#I WILL BITE YOU TUBI

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

BRO LEAVE ME ALONE I DONT CARE ABOUT THE FREAKY AHH KID WITH THE FUCKING FLESH HAT

A story about a boy who wore his fandom on his head.

[varpusvaras]

It happens very quickly.

One moment Seventeen is sitting next to Fox, listening to him talk about the newest project he is doing and the newest legislation his husband is trying to get through in the Senate and the newest program his wife has established. The tubie (baby, he corrects himself, if he remembers to do so. Nat-borns prefer that term to be used. The word 'tubie' tends to make them uncomfortable) is sitting on Fox's lap, trying to chew on his fingers. Fox keeps tugging them out of the tubie's mouth every other second, and every time Seventeen pays attention to the tubie for longer than one second, he looks to be getting increasingly frustrated about it. Seventeen remembers vaguely Fox saying something about teething and bite marks.

Then the tubie starts to fuss, kicking his legs in the air like a bug that has fallen onto its back, and Fox tries to calm him down by hoisting him on his shoulder and patting him on his bottom. Seventeen is increasingly glad over the fact that all the boys were already way over this age when he had to start looking after them.

The tubie fusses more, and now starts to whine a little. At the same time, Fox's commlink starts to ring. Fox ignores it for a while, but then actually glances at it and grimaces.

"I have to take that one", he says, maneuvers the tubie (Even, Seventeen reminds himself. The tubie's name is Even) on his other shoulder and picks the commlink up, and at that point, the tubie starts to borderline cry.

Fox looks at the tubie, looks at the commlink, and then looks at Seventeen.

Seventeen tries to say no, but Fox is too quick, and plops the tubie on Seventeen's lap and very quickly steps away.

"Keep him entertained for a moment", Fox says, and then adds, like the little shit he is, "You survived all of us, you will survive him for three minutes."

He then, again, very quickly retreats to the next room over, leaving Seventeen and the tubie alone with each other. Seventeen is honestly not sure which one of them dislikes it more.

The tubie (baby and Even, Seventeen reminds himself again) seems to take personal offense in being left alone with Seventeen. Honestly, Seventeen can't blame him for it.

"Still", Seventeen says, out loud, and grabs Even under his tiny arms and turns him around so Seventeen can look him in the face, "your buir keeps telling me how much of an angel you are compared to Rex's pair of shebs. Where's that energy now?"

That...actually makes Even to stop all the crying and whining. He looks at Seventeen with his dark eyes wide open, and then grins and makes some sort of gurgling sound, that Seventeen thinks might be a laugh of some sort.

Then he reaches his hands up and stuffs them both into his mouth.

"Do not", Seventeen says, trying his best to get a better grip on the little body in his hands so he can get them out. He doesn't have to do so, in the end, because as soon as he begins to move, Even pulls his hands out of his mouth by himself, and proceeds to slap them both right on Seventeen's face.

They are very wet and there is definitely a trail of spit coming from Even's mouth to his hands. Seventeen makes a face at it. Even makes the gurgling attempt of laugh again and proceeds to slap Seventeen for the second time.

"Okay", Seventeen grunts, pushing his arms out so he can keep the tubie away from his face. "You are definitely your buir's kid."

He gets more gurgling and flying spit as an answer.

[notitlesapply]

So I thought of a funny Waxer & Boil (with bonus Cody) scenario that I wanted to share, that is slightly based off real events.

So my kid (who is a toddler) likes looking over my shoulder when I scroll through Tumblr and the kid has started to recognize the clones whenever they appear. The baby is very excited when seeing a clone, pointing at the screen and shouting happily. The thing is, the baby calls all of them Cody. All of them. (To be fair, Cody shows up the most on my dash.)

So it made me think about what if Cody were to rescue a civilian toddler, and he was the first clone the kid ever interacted with. However, Cody's pretty busy, so he passes off the baby to Waxer and Boil. Waxer is ecstatic. Boil grumbles that just because they rescued Numa that one time that doesn't make them qualified to be babysitters. (Crys offers to take Boil's place, but Boil practically bites his hand off. Like hell Boil's gonna let someone else take his responsibility.)

Anyway, Waxer is trying to teach the little "tubie" some new words, but the kid just keeps saying "Cody" and bopping Waxer on the nose. At first, Waxer is worried that the kid has gotten attached to Cody but when he tries to pass the baby to Obi-Wan to give to Cody, the baby reaches back to Waxer demandingly shouting "Cody Cody Cody!"

Obi-Wan: I think this little one wants to stay with you, Waxer.

Waxer: *confused* But I'm not Cody.

Boil: *snorting* I don't think the tubie knows any better. Lemme show you. Kid, who am I?

Toddler: Cody! 🥰

Boil: *points to Waxer* And who's this?

Toddler: 'Nother Cody! 🥰

Boil: *points to Obi-Wan* And this guy?

Toddler: *confused* Not Cody?

Waxer is a little devastated. He doesn't want this tubie to be like those asshole nat-borns who can't tell clones apart! Boil on the other hand is like, "it's a kid and doesn't know any better. It's fine."

But Waxer is determined. He's going to get this baby to tell them apart. It's his mission.

Waxer: I'm Waxer! And this is Boil! Can you say that? Wax-er. Bo-il.

Toddler: Cody! 🥰

Waxer: 😭

As the day goes on Waxer is falling deeper and deeper into despair. Boil is starting to find the whole thing hilarious. The baby sees any clone and is super happy, but still calls them all Cody. Boil starts showing the baby different pictures of different clones trying to see if the kid says anything different. (He also films it.)

Boil: *holds up a picture of Commander Fox* Who's this?

Toddler: Cody! 🥰

Boil: *holds up picture of Commander Wolffe* And this?

Toddler: Cody! 🥰

Boil: *ruffles kid's hair* Good job, kiddo!

Waxer: Don't encourage them! 😭

Boil's pretty sure this video is going to get him a ton of stuff in the GAR trading circles. He just needs to find the right person to give it to...

Anyway they eventually take the kid to the mess hall for mid-meal. Of course the place is packed with clones.

Toddler: *awed* Look at all these Codys! 🥰🥰🥰

Waxer: *crying a little* The baby is going to grow up to be an anti-clone asshole!

Toddler: *looking up at Waxer* Don't be sad, Cody.🥺🥺🥺

Boil: *camera rolling* 🤣🤣🤣 Yeah, don't be sad Cody!

Eventually, Boil and the rest of the 212th convince Waxer it isn't that bad.

Trapper: It's not like the kid is calling us anything terrible like flesh-droids or meat-puppets.

Longshot: And at least we're being named after someone cool. Imagine if we were all called Threepwood.

Threepwood: Hey!

Wooley: I think it's kinda cute the kid calls us all Cody. They obviously like the Commander and now likes all of us!

Crys: 🤔 Do you think we can convince other nat-borns that we're Cody? Think about what we could get away with!

Waxer stares at the baby. The baby stares back, and then gives him a giant smile. Waxer melts.

Eventually they have to give the kid up. The 212th (especially Waxer) are sad to see the baby go. Luckily, they were able to find the kid's family. And while the 212th aren't headed in that direction, the 501st are, so the 501st offers to ferry the kid back home. Obi-Wan, Cody, Waxer, and Boil are all there to transfer the kid to Anakin and Rex.

Of course, as soon as their eyes land on Rex, the baby cries out happily "Cody! 🥰"

Cody: *gently* No, no, that's Rex. See? He's blue.

Toddler: *nodding sagely* Rex...he blue.

Waxer: 😱 Wait, that's all it takes?! 🤯

Boil: 🤣

(The whole 501st is now "Rex." Some of them *coughFivescough* abuse this.)

[thatonefanficwriternooneknows]

FoxQuin Week Day 3: Fox is Haunted

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night!

Back at it again with Day 3! (officially finished Day 6 at 3.8k words, I was POSSESSED I swear!) Anyway!

This one is completely inspired by It Was Only A Matter Of Time by Anon on ao3! (Love it, want to live in it, please it's so good) and is a bit longer than the other two days <3

Once again! Day 3 prompts: Fox/Coruscant is Haunted/"This is my only day off in weeks and you want me to help you commit a crime?"

Please enjoy! <3

--

Ever since Fox was a tubie he’s seen things that he shouldn’t have.

From Priest fight circles, to certain trainers sharing bunk with other trainers, to faint blue projections of fallen brothers.

It was the latter that always seemed to get him the most…interesting situations.

They knew things that no living vod did and it was something Fox coveted. The illusive knowledge. The inner workings of what went on behind the b’Kaminiise blank expressions.

It saved Fox a lot as a cadet, save his batchers, saved a lot of vode who might not have made it if it weren’t for his impossible knowledge.

All this to say, Fox was a little pissed that this fun ability of his was coming around to bite him in the shebs on his only day off in the last three months.

Some mir’sheb who went on an on about control chips in brains, the Chancellor being evil, and something about how Fox owed him for killing him.

Fox has never killed a vod so obviously this one was just saying absolutely anything to Fox’s attention. It was only working a little bit. Mostly because Fox’s day off tended to consist of staring at the bottom of Thorn’s bunk until something came to steal his attention.

