#captain Howzer x oc

[starqueensthings]

FOREWORD | NEXT | AO3

We begin our journey with the protagonist. This chapter will read dry for those only here for our Clone Wars and Bad Batch favourites. Since it’s an introductory chapter, it’s strictly OC’s in this one… (squint real hard and you may find a glimpse of one our faves!)

WARNINGS: brief elusions to a traumatic past, but next to no detail provided (yet). Mildly graphic descriptions of medical injuries and surgery.

RATING: the entirety of this work will be classified as 16+ for mature themes, with sporadic chapters upped to 18+ for explicit encounters.

PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED ABOVE FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The unusually abrasive whirring of his hip servos both alerted her of his arrival, and wordlessly reminded her for the umpteenth time that the congestion of her work schedule had rendered him irresponsibly overdue for an oil bath, though neither that irksome grating nor his return to her side proved urgent enough to pull her attention from the task at hand.

He slowed to a stop and hovered in the doorway of that rapidly darkening office, hinged hands clasped together in front of him while his round, glowing oculars patiently blinked at the obvious intensity of her concentration.

She allowed herself only a breath more to wallow in that den of self-pity and exhaustion, the raging tornado of unfinished tasks in her mind threatening to raze what was left of the mental space she’d intentionally attempted to preserve for finishing the three dozen neglected medical reports.

“Hi Lumi...”

She addressed her AZI assistant in a shamefully distracted mumble, fingers hovering over the buttons of her keyboard as she fought to orient her over-saturated thoughts into the holocomputer through the fidgeting funnel of her hands.

“Good evening, Dr. Kiore.” Correctly identifying her current aversion for distraction, her droid companion thankfully offered nothing more than his typical jovial salutation.

The last couple of weeks had seen this duo truly depart the somewhat turbulent infancy of their working relationship, and the wrinkles of unknown expectation and unlearned behavior had since-been ironed smooth with the steam of shared experience and consistent reinforcement. Free of the bravado that budding surgical residents wore atop their shoulders like robes sewn with the threads of overconfidence, Lumi had become a remarkable working companion to June. Not only did his programming ensure he had a wealth of easily accessible medical knowledge, but he wasn’t hindered by the limited cognition of the human brain, being able to accurately process and categorize large amounts of data while simultaneously completing a variety of other tasks whilst entirely free from the plague of exhaustion.

Much to her appreciation, he’d also managed to effectively catalogue her dynamic panoply of mannerisms, thus ensuring he could readily identify her preferred positioning during specific procedures, recognize the potent displeasure behind her eyes if (and when) the nurse droid failed to include certain niche tools on her sterile tray, and presently, her sheer desperation for an extra ten seconds of undisturbed focus.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, collecting the hospital-issued datapad from the desk in front of her and ceasing its slumber with the prod of a finger. Her tired eyes danced across the seemingly infinite list of medical charts waiting for their turn at the forefront of her mind, and it was with another dejected sigh that she checked off only the top item before abandoning the device again.

Tense from yet another long day of stooping over an operating room table, the muscles in her neck immediately protested the duress of a stretch as she extended her arms over her head and flexed her aching fingers. Refusing to lessen the strain until a satisfying pop met her ears, she paused for a moment to relish in the pain successfully distracting her from that perpetual gnaw in her mind.

“Alright,” she proclaimed suddenly, sending her palms clapping together in a gesture of feigned motivation, and Lumi immediately took his cue to enter, head twirling about on his neck with glee. “I need you to go to room 8-E,” she instructed while pushing her desk chair backward several inches with a nudge from her sneakered toe. “CT-2658 needs a preliminary vitals scan and a thoracic x-ray. Once those are completed, transmit the imaging to his chart and locate an FX-9 to prep him for a thoracotomy. This morning I just caught the nurse droid replacing the valve in his mask with the wrong colour… If it gets changed again before he’s anesthetized, make sure it’s the yellow valve. No incisions until I or a 2-1B is present.”

“Right away, Dr. Kiore.”

“Oh, and he goes by ‘Bolts’. Avoid using his CT number unless you absolutely have to.”

Lumi acknowledged her final anecdote with a small bow of the head before he turned and zoomed back through the open door into the hallway beyond.

The budding ache behind her left eye intensified as she watched his small metallic form circle the Welcome Station, an oversized u-shaped desk perched in the middle of the expansive ward, before pivoting and vanishing down the hallway on the left, and the increasing need to activate the lamp on her desk meant it was nearing the time her stomach would begin to revolt against her negligence, that measly handful of mixed nuts tossed hurriedly into her mouth some hours ago having utterly failed to satiate even a fraction of her hunger.

But time had vanished… again, and June was confident there wasn’t a meal anywhere in the galaxy capable of freeing her from the constant overstimulation that working in the Grand Republic Medical Facility had imbued her with over the last fortnight. And so her fingernails drummed absently on the desk in front of her as another exhausted sigh escaped her nose, both gestures laying bare her body’s continued attempts at combating the gale of patient information whipping about her mind. Resisting the urge to momentarily abandon that pressing obligation and head to the staff room for a fresh caf, she granted herself only another moment of quiet, the mental weight of her extensive to-do list keeping her glued to the cushion of her desk chair despite the near-rabid craving for both caffeine and a snack. Nibbling absentmindedly on her thumbnail, she redirected her attention back to the holocomputer in front of her and opened Bolts’s medical chart.

The wounded soldier had arrived at the hospital in the very early hours of the morning, having been medically evacuated from a planet called Malestare in critical condition. The triaging doctor in the emergency room at the time had quickly diagnosed the soldier with a condition known as ‘Flail Chest’, and had directed him to the Surgical Department on the 8th floor immediately thereafter.

The accompanying trooper was the company’s medic, and was only able to provide snippets of the harrowing and incomplete story. When probed for information about the initial incident, he described witnessing a series of explosions “about a kilometer south” of his squad’s tactical position, though admittedly had a poor vantage point at the time of the incident. He’d barely managed to rendezvous with the limping remnants of his decimated platoon before being urgently summoned to stabilize the wounded– Bolts included.

“I had to dart his chest,” the panting Medic heaved to the emergency doctor downstairs, wiping sweat from his brow with a trembling hand as he watched his brother disappear behind a small crowd of scrub-clad nurses, each of them fervently ripping the remaining armour from that fragile form. “Twice. The catheter held for a while, but collapsed just as we were jumping to lightspeed. He– he needs to be intubated… quick.”

With hurried reassurances that CT-2658 was now in the best care, the medic was ushered back onto the shuttle and returned to the front lines while his brother was rushed upstairs for lifesaving care.

Dr. Pherto Pavot, a highly intelligent albeit moderately antisocial man, was a longtime colleague of June’s and had been laden with the duty of on-call trauma surgeon for the duration of the night shift. With the assistance of an FX-7 medical droid, he’d managed to both successfully intubate the patient and send him for x-rays by the time the morning surgeons began to trickle in for their shifts only a short time later.

June had barely tied her sneakers before leaping into action. Determined to get the ailing soldier into surgery before her day was through, she took every spare moment she could find between the myriad of other scheduled procedures to dip into her office and stare at the radiographic imaging Pherto ordered that morning.

Now, as the sun completed its arc across the expanse of the Coruscanti sky, reaching its rays downwards for the cold slumber of the horizon, she was barely able to overpower the persistent pokes of exhaustion.

“Blunt force trauma from an undetermined source to the thoracic cavity–” she typed, jaw clamped closed against a violent yawn as she plugged data into the Kaminoan medical report her colleague had initiated many hours previously. “–Right 3rd to 6th rib fractured laterally, floating. Basal intercostal catheter in situ. Slight left pleural effusion. Prognosis TBD post surgery.”

She sighed, eyes peering disapprovingly at the screen of her holocomputer where Pherto’s hurried notes failed to complement the detail of her own, and the detrimental, perfectionist urge to delete the entire report in favour or starting over was nearly as challenging to repress as the yawn that continued to plague her, though she refused both. ‘Sorry Kamino,’ she grumbled, acutely aware that attempting to pull another word from her brain might cause it to simply cease firing entirely. ‘That's going to have to do.’

With a deft swipe across the screen from the pad of her cold finger, she landed on the patient’s main profile page. Despite having resentfully expected to see that irksome negative space beside his designation number, the implication of that missing information instantly soured her already dwindling mood, sending her eyelids aflutter atop an exquisite roll of her blue eyes.

As an attending general surgeon, she did not technically hold any amount of authority over her colleagues, though that had yet to stop her from repeatedly begging everyone in the Hospital to make a habit of prompting soldiers for their elected moniker upon intake. Much to her frustration, all of them continued to ignore her relentless pleas; intra-hospital memos went ignored, verbal requests were casually dismissed, ingenuine agreements were immediately followed by inaction. Even escalating the issue to the Chief of Surgery with hopes that her request may transcend the Surgical Floor had proved fruitless, as he had promptly deemed the issue “unimportant for effective medical care, and superfluous data in an already cluttered medical chart.”

‘Easy for him to say,’ she had seethed to herself, stalking away from her superior with the raging, indignant cry of “I am not just a number!” still reverberating poignantly in her ears. While there hadn’t been a clone soldier brazen enough to shout that sentiment in her face since that… eventful… day, the nuance of his message had not fallen on deaf ears, and it quickly became a personal mission of June’s to ensure that her patients, a demographic that now predominantly consisted of clone soldiers, never felt like anything less than a person in need of medical care.

Returning the holocomputer to a dark-screened slumber, she sat back in her chair and finally permitted that unrelenting yawn to contort her features as it expanded her lungs and forced her eyes closed. The shiver that rolled uncomfortably down her spine acted as an unsavoury reminder of how late the hour had grown, and she pivoted her chair to face the window of her office, hopeful to catch that last sliver of beautiful autumn sun before it commenced its duty until morn.

Unlike her best friend Jacoba, whose earliest memories included running amok in her parents’ home with a stethoscope made of string and a pair of purple safety scissors, June’s childhood dreams did not entail ending up as a surgeon in the busiest medical facility in the galaxy. While convincing her to speak about her childhood typically proved more challenging than pulling teeth from a snarling massiff, those closest to June knew that her earliest memories were ones filled with nature: impossibly tall pillars of pine swaying in an everlasting zephyr; rolling hills adorned with an emerald carpet of clover and jewel toned flowers, the vibrancy of their exotic petals possible thanks to the extended daylight hours that only Wild Space was privileged. Acting as the apex to her childhood oasis, and perched at the end of a winding path of uniquely red clay, was a small log home; its stone chimney mercilessly emitting delicate puffs of fragrant smoke toward an impossibly large sky, and the hand-knotted hammock chair hanging from the rafters on the porch, swayed in time with the trees. It was a dichotomously sheltered yet wild upbringing, full of innocent and simple dreams; hopes and desires and plans that reached only the stars of Wild Space.

