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caerulea-divilu · 4 months

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Blumfruit & Cheer

This fic is for @multi-fan-dom-madness as part of the @cloneficgiftexchange Life Day Fic Exchange!

Hunter x Reader

Summary: Unfortunately, the tree you made out of a broom, some spatulas and a ladle doesn't take away the homesick feeling creeping through your veins.

Prompts: Not exactly a mistletoe story, but a bit of pining, "It's always been you", sprinkles of new friendship, and some kindness for the holidays.

Word Count: 3392 | AO3 Link

I seem to have an issue that when I go to edit a fic, it doubles in size, but I enjoyed writing this and couldn't help myself.

Also, also, I seem to always lean toward Hunter and a garden theme.

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Standing in your cozy little apartment, you place your hands on your hips with a heavy sigh.

Life Day is particularly difficult this year. Oh, you love tending to the green houses here on Kamino—that’s not even a question—but without friends and family there doesn’t seem to be anything special about the season. You could do with a bit more cheer, a few cookies, some warm cocoa, and fuzzy socks.

The one positive you can see is there won’t be any Life Day holophotos with updates from acquaintances that haven’t spoken to you in years—they only seem to reach out now to gloat about perfect lives.

Still, you tried to be festive. Unfortunately, this tree made of a broom, a few spatulas, and topped with a ladle just can’t compete with the real thing.

Regardless, it’ll have to do.

Kamino has deemed growing even one of those trees useless and you’re not about to cut down one of your fruit trees to ease your homesick feeling. On that note, though, half the time you’re surprised by what they deem important to the greenhouses. You’ve gotten plenty of plants from all over the galaxy and that should make you thrilled. You’re allowed to play with germination and are working to create several new species so perhaps that’s your Life Day gift from Kamino.

Except that doesn’t remove the emptiness from inside.

Neither does the sock hanging limply from the bottom of your counter nor the wire strung with colored flimsy around the corners of your room.

With another sigh, you cast a mournful glance at the tree and make your way to the greenhouses.

The smell of fresh soil greets you as does the perfect climate. Not too cold like the icy feeling outside, and not too warm like you’ve been cast into a desert wasteland. This feels like home, making you wonder if the Kaminoans would mind your bed and sofa taking up space so you could live here instead.

As you move towards your newest patch of life, you’re delighted to see Master Ti already tending to your little sprouts. With the entire clone operation to oversee, you’re touched to find she takes one day a week—if possible—to spend with you in your haven.

After a kind greeting, your fingers eagerly sink into the soft, fluffy soil as you tend to your tiny ones.

“These are beautiful,” she tells you, a delight in her soft smile you’ve never seen from anyone before.

The look makes your heart sing, and you swear you could float. No one ever acknowledges your accomplishments nor gives such a high praise. A cacophony of emotions flow through your body before embarrassment floods through leaving you to stutter a response. “I-I-Uh…Uhm. Th-Than…Sure.”

Oh, if you could bury yourself in the soil and become plant food.

The Jedi gives an encouraging chuckle, easing the heat from your cheeks and you both look up as the door slides open revealing a soldier.

Confusion settles over your shoulders like a heavy cloak. You met Hunter two night ago when he caught you singing to your trees—another moment you could have buried yourself in the soft soil and let your plants have you. How or why he decided to meander through your gardens, you’re not sure, and…

You’re not sure about his presence today.

Greeting the two of you, he draws a slightly deeper breath. “Uh, may I be of any assistance?”

No, you think because you have it under control. Between Master Ti and the Kaminoans, your little operation here is running like clockwork—despite you working for most of the clock.

With another smile that slightly wrinkles her nose, Master Ti looks over at you. “Any suggestions?”

Giving a slight shrug, you glance over your shoulder to a small grove of meiloorun trees. “I’d appreciate it if you could gently rake the soil around their trunks.”

“Right away,” he replies.

“Rakes are in the tool shed located at the back of the facility,” Master Ti calls out before turning back to you. “Accepting help means getting to bed earlier.”

You scoff at that. “Doubtful anyone is going to sing to my trees.”

She chuckles, a charming bell-like sound. “It could free you up to spend more time singing to your creations.”

However true that might be, it would also free you up to the homesick feeling digging its roots deep into your heart. The tendrils spread and weave through your nervous system like a plague. What you wouldn’t give to know how to pull that root system out in its entirety.

“I imagine this Life Day is difficult.”

Scratching your forehead, you then attempt to brush off the dirt smudged there. “This is my first holiday without…anyone. I can manage without those holopics, but not having family is a bit more…challenging than I imagined it would be.”

Pausing her gardening, those dark eyes full of concern and care meet yours. “I could speak with the Kaminoans about a holiday off world.”

You’re quick to dismiss the suggestion with a shake of your head. “It’s fine. I know what I signed up for. I wouldn’t want to leave all of this.”

Though the thought twists your stomach, and you wonder just how well a Jedi can read your emotions.

Returning to a new patch of life, she begins working the soil there. “Have you put up decorations?”

You give a humorless chuckle as you run a finger over the little green leaves. “A mop for a tree.”

The Jedi burst into a fit of giggles. “A mop?”

“It even has spatula branches and a ladle for a tree topper.”

“Does the kitchen know of your thievery?”

Grinning, you’re quick to shake your head. “No. I imagine they wouldn’t be thrilled, but they can have it back after I’m through. I also have wiring with colored flimsi in replace of lights and a sock on the counter trying its best to be a stocking. If questioned, I would hope someone could understand.”

When you return to your apartment that night, you freeze in the middle of your living room. Heart sinking to the bottom of an abyss, the wires you painstakingly hung are gone from your ceiling. Your sad little sock has gone missing and the mop-mess of a tree in the corner has vanished. With disappointment making a home in your chest, you shower before slamming your face into your pillow for the night.

The oddity comes in the morning when you find all your caf has been replaced with cocoa.

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“Everything was gone,” you lament to the mujas while pruning their vibrant green leaves. It isn’t quite time for red berries to spring forth, but you’re eager to taste them when they do. “I don’t understand. Who on Kamino would break into my apartment and steal my—well, borrowed supplies. I was going to return them. Honest. Right after the holidays were over. Is one broom that important?”

You let out a frustrated sigh and clip away at a mangled branch.

“That’s true, I suppose,” you tell the bush before setting down your clippers in favor of a spray bottle. “I don’t think Ninety-nine would’ve taken them back, though. He let me borrow the mop.”

As you mist the branches with a secret, natural mixture you created, a chuckle breaks through your lips. “I’m not certain anyone other than Master Ti even knows what Life Day is, so that’s doubtful. It’s not like a Kaminoan or a soldier is going to be helpful.”

“You sing and talk to them?”

Gasping, the bottle slips from your fingers and hits the floor with a BANG before rolling under the muja bush. Turning, your wide eyes meet those of Hunter’s. Uh… H-helps…uh, grow.”

“Huh,” he replies before bending down and recovering the spray bottle. After scanning over it quickly, he holds it out to you and glances around the garden. “How can I be of service today?”

“I don’t really need any help,” you respond, taking the bottle and placing it back on your cart. You push your cart towards a patch of large sizhranian lettuce and smile. “I’ve got it under control.”

“I know,” he replies and takes a deep breath. “I just assumed two hands could be better than one.”

“I’ve got two hands,” you reply, holding them up and wiggling your soil-smudged fingers. The quirk on his face has you biting back a smile. You don’t really want him to stay. You prefer the quiet unless Master Ti is here.

Hunter rolls his neck. “I know I’m not the best with gardening, but I’d like to assist, please.”

Gently touching the heads of lettuce, you find the comment off. No one on Kamino likes being here—especially the Kaminoans—except for Master Ti. Though, some days you wonder if she feels obligated to keep you company.

There’s something in this soldier’s voice that says perhaps he yearns for the quiet haven you’ve found here.

“I…suppose you can sweep.”

“Of course.”

The rain pelting against the side of the greenhouse sings to your weary spirit and causes a gentle smile to light your lips. The fresh scent of soil and the musical melody is enough to put you into an easy sleep. Still, the way it permeates the greenhouse leaves you wondering where time has gone because before you know it, it’s time to leave. Dusting off your hands, you look at Hunter who’s working the hose back onto its post after watering the plants.

