#captain Gregor

[griffedeloup]

I just read that again, and this deserves another reblog 💚👌

See You Again

AO3 Link

Rating: Safe, will be mature/explicit in later chapters. Please respect that this is an 18+ only blog.

Warnings: none

Notes: fem reader, second person pov, present tense, reader owns a bar and used to sing publicly

Word Count: 1061

(Not to be confused with kaminocasey’s story of the same name)

I’ve had a vague idea from this song for literally years but only recently had a specific enough idea to start working on it.

Recommended listening: See You Again- Elle King

F! Reader/ Gregor

You find someone lost, but may wind up losing him.

You push the back door of the bar open with your hip, since your hands are full with the evening trash bags. The chilly air of the desert at night feels heavenly on your sweaty brow. You lug the bags behind you for a few meters, then haphazardly toss each one into the waste unit at the end of the alleyway. You find deep satisfaction in the sound of breaking bottles, and pause to stretch your back for a moment. When you turn around to go back inside, you see a trail of garbage leading from the back door to the waste unit; one of the bags must have had a hole in it.

You think about just leaving it there to deal with when you return to open back up, then remember how snippy the landlord got last time you didn’t clean it up right away. You groan in aggravation, resigned to yet another chore you shouldn’t even be doing, but Mayr called out today, so you have to pick up the slack. Which you expect to do every now and then, it’s part of owning a business, but tonight was rough. Another fight broke out and you’d been hit on multiple times by a persistent creep, so you’re especially tired, which is why you’re irritated by the extra work.

You run back into the building and fetch a broom and dustpan to clean up the concrete path with, though it really won’t make much difference, the place is such a dump anyway. You start sweeping, and your mind wanders. Without being fully conscious of it, you sing a slow, soft song as you work.

“So won’t you stay, ‘til the morning, I’ve been frozen since that night you sang with me…”

The sound of approaching footsteps jerks you out of your tired haze and you immediately go silent, listening carefully for any other noises.

“Who’s there?” you say, assertive. A few seconds pass, but you get no reply. “I can hear you walking,” you continue, holding tightly to the broom handle and glancing around.

The footsteps approach again, coming from a gap between buildings a few doors down. You turn toward the sound, on edge. Whoever it is walks under one of the weak lights, and seems familiar. You watch them approach and keep your guard up, just in case they try something stupid.

“Sorry miss, I didn’t mean to spook you,” they say in a low, gravelly voice, coming to a stop a few yards away from you.

Now that you’ve heard them and can see better, you recognize one of your regulars. You don’t know his name but there’s no mistaking his tanned skin, wide nose, and dark eyes. He comes in nearly every night, probably after leaving work, gets a single Kork and sits quietly at the end of the bar, alone, occasionally telling off someone who won’t leave you alone, which you appreciate. He has an odd air about him of someone who is lost but hasn’t realized it yet, and a part of you feels for him. All of your interactions have been friendly enough so far, so you don’t have much reason to be suspicious, though you know better than to relax completely. Not that it matters, but he isn’t hard on the eyes either.

“Sure you didn’t. It’s totally normal to creep up on someone alone in the dark late at night like this,” you say sarcastically.

He cringes. “Yeah, I didn’t really think about that,” he says.

You continue sweeping, glancing up at him every few seconds to keep track of where he is. “Well? Why are you here? I saw you leave hours ago, and you should know when I close the bar by now,” you say. You’ve lightened your tone, but not by much.

“Oh, I do know, I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up this late,” he says, taking a cautious step closer.

“I’m almost always up this late, the work doesn’t end when I lock the front doors,” you say.

“Really? I’ve never seen you back here before,” he says, his interest piqued.

“Mayr called out today, so I’m having to do their job on top of my own, I’m not usually the one outside,” you say. You grab the dustpan and sweep everything into it before dumping it out on top of the trash bags.

“So,” you say, dusting your hands off, “do you usually skulk around here this late at night?”

He shakes his head. “I only walk around like this when I can’t sleep,” he says.

You gather up the broom and dustpan, and move to head back inside, but pause at the door, waiting to hear anything else he has to say. He shifts awkwardly on his feet for a moment.

“I, um, heard you singing,” he says.

You chuckle. “Had to find the dying tooka, huh?” you say.

He frowns at you. “That's not what it sounded like to me at all. You’re better than you give yourself credit for,” he says, almost stern with you.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, but you otherwise don’t know how to respond.

He keeps talking; “I know you have live music here every now and then, why haven’t you ever gone up?” he asks.

