#sw fan fic

[allskywalkerswhine]

in fics where luke gets plopped into the prequels i want every jedi within ten metres of him to think hes the weirdest jedi theyve ever seen. he has negative lightsaber form. he doesnt know what a kata is. he handstands when he meditates. his solution to sith is to try and have a chat. hes a political radical who keeps suggesting revolution. you ask him what the jedi code is and he says "kindness and compassion and helping those in need :) ". you ask how he used the force like that and he says some shit about how you are a luminous being limited only by your mind. the councils authority is just a suggestion. he is somehow the new favourite of both qui gon and yoda

[izzystizzys]

When the 212th collaborates with the 501st, chaos is sure to follow in their footsteps. This has been largely true of every engagement since the start of the war, in Cody’s experience. Had he even an ounce more of a rebellious streak, he might question why and whether the success rate is worth the feral instinct for mayhem his battalion and Rex’ awaken in each other - as it is, he simply fills out the after action reports and then screams into his pillow, which is hard as durasteel and doesn’t warrant the name.

Or, on some days, he steps into the training rooms to work off some nervous jitters only for his foot to catch on someone’s armoured shoulder and faceplant straight into what looks like the entirety of both battalions piled together in a massive cuddle pile.

“What”, he manages between gritted teeth, heaving himself up with one hand supported on Crys’ arm and the other planted in places that make Boil jackknife up with a strangled yelp, “the kriff is this?!”

“We’re watching the Corrie Reality Special, sir”, his own voice calls from somewhere across the room. “The 91st is passing by, so we have satellite access to the Coruscant Broadcast network for a few hours, and we couldn’t settle on a specific show -“

“- so we decided to watch them all”, Rex finishes, sheepishly, where he’s fought his way through wiggling piles, hoots and badly imitated monkey lizard noises. The thought that he shares DNA with these degenerates is enough to drive Cody to the brink of a nervous breakdown some days. “Spopcorn?”

Ah. The Corrie Reality Circuit. When Cody first heard of it, he’d thought it was a prank. Then, they were deployed to the middle of bumkriff nowhere on the edges of Midrim space edging on Outer Rim, with a connection so spotty even classified military intel only got through about half the time, and the whole idea got shelved in favour of clankers and keeping his General’s lightsaber in his General’s hand where it belonged.

Now, a gaudy, glittery monstrosity of a logo announcing a Coruscant Rotational special appears on a rigged up screen, which means one of two things: either Fox is pulling the Galaxy’s greatest long con on all of them, or he’s been murdered and replaced with an evil clone (ha!), because there are no circumstances in which he would agree to star on Coruscant Reality TV.

Cody tilts his head consideringly. Rex smiles at him sheepishly. Tilts the spopcorn bowl at him, invitingly.

“Oh, dank farrik, sit your shebs down!”, someone (Fives, probably) yells out, fed-up…ly.

Cody sits his shebs down.

“Good morning and welcome all of Coruscant to the Great Coruscant Rotational Special: Our Boys in Red Edition!”, a bright red Twi’leki man announces on the screen amidst cheerful jizz music and loud hooting from the training room. “My name is Braham Horton, and I will be your exalted host for this fine, fine late night cycle!”

“And now, gentlebeings of the metropolis, I present to you the images that have driven us all to laughter, joy, and even tears at times over these past few weeks - whodathunkit, that the CSF media project would enthrall a whole Galaxy of viewers and cause the largest recorded peaceful civil protest of all time?!”

“The sorry what now”, says Cody, suddenly thinking back to the urgent meeting General Kenobi was currently in with Generals Windu and Yoda - passing by on the Venator in orbit. “Uhm”, says Rex. Braham Horton, unfazed by the commotion he’s causing lightyears away, chatters on.

“- many hours, so we’ve compiled an introductory little best-of for you, exalted viewers! And what better best of to start off on than the hottest entry of the most explosive bombshell into the villa - please give it up for Commander Thorn and how he stole all of our hearts on Love Island!”

