#clone commander beans

[autumnalfallingleaves]

@codywanweek Day Four: One of Cody's antennae is linked to a tracker in Obi's lightsaber

I am all for "Obi-Wan's lightsaber really likes Cody and that's why he finds it every time it gets lost", but this is a very funny prompt as it stands and I just had to get silly with it :)

reblogs are highly appreciated, and please do not repost my art

[skyguyslittleproblem]

decided to post this on here as well

[sleepingsun501]

I drew this months ago, and I’m so happy I can finally post it. Just sleepy, post-war, happy AU Fox finally getting the rest he deserves. Oh, and he got a tooka cat, Bean lol. Happy Fox Day everybody!!

[clone-trooper-cheese]

From top to bottom:

Fours (left) and Polar(right

Brick (and Aisacc on his arm, but he's not a clone lol)

Brick (again. The top one) and Havek (the bottom one)

Captain Nitro

Captain Nitro(left) and Commander Beans (right)

Mickey

Mickey (but he got too silly)

Fours!

Fours and Omega

And last but not least, the force boy himself; Omen!

you, star wars artist, show me your clones

both canon and oc 👍

[mwolf0epsilon]

How is it the clone beans eat?

With their little mouths of course! (which are not visible in the sculpts because I didn't want to overly deform the faces, I intend to one day 3D print them after all)

Granted the Trooper Beans being a manifestation of the clones's personality and emotions don't really NEED to eat... But it's a very enjoyable activity that they take pleasure in partaking in! Especially if they have access to their particular trooper's favourite snacks.

There is the occasional mishap, however...

Not every good little Trooper Bean resorts to nibbling like a polite little hamster. Some like Dogma Bean, for example, serve as emotional outlets for their troopers... So they tend to have very little self-control and over-indulge in things they enjoy doing with no real regard for the consequences of, say, swallowing an entire cheese bun?

Thankfully Trooper Beans that are tied to medics have enough sense to take the welfare of their fellow Beans just as seriously as the medical officers they manifested from.

Swallowing stuff whole isn't the only questionable method of eating, however. There are some Beans that prefer a more unconventional approach...

If I were any of you, I wouldn't dare stick my fingers anywhere close Cody Bean. He's especially fond of the Goblin Shark method...

[s3ap0tat0]

I got bored- So naturally I decided to draw fox, But an actual fox

\(•_•)

) )Z

/ |

[enigmatist17]

To the rude anon who sent me an ask, why yes!

I do love Fox ❤️

Yes, I am very aware he killed Fives, and I extremely doubt he would have willingly. I personally think he was most likely violated via Sith stuff from Palps before he and his men were sent on the hunt, and that he carried incredible guilt until the day he was murdered. That doesn't mean he deserves condemnation, and if you don't much care for my writing about him, then just don't read it? The Corrie Guard are fascinating and tragic for what they ended up doing, and I love all my of clone children regardless of where they serve 💜

I love my Corrie Commander, and you're just lucky I can't draw, as I'd flood my tumblr with him ❤️

[a-single-tulip]

Star Wars OC List

Hey y'all! I know it's been a while since I've posted anything myself on here, but most writing I've been doing these days has mostly just been OC stuff in a server with my buddies, so I've decided to share my OCs with you guys <3

This includes both a mix of regular OCs (all of whom are from tcw era), as well as clone OCs!

I'll keep most of these descriptions pretty brief/to the point, so if any of y'all have any questions about any of these guys, feel free to hop into my inbox and ask away!

Dr. Waylon Vrand

Some of you might actually been familiar with Waylon, who was in the first fic I ever posted here! I actually posted a small origin story of sorts for him a bit ago, but to make a long story short:

Dr. Waylon Vrand, aged 22, is originally from a small village on the planet Dosuun (out in Wild Space, for those who didn't know), coming from a line of small-time family doctors, but moved out to Coruscant at the age of eighteen after receiving a scholarship for a medical academy there. If Mon Mothma can be a senator at 16, Waylon can be a doctor at a young age upon proving himself capable, do not perceive me

Feeling much like a fish out of water in a setting dominated by those with much higher prestige than him, Waylon found himself not exactly being all too up to socialize with his peers. Instead, he found friendship in an unexpected group, that being the clone troopers assigned to work with the medical academy.

Upon growing closer to graduating after enrolling in accelerated courses, he found himself studying and applying to work directly with the GAR as a medic specifically for clones, wanting to provide medical assistance for them on the front lines.

Following being officially instated as a medic for the GAR, he floated around wherever his assistance was required right up until he found himself assigned to Clone Force 99 for the remainder of the war.

Dr. Cais Varru

Dr. Cais Varru, aged 30, is a Zabrak originally from an Iridonian colony planet who works on Coruscant as a Psychiatrist, primarily doing work in Familial Affairs, and following the start of the war, he started doing VA work as well.

He moved to Coruscant at 24 following an experience that made him strongly desire a change of scenery, taking up a job far from home where he wouldn't be reminded of said incident.

Despite that though, he has a very calm temperament and remains in contact with his family consistently, and is very dedicated to the work he does in helping families displaced by the war, along with many troopers who find themselves desiring guidance.

Delilah "Dee" Murphy

Delilah "Dee" Murphy, aged 24, is a respectable journalist for the Coruscant Chronicle by day...graffiti artist by night.

Originally from the lower levels, after being left on her own at age 14, she found herself needing to support herself from a very early age. Now as an adult, she's made a relatively comfortable life for herself and prides herself on her career as bringing the truth to light in the work that she does.

That, however, doesn't make her immune to having her vices...with her primary one being her hobby in tagging buildings.

Though her identity when tagging remains anonymous, that doesn't mean that the Coruscant guard doesn't actively try to pursue her for her misdeeds.

Her primary tag is this guy below:

Wrench Ward

Wrench Ward, aged 28, is a mechanic in the lower levels of Coruscant working alongside her father in their family workshop, "Ward Family Repairs".

Following an incident that unfortunately claimed the life of her mother, she also lost part of her left arm up to the elbow at 8 years old. Following that, she was raised by her father and became well-acquainted with her way around fixing and repairing things.

Despite growing up on Coruscant, her father is actually originally from Dosuun, meaning she's also picked up his accent as well.

Wrench is just a nickname, but she'd rather die than tell anyone her real name that isn't someone close to her.

Sam Ward

okay...don't make fun of me, but this is his face claim:

Yup, that's right...Sam Elliott. Don't judge me, I named him before I decided on a face claim for him, and Sam Elliott being in Star Wars is just an inside joke between me and my friends now.

ANYWAYS

Sam Ward, aged 65, is the proprietor of Ward Family Repairs and the father of Wrench Ward. Originally from the planet Dosuun, he came to Coruscant as a young man to make a life for himself, which is where he eventually met his wife and later on had his daughter.

Following the loss of his wife and having to adapt to raising him daughter on his own, he dedicated himself to performing to the best of his abilities in providing for Wrench, and teaching her the skills she would need in working alongside him.

And now for Clone OCs

the next five clones listed below are actually all batchmates!

Commander Monroe

CT-1109, Commander Monroe, is a clone commander for the 428th High Corps (courtesy of @wizardofrozz <3), where they serve as troopers who escort doctors to refugee sites to provide medical assistance to injured civilians. Funnily enough, they work quite closely with the medical academies on Coruscant when they aren't off-world, so that in turn is how Monroe finds himself acquainted with Waylon of all people. The two of them became great friends following their first meeting.

