#501st archives

[fionajames]

FUCK

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE

IT MAY ONLY BE AN HOUR

BUT THAT IS AN HOUR OF AO3 NONETHELESS

[sad-trash-hobo]

Screaming because like a year ago I came on here and posted asking if anyone knew of a specific fic because I couldn't find it and I thought I had bookmarked it and people responded saying they'd look out and that it sounded good and they wanted to read it to. Only for a year later for me to be going through my own tabs on my own phone and finding the fic waiting right there for me on the last chapter I had read 🤦

Anyway it's called "Deciding Factor" by planningconquest on Archive of our Own

It's really good and yall should read it

[comicchannel]

Star Wars The Black Series Archive 501st Legion Clone Trooper Hasbro F1911

Link para compra BR: https://amzn.to/3UM9QrP

Buy here: https://amzn.to/3Ux27Nf

[clonememesfrikyeah]

*gives the clones the Magnus archives*

“Yes here you go my boys, some fun, family friendly entertainment. No horror, or existential fear hear. Ahahahahaaa AAAHAHAHAAA !Enjoy :)”

[peppermint-whiskers]

The Rat Pack works with the 501st on an extended mission. Chaos ensues.

This fic isn't about the mission. It's about the crack uwu

[archeo-starwars]

You wouldn't happen to have an extensive layout dissection of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant? Or even a list of all notable and obscure sections of the Jedi Temple? OR or even labelled areas that are public and reserved for only temple residents. Both from canon and legends, please and thank you!!!

The best I managed to find comes from Star Wars Complete Locations - you may check out the whole archived version here. The “zoom in” option is pretty good for reading details. Below the pages (I suppose the best is to open them in new tab for better reading):

As for the list of locations, I recommend wookiepedia's list. Plenty of data, both for Legends and New Canon.

Additional sources worth to check out:

Jedi Temple Locations & Jedi Temple History - both published as official material on star wars.com in regard to prequels and New Canon sources. Pictures and references to various places inside Temple.

Star Wars.com's The Clone Wars episode guide + videoclips from the series, like

A) Jedi Archives Tour (the entrance to one of the most restricted areas of the temple: The Holocron Vault).

B) Layout of Jedi Temple Library (source)

C) Jedi Temple funeral room + environment illustration by Tara Rueping (source)

Old Data Bank for Jedi Temple

HoloNews mentioning "a mob of 20 university students attempted to infiltrate the Jedi Temple" and "managing to get as far as the Second Atrium Lobby"

Star Wars Battlefront (2) game wiki provides some map and location description

and if you have time (and patience) you can watch gameplay from 501st Legion's mission in Jedi Temple for reference, like this one

The wookiepedia's articles should give enough good idea of the rooms, their location and functions, but I'm adding a few source pages:

STAR WARS: FACT FILES #36 provides a lot informations what and where was inside the Temple and some general data about visitors, security, Grand Balcony, Grand Corridor & Towers. Not all is super specific, but worth checking out for sure.

The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia mentions this:

and for Jedi Temple entry:

As for the named locations that are public or reserved for only temple residents, there is definitely a division like that, however I'm not sure if this issue was very well explained. The source gives us some ideas, like for example, Jedi Archives have data accessible only for Jedi with rank of Master or higher (thus most likely separated areas to study). At the same time, Fact Files #25 says that Jedi Archives offers an "excellent resources to researchers, including star-map hologram consoles", but also an access to entire scientific and historical knowledge of the Republic

so non-Jedi were allowed to use Jedi Library/Archives for their own research and work-related needs. We also must remember that the Jedi Order had various scientific branches, including archaeology, exploring unknown regions, and medicine, so logically thinking Jedi worked with other, non-Jedi specialists of many fields.

We also know from various sources, that politicians and important guests were invited for various occasions. We could see in Republic comics series that Bail Organa, Mon Mothma and senator Ask Aak were allowed to listen to Jedi reporting before High Council about his last battle

or attending Jedi Funeral like Duchess Satine and Padme Amidala did for the (fake) Obi-Wan's one or just visiting as a friend/comrade-in-arm

I would need to make more research about this issue as there is plenty tie-in material to Jedi Temple on Coruscant that would take a lot time to study, but at this moment, I think the best is assume how far a non-Jedi may walk into Temple will depend greatly who is that person and what is nature of their business with Jedi.

At the same time, Purge: Seconds to Die has this line "Clone Troopers? This deep in the Temple? Not permitted."

The Jedi was in Archives herself, so it is worth to take into account that clones could have more limited access to Temple than the average guest before war did. At the same time, clone troopers could make a report before Yoda and Mace Windu/High Council, as was presented by Star Wars Tales (Honor Bound):

so it is not like they were outright forbidden to enter the temple either.

Hope it will help!

[nchlsdmn]

Clone Wars 501st icon renders

Credit to @ashanbhatoa on the Star Wars Archives Discord

[aj-artjunkyard]

Imagine if star wars took Anakin’s chosen one-ness to the next level and instead of being born without a father he just kinda. Manifests. in the temple.

