#seize-the-droid

[sebsxphia]

I apologize if I start spamming you with shit. Honestly you are the only person I feel can share Top Gun shit with 😂

But the dagger squad making those couple tie blankets with their SO! (This one is a single blanket but I’ve been some where they do two blankets for each of them) Like what a cute fucking thing. I can totally see Jake picking out a Longhorns fabric.

I’m curious what you think of this? In your opinion what patterns/fabric do you think the others would choose for their side of the blanket?

never apologise my love! you’re always welcome to discuss top gun with me! 🥰

oh and i love this idea so much! especially if it doubled up and you had your fabric one side, and theirs the other! okay so…

jake. longhorns, yes!

bradley. a hawaiian print.

bob. a print with little model aeroplanes.

mickey. a pop culture print, star trek/wars, zelda etc.

natasha. an illustrated cats print.

rueben. this is oddly specific, but i know him, a print of little teddy bears.

javy. a print with vintage cars and motorbikes.

let me know what you think my love! thank you so much for this totally sweet idea! 💌

[noratilney]

You keep making me blush with your tags on my Daemon posts 🥹

Aww, it's well-deserved!

[kendelias]

Did someone say Fantasy High???? You have D20 OCs???

i do!! they're currently unlisted bc. i dont often make them content on here NDFKFNFK BUT i have three ^.^

for now i just have fantasy high ocs (my best friends wendy, vex, and shep) BUT. i have concepts for other campaigns... and we'll see how cloudward ho goes but. dear god do i want to be involved in that world. i'll find a reason.

[redbean-nom]

map progress for the admirals au

[hanasnx]

i need ND-5 so bad... I want to ride his shiny face :^(

FACE RIDING — nd-5

“ but there’s something about us i’ve got to do / some kind of secret i will share with you ” 🪽

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ ✉️ | star wars. NOTES. had to anon. need nd so bad. WARNINGS. fem reader ノ established relationship ノ size difference ノ sexual content ノ smut ノ oral (f receiving) ノ fem orgasm ノ praise (f receiving) ノ droid sex but no p in v ノ cute dirty talk + endy talking you through it ノ fluff ノ voice kink (m + f receiving).

“I—ah!” you cry, your hand on your chest tightening to pinch your nipple between your knuckles. “N-D…” you sigh, your thighs relaxing as you sink into your seat—so to speak. ND-5 hums low and gravelly through his voice modulator, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “Sounds like you’re purring.” you tease with a grin, ending it with a coy bite to your bottom lip. The sheen of sweat shines on your skin, and your hair looks like you’ve just been through a couple rounds… ND thinks you resemble some kind of goddess. He can see you just over your mound while you scrub your little pussy raw on his face. He doesn’t mind the fluids in his filters, he’ll do a thorough deep clean and replacement session later.

Positioned delicately, you’re able to ride the tip of his nose, your slit rubbing back and forth on whatever purchase you can seize. The grate of his “mouth” provides a willing and foreign sensation, but far be it from the both of you to deny whatever your clit chases.

“You look…” Beautiful. The word is lost on him while he watches you carefully, your head tips back as you suck in a breath, swelling your chest into your hand. Even though he’s got a face full of pussy right now, it doesn’t mechanically stop him from being able to speak—just muffle him. However, the sight of you often crashes his train of thought. His hinges clutch onto the fat of your hips, the machinery in his arms creating a piston-like movement as he sets your pace for you. It’s harder this time, firmed up by his impatience to see more of you like this. Your back arches as he takes the control from you, a pitchy keen snapping out from the back of your throat like an elastic band—the kind of audible marvel that has him entranced. The symphonies a human voice is capable of like yours captivates him, lures him in and keeps him. Your nipple, puffy and pebbled, is rolled between your index and thumb. He studies the act curiously tilting his head and somehow that adds to your pleasure.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck, Endy, what’re you doing to me?” you cry, whipping your head forward to lock eyes with him. It’s hard to be surprised as a droid, but he can’t help but wonder exactly what makes this work for you? Cold metal is hardly the most accommodating place for such soft tissue like the pulsing muscle between your legs… and yet you look at him with such desire. You can’t stop yourself now, he can’t refuse you, and here you are humping his face until that little human surprise at the end. He’s waiting for that little spurt of secretion that happens after enough stimulation.

“I’m trying to make you cum. Is it working?” he replies to you in that classic ND-5 kind of way. It’s a brand of charm that works well on you.

There’s something endearing about his honesty, and it causes you to scoff in response, dazzling him with your pearly teeth in the low light—the hazy whites of his eyes being the only source of it in this pitch black room.

You nod to him, and from now on you hold his gaze. He juts his chin deliberately, a slow movement paired with his hands drawing you down and forward, dragging you into the kind of roll he wants your hips to follow. Instead, they brake and stutter, a powerful shudder crawling like electricity up your spine until your teeth chatter. “Ah, you’re close.” he drawls in a taunt, like this is a game. You have half a mind to hit him playfully, but you can’t reach anything when his head’s clamped between your thighs.

“Endy…!” you whine unconsolably, the heel of your free hand batting the headboard to help him understand your small bout of frustration.

“You can do it. Here, like this.” he directs as he’s still moving your hips for you, but now he can feel less of your resistance. You’re trying to compete. “Easy now.” His instructions—his voice, it’s all too much to handle.

“Don’t—ah! You’re gonna make me—“ It hurts a bit. It hurts to sit right at the edge and you feel like you’re overstimulating yourself for nothing, “Endy, please.”

“That’s it, that’s it. Just a little longer.”

Those pretty sounds he loves so much come spilling out of you in waves while you struggle to breathe. Your orgasm crashes down, body seizing up as you try your damndest to keep your eyes open for him instead of their instinct to squeeze shut. Even expressionless, you can tell he likes gazing into them at your peak.

@HANASNX 2025 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal

[kindly-whisper-norbury]

My Skeleton Crew predictions:

(Possible spoilers if any of these actually happen!)

Jod will have an opportunity to betray the kids, but will decide against it even though being loyal to them is no financial benefit to him. However, they will believe that he has betrayed them.

KB will have a medical emergency due to her cybernetics malfunctioning. Jod will save her, finally earning both KB and Fern's trust.

At some point, Jod will be lost and presumed dead. The kids will discover he is alive when he shows up to rescue them in a Big Damn Hero moment.

They find an actual old Jedi temple, which thrills Wim... and Jod will then have to explain what happened to all the Jedi.

Jod will acquire a lightsaber in the temple, though he will not be skilled at using it, and will get stabby with it instead of using any kind of proper technique. He will, however, use the lightsaber to kill a beast that is attacking the kids, which will delight Wim (who saw something similar in his storybook).

Fern, Wim, and Jod will all form a bit of a bond over the fact that they each lost a parent. Jod will not elaborate on how he lost one, though the kids will tell him about how their parents died.

We will not learn Jod's full backstory until the last episode, when it will be told in flashbacks.

As soon as they touch down on At Attin, Jod will be seized by the safety droids and locked up because he is an outsider. The kids will advocate for him, and their parents will support them in this (though not right away).

Because of Fara's actions, which went against admin rules, she and Fern will be put on house arrest. Wendle and the kids will hurry to get them out, then they will free Jod from prison.

Because the Supervisor doesn't believe Jod's warning about pirates coming, KB will send a message to Kh'ymm, who will get some x-wings to scramble to their aid.

At the end of the battle with the pirates, the x-wing pilots will threaten to haul "Crimson Jack" in for his crimes; but Fara will officially name him a resident of At Attin (since she is rather high ranking member of admin) and tell them that since he is a citizen of their planet he is not subject to New Republic laws. This will get the arrest wrapped up in red tape, and after the x-wings leave to get orders on the subject, Fara will tell Jod to leave before they get back, since she was just bluffing.

