#your clones are very impressive you must be so proud

[kaminokatie]

Simple Pleasures || Jango Fett

Synopsis - You and your Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, head to Kamino in search for the bounty hunter responsible for the attempted assassination of Senator Amidala.

Warnings - NSFW.

Word Count - 2.3k.

{Caffeinate Me}

You had come to Kamino with your Jedi Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, in search of a bounty hunter that had been contracted to assistante Senator Padme Amidala on Coruscant. You and Obi-Wan had learnt of the creation of a Clone Army, ordered by Master Sipho-Dyas ten years prior, and cloned from a bounty hunter named Jango Fett. “Where is this bounty hunter now?” Obi-Wan asked the Kaminoan Prime Minister as you walked down the corridor of the facility. 

“We keep him here,” the Prime Minister replied. Obi-Wan gave you a knowing look. 

“I would very much like to meet this Jango Fett,” Obi-Wan spoke to the Prime Minister. 

The meeting was arranged quickly. So quickly you and Obi-Wan found yourself outside of Jango’s quarters after mere minutes. You shifted uncomfortably on your feet as you waited for the door to open: this had to be the man responsible for the assassination attempt on Senator Amidala, you were sure of it. When the door opened, a young boy answered. His eyes darted towards your form almost immediately as the Kaminoan began to speak, “Boba, is your father here?”  

“Yep,” the boy, Boba, replied with a nod. 

“May we see him?”

“Sure,” he said, looking you and Obi-Wan up and down cautiously. Boba stepped aside whilst shouting to his father that he had some visitors. 

“Be mindful of your surroundings,” Obi-Wan whispered to you as you both stepped inside. You nodded, giving your Master a reassuring smile. Wrapping your robes around you, you took in the surroundings of the quarters: everything was painted white, it was almost blinding, and although it was small, it seemed comfortable enough. 

After a few minutes, a man stepped out of the side room rolling up his sleeves. “Jango, welcome back. Was your trip productive?” The Kaminoan asked him. 

“Fairly,” he responded, never breaking eye contact with Obi-Wan. 

“This is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the Kaminoan introduced before pointing to you, “and Padawan Y/N L/N.” Jango’s eyes fluttered to your form, a soft smile graced his lips. “They’ve come to check on our progress.” 

“Your clones are very impressive,” Obi-Wan started. 

Sensing the conflict between the two males, you decided to jump in. “You must be very proud,” you said to Jango. There was no denying that this man was handsome, extremely handsome. It made your stomach flutter slightly as he continued to ignore Obi-Wan’s glaring stare and kept his eyes focused on you. 

“I’m just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe,” Jango replied, holding his hand out to you. You took it and immediately he pressed his lips to the back of your hand causing your heartbeat to speed up slightly. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at Jango’s actions. “Ever made your way as far into the interior as Coruscant?” 

Jango let go of your hand and looked to your Master, expression now deadpan. “Once or twice.” 

“Recently?” Obi-Wan asked as he raised an eyebrow. 

“Possibly,” Jango replied. 

You, the Kaminoan and the child named Boba watched as the two men had a silent standoff. “You must know Master Sipho-Dyas,” Obi-Wan said. 

Jango walked towards Boba, speaking to him in a language unfamiliar to you. The boy nodded and walked off before Jango turned his attention back to you and Obi-Wan, shrugging. “Master who?” He asked, eyes wandering over your body. He wasn’t exactly being very subtle and the whole ordeal was getting to your Master.

“Sipho-Dyas,” Obi-Wan repeated. “Is he not the one who hired you for this job?” 

“Never heard of him,” Jango replied, taking a step towards Obi-Wan. 

“Really?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. 

The bounty hunter smiled at you, a seductive type of smile that had your heart skipping a few beats. “I was recruited by a man called Tyrannus,” he opened up to you. After a few seconds of silence, Jango spoke again, this time asking a question to the both of you. “Do you like your army?”

“We look forward to seeing them in action,” you replied before Obi-Wan could open his mouth. 

“They’ll do their job well,” his smile remained as he stared at you. “I’ll guarantee that.” 

“Thank you for your time, Mr Fett,” you said, trying to signal to Obi-Wan that you should probably leave. 

“The pleasure was all mine,” he whispered huskily. He took your hand once more and kissed it again, letting his eyes flutter closed for a brief second. You allowed his lips to linger for a moment before you pulled your hand away. “Perhaps, we will meet again.” 

“Don’t count on it,” Obi-Wan muttered under his breath, clearly frustrated by Jango’s advances on you. 

“I would like that,” you whispered breathlessly before coming to your senses. You shook your head lightly as if trying to force yourself out of the obvious trance the man before you had put you in as Obi-Wan grasped your arm and led you out of the room. As you returned to the ship you had arrived in, Obi-Wan growled under his breath. “What’s wrong Master?” You asked as you stood in the pouring Kaminoan rain, staring at your Master with confusion. 

“You are a Jedi, Y/N,” Obi-Wan reminded you. “Attachments are forbidden.” 

“Attachments?” 

“Don’t think I didn’t see the moves that that bounty hunter was putting on you,” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes as he wrapped his robes further around his body in a futile attempt to protect him from the harsh conditions outdoors.  

“He was just being polite,” you replied, following suit and wrapping your robes around yourself. 

Obi-Wan hummed in disagreement as he began a transmission to the Jedi Council. He reported what you had learnt about the Clone Army and Jango Fett, but you weren’t listening. You felt a pull to go back inside, and so you slipped away from your Master while he continued the transmission. You found yourself back outside of Jango’s quarters, pressing the bell-like button and waiting for someone to answer the door. It was Boba. “Dad, that Jedi lady is back!” He called, stepping aside to let you enter. 

“Thank you, Boba,” you smiled politely at the young boy. 

Jango walked out of the side room with a grin on his face. “I’m no Jedi, but I knew you’d come back. Where is your Master?” He nodded towards his son who left the quarters quickly, closing the door behind him. 

“Outside,” you responded, looking down at your feet and kicking aimlessly at the white floor beneath you. 

“Why is it you’ve returned to my home?” Jango asked as he stepped closer to you. 

“I-I don’t know,” you said honestly. Your breath caught in your throat as the bounty hunter pulled you close to his body, the scent of soap radiating off his skin had you dizzy. 

“I think you do,” he grinned, cupping your face with his hands. His eyes searched yours as he spoke. “What’s it like not being able to indulge in the simple pleasures of life?”

“Such as?” You asked as you let your vision cast down to his lips. 

“Such as this,” he responded before kissing you softly. Your breath hitched at the sudden contact but you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away. You allowed the rough bounty hunter to kiss you deeper, and found yourself wrapping your arms instinctively around his neck, bringing him as close to your own body as possible. “You’re a good kisser, for a Jedi.” 

“Not my first kiss,” you responded, your nose bumping against his as you kissed him again. 

Jango let out a soft noise as your lips connected once again. “So you do indulge in life's simple pleasures.” You just nodded as Jango’s hands moved to remove your robes, unwrapping the wet cloth from around your body and letting it fall to the floor with a silent thud. He bit your bottom lip before poking his tongue into your mouth, wet muscle fighting with your own for dominance. You moaned into his mouth, giving in and letting his tongue do whatever it wanted. This pleased Jango whose hands were working on peeling your tunic off your torso, throwing it into the corner of the room for you to find when he was finished with you. Anticipation shivered up your spine as the bounty hunter pushed you back onto the sofa, finally breaking apart the kiss and looking down at you as he took off his own shirt. “What would your Master say if he saw you right now?” He asked teasingly as he pounced on top of you, lips attaching to your neck and sucking on the supple flesh. 

“Certainly wouldn't be happy,” you whispered, letting your eyes flutter closed as you relished in the sensation of his soft lips against your skin. 

“Then let’s make this quick, hm?” 

You nodded and looked down to see Jango unbuttoning his trousers, pulling his cock out of his boxers rapidly. He was thick, large and painfully hard, tanned, but the tip was blushing furiously and leaking translucent pre-cum. A moan left your lips at the sight that you almost didn’t register the feeling of your own trousers and underwear being pulled down to your ankles. “What about your son?” You asked, suddenly coming to your senses and looking around the room. 

“He’ll be gone for a while,” Jango replied, kissing you again as he slipped his cock up your slit. You were already wet with anticipation from the idea of fucking a stranger, and a dangerous stranger nonetheless: a stranger thought to be involved in the plot to assassinate a Senator. Jango’s tip prodded at your entrance before he pushed himself inside of you, stretching you deliciously. “Ah, osik,” he hissed through gritted teeth. Your eyes rolled back into your head as Jango began to move quickly against you, hips slapping against your own as he pushed your knees up to your chest forcing his cock deeper inside of you. “You’re so tight Jedi,” he groaned, lolling his head back. 

“Call me Y/N,” you whimpered, biting your bottom lip, stopping a loud moan from escaping your mouth. 

“Fair enough Y/N,” he replied, nodding slightly. The sound of your name slipping past his lips had your pussy fluttering around his cock. A string of curse words in a different language left Jango’s lips as he continued to rut against you. Your fingernails dragged down his back, scratching scars that were no doubt a result of missions he had been on in the past. 

“Jango,” you cried out, arching your back slightly. 

“So kriffing pretty,” he groaned, smashing his lips against yours to quieten down the moans leaving his lips. “Gonna cum pretty? I can feel you tensing around me.” His words had you tumbling over the edge, orgasm washing over you like the Kaminoan waves. Your legs, that were still bunched up against your chest, shook violently as you came with a cry. Jango chuckled and his pace sped up, desperately chasing his own release. “You know what?” He asked, not giving you a second to respond before continuing. “I’ve wanted another child for a while. Maybe you could give me one.” You couldn’t even process his words as he fucked you dumb, not caring about the consequences this little rendezvous could lead to. You felt Jango’s cock twitch inside of you against your velvety walls, moaning your name loudly as he spilled himself inside of you violently and only when you had finished milking him dry did he stop moving his hips. You were breathing rapidly as he pulled out of you, body shaking intensely from the pleasure you had experienced. “You okay?” He asked looking down at you, eyes softening slightly as they met yours. 

All you could do was nod as you attempted to regain your breath, allowing your body to go limp as the bounty hunter sat off of you and onto the sofa next to you. The silence in the room was deafening as you both came down from your highs. “I…” You started, standing up and grabbing your clothes off the floor and dressing yourself. “I should get going before my Master comes here looking for me.” 

Jango frowned but nodded in understanding. “You Jedi and your rules.”

“We aren’t stupid though,” you said, giving him a silent warning that Obi-Wan was onto what he had been contracted to do. 

You were surprised when Jango pulled you back down for a passionate, sensual kiss. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, Y/N.” 

“I’m sure we will,” you replied into his lips. “Sooner than you might think.” You didn’t know his fate, but you knew that it wasn’t going to be favourable but alas Jango seemed confident. 

He patted your arse softly, “you better go.” 

“Tell Boba I said goodbye,” you whispered as you walked towards the door. You turned slightly to look back at the bounty hunter who was still naked and sitting on the sofa. 

“I will.”

You nodded at him before exiting Jango’s quarters and heading back to the land strip to meet up with Obi-Wan who was waiting for you in the rain, arms folded across his chest. “And where did you go?” He asked through gritted teeth. 

“To the bathroom,” you replied quickly, too quickly. “Lady problems.”

“The Council believes we should go after the bounty hunter,” Obi-Wan said, ignoring your blatant lie. “Now.” 

“Now?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows. Obi-Wan just nodded and ran off back into the Kaminoan facility. You ran after him, feeling Jango’s spend trickle down your thigh with each movement you made, a faint reminder of what you had done behind your Master’s back, your friend Senator Amidala and the Republic. You’d pay with the consequences though. You sensed it, although, you weren’t exactly sure as to what they would be just yet.

[generalsolae]

Hi! This is just another small thing where my OC starts to form her clone battalion. Hope you enjoy!!

(She is so beatiful)

Word count: 919 Wornings: none

The 777th

She didi it, Kayra finally passed the trials, making her master really proud. She was only eighteen years old, it was rare for someone so young to become Jedi Knight, but the council did recognized her skills. In addition, they did needed more knight, that is probably why both her and Anakin were knighted so early, even if she was a couple of years older than he was. The war was becoming harder and harder every day, more and more clones were dying on the front lines and Kayra hated it. She wanted to choose her own unit, she knew no Jedi did that but she figured that giving it a shot and going to ask the chancellor the permission to do that couldn’t hurt anybody and, with her surprise, he granted her that permission. She did not exactly liked the emperor, she felt something strange about him, even if she could not figure what it was. He surely did gave her chills of uneasiness.

“Oh, general Solae. Welcome.” Jedi master Shaak-Ti greeted her, leading her inside Tipoca City as she crossed her arms behind her back. Kayra smiled at her, bowing her head as a sign of respect “Master.” “I heard you insisted much on choosing your troops.” She said as she led her to the observation room of the training room, “I can’t help but wonder why?” Kayra followed her, crossing her arms behind her back too as she look at Shaak Ti “I don’t want the responsibility to lead an entire legion as the chancellor wanted me to. I prefer to know the abilities of the troopers to reduce the losses to a minimum rate; I value the lives of the clones, even if most don’t.” Shaak Ti nodded, moving her gaze to the window to inspect the training clones “On that we agree, general Solae.” Kayra smiled “Call me Kayra, I hate unnecessary formalities.” She said, making Shaak Ti make a small smile. The room was small, its metallic colors and its bright white light were almost hurting Kayra’s eyes, which ere used to the warm lights of the Jedi temple.

When Kayra turned to look out of the window, at the clones training, she had to take a second look. There were three clone troopers and what appeared to be… four female clone trooper “Are those… female troopers?” Shaak Ti nodded “This is a squad of defective clones, coming from a different line of clones. The kaminoans used a second donor, a volunteer, to experiment cloning theories so they could use them on the first line to make new clone commando and more efficient troops.” Kayra was mostly impressed “who is the donor?” “A human male named Rhea Cordua. We don’t know why he volunteer to do this, he passed a year ago.” Kayra nodded “Tell me more about this clones.” The girl was curious about these clones, to say at least. She had always find clones fascinating: they were all physically the same and yet so different from one another. “Well, they are CT/2-99s and CT/F2-99s. Each of their mutations brought a defective trait in them. Cadet CT/F2-9904, for example” She said pointing at the clone “has exceptional stealth and strategy skills, she always find a solution to what could seems desperate solutions, but she also is too emotional, she attaches too easily and has some problems on following orders. In addition, her growing chamber had a leak, making her… very hyperactive.” Kayra scoffed a little chuckle “I’m already starting to like her,” She said watching as she took out many droids with her sisters and brothers with her two blasters “and she is skilled indeed, what’s her name?” “They call her Joy, and I must say that name quite fit her.”

The girl kept inspecting the clones, each one of them was essential for the other; they worked perfectly together, combining all of their attacks. But suddenly one of them rushed into battle, getting himself knocked out by one droid, his brother quickly bringing him safe, making the girl hiss, imagining the clone’s pain after that smack “Ouch, who’s that?” “They call him Scar, CT/2-9901” Shaak Ti answered, “He’s the first experimental clone of this line. He is very agile and good with almost any kind of combat styles and weapon and has heightened senses, but is also reckless and very impatient. That caused him to perish in many battles, that’s why they call him Scar.” Kayra nodded, seeing one of his brother taking off his helmet, exposing his scarred face. “How many of this second line there are?” “Thirteen CT/2-99s and eight CT/F2-99s.” Shaak Ti answered, “They haven’t been assigned to any legion since they are considered defective” Kayra turned her full body to look at her “I’ll take them. I guess Clone Force 99 is to stay a special force.” Shaak-Ti nodded “Yes, they do. The chancellor insisted that you took at least a full battalion.” “Then I’ll take them and six hundred regular CTs” Kayra said, starting to leave the room and walking through the halls of the kaminoan facility. Shaak Ti nodded “Very well then. Come, we have many other squads to examine.” She said, leading her to another training room. “What will my battalion be called?” She asked, looking out of the window, inspecting a new squad of clones. Shaak Ti turned to look at her with a small smile “It will be the 777th attack battalion.” “Oh, I like the sound of that.”

