This Is So Sweet. ❤️

Ohmigosh. THE SEQUEL❣️ SUGARPOP! My heart exploded when I saw this. 💥 💖 It is kriffing perfect and everything I hoped it would be! Thank you…. Thank you! @vodika-vibes is a legend!!

# sometimes a sneaky suggestion works #PopBly is my new fave #they deserve the happiness #Bly is a true hero #Cody is a putz and never deserved her # the Sugarpop Saga

She Could Have Been Mine

A companion piece to Sugarpop

Summary: Cody realizes what he lost.

Pairing: Background Commander Bly x F!Reader, Commander Cody

Word Count: 1086

Warnings: None? Minor angst

A/N: So, I finally wrote the sequel/companion piece to Sugarpop that so so many of you asked for. I hope you all like it.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

Loving her is easy.

She’s easy to love. Kind and gentle, warm and welcoming in a way you don’t see often outside the Jedi.

For Cody, loving her is as natural as breathing. 

And yet, he’s known from the start that she was too good for him. Someone like her deserves only the best. And Cody is far from the best.

So he does what he knows has to be done. He keeps his distance, treating her like a dear friend, almost a sister, but nothing more. He meets other women and dates them, and she always greets them with a warm smile and a baked treat.

And he ignores the way that she looks at him. The way she smiles at him. 

He ignores how her smile falters when he introduces another woman to the friend group. And he pretends he can’t see her heart breaking in her eyes every time he chooses someone else.

It’s for the best.

She deserves better than him.

When she gets kidnapped, her front door kicked in and her apartment trashed, Cody’s heart drops. He’s sure that they’re going to find her body in a ditch somewhere on Coruscant.

He gives up on her.

He can’t conceive of the possibility that she survives something like that. It’s not like she’s a soldier or anything like that. She’s just a baker. And, as much as he loves her, he can’t cling to the faint hope that she might still live. He has a war to win.

Bly…doesn’t agree.

“You have no proof that she’s dead!” Bly snaps, as he’s held back by Wolffe and Fox. Cody’s grateful for it, for all that Bly seems like an easygoing guy, he’s not sure he’d win in a fistfight against him. “You’re giving up on her even though nothing is indicating she’s dead?! What kind of friend are you?”

“I’m a realist, Bly. She’s just a baker—”

Bly rips himself free from his brothers and manages to restrain his anger with great difficulty, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so disgusted with one of my own brothers before. I refuse to give up. I’m going to find her.”

Six months later, Cody is sure that Bly must have given up. Everyone else has.

And yet, Bly sends a simple message in the group chat, “I found her. She’s alive. Will return to Coruscant when deployment ends.”

For Cody, the message is like a breath of fresh air. He never, once, dared to hope that she might still be alive.

And, for the first time, Cody starts to think that maybe he’s been going about this all wrong. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time for him to be honest with himself. 

The first time Cody sees her after her long imprisonment, he almost doesn’t recognize her. Her hair is cropped shorter than he had ever seen before, and she looks like she’s lost weight…but when she sees him she offers the same warm smile that she always gave him.

The same smile that makes his heart skip a beat. The same smile that he fell in love with all those months ago.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Cody offers as she walks over to him.

“Thank you. General Secura put me in touch with a mind healer at the temple, to help me process everything that happened to me. But…” She trails off, and looks away from him, her smile softening slightly, “I think I’m going to be alright.”

“That’s good. I’m glad the Jedi are willing to help you.”

“Well, General Secura said something about the kidnapping being half their fault? I’m not sure what she means, but she feels really guilty about it.”

Well, that’s news to him. But also, he doesn’t want to talk about the Jedi right now. Cody opens his mouth to say something, a rough plan on how he’d ask her on a date starting to form in the back of his mind.

Only he never gets the chance to speak.

“Sugarpop!” Her head turns to the side and a blinding smile crosses her face as she sees Bly standing there, “I was wondering where you slipped off to.”

Cody watches, stunned, as she turns away from him and skips over to Bly, not slowing as she crashes into him and wraps her arms around his neck. And he watches as Bly spins her around to work off some of that momentum, and then leans in to press his forehead against hers.

Oh.

Her hands come up and press against his cheeks, and a giggle he’s never heard before slips from her lips as Bly whispers something to her.

Oh.

A wry, slightly wistful, smile crosses his lips. 

He missed his chance. 

His gaze meets Bly’s for a moment, and then Cody looks away. He doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t deserve to see this.

He hears Bly murmur something to her, and he glances at them in time to see her nod and slide back to the ground. “Are we still going to go to the—?” She trails off, her voice tinged in hope.

Bly grins at her and kisses her forehead, “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” He takes her hands for a moment, “Wait outside for me? I’ll be just a few minutes.”

“Alright.” She turns and smiles at Cody, “I’ll see you later, Cody!”

“Yeah. Later.” Cody watches her leave the building and then turns his attention to his brother.

“You alright, Codes?” Bly asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I’m not an idiot and I know you love her?”

“I’m fine, Bly. I’m not entitled to her.”

Bly sighs, “Did you think she was going to wait forever?”

“No. Of course not.” He pauses and then rubs the back of his neck, “Is she happy?”

“I like to think so.”

“Then that’s good enough for me. Just…keep making her happy, and I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Stop worrying about me, dumbass. Go to your girl.”

“Fine, fine.” Bly turns to leave the building as well, “Oh, but I’m telling Wolffe and Fox that you’re feeling sad.”

Cody huffs out a laugh, “Thanks.” Then Bly and gone and Cody takes a moment to push his hand through his hair.

She could have been his if he hadn’t been such a moron. But then, he’s not sure he’d be able to make her as happy as Bly does.

He tilts his head back, and a bitter laugh slips from him, “Force, I’m such a kriffing idiot.”

@heidnspeak

@justiceandwar98

@etod

@kiss-anon

@lonewolflupe

@silly-starfish

@msmeredithrose

@cdblake1565

@badbatch-bitch

@continous-mistakes

@falconfeather23435

@tiredbi-peach

@kimiheartblade

@clones-cyare

@cc--2224

@0revna0

@mira-loves-star-wars

@trixie2023

@rebell-ious

@padawancat97

@sweater-sloot

@bekahcurlygirl

@bb8-99

@maniacalbooper

@wax-birds

@adriennelenoir

@omegaprime18

@bad4amficideas

@bekah_curlygirl

@dukeoftheblackstar

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@arctech-fox

Mmmm Hunter….. @faithwalkcreationscloneart ALWAYS captures the moment with her fantastic pieces. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️❤️

I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do for my birthday than paint Hunter, so here he is! Can we call him the man in black? Or blacks? 😁 I just made a simple one but wanted to capture his thoughtful look. It's an 8x10 acrylic on canvas board, and yes I do make prints.

I have an Etsy shop with prints of my fan art and some custom 3D pieces for sale. https://www.etsy.com/shop/FaithwalkCreationsCo

On Facebook you can find me at https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61564620144107

Do I love a hero move or what?! @vodika-vibes nailed it! His bunny…. 😍

You Belong With Me

Summary: Wolffe wants you to be happy. It’s all he’s ever wanted. But watching you with him is killing him.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader

Word Count: 1221

Warnings: Reader has a pretty serious burn, Reader is described as having hair long enough to tuck behind her ear, Reader's boyfriend is described as a jerk

A/N: I'm not sure about this one, I had an idea but then I changed the idea halfway though and I feel like this fic is kind of disjointed. But I woke up freezing and with a migraine threatening me, so this is the best I have today.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

He swore that he wouldn’t get involved.

He promised himself that he would be happy for her and that he’d play nice with her boyfriend. 

But Wolffe doesn’t think he hates anyone as much as he hates the man who just forbade her from drinking her favorite cocktail. Only for his ire to grow to new heights when he makes a joke about how she needs to lose some weight.

He watches her face fall, and he watches how she nervously plays with the sleeve of her dress, and Wolffe finds himself seriously contemplating how to best kill the boyfriend in a way that won’t come back to him…or onto her.

She hates wearing dresses, and she hates wearing long sleeves. If he has to guess, the boyfriend bullied her into dressing in a way that makes her look delicate and soft, rather than allowing her to be comfortable.

Wolffe downs half of his drink in one long gulp, trying to distract himself before he does something foolish…like throw the boyfriend out a window and into traffic.

Not that his brothers would let him do such a thing…well, not with so many witnesses around, at least.

Finally, after several more comments about things that she needs to change to be more attractive, the boyfriend wanders off to go and talk with some of his friends, and Wolffe immediately moves to her side.

Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and Wolffe has to bite his cheek to keep himself in check.

She scans his face for a moment, and then she folds her arms over her chest and curls in on herself, as if to make herself smaller. “You’re mad.”