Like the Jedi are just hanging out in the gardens and suddenly there’s a bright flash and some collage-age kid in Jedi robes appears and is like ‘uh yeh I’m here to destroy the Dark and bring balance to the galaxy? If someone could just point me to the Sith Lord’

They have to tell him they have no idea where the Sith Lord is but they do know he’s at the centre of this new war and Anakin just goes ‘oh ok I guess I’ll help you with that until then’ and he becomes one of the top generals pretty much on accident bc he knows he’s here to kill the Sith and end the war but he knows literally nothing else. The clones approach him to tell him that they made up names that they’d like used instead of CT numbers and he’s like ‘what’s a name’

OR you could have him show up as some small, eldritch being with glowing eyes and an echoing voice that’s just vaguely a human youngling. He speaks in full, clear sentences using words he should not understand at that age, can look straight into someone’s soul and just generally knows things he shouldn’t.

He tells the Jedi who he is and why he is here and tells them to show him to the source of the Dark and obviously the Council is like ‘we are not sending a literal child to kill a Sith Lord’ but he’s technically young enough to be inducted into the crèche and obviously he’s some sort of sign from the Force so there he’s sent.

At first, the Chosen One is dismayed that every time he leaves the room full of toddlers to go and destroy darkness, he is promptly brought back and put in the corner. He is confused why the others his ‘age’ keep trying to convince him to play ‘tag’. He has no idea why the crèche-master takes him to the archives to help him pick a name.

The moment he chooses ‘Anakin’, his otherworldly glow dims and his head feels less full.

As the years go by and more milestones are passed (he plays tag - it was enjoyable. He makes friends. He giggles when Yoda tells jokes. He helped a broken mouse droid because it seemed like the kind thing to do) Anakin becomes more and more human, his glow almost gone and the big words he’d once known forgotten. He can no longer do the impossible feats of Force strength he once could, but that power is still inside him somewhere. Master Kenobi says it will come back to him when the time is right. But not without lots of training.

Either way, when the clones bring up nat-borns and Anakin is ???? the entire 501st misinterprets and believes that every Jedi just pops up in the Temple fully robed

[vodika-vibes]

Since Fives is a really good investigator (evident with him finding about Order 66), can I request an x reader fic where he investigates a string of heists involving Jedi artefacts committed by the reader, who is a flirty master thief, and he tries to pursue her across Coruscant to bring her to justice?

Knew You Were Trouble

Summary: When ancient artifacts start vanishing from the Jedi Temple, stolen from right under the noses of both the archivists and the Jedi Guardians, Fives decides to investigate.

Pairing: Pre ARC Trooper Fives x Thief F!Reader

Word Count: 2484

Warnings: Reader is described as having a feminine body, and wearing makeup. Reader is given the codename Shadow for ease.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Sorry that this took so long! I've had it sitting open in a Doc for days, but I finally got an idea! Reader's outfit is similar to this outfit from Persona 5 Royal. Though without the weapons. There may be a part two of this, if I ever get the motivation.

“General Nu-”

“Master,” The older woman corrects, as she glances at Fives out of the corner of her eye, and then turns back to her work, “What can I help you with, Corporal?”

“I think a holocron is missing.” Fives replies as he looks at the open spot on the shelf. There’s some discoloration, as though something had been sitting there for a long time.

The older woman hurries over and glances at the spot, a severe frown on her lips. She stares at the spot for a moment, and then releases a heavy sigh. “Again?”

“Ma’am?”

Jocasta Nu shoots him a severe look, and Fives fights the urge to quail under her glare, “How are you at investigations, Corporal?”

“...decent enough, I suppose.”

“Good, follow me.” The older woman leads him through the archives until she reaches her desk, and then she turns a monitor towards him, and she navigates to a file of saved videos, “Watch. This was recorded 5 months ago.”

Fives focuses on the screen.

It’s security footage of the Archives, and he watches as someone, a woman based on her body shape, slips in a window.

She’s dressed oddly, almost in a leotard, with thigh high boots, a long overcoat, and a sharp looking domino mask covering the upper part of her face hiding her features from the camera.

She locks her gaze on the camera and presses a finger against her lips, as if shushing someone, and the camera feed goes fuzzy.

“This next one was taken three weeks after that.”

The monitor flickers, and then there’s an image of the same woman opening one of the vaults before the feed cuts out.

“And last night.”

The monitor changes one more time, and the exact same person, dressed exactly the same, is shown blatantly taking a holocron from the shelf, before she, again, disconnects the cameras.

Fives pulls away from the monitor and focuses his gaze on General Nu, “The same person has broken in three times-”

“She’s broken in a grand total of a dozen times…we’ve only caught her on camera thrice.” General Nu corrects.

“...and the Temple Guard haven’t done anything?”

“They are of the opinion that she doesn’t exist.” The older woman scowls, “Honestly, I don’t even know why she’s targeting us. It’s not like we keep gems on hand.”

“You keep knowledge on hand though. And to some people, that’s worth more than all the gems in the galaxy.” Fives points out.

The woman bristles and then her shoulders slump, “Yes. I know. I want you to try and find her and bring her to justice.”

Fives exhales through his teeth, “With all due respect, ma’am. I’m due to ship out with the 501st tomorrow-”

“I’ll handle it. Will you help?”

Nervously Fives rubs the back of his neck, and then he sighs, “Yeah, alright. Assuming you can get permission, I’ll help. Do you have any evidence for me to go on?”