[shrinkthisviolet]

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now? Of Obi-Wan?

Well I ofc first saw him in Episode 1, because my dad insisted that we watch the movies in numerical order. So...my first impression of him was that he was kinda charming and sassy 😂 which...I guess I'm not totally wrong there, because he definitely didn't lose his sass (*cue the "Hello There" scene from ROTS and also every scene in TCW where he teases Ventress and Dooku, among others*). I knew he'd be important later in the story, though I didn't know exactly how yet (I didn't know much about Star Wars, just the very basics). Still, I was on board.

Now, I find him an interesting character because of his nuance and inherent tragedy. He takes on this apprentice that was never meant to be his, after Trials that were nothing like he expected*, and it's challenging. Of course it is. His apprentice is a former slave, and Obi-Wan is at a loss, because they don't exactly have much experience with training former slaves. They have records, and he probably reads those cover to cover, but that's still just words on a page, and Anakin is so unique anyway. A beacon in the Force, so strongly loving his mother who's still left on Tatooine as a slave...Anakin is so used to getting attached because he has so little, while Obi-Wan is used to detaching and doing what's required of him. It's why they have a contentious relationship at times—loving, there's no doubt, but also contentious.

Ahsoka helps. I haven't finished Clone Wars, so I don't know the full details of everything, but from what I can tell, she's a great addition to the trio and they're at their strongest when they're all together ("we'll be fine as long as we stay together" oh Obi-Wan, how right you were). But then Ahsoka leaves the Jedi Order after a messy trial, the details of which I ofc don't know yet (haven't gotten that far in TCW!).

Then the manipulations Palpatine has exercised for 13 years pay off when Anakin is 22-23—due to fear for his wife and fear to confide in any of the Jedi, he tries to save her life and instead falls to the Dark Side, betraying Obi-Wan and all the Jedi when he slaughters them (some of them escape into hiding, but not many). It must hit Obi-Wan especially hard, given that Anakin in essentially the closest thing to a child he's had up to this point, whom he'd come to see as a brother after Anakin's Knighting. It's a pain so deep...and we know from ROTS that Obi-Wan is horrified by the idea of killing him...and in the end, he can't do it. Arguably, he condemns Anakin/Vader to a worse fate...and Vader is born out of that pain, while Padmé dies giving birth to her twins (triplets, in my AU, but ofc twins in canon).

And then Obi-Wan loses hope, for 10 years, until a little Organa/Skywalker girl makes him smile—two, in my AU, and raising Lucy is yet another challenge for him because of how much like Anakin she is, and how he's really, really trying to raise her better, trying to be more open and communicative with her and not restrict her too much, but also wanting to keep her powers under wraps so that they won't be found. He doesn't want Vader to find her...especially not with Luke being so close. He can't bear to lose either of them, especially this girl he calls daughter. There's a reason the Lucy Kenobi angle is what finally got Lucy to stick as an OC—it adds so much depth to Obi-Wan to have to raise a child on Tatooine.

And then when he's training them, particuarly Luke, he says to be prepared to kill Vader if it comes down to that. His worldview is such that he sees no other option. You can almost imagine he's talking to himself, on Mustafar, telling himself to kill Vader before he can become more of a threat than he already has. Perhaps it's a regret he carries. Luke, of course, finds another way—he always does. I imagine Obi-Wan and Yoda are both proud of him for it. In that way, I think Obi-Wan is able to finally find peace.

I just really appreciate his nuance as a character, the "infinite sadness" he carries within him. He makes mistakes, but that's a human thing, and even his flaws make him compelling. No person is perfect...no character is either. But they don't need to be! He's the mentor character, twice over, and though he doesn't succeed the first time, he succeeds the second time. There's something so poignant in that, I think.

*I do believe he was ready for the Trials, no matter what some people say - he wouldn't have been allowed to take them otherwise. But to do them without Qui-Gon, and for the ceremony to happen so quickly that he can request to take on Anakin within a day or two...they were definitely rushed and probably disappointing to him tbh.

character ask game!

[morphofan]

Travels With Tech to The Blood Connection

"Today I accompany my assistant on her visit to a local establishment called 'The Blood Connection,' where she intends to make a donation of her platelets and plasma."

TW: medical blood

"Here is an advert offering a 'QR Code' one may scan to learn more about this process of donating."

(From Lisa: This is from a few months back, so the offer listed on this placard may not be entirely accurate.)

"You may scan this 'QR Code' with your device of choice in order to peruse the instructions on how to make your own appointment."

"One need not be a Clone Trooper to be someone's hero!"

"One donation of platelets can save up to three lives. While Whole Blood remains viable for six months, platelets must be used within three days, hence the constant need."

"This is the machine that will withdraw the whole blood, separate out the required elements, and feed the unused portion back into the donor. It is a process called 'apheresis.' Fascinating."

"I am most impressed by the complexity of this contraption, considering how primitive I have found other aspects of this planet."

"At the first sight of blood, Wrecker has passed out on the floor, so he will unfortunately not be featured in this particular photo journal."

"They offer these large, malleable spheres for the donor to squeeze, to facilitate the speed of the donation process and maintain the proper pressure levels."

"What? Well, yes, obviously it is a blue ball. Yes, it is currently between my legs. Why do you find that humorous?

"I will never understand your humor, ma'am. Here, take the ball, please. It does me no good at all."

"There are many people donating, today. That is heartening. But it is very chilly in here, is it not?"

"Oh... oh my.... This is sufficiently warm, ma'am, thank you for your hospitality."

"Pay no attention to me. Concentrate on your donation.

"For future reference: I prefer this, to riding on your hat, ma'am."

"Are you feeling well? May I offer you a beverage or a warmed blanket?"

"I know not if it makes a difference, but I would like to say that I am proud of you."

"Hang in there.... You are nearly finished.

"This has been a most novel experience for me.... As a clone, we had no shortage of donors when we had need of blood."

"This is my favorite part of the donation process. Gratuitous 'snacks.' What wonderful 'snacks' they have on this planet. I am partial to these 'fruit gummies,' myself."

"Wrecker will be sorry he missed this. Is he still on the floor?"

"My assistant suggests you, too, look into donating blood/platelets/plasma! This planet has not yet mastered the creation of synthetic vital fluids, so your donations shall be most appreciated!"

[lilihasabadweek]

“Look at this we’ve got Ben Kenobi and Anakin and everything,” he shakes his head in awe. “Crazy fun. Okay George- what ‘m I doing?”

“Well you know the scene with Jango on Kamino?”

Tem huffs a laugh. “Yeah of course. His little debut aside from the uh… nasty little dart trick on Coruscant. Yes I know that one.” He moves to the little marker, “I can speak to you or to Ewan, whichever you prefer.”

“Ewan will be fine,” George nods. “He’s gonna read the lines back too.”

“Sure, sure,” Tem grins at Ewan, “alright big man. Start us off.”

Ewan grins back, then schools his features into character as Tem does the same. He notices the stillness Tem takes on, still calm and almost gentle but observant as he clasps his hands in front of him.

“Your clones are very impressive, Jango, you must be very proud,” Ewan takes on Ben’s small, polite yet sarcastic smile.

Tem tilts his head a little, “I’m just a simple man trying to make my way in the universe,” he says simply.

“Ever made your way as far into the interior as Coruscant?” Ewan raises a brow.

Tem hums in thought, “Once or twice.”

“Recently?”

“Possibly.”

“Then you must know Master Sifo-Diyas,” Ewan presses.

Tem calmly turns his entire body - a sign that he doesn’t need to square up with a Jedi - to address his son next to him, switching to Fett Code. “Boba. Pack your things. We’re leaving.”

He turns back to Ewan, furrowing his brows, “Master who?”

“Is Master Sifo-Diyas not the Jedi that hired you?”

Tem’s eyes narrow slightly. “Never heard of him. I was recruited by a man called Tyranus.”

“Curious.”

He waits a moment, “Do you like your army?”

“I look forward to seeing them in action,” Ewan responds calmly, though the tension is clearly there.

Tem gives him the slightest of smirks. “They’ll do their job well. I’ll make sure of that.”

Ewan nods and looks over to George, raising his brows. “End there?”

“Yeah sure!” George nods quickly, giving them both a grin. “Excellent. How did that feel?”

“Felt great actually,” Tem grins back. “Kinda obsessed with this Jango fellow.”

“He’s so cool, huh?” I laugh, “the Mandalorians are the second coolest group, in my opinion.”

[reallybadrebelsheadcanons]

I’m rewatching Clone Wars for the first time in ages and I keep thinking ‘it must be weird for the clones to have a conversation with someone who looks just like them’, then I remember:

I share my face with three other people.

[three-fold-symmetry]

You're clones are most impressive, you must be very proud! I especially love the way you manage to capture their facial features just perfectly! So keep on doing what you love, beautiful ❤

I'm just a simple artist trying to make my way in the universe.

Thank you so much for the kind words!! 🧡 Please have this doodle of Rex, I thought he'd be the only right choice given your username! :)

[swbumblebee]

Jedi General Anakin Skywalker rubbed his hands together in anticipation, focussed intently on the holoscreen in front of the small crowd in the mess hall. Temporarily turned into a viewing lounge for the Boonta Eve Classic, being broadcast via a shaky and (probably) less-than-legitimate signal straight from Tattooine to The Resolute.

It was a big deal race, apparently. And this year Generals Skywalker and Kenobi had decided to involve their troops in their annual tradition of watching the race together, and shouting at the screen.

“Ropo’s going to make it this time, I can feel it! Three wins already this season, it’s in the bag.”

“I don’t know, I wouldn’t count Mandip out just yet. She’s been steadily getting faster, one mistake on Ropo’s part and it’s hers.”

“Master, may I remind you I’m the podracing expert, having actually done it before? I’m telling you, it’ll be Ropo.”

“Oh please I’ve spent the fifteen years watching and hearing about it. I lost an entire room to podracing posters and books. I am now just as expert as you my overconfident friend.”

The troops looked bemusedly at each other as Commander Tano shook her head disparagingly.

“Overconfident? Well fine, care to make it interesting?”

There was a collective intake of breath. Commander Cody looked like he couldn’t decide weather to tell them off or not.

There was a glint in General Kenobi’s eye.

“Always. Stakes?”

General Skwalker paused for a moment, thinking.

A shinny slowly raised his hand in suggestion before it was quickly slapped back down with a curse by a worried Captain.

A smile was forming on the younger General’s face.

“Loser has to answer his comm with his full titles for a week.”

Several relieved smiles broke out. Easy! That was positively tame compared to five-hundred push ups or a 30 minute handstand.

Though General Kenobi frowned.

“No that’s not fair, my titles are way more pretentious than yours” He paused, letting out a surprisingly evil smile “You have to do yours, but you have to add you’re the chosen one” he said, barely holding in a laugh.

General Skywalker made a face. But stuck out his hand all the same.

“Deal.”

“Excellent.”

“I actually think Mosslov is going to win you know” Commander Tano piped up. There was an awkward silence as both her Master’s turned to her with varying pitying looks.

“…Sure, I mean she might?”

“Of course that’s always a possibility. Anything can happen”

The Commander rolled her eyes and folded her arms with a huff.

---

Ninety minutes later and she was singing a verydifferent tune. And dancing in victory.

“I can’t believe it, she just came out of nowhere!”

“Oh my gods Ahsoka. How did you know? What were the odds?”

“Well obviously you guys aren’t as expert as you thought.” The teenager was holding none of her smugness back. She stood in front of her despairing Masters. “Sooo technically since both of you lost that means…”

“No way”

“It doesn’t – doesn’t count”

The Commander looked around at the surrounding troops, raising her eyebrows in a plea for back up.

“I believe it does actually Sirs”

“Respectfully Generals I agree”

The identical glares levelled at Commanders Rex and Cody were nothing short of impressive. But with the help of Commander Tano’s huge smile they remained steadfast where lesser men would have faltered.

At that moment, a very familiar chirping sound filled the air.

General Skywalker pulled out his com and flipped it open, an action born of pure muscle memory he did a hundred times a day.

“Skywalker”

The air seemed to freeze as his eyes widened and he realised what he’d done. He scowled at his student.

“I’m - I’m a Jedi Knight and a General.”

General Kenobi cleared his throat pointedly.

The unfortunate man visibly clenched his teeth.

“And the chosen one.” He ground out to several muffled guffaws.

There was silence whilst they were unable to hear what the other person was saying before Skywalker cleared his throat awkwardly and cringed.

“Yep I’m just…really proud of it.”

He had to leave the room to be heard over the laughter.

It was going to be a fun week.

----

Chirp chirp

All nearby activity stopped, and the sound of his communicator going off was met with a loud sigh from General Kenobi.

“High General Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Commander of the Third Systems Army. How may I help?”

His confident and professional tone was rather undercut by the fact that the tips of his ears were turning pink.

He closed the communicator shortly afterwards .

“He’s always thought I’m a twit anyway” he said with a sheepish shrug.

----

Chirp chirp

“Jedi Knight and General Anakin Skywalker, I’m The Chosen One what can I do for you?”

General Kenobi got a vicious elbow in the ribs for his snort.

“…”

“No it just means…never mind. I’ll get right on it.”

----

Chirp chirp

“Jedi Master and High General Obi-Wan Kenobi, Commander of the Third Systems Army. How may I help?

“…”

“Yes I just thought…thought I’d like to remind you?”

----

Chirp chirp

“Hello this is The Chosen One, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and General. What do you need?”

“…”

“Hello? Is anyone there? Oh they must have been cut off”

----

Chirp chirp

All the bridge Clones turned as one, eagerly awaiting another bought of awkwardness for their C.Os, only to be disappointed when Commander Tano fished her communicator out of her belt.

“Tano”

“…”

“Yes Master they’re both right here”

She grinned and gestured at her two Masters, putting the call on speaker. General Kenobi grimaced and shook his head as he complied.

“Hello yes this is High General and Commander of the Third Systems Army, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi”

“And The Chosen One, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and General.” General Skywalker was making strangling motions at his beloved student.

There was a long, pregnant moment of silence on the other end of the call, before a heavy sigh came through.

“You two are so weird.” The flat, unimpressed voice of Mace Windu declared.

The Generals looked at each other. General Kenobi shrugged at his friend as the other man started smiling.

“Yes Master” they responded in unison.

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

No future with a boy like this - F.W

Summary: Fred disappoints you more than once, giving you no other choice, you had to let him go.

Warnings: ANGSTY, cursing, implied sex very briefly, FLUFF AT THE END

A/N: my firsts time writing angst and I really don’t know if i was overdramatic or not enough dramatic lol please give feedback

April- 1996 - Hogwarts

Y/n was waiting on the tribune next to the quidditch field. It was already getting darker now. An orange glow spreading over the field. The sun was going down already. She was sitting there for two hours now.

She promised herself she would stop waiting after an hour but here she was, still hoping he would show up.

It was her birthday, it was her fucking birthday. And this wasn't the first time. It started with little dates, he forgot them sometimes but y/n didn't mind, he made it up every time.

