women were bigger by the time they were five or six months pregnant. Sure, she looked pregnant, but only barely.

"You sure about that?"

Anakin stilled, but nodded, her voice was low and confident. "Yes. I know exactly when it happened."

Jango wasn't going to press the issue. The Kaminoans could figure out the nitty gritty biological details. He moved to the bedrooms, "I'll find you some dry clothes. Won't fit all that well, but they'll be warmer and more suitable than that costume." He pulled a shirt and a pair of pants with a soft, drawstring waistband from his closet. The Kaminoans would have no trouble fabricating something more suitable for Anakin and Shila to wear, but this would do short-term. The little girl's clothes were the basic pants and tunic of Tatooine, but Anakin's costume would be entirely unsuitable for Kamino's climate, not to mention just daily life.

Jango grabbed a shirt from Boba’s room for Shila. It was big enough to be a dress on the child, and the sleeves fell past her hands, but it was workable with a few adjustments. Anakin's clothes were just as ill-fitting, but she didn't complain. She just had to pull the drawstring tight to keep her pants secure around her waist.

"It's only temporary," Jango assured her as she tugged at the oversized shirt. "We'll get you some better fitting clothes ‘fabbed once the Kaminoans get their measurements."

"It's fine," Anakin said quietly, fingering the shirt fabric, it was probably sturdier than anything she'd worn in a long time. Jango's clothes were made for warmth and wear. "This will do."

Jango took them back from the apartment and into the cloning complex, through the cold white hallways to the medical facility. It wasn't empty, it never was. With how many clones the Kaminoans spat out, the medical facilities were always busy; someone was always hurt or sick or injured, or having their genetic aberrations evaluated for viability. But the entrance from Jango's side of the facility kept him separated from the main body. He had mentioned the cloners to Anakin before, but he wasn't sure how much she had picked up on though. It had been a passing conversation as he taught her how to play sabbac. He felt like explaining it in whole might be a bit much for the newly-freed slave.

His side of the medical facility was a little clinic set aside from the main body of the medical wing. It was just one room; the medical bed dominated one side, while cabinets of medication and supplies lined the other walls. There were two doors, one they came through and another that went into the larger facility.

Jango flipped a switch on the panel by the facility door, it would summon a doctor. It must have been a slow day because a Kaminoan stepped into the room a few moments later, one of the doctors. Her big eyes scanned over Anakin and Shila before turning to Jango.

"What can I do for you today, Jango?"

"Doctor Wey Luma, this is Anakin and Shila Skywalker, new additions to my aliit. They both had subdermal chips removed that need patching up, and health checks, and Anakin's pregnant."

Kaminoans weren't nearly as expressive as humans, but Jango could see the excitement in Wey Luma's face. The doctors working with the clones were human specialists, but it wasn't like they came across any pregnant ones in this facility. She would probably become a scientific celebrity just on the fact that she got knocked up. He hoped Anakin wouldn't mind the scientists pawing at her. Probably not, she had enough practice with drunk Hutt patrons, and the Kaminoans wouldn't want to fuck her.

He turned to the Skywalkers, "Wey Luma will take care of you. I need to make some arrangements for your stay here."

"Okay." Anakin nodded and set her sister on the bed at the doctor's encouragement. Jango left the room and pulled up his comm.

He made a call to Taun We to arrange for a bigger apartment, they would need more space with Anakin, Shila, and a baby on the way. Plus supplies and clothing for the new additions.

And it was time to get Boba back from his caretakers and introduce his son to his new aliit. By the time he stepped back into the exam room, Anakin was perched on the medical bed, and Wey Luma was practically buzzing with excitement.

"Such hybridizations are almost unheard of," the doctor trilled. "You could provide us with priceless data."

Anakin looked nervous. She chewed on her lower lip while her hands rested over her little belly. "Would that mean you'll make sure the baby is healthy?"

The Kaminoan paused, confused. Jango stepped in quickly. "They'll take care of you and the baby regardless of whether you agree to let them study you."

"Oh, yes, of course," Wey Luma insisted quickly. "We would not withhold medical treatment. But… you would just do us an enormous favor if we were able to study you and your child."

"What's so special about it anyway?" Jango asked before Anakin had to agree to anything.

"He's half-pantoran. Humans and pantorans typically do not mix genetically."

Jango grunted in understanding. He understood only the most basics of genetics, and he imagined Anakin understood even less. "She'll think about it."

There was nothing else they needed from the doctor, so Jango took them back home.

