#ct tup

[tub-n-dip]

Together from the beginning…

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@earlgreyci @crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf @jack-o-alltrades

[commandermilf]

You know those cats that over groom because of anxiety? Yeah that's why Dogma's hairline is like that.

non-kitty version under the cut

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“Armor for the Skin”

501st x Reader

The overhead lumens slam on like artillery. Groans ripple through the barracks, but you roll out of your bunk already gathering your contraband caddy—a slim duraplast kit labeled “Mk‑III MedPatch”

Fives, half‑dressed and wholly curious, nods at the kit. “Alright, mystery box—you packing bacta or blasters in there?”

You flick the latch. Bottles, tubes, and sachets unfold like a miniature armory—just shinier and pastel‑colored.

“Moisturizer,” you say, dotting cream onto your cheeks. “SPF 50. Sun in space still finds a way.”

Fives blinks. “You’re lotion‑plating your face before breakfast?”

You smile. “Armor for the skin.”

As you pat the sunscreen in, Fives watches, fascinated. “How long does all that take? We get, like, sixty seconds to hit the refresher.”

“Practice,” you reply, capping the tube. “And a bit of multitasking.”

Across the aisle, Jesse mutters, “She’s waxing her cheeks?”—which earns him a smack from Kix.

The medic tilts his head, curious. “Actually, hydrating the epidermis reduces micro‑tears that form when helmets chafe. Fewer micro‑tears, fewer infections.”

Fives groans. “Kix, not you too!”

Tup perks up. “Will it stop my forehead from peeling on desert drops?”

“Only if you commit,” you reply, tossing him a travel‑size tube.

Tup bobbles it. “Commit to… face goop?”

“Commit to self‑care, shiny,” Jesse teases, but he secretly dabs a fingertip of cream on the scar running over his temple when he thinks no one’s watching.

Hardcase flips down from the top bunk, dangling upside‑down. “What about night routine? Can we weaponize it?”

You laugh. “Weaponize hydration?”

You begin to rattle off the list for your routines while shoving items back into the caddy.

Jesse whistles. “That’s more steps than disassembling a DC‑17.”

“It’s upkeep,” you say, snapping the kit shut. “Blasters, armor, skin. Treat them right and they won’t fail mid‑mission.”

Kix, ever the medic, hums thoughtfully. “Prevention over cure—sound protocol.”

Rex marches past the doorway, barking for PT. He notices the cluster around your bunk, eyes the lotions, then decides he’s not paid enough to investigate at 0500. “Five minutes to muster. Whatever you’re doing—do it faster.”

The squad scrambles. You close your caddy with a click, satisfied. Step one: curiosity planted.

As you pass Fives he murmurs, “Armor for the skin, huh?”

“Exactly, vod,” you grin, tapping his chest plate. “And just like yours—it’s personal issue.”

He barks a laugh, then jogs after the others—already plotting how to requisition micellar water under “optical clarity supplies.”

Curiosity piqued, routine revealed. Now the real fun begins.

⸻

An hour later, after PT and standard mess rations, the 501st files toward the strategy room. You’re meant to present local intel, but you duck into the refresher first to rinse sweat and slap on a leave‑in hair mask.

Inside, Tup stares at his reflection, damp curls drooping. “How tight is the towel supposed to be?”

“Snug, not suffocating.” You demonstrate the twist‑and‑tuck, shaping his towel into a tidy turban. He looks like a spa holo‑ad—if spa ads featured wide‑eyed clone troopers in duty blacks.

Rex storms in mid‑lesson. The captain’s expression cycles through confusion, exasperation, acceptance in under a second. “Explain.”

“Deep‑conditioning,” you answer. “Helmet hair’s a war crime.”

Dogma, arms folded behind Rex, scowls. “Regulation headgear only.”

You pat the towel. “Technically, still a head covering.”

Hardcase bursts from a stall, face covered in neon‑green clay. “I CAN’T MOVE MY MOUTH! THIS STUFF SETS LIKE DURASTEEL!”

Kix swoops in with a damp cloth. “That’s the detox mask, vod. Rinse at four minutes, not forty.”

Fives leans in the doorway, filming everything. “Historical documentation, Rex. Posterity.”

Rex pinches the bridge of his nose. “You have two minutes to look like soldiers before General Skywalker arrives.”

Tup whispers, “Uh… do I rinse or…?”

You yank the towel free with a flourish; his curls bounce, glossy. “Ready for battle,” you declare.

Rex sighs. “One minute forty‑five.”

⸻

The 501st rolls in after an endless maintenance drill, expecting lights‑out. Instead, you’ve transformed the common room into a makeshift spa: footlockers draped in clean towels, maintenance lamps angled like vanity lights, and rows of mysterious packets labeled hydrating, brightening, volcanic detox…

Rex stops dead in the doorway, helmet under his arm.

“Vod, why does it smell like a med‑bay and a flower‑shop had a firefight?”

You beam. “Team‑building. Captain’s orders.”

Rex narrows his eyes—he definitely did not give those orders—but one look at the exhausted squad convinces him to play along. You pass out microfiber headbands—Tup’s bun peeks through adorably—then cue soft lo‑fi on a datapad.

⸻

The 501st rolls in after an endless maintenance drill, expecting lights‑out. Instead, you’ve transformed the common room into a makeshift spa: footlockers draped in clean towels, maintenance lamps angled like vanity lights, and rows of mysterious packets labeled hydrating, brightening, volcanic detox…

Rex stops dead in the doorway, helmet under his arm.

“Vod, why does it smell like a med‑bay and a flower‑shop had a firefight?”

You beam. “Team‑building. Captain’s orders.”

Rex narrows his eyes—he definitely did not give those orders—but one look at the exhausted squad convinces him to play along.

You pass out microfiber headbands—Tup’s bun peeks through adorably—then cue soft lo‑fi on a datapad.

Fives foams cleanser like he’s icing a ration cake, flicks bubbles at Jesse.

Hardcase grabs an industrial solvent bottle. You snatch it away. “Wrong kind of chemical peel, blaster‑brain.”

Kix demonstrates gentle circular motions; the squad copies, mumbling mock mantras.

Faces disappear beneath colors and cartoons.

Fives foams cleanser like he’s icing a ration cake, flicks bubbles at Jesse.

Hardcase grabs an industrial solvent bottle. You snatch it away. “Wrong kind of chemical peel, blaster‑brain.”

Kix demonstrates gentle circular motions; the squad copies, mumbling mock mantras.

Faces disappear beneath colors and cartoons.

Jesse paints Dogma’s clay mask into perfect camo stripes; Dogma tries to protest, fails, secretly loves it.

Rex sighs as you smooth the sheet onto his face. “If this vid leaks, I’m demoting everyone.”

Tup giggles when the nerf‑printed mask squeaks. Fives records the sound bite for future memes.

Everyone reclines on mesh webbing strung between crates.

The timer pings. Masks come off—revealing eight glowing, ridiculously refreshed faces.

Hardcase flexes. “Feel like I could head‑butt a super tactical droid and leave an imprint.”

Fives snaps a holo of Rex’s newfound radiance. “Captain, you’re shining.”

Rex grumbles, but his skin does glow under the fluorescents. “Get some rack time, troopers. 0600 briefing. And… keep the extra packets. Field supply, understood?”

A chorus of cheerful “Yes, sir!”

You watch them file out, each tucking a sheet‑mask packet into utility belts like contraband. Mission accomplished: the 501st is combat‑ready—and complexion‑ready—for whatever tomorrow throws at them.

⸻

Obi‑Wan strolls through the hangar, robe billowing. He pauses mid‑conversation with Cody, eyes widening at the radiant 501st lined up for deployment.

“My word, gentlemen, you’re positively effulgent.”

Jesse grins—dazzling. “Training and discipline, General.”

Cody side‑eyes Rex. “Whatever you’re doing, send the regimen to the 212th.”

Anakin trots up, spying a stash of leftover masks tucked behind Rex’s pauldron. He plucks one. “Charcoal detox? Padmé swears by these.” He pockets it with a conspiratorial wink.

