#tbb oc canvas

[fwitolei]

Cold - Bad Batch Oneshot

Summary: Mayday and his men find it difficult to withstand the harsh conditions of Barton 4.

Word Count: 812

Original Character: Canvas, Checkmate, Flame

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Mayday gritted his teeth as another gust of freezing wind tore through his armor. It was another freezing night on Barton 4, just like the night he and his squad first landed on this planet. The Empire had ordered that they protect a shipment of precious cargo, for the contents of the crates were imperative for the Empire’s growth. Mayday didn’t know whether to fully believe that, considering he didn’t know exactly what he was protecting.

There were many variables to this operation, from the subzero temperatures and hostile creatures to malfunctioning equipment that insurgents used to their advantage to get the upper hand. It seemed like every week rebels were sneaking into the outpost, stealing cargo, and killing clones to the point where Mayday had to set up a schedule determining who would stay at the outpost’s edge on watch and for how long. Shifts were getting longer as he lost more men, and he didn’t know how long before they were all killed off.

“Commander,” Veetch’s voice blared through Mayday’s helmet. “Commander, come in!”

“What is it?” Mayday answered, jamming his finger into the loose comm button at his ear. His voice cracked with lack of use, his mouth dry. He made a mental note to check the water filter back at base.

“It’s Canvas. I think… I think he’s dying.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Mayday’s chest tightened as he sighed, the cold air freezing his lungs. “I’m headed in now.”

Mayday trudged through the snow, the icy ground swallowing his legs with every step. He switched to a public channel and said, “Back to base, men. Something’s up with Canvas.”

A flurry of acknowledgments filled Mayday’s helmet. He looked up to see three other clones tramping toward base, some shaking the snow from their armor. One trooper bounded toward Mayday, asking, “What’s with Canvas? Is he okay?”

Checkmate. Mayday placed a hand on the clone’s shoulder and said “I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just sick again. He’ll push though, he always does.”

Mayday didn’t have to see Checkmate’s face to know the trooper wasn’t so sure. Flame and Hexx caught up to them, and the four clones entered the base together. The stronghold was dark inside, with stacks upon stacks of crates almost reaching the ceilings. A protocol droid walked by, carrying cargo here and there. The four clones found Veetch standing beside Canvas, who was bundled up in a multitude of ponchos and stray cloth.

“I did the best I could, Commander,” Veetch said, his voice strained. “But I don’t think he’s gonna make it.”

Murmurs drifted through the room as Mayday’s men whispered amongst themselves. Checkmate balled his hands into fists, turning to the nearest protocol droid. “You! Come here, he needs a medic!”

The protocol droid froze in his tracks and stared at Checkmate. “I am not a medical droid. It is not part of my programming.”

“Then find someone—!” Mayday cut Checkmate off with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Check,” Mayday said, locking his gaze on his brother. Checkmate stared at Mayday, then at the protocol droid. 

“But—”

“There’s nothing we can do except send him off. We’d be doing more harm keeping him alive.”

Checkmate shuddered from something other than the cold. Mayday gently led him back to the others, who were surrounding the dying clone. “Commander?” Canvas shuttered. He raised his hand an inch from the blanketed mound he lay on, only for it to fall limp at his side. Mayday took Canvas’s arm, squeezing his hand.

“You’re gonna be alright, brother,” Mayday said. “It’s just a cold.”

A weak chuckle escaped Canvas’s lips. “No kidding, Commander. Is… Is backup here?”

“They’re coming,” Mayday answered. He saw Checkmate step forward in his peripheral, moving to grab Canvas’s other hand, but Flame held him back. Hexx placed a hand on Checkmate’s shoulder as the tears streamed down Checkmate’s face. Checkmate had been assigned to Mayday’s squad along with Canvas, and they spent every waking moment looking out for each other. It was always hard for Checkmate when a brother left him, but this one might hit hardest.

“Commander…” Canvas started again, attempting to sit up. His elbow slipped out from beneath him, and he fell back with a grunt. “Commander, I—”

“Easy, soldier,” Mayday said. Checkmate sobbed behind him. He’s so weak. “You’re gonna be alright.”

