#ithor

[scrublord27]

Back from vacation, so uh, here’s this unfinished Item Asylum fanart I didn’t bother finishing.

[kaiserscissors]

regretevator oc & ithor + lisa design

[steffyanie]

one of my swrpg characters was a botonist ithorian...... because ithorians are the best

[sw5w]

This Vote is Very Important

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:04:05

[gahmah-raan]

Star Wars: Paranormalities: Episode I - Chapter 1: Five Years Later cover art - The Admiral’s Armor.

Putting both the logoed and un-logoed versions for archival purposes.

Apparently, Admiral Marx Gravlek’s power suit got updated from the original design. Namely, he has his audio receptors close to his ears now, and he has visual sensors on both shoulders.

[antennas-to-heaven]

meteorite night

[inscrutable-shadow]

thinking about thanatos peforming edgar allan poe's "the raven"

(ieiunusverse/rendezvous with the vampire meta + an imagine under the cut, long post, thanks for reading!)

i already lean pretty heavily on corvid metaphors for thanatos's story in general, you'll often see him described as a "damp raven" rather than a "wet cat" (though he is both) and his 50-year stint as avrae's "Harbinger of Destruction" (which was the least cringe out of the names I tried) during the culling war hammers that home, he develops a reputation as a dark-haired omen of evil to come to the point where even the sight of him will set a vampire who survived the culling war on edge. he carries himself with suave decorum and an easy smile, but he's aware that there's not very much he can do to make people feel comfortable around him at this point, the only thing he can do is pretend he doesn't notice how much everyone hates him

but as a iuventus he's expected to have some sort of performing arts skill, whether that be song or dance or theater or what have you, and i feel like theater is something he's been doing since he was a young man in ancient greece, one of the only places he felt he could be himself (though he often got shoved into female roles because of his face and figure and that didn't help with feeling that no one saw him as a man). he loves standing on a stage and delivering lines, he excels at soliloquy and capturing the attention of an audience (perhaps because his entire life is a performance)

i've been imagining a scene in which he's asked to perform at some house iuventae event, the house has rather strict guidelines about who's allowed to be given their contracts and maybe his sire is under investigation for making poor choices and all of their scions are asked to prove that they really have the spirit of the house

the poem is probably new at that point, it was published in 1845 and around then than's living in england and teaching philosophy at oxford, he probably gets the letter with the house seal, the lute and the pen surrounded by the ouroboros, on it in green wax and sits in his study to read it, looking around the room trying to figure out what he'd even do. his eyes fall on last week's copy of the new york evening mirror and he recalls what he read in it last week, new work from poe, an author he loves. he fishes the paper out of a stack of similar ones from both england and america, and goes over it a few times, internalizing it, finding what it means to him. it's functionally a soliloquy, and he's been playing the role of hamlet almost since it was created, it's almost as if the poem was made for him to perform. he resolves to memorize it.

the day comes. he's alone on the stage with his props: a chair, a velvet ottoman, a book, and a bust of Lord Iuventus, partially for the comedic effect and partially because it was easy to get. he sits in his chair, book hanging listlessly from his fingers. his eyes, unfocused, gaze into the audience, and he begins to speak.

his audience is enraptured. most of them haven't heard the poem before, they don't know how it ends, they hang on his every word. the man on the stage is no longer thanatos, but the tormented protagonist of the poem, red eyes blazing with fury as he rails against the grief within his heart, the cruel universe that separated him from his love, and the raven that represents them both. thanatos spent weeks learning to produce the bird out of Shadow. his magic gives it form in a way that fully convinces the onlooker that it is a foul prophet of evil deeds.

"and my soul / from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor / shall be lifted..." he pauses. his eyes turn to the audience, seeking the gaze of his sire. his gaze fixes on them. "nevermore."

the room is silent. the audience is holding their breath. he waits for several charged seconds, allowing the grief of the moment to mature. then, he gets to his feet, picks up his book and his bust, and leaves the stage.

no one questions his sire's choice again.

ieiunusverse taglist: @albatris, @milkshakes-lust-and-chiral-dust, @thethistlegirlwrites and @crash-bump-bring-the-whump for being the only person in the world who actually likes thanatos XD

[magnetarbeam]

Jacen Solo: What does Jagged Fel do when he's out of ammo?

Zekk: He uses the stick up his ass as a backup weapon. Come on, we've known that one since Ithor.

