masterjedilenawrites

[masterjedilenawrites]

Tension, forbidden love, Crosshair taking control… Yes yes yes! 😍

The Alcove

Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

Things get tense after a moment of closeness in the heat of battle and tensions rise until the “dam” breaks.

The droids came around the corner—far too many for just the two of you to handle. Blaster fire echoed down the corridor, the sharp, repetitive bursts ringing in your ears.

 

“Dank Farrik,” Crosshair muttered, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a dark alcove just before the droids saw you.

 

You stumbled slightly as he pressed your back against the wall, positioning you behind him like a living shield. His body was taut with tension, his rifle held steady in one hand as his other reached out to steady you. The dark color of his armor blended seamlessly with the shadows, while your grey Jedi robes threatened to stand out like a beacon.

 

“Stay close,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly through the modulator of his helmet.

 

You obeyed without question, your breath catching as he turned and used his body to shield yours. The alcove was tight, forcing you so close that you could feel the solid, unyielding weight of him pressed against you. His gloved hands braced against the wall on either side of your shoulders, caging you in. His helmet dipped lower, his head close to yours, his visor turned toward the corridor.

 

Focus. Breathe. Calm. You repeated the mantra in your mind, desperate to regain control over the erratic rhythm of your heart. But it wasn’t the droids making your pulse quicken—it was him. The warmth of his body, the way his scent—blaster residue and something faintly metallic—seeped through the narrow space between you, filling your senses.

 

The sound of the droids’ footsteps began to fade, the clatter of their servos growing fainter until there was silence. You felt him shift slightly, his hands tightening momentarily before easing away from the wall. He didn’t move far, though. Your faces were still inches apart.

 

“General?” His voice, though filtered through the helmet, was softer now, more questioning.

 

You snapped back to reality, your lips parting to speak, though your voice betrayed your composure. “Y-Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.”

 

He didn’t move. He didn’t even acknowledge your words. Instead, he tilted his helmet slightly, studying you in a way that made your breath catch all over again. You wondered what his face was doing beneath that visor. Was he smirking? Frowning?

 

“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone laced with something that felt… heavier. Like he was asking about more than just the droids.

 

“I said I’m fine,” you replied quickly, too quickly. You wanted to sound decisive, authoritative, but your voice cracked slightly at the end. His closeness was unraveling you, and you hated that he could see it—or feel it.

 

Crosshair tilted his head again, as if weighing his next words carefully. Then, finally: “Your hands are shaking.”

 

You glanced down and cursed inwardly when you saw he was right. You hadn’t even noticed it, but your fingers were trembling slightly where they rested against your lightsaber hilt.

 

“It’s nothing,” you said, your voice a touch defensive as you quickly crossed your arms over your chest. “We’ve been under fire for hours. Anyone would be on edge.”

 

He didn’t respond immediately, and you swore you felt his gaze linger on your face for a second too long. “If you say so, General.”

 

Before you could respond, or overthink whatever his tone implied, he stepped back slightly, breaking the spell.

 

“Let’s go,” he said, scanning the corridor one last time. “We’re not out of this yet.”

 

The proximity was intoxicating, and you knew he could feel the way your chest rose and fell quicker than it should. The Force had always been a reliable guide, a constant presence to steady you in times of war, but right now, it felt distant, quiet—replaced by the pounding of your heart.

 

“General,” he said again, softer this time, as though testing your resolve. His voice carried that low, deliberate tone you’d come to recognize in him, like he always knew what to say without saying much at all.

 

You swallowed hard and nodded. “Let’s… let’s move.”

 

But as you tried to shift past him, his hand shot out, gently but firmly pressing you back against the wall. Your breath hitched as his gloved fingers rested just above your elbow.

 

“Wait,” he murmured, tilting his helmet slightly as if listening for something. His visor turned toward the end of the corridor, scanning for any sign of movement. You should’ve been doing the same—listening, sensing through the Force—but you couldn’t focus. Not with him this close.

 

When he finally let you go, the absence of his touch felt colder than it should have. He stepped out of the alcove first, his rifle raised and ready. His movements were calculated, silent, and you watched the way his body moved with precision, his broad shoulders a silhouette against the dim lighting.

 

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, forcing the heat creeping up your neck to subside. You were a Jedi Master, trained to master not only the Force but your emotions. This was a war zone and distractions, no matter how dark and piercing his voice or how close he stood to you, were a liability.

 

“Clear,” he called back over his shoulder, his voice all business now.

 

You stepped out behind him, igniting your lightsaber to cast a faint glow on the durasteel walls. “We need to make it to the rendezvous point before—”

 

“Before we’re overrun, I know.” He smirked beneath his helmet, his tone dry but tinged with that confidence he carried so effortlessly.

 

You rolled your eyes, even as your lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. “And here I thought your sharp tongue was reserved for battle droids.”

 

“Droids don’t blush.”

 

Your step faltered for half a second, but you recovered quickly, silently cursing him—and yourself.

 

“Eyes forward, trooper,” you said, falling into step beside him.

 

“Yes, General,” he replied, the smirk in his voice unmistakable.

 

And as the two of you moved deeper into enemy territory, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were fighting the wrong war.

 

 

The tension inside the Bad Batch’s ship was a palpable reminder of what they’d just survived. Hunter sat in the cockpit, quietly navigating them back to base, while Wrecker’s booming laugh filled the air as he recounted their mission highlights. Echo nodded along, though his tone was far more reserved as he tinkered with his arm. Tech was already hunched over a datapad, muttering about efficiency rates.

 

Crosshair sat at the far end of the room, leaned back in his seat with his rifle resting against the wall beside him. To anyone else, he appeared calm—aloof, even. But inside, his thoughts were anything but still.

 

That alcove.

 

He replayed the moment over and over in his mind—the way her breath had hitched when he pressed her against the wall, the way her lips had parted ever so slightly when she stammered her response. He hadn’t meant to linger so close, hadn’t meant to focus on the soft curve of her mouth or wonder what it would feel like against his own. But it had been impossible not to.

 

He gritted his teeth, scowling at the memory. This was dangerous. Reckless. They were already risking their lives for a galaxy that cared little for clones or Jedi. Adding this , whatever it was, to the mix was asking for trouble.

 

And yet… he couldn’t stop himself. She was strong, sharp, and fearless in battle. But in that moment, pressed so close he could feel her heartbeat against his chest, she’d been human . Vulnerable in a way that made him ache to protect her from everything, including himself.

 

Crosshair’s fingers tapped restlessly against his knee. He should say something, clear the air. But what could he possibly say? Sorry, General, for getting too close? Sorry for wanting to kiss you in the middle of a battlefield? No. He’d keep his distance. It was better that way. Safer.

 

 

Across the room, you sat in silence, meditating on the floor in the back of the Marauder.  Your hands resting in your lap as tried to take slow deep breaths, though your mind was far from still.

 

That alcove.

 

The heat of his body against yours had been seared into your memory. You could still feel the strength in the way he’d caged you in, his hands on either side of your shoulders, his presence overwhelming yet grounding. And his voice—soft, questioning, laced with something unspoken.

 

You squeezed your hands into fists, trying to suppress the flutter in your chest. Jedi weren’t supposed to feel this way. Attachments led to weakness, vulnerability. You’d been taught that from the beginning. But the Force had a funny way of testing you; of pulling you toward things or people you weren’t supposed to have.

 

You risked a glance toward him. He was leaned back, his posture relaxed but his jaw tight. His helmet rested beside him, and the sharp features of his face were unreadable. He didn’t look at you, didn’t acknowledge you, and that stung more than it should have.

 

You closed your eyes again, inhaling deeply. Focus. Control. But the memory of his closeness wouldn’t leave you. For years, you’d trusted the Force to guide you, but right now, it felt like it was pushing you straight toward him.

 

You have to stop this, you told yourself. It’s a distraction. You’re a Jedi. A General. He’s one of your men.

 

But the truth was undeniable: you wanted him. Needed him, even. You’d felt it in the way your heart had raced when his hand brushed your arm, in the way your mind had whispered his name in quiet moments. You could feel eyes on you and risked opening your own.

 

Across the room, Crosshair shifted, his sharp eyes flicking toward you for the briefest of moments. When your gazes met, your breath caught. It wasn’t long, barely a second, but it felt like an eternity.

 

He looked away just as quickly, his expression neutral. But you didn’t miss the way his hand tightened around the strap of his rifle, his knuckles white against the black leather.

 

In the cockpit, Hunter glanced over his shoulder, his sharp senses picking up on the tension hanging thick in the air. He frowned slightly but said nothing, his instincts telling him this wasn’t the time to interfere.

 

You shifted uncomfortably on the floor, your mind racing. You couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d pressed close, the way his voice had softened, the way he’d made you feel. It wasn’t just physical. It was deeper, a connection you couldn’t explain, couldn’t sever.

 

And judging by the way his shoulders were set, the tension radiating from him like heat, he felt it too.

 

 

The ship hummed quietly around you as you stood in the dimly lit hull. The others were with the Kaminoans getting their routine check ups for the next hour or more. You were taking this time to take stock of inventory and write your logs. It had been about 20 minutes of silence before the ships door opened. In walked the one person you had been trying to stay away from. Crosshair. You had been avoiding this moment, avoiding him, but Crosshair wasn’t one to let things linger.

