#Grab Clone source code

[eobe]

You are reborn into the Star Wars universe, in a time, place, and family of your choosing. You retain all of your knowledge of canon events, and could change their outcome if you so chose. What do you do?

an unforeseen writing escalation. If you‘ve been tagged and don’t want to read – ignore 😂🫶

Oh kriff, what did I do to deserve that.

That’s what I asked myself, CT-1618, since I got fragment by fragment of the memories of my former life on a strange planet in a galaxy that far away, that my soul travelled not only through space, but also through time.

And Maker, this is kark. If I don‘t want to be decommissioned by first chance, I had to keep my mouth shut and my head down. If I had to speak, then well-considered. The silent, broody cadet with the ongoing frown and the crossed arms, that was me.

I almost enjoyed everyone getting calm and my clone brothers‘ full attention when I finally had something to say. So time came to use that for a greater good.

Down in the barracks after curfew I hesitated over-notable to make my batch vode curious and then I started cautiously asking them what they think about „The Mission“ – the one of our nightmares.

Either I had luck or it was easier than I thought to get them started to think individually. I recognized my chance to change things with patience, if I manage to spread some tiny well placed seeds without getting caught – and to get some tiny well placed stones into rolling.

Even as a single clone trooper I could try to find evidence. I only needed skills to get my chance, so I specialized on coding and data decryption and also spread cautiously word about my interests and achievements to get support from my superiors. It worked – I got qualified for ARC training.

I also noticed the rumor about „The Mission“ being not only a strange clone thing but something possibly dangerous made the round, also some more triggers I set, like that we‘re more than just numbers.

I asked my trusted vode to tell me if they heard news about the rumors other clones maybe whispering behind hands about things I started. I always had only one back question: „Did they mention me?“ Luckily never. My brothers mocked me being that nervous. „Vod, calm down. Source unknown as always.“

I felt a little hope the first time a stranger clone in the 79s chatted with me and after some time and drinks he hesitated with a calculating glance and asked with lowered voice what I think of those rumors about „The Mission“ – that one from our nightmares. I couldn’t hold back a small chuckle but answered well-considered as usual.

I collected and encrypted every data I could find, also tracking the reports of the 501st to stay tuned. Did little hacking attacks and got better. Being a silent and specialized ARC trooper in the 41st Elite Corps allowed me to broaden my network, but my connections and attempts to get through the security walls of Serenno for the chips‘ data went dangerously wrong.

My closest vode shivered with me as we heard talking our superiors about Serenno being cyber attacked – from our position. Kark, the seppies seem to have a new specialist.

„Do we know the source?“ My batch brother Forest asked – perfectly hiding that he knows the source better than he liked in this moment.

They didn‘t find the source. But I found something.

__

„Name and number, trooper!“

Done. The day and the moment had come and I was absolutely done, but I might have now the tiniest and silliest chance to change a really big event in the timeline!

I had lurked in the 79s, looking for some blue markings on armor to grab myself some key figures, but I had to run into the Marshal Commander of Coruscant himself. Literally.

And spilled his caf all over his spotless armor.

Kriff, maybe I was only done, but I have to try my luck for the sake of the whole karking galaxy.

„ARC-1618! Name‘s Source, Sir and I‘m incredibly sorry, Sir…“ I rambled? knowing that not only my own poor life depends on.

The first time in my life I babbled like the most talkative brother of my Squad (named Text, no kidding) and it was important to do so and to make it right – I had a plan that requires proper acting.

I had absolutely no problem to show my sweating nervousness and shrinked under the seething glare of the elder clone and finally sweared, that I‘ll spend him a caf every time when I see him – Pause for effect and dramatic gasp (for this one I imagined my little brother Voice the one time the bulky clone actually got unsettled) – then I widened my eyes like in shock, like realizing what I just said and I froze my body like prey that got caught and hoped that I just had managed my masterpiece.

And Dank Farrik, it worked. I knew that I had won in the very moment that I saw a slightly mad glint lighten up in the furious eyes of Coruscant‘s head and an actually scary grin showing the canine teeth, all the older and greying Commanders seem to share.

My heart and my brain were racing on my way to order the maybe most important caf in the whole galaxy and as I sat down at the table with the waiting Commander, who tried to hide his amusement I had the feeling that I truly got a chance now.

So I started to track the schedules and reports of the Coruscant Guard and „stumbled“ over Commander Fox as often as possible, without making the tired but sly man suspicious. We fastly got into really good caf talks and so one day I dared my luck, making the older clone curious with showing in a matter of fact truly undecided and hesitating.

l leaned a bit over the table, shooting a short look left and right and asked with lowered voice „Sir… may I ask you a question? I heared rumors and maybe the Marshal Commander is able to clear that.“

Fox raised an eyebrow with an asking glance.

I took a deep breath.

„What do you think about… The Mission? You know, the one of our nightmares.“

Great, I escalated 🙈 Thank you for the inspiration, dearest Anon. I‘m not a writer, I have a writing blockade for more than half of my life, but suddenly one of my unintroduced OCs took over… 🤷🏽‍♀��

Yeah, I hope you have fun with a non-mother tongue, non beta-read, non-writer‘s spontaneous writing 😂🫶

@foxwithadarkside Look, who‘s gone AWOL 😁

@crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf Does this count for an OC showcase?

Chaos Squad, you might recognize some names 😎 @lonewolflupe @wings-and-beskargam @ghostymarni

Taglist, I apologize for my attempt to override my current art blockade with a pathetic try to draw something with words: @eclec-tech @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @ladylucksrogue @spaceyjessa @morerandombullshit @freesia-writes

[duckapus]

So I figured out some of the story for Mega Man Chaos. And why Roll finally decided to get upgraded after all this time.

The gist of it is, Wily worked out how to transport things between universes, but his method only drags things in, so he can't use it to travel. So, he decided to search the multiverse for robots that had managed to actually defeat their version of Mega Man (or at least an equivalent), and then steal and reprogram them to finally conquer the world with.

One of these robots was a girl named Staccato. She's from a universe where the Emerald Spears (the anti-robot terrorist group from the Archie Comics run) eventually decided to fight fire with fire and create their own series of nine Robot Masters (though they called them Execution Units) programmed to destroy every robot and robotics engineer on Earth and then themselves (that last bit is how they justified the blatant hypocrisy of the situation).

Staccato was ESN-009, the last and most powerful of her series, as well as their leader, and was the Spears' answer to Mega Man. She's equipped with a Variable Weapons System, as you'd expect, is made of future tech like Quint thanks to the Spears somehow getting their hands on the Time Skimmer (they even based her face's design on Roll like how Quint was designed to look like Rock as a form of psychological warfare. she's not programmed to think she's Roll from the future though), and instead of having a Buster as her primary weapon she can swap her hands out for what are essentially lightsaber battleaxes. And as you might expect, creating a robot who's mind is almost-but-not-quite equivalent to that of a human child and building their code on a foundation that they and everyone remotely like them shouldn't exist and it's their sole purpose to enforce that doesn't exactly lead to the most stable of Artificial Intelligences.

As you'd guess from the whole "specifically grabbing robots who managed to beat their Mega Man" thing, the Execution Units proved very effective, and eventually Roll was the last member of the Light family left, and one of the very few Robot Masters left on top of that. In one last Hail Mary play, she turned to Wily (because of course her Wily managed to survive. it's what he does) and asked him to turn her into a weapon powerful enough to avenge their families (to Bass's credit as the self-proclaimed Ultimate Robot Master, he lasted longer against Staccato than Rock and Blues combined). He did so, transforming her into Neo Woman, and she tore through the Emerald Spears and the first eight Execution Units like a force of nature.

When Staccato and Neo Woman finally clashed, they pretty much ended up ripping each other apart since they were both hellbent on killing each other with no real desire to survive themselves. Base Universe Wily's dimension snatcher grabbed what was left of Staccato, and as an unforeseen side-effect of the two robots' proximity some of Neo Woman's memories were imprinted on Base Universe Roll. Not anything she can consciously recall, just some weird moments of deja vu, some occasional trauma responses she has no idea of the source of, a terrible sinking feeling that prompts her to insist on getting upgraded so she can watch Rock's back, and somehow knowing who Staccato is despite never having met her.

For Staccato's part, being reprogrammed to be loyal to Wily on top of her horrible base programming is Really Not Fun. Fortunately after she's defeated Quint shows up, snatches her away from both sides, then repairs her and removes both Wily's loyalty programming and the Spears' everything, so now instead of being a genocidal/suicidal axe-murderer she's just Incredibly Traumatized, absolutely drowning in guilt, and lacking any true purpose!

...Look it's a start. And arguably already a massive improvement.

TLDR: Wily's stealing robots from other universes this time, one of them was a super-powered clone of Roll named Staccato made by militant robophobic conspiracy nuts, Roll's haunted by the alternate version of herself from that universe and that's why she got upgraded, after the game Staccato got rescued by Quint and is now free from both Wily and her creators and the healing can begin.

[dogshostel-blog]

There is no alternative to v3cube Grab Clone App as they provide white-label, on-demand software development, personalized solutions for people, licensed source code, etc.

[marketingprofitmedia]

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Check Out My Previous Reviews: OneAi 2.0 Review, UltraSuite Review, AIxmastore Review, AI Universee Review, and FreelancerPro AI Review.

Thank for reading my A.I Funnels Review till the end. Hope it will help you to make purchase decision perfectly.

[ttccprojectoverdrive]

Alpha

This overdrive was the first one to be recorded, and the second kill mode to be recorded. While not as built for speed as some of the others (Speed Demon, Headsplitter), this overdrive is surprisingly fast just like headsplitter. It uses its wings half of the time as blades or blunt weapons, but when it takes flight it produces as much sound as a plane taking off. This is why it is VERY important to wear ear protection or carry it on you if you encounter this overdrive, much like you must when fighting Headsplitter. Its antlers, much like its wings, act as blunt objects and blades. It prefers to run on all fours, though it is capable of walking on its hind legs as well. Not for very long, and we suspect its because of the sheer weight of its wings and retractable chest saw. Its tail, which was already a spiky threat, has grown in both size and quickness. We’re not entirely sure why the clothes shift along with Chainsaw Consultant, but their ability to spike up if grabbed tightly may be the reason. The eyes of this overdrive’s kill mode send shivers down the spine of every toon who fought Chainsaw Consultant’s override when it was still in its early stage. We’ve been told through inside sources that the coding for override was used to create the sentient override AIs, and their kill modes are akin to their own overrides that are meant to activate in the presence of adult toons. We suspect children toons were excluded from the killing programming to avoid a potential mass hysteria/outrage. It's also been told to us that Chainsaw Consultant’s overdrive, which calls itself Overdrive, is an upgraded version of the override program given sentience. The other overdrives AIs are copies of this upgraded override’s programming, but instead of being exact clones each overdrive AI has its own personality.

Speed Demon

A truly fearsome beast when under the influence of kill initiative, our battles with it have led us to discover this powered up form of it. Its body produces electricity and becomes more powerful when able to absorb more of it. Even when chopped off the fur will remain electrified for weeks, but it can be handled so long as it isn’t squeezed too tightly. The claws and teeth secrete more dip than before, and they’re able to slice and bite through flesh like butter. Its speed, power, and stretching capabilities make it one of the most dangerous known overdrives.

[l-lend]

A/N: yeah so this was a fun one to tackle. Inspiration for this one involved Hunter mentioning Tech's "hobby". Another fic for @clonexreaderbingo <3

It was barely dawn when he returned. Another successful job for his squad, and a well needed break for repairs and rest. His lover was still curled up in her bed as he climbed in to join her. His armor left in the living room to be cleaned after rest. As soon as his back hit the mattress, she was there, coiling around his side. The scent of her shampoo began to coax his eyes to slipped closed. After a mental struggle, he surrendered to unconsciousness.

A soft noise slipped past her lips as she rolled over. Her hands met cooled sheets before she cracked open an eye. The comforting warmth that had joined her in the early hours was gone, but his location was given away as she registered that the shower was on. Her feet soon met the floor as she eased herself up. He was always a creature of habit when he was planet side: shower, tinker with a project, fix the ship, and maybe eat and sleep in between.

As she pondered what to badger him into eating this morning, a soft noise caught her attention.

“Tech, you need to get up.”

