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spacemagicandlaserswords · 1 year

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The Clone Wars 2x5 'Landing at Point Rain' Reaction

YEET THE CLONE

Gif from this post by @elivanto

Is this the first instance that we see of Yeet the Clone? I’m pretty sure it is. If so, then what a beautiful introduction to one of the Jedi’s favourite pastimes: Yeeting their Clones. Poor Rex. I also loved the part before this where he just appears behind the Droideka that Ahsoka was fighting on the top of the wall, smoothly and silently steps through its shield and then puts a blaster bolt through the back of its head a la Trinity to Agent Smith in The Matrix. Certified Rex Is A Badass moment and it was a really well shot and framed moment that emphasised just how highly skilled the clones are. I did wonder how he got up to the top of the giant wall that quickly though. Rex, did you yeet yourself up there? Do you secretly want to be yeeted?

I hadn’t really clocked onto this until this episode but it’s reminder that Rex is also an ARC, along with being the absolute BAMF that he is and The Captain to everyone. I was watching episodes 2x6 and 2x7 (more to come on those later) and was wondering why Cody didn’t have a kama. Surely Marshal Commander Cody has a kama? Is Cody not an ARC? Wookieepedia doesn’t list him as one so I’m guessing he mustn’t be, which seems decidedly odd seeing as he, along with Rex, are basically held up as examples of the ultimate clone. Though The Bad Batch aren’t ARCs but then they are a special category of genetically enhanced commandos in a spec ops squad of their own. Does this mean kama’s are purely an ARC thing? Either way, Rex looks suitably badass in his kama and Cody should get one too, as a treat. More clones in kamas pls.

Just after poor Rex gets yeeted off the wall by both of his jedis’, we very clearly see that Jedi are able to safely slow and stop the descent of a clone who is falling from a great height. They can even do this while falling from a great height themselves. So where is The Bad Batch’s jedi to stop Tech’s fall? Hmmmmmm?! I have Thoughts about this that I may cobble together into a post at a later date.

Hello to Trapper, who we’re introduced to as the only other survivor along with Obi-Wan from when their troop transport (I think they’re LAAT/i’s?) was shot down and crashed. I’m always slightly worried when we’re introduced to a new named clone. I thought Wooley was absolute Red Shirt material (to mix metaphors with the two main sci-fi franchises that start with Star) when he was introduced in 1x20 ‘Innocents of Ryloth’. The setup did not seem like it bode well for his survival. Four clones go off on their own on a dangerous mission to scout ahead. Wooley, the only clone out of the group without paint on their armour, is paired up with Cody (who has plot armour) and the other two clones, Waxer and Boil, have both been introduced and characterised at the start of this episode. Wooley was set up to be the obvious Red Shirt of the group, doomed to be blasted by the first droid they encounter while the main characters are left to struggle on in a desperate bid to complete their mission. Don’t get me wrong, I was very glad it didn’t happen! Subverting expectations like that worked well in this situation and the entire narrative focus was on Waxer and Boil anyway. More clones need to live.

That was one thing that stood out to me in this episode, the sheer number of clones that were killed right in front of us. There were so many. It was a constant pattern throughout the episode. Clone after clone after clone dying, and for what? I’m assuming this is the writers making a point about the futility of war and the utterly pointless loss of life. On top of all this, the clones are just expected to keep going, always moving forward, nothing else mattering apart from following orders (*sobs*) and completing the mission. It was a very sobering way of emphasising the lot of the clones and the way they’re treated and viewed. Just the sheer number of LAAT/i’s alone that were shot down was so stark, and each of those carries 35 troops. Or at least that’s what Wookieepedia says. I didn’t think they looked large enough to carry that many troops in the episode, probably closer to around 10 or so clones.

On a lighter note, I really enjoyed how a number of the LAAT/i’s had custom nose art! There was one with what looked like a nexu that I think appeared twice and another with a very cool looking clone trooper helmet that drawn to look like a skull. I love little in-universe touches like that. Ok I’ve done a little bit more digging and omg the LAAT/i with the nexu nose art is called the Bad Kitty! I am crying, this is hilarious, I love it.

Also, Cody can you come and get your husband. He’s all dusty and dirty and slumped against some boxes in the middle of a battlefield pretending not to be injured. Somewhere in the background is the decidedly miffed countenance of the 212th’s medic. Do we ever discover who the medic of the 212th is? Does Ghost Company have a medic? The only medic I know of is Kix and he hasn’t been introduced yet, plus he’s with the 501st anyway.

This is all further confirmation that I am entirely here for the clones. Sure the jedi with their fancy laser swords are cool and all that and I will admit that I’m growing rather fond of Ahsoka. But the clones. The Clones. Give me everything about the clones.

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harrumphingtons · 1 year

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!!!TBB S2E14 "Tipping Point" Spoilers Under the Cut!!! -- Episode Thoughts

THIS EPISODE WAS SO GOOD AHHHHHH THAT WAS AMAZING

CAN CROSSHAIR PLEASE JUST BE SAFE AND HAPPY NOW I AM BEGGING YOU FILONI

HOWZER IS SAFE HOWZER IS ALIVE HOWZER HOWZER HOWZERRRRRRRRRRR

Echo was such a badass omg that whole sequence was incredible Echo is back Echo is going what he does best yessssssss

Echo is also wearing pants!!! Not just the kama!!! Makes him less conspicuous and less recognizable i guess? Although I kind of miss a kama and I definitely was wishing he'd. y'know. have rex's handprint back on his chest. i really thought that would happen.

CROSSHAIR WAS NEVER TRYING TO ESCAPE HE JUST WANTED TO PROTECT WITH BROTHERS AND SISTERS I CANNOT PLS HELP ME AHHHHHH

Also him missing shots and being genuinely out of it was like. Thank you for actually showing some side effects of drugs and torture. But please stop this is scaring me. Can he be rescued very soon please and thank you.

Wrecker being so happy fishing and helping out rebuilding ahhhhhh I love it I love the domesticity I love that they're putting down roots I love that he's happy and I HATE that it is likely not going to stay this way

OMEGA MISSED ECHO SO MUCH OH ME OH MY I ALMOST CRIED THAT WAS SO SWEET

Aside from me ranting about smaller details in the episode, I do have some actual speculations and theories and stuff:

Echo and Hunter's conversation was very, very, very intriguing, as many others have pointed out. I've seen a couple people saying, in regard to the "when will it be enough thing?" thing, that Echo likely feels like he has to atone for all the brothers he "killed" while he was imprisoned, even if he rationally knows it wasn't his fault. I think this might be part of it, but I also feel like the point of this conversation was to further highlight the differences between Echo and the rest of the Batch in terms of how they think and who they consider family. Hunter doesn't understand the point of trying to rescue all the other clones and sees it as a sort of valiant mission that Echo and the others will eventually have to give up on when 1) they feel they've done enough, or 2) they realize it's impossible to save everyone. meanwhile, Hunter's greatest objective is keeping his family safe. However, Echo (and Rex and Gregor and all the other regs in the network)'s mission objective is more similar to that than Hunter realizes. When Hunter points out the the Empire is too powerful to defeat, Echo says, "It's not about that. It's about fighting for our brothers." Echo is fighting to keep his family safe, too, but his family isn't like Hunter's--it's a lot larger.

Echo and Rex and the rest of the "regs" have always been shown as regarding the entirety of the clone army as their brothers. No one in the Bad Batch has ever shown that kind of attitude. I'm not saying that's without reason; they likely grew up isolated and when they did come into contact with regs, they were often bullied. But it is important to note that the Bad Batch's family does not extend beyond Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, Omega, Echo, Crosshair somewhat (given obvious current tensions between him and the others, he's not entirely part of their family at the point), and to some extent regs who've treated them with kindness and care about them, like Cody and Rex. However, Echo's family not only includes the Batch but also Rex and Cody and Gregor and Howzer, and every other clone in existence because all of the regs were raised together, as brothers. Echo's dedication to (since the very beginning of season 1) fighting the empire, joining Rex, freeing or otherwise helping other clones, etcetera, has never been about taking down a power he knows is too powerful to defeat. It's always been about saving and protecting his family, the same way everything Hunter has done since the Batch took Omega and left Kamino has been to protect his family.

Another thing I've been seeing talked about a lot: Hunter's skepticism in regard to Crosshair's message. A lot of people have been criticizing him for this, but I personally think he was completely justified. Crosshair did, after all, choose to stay with the Empire of his own accord, and since Hunter has no idea when Crosshair's chip was removed (although I'm pretty sure it's widely assumed to be right after the ion engine scorch on Bracca), he can't be sure which actions of Crosshair's can be blamed on the chip. Did Crosshair order his squad to fire on Omega on Bracca, or was that the chip? Hunter doesn't know. And like I said before, Hunter's main priority is protecting his family, a family Crosshair is currently not exactly a part of. His belief that it is possibly a trap is not unfounded, at all.

Moving on from that, I'm very excited to see how the last two episodes go down. Theories: Obviously, the Batch, now including Echo again, and maybe with the help of Rex, Gregor, Fireball, or another clone in the network, is going to end up trying to rescue Crosshair. Whether this happens because Omega is taken to Tantiss or just because they want Crosshair back is to be seen, but I think it's going to be the first one -- or maybe even both mixed together. The Batch will leave Pabu with the intent of finding Crosshair, and this is how Omega is captured, and this is how the find Tantiss in the first place, which leads them to Crosshair. As much as I hate to think about it, it is very likely someone will die at the end of the season and it's probably going to be either Echo or Crosshair. If it is either of them, it'll likely be in a sacrifice move to save the others -- or, in Crosshair's case, maybe even to save just Omega. Ultimately, either of those deaths would tie into the title of this episode, making either Echo's differing thoughts or Crosshair's situation and one of their subsequent deaths Hunter's tipping point. It would be what pushes him over the edge and into the fight against the Empire, for revenge for his brother.

#sw tbb spoilers #tbb s2 spoilers #s2e14 tipping point spoilers #tbb spoilers #the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb crosshair #tbb omega

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cabezadeperro · 2 years

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50 for Mereel/Fox? Love the way you characterize Mereel in that pairing.

hi anon! the prompt was putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up. established relationship, 650w, T. set during the war and featuring cody :)

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Fox stops in front of the open door and scowls.

The door was locked, but that means very little. His office isn’t empty. Mereel, wearing his shell and leaning against the desk; Cody, sitting on his chair, the jacket of his dress greys hanging from the back and his hat in Mereel’s hands.

They turn to look at him at the same time, and Cody’s eyes flash. He smiles, tiny and smug, and folds his arms. He has his boots on the edge of the table, and he looks comfortable and knowing and Fox’s very glad he’s well and alive but right now he’d give quite a lot for him to be well and alive and on the other side of the galaxy.

Mereel looks like he always does: he winks at Fox, long fingers playing with the hat, and Fox didn’t know he was back on Triple Zero, and he thought he didn’t like Cody too much—something about Jedi and bootlickers and Sergeant Skirata; Fox stopped paying attention halfway through—but his presence isn’t as much of a shock as it should be.

He slips from the edge of the table, kama swishing around his hips, and Fox steps further into his tiny office and locks the door behind him again: whatever happens here, he doesn’t want any of his men to see it. The last thing Mereel needs is a kriffing public.

Cody’s grin grows, and he sits up on Fox’s chair, dropping his feet to the duracrete noiselessly.

“We’re meeting tonight,” Fox tells him. Cody, Fox, Cody’s captain, Ponds. Some other people whose names Fox can’t remember. What are you doing here?

Cody shrugs: wouldn’t you like to know. “We are,” he agrees easily. He stands up and starts rounding the desk; Mereel throws his hat at him, and Cody grabs it from the air without looking, eyes still on Fox. he stops in front of him and knocks Fox’s pauldron with his knuckles; Fox rolls his eyes and takes off his bucket.

Cody’s smile softens a bit, and when he reaches out for Fox, Fox goes. He rests his forehead against Cody’s for a beat, breathing in Cody’s familiar smell, soaking in his warmth.

“Well, that’s adorable,” Mereel comments. Cody blinks his eyes open and steps away. He glances at Mereel, eyes suddenly flat, and Mereel smirks. Blood in the water, and Mereel about to say something he shouldn’t and won’t regret.

Fox places his hand on his mouth; Mereel stiffens, scowling, and Fox pushes him away, one hand on his face and the other on his plackart. He turns to look at Cody, tilting his head at him, and Cody exhales. He places his hat back on his head and leaves without looking back.

Mereel huffs. Fox cuts his eyes at him and folds his arms.

“Rude,” he says, and Fox—Fox just laughs at him, hoarse and painful.

He crowds Mereel against the door; Mereel scowls down at him, pouting like he does every time something doesn’t go his way, and when Fox licks into his mouth, he sinks his teeth into Fox’s lower lip and pulls, just once and too hard.

Fox leans away.

“Play nice or fuck off,” he reminds Mereel, and Mereel—for a beat, Fox’s sure he’s going to leave, that Fox’s finally pushed him too hard, but then Mereel sighs and lowers his eyes and it’s mostly theatre but he also stays where he is, between Fox and the door, his fingers hooked around Fox’s belt.

Fox sighs, suddenly very tired. He leans forward, and when Mereel doesn’t move away he hides his face in the crook of Mereel’s neck, right under his jaw, breathing in clean sweat and aftershave and the chemical smell of Mereel’s blacks.

One bare hand wraps itself around the back of Fox’s neck, gripping tightly, before scratching at his hair.

“I always play nice,” Mereel lies grumpily. Fox snorts.