You made to move out of his way and walk out of the ship but h e stepped into your path, his tall, lean frame blocking your escape. His helmet was off, revealing his sharp features. His expression was unreadable, but his golden-brown eyes burned with an intensity you couldn’t ignore. You took a few steps back into the ship and watched with a racing heart as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. 

The two of you completely alone. 

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low, firm.

You sighed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as if it would somehow protect you from what you knew was coming. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped, his tone cutting through your defenses. “Not after what happened back there.”

Your chest tightened, the memory of the alcove rushing back in vivid detail. “Crosshair—”

 

“Don’t.” He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t push me away. Not this time.”

 

You felt the walls closing in, your heart pounding in your ears. You tried to summon the calm, steady focus that had always been your strength as a Jedi, but it wouldn’t come.

“Jedi aren’t supposed to form attachments,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Attachments?” His lips curled into a faint, bitter smirk. “Is that what you call it?”

 

“Yes,” you said, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “It’s dangerous. For both of us. If the Council found out, I could be expelled from the Order. And the Kaminoans—” You swallowed hard. “I don’t even want to think about what they’d do to you.”

 

Crosshair’s expression darkened. “Do you think I give a damn about any of that?”

 

“Cross—”

“No.” He stepped even closer, and before you could look away, his hand was under your chin, tilting your face toward his. His touch was surprisingly gentle, belying the storm in his eyes. “Look at me.”

 

Your breath hitched, and you hesitated, but the weight of his gaze pulled you in.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t do feel it,” he said, his voice rough, raw, as though the words had been torn from his very soul.

 

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. The truth was a heavy, unyielding presence between you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to deny it.

“I… I can’t,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The tension crackled in the air like a live wire, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat echoing in your own chest.

 

“Then stop running,” he said, his tone softening but losing none of its urgency. “Stop pretending this doesn’t exist, because you and I both know it does.”

 

Tears stung your eyes, and you shook your head weakly. “Crosshair, I—this isn’t just about us. It’s about the war, the people we’re trying to protect. If I let this happen…if I let myself fall. How can I lead? How can I keep you safe?”

 

“You don’t have to protect me,” he said firmly, his hand still cradling your chin. “I’ve spent my whole life fighting battles I didn’t choose. But this? This is my choice. And I choose you.”

 

The words shattered something inside you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to feel the weight of them. The depth of his devotion, his unwavering belief in what the two of you could be, even in the face of everything.

 

“Do you know what you’re asking of me?” you said, your voice trembling.

 

“I’m asking you to let yourself feel,” he replied. “To stop hiding behind rules and orders and admit what’s real.”

 

He took a step closer to you before softly saying “Don’t push me away.”

 

His thumb brushed lightly against your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. You felt the Force hum faintly around you, not as a warning but as something almost… encouraging.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, the words barely audible.

 

“I know,” he said softly. “But I’m not.” His hands moved to either side of your face as he brought you in for a desperate kiss. Your back hit the wall with a groan that was covered by his mouth. One of his hands went to your waist while the other moved to tangle in your hair.

 

Warmth spread all over your body as he pressed himself closer to you.

A low noise escaping Crosshair’s throat as you gripped his chest plate and pulled him even closer. This was something you had only dreamed about but never let yourself hope you could have.. have him.

The kiss was intense but wonderful all at the same time. And for the first time you could feel the walls you’d so carefully built begin to crumble.

 

And in that moment, you knew you couldn’t deny it anymore. Whatever this was, this impossible, forbidden connection, it was as undeniable as the Force itself.

[masterjedilenawrites]

If anyone’s wondered where I’ve been lately, I uh… discovered the band Sleep Token 😬 I’ve been incapable of thinking about anything else for the past 3 weeks.

Me listening to their music every day in 100 degree weather:

[masterjedilenawrites]

I can’t wait for the fic that I’m going to write after this fic I’m not writing because I still have to finish another fic (which I can’t seem to focus on).

[masterjedilenawrites]

Hello! This is Carol (@clonethirstingisreal), and I know you know how much I love your Batch Family fics. But they've been making me so emotional lately. That Crosshair one yesterday tore me up! Maybe I'm just more emotional the past few months, I don't know, but I am so caught up in that AU.

"Caught up" isn't a good way to say it. I can't think of how to say it. There's only so many ways to say "I love this so much." But that's what I'm trying to convey, but in better words. And I'm failing at that.

I enjoy going back to the other boys' fics and comparing how something looked from Hunter's point of view as opposed to how it looked from Crosshair's point of view. I know it's not the exact same events described in each boy's "day", but their feelings are very similar throughout.

That feeling that Hunter has of needing his brothers to be together and doing the same thing all the time. Even as a little kid he wanted to take care of them and keep them safe. Almost like if they were all doing the same things, then he would always see them and know they were okay, but when they start going their separate ways, his anxiety starts to spike about them.

But to the others, especially Crosshair, it feels like he's bossing them around all the time. He's not taking their ideas and feelings into consideration.

I was reading parts of Echo's again last night, and when Hunter called him to ask if he should get a dog...well, he just wanted to talk to his brother. But Echo was so annoyed, like leave me alone, Hunter. We need to live our own lives. And I can just imagine the hurt Hunter felt. And then to think how that's what happened in the show. Echo needed to go his own way and do things without the rest of them, because they were on a different path. You translate events or themes or feelings from the show into this AU so well.

I'm rambling, but I just wanted you to know how much I'm still loving this family and your AU.

(But if I don't know who Beth marries within a year, I might lose my mind. ;)

Just kidding.

Don't feel like you have to post this. It was just too long for DMs.

I so appreciate you sharing all your thoughts/feels about the series! 🥰 Sometimes I feel like a crazy person for caring so much about these characters, glad to have you along for the emotional ride with me! lol

It’s been fun, and a little challenging (in a good way), to take the themes from the show and explore them through a lens of childhood/coming of age. In some ways, it almost helps make more sense of the original characters and their dynamics.

I actually ended up writing a scene for Crosshair’s story that I ended up setting aside, where he and Hunter have a true heart-to-heart about their differences. It’s like you said, they both mean well but have different perspectives that the other doesn’t understand. But I think that talk needs to have its own story… and there’s some other things I want to write first that really show how the tensions escalate. 😬

Also lmao I totally don’t mean to keep you in suspense on Beth’s love life! 😅 I just love her so much so I really want to give her a lovely romance. I’ll be working on the stories that will lead up to the reveal next, no promises on a timeline but I’m excited to reach that part too 😉😆

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Batch Family: The Seventh Day of July

A peek into Crosshair's life on July 7th through the years.

Part of my AU "The Batch Family" [Collection Masterlist]

Word count: 3.6k | Batch ages: Multiple

Note: Last but not least, we have some Crosshair stories. He's a dramatic little bitch, but we love him. And thankfully he has plenty of people who love him throughout his life, even when his difficulties with communication and emotional processing make it hard sometimes 🖤

Four years old

"Bath time!"

A chorus of cheers and a pounding of feet rang out around Crosshair as his brothers shuffled out of the kitchen and raced down the hall toward the bathroom. Crosshair, however, did not join them. He stood with his arms folded and tried to put on his best angry face.

"Don't wanna."

"Come on, Cross!" Mom said cheerfully, putting a hand on his shoulder to try coaxing him forward.

"No!" he pouted further.

Commotion could be heard from the other side of the house, his brothers probably fighting over which toys to take into the bath. His mom sighed and quickly scooped him up, causing Crosshair to start whining in protest.

"Don't wanna!" he wailed into her neck.

"It's bathtime, Cross. You boys love bathtime." His mom's voice rumbled softly against him as she carried him toward the source of his anxiety.

The other boys loved bathtime. Crosshair hated it. The tub was small. Wrecker would always splash him even when he told him not to. Hunter wouldn't let him play with the toys he wanted to play with. And when it was over, he'd have to stand there wet and cold, waiting for Mom to dry the others before getting to him. He was always last.

He hated it.

"Don't like it," he continued to whine as Mom eventually set him down in the bathroom and instructed him to take his clothes off. She turned around to help Echo, whose head was stuck inside his shirt.

"Cross, you be the... the... triceratops." Hunter pushed through the crowded bathroom to give him one of their toys.

This, of course, made Crosshair even more mad. They played dinosaurs last time. He'd wanted to be the T-Rex but Hunter was the T-Rex. He'd said he could have it next time.

Crosshair watched as his Mom started filling up the tub and Wrecker tried to stick his toes in and Tech and Echo traded their toys and Hunter talked over all of them. They were all crazy. He didn't want to be here anymore.

"Cross, clothes," Mom glanced at him with a knowing look.

"No! I'm running away!" Crosshair replied.

But she had already turned away to stop Wrecker from getting in the tub.

"Wreck, I told you, the water's too hot right now, you have to wait!"

"Wreck... Wreck... look! Look!" Hunter held up his T-Rex and made the tail wiggle. Everyone fell into a fit of giggles.

No one was paying attention to him. So Crosshair left.