“Thank you for your help.”

“Not a problem,” he responds and you part ways for the night.

Dreaming of a hot shower, you reach your apartment and tap the panel. Stepping inside, your jaw drops.

Strung along the top corner of your living room are soft, white lights. Chuckling, you head to the refresher to wash off before grabbing a cup of cocoa and gazing at the beautiful sight.

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Humming softly to jogans, you admire their small, rounded, violet form, marveling in all the wonders of growth. Only a few weeks ago this tree was without fruit and now it’s well on its way to harvest. You’re certain by next week little lavender lines will begin to stretch throughout violet, signaling a bountiful feast.

Placing a hand on the tree, you give a soft grin and tease, “You’re my favorite.”

“Won’t that make the other trees jealous?”

It shouldn’t surprise you to hear Hunter because as usual he’s snuck up behind you. Still, you’re practically leaping out of your skin. Turning, you open your mouth to give a snotty retort only to see innocent confusion spread across his features.

He really is wondering if the other trees are jealous.

“I…love them all,” you reply with a little white lie because the begonia trees are actually your favorite. Swallowing roughly, you raise a hand towards a path on your right. “I suppose if you’re going to continue helping, I should at least show you around.”

He gives a light-hearted shrug. “Maybe I enjoy searching the toolsheds for supplies.”

“Come along,” you respond, wondering if that’s an attempt at humor or a sting about your lack of hospitality. “The six greenhouses are nearly identical, but with different climates inside. Two are crops that grow in any type of weather. The other four are specific seasons: cooler temps, spring, summer, and fall. Tools of all types—”

“Are located in the rear of each greenhouse.”

“Precisely.” Leading him towards the tool shed, you open the door and stand aside to allow him entry. “Each location is arranged exactly the same. Extra hoses of different sizes are along the north wall while the south wall hosts shovels of various types.

Walking the room, his gaze scans over the offerings held within before he turns back to you. “Where would you like me to start today?”

“I have some planting to do.” You grab several packs of blumfruit seeds. “If you’ll grab a bag of soil, I’ll show you how.”

Following you out to the table, he sets the soil on the ground and stands across from you. Arms folded across his chest, he studies the supplies laid out already as if mentally mapping how this process works—or perhaps coming up with a brand new process.

“You want to fill these little cups three-fourths of the way with soil,” you explain as you hoist the bag he brought onto the end of the table and open it. From there, you pull a planting cup from your pile, fill it with soil and poke your finger into the center of the squishing, damp dirt. “You then make a hole in the middle like so.”

“Understood.” Grabbing a cup, he mimics your process and holds it out for inspection.

“Perfect.” Opening a bag of seeds, you grab a tiny one and place it in the hole before covering it with soil. “Drop in one and cover it.”

“That’s it?” he questions as he copies your process. “Just one?”

“Just one,” you repeat and working on filling an entire tray with new life.

Returning to your apartment that evening, you’re exhausted. Somehow, having Hunter around meant more work was accomplished—not less. From planters filled with new seeds, to new trees planted in groves, you crossed a lot of tasks off your list but could sleep for a week.

Yawning, you smile in greeting at the lights before noticing a stocking with your name hung on the edge of the counter.

Smiling, you shower and collapse into bed.

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“I cannot thank you enough, Master,” you say to the Jedi as you tend a small patch of hidden roses you’d planted under begonia trees in the far corner of spring.

“Thank me for what?”

“The Life Day things. They’ve lessened the homesick feeling.”

Master Ti tilts her head gently. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You snort as you prune a rose bush. “The cocoa and string lights. Not to mention the stocking hanging on my counter.”

She shakes her head and confusion shimmers in her dark eyes. “I must confess, I should have done such things, but the thought never crossed my mind.”

Hands on your hips, your lips purse. Glancing to the Kaminoans in the distance, you question if one of those heartless creatures could have possibly seen your plight and lessened the depression within you. It’s not out of the realm of possibility you suppose, but which one?

Rawn Ga does seem to have a secret liking of spring gardening. You’ve caught him speaking with many of the vegetables and telling them stories of Tipoca City. Drun Oi has thoroughly enjoyed the winter berry bushes by the way she lovingly tends to the soil and touches their leaves. Icoa Ce gratefully accepts any job dealing with the summer orchards she puts countless hours of care into.

Could one of them have noticed your melancholy and decided to return the kindness?

Returning home for the evening, you look around your little apartment. The lights twinkle and wink at you, and the stocking welcomes you in. Nothing has been stolen or disturbed—the caf was found located in another cupboard days later, but that’s inconsequential.

While you’re not worried about these events, you are curious as to who would do such a thing.

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You spent the night in the summer greenhouse, throwing buckets of water back into the raging sea after the ceiling sprung a leak. The rainwater has flooded the floor and the orchards causing Icoa Ce to panic as she assists in tossing water out of the enclosure. As night gives way into morning, you’ve done everything you could to save the apricot trees as the Kaminoans have finally found a way to patch their faulty ceiling. Secretly, you wonder what else is susceptible to faults around Tipoca City.

Yawning, you work the giant squeegee down the paths pushing water and soil towards an exit. Your shoes are soaked, your clothes are drenched, and your spirits have considerably dampened. The repetitive squish-squish-squish you make with every step grates on your last nerve while a list spirals out of control in your head.

You’ll have to rework all the soil within the orchards and pray they take to the outrageous amounts of new soil you’ll need to replace all they’ve lost. Hopefully the trees will retain the nutrients, but you can never be too sure. Some of your lovelies are more finicky than others.

Given the icy rainwater that’s been flooding the room all night, it’ll take hours if not days to return this greenhouse back to its proper temperature and dread fills you as you realize not all of these crops will survive.

Happy Life Day to me, you think as you work the last of the water from the room.

Working with Icoa Ce—who has gone to Rawn Ga and Drun Oi for assistance—the four of you work diligently with others to restore in the room what you can.

In the end, you lose a few blackberry bushes, and three apricot trees. The shurras took a harder hit with a fourth of them being destroyed, but overall this room will be able to recover and you consider that a true Life Day gift.

By mid-afternoon, you trek back to your apartment with the same squish-squish-squish. You want nothing more than a hot shower, a warm cup of cocoa and to fall asleep to whatever Life Day film you can get on Kamino.

Rounding the corner to your apartment, you consider how much quicker the work might have gone had Hunter been around. He’s become a good acquaintance, borderline friend, and some days it’s frustrating, or perhaps disappointing, to know he’s been sent out on long missions with his squad.

And you do admit you don’t mind his company these days.

Tapping the panel with a shivering finger, the door swishes open, and you let out a soft gasp.

The clone standing in the middle of your living room has no business being there. But, for once, he practically leaps out of his skin before clearing his throat and itching the bottom part of the skull tattooed on his face.

“Uh… I honestly didn’t mean to intrude.”

Except, he’s somehow in the middle of the living room in your apartment without being offered a code. Still, you lean against the wall as a curious smile lights your lips.

“And this would be…?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles and shifts from what foot to another. “I’m sorry. I… wanted to thank you.”

Your clever retort about trespassing dies on your lips as you take note of the tree standing in the corner lit in the same white lights as the ceiling. Decorated with stringed popcorn, it’s the prettiest Life Day tree you’ve ever seen.

“…It’s you,” you whisper.

His shoulders rise to his ears. “Um…”

“It’s always been you,” you continue with a soft huff of a chuckle before shaking your head and turning to him. “But why?”

“Heard you talking about being homesick,” he comments before shoving his hands in the pockets of his grey work outfit. “I wanted to thank you for letting me assist in the greenhouses, though… This might not have been the best way.”

Walking to the tree, you gently touch the tips and relish in the fragrant smell. “But how did you… How? You don’t celebrate Life Day here.”

“The mop for a tree was a clue,” he chuckles—a sound that warms the chill in your cheeks. “A bit of research filled in most of the blanks. Ninety-nine let me in, and we discovered the rest of it. Would’ve been done sooner had I had a mission where there were trees. Seems like everything’s a desert these days.”