“My drawings…”  Canvas strained. He let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes as a small smile played on his lips. “My drawings… give them to Checkmate, yeah?”

“Sure thing, shiny,” Mayday answered, tears welling up in his eyes. Canvas’s chest fell slowly as Mayday pressed his fingers to Canvas’s wrist. No pulse.

Mayday placed Canvas’s hand on the shiny’s chest before standing. The other five clones watched as he lifted a hand to his face and wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Sure thing.”

Canvas, Checkmate, and Flame are original clone characters I came up with for the sake of the story since we only saw Hexx and Veetch in 2x12 “The Outpost". Feel free to use them in your own stories/art/whatnot, but make sure you credit me :P

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Sentences For WIPs, Round Two

Thanks for the tag to play again @523rdrebel 🩷 - helps me remember to do a round two of all the WIPs I have that didn't fit in the first one! [Once again I'll be tweaking how I play to add a sentence for each vote for every WIP that gets voted for since I have so. Many. WIPs.]

Rules: Make a 24-hour poll including every WIP you want to work on, and have people vote for one of those WIPs. Then once voting has concluded, you write one sentence for every vote of the WIP that received the most amount of votes.

What else is Frost cooking? Have another taste below!

Laundry on the Line: As the six newest refugees to Pabu, Clone Force 99 moves in next door to a friendly and not to mention remarkably helpful Pabu native, the respective homes and yard space separated by a single, low fence. Everything from morning chores to supplying the extra egg they needed to make dinner, their neighbor offers a helping hand again and again. While a certain ARC trooper is plenty capable of contributing to keeping-house and other related tasks, Echo can't deny that for some things (like hanging up clean laundry on the line) you may not be able to avoid needing an extra set of hands.

Where The Wildest Stars Grow: Angst with a happy ending; mostly told from Wrecker's POV. A joint mission between a recently-Knighted Jedi's unit and Clone Force 99 experiences an attack from Separatist forces stronger than expected that forces the Jedi to call for a retreat if she has any hope of saving her soldiers. In the process of buying her men time, the new general is critically injured; Wrecker is the only soldier available to come to the rescue. He takes up a new, unfamiliar weapon in a desperate bid to keep her safe until help arrives. And somehow: it works.

This is Blue Vulture Tower, Over: Modern AU "loosely" inspired by the adventure game Firewatch. [May well be a crossover by time it's finished!] Crosshair picks up a summer job as a fire lookout for Coruscant Forest National Park, finding himself struggling to adjust to civilian life after serving for several years in the military. He is given command of Blue Vulture Tower, and has to report to the man known to the other rangers and lookouts by "Gray Fox", manning a tower of the same name. It's not long before Cross learns the Gray Fox is a veteran like himself, and he goes by Mayday. The two vets become verbal pen-pals through cassette tapes when they aren't using the radio, because there are just some matters that are best discussed without having someone accidentally listening-in. Together, they work through some of their experiences in the service while Cross navigates the new nature of his relationship to his brothers and recently adopted(?) sister.

Maker As My Witness: A fresh marriage facing trouble due to an unusual source, Boba, recently-(self)made Daimyo, finds himself making strange and out-of-character promises in his many attempts to assure you of just how much he loves you. Even if it means that it comes to letting you go. You keep dreaming of finding yourself leaving Boba for the stoic, hired gun that was here recently; and it's causing you just as much distress. (It's not like Mando did anything in particular to create this new and rather sudden way you've been feeling about him, lately. Nor did you. All Mando did was help him with a job for one of the native Tusken tribes; this is simply curiosity that has spiraled way out of control.) Together the two of you promise the other a great deal of patience in the time it takes to weather out this passing storm.

Names Are For Tombstones: In the light of a soured job, you and Din have to stick together longer than planned. Much, much longer. Only, you don't actually know the name of the man making up the other half of your prolonged partnership. And he's sure as hell not telling you anytime soon, either. That "beautiful beskar bastard" is playing coy and taking his sweet, sweet time...