He pattered down the hall to his room and got his pillow. He wanted to take his blankie, too, but it was too big and he didn't want to drag it on the ground and get it dirty. He also grabbed a book, a small box of crayons, and his shoes before toddling back out into the hall. Everyone was still in the bathroom making a ruckus.

He knew the front door would be locked, but he had an idea. He had stood on top of a chair once and felt really tall, so all he needed was to get a chair and he could reach the lock on top of the door. He gently set his things down and got to work.

By the time he heard the water abruptly shut off and his mom and brothers call his name, he was scooting a kitchen chair the last few feet toward the door.

"Crossy, where you going?" asked Wrecker, buck naked.

"Ooh, Cross in trouuuble!" gasped Hunter, who at least had a towel wrapped around his shoulders.

The others started chanting trouble over and over. Mom promptly shushed them as she finally came on the scene.

"Boys, go play in your rooms, please."

"Is Crossy in trouuuuble?

"No, I just need to talk to him."

"Trouble!"

"Trouuuuble!"

"Boys!" Mom snapped. It wasn't too mean, but they weren't used to it, so they all fell into a hush. "Go to your rooms now. And don't leave until I come for you."

Hunter led them away, looking back over his shoulder until they disappeared around the corner.

Meanwhile, Crosshair had proceeded to get his chair in place anyway and was now standing on top of it. He reached up, went all the way on his tiptoes, even though it was scary, but still couldn't reach the top lock. He lowered himself down with a distressed wail.

Mom crouched in front of him, her steady hands resting on his arms.

"Where are you going, sweetheart? Hm? Why are you running away?"

"I don't wanna take a bath!" he sobbed. "Don't wanna... tri... cer... tops... Wrecker... splash me... too cold... Don't wanna..."

He blabbered on and on while Mom ran her hands up and down his arms.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she said once he started calming down. "I know bathtime is a lot. I... I'm trying..."

Crosshair looked up at her as she sighed. She looked like she wanted to say something else but then turned her head away. After a moment, she took notice of the items he had gathered for his grand escape and looked back at him with a smile.

"You packed a book?"

Crosshair sniffled and wiped at his nose. "For bedtime."

They always read a story at bedtime.

"And crayons?"

"I write you a letter."

She chuckled and helped him dry the rest of his tears. Then she brought him forward to hold him tightly against her. She was warm and smelled like a bubble bath.

"Please don't ever, ever run away from me. That would break my heart. Just talk to me next time you're upset, okay? I can help you. I'll make sure there's no splashing. And that you're never cold. And everyone will take turns with the T-Rex. Okay?"

"Okay," he mumbled into her. That made him feel better.

- - -

Nine years old

"Mom?"

Crosshair stood anxiously in the crack of the bedroom door, shifting from one foot to the other as he listened for a reply. He could see the outline of her body curled up beneath the covers. But no sounds. She was probably fast asleep.

Grandma and Grandpa had been very strict that none of them should disturb their mother while she was sick in bed. But Grandma was busy in the kitchen and Grandpa had fallen asleep on the couch. And his brothers were still outside; they hadn't followed him. The thought made his lip wobble. They didn't care.

He took a step back, prepared to quietly close the door and go to his room for a cry all by himself. But then the sheets on the bed shifted and he heard his name.

"Cross? What's wrong?" his mom's voice rasped out.

She sounded very sick. He remembered the last time he'd been sick and felt bad. He didn't want to disturb her.

"Nothing, Momma, I'm sorry."

He could see his mom's eyes poking out of the blankets, fully open and watching him. She moved the blankets a bit, creating a pocket for him to crawl into.

"Come here, sweetheart."

He only hesitated a moment before running over and crawling onto the bed next to her. She felt really warm, but he didn't mind. He rested his head on the pillow just beside hers and she let the blankets fall over them.

"What's bothering you?"

Crosshair wasn't sure how to say it. There were a lot of things that bothered him, but he'd been learning for a while that his opinions didn't really matter. No one ever listened, or if they did, they were quick to tell him he was wrong. He was being too selfish, or too scared, or too stupid. Only Mom would listen, but she was always so busy. And she always got so worried about things.

"You can talk to me. It's okay," she whispered. She ran her hand through his hair a few times. "Is it about your brothers?"

It was like she could read his mind. Crosshair gulped and nodded. He didn't want to look her in the eye.

"Do you love your brothers?"

He nodded again. He really did.

"And you know they love you, too, right?"

This time he didn't nod. He traced his finger along the striped pattern of the pillowcase and tried to hold back his tears.

"Right?" she asked again.

"Hunter doesn't."

He said it really, really quietly. He was afraid it had been too quiet and he really didn't want to say it again. He didn't want anyone to get in trouble, and he didn't want his mom to worry. But it was the truth and it made him sad.

After a few moment of silence, Mom brought her hand back up to run through his hair again.

"Why do you think that?"

Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought about it. He wasn't sure he could say it all out loud, but he gave it a try.

"He never picks my ideas," he whimpered. "Everyone else gets to have ideas but Hunter never picks mine. He says they're bad and I'm not any fun."

Her thumb brushed away some of the tears that had escaped onto his cheeks as he told his story. He still refused to look at her. He fully expected her to tell him he was being silly or to get upset that they weren't getting along. But she stayed quiet for a little while, just rubbing her thumb along his temple. Eventually he braved a glance up and found she was looking at him. Not mad, not upset. Maybe a little tired. But kind.

"Sounds like he really hurt your feelings."

He nodded.

"Come here, sweetheart." She scooted closer and tucked his head beneath hers. Her skin was practically radiating through her clothes with heat. Crosshair found it oddly comforting.

"You should talk to your brothers. Tell them how you feel."

He cringed. He didn't like hearing that. It wasn't easy to share his feelings, especially to Hunter. What if he laughed at him? Or called him a sissy? Or worse, didn't listen to him at all?

"You don't have to to talk today," she said. "But someday... Someday, you'll talk to them and you'll figure it out. Because you love each other...."

Her voice was getting softer, sleepier. Crosshair let her drift off back to sleep while he pondered over her words.

- - -

Fourteen years old

"Meow, meow."

Crosshair shook the bag of treats, waiting for the answer to his call. Within seconds, the familiar mews and trills came rushing over. He crouched in the narrow gap between his fence and the neighbor's, settling into a well-worn divot in the ground as his little friend began rubbing all over.

"Been a while, Cat," he said, shaking out a few treats onto the ground. He watched as the scraggly feline munched on them. "Where've you been? Huh? Where've you been?"

He ran his hand along her back, scratching at some of the pine needles and barbs tangled up in her fur. He made a mental note to find a way to get a brush for the poor thing. She seemed more matted every time he saw her.

"Me? Yeah, I've been busy too. Got a summer job. It's pretty lame."

The cat plopped down next to him and started rolling in the dirt. He ran a tentative hand over her belly, managing to pet a bit of her fur until she curled in and tried to bite his hand. He snatched it away in time.

"Okay, okay, geez. I won't do that again. Promise."

The cat went back to rolling around.

Crosshair rested his head against the fence and sighed.

"School's starting again next month. Sophomore. I really hope it's better than being a Freshman. School sucks. At least there's soccer, though. Tech might get to play more this year. Maybe that'll help him feel good again. Though, Wrecker doesn't seem as excited. Don't know what that's about. I'm sure Hunter will get to the bottom of it. He hates it when we don't do the same things."

The cat rolled over so she was sitting next to him in a little loaf. He looked down and laughed.

"You're all dirty now. Look at you."

He started petting her again, trying to wipe some of the dirt and leaves off her fur.

"Do you have any brothers, Cat? Are they as crazy as mine?"

The cat started purring. He continued to pet her for a while. Slow, gentle strokes across her fur. Slow, careful inhales of breath as he let his mind wander. It had been a hot day, but now that the sun was setting, a cool breeze was starting to pick up. He thought about all the usual things on his mind, as well as plenty of other topics that crept in. He voiced some of them out loud, sharing details with his friend, Cat, and always asking her a question in return. She responded with more purrs and the occasional meow.

When the shadows on the ground grew long enough to turn into twilight, Crosshair finally stood. The cat joined him, but turned in the opposite direction.

"Good talkin' to ya, Cat. I'll put some food out for you later tonight. See ya."

Cat chirped and disappeared into the bushes.

- - -

Nineteen years old

"Psst! Crosshair. Buddy. Come look!"

Whispers cut through Crosshair's sleep, making him mumble in protest. He tried to roll over but someone was opening up his sleeping bag and continuing to whisper.

"Come on, long legs. You'll thank me later."

Crosshair flinched at the sudden gust of cold air that hit his body. He blinked around the darkened dorm in confusion, wondering why on earth it was so cold in July. Then he saw the guy who'd been whispering at him, shaking his coat from the doorway like he was dangling a carrot, and it all came back to him. Summer internship in Canada for wildlife conservation. Arrangements courtesy of Echo, who'd somehow convinced him to take this over the Australian one. His brother was probably getting a tan and making friends with kangaroos right now. The bastard.

Crosshair huffed as he forced himself up and quickly stuffed his feet into his boots. He hurried after the cabin leader, Mayday, hoping to snatch his coat before he was led any further away from his warm cocoon of a sleeping bag. But Mayday was fast. He followed him all the way outside of the cabin and into pile of freshly fallen snow so thick it went up to their knees.