#foxreel #foxmereel #mereelfox #cloneshipping #repcomm #touch prompts #commander fox #mereel skirata #maría writes #mereel: kal'buir says that---#fox: [starts thinking about the funny looking tooka he saw the previous night]

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lanami-legacy · 11 months

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so so so, on Marazi they have their tradition of when you wanna further a relationship you exchange jewellery (or just something wearable) with them. This can be platonic or romantic.

I was thinking of a version of this for Melinoe and Cody. Melinoe had given him a cape of hers to use as a disguise once that he made into a Kama when he started developing feeling for her, Cody gives Melinoe a piece of his armour that she turns into a necklace that she always wears along with Eglantine's pendant.

I don't know, I think it's a sweet metaphor for always carrying a piece of your loved ones with you.

#melody #melinoe lanami #showerthoughts

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jate-kara · 3 years

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“You know me.”

The blaster’s leveled at his heart; the barrel drives into his chest. The air between them is so still Obi-Wan thinks that, if he breathes just a little harder, if he speaks just a little louder, it might shatter.

The trooper’s clad in glistening midnight armor. A kama hangs about his waist. A leather pauldron sits on his left shoulder. His face is concealed by his helmet, but it doesn’t matter. The man has always been distinct in the Force; subdued as his signature might be now, that hasn’t changed.

Separated by star systems or side-by-side: he knows Cody.

“You know me,” Obi-Wan repeats, barely a whisper. The blaster doesn’t waver –but it doesn’t discharge, either. Cody's grip trembles.

“Traitor,” Cody grits out. His voice is gravelly. It’s not the voice filter. He adjusts his hold on his blaster. His finger twitches – and stops. “Jedi.”

The word is pained and broken, like he’s speaking through shards of glass. Obi-Wan aches, distantly and impossibly, to pull him close. To soothe him through. It’s a fool’s dream: something he thought of on his worst days, when he couldn’t make himself get out of bed and all he could do was stare at the blank ceiling back on Tatooine. He closed his eyes and he told himself that Cody was there, curled up beside him. That they’d found each other, after the war. That he woke to Cody tracing his jaw with a gentle touch. That he blinked awake from a heavy sleep to Cody’s warm brown eyes, dancing with mischief and maybe – when he deluded himself enough – love. He felt the lie sitting heavy in his chest when the suns rose.

And he let himself lie again.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Yours.”

Cody’s breath hitches. The blaster trembles. In one motion, he shifts it to a one-handed grip, then reaches up and rips his helmet away.

Even in the gloom of the abandoned Republic base, this graveyard of ghosts and memories, Obi-Wan can make out his face. His hair is shaved close to his skull. There are thin white streaks zigzagging through the dark fuzz on his scalp: jagged like lightning. The thin shaft of moonlight streaming through the cracked wall dances across his features. Plays across new scars. Some of them are from blades. Some from blasters.

Some could only have been made by a lightsaber.

Cody’s throat bobs. “Jedi,” he says again, and this time the word carries more reverence than curse.

The blaster dips, just a degree. Obi-Wan holds his hands up and makes himself wait. Bail Organa told him about the chips in the first months after the order buried the Republic. Told him that they weren’t meant to last long. Told him that the Empire was phasing out most of the clones.

But not Cody. Ten years in Imperial service.

Ten years alone.

Cody’s eyes are wild, wide and unfocused. His breath comes in labored gasps. “Kenobi,” he croaks. His voice cracks. He tries to lift the blaster, but it’s as if the end has been affixed with a lead weight. The barrel drops even further, swinging in an arc until the weapon hangs uselessly at his side. His shoulders slump. A strangled sob escapes him, cracking the cool night air and Obi-Wan’s heart all at once.

For a moment, they’re still.

Obi-Wan dares to reach out – to take hold of the blaster – to pull it away. The weapon falls to the ground between them.

And Cody falls with it.

#codywan #purge trooper cody #commander cody #obi-wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #my writing #not me going through my old drabbles and spam posting

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rowansparrow · 3 years

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By Any Other Name: Chapter Seven

Summary: You and Rex have a conversation on the rooftop.

Chapter Rating: Teen

Warnings: Alcohol, some drunk-ness. Sad, so very sad.

Ships: Rex x Female!Reader, Fives x Female!Reader, Clone OC x Female!Reader, other ships tbd.

Tags: #ByAnyOtherName, #BAON

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: *insert that Always Sunny in Philadelphia Meme: “NEWSFLASH ASSHOLE, REX HAS BEEN IN LOVE WITH READER THE ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME* As always, bless @fat-zygerrian for being my beta reader!

Comment if you want to be tagged! Reblogs are SO appreciated!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six

You were supposed to meet him that night.

You’d planned on going to 79’s instead of the rooftop as usual. Rose said the boys had missed you and wanted to play cards again. You’d gotten all dolled up and were about to head out when your comm beeped.

“Hey,” You grinned, shutting your apartment door behind you. “I was just heading out.”

“Yeah… about that,” Rose sounded embarrassed. “There’s been a change in plans. I won’t be able to make it. In fact, none of us will. We got – err – held up on base.”

“Really?” You asked, pausing as you started to head down to the main level of your building. “Okay… well can we meet after?”

“I’m not supposed to go off base but – yeah, yeah I’ll see what I can do. Keep your comm close.”

He hung up and you hesitated in the stairwell for a beat. Fuck it. Even if Rose couldn’t come along, you were still going to have a nice time tonight!

You had gotten more confident about going to 79’s ever since you and Rose had gotten close. You could recognize a few distinct faces now, just from people Rose had pointed out to you or introduced to you in passing. There was a notable absence of 501st blue, which at least confirmed Rose wasn’t just ditching you and had in fact gotten held up at the base with the rest of his battalion.

You approached the bar, settling in and glancing around to look for any familiar faces to keep you company while you waited for Rose. Further down the bar, you spotted Marshal Commander Cody and your breath hitched for just a moment. Rose had told you all about him – the most highly decorated clone soldier in the entire Republic Army. You would’ve been able to guess it even if Rose hadn’t told you about the curved scar on the side of his face. For the way Cody carried himself, even here, held an air of authority, of gravitas and poise.

He was talking to someone, the other person obscured by his own body. You ordered a drink, trying not to look as starstruck by the Commander as you felt.

“I’d try your luck with someone a little less ranked if I were you,” The bartender teased, catching you staring. “I’ve never once seen the Marshal Commander take up an offer to go home with somebody.”

“That’s – that isn’t my intention.” You blushed, taking the drink with a short huff. Still, you glanced at Cody again and watched him clap his hand on the shoulder of the man he’d been speaking with.

“Alright, see you around, Rex ‘ole boy. Stay out of trouble.”

Now that made you turn instantly. As Cody moved away, you were able to get a better look at the man he’d been talking to, and gods above, it was him. It was Captain Rex. Rose had told you so many stories about him that it felt strange finally seeing him in the flesh.

Rose had warned you about how much trouble you both could get in if anyone ever found out you were seeing each other. Your friendship was frowned upon enough as is, but now that it had become something more, Rose had given you the full dressing-down on what could happen to him if you were ever caught.

As such, you hadn’t ever met Rose’s superior officer, and since Rose wasn’t here…

You downed the rest of your drink quickly. There’s no reason the Captain would be suspicious of you. Besides, you wanted to meet him, get to know the man who was such a huge part of Rose’s life.

You wanted to meet his family.

“Hi.”

In truth, maybe your introduction could’ve been a little stronger. But as you sidled over to the Captain and leaned one hand on the bar, he gave you a small smile, nodding once.

“Ma’am.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Rex seemed surprised and looked you over carefully. He seemed to be waging a war with himself for a split second but eventually nodded.

“I don’t see why not.”

You grinned, settling into the seat beside him and waving the bartender over, tucking a hand under your chin. “What’s your name? I’m Y/N.”

“Rex.” He replied, offering his hand to shake. You repressed the urge to giggle. He was such a gentleman.

“What do you drink, Rex?”

He chuckled. “Whiskey.”

“Two of those, then.” You told the bartender. Rex’s eyebrow jumped up but you barely noticed.

“So. You must be a Captain, right? With all this fancy gear?” You said, motioning to his pauldron and kama.

“How d’you know I’m not just some ARC trooper who likes showing off?” Rex replied, smirking and leaning forward a bit.

“I’ve met an ARC trooper or two, and you don’t seem the type to boast.”

Rex chuckled again, taking his glass as the bartender returned. “You must get around, then.”

It wasn’t an insult and you didn’t take it as such. “Maybe I’m just good at making friends.”

Rex smiled and his eyes seemed to appraise you for a moment, taking all of you in, calculating. He took a swig.

“You here with any of those friends?” He asked.

“All alone, tonight.” You replied. “My friends got held up and you looked lonely. Thought I’d keep you company. It’s the least I can do for a soldier like you.”

Rex chuckled, low and sweet. “Most pretty girls don’t just find themselves in 79’s.” Rex drawled, setting his glass down again. “From what I can tell, they’re usually looking for trouble.”

He turned slightly to face you better. “Are you looking for trouble, mesh’la?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew that word, but didn’t know what it meant. Rose had called you that before.

“It looks like I already found it.” You replied.

Rex grinned. “Then I guess you better stay close so I can keep a proper eye on you.”

You chuckled, picking up your own drink and finally taking a sip. The whiskey burned your throat but it warmed you to the core. Rex looked impressed which was its own bonus.

“You never answered my question.” You said. “Are you a Captain?”

“I command the 501st attack battalion.” Rex said, a note of pride in his voice.

“Ah, then you must know Echo and Fives.” You prompted.

Rex seemed to age ten years at just the mention of their names. “I take it those are the ARC troopers you’ve met?” He asked. “My condolences.”

You giggled. “We played cards a few times. They’re nice but definitely a handful.”

“They’re all a handful.” Rex waved over the bartender to get another drink. “Every last one of them. That’s why none of them were allowed off base tonight.”

“Oh?” You grinned. “Do tell.”

Once he got going talking about his men, he couldn’t stop. Rex regaled you with the story of how earlier that afternoon he’d discovered his men were not only hiding a loth cat in the barracks, but it had given birth. They had managed to keep it a secret for weeks until the kittens started wreaking havoc. According to his men, Fives and Hardcase had been the ringleaders.

“That’s what they all say at least.” Rex amended. “’Course, Fives’ll take credit for just about anything. But Rose and Echo were suspiciously quiet the whole time. Kix was the only one with the good sense not to show his face in the barracks when I caught them. Still, I’ve got a feeling he encouraged the others to go along with it. Di’kuts, all of them.”

He shook his head but smiled as you laughed. “Anyway. They’re cleaning up the mess and finding natborns to rehome all the kits with. And when they finish with that, they’re supposed to take over the latrine shifts and canteen shifts for any other battalions.”

“Aw, seems a steep punishment for hiding loth cats.” You laughed.

“You didn’t see the state of the barracks.” Rex said, shaking his head slowly. “Apparently a bucket of paint got upended. They should all be scrubbing paw prints out of the durasteel right about now.”

You smiled fondly at Rex. Even as he retold the story, you could tell he was trying not to smile at the antics. It was clear he cared very deeply for his men, even if he had to be the tired parent of them all.

“Sounds like they wear you out.” You teased. “You deserve a break.”

“Are you offering me one?” Rex prompted.

You tilted your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Rex smirked, and downed the rest of his drink. He took a deep breath, as though he was steeling himself to ask you something.

“Y/N!”

You recognized the voice and turned quickly as Rose hurried up to you. He had a small streak of blue paint across his cheek, but otherwise was beaming.

“Hey, you should’ve told me you’d be here. I went all the way to your apartment and had to backtrack -.”

He noticed the Captain a beat too late and you watched as all the color comically drained from his face. “Captain! Sir!” He snapped to attention. “I ah – I can explain…”

You glanced between Rose and Rex, your own heart pounding. Rose had all but given away the two of you were seeing each other. Rex looked at Rose before looking at you. He then turned to his glass, picking it up and making a big scene of looking it over.

“Sir…?” Rose asked nervously.

“Oh, I’m just inspecting my beverage.” Rex replied smoothly. “I must’ve been drugged you see, because surely I am not seeing my Lieutenant standing here, not when he is under strict orders to stay on base tonight.”

Rose cringed. “Yeah, sir, about that -.”

“It’s my fault.” You spoke up quickly, throwing together a lie. “Rose and I met yesterday, we’d been playing Sabacc with some of his brothers and he very kindly walked me home afterwards. I promised him drinks tonight to thank him and I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” You glanced to Rose. “He was just being a gentleman.”

Rex raised an eyebrow, glancing at Rose. “Funny.” He said. “Could’ve sworn I saw you in the weight room with Fives last night.”

“We… came here afterwards sir.” Rose lied, shifting a little closer to you, almost protective. “Ask him, he’ll say the same thing.”

“I’m sure he will.” Rex stood, picking his helmet up off the counter and knocked his knuckles lightly against the bar. “It was lovely to meet you, ma’am.” He said. “Rose?”

Your soldier stood at attention once again but Rex just put a hand on his shoulder.

“We have a briefing tomorrow morning. Oh-eight-hundred. Don’t be late.”

“Thank you, sir.” Rose was barely audible over the roar of the music in the bar. He looked like his knees would give out at any moment.

You could’ve sworn you saw Rex give Rose a little wink, but it must’ve been a trick of the light. He gave you one last nod before quietly departing.

Neither you nor Rose saw him glance back at you over his shoulder one last time before stepping out of the bar.

You’d lost track of how long you sat on the roof with Rex. Partially because he’d gone downstairs and returned with a bottle of your favorite whiskey and two glasses, pouring drinks for you both.

“For Rose,” Rex toasted, clinking your glasses together.

