#Week 9

[resistantecho]

More clone brain rot...

There's a meteor shower visible tonight...and now Hevy and the Domino Squad are taking up that special place in my brain 😆

Summer of Bad Batch WEEK 9: Stargazing

@summer-of-bad-batch

#everything reminds me of clones @lonewolflupe @eclec-tech @crosshairscrustysock

[weekly-watchdogs]

can your draw a watchdog of your choosing dressed as mew ichigo (if you’re sick of drawing cats then like. a clown. idk)

#9 from last week and this week👍

and happy 11th anniversary to the show ^_^

[jherbo10]

Scruffy boy🫶

🎥:cbs sports

[kissesforjoeyb]

gorgeous baby 😻

[miserablejester]

"He found himself in an old-fashioned parlour with dark oak panelling and a mantelpiece the size of a young triumphal arc. Directly before him a lovely young woman was sitting in a deep window-seat, gazing out at the trees and the high bare hills beyond. He had just time enough to notice that her left hand lacked a little finger, when suddenly she was not there at all - or perhaps it was more accurate to say she changed."

Been some time since I had time to draw, but I have finally returned - albeit one day too late for this piece's intended week. I really love the chapter with the introduction of Starecross, as Segundus continues to be haunted by his visions as well as Childermass.

[ilovejustinherbert]

Week 9 win!

[joeybsblackgf]

yall think if i twerk in joe’s face that’ll make him feel better? 😞

[sarahsmi13s]

CSI: Bobby

forensic scientist!robert 'bob' floyd

i can kill you in 70 different ways and not leave a single trace of evidence behind

bob floyd had always been fascinated by science. it was the art of discovery and learning. he loved all branches of the subject, but chemistry and physics were his favorites one was based in learning how things worked in the world. how things reacted to each other, with each other. and what they were composed of and how to break them down. the other was based on learning how the world worked on things. how those things reacted to the circumstances and conditions around them. biology snuck in at third place later when he got to ninth grade. and the human body was such a complex yet simple thing. a near perfect combination of his two loves. and then later his sophomore year of high school he went on a field trip to the local crime lab when his science class was doing a unit on DNA. and that is when he found his true love. forensics

======

and thank you to @desert-fern for giving me this idea! 💜

[my-rewrite-academia]

Week 9

Names:

Throughout last week and continuing on this week, the students have been training - a lot. Mainly incorporating quirks into their combat and gaining more control over their quirks. Shouto, Tenya, and Momo are the best in this aspect, as they've all had prior experience. Mashirao and Tsuyu are very competant as well, as are Eijirou and Fumikage.

Denki and Mina struggle the most, hesitating to use their quirks each time. At this point, the staff have already assured them that the villains were able to survive their quirk usage, (though they're all heavy disfigured or disabled as a result, which is being kept secret from them), but the fact that it came close was enough for them to be traumatised from it.

However, Denki is slowly improving his quirk usage, using small shocks to disturb his opponents when he lands a hit. When Momo notices his improvement, he tells her that it was because of Izuku's analysis.

Bakugou, once again, is stuck with a dummy rather than an actual sparring partner. Eijirou approaches him, asking to meet him after school finishes. At first, he doesn't respond, mulling over it, but agrees eventually.

-

During Heroic Foundations (Written), Aizawa informs the kids that they'll be choosing hero names now to use for the Sports Festival, just for the little bit of anonymity. To do this, 1-A meet with 1-J, who are part of the management/business course.

This is to help 1-A learn more about managing their public image, while also helping 1-J gain a bit more experience in actually managing (future) heroes.

During this crossover, each students is paired with another so the management kids can advise the heroic students and draft a few ideas for hero names. They also bring the designs for their suits so the management kids can pick a fitting name.

Izuku is paired with Mikosu Saki, a girl with long, light-blue hair and yellow eyes, almost gold, and white gloves. She's a bit quiet, more on the introverted side, but once they actually start the project, she displays a lot of passion for management.

They go through a lot of names, with Saki throwing away all of his names to do with All Might, such as Mighty Man, Small Might, and so on. She tells him that it won't be until his third year that his name will be permanent, but it's better to choose a solid name now so he can get his name out easier.

Izuku deliberates on this, but he's unable to come up with a good-enough name. At least, nothing that appeals to him.

Saki then asks a simple question.

"What do you want to achieve through being a hero?"

Izuku is stunned for a moment, because people have asked why he wants to be a hero, (Tomura comes to mind, and he stifles a wince at the thought), but nobody has really asked about the outcome he desires.

Saki then goes onto explain the backstory behind other heroes' names. All Might once claimed to have chosen his name to express how he was to use 'all of his might' to save people. Present Mic chose his name as a little nod to say that he will be there, in the 'present', and to his quirk. Mount Lady decided on her name after classmates claimed they'd 'climb her like a mountain' and she wanted the sex appeal.

She asks him what he wants to show by becoming a hero.

Izuku thinks about this. He wants a lot. He mainly wants to become a hero because he wants to save people. That's all. But he also wants to show that it was possible, to be a spark of hope for everyone who was told they were 'too weak' to even dream of becoming a hero. He wants to show that strength is not a necessity to becoming a hero. That his intelligence was just as strong as All Might's fist.

