#clone flight crew

[autismmydearwatson]

The more I watch Rebels, the more I begin to appreciate that the liberation of Lothal was a miracle of nothing less than Biblical proportions.

How many people were involved? Ten, fifteen maximum? One of the first of a new generation of Jedi, a Lasat survivor, an Imperial turned Rebel, a Mandalorian and her girlfriend, a pilot and her sicko astromech, a pirate, that kid whose name i forgor, an Ugnaught, and three clone veterans? There's NO way they should have succeeded in completely purging the planet of Imperial presence, but they DID.

They trapped every Imp in the dome by virtue of deception, launched THE Grand Admiral Thrawn into oblivion by making friends with mystical space whales, blasted every Imperial into ashes, and freed Lothal in the span of a few hours with only thirteen people and about two dozen star whales. And because this was only a year or so before the Battle of Yavin, the Empire didnt have the strength to try and take back the planet. This was a feat comparable in my mind to the Maccabean revolt, and now because of Ezras sacrifice and the Ghost crews efforts, Ezras homeworld was freed. The citizens of Lothals capital watched the flight of glowing purrgil and a rain of fire falling from the sky, and they were ALIVE and free.

And they didn't even use the help of the Rebel Alliance, they didn't do it for the Rebellion! They did it for LOTHAL, and if it weren't for Ezras love for his land he may NEVER have had the guts to do it, to refuse Palpatines temptation, to tell Thrawn to stick it, to yeet himself into the unknown cosmos, or to give up everything for his land God damn it God fucking damn it I feel sick

[authortobenamedlater]

E3 deep dive, brought to you by illness and cold medicine, you are warned.

I maybe should start just doing the highs and lows of each episode, because these take forever to write and I’m not sure how interesting they are for the rest of you. I was going to do highs and lows at the end of this post but it got too long.

We open up with Silver Team going rogue at Visegrad Relay, looking for their Cobalt comrades. It’s becoming increasingly clear that not only is this mission off the books, but John hasn’t told his team this. Not great for unit cohesion, Master Chief.

The base is eerily empty and there’s a rhythmic thumping sound. The Covenant? No, just a door opening and closing. Somehow that doesn’t feel much less scary.

Instead of the Covenant, we meet a swarm of Marines led by an impressively gutsy and likely ONI officer who puts herself between Silver Team and the ominously thumping door. She accuses John of stealing a Condor and falsifying a flight plan. This is news to the rest of Silver. John doesn’t care and barges through the door expecting to find Cobalt. He finds a whole lot of nothing. This doesn’t look like a cover-up at all, nope.

Next we whiplash to Ackerson having a touching and mundane moment with his father, who’s senile but not so far gone he doesn’t know he’s senile. Evidently Ackerson has been spilling classified information to his dad. In light of everything else going on, that’s pretty far down on Ackerson’s list of misdeeds. We also learn that “Julia” the mysterious flash clone was Ackerson’s sister. Why did he clone a bunch of her for Halsey? Ackerson Sr. reminds his son “You promised not to let them [the Covenant, presumably] take me alive.” Once again, nothing ominous here.

Then we have Dadmiral Keyes dressing down his overgrown children for ripping through the UCMJ like it’s wet toilet paper. You also get the feeling Keyes is getting squeezed into this and has information he should have shared with Silver, but was ordered not to. John asks if Ackerson is behind this, and everyone knows the answer but can’t say it.

John’s team is rightly furious with him for lying to them. Kai at least tries to reason with him but John’s not hearing it. The audience knows John is right and the UNSC-ONI machine is gaslighting him into thinking he doesn’t see what he knows he’s seeing. However, he’s still being a jerk about it and turning his own people against him. He doesn’t help his case when he mops the floor with his ONI babysitters like Steve Rogers taking out the Hydra guys in The Winter Soldier elevator scene.

Laera is trying to escape the Rubble and go after Soren, only to get wrapped up in Soren’s crew’s plot to steal the “Madrigal money.” Kwan continues to prove herself both useless and useful. With Madrigal glassed now, one has to wonder what role Kwan has to play. At the same time, she’s tough and resourceful, I have to give her that. She also tries to do what’s right. She knew Laera would die and went to rescue her, probably thinking she could reunite mother and son at some point but mom has to be alive for that to happen.

Laera, too, shows herself to be more than just a pretty face, resisting Antares’s interrogation even with a gun to her head. And the part where she says “I can usually reason with my husband” 🤣 it takes a real woman to hang with Soren-066. Plus, Laera always looks fabulous! I want to look that good if I ever get shoved in an airlock.

Got ahead of myself there, but some things work best tackled as a big chunk.

Riz seems to be increasingly disenchanted with Spartan life, not that I can blame her after how John treated her last week. Never mind that she’s been in constant pain for six months. She ends up at Louis’s place where we learn he and Danilo the PT are married. Riz asks Louis what “other things” there are to be besides a Spartan. We don’t get the rest of the conversation, but it looks like Riz might be getting ready to jump ship. She may find her options more limited once Reach falls, though.

Back at the ranch, we discover what actually happened to Cobalt. They were in fact at Visegrad, and ran into the Covenant. We don’t know if this happened before or after Silver Team showed up, but it confirms what we all thought: There’s some conspiracy to keep Covenant activity on Reach under wraps.

Keyes is clearly distraught over the four (remarkably intact) bodies in the morgue. THE DADMIRAL LOVES HIS OVERGROWN EMOTIONALLY STUNTED SPARTAN CHILDREN I am not taking questions on this. The exchange between him and Ackerson here is top-tier. When Ackerson tells Keyes to leave and Keyes says “I won’t run”? I don’t think you’re going to be in season 3, Jacob.

Kai goes to Ackerson, who admires her for defending her “CO.” John isn’t her “commanding officer.” He’s not an officer. I don’t know what they’d call him, though. “Your team leader”? I won’t bug you all with nitpicking terminology. Kai is so stir crazy that she asks to be deployed alone until John is cleared for combat. This, I suspect, is how she ends up with the S-IIIs.

John takes his concerns to Parangosky, who to the surprise of no one, has not really left ONI. He tells her the Covenant is on Reach and no one is listening to him. Parangosky doesn’t give him the help he’s looking for. She tells him to go back to FLEETCOM and lay low, and she’s brought a cadre of spooks to ensure his compliance. This does not placate the increasingly agitated Master Chief.

Ackerson visits Halsey in holo-jail and gives her a speech about how she made the Spartans “fragile” by implanting those pellets. He tells her that “these things [she] made, broken as they may be” will be the foundation for something greater. I suspect this is the Spartan-III program. It’s also what Adun says to Halsey’s clone right before he kills her and dissolves her in acid.

Then the bomb drops: Julia, Ackerson’s sister, was a Spartan who died from the augmentations. Suddenly everything about Ackerson makes sense.

But the bombs aren’t done dropping. Ackerson leaves, then walks back in with none other than Soren-066. He tells Halsey “I didn’t want you to be alone” and walks out. Halsey looks legit TERRIFIED when she sees Soren.

Finally, John goes to see Talia and finds her in church. I’m going Gaga over the religious references this year, you all don’t even know. Talia has a recording of the “interference” on Sanctuary, which we find out is also a prayer offered by the Arbiter not named Thel ‘Vadam, stating his intention to offer Reach as a burnt offering and place the Demon’s head on the altar.

While Talia is translating the prayer, we see a montage that notably shows us Ackerson giving his father a pill, probably cyanide, reiterating his promise that he wouldn’t let the Covenant take his dad alive. He tells his father “I have to go away” which is the third time he’s said as much in two episodes. As he’s walking out, Ackerson brings in a final Julia clone, and his dad thinks he’s seeing his little girl one last time. A teary-eyed Ackerson walks out, and the next time we see him he’s strapped into a troop transport. Going where, we wonder?

Then an explosion shatters the church’s windows and the episode ends.

All this sets us up for…next week it’s all going down.

[firefly-fez]

okay no but i want an echo and ahsoka reunion so badly. it’s been years of war and tragedy since they’ve last seen each other but it would be a reminder - to both of them - that rex is not the only surviving friend they have from the old days in the 501st. just look at it from echo’s perspective. the 501st had completely changed by the time he came back from skako minor. they’d lived through so many hellish missions without him. umbara, kiros, ringo vinda, fives. he never put the handprint back on his armour after the citadel. do you ever think about that? how he survived against all odds to come back to the news that the only surviving batchmate who was there to witness the habit that earned him his name, was dead.

When Rex put that handprint on his armour on the Rishi moon, it’s when he told Echo he was a shiny. He kept it there, painting it on, as a reminder of the mission that made him a soldier - a reminder that he wasn’t a shiny anymore, a reminder of Cutup, Hevy and Droidbait, his fallen batchmates. After the citadel, after fives, when he gets his new armour, he hovers his hand over the chest plate and he just can’t do it. Everything is gone. He’s not that man anymore. SO many of his brothers are dead, and when he joins the bad batch, leaving Rex, there’s no one around to notice the handprint is missing, not really, So he leaves it off, he lets that part of him die with his fallen brothers.

I can imagine Ahsoka, particularly in her younger years, would entertain herself on long hyperspace flights or camp-outs by asking the clones why they chose their name. She wasn’t there, she isn’t one of the people who picked it out. By the time Echo was assigned to the 501st, he’d dropped the habit. But he told her about it, because she was small and scared and bored and kind and a friend. As a young padawan, Ahsoka relied on her men to help her navigate the parts of war her jedi training left her unprepared to face, and after he told her the story, she’d always get Echo to repeat the next stage of orders to her to keep her mind focused on the mission.

When they reunite after order 66, it’s almost hard for him to tell whether she’s just playing dumb to keep her cover intact or if she genuinely doesn’t remember him. He hasn’t seen her since the citadel, after all, and...he does look pretty different. He’s not sure if she recognises him. She does, of course. When she inevitably reveals her jedi nature to the rest of the crew, and they dive head-first into some crusade against the empire together, it feels just like old times. They both thought they’d lost this, but it’s still here, surviving. She asks him to repeat the orders to her, keep track of the stages of the plan just like he used to. He confesses he almost thought she didn’t recognise him, and she’s practically offended at the thought. But she senses the insecurity, the grief, the loss, behind it. She jokes around with him, to ease the burden. They’re both knee-deep in some foul-smelling staining spillage leaking out from the ruined hardware around them. So she smiles and says well, how could you expect anyone to recognise you, and she dips her hand in the sludge and puts it to his chest...without the handprint. And he can’t help but laugh.

Because there is someone left to remember the handprint is missing. There is someone who recognises him, other than Rex, someone who knows why he chose his name. Most importantly, someone who survived because of Fives’ sacrifice.

And it’s not a reminder of loss anymore. It’s a statement that he’s known. That he is remembered. Whatever else he lost after the Citadel, however different he may be, physically, spiritually, emotionally, there is an imprint of everything that survived, still there, carried on his chest, in his heart. An imprint of everything that survived, of everyone who carried the fight this far, a promise of those who keep up the fight.

A reminder that he is known, that he is remembered - and that he, too, remembers.

[constantlymisspelled]

(Don’t mind me, just making a self-reference checklist for my clone encyclopedia, nothing to see here)

GAR

ARC CLASS

ARC

ARC MEDIC

ARC HEAVY INFANTRY

ALPHA

NULL

BARC / BIKER ARC / LANCER

NAVY / CC-CT CLASS

TROOPER / INFANTRY

LOGISTICS / SUPPLY

OFFICER

NAVIGATION OFFICER

CORPORAL

LIEUTENANT

SERGEANT

MAJOR

GRENADIER

GUNNER

MAINTENANCE TECH

FLIGHT CREW

COMMS TECH

COLD ASSAULT

HEAVY INFANTRY

COMMANDO CLASS

MARSHALL COMMANDER

CLONE COMMANDER

CAPTAIN

ENGINEER

PILOT

MEDIC

SNIPER

SCOUT

ARTILLERY

ARF CLASS

ARF

GUARD DETECT / SECURITY CORP / MASSIFF TROOPER

ORDNANCE / BOMB UNIT

SHADOW ARF

ARF SCOUT

MARINE / MEC CLASS

MARINE

AERIAL RECON

FLAME TROOPER

SPECIAL OPERATIONS

SCUBA (SUB)

JET UNIT

BLAZE / ZERO-G

PARATROOPER

[Certifiably insane at this point. But for some reason, I had to have a military that made sense for this single fanfic I wanted to write. Wack.

I'll hopefully add full scans to each unit type. It's all because I wanted to actually make a sensible military model, and design armour. I will hopefully also have options for phase 1, phase 2, and the theoretical phase 3 armour types.

This is the REDUCED Unit variety. The wiki, and what I can find from forums have even more unit types, but I can't see anything different regarding symbols, or kit, so this is the current list. For now.]

[clonefandomevents]

Announcing Specialist Bingo Card!

This month's new Bingo is a little different to the others, in that there are no prompts to choose from. Instead, it will be the 25 different specialties the clone troopers have, and to make a fill you will have to create something for the specific specialty. They can be oc's or canon clones, as long as they suit each category.

Specialties are:

Snow, Sand, Flame, Dive/Aqua, SpecOps, Slicer, Heavy Guns, ARC, ARF, Commando, Medic, Pilot, Maintenance, CommTech, Bridge Crew, Riot Trooper, Paratrooper, Bomb Squad, Flight Crew, Cadet, Mess Crew, Trainer, Officer, Security, Shiny.

[iamprchung]

The Spider and the FBI: Part 7 "Paradise Syndrome"

Synopsis by guest writer Jose Chung (written prior to his apparent death at the hands of the Nostradamus Nutball):

Now, grab your Stetsons, conspiracy cowboys, 'cause we're moseying on over to Elmo, Wyoming. Here, amidst the questionable barbeque and dazzling fireworks of the 4th of July festivities, we find Agent Scully embroiled in a situation more perplexing than a malfunctioning weather balloon.

In strides Sheriff Lawrence Durokoff, a man carved from the same government-issue granite as Assistant Director Skinner, only with a grin brighter than a chrome bumper on a brand-new pickup truck. Was it a case of cloning gone wrong? Or perhaps long-lost twins separated by, well, let's just say a misplaced birth certificate (we can delve into government conspiracies all day, but identical twins are a stretch even for this jaded scribe).

The truth, as always, is stranger than the wildest fan fiction. The undeniable spark between Scully and Sheriff Durokoff has tongues wagging about a future filled with calico dresses and prairie sunburns instead of chasing shadows in the bureaucratic labyrinth.  Is our favorite redhead about to trade her badge for a butter churn? Only time, and perhaps a strategically placed horseshoe (it's a small town, after all) will tell!

Notes: Yes, I sure did title this after a Star Trek episode.

"Paradise Syndrome"

Part VIII of "The Spider and the FBI"

by PR Chung

Preface/Notes:

Just reading through this, even after all these years, I recognize exactly where one of my very best friends and amazing author assisted with this story. I know her work is still out there somewhere as she was one of the originals in the X-Files fiction fandom, authoring stories that are still amazing. None other than the very talented Paula B. Her ability to turn a phrase cannot be surpassed, and it’s a joy to read passages I know she helped on.

