#If they make a B1 battle droid next

[wraithtemplar]

Happy May 4th to all you Star Wars fans out there.

My new droid buddy says hi, too!

[astheforcewillsit]

Sound of the Saw (original ao3 link) Summary:

Aside from a brief meeting between the two where Quinlan ended things, Fox hasn't heard from Quinlan Vos since he supposedly deserted. Fox had made peace with it as best as he could, and prepared to live a life without Quinlan. That is, until he finds his former Jedi in his bedroom asking for intel about Coruscant and the Chancellor months later. And oh. His eyes are yellow. (heavy on the angst, eventual happy ending, brief vostress mention)

Commander Fox walks towards his room that evening with all the strength of B1 Battle Droid who’s a good thirty minutes or so away from shutting down. 

Which is to say none. It starts with his legs–stiff and achy. Like the bolts are rusted. Only it’s his bones and muscles, and unlike a droid he can’t get his replaced. He feels as if agony’s child has thrown itself on his back, tiny arms wrapped around his neck, legs locked around his waist. 

Pulling, constricting, until it burns. The stress of the day blanketing his body like a layer of soft snow. Ever persistent. Ever there. 

His armor doesn’t make it any easier. And though he will take it all off and toss it to some corner of his room (he’s not like his brothers, it’s not some prized, sacred relic he honors. It’s a chain. A gold, studded collar), his body keeps its memory even while free of it. 

With great effort he forces his tired, exhausted body through the threshold. Bucket loosely pinned to his side by trembling fingers. A migraine floundering behind his eyes.

Needless to say Commander Fox is a walking ball of pain, both physically and mentally. His brain has gone on autopilot, commanding his body to make a beeline for his bed. 

And yet..

And yet he can tell something is off immediately. Things are too calm. 

At this time of night, despite his perpetual weariness, the initial embrace of sleep is difficult to come by. Coruscant’s nightlife creeps into the Commander’s Quarters, sound from the living planet seeps into his room. A speeder going above the legal limit, lights shining through his blinds. 

On a good night, he gets maybe two or three hours of sleep. But it’s sleep nonetheless.  

The point is, he dragged his tired body into his quarters today fully expecting to battle Coruscant for somewhat of a decent night's sleep-for him -only to find something completely wrong. 

This evening, his room is dark and silent. The kind of dark and silent that seems to wedge its way into one of those lower level bars after a shootout that kills just about all of the bar goers. Silent and dark in a way that is unnatural. Like death is waiting patiently in the shadows, head cocked and brows knitted as if he's debating on whether or not you'll be his next victim. 

His room is splashed with vantablack. As if there’s been a black hole materialized into the corner where his bed sits against the wall. 

And yet–he can see those piercing, yellow eyes. He thinks he’s seen those eyes before, in his dreams. In between the strange, gaps in his memory. In between the walk from the mess hall and the walk out of the Chancellor's office. He doesn't like to think of that. Of those times when the Chancellor feels off. The Chancellor is a good man. 

“Hey Foxy, I think I made a mistake. And I really need your help.”

No shit, he wants to say. The void speaks using Quin's voice, the mock light heartedness and aloofness 

He thinks of what General Windu came to tell him months ago. After Quinlan had gone off radar and left Fox completely in the dark (and that’s not entirely true. Quinlan gave the most professional ‘i can’t do this anymore’ one day and Fox hadn’t heard from him since. That day had been…difficult.). 

After he’d interrogate him about the intricacies of their former relationship. 

“Do not engage with him under any circumstances, Commander. Comm the temple immediately and get you and your men to safety.” 

General Windu did not elaborate when Fox asked what was going on. He knew enough about his defection, but to his knowledge Quinlan had returned to the Order. Still, he nodded before letting General Windu know that there was absolutely no reason Quinlan would stop by the Guard’s HQ again. 

He thinks of what the Chancellor had said to him after he sensed his tense shoulders, “The Jedi will not tell you the entire thing, Commander Fox, but I am afraid that they fear that Jedi Quinlan Vos has deceived them again. The one you were so fond of. I am sorry to be the one to break it to you, but I believed you deserved to know.” 

Then, it had hurt like he’d swallowed a live grenade. And when Cody had confirmed it for him after he asked for clarification (because what exactly was Quinlan doing?), adding that Quinlan had gone off with Ventress at some point or another,  the grenade exploded. 

“He’d fuck a clone killer before he touches you again,” Wolffe had gritted out, venomously, “If you see him again, put a bold betewen his eyes. If you don’t, we will.” 

He had punched Wolffe for that one.  It wasn’t his proudest moment, and it took a Jedi to split them up because both the Wolfpack and the Guard erupted into a full out brawl.  But at the time, those words had been a package thinly laced with blame, and he was already feeling like shit. 

Like he had anything to do with Quinlan Vos of all Jedi defecting. Again? 

Even the Jedi’s shoulders slouched when Wolffe opened his mouth, and according to the grapevine, that was supposed to be the optimistic one. 

“Quinlan?” His voice raises an octave, trembling as he approaches the figure on his bed. His quarters are as dark as a starless night. Those eyes follow his every movement, a tenseness like a rancor about to strike. 

It lacks the warmth that Quinlan’s gaze usually has to it. It’s unnatural on him. The Jedi– his– Jedi (though not his anymore. Asajj Ventress’s now) does not stare at Fox like he is a piece of meat. 

“I need something from you, Fox. some information about the Chancellor. Give it to me and I’ll leave you alone.” 

There’s a finality in that which Fox doesn’t take too well to. 

This is over. Whatever was between them is done. He’s asking him to betray the Republic. He’s asking him to betray his brothers. That’s a line no clone crosses without a good fucking reason. And Quinlan knows this. He knows the fucked up, jumble of emotions this is for Fox. 

Because Fox doesn’t know if his brothers would feel the same about him. He doesn’t know who would betray him in a heartbeat if they could. Especially after Fives (though Rex has come around. Tries to, at least).  And still, he’d give the world for them if he could. It’s an ugly, uncomfortable, shitty feeling. A feeling that Quinlan Vos with brown eyes and sunkissed skin had shared with him. 

It was over. It was over for Quinlan before he’d broken into Fox’s room, but now, it was over for Fox (spoiler alert from the author, it was not). 

But he’d give him a last kindness. For all he’d done for the Guard. For all this Jedi had done for him. He helped Fox when he was at his lowest. 

And if Quinlan Vos has fallen, then surely it’s lower than he’s ever been in his life. 

He steels himself, his voice steady, “I’m going to call someone. To help you. Stay here, do not move.”

The room becomes frigid. Freezing. In a way that hurts. Small knives prick into his skin, his eyes water. His throat tightens. Quinlan’s eyes narrow. 

Fox’s fingers are already on the communicator Windu gave him, index hovering above the button. In a split second he will alert the Jedi. 

In a split second, Quinlan Vos upon him, his saber slashing through the device on Fox’s wrist. 

Shit. Kriff.  This is the closests he’s been a saber before. And the saber is fucking red. And a dread he’s never felt fills his room.

The saber has sliced through his armor. His skin burns against the molten plastoid. Did Quinlan just fucking hurt him? Betrayal unlike any other erupts through him, burning hotter than the pain on his wrist. 

Quinlan smirks. His face is clear as the red illuminates the two. Fox could scream. He looks fucking deranged. 

“Well Commander , I didn’t know you had it in you. I can feel your anger. Your pain.” He chuckles, a distorted, disorienting sound, “you’d make a good Sith.” 

With a rush of adrenaline, CC-1010 takes over in that instant. And the small part that is Commander Fox dissociates as he hides behind his training. 

His hands are on his twin blasters. He’s prepared to die with them there. He shoots, and Quinlan snarls. 

Fox closes his eyes as CC-1010 fights. He plugs his ears closed as bolts deflect around his room. 

This is not Quinlan in the room before him. This is a twisted, convoluted disciple of Asajj Ventress and Count Dooku. The one that put the Jedi Order behind him. The one that was coming to Coruscant for secrets about the Republic.

Fox thanks his training. When he gets the courage, he watches his body as if  from a distance. Watches as it dodges and shoots as a sith tears through his bedroom. Alpha-17 would be proud. Hell, even Fett would be proud. For the first time in his life, he thanks the genes of Jango Fett, because he’d be dead if it weren’t for him. 

Still, he’s not invincible. 

He tries to look away when the saber cuts through the plastoid, the pain strong enough to jerk him back into his own body. One of his DC-17s bounces on the ground, escaped from his grip during this dangerous dance (why, he doesn’t know? He’s never dropped a blaster in the middle of a battle). 

He puts his effort into his remaining blaster. 

CC-1010 retreats to regroup, reassess. Commander Fox is left alone to defend himself against Quinlan Vos.

He will die here, but he will die fighting to live. A foolish part of him fights because he can’t imagine what the guilt will do to Quinlan when he comes to his senses. Be it today or fifty years from now, when the clones and their armor and their pain is a memory on the wind. Maybe then, he’ll join Fox wherever the Force takes him after all of this. 

For his part–Quinlan is angry. Furious ( CC-1010 may have said some choice words about his new girlfriend.��). And Fox can feel it in the way he attacks him. It’s cruel, taunting. Picking at pieces of Fox until his body is a canvas of small burns and slow forming bruises. It’s calculated and cruel, like a predator tiring its prey before it catches it. 

It has Asajj Ventress written all over it. And for a small, harrowing moment, Fox finds a sickening moment of clarity in what Vos is doing.

He’d zoned out during most of what Cody was saying when he’d filled him in on what went down with Quinlan, but now his brain remembers bits and pieces of the conversation. The bits that he filed away as he crumbled in front of his brother (and thank the Maker his bucket was on). Something about the Dark Side–something about killing loved ones to grow strong.

Ahh, so that’s what this had become? 

By now, he’s sloppy in his dodging. Uncoordinated in his shooting. The exhaustion from the day has come back. Agony’s child has returned to suffocate him, bringing that blanket of snow with it. Quinlan has cut through his remaining blaster. Has pierced his knee through his armor. 

And when his knees hits the ground, that’ll be it. Won’t it? That’s how Thorn went out, isn’t it? Something like that. There’s a comfort in knowing his brother went before him. Will be there to guide him through it. Has practiced this and performed this final act. 

He will die in this armor. And suddenly it is not a gold studded collar anymore. It’s different. It has protected him how it could, and now it will die with him.   He wishes he could live to tell the entire GAR ‘i told you so, we do die fighting’ As if Thorn wasn’t enough. 

And so his knee hits the ground. And Quinlan Vos raises a saber above his neck. And hesitates, just slightly. Eyes flashing from yellow to brown, to yellow again. 

At some point his door zips open. His beheading interrupted. Purple light penetrates the cloud of smoke that the union between a saber and a blaster cause. And there are hands on him,. No–claws. Thick, leathery claws. Pulling him away from the action. Purple and red clash in the background.  

Mace Windu is ferocious in the way he fights. In the way he defends a clone from a Sith. Ponds used to speak highly of him. He sees why now. 

Plo Koon–the optimistic one–the one who sighed when Wollfe opened his mouth (and who doesn’t at this point) guides him out of his room, cups his head as he tries to look back. At a point he is thrust back into the fluorescent lights of the guard HQ as the Jedi presumably takes him to the medbay. 

He can’t help how his knees buckle beneath him for a second time. Plo Koon goes down with him, scooping him up before he hits the ground.  

When they arrive to the empty med bay, Plo Koon gently settles him into the bed.. Instinctively, he reaches for the comm on his desk. He needs to let Thire know what happened. 

But his comm isn't there because he’s in the medbay.  Still, his body tries to reset itself by going on autopilot. He needs to warn Thire, let him know what’s happened. He reaches for his comm that isn’t there and his stomach drops. His hand is gone. 

Quinlan cut off his hand. 

He makes a noise between a sob and a squeal. Plo Koon is beside him in an instant, and Fox is so eager for touch that he buries himself into the Kel Dor’s robes. He wonders how many times another clone has sought comfort here, in between these thick, dark robes and the scent of something alien. But pleasant. 

He wonders if he sits long enough, here in the silence, if he can smell Wolffe. 

He tries to calm himself. Tries to remind himself of the positives. He is alive. Quinlan did not harm his brothers. Windu did not look like he was losing. And if he did lose (which was very unlikely), apparently the Jedi next to him can use lightning. Palpatine will not have him decommissioned. The Chancellor says he’lll protect him. Protects his men too, he tries as hard as he can even when they still go missing. 

It’s enough to stop him from going into a full blown panic attack. That, and the way the Jedi soothes him. It’s a nice reminder that the Force isn’t just the frost that Quinlan had brought into his room. It’s not his mangled knee or his missing hand. It’s whatever is coming off of Plo Koon too. 

At some point his medic arrives to the med bay, and when they look at each other, Fox wants to cry. 

Because the Coruscant Guard has a tendency of playing hero when natborn officers can’t be bothered to do the job they're actually paid for. They take calls that the natborns should take, but won’t because for some reason, saving a wife who’s beaten shitless by her husband is above their pay grade. And Commander Fox has been on several of those calls, and his medic has tended to several battered wives, husbands, children, and partners.

And Fox has personally escorted those battered individuals to the Coruscant HQ, and always he and his medic give each other that look. Because the world just gets eviler in Coruscant every day. 

And today his medic looks at Fox like he looks at them. Speaks to him  in the same, soothing tones that he does them. And Fox supposes now, he is one of them. 

Though when he's a bit better, he'll find a way to argue against his new label. 

For now, there is a hand on his head. Those four leather like fingers. Plo Koon wills him to sleep. 

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Nar Cyar’ika

Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

A/N: Thanks you so much to @starrylothcat and @a-single-tulip for going over this for me!

Prompts given: Telling someone you love them while you think they’re asleep and tentative kisses in the dark.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v (wrap it up irl), Crosshair being Crosshair, canon battles, violence, clone deaths 😭, if I’ve missed anything please @ me.

Word Count: 6.8k+

Tagging: @techs-feral-wife

“General! Look out!”

Upon hearing the warning, you automatically threw your hands up as the debris littered the ground around you. Casting the force shield as wide as you could to cover your troops, but still, the finer dirt rained down. The hiss of it was accompanied but the smell of burnt alloy, broken droids, and the freshness of the gauged earth.

“Captain?!” You called, choking on the fuel heavy air.

“All in one piece,” He responded wearily. He was feeling a little grim and tired but he was still there unharmed, as were the rest of the clones that held the line. A whole month you’d been out here. Fighting back droids in an endless barrage, constant casualties as men dropped around you, something you took personally.

Too many nights had been spent holding a dying man’s hand, trying to ease his passing and take away the pain of his wounds. You knew the name of every single one, taking a piece of their armour for their brothers, because that was all you were allowed. Your ship wasn’t built to carry home dead troopers, only the ones still breathing.

“Incoming!” A trooper’s yell alerted you to act. It was instinctive, reaching out with the force, directing the missile off to the side of your positions, and exploding in a shower of wood and earth. The trees groaned, crashing to the ground and taking out some advancing clankers under the thick trunks; starting a chain reaction of more explosions that beat the air around you.

“ETA on our reinforcements?” You had requested help, a few extra platoons would tip the scales in your favour and you hoped they were arriving in the next few minutes. You hefted your DC-17m and began to shoot some droids, the repeat blasts kicking back into your armour as you swept some bolts along the Separatist front line, picking your targets through the trees and hitting the mark every time.

Captain Wilco was shooting beside you, his helmet nodded and you knew he was talking on the internal com. It was frustrating that as a Jedi you didn’t have a helmet and only a com on your wrist. That was no good while you were shooting.

“ETA 2 minutes, General,” he relayed steadily.

“Do we know how many?” He hesitated at the question and you felt his faint emotion change through the force.

“Make me happy, Captain,” You ordered as you took out another B1 droid.

“Just a single Commando Squad…”

“Beexes! Heading straight for your position, General!” The warning came through the comlink this time and you lowered your blaster, hiding behind a wide tree trunk as Wilco slammed in beside you, blasters upright and pointing at the sky as he took a second to breathe. The swift thunk of bolts sounded loud, shedding some splinters of wood near your shoulder. You hated these droids.

“Hold this,” You said, holding out the deecee.

“Is it time to show off?” He asked, twirling his blasters and shoving them in their holsters before taking your blaster.

“Yeah, it’s time to show off.” Drawing your twin blades free was always an exhilarating moment. The yellow-green cast of the plasma was a beacon to your troops. When the lights were lit, it meant their General was getting personal with the clankers.

You could feel the fresh prick of adrenaline, spinning away from your cover and stabbing the first droid under the chin. The alloy melted, no match against your lightsaber and your nose wrinkled at this smell of ruined circuits.

Shedding the dead weight you bounced some bolts away, noticing three more heading straight for you. Three. You were tired, your shoulder ached and your entire body was being pushed to its limit but you soldiered on. Wilco fired from the cover you provided but they barely slowed the droids down.

Any second…any second. You could sense them, the squad that had been sent to help hold your position and now you knew why they had only sent one. At first, you’d expected Omega, maybe even Delta if they were ordered hard enough…no. They’d sent the squad you would take above all others.

You flowed through the motions, relying on the force to tell you what was headed your way a few seconds before it actually happened. A bolt aimed at your shoulder penetrating your armour, another coming to pierce your side. Your blades swung, reflecting the bolts away not having the time to direct them. The droids crossed paths, their legs easily picking over the uneven terrain as they jogged. Bringing your blades in an X, you clashed them together before wrenching them apart and pushing with the force.

To your annoyance they contorted, refusing to fall over and you felt a flash of anger. Spinning around you concentrated, letting go of your left saber to guide it in an arc slicing off the head of a droid.

Two down, two to go.

Now they were upon you, one constantly on the move as it shot at you while the other pulled a vibrosword from literally nowhere. Going toe to toe with a BX droid was not on your to-do list today, let alone four of them. It met you swing for swing, with the added distraction of the other one shooting at you, this really wasn’t a fair fight.

An explosion that made the earth roll beneath your feet caught you completely off-guard, and you stumbled. The tremor rocked through your body, jolting your sabers from your grip and the droid saw its chance. It lunged to grab you by the throat, lifting you as you clawed at the metal arm that had you in a vice-like grip.

“General!” You closed your eyes at the sound of Wilco’s desperate yell.

No, please no! Your mind was frantic and you did the only thing you could think of. Throwing your hand out, you pushed Wilco back. You didn’t need him coming to your recuse and getting himself killed. He was swept off his feet, landing heavily on his back. Your legs were kicking, trying not to succumb to the panic, but you couldn’t stop it. You weren’t a born soldier, all your years at the temple could not have prepared you for this side of war. You were a peacekeeper. That’s what they’d told you anyway.

You began to gasp, reaching into the force to try and find the strength to ease this droid’s grip but your concentration was slipping. Your body was failing and so was your mind as your lungs burned for some air.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Light flared across your blurred vision, the sound of your lightsaber cut through the fog in your mind and you felt yourself fall to the ground. Dragging the tainted air into your lungs you were finally able to take a breath. Hands grabbed you, hauling you to some cover and you were able to see who your saviour was.

Captain Wilco was shooting with your repeat blaster around the side of the tree, his shots sporadic to indicate fewer targets were in his line of sight. It was the other soldier that interested you right now, his black and red helmet thrown into stark relief in the light of your saber.

The light side of his helmet was a complete dichotomy to the dark tattoo that marked the same side of his face. He now cocked it as he peered at you from behind the wide visor. “You’ll be needing these.” He remarked, retracting the blade before depositing them firmly in your grip. Hunter yanked his knife free of his vambrace, staying in a crouched position, and peered around the tree. “Crosshair...” you heard him murmur through his vocoder and you knew he was talking via the comlink.

“The clankers are regrouping.” You smiled at the bite in the sniper’s voice. You couldn’t see him but you could feel him high up the side of the hill, his presence was always loud to you through the force. Even across the distance that had been between you the last five months, you’d always been able to reach out to him.

“Are you all right, General?” Wilco had that smooth tone to his voice, the one that told you he had shut down all his feelings and was reacting purely on instinct right now. This man was going through the motions.

“Fine. I’ll be sporting a new collar of bruises though. Now I know what Captain Rex was moaning about.”

“Orders?” Crosshair’s voice slithered through the com channel and Hunter turned to look at you as he waited.

“This is your party, Sarge. Go, do what you do.”

“You heard the General, boys. Let’s finish this.” Hunter melted away, prompting you to get up.

“Captain,” Wilco was by your side, letting you lean on him as your legs shook. “Let’s watch the show.”

“Not a single clanker left,” Wrecker announced loudly as they walked through the carnage to your position. Your robes were singed, and the armour you wore over the top was carbon scoured and would need a good clean. Your throat was still sore every time you swallowed but you wouldn’t let the medics near you. There were far worse injuries littering the field.

“I’m glad you boys decided to make it.”

“Sorry,” Hunter replied, pulling his helmet off and giving you a cocky smile. “Had to stop and ask some clankers for directions.”

“And there I was thinking we were making enough noise.” As you spoke your gaze drifted over the Sergeant’s shoulder to fix on the figure that was striding to join his squad. He was tall, his long legs picking their way easily over the droid shrapnel; the firepuncher pointing at the ground but held in a way you knew it could lift and take out a droid in less than a second.

“Your position was easy enough to triangulate. Plus, we sourced the coordinates directly from your ship when we answered the call.” Tech had his nose in his datapad, no doubt keeping an eye on the com chatter so he was alerted to any change in the GAR.

“What’s next?” Hunter asked.

“General.” You turned to face Wilco, he was holding a holodisk in his hand, depicting an image of your Admiral who was currently in orbit over the planet you stood on.

“Orders from Coruscant?” You queried and he nodded.

“We have been told to return immediately. The Fearless is coming to relieve us.”

“We do all the hard graft and then someone else sweeps in and just holds it for us.” Shaking your head you tried not to be tempted by the anger that loomed. You knew why they did it, you created results. The 71st made waves, they got things done and you all were a formidable force against the droids. “Say, you boys fancy some RnR? It’s been a while since we caught up.” You could feel Crosshair scrutinising you from under his helmet, you felt the jolt that your suggestion gave him except it wasn’t his decision.

Hunter cast his eye over the squad but it was Wrecker that answered. “Aw, yeah! Been a while since we had some decent food.”

“Plenty of that up top. What do you say?” Your offer hung in the air for a moment as they all exchanged glances with Hunter.

“Yeah, why not,” Hunter said slowly.

“Saves on fuel,” added Tech.

“Captain, contact the ship and let them know Clone Force 99 is going to dock with us. They’re going to need supplies and fuel if we can spare it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He turned away to the sound of the lartys as they landed.

“I need to accompany the wounded. See you on the flight deck.” Hunter gave you a salute, briefly touching his bandana and flicking his fingers away, but your gaze was settled on the sniper. He backed away, his attention clearly on you and it took all your concentration not to physically reach out to him.

So you used the force instead, stretching over the few metres that separated you, frustrated that he was so close and still so far away. A frown tugged on your brow when you felt he was…angry. It created heated spots in the force around him and he suddenly turned away, spinning abruptly and stalking after his squad mates.

Walking in the opposite direction you distracted yourself as you did after every battle, by concentrating on your clones.

You hated the aftermath. The way their adrenaline trickled away just left exhaustion and pain. The air in the gunship reeked of blood, dirt, sweat, and men. You were used to it, aware that you didn’t smell any better yourself. The whole battalion had been planetside for five days this round and they deserved a well-earned rest.

“Jumper…” you crouched beside a clone who was slumped in a brother's lap, barely able to hold his head up. There was a mark on his white chest plate, the red cross of no treatment, and tears sprang to your eyes.

“General,” He wheezed.

“Hang on soldier, we’re going home.” You took his hand and concentrated. Nothing you could do would stop the inevitable, all that was left was to ease his pain. “You fought bravely today,” you murmured. He sighed loudly and you hitched up a smile. “The meds working?”

“Yeah. Thanks, General…” You had no idea if he knew what you’d done or not. By the time you’d stood up and moved to the next soldier, he had taken his last breath.

You waited on the flight deck, supervising all the wounded being taken, giving a comforting word to the exhausted ones left behind. You were hurting, trying to keep your brave mask on until you could fall apart in your quarters. Attachment rules be damned, how could you not feel the ache with each life that was lost? When you personally felt their passing through the force and the void they left behind?

“Ship docking!” The Marauder glided effortlessly onto the flight deck, turning so tightly, it made some of the troopers watching hold their breaths but you’d seen Tech pilot this beauty before.

“Get a fuel line ready,” you ordered a clone and he jumped up to carry out the task.

The squad disembarked, casting uneasy glances around the matching faces that openly stared at them. You knew if any other Jedi had asked they would have refused the hospitality.

“Jet’ika! There she is!” Wrecker wasn’t one for protocol and acting appropriately and you didn’t care, letting the large clone pull you off the ground and into a bear hug that you so desperately needed.

“Wrecker, the regs are watching,” Tech murmured.

“What do I care?” He replied loudly and you grimaced as it echoed over the deck. “Wha’ you looking at?” He demanded from the nearest group.

“You’re embarrassing yourself, Wrecker.” Crosshair shoved past, his golden gaze avoiding yours. Something was up with him, maybe he was just pent up with frustration at not being able to greet you like Wrecker had. You wished he could, your entire body ached to be touched by him.

Five months was a long time.

“You boys hungry?” You asked when Wrecker finally put you down.

“I can guarantee one of us is,” Tech sighed as the big clone proclaimed he was starving again.

“No food fights this time,” You told Hunter, raising an eyebrow. “I had to do a lot of smooth-talking with the Admiral and Captain Wilco last time, not to mention the clean-up droid.”

“They’ll behave this time,” the Sergeant told you in a firm voice.

“Actually, I behaved last time,” Tech stated with a small frown on his face as they all followed you into the turbo lift.

“Only because you weren’t there,” Crosshair pointed out with an annoyed motion, pulling his toothpick out and flicking it at his brother.

Tech shrugged and barely flinched when the small stick bounced off his armour. “A minor detail.”

The doors opened and they stepped out, turning as one to face you. “Go relax, I need to get freshen up and then I’ll come and join you.” Hunter gave you a small nod of acknowledgement, Wrecker beamed, Tech gave you an absent wave and Crosshair didn’t even look at you. The door began to slide closed. Every fibre of your being wished Cross would look at you, so when his blazing, amber gaze finally locked with yours it felt like you’d been stunned, your breath stolen along with all the thoughts in your mind.

Five months was too long.

You went through the motions, raking your fingers through your hair and cleaning the grime of battle from your skin. Dirt and blood swilled away in the stream of water before the timer ran out and you sighed in the quiet space. It was never long enough but you understood the water had to be spread between an entire ship and everyone got the same amount of time in the shower.