Wolffe huffs out a laugh and lightly takes a strand of her hair between his fingers so he’s able to tug on it, “Don’t be silly, this is just my face. I always look like this.”

“I’d believe that if you didn’t look like Count Dooku just walked into the bar,” She replies.

Oh. Oops. He thought he was hiding his emotions better than that.

“Ah, well…I’m not mad at you, Bunny. Don’t you worry.”

Her gaze slides across his face again, “You hate him.”

“Well, I’m not dating him. I don’t have to like him.” Wolffe glances at her boyfriend, and he scowls, “He’s kind of…immature.” He’s a walking shit-stain is what Wolffe really wants to say, but his Bunny already looks so defeated and he doesn’t want to upset her.

“He’s not normally like this,” She tries, “I think he’s intimidated by you and your brothers.”

He scoffs, unimpressed. 

“Anyway,” Wolffe lets his gaze drift over her, “Since when do you wear dresses? Let alone dresses with long sleeves?” He lightly plucks the sleeve of her dress, and his eyebrows creep up when she quickly tugs the sleeve down over her hand.

Tellingly, she won’t look him in the eye. “Well, I thought, maybe it’s time for a change?”

“That right?” Wolffe leans back slightly and examines her properly, “You look uncomfortable.”

“W-well, it’s new and kind of uncomfortable—”

“Bunny,” Wolffe reaches out for her hand and she immediately presses the palm of her hand against his. Her hand is so small when compared to his, it just makes him want to protect her even more, “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I just…I don’t want you to get angry. I’m not worth that.”

“I’m a grown man, you don’t have to try and manage my emotions.”

“But…” She trails off and then, with her free hand, she tugs her sleeve down her arm, revealing an angry-looking burn on her forearm, the blister is easily three inches long and it looks bad.

“Why didn’t you go to a hospital?” Wolffe asks as he gently takes her arm and moves it so he’s able to see the burn better. It looks like she’s been cleaning it and treating it with bacta, but until the blister is popped her treatment isn’t going to do much.

She shrugs one shoulder, “He said that I shouldn’t. That it would be a waste of resources when I can treat it myself.”

“Did he do this to you?”

“What? No!” Her gaze snaps to his face, “Not intentionally. It was an accident. He might be kind of a jerk, Wolffe, but he’s not abusive. I swear.”

Wolffe takes her hand and tugs her over to where a group of medic brothers are gathered, “Then what happened?”

“It really was an accident,” She insists as she trails behind him, “I was helping him make something for his mother, and he tripped over his kid sister while holding a frying pan full of hot oil. His concern was getting the kid out of the way, and I got hit.”

“Mm…fine.” He doesn’t like it, but accidents happen. “What about the way he talks about you?”

She averts her gaze, “I dunno…he’s never said stuff like that before.”

Wolffe’s eyes narrow, “And the dress? You hate wearing dressed because you’re always cold.”

“I…he’s allowed to have preferences.”

“Yes, he is. And so are you.” Wolffe stops and turns to face her while threading his fingers with hers, “Come on, bunny. Are you happy with him? Because I’ve seen you happy, and I’m not seeing any of that right now.”

She squeezes his hand, “He asked, Wolffe. And…I didn’t know how to say no.” It’s a quiet admission, but it’s an admission all the same.

Wolffe sighs and lightly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “We really need to work on your boundaries, bunny. And, for what it’s worth, I think you deserve better than someone who wants you to change for him.”

“It’s not like anyone is interested, Wolffe.”

“Maybe you should try looking a little closer to home,” He counters pointedly.

She blinks at him, “Closer to home?”

“Maybe someone who you’re already friends with?”

He watches realization cross her face, “Wait, you mean yo—” Wolffe lightly presses a finger against her lips, cutting her off.

“Bunny, your boyfriend is making out with the waitress.” He probably shouldn’t be as amused by that as he is, but he’s never claimed that he’s a good person.

She turns her head, and her expression sours, before she looks up at Wolffe, “I’d like to leave.”

“Alright, we’re going to the clinic, right?” Wolffe asks pointedly as he lifts her injured arm.

“Home first, I wanna change into something a little less…Little House on the Prairie. And then, yes, you can bring me to the 24-hour GAR clinic.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” Wolffe mutters.

“And then, after they clean it, maybe we can get some caf?”

“Bunny, are you asking me on a date?”

She looks up at him, a little anxiously, “Only if  you want?”

Wolffe flashes a crooked smile at her, and then drops a kiss to her temple, “I would be honored. Don’t you have to break up with tweedle-dumb over there?”

“Don’t be mean. I’ll send him a text.”

“Now who’s the mean one?”

His bunny pouts at him, and then carefully tugs her sleeve down over her burn, “Let’s get out of here, Wolffe.”

“As you wish, bunny.” This isn’t how he planned on catching his bunny’s attention, but now that he has it, he’s not going to let it go for love or money.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

Riley showing off his Hunter bandana collar.

Echo! Sweet and badass!

Echo canonically being sentimental (and a sweetheart)

With his armor, there's also the "For Hevy" memorial, the fact he kept Rex's handprint, and that he put the Bad Batch skull on his armor before he even joined them

Echo holding 99 as he died has always stuck out to me as one of the saddest/sweetest things in TCW (especially since the show rarely actually shows clones mourning/expressing much emotion)

I also noticed that Echo is often the one to mention his brothers by name, and make sure they're remembered. And of course his entire thing about saving his brothers and leaving no one behind. (Also that he turned the call signs into this like nickname/inside joke thing with Omega is so adorable to me ahh)

--

And then there's whatever this is:

Not even a reaction to the name (and we know they are good at implying expression under those helmets)! I know this is old news but it bears saying lol. They had the perfect opportunity here to not only address Echo's loss, but also to honor Fives and the sacrifice he made to discover the chips. A sacrifice which saved Ahsoka, Rex, and now the Bad Batch. This is obviously not the first time Echo and Rex talked about Fives, he knows he's dead (I firmly believe he would not have left the 501st if Fives was still alive), but come on! This did the bare minimum to check the box of 'mention Fives.' How about you cut Wrecker getting attacked by a sarlacc or whatever and give that screen time to show us an actual conversation?

Like I found this bit in an interview:

While the conversation obviously never happened onscreen, Corbett says that doesn't mean it never happened, suggesting the two talked offscreen, saying "For Fives, I imagine that Rex and Echo had that conversation after he was rescued off of Skako Minor, and I know in Season 1 we did have Rex reference Fives on Bracca," adding "So, in my headcanon, they've had many conversations about Fives."

And I'm just like... Jennifer! You don't have to have headcanons, you are literally the writer! Show us!!

(Also he should have gotten his handprint again no I will never let this go)

This is it exactly.

I need this scene permanently engrained in my head

Gorgeous Echo my love! Best tattoo idea for Echo. I love it so much! Rex-Fives-TBB … his history beautifully on display. 😍❤️

# echo never looked better

We just need more Echo, am I right?

💚Tag List💚

@legacygirlingreen @thora-sniper @thecoffeelorian @neyswxrld @somewhere-on-kamino @clonethirstingisreal @royallykt @morerandombullshit @burningfieldof-clover @tbnrpotato @keantha @returnofthepineapple @justanotherdikutsimp @antisocial-mariposa @techs-stitches @resistantecho @kimiheartblade @dezgate @sunshinesdaydream

“The time is always right to do what is right.” MLK

Padawan Avery was a bright light in that morgue of mud. Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. Aay’han.

Thank you Pina for this deeply felt story and for your brave OC. I hope to read more with her. ❤️

The First Cracks

Summary: Avery Leto, Jedi padawan and healer in training, is sent on a mission to act as field medic during The Clone Wars. What she sees will begin to shape her perspective of the war and the troopers fighting in it.

Warnings: This one’s going to hurt guys. There’s blood, there’s death, there’s Pong Krell being Pong Krell.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Yet another fic that I thought I’d reposted after my blog deletion but I found it tucked away lol. Enjoy hating Pong Krell all over again I guess 😆

She stood there in the aftermath of the battle. The brewing storm whipped her padawan braid across her face while small frigid rain drops beat against her skin. They’d won, or so she’d been told.

“Another victory in the bag!” Master Krell boasted, pushing out his chest in an impossibly arrogant fashion. Pong Krell had come in Master Yoda’s place much to everyone’s dismay.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. So many dead men. Was his victory worth this? The Republic would think so. His impeccable record was held in high regard by the Senate.

“General Krell. Commander Leto. We’ve almost finished securing the injured. We will be ready for departure soon.” Clone Commander Gree sounded exhausted. She stepped forward toward the carnage before her. She had a feeling she had to help at least one more trooper. She wasn’t sure if it was the Force or anxiety but whatever it was compelled her back to the field.

“What are you doing, Padawan Leto? We are shipping out. Get on the transport.”

