qualified-trash-panda

[qualified-trash-panda]

Obi-Wan: *kisses sick Cody on the forhead*

Cody, absolutely out of it: You missed

Obi-Wan: Huh ?

Cody: *kisses Obi-Wan on the lips*

*Obi-Wan exe has stopped working*

Kix: *walking backwards out of med bay* Nope ain't gonna dealing with this banta shit

[qualified-trash-panda]

Pinch Pinch

Day 7 of 212th Appreciation Week (and I'm zonked. this is the most productive I've been since Trump became president)

today's prompt is 'Touch' and ngl this little piece was the most fun to write. started out being for Day 1 and the 'Clone Culture' prompt because clone armour and all but my gal is so touch starved it was meant to be.

description: Sennari doesn't know what it is to be treated like a true brother. she's gone through something terrible. good thing Waxer and Boil have experience with this kind of thing... right?

length: 1.6k

no warnings! enjoy!

The silence pressed in on her.  After weeks of restless nights waking to the sound of a distant explosion, of patrols moving out and returning, shouts from medics haunting the rocky corridors, the silence aboard the Negotiator deafened her.  Ninety-Four had to bite her cheek until she tasted tangy blood on her tongue to keep the open stares, the wide-eyed looks from crawling under her skin as they moved through the lower level of the venator.

“Ignore them.” The stiff trooper muttered under his breath, shooting a particularly gaping trooper with two orange circles on his shoulder bells a dark eye.

She clutched the brown robe tighter around her chest.  They destroyed her old blacks, and what little armour she had left had been scrubbed clean. All the dust and stains from Syrac were gone but the scrapes were still there, she counted each of them as she lay waiting to be discharged, leaving it all behind to be scrapped, repurposed.  Anything.  Ninety-Four didn’t want to remember what she survived, she didn’t want any part of that old self, trying to leave as much of her behind on the blocky rock formation.

Sennari.  Not Ninety-Four anymore.  A poison spreading through the galaxy.

The upper floor had been quieter, full of uniformed clones instead of troopers too absolved in their tasks, hurrying down the corridors, to notice the two of them.  The trooper leading her, Gearshift, barely said anything to her, and he stood perfectly content by the door.  Another silent presence, constant in the back of her mind as she sat perched on the edge of someone else’s bunk, staying the swarm for now.  Sennari had studied him as they walked, his undercut bedraggled and the shaven sides started to grow out, the black strands shot with grey.  Gritty stubble lined his square jaw, the beginnings of a goatee sprouting beneath his lip more grey than black.  He seemed to stand taller than the others, his shoulders broader as if he spent more time training than on the field, and he had a jutting scar sloping down his forehead, the tip breaching his thick eyebrow. 

It made Sennari wonder how many scars she had waiting, her fingers itching to probe her entire body, search out the permanent reminders of her failure so she knew where to avoid looking.  Half praying the bacta worked enough to wash them away and fearing what memories clung to the ones that stayed.

The door trilled a light chime and Gearshift straightened, his back to Sennari as every nerve tensed in her body, clutching her legs tighter to her chest as he opened it and two more troopers stood waiting on the other side.  They filed inside, shrinking the already cluttered barracks, and the bald one stared around wide eyed for a second taking it in.  As if being here were a privilege and Sennari just didn’t understand.  The other, a thick moustache circling his mouth, set half a bundle down on the opposite bunk.

“It’s old.” He explained, his voice rougher than sand, hair cut to regulation.  “Won’t get a new shipment till the next round of shinies.”

The bald one spread his half of the bundle out atop the scratchy blanket, both their backs kept to Sennari, both wearing identical orange striped armour with the triangular collar, the painted spauldrons.  Contrasting to the distinct white gears stamped into Gearshift’s. 

Sennari’s grip on her legs loosened as she peered between them, recognizing the plastoid pieces laid out. A snowy white set, breastplate and all.  The bald one blew off a crumb of dust before setting down a knee plate, stacking the boots neatly by the edge of her bunk.

Gearshift shooed the two out the way and they took his place by the door, letting him assess the pieces.  “Left rerebrace.” He pointed to the missing spot plainly.

“Couldn’t find one.” Moustache shrugged, leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest.  “Guess we run out of those pretty quick.”

Gearshift hmphed, jutting his chin in the barest nod and Sennari watched wordlessly as he snapped off his own and completed the set without a second thought.  A streak of orange splitting the white.

“She’ll have to repaint when she gets reassigned.” The bald one pointed out but he didn’t seem surprised by the act. 

“If.” Moustache corrected, eyeing Sennari sideways.  “You good down there, kid?”

“Stop it, Boil.” His brother smacked his arm.  “You’ll scare her.”

The clone - Boil - huffed.  “I am naturally terrifying.”

“Out.” Gearshift snapped, finished assessing the gear and Boil straightened, Ninety-Four’s fingers relaxing around her ankles, but he stretched a hand out before they left.  “Waxer.”

The bald one paused, exclaiming softly as if remembering and took a folded strip of material from a pocket at his belt.  “It’s a bit crude.” Waxer apologized, flashing Sennari a small smile.  “Cale made it based on Davijaan’s pinup, he’s great with a needle apparently so if she wants her blacks adjusting, just say the word.” 

Gearshift huffed a ‘good job’, taking whatever the troopers talked about, and smoothed the material out on the bunk beside her.  Ninety-Four merely blinked, watching the two strangers, watching him.  She pinched herself. No, Sennari.

“That’s Waxer.” Gearshift shot a thumb at the bald clone as she inched to the edge of her bunk, frowning at the strip of material he lured her out with, then threw it at the other one.  “This is Boil, we’re all Ghost Company.”

“We heard you needed a new set.” Waxer smiled, gesturing to the carefully laid out armor. 

Ninety-Four barely heard him.  Another pinch, another reminder.  Instead, she laid a shaky hand atop the material, her brow furrowing until she realized what the trooper made her and her breath hitched, fingers clenching around it.  He’d obviously made it from an old set of blacks, she’d recognize the feel of that material anywhere, the right level of stretch and pull, but it had been improved at the back, something elastic worked into both hems so it could be adjusted to fit comfortably.  A slight curve identified the front, an extra layer of material worked into it to create a cushion, and something stiff reinforced the back.  Ninety-Four – pinch, pinch – released the breath as she ran her fingers over it again and again, suppressing a choke so hard it hurt. 

“It’s the least we could do, you must’ve gone through hell down there.” Waxer said softly and he stiffened as Gearshift shot him a warning look. 

The least we can do… her fingers clenched around the makeshift breastband, squeezing it to her palm and she so desperately wanted to say something, anything, but she could barely force a breath around the choke clamping down her throat, let alone words. 

“It’s okay.” Waxer told her and his fingers itched at his side, slowly lifting to pat her arm hesitantly.  She inched closer to him, a silent consent for him to settle a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.  “You’re welcome, vod.”

Vod.  That word again.  It rippled through her like skittering icicles.  A word that belonged to her brothers, not to her, never to her.  She didn’t earn it, she wasn’t a brother at all.  Just a mistake.  Another soldier meant to live and die for this war.  A poison.

Only you didn’t die, did you? Sennari shuddered, nails biting into skin.  You survived when everyone else didn’t. 

“Everything okay, trooper?” Waxer felt her shudder under his grip and Sennari turned to stare at his gentle hand on her shoulder, the touch so simple, so small and yet meant the entire galaxy to her.

Waxer wound his hand tighter round her shoulders when she stared that second too long, drawing her closer, and Sennari’s hazel eyes skittered around the bunk frantically, her body stiffening.  Nobody touched her like this, not once, she didn’t know what to do.

“Relax.” Waxer encouraged, the corner of his lip perking.  “It’s a hug, it’s supposed to be comforting.”

His brother snorted over by the door.  “Doesn’t look very comforting.”

Waxer shot him a scornful look.  “I’d like to see you do any better.”

Boil’s chest puffed, as if taking the challenge, and he came to sit on Sennari’s opposite side but as soon as his hand lifted a frown curled his brow, as if he didn’t know where to go next.  They didn't exactly hand out hugging instructions in basic training.

“That’s what I thought.” Waxer smirked proudly.

“Stow it.” Boil shot over the top of her head, his hand falling to her shoulder in an awkward pat and he grimaced in what Sennari assumed was his attempt at a smile.  “I would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulties of your life.”

Gearshift slapped a hand to his worn features, rubbing it down as Boil’s hand continued to pat her shoulder. 

“You’re hopeless, you know that?” Waxer’s shoulders deflated, and he shot his brother a flat look at the same time Boil glared at Gearshift.

“I don’t see you helping.”

His gaze flashed to Sennari who panicked at first, wedged between the two clones, their arms pressing against hers, her nails shot white she gripped the band so tightly, but then something bubbled in her chest.  Something warm, light and kind of fluffy.  A new feeling.  It filled her as they bickered like an old married couple and she hid the growing wobble to her lip by pressing her face to Boil’s chest.

“Help.” Boil mouthed over the top of her head, his arms hovering around her awkwardly.

“Start with hugs.” Waxer whispered encouragingly, miming wrapping his arms around her.

Boil frowned, “With what?”

“You are the worst at this comfort thing.” Waxer sighed and grabbed his brothers’ hands, yanking them around Sennari in a terrible imitation of an embrace.

Sennari didn’t care, she swallowed it down eagerly.  As if she’d been lost in the desert for weeks, scorching in the blazing sun, and he were her only source of water.  Sennari drowned in it, in the warmth, the awkwardly soft touch as he gingerly stroked his hand up and down her arm.

dividers by @saradika

[qualified-trash-panda]

Water Fight

Day 6 of 212th Appreciation Week

today's prompt is 'Clone Life' covering the mundane day to day life within the GAR and by god did I enjoy writing this lil snippet.

description: don't make bets with Boil, things go sideways quickly.

lengths: 1.7k

no warnings! we're all happy days for once!

“Gearshift!” A flustered trooper by the name of Peel caught his attention as he stepped inside, blocking his path.  “Weren’t expecting you.”

Peel still wore his armour, though his helmet was nowhere to be seen and his regulation cut had started to grow longer, a few curls dangling down his forehead, his square face grinning awkwardly.

Gearshift blinked once, taking in his appearance, a trickle of water dripping from the armour plating up his arms and he took a patient breath.  “Who?”

Peel cocked his head.  “You lost me.”

“Who’re you covering for?” He rested a hand at his hip.  “Crys or Boil?”

Peel blew out a ridiculous breath.  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You been taking acting lessons from ...?” Gearshift queried and the man deflated.

“That bad?”

“Worse.” Gearshift confirmed, “What’s going on?”

Peel considered another lie and then forgot it completely as Gearshift crossed his arms over his chest, peering deeper into the man’s clear features.  “We might have a bit of a crisis.”

“We can’t have a crisis.” He told him blithely, “My schedule is already full.”

“The section officer left Crys in charge of cleaning the gunships.” Peel explained as he fell into step beside Gearshift, heading over to the obvious disaster unfolding.  “And he kinda bet Boil he couldn’t wash all the gunships before Switch got back and…”

Kark.  “Boil!” Gearshift yelled and heard a rattle as a bucket fell over, his boots splashing as he stormed through a puddle of dirty water.  “What the kriff have you done?”

A dozen puddles lay all over the hangar, growing steadily in size as he rounded a nearby gunship and came to find his unruly squad mates dripping head to foot. 

The moustached trooper stuck a finger out, pointing to the stunned bottle blond stood next to him.  “He bet me I couldn’t do it!”

Crys slapped his arm down, a betrayed frown creasing his forehead.  “Snitch.”

“Where’s Waxer?” Gearshift asked, sensing the headache already and rubbed at his temple, staring down Boil until he answered.  Waxer was usually around to stop this kind of mistake from happening.

“Why?” Boil asked, confused, at the same time as Crys told him he was with the Commander.

“Because he’s about ninety percent of your impulse control.” Gearshift snapped, turning to Crys and holding out a flat palm.  “Hand it over.”

Crys crossed his arms, giving him an empty look.  “Hand what over?”

“The Boil tax, give.” Gearshift waved his fingers, hurrying him on.

Grumbling, Crys took the credits from a pouch at his belt, begrudgingly dropping them in Gearshift��s hand and he pocketed them quickly.  He knew better than to make a bet with Boil, the trooper couldn’t turn down a challenge if his life depended on it, he had a competitive side that rivalled General Skywalker’s.  The Boil tax was supposed to deter anyone from making a bet.  You wanna lose your money, that’s your choice, but at least spare some for the rest of us.

“You better clean all this up before Switch gets back.” Gearshift ordered, jutting a finger at both troopers.  “You know what he’s like.”

“Who left you in charge?” Boil sneered and regretted it as soon as the smirk pulled his lips.  “Oh, we might have a problem then.”

The two stepped aside to reveal the broken water hose still spewing water across the deck. 

The headache waved innocently behind his eyes and Gearshift.  This is the last time he gets left in charge. “Did you at least clean the ships?”

Boil grinned proudly, “Polished and shining.”