You towelled yourself down and then wrapped up your body before stepping into your quarters. You had been so absorbed in what you were doing you didn’t expect someone to be standing by the door, leaning against the wall and you automatically threw your hands up.

“Jumpy,” He sneered.

“Well no one should be in here,” you snapped, still ashamed he’d managed to sneak up on you. Crosshair pushed away from the wall, uncrossing his arms to brush his fingertips against your grubby armour plates. You became acutely aware of how underdressed you were, clutching the towel tightly to your chest.

“You were reckless today.” With his words came a ripple of frustration, prickling at your senses and making you bristle in return.

“Isn’t that what we do on the battlefield?” Your answer made him scoff, dropping the armour with a clatter and looking up at the wall.

“You are not invincible,” he spoke with a sharp tone and his eyes held something hard and disclosed.

“I never said I was!” You gasped when he advanced on you, jabbing a finger into your bare shoulder, making you step back.

“I saw what you did!” He seethed in his icy voice. “For that…reg.” Drawing yourself up with as much dignity as you could muster while naked and only wrapped in a towel, you fixed a heavy glare on him.

“Captain Wilco is a fine soldier and I will not have you talk badly about any of my troopers.”

Crosshair straightened, crossing his arms as he regarded you with a displeased look on his face but that just wound you up more.

“Okay, you know what, Cross? I don’t have to listen to this. I have been down there for the past month watching men, your brothers, drop dead around me as they follow my orders.”

“They are not my brothers,” He spat, his gaze drifting away as though bored with the conversation. You sputtered angrily, the happy image of your long-awaited reunion was being replaced by this—anger and jealousy.

“No. You’ve never lost a brother, have you Crosshair?” Your voice had that hard edge you usually reserved for the Seps and you felt the briefest flash of doubt as it flickered through him before he squashed it.

“You are not one of them. No matter how hard you try.”

You laughed at his harsh statement but it held no joy.

“No? I may not have been pulled from a tank but I have no parents, I was holding a weapon that I knew how to use by the time I was 4 years old. I have seen as much, if not more death than your squad put together. Do you sense the moment a trooper passes? Do you feel it when they just…cease to be?”

His gaze flicked to your face, his eyes softening slightly when he saw the tears that sparkled in your eyes.

“I am not a clone, but they are a little pocket of family that I never had.” Turning away you grabbed your spare set of robes. “Now get out. That’s an order.”

The surge of anger from him was like a whip, making you flinch as he slammed a hand into the panel and shoved his way through the door before it had even fully opened. Your insides quivered as you tried to contain it all, but your shell was cracking, allowing the emotion of the last few weeks to finally show and you covered your face with shaking hands.

If only this wasn’t so hard.

“…and then, I picked him up by his neck.”

“What did Rex do?” Your eyes were wide as you nursed a cup of caf at the table with three members of the Bad Batch. Hunter was eyeing anyone that came too close, he was on edge here and you didn’t blame him. Your troops eyed them just as suspiciously. Tech was splicing some data he’d acquired from the Seps, you weren’t entirely sure and you didn’t have it in you to ask this time. Wrecker was doing a great job of distracting you from dwelling on the fact Crosshair wasn’t here. You could sense Hunter’s focus on you every now and again but you ignored it.

“The Cap couldn’t do much, but Crosshair took on that medic.”

“Kix?” You nudged Tech’s arm. “What did you do?”

“I asked Wrecker to put Jesse down. He didn’t listen.”

“Then I ruined all their fun,” Hunter said. “We can't afford to quarrel amongst ourselves. Crosshair needs that reminder more than most at the moment.”

“Where is he?” Tech looked up from his datapad. “Have you seen him?”

It was such a direct question and for a moment you panicked over what to say before shaking your head.

“He’s probably back at the ship.” Hunter pushed away his tray and went to stand up. Tech instantly followed but Wrecker moaned.

“Is it time to go already?”

“Not quite yet,” Hunter reassured him. “The General here is letting us go before they reach triple zero.”

Tech pushed his goggles up his nose as he looked at his brother. “I need to do some maintenance on the ship before we leave and I could us your assistance, Wrecker.”

“Take food with you,” You told the larger clone, pushing your own untouched tray in his direction.

“Bonus! Thanks, Jet’ika.” You grinned at the nickname. Wrecker had donned you with it the first time he saw you a couple of years ago. He followed Tech out of the food area, chomping happily on the extra food but your attention drifted to Hunter who paused.

“If you see him,” You said in a low voice.

“I’ll tell him.” This time you returned the salute and watched them all leave before making a move yourself.

You visited the medbay, checked on the injured clones, and had a chat with them as your ship sped through hyperspace. Keeping their spirits high was easier because they were heading for some leave. They certainly deserved it. Wandering the almost empty halls you debated heading to the bridge. Casting your senses you tried to get a feel for your ship. It lived and breathed like a living creature, the sheer amount of people in this flying city made it so. But one signature stood out. And he was back in your room.

You followed a familiar path, sensing his inner turmoil even as he slept, drawn towards it like a moth to a flame.

The first time you and Cross had given in, it gave you a thrill. Smoothing out the frustrated ripples in such a clone gave you a deluded sense of power. Not that you had any control over him, that wasn’t what you sought out, it was being needed by someone in a way you’d never been needed before.

You had life experience, more than most of your troops put together but it wasn’t something that was encouraged within the temple. You had seen, felt, and witnessed things that blew your mind. Love, you assumed, was a feeling reserved for civvies, not for Jedi. Compassion, a sense of caring was encouraged but love, raw passion. That was shut down.

And then you met Crosshair.

You had sensed his interest, the curiosity had been hard to ignore and he intrigued you just as much. It had taken you spending months with the Batch on a covert mission for the stoic clone to finally give in. And when it did, it opened your eyes to a feeling that encompassed you both completely. An all-consuming fire that burned whenever you were together.

Except this time. Because you had risked your life to save that of your Captain.

The door opened quietly and you slipped into the dark room. His armour was stacked up at the end of your bed and his breathing was even and steady telling you he was asleep. Crosshair was pressed up against the wall, a pillow of yours held close to his body and you felt a pang of guilt that you had spoken to him in such a way earlier. Sitting on the edge of the bed you sighed, plucking at your Jedi robes.

“This was not how I imagined my day going,” You whispered. This was a cheap move and you knew it, but if you told him now then maybe it would be easier to repeat when he was actually awake. “I’m breaking all the rules,” You confessed into the dark. “I feel like when I’m not with you I’m losing myself but when I am with you…I am not who I should be.” Biting your lower lip you stood up. “I love you, Crosshair. I’m aware I shouldn’t, I know that…but I can’t stop.” Glancing over your shoulder you saw he hadn’t moved, still curled around the pillow that smelled like you with his legs tucked up. “I hope I’m brave enough to say it to you when you’re awake.”

You debated going to find somewhere else to sleep, yet you knew this was the last time you’d probably see him for months and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Shedding your robes you carefully slipped in beside him and stared at the ceiling. He shifted and you froze. Crosshair uncoiled, rolling over to face you with the tiniest sigh.

“Look at me.” His was soft, whispering over your skin like the lightest of touches.

You obeyed, turning your face to catch his expression in the lights of hyperspace from the viewport in your room.

“Cross…” You stopped when he put a finger across your lips.

“It’s my turn.”

Your heart was pounding, you hadn’t paid attention to if he’d been awake or not, just assuming he was sleeping because of how even his breathing was. At least he was still here.

Crosshair’s eyes traced the way his finger trailed over your lips, rolling your bottom lip a little and your body responded instantly. He had so much to say, it crowded all inside him but he was never good at expressing how he felt with words and you saw his brow furrow. His fingers ghosted over your cheek, hooking around the curve of your neck and he dared to bring you closer. Your hand shot up to cover his, desperate to be close, to feel him everywhere at once.

Your eyes fluttered when his nose brushed yours, lips parting in a minute gasp when his breath pillowed against your cheeks. Maker help you, but you wanted him. You needed him right now and it coursed through you like the light of a supernova.

His lips were tentative, touches light as he gauged how you were responding to his hesitant advance. Both your mouths were open, neither of you wanting to break the delicate string that held you both suspended on this fine ledge. Anticipation swirled in your chest, it made each breath ache and your limbs tremble as the moment built to an almost perceptible hum in the force.

Your fingers tightened over his, giving him the permission he needed to close that gap between you both and sealing his mouth over yours.

The fall was glorious. Throwing you headlong into the taste of him as he crowded you against the bed. His body half covered you, pressing against your leg and letting you know he was there. A soft moan tumbled from your throat, succumbing to the sensations you had denied yourself for so long.

His mouth never stopped, burying his tongue deep into you and he manoeuvred over you completely, his arms on either side of your head as he swept his hands the sides of your face. Bringing your legs up he settled heavily between them, his body responding to the heat of yours as he rutted gently into you.

Your hips flexed, the friction against your clothed core was enough to make you moan again when you felt how hard he was through his blacks. His mouth left yours to trail wet kisses and nips along your jaw, making you arch into him, exposing your neck. He swept his tongue along your pulse point, pausing to lavish some attention on that place that made you shiver.

Your hands roamed up his muscular back, scraping your nails over the crop of short grey hairs, making him groan into your neck. You felt his lips draw back, the feel of his teeth pressing into your skin made you tense, only to surrender yourself to him completely.

He pulled down your vest top, letting out a warm breath that danced over your clavicle, making goosebumps erupt all over your body. He felt so good in your arms, his weight a comfort you realised you had missed as he slipped down. His hands were urgent, now rucking up your top to expose your heaving chest to him and he wasted no time in taking a nipple into his hot mouth.

Crosshair took his time, making sure you were writhing beneath him, whimpering with need before he moved on to the next part of your body. You pulled your own top off, glancing down to see him watching you with those eyes that almost glowed with the fire that burned within him.

His long fingers curled over the waistband of your pants, exposing your hip which he gently kissed, his gaze drawn to the way your stomach contracted at the teasing contact. Crosshair always noticed everything about your body, the way you moved, how you reacted in a certain way, and he used that to figure out your weaknesses. Of course, you’d never admit he was your ultimate weakness, all he had to do was look at you.

He moved over to repeat the motion on your other hip, tugging your pants down to expose you completely, finally rearing up to detangle you from your clothes. You hooked your legs around his slim waist and ran his hands along the line of your thighs, curling you up as he leaned forward to give you a kiss that had you gasping for air.

You knew what was coming next, Crosshair hardly ever deviated, wanting to get the most out of your encounter every time because neither of you knew when it was going to happen again.

His touch was slow but firm, dipping between your bodies as he leaned over you, supporting himself on one hand, his eyes watching your face when he gifted you with a teasing touch along your slit.

You heard the deep growl in his chest and his eyes closed. Long fingers deftly parted your lips and he brushed against your clit making your hips buck into his hand. When he pushed a finger into you it made your back leave the mattress. Your cunt fluttered around his touch, grasping desperately as he added another finger. He buried them deeply, pushing up and into you with a moan, his shoulders flexing from the motion and you leaned back against the pillow.

Your hands held onto him, legs quivering as he tortured you by drawing his fingers out of your wetness, making sure he was completely coated before shoving back into you, ripping a blissful cry from your chest.

He set a steady pace, dragging his fingers against the clenching walls of your sex, his need to feel every inch of you was something you were used to but never prepared for. Cross stroked that tender spot inside you, his fingertips winding up the coil in your lower belly that would have you eventually melting into the mattress.

His eyes intently watched your expression, his lips parted when he felt you shake around him, he knew you were close, he could feel it. And he pushed you over the edge. His breathing became ragged as you fell apart, his fingers not letting up, carrying you through the pleasure. Finally relenting when you hooked a hand around his tense neck and passionately kissed him.

Crosshair planted a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back onto the bed as he moved further back. His eyes devoured you, fingers sweeping up your inner thighs to collect the wetness that had leaked onto your skin. You watched, your body still thrumming with bliss as he put his fingers into his mouth, lifting his predatory gaze to lock with yours.

“You’re as sticky as uj’ayl,” He murmured.

“Cross…” you whimpered.

“Patience, nar cyar’ika.” His lips connected with your inner thigh, once more dragging his teeth against the softness of your skin, enjoying the way you gasped, hips undulating in a shamelessly desperate motion. He directed his attention to your core, using the flat of his tongue, slowly, teasingly, swirling around your clit.

You felt his fingers there once again, exposing you to his warm breath as he sighed. His mouth covered your entrance and you curled your fists in the covers. His tongue delved deeply, tasting you with a satisfied hum that vibrated up your spine, making you tremble.

Crosshair let you use him, grinding your hips against his face as you moaned desperately. One hand travelled up your body, pressing along your stomach to settle between your breasts, fingers spread so he could feel the throb of your heart as it beat in your chest.

It was gathering again, liquid fire searing through your veins and creating a reaction you had no control over. Your legs came up either side of his head, trying not to crush him so you settled your feet on his back. Your fingers slipped through the short, tough strands of his hair as your whole body flexed.

Your cries filled the room, a hand clenching in the pillow behind your head and your back arched wildly. Still, Crosshair persisted, his tongue stroking you into a blaze that only he could handle. His hips pressed into the mattress, his cock needy and aching to be buried inside you, but he could wait.

He groaned when you flooded his mouth, licking up every drop as your pleasure stole every basic function from your body. Each muscle contorted, holding you in a suspended state as the seal broke on the flames that licked across your sweaty skin.

Eventually, he released you, letting you flop bonelessly among the sheets. You protested weakly when he kneeled between your legs, only to shed his blacks before falling back into your arms.

He kissed you fervently, licking as deeply into your mouth as he had your cunt. He wasted no time in lining himself with your weeping entrance, his cock twitching in anticipation, dragging along the seam between your thighs and notching right where you wanted him the most.

Your hands slid down his back, following the lines of his tense muscles to hook in the plushness of his backside. You left him in no doubt of your intentions, not breaking a motion in the kiss as you widened your hips and used your arms to pull him forcefully into you.

He gasped when you clenched around him, seating himself to the hilt in your slick as his face rested on top of yours. His breath was strained and lust laden, his tongue coming out to lick at your lips making you whine as you did the same.

Crosshair filled you, creating a pressure inside you that was unrivalled, and it made your body quiver. Your grip on him relaxed when he began to move, pulling free until only the pulsing head of his cock was nestled comfortably inside you.

The snap of his hips was loud and you cried out together, breaking apart his resolve. There was urgency in his movements, a neediness that transcended words as he worked you both to the point of no return.

It didn’t take him long, already working himself into a state of desperation that he was finally feeding as he rutted into you. “I want to watch you,” He snarled into your lips, pushing up from the bed to kneel again. He lifted one of your legs, holding it up against his flushed chest, and worked his hips, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll. He planted a kiss on your ankle, his ferocious gaze magnetised to yours.

Your body was rung out and taut at the same. Your throat hurt, torn from the cries he pushed from you with each thrust. You knew you were going to ache all over for the next few days but it would have been worth it. Crosshair’s fingers imprinted on your skin, the sweat of his body dripped with yours creating a heady cocktail that sent your senses soaring. He was everywhere, suffocating you in the most desirable way as he began to lead you to the precipice once more.

His thrusts became sloppy, his cock pulsed inside you, eyelids fluttering as he tried to keep his attention on your face. A faint roar sounded in your ears as your blood flushed. Lightning shattered under your skin, electrifying your body to the point where you became hyper-aware of every nerve ending.

Crosshair bared his teeth, sweat beaded on his temple and he picked up the pace to bring you both drastically to a catastrophic end. His spine curled toward you when he came, his form juddering as he growled, pushing his hips into you and exploding deep in your cunt.

You were incoherent, only able to scream his name from the pressure, your nails dragging along the firmness of his sides. Your vision faded out, your heart was fit to burst with every slight thrust that sent intense shockwaves through your body.

He released your leg, letting it flop down and he fell on your lips once more, heaving in your scent and coming down from his high. His arms slid under you, gathering you into his embrace as you both listened to the knock of each other's hearts.

You lay entangled together, your face tucked against his chest and he rested his chin on the top of your head. Your fingers were tracing lazy patterns on his cooling skin, trying not to dwell on the fact he was leaving soon.

“Did you mean it?”

You froze at the question, suddenly remembering what had started this whole encounter.

“Mean what?” You focussed on the way his throat tensed, frustration coming through the turbulent calm because you were forcing him to explain.

“What you said.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

He sighed.

“I’m not anymore.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant and you risked leaning back to look into his face. His gaze roamed openly over your features, almost as though he was committing you to his memory and so you did the same.

Using your fingertips you followed the cut of his jaw, feeling the stubble that was starting to shadow his face. You brushed a thumb over the darkness of his tattoo, knowing what resided behind such a mark. It didn’t matter how many times this man tried to push you away, or how strongly he believed he wasn’t good enough for you, nothing could stop you from wanting him.

“Yes, I meant it.” There was a wave of warmth, tinged with surprise, he hadn’t expected you to admit outright. “I don’t care about the consequences,” You whispered.

“You might.”

You shook your head, fingertips delicately tracing the curve of his ear.

“Not when it comes to you.”

His arms tensed, pulling you back into his chest and you curled willingly against him, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax. He hadn’t said the words, he didn’t need to. You could sense that he loved you too. He wanted to voice them, you could sense that as well, but he knew the ramifications of what such a declaration meant.

And he was willing to protect you for as long as he had to.

[lamaenthel]

Tivaevae | Chapter One: Ripped At The Seams

Still struggling to emotionally recover from Master Obi-Wan's deception, Ahsoka discovers in the aftermath that twelve-year-old Boba Fett has been locked up among adults in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center. After convincing Chancellor Palpatine to grant him a pardon, she manages to secure his release on the condition that she serve as his legal guardian. Now, with the help of Master Plo and the Wolfpack, she vows to help him track down what family he has left.

| AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |

Fandom: Star Wars Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Boba Fett, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Kanan Jarrus, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CC-1119 | Appo, Dexter Jettster, FLO | WA-7 (Star Wars), Shaak Ti, ARC Commander Blitz (Star Wars), CT-6922 | Dogma, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), CC-3636 | Wolffe, Clone Trooper Sinker (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Comet (Star Wars), CC-2224 | Cody, CT-5597 | Jesse, CT-4860 | Boost, Aurra Sing, Tobias Beckett, Null-11 | Ordo Skirata, Kal Skirata, Original Mandalorian Characters (Star Wars), Original Droid Characters (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars) Total Word Count: 123,000 Chapter Word Count: 6,751

"And then Grey was like skoosh skoosh skoosh–" Caleb held up an imaginary carbine and let loose a series of blasts, so enthusiastic about his reenactment that he nearly fell off of the courtyard bench. " –and the SBD just exploded! He got him right in the power core! And then-and then-and then I did a backflip off of his shoulder, and I cut three B1's in half! It was so wizard."

"You did?" Mace gasped, theatrically placing a hand on his chest in feigned shock. He had a reputation for being overly stoic, cold even, but there was nothing that defrosted the Master like his Padawans. Depa had dropped off young Caleb to have lunch with his Grand-Master with a weary gratitude that Obi-Wan remembered well; ironically, it had usually been Mace that would give him a break from Anakin more often than not, back then.

"Sure did," Caleb raised his chin proudly. "Have you ever done that with your commander, Master Obi-Wan?" he asked eagerly, looking at him from the other side of Mace with bright turquoise eyes.

Obi-Wan swallowed his mouthful of salad. "Unfortunately, no," he said with a smile. "I think I might squash poor Cody if I tried, though, I weigh a bit more than you."

"Is that why you're watching your figure?" Mace asked wryly, looking at Obi-Wan's bowl of fresh greens.

"I don't care if they're nutritionally complete, human beings were not intended to survive off of ration bars alone," Obi-Wan grumbled into his salad.

"I didn't jump off Grey, I jumped off the battle droid!" Caleb giggled.

"Ah," Obi-Wan said. "Well, the answer is still no, but I'll make sure to bring it up to him before our next strategy meeting."

"Good idea!" Caleb said with a grin, then shoved a handful of fried tatos in his mouth. His nerfburger had been inhaled two meandering stories ago.

"Well, I'm impressed. That sounds like a very successful first mission." Mace gave him a pat on the back then added an unholy amount of orbakradish paste to his bowl of red turu rice, green peppers and bantha strips.

"Can I have some?" Caleb asked curiously, staring at the bright green bottle his grand-master had pulled from his pocket curiously.

"It's very spicy," Mace warned before leaving a tiny smudge on the boy's plate, then took a stoic bite of his rice bowl.

Caleb carefully dipped a corner of his fried tato in the orbakradish and took a bite. His eyes went wide. "Ow," he said faintly, and held his mouth open. "Aow. Aow."

Mace chuckled, dipped a tato in the cup of vinegar on the other side of Caleb's plate, then popped it in his open mouth. "I did warn you," he said as Caleb furiously chewed. "Orbakradish isn't like capsaicin. For that, you need some sort of cream. To cure this, you need vinegar."

Caleb sighed with relief. "Thanks, Master." He hurriedly popped another vinegar-soaked tato in his mouth, then finished off the rest of the plate with the speed that only eleven-year-old boys could manage without making themselves sick. Mace and Obi-Wan exchanged amused looks while they ate their own meals at a less tornadic pace.

"Go on, Padawan. Time to meditate, then practice your forms at the training salle." Mace patted Caleb on the back and took his empty plate once he'd licked it clean.

"Will you come and– I mean, I would be honored if you would spar with me after your Council meeting is done, Master." Caleb said bashfully. "If you want to. I, um, I know you're busy."

"I'm not sure how long I'll be, but I'll head down to the salles as soon as we're done. I'd be happy to spar with you, Padawan." Mace patted his cheek fondly and winked.

"Okay!" Caleb bowed hurriedly to Mace and then Obi-Wan. "Bye, Masters!" He took off at a run, almost tripping on his robes twice before disappearing around the corner.

"I miss that age," Obi-Wan said forlornly. "They're still so enthusiastic about everything. Once they hit puberty…"

"The attitude, I know," Mace said knowingly. He took a final bite from his rice bowl and reached a hand out for Obi-Wan's dish. "I'm grateful for Depa and Devan. Echuu was a handful. Girls are easier."

"Girls are not easier," Obi-Wan snorted, then rubbed his bald head, textured with a thousand offended bumps. The whole thing was so damn itchy, he'd had to meditate three times that morning just to keep his sanity. Perhaps Lace had some procaine cream in the medbay that he could borrow until all of the hairs had poked through the skin.

"Mine were," Mace shrugged.

"Yours aren't vindictive," Obi-Wan sighed.

"Why would they be?" Mace asked blithely. "I trained them well. They are above pettiness."

Obi-Wan glared at the sky instead of Mace. "Lucky you," he said to the speeder traffic above the Temple.

"I warned you about the consequences of leaving Anakin and Ahsoka out of the loop," Mace reminded him. "You insisted."

"I know." They both stood and began the long walk to the Council chambers elevator.

Mace passed their bamboo dishes onto a waste droid when they passed one then fished around for something in his pocket. "And you are the one who suggested that they go on the mission that 'killed' you," he pointed out, then popped a mint candy into his mouth.

"I know," Obi-Wan huffed. "I understand that my actions have consequences, Mace, I'm not a child."

"Then why are you so upset?" Mace asked.

"I'm not upset," Obi-Wan said automatically.

Mace rolled his eyes. "You aren't at peace, that's for certain."

"I–" Obi-Wan raised his hands and let them fall. "Ahsoka's never been one to hold a grudge at all, let alone at me. I expected the cold shoulder from Anakin, but not her."

"Ah. She's still hurt, then."

"She's got no reason to be hurt," Obi-Wan insisted.

"She discovered your 'corpse,' my old friend," Mace said.

"Please, p-please Bobi, open your eyes, open your… no, no, no, please no, Bobi please–"

"Would you really be so unmoved if you'd discovered hers?"

She fell to the ground like a ragdoll, dead from a single touch. Her limbs were twisted and her yellow eyes stayed open, filmy and veined with black like the rest of the Dark Side corruption that covered her.

He banished the memories. "That's different," Obi-Wan insisted. "We are not meant to outlive our Padawans."

"Yet we do." Mace called the elevator. "More and more often, it seems. And I do not see that changing until this war is over."

That reminded him. "Have you discussed your idea with Master Yoda?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.

"It's difficult to find a good time to propose an assassination," Mace answered. "Especially the assassination of his old Padawan."

The elevator arrived. The two Masters stepped on and began the journey up.

"You've discussed it with Quinlan?" Mace asked.

"I have. He's not unwilling."

"Good to know."

The two fell silent, and Obi-Wan commanded the mental image of Ahsoka's corpse lying at the feet of her killer to stop popping into his thoughts. The encounter on Mortis felt like a dream. He still wasn't sure what had actually happened, what was real and what was a vision, but the memory of Anakin's yellow eyes and his little girl lying dead and corrupted by the Dark side haunted him at the most inopportune moments.

May he become one with the Force before ever seeing such horrors again.

The elevator opened. The two walked down the hall to the inside of the Council chambers and took their seats in companionable silence. They were still a bit early, and no one else had yet arrived.

"Caleb was not supposed to be in active combat yet," Mace said after a few moments. "In case you were wondering. The mission he was assigned was a scouting mission. The droids were a surprise."

"Do you think I'm judging you, old friend?" Obi-Wan asked with a raised brow.

"No, but I thought you may want to know." Mace leaned back with an unreadable expression on his face. "He is very skilled, but I personally would prefer he not be on the front lines until he gains more experience."

Obi-Wan remembered Ahsoka eagerly bouncing off of the transport and straight onto the front lines of one of the most gruesome campaigns of the early war. "I understand," he said gently. "Unfortunately, there's only one way to get experience."

"I'm aware." The muscle in Mace's jaw worked a bit before he settled into his usual serenity.

"Greetings, Master Windu. Master Kenobi." Shaak-Ti's hologram flickered into view and she bowed her head.

The two men bowed theirs in return. "How fares Kamino?" Obi-Wan asked lightly.

"Sunny, for a change," Shaak-Ti said with a small smile. "The cadets have been training outside all day on the landing pads."

Mace smiled at her. "I'm happy to hear it."

"As am I," Plo said pleasantly. He and Depa bowed from the entrance, Yoda hobbling beside them. Depa spared a fond smile for her old Master as she took her seat, which Mace returned.

More holograms popped up; Kit Fisto, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Saesee Tiin, Agen Kolar, Coleman Kcaj, Luminara Unduli, Oppo Rancisis, and Stass Allie were all still on the front lines. Kit's hologram was cross-legged and floating subtly, broadcasting underwater from the ocean world of Klarn.

"Begin, we shall," Yoda said after clearing his throat. "May the Force guide us as we proceed."

Murmurs of agreement followed him.

"May I be the first to compliment Master Kenobi's haircut," Kit's hologram grinned at him.

"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan deadpanned, resisting the urge to scratch his blasted scalp again.

