#let them lek

[caiusmajor]

It's really charming to me that the horns Chaos Space Marines like to grow, and the tusks CSM terminators have, are both male secondary sex characteristics. They're out there displaying how what good mates they are, and I love that for them.

[frostbite-the-bat]

Collection of concepts for Some Guys that I'm nice nuff to share some of the first design processes and ideas of

(I ran out of tags in my tag rambles... Mean but yea there's some stuff random dpau info dump)

[nimata-beroya]

Note: Since my old masterlist is getting notes again (and I'm hosting @tbb-appreciation-week this year), I thought it's a good time to release a new version with a lot more resources. If any of you know another site or thing that it's missing from the list, let me know and I'll include it!! [Altho, I'm getting this close 🤏 to the hyperlinks limit on this thing 😆]

Note 2: To avoid tagging the 3 people from whom I got multiple resources repeatedly, I've placed 1-3 asterisks between square brackets after the links, depending on the OP. I give the respective credit to them in a legend at the end of the post.

PLACES / TIME

Interactive Galaxy Map by Henry Bernberg

Map of the Galaxy

List of planets and moons [Wikipedia /needs expanding]

Planet Name Generator 1 [SciFi Ideas]

Planetary System Generator [Donjon]

Tatooine Location References [*]

Various locations Cross-Sections (Jedi Temple, Palp's office, Tipoca City & more) [**]

Republic - Separatist - Hutt space during the Clone Wars

Hyperspace Travel Times (to calculate how much time would take to go from point A to point B within the GFFA)

Standard Calendar and Holidays [including month names!]

Galactic Standard Calendar [wookiepedia // including week day names]

Date converter according to SWTOR [Google sheet]

Dated Star Wars Chronological Order (Movies + live-action shows + animation)

TCW Chronological Timeline by @mauvrix

Estimated date for: shared by @spectres-fulcrum

Partisans' attack on Onderon

Siege of Lasan

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

General

Star Wars Name Generator 1 [Donjon]

Star Wars OC flow chart by @thefoodwiththedood

Star Wars Name Generator 2 [FantasyNames]

Star Wars Name Generator 3 [FantasyNames]

MetaHuman [Unreal Engine]

The character creator

Droid Name Generator

Star Wars Randomizer by @aureutr

Character Picrew [Twi-leks, Zabraks, Torgutas and Nautolans] @/megaramikaeli

Jedi

Taking a Closer Look at the Jedi Order in Star Wars Canon [Meta/Reference Guide] [**]

Jedi Order Structure Flowchart by @rileys-nest

Mandalorians

Mandalorian Armor design by MandoCreator

Keepers of the Way (Mandalorian Lore) [*]

Clones

Complete List Of Named Clone Troopers shared by @propheticfire (Organized by Unit)

Clone Creator [MandoCreator]

Clone Picrew

Star Wars Character Templates by SmacksArt [the ULTIMATE battery of template for any human/humanoid original character in any era. From troopers to droids, from Jedi to Sith, from KOTOR to the sequel Trilogy. 100% RECOMMENDED]

Basic Guide to Clone Trooper Armour by @odekiisu

GAR structure summary by @intermundia

The Clone Wars Republic Military Hierarchy Flowcharts [***]

Clone Trooper Lore [*] [Ranks, Culture, Training, Organization, etc.]

Clones and Kamino [*]

The Bad Batch Characters Concept Art shared by @shadowthestoryteller

MISCELLANEOUS

Star Wars Character Age Comparison Chart by @the-yearning-astronaut

Tusken Raiders lore by @snarwor

Materials (fabrics, leathers, silks, plastics, construction, metal composites, etc.)

Materials in Star Wars by marvel_dc_heart_throbs

Star Wars Fashion [*]

Leisure, Art, Musical Instruments, Ethnography [*]

Political and Criminal Organizations in the GFFA [**]

Financial reference about credits by @thecoffeelorian

List of TCW Opening Quotes

Transcripts of all the TCW episodes shared by @book-of-baba-fett

Star Wars Crawl Creator [not exactly writing-related, but just for fun]

HEALTH AND MEDICINE

Canon Medical Lore [*]

Real World reference for Field organizational structure for corpsman (medics) [*]

Kaliida Shoals Medical Center (Republic Haven-class medical station) shared by @clonewarsarchives

GAR Battalion Aid Station [*]

GAR Clone Medic Q/A [*]

More combat medicine, shipboard medicine, veteran issues, and military culture [*]

SHIPS AND VEHICLES

Ship Generator 3D

Ship Name Generator

All Terrain Tactical Enforcer (AT-TE) shared by @stairset

Republic Vessels Reference [*]

Low Altitude Assault Transport/Infantry (LAAT/i) [*]

List of GAR Flagships in the Clone Wars by @meandmyechoes

Layout of the Havoc Marauder

Dimensions of various ships from the Clone Wars [**]

FOOD AND DRINKS

Star Wars Menu Generator

In-Universe Alcoholic beverages

Canon Cocktails (recipes) [*]

Another In-Universe Drinks list shared by @systemic-dreams

Teas in Star Wars by marvel_dc_heart_throbs

Foodstuff [*]

Canon Star Wars Holiday Recipes [*]

Trask Chowder Recipe (from The Mandalorian) [*]

LANGUAGES; PHRASES AND SLANG; VOCABULARY

Languages of the Galaxy [*]

Script of different languages in the GFFA by @lucif-hare-blog

In-Universe phrases and slang [Google sheet]

List of phrases and slang [wookiepedia]

List of equivalents to real-world objects [wookiepidia]

Talk Like a Clone Trooper shared by @archeo-starwars

Aurebesh Translator [Aurebesh.org]

Learning Aurebesh Tools [Aurebesh.org] Reading - Writing.

Mando'a Database [Mando.org]

Mando'a Transcripticon [MandoCreator] (Create your own text in the Mando'a script.)

@project-shereshoy (Blog that collects and posts sources for Mando'a from all over the internet.)

Mando’a Categorized Spreadsheet

Learning Mando'a Tools [MandoCreator] Reading - Writing.

Setting Thesaurus Entry: Spaceport [Writers helping writers]

Fan-created Conlangs

@dai-bendu-conlang (Jedi Culture Explored) (This blog is the home of the Dai Bendu Conlang, invented by the Archive of Our Own Users aroacejoot, @ghostwriterofthemachine, and loosingletters for the Jedi Order in Star Wars.)

Lasana Lexicon by Anath_Tsurugi (fandom lexicon of the Lasat Language)

HELPFUL BLOGS & SITES

The amazing @fox-trot, who not only makes astonishing art and write an amazing fic, she also responds to medical questions and gives all kinds of references for writing medic characters. Check her #medicposting tag and you'll find tons of information. Also check #star wars reference and her art tag while you're at it.

@writebetterstarwars, which seems to be inactive, but there are a bunch of references there.

@howtofightwrite The place to find out how to write a good fight scene.

@scriptmedic no longer active, but it has a great deal of useful information.

@scripttorture for your whump needs. Major trigger warning for all its content.

@sw-anthrobiology A blog dedicated to collecting headcanons about the biology and cultures of Star Wars species.

@archeo-starwars In-universe sources on culture and history.

@clonewarsarchives Resources & Concept Art Blog for The Clone Wars animated series.

Wookiepedia If you don't find something in here, it's probably because it doesn't exist, neither as a canon nor legends reference.

Star Wars Databank: The official Star Wars website's reference guide. All canon.

WRITING IN GENERAL (For those who don't want to die like Stormtroopers)

SlickWrite: Completely free; online. Checks grammar, punctuation, flow, and writing style according to different settings (including fiction writing).

ProWritingAid: [RECOMMENDED] One of the most thorough online proofreader I've ever used. Although when using a free account gives extremely thorough feedback, with +20 different in-depth reports, for only the first 500 words. However, you can earn a premium account license (for a year or for life) if you get 10 or 20 new users signing up for free; (if you wouldn't mind doing so using the link above and help me earn mine, please). The settings allow you to check your writing according to your needs, from general to formal to creative. It has a bonus that you can check depending on the genre you're writing. For example, in creative, you can choose romance or sci-fiction (there are 14 sub-genre in total). And just like google docs, you can share a document, and people can view, comment or edit it too.

LanguageTool: [RECOMMENDED] Another excellent proofreader. It also has a word limit in free accounts, but if you use the add-on for Google Docs, it counts each page as a new document, so hitting the word limit is nearly impossible. It helps you to rewrite a sentence (3 a day), even if it doesn't raise any flags; it's very useful for when your sentence is grammatically correct, but it doesn't feel quite right.

Grammarly, Hemingway Editor: No so great, but they do the basic job.

Legend

[*] Shared by @fox-trot [**] Shared by @gffa [***] Shared by @cacodaemonia.

[bethanythebogwitch]

I am a survivor of Florida, having gone to college there for 4.5 years. There's a lot (a LOT) to not like about Florida, but the wildlife is not one of those things. So for this Wet Beast Wednesday, I'm gonna talk about the most famous Florida resident, the manatee. And why stop there? I'll discuss all the sirenians in one go.

(image: three manatees facing the camera. They are rotund, resembling a potato in shape. Their heads are smaller and end in squarish snouts. They have two flippers at the front of the head. The tail is flat, wide, and round. They are grey all over)

The sirenians are a taxonomic order of marine mammals consisting of 4 living members: three species of manatee and the dugong. They are the only herbivorous order of marine mammals, a trait that has given the the nickname "sea cows". The name Sirenia comes from the sirens of greek myth. In the original story, the sirens were bird with the heads and breasts of women, but later stories turned them into mermaids and that's the version that's stuck. There are unconfirmed stories that European sailors (the most common story uses Christopher Columbus) mistook manatees for mermaids, which is why they're named after sirens.

(image: a manatee facing the camera. Its face is visible, revealing two nostrils on a broad, flat shout covered in whiskers. It's eyes are located above the snout and are small and black. It is grey, but has patches of greenish algae growing on it)

Sirenians all have a pretty similar body plan. They are fusiform (bulky in the middle and narrower at the ends) and very bulky animals not built for speed. They don't ned to be fast (though are capable of short bursts of speed) because unlike other marine mammals, they are herbivorous. The vast majority of a sirenian's diet consists of sea grass and most of the rest is other aquatic plants. All species have been known to supplement their diet with invertebrates, mostly during times of poor food availability. When feeding, they move their snouts through the sediment, letting sensory bristles detect plants. They then use their flexible and muscular lips to pull up the sea grass, roots and all. While an individual can eat up to 15% of their body weight a day, they are known to seek out seagrass patches with higher nitrogen content instead of eating everything they can get. This reliance on seagrass limits the range of sirenians to shallow coastal areas, rivers, and estuaries in warm climates. Hearing and touch (with the bristles that cover their bodies) are their main senses. Their eyes are weak, making them almost blind. Sirenians are large, with the largest ever known, Stellar's sea cow, growing up to 10 meters (33 ft) and 11 tons. Mature sirenians are large enough to have no natural predators. Like all marine mammals not named sea otters, sirenians have a thick layer of blubber to keep them warm. Their bones are extremely dense and likely act as ballast to counteract the buoyancy of the blubber. In the marine mammal breath-holding competition, sirenians do pretty bad. They can hold their breath for about 15 minutes at max.

(image: a dugong. It is similar in appearance to a manatee, but skinnier. Its tail is a fluke with two points. Its head is larger and the snout and mouth point downwards)

Sirenian reproduction is somewhat poorly-understood. They only have a single calf at a time (with a gestation period of about a year) and mothers will raise them for one to two years. Calves mature quickly, reaching sexual maturity in around 2-5 years in manatees and 8 years in dugongs, though most females do not give birth until between 6 and 15 years. Their nipples are located behind the flippers, making a nursing calf appear to be sucking its mother's armpit. Sirenians are solitary animals who typically only congregate in groups when females are in estrus. Males are believed to compete for the right to mate and may engage in lekking. Lekking is when a male will claim a territory and mate with females in this territory while chasing opposing males out. Sirenians live long lives, with the oldest known individual being a female dugong that lived to 73. Despite how long they live, each female will only get pregnant a few times in her life.

(image: a manatee mother with calf. The calf looks like a smaller version of the mother and is suckling, making it appear to be biting the mother's armpit)

As with all marine mammals, sirenians are descended from land mammals. The study of sirenian evolution has led to a surprising conclusion: the closest relatives of sirenians are elephants. It sounds weird, but there is substantial DNA evidence supporting this conclusion. In addition, the tusks of a dugong (see below) and flexible and prehensile lips of sirenians are based on the same structures as the tusks and trunks of elephants. It gets better, the next closest relative of both groups are the hyraxes, who look more like rodents than anything that should be related to an elephant or a manatee. All three are part of a clade called paenungulata, which is part of a clade called afrotheria. The other main group within afrotheria is afroinsectiphilia, which consists of aardvarks and various shrews. The afrotherian family reunions must be wild.