[zoeykallus]

Not the type to do request but I’m doing it anyways b/c, why not?

So, Y/n (or whatever you want to call her) and Crosshair (or any clone) slept together, sort of a fling as Y/n doesn’t think much of it thinking Crosshair just needed his system out of him. But when being flirted by some dude at 79’s only to he dragged off by the arm by him and dragged them to somewhere and is obviously jealous of this (I don’t mind me of feral mode) and let there be… SMUT…

Requesting people are a type? ^^'

Ooooh jealous Crosshair is a little scary, I think... So Y/N or whatever is a female, 'cause you didn't say otherwise :) I like the idea, got a scenario in my head already.

Crosshair x Fem!Reader Smut Oneshot – Under The Surface

Warnings: Smut/18+/Sexual Themes/Jealousy/Hurt/Angst/Dub-Con/Finger Kink/Soft Chocking/Dominant Crosshair

__________

After a hot fling with Crosshair, you find yourself regreting it was a one time thing. Crosshair on the other hand seems to be fine with that. However, when you are approached by another clone at 79's, he seems to have second thoughts.

__________

You had spent a night with Crosshair. It had been hot, wild and intense. Better than anything you had ever experienced sexually. But it was only a one-time thing. You knew that before. Still, you think of him often and whenever you see him in 79's, your heart beats faster. Especially when he gives you a cheeky wink. However, right after that your chest tightens and you feel like you can't breathe when he puts his arm around another girl and gives her all kinds of attention.

Today is another one of those days. You look away strained and clutch your cocktail glass with one hand as if you had to hold onto it to keep from falling off the barstool. You are annoyed at yourself, at the fact that you let him upset you so much. Again and again you feel attracted to guys who don't see more in you than a means to an end. One or even two nights of fun.

Crosshair seems to be no different. Actually, it wasn't bad, you think to yourself, it was consensual, it was great. An experience you don't want to miss. But this heavy feeling that you now carry around with you, you could do without that. Of course you don't let on anything, neither in front of him nor in front of your friends or his brothers.

You still greet each other when you run into each other. Now and then you flirt, but nothing more happens. Meanwhile you stay away from him as good as you can, more or less. You can really do without seeing him flirting with other girls who unabashedly throw themselves at him and how he enjoys the attention.

You sit there on the bar stool at the bar and tell yourself that you didn't put on your nicest short dress because Crosshair is into it, but because you feel sexy in it. Unfortunately, this is neither true nor a lie. Both are true. And you also feel his gaze on you again and again. His gaze is so intense that it seems like a touch, even though you just turned your back to him and you know that a pretty Twi'lek female is sitting in his left arm next to him at one of the tables with benches.

The thought of her nestled against his side makes you furious, but you still remain outwardly calm.

You almost flinch in fright as a voice to your right snaps you out of your gloomy thoughts.

"Alone tonight? Arent you usually with the guys of Clone Force 99?"

You look up at the clone standing next to you. An ARC Trooper, you don't know him by name, but you think you've seen him before. You didn't know the color of his unit, though. Midnight purple and black.

He has combed back hair, longer on the top, shaved on the sides and neck. Around his neck coiled a tattoo of an arrak snake.

"I work with them sometimes", you answer quietly, not sure what to expect.

"I'm Arrak", he says and holds out his hand to you.

You shake his hand and ask, "Like the snake on your tattoo?"

He smiles, a beautiful smile. Somehow there's something about this clone that you like right away.

"Yeah, right. Got the name when we were stationed on Ithor and we were camping in the woods. One of those snakes crawled around my neck in the night and almost strangled me"

"Oh, dear," you say, startled.

He laughs heartily, "Yeah sounds scary doesn't it? It was. But I killed it with my vibro knife. The skin is armored but they have a weak spot under the chin. I actually just found that out by accident."

A tingle travels down your spine. You know Crosshair is looking your way again.

"May I join you?"

"Be my guest"

Arrak is funny, smart, cute. He gives you sweet compliments, he seems honest, unobtrusive and yet he is obviously flirting with you. He likes you, you feel it immediately.

By now you feel as if the tingling sensation on your back has turned into a burning sensation.

Both of you are already a little buzzed, not really drunk, but in a good mood. Again and again he touches as if by chance, your arm, your hand, his knee touches yours. He leans close to you when he says something, partly to drown out the music, but you know it's more.