Master Nu smiles, it’s a sharp little thing and for a moment Fives wonders why she isn’t in charge of the war effort. “The holocron she stole has a tracking chip inside it. And, since holocrons can only be opened by force sensitives, it means she couldn’t have removed it.”

“Why didn’t you tell the Temple Guard about it?”

“Because, again, they don’t believe she actually exists.” General Nu presses a small datapad into his hand, “Here, this is what you need to track the holocron.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll let you know what the Council says about your deployment.”

“Thanks for that too,” Fives replies as he powers the device on and waits for it to scan for the tracking fob that it’s keyed to. As soon as the screen lights up, he grabs his helmet and pulls it on and leaves the archives.

The fob is located in a warehouse only a short speeder ride away from the temple. 

And a quick search of the net tells him that the Warehouse is supposed to be abandoned. A deeper search of the net tells him that the warehouse was slated for demolition several years ago, but it just never happened.

“We have arrived at your destination.” The taxi droid chirps, “Thank you for your patronage.” Fives steps out of the speeder and glances at the datapad one more time.

“Seven warehouses,” He murmurs, zooming in a little bit, “I’m looking for building A-2478/23.” The speeder zips off while he’s not paying attention to it, not that he minds, really.

Fives wasn’t planning on returning to the temple right away anyway.

He glances at the datapad one more time, and then looks up and around. The buildings have to be labeled, right?

Ah! There, the closest building, is A-2475/23.

So odds are on the left side and evens would be on the right, assuming that this place is designed with any sort of logic. He jogs over to the first building on the right until he’s able to see the white letters on the side of the building.

A-2474/23.

So two down then.

The warehouse he’s looking for is a little more rundown than the other ones. Boarded up windows, rust replacing the green paint in places, leaking pipes…

And yet-

Fives moves to where the door is located, his eyes narrowing. The lights over the door are new. The broken windows are broken in such a way that it looks intentional. The doorknob on the door is also new, all of the rust is painted on.

He walks over to a rusty patch and he tugs off his glove to touch the rust with his bare fingers. It’s not real. 

Someone has gone to great lengths to make this place look like it’s been condemned. 

He walks over to the door and lightly touches the doorknob. How long has it been since he’s seen a building using a door like this, rather than the more mechanized ones that are seen everywhere.

Clever.

If he wasn’t looking for something out of place, he’d likely think that this building was ancient and wouldn’t give it a second thought.

Luckily, he’s smarter than the average bear, so to speak.

He pulls his hand away from the doorknob and pulls his glove back on. There’s no way he’s going through the front door. That’s just asking for trouble. 

He circles the warehouse, thoughtfully. Considering all of his options.

Opening the bay doors isn’t an option, he’d never get them open on his own from the outside. The ground floor windows are also out, anyone inside would see him immediately.

His gaze lands on the fire escape. Like the rest of the building, the ladder doesn’t look like it would carry the weight of a small child, let alone a man full grown. 

However, Fives has already seen evidence of someone going out of their way to try and make this place look more dangerous than it is. So he walks over to the ladder and jumps up to grab the bottom most rung.

Fives hangs there for a moment, waiting, and when the fire escape doesn’t dissolve under his weight, or even shake, he feels comfortable hoisting himself up to the fire door.

The door looks rusted beyond belief, and Fives is sure that it’s all fake rust. But he’s not so stupid to try and touch the door. Fire doors are notoriously sensitive, he remembers that from ARC Training.

So he ignores the door, and instead jumps up to grab the ledge of the roof, and he pulls himself up to the ledge.

A quick survey tells him that there aren’t any sensors on the roof, and he huffs out a quiet laugh, “You’d think that a thief would put sensors on the roof.” He mumbles to himself as he steps onto the gravel roof.

A second quick glance around leads Fives to side-step the roof access door, a door that he’s sure is rigged to an alarm, to crouch next to a window. And this, right here, is all of the proof that he needs that everything about the building is a facade. 

These windows are brand new, and made from blaster proof material. A material that Fives knows was only invented in the last few years.

He can’t see through the windows, not well at least, but he is able to see that there isn’t any movement on the upper walkways. So carefully, very carefully, making sure that none of the windows are wired, he opens one.

One final check that he’s not going to land on anyone, Fives drops into the warehouse, making sure that the window is closed behind him.

Silently he moves from the wall to peer down into the main part of the warehouse. 

There, sitting on a table, is the holocron that was missing. Well, presumably. There are a lot of holocrons on the table. 

On another table are some statues. Some books actually made of flimsy are lined up on another table.

There’s an entire shelf filled with weapons of all types.

And there, pacing between the tables, is a Devaronian man. Fives isn’t able to see the look on his face, and, even more clearly, he’s not the actual thief.

A contractor, perhaps?

Maybe the thief was hired by him to acquire all of these things…though Fives can’t think of a reason why. There’s nothing in common between any of these items that he can see, save for the fact that they’re old.

He scans the warehouse one more time, and then movement catches his eye.

There, perched on a wooden crate, is the thief.

Without her mask.

Fives’ immediate thought was that someone as pretty as her should probably be making a living as a model or an actress or something, not living as a master thief. His second thought is that she’s far too young to have stolen all of the things in the warehouse.