Back then, June was naught but a tiny mind, desperately hopeful to gain only that of which she was knew: a cozy home nestled between protective mountains, an overflowing rain barrel infinitely teeming with signs of micro-life, a bustling market of familiar faces, a treehouse on the edge of a forest too full of exotic flora and fauna for her to wander unsupervised, a soft blanket for a picnic, a spike to impale one of her favourite mini sausages and a roaring fire into which she could roast it…

Now, long-estranged from her family and far away from that place both geographically and mentally, life looked a lot different for Dr. Juniper Kiore. Robbed long ago of that blissful childhood naivety, she was now a hard working young woman of twenty-three with no plans to return to the home world she still deemed the galaxy’s hidden corner of paradise.

As another shiver rolled down her spine, she cast a quick glance toward the accompanying desk in that shared office; the clutter and detritus Jacoba was notorious for deserting atop that otherwise identical desktop patiently awaited its owner to arrive for her shift and plunk her purse down amidst the fray. X-Ray films from the hectivity of yesterday still clung to the backlit display board on the wall, the series of luminous images depicting a grotesquely cracked skull and the adjacent cranial hemorrhage, and a femur shattered beyond recognition.

Interpreting the permission of that first yawn as authorization to open the floodgates, June’s cheeks quickly expanded under the duress of a second yawn barely seconds after recovering from the first, forcing her eyes closed again. With an indecorous grunt, she cracked each of her cold knuckles, relishing in the way that discomfort pulled her farther out of the stupor of fatigue before she turned to retrieve the caf mug perched beside her keyboard.

“Bleh…” she grumbled instantly, lips flattening in disgust as she swirled the anaemic dregs around the bottom of the ceramic cup. There were unmistakable signs of the milk beginning to coagulate, collecting around the sides of the purple dish with each twirl of the wrist. ‘Isn’t this the mug I grabbed at lunch?’ she asked herself, eyes unfocussing under knitted brows as she struggled to piece together the hurried two minutes in which she’d dashed to the staff room for caffeine some half dozen hours ago. ‘Or maybe this is the caf from last night, and that’s the caf from today?’

Her gaze fell upon a second mug sitting daintily beside the potted plant only inches from her right hand, identical to the first in every way with the exception of a small chip along the rim, stained with a lip gloss that she was sure she hadn’t bothered to put on in several rotations.

She traded one for the other, repeating the swirling motions and watching the minute dash of milk collect in the centrifuge of dark liquid. Bringing the chipped rim to her nose, she took a gentle sniff.

“June—”

Every cell in her body, every hair on her skin, collectively seized in alarm, shoulders jerking upwards in a startled spasm while a sharp gasp slapped against the back of her throat. That panic only intensified as, what could only be described as a miniature tidal wave of the stale beige caf, cascaded over the rim of that chipped purple mug and landed with a splat on her left knee.

“Maker, you scared the shit out of me,” she gasped, pressing a hand over her pounding heart and stowing the cup heavily back onto the desk.

“Sorry.” Challa snorted from his casual lean in the threshold, arms folded over his chest. “When is Jac coming in?” he asked, gesturing with a small nod to the empty desk chair on June’s left side.

She stalled the answer on her tongue, stealing an extended second for another calming breath as her heart continued to smash against the inner walls of her chest. “She won't be here for another half hour,” June finally conceded, tipping her wrist to check the time.

‘18:56pm. No wonder I’m kriffing starving.’

He offered nothing but a small hum in response, that heavy, signature Twi-lek brow tense with unspoken complaints as if he wholly disapproved that he couldn’t simply demand the clock say what he wanted it to say.

Dr. Challa Shuk was a fiercely intelligent and highly celebrated doctor with an inherent knack for organization and a remarkably efficient, yet, consistently pleasant bedside manner; the combination proving a perfect recipe for the individual tasked with running the second busiest department in the hospital.

Seemingly overnight, the inception of the war had shifted the priorities and policies of the institution to accommodate for the Grand Army of the Republic, incidentally bringing with it the ever-present undertone of tumult and uncertainty for the staff throughout. Being the determined and capable doctor that he was, Challa rose to the occasion marvelously, shouldering the brunt of the responsibility and almost single-handedly converting the Surgical Floor from a slow-paced civilian center to a bustling combat medical zone. But, despite his unwavering commitment to both the Grand Republic Medical Facility and to medicine in general, his acceptance of the changing reality, and the shifts in policy required to ensure a smooth transition, were not widely accepted by his employees; many of the surgical department doctors were highly resistant to the procedural changes and the variation in their established routine that came with it.

June and Jacoba were the only caveats to this unfortunate behaviour, both of them still early enough in their careers to embrace the required alterations with barely a breath of skepticism. Their adaptability had earned them both significant favour with the Twi’lek Chief of Surgery, and a number of other rarely anointed perks: both girls had been gifted their own AZI-class medical assistant droid to which they were permitted to utilize for whatever means they deemed appropriate, both were allotted the unheralded freedom to implete their own surgical schedules (much to their colleagues dismay), and the duo had been presented with their own office, an offering typically reserved for those who’d transitioned toward a career in the field medical research.

But Challa’s favourtism of the pair had seemed to sour as of late, the jovial smiles he typically offered in response to their notorious shenanigans had melded into snorts of derision and subdued grimaces. Last Primeday had seen him stick his scowling face into their office and bark that Jacoba’s chair had developed an irritating squeak that needed to be rectified immediately; two days later, he’d summoned June into his own office and reprimanded her for having inappropriately cold hands, hissing that he was growing very tired of fielding continued patient complaints that their doctor’s fingers felt like icicles. While moderately affronted at the time, June merely shouldered the chastization, both unable to deny that her hands were always cold, and very aware that root of his bespoiled mood did not stem from the subnormal temperature of her skin…

“You weren’t about to drink that were you?” Challa inquired from the door, nose scrunched in disgust as he watched her snatch a kleenex from the box on the desk and dab at the stain on her pant leg.

She huffed and rolled her eyes, watching the unabsorbent paper square fail to remove even a fraction of that putrid stain. “I was thinking about it,” she retorted, crinkling the tissue and tossing it into the trash bin under her desk. “I was trying to sniff out how old it was when you gave me a damn heart attack.”

“How ladylike of you,” he teased, ignoring her reproachful glare. “And there’s no time for caf right now. I heard you agreed to stay late again tonight, so I need you on deck to tackle this case.” He shifted his weight to his feet and unfolded his arms, pulling his datapad from the breast pocket of his lab coat and prodding it awake. “I’m transmitting you the chart of your next patient,” he advised, violet eyes appearing neon whilst bathed by the illumination from the device in his hands. “It’s a simple laceration repair sent up from the emergency department, but it’s been sitting for a while and the FX-7’s are still tied up. See that it’s dealt with and discharged, and then meet me in my office.”

Her datapad chimed from the table in front of her, needlessly alerting the room that she’d successfully received the details of her next mission though she refused to acknowledge it, her sapphire eyes now narrowed skeptically at her boss. An abashed silence filled the space between them as he averted his eyes from hers, the atypical nature of his request not lost on either of them.

“A laceration repair?” June repeated with an unmitigated scoff, cocking an eyebrow at his obviously intentional silence. “From emerge? Are you kidding me?”

Her incredulity must have been the expected response, as he’d already reached to pinch the narrow bridge of his nose before she’d finished voicing her aggrievement.

“Eight battalions landed at lunch, June,” he declaimed over her final few words, eyes closed against a wave of barely-restrained impatience. “They’re beyond swamped down there. And like I just told you, this one has been sitting for too long already. I want it dealt wi—”

“But Rondi is the on-call trauma doc today,” June protested, gesticulating wildly towards the door as if Dr. Rondi Reid was eagerly waiting outside her office to accept the umbrageously trivial case being thrust under her nose. “And I’m only staying late to do the thoracotomy. I just sent him downstairs for prelim scan—”

“Jacoba will scrub in when she gets here,” Challa exhorted, dismissing her disgruntlement with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I have something important to discuss with you afterward and we both know that surgery would have you here all night.”

The ire bubbling in her gut rendered her apathetic to everything other than the injustice of the situation, and the pleading flash of his violet eyes was missed entirely as she clamped hers closed and choked out a dramatic whine.

“Challa come on,” she begged, lurching forward in her chair and interlacing her hands in a feigned prayer, “I’ve been staring at his x-days all day. I basically just redid his entire Kaminoan report because some people can’t be bothered with details, I know this case the best. That’s my surgery.”

“You will go where you’re needed, Kiore, and I won’t hear another word about it.”

The conversation was over, his statement drenched in a finality more potent than the stench of that day old caf. The rapidly darkening tone of his voice in combination with the uncommon use of her last name meant there was no point but to concede to his authority, and it was with great difficulty that she bit back the slew of arguments still poised for their turn on her tongue.

“Fine,” she grumbled, looking deliberately away from his stern expression and collecting the datapad from her desk. “But this ‘meeting in your office later’ better be a party in my honour for being such a kriffing team player.”

“Not quite,” he abjured following a frustrated albeit amused snort. “Now get to 18-S. And for everyone’s sake, leave the attitude here.”

June glared at his retreating figure, waiting until the tips of those magnificent, sand coloured lekku disappeared down the hall before throwing herself dramatically against the back of the chair, an insolent groan rumbling loudly in her chest.

“Laceration repair!” she hissed to the ceiling, the realization that a fresh cup of caf was now entirely out of the question pulling a false sob from her lips. “My thoracotomy… all damn day I’ve been prepping… ‘they’re swamped down there’… yeah, yeah… aren’t we all…”

It seemed no amount of grousing and groaning would appease the indignance still inflated in her chest, and her datapad continued to mock her with its innocent luminance as she tipped her head forward and roughly pulled her long dark hair into a ponytail. When she had affixed her mane firmly to the nape of her neck, June begrudgingly snatched the device from her desk and opened the holochart Challa had so graciously gifted.

