#Perhaps he should take to eating in a different area of Kamino

[wwheeljack]

Crosshair attempts to eat his lunch in peace.

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt 7)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter four Chapter five

Chapter Six

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and betrothed are asses.

Chapter Seven: The The Havoc Marauder “How did you get out of the brig?” Tech asks you the second you're out of earshot of the captain. He looks judgemental and curious, and you’re not sure you want to tell him just how you managed to escape the cell. You still do not trust them. “I got the door open.” You tell him looking around, from here the ship looks quite small, the deck isn't all too long nor is it wide, and from the captains quarters looking to the front of the vessel you can appreciate the sleeknes of the ship.

“How did you get the door open?” Tech suppresses an eye roll and you simply shrug. More interested in Crosshair in the crows nest and Wrecker hauling different sails up and down. “None of you look that much alike.” You think aloud, marveling at the first clones you’ve ever met. “We are enhanced clones.” Tech states, and you nod. That makes sense given it seems they all have vastly different personalities. You see Hunter emerge from his quarters with a frown, looking for a situation report as well as an estimated time to Alderaan. “And the captain?” You turn to Tech who is squinting through his goggles at Hunter. “He never used to be this…” Tech starts mid thought before prematurely ending his sentence to stomp over and chastise Wrecker for the sail ties. Leaving you without the promised tour of the ship and very little knowledge on what you should do with yourself in the meantime. You briefly think about exploring yourself but decide to not push your luck. “If you’re not going to help, the least you could do is stand out of our way.” A gruff voice says from behind you, making you jump, how the captain snuck behind you unnoticed is a mystery. “What would you like me to do?” You ask, hoping to be helpful and ease his wrath. His stare to you is unnerving like he is analyzing your abilities. “Go find Gonk, and see what you can make of her.” He says before stepping past you - or rather, barging by so that you leap yourself into the wall just to get out of his way. “Who’s Gonk?” You shout after him and as he turns to answer Wrecker steps in. “You’ll love her!” he exclaims, and you realize his eye patch for the first time, and the pink scarred skin that crawls into the left side of his face like a spider's web. “Follow me, little miss!” He says crossing the deck and watching your awe when you see how high up Crosshair really is in the crows nest and your smile as he wrestles with Tech who's trying to communicate with him on the ground. “What’s your name lil’ miss?” Wrecker asks, pulling you away from the marvel, much to the delight of your neck as it relaxes from the extreme angle. You give your full name and watch as he shakes his head. “I meant like your nickname, what do you like to be called?” He corrects pushing a small door open ever so slightly. You pause, you don’t really have a nickname or a short form you like. “I guess I do not have one…” you trail off, “Tech said Aaray earlier, but i have a feeling it isn’t exactly a compliment.” You press one hand into the other, a disgusting nervous habit that your father tried to rid you of. Claiming the popping sounds were unlady-like and barbaric. “I think it suits you.” Wrecker exclaims with a laugh, but quells it when he sees your distressed face. “In a good way I mean, it’s a funny nickname for you Little Miss.” “And accurate…” Crosshair comments as he goes by up the stairs you and Wrecker are currently under in order to get to the small door. “What does it mean?” you ask, thankful that the breeze has let up thanks to the alcove. And it is much less bright down here, you can actually look at Wrecker without squinting. “WRECKER!” Someone screams above you, and raises your eyebrows at the sound, which is followed immediately by a laugh from your tall companion, before he turns away and dashes up the stairs, making a thunderous sound above you. Marvelling at having been forgotten a second time, you realise that these clones- or rather men, are probably not used to company. But rather than waiting for someone to find you, you decide to push

the door open. The end of your dress is fraying, the sleeves pushed up to give you more mobility, and the sight of your hand against the oak makes you want to laugh. Your father would be mortified to see you in this state, and that thought alone allows contentment to settle in your stomach. “Gonk?” You ask, pushing the door open all the way. This room is small, the smallest you’ve seen on the ship, with no windows and the only door being the one you currently stand in. The far corner opposite that of you, sits a GNK droid, it’s legs torn apart and panels missing from what would've been its front facing port. And as you venture further in, you can hear that the droid is still humming away, still trying to generate power. Behind you the door swings shut. And in the time it takes you to turn and react to the swoosh noise, and then back to the droid a pair of eyes, mismatched in colour, appear in the darkness. You freeze staring into the little beads of colour, one Purple and one blue, they blink at you. Before disappearing again back into the droid. And through the rummaging and eating sounds, you can guess where it went. Tiptoeing back to the door, you open it again looking for something to brace it on before the creature gets away. Grumbling when you don't see anything, you unlace one of your boots and wedge it between the door and the wall, before awkwardly stepping your way back to the GNK droid. This time when the eyes appear you see the small creature's face. Mismatched white and black fur that covers its body in patches, leaving some areas bare to the world. With paws ending in claws makes you think it could be some sort of Loth cat. But as it scurries up the wall you see it’s side orientated legs, long tail, lack of ears, and most shocking of all wings. Your gasp must startle it because the next thing you know it’s leaping towards you as you let out an undignified shriek. You feel its feet on your face as it crawls up to nestle in your hair, further disturbing the fancy updo you once had. “Wrecker!” You call into the darkness, thinking about how you ended up in this predicament, one boot missing and an unknown creature in your hair. When no one answers your call, you decide to become a lot less lady-like. “WRECKER!” You shout, which disrupts the animal and causes it to crawl and sit on the small of your back. The door opens to reveal a surprised clone, probably not expecting your voice to reach such levels. And as one eyebrow raises at you when you spin to face him. “What is it, Little Miss?” He asks, and you gingerly turn around to show him your new companion. “Oh, uh… TECH.” He shouts, deciding fairly quickly that this was not within his abilities to deal with. You turn your head to give him the side eye of disapproval, before Tech, holopad in hand greets you at the doorway. “Oh.” He echoes his older brother, “this is an interesting development.” He comments on venturing into the room. ��I would beg to differ.” you counter. Tensing again as it moves from you back and up into the wisps of hair at your neck. “It appears to enjoy your body heat.” He adds as it begins to nuzzle into the space where your neck and shoulder scrunch in panic. “It was in the droid.” you tell him putting emphasis on ‘in’ and how you do not want to join in with that. “Must be a relative of the Ordo Moon Dragon, except this species seems much smaller, and descends explicitly from its older feathered relatives.” “That doesn’t exactly solve my current predicament.” You murmur to yourself, turning your head further away from the speckled thing. And it makes a small noise in disapproval as it can no longer burrow into your neck. It’s a kind of ‘puurrrrl’ sound, with rolling ‘r’s and a curious emphasis on the end of the sound. And its tail brushes your cheek as it turns to face tech. Before leaping over to him and landing on his HUD portion of his goggles. You turn around freely now, watching as it begins gnawing on the HUD and licking at the glass with its translucent tongue. “As I suspected.” Tech declares unphased, “it feeds on