... That the quirkless aren't powerless. He remembers the villains at the USJ, spitting out the word 'Kyou' like it was trash, a name that was branded onto him just as 'Deku' was, and it comes to him just like that.

"Kyou," he says, and Saki nearly jumps out of her seat from the shock of it all. He quietly reveals that he's quirkless to her, making sure the other 1-J students don't hear, and she tries to relax when people start to look over.

"Why that?" she asks, instead of some sort of insult or accusation, which makes Izuku feel so damn relieved. "People would be calling you that no matter what now, even if they don't know."

He knows that already. He knows that this slur will be thrown at him from every which way if he chooses this name, and he knows that it would quickly reveal to the pro heroes at the Sports Festival that he's quirkless... But it's the name he wants.

"Kyou, meaning hollow," he mumbles, but Saki can hear it nonetheless. "But it doesn't have to mean that. Kyou can also name education."

And he intends to edcuate hero society. He intends to teach them all that quirkless does not mean powerless. if he manages to climb the rankings, if he's able to be recognised as a hero, it will become that much harder for 'Kyou' to be used as an insult.

"Kyou will stop being a slur, and it will be known as the name of the first quirkless hero."

Saki eyes him, her heart still racing from the idea. After a moment of silence, she tells him about her quirk. It's called Prediction, and allows her to gain vague details about a person ten-year-later if she touches them. She asks if he's okay with her using her quirk on him.

Izuku agrees, and she peels off her gloves, then takes his hand.

At once, in a split-second, she sees it. We don't see everything she does, only seeing small flashes, of Izuku laughing freely with two others, (too blurry to see who those figures belong to), of him in the middle of some sort of passionate speech, of him with a small figure as he hugs them tight.

She sees all this in the time it takes her to blink, and she comes back to the present, removing her hand from Izuku's.

"Yeah," she says, writing onto Izuku's whiteboard. "Let's go with that, Kyou."

When she says it, Izuku sort of expects to flinch. He expects some level of hurt. But there's none of it. No, all he feels is warmth, and he wonders if the quirkless percentage will feel the same when he gets his name out there.

After the name is decided, they start ideating a tagline to go with it, as most heroes have.

When the lesson hits the half-way mark, Aizawa and Ectoplasm, (who teaches 1-J), have the students present their hero names to the class.

Aoyama Yuuga - Shining Hero: Spotlight

Ashido Mina - Alien Hero: Acid Trip

Asui Tsuyu - Rainy Day Hero: Froppy

Bakugou Katsuki - The Great Hero: Bakugou (unable to find a suitable name)

Hagakure Tooru - Stealth Hero: Kousen (meaning 'beam')

Iida Tenya - Turbo Hero: Ingenium

Jirou Kyouka - The Attentive Hero: Amplify

Kaminari Denki - Stun Gun Hero: Chargebolt

Kirishima Eijirou - The Sturdy Hero: Red Riot

Kouda Kouji - Wild Hero: Anivoice

Midoriya Izuku - The Versatile Hero: Kyou

Mineta Minoru - Restraint Hero: Purple Rain

Ojirou Mashirao - The Dignified Hero: Tailwhip

Satou Rikidou - The Sweet Hero: Fornax (the Greek God of bakery)

Sero Hanta - The Taping Hero: Cellophane

Shouji Mezou - Shifting Hero: Tentacole

Todoroki Shouto - Cold Hero: Shouto (unable to find a suitable name)

Tokoyami Fumikage - Jet-Black Hero: Tsukuyomi

Uraraka Ochako - The Uplifting Hero: Uravity

Yaoyorozu Momo - Hero of Creation: Izanami (Japanese Goddess of creation)

-

Target:

The next day, as 1-A are about to leave for the day, a large group awaits them outside of their classroom, (unintentionally blocking the one of 1-B's exits, forcing them to leave through the back one), all looking at them with a mix of disdain and envy. The headache builds before they even speak.

When they do speak, that headache worsens immediately, as they all speak over each other, accusing them of being attention-seekers, challenging them, or wanting to get a look at the USJ-survivors.

One and a half weeks. That's all it took before the student body decided to crack and the dam fell apart. Throughout that time, 1-A have been... on-edge, to say the least. It's not that easy to forget how terrified they were, and how ashamed they were to have to rely on heroes when that was exactly what they were trying to become.

Yet, there they were. Students from all different classes, in their faces, unable to be decent to any extent.

In the back, Bakugou scowls at the crowd, ready to burst, but quickly decides against it, recalling the several warnings on his behaviour, and instead thinks about leaping out of the window to escape them, not caring about being on the top floor.

1-A are trying whatever they can to get the group to disperse, especially Tenya and Momo, (as the class representatives), but it becomes a bit too much and Tooru snaps first, yelling, "Move!", followed by a shallow threat of making them.

"Wow," a purple-haired kid, Shinsou Hitoshi, drawls, his baggy eyes dragging over them, his head tilted up as though he was looking down on them. "You survive one villain attack and become this egotistical?" He sneers at them, like he was looking at a pile of trash on the street. "A bit of attention makes you like this already, huh?"