He hurt her by forgetting those things all the time. But it was Fred Weasley after all. You knew this was coming when he became your boyfriend. You even got used to it. He was always busy. That's just how Fred is.

And here she was again. Trying to not let the tears of disappointment fall down on her cheeks. She felt miserable and decided to finally call it a night, going back to her dorm. She was exhausted.

Walking down the corridors, she saw Fred. He was just sitting there, laughing with George. That's when it was clear, he wasn't even late, he just forgot.

He saw her and smiled, walking her way, but she turned on her heals immediately. "Y/n!" he screamed confused. He followed her and his long legs made it easy to catch up.

She didn't answer, finding it much harder to hold back her tears now. "Y/n? Hey? What's wrong?" he asked.

Y/n stopped abruptly. "You really don't know?" she hissed.

A confused look formed on his face. "What do you mean"? he stammered. A tear fell down her cheek and his face was full of guilt now, without even knowing what he did.

"You forgot", you snapped, "again!"

He was thinking for one minute. It really took him one minute. What was wrong with that boy?!

Suddenly a wave of realization hit him. "Fuck." he squealed.

Y/n didn't need this shit right now, and ran away before he could say something. Making him run after her. "NO y/n wait! I'm so sorry, I won't forget next time, I promise, I'm so sorry" he begged while grabbing her arm, pulling her closer to him.

"You say that every time Fred" she sighed, another tear fell down.

It broke Fred's heart. It really did. He didn't mean to forget this things, he didn't want to hurt you. His mind was just so full all the time. So many things were going on in those brains of his.

"I mean it, I'm sorry, I love you y/n" he assured.

And she fell for it, like she always did. It happened every time. Fred said things that made her melt, and she forgave him. It was nothing new. Because how could she not? The sweet boy didn't mean to hurt her, she knew that, everyone knew that.

But still, her friends warned her. There was no future with a boy like this. It couldn't stay like this. So she swore to herself this was the last time. She made that clear to Fred too.

Because what if he's the love of her life? Her future? This was her last year after all, y/n’s future was right in front of her. What if Fred was her future? You both couldn't give that up.

May- 1996 - Hogwarts

Everything was alright.

They were okay.

And Fred hasn’t been late for a whole month, sounds like nothing special but to him and her it was.

This weekend y/n was going home, and not just home, but with Fred.

After a year it was time for him to meet her parents. Fred claimed he was the perfect son in law, so he didn’t hesitate to agree. Y/n was nervous and excited at the same time.

Ready in her dorm, with a portkey, she had her favourite sundress on. She was waiting for Fred but he didn’t show up. Okay it was only 15 minutes now, but with their little history it made her nervous. She was absolutely sure Fred wouldn’t forget this. He can’t forget this.

20 minutes later she was still waiting.

No. This couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be.

And then, she found a note under her potionsbook. After reading only one word, she was already furious, a growing heat filling her cheeks.

Dear y/n, love

I remembered. I swear. But I just won’t make it. I’m not feeling okay and I think I might have a fever or something. I don’t want to make you or your parents sick, so I’m staying in my dorm.

I love you, kisses Fred x

She didn’t really know what to think. She was so disappointed, again.

But she could’t blame her boyfriend for feeling sick. Although she had her doubts, what if this wasn’t true, maybe he lied because he did forget it?

No, no, she had to trust him. Fred wouldn’t lie to her. So she grabbed the portkey and went to visit her parents.

Alone.

-

When she traveled back to Hogwarts it was late already, past midnight. Y/n hoped Umbridge wouldn’t catch her.

The corridors were empty, completely silent. This was not unusual. Most of the students were already asleep this late on a Sunday.

Unexpectedly, she heard gigles and laughs coming from around the corner. Did it come from the library? It couldn’t be. Not at almost 1 am.

She went closer to listen. Y/n placed her ear on the door. Was it... Was it...? No. No.

Did she hear Fred’s voice?

She really hoped she was just imagining this. Maybe she should trust Fred more.

But just checking won’t hurt right?

So she tried to open the door. It was locked.

“Alohamora” she whispered.

What she saw broke her heart into a million pieces.

Angelina sat on a table, with Fred extremely close to her, giggling. George and Lee were there too.

She couldn’t believe her own eyes. Looking silently in Fred’s shocked ones.

“Fuck” he sighed. “Y/n-“ he tried.

But she cut him off before he could say anything. “No, I don’t wanna hear another silly explanation from you, it’s enough, I don’t want to see you ever again” she screamed with tears in her eyes, making her vision blurry.

Y/n ran away, faster than ever so Fred couldn’t catch up this time.

“Stop!! Stop!” she heard him scream behind her.

She ran and ran, not even knowing were to.

“Let me explain” another scream followed.

That’s when she ended up in a corridor she didn’t know. A dead end. Ofcourse.

She gave up and stopped. Fred ended in front of her, breathing loudly, trying to catch his breath.

“Baby I-“ he tried

“Don’t call me baby, this is over” y/n cut him off.

Fred was speachless, for the first time in history. He didn’t realise this truly happened. He knew what he did wasn’t okay, but he never expected her to actually broke up with him. It just didn’t occur in his mind this was a possibility.

“But.. but...” he stuttered. “I swear, I can explain, what you’ve just seen, it wasn’t what you think it is. I’ve told you about the shoppe George and I want to open, right? It’s actually going to happen. We’re leaving hogwarts. That’s what we were doing, we were planning things. Tomorrow we’re going to blow up Umbridge, no not literally blow up, but with lots of firework! And then we’re going to open the shoppe together. It’s my dream y/n!” he rambled excited.

Y/n sighed. Understanding why he did this, but it didn’t change a thing.

“That actually makes things worse Fred. I’m happy your dream will come true. But you’re leaving and I’m finishing my year. When are you going to have time for me if you run a shop? You didn’t even have time for me now.” she cried.

Both of them were crying now. Knowing the break up was really going to happen. Fred wanted to keep fighting. But he knew she might be right.

A little sob left his mouth, something he never did before. She was right. He truly loved her but he couldn’t give her the happy future she deserved. He wasn’t right for her, he didn’t treat her the way she should’ve been treated. And the idea broke him. And that’s when she walked away.

They didn’t see each other again afterwards.

The next day, y/n laid in her bed when she heard fireworks, knowing what happened. She couldn’t go outside and watch...

Happy screams and laughs filled the castle. And that’s when she realised Fred and George were gone now. It was reality now. They won’t come back. Although a little part of her hoped they would stay. A little part of her thought Fred would come to her, begging her to stay with him. But she guessed he just didn’t love her enough.

After all the times Fred broke her heart, she was kind off used to it. But those heartbreaks couldn’t ever overcome this one.

August - 1996 - Diagon Alley

The summer was almost over, y/n graduated two months ago. The heartbreak still hurted but she was better now. She still didn’t know what to do now that she’s graduated.

Hermione decided you two had to go shopping. “It’ll make you happier” she stated like it was an actual fact. Y/n couldn’t say no of course.

Y/n’s breath hitched. A big clone of Fred’s face right in front of her (or George). This had to be their joke shoppe. God, it was more impressive than she expected. Guess you should never underestimate the twins.

“Let’s go inside y/n!” Hermione announced excited, grabbing her arm trying to puch her inside.

“Oh no no no no no, I don’t think that’s a great idea” she hesitated.

“Don’t worry, it’s so busy, Fred won’t see you” she promised her. Y/n sighed. She really didn’t want to go inside. She’d love to see the shoppe, but seeing Fred...

Whatever, it was true. It was so busy so Fred won’t ever notice her.

They entered, y/n was surprised, it was wonderful. Fred and George must have worked so hard to get to this point. God, she loved the place.

It brought back memories. All those joke products, most of them were used on her, she remembered. Fred thought it was hilarious to prank her literally all the time, being proud because it was something he invented himself. She couldn’t be mad about it, it made him so happy.

The place even smelled like him.

Y/n took a deep breath trying to gather all of the smell, in hope it would stay in her nose, so she could remember it back home.

She closed her eyes and imagined how it could be, if they didn’t broke up. How she would probably come here everyday to say hi, how she would watch Fred all day doing his job.

And then... she saw him. In his uniform, he stood there proudly on the stairs above her. Smiling happily, seeing all those laughing people because if his work.

He was happy. Fred missed y/n but he was happy. He thought a lot of all the things he did wrong. Although he didn’t really have time to worry.

Y/n sighed, it’s been months. Her heart was glowing inside her chest. She didn’t even feel sad any more. This was what her boyfriend always dreamt of. Her ex-boyfriend.

She turned around deciding it was not smart to look at the beautiful boy, the boy who still made her knees go weak.

Fred’s smell was more vibrant than before now. Almost like he was right in front of me.

Ow, love potions, of course.

Of course she still smelled Fred in it.

“I smell honey, flowers and vanilla soap” she heard a familiar voice whispering in her ear, almost making her jump.

“F-fred, hey” she stuttered, in shock by the fact he’s standing right in front of her.

“You look great, changed your hair” he smiled. It was true, y/n cut her hair a little shorter and decided to give it a lighter colour for the summer. The typical breakup haircut.

“Fred do you want to... talk... please?” she asked, knowing it wasn’t a great idea. She wanted to just run away after she realized what she said.

“We could go upstairs, talk in my appartment”

October- 1996 - Diagon Alley

“Come on darling, George opened up already!” Fred screamed running through his kitchen while jumping, trying to get his pants on. He grabbed an apple as breakfast.

Y/n ran to the kitchen too. “I thought you changed the being late thing” y/n joked, yes they joked about it now.

“You were the one holding me up this time” he smiled adding a wink. “You just can’t resist me in the bedroom” y/n answered daring.

She grabbed him by his collar, pressing a kiss on his lips. “I have no choice with the sexiest girlfriend in the word” Fred grinned, pressing kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

“Baby, you’re wearing your uniform backwards” he laughed.

Y/n worked at the shoppe now too.

When she asked Fred to talk, they actually talked for hours. They talked about what went wrong in their relationship, about what they had been doing in those months they broke up, talked about how they still had feelings,...

And after two hours they made up. Both being happier than ever, deciding they learned from their break up.

Fred asked her to come live in his apartment and work in their shop too. Y/n didn’t hesitate for a moment. She designed their boxes or packages and talked to costumers. But most of all she distracted Fred by rolling her uniforme skirt up and bowing down to ‘grab’ something. Sometimes he took her back to the appartment because he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Y/n now knew, the breakup was necessary. You both learned. And now you’re happier than ever.

Because after all, Fred was your future.

***

[starlightrows]

4 — The New King

The Queen of Tatooine Masterlist

← Previous - Next →

Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Discussion of losing parents, mention of disordered eating, bed sharing

Summary: Saved from an untimely death by starvation and exposure, Boba offers you a place in his palace

*This chapter contains an Easter Egg for an upcoming series that severely deviates from canon*

When you wake up your head is throbbing and you feel sick to your stomach, you’re so hungry. But the one thing you don’t feel, is cold. In fact you’re actually quite warm and comfortable at the moment. You crack your eyes open and are confused to find yourself wrapped in a worn blue blanket, laying in what looks like a large storage closet with a mattress on the floor.

You peer out the open door and see you’re on a ship. How did this happen? Who’s ship is this? Suddenly your stomach growls loudly… you smell something… something good. It doesn’t matter who’s ship this is, you have to eat whatever it is that smells that good.

You clamber out of the sleeping closet and see Boba turning off a hot plate and sealing a bag that surely must contain dehydrated food. He turns when he hears you.

You stare at him, at the food. You’re confused and starving. Having no idea what to stay you just stand there.

He offers you a hand, a gesture to approach “It’s not the most flavorful or healthy dining option” he says “but it’s hot, and will be ready in just a few minutes”

You step closer cautiously and look up at his face “How did you find me?” You ask in an unsteady voice

“I went back to the inn and saw what happened to it. And the town. Followed the road, I figured you’d take the shorter path with water even though it would be uphill and colder” he explains, handing you the sealed bag and a long handled spoon. You open the bag and dig in, not even caring what it is. “Eat slowly Princess, you’ll make yourself sick”

He’s right. You’ve seen it before. Travelers who haven’t eaten in days… weeks even… come to the inn and eat a lot of food in a short period of time… they land up retching in the woods behind the inn. So you slow down and actually taste the food as you eat it.

You make it about half way through the meal before you feel a little sick. You don’t normally eat this much food to begin with. So you set aside the bag of food and let your stomach settle. Boba is eating from a similar bag of food. You study your current meal companion and apparent savior.

“Why did you come back? Why did you come after me?” You ask

“I told you I would” he says “I came back to extend you an invitation, to come to Tatooine”

“You want me to go to Tatooine with you?” You're surprised by that. Sure he’s said it the last time you’d met, but you didn’t think he’d meant it. Men who pass through little towns like yours generally don’t keep promises to return.

“You don’t have to by any means” he says “But the offer is on the table”

“I can’t exactly refuse, can I? My home and businesses are gone…” This is coming out all wrong. This man just saves your life and you’re treating him like he planned this all out “I’m sorry… that was rude and ungrateful”

“You are not wrong” he points out “Put it another way. As you have said, you can’t go back. So I’ll offer you a choice, Princess. Come with me to Tatooine, or tell me anywhere you’d like to go and I will take you there”

“You would really do that? Just ferry me anywhere in the galaxy or take me back with you to Tatooine? That is a kindness I can’t repay”

“You already have. You saved my life that night in the storm. And I did promise you I would come back for you”

“Why?” You ask in a whisper “why would you come all the way back here? You owe me nothing… even if I did let you come in that night”

“Because you made an impression, little one. I found myself thinking about the sweet innkeeper at the edge of the universe often. Even before you saved my life. I always planned on coming back for you, I only wish I had done so sooner”

You let his words sink in. I always planned on coming back for you. You can feel your heart beating in your chest and your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’ll go with you” you say softly “back to Tatooine… Let me work in the kitchens or something to be useful in your household”

“We can talk about that later” He chuckles. “I know it isn’t flavorful, but I want you to eat and get more rest. Replenish your strength”

Your stomach is full, given that you usually don’t eat heavily on a regular basis. But he’s right, you know you need to eat more. Not just right now to recover from hypothermic exposure, but in general. That’s always been a struggle for you. But you do try. The food is right there, and he has been kind enough to offer it you freely.

Boba returns to the cockpit to manually fly his ship, you force yourself to eat at least a few more bites of the rehydrated food he prepared for you. You take the blanket from the cot where you woke up with you, and climb up into the cockpit to sit with him.

He doesn’t turn when you slide into the seat next to him but he does when he notices you wrapping the blanket over your shoulders.

“Apologies Princess” he says “This ship was not built for comfort”

“It’s alright. Just a little cold” you run the edge of the blanket between your finger tips

“You won’t be cold when we reach Tatooine” he chuckles

“No, I suppose not. I’ve heard Tatooine’s binary suns make it so that nothing grows” you can’t imagine it. A world where nothing grows. You grew up in the greenery of a forested planet, at the base of a mountain with rich soil for growing vegetables.

“Tatooine is rather desolate” he admits “Most of the palace is actually built underground to keep cool”

“The palace” you muse “And how does being king suit you so far?”

“The Hutt’s left that place a mess. The palace and their business affairs. It’s all been a nightmare cleaning it up” he admits “My partner Fennec and I have only been able to clear out a few rooms, the business affairs take precedent”

The word partner pulls you up short. Your heart sinks. Partner… your mind immediately jumps to significant other. If that’s the case, then why is he inviting you into their space? Does this person know Boba has made this journey to see you? Do they know he’s bringing you back with him? Your mind races, and you feel a bit measure of panic setting in. What if this partner has no idea, and gets angry? What if this situation turns sour and you have to figure out somewhere else to go?