She paused, squaring her shoulders and looking Krell in the eye, “Master Krell, I am making one more round to ensure all men are accounted for. As the medic assigned to you for this mission I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t.”

Krell huffed, “It’s an awful lot of fuss for some clones.”

She saw Gree flinch as Krell marched back to the transport. She placed her hand on the Commander’s arm, “If any of your brothers are still alive out there, I’ll find them.” He tilted his head toward her, a sad smile hidden by the helmet he wore.

The rain had picked up intensity forcing her to pull her cloak tightly against herself. She felt nauseous as her boots sloshed through a mud composed of dirt, rainwater, and blood. So much blood. Droids don’t bleed, this was from her men. She swept the field with the Force, hoping, praying she could save one more. A fresh faced young padawan, only 20 years of age when the war began; now one year in and she felt older than Master Yoda some days.

Her ruminations were interrupted by the beeping of a lifesigns alert. Her heart lurched. A survivor. She ran, her GAR standard issue medic bag swaying, the weight of it threatening to steal her balance in every hurried step. She ignored the gut wrenching splash of the bloody water being kicked up her legs and the sound of Krell’s voice demanding she come back. Then the screaming began. He was scared, in pain, alone, and screaming for his brothers.

She slid to a stop and fell to her knees next to the clone, “Trooper! Trooper I’m here!” She gently removed his helmet. Her heart broke at the terror in his eyes.

“It hurts! It hurts! Please help me! Help me! Oh by the Force it kriffing hurts!” He was just a shiny.

She shushed him with the gentleness of a mother he never had, “Eyes on me, eyes on me. I’m here now.” She touched him with the Force and wanted to throw up. He wasn’t going to make it. She couldn’t save him. She positioned herself perpendicular to him, gently placing his head on her lap, “I can help with the pain. Would you like that?”

“Please! Yes, please!” His sobs were agonizing. She brushed his head softly, wiping the raindrops away. She breathed and called on the Force, her hands pressed to his temples. She felt him relax and all his fear and pain dissipated.

“Are…are you an Ethereal?” He panted as the wave of relief swept over him.

She laughed, “No, just a lowly padawan and medic.”

He paused as he studied her face, “I’m not going home, am I medic?”

Her smile dropped as she looked away. She couldn’t answer him. He knew and she was too cowardly to confirm the inevitable.

“It’s okay.” He grabbed her wrist, “I’m not scared anymore. I don’t know what you did to me but I’m not scared.”

She stroked his brow, “Good. You’re not alone, trooper. I’m here. I won’t be leaving your side.”

He smiled and managed a weak laugh, “If they’d told me in training I’d be dying in the arms of a beautiful girl I would have told them they were crazy.”

“Commander Leto, General Krell has sent me to retrieve you and bring you back to the transport ship,” Commander Gree’s voice startled her as he knelt next to his brother. She hadn’t heard him approach, she’d have to work on dividing her attention on the battlefield better.

“You can tell General Krell I said he can eat bantha poodoo, Commander. I’m not leaving his side.” She even shocked herself at the harshness of her tone. It wasn’t his fault Krell was a pathetic excuse for a Jedi and an even worse general. “My apologies commander. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

Gree held up his hand, “It’s alright. I understand. But I do have orders to bring you back.” She pondered all of her options. She wasn’t leaving this man to die alone. It was out of the question.

And then she had an idea, “Commander, yell at me.”

“Sir?”

“Yell at me. Demand I go back with you. Krell will hear you. I’ll give you a….gentle…force push. I promise I won’t be rough, but it will be enough for Krell to think you’ve done your job and you won’t be on the receiving end of his temper. The consequences of my actions will fall on me and me alone. I’m not leaving your brother’s side.”

The Commander removed his bucket, and Avery realized it was the first time she’d seen his face. “Thank you. And I am sorry for what I am going to say next. I don’t mean a word of it.”

She nodded, smiling softly silently acknowledging his apology. She glanced and saw Krell watching, arms crossed. Even at that distance she could see the scowl on his face. “Go ahead,” she whispered. And so he did.

Her plan worked, and before she knew it Pong Krell was standing over her screaming, “You’re wasting time you petulant child! Over some clone! There are thousands more to replace him! He won’t be remembered or missed and you’re here wasting precious time on him! Get up and walk to that transport ship or I will have my commander stun you and carry you back!”

Gree snapped his head toward Krell, shocked and horrified at the prospect that he might be forced to stun the padawan who was caring for his brother. Appalled because she was showing him the only act of kindness he’d know outside of the bond with his squad.

Krell’s words stoked a fire of rage within Avery. She knew it was wrong. Jedi should not feel rage. But she was consumed by it instantaneously. She released the trooper’s hand and gingerly lay his head on the ground before she rose to her feet. Her eyes burned and her jaw clenched as she drew her lightsaber, the teal blade reflecting through the pouring rain.

“You will have to carry my cold dead corpse to that transport ship, Master Krell. Don’t be a coward and send your Commander to do your dirty work. I’m just a padawan. I should be an easy victory for you.” She stepped to the side, swinging her saber in idle circles, a challenge to the Master she was staring down. She hoped she looked more brave than she felt.

“The Council and your Master will hear about this!” Krell’s threat rumbled just above the thunder of the storm.

“Good.” Her voice didn’t shake and for that she was grateful.

“Watch her! Don’t let her go anywhere,” Krell growled at Gree as he stormed off. Avery deactivated her saber and immediately dropped back to the ground, returning his head to her lap.

“M-miss m-m-medic, I d-don’t think I h-have ever seen anything q-q-quiet so b-brave or stupid in m-my life,” the trooper huffed a strangled laugh as he began to shake.

“You’re cold, here.” Avery removed her cloak and covered him. “What is your name, by the way?”

“T-thank you. I’m CT 43-0253.” He was shaking less with the warmth of her cloak but his voice was getting weaker.

“No, not your designation. Your name. What do your brothers call you?”

He smiled sadly, “I hadn’t picked one yet. I wanted to…wait. Until after the battle. Guess I don’t get to now. That was stupid of me.” There was a beat of silence before Avery asked, “What about ‘Aay’han’?” She didn’t hesitate, the Mando’a rolled off her tongue as if she’d been a native speaker. The trooper stared at her puzzled.

Gree spoke up, “I think that’s perfect. Have you learned any Mando’a, trooper?”

“No sir. Didn’t get the opportunity.”

“The name our medic has given you is akin to remembering and celebrating, the balance of mourning and joy.”

“Oh. But the General said…”

“Kriff him. We’ll remember you. Always.” Avery firmly interrupted him, brushing the soaked strands of hair from his brow. “Brace yourself boys, our favorite General is coming back.”

Krell looked all the more intimidating as lightning backlit his imposing frame. Avery did her best not to shirk back but he looked like he’d grown exponentially with his rage.

“See this Masters? This insubordinate brat is defying my orders!” Krell tried to sound composed but his rage seeped through his words.

She realized he was holding his portable holoprojector, the hazy blue figures of Master Windu and Master Yoda watching her. She didn’t have time to worry about that though as Aay’han began gasping painfully.

“Masters with all due respect, I am in the middle of something important. When I am done I will happily answer any questions you may have.”

“Very well padawan, but Master Yoda and I prefer to observe you.” Master Windu’s even tone crackled through the projector. Avery nodded sharply and resumed the comfort care she was providing her trooper.

“Miss,” Aay’han choked some before powering through, “what do you think it’s like? Death, I mean.”

She attempted to shield his face from the pounding rain. She felt the three Masters watching her, two curiously and one furiously. “Well, we, Jedi I mean, we believe there is no death. The body is just a vessel. When you die, you return to the Living Force. Never gone. Just…returned to where you came from.”

He chuckled, “Oh. That’s sounds…nice. I hope you’re right, returning to the Force I mean. I’m not keen on staying on Kamino forever.” He huffed another pained laugh before a groan escaped his lips. Speaking was becoming difficult for him. “Thank you. For the name. And for staying.”

“You’re welcome, Aay’han. It’s been an honor knowing you trooper and an honor guiding you back to the Force.” His eyes had already closed, his breathing was becoming labored and irregular. In a silence only broken by the pounding rain and rumbling thunder, Aay’han returned to the Force. She covered his face with her cloak before standing to turn to face the Jedi Masters in the hologram, “My job is done, Masters. I will answer any questions you have for me.”

“Enough, we have seen. To the temple, please return,” Master Yoda ordered.

“With pleasure, Master,” Krell growled and he shut off the projector. “Commander, put her in binders. When we are back on the cruiser I want her detained. I don’t want her getting any other ideas.”

“Sir! She…”

“It’s alright Commander,” Avery extended her wrists to him. “Do as your General says. I’ll be fine.”

“Sir…yes, sir.”

