#Bode Akuna Fic

[fangirl-inthe-outer-rim]

Jogan Fruit

Bode Akuna x Reader

A/N: This is a small little something I thought about while planning a fic. I'll probably include it. I don't know yet.

All I wanted was some jogan fruit. Greez, for some reason, had imprisoned the sweet treat in a class jar confinement and I struggled to open the damned thing.

"I am a strong, independent jedi. I can open a cursed jar of fruit." I whispered to myself.

I glared at the jar trying to figure out how to access the object of my desires. It was a puzzle I couldn't solve. I was just about to use the force in a way Master Plo would deem inappropriate when Bode came out of nowhere.

The man had a smirk plastered on his face. He leaned on the counter as he watched me struggle. I glared at him. I could get this. I know I could get this. It's just a stupid jar.

Ultimately deciding to use the force, I reached out only for the jar to be ripped from my grasp. I looked up at Bode who simply held my gaze. Without looking away, a smirk still plastered on his face, he opened the jar and placed it back in my hand.

"There." he said.

There was something in his eyes. I couldn't quite grasp what they were trying to say. It made butterflies flutter in my stomach. This was new seeing how, yes, we flirted but it didn't mean anything. It was two friends sharing banter. Nothing more. This, however, was not that. it was something more.

Bode winked at me before turning around to go sit on the couch behind me. I watched him but he proceeded to work on his blaster with no other sort of acknowledgment of my presence. The only indication of our interaction was the smirk that never left his face.

I looked at the other two members on the ship to see if they caught any of that. Cal's eyes flicked from me to Bode. he had a slight frown and his brows were drawn. Greez stood there a little shocked. Coughing, the man shook his head and waved it off as he strode back to the cockpit. Cal still stood there for a moment before looking back at me. There was almost a question in them. I simply shrugged.

A little shocked, I went back to my jar. I pulled out a few juicy quarter slices and put them in a bowl. Whatever the hell I just witnessed, I hope it figures itself out. Otherwise, I have no idea how I'll handle it.

Tags (add yourself here!): None yet...

[coco-munchie]

Cal putting on one of Bode's shirts + how it's supposed to actually fit lol This was inspired by a cute scene from this amazing fic, seriously please go read it it's so so good!!

[corvidscreams]

Idea spawned by @sihirbazi (here) and fleshed out by @paper-crane-castles.

An au in which Cal crash landed on Dathomir instead and grew up learning the mysterious (and spooky) ways of the nightsisters.

[grackle-draws]

Shadow and gold

My piece for the Jedi Survivor anniversary event 🧡🖤

Corresponding fic is

[stardustandash]

Still in denial about Cal not liking tea so this is how I hc the Mantis crew takes their caf:

Cal: cannot stand the taste of caf and drowns it in sugar. This has the unfortunate side effect of him getting sugar and caffeine high for approximately 2 hours before he crashes hard. Greez no longer lets him have caf and keeps it hidden.

Cere: prefers a good tea but will have caf if it’s what’s available. A drop of cream or a pinch of sugar to cut the bitterness but no more than that.

Merrin: she drinks her caf black, and if left alone to brew it will make it extra strong. No one else on the ship can drink it if she makes it. They’re not sure if she does this on purpose to have the caf all to herself.

Greez: while sure, you can just brew caf and drink it, there can be more to it. Greez likes to make his with a little pizazz if he can. Homemade syrups, frothed and warmed milk on top. Hell, he’ll even add some to his cooking to get a better depth of flavour.

Bonus Bode: he will drink caf whatever way it’s handed to him and down it quickly. The only requirement he has is that it’s near scalding hot.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

So I have two questions:

One:

Should I write smut for Cal?

The plot is just him and the reader going at it on his work bench.

Or

The reader see’s Cal wearing an imperial uniform and the two go at it on an imperial ship.

Two:

Should I write a smut fic with Bode?

The plot would be the reader seducing him, the two going at it in a cantina / saloon.

Let him be happy cause he deserves it.

Now I have not forgotten about my Leon fics, I just haven’t gotten the chance to write out those long fics.

Also I need to replay the game again not to mention I’m finally getting back into Star Wars.

I just love this game and it needs more love.

[paper-crane-castles]

Cover art for @spyscrapper and @dream-of-tanalorr 's fic :D

It's amazing, go read it.

I think my arm might be about to fall off.