Rex mutters, “Necessary field supplies, General.”

You walk by, sling a go‑cup of caf into Rex’s free hand. “Don’t forget SPF,” you remind, tapping his helmet.

Rex looked over to Cody, Deadpan “Non‑negotiable, apparently.”

⸻

Blaster fire and powdered sand fill the air. Jesse dives behind a ridge. “Double‑cleanse tonight—this dust is murder on my pores!”

Fives snorts through the comms. “Copy, gorgeous. Bring the aloe.”

Hardcase detonates a bunker, cheers, then yelps, “Mask first, explosions later—got it!”

Rex stands, sand sifting off armor, skin protected under a sheer layer of sunscreen that miraculously survived the firefight. He shakes his head but can’t hide the small smile.

“Alright, 501st,” he calls. “Let’s finish this op—tonight we rehydrate, tomorrow we conquer.”

You chuckle, loading a fresh power‑cell. The war may rage on, but for this legion, victory now comes with a healthy glow.

⸻

A/N

This was a request, however I accidentally deleted the request in my inbox.

[lothcat-lothcat-lothwolf-run]

this would go crazy on the holonet

[azure-cygni]

For the art requests,

7G Tup?

It's the guyyyy 💕✨ dead bestie nooo he was innocent i tell youuu

Part 4 of my Clone 100 Faces Meme Ask... Challenge....Thing??

So far I've drawn Rex, Sev and Fox, feel free to join-- just follow the rules linked above and you're good 👍✨ Will Draw Any Clone + Followers Only

[w31rd0-art1st]

I animated something and it doesn't look terrible!

Ignore the bad quality that is not my fault. My drawing app ruined the quality when I exported it.

It only took me like 5 hours.

Individual frames under the cut

(tap for better quality)

Also, the quality of the pictures is what the quality of the video should be.

[se-sissy-lina04]

Sissy‘s Masterlist

Order 66? Never heard of it.

The Republic stands. The Jedi live. And our clones? They're chilling with their generals on Coruscant, while Anakin complains about paperwork and Ahsoka steals training sessions with Rex.

Welcome to the

delulu-but-safe Star Wars AU

Clothing & Fashion in the Clone-Wars-Post-AU: Part 1 |…| Part 2 |…| Part 3

The CT-Cassa:

You move in completely unaware into a rather large, government-subsidized housing complex, somewhere on Coruscant – nicely located, lots of concrete, but with a view. And then you realize: All your neighbors are... clones.

Follow the path of “Zee”, the completely normal but sweet nat-born, that moves into the apartment building full of clones.

Life in the CT-Cassa

What it means to live with clones in an apartment complex

CT-Casa: Hallway-to-Hallway Overview |…| Corridor Expansion: The Specialists are coming |…| The Bad Batch moves in

Zee’s First Day at “CT-Cassa”

CT-Casa" – Life Among 1000 Brothers (and You in the Middle)

Zee & Mephistopheles: The Battle for Attention Begins

Zee‘s first morning run with Wolffe

Operation: No morning run for Zee

Operation: Revenge of the Wolffe

CT-Cassa: The No Flirting Policy

Fox’s confidential flirting offender list |…| Vol. 2

The great water crisis |…| Vol. 2

Zee at the store |…| Clones vs. Bottled water

The Hydration temptress

Zee’s balcony diary Vol. 1 |…| Vol. 2 |…| Vol. 3 |…| Vol. 4 |…| Vol. 5 |…| Vol. 6 |…| Vol. 7

Of cuddle piles and clone nests

Zee’s plant battalion

The Zee Paradox

Flirt to ID - the clone counterattack

Operation flirt back

More coming soon…

Ps: feel free to write me or ask questions about the AU. I’m still new to writing, so I’m open for feedback or just an open discussion or ideas.

Also: english is not my first language, so beware mistakes. 🫶🏻

I started a small taglist. If you want to be added, all you need to do is ask.

Important: EVERYONE is welcome here. We don’t discriminate or be offensive towards anyone. This blog is for fun and to share funny AU’s. Different opinions and ideas will be respected, so everyone can enjoy the posts and have fun.

[kometqh]

𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫

Captain Rex x f!reader

When Skywalker assigns you and the 501st boys on a mission, he thought nothing could go wrong. After all, you were one of the best Jedi around. In the flurry of a quick, excitable night, you couldn’t have proven him more wrong. Word Count: 3,238 Warnings: Alcohol consumption, pining Rex, sad Rex, affection (🤯) A/N: SURPRISEEE!! I'M ALIVEEEE :D This piece has been sitting in my WIPs for months now, all because I didn't think it was good enough-- Coming back to it after months I’ve realised I love it the way it is for the first chapter ;)

Golden grains of sand brushed past the group in a chorus, whistling under the amber glow of the setting sun. It'd been hours at that point, hours since the squadron had been dispatched on their mission and they were already running low on water rations and energy. Clone troopers were specifically designed to be able to withstand all sorts of environments and situations, yet even they felt exhaustion after a continuous trudge through the dusty, ruby sandstone canyons. That paired with the constant threat of starved creatures ten times the size of their group lurking about, it was surely enough to keep anyone on a fine line between mind-numbing exhaustion and crippling fear.

Looking up, Rex sighed quietly as he listened to the quiet complaints and grumbles of his men. His feet were aching from a full day of travel, and his throat had been parched for what seemed like millenniums after he'd given Jesse the last remains of his water. The constant scorching heat had also been, unsurprisingly, anything but helpful.

Jedi General nowhere to be seen, Rex urged his men to continue their miserable shuffling pace, until she'd return to them. Until she'd relay information, or let them rest, or reassure them. Until then, he had to maintain composure, never let his men down.

It was shortly after the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, when the skies turned into a canvas of magenta and rosy pink splashes that the General returned. Wearing khaki shorts, a sandy top and a beige cloak, she blended in perfectly with the sunset dunes. Her lightsaber had been safely tucked away, attached to her hip so it was easy to reach for.

"There is a small town just a few clicks South, I believe there might be an inn that we can make a rest stop at. Any objections, Captain?" She eyed Rex up and down, brows furrowing at the sight of his sand-worn helmet and sweaty complexion. In one hand, she held a paper map, in the other she held a flask.

"N- No sir." He responded quickly, posture stiffening up under her scrutinising gaze. She wasn't exactly keen on being alone on a mission with his squadron; not after the last one. He looked down to her flask, feeling the arid desert air clawing at his throat with every breath he took.

"Apologies, it took me a while to realise where the town was. I hadn't seen a paper map in years, nevermind used it." She sighed, feigning some sort of annoyance as she reached out to Rex, head turned away, offering him her water. "Now go, tell the squadron we're leaving in a moment."

"Yes, General. They'll be up and running in no time." Slowly, he carefully took the water, shooting one last look to his general before turning in the direction of his squadron, who'd been impatiently tapping their feet and awaiting further instructions.

As he made his way over, a small inkling of hope settled deep in his gut. She still cared for him, for the others, even when she did her best to avoid them. Rex knew he needed to get to the bottom of this, but for now he had more important things to do. Fives and Hardcase seemed to turn into a team of unbearable jesters each time a mission involved too much walking and not enough action.

—————————

The inn was nothing if not dusty and run-down. It survived hundreds, if not thousands of sandstorms, and its' exterior spoke of those memories as if they were ghost stories told by a campfire. The entrance consisted of a pair of faded, walnut saloon doors, which squeaked and groaned with every brief gust of wind that'd swerved past their hinges.

The exterior of the inn was a sand-tarnished, foamy green wood with a large sign that read 'The Smoker' in fancy letters, but the interior contrasted it with deep, velvet ruby walls, candle lighting and a golden-rimmed bar that extended into the parlour in a half rectangle.

Rex had never been to such an establishment, and he even felt a tinge out of place in such an old-fashioned, un-modernised place in his armour and trusty blasters.

An older gentleman was stationed behind the bar, polishing a glass. Black streaks ran through locks of grey, and his moustache was carefully trimmed into two, twinning strands which curled up at the tips. His cheeks were chubby, brimming with rose colour over a small smile. His attention was redirected to the group, as their entrance was proclaimed by the chime of a small, golden bell.

