#oc clone trooper flood

[elismor]

Recent Fic Omnibus

Come Spread Your Arms (corrie bingo 4: shine) The one where Flood recruits Waxer to the Guard

Smells Like...Victory? (the one with the butt plug) The one with Rex and Fives in the sewer

Two Birds (One Stone) (drabble bingo 5) The one where Echo and Fives break the law

Let Them Eat Cake (drabble bingo 6) The one with the pink trees

Second Skin (drabble bingo 8) The one where Cody shucks his armor

[nuuxta]

We call it team bounding

So.... I just moved in in my appartment with my roomate. We are both huge star wars fans. We have OC, and clones OC.

We just created lore with them all because we have problems with our boiler. I shall add taht we're in there since... what, 3 days ? barely x)

Anyway, let me just present you our new clones OC : MacGyver and Chuck Norris !

They are Corries (because our "jedi" OC are really often with the corries), and... Yeah, our headcannon is that Palpatine gave the corries a really old and shut down buildings, so at first, there are a lot of problem (floods, electric problems, etc...). So every Corrie knows how to handle small problems. But when there are bigger and more complicated problems ? They call Macgyver. They have the theme to call him. And his assistant is Chuck Norris.

Why you would ask ? Well, it's for the times Macgyver would have to get away on an emergency with a bad senator. Chuck Norris would just force the senator to let them go.

Btw : Both of them are Alpha class. Just for the fun.

Oh, and the Corries love both their general (i'm gonna give their names : Alex and Red), 'cause they helped a lot, and still do. Imagine a big flood in the senate building : well nothing is damage because they acted fast ! (and they insulted the chancelor a little bit after that but yeah...)

@weirdest-lights is my roomate btw. this was just discussed x)

[knightprincess]

Magic Medic (Part 1 of 3) - The 501st

Words: 2.2k Requested by: @rexmeshlasblog Note: She/her pronouns and Y/N are used. The second part will also include an OC (Iseult)—it was originally meant to be a one-shot but became a mini-series instead.

The war was brutal, even for the bravest of people, even for the troopers who had been created to fight for the republic tirelessly. Often with no reward or gratitude for the battles won and sacrifices made. There is no time to truly mourn and grieve the loss of their brothers who perished on the many battlefields spread across the wartorn galaxy.

Despite the never-ending stream of battlefields and warzones, some troopers had found something to help them keep fighting even when they wanted nothing more than to live a normal life, to be free and be able to choose what they wanted rather than someone deciding it for them. Rex was one of those lucky few. His reason for fighting outside of loyalty to what he believed in and his brothers and friends was a medic—specifically, the civvi medic assigned to the 501st.

She was beautiful, an angel in the eyes of many. Gentle, kind, and innocent, even with a contagious laugh that could get even the grumpiest men to smile. (Y/N) Devitt was her name. She comes from a small, peaceful island on an outer rim world, so out of the way, it hadn't been touched by the war and was almost as unknown as Kamino.

She would speak of her family on the odd occasion, but only when asked. Her parents had passed on when she was just a little girl, too young to truly remember them, so her uncle had taken her and her three siblings in and raised them as if they were his own. All three of (Y/N)'s siblings had applied for the GAR, too, when the republic announced they were hiring civilians. One of her brothers was a mechanic assigned to the 212th, and the other was a cryptographer stowed away in the military base on Coruscant. Finally, her sister was a medic, and she was often on rotation. She'd be wherever she was needed. As was typical for civvi medics, there weren't enough for each legion to have their own.

"Do you think Rex knows?" asked Jesse, looking to the datapad in hand; on it was the personnel file of the civvi medic identified as CM-1916. As was customary for the files of civvi personnel, there was a picture and a few personal details, such as last name, homeworld, gender, and age, but that was it. "Our angel is set to be transferred to the 104th," added Jesse as he handed the datapad to Fives and Echo.

Kix stood in the corner, still trying to process his feelings. (Y/N) was the most helpful medic they'd had so far. She had been with them twice throughout her rotations; the first time, she'd not been afraid to speak her mind or have a laugh with the boys. This second time, she'd been calmer, less sarcastic, but still brought light to their dark days.

"She never mentioned she worked with the commandoes before," worded Fives, astonishment flooding his voice as curiosity began to take over. (Y/N) wasn't any stranger to telling stories of her time with other legions, and on the occasions she was back on Coruscant. But she never stated she'd been assigned to Foxtrot and the unorthodox Clone Force 99.

"(Y/N)'s too gentle and innocent to be around Gregor," voiced Kix, almost storming over to the trio of Jesse and the Domino Twins, ignoring Hardcase's mischievous-filled chuckle coming from the stack of crates nearby. Almost as if he was privy to something no one else knew of.

"Rex," called Hardcase when the Captain appeared. There was little doubt he'd come looking for them upon noticing they were absent from the barracks again. There were few places to hide on board a Jedi Cruiser, so Rex only had to eliminate each hiding spot or guess from the small number to find them. "Did you know our precious (Y/N) is being reassigned? The 104th."

"Nobody told me," replied Rex, a smirk appearing across his lips in seconds as his eyes lit up ever so slightly. He managed to stifle his chuckle before it rumbled too loudly. More about what he remembered about (Y/N) and the hidden truth the boys in blue, even General Skywalker, had yet to learn. "(Y/N) just told me she will be staying with us for another rotation," announced Rex, watching as the confusion spread from one brother to the next until it circled back around to where it started.

Fives soon looked back at the datapad, intrigue beginning to paint itself across his features. He was curious. Was there a miscommunication somewhere? Or had the personnel file yet to be updated? Echo soon seemed perplexed. How was it MC-1916, their (Y/N) was to be assigned to the 104th and remained with them simultaneously? They all knew she was a talented medic, but even she couldn't be in two places at once.

Echo soon handed Rex the medical personnel file. A deep chuckle escaped him as he shook his head when his golden eyes landed on the screen. However, the captain didn't elaborate or speak of what had tickled him. Instead, he just grinned as he left the cargo hold, leaving the five troopers known for mischief-making confused in his wake.

"I get the feeling he knows something we don't," Jesse said, his golden eyes locked on the door Rex had chuckled through a few seconds earlier.

"You think," replied Echo, so fast it was as if the Arc Trooper had the words resting on the tip of his tongue. Once again, Hardcase laughed, louder this time, but again, he didn't elaborate or shed light on the theory he was sure held truth to it. After all, in a drunken haze the month prior, he was sure he'd seen two of (Y/N) at the bar of 79's letting loose while on shore leave. He never said anything about it nor asked her, instead believing he'd been so drunk his vision and mind were playing tricks on him.

"Hardcase," called Kix, turning his attention to the hyperactive brother, who seemed lost in thought but smirked like he was waiting for chaos to unfold. Bouncing in his seated position as if he vibrated from all the energy coursing through him. "What do you know?" cautiously asked the medic as he tried to decipher if Hardcase knew anything or was ribbing them again.

"Nothing," replied Hardcase, between his chuckles and sniggers. "Just something I think I saw last month and what Comet said a while back," he added innocently as if he was a cadet again on Kamino being punished for purposely winding up the bounty hunter in charge of training.

"Something you think you saw?" repeated Jesse. His interest was piqued, although he was unsure if it was because of Rex's earlier reaction or the mystery that seemed to unfold before them now. "Do tell."

"At 79's before we were deployed to Seleucami," began Hardcase, thinking back to the fun night again. "I was drunk, seen two of (Y/N), both of them were at the bar, one talking to Cody and Howzer, the other appeared to be playing games with the Bad Batch," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck as if to buff away the embarrassment. The two versions had been identical next to each other, yet no one else seemed to notice there were two versions of (Y/N).

"Two (Y/N)'s," spoke Kix, hearing Fives and Echo sniggering between themselves, almost as if they were in disbelief. Jesse was no better, practically stunned into silence—no doubt questioning how they wouldn't have noticed two versions of their angel. "I love her, but I can't handle two. Be like those two but worse," he commented, throwing a limp hand toward Fives and Echo.

"At least we'd know how she feels dealing with us," replied Fives, ignoring the previous comment, even when Echo pretended to be offended by it. "Makes you wonder what the 104th think is going on; Wolffe's not exactly one for mishaps," added the Arc Trooper, recalling Rex saying the battle-worn commander only seemed to like one of the civvi medics to pass through. Sarcastic, loud, and strong-willed, his eye hadn't bothered her, nor had his growls when she dragged him to her medbay.

"I don't think he'll care as long as the civvi medic knows what they're doing," replied Echo, looking up when the door to the cargo hold swooshed open. Rex returned behind (Y/N), now dressed in ordinary civvi clothes. Hyperspace was her off-duty time, or at least that's what they liked to say. (Y/N) however, always said medics didn't have the luxury of being off duty. Someone always needed their help.

"(Y/N)," called Jesse, confusion still written across his lips. "Why didn't you tell us about your ability to be in two places at once?" he asked, hearing (Y/N) sweetly chuckle, her eyes lighting up in amusement.

"I thought you boys already knew I could teleport," replied (Y/N), as another small giggle escaped her. Even more so as she witnessed the small group trying to figure out if she was serious or not. Although she'd admit she found it amusing, they hadn't seen the truth yet, even when all the clues were before them. "My ma was a witch from Dathomir; she taught me a trick or two," she added, her smile brightening just slightly as mischief began to lace through it.

"Neat trick, even if confusing when first seeing it," added Rex, refusing to admit he knew the truth. He was happy to keep it a secret for a little longer, if only to get some overdue payback on the five brothers gathered in the hold. "I don't think General Skywalker or Commander Tano quite wrapped their heads around it yet either," laughed the captain, throwing the two Jedi into the conversation for good measure.

"Do tell," called Kix, his brows sown together as if he suspected something wasn't quite what it seemed. Echo seemed to share his suspicion, although it was unclear if they were on the same trail.

"First date of all times," answered (Y/N), recalling that it had been an accident. Thankfully, Rex understood after it had been explained to him thrice. "Got a little distracted while waiting for Rex to return from the refresher, accidentally teleported to the bar," she explained, another sweet giggle escaping her lips. "Poor Comet, he didn't know what to do."

"Nah, the first time I noticed it was at the base," corrected the great Captain. Recalling the event, even now, it still drew a chuckle out of him, especially when he'd not been the only one to witness the unusual event or be bewildered by it. "You and Fox walked past me, Cody, and Wolffe. We saw you again with Clone Force 99 when we rounded the corner," recalled Rex.

"What …" Jesse called out in utter bewilderment. "How … What … I don't get it … What?"

"So you can teleport and pester more than one of us at a time?" questioned Fives, "Please teach me, please, please, please," he begged, his mischievous glint returning although tainted with confusion. He'd never met a civvi who could teleport, let alone cause so much chaos by helping people.

"What do you need to teleport for? You got Echo," called Hardcase, laughing at himself when he fell off the crates he'd previously been perched on. "You two switch so much; it's a game called Guess the Domino."

"Should we tell them?" asked (Y/N), looking down at the personnel file on the datapad. Her smile only seemed to widen when she did. Even more so when she knew all the clues to the truth were in front of the troopers, especially if they looked close enough.

"Nope," simply replied Rex.

"Tell us what?" called Kix, curious now more than ever. "Rex, (Y/N), tell us what?"

"I still owe you a caf date, right?" asked Rex, recalling when he had to take a rain check. He'd skipped the date to ensure General Skywalker's secret stayed as such.

"Yup," voiced (Y/N), popping the p. While taking the hint to draw out the torment of the collection of boys in blue.

"Rex corrupted our angel," Echo said playfully, accusing their captain. "Wait, don't medics outrank everyone?'

"You boys are smart; you'll work it out," called Rex as he led (Y/N) back through the door. He intended to take her to the mess hall for the caf, if only so the pair could laugh about it a little bit more. "Eventually."

"Game on," voiced Fives, accepting the challenge to figure out the truth. "I'll wager we'll have it figured by the time we get back to Coruscant," he called, acting far more confident than he felt. How were they going to figure out what was going on? What Rex and (Y/N) were hiding from them.

"You're not gonna let them live this down, are you?" asked (Y/N) as the two walked toward the lift.

"Nope," replied Rex with a mischievous grin of his own now. "Although I have a few ideas on how to prolong it," he added. "It involves Iseult," he whispered when close enough to ensure no one else heard the whispered name or learned about the secret weapon of mischief.

Part 2 - Part 3

Knight Princess Masterlist

[skellymom]

"Vagabonds" Chapter 22

"THE TEMPEST"

Ongoing fanfic Hunter x Reader/Fem Reader/OC

Hunter meets a smuggler Nomaadi Star Woman with a powerful force sensitive teen who changes the trajectory of CF-99's lives...as they ALL try to escape from The Empire together.

To read Chapter 21 - "AMARANTHINE"

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/762676548240277504/vagabonds-chapter-21?source=share

Word Count: 1.6 K

Background: What is Mad's fate? Can Hunter, Tech, LOVE, Tiggy, and newcomer Jeb escape the CX Trooper? Has LOVE's Force Powers gone too far???

MORE ACTION IN THIS CHAPTER!

For anyone new to this series: "LOVE" is the nonbinary/genderfluid neurodivergent/nonverbal Force sensitive kid of the main OC of this series named Mad. Mad is an older single mother, close to almost 50 years of age (not many older female protaganists in stories, so I decided to make one.)

Warning: SW Canon violence, blood, dog mauling human (defensive move for the doggo), swearing, angst, tragedy. Disclaimer: I wrote this chapter WELL BEFORE the mudslides and flooding in the south occurred. Hopefully this plot device is not offensive.

(Credit: Cool dividers by @4ngelic-Wh1spers, @plum98 @strangergraphics-archive Pinterest: You're Stuck With Me Skyguy, Mandry Club, )

Read to the music:

Tech attempted to comm Hunter. 

No answer. 

He heard and FELT an explosion. 

Tiggy screamed loudly, causing Tech to jump out of his skin.  She immediately ran for the open hatch.  Tech leapt catching her by the collar. 

“DAAB, TIGGY!  STAY!  STOP!!!”  No command helped as she dragged him across the Marauder’s floor. 

She sensed something was VERY WRONG.  Tech managed to engage his remote access closing the gangplank via arm link, then bearhugged Tiggy with both arms.  Her strength, even for a now medium sized canine, surprised him. 

Tiggy screamed and struggled violently as Tech wrapped his long gangly legs around her to prevent getting loose.  Committed dog that she was to her people, she never bit him, but alligator rolled growling. 

When the gangplank closed, Tech let go launching himself into the pilot seat starting up the Marauder’s engines.   

Tiggy continually threw herself at the closed gangplank. 

Over the noise of the Marauder’s engines Tech heard the strong rumble of thunder.  A fat raindrop splattered across the ship's windscreen. 

Taphao Kaew’s weather patterns SHOULD’NT support rain in THIS season...

The Marauder took off from the forest floor. 

LOVE caterwauled over Mad’s body.   

Hunter sensed a HUGE electromagnetic front forming quickly above them.  The sky ROILED as dark clouds blotted out the sun.  He leaned down over Mad and attempted to pick up her bloody body.  It was difficult to tell her status through the thousands of cuts she sustained from shrapnel during the blast. 

Though unconscious Mad was STILL breathing. 

LOVE started to cry HUGE wet tears.  They ran down their cheeks... 

The sky opened and a DELUGE of rain fell. 

Jeb appeared next to Hunter.  “The HELL this storm come from???   

“Blame it on us.” Hunter remarked as he eyed LOVE. 

Rain fell upon Mad’s body, washing the blood away temporarily.  He leaned across to shield her and drew his weapon.  Jeb drew his as well.  Both stood their ground...waiting. 

A blaster bolt rang through the smoke.  LOVE blocked it one handed. 

The CX Trooper stepped out into full view, leveling his rifle at LOVE, Hunter, and Jeb. 

He spoke in a hauntingly distorted voice “The clone, force sensitive, AND Jedi asset.  How convenient.” 

“I WON’T go willingly” Hunter growled.  “Won’t let you take ANYONE else, either.” 

“It’s not YOU I’m after.” CX sneered through his helmet. 

Hunter’s eyes widened.  This Trooper KNEW who he was...and about Omega too. 

Good thing she was safe on the Beldame. 

“Hand HER over and I’ll go easy on your squad.” CX nodded in Mad’s direction.  “That one too.” Nodding to LOVE. 

LOVE’S head slowly rose up to face the CX Trooper.  Eyes no longer yellow green...but bright CRIMSON RED! 

Hunter’s long hair slowly rose up and strained to stand on end.  His bandana held most of it back.  He could FEEL an electrical charge building. 

“LOVE...DON’T do it.”  Hunter tried his darndest to keep calm. 

They weren’t listening.  NOTHING was getting through.  His skin TINGLED! 

OH...SHIT!”  Hunter grabbed Jeb dragging him to the ground, then threw his own body over the boy and Mad. 

LOVE struggled to speak...”Nnnn...nnn...naaAAAHHHH!”  Then SCREAMED “NNN...NOOOO!!!” Face flushed as red as their eyes.

A bolt of lightning made explosive contact next to the CX Trooper.  He flew back with several trees falling and igniting into flames. 

LOVE, unhinged screamed outwardly over and over and over and over.  ALL of the fear, anger, and sadness emanated outward VIOLENTLY! 

More lightening strikes.   

Hunter heard the distant sounds of people SCREAMING...unsure if in fear...or injury... 

The rain picked up threefold, wind WAILING through the trees! 

Taphao Kaew’s soil couldn’t handle the sudden volume of water raining down.  The ground underneath gave way.  Hunter grabbed Mad with one hand and, LOVE with the other, then attempted to catch Jeb with both legs around his midsection.   

They splashed into a torrent of watery mud with a wickedly strong current.  It pulled them all downhill as a huge swath of earth cleaved away from the forest.  The water swallowed trees, land speeders, pushing parked ships up against the Rebel Base...collapsing the outer wall.  Then flowed around the building further downhill. 

Their group were pulled downhill towards the clearing...and the mess of trees, equipment, ships, assorted flotsam and jetsam.   

Hunter knew they would all be crushed in the wreckage or swallowed up in the mud. 

LOVE laid back, watery mud coursing around them.  The grey sky rained down into their eyes blurring everything in sight.  Mind clouded and FULL of anger.  Hate burning hot while the waters around them couldn’t cool their volatile emotions. 

“LOVE!  SNAP OUT OF IT!!!” attempting to get to them.  “WE NEED YOU!” Muddy water washed over Hunter’s helmet, silencing his pleas.  Luckily it was sealed tight to prevent leakage. 

A dark shadow blotted out the rain, as they slipped quickly down the ravine.  LOVE’S vision cleared as Tech brought the Marauder above them. 

The best he could do was drop rappelling lines to Hunter and hope he could reach them.  Tech opened Marauder’s bottom hatch...fully realizing Tiggy might jump out of the ship.  Tiggy was beyond listening and Tech needed both hands on the controls.   

He opened the doors and hoped for the best. 

Tiggy scrabbled across the deck flooring, sliding straight to the open space.  Tech grit his teeth. 

Miraculously she held onto the edge of the hatch, barking down into the gloom for all she was worth. 

The roar of the engines reached into LOVE’S ears.  Beneath that...barking.  LOVE realized Tiggy was on board the Marauder!  SOMEHOW she had managed to get aboard with LOVE unable to detect her presence. 

To LOVE’S faraway brain, it seems Tiggy was barking in Basic Standard... 

“BARK, BARK, BARK...WAKE UP!  WAKE UP!  WAKE UP!!!” 

LOVE’S eye widened, their head snapped up to see... 

...Hunter’s fist firmly gripping the front of LOVE’s tunic, his other arm disappeared under the water... 

...a long, wet shock of silver hair bobbed and flowed up from the watery depths...where Hunter feebly attempted to keep Mad’s head above water... 

Hunter’s legs wrapped around... a STORM TROOPER!   

The Trooper held on for dear life to Hunter’s right leg.  LOVE could hear his screams ringing out from the comm in his helmet. 

“LOVE!!!” Hunter yelled. 

The group suddenly bounced off immense tree roots, pushing Hunter’s head under the water again.  Mad’s head bobbed up above the surface, still unconscious. 

Hunter popped back up, while NEVER letting go...neither did Jeb.  Mad’s head disappeared underwater again. 

WHAT AM I DOING???  LOVE SCREAMED inside their head! 