Your flirtation is more intense by now, and it's easily recognizable to the outside world. You don't care, why should you? Crosshair, did a lot of things you probably didn't want to know about since you ended up in bed together. After all, he's sitting there unabashedly with the Twi'lek girl in his arms.

But then something unexpected happens. Someone grabs your arm, not exactly very gently. You look up and see Crosshair's stony expression. What the hell is going on now?

"Hey, buddy, how about you keep your fingers to yourself?" Arrak grumbles.

He doesn't like how roughly Crosshair touches you, and he certainly doesn't like that he has the gall to do it while Arrak is flirting with you.

" Buddy," Crosshair growls, spitting his toothpick on the ground, "sorry to disappoint you, but this girl is already taken."

Arrak blinks, not sure what's going on. He looks at you and asks, "Is this guy bothering you? Do you want me to intervene?"

He can't place what's happening right now.

You shake your head, "No it's fine. I think I'll be fine."

Crosshair pulls you off the barstool and with him out of the main room of the bar, into the hallway that leads to the refreshers. You don't say a word, neither does he, until he breaks open a storage room and pushes you in front of him into the room. The space is cramped. One table, a few shelves crammed with cleaning supplies, spare light bulbs and the like.

"What the hell do you want from me? Make it quick I want to get back to the bar"

"To the reg?" he grumbles.

You shrug your shoulders.

"So what? What's it to you? Why don't you go back to your Twi'lek bitch?"

He sighs, pressing you against the table and pushing you down onto the tabletop, his thighs so quickly between yours that you can't really respond.

"I don't want her," he growls.

"Didn't look like it, though. The last few days you've had a lot of different girls hanging on your arm"

His face comes closer and as you back away with your torso, you feel one of the shelves in your back.

"Didn't end up in bed with any of them though".

You snort, "Sure"

"That's the truth"

"Led them around pretty proudly though".

His lips brush your cheek as he says, "I thought this might be a one time thing between us. By now, though, I think it can't be. You're not like the others"

"You're just jealous because you saw me with someone else, that's all it is" you say softly.

He growls softly, "That may be partly true, but it's not the only reason we're here now"

The fingers of his right hand graze your thigh, pushing your skirt up and moving between your legs. He knows how much you love his long finger. His fingers ghost over the fabric of your panties over your pussy. You bite your lower lip as he touches the small wet spot already spreading there.

You hear the smirk in his voice.

"You can't resist my fingers".

He exerts a little pressure, lets his fingers circle over your clit, presses another finger on the wet spot. You feel how everything in you is already tense in aroused anticipation. You don't want to contradict him, you don't want him to stop. But you don't know what to make of the whole thing.

His mouth sucks on your neck, right over your pulse, at the same moment his hand reaches into your panties. You let out a low whimper and your hips automatically thrust towards him. Crosshair emits a satisfied hum.

Your fingers claw at the armor plates on his shoulders, your nails scraping audibly across them. As two of his fingers find your wet opening and penetrate you, you cling to him with a groan. His thumb stays on your clit and massages while he fingers your pussy, his lips on your neck. You can't believe you're being finger fucked in a closet of the 79's. But you don't feel like refusing his attention at all.

His lips drive hard on yours, swallowing a moan that wants to escape you. He kisses you intensely, his tongue chasing yours. Your thighs begin to tremble and his fingers quicken. Your hands cling almost desperately to his armor. You tremble and twitch under his touch, your arousal dripping onto the table you are sitting on. The intensity peaks, your pussy tightens around his fingers and you gasp, the moan catching in your throat.

Crosshair withdraws his fingers from you, his lips leave yours and you watch him lick his fingers clean. Nimbly he has removed his codpiece, it lands on the floor with a soft thump. He pulls his blacks down a bit and he frees his hard length that plops out from behind the fabric. His hands grab your hips and pull your lap closer to the edge of the table. He immediately lines up his pre-cum leaking cock on your wet heat and penetrates you.

A small cry comes from your lips as he immediately enters you and begins thrusting into you. One hand lands on your neck. He squeezes very lightly, not really painful or dangerous but enough to make you feel his dominance. The other slides between your thighs and finds your swollen clit again.

You can't help it, your mind still swimming in the arousal of the last orgasm. You clench your legs around him, your abdomen tenses and you whimper and roll your eyes back as his fingers dance wildly over your clit again while his cock splits your pussy.