You smiled and for the first time that you could remember, Rose’s name didn’t make your heart ache. “For Rose.”

You both tossed the glasses back, that familiar burn searing your throat and chest before you shook yourself out, watching as Rex poured you both a second glass, entirely unfazed.

“He was very unsubtle about sneaking off base to go see you.” Rex told you, leaning back on one hand and closing his eyes as the breeze kissed his cheeks. “I’d give him a job and it would either be done in record time or it would’ve been passed off to somebody else. He once almost missed a debriefing because he’d spent the night with you. Skidded in right as I was about to start.” He chuckled. “I didn’t mind. He was happy. Gods know we soldiers deserve whatever happiness we can find.”

You hummed, smiling as you took another drink. “He talked about you all the time.” You said, leaning slightly against Rex’s side. “Idolized you, actually. He told me about the battles you’d been in together, how well you led your men.” You smiled to yourself, finishing your second drink and making your way towards a third. “He told me about that virus. Blue Shadow Virus, right?”

Rex hummed, getting himself another drink as well. “That was an ugly mission.”

“He said you were hovering a lot.” You teased. “Because he was always so sick when he was little. You were worried about him.”

“Brothers were dropping dead, left and right. Hells, even Commander Tano passed out at one point.” Rex recalled, shuddering to himself. “I thought we were all going to die.”

“He told me he wasn’t scared because you weren’t scared.” You smiled. “I guess you did a good job of hiding it.”

“He had way too many close calls.” Rex chuckled. “That virus almost took him out. We got rescued just in time. There was another time he was scouting with me and a few others on Saleucami -.”

“I remember that. You were shot.” You recalled and Rex chuckled.

“He really did tell you everything, didn’t he?”

“He was terrified. He told me he thought you were dead, the way you flew off the back of the speeder after getting hit..” You murmured.

“What he probably didn’t tell you is that shot just barely missed him.” Rex replied. “I’d been leading but he’d circled around me to get in front. He was goofing around with Hardcase. Bolt whizzed just an inch past his head and hit me instead. He had a blaster burn on the side of his helmet to prove it.”

You shuddered at the thought. “He didn’t tell me that part.”

“Probably also didn’t tell you that he got shot pretty good on Toydaria.” Rex replied. “Not once, but twice, once in the leg and another straight through the chest. Kix thought for sure he was a goner.”

You were familiar with those wounds. A frown pulled your lips. “He didn’t tell me. I had to find them myself.” You grumbled, still bitter. “He’d come back from the mission and told me he’d gotten hurt, but it was nothing serious.” You threw back your drink again. “Bantha shit, if I brushed against him, he winced. Finally made him show me.”

“I’m sure he got an earful after that.” Rex laughed.

“Oh, he did. And he wasn’t even that bothered that he’d nearly died, no, he was more concerned about the fact that his tattoos had been damaged by the shots. He was worried he wouldn’t be able to get new ink over the scars.” You rolled your eyes. “That man…”

“He was just trying not to worry you.” Rex smiled, taking another drink.

“I always worry.” You murmured, rubbing your thumb along the rim of your glass. “Always. About all of you. I always worried that one day Rose would come home and tell me something had happened to Fives, Echo, you… or any of the others.” You chuckled humorlessly, finishing your drink. “And then… one day you showed up at my door instead.”

A heavy silence fell between you. Rex took your empty glass, filling it up once again.

“It seems so silly.” You said. “That he should survive all of that and then just get shot and killed during a routine supply drop. I thought he was unbreakable.” You shook your head. “Guess I was wrong.”

Rex wouldn’t look you in the eye, instead focusing very intently on the glass in his hands.

“It was quick.” Rex said finally, still avoiding your eyes. “He didn’t feel anything. I promise.”

“I know.” You gave him a small, sad smile, squeezing his bicep gently. “And I guess I have that at least. At least… at least I know he didn’t suffer. He wasn’t alone or – or afraid.”

You smiled wistfully, looking out over the skyline.

“There’s a dress in my closet,” You began. “It’s nothing fancy, just a white sundress with lace around the hem and sleeves.”

Rex already seemed to know where this was going. He took a very long drink and followed your gaze out towards the skyline.

“We were going to leave together.” You said quietly. “Get married. Have a family. He had this whole, crazy plan.” You chuckled. “I’d told him I wanted to think about it. It was a big decision, he’d be on the run for the rest of his life, hiding from the Republic. And I’d be part of that.”

You glanced over at Rex. “He told me he was going to tell you. He said we could trust you. Did he ever…?”

Rex shook his head. “No. He never got the chance.”

You nodded, turning back towards the sky. “I was going to say yes.” You whispered. “I was going to go with him when he came back. We were going to run away together… It was all very romantic.” You shook your head, staring down at your glass. “And it was so stupid.”

Rex was quiet for several long moments until finally he rose to his feet, offering you his hand.

“C’mon.” he murmured. “I think that’s enough drinking for one night. Let’s get you home.”

You nodded, taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet. You swayed. You didn’t realize how much you’d had to drink until you stumbled, falling slightly against his chest.

“The Rose Lounge owner can’t hold her liquor?” Rex teased. “Ironic.”

“Shuddup.” You mumbled, giving him a little shove. “I can walk.”

“Oh no you can’t, Tipsy. C’mere.” He crouched down slightly, and you slumped against his back. He picked you up with ease, bouncing you once to hike you higher up his back. He wrapped his arms around your legs, holding them snug against his torso while your hands wrapped around his shoulders.

“Don’t puke on me.” Rex warned, carrying you piggyback style towards the stairs.

“’M gonna fall off.” You muttered.

“No you won’t. Trust me.”

Your eyes were heavy, cheek pressed against the back of Rex’s neck and you remembered a time very long ago when another man had carried you on his back to this rooftop, and said the very same thing.

“I trust you, Rose.”

Rex was still. You hadn’t noticed your slip, your eyes already slipping closed.

“Okay.” His voice echoed. “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

TAG LIST: @fat-zygerrian @ladydiomede @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @threevie @cheesemachine44 @bubblyacey @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @loverofclones @starwarsgarbage @hockeyjedi13 @crazygirlwithasword @dar-manda-rjct @gotomarvelgal @baba-fett @whore4rex

#ro writes #BAON #ByAnyOtherName #Rex x Reader #Captain Rex x Reader #Fives x Reader #ARC Trooper Fives x Reader #OC Rose #Ro's OCs #star wars #star wars the clone wars #swtcw #tcw

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letitrainathousandflames · 4 years

Photo

(click for better quality!) 

AO3 Link 

Cody places the chest plate over his sternum, allowing the magnetic clasps to attach the piece to an equally plain one over his back. It feels strange, the lack of protection over his lower body. His midriff remains unprotected under the overshirt.

 “This feels… unsafe.” he grumbles “Too Exposed.” 

Rex hands him the kama with a small grin, the little di’kut. Of course he and Wolffe had mocked him over it, how he was finally gonna wear one like they did. While Cody ties the thing in place, Rex points a finger at him. 

“Listen, senator Organa told us to keep it simple. You’re not headed for battle, vod.” 

“He might just be.” Wolffe quips with a low growl, handing Cody his belt “There isn’t one kriffing person in there that’ll be happy to see a clone in the senate floor.” 

Cody sighs with the belt in his hands. Again, too simple. No thermal detonators hanging from it, much less his holstered blasters. Just a plain strap of leather shielded by plastoid plates. 

He reaches for the arm guards over the table, running his finger over its grooves. The senate. How much did they know about the soldiers fighting and dying for them off-world? How did they feel about their existence? Senator Organa said they might listen to him, but what are the odds of him being forcefully escorted out like a droid speaking out of turn? 

What if he is actually putting them all at risk? If the kaminiise start thinking that even their Marshall Commander is starting to sound like a traitor, how long before they arrive to the conclusion that the clones were a failed experiment and that it would be better to terminate every single one of them? 

His eyes drift over to the carefully folded cape, to the names that he had personally embroidered on its inside, thinks about how no cape, no flag, no amount of fabric would be enough to actually get all of them, thousands upon thousands of men lost to this endless war. Rex walks up to Cody, glances at him to then gently bump his hand guard to the commander’s. 

“Me'bana, vod?” 

Wolffe steps over to his other side brushing his shoulder to Cody’s, and the three of them stare at the names on the fabric as Cody unfurls the cape, spreading it some over the table. The three of them look at it in silence, reading and associating each name to a face, to a voice, to a personality. There are some of Wolffe’s men, lost to the Malevolence’s attacks; some of both Rex and Cody’s men, all lost in Umbara, several of them to friendly fire. And many others, as many as Cody could manage to fit in such a small space. 

That piece of fabric is the only concrete form of remembrance for these men without graves or monuments. Clones can only trust their memories to keep the history of their brothers alive, and it makes Cody’s heart ache. 

“Ni chaabar.” Cody says quietly, and it was only in their Mando’a that he could find it in himself to explain his feelings “I could end up getting us all killed with this.” 

There is a small moment of silence, and then Wolffe sighs.  “We are already getting killed. Every time we fight we lose dozens, hundreds, sometimes thousands of our vod’e in battle, or we watch them die in the medbays.” 

Cody turns to face Wolffe. The commander, as many other clones, was never fond of speaking more than strictly necessary, especially about the bleak conditions in which they all lived and fought in; Maybe it was to protect himself, maybe to protect his men. Maybe it was just his way of managing to cross the tightrope of war without ever looking down. But now he speaks - and Cody listens. 

“They’re keep lowering the age of drafting.” Wolffe traces with his gaze the embroidered name of a wolfpack trooper lost to the Malevolence weapon “First it was by a few weeks, then months, and now…”

Cody notices him poking his cheek with his tongue, shaking his head almost unnoticeably. Wolffe continues:

“I was nine when I was sent out to lead my battallion. I was scared but I was grown and ready.” Wolffe continues, eyebrows creased in a weave of confusion and barely-hidden anger as he turns his eyes to cody “Last week I received word of new batches coming out, most of them eight, a couple of them barely there. The kaminiise are sending out a bunch of still-growing kids to fight before their standard training is even done. We already have accelerated aging to fit the needs of the Republic, but this? This is just sick.” 

“And we can’t say a word about it because we aren’t a people, technically.” Rex adds sheepishly “We can’t say a word about being forced to work overtime. Can’t say anything about being paid in ‘special GAR’s credits’. Or about the overcrowded dorms, or the need of longer breaks, or mental healthcare, or entertainment, or a life outside the army.” 

Rex runs a hand over his cropped blond hair.

  “We are loyal in a way most governments only dream of.” he continues, eyes sharp at Cody “We live and breathe and fight and die for the republic, and we are all proud to do so. But we need to believe that we receive back at least half of the high regard in which we hold the Republic. We aren’t asking for much, and the Republic has denied us the right to even ask.” 

And, after a small pause, Rex swallows down, and his tone shows how much he knows he’s risking just to say it. 

“Do we risk death for our freedom, or do we continue to live as slaves?” 

“Rex.” Wolffe says in a warning tone  

The two of them know of Cody’s loyalty to the Republic. When the idea of having him speak against it in the senate even came up, Cody’s first response was to accuse them of threason. It had taken long enough to convince him to find the narrow path between his fear-based respect for the Kaminoans, his dedication for the republic and the jedi, and his love for his brothers. 

Cody frowns to then run a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes and speaking between his teeth.

“I’m not a slave. I love my duty. I love the Republic!” 

Maybe he should just give up on this. It was all a huge mistake, he had allowed Wolffe and Rex to drag him along with this nonsense. He could just turn his back on this and get back to the barracks, to his armor, to his command, where he belonged… 

He opens up his eyes, and the very first thing he sees is one of the names in aurebesh in front of him, drawing in his gaze like a trance.   Waxer. How could someone with such a kind, gentle heart be so deadly in the battlefield? Cody remembers him, the eager cadet that would always be seen hanging out with his batch brother Boil. Waxer had a heart soft enough to make him adopt a lost child in the middle of a war zone, to pet and feed stray animals and let them in their cover when it rained. He would make such an amazing parent, Cody could almost envision him holding a tiny bundle in his arms, just like Jango would do with his own. He would love his kid with all his heart…  

If he had lived to have them. Instead, Waxer died in a dark world, fallen to a brother’s blast, crying in pain and fear as Rex had reported it.

 Wordlessly, Cody puts on the vambraces, then the arm guards. Lastly, he takes the cape, brushes his gloved thumb over Waxer’s name. He owes it to him. To them, all of the Clone Army of the Republic. He owes it to them to at least try. Cody throws the cape over his shoulders, securing it in the straps on the inside of his chest plate.

 His brothers look at him with pride, and it makes his heart swell. His comlink rings, and Bail Organa’s voice comes through it:  

“Commander Cody, are you ready?”  

Cody looks at Rex and Wolffe, draws in a deep breath.  

“Yes.”  

“I’m about to announce you to the senate. Remember - keep your opening statement short and fast because we don’t know what will be their reaction. And, from personal experience: if they try cutting your speakers up there, just carry on by shouting the rest of your statement. Good luck, my friend.”  Cody chuckles, pressing the comlink.  

“Good thing that us commanders are good at shouting.”

 Mando’a translations:

 Di’kut - Idiot

Me'bana, vod? - what’s the matter, brother? 

Ni chaabar - I’m afraid

Senator Cody picked up from several bits of headcanons across tumblr. I highly recommend checking the #senator cody tag on @transmikecrew‘s blog bc it’s honestly the best and his writing is *chef’s kiss*

#senator cody #concept art #my art #i'm VERY proud of this one #pls rb #my fics

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kyberconfessions · 3 years

Text

No Matter Where You Go, I Will Find You. part 3

Hi everyone! We have made it to Part 3! Thank you for coming on this wonderful journey with me. I have at least 6 chapters already written and the story will be longer than that. I appreciate all of your love and reblogs and everything you say about it. Seriously, I love you all. Also, I am toying with the idea of a Bad Batch x reader story AU. Let me know if there is any want for that. Thanks!!!