During his time on Kamino, Monroe was solely dedicated not just to finishing the new training he'd been given upon proving himself to be further advanced than other cadets, but also making sure that his other batchmates made it off of Kamino at all. His brothers all had their own quirks and differences as cadets that were not entirely favorable to the Kaminoans, which made the prospect of being decommissioned a very real issue that they had to fight against. Monroe, as the eldest of his batch, made sure that nothing happened to them so that they could make it out and be able to serve the Republic.

Various things occur following Order 66 that unfortunately lead to him being one of the many clones on Mt. Tantiss...which then leads to him enduring various forms of experimentation that I'll elaborate on if anyone is interested at all in learning more about it.

Cupid

CT-1402, known as Cupid, serves as a trooper assigned to the Coruscant Guard. He earned his name due to his tendency to fall quite easily, along with his innate desire to set up people with one another in his free time. He's a very loving guy, and quite the social butterfly.

As a cadet, he was nearly decommissioned due to having a pacifistic nature when he was younger.

Jinx

CT-1713, known as Jinx, is a clone assigned to the 501st who specializes in working with demolitions. Ever the wildcard, he has quite a brash personality and earned his name due to how often he seems to get himself into some sort of trouble, typically learning to injuries that often lead to Kix lecturing him about being more careful. He happily leans into the whole "bad luck" thing, often teasing his fellow troopers by threatening to spread his bad luck onto them.

During a campaign at some point, he found an orphaned black tooka kitten that he secretly took in, much to his brother Snitch's chagrin who he begged and pleaded with not to tell on him (one of the FEW exceptions Snitch has ever made). Jinx appropriately named the tooka Eris, and that's where the paw prints on his armor came from.

He was nearly decommissioned as a cadet due to his reckless behavior and not being a team player.

Snitch

CT-2130, known as Snitch, was also assigned to the 501st much like his older brother Jinx but that's where their similarities end. Unlike his brother, he is a real stickler for the rules, having read the reg manuals cover to cover and is the sort to happily point out when someone is breaking the rules, and will even report on it. This doesn't exactly make him all too well-liked, but in his heart, in his own funny little way constantly worrying about the rules is his own way of showing he cares, something he has a hard time doing in a typical fashion.

As a cadet, he was part of a program that studied clone cadets showing signs of neurodivergency and would have been decommissioned if he had faltered in performance quality.

Beans

CT-4900, known as Beans, is the youngest of his batch and was assigned to the Coruscant Guard along with his older brother Cupid. Originally earning his name due to his high-energy personality making him much like a jumping bean, his name only grew to become even more appropriate once he developed a strong affinity for caf. Ever the excitable type, he's a chatterbox and will talk your ear off if you let him, with half of whatever he might be talking about being unintelligible due to how fast he talks if he's had too much caf.

As a cadet, he was nearly decommissioned due to him not meeting typical growth milestones and requirements on time, which earned him the nickname "Teenie Beanie" from his brothers when he was little.

Nimrod

CT-8250, known as Nimrod, is a shiny assigned to the Wolfpack that "affectionately" earned his name from @wizardofrozz's Sergeant Sawbones, due to the poor guy's tendency to make not-so-smart decisions without really thinking about whether or not he should even go through with such decisions in the first place. Got a stupid dare? He'll do it. Dumb plan of attack that definitely won't work? He didn't stay around long enough to hear the plan was stupid and is already getting himself into a predicament.

Boost and Sinker are the usual suspects when it comes to those who dare him to do something stupid, but despite all of their hazing, they love their dumb vod.

He's sweet as can be, despite how often he gets himself into shit.

Stretcher

CT-3880, known as Stretcher, is a clone medic for the 327th Star Corps. He earned his name due to a genetic mutation that ended up making him taller than most clones, at about 6 ft. 5 inches.

Personality-wise, he's relatively quiet and has a sort of intense "resting murder face", which can make him kind of intimidating to those who don't really know him when combined with his height and visible strength. The truth of it though, is that he's actually a sweetheart, he just has a hard time when it comes to talking to others who are new to him and can be kinda introverted.

When talking to others he's unfamiliar with, he comes off as direct/a bit deadpan (which is really just him feeling awkward around those unfamiliar to him, and trying his best to not mess up the interaction), but once you get to know him you can see the cracks in that initial demeanor. His fellow troopers of the 327th even know him as a little bit of a worrier when it comes to their well-being, a softy for his brothers.

When he's with them, taking care of them, his expression does actually soften just the teensiest bit while muttering about how they ought to be more careful and try not to get hurt again if it was something small, but that he's glad they're okay.

Aside from that though, he does a good job as a medic for his fellow troopers, and doesn't let his internal awkwardness impede his work in any way.

One notable thing is his friendship with Bly, who's probably one of the few people to get him comfortable enough to behave in a jovial manner, cracking a smile and revealing his dry humor.

No proper reference for him atm, but here is one for his general hairstyle/facial hair

Swindle and Hoodwink

CT-7777, known as Swindle, and CT-7878, known as Hoodwink. These troublesome twins get lumped together because they come as a pair...a pair of bastards, that is. Assigned as troopers to the 327th Star Corps, from their names along, you can guess how they got their names.

These two have been turning tricks since they were cadets on Kamino, making bets and rigging games to get what they want. After leaving Kamino, in their downtime, they found themselves hopping from bars and running scams on natborns and fellow clones alike to rake in credits.

On the surface, they like identical, which isn't a surprise since they're clones, but these two go out of their way to look exactly the same to a tee, with their armor painted with basic markings and their hair kept in standard reg cuts. A smart way to tell the difference between the two though is that Swindle has a gold-colored tooth just on the right side of his top row, while Hoodwink has a gold-colored helix piercing on his right ear of a horseshoe.

Under their armor though, they're pretty tatted up, which is how they express themselves.

Once you get to know the twins though, you can see through the persona that they put up, and they're a lot like night and day.

Hoodwink without Swindle is a little on the quieter, more introverted side, less likely to talk as much without him. He's patient, and a little more likely to be remorseful about tricking someone than his brother, a sweetheart at the end of the day who looks up to his older brother.

Swindle is cocky, full of himself, and gladly presents himself to be an asshole flirt who's ready to trick someone into practically giving their credits to him. Beneath all that though, you have a jaded clone who has a very limited amount of trust in others, who believes that in this galaxy it's solely him and his brother against everyone else.

Especially because he and Hoodwink were the only ones of their original batch that made it off of Kamino.

Those the pair do trust though are limited...they respect Bly enough to listen to him when he's being serious whenever he scolds them for getting in trouble, and they hold Aayla in very high regard because she treats them well.

Sources for references below:

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

[squidsponge]

He really went and copied Commander Cody's entire outfit - visor, jetpack, head strips, flashlight, chin piece, paint scratches, wireless routers, modem lights on chest to monitor which antennae are connected to a network, and all - and nobody is talking about it.

I have to believe Rex choked when he first showed up like this after his promotion.

