#Trooper we are in the middle of battle!

[beardedalcoholic]

Battle Gods

First Medical officer of the Galactic Union Revka Jihar looked on in awe as the human zipped from one console to other.

Sliding her chair from one side of the room to the other only to go back she displayed a true mastery of her job. Coordinating rank upon rank of human shock trooper forces into position, confirming approval of Human Medium Force Allowed, checking and double checking the health status of hundreds of humans, receiving reports from multiple divisions of engineers and mechanics about the status of one drop group or another…it was overwhelming to the Kalarian to watch.

“Shock Troopers stand by to stand by for final approval on drop, med squads confirm ready stations for injured, eng corps get those fucking launch tubes in the green before I come down there and fire you out one by one until I am satisfied my boys won’t hit atmo looking like strawberry jam, Hell Jumpers get to your pods and strap in we have yellow light on drop and I am not waiting for any Late Lucys should we get green.”

The rapid-fire communication of the humans had never ceased to amaze Revka, how they could say so much with so few words using only inflection, context, tone, body language and a myriad of other factors that they themselves seemed un-aware of.

Keys rattled like gunfire beneath First Rank Orbital Shock Drop Coordinator Amelia Hargrove’s nimble fingers, screens bloomed in thin air only to be replaced by others as they were dismissed. Within barely a handful of human minutes Frist Rank Hargrove sat back limply in her chair with her arms hanging down the sides as she breathed deeply in seeming exhaustion, Revka knew better though, he had seen this human go cycles without rest or nutrition.

An alert from the single remaining screen in front of the human grabbed her attention and her head snapped up from its slumped over position, the gleam of anticipation and sudden movement reminding Revka of the humans’ predatory lineage. Jumping to her feet with enough force to send her division command chair sliding back on tracks laid into the floor to the edge of the large room they occupied Amelia commed the captain of the ship.

“Captain Shelsa, Shock Trooper Command…I have green on all drop requirements, personnel and approval…Awaiting Final Command.”

Amelia Stood disturbingly still and focused as she awaited the order from her captain to release the humans upon the world beneath them. Revka stood in the back of the room next to the abandoned chair, furiously making notes upon his digital clipboard without even looking down at it.

Being the first species other than human to witness the deployment of Shock Troopers into an active battle field Revka was not about to miss a single documentable moment of what he was witnessing. The tension in the air radiating from the human in the middle of the large room was almost enough to choke him, the human had not moved in the slightest since her last communication, her muscles seemed to bunch beneath her skin tight command suit as the micro-cycles slid by, until…

“Shock Command, Captain Shelsa…you are green for trooper drop, repeat you are green for drop…Amelia!” First Rank Hargrove’s head snapped up at the sound of desperation and pain in the captain’s voice.

“Yes Captain? I am here.”

“…Amelia, these, monsters attacked earth…they struck down schools and hospitals…these invaders took my baby girl from me without warning or reason given…invoke the Battle Gods….”

First Rank Amelia went dead silent and painfully rigid from this last command. It was well known humans had music for all occasions and that they would perform different tasks with more or less efficiency depending on if music was being played to them and depending on the task or musical selection.

Revka felt his feathers bleach of all color at the last command…it was not a command given with hopes of leaving survivors, the Battle God Queen was something of a legend among different species due to the effect said music had on humans…but these last words were spoken with such cold venom Revka had to grip the deck plates with his talons to keep himself from bolting in fear. Revka watched as the Orbital Shock Drop Coordinator calmly answered in the affirmative, slipped an Augmented Reality Visor over her eyes and seemed to deflate as tension left her body.

Walking to the middle of the room First Rank Amelia began to glow softly as synaptic relays lit up across her suit, lines of light racing from her toes to her visor and everywhere in between, muscles slid with liquid grace beneath her suit as she stalked forward.

It started gently…hands lifting to flow through screens only she could now see through her visor…hands and arms moving like the conductor of a symphony Revka had seen on earth. With each movement a new small screen came to life around Coordinator Amelia, each screen containing a new face…the faces of her boys…the faces of humanities most feared ground-based battle troops…the Orbital Shock Troopers known only as the Hell Jumpers.

No words were spoken at first, Amelia simply stood there under the gaze of over five hundred trained, battle hardened, soldiers. Soldiers that were about to be dropped from orbit onto a planet light years away from home into a raging warzone with nothing but a small pod made to break away on impact to protect them from the heat and violence of atmospheric entry. None looked scared, no tears were shed in fear or pain, this was simply another good day to die for these individuals Revka realized.

“Kikiki! Kakaka!” The suddenness of Coordinator Amelia’s cry and movement nearly had Revka molting a full tails worth of feathers. Amelia slammed one foot down to her side so that she was bent at the knees.

“Kauana kei waniwania taku tara” Hands slapped into her thighs and stomach muscles in time to her chant.

“kei tarawahia, kei te rua i te kerokero!” Feet stomped and hands slapped as she continued her chant, voice raising to echo throughout the room.

“He pounga rahui te uira” Amelia’s voice rang with a clarion call to battle, it vibrated with the rage of an entire race that had been wronged as she raised a fist and slapped her arms.

“ka rarapa ketekete kau ana” Revka felt sorry for himself as he watched the display before him as he had not thought to make arrangements for his newly born clutch of whelps should he perish on this mission.

“To peru kairiri mau au e koro e!” Looking at the many images of the Shock Troopers arrayed before and around the still stamping and chanting Coordinator Revka could see that each one was focused upon her with a burning intensity.

” Hi! Ha! - Ka wehi au ka matakana,” Eyes narrowed, teeth were bared in rictus smiles, pulses throbbed in necks, nostrils flared in anticipation as the chanting grew somehow louder and more fervent.

“ko wai te tangata kia rere ure tirohanga” First Rank Amelia stamped and pounded her feet into the ground as if to defy fate to move her, as if she was seeing the future and challenging it to be anything other than what she demanded it to be.

“ngā rua rerarera” Hands slapped and struck with force that would shatter the bones of Revka’s species like she was trying to beat reality into submission and bend it to her will.

“ngā rua kuri kakanui i raro! Aha ha!” With one final strike First Rank Orbital Shock Drop Coordinator Amelia Hargrove let loose a sound that would haunt Revka’s rest cycles for the rest of his life.

The sound that echoed throughout the room seemed to contain all the suffering that had been felt at the hands of the enemy, all the pain of loss and the rage of those who could not do anything to seek retribution for those wronged. Screens lit up as each trooper dropped from the belly of the ship into the planet’s gravity well, each and every face pulled into a mask of rage and determination beneath face shields snapping into position.

Revka thought that perhaps the spectacle was over now that the humans had been sent planet side…until Coordinator Amelia’s arm snapped out and with a few deft movements brought up a simple non-standard screen.

The media screen floated barely a hairs breadth from the end of Amelia’s finger tips as she scrolled down a list of songs. With little more than a thought a song was selected and broadcasted to every shock trooper, soldier and crewman.

Drums beat and strings were plucked with a sense of anger lurking behind the sounds, after only a few seconds of this First Rank Amelia began to sing in a tone of voice unlike anything Revka had heard from the normally bubbly and flirty Coordinator, like gravel grinding in honey and rising into an angry cry tinged with desperation.

I feel the pressure is building in me

 My stomach's sick, it's getting harder to breathe

 I hear the screaming, I feel the disease

 It's burning me up and there is nothing to breathe

Will you crawl with me

 Will you stand with me

Would you follow me

Would you believe with me

Tell me you'll breathe with me,

 tell me you'll die with me

Come on, get on, let me hear your war cry!

Come on, get on, let me hear your war cry!

Come on, get on, let me hear your war cry!

Yell it out, do or die

Let me hear your war cry!

The battle that followed after the start of this terrifying song was less a battle and more a chaotic slaughter of the enemy. Humans that had been forged of star matter and tempered over eons of living on a death world and driven by madness channeled from a world in pain through musical Battle Gods dark and ancient tore across the land. They fell from the skies in gouts of flame like avenging angles come to strike down the very gates of Hell, no enemy was spared, no mercy given nor asked.

The battle had been long and hard, the final count of the dead had come out to one hundred and seven troopers lost out of over five hundred…a small number but one that was felt like a hammer blow among those that knew them.

Revka had stayed and watched the entire time as Coordinator Amelia somehow split her attention between directing troop movements and battle plans all while continuing to dance and sing to various songs of battle and victory. When the final call of victory came over the open channels the music was allowed to stop and First Rank Amelia fell still. Her arms hung limp at her sides…screens showing haggard and haunted faces of her soldiers, her troopers, her boys signing off one by one as they went to seek medical aid or further orders, synaptic relays dimming from a fiery blaze to a pale glow until they too fell silent and dark.

Revka walked slowly from his position in the back of the room towards the silent and still figure of the human known among the crew as Battle Siren…the one human who was expected to endure the responsibility of coordinating hundreds of war machines, who was given authority to make decisions in battle and who had to carry the weight of those decisions. As he got closer Revka noticed a new taste on the air, sharp and salty…not sweat, he didn’t have sweat glands and the skin suit Amelia was wearing prevented her body from needing to sweat…tears? Yes, Revka could taste the salt of tears on the air.

Slowly coming around to face the Battle Siren Revka was somewhat surprised to find a river of tears slowly falling from under the AR visor. With a deep breath as if she was emerging from deep waters Amelia lifted the visor from her tear-soaked eyes and seemed to stare through the bulkheads and deep into the void, then in a soft whisper she said a single sentence that would be taken to the Galactic Council and repeated again and again among those who thought to strike out against the humans.

“They sowed the wind with their strike against our young and injured…so too did they reap the hurricane of our vengeance.”

With that single sentence spoken a new sound began to emanate from the Coordinator, a long drawn out note not unlike the tune of a bell. Revka backed away and made his way out of the room, the Battle Siren had begun to sing a new song but not one of war and conquest, rather a song of pain and history filled with conflict but also about seasons changing and hope prevailing. The humans may have had a great pantheon of voices to channel inspiration from when going into battle, but so too did it seem that they had ones for peace and healing.

[phoneycam]

(brainrot 5(?))))

Soulmates experience the same nervous or involuntary tics at the same time.

It all starts as an innocent inside joke from the 212 troopers. How their high officer where the best and one of the key proves of it was how in tune they are with eachother. That thought slowly evolved with every interaction they were able to witness until it turned into a kind of game, trying to understand just how deep the synchrony went. Space bingo if you will.

1.

Ever since he decided to have a beard, he touches it. at first it was because of the new sensation, later to show it of as one should do, then to display knowledge in hopes to seem more wise and finally evolving in his "in deep thoughts" pose.

It was on the early battles when it first happened. The clones weren't comfortable enough yet to being openly without their buckets and so, the moment both officers moved to rest their chin on their hand, Cody hit his helmet causing him to make an aborted movement pretending that he was trying to adjust it when the general turns to look at him. There is a pregnant pause around the holotable before Obi-Wan turns back to the holotable and the commander has to survive the rest of the meeting with the constant snickers from his brothers inside his helmet.

2.

In times of high stress situations he tends to scratch the back of his head, particularly the place where his padawan braid was, an unconscious tick he picked first from his time in Melidaan. He got to overcome it over the years when he came back to the temple, only to pick it back up after Qui-Gon died and he became a knight.

The first time the troopers note it is in Christophsis. Anakin is being he's usual reckless self causing Obi-Wan the go grey early with his invisible ship against a hole separatist fleet, and he doesn't even realize he's hand moving up to pass it over the back of his head, nor that his commander repeated the exact same movement at the exact same time, too distracted with the fight in sight. The other troopers on the bridge however? they did notice.

3.

This one happened before they where about to land in a highly unknown planet with an astonishing lake of information. They were walking into a trap, not that they knew at the time that.. or well.. not until both General and Commander deepened their frowns and mumbled quietly "I have a bad feeling about this". This time they did notice it tho and turned to look at eachother with a surprised look while the soldiers around them are gapping with a collective thought of "Oh kark we are so doomed" and "lmao check another one for the team."

4.