A garish, club-tech jingle Cody has so far only heard buzz through the walls of establishments that generally didn’t allow clones thrums through the training room, followed by what can only be described as the sort of noises spiced up banthas might make. Thorn appears on screen, more oiled up and half-naked than Cody remembers, though just as bleach-blond, hair slightly longer than regulation and smile blindingly perfect.

“I’m Commander Thorn, baseline twenty-four years humanoid - during daytime I might be the scourge of Coruscant’s criminal underworld, but at night I don’t mind playing good cop for you!” He punctuates it woth a sleazy wink and fingerblasters that have Rex honest-to-god gagging, and Cody seeing his life flash before his eyes. If Alpha-17 finds out about this…

Suddenly, Thorn’s smile drops in favour of what might almost be called a scowl on even his handsome face, and the music cuts out. “There, got your soundbyte. Can I go back now? I’m supposed to be on shift.” Indistinct, off-screen chatter and a captioned oopsie… appear in a shower of glitter. Thorn’s face does something complicated. “For HOW MANY MONTHS?!”

Cut to a montage of what Cody can only describe as beaches, oil and abs galore, Braham Horton narrates and extremely close-up shot of what Cody tries very hard not to identify as Thorn’s crotch. His own crotch, in a way. Oh no, that’s weird, stop that train of thought immediately-

“Although our favourite bombshell’s entry into the villa wasn’t without its hitches and hurdles-“, emphasized by a zoom-in on Thorn’s form in a speedo huddled away from a partying crowd of softcore-kriffing contestants on a yacht, “- as well as all know, he would soon find his place in the villa - or places, rather!”

Two crying humanoid women appear on screen, with eyeliner smudges down to their knees. A hoot goes through the room. Cody watches with a sense of impeding doom. “You slept with her after I chose to match up with you instead of Chad?! How could you!”

Thorn, still oiled up with both blasters out for the world to see, winces. “I didn’t me-“

A hysterical gasp, a camera swerve. Three more people stand by the doorway, all clutching their chests with wide eyes. A broad, green Twi’leki man raises a finger to point accusingly. “You were sleeping with them too?! I thought I was the only one!”

“Dear Force”, Cody murmurs, unable to look away from the building speeder wreck on screen. Braham Horton laughs good-naturedly at his misery. “Ah, good times! And who could forget the all-out brawl of the following matching night, where a record number of every single other contestant attempted to physically fight the others for the right to match up with Commander Thorn! Including a somehow returned Chad, who nearly won thanks to the element of surprise. I wish we could show the footage, but then we’d have to slap several warnings on it and probably still get taken off the air.”

“I didn’t know Corries kriffed like that!”, someone (Fives, let’s be honest, it was definitely Fives) calls out into the room, receiving snickers and a well-aimed pillow to the throat for his trouble. He goes down with a choking scream.

“Someone who was less impressed by the hot’n bothered beach weather was Commander Thire, who found himself Less than Impressed by his co-contestants inability to keep it in their pants on Too Hot To Handle!”

Thire’s face, identical to Thorn’s in every way except the ones that matter, appears on screen. His black hair is cut in a cropped mohawk, arms folded over a button-up he’s carefully pieced together with… safety pins? Where are the buttons on it?

“These people are pathological and pathetic and I will spend not a second longer on this farce of an attempt at ‘entertainment show’”, says Thire, air-quotes so sharp they could cut stone. His scowl might be permanently etched into his face, Cody can’t tell. “Unlike literally everyone else, I have an actual job to do. Now move.”

A brief pause, in which cheerful jizz music plays over what is obviously a producer begging off-camera, followed by an eyeroll so hard it hurts Cody’s brain to watch. Thire throws his hands into the air in defeat, marching off into the sea behind him still fully clothed.

“When they didn’t find him until the last episode, I’ll admit, I thought he’d died too!”, Braham Horton cuts in cheerfully. “But would you look at his little lonely island lair - now that’s a fulfilled man, and too many coconuts for my taste! We’ve had to blur his hands out as he discovered the cameras just moments before these holos were taken, unfortunately. And, dear viewer, who could forget this exit-interview for the ages!”