"We are all very glad to see you alive and well," Shaak-Ti added with a twinkle in her eye. "You should stay close-shaven. You look twenty years younger."

Obi-Wan sighed. He was very aware; it was half the reason he had grown the beard in the first place. Shaak-Ti's tinkling giggle rang like a bell at his reaction.

A round of chuckles echoed her and Mace held up a hand to quiet them. "Our first order of business," he began with a smile, reading off a datapad, "is– oh." His smile disappeared and his eyebrows went up as he glanced over at Obi-Wan. "Padawan Ahsoka Tano has requested to speak with us."

Obi-Wan sat at attention. "She has?" he asked, surprised.

"Go ahead and send her in," Mace said into the comlink in his chair. "Do you know what this is about?" he asked Obi-Wan curiously.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I've no idea," he answered.

The chamber doors opened and Obi-Wan watched Ahsoka step primly inside, pointedly not looking at him despite his centrality in her line of sight. He crossed his legs and frowned.

"Koh-to-yah, little 'Soka," Plo said. "Why have you come before us today?"

"Koh-to-yah, Master Plo. And thank you for allowing me to speak with you on such short notice, Masters," Ahsoka said politely. She made a deep bow and stood with perfect posture, her hands clasped in front of her. "I wish that this was not necessary, but as a Jedi I am a mandated reporter of abuse. If I witness the mistreatment of a child, I must speak up."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, his ire easing. "What did you witness, dear?" he asked, the epithet slipping out automatically.

Her eyes slid onto him and he was immediately taken aback by how cold they were. "I need to report that there is a twelve-year-old human child being held in a maximum security prison facility alongside murderers, rapists, and violent criminals of all sorts right here on Coruscant," she said icily.

Obi-Wan's stomach dropped. He already knew who she was referring to, and cac, it should have been him reporting it. He'd completely forgotten about his encounter with Boba Fett. He had been so consumed with not just keeping his cover and managing Bane, but blocking the Force bond he shared with his Padawans in order to sell his death that Boba had simply slipped his mind. Force, the shock of seeing a twelve-year-old clone in the middle of supermax dissipated almost as soon as it had struck and Obi-Wan had just… left him there. He felt an alkaline knot of guilt twist around his belly.

There was a smattering of surprised gasps among the Councilors.

"Who is this child?" Depa demanded.

"What could he have possibly done to be imprisoned?" Ki-Adi-Mundi asked, bewildered.

Master Luminara shook her head. "We must contact the Guard at once, surely there was an error–"

Ahsoka held up a hand. "The boy is Boba Fett, Masters. After his failed attempt on Master Windu's life, he was sent to the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center."

Looks of grim understanding passed between the Council members. Mace leaned forward. "He's in an adult prison?" he asked, anger coloring the edges of his voice. "Has he been there since he was taken into custody?"

"It would appear so, Master, yes."

Mace sank back, frowning severely. "I recommended leniency," he murmured, almost to himself. "The Chancellor assured me his age and his trauma would be taken into account. I believed he'd be sent to a juvenile facility at worst."

"As did I," Plo said heatedly. "Adult prison, for a child. This is not justice."

"Padawan Tano, find out this information, how did you?" Yoda asked, frowning.

"Well, Master," she said, turning, and Obi-Wan was slightly mollified to hear her address Yoda with the same frostbitten tone. She still hadn't forgiven him for Dogma. The clone was thankfully still alive, as Shaak-Ti had made enough of a fuss on Kamino to have gotten him imprisoned instead of immediately euthanized, but Ahsoka wouldn't be satisfied until he was back in the 501st. "I was viewing the helmet-cam footage from the prison riot that Master Kenobi participated in, and–"

"Is that footage not classified?" Ki-Adi-Mundi interrupted, frowning.

"The report is, but the footage was not, no," she said. "I watched it multiple times, and after I saw Master Kenobi fighting Boba I checked his report." Her eyes flicked onto him and then back to Ki-Adi-Mundi. "There's no mention of Boba in the non-redacted portions."

There was no mention of Boba in it at all, because Obi-Wan had forgotten about him like an idiot. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. A dozen heads turned and stared at him, and he'd never missed his beard more than he did at that moment.

"You fought Boba Fett?" Plo asked him sharply.

"Moralo Eval paid him to start a brawl with me in order to provide a distraction for his and Bane's escape," Obi-Wan said, staring at Ahsoka. She was very carefully studying her boots. He'd bought her those boots. "After I inserted myself into the escape party I… lost track of him."

"He is very small for his age," Ahsoka said with false sympathy. "I know you had bigger concerns at the time, Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan's skin crawled like it was covered in ants. All of the extra blood rushing to his face was making his stubble itchier than ever.

"We will contact the Chancellor regarding Boba immediately, Ahsoka," Plo insisted, on the edge of his seat and visibly displeased. "We will ensure the boy is placed into a foster home and receives mind healing. Thank you for your diligence, and for bringing this injustice to our attention."

"Thank you, Master," Ahsoka said with a smile, then bowed to him. Obi-Wan felt irrationally jealous of the warmth in her tone. "But I am not sure that a foster home would be the best fit for Boba. He's young, but skilled at both combat and subterfuge. I'm concerned that he would escape and be at just as much risk on his own." She frowned. "He would likely seek out his father's old compatriots again."

"A fair concern," Kit conceded, his smile long gone.

"Do you have a suggestion?" Depa asked mildly.

Ahsoka clicked her heels together. "I would like to volunteer to serve as Boba's temporary legal guardian until I can reunite him with his family," she said solemnly.

The Council chamber went silent in surprise.

"You're only sixteen," Obi-Wan said faintly. "You can't–"

"Actually, as sixteen is the age of responsibility on Shili, I can," she said frostily. "I am a legal adult."

"It's seventeen on Coruscant," he argued. "You–"

"I believe that if I am trusted to lead a battalion of clone troopers into combat, I should be trusted to safeguard the well-being of a single child," she said, speaking over him. "And according to the most recent immigration statutes passed in the Senate, as a full, dual citizen of both worlds, I am actually considered a legal adult on Coruscant." She smiled at him, all teeth.

"Does he have a family?" Saesee Tiin asked. "I was under the impression that Jango Fett was a loner."

"I spoke with the older clones before coming to the Council, Master," Ahsoka said with perfect poise, and Force did it irritate Obi-Wan to see her use her manners for once. "They informed me that there were members of the Cuy'val Dar – that is, the Mandalorian trainers that Jango Fett recruited to train the clones for war – several of them were very close to him. Under the Mandalorian tradition, some could be considered family."

"What an excellent idea, Padawan," Plo said. "I would be grateful if you would come with me to meet with the Chancellor. I'm certain that you will be able to help me persuade him of the right course of action. We will seek out these Cuy'val Dar together, and reunite young Boba with what family remains to him."

Ahsoka bowed again. "It would be my honor, Master," she said sweetly.

Obi-Wan continued to silently seethe.

"Thank you again, Masters, for taking the time to speak with me," she said warmly, then her eyes flickered over to Obi-Wan. "I do hope that Master Kenobi is not censured too severely for failing to report such egregious abuse of a child. I'm certain he was simply preoccupied with his mission."

That was it. Ahsoka did not get to march into the Council chambers wearing boots that he had bought for her and humiliate him in front of his peers out of childish spite. Obi-Wan's hand slammed down onto the arm of his chair, startling everyone. "A word, Padawan," he said through gritted teeth.

"Of course, Master Kenobi," she said serenely.

He stood and led her brusquely from the Council chamber by her right bicep, ignoring the whispers of his fellow Council members behind them.

"An deach thu às mo chiall?" he hissed once the doors had closed and they had a spot of privacy. He released her arm and glared down at her. "Carson a tha thu a’ toirt eas-urram dhomh?"

"Apologies, Master Kenobi," Ahsoka said politely. "I didn't intend to publicly disrespect you."

He stared down at her. Her refusal to speak Maor-Grásta back to him hurt more than the silent treatment. That was their language. No one else at the Temple spoke the indigenous language of the planet crudely known as Stewjon, not even Anakin, though he had tried to teach him. "So this is how you're going to be, then?" he asked finally.

She blinked at him. "I'm not sure what you mean, Master."

"You damn well do," he snapped, and finally gave in to the urge to scratch his damn scalp. "This is childish of you, Ahsoka. You're better than this."

"Better than what?" she asked, cocking her head. "I've been nothing but polite, Master, but if you find my conduct unbecoming then I apologize. I will meditate on our interaction until Master Plo calls me to meet with the Chancellor." She bowed and turned to leave.

Obi-Wan caught her by the left arm and spun her back around. She hissed in pain and ripped her arm away.

"Please refrain from putting your hands on me, Master Kenobi," she said frostily.

Obi-Wan stared at her, knowing that if he asked what was wrong with her arm he'd get no answer. "I'm not putting my… Ahsoka, please, stop this."

"I'm not sure what you wish me to stop, Master."

"Stop acting like you've never met me before!" Obi-Wan said, raising his voice in frustration.

For just a second, her placid mask crumbled and he saw the devastation she was hiding underneath. The mask reappeared and she looked away, pursed her lips and shrugged. "Recent events have shown that I haven't, Master," she said quietly. "Not really."

Obi-Wan sagged and this time, he didn't stop her from walking away.

Ahsoka went through her mental checklist again. She couldn't muck this up. If she somehow pissed off Chancellor Palpatine or failed to convince him that Boba didn't belong in supermax, the kid was screwed.

"Do not be nervous, little 'Soka," Plo whispered, squeezing Ahsoka's right shoulder reassuringly. They sat together on a plush bench in a waiting area right outside the Chancellor's office.

"I can't help it, Master," she whispered back. "What if I make it even worse, somehow?"

"I would advise you, respectfully of course, to think of what your Master would not do and try that."

Ahsoka snorted. His aura was a little too gold with humor for the seriousness of the situation.

"Trust in the Force. We are in the right, here, and we know this."

She nodded. "Yes, Master."

"You may enter," one of Chancellor Palpatine's secretaries called from the doorway; a short, plump Human woman with black hair shorn down to the scalp and the pale skin of someone who worked and lived exclusively indoors.

Ahsoka took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then followed Master Plo to the Chancellor's office. He was still sitting at his desk, writing something with an electric pen that showed up as a language she didn't recognize on the left side of his desk.

"Master Koon," the Chancellor smiled, and bowed his head. "And Padawan Ahsoka. My, how you've grown since I last saw you! I must say, Anakin raves about you every time we meet. He is very proud of you."

"Thank you, Chancellor," Ahsoka said sheepishly, ducking her head. There was nothing specific about the Chancellor himself that put her on edge, it was the office. There was just something unnerving about it. The statues of the Four Sages seemed to watch her from their posts bordering the room, and some of the art vibrated weirdly in the Force. Nothing she could pin down, just off.

She peered down at the unfamiliar writing on the Chancellor's desk. "That's a beautiful script," she said, projecting her aura out over the room with green serenity-amiability. It helped block out the weird vibrations of his artwork. "I don't recognize it."

"It's the poet's script," the Chancellor said, his naturally violet aura gone blue with appreciation. "It's an old traditional practice on Naboo. It's never been a spoken language, but one used solely for the arts."

"That's fascinating," Ahsoka said, returning his smile. "Do you write poetry, Chancellor?"

He chuckled and looked down, darkening with humility. "Oh, I dabble," he confessed with a smile. "It's a bit self-indulgent, of course, but it calms my mind."

"Nonsense, Chancellor," Plo assured him. "It is good to know that even in this period of war and violence, our leader makes time to create something beautiful for the galaxy."

Ahsoka was impressed. Plo could give Ob– Master Kenobi a run for his credits when it came to schmoozing.

"Ah, well," the Chancellor shrugged, his smile widening. "I doubt you called for an emergency meeting to discuss my poetry, dear. What can I do for you?"

Ahsoka sat up straight. "There has been a grave miscarriage of justice, Chancellor," she said solemnly. "Boba Fett has been placed into supermax alongside adults instead of a juvenile facility. He is a Fett clone, yes, but totally unaltered. He ages at a normal rate, not the accelerated rate of the troopers." She adjusted her projection to include a yellow ribbon of pity. "He's only twelve, Sir. Every second he spends in that place his life, his- his bodily sanctity is at risk."

Chancellor Palpatine went gray with surprise. "Oh, goodness," he said, immediately swiping away his poetry and summoning Boba's file up to the holoscreen of his desk. "Let me see here– ah." His holoscreen filled up with copies of legal documents, medical records, and crime scene holopics. "It seems that the judge presiding over his case determined that he was too dangerous to be kept in a juvenile facility." He glanced at her. "I cannot say that I disagree. He is unnaturally skilled for a boy his age, from what I have heard. He killed a Marshall Commander."

"Respectfully, Chancellor, Commander Ponds was murdered by Aurra Sing. Boba could not pull the trigger," Master Plo gently corrected.

"I understand the risks, Chancellor," Ahsoka said. "I would like to volunteer to serve as his legal guardian until I can reunite him with his father's Mandalorian family."

The Chancellor's eyebrows almost hit his hairline. "Jango Fett had family?" he asked, going a lighter gray with shock.

"In the Mandalorian tradition of found family, yes," Ahsoka nodded.

"So young Boba would escape punishment for his crimes against the Republic?" the Chancellor asked after a moment of curt silence.

"Boba Fett is but a child, Chancellor," Plo said peacefully. "He was manipulated by individuals that were once acquainted with his father and they used his grief to their advantage. They abandoned him at the first opportunity."

The Chancellor nodded, thinking. "That may be so, Master Koon, but he did kill hundreds of his fellow clones through his actions."

"He did, Chancellor, that can't be disputed," Ahsoka said softly, projecting strong amber amenability at him. "But he's an orphan, and he's twelve. He's exceptionally vulnerable to manipulation by adults that knew his father. They're the only connection he has left to him."

"The cadets that he infiltrated reported that he seemed reluctant to leave them to their fate," Plo piped up. "While his quest was misguided from the start, his target was Master Windu. The loss of clone life and the destruction of The Endurance was wholly unintentional."

"While sabotaging the hyperdrive of The Endurance, he had an opportunity to end the life of clone trooper Rivers," Ahsoka added. "He spared his life and stunned him instead. We truly believe that if not for the presence of Aurra Sing, Castas, and Bossk, he never would have taken that step."

"So you propose instead that I pardon the one who killed hundreds of clone troopers, naval officers, and support staff on account of his age?" Chancellor Palpatine steepled his hands underneath his chin and looked at her sympathetically. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I cannot in good conscience do such a thing. Aside from the morality of it, the boy could wreak untold damage if he escaped your custody."

"I promise he won't!" Ahsoka exclaimed, leaning forward. "Please, Chancellor. I know he made a terrible error in judgment that cost many lives, but he's twelve."

"So you've said," the Chancellor said dryly, lowering his hands. "Ahsoka–"

Ahsoka impulsively reached across his desk and clasped his hands. "He needs rehabilitation, not a life sentence before it's even began," she said earnestly. She wouldn't go so far as to try and mind trick him, not with Plo right there, but her Empathy was stronger with physical touch. She let burnt-orange supplication roll down her arms and flow from her hands onto his. "Please, Chancellor," she said, popping her porg eyes. "Just give him a chance."

The Chancellor's aura flushed copper with affection-agreement. "You do make a compelling argument," he said fondly, withdrawing his hands after giving hers a squeeze. "The Great Negotiator has taught you well."

Ahsoka ducked her head with a small smile, trying not to let him feel the cold shock of hurt that Master Kenobi's nickname triggered.

"Very well." He raised his chin to look over Ahsoka's shoulder at his secretary. "Go fetch Commander Fox, please."

"Right away, Sir." The secretary scurried off and the Chancellor drew up a document.

"I shall grant Boba Fett a full pardon, effective immediately," he said, then glanced up at Ahsoka with a smile. He transferred something onto a datapad and handed it to her. It was a legal certificate declaring her the legal guardian of one Boba Fett.

Oh, kriff, she hadn't actually let herself believe that she'd get this far. She had a kid. She had a shabla kid. A shabla clone kid.

"Congratulations, my dear, it's a boy," he said with a small chuckle and a wink. "I do hope Anakin isn't too cross with you. I can't imagine that he expected to become a grandfather quite this early."

Ahsoka's stripes went hot. Her Master… was not going to be pleased with her, to put it lightly, but she just couldn't leave Boba in there a second longer than necessary if she could put a stop to it.

"Please, 'Soka, you have to get him out of there," Rex pleaded, staring at the screen with an aura gone stark white with shock-horror-outrage. "He's so little. They'll kill him, they'll– osik, what have they already done to him–"

She would have done it anyway, but Force if Rex's begging wasn't compelling. She'd break Boba out if she had to.

But really, Anakin was going to kill her once he got back from Toydaria with that Force-sensitive toddler.

"Commander!" Chancellor Palpatine said brightly over Ahsoka's shoulder. "Please escort Master Koon and Padawan Tano down to the detention center. Boba Fett is being released into her custody, effective immediately."

"Oh. Interesting. As you say, Sir," Fox said, then turned to Ahsoka and Plo. "Ready whenever you both are," he nodded.

"Take care, Ahsoka," Chancellor Palpatine said warmly, standing along with them. "And do be on guard with young Boba. From what I understand, the boy is quite crafty, despite his tender age."

"Oh I will, Chancellor, don't worry. I remember how much of a handful he was." Ahsoka bowed and tried to ignore the way the statues of the sages stared at her. "Thank you again. You've saved a life today."

"And my thanks as well, Chancellor," Plo added, bowing after her. "We appreciate your expediency."

"I wish you luck in your endeavor, my dear." Palpatine winked at her. "And don't be afraid to visit more often. I've got some stories about Anakin as a youth that you might enjoy."

Ahsoka's stripes flushed again and she picked at her thumb's cuticle.

"Alright, General, Commander. Let's get you over to the prison before sundown." Fox slung his carbine over his shoulder and led the way out.

Boba curled up tighter on his side, willing the pain in his sides to go away. After he'd jumped Hardeen it had been chaos. He wasn't sure if it was the guards or the other bastards he was locked in here with that had broken his ribs, but it didn't really matter. He needed to get better. He couldn't afford to look weak. Prison was worse than a jungle, at least an animal just killed you and was done with it. The predators here liked to play with their food, first.

"Come on, little man, come bunk with me. I know it gets cold at night, you must be shivering with only a lizard to keep you warm–"

At least in solitary Boba could focus all of his energy on healing instead of defending himself. He chewed on his split lip and readjusted his face against the wall so that his black eye was pressed directly against the cold surface.

"Time to go, Fett."

Boba was sitting upright and ready to respond in under a second. Nobody would know by looking at him that he was holding his breath so as not to scream from the pain. One meiloorun, two meiloorun, three meiloorun–

"Go where?" he asked after a few seconds, cool as a caniphant. Fox, on the other side of the bars, had two DC-17 sidearms, a DC-15A carbine, and two vibroblade hits sticking out from his gauntlets. Two pairs of cuffs hung from his belt next to a small canister of capsaicin spray.

Boba could get to the spray the easiest, kick the back of Fox's knee, twist his arm and grab the blaster–

"It's your lucky day, cyar'solus," Fox said, undoing the biometric locks on his cell.

"Don't call me that," he snapped. Damn it, Boba didn't want to go back to genpop yet, he was still too injured. The guards tried to watch out for him; some of them did, anyway, the ones who didn't hiss vod'kyramud when he passed them in the halls. Bossk usually stuck up for him but he was just one man. Boba already had a size disadvantage, but with his ribs fucked his speed suffered. He eyed the capsaicin spray at Fox's belt again. He'd get his ass kicked if he went for it, but they'd keep him in solitary longer. Fox had the frame of a gundark but he wasn't a shabuir, he would just give him another lump or two before locking his cell again instead of rebreaking things on purpose.

Fox snickered. "I'll call you whatever I want. Now face down on the floor, you know how this works."

Yeah, he did. Boba swallowed hard and carefully got on his belly, watching the canister of spray swing closer. The floor was hard but the cold felt good. He took a deep breath and prepared to make his move.

As if Fox knew what he'd been thinking, he walked around him in a wide circle and approached from behind before cuffing him. He pulled Boba to his feet, gentler than he expected. "You're being given a second chance, kid," he said quietly. "Don't kark it up."

"The fuck does that mean?" Boba asked faintly; even with Fox's careful grip, he wasn't able to draw in air properly with the way his ribs were screaming.

"You're getting out."

"What?" Boba tried to spin around and look at Fox, but he kept a firm hold of his cuffed hands and kept him from turning.

"Walk, squirt," Fox said in a bored voice.

Where was he going? Where were they sending him? It hit him then, what had to have happened; Aurra. He knew she wouldn't abandon him. She'd had to make a tactical retreat, that was all. Somehow she'd pulled in a favor or used her connections in the guild, or maybe even kidnapped a judge. He fought down a smirk as they walked past the other inmates, all howling and hissing and complaining about his special treatment.

He was foolish to have given up on Aurra. She really did care about him.

"Stand here." Fox started undoing the locks to the hall that led to the private interview rooms, the ones that prisoners used to meet with their attorneys.

Boba never had an attorney. He had gone through sentencing on his own.

"Alright, walk." Fox took him by the cuffs and shoved him forward through the door. "And be respectful."

"Respectful to who?" Boba grouched.

"Your new mum," Fox snickered, stopping in front of a door halfway down the hall. "Congratulations. You've been adopted."

Boba whipped his head up so fast that black spots appeared in his eyes. "I've been fucking what?" he squeaked.

Fox pushed him inside of the interview room while he was still reeling. Instead of Aurra, the two Jedi who had arrested him were waiting inside; a Kel Dor who towered over everyone, even Fox, and a scrawny orange Togruta with big blue bug eyes and two sabers on her belt. She was taller than he remembered.

"Koh-to-yah, Boba Fett," the Kel Dor said, bowing to him. "I am Jedi Master Plo Koon, and this is Padawan Ahsoka Tano."

"The fuck do you cunts want?" Boba spat, furious at himself for being so stupid that he thought Aurra would come for him. He was such a gullible di'kut. Of course she didn't really care. He was never anything but clout to her, just something of Jango's that she could show off.

The Tog blinked at him, obviously shocked. The little princess obviously wasn't used to bad language. "I, um, I…"

"Go ahead, Ahsoka," the Kel Dor said with a little pat on her back.

She took a deep breath, stepped forward, and then smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. He felt the tension in his back muscles ease a little, weirdly enough. "I want to get you out of here, if that's alright with you."

"Why the fuck should I go anywhere with you?" Boba asked suspiciously, then backed up so he could keep the both of them in plain view. "You're the cunts who put me in here. Why do you care?"

"We never meant for you to be placed in a place such as this, young man," the Kel Dor said apologetically.

"We want to help you find your family, Boba," the Tog said earnestly.

"Are you both fucking stupid?" Boba snapped. "I don't have any family. The Jedi killed the only family I had."

The Tog and Kel Dor exchanged looks. "I know, Boba," the Tog said. "And I'm sorry for your loss."

Boba looked at his feet.

"Why don't we be on our way?" the Kel Dor suggested. "We have much to discuss, but there's no need to do so on an empty stomach. I find myself craving a milkshake."

"Oooh, I could go for a milkshake," the Tog said with her brow markings raised. "How about you, Boba?"

"I don't want a fucking milkshake, I want to know what's going on!" Boba said, backing up into Fox. He… he needed to get away from these people. They had some sort of weird plan for him, he was sure of it. What if they wanted to send him back to Kamino? Maybe they wanted to string him up in a lab and use him to make more of their precious troopers. Without Dad the longnecks couldn't make them like they used to, and Boba was a perfect copy. "What did Fox mean? He said I was going to meet my new mum, what did he mean by that?"

The Tog bit her lip and looked at him. "That, um, that would be me," she said sheepishly. "I… I'm your legal guardian."

"You're my legal guardian?" Boba stared at her. She looked barely older than him, though she was a lot taller than he remembered.

"Yep," she said happily, rocking back on her heels. "So, what do you say? Ready to go?"

Boba glanced up at Fox, who gave him a reassuring nod. "Not like I have a fucking choice, do I?" he asked sullenly.

"No, you don't," the Kel Dor – Koon, Boba remembered he said his name was – said gently. "But I imagine that you would choose to leave the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center."

"Obviously," Boba said, frowning.

"So." Koon shrugged. "Shall we?"

The Tog smiled brightly at him. He realized that she was nervous, and for some reason that made him feel better.

"Fine." Boba rubbed his wrists after Fox unlocked his cuffs. Whatever. Fox didn't need to help him, he could do this on his own. He just had to stick with them long enough to get out of prison. The second the idiots turned their backs, he'd be out of there. Boba glanced up and met the Tog's nervous gaze. "But I'm not calling you fucking Mum."

Author's Notes:

MAOR-GRÁSTA TRANSLATIONS An deach thu às mo chiall?: Have you gone insane? Carson a tha thu a’ toirt eas-urram dhomh?: Why are you disrespecting me? MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS cyar'solus: beloved one, the clones' nickname for Boba since he was a special snowflake chosen baby (Thank you Squid_Ink 😘) shabuir: motherfucker vod'kyramud: brother-killer osik: shit OTHER NOTES Mace has a picture of all of his padawans and grand-padawans in his wallet and he shows everyone constantly. It's canon, George Lucas actually told me himself. Palpatine was pretty easy to convince, wasn't he? It's almost like he likes sowing discord between Anakin and his loved ones hmm odd yes very odd indeed Ponds was promoted for plot related purposes ✌️

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork @soliloquy-of-nemo Dividers: @saradika-graphics

[sonorousabyss]

Sup! I was wondering if I could request a Star Wars matchup :]

Alrighty so, I’m a 5’5 Biromantic (masc leaning) asexual guy. I have medium long black and purple hair with raccoon tails. I’m really into punk and metal culture, and I love picking up scrap and making it into clothes and accessories. I’m also autistic and I have adhd, so I differ a lot between how social and talkative I am. I play guitar, play board games, sew and draw in my spare time

Have a good day 🫶

A/N: Sorry this took so long Anon, I just couldn't decide how I wanted to do the banner for this one! I hope that this is to your tastes!

I am thoroughly convinced that you both would get along disturbingly well.

Your style and your unique hobbies are certainly what drew him to you. It isn't often that you encounter someone with long black and purple hair- let alone with that and raccoon tails. And turning scrap into accessories? Well, that was just icing on the cake.

Don't get me wrong- Anakin has been around the likes of Padme during her queen and senator days, so he's no stranger to unique and unorthodox hairdos, but the color and length certainly intrigued him, forgoing the style.

Given how frequently he's out in the field? Unless you went out on missions with him regularly, your initial interactions with him would have been once every blue moon or so. Of course, this meant that there were some occasions where he attempted to hang with you on your less social days- something I don't imagine going too well.