Normally Quinlan.

Right now, it was this Fives mir’sheb.

“Un-kriffing-believable. I die for the good of vode everywhere and the only one who can see me is my killer and he can’t be assed to do osik besides stare at the bottom of a bunk. I bet he can’t even see me.” The blue Fives grumbled, trying (and failing) to kick at a dirty set of blacks Thire left on the floor like a heathen.

Fox sighed.

Whelp.

No one here to stop him from bad decisions.

“No offense, vod, but I’m pretty sure I’d remember killing a brother, so you’ll need to come up with new material to get my attention.”

Fox only got a moment to enjoy the look of Fives’ flabbers being gasted before his door slammed open with a delighted “Foxy!” echoing in the small space.

Oh good.

Quinlan was here.

In no time at all, the Jedi flopped on top of him and nuzzled into the slight stubble Fox couldn’t be assed to shave this morning, cooing at Fox’s deserved grumbles.

They both knew that Fox loved cuddles more than breathing.

It was the point of it all!

“Hey Foxy, my favorite clone in the history of clones, and my fluffy prickly menace to end all menaces.” Quinlan cooed, laying little kisses on Fox’s jaw and cheeks.

“What do you want, Quinlan? It’s my day off.”

“Oh, I know, baby. I thought we could go on a little date.”

Well that had the possibility of being interesting…

“What kind of date?” Fox was ignoring the spluttering blue vod like his life was in the balance, focusing instead on cool leatheris gloves pushing aside his kute to leave lingering trails like he was being paid to.

Fox pushed into the feeling and hummed as Quinlan started sucking determinedly on the juncture between neck and jaw, biting lightly so Fox could really feel it.

Sensing the mood, Fox let Quinlan do as he pleased, resting his own arms over the Jedi’s broad shoulders and just letting him do what he wanted.

It was better to wait him out at this point.

And the ministrations were delightful anyway.

Quinlan always did have the decency to make waiting a pleasure instead of a chore.

“What the kriff is going on? Commander Fox fucks?”

Fox stifled a laugh by burying his face into Quinlan’s gold adorned locs, smiling at the smell of rich hair oils and the tang of the metal clasps.

“The scrupulous kind of date.” Quinlan kissed both cheeks before leaning back and smiling brilliantly at Fox like he wasn’t just asking him out to do some less than legal activities. “One involving petty terms like accessory and accomplice and other things that may or may not apply to you depending on the courts.”

“This is my only day off in weeks and you want me to help you commit a crime?”

“Baby, I would ask your help to commit a crime any time. It’s just more fun when it’s your day off because you don’t put on your Commander persona and have a better time.” Quinlan pecked him on the lips with a smirk and Fox rolled his entire head at the Kiffar’s attempt to sweet talk him.

“You just get horny when you watch me take down the filth of the lower levels without worrying about not hurting them.” Fox deadpanned, pulling Quinlan closer as he laughed.

“Mmm. Your competence really does get me going, ankai’a.” Quinlan spoke against his lips and Fox groaned at the familiar pet name wiggling in his ears.

“I’m serious. Since when has the Commander of the Guard fucked? What reality am I living in? Is he a kriffing Jedi?!!”

“We might have a tag a long to our crimes, but he can’t say anything to anyone who will punish us.” Fox murmured into Quinlan’s mouth, groaning when his Jedi used the opportunity to swipe his tongue on the back of Fox’s teeth.

“Oh? New ghosty following you around?”

“Mmmm. Says his name is Fives and I killed him.”

Quinlan jerked back and looked at Fox with pupils blown wide.

“He’s a Force Ghost?!”

Fox furrowed his brows and cocked his head against the flat pillow.

“Yes? Did you know him?”

“Was he mentioning something about chips?”

“Yes?”

Quinlan cackled into the small bunk and even Ghost Fives was giving him a concerned stare. Fox wasn’t super worried. That was Quinlan’s “everything is lining up better than I hoped” cackle.

“Good! You can help me pick his brain on our way to our date!” Quinlan pulled Fox out of the bunk before darting to the clothes crate and winging some of Fox’s undercover clothes at him.

“Where are we going?”

“The underbelly of the Rotunda.”

“Why?” Fox shucked his blacks with little care to his voyeurs, slipping into an outfit similar to a senate aide, while pushing Quinlan for a little more information.

“Shaak questioned the Kaminiise about the so-called behavioral chips that they said malfunctioned to explain Fives and Tup, but I asked Obi and he said there was nothing in the contract he got from what’s-his-face about any behavioral chips. So, I’m going digging.”

Quinlan tied his locs up into a neat but lopsided updo, painted his lips a deep Corrie red, and covered his qukuuf with thick face paint.

It was almost as if the Jedi was used to sneaking into the Senate looking like an aide.

Fox nodded along for the most part, using black to paint his lips and varying make up shades to contour his face to look less like a clone.

Fives was watching this all with a dropped jaw and a gaping mouth.

“You’re going to catch flies.” Fox muttered to him, turning to face Quinlan so he could artfully tussle Fox’s hair to look more purposefully done. “Why are we digging in the Senate?”

“Well, the last being to see Fives before he went all aggressive and shit was the Chancellor so-” Fox cut Quinlan off with a deep kiss and a quick goose to his shebs before dancing out of the way of grabby hands.

“Say less, cyare. Any reason to finally get to kill the Chancellor is good enough for me.”

“I knew you’d see it my way!”

Quinlan wrapped an arm around Fox’s waist and strutted out the Command Barracks with a whistle, greeting Guards by name as he led Fox out into the streets of Coruscant.

Fives trailed behind them slowly.

“Seriously. What the fuck?”

[cc1010fox]

Rex: What is wrong with that squad? Why are they such...pricks? Cody: They think they're better than us... Rex: What are we going to do? I'd prove them wrong, but their Jedi is hovering around them like flies on-- Cody: There is one thing we could do... Rex: Oh yeah? Cody: We are on Coruscant... Rex: You mean--? Cody: Yes. Rex: How is he supposed to help? He'll bend over backwards for any authority. Cody: No, Rex. Unless they're a senator, he bends for no Jedi. Fox, arriving after a certain call: Let's go. I can't wait to put them back in their place. Rex: Is he really going to fight the Jedi? Cody: He might. It depends. Rex: On what? Cody: If he interferes. Fox: Hey, Tubie Squad! Why don't you ask your tubiesitter if you're allowed to come out and play? Cody: He's eager for a fight. Fox: Yeah, I'm talking to you! How the kriff are you going to land on my planet and act like you're something special? Do you know where you are!? Look around you, boys! You're on Coruscant! You're irrelevant here. Coruscant has her Guard. Rex: I swear I can see steam coming out of that Jedi's ears. Fox: Tell your clonewalker to let you off your leashes. Unless you're all bark and no bite. Come on, boys, let me show you what a real bite is like. Cody: Wait until they realize he's not being metaphorical. Rex: Here comes the Je--Oof...That's going to hurt in the morning. I like this side of Fox. Cody: Less talking, more fighting!

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Crying at Death’s Door: Bo Sinclair x afab!reader

18+

Warnings: allusions to an abusive Bo, asking about dying, bondage,crying, Bo calls reader a dog (yes a dog and not a bitch), afab reader, no pronouns used.

A/N: I literally watched like 6 minutes before this scene and then the scene itself and I’ve watched this scene so many fucking times it’s not even funny. This is only lightly based on the scene. Movie is Dead Ringers it’s free on Tubi and I guess the shows coming out April 21st too (this time lesbians). Also me using “kneels properly” if your Catholic you know

Masterlist

You whine softly and wiggle your arms. They’re spread and tied across the metal footboard. You don’t know how long you’ve been like this. All you know is that prior to this you were in the basement under the gas station, then you’d been moved to a small doctors office in the house, and lastly to what you assume is Bo’s bedroom.

You didn’t bother to try to escape any of your situations, you’d given up on that a week into your kidnapping, there wasn’t a point when you had no contact with any of your family and your friends were all dead, you just had to wait for your death.

You assumed it would be soon, Bo used your body already and took so many pictures of you, hanging them in that dingy room. You’d seen all of the girls and recognized some when you had went into the wax museum that day. You know your friends are in there and god you’d do anything to be with them, especially with this growing anxiety of not knowing when Bo would pull the plug on your life.

The front door opens and you perk up, recognizing Bo’s footsteps immediately. Your arms tingle as you wiggle a bit more wanting to run to the man. The foot steps fade and you assume he’s going to the basement, which was Vincent’s work area. You put two and two together that that’s where the floor door had led to when you decided to look around when you were strapped to the medical bed in their father’s office.

Minutes later Bo is back on the main floor, you hear the sink go off, and the slam of the microwave. It hums then beeps a few minutes later.

Bo’s footsteps start up again and this time get louder and louder as he ascends the stairs.

The bedroom door opens and Bo can be seen on the other side holding water and a microwaveable pasta. You look tiredly up at him.

“You been good baby?” He asks, walking into the room and sitting in between your spread legs. You nod at his question, thinking you have been.