Chuckling, you turn to him and smile. “I have to shower after the fiasco that happened in Summer—”

“What happened?!”

Holding up a hand, you chuckle some more. “Give me an hour to shower, dress in cozy pajamas, get some food on the stove and cocoa going. I’ll tell you all about it over a Life Day meal.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he agrees and leaves to change into his own pajamas.

Smiling, you think perhaps this will be a wonderful friendship.

#star wars #clone wars #tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #hunter x you #tbb hunter

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caerulea-divilu · 6 months

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Super rough 30 minute put together. Last minute because my life is not my own right now

Not Yet

Characters: Howzer (pre-captain) & Captain Rex Words: 398 Event: Haunted Clone Week Prompt: Ghost Ships

Bright light blinds him from the world around forcing him to look away. Cowering back against the corner, he refuses to make eye contact. He once read of a technique in the animal kingdom where weaker animals make themselves small and unnoticeable. If they seem weak, there’s a chance they’re left alone.

Or perhaps it’s a technique prey use before being eaten.

He can’t quite remember.

As he gazes at the floor, the arm draped across his shoulder entices him to follow. It hints of peace and rest, all things he’s worked hard to avoid. However, the way tendrils of cold slip around him makes the idea more tempting with each passing heartbeat. The arm pulling him closer provides safety and warmth from the fear ahead.

“Don’t leave us…” whispers 9725.

“We need you,” murmurs 9732.

“You swore an oath,” reminds 9723.

“You can’t escape,” states the admiral.

“Soldier?”

Gaze rising, he looks at the blond clone before him. An aberrant who’s face is laced with concern, but he wears… A pauldron.

Is that possible?

“Soldier?” the aberrant repeats, hand settling on a broken shoulder bell and the arm slips. “Are you okay?”

Wetting his lips with a dry parched tongue, he leans around the commanding officer. Teeth chattering, he cowers back and shuts his eyes. “C-C-Can you see them?”

The man looks over his shoulder before turning back. His voice is low when he speaks. “What happened?”

“We were boarded. A Separatist raiding party.” He looks up at the officer. “No one survived, did they?”

The man draws a deep breath. “You did. You’re alive.”

“Why?”

“There’s still more for you to do in this life,” he responds softly. “You’re not stardust yet, Trooper.”

Leaning around the officer again, he looks at the ghosts of all those awaiting him. Whispers reach his ears again, telling him he belongs with them, they need him. They order him to follow. It’s his duty to join them. “I have to go. They’re calling.”

“No. They’re gone. You’re needed elsewhere. The Force has plans for you.”

Brow rising, he looks at the officer before him. He’s never heard any clone so brazenly speak of the Force. Most of his brethren—especially those who are ARC troopers—believe in Mandalore traditions.

Giving a nod, he avoids the specters clawing at his skin as he follows the commanding officer through blood and bone.

#star wars #art #captain howzer #Captain Rex #ct 7567 #star wars tcw #clone wars #haunted clone week #Ghost #Ghost Ship

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caerulea-divilu · 6 months

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sign ups are officially open (and a day early!)

the faq for the event can be found here, and you can find specific information about life day and what it could mean for fic here!

here’s how the exchange will work:

1. When you sign up, you'll choose a few clones that you would like to read about. Because this event is random, I require participants to at least be comfortable writing and reading for Captain Rex. You'll also give a few prompts that the person who has you will use in their fic. You are welcome to give life day or holiday themed prompts, but you'll also be asked to give at least one general prompt.

2. The day after sign ups end, you will receive two emails from me:

I’ll be using a secret santa website to do the matching, so one email will come from that website, and it will tell you who you will be writing for. I can easily randomize the assignments this way, and it ensures that everyone has a match.

The second email will come from this blog’s event email ([email protected]) and it will have posting information, general information for the participants, and a document of all the prompts. Once you find out from the secret santa website who your person is, you just need to find them on the list to see your prompt and the characters you have the option of writing for.

3. You will have about six weeks to write your fic, and the word minimum is 800 words. On Saturday, December 16th, participants will post their fics to tumblr. I’ll send out more details about posting when the event gets closer, so don’t worry about that. When you post your gift, make sure to tag your person and this blog, so i can reblog it here as well. I will also put together a list of all the fics when the event is over, which will be linked on the blog’s pinned post with the other past exchanges.

you can sign up here!!

tagging those who said they were interested: @theogfulcrum22 @caerulea-divilu @dragonrider9905 @dystopicjumpsuit @intricatechaosofyou

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caerulea-divilu · 6 months

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Art for Pyroclasts by Veldeia

Din Djarin has spent many long years waiting for the day when he'll be allowed to reveal his wings to outsiders. When he finally gets that permission and faces Moff Gideon, his first flight out in the open nearly becomes his last. It takes all the resourcefulness of his friends to save his broken wing—and his life.

Come play with me @diviluscorner

#star wars #the mandalorian #din darjin #din and grogu #Winged Din Djarin #Wings #diviluscorner

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caerulea-divilu · 8 months

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caerulea-divilu · 9 months

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I can finally post my OperationFixTheFinale comic! I painted it a while ago. Here is how I think Tech survived his fall. There are 7 pages total. Long story short: Tech ... Tech his way out

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caerulea-divilu · 9 months

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I am in love with how this piece came out!! This is for Operation: Fix the Finale and it really helped me recover from that Season finale :~; He survived the fall and he had to make sure there was some evidence of his 'death'

#Operation: Fix the Finale #star wars #tbb #the bad batch #tech #tech tbb #the bad batch tech #tech lives #the bad batch fanart #fanart

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caerulea-divilu · 9 months

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I received this cute fic for the @cloneficgiftexchange!

The idea of bonding over a bonfire is adorable! I love how the entire team works together to bring this to fruition. It’s nice to see everyone enjoy these small little moments in life. I would have laughed had the forest set on fire and they needed to rush and put it out. I wouldn’t have been surprised in the least if Wrecker had gotten too over excited lol.

It’s always adorable when Hunter tries to deny feelings. I always like when he tries to play things off at first, and he does that here. He doesn’t want to cross that bridge (but he HAS to cross that bridge because it’s eating him alive lol) Their little interactions early in the story with Reader teasing “You’ve done it now” are sweet. Omega and Echo knowing what’s up between the two made me laugh, especially when Echo gave Hunter a sly look and saying he’ll leave them to it.

It was a lovely ending with everyone leaving and Hunter staying with Reader where they were finally able to discuss their feelings.

Lovely job!

Sparks

Hunter x Fem!Jedi Reader One-Shot

Summary: You and Hunter realize your long-hidden feelings for one another. Warnings: Wee bit of angst, kissing/making out, slight suggestiveness. This is my first fic! Excuse any formatting or grammatical errors...I haven't stretched my writing fingers in a long time. I also have no idea how Tumblr formatting works, haha. I needed some fluff after that finale. This one got away from me...3,000 words. Please leave your thoughts and enjoy!

@wanderer-six tagged as requested! :)

The bonfire was now huge, burning fast and bright, much to Wrecker and Omega’s delight. Sparks flew in to the clear night air, illuminating the figures sitting around it.

Clone Force 99 and you had just finished a tiring mission and were taking the night to decompress on a desolate, forested planet. The bonfire was actually your idea, a memory you had stored deep in your subconscious from when you were a very young Jedi Padawan. After a tough training or difficult mission, your Master would often start a fire while you meditated and reflected. The heat and cackling from the flames helped calm you, oddly enough. It was something that you continued to do, even as a Jedi General during the war. It was something that burned bright in the darkness. Something that you were all now desperate for in this new Imperial galaxy.

You didn’t speak much of your past as a Jedi at first. It was too painful, too fresh. But as you spent more time with Clone Force 99, you became more comfortable sharing small snippets on occasion, much to the excitement of Omega who hung on to every word. Echo would also sometimes add his own stories from his old squad, which would then inspire Wrecker to tell stories (sometimes embellished ones) of their missions, reminiscing on battles won. It was nice to connect again, to have those who understood you, as you were now all outcasts. Chewed up by the war and tossed to the side, now struggling to find your place in the galaxy.