A considerably more clothed Thire appears on screen, eyeing a microphone like he’s about to use it to stab out his own eyes. The reporter clears their throat in audible anxiety. “C-commander, how would you describe your reality experience in one word?”

“Demeaning”, says Thire, blandly.

Silence.

“Um, o-okay”, squeaks the reporter.

“Would you like some more words?”, asks a dead-eyed Thire.

“No, um, I think - I think we’re alright.”

“Because I have many words. Mostly for whoever the *bleep* thought this was a *bleep* good idea, and *bleeeeeeee-*”

“We’ve had to censor most of the Commander’s on-screen appearance, dear viewer, for your sensibilities”, says Braham Horton, eternally and painfully cheerful. “And speaking of sensibilities, who could forget Commander Stone honouring his name in several challenges on ‘I’m A Holostar - Get Me Out Of Here!’”

Soulful violin music fills the gym, overlaid with images of a bald vod Cody surmises must be Stone. Stone stares stonily into the void, glass of bright green something raised to his lips and already half-empty.

“Memorably, he downed a pint of acklay urine within seconds-“

Horrified screams are followed by an image of Stone chewing, yet another thousand-klick stare.

“- or when he ate Tauntaun anus -“

Rex doubles over gagging, and Cody slowly puts his handful of Spopcorn back down.

“- of course the ten minute worm-bath challenge cannot go unmentioned -“

“FORCE PLEASE NO!”, screams someone (Echo) tearfully. Commander Stone, buried to the chin in wiggling orange worms, looks less impressed.

“ - and who could forget his encounter with a horde of ginntho spiders and nests of vexis snakes!”

A remote goes sailing past the screen, missing by a mile, as images of Stone with his whole arm stuck in various boxes fly past. Someone is retching. It might be Cody.

“We would show the infamous butchery challenge wherein the Commander found himself drenched in nexu guts and sandworm brains, but once again, this is family friendly programming and we are not allowed. Nevertheless, a win well-deserved. And now, please welcome the one, the only, the awe-inspiring, the unbelievable: Marshall Commander Fox!”

Another Force-awful jingle, big, blocky letters, and Cody chokes on his own spit when Fox’s scowling face appears on screen. He’s thinner, greyer and angrier than the last time they saw eachother in person. Only the last one is really a surprise.

“I am neither naked nor afraid”, says Fox, arms crossed firmly, foot tapping impatiently on the ground. “I am, however, quickly losing my patience. Explain to me again the point of spending my valuable time undressing in the middle of bum-*bleep* nowhere on the Midrim instead of doing my job as the head of planetary security in the middle of a Galaxy-wide war?”

Several beats of silence follow. Fox grows less impressed with each. Cody knows that look well. Usually, it precedes handcuffs and a cold sonic blast to the face.

“Um… you signed a contract?”, says a producer’s voice uncertainly off-screen. Fox barks out a harsh laugh. “I’m legally classified as military property, my signature holds less weight than if I’d had one of the Guard’s massiffs shit on that contract for me.”

“Ouch!”, calls Crys.

“Gettim!”, adds Longshot.

“But… don’t you sign off military documents all the time for the Senate?”, sputters the producer.

Fox smiles with far to many teeth. It’s also a look Cody knows far too well, and even lightyears away it has a shudder going down his spine.

“Really makes you think about the technicalities of that definitely-not-slave-army, doesn’t it?”, he says, dryly.

“Although considerably less naked and afraid than all other contestants, Commander Fox left us with many memorable moments - such as when he saved the entire crew from an angry Acklay!”

Most of the next holovid is blurred out, though Cody can (unfortunately) guess at the why and how. So can most everyone else, judging by the collective groan.

“Down, boy”, says Fox, flatly, to a hissing Acklay twice his size. It rears its fanged head, and a shudder goes through the room. Fox simply crosses his arms and nails the beast with an unimpressed look. “You are making a fool of both of us. Cut it out.”

