#poor tech just wanted to get some caf

[bibannana]

Crosshair *watching Wrecker finish a zombie holovideo*: Careful Wrecker or the zombies will get you.

Wrecker *confident*: I'm not scared of zombies. They aren't even real.

*Door sqeals behind him as Tech walks through with a tired groan*

Wrecker *shoving (more like flinging) Crosshair into Tech*: I'm too young to die! Take Cross instead!

Hunter *who has watched this all unfold*: How are we one of the best squads in the GAR?

[dangraccoon]

Oyuba'din - Chapter 22: Sleepless

Summary: Tech fights against a natural urge, leading the rest of the squad to worry.

Warnings: trauma, trauma response, self inflicted sleep deprivation, mention of past torture, mention of nightmares

Author's Note: oh Tech, my poor little blorbo. and btw Tech's sleepy talk is based on how I apparently sound once my meds kick in so fun fact, I guess? lol enjoy!

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“What are you doing?” Jaine’s voice cut through the silence of the darkened cockpit.

Tech sighed from underneath the main control panel. “Repairs,” he replied, mumbling out a quiet “obviously.”

“Well, I knew that,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. “I meant to ask why you’re doing repairs instead of sleeping?”

His motions paused for a moment. “You have a tendency to forget that, as clones, we were engineered to require less sleep than an average human such as yourself.”

“Tech, you’ve been awake for nearly two days,” she whispered, concern creeping into her voice.

“I am fine.”

“Don’t make me sic Wrecker on you,” Jaine warned with a chuckle.

“You will not,” he answered confidently. “It’s not as though you could wake him anyway.”

He heard her sigh. He tried not to let it penetrate the shields he constantly put up whenever she was near. 

“Well, I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to,” she said. “But as your medic, I will recommend that you get some sleep. I brought you some of your tea. Hunter’s due to start on watch soon, maybe go to bed when he gets up?”

“I have heard your suggestion, and I will put it to use as I see fit. Go back to bed.”

Jaine almost shivered with the edge of ice in his tone. She tried to smile at him as she wished him a good night and set the mug on the control panel, but he didn’t pull himself from his work to see her anyway. With another soft sigh, she headed back to the medbay.

She slid the door open, slumping down into a chair.

“He’s still not sleeping?”

She jumped a little. 

“Kriff, Crosshair!”

He chuckled. “Such language,” he scolded.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” she asked, her eyes rolling. 

“You left,” he explained, although it came out something more akin to a whine. 

Jaine chuckled. “What, you can’t sleep without me?”

“I can; I just don’t want to.”

Jaine crawled back into the bunk and pressed up against Crosshair, who let out a content sigh. 

“Why does he hate me?”

Crosshair’s heart sank a little at the little sniffle Jaine tried to hide. “I don’t think he hates you.”

“I know I hurt everyone, but I’m doing my best to fix it and I think everyone else has forgiven me,” she whimpered, the tears flowing steadily now. “What can I do? How can I earn his trust back?”

“It’ll just take some time, cyare,” Crosshair hummed, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her back. “He can be a little…stubborn.”

She scoffed through her tears. “You’re one to talk.”

“He is my twin,” he chuckled, gently brushing back a stray red lock from her face. “Just be patient; he’ll come around.”

-

“You can’t be serious,” Echo groaned. 

“I am,” Hunter shrugged as he poured Echo another cup of caf.

“Not at all?”

“Not a wink!”

“He didn’t like to sleep much when we were kids,” Wrecker noted.

“Yeah, not much,” Hunter countered. “But this is not at all.”

The three shared matching expressions of concern and frustration.

“Caf?” Crosshair asked, strolling into the small galley.

“Mornin’ to you too, Cross,” Wrecker chuckled, nudging Echo’s ribs a little harder than he probably should have.

Hunter tipped his head to gesture to the fresh pot of caf. Crosshair nodded a silent thank you as he got two mugs down.

Echo made a nearly inaudible click-click with his tongue, grabbing Hunter’s attention, who looked over at him, confused.

He looked at Crosshair, then at the door of the medbay, raising his eyebrows in question.

Hunter scowled skeptically, giving a small shake of his head.

“What?” Wrecker half-whispered.

Both men gave him a look they hoped said “please shut up”, but Wrecker just looked more uncertain.

“What?” Wrecker asked again, defensively.

“You’re all idiots,” Crosshair chuckled, taking both mugs with him as he returned to the medbay.

Echo gestured towards the sniper as he walked away, giving Hunter a look of disbelief.

-

Hunter was really doing his best not to get irritable. “I’m just saying that-”

“You’re ‘just’ trying to order me to bed,” Tech deadpanned from his awkward spot deep in the paneling of the ship. “I have clearly told you that I am fine.”

Hunter sighed. “Tech, we-” 

He was cut off as Tech began to hammer at something, a series of loud clangs silencing him as his hands flew up to cover his ears. 

“Cheap move, osi’kovid!” Hunter called as he left the area. 

When Tech was sure Hunter had retreated, he poked his head out of the panel. Seeing that his brother had left, he let out a sigh of relief. 

“You are a shithead,” Crosshair drawled, vaguely startling his twin. 

“What do you want, Crosshair?”

“I want you to get your head out of your ass,” Crosshair growled. “I want you to get some damn rest. I want you to stop avoiding Jaine.”

Tech scoffed. “I am not-”

“Yes, you are! You haven’t slept in four days! You’re hardly eating and I’m pretty sure you don’t have any blood left in your system, just terrible instant caf.”

“I sleep and eat as necessary. If I needed to do either, I would. What is your issue?” Tech snapped.

“My issue?” Crosshair seethed. “Look, if you want to drive yourself to your own death be my guest, but I won’t apologize for trying to make sure my brother survives his own brain. We care about you, Tech, but if you refuse to see that, fine.”

Crosshair threw his hands up in defeat as he skulked out of the hall, leaving Tech to sink down into one of the chairs. 

-

“Tech?” Echo called, searching the ship’s cargo bay. “Hey, the others are going out for supplies. Just you and me for a bit; wanna find something to eat?”

Echo listened, but heard no response. Sighing, he made his way to the cockpit. Not finding Tech there, he walked over to a control panel that Tech had yet to put back in place. 

Echo surveyed the wires and hoses, choosing one that looked important, and giving it a good yank. Immediately, an alarm started to go off and Echo heard the telltale clang of a tool hitting the floor, followed by a string of curses in varying languages. 

He took a seat in the copilot’s chair, and waited. He heard rushed footsteps and only bothered to look up once Tech rushed into the cockpit. 

“What in the hell is wrong with you?” he hissed, glaring at Echo as he reattached the wires Echo had pulled. 

“Funny, that’s what I was going to ask you,” Echo shrugged. 

“I cannot comprehend how I can possibly make the lot of you understand that I am-”

“Yeah, you’re ‘fine’, I got it,” Echo waved him off. “Anyway, I need your help.”

“With what could you possibly need my help?” Tech rolled his eyes. 

“Just answer a question for me,” Echo said. 

“Alright,” Tech replied cautiously.

“Tion'tuur kelir gar nartimir at sushir at gar vode?” [When will you start listening to your brothers?]

Echo’s expression was neutral, but his eyes burned into Tech’s, who blinked at him a few times. 

“See, the last time I asked you something in Mando’a, you answered immediately, no hesitation,” Echo mused. “Interesting, right? Maker, do you even know what I said?”

Tech scowled. Was he really missing things? How many tasks had he completed in the past few hours? How many would have to be checked for error?

“Look, Tech,” Echo said, leaning towards him. “I’ll give you two options.”

“And what exactly are these ‘options’?”

“You’re going to go to sleep; we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“You’re going to force me to go to bed?” Tech asked, his eyes scanning his brother for any hint of a bluff, and finding none.

Echo shrugged. “Only if you make me.”

Tech didn’t find many people intimidating. He knew he was smarter than most others; he was engineered to be a genius. But Echo? He was the exception. 

Before Tech had actually met him, he already had a high level of respect for Echo. He was an ARC Trooper and, when he did meet him, he had endured some of the most vile tortures Tech had heard of, yet he was still kind, still funny, still hopeful. 

Even though he and Tech had gotten closer - and had a tendency to mess with one another - Tech still admired Echo, and yes, he was a little intimidated still. 

Looking at him now, Echo’s pale eyes showed nothing but fierce determination with an underlying layer of concern. 

“‘The hard way’, as you put it, would be a sedative, I presume?” Tech said after a few moments. 

“Yep.”

“And ‘the easy way’?” 

“Jaine’s tea. She made some before they left.”

Tech seemed to consider this, staring at the floor with his brow furrowed. 

“She’s really worried, you know?” Echo continued. “I mean, obviously all of us are worried, but she’s kind of a mess right now. Crosshair basically had to drag her off the ship to get her mind off …well, you know.”

Tech’s eyes shot up to Echo’s. “‘Get her mind off’ what?”

Echo scoffed. “You, dumbass. She’s been doing nothing but thinking about how she could help you and pestering the rest of us to talk to you. And you have been avoiding and ignoring her.”

A wave of guilt washed over him. Had he really been so ignorant?

“She blames herself,” Echo said after a few more moments of Tech’s stunned silence. “I can’t see how any of this could be her fault directly, but she thinks it is.”

“She blames- but that is ridiculous,” Tech sputtered, ignoring the way his cheeks heated. “Of course she is not at fault; she has nothing to do with it.”

“‘Nothing’, huh? Interesting,” Echo said, getting up and walking towards the medbay. Tech followed him.

“What is?”

“Hm? Oh, just that you think your nightmares have nothing to do with her,” Echo shrugged as he poured a mug of the tea. “And you’re not sleeping because you’re avoiding the nightmares.”

“My night- how did you-”

“I’m not an idiot, Tech. I’d already figured it out before Crosshair told me. And Hunter. And Wrecker.”

Tech sighed as he took the tea from Echo’s outstretched hands. He must be tired. “I still don’t see how the nightmares about my training could have anything to do with Jaine.”

“Man, you are out of it. From what the others told me, you basically had any strong emotion trained out of you, right?”

Tech blinked at him, slowly starting to see the pieces falling into place. He idly wondered if this was how normal people thought.

“You saw your brother - hell, your twin - make a move on a woman you’re deeply interested in, and saw her reciprocate; that’s bound to stir up some strong emotions.”

“I am not-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re ‘not interested’ in her,” Echo scoffed. “You keep pretending to believe that.”

They fell into silence as Tech began to sip the tea. Echo was watching him, but he was becoming fidgety. 

“We should probably head to your bunk,” Echo suggested, watching as Tech’s eyelids became harder to keep open. 

“Nonsense,” Tech yawned, already starting to recline on the exam table. 

“That can’t be comfortable,” Echo insisted, grabbing the mug that was slowly drooping. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

“Hm? Nn…can’t,” the sleep dripping into Tech’s voice was starting to make Echo chuckle. “Too many…things.”

“Things?” Echo chuckled, already moving to grab an extra blanket from the cabinet. 

“Mmmmhm…’speriments.”

“Alright, buddy. Get some rest.”

When Tech’s breath finally leveled out and he stopped the incoherent mumbling, Echo breathed a sigh of relief. 

He took out his comm, typing out a quick message to Jaine. 

“Mission: Success.”

Thanks for reading! - River

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[bb-8]

Tech Savvy

Pairing: Tech x female reader Summary:  You’re an ex-imperial who has a crush on Tech. He’s awkward about it. Until he’s not. Rating: Explicit (18+, minors DNI) Warnings/tags: crack treated seriously, smut, unprotected PIV, awkward flirting, oral sex, first kisses, accidental exhibitionism, lots of bad jokes, slight angst Word count: 5.4K Notes: It’s smutty crack treated seriously, guys. Read on AO3.

The planet you land on isn’t anything special. It’s a humid swamp world in the Outer Rim that offers enough seclusion for even the Empire’s Most Wanted to pass by unnoticed.

You, being the kind and selfless individual you are, decide to help with repairs while Clone Force 99 are on a supply run. It’s the first time the ship has made planet fall in weeks and everyone is a bit stir-crazy, jumping at the chance to stretch their legs. Prolonged time spent in hyperspace has that effect.

Before he left, you told Hunter that your status as an ex-Imperial put an unnecessary target on their back. You’re still wearing your Imperial uniform, after all, and you know for a fact that the Empire is not exactly merciful to deserters. Especially deserters that committed high treason. Like aiding Clone Force 99’s escape from an Imperial prison.

You definitely didn’t just jump at the chance to stay behind because Tech opted to. That would be ridiculous.

You feel your face heat at the thought.

(What? His goggles are cute.)

The truth is, there’s been something – a tension, as it were – between the two of you since you arrived on board. You know it, he knows it. You’ve been orbiting around each other for some weeks now, and this is the first time you’ve been alone –

“Can you spare a minute?” Tech calls out, pulling you away from your thoughts. You swivel in your chair and shift your attention to him, a bit surprised.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t realise I was on board,” you reply as you make your way to the cockpit where Tech is currently fiddling with some wires.

“You’re...very hard to miss,” Tech replies and your heart skips a beat. “The ship is far too small to miss another sentient being’s presence.”

“Right,” you mutter while taking a seat, trying not to sound too deflated. So maybe he didn’t feel that tension. “What do you need help with?”

“I am taking this opportunity to rewrite the ship’s central comm unit to be more covert when passing through areas with increased Imperial traffic. If I can update the ship’s communication infrastructure to resemble that of a first generation Imperial craft, then we will considerably reduce our chances of being identified. Which is why I am particularly glad you stayed behind today. Considering your, er, history.” He fiddles with a mess of wires in front of him, not once looking up.

“And here I was thinking you wanted me around because you enjoyed my company,” you playfully jab.

“There’s that, too,” Tech replies. “Though it would be advantageous if you could list all of the Imperial access codes you can remember. The computer and I can do some pattern recognition to better–,” he cut himself off and anxiously rubbed the back of his neck. “Apologies, you don’t need a long-winded explanation. If you’re happy to share, you can do so whenever you’re ready.”

You consider protesting and telling him that you find his rambling cute, but you decide not to dwell on it for his sake. You list the codes you remember from the Academy. You keep talking, relaying any tangential intel relating to access codes. If it’s irrelevant, Tech doesn’t stop you.

He is silent for a few moments analysing the data you’ve given him. You watch him closely, admiring the way his brow furrows and his lips purse while he’s concentrating.

“You trust me then?” you venture to say. You play with your hands in your lap. “Even though I was with the Empire?”

“You’re helping us now,” Tech replies, as if it’s obvious. He is still inputting data into the datapad he is holding when he continues, “You trust us, it would seem. And we were soldiers programmed upon our creation to destroy the Republic.”

You fumble over your next words.

“That’s – it’s entirely different.”

“And from my perspective, all that matters is where you are now,” he states with finality.

“Well,” you say shyly, “I like where I am.”

Tech smirks despite himself, briefly glancing up at you from his datapad.

You hold his gaze for a moment, before settling into a comfortable silence. You sit in next to him for several minutes, revelling in his closeness like a brezak basking under the Zygerrian sun. It’s only when you notice yourself blushing like a teenager that you decide to make yourself useful and actually help with repairs like you promised.

++++++++++++++++++++

“Would you mind holding this wire out of the way for me while I solder the capacitors for the localised memory bank?” Tech calls, breaking your concentration. The illumination device you were repairing could wait.

You have no idea what Tech means, if his string of words means anything, and you survey his makeshift workbench for a hint. Several panels are detached, limply dangling from a few brightly coloured wires. Tech is focusing his attention on a large panel that is plugged into a cylindrical storage device.

“Maker, that’s a big data stick,” you can’t help but mutter.

Tech makes an incoherent choking sound.

You do as requested and lean over his shoulder to take hold of the wire he specified between your thumb and forefinger. The fabric of your sleeves brushes against his shoulder armour and it feels as though there is a static shift in the air, like the air around you is alive and humming.

And Tech gulps with the contact. He types a few sets of numbers into his datapad with excess force, seriously testing the build quality of the device. His posture is especially rigid as focuses on testing the wires currently in his lap.

Your pulse is racing. It’s as if each second that passes without a confession threatens to rip apart the very fabric of reality.

“Tech?” He has to feel this too, right? “Why...why did you stay behind today?” you ask, careful to keep your voice even. You need him to say it, admit that he feels it, too. You’re desperate for it.

“You can let go now,” he replied, pointedly ignoring your question.

You let go of the wire, but make no move to step away from him. You’re acutely aware of yourself right now and suddenly self-conscious: about the deep shade of crimson enveloping your face, the way you’re breathing, the clamminess you can feel on your palms. You hope you smell alright and silently pray that any traces of caf on your breath are long gone.

Several seconds pass before Tech looks up, over his shoulder at you. His face briefly flickers with concern.

“Your flushed features and increased heart rate indicates that you are nervous,” he remarks.

Maker, is it that obvious, you cringe.

Your mouth is dry and you contemplate making an excuse, but your brain does not want to cooperate.

“Sometimes I –,” you begin. Void, here I go. “Sometimes I get nervous around you,” you admit, attempting to make your confession sound as casual as possible. You bite your bottom lip in a way that you hope will be interpreted as sensual, or, at the very least, cute.

And Tech? Tech is flustered. Like visibly shaken, blushing furiously, two-steps-away-from-hyperventilating, kind of flustered.

“Please do not be nervous,” he responds tightly. Each word is taking considerable effort to be spoken. “I already told you: we trust you. I am not a threat to you.”

The poor guy. There’s no way he can really be misinterpreting that –.

“No, no, it’s a good kind of nervous,” you attempt to clarify.

“Nervousness is not conducive to high quality work,” Tech chokes out.

“No, I mean like giddy. I feel giddy around you.”

Come on, Tech.

“Would you like a chair–.”

“Stars, Tech, I like you!”

Tech...errors. He attempts to start several sentences with no success before mumbling an excuse that he has to go, “fix the reverse polarity capacitive inductor,” which, to your knowledge, is definitely not a real thing.

So maybe that could have gone better. All things considered, he did seem affected by your admission. On the other hand, he also left the room entirely.

Your face burns with embarrassment and, hey, maybe this backwater planet could make a decent home. Maybe the swamp water would be safe for consumption and you could spend the rest of your days foraging for swamp... berries. Sure, it might be a little uncomfortable, but no less uncomfortable than staying here for one more second.

And this is why you don’t admit your feelings to anyone. Ever.

Ugh. You were so confident, too. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to transport to another star system.

The door to the ‘fresher shuts, followed by a slight scuffle of feet, and a thunk that sounds decidedly like a head hitting the door.

You briefly consider leaving the ship to attempt to meet up with the rest of the Bad Batch. It’s been far too long since you’ve breathed fresh, clean, air and you feel a second wave of self-pity wash over you as you contemplate the thought of breathing in the smell of Wrecker’s feet for several more weeks in the Marauder’s circulated air. They hadn’t been gone longer than a standard hour and there was a clear path to get into town. You could still salvage the day, you could still stretch your legs–

‘Oh you want to know why I suddenly decided to join you, Hunter, after promising I’d help fix the ship? Funny story, I was trying to seduce your brother and he rejected me!’

You physically cringe at that. On second thought, maybe just pretending this didn’t happen would be the easier option. Lesser of two evils and all that.

Well, you’ve endured worse situations than this. Swamp berries, if they exist, probably won’t offer enough sustenance anyway, you conclude. You turn your attention to fixing several access panels that require little to no attention.

++++++++++++++++++++

It takes a long while for Tech to exit the ‘fresher. The door opens with a hiss and you stiffen, not looking up until he briskly walks past you and resumes his makeshift work station in the cockpit. Once he is seated and his back is facing you and you can hear the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on his datapad, you allow your entire body to relax.

You look back down to your newest project: fixing the swivel action on a chair. You’re not entirely sure if the chair needed to swivel, or whether it was supposed to, but it does now. At least Omega would have fun with that.

“Can you spare another minute?” Tech says after a considerable stretch of silence.

His comment catches you off-guard. It’s fine, it’s fine, you are just going to pretend like nothing happened. You can just carry on helping with actual repairs like you promised.

“I’m coming,” you say, while putting your entire weight into tightening a screw.

Tech coughs slightly.

“The, uh, I need your help with the cum system. The comm system!” he stutters.

Your eyes widen and decide it’s best not to comment, furiously thinking about the fact that Tech rarely makes mistakes. You wipe your hands on your trousers and stride over to the cockpit where Tech is fiddling with some wires on his lap.

“Take these,” he says while coiling a piece of wire to make a conductor. He pushes right through the awkwardness and places a handful of resistors in your outstretched hand.

You stand there in silence for several moments before you drum your fingers on the back of his chair. He makes no move to immediately utilise the resistors, so you resign yourself to stand there and watch him work. (You suppress a sigh – you wish you weren’t attracted to him at this moment, but here you are, drawn in by his confidence and fixated on watching his nimble fingers work their magic.)

Normally, you’d have already lost your patience. But not now, not when you are trying to decipher just what exactly Tech was trying to accomplish by calling you over and ignoring you. And that’s when you realise that Tech either forgot you were there or forgot to give you whichever menial task he originally intended.

But there’s absolutely no chance that Tech makes two mistakes within the same standard year, never mind two mistakes within the same afternoon.

You start to wonder if he even has any use for the resistors. Your knowledge of technology is limited, but you really don’t see how they’d be useful with his current task. Maybe this is Tech’s uncharacteristically inefficient way to try to initiate conversation. You really hope you’re not completely misreading the situation, but it’s not like you have any pride left to lose.

“Why did you stay behind today, Tech?” you ask quietly, voice tinged with apprehension and perhaps an unmistakable eagerness. You phrase it more like a statement than a question this time.

He continues to fidget, his leg bouncing anxiously as he works.

“I did some research,” he blurts. “Regarding intimacy between human males and human females.”

Huh.

“I read the specifics on how to kiss,” he continues, “but I fear that I am a bit out of my depth as to how I am supposed to initiate it.” He is still fussing with the wires in his lap, not quite able to look up at you.

“You...want to kiss?” you surmise, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “Me?”

“Very much so.”

A grin breaks across your face and the sharp sting of Tech’s previous rejection immediately melts away. You deposit the handful of resistors in a tray containing various tools Tech had been using throughout the day before taking a tentative step forward from behind the chair. He cranes his neck to look at you, an unfamiliar expression that you’re not quite able to decipher written across his face.

You reach your hand out to caress his cheek, and sliding your hand down to his chin to guide it upwards as you bend down to bring your lips to his. The kiss is chaste, at first, but Tech proves himself a quick study as slightly parts his lips to deepen the kiss. His goggles nudge against your face and you’re pretty sure you’re leaving a greasy cheek print on one of them.

You pull away to gauge his reaction.

“Was that... satisfactory?” he asks, seemingly dazed. His eyes are hooded and still focused on your lips.

“It was perfect.” You offer a small smile.

