#or a jedi who watched him skinny dip

[iamscoby]

Din: If I visit the planet and I can bring you proof that I have bathed in the Living Waters beneath the mines of Mandalore, then by Creed, the decree of exile will be lifted and I would be redeemed

The Armorer: There is no proof I can trust. You have to bring a witness who has seen you bathe in the Living Waters and can vouch for you. It has to be somebody neutral. For example, a Jedi

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt.5

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: Skinny dipping, Wolffe's massive D, some minor agression/violence, possessive behaviors, general Crosshair assholery, Hunter's an idiot

Bruh we finally gonna get through this slow burn I promise. Bear with me. Anyways...get intoit I guess

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"Again… or Lula gets it." Crosshair aimed his pistol at the stuffed bunny sitting on top of one of the crates.

Both you and Wrecker screamed, demanding Lula’s immediate liberation, but he just fired a warning shot, barely missing her ear.

"Alright!" You screamed under duress. You turned back to Hunter, who was waiting for you to strike. "Kriffing dictator," you mumbled, making Hunter snort.

"Lock in, Pip," Hunter rasped. "One pin and you can go eat lunch."

You huffed, knowing this was going to be a challenge. The past week had been tough on all of you. You had been enlisted in joining the other medics in caring for the injured regs, which, after the first few days, you realized the campaign in liberating Kashyyyk from separatist and Trandoshan occupation was going to take much longer than anyone had anticipated. The problem seemed to be worse than the Jedi Council had thought.

The boys had become relentless in your training. The second you’d be off shift, they’d be lording your food overhead in exchange for a few hours of combat training. You complied, desperate for something to fill your belly. You noticed you were starting to get stronger, your body was getting a little more hardened, and you were starting to actually like it, though you’d never tell them that, or else they’d just keep you at it until you collapsed.

Your little training sessions even started to get the attention of the 104th boys. They’d gather in small groups, trying to watch you like a sporting event. You were confused at first, but Tech informed you they were staring because they’ve never seen an omega fight before. It was unnatural, to Crosshair's point.

But even the grumpy sniper came around; he realized being with them, a special forces group, put you in a uniquely vulnerable position compared to an average medic. (It definitely wasn’t because Hunter beat him over the head with the idea until he agreed.) That's when he started threatening Lula’s life to coerce you into playing their games.

"Get him, omega!" A couple of Wolf Pack boys barked from the trees. You were pretty sure they were the same clones you had treated that morning.

You glared at them and then dropped your fists, looking to Hunter with soft eyes, begging him to stop. He relaxed, recognizing you were uncomfortable, deciding to end your training early. The 104th boys groaned disappointed, making Hunter shrug. Even Crosshair sighed annoyingly, lowering his blaster.

When you were in close enough proximity to your unsuspecting Sergeant, you quickly snaked your boot out, just like he showed you, and flipped him to the ground. You saw a brief moment of surprise when he hit the moss-covered floor before his eyes focused in. Just when you were about to jump on top of him to make the pin, he rolled both of you and shoved you off.

You briefly heard the Wolf Pack cheering when you recovered and swung your leg out, taking him down to the ground again. This time you were ready and rolled into his side, grabbing his arm, wrenching it back. He curled in, wrapping his legs around your torso, trying to pry you off. Just when he nearly had you in a pin, you jabbed your two fingers into a nerve point in his thigh, making him yelp and release you. That gave you just enough time to slam your body on top of him and hold him for the pin.

"Damn," Wolffe crossed his arms, walking up to the two of you from the clearing, impressed with what he was seeing.

"Good job," Hunter stood up, helping you with him. "You’re getting better, Pip."

"Can I go eat now?" You asked pleadingly, hearing your stomach growl.

He just nodded and let you go. You smiled and ran off with Wrecker, starving for Echo’s cooking.

Wolffe stood there watching you disappear back into the Marauder with his good eye. "Why are you training her?"

Hunter crossed his arms. "She’s been in some tough situations. She doesn’t have the same protections she would have with the 501st when working with us."

Wolffe nodded. "I heard about the incident on Crait. General Plo is concerned with the implications."

Hunter nodded solemnly. It was still a bit of a sore topic if he was being honest. He prided himself on being a good Sergeant who cared deeply for his unit and tried his best to keep them safe even in the most dangerous scenarios.

"Have you heard anything else?" Wolffe asked.

Hunter just shook his head. "Nothing beyond what we experienced. Though I’m sure the council has it under control."

Wolffe just nodded and turned to look at the war camp in the distance. Campfires billowed in the distance while his men gathered, making their meals.

"So…" He noticed Hunter side-eye him. "She yours or what?"

Hunter narrowed his glare. "Commander?" He felt his heart rate increase and a possessive tightness in his chest.

"Did you mate her on Crait?" Wolffe pressed.

Hunter faced him square on.

"Y/N is her own person," Hunter corrected, trying to keep his calm despite his growing hatred for the scarred alpha in front of him. "Besides almost killing her, no, no one has laid a hand on her."

Wolffe just rolled his eyes. "You don’t have to pretend with me, Sergeant. No alpha can resist that."

Hunter bit his tongue, wanting nothing more than to punch that smug look off of Wolffe’s face. Hunter was all too aware of how you made the regs turn their heads when you graced them with your presence. He knew his men were guilty of it as well. Y/N was a perfect omega. Every alpha's scents seemed to spike in your presence; he was shocked you couldn’t smell it. They were all praying you’d give them a little attention or a gentle touch. It was driving him crazy.

"Relax," Wolffe looked at Hunter's flexing fists. "I won’t do anything to your little medic… unless she asks." His smile was devilish. Hunter watched the Commander return back to his men, who were getting rowdy in the field up ahead.

Hunter took a deep breath, trying to force his racing heartbeat to calm. Crosshair came prowling up behind him silently like a loth-cat. "What was that all about?"

Hunter grunted and looked at his brother. "He asked if she was my mate."

Crosshair put a new toothpick up to his lips. "He’s been after her since Coruscant." Crosshair’s tone was nonchalant. "He’ll lose interest eventually."

Hunter shook his head annoyed; he doubted that. He returned back to the Marauder with Crosshair for their lunch before Wrecker elected to eat their portions too.

Hunter was going to be keeping an eye on Wolffe from here on out… that was final.

It was about the fifth week into the battle of Kashyyyk when you noticed the change. The boys seemed to have altered their behavior around you drastically.

At first, it seemed harmless, just alphas being alphas. They’d walk at least five paces behind you everywhere, even when you’d be called into a shift in the triage tent. They’d wait outside, talking, until it was time for you to clock out and return back with them for more training.

Then it turned into something… different.

It first started with Crosshair when he had decided he wanted to teach you how to start shooting more long-range. He had arranged you how he liked on the ground around firepuncher. When he wasn’t happy with your grip, he knelt down next to you, keeping his hands on yours a little longer than usual. Then came your positioning. He suddenly decided he didn’t like that either, so he kneeled down, using his own knees to part your legs and push your left into a more bent position. You felt your face heat up as your ass pressed against his firm thighs. He acted like nothing was amiss, but you were struggling more than usual trying to hit the target in front of you.

Then there was Tech. He had asked for a bit of assistance when fiddling with some panels under the ship’s console. You laid down next to him, helping hold some wires while he soldered carefully, and instead of asking you to pass him the needle-nose pliers, he just reached over you, pressing you into the ground with his weight. You struggled to breathe calmly as his face nearly pressed into your neck while he reached for the tools. He had done this a few more times, making you absolutely squirm next to him.

Wrecker had been a little more needy the past few weeks, asking you to look at small cuts and bruises. You think it was just because you had always babied him a little more than the others, but now he was becoming insistent that you look at every single injury and giving you a pout if you denied him. You were suspecting he was causing these little injuries just to get your attention.

Lastly was Hunter. While he was a bit more discreet, he definitely didn’t miss an opportunity to brush up against you or place a hand on your back as he passed by. One particular night you had been bent over the bathroom sink rinsing toothpaste from your mouth when he suddenly needed to shimmy by you to grab his razor from the shower caddy. You had shot up, and he apologized with a tap to your hip before leaving with his things. You just stood there in shock, trying to figure out if you were just imagining things.

This morning, Tech accompanied you when you had to clock in for rotations at the medic’s tent. You gave him a little wave before disappearing through the canvas curtains. You walked up to the 104th medic in charge and handed him your charge card. He punched you into the system and let you go on your way.

"Hey Y/N!" Your new friend, Tanan, called out to you. He was an omega in the GAR civilian medic program too and he has been stationed with the 104th since the beginning of their campaign.

"Hi Tanan." You smiled, setting down your canteen and snack sack.

"Got a lot coming in today," he said, looking around at all of the regs lying in cots. He flipped back his blonde hair, trying to tie it behind his head to keep it out of his brown eyes.

"What happened?" You noticed all of their field bandages.

"Shrapnel," he replied, sanitizing his laser suture.

"Bomb?" You looked around at the charring on their armor, letting you know it was some kind of incendiary.

"Most likely," he said, handing you a pair of gloves. You grabbed a pair of sterile tweezers and walked up to the first trooper who was sitting on the edge of his cot.

"Hello, trooper," you smiled and softly approached him.

He looked at you with wide eyes. "Are you the medic?" he asked.

You nodded and knelt down next to him, setting your things next to him on the cot.

"Mhmm. I’m Y/N."

"I’m CT- 3678, but my vod call me Tack."

"Nice to meet you, Tack." You reached out, tilting his face to the side. There was a tattoo running along the side of his neck all the way under the collar of his blacks.

"What happened?" You asked, picking up the tweezers and starting to pluck little shards of metal out of his cheek.

"Clankers set off a big one," he said, looking up at you, "never seen something like that before."

"It was guerrilla Trandoshan made," a clone behind Tack chimed in.

You just scrunched your nose disapprovingly and concentrated on your work. The alpha in front of you relaxed the more you plucked from him. You were certain it was uncomfortable. A lot of shrapnel patients have been coming in the past few days, but today seemed to be the worst. The metal was strange, shimmering green, nothing like you’d ever seen before.

"I don’t recognize your clothes," Tack said, looking at your green pants, "Are you GAR?"

"Oh yeah," you smiled, "My uniform got messed up a few weeks ago after the first wave so I had to resort to the civvies." The white GAR uniform didn’t stand a chance out here on the front lines. Instead, you opted for your darks and your identifying badge.

"Ahh," he said, nodding.

"I’m not usually out of base for this long so I wasn’t really prepared."

"You’re not with the 104th?" He asked. He must be a shiny.

"No." You tilted his head back and forth, looking for any missed pieces, "I’m with the 99’s."

"The 99’s?" The other clone asked from over Tack’s shoulder, "The commandos?"

You nodded. "Alright, I think I got it all. Let me get some bacta, and you’ll be cleared." You grabbed an applicator and began dotting it over the cuts.

"Wait, are you the omega Commander’s always talking about?"

"What?" You looked at the other clone, giving Tack a tap on the shoulder, letting him stand.

"Yeah, he’s always going on about the omega running with the 99’s!" He smiled, "Told us about the attack on Crait."

You paled. In the background, a clone trooper screamed in pain, making you focus back on your work.

"What’s your name?" You asked, moving on to him, grabbing your scanner.

"Grim."

"I’m Y/N, and yeah, I guess I’m that omega." You shook your head and started scanning the clone. You noticed the way he clutched his arm, and your scans confirmed it was dislocated.

"Sweet." He looked at you with playful eyes. You raised a brow at him, "You got something to say, trooper?"

He smiled, "Commander said you were pretty…"

You took his arm and looked him in the eyes before aggressively resetting the limb. He let out a pained gasp, not expecting you to do that so suddenly and mercilessly.

"He was right." He gritted out, clutching the arm.

"What’s your position?" You asked, walking over to the supply bin to get a fresh sling. You ripped open the plastic baggie and walked back over to him.

"Sniper," he groused, starting to feel the dull pain in his shoulder.

You laughed, "Oh, you’d like one of my alphas then…"

He quirked a brow, "One of?”

You felt your cheeks redden. "Sorry, they're pack. I meant, we have an enhanced sniper. His name is Crosshair. He hates everyone though... except firepuncher."

Grim chuckled. "Oh yes, my little lady is my favorite girl as well." He gestured to the rifle leaned up against his cot. You just smiled and sent him on his way.

What is it with snipers and their guns?

The day continued like this. Tech only came to bother you when Echo had lunch ready, but by the time the sun was setting, you were exhausted and covered in blood and various gross fluids. With a sigh, you cracked your back and stretched your arms, eager to eat some chow and get to bed, but first, you wanted to wash up.

The Marauder’s water supply had been recycled too many times to be considered usable, so your squad had resorted to hiking down to the river to wash up and do laundry. You had begged Tech to fly the Marauder closer to the lake to drain the reserves and refill with fresh water, but he didn’t want to waste any fuel before they could return to Coruscant. You pouted but knew he was right in the end.

"Ready?" Crosshair asked, meeting you outside the medic center.

You just nodded and followed after him as he walked you through the camp. You passed groups of men you’d "kind of" come to know over the past few weeks, along with Wookiee leaders and warriors. Once you passed through the camp, the hike back to the Marauder was mostly in the dark. All you could see was the campfire in the distance, with Echo tending to whatever meat Wrecker and Hunter had tracked down that day.

"I’m going to wash up first." You gestured to your ruined outfit. He just nodded and detoured to the fire while you rifled through your things, looking for the soap packets and a fresh pair of clothes.

"I’ll be back!" You called out to the boys before starting your trek through the darkening woods. Passing all the familiar trail markers, you could hear the river rushing up ahead. You grabbed your little solar lantern and flicked it on, setting it down on your favorite rock. Looking around to make sure the coast was clear, you began stripping down to nothing, throwing your dirty clothes in the wash basket you had woven with Tech’s instruction on the second week on Kashyyyk.

You took a deep breath before toeing into the freezing cold water. You let out a little squeal as you sank in, fully submerging yourself in the lazy water. This was the moment where you always began to miss the heated showers on the Marauder. The water was chilling, it made your muscles start to lock up if you took too long.