energy. Hence the fate of the GNK droid.” “Haha!” Wrecker chuckles, “that's why we call er’ Gonk.” “It’s not dangerous, scans say its an Alach moon dragon, similar to a Kashyyykian Gecko.” You look at him skeptically. “It’s got fur.” You comment, having poured over natural encyclopedias long enough to know that most reptiles are not, in fact, furred. “Small feathers to be exact.” Tech corrects, “perhaps a result of our run from Kamino to Geonosis…” Tech thinks aloud, reaching up to carefully remove the creature from his goggles and place it back into your hands. “What does that mean?” You enquire staring at the mini-dragon a little less scared now. “We did a supply run of genect-” “The lady doesn't need to know about that Wrecker.” Tech hisses, “have manners.”he says with a glare, you hear a muffled apology before deciding to cut in. “The lady is also tired of her own lack of knowledge.” You add, wanting to giggle at how improper you’re being, feeling like a little kid sneaking too many sweets before a meal. You smile wholeheartedly when Wrecker’s face lights up. “The Genosians have underground fighting rings that the kaminoans provide spliced animals for. Mismatched creatures to battle each other for entertainment.” Crosshair says, toeing his big brothers to the side as he catches the tail end of your conversation. He smirks when your face falls in sadness. And Tech stares at his brother, sufficanlty unimpressed with his incessant need to create chaos wherever he went. Absent-mindedly you scratch under the creature's chin in pity, feeling better when it coo’s out in enjoyment. “Shall I just work the ship myself then?” the captain's voice travels in, prompting the three clones to rush back outside and causing the dragon to startle and make its way back into your hair. Hunter leans on the frame and crosses his arms at you. “I, uh- found Gonk.” you offer him nervously. “You found a pest.” He says. “That ate our droid.” He adds looking at the remnants of the GNK. “Did you not know it was here?” You ask, wondering about what else might be lurking in the darkness. “Are you trying to undermine my position as captain?” He asks walking up to you, but with your new friend in your hair you do not want to move and disturb her. “N- no.” you answer quickly. “That's ‘no captain’ to you.” He seethes. “No captain.” you repeat firmly. Trying to steady yourself under his gaze, it’s so intense you feel like you’re swaying, but that could just be the motion of the ship. Hunter smells like a fireplace in a blizzard, something sharp, Smokey and warm. You blink at him, doing your best to stare eye to eye. He looks at you for just a second longer than what one would call normal, before plucking Gonk out of your hair and leaving the room with her in his grasp.

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6 @wondergal2001 @lafy-taffy @lafy-taffy @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @starskenobiwan @lordellbell

[kaijusplotch]

Hunter is Not Ready for Omega to go Through Puberty

Debating on if i should publish this to AO3 or not? Either way, have Hunter having small crisises of the heart when Omega reaches puberty. Everyone discovering something about Crosshair. And generally the Bad Batch having DAD feels.

Hunter was worried. Omega had been miserable with stomach pain since early that morning; practically living in the fresher. He looked through every medical pack they had but Tech had said they were portioned out for adult clones and their strength could hurt more than help.

So, Hunter got hot packs ready and dimmed the lights of the bunk room. It hurt him just as much to know that he couldn’t help her more than just to be there for her until they could get some more appropriate medicine.

“Hunter…?”

He looked up from where he was trying to look up how to treat stomach pain and his heart dropped. “Omega? what’s wrong?”

“I’m bleeding...down there.” Omega’s face was beet red and there were tears in her eyes as she stood awkwardly near the door of the fresher.

Hunter’s mind went to static. What did that mean? Was she hurt? Had she gotten hurt and he didn’t notice? His heart started to race and he got up and walked over to her.

Omega had gotten taller, her clothes from Kamino no longer fitting properly. Tech’s spare blacks were at least somewhat useful but still too big in some places even being the shortest of the Batch. She was growing fast, like all clones, but differently too. Her hips were wider for sure, but it could just be because of the mutations.

“Are you hurt? I...I don’t understand,” Hunter said, hands on her shoulders as he tried to hide his fear from his voice and face.

“Um…” She whimpered and looked away biting her lip. “I ah...I’m not hurt, my stomach hurts but I’m bleeding. Not a lot, but I don’t know either.”

“What’s going on?” Crosshair asked, walking in with Tech behind.

Omega blushed and looked away, fidgeting with the oversized top of her blacks. “m’bleeding….”