Gearshift glanced at the neighbouring ship as the puddle about his feet grew, not a speck of grime dotting the hull, the latest round of blaster scorches scrubbed clean off and he even managed to get in the little gaps lining the blast doors.  No one ever bothered cleaning those, it was too finnicky a job and a waste of time.

“Not bad.” He complimented.  Credit where credit was due after all, leaning back to glance down the line of gunships and seeing them all equally shining.  “I’m actually impressed.”

“Ugh, sergeant?” Peel cleared his throat.  “The hose?”

Right.  His squad mates parted to let him through and he bent down beside it.  The nozzle had somehow got stuck open, a torn scrap of synthleather stuck in the mechanism, the water dribbling out.  He clutched it between thumb and forefinger, lifting it for a better look, careful not to aim it directly at himself when a burst of water shot from the hose, drenching Crys and knocking him back into the open belly of the gunship.

“Sorry!” Peel yelled from the mains, his gloved hands on the hose crank.  “Wrong way!”

Gearshift curbed the smile trying to pry onto his lips as Crys stood up, tiny clinks of dripping water echoing off the durasteel and when he shook out his hands a stream flew against the wall. 

“Personally.” Boil slapped a friendly hand on his shoulder.  “I think you deserved that.”

Crys thought differently, frowning at his brother, and he retrieved a bucket from near the wing, stepping back to tip the contents over Boil’s head.  He slapped his hand on the upturned bottom for good measure, the plastoid echoing and now Gearshift did smile.

“Cool bucket, Boil.” Gearshift joked.  “You gonna paint Numa on that one?”

Boil tipped the bucket back to glare at him, skating his foot across the wet floor and showering Gearshift.  He lifted his hands, blocking his face, the smattering of water sloshing across his chest, his arms, seeping into his exposed blacks.

A moment of calm, broken only by the tinkling of water, passed as the three regarded each other, glancing at each individually as identical looks of sheer mischief gradually lowered over their shared features and simultaneously burst into a water fight.  Gearshift dove behind a wing to avoid the first shot, a bucket rattling against the floor, and retrieved a sponge from where it had fallen, stealing his chance to dash out from behind the wing when Boil wasn’t looking.  He caught him in the back of the head with a joyful cry, unable to avoid the spray Crys shot his way and his damp hair whipped his cheeks as he spun. 

“Peel!” He yelled, waving at the other trooper by the mains and he threw back a thumbs up, hands clenching over the crank. 

Gearshift dropped into a roll across the damp floor, ignoring the way his blacks slid over the puddles, soaking him further, and grasped the idle hose where it lay.  He aimed it just as Boil grabbed a half full bucket of water, spraying him back against the ship and the bucket rattled to the floor, water spilling out across the deck. 

“What the kriff is going on here!” Trapper yelled, narrowly avoiding a sponge to the face, staring at the three of them despairingly, his gaze softening a little in surprise when he spotted Gearshift but only briefly.  “Sergeant?”

“Nothing to see here, kid.” Gearshift grimaced, dropping the hose and taking the hand Crys offered him. 

Crys hauled him up and he released a genuine laugh when his foot slipped on the damp floor, Cry’s tight grasp of his arm steadying his.

“Right.” Trapper grumbled, swiping the sponge from the ground at his feet and giving it a squeeze, water dripping over his glove.  “Nothing at all.”

A splitting whistle drew their gazes and Peel jogged back to them.  “Switch is coming.”

“Well, we tried.” Boil excused, leaning an arm against a wing and Gearshift watched it slide down the slick surface.  “Switch is not going to be happy.”

“He’s got company.” Peel added quickly and panic flickered across his plain features. 

Quickly, Gearshift bent to fiddle with the hose, ramming the nozzle so it looked like it had been shut and clearing the tear of any blockage before settling it back on the durasteel, waving the others off and Trapper followed him over to the mains.

“You’re gonna fix this problem by causing a bigger problem?” He hissed, glancing back over his shoulder as Switch’s voice echoed to them, his panic growing as the section officer spotted their unique little disaster zone.

“Crys.” Switch yelled, stamping over, his boots kicking up tiny sprays in the puddles.  “I told you to clean the gunships, not drown them!”

The Commander picked up the broken hose, inspecting the nozzle, and even from behind his straight stance, the diagonal lines on his thigh plates were easily recognizable and Gearshift flexed his hands around the crank ready. 

“I’d run, if I were you.” He warned Trapper and the trooper wasted no time hesitating.

Gearshift twisted the crank as far as it would go, the synthleather buzzing as a great stream of water rushed through it, shooting through the broken nozzle and blasting the bonnet from Cody’s head, the shock knocking him back a few steps.  The hose fell from his hand as he did, flailing about wildly until Waxer stamped his foot on the winding leather and yanked back the crank to stop the gushing water.

Boil and Crys fought to contain their laughter as Cody steadied himself and Gearshift leaned casually on the crank, one hand resting on his hip lazily as the commander’s head snapped around the hangar for the culprit.  His bucket landed with a thud at his feet, bouncing twice before settling.

“Gunships are practically spotless, Commander.” Gearshift grinned, waving the hand at his hip towards the line of larty’s.  “Take a look.”

“Gearshift.” Cody practically growled, water dripping off his scarred features and he ran a hand through his damp hair.  “I thought I left you in charge?”

Gearshift’s own black locks dribbled water into his increasingly soggy blacks and he pushed off the crank, threading his fingers through it, bending slightly to ring it out on the durasteel before grabbing Cody’s helmet and walking up without a single care in the galaxy.

“You did.” He smiled sweetly and offered his helmet, meeting his scathing look when he took it.  “I wouldn’t do it again, if I were you.”

dividers by @saradika For @212thappreciation Week Day 6 Prompt: Clone Life

[qualified-trash-panda]

Whiplash

Day 5 of 212th Appreciation Week

today's prompt was 'Hurt/Comfort' and I struggled a little so kinda fell back on Kenobi again cause I find him easy to write. this piece is set during the Zygerria arc (and I actually intend to use it for my wip because it turned out better than I thought) where my OC goes with the Jedi instead of Rex.

description: captured. imprisoned. beaten. you find comfort where you can.

length: 2.4k words

warnings: injury, blood, electrocution (sry if I missed anything!)

Bent on her side, short, pained breaths leaving her thoughts fuzzy, each rise and fall of her chest sending jolts through her back, the slightest twitch jarring the angry red gashes decorating her back.  The lashes burned through her whole body as if someone lit the skin on fire, her brows permanently knitted together and a fine sheen of sweat blanketed her, nails scratched along the steel shelf beneath her. 

The uncomfortable slab she called a bunk did nothing to ease her, her body draped along it at an awkward angle, shock collar digging uncomfortably into her neck, to keep her back angled up and she feared ever rolling over in her sleep.  If sleep ever came.  Every time Sennari thought the dull throb was about to lull her into her dreams she’d suck in a sharp breath, a twitch of her aching body or the slow dribble of blood leaking out one of the gashes would mingle with another, casting a ripple of stinging pain to ignite her nerves all over again, jolting her wide awake.

“Can you hear me?” the slow whisper permeated the haze of her mind and Sennari blinked through heavy eyes, struggling to focus on the unnervingly bright blue gaze piercing into her.  “Trooper, can you hear me?”

Slowly, she forced her head into a nod, trying to summon years of training, months of grueling work to isolate the pain in her mind, shove it down, clear her gaze.  “General Kenobi.” She forced between her teeth.  “Is everything alright, sir?”

“I should be asking you that.” His voice softened, lighter than a cloud.  “You shouldn’t have intervened.”

Sennari’s lip quirked briefly.  “You’re welcome, sir.”

A wince broke it off as the barest force slid her back on her bunk, grazing her skin, pulling at the gashes, and her vision scattered with dark spots.  Shock collar clinking against the metal.

“Sir?” She breathed shakily.

“It’s alright.” He assured her and she registered the rustle of his clothes as he moved, prying open her eyes and suddenly the blue invaded her gaze, the General resting along her bunk beside her, offering out his arm.  “Can you move?”

It took Sennari a second to understand what he wanted, struggling to lift her clouded head off the slab and he draped a makeshift pillow made from someone’s robes over his arm, helping gently set her head down atop it and she released a long breath as it eased the tension between her shoulders. 

His hand hovered over her shoulder, gaze locking in hers, forcing her to keep her eyes on him, keep them open, a question rising within them and she nodded her permission.  Drawing her arm down, away from her side, he angled himself up, careful not to jostle her head, and although he never touched her she sensed his hand floating above her open wounds.  A chill ghosted across her scorching skin, her shallow breaths evening out as a cool numbness washed down her spine, flooding through her blood, relaxing her entire body and she buried her cheek into his arm.

A grateful sigh slipped her lips, her eyelids drooping but she propped them open as the General settled back down, his blue eyes studying her features.  “Neat trick.” She whispered, relief swelling through her, releasing the knots in her shoulders and a wave of exhaustion quickly replaced it, her body entirely limp against the slab.

“It won’t last long, I’m afraid.” He regretted, “I could never truly grasp the art of healing.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” All Sennari felt was a dull throb echoing on her back.  “I feel fresher than a daisy.”

Kenobi’s breathy chuckle fluttered across her cheek.  “Try and rest.”

A soft sound drifted from her lips, “Right back at you, sir.”

“You need it more.”

“Nuh uh.” Sennari tried to shake her head against his arm but the twitch sent a shiver down her spine, the shock collar tilting, her brow curling as it prodded the first gash.  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, sir.”

Kenobi frowned at her, the quirk of his brow casting a shadow across the piercing blue.  “Noticed what?”

“The bags under your eyes.” She ran her hazel eyes over them, apparent even in the darkness of the stifling prison barracks.  “You barely slept since Umbara.”

“Always the observant one.” Kenobi’s chest rose and fell in a silent sigh and he tenderly picked a slick strand of dark hair from her face.  “I had hoped the Council would grant us leave following the campaign, but…”

He brushed some of the sweat from her face, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead.  “But then Kiros?” Sennari finished and he nodded.  “Lemme guess, we were the closest?”

A clang rang out as one of the guards hit the edge of a bunk with his baton, metal ringing against metal, and Sennari heard several sharp intakes, a few sobs.  “No talking, scum.” The Zygerrian scolded monstrously and Sennari tilted her head, watching his shadow pass by, venom piercing her hazel eyes.

“He does that again, I’ll shove his stick somewhere uncomfortable.” Sennari hissed silently, releasing a select few curses and the General’s brows rose.

Kenobi rested a hand atop her shoulder, the warm touch easing the sudden tension knotting again, threatening the numb down her back, a shiver cascading down her spine.

“Calm yourself.” He hummed, drawing back his hand and forcing Sennari to take a deep breath, an unusual understanding sinking into his gaze.  “Save your strength.”

Grinding her teeth, Sennari tried to relax but the shadow grazed along her mind, tempting free memories she locked away a long time ago and her fingernails scratched at the bunk as she tried to adjust her position and nudged the gashes again.

“Easier said than done.” She bit out.

Static ripped through her body, throwing hazel eyes wide as the shock collar bit into her neck, an electric hiss tearing down every limb and she cried out. 

The slaver popped out from nowhere, teeth bared savagely, fangs flashing in her sketchy sight as she arched her back away from him.  Spots danced across her vision, hot sickly breath filling her ear as the slaver growled another warning, his words lost as pain sizzled through every nerve in her body and Sennari saw different fangs, a different whip.  You’re a poison infecting this galaxy. 

Sennari gasped loudly as the sting vanished, her body trembling with an old fear and she collapsed.  Fingers entwined with hers, soft robes knotted in her grip, a steady hand grasping the back of her head protectively as an explosion rattled in her ears and she twitched sporadically, trying to find the source of the clanging, the smoke filling her nose.

It only made things worse.  Pain rippled down her spine, splitting right to her core, her thoughts buzzing with the sound of metal screeching as the flames warped it, of a blaster bolt searing her vision and flesh burning.  The calming words in her ear did nothing to assuage it, her mind distorting, vision blurring things together until darkness swarmed her, wrapping her up in the tightest blanket and she blacked out.

A second passed in the void, barely the beat of her heart, but when she snapped her eyes open with a sharp breath she knew hours must have drifted by.  The pain ebbed into a dull throb, the gashes stinging down her back, forcing the sharp burn in her flesh to the forefront of her vulnerable mind. 

“You’re safe.” A steady voice reassured her and Sennari struggled to pry herself from the lingering shadows cornering her mind to focus on it. 

A warmth flickered in her mind, sweaty body pressed against something, fingers knotted around her hand, others stroking down her hair in soothing motions and once the pounding in her ears settled she heard the quiet whispers, the quiet assurance.

Sennari squeezed her fingers, the hand holding her squeezing back, grounding her, drawing her to the present, away from the menacing cloud warping her thoughts, chasing away the darkness and she blinked heavily, staring into nothing until the fold of beige robes registered in her mind, her other hand knotted in the soft cloth, the knuckles white as if she clung to him for dear life.

Tears muddied her eyes, her fingers squeezing tighter with each ripple of static down her back, tearing gasps from her throat.  “It hurts.”