Fern will officially hand the captaincy of the ship over to Jod, who will smile when SM-33 calls him Captain.

Jod will give Wim the lightsaber he found, which Wendle stumbles over objecting to but ultimately allows him to keep.

At the end, it will be hinted at that Fara and Wendle kind of like each other in that way (making Fern and Wim have a bit of an "oh, heck no" exchange).

[chaos-chloe]

Handcuffs- PezzyxReader

CloolessxReader

Summary: I got handcuffs clip

TW: sexual innuendo, established relationship, platonic friendship, lmk if i missed anything

“Yeah we definitely should. He can't talk at all, he can still talk.” Puffer said, tying the cling wrap over Grizzy’s mouth, behind his head. “Can you still talk?” Droid asked Grizzy

“Yeah,” came Grizzy’s muffled reply, a cocktail of determination and humor spilling from behind the cling wrap.

“Damn,” Droid whispered, excitement dancing in his eyes. He suddenly seized more cling wrap from a nearby roll, eager to fortify their antics further.

“What? You’re trying to make me a permanent mute?” Grizzy teased, rolling his eyes as best as he could beneath the layers.“ I mean I'm just not going to talk”

“No we need to make sure you can't say a single fucking word ever again bro” Droid proclaimed, a gleam of mischief igniting his spirit. The room was filled with peals of laughter, their collective joy filling every corner as Grizzy shot Puffer a glance that said it all: “This guy.”

Pezzy, leaning against the counter, chimed in.“told you we should have bought the ball gaghe suggested nonchalantly. “I asked if you had one,”Droid snapped back, still engaged in his cling wrap project as if he were sculpting a masterpiece.

“I don't” Pezzy snipped at Droid, crossing his arms defiantly. “Damn it” Droid said jokingly, snapping his fingers in a mock display of frustration, which only elicited more laughter.

“Yeah right” Puffer sarcastically interjected with playful disbelief, his eyes darting conspiratorially towards Pezzy.

“That’s what I’m saying, I told you, don’t lie!” they bantered. The back-and-forth spiraled into glorious chaos, until Pezzy, fueled by the banter and laughter, threw up his hands in exaggerated exasperation. “I got handcuffs,” he blurted out, leaning against the counter with confidence.

instantly, a hush fell over the group as all eyes turned to Pezzy, their expressions frozen in surprise. Within moments, the silence shattered into raucous laughter once more, at which point Pezzy began to snicker too, reveling in his unexpected moment of fame.

But then, everyone’s attention shifted to the corner of the room. They’d almost forgotten about , the quiet, artistic soul who was holding the camera and capturing every lunacy of the night. had been silently observing while their cheeks grew crimson, illumination washing over them like a blush of ember, a glow in stark contrast to the chaotic humor surrounding them.

“Don’t worry,” Grizzy huffed, trying his best to speak with a cling-wrapped mouth, his eyes alight with mischief, “we’ll keep you safe from the handcuffs.”

“Yeah, we’re just having a little fun,” Droid added, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

[rarepairdumpster]

Rebel Spy Silco AU

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: GFFA Universe, Rebel Spy Silco, Sexual Slavery, Escaping, Trauma, Sequel Potential

AU where Slave Viktor is gifted to Imperial Senator Talis, and Viktor simmers with anger and humiliation as Talis inspects him like livestock.

"A shame about the leg," Talis comments, "but he is beautiful. A delicate flower."

Talis moves to cup his jaw and Viktor tries to bite him.

He glances at the one who gifted Viktor as his personal guards seize Viktor and force him to his knees.

"But it seems he still needs breaking."

Silco is undercover as one of the senator's guards. He's lucky the bounty puck has an old picture where he still had his long hair and half of his face.

And if there's one thing Silco hates more than the Empire, its slavery.

Silco's orders were to stay in position for a few more weeks, so he tries to ignore what happens to Viktor during his first "breaking" session.

He doesn't participate, but stands by the door, still forced to watch as Viktor is beaten and humiliated and taken advantage of. By the end he feels on fire with all the frustration and anger that has built inside of him.

He has to get Viktor out now

Silco tells himself that he has enough dirt for the rebellion to show the senate, to add to the rest that the rebellion has been gathering.

Discussions about troop movements, massacres, etc

Silco waiting until Talis is deep asleep, before moving forward on silent feet. He raises a gloved finger to his lips when Viktor, still awake and weeping silently, looks at him with those big, stupidly beautiful amber eyes.

Viktor is half-terrified, half-hopeful, when the guard scoops him into his arms with care. He bites back a pained whine as his deepening bruises press against hard armour.

When they get out of the condo, Silco takes off his cape and wraps it around Viktor, who is shivering in the cold wind of the upper levels.

"I can get us somewhere safe, but you must trust me," Silco says, pulling the cape tight.

Viktor nods. He hasn't much choice and anything was better than where they came from.

Viktor would speak, but his throat is raw from the blunt force of the Senator's dick

Silco's handler is there soon after he's activated his beacon and he shuffles Viktor into the transport.

"Who the kriff is this?" Sevika yells from the driver's seat

"Just get us to the safehouse and I'll explain," Silco replies, getting in back with Viktor and holding him close.

Viktor is in too much pain to sleep, but he let's himself rest against Silco. The cape wrapped around him cushions the armour a little

Sevika takes a few roundabout and long ways to the safehouse, to make sure no one is following them.

The safehouse is a few levels below the Escru and tucked away, fronted by a salvage shop. The ithorian owner shows them the hidden entrance as soon as he sees Sevika barrel in. Once they're in the back, the owner closes the door and the lights flicker on.

It's the size of a small apartment, with a greasy kitchenette and a separate refresher off to the side. Silco guides Viktor over to the threadbare couch and sets him down while Sevika calls someone on the com.

"I'm going to have a medical droid come in to have a look at you, alright?" Silco says, starting to take off the armor he swore to burn later.

He feels a sense of relief when his rescuer removes all the armour, the livery, revealing the hands of a common working man.

Hands like his parents' hands.

Good peoples' hands

There's a knock at the door and Silco checks it, quickly shuffling the medical droid in. He tells it to take care of Viktor carefully or so help me, then walks over to Sevika.

"So? What's with the stray?" Sevika asks, lighting up two cigarras and passing one to Silco.

"Viktor," Silco names the boy before taking a drag. "He was brought to be a slave. Talis spent the evening breaking him in."

Silco blows out the rest of his smoke. "You know I couldn't just let that happen. After…"

He trails off, knowing that Sevika already knows enough of his history to understand.

"Shit." Sevika looks sideways towards the building . "You heard all that?"

"Saw it." Silco feels the rage surge all over again. The sound of Viktor's curses and pleas are etched in his brain. "Talis is a brute. Bludgeons like a hammer."

The thought that Viktor had been ravaged, just like his homeworld, makes Viktor weep silent tears while the med droid is checking him over

Silco gives a basic overview of the info he's gotten, then comes back in the small room to check on Viktor.

He rushes over when he sees Viktor's tears, shoving away the medical droid.

"Did it hurt you?"

"No," Viktor manages to rasp, throat sore. "She has been gentle. I'm just….a great distance from a home that no longer exists."

Silco lets out a breath and sits next to Viktor.

"Where are you from?" Silco asks softly as Viktor wipes his eyes with the cloak.

"I believe in basic it is, ah…" Viktor sighs and squeezes his eyes closed. "Argovia?"

"Ah." Silco bows his head. He'd heard of Argovia. One of countless worlds ravaged in the name of the Empire. Flimsy excuses used to invade, just so they could rob the planet of its resources. Entire cities destroyed. Local habitats devastated. "I'm sorry."