Izuku faintly recalls meeting him in the entrance exam - the kid who had a brainwashing quirk and helped an actor get to safety.

He goes on, mocking them, either unaware or deliberately ignoring how Tooru was clearly beginning to tremble with the rest of 1-A's becoming less uncomfortable and more frustrated. Shinsou just goes on, telling them to watch out, claiming that they only got into 1-A due to having strong quirks and the entrance exams favoured strong quirks and looked over quirks like his.

At this, Mina hears her final thread snap.

"Oh, shut up already!" she yells, silencing him, though he appears less shocked by her outburst and more smug. "You really think you can say the exam was biassed towards us?" She gestures around them, particularly to those without a typically strong quirk. "You think you can say that when you look like a damn twig!?"

Shinsou scowls, unwilling to back down. "If I had a strong quirk-"

"Then what?" Denki coldly cuts in, face red with anger. "Let me tell you something, buddy: Tsuyu has a frog mutation. Iida has engines in his calves. Jirou blasts sound waves. Mineta has sticky balls for hair. Ojirou has a tail, fluffy as it is. Sero has sticky tape for elbows."

Shinsou falters as Denki challenges him to call them typically strong quirks.

"They passed the exam because they trained for it! They didn't just rely on their quirks like you apparently do, you stick-figure-looking piece of-!"

"Kaminari-kun!" Izuku cuts him off before he says anything indecent, but his eyes are fiery as he meets Shinsou's. "... Do you think the USJ attack was fun?" Shinsou says nothing. "Do you think we wanted to be attacked? Do you think we wanted to watch our teacher get beaten to an inch of his life? Do you think I wanted to be tortured by some superhuman creature? Do you think we wanted that? Because let me tell you, we didn’t.” He glares, not even noticing how many students backed away as a result. “We nearly died. I spent a day in a hospital bed believing I did. That attack isn’t something any of us hold pride in. You want to beat us in the festival? Go ahead. But,” -at this point, he levels his glare at the Shinsou- “Do you really think you can beat us? When you’ve put no effort?”

Shinsou bares his teeth, scowling. “No effort?” he hisses, his anger rising once more. “I’m sorry I don’t have a flashy, physical quirk like the rest of you–”

“Flashy?” Izuku scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Hagakure-san is invisible. Ojirou-kun has a tail. Kouda-kun can control animals. Tell me how that’s supposed to help them kill a robot?” Shinsou goes quiet. “Simple: it doesn’t. It’s hard work and effort that helped them pass the exam. You haven’t worked out a single time, have you?” He gestures to his noodle arms, making Shinsou hide them behind his back. “You rely too much on your quirk. Do you even know how to throw a punch?” Shinsou blushes. “Before you declare war, claiming that your quirk just wasn’t suited for the entrance exam, how about you take a good look at yourself and ask if you really have what it takes.”

Izuku lifts his sleeve up, showing the horrible, jagged scar running down his forearm.

“I got this from one villain. Our teacher can cancel quirks with a single look and he nearly died. Mic-sensei is one of the most versatile heroes when it comes to ranges, and he nearly died. Snipe-sensei can control where his bullets land, yet he was nearly killed by the very bullets he fired. Thirteen-sensei can create blackholes and they nearly died. Even All Might struggled. And you think it was fun? Why don’t you start lifting before you start spitting?”

With that, he pushes through the crowd, Ochako and Tenya following after him. Ochako sends Shinsou a mighty glare as she walks past, making his face scrunch up as she did.

Behind the crowd, Neitou barks out a laugh at Shinsou's face, and walks the other way with 1-B at his side.

-

Calling In:

Chobatsu Osamu, the disciplinary leader in the student council, notices a student speaking quietly into a phone, eyes darting around the place.

He can't hear the conversation on either line, only hearing the student in fragments.

"I know..."

"That's not-!"

"... But I didn't-"

Suspicion arose, and he walked to the staff office. The teachers turned to him as he entered, but he simply turned to Mic. "I would like some advice for English," he lies, and Mic understands immediately.

They walk out together, their voices low as Osamu informs him of the conversation he overhead.

-

Notes:

You can probably guess where I'm heading with Mic, if you couldn't tell where it was going in the previous update

I'm alive, don't worry, and I will get to asks as soon as I have the motivation to do them. Sorry for anyone who's been waiting for the answers

Shinsou pisses me off so much :)

Conclusion:

Students pick hero names here to avoid real names being used during the Sports Festival

Shinsou gets called out by Izuku, Mina and Denki

The Student Council picks up on suspicious activity. This is not reported to Midnight, but to Mic

[lifblogs]

To Worship the Stars

Week 9 Prompt: "Hold still." Alt. Prompt: Stargazing Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 2655 Summary: Phee drags Tech to one of Pabu's beaches at nighttime under false pretenses and ends up surprising him with a date to watch the stars together. Tech doesn't quite understand stargazing, but he begins to. Author's Note: I wanted this to be rated G, but these two said that wasn't allowed. READ ON AO3

“Phee,” Tech began, eyeing the empty beach lit by moonlight, the sand seeming to almost glow as it reached the waves, their dancing edges outlined in silver and white, “I don’t see any stranded sea creatures anywhere.”