Moving quickly, you reached up to the rock, grabbing a packet of hair wash and tearing open the brown paper, pouring the contents into your hand. You rubbed your hands together, causing the powder to rehydrate, and then you lathered it everywhere. Scrubbing your scalp aggressively, you were determined to get every little bit of sweat and blood out of your locks. Once satisfied, you sunk under the water, letting the current rinse out the suds.

When you resurfaced, you heard the telltale sound of someone approaching through the woods. You lowered yourself below the currents and silently huddled closer to the rock, feeling your heart start to race.

"Nah, Corporal said tomorrow we have a new mission objective—" One of the men said. You peeked around from your hiding spot to see a trooper chucking his shirt over his head and throwing it onto a rock, reaching down for his waistband.

You bit your lip and moved back around the rock, determined to finish up and get out without being seen. You reached up and turned off your lantern and grabbed your body detergent. You quickly got to work, taking your scrub brush to your nails, trying to get as much crusted blood out of them while the men bathed, unaware of your presence.

You heard them continue to talk about Corporal Comet as they stripped down and jumped into the water, yelling and making all types of noise.

It was time to scrub your dirtied clothes after giving them some time to soak. You reached around the rock, grabbing the loose weave basket and bringing it in front of you. In the process, you knocked over a round rock, hearing it plonk into the river.

"Hey! What was that?" One of the men said, and your heart jumped.

"Kriff," you whispered, throwing your unwashed clothes up onto the shore and crawled out, grabbing your towel. You quickly wrapped it around you and squatted down to finish your washing. You heard them coming and knew you had no other option but to just stay there and pretend like you didn’t hear them.

"Warthog, is that you?" You heard one of them yell.

"Tryna cop a peek?" They laughed from over the stones.

"You're a freak," one of them chastised.

You just tucked the towel a little tighter around yourself as one of them climbed around one rock, stopping in their tracks.

"Oh shit!" He immediately realized his mistake. "S-sorry…"

"What are you looking at, trooper?..."

Then you were met with one grey, scarred eye that made your throat instantly tighten up.

Up above, Wolffe and one of his troopers stared down at you in all their naked glory. You coughed and quickly shot your eyes upward, trying to avoid looking at their bodies. Clone standards apparently didn’t apply to the Commander. He was well-endowed, and you instantly felt your face redden at the realization.

Only the trooper had the humility to be self-conscious, covering himself and shrinking back down the rock and into the water. Meanwhile, the commander in front of you didn’t seem phased in the slightest; he carried himself with so much confidence standing there.

He let out a low whistle. "Sorry, mesh’la," he smirked. "Didn’t know you were over here."

"I’m just finishing up," you fidgeted, tightening your towel and praying for him to go back to his washing.

"No need to rush on our account," he flashed you a charming smile, showing off his white teeth as he folded his arms across his broad, muscular chest, puffing out slightly. He had a couple of scars littering his pecs along with a wolf tattoo on his ribs. He was clearly enjoying your mortification.

"I, uh... I…" You went to step back, but a loose rock wobbled under your bare foot, causing you to lose your balance. Wolffe reached forward to catch you, but when he grabbed your arm, you both went tumbling into the water. You screamed as you were totally submerged in the freezing water; all you heard was his disgruntled grunt before being swept under.

The undercurrents suddenly made it difficult to surface as you felt yourself being dragged downstream, ripping your towel from your body as you passed over bedrocks. You paddled weakly, but you weren’t a skilled swimmer, and the water was much stronger this far out.

You suddenly felt a warm arm wrap around your midsection, and the force of the water as Wolffe dragged you up to the surface, clutching you close to his front. You pawed wildly at the water, sputtering and coughing like a drowned tooka as he swam with the two of you.

"I got you," he said, finding his footing and lifting the two of you into the shallows again. "Relax!"

You went limp under his arm, letting him rescue the two of you. His broad hand wrapped securely around your rib cage, holding you firm against his large body as he trudged closer to shore. When he finally could keep the two of your heads above water, you tried wriggling free again, suddenly hyper-aware of your nakedness.

"Omega. Stop," he growled, trying to keep his grip. He leaned forward, grabbing onto a smooth rock and hauling you out of the path of the currents. You panted, trying to calm your racing heart. You weren’t sure if it was from the fear of drowning or the fact that Wolffe’s deliciously strong and warm naked body was pleasantly pressed against your back right now. You wanted to rub yourself further into him; your entire body was freezing except for the warmth radiating off of him, it was sinful.

"Wolffe," you cleared your throat, coughing up the last of the water.

He slowly let go of you, keeping you on the shallower side of the riverbank. You wrapped your arms around your chest, covering yourself before turning to face him. "Thanks," you sighed, shoving your soaked hair back out of your eyes and letting yourself catch your panicked breath.

"Any time, mesh’la," he said, fighting to catch his breath, letting his chest heave. "Your boys always keeping you out of trouble, huh?"

You laughed quietly, starting to shiver. "Pretty much."

"Come here," he said, offering you his hand. You hesitantly took it and let him pull you into him so he could warm you. Keeping one hand sturdy on the rock, he used the other to hold you close and warm your chilled skin. You shuddered, pressing further into his plush chest. His scent was delicious, spiced and salty. You couldn’t help but take a deep breath in, letting it dance along your scent receptors; your omega was thrilled.

"Can you swim?" he asked softly.

You shook your head. "I was born and raised on Coruscant. I’ve never swum before or even really seen so much water before." You remembered what Rex had told you about Tapoca City and how the entire civilization was surrounded by water. The clones probably had plenty of swimming experience.

"Cyra’ika, you gotta be more careful," he shook his head, rubbing your back soothingly.

"I know," you agreed. "I didn’t really anticipate this happening." You felt his rough hands rub slow circles into your back, and you sighed, finally starting to warm up again.

“I lost my towel,” you groaned, realizing you had absolutely nothing to dry yourself off with or keep you covered in any way.

“I’ll get you mine,” he said, standing up straight and looking over your shoulder. “Stay here.”

You nodded and sat down on the smooth rock, keeping your chest covered as he crawled out of the river and began walking back to where his men were.

“What the fuck?” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head. Echo’s going to eat this up, you already knew.

Wolffe returned quickly, sporting a pair of black briefs when he handed you his towel. You took it from him, keeping your back turned as you wrapped yourself in it. It smelled like him, warmed spice, and you fought back a little purr bubbling up in your chest.

“Here,” he handed you his hand again. “Let’s get you back.”

To your pack. You hesitated, making him furrow his brow. You took his hand, but you knew this was going to cause a ruckus. He helped pull you up the slippery rock as you used the other hand to hold his towel closed, trying to keep a shred of your dignity together.

You could already hear the lecture Hunter was going to give you. Spending time alone with the Commander, nonetheless naked. Ugh. You should have told Wolffe to let you drown. But the view as the Commander’s tight ass was certainly was making it worth it. His back was rippled with muscles along with his sturdy thighs. You wanted to lean forward and sink your teeth into him. You had to take a deep breath before things got out of control and he noticed arousal scenting from you.

When Wolffe finally got you back to where you had left your things, you quickly realized, in your fall, the splash had soaked your clothes too.

“Kriff,” you bent down, holding up your little sleep t-shirt. The grey fabric was soaked through along with your fresh panties and sleep pants.

Wolffe just snickered and turned his back, letting you change in peace. Well, at least he’s honorable, you thought to yourself when you brought the soggy shirt over your head. You slid your panties up, cringing at the coldness, and then finally the sleep pants.

“This is awful,” you mumbled, picking up your other things. Wolffe laughed and left to get changed too, yelling something to his unit about returning to camp. They hollered at him when he returned to find you standing there with your wet laundry and dirty clothes in hand.

He took the lantern and let you lead the way through the now-dark forest. When you started to smell whatever food Echo had doctored up, your stomach growled, desperate for a hot meal.

“You should go,” you turned to take the solar lantern in your hands.

“Why?” he smirked. “Afraid your pack won’t approve?”

“I know they won’t,” you jested. “They’re protective.”

He gave an amused huff. “Well, thanks for the thrill, omega,” he smiled, turning on his heel back towards the river, giving you a good view of that ass.

“My name is Y/N!” you called after him.

“I know,” he winked at you.

You bit your lip, watching him fully disappear into the darkness before you trudged the last trail back to the Marauder. Your head was spinning. You thanked the maker you had your suppressor implant; without it, you knew you’d be acting like a pathetic horny teenager. Being rescued by a hot, rugged alpha had to be top-tier omega fantasy material. You giggled, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. You bit your lip thinking about how solid he felt against your back and wondered how solid other parts of him were too…

When you rounded the corner of the Marauder, you found your pack carrying on with their little evening tasks.

“Y/N, you’re back,” Tech acknowledged you before squinting his eyes, scrutinizing your attire. “Why are you wet?”

You looked down, realizing how pathetic you looked. “I, uh… I fell into the currents and almost drowned,” Wrecker spun around, looking at you in shock.

“Are you okay?” he asked, standing up and putting his dinner bowl down. Hunter looked at you from his bowl too. You thought it was strange he didn’t immediately ask as well. He looked almost… angry?

“Yeah, I’m just cold,” you set your things down and wrung out your hair, shivering.

Crosshair suddenly appeared from the darkness of the direction of the 104th war camp. You didn’t even notice him walk up on you.

One second you were standing next to the fire, and the next you were being thrown up against the side of the Marauder with Crosshair's arm being shoved across your chest with a rough thud. You yelped when your back connected with the hard durasteel.

“Crosshair!” Wrecker yelled in shock. “What the fuck?”

You looked at him wildly, wondering what the hell had gotten into him. He gave you a nasty look. “I can smell him from their camp,” he snarled, pushing you a little harder with a deep, menacing growl.

You let out a pained whine as he pushed you harder against the ship. You desperately looked to Hunter to intervene, but he just sat there, fisting his spork.

Crosshair bared his teeth at you. “You fuck him, huh Y/N? That kriffing reg!”

Feeling yourself panic, your instincts took over, and you bared your neck to him in submission, praying it would appease him. “Alpha, please… it hurts.” Your voice was pathetic, but you’d never had any of your packmates ever corner you like this. It was terrifying.

He snapped down to you slightly, letting up on you just a little. The use of his designation seemed to soften him slightly.

Then in a flash, a blur of dark grey came from the left, and Crosshair was suddenly thrown from your chest. You collapsed down to your knees, clutching your damp chest, heaving. When you looked over to the right, you saw Wolffe and Crosshair throwing punches at one another in a flurry on the ground.

You let out a horrified scream that echoed throughout the forest, causing Hunter to wince.

“Get your fucking hands off of her,” Wolffe landed a particularly hard punch to Crosshair’s jaw. “She’s your pack!”

Crosshair returned his fist in kind to his solar plexus, making the Commander lunge forward and throw the sniper into the side of the ship just next to you. You cried out and ran towards Wrecker for safety while the two Alphas got into it. The big clone wrapped his arms around you protectively, keeping you out of the way of harm and swinging fists.

“Keep your fucking hands off her, reg!” Crosshair growled.

“What the hell is going on up here?” A few regs from the camp started making their way over, hearing the commotion. Hunter put his bowl down and walked over to the two fighting and grabbed Wolffe by the shirt, wrenching him up off of his brother.

You took a breath, thinking Hunter was going to break up the fight. Instead, you watched your Sergeant wind his fist back and throw a sharp punch to Wolffe’s cheek. It connected with a snap, and you were certain you saw blood.

Then it was madness. Wolffe’s men jumped into the fight, forcing Echo and Tech to run in as backup, their brothers. It was nothing but a whirlwind of fists and boots and raging alphas. The other regs and some Wookiees stood on the sides, yelling at the brawl.

“Stop, please!” You screamed and begged, feeling the tears slide down your cheeks. “Alpha, please!”

No one was listening. The fight only seemed to get more violent. You cried and turned back to Wrecker, refusing to watch the brutality. He just maneuvered you two out of the way and kept his hand on the back of your wet head, trying to console you, even though it was killing him he couldn’t leave to help his brothers.

“Alright, enough!” A booming voice shook the camp. Master Plo stood before the group, using a deep commanding voice and the force.

The fighting seized immediately. The regs froze in place, fists raised and bloody. Wolffe threw Crosshair off of him, and he walked over to you, raising your chin to make sure your alpha hadn’t hurt you ignoring Wrecker’s warning glare.

The general crossed his arms, looking at the absolute disaster his commander was directly involved in. Then he looked to you and extended an arm in your direction. “Are you alright, little Y/N? Are you hurt?” He used the same tone he had used with Ahsoka when they were together. Plo’s fatherly concern made you cry more.

You shook your head. “I’m alright, General,” the tears still poured down your face. Wrecker gave your back a little rub.

Plo nodded and looked back to the panting alphas.

“Back to your bunks,” he ordered, forcing all of the regs to leave, wiping the blood from their lips.

That left you with the general, Wrecker, and Wolffe.

Wolffe just looked at you, despite the blood dripping from his brow and chin. His eyes were searching for something.

“This ends now,” General Plo pointed down towards the ground with emphasis. “We have a war to focus on.”

“Yes, General,” they all replied, including your unit.

When Plo Koon turned on his heel and stalked back to camp, you felt Wolffe’s hand press up against your arm. “There’s always room for you with us,” he looked over his shoulder. “If you want.” He was giving you an out.

The alpha was making an official offer to adopt you into his pack. Your heart started beating fast the longer you gazed up into his eyes. It was a big offer. Clearly, Wolffe didn’t trust the others to play nice.

Crosshair had to put a hand on Hunter’s shoulder before the Sergeant started another fight. Seeing his hands on you was making him feral.

