#star wars the clone wars headcannons

[clonemommy]

My Heart Always Returns To You

Summary: Fox comes home to you.

Pairing: Commander Fox x f!Reader

Word Count: 542

Author’s Note: -

-----

The rain drew silver lines on his armour as Fox walked with heavy steps through the streets of Coruscant. His watch shift was over, but the war in his mind never stopped. He knew he should return to the barracks - to the cold metal beds, to the men who were as exhausted as he was. But his feet carried him along a different path.

Home.

Not to any Coruscant Guard quarters or the Senate, where the politicians were making plans that were none of his business. But to her.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by a comforting wave of warm air, a soft scent of tea, and something that smelled like a home he’d never known. She was sitting on the windowsill, her gaze out at the endless city lights.

“You’re late,” she said without turning around. Her voice was calm, but Fox heard the worry in it.

He unfastened his helmet and set it down next to the door. The red visor reflected the glow of the lamps. “Had another mission.”

She exhaled slowly. “I hate it when you say it was just a mission like it was nothing. Like it was…” She paused.

“Inevitable,” He completed her sentence, the weight of duty heavy in his voice.

She turned to him, her eyes scrutinizing him - tired, exhausted, but still full of warmth. “I’m afraid that one day you won’t come back.”

Fox sighed and stepped to her, his fingertips brushing her arm before he took her hand. His touch was rough, but she held him close. “When they carry me to my grave, it will be with my heart with you.”

Her lips quivered slightly. “You speak as if this is just a borrowed moment.”

Fox didn't know what to say. Maybe it was. Perhaps this was all just a brief respite in a life that didn’t belong to him. But when he was here and with her, he felt… real.

“I wish I could promise you more,” he whispered.

She leaned against his chest, her head resting against the cool armour. “You’ve already promised me everything, Fox. Every time you come back.”

The hours passed. Fox lay beside her, his arm loosely around her waist. He couldn’t sleep, not really. He never could. His mind was too trained to stay alert.

But then he felt her fingers run over his cheek - gently as if she was bringing him out of a nightmare before it began.

“Get some sleep,” she whispered.

“Can’t.”

She moved closer, her breath warm against his neck. “Then just stay here.”

He closed his eyes.

And for a moment, it felt like the war didn’t exist.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as Fox quietly pushed himself out of bed. She barely stirred, but he heard her voice as he picked up his armour.

“Are you coming back?”

He paused. He didn’t know. No one knew. The war was a fickle and unpredictable force.

But when he looked at her, when he saw the light in her eyes, he knew one thing for sure:

His heart would always return to her no matter where the war called him.

“Always.”

End 💙

[graylinesspam]

Things the cafeteria workers on the Resolute have done to accommodate Ahsoka's dietary needs.

learned how to make powdered eggs into hard boiled eggs

add protein paste to bread treats like sweet rolls or pancakes

absolutely mastered making eggdrop soup from powdered egg (they're very proud of this one)

Turned one of the coolers into a makeshift freeze dryer for the fresh kills Ahsoka manages to drag back to the Resolute (occasionally)

In the same vein as the last one, how to butcher various animals.

Requested dietary supplements from the jedi temple that they crush up and sprinkle into her food like seasoning.

Have an ongoing trade with the Corries where they bring back various contraband from the midrim and in exchange get a couple crates of dried meat sticks.

Tuck away a crate of her favorite ration bars every resupply.

Request for high protein dried plants and grains that store well.

Keep powdered milk.

Things Rex has done to satisfy her hunting instincts.

Started offering her meat sticks as a reward for successful spars.

Assigned specific troopers as targets for her to hunt across the ship. They have treats in their pockets.

Lets Ahsoka run the shinys through their drills.

Making time for her to actually hunt on deployments.

Willingly tasting her kills...even the more questionable looking ones.

Organizes what is essentially flag tag across the ships where troopers have to go about their jobs while also trying to avoid getting their "flags" snatched. If Ahsoka reaches a certain quota of flags without loosing hers she gets to pick the movie for movie night.

[mossyboots]

Padmé and Ahsoka (first SW post!)

[levi-venn]

When CT-9904, the clone that would one day become "Crosshair", was first pulled from his birthing tank, he did not cry.  

This was by design.

Engineered to become a “stealth soldier”, 04's vocal cords were shaped so that he could not raise his voice above a frustrated rasp. It was often muted by his incubator.

CT-9902, who would one day adopt the moniker "Tech", was also silent, but this was always a cause for concern. When 02 was quiet, he was most likely attempting his next escape. He had kicked the latch off his first incubator. He had poked the hinges off his second. By the third, Nala Se had nowhere to put the baby escape artist.

Putting 02 in 04's incubator was supposed to be a temporary solution.

A week later, when the new, reinforced incubator arrived, she picked up 02, and found his hand locked with 04's with an iron grip. 

CT-9902 cried. 

CT-9904 hissed.

And so, the ever patient Nala Se left 02 where he was there.  There were no more escape attempts after that.

One day, CT-9902 began to cry.

Nala Se was in the middle of calming 03 who was trying to wreck the changing table with tiny, but mighty fists.

"Omega, see to 02, please, he needs to be changed."

Omega slid off her stool and without looking up from her datapad she said. "It's 04 who needs changing."

"How do you know?" Nala Se asked.

"02 cries louder when 04 needs help."

- Excerpt from Cross and Crow (Read series on AO3)

[the-bi-space-ace]

Trouble Sleeping Headcanons

hi I haven’t been sleeping well for the past few weeks (anxiety) so here’s what our favorite clones are like when they can’t sleep.

Echo

He does one of two things. 1) Sometimes when he can’t sleep he goes to the cockpit to join whoever is on watch. He sits in the copilot’s seat and hangs out or chats. Keeps them entertained. 2) he picks a target and climbs into bed with them. He’s very quiet about it so he usually doesn’t wake them up. Often one of the batch wakes up to an armful of Echo and zero blankets because he’s stolen them in his sleep.

Crosshair

Can’t stand suffering alone. He will wake someone up to talk to him and he will also try to convince them they woke him up. They rarely fall for this but go along with him anyway. Either that or he’ll sketch. Clean his rifle. Something to keep his hands busy. If they’re parked he will get out on top of the ship and stargaze.

Cody

He rolls over and rubs a hand down his face and works. Reports. Battle plans. Messages from other commanders asking for his opinion. He just keeps going until his brain is so overloaded he just passes out. Sometimes he will wake up and stare at the ceiling and think about finding someone to bunk with for the night but often he prefers keeping busy.

Rex

This man goes for a jog. Or boxes. Anything physical. He can’t sleep so he might as well train. If his muscles hurt and he’s exhausted he might be able to sleep. He will work out until he’s nothing but sweat and sore muscles and then he takes a shower. Sometimes other clones are doing the same thing he is, trying to do anything to get their minds to quiet, but other times he just walks around alone. He does a barracks check if that still doesn’t work, walking through the rows of sleeping troopers to make sure all is well.