She was holding his arm near his wrist. Tech had left his datapad with the Marauder, not wanting to risk getting sand in it during what he thought would be some type of rescue mission.

He glanced at her, seeing her lovely, dark features outlined by moonlight.

She turned to him, poking him on the nose, and he pulled his head back in surprise.

“That’s because there aren’t any.”

Tech was glad when she let go of him because then he could cross his arms—which he did.

“Then what are we doing here? What was your plan? Drag me here under false pretenses, and then…?”

Phee rolled her eyes, grabbing him again, and taking him for a walk along the sand.

“You  don’t need to be so serious about it. What, are you interrogating  me?”

Tech sniffed, the salt air almost soothing somehow, and then pushed his goggles further up his nose. “Do I have to?”

Phee leaned in, voice lowering as she asked, “Do you want to?”

“Um…”

She laughed and Tech felt heat coloring his cheeks.

She stood in front of him, putting a warm, calloused hand to his cheek.

“You’re cute when you blush.”

A thumb ran along his cheekbone, and Tech felt himself blushing even more.

Usually Tech’s mind was quite faster than everyone else’s, which let him think before he spoke, yet somehow this time he found words tumbling from his mouth unbidden, “You look beautiful in the moonlight.”

Phee laughed, and Tech couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face.

“So what am I really here for?” he asked, hoping he could get a straight answer out of her. Sometimes Tech worried she was too playful for him, but that wonder and playfulness was something he thoroughly enjoyed, which often took him by surprise.

“Why don’t you look up?” she said, taking his chin, and tilting his head upwards.

He tried to look down at her as she did this, but then let his eyes follow where she was leading.

“All I see are stars.” Stars in a cloudless night, to be exact.

She gave him a bit of a squeeze that made him laugh a little, and she shook his face.

“Oh, you’re no fun.”

“Pardon?”

She let him lower his face back down, and hers was so close now that he could feel her warm breath on his skin, realized he had felt it against his throat as he had looked upward.

“Don’t you ever want to take a break and watch the stars?” she asked.

“No, I am quite familiar with them, and often plot courses between them.”

She let go of his face, and tapped his chest. “I was right, you really are no fun.”

“Fine,” he relented. “How do I… be more fun?”

“Gaze at the stars with me, silly.”

Phee let her hand drift lightly down his torso till she was holding one of his hands. “Come on, I know a really good spot.”

Tech followed her through the sand, his eye catching here and there on sea glass reflecting moonlight and starlight, or bits of shells rubbed smooth and silvery by wind and water.

He wanted to examine many of them, but didn’t think Phee would like being held up when she had a plan in mind.

She took him over to a sandy hill dotted with coarse yellow-green grass, past some rocky cliffs and overhangs, and started to go through her bag. Tech had indeed been wondering what was in there.

Phee laid down a woven blanket that looked blue-black in the night, settled on it, and patted the spot beside her.

Tech sat down, and she started taking out what looked like a dessert of some kind kept safe in wrappers.

“Do you have a lamp in there?” he asked, starting to poke around in her bag, which she grabbed away from him.

“Why would I pack a lamp? I’m not spoiling all this starlight.”

Tech had felt something, so he took the bag back, giving her a bland look as he took out a lamp they could light up by touching a switch.

“That’s in case of emergencies, big brain,” she said, taking it back.

“My brain is a normal size, I’ll have you know.”

Phee laughed, and the sweet sound of it made him feel lighter. She started unwrapping the dessert.

“What are those?” Tech asked. Since being on Pabu he was getting used to all interesting sorts of foods, and found he enjoyed them much more than rations.

“I got some lemon meringue cake from Shep.”

He started imagining the flavor, wondering if his idea was accurate, and wanting to taste it to find out.

A rolled slip of flimsi fell from one of the wrappers, and Tech grabbed it before Phee could.

Thankfully the night sky was clear, and he had just enough light to make out words that had him blushing again.

“Come on, you gotta tell me what that says.”

Tech cleared his throat. “Erm… Have fun on your date,” he read. “It’s signed Lyana.”

Phee sputtered, and started laughing, and Tech did the same, but was unable to take his eyes off Phee. He loved seeing her carefree like this, had watched her unwind, the rougher parts of her pirate persona washing away the longer she stayed on Pabu. Tech wondered if a similar thing was happening to him. He’d never had a home like this before. If… if it could even be a home for him.

Phee passed him his dessert, and a fork, but Tech didn’t try a first bite until he watched her take hers, feeling a tad flushed at the pleased sound she let out.

Tech tried his, a light, tangy flavor bursting along his tongue, the creaminess filling his mouth with a simple sweetness.

“This is quite good,” he commented.

“I’ll let Shep and Lyana know.”

Tech lowered his gaze, something akin to embarrassment swirling in his stomach, and tugging upwards along his shoulders, at the mention of the child who assumed they were on a date.

Though, Tech didn’t mind the idea of being on a date with Phee; they’d just never used that word for their time together before.

Tech was going to take another bite, but Phee warned, “Hold on. Hold still.”

“What is it?” he asked.

Phee looked like she was trying not to laugh as she leaned in, and rubbed her thumb against his cheek near the corner of his mouth.

