#that's like the only good part about corellia

[moonstrider9904]

Pretty Thoughts

Part 3 of the Urban Flora mini series

Part 1 | Part 2 | Cross-posted to AO3 | Series Masterlist

Summary: You awaken to two truths - you are unmistakably in love with Crosshair, and you are both the main story on a popular gossip blog. Although this screams destruction for your reputation, what if it's a blessing in disguise?

Tags: Smut (18+ only), alcohol consumption, gossip, confrontation, female masturbation, vaginal sex, oral sex, creampie

Word count: 5.7k

Playlist: Pretty Thoughts by Alina Baraz

A/N: I've had the most fun writing and posting this series! Thank you to everyone who's read, commented, and shared! You are all the best. I hope you like the ending to this mini-series!

The nearly incessant beeping from your holopad woke you up after a night of heavy sleep. You were in that stage between your dreams and consciousness where you were just starting to make sense of things, and you reached to your nightstand for your holopad as you let out a groggy groan. When you unlocked it, your eyes widened at the screen, disregarding its glow on your pupils.

You had over 200 notifications among your messages and socials, and you quickly decided that couldn't be good.

You sat up on your bed and turned on your lamp - the sun was just beginning to rise outside, and the blinds in your bedroom blocked most of whatever light could come in anyways. You crossed your legs and held your holopad in front, and you opted to check your direct messages from any friends. First, you checked the messages from your closest friend, Pen, whom you rarely saw, but you could always confide in, and your heart nearly leapt from your chest when you saw the picture of Crosshair wearing the outfit he had on the day before, looking at the camera with a hint of confusion, but still composed and handsome as he normally was, and you recognized the area he was standing in as the street just outside the motel you had visited the day before.

Below the image, Pen's text read: Daaayum! Are all clones this fine? Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?

You closed out of her conversation and went onto your ongoing conversation with a different friend, Eloise, the daughter of the Senator from Corellia: Heads up, you and your mystery man made it to Scandal Gal.

Below, she had attached the full screenshot of the blog post, and below Crosshair’s picture, you read the caption:

Wakey wakey, high society: Sweetie's mystery man appears to be a silver fox dream. My sources say he was spotted entering a hotel with Sweetie and then leaving it, with our damsel of the moment seen leaving earlier than him, apparently glowing. While we may be left to fantasize about the happenings within the motel's walls, what I'm more interested to know is if this handsome young soldier is willing to introduce any of his brothers to us poor, starving gals. Consider me first in line.

With your heart pounding in your chest, you did what you knew you shouldn't have done and went over to Scandal Gal's blog and read the comments, though to your surprise, none of the comments were dragging you. You'd half expected to be called a slut by every commenter, but most of the thirsty girls in the blog were fawning at how handsome Crosshair was. You didn't particularly like a horde of girls digitally cat-calling your man, but you preferred that over a ruined reputation.

Overnight, you had become a phenomenon. What started as a picture with a few comments speculating about your encounter at the opera was now a full-fledged story that easily hundreds of people around the east side of Coruscant were following. You read multiple comments talking wonders about Crosshair, others talking wonders about you, very many admiring your relationship and how attractive you both looked together—and a few comments here and there dragging you and/or Crosshair, as expected, but overall, you and Crosshair had taken over the holonet for all the right reasons.

You wanted to laugh, but a part of it freaked you out as well. You’d never made a high profile of yourself. You’d always enjoyed your spoils in life in as private a way as possible, and the few times you’d actually made it to Scandal Gal had been because a dress you wore somewhere was beautiful, not because of your love life.

And only then, it hit you—did Crosshair know about this? And if he did, how would he take it?

Catastrophizing wouldn’t get you anywhere. You got up from your bed and put on your bathrobe, which rested on the armrest of the cozy chair next to your bed. You opened the blinds of your bedroom and took a moment to admire the Coruscant skyline with the sun making its way up the sky, dancing with a few clouds against the light blue hue. You exited your bedroom and headed past your living room with your holopad in hand, towards the kitchen to brew your coffee. As the coffee brewed, you opened the blinds to the rest of your apartment and basked in the morning peace far away from any whispers of scandal that lived in your holopad. You figured that was the bright side of it all—whether it was good talk or bad talk, it only lived in your holopad, and it wasn’t going to make its way into your calm morning.

The calm was interrupted when the door to your apartment flew open, and your mother seemed to glide inside, letting the door close behind her. Her eyes scanned the apartment until they found you, and you couldn’t decide if she was angry at you or not. At the sight of you, your mother sighed—even in her apparent disappointment, which you wouldn’t pretend not to know the cause of, your mother had a regal stance worthy of the senator of Coruscant, with her dark beige suit and her expertly done hair; even her floral scent that commanded respect.

You tried to be as nonchalant as possible, gesturing at the coffee brewer with your hand and raising your eyebrows. Your mother sighed again and shook her head, and instead, she gestured with her chin at the holopad that rested on your counter.

“Have you opened that thing this morning?” She asked you.

“Yes,” you uttered.

“Darling, what were you thinking?” Your mother now seemed more worried than angry at you. “Do you at least know this man well enough?”

“Well enough to know I’m head over heels for him,” you admitted.

“And then there’s that ridiculous gossip site,” your mom continued. “I tell myself it’s no big deal, just a little source of entertainment for spoiled rich teens with nothing better to do, but I can’t fathom the fact that now they’re picking on you. I’m too nervous to read any of the posts or the comments thinking about all the horribly unkind things everyone’s sharing about you… people can be so cruel.”

You sighed. “I know, but, Mom… as far as I’ve checked, the things Scandal Gal and the readers are saying aren’t that bad…”

“Meaning?” She inquired.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “They love him. They’re saying he’s devastatingly handsome and fawning over him, some of them even want to go stand outside the clone bar to see if they can get boyfriends.”

“But what are they saying about you?” She asked.

“I’m a hero. They like my dress, the scarf I wore, and the man I’m with. I think there’s an ongoing wager as to whether or not I’ll marry him,” you delivered blankly.

Your mother’s eyes widened, and you held in your laughter at her reaction.

“Mom, relax,” you said. “I’m not saying I will. But I do really like him. And all things considered, I expected mayhem, and even if there are a few mean things here and there, they don’t compare to how good most of the responses are.”

“That’s rare,” your mother admitted. “And I suppose you’re right, you can’t control what everyone says.”

“And I won’t try to,” you agreed. “I’m just saying it could be a lot worse and if it’s not as bad as I thought it could be, I’m gonna embrace it.”

For a split second, your mother looked at you in plain disbelief. Regardless, she sighed, straightened her back, and gathered herself, and she met your gaze again with understanding.

“Alright, now tell me, who is this man?” She asked.

“He’s the sniper who took out the assassin who tried to kill the Chancellor,” you said as you poured your cup of coffee.

Your mom raised her eyebrows. “Oh.”

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows too, pouring another cup for your mother.

“I met him at the start of the opera,” she explained. “I even invited him to our box, but he said he already had one, he didn’t want to refuse it and seem rude.”

“Yeah, he was invited because of his efforts,” you said. “In fact, I… I met him during the final intermission at the opera. We got to talking and he’s just… fascinating.”

Those were all the details you’d give to your mother about that night.

Your mother’s demeanor seemed to soften as she drank from the coffee you’d given her. With a soft exhale, she set the cup down on the counter and pressed her hands together in front of her chest, avoiding your gaze for a few moments.

“Sweetie, I don’t want you to think I’m exploiting your relationship with this man,” she began.

You tilted your head. That was one of the last things you’d expected her to say.

She then met your gaze. “But this is actually a very good look.”

“What, for you?” You asked.

Your mother chuckled. “I have spent months collaborating with Senator Chuchi to pass a clone rights bill. When your… boyfriend…”

You chuckled. “Crosshair.”

She nodded slowly. “Right. When Crosshair saved the Chancellor’s life, we got a lot more support, but we’re not quite there yet. Too many people view the clones as vessels bred for combat, not as actual human beings with human emotions and human needs. And, as triumphant as Crosshair was in saving the Chancellor, his effort was still that of a soldier, hence why we’re, as I said…”

“Not quite there yet,” you continued. “And… you think that if I’m public with him, so public that people are talking about relationships and gossiping like they do with anyone else in our society, he’ll look more human.”

“And by extension, the rest of the clones,” your mother added. “It just might shift the tide in favor of finally giving them some more rights.”

You smiled softly and took another ship of your coffee. “I love the sound of that. I just don’t know how I feel about scheming regarding Crosshair.”

“Be honest with him, then,” your mother suggested. “If you’re not on board, be as private as you possibly can, I won’t hold it against you. It was just an idea. And now that I think about it…”

You looked up at her again, waiting for what else she had to say.

“We do have that art gala coming up tonight,” she suggested. “Why don’t you invite him?”

You nodded slowly. “I’ll ask him. I wouldn’t mind getting all fancy and seeing him, but for starters, he needs to want to go.”

“He went to the opera, didn’t he?”

“Well, yes, but that was an invitation of honor,” you answered. “And he didn’t seem like a fish out of water, but I can’t help thinking this just isn’t what he’s used to.”

Your mother gazed at you sincerely. “Don’t you cage him into the label of a soldier, too. If you like this man and you want to be with him, you’re going to have to realize he’s more than that.”

You raised both of your brows. You knew she was right, and to have heard that coming from your mother, it meant volumes. You barely ever approached what she did inside the senate, but you pondered on how much her words made sense based on what little she’d shared with you about her efforts with the Pantoran senator. And even if she wasn’t trying to pass a clone rights bill, she was still right—Crosshair was a living, breathing man, and even though you knew he was a soldier, you hadn’t met him as such. You’d seen him at a high society gathering over drinks. You’d shared coffee and bantered with him, kissed him under the rain, made love to him time and time again until you couldn’t get him out of your thoughts.

As soon as your mother left, you reached for your holopad and ignored the multiple notifications you had, heading straight for Crosshair’s frequency number and typing out your message at least three times before sending it, trying to find the most chill way to invite him to the art gala. You sent the message and waited for the reply, frantically scurrying to your holopad anytime it vibrated. For a while, he didn’t answer, and before you lost hope, you finally saw the notifications coming in from Crosshair.

Can’t resist another little encounter with me, can’t you, Sweetie?

You chuckled, but you felt nervous at the same time. That obviously meant he’d been, in some way, exposed to Scandal Gal too.

How fancy do I have to dress? His next message came in shortly after.

You chuckled at your phone and typed back: Fancy enough to knock everyone dead.

Instantly, Crosshair replied: ’Kay. I’ll be there.

After you texted him all the details of the event, you went about your day with a twinge of excitement sprinkled over your every move. The sun made its way around the sky until it was time for you to get ready for the event, and for this occasion, you chose a dark purple dress paired with long black gloves and no necklace, since you’d be wearing your hair down your shoulders. The dress’s top had a black ribbon outlined in the shape of a triangle, with the base at your waist, and it was filled with discreet black sequins. On the right shoulder, where the dress’s top met your sleeve, you placed a dark gray brooch that your mother had given you on your eighteenth birthday, and looking at yourself in the mirror, you were almost ready to go. You did your makeup and grabbed your purse, and then you went out the door to the nightlife of Coruscant, where your mother was already waiting at the bottom of the building with a vehicle.

Your pulse was racing for the whole ride, knowing you would meet Crosshair there. You clutched your purse with both hands over your pressed thighs, and you could feel beads of sweat forming in your palms, having to take deep breaths from time to time to keep yourself steady. The vehicle finally arrived at the gala and parked just in front of the red carpet you were meant to walk on, and only then it dawned on you that multiple pairs of eyes thirsting for scandal would be on you. But you wouldn’t back out, not now, not when you were the very image of elegance in society about to meet with your Silver Fox Dream, as Scandal Gal had put it.

You resolved to knock them all dead too.

The door on your side of the vehicle was opened by an usher, and you stepped out, straightening your posture and taking in the scenery of flashing cameras and excited partygoers, and confident as you looked, your heartbeat hadn’t calmed down in the slightest. You looked around, scanning for the only person you were interested in seeing.

And soon enough, your eyes landed on him. His attire was possibly better than the one he wore the night of the opera, with a slim fit pitch-black suit and shirt, adorned with a burgundy vest under the coat, and rich red rose in his breast pocket. Crosshair’s watchful eyes gazed back at you, and as you remained still in front of your vehicle while your mother got out, Crosshair made his way to you, letting you behold every detail on him as he got closer to you, and when he was finally right in front of you, you took in all of him.

Crosshair was strikingly debonair, undeniably gorgeous, charming in his pride and confidence. He even smelled incredible. His tall figure seemed to loom protectively over you, complimenting your lack of height when you stood next to him, and you both made such a perfect pair you almost hoped that gossiping teenage girls were in proximity to behold your beauty, perhaps even eat their hearts out as a treat for you.

“Miss,” Crosshair greeted as he took your hand and brought it up to his lips, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

His gentle kiss ignited every inch of your skin as you briefly remembered the moments of passion you’d already shared with that man. You gave him a demure smile, taking one step closer to him, wishing with every fiber of your body to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss not unlike the one you’d had under the rain the day before, but perhaps it wasn’t the time or place for such a public display. Moreover, as Crosshair was lowering your hand down from his gesture, your mother exited the vehicle and appeared at your side, smiling at Crosshair.

He acknowledged her and gave her the hint of a smile, taking a slight bow. “Ma’am.”

He held out his hand, offering her the chance to be greeted in a similar way as you, and to your surprise, your mother obliged.

“It’s wonderful to see you again,” your mother said to him. “I didn’t know you’d met my daughter until this morning.”

“She’s a wonderful lady, ma’am,” Crosshair responded without a hint of hesitation or insecurity.

You were in awe at how easily he was getting along with your mother as the two continued to make small conversation, and soon enough, your mom went ahead and entered the building, with you and Crosshair following behind, your arm linked in his. Camera flashes on you weren’t scarce, and in the distance, you could hear high-pitched cries of “There they are!” and “They’re so hot together!”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at yourself.

“Basking in your triumph?” Crosshair broke the silence between you.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“That was a bold move, inviting me here, introducing me to your mother,” he continued, his features holding the sternness they usually did, but you picked up on no disgust on his behalf.

“Yeah, well…” You said. “Overnight, we kind of became public figures, you and me. There’s this gossip site that’s been following me around for a while, nothing major, but when you and I started talking at the opera, we got popular.”

“Ah, Scandal Gal,” Crosshair mused. “Yes, I was approached and stalked by a teen.”

You nearly snorted trying to hold in your laughter. “What?”

“The picture of me that’s on that site was taken by a sixteen-year-old girl,” Crosshair said, smirking. “Somehow, I’m more afraid of gossip-hungry teens than I am of tactical droids.”

You chuckled. “They’re formidable, alright.”

“So… you’re feeding them what they want by bringing me here?” He continued the conversation.

“No, not exactly,” you replied. “That’s a side effect. Because of Scandal Gal, my mom rushed over to my place this morning panicking a little, but I explained to her that… well…”

You and Crosshair had just reached the bar of the opulent salon where the gala was being held, and you both took a seat on your respective stools. Crosshair eyed you with intrigue as you trailed off, prompting you to speak up, and you realized why you’d stopped yourself from saying what you wanted to say.

But this was Crosshair. He was a dream incarnate, and you were already there with him, a striking and attractive couple that commanded everyone’s attention, and you found yourself smiling at him as your pulse rose once more.

“That I… I feel a lot for you,” you said. “That I really like you, Crosshair, and this isn’t a meaningless fling for the sake of shock value to me.”

Crosshair maintained eye contact with you, and his features softened ever so slightly, so discreetly that an untrained eye wouldn’t have been able to notice. He broke eye contact with you to gesture at the bartender and order drinks for both of you, and then he turned back to you, with his lips curving to a smirk.

“Well, well,” he hummed. “How touching.”

It was good that he didn’t appear repulsive at your sentiments, but your poor, racing heart would need a more precise answer. Then, Crosshair’s smirk widened, and he looked down at his knees, letting his inner softness glow through if only for a moment.

“It’s not meaningless for me either,” he replied.

You smiled brightly and exhaled the tension from your chest. “Really?”

“Really,” he answered.

“Then… there’s something else you should know,” you said.

And you then explained how your mother wouldn’t use you both, but that you were supporting her cause in the senate, how him being exposed to something other than the front lines would put clones in a more human light, at least to the members of the senate who were still on the fence. You even gave Crosshair the opportunity to back out immediately if he felt like his strings were being pulled, but all the while, Crosshair remained with that serene smile at you, and when you were done talking, Crosshair reached for your hands and held them in his.

“Does this bill mean I’ll get paid more?” He asked.

You laughed openly, and he chuckled in return just as the drinks he’d ordered were placed beside you by the bartender.

“Sweetie,” he said to you. “I don’t care much about the other things. Not Scandal Gal, not the Senate, although that bill sounds decent. I came here to be with you because I can’t get you out of my brain. You’re not what I pictured a high-society woman to be, and… well…”

You smiled softly at him, and now it was your turn to prompt him to speak.

“Now that you’ve introduced me to your mother,” he said, “I hope I get the chance to introduce you to my brothers too.”

Your smile widened. “You’d do that?”

He nodded, smiling softly at you. “You’re a smart girl, you can handle it.”

You laughed and reached for your drink, an Urban Flora cocktail that could have been an exact replica of the one you drank when you first met Crosshair at the opera. You took a sip of it without breaking eye contact with Crosshair, and when you lowered your drink, you raised a brow at him.