He gasps and growls, his teeth clenched. He's feral. The way he fucks you is rougher than last time almost furious. What you don't know is that he's angry at himself, at wanting you and no one else, at you flirting with that Arrak and at him caring.

As you wince and whimper, he immediately slows, his hand on your neck loosening. He leans his forehead against yours.

"Sorry. To rough?"

His voice is unusually soft.

"A little. It's okay."

He kisses your forehead, his rhythm slower than before but still intense. His breathing becomes heavier and you feel his thighs begin to tremble. The thought of him cumming inside you at any moment drives your arousal to the edge as well.

You whimper, "I'm close, very close."

A rumble comes deep from his chest. His thrusts become erratic, shaky. A half-whimpered moan comes from his lips, a very unfamiliar sound. You tip over the edge, your pussy twitching around his cuming cock, your orgasm rolling from the top of your head to your toes with an intensive tingle, eliciting a deep sigh.

Breathing heavily, Crosshair leans his forehead against yours again. Neither of you says a word. Wordlessly, Crosshair reaches for a pack of paper towels that is on one of the shelves, he cleans himself up and helps you get clean. When you get up from the table, your legs are all shaky. He holds you carefully so you don't fall over while you put your panties back on.

"Wait a minute, I'll see if the coast is clear."

You nod and watch him leave the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. You wait. A minute passes, a second minute passes. You get nervous. Did he just leave you standing there? Had you really fallen for him again? Five minutes pass. You feel stupid standing around in the closet waiting, especially since you think he's not coming back.

With shaky fingers you reach for the door, open it and look into the hallway, no one to be seen, not even Crosshair. You feel a burning behind your eyes, a lump in your throat, and you know you're going to cry at any moment. You feel deeply hurt. You are about to head for the back exit when you hear the door of the refresher open. Crosshair is coming down the hall towards you.

"Sorry," he grumbles, "peeing after sex is.... complicated."

He sees the look on your face and frowns.

"What's wrong with you? You look like you're about to cry"

You can't help it, you're so relieved you laugh out loud.

"Haha, very funny," he says dryly, "Come on. Let's take a cab together?"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@puppetswithteeth

[mdddante]

mmm. limbus company item asylum au.

b.xerroz as yi sang. pure vessel as sinclair. 10hbm as dante?? or maybe an asylumer as dante. actually. both at the same time. combat king as vergilius. shopkeeper as charon. ithor as heathcliff? one of the dummies as gregor maybe.

b.port as dongrang, b.jean as dongbaek. the radiance as kromer.

idfk, im spouting nonsense

[anchanted-one]

Spoilers for swtor 7.4 or whatever were on right now.

I love swtor. I really do. I liked the new zone and characters. Under different circumstances, I'd be happy with it.

But.... cmon, devs! It's been so many months since 7.0 dropped! And years since we first met Heta Kol, and saw that Malgus had a plan (tm).

I can't speak for most players. but me, personally: I need answers for a change, not vague hints promising something major and destructive is coming! As of this moment, it looks like Malgus just wants to burn the galaxy down to "start over" or something. And it's very cult-y. Very edgeboi. I can't believe they resurrected him just for this. And are keeping him alive.

And Heta Col... why do so many Mandos fanatically follow her? I've never been gung-ho about Mandalorians, I've always seen then as a civilization of professional raiders, bandits, thugs, pirates, and bullies. But the Hidden Chain seems to be following Heta for no other reason than to be allowed to return to pillaging. All they had to do was go their own way, Shae didn't seem like she had the power to force everyone to toe her line. But they're fighting the only Mandalore to win against the Eternal Empire.

What's worse... the time gap between updates. I realized yesterday, to my horror, that I can't remember what's going on. This kind of gap isn't conducive to a slow, patiently paced storyline. This isn't FF14.

I was hoping for answers, or at least, time with Lana and Theron.

Another problem, perhaps minor to some: we're returning to old worlds, instead of exploring new ones. Selonia, Mon Cala, Ithor, Rodia, Sullust, Vortex, Ryloth, Felucia, Bothawui, Kashyyyk, Trandosha, Gamorr, Bimmisaari, Tanaab, Chandrilla, Contruum, Carida, Csilla... as Lana says, "So much galaxy yet to explore, and here we are."