*************************

Elmo, Wyoming July 4th

By the time she hung up the phone from her conversation with Mulder, Scully's hair was nearly dry from her shower. She got up from the bed and went to the window, drawing back the curtains of her hotel room to look out on the street below.

Nothing much had changed except for the layer of increasing smoke drifting up through the trees from the square. How many barbecues were going? She wondered. And what were they cooking? Burgers and hot dogs? Roasting corn snugly rolled in foil? Brisket and ribs, too?

Her stomach gurgled.

Trying to remember the last meal she'd eaten she turned to go check on her blouse. It was hanging to dry in the bathroom after a lame attempt to clean it in the porcelain basin. It was a very nice bathroom, just not very functional.

The entire room was very nice, as was the whole hotel. Small and quaint, just a few rooms sitting atop a gift shop and cafe. Heavy in small town charm and light on the amenities; a bed, chest of drawers, mirror, and nightstand. No television, no radio, and the phone had to be brought up specially for her room, as had the one taken into Skinner's room down the hall.

His would undoubtedly be of heavier use than hers she presumed as she touched the still damp fabric of her blue blouse. He wasn't pleased in the least about either the situation or the location, and he apparently wanted out as fast as humanly possible.

He had been on the phone at the Sheriff's station the entire time it took to get Bernstein squared away in the holding cell. There was nothing but skeleton crews of federal workers manning the phones in Denver and Salt Lake City. Calling Washington hadn't been much help either; apparently all he had gotten was an ear full of instructions to get Bernstein back there for trial- come hell or high water.

Sure, they could get a flight out of Laramie or Cheyenne in the morning or even tonight if they were lucky enough that the agents from the Casper field operation should show up. But things were looking ugly up there, suspicion of terrorism and arrests sparking upset among the jingoistic masses. It was just another unpleasant federal incident in the making.

Aside from becoming another bout of bad press for the bureau, this whole Casper thing had gummed up the works, delaying agents that Mulder had needed, and now, still, those she and Skinner needed.

Mulder could have gone forever, and would have, if she hadn't interrupted his denunciation of every federal employee he had dealt with during the last twenty-four hours. She could tell he hadn't slept by just the shear amount of information he was trying to pack into a single conversation followed by a spate of questions.

She was sure there would be more questions when he finally arrived in a few hours. After muttering something about manic helicopter pilots, he had said was going to drive to Elmo, which concerned her if he hadn't slept, but once Mulder was set on doing something there was generally no swaying him from it.

A sudden resonant sound of a band practicing drew her attention back to the street below her hotel window, where she caught sight of Sheriff Durokoff.

Self-consciously she took a step back from the window not wanting to be discovered in just her bra. At a careful distance from the window, she watched him across the street and stop there in the shade, talking pleasantly with others.

The sound started up again, a guitar... being tested on an amplifier. Curious, she searched through the trees trying to see, hearing the strong chords of a bluesy country-rock song she couldn't name being played by fits and starts.

The trees were just too thick. She couldn't see a thing and gave up and turned back to look at more interesting things— He was gone. The people he'd been talking to were still there, mulling around and talking, but Durokoff was gone.

Crap. She'd see more of him later, but it was unlikely she would get another chance to covertly study him at length, to examine the similarities between him and Skinner.

His cousin, she concerned. How bizarre, she thought and smiled. Of all the towns they should end up in, after all they had gone through, they just happen to hit the one tiny patch of earth containing another Skinner- or rather a Durokoff. Their mothers were sisters undoubtedly, or perhaps a remarriage had caused the difference in names. She analyzed the possible branches of genealogy.

Like an impression of the sun Durokoff's smile was emblazoned on her retinas. He wasn't the consummate small town, no non-sense Sheriff, all bluster, and intimidation when it came to federal involvement.

He didn't like Bernstein, and he had been to the point with the man, swiftly locking him away in the blunt bowels of the Elmo holding cells, but during the entire time at the Sheriff's station he had still managed to be cheerful and lighthearted. She thought she'd even seen him give her a quick wink at one point.

The un-Skinner, she thought and nearly laughed out loud.

Not completely, though, the similarities remained, and were so great in certain respects that she had found herself deferring to Durokoff the same as if he were Skinner. A certain turn of a phrase, a look, a motion, everything about him stirred an almost constant sense of surprise and amusement in her.

Two Skinner's could be a rather daunting concept for some, but it didn't seem like such a bad idea to her.

A solid knocking sounded at the door of her room yanked her out of that thought, audibly startling her.

"Agent Scully?" a muffled voice called through the door, concerns seeping through the woodgrain.

"Just a minute," she called, rushing to grab her top.

Lawrence Durokoff stood in the hall listening to the muffled scurrying sounds beyond the door, arched his brows. Perhaps she wasn't alone in there, he thought and glanced down the hall toward his cousin's room which he'd discovered was empty only a moment before he tried her room.

"Is there a problem?" Durokoff turned at the sound of Skinner's voice. He was coming down the hall from the stairs, his eyes pinched and his jaw set.

"No. No problem here." He answered taking a step back from the door to address Skinner. Well, he wasn't in there. So, what's going on?

The door jerked open suddenly, a flush faced Scully looked back at the two men. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, questions pooling.

"Uh, hi." She greeted the two of them, holding the hem of her blouse out and away from herself, it was still damp and almost transparent when it contacted her body. "Is something wrong?" She finally asked when neither one of them spoke.

“You two sure are shellshocked.” He commented, glancing amusedly between the two of them. “Nothing wrong,” he told her, and glanced at Skinner, “and no problems.”

Durokoff held out a small satchel to Scully. "I had one of the deputies gather some things together for you," he explained as she took.

"Thank you," Scully said glancing inside it to see what appeared at first glance to be a tee shirt still in the plastic packaging, a hairbrush, and a few basic items of make-up.

Skinner averted his gaze from the scene shifting the plastic bag he was carrying from one hand to the other. Durokoff glanced back at his cousin holding out another bag, a half-sized duffel. "I got some clothes for you and some shaving stuff."

Skinner's hand went to his face, feeling the growth of beard stubble. What a pig he must have looked like, he ruefully thought and glanced at Scully. "Thanks."

The sound of music drifted into the hall through Scully's room from outside; a hearty rendition of Bad Moon Rising being played in the square.

"Well, uh," Durokoff muttered planting his hands on his hips, looking between the two of them. "I guess you've figured out there's a little party starting outside. There's plenty of food and music," he made a brief gesture toward the sound of the music past Scully's shoulder. "I've come to extend the official Elmo invitation for you both to join us."

Scully's stomach gurgled urging her to accept the invitation.

* "... I see the bad moon a rising. I see trouble on the way..." *

Skinner spoke before she could. "Food sounds great, but I don't think we should get distracted. We're still on duty here."

"No distractions," Durokoff said and grinned. "Just good food. I've got plenty of people keeping an eye on that Bernstein joker, so you can stop worrying about him. Just come on down to the square when you're ready and make yourselves at home."

* "... I see bad times on their way..."*

"I may just rest some." Skinner said quietly.

Speak for yourself, Scully thought. "I'd be happy to sample the local flavor. I can't remember my last real meal."

* "I know the end is coming soon..." *

"Great," Durokoff blurted, zealously slapping his hands together. "I'll see you down there, Agent Scully." He said and turned to go, saying to his cousin as he went, "I hope you'll come down, too, once you get some rest, Walter."

* "...don't go 'round tonight... It's bound to take your life..." *

"Here," Skinner said, unceremoniously extending a plastic bag to Scully.

She blinked pulling her gaze off his departing cousin. "What's this?" She asked, taking the bag.

"A toothbrush and paste." He answered already halfway to his room down the hall.

"Thank you..." she leaned out the door calling back to him, but his door had already shut, leaving her alone in the hall.

Back inside her room, she picked through the duffel finding a new tee-shirt, boasting a silk screen print that read 'Second Annual 4th of July Celebration, Elmo, Wyoming'. She frowned reading it.

Only their second? She wondered and moved on to inspect the rest of the items. The mascara would work fine and the lipstick too if she only dabbed it on, it was just a little too dark for her taste, but the blush would have to go, it was far too red.

Grateful for necessities, she snatched up the brush and plastic bag, heading to the bathroom. Her hair was frightful. Could she get it to behave even if she did re-wet it and brush it straight out? No beauty contest is going on that I know of right now, she told herself, yanking first paste from the plastic bag, then the toothbrush— and stopped.

She looked at it, confused at first by what she saw. Turning the brush over in she found a small decal stamped on the handle; a little stagecoach in motion with a name drifting behind it like dust from the wheels. The name wasn't Dana, though... It was Kate.

She looked at that a second before she realized and glanced back, her thoughts on the room down the hall. Dana wasn’t a common name emblazoned on any gift shop trinket. She looked down at the toothbrush.

He’d gotten the next closest.

*****************************

The when the music began Skinner opened his eyes, hearing the chords that were undeniably familiar aside from the performers’ ad-libbing. Before finally getting up to go to the window, he laid on the bed listening to the guitar playing down in the square wrenching out Sleepwalk.

It wasn't great, but it was close, he critiqued pulling back the gossamer curtains to look out. Anyway, the slower, more sedate sounds were a nice break from the honky tonkin,’ rambunctious stuff they'd been playing for the last hour.

He would have liked to have blamed his inability to sleep on the music, but he doubted he could have slept if he were in a soundproof room with no windows. There was just too much weighing on his mind to allow sleep to come easily. There was still no call from the special agent in charge up in Casper, no word on when they could expect more agents. At least Mulder was on his way, that fact, in the strangest of ways helped ease his concerns in some.

Once he got there, they could continue on to Laramie, get Bernstein drugged to the hilt and on a plane and back to DC by Monday at the latest. That would still give them a day before the arraignment hearing and get the federal prosecutor and Attorney General out of his hair.

Skinner chuckled to himself. If ever there was a figure of speech...

A glimpse of red drew his attention to the street below. There walked one of his other concerns: Scully was heading across to the town square.

Damn.

From out of the cover of the trees came Lawrence, a huge smile plastered across his face.

And there came the next concern.

Of all the damn places to end up in why the hell did they have to end up here? Eighteen years of peace shattered in a single day. Peace, yes, but not complete disconnection. There had always been word floating through the family about who was doing what and where they were.

He had known when Lawrence finally made Sheriff here, he'd actually been invited to a party to celebrate the event. He knew it hurt Aunt Anne and Bulah when he didn't respond. He had been busy, and just didn't feel like dealing with it again.

Skinner watched as two boys scurried between Scully and Lawrence, almost bumping into her as they went. He watched Scully laugh about it and talk cheerfully as Lawrence guided her into the park, disappearing beyond the thick canopy of tree branches.

His heart sank almost in time with the lamenting cry of the guitar playing. Too much time had passed, he thought, but things hadn't changed much...

*****************************

Norwalk, Ohio December 1st, 1963

There just wasn’t a whole lot to do, and all the adults were still shuffling around, overwhelmed by the news out of Dallas a little over a week before. It felt like the world, at least their part of it had come to stand still after the news of the president’s assassination.

Heavy and silent, the day pressed in around two small figures scuffing through turned leaves. It was Sunday after Thanksgiving, not much to do between the time Church was done and time for supper, except track around in the woods, down by trestle and maybe, if luck were good, a train would pass on its way into Cedar Point.

But come tomorrow, Monday was going to be the start of a whole new experience...

"Will there be a lot of girls there?"

"Sure will. Who do you think we're gonna dance with, Walter, each other?"

Walter pulled the collar of his red plaid coat up closer to his neck, shivering against the sudden cold breeze. "But a lot of them?" he asked, concerned.

"I don't know," Lawrence looked at him closely, "why, are you scared?"

Walter shrugged and stuffed his hands deep in the warmth of his Tuff-Skin pockets. "No. I was just wondering."

"I think you're scared. You're scared of the girls." Lawrence began to laugh. Walter blushed making his cousin laugh even harder. "Cubby's afraid of the girls."

"I'm not. And stop calling me that stupid name."

"Cubby, Cubby, Cubby." He chanted, jogging in a circle around Walter.

"I don't even look like that kid, knock it off!" Walter hauled off and shoved Lawrence knocking him off balance.

"You got the ears."

"So, what if I have mouse ears? You've got that stupid coonskin hat, and I know your cat gave it fleas cause you're always scratching your head when you wear it!"

"I don't scratch my head!" Lawrence proclaimed, his voice cracking hard. "And I wasn't talkin'bout your dumb Mickey Mouse ears. I meant your ears!"

"So! You scratch your head so much you're gonna scratch all your hair off and then see how many girls you dance with."

"You're dumb." Lawrence spat shoving Walter.

"You're stupid." Walter spat back, regaining his balance.

"You're fat."

The comment fell on deaf ears, Walter wasn't listening to his cousin, something else had caught his attention, a rustling sound close by. Lawrence tried shoving him again, but Walter didn't budge, he remained steady and fixed on the sound. "Cut it out... Listen..." he said, adjusting his glasses.

Lawrence listened, hearing the sound he frowned. "What is that?"

Walter shook his head and started forward, following the rustling.

They walked carefully though the brittle layer of leaves covering the ground, listening intently, checking the bare trees around them for some sign of what the sound was.

"There," Lawrence blurted, his arm shooting straight out from his body as he pointed toward the trees ahead of them. "It's a kite!"

"It was a kite," Walter corrected his cousin who had started for the tree the tattered kite was caught in.

"Oh, wow, look," Lawrence excitedly called out when he peered up at the object. "It's not torn or nothing, look, Walter. Look."

Walter stepped up next to him, peering up. "Nope. It's not torn or nothing."

"Wow."

"But it's also up a tree."

Without a word Lawrence reached up and grabbed a low branch in each hand.

"What are you doing?" Walter sounded more accusatory than he did inquiring.

"I'm gonna get it."

"It's just junk, Lawrence." He told him and shook his head when he saw that he wasn't being listened to.

Lawrence struggled up through the bare branches, losing purchase several times as deader ones broke off under his weight, but somehow managing to only go higher rather than fall back down. It wouldn't be long though...

"You're gonna fall. You better not go any higher!" Walter yelled; his neck bent back until it hurt now to see his cousin. How high was he going go before he would see that kite was just junk, all busted up and worthless?

"I got it!" Lawrence shouted triumphantly.

Walter watched as he waved the ragged kite before him like some trophy for endurance and strength.

It was about then a loud crack sounded.

Clear and loud, like bones cracking, the branch Lawrence was resting his butt on breaking cut through the chilly air.

Walter saw the look in Lawrence's eyes when he realized things had gone very bad- black and huge with fear. He shrieked and Walter thought he sounded like a girl in the instant before his cousin plummeted through the branches and crashed to the ground on his side.