A defect of using a helmet for so long, is that you start forgetting how to keep a straight face and our dear commander, starts slipping his controlled mask especially when faced with stupid decisions. This is one of the main reasons him and Anakin do not get allong well. Because one of the first times they were all reunited strategizing their next move, Anakin decided to offer his brilliant idea and almost cried when faced with the pure power of the combined disgust Obi and Cody were inadvertently showing.

Ahsoka and Rex thought it was hilarious, Obi-Wan had to apologies multiple times before his formed padawan stopped sulking and demanding Obi-Wan to spend less time with his commander and the rest of the troopers just checked another mark.

5.

Kamino has never and will never be an easy place to live in. The facility was a nightmare and no one knew this better than the clones themselfs, between the kaminioan, the trainers and the Alpha batch, life was a challenge and any little quirk can be a dead sentence if you're not careful enough. Cody knows this and learns to deal with it.

It's in the middle of a peace negotiation with the local authority when they noticed it.

It was a small group for this mission, just Cody, Obi-Wan, Boil and Waxer accompanying a Coruscant team of negotiators. The prime minister of the planet was being unpleasant during the whole meeting, with nasty comments, senseless demands and baseless accusations towards eveyone. All bark, no bite.

The jedi was leading the negotiations putting him in front of everyone with the commander by his side; Waxer and Boil standing just behind them notice a pattern pretty quickly. Everytime the minister said something bad about the jedi or the clones, both of their officers would each start drumbeating their fingers with their thumb. A small thing that no one else could notice because their hands were behind their backs, but remarkable enough for the troopers witnessing it as a checkable tic.

6.

Dex notice the next one.

Obi-Wan likes to take every clone he can to visit Dex's reastaurant at least once, but the most regular companion is always the cammander. Not that it bothers him, in fact, he is rather fond of the good commander, but he can't help but notice how everytime the principal door opens a little bit harder than needed, they both will tense up and inmediatelly look at eachother.

And yeah idk, i just think it's neat as an idea. I can imagine a lot more of little scenes like these. Maybe some time latter both realize, maybe they know, maybe they will purposely start doing some to just mess with the troops, maybe it would save the galaxy somehow... just saying..

[elslittlestories]

Since when our favorite squad has been in active duty ?

Sharing this to add up to @miss-musings 's very detailed analysis of The Bad Batch timeline. If you haven't read the post, I highly recommand it! See link bellow:

Thanks to a piece of dialogue between Wrecker and Tech, we know their last detachment lasted 180 days (205, if you adjust to galatic zones change but I'm not gonna consider that because I want the number of days they actually lived)

Wrecker also tells us that during those 180 days, they executed and succeded 11 missions.

Which gives us an average duration of 16,4 days per mission.

During that scene in the baracks, we also catch a glipse of the board where they keep track of their missions. I've counted 11 groups of 5 tally marks, so 55 missions.

There are 2 possible sources of error here, because 1- I'm assuming the shot pans through the whole board but there could be more marks that we don't see, and 2 -Since it's been said they have a 100% rate of success in The Clone Wars episodes, I consider it's stil the case and that all the missions are marked on the board

With the average lenght of 16,4 days per mission, that leads us to 902 days. So roughtly

2,5 years

(Note: it is my understanding that a standard year in Star Wars is 368 days, so really close to our year)

From Wookepedia, I place the event surrounding order 66 and the creation of the Empire and therefore the first episode of The Bad Batch in the middle of the year 19BBY

"The anniversary of the Empire's creation was celebrated yearly, on the twenty-third day of the fifth month using the Great ReSynchronization (GrS) dating system based on Coruscant."

Clone Force 99 would have been promoted and sent in active duty at the beginning of year 21BBY.

To try and place it in the Clone wars timeline, that would be about a year after the battle of Geonosis (beginning of the war) but before the attack on Kamino that lead to 99's death (TCW S3E2 Arc Troopers).

I like that because I headcanon the Domino squad was propably training on Kamino around the same time and that they are close in age. I'd like to think they got to interact together thanks to 99...

Let me know if you think this make sense or if you came up with another number!

[stevestevesstuff]

We are meant to be expendable | Captain Rex x jedi!reader

Summary: you get hurt during a mission while saving Rex and some of his brothers.

Warnings: angst, bomb going of, mentions of injury, shitty ending lol

"What the kriff were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed out there!"

Rex was mad, really mad. You did not have to concentrate on the lingering feeling of the force to know that.

"Please Rex, could you lower your voice a little? My head is killing me..."

"It would not hurt that much if you didnt throw yourself infront of a BOMB!"

-

During the mission to free a planet from seperatist forces, you and a few men from the 501st got cornered and caught in the middle of a crossfire. While the troopers tried to shoot as many, as they called them, clankers as possible and you deflecting blaster shots as fast and precise as you could, you noticed one of the droids holding something. It was definitely NOT a blaster, but from the distance, you were not sure what it could be.

As you looked again, that particular droid was gone.

It must have been your mind playing games on you. After all, this situation you were in was quite stressful and chaotic.

The fight continued for a few more minutes, blaster shots were exchanged and your concentration slowly but surely left you alone. Suddenly, you felt something hit the ground right next to Rex, Fives and Echo.

From that moment on, everything happened in slow motion.

You looked over to them, then at the round thing laying on the ground next to them. It was a bomb.

While still deflecting some shots, you ran as fast as you could to reach them in time. You tried to warn them about the danger, but your shouts were swallowed by the thundering sounds of the ongoing battle. As your last solution, you force pushed them out of the way and tried to get infront of them to keep them safe from the coming explosion.

This action earned you confusing looks from the ARC troopers and your captain, but there was no time for you to notice. The moment you stepped infront of your men, the bomb went of. In a matter of mere seconds, the explosion hit everything and everyone around you. The troopers were send flying through the air and you were flying with them.

The moment you could sense the ground underneath you, your head hit something hard. Then, everything went black

-

The only thing you could hear was a loud and already annoying ringing sound right in your ears.

You were still feeling too weak to open your eyes but still tried to find some orientation without them. Obviously you couldnt.

The ringing in your ears plus the thundering beating of your heart hindered you from hearing anything around you. After a few seconds, you gave up and tried to concentrate on your body and on how it was feeling.

Your hand.

Your right hand to be more specific.

It felt heavier then your left one.

You concentrated a bit more on that heavy feeling on your hand until you could make out the fact, why it was heavier.

Someone was holding it.

Pretty tightly that is.

With the last bit of strength left in your body, you forced yourself to open your eyes.

You were met with a bright and blinding light that made you close your eyes immediately again.

You waited a little until you tried again, this time, way slower.

You let out an unvoluntarily groan as your eyes started hurting from the light. But, you were able to keep them open.

The moment that groan left your mouth, you could feel the grip on your hand tighten and someone stirring right next to you.

As you tried to make your eyes familiar with the light and your surroundings, you could hear a faint voice.

"General? General are you alright? Medic! We need a medic! Shes awake!"

Rex. Rex was with you. You would recognise that voice anytime, even with an irritating ringing in your ears.

You moved your head in his direction and tried to sit up in your bed, but a crushing pain in your head made you lie down again.

"Woah, slow there, General."

Your eyes found Rex's face. The look of concern painted over his features. His eyes were blown wide, his eyebrows furrowed a little. But hidden underneath was a sliver of relief, or maybe a big sliver.

"Wha...what happened?", you managed to croax out.

"You...you jumped infront of a bomb. You saved us, General."

Before you could answer, Kix came rushing down the aisle of the medbay with a Med-droid following close behind.

They checked your vitals, your eyes and ears, then asked you some questions you barely remember.

Everything happened under the watchfull eyes of your Captain, which in the meantime let go of your hand. If he didnt, his brother would be nagging him about it for a long time.

After Kix was finished, he gave you some quick infos about what would happen next.

You were on bed rest for at least 2 weeks, you insisted that you wouldn't need them, but right in that moment, your head betrayed you and started hurting a little more. You let out yet another groan, then Kix left, giving you a 'I told you so' look.

Once you were alone, you moved your head in the direction of Rex, who was already looking at you with a look you could not quite figure out. A shaky breath left his lips as he opened them to say something.

"What were you thinking...?"

"What?"

It was a whisper which you couldnt understand due to the still present ringing in your ears.

"What the KRIFF were you thinking!"

You flinched a little. You have never, NEVER, seen him so angry.

"You could have gotten yourself killed!"

""Please Rex, could you lower your voice a little? My head is killing me..."

"It would not hurt that much if you didnt throw yourself infront of a BOMB!"

You wanted to answer, to get back at him with a snaky remark, but you couldnt. He left you literally speechless. Was he angry because you safed him and his brothers from their definite death?

"Wha...what was i supposed to do? Let you get blown up?"

"YES! Kriff...you are not supposed to put your life on the line for someone like us...for someone like me..."

The last part was barely above a whisper. He turned his head away so he wouldnt have to look at you.

This took you aback. What was he talking about? Was he serious?

"What do you mean with 'people like me'?"

You gave him some time to answer, but as he still hasnt looked at you nor said a word, you lifted your arm slowly to caress his cheek.

At first he stiffened at the unfamiliar feeling of your hand on his cheek, but after mere seconds, he leaned his head against you touch, fully submerging in the warmth of it.

"Rex, talk to me. What did you mean?"

He inhaled sharply as he turned his head around to look at you again.

"What i meant is...we are clones, sir. We were bread for this exact purpose, to serve in battle. We were also bread to die, as harsh as it sounds. One of us dies, a few thousand are coming to take his place. You on the other had...your life is way more worthy as mine will ever be. As i said, we are clones...we are meant to be expendable."

Once again, the captain has left you speechless. Thats what he was thinking about himself? About his brothers?

No.

No one thinks about themselves that way. It was drilled into their minds. Not only by the Kaminoans, but also by your fellow jedi and politicians.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didnt even notice, that Rex was about to leave. A small panic rose inside of you. You couldnt let him go after what he just said to you.

"Rex! Wait! What are you doing?...please stay..."

You mustered some strengh to sit up and still reach his arm in time. The pain that shot through your body was screaming at you to lay back down, but as you met the captains teary eyes, it was forgotten.

You pulled him back to sit down in the chair next to you again. But as he was sat, you still did not let go of his arm. Instead, you moved your hand towards his and held it.

"I...I dont know how you must be feeling about...about the thing you just told me. I cant imagine it, but to me, your life is just as valuable as any other. I dont care if you are a clone or a jedi or...or even a droid. You have feelings, you have a personality. Your life is important. Your...your life is everything to me..."

As Rex heard the last sentence, his eyes snapped towards yours. It seemed like he didn't believe you at first, but the longer he looked into your eyes, he noticed the truth and honesty behind your words.

"You dont have to say anything but...I feel like its time to speak my mind. I woud do it again. One hundred percent. I would jump infront of a hundred bombs, just to know you are safe and ALIVE. That doesn'tjust apply to you, but also your brothers. But...especially to you..."

You smiled slightly as you said the last words.

By the looks of it, the captain infront of you was dumbfounded. It took him a minute to process your words, but as he let them go through is head, he realised what you meant. At least he hoped so.

He searched your face for anything that told him otherwise, though he couldnt find it. Your eyes screamed sincerity, there was nothing that could deny that.

With your hand still in his, he leaned forward. He was just inches from your face, you could feel his breath on your lips.

"Just so you know...I would do the same for you, General."

He looked at your lips, then back into your eyes as if he was asking for consent. You nodded slightly and with that, his lips connected with yours.

[tossawary]

The Battle of Geonosis in "Attack of the Clones" as storyboarded in the films makes the Jedi look... really incompetent. Like, the way that the filmmakers designed this action sequence for audience enjoyment make it look like the Jedi really didn't have an actual plan going into this fight.

Mace Windu gets the DROP on Count Dooku before the battle starts. The Jedi surround the Arena without prior detection and then jump into it. Mace Windu could have tried to take Dooku hostage first, maybe? Dooku is a Jedi Master, so maybe containing him isn't feasible, sure, but Mace and the other Jedi Masters could have instead focused on taking the Separatist leaders there hostage and arresting them for conspiracy against the Republic?

They could have dropped a single shielded ship into the middle of the arena and tried to extract Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padmé first, maybe? Okay, I don't know a lot of extraction techniques, fine! But sending dozens of unarmored Jedi to jump INTO a death arena to be surrounded and killed off like that seems like... a bad tactic. Like... you're just giving them... more hostages... who are being shot at from all sides...