Wrecker

Is not often in a situation where sleep doesn’t come easy. But if he does find himself awake he will find a snack. Eating will usually get him to at least the sleepy stage again. His next trick is to just make sure Lula is close by. Once he’s warm and full(er) he can usually manage falling back to sleep.

Tech

He’s gonna tinker. He will find any and every project and tinker until the sun rises. He has finished larger projects in one night from this very behavior.

Hunter

I’m imagining him sitting in a chair on the Marauder and sipping on something warm. He will sometimes relieve the person on watch and take over. He is also more inclined to a physical distraction but their busy schedule means he can’t go for a run like he’d prefer. So sometimes he does quiet exercises in the cockpit to avoid waking anyone else up. Tire himself out that way. Extra headcanon that if Echo also can’t sleep they sit in the cockpit and talk. Sometimes share a bottle of whatever alcohol they have on the ship. Share stories. All in the quiet of the ship while everyone else sleeps.

Fox

Sleep? What is sleep? He’s had ten energy drinks today and also three stims. He doesn’t remember the last time he closed his eyes. Not even to blink. Was that the caf timer??? Is it daylight already? It’s Thursday he thought it was still Monday? Someone take this man to bed and tuck him in please.

[raphaerolo]

Clone troopers addressing a large group of people: Brothers and Others...

[ireadwithmyears]

How each member of the bad batch would be with a visually impaired significant other (short imagine’s/headcannons

Part two|visually impaired reader masterlist

Word count: 5.4K

Pairings: the bad batch ex female reader (individual)

Tags/warnings: some are suggestive, mostly domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injuries

note: look, it’s the epitome of self indulgence. I wrote this solely because I’m blind, and have never seen these ideas discussed when it comes to our beloved boys. However, I recognize that the majority of people reading this will not have shared this experience, so this is why I am adding a disclaimer/reminder to tell you that blindness is a spectrum, and the majority of us have at least a degree of useable vision left, so that is why I continue to use visual language/descriptors like look or watching. That being said, I hope you enjoy these, I had so much fun writing them, and if you have an idea for a specific scenario so I can do more of these, or another particular clone who isn’t a member of the batch, please let me know, and I would be happy to write more

Hunter🩷 

Hunter is the best at planning dates when it comes to keeping your accessibility and comfort in mind. 

If he wants to take you out somewhere, he’ll always go and scope it out beforehand, analyzing things that might not make it an enjoyable experience for you. I.e. if the lighting is too low and will obscure any of your remaining vision. If the music is too loud and will make it hard for you to effectively communicate with him. He knows that both of these things, especially when they’re working in tandem, can make you feel on edge and anxious, and that’s the last thing he wants you to feel when he’s taking you out on a date.

He will always ask the establishment about things like accessible or braille menus, or, if you happen to have a guide dog, seating that will have the space to accommodate and be comfortable for all of you.

If the menu isn’t accessible for you, he will always give you a heads up beforehand, using his datapad to pull up the menu on the holonet so that he can help you familiarize yourself with it, and you can decide what you want before you get there, taking a lot of the stress and pressure off of you because you don’t have to rush.

He wants you to feel cherished, loved, and safe when you’re out and about with him. So if you are going somewhere that’s particularly busy or crowded, he will also adapt himself. 

He’ll keep you close, whether it’s with your arm tucked securely in the crook of his elbow to guide you around, or his hand gently placed on the small of your back, letting it rest there so that you know he’s right there with you.

He never plans on getting separated from you, but if, by some unforeseen circumstance, it happens by accident, he has a plan for that too. 

If you’ve got remaining vision that is useable, he will intentionally wear bright, contrasting colours to make him easier to spot, even when he’s a distance away. 

If you don’t have any remaining vision, he’ll wear something like keys that jingle, or an article of jewellery that makes a distinct sound as he walks so that you can tell when he’s approaching. 

Regardless, every time you go on a night out, he will take the time to describe his appearance to you in detail, his general physical description, what he’s wearing, so that if, for some reason, you do get separated, you know how best to describe him to someone, so that they can locate him for you and help you make your way back to him

His enhanced senses have become innately attuned to your normal patterns and rhythms, and if he notices any rapid fluctuation or change be it with your breathing or heart rate, indicating that the environment you’re in is causing you stress, he’s whisking you away, taking you back home, despite any of your protests. He knows you’re just fighting him because you feel guilty about potentially messing up the night, which you absolutely are not.

He will not let you feel that way for long, because when you’re home, he is determined to make you feel like the beautiful, treasured, and wanted human being that you are.

He orders your favourite takeout food. He’ll lie you down on your bed, surrounding you with soft blankets and pillows, gently and tenderly beginning to caress and massage the tension from your tensed up shoulders and back, partly because he feels like he might have inadvertently been the cause of it being there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” you try to apologize. “I know you really wanted to...”

“Shh,” he quiets your apology, a hand coming up to softly brush a finger against your lips, resting his forehead against yours gently. “Meshla,” he breathes, unable to help the small smirk of amusement that pulls at the corners of his mouth as he observes, taking note of your breath audibly catching in the back of your throat as his finger, slow and slightly teasing, begins to lightly trace the edge of your bottom lip.

He presses his lips to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss as he affirms, “this is all I want,” he breathes in a whisper close to your ear that immediately has your whole body erupting in goosebumps.

“You,” he continues, his voice a low, husky rumble against your neck as his lips press, warm and deliberate, directly where your pulse flutters beneath them, pulling a soft, yet audible gasp out of you, that makes his lips curve up into a smile that you can feel against the skin of your neck.  “Are all I want.” 

He spends the rest of the night taking his time to prove that to you, in every way that he knows how.

*

Tech🩷

He takes note of every single bruise you get on your legs from bumping into shit all the time. 

You’re blind, it’s just an occupational hazard. You might not even notice that you have one, but he certainly does, and he’ll take care to notify you of every time you accumulate a new mark in your collection.

“There is a bruise directly above your left knee,” he observes, gentle fingers tracing over the mark with a soft frown marring his features. 

He naturally has picked up on using the language that is most helpful to describe the location of something visual to you. You didn’t even have to ask the first time you were on hands and knees on the floor, feeling around for one of your shoes. He didn’t point, and say “it’s over there,” which is just instinctive habit for most people. Instead, he had a used more specific directives like “behind you, on a slight diagonal to your right.”

“How did this happen,” he asks softly now, placing your hand directly on top of the blossoming mark on your leg.

You give him a half shrug and a rueful smile. “I don’t know,” you admit, honestly puzzled. “It happens all the time.”

From then on, he observes you closely, quickly coming to the realization that there are things that are just harder for you to look out for, and, just as quickly, doing his best to rectify each one. He’s easily able to identify a pattern of cause and effect that lead to your many bruises, bumps, and small every day accidents, and rather than being over bearing and cautious with you, he just figures out a way to remove the root of each problem entirely.