"Get away from the heat, they said. It'll be fun, they said," Crosshair grumbled to himself.

"Shh!" Mayday said unhelpfully as he made a path through the snow to the deck of the main cabin. He still held onto Crosshair's coat so he had no choice but to continue to follow him.

They finally caught up on the stairs to the deck. Crosshair snatched the coat away with a muttered asshole and quickly wrapped himself up in it. He was still fucking freezing but the added layer did seem to help.

"Look!" Mayday practically tiptoed across the deck, carefully avoiding its creakiest spots. He leaned against the farthest railing, the one that overlooked a small valley. White snow hugged every slope and dip, eventually transitioning into an icy blue frozen lake. Snow-kissed trees lined the horizon. It almost looked like a painting.

Crosshair slid up beside him, confused. "It's... nice?"

Mayday chuckled lowly. "Not the scenery, you idiot. The birds."

They were tiny dots at first, but eventually their swooping and soaring brought them close enough for Crosshair to identify them. He couldn't remember the species name, some kind of rare vulture. He'd seen photos in the cabin hallways and had heard the stories.

"I thought Nolan said their migration path wouldn't come this way," Crosshair said softly, his breaths visible between each word.

"Nolan is a pompous prick who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Never listen to him."

He saw Mayday glance over at him briefly and then cross his arms over his chest.

"I know it might be kinda silly. But you seem more open to the experience than the others, so I thought..."

He shrugged and Crosshair realized the man was a little embarrassed. He wasn't sure why. Mayday was several years older and one of the coolest people Crosshair had ever met. He had scars and tattoos and a full-grown beard. Crosshair could barely get an outline of a mustache. It'd only been a few days and already he'd taught the group how to start fires, hunt game, and dig themselves out of a (hypothetical) avalanche. To see him also be self-conscious over something like this was surprising.

"No, it's... it's... cool." Crosshair struggled to find the right words. He always did.

But Mayday seemed okay with the answer. He unfolded his arms and nodded.

"Yeah. It is cool." Then an idea seemed to occur to him and he brought out his phone. "Here, turn around. I'll try to get a good shot."

He pointed the phone at him, clearly indicating he would take a picture. Now it was Crosshair's turn to feel self-conscious. He stood awkwardly with his back toward the railing.

"And we won't show Nolan until the last day. That'll really piss him off."

Crosshair smirked just as Mayday snapped the pic.

- - -

Twenty-four years old

"Uncle Crosshair! Hi!"

Crosshair let a little groan escape but didn't open his eyes just yet. His niece's voice was far enough way that it'd take a few moments for her to make her way over. He tried to take advantage of the little time he had left to get back into his meditative state.

"Hi there, Uncle Crosshair."

It felt like no time had passed before she finally arrived. He could feel her hovering, panting slightly from the climb up the hill. He kept his groans on the inside this time and cracked one eye open.

"Omega," he briefly acknowledged before shutting his eye again. He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate now but still kept up the charade.

"What are you doing?"

He heard shuffling as she sat down next to him. Her knee rested right up against his.

"There's enough dirt over there," he grumbled while titling his head slightly in gesture.

"Oh. Sorry." She scooted herself just far enough away so their knees were no longer touching but he could still feel her body heat nearby. "What are we doing?"

We now, was it? God, children were so annoying. He had no idea why Hunter felt the need to adopt one.

"I'm meditating," he mumbled, drawing in a long, deep inhale in demonstration.

He let the breath out slowly through his mouth. Once he'd finished, he heard the girl mimicking his actions. He couldn't help but squint over at her. She'd arranged herself in the same criss cross applesauce position he was in, hands resting up and open atop her knees. Her back, though, was severely hunched over. Kids these days...

"Sit up straight," he instructed. "Breathe through your belly, not your chest."

She did as she was told and took another breath.

"This is fun," she said with a grin. "I like meditating."

Crosshair rolled his eyes and turned back to face forward. The rising sun was growing stronger, casting warm and brilliant rays across the rippling ocean water. His mom had picked a good spot for their family vacation this year, he had to admit. He almost hadn't come. It'd been a rough year. His therapist had insisted it'd do him good to get some coastal air... and be around family again. He still wasn't sure about the last part, but he was trying to keep an open mind.

"What is meditating for?" Omega asked.

He could feel her looking at him but he kept his gaze trained ahead. He took in another breath, not as deep this time, just to buy himself the time to think of his answer. "It helps me heal."

"Heal from what?"

"I... used to drink a lot." Hunter would probably be upset with such honesty, but Crosshair didn't know what else to say. His therapist had been helping him open up and name his feelings, not how to sugarcoat them for a kid.

"Oh. Like alcohol?"

Crosshair hummed. "There were things I didn't want to think about. Drinking helped distract me. But it wasn't healthy. So now I meditate, instead. It helps me... find peace."

"Hunter says my parents drank, too," said Omega. Crosshair looked over at her in surprise. "That's why they couldn't take care of me, anymore. But it's okay, because now Hunter gets to be my dad. He's really great."

Crosshair couldn't find it within him to scoff at that, even though he likely would have in different circumstances. He suddenly felt bad about the way he'd been treating this poor girl. It was the way he'd been treating everyone for a while - holding them at arm's length. Seeing them as a nuisance to himself rather than the unique person they were.

"Are you ever going to be a dad?"

Now he had to scoff at that. Thankfully she didn't seem to want to dwell on the previous depressing topic.

"God, no."

"Why not? It'd be nice if I had a cousin."

He smirked at her in amusement. "Guilt trips don't work on me, kid. Your other uncles, though..."

Omega giggled.

"I'm glad I finally got to meet you, Uncle Crosshair. You're really cool."

Though he was shaking his head and rolling his eyes, an embarrassed warmth still crept up on the bad of his neck. He made a show of repositioning himself into his pose, even though he hadn't really left it.

"Whatever. Now are you going to let me finish my meditation or not?"

Omega had fallen out of position so she quickly got herself back to mirror him. And surprisingly, she stayed quiet, matching her breaths with his as they watched the sun continue to rise.

Every Story Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @Sleepycreativewriter, @cw80831, @cdblake1565, @msmeredithrose The Batch Family Tag: @KaijuSplotch, @marvel-starwars-nerd, @lackofhonor, @flowered-bicycles, @techie-bear, @skellymom, @thecoffeelorian, @swgirlie

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[masterjedilenawrites]

My surgery went well! And my recovery is so far so good. Thanks to everyone who sent me well-wishes 🥰

Life Update

In case anyone’s missed seeing more activity on this blog lately, I apologize. I’ll be undergoing surgery on the 30th so my free time this month has been in preparation for that! (It’s a voluntary procedure that I’m actually looking forward to, though any prayers/thoughts/vibes you can send my way that day would be appreciated 🤗) I don’t anticipate having a done-read list for June, but I have a large to-read list that I’ll likely make a good dent in while I’m recovering… and hopefully I’ll have some energy to work on some WIPs too. 🤞

[masterjedilenawrites]

idk how to word this properly but wrt the fanfic thing you reblogged earlier. Why do fanfic writers have such different expectations than any other content hosting platform?

Like lets take youtube as a point of comparison, Engagement like comments and likes largely exists to boost the works place in algorithm, thats why youtubers put in calls to action and other engament bait. Few with decent reach even read the comments and the audience shouldnt try to develop any weird parasocial relationship with the youtuber. Fanfic authors ask for likes (kudos, because the websites gotta use nonstandard language for some reason) and comments despite them not having any impact on an algorithm, and seem to want the audience to try and develop a relationship with the author based on tumblr posts like that one.

Why the radical difference in behaviour away from the norm? And honestly with all the (usually) metaphorical blood spilled online about parasociality why are authors really surprised that the audience tries to keep their distance as is best practice with any other content producer?

okay I am going to answer this as kindly and as calmly as I can and try to assume that you are asking this in good faith. because my friend, the fact that you feel the need to ask is, to me, The Problem.