He lay there on his side; his back curved like a hula-hoop and his legs turned in crazy angles that didn't look right at all. His mouth was moving but there was no sound, he was sucking air in, and his eyes were squeezed shut so hard Walter couldn't see his eyelashes when he got up close.

"Holy smokes! Are you all right? Are you all right?"

Finally, and with an intensity like Walter had never heard in his life, a horrible noise came out of Lawrence's mouth: a ragged scream that degenerated into a gut-wrenching bawling. "My legs," he screamed, blood and snot trickling from his nose. "It hurts! It hurts! Walter, help me! Oh, God it hurts!"

"I told you!" Walter screamed, his breath beginning to hitch with frightened sobs. "I told you! Why didn't you listen to me?"

"Please- it hurts!"

Freezing air ripping at his lungs Walter tore through the woods, crashing toward Lawrence's house.

Walter Skinner didn't believe he had ever run harder or faster in his life than he had that afternoon.

******************************

Elmo, Wyoming 4th of July 1999

"Here you go," Durokoff declared, sounding a little breathless as he reappeared from the crowd, waving a handful of napkins.

Scully almost laughed at the inordinate amount of napkins he'd brought back to the table.

"I know I wasn't that messy," she said as he sat back down opposite her at the picnic table.

He watched her take a napkin from the pile and begin to wipe the barbecue sauce from her chin, noticing the dab she'd dropped on her tee shirt. "I don't know," he said grinning at her, "maybe I should have brought back a bib, too."

Scully looked down, gasping at the blotch of red sauce on herself. "I can't believe I've turned into such a mess."

"Ribs are messy business," he said handing her another fist full of napkins.

She laughed, feeling embarrassed. She had been half starved but attempted good manners, yet good manners went out the window when it came to barbecued ribs. She knew she should have stuck with the hot dogs.

"Barbecue in general is a messy business," she commented, demurely dabbing at her shirt.

"That's what makes it fun." Scully looked at him, struck by the strong and cheerful sound of his familiar voice. He looked back at her with kind brown eyes she thought she knew and had to remind herself that she didn’t know this man at all. "I think you missed a little..." He told her, gesturing first at her face then his own, brushing at his own upper lip.

Scully wiped at her mouth again, another wave of chagrin passing over her.

"Uh, it's..." he stammered a little again gesturing at her mouth and beginning to sound frustrated. "It's still..." Scully frowned, growing annoyed by her inability to find this stray smear of barbecue sauce he kept pointing at. "Uh, here," he said leaning over the table enough to hesitantly wipe her lip with another napkin. He stopped, pulling his hand back to look at her quizzically before he confusedly said, "it's not coming off?"

"Huh?" Then she realized and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh... Well, it's not going to be coming off, either, not without laser surgery, unfortunately." Durokoff's expression was beginning to take on that cast that Skinner more than often got when he didn't quite get something. "It's a mole," she explained and went back to pick at the ribs on her paper plate.

"Unfortunately?" He questioned her choice of words. "Don't you like it?"

"No," she said emphasizing the word by pursing her lips. "I usually cover it up."

"It's darling," he declared. She raised her eyes to give him a dubious look. He wasn't making it any better and she hoped her expression communicated the fact. "Why would you cover it up?"

Apparently her expression did not phase the man. "I've never liked it," she answered and shrugged. "Since I was a little girl, I hated it."

"Why don't you have it cut off?" he bluntly asked.

She cringed, managing to stop her hands before the ribs touched her mouth. "I don't know," she sighed putting the rib back on the plate and pushing it away. "I guess because it's still a part of me."

"Attached to it, huh?" He was being deliberately idiotic now.

Scully blew her breath out, laughing hard in spite of herself. He laughed along with her appearing to do so with his whole body; he seemed to shudder, his eyes pinched with glee, his mouth a full broad smile.

She liked him. She liked his laugh- full on bass and warm- she liked the way he looked and carried him self- formidable confidence blended with deft grace. She'd even become a little fond of the propensity he had for repeatedly adjusting his hat when he spoke. A nervous quirk, Scully had considered, or merely a motion to ease the press of the cap against his bare scalp. She had seen he was just as balding as Skinner the few times his hat had come far enough away from his head.

Although, his skull appeared smoother than Skinner's that was subtly pitted and pocked with peculiar dings and curious indentations. Occasionally, while seated before her superior's desk with Mulder explaining himself at her side, her mind would drift curiously over that uneven back-lit scalp, indexing the probable causes of those marks and wondering if there something more to phrenology.

When their laughter tapered down to scant chuckling they found themselves looking at one another, a certain level of wariness passing between their gazes. The echo of live music rebounded around them, people mulled about laughing and cheering, but it all seemed suddenly very far away.

After a moment, affected, Durokoff cleared his throat shifting his eyes left and right, anywhere but on her. He got up from the table and motioned for her to follow. "Come on, I think that sauce is getting to you."

"Getting to me?"

He laughed one last breathy laugh, re-adjusting the cap on his head. "That sauce has probably got more booze in it than the bar over there."

She gawked at the plate of ribs she'd torn through. There might have been a good amount of liquor in the sauce but surely not enough to make her tipsy. "I couldn't taste liquor in it."

"Likely story, missy," he teased, "come on along with me."

"Am I under arrest for public intoxication?" She went with it, allowing him to take her by the arm and lead her through the crowd.

"Public intoxication, lewd and disorderly conduct, not to mention bad table manners..."

She didn't know where he was taking her but happily trotted along enjoying the feel of Durokoff's firm grasp.

Why couldn't Skinner be more like this, she mused as they wound their way through the crowded park. There was that one brief instant, she recalled his inciting of the Gilligan's Island theme while they were marooned in the middle of the lake, but she had assumed that was just the champagne.

She'd seen him smile just once, that same night, and the simple gesture had softened his features and lent light to his eyes. It was a long time before she had rid herself of the hope of ever seeing him smile like that again, at least for her. Again, she chalked it up to the alcohol he'd consumed and let it go.

Anything between them was not meant to be despite her moments of weakness, times when she was ready to throw everything away and tell him how she felt. He would probably give her one of those incredulous looks he so effortlessly doled out on a regular basis, saying something like "you've obviously made a mistake." Yeah, a mistake, all right. A big one, too. Don't go falling for your superior unless you're ready to suffer the knicks and scratches of unrequited... The sound of Durokoff's walkie-talkie interrupted her dejected introspective.

He excused himself by stepping away from her. A few moments later she was accepting his request to join him on a call, promising it would be interesting. And interesting it did turn out to be.

A rather typical domestic disagreement but with rather distinctive circumstances; at the far-off fringe of Carbon County where the Elmo Sheriff's department authority just about ran out. Two men of wise age, one would assume at first sight, sitting around all morning with nothing better to do than drink themselves into a stupor, decided the fireworks show was too far off to wait any longer. So, they started their own show a little early by setting off sticks of dynamite in their front yard.

The first blast had taken out a car belonging to one man who promptly set off a second stick that demolished the car belonging to the man who had set off the first explosion.

With their cars burning and the yard and house torn up and looking like a scene from a war, the men continued to argue and fight, each threatening to blow the other up.

Judging by the familiarity that the deputies on the scene as well as Durokoff treated the men, Scully figured that these two had a long history of such behavior.

An hour or more had passed when the county fire trucks were finally showing up on the scene and the two men had been talked down and on their way to Elmo where their view of the fireworks show would be quite good from their cells.

Stating that he was certain nothing he could show her now would top what they'd just seen, Durokoff set off anyway to give Scully a brief tour of the area, introducing her to locals less radical than the last and reciting regional history and lore making her feel quite comfortable with his attentiveness and polite gestures of respect.

She found in his behavior an old-fashioned charm replacing cautious political correctness that punctuated the cities she'd lived in most her life. Still, he showed respect to her, as the fellow agent of law enforcement she was, asking her opinion on issues of concern in the area and wanting to know her feelings about recent negative attitudes directed toward federal agencies.

But in defiance of their almost deliberate trade discussions, there was an underlying tension building between them. She could feel the air becoming charged as they traveled together and quite by themselves in the four-wheeler. Talk was becoming less and less as they drove through the mountainous roads, replaced by the frequent exchange of glances and shared smiles in the increasingly awkward silence.

Scully was beginning to feel as though she were on a first date when the radio gratefully crackled for attention, the dispatcher announcing she had a message from the Albany Country Sheriff's department. Scully was quick to stop any information from going out over the radio, making Durokoff aware of that being one feasible way Gryzwac had been tracing them with the use of a scanner.

Remarking how he hoped everyone was being as alert as she was he instructed the call be put through to them on his cell phone, and moments later Scully was talking to a ragged out sounding Mulder. He was traveling with an Albany Country deputy to get a rental car and didn't believe he'd be arriving until nightfall.

"Why doesn't he just get Boyd to have him flown over here," Durokoff asked Scully who relayed the question to Mulder.

"The helicopter is temporarily out of commission," she relayed back, listening to something else Mulder said, then, "besides, he's not thrilled about the idea if it were working."

Durokoff laughed. "I don't blame him in the least."

By the time they got back to town he'd shared his own tale of his experiences with Ronnie Stewart, the rock’n’rolling hot shot of the Albany County Air Patrol. It seemed the man had never quite put aside his days as a stunt show pilot, still managing to get a little acrobatic flying in every once in a while to show off and sometimes scare what he liked to call his "virgin" passengers.

***********************

Lariat Car Rentals Rock Springs, Wyoming

What was the deal?

Was there no respect left in this country for the urgency of federal business?

Mulder mulled these and a multifarious amount of other questions over as he watched the rental car agency employee languidly collect agreements from various pigeonholes along the wall of the storefront agency. Tired beyond measure he leaned against the chest high counter, believing if he stared hard enough at the back of the man's head, willing him to move faster.

"Please do not lean on the counter," he suddenly announced without turning.

Rolling his eyes, Mulder straightened and checked the time on the wall clock. Jesus, it was nearly four o'clock. Where had the damn day gone? "Could we hurry this up some, I'm really tired and I'm in a hurry to get to where I'm going."

"Perhaps you shouldn't be in such a hurry if you're so tired, sir." The man said, turning back to him with a smug lift to his eyebrow, his bushy mustache twitching like a nervous ferret had nested under his nose.

An abrupt and unsolicited laugh escaped Mulder. "Uh," he forced his eyes closed against the sight of the man. "I'm taking the full insurance on the car." He finally managed to assure the funny little man, who was now frowning at him.

"Of course you are after what happened to your last vehicle." He said planting the paperwork on the counter in front of Mulder. "Never in the history of Lariat Rental has there ever been such an act of complete disregard and..."

"I'm really sorry about the other rental car," Mulder bemoaned both what had become of the car he'd left on the side of the road the previous day and the fact that Lariat Rental seemed to have a monopoly on the rental car business throughout the area. Who would have thought there was a vandalism problem in such an area of the country? "Circumstances beyond my control kept me from calling..."

"Yes, yes. So, you've said. Still, I certainly hope this isn't the normal mode of operation among all representatives of the Federal Bureau of Investigation." He remarked pointedly as he handed Mulder a pen.

"As a matter of fact, it is," Mulder, aggravated to a point now, began signing papers with a whimsical flourish of his wrist, dispatching the signed copies toward the man with abandon. "It's a new policy that all federal employees must abide by totally, seek out and destroy as much property as humanly possible within the private sector." He emphasized his final word with such zeal he ripped right though the tissue thin top copy of the rental agreement with the ballpoint of the pen.

"Wonderful," the man declared throwing his hands up, "more destruction. I just never- now, we'll have to start over again."

"What!" Mulder spat as the man snatched up all the papers and started for the pigeonholes again for fresh copies. "Haven't you ever heard of scotch tape?"

************************

Continued in part 8

[digitaldoeslmk]

So what would be your eq 1 the start of the magic adventures after DBK attack……. It’s a mk get an eaten, isn’t it? Sooooo how the crew react to that? 

yes and no, i imagine the events of the first three eps occurs pretty similarly and before The Incident, except for ep1 cus Red Son doesn't try to take the weather tower and MK doesn't have invincibility. He does accidentally wrecks the tower's antenna with the staff and him and Wukong decide to seal off some of his powers until he can get a handle on them. The clone fiasco and the Mei sleepover though happens as in canon.

It's at that time that MK gets into another shady delivery location and well, he's the one on the menu. He's missing for about four days total, its late in the second day that Red Son hears about the rumor about a human feast from his parents (he has dinner with them once in a while, it's awkward as all hell but he can't bear to say no to spending time with his parents), and he goes to investigate, which leads him to a lot of geographical damage and a fight or flight mode monkey MK. after calming him down he takes him back to the Flaming Mountains to clean up and bounce off the shock somewhere safe.

he finds the carnage MK left behind and all the signs of the culprits of said feast and well, time to find out if the looters took any um, souvenirs, and of course get MK's own version of the story. MK does reach out to Pigsy once his phone is fixed (he can't remember his phone number for the life of him) and reassures everyone he's okay.

by the third day Wukong hears about what happened and makes An Entrance about it, hole on the roof and everything. him and Red Son talk over the details, and MK and Wukong have a serious talk about well, the occupational hazards. after bouncing off the worst ofit, Red Son drives MK back to Megapolis and the gang sits down to talk and hear why MK was MIA all this time.

Pigsy almost pops a vessel and a heart chamber, Tang faints, Mei sits down by Red Son to ask very calmly if there are any missing culprits she needs to find. Sandy is pretty much on damage control mode with MK's dads cus they do be highkey losing it. Pigsy rounds up on Red Son but he lets the demon vent his worries, he can handle a badmouthed concerned parent.

needless to say MK is benched for a good while there, Pigsy and Mei almost like two guard dogs around him. Tang and Sandy try their best to support everyone and each other though cus, really, it's A Lot. Luckily they got Red Son on the team now, and he's quite adept at crisis control and emotional support training.

[magnetarbeam]

So I guess this is the thread where I infodump my ideas about how the magic space technology works in Star Wars, on the off-chance that anyone cares.

The first thing to know in terms of ships is that volume is by far the most important dimension. Almost all other characteristics of a vessel's performance are limited by its volume.

The primary characteristic of that performance is the reactor. The recorded performance of Star Wars ships demands the use of some kind of exotic matter in power generation. This is known as hypermatter. A common Imperator-class star destroyer is understood to generate approximately 1e25 watts - the power of a small star - in a reactor of several million cubic meters. In my current headcanon, the exact values are 1.07e25 W and 3053628 cubic meters, respectively. The relationship between reactor volume and maximum power output is constant and direct, and a hypermatter annihilation reactor can be turned down to zero or near-zero output if you need to save fuel or something (in fact, warships pretty much never operate at maximum output outside of combat), but it can never exceed the output determined by its volume.

It's commonly assumed that all hypermatter annihilation reactors are spherical in shape.

In this context, a proper warship is a vessel that is able to easily divert any or all of its reactor output into any of its major systems at the discretion of the crew. The output of the reactor is the primary comparison for if a ship is overgunned (the combined yield and thus power draw of the energy weapons is more than a second of reactor output, necessitating the guns to be charged over a longer duration) or undergunned (the opposite of that), and the capacity of the shields and power flow of the thrusters are also measured relatively to the reactor.

