#selective!cody

[phereshift]

my (and my friends) emotional support plushie pile...

[elthadriel]

I just think Star Wars would be better if Cody and Rex were allowed to spoon on screen.

[ominouspuff]

Hello! Can I know more about the "Old Friend" wip, please? 🥺

You may indeed friend. Buckle up for 100% post-war Old!Rex and Cody shenanigans, VERY WIP.

This one isn’t set in any AU in particular, it’s just wholesome happy-ending tooth-rotting popcorn fluff. The idea is that Rex and Cody meet up and throw mud at each other on a beach, away from everything and anything else, before rejoining The Group of Very Alive Vod’e somewhere where they rebuild, create, and live.

[cxncordia]

I made some pics of my characters through AI and it makes me so mad that none of you liked them.

It's almost making me so mad that I don't want to share with you the other picture I made of Alden but can't post here because puritanism.

[rocksanddeadflowers]

I keep thinking how cool it would be so have one of those song fan animations to The Mechanisms but not, like, animating their music - even tho that'd be just as awesome - just a really good intense song/piece of score where the animation just jumps between all the stories told by the mechs. Every story, small or large, as they all matter. And those flashes and jumps will be intersected with moments of the mech's personal experiences until finally the song closes with everyone's ends- and so to the end of The Mechanisms

[smbhax]

Final Fight - from Capcom Beat ‘Em Up Bundle (PS4)

character select

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

the urge to make a multi-muse LL rp blog even though i will probably not do much with it and have mostly sworn off tumblr rp

[whovian223]

New to Me - January 2024

New to Me #boardgames - January 2024 @thing12games @white_goblin @_dailymagic_ @BoardAndDice @Quinedgames @FarOffGames @Zmangames_ @Funforge @Helvetiq @pegasusspiele

It’s the first month of the year! And it’s also almost the end of February. Yes, it took so much energy to get my Top 50 games played of all time done, along with getting sick recently, that we’re into the last week of February and I still haven’t talked about the “new to me” games that I played in January! I know, right? With OrcaCon in January, I knew that this would be a long post. I did…

[starlonging]

I think the most endearing thing about Jean is that he just cares. So fucking much. Not to say that Neil doesn't but Neil had to learn to care and I think it's widely accepted that he cares about a select few people and cares about them fiercely; to the point of kill or be killed.

Jean though? He cares for almost everyone regardless of what they have done to him. He cared for Zane, the man who betrayed him in the most horrifying way for a number, for something Jean had no control over. He cared enough to save his life. He cared for Lucas who brought Jean's abuser right to his gate where he had believed himself to be safe. Not once did he lash out at him because he understood that his actions came from a desperation to know his brother again, the ache of having him near again but not having him at all. He cared for Cody, someone he doesn't even really know; cared enough to ensure they were safe and not being forced into something.

After being beaten down every day, holding on to life out of sheer desperation and perhaps a promise made to a once? friend, Jean still hasn't had his ability to care beaten out of him and it's such a beautiful miracle. He's a little like Andrew in this I think, in that he pretends so desperately to not care under the guise of barbed words and cold shoulders because that's a weakness, a chink in his already dented armour that the monsters can and will exploit with glee. He knows that yet he can't choke that tenderness out of himself.

[fazcinatingblog]

Grrr they should've rigged it so Libba won but I'm glad we got this gay af photo of the two brothers

[twinterrors29]

during the clone wars, the 212th found themselves staying for a day or two on a planet who they'd saved

despite the language barrier, the citizens managed to communicate that they'd like to build a monument to the Jedi who saved them, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, and got the Jedi and his Commander's permission before they were abruptly called away to the next battle

however, they never actually asked which of the men they talked to was the Jedi, and which the Commander, and since they didn't speak Basic (or any other language common off their own planet), weren't able to fact check their model

and of course, since Marshall Commander Cody was the one carrying his Jedi's lightsaber on his hip nearly the entire visit, they picked up a skewed impression of which of the pair was the General

due to the hardship of the war and the years following it, it takes the people years to build their intended statue, long enough for the event to be separated in the minds of any Imperial watchers, and since all signage and discussion took place in the local language, no one picked up on the fact that this monument was intended dedicated to the Jedi

miraculously, this saved it from the Imperial purge of any and all remnants of the Jedi

after all, to an outside observer, the statue depicted a clone, not a Jedi, and only a very select handful would have recognized the significance of the strange cylinder hanging from the statue's belt

decades later, while Luke Skywalker desperately searched for any remnants of the Jedi's legacy, he found a mention of a remote planet that Ben had visited during the Clone Wars in the man's journals, which included the addendum that the citizens had informed him that they intended to construct a monument to him, but that he never got to actually see it

Luke, excited for this chance to learn about this period of his people's history, rushed to borrow Threepio for the trip and raced off across the galaxy in search of this monument

when Threepio pointed him to the statue in question though, Luke was terribly confused

who was this man? his face seemed strangely familiar, but he'd think he'd remember meeting someone with such a memorable scar on their face! and that cylinder on his belt did look like what he remembered of Ben's lightsaber...

so Luke called for Ben for an explanation, only for the man to take one look at the statue and start laughing his ass off before disappearing, saying only that he needed to go tell someone about this

[jedi-hawkins]

Flower Sniping

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

Written for an event with

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

@nahoney22 - Fox, Tech

@totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

@dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

@l-lend - Wolffe

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Chosen Flower: Lilies, Forever Lily

Word count: 8.1k (don't look at me like that)

Warnings: Brief mentions of war struggles and death, suggestive fluff, some swearing, reader has hair, frienemies (briefly) to friends (idiots) to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, Crosshair is somewhat bad at expressing emotions

Beta-read by @photogirl894

"So, why are you putting me on babysitting duty, Argus?" You grumble, rolling your fingers over a knot in your shoulder. 

"You're one of my best agents, Lieutenant, and this is important. I need your eyes on it." Your commandant says plainly, glancing over a few things on the holotable in front of you. 

You cock an eyebrow. "Seriously? The war has been going on for a year and a half. What's so important that the Republic is taking an interest in Scarif now?" 

Argus rolls his eyes. "Look. I didn't ask. It's some sort of deal that the Prime Minister struck. In exchange for food and medical supplies, he's letting a single squad come and scout Western Sector 14." 

"You've got to be kidding me." You scoff. "Sector 14? There's nothing out there, I would know, it's where I spent most my childhood." 

"Another reason why you're the perfect person for the job." Argus says with a smirk. "You know as well as I do, Scarif has been struggling. The trade routes rarely reach all the way out here to us. If the Republic wants to send some supplies our way for showing a few tourists around, why not?" 

You fold your arms across your chest. "How can I argue with something as logical as that?" 

Argus lets out a chuckle. "Then get ready to play nice, they'll be here soon." 

"When do I ever not play nice?" You tease back. "How long are they staying?" 

"Six weeks." 

A laugh escapes your lips. "The Republic better be sending the good stuff, then." 

"They're some elite team, Squad 99, I think. I've been told they're one of the best." Argus retorts.

Smiling, you roll your eyes. "That's not what I meant. If they don't have a bottle of Corelian whiskey, this won't be worth it."

Argus just shakes his head at you and exits the command center. "Outside. Ten minutes."

The squad's ship touches down gently and you adjust your rifle on your shoulder slightly, sinking your weight into one hip. As much of a front as you put up for Argus, you really didn't mind this assignment. It was pretty cut and dry; serve as an escort for Squad 99 while they sniff around the western sector for a few weeks. It would give you a break from the frequent relief missions you were usually running. 

Scarif hadn't seen any true action from the war so far, but the effects still reached the outer rim. Argus was right, the steady trade that once flowed from the core worlds had weakened to a trickle and now many of Scarif's provinces were riddled with conflict over the little resources the planet had left. That meant you were more often out running supplies, assisting in makeshift medical camps, or dissolving scuffles than anything else. 