“She says she isn’t hurt, but the stomach pains are still there.” Hunter explained turning to Tech.

“She is nearing seven, she’d be going through one of her first large growth spurts. Perhaps a hormonal issue?” Tech asked, grabbing his datapad.

Hunter nodded, looking up as Crosshair patted his shoulder.

“I’ll take care of this,” Crosshair said with a slight twitch to the corner of his mouth; his version of a smile. “C’mon kid, let’s go to the fresher.”

“Ah! Found something, Sargeant,” Tech interrupted, dragging Hunter’s attention back.

“What is it? What can we do?”

“She’s going through puberty, as expected. Except...it’s different for females…” Tech looked a little pale as he read his datapad. “They have...ah...oh. Menstrual cycles begin during this time which can cause them to shed the lining of their internal reproductive organs.”

Hunter’s eyes went wide. “What? Is it dangerous?!” Hunter grabbed at the pad, although Tech snatched it back.

“No, at least it shouldn’t be. It happens monthly, along with mood changes, stomach cramps and some skin issues. Well at least that’s the same as it was for us,” Tech muttered. “She will need supplies but…I’m not sure how best to handle this, Hunter.”

Hunter rubbed his face and swallowed. “I’ll try to contact Rex. Ashoka was a teenager with him during the war, he’s got to have some kind of advice.” The door to the fresher opened and Hunter turned around, watching as Crosshair had Omega tucked up into his side. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m going to take her into town.” Crosshair tossed Omega a poncho and put on a jacket and hat for himself.

“Are you sure? We haven’t completely figured out what-”

“I’ll handle it, Tech,” Crosshair hissed with a significant look. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

Hunter furrowed his brows, but Omega was leaning into Crosshair with a smile. It would be good to let Crosshair have some time with Omega and vice-versa. “Be careful. Have your comms open.” he advised.

“Yes DAD,” Omega sighed, rolling her eyes with a smile as Crosshair chuckled softly.

The door closed behind them and Hunter groaned. “I think my heart stopped.” He leaned against the wall.

“Your fine. Just like every other time she’s called you a variation of ‘father’.” Tech pushed his goggles back up on his nose. “I’ll see about trying to find a secure line to Rex.”

“See if we have any contacts to Cut too. Maybe Suu can help explain things?” Hunter suggested looking at Tech, lost and worried. His mind was still racing on how to help look after his ad. No he was not ever admitting that to any of his brothers that he subconsciously called Omega his ad.

“I’ll get right on it. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he reassured as he walked back toward the cockpit.

Hunter spent the entire time waiting for Crosshair and Omega to return trying to get in contact with Rex or Cody. He chewed his lip as he was met again with nothing on the comms.

Echo walked in and sighed. “I’ve been trying to hunt down Cut and Suu but I can’t get any trace on the shuttle they took. Sorry, Hunter.”

“No, no it’s not your fault.” Hunter frowned and leaned back in his chair. “I should have asked them more before we left.” He scrubbed uselessly at his face and snarled. “I’m supposed to look out for her and I don’t know how to help her!”

“Hey, none of that.” Echo’s voice was firm and Hunter was a little surprised. His newest brother was rather quiet but apparently when he had something to say he would say it. “You’re doing everything you can. We all are. Omega will be okay, plenty of girls go through the same thing. We’ll adapt.”

Hunter smiled a bit. “Just like Saw said. It’s what we do best. Still want to help her feel better.” He glanced at Echo who smiled in return.

“You sound a lot like an ori’vod.” He gave a small shrug, flexing his prosthetic wrist slightly. “Just need to find out what she needs. For now, we can be there for her. She’s family.”

“Yeah, apparently Crosshair had an idea so hopefully he is able to help.” Hunter stood from his chair and stretched slowly. “How’s the upgrades Tech made?”

“Great, actually. Nice to have two hands again. Means I can give Tech a run for his money at Sabacc night.”

“Good luck with that,” Hunter laughed.

“Hey, if I can win against Cross with one hand, I think I stand a chance with two.” Echo grinned. “Maybe we’ll teach Omega next time,” he said just as the ship door opened.

“Teach me what?”

Hunter smiled in relief as he saw Omega walk in, looking a little better and holding a bag on her shoulder. “How to play Sabacc. I don’t think Tech would go easy on you, so maybe I’ll let you watch my hand next time we play. How’re you feeling?”

“Better. Cross got me some stuff.” Omega smiled, not looking as pale as before.

“I didn’t forget you guys either,” Crosshair added as he tossed a bag of items at Echo. “C’mon, kid. Let’s put this away in the fresher for ya.”

Hunter watched as Crosshair led Omega back into the bunks and relaxed. “What’d he get?” He turned to Echo.

“Food, mostly,” Echo laughed. “And other supplies. Oh, caff, keep this away from Tech. New whet stone, always useful since Wrecker loses his.”

“I do not!” Wrecker said, coming up from below deck. “Omega back? Is she feeling better?”

“Seems to be, Cross took care of it, somehow.” Hunter shrugged.

“She’s going to lay down for a bit,” Crosshair added, closing the door to the bunks behind him. “The cramps are better but she’s worn out. Try to be quiet if you need to go in.”

“How did you know how to help her, Crosshair? Tech is going in circles about what kind of information is anecdotal and what is actually medically necessary.” Echo sighed in exasperation. “It’s giving me a headache second hand.”

“I went through the same thing when I was her age.”

Hunter stared at Crosshair as the information slowly processed in his brain. “What?!”

“Quiet! don’t wake her up,” Crosshair hissed back before deflating. “If we’re going to have this discussion, let’s do it away from where the poor kid is sleeping.” He rolled his eyes and skulked off toward the small kitchen and eating area.