CAPTAIN VAUGHN | CT-0292

[autumnalfallingleaves]

@codywanweek Day Seven: Modern AU: Rural type jobs (farmer/cowboy/homesteader)

This is from an AU that's been floating around my thoughts that originally started with an idea for a Codywan meet-cute where Obi-Wan owns a bookshop and Cody is one of the Valentine's Bandits that operates in Portland, Maine-- they meet when Obi-Wan stays late at his bookshop the night before Valentine's Day, and catches Cody in the act of putting up a heart on Obi-Wan's storefront :)

The Fetts are a family of (mostly) lobstermen in this AU, so I thought it'd be cute to draw for today's prompt 🦞 (Cody is also a carpenter! I've encountered it a few times and I liked it so much I decided to incorporate it into my own modern AU :) )

reblogs are highly appreciated, and please do not repost my art

[skyguyslittleproblem]

i asked my roommate if i could put this on our door and he said no💔

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XX

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 6.1K

A Like without a Reblog will result in an automatic block.

24 Relona

A sprout, so pale in its orange it looked white, crested the soil of the pot—a burst of the sun before it began a new day. Sometime between this morning’s watering and this evening’s, the bud decided it was time to experience life outside the comforting coolness of its soil. 

Kazi thumbed the little sprout. “Hi, buddy.”

The sprout mushed, its fuzzy bulb tickling, and she slowly retracted her hand, not wanting to accidentally kill it. She watered the soil, mindful to hydrate the sprout without drowning it, and then leaned back on her haunches. 

A look through the sunroom’s windows revealed her sister on the wraparound porch. She wanted to show Daria her sprout. Out of anyone, her sister would understand the significance of this moment. 

However, Daria was enjoying the comfortable heat of the evening, peeling beans for tonight’s dinner. Matches sat beside her, helping. Based on Daria’s stained cheeks, the demolitions expert was telling her a crude story. Kazi decided not to interrupt. It was more amusing watching her sister’s strained smiles and encouraging nods as Matches laughed at something he said. 

Beyond the porch, seated among an elder tree’s roots, Nova and Hound talked. Tree foliage provided ample shade to hide their expressions. Based on the article she found Nova reading yesterday, she assumed he would be working with Hound for the foreseeable future.

A sharp command rang through the cracked-open windows. 

“Again,” Fox said. 

Wiping at her forehead, Neyti glared at Fox. 

“Don’t give me that look.” Fox crossed his arms over his chest. “You can do better—you will do better. Again.”

Huffing her frustration, Neyti faced Cody, lifted her balled fists, and lunged for the man’s hand. One jab with her left hand, a quick feint with the right, and a final punch with the left. Her knuckles collided with Cody’s palm. His smile was soft with encouragement. Neyti looked to Fox.

“Better,” Fox said. He assessed Neyti for a moment and then motioned to the table where Daria and Matches sat. “Get some water.”

With a satisfied nod, Neyti waltzed through the backyard’s ferns, plopping into an open chair and accepting a glass of water from Daria. Another glass went to Cody, who squeezed Daria’s shoulder. 

Kazi looked Neyti over once, confirmed the little girl was well, and then returned her attention to Fox. His black shirt clung to his skin, and sweat slicked his curls back. He’d spent the entire afternoon working on his project, the fallen tree finally taking shape.

Its shape bewildered Kazi, though. She didn’t understand why Fox was building a—

“You have a nice set up.”

Kazi flinched, glancing over her shoulder. Court stood beneath the sunroom’s partition, still dressed in the same black jumpsuit the men had found him in. At least it looked tighter and crisper, freshly washed.

“Thank you,” Kazi said, regaining her feet and dusting her hands together. Court regarded her, his head tilted in assessment. Nonplussed, she cleared her throat. “You know, you don’t have to stay inside, if you don’t want to. There’s a lake, and the jungle is full of hiking trails.”

A dismissive nod preceded his approach, and he surveyed those outside. “How often do you work?”

Studying his side-profile, the reddish hue of the setting sun set the whites of his eyes on fire, Kazi hedged, “I work a normal schedule.” 

He was silent, unblinking, and she glanced at the elder tree where Nova sat, wondering if Court needed to talk to someone. Needed…help. Then again, he held himself with a stable composure, seemingly collected and unaffected, rather than a man facing a potential mental collapse. 

“Are you interested in getting a job?” Kazi asked.

His lips twitched. “We’ll all need one. What do the former commanders do?”

She waved toward the windows. “They work these missions.”

“And their income? Where does their pay come from?”

“Most likely their contact.” Moving toward the game table, she pretended to tidy Wolffe’s puzzle, an attempt to create distance. Maybe she was being rude, too wary, but she couldn’t muster the shame to care. “But I don’t actually know. If you’re interested in joining them, I would talk to them about it. I can get Wolffe—”

“I’ll talk to him later.” Court twisted away from the windows. Those deadened eyes fell on her eyes, sharp and probing. “Wolffe said you work for the government. What do you do?”

“I’m an analyst.” Tension curled in her stomach, uncertain as a fog descending on a harbor. “I track military exports.” 

Court didn’t need to know about her private work for the magistrate: the intel she continued to analyze concerning the missing and deserted clones. With the men’s help, Fox’s expertise in slicing especially, the scrubbed and manipulated data had protected their missions. So far.

“You must have a high security clearance.”

“Somewhat.” Kazi shrugged. “The Security Institute was founded less than two years ago. It’s still rudimentary compared to Imperial governances in the Mid and Inner Rims.”

“You work with a band of rogue clones, yet you serve in Imperial forces.” Court took a step in her direction. “Why do they trust you?”

“I may work for the government,” she said slowly, “but that doesn’t mean I support it.”

A twitch overcame Court’s face and he opened his mouth. Soft footfalls interrupted, however, and a moment later, Wolffe appeared. A black work shirt replaced his usual white, the sleeves rolled to his forearms; his usual gray poncho was nestled in the crook of his elbow.  

Inclining his head to Court, Wolffe faced her. “We’re going, Ennari.”

Kazi frowned. “Where?”

“Out.” Wolffe extended his hand. “To dinner.”

“Neyti?”

“Daria said she’ll watch her. Cody is making dinner. And Nova’s setting up his telescope for Neyti to use tonight.” A satisfied smirk, similar to the one Neyti had sported a few minutes ago, completed his smug demeanor. “Any other questions?”

Smiling, she placed her hand in his palm. “Where are we going?”

The red sun burnished the wooden flattops of Hollow’s Town, the sky spired with brilliant orange and creeping navy blue.

Kazi and Wolffe wandered the Marketplace’s walkways, the colorful canopies withdrawn to allow the evening sunshine to warm the stalls. Small crowds loitered on the streets. Wolffe, with his hood drawn, blended in well. 

He was on edge, though, his tells noticeable only because she had studied him so closely for months. A rigid set to his shoulders. A forced casualness to his stroll. An occasional flex in his fingers, even though they were clasped behind his back. 

The Imperial presence was confined to Canopis, at the moment. But Kazi knew, from the blaster strapped to his thigh, Wolffe didn’t trust them to remain in the capital, and he wanted to be prepared. Since he was as obstinate as he was mistrustful, she didn’t suggest they return to the house. Instead, she reached for his hand. 

Warm fingers curled around hers, slow and tentative. A thumb smoothed a light circle to the back of her hand. 

Their stroll slowed and they rounded a corner. 

Strong spices wafted through the air, as palpable as the steam from roasting meat. The crowds here were louder, busier. Kazi leaned into Wolffe, resting her other palm against his bicep. His muscle bunched; his fingers twitched in her hand.

“Neyti spoke to me,” she said. They paused near a stall selling Elucan wine, and Wolffe looked down at her, his eyes widened in surprise. She’d spent the last few days debating whether or not to tell him, but his opinion mattered, and she needed to share it with someone. Someone who understood the importance of this moment without turning it into a lecture or demands for the future. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“She trusts you,” Wolffe said, eyeing an expensive bottle of white wine. “Has she said anything else?”