“But can you handle the Coruscant high societal scene?” You asked.

Crosshair took a sip of his own drink, the smoky, rich Corellian whisky he loved so much, and he leaned in closer to you, close enough for you to smell the smooth, luscious drink on his breath.

“Try me, Sweetie,” he purred.

You giggled, and you both gently bumped your glasses together, and you went on to continue talking about whatever sparked your interest as you finished your drinks. Crosshair told you about his missions, his brothers, even a couple of anecdotes of when he was a young cadet. In turn, you told him about your days as a schoolgirl, your plans for the future, what you liked to do in your spare time, the planets you longed to visit all over the galaxy. And then, when the glasses were empty and the conversation was fulfilled, you and Crosshair stood up from the bar and went around the room, and you greeted most of your friends and acquaintances as well as introduced Crosshair to all of them. Crosshair was a flying success with everyone, and you couldn’t help but gawk at him just a little. The night wore on as smoothly as velvet, until it was getting late, and you were bound to return home.

You directed a look at Crosshair, a look that was filled with allure, and he reciprocated. Quick goodbyes were said, and soon, you were sitting with Crosshair at the back of your vehicle as the chauffeur flew you home. As you sat together, you were in silence, and though Crosshair was great with words, you’d learned he was far better with his actions, and he reached for the rose on his breast pocket and handed it to you. You smiled at him, slightly flustered, and for the remainder of the ride, you scooched closer to him and leaned your weight on him, eager to arrive at the privacy of your apartment.

You had no intention of waiting. After you and Crosshair had left the vehicle, the moment the elevator doors closed behind you, you were both on each other. Your hands ran all over his back as you both locked lips, hungrily devouring each other in that small space, and you then let your palms rest on his chest. Crosshair took each of your hands and tugged gently at your middle fingertips, enough to hold onto the gloves you wore as you slid your hands down and the delicate fabric came off, exposing your skin. You heard Crosshair shudder softly before he took you into his arms again, kissing you as passionately as before, and you both felt the elevator pulling to a stop.

You gathered yourselves—there was no need to surprise someone waiting for the elevator with a steamy scene—but when you found there was no one there to see you, you and Crosshair held hands as you made your way over to your penthouse, and the moment the door closed behind you both, you were on each other’s lips once more. Your wandering hands removed his coat and his vest, and he found the zipper at the back of your dress. He lowered the zipper, causing the dress’s blouse to fall limply around your silhouette, and you took a step back, wanting him to watch as you wiggled out of the dress and let the fabric fall gracefully on the floor, leaving you to step out of it.

Crosshair eyed you hungrily as you approached him. Your breasts hung freely at your front, and he didn’t miss the hickey he’d left on your ribs the day before. On your hips, there was a pair of lace black panties, but the top prize was easily taken by the stockings that covered you from the middle of your thighs to your toes, which he couldn’t make himself tear his gaze from. You chuckled and took his hands, leading him slowly into your bedroom, and he followed you blissfully until you were at the foot of your bed.

You let go of him and sat back all the way to your headboard. You pressed your legs together and slowly slid your panties away from you, tossing them aside, and you spread your legs to show him, never once breaking eye contact with him. Your gaze was alluring, slightly teasing, and Crosshair watched. He watched as you spread your legs and took your hand to your inner thigh, teasing your skin, until your fingers finally brushed fully over your folds and your clit. You let out a playful gasp, smirking at him and taunting him, and as he watched, Crosshair began to undress. Your smirk widened, and you continued to touch yourself in the way you most liked, delighted by the sight of him losing the clothes that covered him. Your cunt was wet and swollen, pulsating and sensitive, all you needed to do was increase your pace ever so slightly and you’d tip yourself over the edge—as Crosshair crawled onto the mattress, you decided to give him the full show. Making sure his eyes were still on you, you applied more pressure onto your clit and used your three middle fingers to rub, and looking into his eyes, you finally got to enjoy the waves of your orgasm.

You reveled in how hungry Crosshair looked, pleased and aroused by the little show you put on for him. Crosshair couldn’t help but take his hand over to his cock, pumping slowly as he watched you pleasing yourself, until your orgasm faded, and your moans quieted when you removed your hand. You found Crosshair’s gaze and pouted at him, holding your hand in front of you and curling your finger, beckoning him to come to you. With a smirk, Crosshair obliged, and he positioned himself between your legs, planting soft kisses around your inner thighs before brushing his tongue lusciously over your folds. He moaned into your skin, and you whimpered in return, dazed and sensitive after your antics.

As Crosshair continued to please you with his skilled tongue and lips, you suddenly felt his fingers finding yours. You spread your hand before interlacing your fingers with his, holding him as he brought you closer to another release. Your body squirmed harder than it had the first time around, the white-hot ecstasy seeming to explode within every fiber of your body. You didn’t hold back with your moaning, letting his name escape you many a time, enticed by the velvety texture of his tongue contrasting with the raspiness surrounding his jawline.

When Crosshair emerged from between your legs, you tugged on him, prompting him to rest at your eye level. You wanted to feel him close to you, and Crosshair knew what it was you desired. With your legs still spread, you rested back and let him take the lead, feeling as he slowly inserted himself within your tight, warm walls. You both moaned in unison and stared deeply into each other’s eyes as he began his thrusts slowly, luxuriously letting you feel everything. Your lips begged for his, and you perked your face up to kiss him as you felt your body gently bouncing on the mattress in his rhythm. Crosshair’s kisses made you float higher and higher, and drenched in pleasure and ecstasy, you felt like you were in paradise. Crosshair was truly capable of taking you there.

Crosshair paused his kisses on your lips and lifted himself to look at you, his gaze stern and seductive as he increased the snapping of his hips. He grunted as he hammered into you, shuddering and twitching inside you in anticipation, soon unable to contain soft groans and whimpers. Crosshair looked straight into your eyes, flooded by adoration of you, until the pleasure was too much for him to keep his eyes open even as much as he wanted to gaze into you. His eyes shut and the rhythm of his hips became unfathomably fast, and so too, you descended into bliss for the third time that night. You smiled amidst your orgasm, chiming his name in a delicious moan, your hand still securely holding his as he released inside you and fell limp on the mattress beside you afterwards.

You both panted, each your own dazed and flustered mess as you made futile attempts to recover, but as much as you were both unable to do much else, you remained holding each other’s hands. As time passed, you soon felt Crosshair’s thumb brushing delicately up and down your finger, and you watched him with a tender gaze. You felt you’d fall asleep right there, and if you did, you knew you would want for nothing. You knew you’d have nothing to worry about for as long as you were together, and the pain of temporary separations would be worth it if it was Crosshair you would wait for.

And there on your mattress, filled with love, resolve, and exhaustion, you drifted off into sleep.

A gentle sunlight and the song of birds woke you up. You noticed the space beside your bed was empty, and you didn’t waste time getting up and placing your robe over you as you sought out your lover. You walked over to the living room and your attention was drawn to the balcony, where he stood with his back turned on you, shirtless and wearing his pants from the night before, gazing out at the scenery.

You took a moment to admire him and the way his skin appeared golden under the morning sun, contrasting almost artistically with the green plants on your balcony, the blue sky, and the skyline ahead. With soft steps, you approached him and stepped out onto the balcony, and you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder blade. Crosshair delicately shuffled and brought your figure next to him, draping his arm around you, and you both stood in silence for a few peaceful moments, watching the scenery.

“What are you watching?” You asked him, knowing it was in his nature to observe.

His amber eyes scanned the scenery, and he almost looked humbled. He had the face of an innocent life being beholding the universe ahead of them, realizing how small they truly were in comparison to the greatness of creation itself.

“Out there, as soldiers,” Crosshair began, “it often feels like we fight because it’s all we know. We were made for it. Myself, my brothers, more obviously bred for different purposes, all to serve one war. But aside from why we were created, we never really stop to think what we’re fighting for.”

You looked up at him, watching his features soften in realization as he spoke. Crosshair then angled his body more towards you, and he held you tighter, pressing you to the warmth of his skin, watching you with the most tender gaze you had ever felt on you.

“I won’t forget this next time I’m on the battlefield,” he continued.

“You mean, Coruscant?” You asked. “The Republic, these people, this skyline… peace?”

He smiled. “I mean you.”

You smiled at him, devoted.

Crosshair chuckled. “All of that, too, but, mostly you.”

“Oh, Crosshair,” you wrapped your arms around him and perked on your toes, requesting a kiss.

Crosshair obliged and kissed you gently, almost carefully, feeling as the sunshine draped over his skin. He wished he could remain there longer, but he had a duty, a duty that had brought him to you, and a duty that he had to fulfill in order to one day be with you more properly. He knew that, with you on Coruscant waiting for him, he’d always have a reason to return, and a reason to keep fighting. He’d never thought of a life besides being a soldier, but if you were in it, it couldn’t be so bad.

And out there, on that balcony, Crosshair held you close to him until the very last moment he could spare with you, until he had to leave again to be a soldier, always with the promise of returning to you.

*

This just in: Sweetie and Sniper Man are still together and far more public now that I and my loyal sources have done our job ;) I do think we have a power couple in our midst, and the next time these two show up at a fancy event dressed to impress, you’ll hear about it from none other than yours truly. I certainly wish the happy couple all the best, and my challenge towards Sniper Man to bring forth more eligible men from the fine and respectable GAR still stands. Help us gals out, Sniper Man, we all love you so much, and we can’t let Sweetie keep all the spoils!

Yours truly!

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[corellianhounds]

top 5 headcanons? Your own or just faves!

GREAT question so these are just the ones off the top of my head:

1. This headcanon for Mando teaching the kid sign language, and the kid communicating back

2. Not something I came up with, but I like the idea of Luke having permanent Force-lightning scars as a result of Palpatine using it on him in RotJ

3. Personal headcanon: I think Han Solo would have taken Leia’s last name when they got married: Han (at least in the movies) had no family ties to the name ‘Solo,’ it was the name the Imperial officer gave him when he enlisted in the military to escape Corellia. It’s the perfect description for a smuggler on his own who only thinks of himself and his ship (though eventually Chewie becomes a part of The Only Things Han Solo Cares About).

The most important thing about Han Solo’s character that I think many audiences and even official creators (INCLUDING GEORGE LUCAS SOMEHOW) seem to forget is that Han’s whole character arc is that he was NOT a good guy— He BECOMES a good guy. All of the tension surrounding him in the original trilogy is based on the fact Han Solo looks out for himself. His return at the end of A New Hope is predicated on the audience being surprised that he came back.

Each movie, there was no guarantee that he would stay or stick around when the going got tough. By the end of the trilogy, Han’s character arc has ended with him choosing to be a part of something bigger and caring for people beyond himself and beyond his circle of friends. Choosing to marry Leia means choosing to remain relatively sedentary and present for her (and by extension their family, friends, and the New Republic), and besides, what better way to throw people off the scent and protect yourself from your criminal past than by marrying into the royal and political-leading family?

TLDR: Han takes Leia’s last name after they’re married because he finally has a family he chooses to tie himself to.

4. Personal headcanon: Leia does not forgive Vader for what he became, regardless of whether Luke says he redeemed himself in the end.

Leia not only saw the war he led and the atrocities he committed her entire life, he enabled/directed the destruction of her entire home planet before her very eyes. Leia loves her brother, but she cannot reconcile what Luke says about Vader being a good person with the war criminal she knew him to be.

Bonus headcanon: I think in the sequel trilogy Leia should have been the one to see a vision of her son’s future and she should have been either the catalyst for Ben Solo leaving, or she should have been the one who said she saw too much of Vader in him as an adult and he had to be killed in order to be defeated, while Luke and Han should have been the ones trying to bring him back. Luke’s character in the original trilogy was defined by compassion and mercy even towards one of the worst people the galaxy had to offer, and Han’s character was defined by the people who didn’t give up on him and whose encouragement and support and willingness to see the good in him were the reasons he was able to become a good person.

5. Personal headcanon: I’ve had the idea since 2020 that Mando’s family on Aq Vetina were part of the Disciples of the Whills. I’ve liked the idea of Mando being connected in a non-Force-sensitive way to other lore surrounding the Force, and I’ve based it on the similarities in costume design and because I think thematically, the idea of exploring the Force through a different lens than the Jedi would have made a much more interesting and compelling story in what was originally a relatively independent TV show with new characters on a much smaller scale, exploring different parts of the galaxy.

How I understand the doctrine of the Whills is that it’s more trying to understand the direction of the Force as it tries to find balance in the world, and the result of those teachings means seeing how the Force working in others is what benefits people— In Rogue One Chirrut says “May the Force of others be with you,” which I’ve interpreted as “Yes the Force exists and has an impact on life and death, but because it is the connection binding every living thing together, it’s our choices and the actions we take and the connections we form that exhibit the Force, which are what will ultimately save us in the end.” Chirrut says “The Force protected me,” and Baze Malbus says “I protected you,” and they are both right.

In the context of The Mandalorian, I wanted to see what could have happened if the show diverged from the Jedi, who to be clear were a specific order of Force sensitive followers whose primary purpose was as protectors of the galaxy— The Jedi teachings weren’t just a belief system, they were combined with a martial art and specific learned abilities that were intended to be used to protect people. That doesn’t mean their way was the only way Force-sensitives interacted with the Force.

Long story short, I wanted Mando’s potential ties to a different part of Star Wars lore to be the gateway to exploring more of the galaxy that these stories were set in. I think it would have been a lot more interesting and would have freed up the story to go whatever direction it needed without being confined to the Jedi and prior source material

[burnwater13]

Fennec Shand and Boba Fett in the throne room of the Daimyo's palace near Mos Espa, on Tatooine addressing the Majordomo. (Mok Shaiz's Majordomo out of frame). Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 1, Stranger in a Strange Land. Calendar by DataWorks.

Grogu knew it didn’t seem likely. It was strange. He accepted that. Fennec Shand was his friend and he really liked her. She was sassy, strong, and an expert at a lot of things. She wasn’t afraid of his dad and she wasn’t actually afraid of the Daimyo either. That was impressive. Almost everywhere he went with his dad, people were afraid of Mandalorians to the extent of crossing the street, darting indoors, or simply turning around and walking away. It was impressive, if a little bit dramatic. 

If they should worry about anyone, they should worry about Fennec. She had excellent aim with any weapon you tossed her way, she could run down a fathier, and she could disappear at the click of a blaster activating. Then, much like Peli Motto, she seemed to know everyone and every little, itty, bitty, bit of gossip traded anywhere on Tatooine. That was impressive all by itself.

Of course he didn’t tell his dad about how he felt toward Fennec. Being her friend. He didn’t want Din Djarin to get jealous. The Mandalorian handled it poorly at best. Like the time he gave Peli a kiss on the cheek because she had the pit droids make him one of his favorite meals, flash fried gorg on a stick. Din had some harsh words for her, but Grogu had thought he shouldn’t have been so touchy about it. The Mandalorian argued that he was asking who told the pit droids they could use the N-1’s engines to do that flash frying (or roasting, technically speaking). How was Peli to supposed to know that she had to get special permission for crying out loud? Or that the engines of the N-1 could actually set the Mandalorian’s cape on fire? Din Djarin was being unfair.

That’s exactly why Grogu didn’t want his dad to get upset over all the projects he and Fennec took on. It he did, Grogu would see less of his friend and he really didn’t want that to happen. Other than his dad, the Daimyo, the Majordomo, Greef Karga, and Peli, Fennec was the only person he knew who told great bedtime stories. They all started, “The last time I was on Coruscant…” or “The last time I was on Corellia…” or “The last time I was on Chandrila…”. He loved that. It set the scene and knew he was going to hear a story about a thrilling chase, with some blaster fire and hand to hand combat, that always ended with Fennec collecting, protecting, or silencing, whoever had been on her list of problems to take care of. She was a great problem solver. And once the story was underway, she didn’t stop telling it until it was done. Not like his dad who would let him fall asleep half way through. If Grogu fell asleep, Fennec would tickle his feet and keep telling the story. She said she could leave a task of any sort half done.

That was part of the reason Grogu liked to hang out with her. He wanted to learn how to solve problems in different ways to make sure they weren’t left half done. Even now, he worried that Moff Gideon wasn’t really gone. The person who burned up on Mandalore was probably a clone. Sad for the clone certainly, but good for Moff Gideon mark one. Dank Farrik!

Now, with Fennec teaching him how to make sure that anything he started was completed, if he ever ended up crossing paths with any version of Moff Gideon, he’d be able to find and implement a method to permanently shut him down. Grogu couldn’t imagine that any version of the Moff would be kinder, gentler, and more thoughtful and considerate than the original and the original was bereft of all of those qualities. Jedi weren’t supposed to be vengeful, but Grogu was willing to make an exception for certain people. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Which was another thing that he appreciated about Fennec. She was very quick at discerning what was right and what was wrong. She didn’t slow herself down by ponding the moral or ethical implications of the work she undertook. If she didn’t think it was worth the risk or thought that the reward wasn’t rewarding enough, she just didn’t do it. You’d never find her cleaning out the rancor’s enclosure. Nope. Not her. 

His dad on the other hand, could be compelled to do some of the worst work just because the Creed demanded it, honor demanded it, or he’d made a promise to someone at some nebulous point in the distant past. That had gotten them both into a fair amount of trouble. Just look at what happened when the Mandalorian decided to prove to Bo-Katan and Armorer that Mandalore could still support life! It was a nightmare! You wouldn’t find Fennec getting caught up in stuff like that. Nope. Grogu respected that because he wished he could use that same technique to avoid cleaning his room. 