Hunter walked in and sat down across from Crosshair, watching as he kicked his feet up on the table chewing on a toothpick. “So what did you mean you went through the same thing? I don’t remember anything like that.”

Crosshair sighed and waited for everyone to sit before replying. “You don’t remember it because it was in the middle of the night in our eighth year.”

“That could be...what happened though? I mean...you-”

“Look like any other male clone,” Crosshair interrupted Tech. “I know. But I’m not. I had bad cramps and woke up in the middle of the night. Bled all over my bunk and was scared shitless. I ran off to the freshers with everything and tried to wash it.” Crosshair frowned. “Skirata must have heard me and found me.”

“What happened?” Hunter tensed, ready to get a plan to hunt down the trainer from Kamino.

“He helped me.” Crosshair shrugged. “Helped me get cleaned up, took the bedding to get washed and got some supplies from another trainer for me.”

“I remember that night!” Wrecker said. “I woke up and was wondering where you were,” he added with a frown. “I was worried.”

Crosshair laughed softly. “I was fine. Ended up with Skirata helping me out with medical and the Long-necks removed the ‘unneeded’ mutation.” Crosshair gave a sarcastic air quote.

“So...you’re female?” Echo asked before blushing. “I don’t mean to insult you or anything,” he added quickly.

“Genetically yes, I think the medics said that I've got an extra X. so XXY? I don’t know. Doesn’t mean anything to me now.” Crosshair pulled his feet down. “Doesn’t affect my work so I don’t care.”

“What can we do to help her then?” Hunter asked, leaning against the table as he took everything in. Crosshair’s genetic identity didn’t mean anything would change. He was still Crosshair’s ori’vod nothing would change that.

“First thing’s first, don’t make it a big deal; for EITHER of us.” Crosshair stared down Wrecker and Tech the most. “Second, she’s going to have cramps and mood swings so don’t take it personal. Third, the choco in the ship is GOING to disappear, don’t fight her on it.”

“Doesn’t sound too different from a standard cadet’s first growth spurt,” Tech commented as he made notes. “We can start to get more supplies for her, new clothes so she feels comfortable.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t look too comfortable in yer blacks,” Wrecker snickered. “Maybe we should think about getting her armor too! She’s already been doing great with her electro-bow.”

Hunter sighed and leaned back, biting back a groan and the ache in his chest of Omega growing up too quickly. “She...she isn’t ready for armor.”

“She’s the right age to start, Hunter. We all started with training armor at seven,” Echo advised, leaning up against the door frame. “We could do the mandalorian thing, have her started with a pauldron, and chest piece.”

“I really don’t want to think about that. She’s too young to be putting on armor and...and fighting.” Hunter stared at the ceiling, brows furrowed as he tried to control himself. “I don’t want her fighting. She’s just a kid and...and she deserves something other than the same shit we grew up with.”

“Careful, Hunter,” Crosshair flicked his toothpick at him. “Your buir is showing.”

“Shut up!” Hunter snapped and glared, hackles raised; although he really didn’t know why. Maybe because he was afraid Crosshair would accuse him of going soft again. Although that wasn’t exactly Crosshair before.

“Honestly, We’re all showing our buir tendencies.” Echo said with a small smile. “I understand why you don’t want to have her go through the same things we did, Hunter; but she won’t. We’ll train her. We know what not to do from our own experiences. She’ll be fine.”

Hunter frowned and leaned forward again. “I’ll think about it. For now, let’s just try to make her comfortable. Growth spurts are never fun.”

[gabriel4sam]

Seventy-two varieties of root vegetable and other tasty things to discover (now that the Sith are dead); a Gen Obi-Wan story!

Written for theObi-Wan Kenobi Gen exchange and beta-ed by the charming @texasdreamer01

Under the cut, the fic! 

It was when he saw Ahsoka eyeing a beetle with keen interest than Obi-Wan decided it was time for an intervention. He had totally failed the culinary education of his own Padawan, he wouldn’t fail it in the same way for his Grandpadawan.

“You didn’t fail my education, Master, seriously-“

“-Shh, Anakin, I’m the one telling the story.”

The war was dying down, for no reasons the Jedi could exactly pinpoint. They were doing exactly the same things they had done for years, but this time the other side was answering their propositions of peace talks and, sector by sectors, the combats were stopping and tentative talks started.

The Senate was busy sending ambassadors left and right, companies were tentatively establishing commercial routes again, employment was going up and even Asajj Ventress was calming down, because after finally killing Dooku the only thing she apparently wanted was to roam the galaxy with a besotted Quinlan Vos trailing behind her like a besotted, if well-armed, puppy.  

How sad it was that a previously undiagnosed heart condition had taken Chancellor Palpatine before his time, before he could see the peace and harmony he had so wished for.

“Padmé will laugh so much when she hears you called her blaster an undiagnosed heart condition.”

“The joint investigation between the Judicial officers and the Jedi was thorough, Anakin. Heart condition.”

So, Anakin liked to eat worms, Ahsoka wasn’t far behind, the clones had only eaten rations for all their lives, and once a strange mushroom in Fives’ case. That had prompted hours of talking to the wall and giggling about stuff his foot was telling him, the right because the left was apparently quite rude. After seeing that, and also the way Fives had been ill after, none of the vode had wanted to test anything that wasn’t a ration sealed in vacuum and with the same taste every time, no matter what was written on the package.

Time for an intervention.

Obi-Wan had called his old friend Dex and asked for the permission to borrow his diner during the closing day.