"Welcome to the galaxy's finest ranch inn, the Smoker, how may I be of service to you all?" His voice was deep and husky as an aftermath of too many smoked pipes, croaking against the smooth tune of a saxophone in the background.

"A couple of rooms, as well as whatever these lot want. Put it all on my tab please." The General spoke quietly, leaning against the countertop. The man eyed her up and down, giving a small grunt in response. She turned to the rest of the group, exhaustion tugging at her features. "Don't go too wild, we've still got a mission tomorrow." And with that, she was off, swirling a room key on her finger.

A few mutters floated between the men as they spread out across the bar, ordering drink after drink.

Rex felt his headache worsen as he rubbed at his forehead. For the life of him he could not figure out how to get his General to act normal with them again. Her behaviour had entirely shifted since their last mission together, and he couldn't blame her. His face still felt hot whenever he reminisced, however she'd become distant and cold towards not only him, but also the others. Parts of him regretted that night whenever he was met with her cold shoulder and distant gaze.

"What's on your mind, Captain?" Jesse's voice interrupted his thoughts, placing a hand on Rex's shoulder. Jesse was a smart cookie. His eyes quickly followed Rex's line of sight, humming in understanding. Jesse had also found himself on the receiving end of her new behaviour, no matter how sugary and honey-coated his words were.

"She'll come around, Rex. She needs some time to figure things out, she's our general after all," He paused, gently tugging at his vod's shoulder, "Let's go, you clearly need a few drinks in you Captain." And with that, the two men joined Fives, Hardcase and Echo at a faraway booth, the men nursing some cowboy whiskey and shots.

Rex was in for a long night.

———————

It didn't take long for the boys to stuff Rex with drink after drink, someone always ready with new rounds each time Rex had thought his glass was empty. Fives took a liking to the music, though he had commented on the lack of civvies in the area, or the lack of their beloved general. Him and Tup were the only ones who, in the past few weeks, had managed to carry out some form of conversation with the general. Rex tried everything to make them spill the beans, from bribes to begging, but the two had sealed their lips shut, their loyalty almost astonishing the Captain, but he knew they were good men, loyal men. So, he didn't push anymore.

Somehow, Hardcase had managed to get his hands on a few 'cowboy' hats, as the bar owner explained, and the boys seemed to love them. Rex was the only one who seemed to be listening to the bar owner's stories, his eyes glazing over and a fond smile gracing his lips as he recounted his favourite memories. The one that had caught Rex's attention was peculiar – it was to do with women, or cowgirls, to be exact.

"If a cowgirl takes your hat, or any other woman for that matter, it means she's interested in seeing more of you," The bartender paused, chuckling to himself as he watched Fives and Hardcase engage in an arm wrestle, "And if you let her, you're essentially telling her you're also interested," After that, Rex seemed to forget to listen to the rest of the story, his thoughts flying to you immediately. As he sipped on his iced whiskey, an idea came to mind. He adjusted the hat atop his head, downing the rest of his drink. He stood up abruptly just as Hardcase won the wrestle, cheering and celebrating in his drunken state. He'd definitely had too much to drink, but Rex would entrust Jesse and Kix to look after him when he'd be throwing up.

Now, Rex had a mission.

He received a few curious glances from the troopers around him, but no one questioned it as he walked towards the stairs, a small wobble in his step.

The hallway seemed to be swaying just a tad as he climbed up with a death grip on the golden rail, praying to the force not to fall and make a fool of himself. The stairs seemed to go on and on forever, taking him up higher into dimly lit hallways, and he wondered just how big this inn was. It didn't seem to be much from the outside, but the inside was certainly a maze.

Many doors lined the hallway, and he realised he didn't actually know where his General was staying. His last sober memories were of Kix joining their table, an annoyed expression tugging at his features as Jesse seemed to regret drinking a tad too fast. Shaking his head – which turned out to be a mistake – Rex stumbled down the hallway, groaning as bile rose up to his throat. Kriff, what was he thinking?

Maybe this was a bad idea after all. Maybe you wouldn't even think to entertain his drunken antics and banish him straight to bed.

But Rex had to try.

The absence of your warmth and kindness was searing a hole directly through his chest. It worsened with every mission, with more distance that you added between the two of you, building a bridge littered with thorns and shards, making it impossible for Rex to cross. You were all he thought of each night, your gentle touches, adorable laughter, your sweet smile and song-like voice. He refused to acknowledge it for a long time, but eventually he realised he was completely and utterly enamoured with you. Ever since that night, far before it even, you had stolen his heart. Hidden it away so deep within your grasps. He knew he was a fool, but he couldn't help it.

A sober voice screamed in the back of his mind to go to bed, to leave you be, and a drunken part of him seemed to accept defeat. He looked like a pathetic drunk, dressed up as a cowboy, stumbling around hallways, desperately trying to find you.

Kriff it. He should go and sleep instead of bothering you further. His drunken antics would only drive a further gap between the two of you. If you needed space, space was what Rex would give you.

Huffing, he placed an unsteady hand on the nearest doorknob he could find. Twisting it, he didn't even bother looking into the room as he rose a hand to rub at his head. The hangover would hit him like a brick in the morning, he was sure of it.

As the door opened, he frowned. It was dark.

How long had he and the boys been drinking? The General wasn't going to be impressed with them for sure.

Rex closed the door with a soft 'click', his arms automatically, but lazily, unclasping his armour. It was muscle memory by now; shoulder pads first, then the chest, arms, legs, so on and so forth.

There were small, fuzzy spots dancing in his vision, the room before him swaying side to side, his feet stumbling over one another as he reached the only bed in the room. Exhaustion suddenly weighed in on his shoulders like a stack of bricks, and he felt himself sluggishly fall into the soft, comfortable mattress. He struggled to twist his body to the side, grunting as the duvet beneath him refused to budge. He pulled at it, his bones turning into slurry and his muscles losing all their strength as alcohol continued to circle around his system.

Finally, something seemed to shift.

The blanket slid out from underneath his bare back, and Rex sighed in relief as it draped over him, the cold material comforting and easing his tired muscles.

His eyelids drooped over, sleep reaching out to him in strong waves of drowsiness as Rex sunk further into the bed.

It was probably from the drowsiness he was slowly beginning to feel, but his heart leaped up and into his chest as he realised – the bed shifted.

He wasn't alone.

His senses kicked in and Rex leaped up from the bed, cursing in the meantime as his legs got tangled in the sheets and his body tumbled to the floor like a sack of bricks, eliciting a loud 'thump' that may have been noticeable all the way downstairs.

"Kriff- I'm so sorry," He began apologising, swallowing down the momentary fear and panic that flowed through his veins, "I didn't realise there was someone in here, I-"

Foreign hands travelled to his shoulders, their warmth seeping into his skin as they sought to comfort him, "It's okay Rex, there's no need to panic," A soft, smooth and caressing voice spoke out into the darkness of the room, and Rex's brows pulled together in confusion. That voice, it was familiar. He knew-

"General?"

"Yes, it's me Rex. Let's get you up now, shall we?" You were quick to help your Captain get to his feet, noticing that a large, dark brown hat resided hung from his neck. His skin was burning hot against your palms, and your hand wandered to his forehead as he laid back down. "You're burning..." You paused, scrunching your nose, "You reek of alcohol, Captain. How much did you drink?"

"Not enough apparently." Rex grumbled out as he pulled his newly acquired hat over his face, hiding his scowl from you.

Your brows furrowed at his response, surprise and confusion flooding your veins simultaneously. Was he upset with you? If that was the case, you could understand why. You hadn't been the friendliest or kindest over the last few rotations, and guilt did eat away at you whenever you were the cause of that dejected look in Rex's eyes. But he was nothing if not patient. He gave you your space and didn't try to break your boundaries. Maybe the alcohol stumped the patience that Rex never seemed to run out of.

"Are you upset with me Captain?"

He gave you no response, no hint as to what he was thinking or feeling.

"Rex?"

A deep huff left through his nose.