[weadapt]

If I POSSIBLY (no promises) wrote a story of Cal having severe echos at a very, very young age and his parent(s) struggling to find a way to help him, what would you ultimately want out of the story?

[sunderedazem]

9 + 13

Combo of the concept arts for the Jedi: Survivor fic "do you taste my pain in this bloodstained place" written by me, @dream-of-tanalorr, and @spyscrapper !

Now that they've both mostly appeared I figured I should put them in the same frame, hehe!

Alt version below:

With the Gold Eyes!

[fanfoolishness]

safe (Jedi: Survivor spoilers)

Spoilers for Jedi: Survivor. The battle for Tanalorr goes differently, and Kata is safe at last. Angst, angst, angst. Vignette - ~500 words.

-

“Kata, honey, you can come out.  It’s safe now.”

Her papa’s voice is hoarse, calling down the hall.  He sounds hurt and out of breath, but he doesn’t sound scared.  Not anymore.  Not like before, when he realized Cal and Merrin had found them here on Tanalorr.

Kata’s head pounds and she closes her eyes, trying not to cry.  She wished she hadn’t seen him that way.  So scared.  So angry.  Papa had done something, flung his hand out toward her and she’d gone flying.  She’d hit her head.  

She winces.  It isn’t just her head; her knees are sore and scraped through her pants; her palms are sticky with dots of blood.  And she doesn’t know where Mookie is.  He must have fallen when she did.

She stays wedged in the small dark corner she’d found, hidden deep within the cave.  In all the fighting, no one heard her running back through the hallway, searching for a place to hide.  She could hear them, though: blaster bolts firing, lightsabers shrieking, Cal begging Papa to stop.  Merrin, making a terrible sound.  Little beeps from Cal’s droid friend, fainter and fainter.

Then there weren’t any sounds but Papa, calling for her to come out.

Kata backs further into the dark corner, breathing hard.  She strains her ears.  Maybe she’s wrong.  A little flare of hope uncurls within her.  Maybe she’ll hear three sets of footsteps, instead of one.  Maybe the fighting’s stopped and everybody wants to talk.  Maybe Papa will come back with the others to take her away from this beautiful, awful place.

She doesn’t understand.  Papa had wanted to come here so badly.  He’d said it would be perfect.  He’d said it would be safe.  But he never said it would be so lonely.

At least on Nova Garon, Rick used to sneak her sweets.

Kata hears her papa coming closer, and then she realizes there is one set of footsteps, instead of three.  His boots make hollow echoes that resound around the cave, and every heavy footfall jolts her like a blow.  She’d known what happened all along.

“Kata, come out now.  It’s me,” Papa pleads.  She can see him through a crack in the rock, his face bloody, a burn mark streaking his shoulder.  He holds Mookie, dangling from one of his strong hands.  The other hand is clenched around his blaster, still ready for a fight.  Against who?

“Kata!” he barks.  “Come out where I can see you!”  

She’s more scared now than when they all were fighting.

Slowly, she edges out of her hiding place, shaking all over.  Papa sees her and rushes over, swooping her into a rough and clumsy hug. 

“It’s all over, Kata, we’re safe.  No one can find us again,” he murmurs, stroking her hair.  She thinks he might be crying.  “No one can ever hurt you again.”

She’s stiff in his arms, still trembling, and she thinks, But you already did.

[nevermindigotthis]

Drawing fanfics again! Link.

[queenofalpaca]

Well, I suppose I might as well put this on tumblr too after discord went crazy for it. Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55314991

(Blood) Thirst (4299 words) by Crimson_Crystal

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order Series (Video Games)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Bode Akuna/Cal Kestis

Characters: Bode Akuna, Cal Kestis

Additional Tags: Anal Sex, Topping from the Bottom, Bottom Cal Kestis, Top Bode Akuna, Vampire Bode Akuna, Blood Drinking, Mildly Dubious Consent, Bode’s suffering from blood thirst, and using the Force on Cal, but they’d have sex in their right minds too so it’s fine?, Bode being an idiot, Cal being a dumbass, Misunderstandings, Bode thinks he raped Cal for a second, Cal is not having it, Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Everything you need really

Summary: An unplanned confrontation with the Empire forces the Mantis to stay in hyperspace longer than expected, and Bode starts feeling the effects. If only there was someone whose blood he could drink to tide him over…