(image: a scientific diagram showing a cladogram of afrotheria and the groups within it. source)

The dugong (Dugong dugon) is the last surviving member of its family, which also included the now extinct giant Stellar's sea cow. The easiest way to tell a dugong apart from a manatee is its tail, which is shaped like a dolphin's fluke instead of the round tails of manatees. Internally, there are also multiple differences, many of them relating to the skull. The skull has a very distinct shape, with the upper jaw bending down at a sharp angle. The tip of the upper jaw has two short tusks emerging from it. These tusks are found in moth males and females, but develop differently. In males, they emerge when the calf reaches sexual maturity, while those of females only emerge later in life and sometimes not at all. It is believed that these tusks are used by males to fight over females, as males are often found with scars matching the shape of the tusks. Dugong teeth as simpler than those of manatees, being simple pegs. While manatee teeth will be replaced continuously through life, dugongs only get one set and have to make it count. Dugongs reach an average length of 3 m (10 ft) and 420 kg (930 lbs). Dugongs have the largest range of any sirenian, stretching from east Africa to the Solomon islands east of Australia. This range is fragmented rather than continuous and dugongs are separated into multiple isolated populations. The largest population is believed to exist in northern Australia.

(image: a dugong feeding on seagrass, seen from the front. It's snout is being dragged through the sediment, leaving a cloud of dirt behind it. Small yellow fish surround it)

The west Indian manatee (Trichechus manatus) does not live in west India. It lives in North America. I dunno who named it, but you had one job. The species is divided into two subspecies: the Florida manatee (T. m. latriostris) found in the Gulf of Mexico and east coast of the United States, and the Antillean manatee (T. m. manatus) found in the Caribbean and down south to Brazil. The Antillean subspecies is much more poorly known compared to the Florida subspecies. The Florida manatee may be the most well-studied of all manatees due to the extensive conservation efforts regarding them since the 1970s. Like other manatees, the WI manatee has a round, paddle-like tail and fingernails on its flippers. Their diaphragms are divided into two hemidiaphragms, each of which contracts one lung. They have the northernmost territory of all manatees, which comes with some consequences. They are susceptible to stress and even death when exposed to water under 20 degrees C (68 F). They travel south during winter, usually to southern Florida, but conservationists still have to rehabilitate manatees harmed by cool water every year.

(image: tourists in transparent kayaks observing a west Indian manatee swim below them)

The Amazonian manatee (Trichechus inunguis) is the only sirenian that lives entirely in freshwater, residing in the Amazon river basin. They move seasonally inhabiting flooded areas during the wet season and lakes during the dry season. They fast during the dry season, subsisting off of their fat stores. There are believed to be multiple relatively isolated populations of Amazonian manatee, but studying them is difficult due to them preferring to live in areas away from humans. The Amazonian manatee is the smallest sirenian, reaching between 160 and 230 cm (5 ft 4 in to 7 ft 7 in) and 120 to 270 kg (265 to 595 lbs). Scientist Marc van Roosmalen has proposed the existence of a related species, the dwarf manatee, that lives only in one tributary of Aripuanã river, which is in the habitat range of the Amazonian manatee. Their existence is debated, but most manatee scientists think that they are misidentified juvenile Amazonian manatees.

(image: an Amazonian manatee with calf, seen from ahead and below. they have the same body plan as the above images, but are a darker grey with a white patch on the stomach)

The African manatee (Trichechus senegalensis) is the only species found in the old world, in west Africa from Senegal to Angola. They occupy the largest range of habitats of all sirenians, from tropical islands to flooded forests, to offshore sand flats, to lakes and rivers. They will swim up river during the wet season and back down during dry season. Some isolated populations live exclusively in rivers, never venturing out to sea. They are the most omnivorous of the sirenians, seeking out invertebrates to eat and stealing fish from nets. Many cultural groups in their range consider the African manatee sacred, some saying they used to be people and that killing one requires paying a penance. Mami Wata, a water spirit revered in throughout west, central, and south Africa, has been identified with manatees by some folklorists.

(image: an African manatee seen from the side in an aquarium. It looks almost identical to the west Indian manatee)

All sirenians are classified as vulnerable by the IUCN, except for the Antillean manatee, which is endangered. As they have few to no predators as adults, the primary threats for all sirenians come from humans. Boat strikes and getting tangled in nets kills and injures many individuals, possibly more than die of natural causes. This is not helped by them lacking fear responses to predators, meaning they don't flee from humans and boats. All species were historically hunted for their meat, blubber, and bones, reducing their populations. While all species are now legally protected, poaching and legal hunting by indigenous groups still occurs. They are also threatened by habitat loss as coastal development, pollution, and climate change reduces the range of seagrass. Damming has also reduced their ability to travel up rivers, cutting off valuable feeding ground. Learning about freshwater ecology will make you despise dams. In the United States, the west Indian manatee has become an icon of conservation, especially in Florida, where they have extensive legal protections. Controversially, the US government reduced their legal protections in 2017, much to the ire of many conservation groups. The manatee is the state marine mammal of Florida, presumably narrowly beating out dolphins and meth heads wandering around the everglades.

(image: two juvenile manatees who were abandoned by their mothers. They are being bottle fed by employees of the Cincinnati zoo. Ideally, they will be able to be released into the wild once weaned)

[36maf1a]

Johnnys home

I've kinda been sitting on this one idk why, anywayys enjoy;) 18+

When Johnny comes home,  All bets are off. You might as well clear your schedule because he is not letting you go anywhere 

Do you have to grab groceries for dinner? Jus get an instacart Lass. you had a planned brunch with friends? Better tell em ya aren't feeling well. Job calling you in today? Can't ye jus quit an’ let me take care of ye? 

He doesn't take it lightly when he finds you trying to leave. Why are you trying to leave him? He has everything you need, plus more He spoke into your ears, dick filling your tummy. He spread your ass cheeks open, before spitting on your ass, watching the spit leak own to his cock as he coos his dick getting harder by the second. Your legs trembling as you grip the bathroom counter “Shuid just throw all yer clothes away” he halved joked thinking of ways to keep you home with him all. Of. the. Time. 

He presses so deep into you,  so deep that you can hardly breathe. Your hands move behind your back to get him to pull out a little your hands trembling at the feeling. Your freshly done makeup is ruined, one eyelash hanging from your eye as tears stream down your face, mascara flowing with the salty tears,  The new dress you brought for the occasion, is around your stomach your breast pushed up into the counter your neck craned upwards when he tugged at your head “don't ye miss ma?’ he grumbles looking down at your ass clapping against his v line. Your moans along with skin slapping fill up the entirety of the bathroom 

“Yes, yes oh god” You could hardly register anything your head, just giving him an answer so he could keep fucking you like this. 

“Dont seem lek it”

“I do, I do, missed you so much”

“Why do ye keep trying to leave then?” he asked mid-thrust pulling the entirety of his cock out before slowly pushing back in “Huh” he urged for a reply. Once you didn't know how to give “I don't know.. I sorry.. I'm sorry” he only chuckled at your response while you whined and choked as he slowly bottomed out inside of you a groan leaving his lips. Your eyes looked at him from the mirror your pussy painfully clenching around him. He pulls out his dick completely pants leaving his lips 

 “Relax.. Gonna make ma cum” he said chuckling before smacking your ass. 

 You whimpered at the slap, your feet lifting to your tippy toes as you pressed back against him your head falling to the counter while you took deep breaths you were so close, you just needed more, more of him. his dick filling your lungs as he pushed back inside your gummy walls, a huff leaving his lips,” So warm..” he leaned over your body his hands pushing into your breast as he kneads them his thumb and index finger pinching your nipples as he pulled down on them

You moved uncomfortably around him your knees shaking as he pushed deeper in and deeper “johnny…” you hiss lifting your head up his warmth covering your back as he kissed your nape 

And up to the back of your head, his nose sniffing in your scent. He goes back to kneading your breast your nipples now hard under his palms as he pushes into them, he feels how your body jolts before he begins pounding back into you, your eyes closing as you moan out his name. He let go of your breast before leaning back and placing his hands back on your waist 

“Ye don't deserve this” he speaks aloud slowing down his thrust “ ‘Is a dick is fur good girls’ he feels you squeeze down on him you felt so close but yet so far as he began to pull out “Johhny stop playing” you quickly rebuttal as you look back at him.   his hand goes to the dress around your stomach he slowly pulls it back up over your shoulder his knuckles gazing over your sweaty skin he fixes the dress to where it looks at least half decent he grips your ass after, whistling at you as a compliant.

“hev a good time, aye?” he pushed his shorts back up before kissing your cheek a grin plastered on his face as he walked out the room, leaving you in the smelly bathroom, your legs slightly trembling with an uncomfortable ache in between your legs.

[blackkatmagic]

Ooh for the ask game Oola. I love her💕

On Ryloth, every type of bender has their own dance. It’s hard to remember, sometimes, that the rest of the galaxy just sees bodies moving.

Oola stays still, careful, quiet, as Jabba sleeps. There are a handful of people left around the main rooms of his palace, but more of the guests and hangers-on are asleep, sprawled out drunk in corners or having retreated to their rooms. The only one still awake is the Ubese bounty hunter in the heavy mask, settled back against the far wall to watch the room.

It’s a problem, but—Oola is too desperate to care at this point.

Only knowing that this was an option got her through the dance earlier. Oola had been tempted to fight back, to resist even if she knows what happens to slaves who defy Jabba. She’d held herself back, though, because Jabba always drinks heavily when he’s pleased, and getting the smuggler as a wall decoration had pleased him.

It means he won't wake up for anything short of an explosion, now, and that’s all the chance Oola needs.

Carefully, she shifts, slowly enough that the clink of the chains won't draw attention. Boba Fett is still in the palace, probably lurking in the halls somewhere, and he’s dangerous enough, clever enough to make her wary. But—

With her body between her and the bounty hunter, she brings her hands up, breathes out, breathes in again. The foundation of any dance is breathing, even more than motion, and she remembers hours in the sun with her mother, training her breaths in Ryloth’s scorching heat. The hand motions are simple, too, muscle memory now, and she turns her hands, slides her palms past each other, breathes. Tatooine's suns are down, and this would be easier in the day, but that’s fine. This is her only chance to get away, so she has to take it.

Light flickers, fire kindles. A flame leaps between her palms, and Oola curls around it, lets the chain connected to her collar fall right through its heart. Harder to hold it while she’s still, but an actual dance is impossible, so this has to be enough. At least for this, it’s all in the breath, at least.

Oola breathes out, in, out again, and focuses on heat. Focuses on Ryloth’s suns, and the feeling of the traditional dance the firebenders use to call up their flames. She knows the steps, knows the guide they give, and like this her bending is stripped entirely of its grace and beauty, filed down into something utilitarian and rough, but—

She’s escaping. That’s the only important thing.

And then, just a little heavier than silence, there’s a footfall behind her.

Oola jerks her hands down, ducks. The chain is glowing white-hot, though it hasn’t melted yet, and there's no hiding that, but if she plays stupid, if she uses the fact that to Jabba she’s just a plaything—

The bounty hunter’s hand slides into her line of vision, careful to avoid her lek, and catches the chain. Then, sharp, their other hand slashes down—

Fire, a thin and blue-white lance of it that’s hotter than anything Oola has ever felt before, strikes the metal and breaks it in one blow, sending drops of molten steel scattering across the sand.

Quick, the bounty hunter pulls Oola to her feet, still gripping the glowing end of the chain so it can’t fall back against her skin. They jerk their head towards one of the halls, but don’t wait for a response, just pull Oola in that direction at a near run, ducking into the shadows, then down the halls, through several rooms and up a narrow set of stairs meant for the slaves. Near the top, there’s a door standing ajar, and the bounty hunter pushes it all the way open, guides Oola in, then shoves it closed behind her.

Fear rises, and Oola takes three quick steps back, unease warring with relief. The Ubese hasn’t shown any interest in Jabba's personal slaves since their arrival, and they have to know what Jabba will do to them for taking Oola even this far, but still an unsteady sort of fear washes through her veins, makes her hands tremble as she raises them. One on one, she can defend herself if she needs to, without the threat of Jabba's retaliation, but people will notice.

Slowly, deliberately, the bounty hunter raises their hands, palms out, then reaches up. They grip their helmet, pull—

Not an Ubese at all. A Human, a woman with heavy braids of brown hair bound up out of the way, clear brown eyes that meet and hold Oola’s without hesitation.