You just nodded and thanked him for saving you one last time before watching him follow his General through the dark grass. When you turned back to the others, your face turned into a snarl. You couldn’t even speak to them. You shoved Wrecker’s hands off of you and you marched up the stairs of the ship before locking yourself in your bunk.

~~~

You kept your back turned on Tech when he finally returned to the bunks. He was smart not to say anything, tasting your anger in the air. When you finally heard all of them settle in for the night and their grumbling hushed down, you got up to confirm your theory and stepped out into the galley. All of their doors were closed, and you walked down to Wrecker’s bunk, hitting the access panel to let the door slide open.

He lifted his head, staring at your form in the doorway.

“Pip?” he asked, squinting his eyes to see you in the dark. “What are you doing?”

“Can I stay with you?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Uh, yeah. Sure!” He tried his best to shimmy over to give you what little room he could on his comically small bunk.

You lifted the blanket and slid in next to him, letting out an angry huff. He didn’t ask because he already knew what was wrong. He just let you maneuver however you wanted before you settled into his side. He clutched Lula to his chest and let out a big yawn before quickly falling into a deep sleep. You only wished you could fall asleep as easily as Wrecker; the giant snoozed peacefully while you lay awake.

You breathed in his comforting scent and stared at his door, knowing Hunter was just across the hall, probably nursing his wounds. Good, you thought. He should be hurting for letting Crosshair do what he did.

You were seething.

He let Crosshair manhandle you like a fucking animal without even intervening. He just sat there, looking pissed behind his stupid bowl of rations. He probably had heard you and Wolffe and that's why he didn’t step in… stupid territorial fuck head alphas. 

Even Tech, sweet Tech, of all the brothers you thought would come to your aid… nope. He just sat there watching it unfold.

You’re giving Echo a hall pass because he was busy making the food and definitely didn’t have enough time to react before Wolffe stepped in. Plus, you knew you’d need someone to talk to.

You shivered, thinking about that murderous look in the commander’s eyes. He must have heard from the woods and came running to your aid. Twice in one night, the alpha came to your rescue.

Then he offered you a place in his pack… You rubbed your exhausted eyes, rolling over onto your back. Wrecker grumbled something in his sleep before reaching an arm over and wrapping it around your middle, snuggling you closer like you were Lula. You decided this was a problem for tomorrow, but right now you wanted to go to sleep. The day had finally caught up to you, and you felt yourself slipping.

You relaxed into Wrecker’s warmth and let sleep take you.

~~~

“It’s been a week,” Hunter grizzled, watching you leave for your morning shift. Echo was the only one you’d allow to accompany you on your little journeys into the growing war camp. Other than that, you haven’t even looked at your unit, letting them stew in your silence.

Tech shifted uncomfortably, “I believe she’s waiting for us to apologize.”

Crosshair grunted, “For what?”

“Well, you did force her to submit under your threatening behavior,” Tech looked to his little brother, “Most omegas don’t take too kindly to that.”

“What do you know about omegas?” Crosshair narrowed his eyes.

Tech just bristled and continued staring at the breakfast grains.

“She can’t keep this up much longer,” Hunter sighed.

“I hate it!” Wrecker sobbed, “You better say you're sorry!” Wrecker missed you. You hadn’t been talking to anyone, and that included him. He just watched you in silence when you came back to the ship to sleep and change your clothes. He tried so many times to bribe you into giving him attention, but you just smiled and nodded instead.

“She’s most likely going to take up Wolffe’s offer if either of you don’t say something,” Tech looked at Hunter, who just soured over his breakfast, “I’m seldomly wrong.”

“He can have her if she prefers those regs,” Crosshair snapped.

Wrecker just groaned and threw his head back dramatically.

“Fine,” Hunter stood up, “I’ll go and apologize. Hopefully, she’s willing to listen.”

“A little groveling may be beneficial,” Tech pushed his goggles up his nose, “and she usually enjoys being fed snacks. That may be a good bribe.”

Hunter brushed off his pants and began his walk into camp, “Thanks for the recommendation.” Hunter felt like ripping out his own nails might be more pleasurable than facing the brewing wrath of his tiny little medic.

Hunter was approaching the ridge when he heard a strange buzzing. Looking around, he didn’t see anything but instead grabbed his com, “Hey, does anyone else hear that?”

“Negative, Sarge,” Wrecker responded.

Hunter then looked to his left and noticed a formation of strange-looking LAAT/c ships approaching. They slowed on approach to the camp, and Hunter noticed that they were empty inside. Where were the infantry? He reached for his scopes to get a better look.

Then something unexpected happened. The gunships halted their advance, and Hunter noticed multiple battle droids appear inside the main cabins.

“Oh shit,” he started running towards the camp, “Battle droids on approach!” He yelled into the com, hoping anyone would hear him, “Commander Wolffe come in!”

Then the camp suddenly turned into madness. The battle droids pushed out red-looking torpedoes from the side openings, watching them plummet directly into the war camp below. With a massive explosion, plumes of crimson powder billowed over the entire camp like a fog. Hunter froze in place, staring in horror as the smoke began to spread rapidly among the 104th.

“Oh no,” Tech caught up to Hunter, coming to the same halt, “Is that-”

Hunter’s attention immediately went to the triage center, “Y/N…”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Dunndundun...

Next chapter gonna be a doozie... sryntsry the slow burn's turning into a wild fire next update.

Taglist: @substantial-exposure @rains-on-kamino @minimissmoo

[better-call-mau1]

Here’s my entry for Sabezra-Dinbo Solidarity Week! It’s a short, silly little ficlet, so I included it under the cut, too. 👇

Enjoy Ezra preparing to skinny dip in the Living Waters — some Mandos are less enthusiastic about that than others. 😁

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The Jedi boy froze, his left boot halfway off his leg.

“I’m going for a swim.”

Planting a hand on her hip, Bo struck him with a ‘this-is-not-the-time-nor-place-for-your-cavalier-impudence’ glare.

“I know you’re going for a swim.” She gestured out to the dark, glassy surface of the Living Waters. “What I don’t understand is why you’re taking off your clothes. Here. Now. In front of us. I told you it’s freezing down there, didn’t I?”

With his shirt already crumpled on the stone steps, Bridger, standing at the water’s edge, was precisely one boot and a loosened belt away from standing there in his skivvies — or even less. The boy had spent the last several years away from civilization, but it never crossed her mind that Wild Space might’ve turned him into a feral nudist.

She wasn’t an expert on this particular Jedi and his particular eccentricities — only that he had a gift for connecting with lifeforms of all shapes and sizes. Luckily, the Mandalorian who knew Bridger best (and had been watching him undress in spellbound silence), happened to be standing right beside her.

Bo nudged Sabine with her elbow.

“Uh-uh-uh, yeah, Ezra…” she sputtered, blinking out of her stupor, “…why are you taking off your clothes? Not that it’s a problem, of course — you’re the expert here! Do whatever you need to do!”

“He’s not an expert,” Bo sighed, rolling her eyes. Apparently, there were two hundred-ton leviathans in the room: the ancient creature lurking beneath the water, and Sabine’s crush on Bridger. “There aren't any experts. Mythosaurs went extinct millennia ago…except for this one.”

Sabine crossed her arms, focus still fused on the half-naked Jedi. “I trust Ezra to do whatever the Force tells him to do. And if the Force tells him to strip down right in front of meeeeeuuuuuuhhhhhhuuuuussssss…well, then…so be it!”

“Why don’t we just look in the other direction?” spoke a much-needed voice of reason. On Bo’s other side, Din pivoted to face the Mines’ entrance.

“We can — and we should — but that still doesn’t...” Bo balked, calling down to Bridger before he could finish unclasping his belt, “…alright, stop! Just stop. Please. There’s no need for that. You’re in the Mines of Mandalore, not a sauna on Mon Cala.”

Shrugging, he waved his hands around in self-defense. “Hey, you said the Living Waters were the most sacred place in all of Mandalore! I’m just trying to keep from contaminating them! To show the proper reverence, you know?”

“The proper reverence!” yipped Sabine, giddy as a foundling with a flamethrower. “Great thinking, Ezra! Showing the proper reverence is probably very important to the mythosaur. I’m sure he’d hate if you brought a bunch of icky synthetic microfibers into his home!”

“No, I really don’t think he would,” mumbled Bo. She shook her head, dragging a gloved hand across the side of her face.

“There might be something to that,” added Din. Three heads — Bo’s included — jerked to face him. “The Living Waters are a place of purification, and the spring has a high concentration of molecular beskar. To connect with the creature, maybe it’s best to only wear beskar down there. If the mythosaur doesn’t take a liking to the Jedi…we might be eaten next.”

“Right! I’d really hate to become a snack...” Sabine’s teeth caught her bottom lip as she gave the bearded Loth-lad a pair of brazen turbolift eyes. Her voice dropped to a breath, so soft and low that Bo could’ve convinced herself she didn’t hear a thing: “…for a mythosaur.”

She hit her with a flat ‘I heard that’ look — then cuffed her across the back of the head for good measure — before speaking to Din.

“Fair enough. Who knows how picky the mythosaur is about his houseguests? Might as well leave it to the…expert.”

“That’s me!” chirped Bridger, raising his hand in a cheeky salute.

Swiveling around to face the same way as Din, she heard the dull thunk of his other boot hitting the steps, trying not to think about a Jedi, the ancient enemy of Mandalore, skinny dipping in the same pool her ancestor visited thousands of years ago (a qualm which Sabine, who appeared in no great hurry to avert her gaze, clearly did not share).

Bo was fortunate enough to be supplied with a timely distraction.

“When I bathed in the Living Waters before, I didn’t think to wear only beskar,” muttered Din, sounding grim and rueful. “I’ll have to do it again, this time with just my helmet. In the eyes of the Manda, I’m still an apostate. I shouldn’t be calling myself a Mandalorian or instructing Grogu in our ways when I haven’t redeemed myself properly. All this time…”

His voice faded into the background as Bo imagined Din repeating the purification ritual as he’d described.

In just his helmet.

A good friend — which she was to Din, or tried to be — would have listened to him and offered encouragement and support, reassuring him that the spirit of the ritual mattered, and technicalities couldn’t reduce him to anything as bleak as an apostate.

An even better friend would watch his back (and necessarily his backside) to make sure he didn’t plunge off the edge again.

Bo could definitely be that better friend.

SPLASH!

“Mother of gundarks…” Sabine squeaked beside her, evidently having gotten an eyeful before Bridger dove into the Living Waters. “…I guess Ezra did have some beskar on him…buns of beskar.”

Raising an eyebrow, Bo crossed her arms over her breastplate, ignoring the prickle of her own hypocrisy.

“Don’t make me comm your mother, young lady.”

[keldae]

Writer’s Month 2023: Day Five

word: sun | setting/AU: poolside

Dantooine's sun shone warmly in the clear blue sky, radiating down over the little natural pool, tucked away in a hidden ravine close to the hidden Jedi refuge. It was peaceful enough that Korin could almost forget about the Zakuulans roaming the hyperspace lanes, making life hell for the rest of the galaxy.

He sat on the edge of the small pond, watching his companion lazily float on her back in the water. It was nice, he thought, to have this moment of quiet relaxation for both of them. Master Kiwiiks had pretty much ordered him to stay for a few days and rest, when he'd come in last night to deliver supplies to the Jedi – apparently he didn't wear the stress of supporting a growing insurgency as well as he thought. Normally, there would have been – he counted inwardly – three Jedi total that he would have ever willingly taken orders from.

But his Jedi mother had died ages ago. His Jedi sister had been killed early on in the Zakuulan invasion, a year and a half ago. And Master Satele was nowhere to be found. Outside of those three, he was normally inclined to argue with any Jedi who tried to direct him around. 

It really wasn't fair how Kira Carsen could just look at him with those big blue eyes, and he could feel his willpower eroding away. Damned Jedi tricks.

"Credit for your thoughts?" he asked Kira, sliding back into the cool water.

Kira hummed, still floating on her back, her auburn hair creating a halo around her head. "Just thinking about how we'll eventually need to head back before people start to talk."

Korin frowned at the reminder that his time in this blissful oasis, with his cute companion, was limited. "What, they have you on a schedule or somethin'?" He slowly swam over to Kira, taking the time to oogle her slim form in the water. There were multiple reasons why he wasn't eager for them to get dressed and go back to the other Jedi yet, and the opportunity to check Kira out was a big one.

"Nah. But if someone notices we've been gone a while…"

"You're, uh, giving me meditation lessons?"

Kira craned her neck up to look at Korin. "While skinny-dipping in a secluded pond?"

"We're connecting with nature!" Korin insisted, and was rewarded with a laugh from Kira. "Ain't that supposed to be somethin' big with Jedi? This has gotta be a good meditation area – 's quiet, peaceful, nice sunny weather, good company…"

Kira laughed and straightened up to tread water. "And the fact that you got me naked is helping, right? Not distracting you at all?"

"I'm plenty focused, thank you." Korin dragged his eyes back up from Kira’s chest to meet her amused gaze. "Besides, you got me naked too, so…"

“If you could run around the galaxy in the buff without getting arrested for public indecency, you’d do it,” Kira retorted, her eyes alight with laughter. 

“Oh, like you’re complaining…”

“I didn’t say I was.” Kira reached up to lazily drape her arms over Korin’s shoulders, conveniently bringing herself closer to him. “So, what’s your master plan, Captain?”

“Retire rich enough to own my own planet, somewhere Zakuul ain’t found yet,” Korin promptly answered. 

“And in the short term?”

“Make sure that if you get in trouble with the Jedi, that it’s worth it?” The smuggler winked at the pretty Jedi, settling his hands on her waist under the water. “If you’re down for such a plan, that is…”

“You are such a bad influence,” Kira laughed. But from how she leaned in to kiss Korin, he figured she didn’t mind at all. And he definitely was okay with his current situation – it wasn’t every day he got to go skinny-dipping with a pretty Jedi girl, who was more interested in having a good time than in preaching Jedi morality at him.