Anakin had whined that it was a little hypocritical of Obi-Wan, who survived on tea, sass and more tea, with sometimes some algae biscuits thrown in it when Bant could corner him long enough, to comment on anyone’s eating habits.

“I didn’t whine!”

“You really did, my dear. And you do on a regular basis.”

Dex had said yes and even offered his diner, and more importantly his kitchen, every closing day when Obi-Wan was on Coruscant.

So, Obi-Wan had chosen his first tasters.

Ahsoka, of course, for who he had started all of that. Worms and beetles and other crawling things were fine in a pitch, he had himself sometimes indulged when Qui-Gon Jinn’s latest nonsense had thrown his Padawan self in the middle of a jungle with no rations. He could also admit that with the stress of the war, he had let his responsibilities erase his body’s normal hunger, but it was no more a time of war. Time to eat like a civilized sentient.

Anakin himself. Young Knight Obi-Wan, struggling with grief and -he could see it now- depression, had let this feral child keep his slave days habits in term of food: Anakin ate everything that couldn’t move away quick enough, in a latent fear there wouldn’t be something to fill his belly later. It was honestly heart-breaking.

It could also be heart-healing: the way the younger Jedi always insisted for Ahsoka to eat first… Obi-Wan will fight for every child in the galaxy to have enough, not like Anakin couldn’t when he was younger and now that the war is finishing, he hoped they could make a difference here.

Padme, because now that the so-called secret marriage was out in the open, he hoped he could spend more time with the young woman and deepen their nascent beginning friendship. The galaxy really could do with more friendship.

And Rex and Cody, the two vode they were closest to. Once those two had come back to the barracks in better shape than Fives after his mushrooms experience, the other vode could probably be convinced to try something else than rations.

Aaylala, who had just taken her first Padawan and would spend a year of Coruscant to better learn each other, had already put herself, the Padawan and Commander Bly on what she called jokingly “Master Kenobi’s dinner waiting list”. She wanted to explore with them the food of her home planet and reconnect with her culture.  Boil and Waxer could probably be convinced, too.

It meant the first experience had to be a success.

After his morning session with the Council, Obi-Wan had taken his afternoon off, that too being a new event in the Jedi Order. Most of the time, Bant or Anakin had too threaten to sit on him just for him going to bed. Everybody had sworn to never talk again about that time it had been so bad Master Windu himself really did have to sit on him for Obi-Wan just to take a nap.

“Speaking for yourself, Master, me, I’m never ever going to let you forget that one.”

He had slowly explored the closest market, feeling slightly nostalgic. Qui-Gon always had insisted food should be a fuel, not a passion. He had also said that taking pleasure in the taste, the smell, the hundreds of wonderful vegetables, fruits, meats, grains, offered by nature, that it was celebrating the joy of life, of the Force...

Obi-Wan realized he had forgotten that, in the despair of the war. Now, he took pleasure in choosing fresh produce for the people he loved. Around him, the market was bustling with life. People laughing, speaking, tasting, vendors celebrating their products… It was the season for one of the biggest food import of Coruscant. It was some citrus fruit which had the very rare peculiarity, a very rare one, to be edible for all known sentients. The smell was everywhere in the market, fresh and cleansing and Obi-Wan had taken a bite of one with a groan of pleasure the moment he had purchased them, the juice sweet and slightly acidic at the same time.

When he got to the dinner, he cooked with the same deep happiness of preparing something easy, nutritious and tasty for his family. He had decided to make it simple for the first time, not wanting to push the boundaries of Cody and Rex. Going from rations to a nine-course meal would probably be overkill.

Obi-Wan himself tended to a vegetarian diet, like Qui-Gon had, but he hadn’t always had a choice, and Ahsoka’s body needed an animal based died in a way human didn’t, so he had dismissed his all-time favourite recipe, a creamy vegetable pie a young Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi had learned from a young senatorial aid Bail Organa.

He prepared a stew which he had learned from Kit Fisto, with a lot of root vegetables and some river fish, aromatic bark from the Gold system and just a little touch of black salt. Soon, the entire diner smelled of Obi-Wan’s teenage years, when he and Bant did their homework and Kit Fisto prepared dinner.

Obi-Wan had a smile on his face, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. He should call Bant, soon. Perhaps she and some of their other childhood friends could come the next time….For dessert, he cleaned yellow, purple and red berries from Naboo, to honour Padmé, to be eaten with fresh cheese.

Nothing very complicated. Just simple food, to share and to rejoice in the new chance of the galaxy.

“To the peace?” Padmé proposed for toast at the beginning of the meal and all, they raised their glasses.

“To the peace,” they repeated in answer.

Seated between Cody and Rex, Obi-Wan explained sotto voce what exactly they were eating. He explained the planet of origin of every vegetable –

“Because everything has to be an occasion for a lecture.”

“Anakin, if you don’t stop, you will be in charge of the washing-up. And I used a lot of saucepans.”

Rex was very, very cautious with his first taste. He had been there when Fives had vomited everything he had ever eaten, and had been slightly alarmed once Obi-Wan had explained what a root vegetable was.

“Doesn’t seem very hygienic.” Was his opinion.

It changed after first taste and his plate was quickly cleaner than a ship before the admiral’s inspection.

Cody was more curious about why different sorts of vegetables had been designed.

“Waste of resources,” he decided, “one per species of sentient who wanted to eat them would have been sufficient.”

Obi-Wan hadn’t laughed. How could Cody, raised in the sterile environment of Kamino, know better about the extraordinary abundance of nature? In his own plate, he had picked a small section of one of the root vegetables he had chosen.

“This is a red stachys”, he explained, “the species comes from a planet all the way in the Outer Rim. It was only present on one of their landmasses, but as it isn’t attacked by fungus or insect pests, it’s now cultivated on all the planets and a lot of other agricultural worlds.”