The voice shushed her gently, the hand stroking along her hair faltering for a second before continuing.  Sennari didn’t know why she said it, she loathed how pathetic it sounded on her tongue and ignored the white-hot fire piercing her blood as she buried her face deeper against his chest, gritting her teeth so hard her jaw ached. 

Why did I do it again.  Sennari didn’t know if the words left her tongue or trickled through her mind, the tears burning in her hazel eyes as bright as the gashes along her back and she shuddered beneath the memory of a different whip, a different slaver.  You’re a poison…

The fingers gripped her harshly, pulling her back from the edge and she choked on a breath.

“This is not Syrac.” The voice told her bluntly, her heart thudding boldly, the sporadic shake of her body stilling and she waited for the punchline.  “Syrac is gone.”

It’s gone… I failed…

Tighter again, she squeezed but her hand still shook.  They’ll punish me if I fail…

Sennari tensed as the hand left her hair, her body waiting for the lash stroke, seizing up in preparation and fingers trailed down her jaw, gently gripping her chin to lift her head.

Auburn hair, blue eyes, a beard.  “General Kenobi?” She shuddered, her voice hoarse, her mouth drier than the desolate dunes of Tatooine.

“Stay with me, trooper.” The voice ordered, the instruction washing over her, steadying her, and she recognized it now, her feeble mind put the pieces together.

Not Syrac.  Kadavo.  “What…” Sennari forced herself to swallow, to work some moisture back into her barren mouth.  “What happened?”

“Never mind that.” His fingers left her chin, stroking down the side of her face, trying to wipe the sweat from her brow.  “You just stay with me.”

His fingers still laced around hers, his jaw clenched, and she tried to loosen her grip, stiff fingers unwrapping from his robes, shame warming her cheeks but he only grasped them tighter, her body flush with his. 

The Zygerrian.  A gasp slipped out, shock collar cold and mocking around her neck, the static inflaming the burning skin, sending a tremble through her and she remembered Kenobi’s arms threading around her, pulling her away even as her back arched into him.  

“You need to relax.” Kenobi soothed, holding the side of her face, forcing her to look up at him as thudding agony rippled under her skin, building with each tremble of her limp body.  “You’ll only make it worse if you don’t.”

“I can’t.” Sennari sounded so pathetic, her head lolling against his chest, features screwed tightly and fresh sweat popped on her forehead. 

“You’ve never let me down in the past, Sennari.”

“There’s a first for everything.” She whimpered and amusement flashed in the Jedi’s gaze.

“Cody will have my head if I let anything happen to you.”

A shiver prickled her blood, her brow twitching.  “Think I’d like to see that.”

His chest fluttered in a silent chuckle and Sennari’s shoulders loosened.  “You’ve certainly made a lasting impression on him.”

“Be honest, General.” Sennari grunted, “I’m a headache he can’t get rid of.”

Another chuckle, another knot unwound.  “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

This time Sennari smiled, a chuckle rising in her lungs only to morph into a grimace as it prickled her wounds the wrong way.  “Damn straight.” She forced between gritted teeth.

“Easy, trooper.” Kenobi soothed, brushing the damp hair back from her face.  “Do not strain yourself.”

The tension passed, Sennari’s eyelids drooping exhaustedly but she still managed a smile.  “Have you met me?”

“And you admonish me for exhausting myself.”

“You’re my commanding officer, sir.” Sennari reminded him weakly, “You could just order me to stop.”

“I could order you to rest, as well, but you would disobey both as easily as breathing.”

Her smile grew, “So, you have met me.”

The Jedi stroked his hand up and down her arm as another tremor jolted through her, easing her through the torment as stinging jitters coursed through her blood, wiping her mind of any cohesive thought and leaving her blankly staring at the General.

“Can I ask you something, sir?” She breathed once the shudder subsided, the question popping to her mind unbidden and she continued once he nodded, desperate for any distraction.  “Why did you stop wearing your armour?”

For a long moment, Sennari thought he wouldn’t answer, a comfortable silence drawing between them and she struggled to keep her mind conscious, a murky haze curling in the corners of her mind, beckoning to her.  His voice snapped her back to the present, cutting through like the clearest bell.

“I had hoped this war would be over by now.” He admitted solemnly, a deep sadness hanging off his words and Sennari wished she could take the question back.  “The longer it drags on, the harder it becomes to keep fighting.”

Sennari hoped he didn’t hear her sharp inhale, hazel eyes stinging at the grave admission and she despised the way it resonated within her.  Every day her brothers struggled to keep their heads up, their eyes forward, slowly struggling to fight back the hopelessness.  Learning her own General shared a similar struggle, Sennari’s hopes darkened.

“It’s a choice.” Sennari replied, her voice small, unsure, but the way his hand stilled on her arm spurred her on.  “For the clones, our armour is more than just an extension of ourselves, a way to differentiate us, it’s a choice we make when we already have so few.” Sennari let the statement hang between them, revealing an entire chasm with her words she didn’t dare fall. 

“Just like the choice to fight.” Sennari paused to suppress a shrill twist down her back.  “To keep fighting, instead of just…”

She trailed off, the shrill growing to a sting and she pursed her lips tightly, pressing her forehead to his chest so he couldn’t see the pain twisting her features.

The final word passed breathlessly from him, burrowing between them and he didn’t need her affirmation to know, his hand resuming its comforting path and Sennari gave out to the weakness numbing her body. 

Instead of just surviving.

dividers by @saradika For @212thappreciation Week Day 5 Prompt: Hurt/Comfort

[qualified-trash-panda]

Master Flirt

Day 4 of 212th Appreciation Week

today's prompt being 'Lightsaber' I am not at all ashamed. we all know Obi-Wan Kenobi is a master with his *ahem* lightsaber

this one is a bit longer fyi, the writing kinda just got away from me. guess I'm getting in what the youth call 'a groove'

description: sent to retrieve vital information from a suspect, Sennari and her General get caught in quite a compromising position. all according to plan, of course.

length: 3.4k

warnings: just slightly suggestive, some innuendo (i'm not sorry) nothing more ;)

Sennari made a signal, tapping her fluted glass three times before setting it down on a passing tray, moving simultaneously with her General towards the gaudy archway at the head of the ballroom. 

The noise wasn’t as overwhelming here, the tall staircase leading out towards the entryway and a few patrons milled about the bannisters in couples and groups, chatting away, enjoying the night with shining glasses in their hands.  Sennari veered away from the stairwell, glancing once, twice, seeing a flash of the black cape Kenobi wore. 

The guard stood attentively, keen eyes flashing beneath the slit in his helmet, and Sennari made it look like she folded herself into the group hovering by the sprawling plants lining the banister. 

A scuffle caught the guard’s attention, it caught everyone’s attention, and as he stepped from the door Sennari silently slipped inside and disappeared into a quiet corridor, the sound of the party spilling underneath the gap.  That’s the easy part out of the way. 

Sennari strolled down the panelled hallway, the garish walls trimmed with gold seams, decorated with brazen paintings in a wash of colour, taking considerate steps to silence the click of her heels on the wooden flooring.  She wondered for a split second if it were real wood.

She bent and slipped out the comm and earpiece tucked into a holster beneath the folds of her flowing skirt, slipping it into her ear and triggering the device. 

“Alright, boys.” She greeted, keeping her voice low, ears trained for movement.  “Where am I going.”

Static fizzled softly as the channel connected and then Cody’s voice sounded on the other end.  “Take the current corridor down, then to the left.”

Sennari followed the corridor down to an intersection, branching down the left, her skirts swishing about her ankles as she followed Cody’s direction to the correct room. 

A set of thick doors greeted her, stark and grey, popping out from the white corridor like a bonfire on Hoth and she studied the design, her eyes pulling her to a panel on the wall. 

“Kark.” Sennari swore as the panel lit up.  “Security seal is top of the line.”

“That complicates things.”

The console itself was pretty standard, Sennari bent to study the underside, tips of her fingers following wires.  Her hazel eyes flickered back to the door, straightening to run her hands across the durasteel, running them along the tight gaps attaching it to the frame.

“I might be able to short wire it.” She frowned, tracing the door jamb.

“The last time you said that, you short wired all the doors on our escape shuttle.” Cody deadpanned, “R2 had to fly us out of there remotely.”

“Okay, so I’m no mechanic?” Sennari snarked, bending to crouch on the floor, adjusting her skirts as they tightened.  “You got a better option?”

“General Kenobi might be able to force the doors apart.”

Sennari shook her head even though they couldn’t see.  “Too loud.”  

“Fine.” Cody sighed, out of options.  “But I’m putting General Skywalker on alert for evac.”

The corner of Sennari’s lips tugged upwards, slipping a pin from her updo and using it to pry a panel free off the wall, revealing a schism of wires and circuit boards beneath.  She licked her fingers first before diving inside, picking through the mess in search of a specific wire.

The security system couldn’t be cracked but the door itself might be.  A trick Crys taught her on Juma 9.  If you can’t slice the security, slice the thing the security is used for.  Simple really.  Crys liked making things simple and as she tugged at the correct wire, cutting through it with her pin, the door shuddered, one of the wires sparking and she sucked in a breath, waving her hand briefly before carrying on. 

“How did you learn to do that?” Cody queried, the creak travelling through her comm and she tugged another wire, inching it open wide enough for her to slip inside.

“Oh, you know.” Sennari paused to suck on her finger and then slid the pin back into place in her dark hair.  “Definitely the legal way.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever said anything more suspicious in your life.”

Sennari straightened, glancing down the corridor both ways, listening and looking.  “Not to you, maybe.” Sennari muttered as she glanced around the dark room, wishing she had her HUD so she didn’t have to grope around in the black, too cautious to flip a light.

She found the console for the windows eventually, a wash of chilly air brushing over her bare skin as she cracked one open, pushing it wide and a second later General Kenobi landed atop the sill with ease. 

“Making yourself at home?” he mused as he hopped off.

“I thought I could use the fresh air.” She smiled, returning to the door to keep watch.  “All that wine has gone straight to my head.” Kenobi’s bearded lip quirked. 

The Jedi reached a hand towards the open doors, flicking his wrist, and they silently fell shut, blotting out the light spilling in from the corridor and darkness bathed them. 

“That’s better.” He murmured, relaxed, and Sennari hovered nearby, pressing her ear to the door cautiously, listening for the slightest noise.

Kenobi took out a datachip and settled in front of the computer console, getting to work on collecting the intel they needed to find the colonists whilst Sennari kept watch.

“It all seems to be in some kind of code.” He pointed out as he thumbed through it.

“R2 can crack it when we get back.” Sennari replied, pushing away from the door to join him, glancing over the rattling data as it downloaded onto the chip. 

Acidic red light bathed the room as an alarm started blaring, her body tensing as a curse slipped from her lips.  “I think that’s our cue.” She quipped and Kenobi tore the chip out.

They both returned to the window, Kenobi climbing up first and Sennari bunched her skirts as she accepted his offered hand and stepped up after him. 

“Hold on tight.” He warned and tugged her against his chest, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and he easily lifted her as he jumped.

The sudden rush freed a few rebel strands from her hair, the black whipping about her features as they dropped to the level below and Kenobi set her steady on the balcony.

The General released her and they pressed themselves flat to the wall as a brazen flashlight shone out from the room above, arcing around into the night and Sennari sucked in a breath as it wound towards them, inches away.  Now for the hard part. 

She hadn’t expected the alarm.  Difficult to account for things like that when you don’t know what you’re walking into and Cody’s voice blared in her ear.

“What’s going on?” He demanded, “Did you trigger an alarm?”

“Not intentionally.” She hissed under her breath as the General searched for the door controls, the two still plastered to the wall. 

She jerked her head in a nod as the light veered away from them and he disappeared inside, Sennari following a second later and the door whooshed shut behind them, leaving them in what looked like a bedroom.  Sennari darted across the plush carpet to the next door and pressed herself to the side, opposite the General. 

“Wait.” She called as his finger hovered by the panel, ready to open it, and reached down to grasp the sleek blaster hidden by the folds of her dress, checking the cartridge and nodding.  “Alright, ready.”

The General raised an eyebrow, glancing down her skirt, the tailored curve of the material, and Sennari smothered a small smile at the question rising. 

“Wondering what else I have hiding up there?” She whispered daringly and the General’s lips curved into a smile. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be concealing my lightsaber, would you?”

A number of remarks crossed her mind as she met his gaze through the dim light, most of them entirely inappropriate and settled for the least exciting.  “Take me to dinner first.”

The rest would bring a bright blush to even her cheeks and she filed them away for a certain blue armoured ARC trooper.

General Kenobi counted them down and snapped the door open.  Sennari pointed her blaster down one length of the corridor whilst Kenobi checked the other, the fall of his cape brushing along Sennari’s bare back and she clenched her teeth.

The alarms echoed from the corridor overhead and Sennari had to rely on the General to lead them back to the safety of the clustered ballroom and they approached every corner cautiously, dimly aware of rushing boots thumping on the ceiling overhead.

Without warning, the General slammed her back against the wall, the cold surface biting into her bare back and she bit back a snarl.

“Sir.” Sennari objected breathlessly, his hand hovering across her waist like a prison bar, his own back pressed to the wall and he peaked around the corner.