Brothers & Batchmates Pt. 3: Third installment in the B&B arc of my OC storyline; Canvas and the group of batchmates (+ friends) he's been adopted into are getting one step closer to a rocky reunion with the troubled "middle child" of the batch, Scuffle. He's mouthy, rude, and is no stranger to picking fights among those he should be calling "brother". After being reassigned to two different units, the last being the 104th Battalion, Scuffle has been returned to his original deployment in hopes that if he is going to look after himself, then maybe the brothers that knew him best will do it for him. Something that Canvas can strongly relate to.

Flowers For A Brute: [Unofficial title.] Savage and his brothers, down on their luck, finally seem to be treated with the galaxy's favor once again when a humble botanist offers them a more proper place to stay when she finds the three of them hiding out in her greenhouse in the middle of the winter. She never turns the Zabrak brothers in, seeing as unlike all the silk-soft flower petals and delicate-looking plants she surrounds herself with, there's a bit of a thorny history to her, too. One she'd rather keep buried with bag upon bag of potting soil. Safe to begin planning their next moves, Savage takes to sneaking off in hopes of growing his own green thumb with a little of the botanist's guidance.

Of Honeysuckle and Haiku, Part 2: [Unofficial title.] Follow-up to Of Honeysuckle and Haiku. Generously taking you to Naboo, like you've always dreamed of, Tech finds (and creates) a bit of pressure to keep planning more and more elaborate dates now that the loth-cat is out of the bag and the two of you don't have to behave quite so professionally like before. Thankfully his brothers are there not only to cheer him on from the sidelines, but to set Tech on straight; only when he really needs it. And over-thinking the very first date certainly counts as needing it.

Wounded Wings: Crashlanding a borrowed shuttle on a remote, neutral world, the Bad Batch are thrown into a rather sticky situation when they're left without transport and a quick way home to the Republic. Luck is on their side however: they can still contact the GAR, and the local people have welcomed CF99 into their village, sharing shelter and food with the soldiers until they can either find or create a way home for themselves. In one of the many efforts to help them, a mildly Force-sensitive woman by the name of Weshla—but better known by "Wing"—agrees to serve as their guide through the dense forests not long after she befriends the squad. Hidden roots will not be the only thing Tech finds himself tripping over the longer he has a chance to get to know the woman who seems to be the unofficial guardian to a living force of nature much, much larger than herself.

[moonstrider9904]

Sing Me Like a Folk Song

Crosshair x Female OC (Clair)

Summary: During a calm night at their cottage, Crosshair and his wife have some time to kill while a cake bakes in the oven.

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: Explicit, Smut, 18+ adults only. Domesticity, TBB canon divergent universe, established relationship and marriage, baking and handling of food, soft smut, PIV sex, creampie, oral sex.

This work is part of the Moonlight universe. If you want to read how Crosshair and Clair got together, you should totally check out that story too!!

Main Masterlist | One-shot Masterlist | Crossposted to AO3

Crosshair stepped forward silently, his former sniper instincts creeping into his movements, and he leaned forward for his head to be at the level of his wife’s. His ever-watchful gaze looked over her shoulder as she poured the batter into the sheet and used an offset spatula to even it out, and then, she added the layer of almond-coffee cream on top of the luscious, white cream cheese filling, smoothing that out too. That was his favorite part to watch when she prepared the cake that had quickly become his favorite.

Like music filling his senses, Clair chuckled as she reached for the cake batter to repeat another layer.

“I can feel you there, Cross,” she mused.

Crosshair smiled, and he set his hands gently on her waist, snaking them around her figure, feeling the fabric of her flower-printed dress and the pale pink apron she wore under his touch. He pressed his tall figure onto her small one and delicately kissed her temple, and he took a deep breath that allowed him to get a whiff of the sugar and butter and coffee and almond. Whenever his wife worked her magic in the kitchen, he felt like he was in heaven, but then again, his entire home, their cottage, their little town, and their planet, would qualify as paradise to anyone.

“Good,” Crosshair replied to Clair’s remark.

She laughed softly again. “I kind of need a full range of motion in my arms for this, Berry Pie.”

“You’re the expert baker, that shouldn’t stop you,” Crosshair tightened his grip around her.

Clair giggled. “That’s what I get for making your favorite cake.”