“No.” They moved to the next stall. “She was looking at my adventure book when she spoke. That’s how I knew she wanted to go flying the other day. She told me.”

A splinter of darkening sunlight lit Wolffe’s face and the slight curve of his mouth. Her eyes narrowed.

“You have an adventure book?” he asked. A hint of amusement softened his tone.

“Yes.” He huffed a quiet chuckle and she rolled her eyes, fighting the urge to smile. “My mother got it for me when I was young and I filled it with a bunch of photos from my trips at sea.” She paused. “My parents called me their ‘adventurous’ kid. Hence, the name of the book. Real original, I know.”

Ahead, the walkway ended and they exited the Marketplace, aiming for downtown. 

Wolffe kept their pace slower, more idle, as if trying to delay their arrival at the restaurant. “You don’t think you’re adventurous anymore?”

Kazi laughed. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It happens when you get older—you lose interest in stuff like that,” she said. “You mature and realize life is different.”

“Would you think differently if you still lived on Ceaia?” Wolffe’s tone was inscrutable, assessing.

“No, and it doesn’t matter.” She gestured to their surroundings. “I live here now.”

“Do you want to live here?”

“What I want doesn’t matter.” His hand stiffened in hers, and she pursed her lips, sighing. “We’re safe, that’s what matters. And Daria’s medicine and healer are here, and getting Neyti adopted is easier—”

“What?” Halting in the middle of the empty walkway, Wolffe stared at her, brows furrowed and mouth parted. “You’re putting Neyti up for adoption?”

Kazi winced, releasing his arm. “It’s…been one of my goals since we first arrived here.” 

Bewilderment wrinkled his features as he searched her face, and she gritted her teeth, berating herself for being so careless.

“Her application has been processed,” she said. “Now it’s simply a matter of when a family shows interest.”

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently, because Wolffe straightened, his jaw clenching. “You love that little girl, Ennari.”

“That doesn’t matter.” He started to protest and she cut him off. “It doesn’t. I was never meant to be a mother, and Neyti needs someone who is.”

“Why.” The word was flat, harsh like the press of his lips and the glint in his eyes. 

“Because.” Her cheeks warmed and she averted her gaze, shrugging blasely. “I’m not the affectionate, loving type that Neyti needs—that any youngling needs.”

“You’re not…” Wolffe scoffed, his grip around her hand clammy and tight. His face lowered to hers. “Who told you that shit?”

“Wolffe—”

“Who.”

“Stop it.”

The things her mother told her—the things she knew were true—weren’t his concern. And she wasn’t in the mood to humiliate herself in front of him tonight. But Wolffe scowled at her, his demand unwavering. 

“You weren’t here those first two months,” Kazi said stiffly. “You didn’t see her. She lost her mother and that relationship isn’t replaceable.” 

“I’m not arguing it is,” he hissed. “But she needs a mother—”

“Yeah. She does. And I’m not that woman.”

“You can’t give her up—” 

“I’m her caretaker, and I decide what’s best—” 

“And if I want to step up?”

“Don’t say that,” she snapped. His nostrils flared and she gritted her teeth harder. “Neyti is my responsibility, and mine only. Not yours.” She swallowed. “Anyway, we haven’t even been together for a month—” 

“I’ve cared l—” Wolffe faltered. Working his jaw, he regarded her for a long, stilted minute, and then he shook his head. “Don’t be rash.” He clutched her hand harder. “That’s all I’m asking. Something comes up, we talk about it.”

For a pent breath, she considered him. “Fine.” 

Anger still clenched his jaw, and annoyance pinched his mouth, but Kazi refused to cave. 

She meant it, what she said. Wolffe might want to fill a role in Neyti’s life, a role that was needed, but his missions were his primary concern. They came first; she had learned that lesson the hard way. And she wouldn’t allow Neyti to form an attachment only to lose another parent. She wouldn’t allow another little girl to lose her papa. 

Kazi continued along the walkway, and Wolffe fell in step beside her, their hands still interlaced.

“Please don’t tell the others,” she said after a few paces. “Daria doesn’t know. Neyti doesn’t even know, and I don’t want it to get out. It’s possible nothing ever comes of it.”

A heavy sigh heaved from Wolffe. His thumb continued to circle the back of her palm. An instinct. Or afterthought. 

The sun had finally set, the dark blues and grays of a tumultuous sea bathing the horizon.

A group of males, loud and rowdy, strolled toward them. Wolffe tugged her closer and they crossed the street, evening’s shadows casting him as a more imposing figure. 

Stilted silence yawned between them, nearly physical in its discomfort. 

Surveying the darkening sky, Kazi broke the silence. “Why are your brothers teaching Neyti to spar?” 

Wolffe released a low chuckle; some of his tension ebbed away. “We all learned when we were young.”

“Your upbringing was quite different.”

“Learning how to protect yourself is a good skill for anyone to learn.” He gave her a pointed look. “You should learn too. You and Daria.”

“Daria? The one who’s getting weaker and weaker with each passing month?” Her smile lacked mirth, and Wolffe winced, a silent apology in his squeeze of her hand. “I agree it’s a good skill to have. But it’s ultimately pointless. A real soldier will always be able to overpower me.”

“You don’t learn self-defense to win a fight,” Wolffe said. “You learn it so you have a chance to escape and run. To survive.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Frustration roughened his voice, and they paused on the edge of a walkway, waiting for an aircar to pass. “You’re acting too flippant with your life. I don’t like it.”

She sniffed. “I understand what you’re saying. And I think it’s good that you guys are teaching Neyti.”

He observed her through narrowed eyes, as if debating whether to believe her. “Promise me you’ll fight. If it ever comes to it—promise me you’ll survive.”

“Wolffe—” 

“Kazi.”

The seriousness in his face, the tightness of his grip, told her he wouldn’t drop this. That he cared about this, and that she owed him a truthful answer. 

Holding his gaze, she said, “I promise.”

Signs flickered to life, buttery yellow and warm. People enjoying a meal or drink busied the restaurants and cantinas’ patios. 

They walked in silence. While Wolffe’s quiet was contemplative, Kazi was second-guessing their conversation about Neyti. 

And if I want to step up?

The words were a kindle to that soft glow within her. Dangerous, if she truly analyzed the situation. But she didn’t, avoiding the glow steadily escaping her control, and instead concentrated on tearing apart the question.

Because, really, he had no business suggesting it. They were friends, and they were trying this thing between them, and he didn’t even realize the hurt he would cause when he—

“Do you feel alive?” 

The question yanked her from her thoughts, and she blinked at Wolffe. He was staring straight ahead, the neutrality in his features forcibly apathetic. 

“Do you?” Kazi asked curiously.

Rolling his shoulders back, he shrugged. “Growing up, we were told we were soldiers. Nothing more. Nothing less. We were soldiers. That was it.” 

They paused outside the restaurant, its sign lucent white, and he faced her, his expression guarded. Vulnerable.

“I’m not convinced I’ve known what it feels like to be alive. Outside of basic instinct to survive. I didn’t know that feeling. Even as a boy,” he said, his voice lowering. Hoarsening. “But being here—seeing my brothers safe, the lot of us doing what we want…” His fingers flexed around hers. His gaze remained guarded, and yet it grew softer. Gentler. “I think I’m starting to.”