“There’s a guard.” He whispered and lowered his arm.  “Kiffar by the looks of the markings on his face.”

Delicately, Sennari inched around the General, keeping close to him and the safety of their cover as she peered around for her own look.  The tall Kiffar had long braided hair tied with a cord behind his head, white markings spiralling across his nose and Sennari glanced over his clothing, thick boots, some kind of leather vambraces, the hilt of a blade poking out the top and a nasty looking blaster holstered on his hip.  His body tensed from the alarm, hand hovering by his weapon, ready to draw at a moments notice. 

He twisted suddenly and Kenobi pulled her back by the waist, his warm touch seeping through the thin slip of her dress.  “He’s coming this way.” She whispered, fingers adjusting around her blaster.

“Perfect.” Kenobi smiled back, tilted accent dripping with sarcasm. 

“Couldn’t you just Jedi him away?” Sennari queried, casting a quick glance back the way they came.  They wouldn’t have time to make a dash for the bedroom, the door too far behind them now and she idly tucked the comm device beneath the hem of her long sleeve.

When she glanced back, Kenobi raised a single, crisp eyebrow.  “The Kiffar are an extremely strong-willed race so even if I tried to Jedi him away, I doubt it would succeed.”

Sennari winced at the tone to his voice.  She knew she’d pay for that one later.

“Is there an alternate exit?” Kenobi tried just as more footsteps echoed down the other end of the corridor, two sets by the sound of it, the Kiffar standing between them and the ballroom.  “We’re running out of time.”

A fight would only draw attention they didn’t need and Sennari concealed her blaster once again.  If it were just the Kiffar, Sennari might chance a distraction, flutter her eyelashes, pretend to be lost, but with the other approaching steps she had no chance.  Flirting with one man to get her way could be done but three? Sennari didn’t want to risk the mission on that chance.

“Any ideas?”

“One.” Sennari replied, coming to her last resort and her stomach twisted.  “But you’re not going to like it.”

“We don’t currently have a choice.”

“Alright.” Sennari knotted her fingers in his collar, pulling him against her, heart skipping a tentative beat, forcing Kenobi to take her waist to keep from flattening her to the wall.  “Hope you're good with more than just your lighstaber.”

A flush cascaded across the Jedi’s bearded cheeks.  “Excuse me?”

So much for his earlier talk.  The footfalls were coming closer, they didn’t have time for a discussion, and one hand released his collar to graze up his neck, pulling him down to press her lips flush with his.

The guard rounded the corner, Sennari’s heart flipping in her chest, the footfalls halting and she thought they were done for until the General relaxed against her.  A squeak escaped into his mouth as his hand skated around her waist, fingers dancing along her back, softly playing at the bare skin and she couldn’t stop herself arching into him.  Irritation flooded her at the cheap trick, warmth crawling up her own neck now, and if he weren’t her commanding officer – and they weren’t trying to sell it – she’d shove him off and slap him. 

The guard seemed to halt as Kenobi’s lips moved against hers and Sennari wanted to groan impatiently, stamp her feet maybe.  Why wasn’t he moving?! She wrapped an arm tighter around the General’s shoulders, his beard tickling her chin as the kiss deepened, finding his lips surprisingly soft and he responded in turn, pressing her to the wall.

“Sennari, what’s going on?” Cody’s voice rippled in her ear and a blush crept across her cheeks, the sound loud in the tense quiet, too loud.  “Report.”  

The guard shuffled, panic flickering in her chest, and Kenobi seemed to sense it, curling one gloved hand beside her ear to hide the device whilst the other dipped to curl around her thigh, the skirt riding back as he lifted her leg to his waist.  Had he heard?!  Kenobi slipped his hand beneath the hem and Sennari squeaked, her cheeks growing embarrassingly hot as his gloved hand started reaching for the weapon concealed along her thigh, her fingers ruffling his hair as she tensed to keep them trembling.

The guard cleared his voice and Kenobi snapped away, dropping her leg instantly, and Sennari pretended the blush riding her cheeks came from feigned embarrassment as she took in the Kiffar’s disapproving look.

“This area is off limits to guests.” He said gruffly, hand wrapped around his blaster.

“You’ll have to pardon us.” Kenobi tightened his grip on Sennari’s waist, tugging her close, and she tried desperately to ignore his fingers as they played with the material of her dress.  “We seem to have gotten ahead of ourselves.”

Sennari delivered a masterful giggle, melting into his embrace and the guard regarded each of them in turn. 

“I said you shouldn’t have that third glass.” Sennari pressed a kiss to his cheek.  Anything to sell it, she guessed.  “You know what you’re like.”

“Third glass?” Cody blurted in her ear and Sennari had to bite her lip to keep back a growl, his voice startling her.  “Sennari, report, now.”

“We’ve had a security breach.” The Kiffar stated blankly, still holding his blaster.  “I’m going to have to call this in, step against the wall please.”

“Oh, really?” Sennari pouted disappointedly, resting her cheek against Kenobi’s arm, stroking her hand up and down idly.  “And we were only just getting started.”

The Kiffar hesitated, “Excuse me?”

Sennari smiled darkly, taking a swaying step away from Kenobi towards the Kiffar and giggling when he caught her fingers, trying to tug her back, playing along but she shooed him off and sidled up to him.

“You wanna know the kind of plans you’d interrupt if you called us in?” she cooed, fingers walking themselves up his arm and he reached to her toes to whisper in his ear.

Sennari held Kenobi’s gaze as she whispered, a slow, bemused smile filling his bearded lips, aware of the other two guards rounding the corner behind the Jedi and barely paid half a mind to the filth coming off her tongue.

The Kiffar, however, loosened his grip on his blaster and Sennari saw the bit in his throat rise and fall in a swallow, a smug smirk lining her lips as she drew away. 

“What’s going on here.” One of the other guards demanded as he approached, bright eyes a storm through the slit in his helmet.

Sennari raised her eyebrows hopefully at the Kiffar, straightening his collar before stepping away and returning to Kenobi’s outstretched hand, entwining her fingers with his.

“Nothing.” The Kiffar replied and Sennari broke out into a grin.  “I’ve handled it.” He swept aside to allow them to pass, urging them along.

He caught Kenobi’s shoulder as they passed, halting them and Sennari’s heart skipped a beat at his intense gaze.  “You’re one lucky man.” The Kiffar hissed, shooting a pointed look at Sennari.

Kenobi followed his gaze, blue eyes burning with amusement, “You have no idea.”

Warmth fluttered in Sennari’s chest and she winked, leaving them to decide who it was for, and the Kiffar released Kenobi with a shove back towards the ballroom.  He followed behind and Kenobi wound his arm around her waist again, leaning to whisper something in her ear. 

“Whatever you told him…” Kenobi kept his voice low enough only Sennari heard.  “I do hope it didn’t give the Commander a heart attack.”

A blush exploded up Sennari’s neck, tinging her tanned cheeks as they found themselves back in the crowded ballroom, and she shot a sharp look at the General, the laughter clear in his blue eyes as they started through the bustling guests.  She’d completely forgotten she had Cody in her ear and tapped the piece once they blended into the glittering bodies.

“Cody?” She swallowed, nerves sparking in her chest and she smothered them before another blush heated her.  “Cody, come in.”

A tense beat, then.  “Not a word, Sennari, not a karking word.”

Right.  Sennari cleared her throat, ignoring the fact she’d never heard the Commander swear before, and focused on the rest of the mission.  “You can tell General Skywalker we’re ready for that extraction.”

Sennari took the General’s offered arm as they descended the staircase just as she had when they entered, lifting her skirt to avoid tripping and took a long breath to catch herself.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, General.” Sennari chatted as the chill of the night air bit into her exposed skin, the two of them waiting patiently for Skywalker to arrive and the Jedi frowned down at her, his hair slightly ruffled.  “But you’re surprisingly good at that.”

His features pulled up in a fleeting smile.  “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Their speeder glided into place before them, Skywalker sat behind the wheel with a curious look on his face beneath the pilot’s helmet, blending seamlessly with his disguise.  Kenobi held Sennari’s hand as she stepped into the backseat, hiking the hem of her skirt up, and then he settled beside Skywalker in the front.

“Everything alright?” Skywalker asked gently as the speeder hummed, drawing away from the front of the building.

Kenobi lightly frowned, “Perfectly, why?”

“You look a little flustered.” Skywalker concentrated on the road ahead as Kenobi glanced his appearance in the side mirror, hands flying to smooth down his ruffled hair, straightening his collar from where Sennari tugged on it.

Sennari cleared her throat, taking a second to side eye the General and Skywalker didn’t miss the beat that passed between them, curling a brow up at his old Master.

“Things might’ve got a little heated in there.” Sennari explained, barely concealing a smile. "The General could've used a lightsaber."

“Yes.” Kenobi agreed, shooting a look over his shoulder as Anakin dug around and drew the blade out.  “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

General Skywalker tugged his brows in a frown, believing none of it and Sennari gave her best innocent look, letting her commanding officer take the lead explaining.  “Cody said something about an alarm?”

“Triggered when we downloaded the information.”

“Then something about a guard?”

“Sennari handled it quite well.”

“Is that why her lipstick is all smeared?”

Sennari pursed her lips together, suddenly finding their surroundings extremely interesting as Kenobi shot her another look and giving away more with that alone.  Lightsaber clenched tight in his hand.

“Desperate times.” Sennari shrugged a single shoulder as she lifted a hand to fix her lipstick jokingly.  As if it mattered now.

A smirk quirked Skywalkers features as he picked up some speed, the wind delicately jangling the chains around her shoulders and goosebumps popped on her bare skin.

He threw her a comment over his shoulder, “That bad?”

Sennari hid her smile behind a scratch of her nose as Kenobi regarded his former padawan flatly.  “Sorry, General, I don’t kiss and tell.” She quipped innocently and Kenobi leaned back over the seat to shoot her an even flatter look.

“We needed a distraction and ARC Trooper Sennari’s quick thinking was happy to oblige.” Kenobi explained begrudgingly as Skywalker’s cackle got lost when Cody’s voice broke over his comm device. 

“General Skywalker, is your retrieval confirmed?”

Skywalker lifted his wrist to his lips, “Confirmed.” He reported, “En route to the Twilight.” He eyed them again, dropping his wrist, but kept quiet.  A smug look on his features. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Master Flirt indeed.

dividers by @saradika For @212thappreciation Week Day 4 Prompt: Lightsabers

[qualified-trash-panda]

Collusion

Day 3 of 212th Appreciation Week

today's prompt being 'Padawans' you know I had to do something including Ahsoka. that girl means the absolute world to me.

description: quickest way to embarrass your vod, get a jedi involved.

length: 1.7k

warnings: very light gambling

Crys had the cups laid out atop a beaten-up box.  Sat cross legged behind, a shit eating grin on his face as the brother opposite lost to his latest round of mischief.

“You’re gonna get in trouble.” Trapper commented in passing, pausing to glance over the box and the brother’s disappointed look as he shuffled away and let the next take his place.

“And it’s another Taunsgday.” Crys scoffed, setting down the tiny white crystal he picked up on Christophsis.  “What’s your point?”

He’d gathered an audience by now, a curious gaggle of clones clustered in a circle around him, watching each brother lose time after time and wondering if they might be the lucky ones.  Wooley rolled his eyes.  Fat chance of that, Crys had been cheating since the start. 

“Not you too, Reed.” Wooley groaned as he plopped his helmet on the durasteel floor, taking a seat in front of the box.

“He’s got me hooked, vod’ika.” Reed whined as Crys flashed the shiny crystal and set it below the middle cup, upturning the other two beside it.  “I can’t help myself.”

“You mean this is the second time you’ve lost your money?”

“Third.” A brother chirped beside him, holding up three fingers.

Wooley ran a hand down his plain features, Reed’s brown eyes glued to the cups as Crys began to move them.  Slowly, at first, hooking the di’kut in.  Then faster, spinning the cups around the box so quickly Wooley struggled to keep up.  But he didn’t miss the crook of his hand as he swept the crystal up into his sleeve and swiftly swapped cups.  The bugger. 

“Alright, lads.” Crys lined the three cups in a row and lifted his hands off, holding them high.  “Where’s the crystal?”

A half dozen voices erupted, claiming one cup or another, fingers pointing, flying all over the place.  Whilst Reed sat with his elbow propped on his knee, studying the cups, gloved fingers stroking his chin as his brows pulled into the deepest frown.

“This one.” He placed a finger atop the leftmost cup, beaming.

Wooley groaned silently on his behalf as Crys lifted the cup to reveal nothing underneath and Reed’s eyes bugged out of his head. 

“I swear, I had it this time!” Reed exclaimed as Crys lifted the other two cups and deftly swapped the crystal back in.

“No luck, buddy.” Crys grinned, flashing Wooley a wink as he held his palm up.  “Pay up.”

Reed’s lips moved as he grumbled under his breath, taking out a single credit and dropping it in Crys’ expectant hand, the shiny coin joining the small pile he’d collected. 

“Drinks are on me tomorrow, lads.” He snickered and prodded the growing pile, the gold gleaming in the brash light of the rec room. 