DSGN: CT-5863 GEN: 1–B RNK: Captain (742nd)

ASSN SECT: 91st MRC DRCT SPVR: CT-411 STATUS: Active Duty

Assigned priority: CLASS D. OPEN WOUND: NON life-threatening.

Intake notes: subdermal lac. quadrant 6— full thickness separation, jagged edges from unknown source. PT reluctant to divulge cause of injury. PT uncooperative when offered NBA injection. Declined having accepted NBA from combat medic at time of injury. Advised to remove all vesture from waist up. Hema scan still outstanding.

“Oh fantastic,” June griped to the cactus on the desk, her mood now as prickly as it’s sharp little spines. “Refused a pain injection— twice, has been sitting here for Maker-knows how long, nobody remembered to ask his kriffing name, and I have no Lumi to transcribe for me. A glorious ending to another glorious day.”

She tucked the datapad aggressively into her armpit and stalked from the office, flicking her ponytail onto her shoulder as she went.

The bedlam of the open ward met her at the mouth of the hallway, that staggering din nearly forcing her eyes to narrow against the onslaught of noise as she made her way around the unusually barren welcome station. The dissonant harmony of a dozen monitors, shrilly beeping in the chorus of chaos, echoed around the white walls and attacked her eardrums with a gusto that she hadn’t quite become accustomed to yet. The deserted nature of that central hub was immediately explained by the sheer pandemonium lining the hallways, and every other step toward 18-S saw her ducking out of the way of a rolling FX-7 droid, hurrying to answer its urgent summons.

The egregious sound of violent gagging assaulted her ears as she passed room 12-N, shortly followed by the spectacular splat of what could only have been vomit hitting the floor. ‘Control your face,’ she reminded herself, upper lip quickly flattening in disgust as she back-peddled to that doorway and prodded the button that would summon both a sanitation droid and the nearest surgical student.

Room 18-S was the second last room of the south wing, and bore the classification of ‘Outpatient Room’, meaning it was only modestly equipped, and outfitted for only minimally invasive, single treatment procedures. The hoverbeds were never prepared for an overnight stay unlike those in the Northern and Eastern halls, and in place of the large diagnostic scanners that typically consumed all available real estate on those sterile grey walls, were lockers acting as safe storage for the overflow for other rooms, and containing a varied assortment of extra medical supplies, sterile tool packs, and maintenance equipment.

Doing her best to resurrect whatever was left of her dwindling patience, she stopped in front of the closed door of her destination. Praying to the stars above that whoever was waiting on the other side was neither vomiting on the floor like the poor chap in room 12, and didn’t feel the need to berate her about his heinously long wait, she knocked gently on that steel barrier and waited.

***

FOREWORD | NEXT

Tag list: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @moonlightwarriorqueen @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator

[morerandombullshit]

NEW FIC

i know it's not WIP Wednesday but i was in my Howzer feels over the summer, and i decided "fuck it why not make a Howzer x nonbinary OC fic" and then to torture myself more, i made it fucking 40+ chapters BUT

BUT

idk when the prologue is gonna be out, i dunno when i'm gonna get to this or at all, but it WILL be out. i WILL write this, my motivation is unparalleled and my hand is fucking cramping but who cares that is the pain of a writer who writes their stuff on paper first ANYWAYYY

there'll be AO3 and Tumblr versions, and since i'm nice, i'll let y'all have an excerpt of it i'm only five chapters in, six if you count the prologue send help

this is from Howzer's POV but:

I let Lantis cry, no matter how much the sight pains me. I still hold their shaking, heaving body in my arms, my chin on top of their head. Even after a year apart, we slip back into how we were before they had to leave. Stars, I wish they never had to leave. We both knew they'd had to, but I'd been right—right in saying we'd always find our way back to each other. My hand brushes through their hair, the collarbone-length chocolate brown waves soft under my touch. They'd cut two front pieces to just below their chin and bleached the strips, but other than that, they're unchanged. Unharmed. They're still my Lantis. Dangerous thoughts to have, but I've been imprisoned for the Maker knows how long, and I'd kept the memory of my friend alive to stay sane. "How is it you're still so short?" I tease after a moment. I get a punch to the chest, but it barely phases me. "You ass." Lantis mutters into my shoulder. "I can't even grow anymore." "Doesn't mean you have to stay at five foot four." I quip back, laughing when they mutter, "And a half." "Overcompensate all you want." I smile to myself. "it doesn't change the fact that I'm still taller than you, sarad."

also because i'm a music person i put 4 ish (sometimes 5 or 6 songs) a chapter for this thing, prologue included

178 songs and 10 hours and 16 minutes later..... i live to suffer for my writing and art

[moonstrider9904]

Stargazing

Pairings: Captain Howzer x Female OC (Athena Allard)

Series summary: Athena has spent a long time on Coruscant working as an administrative for the Republic - too long. Fed up with that lifestyle, Athena returns to her home planet, a forest-type planet far in the Outer Rim, also used by the GAR for peaceful operations, and Athena eventually meets the captain of the battalion in charge. Can she return home to the fullest when it feels like the GAR followed her to the ends of the galaxy?

Series rating: Explicit 18+ for sexual content in many chapters

{main masterlist} {AO3 link} {Wattpad link}

Status: coming soon

Chapter 1 - Flimsiwork (coming soon!)

Chapters with a * contain smut. More chapters TBD.

Other resources

Athena Allard profile (coming soon!)

[starrylothcat]

LOVE the idea for the follower celebration! And congrats!! 💕 I’m gonna shamelessly spam the crap out of it and you can pleeeease feel free to use your discretion to ruthlessly cut some or all from the lineup. 😂😘

I’m unabashedly in love with this Howzer x Fem!OC full length fic that I wrote… 🙈🤣 I think it’s got playfulness, character growth, action, romance, yearning, angst, adventure, passion, and is just a fun ride overall. It’s done for now, til TBB S3 shows me the rest of Howzer’s story, but I left it in a nice pause place, not a cliffhanger. It’s thoroughly researched to be canon-compliant and is SFW but rated PG-13 for the various content tagged at the top of the post. 💕 I’ll be posting chapters daily here and people can request to be on the tag list, but the entire work is on Ao3 for people who don’t want to wait. 😂

xoxo

https://www.tumblr.com/freesia-writes/721894443901403136/quantum-entanglement-howzer-aurelia-master

Ahhh thank you for the first submission! I’m all for self recommendation hell ya!

Howzer is up there in my favorite clones and I just read the first three chapters of this fic. I LOVE Aurelia already and Howzer being a confident, cocky shiny is everything. I’ll definitely be keeping up with this one! Awesome work @freesia-writes 😁

If you love Howzer check this out y’all!

Starry’s Spread the Love Event

[masterjedilenawrites]

Ready Or Not

Howzer x fem!S/O | 1.9k words

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

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

Part of Operation #MoreHowzerFics

He did not have time for this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Howzer's eyes widened in realization. Kriff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now it was her turn to frown.

"You... you're disappointed?"

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

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

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

"Sir? Sir!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She paused and smiled at him over her shoulder.

"Hope."

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

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[captn-trex]

— captn-trex masterlist

all works are x f!reader unless specified!

if you like a fic I would really appreciate a reblog <3 tumblr thrives on sharing and so do I ! if you want, you can be added to/removed from my taglist here :)

— series

technical devotion: echo x fem! original character — complete, 72k words, 24 parts

threads of the unseen: ahsoka x f!reader

part one: tread carefully | 5.4k part two: forging connection [coming soon]

— oneshots

501st legion

captain rex let me take care of you [16+] | 5.7k make it feel better [18+] | 4.3k playing pretend | 4.2k where trust falls apart | 4.7k fall of an empire | no pairing | 1.4k

arc trooper fives gone, but not forgotten | 4.4k ↳ how to feel again | 3.1k my kingdom for a kiss [18+] | 8.7k

clone medic kix a tricky situation | 2.8k

clone trooper hardcase oldest trick in the book | 3.4k

the bad batch

sergeant hunter a little while longer | 4.1k a half-hearted escape | 3.4k

clone trooper tech we never quite made it | 10k

misc. clones 

commander wolffe words in my mouth | 3.7k consequences be damned | 3.3k

commander fox read between the lines | 8.1k

captain howzer angel of small death [18+] part 1, part 2, part 3 | 24k

[yamiyamiart]

kiss practice with all the clone pookies plus first time drawing Howzer

[starqueensthings]

PREV | NEXT | FOREWORD | MASTER | AO3

Summary: June joins Howzer on a mission for caffeine. She learns a little about his role, his men, his outlook— and he, unknowingly, helps her navigate her struggle as a teacher. For a fleeting moment, June forgets to uphold that self indoctrinated distaste… that long-upheld aversion. For a moment, his companionship feels like nothing she’s ever felt before… nothing that she’d ever permitted herself to entertain… enjoy. But a moment is just a moment. Enjoy the roller coaster of this chapter— please remember certain aspects of a character (snippets of dialogue, facial expressions, etc) are all specifically placed so the audience can witness growth. We all about growth up in this house!

Rating/WC: all chapters are rated 16+ unless stated otherwise | 4475 words.

PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED BELOW FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The jubilant breeze tumbling throughout the confines of the courtyard perched just opposite those glass doors instantly brandished her hair from her shoulders, beaming rays pouring mercilessly from overhead instantly capitalizing on the opportunity to remind her enraged skin of its power, and she near-winced upon feeling her neck prickle neath its unwelcome intensity. 

“You okay?” Howzer asked as they trod down the half dozen stairs toward the locked gate, seemingly noting the sudden cringe atop her features. 

“Yeah, fine,” June answered casually. “Spent too much time by the pool with my friend the other day and I’m still paying for it.” 

“I saw that,” he chuckled, offering a sympathetic little grimace. “I’d offer some advice but I honestly can’t say I’ve ever had too bad of a sunburn.” 

“Yeah, well… Quit braggin’,” June demanded with a smile. “I say this to my best friend all the time: not all of us are gloriously melanous.” 

A tingle unrelated to that overhead radiance rolled down her back as his head tipped backward amidst a genuine laugh, and attempting to veil the flush rising rapidly back to her cheeks, she quickly reached to fiddle with the cuff of her sleeve… only to remember she was not wearing long sleeves, instead awkwardly shoving a dawdling finger neath the strap of her watch and giving it an pointless twist around her wrist.