As always:

This will eventually be a 18+ older fic and will deal with anxiety, death, sex, PTSD, murder, loss, found family, Order 66, and coming to terms. This is not just a fluff fic. It will very much be dealing with very dark and hard themes, so please, if that is something that can be too hard for you, don’t read.

Pairings: Rex x Reader x Cody (polyamory) I should say this is NOT a Rex x Cody fic. There will be ZERO Clonecest on this blog or story. Reader is a consensual relationship with Rex and with Cody. Yes they share, yes they will eventually have sex together, but Cody and Rex are NOT in a relationship nor will they be intimate.

Rating: 18+

TW: Death, Murder, infanticide, death of the Jedi, PTSD, Loss, Anxiety, eating disorders, sleep disorders, Order 66. I will add other things as I think about them

Part 3: Again

It had taken you longer to get to Hondo than you would have liked. But, of course he had to be by some out of the way planet, forgotten by most. You pride yourself on your extensive knowledge of the planetary systems, knowing obscure things that even had Master Yoda chuckling with delight. But this place? You had no idea where it was. It never showed up on any star chart and quite frankly you were fairly certain he gave you incorrect coordinates. But, still, you went there to meet him. You had to laugh to yourself when you saw his ship waiting for you, floating in the dead of space. Hondo was telling the truth.

"Kriffing pirates," you mumbled to no one, chuckling as you started preparing your ship to dock with his. No matter how many star charts you studied, how many space lanes you memorized, he would always know more obscure things than you.

As you finished the docking sequence and began to enter his ship, you mulled over what he would want to show you. Something he was either desperate to have or knew you would want immediately. Something he wouldn’t risk saying over a commed link, even if it was secure. Honestly if this was another wild goose chase he put you on for something he could find at any market stall on any of the core planets...well you wouldn’t do anything except grumble while you went and got it. You should hate the power Hondo had over you, but you didn’t. He never did anything to you out of ill will or because he could. Hondo was just eccentric.

‘But…,’you couldn’t help think. But what if? What if? What if he finally found something you truly needed?

Could it finally be Cody’s helm? Or could it be a piece of Rex? You knew in your heart it wasn’t either of those, it never was, but still you hoped. Still you held on and asked the Force to give you just this one win. Just this once, let you have something of Rex. Anything would do. A pauldron, his Kama, a piece off of his belt, something, anything. You just wanted some piece of him to hold onto. You missed him so much. You missed them both, but where Cody could be hard and demanding and strict, Rex was soft and loving. He would hold your fingers in secret where Cody would just stand. Rex would let his hand linger on your shoulder a few seconds longer than need be, while Cody would just grunt in acknowledgement. Rex would praise you after training; Cody would demand perfection, pushing you harder than Obi-Wan ever would. But when he would show you his love, Cody would love with the brilliance of a burning sun.

Hondo waved at you from the otherside of his door, giving you a flourished bow before opening the airlock. But as you walked in, your mind wandered, thinking to your lovers.

You missed them both so much and you could use a few of their pep-talks, especially now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan and Anakin stood on the Training Observation Deck of the Negotiator, watching their Padawans work through a strenuous series of obstacles and training droids.

Cody and Rex stood on the sides of their respective Generals, watching as well.

Ashoka did well, flipping, moving, and swinging her saber with ease. Each of her targets went down with raw power, showing how strong she was getting. You, on the other hand, were tired and sore and not moving as quickly as you usually do. But, that was because Ashoka just came back off a week's leave from Coruscant and you had recently gotten shipside from a long and drawn out campaign with Foxtrot Group. You were exhausted when she was refreshed. But that didn't mean you could slack off in your training. You had to be stronger, you had to be better. You were Jedi, you would not fail.

Ashoka finished the trial a few seconds before you did, landing at the finish line on one foot. Just as you were about to execute your final flip, the training block shifted underneath you, causing your foot to slip. Before you could right yourself, a stun bolt hit you square in the back, knocking you down. You landed on the ground with a hard and loud thud, ending the exercise.

Obi-Wan watched as Ashoka went to help you up, feeling guilty for having you train. He knew you were tired and drained, but you had insisted on working with the other Padawan. He should have put his foot down and told you to get some sleep. But he didn't and here you all were.

Anakin walked forward to the console and stopped the exercise, reseting it.

"Good job Snips, finally getting that barrel flip down.” He called over the comm. “Thank you, Master.”

You were standing behind Ashoka as she spoke to her Master, dusting off your robes and massaging your neck, disappointed in yourself. You should have sensed that bolt coming, you should have been able to right yourself and finish the test. You stood there, mentally berating yourself so much that you didn't realize Obi-Wan had started to address you.

"It's alright Young One, you did excellent, but I fear your exhaustion has hindered your training for today. Why don't you go and eat and get some much needed rest and we can revisit this at a later time."

Obi-Wan, ever the loving caretaker, cursed himself for even allowing you to work in your state. You could have gotten seriously injured and where would that have put you? He knew in all honesty you should be in the medbay getting checked out and possibly doing a little time in a bacta tank.

But, Marshal Commander Cody thought differently. Ever the perfectionist, he would not accept this as the end of your session. With his bucket under his left arm, he walked up to the console and pressed the comm, calling you.

"No Jed'ika. Start over."

You looked up into the window of the viewing deck and saw him staring at you, eyes hard. The others looked on in mild concern and irritation. Obi-Wan was about to chastise his second, when he noticed you move to the beginning and prepare for another assault. You knew he was right, he always was. You could do better, you should be doing better, but you let your exhaustion lie to you. You weren’t so tired that you couldn’t finish this level. You’ve done this countless times, late in the evening, with Cody at your side. There was absolutely no reason you couldn’t finish it now.

Cody looked back to his General for a split second, as if looking for permission, before restarting the training exercise. This time, as you went though the course, you only made it halfway before failing again. There was a trick shot the training droids took that you weren’t prepared for and you took another bolt to your upper thigh. You were going to have an ugly bruise in a few hours.

Gingerly you stood, favoring your leg for a few seconds before shaking it off. Just another color added to your already mottled and scarred skin.

As you went to stand, you saw the course reset once more and heard Cody’s voice over the comms, “Again.”

Rex didn’t like this, but he knew what Cody was doing. He knew if you were just pushed harder, if you were taken to your limit, you would not fail. He also knew that if you left the course without succeeding you would beat yourself up for days, feeling weak and useless. Rex didn’t like it, but he agreed. Obi-Wan watched on, focusing on your resilience and strength in the Force, humbled by his young Padawan. Anakin, on the other hand, didn’t like what was happening and felt that the Commander of the 212th was being too careless with your safety. This went on for some time, Cody would call for you to restart, you would fail, you would get up, and he would call again. Over and over and over.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Anakin had enough. “This is absurd! She’s clearly tired and needs rest. Hells, she needs time in the Medbay!” He walked up to the console and used his shoulder to push Cody out of the way, calling to you, “Padawan, you’re done now. Go straight to the Medbay. I want Kix to look you over.” He turned to Rex, “See she gets there, I don’t trust the Commander at the moment.”

Ashoka looked visibly uncomfortable from where she stood on the viewing deck and gazed up at Obi-Wan for any kind of reaction. He said nothing, just watching his Padawan try to get up off of the mat while pulling at the hairs in his beard. Before he could give the order for Cody to help take you to the medbay, Cody unceremoniously stomped over to the lift door and went down into the training room. They watched as he approached you and pulled you up, speaking harshly in a hushed tone to you.

You watched as Cody barreled towards you and crouched down at your eyelevel to look at you sternly. “Get up, Jed’ika. Get up. You don’t have time to wallow in your self pity. You don’t have time to lay here. You don’t have time to fail! Get up!” You listened to his words and tried to stand, but your knee where you had just taken a bolt gave out and you fell. Cody wrapped his hand around your bicep firmly and pulled you up.

“Each time you fail, another one of your men dies! You get up and you do it again! Each failure is another soldiers life gone! The men you swore to protect! Get up!” You nodded and stood on your own feet, albeit wearily. He was right. “You are a Jedi. You are not some clanker who falls over with the slightest push. You are better than this! You are better than your failure. You are Jedi. Do better. What is it that you’re always quoting from General Yoda? There is no try. You either do it, or you fail. And I do not accept failure! AGAIN.” Once he knew you were on stable legs, he stalked off to the sideline and prepared to yell at you more as you went through the program.

“Master, this is ridiculous! Cody has lost his mind! She’s too tired and needs medical attention.” Anakin was almost shaking; he was so upset. Who did Cody think he was? You were going to get seriously injured if you continued on. You needed rest and bacta, not constant berating and training. This wasn’t the way one taught a Padawan. This wasn’t the way Obi-Wan taught him.

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow at Anakin and breathed loudly out his nose, removing his hand from his beard. “Yes, I do believe you are right, Anakin. It seems I have let this get out of hand.” He stood closer to the control panel, hand hovering over the comms, but instead of turning off the program, he restarted it and turned it to a higher level of intensity. Anakin balked.

“Master! She’s going to get killed!” Ashoka cried out, looked to her Master and back to Obi-Wan, a strange feeling of anxiety sitting in her throat. It seemed through all the arguing and annoyances the Jedi were currently engaged in, they forgot about the Captain standing there, bucket under his arm, watching his brother and his Jed’ika. In his mind he kept a chant of ‘Come on, come on, you can do this.’ Over and over he thought, urging you to finish it. He wanted nothing more than in that moment to run down there and do as Cody was doing. He wanted to push you further, to push you to where he knew you could go. But he couldn’t, he was made to stand at ease and watch everything from the viewing deck. But, everything in him was down there on the mat with you, his most beloved, urging you to be better. The only thing on his mind was watching you finish this training exercise, going to your quarters to help you bathe, wrap your wounds, and finally making sure you ate a good meal. If he knew his brother, which he did, Cody was thinking the same thing.

You stood at the beginning once more and took a deep breath, hearing the mechanical beep signaling the beginning of the exercise. ‘Do better,’ you thought, before starting. You moved quickly through, dodging each blast, flipping and jumping higher and higher onto different ledges, using your saber to volley away bolts you could not dodge on your own, until you got to the point where you kept failing. Through the course, you could hear Cody yelling at you to keep going, keep moving, to not stop. You could hear him demanding excellence from you, he wanted more than what you thought you could give. He wanted perfection. It pushed you to go further, to work harder, to be better. You wouldn't fail your men and you wouldn't fail Cody. You dug deep into yourself and thought back to the training your former Master gave you, to that harsh and dangerous form. You could do it, you just had to concentrate. If you could find your center, you could toe that line made of shadows while still holding onto the light. You breathed deep, ‘allow your emotions to guide your strikes...feel that bubbling of anger and frustration, grab onto it to push you further. But do not give in. Just use it to fuel your power.’ Your old Master’s voice rang in your head, their training at the forefront of your mind. Multiple bolts fired at once, but instead of one landing a hit, you switched into Form VII, into Juyo. The most difficult saber form, Juyo was dark and dangerous, only used by those skillful Masters equipped with the knowledge of what it means to touch the Darkside and still stand in the Light. Used by your old Master.. taught to you by them in the shadows of Malachor… You shook your muscles out before jumping up against a wall structure, running its length with ease as more bolts were blocked. As you reached its end, you bounced over to the other wall and repeated the pattern, running and blocking, before twisting up onto its ledge. You stood, saber drawn across your body, balancing on the balls of your left foot as your right sat crossed on your thigh. You waited, breathing in and feeling the pulse of the machines across the Force.

THERE.

You flipped up, saber swinging around you in a figure eight, blocking each bolt back, volleying them towards the mechanical guns that sprang from the walls.

You landed once more in your previous spot before swan diving to the ground, landing with practiced grace and ease at the end, having finally completed the exercise. “Kark yeah!” Cody grunted, quickly walking to you. You had a tired smile on your face when he reached you. He reached out to grab your shoulder, squeezing it gently, before letting his hand fall away just as quickly. You looked up at him with adoration.

“I knew you could do it, Cyare,” he whispered, praising you, before taking a respectful stance, remembering that you were a superior and that you both were not alone. You nodded your thanks and tried to give him a look that said, "I love you". Hopefully he understood. He did.

Cody went to get you a towel to wipe your face as the others joined you on the mat. There were praises and excitement from the other Padawan, but both Obi-Wan and Anakin shared a look; they knew those moves. Knew that stance. A dangerous form like Juyo left unchecked could cause irreparable damage. It might be time for you to study a little under Master Windu if you are to continue in that form. Either way, Obi-Wan could feel the relief and happiness rolling off you, it could wait for another day. He also noticed a few feelings not very Jedi-like, aimed at the Marshall Commander and the Jaig-eyed Captain of the 501st. He quirked an eyebrow, but still he smiled his dazzling smile at you.

Obi-Wan was so proud of you, you felt giddy. It was all you ever wanted, and you knew you had it. He was proud of you.You proved to yourself and your Master that you weren’t some weak kid playing at being a Jedi. You truly were one and no matter how tired or weary you were, you could finish what you started.

Later that evening, after getting off duty, Rex made his way to your quarters, a tray of food in hand and a few bandages in the other. He hadn't even stopped at his bunk to change out of his armor. He went straight to the mess hall and then to you, wanting to check in.

When he approached your door, he knocked once before punching in your code, knowing he'd always be welcomed in. When the door slid open, he couldn't help but smile under his helmet at the sight.