He removes the goggles to clean one side of them with a nearby cloth. So you were leaving a cheek print. Once his goggles are back in place, he’s looking at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real, his golden brown eyes blinking owlishly at you.

“I apologise for leaving you earlier. I did not anticipate you returning my affections – it did not seem probable. And I was, regrettably, not prepared,” he mumbles.

“Probable?” It’s your turn to malfunction. You want to usher a thousand reassurances at once.

“Well, no.” Tech shifts his weight uncomfortably, not quite able to meet your eyes. “Hunter or Crosshair usually are the ones who capture the affections of –,”

“I like your goggles,” you interrupt in a rush before you surge forward to press your lips against his, hoping to convey just how much you return his affections. It’s a messy, urgent kiss that Tech returns with equal fervour. His fingers find their way into your hair, pulling you closer.

When you finally break the kiss, you straighten your back and take both of his hands in yours and take small, hesitant steps backwards, encouraging Tech to stand. As he does, the project he is working on slides off of his lap and clatters to the floor. He pays it no attention as he closes the distance between you, his eyes darkened with lust. He kisses you with renewed purpose as his hands wrap around your waist, roaming across your body, before they settle firmly on your ass.

Your hips grind into his codpiece and Tech lets out a low groan that goes straight to your core. He moves to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking at the delicate skin and making you squirm. The dampness between your legs becomes apparent and you press yourself closer to him, desperate for friction where you need it the most. As if he can read your mind, he trails a hand from your ass and places it between your legs, grazing over your clit before cupping your cunt. You involuntarily rock into his hand and moan into his mouth, hardly recognising the sounds you’re making.

Tech’s hand abruptly stills as he draws back to meet your eyes. His expression mirrors yours: searching wide eyes filled with longing, a silent acknowledgement passes between you as you reach the point of no return.

And in that moment you are struck with the urge to want nothing more than his cock in your mouth.

“Can I?” you blurt, glancing downward, hoping he is able to intuit exactly what you are suggesting in that moment.

“You may.” You allow the grammatical correction to slip by. “But I’ve never–,” he begins.

You don’t break eye contact and you begin to drop to your knees. He’s looking at you with his eyes wide, mouth slack. Tech’s bulged codpiece is mere inches from your face, and it’s in that moment that you realise that you have no idea how to undress this man.

And this, this is when you start to worry.

Does it have a latch? Does it even come off?

Your eyes dart from left to right looking for some sort of hint as to how it could be removed. You’re half tempted to just plant a smooch on the armour or the kiss inside of his thigh and pretend that all of this was intentional.

“I can get that,” Tech helpfully chimes in, blessedly oblivious to your internal struggle. He removes the pelvic plate with ease and, to your relief, you can see the shape of his erection straining under a layer of thick black fabric. Black fabric that conforms to his body shape exceedingly well. You reach out to feel his length, gently cupping his balls through the fabric before applying more pressure as you palm his shaft. He soft groan escapes his lips.

It catches you a little off guard, actually, to see him so hard. Knowing he’s been hard underneath his armour this entire time. Wondering when else he’s been hard and you had been none the wiser.

His cock has an attractive silhouette – it’s thicker than you expected and you can feel the patch of pre-cum that dampens the black fabric near his tip. You reach for his waistband and pull it down before slowly wrapping a hand around his shaft. He hisses with the contact and brings a white-knuckled fist to his lips.

You peer up at him through your lashes and you lick your lips, preparing to tease him a bit before taking him as deep as you can manage.

And that’s when something inside Tech snaps.

He looks down at you with wild eyes and places his hand on the back of your head to guide your mouth to his cock, apparently unable to continue the role of a passive observer for any longer. Clearly intent at putting his newfound research to good use. You lick a wet stripe from the base to the tip, before taking him in your mouth, the pre-cum tangy on your tongue. His grip tightens on your hair the same time he tilts his hips forward to push his cock further and you hollow your cheeks, sucking hard enough to make Tech groan and his knees buckle. He braces himself against the back of the pilot’s chair, captivated at the sight your mouth stretched around his length.

You begin to bob your head in a steady rhythm, taking him as deep as you’re able. You drag your tongue and press it flush on the underside of his cock, looking up at Tech with wide doe eyes, batting your eyelashes prettily as he struggles to maintain composure. You continue your pace until sweat starts to bead at his temple and his breathing becomes less controlled.

Patience isn’t your strong point and you’re too pent up not to touch yourself. You bring your free hand down your trousers, between your thighs, running your fingers through your wet folds and hum at the sensation. Tech’s hips stutter with the vibrations and his face contorts in what looks like a pained grimace. He takes a miniature step back and your lips leave his cock with a pop. He’s breathing heavily now and his weeping cock is painfully hard, his balls tight.

“I don’t want to finish in your mouth, mesh’la,” he pants, voice low.

You nod dumbly, currently unable to form a coherent thought or tear your eyes away from his erect length, only inches away from your face.

Tech takes hold of both of your forearms, helping you get to your feet, before wrapping his hands around your thighs, picking you up with surprising ease. You lock your thighs around his torso as he strides over to press you against one of the auxiliary control panels adjacent to the co-pilot’s chair in the cockpit. The incline on the panel is steep and the pressure of his hips against yours is the only thing keeping you from sliding down.

“Let me taste you,” Tech groans against your ear.

You let out a frustrated whine and desperately move to unclasp your trousers as Tech works to open your shirt. You shudder once the cool air hits your sweat-dampened skin and Tech messily palms your exposed breast while nipping at your neck. He helps you shimmy out of your clothing while holding you in firmly place before discarding them on the floor of he Marauder.

And this is how you find yourself spread eagle on the Marauder's control panel in possibly the most undignified position you’ve ever been in.

He goes to remove his goggles and you stop him.

“If they’re not uncomfortable for you, I’d like for you to leave them on.” He quirks a brow at you, quizzical. “What? I told you that they’re cute.”

His face evolves from sceptical to bashful in a few moments.

“Very well, then. I can leave them on.”

Tech moves his hands under your thighs as he lowers himself, draping your legs across each of his shoulders with surprising gentleness for a man who looks like he is ready to devour you. Once he’s on his knees and comfortably supporting your weight, keeping you pressed against the console, he places an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“A-are you okay with this?” you manage to stutter out. It’s not like you haven’t pictured his head between your thighs before, but something about his head actually being between your thighs fills you with a nervousness you hadn’t anticipated.

He mumbles his assurances against your clit. He begins with slow, languid licks and you suck in a sharp breath as you feel yourself craving more and have to stop yourself from violently bucking your hips up.

Okay, so he’s actually really good at this. You know you really shouldn’t be that surprised, Tech is nothing if not thorough with his research and it’s, er, practical applications. Any thoughts of humour at Tech’s expense are, however, ripped from your mind when he sinks a single finger inside your cunt. His finger curls with a precision that only Tech could manage and you moan in encouragement as he pumps it in and out.

You squirm when he hits the spot that makes you want to beg for more and you feel your bare ass hit a button on the console. The next thing you hear is a soft swish swish sound of the Marauder's screen wipers that you inadvertently turned on. Mercifully, it doesn’t break Tech’s concentration and his hands continue to grip your hips, holding your cunt to his face.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you chant. You writhe again and another button sounds its activation. Nothing immediately makes itself known. You hope it’s not something like a proton torpedo firing into the swampy area the Marauder landed in. Not because there’s anything nearby, but because you’ll die if Tech stops here.

He moans into your core as he brings a hand down to grip his leaking cock, desperate for some friction.

“Kriff,” you grunt at the sight of him fucking his fist, only to hear Tech utter the same exclamation at the same time.

“Is there an echo in here or something?” You smile at him, offering a half-laugh before your face contorts with pleasure once again and you hiss through your teeth.

“Yes?” a new, tinny voice chimes in on the overhead speaker system. “This is Echo... You’ve, uh, turned on the short range comm system.”

You knew Tech was a good soldier, but the reflexes in which he slammed the short range comm transmitter with his free hand surprised you. He didn’t move himself from between your thighs and skilfully cut off the transmission while continuing to work your clit with his tongue and your cunt with his finger.

Before you could die from embarrassment and wonder just how much Echo and the rest of the Batch heard, Tech adds another finger and your entire body jerks and tenses.

“I’ve – ah, right there – Maker, that feels good. I’ve never been with anyone who is patient enough to let me come,” you manage to say through gritted teeth.

“My research indicated that it can take around 20 standard minutes for women to orgasm if properly relaxed, why would others stop prematurely?” Tech replies, only briefly removing his mouth from your cunt to reply.

“Selfishness?” you guess.

Tech seemed to take your admission (and ability to form sentences) personally, clearly intent on rendering you incapacitated. He returns to his attention to your clit and maintains his rhythm, teasing a third finger near your entrance. You whine at the sensation and move to hold Tech’s head in place, because if he stops now, there’s no way you’ll ever forgive him. The pressure that’s been mounting in your core finally, finally peaks and your entire body tenses as you surrender to your climax.

“Tech,” you whine, unable to formulate thoughts, let alone words.

He assures you with a soft groan and tightens his grip on your hip. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he guides you through your climax.

As you come down from your orgasm, you feel like you’ve spent a year in bacta. You can’t move. Honestly, your bones are like Andorian jelly. The feeling is only temporary, however, as you’re overcome with the desire – no, need – to be filled.

“In me,” you urge. “Now.”

He adjusts his goggles and looks at you, spread out, completely ready for him.

“Lie back then.”

Tech settles between your thighs and nudges his cock head against your entrance. He takes a breath to steady himself, rubbing his length through your folds, covering it in your arousal.

“So wet and ready for me, mesh’la.”

Your hands wildly grasp at his chest plate, fingernails scratching along the plastoid, desperate to hold onto anything to anchor you. You meet his mouth with a graceless kiss, before he finally sinks into you.

“You’re tight,” he grits out.

He waits a few moments letting you adjust to his size before he begins to move. He restrains himself, slowly rolling his hips as your cunt stretches around his length.

“More,” you plead, breathlessly. “Please.”

Your encouragement is all he needs before he snaps his hips against yours, setting an unrelenting rhythm. He rocks into you harder with each thrust of his hips, his plastoid leg places slapping your skin.

“You feel so good, cyar'ika,” he pants. You surge upwards to greet his lips with a messy kiss, which only spurs him on to fuck you faster. “You’re, ah, taking me so well.”

“Fuck –,” you whine.

His grip tightens and his whole body starts to tense – he’s dangerously close to coming undone. And that’s when you notice his pace start to slow, his movements clearly distracted.

“Tech?” you mumble. You focus your eyes on his face and he looks dazed, you can practically hear him thinking. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong, but he doesn’t give you any time to panic.

“Elevate your hips by seven to ten degrees,” he states through heavy breaths.

“What?” Definitely not what you were expecting him to say.

Tech seems unfazed by your apparent annoyance. He wordlessly repositions himself, grabbing both of your hips and raising them slightly, holding your body up so it’s just the sharp incline of the console and Tech’s hands keeping you in place.

He began thrusting in earnest again, his eyes screwing shut in pleasure. And, Maker, he was right. The new angle hits a spot that makes your toes curl and you lose the ability to speak almost instantly and mewl helplessly as Tech fucks into you.

You made an undignified noise as you gripped his bicep, desperate to hold onto something, feeling the pressure mount in your core. With Tech’s hands busy holding you in place as he maintains a brutal pace, you bring a hand down to your clit, still wet with spit and your own essence. You barely have to touch yourself before you feel your body screaming for release.

“’M coming,” is all the warning you are able to give him before your cunt spasms around his twitching cock as your vision whites out. Tech grunts at the sensation, unable to hold his own climax off any longer.

“Where do you want me to –,” he grates out.

“Anywhere,” you cut him off, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Just want to feel you.”

“Fuck, mesh’la, I’m going to come,” Tech groans, desperately chasing his release with harsh thrusts. His hips forcefully buck into you before his cock stiffens and he spills himself inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, slowly pumping you full of his cum, before he slumps against you. “Bid jate par me,” he mumbles into your neck, barely audible. “Gotal par me.”

You don’t know Mando’a, but whatever he is saying, the way he is saying it, sends a pleasant chill over your body.

You’re both still breathing heavily when Tech gingerly places you back down with a surprising gentleness for someone who had just been fucking you within an inch of your life. He’s in no rush to remove himself from you, but when his softened cock does slip out and his cum leaks out of you and onto the console, he helps you slide down. When your feet touch the floor, your legs wobble slightly and Tech has to grasp your forearms to steady you, softly chuckling at the state you’re in.

And when you look at him, he looks positively debauched. Sated, but debauched. You probably look worse.

In one swift motion he bends down, brings an arm down under your knees, and lifts you up. You wrap your arms around your neck while he carries you to his bunk. His cool armour against your overheated skin is a welcome sensation and you press yourself closer.

“Your research paid off,” you mumble into his chest as he sets you down on his bed.

“Please do not act so surprised by that.”

++++++++++++++++++++

You and Tech aren’t quite finished with the repairs by the time the Batch return hours later, long after the moons have risen and the bioluminescent plants surrounding the ship have begun to glow. If the squad notice you’re sitting a bit too close to Tech, your thigh pressing comfortably against his, they don’t say anything.

Neither of you were expecting to defile the Marauder all day and Tech was frantically fixing the lever on a storage hatch access panel, attempting to make up for lost time.

“Wrecker!” Echo shouts. “Clean up after yourself, for kriff’s sake.”

“Why?” Wrecker drawls, stomping towards the cockpit. “What did I do this time?”

“You’ve spilled your juice on the console again, all the keys are stuck in place.”

The access lever snaps clean off in Tech’s hands.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(Bad Batch) Hunter x Reader: Rescue

   (Author’s Note:  Sorry this request took a while!  I am over covid and back to work this week, wooo!

OG Request:   The request you did with Tech protecting reader at the bar, can I request that with Hunter please? :)

Hope you like it, Anon!)

   As you weaved through the groups of individuals crowding the place, you kept your fingers entwined with Hunter’s.  A glance over your shoulder revealed a look of discomfort on your boyfriend’s face.  No doubt that the pounding music and strobing lights weren’t his cup of caf.  You gave his hand an extra tug, drawing his gaze to you as you uttered another apology.

   “I’m sorry, I just need to return this datapad to Boost real quick, and then we can go.”

   You and the Bad Batch were ready to ship out on another mission and wouldn’t be on Coruscant for much longer while Boost and the rest of the Wolfpack had just arrived.  It left a brief window, which was why you had agreed to meet him at that place to hand over the data before heading out.

   “It’s alright, _________,” he assured you.  “I’m the one who suggested I come along.  These places can be a bit...,” he trailed off as he searched for the right word, “...shady.”

   “And I really appreciate it.”  You flashed him a smile before glancing around the room.  “Boost said he’d be here around this time, but I don’t see him.”

   “We can stick around.  Make a date out of it.  Do you want anything?” he offered, causing you to smile again.

   “Sure, surprise me.”

   He leaned in to press a brief kiss to your forehead, his hand falling from yours.  You watched him disappear in the throng of people dancing and talking.  The moment he was out of sight, you continued your search for Boost, though to no avail.

   At one point, you felt Hunter’s hand on your shoulder.  You leaned into his touch, breathing a sigh, and turned around.  Only, it wasn’t Hunter.  You came face-to-face with a stranger and immediately ducked away with a narrow-eyed look to send the message that the contact wasn’t welcome.

   “Hey, do you mind?” you muttered.

   “No, I don’t mind,” he joked with a grin.  “And you didn’t seem to mind a moment ago.”

   You rolled your eyes at the attempt to flirt.  “That’s because I thought you were my boyfriend for a moment.”

   “Boyfriend?”  He took a step closer, stretching his arm out to wrap around your form and resting a hand on the small of your back.  “I could be.”

   At that point, your patience was starting to wear thin.  You extricated yourself from his hold with a grimace.  “I won’t say it again.  Please, don’t touch me.”

   He seemed to brush off your statement.  “Now, now-”

   “I’m warning you,” you said, backing away.

   “Woah, woah, woah,” Hunter interjected, swiftly catching the guy by the collar before he could reach you again.  “What are you doing?”  Relief washed over you as you gained a safe distance from the stranger and observed the rest of the exchange.

  “Back off, man,” he slurred.  “Leave us alone and mind your own business.”

   Hunter scoffed, shaking his head.  You nearly laughed at the poor response.  “Even if this woman was a stranger, it’d be my business if I saw her being treated that way.  However, she happens to be my girl.  She doesn’t seem to like you laying on her, and let me tell you that I really don’t appreciate it either.”

   “Alright, look-”  Hunter raised a brow, almost daring the guy to finish his sentence and try to come up with some excuse.  The guy seemed to receive the message because he clamped his mouth shut. 

    “Get gone,” Hunter said simply.  He released his hold on the collar with a little attitude, making the guy stumble before he hurried away like a bug scurrying away after being exposed from its hiding place.  You watched him leave, shoulders sagging in relief as Hunter turned to you.  “You okay, _________?”

   “Yeah, thank you.”

   His hand found yours again, grasping it firmly in a way that made you feel even more comforted as he pulled you closer to his side.  You squeezed back with your eyes locked on his affectionate gaze.  For a split second, you didn’t hear the music blasting, notice the lights, or pay any attention to the crowd surrounding you.

   It seemed that Hunter felt similarly because he leaned in to kiss your temple.  “Anytime,” he said against your skin.  “Now, let’s get your drink and find this Boost before I have to start beating back the weirdos with a stick.”

   You laughed, withdrawing from the embrace to continue the search.  Hunter’s lip quirked up in amusement as he followed.  Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any more strange encounters.  If there were, you knew someone who would be more than happy to take care of them for you.

[22hemi12]

Bad Batch: Amusement park date/outing Headcannons

Requests ARE still open!

The headcannons with the boys can be seen as a date or an outing (up to you)

HUNTER

Due to Hunters enhanced senses the outing would be when barely anyone is there. (Really early or Really Late)

No matter what time you both go he'll enjoy the time you two get alone, you'll defiantly see more smiles from him.

Due to the time you both get there the rides aren't active (which he's happy for (they get kinda loud))

He wouldn't eat any of the super sweet stuff (he probably would after you insist) (He likes vanilla ice cream and ice cones (plain or with very little flavour))

He wouldn't be the best at the games but you defiantly wont be walking away without a plush toy or two.

ECHO

Echo would probably not want to go at first due to his limbs (Poor baby) But he'll probably fold after seeing a pout on your face.

You'll both enjoy yourselves (despite the looks echo will get (You glare/stare back at the people who DARE stare at him the wrong way))

He wont go on any rides but he'll be the supportive one when you show wanting to be on a ride but don't coz of him.

He'll probably not eat anything he hasn't had before (DEF not any sweets) (He'll prob just get caf the whole time tbh) (He tries ice cones and likes them a lot (blue is his favourite))

He doesn't win at any of the games, which he is sad about. BUT he laughs it off when you win and get him a small plush toy. (It's on his bunk at all times and he gets all smiley when he sees it (cuuuttee))

WRECKER

OH we KNOW! it's HIS idea to go!

He'll drag you EVERYWHERE wanting to see and try everything!

He wont go on any of the rides that involves heights (which is most of them)

He'd spend ALL the credits on food (if you didn't stop him) He says his favourite food is everything but you notice he especially favored fairy floss.

He'll win the strength games 100%. Which'll get you the BIGGEST PRIZE. You'll win maybe one game and get a small plush for him (which he sits RIGHT next to lula)

He'll defiantly want a small fish in a bag (but hunter says no :[ )

TECH

It took a bit to convince him to go with you (He's a busy boy) and it takes a bit for him to enjoy the outing instead of being on his datapad.

But other then that, he enjoys himself quite a bit.

He doesn't go on many rides (He likes to tell the facts about the rides)

He'd probably just get caf (and tell facts about the carnival food that you eat) (He likes pretzels)

He is a god at the "how many (item) is in the jar" games. (he keeps winning. it's funny)

CROSSHAIR

He says he isn't interested in going, but will if you shut up (in reality he wants to spend alone time with you)

To anyone else it would seem he hates being there, but you can see that he's smiling more then usual.

He goes on the rides with you, trying not to react to anything. (but you hear him gasp sometimes)

He buys any snack you want with a shrug. (offering him your food he'll deny at first saying he's okay with just caf, but he has some anyway (anything with a stick he likes eating coz he can keep the stick in his mouth after wards)) (He also likes jellybeans and anything licorice)

He (of course) smashes the accuracy and throwing games. You leave with your (and his) arms full with plushes and toys.

Extra OMEGA

She heard about the amusement park and REALLY wants to go! so you take her while the boys rest.

She is running everywhere, after bumping into someone and nearly got yelled at, she stays closer to you, but is still super excited.

She loves the rides! He favourite is defiantly the Swing chair ride.

Just like Wrecker she would spend the credits all on food if she could. (her favourite are candy apples and jelly beans)

She is really good at the accuracy games she defiantly leaves with some new toys she got all by herself

She also really wants a fish in a bag (hunter almost says yes till tech says they die faster then normal fish, so hunter says no)

[powered-by-paranoia]

one more time | Rex

pairing: captain Rex x admiral!reader

summary: you give Rex a wrist-chrono. in reaction, although he seems fine at first, he now constantly avoids you. this somehow leads to the two of you kissing. find out how!

word count: 6241

warnings: none

a/n: I’ve been sitting on this story since December (you can see I had two special occasion attempts to post it), but here it is. finally. again, I tried to keep it gender-neutral, but let me know if I slipped up. Winter Fete is supposed to be something Christmassy or whatever, and Affection Day is... me being shit at coming up with holiday names.

this is kind of a series now I guess, but each fic can be read as a standalone fic (there’s also our fallen heroes and jaig eyes, if you’re thirsty for more. but there’s no smut. not yet. not yet.)

"He had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise."

Isabel Allende

An icy shiver ran up your spine as you glanced out the viewport. You were sitting in your office aboard your ship, having just turned around to take your mind off your responsibilities for a few minutes and sip your caf in peace. But the image — that of the lush planet you were stationed above — triggered a flashback you had been trying to fend off these past days. Only it wasn’t a visual flashback, you realized. It was a sentiment that you remembered vividly from when you were a child and your parents had gifted you a trip to Coruscant for Winter Fete.

You remembered the excitement of seeing your home planet from outer space. Your first ever interstellar trip — and to Coruscant, of all places. The festivities, the Winter Fete spirit, they were perhaps still present on Coruscant and on your home planet, but not there. Not in the coolness of space and the warship you commanded. Not among the lifeless bodies you had to wander through only a few days earlier — the bodies recovered from the battle. The bodies someone would have to deliver to worried families.

That cheerfulness now only lived in your memory. You could hardly remember the last Winter Fete you had spent with your family. Or any such holiday, for that matter. But what was easy to recall was the warm feeling you experienced every time you gifted things. The search for the perfect match, the smile on people’s faces as they realize you know them better than they expected. It had always brought you joy to make presents.