“That’s the first wise choice you’ve made this evening. I’ll see that you’re kicked out of the Order for this.” Krell sounded even more proud of the idea of having Avery removed than of his victory in battle.

Avery didn’t answer him. She stared straight ahead, jaw set with a facade of ambivalence barely held together by her few remaining strands of self control.

**********

The voyage back to the Jedi Temple was arduous, harrowing, and anguishingly long. Krell ensured she’d be transported like a common criminal. In her solitude she replayed the events that landed her in this situation over and over. What could she have done differently? If she’d been more skilled with Force healing could she have saved Aay’han? If she’d trained harder could she have done more? Did she even make the right choice? Should she have just left him and gone back to the transport? Is his death on her hands? The self doubt seeped through her like her favorite tea seeped through the tea bag.

Upon Master Krell’s orders, Avery was marched into the Temple in binders. He’d not even let her change her clothes. She was still heavily caked in mud and blood. Her face was dirty with streaks where her tears traversed her cheeks. She suspected he aimed to humiliate her. She refused to give him the satisfaction. Krell charged in before the Council, all bravado and indignation while Commander Gree gently guided her in behind him. The softness of his hand on her back stood in sharp contrast to the aggressive aura of Krell.

“Master Krell, don’t you think the binders are a little excessive?” Master Windu queried, a hint of agitation nipping at his question.

“I didn’t want her to try to escape. She needed to come before you and answer for what she did!” The accusation was absurd at best and she was grateful the Masters seated before her seemed to know that.

“Commander Gree, remove the binders please. I do not believe she will go anywhere,” Master Plo gently requested as he gave Avery a soft paternal nod.

“Sir, yes sir!” Gree could barely contain his joy and gave her a comforting squeeze of the hand before removing the binders.

“So Avery, what do you have to say?” Master Plo continued. His fingers were interlocked in a posture far too relaxed for the situation, in Avery’s opinion.

She studied the room. She felt a tinge of shame when she saw her own master, Tana Vytuia, sitting amongst the council members who were determining her fate.

Avery lifted her chin and did her best to appear confident in her decision. “Masters, I do not regret my actions. Nor will I ask your forgiveness. You sent me on that mission as a medic. I am training to be a healer. I could not save that trooper, but he deserved to die with dignity. Without pain and fear. In the company of someone who would guide him back to the Living Force. I would do it for any trooper under my care, without hesitation.”

The High Council sat silent for a moment. For how long Avery didn’t know. It felt like ages before anyone spoke.

“Kind and honorable, you are padawan. Strong in the Force, you are. An exceptional healer, you shall be.” Master Yoda smiled at her.

“Master?” The confusion in her voice was heavy but there was a glimmer of hope there too.

“Master Yoda is right. The Council has reviewed the hologram of your actions extensively. You displayed some of the finest qualities of a Jedi. We are proud of you, padawan. Instead of using your Force Healing to fight death, you embraced the peace to come and helped a trooper do the same. It gives us great pleasure to inform you that you have passed the final trial. You are now a Jedi Knight.” Master Windu rose to his feet and tilted his head in a slight bow. Avery stared, eyes like saucers and jaw agape in complete shock. She was convinced she was going to be thrown out, not promoted. She looked around the room at the Masters before her and all but Krell were smiling warmly at her.

It wasn’t until Gree placed a congratulatory hand on her shoulder that she spoke again, “Masters, I can honestly say this was not how I envisioned this going.”

“Neither did I,” she heard Krell grumble as he slowly slunk backward.

“However,” she continued, “I am truly grateful and honored that the Council has deemed me worthy of knighthood. I promise I will uphold the Jedi Code, and humbly request I continue my training to become a Consular and Healer.”

“We look forward to seeing the great things you will achieve. If you wait here, we will discuss your future as a general in the GAR,” Master Windu answered proudly.

A general? In the GAR? Master Windu’s words made her nauseous. She listened as Krell was offered platitudes for his successful mission and small talk was exchanged as they shuffled off to their next assignment. Soon the High Council Chamber had cleared out, leaving Avery standing with Masters Yoda, Windu, and Tana.

“Troubled, your mind is young Jedi,” Master Yoda observed her with compassion.

“Masters. I,” she paused and gathered her courage. “I must ask that you not assign troops to me.”

Master Windu studied her with an air of curiosity, “Alright, why do you not want to lead our troops?”

This was more terrifying than standing up to Krell. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful for what the Council had done, but she couldn’t be a General.

“Masters, I am a healer. I tend wounds, I provide comfort care when those wounds are fatal. I…I fix the damage done to our troops on the battlefield. I provide peace and refuge if only briefly. I can’t be the one responsible for leading them to that fate. It stands in direct contradiction to what I stand for. I humbly request you have me serve in a medical capacity. I’ll be a field medic. I’ll work in the field hospitals. I’ll rotate the hospital frigates. But I can’t be the reason the clones need healing when I am the one who is supposed to do the healing.”

Master Yoda pondered her words, his brow turned in a thoughtful expression, “A compelling argument you make, young one. Agree with you, I do.”

Master Windu smiled, “Very well. You will serve the Republic within the MedCorps.” He turned to her former master, “Now, Tana, will you take Avery to her new quarters? She should get cleaned up and rest before we give her her assignments tomorrow.” Avery dipped into a deep bow, relieved and bubbling with gratitude.

**********

“Avery, something else is on your mind. What is it?” After being her Master for well over 10 years, Avery should have expected she couldn’t hide much from Tana. The wise Jedi had become as close to a mother as possible without having actually birthed her.

Avery didn’t answer immediately, instead listening to their rhythmic footsteps in the empty hallways, wondering how she should vocalize her trepidation. “I’m…worried, Master. About the clones.”

“Worried?”

“I’ve only worked alongside them for a little bit but I’ve gotten to know many of them in that short time. They’re so loyal to a Republic they’ve never even seen. A Republic that doesn’t even consider them citizens or give them rights. They don’t even get names! They name themselves or their brothers name them!” She stopped for a moment remembering Aay’han. She’d chosen his name. He almost died without a name. The thought twisted her stomach. How many unknown troopers were there?

“I used to think the Republic was unquestionably fighting for justice in the galaxy. Now I find myself more and more concerned about the troopers fighting the war. Are we truly fighting for justice when our own soldiers are denied basic rights?”

Her former Master considered her words before answering, “I don’t have those answers for you, I’m afraid. In war things are rarely black and white. You make compelling arguments and, as always, I’m so proud of the compassion and kindness you show to all beings. Convene with the Force, it will provide you the answers you need as you need them.”

“Yes, master,” she sighed. She knew Master Vytuia was right but she wanted her answers now.

The remainder of their walk passed in silence until they arrived at Avery’s new quarters. Tana turned to Avery and hugged her. “Here we are. I am so proud of you Avery. You will continue to learn so much working with Master Vokara Che in the infirmary.”

“Thank you, Master Vytuia.” The thought of no longer being under her Master’s tutelage brought tears to her eyes.

“I think we’ve reached a point where you can just call me Tana, Avery.”

“That will take some getting used to,” Avery mused with a smile. She dipped into one final bow before she walked inside and heaved a heavy sigh. First order of business would be the shedding of her padawan braid. The second would be to climb in the refresher. Third would be meditation. In the silence of her new private room, she thought she could hear a familiar voice call to her through the Force. And so she answered, “I hear you Aay’han. I promise I will help as many of your brothers as I can.”

Ragu List: @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @multi-fan-dom-madness

@msmeredithrose @wings-and-beskar @wizardofrozz @523rdrebel

@littlemissmanga @the-bad-batch-baroness @dickarchivist @eclec-tech

@dreamie411 @cw80831 @eternal-transcience

@heidnspeak @nahoney22 @tlmtwelve @lonewolflupe

@laspicyfresa @reader6898 @bamfahsoka

@crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf because you drew that lovely art of Tana!

The next arc of Doc’s Misadventures! @staycalmandhugaclone continues this masterpiece. Poor Doc, trying to do the right thing in an environment that won’t support it. And being reintroduced to “Jester,” that was so fun! As always, waiting excitedly for more!

#hunter in running shorts! #doc thirsting

Reprocussions

Part (1) of the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Did the first series of cuts to my taglist - you don't reblog or comment, I don't tag - that's how Tumblr works, my dearies.

Warnings: Emotions. That's a warning in itself. Dread, arguing, guilt, regret, feeling overwhelmed. Also a touch of profanity. Also racism style prejudice. Oh, and some Hunter thirst.