“Force, he’s unstoppable.” Longshot shook his head, threading a hand through his uppercut, the strands falling lazily about his head.

Force.  An idea blossomed in Wooley’s mind, slow smile spreading across his cheeks.  “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He slipped free of the circle, scanning quick eyes across the collection of clones and finding only orange stripes and swirls staring back at him.  Wooley ventured from the recreational room and deeper into the venator, popping his head in the training room, the meditation room.  Possibly the medbay? Anywhere he might find the specific blue and white striped montrals he searched for and eventually found the Togruta buried beneath her starfighter in the hangar.

Shuffling on his feet half a second before clearing his throat, R2’s domed head circling around to greet him with a shrill chirp, Wooley stepped closer to the distracted padawan.  “Excuse me, sir.”

Commander Tano wheeled herself out from beneath the starfighter, brows pulled together curiously and lifted the reflective goggles off.  “Trooper Wooley?” She pushed into sitting position. 

“Are you busy, sir?” Wooley queried, clasping his hands casually behind his back to keep from fiddling with them.

“Just idling.” She shrugged and slipped the goggles off her head, setting them down beside her tools in a box.  “What can I do for you?”

“That entirely depends on how much trouble you’re willing to get into.” Wooley started and the Commander blinked.  “If we get caught.”

“If we get caught?” She repeated, raising her eyebrow, white markings curving upwards on her burnt orange skin.

Wooley held out a hand and the Togruta took it, letting Wooley pull her to her feet and she dusted off her hands. 

“Crys still owes you from sabacc, doesn’t he?” Wooley guessed and the Commander nodded sourly.  “What if I tell you I can pay off that debt?”

Ahsoka considered, “I’m listening.”

A mischievous spark ignited in Wooley’s brown eyes, a smile pulling across his lips and he explained the plan on their way to the rec room.  Promising half the winnings if it worked and the Commander took a lot less convincing than Wooley expected.  He shouldn’t be surprised, Ahsoka was General Skywalker’s padawan after all.  Like two droids from the same assembly line, that pair.

Wooley slipped inside first, returning to find the circle clustered around Crys had grown, as had the collection of credits, and his smug grin. 

“Where’d you run off too?” Waxer frowned as Wooley returned, shuffling aside so he could plant himself on the edge of his seat.

“Fresher.” Wooley lied as Boil squeezed him between the two of them.

The door zipped open and Wooley caught sight of the Commander strolling across as Crys finished the latest round, the circle of clones erupting in disbelief as he revealed the location of the crystal beneath the middle cup. 

“Sorry, vod.” Crys shook his head mockingly, taking the credit.  “Better luck next time.” He set it down on the pile, the metal clinking, and glanced up.  “Who’s next?”

An orange hand shot up, Crys’ grin twitching, and the circle shuffled to admit the tiny Togruta, the corner of Wooley’s lip perking as someone whistled.  Low and tense.

“I’ll give it a go.” Ahsoka accepted, dropping down in front of the box.  Legs crossed, back perfectly straight.  Twinkle in her unsettlingly blue eyes.

“Uh, Commander?” Crys blurted, staring blankly at the Togruta.

Wooley nudged him with the tip of his boot and he swayed.  “I think he’s short circuiting.”

“Finally lost your touch, huh Crys?” Boil mocked and the bottle blond shook his head, glaring at his two squadmates as they snickered.

“It was an open invitation?” Ahsoka queried, crossing her arms over her chest, a slight curve to her lip.  “Anyone can join?”

“Of course, Commander.” Crys resumed his smile but it didn’t quite touch his eyes.  “You know the rules?”

“Guess which cup the crystal’s under.” She nodded as he set them up.

Crys flashed the white crystal, slipping it beneath the middle cup, showing it off atop the box before setting it down.  “You ready?”

Ahsoka pulled a credit from a pouch at her belt, setting it atop the box, and returned his confident smile.  “Always.”

Crys chuckled awkwardly as he began sliding the cups around and Wooley hid his conspiratorial smile beneath a gloved hand, watching the confidence drain from Crys’ features under Ahsoka’s unwavering stare.  Even Wooley lost track of how many times he switched the crystal, seeing it shine at least twice in the light, but Ahsoka’s gaze never left the clone.

Finally, he let the cups rest, pulling his hands away, spreading them and offering her the guess.  Ahsoka didn’t even hesitate, tapping the central cup twice and Crys tensed.  He lifted the cup and there the crystal sat, shining innocently, a roar exploding from the gathered clones.

“No kriffing way.” Longshot breathed, leaning forwards.

Crys gingerly handed over a credit as Ahsoka grinned.  “Beginners luck?”

“Why don’t you test that theory?” Wooley prompted, sharing a look with the Commander.  “In fact, why not make this more interesting?”

Crys glared at him.  “Not interesting enough for you?”

“Hear him out.” Boil smirked, intrigued.

Wooley winked, “Double or nothing?”

A low murmur spread through his audience, a mix of agreement and doubt, and Crys gave Wooley a clipped smile.  “Alright.” He agreed, picking out two credits.  “Double or nothing.”

The cups were set up a second time, Ahsoka won a second time and the clones lost their minds.  On and on it went until Crys barely had any credits left, so intent on beating the Commander he wasted away all his earnings.  Wooley watched the padawan curl her fingers around her arm during the last round, pulling the crystal back into a cup using the Force and proceeded to tap the winning cup.

The smuggest grin broke out across Crys’ features as he lifted the cup, the beginnings of a victorious jab on his tongue dying the second the crystal flashed in the light.  “What?” He exclaimed, slamming the cup down, staring at the crystal as if it personally offended him.  “That’s not karking possible.”

“Why’s that, Crys?” Wooley could barely contain his glee, cocking his head innocently.  Strands of his mohawk tilting.

Crys could only splutter, gesturing to the crystal, to the Commander as she pocketed her winnings, waving the cup around as if it would summon an explanation for him.

“Thanks for the game, trooper.” Commander Tano smiled as she stood, her belt pouch clinking.  “I had a lot of fun.”

Wooley almost choked on a laugh, pursing his lips to keep the noise trapped in his throat, and Waxer eyed him sideways.  He pushed off his seat and followed the Togruta out, pausing to chat with a few troopers before leaving, glancing around warily before meeting her back by the hangar. 

“A pleasure doing business with you.” Commander Tano grinned as she piled half the credits in Wooley’s gloved palm. 

“Spear two fleek-eels with one trident, as they say.” Wooley joked, tucking the credits away safely at his belt.  “Suits him right for cheating.”

Ahsoka didn’t seem surprised.  “You embarrass your brothers like that often?”

Wooley grinned wickedly, “Oh, any chance I get.” The Togruta’s bright laughter left him beaming in the corridor as she walked away, answering her pinging comm and Wooley tapped the credits in their compartment on his belt.  Smiling proudly to himself. 

dividers by @saradika-graphics For @212thappreciation Week Day 3 Prompt: Padawans

[qualified-trash-panda]

The Sole Survivor

Day 2 of 212th Appreciation Week

today's prompt is 'Adoption/Accidental Acquisition'

this one was an absolute no brainer for me, it had to involve Cody he is such a father figure to my OC (in my head he adopted her the day he saw her ratty ass he just didn't know it) and no one can convince me he isn't buir material.

description: sent to search out any survivors following the fall of Syrac Base, Commander Cody finds a tragedy in its wake.

length: 3k

warnings: mentions of gunshots, wounds, blood etc

“This is it.” Cody determined, switching off the scan and tucking the holodevice in a pouch at his belt, returning both hands to his blaster carbine.  “The fire never spread as far as command but scans are showing heat signatures.”

“Well then…” General Kenobi gestured for them to back up in the little room the tunnel allowed, the shuffle of boots kicking up tiny whisps of dust.

Cody ensured a line of troopers kept to the General’s back, blasters ready, as the Jedi extended his hands towards the blockage.  The arch of the tunnel had collapsed around the blast doors, blocking the control panel, and whilst the gunships worked to put out the worst parts of the fire and dislodge larger chunks of crumbled rock so they could salvage what little remained, they couldn’t fit the heavier machinery down the spiralling tunnels of the central base. 

The rocks shifted, a crumble of dust spilling from above, as General Kenobi concentrated.  Initial scans showed no life signs from above.  The base lay in complete ruin, fire ravaging what little remained, distorting any thermal scans they conducted, but the trooper they rescued insisted there’d be someone left alive.  Something in his voice convinced the General even when Cody began to doubt and he’d spent hours clearing through tunnel after tunnel, his exhaustion showing in tired lines on his bearded face, dark shadows popping out beneath his eyes and Cody knew if he pushed any harder he’d expend what little energy he had left.  If he didn’t stop soon, Cody would start to insist.  No one could survive this.

Chunks of rock scraped across the rugged, scorched ground as the General cleared the blast doors, the metal screeching and puffing a cloud of dust that distorted his vision, his visor applicator working double time to clear the scene ahead but it lay so thick in the air it did little good. 

Blasters clicked as his troopers advanced cautiously, approaching the darkness inside as if it were a rabid animal, a scattering of blinking lights twitching like beady eyes watching and Cody heard another pillar of dust pour from somewhere inside to scatter across the rocky ground but otherwise not a single sound could be heard.

Except… Cody frowned beneath his helmet, trying to listen harder, and picked out the shaky hitch of heavy breathing.  The pulse of a weak heartbeat picked up on his HUD. With a wave of his hand, Kenobi cleared the lingering dust and one by one flashlights switched on, illuminating the shadows within.

A single form stood out in the cascading light, torches focusing on the figure, hands tightening around blasters as they flashed across a pointed weapon.  “Wait.” General Kenobi whispered, grasping the nose of Cody’s blaster as he stepped past and the troopers stilled, his auburn head, covered in dust, nodded to the figure.  “Look closer.”

Cody did.  His gaze trailed up, picking out the discoloured boots, the frayed armour, the blaster pistol locked in their tight grip and the savage curl of their lip. 

No.  He sucked in a breath as he saw it and Kenobi released his weapon, the blaster falling to his side.  Not discoloured, just dusty.  The armour up their legs, Cody wore the exact same kind, but they were scratched, stained, barely recognizable in the din, the breastplate, the arm plating both gone.

“Lower your weapons.” Cody murmured and the troopers obliged, stepping back as Cody stepped forward. 

The strange clone tensed as he did, the single DC-17 in their hand shaking, trained on him, chest rising and falling in rapid shakes. 

“Easy, soldier.” Cody calmed, bending to settle his own blaster on the ground and lifted the helmet from his head, the dust immediately catching in his nose, the thick air pressing in on him but he left it beside the blaster, straightening.

He stayed put, subtly gesturing with one hand and his troopers tentatively backed up until they were back in the tunnel, even the General retreated, lingering only in the doorway, watching intently for sudden movements that might threaten his Commander.

“What’s your designation?” Cody asked, his voice low and steady, tilting his body minutely to get a better look at their features behind the blaster. 

Cody refrained from sucking in another breath.  Not a regular clone.  He gave her another look, keeping his features open, easy, as he scrutinized her.  No upper armour, her blacks shredded around the shoulders, her sides, revealing scrapes and bruises decorating tanned skin and a long line of red trickled down the side of her head from a deep gash that needed treating soon, her curled lip swollen, broken and she had a nasty black eye on top of it all, a tumble of knotted black hair half covering a scattering of scrapes on her cheek.

Another clone lay beneath her, her feet planted solidly over him, and Cody thought he might need help, his lips parting to offer it until his gaze found the clones unseeing eyes, the hole in his chest, and quickly shut them.  What the kriff had she gone through not to recognize her own men? For someone to survive carnage like this…

“My name is Cody, Commander of the 212th.” He gestured behind towards the Jedi and she tensed again, a rakish sob escaping the snarl.  “This is General Obi-Wan Kenobi, we’re here to extract you and the survivors.”

“There are no survivors.” It’s the first words she’d spoken and they came out torn and rattled. Clenching around Cody's heart.

Cody risked a glance over his shoulder at the General, finding the same flash of darkness cross his gaze that threatened to tug down Cody’s brows and the survivor’s arms trembled.

“What happened here, trooper?” General Kenobi asked calmly.

No. Cody knew she wouldn’t answer questions like that in this state, her jaw clenching, and the tremble in her arms grew, spreading to her shoulders.  How long had she been standing here?

“Easy, trooper.” Cody reached out towards her with a gentle hand, easing forwards.  “The fight is over.” He assured her, “You did your duty.”

A single crease smoothed her features, the white of her knuckles grasping the blaster relaxing and Cody took another step closer, keeping his voice as soft as he could.  “Look at me, trooper, I’m a clone just like you.” He placed a hand on his breastplate, drawing her frightened hazel gaze to him and not the troopers, not the General.  Just him.  “I’m not going to hurt you, vod’ika.”

Her features released the snarl and she stared at him with such fear it resonated deep in his stomach, stirring a crest of pain in his own heart, and he carefully settled his fingers atop hers on the blaster. 