Viktor could feel the painkiller that the droid had given him start to kick in and he relaxed against the back of the couch.

"And who are you?" Viktor asks, raising an eyebrow. "You clearly aren't really a guard."

"Silco. And I'm many things," Silco answers, corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. "Guard is just one of my skill sets."

"Well, I wouldn't say you're a very good one. You ran away from your post and stole me in the process," Viktor chuckles lightly, his head swirling from the medication.

"I don't expect my master will be very happy about that"

"I guard something much more important than that bastard." Silco's voice is low, hot and angry, but his eyes are gentle. "An ideal that other men before me have given their lives for."

"That does sound important," Viktor hums, tightening the cloak around him. It's only now that his pain has subsided that he finally feels how tired he is. He leans his head back and rolls his neck to face Silco.

"Is it safe to sleep?"

"It is. I guarantee it. Let me get you something a little warmer."

Silco gets up and opens a closet packed with supplies and pulls out a cheap blanket, then grabs a spare tunic and cloth pants.

He walks over to Viktor with the items and Viktor smiles lazily at Silco. "I realize I haven't thanked you yet."

"Don't thank me too quickly," Silco warns. "We have to leave at nightfall and it won't be easy getting to the next location."

Viktor blinks, slow and heavy.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere safer than this."

Viktor lays down on the couch, using the clothes as a pillow. He's far too tired to change now, and he was warm enough with the blanket Silco provided.

As he starts to drift off, he watches Silco walk across the room, picking up a datapad from the small table and sitting in the simple chair next to it.

Viktor had heard of people like this. People that were trying to fight the Empire from the inside. He thought they were just stories until now.

Silco glances over at Viktor now and then. To make sure he's sleeping alright. The man looks so….young in this state. So vulnerable. The bruises only add to it

Sevika ribs him about not expecting Silco to be the kind of guy to risk things for a pretty face.

Silco ignores her. The prettiness is irrelevant...mostly.

Arch + Woods

[cosmic-castor-canadensis]

Monday – “I’m not touching that”

“I’m not touching that,” Cal repeated.

“If you don’t assist, you won’t be paid this shift,” the foreman droid stated.

They were hauling crates. Cal had been fine, until, with just an hour left, he’d become uncooperative. Prauf didn’t know what was wrong, but they couldn’t afford to lose this money. Cal turned to him, and Prauf shrugged helplessly. Cal reluctantly understood, but when his hands touched the crate, he seized up. Prauf sprang to catch him.

“Note this for Worker SP-0,” Prauf demanded angrily. “When he says he shouldn’t do something, don’t make him!”

“That is not our policy.”

[sebsxphia]

Okay, but picture this: avid reader Bob who always has a book on him. He enjoys reading everything: Romances? Loves them. Murder Mystery? 10 bucks he figures out who it is 3 chapters in. Science Fiction? His favorite.

He has always preferred physical copies of books. He has he own personal bookshelf of his favorites and a frequent library goer. Never got into the kindle trend because it can never beat the real deal…

BUT!

The moment he finds out his wife is pregnant with their first child? He’s immediately on Amazon buying a Kindle. Why you ask? One handed reading. But why would Bob want to read one handed? Because you bet your ass that man has a hand on her stomach whenever he can. Reading at the beach: hand on stomach. Reading before bed: hand on stomach. Reading for personal pleasure on the couch: hand on stomach.

The moment his wife realizes this (probably a few months in when she starts to show) she fucking bawls. This man is so excited to be a father while also wanting physical contact with his girl.

My heart just explodes at the thought.

OH MY GOD! MY LOVE THIS IS THE MOST REAL THOUGHT FOR BOB EVER AND IM FALLING TO MY KNEES IN LOVE 🥺😭

no because this is actually so correct! and part of the reason he doesn’t explain to his wife why he’s now got a kindle, is because, why should he? he loves his wife and having that touch with your little one, it was second nature to bob to buy a kindle so he could read like that. he had it planned the moment he settled down with a book for the first time since knowing you were pregnant.

oh god, i love this so much and i love you so much and i love bob so much! thank you so much for this incredibly sweet thought my love! 🥹💌💗

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Arc Trooper Fives x Bounty Hunter Reader pt.2

Some battles hit close to home—others hit the home itself.

Kamino—the birthplace of the Grand Army—was once considered untouchable. But the Separatists didn't care about sentiment or sacred ground. They wanted to strike at the heart, where the Republic bled.

A scrambled transmission had come through less than forty-eight hours ago: Kamino was next.

The birthplace of the clones. The very artery of the Republic war machine. If Kamino fell, so did everything they fought for.

Every hand was called back to defend it—including Echo and Fives.

"Feels weird being back," Echo said, eyes flicking up toward the grey Kaminoan ceiling.

"Yeah," Fives replied. "It's like coming back to visit an ex who once shot you in the face for blinking too loud."

"...You sure we're talking about Kamino and not her?"

Fives smirked, but didn't answer.

Fives was the first to notice her.

He'd just made some smartass comment to Echo about how all the regs still walked like they had sticks up their shebs when something made him stop mid-step.

A voice. That voice.

Playful. Sharp-edged. Familiar.

He turned—and there she was.

Sitting on a bunk with a cadet. Helmet off, body relaxed, back propped against the wall like she owned the place. Her fingers flicked lazily at a datapad while the cadet beside her looked one cough away from combusting.

Her laugh rang out, low and smug. "You zap a training droid like that again and the I'm gonna use your head for target practice."

The cadet groaned. "You said it was fine!"

"I said try it, not fry it. There's a difference, sunshine."

Echo stopped beside Fives, following his line of sight. His expression flattened.

"She hasn't changed."

"She got hotter," Fives said, then winced as Echo elbowed him. "Kidding. Kidding."

They watched a moment longer. She hadn't noticed them yet, too busy teasing the poor kid who looked like he might pass out from either embarrassment or adoration.

Fives smirked. "Place just got a hell of a lot more interesting."

Fives and Echo didn't move. Just watched. Like spectators waiting for a grenade to go off.

Another cadet on the adjacent bunk stood up, then jumped onto the mattress, trying to show off—springing up and down with dramatic, exaggerated bounces. The bedframe groaned beneath his boots, plastoid rattling.

"Cadet!" she snapped, not even looking up from her datapad. "Quit jumping on the bed!"

The cadet didn't listen.

Of course he didn't.

He landed with a loud creak, then flung his arms out theatrically. "C'mon, you're not as scary as everyone says you are."

Fives winced.

Echo muttered under his breath. "Dead man walking."

Still leaning back against the wall, she finally lifted her eyes to the bouncing cadet. Calm. Lazy. Almost bored.

"You sure about that?" she asked.

The kid gave a half-laugh. "What're you gonna do? Glare me into submission?"

Without breaking eye contact, she reached into her belt, pulled her blaster, flicked it to stun—and fired. One clean shot.

The cadet seized midair like he hit an invisible wall. Then he collapsed, limp and unconscious, mid-jump.

Chaos erupted. The other cadets scrambled to catch him before he crashed to the floor. They caught him by the chestplate, barely avoiding a loud thud. His head lolled, tongue out, stunned to the void and back.

She holstered her blaster like it was just another Tuesday.

"That'll teach you to bounce around when I'm trying to teach someone how not to get shot."

From across the room, Fives cupped both hands around his mouth. "You stunning cadets again?" he shouted. "That's bringing back some real traumatic memories, sweetheart!"

Her head whipped around.

The casual posture straightened. That lazy look sharpened into something a little more dangerous, a little more feral.