“You deserve it,” she said. Because he did, and sometimes, she wasn’t convinced he believed it. “To rest. To put yourself first. To go after what you want. You deserve it all, Wolffe.” The evening’s darkness enveloped his face, soft hands holding him, though the restaurant’s white light sharpened his scar. She brushed a finger across his cheek. Just beneath his scarred eye. “You deserve to live.”

He twisted, his lips grazing her palm. “You do too.”

Her smile was weary, similar to the exhaustion he couldn’t seem to shake. They were both trying. 

“Eluca was supposed to be safe,” Kazi muttered.

Setting aside her datapad, she lifted her face to Wolffe. He was hovering behind her, one hand braced on the back of her chair, the other flattened to her desk, while he read over her shoulder.

Both the local news and her private comm line with Fehr and Carinthia lacked information. 

Dinner had been a quiet affair. An assortment of sauteed vegetables, steamed rice, and freshly baked bread filled their stomachs; a glass of whiskey and a mug of Elucan chocolate mush further emphasized the ease of the early night. Whatever tension had survived their conversation on the walkways soon winked out, replaced by blue-white stars winking into existence.

Their soft laughs and relaxed demeanors were ripped away, though, when a military vehicle arrived. Stormtroopers leapt from the vehicle. They stormed the cantina across the street. 

Within three minutes, it was over. Two bloodied males were dragged away.

Kazi had loosed a breath of relief, grateful the two males were the stormtroopers’ targets. Because the moment the black vehicle rumbled onto the street, she’d feared for Wolffe’s life. 

Thought a passerby or patron had reported him. 

Sat, trembling, as she tried to determine a plan of action so he could escape.

The dinner revealed one thing: if it came to it, she would sacrifice anyone to keep her family safe.

Leaning back in her seat, Kazi scowled at her ceiling. “Eluca was the safest option compared to other planets. It was never supposed to be like this.”

Gods, she sounded pathetic. Complaintive and whiny, ungrateful. At least they didn’t live in Canopis; at least Hollow’s Town remained relatively safe and free of Imperial oversight.

Wolffe perched himself on the edge of her desk, folding his arms over his chest. He regarded her with a carefully even expression.

“Do you think it’ll get worse?” she asked.

“Can’t say.” He frowned at the files on her ‘pad. “But things can change quick. I know that firsthand.”

She dropped her gaze to the hands wringing in her lap. “I just want to feel safe. And I know how ignorant and unfair that sounds coming from me when you—”

“You deserve to feel safe, Ennari.” A firm steadiness hardened his voice, a mountain weathering the strongest of winds, unmoved. Quietly, Wolffe added, “We all do.”

Deciding it was too late to dwell on the increasing danger of their situation, Kazi started to untie her braids, a necessary distraction from the thoughts whirling inside, and instead, chose to watch Wolffe.

He was studying her room: the gray, folded sheets of her bed and the matching quilt; the bookshelves along the opposite wall housing her adventure book, a cactus from Daria, and a charcoal sketch Neyti had drawn of the ocean; the white curtains tucked aside, revealing the jungle’s rolling hills. 

“Your shelves could use some personality,” Wolffe commented.

Judgment underscored his tone, and she frowned. “I didn’t know you’re an interior decorator.” 

He threw her a bored look and pushed away from her desk, approaching the shelves. “Why’s your dragon downstairs?”

“She doesn’t match my aesthetic.” At the roll of his eyes, she chuckled, glancing at her closed door. Though her dragon remained downstairs, she swore she could feel its unblinking gaze, observing her in its uncanny way. Sobering, Kazi said, “She’s too much of a reminder of life before.”

Wolffe wandered to her bed. “Before what?” 

“Before everything.” Setting aside her hair ties, she combed her fingers through her hair. “Before my father died. Before Daria and I stopped liking each other. Before the Purge. Before all of this.” Her voice had grown colder, bitter, and she cleared her throat. “I tried to get rid of her but I couldn’t. So she sits downstairs. It was a compromise.”

Reassessing her room, as if she was looking through Wolffe’s eyes, Kazi grimaced. Her bedroom was nothing more than utilitarian: bare, clean, tidy. Lifeless. The only sign someone had recently lived here was the lack of dust. Even her cactus could survive without her. 

The rustle of dried paper interrupted her musings as Wolffe lifted a seed packet from her nightstand. He arched a brow at her.

Her cheeks warmed. “It was a thoughtful gift.”

“This is trash,” he deadpanned. It was her turn to roll her eyes, and Wolffe shook his head, replacing the seed packet back where it belonged. Another slow survey of her room commenced, and then he straightened. His head angled toward her refresher. “Can I use your shower?”

Kazi blinked, momentarily rendered speechless. It was such a random request. And yet there was something bedded into his words, scrupulously layered, guarded: a question, no, a suggestion.  

Perplexed, she gestured to the ‘fresher in acquiescence, and, after a prolonged search of her face, Wolffe disappeared. A few seconds later and the spray of water, a gentle patter, spilled through the cracked door.

Kazi returned her attention to her ‘pad. 

Keying into the datafolders Fehr passed along every month or so, she searched for Ceaia. 

A foolish idea, really. Ever since her arrival on Eluca, she’d avoided the network’s reports on Ceaia. To her knowledge, they were mere assessments of Imperial presence in the Outer Rim. Simply a means to remain informed. Anyway, she would never return to her home planet, so updates were pointless, a dull fingernail reopening a flesh wound. 

But tonight…

The first datafile inside the Ceaian ‘folder presented an overview of the planet: Most of the information detailed the small Imperial force in the capital and the Empire’s disinterest in the planet. Imps bolstered the central government on the eastern continent. Rebellion was nonexistent. Kazi knew all this.

However, the further she read, the more bemused she became.

The rebel network had suggested planet-level analyses of Ceaia’s continents, major cities, and even certain harbors. For some reason, the network was interested in Ceaia.

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Kazi scanned the report closer, but any mentions of the network’s plans were properly redacted. Still, she skimmed the analyses.

Searching…

There were individual files on specific cities and harbors. 

She scanned the list. 

Familiar names flitted past.

She scrolled further, searching for—

Outlook Harbor. 

Her heart stumbled at the familiar name; a cold sweat clammed her palms. 

The rebel network had investigated her harbor—a harbor in the northern continent lacking any connection to Imperial accusations and the Purge. Opening Outlook’s file, she read through it.

Sensitive information redacted—information that clearly detailed the network’s plans—Kazi could only theorize the network’s goals. But there was one line that caught her attention. One line, in the Overview section, that demanded her attention.

Empire rumored to abandon shortly.

The sentence replayed in her mind, a broken holofilm repeating over and over. 

Because, if the Empire abandoned Ceaia, Outlook Harbor would be safe and maybe—

Shoving away from her desk, Kazi massaged her temples, pacing the length of her room. 

It was too late. Things were in motion here, and finding hope within a rumor, a fucking rumor, was asinine.

She had chosen to run, and Ceaia was in the past, and she couldn’t dwell on it any longer. She wouldn’t.

A sudden quiet seeped into her room; a creak told her that Wolffe had exited the shower, and she stilled. 

Everything within her went silent.

A distraction, she wanted a distraction. No, she wanted comfort: She was still running, and she was tired, and her soul was so sore, and she wanted to pause for just a moment to feel something. 

Alive, she wanted to feel alive, and she wanted to feel it with Wolffe. 