The differences in how social you were may have bewildered him at first, but it's more than likely if you didn't tell him about your social battery? Kenobi, Ahsoka, or Rex would have caught on to some degree and let him know that it probably wasn't because he'd done something wrong.

Even though it's known to be against regulations to nab keepsakes from the battlefield (or at the very least it is for clones), I get the feeling he's made a habit of grabbing you scrap metal from the battlefield on missions where he's had time.

More often than not this metal consists of severed droid parts that almost certainly have lightsaber cuts and blaster residue all over them, but hey- it's the thought that counts right?

He'd keep his eye out the following days, weeks, etc. after giving you one of his unique "gifts" to see if he could spot something you may have crafted it into.

He and the 501st make a game of guessing what you might turn his scrap into, and they absolutely keep score of who's gotten it right the most times.

As you got closer and your relationship developed further he 100% would step up his game in the scrap department. And by that I mean he somehow finds stranger and stranger shit to bring back for you.

A motivator, the head of a B1, droid fingers, paneling from destroyed droid carriers- hell, even random pieces of downed starships. His goal is to make sure you never know what he's gonna bring back next, if only so he can see the delighted (or perplexed) look you'll end up giving him as a result.

Of course, if you needed something specific and let him know about it, he'd see to it that he gets it if possible.

It's also a game between his padawan, himself, and the clones to see who can get the desired part first. Because what's a good battle without some friendly competition amirite?

On quiet days while you don't feel like talking so much, he'll hang out with you and listen to your favorite music with you. Furthermore, if you want to show him any drawings or clothes you've made, or even play him a song on your guitar he's absolutely game. Most of the time neither of you will even have to talk, just bask in each other's presence.

On days where you feel more like listening than talking, he'll tell elaborate tales of his self-proclaimed "best moments" on the battlefield and catch you up on what he's been doing while you've been separated. He's also got a stash of amusing tales at Obi-wan, Ahsoka, and the 501st's expense to cheer you up whenever you're feeling down.

Somehow he always finds a way to boost his own ego in the process, but something tells me that you're more than enough to keep Anakin balanced in that regard.

If you make him something you bet he's bragging to his padawan and his men that his significant other made a gift specifically for him and no one else.

Anakin is 100% guilty of messing up your hair or lifting things just out of reach to tease you as you are shorter than him, but he's made up for it in some regards by fetching things for you as well. Namely stuff way too high for you to get without putting yourself in a precarious position.

Talk to him about anything you're interested in and he's over the moon- even if he doesn't quite understand it. You trust him enough to share it with him and that makes it all the more precious.

Anything too out of pocket and you might catch him and Kenobi having a hushed conversation just out of earshot where he's checking with his master to see if he at least knows what you're talking about.

If you call him out on this he'll deny it, and if you catch him in the act he'll try to play it off... and fail spectacularly. Meanwhile, Obi-wan is watching him trip over himself in amusement as he tries to find a half-truth you'll buy to spare him the embarrassment.

He sticks to holovids after that. Can't trust his jedi master as far as he can throw him, apparently.

Ahsoka teases him relentlessly over this.

Anakin doesn't really seem the type to get bent out of shape over anyone being asexual, adhd, or autistic. He's a really chill guy, and to be honest he just takes it all in stride and embraces it as much as physically possible. You're his boyfriend after all, why wouldn't he?

Learns about any and/or all of the above to figure out how to better support you and makes sure your boundaries are laid out and respected.

If you want a funny sight to commit to memory? Have him help you with your hair maintenance. He'd somehow find a way to make dying, bleaching, trimming it, etc. absolutely hilarious. Just him in the bathroom with you on a chair in front of a mirror, desperately trying to figure out what toner is, why certain hair products can and cannot be used shortly after dying, etc. It's fucking brilliant.

He's absolutely tried to con you into dying at least a strand of your hair blue to match him and his squad at least once.

....Okay. More than once. But can you blame him? That'd be bloody adorable.

Just don't dye it orange in response to mess with him, he might cry.

AN: Ah yes, the image of Anakin fumbling with hair dye will forever be ingrained in my brain. For those who got this far, I hope you enjoyed! May the force be with you, and may your day be as pleasant as the ocean's abyss is deep! For those who are new here, I take requests. You can find my rules here.

[depressed-sock]

A Glitch for you, A Glitch for me (3811 words) by depressed-sock Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Original Droid Characters (Star Wars), Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Crack, Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, B1 droid makes friends with clone troopers, accidentally becomes adopted, Mention of torture, Enemies to Friends, it/its pronouns ...

B1-6610 knows it’s got a glitch in it’s system. It’s why B1-6610 has plans. Plans to find a nice abandoned moon or planet with nothing else on it so B1-6610 can live its short life without dying to blaster fire. Or being stabbed. Or crushed. Or worse. Don’t ask how it can get worse it’s seen worse. It doesn’t like worse.

But anyway it has a glitch. Which can be the only explanation as to why it’s so fascinated by the clones that are being held prisoner in the base that B1-6610 is stationed at. It knows it shouldn’t but it stops by at least once every few hours just to walk by their cell.

They’re so different then what they look like covered in armor. All of them have that same squishy organic face but unlike the droids, there are actual differences. There’s one that has short curly hair a shade of vivid green with hair growing on its face. Then another that has no hair at all and instead has some kind of floral marking covering the right side of its face. The other three aren’t as varied but one’s hair is a darker shade than the others, while another has a shade of eye color that’s more orange than the dark brown that the rest have.

They’re all so different then what B1-6610 expected. It’s not sure why exactly it had thought they would be like it and the other B1 droids. Exact copies whose only difference is the nicks they’ve gotten in battle.

But they are.

And it wants so badly to just ask about it.

It has a plan for that too because if it’s going to be leaving anyway it might as well satisfy its curiosity, right? It’s not like B1-6610 will ever get a chance like this again because wherever B1-6610 is going it’s going to be void of organics.

So B1-6610 knows that the prisoners haven’t been fed in the last few days. Apparently, it’s some kind of interrogation technique because organics need to eat. And since B1-6610 is leaving and planning to escape in the next few days that means it can get away with things like giving the prisoners food. Maybe slip in a question or two while doing that.

It won’t even be suspicious because B1-6610 hacked into the cameras. No one will ever know what it’s done except for the prisoners! And who's going to believe them when they say a driod disobeyed its direct orders? No one! Because only a glitched and broken droid would do that and to everyone else’s knowledge there’s no such droid here!

B1-6610 is amazingly smart and nothing will ever go wrong with this plan.

…

When it arrives at the cell at the same time it’s arrived every day since the clones got here none of them look at it. Going about their hushed conversation which is mostly just scathing remarks about the droids and Separatists holding them captive. B1-6610 can’t really blame them for that, it would also be in a bad mood too if it was forced to stay in one tiny room all the time. (Yes it knows it can compact into a much smaller size, but that doesn’t mean B1-6610 enjoys it.)

It stands at the door, holding a tray of food. Part of its processor says it should have looked up how much organics actually need to eat but it’d been worried about getting caught in the cafeteria. It’s at least pretty sure that the clones can eat it because B1-6610 saw a human eating it. Making strange faces as they ate it but they didn’t keel over and die so B1-6610 thinks it’ll be fine.

There is one part of this plan that it realizes it didn’t think through. How to get the food to the clones without them trying to storm the door and breaking B1-6610. Because if this had been a normal food delivery there would have been other droids. Maybe even some B2 units to ensure no one tries to make any attempt at escape.

But B1-6610 is alone. Standing on the other side of the shield door thing…(Listen it wasn’t programmed to remember words it was programmed to shoot things don’t judge it.)

The clone with the marking looks up at B1-6610 as if it can sense B1-6610 just standing there. Hovering. The clone glares at it in that special way only organics can do.

“Uhh… Food?” It says as it fails to come up with a coherent sentence. Goodjob B1-6610! You sound like a complete doormat that they’ll all be to happy to walk over. Maybe it can just bluff them. “Step away from the door or the turrets will activate and shoot you.” They won’t. They short-circuited once and no one had bothered to fix them.

The clones murmur to each other backing up against the back wall. The one with the face marking crossing its arms, lips tilted up to make it look mean like one of those animals that wander just outside the base. The others raise their hands in a show of surrender, even though they look just as mean as the one with the face marking.

B1-6610 opens the shield door, quickly puts the tray inside, then retreats back and turns the shield back on. The clones look at the food but make no moves towards it as B1-6610 stands there staring at them.

It doesn’t really understand why they aren’t trying to eat. Organics need food and they haven’t had food in days, so their organic systems have to be telling them they need it. That’s how it works right?

Instead, they all just stare equally at B1-6610 and the food. B1-6610 wonders if maybe it’s lost the chance to ask any questions before it decides it might as well just try. It shifts, awkwardly (because according to some of the organics on base, all B1’s do this even if the B1’s don’t really understand what that means or how they’re doing it).

“Why do you have markings and the others don’t?”

The clone with markings furrows its brows while the others shoot their own confused looks toward the clone with markings. “You mean my tattoo?” It asks slowly.

“Ohhh, is that what a tattoo looks like?” It has no clue what a tattoo is and how or why organics would have them.

“It’s what my tattoo looks like.” It raises an eyebrow at B1-6610. B1-6610 forgets what that means on organics but it kinda feels like the clone thinks B1-6610 is stupid.

Which it isn’t because it plan worked! Take that clone you have no idea that B1-6610 succeded.

“Ok…Bye.” It turns and marches back down the hall. And if it starts humming happily, no one has to know the happy tune is coming from it.

…

B1-6610 arrives back a few hours later to pick up the tray and make sure no one else knows the clones got food from it. Afterall, there’s still a few days to go before it escapes, no need to make anyone suspicious.

So it arrives back at the door. The clones are still on the far side of the room but this time they’re huddled together. The food tray is still by the door and is completely untouched.

B1-6610 stares at the tray in confusion. “You didn’t eat?” It asks with a high-pitched question, not understanding why they wouldn’t. Their bodies need it right? They are organic right? Or are they really like B1-6610 and need a charging port instead?

B1-6610 is so confused.

The clone with green hair snorts, “We’re not interested in your poison Clanker.”

“But it’s not poison?” It tilts its head still not getting it. That one human from the cafeteria still hasn’t keeled over and died so it’s definitely something the clones can eat. If they eat. It swears it’s seen them eat when it had spied on their camps before. “It’s food. You eat food right?”

The clones give it an annoyed look and B1-6610 figures that this part of its plan has somehow failed. How’s it supposed to ask questions if it doesn’t have a reason to be here?

It groans in complaint, turns off the shields, and grabs the tray. B1-6610 will have to figure out something else. It turns and is about to take the tray out when its sensors pick up more B1’s and an organic lifesign making its way towards the cells. B1-6610 doesn’t exactly run but it exits in a hurry slams the shields back on and makes a hasty retreat around the corner where it ditches the tray in a potted plant.

No one will ever notice. It’s not like anyone but droids roam these floors anyway.

B1-6610 doesn’t hide, can’t really when the others can also tell it’s there. But it pretends to continue its rounds as it listens to the echoing voice as Organic General Whatshisface addresses the clones.

“Are you ready yet to give us the answers we need? Or should a few more days without food be enough to convince you?” The Organic General Whatshisface asks and B1-6610 can feel the building dread in its circuits. Uh oh.

There’s a moment of silence and B1-6610 gives in to the urge to hack into the camera just to see what’s going on.

The clones are looking at him with confusion before the one with markings scowls. “You’ll get nothing from us Separatists scum.”

The General sneers, “Maybe I’ll just take one of you to torture. For fun, of course, just so I can bring his dead body back for you to watch decay.”

The clones tense, Green hair and Markings stepping in front of the other three. Who B1-6610 guesses must be newer models. It’s something B1-6610 has observed in other clones. Though it doesn’t get why, aren’t the newer models supposed to be better than the older ones? Honestly trying to figure out organics and clones in general is turning out to be an exhausting endeavor.

“You know what? I think I will-”

B1-6610 enters the hall just as it sets off a remote perimeter alarm it had hacked about a week ago. Just because it could. “General! We’re picking up possible hostiles in the left quadrant!”

General Whatshisface sneers at B1-6610 then turns it on the clones, “We’ll have to continue this later.” He turns on his heel, most of the other B1’s following behind. B1-8893 stays behind and stares at B1-6610 until the General is out of hearing range.

B1-8893 sighs, “6610 why are you wandering again? You’re supposed to be on level three.” It shakes its head and pats B1-6610’s shoulder, “Is your memory unit glitching again? We can go ask Engineer Teili to take another look at it.”

“My memory unit is fine,” B1-6610 says in a complaining whine. “I’m not some old droid falling apart 8893.”

“Sure you’re not,” it pushes B1-6610 towards the hall leading to the stairs. Then slowly says, “Remember. Go. To. Level. Three. And. Patrol-”

B1-6610 smacks B1-8893’s head. “I know.”

Then it marches past the cell ignoring the clones staring out at it.

…

“…Oleander you’ve got the same number as a clanker.”

“Keep talking Verdant and I’ll make you regret even breathing the same air as me.”

…

It comes back the next day at the same time as before. This time though will be different because B1-6610 did some research! Turns out the clones do need food, but apparently most organics captured by an enemy force can become paranoid about eating anything given to them. Because people can poison the food. Which seems like a waste but who’s B1-6610 to question its superiors.

So a tray of food like the one B1-6610 was a no-go but a bunch of sealed ration bars should work fine! B1-6610 even got the supposedly good ones, though it has never seen a happy organic eat a ration bar. It’s still food! And it’s edible! And it would be hard to poison so B1-6610 can say with certainty that it is definitely not poisoned!

Also it came out of the mess hall rations so if it is poisoned they’ve all got bigger problems than the glitchy droid feeding the prisoners.

B1-6610 approaches the door and the clones all look back at with confusion.

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be down here clanker.” Markings scowls, eyeing the rations that B1-6610 is carrying. It had just grabbed an armful not caring how much it had just stolen, it may have gone a bit overboard.

“That was a differnt B1 unit?” It tries to lie but it comes out as more of a question. It was not built for this. The clones can tell because none of them seem impressed by B1-6610’s lies. “Please just step back from the door…”

They do. This time none of them hold up their hands and maybe that’s a bad sign but they let B1-6610 dump the rations on the floor and exit without trying anything. The shield hums back to life as Markings steps forward, picks up a ration bar, and examines the packaging.

“Why are you doing this?” Markings asks with narrowed eyes that makes B1-6610 shift in place.

“Uh… Orders?” It lies again before quickly asking, “Why is that one’s hair green?”

That startles a laugh out of Green. “Because I dyed it?”

Oh. That actually makes sense. A lot more than B1-6610’s original theory that the clone was a weird variant of some sort. Doesn’t explain why it would choose green out of all the other colors out there. “Why green though?”

The plain-looking clone starts to laugh but ends up coughing into its fist instead, while Orange eyes doesn’t bother to hide its own. It slaps Green’s shoulder and says, “Even the clanker thinks it’s too much.”

Green makes some kind of face that must mean its displeased. “I like it.” B1-6610 doesn’t get it, but it guesses maybe it just wasn’t built to understand those kinds of things. Green glares back at B1-6610. “What would you have done then?”

“I don’t have hair?” It can’t dye what it doesn’t have after all.

Dark hair rolls its eyes and adds, “But you could add paint to your chassis right?”

“No? That’s against regulations?” And it’s programming but B1-6610’s programing doesn’t work right so it could totally get away with that if it didn’t have a bunch of others watching it. Maybe when it gets to that nice moon.

The clones all frown at it.

Green sits down on a bunk holding a hand out for Markings to set the ration bar in.”Ok. But if you could what would you pick?”

“Uhhh.. I don’t know?” B1-6610 let’s it’s processors spin a bit coming up with a bunch of different colors before narrowing those down to one. “I kinda like pink.” No one in the war uses pink. Not the clones and not the droids. Maybe some Jedi does but B1-6610 has never seen them.

It’s a safe color. No war tied to it. B1-6610 likes that about it.

The clones are all still staring at it and B1-6610 needs to leave before someone catches it down here again. “Uhh, make sure to hide the rations. Not because you’re not supposed to have them! But because uhhh... You just should. Yep just do that, I can’t come back today to clean up so you have too….Bye.” It turns and marches off.

…

“I want to adopt it.”

“Silver.”

“Oleander, we have too now. It keeps coming back specifically because it wants to ask us stupid questions. It’s law now that we have to adopt it. I don’t make the rules.”

“It doesn’t even like the color green.”

“Verdant you literally glow in the dark with that green it has a right to hate it as much as we do.”

“Oh fuck all of you.”

…

B1-6610 doesn’t return to the cell until a day before it’s planned escape. One last chance to ask whatever questions it wants without getting caught. It’s got more rations with it, though it’s not sure if the clones have eaten all the ones B1-6610 had given them before.

It doesn’t think they would have. It had seen something about hoarding food and cutting rations in its research into what organics and clones could eat. So they’ll save most of it to last until… well until General Whatshisface kills them.

That realization doesn’t exactly make B1-6610 sad but it can’t help but be maybe a little disappointed. The clones could have easily just ignored B1-6610 or even just said nasty things to it the entire time. Instead, they answered its questions, even though they were very confused by the questions.

So when B1-6610 gets to the door it expects to see all the clones. Except one is missing.

“Where’s the plain one?” It asks confused and the Clones don’t glare at it this time. They just look sad and exhausted. Oh…Oh no. “Where’s the plain one?!” It asks again but this time with more panic.

Markings winces, voice rough as it answers with a single word, “Gone.”

“Gone like they shot it or gone like they dragged it off?!”

“Gone like he got taken for torture.” Green answers, putting emphasis on the he.

B1-6610 didn’t realize they used organic pronouns… That’s something it’ll have to worry about later because the plain clone is going to die.

It’s supposed to escape tomorrow. It’s going to escape tomorrow. That won’t happen though if the clones escape now and put the base on red alert. But if the clones don’t escape… Oh no, no no no. It needs more time to figure out what to do.

It doesn’t have time to figure out what to do.

It drops the rations in front of the door. Hits the shield off and says, “Oh no… The uh door failed… and now there’s a way for the clones to leave… by going down this hall where no one is stationed… and escape through the door that no one watches…They should definitely not wait there until the plain clone gets there…Ok…Bye.” It turns and marches off and ignores the astonished stares.

It can’t worry about them right now because it needs to go find the plain clone before General Whatshisface kills him. It knows where the torture room is, even though B1-6610 has never gone there. It doesn’t like how gross it is because no one really bothers to clean the room. Which is completely disgusting. Do the organics not realize how gross that is?

Anyway it’s easy for B1-6610 to get there, all it had to do was follow the screams. Which isn’t helping B1-6610’s overheating processor.

It walks into the room and luckily it’s only the general and the plain clone. Who no longer looks plain and now looks very bloody. “Sir!” B1-6610 does not flinch when the General turns to look at it. Displearue clear on his face.

“What is it droid?”

“uhhh… There’s something you need to see immediately sir!”

The General scowls but B1-6610 stays insistent that something happened that requires the General’s attention. He clearly doesn’t want to leave. The clone is barely conscious and B1-6610 is starting to worry about that.

Then B1-6610 says the magic words, “Count Dooku wants to have a meeting with you sir.” That perks the General up.

“Well, what are you waiting for you filthy rustbucket, lead the way.” So B1-6610 faithfully leads the General to a room (that’s actually a closet) and pretends to trip. And, of so unfortunately, bumps the General into said closet and, so much worse, the door closes and locks. And oh look at that! All communications in this area have been blocked! How unfortunate that this has happened don’t worry General this B1 unit will get help.

The cursing and screaming from the closet actually makes this all worth it. It doesn’t matter if B1-6610 can’t escape tomorrow because it just locked General Whatshisface in a closet and nothing will ever be better than that. Except maybe plain clone not dying. It would very much like plain clone not to die in front of it.

B1-6610 gets back to the interrogation room, unlocking the straps holding the clone down. The clone sags forwards and B1-6610 almost topples over with him. “Why are you so heavy?” it complains which gets a huffed laugh in response.

Plain clone looks up at it, eyes not really focusing and B1-6610 hopes that’s not a bad sign. “You’re the droid from before? 6610?”

“Uh.. yeah?” it says in surprise. It hadn’t expected the clones to even remember it’s number.

“Oleander’s got the same number as you,” comes a dazed reply to a question B1-6610 hadn’t voiced.

“Which one’s that?”

“He’s got the big fucking tattoo on his face.”

“Ohhh, that one!” B1-6610 didn’t even know clones had names! It’s learning so much before it dies horribly! “Well, we need to go meet them so you can escape and not die here.”

“Ok.”

B1-6610 starts to drag the plain clone out into the hall. “Uhhh do you have a name too?”

“Dice. My twin is Slice.”

“Is that the clone with darker hair?”

Dice startles a little but keeps pushing forward with B1-6610 to help. “Yeah, no one else usually notices that their hair is darker.”

“Oh… I thought it was kind of obvious.” B1-6610 thinks it is in fact obvious but maybe they’ve got people on the Republic’s side who are like General Whatshisface. Who can’t tell any of the droids apart either. “Come on, were maybe almost there.”

“Maybe almost?” Dice chokes.

“I didn’t come with an in-built map of this place so I’m kinda just walking and hoping I’m right.”

Dice laughs again leaning a bit more on B1-6610 before muttering to himself, “Silver’s never letting you go.”

“What was that?”

“Oh nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

B1-6610 decides that it should very much worry about it.

…

B1-6610 sits in a stolen Separatist ship. It is in fact the one it had planned to steal tomorrow when its software got updated to include a piloting module. It doesn’t need that anymore because apparently, Green is a great flier. They were even able to leave before any alarms could sound in the base.

This is may not be a part of its original plan but everything is going great. Now it just needs to convince the clones to drop it off on the moon it choose and maybe to stop fighting over who’s now B1-6610’s parent.

It can’t have a parent. It’s a droid.

None of them listen to B1-6610’s arguments.

It has a sinking feeling it’s never going to see that moon.

…

B1-6610 does at least have a new coat of paint.

[hellhound5925]

Cyare Verd *Beloved Warrior*

Chapter Nineteen

As we start down the tunnel, that bad feeling I had before comes creeping back. I draw both of my blasters. "Everything alright Commander?" Asks Echo. This causes Rex to glance over at me, as I'm slightly behind him. "I'm not sure yet....I've got a bad feeling about this though" I say. "Let's keep moving and stay alert" Rex commands. "Yes sir" Echo says and we continue.

Thankfully I can see the end of the tunnel and there doesn't appear to be any disposal droids. "Pare (Wait one), does it seem weird to anyone that there wasn't a single disposal droid?" Asks Fives. "No you're right something seems off" I agree with him. "Maybe they took a day off" Hardcase jokes. "I doubt we are that lucky" says Dogma. Rex and I look around. I use my scanner to see if I can pick up any movement....nothing.

"Either way we still have to get rid of this base. Let's keep moving" I command and Rex nods in agreement. "Alright here's where we part ways. Keep your comms open....I don't like the look of things" Rex says. "Copy that", "Sir yes sir", "yes sir" the squad says.

I holster my blasters and my group steps off to the side to let Rex and his group go first. As Rex goes to move away and something in me causes me to involuntarily grab his arm. "K'oyacyi (stay alive/stay safe)" I say staring him down through my visor, hoping he gets how deeply I mean that. "You can't get rid of me that easily" he says before heading out. I let my arm fall back down to my side.

I turn to my group "Alright boys" I say pulling up the holomap again. "Between each of us we've got 8 thermal detonators that need to be placed. I really think we should try to stick together as much as possible. However, in the event we need to split up.....Hardcase you're with me. Echo and Kix you're together. Understood?" "Sir, yes sir" they say in unison. "Good, now let's get to the first plant site".

We head down the long hall ways and pass through a few sets of blast doors. I hear the clicking of B1 battle droids as they move through the hall a head. I swap hands with my blaster and hold up my hand to give the ‘hold up’ gesture. The three stop behind me “what is it?” Asks Kix. Echo crosses the hall and peeks around the corner “clankers. I’ve got 4 of ‘em” he says. “Lets take them out…quietly” I holster both my blaster and eject my vibro blade from my vambrace to make sure it’s working. “We can wait until they pass by us, then sneak up behind them” suggests Echo. “Sounds good, give us the signal” I say, letting him take charge. He is an ARC Trooper after all and one day could be a Captain. The doids pass and Echo gives us a nod. Together we sneak up on the droids. I grab mine by the shoulder pulling it back into my blade, cutting through its power core. I drag it off to the side while the others do the same. “There should be a storage room just up a head we can stash them in” Says Hardcase. “Good work” I praise him.

After stashing the droids we head make it to our first site. I nod at Hardcase who plants the first thermal det while the rest of us watch his back. “Done” he says after a minute. “Alright in about 30 meters is the next one, We’ve gotta get these right on target if we want this place to come down” I tell them. “Lets move”. After we plant the second thermal det I comm Rex. “Captain Rex, this is Commander Skirata, din’kartay (sitrep)”, “Commander Skirata this is Captain Rex. We are still searching. How are things on your end?”, “Good, first and second charges are set. Moving on to the next”, “Glad to hear. Keep me updated”, “Copy that. You as well”.

Planting the rest of the diets goes pretty well, other than the occasional droid that had to be taken out. Rex and his group had found the command center but were having a difficult time shutting it down. We decided to meet up with them. “Rex it’s me, we are on our way to you”, “Uh good thing because it looks like we’ve got company”, “Osik (shit), How’d they know we were here?!” I practically yell into my comm. “Not sure but we’ve gotta hurry”. We race through the halls and when we turn the corner to where the command center is we are met with a squad of commando droids. “Haar’chak! (Damn it!)” Hardcase says under his breath. “We need to lead them away from the command center” I say coming up with a plan. “What do you have in mind?” Asks Echo. Before anyone can say anything else I jump out from the hall we took cover in. “Hey you! Stupid chakaar come get me!!” I yell causing them to turn and give chase. “What is she doing!?” Must be Rex can see what’s happening through the window. I race through the halls with blaster fire wizzing just past me. “I’m fine! Beskar will hold up. Just finish the job and lets go” I say between breaths. I drawn my blasters and turn to shoot at the droids. “Osik…this isn’t even slowing them down” I say to myself. “Echo, can yo track my movement through the base and find a way to cut them off? It’s going to take a few shots to get through their armor”. I can hear them growing closer - these chakaar are fast! “Copy that, stand by” I hear Echo.