Chastised, the Acklay blinks at him, slowly lowering itself back down with a confused hiss.

“No kriffing wonder all the Corrie shinies are such hardasses”, mutters Rex, whom Cody is hard pressed to agree with. “I came from a tube and that look gave me daddy issues.”

“Yes, dear viewer, who could forget these heart-warming moments of good, quality television!”, sighs Braham Horton, dreamily. “Not Coruscant anytime soon, that’s for sure! We are now entering the twentieth rotation of the sit-in protest of a petition to allow the Commanders of the Coruscant Guard to compete on Dancing With The Planets, Coruscant Rotational’s epic dance competition!”

“Dear bum-kriffing Force”, whispers Rex, wide-eyed and awe-struck. “Does Fox know about this?!”

Cody, who’s already dialing the kriffer’s comm-code, wipes a singular tear from his eye. “Not a clue, but kriff, am I going to enjoy telling him.”

[spectre-week]

Join us for Spectre Week!

This is a fanwork event week celebrating the Ghost Crew from Star Wars Rebels, AKA the Spectres.

May 25-31, 2024.

No prompts! Just a theme: Tales of the Spectres.

Alllll the backstories! Inspired by the Star Wars animated Tales… series, our theme will focus on the Spectres’ lives before they became a crew, a team, and, in some ways, a family.

Each day of the event will feature works about the day’s Spectre:

Day One-Spectre One (Kanan)

Day Two-Spectre Two (Hera)

Day Three-Spectre Three (Chopper)

Day Four-Spectre Four (Zeb)

Day Five-Spectre Five (Sabine)

Day Six-Spectre Six (Ezra)

Day Seven-Free

The only limitations for fanworks are these:

Character: Feature one character per day, on the appropriate day.

Timeframe: Tell any part of their backstory that you want, from birth until just before Spark of Rebellion.

NSFW: This event is open to NSFW content, but please tag it as such and place it under a cut as needed.

Other than that, the rest is up to you! We’ll send out more info soon, but we hope that’s enough to get you started. If you have any questions, Just Ask!

Please reblog to spread the news!

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕔𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴡʀᴇᴄᴋᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱQᴜɪɴᴛ, ᴜʜ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ʏᴇᴀʜ ɪᴛꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

⋆ ★ *ᴇᴍᴇʀɢᴇꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʜᴇʀᴍɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴄᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜʀᴏᴡꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ* ʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪ ɢᴜᴇꜱꜱ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter

Hunter gets overheated/stimulated easily due to his heightened senses so he doesn’t cuddle for very long in pressed together positions.

BUT he likes proximity, being able to hear your breath and heartbeat, seeing every little dimple and curve of your body, knowing you are here and you’re his.

So he will press his head to your chest to listen to your heartbeat and relax with the rise and fall of your chest.

And if you run your hands through his hair you’ll coax the most blissful sighs out of him.

Tech

He’s fidgety, so staying in one cuddling position is a struggle. Always needs to readjust because one spot can get uncomfortable and awkward very quickly.

It gets tedious, especially at night in bed when both of you are grueling to sleep.

However, he’ll try his best for you.

Likes to tangle all his limbs with yours; legs, arms, fingers as your interlock and hold hands, etc.

Also traces and rubs patterns into your skin or over your clothes absentmindedly. You’re his favorite fidget toy.

Might ramble to you. Whether or not you respond and actively have a conversation doesn’t matter to him. He is simply glad that you’re here to listen.

Wrecker

Cuddle bug!

Any free time with you he will actively seek your body wrapped around his arms.

Loves when you sit on his lap on a couch or seat, thighs pressed outside each of his own; he’ll trail his arms up and down your waist, maybe cheekily have a feel of your ass once or twice (sorry, he can’t help himself).

Also likes when you’re just intermingled on his cot, staring up while you talk about everything and nothing.