Small craft have inherent limits on power flow due to the limited size of power conduits, which is the reason that a T-65XJ X-Wing, with an overall output of 4.03e17 W, only mounts four 30-kiloton laser cannons capable of firing one full shot every 1.35 seconds, which draws far less than a percent of the full output. On ships the size of starfighters, the reactors are built directly into the ion engines, whereas capital ships have the reactors more centrally located.

A purposely and professionally constructed capital warship is expected to be able to divert all power into weapons, thrust, or shields, though secondary cannons are afforded a smaller maximum power flow than primaries. Retrofitted civilian vessels like early Mon Calamari combat ships or pre-Clone Wars Lucrehulk configurations have less extensive power transfer systems.

Fuel is a serious concern. A tonne of hypermatter yields 9e19 J when annihilated (this derived directly from the RotS Incredible Cross-Sections entry for the Venator), and on capital ships, the fuel mass at a full tank is several times the dry mass. An Imperator, in my current headcanon, carries fuel for 5400 seconds of full output. In basically any noncombat situation, these vessels operate at power levels many orders of magnitude lower, to conserve fuel. Volume of fuel storage is so poorly defined in Star Wars that I ignore it entirely, but more fuel means significantly more mass, and that makes the ship slower.

For fighters, fuel mass is much less of a concern, but that's mostly due to the smaller craft being meant for shorter flight times.

In order to simplify things, I calculate the acceleration of Star Wars ships based on reactor power-to-weight in most cases. The ion engines on most ships are able to take the full output, and I haven't yet done the calcs for any that can't, but as mentioned, that can and does come up.

The total and reactor volumes of ships vary by multiple orders of magnitude. I currently have the Executor-class at a peak reactor output of 1.95e27 W, and the far more voluminous Mon Cal Viscount-class at 2.87e28.

Among the known performance features used for the Imperator's estimates is the ability to completely glass the surface of a common habitable planet in an hour. Just as a point of reference.

[clonemedickix]

Rating: M

Word count: 6.9K

Pairing: Commander Neyo x OC General Lara Lin

Warnings: implied clone warfare, dark humor, snarky banter

Excerpt Summary - Part 2 of the Neyo vs Lara chapter. Using the intel Neyo and his group collected, the Dragon Company is sent to find General Grievous. Neyo has met his match if he thinks he can bully General Lin into fearing him.

If you would Iike to read the full chapter on AO3, click here WARNING - full chapter is NSFW, MINORS DNI, UNDER 18 DNI

If you would like to see more fanfic posts, click here

@blueink-bluesoul @523rdrebel @anxiouspineapple99 @dystopicjumpsuit

Excerpt:

Lara walked to the ramp of the Talon, escorted by Fives, Rex, and Cody. While she couldn’t take Rex with her on the mission, they had at least seconded Fives to their group for this trip to the small Outer Rim backwater Neyo had given them as the location for Grievous. Pausing at the foot of the ramp, she looked up at her sleek flagship, its black and red paint with gray hues giving the onlookers the impression of dragon scales. Lara was proud of the detail Anakin, Kenobi and Rex had paid when getting the ship outfitted for her, taking the time to put an intimidating paint scheme on her, befitting the Dragon Company.

She glanced over at Rex and Cody and said, “Well, guess I’ll see you when I see you. Hope this doesn’t turn into a wild goose chase.”

Cody smiled at her and said, “Neyo and his group are usually pretty spot on with the information. There will definitely be something there, though whether Grievous still is - that’s up for debate. You and your lunatic Dragons be safe, General.” He reached out his hand for hers, and she answered by grasping it, skinning the fingers and giving him a firm fist bump.

“We’ll be fine. Keep Rex out of trouble,” she said with a smile. Rex smiled back into Lara’s eyes, and they repeated the little handshake, though they lingered a bit before giving each other fist bumps. They couldn’t say goodbye properly with a whole ship full of clones watching, as well as all the dock workers.

Lara turned to look at Fives and gave him a little nod with her head, gesturing to the ship, and the two of them started up the ramp. “Gonna be just like old times, General,” Fives said with a chuckle.

“I do hope so, though it’ll be a bit less sunny with Neyo skulking around.” She looked up at the large hangar when they entered the ship, watching all the crew members moving to and fro, getting ready to sail. “I wonder if I can contrive to stuff him in a broom closet for the duration of the flight, so we can continue on our merry way?”

Fives snorted. “You know the scary thing is - I know you’re actually enjoying baiting that guy, and looking forward to however else you can dig the claws in. You’d better be careful around him - he’s known for being able to sniff out all sorts of dirt on everyone.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t call the knowledge of me and Rex so much ‘dirt’ at this point. Everyone knows. They just pretend they don’t.” The pair headed for the lift that would take them to the bridge. Lara and Fives were a striking pair - the rakishly handsome ARC Trooper in his full kit, carrying his helmet under his right arm, and the stunningly beautiful, tall General in her shining enameled, bejeweled armor and chain mail, her great sword’s hilt peeking over her shoulder while her short sword and dagger swung at her hips. Her mane of curls draped over her shoulders and down her back, bouncing slightly as she strode down the hallways of the Venator with her friend at her side. Fives was more than just a friend, though it was difficult to pin down a definition of his place in her life. There was only ever the thinnest layer of control between them, keeping them from ripping their armor off and finding a broom closet of their own.

When the door of the lift opened on the bridge of the Talon, heads turned to see the General step out, Fives one step behind on her left. She proceeded gracefully across the room, acknowledging the welcoming nods of the clone staff, her head high like a queen entering her throne room. She saw Admiral Shepherd standing before the great expansive windscreens, Primer and Neyo on either side of a holo table, watching each other with very guarded expressions.

Neyo saw the General arrive on deck and was actually rather taken aback by how changed she was in her armor. Only a completely blind fool would have thought she wasn’t beautiful, but her whole demeanor was different from the day he’d met her. She carried herself like a queen, head high, back straight, a composed air about herself that immediately snapped one to attention, knowing a leader was approaching. The clone commander watched her silently as she moved forward to speak to Admiral Shepherd, greeting him with a warm smile. He felt the eyes of both Primer and Fives watching him, sizing up his reaction to their General, both men perhaps a little nervous for her sake.

“Well, Shep, what say you to getting this ship off the ground? We’ve got a fairly long journey ahead of us.”

Admiral Shepherd smiled back at Lara; he truly admired and respected her as his partner in crime after having worked so closely with her Company. He knew her quirks and manner of leadership now without any question, and had gotten used to her insistence on blaring music everywhere they went over the loudspeakers. He no longer minded it and had long ago realized that the crew worked somewhat better, able to focus around the noise in a way that seemed sharper and more relaxed. He turned to address the room and said “The Dragon Rider is aboard, men. Admiral has the con.”

The Chief of the Boat replied “Admiral has the con!”

“Helmsman, right full rudder, come to heading 060, quarter steam, make our course hyperspace lane 151.” Shepherd gave the commands easily, watching as the crew moved to quickly and smoothly carry them out, their replies sharp and succinct to indicate their receipt and understanding. The Talon started to move, pulling away from the pier of the GAR space port. Lara stood before the large windscreens, watching silently as the towers and skyscrapers of Coruscant started to slide by, then dwindle as the ship gained altitude. “No music today, General?,” Shep asked her quietly.

Lara’s head came up, a small smirk on her face. “When we get out of atmosphere. I’m not sure Marshal Commander Grumpy Pants would approve.” She didn’t even look at him, but her voice carried to the clone behind her. Lara didn’t see Fives purse his lips in amusement, looking down at his boots quickly, nor Primer’s quick glance at her back. Neyo himself shot the other two a look. Lara turned, pulling a small rectangular disk from her pocket. She stepped over to the COB’s station and handed him the disk and murmured, “I’ll let you know when the time is right.”

“Very good, General,” the COB replied.

Lara stepped over to Primer to make small talk about the Company, whether all the small details were sorted. He answered in the affirmative, filling her in on some relatively unimportant information, assuring her that everything was ready for their mission. Meanwhile, the ship picked up both speed and altitude under the command of Admiral Shepherd. Once they were in the void of space, outside of Coruscant, Lara pulled her phone from the thigh pocket of her breeches, and thumbed through the screens to the music app. Without looking at the COB, she said “Alright Chief, it’s time. Let’s have some tunes.” The COB plugged the disk into a port and punched a button, activating the shipboard speaker system. Lara picked a first song and hit play. The opening chords of “Remember the Name” started streaming from the sound system and everyone aboard seemed to mentally move into a different headspace, ready for the mission, relaxed but anticipating the action to come.

Neyo watched the proceedings quietly, taking note of the easy manner in which the crew interacted with each other, the Admiral and the General. They seemed to be a well oiled machine, all confidant and well practiced in their roles. And it was clear that everyone there both respected and loved their leader. He’d seen nothing of the flighty, almost unprofessionally bubbly woman he’d met the day of the planning committee.

The ship’s crew got them into hyperspace, safe on their journey, and Lara nodded to the Admiral. “Alrighty then, Shep. I’m going to retire to my quarters. Gimme a holler if you need something.” She stepped over to Primer and Fives and said, “For my part, boys, you’re dismissed. Come get me if you need anything.”

Everyone murmured acceptance of her parting words as she made her way off the bridge, heading for her quarters. Suddenly she heard a voice call her back. “General Lin, what are my orders?” Neyo actually wasn’t all that interested in what she wanted him to do, but he was rankled that she’d ignored him the entire time he’d stood there.

“Oh, Commander Neyo…” her tone laced with a layer of amused loathing. “Forgive me, I did not see you there.” Everyone knew she’d seen him there, and she saw Fives reach up to cover a smile on his face, turning into a bit of thoughtful stroking of his goatee. “I don’t particularly have any orders for you; we have a guy over cleaning the toilets already.” She saw Primer’s head snap toward the windscreens to hide a laugh. “Maybe you could get a bucket of prop wash and go clean out the fallopian tubes in the engine room?”

Neyo’s neck started to creep with a dull red of annoyance at her sass. He was well aware of what she was suggesting; he was no ignorant rookie. “I mean a real assignment, General. I could perhaps update you on the latest information we have obtained, or be dismissed to my own devices,” he fairly snarled in a clipped voice, the strain of not biting back with insults evident.

“Perhaps when we get closer to our destination, Neyo. I have some very pressing, highly interesting paint to watch dry in my quarters and I’m afraid I just can’t spare the time for you right now.”

Neyo stared back at her, fury flaming in his hard brown eyes. “Very well, General. I will be sure to report to your quarters at the top of every hour, just to check in on the most appropriate time for an intelligence update.”

Lara let that veiled threat sink in, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes a bit. “Fine, Needo. Come on. Walk and talk.” Lara turned on her heel, striding purposefully for the lift; she punched the button to call it, smashing it like she imagined she was gouging Neyo’s eye out with her thumb. She heard him follow behind her quickly, almost running to catch up at the last; he felt sure she’d love nothing more than closing the elevator door in his face and leaving him to wait for the next ride. He heard Lara sigh a little disgustedly when he turned to stand beside her, shooting Primer a look of displeasure at the last moment, as the door slid shut on the pair. She muttered, “Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate,” in a dramatically low voice as the elevator descended to the level of her stateroom. Neyo had no idea what language she’d just spoken in, but he could at least understand that the tone indicated a distinct lack of enthusiasm for her company.

The lift door opened on the hallway; her quarters were at the end of the corridor. “So do you actually have an update or are you here just to haunt my steps like a ghoul?”

“General, I assure you, I could find all manner of things I’d rather be doing than remaining in your presence. For both of our sakes, I will make this quick.” Neyo didn’t look at her as he spoke, carefully concentrating on the approaching gray door.

“Very good, Commander.” She reached out and punched in the code for the door, stepping across the threshold when it snapped open. The clone followed her in quietly. Lara immediately walked over to the clothes tree standing against the wall, lifting her great sword, bow and quiver off over her head and setting them to lean against the bulkhead wall. Looking back she said shortly, “Have a seat Commander. You can start the briefing.”

Neyo took a seat at her desk, watching as she removed the layers of her armor, finally stripping off the chain mail shirt and hanging everything neatly on the clothes tree. She shrugged her shoulders a bit to relax after unloading the weight of her armor, then turned to step over to the desk. She was wearing the thin, translucent shift she customarily wore beneath the mail to prevent chafing; the clone took in the form of her curves and the dark shape of her sports bra through the gauzy material. Lara pulled the chair back and plopped down in it, leaning back and propping her boots on the edge of the desk, her hands folded over her abdomen, her snapping blue eyes fixed on him coolly. For a brief moment Neyo wasn’t sure where to begin, and couldn’t form words.

Lara raised an eyebrow, watching him stare at her. “I’ll remind you, Needles, I have many other incredibly uninteresting things I could be doing, rather than watching you sit her and glower at me. Tick tock.”

Neyo cocked his head a little at hearing her mispronounce his name - again - then started to speak. He reached into a pocket on his belt, removing a holo disc, and placed it on her desk, activating it. He moved through the briefing quickly, updating her on the new information blandly, watching as the General listened attentively, silently. When he was done, he removed the disc from her desk and stood. “If the General has any questions, I am at your disposal.”

“Oh, to be sure. Thank you, Commander.” Lara sat up, putting her feet on the floor again. She stood, turning her back on him, assuming he would show himself out. When she realized he was still standing before her desk, she turned around, her look askance.

“Am I dismissed, General?,” he asked in a cool voice.

“Very. Buh-bye, Nemo.” She turned away from him again, her whole posture dismissive. Get the point and leave, she thought to herself in an annoyed manner.

“I am at the General’s service,” he said with a little bow.

“Duly noted, Commander.” She was rifling through a drawer beneath the bunk, looking for a comfortable shirt to change into. As she pulled a baggy sweatshirt out of the folded clothes, she caught sight of the persistent clone still in her room. Lara stopped, turned to face him full on, and stood to her full height. “Neyoda. What the hell do you want? You’ve been dismissed. I’ve told you bye. I’ve turned my back to you in as clear a motion of ignoring you, as I could contrive. Why are you still here?!,” she asked, exasperation clear in her words.

“I have yet to hear you say ‘You are dismissed, Marshal Commander Neyo.’” There was a little gleam of amusement in his eyes as he delivered the reply; she was going to use his name correctly if he had to stand here and stare at her for an hour. Lara stared back at him, her face a bit blank at this challenge, then she ducked her chin a little and glared at him from under her lashes.

“Try this on for size, then. Get. Out. Marshal Commander Newman.” Of course he wouldn’t know what she meant, but she could completely envision the curl of Jerry Seinfeld’s lip as he snarled the name out.

“That is not my…” His words were cut off as she stepped around the desk and forcibly grabbed his shoulders, turning him and hustling him toward the door. To his surprise she was every bit as strong as any clone, and he had no choice but to move with her. She shoved him into the hall, half hurling him. Neyo quickly stood and turned, ready to finish his comment, but saw her raise her hand and shake her head at the same time.