Before I know it, something has grabbed me by the leg and I’m falling face first to the ground. I kick at the droid with my free leg and it lets go long enough for me to roll over and activate my flame thrower. The droid didn’t even seem to be phased at first but it must have melted something important because suddenly it stopped moving and fell to the floor. Another droid was on top of me in a moment. “Guys….I could really use some help here!” I yell into my comms. I’m able to free an arm and grab the droid by the neck which perfectly lines up my vibro blade. I eject it and the head comes off, causing the droid to shut down. One of the droids grabs me by both arms, halls me up from the floor. While the other has a blaster in my face. “Pare, Pare! (Wait, wait) Can’t we talk about this?” I ask jokingly. The droids look at one another. The one with the blaster looks back down at me and cocks it’s head. “What is there to talk about?” The mechanical voice says. I see shadows moving behind the droid “Get down if you can” I hear a whisper in my comms. “We could talk about your surrender” I say before kicking the blaster out of the hands of the droid, throwing the one holding me off balance. I take the droid to the ground with me and there’s familiar blue blaster bolts fling over head. Both droids are now on top of me but disabled. “Commander come in….Commander!” I hear yelling in my comms. I manage to get one hand between the droids and give them a thumbs up “Yeah I’m good”. I slide out from under both droids and stand up. Kix runs over and gives me a once over. “Vor’e (thanks) you saved my sheb (ass)” I laugh.

Anakin’s voice comes through my comm “Raven, Rex, come in…We’ve got a problem” he sounds worried. “Raven here what’s going on?” I ask. “The droids are heading back your way. Whatever you are going to do you might want to do it now”, “We are still trying to shut down the droids! Echo get in here and help us.” Rex commands. “Yes, sir. On our way” Echo replies. We rush down the hall and Rex lets us in the command center. “General Skywalker, How much time do you think we’ve got?” Rex asks. “Uhh not long. 5 minutes?” Comes his reply.

Echo is trying to get past their security but I can tell by his breathing he’s getting frustrated. “Alright forget this, we need to get out of here…. If the droids get close enough, they should go up with the rest of the base” I tell Rex. “That’s playing it a little close” he says and I shrug “I’m not seeing many other options here. I won’t wait for us all to die”. “General Skywalker, new plan. We are going to let the droids in and blow the place” Rex explains. “Do whatever you have to just get everyone out” he says back. “Copy that sir” Rex then turns to the squad “Alright you hear me, we pack up and move out. We will have to hope the explosion takes them out”. “Sir, yes sir” we all say in unison. “Raven you take the squad and head for the tunnels, I’ll make sure everyone gets out” Rex says to me. I nod and motion for the men to follow.

Just as we get to the end of the tunnel there’s a battalion of dorids waiting for us “hands up, drop your blasters”. “Uh, Rex. We’ve got trouble out here”, “Right behind you, hang on” he says. There’s too many to take on ourselves. The last few members of our squad including Rex come out of the tunnel. “Echo blow it” Rex commands. “Sir?”, “You hear me. Blow it”, “but we are too close”. I see where Rex is going with this “Echo blow it now! We can’t take all them out ourselves”. “Copy that-“, he is barely able to finish his sentence before there’s a series of explosions. The blast from the tunnel, throws us. That last thing I remember is the ringing in my ears before everything went

Masterlist

[spotsupstuff]

It is okay that i imagined Red Son as a Stormtrooper? Like he's been snatched from some royal family in some planet and maybe meet Mk who a Jedi or maybe still apprentice? Or maybe The Bull family is part of The Republic and Red Son as the prince meet Mk like Anakin and Padme? But then Mk will fall to the dark side-- Lol

Anyway, i like your fanart about Lmk and Star Wars crossover! Never thougt i will see the day of one of my favorite crossover!

HMMMmmm.... -taps chin-

from what i remember me n grollow didnt make the star wars lmk au very faithful to the lmk plot. fuck, i think i missworded smth somewhere actually cuz this kush shouldve worked only as a crossover, as uve said, but crossover means that the lmk chars r there, in star wars designs, along with the og star wars characters. like theyre there as sorta an extra while the main happens next to them. 's why WBS is there only as a particularly ruthless bounty hunter- if we Were to follow the plot/make this an actual au, shed totally be the aus Palpy

BUT since we thinkin sw au here, evidently-

this is prequels specifically thing, so Red would rather be on the side of the Separatists over The Republic/Empire so he couldnt be a stormtrooper. most likely he would be somehow related to the production n designing of the B series battle droids. baby boy was prolly the one who chimed in with the B2s n BX droids n then all the other lesser known models like B3s n those funky flyin B1 knock off pigeon fucks, but i dont particularly imagine him as an actual Geonosian (oh shit random idea: Asajj Ventress 🤔🤔🤔🤔)

DBK is count Dooku, PIF is either a secret wife or psrt of the Sep council das close to DBK but still in the dark about The Sith Plot, Bull Clones turn to B battle droids, SWK is Obi-wan cuz blond badass hottie in ur area thing, WBS is Palpy as established, Six Ear is Maul as FUCK n ive literally no fucking clue who the hell could be Padmé aint nobody that politic smart in the lmk cast except possibly SWK or Tang but das just No

n ngl, im honestly viewing both Xiaotian n Xiaojiao sharin Anakins role. theres no dividing of Anis shit between them they just do it all together (frequently bought together.... do not separate them........)

oh yeah n Tang is C-3PO. chef Zhu is R2 cuz the attitude sure checks out

[animcsus]

@red-flight asked:

"why do people always assume we enjoy putting ourselves in harm's way?" ~ Cody for Fives | Accepting

There was a small, involuntary laugh from the ARC, shrug given at the question. "Likely because that's what we're made for, according to the galaxy." It was a moment of peace where they had time to breathe on the field. They could expect hell when the next wave was released, but for now, they could check and see if there was anything they could use for an upper hand among the scrap. Plastoid boot nudged a B1 battle droid's head to the side, trooper moving to yank the head out from the rest of the body with as much force as he could. "But... We're the better option instead of sending civvies. I'd rather get hurt than let someone else take the damage."

He shifted, visors looking back to Cody after a moment. He was there from the start for the Dominoes... some part of him wondered if he had thoughts about before... but he quickly shoved it aside. "Echo wouldn't want people to suffer, either." A sigh left him as he moved to another droid, searching to make sure the strategy droid wasn't somewhere nearby. Mentally, he was already preparing for another wave. It had to come soon. They didn't normally give them time to poke at the scraps left on the field. "Next wave has to be soon, though... They won't send a lot of these scrap heaps next... I'm calling a couple of B2s and a few commando droids."

[darthzero22]

My life for you

Crosshair x Reader 

You thought you had the mission under control, your squad always succeeded, but in war a simple oversight can make the situation worse in an instant. But you were sure of one thing: you would risk your life to keep the man you love safe.

Warning: slight angst

Your squad had split into two groups, you were with Crosshair. He was shooting at the droids from above, who was on the branch of a tall tree, and you were shooting from the ground, using a fallen log as cover.

“Droids to your right, Y/N”

“Got it”

You had everything under control, he informed you by communicator where the droids were coming from so you could shoot easily. You were as a "distraction" team while the others were inside the separatist base getting information. With each shot you fired, the droids seemed less and less, until Crosshair shoots the last droid to appear.

“And that was the last one. This was disappointing. I'm sure the others had more fun than we did” he said.  

“Yeah. Wait… Hey! Isn't it fun to be with me?” you joked with a smile.  

“Do you really want me to answer that question?” he plays along with your joke.

“Ha, ha. You are an idiot” you said to him with affection.

Crosshair laughs a little, you laugh too, and for a minute there was no problem, in fact he was coming down from the tree. Suddenly you see a Rocket battle droid that was behind him and he was so focused in the front area that he couldn’t see his back.

“Crosshair! Behind you!”

Luckily he was able to turn around in time and shoot the droid, but the bad news is that the droid managed to shoot and therefore hit the branch he was on. The branch breaks immediately, causing Crosshair to fall to the ground face down, and as the tree is tall the fall was not exactly a good thing.

“Cross!!”

You were never so fast in your life, so you approached Crosshair quickly and knelt on the ground next to him to check him. He was unconscious, he hit his head on another branch with the fall, and so you move him very carefully and lay him on his back on the ground. You put your ear on his chest, his heartbeat was normal and that relaxes you just a little. You were going to remove his helmet, to check if he was hurt, but the world turned against you and you see two B2 droids accompanied by B1 droids coming out of the vegetation.

“There they are! Shoot them!” a B1 droid said.

You didn't have time to complain, so you grab Crosshair under his arms and carefully pull him behind your cover so that the shots don't reach him.

“Hunter! Hunter, do you copy?!”

“Y/N, what's going on?”

“The droids attacked us by surprise! Crosshair... he's unconscious. And the droids brought reinforcements to our location!”

“Damn it! Hold on, we're on our way!”

“Hurry up! I will not let anything happen to Crosshair!”

You turn off your communicator and prepare your blaster to fire at the droids, but first you look at Crosshair who was lying on the ground with his head resting on a rock. You weren't going to let anything happen to him, you didn't care that there were a lot of droids. You were going to defend that cover.

The droids were more and with your blaster, even though you could fight them, it was not enough. You get behind your cover, you were not nervous, you were determined to defend your location, to defend Crosshair and you manage to see his sniper rifle on the ground. He taught you how to use his rifle, it was the most powerful weapon you had on hand, so you grab it and start shooting at the droids. You weren't him, your shots weren't very accurate, but the rate of fire at least brought the droids down.

A shot from a B2 droid almost hit you, but you were faster and took cover in time. You were breathing shakily, your grip on the rifle was tight, and you look at Crosshair hopeful that he would wake up soon, to see that he was okay. You rest your hand on his chest, the beating of his heart reassuring you at least.

“You are okay, Cross... You are okay... I'm not going to let them get close”

You said that to yourself to calm down, so that your nerves wouldn't get the better of you. You couldn't afford to hold your shots, so the instant you move your hand away from Crosshair, you lean out again and fire his rifle at the droids. You were able to shoot down several droids, among them two B2, but as you were shooting alone you had the feeling that you were not reducing the number of them, but rather you felt that more and more were appearing.

You were so determined to defend your position that a shot managed to hit you in the shoulder, but your armor defended you quite well, so the shot did not manage to touch your body, although the severe pain was obvious. You grit your teeth in pain, but only for a few moments because you shoot again and pretend that the shot you received never happened. Seconds seemed like minutes, it was a horrible feeling, but you weren't going to give up.

“Come on, Hunter! Where are you?!”

“We're getting close! Just hang in there!”

“Are you stupid or what? I'm already doing that!”

You search through your equipment for something useful, and luckily, although you didn't know if it really was, you find a grenade. It was your only option. You sigh and to throw the grenade you had to get out of cover, and that was a bad idea. You get shot again, but now in the arm, and this time you groan and grab your arm as you sit on the ground leaning your back against the trunk. You think that shot did hit your body this time, but you couldn't stop to find out, so you grip the grenade tighter. You get out of cover again and this time you were able to throw the grenade, causing it to land near the droids.

At any moment it was going to explode, which meant it was going to cause a considerable shock wave, so to protect Crosshair from whatever happened, you stand on top of him becoming a human shield. You hear the grenade explode, you feel the ground shake from it, and a lot of earth was lifted, but luckily the cover managed to protect you from the explosion, and you were able to protect Crosshair. You don't hear any more droids, your radar didn't detect any more, so you exhale a good amount of air because you were able to engage them and manage to defend what mattered to you, you didn't mind having been shot because of it.

Maybe because you lost blood, but you start to feel tired and so you lean your back against the log. You didn't want to fall asleep, you wanted to keep watching in case another droid appeared, but everything calmed down when you hear the voices of Hunter, Tech and Wrecker behind cover. In a second you lose consciousness, but not before taking a last look at Crosshair.

From that moment on you don't know how much time passed, it was probably an hour or two. You start to wake up, you were lying on a comfortable surface so you must have been in your room on the ship, and what you also felt was a hand gently stroking your head. You open your eyes, your vision was still a little blurry, but you could see a silhouette, and when you finally recover your vision you see that it was Crosshair. He had a band aid on his right temple because surely the blow had hurt him. A horrible weight from his shoulders disappeared when he saw you awake at last.

“Cross! Are you…?”

He was sitting on a metal box that he used as a chair, which was positioned next to your bed. You couldn't finish speaking because he lowers his hand and strokes your lips with his thumb ever so gently. You relax with that caress, so you decide not to talk for now.

“Hunter told me what happened... He told me that you took on a platoon of droids by yourself”

“Your rifle was actually what helped me. My blaster doesn't have that much firepower” you notice that your arm was bandaged. “Damn... I thought my armor had protected me from the shot”

“You have been shot twice, Y/N... I think your armor did more than protect you”

“I just wanted to...”

“Protect me... I know. Hunter told me that too. You protected me all the time while I was unconscious”

“Yes, that's what I did”

Crosshair clenches the fingers of his hand that was on his knee, and it becomes a fist. You could see that somehow he was furious, but not with you, but with himself and now he was refusing to look at you. Maybe he felt ashamed, felt guilty that you were hurt like this?

“Cross…” you straighten your back. “Are you okay? I was so worried about you”

You take your hand to his temple, where he was hurt, but he grabs your hand.

“I was clumsy, and because of my clumsiness... you’re like this. Tech told me you were practically like a human shield”

“Cross, it wasn't your fault"

“Yes it was!”

“It wasn’t! I just... thought about protecting you. I didn’t think about anything else. I only cared about you”

Crosshair looks at you and you smile at him implying that the worst is over. He had never felt so protected, he never thought he needed protection, but knowing that you were there giving everything to keep him safe, touched his heart. For a moment his breath hitches.

“You…” he rests a hand on your face and begins to gently caress your cheek. “You almost gave your life to save me”

“And I would do it again. I'd give anything for...”

You couldn't finish speaking as he had moved closer to you, sitting on the bed. Crosshair's body simply relaxed, as if a horrible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. In a second he had held you in his arms, in a hug, as if you was the most delicate thing in the world. He didn't want to let you go. You reciprocate the hug, resting your cheek on his shoulder, and close your eyes enjoying that feeling that he only gave you. He had his mouth against your shoulder, obviously against your healthy shoulder.

“I was very worried about you, Cross… and you still didn’t tell me if you are okay”

“I'm fine ... I just hit my head and temple. That's what caused me to lose consciousness”

“It makes me happy to know that you are okay... I want you to know that the beat of your heart relaxed me”

You separate slightly from the hug and look at his chest.

“I rested my hand on your chest so I could feel your heart...” you rest your hand on his chest and look at him. “And that made my nerves not control me” 

Crosshair opens his eyes completely when he heard you say that, no doubt it was a surprise. Then he frowns for another second, blinking a couple of times, and when he relaxes it he looks at you again. His heartbeat began to accelerate and you could feel it.

“If you’re trying to move me or something, well done. You’ve already done it…” he said. 

You notice the wetness on Crosshair's cheeks and, without thinking, when you see a new tear start to fall down his cheek, you gently brushes it away with your fingers. He closes his eyes tightly. You moved a little closer to him, raised your hand and very gently grabbed his chin. Then you slowly brought your face closer to his and you were going to show him that the worst was really over.

“Cross...”

Crosshair finally opens his eyes to look at you and you smile at him. 

“A simple 'thank you' is not enough to show how grateful I am... And I'm horrible at saying thank you" he said. “When I woke up, I didn't see you next to me, I was here on the ship, and the last thing I remembered was that damn droid and you screaming my name. I didn't mind my blow to the head, Tech told me you were here resting from your injuries...and Hunter explained everything else. I came here to watch you and wait for you to wake up”

“That shows me how grateful you are. Gestures are worth a thousand words, Cross"

“I could see your armor. To think that before everything was fine, that we were making fun of how easy the mission was... and then I wake up to find out that everything got worse and that you risked your life to save me...” he runs a hand over one half of his face. “I wasn't prepared”

“I wasn't prepared when I saw you fall...”

You wanted to put some humor in the mood, you didn't like to see Crosshair like this and you remember something that would possibly at least bring a smile to his face, since you knew him.

“But I don't think Hunter told you everything”

Crosshair removes his hand from his face and looks at you with his eyebrow slightly raised.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well... let's just say I insulted Hunter. I called him stupid"

“You did what?” he is a little surprised. “Why?”

“I was a little nervous, I was shooting and he was telling me to hold on, which I was already doing. What he said to me sounded... stupid and I told him so. I think I'm going to be in trouble after this... And I should apologize"

You were right, Crosshair put on a smile, even laughed a little, and that was enough for you.

“Well, you protected me before, so I'll do the same now if he plans to scold you for it" he said. 

“Really? That would be great. Thank you” you smile. 

“No, mesh’la... Thanks to you, for before, for this, for loving me... and for everything"

Now you were the one who was moved. You couldn't stand it any longer, so Crosshair broke the closeness with you and kisses you. You kissed him back, then he rests one hand behind your head, and with the other arm he wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. By this time the pain was gone in both of you.

[purplefangirl42]

Bad Timing (Part 4)

​Series summary: Crosshair meets someone that he has a strong connection to, but the timing is never right. Will he ever get his chance?

Pairing: Crosshair/Jedi! OC (Lena Orim)

Parts: Series Masterlist ~ PREVIOUS ~ NEXT ~

Part 4 Summary: The battle begins

Warnings/Tags: Canon typical violence, Injuries, Blood, Strangulation, Crosshair being Crosshair

A/N: Sorry this took so long! Hopefully the longer chapter will make up for it!

                                    ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖

The speeders jerked to a stop as the avalanche of rocks fell behind them, blocking the end of the valley. Hunter watched as Sparx leaped from his speeder and ran to the wall of stone, his fist pounding on one of the larger boulders.

“Lena!” he shouted, fear and worry lacing his voice.

Hunter activated his comm as he watched Sparx pace back and forth in front of him, looking for an opening in the pile of stone.

“Crosshair, do you see her? Is she alright?”

“I saw her fly off when the bolt hit her, but now I can’t,” he answered. “There’s a bunch of droids heading towards where she likely landed.”

Hunter cursed under his breath and turned his attention back to the anxious ARC trooper.

“We have to go. The Admiral needs medical attention. She wouldn’t want us to delay that to try and rescue her.”

Sparx whirled around to face him, pointing his finger accusingly.

“You’ve only known her for a day,” he shouted. “How could you possibly know that is what she would want?”

“She risked her own life to go in and rescue the two of you,” Hunter said, standing his ground. “Should we undermine that choice by allowing him to get worse or even die?”

Hunter could see that his words had struck a chord when Sparx’s posture relaxed.

“You’re right. We should go,” Sparx said with one final glance to the pile of rocks behind them.

Hunter nodded before heading back to his speeder. Then, switching to the Batch's comm channel, he contacted Crosshair again.

“Cross?”

A moment of silence passed before the sniper answered.

“I’ll get her. Go.”

                                                   ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖

Lena groaned as she rolled over on the ground, pain shooting through her right arm. She wasn’t sure what hurt more, the blaster graze or the impact with the ground. Pushing herself up onto her knees, Lena glanced to her left where the opening to the valley had been. There was now a giant pile of rocks blocking the entrance, having fallen from her grasp when she had been shot.

Concern shot through her, and she reached out in the force, searching for the familiar life signs of Sparx and Admiral Yung. Though his injuries had weakened his signature, she could feel the Admiral’s life force next to one she recognized as Tech’s once she touched it. Searching further, she could feel Sparx, Hunter, and Wrecker as well. Relieved that they were all alive, Lena let out a loud sigh of relief.

Lena placed one of her feet on the ground and pushed herself to a standing position. She hissed in pain as her arm shifted with the movement. The sound of clanking footsteps not far from her position prompted her to turn back in the direction of the Separatist base. She could see the shiny metallic heads of several B1 battle droids heading in her direction. Lena groaned again, this time in annoyance. As she reached for the saber at her belt, a deep robotic voice sounded behind her.

“Put up your hands and surrender, Jedi.”

Lena did as she was told, glancing over her shoulder to see the larger B2 droid standing behind her. She had been so focused on the well-being of the others that she hadn’t even noticed the approaching droids from the opposite direction. She counted the droids surrounding her, trying to think of a plan that would get her out of her current situation, preferably without being shot again. A beeping noise from the comm on her wrist drew her attention away from the droids. Moving as subtly as she could so as not to alert the droids to her movement, Lena pressed the button to acknowledge the message.

“Prepare yourself, Sunshine,” Crosshair’s voice said from her wrist.

“For what?” Lena asked.

As soon as the question left her lips, several droids around her dropped to the ground. A cloud of dust billowed up behind a rapidly approaching speeder bike. Before Lena or the other droids could react, the speeder passed between their ranks. Lena felt a thin armored arm wrap around her waist, yanking her feet off the ground. She let out an undignified squeak as she felt herself hauled onto Crosshair’s lap, the speeder carrying them quickly through the forest away from the droids.

“That,” Crosshair said with an amused chuckle.

Lena wrapped her uninjured arm around his waist, holding on as tightly as she could as Crosshair maneuvered through the trees.

“You could have warned me!” Lena shouted over the wind.

“I did,” Crosshair stated, amusement still present in his voice.

He steered the speeder in the direction of the coordinates that Lena had agreed on with Keebo and Blaze the night before as the rendezvous point. Following a path that led up the side of a plateau, the pair soon reached the small group stationed there. Crosshair brought the speeder to a stop as several troopers ran in their direction.

Lena’s gaze passed over the approaching faces, a variety of emotions flowing from each man. She could sense relief tinged with pride coming from Hunter, joy and an almost overwhelming sense of relief from Sparx, and finally concern and suspicion from Chip. The suspicion caused her to raise an eyebrow, but she filed her questions away to deal with later.

“Are you alright?” Chip asked once he had reached them.

Lena felt Crosshair’s arms move from around her, freeing her from the cage they had formed. Sparx held out his hand, helping her back onto her feet. Before she had a chance to give Chip an answer, he turned her and gently grabbed her arm to look at it.

"It shouldn't be too hard to deal with, but it needs attention," he said before releasing her.

Lena glanced past the men, where she could see Admiral Yung laying on a cot. The top of his uniform had been removed, and she could see large bruises covering his torso. She walked away from the other men, crossing the space to where he was before kneeling at his side. She could feel several pairs of eyes on her as she lifted her left hand. Placing it on the Admiral's shoulder, Lena closed her eyes and focused on his unique signature, blocking out everything else around her. She tried to focus the energy surrounding the pair of them, attempting to pull it towards him to help heal his wounds.

It didn’t take long for Lena to lose her grip on the energy she was trying to wrangle, and it quickly slipped through her metaphorical fingers. Her eyes flew open as she let out a frustrated grunt, removing her hand from the Admiral’s skin.  A light touch on her shoulder brought her attention to someone behind her. Lena looked up to see Chip standing behind her with a pitying look on his face.

“Come on, Lena,” he said, “I know you want to help, but you need to be taken care of.”

Lena moved away from his touch and got to her feet again.

"Forget about me," she said. "I want you to focus all of your energy on helping him and then prepare for incoming casualties from the battle."

Chip's expression hardened, and Lena could tell he was about to argue with her orders.

“Please, Chip. Whoever is in charge down there was after me. The Admiral suffered for that.”

She saw his gaze shift down to her injured arm.

"But you're injured! You need to be cared for too."

"I got shot," she stated simply. "It's happened before, and I'm sure it will happen again before this war is over."

Before he could argue any further, Lena walked back in the direction of Sparx and the two other troopers. They seemed to be discussing something amongst themselves.

“Sparx, I want you to go down and join the battle. I’m sure Blaze and Keebo could use your assistance.”

Sparx nodded in confirmation before placing his helmet on his head and walking away. Lena turned to face Hunter.

“How you choose to proceed with your squad is up to you, Sergeant.”

“Wrecker, Tech, and I will head down with Sparx to help out where we can. Crosshair will stay up here and help from above. That also gives you another advantage as you'll have a lookout and more manpower should someone get the idea into their heads to come up here and attack."

“Good luck down there,” Lena said. “Let’s not prolong our presence here any longer than we have to. We’ve already been on this planet for too long.”

                                                 ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖

Crosshair watched the rest of his squad follow the reg down the plateau's edge to join the battle on the ground below. Glancing over at Lena, he could see the worry etched on her face as she watched the medic work on Admiral Yung. He could also see the droplets of blood on the ground next to where she was standing. Deciding that the people down on the field could do without him for a few minutes longer, Crosshair walked over to where the speeder bikes had been parked. He rummaged in the bag attached to the bike Lena had initially been using until he found the medpack he had seen her stash there before they left. He pulled it out of the bag and walked over to Lena. Gently grabbing her uninjured arm, he dragged her to a rock large enough for them to both sit on.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Tending to your arm,” he answered. “You’re dripping blood onto the ground.”

Lena glanced over to where she had been standing.

“I didn’t even notice. It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“That would be the adrenaline,” he said. “That will wear off.”

Crosshair placed his helmet on the ground beside his feet and removed his gloves. He grabbed the knife off his belt and used it to cut away the torn parts of Lena’s sleeve, pulling the charred bits away from the wound. He returned his knife to its home and pulled the bacta spray out of the medpack, spraying the mist over Lena’s arm. Lena flinched slightly as the mist hit her skin. Once the mist had dried, Crosshair looked closely at her arm.

“This is going to leave a scar,” he said. “You don’t need stitches, but the burn from the shot will leave a mark.”

“As long as my arm still works, I don’t care,” she replied.

“You’ll be fine. He was overreacting a bit,” Crosshair said, gesturing in the medic’s direction.

“He does that,” Lena said with a small laugh. “Chip thinks I’m made of porcelain.”

“Is that why you’re so pale?” Crosshair asked.

Lena rolled her eyes and gave him a small smile in response to his bad joke. Crosshair felt his heart skip a beat at her actions. He gave his head a small shake, focusing back on his task. He placed a bandage over the treated wound, pressing the sticky edges down to adhere to the uninjured skin surrounding the wound. Crosshair felt a shiver go down his spine as his bare fingers touched Lena's skin. His hands stilled, letting his fingers linger on her arm.

“Crosshair?”

His eyes shifted upwards to meet Lena’s gaze. She stared at him with a questioning gaze. He quickly removed his hands from their position on her arm. Grabbing the last thing he needed out of the medpack, he shut it. Before she could react, he stabbed the stim injector into her shoulder above the wound. Lena grimaced at the action, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Again, you could have warned me,” she said once she had recovered.

“Then you would have tensed up, and it would have hurt even more.”

“Thank you,” she said, moving her arm around and wiggling her fingers.

“My pleasure, Sunshine.”

Crosshair pulled his gloves back on and grabbed his helmet from the ground before getting to his feet. He turned and held the medpack out to Lena. She took it from his hand and stood as well. She gave him another smile before turning and walking away towards the busy medic. Crosshair watched her walk away, his gaze following her long braid that swayed as she walked. Once he realized that his gaze was traveling a bit too low and he had caught himself checking her out, he shook his head and looked away, slamming his helmet back onto his head. He needed to focus and do the job Hunter had assigned him.

