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halzore · 2 years

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In Solemn Moments.

Hi everyone. This is Late. This was supposed to be done friday. It is now Sunday.

This is a little Rex x Child!reader. Uses gender neutral pronouns, is in the third person from Rex's perspective and it is a request for the lovely @bombshe77

This is slightly off from the prompt you sent me. But i really enjoyed writing from Rex's perspective. Thankyou for sending in the request.

On the off chance someone reads this, feel free to send me more requests! and also leave some feedback, I'd love it lots

~~~

Rex had only been to the Jedi temple a handful of times, all for similar reasons. Rex followed the familiar path to the Jedi War room situated in the heart of the temple. The hydraulic doors hissed as he entered. Kenobi, Windu, Mundi as well as some of his brothers were in the room, staring at a giant hologram centred in the middle. General Kenobi turned to face the Captain.

“Ah, Rex. Anakin did say he was sending you in his place. How did the latest siege on Felucia go?” Rex moved into the centre of the room, plugging his data disk into the central control panel. He felt his heart clench as the battle statistics were beamed up. He saw the number of days on mission, the number of brothers lost. It was not an easy campaign for the 501st.

Rex took a breath to centre himself, he was stronger than this pain. He had to be right now, steeling himself, he began to give his report. He took himself back to the dusty pollen-filled planet, to how the commando droids ambushed his men, how they were pinned down for weeks underneath heavy droid artillery, how as they gained an inch of land on one front they seemed to lose a mile on another. Not even the creative hi-jinks of Ahsoka and Anakin could save them this time. It was another loss on Felucia and another devastating loss for the 501st since Umbara.

Before he knew it the briefing was over, he found himself in the hallway, one foot after another, retracing his path from earlier. He remembered Cody putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder after his speech was over. He remembered the look of sympathy Kenobi had offered him before General Mundi went on to talk strategy of how to recoup lost ground on the planet. It was all for nothing, the deaths of his brothers, of the people relying on him to keep them safe. Clones were supposed to withstand this kind of loss, but since Umbara, nothing had been quite the same for Rex.

Rex’s feet stopped themselves at an archway. It was ornate and cracked from the endurances of history, a kind of beauty unfamiliar to Rex. The archway allowed for a golden shaft of light to enter the hallway, its like the light was calling him toward, beckoning him with some unknown pull. Rex turned it over for a second, he shouldn’t be here, he should head straight back to the barracks, but apart of him was too tired to care, too cold.

He never quite realised how beautiful Coruscant could be. The Jedi gardens wound through the temple, around corners, a water feature being tended to by an elderly Jedi as a group of younglings dug in the garden beds looking for worms and other creepy crawlies, their laughter wafting through the peaceful air. Rex meandered down the pale cobbled path and came to stop in front of a tree. Its brilliant leaves littered the pavement making a soft bed for Rex as he sat at the base of it. The ombre oranges of the leaves were nothing like he had seen on any of his campaigns, so delicately gentle in its simplicity but strong and resolute in its colour. Rex put his head in his hands and took a strong deep breath in, his eyes rolled shut and he let the peaceful air roll over him, willing it to take away the pit that had made its home in his stomach.

When Rex closed his eyes, time seemed to stop. It all just felt like an unruly storm of all his worst memories and darkest fears. He felt like he was slipping slowly into his own darkness.

He felt a small hand on his forearm. He looked up. A small face looked back up at him. “You’re not a Jedi.” The kid was so small, smaller than Ahsoka when Rex first met her.

“I’m not.” Rex replied. The kid seemed to stare into his eyes so intently, a watchful curiousness interrogating his psyche.

“You’re sad.” The child said matter-of-factly. “What’s wrong?”

Rex struggled, this tiny Jedi was so untouched by the horrors of the galaxy, holding so much care in their small but intense gaze.

“Nothing’s wrong kid.” Rex was trying his best to reassure the kid and convince himself of the statement. Rex took a breath, looking down at the youngling.

“You know, Master Yoda says the trees call to you when you’re sad. That’s why I’m here.”

Rex looked at the kid with concern. “Are you sad?”

The kid nuzzled underneath Rex’s arm and settled their head in the crook of his shoulder looking up to the starship studded skies of Coruscant. “No. But if you’re here, you’re sad, and everyone needs a friend when they are sad.”

