I think the reason Boba Fett is always depicted as being broke as fuck despite being the galaxy's most renowned bounty hunter is that he's always caught in the sisyphean effort of keeping his 30 y/o, last-of-its-kind ship up and running
don't get me wrong the Slave I is cool as fuck but it's just about as old as Boba himself and spare parts for a Firespray must not be cheap seeing how Jango was kind enough to blow the remaining prototypes to the netherworld of the Force back at Oovo IV
this is doubly funny because in Legends, Jango's original ship was Jaster Mereel's own and was pushing thirty by the time of the prequels. The Fetts are sentimental bastards for their ships, it runs in the family
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Mandos who use stickers on their armor but in a ‘don’t tell mom I got a tattoo’ sorta way. Someone gets a bumper sticker on their ass armor that says dumptruck and ba’buir is so mad for no reason. ‘Check out my newest piece it’s scratch and sniff.’
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The timing Gods were smiling on Jango Fett, that day. Little Boba took his first steps right before Daddy left for a job. Taun We had just arrived for babysitting duties, and she was so happy for Jango. Art by @bomerpascal (Commission)
For one so small, you seem so strong
My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm
This bond between us can't be broken
I will be here, don't you cry...
Little Boba is frightened by the Kamino thunderstorm, but Daddy Jango is there to keep him safe. Commission by @bomerpascal
Bobatober Day 8: Young. Some precious moments with Jango and baby Boba. Commissions by @bomerpascal
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Said it before and I'll say it again!
Star Wars artists who draw Clones to look like Temuera Morrison and not the barely olive, pointy white guy they use for the clone wars, I love you and I'm kissing you on the forehead right now.
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Happy Valentine's Day!!! (???)
...yeah.
~~
PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, TRANSLATE, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART. To share, please reblog! Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!!!
❀ You can see the rest of my art through the Masterpost pinned to the top of my blog!
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boba fett's childhood is such an untapped goldmine of uncanny existential horror, even before he loses his father.
like, imagine growing up never seeing another child except those that are identical to you—carbon copies in every way, except their heads are shaved, they're plugged into machines all day, and they never stay children for very long. the ones that survive turn into men who look like your father, but your father calls them cattle, cannon fodder.
you're a clone, too. you should be cattle like them, but your father doesn't call you those things. he says you're his real son and that he loves you.
your father loves you. this is what distinguishes you from the cattle and the canon fodder. your father loves you and that's what makes you a person.
and :) then :) he :) fucking :) dies :)
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Boba is small and obnoxious, in a way only small tubies can be, squirming and thrashing around in his crib as he wails. He’s been told that Boba is denominated “a toddler”, by nat-born standards. CC-2224 is not impressed.
“What does the word ‘Boba’ mean,” he asks. The word has been bothering him for some time now.
Jango doesn’t raise his eyes from the datapad he’s frowning at, “It’s an old family name.”
CC-2224 considers this. Boba continues to wail at the injustices of the world. CC-2224 is sympathetic to that, at least.
And then the question pops in his head like an armed grenade.
“Can I have a name?” he asks.
Jango looks up at him, both eyebrows raised up to his hairline. There's a considering silencie, and then he says, like he's already regretting it, “You could.”
CC-2224 stares at him expectantly. Boba wails, mostly ignored.
Jango snorts and shakes his head, letting his attention fall back on his datapad, “You’ll have to come up with one on your own, kid. I’m shit at naming things,”
CC-2224 frowns, looking down at Boba, who’s finally beginning to realize no one paying much attention to his crying and he might need to adapt his strategies.He makes grabby fingers at CC-2224, who watches impassively.
Making an impulsive decision, he reaches into the crib and pulls the baby out, holding him at eye level like a hide up for inspection.
“I like the word kote,” CC-2224 says.
“Very modest,” Jango snorts, but he sounds approving. Newly christened Kote thinks he wasn’t looking for approval, but its nice getting it anyway.
Boba sneezes on his face, and the universe shifts.
Kote's never seen the sun, but someday he'll understand this moment feels like sunrise.
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