                                                 ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖

Lena approached Chip as he left the Admiral’s side to grab something from his kit.

“How is he?” she asked.

“I’ve done as much as I can here. I’ll give him a stim to help him stay stable for now, but what he really needs is some time in a bacta tank.”

Lena rubbed her chin as she considered everything that had led to the current situation. What had started as simply a battle against a chunk of the Separatist army had evolved into something much more. It made her wonder if it had always been more from the start.

“You know, you look like General Kenobi when you do that,” Chip said to try and lighten the mood a bit. “All you’re missing is the beard.”

Lena pulled her hand away from her face, giving him a dirty look. The corner of Chip’s mouth quirked up in a tiny smile at her expression. Despite the smile, Lena could feel his anxiety about the Admiral’s condition. She needed to do something to speed up their return to the Monitor, which was waiting above the planet. The last ship that had been sent through had been the Admiral's, which the Separatists' forces had shot down. Lena was surprised that Clone Force 99 had made it to them unharmed.

“This battle needs to end quickly,” she said to Chip. “I need to go down there and figure out what’s going on.”

Chip turned and grabbed her wrist, preventing her from walking away. His smile had faded entirely and had been replaced with a look of concern.

“Lena, you can’t. Your arm…”

“My arm is fine,” Lena said, pulling her wrist from his grasp. “Crosshair patched it up and gave me a stim. It barely even hurts.”

Chip crossed his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrows at her.

“What about the rest of you?” he asked. “Sparx said you flew off the speeder and hit the ground pretty hard. You could have other injuries that aren’t visible.”

Lena spread her arms out wide and moved them around in all directions, making a show of bending at the waist and lifting her legs one at a time to prove to him that she was fine. She felt a bit sore from hitting the ground, but she could tell that nothing besides her arm had been injured.

"I'm fine, Chip. The worst thing is probably a few bruises."

"That could just be your adrenaline talking. I can't, in good conscience, approve you as battle-ready."

Before Lena could argue with him further, he grabbed the stim canister out of his kit and made his way back over to the Admiral. She sighed in frustration at his stubborn need to protect her from every little thing. She walked over to her speeder with an indignant huff and retrieved her binocs from the bag attached to her seat. She then made her way over to the edge of the plateau where Crosshair was lying on the ground, watching over the battle below.

Lena took a seat on the edge at his side and lifted the binocs to her eyes. She searched the battlefield below, trying to ascertain what was happening. Her eyes quickly found the glow of Keebo’s lightsaber, following her padawan’s quick movements. Blaze was fighting not far from Keebo, taking down one droid after another. Things seemed to be going well, but it almost seemed like there was no progress. More droids kept coming from various parts of the surrounding forest, a never-ending torrent of blaster fire upon her troops. Lena could see no sign of any living being on the side of the Separatists, which meant the man that had assaulted Admiral Yung must still be at the base.

“You’re hovering,” Crosshair said between his infrequent shots. “It’s distracting.”

Lena pulled the binocs away from her eyes and glanced over at him.

“Sorry, I just feel like I need to do something.”

“Then do something.”

Lena got to her feet and glanced back in Chip’s direction.

“I’m not supposed to. Doctor’s orders.”

Crosshair shrugged and turned his attention back to the battlefield.

“Guess I was right about you being a coward then.”

                                              ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖

As soon as the words left his mouth, Crosshair regretted them. He could feel Lena’s eyes boring holes into his helmet.

“Coward?” she said, her voice laced with offense.

Crosshair ignored her indignant reaction and let his eyes move over the battle below. He had screwed things up big time with that comment. Though Lena hadn't said anything else, he could tell she was angry. Focusing on the action below, his gaze was drawn by a large explosion. He could see an orange figure flying through the air, the bright green glow of a lightsaber flying even further as it let the person’s hand.

Before it had seemed like a second had passed, Crosshair heard Lena's binocs hitting the ground. A gust of air hit him as she leaped off the side of the plateau, her braid streaming behind her. His eyes widened under his helmet as he watched her land gracefully at the base of the hill and run towards the battle at an inhuman speed. Holding his scope back up to his eye, Crosshair watched as Lena ran past Hunter in the direction of her fallen padawan. He saw Hunter flinch slightly at her presence before he turned to gaze in Crosshair’s general direction.

“What is she doing?” he asked over comms.

“Good question,” Crosshair replied.

Crosshair watched as Lena reached her right hand out, the metal tube that was Keebo’s lightsaber flying through the air into her grasp. Shifting his gaze towards the Twi’lek, he could see that a group of commando droids had surrounded her. He aimed his firepuncher at one, but before he could take the shot, Lena came back into his field of vision.

With both lightsabers ignited, she leaped over the group, rotating in the air so she was upside down. She spun in a circle in a blur, both sabers pinwheeling around her, slicing the heads off all the droids in the circle. She turned in the air again before landing lightly on her feet. The whole move had only taken about 3 seconds.

Crosshair was impressed, which took a lot. It appeared that he had underestimated her. Satisfied that she had things under control, he returned to his task of picking off droids with his firepuncher.

                                               ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖

Lena glanced around the area surrounding her, assuring herself that she had taken care of all the droids in the immediate vicinity. Turning to Keebo, she handed her back her lightsaber.

“Thank you, master. I’m afraid the explosion caught me by surprise.”

“Just make sure you hold onto that,” Lena said, preventing herself from repeating the line she so frequently heard Obi-Wan recite to Anakin about his lightsaber being his life.

Lena turned away from her padawan to look at the surrounding battle. Reigniting her saber, she entered the fray, slashing down every droid she came across. Before long, she met up with Blaze.

“What are you doing here?” he shouted over the noise of blaster fire. “Sparx said you were injured and out of commission.”

"Something is going on, and I couldn't just sit up there doing nothing."

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“That’s what I intend to find out.”

A nearby blast brought their conversation to an end, driving the two of them apart as they moved to avoid debris. Lena ducked and ran across the field, dodging and reflecting blaster fire as she went. A group of B2 battle droids to her right caught her attention. She moved to intercept them but stopped when she heard a deep voice from beside her.

“So, the lovely General decided to finally show her face,” the voice said.

Lena turned to see a tall man standing a few feet from her. Before she could react, the man took a large stride forward and grabbed her left wrist. He bent her hand backward, causing Lena to cry out in pain as her saber fell from her grasp. His other hand shot out and grasped her around the throat, lifting her into the air. Lena flailed in his grasp, smacking at his arm with her hands, trying to push his arm away from her throat. But, with her feet dangling in the air rather than on solid ground, she had nothing to brace herself against.

“Count Dooku sends his regards,” the man said, tightening his grip on her throat.

Lena choked from a lack of air, her hands still desperately trying to push him away. Just as her vision was starting to blur, she heard something hit the arm holding her aloft, followed by a loud bellow. The man released her, and she fell in a heap on the ground. A loud shout came from the left, and she saw a glimpse of white and purple armor plow into the man, tackling him to the ground.

Lena lifted her hand to feel her throat, coughing as she tried to get air into her lungs. Finally, her vision cleared, and she was able to see that it was Sparx that had knocked down her assailant and was now kneeling on the man’s back, twisting his arms behind him. The man howled in pain as his injured arm was pulled behind him. Lena could see a blaster wound on the forearm that had been holding her in the air moments before.

“That’s twice I’ve saved your skin, Sunshine,” Crosshair’s voice said from her wrist comm.

“Glad you’re keeping score,” Lena rasped in reply.

Lena got to her feet, brushing dirt off her pants. Reaching out, she pulled her saber back into her hand. She scolded herself for losing her saber minutes after telling Keebo to hold onto hers. Her padawan suddenly appeared at her side, touching her shoulder.

“Master, are you alright?” she asked.

Lena nodded before coughing again. As she started to say something to Keebo, a loud boom sounded in the distance. They both turned in the direction of the sound. A large cloud of dust erupted from the forest with another, even louder boom.

“What was that?” Keebo asked.

“I think Wrecker just set off his bombs,” Lena replied.

The remaining droids around them fell to the ground as their signal was interrupted by the base's destruction. The clones let out a chorus of victory shouts. Loudest of all of them was Wrecker's booming laugh and cheering. Lena looked over to where he was helping Tech to his feet. Lena walked over to the pair, giving them a wave.

"Impressive explosion, Wrecker. Why'd you wait so long?"

“Hunter told me to wait until that guy showed up,” he said, pointing at the man Sparx had hauled to his feet.

"A warning would have been nice, though, before you set it off," Tech muttered, brushing dirt off himself. "I was nearly hit by flying debris."

Wrecker smacked his brother on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over again, his booming laugh emerging again.

“Oh, you’re fine. Quit whining.”

Lena laughed at the brothers. She looked around the battlefield, scanning for any remaining enemies. Confirming that either blaster fire or electronic interference had taken out all the droids, she relaxed. Now that the battle was over, she could feel her adrenaline wearing out. She hurt everywhere, her throat and arm especially bad.

Her wrist comm beeped, and when she acknowledged it, she heard the voice of a clone trooper speaking to her.

“General, the scans indicate that the Separatist air patrols have failed with the destruction of the base. We can now safely send ships down to your position.”

"That's good news. We need an immediate evac team to bring Admiral Yung back to the Monitor. He's been severely injured and needs more intense medical attention."

“Right away, ma’am.”

As she finished speaking with the officer, Lena noticed a small group of troopers walking towards her. To be more accurate, two of the three were walking. Chip’s gait was more of a stomping motion. He reached her side in record time, lifting her chin with his hand to get a good look at her throat.

“What happened to staying out of the battle?” he asked, anger tinging his question.

“Things changed.”

The medic whirled around to face Crosshair, who had reached them along with Hunter.

“Why didn’t you stop her from coming down here?” he asked.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow at his question.

“What did you want me to do? Tackle her?”

Chip glared at him before turning back to Lena.

“Had no problem putting your hands on her before,” he grumbled as he moved to examine her arm.

Lena looked at him with surprise.

“Problem?” she asked.

“No,” came his bitter reply.

Lena rolled her eyes at Chip’s attitude. Her gaze shifted to Crosshair, who met her eyes without reserve.

“Impressive display,” he said. “Knew you had it in you.”

Lena had a feeling he was trying to backtrack and make up for calling her a coward earlier. She was almost tempted to let him get away with it.

“Nice shooting,” she complimented back.

A smirk twisted his lips, but Lena could feel something coming from him that was anything but confident. Regret and concern hid behind that smirk. Sudden pain in her arm pulled her focus away from his gaze. She let out a yelp at the sensation.

"You bled through your bandage," Chip observed. "We'll have to patch you up again once we return to the Monitor. And check you for other injuries.”

“After you get Admiral Yung taken care of.”

“Yes, of course.”

He released her arm and walked over to check on Keebo. Lena turned to look back at Crosshair, but he was conversing with Hunter, his back turned to her. She then looked to where Sparx was standing with the man that had attacked her. She walked over to the pair, looking up at the man.

“If Dooku wanted to get rid of me that badly, he should have just come himself.”

The man sneered at her and spit at her feet.

“He said you weren’t worth the trouble.”

He didn’t get much of a chance to say anything else as Sparx squeezed his injured arm, causing him to nearly double over in pain.

“Funny thing to say for a man that’s going to spend a long time in prison and never had full use of one of his arms ever again,” the ARC trooper said.

The sound of gunships over their heads brought all conversation to a halt as the evac team arrived. Lena left the man in Sparx’s capable hands and walked away to help load injured troops onto the transports.

                                      ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖ ⌖

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this part! Please reblog, like, and comment! If you would like to be added to the taglist, go here.

Tags: @imalovernotahater​

[mqgriett]

Paring: Tech x Fem!Reader

Warning: light smut and a little blood

Summary: of course things would go wrong right when you were so close to having him

Notes: this is a part 2 to “Princess” please read that before going into this one! also EEK I haven't posted in a while!! I have spring break next week and then online learning the week after so I should be able to upload more frequently!! Stay safe everyone please!

Oh stars this felt perfect. The feeling of his soft lips on yours, the way he gently tugged at the waist of your dress, his cologne, everything. When he finally pulled back you felt drunk with lust, the small residue of your lipstick on his lips only making it worse. Without your heels on you were reminded of how short you were next to him, your height diminishing by at least three or four inches.

Tech subconsciously bit his bottom lip, subtly looking down the top of your new dress. His hands were still placed just above your ass, an animalistic feeling cascading onto him as he locked eyes with you. He kissed you again, less sweet this time, and practically dominated your mouth with his own. The few times you pulled back for a bit of air, he would suck the tender flesh of your neck and whisper things that had flooded his mind for far too long.

“I’ve waited so- so long to do this.” He whimpered pathetically, cursing himself for how small his voice was in the moment.

It drove you mad how timid, yet rough, he was right now. You could hardly stand it, and the mere thought of him being this helpless when you were only kissing made your mind wander to the most sinful places.

You gently pushed him backwards, hands trailing down his collar bone to unbutton his black jacket. His breath staggered, fingers desperately trying to find the bottom of your silk gown as you continued to walk forward.

The backs of his knees hit the side of your bed, causing him to fall onto his back. You didn’t hesitate to immediately crawl on top of him, sitting directly where you knew he would feel it most. Tech let out a pitiful moan and threw his head back, back arching at only the feeling of your heat on his clothed hard.

You started at unbuttoning his shirt, your fingers shaking from pure excitement. He grew tired of waiting, that animalistic urge making its way back down his body. Grabbing the opened section of his shirt, he basically ripped the last three buttons off. You hummed in delight as he sat up and held the small of your back to ensure you wouldn’t fall.

All it took was one slow and hard grind of your hips for him to hopelessly whine, “take it off, please for maker’s sake take it off.” He groaned the last word, his hand pawing at your clothed ass.

Knees still on either side of him, you sat up and held your dress with the opposite arms. It was halfway up your torso when a ringing went off in Tech’s ear.

Hunter’s voice brought him down from his lust-drunken state, “Main floor’s been breached! Tech where are you?”

Tech raised a finger to his ear, pressing down to reply, “third floor, in the room. She’s still getting, Uh-“ He looked down at your bare thighs, “getting dressed.”

He heard a few shots echo from Hunter’s line of the comm, “Tech you got klankers heading up to you from the south stairs, get her outta here before Kraken finds her first.”

“Copy that Sarg.” Tech said sternly.

He selfishly took one last look at you on top of him before gently pushing you off in a hurried manner. “Main floor has been breached by a droid squad. Got a few heading up here, we need to go. Where’s the closest exit?” He asked, buttoning up his shirt where he could.

“The gardens, there’s a secret stairway that leads down from the balcony.” You replied swiftly, opening your bedside drawer and lifting up a tube of lipstick. The action unlocked the cabinet underneath the drawer, allowing you to type in correct code into the beskar safe.

The robotic clanking of droids making their way up the stairs could be heard through the wall, which was not a good sign considering the walls were thicker than those of the Jedi temple; meaning, there were at least a hundred of those robots.

“Hurry.” Tech stated quickly. You snatched your weapon from the safe and ran past him, grabbing his wrist tightly in the process.

As soon as you two were in the hallway, the droids had successfully managed to get through the locked doors. Tech fired a few shots at the front ones, not noticing that there were B2 droids behind the B1s.

You spun around just in time, the red plasma bullet hitting the bright blue blade of your lightsaber. It deflected it, firing back at the B2 and hitting him in the center of the chest.

“Go!” You shouted, blocking a few other shots from hitting him. You held the lightsaber in a backwards grip, swaying it from side to side to keep a steady momentum going.

Your bare feet smacked against the cold marble floor, making you slide almost every time you turned a corner. Even through the chaos, you found a moment to share a smile with Tech.

“This a little more familiar?” He heaved, both pistols waving in the air as he sprinted. The top of his shirt was still open, his hair a pure mess. If you weren’t on the brink of being kidnapped and/or killed, you would’ve thought he was hot.

Taking the final turn, you busted through the doors to the large balcony garden. The cold wind made your shoulders shiver, your braided hair falling loose. You made a beeline for the control panel, slamming your shoulder into it after it refused to open. It sliced your skin open, a small line of blood beginning to trickle down your arm. The staircase began to appear from the wall, each stair seemingly growing from the castle’s exterior.

Then it stopped.

A gunship full of B1s landed on the opposite side of the doorway, Kraken walked out behind them. Your shoulder had its own heartbeat, an indescribable pain shooting out your neck.

Tech pressed his fingers to his ear, “Sarg, we could use a little backup.”

Blasts from the other end is all he heard for a moment, “we got our own problems here, Tech.”

Dank Farrik, it was truly just the two of you now.

The battle droids started their first wave, Tech and you with your backs pressed together. A few BXs leaped from behind, landing strategically in front of you two.

One Of them lunged for you, latching onto your ankles and pulling you to the ground with a swift hit. You yelped, your shoulders hitting against the stone floor with an indescribable amount of force.

That same BX reached for your knees, starting to drag you towards the gun ship. You writhed and kicked, nailing it in the center of the head; as it went soaring to the ground, so did the bottom of your gorgeous dress. It left a long tear from your right knee all the way up to just below your left hip.

A string of cuss words left your mouth, your lightsaber blade hissing back out of the hilt as you cut the legs off of a few B1s reaching for you.

Tech lifted you up from under your armpits, immediately returning to battle afterwards. He fired straight for the heads of the droids, the two of you back to back as you destroyed each robot coming near you.

“Do you remember that mission on Felucia?” Tech heaved, “the one where that ancient tribe thought the yellow B1 droid was their leader?”

You slashed the heads off of the three enemies closest to you, your shoulder beginning to ache more with every swing. “Now’s not the best time to be all sentimental.”

“Think about that mission. What we did that day, you and I!” He shouted, the circle of droids tightening with every passing second.

You quickly scanned your memory, finally realizing what he was insinuating. Turning to face his back, you cleared enough room to get a running start. Tech ducked, just low enough for you to jump off of his back. As you soared through the air you spun around, reaching your hand out and carrying Tech through the atmosphere with the Force.

You landed smack down on your ass, the wind being knocked out of you while Tech landed with ease on the ground.

The droids turned back around, looking straight at your new location and positioning to attack again.

Just when all hope seemed lost, a 212 gunship landed behind the enemy's line, a plethora of troopers filling out and blasting the remaining separatist dummies.

You sighed of relief, your entire body seemingly having its own heartbeat. “I haven’t... done that,” heave, “done that much since we were last together.”

Tech helped you up again, snaking an arm around your waist after seeing the damage done to your right leg. That BX droid must have scratched through your skin while ripping your dress, a thin trail of blood trickling down your thigh.

“We need to get you to the ship.” He said lowly, “between both those cuts you could bleed out.”

You shook your head, “you know that they need help in the main room. You know that.” Your words were sharp and painful to huff out.

“You are my only priority right now.” He countered, bending down to scoop you up under your knees.

Pushing him backwards, you took in a deep breath, “We’re going back down to the ballroom. That’s an order.” Your bottom lip quivered, the aftershock of the plasma hitting your leg finally catching up.

Although he meant it in a much calmer way, his next sentence was tinted with something more sinister, “you’re not my Commander anymore. You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore.”

“Tech. We are going back to that ball room!” You turned and made your way towards the doors.

He grabbed your uninjured arm, “I can’t let you bleed out and die right in front of me. We need to get to the Marauder.”

Internally, he knew how stubborn you were, and that you would go by yourself if needed. The look you had confirmed his thought, your brows arching and eyes hardening.

“Fine.” He heaved, “fine.”

You nodded, already halfway through the door once he had agreed. The rest of the 212th troopers could handle themselves, but only the maker himself knew what was going on down in the ballroom.

The guests had been evacuated by the majority of the troopers who had previously been in the large room, leaving very few to battle the rest of the klankers still trapped inside.

Of course, Crosshair had somehow managed to smuggle his gun inside. You knew he would, he didn’t go anywhere without it, just as a safety measure. Hunter had resorted to his singular vibroblade while Wrecker only needed his strength to smash the droids together.

As you observed the scene in front of you, Tech tore the sleeve off of his white undershirt and swiftly tied it around your thigh. You raised an eyebrow at him, his face communicating a look of “I had to do something”

You reignited your lightsaber, the sudden pulse against your hand sending vibrations all the way up and down your body. Your weapon stabbed through the stomachs of every droid in your path, this pattern continuing until you reach the rest of the bad batch.

“Just like old times-- Commander.” Hunter smiled, a break in the sentence as he pried his knife out of a droid.

You smirked, gripping the hilt of your saber with both hands, “some things never change, Hunter.”

He returned your devilish grin with his own at the sound of his name, not hesitating another moment before launching his blade across the room.

Within ten minutes of continuous fighting, every droid was broken and dead. Not even a second after, Tech had you in his arms. Your vision was beginning to go a little starry, everything becoming a small blur.

As you zoned in and out of consciousness, you caught snippets of conversations being held. The majority were just Crosshair and Wrecker questioning why Tech’s top few buttons had been ripped off.

Tech set you down on the bench inside the cockpit, immediately barking out a few commands to Hunter for medical supplies. A needle pierced your arm, an echo of Tech’s snapping fingers causing you to slip in and out of your dazed state.

The anesthesia kicked in, your eyes shutting completely. Tech carefully sewed the gash in your arm shut, along with the one in your leg.

“Hunter.” He said softly, not wanting to wake you.

Hunter, knowing what he was on the verge of asking, replied instantly, “I’ll comm into Cody. Let him know what happened. You stay with her.” He tipped his head towards the other two, “both of you with me. Check for anyone else in the room who may have hid.”

Crosshair and Wrecker answered with a nod, following behind the Sargent.

Tech quietly sat next to you, gently lifting you up and setting your head on his lap. He lovingly stroked your hair back, allowing his head to touch the back of the cold bench.

He didn’t even realize that he fell asleep until the other three returned.

Luckily Wrecker had already taken a picture.

[mugichaaaa]

Bad Batch Analysis prt2

Welcome back everyone to part 2 to my Bad Batch analysis trailers. The trailer just happened to be posted around midnight and my wifi went out in the morning so I couldn’t really do much until now. Since we got another AMAZING trailer for the Bad Batch series I believe it’s time to do another analysis. If you haven’t read my first analysis from the first trailer you can read it here 

Without further ado let's get started. 

The first scene we get from the trailer is a shot after that one shot we got from the first trailer. This could probably be around the time they landed on Kamino because if you look in the top right corner there is the Havoc Marauder. 

Training Sequence

Next we see one of the many training grounds on Kamino. It’s strange seeing only one training ground and not multiple. It seems like this specific training ground might be underwater, as there is this long pole in the center with surrounding lights around it. Now that might be a reach, but honestly where could you see that training ground on the round houses above the ocean. 

Along with that in the Legends there was a Kaminoan Jedi who lived under the sea to try to prevent the vision she had. (the vision was the clone army betraying the Jedi) So it could be possible when the Kamioan’s were building the floating city they builded the bottom levels to be used as training grounds or something. 

In this scene we can see that Echo is using a vibroblade. Now is this Echo’s own vibroblade or does this belong to Hunter and Echo just picked it up to destroy one of the droids?

I feel like this shot can tell us a lot about the bad batch and how they interact with each other. Hunter and Crosshair are looking at the camera to which I can probably assume where Tarkin speaks to them. Echo lightly turns towards the direction of Tech, Hunter, and Crosshair. Tarkin probably said something that would make Echo turn to look at the three of them. 

Also Tech although very subtle looks at the ground. Now this could be two things, if Tarkin said something then it might be tech looking at the ground like a Child does when their parents scolds them. Or it might be Tech is exhausted and is looking at the destroyed droids all around him. 

Hunter is seen talking to someone (probably Omega) telling them that their squad (aka the Bad Batch) is nothing but trouble. We can see Crosshair and Tech walk to a door which I can assume to be their barracks for the time being (before they escape). 

I really like this scene from Crosshair. This seemed to show how well the Bad Batch worked together. Hunter throws his knife in the air and Crosshair goes and shoots it in place. Which might make it even more sad if Crosshair betrays the Bad Batch. Imagine this, The bad batch is in this certain situation where a duo between Crosshair and Hunter would work. Hunter turns to where Crosshair would normally be. 

“Cross lets-” 

All he sees no one, and the feeling of betrayal and pain seeps through him. 

“Right…” 

Hunter Civilian Clothing

So we see Hunter in Civilian clothes which is like. UGH please let me hold your hand Hunter. The first time we see them is at 0:31 where Hunter steals a speeder, probably to catch up to Fennec as we can see in 1:39 who has a kid. 

We get a better look at Hunter’s Civilian clothes, it really reminds me of Cut lawquane’s outfit from The Clone Wars Season 2 “The Deserters”. Maybe we might see Cut lawquane in the Bad Batch, if so I think that would be really great to see. Cut’s children with Omega might be the cutest thing we might get from Bad Batch, that’s if it happens.  

Now in this scene we see Tech piloting the ship, but if you look at the corner there is Hunter on a control panel with bandages wrapped around him. So this might be either Hunter getting injured from a mission (maybe from Fennec Shand??)

This kid (not Omega) is dangling onto a cylindrical object. The Following scene with Hunter and the kid following a speeder that belongs to Fennec Shand. 

The Final Part of the Clone Wars 

At 0:37 we see the Batchers coming down from what seems to be like a hill destroying B1 battle droids. While the next shot is Tech and Echo shooting down said droids. 

So in my previous analysis I mentioned how for one the explosions I was wondering if it was the Batchers or the Empire. Now with this new Trailer it seems to be leaning more towards the Batchers doing this. 

We see Hunter putting away his knife with Wrecker carrying what seems like to be a destroyed droid. 

Now I mentioned in my previous analysis that the snowy planet might be a Crosshair arc. But now with these new scenes with the snowy planet it might be a set up to Crosshair being something that most Bad Batch Stans don’t want. 

Crosshair as the traitor

So I know I talked about this in my last trailer analysis and I said this was very unlikely. But uhhhh now with this trailer I'm 70% sure Crosshair will betray the Bad Batch. Now the reason why I said Crosshair wouldn’t betray the Bad Batch was because the Purge trooper and Crosshair just didn’t have things that lined up. But now with this new trailer I am pretty worried for our boy Crosshair. 

This is the ONLY scene we get of Omega and Crosshair together. Any other scenes with Omega and the Bad Batch Crosshair is nowhere in sight. 

I literally called this when I wrote about my predictions about the Bad Batch series. Where I wrote two paths. One where Crosshair was not the traitor and stays with the bad batch and one if Crosshair was the traitor (I censor the right since it had my actual name since I did the bad batch analysis during school)

And 1:19 seems to likely prove my Crosshair is the traitor snippet I did. All the batchers + omega are running through what seems to be like the late night halls of Kamino. Who knew Echo would be following his brother’s footsteps. 