Taun We was waiting with Boba and a small crate of supplies, the new clothes. Kaminoans were nothing if not efficient; the clothing fabricators must have gotten Anakin's measurements from the medical scans.

There wasn’t time for more than the quickest introductions, as their apartment had to be packed up and everything moved into bigger quarters. A squad of droids expedited the process, and after only a couple hours, they were fully moved into a new apartment.

Taun We and the droids left the newly expanded Fett clan alone to get properly acquainted.

“Boba,” Jango put a hand on his son’s shoulder, pushing him forward ever so slightly. “This is Anakin and her sister Shila Skywalker.”

Boba’s dark eyes traced over the Skywalkers. Confusion curled in his head, father had never brought home anyone before, much less a woman and child. He’d met a few of his father’s more trustworthy associates before, but Anakin didn’t look like a bounty hunter or well… much of anything. What was it about them that had prompted such a sudden uprooting? Why were they now living together?

He’d heard Jango and Anakin muttering about a baby earlier during the move. Was that why? Was she his father’s… girlfriend? Was Shila his half-sister? A natural born Fett heir?

Jango’s grip tightened on Boba’s shoulder and he quickly remembered his manners. “Hello.” He nodded quickly to Anakin and Shila, and then turned to his father for further explanation.

“Anakin and Shila are alit now. I expect you to treat them as such.”

Aliit? Them? That word meant something in Mando’a, Jango wouldn’t throw it around casually. But he knew his father’s adopted clan lines, he knew the branches and offshoots, and distant relations belonging to the family that had taken his father in as a boy. Skywalker was not one of those family names.

“Where did they come from?”

“Tatooine.”

That illuminated very little for Boba, but he could hear the mildly dismissive tone in his father’s words. Now was not the time for more questions.

Jango pushed Boba forward a little more. “Anakin and I need to talk. Can you keep Shila entertained?”

“Oh, okay.” Boba craned his neck a little to peek behind Anakin’s legs, where Shila was hiding. “Shila?” The child buried her face in the back of Anakin’s thighs.

Anakin smiled slightly and scooped her hand behind the child’s head and pushed her forward towards Boba. She said in gentle Huttese, “Go on, Shila, go with Boba.”

Shila stumbled forward, gripping tightly to Anakin’s sleeve. Her eyes were wide and frightened, and Boba didn’t miss the way she flinched away from Jango.

“Introduce yourself.” Anakin prompted.

Shila stuttered out in Huttese a quiet little, “H-hello.”

Boba looked back to his father once again, asking silently if Shila only spoke Huttese. His father nodded curtly, yes.

No worry there, Boba was near fluent in Huttese, so he smiled at the little girl and said back to her, “Hello Shila, I’m Boba.”

Her eyes lit up when she finally understood his words. Boba offered his hand and the child took it. He led her off down the hallway to her new bedroom, right across the hall from Boba’s.

“Let’s see what kind of toys we can find.”

Boba thought he was getting a little too old for toys, but the move had unearthed a lot of old stuff he had nearly forgotten about. He pulled the box down and set it on the floor for Shila to explore while he moved to the open door and tried to listen to whatever his father and Anakin were discussing, but they were speaking too quietly for him to overhear. Jango was clattering around the kitchen, preparing their evening meal, but also making enough noise to purposefully discourage eavesdropping.

Annoyed and disappointed, Boba turned back to Shila. She had tipped most of the boxes contents out onto the floor and had promptly ignored all of them for the plush Aiwha that was almost as big as she was. It must have been a gift or something, though Boba had never particularly cared for the stuffed animal; or many plus toys in general. Shila seemed to like it, though, so he held no qualms bestowing it upon her. Shila was so delighted and excited over the gift, she even dragged it out to the kitchen when they were called for dinner to show Anakin what Boba had given her.

Shila was all set to sit the Aiwha at the table with them for dinner, but Anakin had her put it back in her room. Jango wouldn’t have cared either way – it wouldn’t have been the first time a toddler would have insisted that a favorite toy had to be a dinner guest – but Anakin was still trying to figure out her place in this whole affair, so he wasn’t about to step in a parent her baby sister. Not yet at least.

Shila was still very much frightened of him, even without his armor and the knife, it would be some times before she warmed up to him. Probably when the pain and scar from her tracker faded. Having everyone around her able to speak the same language helped, but Jango knew the child couldn’t only know Huttese for forever. Galactic Basic was a must, as was Mando’a, and Kaminoan would be useful too. He had no doubt Shila would pick up new languages quickly, children that young learned fast. Anakin on the other hand needed to start Mando’a lessons as quickly as possible, picking up the language would be harder for her, but it was something she had to know.