Wrecker runs very warm, and you might have to push him away from his firm grasp when you begin to sweat and pant a little. Despite his sweet complains and pleads to come back, he’ll let you go nonetheless. But you’ll return to his arms inevitably.

Crosshair

“Why would I want cuddles?” he says, already itching for your touch.

Doesn’t actively seek it out, but god he relishes every time you want to cuddle.

Likes it when you lean your head on his shoulder or on his lap as he cleans his rifle or something else along those lines. It gives him enough mobility to move but still that contact each of you crave.

He might itch for more if he isn’t doing anything with his hands, and may trace patterns onto your arm, shoulder, back, thigh, knee, anywhere that’s convenient and in reach.

Although he’s aware that you like it, he begins doing it mostly for himself. And also, it gives him an excuse to secretly admire you.

Echo

Initially, he’s nervous you’ll feel uncomfortable cuddling with him because of his prosthetics and build.

So when you do express affection and craving for that sort of intimacy, he feels inept.

With more time and trust in the relationship he warms up to it more.

Enjoys wrapping his non-scomp arm around you and encourage you to wrap your arms around his waist.

Will keep his leg prosthetics untangled from yours unless you initiate it.

Likes to plant kisses on your forehead before trailing down to your ear to mutter (sweet) nothings.

His love translates to his cuddling, you quickly discover. Languid and romantic. Though he severely dreads the moment you inevitably separate.

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @captainfresh501 @thebomb-diggity @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @cw80831 @bluebird-dreams @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @a-single-tulip

[remy45]

So- I was writing my fic, which I wont enter in too much details, but I was thinking, in this Au where Padme lives, and Obi Wan thinks he killed Anakin in mustafar and he doesnt know he is alive as Vader, obviusly Padme thinks the same, that her husband died in mustafar by Obi Wan Kenobi.

So idk how to characterize this, would Padme have resent to Obi Wan for "killing Anakin"? Like I know she knows that he falled to the dark side and that- but in her last words she thinked that there still was good in him, so I dont think she would want him to die- but- Im confused and idk what to do.

Please writers and readers, help this is important for the fic.

[journen]

CWRB - Team #10

Hey guys! This was my piece for the @codywanreversebang event. :)

Military au!! Helicopter pilot Obi and door gunner Cody. I was fortunate enough to be paired with the amazingly talented writers @bitwhizzle and @crownprincecody . Check out their fics here, and here, respectively. Really - their stories did my art way more justice than it deserved, and i couldn’t recommend more you give them a read!

Thank you both for working with me!! 🥺 It was a pleasure!

[ndekvart]

Commission for @barmadumet for chapter 60 of her fic “Streets of Gold” ✨

Thank you for commissioning me! I was really excited to draw this wholesome scene of Anakin and young Obi-Wan meeting Obi’s beautiful sister, Ophelia🥹

[nosugarallspice]

heyy, could you do an hayden christensen x fem reader where they making love to eachother. it’s all gentle and sweet

You guys are making me go crazy for this man

He’s so pretty

Minors DNI!!

Word Count: 349

~~

Hayden hovered over you, now settled in between your legs. His kisses were long and gentle, he couldn’t get enough of you. You weren’t too sure what had gotten into him, he came home from work and couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

Now here you two are, in bed, tangled up together.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered into your ear as he slid inside of you. You let out a gasp, immediately being taken by the pleasure you felt as his cock stretched you out.

He set the pace; slow and gentle. He wanted to take his time with you, really make love to you tonight. His eyes met yours, staring deeply as he rocked his hips into yours, groaning as your walls swallowed him- so warm and so tight.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He states, breathless. Your mouth was agape, as the moans slipped past your lips. Nodding your head in response to him. Your hands slipped under his arms, gripping his sides and pulling him closer to you until the gap between you both closed.

“I missed you today.” You whimpered as the tip of his cock brushed against your spot continuously.

“Yeah?” His lips brushing against your earlobe as he spoke, you could feel his breath against your skin. “Mhm.” You hummed softly.