Your interest in this squad increases as you realize their ship is a heavily-modified Omicron-Class attack shuttle. The ramp lowers and four men stride down, coming to a stop in front of Argus. The man in front removes his helmet, revealing a mess of long dark hair pulled back by a bandana. He holds his hand out to Argus. "Commandant, I presume?" 

Argus takes the man's hand. "Yes sir. Welcome to Scarif." Your commander turns and waves his spare hand to you. "This is my First Lieutenant, and the one who will be hosting you on your mission." 

"Sir." The soldier acknowledges you with a curt nod. "I'm Sergeant Hunter, Galactic Army of the Republic." He looks to the man on his right, who removes his helmet to reveal striking silver hair. "This is Crosshair, our sharpshooting specialist and my right hand." 

The Sergeant turns to his left, "This is Tech, engineering and data analytics." The soldier with goggles barely glances up when his sergeant claps a hand to his shoulder. "And Wrecker, weapons and demolitions." Hunter finishes, jerking a thumb behind him to the soldier towering over his comrades. 

"Right. Well, good to meet you all. The command center is right this way" Argus says, turning to lead the group deeper into the yard. 

"So, Lieutenant. How are the military operations going here? The Prime Minister easy to work with?" Sergeant Hunter asks you in a husky voice. 

"Hm," You have to stifle a chuckle. "I wouldn't really call us a military, Sergeant. We operate as a Coalition dedicated to the service of Scarif's people. The Prime Minister has his own division of special forces for ‘keeping order.’ We work with him, not for him." 

The soldier in goggles, Tech, takes a few quick steps forward to get level with your shoulder. "You use military ranks, do you not?" 

Argus steps aside to let you lead the group into the Command Center. "Mainly for ease of identifying our hierarchy of command." 

You gesture for the soldiers to circle the main holotable. "Argus is our main point of coordination and connection to the Prime Minister-"

"And the Lieutenant here is my first pair of boots on the ground." Argus says proudly. "You boys are in good hands."

A fond smile crosses your face at Argus' praise as you flip the holotable on, but you could swear the silver-haired sniper muttered something under his breath. Straightening up, a red pin highlights the command yard. 

"Alright. We're here." You say, pointing before motioning for the map to rotate and zoom. "Western Sector 14, where you all have requested to scout, is here. The base camp will be a few hours’ ride."

"We can't just fly in?" Tech asks pointedly.

"If you want to jump out of the ship and drop in with chutes, sure.” you say, shaking your head. “The jungle is too dense to make a landing with anything bigger than a one-man fighter anywhere near where you want to be." 

Sergeant Hunter glances at his men. "Alright then. Thank you, Commandant." He says pointedly at Argus. "The first wave of supply ships will come in tomorrow." 

"Fantastic, thank you." Argus replies. He moves to lead the group out the door and back out into the yard, but falters when he notices the squad's sharpshooter, Crosshair, sizing you up. "Is there a problem?" Argus asks, tentatively.

The soldier smirks, swishing a toothpick between his lips. "I just don't want to have to pull a civvy out of danger. We were told this planet was hostile." 

Argus' brow furrows. "I already told you, the Lieutenant is my best agent, and you'll respect them as such-" 

"No, Argus, it's fine." You cut him off, keeping eye contact with Crosshair. "If the soldier doesn't trust me, he doesn't trust me and nothing you say will change that." You take a few steps around the table to stand in front of the sniper. "By definition, yes, the planet is hostile, but they're bandits, raiders; people that have been driven to desperation. I can assure you, soldier, I've had my fair share of run-ins with them and I'm just fine." A smirk spreads across Crosshair's face and you narrow your eyes. "What?" 

"You called me 'soldier,'" he responds. 

You tilt your head to the side. "That's not what you are? Soldiers of the Galactic Army of the Republic?" 

His comrade with the goggles, Tech steps forward. "Technically, you are correct, but not many refer to us as such." 

"Well, what do they call you?" You ask, curiously. 

Wrecker, the tallest soldier is the one who answers this time. "Eh... Most people just call us 'clone.'"

You run your eyes back over the squad, each of them so different from the others. "You're- you're clones?" 

"You know we're GAR, but you don't know what we are?" Crosshair remarks.

"I didn't want to assume, the GAR does have a few divisions of enlisted nat-borns." You say simply with a shrug. "It’s not like you’re carbon copies of each other. Besides, it doesn’t matter how you came into this galaxy, you’re men, soldiers first before anything else." 

With that, you step past the sniper and back out into the yard. 

"We're packed and ready to go, Sergeant,'' you say to Hunter, gesturing to the group of gorsets standing tied nearby. 

Tech adjusts his goggles. "We're using equine species?" 

You shrug again, moving over to yours and stroking its face. "Only the rich can afford speeders out here. Plus, who can say no to a friend. Get your stuff loaded on the spare cart and we can head out."

Hunter leads his brothers back over to their ship and before you know it, they have their supplies all packed up. 

Argus grasps your forearm just before you mount up. “Be careful, okay?” 

You give him a reassuring smile, “You worry too much, Argus. My job here is easy. I’ll see you in a few weeks.” 

With that you slip your foot into your saddle’s stirrup and throw your leg over your gorset’s back. With a click of your tongue, it moves to the front, Hunter’s following closely behind. 

The first part of the ride goes pretty smoothly. You make small talk with the soldiers, or three of them, at least. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker regale you with stories of their life and training as soldiers of the Republic and in return, you tell them your story as a nat-born. 

About an hour in, you come to a stop at a stream and let your mounts rest. You watch intently as the four brothers, take in their surroundings. You’ve always liked Scarif. You’d certainly seen a few other planets in your line of work, but Scarif and its dense forests always meant home. Crosshair settles on a fallen log while Hunter checks over their gear on the carts and Wrecker begins making friends with the gorsets. Tech, however, is wandering around with his face buried in his datapad. 

“Find anything interesting?” You say, approaching him. 

He looks up at you, his wide inquisitive brown eyes filled with excitement. “All the flora on this planet is fascinating. So many native species are unique to this biome. Of course, I researched them before our arrival, but to get to document them personally is a wonderful opportunity.” 

You smile at his curiosity. The clones’ homeworld, Kamino, probably left much to be desired. “Those ones are my favorite,” you say, motioning your chin towards some striking burgundy-orange blooms nestled in the undergrowth. 

“Ah yes,” Tech remarks. “Liliaceae Lilium Asiata. A fairly ordinary species though, not that remarkable.” 

You smile. “Their common name here is the ‘forever lily’ and while they’re not a rare species, they are special.”

“What makes them so special?” Wrecker asks loudly. 

“Here on Scarif, they’re often given as a sign of admiration or partnership. They bloom in early summer and also represent new beginnings. My father actually gifted my mother one when he asked her to dinner for the first time.” 

“That’s…actually quite romantic,” Tech replies. 

“And obviously it went well,” Hunter adds. 

A laugh escapes your lips. “Oh no, the date apparently went horribly wrong. My father made a complete fool of himself and accidentally tripped, knocking my mother into the fountain in the center of the village. There were probably thirty witnesses to the whole thing. My father’s family never let him live it down. When he asked my mother for a second chance, he brought two lilies. For their third date, he brought three. By the time they got married, he decorated the entire gathering hall with them.”

Crosshair hops up off his perch. “So why are you out here and not with them picking flowers, sweetheart?” He jeers. 

You cock an eyebrow at him. “They’re dead.” 

Crosshair stiffens at your response, but doesn’t retort. His brothers look at you with wide eyes. 

“Bandit raid,” you say plainly. “I was seventeen. Took less than a day for our village to be cleared out. Those who tried to hide food or resist were laid out in the street. A number of us survived and we made our way to the capital for refuge. That’s where I met Argus, and he gave me a chance to do more with my life.” 

Silence settles among you, the brothers unsure of what to say. 

You clear your throat, breaking their stupor. “Ready to move out?”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go.” Hunter says, jerking his head at his brothers.