He could almost forget that this was his late sister’s Padawan as he happily kissed her back. Between the warm sunshine radiating down on his head and shoulders, and Kira in his arms (as a friend, with extremely good benefits, if anyone asked), and the peace and quiet of this little pond, he could easily forget about his stress with the occupation, and his lingering grief for his sister, and even the anxiety about if a stray Jedi were to come upon the pair right then. All he wanted to focus on was Kira.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Masterlist Din Djarin

Updated: May 19th 2024

updated fics/ new fics marked with ->

inevitable (series; M->E)

All your life you thought that there was no way the prophecy would come true. That was until you answered a distress call from a certain Mandalorian

firsts (G)

Din knew it was the best for the kid to go with the Jedi. But on his way back to… he didn’t really know where, there was only one person he would allow to see how sad he really was.

saved (G)

Being saved during a battle by a Mandalorian might have been faith for Alana and her little daughter Leila.

my girl (E)

A Mandalorian crashing into your backyard and ruining your business might have been the best thing that ever happened to you.

Watch me (E)

You try to tease the Mandalorian after taking a skinny dip in the lake. He’s not having it.

one day (M)

One day you would get Din out of his armor to swim with you. Today you succeeded… partially

Happiness (G)

Din finds happiness. And his son finds his old armor.

Equals (E)

A forced marriage wasn’t something Din nor you had intended for your life. But when the council announced you as his fiancée you had no choice if you didn’t want to lose your new home. You fell for him eventually. And when he found out traitors in his own army wanted to take you away from him, he made sure that them and you know who you belong to.

How I met the King of Mandalore (without knowing it) (E)

AU: A business meeting after Christmas takes you to the small kingdom of Mandalore where you meet a handsome stranger at your hotel bar who does not only show you the beautiful town but a side of himself that made you fall for him in a matter of hours. What happens when you run into the same man on your mission to return a child you had run into on your tour through the palace the next day? Did you… accidentally sleep with the next King of Mandalore?

Serve your queen (E)

Din had been gone for a few weeks leaving you in charge of the kingdom. A diplomat from another planet does his best to insult you in front of your people, not knowing that Din was listening to every word he said. After you made sure to tell the diplomat exactly what you are thinking about the way he talks to you, Din has no other choice but to… serve his queen

Punishment (E)

Din, without telling you, took a dangerous job and leaves you alone in the middle of the night, locking you inside the ship. In the weeks he’s gone you have enough time to plan his punishment. A man dressed in metal should know better than to provoke you. Once he made his way back, a few well placed but powerful Magnets leave Din at your mercy.

Eternally (M)

Everything was perfect. Until it wasn't.

Prey (E)

Soulmate AU; It was just supposed to be an easy job. But then he saw you.

Brown Eyes (E)

The empire took everything from you. But you would get your revenge, infiltrating every base until you had enough information. But you weren’t prepared to see those eyes again.

-> Mine (E)

A speeder ride with you gets Din more worked up than he anticipated. Good thing there’s no one around and he could just… take care of his little problem.

prompts:

“I know we’re not together but I might die today so I’m going to kiss you just in case there is no later” (G)

thots:

Din being jealous (E)

[internalsealpanic]

Respectful Cannibalism

Summary:  Watching mystery movie with a bunch of detective was a bad idea

A/n: While this is part 3 to my Space Case series, you’re not required to read Art Gallery Smile or Cosmonauts to understand the context to this. The only note I do have is that Dick and Steph are friends with Reader much to Tim’s everlasting horror.  Special thanks to @littleredwing89 and @glorified-red for proof reading this mess.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and a confusing amount of batkids in one scene.

Main Masterlist

Tim Drake Masterlist

Tim coughs, loud and ragged into the speaker. You find yourself wincing at the phone tucked against your ear. Tim sounds like he’s dying or, at the very least, he’s on his way there. 

“I’m so-”

“Fucking tired of saying sorry that you decided to go skinny dipping in Gotham Harbor? Yeah. Great, I’m sick of hearing it too. Glad, we’re on the same page, Space Cadet.” You exasperate, pulling on your jeans violently enough for Tim to hear the angry shuffling of fabric. 

“Skinny dipping?” Tim huffs, a fond smile playing on his lips as he drinks in the timber of your voice. Even when you were absolutely exasperated, your voice was still soothing or maybe he just misses your company. God, he’s such a sap. 

You shake your head in disbelief. That was his take away? “Yes, Timmy, Buck-ass skinny dipping,” you laugh, coming out derisive and sharp. Tim groans this time filled with guilt. The first few sounds of another ‘I’m sorry’ form in the back of his throat as he runs his hand through his bed head. For once, you’re thankful that you’re nowhere near Tim because you are one apology away from decking him and you’re pretty sure that that’s a terrible thing to do to a sick person, especially one with no brain cells to spare. 

“I- You were really looking forward to this (Y/n), don’t try to deny it.” You weren’t going to. He was right. You were looking forward to this date. You were impossibly, unreasonably giddy over the prospect of going to the planetarium with Tim this afternoon. WITH Tim. Sure, you’re pretty down about it but you were the tiniest bit more  concerned about the fact that your boyfriend had water in his lungs and almost died of hypothermia for a hot second. You pinch the bridge of your nose, hoping that worry and murder radiate off of you in equal measure.  “I was also looking forward to my letter from Hogwarts,” you sneer, pausing dramatically to look at your watch, “and it’s been roughly a decade.”  You hear Tim swallow and the hairs on your neck bristle in petty satisfaction. 

Tim chortles, a lively sound that startles you, then coughs but the sound comes out somehow sounding doubtful and teasing. Embarrassment flares up in you. “You were too!” you protest, hackles drawn to full height. A short breathy laugh leaves Tim and you feel the flush on your face ease into something softer and more rounded. All the sharpness in your veins dissipates as the flash of fondness for that stupid laugh takes over. You can imagine him warm under the covers smiling at the phone at your blunder. “Please, (y/n), my hopes were dashed when I was 4  and still not in the Jedi order.”

“Bullshit, you were never a child,”  you snort, sharpening the grin on your face into something vicious. “I refuse to believe you were ever a child! You probably sprang out of a textbook fully formed- Wait, I’m getting off-topic. ” Tim hums innocently and you narrow your eyes at the phone, hoping he can feel the ‘I am revoking your breathing privileges’ look.  “You always are.” Tim says before falling into a coughing fit. 

“Sorry, Cosmo, I just keep getting lost in your eyes,”  you whisper, pitching your voice rich and caramel smooth. There’s a sound on the other line. Tim is babbling you realize. You hear a shuffle of fabric and a body rising. Tim sucks in a breath, red-faced and caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. He can practically see the cocky grin playing on your face, the light of the sun reflecting as golden flecks in your eyes.  “You can’t even see them!” Tim stammers, glowering at you through the phone. You cackle at him as if sensing the venomous look he’s giving you. “You can barely open them!” Tim rolls his, very much, open eyes, falling back into an unnecessarily large pile of pillows that Alfred insisted was necessary for bed rest with a loud ‘fwoof’. “Yes, I can,” Tim mumbles, sounding young for once. You do your level best to smother a grin on your face. “I’m just really drowsy from the chamomile tea Alfie gave me.” You stop dead in your tracks, one hand half in your coat the other on the doorknob. You blink. “You’re at the Manor?”

Tim pauses, making a frustrated noise. He shouldn’t have said that.  “Dick and B… insisted.” This draws another one of your sharp laughs. He says insisted as if it was ever negotiable. “Did they ‘insist’ before or after they blow-dried and hung you out to dry?” Tim squawks and you hear shuffling again. Tim tries to remember why he doesn’t hate you. “Tell me again how you found out about me getting sick? Steph? Cass?”

“Hmmmmmm, Dick.”

“THAT TRAITOR”

“Funny way to pronounce older brother,” you hum smug. You can feel Tim glaring daggers at you. “You-”

“There’s a home theater, yeah?” 

Tim pauses, this time longer. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“Answer the question, Space Case.”

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Great! It’s a date then,” you say, mentally preparing a route to the Manor from the vague directions Steph told you once. You could just use the maps app- 

“NO!” You freeze. Tim flinches at the volume of his own voice. He  whispers an indiscernible  ‘I’m sorry’. You turn it over in your mind before speaking. “No?” You ask, trying your best to sound hurt instead of amused. Maybe you should have pitched your voice higher, more shaky. “Look, Tim, I-” Tim heaves a loud sigh. “-(Y/n), you’re fine-” Well, you aren’t, you think. You bite your tongue, physically to make sure you don’t say anything unnecessary. “-It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s- It’s just my siblings...” Tim knows that his siblings have been talking about you.  

“Timmy, I can take whatever shovel talk they can give me,” you say with the confidence of someone who has never been dangled over the edge of a roof top. Ok, to be fair, YOU had nothing to worry about. Tim, on the other hand, was going to get roasted alive. Maybe he can persuade you into not- Tim hears the tell tale sputtering of your bike’s engine and he feels his blood pressure spike. The engine genuinely sounds like a death rattle. 

“You’ll get sick.”

You swear and he hears another sputter of the engine. “You’ll get sick,” he croaks again, louder this time hopefully over the dying engine. Maybe if your engine dies right now, he’ll be spared from a slow agonizing death via siblings. “Relax Cosmo, I have the strongest ward against whatever you got,” you say, giving the engine a light kick. Tim hears a few metallic clunks then the engine stutters to life. Tim looks up past the ceiling trying to glare at whatever cosmic being resurrected your engine. 

“Which is...”

“Being broke. It does wonders for your health.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s how it works,” Tim says, shifting burying his head against the too soft pillows. The soft fabric makes his eyes feel heavy. He yawns. He hears the sputter or your laugh. It’s hard to tell from the sudden drowsiness making his head swim. 

“I promise I’ll explain to your typical rich kid ass when I get there, Tim.”

“That’s not how it works,” Tim slurs, face pressed into a pillow. 

You laugh, he’s sure this time. 

“I’m-” Tim’s mind unfocuses and the words you say garble together ”-Tim. ”

Tim blinks, mouth moving to ask you to repeat that but the last thing he hears is a soft click. 

On the bright side, it would just be him and Alfred at the manor.

_________________________________________________________

Batmanisfake: I heard (y/n)'s coming over😶

Nightwingingit:👀 How do you even know that?

Batmanisfake: What are you? A cop?

Nightwingingit: say that again but slowly 🙄

Batmanisfake: ...

Damian: He bugged Drake's phone. For blackmail purposes, of course. 

Nightwingingit: JASON

The Cool One: Shush Dick! He's onto something

Batmanisfake: Thank you 

The Adult: I for once had nothing to do with it😌

Theactualbatman: I'm assuming we're all coming home tonight?

The Cool One: I'll bring popcorn

Damian: Nonsense Pennyworth will likely have some prepared

The Cool One:😭 We really do not deserve that man

Nightwingingit: Definitely

thesaneone: We're recording Tim's face when he sees us, right? 

Batmanisfake: From all angles

The Adult: You're all horrible

Batmanisfake: Please like you're not hacking into the cameras as we speak, Babs

The Adult: You have no proof👀

_________________________________________________________

Tim’s head felt thick and gooey like one of Alfred’s custards. He feels like he’s floating, like he’s in a fish tank. There’s a sickly Chlorine smell clogging his nostrils; it smells powdery and sterile and reminds him vaguely of aspirin. Tim blinks. His eyes hurt; they feel puffy and sore and hot. His vision is further obscured by a thick layer of fleece blankets Alfred had piled high over him. He shuts his eyes still feeling too overwhelmed by the low light coming from the window.

Tim thinks he hears his window open with a soft click. Tim quiets his breathing. His hearing is too muddled to process anything beyond it.  There’s a soft thud of heavy boots in the room; it’s imperceptible and dreamlike the way it reaches his ears that it has him shifting under the covers trying his best to discern the sound. A dozen lighter footsteps follow it and he can sense 6 shapeless bodies hovering over him.

“Should we wake him up?” asks a voice that vaguely sounds like Cass. 

There’s a shuffling sound. Leather, he thinks. “Wait, lemme take a picture.”

“Red, why? It’s not like you can blackmail him with pictures of him sleeping.”

“Because, flashlight, I need proof that Timbo sleeps. ”

“Because?”

“Ok, how many times have you seen him asleep?” 

“Uh...”

“Exactly!”

Tim hears a laugh that distinctly sounds like Dick. “Does it count if Alfie drugged him?”

“Maybe?” Steph says, shrugging. 

“It doesn’t, Brown.”

“Damn it.”

“Does that mean B doesn’t sleep?”

“Nope.”

Maybe if Tim keeps sleeping, they’ll go away on their own. Tim wraps the sheets tightly around himself, hoping the large stack  of fleece would be enough to muffle his siblings. 

“I’m pretty sure I have dibs on waking him for opening the window for you shits.”

“Red, anyone could have opened that,” Duke laughs, stepping slightly behind Cass, who at the moment was paying more attention to the moving pile of fabric. Maybe if Tim stays really still she’ll turn her attention to something else. 

“Cass and Dickface would have just broken it.‘

“I would not!”

“Sorry, Cass, you would.”

“Steph, whose side are you on?”

“Why is no one defending me?” Dick sighs. 

“No one cares, Dickface. And Blondie’s clearly playing for the right team-” Steph cackles. “-none of you have any finesse.”

“Not all of us can be drama queens, Todd.”

“You’re like the third to the last person I wanna hear this from.”

“Third? You’re ranking us now? Who gave you the right?”

“Alfred,” Jason deadpans, “And yeah. Bruce and Dick are first and second.”

“Hey!”

“Can it Mr. Pretty Man Down.”

“That was one-”

“What rank am I?”

“uh … fifth.”

“Fifth?!”

“Sorry, Blondie, Cass has you beat with that ballet kick thingy.”

“Ok, yeah I can accept that. What about Babs?”

“What about Babs? The woman can kick my ass six ways to Sunday. ”

Tim’s head throbs all over. There are soft pin pricks pressing on the sole of his left foot; his leg jerks involuntarily. He wants to scream. Tim swears under his breath. A gloved hand pries the covers away from Tim’s face. Tim squints his eyes open only to be greeted by Dick’s kind, but still very punchable, face. Tim takes a long rasp, pinching his features in a mix of annoyance and despair. “Why are you-” Cough! “-here?”

There’s a slight quirk to Dick’s smile.“They wanted to meet (y/n),” Dick explains in a sweeping theatrical motion of his hand across the room directing Tim’s attention to the expressions on his sibling’s expressions which were all a variation of devious scheming. 