“Don’t you dare, or you’ll be doing a FOD walk on the hull in hyperspace,” she said imperiously, pointing her finger at him. “Now, shoo.” Lara hit the button to close the door between them and then made a face behind it that he’d never see. What a pain in her ass, she thought. The door snapped open and she whirled, thinking she was going to absolutely lose her shit if Neyo was trying to come back for round two. She froze in surprise at seeing Fives and Primer, and relaxed visibly. “Oh, thank god, it’s you two.” She turned away and walked back to her bunk, quickly pulling the hooded sweatshirt over her head and arms while the two clones traded amused looks.

“Neyo get the better of you?,” Primer asked with a little chuckle.

“He did not. I was just warming up.” Lara rolled her eyes a little and bent to rifle through her bag for her iPad, then she came back to her desk and plopped back into her chair. “What can I do for you two gentlemen?,” she asked smoothly.

Fives sat in one of the chairs opposite her, leaning back and sprawling his legs out in relaxation. Primer took the other, sitting comfortably but less messily than Fives. “We were bored, and came to see what you were up to, and to know if you needed backup. Or a cleaning crew to disappear the murder we felt sure was coming,” Primer drawled out with a grin.

“Murder won’t be necessary. I can handle ole Ney-ewt there. He’ll make it back to Coruscant alive and in one piece, I promise.” Lara looked at her two friends - subordinates yes, but both so much more than that at this point in the war. “We’ve got what? Two days on the Talon until we get to wherever this place is? We can get in plenty of training between now and then with the men. Send out a general message and tell them meet up in the hangar in a couple of hours.”

Primer nodded and rose to leave so he could spread the order. Fives remained sitting in his chair. As soon as the door closed behind Primer he looked at Lara flatly and asked, “You do know Neyo isn’t a guy to be messed with, right? If you start a war with him, you better be able to finish it.”

Lara smiled and shook her head, rolling her eyes lightly. “It’ll be fine. He’s just a guy I love to hate at the moment, complete entertainment. Besides, under all that ice, I think he’s all bluff.”

Fives shook his head at her, eyes wide. “I don’t think so, Lara. I’m pretty sure that man was created without a soul.”

“Well, he’s no ginger, and he’s got something stirring around in there, else he wouldn’t have taken the time to have someone tattoo his name on his face. A man who’s got pride, has spirit, and therefore some kind of soul. It might be a thoroughly rotten one, smelling of death and bad cheese, but hey it’s there.”

Fives laughed. “If you say so. Just, be careful around that guy. Spooks can’t be trusted.

“A truer statement there never was. I’ll make a bet with you - 100 credits that he’ll show some form of actual human activity before the trip is out.” Fives thought about it and then nodded, reaching over to shake on the deal. Lara sat back and asked, “Okay, my friend, what are we watching today?” The two of them settled in at her desk and flipped through her extensive library of movies and TV shows. Fives was working his way through the Marvel series, and so this time he requested Thor: Ragnarok. They watched the movie, laughing along at the funny parts and sass until it was time to head for the hangar for physical training with the Dragon Company.

Two days’ flight brought them to the mysterious Outer Rim system Neyo had designated as the current lair of Grievous. Admiral Shepherd kept the Talon in the region but far enough from the planet to shroud their presence, while they worked through what scans of the surface they had available. On the bridge, Shepherd, General Lin, Neyo and his two spy buddies, Fives and Primer worked to come up with a plan for getting to the surface and moving on the structure the rogue cyborg general was supposedly hiding in. Lara stood back, watching the information on the holo table critically, while listening to the team hash out suggestions.

The team came up with a workable plan, and got to the surface to carry it out, but as with many best intentions, there was no Grievous present on the surface to capture. The facility was empty save for battle droids, which was a complicating factor but not over all a bad thing. The men got to blow them up, the dragon got to incinerate some, and it seemed everyone went home happy. Except for Neyo.

His intel had proved incorrect, and the mission had in fact turned into a wild goose chase. He could see that General Lin and Primer weren’t overly upset about it; in fact they seemed quite content with the day’s work. But Neyo felt the cold hand of shame creeping up his neck, knowing he would have to answer for being wrong, dragging a battle group out to the middle of nowhere, burning precious fuel reserves and supplies, for what amounted to target practice.

Baiulus landed a short distance away from the Venator as the ramp dropped, and Lara watched the progress of her troops from his back, keeping an ever mindful eye out for any droids that might appear. On the whole, the trip was a waste of fuel, but good practice for the men. There were only a few wounded casualties, and Volte assured her they would be perfectly fine by the time they got back to Coruscant. When the last of the clones boarded, leaving only Fives, Neyo and Primer on the ground, Lara dismounted the dragon and patted him on the jaw, murmuring praise to him and dismissing him back to wherever he went. The dragon turned in a lumbering circle and took off, disappearing into the distance. Lara turned to her escorts and nodded towards the ship, moving to climb the ramp herself.

“Well Commander Neyo, that was a fun little side trip for literally nothing. I may be forced to start calling you Commander Null-o.” She didn’t spare him a look.

The man blushed a dusky red color in embarrassment and annoyance. “That’s just how it works sometimes, General.” He was actually mortified that there had been no sign of Grievous at all. If the cyborg had been there, it hadn’t been very recent. Rather graciously, the General said nothing more and simply headed for the bridge while making small talk with Fives. Neyo was alone with his shame, wondering how they could ever live this down.

She was also kind about the situation on the bridge, when she updated Admiral Shepherd. He’d watched their approach to the windscreens and holo table, and asked rather lightly, “No Grievous, I see?”

Lara shook her head. “No Grievous. Just battle droids. Cyclops was able to pull this off the central data computer though.” Lara held up a disc with the information imprinted on the memory chip. “Maybe it will have useful information.” She handed the disc to a staff officer, who plugged it into the holo table and worked to decode the information. Looking up, she dismissed Fives and Primer, thanking them for their work and praising their efforts that day. Neyo saw them leave, and realized she hadn’t dismissed him. Perhaps the shoe was about to drop after all. “When you get the information decoded and ready, let me know. Commander, please come with me.” Lara turned and breezed off the bridge, heading for her quarters. Neyo followed quickly, knowing he was about to get dressed down by the General, after all the bravado he’d been fronting.

As soon as the door closed to her stateroom, Neyo saw Lara turn to stand behind her desk and face him. “I don’t really have to say anything; I know you’re wishing you could find a rock to crawl under at this point. You better hope there’s good intel on that disc we pirated.” Lara folded her arms over her armored chest and gave him a piercing look. “You and your guys need to go over that stuff and see what we can glean for our benefit.”

Neyo stood waiting for real chastisement to come from the General, and when she finished talking, his eyes kind of flickered in realization - she wasn’t going to rebuke him. Instead she was watching him with a curious expression of understanding and patience that was totally unexpected. Neyo’s mouth opened in his surprise, and for a moment he forgot how to speak. “General, I am… sorry for this whole affair. I cleared that intel and verified it to the Jedi - it’s my fault we are here.” He stopped talking, staring at the desk top.

Lara didn’t speak for a long time; rather she watched Neyo as he worked to salvage the shreds of his pride. She didn’t want to watch the man struggle, so she decided to throw him a bone. “Honestly, Commander, I liked you better when you were an asshole.” His eyes snapped up to her face at hearing her. “You screwed up. It happens. Nobody died, and we got to incinerate some droids. As far as the Dragon Company is concerned, it was a good day at the range. Now, you best scuttle off and go over that intel with a fine toothed comb.”

Neyo stood tall, realizing she had basically wiped the slate clean for him, and given him an invite to continue on as they had been before. He studied her with a look of appraisal and newfound respect. The clone commander snapped a perfect salute and turned to head for her door. Before he could leave he heard her voice. “Oh and Neyozle. It’ll be our little secret.”

“What secret, General?,” he asked, completely confused.

“That under that whole shell of tough guy, cute animal torturing, cold as a frozen dead fish exterior - there’s an actual honest to god soul.” She gave him a little devilish grin. “Fives and I had a bet going. Granted, it’s a small soul. A shriveled little thing, but it’s there.”

Neyo’s eyes narrowed but internally he laughed ruefully. “I’ll send you the bill for my next shipment of tookas, General. And I hate fish.” He turned to leave and called out, “I’ll update you as soon as I have a report on the decrypted intel.” He didn’t see the small amused smile on Lara’s face as the door shut behind him. She knew she’d won the man over, though he’d probably never admit it openly.

The pirated CIS intel contained some highly valuable information, thankfully. It did prove Neyo and his spies correct - Grievous had been using the random, isolated facility as a base for some Outer Rim activities. He’d last been there a couple of weeks before their raid. The biggest find though, was the information it contained concerning other hidden CIS bases, their armament, and which leader frequented them. Neyo was vindicated, quite by luck and Lara’s quick thinking to steal information from the computers in the building, and the mission was deemed a success. The flight back to Coruscant was relaxed and triumphant, and Neyo was privy to watching the rather secretive Dragon Company’s downtime routines on their ship.

It was really quite vanilla - they trained, they played a game called basketball which the General had taught them, and also lounged around listening to the music which was always playing over head. Neyo had seen the General play a few games of ball with her men, her easy laughter and camaraderie readily apparent with her troops. She was sassy, laid back, approachable, knew every single clone by face and name. She was a leader that men loved to serve and would fight for with their very lives. She saw Neyo standing by the basketball court at one point and turned, chunking the ball at him unexpectedly. He flubbed catching it, suddenly thrust into the spotlight.

“Come on Neon, catch the ball!” She was wearing the biggest smile, and had her hands up ready to catch the ball. She expected him to throw it back to her.

“That is not my name, General,” he said in a slightly bored tone.

“And yet you answered. Hmm. How about Neil? Neidermyer? Noodles? Ney ney? Come on, I like Ney Ney.” She kept floating silly names while Neyo shook his head, his expression getting more and more stony. But beneath that painful frown, Lara could see his eyes were lit with internal mirth - it was all he could do to keep the angry look up. Lara sighed. “Fine. Neyo…Nono.” She’d seen his posture relax the tiniest fraction and then stiffen back up at the second half. The men around her were all snickering with laughter at the General bugging the Commander; she had no compunction whatsoever to behave. “You disappoint me Commander. I thought we could be friends and I could have some really cool nickname just for you. Ah well, guess it just goes to show beauty and fame can’t buy everything.” She gave him a grin and turned to get back to the game.

Neyo kept watching, trying to understand the rules, but also just admiring the General’s athleticism and bubbly nature. She talked a lot of smack to her troopers, handling the ball well on the dribble and driving to the basket to score frequently. She wasn’t afraid to slam herself into their bodies to physically move them out of the way, and they gave it right back to her. At one point a player blocked her so hard she ended up on her butt on the floor, laughing ruefully and rubbing her sore cheek. “Nice hit Falco. Gonna pay for that though!” The game went on with varying results; Lara’s team came up one point short and the winners made a lot of noise about their loss. The men enjoyed rubbing it in her face, watching her smile sheepishly and make big promises about how the next game would go.

A command staff lieutenant ran up to ask Lara to report to the bridge. He turned to Neyo and said, “the message was for you as well, Commander.”

Lara passed the ball off to the clones so they could continue playing and turned to walk with Neyo to the bridge. As they got in the elevator, Lara took a sideways glance at the stiff clone beside her. “You dating anybody, Commander?” Her open frankness always caught him off guard.

Neyo stared straight ahead and didn’t speak for a moment. “No one in particular,” he grumbled. “You applying for the role?”

“You mean you can’t find someone with that bubbly personality of yours? I’m so shocked.” Lara huffed out a laugh.

“They don’t like all the body parts in jars in my foot locker. No one understands the value of being able to go back and study things in detail, at leisure.” He said it so smoothly Lara’s eyebrows shot up and she stood regarding him with her mouth open for a moment. He heard her close her teeth with a snap and snort a little.

“I can imagine eau de death isn’t a fragrance most girls want to smell.”

“Do I smell like death, General?,” Neyo asked her with an arched eyebrow.

“I’ll give you that much, Neeman - you don’t smell half bad. Should I feel honored that you washed up for me?” Lara smirked at him playfully.

“It’s Neyo… and I wouldn’t dare put you in a position of having to choose between myself and your Captain.” His voice smoothly purred that last out.

There was silence for a moment. “If you recall, I already told you there’d never be a choice in your favor. Remember - cattle prod, artificial insemination… I like you Neyo (yes I do know your name but since it annoys you so much, I’ll probably keep finding ways to change it). But you aren’t Rex. And, while I generally never have to resort to threats, I will say that if you try to throw Rex under the proverbial sky bus because of my relationship with him, I may be inclined to use that cattle prod sooner than the end of the world, and in ways you’d find surprising.” She shot him a hard glance with her glowing blue eyes and he stared back stonily.

“What if I enjoyed the cattle prod?” He watched her with a very flat look.

“I’m not above stuffing you in a footlocker and hiding you on a lonely planet, either. You can tell whomever you like there, as long and as loudly as you like. Besides, I know I’ve already won you over to my side.” She gave him a small conspiratorial wink as the elevator finally reached the level of the bridge and the door shot open. The pair walked forward to the holo table, behind which stood Admiral Shepherd, Fives and Primer. General Kenobi was present via holo, waiting for them to arrive so he could relay his message.

“Ah we are all here now. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to attend, General,” Kenobi said dryly.

“But of course, Obi Wan. I was teaching Marshal Commander NoNo the finer points of the use of a cattle prod on Earth. It was a riveting discussion.” Lara leaned her weight back on one foot and folded her arms over her chest, an incorrigible smirk on her face. Neyo looked at her like he’d never seen such a creature before, while Kenobi worked to decide if she was serious. He finally decided to just carry on with the reason for his communication.

“We have been able to verify the intel given us from your data piracy, and we are moving forward with plans for sending officers to those systems to see if the CIS leaders can be captured. The Jedi Council is thankful for the assistance of Dragon Company in this matter, and to you Commander Neyo, for your work in getting us there in the first place. When you return to Coruscant, you will be given new orders for your Reconnaissance Corps. Any questions?,” Kenobi asked, looking at the attendees around the table. Most of the heads shook in the negative; they understood and had nothing further to add. “Very well. We will see you when you return to Coruscant. Thank you again, General Lin.”

Lara smiled and gave him a lazy half salute with two fingers. Looking up to address the group around her, Lara said breathily, “Whelp, looks like that was the official kudos and blessing to be off the hook Commander. Attaboy, Noodles,” she said with a dramatic clap. Fives and Primer both grinned at her insistence on screwing with Neyo’s mind. Lara knocked her knuckles on the table a couple of times and then stood to leave. She was heading back down to the basketball game if they no longer needed her.