“Easy,” she says, pitched quiet even though they're alone in the room. “You were trying to escape, weren’t you? I can help.”

“Why should I trust you?” Oola asks, as steady as she can make it. “You work for Jabba.”

The woman snorts, like that accusation is ridiculous. “I'm here to save a friend,” she says. “The one in carbonite.” Hesitates, just for an instant, and then meets Oola’s gaze again and says plainly, “My name is Leia Organa. I'm the princess of Alderaan. If you know that, it means I'm at risk, too. So we’re even. We can trust each other.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Oola says, but—she knows what happened to Alderaan. She’s heard of its princess, even on Ryloth. Even on Tatooine.

The princess of lost Alderaan saved her. It’s like something out of one of the old tales her father loved.

“Why not?” Leia asks, and smiles. “You don’t have to worry. My brother and I have a plan.”

A plan. Oola didn’t have one beyond breaking the chain, and she puts a hand up to the collar, something shiver through her. If there’s really a way out—all the way out, and not just to die in the desert, free but still doomed—someone like Princess Leia would surely know it, or be able to make it. But—

“Boba Fett is somewhere in the palace,” she says, and it feels a little bit like despair. “He’s too dangerous—”

Leia rolls her eyes. “My brother is distracting him,” she says, and smiles at Oola, like sharing a secret. “That’s part of the plan.”

It seems utterly impossible that the prince and princess of Alderaan are both on Tatooine, both working to free one friend from Jabba's grip. Seems even more ridiculous that they would care about freeing an enslaved dancer, too, without any reason to bother, and Oola has to take a breath, close her eyes. It feels like a dream, like at any moment she’s going to wake up to Jabba's touch, a waking nightmare she’s lived through for months now.

It's not Jabba's touch that makes her open her eyes, though. It’s a Human hand, cooler than her own skin, bare of its heavy glove. Leia touches her cheek, light, careful, and when Oola looks up, Leia holds her gaze with a seriousness that makes Oola’s heart turn over in her chest.

“We can get you out,” Leia promises, and her smile is a warm thing, like Ryloth’s sun. “Your firebending is beautiful. It shouldn’t stay in a place like this.”

Oola shudders, closes her eyes. She presses a hand over Leia's, leans in, and when Leia wraps her up in a tight hug, she twines her lekku around Leia's arms, buries her face in the worn pressure suit, and just breathes.

She was just dancing, before. But Leia saw it for what it was. And right now, that feels like the only thing that matters.

[vanhelsing-if]

Wait, what did Dracula do in Van Helsing's bedroom? 😳 🫣

nothing lol dw, they didn’t go into helsing’s room. they were just wandering past and let the impulsive thoughts win. dracula wanted to know if the bracelet could open helsing’s bedroom, but they wouldn’t invade their privacy like that.

they also tried osyka, leks, frankie, and ren’s bedrooms.

they did not try vic’s because they were afraid something might blow up or xoese’s because they knew that there would be a protection spell on her door and she’d hunt them down and gut them for even attempting to open it.

[alltheirdamn]

A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!reader)

CHAPTER 2

Summary: Mando finds himself back on Tatooine... unable to let you go. Warnings: mentions of drugs, violence, death, weapons, language, Mando being an unusual softie Word count: 4k A/N: I know it's a slow burn... please stay with me; I promise it'll get better! Also, there will be no Grogu in this fic... babies tend to ruin all the fun lol

The Mandalorian didn’t know why he returned to Tatooine. He didn’t know why he had reset the navigation from Nevarro back to the damned desert planet, but he sat in the silence of the Razor Crest, plotting his arrival. 

Every bounty was the same to him: a job. 

Never had he been so handicapped by one until she fell into his lap as a puck for a high reward. She was unlike other bounties, though, not a criminal in the sense he was used to. Most bounties he was given were high-profile criminals, assassins, imperial sympathizers… but she wasn’t any of the above. From what Karga had told him, she was simply a runaway employee for a very wealthy man. And the Mandalorian didn’t ask questions. He never did. 

The navigation panel flashed red, signaling the ship's deceleration as it neared the planet’s atmosphere. The Mandalorian took a deep breath, exhaling through the modulator and filling the dead air with his frustration. He wasn’t frustrated with her, but rather himself. 

For letting a fucking bounty take up so much space in his mind. 

When the Crest finally touched down on the dunes of Mos Eisley, the Mandalorian was already trudging down the docking ramp before it could fully open. He was well aware of the city's layout and knew exactly where to start looking for the bounties’ employer. Kesi Jissard was unfamiliar, yet Mando knew enough people in the crime ring to find him. He started the search in the lone cantina on the eastern edge of the city. The cantina stood without a name; the crowd within its walls spoke for itself. Though he was not on a hunt for anyone sleazing about inside the cantina, it didn’t mean there weren’t a few scared criminals. A few begged for the challenge; they begged to triumph over a Mandalorian. But none would come close to winning a victory over him– and they wouldn’t dare get close enough to try. With beady eyes following his every move, Mando approached the bar. 

“Hey, shiny,” emerged a voice amidst the clamor around him. The Mandalorian turned slowly, hand resting on the blaster at his side. 

Leaning against the bar counter was a Twi’Lek, their body hardly covered by their dance attire. They smiled, a grin far too deceiving for the innocence their body language spoke. He sized them up, considering the level of threat they could pose. Deciding the mildness of their demeanor, the Mandalorian’s hand slid away from his blaster– but close enough in reach if needed. 

“I’m looking for information,” he was curt. The Twi’Lek smiled, bearing white teeth that flashed against their pale blue skin. Reaching over, they pet the fabric of his gloved hand, mischief lingering in their actions. Quick in response, the Mandalorian pulled his hand back, settling into a tense stance against the bar counter. 

“Hmph,” the Twi-Lek frowned, “Information costs money around here, ya know?”

The Mandalorian sighed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling as his chest exhaled. Digging into the side of his pilot suit, the Mandalorian retrieved a small pouch of credits. Tossing them onto the counter, he waited for the Twi’Lek to speak again. After considering the credit amount, the Twi’Lek smiled, eyes scanning over the bounty hunter’s body. 

“What’d you wanna know, hun?” They spoke in long drawls. 

“Kesi Jissard, who is he?” He asked. There was a grit under his tone, one of desperation and impatience. 

The Twi’Lek squirmed at the name, looking visibly uncomfortable. Their voice was a low hush, responding to the Mandalorian’s question. 

“He’s a prominent spice trader on Tatooine,” they began. “He works directly for the Pyke’s, or so I’ve heard. He’s not someone you should go looking for.”

“Where is he?” He pushed. 

Their eyes grew wide, staring around the bar that swarmed with more bodies. The Mandalorian knew who was and wasn’t watching, assuring himself that no one was interested in his business. They were all far too busy looking innocent in their booths and tables, hoping the bounty hunter would escort himself out of the cantina. 

“I don’t know where he is,” they said, voice an octave higher than before. His body went rigid, hoping the bartenders wouldn’t interrupt their conversation. “But if I did know,” they continued, “He would be hiding in his junkyard on the town's southern border. It’s riddled with his employees, though. No one gets in there without an invitation.”

His helmet cocked to the side, a bit amused by them thinking he would need an invitation. His armor and weapons were an invitation in and of itself; it called for an audience. One that Kesi would provide. 

“If you try to go in there, you’ll die,” the Twi’Lek grabbed his arm. The Mandalorian shifted his gaze to their tiny fingers wrapped around his bicep. It was a kind gesture, unnecessary to Mando, but a kind effort nonetheless. 

Leaving the Crest on the east border of Eisley, the Mandalorian opted for one of the speeders found nicely parked outside the cantina. It didn’t concern him whose speeder he stole but just that it had enough speed to make it to the southern border before dusk fell over the horizon. As the dust kicked up behind him, the Mandalorian mentally cursed himself for letting this girl take up so much of his time. She wasn’t anything special, just another bounty– he tried to remind himself of these things. But even for a fucking bounty… she managed a way into his brain. Into his bloodstream. And it made him dangerous. He was willing to go to great lengths to ensure she was okay. 

“Dank farrik,” he cursed, finally arriving at the junkyard. 

The size of the junkyard wasn’t what he anticipated; the corners of it reached for miles. He switched on the zoom lens of his helmet, scanning the perimeter. He counted eight, maybe nine, men that were scattered across the grounds. He could see the ship hangar in the middle, part of the roof exposed to erosion. Switching out of the zoom lens, the Mandalorian turned to the thermal reader, hoping it would pick up on the familiar outline of the body that plagued his brain. He only had her in his possession for less than two days; why was she the only thing he could think about? And why did he feel so much rage when he finally saw the heat traces of her body, crowded by other silhouettes in red and yellow auras? 

The rage turned his vision red, guiding his body blindly into the junkyard. His senses were heightened, eyes wildly aware of every pair of footsteps ingrained into the sand. Bodies radiated towards him as if his armor were a magnet for violence. Each attempt to kill him was returned with a downpour of shots from his blaster. The Mandalorian was a better shot and far more accurate than the employers of Kesi. They were subpar, and it was beyond him to understand how the Twi’Lek described this place as a death wish. Perhaps his anger was so strong nothing would stop him. 

The odds were in his favor as he managed his way closer to the hanger, now finding himself at the entrance. It was an open space, the scattered remains of speeders and ships littering the floor. His helmet picked up thermal traces of bodies that began to swarm around the perimeter, his armor working against his efforts to stay hidden. 

“Hey!” someone shouted, blaster fire softly following suit. 

The Mandalorian ducked behind a stack of cargo crates, pulling his blaster from its holster. He remained level-headed, breathing even and cool as he emerged from the blockade and returned fire. His shots landed deep in the bodies of the spice traders that ran at him, their reaction time no match for his. His skill set and years of hunting created very little opportunity for being stopped; the Mandalorian was an enigma unbeknown to the world around him.

While blaster fire bounced off the chest plate that hugged his body, the Mandalorian continued forward, sending bodies rippling against the ground. Though the threats came less, he understood that his presence was becoming more well-known throughout the junkyard. 

Managing his way into the hangar, two familiar bodies crowded the girl's body. He didn’t like them before— he especially didn’t like them now. Jado turned towards his looming figure, quickly drawing a knife from his waistband.

“You got what you wanted!” Jado yelled, allowing a large distance between himself and the Mandalorian. 

The Mandalorian could shoot him on the spot, and nothing stopped him from doing so, yet he enjoyed the hunt. He enjoyed the fear in a man’s eye as he tracked him down, the way their hands shook as they gripped their weapons. 

“C’mon Mando,” Jado released a shaky excuse of a laugh, “Does this mean more to you than credits?”

Gaff held her head up, shaking it until it fell limp against her shoulder. Anger crawled up Mando’s spine, and his muscles tensed as he watched the way her body slumped aim the chair. She was more than unconscious; he knew that for sure. She was overdosing. 

His brain disconnected from logic, sending dueling shots into Jado and Gaff’s heads. Their bodies careened back, and the sound of them falling was the only noise to register amid the chaos. 

She was nearly lifeless in the chair she was bound to, her hands a pale purple as they twisted between the bindings. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, hands working at releasing the ropes. 

Her body tilted sideways, and he managed to catch her and yank her into his hold before she slipped onto the floor. Her eyes rolled slightly, the whites of them the only thing visible. Yes, Mando was scarcely afraid, but holding her limp body was fucking terrifying. 

“C’mon,” he baited, hand tapping her cheek lightly. The only response was another roll of her eyes and the lull of her head falling to the opposite side. Maker, he thought, what fucking drug was this? 

Knowing there was little time left to reverse the effects and any long-term damages, Mando pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight to his chest as he maneuvered the way out of the junkyard. He kept one arm grasping her and the other hovering over his blaster. He had yet to see Kesi again, and when he did, Kesi would be covered in blaster fire.

Mando silently swore to himself that he would hunt him down. He would kill Kesi in the slowest possible way, a small consequence for the crimes he committed— both throughout the galaxy and to her.

Her body weighed heavy in his arms as he pulled her off the speeder and up into the cargo hold of the Crest. Laying her on the metal floor, Mando searched for a pulse under her jaw. It was faint. Even through the gloves, he could feel its flutter pushing against her skin. A sigh of relief left the modulator as he searched the cargo hold for his med supplies. Working alone meant caring for himself, which led him to learn how to heal various injuries. Scouring through the various medical kits and devices, his hands landed on a stack of adrenaline patches— ones potent enough to shock her system awake. 