WC: 3,874

Mando’a translation

ori’buyce, kih’kovid – all helmet, no head: someone with and overdeveloped sense of authority

Kamino was, at its core, a failed science experiment; what few inhabitants still clinging to life above tumultuous, unforgiving waves doing so purely from a futile denial of the impending ruination already evident in the violence of the oceans that overtook nearly the entirety of the planet’s stormy surface eons prior. That destruction was predestined; a simple consequence of climate, but what befell those inhabitants in the centuries that followed could be blamed on no one but themselves; driven to the edge of extinction not from natural catastrophe but from some ill-conceived need to eliminate traits arbitrarily deemed undesirable, altering the very code of their existence first through selective breeding, and then through artificial splicing until natural reproduction was not only deemed obsolete in their strive toward perfection, but became biologically impossible.

Perfection is the great myth of social naivety, offering aspirations veiled beneath the façade of a motivation that, in truth, results only in the inevitable collapse of will as goals prove eternally beyond reach. This toxic mentality, however, persists far longer than the spark of brilliance crushed beneath its unreachable expectations, but that illusion of perfection is infectious, destined to poison any subjected to its ideals not only with feelings of crippling inadequacy but also in granting false justification for prejudice against those labeled lesser through simple consequence of genetic expression.

I hated how that mentality had seeped into not only so many of the clones they’d created, but into myself as well, tainted by those beliefs not through direct correlation, but from a nearly equally unjust bias toward the clones themselves. Had I never met Hunter and his brothers, I’m not sure I would ever have truly noticed, but, after living with them and witnessing firsthand the cruelty their squad was subjected to because of it, each reg I saw instantly filled me with a distrust that brought with it a bang of guilt. It wasn’t every reg. I knew that. But it was enough to leave me torn between that guilt and the nagging reminder of just how damaging granting them the benefit of the doubt could be.

It was because of that bias that I refused to leave the medbay of the Vigilance for even a moment; not while Hunter was still bedbound and Crosshair needed to make frequent visits to continue monitoring the progress of his eyes. Admittedly, the term ‘bedbound’ was rather fiercely contested… particularly by Hunter, himself.

“No! You’re on med-leave for at least another week!” I was shouting again. “I don’t care if those orders came from the damn Grand Chancellor, himself!”  I’d been doing that a lot lately, whether in response to Hunter’s increasingly frustrated demands to be released or toward the ship’s staff insisting that I let them relieve me for a while. “It’s barely been four kriffing days since you were in hemorrhagic cardiac arrest!” It wasn’t healthy. “You’ve barely even started physical therapy!” I knew it wasn’t healthy.

“Because you won’t let me out of this kriffing bed!” He snarled back.

“Two weeks is the minimum recovery time for an injury like-”

“For a nat-born! Not a clone!” He interrupted. I still couldn’t look at him without seeing how pale his skin had been when I’d found him.

“You died!” The emptiness in those captivating eyes. “I barely managed to bring you back! Any other medic would have given up long before I did!” The terror I felt any time he was out of my sight, that fear that I might miss something critical; I knew it wasn't healthy… but I couldn’t risk seeing him like that again…

“Then get your head out of your shebs before we get do get stuck with some ‘other medic’!” He snapped, and my entire body froze with a sudden chill, muscles locked as the air stilled in my lungs. “You give them reason to think you can’t be objective with us, then there won’t be a damn thing I can say to keep some ori’buyce, kih’kovid from pulling you.” It wasn’t a threat. Despite how his voice dropped into that frightful growl, I knew it wasn’t a threat. He was begging me.

My teeth ground together, nostrils flared with barely controlled, shallow breaths. I said nothing as I turned and left. No words would come to me, nor did I have any confidence in my ability to force them past taut lips even if they did. I told myself it was rage that left my ears ringing, that sent a nauseating tingle dancing beneath my skin and prickling my fingertips, but I knew it was nothing so kind as that, nor so simple.

I thought of that night hidden away with Tech in the cockpit, how he’d teased me for admitting that I had nothing beyond him and his brothers; what that would leave me with if I was ripped away from them. Sick… Maker, I was going to be sick…

Clones did heal faster than nat-borns… but something about forcing them back into a war zone after so little time to recover… It wasn't fair… In so many aspects of life, clones were treated and viewed as lesser; granted fewer rights, spared little consideration for basic needs or comforts, awarded no thought toward self-autonomy… Forcing myself to adhere to those unjust standards ground against the very core of my being… but Hunter was right… If I pushed too far, if I was called out and removed, they'd be subjected to those same rules with far less compassion.

Despite the size of the Star Destroyer, it seemed impossible to find a breath of solitude, constantly dodging patrols or maintenance crew or janitorial workers; so, I walked. I’d barely glanced at the mission brief before lashing out, balking at the departure date looming in a mere three days, but it seemed a shockingly straightforward reconnaissance objective: confirm the presence of a droid factory that had supposedly just begun construction, and, if the reports were correct, plant enough explosives to level it before the thing could become a threat. Simple…

It wasn’t hunger that drew me toward the mess hall. I knew they’d be there, most of them, at least, and, though I wasn’t ready to actually speak with them, emotions still too raw to even feign some appearance of calm, I needed to see them. Tech’s arm no longer needed the support and protection of the sling, a fact he took advantage of before I’d properly cleared him, and he’d assured me that he’d tended both Echo’s shoulder and Wrecker’s knee while my attention was focused on Hunter and Crosshair, a kindness that only deepened my own growing sense of inadequacy even as I’d forced myself to offer my gratitude.

In the sea of nearly identical faces, my men screamed their defiance both through stature and in the striking contrast of their darkened armor amidst the white and gold of the 212th. It was because of that contrast that I was surprised to note an additional figure beside them; beside Wrecker. He dwarfed the man, an illusion that was only further accentuate by Crosshair and Tech's towering frames seated just across from them. Still, I found myself tensing, shoulders drawing back as my teeth ground, lips just hinting at a scowl, but I froze before taking that first step toward them. Smiling… Wrecker was smiling.

While I couldn't see their expressions from where I stood, Crosshair had his chin nestled atop his palm, elbow lazily hiked up on the table, an air of impatience screaming from how his head hung down toward a shoulder, more resigned than annoyed, and Tech appeared to actually be just as engaged with the reg as Wrecker. That guilt returned in force. They were talking; laughing… and I’d been so ready to assume the worst…

I studied them for a moment longer, gaze lingering on the gleeful face of the reg as I absently noted the faint scar bisecting one of his eyebrows. This wasn’t me… This neurotic mess, jumping to respond with violence before even granting a chance to speak… That man was no different than the troopers Emmy gave her life trying to help… His broad grin only twisted that bitter taste of shame and regret deeper into my chest, tightening some unseeable noose. It felt like something was about to snap, muscles locked so taut they threatened to shake.

Air fleeing me in a sharp huff, I turned on my heel and all but fled, boots clicking loudly against the harsh metal below in rushed strides just shy of running. Cody once warned me of how traumatic events could alter the dynamic of a group. I wondered, suddenly, why he knew that. It felt odd to think that the Kaminoans might have chosen to include such concepts in whatever glimpses of psychology they might have included in their training programs, but his words had held none of the hesitation of one speaking only through thin fragments of forced studies, the details of which had long since been forgotten. I wouldn’t doubt that his General was surely well versed in such things, but the Commander’s words held a weight far greater than what might be found through secondhand allusion. Had he seen the consequences of some similar horror? Watched the fallout helpless to stop it? What would he say to this? How might he judge the depth of my connection – my dependency – to these men? How quickly might he replace me?

I knew Hunter was right. There was a balance between what care I was allowed to give and the merciless demands of the GAR, and if I faltered too far in either direction, I’d lose them…

Hunter’s eyes snapped up as I reentered the room, body tensing where he stood just a few careful steps from his bed, and I watched that initial panic of being caught flare into a defensive glare, but I didn’t allow myself to sink back into what fears had fueled my earlier outbursts rebuking his every attempt to push himself; I didn’t allow myself the freedom of even acknowledging that fear, that whisper of doubt that I was still missing something; I couldn’t.

“I’m ordering a stress test.” I stated before he could bark out whatever argument clearly churned behind taut lips. Instantly, that tension fled him, powerful shoulders sinking beneath a hesitation that only further emphasized how apparently unreasonable he’d believed me to be, and I had to let my gaze fall to the now empty bed beside him to keep that realization from breaking me.

 “If the scars hold and you don’t start bleeding out again, I’ll clear you for duty.” I didn’t look at him as I said it, and the silence that followed was anything but kind. I had to keep myself from fidgeting, jaw ground.

“… Doc…” The quiet sympathy in his voice only pulled me nearer to the edge of breaking. Wrenching a quick, deep breath into my lungs, I snatched my datapad and rapidly typed in the order before I could talk myself out of it.

“You deserve better than this…” I barely whispered it, rage and despair twisting through the words. He called my name, and my throat seized against the ball of tears straining to escape.