They reached out with the Force...pushing...rising... 

LOVE levitated out of the water, pulling Hunter with them.  It took some work...he was heavier than he looked.  The violent current dragging their bodies made it even more difficult. 

Tech held The Marauder in place just above. 

In their mind, LOVE called out to the Force for help.  PLEADED even.  HELP ME...PLEASE!!! 

LOVE PUSHED...Mad emerged from the water where Hunter had a hold of the back of her robes... 

They pushed HARDER.  Muscles tensing to fever pitch...feeling as if they would split apart... 

Jebith emerged from the water, still grasping Hunter’s legs.   

LOVE pulled the group up, up, up... 

A strong JERK pulled the group down again.  There was another weight added... 

The CX Trooper grabbed onto Jeb’s legs scaling him like a rope!  He climbed up Jebith’s body, then Hunter’s...stopping to hold on and address Hunter eye to eye. 

“You shouldn’t have left your OWN behind!” CX taunted him. 

“Who the fuck ARE YOU???”  Hunter shouted.   

“YOU chose THEM over your BROTHERS!” The voice, while distorted sounded Reg-like...mixed with another familiar voice. 

“...Crosshair???”  Hunter grasped at straws...the body type wasn’t thin enough...but he hadn’t seen his brother for some time... 

“Your misguided alliance will COST you!” CX refused to answer Hunter’s question. 

Instead, he viciously kicked Jebith free from Hunter’s grasp.  The young trooper screamed as he fell, then hit the water, disappearing into the muddy rolling depths. 

Hunter kneed CX in the crotch while headbutting him.   

CX’s grip released.  He slipped down... 

Drawing his vibroblade unthinkably quick... 

Stabbing Hunter’s upper thigh just below the hip expertly between the armor.  Sinking it deeply into soft tissue. 

Hunter SCREAMED in agony!  CX pulled himself up on the blade, grabbing the hair on Mad’s head, flipping her head up to face him. 

“Pity.  She’s dead.” He scoffed at her pale face and blue lips. 

He let go of her then proceeded to climb up Hunter towards LOVE. 

LOVE had almost reached the bottom hatch of the Marauder.  Hunter sensed LOVE needed to be free of the weight of the bodies below them. 

Hunter yelled out to LOVE “I’VE GOT THIS!  DO WHAT YOU DO!!!” 

He let go. 

CX slipped back down, holding onto Hunter’s shoulders. 

Hunter sensed a large presence arrive and blot out the Marauder as he punched CX in the throat. 

He and Mad fell, as Hunter caught the rappelling cable attached to the Marauder.  He never let go of Mad.   

CX gagged, letting go of Hunter, then engaged his own rappelling line upward.  He kicked away and zipped upward quickly towards LOVE. 

LOVE, still levitating, reached out to push CX away as he stunned them.  

He caught LOVE’s body as it fell... 

Tiggy leapt out of the Marauder, hitting him like a ton of bricks. Biting, scratching, mauling the CX Trooper. 

He screamed and swore as he zipped away towards his ship, still holding LOVE. 

Hunter rode his line up through the Marauder’s bottom hatch, setting Mad down.  

“TECH, FOLLOW THAT SHIP!”  He barked.  “TROOPER HAS LOVE AND TIGGY!!!” 

“On it!” Tech closed the hatch, engaging the Marauder.  As he watched the CX Trooper zipline into his ship, closing the hatch. 

Ignoring the searing pain of the knife buried in him, Hunter leaned over Mad.  He fumbled at opening her mouth to scoop out wet debris clearing her airway.  Then started breaths and compressions...

To read Chapter 23 - "RETREAT"

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/763930279133970432/vagabonds-chapter-23?source=share

Please let me know if you wanted to be added to my taglist or removed! Thanks so much for your support!!!

[elismor]

Look! It's Flood!

AND HE HAS A COOL ROCK!

I'm ridiculously excited about this. He's so cuuuttteee!

Commission for @elismor!

(commissions are open!)

[wizardofrozz]

"Do I look like I've moved on?" with Cody

Always Yours

Commander Cody x fem!reader, Original Clone Troopers (Zero and Lith)

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: NSFW +18, smut, slight dubcon, possessive behavior (Cody's a little toxic in this), rough handling, exhibitionism

A/N: Happy Star Wars Day! Writing for Cody is new for me but this turned out better than I expected lol. I want to thank @homie-one-kenobi for letting me borrow her OC Lith for this fic and for all the encouragement and help from her, @a-single-tulip and @techs-feral-wife 💕

If anyone had told you that your night at 79’s would’ve ended with your cheek pressed into the wall of some dark corner with a panting commander at your back, you might’ve hit them. 

You were the idiot for thinking it would’ve ended any other way. 

It had started like any other night when you visited 79’s with a few of your friends, except this time there wasn’t a gold-painted commander ready to drag you to bed. You were almost sure he wasn’t even on Coruscant and that was the main reason you agreed to the night out. You had been playing this back and forth with Cody for a while now. Fucking like ashrabbits at every opportunity only to never hear from him until he blew back into 79’s after another campaign. It was an exhausting routine that got harder each time. Especially when you found yourself wanting…more from him. Something that seemed impossible for a man like him. 

You shoved away any thoughts of the 212th in general and leaned against the bar, half-heartedly listening to the conversation your friends were having. Luckily, it didn’t take long to catch a curious eye, although his red armor made you hesitate. Your job in the Republic Detention Center meant you worked closely with the Guard, and most notably, Commander Fox. 

Fox, who happened to speak to Cody at least once a week and couldn’t resist indulging in good gossip.

You allowed yourself to be pulled in by a sweet smile for the night knowing that Fox, and eventually Cody, would know about it in no time. You smirked to yourself as you approached the trooper, wishing you could see the look on Cody’s face when Fox undoubtedly called him. 

The trooper in question, Zero, truly was a sweetheart, and you felt a little guilty that you couldn’t give him what he deserved, but he seemed to understand on some level. You were currently perched on Zero’s lap, mindlessly playing with his fingers while he recounted the story of how he got his name. He was the kind of man you should’ve gravitated toward, but when did life ever make sense? 

“So, you’re proud of, as you put it, having zero brain cells,” you giggled, smiling when Zero’s cheeks took on a faint pink color.

“Well, when you say it that way,” he mumbled, twisting his mouth to the side. You laughed a bit louder, swaying close enough to catch a glimpse of his cheeky grin and unintentionally bringing your tangled hands closer to your chest. His gloved thumb grazed your collarbone, the warmth of his skin under the fabric had goosebumps trailing behind his touch, turning your laughter to ash on your tongue. He was close enough that you could feel his breath against your lips. 

“I think it’s cute,” you whispered, your eyes trained on his mouth. 

“And I think you’re beautiful,” Zero countered. You watched the smile form on his lips, transfixed by how it fell somewhere between flirtatious and sweet. There was a gentle pressure against the underside of your chin, tilting your head back to force you to meet his eyes. Your lashes fluttered as he closed the gap, his lips finding yours in a soft, hesitant kiss.  

An explosion of whoops and cheers had you jerking back, years of working in a prison meant that loud bursts of noise had you whipping around in a panic to look at the door on instinct. Your heart immediately hit the floor when your brain registered that, you weren’t at work, and it wasn’t prisoners but waves of orange armored soldiers blowing through the doors. 212th troopers flooded the bar and you were blatantly staring, looking for that distinct sunburst that you had hoped you’d make it through one night without seeing. 

But when would you ever be that lucky?

He was the last through the door, keeping a slow, unbothered pace as he wandered toward the bar, eyes scanning the room. A small part of you hoped he wouldn’t notice you but you could see the exact moment his eyes landed on you. Cody’s mellow expression steadily darkened, his jaw flexing as his eyes ran the length of your body, noting the trooper you were perched on. Suddenly you were almost scared for the poor, naive shock trooper. 

“Hey,” Zero mumbled, cautiously cradling your hand. “What’s wrong?” You turned your head, finding genuine concern shining in his eyes and it broke your heart; this man had no idea what kind of mess he’d walked into. 

“Uh, I know some of the 212th,” you admitted with a shrug. The white lie was obvious but Zero let it slide, nodding as he shifted his eyes to the battalion getting louder by the minute. Cody had moved to an empty spot at the bar but you could still feel his eyes burying holes into your skin. “We could get out of here if you want?”

“Sure,” Zero replied, a small smile on his face, “I can walk you home.”

“I’d like that.” Zero’s smile brightened as he helped you to your feet before sliding out of his seat and leaning down next to your ear.

“Let me run to the bathroom before we go,” he yelled over the music. You nodded, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek as you handed over his helmet. The dusting of pink in his cheeks was back and you wished that it could last but you knew the second you were alone, all hell was going to break loose. Maybe one day he’d find someone that could give him what he deserved. You watched Zero work his way through the crowd until he disappeared into the sea of brothers, squirming under the heavy stare you could feel on your back. 

“You know he’s gonna be pissed.” You spun around at the voice next to your ear, blinking rapidly at Lith’s smug expression. 

“Hi, nice to see you too, Lith. How’ve you been?” you sassed, rolling your eyes. Lith just arched a brow, loudly sipping his drink, waiting for you to break the stalemate first. “It’s none of his business. He made it glaringly obvious that he doesn’t care.”

“Ha! That’s cute, you thinking he doesn’t care,” Lith laughed, shaking his head and you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach somersaulted at the thought. He leaned into your personal space, the acidic stench of cheap liquor on his breath. “Looks like you’ll find out for yourself.” His eyes lifted to something over your shoulder before he backed away, doing a terrible job of hiding his smirk behind the rim of his cup. The unforgiving hand that closed around your bicep had you going rigid, muscles locking up when his grip tightened. 

You refused to even look at him, trying to tug your arm away but Cody was relentless. You knew there was no use in fighting it, giving up and letting him drag you through the writhing crowd of bodies. He still wore all of his armor, sans helmet, allowing you to glare at the back of his head, occasionally catching a glimpse of his profile. You stumbled to a stop when Cody pulled you into one of the back hallways of the bar that was blessedly empty, something you knew wouldn’t last long as 79’s grew busier.

“What do you want, Cody?” you snapped as soon as he released your arm. He turned a sharp look in your direction but you stood your ground, crossing your arms. It was infuriating that despite how irritated you were with him, there was a tiny part of you that was relieved to see him alive. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“None of your damn business,” you hissed, taking a step closer to him. You expected anger, maybe even contempt, but Cody letting out a harsh, unamused laugh was probably at the bottom of your expectations for this conversation. 

“Aw, you really liked Fox’s shiny, huh?” Cody taunted, a cruel edge to his voice that you hated more with each passing second. 

“Maybe I did,” you spat, stifling the urge to shove him. “Maybe I had plans to show him what us natborns have to offer.” Cody’s expression twisted into something dangerous and he stalked toward you, backing you into a dark corner, looming over you. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled, face barely inches from yours.

“And why not? You didn’t seem to have a problem sticking your dick in the closest breathing life form.” He jerked back like you’d hit him, a familiar crease forming between his brows, and for a moment you faltered. 

“What are you talking about?” he huffed, pressing two fingers into his right eye, an action you knew meant he had a headache building.

“I saw you with that Mirialan last time you were on-world,” you admitted, grinding your teeth at the image of the barely dressed woman draped across his lap. “You moved on, so I planned to do the same.” The words were barely out of your mouth before he surged forward, trapping you against the wall with a bruising kiss. Your immediate reaction was to push him away but your strength was no match for him, and if you were being honest, you had been craving this: the dominating sweep of his tongue, the way his presence demanded your attention, and the borderline possessive grip on the back of your neck. 

You ached for him no matter how hard you tried to fight it, despite the hurt that came with his presence. 

Cody broke away first, resting his forehead against yours. “Do I look like I’ve moved on?” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” you huffed, turning your face away from him. Cody growled, the hand curled around your neck tightening as he wedged his armored leg between yours, pressing the rigid plastoid tight against your suddenly aching pussy. 

“Guess I’ll have to prove it,” Cody breathed against your lips. You yelped at the sudden movement, gasping when your cheek met the cool wall, and your thigh clenched to satiate your throbbing clit. His body molded against your back, his warm breath puffing against your cheek, similar to how Zero’s had not even 15 minutes ago, but this promised something far less innocent than a chaste kiss. “For the record, I didn’t fuck that Mirialan.”

“Why?” you couldn’t help but ask. You weren’t expecting much, maybe an irritated huff but your lashes fluttered when his tense muscles softened against your back, his grip loosening slightly. 

“She’s not my sunshine,” he whispered, his pinched expression barely visible in your periphery. He didn’t even give you a second to absorb his confession before he was yanking your pants down, knocking the air from your lungs when his finger slid through your soaked folds. “Stars, you’re dripping.”

“Are you really surprised? It’s you,” you panted, blindly searching for his belt buckle. Cody chuckled against your shoulder, expertly sinking his finger into you down to the second knuckle from behind and resting his other hand on the curve of your waist. Stars exploded behind your eyelids, a soft whine working its way up your throat when it was just shy of what you had been craving. 

“Oh, cyare, you have no idea what you do to me,” he mumbled, pumping his finger.

“How - how about you show me instead of talking about it,” you taunted, rocking back into his hand. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise when he shoved two fingers inside you as far as they would go; you had asked for it. 

“I’m starting to wonder if I should fill that bratty mouth instead,” he mused, curling his fingers in a way that had your knees threatening to give out. You were quickly hurtling toward your first orgasm, your thoughts running together as pleasure tore through every cell in your body. 

“Fuck - I don’t care, just fill something,” you pleaded, meeting the slow thrust of his fingers. Cody groaned against your hair when you clenched around his fingers, your body unable to decide if you wanted his fingers or his cock. An involuntary whimper left your lips when you were suddenly empty and the clatter of plastoid behind you was enough to leave you squirming. 

“Ready?” Cody whispered against your cheek, his lips just barely brushing over your skin.

“Cody,” you whined, pushing against the head of his cock that was resting against your entrance. He didn’t seem to care about your pleading, sliding his cock through your soaked folds, the head nudging your clit with just the right amount of pressure. Stars danced behind your eyes, the drag of his cock taunting you with the one thing you wanted. Cody wasted too fucking long coating himself in your arousal only to sink into you without warning; the stretch was almost too much, bordering on painful. He didn’t stop until there was nothing left for you to take and his armored chest was flush against your back. He may as well have been in your lungs with how hard it was to pull in a full breath, your head feeling a little fuzzy. 

“Maker, you - you take me so well,” Cody panted, kissing down the length of your neck. You turned your head, resting your forehead against the wall, simply trying to breathe as the pain started to blossom into pleasure. The hand on your waist tightened, likely leaving finger-shaped bruises behind, a thought that made your head spin. Cody stood perfectly still as if he wasn’t balls deep in your fluttering pussy and if you could think straight, you’d have been a little peeved at his control. 

Just as you opened your mouth to beg him to start moving, Cody rolled his hips, forcing a surprised moan past your lips. Of course, that fucker could read you like an open book. However, that was the only warning he gave you before he pulled all the way out only to deliver a pointed thrust to exactly where you needed it most. Cody started at a brutal pace, the edges of his thigh armor biting into the back of your legs but you couldn’t find the brain power to give a shit, solely focusing on not drawing other patron’s attention. 

You jerked when something brushed against your lips, peeling your eyes open to find his free hand near your face.

“Open,” Cody ordered hoarsely in your ear, lightly tapping your bottom lip again. “And no biting.” You hesitated for a moment, this apparently being the thing that made your cheeks feel warm, not the fact that he was fucking you senseless with hundreds of his brothers a few feet away. And yet, your lips parted for him, taking two fingers into your mouth. You weren’t paying attention to what hand it was so when the faint taste of your own arousal hit your tongue you whimpered, clenching around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his pace faltering. “Good– good girl. You like that, huh?” You could only hum in response, earning a soft, shaky chuckle from the man behind you, and in some twisted way it felt like this piece of him belonged to you. A part of himself he willingly shared with you when he didn’t need to, allowing you to see the effect you had on him. “I - I know…I do too.”

You moaned around his fingers, doing your best to meet his unforgiving thrusts just to hear the pinched-off moan he muffled against your shoulder, sending you closer to your tipping point. The heat building under your skin continued to grow but there was a disconnect, you could only just brush against it, leaving the mind-blowing orgasm out of reach. You squirmed trying to change the angle but Cody’s hand on your hips kept you trapped; this asshole knew it wasn’t enough. Worst of all, to make his point, he started to pump his fingers in time with his thrusts and you moaned desperately, debating on just touching yourself if he wasn’t going to. 

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, teeth grazing your jaw. “You told me to fill something, so I’m giving you what you wanted, cyare.” Cody pressed down on your tongue, slamming into you before going still, his slightly labored breathing puffing against your cheek. “I’d find a way to fill all three if I had the time.”

The pathetic cry of his name was muffled against his fingers, tears starting to well up as you teetered on the edge, so close yet so far. There was a moment of stillness, his cock twitching inside you before he started to lazily grind against your ass, the pressure on your tongue letting up. 

“I’ll give you what you want if you give me what I want,” he proposed, nuzzling against the bolt of your jaw. It was a much sweeter gesture than the rest of his demeanor would suggest and you couldn’t decide between being irritated or flustered. Either way, you nodded as best as you could, ready to give him whatever he wanted. “You’re mine - fuck - you hear me?” he panted, struggling to keep the lazy pace, his hips stuttering. “Some - some wet-behind-the-ears shiny wouldn’t know how to do this for you. He’s not me.” The desperation in his voice resonated in your soul, reminding you of why there was no one that could captivate you quite like Cody. “Please, just - just say it.”

His fingers slid out of your mouth, trailing spit down your chin. Cody gave you a minute to catch your breath, his presence lingering over your shoulder expectantly. Later, when your brain was back online, maybe you’d regret saying it, but deep down you knew it was true; you belonged to Commander Cody no matter how badly you tried to fight it.

“I’m yours, Cody,” you whispered, turning your head enough to bump your forehead against him. There was another weighted pause before he craned his neck, blindly kissing the corner of your mouth.

“And I’m yours,” he breathed, the admission making your throat feel tight. There were very few times Cody let this type of vulnerability through and you treasured each one but this one was easily the most profound. He was telling you the one thing you never thought possible from a man of his position and it was equally as beautiful as it was arousing. “Always yours.”

“Then show me,” you pleaded, pressing back into him. The soft laugh that bubbled past his lips made your stomach somersault, only making your barely coherent thoughts feel more disjointed, yet your lips parted on instinct at the soft tap of his finger. Cody kissed your cheek in a final sweet gesture before bucking his hips, punching what would’ve been a loud cry from you if it weren’t for his fingers stuffed in your mouth. Cody resumed his previous, punishing pace, yet this time the hand keeping a vise grip on your waist loosened, trailing lower. 

Your knees buckled at the lightning-quick tap against your clit, somehow pushing him deeper and the tears finally fell. Thank the heavens above that he didn’t stop there though, pressing with the perfect amount of pressure, drawing tight, fast circles that made each of your stunted inhales grow shorter until you were forced to unseal your lips from around his fingers. 

“Let go, sunshine,” Cody coaxed, sounding a bit desperate. You had been known to push his buttons, disobeying when the urge struck, but this was not one of those times. Your hands clawed at the wall, your back arching as the coil finally snapped, the pleasure lighting up every nerve ending from your head to your toes. Cody used the fingers still filling your mouth to tilt your head back, doing his best to muffle your sobs as he moaned openly against your shoulder. He made it through a few more pumps before going rigid, a barely audible whine leaving his lips as he came. 

You both slumped forward simultaneously, Cody’s fingers slipping from your mouth as his weight pressed you into the wall. The warm panting against your throat slowly brought you back to the land of the living, realizing Cody was still buried inside your sensitive cunt, his cum starting to leak down the inside of your thigh. 

“You’re fucking heavy,” you complained half-heartedly. Cody littered your shoulder with light, playful kisses, his arms moving to wrap around your waist as his shoulders shook with laughter. 

“Not usually wearing 80 pounds of armor,” he chuckled, kissing the base of your throat. That reminded you of where you were, realizing that the harsh lines of his thigh plates were still biting into the back of your legs, making you wonder if you’d have bruises for days to come. 

“Finding that I don’t really mind it,” you confessed, wiggling your arms out from where they were pinned to the wall so you could gently stroke his arm. “Sometimes at least.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cody snorted, one of his hands snagging your fingers as they trailed up his arm. A calm, intimate silence settled around you, letting you just bask in Cody’s presence but all good things had to come to an end. 