Returning to her comatose body, Mando observed her face, noticing her lips changing from a pale pink to a pale blue. The oxygen was fading from her lungs, and her breathing became shallow and labored. He said her name over and over, hoping to elicit any response. Even as he pulled on her eyelids to check her eyes, there was nothing but white staring back at him. 

Under the layers of armor and cloth undergarments, the Mandalorians' temperature rose until he was sweltering from stress. He was running out of time, and somewhere inside himself, he was mad. Mad that he ever took her bounty, mad that he ever handed her over, mad that he hadn’t turned around fast enough. She wasn’t a criminal; she was just a girl. He knew nothing of her, yet he knew she didn’t deserve the life she had surrendered to. And she surely didn’t deserve to die.

Taking out a blade from his weaponry belt, Mando began cutting away at her top, the sweat-stained fabric giving away easily at the tug of the sharp metal. He gave no attention to her exposed chest; mind focused on placing the adrenaline patches in the right spot. Peeling away at the adhesive, Mando placed one right above her heart, the other at the pulse on her neck. Connecting the patches to the pressure resuscitator, he inhaled sharply, pressing the button on the buzzing machine.

Her chest jolted upwards, the sound of the resuscitator whirring louder. There was no change in her body, her condition remaining the same. Mando’s breath grew shaky, pressing the resuscitator one more time. Again, her body jolted yet stayed still on the recoil downwards. He waited for her breathing to steady, and the waiting felt like an eternity. He peeled away the patches, their adhesive leaving a red rash on her skin. The leather of his gloves skated over the raised skin, feeling the warmth of her body returning slowly. 

“Maker,” he sighed, falling back on his heels. He watched silently as she inhaled larger bouts of air, her chest rising higher with each. 

She was going to be okay.

Mando stayed in the cargo hold beside her body for some time, waiting quietly for her to wake up. His mind reeled with various thoughts that were a mixture of guilt and anger. Never had he felt guilty about a bounty before; they all were just a sack of credits in his eyes. His job was to hunt; that’s all he ever knew. He had been trained as a foundling never to grow attachments and always to stay loyal to his Clan and Creed. And he had done everything right by the Way, going so far as never to show his face to anyone. 

He had left behind his home and his parents, lost in the war against the Separatists. The last thing he could remember of his parents were their frightened faces as they hid him within a bomb shelter. It was so long ago now that he could scarcely remember what they looked like; flashes of his mother's face came and went in his memories. He knew nothing but the life of the Mandalorians after that, his world shifting into the lifestyle that his Clan taught him. 

Mando had kept his focus on the guild for years, his life as a bounty hunter more important than anything else. He traveled the galaxy alone and enjoyed the company of himself. He rarely interacted with anyone other than his bounties and fellow guild members. But he was here now, anticipating when she would wake, eager to hear her voice again.

Hours went by without a glimpse of any sign of her waking, and Mando grew worrisome. Rechecking her pulse, he assured himself that she would be fine and that the overdose would wear off eventually. But he was anxious seeing her so still and quiet, and he wanted nothing more than to know she would be okay. He knew very little of the various spices that floated through the galaxy, but he knew enough to know that this spice was more lethal than any other. If at all, Mando didn’t even know a spice this potent existed. It wasn’t meant for recreation; it was meant for drugging. His mind spiraled with thoughts of what Kesi had planned to do with her while she existed helplessly on the high of this drug.

Mando shifted over her, swiping her hair from her forehead. He spoke her name softly, coaxing any reaction from her. There was a shift in her body, her head slightly falling to the side. His hand cradled her face, watching as her eyes fluttered open.

Her reaction was exactly as he imagined: abrupt and alarming. She scrambled from his touch, her body crawling back into a corner near the armory wall. Mando didn’t move, allowing her to reconnect with the world around her. Her breaths came out in loud pants, the oxygen intake too much for her after so many hours of shallow breathing. She said nothing, only watched him with bloodshot eyes. 

“You’re okay,” the Mandalorian finally spoke. “You’re okay.”

“What the fuck did you do to me?” She demanded, her bare chest heaving. Mando forced his eyes away from her skin, steadying his gaze on hers. She was mortified and, most of all, angry. 

“Calm down,” he urged. Idiot. “You’re safe.”

“Safe?” She repeated. “Safe?”

Mando stood, giving her the space she needed. She tugged her torn shirt over her chest, the rashes from the adrenaline patches still prominent on her sweating skin. She was disheveled, but Mando couldn’t deny she was still beautiful. There was a ruggedness to her— a past that sculpted her tough exterior. Mando wanted to know more. 

For the first time, he cared. 

And he didn’t understand why. 

“They drugged you,” he huffed.

Her bloodshot eyes tracked him upwards, and her mouth parted as if she wanted to make another jostled remark. But she remained silent, her chest still heaving as she regained oxygen to her lungs.

“You came back,” she whispered after several moments.

Mando only offered a brief nod, not trusting himself with words.

“Why?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

He had no explanation for what he did; it was impulsive and so fucking stupid. But the need to protect her swelled inside himself the longer he lingered in her presence. He tilted his head towards the refresher, and her eyes followed.

“Refresher’s that way,” he said. “You can get yourself cleaned up.”

“Oh,” her lips formed a dangerous pout. Mando thought about what it would feel like to have them wrapped around—no. 

He turned towards the ladder for the cockpit, too on edge to stare at her face longer. She had just about died from a spice overdose, and he was picturing all the ways she could come undone… maker, what a fucking idiot. His fists clenched at his sides before he ascended the ladder.

“Mando!” her voice carried through the silence.

He turned hesitantly. 

“Thank you,” she said. “For saving me.”

Mando nodded and disappeared into the cockpit.

**

He had come back.

The Mandalorian had come back.

Any second later, and you would have been dead. 

You didn’t know if you should be thankful or scared; what did he want from you now? You had begged him to keep you out of sheer fear of the outcome with Kesi’s men. But you had meant it, right? This was a better situation than death, but how long did you have? Mando had the credits, but you were still a bounty. 

Your head was foggy as you stumbled towards the refresher, acutely aware of your shirt in tatters. Had Mando seen your breasts? Something inside your core stirred awake with that possibility, but you shoved it back into your mind. The refresher door hissed open, revealing a small space with only a toilet, a grimy mirror, and a shower. It was compact and clean, telling of how Mando lived his life. Everything had its place, and you feared ruining his lifestyle. What he wanted to do next with you… well, that was up to him.

All you could focus on now was taking a fucking shower and washing off all the dirt and sweat from your skin. The water ran cold at first, nipping at your skin as it pelted down in a steady rhythm. You kept to the corner of the refresher until it started to steam, and then finally, let the water run over your body. Swirls of brown coasted down the ceramic floor of the refresher, the day ridding itself into the drain. You dipped your hair back, letting the water soak you completely. But it wasn’t until your eyes drifted close that the memories started to invade your senses again.

Kesi’s dirty grin.

The taste of the spice.

Your erratic heartbeat and slipping consciousness.

Mando’s soft voice.

It all kept coming in waves until you found yourself slipping down onto the refresher floor, clinging to your body with fresh tears stinging your eyes. You may be free of Kesi—for now—but you weren’t free.

And you wondered if you had just traded one shitty life for another.

Time blurred as you continued to sit under the pelting spray of the refresher, your eyes boring into the white walls until the world around you faded into nothing. The water had long since run cold, and your body was riddled with goosebumps and wrinkles. But you felt paralyzed by nagging thoughts and memories; you really couldn’t muster the energy to move.

A sharp bang came from the other side of the door, forcing you to jolt against the tiled wall, slamming your elbow into the corner of the refresher.

“Fuck!” You hissed. 

“Are you okay in there?” Mando’s voice was rough and oddly laced with a hint of concern.

“Yeah,” you called out. “Yeah, I’m fine. M’sorry, lost track of time.”

There was a beat of silence, and you wondered if you couldn’t hear him speak over the sound of the water. Standing to shut it off, you wrapped your arms around your body and waited silently.

“Left some clothes outside the door for you,” he said. “I’ll be back in the cockpit.”

You waited for the sound of his heavy footsteps to move away from the door, and once you heard the snap of the cockpit door closing, you finally reached out to retrieve the clothes. An oversized sleep shirt and tight black pants were stacked together, and you wondered where in the hell Mando had gotten them from. They were your size, absolutely, but were they someone else’s?

The thought of another woman here with him left you irrationally jealous, even if you knew nothing about him. Why should you care about a bounty hunter? 

But the bigger question… why did he care about you?

You shook away the thought and changed quickly, your body still sore in some areas. The mirror was still fogged from the shower, but you wiped away some condensation just to glance at yourself. Your skin was paler than normal, and a dark hue rimmed around your eyes. 

You looked fucking terrible. 

Smoothing down your hair, you finally exited the refresher, taking in the ship around you. The cargo hold was quiet, a few empty crates scattered around the floor. The interior was made of strong metal, and there was a distant whirring from the carbonite chamber. You shivered at the thought of being forced into it, the endless coldness that would wrap around you. At any point, the Mandalorian could still do that. You weren’t sure what he thought of you–a bounty, a burden, a person to discard. 

Were you better off here than with Kesi?

Your mind drifted back once again to the junkyard on Tatooine. The feeling of his hands on your jaw, the wild look in his eyes–

“How’re you feeling?” A gruff voice came from behind you.

You jumped at Mando’s voice and turned to see him leaning against the ladder. You felt small in his presence, the dim light around you bouncing off his shiny beskar. His posture was lax, and he observed you silently as you shifted nervously. 

“Better. Yeah, better. Thank you.”

He dipped his helm slowly, elongating the silence between you. You shifted again under his gaze, hands twisting in the sleep shirt that hung off your body. 

“Good.”

“Um, Mando. Why–why did you come back?” You asked your eyes on the floor. “You had your reward.”

Mando shifted his body, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Again, there was a steady beat of silence between you as he watched you squirm under his gaze. 

“I don’t know.”

It was all he offered. But it wasn’t enough. 

“What happens now?” You asked. 

“I have to meet with someone,” he explained. “You’ll stay here.”

He didn't give you time to respond before he retired to the cockpit, leaving you alone in the silence.

[thelaisydazy]

Ok I need to ask you. For the firefighter au! If the boys stubbled up on reader who likes fire. Like probably pyromaniac reader I don't know a thought

not exactly a "pyromaniac" but certainly a reader who is intent on burning things. also angst!

FWOOSH!!

Hot air pushed past you and bright firelight lit up the little firepit you’d thrown together using an old trash can and some cinder blocks. You grin at the towering column of fire in front of you, though you can’t help the tightness in your chest. At your feet is a backpack filled with some old junk, things left behind by your ex. They’d left after you caught them cheating on you and now you were determined to be rid of any memory of them. Photos, hoodies, even that little stuffy you’d grown so fond of. You’d briefly thought of keeping it, but all it did was bring back memories you didn’t want to hold on to. 

Slowly you start tossing the photos in, taking a moment to look at each one for the last time before letting them burn. 

“Whit in th’ steamin’ Jesus is goin’ on ‘ere?” a voice calls out making you spin around. You see a broad man with a mohawk striding over to you. You notice he’s carrying a fire extinguisher in one hand and he’s wearing a t-shirt with the emblem of the local fire department on it, the name MacTavish emboldened on the breast. 

“It’s uh.. It’s nothing,” you say, suddenly feeling like it’s a bad idea to be burning all the shit your ex left behind behind your apartment building. 

“Disnae look lek nothin’,” he says. His blue eyes find the backpack at your feet. “Whit ye got thir?”

“I’m..” Your chest feels tight again and there’s a lump in your throat. “My ex left this all. I.. I don’t want it anymore so..”

“So yer burn’in it,” he supplies, and you nod. He sighs and walks a little closer, inspecting the fire. “This isn’t safe.” He motions to one of the blocks. “This one is gunna fall apart soon. Ye need tae build on summat sturdier.”

“Oh uh.. Thanks..” you say, looking down at the pile that you hadn’t thrown into the fire yet. 

The man watches you for a moment. “Am sure if ye hurry, ye can still get th’ rest o’ yer stuff on ‘fore Aye put it out.”

You blink back at him. “Really?” you ask. He nods and you start throwing things in, not wanting to miss your chance. You pause again when you come to your stuffy, frowning as you hold it in your hands before you toss it in the pile. The sight of it burning makes the pang in your heart so much worse though as tears finally sting your eyes. 

A strong arm wraps around your shoulder. “Whoe’er broke yer heart isn’t worth th’ tears, Bonnie,” he says. All you can manage is a quiet nod as you choke back another sob and bury your face in his chest.

[graylinesspam]

One of these days Ahsoka was really gonna have to confront the fact that explosions were very high up her list of strategies. And wasn't that a bit dramatic?