It took a few moments to focus on the noise when it sounded again.

“Tech, your caf's getting cold.”

Her brow furrowed as she scouted the room for the source. The culprit soon discovered on the opposite side of the bed. The noise sounded again from the datapad, and her heart sank. The voice was hers.

Snatching up the device, she stopped the sound with a few button presses. As she stared down at the screen, curiosity swirled behind her eyes. When did she record her voice for him? Her fingers began pressing buttons until she viewed his files. Another press shifted the files into the order of most recent. The worry planted in her chest sprouted to full bloom as her eyes skimmed over some files:

Sleeping_With_Cyare.mp4

Shower_Cyare.mp4

The datapad was still clenched in her hand as she barged into the refresher. The towel clad clone turned towards the opened door. His hair clinging to his scalp in damp tendrils. His goggles still rested on the counter.

“Everything alright?”

“Tech, h...have you been recording me?”

His lips formed a line.

“I record a wide variety of subjects.” He replied, matter-of-factly.

His fuzzy gaze failed to catch the subtle twitch of muscles that morphed from confusion to disgust. It was her scowl that greeted him as the world came into focus once more. Chances were favorable that a clash was imminent.

“Is there something wrong with my interests?”

“You interests? You sneaking recordings of me is an interest?!” She fumed. shoving his datapad against his bare chest.

His deft hands kept the device from tumbling to the ground. His gaze lifted as she began her escape. She laid her fingers on the handle when he spoke.

“Your voice is soothing.”

She froze before glancing over her shoulder, “What?”

He pressed a few buttons before turning the datapad to her. Portions of the screen were marked off with color coded bars. The date at the top correlated with him and his brothers being away. She glanced back up to him.

“This is...a morning routine?”

He tapped on one of the events with an alarm. Her voice poured through the datapad's speaker again. He played another from a different barred off section of his schedule.

“It's common for people to crave structure and routine.” He explained after his most recent selection called for him to take a break and stretch his legs.

His free hand cradled her chin tilting her to meet his spectacles.

“One such example of structure would be your voice as it has become a welcomed presence.”

She shook her head, “So it's not a kink but a comfort.”

“I thought it was obvious.”

She was silent for a few moments. Her shoulders silently shaking before laughter bubbled up from her throat.

“Alright, this way.”

She grabbed his free hand pulling him out of the refresher and to the bed.

“Lay back.” She offered gently before joining him.

She curled up against his side as he laid on his back. The smile she flashed him touched her eyes.

“Now,” She began, “how about you tell me what things you want me to say.”

@locitapurplepink @rain-on-kamino @writing-positivelyexisting @burningfieldof-clover @padawancat97 @ahsokastechie @techs-stitches

[pinnithin-writes]

more of a feeling

Mission to Zyxx fic, mild spoilers for season 5 if you're not caught up. This started as rambling about our bodies sabotaging us and turned into a conversation about our bodies taking care of us. 2117 words.

It was simple, really. It all came down to chemistry.

C-53 knew how emotions worked, of course; he’d even go so far as to call himself a veteran by now. Every frame he’d inhabited was a different experience, but the emotions he felt in those frames were a reassuring constant. He knew the programming for joy. He could trace the source code for anger. His cube felt it all the same, and no matter how many diagnostics he had to run in an unfamiliar body, his thoughts, his feelings, and his personality grounded him through the flux.

Until, that is, the failed clone of a scientist shoved him in a meat suit without his consent.

Emotions were different when he was piloting flesh. They governed his body more than he was used to. They still generated from C-53’s cube, but now that cube was hooked up to nerves and synapses, blood and organs, and those living, breathing parts responded accordingly. He was a miracle of a machine, truly – a code given life – but he couldn’t wax poetic about something like that when his pores leaked and his muscles tired and his stomach twisted in knots.

It was hard enough dealing with a body that resisted his will at every turn. It was worse still that every fleeting feeling affected him on the molecular level. He didn’t know how organics got anything done like this. Frustration made his head pound and his guts churn. Despair burned his eyes and locked his throat. Even pleasant feelings – affection, mirth – stole his breath, made his pulse race. It was distracting at best and debilitating at worst. Surely there was a way to bypass these effects.

Unable to connect his consciousness to high speed internet, he had to go about this the old fashioned way, which made it a slow process indeed. Thankfully, the USS Synergy owned a vast library, which he took advantage of to scan every file they had on hermanns, discovering himself.

He did most of his research at night. He told himself this was because he was less likely to be interrupted, but in truth he was embarrassed at his own inefficiency. Even in the old loader frame, downloading the data would have taken all of ten seconds. And though he knew his crewmates wouldn’t humiliate him, he still didn’t want to be seen like this. Having to move his eyes across a screen, absorb and process the words they scanned, and then file that information away in his slippery maze of a brain, line after line after line after line after line.

The hours of learning made him feel childish. C-53 was tired.

But he was getting somewhere. When exhaustion pulled at his eyelids and his thoughts went fuzzy in the late, still hours on Bargie, he knew it was adenosine flooding his neural pathways and inhibiting his functionality. No code existed to override adenosine. Caffeine, however, could counteract it for a short time (with the unfortunate side effect of upsetting his stomach and tasting like tar).

C-53 pored over chemistry texts and neuroscience studies, learning what made hermanns - and thus, hermanoids - do what they did. There were no comparable texts on tellurians in this galaxy, but the science, from what he could remember, was quite similar. It was all chemicals, and those chemicals told his brain to tell his body how to act.

It was exceptionally overcomplicated. There was always some other influencing factor to his body, a sensory input or a thought or even his DNA - Jeremy’s genetic memory - that scrambled a system that could theoretically be very streamlined.

An example: he could eat something that tasted good (peanut butter and chocolate), triggering a flood of dopamine that caused him to feel happy. But Jeremy was allergic to tree nuts, so his immune system attacks him for a perceived threat that doesn’t exist, so forcefully that he could die from it. It was as fascinating as it was annoying. Who knew organics could have glitches? Too bad he hadn’t figured out how to debug anaphylactic shock.

He didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish by doing all this research. In a way, studying why his body actively sabotaged him was a comfort, but the more he learned, the more faults he discovered. Evolution was a temperamental thing. He much preferred the elegance of engineering.

At present, it was a dark hour on Bargie, docked and slumbering with her crew on the Synergy. Half awake in the conversation pit, amidst a tangle of textbooks and portable screens, C-53 sat alone under the red glow of the security lights. Sprawled as he was, C-53 didn’t immediately notice Pleck wandering into the room until he said his name.

Blurry lines of text sharpened as he startled, then relaxed. “Hm? Oh, hey Pleck,” he said.

“C-53, it’s like, three in the morning,” Pleck responded. Bare footsteps signaled his approach, and then he dropped onto the couch next to C-53, a glass of water in one hand and an orange fruit in the other. He reached over and set the glass precariously on the cushion between them. “Y’know, tellurians usually sleep around this time,” he pointed out helpfully. “What are you doing out here?”

The info tablet C-53 held was inches away from his face. “I’m learning about my pineal gland,” he announced dully.

A hormone regulator located near the brain stem. Releases melatonin and influences one’s circadian rhythm. Well, it wasn’t doing a very good job right now, was it?

“Cool, is that something like - do tellurians have that too or just, y’know,” Pleck drew his feet up to sit cross-legged, “whatever you are?”

C-53 couldn’t help but smirk mirthlessly at that. “It’s found in most vertebrates, so yes, I would imagine both you and whatever I am have one.” He set the tablet aside to look at Pleck, but the screen made him night blind, and he could only see the afterimage of a splotchy red rectangle in the darkness. “Why are you awake?”

“Oh, I woke up thirsty,” Pleck explained easily. He fiddled with the peel on his fruit as he spoke. “And then I thought, well, while I’m up I might as well grab a snack, and then I saw you sitting there so,” he shrugged, “here I am.”

It was a better explanation than what C-53 had. And it was a far better explanation than Pleck would have given several months ago, when the Allwheat was still worming into his brain and keeping him up at odd hours. C-53 was thankful those days were behind them. As the afterimage of the tablet faded and Pleck became a collection of grays and blues beside him, he quietly mourned the loss of his night vision. And his regular vision.

“You ever had one of these, C-53?” Pleck asked. He finally got his fingernails under the skin and began peeling. “The Themm grow these instead of oranges. They’re kind of sour?”

“I haven’t,” C-53 answered. He hadn’t eaten an orange before, for that matter, but he wasn’t too interested in expanding his food horizons. Most things had an unpleasant texture to him.

“Do you want some?” Pleck went on, adding pieces of rind to the small pile in his lap. He slanted C-53 a glance. “Oranges are the most shareable fruit.”

“No, thank you.”

Pleck shrugged again before separating a slice of not-orange and popping it in his mouth. As he chewed in silence, C-53 picked up the glass between them and placed it safely on the coffee table. Piles of nearby notes were scrawled in his own clumsy hand, amateur diagrams and chemical formulas with lots of arrows and exclamation marks littering the margins. Writing it down helped the nonstick pan of his brain gain some traction, he found, but the coffee table was starting to look like Nermut’s conspiracy wall after so many hours of research.

His neck ached. His head pounded out a protest.

He’d been pushing his brain and body to its limits and had what to show for it? A newfound disgust with himself? A frustration he only knew more intimately? C-53 frowned and used one of his papers as a coaster.

Beside him, Pleck happily ate his fruit, unbothered. Being organic was easy for him; he was a native to his body and didn’t know anything else. C-53 pitied and envied him in equal measure.

“You’re going to bed soon, right C-53?” Pleck asked after making his way through half the orange. He reached to retrieve his glass from the table, but condensation stuck a note about the amygdala to the bottom. “Oh,” he remarked.

C-53 peeled it off for him. “I don’t like sleeping,” he explained, crumpling the note and tossing it on the table. “So I’m reading.”

Pleck took a sip of water and frowned. “You gotta sleep sometime.”

“I know,” he answered shortly. He’d read dozens of articles about the side effects of sleeplessness. Fatigue, irritability, memory issues, hallucinations if you waited long enough. He knew he’d crash eventually, he just wasn’t especially motivated to avoid it. “It feels bad,” he went on. “Waking up is disorienting.”

There was a thoughtful crease between Pleck’s brows; C-53 could barely see it under the security lights. Pleck took a moment to set his glass back down on the table before turning the remainder of the fruit over in his hands. “Is it because you don’t feel safe?” he asked without looking up.

“I’m… sorry?”

“It’s just - y’know, when I was having trouble sleeping-”

“Pleck, I’m not a lunatic,” C-53 interrupted. “I know I’m perfectly safe on Bargie. I just don’t like sleeping. I don’t need you to teach me how to be tellurian, okay?” He gestured at the pathetic mess of research before him, scrawled in an obvious lunatic’s hand. “I’m figuring it out.”

Pleck fed himself a section of orange and didn’t answer right away. On C-53’s other side, the info tablet’s screen auto timed out and went dark. They were bathed in red completely now, one of them frustrated and exhausted, the other watchful and concerned. C-53 removed his glasses and rubbed at his stinging eyes.

“Sorry,” he said after a time. “I’m just…”

“Tired?” Pleck offered.

C-53’s sigh went through his whole body. “Yes.”

A stubborn, senseless part of him didn’t want to overcome this. He didn’t want to be an example of perseverance, some epic struggle conquered by learning to live well. He wanted to kick and bite and throw a fit over this new frame. It wasn’t fair.

“C-53,” Pleck broke quietly into his thoughts. “You don’t have to, y’know, have the answer to everything all the time. Sometimes you have to just… do what your body is telling you to do, even if you don’t want to.” He offered an orange slice in C-53’s direction. “It’s trying to take care of you.”

“You say that like this flesh suit has a soul,” C-53 grumbled, but he took the fruit anyway, staring glumly as it lay in his stupid, sweaty palm.

“Well, sure it does.” Pleck smiled and prodded his shoulder with an index finger. “It’s you.”

C-53 fell silent. It was strange, learning things from Pleck. He was used to the roles being reversed, and it shifted something uncomfortably inside him every time it happened. Dutifully, he put the orange in his mouth, felt the tart flavor burst on his tongue, and chewed past the slimy sensation until he was able to swallow it. He was unable to hide a shudder.

Pleck watched him with one hopeful eye. “Not your favorite?” he guessed.