“My darling Shadow,” The man is speaking to Shadow, the thief, and Fives pulls himself out of his thoughts, “You’re so talented.”

“Yes,” She agrees, her voice light, “I am.”

“You’re almost as good as your father.” He continues.

“My father never managed to get into the Jedi Temple. I managed it 12 times in the last year.” Shadow replies, sounding bored out of her mind as she examines her gloves, “But please, do continue telling me how talented my father was.”

Her contractor opens his mouth to say something, and then hesitates, “My dear,” he finally says, condescendingly, “No one is as good as you think you are.”

The young woman lifts her head to say something, and then she pauses, her gaze sliding to the upper walkways. Her gaze locks onto his face, and she smiles, slow and pretty. “We have company.”

The Devaronian jerks, “What? Where!?” He spins around and looks up, and Fives, knowing that he’s been busted, moves a little more into the light. “Kriff! It’s the GAR!” The man yelps, before he shoves all of the holocrons into a bag and sprints away.

Shadow, however, doesn’t bother to run. Instead, she smoothly gets to her feet and pulls her mask on. “‘Won’t you step into my parlor?’ said the spider to the fly?” She coos.

It’s a trap. It’s clearly a trap.

But Fives can’t help but smirk, as he leans over the railing, “Does that make you the spider in this scenario, Miss Shadow?”

“Why don’t you come down and find out, little soldier boy.”

He should go after the contractor. He should. That would be the smart thing to do.

But no one’s ever accused him of being smart.

So Fives grips the railing, and he jumps over the edge.

A quick activation of his jetpack allows him to land lightly on his feet only a few feet away from her. “I’ve come to reclaim the items you took from the Jedi temple.” Fives announces.

Her red painted lips turn up, “Have you? How do you intend to do that?”

“I already caught you.” Fives points out.

She laughs, it’s a pretty sound, “Sweetheart, I haven’t been caught.”

“Yet.”

“Oh, you do think highly of yourself, don’t you?” She murmurs. Her eyes, the only part of her upper face not hidden by her mask, sweep down his body, “Of course, I suppose you have every reason to.”

“You could make this easy on both of us and just turn yourself in.”

“Now, why would I do that?”

“You clearly recognize that I’m an ARC Trooper.”

Her smile widens, “The best of the GAR…on the battlefield. And this, darling, is hardly a battlefield.”

Fives sighs, “You’re going to make me catch you, aren’t you?”

She scans him once more, “Well, I’m always happy to submit to a man in armor-” Fives inhales sharply, and he can feel his face heating under his helmet, “But you haven’t made me submit yet.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“So you’re going to let me go? How nice of you~”

“I didn’t say that.”

Her smile doesn’t waver as she moves. Fives curses, she’s faster than she looks, especially for someone wearing heels that high.

Then she’s right in his space. His helmet lifts, just a little, and warm lips press against his jaw. “Catch me if you can, handsome.” Then she’s gone, balanced on the rafters of the warehouse and smiling down at him, “I’ll let you have the stuff in the warehouse, as a treat.”

It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, “Let?” He rasps.

Her smile is pretty, “Let. After all, you found me didn’t you. Think of it as…incentive to keep looking for me.”

“If everything is here, then why would I do that?”

She produces a datacron from under her jacket, “I like information, sweetheart. And so, over the last dozen visits to the temple, I made copies of every bit of information that I could. And I have it right here.”

Kriff.

Double kriff.

If that information gets out-

There’s a flash of pink as she licks her lower lip, “Are you motivated yet?”

“Well, I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” Fives’ jaw clenches, “I am going to catch you.”

“I look forward to it, handsome.” And then she really is gone, out the same window that he entered through.

Slowly, shakily, Fives comms General Nu, “I found…a lot. But the thief got away.” He says as soon as she answers.

“How much is a lot?”

Fives looks around the massive warehouse filled with stolen objects, “A whole warehouse full.” He pauses, “There’s more, too.”

“Tell me when I arrive. You and your…twin…have officially been transferred to me.” General Nu says, “I hope he’s as good an investigator as you.”

The comm cuts off and Fives looks around with a sigh. Well, he never really wanted to fight in a war anyway.

[professional-yearner]

Yandere Tup x reader headcannons

TW for: yandere, threat of unconsensual acts of affection, illusions to Stockholm syndrome, two faced behavior, isolation

Tup! A surprisingly terrifying admirer!

Truly fitting of the sweet and quiet younger brother (at least outwardly), he's really found a way into your heart.

He can't get enough of you. So kind, so sweet and soft. 

You truly care about him in a way he's never experienced before. And he cares for you.

Oh, does he care for you.

Tup loves holding your hand, whether you like it or not, but luckily you've always reciprocated.

Though, it is startling when he'll come out of seemingly nowhere, larger hand closing around yours and him beaming down at you.

It drives him near mad how badly he wants to kiss you.

You're just so shy, he doesn't want to scare you off, even though he's sure you feel the same.

Even if you don't, he won't pay that much mind.

He wonders what it will feel like when it finally happens. He'd like to think of himself as a gentleman, but he's not sure how much he'll be able to hold back once he gets a taste.

He's sure you won't mind.

He follows you around any and everywhere he can.