Nobody in his aliit would not be fluent in Mando'a.

"You keep using that word," Anakin observed over dinner. "'A-leet' what does it mean?"

"Aliit means family, of the same clan."

She frowned at him, her brow furrowing in suspicion. "But we're not-"

"You are newly freed slaves. You have no clan or family. You're foundlings and I have taken you in, so now you are part of my aliit. The galaxy is safer for you this way, you have protection."

Anakin stared at him, caught between gratitude and suspicion. “Does this mean we will have to change our names?”

For practical reasons, it would be safer for Anakin and Shila to adopt new surnames; it reduced the chance people would recognize her by name. But he understood the importance and attachment beings could have to family names. If he told her she had to change, she would probably do so without complaint, but that might make her resent the name, resent him and this gift of freedom he was giving her. Then again, this wasn’t something he felt was within his power to decide for her. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Anakin nodded slowly, considering something else. “Does that mean we’re trapped here?”

Trapped wasn’t the word that Jango would have chosen, but he knew where she was coming from. What was the point of being free if you had nowhere to go except back to slavery? With no home, no family, no resources, or friends to turn to Kamino could feel like a trap.

“For now,” he said reassuringly, “You are safe here, and hidden. Kamino is not widely known to the galaxy, nor will the Hutts think to search for you here. And there’s no chance of anyone seeing you and turning you back over to him. If you find staying here to be truly interminable, I can make other arrangements for you, but it will take time.”

Most of the suspicion left Anakin, though Jango could still read a little unease in her. Freedom would take time to adjust to, and it had been less than a day. Her eyes skimmed over him and to the dark, rain-lashed windows that made up a wall of their living area. She managed an uneasy smile and said lightly, “Well, it is very different from Tatooine.”

#long post #not kidding y'all #this is over 5k of story #story related #no jedi allowed au #shades of tatooine #anakin skywalker #jango fett #boba fett #star wars #Jango is ace and there is nothing that will ever convince me otherwise!

[megaphonemonday]

my worst enemy

romanceisreal: Neither of them can get the baby to sleep so they start enlisting team mates to come over and help

Did I steal at least the inspiration for this premise from The Office? Definitely. Am I proud of that? Eh. 

read on ao3

It was entirely possible that at the grand old age of 41, before he’d even managed to make it onto the ballot for the Baseball Hall of Fame or master the art of the one-handed diaper change, Mike Lawson had finally lost his mind. 

Sleep-deprivation-induced insanity was a thing, right? They—and he didn’t know who exactly, but he was willing to bet someone out there believed this—said that too many nights without hitting a REM cycle could do that. Mike had to have left that particular benchmark in the dust at least a week ago. 

He’d either lost his mind or he’d actually crashed the car on his way home from the grocery store and this was some hallucination courtesy of a concussion and an infusion of the good shit at the hospital. Because he definitely hadn’t stumbled his way through laying up his haul, probably stowing boxes of spaghetti in the freezer and the Eggos in the pantry, in his fatigue and eagerness to get upstairs for Ruby’s bedtime only to be confronted by... this. 

Because this could not be real. Not unless some very serious brain damage was at play.

It was the only way to explain what Mike was witnessing in the nursery. It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him. His exhausted brain had finally given up the charade and melted into a puddle of goo that’d come dribbling out his ears any minute. 

That, after all, was just as plausible as the scene he’d just walked out on: Ruby Baker-Lawson for once sound asleep at her designated bedtime. 

Of course, that wasn’t what made him turn on his heel and go in search of her mother. That, if anything, was a dream come true. Had he mentioned how goddamn long it had been since he’d had a good night’s sleep? 

(If he were less tired, he’d remember that he’d started keeping track on the calendar on his phone. As it was, Mike was just relatively sure it’d been too fucking long.)

The problem was who, exactly, had finally, miraculously, gotten her down for the count. 

It wasn’t Ruby’s mother or father; their kid had proven over and over again that she had little respect for his or Ginny’s authority. 

(Or their begging and pleading, for that matter.) 

It wasn’t Al, who’d been more than happy to adopt yet another grandchild, in spite of the fact he already had a horde of his own.

It wasn’t even Blip or Evelyn, which would’ve probably stung a little. In the interest of reintroducing his daughter to something even approaching a regular sleep schedule, though, he’d learn to get over it.

He was less sure he’d get over this. 