Crosshair peppered kisses around the side of Clair’s face, with gratitude sprinkled over each one of them, and he smirked into her skin when he felt her cheek becoming plump resulting from her own smile. Clair could ask for nothing more—she already had the two things she loved most in the universe, and when they would be together in one calm night in her cottage, baking a delicious cake as she was held by her beloved husband… it let her know life was good, but it wasn’t as if she ever doubted.

Clair had no reason to doubt since she met Crosshair, smirking at her and devouring her with his gaze that day at the Allium café. And he had been a tough nut to crack, but he’d cracked nonetheless, and the snarky, war-driven sniper now clung to her from behind, eagerly watching as she placed raw batter into a pan all because he’d expressed a craving for something sweet, something other than his beautiful wife.

Like an artist brushing paint over a canvas, Clair swirled the offset spatula and smoothed off the last of the batter, evening it out so that it would bake perfectly in the oven. There was just one more detail left, and from a nearby container, Clair grabbed the lumps of butter, flour, and sugar that she’d made before assembling the cake, and she began to sprinkle them over the top of the raw batter.

Crosshair watched her delicate fingers sprinkling the lumps that would result in an exquisite crumble topping, one of the best parts of the cake beside the creamy, sugary almond filling between the layers of bread, and he felt his mouth watering already. Crosshair then removed one of his hands from Clair’s waist and he reached for the glass container where the rest of the raw crumble topping was, and he took a piece from the container into his mouth, not giving a damn if the flour was raw. A little bit wouldn’t do him any harm, as Clair told him each time she baked something. Clair smiled brightly at what Crosshair had just done, and when she saw his hand reaching for another chunk, she playfully swatted it away with the softest of touches.

“You’ll get a bellyache, love,” she said.

Crosshair chuckled, the sound deep and purring into the curve of Clair’s neck, and he let his lips dance around her skin once more and travel up until they were at the level of hers. Clair turned her head and faced him, and she kissed his lips with a passion not unlike the one shared during their first kiss ever. The seconds they spent kissing felt like one delightful eternity, and when Crosshair broke the kiss to look into her deep brown eyes, he let his inner softness emerge as he smiled at his beloved wife.

“I love you so much,” Crosshair whispered before leaning in again, resuming their kiss. He circled his arms around her waist once more and pulled her closer, and Clair giggled into the kiss, causing his chest to flutter. He loved that sound, and he could listen to it forever. It meant that she was happy and that she felt loved, and that was Crosshair’s single duty for the rest of his life.

At least, until it shared priority with a little one who came into the family.

Clair broke the kiss, giggling breathlessly, and Crosshair smirked at how he was still able to leave her dazed and flustered. Shyly, Clair tucked a strand of her black, silky hair behind her ear, and she reached out to get her oven mittens to then clutch the pan with the raw cake.

“Time to put this in the oven,” she cooed.

“Let me,” Crosshair reached for her hands.

But Clair shook her head in return, always proud of her duty as a baker. “Nope. I got it.”

Crosshair leaned on the counter as he watched Clair moving around the kitchen, from the way she opened the oven to how she took the cake and placed it inside, closing the oven door again and setting the timer down on the counter next to the oven. Crosshair’s gaze scanned every curve of Clair’s body when she bent over to put the cake in and when she straightened back up again, and his heart swole with affection at the intimacy of the sight, suddenly overcome with the need to have his arms around her again. With delicate movements, Clair had removed her oven mittens and cast them aside, and her big brown eyes were on him again as she directed a soft smile his way.

“Now we wait,” Clair said.

Crosshair tilted his head and raised his brows as he smirked, pacing over at Clair and reaching out to hold her waist again. “How long do we have to wait?”

“70 minutes,” Clair replied. “This one’s a slow cooker.”

“Oh,” Crosshair moaned softly, pulling Clair closer and feigning wonder. “70 minutes… What can we do in 70 minutes?”

Clair giggled and blushed at his flirting. “I don’t know. Enlighten me.”