As it turned out, the Combat Base’s close proximity to their chosen cafe perfectly elucidated why Hutchie’s was an establishment of which she’d never heard. Though for how distant it was from the central, senatorial sector of which June was largely familiar, only mere steps atop the pathway leading toward the jovial tinkle of its distant doorbell exposed how just how favoured of a spot it was for the denizens.  

Yet even more astonishing than the steady flow of travel cup-laden patrons, stolling past with their steaming flimsi containers of delightful aromatic caf, was truly how simple it was to converse with the man next to her. Despite the butterflies in her stomach continuing their silent attempts at internal homicide, chatting with Howzer felt as intuitive as simply placing one foot in front of the other atop that bustling pathway. 

Though their first encounter had far superseded the second in terms of duration, the plaguing ailment and the gentle coaxing he’d required before consenting to treatment had, unfortunately, dominated most of their conversation. Their only encounter since had been tragically too-short to engage in anything more than the hopelessly giddy “hi, I have to run but I really hope I’ll see you soon!” sentiments before the pair parted ways with dopey smiles atop their lips. 

And in the void of pain or urgency, it was difficult not to marvel at just how casually that Captain carried himself. Imbued an insouciant energy of which June was sure she’d never be able to embody as effortlessly as Howzer did, breezy probes at conversation spilled from his lips as if he were intrinsically aware of all the topics she could chitter about for hours (though the way that mildly crooked smile wrapped its way around each word had her increasingly confident she would have been perfectly content to just listen to the music of that accented tone). Meanwhile, those large, boot-clad feet moved unhurried toward their destination as if the pathway itself had wordlessly offered to glide below at whatever speed he’d prefer; thankfully he’d defaulted to a cadence more comfortable for her much shorter legs. 

As they wove through the ambling crowd, Howzer gushed about his Company; the 742nd was, admittedly, an anomaly of sorts. Not only did their authority ladder end with a Clone Commander and not the Jedi General that typically apexed large sectors of soldiers, but a period of extensive training in its earliest days of formation had seen those boys in teal thrust into an unusual hybrid role. Though classified as a “reconnaissance collection company subfractured from the 91st”, the 742nd was often deployed, instead, as an “assault and secure force”, meaning they were just as frequently tasked with infiltrating an enemy base and securing its perimeter until such a time that reinforcements could arrive and claim the location as their own. Yet, he spoke of his career with the same admirable informality as he would speak of the weather, reminiscing of battles as if recalling the events of a party he’d recently attended, and though she was sure it had rendered her expression to something near a slack-jawed grouper fish, that  unforeseen disposition had captured June’s attention and simply refused to free it.  

His perspective of war seemed …well, different to anything she’d overheard from soldiers amidst her duties at work. Often those armoured troopers spoke of their duty with an unignorable severity; of the responsibility they carried to both loyally serve and immutably protect the Republic to which they served; of their allegiance to their CO’s, their brethren, and the legion they’d been assigned; of the demand for stoic, unvarying courage in the face of enemies they’d never seen before. Howzer spoke of governing his men as if they were nothing but a bizarrely oversized and appropriately dysfunctional family— ‘vod, he kept calling them before quickly explaining this was a common Mando’a word for brother. He spoke of their battle experiences as if those teal painted men had collectively experienced several disjointed parts of a larger, harrowing adventure; those that were sadly killed on the way were celebrated to a higher degree than those that survived, as the lost had simply moved on to a more exhilarating life of which none of them knew just yet. He spoke of the unremitting desire and obligation to keep his men grounded— to ensure they felt nothing but relative ease and confidence as they marched into the relative unknown… 

“Just in here.” 

June wrenched her gaze from that enamoring square jaw as he slowed his pace and veered slightly toward a glass door on the right, instead redirecting her eyes upward toward the sign overhead. Hung from the soffit by two oversized copper chains, that deep emerald placard and the loopy gold cursive laying bare the name of that little cafe was immediately familiar, June’s mind quickly extracting the image of the tiny green card she'd opened and cherished some days previous. 

“Oh, thank you,” she muttered upon realizing Howzer had pulled the door ajar and was waiting for her to enter ahead of him. 

But hardly a step through the door and into that foreign space had thrust an inherently wholesome fragrance into her nose; unseen steaming loaves of delicious crusty sourdough bread, carafes of fresh caf gurgling just out of sight, crystallized and caramelized sugars mixed with an enticing blend of aromatic spices… vanilla, cardamom, cinnamon, clove… and something earthy and deeply familiar. 

Though her olfactory system seemed instantly content enough to simply stand atop that threshold and breathe in those potent whiffs of sheer delight, the opportunity was usurped by just how visually overwhelming the interior of that tiny shop was. 

“Wow,” June whispered, gaze dancing fervently from corner to corner, item to item, person to person, whilst her feet took her thoughtlessly in Howzer’s wake toward the treat laden display cases on the left. 

Like her companion, Hutchie’s was nothing short of …different. Utterly void of that sterile rigidity of which Coruscant remained notorious, three steps into that creaky, rustic cafe had June feeling as if she’d been unknowingly transported to a little bistro on a distant planet. High ceilings and limewashed walls worked in tandem to ensure that relatively cramped square footage was suffused with an indescribable, natural comfort. Taking up the majority of the cafe’s interior real estate was a sitting area along the right side; dozens of time-worn wooden chairs housing patrons of all shapes, colours, and sizes, an equi-diverse array of baked treats perched atop tables anchoring those esoteric conversations. 

“Ouuu, Alocasia Zebrina!” June suddenly uttered aloud, excitement surging through her veins as her eyes affixed themselves upon a very familiar-looking striped plant perched in the center of those scrubbed pine tops. 

“Say again?” Howzer asked, the din of chatter echoing around those four corners forcing him to lower his ear to only inches from her lips. 

“Um, Alocasia Zebrina,” she repeated somewhat meekly, the subtle addition of his aftershave in her nose quickly overpowering that fleeting glee. “The plant on all the tables. I have one at home too. They’re notoriously hard to keep alive.” 

Though not robbed of its clarity by the merciless cacophony still ringing around those walls, his chuckling response went wholly unheard, a sharp gasp escaping June’s lips as a searing pain erupted in her knee. 

“Ow!” she exclaimed, left hand absently reaching to steady herself with the nearest pillar of solidity, while the other darted downward to appease her now throbbing leg.

“Sorry,” a passerby grunted. “Busy place. Watch where you’re stepping.” 

“You okay?” 

Again, Howzer went ignored, June’s narrowed gaze affixed on the back of the retreating Zabraki man who had nearly knocked her off her feet as he pushed his way through the throng. 

“What happened?” Howzer tried again, this time successfully stealing her attention. 

“Nothing,” June dismissed, cheeks flushing upon the realization the support she’d mindlessly sought amidst that unexpected jostle was the crook of that Captain’s elbow. “Guy just knocked into me on his way by. I’m fine.” 

“Yeah, this place is always a madhouse,” Howzer answered, resuming normal posture and offering her an apologetic nod. “Stay close.” 

Whether the shift was intentional or not, June soon found the back of her hand near-clamped between Howzer’s torso and elbow, the gentle pinch he’d applied to seemingly keep her grasp exactly where it had landed instantly took her mind off the bruise forming earnestly just below her kneecap.

As they lumbered forward in that lagging queue, mahogany floorboards creaking with every step, June’s focus shifted from the drape of her cold fingers around that scuffed plastoid to the display cases passing on her left side— floor to ceiling shelves presented some of the most immaculately prepared pastries she’d ever laid her eyes on; glazed donuts gleaming like edible orbs neath those overhead lights, richly decadent brownies blanketed in a crust of finely chopped nuts, strudels happily leaking their jellied innards onto the emerald green doilies they laid upon whilst waiting to be ingested. On the other side of that scrumptious exhibit, and only visible through gaps between that prolific array of decadence, scurried a dozen green-aproned staff members. Multicoloured hands of all shapes and sizes appeared routinely behind those delicacies, a sheet of protective wax flimsi draped atop palms preparing to extract the confection that some lucky patron up ahead had just claimed as their own. And though her mouth watered uncontrollably at first sight of a delectable looking meiloorun muffin, June’s thoughts had wandered near urgently toward the egregiously overdue caf her very cells continued to demand with each passing, uncaffeinated moment. 

“Whatcha gettin’?” Howzer asked as they neared the front counter, her nose flooded with that intoxicating yet unfamiliar, delicate musk as he lowered his lips to a mere breath from her ear. 

“Ummmm,” June hesitated, brows furrowing as her eyes danced fervently around the exorbitant list of foreign-beaned caf’s scrawled upon a chalkboard on the wall opposite. “Whatever it was that you sent to my office last week?” 

“That was the Apple Java,” he advised her, pointing toward the center of the list. “Large?” 

“Extra-large…” 

The sudden exposure of that chronic caf addiction, and the way those dark brows raised at her seemingly mechanical, knee-jerk response, would have had her near-cringing neath the weight of self-consciousness had it not been for the smile quickly peeling across those dark lips, twinkly eyes softening as they danced warmly atop her features. 

“Extra-large it is,” he repeated with the subtlest of snorts. 

“I’ll buy though,” she hastily added, reaching to extract her wallet from the depths of her bag as he turned to greet the humanoid waiting behind the cash register. 

“What?” he demanded. “No way! I’m ordering for like sixteen people.”

“So?” 

“So! That’s going to cost you a fortune.” 

“You fed the entire surgical floor with all those treats last week,” June argued with a shrug, removing her hand from the security of his elbow to unzip her wallet. “I can repay the favour.” 

“That was differen—” 

“Trust me when I say: I’m more stubborn than you are, and you will not win this.” 

She watched his once-smiling lips purse ahead of unsaid protests, gaze  narrowing slightly as it bore into hers, seemingly resolute in witnessing the first twitch of muscle that might lay bare any hesitation on her part… but she met that surveying leer with a stern, unwavering one of her own, blue piercing brown as if daring him to object further. 

“Fine,” he consented atop the ghost of chuckle. “But put that hand back.” 

She repressed a smile as he turned and began to order (twelve regular caf, four decaf, and one extra-large Apple Java), every subsequent breath escaping past her lips struggling to ignore the flutter that had erupted in her gut as he'd assertively collected her cold fingers and directed them back to their previous wreath around his elbow.  

“Here’s the Apple Java, and the decaf,” the cashier announced hardly a minute later, passing a familiar looking flimsi cup across that mahogany counter to June’s outstretched palm, and a cardboard carrying tray of four others to Howzer. “We’re just brewing a fresh pot of regular caf. Give us a few minutes, and we’ll call you over when it’s ready.”