“It’s the texture,” C-53 explained, grimacing. But he held his hand out for another slice in spite of it.

Pleck grinned. “We can find something you like to eat instead of this,” he said, scooping the orange peels out of his lap and leaving them on the coffee table for later cleanup. “It doesn’t have to all be bad. Come on,” he rose from his seat and offered C-53 his hand. “Let’s check the kitchen for something better and then, y’know, maybe try and get some sleep?”

The please was unspoken, but C-53 could see it on Pleck’s freckled face. He was trying to take care of him, just like his clunky, unfamiliar body was. C-53 didn’t like his body very much, and wasn’t sure he ever would, but he liked Pleck enough to go along with him for now. He didn’t know what kind of chemical governed trust. He didn’t even let himself ask.

C-53 took Pleck’s hand, tried not to flinch from the zing it sent up his arm, and followed him out of the pit.

[danger-xylophones]

The Ice General Part 3

{masterlist}

Words: 3270

Warnings: Rex continues to be a dumbass but y’know, this is necessary for progress. Rex might seem kind of OOC but I would like to defend it by saying, this is early-war “Regs” Rex and that I’ve got a plan

Taglist: @tararuthven // @questforgalas // @000ayfh // @pinkiemme

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……………………………………

“I can’t believe you punched him.” A muffled voice filtered into Rex’s foggy mind, cutting through the haze the cool bite of a wintery breeze. 

“What? You were about to yourself!” A different voice lower and less controlled answered back. The owner sounded incredibly offended. 

“Yes but I stopped!” The first voice hissed back. “You can’t just go about bashing peoples’ skulls in whenever you feel like it! What if one of his men saw?”

A scoff followed the question and Rex fought to peel his eyes open. He was on a cot, that much was for certain. Above him was the ‘ceiling’ of a tent and to his left was a roll-away cart that looked to be stocked with all sorts of medical equipment. He was in the med tent. Great. But how the hell had he gotten there? “I will bash in whoever’s skull whenever I feel necessary. He made you uncomfortable, kih’vod, he got what he deserved.” A clone. The second voice belonged to a clone.

A low sigh barely filtered through the heavy tarp material of the tent. Stifling a groan, Rex propped himself up on his elbows. Backlit by firelight and lamps were the outlines of two figures outside the entrance of the tent. The shorter of the two looked a bit strange so Rex had to wager a guess that they had their head in their hands. “Rex didn’t know, vod. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t deserve having his lights knocked out for that!” There was so much frustration encapsulated in the first speaker’s voice that it took Rex a while to piece together that the one speaking was Y/n. When had he made her uncomfortable? 

As if attempting to answer for him, Rex’s attention was brought to the dull pain in the side of his head. Slowly, he touched his fingers to the epicenter only to find a small piece of fabric had been stuck to it. All at once, everything came back to him and the captain was confronted with a swirling mix of anger, confusion, and guilt. He should’ve known better than to grab at her like that. But, that didn’t quite match up with how violent her reaction had been. And why had Hyde punched him? Jjannex 1. He brought up Jjannex 1...Ice’s face appeared in his mind’s eye. Her e/c eyes were clouded and distant, shimmering with some long-suppressed memory that threatened to overwhelm her. Her mouth had twitched downward in a fraction of a second, a slight wobble of her bottom lip had accompanied it. Her eyebrows creased, her posture stiffened. She had looked devastated...he hated that the first emotion he got her to show was such a destructive one. 

“I still think he deserved it, if not for that then for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Nosey ol’ captain, ain’t he?” Hyde’s tone was abrasive and ignited something within Rex’s chest. 

“Watch it.” Ice barked back, her silhouette adjusting to accommodate the finger she jabbed into Hyde’s chest. “He still outranks you.” The duo lapsed into silence for a moment though it was tense and unpleasant even from Rex’s position inside the tent. While Rex was left to stew on his earlier actions that led him to this predicament, two more figures emerged outside the tent. 

Ice’s tone lightened considerably as she spoke though there was still the undercurrent of bitter frustration. “Ah, good, Bolt…” 

“What’s the damage?” The voice of Bolt was not what Rex was expecting. There was the twinge of an accent hiding within the low timbre of every clone’s voice. But his lilted on certain words, making him sound like he was singing. 

“Minimal. I did what I could for him.” Rex’s brow quirked at Ice’s words. She had done what she could? Rex’s fingertips danced over the bandage once more. “The skin was broken where Hyde made contact on his temple, that’s what knocked him out. His bottom lip’s split where he macked off Hyde’s cuirass and he’s got some bruising under his eyes from the impact as well, his nose took most of the weight.” Ice explained briskly and Rex had two seconds to fall back and pretend to be asleep upon realizing the general was on the move. “His temple wasn’t bad enough to warrant a patch,” The woman’s voice continued, unwavering, as she flicked the flap of the tent out of the way and began to approach. Three sets of footsteps followed her own. “So, I stuck with a classic plaster. I applied some ointment to his lip but wasn’t sure what to do for the bruises. Checked his nose, didn’t seem broken.” Her voice grew louder and louder as she drew closer. The Ice General was standing at the head of his cot, just out of reach. There was the familiar sound of plastoid shifting and Rex felt a hovering presence over his face like he was being analyzed. 

“Huh,” the presence backed off. “See what you mean. Well, he’s been mildly concussed and his bone is bruised but other than that, he should be fine. I’ll give him a bactashot when he wakes up, general, and he’ll be good as new come mornin’.” It was Bolt who had hovered over him, the field medic. “How long’s he been out?” 

“We just passed the eight-minute mark.” Her reply was immediate. He’d been passed out for eight minutes? Maybe he should let them know he’s awake...But, then Ice would fall back into her emotionless drawl and hearing her like this-so emotionally free?-it was surreal. Rex wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want her to stop. 

A low whistle came from somewhere farther in the tent. “Damn, you sure did a number on him, Hyde.” The specific cadence in the man’s voice alerted Rex that Fritz was the fifth person in the tent. 

“He touched her!” 

A dead silence followed his reply. 

“He grabbed my arm.” Till Ice jumped in to rectify it. The captain heard a soft ‘oh’ fall from Bolt. 

A rustling came from the roll away and Rex would wager a guess that Bolt was digging for the aforementioned bactashot. 

“Y’know, I can’t say I blame you, Hyde. Pretty sure I would have done the same.” Fritz piped up, sounding as though he was deep in thought. 

A snort came from Bolt. “You almost did! When Skywalker clapped her on the back-thought we’d be finishing our mission alone.” 

“Lay a hand on my wife and I’ll end your life, that’s all I’m saying.” 

Rex’s heart plummeted as a chill seemed to creep through him. Wife? Rex thought. That, that would make sense. Fritz and Ice were awfully close. But Ice was a Jedi. They couldn’t…

“Awee, Fritzy!” Ice cooed in a high voice, “You’re an idiot!” 

Fritz chuckled, loud and boisterous.“Your idiot.” 

Someone retched close to his feet. “Gross. Take your grossness elsewhere please.” 

“Why? You jealous that I’m the only one that can get away with flirting with the general, Hyde?” 

“No, I don’t want your abhorrent flirting throwing me off my game when I see Kacrobe again.” 

“’Abhorrent’, that’s a big word for you, Hyde.” 

“Sadly, it still dwarfs when compared to your ego, Fritz.” 

“Can it, you two.” Ice cut in. “Did you ask him out yet?” Silence met her question till it was broken with a high pitched squeal that made Rex flinch. “Hyde! Ner ori’vod is all grown up!”

“Hey, vod, you woke him up.” Bolt’s lilting voice commented dully. Rex stifled a defeated sigh and fluttered his eyes open as if he had been asleep so he had just enough time to see Ice retracting from the hug she had wrapped Hyde in. 

“Ah,” her voice had returned to the emotionless drawl as she folded her hands in front of her and smoothed her face out till no emotion was present. “Good evening, Captain.” And Rex had never felt more defeated. 

…………………………………………………..

Ice had been avoiding him ever since and Captain Rex was more upset by that then he thought he’d be. It was odd because it wasn’t like he and the General had interacted frequently before but at least if she had a matter to discuss with him, she would do it in person but now she’d just send someone to tell him. This also didn’t prove helpful in his quest to understand what had happened to the Veterans as now he had to understand her. The story of the Battle of Jjannex 1 was apparently as intricately intertwined with the Ice general as it was with her men. 

There was also another issue that had arisen-the commander and the general’s...relationship. Rex hoped that it was just some elaborate joke he was misinterpreting but the alternate reality had to be examined as well because it was treasonous. It was so against both regulations and codes that Rex was almost flabbergasted that he had to consider it. What made it worse? If it was true, he had to be the one to call them out on it. He had to go against the Ice general and her commander and her devoted men. If he got this wrong, he’d never hear the end of it, if he got this right-the grand army was out a general and his vod would be court-martialed, and if he did nothing? It was unlikely anyone would find out given the perpetual stoic general and the rather fun commander. Most people would just assume that it was a joke. But he had heard him call the general his wife. He had heard it straight from the source. But who would believe him?

“Hey, vod, you haven’t touched your food.” Fives’s voice was accompanied by a rough nudge of his arm that caused it to slide off his thigh. The captain scrambled to right himself as he turned to look at his newest recruit. 

“Sorry, got something on my mind.” The captain hurriedly coughed out and resumed aimlessly poking at his food to get Fives off his back. It didn’t work.

“Yeah, I could tell. Wanna talk about it?” Fives asked, evidently not willing to drop the conversation. 

Rex sighed through his nose. “No, Fives, I don’t.” 

“Really? Does it have to do with the fight you got into yesterday?” 

Rex couldn’t help but roll his eyes. After he had woken up, he had been engulfed in a largely one-sided conversation between himself in Hyde that basically boiled down to they would tell the truth about what happened to his men and then they would never bring it up again. “The truth” they had decided to tell them though was boiled down to he had brought up a sensitive issue and things had escalated. True? Yes. The truth? Not to him. The truth was that the Ice general and her men were hiding something and he was trying to get to the bottom of it. “I said I don’t want to talk about it, Fives.” Rex was trying to keep his voice under control, he had no right to yell at the private when his foul mood was in no way Fives’s fault. 

“Does it have to do with Ice? You haven’t been able to take your eyes off of her since yesterday.” He persisted and Rex let out a disappointed sigh. He liked Fives but his stubbornness that proved helpful in battle could easily turn annoying. 

“Would you please not phrase it like that?” The captain groaned, finally setting his ignored meal to the side. “I’ve been trying to keep an eye on her because I need to talk to her. She’s hiding something-her and the Veterans.” 

“Ah, yes, because that makes it any less creepy, alor’ad.” The younger man huffed. “Sir, with all due respect, maybe you should let it go? I’m sure that whatever it is, the Vets took care of it and it’s just a sore topic now.” 

Rex’s eyes grew wide as he was struck speechless. “I...I’m surprised to hear you say that, Fives.” The captain fought to keep his face from going slack as he struggled to articulate what he was thinking. “Normally, you’re the first to question stuff like this.” 

The private shrugged and finished up his meal before setting it to the side. “‘Been talkin’ to her men an’ they all love her. They trust her, captain, why can’t you?” Fives turned away when one of the younger 205th boys called his name and asked if he’d lend him a hand with something which left the captain time to mull over his question. Why didn’t he trust her? Part of him wanted to say that it was because she was possibly committing treason with one of her men. But Rex knew deep down that he hadn’t trusted her from the beginning. Why though? Because she was mysterious? Because he didn’t know why she acted the way she did? Because he didn’t understand why her men all had the same tattoo? Because he couldn’t figure out what made her so different from the other Jedi? 

That had to be it. He hadn’t worked with many Jedi but he had seen how they interacted with their troops and generally, it was always the same. They were respectfully distant-it was clear that most of them were concerned for their well-being but none of them were really close. None of them were named vod (except maybe Plo Koon). But Y/n L/n was. She adored her men and had even been called kih’vod. That was a big deal. That showed that their loyalty was to her. That showed that they trusted her: so why couldn’t he?  

“Captain Rex.” a clone cleared his throat to his left and Rex finally looked away from where Fives had disappeared off to. Hyde, of all people, was standing at attention beside him. 

“Uh, at ease…” Rex ordered out of habit though his heart wasn’t in it. “What did you need?” 