You leaned up, placing a sloppy kiss to his lips, your tongue danced with his. Your hands now tangled in his hair tugging softly, earning you a groan from him.

Hayden’s thrusts became sloppier by the second, he was close and so were you. But he held on longer, wanting you to finish before him.

“Harder.” You called out, in which he obliged, thrusting harder back into you. Your back arched as you felt your walls tighten around him.

“Oh fuck- yes!” You cried out as your orgasm took over. You couldn’t help but try to pull him even closer to you. Your pussy clenching around him repeatedly as he continued to thrust into you. 

“Good girl, I'm right here baby.” He whispered before spilling himself deep inside of you.

[sarcasticamaleont]

Arrived in that moment in my star wars fic that I need to decide whether to use the word kark or fuck.

[roughdaysandart]

Some of my fav Star Wars merch at Downtown Disney

My baby's father of course

These look extra fun for you sick freaks

The food and clothes were too cute!

And obligatory Boba included for @basiclauren 💘; I love the carbonite balloon lol

.

.

[arrothededushka]

Whoo hoooo!! Congrats!! And спасибо за ваши прекрасные арты! 😁 (My dad speaks Russian but I only learned a little).

I’d looooove a little artwork for the spicy Crosshair fic I’ve been writing with @lightwise over on my side blog, @spicy-clones

Perhaps Crosshair in a softer expression, about to confess his love to someone for the first time ever? 🥺

[spectre-week]

Spectres 1, 2, & 3 - Caleb Dume, Hera Syndulla, and Chopper - all met Clone Force 99 before they ever set foot on the Ghost!

Not only does that give us a few last minute ideas for Spectre Week, but we'd also liked to give a shoutout to @tbb-appreciation-week happening September 3-9, 2024. Prompt Voting is currently in the second round, and results/prompts will be revealed mid-June.

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕓𝕚𝕥𝕤 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ꜱᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴡᴇᴇᴛ

⋆ ★ ᴜʜ ʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴇ ɪ ꜱᴘᴇᴡᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter

The sergeant is very unruly in the bathroom.

He is the shittiest person to share a fresher with.

Somehow manages to leave the whole thing wet as he gets out of the shower, has hair all in the drains and clinging to the shower wall, and the mirror is totally fogged up to the point you have to air out the room for a solid few minutes.

All of his hair products and body care stuff also take up so much counter space, leaving barely enough for yours (which is much more minimal).

You’re trying your best to help Hunter implement new, better habits as time goes on, but it’s proving difficult.

He’d never believe you, but you might insist he’s this way because he likes to relax and not bother in the fresher, as it’s the only time for himself to truly unwind and enjoy himself.

But no. That can’t be the reason why. Right?

Tech

He is a CHRONIC nail biter and skin picker.

It’s just a constant fiddle thing.

Helps him focus on something but he also just gets picky with the state of his nails and the skin surrounding it.

Consistently gets to a point where the poor things are red and swollen and just look painful.

Subtly you try to make him stop; switching to a new soap, coating his nails with bad tasting polish and finish, etc.

It doesn’t work.

He somehow always manages to swerve around it and continue biting his nails.

One day you’ll find a strategy to get him to stop; hint, it might be letting him fiddle around with your hands a little…

Wrecker

Sloppy with food. Like, very sloppy.

If you hand him a full plate, a good portion of it will find its way onto the table, the floor, his pants, his shirt, and the surrounding area of his mouth.

He just can’t seem to keep it all in one place.

It’s not that big of a deal; if he’s truly conscious about it, he won’t actively make a mess (though he might still get some on his clothes and mouth), but a lot of the time, he isn’t.

Either way, it’s kind of charming. Seeing him snarf down food enthusiastically only fits so well with the rest of his character.

Crosshair

This man’s sleep schedule is fuuuuucked; more fucked than Tech’s, even.

He will go to bed early, wake up in the middle of night and stay up until the morning when he finally does fall asleep for a few hours but is forced to wake up and start the day.