You chuckle, then sigh sadly. “I used to, back on Coruscant. But that was a long time ago, and there’s nobody here who would want to hear me,” you say, not meeting his eyes.

“I would,” he says, surprising you. You glance up at him and the expression on his face makes you think he didn’t mean to say that out loud. The seconds stretch out for far too long before he clears his throat. “Well, uh, you’ve got work to do, I won’t hold you up any longer, sorry,” he says, then turns back toward the main street.

He’s a few paces away when you call out to him. “Wait, what’s your name?” you ask.

He turns enough to look over his shoulder at you. “Gregor,” he says, a soft smile on his face. You feel something faintly stir in your chest, but ignore it and tell him your name. He repeats it back to you and nods.

“Goodnight, miss,” he says, and the next thing you know, he’s turned the corner and disappeared.

Taglist:

@kaminocasey @madameminor @jennamelinda12 @arctrooper69

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[cloud-bees]

My episode pitches for Tales of the Clones:

(Mr. Filoni pls feel free to steal all of these I require no credit only more clone footage pls my good sir)

- how Cody got his scar

- Wolffe losing his eye

- What happened to Cody after he went AWOL

- Kix’s story from looking into the chips to waking up 50 years later

- why Emerie was created and how she got to be working for Hemlock

- Jango meeting some of the first clones

- how Gregor, Rex, and Wolffe ended up going into retirement together

- what Cody has been doing since he left the Empire

- how Cody and Rex met

- more of the 104th and Plo Koon

- how tf Gregor survived that explosion

- The Bad Batch as cadets

- Cody’s whereabouts after he defected

- Cut meeting Suu

- Bad Batch raising Omega on Pabu when she’s a teenager

- a look into what Cody has been up to since we last saw him

- Echo finding out about Fives

- where is Cody

- Captain Howzer during the Clone Wars

- C O D Y.

[chiliger]

Didn’t know that holo-pic was still there.

Here is the very, very late anniversary comic! I’ve had this idea since almost the very beginning of the series. Just something to chew on.

Bonus: Meme redraw to hopefully lighten up reader’s spirits! :D

[morethansky]

STAR WARS: THE BAD BATCH // Choices "As your brother, I'm asking you to do the right thing."

[ajdhbear]

Joining Star Wars Tumblr with a banger 🫶

Hi! I am Mayo, a history student who watched her first proper Star Wars in October last year. I’m an artist who is mostly active on Twitter, but my friends have recommended spreading to Tumblr aswel. (I have no idea how this app works…)

My interests are Dathomir (specifically the Nightbrothers (specifically Maul and Feral)), Clones, droids, Ithorians and men who eat cereal. Next to canon characters, I also like to draw my own OCs. I will definitely show them on here from time to time. As a side quest I am also creating my own Dathomirian clan. 💛

My most iconic art are probably these silly looking clones. They are still a work in progress. (For my twitter followers: I have tanned their skin a bit more. I forgot I had my blue light filter on and got jumpscared earlier).

[fangirlforeversthings]

(And no obi wan this time see?)

[phantasm-echo]

And they (will be) roommates :0

[sashketter]

The fun thing about the clones is that because they don’t have last names, whenever you write their name before another character who does have a last name, they read like a couple. Like ofc Cody is Obi Wan’s husband, it clearly says “Cody and Obi Wan Kenobi.” Or “Bly and Aayla Secura,” they’ve been together for ages! The clones are syntactically husband-shaped!

[mother-of-lothcats]

knew i was born in the right generation when i discovered my tremendous love for every single clone in the grand army of the republic

[cobaltbeam]

Sleepy Gregor for Patreon I did a while ago /Loosely inspired from this post by Maisie (aka n1 Gregor lover <3)

[zealfruity]

WHEN THE OLD MEN

Rex’s mug has “#1 Dad Grandpa Brother” written on it. The shirt joke makes no sense if you think about it any further in the context if star wars but shhhhhh i had to make the joke it was in my brain

[ventresses]

Star Wars: Rebels (2/?) - Rex, Gregor, and Wolffe

Star Wars + Text Posts & Headlines

[omaano]

I didn’t tear up at seeing these three in one scene, not at all 🥹

[swcowgal]

This has been living in my head rent free for days😵‍💫

Please meet the Bruins new back up goalie, Captain Gregor, and he’s a huge Gerry Cheevers fan🤭

[trashy1turtle]

Me when Clones:

[lychgate]

GROUND CONTROL TO MAJOR TOM