Anakin made a face. He hated agricultural worlds, mostly for the smell. The desert boy loved his cities.

Obi-Wan smiled at his former Padawan’s face but continued:”Today, you can easily find seven, sometimes ten subspecies in Coruscant markets, but on the original world, where the people had centuries to select cultivars, you can find seventy-two cultivars. And it is only one of the vegetables you can find there.”

“Seventy-two!!”

Cody looked a little more at Obi-Wan’s spoon and the innocent little selection of vegetables swimming in the rich-tasting sauce.

“And every world…”

“Every world has its own food. Every ancient country, you could say. Every area. Sometimes every town has its own speciality.”

It was Cody’s turn to make a face. Not surprising: after years of ration, the abundance of possibilities seemed strange to his mind.

“It tends to be a little standardized today,” Obi-Wan admitted, “but a lot of people are working hard on preserving heirloom varieties and culinary traditions…”

Cody stabbed a bit of fish with his own cutlery and tasted it, chewing cautiously.

On the other side of the table, Padmé and Anakin were flirting. Anakin’s lines were terrible but Padmé’s own use of Naboo flowery poetry wasn’t exactly better.

Next to Cody, Rex and Ahsoka were whispering something about putting joy back in the Senate and something very suspicious about dye that Obi-Wan and Cody definitely weren’t hearing, because that one would be Commander Fox’s problem.

Cody tasted a yellow stachys, stolen directly from Obi-Wan’s plate because there were only red in his own plate. Then he tried again a red, pairing it with a green kidney-shaped pod.

“And that?” He asked, poking another pod.

“Magnolens. Seldom grown today, originated from the world of Glee Anselm.”

Cody seemed lost in thought, so Obi-Wan let him chew in peace, instead discussing literature with Padmé. They had all sworn they wouldn’t speak of work tonight, so every time they drifted to politics, Anakin interrupted them by stealing a kiss from Padmé.

It was a rousing and pleasant success.

“Master?” Ahsoka asked later, when she was helping with cleaning Dex’s kitchen. It would probably be neater than before their arrival.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Can I come to the market with you next time? And I think Rex would like it too.”

“Of course you can.” She gave him a sudden hug, surprising him.

From the kitchen, Obi-Wan could see the rest of them, Padmé and Cody lost in debate, Anakin just finishing his third helping of dessert.  Rex had taken apart his own dessert, testing the berries one by one.

His former Padwan sensed their gazes and turned to them, a smile on his face. His eyes were clearer than they had been in years, and Obi-Wan felt pride and happiness swell in him.

“You would be very welcome, my dear,” He answered his Grandpadawan.

[mando-chicken]

Mental Occupation | Chapter 3.

“When Fives is killed, his essence refuses to become one with the force, instead, searching out the easiest sentient being to attach itself to. After years working beneath Palpatine, Fox has had his mental shields completely eroded and his defences completely shattered, making him the perfect person for Fives’ essence to transfer into. The two of them must figure out how all this strange ‘jedi stuff’ works and how they can both coexist long enough to save their brothers and if they’re lucky, perhaps the rest of the galaxy too.”

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Thire tried not to frown as he watched Fox silently eat his morning meal, listening to his fellow commanders as they playfully teased one another and swapped gossip, while keeping an eye on his older brother for any signs of distress. While it was quite common for Fox to stay relatively quiet first thing in the morning, especially before his first cup of caff for the day, he seemed to be even more withdrawn than usual. In truth, Thire had wanted to let him sleep for a little longer as he was certain that the other commander had barely slept, but the mess hall didn’t wait around for anyone, and he wanted to be sure that Fox got a decent serve of rations before he would no doubt sneak away to hide in his office under a pile of datapads.  

When Fox was stressed, he tended to push his brothers away and throw himself into his work. He could detach himself from the world with the cold, hard logic of forms and reports, refusing to accept comfort or express any of the emotions swirling around in his mind. They would give him space for a while and allow him to work his way through whatever was weighing on his mind, and he would always come back to them in the end. He just needed them nearby to offer their support in the form of silent companionship and reassurances.  

But this situation was unlike anything they had faced before, and Thire wasn’t sure that Fox’s usual method of dealing with trauma would help him to move on from the horrifying situation he had just been through. While the exact details surrounding what happened were rather vague at best, one thing was blaringly obvious. Fox had killed a brother.  

The very thought made Thire’s insides squirm in discontent, and he was unable to stop the slightly ill look from claiming his features as he rolled the concept around in his head. It truly made no sense as to why Fox would allow such a thing to happen – he was practically the king of preaching about how important the stun setting of their weapons were when dealing with their targets – so for him to then turn around and shoot one of their own brothers was unspeakable. There was no doubt that it had to have been an accident, but Fox didn’t make mistakes. Alpha-17 didn’t raise some rookie amateur who went into every situation guns blazing, he raised a calm, confident commander, who always managed to get the job done efficiently and competently.  

He didn’t know what had happened to Fox, and for the sake of preserving what was left of the man’s sanity, Thire would give him some time to process it, but he was going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another. He just hoped that Cody was able to keep his younger brother, Rex, at bay long enough for him to do so. To say that the Captain had been mad would have been a massive understatement – the man was seeing red and looked about a second away from trying to return the favour – it was lucky that Thire had managed to turn up when he did, because even General Skywalker seemed to be having trouble keeping him calm.  