As you swing your leg over and settle into your saddle, Hunter catches your eye. “The color. I like it.” 

A soft smile crosses your face. “Thanks. I do too.” 

Once again, you take the lead, but this time your group travels in silence. The next couple hours are uneventful. Occasionally, Tech or Wrecker would point something out and you’d give a few words on it. A couple times, Hunter called for the group to stop, and you reassured him whatever noise he heard was probably just a kybuck. ‘Bandits haven’t been spotted in this sector for years.’

As you round a bend in the trail, your mount slows out of instinct. You can hear Tech mutter under his breath when the old buildings make their appearance. 

“Fascinating… Did you know this was here?” he asks. 

You glance around at the familiar ruins of your past life. “This used to be my home.” 

You pull your mount to a halt outside the largest building. “And it will be our base camp for the duration of your stay here.” 

“Do you come back often?” Wrecker asks hesitantly.

“Mm-hmm,” you answer as you dismount. “Once every few moons. It’s quite peaceful out here.” 

Crosshair’s brow furrows. According to your story, you all are currently standing at the center of the greatest tragedy of your life. He’s drawn to ask about your response, but his twin beats him to it. 

“You said raiders destroyed your village, yet you continue to return. That’s very brave.”

You smile at Tech’s words, pulling your bags off your gorset. “I wouldn’t say brave. It took me a while to be able to come back, but look at this place,” you say, gesturing to the buildings overgrown with flora. “You can’t even see the scars of the raid any more. No people, no conflict, no pain. With a little bit of time, nature came back and healed, same as I did.”  

Your response hits Crosshair in a peculiar way, but if you had asked him to describe it, he wouldn’t have had the words. Instead, he moves over beside you and gently takes a few bags from your shoulders before moving inside. 

The next few weeks pass with little fuss. The boys tend to leave at 0700 to go about their scouting missions and return around 1800 for dinner. Every few days, you’ll go along to lead them to a new part of the sector or provide information on the area. Most days you’re left to your own devices. You spent your first few free days setting a trap line along you r well-known foraging routes. Hunter had protested your hunting and gathering. He tried to explain they had brought enough GAR rations for everyone, but you were happy enough to prepare warm meals for the team. 

It didn’t take them long to crumble to your mouth-watering camp cooking, leaving the rations to be quick dinner solutions after long days. Hunter offered his talents once or twice to help you get a nice score, or Wrecker would help haul firewood back to camp. Tech even provided you with some new recipes you fused with Scarif-style dishes. 

Hunter took quickly to you, as did Tech and Wrecker, but the fourth member of the team always kept his distance. Any words exchanged between the two of you were more often than not snarky comments. Hunter would chastise him for it, tell him to stow the attitude, but you knew Crosshair didn’t mean it. And it’s not like you didn’t dish it back.

On this particular day, you were on your own. Crosshair had been particularly grouchy the last couple rotations, so Hunter had benched him for the day. Crosshair’s excuse had been a migraine, so you left him sleeping at base camp with a blanket gently draped over him and a canteen of water within reach when you started out on your own hike. 

It doesn’t take long to reach your shooting range. Your sniper’s roost is up on the crest of a hill that looks over a small hollow. Wooden targets are scattered from the undergrowth up into the branches of the dense forest around you. 

After taking a few practice shots in a crouched position, you lower yourself down onto your stomach. Just as you shift your weight onto your side to pull an extra mag out of your belt pocket, something catches your ear. A twig snapping, and it was from something much bigger than a kybuck. 

You freeze, waiting. After a couple seconds, you start creeping your hand down your thigh and gently grasp one of the throwing knives strapped there. The wind changes and something hits your nose, a scent - the camp soap. Smirking, you roll back onto your stomach like normal, keeping the knife tucked underneath you. You act like you're checking over your rifle, still intently listening. A couple seconds more and another twig snaps. Fast as lightning you roll over and send the knife flying. It buries itself into a tree - right next to his head. 

“Are you karking crazy?!” 

You sit up, a cheeky smile on your face. “That’s what you get, trying to sneak up on me, soldier.” 

He rolls his eyes. “You did pretty good, sweetheart, but Hunter would’ve noticed sooner.” 

“Hunter has been engineered with enhanced senses, that’s cheating,” you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off yourself. “Good to see you’re feeling better.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “I would’ve noticed sooner.” 

You smirk. “You are also enhanced, that’s still cheating. When do you think I noticed?” 

“Right before you threw the knife, when I snapped that twig on purpose,” he says, crossing his arms. “They’re stashed in your chestplate, you acted on instinct.”

“Wrong. I heard you when you stepped on that first twig, but I knew it was you when I smelled the camp soap. Very distinct,” you say with a wink. 

Crosshair gives you a look, maybe one of awe, but he glosses over the moment, looking out onto the shooting range. “What is this place?” 

“A shooting range. Never seen one of those, Crosshair?” You tease back, bending down to pick up your rifle.. 

He scoffs. 

“My father built it and taught me to shoot here,” you explain. “Part of the reason why I come back every so often. Here the rest of the world just melts away.” 

Crosshair steps closer to the crest of the hill. “Where are the targets?” 

Gently, you heft your rifle up off the ground and hold it out to him. “Have a look.” 

He hesitates. “Oh no, I-” Crosshair knows a sniper’s rifle is sacred. In the similar way as the Jedi and their lightsabers. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I trust you.”

Crosshair’s eyes stay latched to yours as he gingerly lets you place your rifle in his waiting hands. “Not as fancy as your firepuncher, but I've made a few modifications,” you say proudly. 

Crosshair turns your weapon over in his hands with a sense of reverence before taking his stance. His form is perfect, though that’s no surprise. Hunter and the others had told you all about their enhancements. You watch as Crosshair sweeps the scope over the range, taking inventory of the targets camouflaged in the greenery. One particular mark catches his eye. 

“That one down there, how do you get to it?” He asks, pointing to one suspended in a tree and swaying gently in the wind.

You smile, that target in particular is placed at an odd angle relative to the sniper’s nest. “Take the shot and you’ll see.” 

The sniper braces in his standing position and lets a blaster bolt fly. He nearly growls in frustration when the bolt barely hits the edge of the target. “What the-”

“Good shot,” you say, impressed. 

“That’s not the center.” Crosshair sneers, lowering your rifle.

“You still hit it. I don’t think anyone else could have made it at that angle,” you reply. 

“You show me then if you’re so good, sweetheart.” 

Paying no mind to his snappy remark, you take your weapon back from him and lower into your crouched position. You center your sights on the target in question and wait a moment for it to stop bouncing as much. Once you’ve got its steady bouncing rhythm down, you move to focus on a shiny chunk of quartz sticking out of the hillside. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Your shot flies perfectly, hitting the quartz and ricochetting up into the dead center of the target. You look up at the Crosshair, making no effort to try to hide the smug look on your face. 

“Tricky girl,” he says, his eyes narrowing. 

“Got to consider all the angles,” you tease as you straighten back up. 

Crosshair reaches to his belt and holds up a couple shiny discs. “I prefer these.” 

“Smart,” you respond, shifting your weight into one hip. “And yet you still took the straight-on approach.” 

He smirks at you as you stand up. “Thought it’d be best to be direct with you.” 

“Oh yeah, what about?” 

“I don’t get you,” he says plainly. 

Your brow scrunches as you lean your rifle against a nearby tree. “What’s there to get?”

“Everything about you.” He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his silver hair. “I saw you when those scavengers came up on us scouting last week. You stared down the barrel of their weapons and tried to negotiate our way out. Then when they turned, you didn’t even flinch. You’re a good hunter, you’ve been feeding us this entire trip; yet you cleaned the wound on that kybuck’s flank and let it go instead of taking the easy score. Even with me, I- I can’t figure you out, nothing gets to you.” 