“Yeah, they do kid.” A small smile formed on Rex’s face the weight on his side shifted to snuggle in closer. The youngling was warm and safe beside him, reminding him of when, as cadets, they would all curl up together after the Kaminoans had disappeared. The child squirmed to face him once again.

“What’s your name Mr. Soldier?” Rex had never been addressed as such and his heart softened as he went to reply.

“My name’s Rex, what’s yours?”

“My name is Y/N.”

“That’s a very nice name.” Kamino had never trained him on how to speak to little ones, neither had Ahsoka. He hoped he was doing okay.

“Can I tell you a secret Rex?” Rex was slightly shocked by the question. He nodded in the affirmative and the child to his side kept speaking. “I was lying to you earlier.” They left a beat. “I am sad.” Rex’s heart sank, the child continued. “I’m sad because there is so much pain in the galaxy, and I can’t fix it. I wish I could make everyone happy. But I can be happy for those near me who need it, and make them smile.”

Rex pondered the youngling’s words. Even miniature Jedi sounded like little oracles. “Well Y/N, I think you made me a bit happier.” Rex offered.

“I think that’s all we can do. Especially right now. You’ll get through this Rex, I believe in you.” The youngling closed their eyes and relaxed completely into the clone beside them.

“Thankyou for sitting with me Y/N.” Rex’s mind began to quiet for what felt like the first time in months. The wind blew cooly against his face as the youngling’s chest began to rise and fall rhythmically. A soft otherworldly comfort began to engulf Rex, his own breathing slowed as he let his head rest on the trunk of the tree. Maybe this place called to him for a reason, he wasn’t a Jedi, but he could have sworn he could feel it. Feel it healing him, warming him from his persistent winter. An orange golden leaf fell from the tree, skittering down gently through the wind and landing on Rex’s shoulder.

Maybe this is what Ahsoka meant when she said she was one with the force and the force was with her.

For the first time in a long time, he felt at peace.

#tcw #captain rex #rex x reader #rex x child!reader #halzore writes #clone wars imagine #the clone wars #501st legion

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pro-fangirls-unsocial-life · 2 years

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 anon I love you

Ok...

Love Me Like There's No Tomorrow This is one is one of my favorites that I have every written. It's not as good as some of my other ones, but I absolutely love it just because of how much emotion I had while writing it and the emotions that I still get while reading it.

Sweet Nothings My very first fic. It is absolutely not the best, but it still holds such a special place in my heart because it is what started my on the path of writing. I might go back and rewrite it one day, but even though it is no where near perfect and there are a ton of mistakes, I still like it the way it is. I just makes me so happy any time I re-read it because I think about what led to it and what it inspired me to do.

Overload I love this one so much. I got such a burst of inspiration when looking at the art that I based this fic off of and I was able to use my own experiences with sensory overload to drive this fic forward. And, I think that it really shows how much my writing improved over time. I still go back and re-read this one and think of how far I have come. Plus, it is very cathartic for me.

The Duty of a Captain How could I make this list and not include Doc on it? Even though I have not uploaded a new chapter in a while, I am always thinking about this story. I know where I want it to go and I have so many things planned for you guys. I truly love this fic and that I have created a completely new story with my characters. I do regret posting chapters before I finished the fic, since I like to finish a fic first and then post chapters, but I think that this fic is giving me a very good learning opportunity and it is pushing my abilities as a writer.

Goodbye. This one is something that I just feel in my soul. It destroyed me while writing it and I have been told it has done the same to my readers. The Clone Wars were such a big part of my childhood and seeing it end just destroyed me. That last scene at the gravesite still makes me cry and I just get such a feeling of dread any time I think about it. But in the best way. I think that this was just my way of seeing it through a different perspective.

(bonus) Medical Canvas This fic is where I think I took a huge leap in my writing ability. I love it so much and it inspired me to start a bunch of WIPs with other clone troopers with tattoos (Wolffe and Rex are currently in the works). I think that I really got in depth in my writing while making this fic and it is still one of my favorites to this day.

Thank you so much for sending this in!! I honestly loved this!!

Tag List: @snippy-tano @writer1@simping-for-fives @just-some-girl-92 @lightning-wolffe @halzore @morganas-pendragons @marvel-starwars-nerd @ct7567329 @a-dorin @vesperstalksclones @fuckyeahbeskar @rowansparrow @pinkiemme