[this is, for the record, in response to this post]

fanfiction writers are not *posting content.* (I also have reservations about engaging with the term "content producer" or "content creator" but let's put that aside for now, I'll circle back to it.) you say "they seem to want the audience to try and develop a relationship with the author" as though it is strange, off-putting, and incomprehensible to you, when in fact that is the point of writing fanfiction. it is a way of participating in fandom. it is a way of building community and exchanging ideas and becoming closer with people.

if authors wanted to solely ~generate content~ that would get them attention (?? to what end, the dynamic you have described seems to equate algorithmic supremacy as winning for winning's sake, as though all anyone wants to do is BUILD an audience without ENGAGING with them, which I cannot fathom but let's pretend for a moment that is, in fact, true) then like. if that were the case why on earth would they choose a medium in which they categorically cannot succeed and profit, because it isn't their IP?

you are equating two things that are not at all the same thing. to the degree that parasocial relationships are to be avoided, and "that person is not trying to be your friend they are trying to entertain you, please respect their boundaries" is a real dynamic -- which it is!! -- like. you have to understand that the reason that is true for the people of whom it is true is because it is their JOB. they are storytellers by profession, and they are either through direct payment, or sponsorship, or advertising, or through some other means, profiting off of your attention. i don't say this to be dismissive, many wonderful artists and actors and comedians and any number of a thousand things that i enjoy very much go this route but they do so as a *career choice.* and so when you violate the public/private boundary with them, you are presuming to know a Person rather than their Worksona. the people who work at Dropout or who stream their actual play tabletop games or who broadcast on TikTok or YouTube are inviting me to feel like i know them to the degree to which that helps them succeed in their medium and at their craft, but there MUST be a mutual understanding that that's a feeling, not a fact.

however.

a fanfiction writer is not an influencer, not a professional, and is not looking to garner "success." there is no share of audience we are trying to gain for gain's sake, because we are not competition with one another, because there is nothing to win other than the pleasure of each other's company. we are doing this for no other reason than the love of the game; because we have things we want desperately to say about these worlds, these characters, these dynamics, and because we *want more than anything to know we are not alone in our thoughts and feelings.* fanfiction is a bid for interaction, engagement, attention, and consideration. it is not meant to be consumed and then moved on from because we are NOT paid for our work, nor do we want to be. the reward we seek is "attention," but attention as in CONVERSATION, not attention as in clicks. we are not IN this for profit, or for number-go-up. there is no such thing: legally there cannot be. we are in this because we want to be seen and known.

like. please understand. i am now married to someone i met because of mutual comments on fanfiction. our close friend and roommate, with whom i have cohabitated for over a decade now, is someone I met because of mutual comments on fanfiction and livejournal posts. that is my household. beyond my household, the vast majority of my closest personal friends are people with whom I built relationships in this way.

you ask why fanfiction writers want THIS and not "the norm," but the idea of everything being built to cater to an algorithm to continue to build clout, as though the only method of reaching people is Distant Overlord Creator and Passive Receptive Audience being "the norm" is EXTREMELY NEW. this is not how it has always been!! please think of the writers of zines in a pre-internet fandom, using paper and glue and xerox to try and meet like-minded people in a world that was designed for you to only ever meet people in person, by happenstance, in your own hometown. imagine the writers of the early internet, building webrings from scratch to CREATE a community to find each other, despite distance. imagine livejournal groups, forums, and -- yes, indeed, of course -- comment threads IN STORIES -- as places where people go to *converse.* in the past, we had an entire Type Of Guy that everyone knew about, the BNF ("Big Name Fan") whose existence had to be described via meme because it was SO DIFFERENT THAN THE NORM. treating fellow fans like celebrities or people too cool for the regular kids to know was an OUTLIER, and one commonly understood to lead to toxicity.

in the past, I have likened writing fanfiction to echolocation. i am not screaming because I like hearing the sound of my own voice, though i can and do find my voice beautiful. i am screaming so that the vibrations can bounce back to me and show me the world. the purpose is in the feedback. otherwise it is just noise.

does this make any sense? can you see, when i describe it that way, why an ask like yours makes me feel despair, because it makes us all sound so horribly separate from one another?

perhaps I will try another metaphor:

a professional chef who runs a restaurant will not have her feelings hurt if you never fight your way into the kitchen to personally tell her how much you enjoyed the meal. that would, indeed, violate a boundary. professional kitchens are a place of work, and you have already showed her you enjoyed the meal by paying for it, or by perhaps spreading your enjoyment by word of mouth to your friends so they, too, can have good meals. you show your appreciation by continuing to come back. if a bunch of people sitting around randomly happen to have a conversation about how much they love the food, it wouldn't hurt that chef's feelings to not be included in the conversation. however: EVEN IN THIS INSTANCE, it is ADVISABLE AND APPROPRIATE to leave a good review! you might post about how much you like this restaurant on Yelp, and it would probably make the chef feel great to see those positive comments. but the chef doesn't NEED them, because the chef is, again, *also being paid to cook.* that's why she started the restaurant, to be paid to cook!

i am not being paid to cook.

i am at home in my own kitchen, making things for a community potluck where i hope everyone will bring something we can all enjoy together. some people at the potluck are better bakers, some better cooks; some can't cook at all but are great at logistics and make sure there's enough napkins for everyone; some people come just to enjoy the food, because that's what the party is for. and if I, as this enthusiast chef who made something from my heart for this reason alone, learned after the fact that a bunch of people got together in the parking lot to rave about my dish but no one of them had ever bothered to tell me while I sat alone at my table all night, occasionally seeing people come by to pick up a plate but never saying anything to me -- of course that would bother me, because I am not otherwise profiting off the labor I put in. this is not a bid to be paid, because if someone WERE to say "hey, great cake!! here's five bucks for a slice" i would say no, friend, that is not the point and give them the money back. i'm not trying to Get Mine. I am in it to see the look on your face. I'm in it so you can tell me what about it moved you, so that I can say back what moved me to make it in the first place. so we can TALK about it.

because what happened in the first place is this: one time I had a cake whose sweetness, richness, flavor, intensity, and composition moved me so much that I *taught myself to bake.* so I could see how much vanilla and sugar was too much, so I could learn how to make things rise instead of fall flat, so I could even better appreciate the original cake by seeing for myself the effort and talent and inspiration that goes into making one even half as good.

learning to do so is a satisfying accomplishment in and of itself, yes.

but I also did it because at the end of the day we should EAT the cake. and it's a lonely thing, to eat alone when a meal was always designed and intended to be shared.

so, to answer your last question: i'm not surprised, i'm just sad. because somehow two things that were never meant to be seen as the same have been labeled "content," and thus identical. and it diminishes both the things that ARE intended to be paid for AND the things that are not, because it removes any sense of intimacy or meaning from the work.

i hope you know i'm not mad at you for asking. but i'm frustrated we've come to live in a world where the question needs to be asked, because the answers are no longer intuitively obvious because we're so siloed.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Life Update

In case anyone’s missed seeing more activity on this blog lately, I apologize. I’ll be undergoing surgery on the 30th so my free time this month has been in preparation for that! (It’s a voluntary procedure that I’m actually looking forward to, though any prayers/thoughts/vibes you can send my way that day would be appreciated 🤗) I don’t anticipate having a done-read list for June, but I have a large to-read list that I’ll likely make a good dent in while I’m recovering… and hopefully I’ll have some energy to work on some WIPs too. 🤞

[masterjedilenawrites]

for the one sentence ask game

"This is your fault, I told you we should've brought more explosives."

Wrecker frowned; usually he was the one complaining about such things.

"I told you, Omega, we're just sending a message, not trying to blow the whole place up."

"You're no fun," she mumbled.

He cringed at her disapproval. When had he gotten so... old?

Thanks for the prompt anon!

Send me the first sentence and I’ll write the next five (ish).

[masterjedilenawrites]

For the sentence ask game

"Well, isn't this is a surprise. Didn't think we'd ever see you alive again."

Crosshair folded his arms across his chest and plopped in a toothpick, a playful smirk dancing across his features. Omega shook herself free from staring at the sudden figure in the doorway and looked up at her other brother in alarm, baffled at how casual he was acting, how he didn't actually seem surprised at all.

"A surprise?" she half-breathed, half-shrieked. "Crosshair, this is a... a miracle!"

"Oh please. Didn't Tech tell you he'd been working on jet propulsion boots?"

Thanks for the prompt anon!

Send me the first sentence and I’ll write the next five (ish).

[masterjedilenawrites]

For the first sentence ask:

"Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range."

Howzer couldn’t help but let a smirk show, pleased with this comeback. However, the newcomer didn’t seem as impressed, merely folding his arms across his chest and continuing to stare.

“Do I look like I’m scared of a fight?”

“Stand down, Howzer,” Rex suddenly appeared with a knowing look. He then turned to the other clone, softening just a bit as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Welcome back, Wolffe.”

Thanks for the prompt friend! I think I went a little over too lol 🤭

Send me the first sentence and I’ll write the next five (ish).

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Batch Family: The Sixth Day of June

A peek into Tech's life on June 6th through the years.

Part of my AU "The Batch Family" [Collection Masterlist]

Word count: 3.5k | Batch ages: Multiple

Note: A few things fell right into place with Tech's stories - some intentionally and others more unexpectedly. I promise the armadillo will make sense at a certain point, with a specific reference... but also, if you know anything about armadillo personalities, you may see some parallels with Tech's 🧡

Two years old

"Go on, boys! Go play!"

Tech was set down alongside his brothers, but they didn't stick around for long. As soon as Grandpa said the word, they all raced off, quickly disappearing into the crowd of other little kids running around the Play Place. Tech blinked as bodies zoomed past him in a blur. They bounced and tumbled and jumped and spun. He couldn't see any of their faces clearly to tell which ones were his brothers.

He tried listening for them instead, but there was so much noise. Screams and hollers and laughter and strange sounds he didn't understand. Their suddenness, their volume, made him twitch in surprise. Nothing sounded familiar.

He took a few steps in one direction, hoping to find something he knew. Someone bumped him as they passed by, causing him to fall on his bum. He twisted around to get himself back up again. Still no brothers.

Tech then turned to go back to his mommy and grandparents, but they weren't there. Just more kids and more noise. He kept turning and looking but he'd already forgotten where they were supposed to be, and he couldn't tell any of the adults apart.

That's when he started to panic.