Grogu sighed and made his way to the throne room. He wanted to see what lesson he could learn from her.

“…he’d have fed you to his menagerie.”

Fennec’s words didn’t sound nice, but she delivered them in a strangely matter of fact manner that made the person standing in front of her begin to sweat.

“I promise you Administrator, I will send fresh frogs right over. I had no idea that freshness was a key quality for rancor feed.”

“I don’t feed them to a rancor. As if you would be that lucky. They are fed to a powerful Jedi and he likes them fresh.”

“Of course, of course, of course.” The person bowed as they spoke and when they reached the threshold of the room, they turned and ran out of the room as fast as they could.

Fennec turned from her perch on the Daimyo’s throne and smiled at Grogu.

“The things I do to keep you and the Daimyo happy, kid. Be glad that he likes you.”

Grogu returned her smile. He was glad that they both liked him, but perhaps he was a little, teeny, tiny bit more glad that Fennec liked him. Perhaps.  

[sinisterexaggerator]

Beauty and the Bounty Hunter

Chapter 4: The Hunt

Part 5 >>

(Cad Bane x Fem! Reader/OC)

Fic summary: You are Aurora Ordel: the pinnacle of femininity gone wrong. Smart, sexy, but with a sassy mouth. Hailing from Corellia, you live on Coruscant at your career’s behest. You are a “Chief Design Engineer” for The Galactic Empire; inventor of the Onager-Class Star Destroyer - this super weapon is your pride and joy.

Your employer is Palpatine; you answer to Darth Vader; and Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin is always barking up your skirt.

You are also beauty who has met with beast – a surly, ill-tempered bounty hunter who you like to swap spit with. Your problem? - Everyone’s out to kill you for being such a kriffing witch, and on top of that, you’re addicted to that Duros dick. Your solution? – Make Cad Bane your ( on call ) bitch.

*This is a second person POV (reader) fic / OC fic. It's both. I forgo physical descriptions at much as possible, though yes, you/she has a name, and a personality. If that is not your cup of tea, that is fine, but as the story stands it will remain this way. I still have fun writing it. If it pisses you off, oh well I guess. DN read.

This chapter: Our dear reader has found herself in trouble. Cad Bane is quite fed-up with her! Will he bother to come to her assistance, and if so, under what pretense?

Warnings: 18+ for dirty humor, death, murder, reference to fertile cycles and alien biology aka horny old man Bane headcanon, exploding heads, allusions to physical abuse, mention of sexual assault (no penetration), misogynistic/gross men, emotional trauma / other heavy shit, but don't worry. Cad Bane saves you.

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: No smut this time. Sorry / not sorry about that, but the story is definitely progressing in that direction for chapter 5! I apologize for the long delay. Hopefully this chapter will still be entertaining!

BATBH: Masterpost

You are Aurora Ordel and you have found yourself in trouble. Your hired gun had been callous towards you and for good reason. You had annoyed him to the point money did not matter. He was through with you, and you were being held for ransom.

You had lost track of time though hours felt like days. Your kidnappers hadn’t fed you though they were kind enough to let you drink for without water you would die. It wouldn’t do them any good if you were dead – not yet.

Little did they know the Empire did not take kindly to this sort of thing. Perhaps your life was not worth the credits that they required for your release. You had your doubts having heard their plans, even if you were an infamous, “evil” scientist.

This gang of thugs - of miscreants - had claimed to of seen you on the HoloNewsThey assumed you were someone of esteem and influence, and perhaps you were. Just days ago you had the Emperor himself eating from your palm, but only because of your invention. You were unsure that he would bother to send anyone to gain your freedom.

After two days your assailants were growing bored. You wore a blindfold. You had no idea what they looked like or their species, though some of them had claws as they had fondled and caressed your body.

You had choked back tears against your gag. They claimed to love the soft flesh of a human. Their words came out as a hiss. You thought maybe they were Trandoshan or perhaps more Duros.

That thought led you to more unsavory ones - the very thing you did to displease the hunter – that kriffing bet. Your desire for him had overpowered your sense of reason. You were normally so smart yet this blue man caused you to act stupid.

It’s like your brain turned off around him. No man, no alien had ever had that effect on you before. It was unnerving, yet your libido grew and grew to the point you could lose all control. It was no doubt curious though you chose to act instead of question it.

Just thinking about Cad Bane had you sopping wet even as you were bound in binders and blind to your surroundings. You cursed yourself behind your gag though the scent of your arousal had alerted your greedy captors. Whatever was their ilk, they could tell.

“Sssssshe likesssss it. What a ssssssslut,” one of the Trandoshans said. You nearly screamed as his forked tongue flitted against your ear. You kicked your legs though your ankles were bound. One of his large hands easily held them down.

“We got ourssssselvvvvesssss a braaaaaat,” the reptilian creature hissed. There was raucous laughter followed by the overwhelming feeling of being helpless.

You held back tears for they wouldn’t do you any good. Your mind drifted to that damn Duros. He wished you had never slighted him. The only thing that made you finally cry was that he had never fucked you proper.

---

Cad Bane was on the hunt. Your scent had been overpowered, outnumbered by the odors of your adversaries. They had purposely split up, going two separate ways. Perhaps they knew who they were dealing with when they saw the company you kept.

Bane was aware it was in his best interest to leave it be, yet you had paid him quite a hefty sum. Maybe he felt a sense of duty though he had convinced himself to swear you off. It still felt … wrong, seeing as how you couldn’t even see, and that part had been his fault, no matter that you quite deserved what you had got.

Ultimately, if he hadn’t ejaculated on your glasses you wouldn’t be in this mess.

The hunter sighed, running a hand over his long face as he shook his head. He shouldn’t have let your attitude get the best of him. To lose his cool was unprofessional, no matter if he had been balls deep in your pretty cunt, as that was less than professional as well, but he would have to admit he had enjoyed it when in fact his testes resided inside himself.

He hadn’t… finished; he hadn’t let you finish. To die without the satisfaction of an orgasm was a cruel and unjust punishment, especially as your desire for him was downright palpable.

His ego was somewhat elevated despite the events that had transpired. If he played his cards right you might still be alive. If not, well, he at least could say he tried.

Cad Bane stalked the lower levels, having asked anyone in the nearby vicinity about what it was they’d seen. For the perpetrators to have moved so fast dictated they were not human beings. He had smelled a mix of things. Gotals, which was worrisome, Trandoshan, and a subspecies of their ilk. They were just as ugly, going by the name of Saurin’s who hailed from the planet Durkteel.

They all had claws, sharp teeth, or horns: things that you might be afraid of. Yet, as a scientist, Bane wondered if you were perhaps enjoying it.

Oh, but his thoughts wandered to things that were unpleasant. That prompted him to traverse through the Underworld portal in his ship, deeper down than where the Red Rancor sat.

Level 1313 was so aptly named as it was one-thousand-three-hundred and thirteen levels from the core of Coruscant. This place was vile, often forgotten by those above and disregarded, though Cad Bane had visited this undercity numerous times before.

Information was what he was after on your whereabouts. Tidbits, morsels, or even scraps often proved useful when you followed the right tracks. He left the Justifier in the safekeeping of his droid, then slinked through the crowds as he kept an eye out and one ear open.  

Bane canvassed the filthy streets, using the fear of God he put into people. No one dared to turn him down from the moment he’d made eye contact.

His reputation was a boon though he could not prevent denizens from lying to him. He had learned to gauge a person’s body language, their nuanced movements, and the tone of voice they used to tell if they were playing stupid. Most were too afraid to fib though Bane uncovered nothing of grave importance.

A few individuals in particular he thought suspicious; he collected their names and any identifying features. He used his thorough research skills to rummage down back avenues on the HoloNet, picking and choosing where he was led to next on instinct.

After many dead end leads and unsuccessful stealth laden ventures, Bane decided on a place to rest and kick his feet up but also one full of chumps and gangsters, two-bit crooks, and even bounty hunters. He’d fit right in, to most people’s chagrin - Cad Bane’s presence was at the very least intimidating.

Finally, some punk, some wet nosed kid who knew little-to-nothing about subtlety or keeping secrets just couldn’t stop himself from bragging. A heavy flow of ale meant a heavy flow of intel from his end. Bane would often buy drinks for blatherers; the payout was worth the credits, especially if he was not in the mood to cause a scene.

“They caught themselves an Imp with a real nice rack. Wonder how many war crimes she’s committed.”

“Bitch probably deserves what’s coming to her,” some rando commented.

“Wouldn’t mind being the one to give it,” the stoolie laughed. "Then I'd leave her a present to remember me by - all over those perky tits."

The unwitting snitch had just joined ranks with a no-good band of hoodlums, rivals to the ones called Raptors, and they had the inclination to snatch their current captive to take the reward all for themselves.

Some woman - a smart one, from what he had gathered – she held secrets belonging to the Empire. This kid had seen her dragged inside a warehouse; he had overheard a man with green hair explain the details to someone else - the plans they had for you should no one bother to collect.

Cad Bane thought there was more to it than that. He ground his teeth into his toothpick. Upon threat of death should he waste his time, the squealer shed light on this gang’s hiding spot, advising the bounty hunter on where to start his search afresh.

Then, he broke his neck.

“Dhat’s fer bein’ a disgustin’ bastard,” Bane sneered, though he had mostly committed murder so he did not follow in his footsteps; it would have been a bother should he gain advantage, or get word back to his gang.

However, he could not deny the imbecile was accurate: your rack was nice. He found himself annoyed that he was worried about your safety, red eyes squinting as he glared at nothing in particular until he moved ahead, hoping you weren’t dead yet.

The Duros was forced to enter the Crimson Corridor, the even seedier high-crime district that was positioned some ten kilometers from the former Jedi Temple. It was in the Third Quadrant of the Zi-Kree Sector, and not a place for a lady such as yourself no matter your lack of proper manners.

This region was far from your original location; he wondered if this whole charade was planned ahead or just an opportune arrangement. Considering the many talents you seemed to have he wouldn’t put it past this motley crew to know what you were truly on about.

Cad Bane shook his head again; he could hardly believe a gal like you created superweapons. With such a shapely ass, wide hips, and perfect breasts, it was a wonder you had also been blessed with such a brain to boot, one that housed monolithic blueprints for some of the most dangerous playthings in the galaxy, yet you were worse than all those children he had been paid to wrangle; they knew how to listen. You were a walking contradiction!

You talked back, talked smack, running your mouth from here to the Mid Rim with the obscenest things, and you had the nerve to make that bet!

Oh, you had begged forgiveness. But even if he was irritated with you and had admittedly planned to leave, he could not vindicate forfeiting you to the grimy hands of other men.

This time he had brought Todo with him, the droid trying to point out something Bane would not accept; there had been a rise in his reproductive hormone levels and your presence was simply not helping matters though the droid was positive it could.

Maybe it was a mistake to link his little confidant to his life support; he knew the ins and outs of every facet of Bane’s many somatic systems. Todo was aware If Bane were sick or injured before even he did on occasion, but the price to pay was he had become a hassle. He was always badgering and nagging, telling him when to eat, or sleep, or when to brush his teeth so as to practice good oral hygiene.

He was tempted to end the program but he also loved having the upper hand. Should he need him one day, Todo would be a comm away.

Still, at this very moment, the service droid would not stop talking, elaborating on the intricacies of Durosian biology and fertile cycles, reproductive windows, and the horrors and atrocities of aging. If he did not need him to distract that damn Gotal he had smelled, Todo would have still been sitting pretty in the Justifier and Bane could bask in silence.

“It will only get worse, you know,” the little droid stated matter-of-factly as his master listened, a broad sneer plastered on his blue face from crease-to-crease.

“De only thing gettin’ worse a’round here’s yer jabberin’,” the Duros seethed.

“That is not true. Perhaps you have not noticed as you are not the one experiencing it from an outside perspective, but every three months your mood swings are absolutely terrible,” Todo disagreed.

“Maybe ye’ jus’ piss me off like clockwork,” Bane retorted.

“I highly doubt that.”

“Ah don’ doubt it aht all,” the Duros snickered.

“Think of all the laundry I have to do!”

“Perfect task fer’a butler droid.”

“I am not a butler droid! How many times have we been over this? And it’s not just laundry. It’s worse than that, it’s-

“Ferget dhat,” Bane cut in. He did not want to talk about the aftermath of his lengthy masturbation sessions. “Focus. Keep yer optics open, or dhis is liable t’be'uh skank in a scud pie sit'uation.

“What is it that you think we are doing?” Todo asked deliberately.

“Rescue op,” Bane drawled from around his toothpick.

“Since when do you ever do those?” he asked quite flagrantly.

Bane rumbled a warning at him. “Since when d’ye tolk so dang-blamed much?” He thought it over. “Eval! Got him outta prison. Tch.” He failed to mention Obi-Wan or his hand in the whole affair.

“Did ye’ ferget Zziro?” he asked after the fact. “Rescued ‘im durin’ dhat whole ssenate thing. You weren’t dhere fer dat part, but as ye’ very well know, it happened!” he snapped, exasperated.

“I thought those were more like recovery missions,” the techno-service droid argued back with a tad of sass. “Besides, you said you would never take one of those jobs again! And this one you’re doing for free?”

“Ain’ free! S’paid in ad’vhance, an’ Ah meant werkin’ fer de Hutts!” Cad spat, flicking his chewed up toothpick straight into Todo’s shoulder; it bounced off and landed in a puddle, Todo glancing up at Bane as he hovered above the water on his rocket boosters, shaking his large head with an iota of disapproval.

“In advance of being kidnapped? Why, I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

Cad Bane paused, dredging two fingers against his chin. He rubbed softly as he had a thought: was it possible this had been your plan as well? His brow ridge furrowed. He snorted out a scoff; that would have been ridiculous. Not even you would go that far to get attention.

“Why d’ye think dhere’s bodyguards, laa’serbrain? Ye’ hire ssomebody ‘cause yer either a’fraaid of bein’ kidnapped, or a’fraaid of ssomeone killin’ ye,’” he quipped in agitation.

“So, then you mean to tell me you have failed at your job?” Todo asked with honest curiosity. “Your task was to guard Ms. Ordel, yet she has been kidnapped?” Todo’s body language made him appear aghast. “Oh, this is worse than I thought! Your judgement has been clouded to the point it is affecting-”

Cahn’nit! No more playin’ know-it-all! God only knows how’a know-it-all knows ever’ythin’ exscept how annoyin’ dhey are. Gotta too big mouth fer ye’ too big head. We’re here!” he added. “Now, shut up.”

“If that isn’t the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy,” Todo whispered to himself in reference to the size of his large head. Duros were no better off in that department.

Bane ignited the thrusters on his boots without another word, launching himself heavenward. He bounded from roof to roof until he landed atop a structure in much need of repair, Todo not far behind. There was a viewport that acted as a skylight, Bane peering into the dimly lit storehouse that the boy had pointed out; this place was to be his target, and those who tread within.

For now, the hideout was sparsely populated though there was that infernal Gotal and a rather beefy human male, but what was worse was the Gotal already seemed to be aware of Cad Bane’s proximity; it was time for Todo to perform his single task.

Gotals, as a species, could sense their quarry from up to ten kilometers away; they could track a herd for weeks, determining the amount, game type, and fitness level by relying on their cones alone. When close to targets, they could easily absorb information on its mood and state of mind. As such, they numbered among the most sought-after hunters in the galaxy, which in this instance was not to Cad Bane’s benefit – far from it.

Those… things that Gotal’s had - cranial horns were good receptors -  they could sense electromagnetism and varied energy emissions, including auras from other lifeforms and things as tiny as neutrinos. They were the exact opposite of Duros. Their eyesight and hearing was quite weak and their sense of smell almost completely absent, but that did not reduce their other talents.

Droids, as it were, gave off enough emissions to at least annoy one, but Cad Bane had a sabacc card up his long sleeves: electro-magnets strapped to the inside of Todo’s chassis. They emitted emanations ten times that; it should be more than enough to disorient the sentient.

The Gotal had begun to move around the room as if he were looking for something or someone, the human male keeping close watch even as the horned being warned him that something was off. He used his wrist comm to call for back-up; he wandered toward the locked tight doors. This was Cad Bane’s chance. Perhaps he could avoid a firefight if he could rescue you before any new arrivals.

He took a moment to study your appearance. He could see you clearly from this vantage. You were tied up by the hands around a post, your legs stretched out before you. 

“Bet she’s sittin’ dhere wishin’ she ain’ get under m’scales,” Bane mumbled.

Oh, how right he was.

It had been nearly three whole days. You were wearing the same outfit. Your shoes were gone, and your glasses, too. He cursed himself, noticing you looked like you might have been abused.

There were marks and bruises on your arms; your hair was in a disarray. He was sure you had spent more time crying as there were mascara stains, old ones, running down your face.

Cad Bane gnashed his fangs.

“Todo… cut’a hole in dhis trans’paristeel, dhen get down dhere an’ disstract dhat Gotal once he exits de building,” Bane ordered coldly.

“Right away, Bane!” Todo activated a hidden laser, focusing its beam on the glass before him. He cut a large circular shaped hole before Bane rummaged in his tote, withdrawing two suction cups. He implanted them against the plate; he removed the excess then set it off to the side. It was big enough for the hunter to squeeze through, the little droid giving a salute before he zipped down off the roof.

Cad Bane watched, leery, as his little partner flew off to do his job. He reset his intentions, gazing down into the warehouse.