During their two day flight back to Coruscant, Neyo found small excuses to hang out in the vicinity of the General. If he was honest with himself, it was because he found her entertaining, and enjoyed the little battle of wits between them. The man was far from personable; after leaving Kamino with his birth squad he’d become frightfully solitary and taciturn. Few wanted to put up with his surly, isolated ways. He was friends with Commander Bacara, who was a similarly lonely shark, but in all honesty, Neyo stayed aloof among clones, dated when he felt the need to pick someone up for a one night stand and otherwise moved from mission to mission. He found General Lin a breath of fresh air that made him … feel… inside. Not so much attracted to her - he just found her a comforting presence, perhaps even someone he liked. It was a novel feeling for him. Regardless, she’d proven he didn’t intimidate her in the least, and that she found his gruff nature something of a challenge to conquer. Neyo had developed respect for her indomitable spirit, her battle skills and leadership acumen, and secretly he felt Rex was a truly lucky man to have won the love of this General.

As the Talon pulled back into port on Coruscant, he joined General Lin on the bridge of the ship. Admiral Shepherd was busy with the tasks of bringing such a large vessel into her berth, so Lara had the area by the windscreen by herself. She was watching the high rises and sky scrapers of the metropolis rise before her, as the Venator sank lower to the ground. Lara glanced over at her company briefly, and back out the windscreen. Neyo had become something of a skulking shadow the last couple of days, and while she didn’t mind, others had watched in amusement to near concern; Lara was notorious among the GAR and the Jedi for her antics, and none of the Dragons wanted to see her get into trouble. Outside the ship, standing on the pier, Lara recognized the familiar shape of a clone in white armor with blue accents, with a blue pauldron over the left shoulder. Neyo snuck a glance to see her wearing a little private smile on her beautiful face, her eyes shining happily at the sight.

Lara suddenly took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. “Well, Commander, it’s been a ride. I hope you enjoyed your time with the Dragon Company.” She shot him a little sideways look and grin.

“I have never been more miserable in my entire, short life. You and your Company are the biggest bunch of renegade, order refusing, nigh unprofessional soldiers I’ve ever traveled with. It’s no wonder you have the reputation you do within the GAR.” He stared back at her flatly, watching her reaction. Lara had blinked and drawn herself up, her expression one of slight befuddlement.

“Really, it was all that? Well then…” Lara pursed her lips and nodded a little to herself.

“Actually General, I would say this is the most interesting mission I’ve been on in a long time. The level of teamwork and respect between you and your men is unequaled in any of the other Companies I’ve served with. Your men love you and would follow you into any battle.” He paused and then said a bit hesitantly, “And I think I see why, now.”

She’d perked up quite a lot at his sudden change of tone. “Oh, Commander? Why is that, pray tell? Wait, wait, don’t tell me - it’s because I’m so beautiful and fantastic and irresistible that even you cannot resist my charms, isn’t it?” She delivered it with a giggle and a teasing tone.

Neyo’s ruggedly handsome face split into a smile - quite shocking for him. Lara wondered if his cheeks hurt from the stretch, and his teeth ached from the exposure to sunlight. She was shocked that they weren’t filed into sharp points. He didn’t answer immediately, trying to formulate the best reply. “I’d say it was more the lack of fear and loathing you showed me. I think most people really do think I torture small animals for entertainment, and survive off blood straight from the source. But you - you treated me like a man, no better or worse than yourself. And you didn’t let my manner insult you nor hurt your feelings. I’m not sure I’ve come up against a Jedi General of your … personality, before, and I’m impressed. If we ever get forced into another mission together, it won’t be the worst thing I’ve had happen.”

Lara accepted his words for the high praise it was, coming from this particular clone. “Wow Neyo, that was… Do I need to call someone to come check you out? You having any chest pain after all those feelings? Head spinning? I’m not gonna give you mouth to mouth but I’m totally down for foot applied CPR.” Her smile lit the room, as she laughed.

Neyo grinned back at her and put his hand over his chest. “You know General, the fact that you believe there’s even a heart to show concern over it more than most would believe. But no, all is well, I’m not having a seizure, and this was no hallucination. I will live another day to put the fear of the devil into someone.” The clone watched as General Lin turned to leave the bridge; the Talon had finally docked and taken on the mooring lines. She wanted to get to the pier to see her shore party. As she moved away, Neyo called out, “Don’t give away my secret though, General!”

He heard her laugh, and Lara turned back to face him as she kept walking backwards. “Oh don’t worry Needles. No one would believe me if I tried to tell them you have a soul in there. Your secret is safe with me. Catch you on the flip side, Commander!” She disappeared into the lift and the last Neyo saw of her was her slim form breezing down the ship’s ramp to greet Captain Rex. Her secret was safe with Neyo, as well.

[littlesoka7567]

Five + One Times Hunter Had a Migraine

Chapter Three: 3 - Crosshair

Summary: After a mission, Hunter gets one of his worst migraines yet. Crosshair wants to help.

Notes: Halfway through! I hope you guys like this one, I changed how it went about ten times lol.

WC: 2344

Tech rolls his eyes at his brothers’ complaining, face practically buried in his datapad as he walks off their ship. His helmet is still firmly in place, even though he usually takes it off on the flight home. “For your information, that move was perfectly safe. I passed my flying exams with perfect scores.”

Crosshair takes his bucket off as he exits the ship, and rolls his eyes right back, toothpick sliding between his teeth. “Doesn’t mean it was enjoyable.”

Hunter can’t help but agree. The erratic flying from Tech normally doesn’t bother him, but the unnecessary turn to fly upside down for a few seconds had rattled his brain around his skull uncomfortably. He crosses his arms over his chest, having turned to watch his crew exit the ship.

Wrecker laughs loudly, and Hunter’s eye twitches in the effort to not flinch. “I thought it was fun!” He doesn’t take his helmet all the way off, merely shoving it up so it rests on top of his head. He stomps happily down the ramp, shoving Crosshair’s shoulder playfully before throwing an arm over Tech’s shoulders. 

Hunter takes his bucket off, taking a deep breath. The high of yet another successful mission never lasts long, and the migraine is always quick to follow. But it’s already starting to appear due to the flying. 

Tech smiles at Wrecker, after taking his own bucket off. “Well I’m starving,” he announces. “I’m going straight to the mess hall.” 

Wrecker gasps, shoving his gear into Crosshair’s chest. “You don’t mind, do you?” His lips twist up into a mean smile, eyes glinting with mischief. 

Crosshair opens his mouth, likely to say that he does mind in a lot more words, but Hunter cuts him off. “Nah, you two go ahead. Me and Cross will catch up.”

Tech smirks at Crosshair, before handing his gear to Hunter. “Thank you. We will save you a seat,” he jokes. As if anyone would take their seats. 

Tech and Wrecker make their way to the mess hall, and Hunter and Crosshair turn down the other way. “I was hungry too, you know,” Crosshair complains halfheartedly. 

Hunter hums, leading them to their private barracks. Their private barracks…he’ll never get tired of thinking that. His squad worked very hard for their position as a special ops team, for their reputation. They earned it; they’re superior to the batches around the same age. Most of them are still shinies, waiting for their chance to even see a frontline. Not his team. 

“I know,” Hunter says, shaking his head a bit. His migraine is growing quickly. “Just help me carry it back and you can go down.”

“You won’t be joining me?” Crosshair asks, toothpick rolling from one side of his mouth to the other. 

“No,” Hunter says, and he clenches his jaw. He suddenly feels nauseous; the sign of a really bad migraine. It doesn’t happen often, only his worst headaches affect him this badly. 

“Are you…alright?” Crosshair asks, opening their door. Hunter lays Tech’s gear down, and starts stripping himself of his own armor. Usually he leaves it on for a bit; right now, the sound it makes as it rubs against the other pieces is making his teeth hurt. 

“Sure,” Hunter lies, turning to Crosshair and forcing a smile. Crosshair has never, not even once, believed Hunter when the older clone attempts to downplay his pain. 

Crosshair bites the toothpick, narrowing his eyes. He puts Wrecker’s stuff down, and starts taking his own armor off. “How bad is it?” Crosshair asks softly. 

Hunter sighs, sitting on his bunk in just his blacks and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Bad,” he says. Then another wave of nausea hits him, and he clenches his teeth tightly together. 

“Are you going to be sick?” Crosshair asks, and the toothpick lands somewhere to Hunter’s right. The other clone shifts his weight, staring at Hunter. 

“I hope not,” Hunter gasps out after a beat, looking up again. He winces at the bright fluorescent light, covering his entire face with his hands almost immediately. 

There’s a few heartbeats where Crosshair just stares, slowly taking off his own armor in order to be quiet. Then the door opens and closes, and Hunter groans loudly. 

Normally he tries to hide his pain as best he can, but when he’s alone, he allows himself to vent. “Oh no,” he groans, mashing his teeth together. He briefly considers making a run for the fresher, but the thought of going back into the hall with all those blindingly white walls makes him hesitate. 

Hunter doesn’t even notice when Crosshair comes back in, a testament to how much pain he’s in. He doesn’t notice until Crosshair’s finger digs into Hunter’s jaw joint, making Hunter gasp and look up, betrayed. 

Crosshair rolls his eyes, waving the towel he retrieved around. “Don’t clench your jaw. Tech says it makes it worse.”

“I’m going to throw up if I don’t,” Hunter argues, reaching for the towel. He’s right, though; Tech has made it very clear that tension in his jaw makes the headaches worse. It’s why he hates eating when he gets a migraine, even if he isn’t nauseous. Not only does the sound of himself chewing grate him, but the way his teeth press together to chew hurts. 

Crosshair holds it just out of reach, a smirk on his lips. Hunter would roll his own eyes if it didn’t feel like they would pop out. “Let me help you,” Crosshair asks. Even though he’s pretending he wants to be annoying, the eyes always give Crosshair away. He can morph the rest of his face into a cocky, careless expression; but his eyes always betray his worry. 

Crosshair has always been the first one to volunteer to help Hunter, and he does it whenever he notices Hunter in pain. When they were younger, he would cuddle with Hunter in his pod. When they got too big to share a pod, he would keep watch and hush any rowdy boy who walked by. Once Tech found out how to best help Hunter, though, it’s always been more hands-on; Crosshair is always ready to get the towel or caf or whatever Hunter needs; always ready to massage Hunter’s temples or do whatever else Hunter could possibly want. 

Hunter doesn’t like accepting help, though. He’s the Sargent, he’s their leader, he’s the big brother. Hunter is supposed to protect and help his brothers, not the other way around. That’s been drilled into him basically since he was decanted. But sometimes, when Hunter’s headaches are really bad…he can’t find it in himself to put up a fight. 

Hunter hesitates, but he nods slowly. “Alright. You can help.”

Crosshair steps closer, his knees almost touching Hunter’s, and hands Hunter the towel. He reaches out and carefully unties Hunter’s bandana. He lays it next to Hunter’s helmet, before he sits at the top of Hunter’s bed, moving the pillow behind his back. 

Hunter lays himself down on the bed, letting his neck rest on Crosshair’s thigh and his head take up the space left by his brother’s crossed legs. Even though he doesn’t allow his brother to do this often, the position is very familiar and comforting already. 

He hands the towel back to Crosshair, looking up at him once more before closing his eyes. 

Crosshair hums softly in encouragement, and carefully lays the towel over Hunter’s eyes. The relief is subtle but immediate, and Hunter releases a soft sigh. “Better?” Crosshair drawls, a teasing lilt to his voice. He knows Hunter feels better when he allows himself to be taken care of. He never takes as good care of himself as one of his brothers does. Hunter usually tries to ignore it if he can, forcing on a brave face around his squad. If he can’t, he’s more likely to lay down by himself and tell his brothers he’ll be fine than he is to accept help. His pride is a beast of its own; something his squad are well aware of by now. 

Hunter gives a thumbs up, scared that he might be sick if he opens his mouth. 

Crosshair starts by gently rolling his thumbs over Hunter’s temples, creating small circles. The angle makes it a bit awkward, but Crosshair always manages. 

They sit in silence for several minutes, and Hunter feels slightly better with each deep breath. His hands rest crossed over his stomach, and he tries to focus on his deep breathing like Tech taught him. The nausea slowly fades, but the headache is still killing him. 

Crosshair’s thumbs still, and he just stares down at Hunter for a moment. 

Hunter huffs, the pain already returning. “Cross?” He whispers, tensing up. 

Crosshair doesn’t answer at first. Hunter starts to reach up for the towel, but Crosshair pushes his hand away gently. “Let me try something,” he demands softly. 

Hunter is confused, but he shrugs against Crosshair’s thigh. He hurts too much to be suspicious. “Alright,” Hunter agrees. 

The fingers of Crosshair’s left hand gently card through Hunter’s hair, and the sensation is surprisingly nice. Hunter melts into it immediately, a surprised gasp escaping his lips. 

Crosshair chuckles deeply, and Hunter will never get over how unique the laugh is. Even though Crosshair is a clone, his voice is so distinct and different from any other Hunter has ever heard. 

His fingers go all the way to the ends of Hunter’s strands, before the slight tug ends and the hair falls loose again. Then he starts again, at Hunter’s hairline, and cards his fingers all the way to the ends again, before letting them fall. 

The experience is unlike anything Hunter has ever felt before. The sound of Crosshair’s fingers gliding through the thick locks. The feel of Crosshair’s short nails scratching at his scalp for just a second at every pass. The surge of relief as the barely-there tug releases. He never even notices the pressure is there until it’s gone. 

“Oh,” Hunter whispers, his entire body melting into the mattress below him. Crosshair hums, a pleased sound, his right hand gently tapping a rhythm into the thigh Hunter’s neck isn’t cushioned against.

He never wants for Crosshair to stop. The pain isn’t gone, but it fades into the background, almost unnoticeable. His nausea is completely gone, and it’s almost bliss. 

Crosshair keeps it up for several minutes, his fingers starting at different areas on his scalp and working slowly through the locks. His right hand eventually joins as well, and the doubled sensation nearly puts Hunter to sleep. 

Hunter sighs deeply, fingers flexing where they’re crossed over his stomach. Crosshair gives a contented sigh in response, obviously pleased at being allowed to help his older brother. 

Hunter’s so relaxed and out of it, that he doesn't hear anyone approaching until the door slides open and Wrecker’s booming voice fills the room. “You guys have been in here for ages, what’s taking-oh.” 

Crosshair’s fingers still in Hunter’s hair, and Hunter fights back a whine. “Shut it, Wrecker,” Crosshair hisses, his left hand resuming the slow movements and the right gesturing. 

“Sorry,” Wrecker whisper-yells, tiptoeing over to his bunk. It always makes Hunter want to laugh, at how Wrecker can try so hard to be quiet and fail so miserably. It’s endearing, really. There’s a bit of shuffling for a moment, and then the soft footfalls are making their way back to Hunter’s bunk. 

Hunter opens his hands, and Lula is carefully placed inside of them. Hunter can’t help but smile, crossing his fingers over her stomach instead. 

Wrecker moves back to the couch by the window, and it sinks under his weight as he sits.  