But this chain of thoughts now brought back another memory, albeit an awkward one that you wouldn’t admit was slightly painful as well. A recent one. At the start of this campaign, you had gifted Rex a military-style, top-of-the-line wrist chrono, which he had been reluctant to accept at first. After a few jokes on how this could be considered a military offense, and quite some heavy amount of polite convincing, he had eventually taken it and you had even noticed him wearing it later. It warmed your heart. And for a short period of time, you had gotten the chance to relish in the sensation once again. But only for a short period of time.

Because half a day later he had started to avoid you like you’d just been exposed to the Brainworm Rot.

It wasn’t as obvious at first — turning corners the moment you sighted him, pretending to look the other way when you passed by — but soon you just had to admit it to yourself when you spotted him turning one-eighty degrees only to disappear when he must have realized he was walking towards you.

You stared at the darkness of space, lost in thought and bordering on the line of anxiety. There were no answers coming from the darkness, only questions. Had he found out you had re-gifted it? Your mother had originally bought it for you as a Winter Fete present, but you liked your older one better and considered motivation before a battle was a decent enough excuse to offer a present to your favorite Captain. He surely couldn’t blame you for it though, could he? You barely had time to finish your cups of caf most days; how could you possibly find the time to go gift-shopping?

Then again, perhaps he concluded by himself that the gesture was offensive. But back when you gave it to him, he hadn’t seemed the least upset about it. He had even smiled and blushed a little. And if someone had the guts to call you out on your bantha-shit, it was Rex. It was one of the things you valued most about your friendship. You always talked freely, and he would never beat around the bush or keep his opinions for himself, even if they went against yours. Besides that, he always delivered contradictions in such a polite manner that you recognized he had your best interest at heart.

Your thoughts spiraled, and you bore a heavy heart with guilt for putting him in such a delicate position. You had to apologize. But in order to do that, you needed to find him and… not let him escape this time. 

***

On their way to the mess hall, Rex had been called out at least three times by Fives and Echo for constantly scanning his surroundings. He had brushed it off by telling them he was preoccupied looking for General Skywalker in case he passed by, so they could have a talk about some mission he wouldn’t elaborate on. 

Fives decided to push on and jokingly asked, “You mean the mission in which you got that chrono?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Captain. That’s quite a fancy one. I didn’t know you had your eye on the latest tech,” Echo chimed in before he could react. 

Rex was now even tenser than before, but he played stupid. “Latest tech? This?” He brought it to his face to pretend to examine it better. “I had no idea.”

“So where did you get it from?” Fives insisted.

Million excuses ran through his mind, and he pretended to study the chrono for a few seconds more to get his thoughts in order. But he settled on the lamest one. “One of the locals gave it to me before the battle. As thanks for showing up, I suppose. I couldn’t really understand the language.”

“Just in time for Affection Day,” Echo teased, and it appeared as if he was twisting the knife. As if he knew.

The idea that you had offered him a gift had been enough to make Rex’s knees weak that day. But after you had left, and he could freely relish in the feeling, a troubling notion had snuck into his mind. He had nothing to give you back. And worse, after realizing that it had been an Affection Day gift, he had done some research to find out what the holiday really meant. That way, he found out it was similar to the Winter Fete season, but mainly practiced between lovers, sometimes really close friends — people exchanged gifts.

Exchanged.

At first, he had thought he would be able to come up with something. At least something symbolic. But he ended up dismissing every idea that popped up, only to end up now, in the last few days before returning to Coruscant, with nothing. He wouldn’t have let that affect him as much if it didn’t draw other, more depressing conclusions he didn’t want to think of at that moment.

Shortly after the three of them found a place to sit and eat in the mess hall, he inwardly cursed.

“I was planning to show you the new weapon upgrades we’re getting, boys. But I forgot my datapad in the room,” he muttered. “I’ll go get it. Hold on.”

***

Rex wouldn’t have the time to register what was happening. As the lights turned on in the barrack, the door shut behind him and there you were — standing next to his bed with his datapad in hand. He looked around. But you were alone. 

“I suppose this is what you’re looking for, hm?” you asked, handing him the datapad. He stared at it as if not fully believing it was his. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry. I only want to talk.”

You did nothing to hide hurt in your voice. He took the datapad from your hand and placed it on the side table next to his bunk bed. “You can tell me anything,” he tried to say in a comforting voice, but the guilt slit through.

“Well, to be fair, I am here to listen. I want you to do the talking.”

He paused, but you had the feeling he knew exactly why you were there, and he was trying to waste time. “What about?”

“You’ve been avoiding me. Tell me it’s not just my imagination.”

He feigned confusion. “It is. I guess… we’ve both been quite busy, haven’t we?”

“Captain.” You held your gaze, although he looked away for a second. “You know you can speak freely with me. It’s about the gift, isn’t it? I’m sorry if it offended you or made you uncomfortable, I was only—”

“You didn’t,” he interrupted you, eager to deny it. You could see on his face that he had lowered his defenses. But he wouldn’t crack just yet.

“Then what is it about?”

He shrugged. “I told you. We’ve just been off-sync, I suppose.”

“Yesterday you started walking in the opposite direction as soon as you noticed me.”

“I’d forgotten something in the briefing room. I don’t even recall seeing you yesterday.”

“Like you forgot your datapad in one of the training rooms? You’re distracted. What’s it about then, if it’s not about the gift?”

“I appreciated your gift, Admiral. It’s just that…” he trailed off, but you decided to give him time to find his words. You’d sit there in awkward silence for an entire hour if you had to. “I have nothing to give back.”

You frowned and tilted your head. “Give back? What for?”

Rex brought his hands together, struggling to make the words leave his mouth. “For… Affection Day. Isn’t that the custom? Exchanging gifts?”

You froze, your mouth hanging as you rewinded the past couple of dates. You hadn’t thought of that holiday since you were in middle school and forced to exchange gifts with a random classmate. The timing of your gift had been so poor — no wonder he was avoiding you all through the ship. You panicked. 

“What day?” you said, your voice in a higher pitch than usual, then laughed nervously. “I gave it to you as a simple gift from one friend to another. I didn’t take you for someone to care when such a holiday was around.”

He shrugged. “Someone mentioned it a few days before, and I suppose it stuck with me. Still, you made time to get me a gift, while I can’t even think of something you could possibly want of what I can offer.”

You knew exactly what it was, but you also knew better than to throw it in the conversation like that. Instead, you threw in a little sincerity. “I re-gifted it.” His head perked up. “My mother gave it to me a few months ago during Winter Fete. I liked my old one better. I thought you would enjoy this one.”

“I did— I am! But…”

You went on, seeing he didn’t look so relaxed or even convinced, “I did not give it to you expecting something in return, or because of some special occasion. It was just a sympathetic gesture I thought I might as well do for a friend. I’m sorry for the confusion — I shouldn’t have put you into this situation.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Admiral,” he said, but his voice sounded a little more formal than before. As if he had switched back to his default military tone. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have handled it this way.”

“I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine,” you teased. 

He smiled. 

 ***

One day after the gift fiasco, you finally reached Coruscant, and it had been the last time you had seen each other. You both had a week of leave to look forward to, but as you bid your farewells prior to landing, neither mentioned it.

Your last day on Coruscant found you cooking yourself dinner. All alone — you watched as the water for the pasta started boiling and tried to remember the last time you had a home-cooked meal. You smiled to yourself as you poured too much pasta into the pot. You could never get it right. 

It was a pity you had no one to share it with. Your mind automatically drifted to Rex, as you knew he was probably out with his brothers at 79’s. It was their custom to spend as much time there as possible whenever they were allowed free time. But your smile faltered as you realized — of course they spent their time there. Where else? 

***

Back at 79’s, Rex was wondering whether Fives had always been this annoying, or if it was just a result of drinking too much. Didn’t he use to enjoy spending time with them, there? Why was he suddenly the subject of so many mean comments about ruining the mood for everyone? Why couldn’t he just get up from the barstool and have a good time? It was their last evening on Coruscant, and Force knew when they would return. If they would return.

Instead of talking, joking around, or dancing, Rex barely even sipped his drink. He stirred the liquid inside its glass — a half-empty glass of Corellian whiskey. 

“Alright Rex, there’s obviously something on your mind,” Fives interrupted his momentum of self-pity for the fifth time that evening. Rex didn’t even bother to roll his eyes or deny it at this point. Echo took a seat next to him on the other side, while Kix stood right behind him, encircling him. The only way he could escape them was by jumping over the bar. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

“You’ve barely even touched your drink,” Echo chimed in.

Kix reached further, drawing a conclusion. “Which means it’s not something depressing since you would drown yourself in alcohol, but it’s not something exciting either because… you’d celebrate. You’re not angry either, because you wouldn’t have come with us here if you were. You’re confused.”

Rex grunted. “Actually, I might start leaning towards angry soon enough.”

“Come on,” Fives said. “You either join the party or spill it out. And we’ll be able to tell if you’re faking it.”

Kix attempted a less aggressive approach. “We’re all brothers, Rex. We can tell each other anything. Good or bad, we’ll always have your back.”

 Rex looked between all three of them, and then at his drink. He downed it before they could say anything more and then sighed loudly. They were right. There was no point in hiding it. Though it was a stupid thing to stress on, perhaps they’d be able to provide a fresh perspective.

“Remember that chrono? The one I told you the locals of that planet gifted me?”

 They nodded in unison.

“Well, it wasn’t a gift from the locals. It was from…” he trailed off. Your name got caught in his throat. He felt as if he was about to expose you for acting inappropriately. 

“The Admiral!” Fives exclaimed, punching the bar top. “I knew it!”

Rex shushed him, while Echo rolled his eyes.

“So why are you so stressed about it? I’d be honoured!” he continued, now in a lower voice.

“I… I thought it was an Affection Day gift. She made it clear it wasn’t. To cite, she said it ‘was just a sympathetic gesture for a friend’. And that she hadn’t even realized the date matched.”

Fives’ face contorted into a grimace which only served to embarrass him further. “Ouch. Well, at least you made a friend.”

Rex shot him a glare, to which Fives responded by suddenly becoming fascinated with his glass.

“I mean, he’s right. In a way,” Echo said. “But I reckon it’s too much of a coincidence.”

“What is?” Rex asked.

Echo cleared his throat. “The date. I personally don’t believe the Admiral wasn’t aware of the date. And knowing that, why not choose another day for gifting it to avoid confusion? I guess it was on purpose, but since — you know — court-martials exist, the only solution was to brush it off as a friendly gesture.”

Rex wasn’t buying any of it; he had seen the surprise on your face when he had mentioned the date. Kix and Fives, however, were suddenly very intrigued by it.

“He’s right,” Fives said. “I mean, I’ve never seen a higher-up’s face light up that much when talking to some subordinate. Unless they’re delivering some fantastic news,” he added. Rex couldn’t believe they had all simply jumped to that conclusion in such a hurry.

“It’s called being nice. And very… expressive,” he said, dismissing the notion. “I think.”

“Well,” Kix concluded, after exchanging a malicious glance with Fives and Echo. “There’s only one way to find out, right?”

***

You flinched when you first heard the notification that someone was at your door. Not that you were particularly flimsy about visitors, but you were about to sit down and enjoy your own pasta by yourself, and it was rather late. It could mean there was an emergency. You were used to people announcing their visits.

So you brushed off your clothes and rushed to the door, only stopping once in front of the mirror for less than two seconds to make sure your hair looked decent and that you didn’t have any food on your face.

When the door slid to the side, you gaped at what you instantly recognized as Rex’s back. He was already turning to leave, but he heard the door and turned to face you. Flustered, he offered you a weak smile. 

You frowned, tilted your head a little and asked, “Did something happen?”

You could see the vigor leaving his body for a second, but he then proceeded to shake his head. “No, Admiral. Not really. I just…”

Eyebrows raised, you wordlessly prompted him to go on. He shook his head again, this time with more vivaciousness.

“Nevermind. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you at this hour. I don’t know why I got the idea that—”

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” you blurted out, interrupting him. His features relaxed, but yours tensed up. What were you thinking? He was obviously there because something had happened that he believed you should know about. Perhaps he had heard unpleasant rumours at 79’s.

He hesitated, but you couldn’t even process an excuse to take back your words or undo the awkwardness. But then, he straightened himself and finally answered, “I’d be honored. Do you have any place in mind?”

You smiled faintly. “I meant here, now. I made some pasta.”

***

Rex blinked a few times, dumbfounded by the invitation. It had taken his brothers nearly one hour of convincing to get him to visit you. And he had given in — even with nothing to bring you but his words. Words that he had lost the moment he rung your doorbell, which was the reason he had swiftly decided it was time to leave before you opened the door.

Now, he stood there in full armour, while you were without your uniform — dressed instead in a long, dark, silk robe to contrast with his white duraplast, your hair a wild mess compared to when you were on duty, and your face all natural. And in his eyes, you had never looked more beautiful. Or terrifying.

And you had just invited him in for some homemade pasta. 

***

Once inside, you had insisted on him taking off his armour, and he had happily obliged. You figured he would not be comfortable around you in just his blacks, so you offered him a pair of pants he could change in to be more at ease. He walked in while you were arranging the table for two (which hadn’t even been arranged for one — you had been planning to eat while indulging in some holodrama on the sofa). 

You moved slowly, but your heart rate could have betrayed you at any moment. Even though he stood still by the doorway, you knew he was looking at you. You felt his eyes follow your movements, yet you were aware that he was most likely just waiting for you to invite him to take a seat. However, you couldn’t focus on anything else but making sure everything was perfect. That you grabbed everything with precision and just the right amount of force. You didn’t want to look clumsy. 

Why did you care so much how you looked setting the damn table?

Eventually, you took a step back from the table and gestured towards a seat. 

“Are you sure I can’t help with something first?” he asked. 

You smiled. “You’re my guest. Make yourself comfortable.”

He hesitatingly drew a chair and sat down, and as you turned around to get the food, you felt his eyes on you again. You feared you would suddenly need a crash course on how to walk. Before sitting down to eat, you pulled out the finest red wine you could find in your cabinet and poured two glasses of it. 

The awkwardness lingered on through the first couple of bites. While part of you felt sad that this must have been the first time someone invited him in for a home-cooked meal, there was also nervousness in the air. It was the first time — so it had to be perfect. You had to make it memorable. And you hadn’t exactly prepared the food with guests in mind.

“If you’d like more salt or anything…” you began, gesturing with your fork towards his plate. 

He looked up at you, wide-eyed, and then returned to reality. “Oh, no. It’s fine. It’s delicious, actually,” he added the last part as an after-thought, glancing away from you and back into his plate. You realised then that the silence wasn’t caused by him feeling any certain way. He was just too distracted enjoying the food.

You took another bite and decided to pull the band-aid. “So why did you come all this way?” You noticed him pause for a moment. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

He took a bite to avoid answering too early. He then took his sweet time chewing it. “It was stupid. I wanted to clarify something, but it was already clearing up as I got here. I had some drinks at 79’s and…”

“And…?”

“What you said about the gift. I kept turning it over in my head.”

Your appetite faltered — not that it managed to grow too much since he had gotten there. Not for the food, at least. But you raised your eyebrows and tilted your head. “What about it?”

“About it being a nice gesture… from a friend to another friend.”

“Well, I assumed it would be a nice gesture,” you explained, playing stupid and purposefully ignoring the last part.

He sighed. “It was, that’s not what I wanted to clarify. It’s…”

You watched him draw in a deep breath, and you realized he wouldn’t continue the explanation. Your shoulders dropping, you let go of the fork and placed both your elbows on the table. “It’s about us being friends. I know.”

Another long moment of silence, where your eyes only met for a split second before you looked away. 

“I know it’s not professional. I know I shouldn’t be giving you gifts or inviting you into my apartment to have dinner. If you feel uncomfortable, you can tell me. And I will stop. No hard feelings.”

Lies. You’d omitted that you didn’t really care what you should or should not be doing when it came to him.

“I’m not. In fact, I feel the most comfortable when I am around you, Admiral.”

“Then I see no way our friendship could conflict with our duties. Do you?”

You’d expected a solid ‘no’, or at least a vigorous shake of his head. Instead, he hesitated. Your eyebrows twitched.

“It does, in a way,” he half-heartedly admitted. You weren’t sure you liked where this was going. But he must have noticed your body tensing up, as he quickly added, “Although not in what I would consider a bad way.”

“How so, then?”

“Some days, when I read news of the war on other fronts, the first thing on my mind isn’t ‘How would I have handled this?’, or ‘What can I learn from this?’. The first thing on my mind is you, and how I can’t wait to discuss it with you.” He’d glance around as he spoke, switching from looking at you, to his plate of food, sometimes at yours or at the decor in your kitchen. “There are moments when I am in the middle of the firing zone, and I have to make the decision on whether I should ask for air support. And I find myself secretly wishing you are the one commanding those ships that drop into the atmosphere. Because it means I get to thank you later.”

Your grip tightened around the glass of wine as you brought it to your face and pressed your cheek against it. It was a useless attempt to keep you from blushing, but the coldness grounded you.

“I understand,” you muttered after a few moments of silence. He looked up at you, but you had to avoid it. “When I come up with strategies, I never consider them any good until I pass them through you. I always pay extra attention to what the 501st is up to in briefings. Kriff, my mother got me a chrono and all I could think of was how I was going to gift it to you instead.”

Had you accidentally slipped truth serum into the pasta? What was happening?

You both chuckled nervously at your last confession. 

“I have never had the opportunity to call someone a close friend,” you continued, trying to figure out ways to drive the awkwardness away from the conversation. “But I suppose this is what it feels like. I’d rather know I have a friend in you than to be permanently struggling to come up with ways to win the war by myself.”

“Of course you have a friend in me. You will always have.”

While he delivered the line with a smile on his face that you mirrored, a wave of sadness engulfed you. You continued eating, stopping now and then to either comment on rumours and news from the battlefield or on how coincidental it was that both of you had only one day of leave left. Knowing that, you felt as if the Galaxy was prodding you to do something about the craving of your heart, but your mind was quick to quiet that plan. He would have said it by now, wouldn’t he? You had given him all the signs — told him how your thoughts always seemed to lead to him. He would have done something about it, had he thought the same of you.

***

Rex wasn’t sure he could hold the food down for much longer. It wasn’t anything physical — and the taste had been exceptional — but he felt as though there was an ever-growing hole in his stomach that threatened to kick everything else out.

What was he doing? He had come all this way, encouraged by his brothers, to let you know how he felt about you. It was the right thing to do. From there, you would have the power to decide whether you should never speak again, or…

Or what?

What options did he really have, but sit awake at night and think of all the what-ifs? You were an Admiral in the Republic’s Navy, and he was a clone commander. Bred for war. Not for figurative earthquakes in his stomach.

Then you’d said it again, that wretched word. Friend. Close friend — the culmination of what was possible and realistic between the two of you. It was, at its core, bittersweet. He was honoured you considered him a close friend, but ashamed that he wanted more. He was sitting in your home, eating your food, drinking your wine, and he still wasn’t satisfied.

***

It wasn’t hard to revert to a normal dinner conversation after clarifying the matter, but a remnant of doubt still nagged you. Whether he felt the same, Rex didn’t show it. 

As you both finished your food, the uncomfortable atmosphere of having left things unsaid grew exponentially. He still had some wine left in his glass, yet you hadn’t touched yours, besides a courteous sip. You didn’t trust yourself that much. Even sober, you could barely hold your feelings in.

The time to clean up the table eventually came, and he had insisted that he could at least bring his own plate to the sink. You let him, but instructed him to leave the glass on the countertop next to it.

Instead of pouring the untouched wine into the sink, you stopped behind him and downed it. He said nothing about it, but looked at you curiously.

“I never said it back,” you commented while placing your empty glass of wine next to his, avoiding his gaze. The gesture brought the two of you even closer. 

“Said what back?”

“You told me I would always have a friend in you. I never said you would, too.” You looked up at him and met his confused grimace with a dead-serious gaze. “You have more than a friend in me.”

His grimace faltered, and his gaze matched yours. You’d said it, and this was it. The decision was his. You had both experienced enough awkward moments, one more could hardly make a difference.

But there was nothing awkward about it anymore. Your gaze moved between his lips and his eyes. His did the same. Instead of constantly replaying everything you had ever said to him, your mind was now completely blank, but at peace. You were living every second of that moment. Every heartbeat, every inhale, and every exhale. All you could see was him — his beautiful eyes and his lips that he parted.

You didn’t notice him raising his hand, but you felt it on the back of your neck. His thumb brushed against your ear, but then he broke eye contact for a couple of moments to arrange a strand of hair behind it. You released the breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in, and he met your eyes again.

He smiled down at you — sadly, in a way, but in his eyes a glint of hope that you were too familiar with. “Then you can have anything you want in me.”

You brought both your hands to his face, tracing your thumbs along his chin. You kept going until your hands were close to the back of his head, and you pulled him in. He closed his eyes, but you felt his grip on you become weaker. You both had the same voices in your heads, trying to convince you that your actions were wrong. But you wouldn’t let those voices win him over. Your own, you could handle. You had ignored them for so long; they had no effect on you.

As your lips crashed against his, you closed your eyes in reaction to the shivers running down your spine. He hummed softly, and something inside you went wild at the sound. You dug your nails into the back of his head and parted your lips to deepen the kiss.

First, you tasted the wine that lingered on his lips. And then, as he gave in and crashed against your lips, you tasted him. His passion, his fervor, and all the words he had wished to tell you until that moment. All the missed opportunities and all the doubts that now held no meaning anymore. No unspoken words or repressed cravings could bring you down from the high you were experiencing as he let go of his hesitation and leaned into you.

His grip on you grew tighter and his humming against your lips more frequent. You were finally his, fully his, body and soul alike.

When he pulled away, he did so as slowly as possible, as if afraid he would wake up from a dream. You kept your eyes closed until you felt him press his forehead against yours. 

Your hands that had, until that point, caressed his skin with desperation — proof of your own patience having been torn to shreds — fell limply at your sides. He ran his fingers through your hair, and you watched him revel in the moment.

Finally, he opened his eyes and whatever glimpse of sadness in them was gone. But in a split second, you could tell there was something on his mind.

“Before you tell me we shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathed, “let’s just do it one more time.”

He didn’t reply, but he moved his hand from the back of your neck to your front, running his thumb across your collarbone, and then back up to cup your cheek.

You had to stand on your toes to reach him and kiss him again. You felt electrified once again, but it lasted for a shorter while this time — he wasn’t reacting to it. Pulling away, you opened your eyes to see him staring down at you. There was a war raging inside him. But you weren’t so sure of your actions anymore, either. You didn’t want your selfishness to break him. It took every ounce of self-control left in you not to beg him to ignore all rules for one night. Your night.

He cupped your other cheek with his free hand and brought your face closer to his. 

“One more time,” he repeated, his voice somehow hoarse and soft at the same time. His lips caught yours in a hard kiss. Not as gentle and timid as he had been until then — he had won the battle against those voices. Your hands reached for the seams of his shirt and just as you slipped your fingers underneath them, before you could register what his skin felt like, an alarm pulled you out of it.