To his annoyance three more beings had joined the man. Two Trandoshan, and one Bith. He snickered, preparing to make his entrance.

He paused. You had made a noise. Your pathetic whimpering had enticed one of the large reptiles.

“Aww, poor thing. What’ssss the matter?” the largest Trandoshan taunted, “Did you missss me?” he asked nastily.

Cad Bane watched as you kicked your feet and twisted against your bindings. He noted there was a gag inside your mouth to silence your response. He supposed you talked too much, and in that moment he could not blame your captors, even though he was now on edge as the scaled being bent down to caress your inner thigh; his claws teased and tormented you as they disappeared beneath your skirt.

You whined against the cloth stuffed in your mouth. Cad Bane’s green blood set to boiling.

“Todo, where’sss de ugly goat man aht?” he hissed into the comm upon his wrist gauntlet. He was trying hard to keep his cool.

Todo 360 returned the comm, floating with his tiny hands upon his hips. He was quite satisfied with himself, the Gotal on his knees before him. The ache in his head was quite apparent; his actions were ones of pain and anguish as he rolled around upon the ground. He was flustered, flummoxed, and all together worthless, having been thoroughly incapacitated beyond his usefulness.

The service droid’s proud voice rang out, “Currently, he is indisposed. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Keep him pinned, got quesstions. Dhis ain’ all o’dhem.” he said, referring to the Raptor gang.

“Yes, sir!” Todo accepted his orders without question.

You screamed though it was muffled. Cad Bane withdrew one LL-30 BlasTech pistol. He took his time, aimed, and fired. He shot the human dead, then the Trandoshan next. The lizard’s body fell across your lap right before Bane dropped down to the warehouse floor like a graceful Loth-cat.

His duster settled; he rose from bended knee. The other lizard creature lifted his weaponry. Cad revoked it and shot him between the eyes; it had all been simultaneous.

His lariat had extended. It had wrapped around the blaster’s grip. He jerked it from the Trandoshan before he even knew what happened. At the same time that this occurred, Bane lifted his own pistol. It was a fluid movement, the heavy carcass falling upon the floor right by your feet.

That left the Bith; Cad Bane cornered him. He tossed the blaster rifle to violently discard it.

As for you, you had no idea what the hells was happening. You jiggled at your cuffs, chest heaving as you breathed in deeply. You were frantic, wondering if you would be the next one to meet your Maker, or if perhaps your comrades had come for you, but that might not necessarily be good.

For one, you could be branded as a failure. You had not avoided capture. Granted, this had been your employer’s greatest fear, though now your project was in its final stages. Surely you were still of utility, why else had they deigned to hire you?

Your thoughts raced; you suddenly wondered if they would believe anything you had to say. Would Tarkin assume you spilled secrets while in captivity?

Surely he would not! But you could hardly put it past the Moff. You felt if you ever made it out alive Wilhuff might decide to ride you raw.

Thankfully, that was not to be taken literal. For Tarkin to get anywhere near your naughty bits nearly triggered your gag reflex. Besides, you had heard that he was gay. The idea suited you – the mighty Moff with a cock shoved up his ass. You would love to tell him to “sit on it and spin.” Maybe if he got his rocks off he’d lighten up a bit.

Though not to diminish your current state, which was one of fear and panic; you started crying at the awful sounds the Bith was making as Cad bane had withdrawn something from his coat’s deep pockets.

Bane held the Bith around the neck; he dipped down low to sniff him with his olfactory organs. This one smelled like you, too. No one would be getting off the hook.

He felt unusually cruel though you were still blind to the goings on. Cad Bane whispered a few simple words, the other struggling to free himself as you strained to hear what was being said.

“When ye’ get te hell, tell ‘em Cad Bane ssent ye’,” the Duros sizzed.

The voice had not been comprehensible; there was a new sound to distract you. You heard the ticking of a timer, one that was high in pitch. It was meant for the tiny Bith who squirmed and squawked in Cad Bane’s grip, the hunter doing the unthinkable when he shoved it between his odd shaped lips.

Bane ignited his boot’s thrusters. He propelled himself and dove into a darkened corner. Within seconds you heard something terrible and shrill, then felt something warm and wet; for a moment you thought that you’d gone deaf.

Whatever had splashed you was thick and sticky, and on top of everything you still could not see or even speak. You thrashed against your stun-cuffs, not realizing the Bith’s head had just exploded, and now the remnants were all over you.

Their senses were highly acute; Bith could perceive tonal qualities of sound unknowable to others. An interesting side effect was in the use of screamers.

Bane only came out when the coast was clear, but you were livid, kicking and jerking as if he were out to kill you and for all you knew it was the truth.

Cad Bane approached you though you still had no idea he was the culprit. You were sobbing, trying to remove the Trandoshan that had fallen across your legs.

The weight was lifted; someone had dislodged the dead guy, finally. This person lowered and touched your knee as they tried to calm you down, not thinking you might take this as a threat though in hindsight it made sense.

Your leg rose; you would have socked Bane right in the family jewels if he were human. It was a good thing his reproductive organs were internal, or he might have killed you on accident.

He halted any further actions, holding both your legs down with one large hand as he contained a growl, the Duros meaning to comfort you but instead yelling, “Ssimmer down!”

It was fruitless; you couldn’t even hear him. The ringing was still present in your ears though you felt you could register things at a distance. It felt like being in a tunnel while at the same time underwater. Your heartrate increased as the being shifted his position.

You screamed again when he leaned in, right as he removed your gag.

Bane fell backward, nearly losing the hat atop his head. He grimaced, barking out more orders once he had recovered from you yelling in his face. “Calm yer tits, wo’man! Yer safe!”

You seemed inconsolable; all you did was weep. Cad Bane crawled forward on his hands and knees; he reached out timidly to remove your blindfold. He acted like one who might be wary of a hound, not sure if they might bite or attack on sight.

You stifled a gasp though your lips trembled. Your eyes were having a hard time readjusting. The luminescence of the room was dim at best, but you had been in the dark for nearly three whole days. Then, everything was blurry. Your spectacles were missing. You did not expect to get them back, you were well past that.

“Wh-who’s there?” you fearfully called out, your words a broken whisper as you waited for the worst.

A face appeared within your vision; it was much too close to recognize. Your shivering got worse though you managed to screech loudly, “Get the hells away from me!”

Cad Bane complained verbally. “Ye’ wanna know who’s dhere, dhen ye’ want me te let ye’ a’lone. Make up yer mind, brainiac!” he scolded you, half-assed.

All you heard was something about ass though your hearing was finally coming back. That did not stop you from throwing a full on fit. You railed against your bonds, not caring that it hurt you in the process.

“L-let me go!” you beseeched, your voice cracking pathetically. You were ashamed you had broken rank only in that you expected more out of yourself.

Four broad fingers and one thumb nestled in against your cheek. It was cool to the touch but the nerve this person had made you even madder.

“Don’t touch me!” you belted out the moment you perceived a movement of his hand. That had not stopped him so you stated your true feelings. “I’m too young, beautiful, smart, and funny to die,” you claimed brazenly.

A thumb brushed against your lips as the Duros shushed you; you inhaled sharply before you sank your teeth in. You recognized the taste, the smell, then you heard his raspy voice. “Says you. Don’ have’a conniption, it’s just me, girl- Ahh!! Karkin’ harpy!!” he hissed, giving your nose a forceful flick.

Somehow knowing it was Bane only made it worse. You cried full-fledged, feeling so terrible about yourself. To top it off, now you had gone and bit him! You should have kept your mouth shut. You should never have made that bet. Your speech was garbled as you petitioned for forgiveness.

“Inevermeantto-” you expelled in a rush, salty tears streaming down your face. You cried so hard you were beginning to hyperventilate, remembering what Cad Bane had relayed. “Your-your services are no longer required!” you stammered hurriedly.

You continued to pull against the cuffs; you were sure to have bruises on your wrists. Bane cinched his fingers around your forearms; they   were small compared to his wide reach.

“Wait’a tick,” he advised you, having recovered from your nip. “Whaddaye yappin’ a’bout- sstop squirmin’ so damn much,’ yer gonna hurt yerself!” he berated, flustered.

Your breathing was erratic. You felt like you were dying! You could only reiterate what you had said in so many words, “I am no longer your client! I don’t need you! You, you left me- and, I-” you stumbled over your confession. “I deserve it looking the way that I do! It was bound to happen, re-remember?!” you asked as more tears crept down your cheeks.

The hunter felt a pang of guilt. “Hush now, m’lil’ hellcat,” he coaxed you gently, though you were mildly traumatized. The gangsters had not had their total way with you, but they had felt you up and fondled all your attributes.

“What the hell’s all over me?! Please, don’t say cum,” you screeched.

“Brains,” Bane answered casually.

“Brains!?”  It was worse than you imagined.

He did not respond this time. His fingers worked their magic on the cuffs. He quickly set you loose. You took to rocking back and forth, drawing your knees up to your chin. “You-you’ve already been paid!” you shrieked as your voice fractured. “G-go away!” you commanded him.

He called you by your name. “Need’te get ye’ outta dhis snake pit, no reason te make it hard. No lady deserves dhis, naht even you.”

“Yes, I do! I’m terrible, I’m the worst. You said so yourself!” you shot back as he moved to wind his arms around you. You bucked and wriggled, borderline ready to throw a tantrum. You were tired and hungry, cold, wet, and somehow slimy. You felt you must smell awful, but worst of all you were full of pity for yourself and covered in some guy’s grey matter.

For once Bane was being sympathetic, yet you were full of trepidation. You threshed against his hold so much he withdrew a tool he had stashed away inside his lengthy coat: his hypnosis orb.

It mimicked a Jedi mind trick. Bane could calibrate it to be stronger and for the effects to last a little longer. He had the thought to knock you out for a length of time, just until he could get you someplace else. You were partially delirious from lack of food and rest.

He could not blame you for behaving crazy, at least not right this second. He assumed he’d just have to wait a smidge for you to return to normal, whatever normal was. It was all the more reason to lull you into a brief sleep; you would be less annoying.

The hypnogazer actuated. He brought it up to eye-level with you. You blinked at first, confused, until he found your sweet spot; the correct distance from your face that allowed you to make it out.

“Sssshhhh…” Bane shushed you softly. “Jus’ relaaaaxxx, lil’ lady…” he whispered in your ear as your eyes partook of the shiny object that held one hundred percent of your attention. You were enthralled and occupied like an intrigued feline until your mind went numb. It was as if all thought had left you. You were a blank slate to be manipulated. There was nothing you could do.

Cad Bane made a suggestion to you. “Close yer eyesss…” he coerced. You complied, no questions asked.

“Drift off’te sssleeeep. No worriesss…” he crooned as if you were a child who needed soothing. But it worked for you did that, too. You were dead to the whole of Coruscant as the bounty hunter carried you.

He made his way across the warehouse, a mite surprised there was no one left to stage an ambush, assuming now might be the time he least expected it. Any possible assailants would have predicted false, though he was happy to avoid the whole damn mess; he comm called Todo, signaling him to open the blast resistant doors.

“Got’m haands full o’dhis tart, get us out,” he dryly directed his blundering droid.

Cad Bane was lashed in the face by the stench of a rat-infested alley. It smelled putrid, like trash and sewage, the Gotal writhing on the ground before him as he held you firmly in his arms. Todo had obeyed his orders. The horned beast of a man was still duly incapacitated. Bane gingerly maneuvered you so he could turn a dial on his wrist gauntlet. It freed the Gotal from his invisible imprisonment.

“Where’s yer boss?” Cad Bane demanded, brandishing his authority by the positioning of a single finger, threatening to increase the power of the electro-magnets at his disposal at a moment’s notice.

“I don’t know!” the sentient replied, knowing Green Hair would have his hide, but he couldn’t decide what’s worse: that, or the effects of the disabling emissions.

“Wrong an’swer,” the Duros spat, making good on his nonverbal threat. He released a wave of pain, the Gotal twitching at his mercy. His kind was not made for this; he cursed the day he joined this gang. He pleaded with the hunter, not knowing what else to do.

“He’ll kill me!” he whined out.

“An’ ye’ think we’re gonna dance?” Cad Bane inquired of him, “looks like it’s gonna be pickin’ between one an’ fourteen, fer you,” he finished flatly. Todo watched from the periphery, his head roving to and fro between who spoke.

“Can’t be sure,” the Gotal panted, still trying to catch his breath. “He doesn’t tell me anyth-!!” He was interrupted by another rousing dose of horrid broadcasts, Todo just happy to be of use as he stood watch.

“Tusken Oasis!! He – arghhh!! He hangs out there-!!” the being howled.

Cad Bane sneered as he gently set you down. He freed the Gotal once again as he stayed put, gasping on the ground. The Duros bared his teeth as he scooped the Gotal up, having dragged him to his feet by the edges of his shirt’s collar.

He took a whiff; the scent of your natural fragrance lingered on the gangster’s clothing. Bane pretended not to notice, forcing the fur covered man to stand up on his own. Cad tipped his hat; bade him goodbye. The Gotal ran, thinking now would be his only chance.

“Hey, fuzzball, “ Cad Bane called out. The Gotal whisked around. He was met with the barrel end of a blaster pistol pointed directly at him. “Enjoy yer last trip home,” he offered, a single particle beam being ejected from its pack. The Gotal dropped like a ton of duracrete flat upon his back.

Bane glanced to you; thankfully you had not stirred. He bent down, then resituated you within his arms. He addressed his droid, firing up his Mitrinomon thrusters. The Duros took to the air, aiming for his hovercar some few blocks off. “We get ‘er back t’de sship, dhen I take care o’dhis Green Hair,” he crisply hissed.

“Shouldn’t we take her to her penthouse first, Mister Bane?” Todo asked presumptuously, thinking that his master was not considering all aspects.

“Naht leavin’ ‘er a’lone dhis way, yer gonna keep ‘er company an’ yer gonna like it,” the Duros stated, sailing through the gaps and spaces between buildings and other forms of real estate. “’Sides, her fancy-pants castle is on de o’der side’a dhis icky menopausilis. Hate backtrackin.’ Al’ready berthed too far as is.”

“Did you mean ecumenopolis? I am afraid I do not understand,” Todo complained. “What am I to do with her?” he asked, nonplussed.

“It ain’ karkin’ rocket science, an’ if it were, ye’ gotta rocket scientist right here,” Bane claimed dismissively.

“With the way she acts I would have assumed she is a xenobiologist on the verge of discovering a new species!” the techno-service droid boldly shot right back. Cad Bane amassed a growl deep within his chest.

“Use yer blaassted logic pro’cessor! Green hair don’ know anythin.’ Wait too long, de traail goes cold, plus’e finds out ‘is pads been compromiised,” the Duros rationalized.

“Yes, that does make sense,” Todo easily gave in.

“’Course it does! S’also why Ah’m de one in charge. Now, get in de pilot’s seat,” Cad Bane demanded tersely.

Bane’s source of transport was an airspeeder. It was a vehicle that could fit right in the Justifier’s cargo bay. His ship was docked in a far off spaceport some thousand sectors over. Zi-Kree was immense. Foremost, he had to get you out of here. He settled you in first, then hopped in afterward. “Fly,” he instructed brusquely.

Todo grumbled to himself and anyone who’d listen. “I am a techno-service droid, not a chauffeur droid! Why is it you never want to drive yourself?”

Cad Bane crossed his scrawny legs, placing one hand daintily atop his knee. He looked squarely at the back of Todo’s head, glaring before his eyes widened like a giddy child as they began to move. Cad Bane loved sight-seeing, and he also loved majestic sunsets. On top of that, he was feeling quite pleased with himself and felt he had earned his God damn credits.

He could have argued, or made up some excuse. Instead he lied, though giving the little droid an ego boost to boot. “Yer betta’ aht dhis part,” he curtly clarified, although it could be said Bane appreciated taking in the scenery when he had the time.

“Oh, well you could have said so… a long time ago,” Todo commented. Bane had never bothered to compliment his flying skills before.

The conversation paused. Cad Bane found himself staring down at your sleeping form as he rumbled a soft sound.

“Sir, are you - are you purring?” Todo asked as he glanced backwards.

Cad Bane coughed, hacked, and otherwise choked on his own spit. “Ain doin’ no such thing!” he angrily declared, “An’ watch where yer goin’!” he crossly shouted.

“I just wonder what it is that made you do so,” Todo mulled aloud.

“God ferbid Ah take’a moment te m’self,” Bane griped in indignation.

Todo kept quiet after that though his droid brain had a few independent thought processes; they were things best kept to himself.

His master was not one to like unsolicited advice, though Todo’s programming would not allow him to give up on what was in Bane’s best interest. It was somewhat a blessing and a curse for this poor Duros; Todo could be a nuisance.

Bane only wanted to be left alone, but Todo knew better – he had a power conduit to couple – it would only make things easier for them, as a team, should his best organic friend sate his innate needs and he knew just the thing…

[fionajames]

ocs pt. 2

apologies but i love making characters

GUYS IM SO SORRY FOR BEING ABSENT TODAY, I HAD TO WORK ON AN ASSIGNMENT AND THEN DRIVE AN HOUR TO MY COUSINS' PLACE FOR A BIRTHDAY AND THEN DRIVE AN HOUR BACK PLUS IVE BEEN TAKING CARE OF MY LITTLE BRO AND SIS

@lovejoysoots u asked to be tagged so here :) also, hope its okay i included xane in taki's info!

GUYS REQUEST.