His vision grew even blurrier as his eyes filled with tears. He could barely hear his own whimpers over the ruckus around him, so he really started to cry out. He'd never been this loud before. He'd never been this scared before. He didn't know what was happening.

"Tech?"

Cutting through his sobs finally came a familiar voice. Soon, his mom's face was right next to his, wiping at his tears.

"Oh, come here, dear. It's okay."

She lifted him up and he tried to hide himself in her neck. He felt her moving, walking away. The noise wasn't as bad but it was still there. So he kept crying.

"Mom, Dad, can you watch the others? I'm going to take him outside for a bit. ... No, it's okay, I think he's just overwhelmed."

Mom's voice rumbled against his ear. He clung to her tighter.

The sounds from before faded away, but they were unfortunately replaced with new ones. There were loud beeps and whirring sounds. And the lighting got brighter. Tech opened his eyes to bright sunlight. Big trucks were working in the distance, like from Bob the Builder. But these ones were so much louder. There was also lots of talking, and a crying baby somewhere. Tech started to cry again, too.

He could feel his mom huff as she quickly tried to walk somewhere else. They passed by buildings and trees and food and colorful objects. Everywhere they went, there was just too much going on. Not even the doggie they came across was quiet. Mom ran a soothing hand over his back and cooed in his ear.

"It's okay, dear. You're okay."

And just when Tech started to feel tired from all his crying, Mom finally found a quiet spot to dip into.

"Shh. Shhh. It's okay, Tech. Look where we are!"

He opened his eyes and saw they were now inside somewhere. It felt cool in here. And the lighting wasn't too bright. And most importantly of all, it was very, very quiet. He stopped crying immediately.

And then, they caught his eye. Books. All around him, lined up on shelves and stacked up on tables. No kids. No trucks. No barking dogs. Just books.

"It's a library," his mom whispered. "Do you want to pick a book to read?"

Tech nodded his head. He loved books. His favorite thing was story time. Other than TV time, of course. Mom set him down and he hurried over to the closest shelf, where a book with a sparkly fish on the cover stood out to him. He pulled it down and ran a hand over the illustration. But before he could give it to mom to read, he noticed another book. This one had a bright yellow cover and a monkey. Then there was another one with a bear. And another one with some kind of monster.

Before he knew it, he'd collected a whole pile of books. Mom only chuckled softly before settling down next to them and drawing him into her lap.

"If you give a pig a pancake..."

"Once upon a time there were four little rabbits..."

"I'm Emily Elizabeth, and I have a dog..."

"One sunny Sunday, the caterpillar was hatched out of a tiny egg..."

Book after book, Mom read and Tech listened. He looked at each page thoroughly before letting Mom turn to the next. He pointed and asked what everything was. He didn't understand everything she said, but he tried really hard to think about it.

It was nice to learn new things. It made the world seem much less scary.

- - -

Seven years old

"You're still awake? I thought I'd caught you all...."

Their babysitter, Aayla, let out a defeated sigh as she discovered Tech was still on the couch. She'd spent the last twenty minutes wrangling all of the Batch boys for bed, while Tech had somehow escaped unnoticed, instead fully invested in an episode of Jeopardy!

"How do they know so many things?" he asked her as a commercial started to play.

Tech scooted over a bit as Aayla plopped onto the couch next to him. "They studied. A lot."

"What's that?"

"Studying..." she mused. "It's when you focus on learning."

"Like school?"

"Yes, studying is going to school. But it's also reading lots of books."

"I read a lot of books."

"And it's being curious about things. Asking questions."

"I ask a lot of questions." Tech could hear his brothers in his mind complaining that he asked too many questions sometimes.

"And studying is paying attention to the world around you. Observing. Letting the truth reveal itself. You can learn a lot just by watching and listening."

Tech frowned. He did not pay attention to the world around him. The world around him was so big. There were lots of people being busy and doing unexpected things. He used to be frightened, but had since learned how to tune it out and focus on what he wanted to. Usually a book or the TV.

"I'm not good at that," he said quietly, picking at the lining of the couch cushion so he wouldn't have to look at her.

"That's what practice is for," she said. "You can practice watching your brothers. And practice listening to your mom."

Tech kept picking at the couch. Aayla patted his back.

"Alright, bud. We gotta get you to bed now."

Thankfully the commercials just ended and the blue Alex Trebek stage came back into view. Tech perked up.

"Wait! It's the final clue!"

Aayla sighed again but leaned back into the couch. "Okay. But we have to go to be when it's done."

Tech nodded in agreement and then listened as the host read off the clue.

The Aztecs called this animal ayotochtli, meaning a "turtle rabbit" for its rabbitlike ears & its turtle-like shell.

"Hmm," Aayla considered. "An animal with rabbit ears and a turtle shell?"

Tech's face scrunched up as he thought about it. He could never guess the right answers on this show, but he did know a lot about animals.

"Ears... and a shell..." his babysitter kept musing out loud.

"An armadillo has a shell," said Tech.

"Does it have rabbit ears?"

He tried to remember the picture from one of his books. "They're like, little rabbit ears.”

Meanwhile, the Jeopardy! song ended and the contestants shared their answers. Then, the host confirmed...

"The correct answer is armadillo."

Tech gasped and even Aayla sat up with a grin.

"I got it?"

"You got it, bud!"

"I got it! I got it right!" he cheered.

"Shh," Aayla said, still smiling at him. "You'll wake your brothers."

"I got it right!" he whispered.

- - -

Twelve years old

"Mom! Moo-um!"

Tech froze, horrified by the sound that just came out of his mouth. He gently prodded his throat as if checking for damage.

"Ha!" came Wrecker's laughter from behind him. "Why'd you do that with your voice?"

Tech slowly turned back into their shared room, still unsure what was happening. "I... I didn't do anything."

He said the words slowly, testing things out. His voice sounded normal, now. Weird.

"Well that was funny. You should try doing it again." Wrecker laughed a few more times but then quickly lost interest when Tech didn't try yelling again, so he instead returned to his LEGO set on the floor. Well, it was really Echo's LEGO set that Wrecker had accidentally knocked over, and so now he was figuring out how to put it back together.

"You ready to go, dear?" His mom appeared in the doorway with her purse over her shoulder and car keys in hand. She looked at him expectantly.

"Go?" he asked, still talking cautiously.

"You're getting fitted for glasses, remember?"

Oh, shoot. He'd totally forgotten about that. He'd been the only one to come out of their eye exams last week with a prescription for glasses. He'd actually been excited about it, since the lenses he'd tried showed him just how nice it was to clearly see things. He hadn't realized how much he'd been missing out. But then there'd been a big test at school, and new neighbors had moved in next door so of course they had to spend their free time rotating shifts to spy on them... new glasses had gotten overlooked in all the excitement.

"Wreck," Mom addressed his brother, who was now fully locked in to his LEGO project. "It's just you and Cross for a bit. Hunter and Echo are at Rex's house. Cody's on his way over. Please don't burn down the house before he gets here."

Wrecker just gave a thumbs up, a big LEGO piece sticking out of his mouth as he inspected a section of the broken figure to find where it would go.

Tech followed Mom to the car and waited until she'd pulled out of the driveway before asking her questions.

"Is it normal for someone's voice to suddenly get really deep without them trying?"

He looked at her, hoping she didn't think the question sounded as silly as he'd felt asking it. She only looked back at him briefly with a surprised raise of her eyebrows before turning back to the road.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's pretty normal."

"Really? I've never heard anyone else's voice do that."

"It's... normal for young boys... going through puberty."

Oh no. They'd been learning about things like puberty and sex bit by bit for a few years now. It all sounded weird and gross and not something any of them were particularly excited to have happen. It was the one subject Tech had intentionally not looked into on his own for that very reason. He'd been in denial. And now, it was here.

Tech groaned at the thought, and unfortunately his voice caught in his throat as he did so, causing another embarrassing sound. His mom started silently giggling and he shuffled down in his seat.

"It's okay, Tech, dear. It's just a voice crack."

"You didn't say anything about that!"

She had told them all about how they'd grow facial hair and get taller and have body odor and acne, and even that their private parts would change. Tech had made a list so they could keep an eye out for the signs and warn each other.

"I'm pretty sure I said your voices would get deeper."

"Yeah, I did think it would be so sudden, in the middle of a word." And that that word would be Mom, he thought, even more mortified. He really hoped Wrecker wouldn't say anything to the others.

His mom just laughed some more. She reached over and took hold of his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Not to be the corny mom here, but I'm just as upset as you are. I don't want my little boys to grow up yet."

"You don't sound upset," he grumbled, but still held her hand back.

"Well, if I've learned anything raising five boys all by myself, it's that sometimes, you just gotta laugh about the hard things."

She stopped at a light and looked over, meeting his gaze with that smile that had always put him at ease. Whenever he felt like curling up and hiding from the world, she'd been there to help him ease back into it. Her, and his brothers. He supposed that made this whole puberty thing a little less frightening. He wouldn't have to go through it alone.

- - -

Seventeen years old

"Hello..."

Tech squinted through the sun to look out at the people before him. A sea of maroon caps and gold tassels. And blank faces that stared back, waiting for him to get his speech over with so they could be done with high school already. Only four faces met his with fondness. Well, three that were obvious, one that needed a lifetime of studying to tell the difference. Tech couldn't see his mom but he knew she was out there somewhere smiling, too. And his teachers on the stage behind him were likely engaged as well.