It takes you a second to realize that’s the most words Crosshair has ever spoken to you, and they didn’t even come with a childish jab. You just shrug. “I learned it's best to make the most you can with what you’ve got. I try to give everyone a chance, no matter how we meet and I don’t take more than what I need. I don’t have time to let things get to me; there are much more important, more worthwhile things to be taken care of. And if I can’t let something go, I bring it here,” you finish, glancing out at your shooting range. 

Crosshair looks you up and down a couple times, then turns his back to you to face the range. Then he speaks, so softly you barely catch it, “Do you mind if I let some things go here?” 

A soft smile crosses your face. “Of course. Here.” You reach back over and hold your rifle out to him, which he takes without looking at you. 

You can see his muscles shift as he lowers himself to the ground. Not wanting to intrude, you take a few steps back up the trail. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Oh, uh I was just going to go get some water from the stream, check my snares,” you respond, covering your true intentions. 

“You won’t have your rifle,” Crosshair mutters. 

“I have my side arm, I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. 

A soft sigh drifts from his figure laying on the forest floor. “Please… stay. I can check the snares with you later.” 

You try to hide your smile as you gently lower yourself to the ground, resting your back against a tree as Crosshair brings the scope of your rifle into position. And there you stay. 

At first, Crosshair doesn’t say much. He just takes his shots at your range, adjusting things here and there. After a while, you lean your head against the tree trunk behind you and let your eyes close. The sun is filtering through the trees as it rises higher in the sky, and birds are softly chirping. It’s peaceful, like always, and the rhythmic pattern of Crosshair’s shots roll through the forest like a heartbeat. 

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear him shift.

“Here.”

Straightening up, you open your eyes and see he’s sitting cross legged, holding your rifle out. 

You take it back from him and move to stand up. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, still sitting on the ground. 

You tilt your head at him, for him saying he couldn’t figure you out, he seems to be the odd one. “The snares?”

“It’s your turn to shoot.” 

“Oh it’s fine,” you say, waving your hand.

You shift your weight again to stand, but this time Crosshair reaches out and grasps your bracer. “That’s what you were coming out here to do anyway, right? I interrupted you.” 

His words are so different from the ones that normally pass between the two of you. Not gentle, necessarily, but less defensive. You take a breath before nodding your head, just barely. Crosshair scoots out of your way. If you weren’t so focused on making the space between you a place where he could be open, you might have giggled at the way he moved, still in his cross-legged position. 

You slowly lower yourself onto your belly and bring your scope to your eye. Crosshair had adjusted things slightly, but strangely you didn’t mind. Usually it would irk you if someone had moved things on your rifle, but you had handed him your weapon of your own volition. It was nice to know that he felt so comfortable with you and had handled your rifle with such care and reverence. You take a few shots, aiming at various targets over the range. 

As you sit up to replace the mag, you notice Crosshair is studying you intently. You smile. “What?” 

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re a skilled sharpshooter. You even pace with your breath, impressive.” 

You rock back on your heels. “Took me some time to get it, but practice makes perfect.” 

Crosshair smirks at you, but not unkindly. “And that you are, nearly. Perfect- I mean…” He trails off. Again, You might have giggled at this newfound temperament, but you simply dust off your rifle a bit. 

“Oh yeah? Got any pointers for me?” you reply. 

The sniper moves closer to you. “If you’ll actually listen,” he jabs.

You chuckle. “I’m always listening.”

He gestures for you to take your prone position again and makes a few adjustments to your limbs. The time flies away from you as the two of you pass your rifle back and forth along with small conversation and stories. Crosshair doesn’t exactly soften, but he does open up to you a bit more. 

In giving you some pointers, he’s the most comfortable you’ve seen him the whole mission. Instruction and leadership are clearly his elements. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, continuously checking in that the adjustments he makes feel correct for your body. 

‘Every marksman is different.’ He had said. ‘Even if it’s the ‘correct’ way, if it doesn’t feel natural for you, then you’ll be tense or unstable and then it’s all pointless.’

You learn more than just that. Before you know it, Crosshair is telling you about his brothers, more than even Tech had told you. ‘Hunter’s helmet is specially modified to dampen his senses when needed.’ - ‘Although Tech is the smartest at basically everything, Wrecker beats him with weapons and explosives.’ - ‘Tech and I came from the same tube.’ - ‘Wrecker can tell you every ingredient in a ration pack just by tasting it.’

Some facts surprise you, like the fact that while Hunter has enhanced eyesight across the whole spectrum, Crosshair is actually farsighted and he has his holopad on the biggest text size to avoid wearing the reading glasses Tech made him. Other facts aren’t as much of a surprise, like the scar on Hunter’s chin was a gift from Crosshair when they were roughhousing as cadets. 

Crosshair even tells you what it was like growing up as ‘special’ clones on Kamino. ‘Clones are outsiders among the nat-borns of the galaxy. We were outsiders even among the clones.’ - ‘The advanced growth rate meant that for a few years from bio age 7-18 our joints always hurt. The bumps and bruises from training just blended it all together.’

You had no idea Crosshair could be so much of a talker, and he even chuckles a few times at his own stories or your side remarks. The conversation was far from annoying, though. You sat and listened intently, basking in his sudden willingness to share. Without warning, your chrono beeps, cutting one of his sentences short. You glance down and gasp at the time. 

“Everything okay?” Crosshair asks, his brow furrowing.

“We’ve been here all day.” You say. “We have to hurry if we’re going to walk the traps and get back to camp to meet the others.” 

Crosshair shoots to his feet, his jaw tense. 

Guilt settles in your stomach. “I’m sorry.” You look up at him, but he refuses to meet your eyes. “I was enjoying it here, but-”

“We have to go.” He says in a gruff voice. The walls are back up.

You solemnly gather your gear and the two of you walk your snare lines in silence. You’re tempted to respark the conversation you two had been sharing, but you can tell the moment is lost, and pushing would be futile. 

When you arrive back at base camp, the others are already milling about preparing the dinner rations. Hunter glances between you and Crosshair as you enter the camp, but says nothing. Not even when he notices Crosshair is the one carrying the score from your traps. 

Dinner is served as normal, but Crosshair takes his into the building serving as your bunk house rather than eating around the fire with the rest of you. You try to keep that sinking feeling out of your stomach to no avail. Had you pushed him? He was opening up to you, being receptive. Why did your chrono have to bring you crashing back to reality?

Your thoughts continue to swirl in your head as you wash up after dinner and you barely notice when Hunter appears beside you at the basin. 

“You okay?” He mutters, picking up a dish and swirling it in the water. 

“Mm, yeah,” you mutter. 

A chuckle rumbles deep in Hunter’s chest. “I saw you two today.” 

You can feel the Sergeant’s implication pressing in on you. “Oh yeah, he just got bored and wanted something to do.” 

Hunter shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. He likes you.” 

“He has a funny way of showing it,” you jab back, shoving the memory of your day at the range deep into the back of your mind. 

“He’s just...” Hunter sighs. “Figuring it out on his own terms. He takes patience. You’ve been doing well so far, just hold out a little longer and he’ll open up to you.” 

‘He was…’ You think to yourself. Instead you finish wiping the last dish and flick the water off your hands. “Well I don’t have forever,” you say shortly, turning to walk into the bunks. 

Grumbling nonsense to yourself, you turn the corner to your room and your breath catches in your throat. On your bed lies a single item. 

A bright orange and maroon lily.

After that day at your shooting range, little changes in your interactions with Crosshair. His snarky comments return, but his demeanor towards you does begin to shift. His morning jab was now accompanied by a cup of caf complete with a splash of milk, just the way you liked it. His hand was now the first to reach out when unloading gear to lighten your load, though it still came with some iteration of a sly ‘sweetheart’. There was even a time you had fallen asleep by the campfire and you woke with a blanket draped over you. Hunter swore up and down that Crosshair had been the last one to bed that night.

With two weeks left in the squad’s mission, you make your way to the range alone, lost in thought. At 0400, your comm had beeped with a message from Argus: you would be immediately moving on to your next assignment upon your return to the Coalition Command Base. A scuffle on Scarif’s opposite pole needed your attention, and reportedly the territory was still severely hostile. 