Somewhat recently after Order 66, they rescued you from bounty hunters who had suspicions you were a Jedi. You tried to keep it a secret, but Hunter found you out with his heightened senses. You warily came clean to them, telling them the truth.

You were only supposed to stay with them for a short time, only until you found a new place to hide. Hunter was wary with having a Jedi on board, especially since they already had a target on their back. But a short time turned longer. You were helpful on missions and were careful to never expose yourself as a Jedi. Omega became particularly attached to you, and Hunter saw how much Omega was benefiting from a woman on board. You also became close with them, especially Hunter. You both connected over the baggage of being a leader, and what it meant to fail as one as well. Other feelings began to blossom, that neither you or Hunter knew how to act on, or even if you should. You found yourself talking to him late in to the night, discussing next mission plans or plans from the past. But you both always left those conversations wishing you had said more.

Tech had just carefully landed the ship on the empty, forested planet in the only clearing he could find. It was Hunter's idea to do inventory, seeing when you would need to do a supply run next. You casually mentioned the bonfire memory as you were all rummaging through gear and supplies, as this planet reminded you of that distant memory.

Omega’s eyes widened and asked, “Can we do that tonight? That sounds fun!” while looking excitedly between you and Hunter, who was sitting down and cleaning his knife. He chuckled, a low chuckle that made butterflies swirl in your stomach. Something you’ve realized has been happening more often. But you pushed that thought aside, for now.

“Sure, kid. This planet is empty enough. I don’t think it will attract too much attention.” Tech adjusted his goggles and looked up from his datapad. “I do not see any settlements on this planet. There is no current need for worry.” He said before becoming absorbed once more in his research.

Wrecker, with much glee, shot up from begrudgingly organizing his gear, and announced, “Fire, I like this idea! This is boring anyway. Let’s take a break and go gather some wood!” He turned to look at Hunter for approval, who shrugged and nodded. “Omega, let’s go!” Wrecker hurriedly threw the rest of his unorganized gear on his bunk. Omega grinned, also happy to get away from inventory, and began after Wrecker down the ramp of the Marauder. She stopped at the top of the ramp and looked back. “Thank you!” She beamed at both you and Hunter, and skittered after Wrecker.

Hunter had put his knife away and was now leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, gazing at you. You felt your heart beat quicken when you matched his stare. “You’ve done it now.” He teased as he watched Wrecker and Omega run toward the tree line. You shrugged with a small smile as you stood up from putting the last piece of equipment back in your gear pack. “Well, I have to admit, I need a break too. Let’s just hope they don’t burn the whole planet down.”

Hunter released a low chuckle again and you felt heat rise up your neck. “With Wrecker involved, I’m not too sure.” Echo quipped from the pilot seat, where he was researching where they could get supplies before the next mission. “Given the current wind speeds and our distance from the trees, it would be difficult to start a blaze that big.” Tech called from under a piece of machinery he was now working on. “But I have to agree with Echo. With Wrecker involved, statistically the odds are higher.”

You gave a small laugh, which made Hunter’s heart involuntarily quicken. It was your laugh that he often thought of deep in the night, when he was having trouble sleeping. The way your shoulders moved when you chuckled, the way your eyes glinted when you smiled. How sometimes he’d find himself almost getting out of his bunk to wake you up and take you in his arms, telling you how he feels as his lips meet yours….

A sudden crash snapped him out of his thoughts, setting his senses haywire. You heard the sound too, and you looked at each other and ran down the ramp to see what the commotion was, hands on your blasters. Hunter breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Wrecker standing with Omega at the tree line, who were both excitedly picking up branches from a dead tree Wrecker had just knocked over. Hunter ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t help but always be on high alert, especially with Omega. He could see relief in your eyes as well, once you realized it was nothing to be concerned about. You lightly touched his arm, asking “You okay?” “Yeah…” he breathed. “I’m not used to…calm.” You nodded, understanding.

“I guess we better enjoy it while it lasts.”

Your lips ghosted a smile, realizing you were still touching Hunter’s arm. You moved your hand, suddenly embarrassed. Hunter opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Echo coming down the ramp to see what the commotion was. He also needed a break, and was interested in this fire idea. “Yeah, you’ve really done it now, _____.” Echo teased as you all looked at the growing pile of logs and branches that Omega and Wrecker had collected. “Hey, don’t just stand there, come and help us!” Wrecker called as he balanced more giant branches in his arms. You gave Hunter a look and continued down the ramp to help.

The sun was getting low, and Wrecker was adding the last log to a massive pile he and Omega collected. You were collecting small sticks and brush for kindling. Wrecker put down the last one, wiping sweat from his face. “Phew! Do you think this is enough?” He huffed. “If you are trying to light a fire big enough for the entire Galaxy to see, then yes.” Tech said casually as he came down the ship’s ramp, also now having his interest piqued. “Oh, it’ll be a massive fire, I can’t wait!” Wrecker exclaimed as he winked at Omega.

“So now what? I’ve never made a fire before. Hunter, can you teach me?” Omega asked, looking up at Hunter with large, pleading eyes. Hunter looked at her softly. “Yeah, sure kid.” He glanced at you and then put his hand on Omega’s shoulder, leading her toward the log pile.

As Hunter and Omega began to make a space for the fire, you and Echo were maneuvering some of the bigger logs for everyone to have a seat once the fire was going. Since this planet was desolate, you used the Force to move some of the larger logs. Hunter noticed out of the corner of his eye, always secretly impressed with your graceful power. It was rare when you used it, and it captivated him.

“What’s next Hunter? Hunter?” Hunter snapped out of his thoughts and Omega was looking at him, curiously. “You were staring again.” She said quietly. “I don’t know what you mean, Omega.” He lightly scolded, trying to change the subject.

She gave a small smirk. “You sometimes stare at _____.” Hunter cleared his throat. “And I see her stare at you sometimes, too.” She said matter-of-factly, looking back at the pile of kindling they had placed for the eventual fire. “I think she likes you.” Before he could respond, you had suddenly appeared behind them. “How’s it going?” You asked. Hunter bristled, hoping you hadn’t just heard their conversation, not even realizing you were approaching. “It’s uh…going well. I’m just about to teach Omega how to actually light the fire.”

“I have something embarrassing to admit.” You said sheepishly. “I actually don’t know how to start a fire, either. My Master just always used his lightsaber.” You laughed and Omega smiled.

“Mind if I watch?” You sat down next to Hunter, eager to learn as much as Omega was. Or maybe you were just eager to be close to Hunter. His senses were suddenly overwhelmed with your scent, another thing he was noticing lately. His stomach felt like it was on fire. Get a grip, Hunter. he thought. He snapped himself out of thinking about you once again, and continued with his lesson. “Im going to start with the hard way first. Say you’re stranded without gear. This is important to learn.” He took a small stick to use as a spindle and a small flat piece of wood. “This takes awhile and is a pain, but this is the most basic way to start a spark.” He began to spin the spindle between his hands quickly in to a divot he had made on the flat piece of wood on the ground, held steady by his foot. Omega watched intensely, soaking up every word and action. You saw a small gleam of sweat form at his brow, and watched the concentration in his eyes. Your heart fluttered again, suddenly imagining his sweaty brow and intense look above you in a moment of passion. The smell of smoke brought you back to reality, before your imagination went further. Hunter had made a small ember that was smoking. He carefully moved it to the kindling and gently blew on it to start a small flame.

“Woaaah, let me try!” Omega gasped excitedly and went to work the same way Hunter did on a new piece of flat wood. You watched as he patiently moved her hands to the correct position, gently correcting her when appropriate. For a dark and broody Sergeant, you recognized his moments of softness. Moments that he also sometimes shared with you, which you knew were special, especially coming from someone as guarded as him.

After trial and error, and some frustration, Omega finally got her own spark. “I did it!” She yelled. Hunter smiled.

“Good work, kid. You might just be a natural. Now, carefully put it in the kindling.”