Hyde took a low breath as though he was preparing to do something he’d regret for the rest of his life. “General L/n was wondering if you would like to join us for a sparring match.” 

The captain’s eyebrows shot up. She was…? Why? Hadn’t he horribly offended her not even 24 hours ago? “Um, sure. I guess.” He agreed hesitantly, not entirely sure that this was real. Hyde dipped his head and beckoned for him to follow. Hyde led him farther and farther away from where he had stopped to have his breakfast until he found himself in a makeshift enclosure made from a cliff and several tents. It was still early morning so it was relatively dark and cool, making it the perfect time for a quick match but what Rex didn’t understand was why only he had been invited.

“Hyde,” So, he decided to ask, “Why just me?” 

“Sparring is...personal for the general. And, since she knows you don’t trust her, she was hoping to make up for last night.” Hyde explained almost solemnly, as he came to a stop on the edge of the ring. What did that mean? ‘Sparring is personal’. Why? Once again, the captain found his already innumerable questions perpetually multiplying. “Wait here, I’ll go get her.” Before Rex could stop him, Hyde had swept away and disappeared into a tent the captain had come to recognize as L/n’s. 

As Rex waited in the blissful coolness of morning on the desert planet, he found himself distracted by the Ice general once again. She was looking to make up for last night, that much he could wrap his head around but what he didn’t understand was what possessed her to want to. Did she know he had overheard Fritz call her his riduur? Was this her way of keeping him quiet? Or was this her way of distracting him from Jjannex 1? By offering to let him in on a personal tradition, was she hoping to stop him from further investigating the matching tattoos? If it was, then she would be disappointed to learn that she would fail. If anything, it made Rex want to keep digging.  

“Ah, Captain Rex, it is good to hear that you decided to join us.” The blond man was pulled from his ponderings by the voice of the woman he was so troubled by. Her voice was still, as ever, betraying neither elation nor distaste for his agreement. She came around his left, clad in her light tan tunic that seemed to be the uniform of the Jedi. Her cloak had been done away with, presumably, so it wouldn’t get in the way while she fought and that left the captain with a clear view of the two lightsabers that hung on her belt. “I hope you were not busy when Hyde found you?” 

It took the captain a moment to realize that it was a question. “Oh, uh, no, no. I wasn’t.” Rex’s eyes fell away from hers, cold, calculating, frozen, and to the lightsabers once more. “Are you gonna keep those on ya?” He nodded to the weapons. 

Y/n’s head tilted to the side as she processed his question. She looked like a curious loth-cat. “They are my defenses, aren’t they?” 

“Your defenses?” Rex didn’t like the sound of that. Why would she need her lightsabers to defend her during a sparring match with a clone? 

“Indeed…” She dragged out before turning to Hyde who was busily fidgeting with one of his vambraces. “Did you not explain what sparring for us entails?” 

The red-head looked up for a moment, disinterested. “No, was I supposed to?” 

Ice took a moment to sigh, her face was still unfaltering. “Yes, Hyde, you were supposed to.” She shook her head before turning her unimpassioned gaze back to Rex. “I suppose you will just have to learn through observation, Captain.” Y/n moved on swiftly, spotting something behind the captain that had her enraptured in a moment. “Fritz! Who have you got?” She projected as she moved past the blond who turned to see what she was talking about. Commander Fritz was quickly approaching with Jekyll, Bolt, Empio, Codex, Boom, and two others the captain didn’t recognize. “Ah, Codex, I see you’ve returned. And we have Boom, Phantom, and Nexus as our three other newcomers? Welcome, boys.” The three men who were apparently new to sparring just like him quickly saluted Ice till she made a gesture for them to relax. “Alright, Phantom, Nexus you two take that corner. Jekyll, Empio, Codex, over there. Hyde, Fritz, beside the tent and finally, Bolt and-” 

“Sorry to interrupt, Ice, but I’m gonna sit this one out-prefer not to get my ass whooped today.” Bolt chirped from the seat he had taken atop three crates off to Rex’s left. 

...what? Rex couldn’t help but think. Ice blinked at the medic before shrugging. “Alright then, hand Rex your blaster.” ...what? He thought again as the dark haired man pressed his blaster into his hand. “And your helmet since he didn’t bring his.” ...WHAT? “Captain, I suggest you take up a position there.” Ice ordered softly and pointed to where she meant. Still perplexed beyond all measure, the captain complied. A few seconds passed as Ice observed the gathered men and how she had placed them and Rex couldn’t help but shift on his feet, his nerves getting the better of him. With a nod, Ice grabbed her lightsabers and moved to be equidistant from each man. “Gentlemen, set your blasters to stun.” ...W H A T? 

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[hrtiu]

@officialrexsoka My contribution for day 3 of Rexsoka week, ‘secret.’ It’s a little late, I know! Ahsoka discovers a secret about her master that throws everything she knows into doubt. There's only one person who can help ground her again. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758330

Don’t Tell

Don’t tell anyone. Please.

Those words echoed through Ahsoka’s mind as she went about her normal routine at the Jedi Temple in a daze. Her meditations were a mess, Barriss trounced her in each of their spars, and the younglings ran wild under her distracted care.

“Padawan Tano!”

Angry words pulled Ahsoka from her haze and she shook her head to clear it, noticing first Katooni hanging off her hand and second Jacosta Nu marching towards her, the source of the angry words.

“Ahsoka!” Katooni whined. “Petro’s making fun of me! Tell him to stop!”

“Oh, um. Petro!” Ahsoka said, looking around for the errant youngling and realizing that he and all the other children she’d brought here were running roughshod all over the library. “Petro! Get down from there!” she snapped.

“Padawan Tano,” Master Nu said again. “Don’t bring the younglings here if you can’t control them.”

“I’m sorry, Master Nu. My mind was wandering. I’ll take them back now,” Ahsoka said, already moving to corral the children together.

She felt Master Nu’s disapproving eyes on her all the way out the door. Blast, she thought, I’ll have to find a way to make it up to her later.

Ahsoka shepherded the younglings back to their wing of the temple, passing by Barriss on her way.

“Hey Barriss,” Ahsoka said, reaching a hand out to grab her friend’s attention, “Would you mind taking the kids back to the youngling’s hall? I’m… not feeling great.”

“No problem,” Barriss said, her brows knitting together. “Is everything ok?”

“No. I mean, yeah. Everything’s fine,” Ahsoka said, trying to pull her scattered thoughts together. “Thanks, Barriss.”

Ahsoka turned and left the crowd of rowdy children with Barriss, wandering back through the temple with no clear destination. The once-familiar halls looked strange and uncanny—like all the colors had been inverted, or she was seeing them through a different dimension. 

Don’t tell anyone.

Ahsoka’s comm rang out and she nearly jumped out of her skin before recognizing the sound and answering.

“Hey Snips? It’s me,” Anakin’s voice came from the comm.

At the sound of her master’s voice, memories rose unbidden to Ahsoka’s mind. 

Senator Amidala—Padme—in the room with her arms around a man. Why would she be doing this in Anakin’s quarters? Why would she be in his quarters in the first place? Padme startled at the sound of Ahsoka’s footstep and jerked away from her lover, who turned around in surprise-

“What’s up?” Ahsoka said into the comm, her tone completely neutral.

“Obi-Wan wants to brief us on the mission on Yavin after dinner. Meet us there, alright?” Anakin said.

“Yeah…”

“Snips? You ok?”

“I’m fine.”

“...About earlier…”

“I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry,” Ahsoka said neutrally.

“No, that’s not-” Anakin cut himself off with a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I didn’t want this to affect anyone else.”

“It’s fine. It’s not really my business anyway.”

Ahsoka wouldn’t tell the Council about Anakin, though she’d hate herself for it. Ahsoka had never been one of the more orthodox members of the Order, but this was big, and she knew it would weigh on her mind. But she couldn’t ruin Anakin’s life like that. She couldn’t do that to a friend.

Except… Anakin wasn’t exactly her friend, was he? They were friendly, but he was her master. He was her master, and he was asking her to hide something for him.

“Well… Thanks, Snips. Oh, and would you mind telling Rex about the briefing, too? I’m about to step into a meeting.”

“No problem, master,” Ahsoka said.

“See you later then.”

Anakin closed the comm, and Ahsoka realized she’d stopped walking. She was between two giant pillars among one of the many colonnades surrounding the temple. This aisle was essentially indistinguishable from all the others, but she still recognized it as an important place in her life’s journey. This was the aisle she’d walked down after she’d been assigned Anakin as her master. She’d been so excited, without an ounce of nervousness or doubt.

Ahsoka stared off into the distance a moment longer, then shook her head and reached for her comm. She was about to message Rex when she decided to go see him in person instead. She needed to get out of this place for a little while.

Rex was easy to find, exactly where Ahsoka expected in the barracks the 501st was typically assigned in the Republic Center for Military Operations whenever they were on-planet. He was finishing up some kind of officers’ meeting when Ahsoka arrived, so she waited patiently for him to finish in the back of the barracks hall.

She caught his eye after a few minutes, and he nodded to her smartly, saying a few more final words before dismissing his men. The men scattered, some going back to their bunks and others heading for recreational facilities, and Rex found Ahsoka by the door.

“Hey Commander. Don’t see you down here too often,” he said.

“I come by!” Ahsoka said indignantly.

Rex held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright! To what do we owe this honor.”

Ahsoka laughed, but it was a little half-hearted even to her ears. “It’s no big honor, Rex. I just came to let you know there’ll be a briefing with Obi-Wan in the war room after dinner.”

“Oh,” Rex said, undoubtedly wondering why she hadn’t just commed him. “I’ll be there.”

Ahsoka bit back the frown that rose to her lips. What, did Rex not want to see her in person? Would he have preferred she just comm?

Ahsoka quickly turned those thoughts from her mind. They led down paths she really couldn’t afford to contemplate, especially not now. “Do you mind walking with me for a bit?” she asked. “We still have a while till dinner.”

“No problem, Commander. Where to?”

“How about… to the main plaza? It’s nice and martial. Could get us in the right mood for the briefing.”

Rex laughed and tucked his helmet under his arm. “Sure thing, sir.”

They walked in companionable silence through the halls, passing by boisterous soldiers and stern officers and harried engineers. Rex looked at her through the side of his eye a few times, obviously sensing that something was amiss, but he gave her space. Once they reached the main plaza, the crowds died out and the silence between them grew louder. 

Ahsoka led them to a low open balcony that overlooked the plaza, and she leaned against the balustrade with a sigh. Rex took his spot next to her, posture straight and sharp eyes measuring as he looked around the open area. He never did turn the soldier off, did he?

“Something on your mind, Commander?” he asked.

“Ahsoka.”

“Sir?”

“We’re not in a combat situation right now, Rex. You can just call me Ahsoka.”

Rex cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “Alright then… Something on your mind, Ahsoka?”

Ahsoka didn’t respond immediately, taking the time to order her thoughts. “I… What do you think of Anakin?”

“Of General Skywalker?”

“Do you know any other Anakins?” Ahsoka said with a slight roll of the eyes.

“Well…” Rex hesitated. “He’s a brave general. He leads from the front. He’s bold and decisive, but he understands the cost of his orders.”

“That’s what he’s like as a general. What’s he like as a Jedi?”

“I don’t know that I’m that qualified to answer that, sir.”

“You’ve met quite a few Jedi now. Just tell me what you think.”

Rex’s hesitation was even longer this time, and Ahsoka could see how uncomfortable the emotion was on Rex. Whatever he was, he wasn’t an indecisive man.

“I think that the General is a great Jedi, especially considering he seems… less naturally inclined to it than others.”

“Hmmm,” Ahsoka said, unable to disagree with that statement. 

There was a time when she would have thought that Anakin was a great Jedi—perhaps the greatest. She wasn’t so sure any more.

“He is… He is a great Jedi,” she said, as if convincing herself. “But… I used to think he had all the answers. I don’t think that anymore.”

She thought back to her accidental discovery in Anakin’s quarters, to her initial shock, and then to the first emotion she’d felt after she’d left the room and the surprise had faded. She’d expected to feel disappointed in his failure to live up to the Code, but instead she’d felt… resentful. Jealous. She looked sideways at Rex and her heart squeezed.