This whole thing makes it so that the Republic's invasion of Geonosis (the Jedi's invasion!) really kickstarts the war. Which is, yes, Palpatine's plan. It's the point. But WOW, the film presents a sequence Jedi really just... invaded a planet without any coherent attack plan, it looks like? The storyboarding feels clumsily executed here if it wasn't meant to look like the Jedi are fumbling the situation. I have to feel like the poor clone troopers following were watching this happen like, "Oh, Force, we're all going to fucking die, aren't we?"

[badbatchposts]

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy

Happy Bad Batch Eve! I'm obsessed with the new season but the content isn't coming out fast enough so I felt like I needed to write my own.

Tech's not dead and Crosshair rejoins the team partway through Season 2 after Mayday's death rather than being imprisoned by the Empire, but this is otherwise canon-compliant. No Season 3 spoilers.

Fic Summary: While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Chapters posted 1-2x weekly!

Chapter One

“We will be landing on the outskirts of the city ruins shortly. Scanners indicate that it is abandoned, but there is an Imperial outpost located ten klicks East, in the next valley over. This should be a relatively simple operation: make our way to the city center, locate the cargo, and return to the Marauder.” Tech was at the controls of the ship as usual, setting them down in an open, overgrown area where the ruins of the city—little more than rubble and scrap now, haphazardly heaped stoneworks and scorched earth where once there had been homes, streets, marketplaces—were fewer and further between. The remaining members of the squad did their final checks of their equipment, adjusting armor and securing weapons as the hatch hissed open. Wrecker was the first out.

“Woah. What happened here?” The largest member of the squad looked around incredulously. The destruction was not recent; a thick layer of soot, grime, and overgrown weeds was evidence of the neglect that the ruins had been left to. It did not seem that anyone was deeply interested in rebuilding.

Tech had the answer, as always. “A particularly destructive battle toward the end of the war. The city was occupied by Separatist forces. Citizens who were unable to evacuate before the droids moved in were held in a makeshift camp on the North side of town. Luckily, this means that many of them made it out alive once the Republic regained the territory. Their homes…were less lucky.”

Crosshair, Hunter, and Echo followed the pair down the ramp. “What cargo could there even be left to recover in all this?” Crosshair asked skeptically. His voice, as usual, dripped equal parts disdain and boredom.

“Cid’s intel says mostly expensive droid parts,” Echo intervened. “The town had a factory. When the Separatists occupied it, they planned to begin shipping the parts off-world to help with production of their army. The Republic moved in too quickly for them; the factory was destroyed, but the crates were being housed underground awaiting cataloging. As far as Cid’s source knows, they’re still there.”

Hunter looked thoughtful. “Anything to worry about with that Imperial outpost, Tech?”

“Doubtful,” the other replied, examining his datapad. “The cargo is not significant enough to merit their attention, and forces are largely dedicated to patrolling a nearby spaceport, where it would seem most of the refugees have relocated.”

Hunter nodded seriously. “Alright then. Crosshair, get a good vantage point on the hilltop where you can keep an eye on us and any activity from the outpost coming our way. Everybody else, let’s locate that cargo.”

Their forces divided, the rest of the squad beginning to pick their way among the ruins toward the city center, while the slender sniper hiked in the opposite direction. The hills were dotted with trees—not heavily forested, but enough cover for him to dig in and wait. Soon, he crested the peak, settling in at a good vantage point where he could watch the outpost in the middle distance through his scope. Activities at the facility were regular and rhythmic; troopers on patrol, units coming and going from the nearby spaceport. Nothing extraordinary.

“In position. All clear,” he reported over his comm.

“Acknowledged,” came Hunter’s reply. With any luck, the others would retrieve the cargo within a number of hours. He waited, patient and disinterested. He was good at waiting.

Some time later, his comm crackled to life again with a status update. “Cargo located.” It was his turn to acknowledge their progress. For a brief moment, he thought idly about whether he preferred missions like this one—smooth, uncomplicated, if a little boring—or those where everything seemed to go right to shit. At least, he smirked to himself wryly, the latter required more significant use of his skills.

When he heard the screeching sound of failing engines and saw the dark plume of smoke trailing behind the ship on its downward trajectory, all he could think was that the galaxy must have been listening in on him.

It crashed down northeast of his position, the impact of the wreckage echoing out across the valley. The response on his comm came through almost immediately.

“What the hell was that, Crosshair?”

“Downed Imperial shuttle. Drawing attention from the outpost now. Get moving.”

“Well, with any luck that’ll keep them occupied long enough for us to get outta here. Stay outta sight,” Hunter replied. Crosshair shifted his scope from the troopers mobilizing at the outpost toward the crash site, just in time to see a woman emerge from the ship, coughing in the smoke. He had expected a detachment of troopers to come stumbling from the wreckage, not a lone woman. She was human, silver haired, staring back at the shuttle with a look halfway between rage and despair. She slammed her fist against the ship’s hull in frustration, and he smirked a little as she winced, rubbing her hand in pain. She ducked back into the ship, emerging momentarily, pulling a poncho over her head as she strapped a blaster to her hip and pulled on a pack.

He scanned the area around her as she began marching south from the crash, glancing furtively in all directions. She was heading on a trajectory that would intersect any moment with two troopers on speeder bikes. She was moving too slowly, limping a little. This should be interesting, he thought dryly. He was sure the Empire were very welcoming to unauthorized crash landings of stolen shuttles near their facilities.

When the woman and the troopers came face to face, he could only imagine the dialogue accompanying the silent pageant he could see through his scope. The woman slowly raised both hands, throwing a flattering, charming smile at the troopers. She thought she could talk her way out of it, he reasoned. So the flash of the blaster bolt caught him by surprise when she snaked one of her hands behind her head, grabbing a concealed weapon off her shoulder, and fired off a shot.

“Is that blaster fire, Crosshair?!” Hunter demanded over the comm.

“Not mine,” he replied calmly.

“Then who?!”

The round had caught one of the troopers in the chest, toppling him off the speeder bike. The woman took advantage of the confusion to dive for cover behind a tree, exchanging fire with the remaining trooper. What she couldn’t see, of course, were the other half dozen Imperials making their way toward her position. Any moment now, she’d be surrounded.

“Status?” Crosshair queried over the comm.

“Making our way back to the Marauder.”

The woman managed to get a good shot in on the remaining trooper, and he toppled to the ground. However, just as she made a dash for the speeder bikes, two green bolts flashed by, wrecking her getaway vehicles and forcing her to dive once more, losing the smaller blaster. She recovered quickly, unholstering the larger piece at her hip and taking shots at the oncoming troopers as she ran for cover again. It was pointless, he thought. She didn’t stand much chance of escape, alone, on foot. Not this close to the outpost.

From his vantage point, he could see the troopers fanning out, boxing her in. She had the hillside to her back; the elevation would slow down her retreat, even if she could keep up enough cover fire to out-maneuver the speeder bikes. And—the only part that mattered to him—she ran the risk of drawing Imperial attention to the adjoining valley before they finished loading up the marauder.

However, before he could further consider the implications of her retreat, he saw her move to fire off another shot from around her cover. In the brief moment she was exposed, a blaster bolt from one of the troopers clipped her side, propelling her forcefully to the ground. She was close enough for him to hear her strangled cry at the hit, echoing out against across the valley. She scrabbled backwards in the dirt, blaster thrown out of reach. One of the troopers swung off his speeder bike, approaching her slowly as he took aim. They weren’t planning on taking her prisoner. He couldn’t hear whatever words they exchanged, just see the snarl on the woman’s face before her features calmed, peaceful, as she closed her eyes before the inevitable.

Crosshair dispatched the trooper closest to her, expertly, just before the Imperial could squeeze to pull the trigger. He followed it up with three more in rapid succession, the troopers falling dead before they could hope to locate the sniper’s position or find cover. The final two, he saw with some surprise, were caught off guard by the woman, who had managed to crawl over to her lost blaster in the confusion.

She was attempting to limp her way over to one of the abandoned speeder bikes when he caught up to her.

“Stay back,” she warned him, eyes glinting as she aimed her blaster at him.

“Are you even sure you could ride one of those things by yourself right now?” He drawled back at her.

“Of course I can,” she snapped. As if to prove it to him, she gripped the handle of the first one she came to with her left hand, knuckles white, right hand steady as she kept her blaster trained on his chest. She swung her leg and mounted the bike. He watched her grip on the handle loosen as the shock and pain caught up to her, her eyes rolling back in her head as she collapsed.

Next Chapter

[ahsokaanakinrexorobi-wan]

SOMEWHERE IN THE LOWER LEVELS OF Coruscant

Ahsoka: well I don't think anakin is going to find us this time

Rex: can't he feel your force presence with the force to find you

Ahsoka: how did I forget about that

Rex: I don't know

Ahsoka: well anyway

RIGHT OUTSIDE THE JEDI TEMPLE

Anakin: where the kriff is ahsoka

Obi-Wan: I don't know anakin use the force to find her.

Anakin: why is her force presence in the lower levels and why is rex's force presence there as well

Obi-Wan: I don't know anakin but clones don't have a very strong force presence but the force is everywhere it is around us.

Anakin: yeah yeah shut up

Obi-Wan: just start walking

*Anakin and Obi-Wan start walking towards the stairs to get to the lower levels*

Anakin: why is ahsoka down on this level this level is far from the top level

Obi-Wan: I don't know but maybe I can get more deathsticks

Anakin: I thought you quit deathsticks

Obi-Wan: just go find ahsoka

Anakin: ok *walks away from Obi-Wan*

Anakin: alright the force says that ahsoka is nearby but I don't see her

*Anakin looks down an alleyway and sees ahsoka and rex making out*

Anakin: not this shit again can you two not

Ahsoka: can you go

Anakin: you two started the war in the barracks of the 501st and 212th didn't you

Rex: technically the 212th barracks are the same building as the 501st barracks and technically the battle only uses stun shots

Anakin: yeah nobody is going to get hurt

Ahsoka: exactly

Anakin: I was wondering why appo was the one who was leading the 501st in the fake war with the 212th

Rex: well it's not like I'm going to be there

At the 212th and 501st barracks

Anakin: as you can tell the 212th are losing this and fives is drunk and playing fortunate son through the coms in the helmets

Rex: so that's why fortunate son is playing in my helmet

Obi-Wan: I say we should have a lightsaber duel in the middle.

Anakin: yes

*Obi-Wan and anakin start to have a lightsaber duel*

Appo: ah the jedi generals are here

Rex: so am I

Appo: I'm assuming the music is already playing in your helmet

Rex: yep

*Echo gets shot by a stun blast and goes unconscious*

Rex: shit this is pretty much an actual war

Kix: you think

Rex: yes I do

Hardcase: this is fun

Tup: if you consider having a fake battle fun we might have to do this more often

Arc trooper stitches: I agree

OVER WITH THE 212TH

Commander Cody: this is fun

Waxer: yes it is

[chronozen]

Dissecting Tales of the Empire (Barriss stuff)

So let's break down all the Barriss stuff in the trailer:

There's an Inquisitor Shuttle approaching Our - likely after she is freed from prison

When Barriss is freed from her cell

This little bit is actually quite interesting. First of all Barriss is wearing a prison symbol with the emblem of the Jedi Order on the shoulder.

The clone troopers are Republic Shock Troopers, The Coruscant guard.

Fourth Sister is actually wearing Jedi robes not an Inquisitor uniform, she's already fallen to the Dark side as evidenced by the eyes.

This is suggesting that Barriss is freed from somewhat close to the end of Revenge of Sith

Also the framing of Barriss in prison is very similar to Luminara's hologram in Rebels.

Barriss's eyes are really blue in this scene. Like more so than other ones.

Barriss walking down a hallway

Pretty self explanatory. She's walking down a hallway. She's wearing Robes that a likely Inquisitorius initiate robes. (Or maybe it wasn't Laundry day and Barriss's uniform wasn't ready)

The Clones are just Regs in Phase 2 armour. It looks like Fortress Inquisitorius on Nur.

Speculation: Barriss is giving a little side glance, she's either taking her environment or she's plotting something.