Each step on the Marauder’s gangway is suddenly marked with a long strip of brightly coloured tape at each edge, so that you can more confidently move down the steps without having to fumble to find the edge with your foot.

Low sitting caf tables in the middle of the living room, with sharp, jagged corners jutting out are suddenly pushed up against the wall, so that you don’t have to be careful while stepping around them, trying not to hit your leg off of one of them.

He makes sure that any overhead cupboards in the kitchen that are hard for you to notice until your head is colliding with their open doors, are kept securely shut, recalling a particular incident when, whilst putting away dishes, your head had caught on one of the cupboard doors, large bump blossoming on your forehead, just barely missing your eye. He had frowned, gently holding an ice pack to the swelling bump, deciding that from now then on, he would put any of the dishes away that needed to go on the top shelves. He wouldn’t budge on this, even when you tried to argue.

“Cyar,” he had said, voice stern, even as he gently took you by both of your shoulders. “I understand your need to be able to do things independently, and I respect it greatly. But, as much as you can make a light about getting bruises on your legs from these little incidents. Your head is much too important to apply that same lightness to, and I will not compromise on that so please, let me do this for you.” he had leaned down, barely brushing his lips over the bump on your head in a caring, affectionate gesture, and that had made your resolve completely crumble.

He’s also hyper aware of your systems and ways of organizing things, and it has become a habit for him to make sure that it is maintained. 

Shampoo and conditioner bottles that look almost identical with exception to the labels that isn’t much help to you are always set in a specific order for you to find in the shower. You always leave things like your wallet and your cane in the same place, and if anyone messes with these orders, it can really throw you off.

If anyone does touch or move any of your things, regardless of how insignificant, without telling you first, Tech will find out, and, especially if it’s one of his brothers, will thoroughly scold them for it, ensuring that they understand why somethings so small could be really frustrating and disorienting for you, and makes sure that they never do it again.

If you read braille, this man learns it for fun one day on a whim, and he doesn’t even tell you about it.

He’ll put away your groceries for you one day, and then you’ll be searching for something like a dinner ingredient, and find that he’s attached a braille label to the box, with completely correct use of the six dots that form the language.

When you confront him with it, he only shrugs, adjusting his goggles with a slightly confused expression.

“You sound surprised,” he observes with one raised eyebrow. “In a practical sense, this was a logical solution,” he continues, clearly unfazed by your display of shock.

“That’s not fair,” you pout, leaning against the counter and folding your arms. “If you’re going to learn braille, then you at least need to teach me some Mandoa,” you challenge.

“I was not aware that you were interested in the subject. But that is an agreeable request. What would you like to know?” He asks, looking at you questioningly.

“Like,” you bite your lip, considering, tilting your head in curiosity. “What’s that word that you always call me?” You ask. “It starts with an S? I think? Or maybe a C...c cyar?” You say, suddenly uncertain and cringing at your own pronunciation.

He straightens, suddenly grateful that you’re unable to see the blush that’s crept into his cheeks as he answers evenly. 

“Ah, yes, the word that you were saying is correct. Cyar... it means, love... or beloved,” he answers, voice going soft as he catches your hand in his, almost absently pressing his lips to the back of your knuckles briefly as you stare at him, surprised.

“You ... you love me?” You ask, hopeful and voice clearly bewildered. The smile that pulls at the corners of your lips lights up the whole room. 

Both eyebrows arch as he looks down at you, because now he’s the one who’s confused. When he responds, his voice is far less confident and sure than it usually is. It holds almost a shy, completely uncharacteristic timidness, which conveys the genuine honesty in his words when he speaks.

“Well ...cyar. of course I do. I thought it was obvious.”

*

Echo🩷 

Echo, unlike most people, understands all the aches and pains, mental and physical, that come with being disabled.

He’s sat with you on the bathroom floor, your head resting against the cool linoleum of one of the tiles on the wall after a concert. You had come home to find your head throbbing from the after affects of being surrounded by a combination of extremely loud music, a screaming crowd, and strobe lights that made you wish that you didn’t have any remaining vision at all. 

Your eyes were shut tightly, and  your heart fluttered with surprise and gratitude when, with his one functioning hand, Echo, movements slow and meticulous, carefully began to undo your hair from the tight updo it had been forced into all night. There he sat, fingers so, so gentle as they ran through your hair, undoing the tangles and soothing away some of the tight ache that had gathered at the back of your head. 

He’s careful to stay quiet, not wanting to interrupt the little bit of peace that you had found. The only thing that fell from his lips were gentle breaths and soft murmurs of “oh, sweetness, s’okay,” lips pressing the lightest kisses to your flushed cheek, the side of your aching forehead, until the painkillers had finally, finally kicked in.

If you’re a cane user, he always has his eyes peeled for the little bumps and cracks along the sidewalk.

He’s seen what happens when the tip gets caught in one of them, when the handle inevitably jabs against your stomach or ribs and the immediate discomfort on your face that follows.

He also sees the bruises that are left there afterwards, and as much as he loves gently pressing his lips to each of them, reassuring you that he’ll kiss them better, he’d rather them just not be there in the first place.

So, he always watches out for them, giving you an ample warning on ones that your cane could get caught in so that you can move it out of the way. 

He takes you to a holofilm, and you both don’t realize that it’s not available with audio description until you’re in your seats and the headset doesn’t work. He immediately turns to you, giving you a reassuring smile and offering his hand, saying “We can leave, if you want. If you’re not going to get anything out of this, we can go, and we’ll find something else to do.”

You decide to stick it out, rationalizing that you’ll still be able to get something out of the film, if not the whole story, and besides, he can catch you up on parts you didn’t understand after it’s over. 

In the end, it’s still worth it for you.  

You finish half of a bag of popcorn before commercials are even over. You’re intrigued by the movie for almost half of it, and then finally, you spend the rest of it passed out with your head resting on Echo’s shoulder, only for him to wake you, slightly chagrined, when the credits are rolling.

When you’re out of the theater, you walk together hand in hand down the street. He apologizes profusely, saying that he should have done more research. You try to laugh it off to reassure him that it was fine, because you just had one of the best naps of your life in that theater. When it’s clear that that doesn’t help, you’re turning to him, sighing with a small frown.

“Echo,” you say with a small shake of your head. “I’m the one who should be sorry, not you, love.” At his look of bewilderment, you continue. “You do so much for me already, and I’m just so, so grateful for that. It’s not always something I feel like I can repay you for.” You look away, ashamed. 

Because it’s true. He has his own set of issues and lingering problems from the injuries he sustained at the citadel. You can encourage him to do things like his physiotherapy exercises that ensures that his cybernetics are working in tandem with his body. But you can’t actually help him with them, whether it be with making modifications or repairs. It sometimes makes you feel a bit useless, because he helps you so much and you feel like you can only help him so little, and you feel like you’re just adding to his already overflowing plate sometimes.

“I know there could be easier people for you to be with,” you confess, voice quiet.

Echo stops dead at the street corner, catching your wrist to stop you from moving forward, and turning to fully face you with his brow creased in a frown.  