She gently moved it to the already growing flame and looked at Hunter for approval. “There you go, you did it. That was all you.” Omega beamed and said “Now it’s _____’s turn.” She jumped up and brushed dust and dirt off her knees, and began to walk away. “Wait, where are you going?” Hunter asked. Omega turned and called, “I want to tell the others the fire is almost ready!” She gave Hunter a look and ran back to the Marauder where the rest of the boys had gone to rest, before Hunter and you could respond.

It was suddenly quiet, only the gentle crackling of the small fire was to be heard.

“I guess it’s my turn to try, huh?” You said softly, realizing it was just you and Hunter for a moment. The sun was almost set, and the small fire was casting a soft glow on the both of you. “You don’t have to-“ he began but you stopped him.

“No, I want to! What good am I to the team if I can’t even start a fire? I need to impress my Sergeant." You smirked playfully. "Also, I can’t let a kid get the best of me.” You teased as you began to spin the stick between your hands.

“You bring other skills to the team, you don’t have to worry about fire making.” He stated. “Leave that to Omega and I.” He smiled, looking at you. “Also, you don’t need to impress me. You already do that.” Suddenly, you felt shy. Hunter glanced away from you, embarrassed about what he just said, wrestling with his feelings, wondering if he had said too much.

“Thank you, Hunter. I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how grateful I am to you, and to your brothers, for taking me in.” Hunter looked at you. “You don’t need to thank me. But I’m glad you’re here. Part of this team.” He murmured, turning away from you and looking at the fire. “Me too.” You acted before you could think, gently placing your hand on his shoulder, closing the distance between you, forgetting all about the fire lesson. Hunter stiffened a little while facing you, feeling your hand on his unarmored shoulder. The touch he often thought about late in to the night. The touch he wondered if he’d ever feel. If he even deserved it.

Once again, you felt heat climb up your neck to your face and you began to remove your hand, but before you could, Hunter brought his other hand and placed it on top of yours. Your feelings for Hunter exploded in your chest, realizing how handsome he looked in the soft light, his brown eyes shining in the dark, wondering what you should do next as you felt the heat from his hand encapsulate yours. You were taught no attachments, but that had no meaning anymore. Was this just desperation for something that used to be taboo? You tried to read his face, as he gazed intensely at you. Hunter moved closer to you, “____...I want to tell you something…”

Your intimate moment was suddenly cut short by voices as Wrecker, Tech, Omega, and Echo emerged from the falling darkness toward you. Your hand left Hunter’s shoulder and you practically leapt away from him, startled by the intrusion. You caught a small look of disappointment on his face. “Aww yeah, it’s fire time!” Wrecker bellowed as he held a huge armful of sticks and logs. “Let’s get this going!” You were still sitting near Hunter, and Echo gave you and Hunter a sly look as he sat down on a log near the still small fire, carrying ration bars. You were suddenly distracted by the giant roar as the fire grew due to Wrecker and Omega gleefully adding more and more wood to the fire, blissfully unaware they interrupted…something. Tech tried to explain the optimal way to place logs to get the most efficient fire, but his remarks were ignored and Omega and Wrecked piled more in to the blaze, and he soon gave up.

The heat blazed and sparks flew in to the air, the wood cracking and popping. The fire was massive, and Omega had never seen anything like it and was in awe. You saw Hunter out of the corner of your eye as he stared in to the flames, his face unreadable. You all enjoyed the light and intense warmth the large blaze gave, sitting in silence for a bit. You desperately wanted to be alone with Hunter again, as you listened to Wrecker tell another taller than life tale, with an annoyed Tech trying to interject the facts. Your memory was brought back to you and your Master, quietly enjoying the fire and reflecting on your day’s mission. After Wrecker finished his story, Omega turned to you, waiting for another glimpse in to your past. She understood it was hard for you to talk about, but was hopeful to hear something from before the Galaxy she currently knew. “Omega,” Hunter warned. “____ might not want to discuss it.” He gave you a soft look. The look almost melted your heart. You wanted to desperately take his face in your hands and continue what had started before.

“It’s okay, Hunter. I have a story.”

You told Omega of your first solo mission as a Jedi Knight. You had infiltrated a pirate base. It wasn’t too exciting, but to Omega it was the most amazing story she’d ever heard. Echo passed out the ration bars as you told your story. After you were done, you nibbled on your bar as you stared in to the flames. There was a comfortable silence as everyone ate, enjoying the small bit of calm before you were all off again on another mission.

After awhile, the fire began to dim and there was no more wood to add. Omega let out a yawn, satisfied with her first bonfire. “We should do this more often.” She proclaimed as another yawn overtook her. “Yeah kid, we can.” Hunter whispered. Wrecker had already fallen asleep, laying over a log in an uncomfortable position, snoring away. Tech nudged Wrecker, also ready to go back to the ship to sleep. One by one, they went back to the ship, leaving you, Hunter, and Echo. Echo then stood up, bidding you both a good night. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.” He raised an eyebrow and then he was gone before you either of you could respond.

Once again, you were alone with Hunter and the slowly burning fire. He looked at you, the fire reflecting in his eyes.

He never thought he’d be grappling with feelings like this. Especially for someone like you. But you cared about him. Worried about him and his brothers, something he’d never experienced before. It was new, and frankly, it scared him. He’d never admit it out loud, but that was the truth. But here he was, with you within arms reach again, staring at him and waiting for what might come next. You looked beautiful, ethereal in the glow of the now small fire. “Hunter…” you whispered as you maneuvered closer to him, like you were before earlier in the night. Your hand was close to his on the log you were both sitting on. You couldn’t wait any longer, the tension between you was about to snap. “You wanted to tell me something earlier?”

He stared intensely at you, trying to find the words to say.

“____, I…I wanted to tell you…I care about you.” His voice was deep, almost inaudible. You fully took his hand, looking right in to his eyes. He was suddenly overwhelmed, waiting for your response. “Hunter, I care about you too.” The second he heard you whisper those words, he boldly closed the distance, acting purely on instinct, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, quick kiss. He pulled back slightly, hoping he didn’t mess this all up.

“____, tell me to stop and I will.” Hunter’s voice was husky and deep. Almost a whisper. It sent shivers down your spine. “Never.” You murmured as you brought a hand to his face, gently cradling his head. Relief washed over you, happy you finally revealed how you felt. He closed his eyes and leaned in to your touch, sighing a deep sigh. You moved your hand from his cheek and gripped his collar, needing more. You pulled him back to your lips for a more passionate kiss. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders as the tension between you dissipated, flying in to the sky with the embers from the fire.

It was his turn to bring his hands to your face, cradling your head gently as he deepened the kiss, your heart feeling like it was about to explode out of your chest. The sensation of your lips moving on his was almost overwhelming. His hands were strong, yet gentle as they maneuvered down to your hips, leaving a trail of fire down your body. You both pulled away again, panting slightly, looking in each other’s eyes. All the unsaid words, all the silent looks, were now completely understood by both of you.

Your hand that was on his collar moved to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his long, soft locks while your other hand gripped his shoulder. You whispered his name as he pulled you in impossibly close for another kiss, getting drunk on your scent, your body.

His tongue slowly made his way in to your mouth, which pulled a groan from deep in your chest. Your reactions spurred him on, his hands on your waist ghosting underneath your tunic, his gloved hands moving over your bare skin making the butterflies in your stomach explode. You desperately wanted those gloves off, to feel his skin on yours. After what felt like an eternity, you parted for air once again. The fire had now died down quite a bit, leaving you both in almost total darkness. You were illuminated by the stars, the only sound being your shallow breaths. You both wanted so much more, but now wasn’t the time. Hunter nuzzled his face in to your neck, and moved one of his hands from your hips to grasp yours, which had fallen to your side. “I’m yours, if you’ll have me.” He whispered against your neck, his heart thudding against yours. “Yes, Hunter.” You whispered back, squeezing his hand. He moved his head from your neck and brought you against his chest in an embrace, his chin leaning on your head. You both gazed at the glowing embers of what used to be the giant fire, wondering what comes next. But at least for now, you were at peace.