---

Or basically the jailbreak scene from THE suicide squad but make it Star Wars.

His metal caf cup fell to the floor with a clatter, the last swig of cold liquid staining the floor. Cody’s heart was in his throat. Obi-wan’s face shone on the other side of the blue holoprojection; shock in the part of his mouth.

No one else in the room was moving, consumed by the advertisement being played by the holo-table. The foreground showed a pyke flanked by two Black Sun operatives. The Pyke was moving his hand in beckoning gestures as he droned on in his guttural language. Translations scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

And in the background of the video, slowly making her way to the center of attention as the recorder zoomed in, was Ahsoka, suspended from the ceiling in electric shackles. Her long red dress had been torn to tatters and her head hung limply.

One of the Black Suns gripped her by the back lek and yanked her head back so that the camera could capture her unconscious face. One eye was swollen shut and there was blood smeared in an indiscernible pattern across her face. In this low definition, it was hard to tell where she was wounded. Her face was almost misshapen from the swelling.

More text scrolled across the screen as the Pyke jabbered on in what counted as excitement for their species.

Cody’s fist slammed onto the table disrupting the holo in a waving blue blur. “They’re auctioning her?” he demanded.

Obi-wan’s hands had tucked themselves into his sleeves to hide the fact that he was gripping himself by the elbows. “So it seems,” he replied in a strained manner.

“We cannot let this happen.” Cody insisted. Several of the men surrounding them made noises of agreement.

“I’m afraid, as Ahsoka is no longer a member of the military, We’ll need council approval, even the Chancellor’s approval to use military powers to retrieve her.”

“Sir, you know as well as I do that there's no way we’ll be able to stop the vode from going after her. If we don’t organize this, it will happen anyway, and the loss could be greater.”

“I know that Cody. I’ll contact the council. See if I can appeal to them.”

The rescue of Ahsoka Tano was not a mission that was easy to sell. The council was torn between guilt for turning on her and bitterness that she left them. Several times the matter was almost sent higher up the chain for senate approval. But ultimately it was the amount of information that she possessed that turned their minds.

Coming off of the mess with Quinlin and Ventress they certainly did not want Dooku to get his hands on another highly trained jedi with a vendetta against the order. The kind of Sith that Ahsoka could make sent a shiver of dread down the backs of every Jedi master.

She had been a premiere padawan. A prodigy in terms of combat skill and the development of her own inherent ability. For another member of Yoda’s impressive lineage to fall to the dark side.

It would be a disaster. And it would do considerable damage to Obi-wan and Anakin.

And that was before considering the amount of information she had about the Republic’s military movements, their bases, hyperspace routes, tactics, and supply routes. She may be able to single-handedly topple the war in their enemy’s favor.

So the council ruled in favor of rescuing Ahsoka Tano. What they planned to do with her afterward was to be seen.

They had to find her first. Tracking the transmission was useless. Black Sun was too clever for that. But they could track all the major recipients of that broadcast. Money began changing hands. They were following the transactions as they were set in motion. It seemed everyone from flesh traders to Trandoshan hunters were bidding on her. She made a lot of enemies in her short time in the galaxy. And even more admirers which was never a good thing when you were a beautiful young woman.

Everyone could tell, however, that the auction was stalling. They were waiting to see if the separatist or the Republic would put a bid in. It was unlikely that the Republic could get the authority to do so in time, even if they were inclined to. But the separatists, at least the leader of the movement, Count Dooku, was able to make whatever decisions he saw fit with his own finances.

The splicers tracking the broadcast and splicing through the Pike’s network thanked every star in the galaxy that the separatists were dragging their feet, since it gave them more time to find her.

The puzzle piece that busted open the case was an old report of Blacksun scavengers harassing ships exiting the Kessel run. They’d been pursued by authorities and were chased back to a small base on the planet Randa. An uninhabited little rock in the Kessel system not far from Ord Mantel.

It took some digging to find proper aerial photographs from that planet but when they did the base was clearly visible.

It wasn’t much more than a duracrete box from what they could tell, but it would do fine to hold a hostage for a long period of time.

With even more long needless debates happening amongst the jedi and the Admirals Cody had his men gearing up for the extraction. Master Windu had briefly argued that his clones were far better trained in infil and exfil but a soft word from Ponds silenced him on the matter.

Absolutely no clone out of blue armor would have been able to talk their way into this mission if it hadn’t been Cody. The 501st were currently deployed deep in the belly of the war. It was the only way they would have been occupied enough to miss this. And as much as he was grateful for that, Cody would never be able to look his brother in the face again if he didn’t personally go to retrieve his vod’ika.

Besides, they didn’t want to waste any more time waiting for an elite squad. If Cody, as the marshal commander, was not elite enough for this mission, then he should hang up his helmet. He was going to bring Ahsoka home, no matter what.

Ahsoka woke to a terribly loud buzzing. Electricity always grated on her hearing when it was exposed so closely to her montrals. She was also displeased to notice that both her arms were asleep and her back burned in a way that indicated strain.

She cracked her eyes open as far as the swelling would allow. The room she was in was dimly lit but for the holocamera shining a searing beam of light directly into her eyes. She winced at that and her movement caught the attention of whoever was holding her here. A Pyke, with a big ugly gold helmet, was chittering at her in its unpleasant language. It chortled a little laugh as it leaned close and grasped her chin, tilting her face for the recorder.

She sneered at the foul little thing and tried to pull her head back.

It retaliated with a swift punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of her.

Ahsoka wheezed as she struggled to draw in air but it gave her a minute to asses her surroundings too. There was one more sentient in the room, a big burly guard with black sun tattoos on his neck. Just two then.

Ahsoka jerked in her restraints and snarled as soon as she had the air in her lungs to do it with.

The Pyke stepped close again to taunt her in a language she didn’t speak, she took the opportunity to sweep the feet out from under the short creature and send him sprawling to the ground. Disoriented from the water in his helmet moving so abruptly, he had no defense ready when Ahsoka slammed the heel of her stiletto into the glass eye of the helmet and shattered it, she could feel her shoe skewer soft flesh beneath and as he struggled away he broke the heel from her shoe leaving it lodged into his face.

She’d been leaning down to concentrate on the creature on the floor but as the bigger thug approached, Ahsoka bent at the knees and lept gaining height on the tall thug as he lunged to grab her by the neck. His open hand ineffectually collided with her chest as her legs wrapped around his torso and brought him in close to her body. At this distance and from this height it was no problem for her to aim for the black smudge of a tattoo over his windpipe and clamp down on it with her teeth.

A Togruta’s teeth were nothing to scoff at. Ahsoka tore the tattoo right off his neck and took a sizable chunk of flesh with it. As the second man dropped to the ground Ahsoka spat out her mouthful grimacing at the taste.

Taking a moment to gather herself she toed off her strappy heels with a bit of a struggle. Formal attire was not ideal clothing for a kidnapping.

With her bare feet she stretched her toes out to the still writhing Pike’s side and slammed her heel into his ribs, he collapsed down from his knees to his side once more and Ahsoka awkwardly stepped onto the little collection of buttons and lights on his wrist, rolling the pressure of her foot around until she pressed the right button and her bindings dropped her unceremoniously to the ground.

Once there she could slam her cuffed hands down onto the Pike’s face once again disorienting him and buying her time to retrieve the bindings key from the Black sun’s now dead body. Hands freed and swiping a blaster off the waistband of the idiot who hadn’t bothered to draw it on her Ahsoka aimed it at the Pyke’s head and finally put his writhing to an end.

She didn’t know where she was or how she’d gotten there. So she went over the information that she did know. She’d been attending a gala last she remembered. Then she woke up here, with a Pyke and a black sun. Oh and a recorder.

Ahsoka glanced back up at it unsure if she was still in frame or not.

Oh well, it isn’t like she’s never had an audience before.

Black Sun operatives almost never work alone. There’s got to be at least one more. Probably closer to five if this was a high-profile job where they’d been hired by the Pikes

So she readied her blaster as she slammed her hand onto the door’s sensor pad. Two guards stand on the other side of the door and Ahsoka has to fire on both of them before the door has finished opening. Both struggle to reach for their weapons before jerking violently and collapsing to the floor.

She’s no sharpshooter so it takes a couple of shots each to put them down even at this close range. She shoves down the familiar frustration at being left without her preferred weapons. There are probably countless guards and gang members left between her and the exit. And now there’s been blasterfire, so she has to move quickly.

Ahsoka shoves through the next door and into a short hallway; the grey stone walls dim but for a light at the end. When she reaches the end she realizes the light is coming from above. She is in a small atrium with windows over her head and connecting hallways in all directions. She takes a step back towards the hall she just exit and counts the others. Four plus hers makes five. Which way does she go?

That question quickly starts to matter less than the pound of boots on the ground towards her. The sounds echoed from all around her; impossible for her to tell what direction they were coming from.

She retreats further back towards the other guards that she killed and pilfers their blasters off of them as well. She’s far outnumbered here and she’ll need all the plasma power she can muster.

She settles down beside the open door, hoping to use this short hallway as a choke point. There are no other ways into the area outside of her cell, if they wanted to come get her they’d need to converge here.

She didn’t need to wait long before thugs started to enter her hall with their blasters already drawn.

Ahsoka leaned around the doorway and opened fire into the hall. Several enemies dropped to the ground bleeding or dead, and several more retreated back into the wider atrium to escape. As they ducked away Ahsoka made sure to fire again at those downed to make sure they’d stay that way.

These kinds of stalemates, the ones where both sides would wait for the other to peak out, they wasted time. The last thing she needed was to give them the time to call in reinforcements until she really was overwhelmed.

She needed a quick way to break out of here. Ahsoka looked down at her blasters and had a terrible idea. Thinking quickly she removed the power pack and the gas canister from one of the blasters and just a power pack from another. Gas canisters were almost indestructible from the outside They were as tough as beskar. You couldn’t even shoot one to explode it. But nonetheless, the gas inside was highly reactive. All blasters came standard with surge and shock protection to keep the power pack from accidentally igniting them.

But she’d seen before, mostly empty or defective gas canisters get off gassed so they could be disposed of without accidentally exploding anything. It was one of the more dangerous responsibilities of owning a blaster. If you screwed it up at all your face could be burned off.

Ahsoka scooted closer to one of the downed guards and retrieved a pair of binders from his belt She stripped the insulation from the connector point of both power packs and pressed the exposed metal together, immediately an acrid metallic smell began to fill the air. She secured the two pieces together with one cuff of the binders.

There were boots approaching her again and Ahsoka had to use the last blaster to shoot the approaching mirilian down.

She retreated again before the enemies retaliating blasts could hit her.

She quickly retrieved the firing pin from the disassembled blaster and carefully pressed it into the nozzle of the gas canister. The smell of gas is strong enough that she has to hold her breath as she clamps the other end of the binders around the canister.

The power pack has burned through the first layer of metal now and any moment it will spark into an electrical fire. She has to throw her little bomb as far down the hallway as she can.

She takes a steadying breath before reeling her arm back and leaning into the doorway, She force propels it as far as she can, over the heads of the thugs and down an opposing hallway. Dodging the next spattering of bolts Ahsoka throws herself to the ground and crawls quickly back toward her cell, The metal door squeaks as she slams it shut behind herself and scrambles even further into the room.

The explosion is sudden and spectacular. She’d been on battlefields with shells hitting the ground from aerial strikes and from cannon armaments. But this? This is like a volcanic eruption. A molten hot wave of air wrecks everything around her. The metal door is blown off its hinges.

It takes her time to right herself. The air is thin from the explosion eating up all the available oxygen and she’s grateful to the skylight she’d seen earlier, it’s likely been blown clean off and letting the atmosphere rush back into the space where it’d all been eaten up.

Her dress, formerly wide and flouncy and crimson red had been singed in a strange way making the outermost layer melt in on it’s self and shrink. And the color had been streaked with black at the knees from touching the floor.

In fact, all surfaces have been thoroughly singed. Black carbon scaring mar the stone around her. The dead bodies she’d left behind have been blown apart and burned black. Even the ground is too hot to touch. So Ahsoka scurries over to where she can see a pair of boots, whose feet are still laced in them.

She can hunt bare foot just fine but the ground would singer her feet if she tried, so she resigns herself quickly to the borrowed boots.

When she walks back through the doorway, what’s left of the atrium and the surrounding hallways is just a crater. There’s nothing left here that could even resemble a weapon. It’s the sight of the fallen walls and the exposed rock that finally reveals to her that she’d been underground this whole time.