“Well I don’t think I have a lot of insight into any questions Jedi might ponder,” Rex said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“It’s like…” Ahsoka said, standing up straight with a sudden energy and turning towards Rex. “The clone troopers have a lot of rules they have to follow, right? You wouldn’t ask your men to follow a rule and then not follow it yourself, right? That’s not fair.”

The light seemed to shift in Rex’s eye. “I wouldn’t, no. But I’d imagine it’s a bit more complicated if you’re a Jedi. There’s so much riding on your shoulders, if you need an outlet and it’s not hurting anybody, maybe it’s… ok.”

Maybe it’s ok? Ahsoka’s brain stuttered to a halt. Was Rex saying What she thought he was? Did he think it was ok for Jedi to break the Code, to find a… personal outlet? If… if he thought that… maybe…

Ahsoka’s imagination conjured up an image of two lovers in a room, locked in a passionate embrace. Except instead of Anakin, Ahsoka was the Jedi breaking her Code. And instead of Padme, it was a tall, olive skinned, blond haired man holding her tight.

Thoughts she’d been repressing for months broke free like water from a dam, and heat rose to Ahsoka’s lekku as she turned her face from Rex’s. Now that the rancor was out of the pit, she didn’t know if she could put it back in.

“I think it’s probably for the best if we forgive Anakin his weaknesses,” Rex continued. “Makes no sense to throw away all the good because of one problem.” 

Ahsoka turned back to Rex and stared blankly until her brain finally caught up with her ears and she realized what he was saying.

“Wait,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You know, don’t you?”

Rex coughed awkwardly and avoided Ahsoka’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, Commander.”

“Anakin’s weaknesses. Tell me we’re not talking about the same thing.”

Rex blinked blankly back at Ahsoka, then understanding gradually dawned across his features. “How did you find out?”

“Walked into Anakin’s quarters when he wasn’t expecting it,” Ahsoka said, and Rex winced. “What about you?” 

Rex paled, realizing he’d said more than he meant. “I, uh, don’t know anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Rex. This is just a private conversation between friends. I won’t get you or him in trouble, I promise. Just be real with me.”

Rex’s stoic expression held for several long moments, then he caved. “He kept sending her messages while we were out on a mission. Wasn’t as subtle as he thought about it.”

“So… this doesn’t bother you?”

Rex’s posture relaxed and he sighed, leaning a hip against the balustrade. “I don’t… I can’t say I’m happy about it, but it doesn’t seem to affect his command, so I don’t feel compelled to report him to his superiors. It seems like Jedi business to me, and I don’t even know if my involvement would be welcomed.”

“Hmmm.” Ahsoka could understand that, but she was in a different position. She was a part of the Jedi, and Anakin’s indiscretions were something she was definitely obligated to tell someone about. “I don’t like feeling like I have to keep his secrets,” she said eventually.

Rex slowly nodded. “Yeah. Me neither,” he admitted.

“And honestly, it just seems so unfair. I don’t get to flaunt the Jedi Code, why should he?”

Rex looked at her sideways. “Do you want to flaunt the Jedi Code?”

Ahsoka’s lekku flushed again. “No! I don’t know! But I don’t like hypocrisy. Do you know how many times Anakin has lectured me on attachment?”

“I think I’ve heard a few of those lectures myself.”

“There are a lot of good reasons the Jedi have the rules they do,” Ahsoka said, knowing she was letting her emotions get the better of herself but deciding she needed the outlet. “But then I see someone breaking the rules and seemingly suffering no consequences, and it makes me question what the point is.”

“I know what you mean. Do you remember last year, when I got a blaster bolt to the chest on Saleucami?”

“Yeah.” Of course she did. She’d received the report, knew he’d been left on some homestead in the middle of nowhere to recover from a life-threatening wound. She hadn’t had any feelings beyond friendship for him at the time, at least that she was aware of, but she’d still been terrified for him.

“While I was there, I met a clone deserter who’d abandoned the GAR and started a family. There he was, just living his life with his wife and kids on a farm in the middle of nowhere. I don’t want to desert myself, don’t get me wrong. But it seemed like he somehow managed to have it all, when that wasn’t supposed to be possible for us.”

Ahsoka nodded in understanding. Anakin and this clone deserter Rex had met, they’d managed to skirt the rules that everyone else lived by just because they wanted to. They’d had their uj cake and ate it too. If all the Jedi and all the clones behaved as they had, the whole GAR would fall apart. Why was it those two who got to be the exceptions.

“It didn’t really make me want to break the rules, per se,” she said. “But it made me a little… jealous.”

Rex nodded slowly.

“You too?” Ahsoka asked, surprised.

“Sure. I mean, who wouldn’t…” he trailed off.

“I never knew you wanted a family,” Ahsoka said quietly, her already tender heart aching just a little harder.

Rex shrugged. “I never really thought about it before I met Cut—the deserter. But I don’t know. You see a man with a loving wife and two energetic children, full of life and looking to him for guidance and protection? Who wouldn’t want that.”

Rex wanted that? Rex was one of the most selfless people Ahsoka had ever met. She’d never heard him admit to wanting anything but victory for the Republic. Not better armor, not food, not a warm place to sleep, not safety. But he wanted a family.

Ahsok felt an almost overwhelming urge to reach out and grab his hand. This was easily the most personal conversation they’d ever had, and if she was ever going to make her feelings known, now was probably her chance. She didn’t know if he felt for her the same way that she felt for him, but at the very least she knew he wanted love, and he was at least sympathetic to the idea of breaking regulations.

She could tell him now, and if he accepted her they’d find a way to make it work. They could keep it secret, like Padme and Anakin. Nobody would have to know. 

Ahsoka found herself caught up in the idea. After a dangerous mission he’d come see her under the pretense of giving a report. He’d kiss her passionately, greedy with the limited time they had together, not knowing when it would end. Whenever they were about to embark on an especially risky assignment they’d exchange weighty looks, knowing that each glance was a reaffirmation of their love. She’d come to know him in every way one could be known, and he’d return the favor. There would be no one in the galaxy she knew, loved, or trusted like Rex—and it would all be just for the two of them to know.

“But I’m glad General Skywalker has you for a Padawan,” Rex said, interrupting her vision.

“Huh?” Ahsoka said dumbly, still not fully recovered from the sudden realization of how much she wanted that imagined future.

“I know he’s your master, but I think he could learn a thing or two from you, too. You’re one of the most honest, true people I know. I know whenever I’m talking to you there are no secrets, you’ve got nothing to hide. You can’t buy that kind of trust, and I wouldn’t mind if some of that integrity rubbed off on the general.”

“Integrity?” Ahsoka asked, still feeling a little numb.

“Well, uh, that is-” Rex said, flustered. “I didn’t mean to say General Skywalker isn’t honest. He just… has some secrets, you know? I don’t mean to criticize, I mean, I don’t doubt our comma-”

“It’s fine, Rex,” Ahsoka said, raising a hand to stop his spiral. “I know what you meant.”

Rex’s words brought Ahsoka back down from the clouds. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t do what Anakin did—couldn’t act to the Council like the obedient Padawan, then go hiding a secret lover in her room. It wasn’t her, and even moreso, it wasn’t Rex.

Ahsoka looked down at the severe, duracrete floor, then up at Rex through her lashes. He looked back, still a little flustered, but more collected now. His golden-brown eyes were warm with sympathy and understanding, but he still stood tall, his back ramrod straight and his shoulders squared with perfect self-control. How did he do that? Most people were either strict and obedient but judgmental, or sympathetic and forgiving but less disciplined. Rex somehow managed to hold himself to the highest of standards while being understanding of other people’s flaws.

Rex deserved better than to be somebody’s dirty little secret.

If she was ever going to be with him—and against all reason and logic Ahsoka still hoped that one day she could—it would be open and honest. Everyone would know how much he meant to her. That wasn’t possible right now, but maybe someday it would be. Ahsoka couldn’t imagine how, but she still stubbornly hoped.

Rex’s comm beeped the change of the hour, and he checked the time. “I really should head to the mess before this briefing, Commander,” he said.

“Of course,” Ahsoka said, a little melancholy but more grounded than she’d been an hour ago. Rex always had a way of helping her figure things out. “I’m sorry I’ve kept you so long.”

“Not a problem, Commander. I… hope I’ve been helpful, in some way?”

“You have, Rex. You’re always helpful.”

“Glad to hear it, Commander.”

Rex saluted, then headed off towards the mess in haste. Their conversation had left him with limited time for dinner.

Ahsoka watched him leave the plaza, admiring the focus and intention evident in each of his steps. It struck her with sudden force that for some time now, Rex had been the person she looked to when she didn’t know what to do. She still admired Anakin, would still seek his advice, but Rex was the person she could always depend on to center herself on what was important—on what was right.

She closed her eyes and projected her wish for him into the Force, not knowing if the Force could understand this kind of request, but making it anyway. Please, let him be happy. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s him.  

[headfulloffantasies]

Distress Call

Part3 of Clones and Kings.

Rex couldn’t remember the name Mando had given the youngling, and at this point he was too afraid to ask.

Ao3 link

Rex couldn’t remember the name Mando had given the youngling, and at this point he was too afraid to ask.

“What are you doing?” Mando found Rex leaning over the baby Not-Yoda.

“Nothing,” Rex jumped up. He refused to admit he was looking into the kid’s eyes to try and see Master Yoda in those liquid depths.

Rex followed Mando up into the cockpit of Mando’s rust bucket. The old thing was pre-Imperial. Older than Rex. Though he supposed that wasn’t saying a whole lot considering he’d been an eight-year-old soldier at the rise of the Empire.

The green bean waddled his way into the cockpit and somehow wiggled into the seat behind Mando.

Rex didn’t ask about the coordinates Mando punched into the controls. He just remained grateful to have a ride off Jakku.

They hit atmo and broke into the endless black of space. Rex never got tired of the tiny cold stars. A million worlds lived out there. Rex had been fortunate enough to see a few, even help save a fair number. But seeing them spread out in an endless array of unconnected lights never ceased to send a thrill up his spine.

Those same lights reflected off Mando’s silvery helmet. Mando never took his bucket off. Rex didn’t question it. He’d had shinies in his ranks who’d clung to the safety of the helmet; proud of their paint and afraid to show the fear on their faces during battle. It didn’t really matter. Rex could read his vod’s body language better than he could read Basic. Applying the same to Mando continued to startle and stab at the old wound.

The radio suddenly cackled. Mando reached over and jiggled something. A garbled voice tried to speak.

“It sounds like a distress call,” Mando said.

Rex leaned forward, straining to hear. Mando gave the radio a thump. The signal suddenly came through loud and clear.

“This is CT- 5097. Requesting backup. I need help.”

Rex’s blood ran cold. He knew that voice. Vod. He took a steadying breath.

“He sounds like you,” Mando said.

Rex shook his head. “Most clones do, to outsiders. No offense.”

“None taken.”

The other clone gasped, “CT-5097 in need of assistance. Any troopers receiving?”

Rex shook his head. “Turn it off.”

Mando looked at him sharply.

“Shut it down,” Rex said. He slammed his fist against his armrest. “Turn it off, dank ferrec!”

Mando flipped the switch.

Rex threw himself to his feet. He paced up and down the cockpit running his hands over his shaven scalp.

“What’s going on?” Mando asked. “Do you know who that was?”

“No,” Rex shook his head. “That’s the problem. I don’t know any trooper 5097. Clones don’t use their CT codes. We have our own names.” He jabbed a finger at the silent radio. “Whoever that is knows nothing about clones. He’s not using proper channels, or code phrases, or even a damn name.”

Master Yoda Junior whined in his seat.

Rex realised he’d shouted. His chest heaved and the blood rushed in his ears. He gulped a breath.

“That’s not a clone trooper. That’s someone who wants to catch a real clone trooper.”

Mando nodded. “Alright. It’s a trap. So, avoid it.”

Rex scoffed. “Avoid it? Kriff that. I’m going.”

“What do you mean you’re going?”

“It’s not a trap unless there’s bait,” Rex said darkly. He checked the blaster at his hip was loaded. “Are you in or out, Mando?”

Mando trusted Rex. It probably had something to do with Rex almost sacrificing himself for the foundling. But he also knew something about bonds forged in battle. Rex knew Mando was in before he nodded.