#star wars #clone wars #bad batch #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter

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caerulea-divilu · 10 months

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caerulea-divilu · 10 months

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Art for @kckenobi's story

In Another Life

@swbigbang

Rating: G | AO3

Summary: Eleven years after the rise of the Empire, a favor to a friend sends Obi-Wan traveling through the multiverse. He encounters different versions of the galaxy and of himself—including one in which Anakin never turned to the dark side.

Obi-Wan and this Light Anakin are forced to work together to stop the creation of a disastrous Empire weapon. But as they move through different versions of reality, the timelines become more and more twisted—and the harder it is to distinguish who they are from who they might have been.

And—to find their way home.

#Star Wars #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #padme amidala #satine kryze #Darth Vader #DivilusCorner #art #sketch

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caerulea-divilu · 10 months

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Sauron will not have forgotten the Sword of Elendil. The blade that was broken shall return to Minas Tirith.

THE LORD OF THE RINGS: The Return of the King (2003) dir. Peter Jackson

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caerulea-divilu · 10 months

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Don't Promote Me

Cody's new to this whole Marshal Commander idea, and he's not even sure if he wants the title—a series of glimpses that made Cody want to be Commander and a few that didn't.

AO3

Written for @212thappreciation week

Cody sets down his helmet with a muted thud wincing as it pierces the quiet quarters. Day one has already brought far more responsibility than he ever foresaw and he wonders if someone else should be in charge.

Someone like Alpha.

Alpha is the commander and warrior needed. He’s a real ARC trooper. Quiet, reserved, dangerous—all traits his vod'ika, Rex, looks up to and strives for. All things Cody should be.

He does have the quiet and reserved down, but he’s not certain he’ll ever meet the terror requirements of an ARC trooper. Not that he has to be. Marshal Commanders have a few different requirements. He needs to be a bit more diplomatic and personable, even if he doesn’t want to be.

Shifting from foot to foot, Cody looks at the few datapads on his desk. He could start looking over those, filing reports, and reading others. However, does he take off his armor first? Can he strip down to his blacks and work? Is that appropriate for a Marshal Commander?

A knock at the door draws his attention. Grabbing his helmet, he tucks it under his arm. Protocol says a good soldier is always prepared for battle. True, they might be on a ship and he hasn’t heard alarms, but that doesn’t mean whoever is behind the door doesn’t need a soldier.

Flicking open the door, he straightens to attention.

“Good evening, Commander.”

Cody doesn’t move from his rigid stance as he observes the Jetti. They’ve been told little about such men apart from be wary of them. Though he may fight alongside this general, he is to trust his brothers and the Republic only. These Jetti have other means to an end, another reason to fight in this war, there are nefarious purposes at work within them.

Tray in hand, the man takes a deeper breath. “I thought perhaps we could have a cup of tea. I see now that I’m interrupting you—”

“O-oh.” Cody places his helmet on the nightstand and stacks the datapads on his desk neatly to the left. “Please, feel free, General.”

Setting the tray on the desk, he makes two cups and hands one to Cody as he glances about the quarters. “I’m sorry these accommodations are small, Commander.”

Small? He looks around the room that would fit at least twelve tubes, if not more. Compared with that, and the fact he has his own space, how could there be an apology for such a thing?

“I do hope you won’t take what Anakin said too offensive,” the Jetti continues and Cody has a feeling this is why the general sought him out. “He has a warrior’s heart but hasn’t quite learned the nuance that accompanies it.”

The commander questioning his competency when he chose to send his troops into the fray and lose half of them in the battle definitely didn’t do him any favors today. The younger Jetti simply doesn’t understand that they were created for only one reason.

To be cannon fodder.

Regardless, he doesn’t need his new general thinking poorly of him on day one.

Sipping the tea, Cody’s pleasantly surprised to find it flavored sweetly. “No offense taken, General.”

“I imagine the transition is a tad difficult. Warfare might be a tad different in reality. You spent your entire life on Kamino, is that correct?”

He nods.

“It takes a very brave soldier to leave the confines of the only home he’s ever known and travel into the stars. It takes an even braver man to lead into a war he doesn’t quite understand.”

Jaw tightening, he bristles at that comment. “We understand the war just fine. It is our duty and privilege to serve the Republic, and keep it safe.”

“Yes, but those who have chosen to side with the Separatists were once aligned with us. There are still friends and family who are now divided by lines that have little understanding.”

“They are the enemy.”

For a moment, the general’s eyes light as if he’ll make an argument but he sips his tea instead. “Enemy is a loose term, Commander, that comes down to a certain point of view. There are far more greys in this galaxy than we’d care to admit.”

“Sir, with all due respect, there are two sides to this war, and my job is to ensure the safety of the people.”

“As I have no doubt you’ll do, and when the time comes, I trust you’ll make the right decisions.”

Brow wrinkling, Cody sips his tea. The Jetti’s words are straightforward, and yet, he gathers they have more than one meaning. Do these people always speak in ways that could be viewed several different ways?

#star wars fanfiction #212th appreciation week #cc 2224 #ct 7567 #commander cody #captain rex #obi wan kenobi

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caerulea-divilu · 10 months

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Art for @kckenobi's story In Another Life

@swbigbang

Rating: G | AO3

And—to find their way home.

#star wars #clone wars #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #swbb2023 #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #darth vader

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caerulea-divilu · 10 months

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Cover art for @tragedybunny's fic, "Hiraeth" for the @swbigbang 2023

Rated T | Find it Here on AO3.

A story that explores the relationship between Obi-Wan and Satine; the choices they made, how those affected their lives, and the reassurance they give themselves that they did the right thing.

#obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #obi wan x satine #duchess satine #the clone wars #Star Wars

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caerulea-divilu · 11 months

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No Trophies, Only Prisoners

for @swbigbang 2023

Dust floats through the air in what light comes through the bedroom door, but it doesn’t take away from the shimmering shard in his fingers. Flipping the piece over, he marvels at the way it glitters and sparkles which in turn highlights the blackened edges.

Blaster burns, he recognizes as he fiddles with the pieces. Jango’s lips purse as he shifts the jagged edges and debates all the possibilities this could be. While he has no firm answer ‘cos it doesn’t resemble a stone or transparisteel he’s seen before, there is something about this that reminds him of a half-remembered dream. Turning the shards slightly, he continues repositioning them ever so subtly watching the light catch and colors of all sorts dance. If he doesn’t view the pieces as a flattened surface, but rather as a whole object—

Jango tries again at parenting; Rex says that baby isn't his but Jango knows better

AO3 Link | Artwork Here

Sand gets into every nook and cranny though it’s more of a nuance than a current issue. The tiny, scratchy grains are nothing compared to the serrated teeth looking to make a meal out of him. Incandescent yellow eyes bore a hole straight through him, and he wonders if it’s deciding what he’ll taste like. Hopefully, his muscle will make him a bit chewy. If this is his final moment, might as well be tough to swallow.

Another snarl rattles the cell and once again he debates how he ended up in such a position. He’s simply hunting Komari Vosa, so how did he end up face-to-face with a starving krayt?

“My dragon is hungry,” Gardulla the Hutt announces.

Oh, that’s right . Unfortunately, teaming up with Wesell hasn’t done him any favors in this challenge.

“Throw the scum in!”

A slow blink brings the world back into view.

Drawing a deep, unneeded breath, Jango’s fingers reach for the roof as he rises onto his toes. Stretching his muscles could be considered a waste of time, but it only feels right. Just like breathing.

Or yawning which he does loudly as he scans his surroundings.

The pristine porch on which he stands comes with a swing three paces behind him. A rocking chair sits several paces in the opposite direction as if signaling where the wrap-around porch turns. Shifting, no boards creak under him and the wood is as smooth as the day it was polished and sealed to fight weather. A step and a half down on his left—

Five steps.

There should be five steps.

Leaning for a better view around the railing, Jango notes dirt near-ready to overtake the top step.

That’s not right.

The ground has never been this close.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jango works to organize his sluggish, and somewhat troublesome, thoughts. He’s not feeding Gardulla to her krayt; that was a memory. He’s not on Geonosis, that’s where he died. Killed in an arena long ago.