“Anything I might do to help?” Tech asks in a low voice. He’s still by the door, and he must be looking at them because the sounds of his fingers typing on the datapad are absent. 

“I got it,” Crosshair says, his right hand moving back down. His thumb starts to rub circles into Hunter’s temple again, and that combined with the fingers carding through his hair makes a contented sigh escape Hunter’s lips. 

“Are you sure?” Tech whispers, stepping closer. “You have not eaten yet,” he reminds the silver-haired clone. 

Crosshair makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, but he doesn’t stop his movements again. “I’ll have a ration bar when he falls asleep.”

The fact that Hunter knows Crosshair is hungry, but he’ll settle for a ration bar from their supplies instead of going down to the mess hall before it closes makes Hunter squirm. He already hates accepting help; allowing them to put himself before their own needs messes with Hunter’s sense of duty. “No, Cross, it’s-”

“Shh,” Crosshair shushes him, gently moving the cloth over Hunter’s eyes to line up more with his eyebrows. “You already said you would let me take care of you. Can’t take it back now.”

“I can take over,” Tech suggests matter-of-factly. 

“You know how you can help?” Crosshair says, not hiding the annoyance from his voice. “Hunter’s report will be due in less than 24 hours. Why don’t you do it for him, so he doesn’t have to worry about it?”

Hunter frowns deeply, reaching up for the towel. His hand is slapped away again, and he huffs. “No, no. I’m feeling so much better, Cross. I can do my own reports.”

Tech tsks softly. “I will do it better than you, anyway,” he says. He moves to grab Hunter’s datapad, and sits at his workbench. 

Hunter scoffs. “Okay, unnecessary jab,” he accuses. 

Crosshair chuckles softly, his fingers scratching at Hunter’s scalp. “Relax. You were almost asleep before.”

Hunter sighs in defeat, forcing himself to relax back into the bed again. “Fine. Just this once.”

Crosshair snickers almost silently, and pulls a toothpick out of his pack before getting back into the rhythm of combing his fingers through Hunter’s hair with one hand and rubbing his temple with the other. “Just this once,” he echoes the lie.

[burnwater13]

Boba Fett instructing the Sandpeople on the direction of travel as they go after spice runners. The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 2, The Tribes of Tatooine. Calendar from DataWorks.

“Ready? Set? GO!”

At least that’s what Grogu thought was going on when Daimyo Fett described the situation, that got all the Sandpeople to line up on the speeder bikes that way. 

“Ready, set go? No, young one, that is not what I was saying to them. But I see your point. When the Clones were training on Kamino, they held many foot races and that is how they would start. I was telling them the direction and what to expect. We were going after spice runners. Those scum have always been a problem on Tatooine.”

“Boss, that may be true but the spice trade paid for a lot of the amenities here, including that bacta tank you’re so fond of.”

Grogu didn’t really know why that mattered. After all, the Jedi built almost all of their temples on top of old Sith temples. Just because something was bad didn’t mean everything to do with it was bad, or did it? Grogu wasn’t sure. 

He decided to ask his dad, who had just entered the room, with the Majordomo following him, talking a klick a minute while some how managing to sputter and sound apologetic.

“Hey, Fett. Your … uh… man here, says I can’t park the N1 in the forecourt. I’m willing to move it, but to where? I don’t want anyone taking pot shots at it.”

“Is this true?” Daimyo Fett aimed his question at Majordomo who was already bowing and trying to look small and unassuming. 

Grogu giggled at that. There was no way for a man that tall with lekku that long to look small or unassuming. 

“Remember Boss, I have that work crew coming in to do some improvements. No way are we letting anyone access to facility the same way we did when we retrieved your ship.”

“What are doing? Adding a pit trap and spikes?” 

Grogu tried not to laugh as he watched Fennec physically bristle at his dad’s suggestion and turn to the Majordomo and scold him for blabbing.

“Fennec, there’s no reason to use language like that in front of the child. He looks up to you, you know.”

Grogu smiled at the Daimyo. That was a nice sentiment but completely unnecessary. He liked Fennec just the way she was.

“He has to look up at everyone, Boss. Listen, Tin Man, just park your ship behind the rancor yard. We don’t have any bantha right now, so you won’t have to share it.”

Grogu was about to scold Fennec for the short joke, when he heard the rest of what she said. The bantha were gone? Where were they? When were they coming back? Why were they gone?!

“Now, now, young one. Don’t worry about the bantha. The tribe that you and your dad befriended near Freetown asked if they could add the few head we had here to their breeding program. We had two females and they could use them to help add to the over all population of banthas. After they have been bred they will be coming back here.”

“Won’t that be nice? Baby critters that are as big as a speeder when they’re born. But that won’t be for months. In the mean time that’s where you can…”

Grogu didn’t hear anything else Fennec said. The prospect of having baby banthas at the palace was almost overwhelming. He loved baby critters. They were so sweet and smelled so good and maybe, if he was very lucky he could have one of them imprint on him and he’d be able to ride it without having his dad tag along all the time. That would be so great. He could see himself making his way from Freetown to Mos Espa the way the Sandpeople had traveled for millennia. 

“Buddy, before you take your flight of fancy to Coruscant and back, I’m gonna remind you that all bantha are the property of the Sandpeople and they need daily care. We don’t spend enough time here for you to be adopted by one.”

Grogu sighed and sat down abruptly. His dad had really popped the bubble that had been forming all around the idea of being a bantha baby minder. Dank Farrik.

“Tell me, Din Djarin, how did you know that’s what he was thinking?”

Daimyo Fett asked quietly, just not quietly enough.

“He was holding his hands in the air and moving them like he was holding the reins of their rig. I could also tell that he was muttering something like ‘forward’ over and over. He does the same thing whenever people talk about that rancor of yours.”

“He’s just practicing for the first time he rides a Mythosaur. Lucky for you two he’s going to be a benevolent Mand’alor.”

Grogu could hear Fennec’s laughter, but strangely his dad and the Daimyo were both silent. He wondered what that meant.

[hush-writes-preg]

Can you do a story about Mpreg but a guy having a woman’s body

When you'd signed up for humanity's inaugural voyage to Alpha Centauri, you'd known how highly experimental the process was-- even with the technological advancements of your day, a manned ship would still take over three hundred years to arrive at the system.  No human could hope to make that trip in a single lifetime, but thanks to some ground-breaking science and a whole lot of ingenuity, a solution had been found.  A small crew would juggle cryostasis and short maintenance shifts during the flight, taking care of the ship and eventually triggering the growth of a batch of clones meant to house copies of the digitalized consciousnesses of you and your team once you arrived. 

It sounded great on paper, sure.  But three hundred years was plenty of time for something to go wrong.

The steady beeping of medical monitoring equipment woke you from your sleep, the sound shrill in ears unaccustomed to sound.  Fluid from the cloning tank still slicked your skin and left your nostrils filled with its pungent medicinal scent as your pod opened and sent you slumping unceremoniously to a grated metal floor.  Coughing, spitting, you struggled to clear your lungs of the viscous liquid and swiped at your face, trying to clean your eyes enough that you could take your first look at your newly replicated body.

Except it wasn't yours.  Not really.

On the day you'd had your brain scanned for the project, you'd been a tall, strapping military man in your mid-forties.  But what you saw when you opened your eyes was the nubile form of a young woman with luscious curves, your bare, ample breasts hanging under you as you knelt on the floor.  And that wasn't the only thing hanging under you-- the massive dome of a near-term pregnancy rested between your outstretched knees, and inside it, something moved. 

"Fuck," you whispered, your voice much higher pitched than you were used to hearing.  You instinctively clutched at your belly, unnerved when something kicked against your outstretched fingers. 

You didn't have a clue what had happened during the flight, but you sure as hell were going to find out.  As soon as you found a way to get yourself off of this damned floor.

[icantescapemikewheeler]

Apparently Tumblr wants to know more about Mike Wheeler's clone (aka Eduardo) so here's all of the lore I can think of off the top of my head:

- Eduardo is a clone of Mike Wheeler that was created in Hawkins lab. Why did they clone Mike Wheeler? They just did.

- Eduardo looks exactly like Mike Wheeler except he is always wearing Mike's airport outfit ™

- Eduardo is completely fluent in Spanish (it's his first language) and has some sort of strange innate ability to access and reference pop culture from the future. A prime example of this is the song Despacito.

- Eduardo uses Despacito as a curse word. Eventually Mike begins to as well because Eduardo starts rubbing off on him and it pisses him off SO MUCH.

- If it wasn't already apparent, Mike HATES Eduardo.

- Eduardo loves Mike, and for some reason thinks that he is his long lost brother José.

- Eduardo eventually escapes the lab and becomes a sort of Hawkins cryptid. He unintentionally gets Mike in trouble for the things that he does because everyone just assumes that he's Mike (because who would EVER imagine that Mike has a clone who speaks Spanish and is in love with the Chupacabra (me)).

- Eduardo makes his entrance into our favourite characters' lives when he accidentally hops on board a plane to California (his reasons for this are unclear, but seeing as he is Eduardo, that makes sense).

- Eduardo arrives to greet the Byers and Argyle at the airport. They immediately all sense that something's off about 'Mike' and Argyle proclaims that he is, in fact, not Mike, but "a shitty knockoff".

- As it turns out, the REAL Mike's flight was delayed so he arrives a few hours later and meets HIM.

- Eduardo essentially joins the California crew to go and rescue El. He sits in the trunk the whole time because Mike refuses to make physical contact with him.

- Within a few seconds of meeting Will and Mike, Eduardo KNOWS. He is a Byler shipper and is tortured by how oblivious the both of them are. His Byler-based frustration evokes a sizable amount of "Despacito"s.

- Mike has no idea Eduardo can speak English, as he only speaks Spanish around him. Mike also has a C in Spanish at school so he can't understand anything Eduardo says at all. As it turns out, Argyle is a surprisingly good translator.

- Obviously, because Eduardo is a clone of Mike, he's head over heels in love with El. As in El Chupacabra, the cryptid goat sucker. Once he learns about the concept of a "celebrity crush", he decides that his is El Chupacabra, and makes it his mission to find it. "El Chupacabra mi amor"

- When the crew arrives back in Hawkins, they decide that Murray should hide Eduardo in his bunker, at least until everything blows over. This turns into Murray accidentally adopting Eduardo as his weird little surrogate son.

- Eduardo stays locked in the bunker for the duration of the events of season five. After the final battle is won, Eduardo's world changes forever. He gets a roommate. His roommate is Henry Creel.

- A now powerless Henry and Eduardo form a strange sort of brotherly bond while being locked up in the bunker. However, there is one force that threatens the strength of their relationship: veggie tales.

- Somehow, through his ability to access future pop culture, Eduardo gets his hands on a VHS tape of an entire season of veggie tales. He loves it. He watches it every day. Henry DETESTS it. He wants it to stop. When the two are finally deemed responsible enough to start integrating themselves into society, Henry emerges rambling about the singing vegetables (which makes Murray regret his decision of letting him out).

- For some strange reason, only characters with a connection to the upside down can see the veggie tales tape. To anyone else, the screen just plays static. In a moment of weakness and desperation, Henry brings the tape to El and falls down on his knees sobbing, begging her to destroy the evil that is veggie tales. She has no idea that veggie tales is just a tv show, and Henry makes it sound super dangerous, so she uses her powers to obliterate the tape. (It took Henry FOREVER to be able to get into contact with her, since literally everyone else in Hawkins was doing their best to make sure they DIDN'T interact).

- When Eduardo finds out about the broken tape he is DEVESTATED. He goes into mourning for two weeks. He doesn't speak to anyone, he doesn't smile, he doesn't do anything. One day, he finds out that Henry destroyed the tape and he is FURIOUS. Eduardo drags Henry to the sheriff's office and tells Hopper that Henry killed Bob and Larry.

- Hopper has no idea that Bob and Larry are vegetables, and since this is Henry Creel being accused of murder YET AGAIN, he locks him up right away. Henry tries to plead his case by telling everyone who will listen that "THEY'RE JUST VEGETABLES" but it only makes things worse.

- That night while Henry is sitting in his cell, the vent on the ceiling breaks open and Eduardo crawls through it. He promptly breaks Henry out of prison, leaving him dumbfounded as to why Eduardo would save him if he got him locked up in the first place. When he asks Eduardo about this, he wipes a single tear from his left eye and says "Bob and Larry... are right here." He puts his hand on his heart. Eduardo promptly removes a tomato and a cucumber from his shirt pocket

- Eduardo also canonically hates Hopper, and has tried to kill him three times. One time involved axe body spray, another hitting him with a pan, and a third lying to him about his wife and child being at the end of the rainbow.

(some tagging because people who reblogged the og post might appreciate: @moomiiii @screamingfrenchfries @mikewontstopwhiningaboutit )

[thevibraniumveterans]

《The Mandalorian》『SEASON 3 : Episode 8 - Chapter 24』-「THE RETURN」

SPOILERS!

Thoughts on rewatch……

This episode picks up where last episode leaves off. Did not expect the jetpack to last that long for Axe; given that the fleet was just outside atmosphere.

Bo Katan has a plan. Normally, her plans (just like anyone else’s plans) don’t quite go as intended. But she’s confident, and sends Axe up to the ship.

Ever the leader, she charges in but brings up the rear, setting a detonator charge to buy her some time.

Din is bound between two troopers, and we get a first-person POV from inside his helmet. I’d assumed one’s line of sight from inside the helmet wasn’t much, but I’m wrong.

Din asks Grogu, “You with me?” The music soars from the drums (important later), straight into the theme music.

Din contacts Bo-Katan and lets her know he and Grogu are okay for the time being, and tells her what he’s doing. She updates him on her plan, and tells him to “stay safe”. No surprise, the camera immediately cuts to the Captain, and the crew leaves their current predicament.

Next scene is the TIE/IN Interceptors. They hang upside down like bats, and they drop and take off like them too. It ups the scary factor, as they can launch with little notice. We also see bombers screaming skyward to the flagship. The shot of numerous TIE fighters shooting out of a hole in Mandalore’s surface is just… something else to see.

Gideon puts on his helmet, and when he says “I’ll take care of them myself”, he sounds a lot like Darth Vader.

The shots of R5, Din, and Grogu sneaking around the base feels A LOT like the sequence in A New Hope where R2D2, Kenobi, Han, Luke, and Chewbacca are sneaking around the Death Star. It’s also interesting how Din speaking to Grogu is sort of a meta-narration, so we learn the details the same time Grogu is hearing it.

Axe notifies command, and sends all his troops down to the planet. He orders them to leave the capital ship. At this point I’m thinking, “Axe is crazy! That’s incredibly self-sacrificing!” But then I remember loyalty is one of the best traits any Mandalorian has, so it’s no surprise he’s willing to do what it takes to help defeat Gideon and his army. Axe’s troops head down to the waiting Gauntlets, and they dive toward the surface. The Gauntlets are accompanied by several smaller fighter ships. I really love the shot where the Gauntlets descend to the planet, the camera lingers above the clouds, and not a few seconds later, the TIE Interceptors shoot out from beneath the clouds and up to the capital ship. The Mandos going down, and the Imperials going up, it is a foreshadow for a later scene, but I’ll explain that later. How ships of both parties never hit each other is beyond me, but smart of the Mandos to use the cloud as cover.