You were sitting on the edge of your desk, freshly showered, robes put away, wearing loose, grey, linen pants and a black smallshirt. Cody was also freshly showered and in clean blacks, his armor stacked neatly by your bed. He sat in your chair, positioned between your legs, wrapping scrapes and cuts from the campaign and the training from earlier in fresh bandages, rubbing bacta on your bruises, and whispering words of praise and love to you.

Beside you both were 3 trays of untouched food, waiting to be consumed; one for you, one for Cody, and one for Rex.

Rex entered, letting the door slide closed behind him, a soft smile on his lips. He placed the extra tray of food next to the others, took off his bucket, and dropped a kiss to the top of your head before heading to your small refresher. When he exited, loose towel around his waist, Cody’s head was already buried between your naked thighs.

That night you all had the best sleep in ages, you sandwiched between the two men, tangled in sheets and their limbs, finally able to be together after so long apart. None of you would trade it for the world.

#cody x reader #cody x reader x rex #Marshall Commander Cody #rex x reader #captain rex #rebels!rex x reader #angst #Reader is an Ex!Jedi #reader is now a bounty hunter #Hondo Ohnaka #Hondo is your best friend #Dad!Obi-Wan x Padawan!Reader #Anakin Skywalker doesn't know how to NOT big brother #Asohka Tano #Anakin might hate Cody

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inkformyblood · 3 years

Text

as my offering

Codywan Week Day 06: Armour

A diplomatic error threatens to tear Obi-Wan and Cody apart to maintain a stronghold during the war, but they have a moment of peace before everything could change.

Pairing: Codywan Warnings: None

@codywanweek

“My love…”

Cody closed his eyes, pressing his head back onto the curve of Obi-Wan’s shoulder and forcing his breathing to remain slow and regular despite the quick electric spark of panic rising in his chest. They had had precious few moments together in the past few months, running from one battlefront to another, sustaining themselves on their fingers twined together beneath the console where no-one could see or the brief press of their foreheads together in a kov’nyn that ended almost as soon as it began.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody replied, matching his Jedi’s gentle tone, unable to keep a grin from unfurling across his face as Obi-Wan caught himself, his breath halting in his throat, and laughed. The other man ducked his head, kissing at the exposed curve of Cody’s neck and Cody shivered at the scratch of his beard against the sensitive skin.

“You don’t have to do this for me,” Obi-Wan continued, undeterred by Cody’s half-hearted attempt at distraction — just as they both knew he would be. “I have some leads I can follow up, ways so you don’t have to fight because of a mistranslated tradition.”

Frustration was clear in Obi-Wan’s voice, clipping the edges of his normally smooth speech, and his grip tightened on Cody’s hips before he stopped. He sighed, the sound flowing through him like a flood, curling over Cody before he straightened, propping his chin into the hollow of Cody’s collarbone.

Cody watched them both in the full-length mirror he had been given for the trial, taking them both in and trying to imprint the image on his mind. They were an oddly matched pair, with Obi-Wan having to stoop down to Cody’s height to wrap himself around him, but, after half a lifetime of the endless repetitions of the same face, their differences fascinated Cody. Obi-Wan’s skin was paler, so the freckles across his shoulders and cheeks showed up like constellations in a clear night sky, and his hair had fallen out of the tie as it so often did, curling slightly when it reached his shoulders.

Cody had avoided watching his own reflection, unwilling to confront the reality that he had been stripped of his armour by their current hosts and given new clothes to wear, but the gold gleamed against his skin — not quite the orange he was used to but close enough that he could still recognise the man who stared back at him.

The cloth skirt was similar to a kama, but the black dye had already begun to come away onto his thighs, the band at his waist digging in slightly. His feet were bare except for the heavy iron bands around his ankles that caused the memory of manacles to press at the edges of his mind. Cody’s chest was bare, and his gaze slid over the many clusters of paler scars without truly noticing them. It was something that always made nat-borns stare, a pause in their speech or their step before they continued, unaware of what they had done, but that moment was as obvious as an explosion to the clones.

“Given their insistence that we don’t remove our helmets, I’m surprised they didn’t give me one.” Cody tried to keep his voice light, but the words tasted sour in his mouth. Obi-Wan hummed in agreement, raising his head enough to smooth a kiss over Cody’s temple, pausing when Cody continued to speak.

“Even so, I’m glad that it was me, rather than one of the others.” Obi-Wan’s grip tightened once more, his embrace slipping from Cody’s hips so his arms wrapped around his waist, cocooning him in warmth. It was a welcome change, Cody’s skin beginning to prickle with goosebumps.

“I know. That is one of the many reasons I love you. And you know, I’d rather it was me.”

“I know.” For all their differences, their souls were the same; the same drive to protect as many people as they could, the same determination and stubbornness shining through.

It had been such a small action to start the avalanche that led to the impending trial by combat. Cody barely thought about removing his helmet in front of Obi-Wan anymore, and he knew the other clones were the same. When Obi-Wan had turned to introduce them to the diplomatic delegation shortly after they had landed, Cody had removed his helmet, meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze for a moment without the faint haze of the visor, then turned to look into the horrified faces of their hosts.

Soldiers were soldiers, and it was the height of disrespect for Cody to assume a higher position than he had earned in their eyes by removing his helmet.

“If it was any other planet, I’d suggest we leave.” Obi-Wan paused, and Cody turned to tap their heads together, his nose bumping against Obi-Wan’s.

“We both know this is an important foothold to maintain, sir.”

“This war has taken so much from all of us. But, while my research didn’t reveal a way out of the fight, I do have something for you.”

Obi-Wan stepped away, and Cody swayed with the urge to follow him. Instead, he turned back to the mirror and watched him, a pale shadow in the mirror, and felt the rising tide of panic begin to rise in his chest.

“I was intending to give this to you after this mission, but it is allowed in the rules, and I thought you would like something familiar.”

The ring Obi-Wan held up was the same orange as Cody’s amour, flat except for a small engraving of a sunburst in the centre, and was warm as Cody held out his hand — a faint tremor causing it to shake — so Obi-Wan could slip it onto him.

“You had this made for me, cyare?” Cody couldn’t help the wonder that flowed through him, love burning warm and overpowering in his chest. He turned his hand over, inspecting the ring and noting how it lay flat to his skin so it wouldn't catch during battle.

Kissing Obi-Wan was a gift all of its own, the man pressing back against Cody, his hands weaving into his hair to keep him close. Cody could have kissed him until every star in the sky burnt out into a husk and not noticed the never-ending march of time passing them both by.

The gong intruded on their moment of peace, harsh and jarring, and Cody broke away with a groan, kissing Obi-Wan once more before stepping away. His cheeks felt like they were burning, the pressure of Obi-Wan’s lips, his hands in his hair, and Cody turned to stare at the curtain that led out into the arena.

“Tion’gar ven’cabuo ner beskar’gam?” Cody asked, shifting his shoulders as his heartbeat settled, his thoughts sharpening as he prepared himself for the fight.

“Yes, I will.” Obi-Wan’s hand slipped into his, squeezing tightly before Cody forced himself to step away.

He would win. He had to.

Translations:

Kov’nyn: Keldabe kiss, headbutt, foreheads pressed together

Tion’gar ven’cabuo ner beskar’gam? = Will you protect my armour?

Cyare = beloved

#codywan #codywanweek2021 #codywan week 2021 #star wars #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #my writing #fanfic

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kkrazy256 · 3 years

Text

Title: Pretend It’s Not Forever

Prompt(s): Day 4 Bonding | Laughter

Warnings: None

Characters: Boba Fett, Commander Fox, Bossk

Additional Tags: Deception Arc, Missing Scene, Canon-Compliant, Fox Helps Boba Escape Prison, Dialogue-heavy, Just Two Bros Having A Serious Chat While Breaking The Law

Word Count: 4130

Summary: Boba gets separated from Bossk during the prison escape and runs into a familiar face

[On Ao3]

@loving-fox-hours

It’s really no different than all those lockdown drills back on Kamino.

At least that’s what Boba keeps telling himself as he presses up against another wall to let a wave of prisoners run past without trampling him.

“Bossk?” He shouts over the noise, walking with his hands splayed against the metal of the corridor. He had lost the Trandoshan about two levels back. They hadn’t exactly been very good at making friends. Boba couldn’t just let himself look soft . He had already gotten laughed at enough for not being able to kill a Jedi, he wasn’t about to let them think he was an easy target. Never show weakness.

Bossk has gotten into enough fights on his behalf to run into a few assholes looking to get a final punch or two in.

“Boba, just go! I’ll catch up.” Bossk hisses, throwing one over his shoulder and baring his teeth at another. Two clones run into the hallway, shouting orders and raising their blasters. Bossk bowls them over with a snarl, and then Boba’s scrambling out of the area without looking back.

A Weequay skids around the corner, shoving Boba’s shoulder hard in his mad dash for freedom. He hisses, rotating his arm with a scowl. That Hardeen bastard’s grip had been tight, and the condescending air around him still stung deep within Boba’s chest.

You don’t want to do this.

Get him, Hardeen!

Kill that brat!

Show him how a real Jedi Killer does things.

He wishes Bossk would’ve let him try and kill the asshole after the fighting started in the mess hall. The guy hadn’t been anything special; Boba could’ve definitely taken him down if they went for a Round 2. The handful of credits from Bane would have to do for now. It should be enough to catch a ride to the lower levels. Maybe even a nerfburger to share with Bossk. He’s not going to miss the prison slop any time soon.

He flinches when another loud crack echoes down the halls. The drills on Kamino were never so chaotic. Here, there is yelling and the sound of blaster fire, both live and stun rounds. Some yells become shrill and just a touch too scared. Too hurt. It makes Boba feel cold. The monotone overhead speaker drones on, its facility on lockdown warning barely audible over everything else.

The passageways in the prison are darker than the blinding white of Kamino. They’re more narrow, with sharper turns that have Boba’s heart in his throat every time he peeks into a different hallway and waits for the inevitable blaster bolt to the face. It never comes, so he keeps moving.

He avoids running into any more prisoners, and the new area he’s in is relatively void of activity now. There’s an occasional squad of clones that hurries by, shouting orders into their communicators. It sounds like a majority of the riot has been contained. Boba hopes he’s going in the right direction.

Back on Kamino, everyone moved at a brisk but controlled pace. There had been rules on where everyone had to go and stand before the lockdown ended. There were protocols that told everyone which group they belonged with.

But Boba didn’t remember any of those; he never had to go with any of the others. All he had to do was find dad.

But there’s no dad here to look for. Boba swallows, standing straighter. There’s no dad anywhere. Not anymore. There are only others with his face and his voice. But it’s not the same. It’s not the same helmet, not the same tone. They’re all younger. Younger than dad, and in some screwed up way, younger than Boba too.

It’s not the same.

And dad hadn’t always been on Kamino. There were times where he’d be off-world for a job that he couldn’t take Boba along for. That left Boba wandering the halls, doing his best to look like he knew where he was heading.

If dad’s ever not on Kamino and there’s an emergency, he was supposed to find—

You go find Wolffe and the others in that group. You stick with them until I come home.

And you’ll come home soon, buir?

Of course, ad’ika. You’re here, so that’s where I’ll come home to.

That doesn’t mean osik now.

Wolffe is working with the Kel Dor Jedi that had brought him here in the first place. Boba had kept his head down when the Jedi met up with Wolffe on the trip to Coruscant ( how long has it been since then? He doesn’t even know anymore) . He hadn’t wanted to see the disgust that was probably obvious in Wolffe’s face.

Cody is working with that Kenobi bastard, but Hardeen had apparently taken care of him. Guess that guy isn’t half bad for a jerk.

He has no idea where Bly and Fox went after their deployment nearly two years ago.

And Ponds—

He slams a fist against the wall and the hollow ring lingers for several seconds. The clattering of plastoid in the adjacent corridor stops at the sound before coming closer. Boba lets out a soft gasp and barely manages to press himself into a small crevice in the wall just as three clones run by. He doesn’t breathe until the footsteps grow faint again.

And he had kil— Aurra had killed Ponds.

Aurra had.

But does it even matter? Ponds had been dead the moment Boba and his group boarded the Endurance . He had just been too dumb to see it at the time. Aurra is probably dead too. He remembers the other Jedi mentioning her crashing the Slave I in a fiery explosion.

His dad’s Slave I . Up in flames.

His dad’s buy’ce , in pieces back on the Endurance .

His father’s belongings, gone and with nothing to show for it. It’s just Boba, wandering the hallway of a prison trying to make his escape.

Some legacy he turned out to be.

Dad is gone, and Boba can’t go to Wolffe and the others. Especially not any other clone. He doesn’t have allies here, only enemies. He can’t trust any of them. No clone would come across him and see him as a friend. Not after what he’s done.

They’d come across him, stressed and with their blasters raised. And then…

Would they hesitate? Like Boba had?

Or maybe after all that he’s done, he doesn’t even deserve that?

He turns the corner without checking and hits against something solid, stumbling back onto his ass.

Plastoid.

Boba looks up and all he sees is red, white, and the black of two gun barrels aimed at his face.

He counts silently in his head, the tightness in his shoulders leaving as he relaxes. There’s nothing more he could do here.

He wonders how many seconds of hesitation he’s worth.

The hands holding the blasters lower.

“...Boba?”

He tenses, looking the clone over. Their armor is different from the typical guard’s. The colors are all the opposite. Most of them knew who he was, it isn’t like there are many like him being held here. But something tells him there is more going on than just that.

“Why don’t you just get it over with?” Boba juts his chin out, looking straight into the dark visor. The clone seems shocked that he had managed to meet eyes through the helmet, but Boba’s had enough practice to do it easily.