“Oh, Cyar’ika,” he says, voice soft, reaching out a hand to tilt your head up so that you’re looking at him. “Now who put that idea in your head, ner kar’ta?” he whispers, gazing down at you with pursed lips.

Unexpected tears spring to your eyes at his gentle tone. The truth is that you can’t place this feeling on a singular person, though people have contributed to it. Family members have made comments in passing, strangers who look at the two of you and immediately begin to judge from there own preconceived notions and outside opinions. It’s society at large, who has made you feel like your blindness is a burden to the ones you love. 

You don’t know how to say that, though. So you remain silent as Echo leans down, dropping a lingering kiss to your forehead as he whispers, “I don’t need you to make my life easier, cyar. You make my life meaningful, and that, to me, is more important. 

He rests his forehead against yours, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. “Your needs don’t make you a burden, cyar’ika. I want you to remember that. I want to make sure that they are always being met. It’s the least I can do, you understand?”

All you can do is nod, your heart in your throat. 

The next time you go see a holofilm with him, and the audio description isn’t available, Echo is prepared this time.

He still offers to leave, but when you refuse, he has a plan. In his own time, and on the occasions when you both have been watching something at home, he always makes sure the described video settings are on, for your benefit, and when he’s alone, for his.

He’s observed closely, listening and carefully paying attention to how the narrator’s go about describing things. So, when the movie starts, he leans over to you, keeping his voice low and quiet, beginning to describe to you what’s happening onscreen, careful to never interrupt any dialogue.

You stare at him, more than a little surprised. “Echo, are you going to do this for the whole film?” You ask, caught off guard and delighted all at once.

He gives you a quick nod. “Yes,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Now, be quiet and let me do it.”

True to his word, he does, staying close to you and keeping his voice quiet, so as not to disturb anyone around you. If someone still tries to shush him or gives him a dirty look for talking in the theater, he glares at them, in only the way that Echo can, until they stop.

This time, you stay awake during the whole film, watching intently, and listening to echos every word as he is meticulous in describing the visual things that you’re missing. In spite of all of the things that are different in comparison to your last date, one thing still remains the same.

You still finish the movie with your head resting on his broad shoulder, and he still looks at you like you’re the centre of his world.

*

Wrecker🩷 

The first time you make a blind joke about yourself in front of him, he’s terrified. 

Instinctively, he starts laughing, but then, registering your words, he immediately cuts himself off, not wanting to offend you, and is concerned that you’re being mean to yourself, which he will not allow. 

When you only snort at his reaction, playfully nudging him and explaining how it’s fine, because you have to make fun of the things that you are unable to change, and how it’s actually a mark of self love if you have the ability to laugh at yourself, slowly, he begins to understand. 

Soon enough, he not only readily laughs at your self deprecating humour and blind jokes, but at one point, he ends up slipping out one of his own before he can stop himself.

Again, he’s immediately apologetic and regretting his words, but when you throw back your head and laugh heartily, he feels a little less insecure and soon enough, you both have the ability to crack blind jokes with each other without missing a beat, to everyone else’s chagrin and fond amusement. 

He decides that having the ability to make you laugh, getting to watch your eyes sparkle with amusement and hearing the sounds of your joy is music to his ears, and is one of his favourite things. 

Wrecker is your number one protector. Not in a toxic, over protective way.

Even though he’s only got one functioning  eye, chances are he’s still got more vision than you, so he’s taking it upon himself to be the working set in this relationship, meaning he’s always watching out for you.

If you’ve got a guide dog, the first time he encounters it, he might have gone to pet it, but, before he did, he sees the do not interact sign, and stops short, quickly pulling back and apologizing. 

He asks questions, just to make sure he understands why it’s important, and after you explain it, he fully respects the boundaries and never forgets them, to which you are immensely thankful.

He doesn’t understand why you’re so grateful for him just doing the decent thing, until you tell him that a lot of people understand that you’re not supposed to pet the dog, but will either do it anyways, thinking that if you can’t see them doing it and they do it silently, you won’t notice, or they’ll talk in a distracting way to the animal, which is sometimes worse, and equally as distracting for the dog to work through.

This angers him, that they would take advantage of your blindness in such a disrespectful manner, and because you’ve explicitly told him that distracting your dog could potentially put you in danger, under the right circumstances.

From then on, he’s always watching.

If someone is petting your dog while it’s working, or trying to distract it, he’s right there, towering over them and glaring with his arms crossed, not so subtly pointing at the do not pet sign until they back away, stuttering and flustered.

If a child runs up to pet it, he’ll much more gently intercept them, crouching down on the ground to quietly explain to them the rules. In your experience, children are often much more respectful than adults, and watching him interact so kindly with them melts your heart every time.

Wrecker is tall. Standing at 6 feet six, it makes him not the most ideal guiding companion.

If he’s guiding you himself, sometimes, unintentionally, his elbow might knock against your head, for which he is immediately aware of, and instantly apologetic. 

He will always stop, large hands gently cradling the sides of your face as he looks you over, worried that even the slightest bump from him could leave a bruise. Regardless of what he finds, though, he’ll always lean down, dropping a kiss to your forehead with a soft, “m sorry, meshla.”

His solution to this problem, however, is a tad bit unconventional. 

When confronted with a situation where it’s just more efficient for him to guide you, for example, a street blocked off by construction, taped off areas and pylons everywhere, instead of offering you something like his hand or his wrist to hold, he simply reaches down, scoops you up into his arms and carries you over his shoulder until you’ve both cleared the obstacles together, you letting out a surprised squeak and giggling all the while.

Wrecker finds you beautiful, every day, all the time, and he is constant with his reminders of that.

As a blind person, it can be more difficult to coordinate a whole outfit, look, hair, and make up. He is so appreciative, and loves if you do that. But, if you’re one of those blind people who never learned how to do make up, who isn’t as confident in their sense of personal style, and you feel a little bit self-conscious about how much, or how little, in your opinion, effort you put into your look when you’re going out on a date with him, he will quickly assuage your fears the minute he catches wind of them.

He’s very good at detecting those days where you’re not feeling good about your appearance, just intuitively sensing when you’re having a bit of an off day, and when you could use a reminder of how beautiful and precious you are to him. He knows he can’t magically change your mind.

But he can  tell you about all the things he finds attractive about you, every day, if you need that reminder.

He’ll tell you of each one, each part of you that he finds beautiful beyond belief, while taking the time to softly caress and kiss each one, with whispered affirmations of “Such a pretty little thing,” and “You’re perfect, cyar, absolutely perfect.”

And if that’s not enough, he’ll keep going, keep moving downwards until he can look up at your beautiful face, watching from in between your parted thighs as your lips form equally beautiful noises for him.

*

Crosshair🩷 

It isn’t that Crosshair doesn’t want to help you. It’s just that, honestly, he’s a little bit hesitant to, in the beginning, fearing that he might overstep, because he places such a high value on choice, and respects your independence and autonomy to much to question you and your abilities.