“Then I guess I better suit up,” Rex grabbed his bag and descended to the fresher. Rex couldn’t keep all his armour with him. It was too bulky to carry everywhere and he sure as kriff didn’t want to wear it on the daily in a post-Empire galaxy. But he kept a few pieces.

The blue paint had almost faded from the pauldrons. Rex smoothed a thumb over the stripes. Honestly, he should find some new paint. But every chip and scrape had been earned in battle beside his brothers. He named each piece of armour in Mando’a as he fit them on. He fastened the haalas gaid over his chest and the gadi guards around his wrists. He wished he had his cetare boots, but he’d taken a blaster bolt through the ankle ages ago, damaging the boot beyond repair. Rex looked up at himself in the tiny fresher mirror. He looked like an old soldier, worn and weary with battle.

He pulled out the buy’ce last. The painted eyes on the helmet had not faded. The rows of tally marks, one for every battle, stood proudly against the white. Rex sighed. He pressed his forehead to the brow of the helmet in a keldabe[CS1]  for his fallen brothers.

Rex climbed back into the cockpit with his helmet under his arm. The Mandalorian stiffened.

“You wear Stormtrooper armour,” Mando noted, his voice deceptively calm.

“I wear clone armour,” Rex snapped. “It was ours first.”

Mando tipped his head the way he did when he didn’t understand. Rex huffed.

“I know about Mandalorians,” Rex said. “I know how you feel about your armour. It’s part of you. Seeing someone else wearing your armour would be like seeing someone wearing your skin. Clones are the same.” He pounded his chest plate with his fist. “We are our armour. Think how that feels.” His voice dropped to a hiss. “Think what it feels like to watch your brothers die and then to watch a whole army march around in their skins. Betraying everything we stood for. Everything we were made for.”

Mando bowed his head. “I meant no disrespect.”

“I know,” Rex said softly.

“Did no other clones survive?” Mando asked.

Rex shrugged helplessly. “I hope so. I’ve never met another since the Execution Order.” He sucked his teeth. “Probably I’m the last one. I truly don’t know. I ran, went into hiding with Commander Tano- Ahsoka,” he corrected.

Rex reminisced in the silence. He side-eyed Mando. “You’re not that young that you don’t remember the War?”

“Imperials killed my parents,” Mando said. “After that, I was raised in a strict Mandalorian sect. I had little contact and no interest with the outside world.”

Rex snorted. “You missed a few things.”

“I’m starting to get that,” Mando’s voice betrayed his smile.

Yoda the Younger babbled from his seat. He waved his clawed hands at Rex. Rex wondered again if the child shared memories with Master Yoda. Did he recognise Rex’s armour? Rex offered a hand. The child touched his claws to Rex’s wrist guards and traced the lines of blue paint.

Mando kept his helmet facing the ship’s controls, but Rex knew he watched out of the corner of his visor.

“Don’t give him anything you don’t want chewed on,” Mando advised. “I think he’s teething.”

Yoda Junior bit down on Rex’s gloved thumb. Rex barely resisted the reaction to rip his hand away. He gently extricated his fingers dripping with drool. The child’s wrinkled features twisted into a pout.

A few hours later, they dropped out of hysperspace. The distress call came from a space station. It disguised itself as a derelict, but a quick scan showed a dozen lifeforms and enough weapons to kill a planet.

“Wonder what they’re guarding?” Mando asked.

Rex smirked. “Let’s find out.”

Mando radioed in a distress call requesting emergency landing. The station management probably took one look at Mando’s junker on their screens and gave him permission to dock before he lost another heat shield.

Mando and Rex exited the ship with their blasters ready. Two woefully unprepared guards tried to draw their weapons. Mando and Rex shot one each. Rex scanned for more security. The hanger seemed empty.

“Get back on the ship.”

For a second Rex thought Mando was talking to him. He turned with a sharp retort on his tongue, until he noticed Mando wasn’t looking at him. Rex followed Mando’s line of sight. Baby Master Yoda toddled down the ship’s ramp. The tiny Jedi completely ignored his father and waddled over to grip Mando’s shin.

A sigh crackled through the helmet raised to heaven. “Fine. Stay quiet.”

Mando scooped the little one up and slung him into the pack hanging from Mando’s belt. Rex could only see the tips of little green ears. He shrugged and followed Mando out of the loading bay and into the heart of the space station.

Rex had served on Republic stations. They had order and fluidity to their construction. This Empire base was a nightmare. There seemed no rhyme or reason behind the set up. Rex was not an engineer or an architect, but surely the med bay and mess hall should be further apart to prevent the contamination of sick individuals and food sources.

They ran into guards in flimsy Imperial armour shouting chaotically around every corner. Mando dealt with them swiftly and brutally. Rex hardly needed to raise his blasters. By the time they made it to the correct lab, Rex was pretty sure the only lifeform left on the station was behind this door.

The door slid open to reveal a carbonite chamber. The hiss of pipes extinguished fog into the room. Through the smog, Rex could make out a single slab of carbonite leaning against the wall. He approached with his blaster at the ready.

The carbon fog parted. A gasp fell from Rex’s lips. He surged forward.

“Vod.” Rex reached up for the frozen planes of a face that looked exactly like his own. Rex searched the face for scars, or features to put a name to his brother. He couldn’t tell through the carbonite. The clone looked peaceful, like he’d simply fallen asleep. Rex had never seen a carbonite freeze without the rictus of pain. It sent a shiver down his spine.

“Do you know him?” Mando’s voice ripped through Rex’s clouded thoughts.

“I don’t know yet,” Rex grabbed the controls for the carbonite slab.

An alarm suddenly pierced the room. Mando flinched. A red light accompanied the blaring siren.

“That’s the intruder alert,” Rex said. He met Mando’s visor. “Somebody sent for backup.”

“I’ll deal with it.” The red light flashed over Mando’s helmet. He vanished into the swirl of fog.

Rex returned his attention to the carbonite controls. He started the unfreezing process.

The carbon melted away. Rex held his breath as if he were the one deprived of oxygen. The last of the crabon sloughed aside. The man inside took a shuddering breath.

The vod collapsed. Rex caught him around the shoulders. He lifted the man’s face.

“Wolffe?” Rex recognised the scar carved through his brother’s eye.

The clone’s forehead creased. He groaned. “Rex? What’s going on?”

“We’re getting out of here, brother,” Rex said. “Are you alright? Can you see?”

“I still got one working eye,” Wolffe touched the cybernetic implant.

Rex slung Wolffe’s arm over his shoulder and put one foot in front of the other. Carbon sickness sent tremors through Wolffe that Rex could feel racking his body.

Wolffe’s feet scrabbled for purchase on the ground. He gradually gained his bearings. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you, obviously.”

“You stupid di’kut,” Wolffe growled. “Can’t you remember your dadita?”

Rex paused. He hadn’t thought of the numerical military code in years. Not since the Clone Wars. “What do you mean?”

Wolffe huffed. “CT-5097? 5097 is a trap, you idiot.”

“No kidding,” Rex resumed dragging Wolffe towards the lab doors. “But did you really think I’d leave you here?”

The doors suddenly swished open. Rex had his blaster up and ready in an instant. The fog parted. Mando stood silhouetted in the doorway.

Rex lowered the blaster. “Kriff, I could have killed you.”

“I lost Grogu,” Mando answered.

“What the kriff is a Grogu?” Wolffe groaned.

“His foundling,” Rex said. “What do you mean, you lost him?”

Mando shrugged. “He does that sometimes.”

Rex rolled his eyes to the ceiling and thanked the Maker for his helmet. “Where did you lose him?”

Mando didn’t respond. “I need you to help me find him.”

“Fine. Split up?”

Mando nodded and slid back into the shadows.

“I’m not hallucinating, right?” Wollfe asked. “That was a Mandalorian?”

“Yeah,” Rex trudged forward. “A kriffing stupid one.”

They left the lab behind and began making their way through the illogical corridors again. Wolffe hung off Rex’s arm, still too weak to walk on his own.

Now, how to find a baby Jedi. All of Rex’s experience with Master Yoda the Elder revolved around riddles wrapped in backwards phrases and a cane that would massacre ankles at every opportunity. That wouldn’t help at all. Rex’s Jedis had all been recklessly dangerous kriffers with a penchant for pulling victories out of thin air. If Rex had a cliff to throw himself off of, he was sure the baby Jedi would come running. But no cliffs presented themselves on the starship. So, what else did Jedi like? Lightsabers, senators, killing droids, and cloaks that reached the ground all came to mind. Still not helpful. What did Rex know of Yoda Junior specifically?

It hit Rex like a lightning bolt. Food. The little one was always hungry. Rex changed course and headed back towards the mess hall they’d initially passed.

They stepped over the body Mando had left sprawled in front of the cafeteria door. The glaring white lights illuminated industrial grey tables and a buffet style offering of food selections at the other end of the room.

Rex leaned Wolffe against the door. “Watch my six.”

Wolffe lifted a limp hand in a salute.

Rex approached the trays of food. He whispered. “Grogu?”

A chirp came from one of the steaming pans. A green ear poked over the edge. The kid sat in a plate what looked like meat rations. Crumbs and sauce smeared his chubby face and dribbled down his clothes.

“You’re going to give your dad a heart attack one of these days,” Rex told him. The baby twitched his great big ears and munched on another stick of meat.

Rex picked up the kid. Predictably, the child whined and reached for the food he’d left behind.

“We got to go,” Rex told him.

A proximity alarm blared, warning about a ship approaching.

Rex raced back to Wolffe.

“I told you it was a trap!” Wolffe snapped.

“You’re very smart, shut up.” Rex slung Wolffe’s arm over his shoulder again and hurried the three of them down the corridor towards Mando’s ship.

Mando came running around the corner. “Did you find him?”

Rex passed Yoda Junior to his father. Mando cradled the baby close. He wiped some of the mess on Yoda the Younger’s face with the edge of his cloak. “What did you get all over yourself?”

“Barbeque sauce,” Rex responded deadpan.

Mando sighed. “Alright, let’s go.”

They loaded onto the junk ship.

“What a piece of crap,” Wolffe muttered.

“You want to go back?” Rex asked.

“It’s a nice piece of crap,” Wolffe cocked him a mischievous grin.

“Buckle up,” Mando yelled from the cockpit. Rex shoved Wolffe up the ladder and followed. Wolffe fell into the co-pilot’s seat. His fingers fumbled on the harness. Rex swatted his hands aside and did the fastenings himself.

They shot away from the station. Mando hovered in space with the station filling the viewscreen. Rex gripped his armrests, waiting for the jolt of hyperspace. The seconds dragged out. Mando sat perfectly still.

Rex cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t we-?”

Three Imperial ships dropped out of hyperspace on the other side of the station. Mando slapped the controls and their view melted into the rays of starlight shooting by at faster than light speeds.

“What was that?” Rex demanded. “You let them see us.”

“And now we know who we’re dealing with,” Mando replied.

“You’re crazy as a bantha, you know that?” Wolffe piped up.

“It’s been said.” Mando shoved back from the pilot’s seat and headed down the ladder. “Make yourself comfortable. It’s a long ride.”

Rex stood and approached Wolffe. He laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Wolffe shook his head. “They didn’t care to hurt me. They just wanted me to send that message.”

“Why exactly did they want a clone trooper to broadcast into deep space anyways?” Rex asked.

“Because of you,” Wolffe skewered Rex with his single natural eye. “Even the Imps know you run with Commander Tano. They wanted to draw you both out.”

Rex sighed. He ran a hand over his short hair. “I’m sorry, brother.”

Wolffe laughed a choked sound. “You need to let go of that commander complex you have, Rex. I’m not your responsibility anymore.”

“Of course, you are,” Rex squeezed Wolffe’s shoulder. “You’re my brother, no matter what.”

A cooing noise drew Rex’s attention. Yoda the Second sat at his feet, making grabby hands. Rex lifted the kid into his lap.

Wolffe stared open mouthed at the child. “Is that a baby Yoda?”

“Thank Maker you see it too.”

End

[eat0crow]

Maribat prompt - Bruce adopts Marinette please? (Sorry if I misunderstood and this is what you did Not want. If that's the case just ignore this, sorry)

Nope, you didn’t misunderstand at all Anon! I hope you don’t mind a bit of humor, I had a really shitty night-so many customers decided to yell at me it’s not even funny. I needed something lighthearted.