“I'll get you some clothes.” I said stiffly and, before he could respond, before he could further justify the cruel reasoning behind his rushed return to the battlefield or offer some softly murmured reassurance that I couldn't risk letting myself believe, I turned away, steps once again tapping loudly on the hard floors. Three days… we had only three days before being forced to fight again... It was wrong…

I’d brought him a comfortable shirt along with his shorts for the stress test. He elected not to wear it. Whether that choice stemmed from a hope to flaunt how quickly his wounds were healing or something far less innocent, I wouldn't let myself think too deeply on it - straining to keep my gaze on the datapad in my hand instead than the wealth of power illustrated by his every stride.

Hunter’s hair was tied up in a messy bun rather than loosely held back by that faded bandana, revealing elegant lines of muscle sweeping from his thick neck down to broad shoulders honed to frightful perfection from years of ruthless fighting, from racing across battlefields with heavy weaponry held at the ready, from driving fist and blade alike through enemies made of flesh and metal and every combination in between. He’d gained nearly ten kilograms in the time I’d been with them, and that boon had only added to the lethal effigy of raw power before me; added to the very real danger he represented. That power scared me, once… but that was a long time ago.

“Pain level? Say anything less than three and I’ll throw a damn weight vest on you.” I threatened, speaking as though I wasn’t fighting to keep my gaze from following every drop of sweat as they slid down the valleys carved between abs accentuated by dark, coarse hair that narrowed in such a cruel invitation between the V is his hips before vanishing beneath the waistline of his shorts.

“Three.” I could hear his smirk, jaw tensing against the way my lips threatened to pull into a grin of my own even as I pointedly rolled my eyes at him.

“Any difficulty breathing? Stiffness or pressure or-”

“Pretty sure one of those fancy scanners would have started yelling at me if my lung was collapsing again.” He drawled, turning toward me with a knowing look. He’d been running for nearly an hour, and the man was barely winded… Still, I couldn’t silence that fear… that certainty that there was something…

“Alright…” I finally murmured, hand reluctantly reaching out to flutter over the controls. His attention didn’t waver as he gradually slowed to a stop, chest swelling with barely quickened breaths. There was a sense of defeat sown deeply through that single word that forbade me from meeting his eyes for a long moment, studying the readout of his vitals one last time before making myself look at him. “If anything feels off – if the pain gets worse or you feel short of breath, I swear to the Force, Hunter, you need to tell me.” It was supposed to be an order, but the desperation drowning me left it anything but, and the softness in the way he sighed my name robbed me of even a sliver of denial that he hadn’t noticed as he slowly crossed the room.

“I will.” He could have mocked me; could have dismissed my fears with overly confident boasts and promises, but he didn’t, and that granted a far greater comfort that he could possibly know… Still…

“I don’t like this…” I barely whispered it, finally letting the weight of that terrible dread tug at the corners of my lips, shoulders sinking with a helplessness neither of us had any hope of fixing.

“I know.” He murmured. For just a moment, his shoulder tensed, arm just beginning to move before he forced it still, and I mourned the loss of that touch he hadn't allowed himself to give, the warmth of his hand stolen from me for fear of wandering eyes and over-eager rumors.

My gaze fell, lingering for just a moment on that hand, on the ridges of veins and spiderwebs of scars, on the memory of the dizzying contrast between the roughness of calluses stretching across palm and fingertips alike, and how gentle I knew his touch to be.

“Someone stays with you.” That, at least, carried some hint of authority as I drew a shaky breath before looking back up at him. “I don't care what happens, someone stays with you at all times.” The patches of bare skin where the electrodes had gone refused to let me forget how still he’d been between those horrid moments when his body had seized beneath the flood of electricity meant to restart his heart. The bruising had already begun fading from his chest, but I’d never be able to forget how stark the outline of my palms had looked, how dark the mottled purples and red were in those hours after bringing him back…

He let out a quiet huff at my order, head tilting down slightly to better hold my gaze.

“Yes, ma’am.” My lips pursed slightly at that teasing lilt, and I had to fight back the threat of heat spreading up my neck at the low rumble of his voice.

Drawing a deep breath, I finally turned away from him, attention falling back to my datapad to clear him before I could find some excuse not to.

“And you’re wearing a chest brace.” I added, cheeks burning at the quiet chuckle it drew from him.

“Alright.” He hummed through that little smirk that sent my heart racing, brow hitching slightly. “Anything else?” My jaw jut forward against the smile toying with the edge of my own lips.

“Give me a sec, and I’ll think of something.” I shot back, arms crossing my chest with a heatless glare, but he only responded with another soft laugh.

 The following day passed in a blur; endless paperwork to finish, a shocking amount of supplies to restock, as well as overseeing what precious few hours of physical therapy I could force each of them through before we were scheduled to leave. Nearly each of them, at least. Wrecker's knee had some lingering stiffness, but that faded with minor warmups. Tech's arm was still notably weak, but he assured me he'd already tested for nerve damage, and I had no reason to doubt him, resigned to merely monitor it over the coming weeks. Crosshair had spent much of the time aboard the massive flagship in their gun range, and he had no qualms with proving just how thoroughly his eyes had healed. But Echo… Echo had vanished under the guise of “requisitioning" materials to finish building his new legs, an occasional message our only reassurance that he was still onboard.

I shouldn't have been surprised to note the missing supplies during my final check of the Marauder's medbay, but the little pang of disappointment was there regardless. The night cycle had nearly begun, and the thought of sinking in-between warm sheets and warmer arms taunted me as I reluctantly noted the missing bacta and bandages, and started wearily back to the hanger's storage room, empty box cocked against my hip.

Night had little meaning in space. It was a label meant only to grant some illusion of familiarity; a place-keeper for the sake of simplicity despite the fact that “night" had a thousand different meanings on a thousand different planets. What days or weeks spent in the in-between of hyperspace were usually used to gradually adjust perception to match the cycle of one’s destination.

The Vigilance, however, had no destination. If she neared a planet, it was for the sake of a brutal onslaught void of any consideration toward night and day. Men died in the darkness just as easily as in the light. So the Vigilance rotated between an imagined night and day solely because such a thing was expected, but, in truth, it made no difference beyond a simple shift change to those sentenced to remain in that liminal existence. Solders still marched through halls on patrol amidst maintenance crews and cleaner bots and all manner of workers striving to keep the vessel ready to fight at a moment's notice, and they spared me little consideration as I wove between them, just another cog churning within the Republic’s war.

“It was a trick question.” My attention snapped up, surprised to find a clone standing a few meters away just within the door of the supply room, a tentative smile on his youthful face. I nearly glanced behind me, but there was no mistaking who he was speaking to.

“I… didn’t ask a question.” I replied hesitantly, mind struggling to make sense of the odd interaction as I studied the man before me. His left brow was split from some barely visible scar, and his nose was ever so slightly askew, but his eyes were free of that haunted distance that had become far too common among the more war-hardened soldiers.

“Droid poppers.” He said as though that might explain everything. A moment later, I finally realized that it did, eyes widening, and his lips pulled into a broad grin, shoulders shaking with the faintest hint of laughter. My mouth opened, but I was too surprised to fathom a response.

“Jester.” He offered stealing a few slow steps closer., and I couldn’t quite hide the wince, but he only laughed harder.

“Feel like I might owe you an apology for that.” I offered with a sympathetic chuckle.

“Well, I did have a couple more… exciting names I would have preferred, but…” he shrugged, “I kind of earned it.” The ease of his aloofness was a stark balm to the heaviness of the past several days, and I readily welcomed that lightness with a smile of my own.

“I don’t think that was a trick question.” I belatedly retorted, instantly earning an animated eyeroll.

“But it was definitely meant to make me look like a damn fool.” I couldn’t help but snicker, nose scrunching with a knowing smirk.

“Just be glad I sent you to Wrecker instead of Tech.” He let out a heavy huff at my response.

“Tech was there.” He stated flatly, and I let out an unapologetic snort. “I think he’s going to try to make my entire batch repeat basic chemistry…”

“But now you know how to make an incendiary grenade from spare parts.” I teased. His shoulders dropped, brows furrowing above a fond glare.

“Yeah. Several ways, in fact.” He drawled, earning another bout of laughter from me.

“He’s… really nice.” Jester’s voice fell into a near whispered, expression softening with a touch of remorse.

“Yeah,” I murmured quietly, “He really is… They all are.” I added, but the skeptical look he shot me drew a knowing chuckle even as I tried to suppress it. “They are.” I pressed. “Just… need to earn it, first.” His gaze fell at that, jaw shifting stiffly as that remorse grew.

“I tried to apologize… He wouldn’t even let me finish.”

“Words… don’t really matter much to him.” I explained gently. “You reached out… And since Crosshair was there and you don’t have any black eyes, I’m assuming you did it respectfully.” He let out a quiet huff.

“Thanks.” He whispered after a brief moment of silence. I didn’t have to wait long before he continued. “I needed some sense knocked into me… would have preferred you do it in a less embarrassing way, but…” His eyes rose back to meet mine. “Thanks.”