"Rex, what's-"

Suddenly, he was sat upright, a hand swiping the cowboy hat back onto the crown of his head. His gaze was piercing, even in his drunken stupor, as his nose remained just inches from your face, "You really do make things difficult, don't you, mesh'la." His voice was a murmur as his hazy honey eyes stared deeply into yours.

Before any words could leave your parted lips, he cupped the side of your face, a coarse thumb tenderly caressing your skin.

"Please don't make this difficult, General." Begging words barely above a whisper, your Captain slowly, carefully, leaned in. His eyes held the utmost adoration as his lips stopped just a kiss away, his presence overwhelming and freezing up every muscle and nerve in you all at once. The smell of whiskey was strong, but that familiar scent of seawater and pine lingered, stopping your breath short as your eyes fluttered close.

His movements were slow, calculating and considerate as Rex hesitantly teased the gap between your bodies.

Blood pulsated loudly in your ears, the hairs on your body tense as goosebumps flushed your skin in waves, the intensity of his proximity to you silencing any stray thoughts you had. In that moment, it was just the two of you. It was just the sound of his shaky breaths mixing together with your own, the slight tremble in his hand as his grip tightened and then eased, as if he was uncertain of what to do, the smell of whiskey and the taste something sweet familiar, something that had you wanting to reach out for more and never let go. And there was also the sight of him. Those golden irises, those thick lashes fluttering over his eyes. The pinkish hue that dusted over his cheeks, the heat emanating from his body as he struggled against every instinct within him that screamed at him to just kiss you, to just hold you and to just love you.

He made his choice.

His fingers dwindled downwards, tracing slopes down your nape as he eased an inch to the left.

Soft lips pressed against the corner of your mouth, pouring all his thoughts and feeling into that one, simple kiss, his nose gently scraping against yours as he took in a slow, steadying breath.

"I'm sorry, mesh'la," He muttered sweetly, voice broken and barely breaking above the confines of a whisper as he stilled against you.

Taking a sharp inhale, the imaginary shackles dropped from your body.

You pulled away slowly, your hands enveloping Rex's as you pressed it against your chest.

"It's okay Captain," You shifted away from the bed, feeling as his fingers entangled with yours and tugged, quietly pleading for you to stay.

Looking up at you, Rex knew deep down that you couldn't do what he wanted. He knew he shouldn't even try, and yet his body seemed to act on its own will whilst he remined watching from behind a glass prison. His chest tightened as he noticed the way your eyes seemed to droop, your lips drawing into a fine line so as to not betray your thoughts and feelings. Time stopped as the two of you remained frozen, yet again, gazing at one another, savouring the last moments before your fingers trickled from his grasp, falling in tow with your other hand as you reached for the duvet.

"Sleep, Captain, we've got a long day ahead of us," You whispered out, pulling the covers over his chest as Rex gave a small nod, resting against the soft pillows beneath him. Your movements came to a halt as you took notice of his hat, yet again, and an idea sparked in your mind.

Your fingers reached nimbly for the material, gently pulling it away from your captain.

With heavy fingers, he reached out for it, his eyes already struggling against the weight of his drowsiness.

"What are you..?"

Lifting a finger to your lips, you let a small smile tug at the corners of your lips as you placed the hat atop your head.

"Goodnight, Rex," And with that, you were out before he could even blink.

Rex remained frozen in his seated position, his mind struggling to balance the feeling of drowsiness and shock at your actions. The alcohol flowing through his blood wasn't any help either, and he soon found his head hitting the pillows as his muscles seemingly turned into jelly.

A small smile blossomed on his face, even as the events of the night slowly blurred and faded under the whiskey and the rush of his feelings..

[lavender-jedi]

Fives- hey bro, what do you wanna eat

Tup’s inhibitor chip- THE SOULS OF THE INNOCENT

Tup- A bagel?

Tup’s inhibitor chip- NOOO

Tup- Two bagels?

[darthkote]

Fives headcanons Pt. 1

Makes a point of learning how to say simple phrases in a few different languages native to the places he visits as a soldier. He finds that the native civilizations usually take more kindly to someone who isn't barking at them in a foreign, confusing tongue. "Hello," "thank you," and "we are here to offer help," are a few he tries to memorize as they travel through hyperspace. Fives isn't motivated by anything other than making the civilians more comfortable... But when he's given fruit or flowers as thanks for his friendliness, he makes sure his brothers get a clear view of the gifts. "See, diplomacy does pay off, Hardcase." (He receives a scoff and an envious glares in return.)

Back on Kamino, Shaak Ti had instilled in him that his brothers were there for him, and he had a duty to reciprocate that. As time went, it became less his duty and more his heart's desire. It made him feel nauseous when he heard a raucous laugh fall from Echo's or Kix's lips, mostly because it was his own laughter amplified and externally sourced. He remembers the first time going to 79s with some of the 501st, not long after Rishi Moon; Rex had introduced him to some of his men, and it had been one of the first times since he'd been on Kamino that he'd felt completely safe. Looking around, it was rare to meet eyes with anyone's who weren't his own, and kriff, the laughter. It had filled him with such a sense of belonging that he'd had to go cry in the fresher, just for a moment. When he'd returned to the group, Echo had given him a knowing look – eyes gentle as always, the inkling of a smile on his lips; he'd felt it too. After everything with Domino Squad, Fives was reluctant to build from the rubble of his past, but he found it was more agonizing to cut himself off from their unconditional love.

Fascinated by braids. The first time he saw them, ever, was on a desert planet they had been stationed on for months during the war. This planet couldn't have been further from his water-covered homeworld, the people included. Their complexions ranged from a deep-copper red to a blue that was nearly purple in hue, and their hair was sculpted into intricate braids that he never stopped admiring for as long as they were there. After several weeks of hesitating, he finally asked if he could learn the community's art form. He had been afraid of rejection, and bade his breath as he awaited the Elderwoman's decision whether or not to let this strange man into their traditions. He knew this was something the people of this world held dearly, and he was prepared to take no as his answer. Watching would suffice. However, when the Elderwoman sent for himself and Tup, he allowed himself some hope. Entering her clay fortress had been even more wonderful than he'd imagined; breads and meat were offered to them, and Tup, for once, could admit that Fives was quite the diplomat. Meeting the Elderwoman face-to-face was comparable, he felt, to being in the presence of Shaak Ti – she was a master with plenty to teach to those she deemed worthy of the knowledge. Her hair had been down, rather than up in one of the various styles he'd seen her wearing from afar; the texture of her hair created a halo around her, and Fives had been in utter awe. He and Tup had been instructed to sit and watch as the Elder's handmaidens wove her hair, slowly, carefully, into the desired shapes and patterns. Although they were not allowed to touch, Fives learned through observation how these sculptures that had caught his eye since the beginning were created. As they'd watched, he practically begged Tup to take his hair down so that he might practice a simpler technique they were being shown, and Tup would never admit that he'd dozed off several times under his brother's diligent touch.

As much as he enjoys making his brothers a little jealous, Fives is such a softy for each and every one of them. He will go off and pick flowers for them, and he'll make sure to weave a crown or necklace for Rex to wear. I can imagine them all sweeping through a field of tall grass, and Fives is in the middle of everything.. collecting flowers for his brothers to wear and smell. They'd all have their favorite spot in their armor for their flower to be kept, of course.