The gloved hands move purposely slow and Boba can’t blink.

They holster both blasters, and one reaches out to —

To him.

Boba can only stare, jaw dropping. What in the Stars does this mean?

“Boba, it’s Fox.”

Fox.

If there’s an emergency, you go find Wolffe, Ponds, Bly, Cody, or —

“Fox?” He whispers, taking the offered hand automatically and letting Fox haul him to his feet, “wh-you ended up being sent here?” He considers the kama and extra embellishments on the armor, “you’re a commander?”

“Even better, a Marshal Commander.”

The present situation comes rushing back, and Boba yanks his hand back the moment he’s steady. This isn’t Kamino. Fox isn’t just another clone being asked to watch over Boba while Jango’s out.

This is Coruscant. This is a maximum security prison. Boba is a prisoner during a riot. Fox is the Marshal Commander of the Guard.

There are no friends. Only enemies. Trust no one. Never seek out help.

He’s learned that the hard way. And he’s not about to fall for it again. He’s smarter than that, he’ll do better.

“Come on.” Fox says, jerking his head towards the end of the hallway.

As if.

Boba shifts his weight to the balls of his feet. It would take a second for Fox to unholster his blasters again. He has a chance.

Fox grabs him by his jumper, shoving him around the corner.

“hEY—”

“Shh!” The sound is hissed out, barely audible through the helmet’s speakers.

“Commander!”

Boba shuts his mouth and shifts just out of sight. Fox goes still, shoulders squared and back straight as he turns to regard someone.

“Report, lieutenant?” His voice is a lot more steely.

“The riot’s been contained. We’re mainly chasing stragglers now.”

“Casualties?”

“Over a dozen prisoners and eight troopers. Live and stun rounds were used.”

Boba’s heart skips and he breathes out through his nose. Bossk is strong. Bossk is okay. He has to be okay.

“Prioritize the critically wounded. We can’t have another medbay overflow. And the instigators?”

“We think we’ve got three that escaped via the crematorium.”

“Through the morgue?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The spaceport in sector 8 is the only route they can reach from there. Have Thorn’s team cut them off.”

“Yes, sir. General Yoda and General Windu are on the line. They want a status update.”

Boba hears Fox’s muffled curse.

“I’ll be with them after I finish clearing this level. Head back to Command and oversee until I return.”

“Yes, sir!”

The footsteps grow faint, and Fox prods him again, “lets go.”

Boba shuffles his way down the corridor with Fox at his heels.

Every so often, Fox would place a hand on his shoulder and steer him in a different direction. Moments later, a trooper would pass by the way they had just been headed.

He resists the urge to rub his shoulders. Fox is helping him. And Boba doesn’t understand why.

“Where are we going?” He bites his lip, and finally asks, “this isn’t the way back to my cell.” Is he being punished? Is he being brought to a different cell? A smaller one? One with no windows? No cellmate? None of those options sound good.

“Do you want to go back to your cell?” Fox simply says, and Boba scowls. He’s always been a snarky asshole, even back on Kamino. Boba doesn’t have time for this. He’s tired, hungry, and his shoulder still hurts from Hardeen’s hold. If he can’t escape, he just wants to be thrown back in his cell. And hopefully, Bossk would be there too.

If not, then maybe he got out. Without Boba. But getting left behind shouldn’t come as a surprise anymore.

“Where’s your scaly friend?” Fox asks, as if reading his mind. Boba huffs.

“Don’t know, lost him in the crowd. We were supposed to meet up again.” He pauses, squinting up at the blank visor, “he’ll be here any minute and then I’m out of here.”

“If he’s smart, he’ll be heading towards this sector.” Fox agrees, and Boba frowns.

“Why do you know about him anyway?”

“The reports say he was registered at the same time you were. The Guard tells me he’s been keeping an eye out for you.”

Fox has been keeping tabs on him, Boba realizes. He’s the Commander of the Guard, he knows that Boba’s been here since the day they brought him to Coruscant.

Fox hasn’t visited once.

Boba knows he shouldn’t have expected him to, even if Boba had hung out with his batch the most back on Kamino.

Because in the end, they all grew up without him. In the end, Boba isn’t one of them. He’s gotten one of them killed. He has gotten many of them killed.

Fox should be mad. So why is he...

“Why are you helping me?” Boba wants to stop walking, but Fox continues to gently push him forward, “you know what I’ve done.”

“And what is it that you’ve done?”

Boba takes two brisk steps ahead before whirling around to face Fox with a snarl, “Ponds.” The name echoes and it felt wrong for him to say.

“I…” He looks at the grey floor, he can’t stand looking at that blank helmet. But he doesn’t want to see the alternative either, “that was my fault.”

“It was Aurra Sing that killed him.”

“She shot him, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t part of the whole thing.”

Fox tilts his head, “she promised you something, didn’t she? Something that made you agree to work with her.”

Boba blinks, then blinks again when his eyes start to sting, “she said she knew him, that they worked together before….”

His hands shake from how tightly clenched they are, “she said she’d help me get revenge. For...for…”

“For the Prime.”

“For my buir .” His cheeks feel hot, and wet. Fuck , he’s too old for this.

“...I hurt a lot of people. A lot of clones.” He thinks of Jax. We’re all in it together. The betrayal etched across all those faces just like his own when he left the pod. The betrayal on all those older faces that will eventually be his own.

“You did, I saw the reports.”

“So why?” He sucks a breath in and his voice shakes, “why aren’t you angry!?” How can he just stand here, so damn calm while Boba’s the one falling apart? It’s just not fair.

“...Do you want me to be?”

No.

“Yes!” He throws his hands up, “it would make more sense than whatever the hell you’re doing right now. It’s treason, isn’t it? Isn’t that all you guys care about? Being loyal?”

He’s breathing hard, and Fox approaches him, kneeling down and holding a hand out. Boba turns his head towards the open palm. They’re large, hidden under a layer of fabric and protected by a dark red plate. It’s not the same.

“Boba, you’re—” Fox’s hand hovers for a long three seconds before he drops it back at his side, “you’re a damn kid. And under all those circumstances? I-, I can’t say that I agree or that I would’ve done the same.”

The gloved hands ball into fists before relaxing again, “but I understand, alright? It’s not as simple as right and wrong, and I sure as hell don’t see it that way either.”

Boba sniffs, rubbing his nose with a sleeve, “doesn’t make what I did okay.” He’s not going to pretend it is. Dad taught him to own up to his mistakes, even when it’s hard to.

“No.” Fox sighs, “no, it doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean jail is the right answer. There’s nothing in here for you.”

“There’s nothing out there for me either. I’m alone.”

Even back on Kamino, surrounded by so many just like him, he was alone. And as he grew older, he only found it to be more true.

“Well, you won’t always be. Sooner or later, you’ll find people who will want to be with you for you.”

“...And not because of what my dad left behind?”

He’s lost the helmet, he’s lost the Slave I . It’s just Boba now. Nothing but Boba. Is that enough for anyone?

“Just for you. People who won’t care about that reputation of yours.”

“...Do you mean it?”

“...Yes.” Fox answers softly. It’s the same dark visor staring back, but for a moment...Boba imagines there’s a face there. Not quite his dad’s, not quite his own, but a face.

“But…” Fox stands to full height, straightening out his kama before giving him a look, “that can't happen unless we get you out of here.”

He holds out his hand again.

Boba takes it without pulling away this time.

They navigate the halls in silence, dodging other Guard members every so often. The lieutenant had been right about getting the riot under control. Boba can no longer hear any more sounds of blaster fire. The amount of footfalls have decreased. They are running into less and less people.

“Are we almost there?”

“Almost.” Fox rolls his neck in a way that looks like he’s rolling his eyes instead, “if it were that easy to break out of prison, we’d all be fired.”

“You don’t get paid. I don’t think you can get fired.”

“Touché”

“Actually,” Boba looks up with a smile, “I think I’ve made more money bounty hunting than you’ve ever had in your life.”

“Way to rub it in.” He flicks the back of Boba’s head, and he resists the urge to kick the asshole in the shins. It would hurt his own foot more.

They continue walking.

“Do you remember what you said earlier?” Fox starts after a minute, voice sounding weird, “about loyalty?”

Boba frowns.

“What about it?”

“It’s true. We were trained to be loyal to the Republic. But you know what else we learned back on Kamino? Something that wasn’t taught?”

Boba raises an eyebrow, and Fox places a hand over his chest plate thoughtfully. He looks around, as if checking for someone listening.

“Our loyalty is with our vode, first and foremost.”

...Boba knows that. He’s no stranger to the closeness of the other clones back on Kamino that persists even after they’ve become grownups. Boba had his dad. The clones had...well, they have each other. They are vode . He knows that, so why is Fox telling him this now? Unless...unless?

“...Am,” He swallows his spit nervously, “am I one of the vode? Even though I’m not like you all? Even-, even though I screwed up?”

Fox sighs again, leaning down until—

Cool plastoid taps against his forehead, and Boba forgets to breathe. The hand on the back of his head scratches at the short, trimmed curls and Boba closes his eyes with a shudder. The last mirshmure'cya he had—

Beskar. Warm from battle. Dusty with the sand of Geonosis. Empty.

He no longer remembers how it feels anymore.

Until now.

“Ori’vod,” Fox’s voice is quiet, close enough to be heard without the robotic quality of his helmet speakers, “you never stopped being a vod.”

By the Ka’ra , Boba needs to stop crying in front of Fox.

“Asshole,” he shoves Fox away after an embarrassingly long time, hiccuping and rubbing at the corner of his eyes, “you know I hate it when you guys call me that.”

Fox snorts, reaching to rub the top of his head, “we know. But you are our littlest older brother, and nothing’s going to change that.”

“Quit it, di’kut ! Don’t touch me.” A squeak escapes him and he dodges more attacks on his buzzcut by skipping ahead with a grin.

Crash

He turns around just in time to see the overhead vent hit the ground and a blur of orange and green land on top of Fox.

Bossk .

The two tussle in a mess of limbs, snarling and hissing curses. Fox slams his head back, helmet nailing Bossk in the snout. The Trandoshan grabs the hand reaching for the holster. His other clawed hand grabs Fox by the head, pulling so his neck is exposed. He opens his mouth, rows of fangs gleaming in the lights as he dips down to bite—

“BOSSK, STOP!” Boba shoves his fingers between the gaping jaw, and Bossk immediately pulls away with a growl.

“How many times have I told you to not put your hands in my mout—”

“—Don’t hurt him! He’s okay, he was helping me!”

Bossk tilts his head, hands still wrapped around Fox’s throat while he kicks uselessly at Bossk’s side and scratches at tough, scaly skin.

“Boba, you know this one?”

“Yes! That’s my...my younger brother. So, so let him go already!” He demands.

Bossk looks between the two of them one more time before dropping Fox. The Commander lands on his knees, coughing and rubbing his neck.

“Younger brother, huh? Shit Boba, do I have to teach you math too?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes, leaning down to pull Fox to his feet, “you okay?”

“Not the worst I’ve had.” Fox mutters once he’s steady. He glowers at Bossk, “glad to see you finally caught up.”

The Trandoshan sneers at that, but doesn’t do more than flex his claws. Fox isn’t going for his blasters either, so okay maybe things aren’t too bad.

Boba catches Fox’s gaze, “you’re gonna let him leave too, right?”

“Funny if he thinks he has a say in it.” Bossk’s tongue darts out, flickering in the air.

Fox crosses his arms over his chest, “if you take three lefts from here through the vents, it’ll take you directly to a landing bay that isn’t being used. There won’t be any patrols there.”

“...that’s awfully kind of you, Commander. No traps or anything fun like that?”

“I just want to have your word.”

“On what?”

Fox pauses, looking down at Boba.

“That you’ll look out for him.”

Boba opens his mouth. He doesn’t need anyone to —

Bossk gives a teetering laugh, slamming a large hand over Boba’s head and rubbing it, “been doing it for months, no reason to stop now.”

“Quit it!” He does not whine . He doesn’t.

“Good. If I find out you ditched his sorry sheb , I’m dragging yours back here.”

Bossk grins.

“Now go, you don’t have much time.” Fox points at the open vent and Bossk nods.

It takes him one single leap to scurry his way back into the ceiling. Show off.

“Didn’t find anyone else crawling up there, did you?” Fox shouts as he kneels under the vent, cupping both his hands together. Boba takes a step onto it.

“None that I didn’t already toss out. It’s my escape route, I’m not sharing.”

Fox actually barks out a laugh, and it nearly startles Boba off his hand before he finds balance.

“Hey,” He whispers, and Fox looks up, “I uh…” His mouth feels dry, “thanks.”

“Remember what we talked about, alright? Don’t do anything stupid out here. You have to stick around to find those people.”

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Bossk groans from inside the vent, holding out a hand.

“But it seems like you’re not as alone as you thought, kid.” Fox hums.

“...Yeah.”

With that said, Fox gives him a boost and Bossk pulls him up the rest of the way.

“Clean up your damn mess.” Fox heaves the grate off the floor and hands it off to Bossk to put it back in place.

“Easy there, Commander. I might drop it again.” Bossk snickers, but does as he’s instructed.

Boba scoots his way over the grate, peering through the slits.

“Will I see you again?”

“...I don’t know. Maybe.” Fox’s voice sounds distant, “when the war ends.”

“Okay,” Boba nods, “don’t die before then.”

Fox gives another laugh that sounds weirdly choked up, “that’s my line, ori’vod.”

Boba grins, “ Ret'urcye mhi "

“ Ret'urcye mhi ."