“You’re awfully quiet” Boba observes “Have I said something to offend you?”

You figure you may as well ask… better to know what you’re walking into rather than go in blind. “Your partner” you swallow the waver in your voice “What are they like?”

“She’s a former bounty hunter like me” he says

Oh no… now you’re really in trouble…

“Hmm… and she’s just fine with you flying off to the edge of the galaxy to visit an innkeeper?” you try not to make the question sound like an accusation.

He turns to look at you with the ghost of a smile on his lips “You misunderstand little one. Fennec is my business and hunting partner. She has no influence or opinion over my personal affairs”

Relief floods your heart, followed instantly by embarrassment. “Oh, that’s… that’s good I suppose. I just didn’t want… I didn’t mean… I just don’t want to cause problems”

“You’re not causing problems. I offered this to you, and to be honest I am glad you accepted,” he admits

That makes you feel better, a little more at ease. In that moment, you realize why you’d reacted so suddenly and severely in your mind. You like him.

You haven’t had many crushes in your life, not a ton of opportunity for it. When you were young there were a few other kids your age in the settlement, maybe one or two of them caught your interest, a few secret kisses in the barn or behind the one roomed school building, but it never lasted, and for good reason. The people who passed through your inn were never really the type you had interest in either. Until now…

Hours pass sitting in the cockpit next to him, chatting about your life in the settlement and his traveling on his own since the age of ten.

You don’t want to pry, but you do make a comment on it “Ten is quite young to be on your own”

“You said yourself you were young when your parents passed and left you with the inn” he points out

“Suppose loss like that makes a person independent” you sigh

“Would have been nice if we didn’t have to be independent so early in life” he said curtly

“I would have liked to have brothers or sisters” you say wistfully “At least things seemed to turn out well enough”

“I think if my father had lived longer, I would have had a younger sibling” Boba says “I think my mother wanted a another son or daughter”

“Your mother never found love again?” You ask sympathetically

“No idea, I haven’t seen her since the beginning of The Clone Wars” he says, starting the command sequence to drop out of hyperspace

Since the beginning of The Clone War… over thirty years ago… “That’s very sad” you say quietly

“It’s better this way. I don’t think she would be proud of some of the things I’ve done” he says “But maybe someday I’ll find out what happened to her” You take that as a queue to drop the subject.

The ship drops out of hyperspace, and Boba starts the landing approach sequence. Tatooine is a massive planet. Even from space you can see it’s yellow sand and rock formation topography. It’s a wonder how any species manages to live there, given the prominent lack of water or greenery.

As the ship flys down closer to the surface you find that the chill of space dissipates, and heat radiating off the planet's surface permeates through the reinforced walls of the ship. You shed the blanket that had been keeping you warm before even touching down.

The palace is massive. The biggest structure you’ve ever seen. Three cylindrical towers built into the cliffs overlooking The Great Dune Sea.

Boba engages the ground security protocols, and lowers the ramp and escorts you to the intimidating durasteel door. There are no guards, no one patrolling to prevent entry. Boba opens the door with no indication of announcing his entry. The entryway is a short sandy strip of a room leading to a descending staircase.

He offers his arm to you “Careful Princess, these shifting sands make these steps more slippery than you’d expect”

You accept his offer, and place your hand in the crook of his arm and start down the staircase. He’s not wrong, loose sand on stone is slippery and you are glad to have his arm for stability.

The staircase ends and leads into a large space clearly meant to entertain groups. The room is in disarray. It is clear, based on the drag marks and blood splatter in the sand, Bib Fortuna and whoever else of Jabba’s entourage remained died at the hands of Boba and his partner. Outcropping in the stone walls lined with low couches, pillows, tables and chairs. Many of which are broken or knocked over. A large grate in the center of the floor sits at the foot of an elevated platform. A throne.

Boba lets your arm go, freeing you to move about the space and explore. He ascends the shorter staircase to reach the throne and sits, quietly observing you. After a moment you turn to him, and take in his regality. He’s intimidating with his emotionless helmet and solid stanced posture. A king in every right.

You smile at him and give a small curtsy “My lord”

He chuckles behind his mask, so very contrary to the stoic picture he paints with his armored silhouette. “Come, allow me to show you the rest” He rises from his seat, and extends a hand for you to take.

He shows you down a hallway lined with doors, explaining they’re private rooms previously used for guests. “Most of them haven’t been cleaned in decades”

“You would think with all the credits the Hutt’s had, they’d pay for cleaning services” you shake your head

“Unfortunately I haven’t had the time to clear out many of the private quarters. Just the Master’s chambers and a single guest room Fennec uses” he tells you, turning down a hallway with an ornate door at the end. Clearly the Master’s chambers he was referring to.

The room is bigger than the footprint of your inn. High ceilings to let hot air rise, an en-suite fresher with a deep soaking tub, a massive bed is the only furniture left in the room. It’s beautiful despite not being decorated or well maintained. But you could imagine it was much worse if this is what Boba describes as “cleaned out”.

“If you are comfortable, I would like to invite you to stay with me in the Master’s chambers” he says from behind you “At least until a room can be cleared out for you, if you so choose”

You whip around to look at him. An offer to share a bed with a king. He must see the touch of fear in your eye because he quickly speaks again.

“I have no intention of asking favor of you. I only wish to make sure you’re comfortable here. You have my word.”

You soften at his promise, and give a silent nod before thinking better of his hospitality. “Thank you”

Later that day you finally meet Boba’s infamous partner, Fennec Shand. She’s got a sharp eye, quick wit and a taste for good spotchka. It’s an interesting tale to hear how they came to meet and land up in each other’s company.

As there are not yet staff or guards in Fett’s employ, dinner is some kind of hunted desert beast Fennec killed yesterday. It’s actually not too bad, but not like the game hunted on your homeworld.

“In time we will get this sorry excuse for a capital back up and running” Boba says when the meal is finished “Full staff and guard and reopen trade”

“I can help begin clearing out the palace” you offer “Make suitable accommodations for your staff and guard, and any allies that may come to stay”

Boba looks to you “You are not obligated to do so little one, but your help is appreciated”

“I enjoy having projects” you admit with a smile “Things to work on and keep me busy”

“Then you make take the task, for so long as you choose” he smiles at you.

Despite his haggard appearance, Boba has a nice smile. It softens him, brings out the light in his eyes. You find yourself returning the smile, and unable to wipe it from your face.

The evening comes to an end. Fennec excuses herself to return to her own bed chambers. Not without casting a sidelong glance between you and Boba, still chatting away. Eventually Boba leads you back to his own chambers. True to his word, he takes his robes into the fresher to allow you the privacy to change into borrowed sleeping clothing.

“I’ll buy you new clothes tomorrow” he promises, climbing into the oversized bed beside you.

Your impulse is to thank him politely and decline the offer, but given that you are his guest and no longer have property of any kind, it’s a kindness you have to accept.

“Thank you” your cheeks burn with heat, a little embarrassed to be needing so much from him at the moment. Borrowed clothing, a place in his palace and in his bed.

You get down under the blanket on the bed. Night time in the desert is quite cold, and sandstone walls that keep the palace cool during the day turn the air chilly when the binary suns set.

Boba turns towards you, laying on his side, he looks as if he wants to say something. Ask you something. But instead he just stares, with his dark soulful eyes and seemingly perfect hint of a smile

“Goodnight Princess”

Tag List: @cannedsoupsucks @otterly-fey @paige6768 @littledragonlady @star-hoes @aeryntheofficial @xx-small-town-witch-xx

[itsagrimm]

imperial!tech has melted my brain

Can’t stop thinking about the imperial tech idea. It is implausible yet alluring. So here we gooooo. would love some feed back since I am not sure if that feel is right.

CN insults, violence, murder, discriminatory behaviour, treats, very toxic behaviour, soldier life in a fascist state, tiny bit of fluff or Manipulation depends on your perspective, blood, pain, talk of injury

Imperial!tech X they*them Y/N reader, afab but does not really matter unless I write a part 2

“Welcome on Kamino!”, the officer declared striding into the hall, “I hope you are motivated and up to the task to serve the galactic empire.”

A few laughs and murmured words from the crowd arose. The officer in front of the newly recruited soldiers waited patiently for them to quiet down.

“You-“, he pointed at them,” have been selected from the best bounty hunters, fighters and planetary defence forces in the galaxy. This-“ another pointer into the air ”- is your moment.”

The anticipation in the room was tangible.

“We are ready, sir”, someone said. Other “yeahs” and “bring it on” voiced agreement.

“We will see.”, the officer smiled, “You are here as new recruits for the imperial army elite squad. A most unusual and experimental force. And may I point out, you are not the first to attempt and fail to join this most extraordinary unit.”

Again, the silence was unpleasantly deafening. Y/N looked around but this time no one dared to speak up. Hard, human, mostly men* had come with Y/N to Kamino, the most secretive of worlds where all the now imperial clone troopers came from. Y/N knew some from their time as a bounty hunter. But looking at these tense men* now, these identical uniforms, these faces Y/N didn’t recognize any of them.

“Allow me to introduce you to your commander. Clone Commander Tech will assess your performance and decide on your -” a last pointed gesture ”-fate within the imperial forces.”

With this the door opened and a single trooper walked in. Calmly and collected, giving not a glance to the newly recruited.

“Are these new soldiers, sir?”, the trooper asked quietly.

“I am afraid so.”

The trooper puffed, turned around and took his time looking at the recruits.

“What a disappointment.”, he finally stated while fixing his googles, “Listen up! I am your commander. You on the other hand are barley sentient, oxygen consuming, shit generating bags of meat.”

He looked down, his voice now lower. It was an odd moment. The hall was full of assertive and hardened fighters. Yet this skinny, pale, four eyed clone berated them.

“You think you are smart and impressive. But trust me – you are not. All you can hope to accomplish is following my precise order. Do you think you can do that?”

Silence.

Someone started to laugh and clap.

“Woooooowww”, the recruit stated, “What a show. Is this a joke?”

Others started to snicker.

The commander turned his head like an owl and fixed his eyes on the rebellious troublemaker.

“It really was quite impressive. But listen here googles – I am not following orders from a clone. You are nothing but brainless cannon fodder. So where is the real commander, officer?”

More snickering in the hall. Y/N got cold. Something bad was about to happen. They knew it.

“Don’t-“, they tried to voice something but a glance from the clone commander silenced Y/N.

Helplessly they watched as commander Tech took off his glasses.

In a fraction of a moment the commander lunged at the troublemaker and hit the frame of his glasses on his head. It took 3 few precise and fast strikes with the doomium frame before the skull shattered.

No one spoke as the commander cleaned his glasses with the uniform of the dead troublemaker before putting them on again.

“You “, he pointed at Y/N and their back went cold. “You anticipated my attack. Well done. I consider you bearable for the elite squad. Congratulations.”

XXXXXXX

The elite squad had a variety of tasks. Whenever necessary they got deployed to guard, assassinate, or downright slaughter. Y/N felt nothing. Life in the outer rim was hard enough without a war. Killing had been a necessity for survival for too long and Kamino had numbed what was left in Y/N to care.

Y/N was given a number within the unit. ES-01. There had been another ES-01 before Y/N but nobody liked to talk about that. And since the number was impractical, their squad members had shortened it into the moniker “ONCE”.

ONCE was fine with the squad. There was little talk between them. At night ONCE heard the others cry or whisper to each other about the commander and the horrors the had to endure. But ONCE did not want to talk and pretended to sleep.

Sleep was a rarity for the elite squad due to their deployments.

And Tech – their commander – never slept. ONCE saw him twice in the bunk room to get something or give out orders. But never had they witnessed their commander asleep. He was always off somewhere, either working on the squat space craft deep into the night or in the little lab were he meticulously planned out missions. He laboured like a mad man but nobody objected.

It was early. ONCE had woken up from a nightmare. The other members of the squad were still asleep. The bunk of the commander empty of course. ONCE got up. There was no point in staying here.

The long corridors were nearly empty. A few guards and droids patrolled or performed cleaning duties. But nobody paid attention to ONCE wandering around with a cup of caf.

Commander Tech was in the hangar, working on the ship.

“Commander, you are up already.”, ONCE stated.

“Still. I wasn’t finished.”, Tech replied. His voice was raspy as if he had talked to himself for hours, “What do you want?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to check on the insomniac commander.”

“Oh.”, it sounded like a treat, “There is no need for you to assess my sleeping pattern, soldier.”

He looked up from the bottom of the ship at ONCE and got up.

“But thank you for bringing me caf.”

“I didn-“

“I said thank you, soldier.”

Before any protest Tech took ONCE hand, twisted it with surgical accuracy for them to let go of the cup of caf and took it.

That kriffin clone.

ONCE inhaled.

“Hey, with all due respect commander, if you want a caf I can get you some. No need to take some by force from me.”

Tech just calmly sipped from the cup.

“How nice of you. How considered, dear ONCE.”, he said in a sweet voice, “But no, I do not require any more caf from you. Thank you very much. Tell me, is using the caf machine a task the little head of yours can process? Sooo many buttons… Sooo complicated… You must be so proud.”

ONCE did not flinch. Living in the outer Rim, spending time among killers and criminals had teachable effects. It did not pay off to go against bigger fish, but limits had to be set.

Without a second thought ONCE licked their finger and dipped it into the caf of their commander.

Tech – the clone commander who even talked over grand moff talkin once - was speechless.

For a moment ONCE thought he might hit them, already bracing for the impact of an armoured fist. Instead, the commander put down the cup.

“I should whip you for that.”

ONCE stayed silent and starred forward, at the side of the ship.

Tech moved closer. He was taller than them and his dark armour enhanced his shoulders. A dark bird of prey with big eyes starring down on measly prey.

“I will whip you for that.”

His fingers scratched over ONCEs pauldron upwards until he reached their neck, pocking painfully into the skin.

“But not now.”

Tech moved away.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Bracca had been a disaster. The elite squad was tasked to track and eliminate some deserters. But before they could implement commander Tech’s plan, contradictory orders came in from Kamino. Good soldiers follow orders. But what does that help with in the field when one order is to kill and the other to capture.

Now the commander was injured.

Alone in the med bay.

ONCE starred at the wall.

Tech was an unpleasant commander. The respect he commanded was gained by violence and constant critique of those he considered lesser.

But he deserved not to be alone when in pain, right? And back then in the hanger he had not hit ONCE. ONCE was aware that what they considered adequate or even caring behaviour was twisted by a life spent in danger, the imperial brain washing and the maddening time with the elite squad. But they didn’t care. Tech had all the chances to punish ONCE for their discretions. Yet he didn’t. That was nearly good behaviour from a man who had killed a recruit for disrespecting him. Wasn’t it?

ONCE head spinned. The other squad members whispered in their bunks about the mission. About their commander and how he got burned by an ion engine. Apparently, the deserters were the commanders former squad members. And they had left him. Twice.

Once he had a squad.

Once he was unharmed.

Once he was many things of which they did not know about.

ONCE got up. Checking on a wounded commander should not be such a loaded and complicated question.

The med bay was as sterile and uncaring as the rest of the kaminoan architecture.

The commander was laying on a cot. The bacta had worked well on the burns on the side of his head. But he still locked weak and hurt. Without his glasses, Tech starred at the ceiling, not even a holopad to distract himself.

“hello commander, I got you some caf.”

part 2

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Every Jedi lineage has its own dance and Ahsoka, for one, is excited when Anakin finally begins teaching her theirs. However, before they can get really started, they run into a slight problem.Or That time Ahsoka learned Dooku is her great-great-grandmaster. AN: Based on that post about Jedi linages having dances that I can’t find anymore thanks Tumblr. 