There was cream on it when she pulled back.

“Kriff, I smeared it. Gimme a second.”

She quickly ate the cream off her finger, Tech saying, “Hey, that was mine,” before she wiped it along his face again.

“This is hopeless.”

“I’m not that much of a mess.”

Phee showed him her thumb, which still had cream on it.

“I have an idea.”

“Oh?”

She didn’t share, but instantly showed him instead. Her lips pressed against his cheek, the corner of his mouth, tongue coming out to get the cream off before sucking slightly.

He pulled back slightly in surprise, and she put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hold still,” she murmured, words hot against his skin.

Tech found himself breathing heavy, lips parted, and Phee’s mouth found its way over to his. She tasted of lemon, cream, and sugar, and Tech left his dessert in his lap to put a hand in her hair to pull her closer to him.

He let out a pleased sound at the way their lips moved together. It wasn’t their first kiss, but they were still new at this. Well, Tech was newer at it than she was, he assumed.

He grinned as Phee pulled back, and she asked. “What are you smiling about?”

Tech quickly swiped his pointer finger through the top of the cake in his lap, then rubbed it all over her nose. She pulled back with a shocked guffaw, his finger brushing her lips.

“Oh, so you think you know how to be fun now,” she teased, wiping the cream off her face onto the back of her hand.

“As a matter of fact, I am quite fun.”

“Sure,” she said, her tone a clear challenge.

Tech rose to that challenge, and grabbed the back of her neck, leaning in to lick the cream off her nose. He soon followed by kissing her hard on the mouth.

She leaned into it, moaning into him, Tech was so new to all of this that he found his gut—and lower—beginning to ache already. Well, that wasn’t exactly what he wanted to happen.

Thankfully Phee took care of that by patting his cheek, slathering it in cream.

Tech pulled back, instinctively wiping at it, laughing.

Then he realized something.

“You didn’t bring napkins, did you?”

She shrugged, seeming a bit apologetic. “I forgot.”

“Then this only seems fair.”

“What?”

Tech took a big clump of cream from his dessert and smeared it across her face.

Then he dug in, pretending he hadn’t just done that. Besides, this was delicious, and he didn’t want all of his food on Phee’s face, or his own.

“I hate you,” Phee laughed out.

At first the words confused Tech, but the laugh told him she didn’t mean it, that she was joking. Besides, he knew what hate looked like, and Phee wasn’t that.

He attempted to finish his dessert in peace, Phee letting him do so a bit, but cream did end up on his throat at one point, and he hadn’t been able to help the moan he’d let out at that. He nearly pulled back from embarrassment. So far their noises had been quieter, hummed into each other’s mouths. This was louder than he had wanted it to be.

They finished dessert, cleaning up a bit in the waves (while Phee seemed to barely resist the urge to splash him), then laid down on the blanket together. Phee held his hand, but he was fidgeting a bit, eyes not quite on the stars, thinking far ahead. The Empire…

“Relax,” she told him, bringing him back to the present.

Tech let in a big breath, and sighed, gaze traveling towards the sky. The stars really were beautiful like this, he supposed. He knew what they looked like up close, how life-giving and deadly they were. To see them far, far away, like small dots of white and bright blue shining down on him, while he lay beside Phee, it made him feel very small. Not in a bad way like he had felt daily against the might of the Empire, but just… human.

The waves shushed against the sand, the stars shone down, and Tech gripped Phee’s hand tighter for a moment, his movements stilling.

“It’s… different like this,” he admitted, surprised at the calm he felt rushing over him. And with the softness of the sand against him, Tech felt like he could drift away if he wished, drift away from the life he knew as a soldier, drift into… this, into what he had with Phee.

“Aren’t they beautiful?”

“They are.”

Her hand reached up, painting a trail across the sky.

“I didn’t start traveling to be a pirate,” she said. “I guess I liked being up there, with them. I know it’s a big galaxy, but sometimes I wish I could see them all.”

A blooming warmth, juxtaposed by tight sorrow, grew in Tech’s chest, as he turned to Phee, admitting, “I feel the same.” He loved being able to fly to where he needed to, loved knowing his family was safe with him when he flew because he would never let them get hurt, but he also liked what he could see. Sure, so many worlds and moons blurred together from the war, and afterwards, but when he had a rare moment to slow down, to realize that each planet was different—and therefore—special, he enjoyed it, and he had realized the same of the sky. Each sky was different, something new to learn, to strive for.

Phee squeezed Tech’s hand now, and they lay there, watching the stars, imagining their majesty up close as they burned and were born and died.

Tech hadn’t realized he’d been dozing, but suddenly it seemed he was blinking his awake, the stars in different positions, the moon higher.

Phee was resting against his chest.

The wind was a bit stronger than it had been, and Tech felt goosebumps race up along him, starting with his legs. Not wanting Phee to get cold, her stroked her face, saying, “We should head back.”

She shivered slightly against him, but groaned, “Five more minutes?”

“Wouldn’t you like to be in a bed?” he asked.

“Are you offering?” she teased.

Tech just huffed, shaking his head at her, and resting back, watching the stars for a few minutes. He rubbed her back, hardly noticing he was doing it. He just wanted to move his hands. His other hand was grasping at sand, and releasing it, loving how it felt in his fingers, against his palm.