Whether it's your station, the mess, your quarters, anywhere is fair game as long as he's done his duties for the day!

It's eerie how he just happens to know where you are all the time…

The affectionate curiosity about who your friends were has become a sickly sweet kind of interrogation, him visibly getting more irate the moment you admit to spending time with anyone other than him.

He doesn’t yell, no, never at you, dearheart <3

He doesn't need to anyway, the look he has when you give an answer he doesn't want is enough to make you hesitant to repeat the mistake of keeping the company of others besides him and his siblings. 

So soft-spoken and kind (outwardly), nobody would believe you even if you were to tell them about his worrying behavior.

“Tup? Are you sure it was him? He just helped me grab the documents I needed from the archives! You don’t think maybe you're blowing whatever he did out of proportion?”

His brothers are worse, though. 

Even sharing a knowing smile, they would only chuckle, “Tup? Scary? Oh, honey, don't let your imagination run away with you, now.”

You've idly thought of transferring out of the 501st, but… you don't hate Tup's affection as much as you probably should.

Sure, you were a bit freaked out at first, but he is so genuine and kind- at least to you. When it comes to others, you've noticed how… hollow his generosity seems to be. 

But, you choose to ignore it.

His presence in your life is so soothing, soft and warm in an almost crushingly loving sort of way. 

You love his family also, you've never had a group of people care for you so genuinely. 

Like them to you, you don't think you can let them go now.

But you shouldn't worry, Tup is here, and he'd never let you go uncared for again.

Even if you begged and screamed for it.

[numerousbees1106]

Crown of Lazarus Teaser #2 - Tumblr exclusive!

No-One Knows Just Who To Believe

(This is the follow-up teaser to the one posted yesterday, which can be read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55069789#main). Edited on 4/12/24 to fix some formatting issues.

It began slowly, as it always did. His mind, wrapped in infinite nothingness, thought only in the subconscious, all greater thought replaced with the gentle soundless static of the hindbrain. His body existed somewhere far away, his worries and fears farther yet still. For an endless moment, he simply existed within the threads of reality, interwoven with its fabrics, cradled and protected like a dragon in its egg.

But slowly, the harsher edges of existence began to creep in as they always did, like a camera slowly zooming in, and he became aware of his own wakefulness bit-by-aching-bit.

In his mind’s eye, he saw himself, but the proportions were all wrong, with some parts far too large and exaggerated, and other parts far too small, shrunk down like some sort of twisted caricature. He was rotating in an endless void, but simultaneously he was far too still, like an image pasted hastily into a video.

He became aware of his heart thumping, a sensation painful in its sudden stimulation. His breathing echoed loudly in his ears, his blood crawling through his veins like tunneling insects, bringing with them the numbing agony of his nerves regaining sensation.

Anakin slowly peeled open his eyes, eyelids sticky with disuse, nausea boiling in his gut. He felt too hot and too cold, sweaty and shaking, as his organs and various internal systems began to reboot and reawaken.

Even as his sluggish mind slipped in and out of what Anakin called his Reawakening daze, he clung desperately to lucid thought, knowing that he had to think up a damn good excuse for why he was mysteriously back from the dead.

The morgue, he figured. I’m probably in a body locker in the morgue.

Briefly, he wondered why he wasn’t freezing, but as he clumsily felt along his body, he recognized the scratchy textures of the blankets considered damn-near sacred by the clones. The blankets - thick and one of the more expensive pieces of gear - were limited to one per bunk, and it was a pain in the ass to get a replacement. As such, they were considered special by the clones - the blankets were always neatly folded, even in the messiest of chambers, even if the various other sheets were strewn all over the place. The blankets were always kept clean, and to steal a brother’s blanket was considered to be a serious crime. A handful of the 501st had even customized their blankets with dyes or sewn-on patches, despite it technically not being allowed.

And Anakin could feel some familiar patches on some of the blankets he was wrapped in.

Tears began to sting his eyes as he gingerly ran his fingers over one of the patches, shaping it out in his mind until he was certain - this was Rex’s blanket, that was laid out underneath him, cushioning what to them was Anakin’s eternal slumber. And the blanket draped over his torso, that bound his right arm to his side but left his left arm loose, Anakin recognized as Kix’s. And the one that gently wrapped around his legs and feet, Anakin could feel Jesse’s name embroidered on. A few other blankets embraced him, and more still cushioned the body locker around him, and Anakin’s heart clenched painfully with both immense love and grief. Damn his trust issues - he should have told them long ago.

With a shuddering breath, Anakin carefully unlocked the locker with the Force, gingerly sliding it out until a dim and flickering light greeted him.

Oh-so-gently, he moved the blankets out of the way so that he could sit up - they had really tucked him in tight, and it took all of Anakin’s willpower to not break into ugly sobs right then and there. He needed to find them, now. Just the mere thought of his beloved troops mourning for him another needless minute longer… it coiled something in his chest, curdled his heart like spoiled milk, radiating bitter guilt from his soul. He needed to go to them, to explain, to apologize to them, to beg for their forgiveness. He needed to reassure them that it was alright, that everything would be okay, that he was fine, that they would be fine. But, as he clambered out of his not-so-final resting place, he encountered a bit of an unexpected issue.