Ahsoka wanted to impress her Master. She wanted to prove to Anakin that it hadn’t been a mistake to take her on despite the more than untraditional claiming. She had to make him proud and show that she wasn’t a childish youngling anymore and could be useful on the battlefield.

Ahsoka also desperately wanted to jump up in excitement because they finally had found some time to spare and Anakin was going to teach her their lineage’s dance. It wasn’t the first sign that Ahsoka was his Padawan, but it seemed like the one that was the most binding. She had gotten her proper beads and even been sent to the quartermaster to get clothing more suited for the war front. Ahsoka hoped her Master hadn’t noticed she had picked her new tunics to match the colors he seemed to prefer to wear. She wouldn’t mind it per se, plenty of Padawans did it after all, but it was just a little embarrassing if he said something about it. Anakin already called her “my Padawan” or, after she’d done something particularly reckless, “my very young Padawan” plenty of times. They were a team and would stick together until Ahsoka was a formidable Knight of her own, but being taught something that was particular to their lineage somehow reassured Ahsoka that she had found her place more than anything else.

“Ready?” Anakin asked.

They had assembled in the bigger training hall of the flagship and carefully put their outer robes to the side together with their lightsabers. A few clones were training, but Ahsoka could already see them beginning to work out less and less to observe them. She had to give it her best. Like most younglings, Ahsoka had adored the celebrations when various lineages would show off their dance, dreaming of when she would learn hers. The elaborate choreographies were stunning, the backflips that were in pretty much every dance at least once had always made her screech in delight.

Not that Ahsoka would do so now.

She was fourteen. And a Padawan.

She didn’t giggle or watch in awe.

“Born ready, Master,” Ahsoka replied cheekily.

Anakin grinned, looking carefree and oddly young this way. Ahsoka was glad about it. She would have disliked it if an old and stuffy Master had picked her.

“Good. It’s been a while since I actually danced, so forgive me if it doesn’t look as fluid.”

Anakin shook his right arm, the one Count Dooku had cut off as if to underline the point. Ahsoka was sure that he must be joking. She had seen him go toe-to-toe against Master Kenobi during training and his prosthetic had hardly seemed to bother him. She had been a little put out by it at first, Jedi with such grave injuries didn’t get send on active combat missions or delicate negotiations anymore, but Anakin had definitely shown that it wasn’t holding him back.

Anakin took a deep breath and bowed in front of her, it was the first position which most of the dances Ahsoka had already learned at the temple shared. Then he took a step forward, raising up his right arm at the same time. The longer she watched, the more mesmerized did Ahsoka become. There were plenty of moves, each one representing one Jedi, and they all fit together perfectly. It reminded her of the gentle waves of the sea or shifting sands of the desert, but none of those images perfectly translated to the fluidity with which Anakin moved. She didn’t dare take her eyes off him even for a second, but she could tell that the clones too had all halted in their movements to observe him. It was beautiful and even though there was no music, Ahsoka felt like she could hear the banging of drums or the gentle play of a harp. More than anything she wanted to join right in, learn to copy all his moves.

With ease, Anakin rose from the ground, arched his back as he spun. Out of that flip, he stepped forward with one leg, slowly pulling the other with him. He raised his arms up-

And stopped with curse Ahsoka wouldn’t dare even whisper where any Master could possibly overhear.

“Is everything alright?” Ahsoka asked quickly.

Anakin’s expression had darkened, he was frowning and clutching his prosthetic arm with the other hand as it shook slightly. Had it malfunctioned and hurt him? Ahsoka jumped up from her position on the ground to walk over to her Master, worry trailing after her like a lost child.

“Yes, yes,” Anakin muttered. “I’m fine, I just forgot it. Obi-Wan and I haven’t fixed the sequence yet.”

“Fix it?” Ahsoka inquired. Lineage dances didn’t get fixed, that was the whole point. They got extended but never changed.

“Mhm,” Anakin hummed, pointedly not elaborating, and walked over to his bundle of robes to fish his comm unit out of them.

A moment later he was calling Obi-Wan. The whole situation was absolutely strange to Ahsoka, she didn't want to know what the clones were thinking.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s voice rang through the silent room as if he had been shouting. “Aren’t you supposed to be training with Ahsoka right now?”

“And aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” Anakin retorted drily.

Ahsoka counted the hours and indeed. Obi-Wan wasn’t supposed to be awake, it was his nighttime rotation. They had scheduled the hours so that at least one Jedi was always up in case of an emergency. If none of them followed protocol, that particular system was rendered useless.

“I had more pressing manners to attend to." That, Ahsoka had already learned, was Obi-Wan speech for I was up reading through reports. "What can I do for you?”

Anakin rolled his eyes and send Ahsoka a look of fond exasperation, expressing quite clearly what he thought about Obi-Wan’s attitude. She snorted and was half in mind to tell him that he wasn’t doing much better than his Master.

“I’m teaching Ahsoka our dance,” Anakin said. “And we didn’t fix it. Dooku’s move is still in there.”

Silence followed. The name of the Sith Lord had cut through the air like a lightsaber, leaving behind a rough and burning wound.

“I- I had forgotten about that,” Obi-Wan picked up the conversation again.

He sounded tired and hurt, it made Ahsoka uncomfortable. Jedi Masters were supposed to know… well, not everything, nobody could, but the uncertainty in his voice was still unsettling.

“You’re in the main training hall, correct? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

And with that Obi-Wan ended the call and Anakin tossed his comm unit back into the clothing pile.

“Sorry, Snips,” he apologized. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Your first lesson is not turning out as I had planned.”

“That’s alright!” Ahsoka replied quickly. She had already figured out that not a lot of things about her apprenticeship were going to be going according to plan. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, what was that about? What do you mean with Dooku?”

Anakin blinked a couple of times as if he didn’t understand her question. For a moment Ahsoka wondered whether she had said something wrong or accidentally spoke complete gibberish, then Anakin’s face cleared up.

“Right, you don’t know. Look, Obi-Wan is your grandmaster. He was trained by Master Qui-Gon Jinn, who died ten years ago on Naboo. Qui-Gon’s Master in turn was Count Dooku, who was taught by Master Yoda. Dooku’s your great-great grandmaster.”

Anakin spit Dooku’s name like an insult, rightfully so in her opinion. Dooku was a cruel bastard, it was almost impossible to imagine that he had been a Jedi Master once upon a time. To think that she was of his lineage now, that he had fallen to the dark side when his own Padawan had been murdered by a Sith and had cut off Anakin’s arm-

“He’s no Master of mine,” Ahsoka said finally.

Dooku had betrayed everything the Jedi stood for. He didn’t deserve to be remembered as one of their own. The sooner they cut his sequence from the dance, the better.

“Can you teach me the moves after his until Obi-Wan arrives?” Ahsoka asked. “I still have to learn those.”

Anakin smiled, a little strained still, but cheer was slowly seeping back into it.

“Sure,” he agreed. “Let’s start with Master Qui-Gon’s move.”

He fell into a stance Ahsoka assumed was the one where Dooku’s usually ended and picked right up, transitioning into what must be Master Jinn's move, then Obi-Wan’s and finally his own. By the time Obi-Wan showed up in the training hall, Ahsoka could almost execute those last three in perfect synchronicity with her Master.

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Heat Seekers II Genre: Dark Cyberpunk AU Pairing: Chanyeol x f.reader Words: 8k Fic Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. I’m serious people. If any of the chapter warnings are uncomfortable or triggering for you, please do not read this. Do so at your own discretion. Lots of angst and hurt, eventual smut. Chapter Warnings are below the cut. Author’s Note: There are some specific things in this fic that I’ve personally experienced, and some that I have not. Please understand my intention with this fic is a way of healing not just for myself but hopefully for others who unfortunately have experience with these types of situations. I did a lot of debating about whether or not I should even post this fic, and have spoken to a few individuals about it. Ultimately, with the intent of healing and moving past such trauma, it’s been decided OK to post. Please take my warnings seriously.

Chapter Warnings: panic, anxiety & triggers. Mentions of sex trafficking. Political injustice.