And a final, large complaint: "The Republic is corrupt and doesn't exist out here *at all*" is a trope that I'd like to see subverted, for a change. We need wins for the idea of Democracy. The Empire has always functioned as intended, with Chancellor Rans in command, I'd have hoped the Republic briefly did as well.

[oh-no-eu-didnt]

The Mid Rim was a galactic region that included the Naboo, Kashyyyk, Ithor, and Bothuwai systems. Located between the Expansion Region and the Outer Rim, the Mid Rim had a reputation for being home to hard working beings. During the time of the Republic, it represented the farthest reach of their legal authority.

Source: The Essential Atlas (Art: Modi; 2009)

First Appearance: Star Wars: The Roleplaying Game, Second Edition (1992)

Read more on Wookieepedia.

[catohphm]

@lanabenikosdoormat I've been running giving Ossie a different home planet in the Mid Rim other than Dressel. I've came across three alternatives for terrestial forested planets in the region, Ithor, Malastare, or Trandosha. Between those, I'm leaning towards Malastare or Trandosha.

[faeriescorpio]

doing that thing where i yell about star wars food again and-

Jewel-fruit from Ithor is described as having a hard shell

Jewel-fruit from Mon Calamari is described as being very sweet, and used to make alcohol, so probably juicy.

The fact that the Mon Calamari jewel-fruit is not described with a hard shell might mean it doesnt have as hard as a shell, and the Ithor jewel-fruit not being described as very sweet might mean its not as sweet as the mon calamari jewel-fruit. so why are they named the same name? Why do they come from two different planets?

My theory: Someone took jewel-fruit from Mon Calamari and tried to grow it on Ithor but even though Ithor is also a wetland planet it is not 90% water the way Mon Calamari is so it evolved to save water and became harder and less sweet.

do yall agree or disagree

[kalevalakryze]

March On

For Bo-Katan Week Day Two: wedding/marriage Pairing: Bo-Katan Kryze/Ahsoka Tano Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, Ahsoka Tano, Captain/Commander Rex (CC-7567) Warnings: mentions of loss & grief Summary:”Ahsoka, wait.. you can’t go out there like that,” Bo-Katan started, her hand resting heavily on a bare shoulder. The Togruta spun to face her, Bo had to look away at the mirrored reflection of loss and pain. She’d buried everyone she knew, and Bo understood, she also understood that allowing Ahsoka to throw herself at the Imperials with nothing to protect her would be dangerous. “Look, I don’t know how much it’ll help a Jetti,” The Mandalorian made quick work of peeling away the upper half of her armor, before unzipping her flight suit to reveal the heavy vest she wore beneath it all, dark blue with beskar alloy woven into the fibers. Ahsoka’s markings furrowed as she watched the redhead remove the under armor. “Bo-Katan…” The Togruta understood what the relinquishing of armor meant to someone, especially when the Kryze crest was emblazoned across where the human’s heart had been. “You don’t have to… you aren’t Mandalorian, it doesn’t have to mean anything-“ Notes: injury mention, mentions of loss, but it's soft and I love them , for Bo-Katan Week, Day 2, Marriage/Wedding. Word Count: 2,755

AO3 Link: here!

The minute they’d cleared away the suddenly hostile Republic forces, Bo-Katan Kryze had sent out search parties, a dozen kom’rk class fighters taking to hyperspace to try and find the Jetti and her men, with the hopes that whatever had happened to the blue and orange clones that had left behind, had avoided the clones transporting Maul. 

Bo-Katan hadn’t been able to shake the unease, or the soldiers who’d flocked to the planet under the banner of an ‘Empire.’ When her scouts reported the wreck of Ahsoka’s ship, and the mass grave that resided on the desolate moon, along with a single platinum saber, the weight of the loss settled in. Bo-Katan had come to terms that all she’d care for were doomed to be lost. So she focused her attentions to Mandalore, because, even she couldn’t lead a planet to ruin, right?

The Niteowls and all who allied with her often found themselves forced off planet to avoid imperial sympathizers. They had fled to Ithor to throw Imperials off their trail, while bringing the fight to the ancient planet as well, holing up in Tafanda Bay to keep their cover among thousands. It was in the city streets that they’d spotted an all too familiar set of montrals, where Bo-Katan had given chase, and observed the look alike phantom as she attacked clone troopers, never killing them, but instead taking them down and allowing a hooded accomplice to drag them further off. 