His wings were back. And they were a lot bigger than he remembered.

Shavit. Kriff. E chu ta. Karabast. Damn.

How in the Sith Hells was he supposed to hide this?

A thousand horrid scenarios raced through his mind. The Jedi, furious at him for lying to them for years. The Republic, desperate for a victory, throwing him into suicide missions again and again until there was nothing human left of him. Obi-Wan’s crestfallen face as he realized the betrayal.

Experiments. Slavery. Torture. His death.

Scenarios, infinitely numerous and infinitely grotesque, raced through his mind.

Except, as he panicked, he saw as the golden feathers became awash with a sickly pale green color, the same color he had come to associate with fear and panic and terror. And, as he noticed this, the pale green was replaced with the blue-violet of confusion.

Okay, he thought. Okay, maybe there is a way to hide this.

As he thought this, a light pink-yellow shade crept into his wings - hope.

He breathed deeply, tenderly stepping around the candles that had been left in front of his body locker, drawing his wings in tight to prevent them from knocking over the lit flames - or worse, catching fire.

All around the room, tiny trinkets and objects his men had held dear were carefully laid or propped up, tiny offerings to help him in his final march towards a battle far away. That was the idea, anyway.

Anakin only realized he had paused when his drooping wingtips knocked over a small wooden carving of a bantha, the grief-gray and guilt-gray-green feathers flinching in surprise and knocking over a few other nearby trinkets. The subsequent racket, though not terribly loud, was enough to make him freeze, that pale green color returning.

“What was that?” A voice sounded from right outside the door.

The Final Guard, Anakin realized. It was a tradition the clones had inherited from the Mandalorians, wherein the Final Guard - a select group of the deceased’s closest friends and allies - would stand watch over the body until it arrived at its final resting grounds.

“What was what?” A louder voice, one Anakin recognized as Hardcase’s voice, responded.

“Didn’t you hear that? That racket?” The first voice - Appo’s voice - hissed.

“I haven’t been able to hear much of anything since… well.”

A solemn pause, a heavy sigh.

“Get that checked out, vod,” Appo muttered.

“Once the Final Guard is done,” Hardcase agreed. “Oh, and the noise was probably just some of the offerings falling over.”

“Probably,” Appo concurred, voice thick with grief.

Breathing out a soft sigh of relief, Anakin tucked his wings tight against his sides as he eyed the vents. Those would be his best best out of the morgue, unless he wanted to knock out Hardcase and Appo with the Force, which he very much did not want to do.

It would be a tight squeeze, but maybe…

Unscrewing the vent and removing the cover was the easy part. Much harder to do was actually maneuvering his body into the small space that was a few feet above his head, all without making too much of a racket. He, however, had a secret weapon on his side: sheer Skywalker stubbornness.

Alas, he mused forlornly as he kicked uselessly at the air, finding himself stuck within the vent, I am also cursed with Skywalker stupidity.

His wings prevented him from moving forwards, the feathered limbs simply being too wide to fit, but also prevented him from reversing out of the vent, as any backwards motion bent the feathers the wrong way, sending sharp pin-pricks of pain through his newfound appendages.

“Stupid… kriff… damn these wings!” Anakin hissed under his breath, wiggling and wriggling each way in a fruitless attempt to free himself. With a sigh, he went limp, resigning himself to his fate. Still, as he reminisced on the events that had led him to this point - sulking, really, though he’d never admit it - he imagined his wings simply… disappearing.

And they did.

Painfully.

Very painfully.

Feathers fused back into flesh, hollow bones breaking up into thousands of fragments before merging into his muscles, tendons dissolving into goo and sticking to his sides until the wings were gone completely, with only his bleeding gums from where he had cracked a tooth on his metal hand, biting down on it to muffle his agony, to show for it.

Gasping and panting, tears streaming down his face, Anakin forced himself to move forwards with shaking hands. He had to keep moving. He had to keep going. Somehow he knew that his wings would come back, but he didn’t quite know what would bring them back. It could happen at any moment, for all he knew, trapping him in the vents until he reabsorbed them - something he very much was not keen on.

Well. At least he didn’t have to worry about having to hide them, though it wasn’t quite what he was hoping for.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the vent collapsing beneath him, sending him plummeting very ungracefully to the floor below…

Right in front of Rex.

The aura around the petrified clone Captain was a horrid shade of pale green and shock-silver, the man’s face draining of color as he stared down at Anakin’s frozen form, their eyes meeting.

Captain Rex collapsed in front of him, unconscious.

Well, shit.

[dykelizard]

hi guys! who remembers this! cause i just updated it! after a year and a half! who cheered!

[nibeul]

Hunter was not Rex. It wasn’t a fair comparison to make. Rex was at the head of a Company—would’ve likely been a Commander if Skywalker knew how promotions worked—and he had been in the war since its inception, fully grown into his role as a leader. The 501st was always in the thick of it and Echo remembered Rex in it with them, covered in the same dirt that stained all of their armor and never more than three steps behind their General.

[oceansssblue]

Okay, this REALLY fits into the rare pair, I envisioned some weird shit but this one really surprised me xD

I don't back down, though, I love a challenge. I wasn't sure how to aproach this but i think it ended up pretty fluffy. hope you like it!