Again Crosshair isn’t here 

… or maybe he might be hiding him behind Hunter to give us anxiety about what happened to Crosshair. But if Crosshair is gone then they need a new sniper to fill in his role...

Omega

We are first introduced to a new character who is called “omega”.  Now who is Omega? Well we don’t know this is the first we EVER got to see them anywhere. Now when I first saw Omega I immediately thought of Satine’s Mandalore. We are not talking about the houses and clans (like house Wren). We’re talking about Satine’s Mandalorians (the pacifist) in which when we see her people in the clone wars they are normally pale with light colored eyes. Omega almost fits that but without the bright blue eyes. Another thing is that Omega kinda sounds like they have a Satine Mandalorian accent. As I was listening to Omega speak I was comparing it to Korkie and his friends and Omega lowkey sounds like Korkie’s friends but that’s probably a really big reach.

This is where I think if Crosshair betrays the Bad Batch this is where Omega would come in and take Crosshair’s role as sniper. We don’t know how good Omega is but with Hunter’s heightened sense his sight might be just as good to teach Omega to work with a bow and arrow

The Explosion

Now we have an explanation for the explosion we saw in the last trailer. It was definitely the bad batch and now we know it was part of the thrusters from a broken Venator Star Destroyer. Since now we got more context to that explosion, I believe that this will be on Bracca where maybe MAYBE we might see a young ginger Cal Kestis. 

Rex

*breaths in* 

REX I MISSED YOU SO MUCH 

I’m so happy Rex and Echo are going to a reunion. I really hope Rex and Echo have a moment where Rex completely vents to Echo about everything that happened. Like Umbara, how much Five’s death took a toll on him, and when he left Jesse and his brothers during order 66. It would be really interesting to see if Rex has some sort of survivor's guilt. I know we see a little bit in Season 7 when he’s talking to Cody about the Domino squad but after order 66 I think it would be nice to dwell onto a little more. 

Another thing I really hope we get to see how Rex meets up with Wolffe and Gregor. 

AT-ET Walker

We get a couple of scenes here of the AT-ET but here look at this. The republic symbol and the red paint is completely removed, it’s completely bare (which is so boring). Another thing is that the AT-ET are completely cutting across a group of people, these could be protestors of something that we yet not know of. 

It seems like Hunter and Tech snuck into and AT-ET, now the next scene we get is an AT-ET blowing up another AT-ET. There are two possibilities on who shot at the AT-ET, one could be the Bad Batch themselves shooting at the other AT-ET or two it could be the Empire shooting at the Bad Batch stolen AT-ET 

Saw Gerra

It’s really nice to see Saw Gerra, we have seen him in 5 star wars projects (Clone wars, Rogue one, Rebels, Jedi Fallen Order, and now Bad Batch). Since this is the beginning of the Empire we get that small time between Clone wars and Jedi: Fallen Order to see what Saw was up to. 

Fennec Shand

My wifey, I love her so much. But I did get something wrong and right with Fennec Shand in my last analysis. 

First of all the explosion we see with Fennec Shand is NOT connected to the factory arc but instead connected to Hunter saving the kid. 

But the thing I did get right was that one scene where Fennec was holding a gun out. That fog is from a fight and Fennec and her opponent are at a standstill. 

One thing new about Fennec is that she had a Kid dangling off her speeder. First of all that’s not safe at all and 2 why does Fennec have a Kid with her and then why does Hunter have the child in the next scene?

Small theory but this kid might be just like Omega that escaped. Fennec is sent out to retrieve the kid but Hunter is like “not on my watch” and takes the kid. Fennec looks shocked that Hunter interferes with her job and looks ANGY. 

Or this kid might be just some random kid that Fennec took. 

Now a recurring segment called Cool things I saw on the Trailer 

Just any scenes from the training scene with Wrecker is just cool and I’m like yes sir go off. 

I swear every scene with Wrecker is a joy to see. He just brightens my day all the time

Bad Batch are taking notes from Waxer and Boil about adopting kids during war times. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This segment was short due to most of the trailer being analyzed and not much random spread out scenes. 

And that’s that! Thank you all who read this far, I hope I was able to make this clear enough for you all to understand. If there’s anything else you saw in the Trailer that I miss I would love for you to comment about it! I think i’m going to do a countdown for Bad Batch, idk let’s see how I keep this up. 

[chaoticevilbean]

Inspired by Redemption and Far From Home, Close To Heart

Luke stumbles into the shuttle, heaving as he carries his father’s body the final few steps. The ground shudders beneath, a sign of the impending destruction. His mind is numb, not letting anything slip into his head. He has no thoughts but one, as though he’s on autopilot. He has to get into the air. Now.

Somehow, he manages to get into space and out of range just moments before the Death Star explodes. The shuttle rocks a little from the waves of energy, but settles quickly enough. Luke can’t tell if he’s about to pass out or throw up, or maybe both, but he still manages to turn his head to the controls, prepping to return to the Rebellion.

He stills as he does a double-take of the view outside the transparisteel.

A void. Absolutely devoid of stars, planets, and ships. Where are the Rebels? Where is Endor? Where is everyone?

A light catches his attention. A star pops into existence, shining brightly. As he watches, another pops up on the other side of his view. Another at the top. Another by the first. Suddenly, the pinpricks that are stars are materializing from nowhere, filling his vision with a brilliant white. He feels the need to look away, but doesn’t. The Force is screaming at him to look, to keep his eyes forward. He obeys, despite his eyes trying desperately to blink away the overload, despite his mind pressing him to call for the Rebels, for Leia and Han, despite the part of him that is numb with pain and grief and exhaustion.

The last speck of black disappears, and suddenly, Luke is constricted. He feels something compressing him, and he can barely breathe, but he trusts the Force.

Just as it all grows to just below too much, it stops. The light is gone, the constriction is gone, and Luke feels like he’s floating in the center of space.

It only takes a single second between his eyes closing at the sudden darkness and them opening for Luke to know something has changed drastically.

For starters, his head feels a little clearer, and he can actually form thoughts now. He passes that off as the Force’s help. His body is still pumped full of adrenaline, leaving his pain as null as it can be.

The larger difference is the shuttle… which is no longer a shuttle. Instead he sits in some sort of starfighter, equipped with technology that looks at least two decades old. Luke’s sitting in it as though he’s been flying for hours, the security belts wrapped snugly across his chest. A quick glance back shows him that his father’s body isn’t there. Granted, the ship would be too small, but Luke is still disappointed when he sees nothing but more outdated tech.

He’s still in his singed clothes, and he can see the faint lines from being shot full of electricity. Instinctually, he wraps a hand around his lightsaber, startling at the feel of another weight. He looks down, and takes a deep breath as he tries to remain calm.

Five lightsabers. Five. Kriffin’. Lightsabers. One is his own green blade, and he recognizes the one next to it as his father’s, the one that’d made him check his belt. Two more radiate darkness, and he guesses them to be the Emperor’s own blades. The last saber is one he has no clue who it belongs to, but it’s light is brilliant in comparison to the three shadows between it and Luke’s own weapon.

A large boom draws his focus to the open space in front of him. He swiftly takes the controls, letting the Force and his own knowledge of engineering and ships take over as he adjusts to the old machinery. He sees a planet nearby, he himself having been facing enough away to not notice initially. Outside the planet’s atmosphere, Luke’s breath is taken away.

Two Venator-class Star Destroyers battling three Munificent-class frigates, a flurry of fighters surrounding them and causing small explosions that left small bursts in Luke’s vision. He can see vulture droids mixed in, and it seems that most of the fighters belong with the destroyers and the droids with the frigates.

He startles at the beeping of a comm from his controls. He’s cautious, uncertain of where he is and what just happened, so instead of simply accepting the call, he makes sure it’s only audio first. Then, with a deep breath to steady himself, he presses the answer button.

“Trooper, state your designation.” Oh. They think he’s a stormtrooper.

Don’t answer, the Force whispers to him. He doesn’t, instead starting towards the battle.

“Trooper, state your designation or you will be targeted.” Luke notices the voice is nervous, hidden under a professional steadiness. The Force whispers more. Good. Not Imperial. Fight. Fight with them. Luke has never been one to ignore the Force. With a renewed determination and energy funneling into him, he revs the engine, shooting off like a bolt towards the battle.

Instantly, there are droids seeking him out, targeting the fighter as an enemy. Luke doesn’t hesitate to blast them, quick and clean shots. They collide with each other, blowing up as the vacuum of space pulls them apart. Other fighters unthinkingly attack anyone tailing him, and he responds in kind. He ignores the voice that calls for his designation again, only noticing when the call clicks off. Perhaps the officer believes his ship is unable to connect properly, and took his joining the battle as him trying to prove himself not an enemy without comms.

The battle’s tide is slowly turning to the side of the troopers, who apparently aren’t Imperial, which is strange. But the frigates are still firing, and it’s not a guarantee of victory yet. Luke decides to change this.

Remembering his flight against the first Death Star, he passes right next to the main frigate, close enough to draw the attention of a large group of vulture droids. The other fighters do their best to shoot the enemies down, realizing that one of their own has some sort of plan. With little hesitation, Luke fires directly at a small weapons port. He remembers the main layouts of these sorts of frigates, having studied them with Han because “Ya gotta know the basics first, kid, and these are what I grew up with.” The plasma hits, and it’s just like he planned.

A chain reaction, like the Death Stars. The port blows up. Being so small, there’s no shielding, and nothing stopping it from blowing up the port next to it. There’s a series of explosions along the frigate, followed quickly by the shields going down as their generators are hit. In truth, it’s a clever blueprint, only expending power on the bigger weapons, which are more likely to be targeted. But the smaller ones are made closer together, and they make a path straight past the protection of the generators.

With nothing between the walls and the oncoming attacks, the main frigate fails quickly, and Luke barely makes it away before it explodes, splitting in half and taking out another of the enormous ships with a collision. The last ship is swiftly decimated, all droids going lifeless without their command centers. Fighters rush to destroy them fully, before the one-person ships return to their destroyers.

Luke’s comm lights up again, and this time he doesn’t hesitate to answer it- just audio again, because he’s sure he’ll be blasted into oblivion if he reveals his true face.

“Trooper, good work out there. Return to the Resolute and we’ll see if we can fix that receiver of yours.” He responds by ending the call, a signal he was listening, hopefully. He moves his fighter to obey, about to follow the starfighter that looks most like his own, at least from his limited angle, but halts at the humming negative from the Force. A nudge directs him towards the planet, so he turns right around and launches off towards the surface. The comm lights up again, but he ignores it once more.

Upon breaching the atmosphere, it’s clear what the Force wants. A large amount of outdated droids, ones that look straight out of the Clone Wars era, face off against a legion of- wait. As Luke flies closer, his mind reels. He’s in a ship at least two decades from the past, and fought droids with troopers who aren’t Imperial. Not to mention that many of the ships had some sort of personalization to them. Even the legion below looks more varied in color than stormtroopers would be. And more droids, more Clone Wars era droids, are fighting against them.

A flash of blue catches his attention, and seals the conclusion. He’s in the Clone Wars. The Force somehow brought him back in time to when the clones haven’t been brainwashed and turned against the Jedi. Luke knows it’s true, not just from the humming energy around him, but also from the fact that a Jedi is among the clone troopers, currently slicing apart B1’s like they’re flimsi.

Deciding that flying will make him too much of a target, Luke drops down at a high speed, pulling up just enough to not crash and barreling through the droids far enough away from the troopers that he won’t hurt any. They’re in a city, one with earthen buildings and green roofs. The transparisteel pops up and he jumps out, using his green blade to destroy the machines around him. The Force leaps to his aid, and he directs it to push back at his enemies, clearing the area swiftly as the poorly made droids crumple. He doesn’t feel bad about their demises, knowing they’re only partially sapient. Nothing like Artoo or Threepio.

With a small pause in fighting, he closes his eyes, raising a hand up to help concentrate on the Force around him. He senses the droids for a good chunk of distance, and manages to stretch himself to the troopers and the Jedi without overexerting his already low reserves. He’s still rather numb from his battle on the Death Star, but wounds have never stopped him before. Gently but quickly nudging the Force away from the living beings, Luke closes his fist slowly. He can hear as well as feel the metal being crushed as the Force wraps tightly around each piece, pressing inwards with a strength that can��t be fought.

The droids for roughly a square mile around him are destroyed, pummeled into nothing by his will. He doesn’t rest, instead rushing towards the Jedi, even as he feels their presence rush towards him. They’re bright, radiating peace and serenity.

Luke rounds the last corner just as they do, coming face-to-face with the troopers and their leader.

The Jedi wears brown robes of varying shades, covered in dust. A Human male, with auburn hair and a beard. He seems taken aback at the sight of Luke, although who can blame him. The young man probably looks a few inches from death.

The Force doesn’t wait for the Jedi or his troopers to recover, instead pressing Luke in a new direction. He turns his head towards it, letting his senses enhance with the urges of his ever-present companion. There’s more droids. He guesses that the Force wants all of the destructive machines gone, so he doesn’t waste a second to rush off, ignoring the exclamations behind him as he dashes to obey.

His feet are numb as he runs, but he feels every impact jarring his body, and knows he can’t keep up the adrenaline much longer. He exits an alleyway straight into another group of troopers battling B1’s, and hurries to slice the enemies to scrap. He sees another Jedi, his heart soaring as much as it can at the thought of more of his new people being alive. The purple blade doesn’t halt in its attack, even though Luke can feel the scrutiny of the wielder on him.

Once more, the moment there’s a big enough break, Luke’s eyes close and his hand raises, and he crushes as many enemies as he can from his position. He feels the Force pressing on him again as he opens his eyes, and he distantly hears the sound of something clunky and metal heading towards their area. He follows the directions, saber aloft as he goes to meet the fast-paced enemy in the middle. Whatever is there moves fast and without worry.

A strange sight greets him, his mind struggling to comprehend for a moment before finally clicking the pieces of history into place. General Grievous, a mostly cybernetic Kaleesh.

He is more droid than organic. The thought attempts to slip through, only to be grasped by the Force, energy pulsing in agreement. Grievous sees him, lightsabers drawing in a menacing action.

“Ah, a Jedi,” his raspy but deep voice calls. “Your sabers will be a fine addition to my collection. And you have so many.”

Luke bows his head in concentration, disengaging his saber and putting it on his belt so he can raise both hands. He hears the movement of the CIS general, but trusts in the energy that swirls around him. He wraps it around Grievous, much like he did the droids, but this time only uses it to take hold of his limbs. Said limbs move without the commands of their attached brain, instead twisting around each other. Grievous roars, perhaps in pain, but definitely in rage, as he loses control so quickly, watches his own body warp into a cage for him. The lightsabers he holds fly from his cloak and hands, straight onto the belt of his victorious opponent, one who did so little and yet so much.

Luke opens his eyes, waiting for the next command of the Force, hoping that it will lead him a step closer to whatever reason the energy of the galaxy has for bringing him here. He receives only a nudge to wait a moment. He does, hands gripping his singed shirt tightly. A voice that sounds like Leia tells him to get medical attention as soon as possible. A voice that sounds like Han tells him to demand a reward. He brushes both away with a small smile.

Both Jedi he encountered barrel into the open area, lightsabers out and ready, only to pull up short at the sight before them. Luke gives them a small wave, still smiling a little.

He knows that it truly is a sight to behold. Grievous was always portrayed as a sort of monster-under-the-cot in his history lessons, and the cyborg truly did look it. To find said monster twisted into a Tatooian knot is surprising, to say the least. Then Luke himself is singed and sweaty and has five lightsabers on his belt, along with whatever ones Grievous had been carrying with him.

But just as they observe him, Luke himself attempts to memorize the features of the Jedi.

The one with the purple blade is also a Human male, dark-skinned and tall. His head is smooth-shaven, and his clothes match his peer’s. He gives off an aura of control, of a determination born of practice. His eyes are distrusting but curious, but what else can be expected in a literal war zone?

The blue-sabered one hasn’t changed in the time between Luke first seeing him and now, but now Luke can make out some of the details. The man has bags under his eyes, and a gash on his cheek that is sluggishly bleeding. Both Jedi’s clothes show marks where blaster bolts barely missed their targets.

“Hello there,” the first Jedi calls over, eyes darting between Luke and Grievous with partially concealed shock.

“Hello.” Luke winces at the word, raspy and painful. He attempts to clear his throat, only to find himself coughing horribly at the rough feeling. The Jedi look concerned, the dark-skinned one a bit more mildly, at the small fit. Once he’s recovered, Luke tries again. “Hello.”

“Well, it seems you’ve done us a great favor. That is, if you were the one who crushed the droids and did that,” he waves his hand in a vague gesture at the still growling and twisted Grievous, “then we have much to thank you for.” Luke nods in affirmative, already feeling the adrenaline starting to fade a little. His head is getting a little more fuzzy, and his body is feeling more unbalanced. To counteract this, at least temporarily, Luke calls on the Force for support, clearing his head and grounding himself in the moment.

“Who are you?” The purple-sabered Jedi speaks up now, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Luke sees him glance down at his belt, where so many weapons are clasped.

“Luke Starkiller.” Rebellion protocol has been drilled into him, that he has to give a fake name until he can figure out if he’s safe.

“Mace, as much as I know you wish to question him, and goodness knows I would love answers as well, I think it best we get him some medical attention. It’s amazing that he hasn’t gotten psychic shock yet.”

“Psychic shock? What’s that?” Luke receives two extremely worried looks in response, signs that perhaps Yoda and Ben missed something important in his training. It’s practically confirmed when the two men turn back to each other, instantly engaging into what Han loves calling “let’s not die” mode.

“I’ll get Grievous and him to the transports, along with all the other wounded. You move forward in the campaign.”

“Master Koon should be down soon to help us.”

“Well, that’s good then. We no longer need three generals down here, so I’ll simply trade off positions with him.”

“Make sure Skywalker’s cleaned up everything before you lift off.”

The two of them clasped arms, probably switching to communicating through a Force bond. Then, with a quick nod to each other, the two launch into action. The dark-skinned Jedi, Mace, the other called him, disappears further into the city, gone in an instant. Luke watches the movement with tired but keen eyes, then starts as their words finish registering. Did Mace say Skywalker?

But he had said his name was Starkiller. Even if they saw through the lie, it didn’t make sense for them to instantly know he’s a Skywalker. Unless… if this really was the Clone Wars, then his father is still a Republic general. Alive, fighting against the Sith, having not Fallen yet.

It’s a bit too late when Luke realizes the remaining Jedi is now standing next to him. Behind the man, Grievous levitates a few feet off the ground, silent as though having given up on making noise.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine. Just a little tired,” Luke reassures the elder being, trying to sound as little croaky as possible.

“I would think so,” he responds, clearly not convinced. Without asking, he loops an arm around Luke’s shoulders, directing the two of them back the direction they’d come. The young man lets him, keeping a determined gaze on their surroundings and letting the Force fill him. Grievous is pulled after them by the other Jedi, who seems perfectly at ease despite the famous CIS general being close enough to murder him- if he had use of his limbs, that is. Even though Luke didn’t learn much about him in his lessons, he knows the Kaleesh is dangerous, always managing to escape and often taking many lives with him.

They walk quickly, towards the presence of a large group of troopers, but Luke still manages to notice there’s no one else around.

“Where’re the locals?” he asks hoarsely, swiveling his head to peer through windows and into alleys.

“We got them out just before the assault picked up. They should be waiting a little ways away from the city, but far enough away they won’t get caught in the crossfire.”

“How large are the CIS forces?”

“The what?”

“The Confederacy.” Luke is pleased to hear the rasp in his voice beginning to die a little.

“Ah. Well, we were pretty much at a stand-off until you came along. It shouldn’t take more than an hour or so to finish off the rest of the droids, and I still don’t know how you managed to best Grievous.”

“I was already manipulating the droids, so I just went for his metal. It’s rather terrifying that he’s more cyborg than Vader.” Luke internally winces at the name as it slips out, but makes sure he remains as neutral as possible in demeanor. He does receive a very curious and confused expression, but it swiftly disappears as the clone troopers come into view. He barely keeps himself from recoiling away at the sight on pure instinct.

“General!” A trooper rushes over, his armor painted yellow in several places and scuffed and dented from many battles. He comes to a halt right in front of the two Humans and the Kaleesh.

“Commander.”

Sensing the tension from the commander’s gaze, Luke steps away from the Jedi, moving back a little and coming to stand a few feet closer to Grievous. His actions are acknowledged by a glance over, before the Force-user continues speaking.

“Has Anakin checked in yet?” So his father was alive. A version of Anakin Skywalker that hadn’t yet been Darth Vader, one that was still loyal to the Jedi Order.

“Yes sir. It appears that the enemy frigates have been destroyed and General Koon is on his way down as we speak.”

“Good. And the men?”

“A few major injuries, but the rest we can treat on the go. We’ve prepped the ones that need bacta to join you on the transport.”

“Excellent. Then I want to make sure the troops are ready to move out soon. Send word to the civilians that the city is almost taken. They should be good to return by sunrise tomorrow. Help Windu with the clean-up and I’ll contact you once we’re aboard the Resolute. I’ll need to contact the Council as well.” At his last words, the auburn-haired man sends another glance towards Luke, who only just catches it. Most of his attention is on the gold-eyed glare coming from his left.

“Sir, if I may, who is that?”

“Luke Starkiller. He’s the one that took down both the droids and Grievous. I’ll be bringing him back to the Resolute with me, seeing as he needs, at the very least,” a pointed look is thrown Luke’s way, “a check-up with Kix.” Luke bristles at first, before remembering how many of the Rebels avoided medical attention unless forced to or in major need. He himself only received timely care due to Leia’s authority.

“Copy that, sir. I’ll get the troops moving.” The commander nods once, before swiftly turning on his heel and barking off orders. The clones, in yellow or purple themed armor, begin moving instantly, obviously trained well.

“Well, come along, Mister Starkiller. We’d best get moving.” The Jedi’s arm is suddenly back around his shoulders, pressing him forward. Luke is willing to let this happen, as the older man seems trustworthy, his presence filled with light. But the Force is still swirling around him, whispering directions into his mind.

The ship. The fighter. Return. Follow.

“Actually, I have my own ship. I just need to know where to go.”

“Ah, yes. The starfighter, I presume?”

“Yeah. I don’t think it’d be good to leave it in the middle of the streets, especially if the locals are coming back soon.” The duo stops, Grievous still behind them, and the Jedi regards Luke with a neutral expression. He worries for a moment that he might have to make a run for the fighter, but the anxiety fades quickly as the other being smiles warmly at him.

“If you wait to take off just yet, then I can comm you when Master Koon arrives and you can escort the transport back to the Resolute. That way you’ll know which ship it is, and-”

“-you can keep an eye on me, seeing as I’m not exactly trustworthy just yet.” He receives a small chuckle as an answer, and, surprisingly, the Jedi turns to continue heading to the landing zone. He waves once over his shoulder, a flick of his wrist in the air. Luke grins, forcing himself into motion once more and relying on the nudges of energy to find his way. He really hopes they get to the Resolute soon, seeing as he’s relatively certain that not being able to feel one’s lower half is considered bad. He assumes that the (probably) Star Destroyer is equipped with a medbay.

The starfighter is right where he left it, transparisteel raised. He leaps inside and settles down, securing himself and preparing to take off as soon as he gets the all-clear. It comes sooner than he expected, the comm blinking as the call is picked up. Luke answers without changing the settings, leaving his audio on and his feed off.

“Starkiller.”

“This is CT-5852, Stump, clearing you for escort.”

“Thanks, Stump. Liftin’ off.”

“Copy that, sir.”

Luke starts the engine up as the call drops, checking his systems before lifting the ship off the ground, retracting the landing equipment as he does so. His nav-system picks up the Republic transport���s signal, and he sidles over to it. Through the transparisteel, he can see the pilot, Stump, sitting there. The moment the trooper looks over, Luke gives him a thumbs-up, receiving one in kind. Just like flying with the other Rogues.

The Rogues. That could be fun.

Luke latches onto the transport’s comm number, punching it in and waiting for it to pick up. It does, and he can see the look he gets through the clear material. He grins with mischief, and enjoys Stump’s double-take.

“This is Stump to Starkiller.”

“Rogue Leader, reporting. Rogue One still in action. Fly high and may the Force be with you.” Laughing at the waves of confusion and amusement he can feel from the other, Luke tilts the fighter, pulling closer and performing a barrel roll around the bigger ship. He rises back to level to see the trooper holding tight to his controls. Stump looks over at him as he smirks back, and he does the maneuver again, this time staying underneath the transport and waiting. He’s a little surprised but not at all disappointed by the reaction he gets.

“Rogue Leader, bogey check,” Stump practically crows through the comm. Luke responds with an actual crow, remembering his first time being taught the phrase among the Rebellion. Hopefully it’s the same among the clones.

The fighter zips out from under the ship, rising fast right in front of it but without colliding. He spins as he rockets skyward, then diving back down, making sure to get a full view of all angles around Stump. Finally, he rushes over the top, narrowly avoiding the durasteel, and loops around to resume escort position.

“Bogey free, you are clear, Stump.”

“You are absolutely insane, Rogue Leader.”

“Aren’t we all?”

A laugh escapes over the mic, before the call is ended again. Luke’s smile shrinks to something softer, reminiscing about training flights with the Rogues. He misses those, having not had time in quite a while. But right now isn’t the time to spend remembering them. The Force clearly wants him to fix the past. Why else would he be brought back in time to when his father isn’t evil and the Jedi and the Republic are still alive? If he plays his cards right, perhaps he can save the galaxy from the Empire. Maybe even establish something similar to the Rebellion’s forces, only this time for fun or to protect planets with the aid of Core Worlds.

The transport and its impromptu escort make their way outside the atmosphere of the planet with ease. Luke pulls back a little, allowing Stump to lead him to one of the Star Destroyers. Belatedly, he realizes that the officer that commed him earlier said to ‘return’ to the Resolute, the very place where he’s now moving his fighter to dock. The landing gear descends as proper gravity once more takes hold, and Luke puts out the engines the moment the fighter settles.

Before opening the ship, he takes a moment to look around at the inside of the Destroyer. He sees a plethora of blue troopers, mixed with several yellow and red troopers. Grievous is being dragged off by several of them. Starfighters and transports and small frigates are docked all around, along with piles upon piles of crates. He sees the auburn-haired Jedi standing beside a young Togruta, the elder listening as she speaks animatedly to him. She, too, has the lightsabers and bright presence that mark her a Jedi. However, every ounce of Luke’s attention is drawn by the man that enters the hangar from the nearest entrance.

Dressed in dark robes, with dark blonde hair and a scar that travels down from his hairline to just past his eye in a straight line. His presence is bright, as bright as the two suns of Tatooine at midday. Another Jedi, but one that seems to ripple with energy, the Force swirling like a whirlpool around him. Luke recognizes him from holos Han showed him, ones saved from a Corellian childhood in the midst of the Clone Wars. The Hero Without Fear was the only thing Luke could get his friend to call the Jedi. Han had lied when he said he didn’t know the man’s real name, but Luke hadn’t pushed.