He trusts that, if you need his help, you’ll come to him and ask. He also trusts that you’ve been living with blindness for a long time, maybe even since birth, and you’re aware enough to know your boundaries and limits, trusting that you’ll advocate when you need him to help with one of those limits.

Just because he doesn’t help you as much in the physical sense, does not mean he isn’t your number one advocate, because he absolutely is. 

For example, if you’re a guide dog user, and you both are going out together using a ride sharing app. If the driver refuses to let you in they’re speeder because of your service dog, he will wait patiently for you to explain, analyzing every micro expression of the driver and knowing when they’re still not listening to you, and he will step in without hesitation.

Wearing his most menacing glare, and in a voice that is deadly calm, he will absolutely read them the riot act. He knows every law regarding your guide dog, and knows just how properly to phrase them in a way that will make the driver scared, usually when he mentions the 5000 credits fine they could be sued for not denying you access 

He’s also keeping his eyes out to make sure that no one distracts your dog, and isn’t afraid to directly confront anyone who tries, saying something snarky like, “You know, maybe you’re the one who needs a guide dog, if you can’t read the don’t pet me sign that’s right in front of your face,” paired with a signature eye roll.

They always back away stuttering, and it always makes you laugh, even as you gently rebuke him, saying “Cross, that was a bit rude.”

He scowls, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him as he responds.

“And you, sweet girl, are too nice,” he purrs lowly against your ear. But, with the way that he begins to nuzzle at your neck, you don’t really think it bothers him that much.

If you’re one of those blind people who feels like asking for help is just burdening other people with your problems, and would rather risk facing the consequences by trying to do something yourself, rather than ask for help, he will find out, and he will not be pleased in the slightest. 

Your stubbornness is something that he loves about you. But if it has a tendency to go too far, especially if you’re putting yourself in harms way, that adoration will quickly turn to frustration.

For example, one time, you both were staying at a place that had a glass topped stove. 

These things are so inaccessible for blind people, it’s not even funny. But rather than admit defeat and let him cook dinner, you decided that you could figure it out, and gave it your best shot. 

Your best shot ended with you trying to line up the pot with the burner, and very quickly, receiving a searing burn on your hand from touching the heat. 

You had not anticipated it getting that hot that fast , and as you quickly pull your hand away, tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you let out a pained hiss.

““what are you doing?”

He had materialized behind you from seemingly out of nowhere, voice a silky, yet tensed coil as he reaches around you carefully, quickly flicking off the burner before long, dextrous fingers wrap  around your wrist, still gentle, even as he insistently pulls your hand away from where you’ve been clutching it to your chest, eyes keenly examining the burn with a soft frown on his face.

Wordlessly, he guides you over to the kitchen sink, hand on the small of your back, turning the water on cold and carefully placing your injured hand beneath the stream. 

Only then does he come to stand in front of you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders, his expression hard as he looks down at you. 

“What were you thinking, cyar?” He grits out, voice almost a growl as he tries to understand. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I could have helped and prevented this,” he gestures to your hand. “From happening.”

You blame the trembling in your voice on the lingering throbbing ache in your hand.

“I’m s sorry. I I thought that I could figure it out. You were busy, and I didn’t want to bother you B because I’m scared that I burden you with all the help I need sometimes and.”

“Stop,” he cuts you off in one quick, decisive syllable, and you instantly fall silent.

He tilts your chin up with one hand, guiding your eyes to look at him. His lips form a thin line when he sees the glimmer of unshed tears there. When he next speaks, his voice is still firm, but there is an underlying gentleness and softening in his tone. It has lost its hard edge, and it’s protective bite.

“You are not a burden, to anyone, but especially to me.”

“But,” you try to interject, but he easily silences you, taking your face in both of his hands and cradling it gently.

“Shh, cyar, listen to me,” he says, his voice a quiet command.

“If you are a burden, then you are my burden. In the same way that I am yours.” He takes your uninjured hand in his, relaxing his fingers against yours,  allowing you to feel it’s tremors.

Oh.

It’s been so long since his hand has shaken like this. He’s worked so hard to try and work through this particular trauma, and though it hasn’t completely gone away, it only begins to tremble during moments of high stress. You flush with shame, realizing that this moment of high stress is completely on you.

“I know what you’re doing, and stop it,” he says, voice stern, squeezing your hand in a silent warning. “Look at me, cyar’ika,” he continues, voice softening.

When you do, he continues. “If we are each other’s burdens, then we take care of each other, together. Do you understand me?”

You nod, actually stunned into complete silence at his proclamation.

“Good,” he says, voice softening further. He leans forward, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, fingers gently caressing the side of your neck as he pulls back.

He gives you a playful nudge as he smirks.

“Don’t ever try something like that again, cyar,” he quips with a scowl. “Your eyes already don’t work, and if you lose one of your hands, you’re completely fucked.”

All the levity of the moment vanishes, and it ends with your face pulling into a smile, a soft laugh falling from your parted lips as he watches you, eyes filled with adoration.

[tragedy-for-sale]

Bedrock Headcannons: Obi-Wan Kenobi

Bedrock headcannons are headcannons that I regard as a fact in the personality of a character I write about. They range from small details to a huge part of a character's backstory. These headcannons are a constant underlayer in all of my fics that involve these characters.

﹄『❝ Obi-Wan ❞』﹃

He cut his hair shortly after the war begun because Anakin made a comment he looked like Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan couldn't handle it.

Obi-Wan is very quiet and not just in the sense of him not talking a whole lot. But his steps, the swoosh of his robe, the smile in his eyes. He moves with grace which results in many people being taken off guard when he's in the room, as if he just appears. But he's also quiet in the way that you'd never know he was crying if you couldn't see his face, quiet in the way of showing love through always having snacks on him for Anakin, Ahsoka or any of his men. Whoever asks him first. He's quiet in pain and agony, in love and passion.

Obi-Wan feels extremely bittersweet about Dooku. He remembered how highly Qui-Gon regarded him, how they'd go catch up at a diner and how Obi-Wan always begged to go. He never knew the Dooku that Qui-Gon did and Obi-Wan has a hard time understanding how his master was trained by someone so vile. Everytime he faces the Count, he remembers Qui-Gon, and he remembers how much his master cared for this man that is trying to kill him.

He loves Coruscant in the rain. When he was younger, Qui-Gon would take him up to the roof of the temple and they'd talk until they could see stars. But if it was raining, they'd be outside splashing each other until they were soaked.

He doesn't go up there as often anymore, but the first year after Qui-Gon's death, Obi-Wan was missing all day. It was Quinlan Vos who found him, he was the only person still alive that knew about his hiding place.

Obi-Wan's 18th birthday was spent out on the streets of Coruscant. He snuck out with Quinlan Vos and Kit Fisto. The three ran into trouble and at the stroke of midnight, Obi-Wan was in tears, desperately hoping his friends would find him.

He was sent to Mandalore with Qui-Gon soon after.