Both physically and mentally.

You retracted your hands, and he took a step back, breaking the kiss. You could hear your heart starting to crack.

The alarm was coming from the living room, where he had left his change of clothes. And his comlink.

He looked between you and the direction where it was coming from, as if waiting for your approval to leave. The corner of your mouth twitched into a smile and you gestured with your head in the direction of the living room. As he took the call, you picked a spot on the floor to stare at blankly. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but you figured out easily what it was about.

A few moments and he appeared at the threshold, fully clad in his armor, his helmet under his arm and a conflicted expression on his face.  

“The 501st is being dispatched to Ryloth for an emergency rescue mission,” he explained, and you struggled to offer him a comforting smile. His voice wasn’t soft anymore. It was the tone of a clone commander speaking to his superior.

You made your way towards him and reached out to arrange the collar of his blacks. He had readied himself in such a hurry he hadn’t noticed it getting awkwardly stuck beneath his armor-plate. “Make sure you get some rest on the way there.”

Once you fixed him, you looked up and had to swallow your frustration. He was just as saddened by it as you were, judging by the look on his face. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, but you shook your head.

“You’ll be if you don’t come back in one piece. So make sure you’re well-rested,” you said, ignoring the voice in your head that was raging at whoever needed saving. You started dragging yourself towards the front door of your apartment to walk him out, and he followed.

“I don’t know when I’ll come back. I don’t know when we’re going to see each other again.”

Before pressing the button to open the door, you turned around and pursed your lips. “I understand. But it seems we have kept bumping into each other during this entire war. Perhaps it will stay that way. Perhaps this is where we are meant to be,” you said. “Two entities crossing each other’s paths until it becomes one.”

Your words seemed to bring some comfort to him, at least enough to get him to move again. But before he exited, just as he had walked by you, he stopped once again to look at you, in case it was the last chance he would get. You did the same.

“One more time,” you muttered as you took a wide step towards him. He extended his free arm to wrap it around your waist while yours curled around his neck. And your lips met once again, with the same passion they had the first time.

You didn’t want him to go. You didn’t want it to end. You wanted him to hold you for one minute longer, and then have that minute bleed into an hour, a night, a lifetime. But you had both agreed on it, less than an hour earlier. It wouldn’t affect your duties. Although it already did.

You both ended the kiss with a smile on your faces. He would find his way back to you. This couldn’t be the end of it. 

That night, you found the spare clothes you had given him neatly arranged on the sofa. You finished the bottle of wine by yourself and fell asleep dressed in his scent. You would go back to your ship the next day — hoping, as always, that your next campaign would somehow involve the 501st. But knowing now that he shared the same hope as you.

[wanderinginksplot]

Warriors in Red Armor

Next | Masterlist

Chapter One

Hound I

"So, are we going to 79's tonight?" Hound asked. He had meant to be subtle about it, but the question burst out of him the moment his well-worn boots crossed the threshold of the small break space allotted to members of the Coruscant Guard.

As break spaces went, the one designated for the Coruscant Guard's clone troopers was an embarrassment. Some determined being had managed to cram a table and a handful of chairs inside, but it was a tight fit. If more than a few fully armored troopers went inside at the same time, none of them would get back out without removing some armor to clear the traffic jam. The lights flickered, the faucet leaked, the floor was always sticky, and the stuffy air held a hint of the chemicals that had been stored there years ago. Since then, the previous break space had been renovated into an office for one of the few nat-born commanding officers and this one had been created for the clone troopers.

Still, the smell of caf was stronger than the smell of chemicals most days and the light from a nearby advertisement screen lit the room so brightly that the flickering lights didn't give any of the troopers a migraine anymore. Hound always was a man who liked to see the glass as half-full. Maybe even a little more than half, if that glass was sitting under the dripping faucet.

Thire snorted at Hound's question, leaning back in his chair until gravity threatened to topple him. "Well, boys? Hound wants to know if we're going to 79's this lovely Friday evening. What do we think?"

Thorn glanced around the room, looking unamused by his brother's antics. "We think I'm the only other one here, di'kut."

"Exactly!" Thire said in triumph, obviously determined to ignore his fellow commander. "It's the weekend! Why wouldn't we go to 79's?"

"Because you've finally realized that it's a glorified zoo?" Thorn snapped, tone venomous. "79's is where civvies go to stare at clone troopers so they can feel like they're being daring. In reality, they're being irritating."

Having spoken his piece, Thorn tossed back the last of his cup of caf, always consumed as dark as his mood. Hound shuddered at the thought. Corrie Guard caf was brewed at the approximate concentration of speeder fuel and could eat through duracrete. Only a trooper who hated himself would drink it black.

Thorn always drank it black.

"So you don't want to go?" Hound asked again, sounding heartbroken.

"No, I'll go," Thorn told him. "Zoo or not, 79's still has the cheapest booze on Coruscant that doesn't use poison as a mixer."

"Well, that's the most excited I've heard Thorn get about anything for a week, at least," Thire smirked. "Commander Fox, you want in on this?"

The Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard, having just stepped into the break room to fill his mug with caf, shook his head. "No, I'm on duty tonight. The Clone Rights group has been cleared to march and the Chancellor wants an extra Guard presence. Stone will be stuck here as well, monitoring any new arrivals."

"Ugh," Hound said, summarizing everyone else's point of view. "Well, we'll be thinking of you both, Commander."

Fox lowered the datapad in his hand to shoot a look in Hound's direction. "Sergeant, don't you have that ARF PR stunt tomorrow at 0800?"

Hound shrugged. "Yeah, but I can do both."

"Make sure you don't miss it," Fox ordered sternly. "The last thing I need is to have to report to the Chancellor that you missed a chance to give the GAR a boost in civil opinion."

Hound saluted and Fox turned his attention to the other break room occupants. "Thorn, if you let your stubble get any longer, it'll be considered a beard and subject to facial hair regulations. Thire, sit on the chair like a normal being, would you?"

Thorn nodded and Thire grinned as he let the chair's legs slam onto the floor. Fox rolled his eyes at their antics, refilled his cup of caf, and left the break area. Hound idly wondered how many of the gray hairs appearing at the Head Commander's temples were due to the commanding officer team. Still, the Chancellor had let Fox choose his own team of COs, so there was no one to blame but himself.

"Meet at 2100?" Thire asked. "That's prime time for 79's and there'll be plenty of talent. I'll go ahead and apologize, vode. When you look this good, you automatically get your pick of the females."

Thire brushed a hand back across his hair - meticulously trimmed to maintain the subtle horizontal lines shaved into the otherwise regulation cut - and grinned at the other two. Hound and Thire rolled their eyes, but agreed anyway.

---

Kai I

"Hey, do you guys want to go to 79's tonight?" Kai asked, perched on the desk she was supposed to be sitting behind. She was always restless and neither of the other women blamed her for the odd choice of seat - even though it made inter-desk communication a bit of a pain.

Arkularia - who, for the sake of Kai's sanity, allowed the others to call her 'Ark' - was the first to respond. "79's? The clone bar?"

"Do you want to drink, dance, or find a one-night stand?" Ransom asked from behind her expansive tech setup. "Because there are better places for any of those. Closer, too."

"No, I want to go to 79's," Kai said, kicking up her chin. "And as for what I want… I want all of them. All three options, please and thank you."

"Did you just try to order a night out? Like from a menu?" Ransom asked. From the tone of her voice, Kai had managed to earn a rare smile from her boss. Of course, that was only a guess since Ransom didn't emerge from her den so Kai could verify the expression.

"No… but can you imagine how much easier that would be?" Kai asked in her own defense.

"It would take some of the fun out of it, I think," Ark said slowly.

Kai chucked a wad of flimsi at her friend and co-worker's head, cheering to herself as it connected and bounced off of Ark's white-blonde hair. "I know that, Ark! C'mon guys, do you want to come to 79's with me or not?"

"I'm out," Ransom said immediately, shutting down the projector option on her desk. She was still illuminated by the ambient light from the schematics on her datapad. The cybernetic implants in Ransom's arm gleamed in the blue glow as she dragged a hand over her shaved head. "I have to work late if we have any hope of finishing our next job on time."

"Ark?" Kai asked, not too proud to sound like she was begging.

Ark sighed, pale eyes hopeless in the face of Kai's wheedling. "Fine, I'll go along."

"Yes!"

"Ransom, are you sure you can't come, too?" Ark asked, her voice a bit desperate.

"I really do have to stay and work on this," Ransom apologized, gesturing at her assortment of datapads. "My condolences."

"We're going to a club, not facing a firing squad!" Kai admonished. "Besides, I just want to find someone fun."

"Like that last guy?" Ark asked, squinting a bit as she applied her prodigious memory to her own question. "What was his name?"

"Not sure," Kai admitted. "But he was so much fun! Great tattoos."

"So you are looking for a hookup! I knew it," Ransom crowed.

Ark frowned. "Why a clone trooper? They're never on-planet for long before they have to leave."

"Exactly," Kai said with a wink. "Love 'em and leave 'em."

"Didn't the last one stick around for a while? I thought I remembered seeing him more than a few times…" Ark pondered.

"Hardcase! His name was Hardcase," Ransom remembered. "He came by every day of his leave."

"Strange name," Ark commented.

"Strange guy," Ransom said with a shrug.

"But he was hot," Kai countered, folding a piece of flimsi to look like a tooka. At least it did in her imagination. "And so much fun. I need another someone like him."

"What happened to him?" Ark asked curiously.

Kai would have blushed if she had any shame - too bad for Coruscant that she didn't. Instead, she pouted. "He moved on with a Zeltron who works at GAR headquarters. That's the best place to meet troopers, but they don't give access to civilians unless they have official business."

"Hardcase didn't seem like the type to ghost you out of nowhere," Ransom mused.

"I… may have freaked out about him asking me to be his girlfriend," Kai admitted. "I don't want anything serious, you know? Besides, I'm the one who introduced him to the new girl. She's a sweetheart. He adores her and she's the same about him. Can't be too upset with that."

Ark and Ransom exchanged loaded glances, but Kai had no interest in a therapy session. "Right! So, Ransom, you're still out?"

"I have no interest in coming along and I have work to do here."

"Well, that was almost nice," Kai congratulated. "Ark, it's you and me. When should we go?"

Ark shrugged. "Why don't we just stop there on the way home from work?"

"Are you kidding?" Kai asked, aghast at the idea. "We aren't exactly wearing Senatorial dress, but we're still too professional for a club! No, we need to go home, change, and meet there. How long do you need?"

"I don't know… half an hour?"

"How long do you need to find an outfit that makes sense in a club setting?" Kai rephrased her question.

"Two hours," Ark corrected herself, sounding sheepish.

"That's more like it," Kai said, satisfied. Her look turned wicked as she said, "Now, let's talk about makeup…"

"Are you sure you don't need any help here, Ransom?" Ark asked their boss, her eyes widening with hidden significance.

"No, it's too late!" Kai denied. "Meet me at my apartment and I'll help you. Let's say eight."

Ark glanced back at Ransom, who gave a sympathetic shrug. Ark sighed. "Fine, eight."

---

A/N - Hello, and welcome to yet another Clone Wars-based story! I can't leave these poor guys alone. They deserve so much more than they got! So, you may have noticed that some of the characters are a bit different from the way they are normally portrayed in fan fiction. The first fic I read with the Coruscant Guard had Thire as a happy joking guy and Thorn as a serious doom-and-gloom trooper. I'm coming to realize that is not typical for fanon interpretations, but those characterizations are embedded in my mind. I hope you didn't find this too jarring!

I'm experimenting with a new Game of Thrones-style POV tracking format. Hopefully that will keep things from getting too confusing as we bounce back and forth across eight different POVs! I apologize for the short length of this chapter, but it's just a simple introduction of (most of) the characters.

[tragedy-for-sale]

What irrational fears (it’s a totally rational fear to them and they will fight you on it) do you think the clones would have?

Oooo! Okay now this is an idea (also, for your other ask, I swear I'm working on it, school's a thing though, so sorry it's taking so long-)

These boys do have some odd fears, but I mean, are you really gonna judge them?

◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Rex's fear is seeing Anakin naked. He was searching for Anakin one day so Rex went to his quarters and walked in and was immediately traumatized. Anakin sleeps naked apparently. Rex has never recovered. Anakin has, on occasion, teased at Rex, but the Captain grabs the nearest brother as a shield for his eyes.

Cody is one of those people who just doesn't seem to be afraid of anything. He cannot be jump scared or caught off guard. However, Rex knows the truth. And if Rex ever wants something from his brother, you bet your blue milk that Cody will get a note saying Rex will make his fear come true.

Fives has a fear of Ghosts. He's super paranoid. At all hours he'll com Echo, who tells him that's just his shadow. Then one day Ahsoka tells him about force ghosts and Fives loses it. He runs to Echo and clings to him for. his. life. Jesse and Hardcase started pulling pranks but had to stop after poor Fives just broke down sobbing.

Echo is rather claustrophobic, after he gets rescued from Skako. Before that, it was getting eaten by a Sarlaac. He has such a fear that one day he'll fall in and he'll be alone for the rest of his life.

Kix worries that one day there will be no caf. One day he'll go to the mess and there just won't be caf. He keeps emergency caf in his quarters just in case. If you tell him there's no caf his face will drop so fast.

Wolffe is scared of rabbits. The ears are too long and they just don't do anything but stare into his soul and judge him. If he sees a rabbit he'll throw his arms out dramatically and won't go a step closer. He will go around the rabbit, but if it starts moving he'll pick up his pace so fast. One day Plo was holding one and Wolffe was afraid to give Plo a hug for like a week, cause what if the essence of that rabbit was on Plo's robes and Plo starts judging him??

Hunter's fear is losing his hair. He loves his hair and uses the best product for it. He's worried one day it'll just fall out or his brothers will try something and he'll be left to reminisce the memory of his beautiful brown locks.

Crosshair and Tech won't admit their fears, (Crosshair: Too many blankets. Tech: Leaving heaters on) however they all have a fear of needles. Crosshair will genuinely squirm and become very uncomfortable in the prescence of one. Tech will scream for his brothers to get rid of it.

Fox hates bugs and arachnids. He won't scream or anything he just won't take his eye off of it until someone kills it or he captures it and tossing it out the window. He gets all freaked out when his brothers show him a bug, he'll step away and be like "That's not staying here." He found a catapillar on his desk and screamed, like actually screamed. He's like Blathers with bugs-

Fish scare Ponds. He loves water and loves to swim, but if he feels a fish on his feet his splashing frantically as he swims to the shore. He thinks their eyes are too buggy and they just look scary to him. Mace likes to eat fish, and that made Ponds scared of them even more.

Bly will scream like a child if he sees a butterfly. One time there was a big butterfly that landed on his helmet and wouldn't move, then he was covered in all of them. He felt suffocated and he found he wouldn't move. Now Aayla loves butterflies, she had a mural of one hanging in her quarters but she took it down upon seeing how genuinely scared Bly was of it.

[dew-itowo]

Ghost!Fives and Hunter being dudes prt 1

Of course Hunter thought he’d lost his mind when the lights flickered and suddenly there was an unfamiliar vod in front of him smiling a cocky smile. He’d heard Echo talk about a brother very close to him before, but never did he think his ghost would haunt Hunter. But why Hunter? Yes he’d done some pretty bad things, yes he regretted most of them, no that wasn’t him pole dancing at 79’s last tuesday night, but that’s getting off topic here. Hunter was seeing a ghost, and it wasn’t his own.

A shiver ran down his spine, he looked normal apart from being slightly see through. His eyes had a fire in them that burned even in the afterlife, he must be who Hunter thought he was or this would be a very weird scenario, and honestly he doesn't want to deal with that anymore than he wants to deal with wrecker wrecking the place. 

Hunter looked him over, he wore 501st colors proudly with kama at his sides. So this one as an Arc trooper as well, terrific. The grin never seemed to leave the man’s lips as he scanned Hunter vaguely. But the one thing that Hunter noticed that was out of place was the blaster burns and the hole in his plastiod chest plate exactly where his heart was. His own heart sank looking at the cause of his death. The Arc’s smile went away, though, his fire never did. 

Arc troopers are known widely for surviving pretty much anything, so it didn’t surprise Hunter when it took more than one bolt to the heart to kill the Arc. It was sad to think about. This man must have suffered for a long period before actually dying from his wounds. Poor Vod, Hunter thought as he took a drink of his black caf. He must care for someone. And someone must care for him. Maybe that’s why he’s here. 

A questioning look came upon the troopers face as he turned his head to Wrecker’s wrecking, Hunter just sighed. What use is it not to talk to someone if they are clearly confused. 

“That’s Wrecker at his finest.” He paused for a moment to add dramatic effect as Wrecker uprooted a tree outside. “Wrecking is kinda his thing.” The Arc made a pleased noise, Hunter just drank his caf like this was normal, well it was, but still. 

Hunter honestly kinda liked the presence of the ghost clone. He didn’t know anything about him, or why he was there, but he felt less lonely in a way. Maybe he was lonely too. Hunter couldn’t tell, he looked like a loner, but he also looked like the guy that’d steal your blacks while you're in the shower and then hide them so you’d be naked. In layman's terms, he looks like a little shit. 

They both watched Wrecker wreck for a while before Tech stepped out of the ship to whoop his ass for waking him up at 4 am in the morning. The ghost seemed happy watching Wrecker get his ass chewed, like Hunter thought, a little shit. 

“Tech and Wrecker are like beauty and the beast, if beauty wasn’t cute at all and the beast was a loth cat kitten.” The Arc smiles and turns his head to look at Hunter, he opens his mouth looking like he wants to say something, but he closes it when he doesn’t have the words to say it. So Hunter continued.

 “If they keep up this shouting they're going to wake Crosshair. Gods damn those that wake that sharp shooter.” The Arc nods avidly, listening to what Hunter has to offer in knowledge of the Bad Batch.  

“Crosshair is sort of like a loth cat, but has the attitude of a teenager and the silver tongue of a devil. He could kill you with his words and you’d never know it till you were dead on the permacrete.” The Arc smiles softly, maybe remembering something or someone from his past. But Hunter didn’t have a chance to ask when he heard Echo from behind him. 

“Hunter, who are you talking to?” The sergeant turned quickly, noticing that his ghost friend was gone and the Echo was the only person in the room with him. 

“Uh, no one Echo, why do you ask?”

Gods above, this was going to be a long ass year...

[princesspeachyposts-blog]

Advice to trans applicants to the Canadian Armed Forces

(Disclaimer: This advice is based on my personal experience as a transgender applicant to the Canadian Armed Forces. Other applicants may face more or fewer barriers. This is all my personal advice and not official advice from or endorsed by the CAF)

1.     If you have not physically transitioned do not disclose that you are transgender. They are not allowed to ask. However, in the medical screening interview, you must tell them about any medications you take and any surgeries you have had and why, so you must disclose that you are trans if you have physically transitioned to any degree. If you haven’t transitioned, wait until after joining and after basic to tell them you are transgender and wish to transition, otherwise you probably will not make it through the hiring process. If your name and gender markers are already legally as desired, and you have not and do not plan to ever physically transition, they never need to know you’re trans. Even if you don’t pass, they can’t ask, which brings me to my next point:

2.     If you don’t pass, they might ask if you’re transgender even though it’s illegal. In my occupational interview, my MCC asked. If this happens my advice is to be truthful. Don’t show offense or mention that what they asked was illegal, just say ‘yes’.

3.     There are certain medical documents they will require solely because you are trans, but likely will not tell you they require until months after your initial medical interview. For other pre-exisiting conditions, they will tell you up front in the medical interview what tests/forms/letters you need. For example, if you’re applying for an aircrew trade and wear glasses, they’ll give you some forms for your optometrist immediately. I assume the delay for trans people is because the med techs don’t know what trans applicants need to submit. They’ll send your file to Ottawa without the required info and your file will be bounced back as incomplete. So, if you are on HRT or have had gender affirming surgery, before you apply, get the following letters:

 a.      A letter of assessment from the doctor who prescribes your HRT. It should include how long you’ve been on HRT, what stage of transition you’re in, and whether any follow-ups with them are needed. The letter must indicate that you have completed transition, and that no follow-ups specifically with your doctor are needed. If you’ve started physical transition but haven’t completed it, don’t apply until after you have. (For example, if you have been on HRT for years but don’t plan to ever have any gender affirming surgeries your transition is complete.) If your doctor is confident that you can miss doses of HRT without issue, have them note that in the letter.

b.     A letter of assessment from a psychologist. I had never seen a psychologist before, but I had to get one for this application and pay for it myself. Unlike with the previously mentioned letter, they didn’t tell me what this letter should include, with the result that most psychologists had no clue what to write and quoted thousands of dollars for a full psychological assessment. If you have seen a psychologist recently, getting them to write this letter is probably your cheapest option, since they’ll have a rapport with you and might be willing to do it for the cost of a session or even for free. If you don’t, you’ll be hard pressed to find a psychologist willing to do it for under a couple grand. I ended up getting lucky and finding one who would do it for $500.

It’s best to have these letters ready and present them to the med tech during your medical, so they’ll add them to your file and your file won’t be bounced back once it gets to Ottawa.

4.     Be prepared to face discrimination without showing any anger, or even letting on that you know you’re being discriminated against. If you cry ‘discrimination’ it will probably backfire, as they will always have plausible deniability. You can try going to the detachment commander. However, if you do face discrimination it probably won’t be overt enough to pin definitively as discrimination, or to act against. For example, the med tech who oversaw my file claimed he didn’t get documents I submitted and, even when I handed them directly to him, came up with excuses not to forward them to the doctor who’d requested them in Ottawa. He also never once answered an email I sent him. Every couple months, he’d send me an email requesting more tests/letters of assessment. These requests were always too vague to act on without further information. However, he never responded to my questions. He did, however, respond to the questions of a cis friend of mine whose file he was also in charge of. I got lucky one day when I went to the recruitment centre and the med tech in charge of my file wasn’t there. I spoke to another one, simply reiterating my experience with med tech 1. He told me he didn’t think what was happening to me was right and took it upon himself to forward my documents to Ottawa when med tech 1 wouldn’t, which brings me to my next piece of advice:

5.     When you’re being roadblocked by someone in the hiring process, there’s no use trying to go through the roadblock. Go around. Find someone sympathetic. Go back to the recruitment centre another day and talk to a different person. There is more than likely going to be someone willing to help you, just as long as you don’t say or imply that you’re being discriminated against, but rather just describe what is happening as if you don’t know it’s because you’re trans and think it’s normal, but frustrating. They might think ‘this poor fool doesn’t even know they’re being discriminated against,’ and if they’re at all sympathetic to trans people they’ll try to help you.