Wasn’t he?

He swears he was, but he also knows it to be true just yesterday he was here with the commander and his family.

Not Manda.

Or any other afterlife.

No, he was here yesterday watching the soldier cradle new life.

He was here yesterday when the kid told him he wouldn’t be missed.

He was here yesterday…

Frowning, Jango’s gaze travels from the steps across unkempt fields and an overgrown yard which sing of warning bells and klaxon horns. How could the land be filled with prickly briars and soil scorched from lack of care? How could the garden vanish in a day? How could even the pond become a cesspool neither receiving nor providing water? Even the oddly colored Veshok forest lining the land to the north seems to encroach on the property as its branches reach for the barn a stone’s throw from the house.

Yet the porch on which he stands remains untouched by whatever has claimed the land for its own overnight. There are no signs of decay or rotting wood. Merely a film of dust—

No.

Inhaling deeply, Jango moves through the wooden door.

Curtains pulled tightly across not just the bay window to his left, but every source of sunlight make it hard to see for several long moments. When his vision finally adjusts, Jango’s greeted by dust covering every object in the great room from the floors to the counters to chairs and beyond. He might not be able to smell the stale scent perforating the atmosphere, but he knows it’s there by the way silence hangs eerily in the air. Tension floods his veins as he scans for an ambush.

Shifting along the wall, Jango glances to the left where the fireplace is filled with far more ash than normal. Objects were burned? The chair, sofa, and caf-table all sit layered with thick dust. The kitchen table before him has taken on a dark grey appearance rather than the dark stain it once held. Beyond that, the kitchen plays host to cabinets layered so heavily in dust it looks as if the mites have built cities inside.

Walking between the sofa and table, Jango enters the kitchen. The counter, which wraps most of the kitchen in the letter Krill, no longer boasts shined granite. Instead, dirt and grime cover everything that once glimmered in the sunlight.

The conservator on his left stands quiet. No hum of electricity fills the air from that or any other appliance. Moving to the pantry just past that, Jango finds the canned fruits and vegetables, flour and sugar that once filled this place from floor to ceiling are gone, leaving only fragmented strings of dust hanging from shelves.

Me…bana…? he questions as he moves to the cabinets. Dishes and cups are still kept within, but nothing of value remains.

Retreating to the great room, Jango heads right and enters the room there.

It stands empty, void of anything that says someone lived here once upon a time. Checking the closet reveals more dust and Jango doesn’t understand why this happened. He doesn’t understand why this place sits empty.

Making for the stairs, he climbs them to the second floor and searches the first four bedrooms. Beds are in these, but they also sit void of any life.

Pausing, he looks at the doors to the master bedroom. Carved beautifully out of Veshok wood, they sit closed reminding him of a crypt and he frowns. Whatever spell the Ca’vod cast upon this place has kept it from deteriorating—even if it doesn’t keep the dust from piling up—and signifies a return. There is thought to this action. A definite fact shows the captain will find his way home even if he decided it was best to flee before.

Teeth gritting, Jango’s mood sours like bantha milk, and he stomps to the master bedroom—leaving no trail. The kid was a hodor to leave over a comment. Submitting his granddaughter to the evils overtaking the galaxy over a remark is sheer idiocy. He wasn’t setting an imprekan on his granddaughter—as if he would ever bestow such evil upon her. He wasn’t sending her to her demise. Jango simply gave an answer that wasn’t preferred.

What was he supposed to do? Lie? Fabricate a fairytale? Tell the kid everything would be all right? Fill his empty skull with delusions of grandeur? Leave him woefully unprepared?

Boba would have understood, he ruminates and wishes—not for the first time—whatever brought his spirit back would have put him in Boba’s life instead of a petulant ade who wanted to play pretend.

Snorting, Jango pauses outside the doors as his gaze sweeps the barren, lifeless house.

“Good riddance,” he grouses to the emptiness.

｡.•°•.｡｡.•°•.｡

The man dressed in armor, dark as a moonless night, hunts for someone named Jaster Mereel. His buir has told the man again and again he hasn’t seen him since he was exiled. That does little to satisfy the stranger's anger. It only elicits threats of brains scattered across the farm.

Fingers threaded through his hair whip his head back. Tears slip from Jango’s cheeks as he struggles to understand. Jaster hasn’t been here. His father didn’t assist him. His father was only helping a beggar. Why won’t this man accept the answer and move on?

A loud crack permeates the air leaving his ears ringing. The grip on his hair disappears. A loud thump sounds next to him bringing him back to the present.

Looking up, he meets his buir’s gaze. “Jango! Run!”

Leaning against the wall, Jango snorts. It was cowardly of the kid to flee his home. If he was any sort of real man—any real Mandalorian—the soldier would have fought til his last breath to protect his family on his land. Bolting from the safety of this place into the unknown ‘cos of a comment proves the aiwha-bait implanted imprudent dispositions into the cannon fodder.

All but confirms they ruined his genetic code.

Rubbing his thumb over his fingers, he finally pushes off the wall. The house has been deathly silent since he passed through the door some time ago. The Ca’vod’s spell certainly would have been strong enough to keep out vagrants and creatures alike. She had more sense to defend their home than his witless clone.

Never thought I’d see the day their race would have more intelligence than a Mandalorian.

But the kid was never a Mandalorian.

He was merely livestock bred for slaughter. Never meant to be anything more than that, yet unexpectedly, the kid had an ad’ika. Unexpectedly, despite precautions the Republic supposedly took, he’d sired an ik’aad. Unexpectedly, despite the long necks forbidding such an act, despite how they drilled into them the importance of Code and compliance, the kid couldn’t be bothered to obey even the simplest command.

Stomping into the kid’s room, Jango’s sweeping gaze narrows.

A bedroom once bright with sunlight and glowing holopictures sits dark with curtains drawn tight. The bed remains in the middle of the wall opposite the door, perfectly made. On the same wall, tucked into the far right corner near the balcony door stands a wooden buycika handcrafted by the kid.

Moving towards the crib, his gaze shifts above the bed. Fists clenching, it’s absurd the kid removed every last holopicture from the wall. Careless and stupid, he chastises as he scans the furniture and clothes left behind. Holopictures were more important than a buycika? Where is his granddaughter supposed to sleep? How is his granddaughter supposed to be kept warm? Why was his granddaughter removed from the safety of this home without basic necessities—

CRUNCH!

Slowly tilting his foot, Jango’s brow knits. I touched something? Head tilting, he kneels to get a closer look at the shattered item. Pulling a tiny shard from the pile, he holds it up.

Rising, Jango looks around as a new thought takes hold. The house was kept under a spell to ward off deterioration and outsiders. The buycika is still here as are most of their belongings…

Looking at the shattered pieces, a cold he’s never known floods his spirit.

My words didn’t spook the kid.

Whatever happened after that night, happened ‘cos the kid and Ca’vod were trying to protect his granddaughter. Given the presence of this Jetti trinket—a holocron to be specific, and what knowledge those tend to carry, Jango wagers his granddaughter regrettably shared another gruesome trait with her mother.

Which brought about their demise.

Searing rage rushes through his spirit like a solar flare and licks across his beskar hardened walls. He should have given the kid the benefit of the doubt. He was a commander, after all. He loved his family and would have done anything to keep them safe, which meant he wouldn’t have left the house unless he deemed it absolutely necessary.

All similar tactics to what Jango, himself, would have done for Boba.

The trouble is the kid never stood a chance.

The Ca’vod, that wretched being, and her sordid history brought about the demise of his granddaughter. She passed down those ill-fated traits soiling the ad’ika and condemning her to an early death. She should be ashamed of herself. She should be—

She’s dead.

And good riddance.

Though, this revelation doesn’t quite quash a small nagging inquiry that he cursed his granddaughter. He’s responsible for this, which is a ridiculous notion.

His genetics hold no ties to those powers.

What if you had told Tyranus no?

The absurdity of that thought startles him as he debates the source. The voice in his head—spirit?—sounds like his. The cadence is quite similar. The patterns and resonance are nearly recognizable.

Except…

The faintest note is out of place.