Crosshair let out another soft moan that became a chuckle as he bent down, wrapping his arms firmly below Clair’s behind. When he straightened his figure, Crosshair lifted Clair directly up, reveling in her delighted laugh as she kissed him. Then, he slowly set her back down, but their kiss didn’t stop. As he felt Clair’s hands slide up his chest and find their rest at the back of his neck, Crosshair let his own hands travel to the curve of her back where the pale pink apron was tied. With an intricate touch, Crosshair undid the knot behind her back, and then he did the same with the straps that tied around the back of Clair’s neck until the apron was free for him to cast it aside, letting it rest over a chair. Clair whimpered softly into his lips, and the sound set Crosshair ablaze.

He’d waste no more time, and he’d make the most out of those 70 minutes. He bent over and picked Clair up once more, carrying her towards the living room the way he had done through the threshold when she became his bride. Crosshair set her figure delicately over the couch to then hover over her and cage her to it. Their kisses grew in passion and the heat built up between them, and Crosshair slid his hands up the smooth skin of Clair’s legs, slowly snaking under her skirt and up her thighs until they reached the fabric of her lace panties. Crosshair smirked upon feeling the lace at his fingertips, and he wrapped his hands around the rims to pull them down and cast them aside too as he quickly scurried downwards.

Peppering kisses up Clair’s legs, Crosshair slid himself under Clair’s skirt and let the flower-printed fabric drape over his head, shielding each other from their view. Clair looked down at Crosshair under the skirt of her dress and shuddered briefly in excitement, and a velvety moan escaped her when she felt Crosshair brushing his tongue over her sensitive folds. Her hips instantly bucked forward, seeking more of that friction, but she knew her husband well enough to know she didn’t have to ask for it. Crosshair pressed himself more onto Clair’s skin and made love to her folds long enough to bring her climax close, and then he shifted his approach, using his fingers to lift the hood of her clit and grant his tongue better access to the swollen, sensitive pearl.

He flicked his tongue in quick, repetitive motions over the bud and heard Clair’s breath quicken, with her moans and whimpers increasing in pace and in pitch. It wasn’t long before Clair’s thighs were clenching around Crosshair and her moaning filled the entire cottage, with her hips rutting against him to heighten her already breathtaking waves of pleasure. When Crosshair moaned into her clit, Clair threw her head back in ecstasy, as it was the last detail that crowned her orgasm, rendering it one of the best Crosshair had gifted to her. He continued to moan and grunt into Clair’s cunt, adding more and more to her pleasure until she was just at the edge of not being able to withstand such intensity any longer, and Crosshair emerged from beneath her skirt, granting her a moment to catch her breath as he scurried onto the couch next to her.

When Clair regained herself, she climbed onto Crosshair and straddled him. Hungrily, Clair kissed his lips, devouring him as she could taste herself on him, and she trailed her kisses downwards to suck and nibble on the flesh on Crosshair’s neck. Nipping at every one of his sweetest spots, Clair was able to draw moans, and even a few well-placed whimpers, from her otherwise stoic and composed husband. And as she continued, her hands traveled down to undo his trousers, to which Crosshair immediately obliged.

Clair lifted herself from him to get the pants off him with her mouth watering, and she was about to bend over to suck on his large erection when Crosshair gently clenched her cheeks and turned her face to look at him.

“There’ll be time for that later, darlin’,” Crosshair uttered. “I want to be inside you now.”

Clair cooed and giggled as she adopted her previous position, lifting her skirt so that she could position her thighs around Crosshair’s hips, and she sat down on him, moaning at the stretch of his cock inside her walls. Crosshair muttered silent praises at her, and he wrapped his arms around Clair’s waist, holding her so close that her body somehow felt smaller in his grip. She bounced softly on his cock, the pace slow and without any hurry, so tender and delicious, letting the couple feel everything.

Clair looked deep into his eyes as he helped her move up and down his shaft, and Crosshair became immersed in the pleasure flooding his body. His wife gazed down at him sweetly, smiling at him, and even when she muttered loving declarations or tender praise, he didn’t have the headspace to process it. It was enough just to look at her as her figure bounced delicately, and the closer Crosshair got to his release, the more often he shuddered and grunted, part of him wanting to extend the moment to wait for her.

But Clair rested her forehead on his, smiling. “You can cum, love… I want to see you.”