Or alternatively, he’ll go to bed very late, sleep until noon, and spend his day taking minor naps only continuing his habit of sleeping later.

The worst part is he doesn’t make any effort to fix it and practically enables it.

What kind of fucked up form of masochism is this? you think.

He’s a quiet riser and sleeper so this habit of his manages not to affect anyone else, but it especially bothers you out of your care for crosshair and his well-being.

You might try and coax him to sleep and wake up at proper times with you, and it might work every now and then— but Crosshair’s sleep schedule doesn’t follow anyone’s orders.

Echo

This boy has really bad posture.

It’s not very obvious compared to Tech’s posture, but it causes him lots of shoulder and neck aches, especially when he’s sitting in the cockpit for too long.

You make jokes about getting him a back brace and he grumbles with a laugh, “I already got enough metal hooked up to me.”

Sometimes when you notice it and see him rubbing at his neck, you get his attention and sweetly tell him ‘shoulders up, love.’

Without fail, he does so with a soft smile and leans over to kiss your cheek as a way of thanking you for the reminder.

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @dukeoftheblackstar @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @captainfresh501 @thebomb-diggity @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @cw80831 @bluebird-dreams @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @a-single-tulip

[weixuldo]

the finished product :)

[hyperfixated-fan]

Holy Trinity of three mums

[beskarthief]

Chapter 2 of the Star Wars fic "Order 65". The rest can be found here.

19 BBY, Coruscant, Senate District

 Fox wondered what the senator had done to get herself into this mess.

 He knew that was probably above his pay grade to ask, fierfek, he didn't have a pay grade. And he knew well enough that asking questions was a one way ticket to an early retirement. But some part of him wanted to be curious.

 He didn't listen to it, though. Instead pushing the thought from his mind as he continued to sweep the perimeter of her apartments. It was a delicate balance, what he did. You had to be alert; absorb every detail and catalog it in the back of your mind. But you couldn't let those little details get to you. Couldn't remember the way she liked to arrange her rooms, or the kind of clothes she always wore, or the way she liked her caf. You had to know all those things, but you couldn’t know them. 

 Luckily, Fox had a lot of practice. The others though... he wasn't so sure.

 Fox knew that if he explained things to them, at least some would understand. Kosmo and Eight would, he decided. They understood the importance of order, and order came with rules. But Spike had always had a tendency to run his mouth, even when it wasn't in his own best interest. And the other one, Lucky, he was too new for Fox to be sure. It was hard to believe there were still shinies, even this far into the war. Even harder still to think that Lucky's batch would be the last ones. Ever.

 The war was really ending, wasn't it? Fox knew he was supposed to be relieved, but the thought just made him anxious.

 Pacing around the perimeter again, Fox returned his attention to the task at hand. This was no time to let his mind drift. The sounds of the bustling Coruscant night gradually faded into the almost indiscernibly different sounds of the bustling Coruscant day and Fox stifled a yawn. It had been a long night.

 He dismissed the others once the sun had risen, sending them back to the barracks to get some rest. It had been a long night, they deserved it. But the senator couldn't be left alone. He waited outside for her other bodyguards to arrive. The ones whose loyalty was to Pantora and not their Empire. If he could, he would stick around even after they’d come. He remained outside, not wanting to disturb the senator, who he could hear rustling about in her chambers despite the early morning.

 Still they did not arrive and Fox stretched restlessly. What kind of behavior was this for trained guards? It was then that he realized only five minutes had passed since he'd dismissed Kosmo and the others. Frustrated, he paced the perimeter again before circling back to the landing pad. Time seemed to drag.

 When he returned, the senator was standing at the edge, resting against the low fence that separated her from the open air and near endless drop below. It would be so easy, Fox thought. A single step forward, one push, plausible deniability, and it would be over. 

 He could say that he had gone back with the others, expecting the Pantoran guards to arrive soon after daybreak. Kosmo would back him up, once he explained. It would look bad, sure. But what did it matter? They were being weeded out anyway. And the only person who really mattered would know what he'd done. Would know that he could be relied upon.