[azems-familiar]

i am like two thirds of the way through this spyscrapper oneshot. and it is TWELVE THOUSAND WORDS LONG. i was originally calling it to be like... 10k max. hahahaha. i should never be allowed to estimate word counts etc etc. anyway, should probably cap at around 15k, and have a snippet:

[under a readmore because Long]

Merrin sighs, disapproval etching itself into every word she speaks, frustration bleeding into the Force around her, green-gilt and vivid enough to taste. “Bode, part of the reason I left is because I could no longer watch him destroy himself for a chance to exact revenge on the Empire. You are the first person, aside from Cere, who has been able to reach him through that haze.” That- he- “Now there is no one who can. And that is your doing.”

Bode goes quiet, looking down at Cal on his shoulder - the younger man has curled a little closer in his sleep, the furrow between his brows finally smoothed out. He looks relaxed in a way he so rarely is, and even if it’s just because of utter exhaustion, Bode has spent enough time around Cal to know how rarely he touches people casually, how apart he holds himself. He’d known he was an exception to the rule, but to have been allowed closer than nearly all the rest of the crew - Cal’s family - it doesn’t seem possible. But Merrin’s aura is shot through with just how deadly serious she is, and he remembers-

(They’re on the Mantis on their way back from Jedha with Merrin newly along for the ride, and Cal is noticeably drooping, sand on his shirt he hasn’t bothered to brush out and his hair half out of its bun and shadows under his eyes. Bode can’t remember seeing him sleep the several days they spent on Jedha, exploring the desert ruins and attempting to save Brother Armias, and he has to admit he’s concerned - the prep for the Coruscant mission had involved rotating sleep schedules as they made their plans, and every time Bode had been up he’d noticed Cal was still awake, sipping caf and studying comm traffic. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but the more time they’ve spent together on Koboh the more he’s realized Cal catches catnaps rather than truly sleeping, often being out and about in the dead of night. It’s foolish of him, but one of the things Bode has picked up about Cal Kestis is that no matter how put-together he’d seemed when Bode slipped his way onto his team, he’s a young man running on revenge with a reckless streak a parsec wide.

When they’d boarded the Mantis to head for Jedha the last time, Cal had, somewhat awkwardly, told Bode they didn’t have enough bunks for him to have his own - the available one apparently belonging to Merrin, who Cal had described with a great deal of fondness as being willing to raise the dead to protect her space - and had offered Bode his, then spent the next two nights not sleeping until Bode had said he was fine with sharing. After several weeks in hyperspace travel all told, they’ve gotten used to the arrangement - Bode has to admit he’s sleeping better than he has in a while, and it seems like Cal is more likely to actually lay down when there’s someone else… and that gives him an idea. Bode isn’t tired now, on account of having actually gone to sleep the night before, but Cal is sitting at the table staring at his empty plate and has been for several minutes, unmoving. Bode exchanges a glance with Merrin, who has a resigned expression on her face, and then stands up, abruptly, leaning forward to swipe Cal’s plate from in front of him.

Hey, scrapper, he says, and Cal startles a little and looks up, eyes finally focusing again. Bode dumps the plates in the sink and turns back to him. I think I took some blasterfire while we were out in the desert - could you give me a hand? I want to get some rest.

Oh - yeah, of course, Bode, Cal says, pushing himself to his feet and leaving a hand on the table’s edge to keep his balance. He’s wavering, a little, but he seems determined to ignore that, all bleeding concern in the Force. You were shot? Where? Why didn’t you say anything?

Back of the shoulder, Bode says, and it’s even true. He hadn’t said anything because it was a minor injury and he knew it could wait until they left again - but he has to bite his tongue not to point out the astounding hypocrisy in Cal’s question. That won’t help matters right now. Like it’s an afterthought, he adds, Hey, you should let me check you out once you’re done with me, return the favor. Just in case there’s something you missed.

Cal shifts his weight, clearly unsure. I’m fine, really, he says, and Bode softens his face, steps closer to him and catches Cal’s arm in a gentle grip, guiding him back towards his bunk.

Please? he murmurs. You took a hell of a lot of heat defending the safehouse. I’m worried about you, Cal. The words are bitter on his tongue for how true they are.

And Cal melts into him, all warm and doe-eyed despite the grime and the exhaustion. Hey, no, don’t do that, there’s no reason to. Merrin and I handled it just fine, we’ve been doing this for years.