Mike wasn’t sure how to even begin wrapping his brain around the sight of Livan fucking Duarte in the nursery— settled as comfortably into the rocking chair as if he’d been the one to spend hours cursing over the incomprehensible instructions just to construct the damn thing—a sleeping Ruby nestled into the crook of his arm. 

Was it too late to ask for that total mental breakdown?

“Ginny!” Mike hissed, probably too loud considering his daughter was soundly asleep for the first time in what felt like weeks just a room away. He wanted answers. Right fucking now. 

Which, okay. If it was possible that Mike had actually lost his mind, it was more than possible that he was overreacting.

He knew this. Somewhere in the last reasonable part of his mind—the part that wasn’t operating solely on day-old coffee, adrenaline, and three hours of dozing, one ear always cocked for fussing from his baby girl—was fully aware that this was not the hill he wanted to die on.

(If he had to pick, he’d definitely go with something more important. Like the superiority of Empire Strikes Back over Return of the Jedi. Or implementing Pants-less Thursdays in the Baker-Lawson household like he’d tried before Ginny got pregnant. 

At least as long as Ruby was too little to notice. How else was she going to get a younger sibling? 

Well, given his track record, in a multitude of ways, but this would definitely up the odds, right?)

Problem was: that part, that utterly reasonable part of him that he wanted so desperately to listen to? It was weak. Defenseless. Beaten down by weeks of failure to get his daughter to do one of the four things all babies were constitutionally designed to excel at: sleep.

So much so that every other part of him—the ones that had turned a little ruthless in the face of too little rest and too much stress—had no problem squashing it like a bug.

Poor thing. It never even stood a chance.

His wife, as relentlessly productive as usual, though she had to be operating in the same thick fog of fatigue as him, stuck her head out of the laundry room but stepped into the hall when she caught sight of his thunderous expression. She padded along the plush runner, wafting the soothing scent of dryer sheets and warm linen as she approached. 

Mike didn’t let himself be lulled out of his anger in spite of the way she smelled exactly the way he’d always imagined home would and looked even better. (It was always something of a marvel that Ginny’d actually agreed to hitch her wagon to his, not least because she still managed to look like a goddamn supermodel with bags under her eyes and dried spit up on her shirt.) He steeled himself, didn’t let the indignation sputter and die, instead stoking it to a crackling roar.

How could she have called him? Of all the people who would’ve dropped what they were doing to help them out—and Mike could even admit that they probably needed it—it had to be Livan? 

“Seriously?” he demanded, unwilling or unable to translate his—God, there was no word for it but—betrayal into more something more eloquent. 

He didn’t really need to, though. They knew each other too well—which was almost always a good thing, even if something ugly was stirring in the pit of Mike’s stomach now—for there to be any question of what he meant. 

Her jaw squared, shoulders drawing back as she braced for his response to her answer: “He’s babysitting. So we can get some sleep.”

Mike snorted, even if the thought of actually getting to sleep with Ginny in the same bed at the same time nearly made him tear up in desperation. It’d been too fucking long since he’d had that and goddamn it, he missed it.

Livan Duarte, hotheaded hotshot still tearing up the NL West and coaxing Ginny through her starts, had lowered himself to babysit? And Mike was supposed to just go to sleep with him in his house? Jesus, what had the world come to? 

Theoretically, it wasn’t such a bad idea. It was pretty brilliant, actually. Mike would just chalk it up to sleep deprivation that he hadn’t come up with it himself.

It was the reality of it all that bothered him. Livan had already taken one job from Mike. He couldn’t have this one too.

If Mike were just a little less exhausted, he was pretty sure he could put up a better fight. Then again, if Mike, or Ginny for that matter, were a little less exhausted, there’d be nothing to fight over.

He’d been tired before, but this was something else. Worse than any burnout from a playoff push, worse than back to back doubleheaders in the depths of July, worse than his bouts of insomnia during his separation from Rachel. Worse because there was no end in sight; he and Ginny were responsible for this mess—under ordinary circumstances Mike would never refer to his six-month-old daughter as a “mess” unless she’d managed to blow out yet another diaper, but he figured it might be allowed in this particular instance. Ruby was theirs to raise and love unconditionally and, yeah, at the moment, grit their teeth and deal with until she eventually grew up and moved out.

Which, to be clear, Mike still wanted to come only after she’d graduated or maybe turned at least 35. Still, it was a little hard to remember that sometimes.

Because for what seemed like the past eternity—but could only have been a month tops or they’d already be dead instead of just dead on their feet—little Ruby Baker-Lawson had been running her parents ragged. His own progeny.

Spawn seemed more accurate lately.