ALSO, I REALISE KNOW IVE ONLY JUST MENTIONED THIS, BUT IF Y'ALL WANT I CAN WRITE AN 'X READER' WITH MY OC IF U LIKE THEM THAT MUCH BUT YOU. HAVE. TO. TELL. ME.

ANYWAYS, ENJOY, AND SORRY AGAIN

Taki Caileth

Taki is a Nautolan Bounty Hunter with dark violet skin and magenta, lilac and pastel purple. His eyes are purely black (as Nautolan eyes usually are).

He's eighteen in 22 BBY and became a Bounty Hunter when he was merely a kid - because he grew up on Glee Anslem until he was eight and then was hurriedly taken away, growing up on Tatooine and Corellia, as well as all over the galaxy.

He fights best with a sword or a blaster rifle. Taki is decently well-known as a Bounty Hunter under the name of Maverick (not related to Top Gun, it literally means an independent person). Whilst many know Maverick, not many know Taki.

Taki works - as the word maverick means - independently. It's not because he hates people or anything but because of trust issues after his family's death.

During the Clone War, Taki sides with whoever pays - and usually the GAR, because he feels bad for the clones. Not the senate, not the republic, not the Jedi, the clones.

He's smart and calculating yet sarcastic and loyal. His loyalty can be his downfall as he tends to trust easily and so his solution is to not get too close to anyone.

On several occasions, Taki has teamed up with fellow Bounty Hunter Xane. They are a scarily and shockingly good team and share several views over things, although Taki sides with the GAR more, Xane has a disliking towards a certain Jedi named Anakin Skywalker.

Although Taki is moving alot, he has a place on the lower levels of Coruscant which he uses as a base. 

During the war, as everyone is desperate for money, Bounty Hunters become very valuable. One Bounty Hunter was doing a job for the Separatists and kidnapped a Jedi Youngling - an eight year old Rodian boy. Desperately, the GAR hired Taki, who went and retrieved the boy. In the process, he lost his left leg from the knee down. In thanks, the Jedi gave him a black-metal prosthetic and paid him about 70% of what he was originally supposed to earn, even though the prosthetic cost about the same price as the original payment. Taki begins to side even more with the GAR because the Separatists captured an innocent child - which he sees as very wrong, as something similar happened to him when he was younger.

Taki doesn’t really have a best friend but he’s closest with Xane and the Rodian Youngling he rescued.

Satsuki Noriko

Satsuki is a Human girl with light freckled skin, short, fluffy (dyed) red hair and black eyes. She’s seventeen in 22 BBY. Her grandmother was a Mandalorian who left Mandalore for reasons she refuses to explain.

Satsuki has a shop on the middle layers of Coruscant where she paints armour and helmets, as well as ships and speeders occasionally. When the clone wars came around, Satsuki decided to increase her work hours - in hopes of getting more customers and more money - so she could allow Clones to come in. Because the Clones aren’t paid, Satsuki doesn’t charge them for any money.

She’s kind and generous, but also sarcastic and stubborn. Her best friend is a Clone trooper named Trinket. Trinket once saved an old, rich woman off-planet who insisted on giving him her expensive jewellery as thanks. Trinket gave all of it to Satsuki as payment for the paints, materials and her time on behalf of all the Clones.  

Satsuki is part of a rather large family with one fourteen year old sister, one eight year old half-sister and one six year old half-brother. The family do family dinners weekly and Satsuki gets along best with her sisters and brother and grandmother. Her grandmother is your resident badass grandmother who is incredibly scary and awesome. 

Satsuki has and will beat up anyone who talks shit about the Clones and is their number 1 protector. She hangs out with Trinket, Fox, Rex, Cody and Vyper (the unnamed Commander of the 13th Battalion who I’ve named) the most.

Satsuki sees the Clones as her brothers and best friends, and has to be daily convinced not to sneak on board to join the fight. 

One time, Satsuki introduced Rex to her grandmother and her grandmother instantly called him bu’ad and he almost cried. 

The Clones and her have frequent conversations in pure Mando’a and it’s rather entertaining. 

Rin Keiko

Rin is a human girl with long black hair, dark brown eyes and tan skin. She’s 16 in 22 BBY making her one of the youngest Jedi Knights, although not the youngest ever. Rin fought during the Battle of Geonosis alongside her Mirialan Master Aoi Tsumugi. During the fight, Aoi was struck down and Rin was forced to continue fighting for her life, feeling alone even though surrounded by hundreds of other Jedi.

After the battle, Rin managed to convince the Council into Knighting her using her points that one; Aoi was going to Knight her in a few months anyway, two; they’re scarce for Knights and need all they can get, and three; she is ready. 

Rin was then Knighted and given a battalion of her own to lead as General. Alongside her Clone Commander Warden, of course.

Rin is what many describe as insane. She is protective to her troops and friends and would rather lay down her life than any of theirs. She’s reckless and smart but overconfident and cocky in a scary way. Her laugh is maniacal and intertwined with trauma, plus her troops are convinced she's either seeing ghosts or hearing voices. That doesn’t mean they don’t love her though! Their General is their sister and they are extremely horrified when they find out months after meeting her that she's still just a kid.

They are terrified for her when they accidentally somehow witness one of her PTSD-induced dreams (something a lot of Jedi get and are extremely dangerous) as she floated midair and objects swirled around her like a hurricane. She - frankly - looked possessed.

Rin starts losing it with the council a lot, laughing inappropriately and insanely and muttering loudly with huge grins. It’s terrifying for a sixteen year old to do that. If Rin wasn’t such a good fighter and General, the GAR would have probably forced her into some sort of insane asylum - or at least gotten her daily therapy.

Rin’s best friend is Warden and their like brother and sister, and all her friends are the Clones and some of the Jedi. 

Iniko Edge

Iniko is a fourteen-year-old Pantoran Youngling boy. He has violet blue skin (colour hex code; #4157A2), golden yellow eyes, soft yellow markings on his arms, legs and hands, and curly raven black hair that is actually very dark, deep purple but only really obvious in certain lights.

Iniko has a double-bladed dark purple lightsaber that can be split into two separate lightsabers (like Cal’s). He got both crystals during the Gathering, and panicked because of it. 

Iniko was apprenticed to Shaak Ti at the start of the Clone Wars and lives on Kamino. He trains there and has befriended many clones. 

Iniko is a kind and quiet boy, but not shy. He loves befriending the Clones but is a bit quiet at first. All the Clones see him like a younger brother. After a few months of training with his Master on Kamino, Iniko is sent to assist other Jedi with missions and use Kamino as his base instead of Coruscant. He is sent as a Commander alongside Captain Rook and a small battalion of Clones. They aren’t really like battalions such as the 212th and 501st because they're a lot smaller and they have never gone on missions just with themselves. They don’t even go on missions as much as others, because thats how they work.

Iniko secretly cries for every Clones’ death and is a sweet Clones’ rights supporter. He befriends lots of other battalions’ clones - such as Cody, Rex, Jesse and others. He is best friends with Captain Rook, Ahsoka - who he teams up with during missions and was actually créchemates with - and several members of his squad - in particular Tripp, Kaz and Tempest. 

Iniko also met Rin and sees her as an older sister, although Rook lectures him regularly about not taking after her reckless nature. Rook is extremely protective over him, and it shows through a lot. In fact, the entire squad - and others - are protective over him. But not in an obsessed way. They know that he can handle himself and that's what scares them. 

Iniko is a wholesome boy and very similar to Dhole in a few ways because of it, but also different. 

Iniko hides his breakdowns and illnesses and injuries and all that from everyone, because he believes he doesn’t matter as much. That’s one of the Temple’s faults. They brought up all the Younglings, Padawans, Knights and Masters to believe that peace was the most important thing, and to get it at all costs. Accidentally, they taught Iniko that he wasn’t worth as much as the battle, and so he remembers that. The Clones are slowly helping him but he’s still fragile.

DONE

HOPE U LIKED

IMMA GO HAVE A MENTAL BREAKDOWN

[thehighrepublicbrainrot]

*The High Republic Spoilers*

Honestly, Cohmac leaving the Order at the end of Midnight Horizon is so sad.

Because, it's not like when Ahsoka leaves. When she leaves, the Jedi made the mistake of accusing her and letting her down when she need them the most. So when she leaves, it's because she's lost faith and trust in them.

But with Cohmac, it's different. While yes, he isn't a big fan of the direction the Order's currently headed in (and he has good reason not to!) that's not why he leaves.

Ever since the Eiram-E'hronoh crisis, he's been struggling, and no one thought about helping him, so he buries his grief and other issues. Then, during the time of the books, those issues resurface, and again, no one approaches him to help him.

Yes, Orla notices in Into the Dark, but when he says he needs the Order right now more than ever, she doesn't think that the Order will be able to help him, but still just leaves to become a Wayseeker (of course she has her own issues to work through and you can't really blame her).

Then, around the time of Midnight Horizon, Cohmac has sought help from her to sort through his emotions, but it seems like she's the only one helping him.

On their way to Corellia, Cohmac askes Kantam if they ever think about becoming a Wayseeker or doing something of the sort. Basically, he asks them if they also struggle. But instead of actually listening to him, they start telling him a story of their past, that probably doesn't really help him.

So, summarized, over the years, the Jedi let him down time and time again, and they basically didn't give him a choice but to leave.

And that's what so sad about him leaving the Order. He wanted to be a part of them, and he was trying to control his emotions, but the Jedi didn't help him, and in the end, he just couldn't live by the Code anymore, and had to leave.

He didn't want to leave; he just couldn't stay anymore.

[cinna-wanroll]

Bait

You may read this below, or on AO3 :)

For @cyareclones

Golden hour fell over Corellia like a diving phoenix. It spread the tips of its wings across Urudyk's features, washing over his face. The left side looked like the center of a blaze, burning hot, while the orange illuminated across the rest of his face turned into lapping flames.

Locks knelt in the shadow of his partner's towering frame, determined. Even with the cold weight of Urudyk's rifle on his temple, he felt at peace.

High atop the roof of a business tower, they waited for company. The breeze blew cool, sliding past them like water over smooth stones. Locks closed his eyes, a sigh slipping from his lips.

"You're sure about this," Urudyk prodded once more.

After nearly six months of working together, Urudyk's deep timbre became a source of comfort. The same voice answered each of Locks' requests with steadfast reassurance, told clever jokes, and lulled Locks to sleep on nights when he lay awake. The same steady rhythm lurked behind Urudyk's purring slumber sounds. Each syllable was a familiar note that Locks could read as though contextualized on a datapad. Urudyk was concerned, but not about the plan. Locks knew Urudyk trusted him enough not to question his strategies. This concern was a new, foreign kind of worry that had Locks swallowing over an invisible lump in his throat.

"I am."

Silence, save for the distant whirring of traffic.

Eventually, Urudyk straightened and pressed the muzzle of his rifle harder into the side of Locks' head, signaling that the targets were approaching. Locks gave him one last, hard look.

"Do what you will to survive," someone had once advised him dryly, "this Force The Jedi speak of, it is without mercy."

"Ni cuy' ti gar," Locks said firmly.

As Urudyk pulled his face covering over his nose, he answered, "Ni cuy' ti gar."

Three silhouettes were approaching them silently, each carrying a blaster. Urudyk had done an excellent job arranging the meeting. He lured the targets into a false sense of security with tact. A renegade clone would fetch these arrogant upperclassmen a hefty sum from the Empire. Urudyk's only request had been that they arrive on short notice.

"I just want to be rid of him," he had snarled into the comm, a reassuring hand draped over Lock's shoulder.

Oh, the targets sprang at the opportunity to take advantage of such a deal. Blind fools were the best targets because they often meant that Urudyk and Locks got to return to The Crusader early.

Blind fools though they were, they still had blasters.

When they approached with haste, Uru backed away for a moment as they marveled over Locks. Natborns never seemed to get over the delight of seeing a real clone. It was as though they were desperate to verify his face's sameness, that sinister quality of one.

One of the men scoffed, "This one doesn't look like an exact copy of the rest of them. I don't know. How can we be sure this is the real deal?"

They were stepping on his fingers, grabbing his chin harshly enough to leave bruises, tugging on his hair. Locks could feel the tension radiating off of Urudyk, waiting to strike.

Not yet, not yet.

"Wonder if he'd do better as a brawler. He might make us even more money that way. They're bred for fighting, you know. That's all they're good for. What else would they do?"

Locks sat still, wondering if he would ever be regarded as anything other than an identical pawn. Tears pricked his eyes as a man slapped him, the sting shooting up his cheek.

Urudyk shifted.

Not yet, not yet.

As the chime for 18:00 sounded across the city, they painted at least a part of the town red.

That night, after a long stretch of gentle quiet, Urudyk's voice arrived in time to save Locks from his thoughts.

"You are more than a product for destruction."

“Then what am I?”

“Just... a man.”

Locks ruminated on that.

After a while, Urudyk yawned and amended, “a good man.”

Locks chose to focus on the word good, rolling it over in his mind. Did it feel better to be a good man than just a man? What made him good? He decided it didn’t matter all that much to him in the end. There was no true good or bad, after all. Locks had learned that the hard way through faith in a system that failed him and his brothers. A system supposedly founded on light turned to dust with his vod. Now, he had made his own light, for better or worse, with Urudyk. And that was enough.

“Goodnight,” Locks replied, tucking himself deeper into Urudyk’s arms.

“Goodnight, Locks’ika.”

[casp1an-sea]

@ravenwing0110 told me to answer every question of my Star Wars asks. But I blocked two ask games. So here are all the answers to the one made by @sunshinechildskywalker

(The answers to the other one are here)

—————————————————————————

Who do you think is the most controversial character? Why, and what is your opinion of them?

I can’t think of someone currently probably will at sound point 

What is your most unpopular opinion about Star Wars?

Atack of the Clones is my favorite prequels movie 

What is your favorite fandom pocket on social media? (e.g. Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram, etc?)

Tumblr (the only other thing I have is Reddit) 

Where would you live were you in-universe?

CORSOCAUNT I LOVE THAT FUCKING PLANET (but I headcanon myself as being born on Corellia)

What kind of fics do you prefer to read?

i Uhm exclusively read Kylux fics I know it’s embarrassing 

What is your favorite Star Wars arc/story element?

Umbara, and the inhibitor chip stuff, plus a lot more I don’t feel like listing at the moment 

Do you have a Star Wars playlist? If so, feel free to link it!

I have several these are the ones I made myself

Han/Han Highschool AU

Some of my favorite Star Wars themes

these are ones I didn’t make myself it listen to frequently

Royish good looks songs

AMVs by Thomas Editz

Bully Maguire in Star Wars

What is your favorite Star Wars meme?

Again too many but I think my current favorite is cerveau Crystal LMAO

What is your all-time favorite piece of content? Could be movie, book, comic, etc.

Courtship of Princess Leia 

Where do you get your Star Wars merch? What do you have?

Online, Disney, Book stores, game stop. I have a lot of stuff probably should not list it all lol but I have pins, a Lula plushie, many Funko pops, several other bobble heads, lots and lots of books, plenty of T-shirts, jewelry, socks, credits, Legos, an Ewok cereal box, and I collect these really dumb looking blind bag keychains I think I have like 10 of them all on the same purse. Oh, and a lijgtsaber and a mini lijgtsaber keychain.

What character do you relate to the most? In what ways?

Luke. I kin him idk 

Who is your comfort character? Why?

Han and Tech mostly but there are a bunch more. Han is my father. And I just lached onto tech I don’t know he’s my brother now.

What is your hot take on the sequel trilogy?

Rey should have died Kylo should have lived, and Hux should have lived. Then Hux goes to the resistance thinking he finally escaped Kylo but Then Kylo is also there and he’s like “well fuck” and then they kiss.

I have a whole bunch of rats about the sequel trilogy, but I will spare you from them. You’re welcome to send me asks or DM’s about it though I will talk your ear off

What parts of the fandom do you enjoy? 

I mean pretty much all of it. I’m aware I can never get along with Rey fans or Han haters though. 

What parts don't you enjoy?

People that sexualize clone wars Asoka, and yk like ship clones with other clones. And a certain YouTube channel that uses ai to make Anakin joke about being racist. 

Who is one Star Wars blog you are hoping will follow you?

Kinda feel embarrassed to call them out but I think they are cool and I want to be friend but Uhm @stealingpotatoes and @lifblogs I hope you guys don’t mind me tagging you

What made you fall in love with Star Wars?

Han in ESB. That’s when my hyperfixation First started.

Have you ever been to opening night for a Star Wars film? Which one, and what was it like?

Idk if saw rise of skywalker opening night but I did see it when it was first in theaters 

Do you write fanfic for Star Wars? If so, what do you write about?Feel free to link your AO3/FFN!

I have but I currently don’t have a lot of it posted. The one I have posted in Star Wars but better. Which is a new Hope but Luke is replaced with an ankle biting gremlin. I plan to post my imperial academy AU fic soon and write a Barris fix it fix. But I’m having complications with getting the AU onto Tumblr.

Here’s the link to my writing master post where Star Wars but better is linked (you can find the link to my writing master post in my master list on my intro post)

What is your favorite spin-off series/movie? Why?

My favorite movie is Empire strikes back. My favorite prequel’s movie is attack of the clones. My favorite sequels movie is the force awakens because Han. My favorite stand alone Movie is rogue one because Solo never had a chance. My favorite animated TV series is both clone wars, and bad batch because let’s be honest they’re the same thing. Rebels is amazing though. And my favorite live action TV series is hands-down ANDOR. Oh and my favorite Lego movie is the Christmas special one. (not to be confused with the holiday special, which is kind of a banger. So bad that it’s good.)