Fingers trembling, Kazi removed her sweater, untied her trousers, tossed her clothes and underthings into her hamper. She moved across the bedroom; the resolved beat of her heart, steady, unflappable, complimented her soft rap on the ‘fresher door.

Steam warmed her face, licked her bare skin.

“You’re late.” One of her white towels covered Wolffe’s lower half—tiny around his waist—and he looked down at her, amusement breaking through his practiced composure.

“You showered too fast,” Kazi said.

“Yeah.” His hands bracketed her jaw; his face lowered to hers. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

Soft lips were on hers, and Kazi ran her hands up his chest, still damp, delectably warm, wrapping her arms around his neck. Wolffe groaned against her mouth. Tangled his fingers in her hair. Gripped her waist and stroked her spine. 

The heat of his hand to her bare skin, the softness of his touches compared to the desperation in his kiss, the way he held her and touched her, sparked her body to life. Need throbbed in her clit, and gods, she needed something—needed him.

Mouthing beneath her jawline, Wolffe rasped, “Tell me what you want.”

Her thighs hit her bed and she didn’t resist as Wolffe lowered her. As his forearms surrounded her head and his toweled lower half settled between her legs.

“To feel something,” Kazi said. Water dewed his curls and she rested a palm against his chest, basked in the hard, rapid beat of his heart.

He leaned back, just slightly, and let his gaze wander the length of her body. His pupils dilated, the dark brown of his eye and silver of his cybernetic giving way to black. A shiver breathed down her spine, tightened in her nipples, and she could only lie there, appreciating the way he took her in, the same way she had seen him study the bioluminescent flora during their night swims: admiring.

One moment Wolffe was perusing her body, and the next, his mouth was on her breast. 

Gasping, Kazi arched into him, clinging to his bicep. His mouth was hot and wet to her sensitive skin, and she ground her hips against him, desperate for any stimulation. Wolffe choked at the contact. His teeth grazed her nipple and—

“Oh gods,” she whimpered.

“This?” Wolffe flattened his tongue along the underside of her breast and licked to her nipple. “This good with you?”

She released a shaky exhale. “Yes.”

A large hand cupped her breast, and a calloused thumb scraped her nipple. She started to tremble. The clench in her cunt was hard, demanding, and she could only stare at her ceiling, trying to quiet her breathing, calm the racing beat of her heart. 

And, fuck, she thought she might actually come from this—from him caressing her nipples, biting gently into her breasts. Her cunt fluttered at a particular scrape of his thumb, and she bit back a whimper. 

A dazed look darkened his features as Wolffe focused on her breasts. She didn’t understand the appeal: Her breasts were small, small enough his hands easily engulfed them, and yet he seemed unable to look away. Unwilling to abandon them as he dragged a long lick across her nipple and sucked on it. 

Panting, she gripped his shoulder, dug her fingernails into his skin, wavering between pushing him away because the sensation was overstimulating, or holding him closer, giving into the pleasure humming through her nerves and tightening her insides.

A finger brushed through her labia and she tensed, glancing between their bodies. Wolffe circled his finger around her cunt. Light, unhurried circles. 

“This?” Wolffe asked. His eyes were on hers, and the dark brown swirled, drunken with desire. “This good with you?”

“No sex,” she whispered hoarsely. Her labia were so sensitive from his circling, and she swallowed a rising moan. “I can’t—” 

“I understand.” Wolffe tapped her cunt and she could feel her arousal slickening him. “But this? Can I fuck you with my fingers?”

“Yes.”

“What about my tongue?” He licked along her breast again, nipping at her nipple. She shuddered beneath him. “Can I taste you?”

“Wolffe.” Need buzzed beneath her skin, burned in her blood, and she was so fucking sensitive, so desperate for any touch between her legs or her nipples, but he needed to know, first: “I take so long—”

“Good.” He removed his hand, and her hips jerked their protest, her legs trembling with restraint. Satisfaction carved a smile on his face. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time, Kazi. Take your time. I’ll enjoy it.”

Before she could dissuade him, Wolffe was kneeling between her thighs, and he was propping one of her legs on his shoulder; and all she could do was watch, her nipples tingling and her clit aching, shaking with want as Wolffe breathed her in. As he flattened the head of his tongue to her cunt. He licked her.

Pleasure swelled deep inside her and her head fell back. Another slow lick followed and Wolffe groaned against her. The noise was low, guttural, and she gasped, bucking against his mouth. His hands flexed around her thighs, holding her open, restraining her against the bed. 

Sweat thickened the heat beneath her skin and she panted harder; her blood ran fast and hot. Wolffe traced her labia, the tip of his tongue so light it tickled, and then he was sucking her clit, his pleased groans rumbling against her.

Breathy, uncontrollable moans hissed between her teeth. A finger circled her cunt once. Twice. It pushed into her and her hips jerked.

“Wolffe.” Kazi lifted her hips, a silent demand for more, but Wolffe kept his strokes languid, his finger curling upwards and massaging such a sensitive spot she fisted her sheets harder and groaned. 

A second finger slid inside, and she whimpered at the pressure, at the stretch of his fingers. It was so much; more than her own fingers. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Wolffe hissed, stilling his fingers inside her. His eyes snapped to her face. “Am I hurting you?”

Breathing through her nose, she shook her head, blinking dazedly at the ceiling. “It’s just…a lot.”

Wet heat encased her clit the moment Wolffe’s two fingers massaged her upper wall. Massaged a spot that had her panting “More, please more” and her hips gyrating against his face.

Tightness coiled in her lower stomach, and the muscles in her legs bunched. She was shaking; her fingers were curled desperately in her sheets. Her breathy exhales were moans, and the pressure inside her bordered pain. 

Wolffe sucked on her clit harder; he curled his fingers and rubbed that spot over and over and over. All of her tightened, and her legs stiffened, and she felt as fragile as thin glass—

She shattered. 

Honeyed pleasure oozed through her blood, seeping into the cracks of her coiled muscles and soothing them. She was trembling, and she couldn’t move, left to blink at her ceiling as a wet tongue lapped at her, its strokes long, slow. 

A sharp flare in her labia made her pull away. Wolffe gripped her thighs harder, his scowl displeased, but at her sharp look, he released her, gently lowering her leg from his shoulder. 

A little tired, a little sore, Kazi lowered herself to the floor, leaned into Wolffe, and kissed him. He grunted against her mouth, seemingly surprised, but she didn’t bother to stop, pressing lackadaisical kisses to his jaw. Licking the muscled length of his neck. Basking in the way he held her weight as he panted against her ear.

It took her too long to realize he was fisting himself. Fisting and stroking his cock. She leaned back to watch him, beads of cum glistening his tip. It took her even longer to realize the wetness he was using to stroke himself was her own arousal—her own release. Wolffe met her gaze, his eyelids hooded. 

Grazing her palm along his thigh, the muscles shivered beneath her touch, Kazi smiled, cupping his balls and squeezing.

“Fuck.” Wolffe’s forehead fell to her shoulder. His breaths grew ragged, pained.

“Show me,” she said, massaging his balls. “Show me how you like it.” 

Roughly, he guided her hand to his base and fisted himself; the heat of his cock burned and her eyes widened in surprise. He tightened her grip and stroked. A groan warmed her neck.

“That’s it,” Wolffe rasped, using her hand to stroke himself faster. Harder. “Fuck, that’s it.”

Bracing a palm on the bed behind her, Wolffe hissed between his teeth, his hips jerking uncontrollably. 