“Nice to know you like tellin’ the truth to me now. Asked Vincent if you’d been cryin’ or tryin’ to escape, said he couldn’t hear a thing from you. You’re so good. Such a good baby.” Bo coos and brushed his thumb across your face. You smile lazily and lean into his touch. “Made you a little snack.”

Snack? This has been lunch and dinner for months for you. Those stupid microwaveable meals, now he’s saying they’re a snack?

“Dinner ain’t until late.”

Bo takes the water and tilts it into your mouth, you drink until half of it is gone, not wasting a single drop and for once Bo isn’t trying to make you fuck up.

He takes the pasta and stabs some noodles with the fork, bringing it to your mouth you bite the noodles off of it. A snack. A little treat before dinner. What the hell was dinner gonna be then?

“Doin’ so good.”

Your heart flutters at his praise. God it’s done that since you first met him. Even when he had you in the basement he could fuck you up and his sweet talking would change your mind completely about him. Bo Sinclair had you wrapped around his finger since you two laid eyes on each other.

You finish the meal and Bo let’s you drink the rest of the water. He gets up and leaves only to be back a minute later with a refilled water he sets on one side of the bed.

“H-“ You let out a small noise when Bo walks in. He raises a brow and starts getting undressed, most likely to get into comfortable clothes.

“You can talk, what is it?”

“Hhow was your day?” Your voice cracks between speaking and a whisper.

“Was alright.”

You stare at him in only his boxers. You’d never seen him with little clothes on, he always had his shirt and pants on even if it was just a little when he fucked you. He finally takes his boxers off and walks over, kneeling and scooting forward setting you onto his lap. He touches your tied arms and smiles. Then Bo looks into your eyes and leans in kissing your lips softly, feeling up and down your thighs. You wiggle wanting to touch him. You never got used to being tied up, always begging to touch him, just for a second with your hands. Just to hold his face.

Bo moved his lips down your jaw and kisses your clothed shoulder, he unbuttons one then two buttons on the shirt and kisses your chest.

“Just waitin’ for me ta come back? Makin’ sure you were so good when I was gone. Such a good dog.”

You moan at the pet name and shift in his lap trying to get Bo’s cock to touch your clit. Bo kisses your lips again and moves his hand in between your legs. You don’t wear underwear, haven’t worn any since he tore them off in the basement. He has easier access to your cunt that way. He told you himself.

His middle and ring finger slide between your folds, only just brushing your clit, then dipping into your pussy.

Your mouth opens, you cry out and Bo smirks touching at your g-spot over and over again. He kisses your cheeks and bites your ear lobe.

“Been so good to me baby. You don’t fight me or nothin’ ain’t fought me since you got into that chair. You want me that much huh?”

Bo’s hand gets rougher and he puts more pressure into you.

“Yeah! Yeah Bo I-ah I- do!” Your back arches against the metal frame, it hurts but Bo’s fingers feel too good for you to care.

“I like hearin’ those noises, keep goin’.” Bo sucks on your neck. You whine, rolling your eyes up. You feel a tightness in your core.

“Please, Bo I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum. Please keep going!”

He quickens his pace and you squirm, squirting into Bo’s hand. You cry out vision turning white, your body trembles as he rides you though your high.

“Messy ass dog.” Bo says, before dropping you on his lap and licking the palm of his hand to his fingers, then sucking on them. You watch in a haze, smiling lazily, too out of it to feel flustered.

“You like cumming on my fingers?”

You nod frantically.

“What about my cock?” Bo teases, you nod again. “Say it then.”

Embarrassment unravels, your mouth opens, closes then opens again.

“Go on. Been so good, say it or you won’t get it.”

“I-I like cumming on your cock Bo.”

You can’t even cover your face to try and hide. Doesn’t matter anyways cause when you try and turn your head away away Bo grabs your face and tuts at you. “Say it again, bein’ truthful aren’t we? You’d admit it to me twice wouldn’t you?”

“Yes..” Your hips wiggle , trying to adjust yourself on Bo’s lap. You were getting worked up again.

“Then say it, no stuttering either.”

“I like cumming on your cock Bo. I like when you cum in me too.” Your eyes read desperate. He hums in approval and kisses your forehead.

“Good dog.”

Bo kneels properly, your ass slowly slides off of him but he holds you up, he holds his cock with his other hand and slowly slides into you, stretching you out. You moan into his shoulder.

“So tight for me.” Bo mumbles. He pulls out and pushes back in a few times, just sitting there for a some seconds each to get used to the stretch. Then he fucks into you somewhere between a slow and fast pace. Kissing you roughly. The bed creaks, especially the bars that you’re tied to, as you bang into them. Bo wraps his arm around your waist, and uses his other hand to hold onto the footboard.

You wanna grab Bo and hold him so badly. You let out soft cries, but hope Bo just mistakes them for you moaning. He seems to as his pace never stops.

“You like being like this? Always tied up for me? Like me being in control?” Bo grunts, you nod and kiss his shoulder and you his neck, stopping at his jaw.

“Yes, yes I do! I love being ready to be used. I love when you take control of my body and I don’t have to think.” You babble, Bo’s hold on you tightens.

“Always know what to say. You’re so good at not thinking. You’re a good dog.” Bo’s hand goes to move the hair from your face and kiss all over it. You mewl, your cunt tightening around his cock.

His thumb hooks into your mouth, it opens without hesitation and he spits in it. You pant and wait for him to close your mouth but he spits again. Then closes it. You wait again as he pounds into you. “Swallow.” And you do. You roll your hips into him and whine, your pussy pulsates.

“Gonna cum? Tell me.”

Your back arches. More loud loans come from your chest.

“Yeah, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum on your cock!” Your mouth hangs open, you let the moans escape you as Bo thrusts faster into you.

“Come on, cum on my cock.”

He thrusts a couple of more times and again, your eyes roll back and vision flashes white. You let out a loud squeal, your body shaking. He fucks you through your orgasm.

“Want me to cum in you?” Bo asks, you nod lazily. He keeps at his pace, your body shakes at the overstimulation, he cums in your cunt, groaning into your shoulder.

Bo kisses your cheek and unties both of your arms. He kisses your wrists softly, the marks still not as bad as his. Your arms are sore but regardless you wrap them around Bo. You kiss and hold his face, running your hands through his hair for the first time. You almost sob, in fact you do. How many more times would you get to touch him with your hands before he killed you?

Bo doesn’t say a thing as you cry, only softly shushing you. He hates crying, shit stresses him out and almost, almost pisses him off. He thinks it’s about sex. “You did so good for me.”

You nod into him and he shushes you more.

You finally calm down and lean against the footboard. “So how much longer do I have?” You ask, your eyes puffy and red.

Your lip trembled but you try and keep your composure, regardless of the anxiety swimming laps in your stomach.

“What do ya mean?” Bo’s brows furrow.

You reword your statement. “When are you going to kill me?” You look into his beautiful blue eyes. Something of anger shows in them before disappearing. Instead it returns in his voice.

“You tryin’ to leave me or somethin’?” Bo sounds accusatory. You ignore it.

“No, I just notice a pattern. You tie all of your victims in that chair, you take pictures of them as a trophy and kill them. I don’t wanna go anywhere but if I am going somewhere I’d like to at least know when.”

Bo sneers. “Ya ain’t gettin’ that same treatment. You told me you’ve been good and proven that to me. You ain’t goin’ no where. You’re mine.”

You suck in some air and smile. “Okay, that’s all I wanted to know.”

Bo kisses your nose and wraps his arms under your ass before standing and setting you onto his soft bed. “I got you some clothes and I’m makin’ dinner for us later.” Bo explains. He slides in next to you and and shuffle so you’re under the blanket and cuddled into Bo’s side. “I don’t want you ever thinkin’ I’m gonna kill you. I would’ve done it already if I wanted you gone.”

You nod into his chest and close your eyes drifting into a small nap.

[disastercyborgecho]

SOBB Week #4 [Both Prompts]

I made myself cry with this one boys

@summer-of-bad-batch

Prompt: Cadets

Prompt: “You really think you’re going without me? Not going to happen.”

CW: Death (the gentle, soft kind, that we all hope awaits us)

One of my favorite lines from this:

'But he and his brothers were collared beasts no longer. They were standing on shaking new legs, reborn as something gentler, with teeth never meant to rip and tear and hurt. All learning to walk together.'

Something about those dog metaphors ruins me every time. I wanted to explore the depression that Echo struggles with, and how that looks when someone doesn't have a name for it, but still faces it head on every day. How it looks with a found family that you didn't necessarily ask for, not at first. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Comments/constructive criticism welcome :)

***

No Longer a Biting Beast

Song Listened to while writing: Half-Return by Adrianne Lenker

Echo knew that the Bad Batch considered him family. He understood that logically, emotionally, what have you. But deep down, just under his heart where his body was still his and not machine, he felt as though he was an outsider to a group of people that knew each other in a way he would never understand.

They were cadets together. Boys together, for however short it had been.

Before Order 66, before everything had gotten worse and gotten better all at once, Echo could not help step into the role of observer easily aboard the Marauder.