Did Han shoot first?

everyone always ask this, but we all know the answer it was Han

—————————————————————————

thank you @sunshinechildskywalker and congrats again this was really fun

[weird-writes]

Five Runs: Run 5 - Home (The Mandalorian, E)

Title: Five Runs: Run 5 - Home

Series: Part three of Creed, a non-linear series about Din Djarin and his favorite... distraction. 

Description: A series of drabbles all sharing one theme: you've decided to run away from your Mandalorian. On purpose. For his birthday. Listen, everyone's got their kinks, and his is bounty hunting (sort of. Mostly, it's you.)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

The fifth time, it's a hot whisper against your ear in the dark: “When I said run, I didn’t mean stay in my bed.”

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, canon-typical violence, object insertion but probably not in the way you think, oral sex, manual sex, implied penetrative sex, brief mention of somnophilia, canon what canon, no betas we die like men [warnings are for all drabbles.]

Tropes: established relationship, the helmet comes off, hurt/comfort, fluff, adventure

Author's note: This one is for @mandoloriancookie, who was one of the first people to encourage me to keep going when I posted my first fanfic in 20+ years. Hope you like Din with his helmet off.

RUN 5: HOME

The fifth time, it's a hot whisper against your ear in the dark: “When I said run, I didn’t mean stay in my bed.”

"Oh come on, it’s not like you had any reason to come back and look. And I had a hell of week, what with all the weird rituals and your Mandalorians staring at me. I didn't feel much like exercise.”

"They're not my Mandalorians. And not that I mind, but circling back to the ship is cheating," Din says, but you can tell his heart's not in it. You'd had the good sense to be naked when he found you and it's already paying off, because his irritation is muted by the way he's kissing down your collarbone toward the swell of your breast. Then he pauses, hovering over your nipple. "Wait. How the hell did you get back in here without tripping the alarm?"

That had occurred to you too. You had your own ground protocol disarmament button on your comm link, but if you’d used it, or opened the gangway hatch to get back inside, the ship would have notified Din and he would have known exactly where you were. So you pursued... other means.

"Promise you won't be mad if I tell you," you say, only half-joking.

You can't see Din's reaction in the dim space of his rack but you can feel him bury his head between your tits, press his nose to your sternum, and groan. “No, I don't promise, and I know you're dying to tell me anyway."

You absolutely are. "You know that job you took three weeks ago, when you were planetside without me? I rewired the security system to ignore the maintenance cubby below the hyperdrive. The one right against the bulkhead."

"That wouldn't have gotten you in." He sounds dubious but you're not done.

"And then I spent the next few jobs figuring out how to make a really, really tiny grav bomb," you continue, and Din lets out another noise like a dying bantha. "And then after that, when we took that job on Ferrix, I salvaged an emergency airlock seal and cut it down to size. Obviously we're still space-worthy, I'm not totally insane. I'll do the real repair in Corellia, they have amazing parts markets."

"You maniac," Din says. "You are insane. You spent three weeks and a pile of credits just to win a contest that doesn't mean anything and you're going to have to spend another week and another pile of credits to fix it, and you lost anyway."

You bridle at that. "Okay, first of all, it was a very impressive test of my skills so respect where it's due, tinhead. Secondly, I would have won if you hadn't decided to bring the ship with you to Central, which, by the way, is also cheating. And third -- technically, you haven't found the new countdown timer yet," you finish, a little breathlessly. Din's resumed his warm attentions to your breasts while you talk. He makes a skeptical sound as he trails back up your chest and bites down on one earlobe, playing the flesh gently between teeth and tongue and making you shudder. You wonder if you'll ever be less sensitive to the feeling of his mouth on you. You doubt it.

"How much time is left?" Din asks, when he finally releases you. You've dissolved into his touch as you usually do, pliant and willing underneath him, and it takes you a second to recall yourself enough to answer.

"Well, I'm not exactly wearing a chrono, but probably.... about five minutes?"

"Plenty of time for me to still win." You scoff at his confidence, but Din's response is to pin your hip down with one big hand while he slides down your body and nudges your legs apart with the other. He pushes a callused finger into your wet heat and you ache at the intrusion, canting your hips up to ask for more. He obligingly hooks another finger into you, earning a moan, and then you hear a muffled, triumphant noise as Din finds what he's looking for and tugs. The sensation of the biocoat prophylactic sliding out of you, its blinking electronic burden still safe inside, is extremely odd, even more so than inserting it was. You can feel yourself flushing with belated embarrassment, heat rising up your neck to color your cheeks. You still can't make out his expression but Din lifts his head from between your thighs and you just know his eyebrows are incredulous.

"You maniac," he says again, simultaneously laughing and appalled. "Maker, I remember when you were shy. Did you really think that wouldn't be the first place I'd look? I know you, mesh'la, and that includes your sense of humor. And even if I didn't, you know I can't keep my hands off you."

"Your fingers out of me, more like," you say, but you hope he can hear your grin even if you are blushing. "Maybe I wanted to lose. Maybe I thought you needed a win after I beat you so bad last time."

"Yeah, by getting arrested," he grumbles, but he sets the tiny round button aside, still wrapped, and dips his head to lick a long hot stripe up you instead. Then he does it again, and again, and you arch into the pleasure, countdown forgotten, begging for more of the touch that is finally permitted between you. For more of what he always awakens in you.

"Din-- fuck, Din -- right there, yes, please..."

He gives you a few more firm strokes, then trades tongue for fingers, lightly circling your clit, and presses a kiss to your inner thigh. "As the winner, shouldn't I be deciding the terms? We're supposed to be in the air and on the way to Corellia in…” He checks the timer. “Now.”

You whine. He's well within the rights of your game to pull away and make you wait as long as it pleases him, but the bed is so comfortable and he feels so good against you. You weren’t kidding about your week; all you want is your own Mando to yourself for a while. "Another five minutes-- it’s your birthday,” you plead.

He laughs into the soft flesh of your belly, his fingers never stopping their teasing. "I told you years ago. I don't know my birthday."

"Ugh, you're no fun. What kind of birthday is 'sometime during the rainy cycle on Aq Vetina' anyway?" Your complaint is familiar by now. "You let me pick a date on the standard calendar, and I picked today. So it's your birthday."

"If it's my birthday and I won the hunt, why does it feel like you're bossing me around?" You can feel Din's smile as he drags his mouth to the juncture of your thighs and spreads you open. You moan as his tongue dips just inside you, but he's continuing the conversation like nothing happened, speaking directly to your core. "Besides, who cares about birthdays when now I can do this anytime I want." His voice has taken on that rich, dark tone you've only ever heard him use with you. "I'm going to taste my riduur while she sleeps, eat her while she works, bend you over the console and fuck you with my--"

Din's list is cut short as you grab his shoulders, hauling him up your body to tangle your mouths together, the kiss as new and ecstatic as you feel. By the time you stop to breathe again, you're both panting, and you can feel the hard length of him pressing against your hip. You want him more than you ever imagined possible.

"Another five minutes," you say again, and bury your fingers in his hair to pull him closer.

FIN

run 1 | run 2 | run 3 | run 4 | series masterlist

[valkblue]

Hi Angie!! I hope you’re having a great week so far!! 🥰🥰🥰

7, 8, 18 & one of your choice for the writer asks please!!

Hi, Alyssa! My week has been good so far, thank you! I hope yours is too 💖

7- How do you choose which POV to write from?

Most times, it depends on which part of the story is more interesting; if a character A has nothing else to do than wait, and this wait would bring nothing to the tension or pacing of the story, then I switch to character B or C or any other more interesting part of said story. It's a bit like being game master for a bunch of players and having to manage them in a not-too-boring turn by turn.

8- Do you prefer the beginning, middle, or end of a story?

It depends. Usually, my favourite part is the middle. I tend to find the beggining of a story kind of frustrating because there are settings and lore to explain and I can't wait to be in the thick of it!! Endings are less frustrating, they are more satisfying, but the feeling is still kinda close to the one I have at the beginning.

18- Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

There are stories (fics or originales) for which I have titles at the very beginning, and others for which I still have none… even though they have a complete plot + ending, set of characters, visual resources for plenty of locations, faceclaims and detailed scenes written in script mode. And still no title. Not even the inkling of an idea, nothing! So theses stories go on for a while with kind of a 'codename', until I find one.

For example, Lost and Found and Improvisation Only didn't get a title right away, but Journey Into Night had one before a single word was written down.

To find a title when I have none, I usually brainstorm with a friend about it, and we go crazy from there until we found something catchy, or meaningful. Or both, ideally. Sometimes, I know what kind of title I'd like or, on the contrary, wish to avoid at all cost, and it's also a good way to start trimming.

Funfact, the hardest stories to title are my Elbaran stories about Ulrik and Leo… because they are written in a very specific and non-linear way so I have to keep them under a strange "part 1.5a/b/c" kind of way even I get confused with sometimes 🙃

40- If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

First of all, if someone were to make a fanart of any of my work, I'd cry with joy. I don't know for sure what scene I'd love most because what I'd love is to see the way the person imagined/pictured it in their mind, whether it's accurate to mine and how I intended it or not!

In Lost and Found, there are many scenes in urban settings (Nuth, Goshir, Corellia…) I'd love to see painted just because I love architecture (and I think it shows in my wordcount for describing buildings in and out 😅) but I also love landscapes and battle/fight scenes, so you see how difficult it is for me to choose?!?! And in my Full Diagnostic series, it's the same! But I mention it second because these paintings of @cherloak exist on here:

Vivian and Lawrence | Nighttime Campfire | After the Shoot Out (with Buddy and Pighead in the background)

😭💖✨

[kleyamarki]

who needs authorization?

Pairings & characters: Leia Organa & Hera Syndulla, Mon Mothma (mentioned), Jacen Syndulla (mentioned), Hamato Xiono (mentioned)

Category: Gen

Other tags: Hera Syndulla is So Done, Leia Organa is So Done, Missing Scene, Pre-Episode: s01e05 Part Five: Shadow Warrior (Star Wars: Ahsoka TV)

Notes: I’ve been in “Senator Organa says she can only give us cover for so long,” brainrot for a full 24 hours. This is the result. Enjoy <3

Summary: General Syndulla and Senator Organa make a deal — for Ezra.

AO3 Link

“Leia, you should’ve seen her face,” Hera paced around her office on Home One, her holoprojection coming in and out of frame.

The senator was in her own office on Chandrila.

“Okay,” she said, “Tell me again, from the top.” Leia believed everything Hera had already told her, but she wanted to hear the story again to come up with some kind of plan.

“We were attacked by Imperial loyalists on Corellia working for Morgan Elsbeth,” Hera began.

Leia pulled up her file on Elsbeth, “The Navy woman?” She broke in, skimming over the file quickly.

“Yes,” Hera nodded, “She was arrested not too long ago as an Imperial sympathizer, but broke out of the prison ship she was detained on.”

“Got it,” Leia said simply, “Go on.”

“The senators on the call with the chancellor so graciously reminded me that there are former Imperials working all throughout the New Republic government,” Hera continued, “And that Imperial remnants don’t pose a threat anymore,” she shook her head as if in disbelief.

“But with Elsbeth’s connection to Thrawn…” Leia trailed off, still thinking.

“If she’s able to contact him or find him, those Imperial remnants suddenly have a leader — and a really good one, at that,” Hera finished for her.

The possibility of renewed Imperial remnants being able to come together made Leia’s stomach turn. Part of her couldn’t believe Chancellor Mothma allowed Hera to get walked over by senators who obviously knew nothing, who had the luxury of waiting out the war to see who came out on top of it. She’d grown up around the Imperial senate, she knew that compromise and at least trying to hear each other was key. But Hera said it herself: “long live the Empire” was not the loyalty they were looking for.

“Mon,” Hera gave a dark chuckle, “She looked uneasy, afraid, maybe, but wouldn’t stand up for me, or for Ezra,” she was pacing again, “So much for him being a hero to the New Republic, right?” Hera stopped and looked to Leia, hurt in her eyes.

Leia swallowed. She worked with a lot of people during the Rebellion, and she vowed a long time ago that if any of them needed a favor, she’d do it, minimal questions asked (or no questions, outside of natural curiosity). She’d already cashed in favors for Hera, and she’d become a friend, which afforded her many more. But for Ezra, this could be as close as she was able to get.

Leia sighed, “I’m guessing you didn’t get authorization to pursue the matter further, then?” She felt silly for even asking.

“After discussing with the senators, she told me no,” Hera said bitterly, “I don’t have authorization to leave Home One, let alone to go to the Denab system, where Elsbeth is heading.”

“Even though at the shipyard they said ‘long live the Empire?’” Leia could still hardly believe that fact, “And Mon was visibly shaken up by the mention of Thrawn?” It was even more of a shock to her that Mon Mothma would back down at even a shadow of Imperial loyalty.

Hera just nodded.

“I can’t just sit back and do nothing, Leia,” she said quietly after a long moment.

“How can I help?” Leia asked, for Hera and for Ezra.

Relief flooded Hera’s face, obvious even in holoprojection form, “I need you to keep the chancellor and those senators occupied, especially Xiono.”

Leia rolled her eyes at the mere mention of Xiono — Mon she could handle, but pure idiots like him got on her last nerve. But it was an easy enough task, “You got it, General,” she replied, “What about Home One?”

Hera grinned, “These are my people, Senator, I’m sure they can come up with something.”

There was the Hera that Leia knew and loved.

“Safe travels to the Denab system, General,” Leia smiled, “and tell Jacen hello for me.”

“Thank you, Leia,” Hera was sincere, “and good luck to you, especially with Xiono.” The holocall ended, Hera’s grinning projection blinking off.

Leia took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. It was show time.

[burnwater13]

Boba Fett and the Sand People running across the top of a speeder train moving spice on Tatooine. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 2, The Tribes of Tatooine. Calendar from DateWorks.

Grogu didn’t think he’d ever be allowed to run along the top of a transport train. For one thing it was very dangerous. For another it would take him forever to get wherever he was supposed to go. He was glad that the Mandalorian wasn’t with him when Boba Fett told him about the time he helped his tribe of Sand People stop the movement of spice across their lands on Tatooine. 

Daimyo Fett described it as a turning point in his relationship with the Sand People and Grogu could understand that. He was no longer just doing things for his own convenience. He was helping the Sand People because he’d learned to care about them and how they lived in such a harsh environment. It was always better to be a volunteer. 

Well, almost always. There was that time…

HA! You thought Grogu was going to tell you a story about his time at the Jedi Temple and some sort of lesson that he’d learned with the help of his friend Ian. It was understandable. He’d told plenty of those stories. But not this time. Nope.

This time the story was very different. Really. He promises. 

It was a beautiful, sunny day on Corellia when the ship landed with Grogu’s pram. He only knew that because he’d managed to peak out of it for a moment, before the cover was shut so no one could see him. He didn’t like being closed away like that, but it was Master Beq’s call, not his. He’d never been to Corellia before and he was curious about it. Very curious. But they left the ship and he had no idea what that part of Corellia really looked like.

That didn’t matter, however. They needed to get to wherever they going. The attack on the Jedi Temple wasn’t going to remain a secret for long and Grogu expected that people, most likely Clones, would be searching for them sooner, rather than later. No doubt that was why Master Beq had closed the pram. 

He could sense that they were traveling at a pretty good speed along a side walk or something like one when they just stopped. Thunk. He ‘thunked’ the inside of the pram because he hadn’t been prepared for a sudden stop. That was one of the problems with the pram being in it’s closed configuration.

Grogu supposed that he could have reached out to the Force and used it to help him understand what was going on, but his ears were still ringing with Master Beq’s command that he not access the Force under any circumstance. It was too dangerous and their enemies could be anywhere. That wasn’t an order Grogu was going to ignore, just to gaze at scenery, no matter how much he really wanted to do just that. 

The next time the pram cover opened, they were in another ship and Corellia was fading into a small speck. Grogu sighed. He should have expected that to happen. They weren’t going to stay on any planet  that close to Coruscant. They needed to be pretty far away as quickly as possible, but Grogu had no idea where they would end up. 

“We’re on our way to Naboo. We’ll be making stops along the way, but that’s where we’re headed. The Gungans have agreed to watch over you. They can be trusted. We’ll be making our next jump into hyperspace momentarily. I’m sorry I can’t explain more to you, Grogu, but I don’t know much more than I’ve already explained.”

Just as Master Beq said that a light flashed green and a bell rang. 

“Okay. Here we go.” 

Master Beq activated the hyperdrive and the ship… did nothing. It should have slipped into hyperspace. But it hadn’t. 

“I’m running a diagnostic. If we can’t fix this I have no idea what will happen.”

That hadn’t sounded good. Seconds turned into tens of seconds and tens of seconds turned into a full minute and a full minute was about to turn into a minute and a half when Master Beq groaned.

“Grogu. I need you to do something. There is a loose wire on the input side of the hyperdrive activation sequencer. I need you to crawl into the maintenance chase and push the input power cable on that activation sequencer back into full contact. Can you do that? If you’re afraid or think it’s too hard, I’ll figure out a work around.”

Dank Farrik! If there was one thing Grogu disliked more than being closed into the pram for long periods of time, it was being in other spaces that were cramped, dark, with a lot of protruding equipment, sharp edges, and strange sounds. 

On the other hand, he really didn’t want to just float around in space waiting for a squad of Clone Troopers to show and start blasting away at them. He’d seen enough blaster fire for a lifetime and his people had very long lifetimes under normal circumstances. 