I know, he says, and lies through his teeth. Of course there’s a reason to worry about Cal, the kriffing idiot can’t seem to go more than three days without coming back with some injury, and Force above and below, Bode hasn’t seen him as just another mark for too long. Humor me, would you? I want to get some sleep, and I’ll feel better about it if I know you’re around.

This is the breaking point, when Cal might realize what he’s doing and back out of it - and for a moment Cal regards him quietly, studying his face, though what he’s looking for Bode can’t say; a piece of ginger hair falls into Cal’s eyes and Bode has to swallow down the inexplicable urge to brush it back behind his ears. And then: Alright, Cal says with a nod, and starts walking towards the bunks again, of his own volition this time. Whatever helps, Bode.

Thanks, scrapper, he murmurs, and casts a glance back over his shoulder at Merrin. The nightsister is still sitting at the table, her dark gaze fixated on them, on him, and her expression is inscrutable for all that her aura writhes around her like an unsecured transmission. He doesn’t quite know the meaning behind the tumultuous emotions he can pick up on the edges of, but she gives him a single, deliberate nod, and then she turns away.

By the time they get back to Koboh, he’s forgotten about the strange interaction entirely.)

There’s a hell of a lot more meaning to that look now, all of this on the table, than there had been at the time. He’d been the newest member of their crew by years, and yet he’d fairly easily accomplished something apparently even she couldn’t - getting Cal to actually take a break. And that wasn’t the only time he’d done it, of course, just the first time in front of her; after they’d gotten out of the Lucrehulk, every time they’d gone through something harrowing, every three days on the regular when Cal had stopped dumping milk and sugar into his caf and was just chugging it straight, Bode had convinced him to at least sit down and rest in a booth at the saloon. Nine times out of ten that led to Cal falling asleep on his shoulder and being carried down to his basement room, and that, at least, had been enough to keep him functional, although unhealthily so.

And now… Bode traces his eyes over the freckles smattered across Cal’s nose. He doesn’t have the right to intervene in Cal’s personal affairs like that anymore, assuming Cal would even let him - which he doubts, considering how angry Cal is. (He’d been a thing to behold, fighting his way through the garrison - even injured and exhausted his aura had been fire and magma and molten kyber, pouring out from him into his opponents as he strode through them entirely untouched. All that wildfire-rage had been focused directly at Bode, and he aches that he’s the cause of it, that whatever bridges he didn’t burn himself are ash all the same, but damn is he glad he got to see it.) And that leaves Cal still a reckless fool who refuses to take care of himself and is burning himself up at both ends, but now without someone he’ll listen to to help mitigate some of the damage.

Bode… still can’t bring himself to regret the choice he’s made, or to apologize for it. It was the lesser of two evils - and isn’t he good at finding those? ISB or Inquisitorius, willing or unwilling, alive or dead, what is his life but a tightrope between the lesser and the greater? - and he has to put Kata’s safety above all else, he’s a terrible enough father without adding negligence into the mix, but he still hates what it’s led to. And he hates the galaxy, a little, for forcing this choice on him.

He can’t quite bring himself to look away from Cal.

“... I think you understand what you must live with now, yes?” Merrin says, after some time. He doesn’t move. “Good. I can bear this no longer.” There’s the sound of rustling fabric and movement, and he can sense her slipping around the couch to the small kitchen. “Are you hungry, Kata? I think I am going to make myself a snack, and you are welcome to share.”

[stardustandash]

Falling Like a Memory - Jedi Survivor

Summary: “This was not his first time in an escape pod after the Purge, nor would it be the last, unless he was either very lucky or extremely unlucky. But this was the first time since then he’d been in one that was so similar.” A little scene expansion for the escape pod sequence after completing the Lucrehulk.

Word Count: 1792

Tags: PTSD, angst, Cal being unaware of his own mental state

If you prefer reading on ao3 this is the link. (Note that it is locked to registered users only)

Escape pods. It just had to be escape pods. While Bode was right, it was the fastest way out of the Lucrehulk, it didn’t make it any easier. Cal’s hands deftly inputted the launch sequence. It was something he’d gone over in his head again and again after the Purge when his hands were too small and shaky to get the input right. Never again would he slip up launching an escape pod in a life or death situation. However, he did not think getting off the Lucrehulk after knowing Dagan wasn’t sitting around on it any more was a life-or-death situation. It seemed more of a confident, if not victorious, then alive and not in imminent danger kind of thing.