He would watch Hunter and Wrecker play-fight while he settled down in the cockpit, cackling and wrestling each other to the floor with juvenile energy, laughing as they held each other down, Wrecker tugging Hunter’s bandana into his eyes and shouting with glee and Hunter claiming “That’s still cheating, you know! Doesn’t matter we’re not tubies anymore!” 

As they shared rations before bunking down, he would watch the way Crosshair and Tech would pick apart the food they didn’t like, passing it back and forth wordlessly until both ended up with a full meal of something they actually enjoyed. It was practiced and calm, something done even running on little to no sleep because the same thing had been done since they were only 5 years out of the tube. Echo would eat his own rations, dry on his tongue, and have to look away, because the person that he used to share with was gone forever. 

It wasn’t as though Echo was trying to be an outsider. He had joined CF 99 because he was one already in his old battalion. He saw it on Rex’s face, eyes so tired for someone so young still, watching regs that used to be Echo’s brothers sneer at him or avoid him as best they could. Rex didn’t approve, but there was only so much one man could do, and both he and Echo knew it. It was war, and if Echo didn’t fit, then he would go somewhere where he could keep fighting. It was all any of them knew. 

In battle, Echo didn’t feel separated from his new brothers, not anymore anyway. They had practiced their formations, their plans, everything, until he was just another cog in a perfect bloody machine. He pretended like he didn’t crave that feeling of anonymity, just another face among identical faces, in every other moment of his life. 

But inevitably, he would find himself back in the cockpit of the Marauder, watching a scene play out in front of him that drove home how long these men had known each other. An inside joke, a reference to a battle he wasn’t there for, and memories of cadet training that Echo would never understand. It was bitter in his mouth alongside rations he couldn’t share.

When Omega joined them, when Crosshair left, he was too busy to stick his fingers in the hole left in his chest by trauma and isolation. He had to keep Omega safe. Keep his brothers safe.

And with Cross gone, everyone was feeling out a new space in a family that suddenly, painfully, looked very different. But then Cross was back, and everything was different. And everything was the same. Because these men had been cadets together, and that would never change, and Hunter and Wrecker were still too used to only one other man to wrestle with to ask Echo to join, and Tech and Cross only exchanged food with one another. Because every little thing that was a happy moment from their ‘childhood’ they guarded like feral dogs, latching onto it and shaking it to make sure it would stay with them forever. Echo couldn’t blame them.

Echo thinks that perhaps this is why he left to join Rex in the end. Because he was a dog too, his teeth blunt from gnawing on something long rotten, and he craved something new to rip into. He craved the familiar meat of identical faces and identical voices and a language passed down and taught in secret to those coming after them, holding onto anything that they could call their own besides their names. 

But too soon, sooner than others because of metal veins and gears in his heart, Echo became an old dog, teeth gone and fur patchy. He wanted to keep fighting, keep chasing something to fill up that hole in his chest, but Rex placed a heavy calloused hand on his shoulder, the other on his chest, handprint warm where it was once painted onto armor, and he pressed their foreheads together. They both had more wrinkles now, but Echo could remember when they were both young, moving through the ranks. When they were cadets, too. 

“Go home, vod’ika,” Rex whispered. “It’s okay to rest. It’s time.” 

So Echo went home. 

Pabu was the same as when he had last seen it, but more faces there looked like his own had when he was with the 501st, when he was still whole. And there were the faces that he knew so well now, too, waiting for him. 

He hadn’t realized how much he had missed them until the moment that he saw them all there, curled up in the sun, faces tanned and relaxed. Happy. 

Omega glanced up, and when she saw him she squealed in happiness and sprinted toward him as though a string pulled her there uncontrollably. Echo scooped her up without hesitation, laughing with her, tears in his eyes, before pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m home, vod’ika,” he whispered to her. “I’m home.” 

His brothers joined them, pulled to him just as Omega had, and the hole in his chest didn’t feel like it was so big.

It was still there as he carved out a space for himself on Pabu. It would probably never leave. But he and his brothers were collared beasts no longer. They were standing on shaking new legs, reborn as something gentler, with teeth never meant to rip and tear and hurt. All learning to walk together.

Slowly, painfully sometimes, Echo stitched a patch over the hole.

The threads were made of his brothers, of his sister. Of Cross’s shaking hand, of Tech’s pink scars still raw and new, of Wrecker’s fishing lures strung through their kitchen, and Hunter’s jackets left draped over the couch in their living room. Of Omega and her friends leaving dirty boots by their doorstep and falling asleep tangled up together in Echo’s bed as he told them stories of his own days as a cadet, tangled up with his brothers telling their own. Winding together until they were indistinguishable. 

In this way, he aged. Grey hair, crow’s feet from laughter, the whole nine yards. And so did his brothers. They may not have been boys together, but they made their final home together. They grew old together. It was not something any of them had believed could happen, but here they were. On their porch in Pabu, watching the sun set over the water, rocking gently in chairs woven and built by Wrecker and Tech, painted bright yellows and blues by Crosshair. Tech was asleep on Cross’ shoulder, and Hunter held a soft smile on his face as the sun warmed the freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. Wrecker was drawing something in a notebook, the familiar scratches of his pencil on paper a soft lullaby. Echo looked out at the sun, at his home, and then back at his family. And he realized that he felt like he fit. That he was going to join the stars among people that loved him most. He sighed, and leaned his head back in his chair. He was not scared, as the darkness approached. He welcomed it, after all this time. And as he had one foot on one side of the veil and one on the other, he saw him. 

Fives was standing next to his chair, a hand on his shoulder, but he did not look like Echo remembered him. He was old too. His hair had grayed, his beard grown out, and smile lines settled deep on his face. He looked down at Echo and grinned, and that was still the same. He beckoned Echo toward the light, and Echo stood to follow. Then he felt something tug at his other shoulder. He looked behind him, and saw his brothers. 

They were still in their chairs as the sun slowly set on the bad batch, but they also stood with him, and Hunter, who had stopped him, smiled. 

“You really think you’re going without us? Not going to happen.”

His family nodded. 

“We’re going together.” Crosshair added, determined as always.

And Echo couldn’t ask for anything else.

As they followed Fives into the stars, their bodies left warm and asleep in the fading sun, they became young again.

Six cadets made their way to the next life, laughing and stumbling over one another as they looked forward to their next adventure. One they would face together.

***

AO3 Link

[vodika-vibes]

hello 👋

I would like to request something for Alpha 17, he deserves all the love and kisses and I thought something with a hot and heavy makeout session, idk I normally don’t request so I don’t know if this is correct 🫠

thanks and much love 💕

So This Is Love

Summary: Alpha is late coming to bed, so you go and get him.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x F!Reader

Word Count: 937

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: This is a totally fine request! Thank you so much for making it! I love writing Alpha-17.

Divider by Saradika

It’s late. So late that you’re pretty sure that everyone has gone to bed, but you’re still awake, your burning eyes locked on the holo, and darting to the chrono on your wall every now and then.

The minutes are ticking away, and it’s nearing one am at this point.

But Alpha-17 still hasn’t returned to your rooms.

And you’re starting to grow concerned.

You push yourself to your feet and slip a pair of shoes on, before you open the door and step into the dimmed hallway. You silently ghost by the cadet dormitories, as well as the nursery for the tubies, and you follow the simple blue line on the wall that leads to Alpha’s office.

The Kaminoans were forced to give Topica City to the clones. You’re not really sure why, but you know the Jedi insisted on it.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter, because you were able to hand the cadets as much paint as their little hearts desired, and now the walls are a riot of color. 

And one clever young cadet drew perfect lines on the walls leading to the trainers offices.

So you set your hand on the blue line, and you followed it down the hall.

You reach Alpha’s office and key in the door code, and then you step into the well lit room. True to your thoughts, your perfect man is still behind his desk, one hand tangled in his hair, while his exhausted gaze remains locked on the datapad in his hands.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” His voice is a low rumble, and you close your eyes as his voice washes over you, you can sit and listen to him talk for hours.

“Shouldn’t you?” You retort with a small laugh.

Alpha’s head snaps up, and he favors you with a small smile, “Cyare.” He greets you quietly, as he pushes his seat back slightly.

“You didn’t come to bed.” You explain as you cross the room, and sit on his lap. You reach up and lightly trail one finger down his jawline, “And I thought that I had better come and check on you.”

Alpha sighs and leans into your touch, “You should be asleep.” He chides without any heat in his voice.

“How am I supposed to sleep without you next to me?” You retort with an easy smile.

He chuckles and leans in to press his face against your neck, “So what you’re saying is that I spoil you?”

You hum in response and reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, “I think I deserve to be spoiled, as a treat.”

He laughs outright at that, “Do you?” Alpha asks as he pulls away to look at you.

“I do.” You grin at him.

“Hm, well then. What does my little love want most?” He teases, his large hand coming up to brush the back of your neck.

“Mm…a billion credits.”

He laughs again, “Sorry, love. I don’t think my backpay will be that much.”

You heave an exaggerated sigh, “Well, I suppose I can make do with a kiss.”

“Only one?”

“Or two…or ten?”

“Greedy,” Alpha murmurs as he pulls you in to ghost his lips over yours, “Very, very greedy. I should do something about that.”