Grogu took a deep breath and unbuckled his seat belt. He hopped down to the deck of the bridge and waited for Master Beq to open the access port, a small panel that wasn’t even fifteen centimeters wide. Grogu quickly got out of his coverall, grateful for his first layer being clean and stepped up to do the work. 

His friend Ian would have called what Master Beq did ‘Voluntelling’, but Grogu preferred to think of it as being another test of his abilities as a Jedi.  He just hoped that wire was still blue in this model of the ST-70 gunship. If it wasn’t, he was going to have problems. But like Boba Fett, he had a responsibility, as a Jedi in his case, to take of the people who took care of him. So he volunteered. 

See, Jedi and Mandalorians actually have a lot in common. 

[ahsokathegray]

I Bleed the Same || Twenty-Six

Pairing: Rexsoka

Summary: Ahsoka and Rex try and make sense of who and what they are after Order 66 occurs. Figuring out what to do with themselves, they remain together for a period of time before parting in their own directions.

Warnings: slow burn, mentions of Order 66, ptsd, injury, death, and future nsfw situations

Word Count: 5,321

A/N: Rex makes a tough decision and some feelings are felt. A dash of distress and a load of tension. Also, I'm having a bit of writer's block, so I'll see ya'll again with an update on 4/25!

read on ao3! / series masterlist

What went from worry over which emergency the Martez sisters could be contacting him about, quickly ignited into hope. Rex might’ve had to leave Gregor behind for now, but an entire squad of clones — already rogue — had just fallen headfirst into their laps. His mouth went dry, “Where do I need to go?”

“The youngest one said they’re staying on Ord Mantell,” Rafa provided, glancing to where Trace sat beside her nodding. 

Rex attempted to steady his breathing. Did the squad have a cadet with them? He hadn’t even considered how this transition might be playing out for younger clones. He shook his head in confusion, “The youngest one?”

Rafa confirmed, “They were traveling with a kid. A girl.”

So not a cadet. That didn’t make much sense at all. Had they rescued the girl on Corellia? Why would they bring her with them inside of a high security factory? He knew it wasn’t safe for the call to go on for too long, there was only time for a few questions to be answered. 

“What were they doing there?” he asked, his words coming out faster now. 

“Same as us. They were after the head — said their employer had a buyer, but they wound up letting us have it instead.”

The employer part made him nervous, but otherwise, it definitely sounded like his brothers. This squad of clones had just forfeited payment in order to help two strangers. “And you're sure they were clones?” he pressed, needing confirmation.

Rafa nodded, “They were clones alright, but they didn’t quite look all the way like you.”

Clone force 99. Echo. He wanted to ask for names, but knew he couldn’t. Instead, Rex squared his shoulders and gave the girl a nod, “Thank you, Rafa.” The holoprojection then fizzled out in his palm and Rex pocketed the small device. 

Ahsoka shuffled her feet beside him and she fidgeted with her fingers. She chanced another look upwards. The Repub— the Imperial Venator still loomed overhead. “Rex, do you know the clones they ran into?” she asked, something like hope lacing her voice. The deep stir within him was practically visible on his face. He knew something.

“I’m almost certain. Remember what I told you about Echo en route to Mandalore? And the troopers he joined — the ones that helped me extract him on Skako Minor?” he prefaced. 

“You think the sisters ran into Echo?” Ahsoka asked, her features lifting. 

The last time she’d seen him had been on the mission to the Citadel. After his presumed death, she felt far less guilty for having secretly traveled to Lola Sayu without her Master’s permission. The ARC’s passing had an impact on everyone; a core member of the 501st gone. She was elated when the Captain had told her of his survival. She’d even hoped to see him after the siege had come to a close. Hearing that he was alive and well was incredible news then, but hearing that it might still be true after the rise of the Empire was even more uplifting. 

Rex was trying not to get his hopes up, but it proved challenging to suppress the good news. Either way, both missions had been a success. Having a third win wasn’t something he was going to turn away so quickly. “I don’t know, but I suspect so. We should get inside. I’m not sure it’s safe to leave the planet just yet, but we want to be ready in case those transports come back around,” he waved, jumping back into the pilot’s seat. 

“You know, one of these days I’m gonna pilot and you’re gonna sit in the rear,” Ahsoka remarked playfully, climbing in behind him. 

“What are you insinuating about my flight skills?” he tossed, wearing a toothy grin and failing at not allowing the news to sway his mood. 

He almost didn’t think about hurtling through the debris of the Tribunal to save her. 

“Besides the fact that I’m the better pilot, you’re going on almost no sleep, Rex,” she responded, half-joking but mostly serious. He only shrugged. Ahsoka looked up again, hoping that the more she looked at the Venator, the less sick she’d feel. 

As the ship's canopies closed around them, the two shuttles flew back out of the mountain, bypassing where their ship sat under the cover of the trees. A weight lifted off their shoulders. They hadn’t been seen on the way in or on the way out. Then, as quickly as the Destroyer had appeared, it took off, leaving the skies clear and blue once more. 

Rex lifted them back up above the trees shortly thereafter and pressed the ship into Daro’s upper atmosphere. Ahsoka peered out the transparisteel around her, catching the smallest glimpse of the hidden military base below. She shuddered. The mental images her mind was crafting were unkind. There was nothing she hated more than telling Rex they’d have to return… that they’d have to leave his brothers behind and come back at a later date. 

Although she never knew any Commandos personally, it still hurt, knowing this was happening all over the galaxy. The thought of men so loyal, so good, walking into something they were told to trust… It was barbaric. Ahsoka couldn’t bear to imagine Rex in the same position, had she and Maul not survived as intended. She couldn’t picture her Captain in colorless, scrubbed armor, or without the helmet he’d welded together himself. 

Defying this was now his life’s mission, but it had to be delayed, despite being close enough to touch. 

She looked out amongst the stars, waiting for the ship to turn in the direction of the correct hyperspace lane. Rex punched coordinates into the navicomputer and they made the jump to lightspeed. Except, he’d gone in the opposite direction. 

Ahsoka pressed her fingers up against the cold panels in front of her, “Rex? What are you doing? We’re going the wrong way.”

“We aren’t. The Wheel is back this way.”

“But Ord Mantell is—”

“I know…” Rex interjected, “I can’t take you with me.”

The iciness of the panels, as well as in his words, send chills up her arms, “What do you mean?”

Rex’s brows lowered a fraction, pinching together in remorse, “Ahsoka… I can’t bring you into the Mid-rim, not on a planet like Ord Mantell and especially not around a squad of clones. If it is Echo’s men, like I think it is, you don’t need to be anywhere near them.” Her head began to ache near the nape of her neck as Rex continued explaining his decision. “I know earlier I wanted to go into the base and extract Gregor, I still do, but you’re right. We can’t do it alone and you… I don’t know if their chips are still active — if seeing you will trigger something.”

Her breath fogged the transparent barrier between them in small patches, helping her to regulate her breathing. He was going alone. She’d be alone, or maybe alone with the Martez sisters, but she’d be without Rex. 

“Rex, I can handle myself. Let me help you.”

“I’m sorry, Ahsoka. Please try to understand where I’m coming from on this. I’m not willing to risk it. I can’t take you with me, I… I can’t lose you again,” he admitted quietly, almost to himself. 

The gunner’s seat that had felt like it was closing in on her, seemed to return back to its normal size. Ahsoka processed his words. At first, she thought Rex was referring to when she’d left the Order; how she’d walked away without offering him so much as a goodbye. Perhaps that is what he meant. Why she started becoming so analytical over his words, she didn’t know. Did she want them to mean more? The flutter in her chest answered the question for her. Could Rex have meant instead that he lost her for the duration that his chip was activated? 

Ahsoka pressed her mouth into a thin line. He didn’t want to lose her. Rex just wanted to keep her safe. She meant a great deal to him. He felt a responsibility for her safety still, just as she did with his. 

Maybe it was the new galaxy blinding her, or the amount of time she’d spent in such constant proximity to Rex, but she began noticing small differences in his behavior. Again, that could be attributed to what had encapsulated them, the end of the war forcing them closer, or what she’d needed him to do on Jabiim. Ahsoka leaned back, sure that she’d only convinced herself that he reciprocated the foreign feelings that stirred in her heart. 

“Okay.”

~~~

Rex made three trips around the Martez’s unit to make sure he’d not left anything behind that he might need. Each of his possessions were accounted for, as the majority of them never came off of the ship, but he still felt some discomfort in not being able to check the Silver Angel. He couldn’t find his helmet light. 

“I know you want to get there as soon as possible, Rex, but they may not even be back on Ord Mantell yet,” Ahsoka tried to settle him. They were sitting on the mismatched couches in the living area and Rex’s relentless knee-bouncing had yet to cease. Against her better judgment, Ahsoka placed a hand over the knee, “Relax. There’s no need to rush. You need a plan first and the girls are still on their way. And you and I would both feel better if you slept beforehand.”

Outwardly, Rex sighed, but he didn’t know how he was supposed to relax when Ahsoka’s hand was on him, her fingers wedged between the plates of his armor. He could feel her warmth, her skin flush with the fabric of his blacks. He swallowed and leaned further into the couch, the action only causing him to struggle that much more with her touch. He pressed his knees closer together. “I’m sorry. Just knowing that they’re so close… that we’re actually finding them has me a bit on edge,” he confided.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Ahsoka smiled in an effort to ease his mind, “Maybe you should eat something, too.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment and felt the exhaustion present in his bones. Now that he’d actually stopped for a moment, Rex realized he was rather hungry and hadn’t thought about it until Ahsoka brought it up. The corners of her lips tugged ever higher as she felt the realization wash over him. “Let’s see what they’ve got in the kitchen,” she laughed, standing and leaving him on the sofa. 

Rex allowed his head to lean back as he watched her, finding that the couch was nearly as comfortable as the bed was. No wonder Rafa had opted to sleep there on nights Trace’s snoring got too loud. His eyelids began to grow heavier and he attempted to keep them open, intent on watching Ahsoka prepare a meal — something he’d never seen her do before. It was all so very… domestic… and, as his eyes closed, he decided he didn’t mind it. In fact, he was becoming rather fond of the new roles they’d been forced into.

Next thing he knew, there was a comforting weight on him, pressed into his chest. His eyes were slow to open as he surveyed the room in a sleepy haze. There weren’t as many lights on as before. Something warm and hard was hooked onto his shoulder and he looked down, finding Ahsoka nuzzled into him, her left montral balancing on his collarbone and keeping her upright. Her full lips were parted and pressed against his chest, a small patch of saliva darkening his cloak. Rex couldn’t help but smile and conceal a light laugh.  

A gloved hand cupped Ahsoka’s shoulder and he shook it gently, “‘Soka.”

She mumbled something against him and her eyes squeezed once before they blinked open. Long eyelashes brushed against the brown fabric of his cloak and she lifted her head away. There were nap marks all over her arms and face. Her cheeks flushed crimson as she rubbed the back of her hand; Rex was almost certain her lekku had darkened a shade as well. 

“Sorry. I must’ve passed out at some point,” she said, rubbing her eyes. 

“S’okay,” he whispered and then cleared his throat, “How long was I out for?”

Ahsoka looked off to the side. 

Rex sat up, “How long?”

She pulled one leg under herself and scrunched her nose in thought, “Five standard hours, give or take.”

“Five hours? I’ve slept too long… I — I have to go,” he rushed, suddenly out of breath and attempting to stand. Nimble orange fingers wrapped around his wrist, stilling him. Ahsoka convinced him to take his seat back on the couch with only her eyes. Swallowing, Rex tried to regain his composure. She didn’t even need the Force. With just a look, Ahsoka could compel him to do anything she wanted. He swallowed, finding that he was wound tightly around her finger… and that he wanted to be wrapped around all of them. 

“You still need to eat,” she whispered, “Stay here and I’ll reheat what I made before you dozed off.”

“How long did you sleep?”

“Maybe four of the five hours,” she guessed, sending him a soft smile. 

Rex rubbed his hands over his face, still in disbelief that he’d slept for such an extended period of time. It wasn’t normal for him to sleep for very long at all before the nightmares visited him. He then sat up and was plunged into thought. He’d been nightmare free the entire time. 

It had also been that way the last time Ahsoka had slept so close by. Had she kept his nightmares at bay? Was she getting enough sleep herself?

His thoughts were abandoned as the smell from the kitchen wafted his way, filling his senses. Rex groaned and his feet carried him to where Ahsoka stood behind the bar. He put a few more portions than was necessary on his plate and the Togruta beside him giggled. In the low light of the kitchen, Rex decided he could’ve kissed her then. He could see himself pulling her close and pressing one to the tip of her montral. Rex could picture himself embracing her from behind and swaying with her in the little kitchenette. The adoration in his eyes seemed to not be so subtle, prompting Ahsoka to take a bite of toast and look away. As soon as the food hit tongue, he gave a noise of satisfaction. 

“I’m exiting the bedroom!” Trace called from down the hall minutes later. “Just announcing my presence for no particular reason! I definitely wasn’t sent in here to see if all the moaning was— Oh hey guys,” the younger Martez smirked, leaving up against the food cooling unit. 

Ahsoka grinned and shrugged her shoulders, “Sorry if we disturbed you, Trace. Rex finally woke up and I was getting him something to eat.” She bit her tongue after the words left her mouth, preparing for her words to be twisted into a sexual innuendo. 

“Oh okay,” Trace smiled, glancing at the chrono on her wrist very politely, “Welcome back to the land of the living.” A touch of relief ran through Ahsoka, thankful that her friend had opted not to give her a difficult time. 

Rex was half finished with his meal before he spoke, “You have the droid head?”

Trace’s face contorted, “Yes and no. The head was destroyed actually, but one of the clones copied the contents over to a data rod before it got shot. They were after the head too, for a buyer they knew nothing about. We told them that our employer needed it to help people and Rafa said that the leader guy just gave it to us.”

She grabbed the rod from a mess of factory clothing that sat by the door and placed it in Rex’s palm. He was pleasantly surprised. The mission hadn’t gone as expected, but the sisters had managed to adapt to the obstacles thrown at them. “I’m actually impressed with you girls,” he said to Trace, “Run into any other issues?”

“Well, we couldn’t leave from the original rendezvous, but R7 and the Angel swooped in to save the day. Thanks to Ahsoka for fixing it of course! Oh, and it’s all because the police droids started shooting at us, so I reprogrammed the tactical droid head to command the other droids to take them out! And it worked!”

Rex almost choked on his meal and turned his attention to Ahsoka, who had a knowing look on her face. She’d presumably been awake to hear this story when the sisters arrived back at The Wheel. 

The youngest sister continued on, “It was pretty wizard. We kinda clashed in the beginning, but once we started working together, we made a pretty solid team.” 

That comment caused Rex to think about what it would be like to have a band of brothers at his six again. It was second nature for all clones to rely on one another. He just didn’t want the pain that came with it… the inevitable pain of losing a team member. The idea of clone deaths had always hit him hard, but they struck harder in this new galaxy.  

He thanked Trace for the debrief and for the data rod, to which she smiled and bid the pair goodnight, throwing Ahsoka a thumbs-up as she backed out of the kitchen. 

“We shouldn’t go through the contents of this here. Do you think we can get the data over to your contact?” Rex asked, gathering dishes and removing his gloves to clean them. 

Pressing herself into the counter, Ahsoka agreed, “Yes. I can transfer the frequency over to you and we can sort it out before you leave.”

“So in the next hour or so,” Rex clarified. 

Her expression fell, not yet wanting to be without him, but knowing that duty came first. This was something they’d always done, all throughout the war and ever since they’d known one another. It hadn’t affected her then, but it was like a punch in the gut now. In a way she’d never been able to before, Ahsoka began to sympathize with Anakin, thinking only now how he must’ve felt when he was pulled away from Coruscant… from his wife.. She likened herself to Padmè before ridding herself of the comparison. 

“That should be doable,” she answered, hopping up onto the counter. Her legs swung out of nervousness, waiting for Rex to finish up at the sink. 

He scrubbed their dishes and dried his hands with a pink, floral towel. The small light by the sink and the lower ring’s fluorescents peeked in from the blinds, casting a soft glow onto Rex’s face. He looked so gentle; he was gentle, but in that moment, he didn’t look like a war-hardened soldier. The friend she’d had for so long had grown to be so much more. He looked handsome, enticing, and as if the Force itself had designed him. Ahsoka supposed that in some ways, it had. 

Except, he didn’t look like Jango Fett. He didn’t look like a copy, or like any of the clones she’d come to know over the years. He was Rex and there was only one like him. 

A tanned finger lightly dabbed the healing scar on his head and the fluttering in her chest returned. The pink towel was returned to the sink and Rex stepped closer to where she sat on the countertop. The swinging of her legs ceased altogether as he neared her, his frame towering over her, backlit by the dim lighting. Ahsoka couldn’t help but bite the inside of her lower lip, a desperate attempt at keeping herself still. Her montrals felt warm and her lekku grew hot. Rex pressed his hands onto the countertop, on either side of her. Her pupils were blown wide, locked with his, and intent on being present for every second of this interaction. 

She watched as he swallowed, his throat bobbing. Rex scanned her features and his eyes — darker than normal — lingered on her lips before flicking up to meet her gaze. “I’ll come right back, you know. No matter how this goes, I won’t stay long. I’ll come back to you,” he promised her in a low voice.

Ahsoka inhaled deeply, out of breath and finally allowing herself to reel in from his intoxicating presence. She let her lip go, “I wish I could go with you. But, I agree with your decision. It’s not safe… not yet.”

“When it is, I’m not leaving your side again,” he said firmly. In his pause, that window of opportunistic tension returned. Ahsoka’s hands started to feel clammy. “Now, what do you say we give your Senator friend a call?” His arms fell from their place beside her and she sucked in another breath. Her lekku swayed as she quickly nodded, leaning forward and descending from the counter, following Rex into the guest bedroom. It took her a minute to steady herself on her feet. 

Bail’s comlink was in the bottom of her med pack, underneath Republic-issued ration bars, bacta patches, and beskar armor. She held the device loosely in her hand, knowing everything that came with it. 

Her heart pumped furiously in her chest. There was a time she’d not been so privy to the politics of the war, but once she started paying attention, it was difficult to turn a blind eye to. Everything she’d ever heard Bail Organa fight for in the Senate, was moral and right. It was why he and Padmé were such close friends — they’d held similar views in a galaxy full of credit-blinded politicians. 

Even without her encounter with the Alderaanian Senator at the funeral, one would be foolish to assume that his views aligned with that of the Empire. Of course he opposed it. 

Rex was leaned against the ‘fresher door with his arms crossed when Ahsoka finally turned to him. His jaw flexed and his eyes softened as he held the button down on his own comlink, prepping it to receive Bail’s frequency.

Ahsoka delivered it to him within moments, causing the blinking light on his wrist to change color and then switch off completely. Rex thanked her and Bail’s comm fell limp in her hand, its capabilities feeling both less daunting and yet more so. She returned it to the bottom of her bag. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Meanwhile, Rex had taken a seat on the window ledge, leaving an empty space for her to join him. The air in the room felt too still, almost stale as she took a seat next to him. She much rather preferred the tension that resulted from other moments they’d shared, this kind of tension gave her a bad feeling. 

Her heart would still be in her throat right now from how close Rex had gotten in the kitchen if this wasn’t what followed that interaction. Selfishly, she wondered what kind of conclusion would’ve resulted from it. Surely after a display like that, Rex felt something comparable to what she did. 

Rex noticed her trepidation. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said, dropping his wrist to give her his full attention. “I’d be a fool to not know how you feel about this kind of thing.” Her pulse quickened and Rex continued, “This is… a lot to digest so soon and I understand your position completely.”

All Ahsoka could do was nod and he initiated contact with the Senator. The bedroom grew silent, save for the faint beeping of Rex’s comm. The quiet was so deafening that Ahsoka had no choice but to feel what the Force was telling her. Her fingertips thrummed with the nerves bundling inside of Rex, their hearts beating in unison as his anxiety became her own. She watched as he swallowed thickly and his long fingers twitched. 

Then, the light stopped its pulsing, now illuminating in a steady yellow glow. A scrambled voice responded, “This is a private channel. How did you obtain this frequency?”

“Senator,” Rex started, his voice wavering in urgency, “I was given this frequency by a mutual friend of ours. She saved my life. I believe you can help me.” The Captain’s brows were tightly knitted, waiting for the inevitable rejection as he knew his voice gave him away as a clone. 

There was a hefty pause as, who they could only assume was Bail Organa, processed the answer. He spoke once more, “Who am I speaking with?”

Rex was hesitant to give his name, but reminded himself this was a private channel, “This is Captain Rex, Senator, of the 501st Legion. I survived with Ahsoka Tano. I was with her on Naboo when she ran into you.”

Ahsoka sat in front of him, her legs hanging off the edge of the seat and ankles crossed, one foot tapping in anticipation. She hadn’t been looking at him, but off somewhere, nowhere in particular. She worried her lip, glancing to his comm and then back at him with the utterance of her name. As they waited for Bail’s reply, he reached out and placed a hand over hers, squeezing her fingers softly. The action was a surprise, but not at all unwelcome. He mouthed to her, “It’s okay.”

She believed his words, but didn’t know how she’d ever recover from the feeling of his bare hand over hers. 

“Captain Rex,” came Bail’s voice from the comm, no longer disguised, “I must say I’m relieved to hear that you survived. Is Ahsoka with you?” By the tone of his voice, they could both tell he was disappointed to have not heard from Ahsoka first, and instead hearing from someone she’d shared his contact with. 

The conflicted Togruta opened her mouth and then closed it, the words not coming. She couldn’t find it in her to confirm her presence.

“She’s not, sir,” Rex responded with, offering her an understanding nod, “I was hoping to deliver to you quite a bit of Separatist intel that my team and I were able to get our hands on. There’s a data rod packed with valuable information that I want to offer you. It would be a useful asset in your line of work.”

“I hope you’ll understand my hesitancy, Captain, but would you mind if I asked to see your face?” Bail questioned, keeping his cards close to his vest. All parties involved seemed to know that this was a game of trust.

Rex fetched the holoprojector from one of his pockets, “Not at all, sir.” The skeptical Senator then flickered to life in his palm, blue light waving as the connection was transferred over. Ahsoka pressed herself further into the wall and Rex adjusted as well. 

Bail seemed satisfied and smiled upon seeing a familiar face, “I must ask, why offer me this information?”

“Well, sir,” he began, “I think we both know the answer to that question.”

“Are you sure you're ready to jump back into this, Captain? 

“I’m sure,” Rex answered without hesitation.

The small, blue projection of the Senator crackled as he took time making a decision. He glanced for a minute at the long scar on the side of Rex’s head before responding, “I’ll send you coordinates to a rendezvous point. Ping me when you're ready to meet. I look forward to seeing you, Rex.”

“You too, sir.”