6.     Pester them like flies on a carcass. Email, call, or go to the recruitment centre and bother them if you think you’re facing a roadblock because you’re trans. Don’t do this more than once every other week, but don’t wait months without any movement either. From my experience, going in person is your best bet. Is your file going nowhere? Recruitment centre every other week to see ‘if there’s any update’. (Sometimes there actually will be one!) Med tech won’t answer your email and it’s been a week? He’ll never answer. Recruitment centre to ask him or another med tech the same question(s) from your email.

7.     If a med tech never answers your emails but asks you to submit a document by scanning and emailing it to him, it’s a trap. He will never process it. Leave a paper trail. Submit it in person to him or the recruitment centre. Submit it by email to another person at the recruitment centre if possible. Even this doesn’t guarantee he’ll process it, but it does guarantee he can’t deny receiving it.

8.     Realize that it’s possible you’re not being discriminated against even if you feel that you are. It’s possible that I wasn’t being discriminated against at all. It’s possible that after seven months in medical limbo I just so happened to be cleared right after the CAF released a policy to counter discrimination against trans service members. It’s likely that even if all the roadblocks I faced were solely because I was trans, the people who put those roadblocks in place had nothing against trans people. Maybe med tech 1 wouldn’t tell me what the letter from the psychologist should include because he didn’t know, because the doctor in Ottawa didn’t tell him. And maybe she didn’t tell him because she didn’t know either, because she’d rarely dealt with trans applicants before and had no policy or precedent for my specific case. This ignorance is a problem too because it has the same effect as malicious prejudice: if you have two equally qualified candidates and one is trans it will be way harder and take way longer for the trans applicant to succeed. (It’s not even about the number of tests, letters, and documents they make us produce. They could mandate the same amount, but tell us about them in the medical interview, like they do for every other pre-existing condition. Then it would take days instead of months for us to complete them.) However, it means that even if you face discrimination it doesn’t mean you’re facing prejudice. Even if you are facing roadblocks solely due to being trans, it doesn’t mean anyone’s deliberately trying to sabotage you because you’re trans. If you’re facing discrimination it could just be institutional discrimination in the form of oversights, lack of policy, or ignorance disadvantaging trans applicants.

Feel free to screenshot, repost, or circulate this in any way you want so that it can reach as many trans applicants to the Canadian Armed Forces as possible.

[captainderyn]

OC Interview

Thank you for the tag @lumielles​! 

I think most everyone has been tagged...but @delavairesslegacy​ if you’d like to join in the fun?

Let’s do this for little miss Rie shall we?

1. What is your name? “Rielay Anne Taqq. Captain Rielay Taqq if you please.” 

2. Do you know why you are named that? “My parents must have simply picked a name from a hat, there’s no rhyme or reason to it.” 

3. Are you single or take?

She smiles, her hand going unconsciously to her neck, where a simple band gleams on a chain next to what looks like a smoothed piece of ship metal. “I am very happily taken.” 

4. Have any abilities or powers? At that she throws her head back and laughs. “Me? Honey, the only ability I have is the ability to get myself in trouble.” 

5. Stop being a Mary Sue. “I think you misheard me...my name is Rielay. Taqq. Not Mary. Sue.” she quirks a brow, good eye dancing. “It’s rude to make assumptions.” 

6. What’s your eye color? “Well, the one that’s left is blue...I’m sorry is that humor bad?” 

7. How about your hair color?

"Really? You’re asking? Most people point it our like it’s the end of the world...dark red.” 

8. Have any family members?

She beams. “Several! My husband, our daughters Sirixa and Rina, Fashira and Zasharr of course, Esrin’s parents, Emeldir and Risha...”

9. Oh? How about pets? “Esrin’s akk dog Saavi is still with us and Sirixa has a shadow akk dog she named Cahira.” 

10. That’s cool I guess.  Now tell me something you don’t like? This gives her pause and she narrows her eyes. “What kind of don’t like? Galaxy-spanning-war don’t like or Esrin-put-the-caf-mugs-on-the-top-shelf don’t like?”

11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do? “I’ve always loved singing and tinkering with machines...sometimes both at once. Tinkering with my blasters, with pieces and parts of mechanics...with my ship itself. Or other people’s ships. With their consent of course. That’s illegal otherwise.” 

12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before? Her lower lip pops out and her brows draw together. “Can we go back to the fun questions?” 

13. Ever… killed anyone before? Her silence is enough of an answer, even as she cuts her eyes to the floor and gives one curt nod. 

14. What kind of animal are you? “I’ve been told I am either some manner of enthusiastic dog or a miniature horse. Something about being small and full of rage.” 

15. Name your worst habits. She sulks in your general direction. “Really getting upbeat with these questions, aren’t you? If you must know, I tend to overthink everything and bottle it up instead of talking about it. That’s the worst of them.” 

16. Do you look up to anyone at all? Her pause is prolonged as she looks between herself and up at you. “That feels like the set up for a short joke. I don’t clear five foot, of course I look up to everyone. Especially my husband--I’ve considered carrying around a step ladder.”  17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual? She grins and immediately there’s the sense that you should regret your decision to ask. “Well, you could say I’m amBIdextrous and not just because of my cybernetic hand.” she finger guns at you and off to your left, Emeldir groans, flopping onto the table, though he starts snickering just as Rielay breaks into peals of laughter. 

18. Do you go to school? Rielay lefts her face from her hand and her cheeks are pink from her laughter. “I went until I was 14...after that I joined Zavia Torelli and Tavian Kinsley’s crew aboard the Promise and formal education fell to the wayside. I know what I’ve got to know though.” 

19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day? “She lifts the chain with the ring from where it rests against her collarbones, jangling it before dropping it. “Done and done. Happily married and a happy mother to two children. Only the mischievous freckled spawn is one I lugged around for nine months though.”

20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys? “Uh...” that gives her pause. “I don’t know.” 

21. What are you most afraid of? “Erm....” she frowns, brows creasing. “I don’t like this question, that’s not something you need to know. Moving on.” 

22. What do you usually wear? “Leather jacket, button up shirt, jeans.” She pauses. “Or my husband’s shirts with a belt. It works surprisingly well.” 

23. What one food that tempts you?

“Anything chocolate. Even if its just mildly chocolate flavor.”

24. Am I annoying to you? She leans back in her chair, leaning it back onto the back legs. “Not yet.” 

25. Well, it’s still not over! “Lovely, next question?”

26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?

“Well...we’re certainly not poor. But we’re getting by. Doing as we do. Certainty not in the upper echelons of Corellia that’s for damn sure.” 

27. How many friends do you have? "Several! I’ve acquired quite a few lovely people over the years.” 

28. What are your thoughts on pie? "Pie can be good on occasions...chocolate pie is the best and that bad boy better be heaped with whipped cream or honestly what’s the point?” 

29. Favorite drink?

“Alcoholic or non? Corellian ale or whiskey for the first, caf for the second. Never combined. Caf is black or with a little cream.” 

30. What’s your favorite place? "For a long time it was my ship...but she’s seen the last of her days.” Rielay plays with the bit of metal hanging on the chain. “Now I’d have to say here, Corellia, even if I never thought I’d call this redeemed shithole a pleasure again.” 

31. Are you interested in anyone? She raises her eyebrows. “Me, interested in anyone? No, I pulled a stranger off the street and had a kid with him and now he’s living in my house. I should get that fixed.” 

32. That was a stupid question… “Well..stupid is a strong word huh, how about...poorly considered? We all make mistakes.” 

33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean? “Well, I’m not really one for swimming in general nowadays. But lakes. The saltwater does nasty things to the tech in my arm, learned that the hard way.” 

34. What’s your type?

“Hm...strong military type apparently...but soft and kind, willing to put up with my shit. I believe the type even has a name, let me think....Esrin!”  35. Any fetishes? She blushed a brilliant red. “Uhm...no.” 

36. Camping or outdoors? Her head tilts to the side. “Aren’t those one and the same? I guess so long as I have my warm husband to hold me I’d sleep under the stars, the outdoors I suppose.” 

[ruby25613077-blog]

How To Convert CAF Sound Files To AIF, MP3, WAV, AU, And many others.

Now that you know the way to export your GarageBand songs to iTunes and methods to use your customized music with the other iLife applications, let us take a look at how one can convert your AIFF files to MP3 in iTunes. After all, audio editors provide better audio convert and edit tools. And you can nonetheless get free AIFF to MP3 audio converter software program as normal. Some MP3 audio editors may have big measurement and operating system affect in a level to decelerate your laptop. But when you've got more tasks than audio to MP3 changing, get skilled audio converter software will likely be better, without the required to put in another audio edit software. In view of moveable devices, I checklist two AIFF to MP3 editor, to transform audio information amongst Mac, Home windows, Linux and Android tablets. With which you'll be able to edit audio tracks and add audio results as a professional.

The Pazera Free Audio Extractor interface could be very easy and user-friendly. To extract audio tracks from video recordsdata, simply drag & drop them into primary window, select correct profile from listing, and click on the Convert button. If the audio quality is poor, increase audio bitrate. Any of these buttons will redirect you to "Add file" panel of program. Click on the uppermost setting line to add a file out of your computer by way of the Explorer. Updated November 1, 2009 to compensate for the disappearance of AtomicLemur's converter iLAS; on June 27, 2011, to remove a step indicating a have to manually edit metadata (Thanks, Ben!); and on July 27, 2011, to make observe of All2MP3 (thanks, Lionel!). You could need to click on the "Add Recordsdata" icon at the middle of its fundamental interface to import your required AIFF information. After which the added audio files might be displayed on the primary interface. There are many choices of changing AIFF to MP3, like using AIFF to MP3 converter or direct on-line changing. Some AIFF to MP3 converters on-line enable customers to transform anaiff file intomp3 file for free. Nonetheless, it has a restricted size of the AIFF file you need to convert. If you wish to convert a larger AIFF file to MP3 audio, you could pay some cash for the changing. Furthermore, changing AIFF to MP3 online requires you to add your AIFF file first and enter your e-mail address for receiving the converted MP3 file. In case your AIFF file just isn't private sufficient and is in small measurement, you should utilize those AIFF to MP3 converters online to vary AIFF to MP3; if not, you must find a professional AIFF to MP3 converter to converter them. Great software program, just take any digital movies and rapidly convert to a different format. It really works as described. Your query is somewhat naive. You make it sound as if all MP3 information are the same; they are not. Chance to splitting the output information primarily based on chapters saved within the supply information. In the Open Media dialog, click on on the Add button and browse for your music file. Then click on on Open. A number of the advanced settings in Change embrace deleting the supply audio file after a conversion, robotically normalizing audio, enhancing tags, and downloading CD album particulars from the internet. If you want to convert aiff to mp3 itunes 12 your FLAC information to MP3, obtain All2MP3 , a free and positively reviewed app (or Tunesify Lite , an alternate on the Mac App Retailer). Skip the subsequent step.This very best AIFF Converter helps importing AIFF recordsdata by clicking "Add File" on the interface. Beside this manner, dragging and dropping AIFF recordsdata to the primary surface of the program. CAF, WAV, MP3, AIFF, AIFC, AU file formats, and so forth. Rearrange the tracks in your desired order, then click the Crimson "Record" button in the bottom-proper of Toast Titanium. Once burning is completed your AIFF recordsdata will now be on an audio CD. On a LAPTOP these files will now be displayed ascda recordsdata.Pattern Charge: Choose the pattern rate: 8000 Hz, 11025 Hz, 22050 Hz, 44100 Hz and 48000 Hz. Much like bit price, altering sample price adjustments filesize. 44100 Hz (44.1 kHz) and 48000 Hz (48 kHz) are the usual ones. No tech data required. Intuitive interface makes it simple for everyone to be the master of audio conversions. For those who do not know what bit charge or frequency to decide on the wizard of this system will routinely set essentially the most appropriate.Audacity can export on to AAC if you install the non-compulsory FFmpeg library To export to AAC choose M4A (AAC) Recordsdata (FFmpeg) within the Export Audio window then type the file name. If you're exporting an AAC file for mobile gadgets, you may add the M4R (ringtone) or 3GP extension after the file identify and dot as required by the system.Lossless files owe so much to the specifications of the conversion process, as well as the conversion software program and other factors. Should you look lengthy enough, you might be sure to search out some FLACs that blow away an ALAC, and vice versa. For all practical purposes, when the extenuating circumstances cancel out, FLAC and ALAC run neck and neck, both in audio quality and file dimension.

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

Episode 6: End of an Era

Strap yourselves in guys, this one’s a long one, but a good one. 

In this session, we were joined by two friends who happen to be married to each other, L and A. L provided snarky comments on the session hijinks and A played sound effects and brought the DM’s speakers over when he wanted to play something specific. 

The DM explains how, after an 8-hour speeder ride across the planet, we’re put down in a field and the speeder disappears. We’re in the middle of open farmland, nothing but rolling green fields dotted with small rounded bumps. These look like old abandoned grain silos, but Grif and Rralwarr know that inside one of these silos is a turbolift down to the safehouse. 

Rralwarr: I wanna do something. Before we go in there, I want to check Taveau for anything Death Watch could be using to track us. 

DM: And you’re... going to do this how? 

Me: Are you going to warn Taveau before you do whatever you’re planning to do to him? 

Rralwarr: Yeah--like “hey Taveau I need to check you for trackers before we head in.” 

Taveau: h

DM: Yeah that was technical language, you only barely understand what he’s saying. 

Taveau: I got like... half of that. Grif? 

Grif: 

Grif: Hmm what? Oh I was trying to remember which of these silos leads to f̸͎̽l̸̤̾u̵͙͆f̸̗͆f̸̣̀y̵̰̎p̶̦͂ḽ̷͊à̶̳c̶͕̄ê̷ͅ... 

Everyone: 

Grif: Yeah he wants to know if there’s any way Death Watch could be tracking you. 

Taveau: *instant paranoia* I?? Don’t?? Think so??? Uh, this armor never belonged to them, I don’t... 

Rralwarr asks if there could be something in the helmet. Taveau explains that it’s a remarkably low-tech helmet, only useful for deflecting plasma bolts from your face and holding caf, but lets Rralwarr examine it. It is, indeed, a very plain helmet with no attachments. Rralwarr is satisfied. We head down. 

Rralwarr and Taveau both have a bad feeling. It seems too easy. I’m kind of expecting Death Watch to already be down there, holding Grif’s family hostage. When the new Roll20 background loads up, showing a bunker, I nearly have a heart attack when I see several character tokens facing the entrance where we’ve just appeared. This changes to relief as I see that they’re Wookiees. 

DM: as the doors open, you see two Wookiees in the room before you. They roar an enthusiastic greeting, and one rushes forward and hugs Rralwarr. From behind them, you hear someone speaking basic. “Excuse me--Medrull, Talwarra?” and poking in between them comes a man who looks a lot like Grif, but older and greyer, in very luxurious robes. 

Baron Welkonna: Son. I’m so glad to see you safe. Rralwarr, thank you for keeping him safe. 

Then there’s sort of a moment of awkward semi-silence as everyone looks suspiciously at Taveau. Everyone except Medrull, of course, who immediately starts talking to Grif about how much taller he’s gotten, and asking whether he’s been eating well. Baron Welkonna pulls Rralwarr aside, but the other two Wookiees stay where they are, politely but firmly barring Grif and Taveau (mostly Taveau) from entering the room. 

Baron Welkonna: I was not anticipating a third person, Grif made no mention... is everything alright? Who is he? 

Rralwarr: Yes, it’s alright. Regarding Taveau--Taveau is his name--he’s helped us on our journey and as far I understand it he is running away from the ah

H: 

Dm: 

H: I Should Probably Think Before I Speak

DM: Yes. 

H: OK I’m starting over. 

DM: You can do that. 

Rralwarr: Taveau is our pilot, he is the one who got us to our destination, and... he is running away from slavers, as I understand it. He hasn’t told us much and I think there’s more to it, but he has helped us, and has fought alongside us in battle. 

Baron Welkonna: Ah, the poor man. You trust him? 

Rralwarr: Enough. 

Welkonna: Does Grif trust him? 

Rralwarr: Yes, I think so. 

Welkonna: Medrull, Talwarra, everything is clear. 

We’re allowed into the room and Baron Welkonna comes over to Taveau. 

Welkonna: I apologize for seeming a bit rude at first. These are trying times, but I have been assured that you are trustworthy. 

And he holds out his hand for a handshake. 

Now let me explain. Taveau feels like he’s entered another dimension, here. Not only is this man ridiculously wealthy (and Taveau is still semi-convinced he’s some kind of royalty), but he’s nice. Taveau isn’t sure how to react to either of those things but especially not the second one. 

Taveau: 

Taveau, struggling to remember how normal human beings behave when they’re not fighting for their survival and having near-death experiences every two seconds: 

Taveau: Thank You Sir *shakes hand, casually has an out-of-body experience* 

Baron Welkonna: I understand you’re been a great help to my son. 

Taveau: h 

Grif: Ohmygoodness he has been amazing!! He’s such a great pilot and he got us off of Ryloth when we were trapped there and I don’t even know what would have happened if we hadn’t met him, we probably would have died! 

Taveau, having another out-of-body experience: I... would have died too, so... thanks for letting me tag along? 

Baron Welkonna walks Grif and Taveau around the complex, showing Taveau the facilities, while Rralwarr hangs out with the other Wookiee bodyguards and chats about his adventures. The furnishings are simple but comfortable. There’s the living area where we came down, which has a couch; other rooms branch off of this in two directions. The one straight ahead from the entrance is a sleeping area with bunk beds, which we’ll get back to later. The other door, on the left (with your back to the entrance), leads into a dining area with doors leading to storage area, master bedroom and bathroom (with real water showers rather than sonic ones!! Taveau takes note. Taveau is still finding Geonosian sand in his hair, months later, and he doesn’t like it.) And in the bathroom there’s a hidden panel that opens to a hidden saferoom with a gun rack. This room provides access to the area which has the power generator and an escape hatch leading up to a small hangar. 

From here we circle back around to the smaller bedroom. 

Welkonna: Grif, I’m sure you remember this, you used to love playing on these beds. 

Grif: Oh yeah! During the safety drills.... I remember those. 

Welkonna: Do you remember the time you hid under the covers and we couldn’t find you? Midkrarr was ready to tear her fur out with worry... you scared your mother, too. She was so happy when we finally found you. 

Grif: ...I remember. 

Welkonna: Anyway, 

He opens another hidden-panel-door into a vault holding an impressive amount of weaponry. 

Grif: Wow dad, I don’t remember all of this! 

Welkonna: Ah yes, I’ve made some additions to the place since you were last here. Actually: here, might want to take this. 

He takes down a suit of concealed body armor that will go under Grif’s clothes. 

Grif:  Wow, this, this is—I don’t even know where you’d get something like this! Thanks, dad!! 

DM: Taveau, Baron Welkonna notices you hanging back at the door, not sure if you should enter. He says “Ah, you look fairly well-armored already, but I have an attachment that might be helpful.” 

*L and A play the Zelda item gain noise from the couch. Party takes a moment to laugh at this* 

Welkonna gives Taveau a wrist attachment with a concealed vibroblade. Taveau is beyond pleased and puts it on his left wrist and starts playing with it. 

H: Please don’t tell me he’s just standing there flicking it in and out

Me: Heheheheh that is exactly what he’s doing. He looks very pleased with it. Finally he retracts it and looks up at Baron Welkonna and says “Thank you, sir.” 

M: Hey can I roll to see if Grif notices any guns he could use that would be better than what he’s got? 

DM: Sure. (he do that) You see a very nice blaster pistol, looks like republic army issue. 

Grif: Heyoo, dad, where’d you get that one? 

Welkonna: Oh, that was a gift from an army supplier I helped with some tricky negotiations. I have no real use for it, would you like it? I certainly can’t object to you having more protection, though I wish it weren’t necessary. 

Grif does indeed take the gun. It is a nice gun. 

DM: meanwhile, Rralwarr has been shooting the breeze with the other Wookiee bodyguards, and has have endured some good-natured teasing from Midkrarr, the oldest, who is Baron Welkonna’s personal bodyguard. Medrull and Talwarra are also glad to have you back. They’re excited about the new gear they have—shock sticks. Would you like one? 

H: You know this is incredibly obviously that room full of gear that you find right before The Boss Room 

DM: I am being nice to you :) 

H: Yes I take the shock stick. 

DM: Excellent. You can sling it on your back.

Rralwarr discusses where the rest of Grif’s family is with the bodyguards--his sister is with her husband’s family, the brother who went into industry was off-world at the time and they’re having trouble contacting him, but they think he’s OK because he was about halfway across the galaxy. We also learn that Grif was the middle child, his brother was older and his sister younger (though one would presume not much younger). 

DM: Medrull pulls Rralwarr aside and softly grunts to him that Midkrarr was the personal bodyguard to Lady Welkonna as well and is taking her loss very personally. She’s been extra vigilant. She considers it a failure on her part.

RR: I understand. But we’ll be safe here—

-PROXIMITY ALARM BLARES-

Everyone: Of Course It Does

DM, to Rralwarr: Midkrarr rushes past you, nearly knocking you over in the process, barking at the other bodyguards to take up defensive positions. 

Rralwarr quickly gives the other bodyguards an idea of what they might be up against, then goes looking for his boy 

(Rralwarr:)

Rralwarr: GRIF WHERE YOU AT

Grif, reacting to the alarm: Oh! That sounds bad! 

Rralwarr: Ah he’s in here. 

DM: You encounter them rushing out of the vault room. Baron Welkonna races into the dining room area, where there’s a display screen on the wall, and you all follow him. About 5 miles out you see a small freighter, flying low to the ground and slowly. You think you may have about 5 minutes, they have to go over a lot of hills and it’s slowing them down. 

Welkonna:  I was afraid of this. It seems we’ve been followed. I expect it was someone in the police force who told them where we were. (sigh) alright. It’ll take them a while to get through... We’re far enough down to be safe from anything but orbital bombardment, I don’t think they brought a capital ship. I think we need to retreat to the safe room. 

Taveau: Then you’ll just be trapped in there! 

Welkonna: I’ve reported it to the police, a force should be here in about an hour. Surely we’ll last for that long. 

DM: ...The ship... is still approaching... what are you gonna do... 

[Party discusses various options. Leaving through the escape hatch won’t work, they only have a small speeder there, they’d be easily chased down and shot.]

DM: Guys... the ship... is getting really close... what are you gonna do... 

[Welkonna heads into the saferoom, still arguing with Grif]

DM: Guys the ship is ALMOST HERE. IT WILL BE HERE IN LIKE. TEN SECONDS. 

Taveau: the bodyguards are going to be at the door, right? I’ll stay with them as long as possible. 

Rralwarr agrees. 

Grif looks at his friends, then his father. 

Grif: Dad, I think I gotta go with em. I can’t leave em alone--

Taveau: No, you don’t gotta. Go in the safe room. 

Welkonna: Son, please, I can’t lose you too. Stay with me. 