His other hand reached up, ghosting over her hair.

“You can touch it, you know,” she told him, still lying against his chest.

“I didn’t want to be—”

“Rude?”

“Presumptuous.”

Tech was careful with putting his hand in her hair, not wanting to pull at any loose strands, or tug too hard at a loc.

Her hair was soft in a way he hadn’t really felt before: smooth, and plush despite the way it was twisted as if by an expert hand (perhaps hers). It felt better than the sand his other hand fiddled with.

Only the stars watched them as Tech pulled her into a kiss.

“Are you trying to wake me up?”

“Is it working?” he asked, going along with her words, not entirely sure what his intention had actually been.

“Yes. But oh gosh, we should head back. It’s getting late.”

“It is.”

“We’ll be lucky if Hunter hasn’t sent a search party after us,” she joked.

“No search party necessary,” Tech said. “He’s the search party.”

They laughed together, and Tech loved feeling her laughter as she lay against, her breaths comforting, and alive, her heart beating near his.

Despite the logic of heading back before it got too late and too cold down here with the wind, Tech regretted when Phee got off of him. He shivered at the absence of her solid warmth, but let her help him to his feet.

She packed up, and he almost felt remorseful at leaving that spot, glancing at the stars to remind himself they were still there. Their constancy in the sky gave him some hope for more time with Phee, that he would see these stars again, with her, and even with his family. This could be their home.

Phee walked Tech back to the Marauder at the top of the island. They said their goodbyes, and for some reason Tech found himself inhaling sharply. He took her hand, Phee turning back to him, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“That was a good… date,” he told her, pausing at the newness of the word and its meaning in his life.

Phee came closer, leaning into him, grasping his face.

“I’ll tell Lyana you said that.”

She kissed him goodbye, and as she left, Tech wondered how much more time he could have with her. With the fight against the Empire, it always felt like he was working on borrowed time.

The stars looked down on Tech, like shining guardians in the sky, and in that moment, he could finally understand why some cultures worshipped them.

[atla-animal-of-the-week]

Week 9

how atla animal of the week works

reblogs appreciated so more can vote!

[strictlycomedancers]

Tasha & Aljaz | Paso Doble - Torn, Nathan Lanier

Score: 9,10,10,10 (39)

[kissesforjoeyb]

i love football

[dangraccoon]

Invitations

Week 9 ~ "your hands are freezing" ~ bonfire ~

Word Count: 2475 Content: party, alcohol, flirting, Echo is aroace in this one

@clone-wars-winter-challenge

Mando'a Guide: jetii - jedi osi'kyr - a strong exclamation of surprise or dismay

You hadn’t thought that the wild pack of men that had piled into your office a week ago would’ve organized well enough to complete all the necessary and repetitive forms needed to get what they wanted, yet here you sat at your desk with the permit–clearly marked “approved”–pulled up on your computer.

You chuckled to yourself, tapping the button on your desk for the intercom.

“Andrel? Can you comm the commander of the Coruscant Guard for a meeting?” you requested. “Fox, I think his name was.”

The line was quiet for a moment. “Really?” your assistant murmured.

“What– yes, really,” you said.

“No, like do you actually need to talk to him?”

You huffed in disbelief. “Yes, I do–”

The door to your office slid open, revealing the young Mirialan, moving quickly to sit on the edge of your desk. He leaned in, almost conspiratorially.

“I heard from some of the other assistants about him,” he whispered. “They said–”

“Andrel,” you groaned, hands rising to massage your temples. Your assistant was like a little brother to you; yes, you loved him, but he had an uncanny ability to find and press all your buttons. 

“No, I’m serious!” he protested. “They said he’s prickly! He’s got a bad attitude and he’s grouchy and terse and rude!”

“Andrel, I’m not going to avoid the meeting I should be having with him just because some of your friends said he’s an asshole,” you sighed. “I’m a middle management cog in the endless wheels of Coruscanti bureaucracy. I need to do my job.”

Andrel fixed you with a confused and slightly judging look–one you’d usually give to someone making a scene in public–but returned to his own desk with a shake of his head. 

A few moments later your intercom dinged. 

“Line one, boss,” Andrel hummed. 

 “Thank you,” you sighed, tapping the button. 

“Commander Fox?” you greeted. 

“What can I do for you?”

You could hear that the voice was the same as the few other clones you’d met, but this voice held the smallest hint of a growl like raxshir was waiting to pounce behind each word. It also sounded–to be blunt–tired.

“Well, Commander, I’m not sure how to tell you this,” you murmured in the voice you reserved for the various coworkers and other office workers you typically dealt with. “But I think I’m about to make your day a little worse.”

The Commander chuckled humorlessly. “Would you be surprised to learn that very few people actually can?”

“My assistant mentioned what office I’m calling from, right?”

“He did,” Commander Fox hummed. “Not sure what the Head of the Coruscant Department of Public Event Permitting could want from me.”

“Well, I had a visit from a few troopers last week,” you started.

From the other end of the comm, you could hear something hit against something else with a faint clunk followed by a long sigh. “Maker, please tell me they weren’t mine?”