“We should go before someone finds us,” you sighed, dropping your cheek against the side of his head.

“Waxer and Lith are standing guard.”

“Of course they are,” you giggled, rolling your eyes fondly. Then you remembered a poor shock trooper most likely looking for you. “Did you at least tell Zero I didn’t get kidnapped?”

“No,” Cody grunted, squeezing your fingers in a way that definitely felt possessive. Oh, you had a bad feeling about what that meant. 

“Is Fox going to be calling to rip you a new one?”

“...maybe.” As if on cue, the comlink on Cody’s vambrace started to chirp softly and you had to stifle a laugh. 

“Come on,” you urged, voice wavering in an attempt to hide your amusement, “I want to go curl up in bed with a lot less plastoid, and you have the consequences of your actions to deal with.” Cody grumbled for a few seconds but inevitably untangled himself from you, bending down to grab his codpiece as you hiked your pants up again. You almost regretted wearing one of your favorite outfits now that they’d been stained with remnants of Cody. Almost. You glanced over at him once he finished clipping his codpiece in place, grinning at the scowl he was aiming at his comlink.

“What?” Cody grumbled. Fox barely let him finish answering the call before ripping into his brother.

“I’m coming for your fucking kneecaps,” Fox said, sounding eerily calm. “See how well you fuck without ‘em.” Cody shot you a dark look when you giggled but it didn’t hold its usual weight seeing that his brother’s disembodied voice was still chewing him out. You shot him a wink as you backed down the hallway, ignoring the warning in his beautiful brown eyes. 

“Reap what you sow, dear,” you called, blowing him a kiss before slipping through the door. You would definitely pay for that later and the idea that there would be a later with Cody made all the heartache worth it. 

Taglist: @toomanybandstocare @starrylothcat

[blackseafoam]

Healed Wrong

Part 1 of 4

next

WC: 2349

Warnings: Character death, near-drowning, self-harm (kinda)

Summary: Clone Troopers Flinch, Sway and Ash are freshly deployed on the swamp planet of Dokmur to guard a republic base. Things are uneventful, but danger lurks in the nearby flooded forest.

Heeere's my clone OC, Flinch's (CT-8424) backstory! Probably what he was retelling to ulvi in this comic. Takes place toward the very end of the war, weeks before order 66 and the fall of the Jedi.

Whumptober 2024. Day 06 l not realizing they're injured l unhealthy coping mechanisms l healed wrong l "it's not my blood"

The battlefield was a swamp, and forces on both sides struggled to maneuver. The battles were hell, the boots were constantly filled with water, and the insects bit through every gap in the armor.

Flinch, Ash, and Sway were as shiny as shiny could get, assigned as warm bodies protecting the perimeter of a base hardly anyone was using.

“I think the Sergeant has lost his mind.” Sway huffed as he scanned the tree lines

“What makes you say that?” Ash stood at his right. 

“He’s got us running around all over the place, checking the weak points in the wall. Shouldn’t we just be patrolling around the whole perimeter in a circle? We’d end up wasting way less time that way.” 

Ash Shrugged. “Maybe we should ask him why?”

“Hell no, questioning a superior officer? Are you serious?”

Ash shrugged again. “Maybe if you frame it like a suggestion? Or curiosity?” 

“Not with Sergeant Kip, he’d have us court martialed for tying our shoes wrong.” 

“Our boots don’t have laces…” Ash‘s comment trailed off as another figure started running toward them from the sentry threshold in the force field which surrounded the base. 

“Late again?” Ash chided, Flinch didn’t need to see his face to know there was a cocky smirk beneath that helmet.

Flinch slowed to a jog as he closed the distance. “I left my bucket in the refresher right before someone went in and took FOREVER to finish up!” He complained with a huff.

Sway and Ash laughed

“You’re a mess.” Sway punched at Flinch in the arm. 

“OW! Dammit Sway it’s still healing!” Flinch reflexively grabbed his right bicep where his fresh fist print tattoo was marinating under a bacta patch. 

“What’s the point of getting a tattoo no one will see?” Ash tilted his head, the middle of his flame tattoo that led from behind his ear to his collarbone just barely visible. 

“At least mine isn’t a boat.”  Flinch's defensive glare was so potent it shot through his visor.

“What’s wrong with a boat?” Sway scoffed.

“Why do you even like them? They’re useless.”

“They’re efficient… and poetic.”

The patrol went on as usual, boring. The three took turns, rotating one person at the post and two roving, none of them ever out of sight of each other. 

Flinch and Sway walked their route, their conversation dwindling as they grew hungrier through their long shift. They slowed at the treeline. 

“Our relief must be overdue.” Sway complained.

Flinch glanced at the sky. “Nah, we’ve still got an hour and a half.”

“How do you know that?”

“The moons, see? That larger one hasn’t crossed the path of the smaller one yet, they follow the same path every day.”

“How is it you have the concentration to know where the celestial bodies are at all times, but no focus when it comes to keeping your kit together?”

Flinch shrugged, looking into the woods. The stagnant water rippling between the mangrove trees that stood like sentinels in the swamp. “What is that?”

Sway followed his gaze. The still water had begun to ripple. “Probably a fish or something, let’s stay focused Flinch.” He lightly cuffed Flinch’s left, untattooed arm. The pair kept walking the treeline. The pair cast a cautious glance toward Ash, a hundred yards away now, dutifully watching his patrolling brothers with his rifle at the ready. 

Flinch and Sway were at the edge of their assigned area, about to turn back the way they came. Flinch looked up into the tree that marked their border, its base was submerged in the water here at the edge of the swamp.The branches were tall and spindly with myriads of tiny leaves all reaching toward the sky. Vines and bromeliadae hung from the trunk and branches like draped sinew. He spun on his heel and turned toward the base.  

Before the two knew what was happening, arms appeared from behind a tree and snatched both of them. They gasped in sync as the forceful tugs of two assassin droids wrapped around their waists set them off balance and plunging into the thick black water. 

Flinch panicked as he felt the full weight of the droid now on top of him, he could barely see through the opaque surface of the water. Even though the seal of his helmet kept the water out, he already felt the lack of oxygen through the filter in front of his mouth.

“FLINCH! SWAY!” The helmet comm rang out, Ash had seen the attack but was still far away, and he was met with no response. Flinch found himself hoping Ash would stay away. Brave as he was, he was no match for a force like this. 

 The droid’s dead-eyed stare floated right over the surface, watching him struggle. His vision began to go black at the edges. NO. He steeled himself. This is not how I go out. He saw a third droid appear from above his head, upside-down in his vision. It held some kind of strange weapon, a blaster with a noise suppressing muzzle. The droid pointed it at Flinch’s head. 

With his last ounce of strength and at the end of his consciousness, Flinch ripped out one final burst of energy. Twisting suddenly, and violently. The soft mud helped him roll out from underneath the droid. Miraculously, he kept a grip on his blaster through the maneuver. His head spun as he hopped to his feet, his reaction time was not slowed as he put a laser bolt through the droid that had been straddling him. Followed quickly by dropping the second assassin droid on top of Sway.

He leveled his blaster at the third droid, with the modified pistol, and clipped his metal leg as the machine sprung up into the treetops with impressive ease. Flinch lost sight of it.

“I’ve got backup, we’re on our way!” Ash commed in as Flinch rushed to Sway.

“Copy.” Flinch coughed, ripping his helmet off as he caught his breath and grabbed Sway by the neck hole in his chest opening. Dragging his brother to the edge of the water, Flinch rolled Sway onto his side and removed his helmet as quickly as he could.

Sway was terrifyingly still for five agonizing seconds, Flinch’s chest seized with horror, then his brother let out a cough that sounded like it should’ve sent a lung flying across the mud where he lay. He gasped for air, and Flinch leaned forward and wrapped an arm over his side. “You’re okay, you stupid sailor.” He huffed, also out of breath. 

Sway would’ve said something snarky back, but was busy coughing out, gasping in. His whole body shuddered under Flinch’s hold. Flinch sat back up, and looked up at the treetops where the droid had disappeared to. The vines swayed, but now that his helmet was off he felt no wind.

Ash was still sprinting toward them, three other troopers at his flank, probably the next sentries on shift. Flinch struggled to bring his oxygen depleted mind back to focus, he looked back up to the trees. Something felt wrong. 

As much as he didn’t want to breathe the stale air of his helmet again, after almost taking his last breath inside it, he slammed the bucket back on. “Bogeys, tree bogeys.” He whispered into the comm, turning his gaze at the approaching figures again. 

Ash gave one single quick nod, and slowed to a jog, his reinforcements following suit. They were still a good distance away. Please, stay there, out of range. Flinch prayed. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do, boys.” Ash spoke steadily into the comm. His voice was calm and strong, a commander’s voice. He sounded different, not at all like the  young rookie he was. “The droids are using Flinch and Sway as bait, we can’t let them know that we know that. Let’s put on a good show, follow my lead.”

Ash turned off the comm and removed his helmet, his jog now slowing to a march as he neared earshot. “You boys okay? What happened?” 

Sway was attempting to get up now, still coughing and not able to speak. Flinch helped him up and supported his weight as he leaned wearily on his brother. “We’re okay, assassin droids jumped us from behind that tree, there was a third one but… I think it got away.” Flinch gestured toward the mangroves behind him, and slowly began walking himself and his brother toward their reinforcements. Ash held out a hand and made a small motion for them to slow down, casting the quickest glance possible toward the trees, his open palm became a fist, the signal to halt. Flinch obeyed the sign. 

Ash and the three other troopers closed the distance, he reached out and grabbed Flinch’s hand with both of his. “I’m glad you’re okay, brother.” His hands turned Flinch’s hand palm down, he had deposited a round object into his palm. Flinch couldn’t help but smirk. Ash stepped back. “Let’s head back, we’re going to need to activate some protocols.” Flinch caught the signal, flicking the button on the object in his hand. He noticed the other troopers subtly doing the same thing. Ash had always been the tactician. “And from there we’ll have to send our reports straight up to the TOP!” He screamed the last word and all five of them flung their droid poppers into the treetops with all their might. “GO GO GO GO GO!” Ash cried out while grabbing at Sway, who was still coughing but able to keep up with Ash and Flinch pulling at him as they followed the other three patrol troopers who were sprinting back toward the perimeter. The telltale burst of energy sounded as the poppers found their marks, the trio could hear several droid bodies hit the mud below. Then the shots rang out, and they tore across the field with their lives. 

All six troopers made it back to the sentry tower, gasping. As soon as the door closed behind them, Sway collapsed against Flinch. Flinch held his brother up, shocked relief written across his face, a smile hinting through his open mouth as he also caught his breath. The two fell to their knees on the metal floor, their white armor absolutely filthy with black mud.

“I got you brother, let’s get you both cleaned up.” Ash reached down to lift up Sway, who was, in fact, swaying on his knees and beginning to lean forward. Sway accepted the help and got to his feet, a hand on Ash’s shoulder for support. Flinch pushed himself up off his knees and followed, leaving black footprints behind himself. As they exited the tower, several officers rushed up to them asking questions about the incident. Flinch looked up at the moons, studying their position again. Hardly any time. Hardly any time had gone by. That whole ordeal had been mere minutes, he had lived a lifetime and all the emotions in between in those few minutes. 

“No, I don’t think any of us are hurt.” Ash reassured one of the officers as they walked.

“There’s blood on the ground.” The non-clone officer pointed out.

At the comment everyone looked at the ground behind Flinch, who walked right behind Sway. Someone’s bootprint was leaving red tracks in the mossy ground. 

“I don’t think that’s mine...” Flinch’s face tightened, and he looked up at Sway and Ash. Sway was pale. Flinch looked down at his feet, blood cascaded out of the gap between his shin guard and his boot, the black mud that had been therewas replaced by bright red. 

Flinch has a hard time recalling the minutes that followed. Quite unlike the slowed-down time of his adrenaline-induced altercation with the droids, he only remembers the next part in flashes. 

Sway went down, Flinch would not leave his side, Sway’s pale face, and the shaking. Shock. They had learned all about shock as cadets. They made it back, they were supposed to be safe. They had won, that was supposed to be the end of it.

No one had noticed the second assassin droid had a vibroknife, somehow it had found the gap in the armor on Sway’s thigh.

Sway’s last moments were spent frightened, looking up at Flinch. Flinch grabbed the side of his face below the ear, thumb leaving prints of blood over the glyphic boat tattoo on his jaw. He wished he had the mind to say something, anything, any words to comfort Sway as the light left his eyes. The medics didn’t make it in time. Too much time in the rancid water, too much time running while bleeding out, not enough time to get help. Not enough time to say goodbye.

-

Flinch lay in his bunk that night staring at the bottom of the mattress above him. Ash had commandeered the bunk beside his, the previous owner not making any fuss about trading for this night. 

“They said they want to check you for fluid in your lungs again tomorrow morning.” Ash reported, sitting on the very edge of the thin mattress, leaning his elbows on his knees. He looked at Flinch, but tears stung his eyes, he looked down at the floor instead. 

“Water didn’t even get in my mouth.” Flinch said, deadpan.

Ash shrugged. “I told them that, they didn’t care. They just wanted me to tell you. Don’t shoot the messenger.” He gave a weak attempt at a light-hearted tone.

Flinch closed his eyes and sighed, turning over in the bed away from Ash. He felt Ash’s weight sit next to him, setting hand on his shoulder. Ash said nothing, just breathed for a while. “I’ll be right here.” He patted Flinch as he stood and moved to his borrowed bunk just a few feet away. 

Flinch’s left hand found the neck of his black underarmor, he pulled at it, then his hand went inside the shirt to his right bicep. His fresh tattoo. It had begun to itch like mad ever since a few hours ago. As he scratched at it the sensation brought quick relief, he didn’t slow down as it turned into a burning bright pain. He didn’t remember stopping, he didn’t remember falling asleep either. 

[galacticgraffiti]

𑁍⋆ Eya - Ep. VIII ⋆𑁍

Rating: General Wordcount: 2.7k Characters: Eya (Nautolan!OC), Jaster (Eya's loth-cat). Mentioned: Kad (Clone Trooper!OC), Marilys (Dancer!OC), Dayra and Ach'la (vague Nautolan OCs) Warnings: some angsty bits, but also comfort. phantom limb of sorts.

A/N: Here, have some backstory. And some Nautolans headcanons. And some worldbuilding. Also the image of 8ft tall Eya with a tiny, old and greying loth-cat as comfort. Huge thanks to my forever-beta reader @baba-fett (I'm kissing you), and for my beloved @cyarbika's feedback on this chapter! ♡

Eya Artwork ⋆ Eya’s Charactersheet ⋆ My Masterlist

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Home in Dreams

Coruscant. Lower Aquatic District. 20 BBY

Eya stumbles on their way in, cursing quite loudly as they stub their toe. Seeing in the dark may be easy for them, but their eyes are used to the silky darkness of being underwater. The darkness of dry land is something else entirely. While the upper levels of Coruscant are never really dark - lit by eternal advertisements, speeder lights and bars - all light in the lower levels is artificial- and once that’s gone, not even the faintest glow remains.

It has been a long night, and Eya has been looking forward to finding some comfort in the presence of their hearth-family. The thought of them makes Eya smile.

It is customary for young Nautolans to live in a small community - a ‘hearth-family’ - after leaving their relatives behind to explore the galaxy. As happy as the thought of their new family makes them, Eya aches when they think about the family they had to leave behind - their ‘heart-family’.

Such a small difference between the words in Basic, and yet the concepts are completely different from each other:

The heart-family is the family you grow up with - biological, adoptive, foundling… They are your home, your steady haven. Or at least, they are supposed to be.

A hearth-family is temporary, and it’s meant to be. Hearth-families change, they might go through dozens of constellations. One member leaves, and another joins. It’s an island in an ever-changing sea, a safe place to rest and relax and feel at home for a while. Once you leave, though, you may well not find your way back.

It’s the Nautolan way of life, one that not even Eya’s Mandalorian upbringing broke with. Kyreya had always known they would have to leave and find their own way, though when they were little, they never imagined things would come to pass the way they did. Finding your first hearth-family can be a lengthy process, the process of selection a complicated one. Everyone has to feel comfortable; it is supposed to be more than just a temporary living situation. These people are family, for the time being. Finding a hearth-family is not supposed to be a last way out, is not supposed to be rushed.

In Eya’s case, it was. It was a way out of being alone on the streets of Coruscant, of sleeping on a mattress in the back of the Arena, a way out of the loneliness that weighed so heavy on them that some nights they couldn’t breathe. And sometimes they still cannot believe how incredibly lucky they got with the family they found.

Eya shakes a little when they open the door to step through the entrance and into the community ‘cube’. It’s the biggest one of the flat. The whole aquatic district of this level is made up of these bubbles that can be flooded entirely, depending on the inhabitants’ preferences. On the upper levels, there are underwater districts, but living there is way, way too expensive for a modest bouncer at some Republic-subsidised bar. Eya doesn’t mind, really. They are not sure they would have fit in with the fancy crowd as easily as they have fallen in with their family down here.

The apartment-cubes are small, but comfortable and cosy. They have everything you need, and this street has clearly been designed for Nautolan living: Everything is a little bigger than usual, and the way the cubes are connected is something Eya knows other aquatics don’t tend to do. Everything is a little grubby, a little worn down, but Eya thinks it’s just the right amount. It reminds them that there were other hearth-families that have lived here before them. It’s nice.

The community cube connects the living cubes of each family member. Some Nautolans like to have their entire hearth underwater, but Eya and their family have agreed to keep the communal cube dry so it is easier to have non-aquatic visitors over. 

The communal cube is kitchen, living room, and dining room all in one, and it can get a little cramped when everybody is home, but none of them usually mind. If you want privacy, you can always just go to your room. The community cube is here to be with each other - to sit and not talk but know that the other is here; to play and read together, to cook together and eat together and hold each other the way they all know they need to. That is what this is meant to be: A home away from home.

Eya coughs a little as they make their way across the room to the door of their own cube. They rifle through their pockets while walking, turning on their hydro-pipe and inhaling a few drags until their throat does not feel like it’s stuffed with cotton anymore.

It’s late - so late it’s actually early again, but someone is usually awake at all times: Dayra cooking for her wife, or Achl’a waiting for his partners to wake up after he comes home from a night shift so they can eat together before he goes to bed. Eya has been hoping for someone to be there, someone who understands without asking, and gives them the soft physical comfort of being wrapped up in each other as Nautolans tend to do when they feel each other’s distress.

Apparently, though, no one is home. The cubicle feels… empty. Which it so rarely does that it takes Eya a second to identify the feeling, and right now they really do not like it. It’s the last drop in the barrel of bantha-shit that was this long night. It would have been nice to come home to someone.

They sigh deeply, finally turning on the lights as they shed layer after layer of clothing that smells like smoke and spilled beer and cheap perfume. If no one is home, no one will mind them traipsing through the barely illuminated dark half-naked. Eya drops the dirty clothes down the cleaning chute, and presses the button that opens the door to their own cube. 

At home, the cubes look like corals, organic and natural. Eya’s mind stumbles when they realise that they still think of Glee Anselm as home. Here on Coruscant, hearths are nothing like they are back h- back on Glee Anselm. They are poor imitations of the real thing; even if some architect was at least kind and educated enough to care about the needs of the diverse populace. The high-quality hearths of the upper levels may come close to those of the waterworlds, but the lower levels must take what they can get.

Eya is grateful to have this, no matter how little the architecture looks like their brain still expects it to. It is not what they are used to, but they remember stepping inside this hearth and feeling at home immediately. Because of the people, of course, but also because of the way their presence had inevitably changed this place and made it their own. It felt like a place Eya could fit into - and they do. Even if the walls are cheap plastoid and duracrete, they belong here so much more than they ever belonged in the beautifully designed coral of their parents’ home on Glee Anselm. More than they belonged in the caves of Concordia.

Kyreya’s cube has two bedrooms - a luxury - and one of them is entirely submerged in water. Usually, they both would be, but Eya drained one of the cubes after Kad started to sleep over more often. It’s not fun for him to have to be connected to an aquata-breather the entire night, and wake up all… shrivelled. Eya shudders a little when they remember the first time they found out humans went all wrinkly in the water. They scrunch their nose when they recall what Kad’s skin felt like the first morning after he spent the night here - a feeling not easily forgotten, and one that made them choose to drain the extra bedroom at the very next opportunity. What an odd species these little humans are.

