#captainmunroe

i’d be happy to oblige, friend! here are some more miscellaneous boba deets, courtesy of the EU/legends 😊

though there are varying portrayals by different authors re: boba’s take on collateral damage, one of my favorites comes from one of the earliest boba fett stories. in it, boba is hunting han solo (of course) some time after the events of the original trilogy, but during the mission, things go awry and a civilian character is mortally wounded by a blaster bolt meant for han. boba, who in this timeline has never killed the wrong target before, proceeds to let han solo run away so he can check on the woman and, once he realizes that she’s too far gone to save, he administers something to ease her passing and kneels by her side, holding her hand until she passes away. it’s a surprisingly tender scene and goes to show that, as ruthless as he is, boba just isn’t willing to let someone die a slow, painful, lonely death for his fuck-up.

speaking of han, as boba gets older, he becomes deeply embarrassed by his “rivalry” with solo as a young man and will insist to anyone who brings it up that it wasn’t a thing and that han just tells everyone they’re “nemeses” for the Drama Of It All

this is infinitely more hilarious if you’ve read early EU work in which boba’s rivalry with han consisted mostly of boba obsessively hunting him while han is like “GET AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING WEIRDO” 

speaking of things boba finds embarrassing once he’s older, at one point, he’s trying to verify the legit-ness of someone claiming to be telemetric (able to read memories off of objects), so he gives the man a necklace belonging to another bounty hunter he was romantically involved in as a teenager. boba is very skeptical and not expecting much, until the man starts reciting pick-up lines boba used at the wise old age of 16 

cue boba just about dying inside

like, his thoughts are literally just, “OH GOD, IT’S ALL TOO STUPID FOR HIM TO BE MAKING UP ON THE SPOT, HE FUCKING KNOWS”

honestly, they’re less pick-up lines and more just. a very sincere list of reasons he likes this other bounty hunter.

“YOU’RE GOOD AT SHOOTING THINGS. YOU’RE PRETTY??? I TRUST YOU???”

love that apparently boba’s idea of flirting as a teenager was just frantically chucking heartfelt positive statements at someone in no particular order

to his credit, it did work 😂

the lowest amount boba has ever killed someone for is three credits. this happens bc boba is trying to save the son of a clone, connor, from his creditors, initially by offering to pay his debt of half a million credits for him. when the creditor rejects boba’s offer and insists that he’d rather kill connor, connor fishes into his pockets, produces three credits, and goes, “HEY, FETT, I’LL GIVE YOU THREE CREDITS IF YOU KILL THIS ASSHOLE FOR ME” and boba’s like, “u kno what, fuck it” and does just that.

boba in the aftermath of fucking up all the shit, standing next to connor in a room full of dead bodies, including one rancor: “you owe me three credits :/”

okay, now for some cultural stuff, starting with mando’a!

though boba in the mandalorian seems at least able to read mando’a script, in the EU, he doesn’t start to learn mando’a until he’s much older

naturally, some of the first words he picks up are curse words LMAO

man is a stoic, battle-hardened bounty hunter and he still learns languages like a fucking fourth grader 

aside from cusses, two words he has particular reactions to are aruetii and ba’buir

aruetii means “outsider” or “non-mandalorian” and boba feels weird and self-conscious using it bc, uh... that... probably includes him in the eyes of most mandalorians, huh?

ba’buir means “grandfather.” in the EU, he does indeed have a granddaughter who calls him this and he becomes quietly attached to the it as a term of address—to the point where, when his granddaughter refers to her grandmother as “ba’buir” as well, boba has a moment of “hey wait, that’s my word >:(”... before remembering that the word can be used for both. GENDERLESS NOUNS, BAY-BEE

boba has... mostly negative feelings about the mandalorian view of the afterlife or the manda. basically, it’s a collective consciousness of every mandalorian who has ever died. non-mandalorians don’t go there bc according to traditional mandalorian belief, non-mandalorians don’t have souls

it’s quite telling that the normally not-very-expressive boba winces when the topic of the manda is brought up. and then when he’s asked what his problem is, he has a whole list of questions/objections to the manda as a concept. what if a mandalorian doesn’t want to go to the manda? do you have to spend eternity having your consciousness mixed with real monsters like tor vizsla and montross (mandalorians associated with death watch responsible for orphaning/betraying boba’s father)? what if you have non-mandalorian family members? are they allowed to come? and if an exception is made for them, why not the rest of the galaxy?