Though you didn’t want to admit it, your time hosting Squad 99 had been little short of a vacation. Just last night, Hunter had pulled you aside and offered you a spot on the team as a ‘Civilian Consultant.’ 

‘Even though we’re supposed to be a clone squad, it’s a way of skirting the rules.’ He had said with a wink. ‘It wouldn’t pay much, but you’d be taken care of.’

You had told him you’d think about it, but you couldn’t imagine leaving Scarif. Your people need you. As your thoughts tumble in your head, you nearly step on something as you break the treeline into your sniper’s nest. Not something - someone.

“You’re very observant today,” Crosshair groans as he stands up. 

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head trying to clear it. 

Crosshair looks down at you, his brow furrowed. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “What is it?”

The moment your eyes meet his, the words start tumbling from your mouth. You tell him everything. The comm from Argus that arrived before the boys rose that morning. The stress that’s been on your shoulders as the First Lieutenant of the Coalition. 

You tell him about the pit in your stomach that grows every time you see a starving child, or a family ripped apart by raiders. Even about the pity you feel for the dying light in the eyes of bandits you arrest. How your homeworld was dying and there was little you could do about it. 

You find yourself telling him about Hunter’s offer, and your temptation to take it. How the allure of staying with the squad you’d grown fond of was near irresistible, but the guilt at your eagerness to leave your homeworld behind was clawing at your chest. 

Before you know it your breath is rising in your throat, your pulse quickening, your head beginning to spin, when suddenly your world becomes dark. It takes you a second to realize that you didn’t pass out, but your face is pressed to something… warm. Something solid and stable. 

The scent of the camp soap surrounds you as Crosshair presses you to his chest, one arm curling around you, the other cradling the back of your head. Your breathing begins to steady and your heartbeat slows to match the steady beating of his heart under your cheek. 

After a while you find it in yourself to mutter “Cross-”

“Shh.” He cuts you off, ruffling your hair slightly. “Don’t speak, just breathe for a second.” 

Another couple minutes like that and you feel your body begin to relax. Crosshair releases you from his grip and you feel your weight on your own two feet again. Again you try to speak. “I’m so-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” He cuts you off again. “You have a lot going on and a lot to think about. Let the rest of the galaxy melt away for a bit. That’s why you’re here, right?” He says with a smirk. 

You let out a breath. “I suppose.” Then you realize. “Hey, speaking of - what are you doing here?”

Crosshair rubs the back of his neck. “Ehh. Needed some time to think?” 

“You don’t sound so sure.”

He just shrugs. “I’ve never been… good with talking.” 

You smile but take a step back from him. “You don’t have to be. We don’t have to talk at all.” You say, your words gentle.

Crosshair’s deep honey eyes look down at you. “The thing is… I want to. I just don’t…” He sighs, then leans over to pull something from his pack laying nearby. “Here.”

You look down at what he’s trying to hand you. It’s two maroon and orange lilies. Their bright colors stand out against his dark gear. You take them from him, delicately and look back up. His eyes are searching your face for any sign of caution. 

His shoulders relax with relief when you take one of the flowers and tuck it behind your ear. “How’s the practice going?” you ask with a smile.

Crosshair’s face brightens a bit at the mention of sharpshooting. “Good. I was hoping you would be here today. I wanted to show you something new.” 

Gingerly, he takes one of your hands in his and eases your rifle off your shoulder. Rather than handing you your weapon, however, he leans it up against a nearby tree. 

“Cross, what-”

“Shh” He hushes you gently, taking the second lily from your other hand and dropping the stem into the barrel of your rifle. He guides you over to the sniper’s ridge and picks his own weapon up off the ground. “Here.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what his intentions are. He’s giving you his firepuncher.

Ever so carefully, you let him release his prized rifle into your grip. “Hmm,” you hum as your hands dip with its weight. “I assumed it would be heavy but… wow.”

“Start on the ground, then we’ll work you up to standing.” Crosshair says, his voice steady. “Adjust the scope how you need it.”

You get settled and with him crouched beside you, you bring the scope up to your view. The sounds of the forest start to melt away as you zone in on a target. 

A little puff of air hits your ear as Crosshair leans close. "Be prepared for the recoil," he mutters in a low voice. "It’s strong, but don’t fight it. Whenever you’re ready."

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

The blaster bolt is nearly silent as it flies home to the center of the target. 

There your day melts away again as you and Crosshair pass a weapon back and forth. Fewer words accompany his rifle, but it feels as though more is said. 

The last two weeks of Squad 99’s mission pass uneventfully, but there is another shift. There’s a shift in how Crosshair treats you. After your first day at the range, he had warmed more to you, but now he’s like a tooka always at your heels. He’s not overbearing, just always present. 

You’re catching yourself smiling at his little quirks more and more. The way he can fall asleep almost anywhere, curled up in a tight ball. The way he claims he drinks his caf black, but you spot him sneaking sugar into it out of the corner of your eye. The way he’s always watching, even if his back is to you. 

He also seems more physically drawn to you. Of course, he never crosses a line, but in subtle ways. He tends to brush against you more when moving about your daily routines. His hands seem to linger on your body when adjusting your sniping form, and you could feel the heat of his palm on your lower back when he steadied you after you stumbled on a trail. His voice seems to drop and soften when he speaks to you, he nearly sounds like Hunter - it’s definitely genetic. 

Of course Hunter noticed too. After your second day with Crosshair at the shooting range, Hunter had pulled you aside again. You expected an ‘older brother talking to’ where he either would grill you about your intentions or warn you to stay away, but the first words out of Hunter’s mouth had shocked you. 

“You’re good for him, you know.”

“I beg your pardon?” You had instinctively said back.

Hunter placed his hand on your shoulder, you knew it was a gesture of his affection. “You’re good for him. With you, he can just exist.” 

“You’re imagining things, Hunter.” 

“I promise you I’m not. I know he can be difficult, but it’s not because he’s apathetic. It’s just a challenge for him to put words to what’s going on in that head of his.” 

“There are more ways to understand someone than with words.”

Hunter laughed at your remark. “Like I said, you’re a good match for him. In more ways than one.”

Hunter left the conversation at that. He didn’t push, but he would tease you under his breath about it. You hated to admit it, but Hunter was right, you had grown soft on the sniper and you would come to see the effect you had on him. His shoulders were less tense, his brow furrowed less, he turned his face to the sun more. Maybe there was something growing between you and him, maybe it was something worth exploring.

‘Karking Siths Hells. Collect yourself, woman.’ You scold yourself. You shake your head to clear your thoughts as your gorset moves around a group of trees. 

Here you are. The day had finally come for Clone Force 99 to ship back out. You didn’t want to admit it but it was hitting you harder than you thought it would. You were trying to keep that armor up, but you were sadly failing. 

When you reach the Coalition’s Command Base, the brothers immediately start moving their things back to their ship. Sadly, Argus had been called to the Capital so he wasn’t there to welcome you back. As you helped the brothers repack, each made sure to say their goodbyes.

Tech held his hand out, and you moved to return the handshake. Instead you found him grasping your forearm in a much more meaningful gesture. “It’s a physical form of farewell from our mother culture of Mandalore. It’s a symbol of respect and honor. You have been a wonderful host, and I will miss your company. You do not know how much it means that you not only answered my questions but returned them with some of your own.” 

Wrecker was next. Your hands seemed to dance in the intricate handshake you two had created. “I’ll miss having ya around!” He boomed. “I think you ruined the ration packs for me forever with your camp cooking. And Lieutenant? Thank you, for seeing us as more than clones, it’s been refreshing.”

Hunter pulled you into a tight hug like many times before. “I know I don’t need to say it, but take care of yourself. Keep in touch, I need someone to chat with that hasn’t thrown up on me.” 

This made you laugh for the first time today. “That could be arranged,” you tease back.