After a night like this, filled with so many things Eya does not want to think about any longer, they would usually choose water over anything else, but the fact that no other occupants are here makes their loneliness grow heavier. Even when there is no one in bed with them to hold them, it’s different knowing there are other people home. Right now, Eya is all alone in the dark even while they long to be held by a friend. Kad is off-planet, and so is the 501st. Marilys had the early shift and Eya does not want to wake her; it would be selfish. There is no one here they could ask for comfort. Everyone is fighting on different fronts.

The thought of the war makes Eya’s heart crack until they feel like they can barely stay upright. And so, it is not water they choose, but company.

Jaster barely raises his head when Eya pads into the dry bedroom they nearly never use when they sleep alone. He has claimed this room for himself; this small corner that barely fits the huge bed Eya needs, since this and the communal areas are some of the only areas not completely flooded with water. Jaster blinks tiredly when Eya’s shadow falls across the room, trying to keep their steps as quiet as their broad frame allows. A small purr escapes his chest when he recognises their scent.

Eya lifts the tiny loth-cat up so they can plop down onto the bed without squishing him.

“Hey there, little man,” they sigh, burying their face in Jaster’s soft, dark fur.

They don’t know when they started talking to him - they always have; even as a kid. Talked Basic to him back when their accent was so atrocious they didn’t dare speak in front of anyone else. Jaster blinks calmly at the ruckus that they are making in spite of their best efforts, then curls up on Eya’s broad chest when they have settled into the bed. Eya smiles, though they can barely keep their eyes open.

“I’ve missed you, utreekov.”

Jaster meows indignantly. Sometimes Eya swears he understands them.

“Yeah yeah, sorry. You know I don’t mean it, little one… Hope you had a good time without me.” Eya cards their fingers through his fur, the softness of it so familiar to them. “Where’d all the others go, hm? ‘s too early for them to be gone for the day, too late for them to still be out.” Eya yawns more than they actually talk, but Jaster doesn’t mind one bit. He stretches, flashing his sharp teeth at Eya, who flashes theirs back.

Jaster’s purrs spread deep into Eya’s chest, calming them. This is home. Jaster always makes them feel like this - safe, and warm. Eya runs their fingers through his soft fur, up and down, up… and down.

Their eyes fall shut as they drift off to sleep, Jaster’s small cat-face pressed into the crook of their neck.

*****

There is a warm, light weight on Kyreya’s chest when they wake up, a comforting presence that rises and falls with each breath from their dry lungs. Half-awake, Eya grumbles something and is rewarded with Jaster’s high meowing.

“Me’coopani, pel’ika?” Their voice is barely more than a rumble in their chest, but Jaster starts to purr with renewed fervour.

“Ke nuhoyi tug’yc, utreekov,” Eya yawns. “Naas’au. Nay var su.”

Bones cracking as they stretch, they nearly fall off the bed. Cursing quietly, they pick up Jaster and place him on the pillow beside them, adjusting so that their nose is pressed into his soft, dark fur. From this close, Jaster’s purring sounds nearly like waves crashing around them, and Eya falls back asleep with Jaster snuggled up close to them, leaning into their warmth.

“Jaster!” The voice seems familiar, but wrong. Too young. When Eya looks down, their hands are nearly unscarred, and there’s no hollow weight in their skull, no whirring vibrating within an empty eye socket as they look up to take in their surroundings. Their mouth moves without being told to do so.

“Jaster, k’olar! Buir ven’kaden… Jaster!”

A tiny little furball barrels towards their feet, tripping over itself trying to climb up their leg. Eya grimaces more out of habit than actual pain, their tendrils fluttering in the air with amusement as the small dark furball of a loth-cat settles on their shoulders, tiny head nudging their jaw. Eya moves their tendrils to wrap around the cat on their shoulder, keeping it safe as they make their way across the artificial meadow. Their headtails swing in step… All of them.

Eya’s breath hitches. Tears fill their eyes when they look down to find themself fully intact, both of their frontal tendrils resting on their chest. Short, yes, shorter than they have been in years, but… they are here. Nothing bad has happened, it was just a nightmare. Just a bad dream. Eya is okay.

Before they can think too much about it, a voice long forgotten sounds across the air bubble in which the artificial gardens of Glee Anselm lie, calling Eya home, even if it is by a different name.

“Ne’kho! Yaim’ola! Jaster… Iviin’yc, vod, buir pare! Jaster! Ne’kho!”

Sharp claws bury into Eya’s soft palm and rip them from their dream. They growl, hissing at the little shadow that is pressing against their hand.

“Gev, Jaster- gev, GEV- stop it, for fucks sake!”

Jaster lazily blinks up at them as he finally retracts his long claws, leaving three tiny puncture wounds in Eya’s pink palm.

“Little idiot,” Eya mumbles. “For once I have a nice dream, just one fucking time, and you wake me from it.”

They swear Jaster looks guilty when he climbs up on their chest and curls up right on their middle heart. Eya sighs.

“Don’t give me those eyes, Jaster. They may have worked when you and I were wee, but they don’t anymore. You’ve grown old.” They yawn, some bones in their spine shifting back into place as they inhale deeply. “…and so have I, apparently.”

Eya lets out an indignant snort when Jaster meows in agreement. Their tendrils twitch, their long frontal lek wrapping around Jaster’s small, soft form. With the movement, the dream comes flooding back in full force: It wasn’t a dream, not really. It is memory, long lost in their subconscious. Only a few weeks after they’d gotten Jaster from the shelter, the first time Eya had been allowed to go to the Gardens with him alone. Their brother’s voice, calling Eya by a name they haven’t heard in years and years. The name their parents gave them. Ne’kho.

Eya whispers it, tries to wrap their tongue around the vowels that should feel so familiar and finds nothing but pain and loss. Jaster shifts on their chest, pulling them back to the here and now.

“Yes, yes,” Eya murmurs absently. “I know you know that name. Doesn’t belong to me anymore. Ne’kho died long ago.”

Jaster meows sadly, tapping his paw against Eya’s clavicle. The gesture makes them smile.

“No matter how old you get, you’ll always be a hungry, hoggish little furball, huh?” They grin, just barely, the missing weight of their lost headtail still heavy on their chest even as the dream fades into the background of their mind. Jaster yawns, claws digging into Eya’s skin until they yelp and concede, finally getting up even though they feel like they could sleep for a million years more.

“Come on then, pel’ika. Let’s get you some food.”

───── ⋆⋅𑁍⋅⋆ ───── Mando'a translations:

pel'ika, drashaa ruug'la - little soft one, you are growing old utreekov – emptyhead Me coopani, pel’ika - What do you want, little soft one? Ke nuhoyi, utreekov - Go back to sleep, idiot. Naas’au. Nay var su. - There’s no light. It’s too early still. Jaster, k’olar! Buir ven’kaden… Jaster! - Jaster, come here! Mother will be mad… Jaster! Ne’kho! Yaim’ola! Jaster… Iviin’yc, vod, buir pare! - Ne’kho! Come home! Jaster… Quick, “sibling”, mother is waiting! Gev - stop it!

this chapter was a long time coming, i was honestly just stuck on making jaster's design work because I wanted a visual for the old lad to go with this. i hope you love him as much as i do! ❥

taggies for the usual suspects (i adore you all)

@deewithani @ficsbynight @kote-wan @ariadnes-red-thread @rescuethewretched @twistedstitcher27 @asaucecoveredsomething @kakashibabe02 @writingbylee @purgetrooperfox @basilbumble @witchklng @lackofhonor @ashotofspotchka @sailor-blossom @misogirl828 @amyroswell @darkjedipoptarts @pinkiemme @sleepingsun501 @fett-djarin @samanthacookieone @tortor-mcgee @corrabell @lady--kenobi @elegantduckturtle @felinaone @palpipeen @wild-karrde @kik51199 @sharpbarnacle @obeydontstray @rain-on-kamino @nomercyforthewarrior @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @thefact0rygirl @everythingyouwanted @equalityforcats @cagrame @ladykatakuri @ulchabhangorm @damerondala @tachyon-girl @lucyysthings

[djarrex]

From Where We Stand (series ML)

Post-Stasis!Kix x f!OC

***This series is for 18+ peeps only***

| series announcement / teaser |

Series Rating: Mature // Explicit

First chapter was posted on: October 8th, 2021

Status: in progress

Series Summary: Fifty years succeeding the Clone Wars, the Crimson Corsair and his pirate crew set out to scour the wreckage of a ship that had belonged to a political head of the former Confederacy of Independent Systems - where Jedi treasures were said to have been onboard when it had crashed. What the crew finds, however, is definitely not what had been rumored to be there. Going forward, Ahri, one of the remaining members of the pirate crew, silently struggles with the loss of their captain, but decides to put all her focus in getting accustomed to their newest member - the intriguing clone trooper they'd awoken from stasis while onboard the dated wreckage. Through common interests and an instant connection Ahri and the trooper grow close - closer than she wanted to allow herself - while the crew lays low for the following few weeks in hopes that their captain may make a miraculous return. Ahri's unsure past feelings towards the captain and newfound feelings towards the clone trooper collide as the crew navigates through the Outer Rim in search of forgotten Separatist treasures with the assistance of the man who had lived through it all back then - the same trooper who must come to terms with waking up in the future as well as realizing his own feelings towards one of the people who'd found him.

| main masterlist | read on ao3 |

<<< Updated: November 23rd 2021 >>>

Chapter 1: Fool's Gold

The Crimson Corsair's pirate crew follows a tip that was supposed to lead them to lost treasures hidden onboard a fifty-year-old wreckage, but what they find instead of kyber crystals shocks them all.

Chapter 2: Too Late

Ahri silently struggles with the crew's loss - with her loss - but when the mysterious man regains consciousness, her focus pleasantly shifts.

Chapter 3: Back for More

Strange feelings and mixed emotions flood Ahri’s system as she, her crew, and Kix make the trek back to town.

Chapter 4: Recollection

Bits and pieces of Kix's memory start coming back to him, and even though he has many questions that have yet to be answered, he decides to put his focus on other things - on someone in particular.

[elismor]

Hellooo <3. For the Sensory prompts, how about:

5. Trying to walk on ice. With your darling Flood and anyone else (or more than one), from the 212th, of your choosing?

:D

@cacodaemonia also requested this one, so you guys have to share. :)

[a-dorin]

“you should have seen the other guy”

pairing: captain rex x female!reader

word count: 737

warnings: cursing, references to battle, rex drugged up on pain meds, fluff, pining

a/n: hello! it’s been so long since i’ve written for rex & i was a little insecure about this one! also, this is the debut of one of my clone ocs, bull! i hope you guys like him :’) i hope i gave this prompt enough justice anon !!! enjoy :))

prompt:  “hope im not too late but oh stars may i present to you my request: rex. doped up on meds from a nasty injury. you go see him in the med bay. hes just mumbling stuff like ‘s’my pretty girl’ and other sappy babblings. he just wants you and is being so clingy. poor baby doesnt even know what he’s saying and he’s making you blush. i love him your honor”

“he’s ready for visitors now,” kix clears his throat, discarding a pair of gloves to the nearest waste receptacle, “please, be cautious, all right? don’t go pestering him about the incident. i don’t need him lashin’ out on me again.”

“was he aggressive?” a clone trooper scoffs, folding his arms across his chest, “or are ya just a little bit nervous around the captain?”

“he has a nasty right hook if that’s what you mean, bull,” kix sneers, pressing a few fingers to his jaw, “it took me hours to get him to settle down.”

“maker,” a quiet gasp tumbles from your lips, “are you all right kix?”

“looks like the medic needs some medical attention,” bull teases, chuckling, “do you need a cold compress for your little bruise there, medic?”

“the next time you charge into battle like a fool and need my medical attention,” kix marches up to the burly trooper, thrusting an index finger into his chest plate, “i’ll ignore you and watch as you bleed onto the earth of whatever kriffin’ planet we’re on, all right?”

“i hear you loud and clear,” a devilish smirks creeps onto bull’s lips, “i know ya don’t mean it though, kix.”

“i hate you.” kix mutters, swiveling on his heel, “i’ll be floatin’ around if you need me.”

“thank you,” you place a gentle hand on the medic’s forearm, “don’t listen to bull. he teases everyone in the 501st. even a jedi like me.”

“he needs to learn some proper manners,” kix grumbles, “and of course. i would do anything for my brothers.”

“would you like me to go in there with ya?” bull perks up, straightening in his armor. 

“perhaps i should go alone,” you murmur, “i don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“whatever you say,” bull waves a hand, clambering over to kix as the medic hovers over a cart, straightening out supplies. 

sucking in a sharp breath, you make your way into the enclosed space, the sterile light of the medbay bouncing off the shiny floors. the surrounding air was cold, piercing through your robes to the bone. 

at the sight of him, your heart nearly skips a beat.

a thin, stark white sheet drapes over his frame, covering the thick layer of gauze and tape wrapped around his torso. his thick lashes flutter as he fights sleep, the meds kicking in, lower lip quivering. at the sound of your steps, he perks up, a wide, dopey grin plastering his features. 

“it’s you.”

“how are you feeling?” your lips curve into a shy smile, your hand gingerly resting on top of his, “you’re not hurting, are you?”

“nothin’ i haven’t been through before,” the words are slurred, each vowel and consonant enunciated, “maker, am i so happy to see you.”

bringing his hand to your lips, you press his soft skin against plush flush, “i don’t know what i’d do if something happened to you, rex.”

“don’t gotta worry about me baby,” he coos, lids drooping as a hoarse chuckle echoes through the space, “imma captain.”

“i know you’re a captain,” the smile broadens, “i worry about you, though.”

“you don’t gotta worry,” he shakes his head slightly, a fresh cut on his right cheekbone, “i wouldn’t let anythin’ happen to ya.”

“i was talking about you.”

rex wrinkles his nose, “i don’t wanna talk about me. i wanna talk about my pretty girl.”

“rex,” his name is gentle as you settle into a stool beside the cot, “you’re not going to remember any of this.”

his fingers lace with yours, squeezing lightly, “yes i will. i’ll remember that my pretty girl came an’ visited me. s’my pretty girl came n’ saw me.”

“am i your pretty girl?” you can’t help but inquire, a blush painting your cheeks a rosy hue. 

“you’ve always been my pretty girl.”

you nearly melt in that moment. 

“can you come closer?” his voice floods your ears once more, “i wanna hold my girl n’ cuddle.”

“we can’t cuddle rex,” you exhale, holding his hand in both of yours now, “i don’t wanna hurt you.”

“you can’t hurt me,” rex protests, his tone firm, “i don’t get hurt.”

“rex, you sustained a few pieces of shrapnel to your chest,” you state, your voice wavering, “it wasn’t pretty.”

rex huffs, earning a giggle to bubble up in your throat.

“well, if it wasn’t pretty, you should have seen the other guy.”

[herald-divine-hell]

A Meeting of Kindness

A/N: So, this fanfic is with @noeldressari‘s Talia Cousland and Amayia as padawans in a Star Wars AU. I’m sorry if Talia isn’t all that accurate to her actual character. I’m really bad at doing that with other people’s ocs asldkada. But I hope you all enjoy!

-

As night gathered in the skies of Coruscant, light flickered awake in a sea of silver and amber, the underglow of rolling clouds burnt with silvery-gold. Streaking smoky-silver and scarlet lines blurred as taxi-pods and shuttles zipped across the air, a constant buzzing hum as clusters of stars peaked and winked in the dark mantle. 

A wind picked up from the north, bringing the scent of a metallic-soaked chilled air to Amayia’s senses, shuffling her thick robes, lightsaber hilt rattling against her thigh. Fingers sprayed across a wide stone surface, one of the few remaining in the metropolis-planet. A white marble that glowed with the orange-gold fires of the sun during the day and the icy silver waters of moonlight by night. 

Coruscant still dazzled her, even though it would have been nearly two decades since she had joined the Jedi Order as a padawan. At night, a new world blossomed from the brilliant glow of the day. Though fires sparkled through countless windows and ledges, as transmission towers flared and in and outgoing ships whined through the atmosphere with the glow of shooting stars, a peace settled onto Amayia’s shoulders; a peace she had not known since she was a child waiting at her mother’s knee to hear some fable story. Only at night did the concerns of the war bleed away from her mind, only at night could she hear the Force settle from its conflict. Light and dark dwindled to a single strung hum, then another, until a melody whispered in her mind, flooded her soul. Thundering battle fled away, the screams of dying men, women, and children fading away until there was only her and the Force, an old ally, and an older friend. 

“You should be getting some rest.”

Amayia’s eyes turned away from the thicket of towering skyscrapers, gleaming silver-white by strands of starlight, the horizon threaded with their soft flicker. Yellow-white light pooled from beyond in the curved archway, lines of columns marching deeper into the Temple like rows of soldiers. A few golden and bronze statues of ancient Jedi flanked the sides of the entrance of the pathway, staring out into the dark city with serene expressions, some with firm, dignified features, others with kindly smiles and eyes. 

Light bathed about Talia’s form as if the Force pulsed off her in waves, lighting a sheen over her long brown hair, shadows scurrying about her features, heightening her sharp cheekbones, softening her shyly smiling lips. Vivid blue eyes glimmered with silver and scarlet and azure, reflections of the city beyond, twirling about like swirling jewels in a sea. In her hands were two porcelain cups with thin plums of white-gray smoke streaming until it faded away into the darkness. 

“I like to take walks before every mission,” replied Amayia, turning a little to face the Padawan that was assigned to her. Tomorrow they would be leaving to take up commands as leaders of two squadrons of clone troopers, in hopes of infiltrating a Separatist base and gathering intel before a full on ground assault and occupation could occur. The first time Amayia was allowed a command of her own without her master’s presence. Any trickle of fear never roused in her heart. She would do what she must. Amayia had learned that a long time ago. 

And yet...she never was partnered with another Padawan, and never alone. Master Or-Lan had always been careful in choosing where Amayia was sent, and who she went with, if he could not attend. A few with Jedi Knights, often in escort missions for departing senators in dangerous sectors. More often with just her master himself and his legion, the 406th. Amayia knew she was not the greatest communicator, never truly able to grasp the understanding of emotions, especially when it was inflicted hard by others. Master Or-Lan did, though, and tried for years to get her to connect, through the Force or not. But she never can. Whenever she did try to touch another’s emotions, the Force skirted away, like water sloshing up against the side of a dam, never able to pass through. She could still sense it, however; the rage and sadness of a mother or father who lost their child from a bombing run. Yet when she tried to ease them, to bring peace to their trembling, rage-scorched hearts, the barrier sprawled like spun webs, thickening into a wall stronger than steel, with no gaps to break through. Worried did not fill her, the Force a soothing, constant current through her veins, but she knew that any comfort to the locals on the planet they would be heading toward will be lost on her. 

Perhaps that is why Master Or-Lan and Master Findrall choose her to be paired with Talia Cousland. She had only heard her in passing from muttering Jedi in classes, frustration mixed with high praise. She was highly skilled in battle, though aggressive, with her sharp and savage cuts, barreling charges, and overwhelming advance. A few whispers from other Padawans muttered how she could hold a whole battalion of battle droids on her own, and from her appearance, Amayia was sure she could. Long, thick, and straight brown hair fell down to the small of her back, a few strands framing her strong jaw, with its chiseled and sharp jawline. High cheekbones reared proudly on a noble face, but there still was a softness to her, at her lips and in her eyes. A faint blush nestled her pale cheeks, puffs of cool air misted past her lips. Northern wind stirred her long locks until it shivered like a banner of brown toward the west, drips of gold glimmering across like waves. Broad shoulders were covered in a thick brown outer cloak, with the loose fitted sandy-brown robes shrouding the sturdy body beneath. High brown boots crawled up to her knees, and a flash of silver glimmered when Talia shifted a little, making her way toward Amayia. 

“That’s fair,” replied Talia, as she strode to her side, her gaze flickering toward the city. “We’re leaving tomorrow, though. Will you be walking again?” 

Amayia nodded and turned back toward the city, returning both hands onto the wide cool surface. “I’ll be meditating in the gardens before we depart after my walk, if you wish to join me, Padawan Talia.” The words felt clumsy to her, even as her voice carried it still in an even tone. Small talk was never her element. 