it’s interesting, bc clearly this isn’t a subject boba doesn’t know or care about; he’s obviously thought about it a lot to have all this to say about it. honestly, i wouldn’t be surprised if he put so much thought into it bc it may very well have been the afterlife jango believed in.

also, to end on a lighter note, boba is hilariously bad at all the like... leadership parts of being mand’alor.

there’s one scene where beviin drags him to a town hall meeting and all the other mandalorians are arguing over whether they should involve themselves in the new republic’s conflicts or not and boba’s like, “wow, this is really interesting. let me just quietly listen to all these different points being raised and think about—wait, why is everyone looking at me—oh. oh shit, they’re expecting me to actually say something.”

Hiii! This is my first piece that I have decided to post! It is an original work of fiction that I hope you enjoy! 

Word Count: 1,154 

Warning: Death (non graphic, very vague)  

             It creeps up on me as I kick pebbles along the narrow trail. The brown dirt dry and cracked from an unusual lack of rain for this time of year. I can feel an ominous chill in the spring air. The sun had risen a couple of hours prior to my departure. The trail is in my backyard and it leads to a clearing in the dense brush of an ancient rainforest. Definitely not an extensive trek, ten minutes at the most.

 The image I conjure when I lie alone at night was always the same. However, my image of death isn’t elaborate. Remembering is an issue I have yet to encounter. The portrayal is plain, yet intricate. Scary, but still soothing, in a most peculiar way.

 The scientific community hypothesized my depiction of death wholly in 1916. When Albert Einstein published his theory of general relativity, he predicted the existence of black holes. A fierce, floating orb that will swallow you up and spit you out (if it does), only God knows where. In 1964 his prediction was confirmed.

 My ponderings on this particular topic were never bothersome. I never found myself saddened by the morbid fascination. Yes, it was a very disturbing curiosity of mine. However, I thought about it as if I were painting a placid portrait. With a condensed swirl of inky charcoal paint here and streaks of midnight blue there. Some speckles both big, and small, of deep violet scattered across blackened canvas. A dark wretched centre where light cannot compete. All together, they create my version of death.

 In all my hours spent painting my deadly masterpiece, I never believed that I would come face to face with my creation.

 I knew along the way that something was odd when I peered up to the cloudy sky. A light breeze nips at my exposed ankles, but not a single branch moves. No leaves shivering, brushes don’t quiver. If you pursue silence, you never have to go too far in these parts. But, this was too quiet. An eerie stillness has swept over this land, removing any clamour from the woodland creatures. Only a soft pitter-patter of morning dew falls from fragrant pine-needles.

 Upon entering the glade, I leap over a small stream that flows before the doorway to my refuge. Wet grass licks at my ankles, reaching up to my calves. In the centre of the clearing sits a long since fallen, Douglas Fir tree. Moisture seeps through my clothing as old bark creaks and moss flattens under my weight.

 It is rotting, but that doesn’t matter. New life has sprouted on the carcass of the Fir: mosses, sweet lavender flowers, and some lethal fungus. Somehow, this makes my damp back seem trivial. With sealed eyes and the luminous sun warming my face: I lie on nature’s bed. My fingers graze through coarse, overgrown grass.

 Besides the collapsed Fir tree, nothing else is present within the clearing. Grand trees provide a protective barricade from the rest of a chaotic world. I observe natural serenity in the new and forgotten life of these woods. Serene: until I realize my refuge has been infiltrated. My neck cracks as I strain left to locate the epicentre of a vibrating, alien sound. An unnerving disturbance.

 A black orb with wispy edges hovers no more than ten feet from where I lie. My eyes bulge from their sockets, open so wide, they might fall out. I sit upright trying not to make any sudden movements, as the sphere equally as lethargic glides forward. It has significant height off the ground, approximately five feet.

 I cannot tell if it is staring back at me. With no visible eyes, ears, nor mouth, it might not even be sentient. If it is, they might be wondering why I don’t close my slack jaw as I stare in disbelief. Should I say something? I suppose I have nothing to lose by going first.

 “Hello?” my voice quiet, yet loud in clarity. The black globe advances closer, remaining steady as if testing the waters. It halts, only a couple feet away now. I tilt my head somewhat, awaiting an answer I doubtfully will receive.