Beta read by some lovely people on the Maribat Discord server.

Who Needs Paperwork?

Bruce is done. So painfully done, that the only one who can’t see just how thin a line he’s walking is the source of his annoyance. Hal Jordan, the very man who makes homicide look more appealing every day. Did Bruce really need a moral code?

It just seemed to get in the way.

From behind him doors slam, people scatter, and yet Hal won’t catch the hint. “All I’m saying is that, isn’t it time you guys settled down, and had a whole flock of little birdies?”

Bruce has never, not once in his life, desired friends. He hadn’t wanted a relationship either, yet here he is, six months into a decades in the making relationship with Clark Kent. If Bruce had known that the League would take his relationship as a sign of him getting soft, he would have sworn Clark to secrecy.

“I’m going to the training room.” Which should have roughly translated to 'follow me, and I’ll use you for target practice'. Several people within hearing distance shudder at the implication. Bruce is darkly satisfied; he hasn’t seen this much fear directed at him in months. Hal Jordan, well Bruce has theories on how green lantern cores affect intelligence.

None of them are particularly positive.

“It’s never too early to start working on your ninja kid army,” Hal says lightly, as if he’s talking about the weather, and not something as morally bankrupt as child soldiers. Sure he trained Robin young, but it’s not like Bruce had a choice. Dick would have been fighting mob bosses with or without his consent. Training had been the only thing keeping him out of even more danger. “Who’s going to carry on your terrifying legacy?”

“I already have Robin.” And because Bruce can see Hal’s next sentence before he even says it— “And Clark has Conner. Aside from procreation being wholly unnecessary, it’s also physically impossible. You are aware that it requires a woman to produce off-spring, right?”

“Yeah, tell that to LexCorp,” Hal mumbles under his breath. Bruce would be lying if he said he hadn’t ever wondered about that. Sure Conner’s a clone, but he’s also the most stable clone Bruce had ever seen. He wouldn’t put it past Luthor to have spliced in a secondary set of DNA. “Just think about it Spooky. Combine your brains with Clark’s powers and bam! You’ve got the one person on earth who could defeat Doomsday without breaking a sweat. Isn’t that a better tomorrow?”

Bruce stops, because things make a lot more sense now. Doomsday had been terrifying, he opened up a whole world of possibilities. Of threats too strong for the League to deal with, just waiting. There’s no escaping this conversation. Even if he tunes it out now, Hal will just bring it up again and again, until Clark finally catches on. That will make the man pout.

Bruce really doesn’t like it when Clark pouts.

He might not have the patience to deal with Hal’s solution to apocalypse inducing threats now, but he’ll have even less later when Barry no doubt joins Hal’s crusade. One idiot is bad enough. Bruce is not willing to explain to Dick why he killed his best friend's uncle.

“That’s why the Young Justice League was formed,” Bruce points out slowly, his voice careful, like he’s explaining the concept to a toddler. Hal probably has an I.Q that stalled around the fifth grade, so same difference. “Their role is to carry on our legacies in protecting earth after we’re unable.”

“That’s not what I mean! Sure, by the time they graduate out of the little leagues they’ll be ready to take over, but that’s just it. They’re a miniature Justice League. They’ll have the exact same blind spots as us. I’m talking about combining skill sets here.”

Bruce actually hadn’t thought of that, and as much as the words choke him to admit, Hal is right. They would be subject to the exact same failings as the current League. They’re a group trained to take over specific positions. They’ve been trained for years and no one, not even Robin, would be able to break close to half a decades worth of habits.

They make it to the training room, and a flash of vivid, bright red catches his eye. The newest member, Ladybug is talking to Clark. Bruce hadn’t been aware that he would be joining him for this training session, but it all works out nicely.

Ladybug looks worn, and Bruce doesn’t doubt she is. The girl is Diana’s apprentice, not sidekick. They've both been adamant about that. No one, not even Diana, knows her identity. Bruce could respect a healthy dose of secrecy, but she’s only around Dick’s age. The information on her is scarce, and Diana is tight-lipped. Partially out of ignorance and partially out of some vague magical pact her mother made.

A combined skillset.

Ladybug doesn't have years of habits to break. If her own admissions are anything to go by, she doesn’t have any formal training outside of noncombatant magic. She’s dangerously smart too. Bruce has seen her improvise enough times. Sure, she might not have as much super-strength as Clark, but Bruce has seen her lift far more than her frame should allow. Maybe strength proportional to a ladybug’s? Her skin is certainly reinforced by what has to be the tensile strength of an exoskeleton.

Which is glossing over her ability to create solid matter through pure will—maybe he'll have Hal train her a bit, her powers are similar enough to a Green Lanterns’.

“You have a point, Lantern.”

There’s a suspicious pause. “I do?”

Bruce offers him his most deadpan expression. So even Hal knows that ninety percent of what leaves his mouth is garbage, good to know. “The League will be comprised of individuals with the same failings as current Leaguers. In the event of world-ending threats, we can not afford these failings. So I will be taking your advice.”

“Oh, that’s...good.” Hal looks perplexed, like he hadn’t expected his argument to land him anywhere but in a body cast.

“However,” Bruce continues, walking over toward Clark and Ladybug. “I have no interest in experimental science that’s no doubt illegal in numerous countries. So, we’ll be adopting.”

“We will!” Clark shrieks from his left.

Everyone else in the room gasps. Bruce ignores them, reaching out instead to grab Ladybug. “She’ll be the perfect candidate.”

"Bruce," Clark whines. "That's not how adoption works. You've skipped so many steps."

Bruce sends him a pointed look, the one that says play along or you're sleeping on the couch. Clearly, Clark gets the message because he shuts up. The look on his face also implies that Bruce is going to be out in the dog house for this stunt, but he chooses to ignore it anyway.

So what if Alfred likes Clark more. Bruce still owns the house.

Ladybug, to her credit, only blinks.

Wide blue eyes stare at him, she looks eerily similar to Dick and Conner. They all share the same coloring: black hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. She has Dick’s delicate bone structure, Bruce could probably pass the two of them off as twins.

Dick is going to be roped into teaching her some actual acrobatics as soon as possible. Would a grappling hook be an appropriate ‘welcome to the family’ gift? Bruce doesn't trust her yo-yo.

A beat passes. “I already have parents.”

“Not superhero parents.”

[softwareandclonedevelopment]

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[unlucky-rubber-ducky]

Attachment

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

1,252 words

Summary: Fluff. Really, guys, it’s always gonna be fluff. Mentions of a battle.

A/N: I would first of all like to apologize to anyone who has any skill at titling things, as this is an insult. I suck at titles. Without further adieu.

————————————————————————————————————————

Obi-Wan had never been spontaneous, per say, but whatever spontaneity he had died the day he became responsible for not just himself, but a powerful young boy as well. He had grown from sneaking around (or even out of) the temple in the middle of the night with other padawans to catching sneaky padawans.

You, it seemed, were the exact opposite.

You had always been on the fringes of his life, though it was only after Anakin had attached to you as another parental figure that Obi-Wan had the chance to actually get to know you. He had always remembered you as more of a stickler to the rules than even he, though he figured you would have to be rather uptight to be Master Windu’s padawan.

You were often left out of the other Padawan’s mischief, though, Obi-Wan noted, they never turned us in. While you were much happier following the rules, there was no denying you were at least trustworthy. You went through your trials just a few months after Qui-Gon’s death, and began hanging around Obi-Wan to prepare for (and occasionally help with) training a padawan.

It was about a decade later, and you had entirely shifted. Whether that was due to Anakin’s influence, or a coping mechanism for the war was a point of contention between Obi-Wan and Anakin. Ahsoka quickly decided it didn’t matter, as you were the only one aside from Anakin who understood her appreciation for pranks, and so were the perfect partner when she wanted to mess with her master.

“Obi-Wan!” A soft whisper.

It was as if you had known Obi-Wan was thinking about you, which honestly wouldn’t be hard to believe. You had made a habit of keeping him company the night after an especially tough battle, whether that be sticking close to his side as the clones rowdily celebrated around you, or quietly laying together on whatever sort of bedding that had lasted through blaster-fire, he found great comfort in your understanding presence.

“You’re a bit later than usual, my dear.”

“Mm, I was looking for something! Come on, I wanna show you!”

Your head was in view from where he was laying now- the usual bright quality to your eyes was dampened by the earlier violence, but your giddy attitude would never indicate a difficult day. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the smile you brought to his face.

He purposefully moved slowly- watching you bounce on your heels and pout in impatience was more entertaining than he would like to admit. Once he was finally stood up, rather than have him tease you by walking slowly, you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of his tent and away from the camp.

“Darling, this hardly feels very safe.“

“Live a little, Obi! I scouted the area out earlier-“

“By yourself?!”

You looked back at him with a grin that definitely didn’t make his breath stutter.

“All by my lonesome.” You had slowed your pace once you couldn’t see the camp anymore, and linked your elbow through your companions. “It was perfectly safe, I told Anakin I was going out.”

“You should have told me.”

You waved your hand, dismissing the idea as ridiculous.

“It was a surprise.”

“What was a surprise?”

“Patience is the Jedi way, Master Kenobi.”

He snorted.

“You’re one to lecture me on patience, little one.”

Your head whipped to meet his eyes, and an innocent smile met a playful glare.

“I’m not little, Obi-Wan!”

“I beg to differ.”

“You’re short too!”

“But I’m taller than you!” His singsong tone put a smile on your face, but you were quick to look at the ground.

The rest of your walk was quiet, aside from the crunch of your boots on the grass, and the noises of the forest you were surrounded by. It was many different shades of red, and shimmered during the day. It was a lovely outer rim planet, and you couldn’t help but be saddened at the violence it had to witness before it even developed any of its own sentient life.

Having been there only a few hours earlier, it was easy for you to find what you were looking for. (The thunderous roar wasn’t hard to hear, either.)

“Close your eyes.”

“And why would I-“ Obi-Wan turned to you, who had anticipated his apprehension, and had already turned on the puppy-dog eyes. He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. “Fine.”

He trusted you to lead him along a safe path, and listened as the roar, of what he assumed to be water, became louder. He felt a breeze across his face, and felt your arm tighten around his as you stopped.

“Open!”

It was… stunning. You had led him to a little clearing in the forest. A dizzyingly tall cliff dropped off a few feet from where he stood, and he could see the moonlight shimmer off of the trees hundreds of feet below. The source of the loud noise was revealed to be a waterfall, whose river was flowing from a little ways across the clearing. Obi-Wan was speechless for a moment, and just a little relieved he wasn’t entirely jaded to the beauty the galaxy had to offer.

“That is quite the sight to behold, my dear.”

“I knew you’d like it! Me and Rex were out here a few days ago, just checking things out, and we stumbled across this place and I just knew you’d love it and I wanted to show you before we left and isn’t it just beautiful?” You had to take a breath after your tangent, your face a little warm at the explanation Obi-Wan didn’t really need.

“It is.” If your face was warm before, it was on fire when you turned to him and saw he was looking at you, rather than the scenery. To distract from the moment he had just created, Obi-Wan held out his hand to you. “I’ve always wanted to dance in the moonlight.”

You giggled and took his hand, smiling even bigger as he pulled you to his chest and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“How could I turn down an offer like that?”

You spun around the little clearing for what felt like an eternity, squealing when he dipped you unexpectedly. When you came back up your faces were much closer than before, and before either of you could back out, your lips were pressed together. (Future debates would argue who made the first move, but that hardly mattered to either of you in the moment.)

When you pulled back, your face was the shyest he had seen it since you had been nothing more to him than Master Windu’s padawan.

“Sorry, I promise I didn’t bring you out here just to seduce you.”

“I wouldn’t complain if you had.”

Your eyes, which had wandered down to his chest, snapped back to meet his in an instant.

“...What does that mean?”

“I care for you. More than the code allows. I am… attached, for lack of a better word.”

“I’m attached too.” Obi-Wan tentatively pulled you in for another kiss, leaving you space to back out if you wanted to. “Are you sure, Obi? This is, like, have your rank stripped if they find out at best kind of territory.”

His hands moved from around your waist to cup your face, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“I am all too willing to try, dear one.”

“So am I.”

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading!