The Grand Inquisitor scene

When then see the Grand Inquisitor leading Barriss into a room with several lightsabers

None of the Lightsabers are Luminara's (Trust me i double checked Weapon's Factory.) They are most likely reused models and generic sabres - because animation and props design is hard and short cuts should be taken whenever you can.

.....but two of those lightsabers are very close to Barriss's lightsaber.

The one in the middle doesn't seem to hold a significance (The bottom of the hilt slightly resembles Ahsoka's Padawan lightsaber, and you could go Green symbolic of Luminara.)

....wouldn't it be just awful if its Tutso Mara's lightsaber?

Inquisitor and Barriss have a sparring session, he tries to get her to use Anger and slams her into the roof, she's noticeably angry.

"Mercy only breeds defeat, i will help you overcome this weakness."

This line is interesting because it's not the usual only your Hatred can strike me down line, the Grand Inquisitor is actually being polite and offering a twisted form of assistance.

Which brings me to a thought - The Grand Inquisitor was right beside Barriss during her big confession at Ahsoka's trial, he's probably going to see her as someone that they don't have to break or torture.

Fourth Sister using Spinning Lightsaber

So this is a very short sequence. The Fourth Sister is in an area with a Rock wall, jumps down, glances around nervously, spins her blade and looks up.

Speculation: Something hasn't gone to plan, maybe the Jedi later in trailer is tougher, or maybe someone else has swapped sides...

The Jedi Fight

This shot opens with Barriss in a proper Inquisitor Uniform and her own useless spinning lightsaber running towards Fourth Sister and an unknown Jedi with a blue Saber

During the fight we can see ITS NOT LUMINARA, this Jedi has a different facial structure, skin tone and likely human.

We can also see who i assume is Barriss looking like she is hesitating on what to do.

We then cut to a different seen of a hooded figure using the force to blow away B2 Super Battle Droids. This implies its during the clone wars and the hooded figure is very likely Barriss cause that silhouette is very similar.

The figure is illuminated by a white glow and it's probably a part of sequence meant to show Barriss before she went nuts - cause its been 11 years so new viewers might not know this character who only appeared in technically 7 eps at most is...

FIGHT TO THE DEATH

Fight to death between Barriss and an unknown initiate.

Grand Inquisitor throws a lightsaber between the two - no its not Barriss's lightsaber

Ray shields go up. Initiate who i'm calling Glup, goes for the Saber. The crystal has been bled so it's red.

Glup and Barriss fight and Barriss goes for the sky high kick or possibly punch to the head.

THE NEW MASTER

'it is time to meet your new Master."

This implies the initiates don't meet Vader until they're full members.

We see Barriss lined up with the other Inquisitors - she's in full uniform. Really hard to tell if her eyes are dark side yellow or not. (They still look Blue compared to Fourth's)

Also it's really funny to me that she's lined up with Bird face Inquisitor, Marrok and Fourth Sister, cause everyone said all of those Inquisitors was Barriss Offee.

They all kneel, Barriss goes down first.

Vader walks past and Barriss looks up slightly and watches him...and she immediately frowns and furrows her eyebrows.

She's plotting something....

Interesting note: Since bird face is alive and has his head perfectly attached to his neck still, This places Barriss's eps of Tales of the Empire prior to Ahsoka's last ep of Tales of the Jedi

Look i can hope for Barriss to escape and then we seen the back of Ahsoka walk into frame....

[jq37]

Little bittersweet that this might be Fig's swan song. There's like this "six seasons and a movie" mentality that makes me feel like Senior Year is the finish line, so just stick it out for one more. But, if creatively Emily doesn't feel like she can get any more out of the character, then that's that. It's best to move on rather than force it. Or not. It's the end of her time at Aguefort, doesn't mean it's the end of her time with the Bad Kids. The school part of these characters being high schoolers only really came into play this season, so let's wait and see. Emily considered retiring Fig at the start of this season and changed her mind. It could happen again.

On to the fun stuff:

-Gorgug didn't get a last hit on Porter, but he did get a clutch assist in with a narratively satisfying move that uses his Artificer class instead of his Barbarian class, helping drive the last nail in on Porters coffin. *chefs kiss* Going out of Rage while doing it was a perfect way to twist the knife.

-Riz's kill line on KP was stone cold.

-Everyone else's contributions were valuable but none more so than the newest Bad Kid, The Lava. Taking out five major threats during the battle. What a trooper and a strong candidate for Honor Roll.

-I came around on Mary Anne too. I get why some of the Intrepid Heroes were so obsessed with flipping her allegiances.

There's a lot this season that gives a strong finale vibe, but besides that hook at the end there's another thing that keeps going unresolved. Sol and his church keep fucking around and it's about damn time they find out. I don't think Senior Year will be a full-on religious crusade, but it doesn't feel like that plot point should be off the table. And what the fuck is Kalinas deal? So she was never loyal to Cass?

I hope we don't have to wait another 4 years for the next chapter of Fantasy High to get an answer to those questions.

Fig honestly would prob go to school more if she wasn't required to so it's absolutely an Emily decision more than it is a story decision. It's hard to picture FH without her but I'm sure she'll come up with something fun if she's still feeling like retiring Fig whenever they get around to Senior Year.

I think it's arguably MORE fitting that Gorgug didn't get the last hit in and instead got him with a gadget that didn't even do damage. It's like, he got Porter and not even in a way that Porter would respect because it wasn't rageful and violent. That's gotta suck more than if Gorgug had just punched him hard and KO'd him.

The lava was just so so good. It's like when you're a warlock and technically you could do other stuff but spamming Eldritch Blast just gets you the most bang for your buck so you keep doing it. Once they figured out the lava strat, they basically had to keep using it. Lava MVP for sure.

Mary Ann being so checked out for the whole evil plot even while participating in it is so funny. Honestly, queen shit.

I really think that if Kalina is actually bad then that's a retcon from Brennan because that's never been how familiars work and Kalina did try to help them consistently throughout the season with the Spy's Tongue Curse clue. She only attacked them when she got hit with a rage crystal and that was godly interference.

I agree that there are a lot of loose ends re: The Church of Sol (Buddy, Bobby and Sandra Lynn, Helio's lack of a chosen one, Bucky's whole deal, the Helioic pantheon shakeup--how crazy is it that Cass never talks to any of her celestial sibs?). I hope that if we explore that we get to see more about the actual people of the church rather than just the gods because there was a huge god focus in back to back seasons and, as I've mentioned before, if Spyre rules mean that gods are a reflection of their followers, their followers are honestly more interesting. I can't really be mad at Sol for being what he is when his chill level is determined by Bobby Dawn and co, you know? He has limited agency as an entity. Cut out the middle man and let's chase down Bobby directly.

[ghostofskywalker]

Friendly Competition

Commander Cody & Padawan!Reader

Fictober 2023 Day 28 of 31

Words: 833

Summary: You challenge Cody to a competition: who can kill the most clankers in this battle. Usually he isn't one for games, but this time he agrees.

Note: this could be seen as a sister fic to my other platonic commander cody & obi-wan's padawan!reader fic, operation: rest and relaxation, but it can absolutely be read on its own. this is definitely one of my favorite fictober fics :)

Clone Troopers Masterlist

The transport ship was about to start its descent when you turned to Cody. “I bet I can kill more clankers than you.”

Your fellow commander hadn’t yet put his helmet on, and he turned towards you with his eyebrows raised. “I don’t think so, kid.”

“Well, do you want to make it a bet?”

He paused for a moment, clearly think about the pros and cons of accepting your challenge. “I don’t need to prove anything to you,” he said, putting his helmet on and grabbing the blaster from his belt holster.

But of course, you weren’t going to let things go that easily. “That’s fine commander,” you said. “I won’t tell my master that you’re scared.”

Silence. Now that he had his helmet on you couldn’t read his facial expression, but you knew that your joking threat might actually get him to engage. “Alright,” he said, a slightly gruff tone that you knew was all osik. “You’ve got yourself a challenger.”

“Great!” you said, and you felt the gunship touch down on the surface of the planet. “Keep count of your kills, and this will end when we get back on the transport.”

“Deal.”

The doors opened, and you ran with your troops into the heat of battle.

Obi-Wan was pushing from the other side of this forest, and the hope was that when all the droids were defeated you would meet him in the middle of the battlefield. You had already learned so much from him, and formed positive friendships with the all of the 212th, Cody in particular. It felt like you had suddenly inherited hundreds of older brothers, and the commander was the wisest of them all.

War was difficult, and you knew that even before you had left the Jedi Temple. This particular game began as something stupid that Waxer and Boil heard about from Rex and the 501st, how many droids did everyone kill during battles and skirmishes, but you had never successfully gotten the commander involved. Part of you wondered if he knew something about the difficulty of this battle that he refused to tell you, and that was why he agreed to indulge your sense of whimsy this time, but there was nothing you could do about that now.

Cody was the marshal commander of the GAR, the highest-ranking clone in the entire army, and he was terrifyingly effective in battle. On multiple occasions you had watched him toss his blaster aside and sprint directly at his adversaries, and you had heard rumors that he had even tackled General Grievous once.

Even though you were a Jedi, this was going to be one hell of a close competition.

You twirled your lightsaber through a unyielding sea of droids, mentally keeping count of every single one that you sent careening to the ground, with its head or limbs falling separate from its body. You pulled the blaster from your hip and wielded it along with your saber, a concentrated expression on your face as you focused only on the task at hand. Using a blaster was very different than the traditional Jedi weapons, but you had adapted to it pretty easily, much to the disgust of some higher-up Jedi Masters. However, it had made you more successful in battle, and so it was allowed by the council.

You knew that if this war ended you would have some heavy realities to face, but right now the main goal was to stay alive, and that’s what you did.

When the last of the droids had finally fell, your count was up to seventy-six, and you thought that was pretty good for the amount of adversaries that you had just faced. You met up with Obi-Wan and the other half of the battalion and were now taking stock of your win before trying to decide what to do next.

As you spoke to a few of the troopers on the outskirts of the group, Cody walked up to you with a smile on his face. “Alright kid, how did you do?”

You tried to play it tough, knowing that this was all a game. “I think I won, how many did you kill?”

“I asked you first.”

You stood up a little straighter before speaking. “Seventy six droids.”

The look on his face was hard to read at first, and then a gigantic smile crossed his face. “Congratulations,” he said.

“Really?” You could barely contain your excitement.

“I killed seventy five, so you won.”

Immediately you jumped for joy, running through the groups of clones and excitedly informing them that you had beat the commander in a droid kill-off, and they all laughed at your excitement as they made joking remarks about their commanding officer.

As Cody would tell Obi-Wan later when he was asked, he actually killed seventy seven droids, but the look of excitement and happiness on your face when you realized that you had beat him in a competition was completely worth the loss. 

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[amarcia]

Guys do you wanna see a piece of writing I did for cirz!!!

21BBY, Mission to Gondagali, Lahara sector. — Meditation is hard in the middle of war

In the Republic Cruiser’s locked cabin, the young Padawan shifts on his floor cushion. The closed durasteel door behind him blocks the sound of the outside making the way his knees brush the floor suddenly seem louder than possible. 

If the Padawan’s master hears the shuffling, she gives no sign for it, no twitch of her brow, no flutter of the eyelids, not a quirk of the fingers. She sits unbothered like moments before, like she’s done for countless minutes, immersed in a meditative trance on the cushion opposite of Cirz.

But Cirz shifts again, unable to contain his impatience. Unlike his master who closed her eyes, he stares at the figure of the older Jedi intently, unblinking almost, as if it can signal his urgency. He hears himself take a breath eager to break the silence 

His master opens her eyes.

“Cirz-”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the battle losses? Shouldn’t I know?” He feels himself lean forward and ball his hands on his knees, discontent threatens to escape him.

In response, he receives silence.

His master suddenly seems tired, with a face thinner than it usually should be. Heaviness rests in the Force around her like some cloak, like wet wool, making Cirz’s shoulders feel heavy with a phantom feeling.

He licks his lip. “We can’t be losing. Are we losing?”

The master replies with the most gentle tone, or perhaps her voice simply lacks strength. “I’m afraid this is what success looks like.“

“Like dead soldiers, master?”

Surprise spills across their bond. Then sadness, the same heaviness. 