 “Hello Davina, how are you?” the humming sound doesn’t cease as the monotone voice speaks with clarity. It didn't sound masculine or feminine. It has the genderless aura I had always imagined for ‘death.’

 I gulp down hard, my throat tightening along with my nerves. “I’m doing f-fine, albeit a bit concerned. H-how are you?” I reply with hesitancy. The constant hums lessen notably but don’t diminish.

 “I’m not here for you,” I sigh in relief, but the cannon in my chest still tries to blow through my rib cage. “Yet.”

 “Oh,” my gaze locks on the lethal globe. “Why are you here?” I pick at the gametophyte of some moss growing on the side of the Fir.

“You think about me quite often, Davina,” it spoke as if the fact were conspicuous. I mean… it is for me. How was I to know that it can read my thoughts?

 “You, as in…” I trail off, not wanting to assume anything. Which seems a little unnecessary since it probably already knows all my assumptions.

 “I am Death,” the silvery voice declares. Despite the dark and gruesome reputation, the voice of Death is a stark contrast.

 “What does that mean?” My inquiry was genuine, but I can’t help but feel embarrassed for even asking. It can’t be that simple.

 I always had a face for Death, but I never went into detail with a backstory. I never gave a meaning of my own to the entity. Furthermore, I never assumed that I could. The only objective I had was congruent with the noun itself. Death’s purpose is to take life, period.

 Blinding light peaks out through some white, fluffy clouds that pass by. I shiver then glance at my feet. My red Converse are muddy, and my left lace untied. My back arches as I bend down to remedy this as Death begins to answer my question.

 “Whatever you want it to mean. I am Death, Death is me, but death is whatever you want it to be. I materialize differently to everyone I take.” 

 “Whatever I want? I thought the protocol would be more precise. I didn’t expect much liberty in something so eternal.” My confession soft-spoken, and I struggle to contain my growing laundry list of questions.

 “Yes. It isn’t as set in stone as most people believe. You have more authority in regards to your death than you realize.” Death pauses, then continues to enlighten.

 “If you believe death is the end, then it is the end. But, if you fancy that there is more, then as a black hole, I can spit you out wherever your next destination is.” The neutral-toned voice finishes its fluent speech.

 Whatever I want? 

Does our Baby Boy Boba cry?

indeed he does! he cries after his father kills zam (though he tries to hide it from jango) and he cries after his father himself is killed.

@captainmunroe it's not letting me tag you in a reply so i’ll just make a new post lol

in the beginning, i think the best things you can do are to keep a dream journal (to improve dream recall and start to recognize common tells), practice regularly reality checking (i recommend pressing your index finger into your palm and checking for any visual distortion), and maybe trying to have a Wake Induced Lucid Dream.

to have a Wake Induced Lucid Dream (often called a WILD lol), all you really have to do is lie down and pretend to be asleep. breathe deeply and don't move. it will likely take some time (first one took me like 45 min, now it takes about 25 min), but your arms and legs will eventually start to go numb and you'll sink into partial sleep paralysis. you'll likely experience some form of hynogagic hallucination, which can vary from person to person. i usually hear a very loud, gunshot-like sound followed by a droning noise that gradually fades. then, it's just a matter of figuring out how to get out of bed and into the dream without waking yourself up.

i think the most important thing to keep in mind as a beginner is that none of it is real. nothing can hurt you and any unpleasantness you experience is very much temporary. getting into lucid dreaming often means your dreams (and nightmares) will become more vivid and memorable, you'll experience conscious sleep paralysis more often, and you'll likely get better acquainted with hypnogagic hallucinations as well. these can be frightening if you aren't used to them, but it's absolutely possible to keep your cool and treat them like the mundane annoyances they are. but that'll be harder to do if you approach them as if they're paranormal or "real."

also, protip: you can exit a dream or sleep paralysis more quickly if you breathe irregularly. for example, start to take shallow breaths interspersed with deep ones. in my experience, this almost always causes me to either wake up or at least reduce the "deepness" of the dream. useful if things get too intense early on and you need a breather!

:)

i will by radiohead

I will lay me down In a bunker underground I won't let this happen to my children Meet the real world coming out of your shell With white elephants, sitting ducks, I will rise up

Little baby's eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes Little baby's eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes Little baby's eyes, eyes, eyes