Then she smirked. "Fives."

"Missed me?"

She jumped down and stepped over the still-unconscious cadet like he was nothing more than an inconvenient floor lamp. The others made space quick—none of them made eye contact.

Fives and Echo were already waiting for her near the bunks. Fives leaned against the wall, arms folded, helmet clipped to his belt. Smirking like he hadn't aged a day. Like seeing her again didn't just punch the air out of his lungs.

She stopped in front of them, one brow arched.

"Didn't expect to see you two," she said, voice smooth but edged. "Last I heard, you were off doing very classified things in very important places."

Fives gave a mock shrug. "Separatists don't care much for my schedule. Thought I'd swing by, relive some trauma, and see if you were still casually beating up cadets for fun in your free time."

She smiled—too sharp to be sweet.

"They bounce on my bed, they get stunned. Rules haven't changed."

Fives tilted his head, grin widening. "I missed your charming hospitality."

She stepped a little closer, just inside his space. "You missed a lot of things."

"Oh?" His eyes flicked over her, slow, searching. "Anything worth catching up on?"

She looked him up and down, then tapped his chestplate lightly with two fingers. "You still talk too much."

He caught her hand before she could drop it. Held it there for half a second longer than necessary.

"And you still shoot first."

She leaned in, just a little. "That's why I'm still alive."

Echo cleared his throat behind them—pointedly.

They both turned.

"What?" she said.

Echo just gave a dry look. "Should I leave you two to flirt or are we going to address the fact that the outer perimeter is about to be hit in less than 24 hours?"

She blinked, then sighed. "Right. That."

Fives leaned a little closer to her ear, voice lower now. "Raincheck on the verbal sparring?"

She smirked. "You'd better survive the next 24 hours, then."

He winked. "For you? I'll try."

__ __ __ __

The war room was tense. Holograms flickered with incoming scans of Separatist movement, ships breaching the upper atmosphere, debris fields thickening around Kamino like a noose. The reader stood beside General Skywalker, arms folded, gaze narrowed.

"You'll be assisting General Skywalker during the space assault," Master Shaak Ti said, her calm voice cutting through the static hum of the tactical map. "The Separatists are attempting a full-scale assault."

"Finally," the reader muttered, strapping her gloves tighter.

Skywalker cracked a grin. "You just want an excuse to blow something up."

She smirked. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Skywalker glanced at the reader, a crooked smile playing at the edge of his mouth. "You good with a starfighter, or am I going to have to babysit?"

She smirked. "I'll race you up there"

They launched fast—fighter squadrons tearing up through the storm clouds. Kamino's airspace was a firestorm of blaster bolts and explosions, enemy ships descending in coordinated waves. She and Skywalker split off, weaving through Vultures and skimming the wreckage fields that circled the planet.

"That's a lot of debris..." she muttered, eyes narrowing. "Not bad," she murmured, spinning her fighter between the smoking hulls of fallen debris. "We might actually win this one."

"You sound disappointed," Anakin said over comms, grinning through the channel.

Kenobi's voice cut through the comms, sharp and strained: "They're using the debris."

The channel went silent for a second.

"What?" She asked.

"They're using the debris fields to disguise troop transports," Kenobi repeated, irritation rising.

"He's just being dramatic," she muttered.

"Probably jealous we've been mopping them up faster than he has." Anakin added.

But then another "chunk" of floating debris broke open right in front of her, revealing a fully operational droid deployment pod. Her sensors screamed. The pod fired its boosters and shot down toward the city.

"Okay, that's new."

"Kenobi's right," Anakin growled. "They're already inside the city."

The reader gritted her teeth, flipped her ship into a steep dive, and kicked the throttle.

"Tipoca's about to get very crowded."

__ _ _ __

The city shook as another pod hit the platform. Rain pelted the metal walkways as she leapt out of her fighter and sprinted through the Kaminoan halls, Anakin just ahead. Sirens wailed. Clones and droids clashed at every turn. She ducked under blasterfire, slid around a corner—only to skid to a halt.

General Grievous stood just down the corridor, his cloak billowing, metal feet clanking on the floor. He turned his head toward her with that bone-white grin and a low, guttural laugh.

"Well, well..." he rasped, stepping into the light. "Who do we have here?"

Her blaster was up before he finished the sentence. The first few shots sparked off his plating, and then his sabers ignited—four in a blur of green and blue light. He charged.

She dove sideways, rolling under his sweeping strikes. One saber missed her by inches, slashing the wall and sending sparks flying. She came up low and kicked at his leg, only to get thrown back into a wall by one of his secondary arms.

Pain cracked through her ribs. She coughed and spat blood—but she was grinning.

She waited for the swing—and then moved. A twist, a duck, a slam of her vambrace against his wrist. Sparks flew, and one of his sabers dropped. She kicked it away before flipping up, landing a punch straight into his chest plate.

Another saber fell. His remaining blades whirled around her, but she was too fast, too close. Grievous lunged, but she met him head-on. Her forearm armor hissed—and from the sides of her gauntlets, twin knives slid out with a sharp metallic snap.

Her next punch drove the blade into one of his arms. His screech was guttural, inhuman. She ducked under a swing, came up behind him, and drove both blades into his back, carving a sharp X before twisting away again.

"Do you bleed, General," she breathed.

"You will," he spat.

—and then a blaster bolt cracked through the air, slamming into the floor between them.

Kenobi launched himself into the corridor, saber blazing.

"Get out of here!" he shouted.

She hesitated, still breathing hard, soaked in rain and blood and satisfaction.

Grievous roared and charged Kenobi. Their blades collided in a thunderous crash of energy. She turned and ran—dodging blasterfire, sliding through smoke-filled hallways.

She rounded another corner and practically crashed into Echo and Fives, weapons drawn, flanked by Cody and Rex.

"Hey!" Fives barked. "You alive?"

"Barely," she panted, smirking. "You miss me?"

"Always," Fives grinned, even as he loaded another power pack. "You bringing all the drama or just some of it?"

She rolled her shoulder, blood dripping from a cut at her temple.

"Grievous is back there. Kenobi's dancing with him."

Rex cursed under his breath. Cody looked grim.

_ _ _ _

Blaster bolts flew past in every direction, lighting the darkened barracks in flashes of red and blue. Cadets, barely out of training, were taking cover behind flipped bunks, returning fire with borrowed rifles. They were tired, scorched, but holding.

Fives and Echo moved through the smoke-filled corridor, flanking Captain Rex and Commander Cody. The reader was with them, blaster still hot from earlier skirmishes, armor scorched and dented. She was limping slightly, but there was a grin on her face.

"Clear that hall!" Rex ordered.

Blaster bolts seared the air as B1s and B2s advanced through the shattered entry.

One cadet ducked to reload, glanced over at the reader.

"General Grievous. You just fought him, didn't you?"

She exhaled, still crouched. "Yeah."

"You didn't even have a saber."

"Didn't need one."

"You survived?"

She cocked her head mid-firefight, casually. "There's a reason they had me training commandos."

A B2 burst into the doorway—she spun and hit it point blank with a bolt that sent it sparking back through the frame.

Echo ducked behind cover beside her. "How'd it go?"

"Hand-to-hand," she said between shots.

Fives peeked out from behind a flipped bunk. "You punched Grievous?"

"With knives."

"Where the hell did the knives come from?" Echo asked.

"Forearm compartment," she said casually. "He didn't seem to like it."

"You're insane," Fives muttered, watching her with a crooked smile. "Kind of hot, not gonna lie."

"Don't flirt in front of the cadets," she replied dryly, but her tone was lighter now.

"Probably didn't even break a sweat."Fives said, shooting her a lopsided grin.