Enah brings her hands together. “In war, many people are lost, regardless of the outcome, beings die.” She lets out a sigh, studying the fierceness of her padawan’s gaze. ”The troops you speak of who joined the Force… They have created a path for the remaining Battalions to retake the planet.”

“Then… Then should you not be down there with the men, master? Should you not help them?”

Enah shakes her head. “All of our troops are fighting on the ground. Tell me Cirz, what happens to the relief team we are escorting, if no one stays on the ship to protect them?”

Cirz straightens in the most serious, most determined way an eight year old can be. “I can protect them.” 

Then recognition flickers on his face. His expression deflates, scrunches in a miserable display. “You don’t think I can protect them.”

He waits for his master to deny the claim, but she doesn’t. It hurts him with a burning feeling rising from his belly, just like a death of thousands of men might. If only he had more experience to be useful in a situation like this, perhaps no one would die. But how can he gain more experience, if master Enah keeps sending him away?

“I miss the missions when you trusted me with more.” He mutters.

“I trusted you to follow my plan and stay on the ship with me… Yet, you attempted to leave with the clones, isn’t that so?”

Cirz stirs.

His large eyes drop to the floor. He has no idea how master Enah knows, but it’s true. He approached the Alpha Arc Trooper and tried to talk him into letting him join the operation. This is how he learnt about the many casualties of the campaign. 

Not even from Enah. 

By accident.

As if already knowing all the emotions that rise in the boy, Enah moves closer, reaching to place her hands on Cirz’s tightly closed fists.

“I apologize, Cirz” She says, “My wish was… that you wouldn’t need to witness the war so soon. It is too soon, Padawan, and it is not the galaxy I wished you to see… Yet, it seems the truth has found you, regardless of my intent.”

She gives his hands a gentle squeeze. “Now you can’t turn your back to it.”

Cirz tells himself that of course he won’t turn back. “I’m your Padawan, master. I go where you go. I see what you see”.

“…. No Cirz,” Enah rises at last. Her previous exhaustion seems to have disappeared. “I was in the wrong to bring you here, I see it now… Force help us, when we return home, we will find you more suitable tasks.”

He doesn’t like this decision any better, but before he gets a chance to answer, his master’s comlink signals an incoming transmission. — All droids on the planet Gondagali are deactivated. The relief team can enter the atmosphere.

This means their meditation time is over.

“For now come with me, Padawan. There are still things you can do, which do not involve sending you to the battlefront.”

[corrieguards]

Cody x reader Summary: Cody's in a sour mood, injured both in pride and flesh. So when a cute medic comes to check up on him, they are faced with one grumpy Cody. Word Count: 1,9k T/W: none, just Cody being a little shit

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Today had not been a good day for Cody.

His first misfortune of the day happened when General Kenobi was transferred over to reinforce another battalion, right in the middle of his own raging battle. Not only that but he also took both his medics along with him, leaving Cody as the sole commander of 600 men, some of them seriously injured.

To make matters worse, when he sent a request for backup, the Council replied by dispatching the only other available battalion. And when the gun ships arrived, a relieved Cody rushing to meet them as they landed, who did he see stroll out of them?

Anakin fucking Skywalker. 

Hopes crushed, he reluctantly began to brief the general on the current situation and offer up some of his own opinions on counter attacks only for Anakin to dismiss them. Plans he has spent all kriffing night making replaced with another one of Skywalkers idiotic ideas that was probably going to get them killed.

Then, to add salt to the wound, half way through the battle he got caught in the crossfire of a thermal detonator that some shiny had accidentally thrown too close to him. Not only did he get thrown across the room, but a piece of shrapnel hit him in just the right spot between his armour platings, getting firmly and painfully lodged into his side.

So here he now sat, safely in hyperspace on the way back to the capital. His dignity wounded not only by the fact that Anakins' stupid plan had actually worked, but also because he, Marshal Commander Cody, had got wounded in battle. And not by a clanker or a seppie, no. By a fucking shiny.

All he wanted to do now was take a weeks long nap, but instead he was stuck in the med-bay of the Resolute waiting impatiently for a medic to show up. But apparently even the medics of the 501st were horribly unorganized.

Scowling at the time display on his wrist comm, he scoffed, already itching to get up and leave. Maker, how much longer was this going to take?

He didn’t even need to be here for kriff sake, he was fine. He still had piles of reports to sign off and injured men to check up on. But Rex had made him promise that he would at least let one of his medics take a look at him and Cody was nothing if not a man of his word.

Sensing a movement out the corner of his eye he turned lazily towards the door a bored look on his face.

“Hi, I’m here to be your medic” you smiled as you made your way over to your patient.

“Fucking finally” he muttered under his breath. Your head shot up from your datapad, raising an eyebrow at the trooper in front of you. What was his problem?

Brushing the comment off you plastered on another smile, admittedly less genuine that the first one.

“Ok then, let’s get started shall we?”, you introduced yourself to him, telling him your name and finishing it off by offering him a handshake.

He glanced down at your outstretched hand then back up at you face, eyebrows raising before slowly accepting your offer. His hand engulfed your own as he gave it a small shake, pulling back almost as soon as your hands had touched.

A couple beats of silence passed as you looked at him expectantly. His frown deepened “We gonna get this over with or what?

Your eyes widened, taken aback by his bluntness. Seriously, what was this guy's problem?

“I was waiting for your name...” you said, but this only made him look even more confused.

“Y’know, I tell you my name, you tell me yours…” you explained hesitantly “at least that’s how introductions usually work.”

“I know how they work” he scoffed “I just assumed you already knew who I was. Most people do.”

“Oh. Well I’m kinda new around here. I haven’t even really worked with other battalions outside of the 501st yet”

“Clearly.” he grumbled “The name’s Cody. Marshal Commander Cody.”

Ok so he was definitely wayy to full of himself.

You flashed him an awkward smile “Ok then Cody, how about you lay down for me and we can get started?”

Turning, you started rummaging through ypu med pack when he scoffed, making you look up abruptly only to find him still sitting on the edge of the bed with a bored look on his face.

"How long is this going to take?" he asked harshly.

"Well, that really depends on how bad your injuries are commander, I-"

"Great" he cut you off "then I believe we're finished here” He jumped of the bed, wincing slightly and clutching his side but quickly recovering and playing it off

You caught the movement and opened your mouth, beginning to protest “But commander, you're obviously injured-“

“I’m perfectly fine” he said, pointedly cutting you off yet again “Now if you’d just sign me off I’ll be on my way.”

He held his hand out expectantly, already looking down at his comm as he waited for you to hand him the med report card.

This guy was getting on your last kriffing nerve.

When you didn’t react he slowly looked up at your face “I said-“

“I know what you said” this time you cut him off. He raised an eyebrow at you before straightening up to his whole height and taking a step closer to you.

“Good, then how about you follow orders and hand me that report card, medic”

Oh so this is how this was gonna go. Ok then, two can play that game Cody.

Matching him you took a step closer, now almost chest to chest “I don’t care if you’re Marshal Commander or the fucking Chancellor, when it comes to medical care I outrank you”

He looked taken aback by your outburst but maintained his firm gaze nonetheless. Refusing to back down you glared straight back up at him. Eventually he scoffed “Fine, but make it quick.”

“It will take as long as it needs to take Commander," you replied snarkily “Now please if you would be so kind as to lay down.”

He let out a small huff of disbelief, but settled back down onto the bed anyway. You had balls he’d give you that.

“Not many people talk to me like that y’know” he said as he watched you set up your supplies.

“Yeah? Well maybe they should” you scoffed, making him narrow his eyes at you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You seem like you could be taken down a couple notches is all." You shrugged, gentle hand begining to detach the armour plating covering his chest and stomach. Then as an after thought you added “No offense.”

“How the hell is that not offensive?”

You smirked, an odd satisfaction at getting under his skin.

He sucked in a sharp breath as you carefully peeled up his blacks, your own breath hitching as it revealed the wound hidden underneath.

“And you said you were fine?”

“I am fine” he replied through his teeth. “Minor wounds are an occupational hazard. I’ll live.”

“Cody. This isn’t a ‘minor injury’. This is an open wound that, if not treated correctly will get worse”

“S’nothing I haven’t dealt with before”

“I don’t care if you’ve dealt with it before, right now it’s my job to take care of you and you’ve got to let me do it”

He shot you an annoyed look but settled down nonetheless “Fine”

You nodded satisfied and walked over to the sink, Cody’s eyes following your every move as you picked up a cloth, letting it soak completly under the tap before carefully wringing it out.

Turning around, you jumped slightly upon seeing the commanders gaze watching you intently. You cleared your throat, walking back over to him and taking a seat on the stool next to the bed. Gently, you pressed the cloth to his skin but quickly pulled it back when he hissed. 

“Sorry” you mumbled “Is it too hot? Too cold?”

“No, no it’s fine, just stings a little”

Nodding you carried on rubbing of the dried blood and dirt spread around his wound, making a conscious effort to be as soft as you could. Once you were satisfied you lent in, taking a closer look at the now clean wound. You hummed and began rummaging in your med pack as he watched you closely.

“What? What is it?” he asked almost as if he was... nervous? No, it couldn’t be.

“It’s just gonna need a couple stitches that’s all, nothing to worry about”

He swallowed as you carefully threaded your needle and lined it up near the start of his cut. Taking one last glance up at him to make sure he was ok you found him clenching his fists tightly by his side, eyes firmly shut and chest rising and falling quickly. 

Who knew he would be so nervous about a tiny needle. You shook your head smiling softly at his nervousness before slowly pushing the needle in. Immediately he flinched, sucking in a breath and clenching his jaw. 

You stilled, glancing up at him again “Hold still for me please.”

“I’m trying” he muttered angrily, “but you’re fucking stabbing me”

You chuckled, focusing back on your work “On come on now, I thought you were ‘big tough Marshal Commander Cody’. People won’t find you nearly as intimidating when they find out you can’t handle a little needle and threat”

“I can handle it.” he growled. 

“Sure doesn’t seem like it” you smirked finishing up the last stitch and tying a careful knot. “But no need to worry Cody, I wouldn’t dare tarnish your reputation like that”.

Taking out a bacta patch you ripped the wrapping off.

“It can be our little secret” you teased, sending him a wink. He rolled his eyes at you, only making you smirk wider when you saw him trying to hide a smile. Huh, maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

You lined the bacta patch up, before giving him a warning “This is gonna sting a little”

He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as you pushed it down, looking up at him apologetically and muttering a quiet “Sorry”

Finally you straightened up, dusting off your hands “Okay the Cody, you’re as good as new” 

He groaned as he sat up, watching you fill out the report card before finally signing it off and handing it to him. He took it from you muttering out a quiet “Thanks”

Smirking, you put a hand behind your ear teasingly  “Sorry? I didn’t quite catch that”

He rolled his eyes at you, ghost of a smile gracing his lips “I said” he enunciated each word carefully “Thank you”

“My pleasure Marshal Commander” you grinned, giving him an exaggerated bow. He let out a small huff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh before re-attaching his armour and heading towards the exit.

“Oh and Commander” you shouted when he was half way out the door. He hummed, turning to look at you.

“I’ll see you around Cody” you winked playfully. He shook his head, rolling his eyes but not trying to hide the smile rising on his face.

“Sure, I'll see you around” he replied, winking back before slipping out the door.

You stood, staring dumbly at the empty space where he’d just been standing, feeling a blush slowly creep up to your cheeks.

Did- did he just wink at you?

---

Pt.2 here

A/N: I can't shake the feeling that I didn't get Cody quite right in this? Idk something just feels off. So please feel free to send me some constructive criticism. Key word being constructive. I will most definitely cry if you are mean to me lmao

Anywho, hope y'all enjoyed it anyways ❤️ :D

my masterlist

[sendpseuds]

Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.) 👉👈

THIS!

Sadly, I will never write this insane dark!Obi-Wan on Mandalore AU that haunts my dreams to this day

what you see above is the timeline of events [well, as far as I got with it] and SEVEN different points of view, but while this timeline is in chronological order, the fic was not going to be. Well, not totally.