Kazi traced light, teasing circles to his inner thigh, kissed behind his ear and nipped at his earlobe. Wolffe choked. His body stilled. He bit into her shoulder, and then he was spilling onto their hands, onto his stomach. He rutted into her hand, his semen hot and thick, his moans low and hoarse. 

As his thrusts eased and then stopped, Wolffe released her, his fingers trembling as they ran along her ribcage, like he was reassuring himself she was here. She was with him. Indolent kisses warmed her shoulder, soon followed by gentle licks to the mark he must have left.

Eventually they cleaned themselves and returned to her bed, still naked: soft brushes of fingers to skin, languid kisses to knotted muscles. At one point, Kazi laid atop Wolffe, her cheek nestled to his chest, his hands slowly tracing the knots of her spine.

“This,” he murmured, grazing the center of her back, “I’ve been thinking about.”

Trailing a finger along his own scars, she smiled. The line-drawn dragon tattoo was tiny and simple, her sole tattoo.

“Any significance?” he asked.

“I got it as a reminder,” she said. “That the only person whose got my back is myself.”

Pensive silence enveloped Wolffe as he continued stroking her spine, like he was counting each dent. Soon, though, those wandering hands shifted to her hips, her ass, her ribcage. Curious, lackadaisical touches ensued. Kazi wasn’t any better: feeling his scars, the tightness in his muscles, the fat toning his body. 

They were clay, formed from stardust and molded into individuals: to be appreciated, revered.

Later, the moons casting her bedroom in a bluish tinge, Kazi scanned Wolffe’s side-profile. 

“You can smell my soap? From feet away?” she said, disbelievingly. “Even after a couple of hours?”

“Yeah. And when I’m close to you, like this”—he gestured between their bodies—“I can smell you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I can smell when you’re bleeding.” A nonchalant shrug succeeded her appalled blink. “And when you’re aroused.”

“No, you can’t,” she whispered.

“I can.” Amusement was woven into his frankness. “We were engineered to be exceptional.”

“Huh. I don’t know if I’m impressed or mortified,” she said. Wolffe chuckled, and she smiled, brushing her nose to his shoulder. “So, enhanced smell, sight, and hearing. What about taste?”

A devious glint darkened his eyes, and he edged closer, playing with a strand of her hair.

“You taste”—a wet tongue licked the length of her throat and Kazi gasped; Wolffe pulled back—“divine.”

Laughing, she tried to shove him away, but he resisted, grinning down at her.

“Divine?” she said, scoffing. “All you tasted was my body oil.”

“I was talking about your cunt,” he drawled, smirking at her exasperated shake of her head. Returning his face to her neck, he kissed just beneath her jaw and murmured, so quietly she wasn’t sure she was meant to hear it, “I won’t ever get enough of you.”

Minutes later, with Wolffe sucking on her collarbone in a way she knew he had no intention of stopping anytime soon, Kazi glanced at the chrono on her nightstand. She grimaced.

“Wolffe.” He grunted his acknowledgement. “I’m tired.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m gonna go to sleep.”

He lifted his head. “You kicking me out, Ennari?”

A tiny, glowing fist pounded against her chest but she ignored it. If she asked him to stay, then she would grow accustomed to his presence. Rely on it. On him. And what if…

Rubbing her chest, she offered him an apologetic wince. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

Understanding gentled his expression, and he inclined his head, reaching for his trousers, forgoing his long-sleeve. 

At her door, Kazi pressed a swift kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for dinner and for…”

“The orgasm?” he supplied.

“Good night,” she said, unable to stifle her smile. 

Amusement crinkled his eyes and he tapped the underside of her chin. “Sleep well, Kazi.”

Masterlist | A Muse | Chapter 21

A/N: To see how I imagine Wolffe going down on Kazi, check out this artwork (18+/nsfw). If you take a look, please show love to the artist by reblogging. The artist deserves it. The artwork has no relation to Star Wars, but I stumbled across it one day and it reminded me of the scene in this chapter. Please enjoy. (Again, if you view it, please reblog it. Liking a post on Tumblr without reblogging does nothing to support the artist.)

[the-starry-seas]

I uno-reverse your tag on my corries and ask you to talk about Kit ♡

omg hi <3

First things first, he loves novelty candy. Gummy sharks. Fun Dip. Toblerone bars and their funny little triangles. If it comes outside of the standard chocolate bar shape, he thinks it's the coolest thing. He has a shoebox in his locker that has the wrappers to his favourites. (And in a modern AU, his favourite candy is Kit-Kats. Yes it's because he shares half a name with them.)

His favourite fruit is peach, but he hates the fuzzy skins. So his solution is to peel them and then eat the fruit without the skin. Fox hates this, it genuinely unsettles him, but he grins and bears it. His second favourite is maraschino cherries.

Kit and Fox have done those BeanBoozled boxes several times (box of mystery flavour jelly beans and half are horrible). Fox doesn't care about any of the bad flavours and sometimes prefers them but Kit will spit those things out without hesitation. They both think the other is a little weird for their jelly bean tastes.

He wants to join the scout corps to be a massiff scout trooper like Sergeant Hound and Grizzer. When Hound finds out, he suddenly has a mystery injury that requires him to be in medbay overnight, and he asks Kit if he could pretty please babysit Grizzer so that Grizzer's not alone all night long? Fox tells Kit to get the damn dog out of the bunk and let it sleep on the floor... and then give up when Kit doesn't listen the first four times.

Fox makes him wait until he has more experience before sending him off to his permanent assignment, which is eventually massiff scouts! In an AU where Order 66 doesn't happen/Fox doesn't die/insert other happy ending of your choice here, Kit helps oversee the breeding program for massiffs for the other troopers. He baby-talks each and every pup and helps find good homes for the ones that flunk training.

The entire Guard will maul, maim, and murder on behalf of the marshal commander's shiny. Their shiny now. They will be fighting for joint custody. Kit is aware of this and is absolutely 100% fearless as a result because what can hurt him when he has an entire army behind him? This stresses Fox out immensely.

He likes fantasy media that bears no resemblance to his life. He's in the dark about the worst of the way the Corries are treated, because Fox would protect him from anything, but he still knows a lot. Media is his escape to a world where maybe Fox wouldn't have anything to hide from him.

He can't watch/read anything set on Coruscant because there's inevitably some detail that the producer/author gets wrong and he's just >:| every time. Very strong feelings about it.

His other weakness is funny throw pillows. He only has one pillow, because there's only so much room in his bunk, but he has a stack of pillowcases as tall as his arm. You can keep a calendar by the regular rate that he switches pillowcases.

He cried when he got his face tattoo and thought he was a total wimp for it until he met another trooper with a face tattoo who validated that it was in fact extremely painful. (He also didn't think through the face tattoo. It was an impulse decision and design.) Fox thought that Kit was reapplying a sharpie doodle for three weeks, he's kind of embarrassed about that.

There's a second tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. It's an outline of a fox head, with a second smaller outline inside it. A fox and its kit :)

He's tried to grow plants several times but he's killed every single plant he's ever touched. He's a little bit genuinely upset about that because plants are so pretty and he really wants to have one.

He re-dyes his hair once a standard month so that his roots don't grow out too much. He's shaved the sides into patterns a few times but generally prefers his hair to be as low maintenance as possible so he doesn't really do that any more.

He didn't realise he was faceblind for years after being deployed to Coruscant. All the clones look the same and all the Kaminoans look the same, how was he supposed to figure it out before that?