They could climb back down. It’s not like they hadn’t cleared out most of the Bedlam Raiders on the way up and set up convenient shortcuts through the ship. Or Bode could jetpack them down. Maybe Cal could hold onto Zee, and Bode could hold onto him, and let the jetpack resist gravity just enough to bring them down without breaking any bones or servos.

Yet he was reluctant to voice those thoughts. There was something about Bode that made Cal want to prove himself. Maybe it was that he was so much more capable, so much more at ease with his place and role in the galaxy as both a father and a mercenary. Not for the first time Cal thought that Bode would have made an excellent Jedi. It would be embarrassing to admit to someone like that he didn’t want to get into an escape pod because the thought of it made him want to throw up with nerves.

At least they would take different pods, even if all three of them, four counting BD-1, would have comfortably fit into one. The doors to the pods opened with a quiet hiss and Cal turned to Bode with what he hoped was a confident grin. Zee gave him one of her awkward, jerky waves behind Bode’s back before confidently strutting in her slow way into the escape pod.

“See you at the outpost,” said Bode as he followed Zee.

“Yup,” said Cal, still staring at the entrance to his own. “I’m coming.”

He forced himself to take one step, and then another. This was not his first time in an escape pod after the Purge, nor would it be the last, unless he was either very lucky or extremely unlucky. But this was the first time since then he’d been in one that was so similar. The Lucrehulk’s pods were nearly the exact same as the ones equipped on the Venators, probably much to the luck and wit of some rich arms dealer. The familiarity sent shivers down his spine, but it would look odd to Bode if he backed out of the launch now.

Hesitantly, Cal buckled himself into one of the jump seats and took a deep breath. This was worse than launching himself into the ocean on Nur to get the holocron back. The Mantis’ escape pods were narrow and tight and different enough that Cal could keep his mind where it was supposed to be. Punching the launch button on this escape pod felt like he was being shot straight into an echo. The escape pod rattled around him. Gravity settled in his stomach with a weightless swoop and with it Cal fell into the memory he’d been trying so hard to push away.

He was thirteen again, crying on the floor of the pod as it hurtled towards the cloud covered surface of Bracca. In his grip Master Tapal’s body was cooling, his empty, half-lidded eyes still staring up at the ceiling of the pod. What could Cal do but scream. His confusion, rage, and grief clawed its way out of his chest through his throat, tearing at his vocal cords and bouncing off the metal walls. He curled into himself, bracing for the impact he knew was coming. The pod lurched, bouncing against the wet ground before sliding to a halt with a bang and a jerk. For several moments Cal sat curled in his seat. He could smell the rain, the underlying copper tang of rusting metal that permeated Bracca and everything unfortunate enough to be on it. Cal didn’t want to open his eyes. He knew what he would see. The same image that haunted his nightmares on sleepless nights; Master Tapal’s disappointed expression frozen in death, the blaster holes in his chest still smoking lightly. No, Cal would rather stay in the ignorant darkness forever than see that again.

BD-1 beeped a question. But BD-1 wasn’t on Bracca. Cal blinked open his eyes to the dim light of the swamp filtering through the muck and grime covering the viewport. At the same time he took a deep breath, feeling the cool air scrape down the rawness in his throat. He was strapped into the jump seat, not on the floor, but he was still curled around himself as much as he could be while strapped in.

He was very glad that he hadn’t ridden in the same pod as Bode and Zee. As he came back to himself Cal felt a surge of shame well up inside his chest. It had been ten years. He’d grown up, become a knight, faced down the dark terror of the Empire and lived. And yet he couldn’t handle a simple, in-atmo ride in an escape pod.

There was a little tap on his knee, and Cal lowered his arms to look into BD’s photoreceptors. How a little droid could convey so much concern without a face was astounding, but BD had always been the most expressive droid he’d ever met. As soon as there was enough room for him BD hopped up onto his lap and nudged his boxy head against his chest. Cal reached out with a shaky hand and gently patted him, careful of his antennae.

“I’m okay, buddy,” said Cal quietly, his voice rough from screaming.