The blush seemed to grow on her cheeks, the silver and gold wash of star and city bringing it out so brightly it appeared to overwhelm Talia. Her smile grew a bit, one she flashed at Amayia as she rested the two cups on the balcony still, elbows resting as she leaned forward. “I just might. And, please, call me Talia. No need for formalities when we’ll be guarding one another’s backs.”

A touch of warmth tickled Amayia’s cheeks as she dwindled her thumbs together. Despite her clumsy nature with her emotions, a bubble of fire flickered in her heart at the gentle glow in Talia’s eyes, a determined, sweet, and kind sunflare that spun a thousand diamonds with speared light. Her master often joked that Amayia could never smile, but after a sudden realization, she felt her lips curling into one. “Yes,” admitted Amayia, nodding a bit as gaze returned to the light-blurred skies and sparsely clouded skies. “That will be a good endeavor.” 

At the corner of her eye, she saw Talia testing the name in silence, her smile never leaving her even then. Though, her shoulders did seem to lessen its tension with Amayia’s agreement. Was she afraid that she would have said no? The possibility was strong. She never was particularly close with any of her fellow Padawans, even less than any of the Masters, except for her own. But Amayia still saw the practicality of using only their names to communicate. It was less of a mouthful to say, such allowing greater ability for success-

No, she thought, a shiver of anger rustling across the river of the Force which rolled through her. She was only asking for you to treat her as an equal, a partner. It had nothing to do with the outcome of success for the mission, she had to tell herself, her Master’s voice whistling through her mind, tilted with disappointment. 

“Hot chocolate?” asked Talia suddenly, nudging the cup toward her. 

Amayia blinked, torn away from her thoughts, a ripple of discontent skidding across the calming Force. “Hot chocolate?” Her eyes flickered to the silver-glinting cup, the steam still swirling in waning pillars. Grasping the cup in her hands, gloved fingers brushing over Talia’s, she whispered her thanks as she pulled it close to her chest. Raising and tipping the drink, warmth flooded her body, thawing the night’s chill grasp from her bones. Sweetness overwhelmed her, in a way that she had not felt in many years, and she drank it heavily.

“Like it?” Talia sipped hers, a bit more slower than Amayia’s but a touch heavier. Sighing as she pulled the cup from her lips, her smile seemed more calming than shy. “Hot chocolate is one of my favorite drinks.”

“It is mine as well,” admitted Amayia, the smile from before caressing her face, as the embarrassment burned away by the sweetness of the hot chocolate and the soothing sight of Talia’s smile. It was a pretty smile, matching well with her good-humored eyes. Talia would be good to have when it would come to comforting masses, to ensure cooperation instead of resistance against Republic occupation. Even if her emotions swayed her, perhaps that was why their masters pushed them together on this mission. Amayia knew she was cold, knew she was calculating. She was told over and over again she was what a Jedi ought to be. Emotions did not cloud her judgement, and that was the Jedi way. 

But the Jedi way was also to bring peace, and Talia’s smile brought a waterfall of calm washing over Amayia. Was that not also what the Jedi stood for? Bringing comfort and peace to otherwise death-torn, darkened worlds that were tainted by the Dark Side, tainted by slaughter and destruction? Questions swirled in her mind, but what stood as bright as the stars from the gloomy sea, was Talia’s eyes. So bright and vivid, bursting with life, with kindness. The warmth of before came rushing stronger to her cheeks. 

Talia bowed her head. “I should let you get back to your walk.” She drank her coffee, the pink on her cheeks a bright scarlet now, rushing over her features like a fire-burning cloud. “See you tomorrow, for our walk that is.” 

Smiling back at her, Amayia also bowed. “Thank you for the drink, Talia. I will see you tomorrow, for the walk and the mission. It is an honor to be paired with you.”

A little chuckle came from the other Padawan as she scrubbed the back of her neck. “The honor is all mine, Amayia. And the hot chocolate was nothing. Everyone loves hot chocolate, right?” Her laughter grew a bit more, the fire on her face deepening. “But, yeah...It was good to finally meet you!” She stared for a moment, mouth open as if she wanted to say more. “Right, bed. Walking. Um. Well, goodnight!”

The flapping of her cloak filled the air as Talia rushed back toward the entrance way. Amayia’s stare followed the woman’s departing form, the cloak shivering over her broad back, as if straining as the woman walked back a bit hunched over. 

It was only until she departed to her quarters did Amayia realize that her smile never did leave her face. 

[morganas-pendragons]

Dancing With Your Ghosts | Prologue

This story features an OC of mine - Emma Skywalker - who is married to Luke and was the daughter of Obi-Wan. Her mother is also mentioned. For sake of it, she and Leia are Generals who oversee The Rebellion. The Jedi!Reader has psychometry. 

This is my first clone related series besides Child Soldiers (which, so you know, is getting updated soon) and I asked who’d like to be tagged because I am so excited to write it! I know clone fic isn’t super.. in demand at the moment, but I haven’t felt motivated to write for them in forever, so I hope this gives those of you who are here something to say about it!

if you’d like to be tagged, let me know!

tag: @nelba / @mickeymouse-moshpit​/ @iamassbuttkingofhell / @majorshiraharu / @fractiouskat​ / @libradusk​ / @generic-geek-girl​ / @obi-bae-kenobi​ / @sacred-things​ / @midnightredemption​ / @thatbitchfromkamino​ / @captainrexsbiggesthoe​ / @littlevodika​

It’s a quiet day when Emma receives the intel about the clone trooper. He’s been asleep in cryo-stasis for fifty years. Worlds have come and gone since he went to sleep. People have turned to ash and have bid this galaxy farewell. 

His brothers. All of them. 

The men who died for a lie. 

The reports call him Kix. You hadn’t been apart of the retrieval team sent to the wreckage of the Separatist ship when Emma and Leia had been sent the data about him. You knew nothing except what you’d read in his report that had been composed before the fall of the Old Republic. 

CLONE TROOPER KIX - CT 6116

MEDIC TO THE 501ST ATTACK LEGION 

JEDI GENERAL: ANAKIN SKYWALKER 

SUSPECTED TREASON AGAINST CHANCELLOR PALPATINE 

STATUS: MIA 

commentary from his jedi: Kix is the best medic I have seen during the entire war. Attentive and intuitive, his sharp mind and even softer heart have gotten many of my men through their injuries and back onto the front lines of the battlefield. He gives so much of himself that we often forget he’s just as breakable as the rest of us. - a.t. 

another side note from his ‘’other’’ jedi: rex said if kix doesn’t sleep tonight, i’m to drug him - how? who knows, we are not cowards here - but i see his concern, kix doesn’t know how to take care of himself - a.t.

BONUS: He really just needs to be reminded to take care of himself. One of the best men and medics the GAR has. 

You ran your fingertips over the picture that was displayed on your data pad. He seemed.. sweet. Haunted. Innocent. Like the war had made him into who he was.. and he had never really gotten to be anything other then that. Kix was supposed to be someone who saved people. 

He couldn’t save everyone. 

You understood that better then most. 

  “You tighten your fingers around that saber anymore then you already are, and you’re going to have sore fingers.” Emma lightly teased as she joined your side where you stood waiting in the hangar. General Skywalker had taken you on as her Apprentice upon meeting you on (insert planet) and having seen your skill with a blade. All you had of your former life was your saber and your name. “Are you alright, vod’ika?” 

Her father had been fluent in Mando’a, and so had she. It was only logical that she passed it onto you. 

  “I worry about this clone.” You murmur. You often wonder how the Jedi of Old were able to walk throughout their lives without having any attachment - because now here you stand mere moments away from meeting a man, a legend, who is going to wake up and realize how alone he is - and the thought of Kix being lost in a world so unlike the one he came from makes your heart ache. “I’ve been lost in the galaxy before.. before you found me, General.” 

  “You have an unique gift.” Emma replied. “Psychometry was rare in the times of the Jedi Order, and your gift proves extremely beneficial to The Rebellion. You’ve made quite good progress since you arrived.” She nodded in the direction of the shuttle Poe and Finn had taken for the retrieval as the wings leveled and the wheels settled onto the landing platform. “I have high hopes for this clone just as I did for you. I imagine he’ll be the same.” 

He’s not a clone. 

You watch, expression contorted by your nerves, as the ramp descends and several technicians - along with the small contingent of soldiers who had accompanied Poe - gingerly move a hovering cryo-stasis chamber out into the open. 

He’s a man. 

Emma calls something out to Poe and the technicians on site as the pod lid opens. All the people present wait with baited breath for the hibernating clone within to stir and be welcomed back into the world. 

A brand new world. 

It’s hard to hide your gasp of surprise at the sight of the man who slowly sits up at the waist and peers around the hangar like a newborn child coming into the world. Dark tresses hang around his brow bone and frame sharp onyx eyes that are surveying the hangar as if he is trying to assess his surroundings and where he is. 

And then his eyes recognize the sight of people. Humans. 

  “Where am I?” He calls out. You stiffen at your sudden urge to rush forward and grasp his arm so his legs don’t give out, but Emma stops you and takes a tentative step forward. The two of you had spent a considerable amount of time talking about her past and her father’s dedication to his battalion during The Clone War. Emma Kenobi-Skywalker had grown up in a little hut with two legends - a mother and father who had lived and breathed for their Order and for each other - that had whispered stories of their fallen friends and soldiers, brothers in arms, underneath a blanket of stars. “This isn’t Anaxes.” 

  “You’re in The Rebel base, trooper.” Emma said. “Can you tell me your name?” 

  “Designation CT-6116-” 

  “No.” She shakes her head, and that’s Kix’s first clue that this jeti in front of him is not the typical jeti he encountered during the war. “I will not lower you to your designation number. I asked you your name.” 

He hesitates for a minute. You recognize that look. It’s one that only appears in what you believe to be a threat on your life. You are in enemy territory and one slip up costs you everything. 

You intend to ensure that he doesn’t believe that to be the case here. That he woke up in a new world, that he is safe, and he can fight in this war if he so chooses to. You refuse to let the Generals coerce him into fighting another war that isn’t his to fight. 

  “Kix. My name is Kix.” 

Emma smiles then. “It’s nice to meet you, baar’ur.” She greets, pushing loose blonde hair behind her shoulders as she slowly approaches where he stands trembling beside the pod that has kept him safe since the ship he was captured on crashed. “My name is Emma. Emma Skywalker.” 

Your eyes catch Kix’s then. His own flicker to the lightsabers fastened on your hips and then slowly shift back to General Skywalker who has yet to show a glimpse of reluctance in her expression. She is nothing but open and welcome to him. Something he will desperately need. 

  “Are you..” He swallows the knot in his throat. It’s still such a sore topic to remember his aliit. He just needs to get back to them- “Are you related to Anakin Skywalker?” 

  “He was my father’s best friend. My father was Obi-Wan Kenobi and my mother was Opal Stone.” Kix’s eyes flood with tears that he struggles to keep contained at the mention of a jeti who had been his best friend throughout nearly the entire war. Opal Kenobi would’ve gone to hell and back to keep him and his vode safe. “You can call me Emma.” 

Breathless and awed by how composed he is, you keep walking forward despite Poe’s insistent call of your name, and you remove your gloves to lay your fingertips against Kix’s armor. You cannot see the past - or the story - of the person you touch without there being something for you to pull the memories from. 

  “No, wait-” 

Clone armor has hundreds if not thousands of memories written into its design. Bloodshed and brokenness and the rattling, rasping cries of dying brothers as they fumble for grasps on their vode’s armor and suddenly lose their ability to breathe. 

When you touch Kix - the clone medic pulled from time itself - the world around you disappears, and you’re thrown right into the devastation of The Clone Wars. Psychometry really is a fascinating Force ability at its root because of how unpredictable it is, but even in spite of that, you are still privy to some of the most devastating events you have ever seen in your life. There is laughter and joy, sorrow and heartbreak, funeral pyre upon funeral pyre on a world so overcome by shadow that you can hardly see the fires that are lit, the anguish of a brother and the blood that stains his hands. 

And then there’s nothing but screaming and the cold. 

Kix jerks backward like he’s been burnt. So do you. 

   “Jedi, what did you see?” 

You don’t even react to the fact he called you a Jedi. You’ve tried your best to carry on the legacy of a long dead religion because it gave you a purpose in this world, a purpose in this fight against The First Order.. but you consider yourself a poor imitation compared to the figures swathed in Light that you’d seen running through Kix’s memories. 

Because despite the darkness and the fire and the overwhelming torture that has been his entire existence, Kix has always felt one thing inside. 

It’s what he had to be in the face of the war. War is not kind to those who are soft hearted. 

  “Te ciryc bal te dha.” 

The cold and the dark. 

[yeenybeanies]

A Little Lost

it’s star wars day!! what a fine day to have my heart torn from my chest with the clone wars finale :’) WELL THIS IS VERY OLD LMAO it’s been in my drafts since may 4th i did not proofread this & i probably will not do so until tomorrow EDIT i have proofread it & made my tweaks & it is Good To Go :>

star wars | rex & pomfree ( oc ) 

4,395 words

mild language warnings

reblogs > likes!! feel free to leave comments in the tags!! thanks!!

Breathe! Air and dust and dirt rush into his lungs. The clone jolts, consciousness returning like a punch to the face. If only it was a simple punch that knocked him out, though. That would have been way less painful . . ..

Soft grunts and groans fill the air as the clone trooper pulls himself from the him-shaped indentation in the dirt. He can still stand. He can move his arms and his back and his neck. Nothing seems broken ( miraculously ), but everything is sore regardless.

“ This is Captain Rex; can anyone hear me? I was––– ”  static. He looks down to the comlink on his forearm, all the buttons smashed and broken. Useless. He grimaces, then turns his attention to the surrounding jungle. Where is he? Where’s the ship? . . . Where is his helmet? A cursory glance at his immediate surroundings shows no signs of the blue-painted headgear.

Rex stands up with a final groan and takes a few steps, searching for signs of––well, of anything. Smoke, blaster fire, voices, tracks . . .. The ship was going down, and he fell out of it before it crashed. Surely it’s not too far off. He curses a little under his breath; the jungle canopies of this planet are too damn high and thick for him to be able to see anything more than a few feet away. The only option now, as far as he can see, is to start walking in the direction he thinks the ship landed in.

“ Hello? Anyone out there? ”  Even cupping his hands around his mouth doesn’t help his yells travel very far. The jungle is tight. It’s a hassle just to walk around. Rex grumbles as his boot catches on a ground vine for the umpteenth time. He hasn’t tripped yet, but––ack! Spoke too soon. Just seconds later, he’s snagged again, and falls forward, onto his hands and knees. Teeth clenched, the trooper slams a fist into the spongy jungle floor, allowing his frustration to vent for just a moment. How the hell is he going to get out of this one?

Calm. He needs to be calm. Getting mad isn’t going to solve anything. ( Blast, he sounds like a Jedi. ) Rex takes a breath and tugs his foot free yet again. He shifts himself into a crouch, runs a hand over his short, blond hair, and tries once more to assess his surroundings. In every direction, there is just more jungle. But––oh? He catches a glimpse of white amidst all the green undergrowth to his right. One brow raised, Rex pushes his way through the brush to investigate. He parts the vines and leaves and finds . . . yes! His helmet! At least something is going his way in this god-forsaken jungle. Rex leans forward to pick the familiar item up, silently praising that he managed to stumble across it ( literally ). As he brings it to his head to put it on, though, a startled cry makes him jump. Rex looks up to see a little . . . creature dangling from the helmet lip. It screams when it looks at him, and he yelps right back, immediately dropping both it and the helmet. The latter clatters to the jungle floor, but the former––unexpectedly, the former drifts down in a much more controlled manner, gliding on thin membranes––or perhaps clothing––between its arms & legs. It lands a few feet away and stares up at Rex, eyes wide.

What the hell?

Rex stares back for a long moment. It . . . isn’t running away. It’s not attacking either, though. It’s a curious-looking little thing. It looks almost human, though significantly smaller––maybe five, six inches tall at most. Slowly, tentatively, Rex kneels down to retrieve his helmet, though he doesn’t take his eyes off of the creature.

“ Easy now . . . ”  he says, hoping to placate any potential hostilities.  “ Not gonna hurt you. I’m with the Grand Army of the Republic. ”  Hell, he doesn’t even know if the damn thing speaks Basic.

“ You are a clone. ”  Ah. So it does speak. Rex blinks, a little surprised, but nods his head. The creature looks up, way up to the high canopies.  “ You came from the crashed ship? ” 

“ Huh––erm, yeah. Yeah, I, uh, fell out of it. Did you see where it landed? ”  A spark of hope flares up in his chest. This little critter might be the key to finding his comrades!

They shake their head––a gesture that nearly goes unnoticed due to their size.  “ Knocked me down from the top when it came through. Best way to see would be . . .. ”  They point up. This time, Rex follows their gaze, confused. 

The top? This thing was at the top? The trees have to be a couple hundred feet high! How could they have gotten all the way up there? So many questions flood the trooper’s mind, but he shakes his head. Focus.

“ I gotta climb all the way up there? ”  The very thought is daunting. ( Really, how could something so small make it up there? ) Rex gives the creature a disbelieving look, but they just nod right back at him.

“ It is the best chance, ”  they assure.  “ I need to go up too. It’s dangerous down here for us. I need to get back home. ” 

Rex narrows his eyes.  “ So what you really need is for me to take you up there. There’s no benefit at all for me. Just a waste of time. ” 

“ No! ”  The creature waves their little hands, alarmed.  “ No! You really can see! And it’s easier to move up there! ”  There’s obvious panic in their voice, but Rex isn’t sure if it’s because of him, or because he might leave them. He rolls his eyes and takes another look up the giant tree trunks.

One thing is for certain: he cannot see anything down there. Flares wouldn’t go above the treetops either, so they’d be useless from the ground. Rex contemplates, tossing the idea around in his head, and wrinkles his nose when he reaches a decision.

“ Alright. I’m going up there. I’ll take you too, but if this turns out to be for nothing, I’m gonna drop you back down. ”  It’s an empty threat––something the little creature quickly picks up on. They beam up at him, looking just elated. Rex dons his ( now unoccupied ) helmet and . . .––well, he isn’t sure if he should just grab them, or if he should go about carrying them some other way. Thankfully, they solve the problem for him. They’re fast; they race to his boot and scale his leg like it’s nothing, and then the rest of him, all the way up to his shoulder pauldron. He wasn’t expecting that, but . . . it works.

“ Right . . .. Hold on tight. ”  Rex pulls a blaster from his holster and attaches an ascension cable. The lowest branch on the tree before him is . . . still pretty damn high up. His grimace deepens; he isn’t sure that the cable is long enough to reach, but he takes aim and shoots. It flies out with a hiss, racing parallel to the trunk for a good few seconds before . . . yes! It just barely reaches  the branch’s underside. Were Rex a few inches shorter, he’s not sure it would have made it. 

One last check to make sure the creature is secure on his shoulder ( somehow they seem even smaller up close ), then Rex starts the climb. He has to pull himself up the trunk a few steps so he can secure the cable to his belt, but then he’s able to activate the wench that gradually pulls them up.

“ So. ”  Even with the wench, it’s still going to take a while to scale a tree this tall. Rex keeps his eyes upward, but he does nod slightly towards his company.  “ Got a name? ” 

“ Yes. I am Pomfree. My friends call me Pom. ”

“ Pom. My name’s Rex. You, uh . . . you said you live up in the canopies? How’d you get up there to begin with? ”

“ Oh, my kind comes from up in the treetops. We are many tribes that have always been up there. Those that fall to the floor . . . ”  Rex feels them shudder,  “ usually they do not come back up. It is dangerous. And impossible for us to climb so far. ”

“ No kidding . . .. ”  Rex isn’t sure he would be able to climb this thing without an ascension cable, let alone someone like Pom.  “ You can glide, though, right? ”

“ Yes, but . . . ”  they pull one of the membranes from their sides––Rex can now see from his peripherals that it is indeed clothing––and show a stitched-up tear, presumably recent.  “ I tore it on a branch in the confusion, and I hit my head shortly after, so . . .. ”

So that’s how they got to the ground. Rex feels a pang of sympathy for the little creature. He knows all about being thrown into hostile environments, but he’s a soldier. Pom, he imagines, is not.

“ Why are you here? ”  Their question pulls Rex from his thoughts. He shoots them a glance, a brow raised under his helmet.