Obi-Wan will go get tea with Padme when Anakin is still out in space. He doesn't say he checks on Padme to Anakin, but he'll say he caught Padme and they chatted for a while and that she's doing well.

During down time, he wears heavy robes because Obi-Wan is cold all the time. Especially when on the Negotiatior. If he's able, he'll always go sit in the sun, feeling the warmth on his face.

As the war progresses, the toll of it starts to affect him more and more. He starts to feel things more deeply then he ever had and he finds himself drowning constantly. Fear he's never known paralyzes him and he can't talk to anyone because there's nothing anyone can do. He's going to drown and he can see all the people he loves playing in the water not noticing he's been swept up by the tide.

Dex's Diner has been Obi-Wan's place for years, he brings only the most important people in his life there. Dex basically watched Obi-Wan grow up, he knows his favorite book, his deepest pain and insecurities, and how many times he's fallen in love.

Obi-Wan takes Cody anytime they're on Coruscant for leave. One night, it was late and after close, but it was in that little worn down diner that Obi-Wan and Cody celebrated their marriage, slow dancing to whatever jukebox tune was playing and holding each other tight.

After Order 66 happens, Cody feels drawn to the diner, he sits there for hours. Dex knows better to assume the identity of this helmeted man, but he always sits in Obi-Wan's booth and watches the door, expecting the love of his life to walk right in and apologize for being late. But Obi-Wan never comes, and there is never an apology.

﹄『❝ Obi-Wan ❞』﹃

[carrion-art]

CG headcannon:

Thorn is haunted by MILFs. If there is a hot mom within 3 kilometers they *will* find him, and they *will* flirt with him.

he Does Not Handle it Well

[dreamswithghosts]

Bad Batch x One Bed Trope

Prompt: You and the Bad Batch were on a mission and things went differently than planned. You and [Insert Desired Clone] got separated from the rest of the batch. You were told that they had escaped off-world and would return in one rotation to come and get you two. So you two find a motel to camp up in. Tired from the mission you accept the first room that was available and the cheapest. You two go to the room only to discover that there is only one bed. How will this pan out with the two of you have been pining for each other but not realizing it?

Notes: This is Gender Neutral friendly!

Hunter

Both of you just stand by the door shocked for a moment, taking in the room. 

"I can sleep on the floor if you want." Hunter offered first, throwing his bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

You instantly shake your head not wanting the higher-ranking sergeant to be sleeping on the floor, "No, I can't let you do that. I can sleep on the floor." 

"Don't worry about me, I've slept in worse places." Hunter was not budging. 

You had to come up with a compromise realizing he was going to be stubborn about this. You quickly realize that no matter what, you will be sleeping on the bed. 

But what if it wasn't just you in the bed? 

"Well, the bed is quite big. What if we both sleep in the bed?" 

Hunter looks genuinely surprised, but reluctantly agrees that was probably the best solution. 

Both of you get ready to go to sleep crawling into bed and keeping a respectful distance between the two of you. 

When the lights go out, your anxieties from today's mission start to grow in your mind. 

It doesn't take Hunter long to realize you are nowhere near falling to falling asleep.

"What's wrong?" His voice is quiet as if he had found you after one of your nightmares and the two of you were trying to keep quiet to not wake the others. 

"Do you think the others are okay?" 

"They should be fine."

The two of you talk quietly to each other about the mission and what is to come next. Quietly talking into the late hours of the night about anything and everything. 

His voice slowly calms your nerves and you start finding yourself relaxing. 

After a moment, Hunter spoke softly again, “Can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

Hunter reached out into the darkness for you without any more words and quietly pulled you closer to him. 

You were surprised at first, but you trust him enough to wrap his arms around you and hold you close to his body. 

“I’ve wanted to do this since we first met you.” He buried his nose into the nape of your neck, his arms wrapped around your torso as your legs tangled with his. 

You smile into the night, finding his hands and entwining his fingers with yours. You pressed yourself back up against him, “Me too.”

You were quick to fall asleep in his arms, Hunter falling asleep just as fast, holding onto you. 

Wrecker

"Oh, this could be fun!"

You are stunned by Wrecker's excitement that there is only one bed in this room, "What?"

"This can be like one of those sleepovers you told me about! We could stay up late and eat snacks and watch movies!"

He somehow made you laugh and feel a bit better about the whole experience. He was moving around the room excitedly putting all the gear away. 

"I'll go get some snacks! You stay here and start picking out a movie." 

"Be careful, please. They might still be out looking for us." You voiced your concern, considering you two just got finished with a mission. 

He just gave you a dazzling smile, telling you he would be fine. 

You got ready for bed, staying to one side respectfully looking through the movies to watch. 

Wrecker returned quickly, his arms full of all kinds of different foods.

He practically jumped on the bed, the frame groaning from his weight making you laugh. 

"What do you want to watch?" You asked him as he settled himself in the bed, laying out all of the snacks he managed to get. 

"Something fun." 

You nodded, eventually picking out a movie for the two of you to watch and grabbing from Wrecker's food pile to snack on your own.

Not long into the movie, you felt Wrecker's strong hands on your hips, pulling you into his lap. 

You weren't surprised at the physical affection, Wrecker being the one to show that type of affection the most. 

You relaxed into his lap, your head resting back on his shoulder. 

His warmth quickly pulled you to sleep, with Wrecker turning the movie off and wrapping his arms around you, and falling asleep with you.

Tech

You were stunned when you saw only one bed in the room. 

Tech took a moment looking between the bed and his holo pad. 

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting this.” He stated, moving to put down everything the two of you had. 

“Do you think one of us should sleep on the floor?”

Tech paused what he was doing looking at the bed, “I don’t think that is necessary. The bed is plenty big for the both of us to have our own respective space.” 

You were honestly surprised he was so calm about the entire thing, watching him go back to putting away and organizing your and his things. 

"You don't have a problem with sleeping in the same bed with me?" 

"Why would I?" 

You had no more words for him and decided that this was okay. So you got ready for bed, settling yourself in with your own holo pad. 

Tech joined you not long, the both of you staying in silence with your own devices.

"Hey look at this," Tech said after a moment, leaning over to show you what was on his device. 

You found yourself smiling and scooting closer to Tech in the bed, "That actually reminds me of something." 

You show him something on your holo pad and before you know it the two of you are quietly sharing information with each other. 

Throughout the conversation of showing each other things from your devices, you realized the two of you got close enough in bed where his shoulder was pressed up to yours. 

Deciding to make a small leap of faith, you laid your head on his shoulder. Tech was unphased, still currently showing you what had interested him on his holo pad.

You don't know when, but you fell asleep like this, with your head on his shoulder. 

You woke up hours later to discover that Tech had fallen asleep as well. His arms wrapped around you with his cheek resting on top of your head. 

His holo pad was squished between the two of you. 

You smile feeling completely warm and comfortable, minus the hard device digging into your skin.

You carefully pull it out from between the two of you, laying his holo pad on the bed next to your own. 