Not great with heights, but only when he can see how far down it is. Put him on a bridge and he'll be nervous. Put him on a windowless troop transport and he'll be fine.

Fox literally gave him a stylus to use as a chew toy until they figured out what chewelry was. Kit's is, of course, red. He keeps it in his locker when he's on duty because he doesn't want to lose it or have it confiscated somehow.

[mereelskirata]

Please tell me everything there is to know about your OC Lock 🙏🏻 What an absolute cutie pie. He is soooooo adorable. It should be a crime 🥺

@the-bad-batch-baroness

I'm glad you like my little sunshine lad~ @the-bad-batch-baroness <3 I don't give him as much attention as my other ocs but he is a precious bean..

SO *rubs little raccoon hands together* Lock originally started out as a one-time character created solely to make our dear Commander Fox miserable back when I was super into him (and the Corrie's) having blackouts. It would be during one of these blackouts that Fox would end the life of my lil guy. Had even made a small post about it pretty much plotting what I had wanted to draw/write out (actually did sketch it out but I abandoned that now lol).

Then an awful thing happened 💀 I ended up getting attached to this one-time character that I had sent to his demise.

I gave him a reason why he had a target on him in the first place and gave him a name to match. Next thing you know, he becomes this "forever shiny" who's mostly got a positive outlook on everything despite how awful the clones are treated by those who despise their very existence.

Lock absolutely adores his Massiff partner, Ci (prounounced Key because Lock and Key. Also Welsh for Dog xD Figured why not) and though it's not his job, he's taken up a hobby of slicing into things. He has dreams about a future he could possibly have once the war is over. He also does his best to make sure his brothers, and others who he cares about, are happy.

Especially his very tall Nautolan s/o (WHO I HAVE NOW NAMED TINALI EHIEQHI) who he had met during a night out at 79's. Lock's a terrible flirt so his first and second attempts of asking them out went poorly. His close brothers and friends (also ocs of mine, Laughter and Ten-Four) have a dreadful thing of betting against him so they definitely lost a couple of credits between them when Lock finally managed to succeed in winning Tinali over after future attempts.

Aaaaand that's my once-doomed boy Lock who I begrudgingly got attached to. Thank you for asking about him~ :D

[roseaesynstylae]

Star Wars: Republic Commando: Hard Contact, Chapter 3

"The Neimodians had a taste for elaborate and wholly inappropriate grandeur, and Ghez Hokan despised them for it.

Lik Ankkit's huge villa was set on top of a hill overlooking a kushayan plantation -- a foolish choice given the prevailing winds, but it seemed to satisfy the Neimodian's need to show he was boss. The location might have made sense from a military perspective, but -- as Ankkit was a bean-counting coward like all his kind -- he didn't need defensibility, either.

No, the Neimodian was a di'kut. A complete and utter di'kut."

Say what you like about Hokan, but he's a great person to kick off the Di'kut Count.

I've always felt that the Neimodians get way too much hatred in-universe. The novel Brotherhood agrees with me.

I agree with Hokan's feelings on ostentatious grandeur; in fiction or in reality, it gives me a massive headache.

Di'kut Count: 3

"Fulier couldn't have been good at calculating odds or he'd have never on Gar-Ul in the tavern. But at least he was prepared to stand up for himself, despite all that mystical nonsense he spouted. Hokan admired guts, even if he rarely tolerated them. They were always in short supply."

This is coming from the villain, so I was debating whether or not to put it on the Jedi-Bashing count; after all, we aren't supposed to side with him. But, as I've previously mentioned, I am not cutting this series even a molecule of slack when it comes to how it regards the Jedi. Can't you just hear Traviss behind the page, commenting that a Mandalorian would have calculated the odds and defeated Hokan easily?

Jedi-Bashing: 4

"Niner wanted to laugh, but you didn't laugh at a Jedi, especially one who seemed to care what happened to you."

This is one of the lines that wouldn't be a problem if it was written by anyone else.

Also, "seemed" to care? Again, if it were anyone else... I'll just say that Plo Koon is living proof that the Jedi genuinely care about the clones.

Jedi-Bashing: 5

"Ah. For all their skills and wisdom, there were still some things the Jedi didn't know. Niner hesitated to to lecture Jusik.

[...]

It wasn't Jusik's fault. He had far bigger issues to worry about. There was no reason for a Jedi commander to concern himself with the details of a clone commando's life. But Niner thought he probably would, and he admired the Padawan all the more for that."

I don't know how many times I'm going to end up saying this (I suspect a lot), but I would not have any issues with these lines if they weren't written by Karen Traviss.

Jedi-Bashing: 6

"He meant good luck. He wanted them to survive.

Niner, who had known for as long as he could remember that he was a soldier bred to die, found that intriguing."

Okay, this is just depressing. The clones' lives are incredibly sad and become more so with every new installment.

Jedi-Bashing: 6

Di'kut Count: 3

Main Post

[skywxlkcr]

angstpril day 16: cry for help

deep inside, you cry cry cry

For the first time since he was created, Robotboy did something against his own will, while being aware of it.

It was horrible when he walked, when he listened to Kamikazi, when he was instructed to kill Tommy, how could anyone even think of something so horrible?

When he Superactivated and started shooting at the boy.

In that moment, Robotboy wanted to shoot himself.

He felt like he was locked in a cage with no key, and he could only stand and watch.

He was sure that the screams of the ten-year-old would keep him up at night. He wanted so badly to stop, to stop shooting, to tell Tommy that Robotboy doesn't do that!!! It's not Robotboy!!! but his own body wouldn't listen to him.

His little metal heart was breaking in half when Tommy screamed and cried and asked him Robotoboy, it's me Tommy! and he couldn't do anything. If he had hair it would probably all be pulled out by now with all his frustration.

No matter how hard he tried to give his body the commands, stop shooting, leave the boy, stop, go back to normal mode, it didn't work.

"*When I break free, you can be sure Kamikazi, I'll get my revenge," he promised himself in his head, and his eyes glowed red for a moment.

As Tommy ran into the room with no way out and the clones caught him, Robotboy (mentally, of course) fell to his knees. This is it. The end. Robotboy is about to kill his best friend, without being able to stop it. He felt like screaming and crying and to think that it was the crying that led him to where he was, because he wanted to cry, because he wanted to be like a real boy and-

Tommy started crying.

Robotboy cried mentally along with him, but something changed.

He felt one solitary tear run down his cheek and....

He could move.

HE COULD MOVE!!!

Without wasting another moment, he dealt with all the clones nearby then returned to normal mode.

"Tommy?" he spoke up, frightened that maybe something had happened that he hadn't noticed, if he had accidentally hit Tommy after all and-

"Ro?" Tommy replied, leaning out of his hiding place, and Robotboy was never so happy to see the boy.

"Tommy!!!"

They both rushed to each other, meeting in the middle. They hugged each other tightly after which Ro let himself be held by Tommy.

"Ro! Boy am i glad to have you back to normal. "

Robotboy at that moment wanted to tell him so many things. I'm sorry, please forgive me, I should be more careful, it's my fault.

But in the end he put on a joking tone.

"Robotboy happy Tommy crybaby."

"Wait, I'm..." he sighed, but smiled slightly "me too, buddy."

Yes.

Robotboy was definitely glad that Tommy was a crybaby.

that episode really scared the crap out of me when i was a kid lmao that and the tune up (they really did a number on me) i love these little beans with all my heart

*a little callback to what tommy was also saying while running away from ro