[bunny7567]

I got you - chapter 27

Pairing: Rex x Jedi!ofc

Word count: 6.2k Tags/Warnings: still on Umbara; grief; mourning; guilt; skin-picking; includes dialogue from Plan of Dissent; Hardcase has the coolest last words in the series in my opinion; pure angst; mentioned violence/killings; ominous premonitions

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Vode An song and lyrics osik - shit di'kut - idiot Ner kar’ta - my love cyare - beloved

~~~

It wasn’t too difficult – for the clones, it almost felt like a training sim, compared to the harrowing rotations they’d just survived. The remaining Umbaran forces were depleted and their desperate final attack on the airbase was swiftly crushed. It also helped that this time they actually had a Jedi fighting by their side, instead of observing from the sidelines like Krell had. This time they weren’t alone, they weren’t ordered to follow a flawed plan. They weren’t blindly sent to be slaughtered.

Lexie took charge, facing the Umbarans head-on, right alongside her men. Maybe she shouldn’t have done what she did, but she used their chaotic attack as an opportunity to get some of her anger out. She fought without hesitation, without mercy. Like they were droids.

Except they weren’t…

These were living, breathing, sentient beings – maybe she should’ve cared more about their deaths.

But the pain and fury of her men were fuelling her own and, for the first time in this war, she couldn’t see past the fact that they were the enemy. An enemy that needed to be taken down. By the end of the battle, very few Umbarans were left alive to be taken prisoners.

And Lexie couldn’t find it in her heart to care.

An eerie silence settled over the airbase once everything was done. They’d won, they’d captured Umbara – but no one was celebrating the “victory”. Its cost had been too high.

The post-battle calm offered no peace as the weight of everything that Lexie had shoved aside came crashing down. Another one of her friends was gone. Hardcase was gone. For some unknown reason – maybe for closure, maybe to punish herself – Lexie asked Fives for his helmet footage. The ARC hesitated, argued it would only hurt her, that watching it wouldn’t help. But she insisted. She needed to see it, she needed to understand how it happened… and whether she could have stopped it, if she’d been here.

Tucked away in an emptier part of the base’s hanger, Lexie watched the footage on her datapad. Then she opened his file, read it once, twice, before she pulled the footage back and rewound it. Watched it again. Adjusted the comms settings to boost Hardcase’s voice.

Blastdoors were destroyed. Debris clipped the side of Hardcase’s ship. A ray shield was activated, cutting them off from the reactor room. Droids were closing in fast from behind.

 “Cover me!” Hardcase shouted.

“Hardcase, get back on your ship!” Fives ordered.

The footage kept shifting between glimpses of enemy fire and Hardcase moving away from his fighter, shaking with every move of Fives’ head. It was chaotic, and difficult to follow.

“Trust me I got a plan. This is for the 501st; don’t wait for me.”

 “Hardcase, no!” Fives tried again, Mando’a curses muttered under his breath.

“You’ve disobeyed enough orders today, Sir. Follow this one – get out of here!”

“If I know Hardcase, we better leave…” Jesse said grimly.

Fives glanced to his side again, but Hardcase was no longer in his field of vision. With a heavy sigh, he and Jesse flew away.

“Live to fight another day, boys. Live to fight another day.” Hardcase’s voice sounded through the comms one last time.

Then static.

Lexie exhaled the breath she didn’t realise she was holding, a single tear slowly rolling down her cheek. She couldn’t have done anything.

She would’ve sanctioned the mission – Lexie was always open to her men’s suggestions and their plan was good. She would’ve been on board with it in a heartbeat. She would’ve sent them to destroy the supply ship. The fighter still would’ve taken damage. The shields still would’ve been activated. It still would’ve happened. She couldn’t have saved him. And yet the guilt wasn’t going away…

She rewound the footage again.

 “Sir,” a voice came from next to her and she looked up from the datapad, eyes landing on Tup. “There’s a holo-call for you.”

“Right, thank you Tup.”

Lexie didn't move however, instead returning her attention back to the device she was holding.

“It's so weird, you know?” she said when noticing his questioning peek. “His status still says active and it's going to keep saying active until I submit the casualty report. And then it's going to change, and it'll say deceased. So until I write that report, until I click submit, I can almost pretend he's still alive”. She rubbed her temples with one hand and let out a long, defeated sigh. “Sorry... Hardcase was my friend.”

“He was a good soldier,” Tup echoed.

“He was more than that. He was a good man”. She took another deep breath and straightened. “Right, you said there’s a holo-call?”

“Yes, Sir”.

“The Council?”

“Indeed, Sir.”

“Time to face the music I suppose”, Lexie mumbled.

They walked silently through the compound, with the trooper glancing her way from time to time, his demeanour turning anxious. Finally, it seemed like he’d gathered enough courage and he spoke quietly.

“Dogma’s a good man too.”

Lexie turned her head, appraising the clone walking next to her. He was staring ahead, a frown painting his features. There was definitely worry surrounding him as if he was concerned she would reprimand him for speaking out of turn.

“You two were transferred to us together, correct?”

“Yeah... he's my batchmate. I... I know what he did was wrong but–”

“He shouldn't be punished for it,” she stated, her tone categorical.

His head snapped to look at her, surprise and relief mixed together in his eyes. Lexie didn’t say it, but she could feel it deep inside. She would’ve killed Master Krell herself if she’d been here.

“I... I'm worried they'll decommission him,” Tup admitted.

Lexie stopped dead in her tracks, her expression contorting in horror. They… they wouldn’t do that, would they?

“Surely it won’t come to that,” she tried to dismiss it, her voice, however, a little shaky.

“Technically, he killed a commanding officer,” Tup pointed out.

“But Krell was a traitor – it’s self-defence or… or defence of others!”

“They might still call it insubordination, Sir. And the GAR doesn’t tolerate that from us.”

Her stomach twisted and she shook her head. No… no she wouldn’t allow it. Too many of her men had died during this wretched campaign already – she would not lose another one! She couldn’t let this happen. She’d failed them already, she’d let them down. None of this would’ve happened if she’d been here! Dogma wouldn’t have had to kill Krell if she’d been here… Her thoughts were racing – she had to fix it, she had to find a way to save him.

Frantically, she grabbed the first idea that came to her mind, latching onto it without a second thought.

“Where’s Kix?” she urgently asked.

“Infirmary I believe.”

“Which level? Fourth?”

“Uhm yes, why– w-where are you going Sir?” he called after her as Lexie turned around and headed for the lifts. “What about the Council?”

Lexie spun mid-stride, walking backward without missing a beat. “Tell them I’m attending to a pressing matter, but I’ll be there soon.”

She pretty much ran to the infirmary, her mind made up. She had to act fast – time was not in her favour. At one turn she passed by Rex, who, when seeing the distraught look in her eyes, immediately grew concerned. He asked what was wrong, but her only reply was that she had to do something. So of course, the Captain followed after her, needing to make sure she was alright.

“Kix?” she called as soon as she walked through the door of the infirmary, turning a few heads her way – Fives and Jesse included, who happened to be there. There was a tension in the air – heavy, suffocating – that maybe she would’ve sensed had she been thinking clearly. But right now she had tunnel vision.

The medic stepped away from the patient he was seeing, appraising her with a concerned look. “Are you alright?”

“Krell’s time of death – did you log it?” she asked, striding toward him.

“What?”

“Did you log it in the official records?” she clarified, the words coming out quickly and urgently.

“Uhh… not yet.”

“Good. I need you to change it,” she demanded.

“What?!” This time it was Rex’s voice, sharp with shocked confusion, coming from behind.

Lexie turned to face him, then her eyes moved to Fives and Jesse, taking in their puzzled expressions.

“Nothing major, just… half hour later,” she explained, turning to Kix again. “After I dropped out of hyperspace, I managed to patch a comm through, and I gave the order to have him executed.”

Kix looked at her as if she was speaking Huttese, but Fives took a step forward without missing a beat.

“You’re correct, I remember that comm.”

He then turned to Jesse, shooting him a pointed look.

“Uhh... r-right, yes,” the lieutenant stammered, “I also remember the comm.”

“Absolutely not!” Rex thundered.

Lexie ignored him, stepping closer to the medic. “Kix?”

“Half an hour later?” he asked.

“After I gave Dogma the order,” she repeated firmly.

The medic nodded, his eyes darkened by the lingering hatred and grief he still carried for Krell, and for the brothers they’d lost because of him.

“I can do that.”