You happily cuddled up closer to Tech, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your cheek against his chest.

Echo

Both of you pause for a moment, staring at the room with only one bed. 

"I guess we can both sleep in it or would you rather I sleep on the floor?" Echo spoke after a while, "I don't mind. I've slept in worse places." 

You shook your head instantly saying no to Echo sleeping on the floor. He had already been through so much, the idea of him sleeping on the cold hard floor did not sit well with you. 

"We can sleep together. The bed is big enough." You offered. 

"Are you sure?" Your comfort was obviously the main concern for you. 

"Yeah. I'm fine." You assured him.

The two of you settle into the bed, keeping a respectful distance between the two of you. 

Echo ends up finding the holo drama the two of you have been watching when you got some downtime. The two of you decide to watch at least one episode. 

“Oh come on. This is a classic trope. Watch, because she’s now in the hospital, he is suddenly going to tell her his feelings about her.”

“Actually I think he’s going to try to tell her, but then feel guilty because she’s hurt. So he decides against telling her. Especially if there are family members in the room.” 

You ended up being right, the both of you softly laughing over the whole thing. 

You started to feel cold, wrapping the blanket around you and starting to shiver, and Echo noticed.

“Are you cold?” He sounds concerned. You shake your head no, but then your body betrays you and starts to shiver. 

Echo reaches over, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, and pulling you to him. His legs are surprisingly warm, the machinery of his legs under covers staying warm compared to when you’ve felt them out on a mission and they were cold. 

“You’re like a heater.” You muttered instantly curling up against him seeking out his warmth.

“Yeah. It surprised me too. My guess is when I’m covered, the airflow seems to get circulated less thus heat. Almost like if you leave a computer on while running a program that's intensive on the CPU.”

“I guess that makes sense. Have you ever overheated?”

Echo shook his head no. 

The two of you focused back on the holo drama you were watching. Once the first episode was over, Echo asked if you wanted to watch another. 

You fell asleep curled up against Echo’s side with your head on his shoulder watching the second episode. Echo was quick to follow suit with his arms wrapped around you.

Crosshair

“Well I guess you are going to be sleeping on the floor,” Crosshair teased the second he saw that there was only one bed in the room. 

“What? No! You are the one who’s going to sleep on the floor.” 

“No, I’m going to be sleeping in the bed.” 

“No, I’m going to be sleeping in the bed!”

“Well, I guess we will have to sleep together then,” Crosshair smirked, putting his things away first and then moving to help you, by just taking your things. 

“Fine.” You huffed already tired from the mission today. You would rather have fewer arguments, “Just don’t get handsy with me. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“Been around more than you have.” 

“Oh, and that makes you a better person?”

Crosshair just snorts in response. He starts getting ready for bed and you decide to follow his lead. 

The two of you get into the bed, keeping a fair distance between each other. 

“Well, goodnight then.” you sigh and turn off the lights, settling yourself in under the covers. You just hear a small grunt from Crosshair.

It takes you a little to fall asleep, but you eventually do. It was a lot faster than normal considering the fact you had another person in the bed with you. 

In the middle of the night, you wake up feeling a lot warmer. Actually, you feel really warm. 

Throughout the night, Crosshair had inched his way over to you, resting his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around your torso. He held onto you like you were a lifeline in his sleep. 

You found yourself smiling and slowly wrapping your arms around him as well, feeling very comfortable with him here like this with you. You quickly fall back asleep, hugging him to your chest.

If you are interested in joining a pinglist for my writings, feel free to let me know!

[clonemommy]

Between Duty and Emotions

Pairing: Commander Neyo x GNReader

Word Count: 230

Authors Note: A short idea for Neyo <3

-----

The BARC speeder’s engines hummed quietly as Commander Neyo travelled through the barren wasteland of Raxus Prime. The battle was over, the mission completed, but he felt strangely empty. Duty - that was all he knew.

He stopped abruptly as a familiar figure stood in front of him. You. His chest tightened involuntarily.

‘You’re hurt,’ you stated, your eyes piercing his iron façade.

‘It’s nothing,’ he murmured and was about to continue, but you stepped closer, placing a hand on his armoured shoulder.

‘Neyo, I know you. You can run away from anything, but not from me.’

He fell silent. The clones were not designed for emotions. But when it came to you - he felt. More than he should. More than he allowed himself to. His feelings for you were a storm raging within, threatening to break his carefully constructed facade.

As your fingertips gently stroked his cheek, he inhaled sharply. His helmet lay in the dust, exposing the man behind the cold façade. Your closeness made him forget who he was supposed to be.

‘Stay,’ you breathed.

His fingers closed around your wrist - firmly. He should have said no. But instead, he pulled you closer until your foreheads touched.

‘Just a moment,’ he whispered.

And in that one moment, he wasn’t Commander Neyo; he was just Neyo.

End ❤

[cerucerus-main]

Do the jedi have like. the star wars equivalent of sword dances? I mean lightsaber fights already look like dances, but like what about the ones that are actually intended to be dances? like imagine dancing with a lightsaber- that would be sooo pretty to look at. I imagine that obi-wan isn't like super good or an expert or anything, but there's a couple that he knows and loves and does really well, especially when he's on his own. Qui-gon was really good at many and taught him to do them and it stuck, and on those nights he was grieving he just dances listening to the force. Nobody dances quite like obi-wan, though. Like he doesn't know a lot of dances but he's really really good on the ones he does know, and plus points to the fact that obi-wan is probably also musically inclined.

Anakin is really good, too, like qui-gon, he caught it much more easily than obi-wan did. It probably started out as him accidentally seeing obi-wan do it when he was younger, and then trying to emulate and failing lmao, and then it became like, and alternative way of meditating for Anakin? like at some point Obi-wan realized that dance could totally work as a way of moving meditation and decided to teach anakin himself and enroll him in classes, and I think anakin would really get into it especially during the war. Padme would like it, she has an eye for stuff like this so sometimes she helps point out details to anakin.

Ahsoka learns from anakin because anakin is definitely the type to add sword dance into ahsoka's curiculum, but he prefers teaching her himself because he just so happens to be really good at it. Ahsoka would like it! like she's not as into it as anakin is but sometimes she practices when there's a lot on her mind or like, when she wants to show the clones what she learned. oh, the clones would absolutely enjoy watching ahsoka dance, and ahsoka would totally convince anakin to do it with her. Sometimes they'd convince obi wan. When she leaves the order she still practices, it's her way of staying connected even though she'd never come to realize it herself. And when (if?) the whole oder 66 thing happens, the sword dance is one of the few jedi culture bits that not many outside of the order knows, and she preserves it.

I like to think that she'll teach luke, one day. like maybe directly, or maybe she'll leave him a set of holo-recordings that he finds, and then luke would try to emulate and learn, and because he's Padme's and Anakin's son, he'd catch on and learn quickly. It won't be a perfect imitation, so Luke just uses his gut (the force) and adds new bits into the missing portions of the dance. He'd teach leia too, like leia is not super interested as luke is, but this specific aspect is actually super fascinating to her, so maybe she'll learn a bit, while also assisting him in doing some research about it. It surprised her how it helps her clear her mind.