God knew Mike loved Ruby more than life itself—remember: no moving out until after she had her own 401K and maybe not even then—but would it really kill her to cut them a break? To go the fuck to sleep and stay asleep for more than an hour or three at a time?

Given Ruby’s continued refusal to do so—even in the face of her parents’ increasingly desperate tactics: swaddling, long car rides, the rock n’ play she was rapidly outgrowing, sprawling her bare-skinned and squirming against Mike’s chest to be lulled by his breathing, endless circuits of the house as Ginny bounced and rocked her into drowsiness—Mike suspected that it just might.

As soon as they thought they had her down, settled into her crib, white noise machine whirring, and began to sneak out of the room, the baby would begin to wail, upset at finding herself left alone.

On darker days, Mike found himself wondering from which parent she’d inherited her clear terror of abandonment.

It wasn’t that Mike would rather endure his daughter’s sobs, his heart broke every time her little lip so much as wobbled, but did it really have to be—

“Him?” he hissed, not bothering to keep his voice down. So what if Ruby had been quiet the whole time he’d been home and this woke her up again? Apparently, they’d hired a goddamn Cuban manny without Mike even realizing. God, how long had he been at the grocery store? “Ginny, Jesus! You called him? To our house? Where we live?”

"Neither of us are gonna be living here much longer if we can’t get Ruby to sleep through the night! We’re gonna lose our minds, Lawson,” she hissed right back, albeit at a far more reasonable volume. Any louder, though, and Mike was sure she might’ve just given in and yelled. Clearly, neither of them were at their best tonight. 

Well, at least he wasn’t the only one entertaining that possibility. Maybe going crazy wouldn’t be so bad if Ginny was in it with him. It sent a funny wave of warmth rushing through him; he really did love this woman. Wouldn’t trade her or her ability to understand him for anything, not even a solid eight hours.

“Besides,” Ginny continued, apparently oblivious to the rush of affection she’d just inspired in her husband, or she wouldn’t ask, “who else should I have called?”

“Anyone!” Mike was aware there was a distinct whine to his voice, but he didn’t really care. 

Out of all the people she could have asked to come lend a hand, (Blip and Ev, Salvi, Al and, weirdly because he had no kids of his own, Omar all had pretty good track records with Ruby, even if only for short periods. They were better than what Ginny and Mike were currently managing. Some other time, when Mike’s brain wasn’t shrouded in a haze of sleep deprivation, he would feel worse about the fact that his baby only went to sleep for men who weren’t him.) she had to pick the smirking asshole who’d taken his job.

After he retired on his own terms, of course, but it still fucking rankled.

She rolled her eyes. “You never complain when Omar babysits.” 

Which was—

Well, absolutely true. But for good reasons!

For one, Omar had never set himself up as the Baby Whisperer, easily getting Ruby to cooperate and fall asleep where neither of her parents could. Omar definitely hadn’t looked up at Mike’s entrance into the nursery, baby cradled peacefully in his arms, smirked, and said, “Heard you needed my help, old man.”

Because for two, Mike actually scared Omar. 

That’d never been true of Livan.

Of course, now Livan had even less reason to be afraid. He had an ace in the hole.

The kid loved him. She loved lots of things—strained carrots and her stuffed turtle, Ginny’s dimples and his beard—but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she loved Livan Duarte.

It was a bit of a sore point.

Even before this latest bout of sleeplessness, Ruby always lit up whenever the Cuban catcher happened to walk by when Mike took her to Petco to visit Ginny. Livan, in turn, was slightly less obnoxious while interacting with Ruby; he grinned rather than smirked and it didn’t matter if he spoke to her in crooning Spanish because it wasn’t like she really understood him anyway.

If it were anyone else, Mike would’ve been happy to admit Ruby babbling in excitement as she was danced around the Padres’ clubhouse was pretty fucking cute.

Except it was Livan and, seriously, fuck that guy.

Still, Mike didn’t really have much interest in delving into his lingering resentment and jealousy of the guy who’d taken his job.

So, he replied, “Because Omar’s not gonna teach our kid Spanish pickup lines before she can even walk.”

Ginny laughed, a short, almost hysterical sound that immediately had Mike catching hold of her hands to draw her in close. She took the invitation gratefully, but didn’t collapse against him the way he really wanted. She held herself up, looking him straight in the eye as she asked, “What did you want me to do? Neither of us have slept for more than an hour at a time all week.”

“She’s just reverse cycling,” he tried, feeble and well aware of it.