At around this point, the other two head to the front, and Taveau, Rralwarr, Midkrarr, Medrull and Talwarra all take cover in places around the living room right outside the turbolift area. They also recall the turbolift so that the invaders can’t use it, but let’s be honest, did anyone really think that would stop these guys? No. But we could say that we tried, at least.

DM, to Grif: At this point, you’re at the hidden door. Baron Welkonna is already inside, Grif is still outside in the bathroom. Baron Welkonna is coming back like he’s going to grab you and pull you inside, Grif; and you notice this at the same time that you notice that you’re standing right next to the emergency seal on the door. 

M: ooh. ... Hm. 

Grif: Alright dad, I’m going. 

And he steps out and presses the release. 

Welkonna, muffled, through the door, which is now sealed for the next thirty minutes: Aaah fierfek! 

Grif: I’ll try to stay safe dad! 

Grif goes and hides around the corner of the other bathroom, the one at the back of the first room, where the others are waiting. Nobody notices that he’s joined the party yet. 

The last we saw of the display showed the ship on the ground and six figures walking towards us. The Wookiees begin to roar--the DM describes it as a rhythmic sound that slowly builds in intensity as they psyche themselves up for battle. It works so well that it gives us all a +5 bonus to attack rolls on the first 3 turns. 

Above us somewhere, there’s a very loud explosion. It sounds like the freighter may have blasted the door open. Then there’s silence, maybe a few footsteps... then suddenly: 

Kote! Kandosii sa ka'rota, Vode An

DM: You hear, of all things, Vode An, but it seems to have changed, because this version is interspersed with bloodcurdling whoops and screams and lyrics that mention restoring the glory of the Mandalorian empire, taking the wives of the Aruetiise, and drinking blood from their skulls. Taveau, this gives you very unpleasant flashbacks. 

Me: Yes It Does

DM: Roll a 1d4. (2) It’s difficult, but you manage to steel yourself and keep composed. That was a PTSD roll, by the way. 

Me: Excellent (I appreciate the devotion to accurate characterization, and also the material for possibly later writing something. I’ll also throw in here that Vode An had come up a couple times in earlier sessions, as the DM and M discussed how great it was and played it for the rest of us. It’s from the game Republic Commando, which I bought during the Steam winter sale but haven’t tried playing yet. Considering how bad the book punched me in the feels, I’m almost afraid...) 

We hear the sound of jets firing in the elevator shaft, followed by 6 thuds. They’ve jetpacked down. Then, we hear one of them shouting at us through the door: “Aruetiise! We are not without mercy. We offer you peace! Return the foreigner, his pet, and our property to us and we will leave you alone. Otherwise, you must die.” 

DM: the Wookies respond immediately, cursing the parentage of the speaker. Taveau, with your shaky grasp of Shyriiwook, you think you hear one of them call the speaker a Hutt sex slave. You’re not sure you want to think about this too much, and question your decision to learn Shyriiwook. 

(Me, internally: are you telling me Taveau hasn’t heard worse in Mando’a) 

Speaker: You have ten seconds to respond! 

At this, Grif pops his head around the corner of the bathroom wall, and yells:  GO TO HELL YOU SONSUVBITCHES! 

At which Taveau whips around and goes GRIF WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE! 

The answer is, Grif is using his Presence skill to give us an advantage. 

Ten seconds pass, and the Speaker calls “Ha! Foolish aruetiise, soon you will taste the blades of Death Watch!” 

Just in case there was any doubt left as to who we’re dealing with, yep, it’s definitely those guys. 

Taveau noted that Death Watch had mentioned three people specifically this time. They’re not just after him. He gives up the idea he’d had of turning himself in and taking whatever punishment they had planned for him. It wouldn’t be enough, would it? He’d been stupid to think there was a chance. But honestly, who would want to kill Grif? He was... Grif. Rralwarr was more likely to be seen as a threat, but he hadn’t personally gone out of his way to anger Death Watch, he’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And he hadn’t been the one to kill the guy. 

Taveau, who was pressed against the wall to the side of the door, leans over to the door and shouts “what do you want with these outsiders?” 

There’s a bit of a, possibly surprised, pause, then the Speaker responds “We want to get to the one who shot one of our own.” 

Taveau: The kid? No he’s useless believe me. He was in another room. I don’t think he even had a gun. And the Wookiee was just trying to protect him, I guarantee he wouldn’t have shot if he’d known who he was dealing with. 

DM: There’s no response. 

Of course there isn’t. 

We hear explosives being packed around the door and we all duck and cover. The door blasts forward into the room, and in the smoke-wreathed gap appears the first of our enemies, a tall man with a rather large blaster carbine slung across his chest. He’s not using this. He is, in fact, brandishing a large beskar-bladed sword. This is the Blademaster. And so it begins. 

(I’ll spare you the frantic rolling and the “oh, he missed... he circles around to try again... that guy... also missed,” and try to make it a bit story-like). 

Another Death Watch grunt runs out behind the Blademaster, and the two team up against Medrull, who’s on the other side of the door from Taveau, whom they don’t seem to have noticed. He’s standing very, very still. 

In the chaos, Grif pops out again and takes a shot at the Blademaster. He hits, though the hit doesn’t do very much damage. This man is a tank. 

H, to M: HEY! THAT IS THE FIRST TIME YA HIT SOMETHING! 

DM: Yeah, and he definitely sees you now. ...But not you, Taveau. 

Me: Can I make a sneak attack with my two vibroblades? 

DM: Yes... (not-a-very-great roll) Ah, well, you try to sneak up on him while his back is turned, but you bang your elbow against the filtration column, and he hears it and dodges your attacks. 

Talwarra nearly kills one of the troopers, but he’s still up and fighting, on a sliver of health. 

All 6 of the Death Watch are in the room now, including a Scout with a very nice & stabby knife and four grunts, fairly ordinary troopers whom the DM refers to by number in the combat initiative list. 

Trooper 3 shoots at Taveau. He hits Taveau. He hits Taveau for a lot of damage. All of it, in fact. He nat 20′d both of his attack rolls. Taveau is insta-downed (not killed) and falls to the floor, limp. 

(the drama of the moment is somewhat lessened by L shouting from the couch “and then one of the troopers starts crying and goes I didn’t want to go to war, I had a liberal arts degree and no one else would hire me!”) 

Rralwarr roars, intimidating the troopers, who all try to stay as far away from him as possible for the rest of the fight. 

The DM mentions, at this point, that these armored bastards have Wookiee pelts braided around their armor. This does not endear them to our allies. 

Grif takes a shot at the nearly-dead guy previously shot by Talwarra and manages to finish him. He’s a bit surprised, and a bit concerned to see what their response will be. 

The DM gets back to Taveau. “Roll a 1d3.” Ah yes, we are now in the world of death saving throws. 

And I’ve just rolled a 1. 

DM: OOOOOH.... 

Me: I HAVE INSPIRATION

DM: Oh good, reroll that. (a 3) Oh! Okay. Good. That was good. You’re stable now. 

Me: But I can’t move? 

DM: No, you’re still unconscious. 

Talwarra, meanwhile, grapples with one of the troopers and manages to restrain him, Medrull is still boxed in by several of them while Rralwarr takes shots at them from around the couch, and while all this is happening, one of the troopers who isn’t currently busy with the others goes over to Taveau’s limp body, grabs him, and starts dragging him away. He disappears through the door and into the turbolift shaft before anyone does anything. 

DM: Medrull... Medrull is going to attempt something a little spicy. (rolls a 24) Ah, yes. She moves in, grabs the guy who was previously holding Taveau, pins his arms, puts him in a chokehold, spins around and uses him as a meatshield. Taveau just sort of slumps to the ground in the turbolift shaft. 

And that was where I remained for the rest of the fight. But the man who tried to abduct me went on to have a very bad time. 

Grif shoots the man fighting Talwarra, but he manages to break out of Talwarra’s grip. The Scout joins him in ganging up on Talwarra. 

DM: Talwarra, enraged-- 

H: OOH IS HE IN WOOKIEE RAGE MODE?? 

DM: ...I am sure Talwarra is in a Wookiee rage, yes. Is this a thing? 

(TO THE RULEBOOK!) 

This is a thing. Wookiees have sort of a berserker mode, and considering they’re being attacked by maniacs wearing the pelts of their dead brethren, it’s pretty safe to assume that our friends are going to be doing that during this battle. Talwarra, buffed by his righteous anger, starts whaling on the nearest member of Death Watch. Meanwhile, another trooper tries to shoot at Medrull, and his shot glances off The Human Shield for 5 damage. To The Shield, not to Medrull. The Shield wriggles around in a desperate attempt to escape, but rolls low enough to bring a deadpan “Yeah, there is no escape” from the DM. 

The Blademaster also fails to land a hit on Medrull. 

M: You know, “The Blademaster” seems like an interesting name for this guy who’s never hit anything with his blade... 

DM: Medrull decides this trooper she’s holding has too many arms... (bad roll) but fails to pull any off. She’s still got him in a firm grip, though. 

It’s here that Grif yells to Rralwarr, “Get Taveau!” because I’m still lying just outside the room. Rralwarr is surprised to see Grif there, but ‘trusts his judgement.’ He doesn’t run for Taveau, though. There are kind of a lot of people duking it out between him and the door, including Medrull, who’s swinging around an entire flailing human. Instead, he takes a shot at the Blademaster, master of the blade which never lands. 

Grif, seeing that he and Talwarra, who’s closest to the back, are getting a lot of attention, yells “let’s fall back!” to Talwarra and ducks into the bathroom, which, might I mention, has no other exit. The trooper Grif had shot at a moment before rushes after him. And then he rolls a crit fail, crashes into the door, injures himself, slips on the slippery bathroom tile floor and falls on his face. He is now prone. Grif steps over him to get out of the room, and then shoots him while he’s still lying down. 

Talwarra grapples with the scout and The Human Shield, who is having a very bad day, continues soaking up damage from his own teammates. Then the Blademaster makes a surprise-dash attack on Rralwarr, which does 34 damage, leaving him nearly dead. Medrull, seeing this, goes into rage mode and decides to body-rush the Blademaster, using The Human Shield as a battering ram to smash him out of the way. She succeeds beautifully, inflicting damage upon both the Blademaster and The Shield, who is really not having a good day. 

The Blademaster, now nearly dead, moves away from us, and... before anyone can finish him off... pulls a syringe from his belt, jams it in his neck, and regains a large chunk of his HP. 

Me: I hate that guy. 

H: I hate that guy too. 

M: I don’t like sand. 

Rralwarr medpacs himself, gets his health back, and then goes into rage mode. Medrull, still holding the least lucky man on this team, uses him as a melee weapon to bludgeon one of his teammates. Rralwarr takes out his new shock stick and slaps the Blademaster with it. The Blademaster goes down. 

Grif takes another shot at the trooper who slipped facefirst into the Welkonna bathroom, who has managed to stand up again but not to do anything else. He rolls a 24 for this. 

H and I simultaneously: OOOOOH, 

Me: You are more competent than Taveau, who has been trained to kill from birth! 

DM: You manage to hit a battery pack on the side of his helmet. It explodes. Half of his face is now gone. 

One more down, but Talwarra goes down a moment later. Rralwarr slams into the guy who downed him, the Scout, with his shock stick and knocks him backwards into the hallway where Grif is standing, shouting “Take the shot!” to Grif. Grif takes the shot and crit fails it. He uses his inspiration to reroll, and still fails to hit anything, but at least he didn’t crit fail and hit Rralwarr. Unlike the other member of our party. (see ep. 1) 

Meanwhile, The Human Shield is still doing frantic and ultimately useless wiggles in Medrull’s arms, and Trooper 2 gets tired of trying to aim around him and just. Shoots his buddy. 

Me, OOC: That poor guy. Seems like the Taveau of this bunch. 

Medrull backs Trooper 2 up against the wall. He’s the last one standing, and Grif comes out and yells at him. 

Grif: Give it up, we have you outnumbered! Go back to your people and tell them we fight with honor! 

This last guy, panicked, yells “I submit!!” and drops his blaster. Medrull takes the opportunity to punch him. He’s now unconscious. 

The room is full of bodies. We’ve won. 

Rralwarr keeps beating on the limp Blademaster for a few moments before coming out of his blind rage enough to treat and stabilize Talwarra. Medrull goes and gets binder cuffs, restrains the two alive-but-unconscious men--Blademaster and the last trooper--and lashes them to two of the bunks in the next room. Then she sits down to take a rest. She’s on very low health. 

Grif: While this is happening I run to Taveau and drag him back into the room and lay him down. 

DM: You know you have a small medical facility here? *points it out on the map* 

Grif: Then never mind, I’m dragging him there. 

Rralwarr and Midkrarr follow with Talwarra. As we all pass the display, we see that another ship has entered their airspace. It’s not Alderaanian police. However, it doesn’t appear to be Death Watch backup, either, as it launches a missile into the other freighter, destroying it, before touching down in front of the bunker. 

After getting Talwarra and Taveau set up in the clinic, Grif rushes to the still-sealed panel to talk to his dad, while Rralwarr returns to guarding the door. 

Grif: Dad!! (he’s breathless, gasping a little, and he sounds high on adrenaline. He’s laughing a little, too. I’m reminded that M is an actor, and a damn good one.) We did it, we got 2 prisoners, the rest are dead and right now Rralwarr’s guarding the door! 

Welkonna: Thank the Force you’re OK. I should have kept you in here with me. 

Grif: DAD!! :D I KILLED TWO OF THEM!! 

Welkonna, who’s been watching the security cam feed: I know. I never wanted you to get into this kind of life, but it seems that choice is beyond me. Now come, let’s treat the Wookiees and your friend.

Baron Welkonna gets himself un-trapped and goes to tend to the wounded. 

DM: Grif, on the display, you see, approaching the door, a Mandalorian--

M, assuming it’s the black-armored mystery man we keep running into: SONUVA-- 

DM: --In sand-colored armor. 

M: ?? WHAT!

DM: And then he looks directly into the camera--which should be completely concealed--and says “Hello! Seems like you’ve done some impressive work here. Could I, maybe... talk to you? I have some information you might find rather valuable.” 

Grif heads back to the door to discuss their options with Rralwarr, who’s starting to crash. Rralwarr’s take is “Well if he shot the other guys, let’s see what he has to say.” He’s still incredibly wary. Grif convinces him to lower his bowcaster as they head up in the turbolift, but he keeps it ready. 

DM: The doors open, and you see the Mandalorian standing in front of you. He’s slightly below average height, wearing scuffed, kind of sand-gold armor. “...Colored kind of like my Camry, actually,” says the DM. “He’s wearing Camry-colored armor. You notice a familiar-looking silvery flute hanging from his belt.” 

M, remembering that the black-armored Mandalorian murdered someone with a sharpened flute in one of their earlier adventures: SONUVA--so it IS the same guy!! 

DM: This isn’t the same guy. He’s shorter. His voice is more easygoing, rather than the clipped, aristocratic tones of the black-armored Mandalorian. He’s standing with his palms out in a gesture of non-confrontationality.

H: Rralwarr stands by the door and lets Grif do the talking.

Camry-armored man: So you’re still alive, then. Kandosii! You must be special indeed, not everyone gets a death watch assassin squad sent after them. Those damn shabuire... Mm. My name’s Mij Galmar. 

DM: He takes off his helmet, there’s a slight hiss of decompression. You see the face of a man in his late 40s-early 50s, dirty blonde hair greying around the edges. He has a face that would have been handsome in his youth but has met with a few fists since then; he’s got a squashed, broken nose.

Rralwarr takes this as a decent sign of trust and lowers his guard.

Grif goes for a handshake. “Grif Welkonna! Nice to meet you, sir.”

Mij: Rather impressive what you did there, son. Or what I’m assuming you did. I don’t know what their current numbers are, but used to be a squad was 8 men. 

Grif and Rralwarr look at each other in sudden paranoia. 

They take Mij back down with them in the turbolift, and when the doors open Rralwarr leaves at a sprint, heading back towards the medbay. 

Mij: What’s his rush?

Grif: you said 8? 6 came after us.

Mij shrugs. “Maybe 2 stayed in the freighter. Or their numbers have gone down. Death Watch has only recently made a resurgence, they’re not up to full strength; 6 was probably all they had.” 

Grif: I hope you’re right. You’ll understand our concern, though. We’ve been having trouble with these guys.

Mij: Have you, now?

Grif, being Grif, decides to roll a Charisma, and nat 20s it.

Grif: Yeah, so, what do you know about these guys? I’d like to know what their deal is.

DM: Mij gives you an appraising look. “I guess you could call me a patriot, though Death Watch would say that they’re the patriots. They’re really nothing more than criminals. I like to think of the days when we had honor, but Death Watch remembers the times when our name struck fear at a mere mention. We thought they were dead at Galadran, but it seems they’re back, and they’ve used the civil war as an opportunity to make some powerful friends. 

Grif: That’s unfortunate. Sounds like a problem for you guys.

Mij: It’s a problem for those of us who know. We Mandos typically keep to ourselves.

Grif: I mean, I guess that makes sense if you’re gonna have the kind of problems you do. Besides, considering the kind of warriors you make, I’d expect that you want to keep your secrets close. 

Mij: Look at you, already thinking like a Mando. So how many of you were there? I’m guessing you and your friend didn’t fight off the Death Watch by yourselves.  

Grif: Yes, we had a couple bodyguards with us as well, and another friend.

Mij: I see. Have they fared well, did any of them die?

Grif: Well, I mean, we had a few problems, some of them are getting patched up for minor injuries. But everyone should be right as rain in a few minutes. (Deception roll: 32)

Mij: You know what, considering what I’ve seen today I believe you. But, if you ever need help, I am a doctor.

Party: OH, THANKS, GRIF!

M: I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE SAFE I DIDN’T WANT HIM TO THINK WE WERE COMPLETELY DEFENSELESS

Grif: ...I mean, we would take some medpacs, if you have some to spare. 

Mij: Oh? Everyone’s OK, but you want medpacs? 

Grif: Yes but we used up a lot of medpacs, and now we’re a bit low. I mean, they came through our “impenetrable” door; that makes me a bit nervous.

Mij: I respect that. 

Meanwhile, Rralwarr finds Baron Welkonna, who grabs him and asks why the display feed shows his son sitting on the couch with a strange Mandalorian. Rralwarr is really starting to struggle against the fatigue now, coming down from berserker mode is worse than an adrenaline crash. 

Rralwarr: There’s... a sandpaper armor Mandalorian, out there... He shot the freighter, he took off his helmet as a gesture of trust, now he’s on our couch. 

Baron Welkonna: Will my son never learn! 

H: Rralwarr is actually a little bit loopy. 

DM: Yeah, I’ll bet. Medrull is going to lie down and take a rest in the bunk room, keeping an eye on the prisoners. And Baron Welkonna is going to go see what Grif’s up to. 

H: Rralwarr goes with him. 

Grif, seeing them come in: Heyyy! Who brought in the army? 

Rralwarr slumps against the wall, exhausted. Mij takes a look at him, then at Grif, and goes “right as rain, huh? Don’t worry about it kid, I respect the effort.” He stands and extends his hand to Baron Welkonna with a slight bow. 

Welkonna: Thank you for the service you did us in taking down that freighter. But if you’ll forgive me a bit of paranoia, considering what we’ve just come through, it is a bit suspicious that you showed up just now. 

Mij: Understandable, and I’ll be honest. I’ve been hunting these guys, I take my targets where I can find them. 

Welkonna: Ah. So you’re a bounty hunter. 

Mij: Sometimes. I prefer to think of myself as a doctor, really. 

(Party: HE SAID IT AGAIN) 

Welkonna: I... see. (sigh) This, the whole series of events the past week has been surreal. First my wife and now the attack on what I thought was a safe house. 

Mij: Wait, your wife? 

He looks between Grif and Baron Welkonna, noting the similarity, and the way that everyone’s gotten rather quiet. He looks back at Grif. 

Mij: ...They killed his mom? 

H: Rralwarr is grumbling in the corner about it. 

Mij: Shab, these... They’re going after kids now. I can’t believe... How did you attract the ire of Death Watch? They’re brutal, but usually not random. 

Grif gives him the short version of our Hypori adventure, concluding with “We’re not sure why they’re this angry, but maybe when one of our friends wakes up he can talk to you.” 

(Me: Hey, good question, am I conscious now? 

DM: You’re semiconscious. You still can’t move.)

Mij: I see. Would you like me to treat him? 

(Me, OOC, wanting Taveau to LIVE: Grif? Grif. Swallow your pride, Grif. 

M: It’s not pride! I’m just not sure we can trust him--)

Rralwarr: Yes. 

Grif: ... Yes. Thank you. 

They glance in on the prisoners and Medrull first. Medrull has stripped the dead and prisoners of their Wookiee pelts, planning to give them a proper burial later. Mij looks at them and comments “Aah, that’s how you did it. They should’ve known better than to wear their blasted Wookiee pelts.” 

Then he checks on Taveau and Talwarra. Talwarra is still unconscious, but should live. 

DM: He feels for broken bones, checks your eyes for concussion, makes sure you don’t have any untreated injuries and injects a stimulus. You come back. 

Mij: Aah, welcome back to the land of the living. Just a word of advice: you may want to lay off the rum, brother. It’ll increase your life expectancy. 

Taveau: ?? Whhhh I just met you huuh how did dyou know ?? 

(M: He’s a doctor, I think he can tell when your blood is 50% rum. 

DM: Yeah, Mij has seen alcoholics before.) 

Rralwarr leans right down to the cot and gives Taveau a massive bear hug. Let me repeat. Whom does this massive furry tank teammate give a hug to? Yes, Taveau, who was near-lethally shot half an hour before, and is still covered in bandages. 

Taveau: AAAGH! Um, hey. 

Grif: Careful! 

Taveau, who appreciated the gesture (though startling and painful), manages to give Rralwarr’s arm-fur a squeeze before he releases him. Grif, opting to not damage him more, ruffles his hair. 

Grif: It’s OK. This guy is a friend. 

Mij: Mij Galmar. You feel awake enough to explain what’s going on? Your friends told me I should talk to you. 

Taveau: Uh... 

Grif: Actually, hey, guys, if you wouldn’t mind giving me and Taveau a moment alone? We have some stuff to talk over. 

And the adults politely leave, except for the unconscious Wookiee on the bed next to Taveau, and Rralwarr, who slumps down on the floor against the supply cabinets. 

Grif: OK, here’s the thing. I think we can trust Mij, I think he can help us.

Taveau: He’s... when did he get here? How long has it been?? 

Grif: Not long, you’ve only been unconscious maybe half an hour. Less, I’d say. 

Taveau: Huh. Ok. 

Grif:  Mij wants to know why Death Watch is interested in you. But if you don’t want to tell him, I understand--

Taveau: Nah. If telling him will help us, I’ll do it. 

Taveau sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed in a sloppy attempt at standing up. Grif catches him and helps him get up without further injuring himself, and supports him as he walks to the door. 

Taveau: We won, though? 