[loridrabbles]

Mercy | Echo x Jedi!Reader

Warnings: Angsty as hell, sad as fuck. Blood and violence.

     (Y/n) couldn’t remember a time when her heart didn’t flutter when thinking about Echo. As a Jedi, of course, she wasn’t supposed to have these feelings, but her late Master Qui-Gon reminded her that feelings could be healthy and controlled. During her first few missions with the 501st, all she could do was stare at him across the room. As soon as her eyes would cross his, she’d look away or pretend she was looking at something behind him. She didn’t know it, but whenever his helmet was covering his face, he’d be staring just the same. 

     She expected her heart to jump to her chest when he decided to talk to her alone one day, but after meditating on Qui-Gon’s teaching for hours upon hours, she restrained herself. Yes, her heart was pounding and her breathing was quick and heavy, but she wasn’t distracted.

       "I know I shouldn’t be talking to you alone like this,“ Echo said to her one day after everyone else had left the meeting room. “And it’s against every regulation, but the books never said there’s anything wrong with flirting.”

      “Do the books say anything about a top-secret briefing with a Jedi Commander?” She asked, gazing into his eyes, twirling a piece of her (h/c) hair around her finger.

     "I don’t believe they do.“ He said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "And where would this meeting take place?”

     "In a private study room in the library as the base of the Jedi temple. The one that’s open to the public. I could really use some help understanding a few…“ She placed her hand on his cheek and ran her finger down his face to trace his jawline. "Protocols…" 

     "I’ll make sure to bring my manuals.” He purred.

     That’s one thing she always loved about him. He knew right from wrong and the risks of disobeying what had been put in place, but knew how to work his way around things that were unnecessarily ridiculous. She also knew he would never let her take things too far unless she really wanted to.  If she’d ask him to do something that would for sure get her kicked out of The Order, he wouldn’t let her unless she had been begging for weeks.

     "I know the consequences.“ She panted, straddling him as he sat on a cushion on the floor of the library where they met several times a week. Her fingers danced around the plating of his armor, trying to remove any piece she could. "Please…no one will know.”

     "You’ll be in serious trouble, my dear.“ He said cupping her face in his hands.

     "I’ll leave.” She said, turning her head to kiss the palm of his hand. “I just want to be with you.”

     "And make me a deserter? I couldn’t.“ He said. She brought her lips to his, giving him a quick peck on the lips, before resting her forehead against his.

     "Is there anything in the book about a classified stealth mission, where both the Commander and her Corporal lose their lives?”

     "Yes, it’s called a level 4 recovery mission that wouldn’t stop till they found our bodies.“ He snickered playfully, kissing her cheek.

     "I hate your books.” She said, leaning into him, her arms around him.

     He took a deep breath and closed, enjoying the closeness and placed kisses on her temple as he ran his fingers through her hair. His eyes opened when he heard a snap.

     "Haha! Got it!.“ She said victoriously as she removed his pauldron.

     "Hey!” He said, watching as she tossed it to the side. “You know how much trouble you’ll get in to. I know you want this, but-”

     "I do want this.“ She leaned forward, kissing him again.

     "But, you’re not thinking with your head right now.” He said, trailing his hand from her shoulder to her stomach. He moved forward to sit up, sliding her off his lap, and stood. He reached for his pauldron and returned it to its rightful spot over his shoulder.

     "Echo.“ She whined, standing up as well. He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her gently.

     "Think about it.” He said.

     "But I have th-“

     "Meditate on it.” He cut her off, his voice strict, but soft. “Give it some time. I don’t want you to make a decision before you’re ready to deal with the consequences. I’ve got to get going." 

     "Ok…” She said, disappointed, but glad he was looking out for her wellbeing.

     "I love you.“ He said, looking over his shoulder as he stood at the door.

     "I love you too.” She smiled.

     She had done as he asked and meditated on it for a while, thinking about what Qui-Gon would tell her to do in the situation. He didn’t think intimacy should be against the Jedi code, but just like feelings, it should be enjoyed in controlled moderation. She was glad she waited. Assisting a stressed-out soldier in her meditation room for one-on-one learning made for a much more romantic time than the floor of the library.

     She wasn’t supposed to join the 501st and 212th on their mission to the Citadel, but when Master Plo pulled her aside and asked her to go to keep an eye on Ahsoka, she happily joined. She had always been able to cope with loss before. It was difficult, but over the years, it became easier and easier. Her heart wrenched every time a clone fell beside her, but she no longer froze in place and learned to grieve later.

     No amount of meditation or experience could have prepared her for watching her dearest Echo turned to ash and bone in a fiery blaze before her. It had been years since she froze, but her legs were iron and weights of grief were shackled around her waist. She could hear Fives and Rex screaming for her to move, but it wasn’t until one of them grabbed her by her wrist and dragged her that came to her senses and ran. 

     She’d never felt this sort of bereavement before. She felt empty and numb and the world around her was dull. Getting out of bed in the morning was pointless, but it had to be done. It took her a great amount of effort to swing her legs over the edge of the bed. Feeling the cold floor on her feet sent the shock through her system that she needed to snap out of it and join the others. This went on for months. One day, she just couldn’t take the first step to move forward so she sat there, motionless, on the edge of her bed. No one ever knocked on her door, so when she heard a rhythmic rapping, it sparked her interest.

     "Who is it? Come in.“ She called, still unmoving.

     "Commander (Y/n).” It was Rex, panting, a bead of sweat on his brow. 

     "Rex? What is it? Calm down.“ She said, getting up and grabbing him by the wrist, placing a hand on his heaving chest. She led him to a seat and waited for him to talk.

     "Echo…I know you are going to think I’m insane. Cody did, but you have to believe me.” He tried to catch his breath. “The algorithm Echo and I came up with. The separatists are using it and…I thought maybe there was a chance he could be alive." 

     She scowled.

     "Stop it, Rex.” She said, dropping his hand from hers.

     "No. Listen.“ He said. "I didn’t even believe it myself, but-”

     "I said enough! He’s gone!“ She said, on the verge of tears.

     "I…I’m sorry, Commander.” He said, his voice calm and quiet. “But…please allow me to finish.”

     She crossed her arms, scowl still across her face as she stared at the floor. She ground her teeth as she heard him sigh.

     "He told me how close you were.“ He said quietly. 

     "He did?” She asked, her face softening.

     "Yes. We told each other everything.“ He said. "Will you please let me finish?”

     "Go ahead.“ She whispered after her voice hitched in her throat.

     "I myself didn’t believe he could be alive, but after our raid on a separatists base, I know he is. I heard him speak. I know it was him.”

     "H-how do you…“

     "I don’t know, but we’re headed to the source of the signal now. Please come with us.” He begged. She looked at him for a short moment, thinking it over and nodded.

     ”(Y/n), get in here!“ Rex called. She looked in the direction of his voice as she continued to deflect blaster bolts with her lightsaber.

     "Go on, commander. We’ve got this.” Wrecker said. (Y/n) jogged to the room and shut the door behind her. 

     Rex knelt on the floor beside Echo. He was thin, pale, hooked up to all sorts of sensors and machinery. He spasmed and twitched as Rex tried to communicate with him. He mumbled incoherently and his eyes looked empty and soulless. (Y/n) rushed to him, kneeling beside him placing a hand on his cheek, warming his skin with her touch. 

     "Echo.“ She whispered, tears pricking her eyes.

     "Tech, how is he?” Rex asked, standing up.

     "He’s…not all there.“ He said solemnly. He pointed to his datapad. “You can see here what’s been done to his brain. It’s like he’s only able to function properly if a certain signal is transmitted from the control center. He’s awake and conscious of what’s happening around him, but he can’t react to it. I can’t imagine the pain…and agony.” He said.

     "Is there anything we can do?“ (Y/n) asked, holding his trembling hand.

     "Unfortunately, no.” He said, shaking his head. “If we disconnect him he’ll die. But it’ll be slow…and horrible. We could quickly reprogram him somewhat, but he’ll never be the same. I’ll go and help the others. I’ll leave you two to decide what we’re going to do.”

     "Ok, Tech.“ Rex said. "Thank you.”

     Rex turned back to (Y/n) who had her arms wrapped tightly around the frail shadow of her lover, sobbing over his shoulder.

     "I’m so sorry, love.“ She cried, caressing his cheek, looking into his empty eyes. Looking for something, anything. She spoke through her sniffles and hiccups. "I should have sensed you were ok. I shouldn’t have left you behind. Please, I know you’re in there. Just talk to me. Give me anything.”

     She cried, placing a kiss on his lips, then several all over his face.

     ”(Y/n).“ She heard him whisper. She looked at him, hopefully. For a moment, he stopped trembling, his breathing slowed, and the color returned to his eyes. 

     "Yes. It’s me, love. I’m here.” She cried, placing another kiss on this lips, this time, getting a little something back. She rested her head against his forehead, listening for the faintest whisper.

     "Please…“ Echo struggled to speak. “E…end it…end.” He gasped. “The citadel. We have to get out of the Citadel. The shuttle…it’s.”

     And just like that, he was gone again. She cried, hugging him close to her, his head nuzzled into her chest.

     ”(Y/n)?“ Rex spoke softly. She turned her head to face him, blinking away some tears. She looked at his hip, then up at him, holding out her hand. He removed his blaster from the holster and placed it in her outstretched hand.

     "I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.” She said. 

     "It’s ok, (Y/n).“ He said, placing a hand on her shoulder, kneeling down to kiss the top of her head, then Echo’s cheek. He tried to keep his voice from shaking and was successful, but couldn’t keep the tears from falling down his face. “It’s what’s best.” He stood and took a step back, looking straight ahead, his eyes fixated on the empty chamber, unable to watch.

     "I’m so sorry, Echo. I love you so much.“ She said, giving him one last kiss on the top of his head as she brought the blaster to his temple. She squeezed her eyes shut, as she pulled the trigger. The sound rang loudly in her ears as he slumped against her chest. When the ringing faded, the room was quiet. Rex silently walked to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

     "We should go.” He said. She stood, laying Echo out on the floor, the necklace he had given her clutched in his left hand as it lay on his chest. She tore a small piece of fabric from her cloak, brought it to her lips and kissed it, before covering his face with it. 

     "I love you.“ She whispered one last time as she stood to leave with Rex. As they stepped through the door, he gave her hand a squeeze.

      The ride on the transport was rowdy as usual with the bat batch aboard, but Rex and (Y/n) sat silently side by side. (Y/n) fiddled with her fingers and Rex sat with his elbows on his knees, hands folded in front of him.

     "Did I do the right thing?” She said. Rex took a deep, quiet breath and looked at her.

     "I would have done the same.“ He said, taking one of her hands. "I’m sorry you had to make that decision, (y/n).”

     "I couldn’t leave him in the hands of those bastards.“ She said.

     The two of them were silent for a moment.

     "I could feel it.” She said. “Like he was trying to tell me it was ok. Like…like he wanted me to…” She couldn’t help but start sobbing uncontrollably. “Did I do the right thing! Tell me I did the right thing, Rex! Please!" 

     Rex put his arm around her, pulling her close, shushing her gently.

     "You did the right thing, (y/n).” Rex tried his best to calm her down, but her erratic screaming and crying alerted the attention of the rest of the ship. As she looked down to her lap, she noticed the crimson red stains covering her chest and the spatters on her arms. “Get it off me!” She screamed. “It…it’s not my blood! It’s not my blood!”

     Tech stepped forward, a daunting looking needle in his hand and injected whatever it was into her neck. She slumped over onto Rex and her crying and panting became slow, steady breaths.

     "That should help her calm down.“ He said. "I…can’t imagine what she’s feeling right now, but she’ll be ok. Why don’t we all head to the front of the ship and give her some quiet time.”

     Rex stood, gently positioning her to lay on the bench as he walked to the door. Crosshair stood there, staring at (y/n) with a blank face, then to Rex. Remembering his comments, Rex furrowed his brow, upper lip raising ever so slightly.

     "What?“ He asked, almost spitting out his words. Crosshair sighed and looked back to (y/n).

     "I’m sorry.” He said putting a hand on his shoulder. “About everything.”

     "Thank you.“ Rex said, after a bit of silence. 

     "I’ll…make sure to apologize to her too when she comes around." 

     "Give it a few days.” Rex said. “But, I think she’d like to hear it and she’ll need all the support she can get.”

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