“Let’s not make a habit of it.” I replied, words quiet before drawing a deep breath and glancing back at the still empty crate. “You got out of it last time, but, since you’re here, how about you help me pack for our next mission?” That beaming smile instantly returned to his lips as he eagerly started toward me.

Click here or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Click here for my Masterlist.

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @starqueensthings @manofworm @merkitty49 @chopper-base @pb-jellybeans @rosechi @dangraccoon @mooncommlink @delialeigh @iabrokengirl @arcsimper5 @rndmpeep @narcissa-of-kaas @buniby @amorfista @heidnspeak @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @captainrex89 @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter @littlefeatherr @babyscilence @skellymom @youreababboon @ichimatsu-gal @cactus5539 @nothin-toseehere @gfmann64 @the-jedi-jamboree @altered-delta

I recently revisited this story from @freesia-writes and was delighted. Again. Jesse written as “JESSE!” and then ‘jesse’ as more of him was revealed. Funny and heartfelt.

#jesse loves pookie #ptsd

Pets4Vets: Jesse (1/4)

Chapter 1 of 4 - Word Count: 3.2k - Jesse x Fem Reader Master List

“Thanks for dinner,” she said quietly, shifting her eyes from her plate to his and crossing one arm across herself to rub the outside of the other. 

“Yeah baby,” Jesse purred with a cocky grin. “I mean, I got the dinner but you brought the dessert.”

“Huh?”

“You’re a treat,” he said with a wag of his eyebrows. “Want to take the party back to your place?”

“Oh, um. I’ve got to work early, so I think that’s all I’ve got time for now. But thanks again,” she offered, trying to mask the cringe on her face with a disingenuous smile. 

“Alright, your loss… heheh…”

“Yeah…”

They made their way to the door of the restaurant, Jesse holding it open for her as she shuffled awkwardly past him. She hesitated on the sidewalk, turning back to face him with that same feeble grin. Another thanks for dinner. An offer to walk her home. Declined. A question about another date. After a long, uneasy pause, that was also declined.

Jesse kept up his best face, chest puffed and confidence set firmly in place, until she disappeared around the corner, then he slumped, turning to begin his own walk home. A glance at the chrono reminded him that he wasn’t allowed back in the apartment he shared with Kix for another hour and a half… The cramped flat they rented together didn’t allow for much privacy, and his roommate had been excited to take advantage of the alone time with his partner from Right to Love, a matchmaking service for clones wanting to live as freely as they were able since the war had ended and they were released from service. 

The endless flashing lights of the Coruscant streets were oppressively bright as he plodded aimlessly, unsure of where to go. A deep sense of resentment was growing within, and he didn’t realize he was muttering under his breath until a few strange looks from passersby clued him in. Many of his brothers had found immediate success with Right to Love, now experiencing the joys of a relationship in ways they’d never thought possible when they’d been nothing more than property their entire lives. And yet here he was, having tried to connect with five different people now, each one entirely put off by the end of the first date. His assigned case manager at Right to Love had assured him that matches weren’t always perfect the first time around, and sometimes the process took a little longer to ensure the ideal fit. 

Doubt was growing in the pit of his stomach as he walked. What was it about him that was getting in the way? He was throwing himself wholeheartedly into this pursuit, and yet each attempt seemed to be less encouraging than the last. The resentment began to coil in his chest, heating up into anger, and he leaned into it. Anger was familiar. Anger, he could deal with. It made him feel powerful and in control, pushing aside any tendrils of fear or sadness that lay at its core. A sign up his head caught his eye, and he turned abruptly to barge through the door. 

Music thumped inside, the small crowd on the dance floor moving as one to the beat, and he jostled his way around the edge to find a seat at the bar. He waited for a while, watching the bartender help customer after customer, including those that had arrived after him. When the man began polishing some glasses, Jesse finally called out, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Can I get some service here?”

The bartender slowly finished wiping his glass, sidling down to the end and resting his palms on the counter with no attempt to hide the disdain on his face. 

“Did your giant face tattoo block you from seeing the sign on the door?” he drawled. “No clones. Go back to your own district.”

“You’re living in the past,” Jesse growled, the snake in his chest twisting and hissing. “Credits are credits. What does it matter who they come from?” 

“Just get out,” exhorted a Zabrak on the stool beside him who’d had his back firmly turned to him from the start. “Before we make you.”

He’d had enough.

“Go ahead and try,” he snarled, smacking a fist on the counter and rising to his feet. The Zabrak was in his face immediately, flanked by a nat-born and a Weequay who looked far too excited to throw hands. 

“Know your place,” the nat-born taunted, leaping forward to throw a swing, which Jesse dodged and countered with one of his own, sinking a fist into the man’s stomach and earning a satisfying grunt of pain. The brawl exploded, quickly changing the three-on-one situation into an entire mob set on teaching the clone a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. The ARC trooper held his own, ducking and swinging, using leverage to toss one body into another, but the blows were coming from every direction. A foot to the back of his knee knocked him off balance, right into someone else’s fist.

The next thing he knew, he was unceremoniously thrown onto the sidewalk among a litany of curses and insults, and he scrambled to his feet, body throbbing with numerous bruises from the punches and kicks that had landed as he’d tried to hold them all off. His nose was bleeding, and he wiped it on his sleeve before pinching it hard, stalking toward his building in a tornado of rage. 

He sat outside on the stoop for the remaining hour, ruminating on the sheer injustice of it all. But eventually, the hot indignation quieted, and in the stillness, he fought to stuff down the disappointment that whispered judgment and failure in its place. 

* * * 

“Come on, give it a try.” Kix straightened his scrubs as Jesse slouched against his bedroom doorway. “It’ll be a different dynamic. Might be helpful.”

“I don’t need help,” Jesse scoffed, folding his arms across his broad chest. 

“I know,” Kix affirmed quickly, “But the food carts in the square are delicious. So bring your next date and just come along for that.” He smoothed a hand over his neatly-cut hair and tilted his head at his mirror, checking that the first few letters of his head tattoo were hidden as much as possible by his dark locks. The medical clinic he worked at had some fairly strict rules around personal appearance, and considering how difficult it was to find clone-friendly jobs, no matter how qualified they were, he wasn’t about to risk losing his placement over something as trivial as that. 

“Fine,” Jesse huffed. “I’m doing this for the ronto wraps, you know.”

Kix grinned, clapping him on the back and squeezing his shoulder as he headed for the front door. “You’ve been doing too much upper-body, vod. Have a leg day.”

“Hah. Go clean some crusty old geezers, di’kut.”

“Oh please. I’m saving lives out there,” Kix threw over his shoulder as the door closed behind him. Jesse sighed. That did seem like a much better purpose than his own job as a personal trainer at a local gym, where most of his clients were flaky hopefuls who wanted to get into shape without putting in the time and work that it required. It paid well enough, though, and gave him an outlet for a sense of purpose as well as a place to exercise. If he were honest, he’d hoped he’d meet someone there, figuring they’d be more aligned with his interests and lifestyle, but after months upon months of dismal prospects, he’d gone ahead and applied at Right to Love. He sighed, turning to rummage in the cooling chamber until it was time for work.

* * * 

Days of work and leisure blended together, and Jesse found himself spending more time at the gym, adding cardio sessions on top of his bodybuilding regimen as a way to blow off steam. He finally got another match from Right to Love and agreed to go on the double date with Kix and his partner, laboring a disproportionate amount of time over what to wear. He didn’t want to admit it, but with each date he felt increasingly desperate. Desperate to prove that there wasn’t something wrong with him. Desperate to feel like he had access to the whole variety of options for a “normal” life. Desperate to enjoy the care, intimacy, and connection that some of his brothers had found. 

He straightened the long-sleeved henley shirt and rolled up the sleeves a little. Ladies loved the forearms, right? Slipping a wallet into his back pocket, he checked his reflection one last time and ventured into the living room where Kix was waiting for him. 

“Here goes nothing,” he grumbled. 

“That’s the spirit,” Kix nodded sagely, a fond smirk on his face.

The square had a weekly event where all the food carts in the vicinity would gather to offer their delectable delicacies, and there really was something for everyone, making it a very popular attraction. Jesse swaggered beside his date, Kix and his partner bringing up the rear, and shared stories of valor and bravery as she nodded and made small sounds of agreement here and there. The four of them had shared some snacks from a variety of vendors and were now walking it off along the city streets. 

Coming to a somewhat scenic overlook of a steep dropoff with many Coruscant levels stretching down below, the four of them sat on a couple of benches. Kix stretched his arm across his partner’s shoulders, and they nestled into his side with an affectionate gaze. Jesse shifted awkwardly beside his date, a beautiful redhead that made his mouth go dry when he tried to talk. Yet he’d pushed past it with bravado and confidence, he felt simultaneously certain and completely unsure of her interest. Kix was murmuring in his date’s ear, bringing a demure smile to their face, and Jesse turned to look at the redhead beside him. 