Before Hunter replies he looks at something behind you. Turning around you see it’s Crosshair walking towards you. You meet him halfway, searching his face for any sign of what mood he’s in. 

“Where did you disappear off to?” You ask trying to ease into a goodbye.

“Nowhere important.” He curtly replies, shoving his helmet on his head.

You bite your lip. “Okay… Best of luck, Crosshair. Stay safe out there.” 

“You too.” He holds his hand out, but unlike Tech he just gives you a simple, firm handshake. Only he doesn’t let go. 

You want to say something, but what would be the right thing? The two of you always seemed to communicate through actions more than words. There you two stand for a moment, awkwardly holding your handshake, and your eyes drift for a moment. 

When you look back at Crosshair he’s moving. Before you can register what’s happening his helmet is smacking you on the forehead, causing you to cry out and clap a hand to the sore spot.

Did he just headbutt you? Or was he trying to kiss you and forgot his helmet was on?

He lets go of your hand like he was shocked, standing straight as a pole. “I uh… I’ve got to go. Keep practicing, stay alive.”

Without another word he walks, more like runs, away from you and up the Marauder’s ramp. 

Hunter appears at your side obviously trying to contain his laughter. “That was interesting.”

“What exactly just happened?” You grumble, rubbing your forehead. 

“A very Crosshair farewell.” Hunter sighs. “Look, I know that we aren’t exactly built for relationships or even plain friendships outside of the GAR, but… don’t be a stranger. We’ve all come to like you and Crosshair, he won’t say it anytime soon, but he needs you.” 

Hunter squeezes your shoulder and jogs up the Marauder’s ramp, leaving you standing alone in the ship yard. 

Sighing and shaking your head, you turn and walk to the Command Center to gather the intel for your new deployment. After sitting through a painfully redundant briefing meeting with a couple squadron leaders with sticks up their asses, you stop by the cantina for dinner. The food weighs heavy on your tongue like glue. It doesn’t taste nearly as good as beans and rice Scarif stir fry around a campfire with a choice four troopers. 

The supply depot is your next stop to restock your personal supplies and check that your shuttle was loaded correctly. You still have a half hour before your crew is due for deployment, so you head over to the base stables to see a friend. 

Your gorset has his nose on the ground of his stall, snuffling around for remnants of his evening grain, but he raises his head at the sound of your footsteps. 

“Hey there, boy.” You coo softly at him. “What are we gonna do, huh?”

As you scratch behind his ear, your gorset turns his head for you to get to the other side and a gasp leaves your lips when you see his mane. 

Woven into your gorset’s thick locks are three bright orange lilies.

Your back aches as you make the hike from the ruins to your range. Your last assignment had been far from comfortable. The relief mission was supposed to be non combative, just transport of supplies and giving aid to the rebuilding effort in Northern Sector 7, but of course you weren’t that lucky. A band of storms blew through while you were there, sending refugees into the town you were based in. 

Your forces were already spread thin and the influx of people hadn’t helped. Then of course the raiders came. You were able to deescalate the situation the first time they showed up, but the second time they stormed the town with ballistics. The stockpile was pretty depleted at that point so at the very least the Coalition didn’t lose much. 

Argus had taken pity on you and said you had a week before he’d even think about shipping you out again, so you decided to go home for a few days. You hadn’t been back in months, much longer than usual, not since them.

The peaceful ruins of your village had felt emptier that morning when you’d arrived. You half-expected Wrecker to come barreling through the brush asking about dinner, or for Tech to appear beside you with some obscure question about your home world. 

You had to admit you did miss Hunter, he had his way of knowing what was going on with you without even asking. Though the temptation was there to take his offer and join the squad, you just couldn’t leave Scarif and her people. Hunter didn’t blame you though, he knew the pressure you were under as the Coalition’s First Lieutenant. Who would’ve done the job if you left?

You had exchanged comm frequencies with Hunter, but hadn’t heard anything from them, about anything. Not that you were expecting to. The fourth member of Squad 99 lingered on your mind more than the others, but it’s not like you were pining after him. 

Crosshair had made you no promises, nor had you him. You just wondered where he was, what his missions were. You wondered if he was okay, not just physically, but under the armor he put up around himself. 

The sun is already high in the sky when you reach your range. You take a couple minutes to go over your rifle, then take your standing position.

Your sore muscles shift as you bring your rifle up to your view and set the barrel on the rest you added to your shoulder plate. You sweep the range, checking the status of your targets, but stutter when you notice something nestled in the foliage.

 A bright orange lily.

Shaking your head, you keep sweeping the range, then you spot another lily. Then another, and another. Your mouth drops open as you lower your weapon. It couldn't be, could it?

The undergrowth behind you rustles and you know it’s him before he speaks. "Good to see you're practicing. We need you again. I need you again."

[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

a funny anecdote with the selection?

irene: buah, you have got me...

alexia: misa points them out and is better at telling them to you.

misa: like a lot. let's see, once we were watching a series and [laia] codi was asleep since we started watching it, and i went to comment it with alexia and she answered asleep and nothing, i'm gone.

laia: with eva navarro we shared a room with a sleepwalking roommate and it was very funny. one night we had to handle the situation a little bit at night with our roommate.

irene: when codi does her dance.

maría: we had a whole afternoon off until 00:00 or so and we went to dinner with some of our colleagues. they served us super late, we were kind of running out of time. there was a garbage truck in front of us and there was an accident in front of us, so we also had stops. we arrived at 23:59 sweating and on time and nobody realized that we were on late and everything was fine.

misa: winning the nations league and going to party in albornoz. it was just that comfortable.

source: @futfemiberdrola on twitter

[codywanweek]

PROMPTS 2024 (aug 4-11)

Thank you all so much for voting!! I hope you like this year's selection of prompts 🧡💙

Two notes: Firstly: ✨✨This year Codywan week will be 8 DAYS! On day 8 we celebrate our fifth year of codywan week.✨✨

Secondly: Like last year the overall top 7 of all prompts have been marked orange*. If you prefer having just one set of prompts, you can use these seven!

~~~~~~~

Writing

Alternate Universe: Day 1. No/Different Order 66* Day 2. Aro/Ace Codywan (how to write aro/ace codywan) Day 3. Soulmate AU* Day 4. Video Game AU Day 5. Original Kenobi Series Script* (see: here) Day 6. Crèchemaster Obi-Wan Day 7. Modern AU: Teacher/University/Academia AU*

Broad: Day 1. Lightsaber/ Lightsaber training Day 2. “There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.” — Patrick Rothfuss - The Wise Man's Fear Day 3. After the war Day 4. “Subtle” witty banter during the war* Day 5. Hurt/Comfort Day 6. Quiet Love Day 7. Courting

Specific: Day 1. Truth Spell/Serum Day 2. Beating rival suitors off with a stick* Day 3. Take me instead/saving each other Day 4. Raising kids/padawans/kidfic Day 5. Only one bed Day 6. Touch starved* Day 7. Dimension travel (by one character)

DAY 8: 5TH anniversary

[ID in alt text]

~~~~~~~

Art

Alternate Universe: Day 1. Rebel Husbands AU* Day 2. Crèchemaster Obi-Wan Day 3. WLW Codywan Day 4. Meet as kids/young Obi-Wan and Cody/Padawan Obi-Wan and Captain Cody Day 5. Celestial Beings AU/(Celtic/Scottish & Māori) Mythology AU* Day 6. Soulmate AU Day 7. Modern AU: Rural type jobs (farmer/cowboy/homesteader)*

Broad: Day 1. "I love you like the sun" Day 2. Growing Old Together Day 3. Kyber Crystals* Day 4. Red string of fate Day 5. Pets and animals (tookas, Boga) Day 6. Touch starved Day 7. Battle couple

Specific: Day 1. Beating rival suitors off with a stick Day 2. Cody with a lightsaber* Day 3. Scars Day 4. One of Cody's antennae is linked to a tracker in Obi's lightsaber* Day 5. Comfy clothes vs. slut attire (a ho never gets cold!) Day 6. Force Sensitive Cody* Day 7. Long hair, hair cutting/trimming