Axe trying his damndest to stay put in the pilot’s seat is a feat in and of itself. He’s fighting the fight/flight instinct. I’ve never seen anything like it.

The scene where Din instructs R5 to keep opening the laser shield doors one at a time is pretty intense, it’s like each door he passes, the level of difficulty goes up. The first pair of guards Din fights, he grabs a knife and fights with it momentarily and throws it at one guard, and he tries to get it back, and he fails. He doesn’t let that stop him. He gets another knife from the first downed guard and tells R5 to open shield #2. The weapons get bigger, and the guards get tougher. He fights messy, but acquires an electro-staff and an actual shield. He instructs R5 to open shield #3. He loses the knife, acquires a blaster. R5 gets intercepted, but does not back down, and opens shield #4. Din loses a shield, but retains the blaster; he shoots the last few guards a few times for good measure. Din now has two blasters. He went from being weaponless to being fully-armed. After all, weapons are part of his religion.

Din and Grogu pass clones of Gideon. This might be a bit of a canonical throwback, but the fact that Gideon has been able to clone himself kind of points to why the Empire, years ago, was looking for Omega from the Bad Batch. She was one of the special ones. Even so, last episode, Gideon says that cloning was not his obsession; clearly that was a lie, but also a misdirect, since he did say about his beskar armor, “the most impressive improvement is that it has me in it.” That, was not a lie. It was a foreshadow. Din shuts down the tanks, which explode, and he and Grogu leave.

Even though Bo and her troops arrive at their very temporary shelter (as they leave literally right after this), it’s not simply just worldbuilding. The Captain explains that though he and his crew have had to cultivate the plants, it was a giant metaphor for just how stubborn Mandalore and its people are. The Empire bombed the planet until it looked like there was nothing left, and yet, and YET people, plants, and animals clung to life. Life on Mandalore does NOT quit. The Captain says, “Life persists.” Bo admits, “I’ve only ever seen gardens in the domed cities.” To which the captain replies, “All they need is room to grow.” Fitting metaphor for the Mandalorians themselves.

Bo’s troops go up, Axe’s troops go down, and they reunite as a single deadly fighting force. Bo takes out the Darksaber - as she believed that it is only with the blade she can reunite her people. This is not really true, and I’ll explain why later. The Mandalorian troops head back down into the planet, and are met with ascending Imperials. Remember the foreshadow earlier when the Gauntlets went down then the TIEs went up? That was a foreshadow for this scene! And what an aerial battle it is. I have never in my life watched a jetpack battle between people in Mandalorian armor. It’s a really awesome scene. The reason why Bo can actually wield the Darksaber is because her goals and feelings regarding her people and her planet are very, very clear - she may not want to rule Mandalore, but she sure as hell wants her home planet and her people back. We hear the frantic but controlled alto instruments, but also the bass line of the Mandalorian theme song playing as the clash begins.

Gideon thought he could “[isolate] the potential to wield the Force” (that’s what he wanted from Grogu a season or two back), but the Force is not something you “get”, it’s something you have. You either have it or you don’t. If you don’t have it you can’t wield it. Gideon’s movements are calculated, controlled rage. His movements sound like there is a robot behind the suit rather than a human, making him seem more menacing. He lets Din face the Praetorians alone. Much like their real world counterparts, Praetorians are elite guards. When Grogu becomes a target, the Guards rush after him. Din tries to run after Grogu, but gets repeatedly downed by Gideon. We see an unnamed Mandolorian warrior make use of her knee blasters. The battle rages on three fronts: The Praetorians are attacking Grogu, Gideon fights Din, and the Mandalorians exchange blaster fire with the Imperials. Bo Katan spears one through the midsection with the Darksaber - brutal, but necessary. She comes in with a flying kick, aided by her jetpack, and downs Gideon. She tells Din to get Grogu. Bo fighting with a saber is definitely NOT the first time we see a non-Force sensitive person wield a saber (see: Han in ESB (briefly), and Sabine Wren in Rebels). Also love how Grogu is just casually using the Force to aid Din, and Din doesn’t even know it (maybe he does).

Meanwhile, the capitol ship is on a downward trajectory that cannot be corrected: this is intentional; Axe meant for this to happen. He will crash the ship into the base, the only way to hurt Gideon where it matters most. Gideon knocks her down, but Bo is furious, gets back up, and lunges. Gideon destroys the Darksaber, removing the one thing Bo thought she could use to reunite her people. Suddenly, she is alone again; in the sense that she theoretically loses authority. Gideon states, “You’ve lost everything.” For context, Obi-Wan had told Anakin in AOTC that a saber is a very precious possession, and extremely meaningful to one’s life. To lose it is tantamount to losing one’s life and meaning. So, to Bo, it’s like she lost everything, all over again. Gideon taunts her, saying “Mandalorians are weak once they lose their trinkets.” This is not true. Last episode, Din told her he’s not loyal to some weapon. The Darksaber means NOTHING to him, and now Bo realizes this. She’s had enough of the power grabs and divisions that the Darksaber has caused between Mandalorians, and she fires back: “Mandalorians are stronger together.” Which is her journey so far. She realizes this only now because if not for what had happened to her, she would not have known this otherwise. The Darksaber is but a mythical weapon, ultimately meaning nothing. Bo has stated last episode, “Mandalore has always been too powerful for any enemy to defeat. It is always our own division that destroys us.” Meaning, the Darksaber is nothing but a curse; without it, the Mandalorians come together NOT BECAUSE OF A BLADE, but to retake their damn homeworld once and for all. Bo did not have to worry about some blade. To nobody’s surprise, the moment she utters this, Din comes marching in with Grogu, blasters firing.

The ship is still going down; at this point I’m thinking, “Axe is on a suicide mission!” But then, right after I finish the thought, he shoots out a window and escapes, free to fight another day. His and Bo’s troops evacuate the base. The ship crashes into the base; Din, Gideon, and Bo face off. Din gets hit on the wrist, and Bo comes to his rescue, shielding him. The place explodes around them, Grogu uses the Force to disadvantage Gideon; Din rushes to protect Grogu, and Bo rushes to protect them both. The flames engulf everyone. It looks like they might not survive this, BUT BUT BUT! Grogu saves the day! He is using the Force to create a bubble to shield Din and Bo. This scene feels so familiar because it feels like a heroic inversion of that one scene in S4E8 of Rebels, “Jedi Night”, where Kanan uses the Force to hold back an explosion to save the Ghost crew but sacrifice himself; here Grogu saves both Bo AND Din from the flames. Bo is astonished; she looks from around her, to Din, and finally down at Grogu, like she can’t believe she’s alive. The flames around them dissipate, and both Mandalorians stand up, and we cut to black. It’s not over.

Remember the drums I mentioned earlier? The Mandos are at the Mines of Mandalore, where Ragnar finally gets to be properly baptized, as his last attempt didn’t go so well. Din practically adopts Grogu right there and then, and the Armorer approves. Someone mentioned once that it took so long for Din to call Grogu his son, because he started off a mission but now Din has grown close enough to basically be a dad. It was about time that happened.

So the thing with names- “Din Grogu”, right? I’m thinking, what if, if “Grogu” is a first name, and “Din” is something like a last name, only put before his first name “Djarin”? Therefore “Din Grogu” would make sense on a lastname-firstname basis. It’s not the same with Bo-Katan, or Axe Woves, or even Sabine Wren, for that matter. If Din and Grogu are a Clan of Two, then clearly it should be called Clan Din. It only makes sense that way, that in Clan Din there is Djarin and Grogu. This is the way names work, I think?

The Armorer states, “You must leave Mandalore and take your apprentice on his journeys, just as your teacher did for you.” And why, you might ask? This is the fulfillment of the Hero’s Journey: the Hero returns to whence he came, after a call to adventure, where he meets supernatural aid and comes across guardians, mentors, and friends; he reaches a revelation, a rebirth, after which he transforms, atones, with the gift of the “Goddess”, and returns. Din had started his journey on the call to adventure, and meets Grogu, his supernatural aid. Greef Karga is his mentor and friend. Bo is also his friend and ally. Din’s revelation is sort of him removing his helmet; his transformation, he changes because of how he feels toward Grogu. However, he must atone for that, so he requests that Bo guide him to the Mines so he can baptize himself in the Living Waters to atone. Then he returns to Mandalore to help fight Gideon, and subsequently also returns to his starting point, as a gunman and bounty hunter for hire.

Bo, the Armorer, and the rest of the Mandalorians meet at the Great Forge, finally able to reclaim Mandalore after so many years. The Armorer hands Bo-Katan Kryze a torch, and she lights the Forge. It roars to life, symbolic of the Mandalorians being one once more. The Mandalorians have finally come home, UNITED, and it wasn’t even a blade that reunited them.

Din returns to the rebel base. Some time passes, and he returns to Nevarro. Greef Karga gifts him a home for between assignments, and Din gifts Karga his IG-11 droid back, but improved. For what is perhaps one of the few moments in his life, Din has peace. He sits outside his new home, his N1 parked just outside, and watches Grogu practice his abilities.

===

FINISHING THOUGHTS:

1. I loved this episode, largely in part due to the aerial fights and carefully planned shots. The characters I theorized last week could show up, didn’t, and that’s okay. They didn’t, because they didn’t need to.

2. I also loved the foreshadowing, the visual references, the metaphors. I also loved how the Darksaber is no more. Don’t get me wrong, it is an AWESOME weapon, but it has plagued the Mandalorians for far too long, and has been one of the things that divided them. Struggles for power and all that, all for a blade. It took ages of infighting, division, it took Din telling Bo that the blade didn’t matter to him; it took Gideon finally destroying the very thing that divided the people of Mandalore, for Bo-Katan Kryze to finally, FINALLY, realize that Mandalorians are stronger together. It’s not that she didn’t know, it was that she chased after the blade like her people before her did; now that she doesn’t even have it, she doesn’t even need it! And she is still able to unite her people! WITHOUT THE BLADE!

3. Something about the Great Forge being “the heart of our civilization” (per Axe, last episode), and the Mandalorian creed vows about the words being forged into their hearts, I’m not quite sure how to put into words this association but there’s certainly something there.

4. More thoughts on the Hero’s Journey and episode titles of The Mandalorian:

- S1E3Ch3 : The Sin (“Temptation”/“Threshold”)

- S1E7Ch7 : The Reckoning

- S1E8Ch8 : Redemption

- S2E3Ch11 : The Heiress (“Goddess”)

- S2E6Ch14 : The Tragedy

- S2E8Ch16 : The Rescue

- S3E1Ch17 : The Apostate (“Transformation”)

- S3E3Ch19 : The Convert (“Atonement”)

- S3E8Ch24 : The Return

5. Overall, excellent episode, very much looking forward to Season 4. Which might take place either concurrently to, or after the events of, the Ahsoka series. I guess we’ll find out eventually.

[cookinguptales]

Despite being a Nandermo shipper, in the end I really wanted Guillermo to have experienced a happy, normal and loving relationship. Because our boy deserved some of good stuffs happening to him after being fucking shipped into a crate across a fucking ocean !

Of course it couldn't work in the long run, because he is a murderer that want to become a blood sucking monster... And also is extremely co-dependent with Nandor and all that. But he could have had a little treat ! I thought that the downfall of the relationship would be the incompatibility of it with his chosen lifestyle, or him realising that when compared to Nandor Freddie was bland / not exciting at all.

But no ! In the end Freddie is just a freaking cheater that doesn't really care about Guillermo and their relationship ! I am pretty sure even the flight to New-York was more of an excuse to have a free guide while being a tourist than to actually be with Guillermo.

I agree that with the casualness with which he cheated on Guillermo it's highly likely that he cheated before Nandor and his clone ... And again super sad for Guillermo.

I was right on the blandness / boringness of the guy though. My god that roomba joke was terrible.

Can't wait for Nandor getting the stick out his ass, realise how in love in Guillermo he is and worshipping the hell outta him. It's what our boy deserves !

See, with the preface that I really do adore Guillermo and he’s probably my favorite character on tv… I was not rooting for him to have a healthy relationship with a normal guy who loves him! I do not think he deserves that, I do not think he’s capable of that, and I do not think that he even truly wants that, though he obviously thinks he does. 

What I think I wanted was for Guillermo to attempt to have this relationship with this genuinely nice man who respected him, but then to realize that he’s just not capable of maintaining a normal relationship. What I love most about Guillermo is that he truly believes he’s the only normal one in the room — but he’s just as crazy as the rest of them. He’s always looking into the camera like he fully believes he’s the straight man (…so to speak) in this situation! And I adore it when they cut directly from Guillermo being like “haha, they’re so crazy” to him doing something twice as insane himself. 

You do not fool the camera crew, Guillermo, and you do not fool me!

I wanted this truly nice guy to come visit and I wanted it to go to absolute hell. I wanted this man to find out that Guillermo had been lying to him like he breathed this entire time, or maybe get put in terrible danger due to Guillermo’s lifestyle, or even just realize that he was dating a literal serial killer and leave. I wanted Guillermo to have to confront the fact that he gave up his chance at normal well over a decade ago and that he is well and truly one of the household — with all of the awful things that implies about him.

Guillermo really acts like he’s above the vampires while seemingly wanting to join them, and I wanted him to have to confront that he is where he belongs and that all of the awful things that happen to him are a direct result of his own choices — but so are all the good things. 

I also would have been very chill with Guillermo getting bored with his very normal man and realizing that he craves the chaos and challenge of the vampiric world. But that really would have been the same situation, or even one that could be combined with the first… It’s still just Guillermo coming to realize that he is too far removed from humanity to reintegrate into it whenever he pleases. More importantly, it's him being forced to accept that he is the one who removed himself. 

I guess, in the end, I ship nandermo because I believe that both of them are disasters that truly deserve each other, for better or for worse. They both have bags upon bags of issues, but their issues intersect in largely complementary ways. (Which is, I think, how they ended up becoming so codependent in the first place.)

I do also think that once they finally get their heads out of their asses and get together, some of their issues will mellow out considerably (the abandonment issues, lying, lack of trust, an almost pathological need to be needed, etc.) while others will be uhhhh… exacerbated. (Violent tendencies, jealousy, possessiveness, tunnel vision, etc.) I feel like they’ll be an unholy terror together and I am unbelievably here for that. They will worship at the altar of each other’s issues and then go out murdering together and the world is not prepared at all. lmao

but yeah, I fully agree about how bland and disappointing Freddie turned out to be. (And that he probably just wanted to visit NYC, not Guillermo specifically.) Real missed opportunity imo but like. I ain’t the show runner, I just write self-indulgent fanfic. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(……..and yes I am fully writing a fic now that deals with all these issues. lmao)