“ Told you: I fell from my ship while it was––– ”

“ No––why are you on our planet? We are not a part of the war . . . are we? ”  There’s a twinge of fear in their voice––something Rex is, unfortunately, quite familiar with. This terrible war has ravaged many planets.

“ Erm . . . well, the Separatists have established a fort here, despite your apparent neutrality, so we’ve come in to deal with it. ”  That’s putting things a little lightly. He doesn’t really want to scare Pom more.  “ It’s pretty far from here, though. Don’t think you’ll be seeing any part of it anytime soon––if at all. ”  Hopefully. Civilian casualties happen, but Rex still would like to minimize them wherever and whenever he can.

His answer seems to calm Pom, if only a little. They look up the cable that’s pulling them along. They’ve almost reached the branch. Once Rex gets a hold on it, Pom moves to somewhere a bit more stable so the clone can have his full range of motion and climb his way up to the branch’s top. It’s easier said than done; the damn thing is thicker than Rex is tall. He nearly slips once, and gets both of their hearts racing. He does assure Pom that he’s okay and he’s got them, and manages to make it to the dorsal surface. Thank God the bark is rough and filled with handholds.

They’re not even halfway up the tree, though. Rex cranes his neck, looking up at the vertical distance still ahead of them, and sighs. The droop of his shoulders makes Pom scramble for a moment to maintain balance.

“ This . . . is gonna take a while. ”  Dismayed but determined, the captain readies his cable again, takes aim, and shoots for the next-nearest branch, way high up. It’s going to take, he suspects, at least three or four more cable trips to get up to where they need to be.

Pom is fairly chatty, full of questions. Rex answers what he can. Being an older clone, he’s a bit more aware of the universe around him, and of the nuances of the war. The little being watches him with those wide, curious eyes, soaking up all he has to say. It’s cute, in a way; Rex just wishes he had more to tell them than stories and news about violence and suffering. He’s sorry that the war has come to this planet.

Once they reach the underside of the second branch, the two rinse and repeat as they’d done with the first. Rex expels a breath bordering on exasperation as he looks upward. Only now are they about halfway up the gigantic tree. He notices that, at their current height, their surroundings look different than they had on the jungle floor. It’s brighter, if only marginally so. The foliage is comprised more of leaves and vines, as opposed to the heavy roots and trunks and ferns on the jungle floor. Rex pushes past a curtain of moss as he walks along the bough, searching for another spot to aim his cable.

“ Wait. ”  Pom knocks their little fist on the side of the trooper’s helmet.

“ What? You see something? ”  He does not like the sudden worry in their voice. Reflexively he rests a hand on the hilt of one of his blasters.

“ No, I hear . . . –––get down! ” 

Rex ducks just in time. Mere moments after their warning, a beast erupts from the foliage, its claws and teeth just barely missing his head. Rex crawls forward a few feet and twists onto his seat. Whatever it is, it seems to be only about half the size of a man, but it is mean. It looks like an alien cross between feline and reptile, and sports two sets of climbing arms and a smaller set of what appear to be prey-grabbing arms. He doesn’t get to observe much more of it before it launches at him, all arms outstretched. Rex falls backward, letting the beast sail over him again. He quickly flips himself over and jumps to his feet, ready to move, when a sharp cry brings his attention back to his passenger. The little being clings to his pauldron, legs flailing. Dammit. He’d nearly forgotten about them in the–––

“ Look out! ” 

Rex throws up an arm just as the beast reaches him, its teeth clamping down on his gauntlet. A few reach his skin, but he pays it no mind, much more distracted by the claws slashing at him.

No . . ..

The beast isn’t aiming for him; it’s aiming for Pom! The little one yelps and struggles to maintain their hold amidst the panic and the pandemonium. Rex shoves the creature off with a heavy knee to its gut and, without really thinking, grabs Pom. They squeak and struggle in his hold, but he keeps firm. He turns and dashes to put some distance between them and the creature while its still recuperating, his free hand aiming the cable launcher upward. There isn’t any time to pick an optimal branch; he selects one that looks suitable enough, shoots, and starts ascending as soon as it hooks in.

“ I’ve gotcha, kid, ”  Rex says,  “ that thing isn’t gonna–––augh! ” 

Sharp pains pierce the flesh between his armor. The beast jumped up after them, and has its claws dug into his left leg. With both hands occupied, the trooper can only curse and kick at it, quickly growing desperate to shake it off. It’s not interested in him in the slightest; it’s trying to climb him to reach Pom, now held as far out as possible.

Bastard. Rex grits his teeth and rams his heel into the creature’s face. His grip on the blaster is starting to slip; he needs to ditch this thing fast.

“ Pom, I’m gonna throw you, ”  he says. He doesn’t give the little one any time to protest before he launches them upward. Their fear-filled yell doesn’t sit well with him, but he’s left with one hand free to grab his other blaster. He shoots the beast in the shoulder, making it shriek out in pain, and pistol whips it right along its temple. Its claws unhook from his person, leaving it to fall a few feet and land bodily onto a branch below. It’s still alive, but stunned, and hopefully convinced to leave them be. Rex watches it for a second, then snaps his head upwards, eyes searching the foliage.

“ Pom? “  He doesn’t see them, which sends a pang of worry through his brain. They fixed the tear in their gliding suit; surely they managed to slow their fall . . . right?  “ Where are you, kid?  That thing’s gone now. Pom? ” 

The longer the silence persists, the more unsettled Rex grows. He stops his ascent and pulls himself up the cable enough to hook it to his belt, then looks down to the branches below. The creature is nowhere to be seen, but the same can be said for Pom.

“ Hey, Pom! Come on, kid! Tell me you’re alright! ”  What if they fell back to the floor? What if the thing ultimately managed to snatch them and run off? Dank Farrik, what if–––

“ Rex! ”  The tiny voice snaps his attention upward. Relief washes over him when he spots them perched atop a branch several feet above him. They jump, gliders spread, and drift down towards him. He meets them with both hands outstretched, giving them a platform to land on. Immediately he can feel the shivers coursing through their body. Another pang spikes in his mind. Carefully, he draws them nearer.

“ Pom, I––listen, kid, I’m sorry. I should’a given you some more warning. You alright? ”  Other than their pallid features, they don’t look any worse for wear physically. They nod, still shaking.

“ It’s––n-no, I am okay. I am just . . . I have never seen a grekesa up close . . . and I never want to again. ”  They pull their gliders in and sit in his hands, hugging their knees to their chest. Rex presses his lips together. It does make him feel a little better to know that his actions didn’t scare them so much as the beast. As a soldier, he’s faced things far worse than that  “ grekesa, ”  but he recognizes that he is both battle-hardened and far to big for most things to make a meal out of. Pom would be but a snack.

“ I’ve got you, kid. We ought’a keep moving before another one shows up. “  Were that to happen, he’d drop the bastard where it stands. Rex deposits Pom onto his shoulder where they quickly huddle up to his neck, and resumes their ascent.

Pom is much quieter now, but, after a few minutes, Rex feels their tension start to ease. A part of him wants to reach up and comfort them, but he’s not sure how he’d do that. What, would he rub their back or shoulder with his finger? Give them a little hair ruffle? How would he comfort someone so small?

“ Thank you, ”  they say, drawing Rex from his thoughts.

“ Hm? What for? ” 

Pom shrugs, though the gesture goes unseen.  “ For saving me from the grekesa. For helping me get back home. ”

A tinge of warmth fills the trooper’s heart. He shakes his head.  “ Don’t mention it. In fact, don’t thank me just yet; we still have a ways to go before we get to the canopy. ”

As they climb ever higher into the treetops, Rex takes note of the drastic changes in scenery. The difference between the jungle floor and the upper levels is like night and day––literally. While the floor was quite dark, at this height, there isn’t nearly as much foliage to block out the sunlight. Something as simple as a bit of sun has Rex feeling more optimistic that he’ll be able to see his fallen ship when they reach the top.

Once they reach their next branch, Rex pauses a moment and removes his helmet. He’s mindful of Pom as he does so, careful not to jostle them too much. He fishes into one of his pockets to retrieve a rations bar. All of this crashing and climbing and fighting with local fauna has his stomach growling. Before he takes a bite, though, he breaks off a piece and offers it to his companion, who gratefully accepts.

“ Shouldn’t be too much longer, ”  Rex says after swallowing down a few bites.  “ One more good placement of the cable and we’ll be up near the top. Any of this starting to look familiar to you? ”

Pom finishes off their piece of ration, then stands up on the trooper’s shoulder, one hand to his neck for balance.  “ Hmm . . .. Not really. I have never left the canopy before. But . . .. ”  They leap from their perch, gliders unfolding. They drift over to a cluster of leaves on a neighboring branch. Rex watches with one brow raised as they inspect the branch, looking for who-knows-what.

“ Aha! ”  They declare. They hold up a leaf that, to Rex, looks like any other dead leaf. He blinks, confused.  “ This is from my tribe! We must be approaching one of the lower villages! ”

“ That leaf . . .? ”  He tilts his head, still lost.  “ How do you know it’s not just . . . some leaf? ”

“ Because! ”  Pom jumps and glides back to Rex, who holds out a hand for them to land on. They hold up the leaf to him.  “ Each tribe grows special leaves that we graft onto trees to mark our territories. This one––see these? ”  they point to the veins in the leaf, which swirl in intricate patterns.  “ Over the generations, my tribe has designed this pattern and color. It is unique to us. ”

“ Uh hunh . . .. ”  Rex squints. Upon closer inspection, it does stand out. However, other than the color––a bright red to contrast the greens––he wouldn’t think anything of it. Then again, this isn’t his culture; he wouldn’t think to think anything of it.  “ That’s good news then. Means we’re gettin’ somewhere. ”

Pom beams up at the trooper. They scurry along his arm, back to his shoulder, and settle down for the continued journey. Rex finishes off the last of his ration bar, replaces his helmet, and takes aim at another branch. This one, he hopes, will be the last stretch. He clips himself in and activates the wench, thus resuming their ascent.

It doesn’t take long for Pom to point out more markers of their tribe. There are carvings and paintings in the bark, more clusters of leaves, and even a few abandoned homes––all of which would have gone under Rex’s radar were he alone. The more he sees, the more he realizes how resourceful Pom’s people must be to live up here.

The excitement and wonder come to a grinding halt, however, when the ascension cable lurches. Rex only has a moment to realize what’s happening before it comes loose. After a brief fall and an undignified yell, he manages to catch himself on a branch, hands clinging to the bark and legs dangling.

“ Dammit! Pom, are you––– ”  He looks to his shoulder to find it unoccupied. He isn’t given any time to process this, though. A sharp smack to the side of his helmet draws the trooper’s attention to his left, where he finds four little humanoids, each armed with a slingshot.  “ What the hell . . .? ”

“ Stop! Leave him alone! ”  Calls a familiar voice from up above. Pom drifts down, landing atop Rex’s helmet.  “ He is my friend! ”

The four beings pause, each of them looking shocked and confused.  “ Pomfree? Is that you? ”  One asks. All at once, they rush forward towards Rex and Pom. He has to stop himself from flinching as they scale his arms and shoulders. The one that spoke clambers up to meet Pom on his helmet where the two embrace. Rex feels . . . awkward.

“ We saw you fall into the dark beyond! ”  The one––Rex assumes them to be the leader of the group––says.

“ I did! I fell all the way to the floor, ”  they say.  “ I tried to stop myself, but I tore my wing and hit my head and then I woke up down there. This one––– ”  they pat Rex’s helmet,  “ helped me back up. He saved me from a grekesa too! ” 

Though he can’t see any of the little ones from where they are on his person, he can feel all of their eyes on him. Rex clears his throat.  “ Er, hi. I hate to break up the reunion, but do you mind letting me pull myself up? I don’t really want to stay hanging here. ” 

Pom is the first to disembark. The others are quick to follow. Once they’re all off, Rex hauls himself up to straddle the branch. He breathes a sigh of relief, and rolls his shoulders to work out some of the stiffness from holding himself in place.

All five of the little beings stare at him. Pom is the only one that does not look wary. Rex can’t blame them, he supposes. He clears his throat again.  “ Right. I am Captain Rex of the Army of the Grand Republic. It’s true, I met Pom down on the jungle floor. “

“ He is good, ”  Pom insists, though their companions do not seem fully convinced. They huff and approach Rex, frowning. They climb up onto his thigh and gesture to him.  “ Show your face. Let them see you. ”

With some hesitancy, the trooper complies. He pulls his helmet off and tucks it under his arm. This somehow feels even more awkward.

“ Look, I don’t want to cause you any more trouble than we already have. I’m just trying to find my squadron; Pom told me I’d have a better shot at seeing where they landed up here. Only fair I bring them up with me. ”

The four regard him with scrutiny, then huddle up to whisper amongst themselves. Every few seconds, one of them glances back at him before returning to the conversation. Rex grimaces.

“ Well, Pom, I think this is where we’re gonna have to part ways. ”  Gently, he scoops the little being off of his leg and sets them down on the branch. Before he can pull his hand away, though, they catch his thumb and wrap their arms around it. This, he realizes, is the closest thing to a hug they can share. He glances to the group, all of whom are staring at him again, then gently lets his fingers curl around their back.

“ Hey now, no need for any waterworks, kid, ”  he says, mustering a half-smile.  “ Glad I could get you back to your people. You be good now, alright? ”

Pom gives his thumb a squeeze before letting go. They take the leaf they’d kept from when they’d first found signs of their tribe and place it in Rex’s palm.  “ Thank you, Rex. I am sad I cannot do more to help you than wish you luck in finding your own people. ”

“ Don’t worry about it. ”  His half-smile grows into something softer, more genuine. Fingers close around the leaf, then he pushes himself to stand. The four new little ones retreat a few feet, and Pom joins them after a moment. Rex offers a small wave, then puts on his helmet and tucks the leaf into one of his pockets. He takes his blaster and launches his ascension cable to a higher branch.

Pom is home. That’s good. Now he needs to figure out how the hell he’s going to keep the war away from them and their people.

[star-wars-scribbles-ff]

Where I Belong | Chapter 2

Story Summary: The only family she’d ever known gave her a name; back when she belonged to something. But when that family is lost, she leaves it all behind. When destiny drops her in the last place she ever wanted to be, she has to earn back the trust and respect of the Republic that left her to die. Caught between the Jedi and the Grand Army of the Republic, she’ll discover where she belongs.

Fandom: Star Wars | Galaxy Far Far Away

Rating: T+

Story Genre/Warnings: action/adventure/found family | war violence, death, torture, discrimination, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, found family, lots of clone boys, [more]

Words: 7,712

Disclaimer: Majority of properties within this fanfic are owned by Lucasfilm/Disney. My OCs, as well as a few other things within this fanfic are of my own creation. Republic Cog header made by me 😊

CHAPTER NOTE: Next chapter! Little shorter than the last so I hope that is acceptable. Don’t have much to say other than I hope it is enjoyed 🥰 OH! Check out one of the links below to see some arts I did for my OC Arwen Corcer! Her name is pronounced [ARE-when COURSE-er] for those interested!

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter | Arwen Corcer Mercenary Visuals

Present Day… 

The sun was just beginning to disappear behind the Coruscant skyline. Colors ranging from orange to purple were splashed behind the whisked clouds. The cityscape shadowed much of the surface, making it seem much darker than it had been minutes prior. 

Knelt on the ledge of one of the complex buildings, Arwen Corcer cradled an adventurer slugthrower rifle close to her body, cheek nestled over the stock as she stared through the scope, down the barrel. 

Bum bum…. Bum bum…. Bum bum. It was prevalent in her mind; the one thing she could hear. Breath steady, and both eyes open, she kept her dominant eye trained through the scope at the target. It was the only thing that could take precedence over the sound of her heart beating slowly, calculatedly. 

Just over a mile away, the target stood on the balcony of a large complex with other party guests attending a fundraiser. Since the outbreak of the war between the Galactic Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems, he'd been finding ways to make money off of both sides, all of which were illegal, helping to settle her conscience about the job. 

Arwen didn't know the motive behind the client who had hired her to eliminate the individual, but from what dirt she'd been able to turn up on the target, they had their fair share of skeletons in the closet- not including their double dealings with both the Republic and the CIS. Whatever the motive was- Arwen didn't have any desire to know; it wasn't her business, and it was also the job not to ask questions. That she learned early on. 

The target had a female Twi’lek on his arm. She was relatively close; too close. Arwen would need to wait for a proper window. 

The balcony was a large half circle that acted as a roof to half of the tower it rested upon; the outer wall of the half-circle was lined with finely arranged floral bushes and other organic material that contrasted starkly with the harsh greys of the city. Seating also scattered the sides of the balcony. Twenty-four individuals resided on the balcony, including the target who was talking with multiple associates. 

Finally the moment came, and the female left the target to walk inside. There was an opening.

Allowing her gloved fingers to make a minuscule adjustment on the barrel of her rifle, Arwen kept her breath steady, gaze locked on the target. 

Bum bum…. Bum bum…. Bum bum. 

Her finger began to slowly squeeze the trigger. 

Bum bum.

She breathed in. 

Bum bum.

Then out.

Bum bum.

She went to squeeze the trigger when a flash of blinding light overrode her senses. 

“Haar'chak!” Arwen cursed and lowered the rifle, squinted eyes raised towards the sky to see a Republic transport coming to a stationary hover around twenty-five yards above her. 

Spot lights flashed around her as individuals in the transport angled them towards her. Voices echoed over the roar of the transport. Republic Police.

Raising her rifle again, Arwen quickly found the target once more. 

Identify. Breathe in. Breathe out. Squeeze. 

The recoil of the rifle doubling back into her shoulder coupled with the force of the rifle pushing what air that was left from her lungs was familiar, oddly comforting, as she resettled the rifle, watching through the scope as the target was knocked to the ground with the force of the slug. 

Not a blaster bolt. Arwen would take a good blaster any day, but using old fashioned solid rounds was always a sure way to handle a job. Took authorities longer to get leads and she could make the ammunition herself if she so desired. 

Quickly flipping the safety on the weapon, Arwen swings the rifle over her body, securing the safety strap to her armor plate before taking off across the roof of the complex. Disappearing into the maze of air conditioning and ventilation units and other structures, Arwen pulled the fabric hanging around her shoulders up, securing it over her nose before pulling the hood over her head.

The authorities yelled as they repelled down onto the rooftop and began a chase. 

Dodging ventilation units and other cubic structures that littered the rooftop of the tower, Arwen came face to face with several GU-series Police Droids. 

“Halt,” One held up an arm towards her, SS-410 pistol in hand. “You are under arrest.”

There were too many here to have happened to notice her presence. She had been set up.

Dodging the fire of one of them, she lunged forward and pushed them over before continuing through the maze of structures. She just had to get to the opposite end of the complex. Those droids would have speeders; she’d take one and dump it near one of the vents; they’d suspect she's gone into the lower levels. 

Rounding a large unit, Arwen came to a screeching halt at the overwhelmingly bright colored individual.

“Stop!” A standard Republic clone trooper fitted in the signature bright white armor pointed his blaster at her. He looked rather taken off guard.

Arwen, still controlling her breathing, allowed her jaw to briefly clench before her ears perked and she heard the Police droids and her lips parted. Her eyes jumped to the side for a split second before she felt her eyebrows twitch.

“Don’t move.” He ordered, going to step closer to her.

She remained still as he approached, waiting for her opportunity before slapping his blaster away. She was quick to emobilize him; having grabbed his forearm she turned and put her back to his chest before throwing the trooper over her shoulder. 

He let out a cry of surprise before grunting in pain as he crumpled to the ground. Arwen’s pistol was already pointed down at him, his head at her feet. His helmet was already facing her but he seemed to flinch moments later; an indication he’d now noticed his predicament. He went to unsteadily raise his hands with hesitation.

Breathing now uneven and not controlled, Arwen stared down at the trooper. Mouth turning dry, she swallowed before her head shot up. 

They were coming.

Shooting the briefest look back down at the trooper whose head was at her feet, she quickly holstered her pistol and ran for one of the speeders hovering off the building ledge. As she jumped onto one, droids and other Troopers came flooding towards her. Cranking the throttle, she took off across the Coruscant skyline. 