She flashed a crooked smile back at him. "Wouldn't want to make the general feel bad."

"He still breathing?" one of the cadets asked, checking his ammo.

"For now," she said. "Kenobi stepped in before I could finish it."

"Of course he did," Cody muttered.

Another wave of droids pushed through—cadets and troopers moved as one.

"Let 'em come!" Fives shouted. "This is what we trained for!"

"You're training them now?" she teased, ducking beside him to fire.

"Only the ones that survive."

"Then you better hope I don't shoot you first."

Echo groaned behind them. "Are we seriously doing this now?"

They all ducked as an explosion shook the barracks, smoke flooding through the corridor. Screams, fire, more blaster fire. Cadets held tight, not a single one backing down.

Through the chaos, 99 appeared, hauling ammo crates toward the front lines, barely flinching as a bolt slammed into the wall beside him.

"Here!" 99 called, setting another crate down with a grunt. "Take these—don't let up!"

The reader ducked behind the cover of a half-melted support beam, reloading as she shouted, "You've done enough, 99! Get to safety!"

But he didn't stop. He never did.

Fives broke cover to grab more ammo, dragging the crate back toward the cadets. "We're low! Keep moving!"

"99!" Echo called, "Fall back!"

A B2 unit turned the corner—heavy cannon glowing.

It fired.

The shot slammed into the wall behind 99. He staggered, then dropped to one knee. Another blast hit nearby, sending shrapnel into his chest.

"No!" Fives shouted, blasting the B2 down. Echo and the reader rushed to 99's side.

She dropped to her knees beside him, grabbing his shoulder gently. His breathing was shallow.

"You're gonna be alright, 99," Echo said, voice tight.

Fives crouched beside them, eyes locked on the old clone's face. "You did good. You did real good, soldier."

99 gave a weak smile. "I... I was trying to help..."

"You did help," the reader said softly. "You saved lives today."

"W-was... I a good soldier?" 99 rasped, blinking slowly.

"The best," Fives whispered. "You were one of us."

His hand fell limp. The light in his eyes faded.

The hallway quieted. Even the cadets paused—every one of them frozen in respect.

No one spoke. The only sound was the fading echo of distant blaster fire.

Rex approached slowly, helmet in hand, eyes lowered. "He didn't have to go out like this."

"But he chose to," Cody said. "He chose to stand."

The reader stood, jaw tight, fists clenched. "Let's make sure his death means something."

Fives looked up at her. "We will."

Then the comm crackled. Anakin's voice filtered through. "Commanders—we need reinforcements near the south platform. We're being overrun."

Cody clicked on his receiver. "Copy that. Moving now."

The group turned to move out. But for one moment longer, they looked back at 99—at the clone who had no number, no war name, but all the heart in the world.

Then they left the hall, blasters drawn, ready to fight in his honor.

_ _ _ _

The ceremony was simple, but it held so much weight. The clones stood in formation, their pristine armor gleaming under the lights of the command center. The air was charged with pride and anticipation as the two cadets who had proven themselves time and time again were about to be promoted to ARC Troopers.

Fives and Echo stood at attention, looking sharp as ever, despite the weight of their past battles. The reader stood off to the side, arms crossed and her eyes scanning the room, though she was focused mostly on Fives. Her lips twitched into a smile as she watched him stand there—so confident now, but she knew the struggle it had taken for him to get here.

Rex stood before them, his voice strong as he spoke to the gathered men.

"Today, we promote two of the finest soldiers I've ever had the honor to serve with. Echo and Fives, you've proven yourselves time and time again. You've earned this. And from now on, you will lead with us, shoulder to shoulder."

He paused, nodding at each of them. "Congratulations, gentlemen. You are both now ARC Troopers"

Fives and Echo exchanged glances, a look of both disbelief and excitement crossing their faces. Then, they stood tall as Rex handed them the ARC Trooper insignias.

The two men saluted, their chests swelling with pride. The rest of the clones clapped, the sound echoing in the hall.

The reader stepped forward, a smirk curling on her lips. She reached out to give Fives a solid clap on the shoulder, her voice low enough only for him to hear.

"Nice work, Fives. You didn't screw it up after all," she teased.

He shot her a grin, leaning in closer. "I told you I'd make it, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but I didn't expect you to make it with your head still attached to your shoulders," she shot back, her smile playful. "Guess that's worth a reward."

The rest of the clones dispersed, leaving Fives and the reader standing near the edge of the room. Echo had already disappeared into the crowd, no doubt celebrating with the others. But Fives stayed close to the reader, a glimmer of something deeper in his eyes.

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," Fives replied

"You're getting dangerously confident now, huh?"

"Maybe," Fives said with a grin.

The reader leaned in, and with a playful gleam in her eyes, she brushed a hand against his cheek, before kissing him quickly on the lips. It was brief, but the lingering heat between them made it clear they both felt the weight of that moment.

Pulling away just slightly, the reader met his eyes, her voice soft and teasing. "Don't let it go to your head. I might just have to knock you down a peg again."

Fives's grin widened, though there was a spark of something serious in his expression now. "I'll be careful. I'll be back before you know it."

"Better be," she replied, her tone playful, but her eyes holding a trace of something more sincere.

Fives nodded, stepping back with his usual swagger. "I'll hold you to that."

He turned to leave, but before he did, he glanced over his shoulder, giving her one last look. The reader watched him disappear into the crowd, a part of her wishing she could hold onto that moment a little longer, but knowing that it was only the beginning of something bigger.

_ _ _ _

Part 1

[moriaarts]

ARC Trooper Corporal Jaig

Blorbo the second, Jaig the ARC of the 343rd. In house mother and bleeding heart in disguise. With the text under the cut.

CT - 8407 “Jaig” has proven herself to be a survivor. Calm, collected and aloof, Jaig comes across as a cold and unapproachable soldier. But its a mask of a hunter observing the world for signs of danger.

The name “Jaig” was given to her early in the war when a B1 droid got in close and disarmed her. It’s not in Jaig nature to go down without a fight. It’s not in her nature to go down at all. All clones are trained in hand to hand combat, made stronger and more agile than base humans. But these are necessary against unyielding mechanical fists. Knocked off her feet by a metal backhand, she remember the raw of the wind across the sands, of the LAAT’s, of blaster fire.

She registers the B1s flooding in and going for her batchmates, her squadron, helmet forgotten she goes for the nearest one and shreds out the wires in its neck. It’s a valiant effort. It’s luck. The droid reaches back, grabbing her by the face to pull her off. It’s joints seize and all thats left as it turns on her is the command prompt to shoot and keep shooting. The fucker took her eye. Tore the skin off around it.

The scar that it left was triangular shaded, the skin too smooth for the rest of her face. A jaig eye, Jai’galaar’la sur’haii’se, a shreik-hawk eye, they said. Said her quick thinking took out a platoon of clankers when the droid she hardwired mindlessly shot a downed LAAT, blowing it, sending it crashing on top of the ones storming their trench. She just remembers being pissed because they knocked her bucket off and didn't finish the job. So she gets to trained as an ARC. It’s an honour. And she agrees but it doesn't feel real. Even assigned to the 21st Nova Corps, under the command of Commander Jet, Clone Marshal Commander Bacara, and General Ki Adi Mundi.