~~~

Rex found his helmet light aboard the Silver Angel and clipped it to his helmet, switching it on and off to check if it worked properly. Ahsoka put a hand over her hip and then crossed her arms, unsure how to conduct herself in this situation. Goodbye was something she and Rex had never done. Everything inside of her body pulled her towards him. She wanted nothing more than to hop into the back of the Y-wing and leave with him for Ord Mantell. She wanted to see Echo again. She wanted to see clones again — alive — after having seen too many dead. Moreover, she wanted to protect Rex from whatever dangers might await him.

He stood in front of her, his helmet tucked under his arm, and a hand went behind his neck. His gaze was unfocused, so far from how it had been just earlier in the kitchen, moving from the crannies of the garage and back to her in a vicious cycle, his usual confidence missing.

A wish of good luck died on Ahsoka’s tongue before she could say it. Her last interaction with Anakin came violently to the forefront of her mind. So much was left unsaid because she thought she was promised tomorrow. Even when she’d had the opportunity to relay a message to her former Master, she’d declined the offer. Too many tomorrows had been taken for granted, too many people — people she’d never get to speak with again. 

Telling Rex goodbye had been unbearable when she’d left the Order behind, so she’d declined that opportunity as well. Goodbye wasn’t something she’d ever been too keen on, and that was before the galaxy did a one-eighty. Rex approached her and she likened herself to Padmé once more. She didn’t like it. 

He didn’t look the way he did when he was normally prepping for a mission. His features weren’t hardened or his mouth in a scowl. The lines in his face were less prominent and his expression was soft, remorseful.

“I want you to know…” he started, “I’ll be back in no less than two standard rotations.”

Rex watched as she lifted her chin a little higher, “I know. Ord Mantell is only a little farther than Daro.”

He shifted awkwardly in front of her, a touch of pink flushing his cheeks, “Being apart from you — Uh, it’s the last thing in the universe I could want right now, but if it means ensuring your protection… I have no choice but to handle this alone.”

Ahsoka’s arms returned to her sides, feeling what Rex was feeling in his chest. Did she dare tell him? Back on Naboo, she promised herself that she would. Was this that time? She held an inner debate, not able to decide if her love for him had evolved into something new.  

She smiled weakly, “Good luck. Not that you’ll need it.”

That relaxed him, causing a very attractive grin to grace his face, “Don’t hesitate to comm me. I’ll rendezvous with you back here if you just say the word.” He pivoted before stopping short, “And don’t forget to scramble your voice.”

She waved him off and laughed, “I know, Rex.”

He sent her a wide smile over his shoulder and made for the ship, tossing his helmet into Ahsoka’s seat. “I still wish you’d take one of these,” he called, fingering the pistol over his right hip. He’d offered to leave her with one after their call with Bail, to which she’d again declined. 

“You’ll need them more than I will,” she called back. A lump formed in her throat as she watched him from the door, a mixture of emotions vibrating inside of her and threatening to bounce free. Something between an embrace and a confession tugged violently at her insides. She hugged her middle and shouted over the low hum of engines beginning to purr to life, “Hurry back!”

Rex threw her a mock salute from the closing canopy of the ship, paired with the same look he’d given her aboard the gunship during their descent onto Mandalore. Her heart seized in her chest as the distance between them grew larger by the second. She continued to watch as the ship backed out into the ring and disappeared from view, no doubt having already made the jump to lightspeed.

[hurricanek8art]

So! Update on my SWTOR woes! I figure putting it in the main tag makes it so everyone that helped me sees it. Thank you everyone for your advice! I was so nervous about asking and you guys are so cool!

I'm planning on just doing Voss and Corellia for now to keep from burning out! This is like attempt three at me making a Jedi Knight because I wanted her to be my Outlander and then I'd freeze up and panic because I wanted it to be "perfect" but y'know what? Perfect's overrated anyway, this is supposed to be fun! I'll keep the other planetary storylines on the backburner in case I need to level up any further, but since I hit level 50 before I was out of chapter one and I thiiiink I hit 54 last night finishing Maelstrom Prison, I don't think I need to worry about my level being too low for a while. 🤣🤣🤣

(side note—thank you so much @greyias I GOT THE STUPID WHATSHISFACE COLONEL GUY WITH THE EYEBEAMS FINALLY 🤣 I do not know why I didn't think of using those crates as a shield before, I am so dumb :P)

You guys were so helpful and nice and I don't know what else to say I'm so bad at this 🥴🤣 but thank you! All of this actually helped me work up the courage to maaaaaaybe share my stuff? At least screenshots and backstory rambles because I have to share it somehow. I can only yammer my brother's ear off about it for so long, and he's the only other person I know IRL that's as into all this as me, so y'know. 🤣 I might make a masterpost to introduce everyone but I gotta gather up all my screenshots first and I'm kinda meh about getting good ones, so :P we'll see. And condense about two and a half/three-ish years of my brain hurtling backstories at me faster than I can write when I'm supposed to be writing other stuff into readable paragraphs. Uh... yeah, maybe don't expect it too soon. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 I'm queuing this for tomorrow because I only got the chance to actually sit down and write this at midnight here, it's been crazy. Thank you again, everyone! I'm so bad at social stuff I don't know what else to say but thanks!

I don't know how to end this, so uh... Here! Unnecessarily adding all my Republic side characters in because I love them and I constantly want to infodump when it's not the time or place! 🤣

Aja Verdona, my Jedi Knight; Reilly Hawkins, my Smuggler; Ataraxia Kestis, my Consular (and my smuggler's twin sister); and Ijaaka Ordo, my Trooper. They have permanently rewired parts of my brain and I love them all dearly even though I accidentally play favorites with Aja. 🥴

[bumpscosity]

Star tours update speculation I’m only posting so I have evidence I thought of it on my own if it shows up on the ride

Opening villains:

It would be cool to have some NON-FORCE USING villains as openers, thrawn is a big one but I feel like tarkan would be fun too

THE EMPEROR WOULD BE SO COOL HE FORCE LIGHTNINGS YOUR SHIP AND-

GREVIOUS OR MAUL

Mixing up the formulas always fun, maybe bad guys are coming to stop you but a hero comes and force pushes the speeder out of there :O

Destinations:

lothal and you get lothcats on your ship and r2 has to get them off also phoenix squad helps you get out of there

second planet space battle destination where you dont immediately leave hyperspace and instead see purgills while you’re jumping and r2 makes you follow them instead so you’re in this big battle and there’s purgills destroying ships and shit

can you tell ive been rewatching rebels

Geonosis/boba fett style space fight but it’s mando trying to kill you instead or maybe he’s helping you idk

pre-empire florum and hondos in his cool ufo actively trying to shoot down your speeder and possibly kill you bc the spy has a dead-or-alive bounty on their head <3

surprised this one hasn’t been done but the droid factory from the prequels would be SO fun

DEATH STAR TRENCH RUN BRING IT BACKKKKKK </3

hear me out on this one but mortis would be so fucking funny considering this ride is like half canon

Battu as both a planet 1 AND planet 2 option both obviously completely different tho

Corellia where you happen to be there while the falcon is there smuggling coaxium for hondo the resistence

Camino, doesn’t even matter when in the timeline however being chased down by clones would be fun

I know the whole joke is that you never make it to endor but how funny would it be if it was a planet 1 option. It’s literally the first place you go however things go so wrong that you go to 2 other planets and NEVER make it back to endor.

I know coruscant is already an option (and I love it) but id LOVE an option for the lower levels, maybe you’re being chased by a bounty hunter like cad bane or fennec or something.

Castilon with the colossus????? I know nobody gives a fuck about resistance but I do <3

Cad bane……

Mandalore, I’m torn because a pre-bombing era where maybe deathwatch is trying to kill you (as they do) would be great but post-bombing is SO pretty with all the crystals. Maybe we can have both if we ask disney nicely. Alternate idea that could also be thrown into either of these you’re in the caves and the mythosaur almost eats you :O

Transmissions:

Ezra my good friend Ezra

Chopper >:) more droid chaos

Hera obviously

Speaking of obvious AHSOKA

I know these holograms are pointing out the resistance/rebel/republic spy but I want hondo to be crammed into as many parts of this ride as possible. He’s buddy-buddy (as buddy-buddy as you can get with hondo) with chewie so maybe that’s something idk

filoni put star tours into a canon piece of media (rebels) so I think it’s only fair star tours returns the favor. plo koon transmission.

captain rex (droid)

captain rex (clone)

galaxys most hated man saw gerrera??? I feel like his transmission would be boring but we need more holograms so bad I can’t keep getting admiral ackbar i love him but I need something else </3

yeager and maybe buckets there too….. resistance needs more rep

Generally more prequel characters would be fun, especially since r2 and 3po know so many of them from tcw

[madelgard]

For the Imperial Kinktober 2023 challenge I wanted to catalogue the fills I've done as a motivation to keep going (it's a lot of writing 😅). All my fills will be posted in a series here as well.

Additionally, there's some fabulous writers posting this year, and I would highly recommend checking out all their stuff! Their fics can be found here:

🎃 @alex-dax's imptober smutstravaganza posted here. 🦇 @shakespeareaddict's stunning contribution here. 🎃 @klarionthewizard's The Imps Roam The Month of Halloween collection here. 🦇 @zeldurz's fics collected here. 🎃 @owlpartytime and Diamond_Dove's collection here. 🦇 @nerdypipsqueak's collection here.

Feedback is the most encouraging possible thing to keep motivated to write, so if you've read and enjoyed any of the fics I'd love to hear about it (and I know the rest of the authors posting would love to hear it, too)! If you aren't sure how to start commenting on/engaging with fics, there's a helpful guide posted here by @alex-dax.

Anyway, happy Imptober and happy reading 🦇🎃

Week One: October 1st - October 7th

1. At First, At Last (Maiden Voyage: Virginity | Touch-Starved | First Time)

Tiaan has never had sex. But Conan is worldly, and Conan knows things. It’s only natural Tiaan asks him what it’s like.

Motti/Jerjerrod. Explicit, 6,791 words.

2. Moonstone Under Blacklight (Unknown Lifeforms: Alien Anatomy | Xenophilia)

After a planetside meeting at Corellian Engineering Corporation goes badly, Thrawn unwinds with a trip to the Xenodistrict. It’s the place to be, if you’re a non-Human looking for a good time with fellow aliens. Or if you’re a Human looking for a good time with non-Humans. And it's the last place in the galaxy Thrawn expects to bump into a certain engineer who'd so recently gotten under his skin. Thrawn/Jerjerrod WIP. Teen (for part 1 - part 2 forthcoming w/ rating increase), 7,665 words.

3. In Rippling Water (Survey Corps: Body Worship | New Horizons)

During a post-workout shower, Motti reflects on Thrawn’s particular need for touch. Motti/Thrawn, Motti/Jerjerrod/Thrawn (referenced). Mature, 850 words.

4. Rapture and Recapture (Rivalry: Jealousy | Mate-Guarding)

At Corellia Naval Academy, Tiaan catches the eye of another cadet. Conan takes it personally. Motti/Jerjerrod. Explicit, 10,310 words.

5. War of Attrition (Inter-Service Relations: Army vs. Navy)

When the turbolift breaks, Major Veers finds himself stuck with his least favorite pair of Joint Chiefs. Motti/Jerjerrod, Veers POV. Teen, 4,119 words.

6. Force My Hand (That’s Not How the Force Works! : Force Shenanigans)

The invisible touch slipped under the flap of Motti’s tunic, unlatching the front of his trousers. A substantial throb had settled in Jerjerrod’s voice. “You really do have an extraordinary mouth, Conan.” Or: Jerjerrod is Force Sensitive, and uses his gifts to multitask in a very productive manner. Motti/Jerjerrod. Explicit, 2,997 words.

7. The Gordian Knot is Threaded with Silk (Nautical Knots: Shibari | Restraints)

Major Veers always thought ropework was a respectable naval skill, but he’s never seen it used on a person. Not like this. Tangled up in a trap of his own making, Rear Admiral Jerjerrod is in dire need of his rescue. Veers/Jerjerrod. Teen, 4,066 words.