The crawl towards the abandoned landing bay is quiet, the only sound being the rumbling of the vent space as they inched forward slowly. Bossk isn’t exactly light. Too much movement and noise would get them caught.

“You know,” Bossk finally says once they make the final left turn. The exit grate is in the distance, “I thought all clones were awful. But I guess that one’s okay.”

Boba turns with a frown, “hey! I’m a clone too, y’know.”

“I was including you in that statement.”

“Oh...okay.” He turns around, stops, then whips back again, “wait, in which way?”

“In that you’re also awful, kid.”

“You take that back!” He gasps, and Bossk cackles.

“C’mon, Boba. We’re here. You got that grate?”

He hmphs , grabbing the vent grate and shaking it.

“Yeah I got it, it’s loose enough.”

He pulls it off, letting it drop onto the ground below.

“...Boba?” Bossk’s voice draws him out of his thoughts when he doesn’t move.

“...what will we do now, Bossk?” He is ship-less. He has nothing but the handful of credits from Bane.

A hand settles on his shoulder, “whatever you want, little boss. I’ll be here.”

Boba pats the hand, lips curling up just enough for Bossk to respond with a toothy smile of his own.

Boba jumps out of the vent, landing on solid ground. He takes a deep breath, reveling in the air of freedom that surrounds him.

“I’ve got a name to make for myself.”

[ao3] if you wish to kudo/comment <3

#commander fox #boba fett #commanderfoxweek2021 #tcw #star wars #sw mine

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colehasapen · 3 years

Text

(ONE SHOT) fit two people under your skin STAR WARS

Febuwhump Day 1 - Brainwashing

A03

Alpha-17 doesn’t believe in monsters.

He’s lived through too much in his life to believe in the creatures under the bed, or those that creep through the dark hallways and eat unsuspecting cadets. He’s seen real monsters, he’s seen cruelty and violence. He’s seen real life, and nothing can scare him more than that, but he comforts himself with the knowledge that everything dies, that he can fight to the death if he has to. He knows the pain of being taken apart piece by piece, of being tortured past his limits, of watching so many vode marching off to the death. He knows the pain of losing good men that he trained personally, the pain of losing those he raised himself from childhood.

He knows the pain that comes from not having done enough.

Millions of vode are dead, millions more will die, and Alpha is almost numb to it. He’s lost enough that it no longer surprises him.

But he’s never had anyone come back from the dead, and yet, here he is.

Months ago, Alpha had been brought back to the warfront by the death of his little brother, one of the boys he had trained and raised from childhood to be one of the best. He had been on Kamino when news had reached him that Marshal Commander Cody had died in the line of duty, and he had immediately felt the world drop out from beneath him. Cody - Kote - the youngest and smallest of Squad 17, his vod’ika , his ad’ika ; his pride and joy. Cody had been one of his, he had watched him grow into the man he was, and Alpha had thought, had hoped, that out of any of them, that Cody would make it to the end of this Manda-forsaken War. Cody had been a leader, a viciously competent warrior that put even other A-classers to shame. He may have only been a CC, but Alpha would bet anything that he’d be able to beat even a Null into the ground if given the chance.

He had never imagined Cody being just another name on a KIA list.

Cody could have been their leader, had the spirit needed to be Mand’alor. He had a natural charisma that made people want to follow him, a strength to his soul that shone like fire in his eyes. He could be beaten, but he’d never break.

But he’d still died. He had died and left his 212th without a Commander.

Eventually, Alpha had managed to hunt down the troopers that had survived the mission that had killed one of his boys. Had tracked them down during shore leave and demanded to know what had happened. They couldn’t tell him much, because of the confidential status of the mission, but eventually a pale-faced and haunted Echo had spoken up, staring down at his alcohol like it could take the nightmares away.

“It should have been me.” The young ARC Trooper had whispered, looking close to tears, and Fives had gripped his brother’s hand like a lifeline. “I had gone for the shuttle - Cody - he saw what was about to happen before any of us. He saved me. He threw me out of the way and took the blast instead.”

Alpha had volunteered as soon as he could, had hunted General Kenobi down and put his name forward as his next Commander. He knew what his ad’ika would have wanted; he’d want Alpha to teach and protect his men where he couldn’t, to lead his Ghosts and 7th Sky. He’d trust Alpha-17 to watch his Jetii’s back, to be at his side when he couldn’t, because Alpha wasn’t blind - he knew what his Kot’ika thought of General Kenobi, knew what he’d felt for him. He had seen the way Cody had looked at Kenobi, had known that they’d work well together when he’d suggested Cody as the Commander for Kenobi’s Battalion, even if he’d never imagined his little brother actually falling in love with the man.

Despite how much it hurt to stand in his place, Alpha had put himself forward, had painted his armour gold, and taken the title of Commander. It fits like an ill-fitting body glove, but Alpha wears it, because it’s what Cody would have wanted. He could keep up with Kenobi better than any shiny commander could, could call the Jedi out on his bullshit and keep him and his men safe. He knows it hurts Kenobi too. He knows that sometimes Kenobi turns to him expecting Cody to be there to a witty quip or a sarcastic smirk, and he sees the way he falters when it’s Alpha there instead.

The troopers are the same. Alpha knows they respect him, that they look up to him, but he’s not Cody, and they all know it. Over the months though, they’d learned how to work together; he’s glad it was him who had taken over for Cody, because he recognizes a lot of the signs of his own training in the way the 212th troopers move, no doubt passed on by Cody. They don’t move the way CTs are expected to move, instead Alpha can see his own personalized ARC training shining through in them, and he knows that any other commander wouldn’t have been able to keep up. As the months pass, he whips them into shape, distracts them from their grief, and keeps them moving.

And then rumours of the Seperatists’ newest asset reaches them. Until Umbara, no one sees it, but they hear the rumours spread by the small numbers of survivors left behind. Some sort of new droid made to look like a clone in black armour, that never speaks, never hesitates, and always wins. Until Umbara, its nothing more than a ghost story, a monster in the night, but Alpha had never believed in monsters, it was just another clanker that he’d destroy if he faced it on the field.

It was called many things; monster, assassin, dark trooper, but Alpha would know it as another target.

And then Umbara happened. The asset had killed Krell, had saved the lives of the 501st troopers that the dar’jetii was tormenting. It had killed only Krell, had torn the Besalisk apart, and then walked away; it hadn’t even touched the clones, had barely even looked at them before leaving. Rex had come to him afterwards, baring footage of the fight between the asset and the General, an odd look on his face.

“It fights like a vod, Alpha.” Rex had said, sounding confused and lost as they’d watched the footage over and over again, looking to learn the clanker’s fighting style to better combat it in battle. “It fights like you do.”

Watching the figure in black and gold armour, styled mockingly after his own, a kama swinging around it’s waist and a gold pauldron on it’s shoulder, Alpha couldn’t help but agree. It did fight like a clone; specifically, it fought like one of the cadets Alpha had trained personally. It was reckless, throwing itself into battle without a care, twisting into powerful kicks and using its blaster like a club in ways that Alpha specifically remembers one of his cadets doing, something that had driven Alpha to a frothing rage.

Cody.

It fights like Cody.

He hadn’t voiced it at the time, had stewed in his rage at the insult aimed towards his dead vod’ika. A droid that fought like Cody, a droid that had the exact same shade of orange-gold as his vod’ika had chosen for his Battalion. It was an insult and an affront on everything Alpha stood for. He’d held on to that anger, had let it burn hot and harsh in his gut, knowing that the moment he faced the clanker on the battlefield, that he’d destroy it.

He would tear it apart for the insult it symbolized. To know that the Seperatists were perverting his brother’s memory in such a way lights a fire in him that refuses to burn out.

And then he gets the chance to fight the asset. He fights it one on one, intent to destroy it and avenge his little brother, when the bucket comes off and Alpha’s heart stops. All he can think of, is that that’s a face glaring up at him, a familiar face with a familiar scar. He barely remembers the chaos that had followed.

Cody.

Somehow, the asset is Cody.

Somehow, they’d managed to get the asset - Cody, his Kote - sedated and transferred onto the Negotiator. It had hurt all of them to need to restrain him, to strip away black plastoid to reveal prosthetics and burns. They’d gotten him back to the ship, into the medbay and under the medics’ hands, and they’d found a chip in his head.

And now, Alpha is staring down at the limp body strapped down to the biobed, ankles, hips, chest, and arms pinned to the bed by unforgiving metal, to make sure he wouldn’t attack again when he woke up. It’s still Cody. He’s missing both his legs at the thighs, there’s metal drilled into his spine and up the back of his skull. There’s a blinking monitor embedded into his chest, scarred skin growing around it, flashing with his heartbeat. They’d shaved him, put a cybernetic implant on the side of his head, over where his ear should be and stretching around his temple to interrupt the curving, hooked scar that had become his little brother’s visual marker of individuality, the one Alpha personally remembers tending to, right before pulling Cody into ARC training to ensure that Priest and Reau wouldn’t get their hands on him again. He’s covered in twisting, healing burn scars, left from the explosion they had all believed to have killed him, and there’s dark bruises standing stark against brown skin.

Bruises that Alpha had put there, when he’d nearly broken his brother’s neck while fighting him. When he had thought that Cody was a droid programmed to fight like him.

He'd nearly killed his little brother, the boy he'd raised, and he never would have known if he hadn't accidentally knocked his helmet off.

“Manda.” He breathes harshly, nostrils flaring, and he drops down into the chair Pace had put next to Cody’s bed. He ignores the medic’s eyes drilling into the side of his head, instead reaching out to gently squeeze Cody’s limp hand like he had when Cody had been a too-small child enduring too-cruel punishments in the place of more replaceable brothers. “What can you tell about the chip?”

Pace scowls, “It only showed up on a level five atomic scan.” He says, “We only found it because we were trying to find out the cause of the strange brain activity we were picking up - it showed up as a tumour, but once we removed it -” he gestures to the petri-dish next to the biobed, “- we found that.” ‘That’ being an ugly scrap of what looked like flesh, pink and pocketed and flecked with old blood. “Removing it from the frontal lobe stopped the strange brain signals we were picking up, and his waves went back to baseline - what you could expect from a regular clone.” Alpha tears his eyes away from Cody’s peaceful face to glower at the strange object. “We don’t have any proof, won’t until we can see how he acts when he wakes up, but Crys thinks it could have been controlling him.”

Alpha lets out a harsh curse, “Fucking seppies.”

“Yeah.” Pace murmurs, then shifts. “Commander,” he says slowly, enough of something odd in his tone that it makes Alpha look up to meet his gaze, to see them dark with anger, “whatever it is - that chip? It wasn’t made by the Seps.”

“What?” Alpha’s eyes narrow dangerously, and Pace nods, glowering at nothing as he rubs a hand aggressively against the gray fabric of his uniform.

“It gives off a different signal than the… prosthetics -” he says the words with furious contempt, like the sentence is rotten on his tongue, “- they drilled into him.”

Alpha snarls, baring his teeth like a cornered animal as he grips Cody’s clammy hand protectively, like he could destroy whatever did this to him with his will alone. “Who do I need to kill for what they did to him?”

“Sir.” Pace’s voice is just as dangerous, “Whatever it is? It’s Kaminoan.”

Taglist: @a-mediocre-succulent @yellowisharo @spoofymcgee @roseofalderaan @everything-or-anything @bellablue42

#cole writes #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday1 #alpha 17 #Alpha-17 #commander cody #212th Attack Battalion #codywan #star wars fanfiction #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #winter cody au #brainwashing #Obi-Wan Kenobi #obi wan kenobi #clone medic pace (oc)

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danger-xylophones · 3 years

Text

A New Chapter (Echo x reader)

{masterlist}

Warnings: It’s implied that the reader has depression, some angst sprinkled in

.....................................

When Rex commed you to come to Anaxes on the next medical transport - you’d expected the worst. You were trying to prepare yourself to hear more bad news. You’d expected to be told that Rex had lost another one of his closest brothers and one of your dearest friends. You’d already lost so many...Echo, Hardcase, Tup, Fives..Echo’s death destroyed you first and left room for every following death to slowly chip away at your resolve. You feared that hearing you’d lost Kix, Jesse, or Cody might just do you in before you could begin to be there for Rex.

So, you frantically scrambled to steel yourself before the transport landed - keeping a death grip on the handle by your head to keep your self grounded. You knew that your fellow medics, clone and nat-born alike, were silently questioning you. As the head nurse you were expected to be composed, cool-headed, great under pressure, and a genuine calming presence. For you to be nervous enough for it to be reflected in your shifting stance and death grip was disconcerting.

As the transport initiated its landing sequence you took in one long steadying breath and braced yourself for whatever news awaited you beyond the doors. They opened with a hiss and your fellow medics immediately sprung into action unloading supplies and gurneys while you waded through the sea of activity in search of a certain captain. He was waiting for you by the entrance to the barracks. With his helmet on, it was harder to discern what he was feeling but for the most part he stood tall and proud in a perfect soldier stance with his hands clasped behind his back. He was busily conversing with someone you couldn’t see. You were confused now - you’d seen Rex after a heavy loss. His shoulders always sagged, his whole form took on a heaviness to it that was only ever abated with time and the comfort of some good wine you’d often smuggle in for him. He was never this...normal. Rounding a few stacked crates revealed to you that the person Rex was talking to was actually three people consisting of Jesse (thank the maker) and two clones you barely recognized as clones.

After a loud clearing of your throat you called out to him. Rex turned to you and removed his helmet in one fluid motion and you were surprised to see him beaming at you. “Vod’ika!” He chirped and started walking towards you with Jesse in tow whilst ignoring the intrigued looks of the other two clones - one had really long hair and a headband wrapped around his crown and the other, significantly shorter, peered at you with large eyes hidden behind a pair of blocky glasses. You met Rex in the middle and he quickly pulled you into a one armed hug that you barely returned thanks to being caught so off guard. “Glad you’re here.” He muttered next to your ear before retreating so Jesse could also pull you into a quick hug.