“No! No, you can't do that,” Rex protested.

Lexie spun to face him, already prepared to argue – but the words died in her throat the second she saw the look on his face. The anger she expected – Rex was fiercely honourable, he believed in the GAR, in the Republic, in his purpose. But the fear hiding behind the fury… that was startling.

“Rex–” she started weakly, but he cut her off.

“No! How can you even suggest that? Do you even know what that would mean? You can’t compromise yourself like this, I won’t let you!”

“Let me?” she snapped back. “Rex, they might kill him! I can’t-I won’t let that happen.”

“Lying is not the way to help him!” Rex objected, louder now.

“So am I supposed to just stand aside again while another one of you is killed?” she spat, her guilt forcefully creeping back in her mind.

Rex’s next argument was interrupted by Kix stepping between them, the annoyed frown on his face directed at both of them. “Maybe don’t argue about this right here,” the medic hissed, gesturing to the cots around them.

Lexie blinked, finally noticing the dozen confused and concerned faces of the clones in the infirmary. Her heart dropped. She’d been so worked up she’d completely forgotten where she was… and who she was. A Jedi. A general – their general.

She shot Rex a quick glance then hurried out the infirmary. The second she stepped into the corridor, she paused – just long enough for the Captain to catch up.

“Rex, I am doing this,” she said as soon as he stepped out the door. “I would’ve given the order anyway – hell, I would’ve done it myself if I’d been here. What difference does it make?”

“What difference?! Lexie, it’s a lie. You would compromise yourself,” Rex exclaimed in disbelief.

“And?” she challenged. “If that’s what it takes to keep Dogma safe-”

“You’re just gonna throw yourself under the speeder?” Rex barked. “There are other ways to keep him safe. We can fight it, but we’ll do it properly.”

“And put Dogma through a court-martial? He doesn’t deserve that”, she objected.

“What about you?” he shot back. “They’re already investigating you because of Tarkin. Do you really want to give them an actual reason to suspend you? Or-Or worse – kick you out of the GAR? Out of the Order?”

“Maybe I don’t care about the kriffing Order anymore,” Lexie hissed.

Rex stared at her for a few speechless moments, his wide eyes searching hers. Then, in a small, almost broken voice he asked a question that felt like a punch in her gut.

“Do you care about me?”

She wasn’t prepared for that. She wasn’t prepared for how deeply it would cut. Had she really made him doubt her love for him?

“I… how can you…” Lexie faltered, all her anger and determination slowly melting away. “You know I do,” she whispered.

“Then please Lexie,” Rex said softly. “For me.”

She blinked away the couple of tears threatening to spill – tears of anger? Of pain? She wasn’t sure. Rex used her silence to step closer, quickly glancing around. The corridor was empty, the door to the infirmary closed. He reached his hand, fingers brushing her cheek for a brief moment. A small sigh escaped her lips as the warmth of his gloved fingers grounded her, calming her down.

“Please, cyare,” he uttered quietly, “please don’t do this. We’ll fight it. Trust me, we will. But we’ll do it properly. We’ll follow protocol.”

“They still could see it as insubordination–”

“They won’t. Because it wasn’t,” Rex stated. “There were three officers in the brig who will testify to that. And you – a Jedi – can vouch for his character.”

“But I could just take the blame,” she insisted. “It would be so much easier.”

“But I can’t carry this too right now!” Rex blurted out, his voice rising just a little.

“What?” she asked, her stomach twisting.

Rex swiped a hand over his face. The exhaustion was almost palpable.

“If you lie, I can’t–” his voice cracked and he paused to take a breath. “I can’t handle the worry – and I will worry. I’ll worry they’ll find out, I’ll worry about the consequences you would face. I just… I can’t handle that right now, not after… not after everything that’s happened here”.

Lexie froze, her guilt hitting her like a splash of cold water as she stared into his eyes.

Now she saw it. Pain. So much pain.

She’d sensed he’d been affected by everything, but not like this. How hadn’t she seen it? How hadn’t she thought of him – really thought of his pain?

“Ner kar’ta, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think–”

Rex shook his head, lifting a hand to gently curl his fingers around her wrist.

“It’s okay,” he spoke softly. “I know where you were coming from. I know you always want to protect us – and I love you for that. But please, Lexie… I need you to think of yourself too.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising.” He gave her a smile so faint, she barely noticed it. “It’s okay. Honestly, I’m just already dreading how much trouble you’re in just by showing up here.”

Lexie’s eyes went wide. “Osik! The Council! They’re waiting for me on a holo-call.”

The Captain shook his head again, some amusement flickering into his eyes. “And somehow you’re the general,” he teased and Lexie shot him a glare. “Come on, I’ll go with you,” he said.

“Uhm, no,” she refused. “You’ll go get some sleep.”

“Lexie-”

“I’ll tell the truth,” she promised. “I’ll stick to protocol. I’ll fight it in the right way, with you by my side.”

“I still should come with,” he insisted.

“Rex, you need sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

Lexie placed her hands on her hips, a smirk already forming. “Don’t make me pull rank, Captain.”

“You just did,” he pointed out, crossing his arms.

“Well,” she added in a kittenish voice, “you usually like it when I order you around.”

His cheeks darkened instantly and he let out a flustered chuckle. “Lexie…”

“Sorry,” she laughed. “But really. Go get some sleep.”

“I really am fine.”

“Do you really want me to throw your own advice back in your face?” she warned, giving him a pointed look.

Rex rolled his eyes, though a small smile was still on his face.

The holograms looked different, bulkier, less detailed than the technology Lexie was used to – and that was a blessing really, she didn’t have to see their disappointment in high quality. Lexie wondered how she would appear to them back on Coruscant or in whatever corner of the galaxy they were scattered. Umbaran technology had such a particular design, how would it translate through Republic frequencies? Would she appear normal or would she be constructed out of the same blue cubic pixels that assembled the Jedi Masters projected in front of her?

Lexie shook her head, suddenly realising she’d allowed her mind to get lost through a maze of pointless questions. It was only natural – she wanted to stall, to avoid this confrontation for as long as possible, to delay whatever punishment she would be dealt. But the consequences of her choice were waiting, and she couldn’t escape them forever.

She took a deep breath and stepped away from where she’d frozen in the doorway, moving closer to the flickering holograms of the Jedi Council. She stopped, bowed her head, and waited.

“Surprised to see you there, we are,” Master Yoda was the first to speak.

“I was needed here, Master,” Lexie replied.

“We’ve never had problems like this from you, Alexis,” Master Shaak Ti added, her voice as calm as always.

And she was correct. Lexie had never disobeyed orders in such a blatant manner before. She’d strayed from the Council’s instructions many times in the past, sure, but she always found discreet ways in which to do it. Lexie had always exploited loopholes, or figured out how to not get all the heat thrown onto her – much to Anakin’s frustration, who usually ended up getting the blame.

But not this time.

This time, she simply didn’t even consider any other options. Didn’t even try to look for a loophole. This time she had thought only Rex.

And she had acted out of fear…

“Well, I do not believe Alexis would’ve left, if Skywalker was still there”, Plo Koon mused.

“That’s correct, Master. I wouldn’t have come unless I knew it was absolutely necessary” Lexie explained, clasping her hands behind her back in an effort to keep her composure.

“And yet, it doesn’t seem like your presence made much difference,” Mace Windu said, his voice like durasteel. “A Jedi Master is dead – struck down by one of your men.”

Lexie clenched her jaw, as if trying to keep the anger bubbling in her chest from spewing out of her mouth. The Jedi Master had approached a subject that was much too raw. The temptation to lie and protect Dogma was still there –  she could just take the blame herself. It would be so easy. But she made Rex a promise. She had to tell the truth and explain the situation. You just need to stay calm while doing so.

“He was no Jedi,” Lexie hissed.

Or not.

The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down on her like a weight on her chest. For a moment she wondered if the connection had dropped and the holos were frozen – but a few turning heads confirmed otherwise. They weren’t speaking. They were waiting. Waiting for her to continue. She took a deep breath.

“No longer naïve enough to be a Jedi,” she repeated what Rex had told her. “Those were his exact words.” Her own voice sounded foreign, forced – but it was calm now and that’s how she had to keep it. “He was going to betray the Republic, become an agent of Dooku.”