You lean in to try and catch his lips in a proper kiss, but he moves back so you can’t quite reach him, “Alpha,” You whine.

He grins at you, mischief alight in his eyes, “Yes, cyare.”

“I wanna kiss you,” You pout at him.

“Do you?”

“Yes!”

His thumb moves across your lips, “Oh, has my pretty little love forgotten her manners?”

Your gaze flickers across his face, and you press a light kiss to his thumb, “Please?” You whisper.

“Much better,” Alpha crashes his lips against yours, and pulls you tight against his body. You can feel the plates of his armor biting into your skin, but you don’t really care, because his lips and teeth and tongue are all demanding your complete attention.

Alpha lifts you so that you’re straddling his lap properly, and you whine low in your throat as you press yourself firmly against him. One of his hands settles on your lower back, pressing you even tighter against him.

He holds you like you’re the most important thing to him in this galaxy, and he kisses you like he needs you to live. And you fall in love with him more every time he kisses you.

“Alpha,” You breathe out his name as he breaks the kiss for a moment, “I love you.” You gaze up at him though hazy, half-lidded eyes. 

He smiles at you, it’s soft and warm, and he kisses you again and again, “Love you too, princess.” He murmurs.

“Come to bed, Alpha,” You plead with him, “Please?”

He glances at his desk, and then he sighs and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, “Alright, Princess. You convinced me.”

“Yay!”

He smiles fondly at you. “Run back to our rooms, and draw me a bath, will you?”

You shoot him a puzzled look.

And his grin becomes devious, “I want you already in the bath when I get there.”

Your lips part, and you nod enthusiastically, “I can do that.”

“So eager,” Alpha purrs in delight, as he pulls you into another demanding kiss, and then he releases you and sets you on your feet, “I’ll see you in a few minutes. Promise.”

You smile at him excitedly, and you lean in to kiss his cheek, and then you’re leaving his office and silently hurrying back down the hall.

[the-starry-seas]

Trans Clone Week 2023 Day 1: Cadets / Gender Affirming Technology / Snuggling

“Something’s bothering you,” Fury says as he sits down next to xei. 

Well, one thing xe can always count on. Xeim brother will find ways to show up when he’s not particularly wanted, and will get right to the middle of things without any concern for whether xe wants to talk about it. 

For some reason, Whisper doesn’t mind as much as xe should. There’s no question that there’s some days where xe wants to punch him just so he shuts up for five kriffing minutes, but he’s not weird about it, at times like this. If xe told him to kark off, then off he would kark. 

It’s maybe the only reason that xe doesn’t actually say that. 

Instead Whisper lays back, flat on the roof of the hangar, watching the clouds above them. One of the rare breaks in Kaminoan rain, and xe wanted to be alone. Or at least that was what xe thought until he showed up. 

Xe raises a hand, and he takes it, his fingers lacing with xeims as he rests his head in his other hand. He won’t stay quiet for long. Xe can wait until he breaks the silence. Should only be a few seconds before– 

“Do you not wanna talk about it?” 

Sometimes his impetuous nature is amusing. Sometimes it helps make conversations happen. 

“I don’t know what to say,” xe admits. 

“Racer just says whatever comes to mind and that’s working out fine for her.” 

“She drives Blue crazy.” 

“We all drive Blue crazy.” 

“That’s true.” 

Whoever was in charge of assigning squads must not have been too good at their job. Blue is constantly begging them to behave for just five minutes and they’re all pretty consistent in ignoring him. 

Whisper doesn’t think xe’s that bad, but there is apparently quite a bit that xe does, that he doesn’t think is particularly appropriate social behaviour. The biting thing has been an argument since they were tubies. Xe wonders if he’s only still trying to rein xei in out of habit. Surely he can’t expect xei to change now. 

People have surprised xei before, though, so xe generally doesn’t say anything to that effect. It seems to be some kind of challenge to them. Say that can’t be what you want and suddenly it’s all they can think about. Ridiculous. 

“Sooo…” Fury prompts. 

Whisper sighs, and looks over at him finally. 

“I’m different. Like Racer. But not.” 

“What, like girl-different?” 

“But not,” xe repeats, and looks back at the clouds. They’re slowly separating from each other, bedraggled wisps scratching across the sky. That’s how xe feels right now. Slowly being torn apart. 

How am I supposed to figure out who I am? 

“That’s cool.” 

But he lets go of xeim hand, which doesn’t seem to be all that ‘cool’. Not until he shuffles down to lay next to xei, their sides pressed together from shoulder to hip. He likes touching people. Doesn’t have to be his batchmates, it’s anyone who can put up with his incessant talking and wiggling around. 

Usually, Whisper finds it annoy. Right now, it’s kind of okay. Xe hadn’t realised, until he came up, that xe didn’t want to be alone. Since the incident with the fight club, xe hasn’t been very good at being around them. Hasn’t been very good at being xeiself. 

Maybe it was just because xe didn’t know what xe was supposed to be. 

“If I’m not like you,” xe says, “and I’m not like Racer. That doesn’t leave a lot of options.” Xe frowns. “Does it?” 

Fury just makes an I-don’t-know sort of noise, which he seems to be rather fond of doing. 

People thinks he’s stupid, but he’s not. Whisper knows that more than anyone. He’s the smartest one of their squad, and probably a bunch of other squads, too. They can be competitive, batchmates. Among themselves, and with other cadets. When it comes to tech, nobody can match him, as far as xe knows. 

The sun breaks through the clouds, and xe grumbles to xeiself and turns over on xeim side to hide xeim face in Fury’s shoulder. 

“You wanna do something about it?” he asks. 

It’s xeim turn to make the I-don’t-know sort of noise. 

Xe grumbles again when he pats vaguely at the side of xeim head. He probably things it’s helpful. It’s mostly just annoying. Not the first time xe’s thought that, but usually he’s better at picking up on when he’s being irritating, and he doesn’t seem to have a clue, right now. 

Whisper sits up abruptly, wrapping xeim arms around xeim knees. 

“Girls get stuff like that. Like Ruusaan. She said they changed her face. Gave her tits. But I don’t want my body to be different. I don’t think.” 

“Do you want your face different?” 

Xe has to think about that. 

“I don’t want to not look like my squad. Maybe newborns are different. But we’ve always been us. We’ve always been the same.” And I’m too different inside, to be that different outside. But I don’t think I’d want it anyway. I don’t care that I look like this. I just– 

“I just don’t want people to think I’m a guy,” xe realises. “Maybe I can put something on my armour. Like jaig eyes, but for – whatever.” 

“Well, I liked you as a brother,” Fury says, “but I like you as a whatever, too.” He knocks a foot against xeims, and grins. Like that’s all it’ll take for things to be okay. 

They manage to be quiet for a good thirty seconds before he speaks again. 

“You know, if you want something to change. We can look into it. After the war. Maybe tattoo something on your forehead.” 

Xe grins, then snorts a laugh, then puts an arm over his waist and snuggles closer. This was the last thing xe expected when he came up here, but that’s all right. He surprises everyone. It’s usually in a good way. 

“Whatever you want,” Fury promises. “I’ll find a way. You’re my favourite, you know.” 

“After Racer?” 

“Nah. Just my favourite. So it is cool. We’ll figure it out and you’ll be whoever you want.” He smiles crookedly. “Whatever, even.” 

“Whatever,” Whisper echoes, and closes xeim eyes. With the sun coming out, it’s warm up here, now. Xe could probably fall asleep. And with Fury here, there’s nothing to worry about. 

Someday. Maybe. Maybe xe’ll figure out what xe wants to look like. But right now, all xe needs to know is that xe can be whatever xe wants. 

“I want to do something different with my hair.” 

“Like what?” 

“Grow it out, maybe. On one side.” That seems… right, in a way xe can’t put xeim finger on. 

“I can cut the short side, if you want it to be buzzed down.” 

For once in xeim life, xe barely even has to think about it. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.” 

Someday will probably be very far away. Today, xe closes xeim eyes and falls asleep beside xeim brother.

[bratzboykai]

Theres like a wild amount of the most highly anticipated movies within the last 5ish years or so up on tubi rn in case some of y'all dont know. Everything from like The Green Knight to Judas & the Black Messiah as well as what I believe is ALL of Hirokazu Koreeda's movies (aka the director of Shoplifters) and 2/3 of Park Chan Wook's vengeance trilogy films (oldboy is not there), Mother and Barking Dogs Never Bite by Bong Joon Ho, as well as the classic Night of the Hunter is on loan from criterion as well. So if you've been meaning to watch some of these or want to rewatch them for free there you go!

And as for LGBT movies since its pride month, some good to reccomended watches are Rafiki, A Single Man, The Wedding Banquet, And Then We Danced, The Birdcage, I Am Divine (documentary on drag icon Divine), Big Eden, Chavela (documentary on Chavela Vargas), Lingua Franca, and I believe two documentaries/docuseries on two separate dance scenes: My House (vouging) and The Debauchery Ball (house/bdsm) among a plethora more but this is just a place to start

[kybercrystals94]

The Hostage

(Part 1)

Read here on Ao3!