“I’d say I’m glad to be here,” you began as you pulled away from the arc trooper, “but I don’t know why I am.” You finished with a pointed look at Rex that told him to start explaining.

His smile fell a bit, though it didn’t completely disappear, “It’s...a long story and it’s better to just show you. C’mon.” He swung his arm for you to follow him, already walking towards the barracks. You hesitated, casting a confused look at Jesse who just offered you an impish grin in reply before strutting after the captain. With a steadying sigh you followed after the two kama wearing clones.

You passed many troopers as the captain and arc trooper led you further inside the barracks, most from the 501st, some from the 212th, a lot from the 187th, and at least two who you couldn’t identify as being from any legion but they were wearing the same armor as the other two who had been talking to Rex and Jesse when you arrived. The taller of the two (the much taller of the two - was he even a clone? Or was he a Natborn that vaguely resembled the millions of brothers?) watched you walk away with his one functioning eye and a poorly hidden whisper to his friend. “’Think that’s the gal he’s been askin’ about?”

“Looks like ‘er.” The smaller of the duo answered in a grating voice.

Your brow furrowed - a lot of clones tended to ask about you given your tendency to move between legions and battalions but it was rare that they talked about you to the extent that someone who’d never met you could recognize you. If you were honest, it was a little unnerving. But, despite your best effort to keep the thoughts at bay, you were briefly reminded of a conversation you’d once had with Fives.

“He talks abou’ you a lot, y’know.” The newly promoted arc trooper slurred as he heavily leaned against you. He vaguely gestured in the direction of his aforementioned brother where he leaned against the bar, armor glinting in the low lighting, after he timidly offered to get you a new drink. You’d protested, telling him it was his big night, you’d get the drinks but he took off before you could even get to your feet. “Just too shy to do anything but that.”

“What does he say?” You asked the drunken trooper quietly as your pulse began to speed up. You, admittedly, hadn’t taken much interest in Echo at first - you thought him boring and stiff - but recently he’d been challenging your perception of him. And you’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t started to admire the capable, quick-witted, snippy, but kind, sensitive, and charming soldier.

“Says ‘e likes you, wish he could work up the nerve to talk to you, thinks you’re the prettiest damn medic in the GAR, thinks you’re a kriffin’ genius...and, ‘m pretty sure he’s in love with you.” Fives took another hearty swig of his drink, shutting up for the first time in what seemed like hours, which gave you enough time to consider his words. While you didn’t want to put all your faith in the drunken mess of an explanation Fives had given you - he did know his twin the best and he’d never lied to you. Maybe - you took another good long look at Echo - just maybe, - you saw him take a deep breath as the bartender handed him your drinks, almost like he was trying to psych himself up - you’d take a chance. You met Echo’s gaze as he turned around, sending him a fond smile that he sheepishly returned.

Rex led you to a separated part of the med bay primarily meant for rehabilitation where he finally came to a halt just before the door. “Now,” he began as he turned to you, Jesse stopped at your side with crossed arms and a strange, conspiring smile on his face, “I want you to walk between Jesse and I.” Rex ordered quietly as if scared of being overheard.

Your brow furrowed immediately. “Why?”

“In case ya faint.” Jesse answered back.

With a roll of your eyes that could rival the likes of Wolffe’s, you turned to the ARC trooper. “Jesse, I’m a field medic whose spent most of her career on the front lines dealing with a menagerie of injuries. I’m sure whatever it is, I can handle it.”

“Be prepared to eat those words.” Jesse muttered under his breath in retort but you elected not to respond, instead, you turned your attention back to Rex who was staring at you uncertainly.

“All the same, let me go in first and make sure he’s ready.” Rex offered gently with a softly placed hand on your shoulder. He had an odd look in his eyes - somewhere between apprehensive, compassionate, and elated - as he looked at you.

“You’re the captain...” You muttered, suddenly feeling on edge. Jesse must have noticed your tense form for he softly grabbed your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Rex nodded to Jesse then to you before strolling in to the room. The door slid into place behind him leaving you and Jesse for a few minutes. The ARC trooper didn’t let go of your hand till Rex came back and gestured with a nod of his head for the two of you to come in. Rex went back in first, followed by Jesse, with you taking up the rear. The air was strangely tense as you followed behind the two clone troopers so you couldn’t stop your mind from preparing itself to see the worst. While not uncommon for you to visit patients in the middle of rehabilitation it wasn’t why you were part of the GAR. It was just something you’d started doing after serving with the clone forces for so long. But never before had you been nervous. Without warning, Jesse stopped right in front of you causing you to bump into his back. Instead of laughing at you like you thought he would, Jesse angled his body enough for you step in front of him and gently encouraged you to do so with a hand between your shoulder blades.

You came to a halt in front of him and the ARC trooper kept his hand where it was as if trying to steady you. Seriously, why were they being so weird? You still couldn’t see very far into the room - only the equipment shoved against the walls closest to the door - thanks to Rex who stood in front of you. There was no talking. Rex dipped his head at whoever was in the room and stepped to the side.

Before you was a trooper dressed in red fatigues. His frame was thin, cheeks sunken in, and his skin unnaturally pale. And he was missing an arm which had been replaced with a computer interface arm one would expect to see on an R-series. His head had also been shaved which revealed small, port like protrusions out of his skull. And upon glancing your eyes downward, you noticed that the trooper’s legs had been replaced with mechanical ones. Not to be flippant but he looked like he’d been through hell and back.

With a deep breath, you let a mollifying smile slip onto your lips and a sympathetic look fill your eyes. “Hello,” you kept your voice soft too, just in case the trooper was nervous, “My name is Dr. L/n. What’s yours?”

His brow furrowed and it was only now, after his expression had changed, that you noticed that it had once been almost hopeful. Now, he looked confused. Or more accurately, conflicted. His pale brown eyes were frantically darting back and forth as if searching your face for an answer to a question that was left unasked. “I-it’s me.” He finally spoke in a frail voice. You cocked your head to the side. That was adimttedly an odd name but who were you to judge? Just as you were opening your mouth to speak, he continued. “Cyare, it’s me.” Your mouth clamped shut as the first word slipped from him as the instinct to snap briefly took over. Only one person got to call you that.

“Trooper, forgive my bluntness but-”

“Meshurok.” Hearing that word made it feel as though ice had been injected into your body. Shivers ran up and down your spine and goose bumps formed all over. No one had called you that since...Echo.

“How...?” You felt your body start to fall back only to be stopped by a hand between your shoulder blades. Jesse was still there and Rex was standing just off to the side. They were both real. But was he...?

“When I first worked up the nerve to ask you out, you were wearing a necklace with a kyanite pendant. I asked you where you’d gotten it and what it was.” The trooper took a careful step forward and you felt your heart begin to speed. “You told me it was gifted to you by a young Twi’lek girl you helped when you were on Ryloth with the 187th.” He took another step. “She’d gifted it to you and told you that it was it represented new beginnings.” You took a step forward, eyes wide. “I asked if I could be a part of your new beginnings.” You took another step forward.

“And I said ‘only if I get to be a part of yours’.” Your voice was wispy, choked with old ghosts. “Echo...” Before you knew it, you were wrapped in his arms. “Echo.” You didn’t care that your voice trembled with barely restrained sobs or that Jesse and Rex were barely three feet away. All you cared about was how familiar he felt - familiar and safe. Home, your mind supplied. “I-I, but the citadel and the ship - I...you...oh god.” You pulled back, almost giving yourself whiplash in the process as your instincts took over. Your hands reached up to gently hold the sides of his face while you reevaluated his appearance. “How did you survive the ship?” Your fingers were busily skimming all the alterations that had most likely been forced onto your cyar’ika. You noticed that his eyelids fluttered closed at the sensation of your fingers on his skin and it made your heart squeeze in both affection and the need to protect him.

“I don’t really know, mesh’la. I just remember trying to take the ship, it exploding, and then waking up being dragged.” Echo whispered, keeping his hand stubbornly fixed on your waist. Behind you there was the sound of the door sliding closed which you guessed was Rex and Jesse making their exit.

“Kriffing droids, how dare they touch you,” At some point in your speedy assessment you started to mutter, “I should go there and tear each one to scraps with my bare hands.”

Echo chuckled and it was enough to bring tears to your eyes, your hand paused just above the computer interface arm. “Who did this to you?” Although it was whispered, Echo heard you clear as day.

He sighed and gently rested his head against yours, “Seps, techno union - they don’t matter.”

“They hurt you - I’m going to find them and kill them myself.”

“I thought your whole thing was ‘do no harm’.” Echo quipped and the smile that followed, though no where near as wide as you were used to, was warm and genuine and enough to pacify you for now.

“I can make exceptions.” You muttered but the fire had died down. Another puff of air brushed against your face - another reminder that Echo really was here.

“Later then.” He pressed his lips against your forehead and drew you closer. You sighed and melted against him, the happiest you’d been in a long time as the first few words of another new chapter formed before your very eyes.

Taglist: @apocalypticwafflekitten / @cherryxcyarika / @pinkiemme / @justalittlecloud

#echo x reader #arc trooper echo x reader #arc trooper echo #echo #echoxreader #echo x you #star wars: clone wars #the clone wars #star wars #star wars x reader #300 followers special

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koyacyi-vode · 4 years

Text

@phantom-of-the-keurig asked for 4 headcanons of Cody but I'm STUPID and deleted the ask by accident so here it is as a post.

---

Headcanon A - realistic:

Off the battlefield, Cody is quiet and rather softspoken compared to many of his brothers. He prefers to observe people and doesn't mind silence for the most part. Cody's incredibly perceptive and analytical and will remember small details from the tiniest interactions (whether he uses it to do something nice like requisition Obi-Wan's favorite tea from Naboo or being a mischievous little shit and teasing his brothers for their embarrassing cadet mishaps is up to how he's feeling that day on the bastard-scale).

Cody's most relaxed when he can sit down and work through paperwork with Obi-Wan in companionable silence over tea and caff in the late hours of the rotation, when he doesn't have to be Marshal Commander Cody or his brothers' vod'alor for a few hours.

Headcanon B - while it may not be realistic it is hilarious:

Cody is not a morning person. He's barely recognizable until he's had about 3 cups of caff. Waxer was traumatized when he accidentally asked Cody a question before Cody had his first cup. He told Boil with a haunted expression that the look on Cody's face was "unspeakable".

Headcanon C - heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends:

Being a Marshal Commander, there's a tangible distance between Cody and the rest of his brothers. He holds the highest rank a clone can hold in the GAR, there's only three other Marshal Commanders we know of - Bacara, Neyo, and Bly. That title comes with a helluva lot of authority, commanding ~39,000 men (according to the GAR wiki page, or a lot more if you consider other meta). It also comes with a lot of paperwork.

By paperwork, I mean that Cody has to fill out thousands of casualty reports. Men he knew personally, men he didn't know at all. Cody has to fill them out and date them. His memory is good, he has a tally in his head, he knows exactly how many men have died under his command.

He copes by just, keeping his distance, emotionally and physically. He knows his men by name and everything about them tactically and he cares deeply for them. But he can't really participate in the shenanigans and antics that his brothers get up to. If he gets too close, it hurts too much and is too unbearable when they eventually are killed.

It makes Cody appear as hardened and unreadable, but he's a Marshal Commander! He's amazing! His men worship him, honestly and Cody wants nothing more than to keep them alive through each campaign, even though he knows that's impossible and he knows they were designed to die for the Republic. He keeps his distance to keep himself clear-headed, to keep him focused on the big picture of completing the mission with the fewest casualties possible.

And there's a palpable loneliness to never getting close to anyone. And Cody is not immune to it. But he hides it under layers and layers of duty and responsibility and 'just don't have the time'. Sometimes brothers weasel their way past the shields he puts up over his heart. Rex was the first outside of his batchmates that got close, and Cody's deepest fear is that he will have to one day put CT-7567 on a casualty report. He knows that his closeness is a weakness and will make him impulsive and reckless if they are in danger.

But the longer troopers stay in the 212th the more likely it is for them to close the gap of distance. It's why Waxer's death on Umbara probably hit Cody incredibly hard. Waxer and Boil are some of the 212ths most senior troopers. Waxer, who Cody knows is kind and gentle and loves kids. Waxer who was killed by friendly-fire on the traitorous orders of Pong Krell that Cody probably had to relay to him, not knowing what Waxer's platoon was walking into.

In the aftermath of Umbara, Rex brings Waxer's helmet to Cody. They both sit in silence with the helmet between them, unable to say anything at all. And it's the first time Cody really, really thinks: what is the point of all of this?

But he still fills out his paperwork and adds Waxer's number to the casualty report for Umbara, and does his duty to the utmost perfection, as he always has.

Headcanon D - unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own:

The reason that Cody chose not to wear a kama, despite it being standard kit for his rank and from ARC training, is that it impeded with his ability to kick the shit out of things. When his go-to tactic for unarmed combat is a roundhouse kick to the face, a kama would only slow down his momentum.

On the topic of Cody kicking the shit out of things (I saw the term foot-to-face combat for Cody and never looked back), Cody's got thighs that could kill a man. He can crush watermelons with those babies. Cody's. Got. The BEEF.

#not my saddest headcanons this time cause i couldnt handle braving post 66 cody okay i couldnt do it #commander cody #sorry this took so long!!!!! idk what happened the words just werent comin'#fluff answers #also forgot his doodle i am on fire for failing today

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