Grif: Yeah! Oh, yeah, we won! *with immense pride* Actually, I killed two of them! 

Taveau: Yeah? Kandosii. 

Grif: Kk?? Kah, um, kendasi to you, too. 

DM: Hey, are you saying this out loud? 

Me, instantly on edge bc that’s a Things Are About to Happen DM Question: ??? yes?? 

DM: Can everyone hear you? 

Me: ...We’re right in the doorway at this point so yeah, everyone should be able to hear me. 

DM: ah :) 

Me: What? What Happens

DM: Mij hears you say this. He looks over at you quickly, then says, in Mando’a, “You speak Mando’a?” 

Taveau: lek

(DM: ??? 

Me: ....ye. * ’lek is a shortened form of elek which is yes so it’s like going ‘ye’ or ‘yeah’ but DM either couldn’t tell the difference between ‘lek’ and ‘I just muffled a burp’ or doesn’t know that*)

DM: Alright, Mij looks intensely at you for a moment, and sort of flares his nostrils as he takes a deep breath. 

Mij: Let me guess. You were just a kid, weren’t you? 

Taveau: 

Taveau, struggling against all odds (and against his earlier resolve) to not have his backstory brought up again even though it’s happening anyway, and doing an extremely bad job of feigning innocence: ....scuse me?

Mij: Death Watch could never get enough people to join their crazy scheme, so to fill up the ranks they’d take the children of loyal members. 

Taveau, still trying to pretend he’s not an open book: How do you know this? 

Mij: If you mean how do I know that’s what happened--you know the language, and you look like you’ve seen some stuff. As to how I know about it, I’ve seen it, I grew up there. It almost happened to me. But I got out. 

Taveau, with a faint touch of both bitterness and respect in his voice: Good on you. 

Mij: How’d you get out? 

Taveau: Faked my death, but obviously I didn’t do a very good job. 

Mij: They saw you with these others on Hypori. 

Taveau: Yeah. 

Mij: That explains it, then. Death Watch doesn’t want to let go once they have something, and they’ll go to a lot of effort to show that they still own you. 

Taveau, remembering how they treated (attempted) deserters in his day, just nods. They don’t want to let someone be a bad example. 

Mij switches back to Basic, addressing everyone in the room. 

Mij:  *sigh* Alright. I’ll give it to you straight. Death Watch is coming back. They have no real concern with Alderaan, or the Republic, or really anywhere outside of Mandalore for now; but they’re desperate to re-establish themselves somewhere. That fight on Hypori made them angry, but they don’t have the manpower to attack the Republic, so they’ve decided to pick on you. You’re an easier target. And once they’ve decided that someone is their enemy, they don’t forget easily. I think, if the three of you that they’re after leave this planet, they won’t bother the rest of your family, but they’re going to keep hunting you. Now, I’m no big fan of the Republic, but we’ll fare no better under the Seps, and especially not with Death Watch in power, so I’ve made it my mission to hunt them. 

Grif: Mij? 

DM: He looks up at you. 

Grif: Could you guys use a courier? 

Mij: I was hoping you’d say something like that. I’m putting together a small operation... 

(me: DOCTOR PUN) 

Mij: and I know... I know that Val would call me soft for this, and I’m probably sounding too much like Skirata, but I can’t stand it when they go after kids. I can’t promise you safety, I can’t promise you much protection, but I can promise you a way to fight back, and to learn to stand on your own feet and fight for yourself. You’ll have to leave this place, and you may never come back. It’s bas'lan shev'la, a strategic disappearance. But unless you want to go your own way, on the run from these guys for who knows how long... 

Baron Welkonna has a grave look on his face. There are tears glistening in his eyes. 

Welkonna: I never wanted this for you, son. I should never have let you leave, but this is the life you’ve started for yourself. I’ll protect you if I can, but I know that you resent having guards around you all the time. And you’ve shown that despite your impulsiveness you take care of yourself. You can stand on your own.

Gears have been turning in Taveau’s head while this is going on.  Mij doesn’t think Death Watch is interested in Grif’s family. Death Watch is only tangentially interested in Grif and Rralwarr, for their accidental association in a battle on Hypori. What Taveau is painfully aware of at the moment is that Death Watch wants him; terrifying enough if he were alone, but now his presence here is endangering this peaceful family. 

He steps forward before anyone else can speak. 

Taveau: For my part, I’ll go with you, at least as long as it takes to get out of this system. 

He turns back towards the Welkonnas and Rralwarr and hesitates. 

Taveau: I wasn’t here long, but... thank you... for accepting me into your home. 

Grif turns to Rralwarr to discuss his own options. 

Grif: right now, I want to go.It’s the best chance for keeping our family safe, and... I don't hate them anymore, but I will do what I can to fight them. If you go with me, then I’ll go, but only if you stay by my side.

H: ...I’m just trying to figure out how Rralwarr would react to this--is there some Wookiee gesture to express that Grif is family and anything else would be unthinkable? 

DM: I think a hug would suffice. 

Rralwarr sweeps Grif up into a hug of affirmation. Grif leaves the floor. Grif, upon being released, turns to Mij with a grin. 

Grif: alright, you’ve got me, and you’ve got my uncle Rralwarr here--

Rralwarr: I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT IN PUBLIC

Grif:--and one of the best pilots in the galaxy.

Taveau steps forward and slaps his hand down solidly on Grif’s shoulder. He’s the closest he’s come yet to outright grinning. 

Taveau: Grif.  ...Don’t lie so much.

Grif: ?? what? No? I was... actually telling the truth...? 

(H, laughing: Charisma check on Taveau to make him believe!!)

The conversation turns to what we’re going to do with the prisoners, and Mij offers to ‘take them off our hands’. Grif asks Mij what he’d do with them. 

“Oh, strip them, interrogate them, and depending on the day, maybe see if we can’t propel them into the nearest sun.” 

Grif tells how he convinced the last man standing to surrender (a not very typically Death Watch thing to do) and Mij just sort of does an ‘I’m not surprised’ grunt. “There’s always a few hut’uune in the ranks.” 

(Fun etymology time, the Mandalorians have such an intense dislike for the Hutts that their word for ‘coward’, aka The Worst serious insult, is derived from their name.) 

Midkrarr asks if the bodyguards may see to the prisoners themselves, or at least get some things straightened out before giving them to Mij. Mij responds without waiting for a translation. 

Mij: Far be it from me to stand in the way of Wookiee justice! Try to leave the heads attached, but I don’t really care about the arms, they just get in the way. 

Rralwarr, still very lethargic, is taken aback that Mij understands Shyriiwook, but after a moment just replies:

Rralwarr: OK. They had pelts. We have... a special procedure... for ones who take pelts. 

Mij: Would you like to borrow my scalpel? Nice bit of Mandalorian iron. 

Rralwarr passes, but Midkrarr snatches it up with a pleased look and goes off towards the bunk room. Mij calls after her 

“Leave them able to talk... please?” 

Finally, Mij takes out his comlink and makes a call to someone. 

“Jang, we’ve got some new friends. Yeah, just two kids. And a Wookiee. Yes I knew you were going to say that. Where is Kal anyway? Nah, they had it taken care of by the time I got down here, they’re not completely helpless. Six, this time. *sigh* Yes, you can have their gloves.” 

Masterpost 

[kyberled]

SEND AN FC AND I’LL MAKE A CHARACTER FOR THEM! || ACCEPTING

@cosmicnexus​ asked:​

 Faceclaim for an NPC meme: Angela Bassett?

Name: Chiia Sodi

Age: 60

Gender: Female (She/Her/Hers)

Species: Human

Orientation: Demisexual demiromantic 

Place of Birth: 13-13, Galactic City, Coruscant

Current Residence: 10-12, Galactic City, Coruscant

Occupation: Librarian, slicer/hacker-for-hire

Family: Therese Sodi (Nee Val, Mother), Koka Sodi (Father), Dala Sodi (Younger sister), Marta Sodi (Younger brother)

Romantic partner(s): Lo Derra (boyfriend); Hooper de Carne (husband, deceased)  

Likes: A good book, spiced caf, fluffy textures, animals, proper organization, watching podracing, working with tech, good slippers, a comfy chair, a private work space, blue or cyan nail polish, sour gummies, noise-cancelling headphones, challenges and things to work on, shopping or spa trips with her friends. 

Dislikes: Rain, the city air, fried food, people with poor online security, spoilers, people reading over her shoulder, high heels (they hurt her feet), people who return ‘pads late or to the wrong parts of the library, earbuds (they fall out too much for her). 

Fears: Walking alone, dianogas in the plumbing, the war coming to Coruscant, low-flying speeders, mutant rats. 

Biography: Chiia is a fairly normal person, she thinks. She’s not wealthy (she wouldn’t live in the middle levels if she was), she’s not too impoverished (again, she wouldn’t live in the middle), she doesn’t have the Force. She’s just her, and she’s happy with that. She was born in a fairly normal state of affairs. A fairly normal hospital, fairly normal med droids, and fairly normal parents. When she was two, her little sister was born in much the same normal way. When Chiia was seven, her little brother was born. It wasn’t always a perfect life - Therese’s work as a seamstress could be stressful, Koka worked late at factories, and the siblings, though they loved each other, would sometimes get in spats - it was happy. The kids were loved. The kids were safe. The kids were happy. It was enough. 

Chiia was one of those well-off enough to get an education, which she didn’t take for granted. As a mid-leveller, she wasn’t poor, but she wasn’t too far above them, either. It wasn’t hard to peer over the edge and see the ever-thickening smog. The wail of sirens from below was a near-constant. She knew how fortunate she was to live as she did. She would often meet up at friends’ houses to study, but her favourite place was the library. She’d always liked reading, and the datapads there? Free! All of them! It was amazing! She loved it. She and her friends would go there, too. The librarians were nice, and they were fine leaving the kids to their work as long as they were quiet and didn’t break anything. The kids were happy to be left alone, and didn’t want to break anything. This was one of their favourite places. Again, Chiia loved her siblings, but sometimes you need time for yourself. 

She also liked the library because it had free terminals. Anything that wasn’t on a datapad, she could search up. It really was limitless. Or, she thought it was. Then she came across something she would never enjoy: Cover-ups. Those bothered her a lot. It was a chance happening, really. She was looking into a disaster happening real-time (there are a lot of those), and then… There was nothing. Just nothing. A wall. So she went back to try and retrace her steps. She must have gone wrong somewhere, right? Mistyped a search term? Clicked the wrong link? Something must have happened. But then the page she went back to wasn’t there anymore, either. 

It wasn’t every page. That made it even more confusing for her. Why not all of them? Why only some? Somebody had to be choosing them. It wasn’t just a virus. It was intentional. Why? What were they trying to hide? And who was doing the hiding? 

It piqued her curiosity. Chiia was always a curious girl. She was also very-- Well, some people said stubborn. She said persistent. She didn’t like giving up. And - frankly - why should she? If they didn’t want her to know, they shouldn’t have been so obvious. It’s their fault. 

She studied the datapads she could find. Not on her previous topic - on slicing. It was just legitimate texts at first. Coding, better ways to navigate cyberspace, that sort of thing. She was behaving. And then she went deeper. How to break codes. How to change them. How to make them do what they wanted. How to find other peoples’ codes. How to make THOSE codes do what she wanted. It was fun. It was empowering. For someone who grew up in her area, power was rare. 

She tried not to abuse it, at first. She didn’t want to get caught. Getting caught was a good way to get in trouble, and she didn’t want any trouble. She was a kid, not stupid. But the temptation was there. And the things she could learn… That was an impossible amount of information behind countless walls. She was just going to chip them all away, one at a time. The idea that it was forbidden was even better.

She had a lot of things to practice on. Eventually, the library’s equipment didn’t suit her taste, so she started saving. Allowance, birthday money, credits she picked off of the street. Eventually, she got a job. Surprising nobody, it was at the library. It didn’t pay the best, but it paid, and let her have more access to even more information. Plus, she knew the librarian already. It was an easy interview. 

Word spread.

She doesn’t know how, but word spread. It was small, at first, as most things are. Classmates would ask her to change their grades. (She refused. … Mostly. She might have given in once or twice. She’ll deny it if you ask.) Her siblings would ask her to get them fake IDs. (That, she definitely said no to. You have to make your own, just like everyone else, and get thrown out, just like everyone else.) Some people said she’d get in trouble, and she did, eventually. It just took time. Time, and pressure.

Coruscant is cruel. It’s a massive city that will devour you whole. It doesn’t care who you are. It doesn’t care how hard you work. It doesn’t care if you have a family. It doesn’t care if you have three children who need you.

It just doesn’t care.

Neither did their landlord. 

An extortionist by trade, Tili Farnth saw his tenants as a means to an end. That end was his living on the surface levels, reclining by some expensive pool with droids puttering around to do his bidding. A great end. The best end. He was also rather impatient. He wanted credits and he wanted them now. He didn’t care what you had to do to get them to him. He just wanted them. 

So he raised the rent. And he raised it again. And again. The regulations on Coruscant were… Well, there aren't any regulations. Things just happened. And the things that happened threatened to have her family out on the streets. You can see why Chiia didn’t want that happening. So she found a few back doors, a few places to sneak in. 

She bankrupted Tili.

As you can imagine, this backfired. He found out quick. He got mad quicker. Like all slumlords, he wasn’t exactly focused on proper justice. It took a while to figure out who took his credits. The bank was working on it too. What, losing money? On their watch? Not possible. Not acceptable. They had a reputation at stake. They had clients at stake.

They had an opportunity at stake.

Maybe it was fate that intervened for her that day. Maybe it was something else. All she knew is, she probably should have died. Tili’s thugs (the ones who would still listen to him when he couldn’t pay them right away) had found her. She’d tried running, but there’s only so many places to go, and she was a teenager. Not one of the most athletic ones, either. And Tili was mad. And he wanted her gone. And then Tili and his goons got shot. 

She’d seen people get shot before.

She’d just never seen it up close. It wasn’t like the holovids or the stories. There was no slow-mo sequence. No dramatic speech. No swell of music. 

Just a shot.

A gasp.

A thud.

And Tili was dead.

It wasn’t that she was sad about it. She never liked Tili, and frankly, better him than her. It was just… He was dead. He was really, really dead. And his goons seemed primed to follow when the Banking Clan representatives showed up. And if they killed him, they’d kill her too, right?

Wrong.

She got a job offer. They wanted to know how she got into their records. They wanted to know how she navigated the accounts so well. They wanted to  know how she got all the credits out. And they wanted her to make sure nobody else could ever do what she did again. And if she did that for them and told nobody about it, they’d let her live. 

Seemed like a fair deal to her. 

It wasn’t a great paying job by any means, but she knew better than to push her luck. She got off easy. And you know what? She had fun. The Banking Clan had nigh unlimited resources, and all sorts of technology for her to play around with. Well, she couldn’t play too much - they already weren’t happy with her. But she could have a bit of fun. This is also where she met her first husband. At the time, of course, they didn’t know they were going to be married. Life is rarely that simple, especially for people like them. She was on her lunch break. Hooper was working as hired muscle for people who were looking for a loan. She was sitting on the steps to read, enjoying a nice afternoon. He’d been told to wait outside. He approached her and asked what she was reading. She was a bit irked at first, but told him; he responded by showing her the same book on his datapad. He mentioned he was on the fourteenth chapter, and promised not to spoil anything when she said she’d only just started. They spent the rest of the time they had together alternating between idle conversation and chatting, and just sitting beside each other to read. It was nice. She offered him her personal contact information, so they could discuss the book when they were both finished. He accepted, and they ended up forming a two-person book club together. Whoever finished the book first got to pick the next one, and they’d talk about what they liked and didn’t like from certain chapters or even finished books fairly regularly. They met in person with growing frequency, and the book club gradually turned into a relationship. When Chiia was finally released from service by the Banking Clan, she was sworn to secrecy on threat of death, and she agreed. (She got mixed messages, as they also implied they might hire her for jobs in the future. Whatever.) 

She got her own apartment back on Coruscant, spent time with her family and friends, and kept a relationship with Hooper. Eventually, she and Hooper moved in together. After that, they got married. They were happy. They didn’t have any kids - they didn’t want any. They had a few pets here and there over the years, and loved all of them. Chiia found her way back to the library she loved for so long, and got a job there. It was nice. It didn’t pay a lot, but she got more than enough credits from her side gig of private slicing. The library work was a labor of love.

Of course, things weren’t always great. Nothing in life is perfect. 

When Chiia was 55, Hooper died. He’d been out on a job - still muscle, even in his later years - and things went bad fast. The pilot that had been hired for the job wasn’t as good as they thought - or at least, not as good as the pilot they were up against. Their ship was destroyed in space, and Hooper and the rest of the crew went along with it. Naturally, Chiia was distraught. She loved her husband. They’d built a life together. It had been so sudden. 

It hurt. 

They weren’t young, but they weren’t old, either. They were supposed to live the rest of their years together. That didn’t happen. She took some time off from slicing, but didn’t take time off from the library. The stories were her comfort again. Filing things properly gave her an order in the chaos she felt trapped in. She eventually put herself in therapy. It kind of helped. She found a support group for widows and widowers. She made friends who understood, and put together a book club. Sometimes they’d go out and get caf together, and she introduced them to her non-support group friends. They ended up almost filling up some of the smaller caf stores when they all got together after that. It still took a while for her to heal from the loss, but at least she wasn’t alone. 

She met Lo at the support group, too. He’d lost his wife only a few months before Chiia lost Hooper. Lo was a droid mechanic, and knew a bit about coding, but would be the first to admit that Chiia could program him under the table. The two of them became friends, and after a few years, decided they were ready to try a relationship again.

It’s going well, so far. They have a museum date coming up next week, and Chiia is pretty excited for it. Wish her luck!

Quote(s): “Oh no, they’re in the mainframe! … Just kidding. Nobody actually says that.” “Can I help you find anything? Books or otherwise?” “Please change your passwords. Please.”

[jediofgrace]

I have an hour left of scoundressaturday in my time zone! So here we have a little story where Han is captured and given a truth serum. Even I was surprised by what came out of his mouth! Set in the EU. Many thanks to @jainadurron, the Grand Master of the EU for her help!

.........

"Looking for something?" a voice said from behind him. "Or someone?"

Han stood up. He'd been running, then crouching behind the canister, looking for Leia. He took a frustrated breath and slowly turned around.

"Yeah, I'm lookin' for the 'fresher. Guess you must be the garbage boy?" He collapsed as a gun whacked against his skull.

Han awoke, disoriented and confused. His memory came flooding back as the man who had captured him knelt down on the floor beside him.

"Well, good afternoon, Captain Solo. How are you feeling this fine day?"

Han stifled a moan. He tried to move his hands, testing to see if they were bound. They weren't, but they felt heavy, almost immovable. He dragged the nearly dead weight of his hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes.

"This truly is a fine day," the man continued as he stood up. "For me to capture the infamous Han Solo makes it a very fine day indeed. When my superiors learn it was I who brought you in, I'm sure a promotion will be forthcoming. Now, you would like to help me accomplish that, wouldn't you? And you'd also like to help save us both time by telling me why you're here, who's here with you, and where your ship is." He poked Han's side with his boot. "Wouldn't you?"

"Oh yeah," Han said as he tried to lift himself up to a sitting position. The man kicked him in the stomach, sending Han crashing back to the floor with a grunt.

"I'm glad you agree. I am Lieutenant Salvan, at your service. You may notice your arms and legs feel a tad heavier than normal. That is because of a special medicine we have given you to make sure you stay, shall we say, calm. No use in taking any chances on you running away from us, now is there?"

So that's why he felt like he weighed as much as a rancor. He worked again to sit up, and this time Salvan let him. He leaned against a crate, carefully looking around. They were in a large tent, the green canvas walls fluttered slightly from the wind outside. He had seen the tents earlier as he'd been scouting around. This appeared to be a temporary base for a small band of Imperial remnants. It was rumored that they were stockpiling weapons here, so he and Leia had been sent...volunteered? He could never tell, but here they were. And now here he was.

"So, Captain, am I correct in assuming you are here alone? On vacation, perhaps?"

Han looked up at him. "Yep."

"I thought so. So we shouldn't bother looking for anyone else?

"Nope." Han looked around him. There were items that could possibly be used as a weapon, but until this drug wore off he wouldn't be able to move much faster than a Hutt. He looked to see Salvan grinning at him.

"It's hard not to think of escape, isn't it? I assure you, the drug will not wear off for some time, and when it does, we have plenty more. I can be here all day, if you like. You could speed things up for us by telling me who else is here with you. Forgive me if I'm a little skeptical of your claim to be alone." Salvan grabbed a folding chair and sat in front of Han. He rested his elbows on his knees, looking down at him.

"It's just me. Lookin' for a fishin' hole."

"I see. Did you find one?"

"Nope. Just a scummy pond full of worms," Han said, pointedly.

Salvan looked at him, then gave a light chuckle. "Too bad. I hear the fishing is good around here. How long have you been here?"

"Few years. Got tired of those high and mighty rebels. Figured I'd lead a quiet life here."

"Hmm. From intelligence reports I've read, I do not believe you are telling me the truth. Are you here with your wife?"

"Nope." Han was practiced enough not to show it, but his heart clenched. He desperately hoped Leia had made it back to the Falcon. Once she figured out he wasn't coming...

"Really, Captain, you leave me no choice but to convince you that I am quite serious." Abruptly he stood up and walked around the desk. Han could hear him tapping on something for a moment, presumably a computer. In another minute, two men entered the tent.

"Captain Solo, these men are here to help you realize the serious nature of your situation. If at any time you want to have an honest and open discussion with me, let them know and we can stop this nonsense."

The men came to Han; one picking him up and holding him in a standing position, the other wrapping his fist with tape. Han grimaced.

"I do apologize for the crudeness of our little operation here. I'm afraid we don't have the high tech equipment of the larger Imperial centers. At least not yet. But until we do, we'll have to depend on good, old-fashioned elbow grease. If you have no objections?" He nodded to Han as if Han had agreed with him. "Good. Gentlemen, I leave it to you." With that, Salvan tipped his cap to Han and walked out, leaving him with his two new companions.

The first few hits were just warm up exercises. The next few started to hurt, and the many after that made Han start to wonder if he might actually be in a bit of trouble.

Han tasted blood. He tried to lick his lips and found they were swollen and cracked. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, working to loosen the stiffness.

"Captain? Would you care for some water?"

Han managed to open a swollen eye and saw shiny, black boots. His face was pressed to an earthen floor. The tent. Salvan. He groaned.

"Or maybe you'd prefer caf?"

Han kept quiet, willing the man to just disappear.

He watched as the boots came closer and with a push, one of the boots rolled him over onto his back.

"No? Pity. I think it might help your disposition. Come now, it's time to wake up. We have things to discuss. Is your ship on planet? How did you arrive without our scanners detecting you?"

"Faulty programming," Han mumbled.

"I think not. How many of your friends are with you?"

"A million."