Master Post here!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 17 | Prompt 17: Hostage Situation

Rated: T | Words: 899 | Summary: Omega is taken hostage. [Character Focus: Omega, Hunter, Tech, Echo, Wrecker]

“Wait here, Omega,” Hunter says, catching Omega’s shoulder as she starts to follow her brothers through the doorway. Omega opens her mouth to protest, but Hunter shakes his head. “This isn’t up for debate. You’re staying out here.”

Omega pouts, crossing her arms. “This isn’t fair, Hunter!”

“I didn’t say it was, but it is safer this way. You’re on lookout.”

Lookout. Another way of saying left out. But Omega knows that arguing the point won’t change Hunter’s mind. Instead, she marches over to the wall and falls back against it, adding a hefty sigh for good measure.

Hunter gives her an unimpressed look. “You done?” he asks wryly.

Omega looks away and shrugs.

“We’ll be out soon. Don’t leave that spot. Got it?”

Silence.

“Omega.”

“Yes, sir,” Omega bites out.

“Good. Comm if you need us.”

Omega waits until Hunter is safely through the doorway before she rolls her eyes. She’s been with the Batch for months, has been involved in much more dangerous missions, and has even single-handedly gotten her brothers out of scrapes that they got themselves into. And yet, Hunter doesn’t trust that she can handle herself during a simple negotiation. It’s stupid. She’s not a tubie. In fact, she remembers when her brothers were in their tubes, when they were literally helpless.

She is so busy fuming over the absurdity of it all that she doesn’t notice the cloaked man until he is standing only a few meters away.

“You all by yourself, kid?” he asks her, voice low.

Omega scrambles to stand up straight. “No,” she replies, scowling up at the stranger, channeling all the heat over her situation into her tone. “My brothers are here.”

“They inside?”

“What’s it to you?” Omega shoots back.

The man smiles a wretched, rotting smile. He takes a step forward. Omega takes a step back, but she’s already against the wall. She reaches up to grab her bow, but bare, dirty fingers latch around her wrist, yanking her forward with shocking ferocity. She opens her mouth to scream, but another hand claps over the whole bottom half of her face, blocking her mouth and nose. Panicked, Omega realizes she can’t even breathe. She thrashes in her captor’s arms, kicking her legs wildly.

“Hold still,” the stranger growls, an unspoken threat in his inflection; however, Omega knows better than to listen. She struggles with all her strength, the bow on her back giving her some distance from the stranger’s chest, some room to twist and writhe in his grasp.

The hand on her wrist releases, and she uses both her hands to pull at the hand blocking her airways. Black splotches dance across her vision, her lungs scream for air. She tries to dig her teeth into the stranger’s palm; however, his hand is so big, it cups under her chin, holding her jaw shut.

Lack of oxygen weakens her movements. Omega’s eyes dart along the empty alley, searching for help, someone who might see something, might step in. But it is as barren as when they arrived, except for the stranger that suddenly appeared.

Her only hope is that her brothers come out…

The world around her is bled of color, turning a dull gray as her vision fades. Her last thought is that maybe Hunter was right.

Omega can’t handle herself after all.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

The negotiation goes almost as poorly as the Batch had anticipated: hands hovering restlessly over holstered blasters, veiled and outright threats, unfair offers of payment followed by more threats. Hunter is glad he made Omega wait outside.

“That could have gone better,” Echo mutters irritably as they make their way up the narrow steps to the door.

“Could have gone much worse,” Tech quips, not even glancing up from the mission parameters that have been sent to his data pad.

“Least we’re getting paid,” Wrecker crows from the back of the group, “I get to tell ‘Mega what happened.”

“Nothing happened, thank the force,” Hunter says, pausing at the top of the steps to let the door slide open. He blinks rapidly against the stark daylight before turning to the spot he left Omega in her agitated mood.

She’s gone.

“Omega?” he calls out, glancing around the alley, sure that her curiosity had enticed her to wander.

Wrecker turns in a circle. “Where’d she go? Omega!”

Tech taps several commands on his data pad. “Her comm’s beacon shows that she’s just around the corner.”

“Of course she is,” Hunter grumbles.

Tech leads the group down the alleyway and into the busier main street, weaving them through the vendor stalls. Hunter’s eyes search for the familiar face of his sister, an uneasy feeling taking root. She isn’t here.

Tech stops at a vendor selling a myriad of electronics. “Her comm says she should be here,” he says, his matter of fact tone stilted by an edge of concern.

“Excuse me,” Echo says to the Rodian behind the booth, “have you seen a girl around here? About this tall? Blond?”

The Rodian eyes the group warily. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Why would there be trouble?” Hunter asks, trying to keep his tone level. “We’re just looking for our sister.”

“He said to give you this,” the Rodian says, “That he’d be in touch. I had nothing to do with it, I swear.” He brings an energy bow and communicator from under the counter.

MASTER POST || NEXT PART

✨Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist! ✨

Taglist: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @arctrooper69 @proteatook @mooncommlink @nagyanna424 @merkitty49 @groguandthebadbatch

[jabean-fanfiction]

A little something that I felt like sharing…

(A Little Rey AU/A Light in the Dark AU)

CMO Needles already knew it was going to be a long day long before the little tubie—well, more of a cadet really—long before the tiny cadet backed out of the storage closet that was tucked away in a far corner of his medbay aboard the Negotiator.

The little cadet—a human girl, by the looks of her—certainly had some nerve in her considering she was currently dragging one of the Two-Twelve’s bulky medkits across the floor. The thing was almost the size of her. But judging by the ugly bump on the right side of her head that all but guaranteed a seriously bad concussion, Needles wouldn’t be holding it against her.

This cadet needed medical attention. And stat.

“Just where do you think you’re going with my medkit?” Needles barked out, coming to a stop a few feet behind the cadet.

The cadet’s entire body seemed to flinch—he almost felt bad about scaring her—before she spun around to face him with her tiny hands held up in loose fists underneath her chin.

This girl was a fighter. A punch first and ask questions later kind of cadet, Needles thought, fondly. His kind of ad’ika.

Wait…what?

He was far too young to be adopting any cadet. He was ten for kriff’s sake.

“‘S’not yours,” the tiny cadet stubbornly argued—squeaked more like. She brought her fists up a bit higher, and glared up at him. “I found it, so it’s mine!”

“So you’re a thief, are ya?” What in the Sith Hells was wrong with him? Why was he even challenging this little pipsqueak? He needed to look at her injuries as soon as possible.

The cadet scoffed at his accusation, and planted her hands firmly on her hips. “No!” she cried out. “I’m a scavenger, not a thief!”

Her eyes darted around the mostly empty medbay, looking up at the glowpanel in the ceiling, then the beeping heart monitors attached to the two unconscious troopers, Peel and Trapper. Cale and Eyeball were currently floating in the bacta tanks in the adjoining medical room. Needles’ had assigned Stitch to take inventory of the remaining supplies following their last battle, so he figured the medic was still in the adjoining storage room, listening in and likely waiting for a call for assistance before making his presence known.

The girl’s eyes grew wider and wider at everything that was in front of her, before she returned her attention to him, very obviously tagging him as a potential threat to her safety.

Smart kid. Cautious kid.

“The Star Destroyer that I was scavenging from was…” the girl frowned, “it wasn’t running…it didn’t have a working power source like this one obviously does.”

Needles frowned at the girl’s words. “It was broken down?” he asked, crossing his arms across his chest to prevent himself from reaching out to her as she seemed to rock to the side ever-so-slightly. He had a feeling the girl would bite him before she let him touch her.

The little cadet shrugged. “Crashed.” She sniffed, her eyes were watering slightly like she was fighting off tears. “I’m not on Jakku no more, am I?”

”No kid. We’re on the other side of the galaxy, nowhere near Jakku.”

The little girl’s lip wobbled threateningly as she peered up at Needles. She took a deep breath in, working hard to calm herself down. “I have to get back, sir. My papa…he promised that he’d come back for me. I don’t want him to worry if I’m not there.”

Needles smiled at the little girl. “I think that he would be a lot more worried about that head wound you’ve got, little one. How ‘bout I take a look at it, and my medic, Stitch, can talk to the General to see if we can find a way to get in touch with your buir.”

“On it, sir,” Stitch muttered as he stepped out of the storage room.

The cadet frowned as she watched Stitch hurry out of the medbay. Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as her golden-brown eyes darted back to Needles. Familiar eyes, in an eerily familiar colour. Needles tucked that information away for the time being. “Boo-eer?”

“It means ‘parent’ in Mando’a,” Needles said with a slight smile. “Your papa, in other words.”

At the girl’s nod of her head in understanding, Needles gestured to one of the empty beds nearby. “Now, will you let me take a closer look at that bump on your noggin? How’d you get it by the way?” he asked. “It looks like it must’ve hurt.”

The girl shrugged, but hurried towards the indicated bed and carefully climbed up onto the mattress. Once she settled down on the bed, and Needles had his penlight in his hands, she responded, “It’s not so bad no more, promise. ‘Nuther scavenger bashed me over the head with a wrench a few days ago.”