But his peers... they made a tough crowd. They always had. When he'd struggled to make connections, he'd turned toward books. Teachers. The internet. Facts and figures and knowledge. And look where that'd gotten him. On a stage with an extra cord draped over his neck, forced to give parting words to the very people he'd ignored all these years. It was as ironic as it was unpleasant.

He glanced down at his cue cards, suddenly aware that the speech he'd labored over all month wasn't enough. Not for lack of appropriate pauses or improperly cited sources. No, it was simply unearned. He'd made the grades, but at the cost of respect. No one in that crowd cared what he had to say. Most didn't even know him. Who was he to tell them a thing or two about the value of education?

Hunter, on the other hand... now he could've given this speech. People listened to him, mainly because he seemed to always have the right thing to say. Even when he didn't. He was earnest. Relatable. And always supportive. He'd probably tell these kids to be proud of their accomplishments. Shake off the bad times. Keep their heads high. Stay in touch.

Tech couldn't help but think about Wrecker being up here. He'd for sure lean into the more positive, forward-thinking messages. But he also had so much natural charisma. He'd say something dumb but the laughter wouldn't be at his expense. He'd roll with it and make an even bigger joke and even the teachers wouldn't be able to stop laughing. Years would go by and everyone would still remember that funny guy at their graduation ceremony.

Wrecker had tried to give him some jokes to work in when he'd been writing this speech, but Tech had blown him off. The only advice he'd taken was from Echo, but even then it was only one phrase he thought was worded particularly well. Echo's actual ideas had felt too emotional at the time. Now, Tech was picturing Echo on this stage and the word changed to impassioned. He inspired people, and not in an over-the-top, pretentious way, either. Everyone could see that he was disadvantaged but still found a way to get after the things he cared about, and that made them feel like anything was possible. Echo would stand here and say so, and challenge them all to make it happen.

Tech knew Crosshair wouldn't give any kind of speech in front of any size crowd for any reason, so he almost didn't entertain the thought. But his brother was a mysterious one and had given him plenty of surprises before. Gun to his head, Cross would say something, surely. It would be short. Not sweet, but pithy. No BS. No fluff. He'd say the thing everyone was thinking. High school sucks. Thank God it's over. Then he'd probably say the other thing everyone was thinking. What if the rest of my life sucks, too? And then he'd dismiss it with some curse-laden conclusion like, How the fuck should I know? Live your life, let me live mine, and we'll find out if it sucks soon enough.

A cough from the crowd brought Tech out of his head, just as he was about to start picturing all four of his brothers on this stage at once, like some chaotic improv show. He cleared his throat as he tried to refocus. He'd learned so much over the years. Dates and formulas and languages and rules. But his brothers had some valuable knowledge, too. How to relate to their peers. Inspire them. Entertain them. Keep things real. Maybe he had a few things left to learn...

Tech turned over his cards, looked back into the setting sun, and went for it.

- - -

Twenty-two years old

"Tall flat white."

The words came out automatically; he didn't even look up from his phone as he approached the counter and put in the order. It was a well-worn routine at this point.

"Back again?"

Tech only glanced up to give her a polite smile before going back to his business. But while other baristas were content to leave him be and get on with their own work, this one didn't seem to want to do that.

"Always glued to your phone. Whatchu getting up to on there?" She rested her elbows on the counter and tried to get a look at his phone. "You working on a top score in Candy Crush or something?"

Tech shook his head. He tried to give a quick explanation while he typed out a message. "Grant proposal. Got to... proof. Afternoon."

He missed the amused twitch of her eyebrow as she watched him, thumbs moving frantically to type out the words in time with his thoughts.

"And what grant are you proposing?"

Tech caught himself typing the word proposing, which was not what he'd meant to put. He huffed in annoyance and quickly backspaced to start the note over. "It's... um... mm..." He started typing again.

The barista played along. "Wow, that's fascinating."

He kept typing. There were a lot of changes needed on this proposal before the deadline tomorrow.

The girl seemed miffed that he wasn't responding to her teasing so she upped her game. "But you know what's even more important than funding for your mysterious project? Making real human connections."

He still didn't respond. He could hear that someone was talking to him but the words weren't registering.

"Like looking people in the eye when they talk to you? You've been here five days in a row now and I couldn't even say what color your eyes are. I mean, you gotta treat your baristas right. We have the power to spit in your coffee if you aren't looking."

Still nothing. He'd finished his thoughts and was attaching them to an email.

She pushed off the counter with a disappointed huff. "Psh, you tech bro types are no fun."

Tech raised his head at hearing his name.

"Ahh, there they are!" she smirked playfully. "You've got brown eyes. Who knew."

"I'm sorry?" he blinked at her.

She just laughed and turned to accept the coffee her coworker had finished making. The barista slid it over to him but kept one hand on it so he couldn't leave. He was very perplexed at her persistent attention. No one bothered trying to talk to him for this long.

"You know, a double shot this late in the day will keep you up pretty late."

"Um..." Tech wasn't sure how to respond.

"You should stop by the speakeasy on 5th street. Open mic night. A bunch of us are doing poetry readings." She tilted her head toward a few of her coworkers who nodded back in acknowledgement. "I just wrote a new piece. Death By A Thousand Paper Cuts."

Tech had about a dozen questions vying for the chance to be asked. It didn't help that this girl, with thick locs piled on her head and a nose ring that likely wasn't allowed by the cafe's dress code, was looking at him so insistently, so sincerely. He gulped beneath her gaze but found that he also couldn't look away. Even as his phone buzzed with notifications.

"There's a speakeasy in town?" was the question he settled with. That was particularly interesting. He'd normally blow off invitations to places in favor of working on his research, but he just may need to make an exception.

For the location... and for the girl....

She smirked knowingly and let go of the coffee. "I'll be on stage at 10. See you there, Brown Eyes."

Every Story Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @Sleepycreativewriter, @cw80831, @cdblake1565, @msmeredithrose The Batch Family Tag: @KaijuSplotch, @marvel-starwars-nerd, @lackofhonor, @flowered-bicycles, @techie-bear, @skellymom, @thecoffeelorian, @swgirlie, 

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[masterjedilenawrites]

Ready Or Not

Howzer x fem!S/O | 1.9k words

Content: blind dates, bad first impressions, Howzer has some thoughts and feels to work through, maybe some demi vibes?, no real fluff but I think it's sweet in its own way

Prompt: I came across this concept of a "Meet Ugly" and thought it'd be interesting to explore. Used this scenario: Getting set up on a blind date and not having the best reaction when they first see each other.

Part of Operation #MoreHowzerFics

He did not have time for this.

Maybe the rest of the galaxy had been duped into thinking the war was over, but Howzer knew better. There was still a fight to be had, and a more dire one at that. A fight for his brothers. Their fates were hanging in the balance... and here he was, sitting at some cafe on Pabu waiting for a date.

He wasn't even sure how it had happened. Rex had insisted there was a reason soldiers took R&R, and even though they technically weren't soldiers anymore they should still try to relax every once in a while. Fireball had taken to saying "you need to get laid" every time Howzer was in an even slightly bad mood. Greer was always going on about how they needed to think of the future, find a dream worth fighting for, like a home or a family. And Gregor was weirdly interested in figuring out what everyone's "type" was; everywhere they went he'd point someone out and gauge their reactions.

All of that somehow had culminated in setting Howzer up on a blind date the second they touched down on Pabu. As if he had time for such things. As if he cared about such things.

And yet... here he was. Wearing his armor and a frown, but he'd still shown up. If he wasn't so busy cursing his brothers in his mind, he could have analyzed why he was here. Or whether he maybe secretly did care about such things.

His leg bounced and his narrowed eyes stared unfeeling out at the planet's glistening waters. He glanced down at his watch every few minutes, growing more upset at how the time passed without this supposedly "cute" date of his showing up. A memory of Echo whispered in the back of his mind, saying something about "Pabu time", how people here didn't need to move with the same urgency he was used to, but he didn't listen to it.

A few people passed by and gave him pleasant smiles. Some entered the patio and gave warm hugs to neighbors they recognized. An elderly couple went up to the counter, leisurely reading the menu as if they had never dined here before. One girl confidently strolled in, at first acting like she knew where she was going, and then halting in the middle of the tables and looking about in confusion. She then tried to cover and got in line to order, as if that had been her plan, even though Howzer had seen the whole thing and knew she had probably absentmindedly gone to the wrong place.

He fought back the urge to roll his eyes at these people. He wasn't really annoyed at them. If anything, he envied their peace. They didn't have family enslaved by the Empire. They didn't have uncertain futures. They were allowed to wander and smile and act a little silly. It's what he would want for his brothers once they were freed. No, he was annoyed because they weren't free. This peace was not theirs. But here he was, sitting in a cafe overlooking a beautiful view and waiting for a date as if he had earned it. How in the galaxy had he let Rex and the others convince him to do this?