She continues through the wreckage into what appears to be another hallway, long this time with proper metal prison cells lining the walls. From one cell ahead a black sun operative jumps out with his blaster drawn on her. Ahsoka reacts quickly grabbing his arm aiming it to the side and punching him squarely in the nose. As his head reels back she realizes how young he is. 15 maybe 16. He drops his blaster out of surprise and pain. She takes pity on the kid and slams him into the cell door jarring him terribly. She swipes the knife from his belt and throws him in, slamming the bars shut.

Acquiring another blaster was somewhat advantageous even if this pathetic little pistol had such low plasma power. And not a moment too soon as another armed thug rushed into the hallway. Unfortunately, he also looked very young.

That bleeding jedi heart would get her killed one of these days.

She grabbed the barrel of her own blaster with her non-dominant hand and used the other to grab him by the firing arm. She turned her body yanking him into her back and slammed her elbow into his face. When he dropped his blaster she reared her arm back and slammed the butt of her blaster into his head. Then she rolled him into the cell beside the other, who was hissing and spitting at her.

She was looking for the exit now. Ready to get the hell out of this fuckin pit.

She rushed out into the next room and found it was a hoard. Crates were piled in the center with various valuable-looking goods stacked atop them. Ahsoka thought she saw some vibroblades and even some fancy rifles. What caught her attention in the worst way was the wookie pelt. Laid out like an akul pelt. Sadness rose in her as she stepped closer.

Laying across the spread pelt was something else. It was long and made of Wroshyr wood from Kasyyyk. She could tell by the color and the pattern of the grain. On both ends it was capped with a long metal casing that ended it a spike at one end and a flattened spearhead at the other. She’d never heard of wookies using spears before. The closest thing she knew of was a war staff.

Maybe this was from some small tribe with obscure traditions. Or maybe this individual simply didn’t live by the traditional ways of his people.

Either way, Ahsoka was grateful to come across such a weapon. Though different from her separated twin blades, there was still a lot of familiarity between the techniques used to wield them.

And there’s something more than that. On her home planet, any good hunter's weapon of choice was a spear. Sure they had arrows and hunting blasters and the like, but a spear was the most versatile and ideal weapon for hunting in the grasslands. Ahsoka herself had trained with one briefly before the war started. But she hadn’t been home in some time.

Still, it felt right to find a weapon so like that of her people waiting for her in a place like this, when she was most in need of one.

She hefts the weapon up, it’s nearly as tall as she is well-worn wood grain as soft as leather against her palms. The metal cappings are in gold and they shine in the dim lighting as if polished to a mirror shine.

The girth is almost too thick for her hands. Certainly wider than her saber hilts had been. But on rare occasions, she had been forced to train with Anakin’s saber, and the thickness of that hilt coupled with the wide metal grips had nearly torn her palms to shreds. There were calluses there now that held onto the wood well.

She spins the spear slowly between her hands, getting a feel for the weight of it. At least the weapon is balanced, despite the different metal ends the weight is distributed evenly and it twirls with little resistance between her palms.

She can hear shouting ahead, whatever is left of the blacksuns that hadn’t been stationed near her cell and thus dispatched by her explosion are starting to rally themselves. She can hear them opening an armory of sorts, the metallic sounds of blasters being loaded are familiar enough that she could recognize it without the context of the moment.

So Ahsoka spins the spear until half of it is tucked under one arm and sticking out behind her. She marches resolutely through the last two dim storage rooms until she swings a door open and finds herself in a large open room.

Across from her is a group of various sentients. Black sun tattoos are the only similarity between them. Well, that and the look they give her as they raise their blasters.

There are six that she can see in front of her. Although just to the left of the group there's an open door that must be the armory. Who knows how many more are inside.

As they take aim, she takes a defensive stance, turning mostly to the side so less of her body is easy to target even as lowers her center and braces the spear against her chest.

The first two blasts are easily absorbed by the spear, so easily that it prompts her enemies to advance faster than she anticipated. She turns on the balls of her feet and swings the spear decisively the end tipped with a blade slices through a man's throat blood spraying in an arc as she continues the moment of her turn and jabs the spiked end into another’s chest.

Now this is the smooth rhythm of a fight that she’d missed.

All of this fighting with blasters and explosives has been grating on her. The fluid swing of a blade is what she’d always been meant for.

Pulling her spear free of his chest she whips the spear around again in a quick upward arc slicing his belly open. Her second opponent falls clutching his gaping abdomen.

She must dodge blaster shots again as the other four fan out trying to surround her but she is faster and more experienced than them. Ahsoka dodges quickly to the left and pins one woman’s foot to the floor as she tries to back away; then slams her elbow into her face. Releasing her foot causes the woman to crumble to the floor and a well-placed stab of the spike ends her life.

The others are approaching together now, trying to hem her in. Ahsoka responds with a wide sweep of the blade grazing all of them. Choosing one target she flicks the blade over their extremities slicing them shallowly. They stumble in retreat aiming their blaster at her chest.

She dodges and two blasts are exchanged the opponent in front of her and the one who’d been aiming behind her fall to each other's blasts.

One remains and as comfortable with the killing as Ahsoka has become in the war, she’s never relished it. She slices the old man’s throat open with a viscous jab of the blade letting her spear point fall with the body and aim itself at his chest. Two wounds in less minutes and he is dead.

It’s an unfortunate fate but Ahsoka cannot afford to mourn the deaths of men intent on killing her, not in a galaxy this cold. So she turns her eyes and her mind away from the deed as soon as it’s finished.

There are no more enemies cowering in the weapons store.

She wanders through the door at the far end of the room and finds a set of steep stairs. The walls are softer with soil rather than stone. She must be reaching the surface now. Up the stairs is a dank room with a single folding chair and a buzzing light affixed to the ceiling. It smells like a cellar but the way the light shines through the cracks in the walls makes her think it’s probably more like a shed. She’s on the surface now, finally. There’s one wooden door between her and freedom and Ahsoka doesn’t hesitate to brace her hand against it and push it open.

On the other side is nothing that she expected to see.

A black visor tilts back suddenly in surprise at coming face to face with her. Standing close enough to not allow her to step out of the door is a clone, but not just any clone, because even with the pale green moonlight Ahsoka can identify his armor with no thought at all

“Ahsoka?” he demands as if she shouldn’t be here.

“Uh, yeah, Cody what are you doing?” She asks bewildered.

“We-” Cody cuts off, incredulity coloring his entire countenance, “We were going to rescue you.” By the end of his statement Cody sounds resigned in that way he usually does when he finds himself forced to cooperate with one of Anakin’s inane plans. Baffled yet resigned.

All around her troopers in yellow armor move from their positions surrounding the dingy little surface building and gather with her and their Commander. The bemusement in their demeanor brought an unexpected note of joy to her chest. Her hand follows it resting lightly over her heart and a grin stretches across her face.

“Awe. Me? Cody, you were gonna rescue me?”

“Yes.” Cody sighs hand rubbing uselessly against the brow of his helmet. “We had to fight with the council and the navy board to get the clearance too,” his tone had migrated into irritation now.

“Well I can go back inside, you can still do it.”

“Get to the ship Tano,” He bites out.

Cody steps back to allow her through. She gathers the tatters of her fluffy red skirt in one fist and hefts her bloody spear in the other. Cody gives her a once over noting all the singe marks and slashes; bruises hiding under soot streaks. “Did you blow your way out?”

Ahsoka casts him a puzzled look. “Didn’t you see the crater on your way in?”

[jammatown919]

At Last

This is another thing that's been sitting in my drafts basically done for a few months now. Was talking to my friend about how it would be cool if the Spirit World was a legit afterlife and it would be interesting but really sad if the Avatars were kept separate, then I wrote this at 2am and promptly forgot about it.

-----

By now, Kyoshi had been away from Rangi longer than she'd been with her. She'd been here longer than she'd been alive, actually.

Where here was, she didn't exactly know. Some space only accessible to the ghosts of Avatars long past and, on occasion, the current Avatar, who seldom graced them with her full presence. Instead, they watched her life play out like a performance, chiming in where they could, but often serving as little more than her captive audience. How lucky they were. 

It wasn't the current Avatar's fault. Kyoshi actually quite liked the fierce young Korra, for all that she could like someone she'd spoken to once and only once. Korra was mostly Aang's in the way Kyoshi had been mostly Kuruk's, but they were all shackled to her and would be until the end of her life, at which point she would join them as prisoners of her successor. 

It was a miserable fate, one Kyoshi had no idea she'd be subjected to until it happened. Some Avatars carried the burden with grace, as they had in life, but Kyoshi's Avatarhood had been anything but graceful. Why should her afterlife be any different? She hated it here, and she wasn't afraid to let it be known. 

All the Avatars knew how she felt, and still would even if she hadn't screamed it for years upon her first arrival. They could feel each other in some strange way, like they were all part of the same organism that some of them, namely her, would love nothing more than to break away from. 

No one spoke much. Yangchen and Kuruk had entertained her when she was new, as she'd done for Roku when he was new, but when stuck together until the end of time, people tended to run out of things to say. 

So Kyoshi did nothing at all. She simply drifted, lost in memories, wishing and wishing that she could leave, or that her loved ones could join her, or that anything of meaning would happen to her. 

She got her wish seventeen short years into the Era of Korra. The cycle broke and started anew, leaving everyone but the poor soul who hadn't yet joined them behind it. At long last, they were free. 

They were still together when they reappeared, torn from what had been their home for so long and tossed into the real Spirit World, but there was no need to stay that way. Some left immediately, off to find loved ones or just see something new for once, but others stuck around to say goodbye. 

Kyoshi nodded to Roku. Shook Kuruk's hand. Gave Yangchen a hug. 

Then she was running, faster than she ever had in life, toward something she hadn't felt in centuries. It was her own dear heart, beating somewhere far away, still waiting after all this time. Kyoshi couldn't wait to see her again. 

However, it was not Rangi that made her stop. Instead, it was a trio of spirits; a winged snake resting atop a living rock, beside what appeared to be a cloud of sand and pebbles. She recognized them all instantly, and they recognized her. They had become something new, but they had not forgotten what they had once been. 

Her parents, she had no interest in. Perhaps one day - there was all the time in the world, after all - but not today. But Lek... she couldn't just pass him by. 

"Hello, brother," she murmured. The other two seemed to realize she was not here for them and backed away, leaving her room to approach the boy she'd hardly known and yet managed to love and miss so fiercely. 

He changed as she drew nearer, becoming the scrappy young Earthbender he'd been when they were still alive. 

"It's been a while, sister," he replied. He stepped forward and embraced her. 

"I've missed you." She was too tall to even rest her chin atop his head, so she just squeezed him tight. "The others...?"

"Kirima and Wong are always nearby," he said. "Topknot hangs around sometimes. She's not here now, though."

Kyoshi snorted upon hearing Rangi's old nickname. She'd almost forgotten it entirely. She wondered how many things had slipped her mind over the years. 

"I have to go to her," Kyoshi said. "I'll come back to see you again, but I have to go to her now."

"We all understand," Lek promised, and released her. "When you come back, will you talk to them?"

He didn't look at them, but Kyoshi knew he meant her mother and father. 

"I'll think about it," was the best she could give him. He must have matured greatly after being here so long, because he didn't press her. Instead, he smiled and let her move on. 

Beyond him and her parents was a spacious forest, full of other spirits she knew were not the ghosts of humans, except for one. He stood out to her, and she stopped for him, a beautiful white bird that radiated fatherly love. Her true father. Kelsang. 

It hurt so much to see him again, but it was a good pain. He flew to her, changing as he did, and that beloved old face brought tears to her eyes. 

"I'm sorry," they both said at once, yet neither believed there was anything for them to forgive. They embraced fiercely, and a softly spoken "I love you," was their compromise. 

They stood there, together again, for so long that Kyoshi thought Rangi might come crashing impatiently through the forest. It would've been nice, honestly. The thought reminded her of old times. 

"Kuruk is free, too," Kyoshi mumbled into his shoulder, almost as an afterthought. 

"I'll see him soon," Kelsang replied. "For now, you're looking for someone more important. Let me guide you." 

Then, he was the bird again, winging away across a sky far brighter than that of the world from which they'd come. Kyoshi followed him, dazzled by the light in his form. She followed blindly, trusting, and he did not fail her. 

They came to a flowering field beyond a sparkling river, where two bright red felines lay side by side. The creatures were quite literally identical, but Kyoshi could tell them apart easily. One was her mother-in-law, and the other was her very soul. 

They rose together, their bronze eyes wide and waiting. Hei-Ran did not move or change as Kelsang landed beside her, a neighbor checking up on things. 

Rangi was her old self in an instant, sprinting across the field to hurl herself into Kyoshi's waiting arms for the first time in centuries. 