She never really like red. Liked the long kama though. She also had not like General Mundi. The rumour was that he had ten wives. The number changed depending on the battalion they were bunking with. It was more like four. But knowing the jedi’s no string policy she's even less of a fan. Even less in the coming months before. Jaig would be with the nova corps for few campaigns. Used to smile when Block chased her around with hair shears. How Duke would always grumbled getting dirt off his armour, and asked how she kept hers so clean and not smelling of wet bantha. But besides that she hadn't known much about herself until they had met them. Two of General Mundi’s wives met them at a medical station one a doctor the other visiting from a relief mission. Pamania. She was lovely. Covered in simple jedi cream robes all except for her eyes. Eyes of deep pools of dark purple, nebulas set in russet skin. They creased when she smiled. Lashes fluttered when she cried. They visited the medical base often. Pamania was gentle with them. Patient and kind, and fierce as a forests fire when they came back in a state. Jaig thinks she liked her. The first one to call her sister. The first to run fingers through her hair rather than playfully pull it when she gave her some self sacrificing crap. The first person to kiss her on the cheek and tell her she had a right to live in this world. War or no war.

Jaig had been younger then, Naive and unsure what to do with such gentle treatment. Who knew an innocent kiss to a clothed cheek would do such damage? Jet had scolded her and within a week she was decommissioned for improper behaviour, officially. Unofficially reassigned in shiny armour to the 343rd.  

Bonus:

Jaig loves the twins like her own. Especially Lash, whose quiet sarcasm is a family brand of deflection. She wants more with Ro, but Ro has a whole host of issues to make up with before Jaig is next in line. Doesn’t stop her having the ARF troopers back though. They both got on best, both being recon troops and with her 3rd in command and Ro in 2nd, they often share looks of exasperation and concern at the expense of Kiss.  

Here is Captain Kiss x and the rest of the company.

WIP Playlist

[wantonlywindswept]

10/10 fox day: forgotten fox bit

to celebrate fox day you get more of the next section of the forgotten fox au, which contains...zero fox actually present x_X

i am trying okay

---

Bucket, for the crimes of having an excellent sabacc face and a hip that seized up when moving any faster than a light jog, was often stuck manning the Guard HQ front desk.

They didn't get too many natborns coming through these days, at least, now that the CSF were forced to do their own jobs and had taken over guarding the prison. The Guard was back to being a protective, high-level military force instead of doing all the domestic policing and drudgework they'd been relegated to. They were still beholden to the Senate, but things had gotten better since Palpatine died and Organa took office, even if some of the Dome's denizens still saw them as little better than droids.

So Bucket didn't have to deal with that at least--he could, he got his name from being able to fit his demeanor to whatever the situation needed it, swapping faces like you could swap a helmet--but he did still have to deal with the regular comers and goers. Thankfully, that was mostly clones, plus the new addition of the pack of Jedi healers that descended on medbay once a week.

Interesting bunch, the Jedi. A lot more personable than Bucket had thought they would be. Surprisingly calm up until you admitted to using a soldering torch to close an acute laceration. 

(It wasn't even a recent injury--it happened so long ago that it was already healed. But now Master Nema gave Bucket the stink eye whenever she saw him, like she was trying to determine how medically stupid he'd been in her absence.)

"--figure what they were going on about?"

Bucket snapped to attention as the exterior doors slid open, a placid expression settling across his features. He turned toward the voice--only to relax when he caught sight of the visitors.

"Just something about another shift in the Force," Marshal Commander Cody said, offering Captain Rex a shrug. "It's not as bad as when Palpatine died; nobody passed out this time, at least."

"Small mercies," Commander Gree observed, bringing up the rear behind them. He had four takeout containers cradled in one arm, and by the smell they were from the offensively good noodle cart that parked near the base of the Rotunda. Bucket took a deep, envious breath and decided he was definitely going there for latemeal.

This particular group of GAR troopers--along with Commanders Bly and Wolffe--were a familiar enough sight at Guard HQ. They didn't visit often, almost eternally deployed to the front lines, but whenever their leaves lined up they usually made an appearance. Bucket had never seen all five together at once, but maybe that would change now that the war was over and battalions were being called back to Coruscant.

"Commanders, Captain," he greeted, standing up behind the counter to salute. His second for the day, Kelari, hastily copied the action. 

Cody waved the formality away with the sign for 'at ease', nodding at the two of them in turn.

"Sergeant Bucket," he greeted. "And I don't think I know..?"

"Private Kelari, sir!" Kelari chirped. She was still painfully shiny, wide-eyed and awestruck as she stared up at the Marshal Commander, and Bucket allowed the gaping with fond indulgence. 

She was one of their most recent acquisitions, part of a squadron that arrived after the death of the Chancellor. The group didn't have any direct experience with the war or the suffering that came with it, and the entire Guard were doing their damndest to make sure they never would.

"Private Kelari," Cody acknowledged, one side of his mouth ticking up. "Good to meet you."

Kelari beamed; Bucket shooed her away so he could get back in front of the security screens. 

"The Jedi up to shenanigans again?" he asked as he pulled up the admittance forms. 

Rex sighed, heavily, and Cody shot him an amused look.

"Let's just say," Gree said, "That it will be nice to avoid more half-coherent explanations on how the Force works in the future."

Bucket snorted, starting to fill out the usual info. The Guard never got a Jedi--and with the reveal of Palpatine being a Sith, they now knew why--but he had to admit he was glad they never needed to deal with the often-inexplicable Jedi tendency to rely so much on some invisible cosmic power.

"Captain CT-7567," he recited idly as his fingers flicked across the keys, "Commander CC-2224, and Commander CC-1004, here to see Commander--"

Bucket blinked at the 'reason for visit' box. 

This batch of clones had been visiting the entire war, either by themselves or together, whenever their rare leave allowed. They came often enough that if Bucket wasn't the one that would suffer the datawork hassle later, he would have just waved them on through. 

He was familiar enough with them to know that Cody's infamous scar came from a sparring accident, that Gree had three half-finished xenobiology research papers that he hoped to someday publish, and that Rex had been forcibly adopted by the CC clones without being allowed any input in the matter. He knew that Wolffe had three implanted teeth from multiple attempts at biting trainers through their armor as a cadet, and that Bly sometimes mixed up his letters and numbers and had almost been decommissioned as a result.

And Bucket had no idea what to put in the box.

He slowly lifted his gaze from the half-finished form to meet Cody's eyes. 

Missing memories weren't that uncommon, in the Guard, but as Bucket watched confusion steal across Cody's face--as that confusion shifted into rising unease and panicked alarm--he didn't think it was just a Guard problem, anymore.

[heirofazure]

Thrawn’s Musings: 2

A Mother’s Sacrifice

Summary: Sad!Thrawn shower thoughts. I wanted to explore what a Chiss mother’s lullaby would be like considering their culture of rematching to new families. Are they conditioned from childhood that one's birth family may not always be there? Is it taboo to speak of one's past if rematched to a new family? Do Chiss keep in contact with their former/birth relatives if they are rematched? Does a birth family only refer to one by their new name, or a variation of one's core name since it's the one that follows the Chiss for the entirety of their lives? I’d love to see more people exploring this.

Precision, precision, precision was Thrawn’s mantra as beads of sweat streamed down his face and onto the floor of his private sparring gym. Of all the private amenities provided to him as Grand Admiral, this had to be the one he was most thankful for. The vibroblade gripped in his right fist thrummed with energy as he wielded it with brutal efficiency, the blade flashing as it made contact with the Imperial sentry droid’s black plating. He swiftly lifted his left forearm to block a rapid punch from the droid, the vibroblade’s hilt dragging along his chest and plunging forward into the droid’s alloy abdomen. Energy crackled along the plating and caused the droid to seize, granting Thrawn mere seconds to catch his breath. Fatigue was beginning to take over, and when he glanced at the crono on the wall, he realized he had been sparring for over 30 minutes. If he continued, his form would become sloppy.

Absolutely unacceptable. 