BD-1 called bantha shit with a low trill. Still he snuggled against Cal until he shooed him off to undo the seat’s restraints. When Cal got to his feet, he was unsteady in a way that had nothing to do with the escape pod shifting in the thick swampy muck. By his ankles BD beeped worriedly before using the recently vacated seat as a springboard up to Cal’s shoulders. The familiar weight was comfortable, grounding. It was as if BD was providing a counterbalance to the odd, off-kilter feeling that had settled in his limbs, as if Cal’s brain and body had become two separate entities.

Cal made his way out of the pod and out into the bog. Somehow, he had ended up right back where he started. The little island in the pool of muck. At least the pod hadn’t landed right in the middle of the swamp and been swallowed before he could get out of it. Instead it rested just a few feet from the shoreline. He was about to get dirty, but at least he wouldn’t have to comm Greez to try and airlift him out with the Mantis. He hoped that Bode and Zee had landed somewhere safe, hopefully outside of the reach of the bog or any of Koboh’s more ravenous inhabitants.

The climb up from the edge of the bog to the small hut that rested safely above the muddy waterline was not long, or particularly hard, yet Cal was both covered in mud and exhausted as he pulled himself over the dark rock. He struggled to get his feet under himself, feeling BD hop around his back to try and help him balance.

“Thanks BD,” said Cal once he finally got his bearings.

There was a concerned trill in his ear.

“Just a little tired from that last fight. It’s been a while since I was really fighting for my life against another Force user.”

Five years, to be exact. The same day as his last trip in an escape pod. Cal shuddered at the memory, but kept moving. It didn’t take all that long to reach the little hut, and when he peered inside Zygg and her new friend Wini were still there. The two of them were standing rather close together and through the Force Cal could feel the rather warm emotions from the two of them. Embarrassment almost had him turning on his heel and marching back out, but Zygg spotted him over Wini’s shoulder and gave him a wave.

“You’re back,” said Zygg.

“Yeah,” said Cal.

Behind Zygg, Wini had a slightly put-out look on her face, but she recovered remarkably quickly and followed her over to Cal.

“Did you manage to find Zee?” asked Zygg.

“We did. Bode’s taking her back to the outpost.”

Zygg smiled. “That’s good to hear.”

Her smile slowly faded as she took in Cal’s appearance. Her eyebrows drew close together in concern, but it was Wini who spoke up.

“You look terrible, and the state of your clothes… Well, you will be heading back to the Outpost to freshen up?”

Cal blinked at her, somewhat taken aback.

“Yeah, uh, eventually?” said Cal.

He would eventually go back and meet up with Bode at Rambler’s Reach. Maybe jump in the river first to get the worst of the gunk off himself.

Wini shook her head. “Are all men in the outer rim like this?”

Zygg shook her head at Wini. “What I think she’s trying to say is that whatever you did to get Zee back, it looks like it hit you like a gorocco. Want a ride back? I got a speeder that’ll keep us out of the bog and get back to town in no time.”

Cal looked down at his battle-and-bog-stained clothes and felt the exhaustion that had buried itself in his bones settling in like a weight. BD shifted on his shoulders and beeped into his ear to say that it was a good offer.

“Yeah, a ride might be nice.”

“No worries, I’ll have you back to the outpost in no time.”

“It’s true. I saw her driving here, and I have never seen a pilot so daring.”

BD-1 trilled excitement at the thought, and Cal felt like he should probably be worried. Yet as he stood in the little hut with Zygg and Wini he could feel the shakiness start to fade, replaced instead by exhaustion and an odd sort of emptiness. Maybe he was hungry. Greez could help him out with that. With that thought in mind he followed Zygg and Wini out of the hut to a battered old speeder and they set off back to Rambler’s Reach.

[paper-crane-castles]

"We are not the same."

Illustration for chapter 9 of Do You Taste My Pain by @spyscrapper and @dream-of-tanalorr

In which Bode acknowledges that Cal Ninth Brother could beat A Lot of people in a fight, including him, and also continues to break a lot of hearts including his own because he's a FUCKING IDIOT

I love this fic, in case y'all hadn't noticed

[mmuffncakes]

Forgot to share! I was a part of the Star Wars Rare Pair Exchange this year and I got @sihirbazi (who makes WONDERFUL art, please check him out) as my person to write for! So I wrote him this lovely fix-it fic of Jedi Survivor as told through the eyes of BD-1! Of which I very much enjoyed writing as that funky little droid :D