“I can’t say I’m fully versed on the different colors they were sporting, but there was a pair in red who seemed to be in charge of the…” you trailed off as you thought. “The… gaggle? Herd? What do you call a group of somewhat unorganized troopers?”

“A ‘clusterfuck’,” he offered, somehow sounding more tired than when your conversation began. “Who’s on your forms?”

“Um, let’s see…” you scanned through the documents until you came across the ‘organizers’ field. “Looks like they’ve got CT-4477 and–huh, that’s funny– CT-7744 as the event’s main organizers. But, like I told them last week, they are not recognized as citizens by the Republic–ridiculous and… frankly, horrifying as that is–so they’ve got… Obi-Wan Kenobi and Bail Organa signed on as the official sponsors.”

The line was quiet again. You could hear another clunk, followed by the shuffle of footsteps and a door sliding open.

“Thire! Thorn! My office in ten minutes or I will kill you myself!”

You stifled a laugh as the footsteps returned.

“My apologies,” Commander Fox said, his tone sounding nearly exhausted. “What exactly is it they’re planning?”

“That’s why I’m calling,” you said. “Would you believe me if I told you that they managed to correctly fill out all of the datawork to host a bonfire outside of 79s?”

Once again, you were met with silence.

“Honestly, I’m just impressed they had all of the correct forms and that everything was filled in correctly on the first try,” you continued. “That’s less common than you would think.”

“You said Kenobi is somehow involved in this?” the Commander half-groaned. 

“Yes, he’s signed as one of the sponsors–”

Fox sighed. “Not only did two of my commanders organize all of this, no doubt pulling in their buddies from other units, but they got my twin to do the datawork and his General to sign off on it all.” He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “Thank you for the heads-up. It would be a great help if you could forward the forms and permits to my office; it’s going to be impossible to organize the guard that night.”

“Not a problem, Commander,” you hummed, eyeing your assistant as the doors slid open. “I’ll send that right over.”

“Thank you… I– I’m sorry, I don’t recall your name.”

You chuckled lightly, reminding him as Andrel smirked.

Fox thanked you again, this time by name and with another apology.

You smiled at the comm unit on your desk after the call ended.

“So you’re going, right?” Andrel grinned wickedly, the geometric tattoos shifting across his skin.

You blinked up at him. “Going?”

“To the clone bonfire! I know for a fact that at least some of these men are exactly your type.”

You whacked his arm. “I don’t have a type!”

“Yes, you do,” he laughed. “You like the grumpy ones–broody and mysterious.”

You could feel your cheeks warming. “No–”

“You do! Remember when we were at that fundraising event with… oh which ones were they… ah– the 104th! Didn’t you go home with that commander with the cybernetic eye?”

You were certain your face was redder than the Guard’s armor. “I didn’t ‘go home’ with him; he walked me home!”

“Sure, hun,” Andrel said. “Anyway, you should go!”

You sighed. “I don’t think this is something they’d want… people like us at, you know? Would they really want to hang out with a… not-clone bureaucrat?”

“I know they would because a couple of them stopped by to let us know they received the permit and thank us for helping them by inviting us to the party.”

Kriff.

-

Two weeks later, you wrapped your jacket tighter around you as the chilly updraft from the traffic pushed against you. You’d never been to this section of Coruscant, but you could tell you had the right level as you gradually saw more clones and fewer other people–‘natborns’, Andrel’s new boyfriend had explained to you–in the crowds around you. 

You could hear the cheers and laughter of similar voices as you approached, followed closely by the smell of cheap beer. It almost reminded you of attending university.

“There you are!” Andrel called, pushing through the crowds with his boyfriend and another clone in tow. He thrust a disposable cup of some kind of drink into your hands. “You remember Fives, right?”

The trooper, whom you’d only seen in armor, gave you a crooked grin. “Good to see you again,” he said.

“You too,” you smiled, taking a sip from the cup. 

“This is Echo, my twin,” he said, gesturing to the poor trooper who looked like he’d rather be just about anywhere else. 

“Nice to meet you,” you said. 

Echo gave a nod. “And you.”

“Echo here is an ARC Trooper,” Andrel whispered loudly, wrapping his arm around you. “And he’s single!”

Echo also looked like he wanted to melt into the ground. You gave him a sympathetic smile. 

You couldn’t help the face you made as the alcohol burned your throat. “Maker,” you panted. “The hell is that?”

“Jungle juice,” Fives grimaced. “Don’t worry, they’ve got other drinks inside.”

“We are going to be dancing,” Andrel laughed, his cheeks and nose a deeper green than normal. He was definitely a few rounds in. “Go get a drink with Echo and then find me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved them off, chuckling.

Echo was polite but quiet and as soon as your well-meaning assistant and his kindhearted brother were out of sight, you saw him visibly relax a bit. 

“Listen, you’re very nice, but–”

“I’m not your ‘type’, right?” you finished for him. 

Echo sighed softly. “Sort of,” he admitted. “It’s more like I don’t have a type– no, that’s–” he huffed. “I’m not interested in… any of that,” he shrugged, quickly adding “Not that I think you wouldn’t be a lovely person to– ah, it’s just that I don’t really– does any of this make sense?”