“Override...Code Ruhk,” Thawn said between ragged breaths. The droid immediately shifted into attention stance and powered down, Thrawn’s reflection becoming clearer in the sudden darkness now occupying its dimming red eyes. He swallowed as he took in his appearance, noting his own red eyes hooded with exhaustion, and his blue skin a shade paler than usual. 

His reflection was the only Chiss he’d laid eyes upon in the years since he’d entered Imperial service. It had never bothered him before, but for the past few months, it had begun to weigh on his mind. A reunion with Admiral Ar’alani was anticipated in the future due to unusual events occurring within the borders of the Empire, but it had yet to come to fruition. Had he even spoken a word of Cheunh in the past standard year? A hollow feeling began to expand in his chest. His exercising garments, now saturated with perspiration, felt too tight as the sensation spread throughout his entire body.

Melancholy. A feeling he was never fond of but currently permeating every fiber of his being. He shook his head and exited the sparring gym. Light followed his movement as motion sensors tracked his path from the gym to his shower. The thought of warm water and soap washing away the sticky sensation he felt all over brought a smile to his face. Surely that would make him feel better. He strode into his refresher, settling on the fact that of all his private amenities, his spacious shower ranked second. He began humming as he removed his garments and entered the stall, stark white lights illuminating the space. Soaps from distant planets housed in a variety of containers lined the wall, each a unique piece of art that made his cleansing space akin to a private gallery of all his intergalactic travel.

He was still humming a tune as he pressed the buttons to activate the shower, releasing a sigh of satisfaction when steaming water hit his skin from various jets clustered along the ceiling and walls. However, as the realization of what he was humming began to process through his mind, the smile that was plastered across his face slowly shrank. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, tipping his head back as water ran through his hair and cascaded down his back. 

Rentor. His home planet. The melody? His mother’s. He could still hear her voice echoing within his mind as he stood under the jets, his humming increasing in volume as he remembered the words of the old Chiss lullaby.

Deep in the Chaos,

Far, far away. 

Cold unforgiving,

Our Ascendancy brave.

Resilient hearts,

Traditions of old. 

Fortune be with you,

Warrior soul.

Thrawn felt the weight of his sadness from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. He wondered if it was possible that his own reflection made him recall the characteristics he inherited from a woman he never spoke to again after rematching to the Mitth. The woman who gave him life.

Your name may change,

And your life may lead,

Down paths I can’t follow,

To places I won’t be.

He had never reached out to her. Although it was frowned upon, birth family contact had never been explicitly prohibited by the Mitth. As he lathered dzisnir herb soap on a cleansing cloth and began scrubbing his torso, he felt the reason for his choice rise from the depths of his mind. There was no question about the pain this topic held in his birth home. 

Vurika’s disappearance. Being an inquisitive child, a young Vurawn constantly asked about his older sister after she vanished. There were never clear answers from his parents, although he would catch a pained look sweep across his mother’s face if Vurika was so much as mentioned. After countless attempts, he at some point stopped asking. However, he always ruminated on it, hoping to solve the reason for her disappearance as easily as a tactical dilemma.

Oh, how naïve he was.

As the years passed, Thrawn did his best to excel in his studies and remain obedient to his parent’s wishes, if only to not be the next child that disappeared. In hindsight, he realized his parents could have never revealed such sensitive information as to Vurika’s whereabouts, even if they had wanted to. 

Even if the silence hurt them as much as it hurt him. Even if he had vanished as well.

But you, my dear child,

Remember in your heart,

That if I live in your memory,

We’ll never be apart.

As he rinsed off the last of the soap, Thrawn felt his throat tighten with raw emotion. His mother had not lost just one child, but both her children to the needs of the Ascendency. More so, his passion for art stemmed from her influence. The fondest of his childhood memories were those seated next to her easel, watching her blend colors and bring to life the faces of children she would never see again. Had she had more children? Had she sung them that lullaby? Had she seen his successes and failures on her Questis news feeds, reading about a son who no longer acknowledged her existence? Was she still alive? 

There was no way for him to answer these questions now. Unlike everything else in his life, he had never planned for this. 

He had never planned to think of his birth mother, let alone miss her.

He found he couldn’t bring himself to exit the stall as he shut off the water. The light around him seemed too bright, and his breathing was shallow and quick. He closed his eyes for a moment to settle his senses, and was stunned to see his face- her face, peering at him from the earlier reflection in his training droid’s eyes. 

In that moment, a sudden tremor emanating from the core of his being overcame all his logical faculties like a massive explosion; emotions that had been suppressed for survival finally erupting on the surface. He roughly grasped the handlebar along the wall with one hand, and a pitiful whimper escaped his lips. Then another, followed by another. He could feel the tears roll down his face as shudders racked his entire body. He had given everything to the Ascendency, and so had she. 

So had she.

Although I don’t know,

What harms you will face,

My love for you transcends,

Both time and space.

So go far, my child,

And if you seek me,

Within your reflection,

There I will be.

And as Thrawn finally cried for the mother he once had, he allowed himself to wonder if all their sacrifices would be worth it in the end.

Thank you to @stars-n-spice for the Thrawn divider!

[threepandas]

The Vod's List: Part 3

The Separatist Army tries invade the Techganic homeworld and DIES SCREAMING.

I... I am cackling like a broken laugh 'track, in a low Senatorial staff seating area. Pretty sure everyone thinks I've lost my chips. But... BUT THEY DON'T GET IT! It's so FUNNY!? Oh Bones and Blood! Oh karking STARS!!! Of all the kriffing PLANETS to PHYSICALLY INVADE with DROIDS!!!

DROIDS!

I am wheezing. Gasping for air. Slowly tipping out of my chair as I all but seize silently in spasms of sheer, incredulous, amusement. Oh Stars, I'm gonna die. My gut is on fire and I DONT CARE. Droids! Just... just DROPPED UM right into the capitals like "here ya go! Surrender flesh bags!"

Pfffahahahahaha!

I finally slip, only for a gloved hand to catch my shoulder gently, keeping me from crashing to the floor. A calculated step and lift, brings my shoulder to brace against the side of familiar armor. A guard. I manage to glance up through my incoherent laughing fit. I know that armor!

"Fox!" I grin, glad I am starting to be able to tell the gaurds apart. It always felt rude to have to keep asking their names, even when I by all rights SHOULD already know them. "Good morning."

"Ma'am." He nods. I still don't get why people think they're 'emotionless'. Even through the voicecoder, his voice is warm. "Funny joke?"

"The Separatists invaded my planet." I laugh. At his questioning head tilt, I grin MEANLY from behind my mask. "Remember how we met? And you got infected? EVERYONE on my planet is some version of carrier, either Organic or Technological. Depending on where those droids land? They are either FOOD or free scrap metal. The Collective will EAT them. And folks back home?"

I glanced around, trying to find the room's cameras. Fox casually pointed before stepping between it's line of sight and me. Kriff he was so cool. I grabbed one of the old datapads I was supposed to dump in the recycler after my break. No one would miss if I threw one in the biohazard shoot instead... probably.

I turned it on. Showing it worked. A perfectly functioning, if old, datapad. Then? I listened to that old, old, OLD instinct in the back of my head that karking HATED technology. That honestly would be happier living in a stone shack on a distant moon, surrounded by growth. That could, at a glance, pick apart any given peice of technology's weak points.

Not to slice it. Or IMPROVE it. But to BREAK it. Irreparably.

My eyes found the weak point in the screen almost immediately. A point where fingers had worn it thin. Smack! I cracked it against the table, like an animal trying to open trying to open a nut. It cracked. And that was all I needed. All ANY of us would ever need, really.

Just One Little Crack.