You push your way through the heavy doors into Blue House, ticking your chin forward in greeting to the entertainers standing in the comforts of the lobby, familiar faces you once considered colleagues. The one you’re looking for is at the bar along the back wall, sleek black beneath your fingers, unable to help the way they fan and smooth across its surface as you address him. “Thanks for the tip,” you grin, pausing momentarily to chastise the man before you, “Can I have the info now? I know you were looking out for me by taking it to save, but don’t you think you should have a little more faith in me?” Chan, who is your sole confidant- grins right back. “We don’t believe in faith, remember?” he retorts, flourishing two fingers in front of him to awaken his Atlas, fuzzing to synthetic life between you. You laugh mirthlessly at his reminder because he is right. He flicks his fingers and turns his wrist in a smooth motion, then waits while you blink your own to life and accept the request for sync that takes up the main holo in front of you. He waits for you to collect the job from his inbox and read the description; watching you with a blank expression you don’t see. “In search of a female escort, early to mid-twenties for one night job. The escort must possess advanced skills with Atlas Tech, and hacking. Body measurements are required prior to the job. Deliver in-person to coordinates 94.0114” N 94.0412” E. Details to follow. Payment is dependent on job success. 1200c.” Admittedly, the job description is short but to the point. If anyone were desperate enough, which everyone is, anyone could have collected this job. Now you see why Chan called you for this. Even without the price tag, the requirements complement your skillset spot on. You notice the job expires in two days. Good thing you didn’t have any other plans tonight, you muse to yourself. “Thanks, Chan,” you say with a smile, disconnecting the sync between your Atlas drives. He gives you a warm, dimpled smile in return, “Don’t mention it, babygirl. Just don’t be a stranger, yeah? You know Blue House will always be here for you.” His affectionate pet name for you makes your stomach flutter, just the same as it always did, but you sigh and turn away with a nod, plugging coordinates into your H.I. Pulling up your GPS menu, your smart tech automatically asks you if you want to register the coordinates it recognizes from any recent files you opened. You tap the green ‘register’ button on your interface the moment you slide onto the smooth leather seat of your hyperbike. You pull the visor of your helmet down, giving your H.I a moment to complete the reaction and pop up in your helmet visor. When it does, you scan the map, telling your Atlas you wish to start your bike. The artificial chime of understanding is a comforting sound, as is the low humming purr of the engine starting within the metal between your knees. Intimate, like a heartbeat between a ribcage. The route isn’t terribly long, about thirty-six minutes through the city… if you go the speed limit. A ridiculous notion to still follow, if only out of principle for the older generations. Nobody uses the rule of it anymore, and most people who use the road these days consider it an insult to the growth of safe traveling anymore to have ‘limits’ on speed, and by extension, how well a vehicle moves. Why make such advancements if the restrictions placed on them refuse to evolve? You tick your head to the side with a slight scowl. The trip takes you two-tenths of a second longer than you initially gauged. To a tech hacker such as yourself, inaccuracy is a flaw you’re desperate to rid yourself of. It makes you green with envy of Artificial Intelligence. The coordinates take you to a jewelry store on the north side of the city, closer to the outskirts and the wilderness of the Old City beyond it. Despite the location, the street is lined with tons of high-end shops that glow in the night, open for business. Odd, considering the best shopping districts in the city are further toward the center, and none of them look as classy as this street. You enter the store, raising a brow at the large panel that reads ‘Cloak & Dagger’ in clean, bold lines in the window. A strange name for a jewelry boutique. It feels out of place for you to be here, but you march forward carefully regardless of the uncomfortable way the white polished floor shines back up into your eyes. “Hello?” you call, approaching the largest glass case- it appears to be the counter, with a small tablet resting on a stand in the center. A woman stands up from behind another case to your left, sliding the glass panel closed with her hand before she approaches you. “How can I help you?” Her accent is older, perhaps European, and she looks as if she could be in her sixties. Even at her apparent age, she is exemplary. Your eyes drift down to the items in the case, drawing out a hum because the contents of the case are not what you expected. Now the name makes perfect sense. The jewelry doesn’t just mean your typical rings and pendants. The case is full of self-defense jewelry. Defender rings, ring knives, and other small weapons that are worn. Without answering her, you round the case to the one she stood from, and notice an assortment of larger wearable weapons. From strings of magnetic senbon to actual daggers and piercing finger cuffs. “Find something you like?” she asks, trying to prompt you again. Part of you immediately dislikes the way she’s standing. She seems too proud of your reaction, and with her back straight and hands folded perfectly on top of the counter, she has an air of superiority. With narrowed eyes, you stand back to your full height, “I’m here about a job that’s due in two days.” Her face is unreadable, and she nods minutely, “Can you show me what you’re referring to, dear?” She makes a finger gun and points it directly toward you, tilting her fingers up with the motion of it going off. It sets your adrenaline running with panic until she smiles and her Atlas opens between you. Her motion for opening it is horrifying, and you’re bewildered as to how she came about making that her initiation sequence. You don’t want to close your eyes tightly for the full second it takes to open your own, but you hold you breath and do it anyway. She hums in approval and understanding when you twist your H.I toward her and show her the job posting on your personal assignment bulletin. “I see,” she says, letting her eyes rove you up and down. Nothing you’re not used to, having worked in a brothel for years. “Very well then.” She types something into her own H.I and motions for you to come back to the center of the shop floor. When you do, she presses a button on her interface that expands it around the room. Suddenly, you’re standing in the center of some program she’s running, and the security cameras in the shop come to life. A bright blue light beams from each, pointing at your feet as they scan up your form. Momentarily, you’re impressed with the way she’s made her tech work. Multiple programs running from the same cameras, she’s clever, and you like her a little more for it. Perhaps a bit unorthodox and fitting to her shop’s name, cloaked in mystery, but you’re interested in how she came to be in this moment. She stands in front of you, one hand on her hip while the other goes between touching her lips to touching her main holographic interface, or H.I for short. She’s mumbling to herself as she works, letting your now holographic form float into the space above you. Reaching out, she pulls you out of the center and away from your holoclone. “Fry, darling, give me measurements without her clothes, will you?” “Yes of course, dear,” a disembodied voice echos back. Albeit quite synthesized, it is distinctly male, with an American accent. “Pardon me for the intrusion, miss. Varian Fry, at your service.” the voice says to your holoclone. No clothing is actually removed from either you or your clone, but the AI brings up a separate holo screen for each piece of your clothing. It’s fascinating, to see how quickly he can tell everything about the items, from their thickness and fibers to how many millimeters they equate for in your initial measurements. “At your request, dear,” he says, and an upbeat chime rings on her main interface with your naked measurements. The woman looks at you over her reading glasses, smiling, “He’s impressive, isn’t he?” You realize she asked because you’re smiling at his handiwork. Simply, you nod at her. “Fry, take these into manufacturing. Rush order, number…” she trails off, pausing as she tilts her head at you, “seventy-two, please. In black and violet.” You have no idea what she means and part of you feels like this is some strange super-suit she’s making for you. “Right away, dear.” Fry says, and her H.I blinks into nonexistence. She sighs, glancing at you wistfully, “I think he’ll be most pleased.” You know you shouldn’t because it’s cliche and quite honestly, she shouldn’t tell you, but you ask anyway, “Who?” She laughs, “Your partner for the evening, of course. Don’t worry too much, he’s one of the good guys.” That’s all she tells you before she’s ushering you back toward the door. “Come by again tomorrow midday, it’ll be ready,” she assures you just as she lets the door shut between you. The encounter leaves you feeling a myriad of emotions, though most prominently was the anxiousness of such a mysterious job. You’ve only had a small share of jobs from outside sources, and none that appeared to have so much riding on them. Without anything else to do, you ride back toward Blue House, craving pizza. Smiling, you decide to stop for a quick payday and a free dinner at The Cave. It takes less time than usual to make your rounds of the arcade cabinets, easily earning enough credits to pay for a large pie to take back with you. Plain cheese, well done. Same as always. When you walk through the doors of the brothel with a smile and a pizza box, Chan knows, “Oh no, how many people’s day did you ruin?” “Just a few, I promise. I really just wanted the pizza.” you comment, admitting that a few extra coins in your pocket from beating out cheating gamers never hurt anyone. His eyes zero in on the box settled on your palm with a swallow, “Did you just bring that here to make my mouth water?” There’s a hopeful spark in his eyes, but you decide to enjoy the chance to tease anyway, “We both know this isn’t the kind of thing that makes your mouth water.” Your eyes float around the lobby with a grin. His smile slides off his face briefly, until you shake your head, “Come on. Got some time to spare?” Immediately, the guardian of Blue House morphs his stance- away from the imposing spread of his arms across the sleek counter to the boyish delight of the one person you’ve grown to trust in this world like a starry-eyed puppy. His childlike wonder brings a smile to your lips at the stark contrast of his nickname in the business, as the Wolf of Blue House. He doesn’t mind it, and most of his clientele pay top dollar to have the attention and affection of that persona. You know the way, and Chan follows you through the door on the right, ascending the stairs tucked narrowly between the lounges. The rose-colored light gives the cramped space an intimate feel, and part of you takes artificial comfort from this familiarity, and the memories of it you can feel permeate your consciousness. Of the way you grew up here, together with Chan. Of how thankful you are to him for teaching you and helping you survive. The embarrassment of teenage years made you closer, and you try not to smile, remembering once when you were drunk and nineteen, after your first official orgasm ever, at his hands, and the victory of such a thing made you so emotional you confessed that you loved him. Gently as ever, he brought you back down and reminded you that pleasure isn’t love. In the darkness of your personal room in this very building, your tears fell from the sudden fear of weightlessness that overtook you with such release, and he was there for every step of the way. Chan was there, keeping you grounded and guiding you on a path that would make you strong enough, smart enough, to stand on your own feet and never need anyone else. You could want to your heart’s content, but you would never need. That seems like a distant past, now. Somewhere after eating the whole pie with Chan on the rooftop, you fell asleep. You’re positive he carried you back down the stairs to his den and let you sleep in his bed. The only difference was your jacket had been removed, neatly folded over the open door of his armoire. You’ve woken up here before, sometimes alone, sometimes not when you needed to feel safe so you could sleep without screaming. Weeks or months between. Never more than 3 nights in a row. Today, only the familiar scent of Chan lingers in the room. When you rise, you notice he’s left you some of your old clothes, if you feel so inclined, and a fresh towel. The mirror of his bathroom has wispy remnants of condensation still, and the balmy humidity in the room feels relaxing. The warm water kickstarts your tired bones while you shower, giving you time to think against the white noise it provides. You wonder what time it is, but don’t bother with rushing the moment. As usual, you find Chan working in the office with his natural curls still damp atop his head. They’re unstyled, the dry strands a bit frizzy- mused from his fingers running through them no doubt. Even though you know he’s very busy, he looks comfortable. “I’m out.” you coo quietly from your position, leaning against the door frame with your jacket tucked over your folded arms. It’s a little awkward saying goodbye, knowing you’ll be back in a few weeks after you’ve rotated through your other caches. You can never stay in one place for too long. His head snaps up with the sound of your voice, and he gives you a dimpled grin, “Okay. Stay safe out there, babygirl.” It’s obvious your decision to even say goodbye makes him happy, although he has never judged you for disappearing without small talk. Neither of you owe each other anything. You remain as you both are, separately autonomous. The time you share together is a boon of respectful interest and allied friendship. It’s half past noon as you sling your backpack over your shoulder and head outside, inhaling a deep breath as your palm habitually runs across the leather seat of your bike. Mounting, you bring up the routes of your recent destinations and take in the swell of momentary bliss you get when the bike beneath you roars to life. The midday sun feels good, the heat of it through your clothes and on your hands warming you the moment you ride onto the city streets from the cool shade of the undercity. When you arrive at Cloak & Dagger, you’re whisked inside by the same older woman from yesterday, and she makes a lot of fuss over you. “We’ve got to get your nails and your hair done before you can wear that dress,” she’s muttering, pulling at your hair and your hands to see your fingernails. “Excuse me?” you ask. The job didn’t entail all of that fuss. Why is going to that extent necessary? She gives you a dazzling, perhaps a little overeager smile. “You’ve got to look the part, doll. You’re not bad,” she comments, standing back to assess you from head to toe with a twist to her lips, “but we’ve still got to even out your ends and do you up for the event.” You’re uncomfortable with this, but when she confirms it will cost you nothing, you remind yourself it’s all for the money. Plus, you haven’t had a haircut in a while. “Close the shop, dear, we’ve got important work to do!” she coos in excitement loudly to her AI. Fry’s voice answers her with amusement, “We never opened today, dear.” She laughs, “All’s well that ends well, then!” as she takes your hand and walks you back behind the counter and into a large space that appears to be a dressing room. Immediately, she guides you to a comfortable-looking chair stationed in front of an old-style makeup mirror and begins talking to her AI. “Mm, yes, I think this one will do.” she says as she flips through a couple of hairstyles from a menu you don’t recognize in her H.I. Two arms fold down from the center of the ceiling here, sleek and soundless as they move. Fry’s voice is directed at you, “This is happening to you, my dear. Which of these would you like? I can do either with the length your hair will be once I even it out.” A display appears on the mirror in front of you and four hairstyles are displayed. You’re still trying to wrap your head around this ordeal and all the fuss over you, but you blurt out “number two” anyway. “Excellent choice, my dear.” he says, gentlemanly as always in his American accent. The arms behind you start working immediately, folding out to comb your hair and part it, taking clips from a tray that’s been set up just behind the chair. It takes longer than you anticipated for the AI Varian Fry to cut your hair and style it into the selected choice, all while he comments how wonderful it looks on you. You’ve lost count of how many pins he’s put in by now. The quirky woman jabs often at you with small talk that you needn’t reply to, or she comments on the work Fry is doing while she tends to your nails. “I can do that, darling. No need to fret.” the AI says to her while she fusses over evening out your nails, but she waves him off. “No no, I want to. It makes me feel useful. We never get to have this kind of fun anymore.” Her words are cryptic and the way she says them tells you there’s a mountain of information behind the comment, but she says nothing else about it. Your nails aren’t something you get a choice with, as she layers gel onto them, building it up and evening the edges before she finishes. You watch, moving your fingers in all kinds of ways to get used to having longer nails, almond-shaped no less. Admittedly, you like the matte hue she chose as the color. Once she’s finished, she stands and walks to the left side of the room. There’s a long, rolling pole with clothes hangers adorning it, and a single garment is neatly folded in a black bag. She removes it and unzips it just as Varian Fry places the final bobby pin in your hair, covering your eyes with a metal visor briefly while hairspray plumes into a cloud over your head. “I can’t wait to see this on you,” the woman coos excitedly, “You might just be our best work yet.” When Varian finishes your hair, the arms spin your chair in the direction of the woman, and she’s holding up a black and violet dress, the heavy yet gentle shine of velvet catching light. Typically, you’re not the dress type, but again, money is money. At least it isn’t hideous, and the colors and style are gorgeous. There’s isn’t much you find that would annoy you with it, other than perhaps the inability to run if necessary. “We’ve only got your makeup left to do!” she chimes while she hangs the dress on a hook high off the floor, just beside the mirror. Another cart is wheeled over by one of Varian’s arms, full of high-end makeup brands you recognize from huge ads in the shopping districts of the city. She takes your hand with a laugh, “Up up up, come on now, let’s get you into this.” Ushering you into another room, you’re granted a moment of privacy to use the restroom and collect yourself before she’s knocking at the door and shamelessly stripping you of your outer clothes. Being naked in front of others stopped making you feel insecure a long time ago, and the benefit of it is the efficient speed of doing the task you needed to do instead of milling about in a flustered state of undress for longer than necessary. It doesn’t mean you enjoy being in the nude, but when duty calls you do what must be done. The older woman of Cloak & Dagger doesn’t seem to bat an eye either, assuming years of her dressing up others in her creations has kept the professional efficiency all the same. If she notices any of your battle scars, she doesn’t pause or comment on them. When you look at yourself in the mirror, you don’t recognize the woman staring back at you, except for her eyes and the color of her hair. The dress hugs your form like a thick and warm blanket, accentuating the lines of your body and appealing to the curve of your hips you hadn’t realized were so generous. You turn several directions, analyzing yourself. Perhaps it had been too long since you looked in the mirror at your body. You could appreciate the shape of your own ass, and the swell of your breasts, the gentle caress of line that was your own spine, clearly visible in the cutout back of this dress. Even the muscle of your own legs, visible from the mid-thigh down to the shiny black heels on your feet. For once, even with every sad story of the scars you know riddle your body, you couldn’t stop staring at yourself, liking the way you looked. Finished with fussing over yourself, the woman cracks a grin at you, cooing with excitement at the spectacle before her. “You look ravaging, darling.” She opens the door and takes your hand. Leading you back into the center of the prep room, she waits. Walking in heels is going to be the death of you- you’ve never worn any quite this high and pointy. In your mind, the only upside is the way you could stab someone with one if warranted. When Varian doesn’t respond and no movement is noticed from any of the things he can control, she asks, “Varian dear are you awake?” To which the hand-like ends of the limbs from the ceiling give her a single finger of silence, he whispers, “No, no please I need a moment to enjoy this absolute dream.” The woman barks a loud laugh, giggling to herself with pride. The joke does not go over your head, realizing with a smile that Varian was giving you a compliment. The entire ordeal has taken far longer than you think is appropriate, but if you try to think about your feelings, you can admit you enjoyed the pampering, and you feel good. You’ve never done anything like this, and there are small parts of you that had always wondered about why women fuss over their appearances so much. Now, you know. “The car has just arrived, dear.” Fry’s voice cuts in just as the woman finishes applying one more layer of lipstick to your face. She claps her hands together and smiles, “Right then! One last piece.” With a sway in her step, she leads you back out to the front of the shop and muses over the selection of handbags to her right briefly, deciding on a black leather clutch with a silver crossbody chain that she drapes over your body. You spy through the front window curiously, eyeing a man standing beside a car door wearing a black suit and tie with dark sunglasses. He’s not moving. “One more thing.” says the old woman, her finger raised in the air as she rounds the counter. She pulls a small 10mm pistol from somewhere below the register, checking it with a speed you find almost as alarming as the immediate panic that sets into your bones. You’re frozen as she checks the six spaces are all filled with bullets, snaps it shut and puts the safety lock on. Then, she’s standing in front of you, holding it out for you to take. Slowly, as if the gears of your body have been rusted still far too long, you shake your head. “What’s the matter dear, don’t know how to shoot? I don’t think you’ll need it, but just in case.” “No,” your voice quivers. She makes a sound of disbelief, misunderstanding you as she reaches for your bag, attempting to put the gun in it. “Get that thing away from me.” you command, wrenching the bag out of her fingers. She gives you a look, open-mouthed and taken aback a bit. When the pause between you grows too heavy, the man at the car breaks the silence by knocking on the door. The old woman blinks, “Oh, goodness okay okay, have it your way. Just be safe. I don’t want any idiots ruining this stunning creation.” she says to you with a wistful smile and a pat to your shoulder. Once she ushered you outside, you’re not sure why, but your head seemed to turn of its own volition, back to the front window of Cloak & Dagger, where you spied Varian’s metal arm whipping a handkerchief from an unknown place and offering it to his wife. The SUV in front of you is dark. Black paint, black trim and rims, and every window except the windshield looks deeply tinted. The man in front of you, painfully obvious with his secret and important aura, sticks out like a sore thumb. His only motion is opening the rear door for you. You’re desperate not to wobble or fall as you climb inside, already scowling at the heels on your feet. The inside of the SUV is more spacious than you gave credit for, with the seats rearranged in a way that opens the space like a lounge of sorts, complete with ice bucket and the glow of colored lights overhead. You perch yourself on the edge of an open section of the long seat across from the only other person in the back of the car, save for the sound of the man closing the door behind you and climbing into the driver’s seat of the SUV from the other side of a thick panel of black glass. The eyes of the person across from you are dancing along your skin, you can feel them, but it’s not in a way that raises the hair on the back of your neck. When you look ahead, you find a pair of dark eyes, crinkled at the outer corners and smiling at you, one hand extended in your direction. “Good evening, thank you for coming.” His voice is smooth. Neutral, with a hint of amusement. You say nothing, waiting for him to elaborate. He is handsome, you’ll admit, but in an almost too-pretty way. Hair swept up and to the side, in a full three piece suit that looked as if it cost an absurd amount of money to buy. His posture, with one knee over the other and his torso draped at an angle, with one arm over the back of the seat across from you. He raises his thick brows once when you say nothing, still analyzing him. “Right.” he chimes, placing the glass from his hand in the holder beside him. “I’m Suho, the one who posted the job.” he states matter of factually, in a calm and even tone. The first indicator that his request is legitimate, you think. His posture is too relaxed and he speaks too clearly to be afraid of being overheard by nothing more than an anxious or guilty conscience. He is not out to get you. “What is it exactly that you need my help with?” you ask, matching his tone. A small part of you relaxes into the seat at your back, adjusting to sit a little more comfortably. He smiles wistfully, “I’m glad you asked,” a pause, before he sits up and places his elbows on his knees, hands folded together in front of him so he can address you directly. “We’re headed to a Gala as we speak. The Medical Advancement Technologies Gala, to be precise. There’s a certain politician attending that must be dealt with, but there is information I need from him in order to deal with him appropriately.” Suho explains, skirting the details. Whether at your expense or not, it pisses you off. “You don’t need to sugarcoat it with me, just so you know. So what did he do and why do you care?” He blinks at you, then quickly collects himself with a smile, “Apologies.” There’s a brief moment where his brows knit together before he continues, “He is… someone who uses his political power to do unforgivable things. I care, because one of those things is sex trafficking.” You don’t flinch, you don’t move, you don’t blink. You want to ask why that’s what Suho cares about, but you remind yourself that’s not the most important line of questioning right now. It’s not about Suho, it’s about the politician. Nodding when you notice he’s waiting for your response, “How is it that you came to find out about it, and how do you know it is him? Does he use an alias?” Suho hums with agreement, “He does. I’ve been tracking his association with trafficking for months, and have done what I can to gather information, but it is that last missing piece he keeps locked up that I need help with.” He makes a distinct motion with his right hand, elegant and graceful, almost as if dancing, so subtle and strange you almost miss it. It takes you a moment to realize that was his initiation to awaken his own Atlas. He begins flicking his way through a series of locked programs and folders in his own archives. Bold of him to do so directly in front of you. He doesn’t know what you’re capable of, and although it isn’t easy to read some of his things both backwards and at a speed to see anything useful, it isn’t impossible to pick out the keywords ‘Olympus’ and ‘Tartarus’ from some of his files. “So you need someone to hack into his Atlas to retrieve the final key.” you assume of him, understanding now exactly why the job was so specific. The man in front of you motions for you to open your own, intending to share some files with you. Blinking it to life, you accept his immediate offer to link up after a brief moment of hesitation. You have plenty of safeguards on your own tech, and there should be virtually no way for anyone to hack and see anything of value since you are the sole creator and user of Ghost tech, but something else tells you this won’t be the last of Suho you’ll be seeing. Suho nods when you accept, “Yes. You’ll be with me all evening, and I’ll introduce you to him. I promise there will be no sexual favors or activities involved, whatsoever.” You tilt your head, puckering your lips for a moment. Your eyes trail him up and down through the glowing blue lines between you, gauging his reasoning for a woman rather than a man. “Why a woman then?” He blanches momentarily, before shrugging, “Just my personal preference I suppose.” He meets your stare but doesn’t express any other emotion, as far as you can tell. “Yet you wish for no acts of sexual service?” Suho nods, “That’s right. Just be my date. I won’t even kiss you.” Nothing here screams danger to you, no fight or flight instincts kick in, but you find yourself asking a question and playing a game regardless. A game your inner self loathes, and your survival self thrives on. The addiction of power that comes with winning in any form. You make a show of eyeing him from the dark hair atop his head, all the way down to the perfectly polished tips of his shoes. “That’s a pity.” Suho, who you barely know, blinks at you and surprise settles on his face, trying to hide the smile in the apples of his cheeks while he pretends to look out the window. You wait, openly watching him for any subtle signs of odd behavior. For any slip ups. This is where checkmate is called in the game. The part where your victory is certain but the game drags on. And yet, no such euphoric victory sweeps through your bloodstream. Instead, he murmur’s a simple phrase to flip the tables and lance you with the first striking blow of information. Information that is dangerous. “This is why it had to be you.” Quickly your dress seems to morph its shape into the most constricting piece of clothing you’ve ever worn. You can do nothing, sitting perfectly still. Suho takes a moment to realize your reaction was intense, a deep furrow in his brow when he understands. “You’ve got nothing to fear from me, though.” he attempts to pacify your anxiety, holding up his empty palms. “Explain. Now.” is all you can force from your throat. With a sadness to his expression, he tucks the corner of his mouth into his cheek and gives you a hard stare. Then, he sighs. He sags a little more along the bench seat across from you, letting his heavy head hang a little lower, shoulders a little looser. Relaxing his posture to appeal and seem less dangerous. “We need your help, Ms. Maneater.” he breathes at last, as if the face were plain as day. Your silence is heard everywhere like the command of a god in the small space of the SUV. “I’m one of the rare someone’s who gives more fucks to humanity than to money. I came from money, and lots of it. Until my humanity was handed over to a human trafficking trade by my own parent’s filthy hands.” For the first time in a full minute you take one small breath. Nothing in his posture or words or expression rings false. There is no tension in his throat, wrought tight with lies. “You could say I had my eyes opened. Today, I manage a team of others like me, with their own trauma and stories of how they’ve survived to rise from the ashes. Our scars are what keep us motivated to put bad people away in the deepest pits of hell forever.” He talks lowly now, just low enough to be more than a whisper. Your lips form a word, barely audible, “Tartarus.” This time, it is Suho’s turn to be taken aback with shock. “Where did you find that name?” His reaction gives you the strength to relax a fraction, fighting through the tension in your jaw to speak, “You’ve got nothing to fear from me.” He scoffs as you throw his own words back at him. “I just read it on your Atlas.” It takes him a moment to weigh your words, understanding how careful he should be. “I didn’t think that was possible, I moved through them so quickly.” You nod, folding your hands together, “Well, you did say it had to be me. I can only allude to that meaning of my technical abilities if you know my moniker.” His smile reappears, not too much, but just enough to curve his lips, “We need your help.” “How exactly am I supposed to trust you? You didn’t tell me how you knew it was me.” Suho pouts his lips, considering your question, “You’re not as stealthy as you think you are,” he begins. “Although we mostly went off of clues and a hunch, Mrs. Fry and her AI did their due diligence to confirm your identity through your Atlas.” You narrow your eyes at him, ready with a threat. “Varian is amazing, yes? There is so much he can do to go undetected if he only looks, but doesn’t touch.” Your rage is simmering, in part that you are impressed, “Why not have him do the hacking for you then?” Suho clicks his tongue, “AI are not allowed at the MAT Gala, and even if he were it would be incredibly suspicious to bring an AI for a companion to such an event.” “And you prefer women anyway.” you chide sarcastically. You sigh, “How did you know I would come?” At this question, he fixes you with a hard stare as if deciding what to say, “I didn’t, but I had hope that the price tag would catch the Wolf’s eye for you when I had Varian post it on the brothel’s board.” “Excuse me?” you growl, ready to whip off your heel and stab him if necessary. You push the shame down that you let your guard down with Chan. What if he is in danger because of you? Although no danger seems to come from Suho, it doesn’t mean there aren’t other targets on your back. You can only hope that Chan isn’t as stupid as you are. “Relax,” Suho says, “I’m not interested in that information, and I hope I’ve already established that I’m not in it for the money.” A tap on the black glass between you and the driver pulls Suho’s attention away briefly, “We’ve got about 20 minutes to talk about the job.” It takes you a moment to nod at him, “Fine. Tell me what I need to do.” He smiles at you, “Thank you.” It takes ten minutes for Suho to share the information he’s gathered with you so far, from pictures to audio recordings and statements of witnesses given to others and collateral information taken from various sources. All with the initials of CIG under something called ‘Project Zero’.