At some point to her chase, however, Bo-Katan had lost the mysterious Togruta. The Mandalorian had stepped aside to go over her information, and hopefully pull an attack patterns from what she’d learned, when an arm slammed into her chest and forced her against the wall. The beskar protected her from the worst of it, though there was an unnatural force to the way the woman’s copper arm pressed into her, keeping her immobile even with her larger frame.

“Ahsoka…?” Bo-Katan breathed as she stared down at the woman pinning her to the wall. There was no way it could have been anyone else, she’d never seen repeated markings on anyone in the entire species before, and Ahsoka’s eyes were just this… certain shade of blue that Bo-Katan had never been able to place.

“Bo-Katan, what are you-“

“Commander, what’s going on?” A clone’s voice spoke, Bo turned her head to the side to stare at the blue painted jaig eyes on a white trooper helmet. 

“Oro’nas, it’s okay Rex,” The arm against her chest sagged, and suddenly Bo-Katan was grabbing her elbows to help keep the Jetti up. 

“What happened to you guys?” Bo questioned as she slung Ahsoka’s arm over her shoulder, arm pulling around her waist to hold up her dropping weight. 

“Tell you about it in a minute, do you have somewhere safe we can go?” Ahsoka grumbled, fingertips grasping at Bo-Katan’s armor to keep herself standing. The smell of burnt flesh reached Bo’s nose behind her helmet, her head tilting down to follow the smell, finding the decent sized burn across the Jetti’s shoulder.

“I do, and a medkit, come on,”

“Rex, I need you to go back to the others, they’re going to need you when they wake up,” Ahsoka spoke to the Clone, who looked like he’d wanted to argue, his weight shifting between his feet as his head turned back and forth between the two women and further down the alley. “I’ll be safe, I need you to keep them safe, now,”

The captain’s shoulders dropped when he realized he’d lost, before he straightened himself and leveled Bo-Katan with a glare she could feel through both their visors. He didn’t need to speak for Bo to nod her head in their silent understanding, then, with a final look, he was disappearing into the darkness of the domed city. 

Ahsoka’s weight was increasing as the Togruta dropped into her arms to steady herself, paling fingers grasping at the hood of her singed robes to yank over her head. The tip of her right Montreal poked from a hole in the worn fabric, but other than that, it served its purpose in concealing the woman beneath her. 

Bo-Katan made quick strides in rushing Ahsoka back to the motel she’d scraped enough creds to get for a couple nights. The other Niteowls had all split up to keep their tails harder to find, so she didn’t have to worry about raising any alarm when she shoved into the room with the pain-drunk Jetti. 

“Ahsoka, hey, c’mon,” Bo called as she lowered the younger woman onto the edge of the bed. “I have to take off your robe to get to your shoulder, but I need you to tell me it’s okay,” And maybe, two years ago, if they’d been in this situation, Bo wouldn’t have even cared enough to get the Togruta to safety. But she’d grown since then, had grown in all her losses since The Clone Wars started, even. 

She’d wound up having to cut the fabric the rest of the way off the Togruta, where she quickly learned that being a fugitive Jedi was in no way easier than being an ‘empire hating traitorous Mandalorian’ The blaster burn wasn’t as bad as she’d expected, but the physical and emotional exhaustion was clearly catching up to her, Bo could almost guess with a certainty that Ahsoka had been moving nonstop since the Republic’s fall, something she could relate to a little too well these days.

Bacta and bandages were doled out across damaged skin, a burn here, a laceration there, an ugly dark bruise over there. Bo-Katan was careful with each application, projecting the care she knew her own injuries needed onto the younger woman on her bed. 

Ahsoka, who had been in a blissful state of limbo between wakefulness and slumber, blinked up at the Mandalorian as she worked, markings furrowed so tight together that Bo could almost feel her think. “What?” The redhead snapped instinctively, once she finished packing the medkit away and finally let her own eyes meet the startling blue of Ahsoka’s. 

“The Jedi are gone,” She answered, instead of offering a reasoning for her staring. “There were chips in the clones heads’ to control them… Palpatine is a Sith,” She turned over in the bed and curled herself into a tight ball. “We didn’t see any of it coming,”  

Bo-Katan paused, hand hovering just inches away from the young woman’s leg, her brows furrowing. What the kriff was she supposed to say to that? How could she say anything to offer comfort or sympathy in any genuine manner, when all she’d felt since everything went to shit had been numbness? “Rex and I. . . We’ve been trying to free as many as we can, but it’s not safe for any of them for me to be near them,” 

“You’re going to use me as a way to ditch them,” Bo stated, lips pressing into a thin line as the Togruta’s head nodded against the sheets. 