[corvoqueen]

Random Anakin Thoughts

Anakin would so be the type to just randomly go. “Who’s your daddy?” With the fattest smirk on his face. Like every time he walks into a room with you in there. Especially after he’s back from a mission or something. Like your sitting on the couch of your shared apartment, lost in your little world. He sneaks up on you with the most shit eating grin.

[youeverjustmarryabountyhunter]

Recently became obsessed with cowboy au's again so I did what any reasonable person would do and made a silly Clone Wars au for pure self indulgence.

Please enjoy my silly little headcannons and maybe one day I'll actually write the thing (I've said this several times before...but one day!)

•Usually with modern au's I try to justify why Jango has so many damn kids but not this time. The man just does okay? Also he's not attracted to women so like..who knows! My favorite plot point is Jango just has a bunch of kids and no one knows why and they just have to accept that

•Jango/Myles supremacy. They're married, thank you. Silas is their third wheel that's just always sorta there.

•Good dad Jango! Always good dad Jango. I just love him okay? It's like a little treat for myself.

•Ages are like...semi...cannon? For the clones the alphas are all adults, as are the commanders. After that, Rex, Kix, Jesse and whoever else I deem to be in that like age range- are 18/19/20. Domino squad, are teenagers. Tup, Dogma, Wooley, Comet are like..ranging from preteen's to 8. Boba is the baby at 3 years old. Don't ask me about Omega or the bad batch please I haven't decided what I'm doing with them yet, probably gonna make them Arla's kiddos like the other modern au of mine. These are also like..just a general guidelines of ages I haven't really fleshed anything out.

•Boba LOVES animals. It's a good thing they live on a farm. He just..befriends all of the animals even the ones that he isn't supposed to (raccoons) Jango nearly had a heart attack. Boba was fine though, just a little grumpy that Jango took him away from the raccoon.

•It's a miracle Boba knows how to walk because he's just constantly being carried/demanding to be carried. If he has the option to be in someone's arms he will be. Spoiled little thing. Honestly all of the Fett kids are probably spoiled, but they like to tease Boba about it cause he's the baby.

•Real talk though, I think Boba is a little sweety. He just loves his aliit(family) so much and wants to spend all his time with them.

•Mando'a is a language because I said so. Mandalorians are still a culture. That's just my go to for all modern au's tbh.

•Jaster is the best grandpa EVER. He's the reason they're all spoiled. Auntie Zam ALSO spoils them rotten. Uncle Bossk does as well it's just a lot less. Hondo...is Hondo let's be honest here. They're spoiled sure but Jango would really like to know WHERE Hondo got everything from (he would not like the answer)

•I haven't figured out how or anything but Codywan IS happening. Same with Blyla (is that Aayla and Bly's ship name?? Gonna pretend it is-)

•In the vain of keeping ages semi cannon Fennec is 19 and a farmhand 👌. She's like..not legally adopted but she might as well be. Jango's baby girl right there. Boba follows her around like a puppy and it only annoys her a little. She's definitely the reason he knows bad words let's be honest.

•I'm leaning towards most face tattoos are just birthmarks. As far as names go those are just their names. No one ever said Jango was good at naming things. Isn't there a comic in legends where they have a pet eel and it's name is just eel?

•Everything I know about 3 year olds comes from the times I have babysat actually 3 year olds and google. So in that spirit, Boba does have a paci in the art depicted below simple because I wanted to draw a pacifier- but Jango is also trying to ween him off it so he doesn't mess up his teeth.

This au has consumed me like..ugh I'm obsessed with it. There may or may not be a pinterest board just entirely dedicated to it. You don't understand how in love with this silly little au I am-

If you made it this far through the post- have some traditional art that may or may not get turned digital eventually! (There was one of Myles and Jango but I literally cannot decide on Myles hairstyle and couldn't erase it anymore for fear of ripping the paper so...)

Join me next time (maybe-) for when I inevitably think of more headcannons for this au.

In order: Jango and Boba, Jango braiding Fennec's hair, and Cody!

[graylinesspam]

Most people's hands develop calluses from wielding their lightsaber. Ahsoka has seen thousands of them. Puckering skin along the tops of their palms. Raised patches of skin across the side of their thumbs

There were differences between species, like the way that wookiee skin polishes to a near shine when it's worn against. Or the way the aquatic species scales would wear away until rough scar tissue replaced them.

But Anakin's metal arm was incapable of wearing in the same way that flesh does. Given the choice between which metal he wanted to be stronger Anakin chose his hand. The grip on his lightsaber is made of some common alloy, something cheap and easy to replace. It's not a soft metal by any means simply softer than his hand. So the place where his fingers grasp it has worn shallow grooves in.

Ahsoka turns the hilt around in her hands analyzing the way his hands slide along the shaft as he wields his weapon.

She can see the shape of his fingers in the marks, the places he grips harder are worn roughly, tension scratches catching on the lines across the pads of her fingers. But there are other lines worn smooth and reflective. She's sure those are marks from his thumb sliding along the length of it when he switches his stances.

His hand is so strong. Strong enough to swing around the heavy lightsaber. Strong enough to wear away at the metal.

Your lightsaber is your life.

Ahsoka holds Anakin's in her hands.

She wishes she didn't. Wishes she never had to. She hates this part of their relationship. Being a padawan means being responsible for your master as much as they are for you. If he wasn't so reckless. If they weren't in a war. If the council would only take their lives more seriously. If she were stronger. better.

She's in the bargaining stage now. She can feel that.

She hates sitting beside his bed. Anakin was supposed to be strong. Stronger than her. Better than her. How was she supposed to hold his life in her hands. They were so much smaller. So much weaker than his. And he was so much. So much personality. So much presence in the force. So much responsibility.

She has no idea how Obi-wan carried him and the responsibility of being a master.

The weight of it is as heavy as his lightsaber in her hand.

But she will carry it. Until he's strong enough to wake again and take it from her. A jedi's lightsaber is their life. And so long as he is unconscious Ahsoka will care for it. She will guard it. The way a padawan is supposed to.

Force knows Anakin has done it plenty of times for her.

Headcannon that Jedi lightsabers are never supposed to be put down. It's bad luck and general bad safe guarding practice for them to be unattended anywhere outside of the temple. So partners are trained to look after each other's lightsabers if they are ever incapacitated. Regardless of what kind of partnership it is.

But padawans and masters especially practice this and it's like a huge trust building exercise.

[blackholesun321]

I just want everyone to know unless explicitly stated otherwise Fox will always in my heart be a red head, in any and every fic I read of Him!!!

And in every fic I write if not stated or he isn’t mentioned, know somewhere out in the big wide Star Wars universe, probably drinking out of a permanently stained ‘worlds best dad’ mug written over in pink glitter sharpie to say commander. Fox will be living his worst life with his twizzler ass hair!