You smiled. “I understand, Echo. You haven’t hurt my feelings or anything.”

The tension eased from his body, but only for a brief moment as he gazed into the crowd. 

“What’s wrong?”

Echo sighed heavily. “I’ve got to go wrangle our shinies or at least one of them is going to the hospital or jail.”

“Yes, I think it’d be best if you intervene,” you laughed. 

He started to walk away but stopped, then turned on his heel to face you again. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “You ever need anything, the five-oh-first’s got your back.”

You smiled, and shooed him off, then wove through the crowds until you found the bar, which was less packed to your relief. 

“What can I get vor you?” the twi’lek bartender asked as she threw a towel over her shoulder.

“Can you make a Hyperdrive?” you asked.

She nodded and set about her work, quickly mixing the drink and placing it before you. You set a few credits on the bar and nodded your thanks.

A clone sat a couple of seats over from you. “Hey Teva,” he greeted the bartender. “Didn’t know you worked weekends.”

“Ah, Vox!” she half-shouted with a smile. “Just zhis once vor zhe party. You want your usual?”

The clone nodded. And you snuck a glance at him. Something struck you as familiar, but you couldn’t quite place why beyond the obvious.

“Fox!” Another clone shouted, his hands landing roughly on the other’s shoulder. “You don’t come out with us often enough!” Wait, Fox? You started to wonder if this could be the same commander–whose voice you hadn’t been able to get out of your head since speaking to him last week–but you were quickly answered as the clone spoke again. That same tone, rolling like thunder that you’d heard over the comm met your ears. 

“Bly,” Fox grumbled. “I swear to every deity of every planet in the galaxy, if you don’t let me get at least one drink alone, I will tell General Secura about the dream you told me about.”

The pair bickered back and forth, but you found you couldn’t make out most of it as you simply stared at Fox.

He wasn’t quite what you were expecting. Obviously, he still looked like the other clones, but as you met more of them, you couldn’t help but notice the differences between them. 

His hair was a mess of short, dark curls, streaked with a grey that most of the others you had met didn’t have. A light scar stretched across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. You couldn’t deny that it was attractive to you, nor how you found yourself fighting the impulse to run your fingers through it. 

“What brings you to the clone bar?  Especially with all that nonsense outside,” his voice broke you from your thoughts. You hadn’t noticed that he’d shifted one seat closer to you; not far away, but not too close–though it still quickened your heartbeat. 

You cleared your throat. “I was invited to the party, actually.”

Fox scoffed. “Poor soul.”

About a hundred possible responses flew through your mind, but nothing landed in your mouth, so you chased the silence down with a few sips of your drink. 

After a moment, Fox huffed quietly. “This is going to sound weird, but you sound familiar to me.”

You grinned. “We’ve talked,” you said, surprising yourself with your coyness. 

One of Fox’s eyebrows quirked up. “That so?” 

As you smiled into your drink, he dropped the number of stools between you from four to three. 

“Let’s see,” he drawled. “I don’t think you work at the senate.”

“What, I don’t look senatorial?” you gasped with mock disbelief. 

Fox chuckled and smirked. Damn, you thought. That shouldn’t be that cute.

“I’ve met almost all of the senators,  I know you’re not one of them. And at the risk of sounding like a jetii, you don’t have the right… energy for an aide.”

“Oh? What energy is that?”

“They’re almost always either frantic or pompous,” he shrugged as he moved so only one seat sat between you. “So you’re not from the senate.”

“I’m not from the senate,” you confirmed with a grin. 

“I haven’t met you in person, so obviously you’ve never been booked through the station,” he smirked.

You chuckled. “What makes you think you haven’t met me in person?”

“I never forget a face,” he shrugged, taking a long drink from his glass. “And one like yours? Definitely not.”

You felt your cheeks warm. “I commed you about the party,” you finally admitted. 

Fox smirked. “Damn, that was my next guess.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you chuckled.

“So you decided to take the boys up on their invite?”

“It was more to appease my assistant more than anything else,” you hummed. “I’m surprised you’re not on duty; you made it sound like it would be all hands.”

“I might not be on shift in an official capacity, but anyone who knows who I am knows to behave while I’m looking,” he scoffed into his drink. “They’re good guys, but you add that… jungle whatever monstrosity they’ve mixed up out there…”

“I'm sure,” you said. “Hopefully, they’ll hold off long enough so I can get out of here before the chaos begins.”

Fox eyed you and quickly finished his drink. “I know a way to make sure you get away before it.”

“Really?”

Fox nodded, leaning toward you conspiratorially. “Here’s the plan: you finish your drink, and then we go anywhere else,” he smirked, his eyes burning into yours with the intensity of a sun. You felt your heart jolt as he reached toward you, laying one of his gloved hands over yours. “Would that–Osi'kyr!” His hand jerked, but he didn’t pull it away. “Your hands are freezing!”

You laughed. “It’s windy and I lost my gloves,” you explained.

“Yeah, alright,” Fox scoffed. “We’re going somewhere inside then.”

Mando'a Guide: jetii - jedi osi'kyr - a strong exclamation of surprise or dismay

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Week Nine: Chapters 40-44

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