PS. Please remember to specify what type of fic (fluff, smut, angst, etc) you wanna in any request u make me, I always get confused with this!

Xx, Blue.

"LOVELY CHAOTIC" - TECH/JAR JAR BINKS 💖

WARNINGS: none, pure fluff.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tech studies the mission report with rapt attention. It's not one of the batch's; but of the last trip of General Skywalker with Torrent Company, a small selected group of the 501st. It's a habit he has developed over the years; simultaneously checking as many as the GAR's missions as possible in order to extract valious information for future endevours. There's much to be learnt from past mistakes and errors; or conclusions –patterns– to abstract from triumphs. Usually, he doesn't delve in them too much –it would delay him in other equally important tasks–; but this one has individually stand out to him.

There has been a civilian involved, which is an anomally by itself. His name, upon further investigation, is Jar Jar Binks; a gungan made part of Naboo's representatives for the Senate, aiding Padme Amidala.

Tech had not heard much of gungan's before. He delves into a long research; his overactive mind quickly devouring articles upon articles and as many encyclopedias as he can find. He learns that there are two subspecies of gungans; Jar Jar Binks being an otolla, presenting with a lankier appearance and pronounced haillus as opposed to the more robust complexion of the ankura. It takes another hour for him to study their underwater cities; and by the time his brothers have fallen asleep, Tech is already an expert in the gungan tongue and their culture and traditions.

He navigates through the GAR's archives with ease and is surprised to find out just how many years has this Jar Jar Binks aided the Republic. The gungan had even fought along a padawan Obi-wan Kenobi and his master at the time, Qui-Gon Jhin; he had been there when the two Jedis had found General Skywalker on the warm sands of Tatooine. Tech takes the time to learn all of his story; and his intrigue only grows with every detail he finds.

Tech is a naturally curious person. He finds almost everything interesting; a trait often mocked by others in his early years. It's what makes him a good soldier, though, so he's not in any sense ashamed; there's nothing wrong in being appropiately informed. If any, it's others who should feel embarassed upon their blatant ignorance.

The clone is aware of how his honesty can often be confused with narcisism.

Tech plugs his headphones in and watches the few videos he can find about his most recent discovery; a small chuckle escaping here and there upon the gungan's antics. He's definitely a curious creature as well –though perhaps in not the same use of the word–.

Time passes by –more and more reports been discovered in the clone's short free time in between the Batch's own missions–. Without even noticing it, Tech grows fond of the excentric gungan.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He has always been a very straightforward person; so when he sees Jar Jar Binks in person on his way to the Marauder for their next mission, Tech doesn't think it twice. He aproaches him so directly that the gungan almost jumps in surprise.

"You must be Jar Jar Binks".

It's just a statement; but he guesses that's a good opening as any other. He's a stranger; this first encounter is going to be weird no matter his choice of words. He's not too worried about it.

The gungan blinks back at him, still a bit thrown back at the clone's sudden arrival.

Tech notices the humanoid is quite taller than him, which is an unusual situation to experience; he is used to feel tall surrounded by clones –just a few inches– shorter than him.

"Misa surprised you know me! Who are you?"

Tech controls the involuntary smile that threatens to spread through his lips upon hearing the entonations of his peculiar voice. At first, the clone had thought Jar Jar's way of speaking was just a consequence of the gungan's tongue; but after listening to several audios of other's talking he had concluded the very drastic highs and downs of Jar Jar's entonation were simply his. It was just his way of speaking; pushing surprise, excitement, and life into the words.

"I'm CT-9902, Tech. I'm a member of Clone Force 99, a squad made of defective clones with desirable mutations".

The gungan tilts his head with his words; his long haillus flapping gently with the movement. He looks just as –if not even more– confused as a second ago.

"You look normal human to me!" He studies him. "No like regular clone, no... What makes tusa special? Misa very, very curious!"

Tech gives him a quick sum up of the Batch's abilities; though this just seems to bring more and more questions from the gungan. It's sort of endearing, really, to find someone that seems to be just as curious as himself; the need for knowledge bubbling over Jar Jar's tongue in lively expresions. Tech has the oportunity to saciate his own questions about gungans, about him; and the conversation is only brought to an end when Hunter enters the hangar and shoots them a confused glance before gesturing for Tech to get moving with a jerk of his chin.

Reluctantly, Tech leaves Jar Jar behind and follows his brother to the Marauder. He is somewhat comforted thinking he and the gungan could be considered acquaitances now.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Weeks of similar interactions later, Tech gives Jar Jar a gift. Jar Jar holds the object within his hands, stunned; eyes comically large. It's a leather vambrace. It could mean nothing for other species, just an ordinary gift, but to gungans this is... Gifting a piece of protection is seen as a declaration of interest. But surely...

"This is a very special gift!" He half shouts, half whispers, eyes flickering between the object in his hands and the human. "Tech is a very smart clone. Tusa knows what this means?"

Tech's answer is a quiet –daresay, timid– nod.

Jar Jar makes another surprised sound with his throat.

"Misa can't believe it!" He frantically gestures around. "Misa clumsy, always find misa in silly, silly mistakes! Tusa smartest person in the world. Why tusa like Jar Jar Binks?"