“I’ve got you now.” He promised, inching closer, nudging the blaster down slowly.  “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

Her grip on the blaster loosened, Cody’s tightening, and he eased it from her fingers, placing tentative fingers on her tightly wound shoulders to distract her.  A pained, shaky breath slipped from her lips at the touch, draining whatever fight she had left in her and Cody saw the strength vanish from her gaze, the hazel brimming with pure, unadulterated fear now. 

Cody took the blaster and gestured with it to another trooper, feet shuffling in the dust to come and grab it whilst the Commander still clung to the trembling trooper. 

“That’s it.” Cody calmed and drew her from the body she stood over, keeping her concentration focused on him as the rest of his troopers slowly ventured into the command centre to retrieve what information they could. 

He trusted a brother to retrieve his helmet, his blaster, and instead focused on getting the trooper out of there and into a medic’s capable hands.  The General stuck close behind as they traversed the narrow tunnel, soon returning to the collapsed section and inching through one at a time, Cody in front to coax the survivor through and Kenobi behind with a gently raised hand.  She looked about ready to collapse, hair knotted at every angle, the blood spilling down the side of her face and sunken sockets distorting the nasty bruise around her eye, a paleness to her supposedly tanned skin.

“Cody.” Kenobi whispered almost imperceptibly as they came out the other side, his usually piercing gaze shadowed and nodding to the survivors back.

He stole a glance as his hands found her shoulders, easing her onwards again, and eyes widened when he spotted what the General saw. 

A dozen nasty, untended and angry red gashes littered her back, tearing up her blacks, some of them older, some oozing a trickle of blood down the tanned skin, and parts of her shirt looked darker than others in the bright floodlights.

“You actually found one?” The first medic he found gawked, mouth snapping shut when Cody hissed out a low shush, snapping the troopers name, the three of them appearing in the meagre staging area they scraped out in the rubble.

He settled the survivor atop a jagged chunk of rock as gently as he could, Chance’s steady hands helping, and he unhooked the pack from his shoulders, setting it beside him and flipped it open.  Then he saw her back

“She’s in bad shape.” Cody knelt beside her, the brash floodlights better illuminating the hundreds of scrapes covering her body and Cody nodded the medic to the gashes lining her back.

“I don’t dare touch those without a sterile environment.” Chance assessed, unable to keep the anger clouding his gaze.  “We need to get her aboard the Negotiator.”

“Do it.” Cody instructed, more forcefully than he intended, and straightened to help lift her to her feet.

“Commander.” A blunt voice stopped him, the survivor clutched between him and Chance, waiting as Cody twisted to find Boil standing rigidly.  “There’s something you should see.”

A single glance at her frightened gaze, the way her eyes followed him, told him to stay and Chance lingered, waiting for his decision.  “Gearshift!” Cody called out and a stiff trooper rushed to him, thankfully returning his helmet.  The trooper took over for him and they set her back on the rock.  “I won’t be long.”

“Yes, sir.” Gearshift responded, standing close by her side without needing to be asked.

Cody followed Boil through the little space they’d cleared in the base, forced to climb over a jagged chunk of rock embedded in the stairwell just to reach what should be the sprawling central courtyard.  Bits of machinery, shards of crushed speeder bikes and heavy artillery littered the ground, Cody spotted a blaster here and there and a worrying smell lingered in the thick air.  Cody settled his helmet back on, his filters blocking it out.  He’d been on Jabiim during the massacre, he knew what that smell meant, and his stomach dropped. 

The gunships hadn’t cleared much of the courtyard, but enough to know.  As they’d been working towards the command, towards the last heat signature worth exploring, his troopers had been down here pulling body after body from the wreck.  A line of them lay flat on the outskirts, dried blood staining misshapen cracks in their armour from being buried beneath the rubble, but they all carried one distinctive mark and Cody closed his eyes. 

A single blaster shot to the head.  Execution style. 

“Maker, what happened here?” Cody whispered under his breath, unconsciously counting the bodies they pulled out from the little space cleared and doing the math in his head, swallowing once he came to an answer and his jaw clenched.

“We found a Trandoshan amongst the rubble.” Boil reported and Cody followed his pointed finger to the limp reptile in a shadowed corner.

A Trandoshan? Cody frowned beneath the helmet, the addition only adding to the confusion in his mind.  “Tell the boys to find out what they can from the command centre.” Cody instructed, having left a squad of troopers up there.  “And Boil,” Cody grasped the trooper’s arm as he twisted.  “Make sure the data is transferred to my channels alone.”

Cody knew he’d find nothing good there, releasing Boil, and didn’t need the answers splayed across the holonet for all the GAR to see.  What they found already was bad enough. 

“I shall have to inform the Council we’ve lost Syrac.” General Kenobi said gravely, and Cody twisted, he hadn’t notice the General follow him down. Missing his brown robe.

“I thought the Separatists were routed from the system?” They couldn’t find a single trace of the droid army other than the occasional metal carcass.

“Whilst that is true, I would hardly call this a victory.” Kenobi’s gaze darkened, his usually piercing eyes hooded and fixed on the fallen.  “Tell the men to stop their search.”

Cody’s gut clenched, glancing back at the troopers, a pair of them pulling another body from the wreckage, the implication clear.  They’d find nothing more here.  He knew better than to argue with a Jedi’s instincts but he still wanted to, a needle of hope worming into his heart after finding her. 

“We have orders to reinforce General Skywalker on Christophsis.” General Kenobi added, sensing his Commanders hesitation.  “We cannot delay any longer.”

“Understood, sir.” Cody shifted his feet, standing rigidly to attention, and began relaying orders to the men through his comms. 

They returned to the staging area as the ships clearing the rubble safely discarded their pieces, pulling back, the equipment packed up, bathing the mystery in darkness once again, and a record made of the fallen brothers they did find, including the one in command.  Cody counted a secret tally in his mind for every trooper left unfound, buried beneath the rubble, consumed by the fire or worse.  An entire battalion’s worth wiped out and he stepped aboard a gunship with the sole survivor. 

One of the deadliest battlegrounds of the war so far came to an end after weeks of struggle and he didn’t even know how.  Just a lone survivor left to tell the story, if she even could. 

“Sir?” A light voice perked beside him as the blast doors locked shut, the gunship entering the upper atmosphere and rocked from the turbulence. 

“What is it, Waxer?”

“A female clone?”

His head tilted, regarding the clone through his helmet, studying the long stripe of orange painted down the centre, imagining the confusion crossing his square features underneath.

“I know.” Another question to add to his growing pile.

Cody glanced back at the trooper, her hazel eyes hollowing, Kenobi's dusty brown robe settled around her shoulders, and sympathy spiked in his chest.  He knew that look all too well, the thoughts that must be racing behind her eyes.

The gunship landed smoothly in the hangar and Cody guided the survivor down, her feet moving but his hand hovered around her, eyes watching just as carefully as Chance’s and the medic kept muttering to himself that she should be on a stretcher.

A shout echoed over to them across the hangar and another shiny came stumbling over on a crutch, his armour coated in the same dust as the survivors, and Cody recognized him.  The trooper they picked up on the ridge, the one who sent the transmission.  Ricochet?

“You’re alive.” He shook out his relief, dropping his crutch, the medic trailing after him muttering some apology about how he refused help until he knew his squad was safe.  “I saw the base go up, I saw it all, and I didn’t believe…” He grasped her shoulders, shaking her, and Cody wanted to gently push him away, worried she’d crumble under his grip.  “Where is everyone?”

Ricochet peered deep into her face, even as her head dipped down to the floor, chin almost to her chest to avoid looking at him and the confusion spilled into his open features. 

“Ninety-Four?” Ricochet pressed, his voice shaking now.  “Ninety-Four, where are they?” He shook her again, lightly, the reaction of a man who slowly began to realize, and it was only when he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him that Cody stepped in.  “Where are they?!”

“That’s enough, trooper.” Cody insisted gently, with an edge of authority, and settled a hand on Ricochet’s arm.

“Not until she answers me.” Ricochet snapped but his hand dropped from her chin, taking her shoulder rougher than before.

“I think you know.” Cody tightened his grip on Ricochet. A silent warning.

The fragile control in Ricochet’s features snapped and his arms fell from Ninety-Four’s shoulders, his gaze darkening and his lip curled. 

“They’re all dead.” He glowered and Cody tensed at the rage in his voice.  “Our entire squad, they’re dead.” His fingers formed fists at his side.  “Because of you.”

Cody glowered at the accusation, about to let his authority as Commander outweigh the kindness in his voice when Gearshift stepped up, looming over Ricochet. His extra bulk outweighing the fact they were the same height.

“Jax was right about you.” Ricochet spat, undeterred by the silent threat growing in Gearshift’s gaze, the trickle of 212th who overheard wordlessly coming to stand behind her.  “You’re just a mistake, and you got them killed.”

“Watch your tone, brother.” Someone spat and Cody picked out the curving branches atop Cale’s helmet, his fists knotted at his side.

Only then did Ricochet spot them, the growing tide mounting behind Ninety-Four, and he shot her one last scathing look before storming off, wobbling on his injured leg and his medic retrieved the crutch, forcing it into his hands, making him walk with just the stick for support.

“Whatever happened down there is not your fault.” Cody told her quietly, assertively, stepping around to face her, watching the General retreat towards the bridge when he should be getting rest himself.  “I do not want you blaming yourself for this, that is an order, Ninety-Four.”

“Sennari.”

Cody’s gaze snapped to her, thinking he’d misheard, but Chance looked more shocked than he did, her voice spilling out strong and chillingly confident.  

“What was that, trooper?”

She repeated it again, somehow stronger, and a deathly familiar look haunted her hollow hazel eyes as she lifted them. 

“My name is Sennari.”

Sennari. Cody mulled over the word, sharing a look with Chance and the medic mouthed a frowning question. As in the poison? Cody took in the shaking clench of her dirty fist, the skin torn, nails hoarding dirt, and the feral look in her eye. He remembered the Trandoshan, his sickly greying skin. Exactly like the poison.

The Commander didn't even need to think twice. "Alright, Sennari." He clenched his hands behind his backs, her searching eyes finding his through his helmet, locking in his gaze.

"Welcome to the 212th Attack Battalion."

vod'ika = little sibling (in this context little brother) dividers by @saradika For @212thappreciation Week Day 2 Prompt: Adoption/Accidental Acquisition

[qualified-trash-panda]

Orange Inspiration

Day 1 of 212th Appreciation Week

today's prompt is 'Clone Culture/Traditions'

the first prompt is 'Clone Culture/Traditions' encompassing stuff like choosing a name, choosing paint, how they remember fallen brothers etc and whilst I loved the idea of exploring armour design and clone tattoos etc I wanted to do something very 212th and remembered the 'Plo's Bros' canon nose art and the rest is history.

description: when inspiration strikes, it strikes hard.

length: 800ish words

no warnings! enjoy!

“Watch it.” A scathing voice snapped at Waxer as he worked his way round the gunship with a bucket and a brush, almost tipping a can of paint with his foot.

Waxer searched out the voice, finding the familiar pilot with the splattering of orange paint up his boots standing and staring down the nose of his LAAT, a dozen other cans in various sizes scattered at his feet.

“Something up, Oddball?” Waxer queried, frustration knotting the pilots dark features together, his hand threading through his mop of an undercut.

He grabbed Waxer’s shoulders, twisting him towards the nose.  “It doesn’t look right.” He told him, “What do you think?”

Oddball had sketched an intricate design on the nose in graphite.  The symbol of the Open Circle played as a background to the Jedi sigil before it, two lightsabers added in a cross over the top and Waxer marvelled at the detail.  He thought he’d done a pretty good job with Numa, but this was something else.

“You continue to amaze, Dav.” Waxer shrugged off his hands, offering a kind smile.

Oddball didn’t seem to hear the compliment, frustration smoothing over as he decided.  “It’s too much.” He snatched the dripping brush from Waxer’s hands, climbing up onto the crate shoved against the nose, and scrubbed off the design.  “I’m out of ideas.”

Waxer glanced up when Boil shouted down from atop the wing of the gunship they were cleaning and he fetched a fresh bucket of water, holding it up to his brother.  “What’s up with Davijaan?” He questioned, taking the bucket with both hands.  Moustache twitching.

“Lack of inspiration.” Waxer replied, handing off the bucket.  “I think it’s the sleep deprivation.”

“I heard that.” Oddball snapped, chucking back the brush and Waxer fumbled to catch it, but it didn’t change the dark bags hanging under his eyes.

“Why you repainting, anyway?” Waxer frowned, “What happened to the gundark?”

“Got bored.” He answered, retrieving his graphite and ignoring the way it smudged grey across his face as he pressed it to his chin thoughtfully.

“Want some life modelling?” Crys joked, overhearing, and struck a pose on the floor.

The paintbrush hit him square in the face and Crys recoiled.  Oddball got mean when he hadn’t slept but this time Waxer didn’t blame him.  Rolling his eyes at the acidic blond.

“Pinups are cheap.” Oddball chided, “I want something that’s us, you know?”

Raised voices echoed from further in the hangar as footsteps caught on the durasteel floor and at the first sight of his orange visor, Waxer clamoured to make himself look busy, dunking the brush in his own bucket and stroking down the ships blast doors.