Her glowing girl's weight had been no great burden to her in life, and here they both felt weightless, but Kyoshi collapsed to her knees anyway, holding her beloved wife close with every selfish intention of keeping her there for all of eternity. Rangi didn't seem to mind one bit. 

"How?" she asked through the most beautiful tears Kyoshi had ever seen. "I thought... the Avatars-"

"We're free," Kyoshi replied with a sob. "There's a new cycle and no need for us anymore. I can be with you again." 

Rangi wept freely into Kyoshi's chest. 

"I looked for you," she said. "I looked for you for years, even though every spirit I met told me the Avatars were somewhere else. I never accepted that I couldn't see you again."

"I'm here now." Free of the rules of etiquette, Kyoshi pressed a long overdue kiss to Rangi's scalp. "I'll be here forever."

-----

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[lamaenthel]

Bite Down On This

[read on ao3] [Febuwhump prompt: "Bite Down On This"]

Bly has to do the unthinkable to his General to save her life after a mortar strike wipes out their company.

Characters: CC-5052|Bly, Aayla Secura, Quinlan Vos Wordcount: 868

" …hear me? Bly? Bly, are you alive?"

Bly blinks, takes a deep breath, and almost passes out again. He's face-down in a pile of… something. Something that smells like copper, fire, and human shit. He pushes himself up, his head spinning, and vomits on top of the bisected abdomen of the clone trooper he landed on.

"Get up!" He's yanked sideways, dragged on his back away from the body. Bodies. They're everywhere, he can see that now. "Get it together trooper, I need you."

"Yes, General," Bly tries to say; it comes out more of a blurry, slurred yrrrs gurnnnll.

"Hold on, Blue. We're coming. I got him. See? You were worried for nothing." General Vos tugs him up and forces him to walk on nerveless legs.

"Bly?" His stomach flips at how weak she sounds. "Oh, Bly, I—ah!" She breaks off with a shriek of agony. His stomach flips again.

"We're here. We're here, Blue." General Vos lets go of Bly's cuirass and drops down beside her. "I'm so sorry, honey. This is going to hurt. Bite down on this and take a deep breath, okay?"

Bly focuses on not falling down. His brain is unscrambling, reassembling his memories like scattered puzzle pieces. Aayla was leading their small scouting company from the front, trying to keep up with her old Master's massive stride. Bly was bringing up the rear, avoiding Vos and the looks he kept throwing over his shoulder. There was a whistle over their heads, then…

Mortar! Spread out!

He was at the rear. She was at the front. He was thrown back. She…

"It's okay, Blue. I know, I'm sorry it hurts. I've got you." Vos tightens the tourniquet around her ruined leg, right above what used to be her knee. 

They had some sausages once on Dantooine, made from roba hogs by the locals. They were so grateful for the Republic's arrival. They donated crates upon crates of fresh meat, vegetables, and fragrant blue rice. They'd never eaten so well. Aayla helped them all find sticks to cook the sausages on over the bonfire—her skin glows like midnight in the firelight—and laughed like a bell when he burned his mouth. 

Bard had overcooked his sausage. The end had burst open and split apart in strips, just like Aayla's leg.

"Get down here, Commander." General Vos adjusts them so that Aayla is cradled in his lap, his tree-trunk legs sticking straight out. He puts a hand on her forehead and whispers something Bly can't hear. Her head falls to the side, lekku drooping limp and lifeless. "Take my lightsaber and cut above the tourniquet," Vos orders, tossing it to the dirt in front of him. 

Bly's legs give out. He falls hard onto his shebs, head spinning. "What?"

"You heard me, Commander." Aayla stirs to life in his arms. Vos scowls and closes his eyes. "Sleep," he orders her, loud enough for Bly to hear this time.

There's two sabers laying in the dirt in front of him. Bly unsteadily reaches for the one on the right, grabs a handful of dirt instead. 

"Now!" Vos growls at him. "Sleep." His voice turns gentle when it's directed at her. He's like a father to me. "Good girl. It'll be over soon."

Aayla is dripping sweat and drooling around the leather strap her Master shoved in her mouth. Her head tosses from side to side, struggling to stay awake. Her lekku come to life only to curl up in tight, distressed spirals.

"I…" Bly swallows down a second surge of vomit. They need a medic. Where's their medic? He suddenly remembers the paintjob of the trooper he woke up on.

"Do it!" The Kiffar General—both of them—shoots him a glare that could melt beskar. "I can't keep her unaware much longer, Commander, she's fighting too hard. Do it before she wakes up!"

"Wake up, Commander," she whispers, her lek curling lovingly around his wrist. She trails a graceful finger down his nose, tickles his lips, chases the touch with a delicate kiss. 

"Do it, now!"

Bly pushes the button, goes blind from the green light. He blinks away the spots, stares down at his Aayla's beautiful leg—she hooks it over his hip, uses it to pull him closer as she cries out his name—and stops. "I can't," he says hoarsely. "I can't hurt a Jedi." My Jedi.

"You want her to be awake and screaming while you cut her leg off?" Vos' fury is incandescent, burning like a corona. "Do it, you useless son of a bitch!"

Bly's double vision isn't helped by his tears. "I can't."

"If you don't I will fucking gut you." Vos means it, but he still can't bring himself to bring down the beam. "Do it now, or so help me—"

"Bly," Aayla whimpers around the strap. Her big, beautiful brown eyes flicker open.

"SLEEP." Vos mouths the command directly against her ear cone. Her eyes close, her head falls limply to the side. Vos' eyes meet Bly's, and his vision is finally steady enough to see that the Kiffar is crying. "Do it. Do it while she's asleep, I'm begging you." 

Bly swallows hard, nods, and brings down the blade.

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @febuwhump, @soliloquy-of-nemo Divider: @saradika-graphics

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Headcanon Court: Kyoshi is a (not so) Mini-Yangchen

(aka "Kyoshi is a shiny Yangchen")

Hear ye hear ye! Headcanon court is now in session~!

I've come to you all to present my case, that Kyoshi......looks like a Tall, dark, freckled Yangchen.....and maybe might be related to her on top of that. 030

"Silly, you've been talking about this idea for awhile-" And I'm going to keep talking about it~! Because this lil' brain worm won't worm away TT0TT

No spoilers for Yangchen's novels (the hoops I had to jump through to keep it vague enough....man TT0TT), but obvie spoilers about Kyoshi's.

Maybe it's a crackpot theory/headcanon! But it's MY crackpot theory/headcanon and I bid you all to hear me out with what (little and circumstantial) evidence I have! <(˘ ˘ ˘)>

First off, they both are described as pretty. c(◕ヮ◕n ) (THIS IS IMPORTANT I SWEAR! It's not simp behavior I swear!)

While Kyoshi seems to have a poor idea of herself, she is called pretty/beautiful by multiple people, including: A drunken sailor, Jianzhu, Rangi, and Yun.

Yangchen is called pretty by Kavik (DoY), and by extension Kyoshi.

....ON A COMPLETELY UNRELATED NOTE (it's not) Kyoshi's mom/Jesa has been called pretty and beautiful by Kyoshi and the same drunken sailor.

*cough* On the note of Jesa. Let's talk about how similar she is with her daughter. 030

Apparently, Kyoshi and Jesa look A LOT alike. To the point they could be sisters (possibly because Kyoshi is darker skinned and maybe has different hair/eye color to her mom.....maybe)

We know they both have the same freckles.

Now why didn't the FoC see the resemblance with Kyoshi? Tbh, besides Lao Ge, they were under the impression that Jesa/Hark didn't have any kids so they might've waved the similarities away.

Lao Ge probs saw the resemblance and just....waited for a dramatic reveal (he's quirky like that, plus he's the only one who worked with them before Kyoshi was born, the other three joined after Jesa dropped Kyo off). Of course, there is the line in SoK where "People could resemble each other. No one’s face was as unique as they thought it was." Which SHOULD throw a wrench into my theory/headcanon but boo to that! Sometimes there IS a resemblance for a reason, like Kyoshi/Jesa or Rangi/Hei-Ran (or Zoryu/Chaeryu)...it's because they ARE related! TT0TT. But that same line could explain why Kirima/Lek/Wong didn't clock Kyoshi at first.

"Ok Silly, now when are you going to bring Yangchen back up?" I'm getting there I'm getting there~! Now that we've established that Kyoshi and Jesa both look VERY similar, you know. Family resemblance an all~! ;D

Let's talk about the time Kyoshi mistook Yangchen FOR her mother/Jesa! :D

Man, Yangchen must REALLY look like Jesa for Kyoshi to be freaking out like this. Like she didn't even register the lack of freckles that's how similar they looked!

Like, they REALLY drive home how similar Jesa and Yangchen look. Like REALLY REALLY drive it home. The only other person they drive it home as hard as this is Hei-Ran/Rangi, and it's because they are mother/daughter. After that it's Jesa/Kyoshi for the SAME reason. (and then after that it's pros Zoryu/Chaeryu because they are brothers).

AND THUS!

Because: Kyoshi looks like Jesa. And Jesa looks like Yangchen. This means, Kyoshi looks like Yangchen! (shiny variant because diff skin tone+freckles, Kyoshi's eye color seem to change with the wind jfdsaklfj sometimes it's a very grey-green, and in LoK it's more akin to Air Nomad grey)

Now for a sloppy/quick edits to drive the point home:

(I didn't edit Kyo's eyes for the last one, like I said, her eye color changes with the wind....tho tbh this eye color matches her statue from Book 1)

"Ok ok, you think they look alike! What's this about being related?"

I know I made a joke that it'd be funnier if Kyoshi was more closely related to Aang, just to make him sweat a little (could've sworn I made a different joke about it being funnier if Kyo was more closely related to Aang than Yangchen but I can't find it jklfjaslkf). But realistically, after all of this, I can see her being more closely related to Yangchen. And I think it fits better narratively for both characters.

Throughout her Novels, Kyoshi's had to deal with the pains of family, her own blood family. How she'd been wronged and left abandoned. And if it wasn't dealing with the sins/shadow of her family, she had to deal with the sins/shadow of Kuruk.

It's a complex that was burrowed deep within her. Unsure how to understand familial ties.

The theme of family follows Kyoshi, even if she's not actively thinking about it. From her own issues with her own blood parents in RoK, to the clusterfuck that is the Fire Nation in SoK (that can probs be best summed up by Nyahitha here):

Family is a big theme in Kyoshi's novels. Found family and/or Blood family. Just...family. Yangchen's novels also has a theme of family, specifically relating to Yangchen and Kavik's siblings and their dynamics (tbh Yee really likes family themes, because it's something that also comes up in his Genie Lo novels. Specifically about her parents in Epic Crush and her "sisterhood" with Yunie and Gyuan Yin in Iron Will). Key thing is the sibling part, esp with Yangchen involving sisterhood.

With Kyoshi it feels like a complex and one that needs resolution. And Yangchen is, ironically enough, the one that gives it to her at the end of SoK. (which also is a great thing/end cap for Yangchen's arc but that goes into spoiler territory so we'll leave it at "trust me bro, if you know you know ;D").

Yangchen comforting Kyoshi comes full circle for both their arcs (tho Yangchen's is retroactively made, cause her novels came later). And if Yangchen was actually related to Kyoshi, it would just drive the point home even farther imo.

Because, how fucking tragic and juicy would it be for the Avatar that Kyoshi looked up to.... The one she used as a template to become a better Avatar. Wasn't only not perfect like she thought she was, but was also her own flesh and blood? Esp after all the betrayal and drama her own blood had caused her up to that point.

Kyoshi still hasn't processed that Yangchen is the real reason her world is miserable and fucked. Yes it was because of Kuruk's neglect and death, but if he didn't neglect some of his duties then the world would've been MORE fucked. Yes Szeto made it harder on Yangchen. But it was Yangchen's own actions and thoughts and desires that led her to siding with humans over spirits. She had to clean up Szeto's mess with the humans, but Szeto didn't tell her how to handle the spirits.

Yangchen's actions DIRECTLY hurt Kuruk and Kyoshi (this isn't to blame Yangchen, love the lady, every Avatar makes mistakes, we love them. But even Yangchen fully takes responsibility for that).

And like I said earlier, if Yangchen was also her own flesh and blood and not just a previous reincarnation, it's an added blow. Kyoshi was once again hurt by her own family.

Echoing back to that passage in RoK....except here, Kyoshi can make that amend. She can forgive Yangchen (there's no forgiveness resolution per se in the book, Kyoshi is more preoccupied with the fact she still feels a bit lost than she is blaming Yangchen for her woes but that's like a HUGE step for Kyo :'D).