Basically, the fic would start in Bo-Katan's POV [the blue stickies] where she and the rest of Death Watch meet with a mysterious figure offering to help them take back Mandalore. Cut to Satine's POV [purple stickies] where she's informed that a patrol has picked up a downed ship outside the city walls. The pilot survived and has been identified as Obi-Wan Kenobi. But that's not possible, because Obi-Wan Kenobi died on Naboo over a decade ago

*gasp*

Anyway, the audience knows from the beginning that he's working as a double agent but we don't know what his motivations are. Other than the Kryze sisters whose stories are told chronologically, almost every POV [Dooku red, Cody orange, Quinlan yellow, Anakin green] is out of order and often out of context, especially Obi-Wan's [black stickies] who's POV segments I had started to write in a very different style from everyone else, more poetry than prose from him just to make everything even eerier.

This thing is insane. An absolute monster with so many cool ideas but I just don't have the bandwidth for it.

There are a lot of elements I think about a lot and I often wonder if I could break this down into smaller fics.

I'm having fun thinking about this so I'm gonna keep ranting if that's cool with you? Cool.

The main theme of the story is pain, both emotional and physical. Obi-Wan is horribly injured on Naboo after Qui-Gon sacrifices him to defeat Maul [hense, everyone thinking he's dead] and he lives with chronic pain, which is how Dooku manipulates him into training as a Sith, by offering him relief and threatening to take it away whenever Obi-Wan steps out of line. There is also something in there about Obi-Wan learning how to completely shield himself in the Force because his pain gets so loud other Force-sensitive can feel it [which is how Dooku finds him in the first place]

Eventually, Obi-Wan escapes and spends a lot of time learning on his own and just observing what's going on. He knows there's a war coming but Dooku never told him the details. So he's curious.

This brings me to one idea I think could definitely just be a fic all its own —

During the war, Cody notices that clones are going missing on the battlefield. At first, he makes some particularly gruesome excuses in his mind involving explosives and local fauna but eventually, it becomes clear someone is taking them. It's not every battle and it's always only one.

Before he's ever able to get to the bottom of it, Cody is knocked out cold in the middle of battle and wakes up on an operating table where a mysterious man explains how he's been taking clones for months. At first, he'd only taken men who were already dead, curious to learn about their physiology, but when he'd discovered the chips— Well, then he'd started to experiment.

in the larger AU plot, this came back in the end, Obi-Wan has his own little clone brigade [oh gods this part was so complicated, there was some zombie troopers and some reprogrammed ones and Death Watch didn't know about the reprogrammed ones?? also I wrote the zombie trooper idea down before Ahsoka so yeah], but I really think this could work as a horror one-shot that just ends with Obi-Wan kissing him on the forehead and putting him under for his reprogramming.

Okay, wow. This is probably a lot more than you bargained for, but I haven't really played around with this AU in a while, so thank you for giving me the excuse to do that!

For anyone wondering, the sticky note app is called Mural, but it really only works on a computer, the iPad app is unusable.

And if anyone has questions about this AU, please feel free to ask! this one goes wild places

[gingerlurk]

Lovers' Crest | Chapter 20: The Confessional II

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Din has left it all too late as his fears are realised.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, Mo blood, injured Reader, Hurt/Comfort (if I have ever written a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic in my life, it’s this chapter), lots of feelings.

A/N: We're nearly there, omg. Every single one of you who's joined me on this journey and let me know you're enjoying this story, you're SO wonderful. Thanks for reading!

--

Din rips at your flight harness, nearly pulling it from the seat in the effort to get you up. He shouts your name but you’re limp and silent, lifeless. Grogu watches with wide horrified eyes as Din hauls you, limbs dangling, into his arms. 

He yells to R5 to keep the ship on an even keel.

‘Grogu. With me. We need. Lay her down.’ He grunts out the words in stuttered bursts of breath, moving to the door.

‘Pah!’ Still in his pod, the baby unbuckles to follow the hulking shape of Din carrying you through the cockpit, dropping into the hold, across to the cabin. He floats into the cabin behind the frantic Mandalorian and your unconscious form, hovering nervously and murmuring as his father lays you down before turning to him. 

Din lifts Grogu from the pod.

He settles the child next to you, by your hip so his little hands are just in reach of the wound, and seats himself on your other side – framing you between the two of them. He takes out a small knife and slices away your leather tunic to expose the short metal object that Grogu spotted when you had leaned back in your cockpit chair. It is pulsing with a low hum and the skin around the foreign object is riddled with gooseflesh. Sweat pools across the plains of your abdomen and in the hollow of your neck. You shudder. 

‘Grogu,’ Din hovers above you both. He takes one, steadying breath. ‘I need you to be strong for her now.’ 

He points to the small hilt sticking from your middle. Grogu murmurs, gazing between it and Din with unease.

‘This is a phase blade,’ he explains. ‘It is an ultrafine weapon that a war trooper must have slipped in when she was fighting. She would have barely noticed it going in, but now it is buried deep and is making her bleed inside her body. Do you understand what I mean by that, Grogu?’

‘Ebbe?’

‘It’s hurting her inside her body where we can’t see. And if I start to pull it from her, it will activate an energy field that is going to make it worse, more bleeding, more damage inside of her.’

His voice cracks for a moment. He blinks back tears from behind his helmet, seeing the charts on his vision array showing your staccato heart rate and plunging BP blur and distort. He shakes his head and focuses on the child’s face. 

‘It’s designed that way, d’you understand?’ he goes on. ‘They use it to kill even after a battle ends. It’s impossible to remove without killing her.’

Grogu gives a little wail of despair, leaning into your limp form.

‘But y’can save her, buddy.’

‘Eeeh?’ Din’s son gives him a disbelieving look. He really doesn’t know - how powerful he is?

‘Remember Greef Karga?’ he says, leaning closer to the tiny child. ‘Remember the creature’s attack on Navarro? You saved him. You can save her.’

From where you lay, you convulse slightly and thick blood oozes across your hip and onto the bed. Your chest rises in shallow, hyperventilating breaths. His voice gets urgent.

‘You’re stronger now than you were then, so much stronger. You can do this. As I draw out the blade… heal her as it goes. Make the bleeding and the hurt stop. Can you do that?’ 

The baby’s ears twitch as he looks up to where your head lays lolled on its side. He looks terrified.

‘Please, kid,’ the desperation in Din’s voice pulls Grogu’s eyes back to him. ‘Please, you have to do this, I need h—’

Fuck, take a breath, Fuck.

‘I need you to try your best.’

Grogu seems to steel himself. He reaches out and presses both hands to your entry wound. Din takes the petite hilt of the blade in hand and braces a forearm against your ribcage. He watches as the child closes both gigantic eyes and focuses, tilting his head progressively up and up like he’s summoning the universe to him. Din observes his breathing pick up and his little forehead scrunch tight. 

‘Ehhhhh,’ Grogu looks pained, straining. His little mouth opens and closes a few times before settling into a hard frown. Then, without opening his eyes, he gives one tiny resolute nod.

Din takes a long breath in and counts… three, two…  

He pulls.

‘Hhhhrrrrrngh!’ You wail and arch off the mattress, pushing into Din’s forearm with a surprising force. He leans forward to put more weight on you and grips the blade tighter. It’s barely moved a millimetre but you and Grogu are both shaking violently. 

Just keep going. Stay steady.

Another pull and hot crimson spurts from the wound, splashing across the view of his visor. You jerk as if struck, arching again. His grip slips off the hilt. Panic rises. He feels like he might black out. Flushing hot and cold, the air in his lungs turning icy and his blood setting to boil.

Furious regret tears at him. Worlds, curse him. He’s wasted so much time. Holding onto the hurt, onto the shame, and the anger. Why? Why couldn’t he have let go sooner. Why couldn’t he have just talked to you. If he’d just tried. Just understood you better.

Fucking focus.

Retaking the handle, he channels everything down to his hand and the blade. It’s not you he’s killing right now; it’s just his hand and this blade. That’s all it is. His hand, this blade, he chants it over and over as more of the quivering weapon comes free.

His hand, this blade. His hand, this blade. His hand, this cursed, evil, fucking, going to kill his--

The weapon draws out, deactivating the second it breaks contact with flesh. Din hurls it into a med tin and shakes his hand, as if to get the menace off him. He looks back to you, reads your still sporadic vitals. Your lips are white and you’re puffing hard through clenched teeth. Your wound is still leaking blood. Too much blood.

He’s on the verge of weeping. But he concentrates instead on Grogu, whose claws are sunk deep into your skin as he continues shaking and grunting. The child is giving everything he has. 

Din Djarin looks between the two of you. His whole fucking world. He’s losing a part of it. Maybe for good this time. He’s been so foolish. 

Fresh tears come. His vision shifts out of focus and, instead of your two quivering bodies, he sees the spray of blood across his visor. Your blood. A wretched reminder of how tortured he’s been since you returned. Empty while you were gone, he’s been on fire from the moment you looked at him as you stood at that damned forge saying you’d fight for them. Each time he’d watched you from afar, desperate to go to you but drilled to the spot, it burned. His desire to see you, to actually see you. 

It’s time. It might be too damn late, but it’s time. 

He reaches and pulls his helmet up, off. Deposits it over you onto the bed. He sits back and puts a hand to Grogu’s back and the other to your uninjured side, drawing the two of you together, holding you as close as he is able.

Whatever happens, he needs to hold you both close, for as long as he can.

‘Come on, Grogu,’ Din leans in. ‘You can do this, you can. You’re so strong, stronger than any—’

Grogu gives a long pained sigh of effort and flops forward, head resting next to the spot where – thank all the worlds – your wound has closed over into a puckered, angry looking scar. Your breathing is evening out and you slowly come to stillness.

Even as the child lays there wheezing, the wound continues to lighten and shrink, the connection between you and he potent and enduring.

Din becomes aware of his own hammering heart, his staggered breathing. Sighing out every ounce of fear and panic that had consumed him these past few minutes, he looks at you. 

He gives himself a moment to take you in. Traces the side profile of your face where your head has turned away. Relishes in the way your eyelashes flutter, and your lower lip quivers a little. The way you’re breathing more normally with each passing moment. 

He gives himself a moment to think about the colour of your eyes, wonders if his visor’s vision array has ever truly conveyed their beauty.

Then he gives his son a reassuring pat.

Grogu’s eyes slip open and he looks at his father in wonder. Din smiles.

--

It’s so much pain. 

Great crumbling walls of it. Savage spikes impaling your very core. You fall back away from it, toward some dense murky nothingness. That’s what you’re aiming for – just for the relief – when something else reaches down and wraps around you. A coil of earnest embrace. A branch of tender love. It takes hold and gives a single strong entreaty. Come back. As it strengthens its hold, the excruciation eases. The agony releases.

And so you turn back.

Push through a dense fog, swim back to consciousness. It feels endless. White haze claws at you, but the warm light waits not far away. You drag yourself to it. It takes effort. So much effort. You have to call on the weary presence within you to rise up, haul on it like a rope out of there. Reaching, grasping, breaking the surface tension with a long, strained inhale.

The first thing you sense is Din’s voice.

‘Sshh, cyar’ika,’ he’s whispering. ‘That’s it, take it slow. There’s no hurry.’

You hear yourself groan then. Feel filtered cabin air settle on your skin. Smell earthy sweat and the tang of blood, and under those something achingly known. More out of curiosity than any desire to expose them to light, you blink one eye open a little, then the other. And then you feel confusion. Because through blurred eyesight, what you see makes no sense. With your head rolled to the side, you’re looking at the unoccupied half of the bed. Except it’s not totally unoccupied.

Maybe you haven’t woken up, after all.

Din’s helmet rests on the blankets. Empty and cold, no life behind the visor. 

You sense him sitting on your other side. Hear his steady inhales and exhales, clear and unmodulated. Feel the heat of his thigh pressed into your side. 

‘Din?’ you say, voice croaky and weak, still staring at the lone helmet. You can’t bring yourself to move, to turn. You can only raise a shaky hand to press a finger to the cool metal. A flood of feeling at the contact you’ve ached for, you trace over it, follow the streak of dried blood spattered there. Draw a thumb down the high arch of its side. A caress you’ve longed for.

‘I’m here,’ he says.