Regardless, had he told the dar’jetti no, the man would have found someone else. If Jango hadn’t been the template, another would have risen in his place. While he may have survived the trial, it would mean a universe without Boba—should his son still be alive.

It would also have meant his granddaughter wouldn’t have existed for those precious few weeks.

And it would have cost the kid his life.

Looking down at the shimmery shards, Jango knows there wasn’t another option. He could not have declined Tyranus’ offer. The Jetti were destined to die either way. What’s more, they deserved what they got. After their senseless attack on his people, they deserved to be wiped from existence.

Though it cost him a life with Boba and the ik’aad.

His granddaughter.

Despite what her mother was.

Despite what her buir was.

That ad’ika was his granddaughter.

Red, hot anger surges through his spirit like superheated steam scorching everything in its path. Jango will pour down retribution. He will avenge his little warrior stolen too soon from this galaxy. He will take on the Empire, raze it to the ground, until his pound of flesh has been extracted.

Jaw locked and mind set, he casts one last look at the empty bed nestled between two nightstands and covered in a smooth blue comforter. The headboard is a rich brown wood that contrasts against the wood of the wall behind. Three pillows—two with a black case and one in white—sit fluffed on each side waiting for their owners' return.

As his gaze settles on the right side of the bed—closest the buycika—the world around him tilts. Unable to stop it, it shatters into a million pieces like the holocron on the floor.

An overwhelming emptiness he’s never known floods his spirit. Tosses him around like a ship lost in a raging asteroid storm. He doesn’t need breath, and yet, Jango swears he’s suffocating in the cold depths of space. Useless lungs burn with frost and carbon monoxide as his throat slowly closes.

Fists curling and shaking, he growls to break free.

Until the entire Empire consists of nothing but corpses, their debt will not be paid in full.

#jango fett #captain rex #and sort of a foundling #clone wars #star wars #the clone wars #ct 7567 #star wars legends #star wars the clone wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars big bang 2023

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caerulea-divilu · 11 months

Text

Angel of Death

Summary: Legend says you choose to die because when the angel of death greets you, you fall in love and surrender your soul. Rex has never been the angel of death, though the damsel he rescues might be.

Pairing: Captain Rex x OC

Done for the Cowboy Challenge presented by @never--doubt. Not sure why I decided to add more to my plate, but here we are lol. I had too much fun with this.

Tropes: Damsel in Distress; Horse (Krayt); Horse is their best friend; (more to come)

Warnings: Fluff, Whump, Humor, bit of spice, slow burn

Word Count: 1,136 | AO3 Link

“Again.”

Puffs of white pass jaggedly through cracked, broken lips. The wind coming down from the north cuts across exposed skin like razors as boots connect with ribs. The sickening thuds are certain to add to the red-stained snow scattered all around and it’ll be minutes before she’s one more body added to the count.

Blinking the eye she can still see from, Ellie Cemoti knows she’s going to die here. As her blurred gaze makes out shapes in the dying light, regret pours like sickly oil through her veins. The hover coach passengers lie skewed in snow drifts in various poses of escape and terror. They never saw hell coming.

A hell she brought upon them.

“If she dies, you’ll reap the punishment.”

“I’m simply making sure we don’t have to hunt her down. Again.”

Contrary to her wishes, her body shudders in the dying light as she looks up into glowing red eyes. His distorted face is one of blue perfection in good sight. His entire race is. After all, he and the man with him are soldiers from the north. Chiss from Csilla with only one objective.

To bring her back.

Legs firmly frozen in the snowdrift, Ellie lays her head and nearly bare torso onto the packed powder drenched red. As the storm rolls in, she quietly petitions the Force to let her die here. Closing her eye, she pleads for release, begs for the end.

She can’t go back.

A surprised growl comes from the Chiss, wariness evident in their harsh language. One shouts before red snow scatters, nearly burying her. Gloves scrap against holsters, more blaster fire fills the air. Her eye opens to see blue flashes, and then…

Silence.

Anticipation hangs heavy in the air replacing the harsh chill of wind. In the far distance, there’s a muffled noise in the snow like footsteps. A few pairs perhaps which means the Chiss are still alive, and oddly don’t approach her. Turning her head slightly reveals a blue figure with a tendril of smoke rising from his forehead and snow crunches next to her.

Struggling against burning in her ribs and lungs, Ellie didn’t think dying involved a shadow hovering over her. Though, the warmth on her back means it’ll be over soon; a fact more bitter than sweet. When she left Csilla a near week ago, she didn’t think that meant death.

But she welcomes it.

Even welcomes the angel of death kneeling next to her in a dark hat and caf-colored eyes gleaming in the sun’s last light.

…֎…

If the storm doesn’t blow over soon, there’ll be no saving her. She was already bad off based on the bruises littering her body, the crimson-colored snow she was mostly buried in, and clothed in what might’ve been a wedding gown painted in her blood.

Poking the fire with a stick, Rex frowns. There’s little hope these tiny flames will keep either of them warm through the night. If he’s shivering with all his facilities still about him, well…

The female currently lies face down with her head tilted to the side in hopes of keeping her breathing. Blood still drips from her nose, but she’s steadily pulling in oxygen. She stopped shuddering since he shed his poncho and wrapped her in it. He’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, because it hasn’t alleviated the reddish-grey color from her skin which had laid on snow far too long.

Leaning back against his loyal girl, Djem, he watches as the krayt shifts her head closer to the female. Every so often, Djem moves closer making him wonder if she’s doing her best to keep this female alive. Those violet eyes, slightly iridescent in the flickering light, have been carefully observing the survivor since they discovered her.

After situating the female in the cave, Rex had returned to inspect the scene. He’s spotted a handful of these blue men in his travels, hunted a few even—but never during the war. He’s seen destruction in their wake, and the passengers of the ill-fated stagecoach are no exception. Their deaths are not just precise, either.

They’re cold calculations.

He’d had to put down two gualamas drawing the coach which had been made lame during the attack. From there, he’d seen to burying each victim and witnessed the methodical thinking in how those further away were shot first, probably as they attempted to flee. Those closer had stayed longer, perhaps thinking that might save them, but they had only bought themselves an hour judging by their skin temperature. Afterward, he’d ladened the two handsome, ebony equines marked with a blue circle on their right flank with scavenged supplies he’ll be able to sell. Once he’d hitched them to Djem, he returned here.

While leaving the Chiss for the buzzards circling.

Pulling off a glove, he blows hot hair across his chilled fingers before reaching under the poncho and brushing smooth, cold skin. He can tell she’s not dead, but the poor thing is so brutally beaten she barely looks human.

Tugging on his glove, he pulls a piece of bantha jerky from his pouch. Rex munches down on the bland ration before tossing the other half to Djem as he casts a glance to the equines. Clomping hooves and soft whinnies make it clear they do not care for his krayt, but to hell with them. Djem’s been with him for three years now, thick and thin, every season. Either he sells these beasts for credits soon, or Djem eats well.

Soft gasps snatch his attention and send panic racing through him.

Rex has seen the deaths of many men, women, and children during the war, but this rings differently. When the Empire took over there were promises of hope in the years following.

Instead, he’s faced only dejection, hate, and tragedy.

To add this female to that list—

What could be described as one good eye—bloodshot to hell—flutters open as she tries to pull in air. Yanking his gloves off, he slips a hand under the poncho again and sets it on her icy shoulder. If she’s going to die, at least she can have the comfort of a being caring about her in this world.

“It’s gonna be okay, Ma’am. We’ll get you to a doctor as soon as the storm lets up.”

Sharp, quick inhales pass through her split, bleeding lips as her head gives a slight shudder. Whether from death, brain injury, or other, he can’t be certain. Instead, his hand gently rubs her back as he hums a soft tune that seems to send her back into unconsciousness.

A soft growl emanates from the krayt before her head shifts closer to the survivor.

Rex continues humming as the wind growls louder outside the cave.

#Cowboy Challenge #captain rex #ct 7567 #kix #star wars #art #clone wars #the clone wars #Captain Rex x OC #old west #wild west #Fluff #Writing #chiss ascendancy #thrawn

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