Just when he started to entertain the idea of bailing, the girl from earlier caught his eye. She had made it up to the counter now and the worker was pointing over in his direction. Howzer subconsciously shifted, his back straightening and his hand settling on his thigh next to his blaster holster. Usually he'd pretend not to have noticed, let any potential threats think they were catching him unawares while all along he had the upper hand. But here, he decided to send a different message. I am aware, I see you staring, try to mess with me.

The girl followed the path that the worker had pointed her in, right to Howzer. She didn't look like a spy or some other kind of threat, but these days, who really knew. Especially when she seemed determined to appear pleasant and confident, despite the nervous gulp Howzer clocked from across the patio, not to mention the little display of carelessness he had seen from her earlier.

"Hi there," she said when she came within a few feet of his table.

She gave out a breathy laugh and Howzer frowned, waiting to see what she wanted from him.

"Um," she gulped again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Another nervous tell. What was she hiding? "I uh... Phee told me to meet someone here. For a... a date?"

Howzer's eyes widened in realization. Kriff.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to walk right past you," the girl continued to fill in the silence. "I guess I wasn't expecting, um..."

She trialed off as she realized how the thought was sounding out loud, and then quickly tried to save face by hurrying over to the seat opposite him and pulling it out. But Howzer wasn't going to let her off the hook that easy.

"Weren't expecting... what?" he asked once she sat down. He eased his hand away from his blaster but kept his posture upright. She may not be a threat but he wasn't exactly comfortable.

She exhaled quickly with a sheepish smile. "Well, a clone."

Howzer's eyes returned to their narrowed state, sizing up this girl he found himself sitting across from. She interpreted the silence as offense and immediately started babbling.

"I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that. It's... it's just... You know, you've all just recently started coming here... I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised... Of course Phee would set me up with someone I don't know, I know practically every other guy here, and there's a reason I'm not with any of them... And she's been working with clones more recently... But like, I know only a few of you are sticking around for good, so I guess that's why it didn't occur to me that..."

Howzer wasn't sure when he had started zoning out. He felt bad, but also couldn't help it. He didn't have much time for this date to begin with, and certainly no time to listen to a stranger ramble without getting to any sort of point. He was a soldier; he valued conciseness. Whatever suppressed little hope he had that maybe this date wouldn't be so bad after all, maybe he finally would find a romantic connection with someone, dissipated into the saltwater breeze. 

He sat forward and the girl stopped spewing her thoughts, eagerly awaiting him to interject and contribute.

"Look, you seem like a nice girl," he lied. He honestly didn't really have an opinion about her one way or the other. He'd been hit on plenty of times back on Ryloth but had never felt anything by it, other than occasional annoyance when it interrupted his duties. "But it seems like we both have some disappoints over this arrangement. Why don't we cut our losses now, get some time back in our days, and part on good terms?"

Now it was her turn to frown.

"You... you're disappointed?"

Howzer was already scooting his chair back to stand. "It's nothing personal against you," he tried to reassure, though even he could hear how impolite it sounded. He hated that he was in such a situation. He should have never come in the first place.

He gave her a formal nod, almost like a salute, and then strode through the patio gate and down quiet, cobbled streets back toward the town square. Each step felt heavier and heavier and he did whatever he could to ignore the guilt twisting in his chest, even trying to look at his surroundings and focus on taking in the architecture and flora and beauty. It was a hollow focus, but he was determined to keep walking, believing he'd soon forget about this awkward encounter and the rude behavior he'd displayed, and things would go back to normal... as normal as they could be in a war.

But then a voice started to cut through to him from behind.

"Sir? Sir!"

He turned in confusion to see the girl jogging toward him. She pulled up a few feet from him, only slightly out of breath.

"Sorry. Um, I don't know your name. Or your rank."

"My rank doesn't matter anymore," he said, immediately regretting how defensive it sounded. He really was a mess today, wasn't he.

"Sure it does," she said with a small smile. "It was an accomplishment, something you should always be proud of."

Without realizing, the tenseness in his shoulders started to loosen. He took in a deep breath and said the first normal thing all day. "My name's Howzer. Captain Howzer."

Her smile grew just a bit more. "It's nice to meet you, Captain Howzer. And... I'm sorry if I came across rude or annoying before. I understand if you don't find me attractive, but I really don't want that to be your impression of me. I really wasn't disappointed to find out you were my date. In fact, I'm disappointed I didn't actually get to have you as a date. But, like I said... it's okay if you're not interested."

Howzer's heart was twisting again. She was a nice girl. Sweet, thoughtful. Still used too many words, but he supposed he didn't use enough sometimes. As far as attraction, he wasn't entirely sure he knew what that felt like, but those bright eyes and soft smile weren't so bad to look at.

"It's not that I'm not interested," he started to say slowly, but then realized he wasn't sure how to finish the thought.

The girl stepped closer. "You're just not ready?"

"Honestly, I don't know if I ever will be ready." He gave a sheepish shrug, though he was starting to feel better. He appreciated that she was helping him sort through these confusing feelings. Her eyes were closer, swimming with the reflection of the sky and what he believed to be genuine care. Before he knew it, he was elaborating. "I mean, do I like the idea of sitting down for coffee with someone and getting to know them? Of course. But to what end? I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if I can be a good friend, let alone... something else."

She nodded in understanding but still offered a different perspective. "To be fair, no one really knows what the future holds. And relationships come in all different forms. There's no one way to be a good friend. Or a good something else."

Howzer's eyes slipped away from hers, pulled toward the glistening sea in the backdrop behind her. He mulled over her words as he watched the waves, nothing but tiny little ripples from this distance. It reminded him of some of the paintings he saw back on Ryloth. He'd always been impressed with artists who could make small details seem real. They were only small strokes on a canvass but they captured a whole entire feeling.

He shook himself, not sure why he was thinking about such a thing right now. The girl was still watching him with a small but knowing smile. She stepped back and returned the nod he'd given her back at the cafe.

"I'm really glad to have met you, Captain. I wish you all the best."

She turned and started walking back the way she'd came. Howzer let her get a few steps before finally calling out.

"Wait. I didn't get your name."

She paused and smiled at him over her shoulder.

"Hope."

Every Character Tag: @dangerousstrawberrypie, @justanothersadperson93, @arctrooper69, @sleepycreativewriter, @techie-bear,

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[masterjedilenawrites]

Ooh this is so cute!! I love your blind date series so of course I have to do a birthday one too.

My name is Renae and my birthday is June 3rd. My time zone is Eastern Standard Time.

There are so many amazing Star Wars characters but my absolute favorite is the OG himself: Luke Skywalker. He’s just the overall best so of course I have to celebrate my birthday with him! Hopefully he will bring R2-D2 along to make the day even more fun. Though, a party with the whole Millennium Falcon crew would pretty epic.

Typically I keep things more low-key, but I do like a fun party to celebrate. I also really love surprises. While a good time with good company is more than enough for me, I do enjoy receiving a gift or two, especially when someone took the time to give me something I like or has special meaning. For me, sentimentality is all the luxury I need.

Again, I think this birthday prompt is really awesome and I hope everyone who receives one has the happiest birthday ever, including you 🫶🏼

Happy Birthday Renae / @dramaticpandabear !

You think Luke is the best? Well he thinks you are the best, and probably tells you so a dozen times a day. So you can bet your bottom dollar he’s been planning something really special for your birthday today. And of course it’s with the help of R2. Let’s just say there’s been many arguments, teasing, and scrapped notes between them for the past few weeks…

But your day is finally here and Luke’s got his plan in the nick of time. He knows you’re more of a lowkey person so he doesn’t overwhelm you right away. Instead, he pats the passenger seat of his speeder and invites you along for a cruise around town. Anywhere you want to stop, just say so. He’s like your personal chauffeur for the day. Though he doesn’t have enough credits to treat you to everything that catches your eye, you still have a good time window shopping, people watching, and laughing with each other.

The last stop of the day is the Millennium Falcon. You light up as Han and Chewie come out, wearing silly little party hats that they don’t seem too pleased about, but they greet you warmly nonetheless. You follow them all on board, expecting the ship to look as it always does, and are pleasantly surprised to find it packed with all your friends and family, decorated with streamers and displays of snacks and cupcakes. “Happy Birthday!” they cheer. Luke gives you a little wink, pleased that he found the right plan to make you happy today.

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[masterjedilenawrites]

Previous Lists | My Master Lists

A cherished companion to the To-Read list, my Done-Read list is a compilation of all the fics I read each month. If you missed the reblogs I left along the way, you can use these lists to find recs for your own reading journeys. As always, thank you to the lovely and talented writers who fueled all my daydreams this month!

Crosshair

Cross & Crow [Comic version], Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 🌻 story by @levi-venn & art by @99aceace

Hux x reader

Just a Matter of Time 🌻 by @starlightsearches

Maul x reader

Dibs, Chapter 1 🌻 story by @maulslittlemeowmeow & art by @the-chains-are-the-easy-part

Soft sex with Darth Maul 🌻 by @writingsfromthevoid

Omega & the Bad Batch

Omega rating the snuggle comfort of the batch during bedtime [headcanons w/art] 🌻 by @snotbuggle

[masterjedilenawrites]

okokok reblog and tag ONE. ONE. character design trait you wish you saw more. deliberate and choose, and don't be noble about it. mine is simply characters that wear their hair in two braids without having to be infantilized or "little girl"s about it