Needles hummed thoughtfully as he brought the penlight up to shine in each of the girl’s eyes. “That wasn’t very nice of them,” he muttered. “Do you know their name?” No, he wasn’t planning to hunt the shabuir down across the galaxy for harming a kid. Honest.

“Namenthe,” the girl told him with a scowl. “He’s a sleemo.”

Needles had to agree with her character assessment. He hummed again as he gently ran his fingers around the goose egg. “Namenthe, huh?”

The girl winced as he pressed the pads of his fingers gently around the wound. A cracked skull was most likely. She likely needed to spend some time in a bacta tank to ensure everything was alright, Needles realized with dread pooling in his stomach.

Their two tanks were currently being used.

He smiled tightly at the little cadet. “Do you have a name, kid?”

Maybe General Kenobi would have a better idea on what to do for the time being. Maybe he could use some of that Jedi magic on the kid to ensure she’d be alright until one of the tanks was free.

“Rey,” the girl quietly murmured. “My papa named me Rey.”

[cipheramnesia]

I absolutely adore found footage and mockumentary style horror movies. Have any suggestions?

Mockumentary recommendation, you HAVE to see Behind the Mask: the Rise of Leslie Vernon. However, if you like horror mockumentaries you probably saw it, so how about Ghost Crew (2022). A very very microbudget mockumentary style movie which I found both very effective in its atmospheric horror, as well as sweet and affecting. Adjust your expectations according to the dime store budget and I think you'll enjoy it.

I also have a misplaced fondness for Grave Encounters 1 & 2 - more for part two and its high level commitment to the bit. However, for a richer experience, it helps to watch part one, which by itself is a rather undistinguished, middle of the road found footage flick. I also very much like The Taking of Deborah Logan, though your experience on how it handles Alzhiemers might vary. If you want a real deep cut, check out the Fench classic, Man Bites Dog.

Also notable, the criminally underwatched Savageland. One of the mockumentary style movies that plays things the straightest ever, a Nightline style aftermath documentary of a horror movie we never see. It's a movie that is probably more disturbing now than when it was originally released with its snapshot of culture in the USA.

There's so many, you have to go down a bit of a Tubi recommendations rabbit hole to explore, but you can start off from stuff like Butterfly Kisses or Creep or Death of a Vlogger or any of the above the scrounge up a few.

That said I'm saving a personal favorite for a capstone - He's Watching. This is another fun on a shoestring movie, but personally it's the most fascinating found footage movie I've seen in recent memory. It feels very tied to the current lived reality under the covid endemic, and also has this fascinating drift between the eye of the camera and the eye of the viewer - it uses the found footage element to blur the experience of the movie protagonists between real and imagined. It also does a fantastic job handling the deep terror which can be found in the blackness outside an open door, and other primal childhood fear. To my eyes, He's Watching accomplishes more successfully the kind of horror and uncertainty that many other more well known and similar films want.

[wyntereyez]

Wynter's Werewolf Watch-A-Thon: Late Phases

Late Phases

Tubi's description: Following the vicious attacks of a beast, a jaded veteran investigates what an isolated retirement community knows about the killings.

There will be spoilers in my description. Also, I'm going to warn you ahead of time: the dog very much does die. Many do, in fact. You may not want to read further based on this.

Anyway...

Ambrose is a blind Vietnam veteran who is moving into an isolated retirement community next to the woods. His son, Will, drops him off, and we see they have a difficult relationship. Ambrose is bitter, and sometimes even hostile, which immediately puts off the neighborhood welcoming committee. (Who were, admittedly, using that false friendliness that would put anyone's hackles up.) Upon entering the house, Ambrose finds barely-concealed scratches in the wall, and something that looks like a large claw or tooth.

That night, he hears something happening in his neighbor's place as she's violently attacked by the werewolf. It then comes into his home, but Shadow, his guide dog, defends him and drives it off. Shadow is fatally wounded, and Ambrose puts him out of his misery.

The police write it off as an animal attack, something that happens 'all the time' since they're so close to the woods. There'd also been a second attack down the road.

When his daughter-in-law mentions the moon had been full, Ambrose deduces the animal was a werewolf, and begins to investigate. His only clue is that the werewolf had a wheeze to its breathing.

Over the next month, Ambrose further antagonizes neighbors as he investigates, making them uncomfortable because he uses a shovel for a cane because he refuses to replace his dog. He begins attending church, where he catches the attention of the priest. The priest has a wheeze from smoking, making him a possible suspect, so Ambrose allows him to get close while he tries to solve the mystery. The rest of the time, he spends preparing for the next confrontation. And burying his dog. Which takes the hole month, for some reason.

While purchasing silver ammo, he finally figures out who the werewolf is when he learns James, one of the church deacons, had purchased silver ammunition the year before.

When James sees the ammunition bag in Ambrose's hand, he panics and bites several neighbors for back-up.

Before shifting, the priest visits James. He knows that James has been killing the neighborhood dogs, but he thinks James only believes himself to be a monster - until James tells him he'd gone into the woods to kill the werewolf, and had become one himself in the process. He shifts in front of the priest, and he's killed.

Ambrose takes down the new werewolves, then James himself. He then staggers off and dies, having overdosed on medication beforehand to ensure he didn't live to become a werewolf.

All in all, it's a rather slow movie. After the initial attack, there's not much that happens beyond arguments with his son, his neighbors being distrustful and calling the cops on him, and burying his dog. Which takes an entire month. If I were neighbors with a guy who kept a rotting corpse for a month, I'd probably call the cops, too. It's not something that did any favors for his character. And his son and daughter-in-law comment that's it's not a healthy thing to do, but don't do anything about it. Okay.

And Ambrose was a hard character to like. He was very much the bitter veteran stereotype, which I get, I just don't relate to.

The werewolf design was interesting.

The transformation was cool, with James tearing his skin away to reveal the wolf beneath. They were full-body suits, and the actors moved pretty well in them. Though something about them made me think 'fantasy goblin' rather than werewolf. That's probably just me, though.

Final verdict: It's not the worst werewolf movie I've seen, but it was very slow. And it was difficult to believe that everyone would be so blase about so many 'animal attacks'; you'd think they'd want to move or get someone to take care of it, surely? I mean, two people died in that first attack. Dogs keep going missing (getting killed by James). There've obviously been a lot of other attacks, including one that left scratch marks in Ambrose's new house. And I'm sorry, I just don't get why they dragged out the dog burial, except as a way to antagonize the neighbors? I dunno. I probably wouldn't watch it again.

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Queen of the Damned (Rymer, 2002)

I put this on because it was about to leave Tubi and I was craving some garbage early 2000s vibes out of some misplaced sense of nostalgia. As far as nu metal cinema goes, this has a lot of nu metal music (including everyone's favourite track "Down With the Sickness", you know, the one that starts "Wakakaka! Ugh Ugh!") but little nu metal energy. Some of the problem can be attributed to the weird pacing. Aaliyah's tragic death during production is probably partially to blame, as there isn’t much Queen of the Damned in Queen of the Damned (although I understand principal photography had been completed). And maybe I was zoning out more than usual, but all the stuff about Lena Olin and her law abiding vampires is introduced way too late in the movie, and the climax feels thrown in with very little buildup.

I will say that the movie has its charms. I got a good chuckle out of the bit where Stuart Townsend sits beside two groupies and then crawls up to the ceiling and swoops down to bite them... when he could have just stayed seated and bit them as they were already right beside him. I guess scaring your victims makes their blood taste better. Jeez, I hope nobody quotes that out of context. Also, there’s a goofy motion blur effect during the action scenes, leading me to believe that vampires all gyrate spasmodically when in combat. But as Ebert points out in his review, “the filmmakers labor under the impression that Anne Rice's works must be treated respectfully”, so the movie mostly feels too staid to be all that fun.

Maybe the movie’s obvious failings are beside the point. On a certain level, this is meant to be appreciated as eye candy, for the audience to get an eyeful of all the hot gothy vampires (and hot non-vampiric goths) standing around giving each other smouldering looks and slithering line readings. And given all the choker necklaces, fishnet tops and tight pants, it probably delivers on that level. But I do think it has the fatal problem of having no chemistry between the two leads. Ebert once again nails the problem, this time more amusingly.

“The Lestat-Akasha romance suffers by being conducted in declarative mode, with Akasha addressing her lover with the intimacy Queen Victoria would have lavished on her footman. Lestat digs her, though, because when he drinks her blood, it makes him wild. Nothing good can come of this.”

Aaliyah would have been pretty inexperienced as an actress, and she does try to sink her teeth into the role, but the bigger problem is Stuart Townsend, best known for doing everybody a huge favour by getting fired from The Lord of the Rings. Listen, as a straight man I’m not going to be susceptible to his obvious charms, but imagine if he hadn’t been fired from that other gig and we got Viggo Mortensen in this role instead. Picture the menace and sexual potency Mortensen would have imbued into his smoulder. Townsend’s smoulder has no teeth. We deserve a better class of smoulder.