June followed in the Captain’s wake a half dozen paces toward one of the smaller tables anchored against the wall, the soul-warming aroma of apple and peekaboo vanilla wafting upward from the container in her hands near-banishing those irksome butterflies. With a small squeal of released anticipation and excitement she popped open the tab on that duraplas lid and took a sip of that scalding delight. 

Snickering at the undeniable joy atop her features, Howzer pulled the nearest chair out from its perch beneath that scrubbed pine tabletop and gestured for her to sit, before placing both that laden travel tray and his helmet atop the table between them and taking a seat of his own. 

“So you’re a full caffeine kinda guy,” June gleaned with a smirk, noting instantly that Howzer had failed to collect a cup from the collection on the table whilst she cradled hers with both hands.  

“Oh absolutely,” Howzer answered, casting the decaffeinated collection of cups in front of him a near-revolted look. “What’s the point of drinking a caf if it’s not to wake you up?”

“Warmth?” June suggested with a small shrug. “Flavour? Even with reduced caffeine levels, it’s a fantastic analeptic. Some like to keep their cortisol levels low. Not to mention it keeps the bowels moving…”  

June hurried to hide the flush rising earnestly to her cheeks behind that flimsi container as Howzer’s head tipped back amidst a full chested laugh that promised to dismantle her composure, nose scrunching neath his amusement and raising the little hairs on her arms. 

“I guess those are all pretty valid reasons,” he spoke, draping an arm casually atop the backrest of his seat and peering across the table at her with that characteristic twinkle behind his eyes. 

She shirked his gaze as discreetly as she could, pretending to pluck a nonexistent piece of fluff from the rim of her drink as she fought to restrain the newly invigorated flapabout in her gut. 

“Tell me about class,” he continued as she hurried to pacify the lingering capriciousness by bringing her caf to her lips again. “What happened that made your boss so happy?” 

June paused only long enough to force that still blistering liquid down her throat before offering him an evasive, one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know,” she mused, licking the remnants of the last gulp from her top lip and sitting up straight in her chair. “The guys in class have always seemed so …uninterested? It's been really hard to get them to engage with any of the content we’ve been trying to teach them, despite doing everything we can to make the lectures interesting.” 

“They’re just not paying attention?” Howzer probed. 

“Right… or paying attention to the wrong thing, or being disruptive. Some of them would just spend all three lecture hours sleeping… Some of them would stare at me like it was some stupid game and it drove me up the kriffing wall… Others at least tried to make it look like they were paying attention, but it’s not hard to spot someone that’s napping with their eyes open… 

“Today they were actually responsive… even borderline excited about what they were learning. I know, for a soldier, it’s probably not super exhilarating stuff that we’re teaching but… I don’t know. I think it’s all pretty cool once you understand the importance of the material? Maybe I’m just a giant dork, but…”  

 “Well…” Howzer started as her thoughts trailed away. “You said it, not me...” 

“Oh ha ha ha,” June feigned with a roll of her eyes, though a smirk peeled across her lips. 

The feeling of his amber-eyed, surveying gaze back atop her features forced her eyes back to the lid on her cup, bringing a cold finger to trail thoughtlessly around the rim of that white duraplas.

“I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to take it too personally,” Howzer continued after a moment’s pause. “That’s a bit of a weird age for troopers, to be honest. This is their first time off Kamino. They’re used to being barked at round the clock by ARC Troopers who wouldn’t recognize ‘consideration’ if it bit them on the ass. All these guys know is having their critical thinking tested every minute of every day, learning respect, and camaraderie, and strategy… all that kind of stuff. Now they’re sitting in a quiet classroom on a foreign planet, separated from everyone they grew up with, being taught combat medicine by civilians. It’s no excuse for, well… staring, but it’ll all be pretty foreign to those guys for a while.” 

Gnawing mindlessly on her left thumbnail, June let his words wash over her, a peculiar sensation lurching deep in her gut that felt something-near …guilt. 

“Hmm,” she hummed, pulling her finger from its clamp between her lips atop the cold realization that maybe… after all these weeks… she hadn’t been the only person uncomfortable in that classroom. “So it probably feels as awkward for them as it does for me?”

Howzer nodded, that infamously warm gaze thankfully lacking any semblance of judgment or critique as it landed back upon her. “Probably more so, considering almost all of them have probably never talked to a girl before. I know the ‘hot teacher’ comment bothered you but… they’re still learning.”   

“Who said it bothered me?” June retorted, though the indignance of her demand diminished instantly upon seeing the deeply skeptical look he cast from across the table. Pursing her lips to repress a culpable grin, she hid behind her coffee cup and asked, “I was that obvious, eh?”

“June, your face speaks louder than your words ever could,” he snickered. “Those eyes could light someone on fire if they glared hard enough.”  

June offered only a repressed snort, unable to offer him the titter he deserved whilst her insides churned amidst a simmering remorse that she hadn’t expected to feel for that century of once-disrespectful soldiers. “Kriff, now I feel like an asshole,” she mumbled. 

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Howzer replied with an appeasing smile. “They’re tough. And if they’re not yet, they will be soon. But—” Abruptly plagued by an unprecedented wash of what appeared to be diffidence, he paused to clear his throat and redirect his gaze to a blemish on the crown of his helmet. “—If you want them to stop staring, I’d maybe ditch the glasses.” 

“What?” June asked, upper lip cocking in confusion. “Why?” 

“Don’t get me wrong,” he started, eyes following his fingers as they began to absently drum atop that worn wooden table. “They’re nice. Um, really nice. Almost distracting… I guess?”  

The profound reddening of his ears nowhere matched that of her cheeks. Skin prickling as uncomfortably as if the beaming sun beyond that tinkling doorbell had managed to scorch both her shoulders and every inch of her face, she instantly lifted her hand again to subconsciously hide behind that emerald green cup. 

“Caf’s up!” 

That stentorian call thankfully spared June the need to respond, and they stood from those rickety wooden chairs as if the seats had suddenly burned white hot below their butts. As Howzer scooped his helmet from the table and tucked it neatly neath his arm, June collected the travel tray and followed him back toward the counter. 

The twelve regular cups of caf had been smartly divided into trays of four like their decaffeinated counterparts, but with one of June’s hands occupied by her own cup, and Howzer’s helmet plaguing the mobility of his right arm, it quickly became little more than a game of tetris attempting to figure out exactly how the only two remaining limbs were going to successfully cargo sixteen steaming cups of caf for the four-block journey back to Base. 

After several precarious and time-consuming attempts at stacking them on top of each other, and much to the mixed amused annoyance of the still bustling queue behind them, June heaved a sigh. “Can you just put that damn helmet on,” she bossed at Howzer atop an exasperated chuckle. “We need your second arm.” 

“No,” Howzer refuted instantly. “I won’t be able to see you properly. And I don’t like having it on if I don’t have to...” 

“You don’t need to see me, you just need to see where you’re walki—”

“But I want t—” 

“‘Kay fine,” she interjected, rolling her eyes and putting her cup of caf down on the counter. “If you balance them on my arm, I can take two trays in one hand and my cup in the other.” Though he cocked an eyebrow at her in a motion of unadulterated doubt, she dismissed his silent concern with an impatient shake of the head. “It’s okay, I used to be a server.” 

Atop the rapidly growing pressure of agitation behind them, June insisted. “I’ll be fine, just do it before someone tries to take out my other kneecap.”  

Looking as though he thoroughly disagreed with this seemingly impulsive plan, Howzer carefully lowered one tray on top of the other on June’s awaiting right wrist, hands lingering only inches from that teetering tower, poised to resume the weight should she let slip even a whimper of discomfort. 

Though it prickled against her sunburnt chest, letting those heavy trays tip backward against her skin diminished some of their burden, and she quickly offered him a nod of approval before collecting her own cup and stepping back from the counter. Once Howzer had balanced his own allotted pair of travel trays, they carefully made for the door. 

“You were going to send a cadet to do this?” June snorted as they traversed that sunlit path back to Base, heart seizing for the fourth time in as many minutes as her dribbling freight gave a perilous wobble in her arms and threatened to douse her lower half in scalding hot caf. 

“Absolutely,” he laughed. “It’s a great character building exercise.”

“Character building?!” she repeated, utterly aghast. “Pffffft! Seems kinda mean if you ask me, but if that’s what lets you sleep at night.” 

“Says the girl who slept in this morning,” he snarked back at her, turning to give her a smirk so dazzling, the discomfort of that hot and heavy cargo momentarily vanished.

“You know what,” June argued neath a chuckle, “I think I deserve a little credit for not sleeping in every kriffing morning. Not only do my shifts never end on time, but my bed is soft, and big, and warm, and a challenge to get out of on any given day…” 

“Sounds like a place I’d like to be,” Howzer chortled, turning to grant a fellow trooper in a suit of white and orange a casual nod as they passed each other along that path. 

Howzer clearly thought nothing of it, continuing toward their destination unaffected by that off-the-cuff remark, and wholly unaware of the way June’s shoulders had slumped near-theatrically in its wake. Yet, June’s stomach fell with speed thrice that of which they walked, disappointment wiping the lingering remnants of that diminishing amusement from her lips whilst the darkest corner of her mind eagerly raised a red flag and flapped it earnestly across her awareness. 

‘So that’s what he wants,’ she concluded, the hubris of her distaste for men instantly usurping the unfamiliar giddiness that had seen her near-intoxicated by his presence for days… weeks. ‘To visit to my bed.’ 

And the sudden and complete banishment of that teased sense of adventure— that fleeting feeling of ‘maybe I was wrong’ or ‘maybe there are men I can tolerate…’ — had that once gloriously enriching Apple Java cascading down the back of her tongue like spoiled vinegar. 

“Sorry—” she muttered after a contemptuous snort, dropping her gaze to her toes and watching that gum-embedded pathway lead them back to Base. “By formal invitation only.” 

An impossibly urgent sense of relief surged through her veins as the first signs of that construction-laden building came into view across the road, the gargantuan glass doors they’d left through some time earlier glimmering in the oppressive midday sun as they approached that barbed gate, stopping only so Howzer could scan his wrist comm below the sensor and permit them access. 

“June?” 

It was only then she realized he’d been talking. Too lost in her own welling disappointment and simmering sense of regret, she’d thoughtlessly tuned out everything around her. 