Suho gently tries to escape the horrific details that ‘Project Zero’ uses funds from taxpayers in order to feed, shelter and educate homeless persons and families in an effort to reduce the number to zero, and the fact that it more than likely means the funds are being used to eradicate or enslave them in the trafficking market.

In the last ten minutes, you think of how you’ll collect the piece of information Suho needs. An offshore account where his embezzled funds are kept and used, under the alias of one CIG. Suho shows you backdated statements of funds going to and coming from the account from another account, a tertiary, privately owned finance management company connected to ‘Project Zero’.

Suho has the login information for the accounts, and is certain the politician is the CEO of the finance company managing the whole thing. All you have to do is hack in and find the items necessary to link all three together.

The Gala is… impressive. Deciding to trust Suho for the evening, at least, you walk beside him, arm in arm down the velvety carpet rolled out between the street and the venue.

“How are you connected to all this?” you whisper to him as you pause, waiting your turn for the media and news outlets to take your photos. It makes you uncomfortable.

Suho hums beside you, smiling and patting your hand affectionately, “Do you know Guardian Hospitals?”

The name is not uncommon to anyone as a well-known chain of general hospitals across Korea and China.

He pulls you forward gently, walking to the center space between two glittering, fluorescent obelisks that frame the ‘MAT GALA’ backdrop for photos. Several cameras flash in succession, making you squint against the headache you receive by waving a hand and smiling, playing your part beside Suho.

“I own the Korean branch.” he says when you’ve passed the threshold into the venue, grinning from ear to ear at your expression.

You suppose that’s not too far-fetched an explanation. You know three things about Suho now, and although you don’t have time to consider the surely intricate way to link it, you idly wonder if his connection to the hospital chain is how he knew to find you. Once or twice you’ve had to go, for illness or injury and at Chan’s insistence.

He doesn’t freely give up any other personal details about himself or ask you any questions. Nor do you, and the fact that he is patient and doesn’t pry is something you accept with good grace.

There’s an excruciating amount of idle small talk fluttering around you and Suho where you’re seated. Other people of importance come to the assigned table and take their seats. Some leave and come back. The same conversation floats around the table over and over again, asking the same uncaring greeting questions.

Some, like yourself, are deep into their Atlas’s, reading articles or working to answer emails or draft important papers or speeches- even in the middle of an event like this, too preoccupied to leave their work alone.

You can’t say you blame them, considering you’re here doing the same thing, regardless of it being the sole purpose you’re wearing this ridiculous outfit in the middle of an uncomfortable situation.

Suho’s fingers gently caress the point of your elbow, subtle in the way he directs your shoulders to turn acutely to the right. His face leans close enough that only you will hear the words whispered at your ear, not that anyone else cares to listen.

“There, coming this way. Red suit.”

Only one person fits the description, and you reach for your drink on the table, taking a small sip as you watch to fit in with the movement of people around you. An older man, average build with a suit that looks just as expensive as the rest of the people here, a dark and bloody red.

You watch, leaning back slowly into Suho’s grasp as he slings one arm over the back of your chair and curls himself toward your shoulder to talk. A tactic you know to create a more intimate space and make watchful eyes turn away with discomfort.

Suho’s talking in your ear again as the man approaches. A slight moment of unexpected anxiety raises your heartbeat a fraction, wondering if you’ll have to speak to him. The tension dissipates as he stops at the table directly behind yours and pulls out a chair, talking immediately with someone he knows at the table. The breath you didn’t know you’d been holding escapes from your throat in a long, quiet exhale.

Suho notices your anxiousness, taking your hand and patting it gently as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to touch you with such care. Somehow, the action quells you nerves.

You’ve hacked people before, but never someone who looked as powerful or important, and never in the presence of the public eye.

Your counterpart leans closer to your ear again with a smile, “Relax,” he says. “Nobody is paying you any attention.”

His words aren’t enough to hold back the wildness in your expression, and he chuckles softly, “Not that you trust me very much, but I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. For once, you have someone literally looking out for you.”

This time, his assurance cuts deeper, but not in a painful way. There’s a sincerity in his tone you can’t dispel, and it helps ground you.

You blink, slow and purposefully, and the soft and familiar blue glow of your Atlas casts a wave of color on your skin that washes over you like a comforting touch. It steadies you to dive deep into your world.

Part of you is weary about Suho watching, afraid he may somehow know about your Ghost tech. You briefly consider this a test to see how true to its name your self-made program is, and the part of your conscience that wins is curious to see if you pass.

Refusing to let it weigh you down, you get to work.

________________________________________

Fourteen hours later, you’re sitting at a window seat table sipping strawberry milk and fidgeting with the in-ear piece you just finished outfitting with the latest hologlass tech.

The rays of sunlight warm your arm where its closest to the window, and the chattering of the bustling cafe helps fight your drowsiness. There isn’t a crowd here, and the noise is just the slow side of steady that its easy to pick up the conversation of anyone around.

So, you listen. To an older couple talking about the vacation they are on, although you’re not sure why anyone would vacation in this city. You listen to the table of young people in the corner booth talking about homework and research papers as they simultaneously watch a single tablet with a lecture playing at the head of the table.

You listen, when the middle aged man closest to your table laughs. “What a deplorable monster.”

The sentence piques your interest. Stealing a glance, you notice he’s commenting on the news.

News that shows a headline of ‘Breaking News’, and a video clip of a politician being walked down the wide and pristine granite steps of the city judicial building. He’s handcuffed, and there are tons of reporters and cameras in his face that the police are shoving out of their way as they descend.

Your blood runs cold the moment you realize it’s the politician from last night. You freeze, with a mouthful of strawberry milk you refuse to swallow, and wait for the rest of the information.

“Choi In Gyong will go on trial for the undeniable and anonymously leaked evidence of embezzling funds from Project Zero- a campaign he sired to help the homeless- and participating in the purchase, acquisition and selling of people in an American sex trafficking cartel.” explains the newscaster. Her expression of disgust is plain for all to see.

Her AI counterpart, wearing a suit and tie, gives further details, “Jumbotrons all over the city, as well as the police headquarters were somehow hacked, but only to blast the evidence of his connection to such atrocities. Details on who or how the information was obtained and who hacked into these secure networks are still unknown. Many have speculated it was the work of Maneater, but one detail snufs out that option.”

The woman anchor smiles, turning to her co-host, “Oh? And what’s that, Yeoguk?”

Anchor Yeoguk cocks his head to one side, a quirk all his own, “The only indicator from whom the evidence was sent was the letter ‘O’.”

You jump as your phone rings, facedown on the table beside your forgotten milk. When you turn it over, you recognize the first two digits of it as a payphone number.

“Hello?”

A hum from the other end of the line, followed by a familiar voice, “Have you seen the news recently?”

You’re still a little shocked, but snort at the obvious excitement in his tone nonetheless while you stand and make your way out of the cafe.

“I just happened to catch the headlines.”

“And have you checked into your collections yet?”

You smile, “Not yet. Why, is there 1200c sitting prettily in there for me?”

Suho laughs from the other end of the line, “Yes, and more if you’re willing.”

The meaning of his statement catches you off guard, “What are you getting at?”

He hums again, but this time there’s no excitable tone to his voice, “I’d like to make you an offer, Ms. Maneater.”

You pause, pulling your phone away from your ear briefly to look at it questioningly.

“Last night’s job was… a test of sorts. We’ve had our eye on you for some time and last night proved you are just what we needed.”

“Am I supposed to be offended or impressed?” you ask through clenched teeth. You feel uneasy about this, you’ve never worked directly with anyone before on your hacking, and certainly not with such high risk and reward.

Suho laughs again at your reply, “Consider this the official, cordial invite to join Olympus.”

You scoff, of course he would call it that. However, you can’t deny that it is worth considering. After getting past the shock of your work having such a huge, direct effect, you feel… content.

Content that what you did was important to a lot of people like you. Content to know that there is a little bit of hope out there. Content to know that Suho wasn’t all bark and that perhaps, you can learn to trust him and his crew.

“I’ll give you some time to consider. It’ll be in your inbox.” Suho says. “Thanks for everything.”

“Wait!” you try, hoping to get some more information, “What will be in my inbox? How did you get my number? Hello? Hello…?” To your frustration, the dial tone is the only response you receive.

[ficsnooneaskedfor]

Call the Twi'lek Midwife

Chapter 5: Tea and Sweaters

Rating: M

Word count: 1.9k

Chapter summary: While the party continues outside, Echo and Citali get the chance for some time alone.

TW: None that I can think of.

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"This should fit you," Citali said as she handed Echo a brown sweater. "It was my father's. We gave away most of his clothing when he left for Ryloth, but I kept a few of his things. You can keep it if you'd like, he never really wore it. I doubt he'll miss it if he ever comes back."

"Thank you." Echo put the sweater on, careful not to rip it as he put his scomp-link through the sleeve. "Do you think he will? Come back, I mean." Citali shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know. My mother was born on Ord Mantell, but my father didn't come here until he was older. He was so desperate to leave Ryloth when he was young, but he still considers it his home. When he learned what was happening there during the Clone War, he felt it was his duty to go back and help. I'm very proud of him and what he's doing but I must admit, I do miss him a lot. He felt a lot of guilt leaving me, even though I was an adult long before he left. I think that's why he helped me build this house before leaving. He wanted to make sure I would have everything I needed if he didn't come back."

"You built this house?" he said sounding impressed.

Citali smiled. "With a lot of help. My father deserves all the credit, I just told him what I wanted and did what he told me to do." Citali walked over to a cabinet and took out two mugs. "Would you like some tea?"

"I uh...I must confess, I've never had tea," Echo said.

"Would you like to try some? It'll warm you up."

Echo became a bit self-conscious. "I have a hard time eating and drinking a lot of things since...all of this," he said pointing to his cybernetics.

Citali thought it over for a moment. "I think I have something that should be gentle on your stomach, if you'd like to try it."

He nodded yes, trusting her judgment.

Citali went to the pantry where Echo saw many glass containers filled with different herbs. She grabbed one containing a spiky-looking dried plant with brown petals.

"I give this tea to some of my patients. Sometimes pregnant people have a lot of issues with nausea and vomiting. This tea is very mild and helps settle the stomach." He watched her as she put the plant in the kettle and filled it with water, then turned the stove on low heat.

"While that heats up, would you uh...like a tour of the house?" she said almost laughing at herself. The house was tiny and there wasn't a whole lot to see, but she figured it would be the polite thing to do.