A rush of confidence gives Tech courage to soldier through his next words.

"From a very and almost obsessively organised person, I find your personality lovely chaotic".

Jar Jar seems to brighten up, reading the honesty in the clone's eyes; his laugh freely echoing in the emptiness of the hangar.

He grins at Tech, and the soldier feels a metaphorical blanket of warmth gently falling around him.

"Misa didn't see this coming, but misa is very, very happy!"

Jar Jar is suddenly hugging him; and Tech is inmediately reminded of just how tall gungans really are. There's still many things to find out; and he'll let them come to life patiently and naturally.

THE END.

[wolviecat]

To become a part of the 501st, one had to proove he's willing to give it everything, to take whatever is thrown one's way, to have the stamina to go that extra mile… Puns aside, Echo and Fives got to show they have what it takes, and not only on the battleground.

Notes:

Kinktober prompt Deece play

@clonekinktober

[phoenixyfriend]

Thought- in the terracotta warriors thing, you mentioned that the Jedi archeologists brought in a specialist in mando iconography to try and work out what’s going on with the 501sts symbols- what if that outside specialist is jaster mereel? Could be pre becoming the mand’alor, could be just his side job, but either way he spends a few years studying it all and getting used to being the only mando in a base camp full of Jedi, makes friends, has academic discussions and disagreements, steals someone’s holopad to try and use the link to the Jedi archives to read all the things on tarre visla, gets into an actual argument, reconciles with agreeing to help with a historical reenactment of a Jedi mandolorian war, gets Madame nu’s comm number, introduces his new son to his comm bff who argues historical nitpicks with him, brings jango to the next summer at the site, clones react to jango somehow and/or there’s a few tubies in there who look distractingly like jango and/or someone has their helmet off and jango has a breakdown over it looking like a family member? And so on and so on

Context: Sleeping Soldiers AU

See, I don't really subscribe to the "halfway to archaeologist!Jaster" fanon. I'm especially reticent to engage with the Jocasta ship, honestly.

But... okay, here's the thing. It does feel pretty incongruous with how I've written Jaster thus far. I can believe him having like. A 'classical' education. Not actually tutored like a noble, but that he sought out the same subjects as an adult to make sure he understood how to rule once he started having a proper political angle. He's a history nerd in the way that a particularly political/philosophical aristocrat of the 18th century would have been.

Military history, philosophical history, political and even some arts... but not actually in an archaeological sense.

(Also, it raises my hackles because it's one of those things that feels like it's heavily associated with the whole "True Mandos Were Best Mandos" crowd.)

It also really depends on the era! Tarre makes more sense than Jaster, just because of the timescale! The soldiers are millennia buried by the time Jaster is born! That said, even Tarre is a few millennia late but... makes more sense than Jaster.

Most likely, there are historians and archaeologists coming by every few centuries, as new generations encounter the issue, and older analyses are lost in the depths of the archives. Frequency tapers off after a few millennia, but... by the time Jaster is around?

It's 100% a New Mandalorian with an art history doctorate. (With a military symbolism specialty, in this case.)

It's probably not a New Mando if it's an Early On moment, but it probably is a New Mando if the Jedi start getting Weird Vibes and investigating the soldiers in the decades leading up to the Prequels.

Would the New Mandalorians know more than the traditionalists? Not necessarily. Would they know less? Actually, no.

I firmly believe that the New Mandalorians are taught about their histories in a "German kids learn about WWII atrocities, going on field trips to historic sites of said horrors, so their teachers can stress that they don't repeat the mistakes of the past" kind of way. I imagine the New Mandos would have plenty of research and records in regards to actual history, with plenty of museums and such. Part of maintaining pacifism is ensuring that the coming generations understand what led them to pacifism in the first place.

Is this thousands of years in the past, and thus difficult to research? Yes, but the traditionalists would have that same problem.

More of them, even. If the New Mandos have been around for seven hundred years, like Legends claims, then the traditionalists have probably have lost a lot of history through various battles and bombings, while the New Mandalorians, while not entirely escaping large scale destruction and such attacks, are much more likely to have protected and maintained their sites, simply by not courting war as a matter of culture. The traditionalists, meanwhile, would have had a much stronger emotional and cultural attachment to legends and themes, though I'll admit those are probably prone to revisionism, much like real-world folklore and mythology.

As @atagotiak put it:

Ehhhh. The traditionalists do care about legends and history and stuff. Often in an idealized way, sure. But you could argue that they’d have more reason than new mandos to be into these stories. Which, to be clear, isn’t like, saying that Jaster is definitely a part-time historian or anything like that. It’s just I don’t think one side would have an advantage over another. (edited)

So the New Mandos and Trad Mandos are probably on an even playing ground, insofar as skill and resources and knowledge go.

But by Jaster's time, the Jedi would have more reason to think the New Mandos would cooperate. No real downside to asking them when it comes to knowledge/skill, and an upside in terms of 'not getting shot when asking.'

As Tia said:

And even if we assume Jaster is a big history nerd and would be receptive to the Jedi (and tbh there’s even less indication of the latter) there’s no reason to think the Jedi would know that.

So yeah, when the soldiers start having Vibes And The Force Becomes Suspiciously Active on that level... New Mando archaeologist, definitely.