But seeking closure with Yangchen would also heal the burden she's had from Jesa. Heal the scars left by her parents and her losing Kelsang. Even more directly than just another "Air Nomad" hugging her.

Plus, I just think it'd be cool if Yangchen was her great-aunt or great-great-Aunt and everyone was freaking out over it jkfljdsa;lfj (below is roughly what the family tree would look like, not sure how old Yangchen's mom was so I put Yangchen in two spots because it could go either way depending on the ages):

"That means Yangchen had an actual sibling" yeah but she didn't know about it, duuuuuuuuh. She only saw Jetsun as her sibling and she was realistically probably her cousin like 5 times removed. :'D "But if Jetsun/Yangchen might be related, could that mean it's actually Jetsun and Yangchen's shared lineage they could be descended from? Not just Yangchen?" Yeah that could work too. But I think it's more fun to call Yangchen Auntie so (great-)great-Aunt it is for me! 8U

Anyway.

Tldr: Kyoshi looks like her mom Jesa. Jesa looks like Yangchen. Thus Yangchen and Kyoshi look like each other. Maybe they are actually related by blood and that would be cool because it would heal Kyoshi generational trauma or something something family themes in the book~!

Court adjourned! :'D

[arctrooper69]

The Hands of Father Time

50 years is a long time. Kix searches for peace and closure.

A/N: Poor Kix. I don't know why I do this to him. He doesn't deserve it. I'm so sorry. I swear I'll write a happy one next time.

Warnings: PostStasis!Kix. Angst. Sad memories.

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There's an old woman here who sits by the forest. She usually keeps to herself - silent as she meditates. If you take the time to listen, she'll tell you her story - how she fought beside some of the bravest men she's ever met. She smiles when she tells you about them, but it's always bittersweet. When one war ended, she bravely fought another when all she wanted to do was lie down and die. There's a longing in her eyes, gazing ahead at someone no one else can see. At dusk, she returns home only to come back at sunrise to sit once more in meditation.

She has nightmares sometimes. I've heard her crying in her sleep. It's always names. Jesse. Kix. Hardcase. I'm not sure who they are but I can tell she loves them. Or loved them. They're all dead now, I think. She misses them. Sometimes, when she thinks she's alone, I hear her whisper to them. She apologizes; begs for their forgiveness.

She's hurting inside. Even when she's awake, she still sees ghosts. They follow her around and steal her breath away when she dwells there too long. She watches them die again and again when she closes her eyes. That's why she's so angry. She's so sad and so scared, and so alone. Through the Force she tries hard to find peace, but it doesn't come. Go to her. Find her and she will find peace.

**********************************************

50 years is a long time. Kix sits in the back of a bar on a planet he's never been to before, holding the letter that he's read again and again.

But some things never change. Lights dance over the walls while rowdy patrons move to the music with a beat that Kix can feel in his bones.

"You seem lonely." A blue skinned Twi-lek saunters up to him, running her fingers lightly down his arm. "I can help with that." She winks at him, leaning so close that he can smell her perfume. Her outfit clings to every curve, accentuating every asset. Kix lets his eyes linger only for a moment before he shakes his head, politely dismissing her. She huffs and stalks away. "Your loss, handsome."

Kix leans back into his booth, closing his eyes. If he stayed here too long, he'd see Fives over at the bar, chatting up a pretty girl. He'd see Echo sitting not far behind, egging his brother on with a grin, all the while keeping an ever vigilant eye on his back. Blinking through the haze, Kix's eyes imagine Jesse challenging him to a game of whatever he and Hardcase decided to play that night. If he closes his eyes, he can almost hear their voices.

This is too much. The noise. The lights. The thumping base that rattles his bones. The memories. But they're all long dead. You're too late.

Though he hasn't had a drink, Kix stumbles outside into the alleyway gasping for breath. He slides down the wall as his legs give way. The tears come heavy and hot. His breaths come faster and faster until his face goes numb, lungs aching for reprieve.

**********************************************

Fifty years is a long time. Kix slowly steps from his speeder. He'd been longing for answers but now he's afraid of what he might find.

A woman sits on a bench overlooking a neverending forest. Her silver hair blows gentle and free with every airy breeze. She knows that he's here simply by the beating of his heart and by the longing in his soul. Fifty years is a long time.

"I've missed you, Kix." Her voice is deeper than he remembers. He can't respond; his body won't let him. "I've missed you so much."

Yes, it was still her voice. Older, matured with age and wiser by experience, but still her voice. Even after a hundred years Kix would know that voice.

"I..." The tears came again, catching him by surprise. He sat down beside her, gently grasping her hands - now spotted and fragile with age. He held her close to his side. "I'm here now, Mesh'la. I'm here."

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@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

[starqueensthings]

The Only Exception:

Foreword, Basics, and References

Basics: 3rd POV, primarily following the main character (OC) with occasional shifts to other perspectives (separated by chapter). 

Pairing: Captain Howzer x fem!OC; then Jesse x fem!OC; then maybe something else… maybe something of the same… TEEHEE

Characters: more clone OC’s than I can count, tons of human OC’s, Twi-lek OC’s, many of our favourite TCW characters like Fives, Echo, Jesse, Kix, and Rex playing large parts of the story. Tup, Hardcase, Dogma, Cody, Keeli, and others also make appearances. 

Rating: will shift chapter by chapter between 16+ for mature themes, and 18+ for explicit themes. 

Posting Schedule: will not be consistent. The undulation of ADHD means there are days to weeks where my brain can’t translate a single sentence from thought to written word, so I’m hesitant to commit to a structured, weekly schedule but will do my best.

Things that probably don’t need to be noted, but because I’m both anxious and uncontrollably long-winded, I feel the need to explain: 

This work was written novel style, and not necessarily the traditional 2nd POV, x reader fanfiction style that we all know and love. These characters have names, histories, appearances that are both eluded to and mildly described, as well as personality traits that may not be desirable to some. For example: the main character, June, harbors some resentment toward men because of some lingering trauma from her past, and unfortunately lets it influence many of her decisions. There are times, particularly in the beginning of the story, where she can be highly sensitive to what some would consider harmless, off-the-cuff remarks, and becomes combative and irrational as a result. Her reactions are particularly placed to emphasize aspects of her character, so that we can witness her growth and/or regressions throughout the story. 

In that same token, this story will hover around + touch on some uncomfortable  topics, particularly toward the end. Whump/angst/hurt+comfort/fluff/smut will all be present themes, and I WILL be tagging each chapter very clearly and very thoroughly. SA and parental trauma will be eluded to throughout the entirety of the story and recollected/explained toward the end. Additionally, smut scenes will be segregated into their own chapters and will be written as not to affect the flow of the story, so if you choose to skip those, you don’t miss out on anything plot wise. All of that being said, this is largely a light hearted story about growth and unexpected love as it presents itself in several forms. 

Additionally (and very importantly) June is highly intelligent and medically proficient. I am neither of those things. Not even close. I tried to research as much medical terminology as possible prior to/during writing, but probably 75% of it will make no sense to someone who’s very familiar with medical things/conditions/procedures. Lastly, I tried to keep this story as canon compliant as possible, but the Clone Wars timeline is challenging to navigate. Creative liberty was taken in some spots where canon is murky, but otherwise I tried to remain as true to the Star Wars events as we know them. Language will fluctuate mildly between in-universe and modern day. I kept it as Star Wars as possible, but absolutely refuse to use “transparisteel” in place of glass, “flimsi” makes me cringe, and will always prefer shower over “sonic” lol 

Common Star Wars words are below:

Holo Computer: Desktop Computer

Holopad: kinda like a cellphone

Datapad: kinda like an iPad/tablet

Durasteel: metal

Duraplas: plastic

Massiff: a dog-ish creature that kinda looks like an alligator lol

“Kriff”: “Fuck” or “Shit” (a swear word, not the noun of a fuck or a shit lol)

“Kriffing”: “Fucking” (adjective, not the action of fucking)

Chrono: watch/clock

Hoverbed: like a gurney or hospital bed that floats 

Air Speeder: floating car with side-by-side seats

Speeder bike: floating motorcycle

Fresher: washroom/bathroom/loo

Di’kut: Idiot

Mesh’la: beautiful (noun)

Cyare: darling (noun)

Caf: coffee

“Maker” or “Gods” or “Stars”: “God” or “Lord” (frustrated; not religious lol)

Camtono: a cooler/portable freezer

Flimsi: paper

a bajillion more listed in this fantastic post.

Terms I made up because canon was lacking (list is on-going):

NBA or Nociceptor Blocking Agent: the pain injection we see them jab into peoples necks

USI or Universal Serum Injector: the injection tool itself (serum vial is loaded per dose)

Defibrillator “defib” Pods: small, high tech, portable defibrillator

Cleanser Tube: essentially a washing machine recessed into the hall. Very similar to a front loading washing machine where only the door is visible. 

Sanitation Station: a weird contraption that cleans/disinfects someone’s hands before coating them in nitrile (instead of pulling on surgical gloves). 

“Maker have mercy”: “for the love of God” (frustrated; not religious lol) 

Blue wine: white wine

Purple wine: red wine

Cauterizing Pen/Electromagnetic Stapler: used in the place of stitches

MedScanner: I did not conceptualize the scanner itself, but did make up all the settings and uses lol

“Flimsi Flinger”: “Paper Pusher”

“Double-barrelled Blaster”: a double edged sword

[tealmisthams]

Fivesoka for number 16 of the kiss roulette! 💕

Thanks for the request! I really enjoyed writing this one. 💙

I also posted it on Ao3 here.

—

Prompt 16: A kiss in the rain

“It’s going to rain,” Ahsoka stated matter-of-factly, as she watched the dense, gray clouds engulfing the sky above.

“Nah, the HoloNet said it wouldn’t,” Fives said, even as the sky darkened another shade.

They were lying side by side in a lush, green field that they’d chosen for a picnic and their first official date. After they ate, they’d laid down together on the blanket Ahsoka had brought to watch the sun set and the stars appear.

Instead of a sunset, however, a layer of clouds had materialized, leading to the debate over whether or not it would precipitate on them.

“Fives, the whole sky is covered in dark clouds. What do you think that means?” Ahsoka said, turning her head to glance at the man beside her.

“I’m not saying it couldn’t rain,” Fives protested. “But the HoloNet said it wouldn’t, so there’s no need for us to leave.”

They’d been sprawled on their backs, holding hands, but now he tugged her closer. Letting go of her hand, he looped his arm around her and she settled her head on his chest.

“Maybe we shouldn’t get too comfortable, in case it does rain and we have to get up,” she said, even as she continued to press closer to him.

Her montral brushed Fives’ cheek and he turned his head to speak against it. “You know, you’re sending me mixed signals here, Ahsoka.” His low voice vibrated through her, followed by a tingling sensation that rippled down her spine.

Before she could respond, three raindrops splashed onto her forehead. Two more quickly followed, then four more; increasing in number until a steady drizzle was descending on them.

“I told you it would rain,” Ahsoka stated, a slight smugness tinting her voice.

Instead of responding, Fives slipped out from under her head and rolled on top of her. He placed his forearms on either side of her, bracing himself, so as not to crush her with his greater weight.

“What’re you doing?” Not that she was complaining about having his muscular frame pressed against her body.

“Protecting you from the rain,” he responded, as if it were obvious.

Ahsoka couldn’t help but laugh. “Well first, you’re not doing a very good job,” she pointed out, as rain continued to sprinkle over her montrals. Fives shifted his body forwards, trying to block more of the drizzle. “And second, what makes you think I need protection from rain?”

The precipitation had thickened to almost a downpour and was now seeping into both of their clothes. Ahsoka’s face was still somewhat dry, thanks to Fives covering her, except for the droplets that were now dripping off his dark hair and onto her forehead. She hardly noticed, though.

“Oh, I know you don’t need protection from anything. But this position makes it easier to do this.” He leaned down until their noses brushed and Ahsoka could feel his breath rippling over her skin.

Just as their lips were about to touch, Ahsoka made her move. She wrapped her arms around his torso, pulled him into her, and flipped him over, so she was straddling him.

But Fives didn’t let their reversed position interrupt his plan. He placed a hand behind her rear lek and pulled her down until their lips met in a wet, but deep kiss.

His one hand continued to hold her to him, while the other slid easily down her back, which was now slick from the rain. They remained in that position as they continued to explore each other, oblivious to the intensifying downpour around them, which had now completely soaked into their clothes and skin.

Neither of them knew how much time passed before Ahsoka pulled back, just enough to disconnect their lips.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” she suggested. Normally she would have whispered, but with the rain crashing increasingly harder around them, she nearly had to shout.

“Ready to get out of the rain?” Fives asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For starters.”