Crosshair moaned and let his head fall back for a moment. If Clair kept speaking like that, he’d take her up on it, and it seemed as if his wife could read his mind at that moment. She whispered sweet words of encouragement, pulling him closer over the edge until all that was left for him was to fall, and Crosshair’s body trembled when the pleasure unleashed itself within him. During the last few moments before his release, Crosshair found it in himself to open his eyes and gaze into Clair’s, and the only thought that could run through his mind was how much he loved that woman, how he worshiped the ground she walked on. Finally, with Clair invading every corner of his mind and his body, Crosshair released inside of her and spilled hot white ropes inside her walls, filling her up so deliciously that she moaned at the sweet tightness inside.

With a bright smile, Clair slipped outside of Crosshair and sat down next to him on the couch, curling up beside him. Her hand rested softly on his chest over the fabric of his shirt, feeling as Crosshair’s pecs rose and fell, with the pace slowly coming back to normal. The two remained there, silent, full of intention to continue gracing one another with wave after wave of pleasure, though only finding it in themselves to bask in the other’s presence. There was nothing else they needed at the moment.

Crosshair looked at Clair and softly leaned in to kiss her forehead. As his lips were in contact with the warmth of her skin, he felt a wave of the sweet, warm scent of the cake baking in the oven—he’d forgotten about that for a moment—and a smile curved his lips as he took a deep inhale and filled his senses with it.

Clair took notice and chuckled. “Does that smell nice?”

“Mm-hmm,” Crosshair agreed, his eyes closing and body relaxing on the couch.

Clair clenched her fist around his shirt and kissed his chest softly before looking up at him. “Do you wanna go stare at the oven?”

Crosshair laughed softly and opened his eyes to kiss his wife’s forehead again. “Yes.”

With an amount of energy that astonished Crosshair for a moment, Clair got up and tugged on Crosshair’s hand, helping him up to standing, and the two made their way into the kitchen once more.

Thank you so much for reading! If you like this, please consider reblogging too to support me!

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Sentences For WIPs: Round 2 Results

Same deal as before, I'm here to make good on my promise and make no claims my math is accurate!

Tagging for the results: @eternal-transcience @523rdrebel @clonethirstingisreal @the-bad-batch-baroness

Laundry on the Line: 9 Sentences

Where The Wildest Stars Grow: 4 Sentences

This is Blue Vulture Tower, Over: 1 Sentence

Maker As My Witness: 6 Sentences

Names Are For Tombstones: 9 Sentences

Brothers & Batchmates: 1 Sentence

Flowers For A Brute: 3 Sentences

Of Honeysuckle and Haiku (Part 2): 1 Sentence

Wounded Wings: 1 Sentence

Sentences For WIPs, Round Two

Thanks for the tag to play again @523rdrebel 🩷 - helps me remember to do a round two of all the WIPs I have that didn't fit in the first one! [Once again I'll be tweaking how I play to add a sentence for each vote for every WIP that gets voted for since I have so. Many. WIPs.]

Rules: Make a 24-hour poll including every WIP you want to work on, and have people vote for one of those WIPs. Then once voting has concluded, you write one sentence for every vote of the WIP that received the most amount of votes.

What else is Frost cooking? Have another taste below!

Laundry on the Line: As the six newest refugees to Pabu, Clone Force 99 moves in next door to a friendly and not to mention remarkably helpful Pabu native, the respective homes and yard space separated by a single, low fence. Everything from morning chores to supplying the extra egg they needed to make dinner, their neighbor offers a helping hand again and again. While a certain ARC trooper is plenty capable of contributing to keeping-house and other related tasks, Echo can't deny that for some things (like hanging up clean laundry on the line) you may not be able to avoid needing an extra set of hands.

Where The Wildest Stars Grow: Angst with a happy ending; mostly told from Wrecker's POV. A joint mission between a recently-Knighted Jedi's unit and Clone Force 99 experiences an attack from Separatist forces stronger than expected that forces the Jedi to call for a retreat if she has any hope of saving her soldiers. In the process of buying her men time, the new general is critically injured; Wrecker is the only soldier available to come to the rescue. He takes up a new, unfamiliar weapon in a desperate bid to keep her safe until help arrives. And somehow: it works.