Sensing the flicker in his resolve, Ginny shifted her grip and twined their fingers together. The cool, platinum band of her wedding ring against his skin flicked a switch somewhere deep in his gut. Immediately, his hammering heart rate dropped, the flood of anger and desperation leaking away. She looked up at him, big, brown eyes weighted down by heavy shadows. Mike doubted his were much better.

“I’m this close to losing it, Lawson,” she said, honesty and a little shame coating her words. Automatically, he squeezed her hand, bringing a flicker of a smile to her face. Still, Ginny shook her head. “Livan’s the only one to reliably get her to stay down for more than an hour or two at a time, and she’s so little. She needs to sleep. If that means he has more opportunity to push your buttons, I’m willing to put up with it.”

“Because it’s not your buttons he’s pushing,” he muttered.

“Mike,” she pleaded, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and otherwise sagging against him. His arm wrapped around her waist, support and comfort all at once. He marveled, not for the first time, that in six months she’d already worked off all the baby weight. He didn’t necessarily miss the extra softness, though it’d been nice while it was there. Honestly, he loved Ginny any way he could have her. Besides. Her rack? Still phenomenal. A fact he could appreciate all the better with her pressed to him. He did manage to drag his thoughts out of the gutter to listen to the rest of her request. “I need to sleep. We need to sleep.”

She sounded so exhausted, so close to throwing in the towel in a way he wasn’t used to, not from Ginny fucking Baker, that he immediately caved.

“I know,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles up and down her back. Ginny sighed, and Mike was sure that if he kept it up, they’d fall asleep standing right there in the hall, mere steps from their bedroom. When her arms came up to wrap around his waist, and she snuggled in, warm and close and perfect, he thought he might not even mind.

Except, that was the moment Livan chose to emerge from the nursery, cradling their sleeping baby—the love of Mike’s life right alongside her mother—and smirking that insufferable smirk of his. He raised a brow at the position he found them in, but otherwise managed to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Mami,” he murmured, low and concerned enough that Mike felt a stab of affection rush through him; anyone who cared about Ginny that much couldn’t be all terrible, “I thought I was here to babysit. Let you and the old man get some sleep. What are you still doing up?”

Ginny pulled away and any charitable thoughts Mike might have harbored went up like so much smoke.

“We’re going, we’re going,” she replied, tugging on Mike’s hand, to lead him to their room. He followed along, only a little grudging.

“You sure it had to be him?” he muttered, low enough to seem like he didn’t mean for Livan to hear it while still making absolutely sure he did.

Ginny just squeezed his hand. Livan, though, hadn’t quite learned when to keep his trap shut.

“Don’t be mad, Lawson,” he said, that god damn smirk somehow audible. “Your girl’s just got good taste.”

Whether he meant Ruby or her mother was up for debate. Neither option left Mike feeling warm or fuzzy, though.

He glared but still allowed Ginny to pull him away, into their dark bedroom. Which was made only darker when she shut the door, cutting off the hall light and any more snark from their babysitter. 

Smart move.

In the dark with just his wife to worry about—for all his faults, Livan could handle a sleeping baby on his own—the world seemed to slow down. Mike wasn’t quite so aware of the way his pulse rushed in his ears, became more attuned to Ginny’s quiet breaths filling the space, the warmth of her hand still clasped in his.

At the foot of the bed, she turned back to him. Her hands skated up his arms, over his shoulders, fingers finally lacing behind his neck to hold him just where she wanted. 

Mike waited. 

Not for long.

In the weak light filtering in through the windows, she leaned up to press a less than chaste kiss against his mouth. It didn’t take much convincing for MIke to sink into it, even with a cocky Cuban somewhere outside their door.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d done more than swig mouthwash; Ginny’s tongue was curled around his, sweet as the first time he’d ever kissed her. For the first time in weeks, Mike was at his leisure to reciprocate, working a hand into his wife’s—God, he was never gonna get tired of that; Ginny Baker was his goddamn wife—hair and drawing her in close. She came eagerly, leaning against him the way she had in the hall, though there was nothing weary about her now. She licked eagerly into him, rising on her tiptoes to get her own taste.

For once, nothing interrupted the moment.

For once, Mike got to languidly undress Ginny, fingertips skimming over miles of smooth, brown skin, and enjoy her hands against his arms and chest and thighs as she did the same for him.

And, yeah, once they made it into bed, they were too fucking tired to do much more than curl together and lazily kiss until their eyes and lips grew too heavy to do anything other than give in to the heady call of sleep. But Mike wasn’t going to complain.