"I'd love that," Echo said, eager to learn anything about the captivating woman she wish to share. She showed him the living room where she had a shelf full of books and a tall tree-shaped object in front of a large window that she explained was a toy for her loth-cat kitten to play on. Echo took a few moments to see what kind of things she liked to read. Citali then showed her small bedroom that was just big enough to keep a bed, her clothing, and not much else. There were some plants hanging from the ceiling and a nightstand with several books on it she was currently reading. Then she took him to the largest room in the house.

"And this is my office," she said with a hint of pride. It was her favorite part of her home after all. Echo's eyes widened as he looked around while Citali told him about it. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It did smell vaguely of chemicals used to sterilize instruments and surfaces, but it also smelled like something had just been freshly baked. Pleasant but not overpowering. The walls were painted a calming, soft blue and most of the light in the room came from a skylight above them. More plants hung from the ceiling by large windows and a suncatcher hung in one of them, causing an array of colors to be cast throughout the room. There were pictures of Citali, her friends, and her family around the room, as well as a few paintings hung on the walls. There was a small desk and behind it sat a case filled with texts and books related to Citali's field. A pink chair and a matching couch surrounded a table, a dish of candy in the middle of it. Beside the couch was a box filled with old toys and books from her childhood, to keep any children that came to their parent's appointments happy. There was also an exam table with drawers on the side, some medical equipment sat on the window sill nearby. He spotted some of the supplies he, Omega, and his brothers had taken from the hospital, all organized on shelves next to more equipment and herbs in glass jars, all just high enough out of reach from any curious, little hands.

He had a hard time believing anything remotely medical occurred in this room. It was so different from the medical facilities he was familiar with. On Kamino, the facilities felt cold, intimidating, and harsh. This room felt like part of a home: warm, inviting, tranquil.

"This...is wonderful," he said sincerely, smiling. It was like this room was a representation of Citali's own personality, which Echo was certain was the point. Citali smiled proudly.

"Thank you. I put a lot of thought and time into this office. I want my patients to feel at home."

"Oh, I'm sure they do. If I was your patient, I would feel very at ease in here."

"Thanks," she said giggling. "I still have a little work to do to it, but I'm happy with it for now."

"I have to ask though," his curiosity getting the better of him, "what's with the bathtub?" he said looking at the tub that was sitting against one of the walls.

Citali laughed, surprised she'd forgotten. "It's actually a birthing tub. My patients can use it in labor to help with their discomfort, some even give birth in it."

"You let your patients give birth here?"

"Well most decide to give birth at home, but if they want to or their home isn't safe to give birth in, they come here. My patients that live in the city all come here to have their babies since midwives aren't allowed to practice there."

Her kindness was beginning to astound Echo. He couldn't think of anyone he'd met that was as compassionate and caring as Citali, and he could feel himself falling even harder for her the more they spoke to each other.

They then heard the kettle on the stove whistling.

"Oh, tea is ready," she said ushering him to the door.

She first strained the tea through a sieve, then poured it into two mugs, one for her and one for Echo. She handed the mug to Echo and they both sat down at her kitchen table.

"If you don't like it or it makes you feel unwell, don't feel the need to drink it. I won't be offended," she said. Echo took a sip. The tea had a mild, sweet, and nutty flavor to it and almost instantly he felt his nervous stomach begin to settle down.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I actually like this a lot," he said honestly. Very few things tasted good to him anymore. "It's very good. Thank you."

Citali smiled with relief. "You're welcome. I'm very glad you like it."

They spent quite some time drinking their tea and chatting. Echo asked her what her favorite color was and she asked his. They talked about what they liked to do in their free time, finding they both shared a love of reading. Echo told some funny stories of his time as a cadet that made Citali laugh, and she told him stories about her work and her childhood. After several cups, they remembered their friends outside and decided it was time to rejoin everyone.

Everyone was still chatting, eating, and drinking. As Citali and Echo walked out, the loth-cat ran as fast as she could across the yard to Citali, rubbing against her leg and purring. She picked her up and began petting her head.

"Did you miss me sweet girl?" she said in a voice Echo had heard people use when speaking to babies and small children. It made him smile. "I know, I was inside a long time, I'm so sorry!"

"Does she have a name?" Echo asked.

Citali laughed. "Snowball. I know, not very original. But in my defense, she was a gift and had already been named when I got her. It felt wrong to change her name when she already knew it. Plus I couldn't really think of a better one, to be honest. You can pet her if you want." Echo held his hand out slowly, the loth-cat smelled his hand first then rubbed her little head against the palm of his hand. He smiled. He had never petted an animal before. Citali took it as a good sign that he gained her trust so quickly. Once the loth-cat had received enough attention, she hopped down from Citali's arms and went to the door and meowed, signaling she was ready for some time alone. After she let Snowball into the house, she and Echo rejoined the party, getting a few curious looks from their friends.

Though Citali wanted to spend more time with Echo, she knew it would be rude to ignore her other guests. First, she spent some time with Cid before she had to leave to return to the bar for the evening rush. Before she left, Cid told her to be sure to visit the bar again soon. Then she spent some time with Tech, telling him about the different plants growing in her garden, the other guests dropping in to listen as they pleased. Citali also showed Omega her office and allowed her to borrow a few books to look through, her eyes wide open in wonder as she flipped through the pages.

While Citali was saying goodbye to the Rodian family, Hunter, Tech, Wrecker finally had a chance to pull Echo aside and speak to him privately. "So? What's been going on? You two were in the house for a long time," Hunter said, mindful not to tease Echo as much as they had been.

"We just...talked." It was the truth. There were no pivotal revelations or romantic moments per se, but Echo could feel that their connection had grown stronger. He wasn't sure how to put it into words, but Wrecker, Tech, and Hunter seemed to understand.

Unable to resist just a little teasing, Wrecker said chuckling "Very nice sweater, Echo."

Echo shook his head and smiled. He found he didn't mind the teasing as much now. "She noticed I was...a bit cold. So she gave this to me and made me some tea. That's all that happened." They all looked at him suspiciously. "Really," he said.

Hunter gave him a smirk and a side-eye. "Sure, whatever you say Echo."

@darkangel4121

[skellebonez]

You write Tang and Red's dynamic so well! Could I ask for more Tang being a wholesome dad to Red with 7 please?

Tang and TLT Red are really interesting to write like this, I could write 500 prompts of them interacting! I decided to go slightly farther back in the timeline for this one. Like. VERY far back in the timeline. So far back this is how Tang decided he was dad now back.

I am apparently incapable of not writing things that are nearly full length fics right now. This is as long as a chapter of SFAUT.

“Do you need anything else?”

The new routine... or was it a habit? Both? Whatever it was,Tang had decided it was alright, despite the fact it had first started out of a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. How could it not have, with one of the first and most stubbornly determined enemies that had been fighting MK showed up at Pigsy’s Noodle’s after hours with two Bull Clones holding onto the side of his truck, haphazardly packed with boxes they could see through the windows and holding an injured arm?

“As of 6 hours ago I am no longer assisting my parents” was the explanation Red Son had given, short and to the point, when they had all raised their weapons (makeshift in the case of himself and Pigsy) at the sight. No one had believed him at the time, but apparently something made MK stop the demon when he made to leave without another word.

----------

“What do you mean? Why the boxes?” MK asked, gripping onto the back of the demon’s coat. He let go and shrunk his staff when he tugged at it and Red Son took in a sharp breathe of pain. Clearly he didn’t think Red Son was a threat with his injury, “What happened to your arm?”

“My shoulder was dislocated,” Red Son explained in shocking honesty at the last question, turning to look at the group once again in only slight hesitation. Tang realized that he looked... tired. His eyes were red and irritated, it reminded him of how MK’s eyes looked when Pigsy first taught him how to cook and he got a face full of hot broth steam in them. “There was a... complication with some demons that wished to do business with my parents. They have been dealt with.” Tang did not miss how MK’s eyes widened in realization. He must have known was Red was referring to.

“Shouldn’t that be in a sling?” Tang asked without thinking, earning a tight glare from Pigsy and Mei as he lowered the bowl he was brandishing back to the countertop. “What? It’s what you’re supposed to do!” Something was... off. Tang didn’t know what, but something didn’t feel right about this. And not in a ‘this is secretly a trap’ kind of way.

Red Son looked at him oddly, then back down as the arm he cradled in his uninjured one before addressing MK again with an aggravated sigh. “I supposed you’ll find out eventually, you’re persistent like that. I have a... safe house, I suppose you’d call it, hidden away in the mountains far outside the city. Not even my parents know about it. I’m going to stay there. I suppose you could consider me defected to your side from now on, should a large enough problem arise.”

“Did something happen with your parents?” Tang asked, taking a step forward with a raised eyebrow and ignoring the yells of “what are you doin have you lost your marbles!?” from Pigsy and the shocked look from Mei.

The odd look was back on Red’s face, mixed with surprise and anger this time. “NO.”

“Because people usually don’t run off to a safe house their family doesn’t know about and defect to the other side of a conflict unless something happened.” Tang emphasized each of the most important parts of his accusation carefully, hoping that at least MK would pick up on what he was hinting at. The silence behind him told him Pigsy seemed to. “Especially with not a truck packed with what looks like everything they own, and double especially when they take the time to stop to visit someone they hate to tell them goodbye.”

“It-!” Red started to snap, a shaky sigh leaving him as he calmed himself. “It’s none of your concern.”

“Did your parents hurt you?” MK asked softly, a smattering of horror under-toning his words and tang could head Mei choke back a noise behind them. It wasn’t an angry one, and definitely wasn’t happy. Pigsy remained quiet.

“NO!” Red snapped  with his hair ablaze as he turned back to MK, hissing in pain as he jostled his arm. “They wouldn’t-! They-! Not... not like that.” His temper and and hair and voice fizzled out like someone dumping a bucket of water on a campfire and Tang did not miss the implications of those words, whether Red had meant to let them slip past or not.

“You need medical attention,” Tang stated, putting his hand on Red Son’s good shoulder gently. Red Son tensed under his touch. “I cannot in good conscious let you leave without that at least, especially not if you’re telling the truth about not fighting us anymore.”

“Why?” Red asked, odd look back. Tang realized it was confusion. “I know I just said I’m not your enemy, but why are you offering to help me?”

“Because I want to.”

----------

Exactly WHY that managed to work, Tang still didn’t know. But for some reason his words seemed to have struck a chord with Red Son and he agreed to have his Bull Clone driver follow them (them being MK, Mei, and Tang as Pigsy still had to manage the Noodle Shop) to the secret base (or the Sea-Crate HQ) at Sandy’s.

Sandy was shockingly understanding, welcoming him onto his boat for treatment with just the barest explanation. It probably helped that half of Sandy’s cats immediately flocked to the fire demon to run against his legs and his only reaction to them was a hesitant look down as he tried not to step on them.

Red was unusually quiet the entire time, as if he was trying to understand what exactly was happening around him. Mei tried to make snide remarks to get a rise out of him, to just growls and glowers. MK tried to talk to him about anything, mostly Monkey King related questions, but again he got the same reaction. Mei eventually changed her tactic to talking about tech and that got at least some responses from Red. Eventually they just watched as Sandy patched the demon up and all of his cats piled on top of him to the confusion and amusement to everyone.

It wasn’t until Sandy had properly patched Red up that Tang suggested he just stay at the base for the night instead of heading out that everyone not named Red Son seemed to realize what Tang’s real plan was.

Keep Red Son close just in case. Tang did not think Red was lying, not in the slightest. He was acting too off for this to be an act. But he knew that not everyone on Team MK would agree with him. After all, it was easier to keep an eye on your enemy if he was right next to you. But Tang did not think he was lying. Tang thought he needed help.

He seemed at least somewhat impressed by the base but didn’t really say much. Sandy had brought up the important question of “what if DBK and PIF find out you are here?”, to which Red explained that if they discovered he was there they wouldn’t just storm the place and drag him home given demon customs and the like. Using the safe house instead of his penthouse (and wasn’t it a trip to learn he had a penthouse) was more for him to not have to deal with their attempts for as long as possible.

MK and Mei had jokingly told him he owed them for letting him stay and while their reaction to him agreeing to pay them back whatever they liked was amusing, it made Tang wonder exactly what kind of situations Red Son was used to. Where he would have to pay everything done for him back. He seemed to accept their rebuttal that he just needed to promise not to light anything on fire easily enough.

“Do you need anything else?” was his final question to Red before they left him be, trusting the security system and Sandy (and the ocean) to handle anything that may come up. He placed a hesitant hand on Red’s head, something he did for MK and something he hoped would not offend Red Son. He felt the heat of the fire that would flare up his hair. He could feel it fluctuate, heating and cooling and heating again in response to something. Fascination couldn’t be erased from Tang’s face.

Red looked at him with that odd confused look again and said. “No... but... thank you?”

Red Son announced in the morning that he would be staying and would join Team MK.

----------

“Do you need anything else?” Tang asked, placing his hand on Red’s head. This had become... something. Something he just did whenever he could. A way to gauge how Red was feeling and a way to show him he trusted him given how easily his hair flared up. As well as a way to show he did care. They ended the day the same way every time, the question and the gesture one after the other.

“No, but thank you,” was the reflexive response from the fire demon. It was said so much easier now, so much more honestly. Sometimes he would answer with an affirmative, long ago hesitant but now just as easy as saying the sky was blue.

Tang couldn’t have been more proud of Red Son. He was still the proud and loud and showoff-y and fiery tempered demon he always was, but he was also trying to show he wanted to change. Wanted to be a hero now. Red was still unsure of a lot, but he seemed to be molding himself into the entire team well. Even Pigsy had quickly taken a shine to him after he offered to fix his kitchen appliances!

Tang also did not miss how he was starting to forget to call him Mr. Tang now, at very rare times. Whether it was because of MK calling him something else or just how Red Son felt, the scholar wasn’t sure. But hearing Red Son stop and correct himself with a “thanks d-MR. tANG!” was also something. Tang had decided that was alright as well.

DBK, on the other hand, didn’t seem to think it was given his reaction in that last fight when that happened. But Tang couldn’t rightly care what he had to say about it.

[lilihasabadweek]

“Oh perfect,” he nods quickly, grinning as Ewan flips to the page. “Jason do you need him to stand up there with you or?”

“Oh no he can sit,” Jason waves a hand. “That’s totally fine. Y’all came in for me so just sit and relax,” he grins.

“Well that’s very kind,” George hums. “Alright, let’s get started.” He reads the line of the Kaminoan scientist first. “This is Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. He’s come to chef on our progress.”

“Your clones are impressive,” Ewan hums, staring Jason down. “You must be very proud.”

Jason smirks, shrugging a shoulder. Notable to Hayden as slightly too much motion for such a tactical bounty hunter. “I’m just a simple man makin’ my way through the universe.” And a slight line shift that doesn’t sound quite right.

Ewan raises a brow only slightly, the corner of his lips tugging up into a small, ‘gotcha’ smile. “Ever made it as far into the interior as Coruscant?”

Jason hums. “Once or twice.”

“Recently?”

“Possibly…” he looks Ewan up and down.

Jason studies him a moment, then turns to say something to Boba- in Mando’a, which surprises George. Perhaps he thought Fett Code meant Mando’a… either way, he needs someone to nail this character- because it will further get the clones set up perfectly. And Jason just isn’t quite there.

“That’s perfect,” George nods. “Thank you! Thank you both. Excellent. Lili? Hayden? Do you guys have anything else you wanna see? I think I’ve got all I need.”

I shake my head, “no, no need for us to see more if you’re good!” I shrug, “also Jason I am obsessed with games of thrones, killed that, king.”