This is Blue Vulture Tower, Over: Modern AU "loosely" inspired by the adventure game Firewatch. [May well be a crossover by time it's finished!] Crosshair picks up a summer job as a fire lookout for Coruscant Forest National Park, finding himself struggling to adjust to civilian life after serving for several years in the military. He is given command of Blue Vulture Tower, and has to report to the man known to the other rangers and lookouts by "Gray Fox", manning a tower of the same name. It's not long before Cross learns the Gray Fox is a veteran like himself, and he goes by Mayday. The two vets become verbal pen-pals through cassette tapes when they aren't using the radio, because there are just some matters that are best discussed without having someone accidentally listening-in. Together, they work through some of their experiences in the service while Cross navigates the new nature of his relationship to his brothers and recently adopted(?) sister.

Maker As My Witness: A fresh marriage facing trouble due to an unusual source, Boba, recently-(self)made Daimyo, finds himself making strange and out-of-character promises in his many attempts to assure you of just how much he loves you. Even if it means that it comes to letting you go. You keep dreaming of finding yourself leaving Boba for the stoic, hired gun that was here recently; and it's causing you just as much distress. (It's not like Mando did anything in particular to create this new and rather sudden way you've been feeling about him, lately. Nor did you. All Mando did was help him with a job for one of the native Tusken tribes; this is simply curiosity that has spiraled way out of control.) Together the two of you promise the other a great deal of patience in the time it takes to weather out this passing storm.

Names Are For Tombstones: In the light of a soured job, you and Din have to stick together longer than planned. Much, much longer. Only, you don't actually know the name of the man making up the other half of your prolonged partnership. And he's sure as hell not telling you anytime soon, either. That "beautiful beskar bastard" is playing coy and taking his sweet, sweet time...

Brothers & Batchmates Pt. 3: Third installment in the B&B arc of my OC storyline; Canvas and the group of batchmates (+ friends) he's been adopted into are getting one step closer to a rocky reunion with the troubled "middle child" of the batch, Scuffle. He's mouthy, rude, and is no stranger to picking fights among those he should be calling "brother". After being reassigned to two different units, the last being the 104th Battalion, Scuffle has been returned to his original deployment in hopes that if he is going to look after himself, then maybe the brothers that knew him best will do it for him. Something that Canvas can strongly relate to.

Flowers For A Brute: [Unofficial title.] Savage and his brothers, down on their luck, finally seem to be treated with the galaxy's favor once again when a humble botanist offers them a more proper place to stay when she finds the three of them hiding out in her greenhouse in the middle of the winter. She never turns the Zabrak brothers in, seeing as unlike all the silk-soft flower petals and delicate-looking plants she surrounds herself with, there's a bit of a thorny history to her, too. One she'd rather keep buried with bag upon bag of potting soil. Safe to begin planning their next moves, Savage takes to sneaking off in hopes of growing his own green thumb with a little of the botanist's guidance.

Of Honeysuckle and Haiku, Part 2: [Unofficial title.] Follow-up to Of Honeysuckle and Haiku. Generously taking you to Naboo, like you've always dreamed of, Tech finds (and creates) a bit of pressure to keep planning more and more elaborate dates now that the loth-cat is out of the bag and the two of you don't have to behave quite so professionally like before. Thankfully his brothers are there not only to cheer him on from the sidelines, but to set Tech on straight; only when he really needs it. And over-thinking the very first date certainly counts as needing it.

Wounded Wings: Crashlanding a borrowed shuttle on a remote, neutral world, the Bad Batch are thrown into a rather sticky situation when they're left without transport and a quick way home to the Republic. Luck is on their side however: they can still contact the GAR, and the local people have welcomed CF99 into their village, sharing shelter and food with the soldiers until they can either find or create a way home for themselves. In one of the many efforts to help them, a mildly Force-sensitive woman by the name of Weshla—but better known by "Wing"—agrees to serve as their guide through the dense forests not long after she befriends the squad. Hidden roots will not be the only thing Tech finds himself tripping over the longer he has a chance to get to know the woman who seems to be the unofficial guardian to a living force of nature much, much larger than herself.