‘You’re not…’ Still looking at the helmet. You notice his gloves and gauntlets also discarded on the bed. ‘You’re…’

‘It’s okay,’ he says, throaty and barely above a whisper. ‘You can look.’

‘Are you,’ you struggle to keep tears from blurring your sight even more. Blink hard to clear them, hiss in a breath. ‘Are you s- sure?’

The sensation of two fingers gently pressing to your cheek makes you gasp. If you weren’t already lying down, you’re sure you’d collapse. You screw your eyes shut again as, with a tender push, he tilts your head to turn to him. 

He sighs, pulls his hand away. ‘Please,’ he rasps. ‘Let me see you.’

Come on, you tell yourself. This is all you’ve ever wanted.

So you focus where you think his hands will be, likely resting in his lap. You blink a little when you see them there – those strong, capable hands. Thick fingers, veins tracing over knuckles, over his wrists, and up to where his forearm disappears into a sleeve. You follow that up to one shoulder, dart from it across to the other. No pauldrons. Land in between. No cuirass. 

In your peripheral vision, above the chest you’re staring hard at, you register dark hair framing indistinct features. Dark hair you already know to curl around his ears and fan over his forehead, from touching him blind and from that one scant glimpse before the battle. You’d been so eager then. So desperate. And now…

He murmurs your name. ‘Look at me, please.’

Tracing the line of his neck, the edge of his jaw, you sweep your eyes up to meet Din’s. 

A plush lower lip purses just a little, as he releases a breath like he’d held it his whole life. You struggle to breathe at all, drinking in the glorious sight. Lungs burn as you slot each tiny detail into the image in your head. There’s so much to take in, but his eyes… My gods, his eyes.

Deep, and dark, and bottomless. They match his voice so perfectly, that velvety timbre you know so well, you’re amazed you hadn’t known their hue and tone all along.

He gazes back, absorbing you. Irises like onyx marbles roll over your face, opening you up and exposing you completely. Tears start to threaten you again just from the sheer overwhelming sensation of making eye contact with Din.

‘Mmm, weh,’ a gentle murmur pierces the spell, has you glancing down.

‘Baby, hey,’ you whisper to Grogu, who’s tucked into your hip squinting up at you. You prop yourself on an elbow. ‘Oh, you look so tired. Why aren’t you resting?’

‘He’s been waiting,’ Din says, drawing your eyes back to his, where you struggle not to get lost in their fathoms again. Gods, this is the face of the Gods. ‘To make sure you’re alright.’

You look back to the child, whose own huge eyes blink languidly. You can see the effort he’s making to keep them open. You remember then, what he did. Grogu reaching for you as you sunk into a murky oblivion. Giving you the life raft to let you drag your way back. Saving you.

‘Hey, kiddo,’ you reach over and let him take hold of a forefinger with his little claw. Enclose it with a thumb. ‘See? I’m okay now. I’m okay.’

‘Emm?’

‘Yeah, you did good. You can rest now. Thank you.’

Grogu gives a lazy nod of his head, exhaling and cooing to the two of you. He pushes himself up and moves toward his pod, tentative little steps and huffs of air until he’s seated comfortably among the blankets. Pawing at the controls, he drifts out of the cabin and you listen for the shift of his hatch, open and then close.

Moving the hand he’d grasped to rest on your stomach, you feel it. Raised skin, threaded and uneven. Fingers trace back and forth over the new scar.

‘What was that? What happened to me?’ you ask, gazing up at the man sitting beside you, at his soft mouth, his sharp nose, his knit-together brow – his gorgeous features. 

A shadow crosses them as Din leans down and picks up a little metal tray. A tiny hilt with no blade rattles inside it. He lets you get a look at it before tossing it back on the floor like it’s tainted. You suppose it is.

‘Fuck,’ you huff an exhale, lean back. ‘Dicey.’

‘That would be putting it fucking mildly,’ he says, glaring at the offending weapon. How had you failed to notice a damned phase blade? When did it even happen? What would have happened to you if Din hadn’t— If he hadn’t been with you? You pull in a long breath of air.

‘How many times is it you’ve saved my life now?’ you ask. 

Eyes so soft and deep lock onto yours. You’re not prepared. They’re so expressive, you can read every single ounce of feeling in them. Longing, and fear, and some deep sad pain that breaks you wide open right from your chest.

The swell of emotion rises so swift it chokes you and slurs your words. But you force them out. As fast as you’re able over the short shallow panting that starts ramping up a staccato beat.

‘I’m sorry,’ you gasp. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Gods. Din, I’m so- s- I—'

He’s leaning in, head shaking just a little.

‘I was scared,’ you push on, words bursting out over rising sobs. It’s been too much. It’s been too long. ‘I was just so fucking sc- scared. And confused. And like I was just lost? I’m sorry, fuh, ah, I’m so--’

‘Stop,’ he speaks over you. ‘Stop, please.’ 

But you can’t. You can’t stop. The dam you’ve been straining against dissolves into a torrent. Chest heaving and hands shaking, you scrunch your eyes shut and weep.

It’s when Din bends forward and takes your face in his hands, swipes a thumb over a tear-streaked cheek and whispers, ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ that you still. At the sound of your name, murmured and desperate, you open your eyes to see his own just inches away.

‘I understand,’ he says, looking right through you, brows pulled in and expression pleading. ‘I understand now.’

He holds you there for a long, agonising stretch. Faces so close your breaths merge, brush against the cooling moisture on your skin. It’s when your mouth parts just a little, and his gaze drops there for a second, that he seems to return to himself and sits back.

Bereft for a moment, caught off guard by how just a few moments of his touch has your body thrumming, you stay quiet. You lay still and watch him gather himself, readying his words. You know this posture, know what it looks like when he’s preparing to open up. The added details of his jaw working and forehead creasing in contemplation are not lost on you – in fact, they put your heart in your throat. Yet still, in this moment, you have no idea what he’s going to say. 

Sure enough, his words take you out.

‘A while ago,’ he says. ‘Through a misstep in fate, I possessed a weapon that could have allowed me to rule Mandalore. As Bo-Katan does now.’

This out-of-nowhere revelation has you asking before you can think, ‘Why didn’t you? Why aren’t you?’

‘Well, among many other reasons,’ he makes a gesture like politics and such. With a head tilt you know well, you nearly die to learn it comes with a single eyebrow arched high in sardonic humour. You feel giddy, but keep still and listen. ‘It was… heavy,’ he continues, expression dropping to neutral again. ‘Too heavy. Being a part of my Covert is about belonging. But this was something different. I did not have the want to carry that weight. To be pulled down. Bound.’

The word pierces right through your chest. ‘Bound?’

It’s a tiny squeak, the way you say it. Bursting out of you as you see him in all new light. Familiar light. He moves a hand over you to touch your forearm, strokes there in comfort – a reflex that he doesn’t seem to make note of. It makes your skin sing. 

‘Mmhm,’ he says, looking at you. ‘The thing you fear? I understand it. I should’ve understood it all along, but I was blinded by—’ He cuts himself off, swallows hard. 

‘Anyway, I am sorry for that,’ he says, whispering your name again. ‘I am so, so sorry.’

You’re trying to find the words to say he has nothing to be sorry for. To tell him you’d carried remorse and guilt with you across most of the galaxy. That you’d do anything to go back to before that cursed day and talk to him. Tell him these things before it had all become too late. But he continues before you can. 

‘And I’m sorry that I have been… since you got here, that I’ve…’

‘It’s okay,’ you say, when you see him struggling to keep going.

‘It’s not,’ he says. ‘It’s not okay, I was just- Shit, I was just so furious…’

‘I know,’ you murmur, ready to accept this and beg forgiveness. ‘I know you were angry with me, and, and I underst—’

‘I wasn’t angry with you,’ he interrupts.

‘But I- I hurt you so badly, I--’ you say, unable to believe him. Tears encroach again. ‘And- and I was here and you weren’t, and I didn’t know if you’d ever speak to me again, and I--' 

‘I was hurting, that’s true,’ he says, warm hand continuing its motions on your arm. It hasn’t stopped for one second. ‘But so were you. And I wasn’t angry with you.’

‘What?’

He leans the elbow of the arm not caressing yours on a knee, shifts a little closer. Drawing a deep breath to speak, he gives you another wounded look. An intense wave of gooseflesh ripples over you.

‘You being here,’ he says. ‘I couldn’t stand it.’

You must look fit to break because he rushes on. 

‘You being here, in danger. From the moment you stood in front of everyone and said you’d fight, I’ve been,’ he drags a hand through mussed curls, searches for words, ‘drowning, in fury and fear. When you told us your plan for the walker… Fuck-- I was livid.’

Paying attention to the tender muscles in your abdomen, you nudge yourself upright. Shuffle a little until you’re sitting up facing him, drawn in by what he’s saying.

‘That’s what you were angry about?’ you ask. ‘That I came back to fight?’

He shakes his head. ‘I was angry that you were risking your life. That you wanted to fight our battles. That they were letting you. After what I did? How I let you go?’

Din stops there for a moment, works his jaw some more and swallows like he’s trying to not choke. Grips your arm hard. He looks tortured.

‘I should never have let it get to that moment by the forge, that day you left,’ he whispers, voice tight and just under control. ‘But I wasn’t, wasn’t paying attention. I was so afraid… The idea of you in a war that wasn’t yours to fight… All I could think about was how I could protect you. If I even could.’ 

His eyes are glossy as they stare over your shoulder. Your fingers itch to touch him. ‘And when you did run… I thought at least, at least you’d be safer that way.’ 

Din takes a sharp hiss through clenched teeth.

‘But I was a fool,’ he says. ‘To not realise that whether you had run that day or not, you still would have ended up here, because of your bravery, and loyalty. Because of me. And I couldn’t stop it-- I couldn’t-- Fuck.' He lets go of you to drop his head into both hands. ‘And you almost just fucking died, right here-- All my fears were—'

This time you’re the one reaching out, clutching at arms and wrists and trying to shush and still him. You lift his head and you’re inches apart again. You mutter at him to look at you, look right here, I’m okay … Just look. I’m here.

He sighs hard and stares. Tears shining in the corners of his eyes, they shift back and forth across your face. Your fingers tingle where they dig into his hair. Heart thunders. A white hot current crackles through your arms and across your chest, sends sparks up the back of your neck. 

‘I’m here,’ you say again, voice breaking only a little.

‘You’re here,’ he whispers back. As he calms, clenched jaw relaxing, he leans into one of your palms. Just a little, without breaking eye contact. Although you do see, for the barest second, a soft pink tongue dart out to swipe his lower lip.

But he doesn’t move, just keeps looking at you – waiting for you to choose what to do next.

It’s not that you don’t want to keep holding him like this, to pull him closer, wrap yourself around him entirely. Not let go. It’s not that you wouldn’t give anything in the galaxy to simply press your forehead to his, nudge his nose with yours, press your mouth to—

It’s just that you’re on a threshold you’re not yet ready to step over. There’s things you want to say first. Answers you still need. Somehow, doubt there still about whether he wants the same thing.

So you pull back. Not much. Just enough to bring his features into focus again. Drop your hands to rest between you. He seems to will himself to relax and settle back as well, understanding the air between you is a volatile thing, and you should move forward carefully.

Into the silence, picking at the covers on the bed, you do let a little insecurity out. Just let yourself say it.

‘Well, here for as long as I’m allowed to be anyway,’ you mumble, hoping it conveys the question you’re too afraid to ask. Can I stay?

Din doesn’t say anything at first, but his eyes roam over you and you have to fight not to squirm under his gaze. Not react to the heat it’s building within you.

He moves a hand to you again and that heat flares. But rather than touching you, he lands it on the armour guard still clipped to your shoulder. A piece of the set the Armourer had had made for you.

‘You have come to be more accepted here than you realise,’ he says. You sense his thumb tracing back and forth over a specific spot, a tender caress. Tilting your head to the side to try to see, you can just make out a scorched tear where an enemy weapon must have grazed over the leather – and the dark grey steel underneath it.

‘What?’ You move your hand across as Din fluidly unclasps the piece so you can take hold of it and get a proper look.

Cradling it, you gaze up in disbelief. 

‘Beskar?’

‘Mmhm,’ he affirms. You look back down, draw your own thumb over the split to feel the cold bite of sacred steel.