“Sorry, yeah?” she answered, squinting amidst the effort of finding that olive face. 

“You still okay there?” Howzer repeated, gesturing with a nod to the cargo she’d, once again, entirely forgotten she was carrying. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, knowing if she divulged the small river of scalding hot caf trickling from her wrist to her elbow, it would only further delay the end of this interaction. 

“Okay. Gimme one quick sec,” Howzer requested of her, stopping as the gate closed behind them and shifting his own freight enough to bring his forearm to his mouth. “Spades… come in.” 

“‘Sup, cap?” chirped a nearly identical voice through the static of that hidden communication system. 

“Status on barracks?” Howzer asked. 

“Barracks?” that voice repeated neath an incredulous laugh. “Uhhh… well, nine battalions have landed since last night so it’s safe to say ‘crowded’ is an appropriate word.”

“Duty or dismissed?” 

“Unless uniform policy has changed and we’re allowed to loaft around in our underwear on duty, I’m going to guess dismissed. Why? Aren’t you supposed to be in the briefing anyway?” 

“Meeting doesn’t start for a few minutes,” Howzer clarified, and I’ve, er… got some company. Thanks for the intel.” 

June watched him glance somewhat apologetically in her direction before ending that somewhat cryptic conversation, eyes hardening slightly, as if her labeling her as such was mildly offensive. 

‘Company?’ she scowled. ‘Barracks?’

“You trying to show off your bed, now?” June queried with a cocked brow, watching that sharp jaw tense whilst he chewed his lip, brown eyes narrowed in concentration as he silently deciphered some mental puzzle she wasn’t yet privy to  

“No,” Howzer chuckled, a lop-sided smile returning quickly to those lips. “Trust me, it’s nothing to bat an eye at. Come on, we’ll go through the hangar.”

PREV | NEXT | FOREWORD | MASTER | AO3

Taglist: @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator @arctrooper69 @somewhere-on-kamino @sverdgeir @heidnspeak

[fandom-friday]

Hello friend Karrde!

I hope that all here have been well and prosperous, or at least not buried in snow like me. I have more offerings again for the rec list! I apologize because this is gonna be a whopper of a list too, totally understand if it doesn't make it in this week.

On the Art side of things:

@pinkiemme has been rocking our world with both Commanders Wolffe and Mayday... such scrumptiousness. But then I saw this panel of Captain Rex and... (crying).

@rexxdjarin again with the thick and healthy series latest Echo and Gregor... the study of muscular anatomy is so on point!

@sunshinesdaydream has given us the adorable duo of Hardcase and Sparks

@spicyclones79s has gifted us Omega & Hunter, Commander Wolffe, and a very sweet Foxio

@ladykagewaki always has my heart with the Bebe batch snuggles But also Ms. Fangirl has shared how to summon Echo (May contain spoilers!)

@cloned-eyes made me smile with Wrecker and his little friends but then sob when I saw Jenot.

Comic Recs!:

@paperback-rascal is back with mercy and co with an interesting neurologic finding on Major 40

Fic Recs!:

@pickleprickle 's Newest fic features an injured Mace Windu in the wake of the Empire's rise in Shattered Sunrise. When I say I binged the first two chapters... go read!

if anyone is in need of a Howzer Fic after @the-rain-on-kamino has just reposted their Exigency series. I didn't get a chance to read it the first time and am making my way through it now and let me tell ya... the love, the longing, the CAPTAIN! oh and the build up to the SMUT!

Hopefully I'll have the other comic pieces gathered together for next week and a few more recs. Till then happy reading!

This is one HECK of a list that's got a little something for every TCW/TBB fan out there! I love all of the artwork, and the fics are phenomenal!!!

(Quick correction: the art of Hardcase and Sparks was a commission done by @cloned-eyes)

As always, THANK YOU for taking the time to pull all these together!!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[stars-n-spice]

For someone who is (supposedly) AroAce-

I sure do create a lot of significant others for clones. Whoops.

What if I said Rex gets a Mandalorian boyfriend? What then?

Or Howzer gets an intersex Twi'lek partner? How about Wolffe and a Jedi Archivist in a Queer Platonic Relationship? Uuuhhh Mayday gets a trans Pantoran Boyfriend and a happy ending now. And now Jesse gets a Zabrak/Theelin Cantina singer for a girlfriend. Gregor gets a Nautolan pirate partner that could bench press him and Fives gets a mercenary partner who could kill him. Fuck it! Kix gets someone who totally isn't the heir to a crime syndicate. And Keeli gets a totally not self-insert archeologist gf.

I have a lot of ideas and I need to draw them ugghhhhh

[clonemedickix]

As requested by @freesia-writes , a Howzer doodle. Couldn’t resist the Admiral Rampart dig

Also, check out her fanfic about Howzer on AO3!! It’s a great read!

[morerandombullshit]

WIP WEDNESDAY

this is something i did the other night, working on it until 1am, but it was stuck in my head and UGH I CAN SIDE PROFILE NOW TAKE THAT ARTBLOCK but

since y'all may not be able to read my ancient text ahh writing (even though it looks good then goes to shit 5 seconds later) + the quality isn't the best (it's taped to one of my windows), here's what the boxes say:

first box: Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, ner mesh'la cyar'ika. Ner sarad. Ner riduur. Ner runi. (translation: I love you, my beautiful darling. My flower. My partner. My soul—but keep in mind runi is used only in a poetic context, manda would be the correct word here but i thought runi would fit better considering the context in which he's seeing Lantis (my OC) as)

second box (continuation of first box): I always will. No matter what goes down.

third box with graphic of the Kaminoan facilities: I've been fighting a long time—since I was in my growth tube, I guess. I was bred for it.

fourth box (continuation of the third box): Spoke the language of a historically violent people [because we were all copies of one].

fifth box: Where there wasn't a word for peace, and even if there was, it was rarely used. Where I saw vode decommissioned, never to see any of them again. Where we were all treated like experiments—like were LESS. I hated it. (there IS a word in Mando'a for peace, it's called naak, i didn't know that at the time of making this but i learn new shit every day ig?)

sixth box: [I] Carried my blaster with a weight to defend people I didn't even know on my shoulders, because I was bred to be loyal too.

seventh box: But your eyes...

eighth box (continuation of seventh box): Your eyes. I was done when I saw your eyes, sarad (translation: flower). Even with the war, you made [me] feel peace. You made me feel like you were my home, despite everything I'd been through.

i think the premise was supposed to be the two getting married on Pabu because that DOES happen in the fic i'm writing (not released yet but keep an eye out) but yk, still cute

tags: @fiveminutetrash @lonewolflupe @eobe @here-comes-the-moose @badbatchposts @wiltedwilloww @xylionet @vodika-vibes @ghostymarni @badbatch-bitch @aknightreaderr (spread at your own leisure if y'all want to)

[ladykagewaki]

Love is in the Air at the Clone Hideout

@zaya-mo @chrissywakingup @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @aintinacage @ladykatakuri @indira-korr @marierg

[wild-karrde]

I can't remember what I've sent! ;)

Howzer fanfic continues -- almost 3/4 done! Gettin spicy but all PG-13; a canon-compliant (I hope) backstory about Howzer, how he got to be who he is, and a lil love interest on the side. ;)

Gregor x Reader: a series of dates - cute ideas by drafthorsemath that I've been fleshing out!

<3

We always welcome self-recs and repeat recs around here! Howzer deserves all of the spice and romance (especially after everything he's been through, bless him). Also, love getting some backstory for him!

And first dates with Gregor? Nothing but fun.

Love both of these very much! Thanks so much for sending them in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[oceansssblue]

Hey! Tomorrow's the last day to vote on the 100 celebration prompts!

I'll post the winning ideas on Saturday!

You can either vote in this link or send your vote in an inbox. You don't have to be a follower (and let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any of the sw prompts!)

Xx,

Blue.

[starqueensthings]

Summary: an immediate continuation of the last chapter. Challa and June discuss the result of the lesson before parting ways. June runs into someone familiar, and a couple new faces.

Rating/WC: all chapters are rated 16+ for subject matter unless stated otherwise | 4570 words.

WARNINGS: None. This is pretty light-hearted.

A/N: y’all!!! We’re finally getting into it!!! Yaaaaay! The story is rolling on!! This chapter is no one where up to my usual standards but it;s gone on too long and my job is only getting busier, so please accept it in one of it’s rawest forms. Also, keep your eyes peeled for some more of our Clone Wars faves in this chapter. Next one should be posted soon and jammed packed of tooth-rotting fluff.

PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED BELOW FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

PREV | NEXT | MASTER | FOREWORD | AO3

“Excellent, excellent, excellent…” Challa chorussed to those now-barren seats as his feet bounced that lithe figure back across the room toward the desk housing their personal belongings.

But mind still laden with the implications of Kix’s last sentiments, June spurned her boss’s ebullience as he passed, thumbnail inserting itself thoughtlessly between those front teeth while gazing blankly at the spot where that century of pack-laden backs had just vanished.

“I thought this class was everyone’s favourite…”

“It is now.”

She’d uttered that supposition jestingly at most— there simply wasn’t a shred of her cognizance daring enough to expect any degree of favourtism from those hundred soldiers, particularly when participation had been downright minimal since its inception several weeks ago… So, had Kix responded equally as jocosely? Or had today’s lesson truly fractured the uninterested facade that had seen Challa anxiously twisting his Lekku near-off his head for countless weeks?

“Just outstanding.” The unremitting commentary from somewhere over her shoulder broke the surface of that listless stupor, and she turned to find a near-frightening smile atop his thin lips as Challa carefully zipped his bag closed. “Really marvelous. And to begin with a monologue of such warranted yet unexpected intensity? Captivating. I simply could not be more thrilled…”

“It wasn’t a monologue, it was the truth,” June snickered under her breath as she approached the desk, stooping to collect her long-discarded purse from the floor.

“Label immaterial,” Challa beamed, seemingly refusing to entertain the veiled attempt at modesty. “A truly remarkable foray. I do not believe there was a single clone to which it did not resonate, and that is saying something. I am most pleased, June. Most pleased.”

“I believe you,” June assured him, eyes widening as that exorbitant laudation spilled mercilessly from his lips.