 It wasn't so hard, really. He'd done it before.

 Fox's feet carried him unwittingly forward and he was suddenly standing beside the senator, looking out over the edge.

 She was wearing a thin nightgown, and it whipped around her legs in the brisk morning breeze. Her hair, for the first time since he'd seen her, was not held up in some sort of elaborate bun; instead it tangled freely around her face and billowed across her shoulders and down her back. Her nose and cheeks blushed lavender in the cool morning air as she turned to look at him, eyes sparkling despite the bags beneath them.

 "Isn't it beautiful, this time of morning?" she breathed. "It's as though the whole world is asleep."

 Fox looked out over the ever busy skyways of the city and it’s million lit towers that pierced the sky. "With all due respect, ma'am. I don't know if Coruscant ever sleeps."

 "On Pantora everything would be quiet now." she said wistfully. "You'd be able to look out and see the city wake up. I know it's not the same here on Coruscant. But somehow I still feel it. Even across the galaxy, I can feel Pantora waking up."

 "It sounds beautiful." Fox said, taking a step back from her and from the edge. It was too soon. It would be too obvious. He wasn't sure what he'd been thinking. If he'd been thinking at all.

 "Yes." the senator breathed again, voice still wistful. "Yes, it is."

 She stood there for a long moment, not saying anything, just taking in the city as somewhere on the other side of the galaxy, Pantora awoke. Then, after Fox supposed the final lights of her city must have come on, she took a deep breath and turned back to him.

 The other woman was gone - the one he would have called Riyo Chuchi - replaced by the senator standing before him once again. She smiled that same smile from the night before and looked around.

 “Just you?"

 Fox hesitated for a moment, wondering why it mattered. "With all due respect, ma'am, I'm more than capable of-"

 "Not what I meant." she cut him off, almost apologetically. As politely as someone could cut another off. "You must be exhausted after staying awake all last night."

 "Not the first time, ma'am."

 She sighed, starting towards her apartments. "And it won't be the last, I take it?"

 "Probably not,." he admitted, following her to the door. It would be better when she was inside, and he was out. The separation of a wall would do them some good.

 But she hesitated in the doorway, glancing back at him expectantly.

 "I'll keep an eye on the perimeter until your guards arrive." he assured her.

 "Not what I meant." she repeated, continuing to hold the door.

 Fox hesitated. "I'll sweep the room for you." he said at last, stepping into the apartments to do just that. They were immaculate as before, their white walls and counters shining in the early morning light. The seating area was plush and filled with intricately embroidered pillows. Most likely some sort of Pantoran design, as he had never seen it before. The long, flowing curtains had been drawn back from the windows to let the daylight stream in and gave the entire space a sort of dreamy, airy quality that was only accentuated by the high, lofty ceilings.

 The senator followed him inside, closing the door behind them, and proceeded to the kitchen with little regard for whether Fox had completed his sweep of the area or not.

 "Do you take your caf black, or with cream and sugar?" she asked, pulling two mugs from a nearby cabinet.

 "You don't have to, ma'am."

 She set the two mugs down on the counter. "Cream and sugar it is."

 Fox watched helplessly as she poured first one, then another mug of caf. Picking up her own, she walked towards her personal chambers.

 "It's the least I can do if you insist on staying up all night." the senator said, stopping once again in the doorway. "But if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to prepare for."

 "Of course, senator." He didn't know what else to say.

 She nodded to him, swept inside her chambers, and closed the door. After a moment, he heard a lock click.

 Fox continued his sweep of the room until it inevitably led him to the kitchen. He paused there, staring at the counter, where a single mug of caf had been left. The drink was a warm, milky brown color and smelled richly of early mornings spent on patrol with Thorn and Thire.

 It would be rude not to accept it, he decided. Afterall, how was he supposed to keep an eye on the senator if he could barely keep his eyes open?

 Lifting up the mug, he took it with him and returned to his post by the door.