“How did-” cough. “- you even know-” cough. “-(y/n) was coming?” Tim asks, shooting up from his pile of pillows causing a couple of blankets to topple to the floor to the ground. Tim’s lightheaded.  He suddenly feels a shift in his balance, a feeling of vertigo.   He nearly topples to the ground, his blood not quite catching up to his movements, when feels hands wrap around his shoulders. “Woah there Baby Bird, slowdown.”

“Answer-” Cough!

“It was Todd.”

“You mutant sperm!”

“Jay, aren’t we all mutant sperm?” Steph laughs, slinging one arm over an irate Damian’s shoulders and another over a fuming Jason’s shoulders. Tim groans, sounding pained. “How much do I need to pay each of you to get all of you to go away?”

“A lifetime of IOUs,” Dick says, casually. 

“NO!”

“All of your share in W.E.,” Duke says, laughing. Steph elbows him lightly, also laughing. “You’re shooting prelow there, Slick,” Steph teases. Duke shrugs still grinning. “Gotta  keep it realistic, yanno?”  Steph and Duke keep bickering. 

“Drake, kindly, pay with your life.”

Tim scrunches his nose. “I’m already on my deathbed, you know, dying. What else do you want from me?”

“A more agonizing death.”

Jason grins, tilting his chin. “C’mon, Timbo, we can help with your little impromptu date.” Tim groans, placing his face in his hands. “Please just help me dig my own grave.”

“What would be the fun in that, Timbo?”

“For you or for me?”

“Come on, Tim, it’ll be fine,” Cass says,  clearly not believing the words herself. All seven of them dissolve into another round bickering. Damian, Jason, and Steph hellbent on giving Tim an aneurysm.  Duke and Cass playing at being neutral; Duke leaning on Tim’s side but laughing way too hard at Steph’s well placed jabs; Cass is only mildly siding with Tim to spite Jason. Why this time? Tim has no clue. 

The string of banter is broken up by the echoing the doorbell. Tim’s heart seizes as they all fall silent, enraptured by the odd sound of a doorbell filling the hallowed halls of Wayne Manor. The chiming of bells ends with the creaking of the large oak doors in the front of the manor. 

Before Tim’s sluggish brain could even formulate a thought, all of his siblings are all bounding towards the door, bouncing off the walls and flipping over obstacles. Tim scrambles, lagging, after the hoard of vigilantes barrelling towards you. Tim tries to shout after his siblings but his voice is drowned out by raucous laughter and bickering. 

You stand at the door, head haloed by the pale afternoon light as the sky catches fire, flecks of snow sparkling in your hair. You tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear as you sheepishly thank Alfred as he takes your coat.  

Tim struggles to breathe an he genuinely doesn’t know if it’s because of his lungs, you, or the fact that of all his siblings, Babs was the one who got there first and Tim genuinely doesn’t know if Babs is there to hold off the gaggle of vigilantes or to scare you off. From the jovial grin wrinkling your features, Tim’s pretty sure Babs just gave you some blackmail material instead of putting you through the ringer- an equally scary outcome. For your part, you don’t look even slightly phased by the fact that Babs is in a wheelchair or even by the way she’s clearly sizing you up. All of this rolls off of you with an easy motion of your shoulders as you answer her questions in the most frustratingly oblique way based off of Babs’s expression. Tim can’t help the curve on his lip as you blatantly dodge another of Babs’s questions with a smile. You spot him, winking, and the tips of Tim’s ears flush. 

Your cocky demeanor fades when a gaggle of batbrats crowd you; nervousness creeps into your form, ironing out your posture into something unnatural and defensive. “Is this a bad time?” You ask through a tight lipped smile. Babs glares at them but doesn’t make any effort to hide the satisfaction at your shaken demeanor. “Don’t mind them, Sweetie,” Babs says, patting your back and guiding you away from the gaggle. You shuffle awkwardly, trying to coax your spine back into a more natural curve. 

“(Y/n)!” Tim manages between gasps for air. Making a person with non functioning lungs run has to be some sort of human rights violation. His voice is  louder than he anticipated. He realizes, but the apprehension in his body flits away when you beam at him-a  wide cheeky smile that has his body vibrating with delight. He made you smile like that, Tim thinks, heart swelling almost enough to soften the impact of the next few words. “Hey, Duckie!” you chirp tilting your face in a cute lopsided smile. 

“Duckie?” Jason sniggers. 

Duke’s face passess from confusion, realization, then amusement in a matter of three seconds.“Duckie? As in ‘quack quack’?” Duke asks, pretending to still be dumbstruck. 

“Yes, Duckie, Tommy Terrific,” you say, the lopsided smile curving into a playful grin. The dumb nicknames earn you a loud, surprisingly nonthreatening, approving laugh from Jason who then says “We’ll keep those nicknames in mind” which just drags pained looks from both Tim and Duke. Dick and Damian on the other hand look absolutely delighted. 

“(Y/n), tell them about the other nicknames,” Steph says, grinning savagely. Your eyes widen and you wrinkle your nose, mouth twitching from side to side, trying to pretend away the heat rising from your cheeks. “Not on your life, Stephie.”

“Aaaaaw! Not even for lil ol’ me?” Dick pouts, throwing his arms around you. The familiarity of the action has Tim bristling. “Pleeeeeaaase,” Dick whines; a smile hidden in your hair, “not even for Alfred’s cookies?” You make a noise caught between a laugh and a groan. “Hmmmm… maybe? Throw in some candy.”

“Deal.”

Tim blinks. “You’d betray me for sugar?” 

“Cus I ain’t getting any while you’re sick,” you cackle, grinning along with Dick who looks way too pleased with the outcome of the conversation.  Tim desperately wants to melt into the floor. Looking at all his siblings who are eagerly awaiting for the litany of nicknames, Tim cuts in. “Let’s just go watch that film.”

“What are we watching?” Cass asks, leaning to look over your shoulder, clearly shoving Dick out of the way. Dick does his best to not budge. 

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“We are under a communist regime, Timbo. We’re all watching it together,” Jason says, slinging Tim over his shoulder. 

“Have a heart, Drake. We only want to spend family time together,” Damian says, somehow still looking imperious even from where Tim is dangling. A dull ache starts spreading across Tim’s like his skull is being squeezed. 

“Hope you guys like Clue,” you say, fishing it out of your cornucopia of unhealthy junk food. “I figured you detectives would like a good mystery.” Dick snorts taking the disc from you and reading over the contents efficiently. “Bet you I can get the ending even before any of you.”

“No, you won’t,” Jason barks, setting off a long winded argument about who the best detective is. 

“Didn’t you say you would eat me if I spoiled another mystery movie for you? Are you planning to eat my entire family?” Tim croaks quietly. You scrunch your nose, twitching your mouth four times to the left and four and a half times to the right.  “Technically, what I said was ‘I’ll respectfully go back to juvie for cannibalism if you spoil another movie that night’,” you hiss low, trying not to draw attention to your conversation. Unfortunately for you, his siblings have good hearing.  

“And this is different how?” Tim asks, this time not bothering to control his volume. 

“You’ll never figure out the ending,” You say smiling innocently. Tim rolls his eyes and huffs a ‘we’ll see’. It doesn’t wipe the smile off of your face. 

As it turns out, the Wayne Manor theater is less of a theater and more of a bean bag storage closet with a large screen. Jason tosses Tim unceremoniously into one of the random bean bags in front of the couch before gracefully pirouetting into the couch. You chuckle and continue your search for something to put your Bluray in, just now realizing that you should have probably just asked for their Netflix password or something. Alfred appears out of nowhere handing Jason and Cass each a bowl of buttery popcorn and scolding Jason about manhandling his brother in front of  a guest. Jason looks unrepentant. No surprises there. With a swat on  the back of Jason’s head, Alfred turns to you, gloved hands extended out to you.  “I can take that."

“Oh… Uh thanks- Thank you,” you stammer. To your left, Tim snickers and your hand slip, somehow the blanket Babs handed you finds its way to Tim’s face. “Shut up, Ducktective. He’s practically your grandpa and I kinda wanna make a good impression,” you hiss, cheeks warming. Tim coughs, a little dumbfounded. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that you were nervous about this. 

Tim checks if his brain is on straight before speaking. “Relax, you haven’t physically assaulted me or any of my family yet so you’re immediately at the top of Alfie’s list.” You open your mouth to speak then curl it into a frown, looking appalled and concerned. Apparently, his brain wasn't on as straight as Tim thought. "Am I going to have to fight your exes? At some point?" 

"No!" 

"Yes!" Steph says, handing you a red bean bag. Tim scowls at Steph as he watches the color drain from your face. She just shrugs and goes off to annoy Dick. 

“Mr. Boddy?” Damian asks incredulously, reading the box summary again. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” you laugh, setting your bean bag next to the one Jason dropped Tim in. Damian rolls his eyes. “This is a stupid movie. Do people really consume this drivel?”

You scrunch your nose but don’t put too much heart into glaring. Thankfully, color is now returning to your face. “The movie hasn’t even started yet!”

“Relax (y/n), the tiny mutant sperm is just playing elitist,” Steph says, plopping next to Jason and eyeing his bowlful of buttery popcorn. 

“As long as it isn’t as bad as the Happening-”

“Dude, you live in a city with Poison Ivy. That thing is pretty much a documentary,” Duke says hesitantly taking the spot between Steph and Cass. 

"Please, for the love of Alfie, please, talk about something else," Dick whines, plopping a bean bag next to Tim. Jason’s face twists in confusions before his eyes light up and untwists into an expression with amusement. "Is it because of the-" Dick hits him square in the face with a pillow, all the while screeching "Think of the children!"

"Where, Dickface?" Jason ask, prompting Dick to point(jazz hands)  at Damian who rolls his eyes. Jason does the same, looking younger than the toughened exterior suggested. "That's a gremlin, Dickface. Not a child." 

"He is-"

"SHUSH! The movie is starting!" 

You giggle, curling into Tim's side and placing your head in the crook of his neck where you usually like to put it. Tim's insides shiver from the contact and his hands automatically coil around you, pressing his nose into your hair. 

"Jeez, her melons are big," Babs says flatly taking another handful of Dick's popcorn from Damian. Cass snorts and Tim feels embarrassment creep into his skin. He flicks his eyes to you, only to find you smiling into his side. 

"They're almost as big as Dick's," you chuckle. 

"Nah, Jason is bigger," Cass pipes. 

You eye Jason openly which makes the large man cross his arms over his chest.  "Huh, you're right," you note with more confusion than anything. 

"Bruce has moobs too!" Jason protests, red-faced. 

"Son, why?"

The chatter falls silent when the figure at the edge of the room settles itself into the large leather recliner in one corner of the room. You squint your eyes to distinguish its features from the rest of the shadows in the room; only to be greeted by the solemn features of Bruce Wayne. Your breath catches and you feel your skin jump twenty feet in the air. Everyone else in the room seems to have about the same reaction even as he pulls a lever to raise the foot rest.  You all follow his movements with interest. 

“Is Bruce trying to relax?” Duke whispers to Cass who shrugs in response. Steph rolls her eyes, reaching over Duke to try and snatch some popcorn from Jason who just raises his bowl higher. “Shhhhh, Duke, let the B man try to play human,” she says, snatching at the popcorn til the bowl just falls on Jason’s head. 

“He’s trying I guess.” This draws a startled chuckle out of you that you try to press in Tim’s neck. The vibrations against his skin has him shivering. 

“B, are you ok?” Dick asks. This makes Bruce’s features move in a slightly concerned fashion which in Bruce speak is very concerned. “Yes, why?”

“Ooooh, no reason, old man.” He turns to Babs. “Yeah that’s not Bruce. Five bucks says it’s a robot.” Babs snickers, grabbing a ten from her purse. “Ten says it’s an alien.” You twist to look at them, taking out a twenty. “Twenty says it’s just Mr.Wayne.” Jason sneers at you, taking your money. “You clearly don’t know the old man.”

“Can we please just watch this film in peace?” Bruce groans, running a hand over his face, finally looking more like the long suffering single dad of eight kids that he should be.  Babs looks over her shoulder, slinging Bruce an absolutely disbelieving look. “Do you even know your children?”

“Yes, father, have you even watched us bond?” Damian asks, using his free hand to do air quotes for the word ‘bond’ while using the other to try and swipe some popcorn from Cass. It doesn’t work. 

“That definitely isn’t Bruce,” Dick hisses, trying to shield his own bowl of popcorn  from an irate Damian. 

“SHHHHHH! I can’t hear the movie!”

“It’s definitely the butler,” Dick declares.  Damian scowls, throwing a pillow at him which Dick catches with ease. “Grayson, the movie has barely started.”

“It’s definitely the butler. It’s gotta be. It’s always the butler.”

“That’s very offensive to Alfred, Dick,” Cass says, grinning. Alfred sniffs poshly in his own recliner. Dick recoils but Jason piles on. “Very classist of you, Dickiebird.”

Duke snorts. “Nah, I think he’s just saying it because Tim Curry was Pennywise the Clown.” 

“Why would you trust a clown?” 

“Oh my god, why are you guys comparing Alfred to a clown?”

“We are not!”

“This conversation is a trainwreck,” Tim groans into your hair. “Dunno, Tim, it sounds like a success,” you laugh, pressing closer. His eyes flick between you and his siblings. “You planned this.” You look up at him, failing to flatten a smile. “Nope.”

“I say it’s Ms. Scarlett,” Bruce says, rubbing his chin contemplatively. 

“You’re just saying that cus she reminds you of Selina,” Tim huff, grinning and you’re half tempted to pinch his cheeks. Bruce cuts him a scathing look that has you shrinking; the grin on Tim’s face just broadens which just makes the playful scowl on Bruce’s face deepen. “Need I remind you who pays for the internet?”

“Alfred?” Tim asks, innocently. 

“Careful Tim, B man might actually do it. Hell, he’ll probably do it if he finds out what you did last Thursday.”