Sure, it was Livan playing babysitter to his daughter, but there were worse things in the world. Especially since it meant Mike was going to wake up after a full night’s sleep with Ginny Baker in his arms. Maybe, come morning, they’d even be able to finish what they started. A little morning sex would more than cancel out putting up with a smirking Cuban in his house.

Plus, once he was properly rested, Mike could start coming up with some appropriate payback. Livan could joke about Ginny’s, or Ruby’s as yet unproven, taste in men all he wanted. 

Just like Mike could bribe his former teammates to replace all of Livan’s expensive hair products with glitter-infused knockoffs.

He chuckled in spite of himself.

From her place draped over his chest, Ginny let out a sleepy sigh, nuzzling her cheek over his heart as she settled more firmly against him. Mike didn’t bother reining in his beaming smile as he dropped one last kiss on her forehead and closed his eyes, arms tightening around the love of his life.

Didn’t matter how satisfying it would eventually be; payback could wait. He had something much better to focus on now.

#bawson #bawson fic #pitch #pitch fic #i wrote something #i am 95% sure #all of my kidfic #takes place in the same time line #i haven't gone back to check #re: continuity #but from now on #that's what i'm thinking

[lucaumbriel]

The Last Jedi spoilers (and a huge wall of text) under the cut

The opening was way too similar to Empire Strikes Back, the Rebellion, sorry, the “Resistance” has just destroyed the First Order’s big bad weapon, but despite this the bad guys are stronger than ever (no, seriously, they apparently have defacto rule of the Galaxy or something now, because apparently the destruction of one system means the entire Republic is gone somehow) and the good guys are on the run.

Rey is seeking training from Luke, which is also a plot point lifted directly from ESB, but is done in a completely different way so it’s not something I hold against the movie. The training itself, however, is lack luster and feels more like something you’d see stretched out across an entire episodic season crammed into as little screen time as possible between everything else that’s going on. And I really didn’t like how they started going the route of “well, the Jedi need to die, but that doesn’t mean there are not going to be any more force users”, like they were going to have Luke get Rey to gut the tradition and legacy and keep everything else to sort of found a brand new order without any of the “you should fear the dark side because it’s the dark side and don’t ask questions about it because you shouldn’t be asking about that” and the removal of emotions and attachments and so on, and then go right back to “actually, nah, Rey’s gonna tell Luke that the Jedi are cool and that’s gonna change his mind and he’s even gonna acknowledge her as a jedi cause the jedi are cool and we wouldn’t want to stray from that or anything even though Kylo explicitly said he’s not gonna be a sith”. Like, there were so so many other arguments Luke could have used to show how the Jedi are not the undisputed good guys (just look at the people who try to say how “the jedi are the actual bad guys” cause they steal babies and enforce a specific lifestyle and doctrine and anyone who doesn’t agree with everything gets thrown out, instead of just “the Jedi were egotistical, they all died cause Palpy fooled them”, which is the single weakest argument for “the jedi weren’t actually that good” I think I’ve ever seen and that entire scene just feels pathetic and annoying).

Which brings me to the next bit and my major criticism with the movie: they try to do to much. It feels like two or three movies, or most of a Netflix mini-series crammed into two and a half hours. It doesn’t let you really digest anything that’s happening and everything from the subplots to the main plot feels rushed and there are a lot of little things (like the fight between Luke and Kylo) that feel really tacked on despite them actually being pretty important overall to the story. Like, they could have stopped the film at several points (most notably after everyone got in the base), but it’s like they kept coming back with “and one more thing” (the bad guys have a canon that can blast through it, which actually would have made an interesting cliff hanger, if this were the Netflix mini-series it feels like), and then “one more thing!”, and then “one more thing!”

The conflict between Poe and the Admiral feels unnecessary. Yes, Poe was wrong to go behind her back, and more wrong to try and mutiny because the Admiral did actually have a fully fleshed out and usable plan that would have worked perfectly if Poe hadn’t sent Finn and Rose off to infiltrate the flagship and allow the code breaker to betray them for money, but his actions were still justified because instead of explaining the plan to him or anyone else, she intentionally kept him the dark and obfuscated what she had planned for no reason what so ever, seriously, there was no reason she couldn’t say “we’re going to load people in the shuttles, yes, I know they’re shielded and unarmed and will never outrun the destroyers, that’s why I’m going to stay behind and pilot the cruiser, we’re gambling on them not looking for smaller ships, so this should provide a decent distraction, the shuttles will be going to a fortress world were they’ll have enough power to contact our allies”, but no, she never says that, instead she just tells him “trust me” and “hope” and when he finds out about the shuttles she blows him off. Yeah, Poe is a hot head and all, but she’s a shitty leader if she can’t be asses to explain a simple plan to someone who you have no indication of being a defector or spy or anything else. The entire time it feels like either she’s the traitor like Poe thinks, or she’s trying to trick a traitor by using Poe or some shit but there’s no actual payoff to the entire subplot except “Poe was wrong and should have blindly trusted his leader who’s first conversation with him involved her verbally bitch slapping him and acting like he’s been nothing but a detriment to the entire Resistance.”