Transparisteel lifts as the unwitting time traveler finally manages to overcome his hesitation, sliding down the side of the fighter to the ground.

Almost instantly, a screeching astromech nearly barrels into him, circling him before finally hiding behind his legs and nudging them a bit harshly. Following close is a pair of yellow troopers, eyes angry but turning to shock at the sight of the singed stranger. Glancing back, Luke’s heart momentarily aches at the sight of Artoo, which he pushes aside. This version of his partner doesn’t know him yet.

“Is something wrong?” he asks innocently, moving slightly to the right to hide Artoo more. The action is noticed, as well as the clearly exaggerated expression on his face.

“That little osik zapped us!”

“What’s an oh-sik?” The troopers freeze, clearly not expecting that to be the part questioned. Slowly, as though scared Luke is going to press for an answer, the two back away, turning around after a few steps and hurrying off. Artoo trills happily at their retreat, circling around to face Luke.

[Thanks for the save. They deserved it.] Luke laughs at the familiar bluntness.

“I’m sure they did. But be careful next time.”

[I’m always careful.]

“Is that why you were hiding behind me?”

[Strategic retreat.] Luke laughs again, even though his head is once more feeling lighter than it should.

“And who’re you?” The voice draws his attention, and he turns to see the Hero Without Fear looking over at him in curiosity, as well as concern.

“Luke Starkiller.”

“So you were the mystery pilot!” the Togruta exclaims. Her voice cuts through the hangar’s overall noise, yet is ignored entirely. It likely only seems so brash to Luke because of the slight ache growing at the back of his skull.

“Mystery pilot?” Luke’s voice has suddenly returned to the hoarse rasp from before, the first Jedi’s worry seeping out at the sound. The young Togruta looks at him with a surprised expression, but returns to her previous energetic words.

“Yeah, no one recognized your fighter, but it shows up as Republic so the bridge tried to contact you. According to them, your comm wasn’t working, but you joined the battle so you definitely weren’t an enemy. And then you blew up the central command frigate, and you took down so many droids, and when the bridge tried to call you back you looked like you were heading over. But then you went down to the surface and you weren’t picking up any calls and we got word from Cody that a fighter had landed in the middle of the city. And then-”

“Breathe, Snips,” the Hero Without Fear reminds his companion. She does pause, smiling sheepishly upon realizing she’d been rapidly speeding up her speech. He chuckles at her good-naturedly, turning to face Luke with a smile not at all affected by his scar.

“Sorry about my Padawan, she gets rather excited sometimes.” Padawan. That’s what Jedi call their students.

“It’s alright,” Luke rasps back, then tries to clear his throat, forgetting his earlier attempt. He doubles over as a large coughing fit wracks his body. Someone grabs onto his arm, supporting him from the left, but he can’t tell who. There’s a faint ringing that’s growing fast, the ache from his head moving to between his eyes as well.

Suddenly, the energy that has been keeping him up drains quickly. It feels as though something is wedging itself between him and the Force, cutting off the support he’d been using since planet-side. Pain courses through him, piercing every organ and straight through his skull. He’s coughing too much to do more than gasp at the agony. Waves of numbness intersperse with the stinging, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s dropped to his knees. Whoever’s on his left grabs his shoulders, and there’s so much noise, so much light, so much-

The world goes black and silent.

[crispyjenkins]

Me again, hope you don’t mind... anyways could you do Cody and Obi wan First Meeting out of Cody’s POV and he slowly realizes that this isn’t you usual Jedi general but that Obi-Wan Kenobi is not only beautiful but also 1. Incredibly good at words 2. Actually cares about the Vode 3. For that reason dislikes fighting and casualties and actually shows his compassion to the Vode 4. Is an absolute badass and 5. Absolutely insane

(Obi-Wan defying the troopers' expectations is the reason i'm alive, and the vode being intimidated by this scary magic man only to find out he's a reckless dumbass who cares more about them than actually winning the war is just. yes. not actually sure how it happened in canon, my brain is being mean, but canon is nebulous and i do what i want. 

so here's Cody being surprised by Obi-Wan's endless love for absolutely everybody, and obi being surprised that Cody is surprised.)

  Cody is running on six hours of sleep in two days following General Rret So’s reassignment, and he isn’t even close to being finished cleaning up that... disaster. They’ve got a new batch of shinies to paint and name, bodies to bury, a new general to meet, and to be honest, Cody doesn’t have all too high hopes for their next one. It’s already kriffing clear that none of the Jedi have proper military training, and while Cody isn’t one for gossip, he’s also heard rumors that Kenobi hasn’t been in the field since Geonosis. And they want him to lead an attack battalion.

  But when Cody arrives in the hangar of their current outpost to make sure it’s in shape before Kenobi arrives, there’s a Jedi near the center of the room, sitting on the floor. Or sitting... a few inches above the floor, only one hand gently touching the durasteel below him, and Cody halts just inside the door.

  It doesn’t take much to guess his identity, what with the Jedi robe mostly pooled on the floor, whose edges drift in lazy swirls. The man has his eyes closed, several small stones levitating in equally lazy spins around him, but the casual show of power doesn’t put Cody on edge the way their Nautolan general had; the air around Rret felt like static when he meditated, but General Kenobi effuses warmth and calm, his expression as thoughtful as it is peaceful. 

  Cody skeptically takes in the armor under Kenobi’s robe, modified clone armour; General Rret never touched anything not sent directly from the Temple. And Kenobi is... smaller than Cody had expected of the famed Negotiator that had helped lead at the Battle of Geonosis, more lithe, more compact. His hair is longer than regulation (not that that has ever stopped Tup), just enough to pull back, with an endearing curl that’s escaped the elastic floating at his temple.

  Cody was created for problem solving, for analyzing patterns and information where his rank-and-file brothers could not, but all these little details just leave him confused.

  The stones gently and slowly settle back onto the ground, followed by the general as he inhales a deep breath, and that aura of tranquility does not leave when he opens his eyes. 

  And then he smiles at Cody.

  Cody snaps a salute, nerves jumping despite the general’s expression, and tries to raise his mental shields like Jango had taught them to. “General, sir,” he greets, keeping his gaze just below Kenobi’s eyes, which unfortunately has him pinned on his lips.

  “Commander Cody,” he returns warmly in High Coruscanti, rising in a fluid motion and holding out a hand. Cody stares at it for a moment before he realises General Kenobi means to shake his hand, and he almost thinks it’s a trap, but he hesitantly reaches out all the same. That smile grows as Kenobi then moves to grip Cody’s forearm like any proper Mando, tapping his other fist to the center of his chest. “It’s good to finally meet you, Commander: I’ve been assured that we will work quite well together.”

  Reeling, Cody almost forgets to respond. “Sir?”

  “I’ve heard nothing but compliments from your men, and from other battalions; Captain Rex in particular speaks very highly of you.”

  Does he know Cody was almost court martialed for arguing with General Rret? Does he know about the multiple complaints submitted by the Nautolan for insubordination? 

  The way Kenobi’s eyes crinkle at the corners doesn’t assure him that he had. “I like to get my information from multiple sources,” Kenobi explains, finally releasing Cody to tuck his arms behind his back almost at parade rest. “You’re here a bit early, aren’t you? Excellent, that gives us some time to chat before your men arrive.”

  It’s enough that General Kenobi went out of his way to learn his name, and then use it, leaving Cody absolutely helpless as Kenobi launches in questions about the cleanup from Rret’s departure.

-

  Kenobi growls like a stampeding reek as their next assault goes to kriffing shit. No sooner had Kenobi managed to greet Ghost Company, that the call to arms had blared through the outpost, a droid battalion approaching from the South. Which was something Rret had apparently anticipated but not felt the need to tell anyone, including the High Generals.

  And Kenobi had loaded up with the rest of them, speaking quickly with the pilot, and surely his general wasn’t planning on— on actually fighting with them? 

  But he had indeed leapt from the transport into the dense forest right alongside him, and Cody had realised, kriff, he has to try and keep this crazy Jedi alive long enough for him to ask what the kriff he’s thinking.

  And then things just keep going wrong, from misinformation about droid numbers, to being cornered in a ravine, to Cody having to step over a Shiny that hadn’t even been named yet. Kenobi whirls through the droids with his lightsaber, but the B1s seem to just keep coming, and Cody has almost resigned himself to dying here, because Rret would never let them change the plan this far in—

  “Commander!” Kenobi shouts, shoving a B2 droid off his ‘saber. “Full retreat! Evac is inbound, get your men to the top of the ridge!”

  “Sir?”

  Appearing at Cody’s side and handing him a fresh blaster, Kenobi’s serene expression is traded for troubled rage, but it’s by some miracle not aimed at the vode. “We’re not winning here today,” Kenobi says, jerking his chin towards the ridge as he tugs Cody behind a boulder. “We need to regroup, your medic is already overrun.”

  Which doesn’t quite compute. It’s not as if they haven’t lost entire squads in similar conditions, what does Kenobi hope to achieve by—

  “I’ll hold them off,” he says, making Cody choke on his spit. “As long as I can.”

  “General!” By the Force, he can’t honestly think that Cody will let him stay behind, that Cody will leave him here.

  “That’s an order, I’m not losing any more men today,” Kenobi says firmly. He checks around the boulder before spinning back to Cody. “I was told you were by the book, that you were a stellar soldier with his brothers’ best interest at heart. Are you going to make me a fool for believing that?”

  “General, I don’t think—”

  “I’ve given you an order, Commander. Retreat. I will meet you back at the outpost.”

  Swallowing down the urge to throw up, Cody nods and salutes, and prays to whatever deity listening that he’ll wake up tomorrow with absolutely no memory of today.

  Kenobi gives him a small smile, before reigniting his ‘saber and rushing back into the battle.

-

  Cody is just beginning to wonder if they’re going to have to get another new general when Kenobi shows up in the last search party before they call it off for the night, stepping off the transport with several more injured brothers that hadn’t made it back with the first two evacs. A squad of shinies runs up to get the stretches to the medbay that is indeed overrun, but Cody doesn’t worr— can’t worry about that right now, marching up to Kenobi with a comm disk.

  “Sir, welcome back,” he greets, taking quick stock of the minor grazes on Kenobi’s face, how limp his hair has turned, but he otherwise seems fine, which is a miracle in it of itself. “High General Mundi—”

  “Later,” Kenobi cuts him off, not unkindly, but with an air of unspeakable exhaustion. “Master Rret So restationed your secondary medics, yes?”

  “Yes, sir, but what—?”

  Kenobi nods once and starts to follow the shinies, Cody matching pace with him even as he’s sure he’s broadcasting his confusion into the Force. Kenobi offers him a tiny smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Your brothers aren’t going to last the night if I don’t go help Wupi, and you’re horrendously undermanned as it is.”

  Another name casually thrown out, as if General Rret hadn’t even bothered to learn their numbers, and if Cody wasn’t already a whirlwind of emotions, he might have some feelings about that. Later. Everything later.

  A thought occurs to him. “Sir, General Rret said they were needed elsewhere. The secondary medics.”

  They arrive at the medbay that is in utter chaos, too small to house so many vode, already filled from their last skirmish and now completely overflowing. Kenobi looks around almost as if he’s going to cry, before he clenches his jaw and turns to Cody.

  “General Rret was mistaken. I hailed the 501st from the transport, they’ll be here tomorrow afternoon, but until then, it’s my duty to keep your men alive. Can you help me do that, Cody?”

  Cody simply nods, wondering if he had been concussed during the battle. “Yes, sir. What do you need.”

  “I need every sheet you can spare, and the emergency medkits from all the transports. I need you to hold off General Mundi until morning, I know he’s expecting a long conversation. And please, tell him in no uncertain terms that I plan to have very harsh words with his former padawan as soon as the 501st arrive.” Kenobi takes a deep breath, seeming to draw energy in from everywhere, and then puts a hand on the side of Cody’s neck for the briefest moment. Almost like static shock, Cody flinches, but suddenly doesn’t feel so exhausted, and he blinks down at Kenobi.

  “That should hold you over until morning, I trust you to handle the rest of the outpost?” He raises a single brow, but kriff if Cody is going to tell him no.

  “Yes, sir.” He salutes, feeling a green warmth brushing against his mind that certainly was not there before, but belongs there all the same. 

  That warmth stays with him long after the 501st arrives with aid, and Cody intends to hold onto it for as long as his cannon-fodder life allows. 

[meridiansdominoes]

How To Scrap Battledroids

(I have decided to make this its own post entirely, so here it is! Read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24424678)

Prompt:  Anakin and The Boys make a skillshare about how to scrap battledroids but about halfway through Tup makes a hair routine class, then other troopers post their hobbies and basically thats how they win the public over to support the clones

______________________________________________________________

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the first instalment of ‘Reasons Why the 501st is the Best Battalion in the GAR’, subtitled ‘How To Scrap Battledroids’, sponsored by the Hero With No Fear himself, General Anakin Skywalker!”

General Skywalker steps into frame with a cocky smirk. The camera trails from his face down his arm to where he’s holding his lightsaber with a sure grip. 

“Today we’ll be demonstrating some of the most effective ways to absolutely demolish the B1 battle droid,” the narrator continues. The camera turns slowly, revealing several clones all around the Jedi, armed to the teeth and waiting. “The B1 battle droid, also referred to as a standard battle droid or a clanker, is the most widely used battle droid manufactured by Baktoid Combat Automata and Baktoid Armor Workshop. They’re the successor to the OOM-series battle droids. Early versions of the model required the use of a—”

“Holy kriff no one cares, Echo!” one of the clones says loudly. The narrator lets out an offended huff. The camera jerks and spins so that General Skywalker comes back into frame. The Jedi looks amused.

“Some of our viewers might appreciate a little background, Fives, shut up!”

“Force, can we get to it already? All this waiting around is driving me crazy!”

“Hardcase, calm down, exposition is important—”

“So is getting my weekly dose of adrenaline, Jesse—!”

“Okay, alright,” another clone soothes. “General, we’re waiting for your signal.”

“Thank you, Tup,” General Skywalker says, and ignites his lightsaber. “For that, I think you deserve the honor of going first.” This spurs a cacophony of groans from the others, but Tup makes a delighted sound. “Alright, on my signal. Echo, you’re in charge of making sure it all gets on camera, understand?”

“Yessir,” Echo says smartly. He pivots so that the entire group is visible—one Jedi and four clones, tense and waiting behind some sort of structure. 

“Alright, let’s go!” General Skywalker shouts, and they charge around the corner and take the platoon of battle droids that had been approaching by complete surprise. 

It’s possibly the most unfair fight the GAR has ever seen. It’s impossible for Echo to keep up with all the action. Hardcase’s Z-6 whines as it tears the droids apart. Tup and Jesse are dodging enemy blaster bolts and returning fire with fluid ease. General Skywalker is a storm of blue light and sparking clanker parts. At one point the Jedi reaches out his hand and sends Fives and Tup flying through the air with the Force so that they can attack from above. 

The fight is over in less than two minutes. It had been pure chaos, and utter destruction. The clones regroup around Echo, riled up and excited as General Skywalker comes within earshot of the camera again.

“And that,” General Skywalker says, sheathing his lightsaber with a flourish, “is how to take down a battle droid, 501st style. It doesn’t get any better than that.”

______________________________________________________________

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ve constantly been wondering, “Boy, who could possibly be better than those 501st imbeciles that showed up on the holonet a few weeks ago?” like I have recently, look no further! What takes six of the 501st’s best only takes two of the 212th!” 

“Boil, less talking, more not-dying!” someone shouts, and there’s a large explosion. The camera shakes uncontrollably for a moment, and then suddenly it steadies, half of the camera obscured by the rock that the cameraman is crouched behind. Regardless, General Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody are visible, back to back in the middle of a courtyard absolutely swarming with droids. 

“Kenobi deflects blasterbolts from every side, and oh there’s the Commander, headshots, every one of ‘em, look at the way they kriffin’ move! So in-sync, they turn together, no hesitation at all—!”

“Boil, quit the commentary and get down!”

There’s another explosion. Boil lets out a grunt of annoyance. The camera whirls. 

“Come on, I’m missing the best part!” There’s a flash of orange and white, and then Boil gets the camera back up. The droids are attempting to close in on the two combatants, but General Kenobi slashes and whirls with ethereal grace. Commander Cody lashes out with powerful kicks that shatter the droids at the joints. They’re absolutely surrounded by sparking droid parts, untouched in their little circle of safety. When there are only a few droids left, General Kenobi slashes his last opponent cleanly in half before tossing his lightsaber oh-so-casually to Commander Cody The Commander catches it out of midair without even glancing at it and beheads the very last droid with a lazy flick of his wrist. 

Boil whistles, long and low. He’s not the only one. 

“And that’s how to destroy a battle droid, 212th style,” Boil whispers gleefully as General Kenobi and Commander Cody motion for their troops to advance. “And it really doesn’t get any better than that. Suck it, 501st!”

______________________________________________________________

Captain Rex looks extremely annoyed. 

“Since the 212th really seems to think the galaxy of themselves, this is Captain Rex of the 501st, and I’m here to show you all what it really means to destroy a battle droid.”

Behind the camera, someone giggles. Commander Tano’s hand appears in the frame as she gives him a thumbs up. He shoves his helmet on and draws both DC-17s, checking them over briefly before stepping out of cover directly in front of the platoon of battle droids, determined and completely alone. He charges, pistols already releasing a steady hailfire at his opponents. 

The battle droids don’t even stand a chance. They scream and cower and attempt to escape, but it doesn’t do them any good. Commander Tano laughs so hard that the camera shakes in her hand. 

______________________________________________________________

“You know, I think that normal B1 battle droids are getting pretty old,” Commander Cody says, smirking at the camera—there’s something a bit dangerous in the expression, almost predatory. Daring their next challenger to try and top them. “So this time we’re upping our game. Super Battle Droids aren’t nearly as easy to take down as B1s, which means we have to get a bit creative.”

By ‘get creative’, Commander Cody means ‘use lots of explosives’. It’s very impressive.

______________________________________________________________

“Oh kriffing—are you serious, General?” Commander Bly makes an unamused face at the camera.

“Of course, Commander. We can’t let the 501st and the 212th have all the fun, can we?” General Secura says in amusement, the tip of one blue lek sliding into frame for an instant. “Besides, we’ve got something much better than battle droids to destroy today, don’t we?”

Bly snorts.

“The Armored Assault Tank does take a significantly larger amount of effort than any battle droid can. So are we skipping droidekas, then? I don’t think anyone’s done them yet. They seem like a more logical next step up from SBDs to me.”

“Someone else can do that,” another clone chimes in, sounding a bit excited. “Go big or go home, right General?”

“Very good,” General Secura praises. She sounds pleased. “Trooper, please explain the weak spots of the tank to our audience as Commander Bly and I take care of those two on the ridge. It shouldn’t take us long. It’s a bit far—you might have to zoom in, but it should still be plenty visible.”

“Yes sir,” a trooper agrees happily as she passes him the camera. “Don’t worry, sir. I’m sure this’ll blow the rest of the videos completely out of the water.”

General Secura grins at her Commander. She shrugs one shoulder at him and pulls her lightsaber from her belt as she turns to face the tanks. Bly’s expression softens into something that definitely isn’t meant to be seen by the camera. Then he shoves on his helmet and raises his weapon to stand at her side.

“Alright, General. Lead the way.”

______________________________________________________________

“You know, these videos aren’t just to show people how easy the Seppie droids are to blow up,” Tup says with a shrug. “You can do other stuff too, you know. Dogma, the comb please!”

Dogma dutifully passes him the comb. Tup releases his hair from the bun. It falls down around his face, far nicer than it should considering the amount of time it spends mashed underneath Tup’s bucket. Tup begins to run the comb through his hair, grimacing slightly as he carefully works out knots.

“Alright, everyone is always asking me how I keep my hair so well-maintained with the GAR’s very limited hair products. Today I’m gonna let everyone in on a couple of my most prized secrets…”

______________________________________________________________

“I absolutely will not.”

“But sir,” Comet says (his voice trembles because he’s trying to keep from laughing), “You’re the best at it! The rest of us don’t even come close!” He moves the camera a little closer to Wolffe’s face.

“I don’t give a kriff,” Wolffe deadpans. He goes back to scrolling through his datapad. Comet swipes it from his hand and passes it to Sinker as Wolffe lunges for it, who passes it back to Boost, who tucks it behind his back. Wolffe levels a ferocious glare at them. All three of them cower for a moment until Comet finds his voice again.

“Siiiirrrrr. Sir, please.”

“No.”

“Then you’re not getting your datapad back,” Boost attempts bravely. Wolffe rolls his eye. 

“What’s stopping me from just taking it from you, Sergeant?” he counters. Boost licks his lips nervously.

“I mean, it would still be just as good of a video if you did,” Sinker says, snickering. “How To Discipline your Unruly Sergeant.”

“Just once, sir!” Comet begs, focused on their original goal. “We’ll stop bothering you if you do!”

“For how long?” Wolffe asks gruffly. Comet considers. 

“Until the next deployment, sir?”

Wolffe sighs.

“Fine. But only once.”

He tips his head back and lets out a long, inhuman howl. It’s wild and fierce and absolutely terrifying. It calls warriors to the hunt, triggers something carnal in the blood of the pack. The sound echoes through the room. In the corner of the frame, Sinker bares his teeth in response. The reaction is seemingly instinctive. 

When it finally ends, Wolffe drops his chin and lifts one eyebrow at his audience. 

“Satisfied?” he huffs. Boost passes him back his datapad with a dazed grin.

“Sithspit, sir. That was… better than usual. Trying to… impress someone, maybe?”

“Get out of my office,” Wolffe growls, on the defensive. “Get that camera out of my face, or I’ll have you running laps in the gym until your brains melt out of your skulls.”

“But sir! Now you have to explain how you did it! That’s what these videos are technically for after all!”

Wolffe loses his patience. He lunges. The camera gets swung around until everything is a blur. There’s a flash of grey, a hint of white, a snarl. Comet lets out an embarrassing shriek. The video cuts to black a moment later.

______________________________________________________________

General Windu is weaponless and surrounded, but that doesn’t stop him from utterly decimating every clone that gets within five feet of him. No one can even touch him. He dodges their attacks like he already knows their every move. He probably does. He flows and shifts like water around their attempts to take him down, even when they team up and pull out all the stops. Commander Ponds, hands steady as he films, chuckles mercilessly whenever General Windu successfully tosses someone aside. 

“There’s not really anything to explain here, we just wanted to demonstrate how cool our Jedi is. Mace can take on half the battalion bare handed and he barely even breaks a sweat.”

“Commander, are you actually going to help us or are you just going to sit there and watch us suffer?” a shiny yelps, two seconds before he gets his feet swept out from under him and goes down with a curse. Ponds laughs again. 

“No thanks, kid. I learned the hard way that what you’re trying to do is impossible.”

“Maybe you just never tried hard enough, sir,” Stak grits out, shoving the staggering shiny towards the edge of the mat. He charges Windu head on. It looks foolish until Ponds spots Razor coming in from behind the Jedi. He’s moving as silently as possible. Ponds shifts the camera accordingly so that all three of them are in frame. 

For half a second, it looks like General Windu won’t be able to block both of them.

Well, it appears that way. General Windu ducks low, twists so that he gets right into Stak’s personal space. Stak tries to grab him, but General Windu just uses his momentum to whirl him around and send him crashing into Razor. Their helmets clunk together with a hollow sound. They go down hard.

The onlookers cheer in excitement. General Windu has the smallest of smirks on his face as he settles back into a fighting stance and waits for the rest of the clones to make a move. 

“And that’s why our Jedi is the best,” Ponds says smugly. The next ten minutes of the video is General Windu successfully incapacitating the rest of his challengers. 

(The video is well-received by the general public but poorly received by the rest of the GAR.)

(“Respectfully, the 212th would like to submit this video to demonstrate why General Kenobi is actually the best—”)

(”The entire 91st can go kriff themselves, watch General Skywalker hijack these STAPs  in midair and you’ll know that the 501st obviously has the best Jedi—”)

(“The 327th resents everything that the 91st’s most recent video claimed and declares that Ponds has no kriffing idea what he’s talking about, General Secura is obviously a better choice, here are ten reasons why—”)

(“General Plo Koon can fight in space. I don’t see General Windu doing that, here are the clips from the 104th’s most recent zero-grav drills—”)

______________________________________________________________

When Commander Fox steps into the room, the men have the decency to look sheepish. Fox takes everything in slowly—the camera in Byte’s hand, the way Thorn and Thire are standing together shoulder to shoulder, hiding the failed project behind them, the scattered nuts and bolts all over the floor. The multitool in Stone’s hand. He drags one hand down his face and takes a deep breath. 

“You told me it was an emergency, Thorn.”

“It is an emergency, Fox! Listen, we even brought you caf because we knew you’d be annoyed,” he holds the steaming cup up as he speaks in a desperate attempt to make peace, “and there’s no way we’re going to figure this out ourselves!”

Fox plucks the caf out of Thorn’s hand and sighs again.

“What is it, then?”

“Well…” Thire drawls slowly. Fox narrows his eyes impatiently. 

“What the kriff is so important and difficult that three of my fellow officers couldn’t figure it out on their own?”

“To be fair, sir,” Stone says good-naturedly, “it’s far more difficult than we thought it would be.”

Thire and Thorn step away to reveal… a piece of furniture. A bench, only halfway assembled, innocent looking enough. Fox stares at it blankly for a few moments. Byte zooms in on his face enthusiastically. 

“We were going to demonstrate how to make it, for the video thing that half the GAR seems to be doing right now,” Thorn explains weakly. “But… it’s confusing. There’s even instructions but they don’t really help.”

Fox drains the cup of caf. He squares his shoulders. 

“Force save me. Are you kidding? Give me the kriffing instructions. This is ridiculous.”

(It takes them two more hours to get the bench set up. Fox misses a meeting. Byte edits the final video to include the bulk of the angry tirades and all of the snark. Public relations improve to an all-time high almost overnight.)

______________________________________________________________

(“The clones are not people. They are soldiers created for a single purpose,” some of the Senate attempt to protest. This argument does not last long, mostly because the civilians who have been eagerly following the videos that the clones have been releasing over the course of several months start to riot in protest. 

Padme Amidala and Bail Organa take great pleasure in bringing the videos before the Senate to prove to them that the clones are indeed soldiers but also individuals who laugh and cry and live just as any other citizen of the Republic does.

In the wake of the unshakable evidence and the rioting, there is little the opposition can do to stop the Clone Rights Bill from being passed, and the entire Republic celebrates.)