From the corner of his eye he could see that despite the fact Thorn was happily ribbing Stone for something that had happened on one of the missions overnight, the other Commander kept subtly glancing at Fox. He was trying to act as normal as possible, but the curiosity burning in his eyes was more than obvious. It made sense – Thorn had been in a completely different sector when everything had gone down, only hearing about what had happened over comms and during the debrief afterwards while Fox slept in the medbay – he was closer to Fox than any of them, had known him longer, and worried for him like an anxious mother nexu. Thorn was clearly struggling not to just grab his brother by the shoulders and shake the information out of him, but if there was one thing all members of the Guard had to learn, it was patience.  

Stone was perhaps the most collected of them all, but that was only to be expected. He had always been able to practically ooze calm from his very pores, and this situation was no different. He wasn’t uncaring, of course, simply able to remain confident and collected – perhaps that was why he kept getting assigned to working with Senator Binks, much to Stone’s eternal agony – but it was easy to see how he was unnerved from the way his brow was constantly furrowed and he kept getting lost in his thoughts.  

“How are you feeling this morning, Fox?” Of course Hound would be the one to speak to the Commander so bluntly. The kid was only a sergeant, technically not high ranking enough that he should be addressing a commanding officer so casually, yet they’d admittedly taught him a couple of bad habits over the years. Thorn had taken the younger clone under his wing when he was fresh off Kamino, teaching him how to survive in the treacherous landscape that was Coruscant. They’d brought him to their table, allowed him to work closely with them, and inevitably brought him into their inner circle.  

Fox jerked after a moment, seeming to suddenly realise that he was the one being addressed, blinking owlishly at Hound, “fine.” His response drew a disbelieving scoff from Stone, who offered a raised eyebrow. “I’m a little tired if you must know,” he continued slowly, sensing that his answer was not exactly what they’d been looking for, “nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”

That got a genuine laugh from the table. A good night’s sleep? Unheard of. But Thire was pleased to see that at least some of Fox’s cynical humour remained.  

“Seriously though, what did happen last night?” Hound managed to ask after quieting his amused chuckles, “there’s some real strange rumours floating around the barracks, and I thought that maybe you could give us a little info-”

“Quit digging for gossip, Hound, before we chuck you back to the CT table,” Thorn growled, wrapping an arm around Hound’s neck and dragging him into a firm headlock, “never should have let you hang out with us, you’re too nosy for your own good, kid. You’ll find out when the info gets declassified, just like everyone else.”

Hound pulled an admirable attempt at making sad tooka eyes, but Thorn simply tightened his hold until the younger clone was forced to slap at the commander’s arm, needing breath. “Should’ve left me where you found me,” he grinned after finally being freed from Thorn’s hold, “besides, you love me too much to send me back now.”

Thorn simply glowered at him, stealing a tuber from his brother’s plate in retaliation, “perhaps,” he nodded, “or perhaps I just knew you’d never make it on your own, especially not with the way you keep poking your nose into everyone else’s business.”  

Hound made an indignant squawking sound, puffing up like an offended bird. He tried to reach out with his own fork to steal back a tuber from Thorn’s plate, but the older brother was too swift, too used to dealing with vengeful little brothers, and slid the plate out of Hound’s reach. He ensured to shove another tuber in his mouth, just for spite.  

When Thire looked to Fox, he didn’t have that disapproving scowl on his face, or the amusement that twinkled deep within his eyes, giving away his true feelings. Instead, he seemed almost nervous, like he was intruding on something not meant for him to see. While his brothers played and joked and tried to keep the atmosphere as normal as possible, Fox seemed to keep looking away, distracted by something only he could see. His fork moved around and around his plate, but barely any of the food had been disturbed. Most worryingly, the cup of caff that should have already been downed, sat untouched before him, no longer steaming as the commander preferred.  

Before Thire could mention it, however, his wrist comm chimed at him, signalling an end to their morning meal and a need to return to duty. “Alrighty boys, that’s our cue to head out,” he sighed, taking the last sip of his own caff, scowling at the bitter taste of the now cool dregs. His words were met with a chorus of groans as the rest of the table rushed to stuff their faces with the rest of their meal.  

Thorn was the first to stand, his stance already shifting into his usual command stance, “You heard Thire boys, and you all know your designated duties for this morning, so I’d suggest you all get to it.” He was answered by a mix of affirmatives as the other commanders and their sergeant gathered up their now empty plates and mugs, breaking apart to return them to the serving area to be cleaned in time for mid-meal.  

Thire, as agreed with Thorn last night while Fox had slept, stayed behind to wait as Fox too returned his items (a still full caff cup among them) to the servers. He moved to walk in step with his fellow commander, leading their way through the bustling hallways and towards the offices. There were men running in all directions – officers barking orders at squads as they raced towards their destinations, and soft-shells sprinting down the corridors, arms piled high with datapads and flimsi sheets – it made navigating the base a challenge at best, and a nightmare at worst.  

Eventually, they managed to reach Fox’s office and Thire was quick to type in the access code, sliding inside and out of the steady stream of brothers. Fox is swift to lock the door behind them, glancing around the room briefly, before wandering over to his desk and taking a long look at the rather intimidating pile of datapads. He places his helmet down at the foot of the desk, and Thire is glad that Fox is at least feeling well enough to keep the bucket off his head to look his brother in the eyes.  

“I know it’s not much,” Thire begins, clearing his throat, “but like I said, we were able to get you the first few hours off this morning, so you can focus on dealing with that monster,” he gestures at the unsigned pads, “or you could, y’know, actually relax for a few minutes.” He expects Fox to offer him his usual deadpan expression, but the man just nods slowly, seemingly unsure what to say in response.  