Words entirely unnecessary, the glee of which he continued to verbalize lay apparent in every line atop that slender face; eyes crinkled neath that relentless sense of pride, soft jaw accentuated by a grin that simply would not release its grip around those lips, and too-used to that stoic Twi’lek’s typically unemotive state, the shift in disposition had June near-disconcerted. Though the rejection of her attempted humility had a small smile tugging at her own lips, that palpable joy seeping neath her skin until continuing to ignore the triumph of their tactic seemed a more arduous task than simply accepting that they had finally found some semblance of success.

Oddly, now that the hurdle had been not only jumped but cleared, it felt like years had passed since Challa had demanded a solution from her, narrow shoulders slumped beneath such atypical cynicism in the center of that dusty gravel parking lot whilst he pled for any glimmer of a reason as to why he could not command the attention of those soldiers— and despite having wantonly offered this very scheme as a remedy, June had since dreaded its debut with every fiber of her being.

“Take the rest of the afternoon off!”

That sudden proclamation was nearly overpowered by the ringing echo of just how enthusiastically he’d clapped his hands together whilst uttering the request. “You performed wonderfully today despite suffering neath a potent affliction of nerves. You deserve some time to recuperate.”

A spitting laugh burst through her lips before she could corral it back into her lungs, the ludicrous nature of that unheralded gift quickly rejected in the name of utter realism and the sheer amount of work waiting for her back at the hospital.

“Can you stop with these random gifts of free time?” June chuckled to her boss. “You know it’s not feasible, Challa. I’ve had back to back surgeries booked since the Code on Primeday, and taking yesterday morning off didn’t help the matter.”

“I’ll reallocate them all,” he offered simply, dismissing her apparently flaccid argument with a wave of his hand. “And I’ll scrub in to those that can’t be. You’ve exceeded both my expectations and the call of duty today. Please, I insist.”

“You know you don’t have to keep rewarding me, Challa,” June told him, sinking onto one hip and holding his gaze. “I like being busy. I like workin–”

“I know you do,” he interposed. “And you can resume that unabating need for distraction tomorrow. For now, please accept the chance for some well deserved rest and relaxation.”

Her blue eyes narrowed upon those violet orbs, gaze scrutinizing every inch of those sand coloured features lest even a slight twitch of muscle betray that this offering of freedom promised to result in nothing more than an astronomical inconvenience to his already laden schedule. “Challa, are you sure?” she asked him quietly as his smile refused to falter.

“Absolutely certain. You deserve it.”

That insistent gratitude, alarming as it was in such concentrated doses, could only be considered an improvement from the morosity Challa had upheld in recent weeks, the grip he maintained on that iron-clad optimism simply dragging his spirits to the depths as it continued to prove utterly fruitless.

Unwilling to further question the fortuitous events that had awarded her an unheralded two half-days off, June thanked him and readjusted the strap on her shoulder. After all, she was several hours overdue for her first caf, and the abhorrent constriction of those shameful red scrubs acted as a near-constant reminder of the mountain of laundry awaiting attention at home.

“No no no no,” Challa protested as she reached to retrieve that borrowed MedKit from the floor behind the desk, gently smacking her hand off that handle for the second time in only minutes. “I’ll take this, you’ve done enough. Just run the attendance down for me and then get going. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You're very quickly approaching scary territory, boss,” June warned him atop a repressed chortle, reaching instead to collect that familiar folder from the desktop.

“I apologize for the alarm,” he offered, those slender cheeks finally gifted a moment's respite from the duress of that near-manic grin as it began to slip from his features. “I know you’ve previously acted a confidante of sorts for me when the yearn to return home became too powerful to bear, so please silence me if you currently lack the energy to listen to a middle aged man moan about his desires, but… this directive was so important to me. It is so imperative that I bring this task to successful completion. I need to feel as if I’m contributing more to this war effort than simply sewing already ravaged bodies back together. I long to take preventative action— I deeply wish to engage in a faction that deters further pain and suffering, not just repairs it.

“My cousin, Gobi, told me night-before-last that the invasion of Ryloth is imminent. My people are preparing for yet another insurrection, though this incursion is funded and enforced by more than just a smattering of greedy raiders. The separatist army is knocking on our door and… it pains me deeply that I can not aid in fortifying both my city and my people's resolve.

“But this? This class? Well it offers me some semblance of gratification. Many of these medics will graduate and accept deployment to planets like Ryloth, where defending citizens from unjust action and crucifixion is their highest priority. I want— no… need to assist them because their future actions will directly abet my people, and watching my every effort fail thus far has ravaged my conscience in a way I can not properly verbalize. Today—?” He paused only to offer her a disbelieving shake of the head. “—Today was groundbreaking. I now see a path forward for us. A path to success. Are you aware today was the first lecture in which a student actually posed a question?”

“Yeah, I guess?” June choked out as the lump forming in earnest behind her tongue largely constricted words now vying to escape her lips. “It was a stupid question but—”

“It matters not,” Challa interrupted firmly. “That student was looking to confirm the information that he retained was correct. Information he retained. That alone is paramount.”

Lips pursing into a smile that promised to convey more understanding and appreciation than her words ever could whilst strangled by the emotion still silently choking her, she offered her boss a gentle nod before turning toward the door, and that duo walked together back across the stage, over the threshold and into the bustling hallway opposite. Though shortly after emerging into the uncharacteristic bedlam beyond, they parted ways, and instead of falling into stride behind Challa down the hall on the left, those colourless walls offering a near-direct path to the gravel lot adjacent those gargantuan purple tarps, June veered right down the corridor housing the administration office.

Trodding quietly down those prosaic halls had never felt simpler… easier… less oppressive… The surging relief of having finally completed the task that had near-paralyzed her for days on end, accompanied by the insurmountable respect for her boss of which had been wholly reinvigorated by his unexpected and deeply heartfelt admission, acted a perfect talisman as she traversed past countless small groups of armour-clad soldiers. Apathetic to the smattering of helmets turning to follow her movements as she wove her way through that endless collection of white and painted plastoid, she tucked that folder neath her arm and powered forward as if the previously dismantling power of those unwanted, furtive glances utterly failed to penetrate the that sanguine shield. Even the gruff, “Hey good lookin’” that swam in the wake of a passing trooper could not crack that refortified optimism as she stepped past him, offering that salution nothing but a pursed-lip snort before disappearing round a corner and into the astonishingly bright sea of daylight pouring in through those gargantuan glass doors.

Squinting against that sudden illumination, she glanced only briefly around that dead end corridor, gaze darting across a trio of particularly grubby looking soldiers loitering directly across from her destination.

‘Maybe I’ll get my guitar off the wall,’ she thought to herself as she marched toward the cramped office on the left. ‘Maybe sit on the balcony in the sun and see if I can still remember how to play.’

Pushing that door open, she stepped into that cluttered space and pinned a smile to her lips. “Hi,” June offered to the protocol droid that had turned to address her entrance. Granting that regular, scruffy looking officer behind the desk only a nod, she dropped the attendance folder into its corresponding tray and quickly departed.

Though hardly a handful of steps passed underfoot after emerging back into the warmth of that radiant sunlit hallway before an unignorable “Ahem,” captured her attention from those wandering thoughts of iced caf and an afternoon of listless strumming.

The same breath that had her turning on the spot to thoughtlessly investigate that unexpectedly deliberate summons saw a double-take steal across her features, inquisitive gaze darting over her shoulder in the direction of that soft clear-of-the-throat before affixing itself upon the only person able to fully dissolve that otherwise impermeable resolve.

Howzer stood with his back to that colourless wall, flanked on either side by two troopers in armoured suits so ingrained with dust, it appeared as if neither had been granted respite from the elements in several rotations. Though those companions were offered none of the attention she’d instantly allocated to the handsome man in the middle, as the slow emergence of that familiar, lopsided smile had June utterly flummoxed and unable to wrench her eyes from the issuer of the discrete call.

As if that succeeding second had seen a pair of defib pods inexplicably burrow themselves into the wall of her chest and jolt her heart in action, a thunderous rhythm erupted against her rib cage, widened eyes devouring the familiar splash of teal they had so-desperately sought only days prior. And the longer she permitted her gaze to breathe in his sudden appearance, exactly how she hadn't initially noticed him as she trod past their position only moments previously was nothing short of mystifying, as that large teal-pauldron erected over his right shoulder seemed to issue the same degree of accomplishment she’d worn atop her own shoulders whilst striding through those bustling halls.

Her throat bobbed as she held that unwavering gaze, watching those dark brows soften and flick toward his hairline only long enough to perfectly communicate his desire that she linger for a moment while he fought to shirk the conversation still demanding his immediate attention, and only after she’d offered him a nod of acknowledgement did those bewitching eyes finally free her from their hold.

Desperately attempting to calm the rigorous hammering inside her chest, she rotated slowly on the spot, attention shifting thoughtlessly across the display case hanging on the wall immediately next to her elbow, though any hopes of focussing on the myriad of celebratory articles pinned to the cork inside was instantly surrendered as the distorted image of her reflection had her hands instantly reaching upward.

“Maker,” she gasped under her breath, the sight of her current dishevelment acting an instant reminder of the repercussions of that chaotic morning and the detriment it had upon her appearance; the reality that she’d forgone brushing her hair in favour of her teeth, immediately thrust upon her by the exposure of the frowzy locks sticking up in all directions. Amid a hurried effort to diminish that unkempitude, she reached upward to run her fingers through the ends of her long ebony hair, though the attempted subtlety atop those movements near-instantly failed, as the action had only-managed to dislodge several clumps of keratin from her scalp, strands wrapping and knotting themselves tightly around her knuckles. Flicking it from her hands and onto the floor, she instead decided to funnel the burgeoning nerves into gnawing on what was left of her already shredded thumbnail, risking only a glance toward that triad of troopers as she attempted to feign any semblance of natural levity.

Howzer, of course, she recognized— both the teal stripe extending from the collar of his cuirass to the armoured belt round his waist, and that mouthwatering undercut, were instantly recognizable. But the two war-stained men adjacent were definitively unfamiliar to June as both were strikingly unique and memorable in their own right.

The soldier on the left wore a kit of white and maroon— a combination of which June had yet to stumble across amidst her work endeavors. Though the structure of his plastoid suit and how it hugged his form mirrored Howzer’s almost perfectly, the manner of which he’d individualized that regulation suit was downright remarkable. The helmet tucked neath his arm had been painted with a set of, what could only be described as, horns. Exactly what they were representative of, June couldn’t venture a guess, but the detail in which he’d adorned that bucket remained nearly-astonishing. Like the proud pauldron extending from his shoulder, various other sections of his armour had been painted maroon to compliment; the encasement around his thighs, both breasts on his cuirass, his boots and every inch of the protection reaching downward from his knees, the fabric piping encircling the odd, dark panels hanging from his hips, all identically coloured to ensure his loyalty to the regiment of which he lead could never be questioned.