DAY 8: 5TH anniversary

[ID in alt text]

~~~~~~~

NSFW (below the cut)

Writing: Day 1. Bottom Cody Day 2. "Good boy" Day 3. Sex Pollen Day 4. Praise kink Day 5. That's not how the Force works Day 6. Gasping/Begging/Moaning Day 7. Service top Cody

Art: Day 1. Kneeling Day 2. One naked/one clothed Day 3. Gasping/Begging/Moaning Day 4. Piercings Day 5. Wedding night Day 6. Shower sex Day 7. Lingerie

DAY 8: 5th anniversary

[ID in alt text]

@swfandomevents

[artificial-transmutations]

Calling the plumber

One bad thing about Scott's and Cody’s relationship was that they both were almost stereotypically gay in a lot of senses. Both were thin and lithe, had a somewhat androgynous appearance. They were stylish and well-groomed and even their professions were a little bit gay: Scott was the bartender at a gay club and Cody was a hair stylist.

All of that wasn't much of a problem of course. What *was* problematic however, at least at the moment, was, that neither of them had any proficiency in handicraft. So, it didn't come as a surprise that the two of them stood rather clueless in front of the clearly leaking sink in their kitchen.

Scott was the first one to speak. "It looks bad."

Cody sighed and nodded in agreement. "Yep. Looks like we need to call a plumber."

"Oof. It's Sunday, that's gonna cost us! Are you sure there's no other way?" Scott was the one managing their finances and he wasn't too happy about having to pay out for repairs.

Cody shrugged. "Well, we can't very well fix it ourselves, right? Or do you know anything about fixing water pipes?"

Scott frowned and scratched his head. "Not exactly. But..."

Cody looked at Scott expectantly. "You're gonna try it?"

Scott shrugged his shoulders. "I can at least try. It's not going to get leakier, right?"

"Well..." Cody was about to point out that, indeed, Scott could very much make it worse than the current leak, but he refrained from doing so. Instead, he pointed out: "You know, this is one of the times where a stereotypical straight guy would be useful. You know the type, Mr. fix-it-all-by-yourself."

"Sadly, we don't have that, honey. Now, let's get my dad's tools."

Shortly after, Scott was with his head under the sink.

"Now, let's see. Perhaps, I can just use one of those clampy thingies... to make it tighter?"

"I think they are called wrenches?" Cody tried to be helpful.

"Isn't that a slur for women?" Scott asked, while trying his best with the tool.

"No, that's a wench!" Cody laughed. "Are you alright down there?"

"Yeah, I just need to..." Suddenly, the resistance vanished, and the dripping of water became a small jet.

"Oh, for fucks sake!" Scott cried out, completely atypical for him.

"Everything alright?" Cody asked and cleared his throat. His voice sounded coarser than before.

"Yeah, sorry about the mess, Sir." Scott mumbled. Sir? Where did that come from? He did have other things to think about, though. He felt uncomfortable and shifted his position under the sink. His body was expanding in every direction: His frame became wider, and his arms and legs exploded with muscles.

There was an audible ripping sound from his shirt as it got stretched to the breaking point by his growing pecs.

Hair grew in quickly, both on his chest and his chin, giving him a rugged and somewhat older look.

"Shit", he cursed under his breath and quickly selected a more suitable tool from his toolbox. With a flex of his incredible biceps, he made short process of the jet of water he caused, allowing him to get to the root cause of the problem. The pipes were old and grimy, and the leak would surely not be the last. "That's a fine mess you got down here, Sir. You should replace the pipes as soon as possible."

Cody was distracted by his own observations. At first, he quite enjoyed the show as his boyfriends lower body that was sticking out under the sink elongated and became beefier by the second - including, especially, the large package in the dirty pants-turned-workpants of Scott and the hairy abdomen.

But soon, his focus shifted to his own body. His jeans and shirt quickly dissolved, leaving him standing in just his underwear. Instead of his usual meek body, however, an equally fit body that was sculpted in the gym formed: big arms, a massive chest and trunks of legs grew on him, giving him a magnificent appearance.

However, as his body grew, his intellect diminished: His square face looked at the plumber under his sink with less and less intelligence in his eyes. His sight didn't stick to the other man's groin anymore, of course: He wasn't gay and just didn't see that kind of thing on a man. Instead, he scratched his ass through his dirty white underwear and answered in a dull voice:

"Uh, don't worry about the mess, dude. I'm not a neat-freak. Can you replace the pipes for me, bro?"

Cody earned enough money as a fitness trainer, but the truth was, even though he certainly was a real man, he wasn't very good with stuff around the house, mainly because he was too dumb for it. So, he just called a specialist for everything he needed done to his bachelor pad.

Scott crawled out from under the sink. "Sure thing, Sir." he said. "But not on a Sunday, I'm afraid. I won't get the parts I need. Besides, my wife and kids are waiting for me at home with dinner. I suggest you call my office tomorrow."

"Awesome, bro", Cody beamed a happy, yet dim smile at Scott. "Thanks for coming over on such short notice."

He handed the plumber his money and brought him to the door, watching the mid-thirties man drive away in his dirty van. Now that this was taken care of, what now? Ah, probably what he had planned before the sink accident interrupted him. He plopped down on the couch, fished out his half-hard cock and unpaused the porn video that had been on the big screen the whole time.

I know gay-to-straight is a sensitive topic and I do get that we all encounter enough homophobia in our everyday's lifes that we don't need to encourage it in fantasy. So, while I will occasionally continue to write gay-to-straight TFs, I will try to not hit the "lib to con", "MAGA" or homophobia track but express it as another sexuality and the tropes that come with it.

ANYWAY. If you like what I do and want to read more stories and experience new stories as soon as they are written AND reap awesome exclusive rewards, consider subscribing to my riot page!

[norraexploradora]

The Tragedy of the CX Troopers and the Missed Opportunity to Teach Us All an Important Lesson

A deeper look into how the CX-Troopers were handled in the Bad Batch and the narrative surrounding them that unfortunately got dropped in season 3

I want to start off by applauding the Bad Batch for the brave attempt to tackle dark topics throughout the series and presenting them in a way that is appropriate for families to watch and discuss with their children. Most of series is successful in being just dark enough to raise tension but to also keep things suitable for a child’s first glimpse into the harsh realities of life. However there still a few places that missed the mark.

The one I wish to cover today is the inconsistent narrative surrounding the CX-Troopers. I’m not here to say it was bad writing per se, but if a dark topic is discussed in a family oriented tv series, it is best to commit adequate time to truly flesh it out so the messaging is clear. Subjective is great in a mature series like Andor, but kids lack the life experience required to read between the lines.

And yes, exposition does make dialogue sound clunky at times, but there is a reason why most cartoons in the 80s had the kind of “The more you know” lesson after each episode. The Bad Batch was no different. Tech’s speech in the Crossing and his encouragement to Omega at the end of Retrieval are perfect examples of this.

In my opinion, there was an opportunity for an important lesson to be learned from the CX Troopers that was brought up but left unfinished. These shadow operatives could have been a way to show the viewer how anyone can be “brainwashed” either by force or by clever manipulation.

One operative in season 2 called himself a “Believer” which seems to evoke he was forcibly submerged into a cult-like indoctrination. It’s also why I prefer to use the phrase “coercive persuasion” or “forced persuasion” instead of brainwashing as they are a more accurate description of the process that has been historically implemented by governments, cults, and captors in order to make good people believe in or do horrible things.

Dr. Hemlock’s use of forced persuasion on select clones to turn them into CX-Troopers is a interesting look into the real world and well-documented cases of brainwashing within fascist regimes; especially in wartime settings. It is common and disturbing tactic implemented in moments of great despair and something that deserves more focus within the narrative if it is to be brought up as a major plot point.

Most of the brainwashing aspects in the Bad Batch were rapidly glossed over probably due to time and budget constraints, and not so much by the dark and disturbing imagery. One can easily get the “idea across” without showing it explicitly. (Like Crosshair having his hand chopped off. We didn’t see it but yeah, we get the gist).

I will say however, that despite the mystery surrounding brainwashing in the CX-Program, one of the more poignant moments was Captain Rex telling a caught CX Trooper that he was still their brother and that they would help him. It was a beautiful show of compassion and introduced new plot element; that the soldiers who undergo forced persuasion could possibly be reached or even saved.