“Master Krell?”, Ki-Adi Mundi exclaimed. “And you’re certain of this?”

“I am, Master. My men–” she began, but didn’t get far in her explanation.

“Young Skywalker, good of you to join us,” Master Plo Koon said, his gaze shifting off-frame.

“Apologies for the delay Masters,” came Anakin’s voice. A few seconds later, the blue, holographic blocks assembled his image and he turned, facing what must have been her own image back at the Temple. “Lexie,” he greeted flatly.

“Anakin,” she replied, her voice cold and still a little bitter.

“Speaking you were, hmm,” Yoda prompted.

Lexie nodded and began recounting everything Rex had told her – the full-frontal assaults, the disregard for life, the attempted execution of Fives and Jesse, the betrayal… the killings. Her nails dug so sharply into her palms she worried she might draw blood, but still, she kept her composure.

“We’ve never sustained casualties like this,” Lexie concluded, her voice grim.

Even through the indistinct Umbaran holograms, she still could see the shock that painted the faces of the Council members.

“This is most shocking,” Master Mundi proclaimed.

Is it? Lexie almost spoke out loud. A spike of anger shot through her entire body. This shouldn’t have been a surprise. This shouldn’t have happened. She’d heard the whispers about Krell – surely, the Council had too. And if not the rumours, then his casualty numbers should have raised alarms. How could they have missed the signs? Or was it that they chose to ignore them…?

“An investigation needs to be conducted,” Mace Windu announced.

“I would like to have it on record already that clone trooper Dogma should not be punished for his actions,” Lexie took the opportunity to say.

“Didn’t he kill an unarmed prisoner?” Master Unduli asked.

“He acted in defence of the Republic! The Umbarans were mounting an attack on the base. T-They didn’t know I was on my way. They had to act quickly, neutralise the threat.” Lexie’s words came out faster than she intended, betraying her barely-controlled anxiety.

“Your request has been noted,” Master Windu spoke. “But his fate might not be entirely up to us.”

Lexie forced herself not to argue – there was no point. It seemed like a court-martial was unavoidable. She nodded, guilt and anger simmering together in her chest. Her eyes moved beyond the holo-forms of the Council, landing on Tup, who was sitting behind a console. He was trying to avoid looking her way, but he was listening – she knew he was. The overwhelming feeling that she was failing him – that she was failing them all – came crashing back and Lexie nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She needed this damn call to end.

“Is there anything else, Masters? I don’t mean to be blunt but there are still prisoners to process and casualties to count,” she said, her voice strained.

“Yes,” Plo Koon interjected. “Before we adjourn – young Skywalker, why did you leave Umbara?”

“The Chancellor personally requested my presence for a diplomatic event,” Anakin answered.

Lexie thought she heard something in his voice, something akin to restrained anger, guilt – just like what she was feeling. But her own resentment was blinding her. He should be feeling all those things; he should be haunted by what he’d inadvertently allowed to happen. It was his fault too – just like it was hers, the Chancellor’s, the Council’s.

When she looked back up, she found him watching her. No doubt he could easily see it all over the holographic image of her face. She blamed him, she couldn’t not to.

She saw the discreet four-tap of his fingers on his leg – a signal they’d developed on their many missions together as Padawans. It was a check-in, a pleading… an apology.

 But she simply couldn’t soften her eyes for him.

She couldn’t return the signal like she was supposed to.

“I see,” Mace Windu said, his voice almost too calm. “I will have to speak with the Chancellor later about prioritising active missions and utilising other available Jedi in the future.”

Her eyes flicked to the Jedi Master, and Lexie clenched her fist behind her back, feeling a gratifying sense of vindication. It wasn’t just in her head. It didn’t sit right with her when Anakin had told her the reason he’d left his mission on Umbara – so many other Jedi were on Coruscant, available to help. So pulling him from the middle of such an important battle? It wasn’t right and she was so grateful she wasn’t the only one thinking it.

“Your actions and the circumstances, carefully we’ll examine,” Master Yoda addressed her again. “If punishment is necessary, told you will be, when back at the Temple you are.”

The call finally ended, and once the holo-forms of the Jedi Masters crumbled apart, she finally felt like she could breathe.

Lexie let out a long, exhausted sigh, relaxed her tense shoulders, and swiped a hand over her face. Maker, I need a drink.

“Tup?”

“Yes Sir.” The trooper walked over to her, coming to a stop a few steps away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sure. Just a headache,” she replied flatly. “I… I’m sorry.” The trooper gave her a confused look, so she continued, her voice cracking just a little.  “Dogma – I don’t know what's gonna happen to him.”

“You tried, Sir,” Tup said with a small, sad smile.

Lexie slowly shook her head, chewing on her lower lip. It wasn’t enough to just try. She wasn’t doing enough.

“Why don't you go be with him?” Lexie suggested. “We'll have to follow protocol and they'll come take him into custody soon. So you should... you should be with him before that.”

“Are you sure, Sir, I'm still supposed–”

“I'm sure. I'm assigning you to the brig until he's taken away,” she reassured him.

“Thank you. Really Sir, thank you so much.”

“And I’m here,” Lexie added, “if you need to talk – or anything.”

Tup smiled and nodded then hurried to the lifts, leaving her alone in the central control tower. A few clones remained, but they were busy with their tasks. Lexie walked to the window, stepping over shards of shattered transparisteel that still littered the floor. A cold breeze was blowing freely into the room, brushing her face still warm with anger. Lexie wasn’t sure how long she stood like that, gaze lost on the Umbaran landscape and a multitude of thoughts whirling through her mind while her hands were clasped behind her back, relentlessly picking at the skin around her fingernails.

She was so out of it, she actually jumped a little when an arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“Only me,” Fives spoke softly.

She looked up, meeting his concerned eyes, then leaned into his side. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “my mind was elsewhere.”

“Nowhere good, I’m assuming,” he commented. “Do I need to tell Kix to give you another lecture about leaving your skin alone?”

Her hands immediately stopped their fidgeting and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Sorry,” she repeated quietly.

“Should I be worried about you?” he asked.

“I’m not the one who was almost executed,” she deflected. “How are you doing?”

Fives sighed and shook his head. “You know I usually leave you to it when you don’t want to talk about something, Lex, but–”

“Yes, thank you, I really appreciate that–” she hurried to say.

“But,” he resumed, his tone firm, “I won’t do that this time. I won’t let you blame yourself for something that was out of your control.”

“None of this would’ve happened if I’d been here,” she declared in a grim voice.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s true. Still not your fault though,” Fives argued. Lexie opened her mouth to reply, but he didn’t let her speak. “I mean it. Don’t be a di’kut.”

She looked up at him again and rolled her eyes. “You have such a beautiful way with words sometimes.”

“Well… Echo was always better at it,” he said ruefully.

“Yeah… I could use one of his pep-talks right now,” Lexie remarked.

“You and me both.”

Silence settled over them as they watched the darkened sky. A few ships would pass over every now and then – Republic – the hum of their engines cutting through the quiet atmosphere. The planet was actually quite beautiful – it was a shame none of them would ever be able to see it that way… None of them would ever be able to see it as anything but a place of pain and death.

“Is it… is it horrible that, in a way, I’m glad he’s not here,” Fives spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “That he didn’t have to go through this whole osik.”

“No, it’s not horrible. I know what you mean,” she eased his guilt.

“His fight is done. He’s resting. I’m… I’m almost jealous,” he continued, choking on the last words.

He’s not resting.

The voice was so loud in her head, it almost knocked the air out of her lungs. Lexie shuddered as a dreadful sense of urgency washed over her. That wasn’t her voice she heard and it wasn’t her Master’s either – the only other voice that usually haunted her mind. She frantically looked around, as if somehow its source would be in the same room with her. But she knew she wouldn’t find it – Lexie knew when the Force was speaking to her.

If only she could understand what it was trying to say…

“Lex, what’s wrong?” Fives asked, taking a step to stand in front of her.

She lifted a hand to her sternum, rubbing her chest slowly. Her heart was racing. “I don’t… I’m not sure.”

“Another attack?” the ARC asked, gaze shifting to the window.

“N-No. Not that, no,” she shook her head.