“It’s not safe for them-“

“But is it going to be safe for you? Where are your sabers? You don’t even have a blaster, or any kind of protection, do you even have a ship?” There was an incredulous high note to her voice, expressing how the entire plan sounded like bantha shit. “gar shuk meh kyrayc, you need to give yourself time,”

“I think you’re the last person who can say anything about taking time, Lady Kryze,” There was an edge to her tone that Ahsoka didn’t typically carry, not the Jetti she’d known. But then, she’d died, hadn’t she? Even if it was Ahsoka Tano’s body in front of her, the kid who she’d met on Carlac, or the woman who’d helped her lay siege to her home and drive out the Sith’s Shadow Collective, until the Clones had razed their work to the ground. Ahsoka had to become someone different, in a war where she stood with very few behind her, and no reinforcements against the entire Grand Army of the Republic’s resources. 

Ahsoka was getting up, Bo-Katan’s hand still hovering as she stared at the Togruta’s jerky movements, the way she straightened herself up and brushed away dirt. “I know the risks, and the consequences that come with it, I’ve accepted them a long time ago,” 

When she moved for the door, Bo-Katan stood, finally reaching out and grabbing her arm to keep her still. She knew the Jetti could throw her off if she’d wanted, but still the mandalorian took a breath. “Ahsoka, just wait, I can’t let you go like this,” The woman spun, fiery blue meeting the soft off-green of her own, and Bo forced her shoulders to relax, even if her fight instinct wanted to kick in at the sight of a practically cornered apex predator. 

Bo-Katan forced herself to look away, to stare at the hard line between the orange and white of her facial markings, the catch the way skin furrowed in simmering anger and resentment, feelings she knew the jetti preached against, but none of which she could blame her for. Not after she’d had to bury and watch everyone she loved die. 

“Look, I don’t know how much it’ll help a Jetti,” The Mandalorian made quick work of peeling away the upper half of her armor, tossing it onto the bedspread before unzipping her flight suit to reveal the heavy vest she wore beneath it all, dark blue with beskar alloy woven into the fibers. It wasn’t a common practice among most Mandalorians, to double up on their armor, in fact, the armored vest had only been produced by the New Mandalorians who gave up their armor, she’d found that piece in her ori’vod’s closet after her death, made to help her survive an assassination attempt (she didn’t want to think about Satine’s chance of survival if she’d been wearing it when Maul killed her, it hurt too much).

Ahsoka’s markings furrowed as she watched the redhead remove the under armor. “Bo-Katan…” The Togruta understood what the relinquishing of armor meant to someone, especially when the Kryze crest was emblazoned across where the human’s heart had been. 

“You don’t have to… you aren’t Mandalorian, it doesn’t have to mean anything-“ Because it technically was an exchange of armor, it meant more than the spare clothes she’d given her on Mandalore, because it meant she cared enough to ensure protection. 

Ahsoka reached out to take the armor, rubbing the stiff metal woven material between her fingers. “The clones taught me a lot about Mandalorians, everything they’d passed down between each other from their donor,” Her anger simmered into nothing, then, and Bo was able to relax for real. “I used to ask, when I saw pieces traded off between the battalions, or when Kote started to wear Master Kenobi’s robes…”

“Ahsoka, if you’re going to leave them behind,” Bo-Katan’s hand slid from her bicep to her free hand. “I want you to join my clan, if… if you want, so you aren’t alone,” She knew the Jetti and the Mandalorians’ had different views about death, but they’d all believed that no one was ever truly gone, and if Bo-Katan managed to die still considered a Mandalorian, she wanted her march to be with Ahsoka, even with the rift the world was forcing between her and those she loved. 