“Do you mean the explosion on Fifth?” you ask, turning to Steph.  Steph gives you a firm nod; in the corner of your eye, you can see Bruce arching a brow. Tim gapes at you looking absolutely gutted. “What happened to snitches get stitches?” Tim protests. 

 You shrug, grinning. “Sorry, Duckie, I stand by my cookie dealer. Who do you think sneaks Duke and me cheetos in Western Civilization? I stand by my fellow barbarian.”

“You know Duke?”

“I pay him to-”

“Shhhhh!” 

“You guys are talking too!”

“At least, it’s movie related!” Damian hisses. 

You throw up your hands with an exaggerated flail. “Fine!”

“I say it’s the shifty looking lady,” Jason declares, reaching over Duke and Steph to try and snatch some popcorn from Cass. You wonder why Jason doesn’t just snatch some from Alfred since he’s closer. You try to ask Tim but he just shakes his head at you.  “Ms.Peacock?” Cass asks, shoving Jason’s face away with butter covered fingers.  Duke tries to snatch a few kernels in the confusion only to get his hand swatted. “I think he means Mrs. White,” he says, waving his hand.  “Yeah that one.”

“It’s the butler! It’s always butler!” Dick protests. 

“I will fucking riot if it’s the butler!” Steph shoots back.

“It can’t be the butler.”

“Why not, Dami? He has motive.”

Damian rolls his eyes.“Gordon, why are you siding with Grayson?-” Babs opens her mouth to answer but Damain continues before she can get another syllable out “-nevermind. He doesn’t have as much motive as the rest of them. Besides, does he really look competent enough to hold a gun left alone with a knife?”

Tim raises his chin from your head. “Demon Spawn, your standards for butlers is too high. Alfred is-”

“You say this like you have plenty of references.” 

“Oh, Tommy Terrific, Duckie here is a posh bastard,” Jason sneers ruffling Tim’s hair. From the way, some of his hairs stick up you could guess that he still had some butter in his hand. Tim makes a face of disgust; you try your best to help him with his hair. “Jay, you say that but you’re like Mr. I need the correct type of wood for my bookshelves,” Steph laughs.  “Just because I’m not a slob like the rest of you walking disasters doesn’t mean I’m posh.”

“Yes, it does. You lived here. Yanno with Alfie,” Dick says, pulling out another pack of snacks he’d managed to snag from your bag. You’re not gonna ask at this point. Tim gives you a look which roughly translates to ‘I am very sorry for my trainwreck of a family’. You snort at him before turning towards his sibling. “I mean look at Cass. She’s still feral.” If looks could kill, the look Cass give you would melt your bones. Thankfully, Damian opens his mouth. “They’re all feral.” You have a sense that you’ve also been insulted. You hear Babs to your right laugh derisively. “You say this like you’re any less feral than the rest of us.”

“I am-”

“Are any of you still watching the movie?” Bruce asks and for the second time that night, your body tries to divorce your soul. You had almost forgotten that yes, you are watching Clue with the fucking Batman. You shift in your seat suddenly feeling a twinge of nervousness. Before the discomfort could nestle in you, Jason speaks up. “No, Bruce, we’re just watching Cass vacuum the popcorn into her stomach. What do you think?”

“You guys didn’t ask,” Cass says through a mouthful of popcorn knowing full well that’s a lie. 

“How can any of you be watching it? All you’ve done is talk over the dialogue.” You almost laugh at how exasperated he sounds. Beside you, Tim just snickers and shakes his head. 

Damian just looks at his father from his bean bag next to Dick. “Father, we can talk and listen. ” Dick, like the mature adult that he is, slaps his knee laughing. “I don’t think B is capable of that.”

“PREACH” was followed by a chorus of AMENs. 

"Alfred, what have I done to turn my children against me?" Bruce asks, tiredly leaning back into his recliner. 

"Master Bruce, how would you like me to list it?" 

"Alfred not you too," Bruce groans, putting his hands in his eyes. 

"Yeah! Alfie's on our side!" Jason cheers. 

"Quite."

"Alfie is always the sensible one," Cass chuckles sensibly between bites. You hear varying noises of agreement and Bruce ages from suave debonair to extremely tired single dad. 

"I assume Alfred is actually the boss here."

"Yeah, Bruce is actually on the bottom of the food chain here," Tim says. You tilt your head in  contemplation. "Yanno that makes Batman so much less scary." 

"B-man's just a giant softie," Steph chirps, slinging her legs over Duke and Cass's laps narrowly missing the nearly empty bowl of popcorn. 

Dick turns to you winking. "Yeah, just give him the puppy eyes and he'll  get you anything you want in 2 seconds flat." 

"Dick…" 

"It's true!"

"Even a carnival?" 

"Can we please just watch the movie?" Bruce says, in an almost pleading voice. 

"I wouldn't hold my breath, old man," Jason chuckles, earning a glare from both Bruce and Damian. "It's not like you know how to shut up, Todd." 

"Sorry, I don’t speak gremlin."

"That's bull Jay!" 

"MOVIE IS STILL GOING ON! SHUT YOUR CAKE HOLES." 

“I TOLD YOU IT WAS THE BUTLER.”

“Yes, yes, it has been publiced and noted, Birdie,” you giggle into Tim’s side, shaking your head. He wraps his arm around you, pressing a kiss into your hair, winking at you. “Does it count?” Tim asks over his shoulder. A look passes between him and Cass. “I don’t think so,” she says grinning. 

“It so does! It’s one of the endings,” Dick protests vehemently. Jason’s mouth flattens then curls into a grin. “By that logic, the old man is right too.”

Dick thinks for a moment, tapping his chin. “Well, we can’t have that.”

“Why not?” Bruce protests. 

"I'm still sticking with the butler. I'm sorry this is the only logical conclusion." 

"He wasn't even an actual butler you butter brain!" Steph protests, throwing a pillow at Dick. 

"I'm sorry but can we address why you're all mounting a mutiny against me?" 

"Teenage rebellion!" Dick answers. 

"Chum, you're not even a teenager." 

"Father's right. At most, Grayson is five years old," Damian pipes from beside Dick seemingly unaffected by his brother's pout. 

"Alfred, you're going to have to check my blood pressure before patrol." 

"Quite, sir."

“They’re all so dramatic just like you said,” you whisper into Tim’s shoulder. 

“I AM NOT DRAMATIC”

“Ah, yes, because the pretty man pose is so pragmatic.” Damian deadpan.  

"That was one time, you assholes!" 

"Hey, what else did Timmy say?" 

"Well he- Oh wait!" You fish out your phone and Tim snacthes it away faster than you can blink. "No-" cough "-you don't." Cough. 

Jason snatches it from him, snickering at the photo of Tim kissing you on the cheek. You're pretty sure Tim has a matching photo with you kissing him on the cheek. "Nice lockscreen, (y/n)."

"Oh, you should see the homescreen!" 

"No. Please don't. You might need eye bleach." 

"Relax Space Cadet, it’s not that one." 

"Ohohoho, what didn't you want big daddy bats to see? Haaa, Timbo?" 

Tim turns every shade of red before settling on fire hydrant red. "None of your business!"

Bruce clears his throat, looking at a stupidly expensive watch. “It’s time.” Dick springs up, stretching and showing off.  “Is it really that time already?” Steph asks in almost a whine. Duke and Cass take the opportunity to shove her off and sadly, she lands with a loud thud and a mangled curse. You wince but laugh unsympathetically which simply earns you a face full of dust covered popcorn. You frown at her and she grins at you as Jason hauls her up by her hoodie. “C’mon Blondie. Let’s leave the love birds alone.”

“It’s not like they’re actually gonna be alone. Alfie’s here. So is Babs.”

“I’m going back to my place. You people give me a headache.” 

“You say that like you weren’t having fun,” Dick teases, walking after her. 

“I’ll be down in the cave if you need me,” Alfred says waving at both of you. “Will do, Alf,” Tim yawns, nuzzling into your hair. 

Cass pops her head back in. “Make sure Tim doesn’t do anything stupid,” She calls back. You grin, bright and wolfish. “Don’t worry! He can’t do me while he’s sick.” You hear Bruce choke in the hall and you just know that you’ll mentally kick yourself for that later. Luckily for you, Tim physically kicks you now. “What the hell?!” Cough. “Sorry, got caught in the moment.” You huff, trying to look a little sorry. Tim just glares more. “You’re not even close to sorry.”

“Ok. Yeah.”

“I have no idea why I love you sometimes.”

“My amazing personality?”

“Sure.”

“Love you too, Tim,” you chirp, kissing him. Tim’s lips feel hot after the quick peck and he pulls you closer. “I love you but I was pretty sure my family was gonna eat you alive.”

“They would have done it,” you hum, pausing before adding, “respectfully.”  

  Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell   @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

[gffa]

Something I’m sure happened during Anakin sunrise years. His first ever swimming lesson? He almost drowned. All the other kids had jumped into the pool expect him and the teacher was like “come on Anakin jump in” to which he did nothing bc he obvs couldn’t swim but then he heard someone laughing and in a brilliant string of sound association thought they were laughing at him and jumped in anyway because he can stand for dying but being laughed at? No way. This is also how he met Kit Fisto probs

HEADCANON CO-SIGNED.You will pry from my cold dead hands that Anakin jumped into the deep end of the pool because he thought he heard people laughing at him (when it was just kids having fun, but he misheard) and practically drowns because he WOULD DROWN BEFORE BEING LAUGHED AT, YOU JERKS.This is how he met Kit Fisto, who laughed good-naturedly and said, well, he’s definitely seen at least one worse first swimming lesson, but there’s a little room for improvement here.  Tiny bb!Anakin is sullen and soaking wet and his padawan braid is plastered to his forehead because, no, he didn’t tie it back, what are you talking about, and he just sort of bobs angrily in the pool, only his eyes above the water level, while Kit floats nearby.KIT TOTALLY TOOK OVER SWIMMING LESSONS FOR HIM (Jedi definitely seem to be all about communal teaching, look at how many various Jedi are taking Ahsoka out on field trips or watching over her or helping teach her!) AND ANAKIN REALLY QUICKLY BECAME A FANTASTIC SWIMMER, he’s actually really good with physical stuff, he just tries to go too fast sometimes, Kit teasingly says.I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT KIT DEFINITELY ENCOURAGE UNDERWATER SHENANIGANS, SERIOUSLY:

I SEE NO DIFFERENCE.Kit helped him with the water stuff, showed him how to waterproof his saber, showed him how to be an absolute extra fucker (RAMMING HIS SPEEDER INTO DROIDS AND JUST KEEPS GOING???  YEAH, THAT GUY DEFINITELY WOULD HAVE SOME THINGS TO TEACH ANAKIN) and it was a great match-up, until Master Fisto did the absolute unthinkable!HEWENTSKINNY DIPPING

Anakin was AGHAST.MASTER FISTO IS NAKED IN THE POOL!!!! Anakin knows, in theory, that they should be comfortable in their own skin and these are just crude matter that temporarily house their luminous spirits, but oh my GOD no no no YOU DON’T GO AROUND NAKED THAT’S ONLY FOR PEOPLE YOU LOVE AND TRUST, I will die on the hill that Anakin Skywalker is at least 60% a prude about these things.From then on, Bant Eerin–who definitely did not make fun of him for this, unlike Obi-Wan who had a straight face but was laughing with his eyes, Anakin could tell!–was the one who helped finish his swimming lessons.

Obi-Wan definitely found the whole thing funny, but took the sting out of it by telling him about the time Qui-Gon literally Force-threw him into a lake (robes and all) when he was 17 because he had walked into a venom mite’s nest on Antaries III the day before and was cranky about it, and Obi-Wan had warned his Master not to walk into it, but Qui-Gon didn’t listen and was still picking them out of his hair for the next two days.And so, when Obi-Wan DIDN’T EVEN SAY ANYTHING (but, yeah, okay, he definitely gave Qui-Gon a look when he was grumbling and pulling another of the little fuckers out from behind his ear), Qui-Gon just THREW HIM IN THE LAKE (because that was the only way to get the fish they needed for dinner, Qui-Gon intoned seriously) and it maybe wasn’t, ah, his most dignified moment ever.  So Anakin’s in good company.

[adambethyname-blog]

There’s Exactly One Way to Save the Current Star Wars Trilogy

The world is going to by hyper-focused on “Avengers: Endgame” for at least another few weeks, with a slight dip in interest when we get our Episode IX trailer which is (rumored) to be coming on April 12th at Star Wars Celebration in Chicago. If the Episode VII and VIII trailers were any indications as to what we can expect, we’ll see a few new vehicles, exasperated sweaty faces, and zero clues as to what the movie is actually about.

After a lackluster Episode VII and the unfortunate reception of “Solo,” the mood surrounding Episode IX is just kind of “meh.” I even read that Mark Hamill, himself, was saying that America might be suffering from “Star Wars fatigue.”

The truth is, we’re wedged two-thirds of the way through a trilogy that saw a director and writer change after Act I that literally took the story in an unplanned direction and BOY, did it show. The whole idea of Act I is to set the characters in motion for a conflict in Act II, but director Rian Johnson stepped in for JJ Abrams  and abandoned multiple plot points that Star Wars fans became emotionally invested in. The result was a jumbled mess called “The Last Jedi.” Just to name a few:

• We’re led to believe Captain Phasma is some kind of bad-ass, chromed-out, super-soldier Stormtrooper; however, in two movies she gets bested by one of her trainees, not once, but twice and ends up presumably dead. Watch: if she shows up again, Finn will literally kill her a third time. She’s like the Jason Voorhees of Star Wars.

• Somehow, after the Death Star was destroyed, the Emperor was killed, and Luke defeated Darth Vader (Episode VI), someone named Supreme Leader Snoke sneaks in, picks up all the pieces of the Empire, gets them cooler uniforms, builds “Starkiller Base” (Episode VII), recruits Han and Leia’s son to run things and basically picks up exactly where the old Empire left off, rebranding themselves as “The First Order.” Who the hell is this guy? Well, you’re not going to find out because he got cut in half. 

• Going into the “It Worked Last Time” bin, we get teased with a little “Who are Rey’s parents?” flashback in Episode VII only to be told they’re just a couple of drunk people who sold her for beer money. What? 