He continues, saving his brother from having to come up with something, “I should be heading off though, I’ve got chancellor sitting duty,” he huffs, the irritation in his tone completely genuine. Fox makes an odd expression, caught somewhere between looking like he’d tasted something sour, and horror. A reasonable enough response, given the shadiness of the man’s character, and, of course, the fact that he always seemed to enjoy using the Guard as his personal servants.  

“Yep, I understand that look,” he grinned, hoisting up his bucket and placing it over his head, clicking it into place. He took a step to the door before pausing, “just make sure you comm me, or Thorn if you’d prefer, if you need anything. And I mean it, anything, Fox.” He waits until his brother gives a nod, before heading back out the door and merging with the stream of brothers heading toward the exit. He didn’t like Fox’s behaviour, but there was little he could do about it. He could, however, think of someone who would know exactly what to do with him.  

Thire pulled up his wrist comm, beginning to type out a new message to Commander Cody.

-----

Fives is quiet when Commander Thire leaves the office, taking a moment to ensure he was completely alone, before huffing out a deep breath. He swayed slightly on his feet with the force of it, bringing a hand up to his head to begin massaging his aching temple. He could already tell that a nasty headache was brewing from the stress alone. Yet another problem to add to his steadily growing list.  

It had been particularly painful to sit through morning meal with the other commanders of the Coruscant Guard, trying his best to pretend he did not see the way they were all eyeing him, clearly dying to interrogate him for answers he simply did not possess. He had been especially startled when the lone sergeant, Hound, his mind supplied, had spoken to him, and he regretted not having been paying full attention.  

Rather, Fives had been entirely absorbed by his own thoughts. Something did not sit right with the way his brain seemed to be randomly supplying him with information he was certain he did not have previously. The names of all the commanders came to him as easily as the names of his own batchmates, as if he’d known them all along, despite the fact he had only met half of them before and even then it was only a mere glance in passing.  

Yet somehow he felt as though he already knew their tells. He knew how Thire constantly worked hard to prove that it was the right decision to promote him to the rank of commander. He knew how Thorn had a particular soft spot for the shinies that came to join the Guard, and would defend them to his final breath if it came down to it. He knew how Stone preferred to hang back from the others, but loved them no less fiercely. And he even knew that despite all his bravado, Hound was a soft man at heart and always carried candies in his belt pockets for children he came across on patrol.  

But Fives didn’t know them, not really, they were strangers.  

He had always been good at reading people. It was a skill he had possessed since he was a child – to look at one of his brothers or one of the trainers and near enough feel their emotions echoed back at him as clearly as words printed on piece of flimsi – and he had always assumed that it was a natural ability. But this seemed too much, even for his natural aptitude for noticing subtle cues.  

There were so much unexplained knowledge suddenly bombarding Fives’ thoughts, and his head only pounded louder as he tried to figure out why he seemed to already know how to navigate the base with his eyes closed. The layout of the base seemed to suddenly click in his mind, like he had forgotten it briefly, but had always known it seep down. It was as though his mind was clouded, something blocking him from accessing all of the thoughts he could feel buried somewhere deep within his head, only the occasional thought drifting through the fog and to the forefront of his mind.  

Fives sunk down into the rather uncomfortable seat across from the lone desk, the crimson of his borrowed armour catching his attention. He knew that he was most certainly not in his own body, and so wondered if he had somehow, accidentally, acquired some of the commander’s lingering thoughts. As far as Fives’ knowledge of the situation went, it seemed as reasonable an explanation as he would be able to come up with.  

It made him feel dirty. He had no idea what had happened to himself, or to Commander Fox, but it felt downright voyeuristic to be partial to the random raw thoughts that came from whatever remained of the Commander’s mind. But he had no idea how to find out what had happened to either of them, or how to rectify their rather precarious situation. If Commander Fox’s thoughts were still able to linger, then was he too present somewhere, locked deep within Fives’ consciousness? Or had Fox somehow traded places with him and now inhabited a cold corpse? Fives certainly hoped not.  

For a moment he closed his eyes, thinking hard on the foreign mass of thoughts plaguing his mind, deciding that he might as well try to figure out a few things while he had a few hours to himself. He deeply regretted not paying Commander Tano more attention when she had described Jedi meditation to him, but found that it wasn’t too difficult to try and isolate the foggy area from the rest of his mind. He recalled her talking about being able to create shields around a mind, to keep out the thoughts of others, something that all sentients could achieve (albeit not to the degree of a force sensitive).  

He was no doubt clumsy with his method of ‘shielding’, and it was significantly more work than Fives had been expecting, but in the end he felt satisfied with his attempt. He was pretty certain that he had managed to corral all of the rogue thoughts into the one area, away from his actual thoughts so that he could tell which one of them was thinking what, rather than having a jumble of random sensations and thoughts mixing together.  

His head seemed to burn whenever he disturbed the other mind lingering in his head, but Fives pushed determinedly onward. Poking and prodding at it like an overexcited child, desperate to find even the slightest sign that there could be even a spark of life. It was a tedious process but finally, after what felt like agonising hours of work, Fives felt a sharp feeling of surprise stab back at him.

The mass of fog seemed to shudder and shift, rearranging itself until it formed a slightly more coherent shape that Fives usually associated with the feeling of another person’s mind when he tried to get a grasp on their emotions, only amplified tenfold. He could feel Fox, if only vaguely. He seemed groggy, as though just waking up from a long sleep, and Fives was a little unnerved by the unnatural feeling of someone else’s emotions flickering through his mind. He silently prayed that the Commander wouldn’t be too angry, but it seemed his hope was in vain, for the first clear emotion Fives felt was irritation at a level commanders usually reserved for the poor shiny tasked with waking them from a pleasant nap. His fears were confirmed when a thought came thundering across his mind.

“What the kriff just happened!?”