After dumping the Police speeder near one of the vents, Arwen returned to the establishment owned by her client called Lanter’s Tavern. It was obvious she’d been set up; an arrangement made most likely so he wouldn’t have to pay her. It wasn’t a surprise, but needless to say, she would have preferred this transaction to have gone smoothly. 

Walking across the first level of the bar, Arwen made her way towards the back hall. The client owned this bar, however it was more a front; operated by employees to keep authorities off of his scent. 

Arwen swallowed, face still clothed in her dark grey, ragged hood, and cloth piece over her nose. The look was drawing eyes, but as soon as she made eye contact with any of them, they’d look away rather quickly. She wasn’t dressed like a civvy. Armored chest plate, shoulder, knee, and torso plating, rifle slung over her shoulder, blaster on her side and vibroblade attached to her boot- she looked like a gun for hire.

Her eyes snapped to the side when yelling flooded the room, and she quickly spotted a group of men cheering at one of the screenprojectors above the bar. This wasn’t one of the rowdier bars, but when certain pod races or other sporting events came on, it drew in crowds of the like. 

One would assume it was just your average evening on Coruscant. Many of the people residing on the planet had essentially no idea just how the war was currently strangling the galaxy. Sure Coruscant had its own problems, but most of these people didn’t know. They were content to be here, ignorant to the trillions of others surrounded by war throughout the galaxy. 

It was… a lonely feeling; being in the know in some manner while being surrounded by those with no knowledge of the conflict that had been at the center of her life until recently.

Continuing through the crowds to the other side of the large area, she was able to pass people virtually unnoticed until she began heading down the back hall. Graffiti was sparse but painted the walls here and there. It was a relatively clean establishment, just enough to blend with the top level of Coruscant at least. 

As she walked down the dimly lit corridor, out of sight from others she pulled the hood off of her head and lowered the cloth covering her face. Turning the corner, she spotted a human male guard at the door. Upon seeing her, his eyes widened as he went to scramble for his blaster, currently holstered. 

By the time Arwen was in front of him and he had the blaster pointed, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him forwards with enough force to cause his face to collide with her shoulder plate with a clang. He sputtered before dropping to the floor. 

Stepping over the body, Arwen pushed the control on the wall to open the door. As soon as it opened, her eyes met the barrels of multiple blasters pointed in her direction. She eased to a stop, picking out the multiple individuals preventing her from entering before she heard the muttering of words coming from further inside the room.

“Let her in, let her in.” It was a familiar voice, the client.

Arwen waited for the hired protection of the client to ease their weapons. Her own posture was relatively relaxed, however at a moment's notice she could have her blaster in hand. 

The individuals finally began stepping away, and Arwen waited until she had enough room before entering the converted office space, one calculated step after another. Her gaze dotted from one person to the next; a few Weequays -two male and one female- one male Nikto, one male human, and two Siniteens - male and female. All of them were armed. 

“Well, I admit I didn’t expect to see you again. Alive at least, after taking that job.”

Arwen turned her attention to the individual sitting at a desk in the corner, a datapad now abandoned in front of him sitting on the desk. 

“No thanks to you,” Arwen countered, hand resting over her belt as she met the eyes of the client. 

“You’re lucky, mercenary.” The Belosar considered her for a moment, eyes wandering over her as if he was looking for a sign of wear or evidence that his attempt to get rid of her wasn’t a complete waste. A couple beats of silence followed before he gave a decided hum and stood from his seat. Even at a stand, he was small, only five feet, maybe a couple inches more; his skin was almost a sickly grey, common for Belosars, his antennapalps protruded from his dark locks. 

A chuckle left his lips as he walked around his desk and past her, towards the right side of the room.

“You do drive a hard bargain for your services,” He tsked, waving a finger before going towards a large safe built into the wall.

“Well, you aren’t the first client to attempt to sell me out, Gerdon.” Arwen responded, notes of amusement on her tongue as she followed the Belosar with her eyes. 

“I assume if you are here, and that you haven’t started shooting, that you have finished the job, yes?” The antennapalps atop his head twitched as he turned to look at her from around the safe door, which stood taller than him.

Belosars’ antennapalps gave them the ability to detect drastic emotional changes around them as well as immediate danger, so he already knew she wasn’t here to do him harm. 

“You’d assume correct.” Arwen found her hands gripping her belt buckle as the client finally walked over with a small satchel that she assumed was full of credits. It better be at least. 

He held it out and she went to grasp the strap of the satchel, noticing almost immediately how he wasn’t planning on letting go of the item.

Her gaze remained on his as she searched his expression, careful not to give anything away in her own as she waited.

She could feel the presence of the protection detail around her. They were on edge, and by what Arwen could tell, hadn’t received previous orders on how to handle the situation- meaning they were reacting off of whatever Gerdon was doing as each second passed. 

If it was one thing she hadn’t been raised to deal with- it was these types of people. Not that she struggled; she knew how to navigate the life, but she’d experienced plenty of instances of learning on the go. So far not one client had questioned her validity as a mercenary or bounty hunter. Only a few had questioned her as they hadn’t seen her in the business prior, however it was an easy thing to explain. Big galaxy. 

Sometimes it made her rethink just how good she was at the life… being a criminal. She’d received the best training in the galaxy and this is how she was using it… Then it would come back - why she was in this situation to begin with and how she’d come into the life.

Her eyes flicked towards some of the armed individuals before returning to Gerdon.

“I recall we discussed proof of your success being displayed upon your return?” He tried, spare hand drumming lightly on the satchel, the other gripping the other end of the strap.

“That was before you sold me out to the Republic.” Arwen stepped closer, causing a few of the surrounding hired guns to pull their weapons slowly. “You’ll see it on the Holonet News first light; given the Republic will allow the word to spread.” 

The Galactic Republic had taken over the HoloNet News, or just HNN, shortly after the war broke out. Everything ran through them, as to ensure the CIS wasn’t aided in any potentially sensitive information. Despite that effort, there was a Separatist presence on Coruscant - hell on every Republic system - besides Kamino possibly; there were terrorist cells everywhere, and information was always being leaked. Arwen doubted things had changed at all since she… left. 

“Either way, word’ll get to you.” Her voice was low and sharp as she maintained steady eye contact with the man, the height difference between them not going unnoticed as the Belosar shifted where he stood. She easily stood at around 5 feet, 9 inches and her footwear added an extra inch in the sole. This Belosar’s eyes barely met the top of her chest plate.

Gerdon considered her momentarily, his jaw tightens briefly before his lips pull back and he grins. Chuckling he released the satchel and pushed it into her grasp before patting the hand she’d been holding the strap with.

“Yes yes of course, it is only fair I suppose.” He appeared almost distracted as he headed back to his desk, shifting things on the tabletop surface as he went. “It is the pay we discussed. I threw a little extra in for your trouble.”

“How thoughtful.” Arwen couldn’t help the deadpan tone that leaked through her words. 

“It was a pleasure,” The Belosar clasped his hands together, resting them on his desk once he had taken a seat. The silence that followed was a clear indication that she was excused.

Arwen watched him for a moment, using her peripheral vision to keep an eye on the hired protection in the room before bowing her head a fraction in response. 

Satchel in her grasp, she went to leave, meeting the eyes of one of the Weequays before heading out of the office. She stepped over the still unconscious guard on the ground and continued down the hallway back towards the bar. 

The breath that slipped out through her lips caused her stomach to tighten a fraction as she closed her eyes momentarily.

That was too close. If she didn’t have to worry about the heat from the authorities, she’d probably have dealt with that piece of rankweed Belosar; the only one of his kind she had met who wasn’t in the Death Stick trade. Gerdon was something of a coward, but could weasel his way out of a lot of problems. She’d been warned he might pull a stunt like that, but it still caught her off guard when it happened. Thankfully she was able to get away without hurting anyone. 

Face now exposed, Arwen made a beeline for one of the more secluded bar counters at the back of the room where multiple bench seating areas resided. There were only a few other individuals at the bar, several seats down when she took a seat on the far right. Grabbing the rifle off of her back, she rested it against the bar between her and the wall before raising her hand in a small gesture for the bartender. 

“Be there in a minute, girlie.” Ignoring the man’s words, Arwen gripped her fist with her right hand, resting her chin on her thumbs. 

Despite feeling more at ease, her shoulders were still tight, and her back was tense. She needed to disappear for a while. After that phiasco, there would be bulletins out for her; she’d be on the HoloNet News probably. The police droids most likely snapped images of her; they’d have a loose idea of her face, but not enough to use recognition software. If she stayed low for a while, she might be able to stay on Coruscant but… She’d have to wait a long while before things cooled down. It might just be easier to leave. However she didn’t have enough loose credits to get off-world. 

She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief moment before running a hand over her hair that was braided off to one side; her bangs were loose and tousled from the hood she’d since removed. Movement on the other side of the bar counter caused Corcer’s eyes to lift, and she met the gaze of a human male.

“What can i get you?” 

“I’ll have an Ardees.” Something strong and bitter to ease her nerves. 

“If you don’t want the nonalcoholic version, I’ll need to see some identification.” The man responded, resting one hand on the counter. Her previous job didn’t exactly give her an identification card, much like in the Republic’s military. That was something civilians had.

Arwen closed her eyes momentarily before looking the bartender in the eye. Letting on hand slide away from the counter and to her lap.

“I just finished a job with Gerdon; that should be enough.” Arwen countered. If you knew the name, it was essentially a pass. This bar was named Lanter’s because that was the façade Gerdon used, and if you knew his real name you were involved in his work. 

The bartender’s expression flickered with mild uncertainty before he gave a curt nod and went to prepare the drink. 

Feeling her expression soften a bit, Arwen let her gaze fall to the counter before she returned both arms to the surface, balancing her elbows on the edge. 

Putting off a threatening vibe to everyone she came into contact with was tiresome; infuriating at times. It wasn’t really who she was, but she had plenty of anger to expel, which made it easier on days like this. That aside, most of these people were rotten anyhow.

The satchel settled in her lap, Arwen tapped her thumb against the back of the other as she waited. Letting her gaze bounce subtly around at the space off to her left, she lingered on a few different individuals before drawing her attention back. 

“Look a little tense there, kid.” The bartender announced, setting a glass down before pouring the liquid.

Arwen waited until he was finished and had pushed the glass closer before she grabbed it and downed it. She hid the grimace as the liquid burned her throat for a moment before setting it down with a grumble. 

“Close call on a job.” She decided to say. Bartenders sometimes made small talk; it was harmless enough and this guy wasn’t giving off a deceptive vibe. She could always tell that about people; read their character, at least in the moment. Something her squa… it was something some people she used to know would call her ‘special power’. 

“I’ve had my fair share of ones like you coming out with that look.” The man gestured towards her with the bottle of Ardees. “Boss sell you out on a job?”

Arwen eyed him for a moment, considering her options before giving a slight twitch of her eyebrow. “I’m sitting here aren’t I?” 

“That you are,” He chuckled, going to pour more of the bitter liquid into her glass once she had held it out. Filling the glass he set the bottle of Ardees down close enough for her to reach before patting the counter. “Help yourself, kid.”

Arwen simply gestured towards him with the glass before going to drink down more of the strong liquid. 

Once he walked away, she set the glass back down and cleared her throat. It had been months since she’d adopted the façade, but she still wasn’t used to the amount of alcohol she’d find herself consuming at times; even to appear to blend in with the criminal/low life element. The nature of her previous-... job… Prevented her from drinking often. And even then she didn’t really have a need to. Now she found herself with the occasional drink just to calm her nerves. Thankfully she could hold herself pretty well after consuming alcohol. 

Swallowing the remnants of the bitterness in her mouth, Arwen went to raise the glass again.

“Hey- the Commander wants us back by 2300.”

Her hand froze before the glass reached her lips, parted lips closing as she clenched her jaw. Keeping her posture where it was, Arwen looked out of the corner of her eye, turning her head only a fraction to the left as she quickly spotted the source of the familiar voice.

“Of all the bars you could think of - you chose this one? Seems a little… dicey.” Arwen spotted the four clone troopers heading to an oval shaped bar area in the center of the room, their backs to her as they came to the counter. 

“Maybe so, but not as bad as The Nexu’s Den; I heard they don’t even serve clones.”

“79s serves clones, and its not down here in the-”

“Don’t get your blacks in a bunch, this place is fine. The Corporal says he’s been here with some guys; they didn’t have any problems.”

Turning back to face the counter, Arwen’s grip on the glass in her hand tightened momentarily. 

These guys were on break. The authorities probably hadn’t even processed the incident involving her yet. And by the armor markings- these guys were probably back on leave. They wouldn’t be a problem. But all the same… She needed to leave. 

Grabbing some credits from the satchel, Arwen waved the bartender over before putting the small pile of money down, discreetly sliding it towards him. 

He took it with a nod but quickly noticed the amount far surpassed the bill for her drink.

“I- kid-”

“I wasn’t here.” Arwen cut him off, searching his expression for a sign of reassurance to her comment.

The bartender processed her words before ultimately giving a small dip of his chin, carefully moving the credits to his pocket.

Arwen patted the counter and gave him a nod in return before getting to her feet. Swiftly swinging the rifle over her shoulder and securing the satchel, she began heading out of the bar.

Her eyes drift off towards the soldiers at one of the main bars, all seemingly enjoying themselves and toasting their drinks.

At the sound of their laughs she clenched her jaw and looked away before continuing out of the establishment. Before her thoughts could dwell too much on her past however, a medium sized ball of fur suddenly crowded her at the entrance to Lanter’s Tavern.

“Hey Bek,” Arwen chuckled, kneeling a fraction to greet the anooba happily panting, hindquarters shaking with excitement. Kneeling down onto one knee, Arwen rustled the fur around his neck before leaning back in surprise at the smell of the animal’s breath.

“Whoa- what did you get into?” Arwen can’t help the smile that broke across her face as she got to her feet once more. “C’mon bud,” Heading down the walkway outside of the tavern, the Anooba followed eagerly. “Let’s get something to eat.”

It was around 2200 by the time Arwen got to her basecamp for the night. She couldn’t stay in a hostel because of Bek; most establishments didn’t allow animals, and even then, she couldn’t trust such establishments to be safe - especially with the heat that could be coming down on her soon. 

Fishing into the bag of food, Arwen pulled a couple of nuna jerky strips, holding one out to the Anooba who was waiting patiently.

She felt the smile tug at her lips as Bek didn’t waste time in beginning to chew on the meat. Lifting her own strip, Arwen peeled off a small piece before tossing it into her mouth. Her eyes rose to trace the skyline of Coruscant. Sometimes it looked alright… Right now it didn’t look too bad. The lights that covered the planet contrasted with the darkness of the sky; the lines of traffic were relatively calm; rush hour was long past. From her perch on the roof of a building she could see several notable structures, as well as multiple Republic cruisers in the distance.  

The sight of one Republic cruiser in particular caught her eye as it departed from the cruiser staging area; a Venator-class star destroyer. The familiar rumble of the engines of the large ship made her chest tighten as she stared longingly after the vessel as it took off towards the atmosphere. 

Drawing her eyes away, Arwen continued to pull at her jerky, putting a small bite-sized piece into her mouth. After giving a moment to consider it, she put the food away, having lost her appetite and pulled the satchel into her lap.

She felt the warm breath of Bek panting and looked up at him with an eyebrow raised.

“You had your share, mister.” The anooba only gave a small bark of protest before beginning his circles to lie down. 

Opening the satchel, Arwen looked over the credits and tousled them a bit before nodding to herself. It was more than she really needed. Not nearly enough to get off world, but half of it had a home to go to.

“Looks like we’ll have to hitch a ride to Saleucami, bud.” Arwen looked down at Bek, who had since curled up in a ball beside her. 

His head perked up at her words, ears standing at attention before his mouth fell open and he began panting again. 

Scratching along the standing fur of his back, Arwen gave her companion some well-deserved attention for a few minutes before resting back against the sloped structure acting as her bed for the night. One thing from her training she didn’t take for granted- learning to sleep anywhere and everywhere.

The Anooda next to her stretched his legs out, giving a yawn that showed off all of his teeth, and absence of the large front tooth, before settling back down. She had found him early on when she arrived on Coruscant. She had come across him while on a job, the target had ties to the animal trade; but when she found Bek, it was obvious he’d been used for dog fighting. He’d had his front tooth removed, a vital defense mechanism against other predators. Since the job he’d followed her around ever since; disappearing at times when she had jobs, but popping up hours later just as happy to see her. 

Adjusting her head where she laid, Arwen let her eyes gaze up towards the night sky. It was settled. She’d head off-word; get to the outer rim or at least away from the core words for a bit. She could head to Saleucami and meet up there with a friend before getting back to it. 

The Next Day…

She’d been to countless establishments - too many - looking for work. She needed a big payout to get off-world and she needed it fast. She was getting desperate. She’d visited at least two dozen locations now, and dealers and contacts that usually had plenty of jobs were coming up empty, or with jobs with too little a payout. 

There would be plenty of work in the outer rim, but getting there was the problem. Just hiring someone to get you there, in the middle of a war no less, was the problem. The only stipulation she had was how job offers would change the further from “civilized planets” she got; it would be harder to stay anonymous as a gun for hire out there. Regardless of that risk- she needed to get away from the Republic before they started tying her to any jobs. If they knew some of the jobs she’d taken out… One could just say she wouldn’t see the outside of a prison cell for the rest of her life. 

Not that she took “bad” jobs. She had been relatively consistent in keeping her jobs focused on the vile and corrupt; it was her methods of dealing with those people that the authorities wouldn’t agree with. And her… history with the Republic Military wouldn’t help matters. 

Coming to a slow stop outside of one of the last establishments she’d come to know, Arwen found her eyes meeting the sign above the building: One Round - just your average dicey bar, however like many of the businesses, there was always some morally grey business going on the side. Your average civilian would see the name of a bar like that and assume it meant one round of drinks, which it did. But in the criminal world, it also stood for one literal round, as in ammunition. She’d gotten some credible leads from the bartender that ran the establishment. Hopefully he had something. 

Walking inside, Arwen was quick to notice it was quite busy; more so than she’d expect it to be for the late afternoon. Bek trotted along at her side as she made her way to the back of the room where she knew Ramic, the bartender, would be. He seemed to spot her in the sea of people before she even did, and he waved her over to one end of the bar that was less crowded.

“Corcer,” He gave her a small acknowledgement as she stepped up to the counter and leaned forward onto it, not bothering to take a seat.

“Ramic,” Arwen responded in return, watching as he went about cleaning several glasses that littered the back counter.

“You lookin for the usual? Cause I hate to tell ya this, but I-”

“Actually, I’m looking for something a bit- stronger,” Arwen chose her words carefully as she watched the bartender’s movement and shifting expression.

He seemed to process her statement for a moment before looking over towards her.

“Stronger eh?”

Corcer dipped her head in response, forearms supporting her weight on the bar counter as Bek seated himself near her feet, facing away from the bar and towards the crowd. 

“... I might have something.” He seemed to be considering his words, his voice grew quieter. “It’s no easy feat I warn ya. Few others tried it, and it was a little too much for their tastes.” 

Shifting her weight around so her hands could clasp in front of her while she leaned on the counter, Arwen thought quietly to herself.

Most likely a high risk job. That might come with heat. She needed to be careful. Accept the wrong job and she could be in serious trouble.

“Have any other details?” She tried.

He gives her a small shake of his head, setting a couple more glasses down behind the counter.

“Sorry, kid. That’s all I know.”

Arwen nodded in response, the movement turning into a head shake as she internally cursed herself.

“Haar'chak - I’ll give it a shot.”

Ramic seemed hesitant, brow knit and hesitant eyes searched her for a brief time before he finally nodded and gestured towards the door a ways away from the bar. 

“Your man is back there.”

Arwen looked to him and then the door, seeing two guards. Standing up straight, she quickly tipped Ramic with what credits she had in her pocket before heading over. She didn’t miss the nod he gave to the guards, most likely a signal to her let pass.

They stepped aside and Arwen walked through the space and down a small hall. She’d never taken a job directly through One Round before. Usually Ramic would point her in the direction of work, but it never originated out of the bar. He owned the establishment; unless things had changed recently. 

Coming to the end of the hall, Arwen stopped at the final door. The muffled sound of the music from the other room was still within hearing range, but quiet enough that there must be sound dampeners within the walls of the hall and possibly the doors as well. Not a good sign. 

Arwen looked down at Bek, seeing the anooba looking at her expectantly. 