Cody and the General were arguing about something as they made their way to the turbolifts, Waxer caught bare scraps, but already he saw the frustration in Oddball seeping out.  Nothing more 212th than that.  He dropped the brush, sweeping up his datapad where it sat beside his helmet and discreetly snapped a holograph at the perfect moment, Cody’s finger shoved in the General’s face whilst the Jedi gave him a bemused look. 

Oddball whistled him over, passing a stick of graphite as he propped the datapad against the side of the gunship as a reference and the two set to work.  The final result ended up more cartoonish than they intended, Oddball hadn’t been happy until Cody’s helmet looked like it was about to snap with how angry he made him, eccentric eyebrows curved as far downward as possible, and Waxer added an unnecessary twinkle to the General’s toothy grin, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead once finished and smudging paint across the tanned skin.

“Not bad.” Oddball assessed, his arms crossed over his chest.  “General Grievous will know it’s us coming for him now.”

Waxer snorted, “Pretty sure he always knows it’s us.”

“What’s the tally at now?”

“Wolffe’s up by one.” Waxer recalled, “We’re holding strong at ten." He glanced at him with a sly grin.  “You’re keeping the holograph, right?”

“Couldn’t pay me to delete it.” Oddball started gathering up his tins.  “How d’you think the Commander’ll take it?”

Waxer glanced back to the turbo lifts, Cody’s tall form striding towards them with his helmet tucked to his hip.  “We’re about to find out.”

Oddball straightened, pride gleaming in his wide grin and he flourished a hand towards the comical artwork.  “Care to autograph?”

Cody glanced at the nose and merely blinked, his features flat as they turned back.  “I’m sure the General will be thrilled.”

Oddball clapped his hands together.  “I’m glad you like it.”

dividers by @saradika For @212thappreciation Week Day 1 Prompt: Clone Culture

[qualified-trash-panda]

HAPPY PRIDE MY FELLOW GAYS!!! How could I draw anyone but our beloved Sister to celebrate 🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵

Her design is just hgdhfhsjdhansha makin my lesbian ass go feral

[qualified-trash-panda]

the 212th are a big part of my WIP so will be taking part next week

love my sunshine boys xx

2025 Prompts!

Here are the 2025 212th Appreciation Week Prompts Lists!

Event: June 15th-21st

Standard Day 1- Clone Culture/Traditions Day 2- Adoption/Accidental Acquisition Day 3- Padawans Day 4- Lightsabers Day 5- Hurt/Comfort Day 6- Clone Life Day 7- Touch Hey Mods, what's the difference between Clone Culture/Traditions and Clone Life? We're glad you asked! Here's how we see it! Clone Culture/Traditions encompasses things such as choosing a name, choosing paint, how they remember fallen clones, what being "brothers" means to the clones, etc. Clone Life on the other hand covers things like training, specialties, fighting, The Terrible Food, the mundane day to day of the GAR. But these aren't the only valid interpretations! We look forward to seeing what everyone does with them.

AU Prompts

Day 1- Time Travel Day 2- Canon Divergence Day 3- Soulmate Day 4- Mandalorian Clones Day 5- Dragons Day 6- Wings Day 7- Eldritch Clones/Lovecraftian

NSFW prompts below the cut!

Day 1- Sparring Into Sex Day 2- Post Battle Sex Day 3- Cock Warming Day 4- Commander Cody Day 5- Bed sharing Day 6- Free Use Day 7- Sex Pollen/Fuck or Die

[qualified-trash-panda]

caf. he'd do caf.

I’m gonna need everyone to hear me out:

Text on drawing:

- Palpatine decides to experiment on the durability of the chip. From the moment CC-1010 was decanted to the moment of death he was controlled by the chip. (Or the was what was intended)

- However, deep inside CC-1010’s control Fox has some awareness to the world around him, but he cannot intervene.

- As other clones only know 1010 they are unaware of Fox’s situation.

- However, the Chancellor’s plans begin to unravel when an accident involving an electrical current short circuit Fox’s, already degrading, chip.

- This results in Fox being free for the first time in his life.

- The question is, what does he do now?

[qualified-trash-panda]

too cute. obsessed

Fox and some office Tookas! I felt like drawing some animals, and I love these silly-looking critters.

[qualified-trash-panda]

hello good people of Tumblr I am your resident qualified trash goblin.

british (sorry) | 20s (unwillingly) | she/her (today) | ao3 (since birth)

created this blog because I wanted to start having some fun with the random words that come outta my head and share them with fellow craic enthusiasts.

comments and reblogs are always welcome! please make my day. serotonin is an old and welcome friend but she visits so rarely.

I am currently working on a story following the events of the Clone Wars that explores the choices (or lack thereof) of the clone troopers.

the story will follow my OC Sennari (CT-9444) after she survives the harrowing fall of Syrac Base (a planet of my own creation) and becomes a member of the 212th Attack Battalion.

Sennari is a first-generation clone holding unmodified DNA of unknown origin created by the Kaminoans to be the perfect soldier, undergoing frequent genetic testing, intense physical training and mental stimulation from an exceedingly young age.

when Sennari proved too independent, choosing to question and think for herself, the Kaminoans decided to switch tact’s and reconditioned her, folding her into a batch of clones specifically designed to test her psychological and emotional limits.

Sennari keeps her true self closed off from others despite her warm countenance and easy-going nature. She has a sharp tongue no matter who she is speaking with and quite often uses her humour and charisma as a defence mechanism.

Headcanons

Cody does the Ryker Sit Paint

One-shots

Better Ways To Go - Commander Fox x F!OC Roller Skates - 212th Attack Battalion x F!OC

212th Appreciation Week (coming soon)

Day 1- Clone Culture/Traditions Day 2- Adoption/Accidental Acquisition Day 3- Padawans Day 4- Lightsabers Day 5- Hurt/Comfort Day 6- Clone Life Day 7- Touch

check out the full collection on ao3

navigation banners/dividers by @saradika-graphics and @strangergraphics - consider checking them out they're so good!

[qualified-trash-panda]

Roller Skates

I wrote this as part of a filler for my Clone Wars WIP and I'm posting it for you Tumblr heathens because @shabbyplants @imperialsprig comment and @vaderxvibes tags on my previous post (A Cry For Help) made my day.

description: long hyperdrive journeys can often get boring so it's a good job the clones of the 212th Attack Battalion know how to occupy themselves. it's not their fault mischief often ensues.

length: 2.7k

warnings: none it's just happy time fluff and shenanigans because I have too much time on my hands (unless you count misuse of mouse droids as some kind of mistreatment)

“Whoever came up with this idea…” Crys began to grumble, readjusting his grip on the open crate between them.

“It was me.” Wooley perked up, oblivious to his vod's grumbling.

Sennari shot Crys a warning look before he thought of finishing that sentence.

“It’s a brilliant idea.” Crys continued, dripping with sarcasm.  “I love spending my time off chasing kriffing mouse droids.”

Wooley waved a hand, shushing them as he peaked around a corner.  “It’s coming!”

“Not another word.” Sennari hissed at the acidic blond.  “It’s for his name day.”

Crys recoiled, “He doesn’t have a name day.”

Sennari heard the zip of tiny wheels and shushed him again, sliding her feet forward silently when Wooley curled his fingers.

“Now!” The shiny yelled and they upturned the crate, slamming it onto the durasteel with a loud clang and the droid crashed into the side.  Wooley pumped his fist.  “Gotcha!”

They slid open the opposite end and Crys bent over, temporarily disabling the droid and lifting it free of its makeshift cage.  “Come on.” He ushered, hefting it under his arm.  “Before someone figures out what we’re doing.”

Sennari hoisted the crate, the three of them returning to the hangar where Waxer and Boil sat watching the other mouse droid.  They’d tied a thick coil around it, another laid out and ready beside Boil’s foot, and Sennari discarded the empty crate. 

“Shouldn’t he be wearing some kind of protective gear?” Waxer fussed as Crys set down the second droid.  “What if he falls?”

“That’s between him and gravity.” Sennari answered as Wooley shoved on his helmet, hiding the look of childlike glee brightening his features.

They fixed the cable onto the second droid whilst Boil set the first by Wooley’s feet.  He grasped Sennari’s shoulder and she held his arm as Boil strapped the droid to the sole of his boot, hoisting him up and keeping him balanced as Crys did the same with the second.

Wooley wobbled once as Waxer secured both straps around his feet, ecstatic giggles falling out his helmet, and Sennari tightened her grip.  “Remember to keep your eyes up.” Sennari reminded him as he began to look down at what they were doing. 

“I’ll be careful.” Wooley assured her, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long, I’m not gonna mess it up.”

“Alright.” Crys slapped the back of Wooley’s leg and he wobbled again.  “You’re all set.”

Wooley squeaked, tilting his head to Sennari.  “Can you gimme a boost?”

Sennari grinned, carefully stepping behind him, gripping his waist until he nodded assuredly.  “On three.” She told him, slowly counting down, and on the final beat Sennari shoved him as hard as she could.

A joyful shriek slipped out as Wooley went careening across the hangar bay and it gradually dropped into excitable laughter as he skidded across the durasteel, picking up speed with each kick of his feet and Sennari watched with growing enthusiasm.

“I didn’t think that would work.” She admitted as Waxer chuckled.

Wooley cheered as he narrowly avoided a collision with two clones loading supplies onto a shuttle, throwing up his arms gleefully. 

“We catch two more droids and we’d have a competition on our hands.” Boil suggested conspiratorially and shared one look with his twin before the two scattered, grabbing the crate where Sennari discarded it and disappearing off on a hunt.

“Hey, Sennari!” Wooley waved a hand as he skated past and she returned a lazy salute.

The twins returned soon enough hefting two more droids.  Wooley had done three laps of the entire hangar by the time they came back, looping between each of the gunships, getting the hang of dodging around the few clones on duty.  Most of them stopped to watch him whizzing about by now, laughing along with him. 

“Alright.” Sennari held a makeshift flag made from two cleaning rags in both hands, standing off to the side as Wooley and Boil settled into ready positions, held steady by Waxer and Crys.  “On three.”

She counted them down and waved the flag, dodging out the way as they raced off down the hangar and followed the course they’d set up around the hangar.  A small crowd cheered them on, summoned by their brothers to watch the commotion, and they had a gaggle of onlookers seated atop crates strategically placed around the hangar. 

Wooley won the first race, whooping and hollering as he slid to a stop over the finish line, and proceeded to win every race afterwards.  The kid was a natural.  Only the trill of the shift change could stop him, forcing him to take off the skates and traipse up to the communication quarter.  Wooley, Waxer and Boil were replaced with Gearshift, Trapper and Longshot and they got another cluster of clones strapped to the droids.  Sennari did much better without Wooley but as soon as Longshot strapped the skates on things grew tense. 

“Fancy making things interesting?” He challenged. 

Tying their hands gave them considerably less control but Sennari would never turn down an honest challenge, not when she saw credits exchanging hands, and if one of them ended up in the medbay at least it wouldn’t be because of her.  Not this time. 

“Ready?” Gearshift asked, the slightest doubt in his raised eyebrow.

Sennari inched her feet wider, Cale’s hands at her waist ready to push, the ragged flag waiting to be waved and Gearshift barely counted down once before an abrupt voice cut through the clamour, Cody’s single raised eyebrow enough to silence every clone present.

If Sennari had a free hand, she would’ve waved.  “It’s Wooley’s name day, sir.” She explained casually, receiving a few slacked jaws from the shinies who were trying to melt into the floor and away from Cody’s disapproval.  They’d get used to it, the rest of the clones holding back a roll of their eyes.

“I just saw Wooley in comms.” Cody replied flatly, “He told me to expect the 501st within the hour for a briefing.”

Longshot quietly hissed out a cheer beside her.  “Jesse’s going to love this.”

“I’d love to give you a hand with the preparations, but…” Sennari jiggled her shoulders, her bound wrists.  “I’m a little tied up right now.”

Cody looked like he wanted to drag a hand down his features at the remark and Cale struggled to smother his laughter.  “Be done by the time they get here or there will be consequences.” Cody warned, glancing between Sennari and Longshot and the two returned identical innocent looks that would fool anyone else.  Good thing Cody knew better.

“What does he mean, consequences?” Sennari heard a brother ask at the same time another smiled and said, “He can’t catch all of us.”

Oh, yes, he can.  Sennari turned back to the course ahead and bent into a ready position, a renewed smile touching her lips and mischief clouding her hazel eyes. 

“We’re not gonna be finished by the time Captain Rex arrives, are we?” Trapper asked wearily, so used to their antics he already knew his answer.  Yet he still felt the need to ask.

“Better find yourself a pair of skates, bud.” Cale clapped him on the shoulder consolingly.  “It’s the only way you’re gonna outrun the Commander.”

“Alright, enough chatter!” Gearshift called out with a raised hand, calming the gathered clones, and he began his countdown anew.  “Go!”

Cale launched Sennari into the hangar and she immediately increased her momentum, careening across the durasteel faster than anyone started off before, building up her speed even as she came to the first corner and heard a warning shout.  With her hands tied, she couldn’t latch onto the gunship as she did before, and a brief flash of panic trilled in her heart, forcing her to dig her heels in and almost topple over to round the corner. 