“So… You mentioned some adventures in the jungle… Did I tell you about our campaign on Felucia?” he asked, launching into the story before she was able to respond. He wove an exhilarating tale of their encounter with both Separatist forces and the Commerce Guild, finishing with a flourish and grinning proudly. 

“Sounds like the war was wild,” she offered.

“You’re karking right it was,” he laughed, attempting to slip his arm around her shoulder as well, but she stood up quickly. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I… I’m gonna go.” 

Jesse watched her leave, speechless, then was flooded with embarrassment as he felt the eyes of Kix and his partner on his back. He slowly turned to face them, and the empathetic looks on their faces added insult to the injury. 

“See you at home,” he muttered to his brother, nodding to Kix’s partner and stuffing his hands in his pockets as he trudged back to their apartment. Kix watched him for a long time, nodding at the murmured condolences from his partner, who was incredibly kind and gentle, both admiring and strong in their own right, and he was regularly blown away at the fact that he’d been able to find them. Their compassion only served to deepen his own hope that his brother could find whatever it was he was looking for. 

* * * 

The next morning, a much-needed day off of work for both of them, Jesse was sprawled on the couch with a lazy hand resting on the steaming mug of caf on the nearby side table. Kix was scrambling some eggs in the kitchen, casting the occasional glance over the counter at his brother’s dejected slump. He was torn; Jesse was notoriously stubborn, but Kix also knew him better than most anyone else, and if he kept continuing in the same pattern, he would likely keep getting the same result. He flipped the eggs one more time and turned off the burner, scattering some shredded cheese over the top of them and putting a lid over the pan to melt it all together. 

“You… uh… seemed different last night,” he ventured, picking up his own caf, now mostly cold, and sitting in the armchair across from the downcast clone. 

“Mmm,” was the only response. 

“Does it always go that way?”

“Mmm.”

“What’s… What’s with the swagger stuff?” Kix asked, abandoning the subtlety. Jesse cast a hard look at him, but he caught the quickly-concealed flicker of hurt beneath the tattooed face.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t really seem like you. Did you answer the questionnaire honestly?”

“Yes!” Jesse said defensively, furrowing his brow.

“Well… then that might be why the dates aren’t going so well, if they’re expecting you to act… normal. You’re smart and pretty down-to-earth most of the time. Last night it felt more like you were trying to prove yourself somehow.”

His words stung, and Jesse balked at the feeling of being perceived so accurately. But a sense of resignation had settled in again, and he shrugged, attempting a nonchalant facade. 

“I’m just gonna get a pet. That’ll have to lo–... to put up with me, right?”

“Sure,” Kix sighed. “I’ve heard good things about P4V.”

“Look, di’kut, I know I can’t even get a second date, let alone some bedroom action, but I don’t think I have the credits for a sex worker… At least not a good one.”

“Classy as always,” Kix rolled his eyes. “It’s not a brothel, it’s called Pets 4 Vets. They have a variety of service animals to help with the difficult aspects of adjusting to civilian life.”

“I want a good-sized Massiff, not some fluffy little Loth-rat to lick me when I have ‘big feelings’,” Jesse snorted. 

“Kriff, you are thick sometimes.”

“Just these thighs.”

“Right. Just try it.”

“We’ll see.”

* * * 

You stroked a hand down the bogling's back, running fingers along the soft fur of its fluffy tail. It leaned into your touch with a contented noise, and you closed the cage behind it, watching it begin delicately eating its food before moving to the next kennel. You’d been working at Pets 4 Vets for a while now, and you felt thoroughly at home amid a great group of coworkers and an even better assortment of animals from every corner of the galaxy. They were all either in the process or finished with their training to be emotional support animals for the veterans who had served the Republic so well. You’d been a little unsure around the clones at first, not having spent any time with them before this, but they’d grown on you quite a bit and you’d been amazed at the complexity and individuality of each one. You’d also developed a knack for pairing them with animals, although it still took a few tries at times. 

“Good morning, tookas,” you said warmly as you slid the food bowl into the next crate, watching the two loth-cats eye it lazily from where they were curled around each other in the corner. They were a bonded pair, and last summer they had surprised the entire staff with a full litter of the most adorable babies you’d ever seen, who had since grown and been placed into loving homes. None of you had been too eager to see the parents leave, however, and it just so happened that none of the troopers so far had been the ideal match for them. The two of them roamed the clinic during the day, curling up near computer terminals or gracing guests in the lobby with their tails high in the air. At night, all the animals were tucked into their cozy kennels until morning, when they’d be fed and let out into their various programs for the day. Some had hours of training, others enjoyed free time inside or out, and some simply spent as much time as possible shadowing the clinic staff. 

“I wish I got breakfast in bed,” you murmured as you closed their door, watching the loth-cats yawn and nuzzle one another. You felt a deep sense of longing in your chest, and moved to the next cage to try to keep your mind from continuing on its current trajectory. But it was a lost cause. “Wish I had someone to wake up next to as well,” you continued. The dating scene hadn’t been kind to you, and if you were honest, you’d pretty much given up. Your friends urged you to keep the dream alive, to go on double dates with them and to meet the various eligible bachelors they knew, but nothing felt like a good fit. You assumed the problem was with you. And that was alright. You were happy enough on your own…you said. The clinic staff was a tightly-knit group, for the most part, and you authentically loved the animals. You felt fulfilled by the unconditional love you shared with each one, and you were so proud at the growth you got to witness as they went through training. 

The horde was fed, each one was released to its daily duty, and you began to clean all of the kennels, wondering if you should take your friend up on her offer to check out 79s. It felt completely out of your comfort zone, however. Not because of the clones, but you just generally weren’t a fan of loud, raucous environments, and you weren’t much of a drinker… So it didn’t seem like a very attractive prospect. As much as you were mocked for it, you weren’t really keen on one night stands, nor were you good at “keeping it casual”. You wanted a relationship with depth and longevity. Sometimes you wondered if the taunts about you were correct, that you had in fact watched too many cheesy holofilms and now had an unrealistic view of romance. 

Whatever.

A few hours of cleaning were followed by an hour or so at your computer, reviewing and categorizing the new applications. You didn’t realize you’d been completely hunched the entire time, your back rounded as you tapped away at the keys, and would have remained blissfully unaware if the receptionist hadn’t commented on it as soon as she popped in. 

“Geez, you look like a shrimp,” she laughed, dropping a data card on your desk. 

“You’re a bit of a cod yourself,” you teased, and she giggled, swatting your arm. “What’s this?”

“A new app. I was gonna bring him back here in person but he said he had lots of ‘big important stuff’ to do.” She rolled her eyes. “Quite the cocky one. He didn’t want to go through the interview process because he ‘knew what he wanted and it was a big dog’.” A chuckle followed the words as they both nodded. They were familiar with the type.

“Did you tell him he has to do an interview if he wants anything at all?”

“Yup. Said you’d contact him.”

“Lucky me.”

“Thought you might like a challenge. It’s been quiet for you lately,” she grinned.

“Considerate as always,” you smiled right back. 

“Have some fun with him. He could use someone taking him down a peg or two. Although I thought I could see the remnant of a black eye, so maybe someone already tried. He’s a big boy, too.” A suggestive wink.

“Oh boy. Can’t wait.”

Next Chapter

Tag List: @littlefeatherr @foreverdaydreaming1 @littlemissbshine @dreamie411 @skellymom

@1vlouds @coraex @secondaryrealm @crosshairscrustysock @baddest-batchers

@hellhound5925 @thew0nderer2342 @cloneloverrrrr @kimiheartblade @mooncommlink

@stardusthuntress @starstofillmydream @dhawerdaverd @thiswitchloves9904 @waytoooldforthis78

@eternal-transcience @cw80831 @adh-d2 @ezras-left-thumb @trixie2023

@sleepycreativewriter @nonsenseandm3mes @mlichaelm @mary-on-the-contrary @meagmcc12

@roam-rs @starsaboveclones @lightwise @solstraalaa @chishiyas-favorite57

@hipwell @lamiliani @catoo @smw-on-kamino @moonstrider9904

@padawancat97 @yve-barr @lucyysthings @flowered-bicycles @maddiedrmr

@techhasmjolnir @spicy-clones @youreababboon @anything-forourmoony @myname-whatareyouacop

Click here to join or leave the tag list. OR, even better, message me for the link to my tag list discord server, where I post only links to new works!

Also, I can only have 50 people tagged in one post, so that's the limit for the tag list. If you're not reblogging and engaging, I'm gonna have to scoot you off to make room for others. ❤️