‘I don’t understand.’ Tears prickle your eyes. One falls to land on Din’s thumb where it has come to rest over yours. He palms it into a fist, draws it back.

‘You will,’ he replies, voice soft. ‘Soon. There’s things for you to know, when we return to the Covert.’

His tone draws you from the shoulder piece back to his face – he’s nervous, hesitant, trying to not spook the wild thing before him.

The you of several months ago would have let what he just said set you on a panic spiral. Let it burrow into all your insecurities and trauma. Let it put a wall around you.

But the you of right now fends it off, reminding yourself that the price was just too damn high. The cost of giving in to fear and paranoia would end up destroying you. You know this now. Just trust him, you tell yourself. Remember what he said. Just be patient.

So you give a nod, an acknowledgement that you’ll wait to learn more. He relaxes a little.

Still, you have to work to not fret about what’s to come. So in the quiet that follows, your mind wanders back to the battle instead. Scenes and snippets dance across your consciousness. One thing jumps out at you, and you blurt it out.

‘Hey, why’d your jetpack cut out?’ you ask. He starts at your sudden turn in this conversation, but goes with it.

He looks embarrassed though. ‘Um, that’s…’ he mumbles, rubs palms together. ‘It’s only really powerful enough to carry just the one… person.’

‘Ah, too much weight?’ you ask.

At his chagrined look, a short laugh bursts out of you – breathy and full of relief. In response, Din smiles, with lips curving and teeth showing. The sight punches the air from your lungs.

‘Guess I’ll have to see about an upgrade,’ he says dryly.

Hells, and you’re gonna let that sit with you for a bit.

More bits come back. The miraculous course of events is overwhelming now that adrenaline and shock aren’t flooding your system.

‘And how would you have taken out Cephlate’s ship if I wasn’t here?’ you wonder aloud. ‘If I was still on the ground with…’

‘I don’t know,’ he admits. ‘I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.’

‘You had the second controls installed…’ Din shrugs, tips his chin and looks up at the ceiling, you see the faintest crawl of a blush on his neck. It’s charming as hell.

‘Let’s call it… hopeful planning,’ he offers. ‘I wanted to be prepared for anything.’

‘You were,’ you breathe. ‘You always are.’ He smiles again. You could get so used to that.

Another question bubbles up, but Din senses it and shushes you.

‘We can do a full forensic later – and talk more, I swear. But I think we’re about to—’ R5’s binary burbles a warning over the ship intercom. ‘Run low on fuel,’ Din finishes. 

He examines you with an ‘okay to move?’ kind of expression and you nod.

As you each move to stand, careful to give space to the other, the sensations of your body rush into your awareness. Unpleasant, irritated, and clammy.

You stop in the doorway, turn back. ‘Um, D- Din?’

He straightens from collecting his helmet and turns to you, listening.

‘When we’ve landed, can I-- would there be time for me to…’ You raise an arm covered in dried blood to rub it across your neck, caked in dust. Drop it to the cut-away hole exposing your abdomen, also bloody. Dither before thinking hells with it. Just ask. ‘Would it be okay for me to use the fresher quick?’ You mumble it out in a rush. Grubby and self-conscious. ‘I just…’

‘Of course,’ he says, voice a low rumble. ‘Anything.’

Not long later, you stand under the warm stream of water revelling in the sensation. You know you don’t have much time, but you linger long enough to feel yourself seeping back into your skin. Coming home. Rivulets of cleansing moisture travel down your body, as you let the dirt and the blood and the months on months of heartbreak wash off and away.

--

Prev | Next

[merlinfromberlin]

Just came back from finally, finally, finally getting to watch Transformers: One with my roommate.

Overall, it was an absolute blast. :D I had so much fun and am seriously considering going to watch it again next week.

Loved Bee so much, honestly, maybe my favourite blorbo in the movie (which was to be expected).

I can also confirm that I'm still a disgusting Optimus-is-Bee's-dad-truther. Even if that means I have to headcanon him as sounding younger than he did in the movie.

Spoilery-thoughts below the cut for everyone who hasn't seen the movie yet.

However, I have a few not so savory feelings about the double standard regarding Autobots and Decepticons committing acts of violence in the movie. It kind of took me out of the story a few times.

Like, we see Orion (rightfully!) talking down D-16 from killing Starscream. And then, not even five minutes later, Orion rips apart one of Sentinel's soldiers. It's never adressed. It's never condemned. Like. What?

And it's not the only thing, the movie is kinda hypocritical about it:

D-16 trying to kill Starscream (bad)

Orion ripping apart one of Sentinel's soldiers (good, bad-ass)

Orion, D-16, B-127 & Elita-1 fighting back against Sentinel's soldiers (good)

B-127 accidentally - and then not so accidentally - killing Sentinel's soldiers (good, funny)

B-127 destroying the broadcasting office and scaring the reporters (kinda bad, but also funny)

Megatron ripping apart Sentinel (bad)

(That's probably not every scene with violence but it's the ones I remember best)

I don't say that I disagree with the movie regarding it's portrayal of Megatron's violence. Optimus was right to try and stop Megatron both times. I'm also not saying that Sentinel Prime's execution and Starscream's attempted execution are the same as Sentinel's soldiers being killed in battle/self-defence. I'm also not saying that the miners/High Guard/our little troop were wrong to fight back.

However, there is a definite bias in this movie when it comes to framing violence.

I mean, we see both Orion and Megatron tear a guy in half, but only one of those instances is condemned. The other one is glossed over/celebrated as a bad-ass battle move.

Furthermore, violence is only ever framed as something objectable if it's committed against named characters. I don't think that it's random that Autobots only ever fight Sentinel's unnamed, faceless soldiers. Similar to the Vehicons in TFP, they are implied to be clones simply by their identical designs - which, somehow, makes violence against them acceptable.

I'm really disappointed that this movie falls into the popular action movie tropes of "As long as it's the good guys committing violence it's okay and you don't have to worry about it." and "You should only feel empathy for Storm Troopers when we tell you to - aka when we give them a face."

Now, other, more minor things:

I squelad when I first saw Jazz! :D I was so happy for him to be there because I had no clue that he would be in the movie. He's become one of my favourite characters these past few months so I was really, really happy for him to be there. ^^

Cybertron was also absolutely beautiful. The movie, in general, was very very pretty.

I am also a big fan that, this time, most of the Autobots started out as cog-less miners and Iacon's underclass (not all of them - Chromia, for example, would be an exception).

Most of the Autobots being basically middle-caste while a lot of the Decepticons started out as miners and lower-caste bots is one of the few things that irks me about TFP.

Love that the main threat of this movie (trilogy?) are the Quintessons. I literally didn't even know that they existed until I watched Cyberverse in July and I got so excited about seeing them! So glad I managed to avoid having that part spoiled. ^^

Also, so sorry to the guy who spoke B-127, but I got jumpscared every time I heard his voice. Bee behaved so much younger than he sounded. Which probably makes sense considering that he was stuck with only three dolls for company for Primus knows how long.

Won't stop me from headcanoning stuff, though.

Edit: I thought about this some more since yesterday in the evening and I think that was mainly a mixture of headcanons and projection speaking. You can read him as young, you don't have to. Isolation is f'ed up.

[kedsandtubesocks]

for @the-wild-wolves-around-you @ofmermaidstories and @willowser because you each deserve some good mando baku 🩶

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆

“Wait mandalorians can get married?” You are more curious than anything and the question leaves you before you can even keep your mouth shut.

All focus is on the crowd before you. Everyone, including the familiar crimson beskar wearing warrior Kirishima, rushed to congratulate the two other mandalorians who stepped out of the tent. The couple simply walked out, announced they were married, and immediately celebration broke forth so fast, so bright it stole your breath. There was no question from the others, only joy and trust. You understood different cultures had various marriage traditions. Yet this one was so different than the other grand ceremonies composed of elegant gowns and fully packed banquet halls. It felt...more intimate.

“Yes we can marry, shitty Jedi.” Bakugo sounds almost offended and your heart crumbles fast into your stomach. This tentative whatever the two of you have forged is important to you and you don’t want to shatter it.

You apologize and mean it. “I didn’t know. The ceremony seemed so fast and private though.”

“It is.” Bakugo’s modulated voice drops softer through the helmet.

“Don’t know if it’s true, but there’s some old ass urban legend the first mandalorian marriage was done during battle. No ceremony, no pompous bullshit. The two just exchanged vows in the middle of battle to bind their lives together.”

An image surges fast in your mind. Two ancient warriors fighting side by side, the trenches of battle pushing the lovers further and further to the terrifying realization they might not see tomorrow. Their love, bloodstained and battle born.

“Legend says the shit they vowed became the vows mandalorians have said ever since.”

It’s a beautiful, sacred and so simple. But it conjures up a deadly new thought in your mind -

An army of storm troopers surrounds you. The ache of battle soaks you to your bones. Your body barely stands back to back against beskar. Suddenly you move without thinking. You turn fast towards the fierce mandalorian. With your lightsaber in one hand, the other reaches out to him and you find the familiar beautiful black colored beskar helmet is already looking at you. Without hesitation he grabs your hand-

You exhale loud, blinking back into reality as you mentally stab those thoughts away.

“That’s beautiful.” You truthfully admit, admiring as a grateful outsider. “I'm thinking the ceremonies are private for the sake of the helmet removal.”

“Yeah. S'why even other mandalorians aren't usually around when it happens. And cause...” Bakugo’s modulated gruff voice trails off. “…Shit, I’m going to sound even more ridiculous-”

“You won’t I promise.” You interrupt reassuring him as your eyes finally glance at him. His helmet is slightly tilted towards you. He sighs and looks back out to the crowd. You do as well.

“The vows, they're important. No one but us or those we're marrying can know them.“

They are meant to be said in private for that reason. The sacredness of knowing is too precious, meant to be shared with someone special. An aggressive curiosity claws at you. You want to know what is spoken and vowed. You rationalize this curiosity as simply wanting to understand the culture more. However, the force whispers the true reason why into the deep caverns of your heart and you cannot even face that truth yet.

The lightsaber silent on your hip weighs more than an entire galaxy.

“Hey guys!” Kirishima, loud and warm even through his helmet. “Isn’t it great?”

“It is.” You answer with a warm earnest grin. “I hope everyone gets to celebrate with the newlyweds.”

“Oh yeah! We already got a few plans in mind.” Kirishima’s voice holds a playful grin in it. Even though you cannot see his face you believe it to be just as bright as the two moons shining above.

“This making you think about your own upcoming ceremony, huh Bakugo?!” Then Kirishima’s words grab your heart. He slaps Bakugo’s shoulder playfully and the clanging clash of beskar hitting beskar makes your mind rattle.

“Get the fuck out of here.” Bakugo’s snarl is sharp, piercing. You had never even heard him talk this way to his fellow commander.

“Alright, alright I get it. Those pre marriage jitters I’m sure get to everyone even you!” Kirishima however is not phased one bit. He waves a playful goodbye and returns to the celebrating.

But it leaves you two alone again. The air is thin and tight. Even with the warm laughs and celebration bubbling so close, a dread builds.

“You’re…getting married?” Your voice is small, a bit confused. You do not even recognize it.

A moment passes.

“I…yeah.” He replies. The words puncture a hole in your chest and air is rapidly escaping. A hollowness quickly fills up the gaping space.

“It’s a political arrangement between the different clans.” Bakugo’s voice is composed, but it does not sound like him.

In the entire time you have known this warrior, you had never once heard him speak about his betrothed, much less about his impending marriage. And…you had never once heard him speak this quiet, almost distant.

“Oh.” Your voice mirrors his, just as quietly detached.

“Congratulations then.” You hate that you cannot find a single thread of celebration in your tone or feel any earnestly as the hollowness consumes you.

“I'm praying for the poor sucker stuck with marrying you.” You jokingly tease but the minute the words leave you, your eyes start to sting. Your lips twitch and the taste of tears comes in the back of your throat. An ache you cannot even process yet has the force retreating from you like a sacred small creature. All you do is simply swallow everything back.

Bakugo stays quiet, does not even respond to your jest or thank you for the congratulations.

Under the light of the two moons, the cheers of the marriage celebration continue to illuminate the air.

And you walk away, not saying another word.