It’s not a stretch to believe that the Bad Batch would take this route given the series had built up “we don’t leave our own behind” as one of the main themes. It would also be safe to say that saving fictional heroes from brainwashing gives us hope that real life survivors can recover from such trauma.

It was one of the many reasons fans were led to believe that the mysterious CX-2 operative could have been Tech or Cody. The focus on this particular shadow operative gave rise to speculation that he was different, that there was something coming to shed light or hope that a lost soldier could be found and rescued; something that would make sense of it were a character we already cared greatly about.

Alas, CX-2 was kept a mystery box that gave no insight to the tragic nature of his existence nor gave us a reason to mourn his death. That is why the battle between the Bad Batch and Hemlock’s Batch of secret operatives felt rushed and incomplete to some viewers. There wasn’t proper time for the story to breathe beyond “One Batch is good, the other Batch is bad.”

There were simply too many dropped narratives throughout the final season that reduced the whole CX Trooper plot to a video game-esque final boss battle. Don’t get me wrong, it was an amazing fight, beautifully animated, terrifying, and intense; but nevertheless, it felt hollow because the build-up went nowhere.

At that’s exactly where the narrative around the tragic nature of brainwashing got lost.

It’s important for you to know that I’m not saying the Bad Batch killing these operatives in the final fight was wrong. I’m also not saying that they should have tried to reach out to save these Shadow Operatives in the middle of of a life and death situation. It’s just unfortunate that we were never given a reason to feel anything other than relief that the CX-Troopers were killed.

And yes, this is a show about the Bad Batch and not brainwashed mystery troopers, but I stress, the writing set up these characters and introduced a very dark and disturbing concept to young viewers. With more time and effort spent on the narrative, it could have been an important lesson that applies to real life.

Coercive Persuasion is not a fantasy concept. It is very very real. Sleep deprivation, isolation, abuse, constant interrogation, drugging, shame, and humiliation, are all various means to break down a person’s will and forcibly persuade them into believing anything.

One can simply look to how many people get forced into false confessions by unethical police practices, or those who end up committing atrocities due to cult leader manipulation. A more common and less obvious example is social media outlets designed to spin conspiracy theories; coercing people into believing anything they want, like like the Earth is flat and microchips were put in Covid vaccines. By preying upon people’s anger and fear, these sites cultivate distrust and can lead one to extremist thinking.

This is real world, dark and scary stuff that needs to be handled with serious care and consideration of bringing it into an animated Star Wars series.

So given more time and budget, how could this lesson be shown through the story of the Bad Batch? How could these brainwashed operatives been presented in a way to that is scary but still gives younger audiences a way to sympathize with them?

Shedding more light on a terrifying process would remind us the CX-Troopers are victims and despite their terrifying nature, they still deserve our compassion and empathy. So giving the operatives more of a backstory is a good start.

For Example:

Showing the transformation of at least one of these operatives before the final battle would provide more emotional impact after their demise. Having kids clearly, and not subjectively, understand that under those cool costumes there used to be good men is such an important lesson. It reinforces the narrative that the real villains aren’t these soldiers but the regime that warped their minds and forced them into mindless monsters.

To be clear, this a a family series and I am in no way implying that a clear visual of lengthy torture would be acceptable. There are already hints through Crosshair’s PTSD and that is enough to get the idea across.

My suggestion would have been to place the sniper clone who eventually became CX-2 in the cell next to Crosshair while on Tantis. The viewer gradually sees these two men go back and forth to their cells after these conditioning sessions and the witness bond that forms between them. Crosshair is forced to see CX-2’s identity slip more and more away after each session until he is no longer the person he once was. The sadness and loss of seeing this man lose his identity not only leaves a mark on Crosshair, but by the viewer as well.

The scene of the shadow operative watching Crosshair on Tantiss and the one shadow operative calling him “brother” would have made more sense in retrospect. In addition, having an emotional and clear connection between Crosshair and the man who became CX-2, would have given their epic fight on top of the waterfall more emotional weight. CX-2’s line “You could have been one of us. You made the wrong choice” would be more resonant to the viewer. CX-2 would literally be a sniper shadow operative that Crosshair could have become verses a subjective mystery box.

To further this narrative and Crosshair’s character arc, making the above change to the story could have also opened the door to Crosshair eventually saving this lost brother. Omega’s determination to never give up on Crosshair could have resulted in Crosshair reaching out to CX-2 and eventually getting through to him before the final battle. It would have been so emotional and fulfilling.

And yet…as lovely as that would have been, I realize the above scenario would require at least one additional episode; which the animation team probably didn’t have the luxury or the budget to do. So I’ll offer another solution:

Adding a few minutes here and there during season 2 and the beginning of season 3 dedicated to Hemlock’s treatment to the CX-Troopers and other Clone prisoners would give the viewer a clearer picture into the nature of the CX Program. The result would be that the feeling of triumph wouldn’t be seeing the shadow operatives lying dead on the floor but knowing that the experimentation on the clones at Tantiss by Dr. Hemlock was finally over.

So in conclusion:

It’s a shame that the shadow operatives were left a mystery and simply became foils and metaphors. The fight at the end was nothing more than the Batch having to kill or be killed and it failed to showcase a serious topic with less black and white thinking.

With more time, the writers could have explored the tragedy of forced coercion. Discussing a difficult subject in a manner fit for young audiences could leave them with awareness when they are faced with a similar real world scenario.

The CX-Trooper plot could have also been a good way for a parent to discuss what coercive persuasion does to people; especially in today’s world where social media is rife with bad people luring in youth and manipulating their anger and fear into extremist thinking.

Think about it.

How does someone get so isolated that they fall prey to extremism and they end up committing acts of terrorism? How does one get indoctrinated into a cult and become so brainwashed that they take their own lives or the lives of others at the behest of a cult leader? How would an innocent person sign a confession of a crime they didn’t commit?

These are all good questions that people often ask after horrendous real life events and can regularly be seen on the daily news and social media. Having a fictional metaphor for scary real world issues that children could easily understand would be exactly the kind of thing Star Wars was created for. It was also created to give children and all of us hope.

So in the end, the lesson should have been that people who fall victim to brainwashing aren’t weak or gullible. They have been put through extreme duress and put through unethical means of isolation and manipulation.

And if there is hope for even one of the CX-Troopers to be saved, we as a society should have empathy and try to reach out to those in our own lives who have been a victim of coercive persuasion before writing them off.

Disclaimer:

One thing I’ve learned in life is that platforms like Twitter are not places for deep discussions and good faith arguments. You have a set number of letters to get your ideas across and interpreting the meaning or tone always leads to misunderstandings.

That is why I’m coming to to Tumblr to discuss my deep dives into season 3 of the Bad Batch. I am the type of person who doesn’t like angry, confrontational sparring over ideas.

My goal is to shed light on a different perspective; not to make anyone agree with me, but just to understand that we can all watch the same show and interpret things differently due to our own life experiences. By explaining my viewpoints, I’m showing you into my thought process. You are certainly free to disagree but I’m not trying to change your feelings on the matter, nor do I wish for anyone to forcibly change mine.

We can all exist in the same space and I encourage anyone who has a different view to write an analysis of their own instead of arguing in anyone’s comment section. Be kind and respectful and most of all, remember this is fiction and subjective interpretation. There are so many things to be really angry about in the world and Star Wars is the least of our worries.

Cheers and as always, May the Force be with you!