She lifted her eyes to his. Fives was now studying her face intently, the worry evident in his pinched brows. He trusted her instincts, he knew that if she was worried about anything, he should be worried too.

“I… I thought I heard something, that’s all. Don’t worry about it.”

She looked around again, then took a deep breath as the dread slowly subsided, leaving her mind an anxious mess. What the hell was that? That question was screaming at her, but she had to put it aside, hide it away to be tormented about it later. She simply didn’t have the time to think about it right now. There were so many other pressing matters she had to attend to.

 “What were you doing in the infirmary earlier? Are you hurt?” she changed the subject.

“Uh… no, no,” Fives hesitated. “Jesse went in there to get some answers from Kix. I wanted to hear them too.”

“What answers?”

“If he would’ve actually shot us had I not convinced them otherwise.” Fives’ face was serious, and the look in his eyes was grim, angry, unsettling.

Lexie felt a lump from in her throat. She’d been so consumed by her own guilt, she hadn’t let the full horror of everything sink in. She was told about the execution order, she knew the details, and she had been angry about it – rightfully so – but she hadn’t actually thought about what it meant. She hadn’t fully realised who was on the firing line… who’s blasters had been raised on the ARC and the lieutenant.

Of course Krell wouldn’t do it himself. Of course he would make them do it to each other. Vode firing on vode. The ultimate betrayal. The cruellest kind of torture.

“But they missed on purpose, didn’t they?” she asked, her voice small, like she was afraid to hear the answer.

Fives didn’t reply right away. His gaze dropped to the floor, jaw tight. “He said… he doesn’t know.”

“If… if he missed on purpose?”

“No,” Fives shook his head. “He did miss on purpose. But he doesn’t know what he would’ve done if I hadn’t said what I said.”

“That’s–” she started, but he cut her off.

“They would’ve done it, Lex,” Fives snapped, whatever restraint he was hanging onto now gone. “And Rex was gonna let it happen.”

Lexie recoiled. The words had struck her like a punch to the gut.

“He stood and watched,” he continued, his voice sharp and bitter. “And before you say anything, I know he was in a difficult position, I know they were just following orders, but that doesn’t change things – he stood and watched and the others fired.”

What could she even say to that?

Her mind was a clash of contradictions. Lexie wanted to defend Rex and scream at Fives, ask him how could he even imply that Rex had done anything wrong. The glimpses of pain that she’d sensed back in the corridor, the torment in his heart – she knew he was blaming himself, she knew he was feeling it so overwhelmingly deeply. The guilt was burning in him already – he didn’t need anyone else fanning the flames.

But Fives was hurting too. The same pain and anger was surrounding him, muddying his force signature like a stone cast into a clear lake. How could she reproach him for needing an outlet? For needing somewhere – or someone – to place his rage upon?

They were both right. And they were both wrong. All at once.

Lexie couldn’t find the words – there simply weren’t any right ones. Not any she could say without picking a side between two people she cared about. So instead, she stepped closer and pulled him into a hug.

Fives didn’t move at first, surprised to feel her arms around him. Truthfully, he’d braced for an argument – for her to jump straight to Rex’s defence. So it was such a relief to be offered comfort. With an exhausted sigh, he hugged her back, allowing her to hold and soothe him just like she did after Echo died.

When he eventually pulled away, he was calmer, the anger momentarily stifled. Enough to think clearly again.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through all of this,” Lexie spoke first, a hand still resting on his arm, still grounding him to her. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

His mouth briefly twitched into a sad smile as he nodded slowly, then pulled his eyes away from hers before tears could gather.

“You, uhh… you should go check on Rex. He’s not okay,” Fives murmured. “I… I can’t right now – I’m still too angry. I’m sure it’ll pass. But I can’t right now.”

“He’s probably sleeping, so I can stay with you for longer if you need,” Lexie said.

Fives actually huffed a small laugh. “He’s not sleeping”

“That’s what I told him to–”

“And you think he listened? Come on Lex, he’s as stubborn as you are,” he declared, some of his typical lightness briefly flickering in his voice. “Last I saw him, he came back into the infirmary to order Kix to log the correct time of death, then started checking up on every single trooper in there.”

Lexie lifted her eyes to the ceiling and sighed. “Of course he did.”

Rex wasn’t in the infirmary anymore, but Lexie did stay there a while to speak to a very exhausted Kix. He wasn’t alright either – none of them were. But Kix was a medic. Kix was supposed to save his brothers. He wasn’t supposed to watch so many die needless deaths. He wasn’t supposed to raise his blaster on his best friend. And he wasn’t supposed to kill vode in friendly fire.

Needless to say, the last rotations had been hell for him.

However, Kix wasn’t one to talk about things like these. She knew that, she knew not to push. So she sat with him on a cot in the back of the infirmary after she convinced him to take a break. No words were spoken, she didn’t have any comforting thoughts to offer and he didn’t want to hear platitudes anyway. But he did take her hand and squeezed it tightly as he breathed through the pain.

And then he was back to work.

She left the infirmary, making a note of the time so she’d know when to return and force him to take another break, make sure he ate something and maybe even coax him into getting some sleep. If that was possible.

Lexie continued searching for the Captain, her thoughts lost in rehearsing what she could say to make him feel better. But she froze when she heard the singing.

Kandosii sa kar'ta, Vode an.

It was coming from the barracks. Dozens of voices singing in Mando’a. Low voices, rough – voices she knew. Chanting as one. Lexie felt chills run down her spine.

Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an.

Her feet carried her to the open blastdoors that lead to the barracks, but she did not dare step past the entryway.

Bal kote, darasuum kote/Jorso'ran kando a tome.

The room was full of troopers, perched up on the cots or stood around them. Most of them she knew – they were from her battalion – but some had orange paint adorning their armors. And they were all singing, their voices synchronizing in harmony. 

Sa kyr'am nau tracyn kad, Vode an.

It was beautiful. And haunting. And so heart-breaking.

She noticed Jesse’s tattoo first. He had a hand draped across Fives’ shoulders, their eyes closed as they sang the Mando’a chant. She noticed a couple more familiar armor markings – belonging to Appo, Heron, Ibis, Halves. But unexpectedly, Rex was there too. He was stood in the back of the room, leaning on the wall – and he was singing.

Lexie lingered in the doorway, listening until her eyes met Rex’s across the room. She mouthed a simple question – “Are you okay?” – and received a small, wordless shake of the head in reply. His gaze drifted back to his vode, his voice folding once again into the song. She watched for a moment more, then turned and walked away.

What Rex needed right now was to be with his bothers. He would come find her later. And she would be there for him.

Taglist: @selene131 , @yoursrosie , @olasz-2003 , @ichimatsu-gal , @whisperofwild

If anyone else wants to be tagged in future chapters let me know

[tub-n-dip]

Cadet Cuties

If you want to be tagged, just ask! 💕

@earlgreyci @crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf

[maisy7567]

My Umbara pieces. I’m still working on the final 4th piece to go with this.

[zarilia]

Sims 4: Clone face overlays and Tup's hair

These been stuck in my WIP folder for too long! Not planning to create any other stuff from TCW really (well, maybe Plo Koon... but shhhh, I haven't even started yet), just adding some details to the wonderful CC we already got from the very talented creators mentioned below.

Tup's Hair - maxis match colours, BG compatible, custom icon

Clone face overlays - found under left lip mole, 7 clone face overlays featuring the distinctive nasal bridge, square chin, eye and forehead wrinkles and mouth crease variations to easily customise the tattoos and other CC like eyebags or other facial details, BG compatible, custom icons

CC used in screenshots: - tattoos & scars by @ck-sims - Fives' goatee by @squidsponge - clone armor & standard clone haircut by Kynd - eyebags by @tamo-sim - eyes by @nords-sims

Clone sims based on Ritpit01's Boba Fett

[lothcat-lothcat-lothwolf-run]

stop giving my men slutty slutty waists I keep getting distracted in battle

stop marking about how their so pretty and perfect and beautiful I’m starting to fall in love

Stop making the boys hot I can’t marry them all and then we’ll be sad

stop making them so nice and kind and good people I can’t keep going like this

in other (unrelated) news I am in love with the entire GAR

[foxyaran]

Branching out a little bit with a wild Tup'ika 😀