Though, remarkable as that custom kit was to behold adjacent those dark, bland walls, it was atypical pattern embossed into his hair that had June most intrigued. Tightly cropped to his skull, and meticulously carved with an ornate tribal pattern of which looked even more unfamiliar than the horns embossed on his bucket, she’d yet to see such effort funnelled into a soldiers appearance, and to match the obvious aversion to a soldier’s standard regulation appearance, this man had forgone the mandatory clean shave. Instead, opting for a brush of stubble across his cheeks and around his lips that June was sure would have had him reprimanded in seconds should his Commanding Officer suddenly appear.

The second, unidentified gentleman was arguably the most austere of the trio, though the adhesion of that label was shoddy at best when compared his appearance to that of the hundred structured regulation cuts June had grown accustomed to interacting with twice a week. For one, he was …blond; biologically or not was impossible to discern as he’d maintained a shorter crop than either of the companions beside him, and it was thanks to the lack of pigment imbued in those locks that a faint, brown birthmark was only barely visible atop the back of his head. He too wore a pauldron atop his shoulder, though unlike his maroon clad brother, it’s deep cobalt was a hue of which June had seen countless times since the inception of the war; whatever sector of soldiers to which this man was assigned, it was both exceedingly large and had developed a proclivity for attaining injuries that had them frequently hospital-bound.

Yet, despite their inspiring individuality, both of those mysterious troopers lacked whatever quality it was that had her heart somersaulting unceremoniously into her gut upon first sight of that teal-painted captain. There was, infuriatingly, something about Howzer that had June’s long-fortified and cherished resolve melting to little more than a puddle at the mere mention of his name, and she couldn’t help but wonder as she stood there and watched his gaze dart repeatedly back toward her position, why this emotional anomaly had grown to excite her; precisely when had the tingle neath her skin, left in the wake of his shifting gaze, become something to be embraced and not reviled?

She bit the inside of her cheek to repress a smile as she watched his lips part and close for the fifth time in as many seconds, the hand he’d placed upon the shoulder of the blond man beside him in a motion intended to interrupt this so-imperative discussion went wholly ignored as that blue painted soldier continued to chunter as if Howzer’s attention had not long-departed that exchange.

“Moves like that are going to be up to Cody,” the maroon soldier protested with a grave shake of the head. “And by extension– his General, who has to get clearance for incursions like that from their fancy council. We have no way of knowing which way they’ll lean. General Di would ra—”

“I’ve worked with General Kenobi,” the blue soldier chimed in. “He aims for a peaceful, collaborative approach wherever he can, so… chances are he shuts down the idea of a direct assault. The risk of civilian casualty is too high. He’d sooner funnel efforts into evacuation, then hold the lines in preparation for an airstrike.”

“Don’t know if they’d even approve an airstrike, Rex. I could be wrong, but I think that land is sacred to the native population. Something about long-departed spirits that still govern the lord of the leaves, or something like that. Can’t remember now.”

“Well they’ll have to look at alternatives to a direct ground assault, or there's going to be a kriff-ton more spirits—”

“It’s all still rumours anyways,” Howzer interjected, redirecting that wandering gaze back to his comrades. “There’s no point scheming until we have all the information. We’ll get our orders down the chain, and we’ll see ‘em done as effectively as we can.”

“Spoken like someone that doesn’t have to answer to a Jedi…” the maroon trooper snorted.

“I’m just saying…” Howzer shrugged, “There’s no point worrying until there’s something to worry about. Sheath and the 41st are always thorough with their recon. They’ll have the intel Kenobi needs to take to the Jedi. You two should take a break from battle when you can get it— you’re both on leave for a few days. Act like it.”

“Yeah, well…” Rex sighed. “‘Leave’ with Skywalker means being ready for his antics at any moment. Oh, and that reminds me—”

June quickly pursed her lips, a chuckle threatening to spill past her thumb still clamped in place as the maroon soldier instantly moved to commiserate with his cobalt brethren, Howzer’s eyes rolling theatrically atop his desperation to abscond that seemingly endless tactical natter.

Feeling her cheeks begin to heat in earnest as his gaze returned to her, eyes flashing apologetically while he gently shook his head, June removed the thumbnail from her teeth and reached into the depths of her bag, hoping the needless motion of rifling around its depths for the jingle of her speeder keys could distract her enough to regain her composure.

“Nothing’s being decided today anyway. It’s too early— Cody knows better than to bring it up in a briefing without all the intel in his pocket.”

The sudden assertion neath his tone captured her attention instantly, glancing upward to watch Howzer give each of his companions an undeniably final handshake and casual clap on the elbow, the pair offering each other disgruntled looks before conceding that unspoken demand and turning on their heels.

“Aren’t you coming?” the blond asked Howzer, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction June had come from some minutes earlier. “You’re going to want to get some grub before the meeting starts. We’ll be in there all afternoon.”

“I’ll find you in a bit,” Howzer answered with the dismissive shrug of a shoulder. “Gonna find a cadet to grab us some caf from down the street first.”

“You and your kriffing fancy caf,” the trooper in Maroon grumbled atop the roll of his dark eyes. “I wonder what the Republic’s tax-payers would think of you spending all their money on premium, Devaronian, slow-roasted beans when there’s free caf in the Mess.”

“Maybe some of us want to feel alive while we’re still living,” Howzer defended. “That sludge does anything but. Now go away, you big grump.”

There was no corralling the snicker that burst past her lips as she watched Howzer gift that goading trooper an assertive shove in the opposite direction before planting his hands on his hips and scowling. Though, the manner in which his expression wholly softened whilst turning back to June’s waiting figure near froze the air in her lungs, those endearing creases round his eyes emerging as he neared, smile tugging toward his right ear.

“Hi,” she greeted somewhat breathlessly as approached, finally coming to a halt in front of her and shifting his helmet neath his arm.

“Hi,” he chimed back atop that dismantling smirk. “Sorry to make you wait— that took a lot longer than I wanted.”

“No worries,” June shrugged. “Seemed kinda serious.”

��They’re both too serious for their own good,” Howzer answered, absentmindedly glancing down the hall toward the space his companions had vanished before clearing his throat quietly and meeting her gaze again. “I'm, uh… ashamed to say I almost didn’t recognize you. The glasses are …new.”

“Wha–? Oh!” Having entirely forgotten she was wearing those forsaken dark rims, her cheeks flooded in earnest. If only that frenetic morning had allotted her five extra minutes to poke her contact lenses into her eyes, she wouldn’t be standing here like a four-eyed deer in the headlights with knotted hair and flushed skin. “Ugh, yeah,” she grumbled. “I slept in this morning and didn’t have time to get all dolled up.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Howzer answered with a charming shrug, that veiled compliment tugging at the spot just behind her navel as if the floor neath their feet had suddenly plummeted the pair of them some stories below.

‘Cool it,’ she begged to herself, desperate to maintain her equanimity whilst Howzer’s presence threatened to usurp every ounce of it, even the most subtle shifts of those amber eyes amidst that pleasant conversation easily siphoning more and more of her resolve.

“I missed you on Primeday,” he continued before she’d summoned the gumption to form a response. “I must have been checking for you in all the wrong hallways.”

“Oh kriff!” June exclaimed loudly, clapping a palm to her suddenly gaping lips. “I am so sorry— that’s completely my fault. The hospital called a Code Orange and I had to race back to work before class ended. I didn’t even think to try and find you…Hopefully you didn’t waste too much time?”

“Meh, couple hours…” he answered with another slight shift of the shoulder.

“Couple hours?!” she gasped again from behind those cold fingers.

“Yup. Have blisters on my heels now and everything.”

“Howzer! Are you nut–”

“I’m just kidding,” he laughed, that soft crinkle erupting round his eyes as they framed his amusement. “To be honest, I wasn’t even sure where to find you so I just stuck my head through a few doors until it started to feel creepy.”

“That would be my fault too,” June admitted atop the beginnings of a regretful sigh. “I don’t think I ever told you where the classroom is. Though, honestly, with how directionally challenged I am, my instructions probably would have had you wandering even longer.”

“Somewhere by the purple tarps,” he answered, entirely reminiscent of the last time she’d attempted to help him navigate their way back through that staggering maze of corridors and doorways. “Speaking of, are you dashing back to work now?”

“No, actually,” June answered, having momentarily forgotten Challa’s generous request that she forgo responsibility for the remainder of the day. “I was supposed to be, but my boss was so happy with the lesson today, he just randomly gave me the afternoon off.”

“Ouu,” Howzer cooed, brows lifting slightly as if she’d uttered something particularly impressive. “Maybe you can tell me all about it. I was going to send a cadet to grab caf for the CO’s debrief, but… I don’t know… maybe you and I can go instead? If you wanted?”

Grab caf? With— with Howzer? Together? Alone? Right now?

Her lips parted amidst that split second of hesitation, heart vying desperately to silence that innate caution in her mind long enough to utter a simple agreement. ‘Yes,’ she thought. ‘I’d love to. Just say yes. You like caf. You like him. It’s just caf… you’ll be fine.’

She watched his throat bob neath a deliberate swallow, jaw tensing whilst he awaited her response, amber eyes darting to and fro between her own, ears reddening with each elongated, silent second.

“Um, sure,” she somehow spluttered. “I’m— I’m overdue for caf anyways, and if the delivery you sent over is any indication, you know where to get the good stuff.”

“You’ve never had Hutchie’s?” he near-gasped, incredulity quickly replacing the apprehension that had briefly distorted his handsome features.

“No, never!” June answered. “And it was probably the best caf I’ve ever had. It took everything in me not to just bottoms-up the entire thing directly into my mouth.”

“No better way to drink caf if you ask me,” Howzer snorted, gesturing with a quick nod of the head toward the gargantuan glass doors only yards away. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“The entire Surgical floor enjoyed it— you sent enough to feed the entire hospital. I appreciate it very much, but I hope you didn’t go to any trouble?”

“Wasn’t trouble at all,” he answered immediately. “And I wouldn’t care if it was. Just wanted to make you smile and figured snacks outta do the trick.”

“You figured perfectly,” she grinned as he pushed open the door and stood aside to let her pass ahead of him.

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