Sparks danced as she pressed hard into the turn, scratching grooves in the durasteel but she made it round easily.  The early gain gave her enough leeway to take the second corner easier, leaning back to take it slower, letting Gearshift come up closer before ploughing ahead once again.  They wove between the crates set up scattered about the longest stretch, her knees bending one way, then the next, gritting her teeth tightly each time her balance wobbled, hands tugging against their bonds.

“Gonna have to do better than that.” Longshot teased as they found the third corner and skated a pace behind her. 

Sennari spent so much concentration on the crates she’d dropped her speed advantage entirely.  “Finally putting that pilot training to good use.” She shot back, smiling despite the bead of sweat curling down the side of her face.

Longshot looked just as exerted, his cheeks puffed, but he smothered a grin and pressed on.  If Sennari didn’t do something drastic he’d overtake her along the final stretch, she couldn’t build up the same amount of speed without Cale’s boost.  Longshot just had stronger leg muscles than her. 

They both heard the squeak of gears as the main hangar doors rattled open, revealing the dark blanket of space out beyond, and three gunships fluttered inside. 

“Better get a move on.” Longshot hurried, the distraction costing her and he overtook as they rounded the corner. 

Sithspit.  Sennari hunched her shoulders, bending forwards, scanning the last stretch and the final corner.  She could shave off a few seconds if she took a shortcut, a little quick thinking and she jerked herself sideways, kicking off one of the crates for a little extra boost.  Longshot would have to adjust to avoid getting hit by one of those gunships, the first swinging into the clear hangar, and Sennari grit her teeth.  As Longshot skidded to a halt to avoid the landing gunship, swerving, Sennari crouched low, aimed directly for the blast doors as they swung open. 

The men inside had only a split second to react before Sennari shot through, springing up to avoid tripping the skates on the edge of the ship, her feet leaving the ground entirely, blazing past shocked expressions and exclamations as clones hit the deck, and crashing back to the floor on the other side. 

Sennari swept across the finish line and another scattering of sparks danced up as she skidded to an abrupt halt moments away from colliding with a pile of crates, twisting around to watch Longshot slowly glide along behind her.

The clink of credits changing hands joined the cheering as clones slapped Sennari on the back, laughter erupting from the crowd and Cale cut the ties binding her hands. 

“You’re one crazy son of a Hutt.” He chuckled, steadying her with an arm.

“Let’s hope Commander Wolffe feels the same.” Sennari commented as she noticed the blue-grey armor storming over, his kamas swaying erratically around his waist. 

“Wolffe, old buddy.” Cody smoothly stepped in front of her, helmet propped casually against his waist and a lazy smile brightened his scarred features.  “Come to join the fun?”

“I thought we were expecting Captain Rex?” Trapper hissed as Sennari settled atop a crate, working to free her feet from the mouse droid.

“Surprise.” Longshot huffed as he dropped next to her, letting Trapper fuss over the straps.  “Bet you’re regretting that little shortcut now.”

“Nah.” Sennari smirked, eyeing the set of Cody’s shoulders.  “Couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.”

Turns out Rex had arrived, stepping off one of the gunships, completely oblivious to the chaos Sennari briefly caused, and frowned as he caught the Commander’s snapping at one another. 

“No harm, no foul.” Cody was saying blithely, “The boys were just having a little fun.”

“No harm?” Wolffe bit, “Someone could’ve gotten seriously hurt with that little stunt.”

“You’re the one who landed in the middle of a racecourse.”

Sennari bit back a snort, some of her brothers not so quick and received one of Wolffe’s looks and she just knew he was snarling beneath that helmet. 

“Perhaps if your men hadn’t been going so fast it wouldn’t have been necessary.” Wolffe stressed with a pointed look at Sennari.

“The point of a race is to be faster than your opponent.” Cody explained patronizingly, further tightening the set of Wolffe’s irritated shoulders.  “Would you suggest an alternative?”

“That sounds like fighting talk, Commander.” Rex observed with a whistle as he approached, removing his own helmet and Sennari caught the glimmer in his brown eyes.

“Oh.” Wolffe finally removed his helmet, a snarling smile scrunching his features, making his synthetic eye look even more alien.  “Don’t tempt me.”

Please.  Sennari glanced between the Commanders, hope building in her chest, and she realized she wanted nothing more than to see these two strap mouse droids to their feet and break their own protocols.

“I can’t remember the last time we competed against one another.” Cody frowned and Sennari stood, her excitement mounting.  “Let’s fix that.”

She slapped Trapper’s shoulder and the two scooped up the mouse droids, scurrying to Cody’s side as he handed Cale his helmet, grasping his shoulder as the two began to fix on the skates.  Sennari heard hurried words behind her as she secured the droids, glancing back to find a wide-eyed Wooley staring at the Commander, unable to curb his joy.

“Have you ever done this before, Commander?” Cale whispered worriedly, glancing over at Wolffe who let Trapper and Sinker strap on his own set.

Cody gave him a look and he quieted but Sennari recognized experience in those eyes.  Marshal Commander Cody liked to pretend he played by the rules, for a long time Sennari had never met anyone with a stick shoved so far up their arse, but the more she got to know him the more she realized he was just as chaotic as the rest of his buck wild battalion.  Who else would rather roundhouse kick a droid than blast it full of bolts?

“Please, Cale.” Sennari smiled, swatting him away from the Commander as they helped him to the starting line.  “I’ve got this.”

“Sennari.” Cody eyed her sideways, “Behave.”

“Don’t you trust me?” She winked and set herself behind him, hands lose at his back until Sinker set Wolffe up beside them.

Rex set his helmet at his feet, flag in his hands, and kept well away from the starting line.  “You both ready?” he called and Sennari felt Cody tense beneath her.

She gripped him tight, flashing Sinker a determined look and the 104th trooper smirked at her in turn. 

“Alright.” Rex raised his arm and Sennari dug her heels in, marshaling her focus as Rex counted down, her shoulder almost pressed to Cody’s back, and as soon as the flag descended, she pushed with all her might.

Cody took off faster than lightning, faster than Sennari with her hands tied, and she released a low whistle.  Of course, Cody had done this before, Cale had been an idiot to doubt him, and she wandered over to Rex.

“Ten credits says Cody wins.” She offered, the two twisting to watch their small outlines round the corner, a flash of orange keeping well ahead of the grey.

“No bet.” Rex smirked, eyeing her sideways.  “Am I right in assuming this was all you?” He gestured to the course set before them.

“For once, no.” Sennari answered truthfully, glancing over her shoulder at the shiny, his features exploding with joy.  “It’s Wooley’s name day.”

“Right.” Rex nodded slowly, unconvinced.  “And he came up with the idea all on his own.”

Sennari clasped her arms loosely over her chest, shrugging one shoulder.  “I may have helped.”

Rex chuckled, “There it is.”

She returned to her squad as the Commanders started down the final stretch.  Cheers erupted from the 212th as Cody crossed the finish line first, grasping a hold of Gearshift’s offered arm to slow himself down and watch Wolffe come trailing after, slapping down his flaring kamas. 

“So?” She prompted, throwing an arm over Wooley’s shoulders.

“Best name day ever.” He beamed and Sennari smiled sideways at him.

The cheers died as the doors to the hangar opened and admitted a frowning General Kenobi, his eyebrows rising as he regarded the random clutter of clones, and General Skywalker seemed just as confused.

“We’ve been waiting on the bridge, Commander, what on earth is going on down here?” General Kenobi queried, watching him scurry to take off the droids.

Sennari’s features melted into mischief, giving Wooley a friendly shake as an idea lit a spark in the hazel.  It could always get better…

dividers by @panda-writing

[qualified-trash-panda]

A Cry For Help (affectionate, but threatening)

I started my Clone Wars fic with a PLAN and a STRATEGY and the plot was PLOTTING for all of two seconds but now my characters are off blowing shit up every time they get into trouble (which has nothing to do with my lack of creativity) and I'm sat here glancing at the camera like I'm in The Office.

There's angst, it's just angst and Angst and more angsT with a little sprinkle, a tiny blink and you'll miss it bit of Cody fluff because I need Cody to be my Dad more than I need coca cola to stop spitting out different flavours.

ANd the love interest! Oh, woe be me, don't get me started on the love interest!! The slow burn had thought, it had feeling and emotion and most importantly IT BURNED SLOWLY but now my OC is off falling in love with someone else!

And the best part I hear you asking because I spicily threatened you on a warm midsummers eve ???

I'VE NO IDEA WHO THE MADWOMAN HAS THE HORNY FOR

Fives? Negative.

Fox? Nope.

Hunter? Nah.

Hotel? Trivago.

I tried to stick to the plan said Anakin with explosions going off in the background but then suddenly Jesus took the wheel and drove me bible first into the closest bloody tree thinking where paper is birthed would help.

(seriously, who gave Jesus a driving license, man's a fucking mad lad)

So, if you're reading this and come to the conclusion I haven't yet lost my mind, please send help in whatever form you deem appropriate.

Or, failing that, a half decent croissant will do.

[qualified-trash-panda]

I'm not crying, you are.

Idk where this came from tbh just felt like sharing my Foxiyo angst with the world 🫡

(I may have sketched this whole thing out before realizing that *that part* with Vader and Fox takes place on a ship, not on the ground… forgive me)

((Also please ignore any weird crops. I blame Tumblr’s image compression habits))

[qualified-trash-panda]

I'm enthralled. Had me ugly laughing, like proper kriffing snorting it's a diagnosable issue how funny these are

Sissy‘s Masterlist

CT-Cassa: Flirting forbidden

📆 Timeline: Three Months In

You have been living in the clone-only apartment building for three months. You’re still new-ish, and most of the boys are somewhere between cautious curiosity and awkward hallway nods. Rex and Cody have exchanged a few polite words. Kix has diagnosed you once (allergies). Tup has waved. Wolffe has glared (affectionate).

Then came the catalyst.

The trigger: Fives. Of course, Fives. Who else… (Jesse and Boost were close second)

He flirted.

Again.

This time it was your disheveled "just-got-out-of-bed" look while taking out the trash.

And Fives?

Leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Good morning, Pretty one. You even take out the trash elegantly.“

You: "I'm wearing a Chewbacca pajama and have toothpaste on my forehead."

Fives: "And yet – a vision."

Fox appears like he was summoned by the gods of no shenanigans ever. He witnessed it all. He made a list of all flirts with date, what was said and ranking of the seriousness of violation.

Fox: “Fives. What the kriff was that?”

Fives: “It’s called charm, Commander. You should try it sometime.”

The Collapse

Two hours later:

Fox in the common room.

He is holding a clipboard.

He has the list.

Fox: "We need to talk. That's going too far. We need clear rules. No flirting with the neighbor. Period.“

📜 The Anti-Flirt Policy (AFP)

Fox’s Official Rule #12.4.7b – The Civilian Interaction Code:

“No clone personnel is permitted to flirt with, seduce, charm, beguile, court, woo, or otherwise attempt to romantically engage with the civilian residing on Floor 4. This is not a request. This is a regulation.”

Signed: Fox, Commander of the Coruscant Guard

Co-signed: Cody (reluctantly), Rex (sipping coffee), and Wolffe (enthusiastically)

The reactions:

Fives: "This is an attack on freedom of speech! And on my fundamental rights! And to the art of charm!" → He's making protest signs. One says: "Free Love for Zee!" → Echo tears it off.

Kix: "Finally. I don't feel like dealing with love sicknesses that Fives imagines anymore.“

Jesse: "Am I an exception? I'm flirting intellectually.“ (He is not)

Cody: "We need... a compromise." → He suggests that only small talk with a maximum of one compliment per week is allowed. Fox notes it down. Strict.

Hardcase: "I never flirted anyway. I bring her snacks. That's diplomacy.“

Boost: “Wait, we’re not allowed to flirt? Is eye contact still allowed or is that too seductive now?”

Zee finds out about it.

You enter the hallway.

They all freeze.

Fox holds his clipboard like a shield.

You: "…What's going on here?"

Fives (dramatically): "Dictatorship. Rebellion. Passion suppressed. Help us."

Fox (sternly): "Internal structural measure to uphold neighborhood ethics."

You: "…you have an anti-flirt policy? Because of me?“

Fives: “YOU broke the system. Just by being cute.”

You: laugh nervously and walk into wall.

Tup: “She blushed. That counts as a win for Fives.”

Fox: “No, it kriffing doesn’t.”

You're half moved. Half panicked.

Completely confused.

Your judgment:

Compliments are always welcome. (Even if you blush like an overripe tomato… EVERY SINGLE TIME)

Fives: "Does 'Galactic Goddess in Sweatpants' count as a synonym for starlight?"

Fox: "Last warning."

📝 Bonus: Fives’ Petition to Repeal the AFP

• Title: “Operation: Love Is Not A Crime”

• Signatures gathered: 21

• Status: Rejected.

• Official stamp: “Fox Said No.”

Fives still flirts. Stealthily. Passive-aggressively. His pickup lines are now encoded in compliments about laundry detergent and cleaning technique.

Fox is not fooled.