Over all, the film feels like an action movie, with a lot of space battles, amazingly choreographed fight scenes, lots of big loud energetic moments like them crashing through the casino, it doesn’t feel like a Star Wars movie so much as an abridged season of Clone Wars or Rebels.

Oh, and how can I forget Rey. She continues to be a Mary Sue, never suffering any real complications or failings, even in this film, her absolute biggest fuck up, getting herself captured thinking she can turn Kylo to the light side and together defeat Snoke, results only in Kylo killing his only superior and acquiring supreme control over the First Order, and then she escapes with no real consequences otherwise. And if you say “well putting the immature, hot headed, egotistical, man-child in charge of the First Order instead of the highly powerful, nearly all seeing, calm, collected, and very powerful mastermind who put the First Order together in the first place” a bad outcome from this and something that has in any way actually strengthened the Order, especially since we already see the conflict between Kylo and Hux growing worse and worse with every scene they’re in, then I don’t really know what to tell you except maybe watch the movie again and actually pay attention.

The fight scene between Kylo and Luke was awesome, though, again, very action movie and, like I said above, adds to the list of “they tried to do too much in one movie”. I like that if you pay attention, you can see that it was pretty obvious he was never actually there. Not only “how did he get into a base there’s supposedly only one way out of” but “how did he even get there in the first place?” the only ship we see is the sunken X-Wing that’s probably been there for way too long for it to still be usable, and then not only is he not even scratched by the ATs, he doesn’t even have any dust on him period, he’s using a lightsaber that we just saw sundered, and he’s adamantly refusing to even block Kylo’s attacks. The dice thing, however, was stupid and makes no fucking sense at fucking all. I was waiting for him to say the line, but he never did, you’re supposed to become more powerful that he could ever imagine, damn it.

Luke’s ascension also feels kinda tacked on and forced, epic as it was. Makes me think they were planning to kill each of the main three at the end of their particular movie. We’ll see how that holds up...considering.

Kylo’s continued indecision was good, as was the twist with him killing Snoke and then taking command instead of turning. I also liked the fact that he used his apparent execution of Rey to cover his actual execution of Snoke, which reminded me of the “you will kill Luke Skywalker” thing with Mara Jade in the comics, though I am a little disappointed that after everything from the first film, this is all we get with Snoke unless he revives himself somehow. Which would be stupid, honestly.

The fight scene with the honor guards was awesome, though Rey continues to prove that someone who grew up fighting rats on a farm with a staff is a match for much better trained fighters. I was fine with the scene, up until she and Kylo were both being choked out and she’s the only one who figures out how to escape and then gets to save Kylo. With everything else on top, it just adds to my dislike of her writing as I’ve discussed above. How Kylo finished off the last guard was awesome, though, and everyone in the theater cheered cause it was awesome.

All of this, and any other things I might have forgotten, I still loved this movie and it was great. Great fight scenes. Great space combat. The casino scene with all the aliens was great. Luke was great. Leia was great. That scene between Luke and R2, especially once he played the message, was great. Rey, Finn, Poe, and Rose maybe not great but they were ok. The scenes that reminded me of other movies, comics, TV series were all great (except maybe the elevator scene that paralleled Return’s Luke/Vader scene, that just felt kinda weird). The pieces were all great, it’s the bits between them that are more...eh, and while some of them are necessary, others, like I’ve said, feel tacked on or fall into “and one more thing” near the end.

Overall, I would rate this as one of the better Star Wars movies. It’s better than Empire (the filler of Star Wars), and definitely better than most of Clone “I hate sand”/forced romance Wars. If it had been a mini-series instead of a whole movie or some of its points had been cut from here and put in some EU materials or another movie somewhere, I think it would have come out better because they would have had more time to flesh things out and work with more of the points they raised up instead of it feeling rushed and crammed together. Empire, for its faults, still handles its two plots better than Last Jedi handled it’s three or four.

#tldr: i liked it but it had its problems