[ravensilversea]

Victory Comes Late

Summary: Victory came too late for Ponds and for so many other brothers. Three years of war plus some months of hashing out a peace treaty written in the blood, sweat, and tears of his brothers but makes no mention of them at all. It’s a Senate proclaimed accomplishment, like they hadn’t refused to even consider peace for three years.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Palpatine Dies AU, Post-War, Light Angst, Grief/Mourning, Reunions, Bittersweet Ending

The largest exhibition hall in the Jedi Temple is almost too small for the sheer number of clone troopers in it now. Really, it is actually too small, but none of them are too concerned with the concept of personal space when this is the first time they’ve all been together for three years.

And yet, Fox pulls his helmet off and tucks it beneath his arm. His guard brushes past him, calling out into the space that’s already echoing with brothers trying to find each other. And yet, they aren’t all here.

Rancor Battalion is still on Kamino and participating in negotiations alongside General Ti to hopefully place the cadets and tubies into the custody of their brothers. The thought alone is almost inconceivable: entire batches of clones who never have to serve on a battlefield, who can stay together and stay alive for years longer than their elder brothers could.

“You joining the party, Fox?” Stone asks, coming to stand beside him.

“You really think Salvo would let us miss it?” Fox walks into the exhibition hall instead of just hovering in the doorway. “Besides, someone has to tell them all how the chancellor really died.”

Ao3

Stone coughs into his hand. “Would that be the actual story or another one of your tales this time?”

Fox refuses to learn about any of the details of Chancellor Palpatine’s, unfortunate, accident. It would ruin the fun of coming up with stupider and stupider ways the late chancellor died and sharing them around the caf brewer. Call it his own personal revenge against the man who insisted on calling each and every one of his brothers by CC or CT number and number alone, the way the Guard all but tiptoed around him, how many of his brother assigned to the chancellor’s guard when traveling off planet simply disappeared without a trace, and every single shiny who the chancellor sent down into the lower levels who came back in a body bag, if at all.

“I have a list of stupid ways for asshole politicians to die, and this might be my only chance to share any of them,” Fox says primly. “Allow me my fun.”

Stone shakes his head. “If you say so.”

They weave through a particularly thick crowd of brothers, and someone flags them down. “Hey commanders, I think your squads are meeting over on the stands!”

“That’ll be Cody’s idea,” Fox mutters as Stone thanks the brother for the directions. “Always did need to be on top of things.”

“Not sure the stands top Tipoca City’s comm tower.”

Fox looks up at the ceiling that rises so high above their heads it can barely be seen and then gives Stone a look.

“Okay, so maybe they could.”

The commander squads are gathered in a clump in the middle of the stands, and sure enough, Cody’s yellow-orange paint is higher than anybody else, shining like a beacon. Fox and Stone pass Alpha Squad on their way up the stands where Wolffe and Thire look about two seconds from murdering a squadmate or two.

“I’m sorry,” Gregor says just as they pass by, “but do you think you could repeat that? Or maybe replay it? I’m not sure I heard you correct-ly!” His voice rises sharply as he falls back under the weight of two brothers, and Fox hops up a handful of rows. Stone jumps back with a curse.

Poet looks up from their padd with a distinct ‘can you believe I’m stuck with them?’ expression of their face. Fox bites his lip and shakes his head, mentally wishing them good luck. 

Force, Alpha’s only missing Blitz whose stuck on Kamino. They all made it, the lucky bastards.

“Fox! Stone!” Salvo slams into Fox with a broad grin and pulls Stone up the remaining steps to wrap his arm around him too. For a moment, the three of them just breathe. “It’s good to see you again,” Salvo whispers.

“Yeah,” Fox pulls away and meets Gree’s eyes over Salvo’s head. “Wait until you hear what happened to the chancellor.”

“The old one, right? Cause the one we have now is an upgrade.” Gree throws a thumb back over his shoulder. “C’mon, we grabbed a spot by Chimaera.”

Fox starts laying out the first ‘So this is what I heard from somebody who heard it from somebody’ as they walk lengthwise along the stands until Gree and Salvo pull them down onto the benches. Just above them sits Chimaera Squad with it’s three near-silent members. As he tells his story, Fox watches Neyo try to get Keller and Faie to say more than a few words strung together, and it suddenly hits him that both Lock and Colt were dead.

The story ends, and his brothers make noises of disbelief. “Oh really?” Fox says. “Well, how about this one that I heard from a janitor who heard it from his sister’s husband’s brother’s friend.” Stone buries his head in his hands with a groan.

Ponds would have told Fox to stop by the second story, but he’s not around to hear them. The lack of protest from that quarter sits heavy in Fox’s chest. He barrels through the story anyway, almost even more spitefully. 

Victory came too late for Ponds and for so many other brothers. Three years of war plus some months of hashing out a peace treaty written in the blood, sweat, and tears of his brothers but makes no mention of them at all. It’s a Senate proclaimed accomplishment, like they hadn’t refused to even consider peace for three years.

Almost four years of war because of one man who strung them all along like dew drops on a tent-line.

Fox’s eyes land on a small empty space in a sea of brothers, and his next words die in his throat. There’s a brother standing in the middle of the empty space. He’s thin with shaved hair and implant scars. What’s left of one arm is in a sling across his body, and Fox knows who he is even without the blue of the 501st edging his almost shiny-white, probably borrowed armor.

Come get your Dominoes, Rex had messaged three years ago.

Unless they’re commanders, I don’t claim them, and even that’s debatable, he had messaged back.

Within days, Rex had informed him that due to the sudden death of their commanding officers and the subsequent lack of collection by Fox (Fox had rolled his eyes at this), he was personally taking them under his wing. Rex then spent every other message to Fox bragging about ‘his Dominoes’ like there wasn’t hundreds of Domino training squads spread throughout the army.

For a moment, Fox selfishly wishes that Echo truly had died on the infamous Citadel mission. Seeing him standing alone in a sea of reuniting brothers when Fox is the one who killed his last squadmate…

Victory really did come too late for Rex's Domino squad. 

The reunions and conversations continue on around Fox, blurring into the background. A sea of noise and color turning into a drone as a time seems to slow, but Echo never blurs. He continues to stand alone, seemingly in the middle of a swirling galaxy of brothers without a single person to welcome him home.

Fox finds his feet moving without any input from him. He's halfway down the stairs before Salvo asks him where he's going. “To get another Domino,” he says, almost under his breath, but his squad hears him just the same. 

The floor of the exhibition hall seems to echo with his footsteps. Which is impossible. First of all, the sheer number of clones in the room alone would drown out any noise Fox could possibly make even if they weren't talking at loud volumes. Second of all, there was no way in hell that the Jedi didn't sound proof this room within an inch of its life given the number of lightsaber duels- duels between children at that!- this room must have been used for.

Maybe his footsteps are echoing through him, Fox muses. He takes another step and feels it in his chest.

Time and sound suddenly crash into Fox. Conversations burst into a roar, suddenly Fox can hear so many squadname jokes all at once. It no longer feels like he's stepping through taffy, and all he can do is stand there. Like an idiot. Just in front of Echo.

Force, all he has to do is lift his arm and he could touch this orphaned shell of a brother.

Well, maybe not a shell, he reconsiders as Echo straightens, jutting his chin out a bit and brown eyes flashing with a challenge. There's still quite a bit of fight left in his one, which is more than Fox can say for the Chimaera commanders back on the stairs. 

“Echo,” Fox says, figuring that's as good a start as any.

“What do you want, commander?”

Fox falters. Opening and closing his mouth, he glances back at his squad who have ceased any and all conversations to stare at him trying and failing to talk to a CT.

“If you're here to apologize, don't. There's nothing you can say,” Echo continues, and Fox winces. If it was his squadmate shot and killed by another's hand, he doesn't think he would have said those words so mournfully acceptingly. No. Every trooper in this hall would likely have to hold him back from trying to beat the shit out of the one who killed his squadmate.

He flexes his hands, tries not to imagine how Aurra Singh's neck would feel wrapped in them as he squeezes the life out of her for what she did to Ponds. 

“It's not something that can be forgiven, no matter how much I regret it,” Fox says. “But that isn't why I'm here, trooper... Echo.”

“Then why, sir?”

For a moment, Fox hesitates, unsure of whether his invitation, his touch would be welcome, but he decides to do it anyway. He reaches out and gently grabs Echo's remaining wrist and lightly tugs it in the direction of the stadium. “Come on. No Domino gets left behind.”

He waits for Echo to take the first step, watching his brother's eyes blink, widen, and then sharpen. Echo looks past Fox towards the Domino commanders, and whatever he sees there, convinces him.

Fox settles Echo down in the empty spot where Ponds should be, and the way Echo looks around with brighter eyes and a harsh swallow tells him everything about how Rex's little dominoes must have gathered too.

Setting that aside, Fox turns back to his brothers. “Now, where were we? Oh yes, so the Chancellor had ordered breakfast and for some reason, this involved fish. And you know how fish have these tiny little bones they don't always manage to get out when preparing them?”

Gree sighs loudly as he realizes where Fox is going with this latest story about Palpatine's death, and Salvo begins slapping Fox's knee like that's going to stop him. Behind him, Echo muffles a snort, and Fox grins.

Victory came late, but not too late. There are still brothers here who were saved after all.