I pulled off my mask, knowing my face was probably doing that... THING. That "super intent Murder Hunter" thing that we all do, when our instincts engage. But I wanted to show Fox. I trusted him. So I flexed my jaw and thought of the lift, of how me met, the STRESS. Just enough to get a bit of drool.

Then... I let it drop onto the screen.

The reaction, was of course, IMMEDIATE.

The datapad hissed and squealed, screen glitching violently. I carefully put it down, familiar with what was about to happen. Fox... was not. He watched. Frozen. Entranced. As the datapad burned and melted from within. Was CONSUMED. As my nanites wrecked hell in their final moments before dying, no longer supported by my body. Some of course, simply falling dormant.

Those were the lethal ones. The trap for future Collective members trying to reclaim tech. It's why all infected materials had to be treated as a biohazard. Those nanites stayed viable for upwards of a century AT LEAST. Several, in the right condition.

So droids? Ha! We were BIOENGINEERED to fight "droids"! We WERE the original GAR. What was that Human saying? "Nothing new in the Galaxy?" That.

Fox was taking even, measured, breaths. Clenching and unclenching his hand. His voice sounded... strained, as he agreed. That, yes. We WERE very, VERY alike. And that that was FASCINATING. Could his spit do that now too?

I... didn't know. Huh.

I blinked. First up at him. Then down at the 'pad. I hadn't considered that. Kriff. Well THAT was irresponsible of me. Yeah, yeah we should probably schedule some Techganic 101 lessons, shouldn't we? Since... you know, assuming you SURVIVE infection and first "heal"? It's kinda a one and done sort of thing.

You can't get... double infected? It very much IS a you ARE or you AREN'T a carrier. And even THEN... one of two kinds, which CAN NOT peacefully coexist.

Plus... since it's adapted to the Guards biology, a spread would be SUPER easy?

.........I..... I SHOULD tell someone.

But what would happen to Fox? I'm not blind. People aren't exactly... KIND to Clones. Would they decide its just easier to get rid of him? My gut say probably. Experience says likely. I've barely even STARTED working at the Senate and... well...

Maybe I should keep my mouth shut. WE should keep our mouth shut.

"This time, I'll be the one looking out for YOU, kay Fox?"

"Of course. I'll leave my self in your capable hands. I have no doubt... I'll learn A LOT."

There is something intent about the way he stands, the way he's bracketing me into my chair. The almost soft, warm but cloying quality to his voice. Like he's trying not to make it obvious he's handling me. Like I'm some import dignitary he wants to avoid upsetting. But one he LIKES. It's strange... I'm certain I'm missing something...

At least I have plenty of other Guards around to ask.

[kybercrystals94]

Six Weeks (Part 3)

Read here on Ao3!

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Rated: T | Words: 917

A/N: Ugh! This chapter has been giving me the run around; however, I wanted to assure you that I haven't given up on this fic...it's just taking longer than I'd like...so I decided to post what I've written so far with the promise that I will get this story wrangled eventually 🥲

In the Rebellion, Omega is a captain. She has rebel fighters under her command and direction. She gives orders and they are followed. She plans missions and carries them out successfully. She is trusted, respected, and capable of any feat given to her. 

On Pabu…

“You better not try to get up while I’m gone,” Crosshair says, arms folded over his chest, eyes narrowed. 

Omega sighs, picking at a loose thread on the hem of Wrecker’s old shirt. “Yeah, so you’ve said. Twice.” 

“Because it’s important that you listen.” 

“AZI said I could walk around on my leg as long as I’m careful,” Omega protests, and she hates that her tone comes out almost whiny. “So did the medics at the base. You guys are making a bigger deal out of this than it is.”

“Humor us then.” Crosshair doesn’t wait for her to snark something back before he walks away. The front door opens and shuts, and she is left in the quiet house by herself. 

Wrecker is down at the docks to buy fresh fish for dinner, and Hunter still hasn’t returned from wherever he disappeared to. Crosshair didn’t say where he was going; however, Omega hopes that it’s to find Hunter. She’d go herself if it weren’t for the overbearing nanny droid that looks suspiciously like an ex-Republic sniper. 

Omega pulls out her data pad and sends Hera a message. You’ll be happy to know that my brothers are being as insufferable as you hoped.

The reply comes a moment later. Good. I better not see you for six weeks.

Yes, sir, Omega types back, hoping Hera reads it with its intended sarcasm. 

That taken care of, Omega tosses her data pad to the other end of the couch and sinks back into cushions. She looks around the main room, searching for things that might have changed while she’s been away; however, it is exactly as she remembers. Her brothers’ valiant attempts at home decor are still scattered throughout the room. Endearing eyesores, Echo had called them once when Omega complained about Wrecker putting up a piece of rusted metal he’d fished out of the sea.  

“He said it’s his favorite shape,” Omega had groaned, laughing. “I don’t even know what that shape is!” 

Hunter had bought a painting from the market that he claimed was abstract art; however, everyone knew that it was just a horribly, awfully painted tooka. Its eyes seemed to follow you around the room, becoming an inside joke: the tooka sees everything. However, Hunter will defend the “art’s” honor to his dying breath. 

Then there was Crosshair’s contribution, which Omega swears he did just because he knew it would annoy her. He collects rocks. Not pretty or unique rocks. Plain, nondescript, ugly rocks. He keeps hanging up shelves to display them on, and he makes them placards to note where they were found and the date.

“Rock.” Found: South Beach, Main Island, Pabu. Date: 15 BBY. 

“Rock.” Found: Left Boot, Main Island, Pabu. Date: 12 BBY. 

Omega does notice that a shelf has been added and a new row of rocks begins to line the plank of wood. She rolls her eyes. Omega decides that she will not give her brother the satisfaction of knowing whether or not she’s noticed. The perfect payback, because she knows he’ll never ask. 

**

“We’ve had worse injuries,” Crosshair says behind him. 

Hunter scoffs, seizing another weed by its base and yanking it out of the ground. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” 

“No,” Crosshair says, moving to lean against the wall, “just stating a fact.” 

“Appreciate it,” Hunter growls, rummaging through the foliage of the garden for another imposter. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t storm further away from the house.”

“I didn’t storm.” 

Crosshair huffs. “You had us fooled.” 

Hunter sits back on his heels and glares up at his youngest brother. “If you’re out here just to offer commentary, I really don’t need it right now.” 

“Oh, really,” Crosshair drawls. “And what do you need?” 

“I need to not think about it right now,” Hunter bites out, dusting the dirt from his hands. “I don’t want to think about Omega almost dying. I don’t want to think about her putting herself at risk every single day. I don’t want to think about the fact that we aren’t there to protect her because…” 

“We’re old?” Crosshair supplies.

Hunter makes a face. “That’s not why.” 

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “Whatever our reasons are for not fighting, it doesn’t matter…Omega’s made her choice. So don’t think about all that entails right now…because you have no control over any of it anyways. Instead, think about the fact that Omega’s stuck with us for the next six weeks and what we’re going to do with her while she’s in captivity.”

Hunter scoffs, moving to stand up and accepting Crosshair’s outstretched hand when it’s offered. “I forgot how poetic you are.” 

“One of my many talents,” Crosshair says loftily, but he moves his hand to Hunter’s shoulder, gripping it tight. “But I mean it, Hunter. We’re going to put our opinions aside, enjoy the time we have with her. Yeah?” 

Hunter swallows and nods. 

“Good.” 

As they start for the back door, Crosshair asks, “Do you think Omega’s noticed my new shelf of rocks.” 

Hunter grins. “She won’t say if she has.” 

“Brat,” Crosshair grumbles. 

“Says the one who keeps a rock collection just to annoy her,” Hunter says, bumping against Crosshair. 

Crosshair smirks. “A foundless accusation.”

TBC

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