Don’t think about Jango Fett and the moment that a Kaminoan doctor put a tiny bundled clone in his arms.
Don’t think about Jango Fett looking down at this wee little scrap of humanity and realizing that yes this is my son.
Don’t think about Jango holding his son close and whispering, “Boba. Your name is Boba.”
Just- don’t think about it, okay?
Seriously guys. What did I tell you?
DON’T THINK ABOUT IT!
Also, don’t think about the six millions clones Jango also fathered but never gave a bantha’s ass about either.
Don’t think about them dying and hurting and being treated like animals by people like Palpatine, Krell or the Kaminoans.
Don’t think about them having no family but the brothers they keep losing day after day, and that just because Jango was a greedy son of a Hutt who didn’t think one second about what his clones’ lives would be because it made him rich and gave him a son (although I’m sure he loved Boba very much, truly, deeply cared for his well being and did his best to raise him – which, I won’t deny it, is cute).
Master Plo Koon is frustrated that he is outvoted by all the air breathers every time he requests that the room’s oxygen level be reduced [Star Wars Insider #83]
Hera: a competent commander and experienced veteran. Nice beard.
Kanan: The guy with the second best facial hair on the Ghost.
Ahsoka: A guy who doesn’t text back for ten years and then randomly shows up at your house going “wassup” like nothing’s changed
Ezra: owner of the #1 coolest trooper helmet I have ever seen, that he STILL WON’T LET ME HAVE
Sabine: my weird uncle
Zeb: The reason I wear sunglasses. He walks into the room and the light bouncing off his bald head shines right into my eyes. No one else notices because they’re all shorter than him.
Chopper: my best bitchbuddy. the only one on this ship whose salt content even begins to approach my own
Commander Sato: The only one in this rebellion, myself included, who has any idea what the hell he’s doing. I may have taped his picture up in my bunkroom. I may have spent three hours drunkenly crying under the console table until he princess-carried me to my room and assured me that he didn’t think I was dumb. I may have written “what would Rex do” in sharpie on my hand. Maybe. There’s no way of knowing
Wolffe: some asshole
Gregor: the guy who left and made Wolffe sad
Vader: *choking noises* WHO?! Shit, he’s gonna fucking kill me
Obi-Wan: *staring off into the sunset, tear running down face* Cody used to refer to him as his little fucking nerd baby brother. Rex was the bravest fucking nerd I ever knew
Kallus: *distant stare* in the Academy, they told us we were superior to the old Clone Troopers. But they made us study their tactics anyway. His picture was on page 2 of my tactical maneuvers textbook. Staring at me. Judging me. I’ve read his battle strategies more than thirty times and I still don’t know what he was doing. I don’t think I ever will. His face has changed but when I see him in person I just know he’s still staring at me. judging me through his beard
This is thanks to my CWB nonnie, who suggested force sensitive medics. Naturally my brain jumped straight to Kix. Shout out to @thebisexualmandalorian for being awesome and encouraging. It got a little long so please enjoy under the cut. Also available on ao3.
Kix knelt down next to a shiny. He was pretty badly hurt. Looked like he took a chunk of shrapnel to the chest. Kix looked around the battlefield, there were no Jedi around. Skywalker and Tano were off chasing the last of the seppies, and Cody had Kenobi cornered with some other medics back towards camp.
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