“You have a saying, don’t you ? When you offer this?” Ahsoka’s fingers interlocked with Bo-Katan’s, the redhead squeezing as she nodded, calm, for a woman who was practically standing topless into the Jedi equivalent of a kicked tooka.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde. We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.” Bo-Katan explained, weight shifting from foot to foot. “I know, that we’ll be apart often, I may never see you again,” Ahsoka’s head nodded solemnly at this. “But, we’d always be together, even if the entire galaxy is against us, keeping us apart, I’ll still be there,” 

When Ahsoka moved, Bo-Katan had half a mind to tense up or fight back, because really, when Ahsoka’s arms wrapped around her neck, the redhead had to come to terms with how long it’s been since someone hugged her. The body armor was pressed between them, Bo-Katan’s arms wrapped tight around her waist as Ahsoka’s fingers once more scrambled for purchase, this time, against bare skin instead of her armor. “The Jedi code forbids attachments,” Ahsoka pointed out in a whisper, bringing something akin to a cocky smirk to the human’s lips.

“Then it’s a good thing you aren’t a Jetti, if you accept, you’ll be Mandalorian by right.. though we don’t have a witness,” 

“The force can bear witness, no one’s ever truly gone,” Bo let herself believe, for just a moment, that maybe it was true, that maybe the feeling of being watched not as prey, but with care, could be Satine, or hell, even Pre, before he’d gone nuts. 

“Alright,” Her hands moved to take the armor and help slide it over Ahsoka’s shoulders, raising the fabric so it wouldn’t catch on the bandaging job she’d done on her shoulder, “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” Once again, Bo took Ahsoka’s hands in her own, thumb brushing against bruised knuckles as she spoke, finally forcing her eyes to lock with Ahsoka’s own. 

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” Ahsoka echoed, her hands squeezing Bo-Katans. Both of their faces lit up in a small smile, before the shorter woman was leaning up to capture Bo’s lips in a kiss that was more toothy smiles than anything. 

“I know you have to go, but would you consider staying? Just for the night, and I’ll get you what you need when you have to go,” 

Ahsoka seemed to ponder this, though the way she’d lowered herself back onto the bed beside Bo’s armor told her enough. “Alright, but I still have to give you something, it’s part of the exchange… I don’t have any armor, but do you think you could get a hold of some orange and white paint?” 

It had been easy enough to fulfill the request before midnight had struck the chronometers, and soon enough, Bo-Katan was helping pack gear into a bag while Ahsoka worked on her left pauldron on the other side of the room. “Should I be scared about what you’re doing?” She called over the noise of the Togruta sanding away paint echoed off the thin walls. 

“No, I mean, probably, I’ve only ever painted plastoid before, but.. it’s fine,” 

“gotal’ad, help us,” A white paint tipped brush was thrown at her, thumping harmlessly against the pillow she’d raised to deflect it. “That paint was already there when I rented the room,” Bo decided with a nod of her head, before she went to secure the bag,

“Anyways, I’m all done,” Ahsoka used the force to call the brush to her hand, before dropping it onto the little fold out table in the corner. When she presented the repainted pauldron, Bo-Katan blinked. 

Blue trim, orange background, and the white markings that were etched into Ahsoka’s face since birth. She knew it was important to her, enough so that the clones had bore the marks to express their admiration and love. She didn’t see it as a secondhand gesture, but the honor of being seen as worthy to wear it. It was the marking of clan Tano, truly. “I’ve always needed some more color,” Bo pointed out with a smile, offering her shoulder for the Togruta to fit the pauldron back on. “It looks good,” She confirmed, leaning to press her lips to Ahsoka’s forehead, a smile tugging at her own as she pulled back. 

The duo didn’t sleep the rest of the night, but when it was time for Ahsoka to go, they both felt more relaxed than they had since their time before the siege. Bo-Katan had led Ahsoka to the shipyard to watch her go in the small freighter she’d secured the night prior. As she’d watched the ship’s thrusters engage to take the newly minted Mando into the greater galaxy, Bo-Katan let her fingers touch the paint on her pauldron. There was no doubt in Bo-Katan's mind that this would be the last time they would see each other like this, at least... for some time. "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la"

Translations: Jetti - Jedi oro'nas - gloves off/stand down gar shuk meh kyrayc - you're no use dead ori'vod's - older sibling's Kote - 'Glory' used to refer to Grand Marshal Commander Cody, CC-2224 Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde - We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors. gotal’ad - maker/creator Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la - not gone, merely marching far away

[gahmah-raan]

2009 concept art of Post-Yuuzhan Vong Invasion Ithor. Acroplis Station is obviously based Citadel Station from Knights of the Old Republic II: The Sith Lords.