“You ready?” She deadpanned, cocking an eyebrow. 

The animal stepped back and forth between paws, something he did when excited before giving a small bark. 

She breathed out sharply through her nose in amusement before nodding. 

“At least someone is.” She mumbled to herself before pushing the control panel button for the door. It slid up with ease, and she quickly met the gazes of multiple individuals. The majority of them were human, however there was a Duros present, and a Rodian. Just by body language and appearance, she quickly picked out the potential client, and when her gaze landed on him expectantly, he seemed mildly impressed.

“If Ramic let you in, you must be fit for the job.” He evaluated her momentarily, gaze lingering on Bek for a moment before returning to her eyes.

“Care to enlighten me? Ramic was pretty sparse on the details.” Arwen cocked her head to the side lightly, taking a few steps into the room. Getting comfortable in her stance, she rested her hands on her belt. 

“Forgive him on that account,” The man had his hands clasped as he took a seat adjacent to a desk, facing her. “The nature of this task demands a certain level of delicacy. We can’t just have the details flying around, I assume you understand this.”

He was rather pale in his complexion, dark hair and a somewhat square jaw. He had a strong but almost dainty build, dark eyes and hair shaven down low to his scalp; didn’t look like the type to handle dirty work himself, but certainty had the deep pockets to have someone else do so. He evoked a certain confidence, but also perniciousness; it wasn’t enough to make her uncomfortable, but certainly cautious. There was something off about this job, she could already feel it. 

“Of course,” Arwen appeased him with the response, and he seemed somewhat delighted, but remained eerily at ease as he rose from his seat. 

“I need explosives planted at a certain location. A few have attempted other locations of the like, however they haven’t yet had success.”

Arwen swallowed in an effort to prepare herself to speak. This wasn’t the kind of job she was looking for. 

“Where would this location be?” She asked. 

“Destabilization is the key.” He all but ignored her question and continued with his subtle monologue. 

“Enough with the dramatics,” Arwen cut him off, causing him to slowly turn with a soured expression. “What is the job?” Her tone leaked with mild agitation, expression relaxed but set hard in a display of confident frustration.

His eyes fell to her boots, and to Bek for a moment before they rose once more and he pulled a hand-held holoprojector. Activating the device, a hologram of a location rose into the room. The space was dark enough that she could easily make out what was in front of her and she felt a cold sweat start to bead between her shoulder blades beneath her armor plating.

“That’s a Republic Military base.” She stated, looking the hologram over further despite not needing to second guess before turning her eyes to the client.

“Indeed it is,” He responded. “My superiors would like to see a blow struck to it. We need someone to go in and plant the devices in suitable locations; casualty high locations are preferred; barracks, mess halls, weapons depot... Locations that will shake the Republic's stability, and hurt its military power here on Coruscant; but most importantly, weaken the people’s faith in the Republic’s military might.”

Arwen was quickly thinking it over in her head as he spoke. No easy way out of this situation. If she turned the job down, it was very likely that they'd kill her right here. This could be a Separatist cell, it was a likely candidate. However it could also be a crime faction. Didn't seem Hutt related, although she couldn't eliminate that possibility. 

Taking in a steady breath, Arwen pulled her eyes away from the projection to meet the eyes of the client.

Ramic, needless to say, was caught off guard when Arwen slumped down into one of the stools in front of the bar.

“Well, how’d it go?” He puffed out a hard breath with amusement before going to pour something into a glass.

“You could’ve given me a little insight into my lack of choice in this job once I entered that room, Ramic” She offered, gesturing back with a thumb over her shoulder.

He gave her a subtly apologetic look before setting the glass down in front of her. “Sorry, kid, but if I told people that, then they wouldn’t be interested.” He chuckled and Arwen couldn’t help but do the same, however it was more so from the nerves if anything. 

“How’s it looking?” He leaned on the counter for a moment as Arwen took the glass and downed the drink rather quickly. He watched curiously before his brow knit and he pulled his lip tight. “That bad?”

“Worse. I’m not looking for that kinda heat; I get caught or this goes sideways and… It’s not looking great.” She tried to sum it up simply, but couldn’t really find the words. She still needed to process this herself, and also beat herself upside the head with something. 

Finishing the glass of the alcoholic beverage, Arwen set it down and patted the counter.

“Thanks for the tip.” As playfully reluctant as her tone may have been, the man seemed apologetic.

“Good luck, kid.”

Arwen pulled out some more credits, covering both the drink but also the job tip before giving him a lazy two finger salute. Briefly looking down at Bek, she made her way out of the bar. 

The client, who didn’t even provide a name, had given her a set of coordinates. Once there, she’d meet up with one of his associates who would provide her with the supplies she’d need to carry out the job. 

As she walked the upper streets and walkways of Coruscant she finally came to the end of the road. She’d call an air taxi and get relatively close to where she needed to go. Her eyes catch the sign above a building and she quickly realizes where she is; she’d been walking so blindly and ended up in the last place she should be.

The weakening daylight did little to dull the sign that blinked in bright neon colors: 79s. She knew it was one of the clone tolerant bars, even before hearing a trooper mention it last night. 

Feeling her back begin to tense, Arwen searched the skyline for incoming traffic, but found no air taxis in site.

“Great.” She muttered to herself. She could be here a while. 

Her rifle disassembled and hidden away in the satchel she’d acquired, she blended in alright. No one was paying her too much mind thankfully.

The various sounds, including the humming and rumbling of ships and speeders in the sky, as well as the chatter around her and music coming from the bar was distracting, but not enough to put her completely on edge. If anything she felt exposed where she was, it was pretty open and being at the corner of the walkway waiting for an air taxi was something she didn’t enjoy doing. 

Her ears perked slightly, picking out familiar voices in particular.

She cursed quietly through her teeth before glancing to her right, seeing several troopers a ways down the walk, huddled near the railing of the walkway. A woman was cozying up to one of them.

Her interest perked, Arwen allowed herself to watch quietly as the woman let her hands glide along the torso and chest plating of the trooper who looked especially nervous but equally exhilarated as the troopers around him seemed increasingly amused by the event unfolding. 

Arwen couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips before she forced herself to look away with a slight shake of her head. It was innocent enough. 

A couple moments passed, and Arwen felt a nagging feeling tugging at her to look again. Finally giving into the temptation, she spared a glance towards the troopers and the woman, only to have her eyebrows jump in surprise. 

She watched as the woman slipped a hand into one of the pockets of the trooper’s belt while he was distracted, snatching a few credits. 

Arwen felt her lips part in disarray and astonishment. As if those men had anything to begin with, you've got pickpockets preying on them now. 

The woman coddled him a little more before walking away in Corcer’s direction.

“Unfortunate,” Arwen muttered before adjusting the grip she had on her belt buckle. Taking a small step back, Arwen waited until the woman was close enough before smoothly and intentionally taking a wide step, tripping the woman and causing her to fall and the credits to go flying. 

The woman let out a startled cry as she landed awkwardly on her stomach, hands splayed out towards where the credits fell out of her reach. 

Arwen took several steps around the woman and picked up the scattered credits. People in the vicinity had noticed and the woman went to snap at Arwen once she got to her feet, but backed off once she got a better look. While Arwen was being rather discreet in her clothing, she still looked like a hired gun. That was for sure. 

Bek growled at her side, catching the woman’s attention as she seemed infuriated, quickly disappeared into the crowd, hands balled in fists. Rolling the credits around in her palm, Arwen hesitated a moment before taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing. 

“How much did you have on you?” She turned, walking towards the troopers who still wore expressions of surprise. 

“What?” One asked, familiar brown eyes wide. He was the one the woman was getting handsy with. 

“Credits,” She reaffirmed. “How much did you have on you?” She tossed them lightly in her hand.

“Um,” He swallowed and stuttered a bit further, subconsciously going for his pocket before he swallowed, trying to recall as his comrades looked on with amusement. 

Arwen took the moment the soldier was processing his thoughts to look him over. He looked so young. He must be pretty fresh off Kamino; the troopers with him looked about the same.

“Here,” She took the opportunity of him being distracted to lightly grab his wrist and push the handful of credits into his hand. It was probably three or four times as much as he originally had on him. “Watch those pockets, boys, alright?” She warned, a little taken off guard by the warmth in her own voice before she turned to leave. 

“Th-Thanks,” The statement was called after her. “Don’t tell the Sarg.” The second statement came quieter and Arwen smiled.

“When we get back to base you’re gonna-”

The smile fell away and Arwen drew her attention off of the soldiers. The base… right. The one she was about to… 

She walked for a while back the way she had come before finally grabbing an air taxi. After briefly squabbling with the driver over Bek’s presence, she finally got the Sullustan to take her where she needed to go. By the time she arrived at the destination, it was around sunset, and she met the associate on the roof of a building at the edge of the newly added Military district. The Republic’s main military base was within view; still under construction. It wasn’t the target she was being hired to hit. There were other military bases in the area. 

The Quarren seemed curious regarding her, or maybe surprised.

He chuckled as he handed over a large cloth bag full of the ordnance she’d need.

“Good luck,” He muttered before walking away.

Arwen felt somewhat sick as she held the bag strap in an iron grip before looking over her shoulder as the being left.

“Take as long as you need. But it shouldn’t take more than a few days tops.”

She clenched her jaw before reluctantly returning her gaze to the Coruscant skyline ahead, towards one of the GAR bases that was in view, but much farther than the base currently under construction. 

She gritted her teeth briefly before shaking her head, letting her voice slip out in a whisper. “What are you doing?”

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CHAPTER NOTE: Been stumbling over this chapter for a while, and I hope it turned out well! Getting Arwen’s introduction right has been causing me anxiety for a while so I hope she seems intriguing? Next chapter should be up soon! Next week with luck on my side 😁

Support in the form of a comment or reblog is very much appreciated if you had fun reading :)

[padawanprotege]

Hi everyone. After stumbling upon a beautifully chaotic Jedi Oc I became inspired to write a fic about my own Oc making a new friend. After many early morning and late night discussions, I finally came up with a little something on how Jedi Knight Ayelet Ebele and Master Tiin Orat first met.

Tiin Orat belongs solely to the lovely @queenofbeskar​, and this fic is dedicated to them for inspiring me.

Into the Forests of Arorua

Arorua was an inconsequential planet in the Sertar Sector. Being a back-water world in the Outer Rim regions, meant that the Galactic republic often overlooked the lone planet. However recent reports of regular separatist movement on the forest-covered world had sparked immediate action. Upon investigation, a small stealth team confirmed the presence of separatist battle droids, along with the location of a new droid factory still under construction.

Once the news had reached the Jedi council, the members of the High Council wasted no time and immediately summoned the 822nd Battalion General, Jedi Master Tiin Orat along with the Young Jedi Knight Ayelet Ebele.

“Scouts have confirmed the presence of a separatist base on Arorua. We can waste no time in dealing with this threat. If the separatists are given the chance to complete the construction of their new droid factory, they could easily seize control of the surrounding systems.” Mace Windu announced, comfortably slouched back in his chair as he addressed the two Jedi standing before him. Around him sat many empty chairs, some filled with the blue projection of a hologram but most lay dormant. A telling sign of the growing demands of the war.

“Suit you well this mission will, Master Orat.” Master Yoda chimed in, pointing to the Zabrak hybrid with the end of his gimer stick before turning it back down towards the floor and returning to silence. His cryptic words revealing no clear answer for Tiin to decipher.

Returning the conversation back to himself, Mace continued “Master Tiin, your battalion will be deployed immediately to Arorua to regain control of the system. Knight Ebele, you are to accompany the 822nd with your own battalion and aid them in any way. The destruction of this factory is vital for our successful occupation in the outer rim.”

Turning his attention away from the tall Jedi Master that stood in the centre of the high council chambers to the smaller figure standing slight behind Tiin's right shoulder, Mace's gaze focused on Ayelet. “This is your first mission since being knighted Ebele, we will be watching your performance closely.”

“Watch and listen you must, learn much from Master Orat you will, young one.” Yoda chimed in once again, his eyes also focusing on the young knight, however, the hint of a smile on the old masters face reassured Ayelet that although she was young and less experienced than the Jedi that surrounded her, she was prepared to face whatever this battle would bring.

At the conclusion of the debriefing, both Tiin and Ayelet bowed deeply to few Jedi Masters present in the council chambers before walking out into one of the adjoined hallways. “Arorua. I haven’t had the chance to visit it yet. It’s quiet far out in the outer-rim regions. Very beautiful from what I’ve researched. Do you know anything of it Knight Ebele?” Master Orat asked as they walked in sync past the large windows of the corridor, her distinct man’doa accent lacing her words in a tone that Ayelet was so used to hearing from the clones that she was slightly taken aback by the sound of it in Tiin’s voice.

Ayelet took a moment to consider her answer, as a padawan she'd spent much of her time studying lost languages and forgotten civilisations with her Master so knew much about the ancient planet. She decided to keep her answer short and not allow her excitement about travelling to the remote forest world turn into a history lesson.

“It’s a world covered in a dense forest. Centuries ago, there were cities and temples scattered across the planet, but over time the woodlands consumed them in their roots and drove most of the population to neighbouring systems.” Ayelet couldn't help the small smile that grew on her face as she spoke of the forest-covered world. Nature had always been her biggest strength in the force. As a youngling, she would often venture away from her crèche mates to spend time in the temple gardens, and once she was taken on as a padawan and encouraged by her master to pursue her interest in botany, she found her true passion.

Ayelet often thought of what her life would be like when she completed her trials of knighthood and could peruse her passions. She dreamed that she would travel to exotic worlds, studying the different flora that inhabited the far reaches of space and tending to the gardens in the Jedi Temple whenever she wasn't on leave. At no point in her apprenticeship had she expected her knighthood to result in her becoming a soldier in a war she didn't understand.

Ayelet's attention was brought back to the present at the sound of Tiin's naturally loud voice. “A jungle adventure? Sounds like something out of a holo-film." Master Orat jested as she grinned cheerfully down at the young right beside her. Although Ayelet couldn't see her eyes behind the mask the Zabrak wore, she could tell that Tiin was also smiling with her eyes.

'Perhaps this mission won't be so difficult without Master Aziza’s help if I've got Master Tiin to keep me company.' Ayelet silently mused while craning her neck back to match Tiin's eye-line before replying with a humoured smile on her lips, “Yes, I suppose it does sound like that.”

As they continued down the hallway to the nearby hanger bay, the two Jedi continued speaking, the conversation slowly turning into one reminiscent of old friends as they began to grow more comfortable in each other’s company.

'Yes. I think this mission will go quite well.' Ayelet silent thought to herself as she followed Master Orat into a waiting speeder. She couldn't deny that she missed her master's familiar and comforting presence, but Ayelet could sense a similar nurturing presence residing within Tiin, and hoped that during their time spent together on this campaign a new friendship could be formed.

----------

Ayelet would normally delight at the opportunity to immerse herself in the natural world if it weren’t for the suffocating darkness that consumed the forest of Arorua.

After stepping off the gunship and into the forest she felt herself lose one sense while her others heightened in the unfamiliar environment. It was disorientating to be almost blinded but given the ears of a wolf. Even the soft susurration of the branches felt heavy in her ears. The blackness surrounding them nurtured a sense of claustrophobia even though the woodland stretched unbroken for miles.

As her clone troopers unloaded the gunships and prepared themselves for the battle ahead, Ayelet took the moment to stow away amongst the thick woodlands. Wandering a few steps away from the temporary camp they had established, Ayelet found herself staring upon the massive truck of an aphor tree. The young knight could feel the spirit of the old tree and the wisdom that it carried.

Approaching tree, Ayelet reached out a gloved hand and placed it softly upon the trunk. Sparing a glance back towards the now fully lit campsite the clones had constructed, Ayelet convinced herself she’d have enough time to meditate before General Orat arrived to discuss the assault plan.

Gently, Ayelet boosted herself up to one of the high branches on the old aphor tree to stare out into the dark woodlands ahead. The forest was ancient. The trees thick and old. It might once have been filled with bird-song and animals that roamed. But now long centuries had pasted since its former glory.

Ayelet felt her expression soften into a small smile at the familiar sensation of sunlight dancing across her face through the leaves above. Settling herself on the branch, Ayelet crossed her legs and placed both hands on the sturdy limb beneath her. Taking slow and deep breaths Ayelet allowed herself to open up to the natural world around her, letting her own spirit intertwine with the ancient spirit of the forest. Listening closely, Ayelet could hear the spirits of the forest whispering around her, their hushed words of wisdom barely reaching her ears.

A sudden disturbance in the force shock Ayelet from her tranquil state, shaking her physically back to the real world. She felt the force ripple through the tree beneath her. No, that wasn’t the force shaking. It was the tree she was in shaking. She’d become so entwined with ancient trees lifeforce that she had felt the strike to the tree as though it was to her own body.

However, Ayelet came to her senses to slowly, noticing too late that the world around her was slowly slipping upwards as her body sluggishly tipped backwards off the branch. Suddenly aware of her compromised balance, Ayelet tried to quickly pull herself back up onto the strong tree limb, but the reaction came too late. Ayelet felt her fingers lose their loose grip on the branch, causing a sense of panic to flood her as she frantically looking around her.

Perhaps there was another lower branch she could cling to to break her fall or a hanging vine nearby that she could latch onto. All Ayelet achieved as she fell gracelessly out of the tree was flailing her arms around frantically as though she would grow wings to stop her crashing into the rapidly approaching forest floor.

At the last possible moment, Ayelet called upon the force for help, wrapping its loyal embrace around her. Although she hadn’t experienced the full damage of the fall, her body ached as she made contact with the rough terrain. She laid there, completely motionless for a moment, focusing on inhaling serenity and exhaling her discomfort.

Slowly lifting her head to see what had caused the tree to shake, she had expected to see one of the AT-RT’s clumsily crashed into the trunk. To her surprise, all that greeted her was the sight of a tall figure carefully prying their large pink horns from the trunk of the tree, then proceed to gingerly rub the area atop her head. Ayelet tried to convince herself that perhaps she had hit her head harder than she’d originally thought and was simply hallucinating, that would explain the scene before her.

Sealing her eyes shut tightly and shaking her head, Ayelet slowly raising herself to sit on her knees, not fully trusting her legs to support her weight so soon after falling. Ayelet took a moment to steady her thoughts and bridle her emotions before reopening her eyes. To her disbelief, the horned figure was still there and was closing the space between them.

“Ayelet, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Tiin’s voice was loud enough to have started the young knight in the quiet of the forest if not for the man’doa accent and the nurturing tone in the voice. Ayelet felt herself begin to smile as she watched the Zabrak hybrid kneel before her. Even when the Master knelt down to match Ayelet’s height, she still had to crane her neck back to view the Jedi Master’s face.

“That was quite a fall, must have hurt like a shabuir.” Tiin continued as she gently placed a hand under Ayelet’s jaw and moved her head around to assess the damage, pausing for a moment when she saw the slit on the knight’s chin. Ayelet didn’t fully understand what Tiin had said but recognised the tone to know she was implying that the fall must have hurt a lot in a very colourful way.

Without warning Tiin wrapping one of her large arms behind Ayelet’s back and helped her to her feet, holding her close to her large frame in a half embrace to help support her. The sudden contact unsettled Ayelet, the feeling of someone, particularly someone that she had only spent a few days with, so close to her made her slightly tense in surprise.

But she never uttered a word in protest as the Zabrak guided her back towards the encampment. Ayelet could sense the nurturing care radiating off Tiin as they walked, like a crèche master tending to one of her charges, and began to relax into the Master's gentle hold around her.

As they slowly crossed the camp, Ayelet could hardly hear the sound of herself moving, Tiin’s loud footsteps drowning out the sound of her own light footsteps beside her. Ayelet recognised the familiar sight of the medic tent, under normal circumstances, Ayelet would be the one guiding one of her troopers into the make-shift hospital.

“Perhaps you should stay with me. Get your head checked out. You hit that tree pretty hard.” Ayelet proposed as they made their way into the shelter of the tent, a playful smile present on her lips as she continued while pointing to the top of her head. “You’ve probably left a few holes in that tree.”

Ayelet hadn’t prepared herself for Tiin’s reply as she listened to the Jedi Master laugh in response to her words. The laugh was loud, like her voice, and quickly drew the eyes of everyone inside the tent onto them, but Ayelet could feel that the laugh was genuine, so simply smiled along as the medics stared across at the two Jedi.