"Captain, I can't help you unless you give me some honest answers. An Imperial transport is coming, bringing reinforcements. They will scout around and find your friends, and it may not end well for some of them. So how about you tell me now what I want to know?"

"I think I'll wait."

Salvan walked a circle around Han as he laid on the floor. Han's limbs still felt heavy, and every muscle in his body ached. Why couldn't Imps ever create drugs that numbed pain? If he could infiltrate their medical centers, that would be the first thing he would change; all drugs used by Imperials would have a pain reducer added.

"Is your pretty little wife with you? Or perhaps she's safe, and has already left the planet?"

"I don't know," Han said. "Perhaps she's got a sniper rifle on you right now and is preparing to blow your pretty little brains out."

Salvan kicked Han in the ribs. Han curled himself around his poor bruised self, silently cursing Imperial boots. Then he cursed all things Imperial, just for good measure.

"So she's close by? Come on, Solo, give me something; just a yes or no, and I'll get you some water. Deal? Is Princess Leia with you?"

Han made a show of looking around the tent. "I don't see her, do you?"

"Where's your ship?"

"What ship?"

Salvan walked to a nearby table and poured himself a glass of water. Blast if even the sound of water pouring sounded good. Han swallowed nothing and sat himself up. He hated to do it, but he had to hand it to the Imps, this drug worked really well. It was just as effective as binders in keeping him immobile. He could sit, but it felt like he was sitting under a mountain of sand. That and the fact that he was bruised and sore ensured he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. Unless Leia figured something out, that is, which she probably would.

Salvan drank his water slowly as he studied Han. Han pretended not to care as he looked straight ahead of him, quietly taking stock of his surroundings. There appeared to be only one door. He could see daylight coming through the bottom of the doorway, but it looked like it was fading.

Salvan came and sat in front of him again, swirling his cup of water.

"Every minute we waste here brings that shipment of troops closer. They'll also be bringing much more sophisticated interrogation equipment. You could save yourself a whole lot of trouble by just talking to me now."

"Listen, Sal, I'm not your trophy, and I ain't gonna be your buddy and share all of my deep, dark secrets with you. So wake me up when they get here." Han leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Fine." He dumped the rest of his water on Han's face as he got up. "Since you don't seem to feel like talking much, let's see if we can't help you out a bit."

Han didn't like the sound of that.

He wiped his face with his hand as he watched Salvan lift a needle and vial from the table. Oh boy. Sal came and knelt beside him again.

"This won't hurt a bit," Salvan said cheerily, as though to a child. "And maybe now you will be more sociable."

Han licked his lips. So this would probably be a truth serum. He really, really hated Imperials.

Salvan's friends were back. They maneuvered him into a chair, then tied him to it. Not that he could go far on his own, but at least now he wouldn't fall. One less thing to worry about, he supposed.

Salvan was circling him again. "All right, let's try something easy. What is your name?"

"Han Solo." Oh how he hated that desperate urge to speak. He'd had this drug before; a long time ago, before Leia. He hadn't given the information they'd wanted then, and he wouldn't now. But that didn't mean he would be able to keep his mouth shut.

"Good. And your wife's name?"

"Leia Organa Solo," he blurted. "Although sometimes they call her Jedi Solo. She's a Jedi, you know. She could squish your brains into a puddle of bantha slop."

"I'm sure she could." Salvan chuckled. "And your kids? You have children?"

"Yeah. And she's a princess too, so you'd better watch your mouth. She don't take no crap from anyone."

"I see. And what are the names of your children?"

"You know their blasted names. Leia and me picked them out when they were born. You have kids?" Han gave him a look of mock sympathy. "Oh. Probably not. Well, when they're born you get to name them, which is kind of a big deal. When we had the twins, we had no idea what we were doing. But we'd brought these little humans into the galaxy, so we bucked up and figured it out. Couple years later we had Anakin too. He was sure a great kid. Died in the war. I really miss him. Now his brother and sister are Jedis. They clean up garbage like you."

"Are your children here with you?"

Han shook his head, trying to keep his mind off of Salvan's questions. "Jacen looks a lot like me, some people say. Jaina is beautiful, like her mom. Anakin was a bit lighter than the other two. We named him after Leia's father, kind of a remembrance thing, you know? Like from before he went evil. It was important to Leia so I went along with it. Glad I did. We never called him anything stupid like Kin or Ani, just Anakin. Although when he was born Jaina kept calling him Napkin, we sure laughed at that. Jacen always-"

"Where is your wife?" Salvan interrupted.

Didn't that guy ever give up? "She's really beautiful. Smarter'n you and every single Imp put together. I can't believe she married me. I left her once, you know. After my friend died. I'll never do that again. Dumbest thing I ever did. She loves me, can you believe that? I never thought anyone would love me like that."

"It does defy the imagination." Salvan folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"Yeah. You should see her with a lightsaber." Han focused on him for a moment. "I'd like to see her chop your head off."

"I'll bet you would. So is she waiting for you? Back at your ship?"

"She bought me these boots." He sort of moved his heavy feet. "I think they're pretty great. She always crabs at me to change my socks more often but when I do, she complains because I leave the dirty socks on the floor by the laundry basket. I just do it to bug her because I like it when she scolds me. She never gets too upset though. Sometimes at night she sticks her cold feet on me. The galaxy is a pretty nice place when you have someone to keep warm." Was he making sense? He didn't really care, the words just poured out and as long as he didn't let anything important slip out, he'd be okay.

"So you were here, sleeping with your wife, enjoying the scenery? Or maybe you were spying on us?"

Han wanted to answer him so badly. Yes, he was spying on them! He shook his head and forced his brain into a different direction.

"The scenery ain't that great. Don't know why you guys decided to build a camp here. You shoulda gone to Mustafar, then maybe we'd leave ya alone."

"'We'? Are your rebel friends here with you? Maybe they're coming to rescue you."

Han smiled. "Leia's rescued me lots of times, even before she was a Jedi. Did you know I was frozen in carbonite one time? You were probably in diapers at the time. It was awful. But she came and got me. I rescued her a few times myself. We take care of each other. She's so pretty."

"Is she coming to rescue you this time?"

"She had to shave her head a few years ago. Even then she was pretty."

"Captain-" a buzzer went off from somewhere to Han's right. Salvan went to check it. Han watched, thinking of Leia. She had to know by now that he was missing. She'd get Luke and maybe the kids... Although they were probably kind of far away. Well, she'd figure something out. She always did.

"Yes? Oh really? How delightful! I'll be right there." Salvan returned to Han, smiling.

"Well, Captain, I might just have a little surprise for you. If you will excuse me? I need to go check on something. I'll be back, sit tight."

Han had a very bad feeling about this.

"So, Captain, how are you feeling? Comfortable?"

Han startled awake. He'd been dozing, his head hanging down in front of him. He felt like the drug was wearing off and he had a bit more in control of his thoughts.

"I've been better. How you doing?"

"Oh, I'm quite well. I think perhaps we should up your dosage a little. We don't want you getting quiet, now do we?"

Han mentally rolled his eyes. So much for it wearing off.

Salvan gave him another injection, wiggling the needle around a bit for good measure. Han didn't bother to flinch.

"There. That's a pretty high dosage. Anything you feel like telling me?"

"You really are an ugly fellow. No wonder you don't have any kids." Salvan lashed out, smacking Han on the side of his head with his fist.

"How many of your friends are here?"

"That really hurt."

"Does the Galactic Alliance know of our base here?"

"I dunno. Did you tell them about it? You should. It's not legal for you to be here."

Another smack caused Han to see stars for a minute.

"Ouch," he said. "I wish you'd stop that."

"I grow impatient." He gestured behind Han. Han heard shuffling and movement behind him as more people entered the tent.

"I'm really thirsty," Han said. The urge to speak was so great, it was almost a marvel. "How about some of that caf? Or just water. You could even throw it at my face again, I'll just open my mouth." Han stopped talking as the group of newcomers came to stand in front of him. There, her face bruised, her clothes torn and dirty, was his beautiful wife.

"Leia, you shouldn't be here," Han said, his brain not quite able to compute everything he was seeing.

Salvan grabbed a handful of Leia's hair, wrenching her head back to look up at him. "So this is the pretty wife you've been telling me about? She doesn't look very good to me. You should take better care of her."

"Get your hands-" The guard beside him whacked his head from behind. Han fought to stay conscious as he let his head hang down.

"Leia... How did you find her?" he murmured. He knew Leia wasn't very easy to capture; those Jedi senses always telling her when someone was near...

"She surrendered to us. I guess she couldn't stand to be away from you. Now, Captain Solo, will you be reasonable? I'd hate to see you put through any more discomfort." He released Leia's hair, smoothing it down her back. Han held his breath to try to keep from saying something. He hated it when people touched her.

Salvan was gentle as he moved her hair to the side, exposing the back of her neck to him. He massaged lightly, slowly wrapping his hands around her throat.

"As for the princess, well, she's so tiny, she wouldn't hold up very long if I were to let the boys here have her for awhile. You wouldn't want to see that, trust me. So how about we have some conversation?"

"Sure. I like talking." He looked at Leia. "Hey, hon. I missed you."

Salvan shoved Leia towards a guard, who caught and held her.

"Fine. If you won't answer me, maybe she will." Salvan walked to the table, giving Han an unobstructed view of Leia. She gave him a small smile.

"Hey, I missed you too."

He smiled at her through his cracked lips. "I missed you more. These guys aren't any fun and that one there stinks bad. We're never coming back to this planet again."

"Sounds good."

"Enough." Salvan gestured to the guards, who turned Leia towards him. He grabbed her shirt sleeve at the elbow and jerked, ripping it from the seam at her shoulder.

"Hey!" Han yelled. Salvan ignored him and quickly injected two vials into her arm.

"We don't want to take any chances on your Jedi woman using her powers on us, now do we? So now you both have matching chemicals coursing through your veins. Isn't that sweet? So, let's talk. Who else is with you here on the planet?"

When Leia only shrugged, he backhanded her, knocking her to the floor. Her hands were bound, so she hit the ground hard.

"Hey! Don't do that! She doesn't like it!" Han thought maybe he sounded a little childish, but blast it all, she didn't like it!

Salvan walked to Han.

"Come now, Captain, this is your woman!" He gestured to Leia. "Where is your honor, man? A soldier like yourself, choosing to let his wife suffer?"

"Go to hell." There. That wasn't childish.

Salvan's fist made contact with Han's jaw with a loud crack.

"Where is your ship?"

"Dunno. But I know something else." Oops. Maybe he shouldn't have said that.

"Oh? Like what?"

Han searched his brain desperately for something to say. What he wanted to say was that Leia knew how to keep drugs from affecting her. Those Jedi skills sure came in handy sometimes.

Salvan leaned down, putting his face right in front of Han's. "What do you know, Captain?"

"I know you're a dead man."

"Why's that?"

"Scum like you never live very long." Smack! Han was sure tired of getting whacked in the head. But he also wanted to keep Sal's attention on himself and off of Leia.

Han looked down at Leia. Her lip was bleeding, she was scratched and a large bruise was forming on her forehead, but she held his eyes. Wait, he knew that look. She had a plan.

"Wanna know what else I know? Your tiny little outpost here ain't even big enough to bother with real buildings. If you got blown off the map, the rest of the Imps wouldn't even blink."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I think so. I also think you're bluffing and there aren't any reinforcements coming. My head really hurts. But know what else? I helped take down your Empire a while back. You're nothing but a remnant. You'll never be anything more. You've got all these little friends who you think make you strong." Han snorted, which hurt, but he ignored it. "You're nothin' but an insignificant pawn."

Salvan nodded silently at Han as he backed away from him. He gestured to the guards, who brought Leia upright again. Han tried not to blanch. So much for keeping his attention.

"How about you, Princess? What do you know?"

"Same as Han."

"Hmm. You're not very talkative. Do you like seeing your husband hurt? It can get a whole lot worse, you know."

She looked to Han like she was going to faint.

"That's odd," he said before he thought better of it. Leia shouldn't be fainting, unless maybe she was trying to distract...

"What's odd?" Sal turned to him. Leia used that moment to lash out with her legs. In a split second she was free of the guards. The binders on her wrists clanked to the floor and her leg went in a wide arc around her, clobbering all three in one lightning fast spin.

"I love it when you do that," Han almost slurred. She quickly grabbed the fallen men's guns. Adjusting one of the weapons, she fired three times, stunning them. She came to Han and quickly worked the knots in the rope securing him to the chair.

"I really love you," he said as she helped him stand.

"I know you do," she replied. He leaned heavily on her, his legs still felt like wooden logs attached to his body.

"I don't know if I can walk. But I like holding onto you."

"Hmm." She looked around. "Hold on, sit here for a sec." She carefully set him down again.

"Hey, I don't wanna sit anymore. I wanna go. Let's go!"

"I know, but I can't carry you, so hold on." She kissed him gently on the lips before walking around the desk.

"I wanna kiss you more." He really had less and less control over what came out of his mouth. Good thing the Imps were out of commission.

She laughed. "Later, we need to move." She brought a chair with wheels and helped him get into it. It was a good thing he was drugged, because he was pretty sure in any other circumstance he would not like being pushed around like this. But right now he didn't seem to mind at all. He watched as she tied him back up.

"Why you tying me up again?"

"So you don't fall."

"Oh. Good idea."

"All right. Do you feel secure enough?"

"I dunno. I'm thirsty."

"I know. We'll get you fixed up soon. Let's get out of here first." She put a gun in his lap, then suddenly drew up her own and fired at the doorway. A man Han hadn't seen before dropped to the ground.

"Wow! That was a close one," he said. She went and dragged the body forward, clearing the path for them to roll out the door.

"He must be heavy. Sorry I can't help but they drugged me. Imperials have the worst drugs and their needles are huge. I hate them."

"Me too," she said as she returned to Han and proceeded to wheel him out the door. The sun had set long ago. The only light came from the few lamps that hung on the tents.

"Where is everybody?"

"Sleeping, I think. We need to be quiet so we don't wake them." She pushed Han along a path, heading for the surrounding forest.

"This is kinda bumpy."

"Shhh, just hold on. We'll get to a safe place and hole up until you feel better. I can't push you all the way to the Falcon."

"Well, okay. My head hurts. You're really dirty. Am I that dirty?"

"Yes." She stopped and blasted another Imp. He noticed she'd put her blaster on silent mode.

"You're so clever. Why's your hair so messy?"

"I was crawling through the bushes trying to figure out where you were. Then I had to somehow surrender so they'd take me to you. I'll tell you about it later. Now shh, we don't want anyone to hear us."

"I'll try but I really want to talk. I didn't like it when he touched your hair. Made me so mad. Whoa! Almost dropped me there."

"Shhh!"

"Oh yeah. Shhh. Right." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I was a little worried earlier. Thought I mighta finally run out of luck. I was mostly sad 'cause I didn't want to leave you. My eyes are feeling heavy. Is that normal? You're really good at rescuing me. As long as we keep rescuing each other, we could just go on forever."

"Yeah, we could. But if you don't shut up they're going to hear us." She steered him around a tree and stopped.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I'm trying to remember which way to go. Shh."

"I'll be quiet. It's just hard because they gave me a drug to make me talk. Did I tell you my plan? I'm gonna infiltrate their...uh, the wherever-they-make-drugs place, and put pain-killers in everything they make. Isn't that a good idea?"

"Han."

"What?"

"Shhhh!"

[reject-princess97]

NCIS Imagine

Requested by @sexy-bookworm-fangirl  

“I would like to request some NCIS. Reader is basically like a small puff ball, and the entire team is SUPER PROTECTIVE (Ziva, Gibbs, McGee, Abby, Ducky, and Tony) and this random suspect disrespects her, and they just unleash their fury at her. And the Reader is just standing there, smiling and wondering when they will be finished destroying this poor women's mental functions”.

(I tweaked it a little, the suspect who disrespects the reader is guy and each member takes it in turns to 'mess' with him and reader is dating Tim McGee)

I know it's shorter than usual sorry.

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

"Look Y/N I'm just saying, If you were ever to pick somebody to fight with you, who would you want on your team, me or McGeek." Tony asked and he threw another paper ball at Tim who was trying his best to ignore him and work on the task Gibbs had given him.

"And I'm just saying Ziva, no offence to my Timmy but he is more of a tech guy."

"That's true." Tim agreed, keeping his attention on the computer screen in front of him. I smiled over at him and turned my attention to tony and watched as he threw more paper balls at Tim. There was a considerable age difference between both Tony and I. I suppose that's why he treats me like a little sister, but then again so do all the team, except Timmy but it would be strange if your significant other treated you like a sister. Again there was a slight age gap between Tim and I but nobody ever really cared.

I shook my head as a piece of paper hit my head. I looked at Tony and frowned as another came towards me, I quickly lent to the side successfully dodging the paper ball.

"And what about me?" Tony asked turning his paper missiles back to Tim. I shrugged and sighed.

"Lets see, you're annoying, always late, you're big headed and you always have your foot in your mouth and well, Ziva is a bad ass babe who can take any of you losers out with on shot." I shrugged as I waked over and sat by Ziva's Desk and gave her a high five.

"She's right again." Tim agreed again, not lifting his head to look at anyone once again, keeping his attention on the screen as he typed at the keyboard. Tony grunted and shook his head.

"Quiet probie and Ziva why can she call you babe but when I do I get a whole world of pain." Tony asked Ziva, pointing at me. she only smiled at Tony and shrugged.

"It's not so offensive if a woman says it as it is usually implied as a compliment." she laughed.

Just then the elevator doors opened and in walked Gibbs, pushing a suspect in front of him. I smirked at Gibbs who shook his head as the guy just tried to break the restraints he was in.

"Sam Marks, the owner of the club next to the ally way where Mary Jones was found. Tony, with me." Gibbs instructed but apparently Sam wanted to make a request.

"I want that one there, let her come and play." Sam smiled nodding towards Ziva.

"I don't thinks so creep." Ziva said, sounding extra bored with the guy. I smiled at her and shook my head as I moved off of her desk and walked towards tony's Desk.

That was when he turned his attention to me. "What about to short stuff, you wanna know what a real man feels like? And after that you can clean my house and bring beer" He asked, Gibbs pulled the guys arm tighter and he screamed out in pain. "Ahhh what the Fuck, I only asked the girl if she was up for a date, not like I asked the bitch for a fucking lap dance."

Suddenly the whole office went silent, everyone just starred at the guy who had dared disrespect the teams 'Baby sister'. I wasn't one to enjoy drama unless it involve Tony and Ziva but I couldn't help but hope this guy is going to get what's coming to him.

Gibbs smiled at Ziva and shrugged, "Ziva, can you take Mr Marks to the interrogation room, and be care full, the floor needs a bit of work, make sure you don't fall and hurt you self." Gibbs told her, Ziva stood and nodded, and grabbed the guy by the arm and leading him down the hall where the interrogation rooms were. Everyone soon got back to work until we heard a loud scream coming from the direction Ziva and Sam Marks had gone.

Gibbs left and soon enough we got back to work, or at least Tim and I did, Tony had followed Gibbs as requested and Ziva had stayed with them. I sat at my desk picked up my red ball, "Jones heads up." I called to an agent on the other side of the room and threw the ball, which he caught with ease.

"Parker." Jones shouted throwing the ball to agent ball and he threw it to Carlson and she threw it to Tim who threw it to me. We kind of went like this for a while until I caught it and I spotted the director making his way down the stairs.

"Director Vance." I called throwing the ball. He caught it and raised an eyebrow and he tossed it to Tim. "Mcgee" He said before he continued his journey down the stairs and stopped by my desk.

"I see you're still 'Testing the agents reflexes' around the office" he smiled at me.

"You know it sir, an agent with crappy reflexes are useless on the field sir." I shrugged as the ball was tossed to me and caught it without even looking at it. "See, I have great reflexes." I grinned, at which point Gibbs came into the room, the suspect walking behind, a very nasty looking red mark on his cheek.

"Wow, what happened to you?" Tim asked him. He looked like he was about to speak but Ziva answered for him.

"The floor by the interrogation rooms need a bit of work, very uneven." She shrugged. I nodded at her and raised my eye brows deciding to play along.

"I know, it was just yesterday I saw someone take a fall. Landed on his back not in week for at least to weeks. Quite tragic really." I smiled at her and the laughed as Sam Marks grunted as he touched his face.

"Oh you think this is funny bitch, you should..." Mr Marks began be before he could say anything Abby came rushing in with a cup of coffee and Caf-Pow in her hands,

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs. " She rushed as she ran towards us. Then she did the unthinkable, she tripped and spilled the coffee and Caf-pow all over the man who just couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Ahhhh Jesus Christ, what the hell." He yelled. I stood up and took his shirt off quick.

"Wow, today is really not your day." I smiled at him. He just sent me a glare before walking off trying to put his shirt on.

"You know that guy needs to learn how to speak to women properly." Tony shook his head.

"Yeah, and maybe you could join him." Ziva mumbled as she sat down.

"That will teach him, nobody calls our baby a bitch and gets away with it." Abby smiled, pulling me into a hug. I looked at her and cocked my head to the side in confusion. "Tim told me what had happened." She told me. I smiled over at Tim who winked at me, making me laugh.

"Well, Thank god he's gone." I shrugged.

"Yeah I wouldn't be so sure. Ducky sent Jimmy down and slashed the guys tires," Abby told me.

"And he won't be able to get in to his phone for a while as I changed the pass word on his lock screen from here." Tim laughed as he picked up the ball and threw it at Tony, whole fumbled to catch it and dropped it.

"Wow, your reflexes suck." I told him he just threw the ball at me and I caught it with ease. I smiled at him and winked as I threw it to Ziva who did the same.

"Tony, don't throw things at Y/N" Gibbs shouted and he passed Tony and hit the back of his head making us all laugh.

"One of these day agent Y/L/N, you won't have you little bodyguards to protect you. and on that day, I will bring you a whole new level of pain and embarrassment." Tony warned me, once Gibbs was out of earshot.

I smiled and stood from my desk and slowly walked over to Tony who gulped at me when he saw Ziva, Abby and Tim doing the same. I leaned in real close to his face and glared at him, hard.

"Bring it." I whispered, before turning around and smiled at the other who laughed as I skipped childishly to my desk, like an innocent little girl.

"Why must you guys always take that little sociopaths side. I've known you all longer that her." I heard Tony mumble to the rest of the team.

"She's my best friend." Abby answered as she came and sat on my desk, taking a piece of candy from my candy jar that I kept on my desk.

"I'm in love with the girl." Timmy shrugged as he want back to his desk opposite mine. I shot him a smile and laughed.

"I love you Tim McGee." I told him, earning a wink from him.

"I just like her more." Ziva answered sitting at her own desk, smiling over at me, I simply just smiled back.

 "Besides, she might be small, but the girl is a bad-ass babe and would kick our asses if we ever crossed her." She laughed as she threw my ball back to me which I caught with ease and I set it on my table.

X