Not only that, but the “Rebellion” who were supposed to somehow be victorious after “Return of the Jedi,” never even got their feet underneath them as they tried to restore the Republic in the galaxy. Stop and think about that for a second. All that work for three movies (four, if you want to slip “Rogue One” in there as a preface)... stealing the Death Star plans, blowing up the Death Star, running and hiding on Hoth, restarting the Jedi order, sneaking on to Endor and the only living Jedi in the universe takes down TWO Sith Lords. And for what? To hand the universe back to Skinny Emperor the Sequel in a handful of years? Who’s running the Rebellion? Paul Ryan?

Since “The Last Jedi” was released we actually have found out that JJ Abrams had a full three-movie treatment set up for Episodes VII, VIII, and IX, but when he stepped away from directing VIII, he basically told Rian Johnson “do whatever you like.” I honestly don’t think that he expected Rian to take him QUITE so literally and that’s most likely the reason JJ is back for Episode IX in what is most certainly a salvage operation.

But where are we in the story? We’re down to like 12 Rebels on the Millennium Falcon. Kylo Ren is leading First Order now. We know Leia is going to get it it somehow in IX thanks to Carrie Fisher’s unfortunate passing. Billy Dee Williams returns as Lando Calrissian but given the track record of original trilogy actors, I have even money that he flies the Falcon in a suicide mission, if Rose can stay out of the way this time. Snoke is dead. Luke is dead. Han is dead. Really the only expected outcome is Rey somehow defeats Kylo and it’s “Jedi” all over again... how predictable.

Not so fast.

Any scenario where Rey “wins” or the Rebellion triumphs is just going to be scoffed at as “who didn’t see that coming” and it will be the culmination of a disjointed, poorly told story.

Here’s how you salvage this mess.... the First Order wins.

Yes. Think about it:  Kylo Ren kills Rey in combat. Finn and Rose go out like Vasquez in “Aliens” grasping a thermal detonator in an air duct somewhere. You blow up the Falcon, with Lando AND Chewy on it (sorry, Chewy). Poe.... you know, I really don’t care about Poe. He’s so disposable. His name in the credits should just be “BB-8′s Owner.”

And you let Kylo get everything he wanted only to realize that he didn’t want it in the first place and that by “winning” he actually lost. It’s basically “White Men Can’t Jump” but with lightsabers. He killed his mother, his father, and the orphaned girl of drunken traders that he crushed on (guys love a “project”) and sadly, like Alexander the Great he will weep as there are no more worlds to conquer. Not everything can be a happy ending. Episode V is widely regarded as the best single entry in the Star Wars series and why? Because, like Dante said in “Clerks,” it ends on a down note, and that’s what life is - a series of down endings. 

That’s the only way through this. It’s the only unexpected thing you can do at this point to make this trilogy truly memorable. I’ll be honest: the prequels are better that what we have at this point. YES. I said it.

THE PREQUELS ARE BETTER THAN “THE FORCE AWAKENS” + “THE LAST JEDI.” 

I’ll take Jar Jar over Rose. I’ll take pouty Anakin over crabby, menopausal Luke. 

With “Endgame” just a few short weeks away, this is me, channeling my inner-Dr. Strange and seeing all the possible scenarios for Episode IX. There are 14,000,605 paths Star Wars can take. Exactly one doesn’t suck.

[theheavymetalmama]

Katie Reviews “Venom”

A Turd in the Wind is Worth Two in the Bush

I will never apologize for my undying love and adoration for superhero, science fiction, and science fantasy movies and I don’t care how many pretentious reactionary hot taking dipshits who won’t shut the fuck up about The Last Jedi say otherwise. Like any art and genre, superhero movies can bring about all sorts of emotions from the viewers. They can make us happy, make us sad, give us catharsis, give weight to civil, political, and social metaphor, and can lift us up from the darkest pits we may find ourselves in.

Alas, the same is true in reverse. While superhero movies can make us laugh, cry, and be enlightening, they can also be ugly, depressing, stupid, intellectually offensive, boring, wrong headed, and profoundly tone deaf. Superhero movies can bring about feelings and emotions from all ends of the spectrum and everything in between, and Sony’s Marvel’s Venom is no exception and I felt a profound feeling evoked from my viewing of it; embarrassed.

Venom is a great character, a great villain, and a stupid movie. Not the enjoyable sort of stupid like Street Fighter the Movie or The Room, nor the self aware brand of stupid that is Jurassic World or Rampage. It’s, again, the embarrassing sort of stupid, because embarrassed is exactly how I felt after watching it. You know that dream you have now and again where you’re somewhere important but you’re naked? That’s this movie. Watching this movie felt as if I was caught skinny dipping with friends by my parents while my parents were on the lakeside having sex. It’s awkward, silly in all the wrong ways, and unlike Suicide Squad nowhere resembling something of the “so bad it’s good” category. It feels like the movie was written by two completely different people, one who had all the love and adoration in the world for Venom and his origins, lore, and mythos and wanted to make a no holes barred hard R horror movie while the other had nothing but contempt for both the character and comic book movies in general and went out of their way to make Venom as much of a screwball loser as he could get away with.

The tone is a mess, constantly flip flopping between wanting to be a body horror monster movie and an over the top camp fest akin to “What if Spawn was also Jim Carrey’s The Mask?” Now I personally think Venom could work from either angle, but this movie tries to do both and it’s just an awkward and disjointed mess.

Tone isn’t the only awkward thing in this movie. The acting makes you wonder if the director was blitzed out of his skull while making this movie. Hats off to Tom Hardy, for he’s a damn good actor with such an expressive face he could dent sheet metal with a glare and melt the coldest heart on Earth with his puppy dog eyes, but his interpretation of Eddie Brock is nothing short of bizarre. In the comics, Eddie Brock was a regular guy working as a journalist when life decided to wring him like a sponge, losing his job after turning in who he thought was a serial killer but just turned out to be a creepy weirdo while Spiderman caught the real guy. After that Eddie lost his job, his girlfriend, he had to move out of his apartment because he couldn’t afford it, his father disowned him, he couldn’t find a steady job because writing was the only thing he was good at, and on top of everything else he got cancer. He blamed it all on Spiderman, and one day he came across the previously discarded symbiote and the two bonded over their hatred of Spiderman and thus Venom was born.

In the movie, Eddie Brock is a washed up photojournalist who’s kind of a bumbling dipshit who bonds with the symbiote for...being in the wrong place at the wrong time, in which a very watered down version of this year’s ‘Upgrade’ begins to play out, bonding not from a common goal but more of a “You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours” type of relationship. It’s a better iteration than Topher Grace’s ‘wormy brown nosed dweeb’ take on the character back in Spiderman 3, but that’s hardly an accomplishment. His accent is over the top and silly, and some of the dialogue is so strange it would sound perfectly natural coming from the mouth of Tommy Wiseau. The rest of the characters are forgettable outside of Riot, who just sucks.

Now Venom’s design itself, lack of a white spider insignia aside, is actually pretty cool. The special effects aren’t great but plenty serviceable, and far and away the best parts of the movie are where and when Venom just unleashes on everyone and everything. And despite the cringe inducing ‘turd in the wind’ line (yes, I know it’s a line from the comics and it was stupid there too) when he’s going around doing anti hero stuff, on the inside I shout “Hell yes, that’s Venom!” Sadly, there’s a collective of maybe 13 minutes of actual Venom in this one hour and 52 minute Venom movie. The rest is half transformations and CGI black tendrils while Tom Hardy flails his body around like somebody poured a cup of fire ants down the back of his shirt.

I was actually looking forward to this movie. Unlike Amazing Spiderman 2 which was announcing pretty loudly months in advance that it was going to suck and suck hard, Venom looked like a fun ride. Now it’s no secret that this movie had about 40 minutes of footage left on the cutting room floor and was originally shooting for a hard R rating. I don’t know about the extra footage, but I can speak with confidence that more violence and gore would not have helped this movie. It would still be a stupid, silly movie.

Venom in the comics is Spiderman gone wrong, and this movie tries to be that but falls flat on its’ face. And as much as I salivate over the idea of Woody fucking Harrelson playing Carnage in the next movie, if this is the best Sony can do then I’d rather he not embarrass himself and I truly dread the day the contract Sony has with Marvel runs out and they start making solo Spiderman movies again. 

In the end, Venom ends up delivering a bite without teeth. 3/10. Watch it if you must, but I can’t recommend it.

[notbecauseofvictories]

Can you tell us more about Rose Tico: Unconventional Diplomat?

[con’t from here]

Rose fidgets with the sleeve of her robes en route to Naboo, so much that the hem frays under her fingers. Just a few stray green threads, unraveling from the neat stitching and tickling her wrist, especially when she crooks her hands. Rose hardly notices—it’s not the first time she’s worn second-hand anything; her usual jacket has so many patched holes Paige had joked it could double as a rutaanil strainer. (Rose shuts her eyes, and thinks of Paige sitting beside her on the transport; Paige  with her legs splayed, looping her arm carelessly over Rose’s shoulders; her sharp chin jutting out and her necklace catching the overhead lights. C’mon, em gái, she’d laugh. I’d like to see any of these assholes repair a calcinator, their fancy sleeves would catch fire.

This image comforts Rose, and with her eyes shut, she smiles.)

Still, when she bows before the Queen of Naboo, all Rose can think about is her fraying sleeve, the tangle of green threads at her wrist. She wonders if everyone can see it—if that’s what they’re whispering about, all the ambassadors and diplomats with their painted-pale faces. Or maybe they’re whispering about her, the hairstyle she’d hastily done and redone aboard the transport, the callouses and electrical burn marks at her fingers and palms. Rose thinks of General Organa and tries to channel that same effortless command, elegance, but her robes are fraying and her hair is falling out of the careful braid and maybe she should have insisted it be General Organa. Maybe she should have refused.

I’m a mechanic, she wants to blurt out, though the Prime Minister of Naboo is speaking now, and it would be worse to interrupt him. I’m just a mechanic, I don’t know…

“The Resistance begs your aid,” Rose says quickly, once there is a pointed silence. She’s not sure if she was meant to speak just then, because the Prime Minister’s mouth thins with disapproval and the Queen’s expression remains still and unreadable as stone. “I hope that, in time, we may come to an agreement,” she adds, desperately.

The Queen of Naboo nods as though she’s a marble sculpture, grudgingly; as though even bending her neck requires tremendous work and she isn’t sure Rose or the Resistance merit such effort. Rose bites her lip and burns with embarrassment.

A courier whisks her from the chambers soon after, and guides her to a luxurious suite full of beautiful things. “The Queen wishes you to be comfortable,” he says briskly, and then he’s gone.

Rose pictures Paige in the room, picking up the pretty baubles and scowling—or maybe just bemused, her mouth a crooked line between amusement and annoyance. What the hells is this trash? Does a queen really think people can be bought with pretty glass and soft sheets?

“They are soft sheets,” Rose murmurs. She’s lying back on them still in her robes, wondering whether she should contact General Organa and ask for an extraction—she’s the wrong person for this, for how important this is. She’s just a mechanic. She’s—

Rose, Paige says, and Rose can shut her eyes and picture her face. That fierce sincerity, the look that usually meant it was one-hundred hours and Paige was mostly-drunk. She always got like that, after she’d been drinking. Rose, don’t let them make you smaller, or meaner, or harder than you are. Don’t let them think you’re any less than them, just because—

“Because we came from nowhere and nothing,” Rose breathes. The familiar refrain. 

“After all, that’s where heroes come from,” Rose murmurs, in time with the vision of her sister. Paige grins, and shifts forward to kiss Rose on the forehead. Never forget it, she says, and Rose swallows. Opens her eyes.

She’s alone, in the room.

.

0.327-alpha galactic standard.

TICO, ROSE: No progress to report. 

.

After the first day of negotiations, Rose comes back and carefully does not break every object in her lovely room, which is full of glass and stone and sunlight glittering off the nearby water. She does sit on the edge of the bed with her hands carefully folded in her lap, and thinks very hard about breaking all the lovely, delicate things, and the satisfying crunch some would make under her work boots. (She packed them, her boots. Just in case.)

She does drop a plate that evening at dinner. Accidentally.

The Queen of Naboo does not even in look in her direction.

.

17.327-regal galactic standard.

TICO, ROSE: No progress to report.

.

In truth, Rose had protested when General Organa had suggested she assume the role of diplomat. “I—I’m sorry?” she’d said, when the General suggested it. “I’m not….I don’t think I understand.”

It’d taken four different people, only two of which were Finn, to explain the scope of the mission, and get her to accept. “Every report of your conduct has suggested that you are charming, capable, and cool under pressure,” General Organa had said , though Rose had quietly and hysterically thought she was not cool under this specific pressure and also what in all hells. “These are invaluable qualities in a diplomat.”

“I’m a mechanic,” Rose answered weakly, but no one seemed to hear. She’d had a few weeks of preparation, and then they’d put her on the first transport to Naboo.

And that was that.

.

I miss you, Rose transmits over however long a terrible distance between her and Finn. Their exact locations been withheld from the other, citing security concerns. The Resistance is small and each sentient still swearing loyalty to it is precious, they cannot afford to bargain such things on lax security standards.

Still.

I wish I were there, she writes. I wish you were here. I wish I had someone—

Sometimes, she gets message delivery error notices, and she stares at them so long her eyes blur.

Rose goes to bed early those nights.

.

The Queen of Naboo is busy with domestic administrative duties, so Rose goes down to the stables as a way of distracting her from the monotony of her rooms. (She’s found six puzzleboxes and three hidden passageways and she’s bored, she can’t be surrounded by pretty and useless things anymore or she’ll start smashing them. Even writing back to Finn—whose last transmit was almost entirely black-censored, due to classified information—can’t stave off the boredom.)

Naboo doesn’t have stables of fathiers, the way Canto Bight did; they’re a waterlogged planet, and so their pets and beasts are aquatic. Still, Rose can’t help grinning as she dips her hand in the broad pool and the creatures—she’s not sure what they’re called, but they’re smooth and funny to touch, ticklish—lap at her fingers. The skinny ones twine around her wrists and mouth at her skin, and she giggles.

She names the spotted, aggressive creature twice her size ‘Rey’ because it seems to fit, the serious, hard-headed Jedi. There’s a smaller, thin animal that darts close and then away, and she calls that one ‘Finn’ because its scales are so bright and its mouth seems to smile. The prettiest one is ‘Poe’ obviously, since even Paige had been in love with Poe, because everyone is in love with Dameron, Rose, even if we don’t prefer male humans overall.

Rose is trying to coax out the dark-scaled, uncertain creature hiding in the rocks when a strange voice startles her:

“They like you.”

Rose forces herself to stay still, since she has Organa—a dark-grey, huge creature—wound around her hand. The creature is humming, just below the threshold of human hearing, and Rose isn’t interesting in disturbing her. “I like them,” she says simply.

The woman comes to sit beside her on the edge of the tank, and Rose vaguely recognizes her from all the many conferences. A handmaiden, or some sort of representative; maybe a duchess. Even General Organa’s knowledge of Naboo internal politics was shaky. They knew that the Queen had handmaidens, and often these were nobility unto themselves, but that was all.

“You’re the ambassador of the Resistance,” the strange woman says, and Rose half-shrugs. 

“I suppose.”

“You don’t seem certain about that. Don’t you know who you represent?”

Rose smiles. She shakes off the Organa-creature, and straightens up, meeting the handmaiden-or-duchess in the eye. “A week ago, I was a mechanic. Diplomacy is…not exactly where I saw myself going.”

“Hm,” the woman says, noncommittally. Rose watches as she rolls up her sleeve, and dangles her hand in the water. The Poe-creature immediately swims up to the surface, and buts against the strange woman’s hand, trilling in a way that’s almost-audible, just enough to give Rose a low grade headache.

(Sometimes when she comes, the creatures are singing, just below the frequency of human hearing; Rose likes to lie down then, and grit her teeth and think of Paige, and Finn, and telling the both of them about the songs of these nameless creatures, which she could feel through her skin.)

“What are they called?” Rose asks, watching. “I’ve been trying to figure it out for days, but searching the holonet…”

“They’re called ildeni,” the girl says, and her absent smile is nice. Rose thinks in another sort of galaxy, they might be friends, and the thought is reassuring. “Or Naboo rays, as they’re known on other worlds. Usually, they’re very picky about who they like, I’m impressed they’re so attached to you.”

Rose blushes. “You’re the only one, then,” she mutters, staring down into the deep pool to avoid looking at the woman, her round face. She has dark, fine eyes and Rose likes them; just as Rose likes her hand as it stroksd through the water, with it’s long dark fingers.

“You don’t think you made an impression on the queen?” the handmaiden asks.

“I have no way of knowing,” Rose says, as gently as she can. (She’s gotten good at this, at saying ugly things in a beautiful way. Not to alienate—) “But right now, we’re just…circling one another. I’ve seen enough negotiations between the First Order and the mining federation to know the difference.”

The woman glances at Rose. “You worked for the mining federation?”

“I served drinks to the mining federation,” Rose says sharply. She can’t quite keep the scorn out of her voice. “There’s a difference.”

Rose can feel her—the stranger, with her lovely skin, and her dark fingers, and her smile—looking. Still, Rose turns, and meets her gaze when the stranger says, “My name is Aldoré. I am a handmaiden to the Queen.”

“Rose Tico, ambassador to the Resistance,” Rose says. They shake hands, and both of their palms and fingers are wet with saltwater. “Pleasure to meet you.”

They go walking in the palace gardens, after. Rose finds herself explaining about Finn, and Poe, and Rey, and Paige, and the Resistance, and light—even Light, which was better and higher and different, somehow. About growing up hungry and angry and how nothing would feed them except revolt, and nothing would clothe them except resistance, and even then, Rose missed her sister. Sometimes sacrifice was just—it was just horror, and grief. Even if you believed in what you were fighting for. 

Aldoré listens, and she takes Rose’s arm, and they clutch one another in the gathering dusk. Aldoré says, “I grieve for your loss,” and Rose says, “Thank you,” and they are there, with the smell of the sea all around them and on their hands, and Rose thinks of Paige standing beside her, thinks of Paige saying, don’t be afraid, here I am, here I will always be.

Aldoré is beautiful, in the dusk; dark as the wrong side of the moon and lovely. Rose asks her if she’ll be at the queen’s dinner that night, and Aldoré shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry,” she says. “I have business to attend to.”

Dinner that night is stilted, quiet. Rose does not know what to say, and settles for saying nothing.  

.

The next day, Rose receives a missive from the Queen of Naboo. Come, it says. We have much to discuss.

Rose barely sleeps that night.

.

43.39-aris galactic standard.

TICO, ROSE: Tentative progress. Request authority to negotiate terms of support.

ORGANA, LEIA: Granted. 

.

Rose wears the same green robes, and when she bows before the throne, she knows that the Queen of Naboo sees the fraying threads at her sleeve. Mostly because the Queen of Naboo comes down from her throne and takes Rose’s hands, holds them up to her breast.

“I think,” Aldoré—or the Queen of Naboo, Rose still isn’t sure which except that she’s smiling the way the Queen of Naboo never did, her scarlet-painted mouth curling up at the corners—says, “that we have been remiss. We have been cruelly negligent.”

“Oh?” Rose asks faintly. Beneath the pale death’s mask of makeup, she can trace the outline of brown and laughing Aldoré, and she’s not sure how to think about that except hope fiercely that it somehow works out.

“Yes,” the Queen says. “After all, it was a Queen of Naboo who lit the ember of Rebellion. It seems only just that Naboo keep it burning. Kneel, Ambassador Tico.”

Rose wobbles to her knees in a borrowed, fraying green robe. Beside her, she can feel Paige, bright and whispering, look at that, little sister, look at this; nothing and nowhere and no one and here you are. what did we say about heroes?

Rose Tico goes to her knees a mechanic, pressed into service as an ambassador because there was no one else and she was kind, maybe kinder than the rest.

Rose Tico rises up again to her feet wearing shimmering green, the color of hope, and leading an army.

[gondalsqueen]

Things to Come Ch. 3: Aptitude

Chapter 3: Aptitude (linked to A03 here)

“Cute kid. When she dies, pack that thing up.”

“What if she doesn’t die?”

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: F/M Fandom:Star Wars: Rebels Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla, Cham Syndulla/OC, Cham Syndulla & Hera Syndulla Characters: Hera SyndullaCham Syndulla, C1-10P | Chopper, Gobi Glie, Kanan Jarrus, Original Characters Additional Tags: Backstory, Childhood, fathers and daughters, Mothers and Daughters …

“Once again, General Syndulla, I must advise that the Imperial detachment remain. The Separatists may be broken, but not all of their forces have surrendered. And there are other threats.”

“And once again, Commander Ackley, I thank you for the offer of continued protection. But seeing as the Separatist troops have left our planet and we are not children under your guardianship, I must insist that you leave. Immediately.”

The creases at the corners of the Commander’s eyes deepened, the only sign of his irritation. Standing guard by the meeting room door, Theri tried to look like he wasn’t listening. He didn’t know why the Commander wanted to stay, anyway. As far as he was concerned, this dried out prune of a planet had been trying to kill them since they got here.

“You forged an alliance with us—” Ackley argued.

“I forged an alliance with Mace Windu and your Jedi commanders,” Syndulla cut him off, harsh. “I do not see them here.”

Theri’s fist tightened at his side, but the Commander stayed cool as Chandrilan ice. “Nevertheless, they acted as representatives of the Republic, now the Empire, and we swore to—”

“We hear rumors, even here, of clone allegiance.”

Of all the asshole insinuations—as if the clones had been the ones to turn against the Jedi. But making more enemies wasn’t part of their assignment, so Theri held perfectly still and Commander Ackley pretended it wasn’t an insult.

Syndulla, for his part, didn’t blink. He’d been their strongest ally on Ryloth, and now that the war was over, he was the loudest voice for kicking the troops off-world. That’s gratitude for you.

The Commander wasn’t going to start a fist-fight, but he wasn’t any too happy, either. “Neither of us has the authority to negotiate what’s to be done with this planet,” he said, tight-lipped. “When the new Viceroy arrives from Coruscant, he’ll have plans. And your council will have to make its decision, of course--you don’t speak for all of Ryloth, General Syndulla.”

“I speak for the Tann province. And for my house, which you are using as your base. And I want you out.”

“Fine.” Yeah, Commander Ackley was definitely pissed off now. “We’re almost packed, anyway. We’ll withdraw today. CT-7724—”

Theri snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.”

“—do a final equipment sweep. If the General won’t listen to reason, maybe the southern provinces will have a different view.”

If Syndulla took that as a threat, he didn’t show it. His face remained about as emotional as a boulder.

Theri threw a sharp salute and left, hoping his relief didn’t show. He’d rather scour the residence for more of their junk than listen to those increasingly hostile negotiations, anyway. He picked up another ten soldiers in the makeshift dining hall, apportioned the floors of the house among them, and put them to work. One more thorough sweep and they were out of here. Ryloth hadn’t been a bad assignment, but as far as he was concerned, it was time to leave, and he wouldn’t be sad if Syndulla got his way. At first, its inhabitants had been grateful, at least—and some of the prettier ones had been particularly, interestingly grateful. Ever since the war ended, though, all they got in town were sidelong looks, as if the tailheads were scared of them, or somehow resented them.

The adults, anyway. The kids were still pretty great, which is why he wasn’t too surprised to walk into one of the second-floor meeting rooms and find Krayt and Bo cheering on some little girl as she played a dual-stick hologame.

“Hey, Theri, come take a look at this!” Bo motioned him over.

“What’s so great about holo-pong, or whatever they play—” Wait a minute, he recognized those graphics. “Hey! Is that one of our flight simulators?”

“Shh! You’re going to throw off her game. Just look at this kid!”

Theri looked. He saw a big-headed, green little girl who might have been tall, or might just have been skinny—it was hard to tell. Or maybe that was the dress, which by their standards had probably fit her eight centimeters ago. Just a little tailhead urchin in hand-me-downs, frowning her way through a sequence on a military-grade flight simulator as if it were a game.

“So?”

“Are you kidding? Look at her SCORE.”

Theri looked closer and swore.  

“Watch it,” the little girl said in Basic, the first sign that she was aware of their presence at all. “I’m not supposed to hear those words.”

“You two have been training her at this thing, like some mascot?”

Krayt held up his hands, innocent. “No! That’s the schutta of it. We just saw her eyeing it while we were getting ready to pack it up and thought she might like a try. Kid crashed into a mountain, but she got off the ground. Second time, she took out a TIE. This—” he gestured at the screen— “This is only round three.”

Son of a bantha. The kid dodged around the backside of a planetary ring and straightened up her ship, glowering at the screen. Sith if she wasn’t scanning for enemies! And while she wasn’t exactly combat ready or anything, a score like that fresh out of the gate would give their airborne trainees a run for their money.

They had the simulator set on easy mode. When the single TIE fighter rounded the planet’s edge, the kid brought it into her crosshairs and blew it to smithereens. Her smile, a grim little thing, was the first pleased expression he’d seen on her face.

“Hey—” Bo put his hands on hers to straighten them. “You can’t jerk the controls when you fire like that. See? You almost dipped into those rocks.”

“Mm hmm.”

“No, no, watch it! You want to stay away from the rings.”

“Well…” The girl considered. “I’m going to use them to blow up bad guys.” She zagged closer to the belt and the next slow-moving TIE cut an awkward angle towards her and exploded on the rocks. Her score climbed.

Okay, that was pretty badass. But Theri had a job to finish. “Cute kid. When she dies, pack that thing up.”

“What if she doesn’t die?”

“We have to be out by 1600. That means everything.”

“Or...we could just leave it here. This system’s been decommed anyway.”

“That’s Republic equipment.”

“Don’t you mean IMPERIAL equipment, soldier?” Now Bo was ribbing him, knowing he wouldn’t think it was funny.

“I mean it’s ours.”

“You planning on doing some intense flight training once we get to the next camp? We’ve got five of these things. And you know nobody’s really keeping track of the old equipment now that the war’s over, anyway.”

Theri frowned, and Krayt started in on him, too. “Give it to her. What’ll it hurt? Poor little thing, she just lost her mom.”

The poor little thing frowned intensely at the screen and narrowly missed a boulder. Another TIE fighter went up in flames.

“What’s some tailhead servant’s brat going to do with flight training? You planning on giving her a scholarship?”

“Careful,” Bo told him. “That’s Syndulla’s kid.”

Theri looked at her again and thought he could see a resemblance in the grim mouth and set brow. What was she doing bumping around this place with nobody but military personnel? Not that it was his business. “Even better. He’s not exactly our friend these days.”

“Don’t be a dick. She’s a tough little thing. Planted the detonators that gave you the advantage at Kella last month. Might have saved your life.”

Krayt did a double-take. “That true? Syndulla sent his own kid in with explosives?”

“Unarmed, I think, and two days before anything went down.”

“Still, balls of durasteel.”

“And all the fatherly instincts of a rancor.”

“He didn’t send me,” the kid said.

“What? Hey, keep your eyes on the display!” She narrowly avoided dipping into a spray of pebbles.

“He didn’t send me,” she repeated. “I went.”

Theri watched her play for a minute. Cham Syndulla may have raised a decent-sized army, but this whole planet was still easy prey for any greedy paramilitary group that wanted a foothold. Not poor, exactly—they could have been rich if all their resources weren’t stripped by Coruscant-owned corporations. Nobody here was going to get a whiff of it, though. Best thing the kid could do would be to get away.

Okay. She was good. Might as well give her a chance. “What the hell, keep the thing.”

Bo howled in triumph and rubbed the kid’s head affectionately. She shook him off in annoyance. “You’re gonna make me crash!”

“Don’t tell the Commander,” Theri ordered belatedly.

“What, that Ghost Company’s gone airborne again? Not a peep."