#pro speaks #my writing #pros writing #love me like theres no tomorrow #sweet nothings #overload #the duty of a captain #goodbye.#medical canvas #clone trooper kix #hunter #captain rex #clone trooper doc #clone trooper jesse #tcw #i cant think of other tags but i know im missing some

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years

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Hi! I have been admiring your work from the sidelines for a while now. I go by She/Her, could I ask for a Star Wars ship? I’m 5’6, a jazz musician, I am really confident when I’m comfortable but am anxious wreck the rest of the time. I’ve chin length blond hair and I am brutally honest to people. I procrastibake (yes, bake) like a pro (I’m always carrying biscuits for my classes or ensembles), but always get my shit done. Oh and I cry all the time, especially at wholesome times. Thankyou 😊

i ship you with captain rex!

hey hi hello i’m so glad that you came off the sidelines, love!! now i thought of this before i even noticed your pfp so please don’t think i’m pandering hehe

i don’t remember where i saw this hc but rex is such a big jazz man, like he has a whole ass playlist of just jazz that he’ll have playing in his quarters while he does documentation on datapads, and even when he’s at home with you just winding down i’m not calling it jizz fuck you george lucas

if you do public performances he will do anything he can to go and support you. will be the boyfriend who makes sure they don’t break any etiquette rules and be as supportive as possible. your fave flowers will be bought (or he’ll buy you your favorite snack if you’re allergic to flowers) and presented with a soft smile and a “i’m proud of you”

will do absolutely everything he can to make you comfortable around his bros, and once you find that confidence around them, it just makes his heart melt. you’re joking with them and sharing stories and seeing the most important people in his life getting along makes him beyond happy

you two are blondes that get shit done, and he loves that. the fact that you’re still getting things done (even w your proceastibaking, which is a really good word and i love it) is *chef’s kiss*. competency is one of his kinks and being with someone that gets things done is super great for him

your baking is battalion-renowned. you’d send rex off with sweets for him and the boys and they’d be gone within the day. it got to where you would just have goodie bags for the ones you knew and send them with rex when he would leave on another campaign. one time fives called rex out for having more in his bag than the others, then learned his lesson the next time when rex confiscated his goodie bag. don’t speak against the captain or his cyare was a lesson learned real quick

#captain rex x reader #captain rex #blue jay celebrates (almost) 800 joining the flock #jj writes ships #halzore

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littlespaceporgs · 3 years

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Birthday celebration!

howdy howdy lets get rowdy!!

I'm writing this on the 20th, knowing that chances are I'll probably post this after that, because lol deadlines are dumb.

For those who are new, here's some handy links: masterlist taglist

Anywho, we're here to celebrate. what you may ask? well there's three things!

1. I've just turned 20, on the 20th of June no less!

2. I've surpassed 220 followers!

3. And I've been writing star wars and fics in general for over a year now!

Wooohooooo! Now on to the actual celebration!

I'll be doing a 20 drabbles in 20 days, from July 1st to July 20th, celebrating my many milestones! You have until the 30th of June to get requests in!

On the off chance that I get more than 20 requests, they will be put into a random generator and thats how I will pick them. Alternatively if I dont get enough I'll do the same thing. Pretty much everything is on the table, you can request a you!POV or a first person!POV and sith!reader, sith Jedi, senator!reader/character, pretty much anything, I will be having some fun with these.

Now request info is under the cut \/

List of characters (god I just need to make one list I stg):

Anakin Skywalker

Obi wan Kenobi

Ahsoka Tano

Plo Koon

Kit Fisto

Captain Rex

Commander Cody

ARC Trooper Fives

Luke Skywalker

Leia Organa (however it’s a little difficult for me to write, because my name is also Leah, please keep that in mind 😅)

And finally, the prompts! (Full disclosure, I found these on Pinterest so I have no idea where they’re from):

Fluff/Angst

- “I’m so tired."

- "Don't get up. I'm comfortable like this."

- "Please stay. I'd like some company"

- "Could I get a hug?'

- "I just want to be close."

- "Don’t do that. That's dumb, I'm serious, don't do it."

- "It's cute that you tried to protect me, but you're like a foot shorter than me, you know?"

- "Don't touch them!"

- "You're an idiot. Honestly, why are we friends?"

Responses to "we have a problem"

- "No. You have a problem, I have an idiot who keeps getting into one."

- "Gimme a sec. I'm not drunk enough for this yet"

- "And its another Tuesday. What's your point? "

- "If you mean the flaming pillar, that's the solution to our other problem"

- "You call it a problem. I call it a solution"

Enemies to lovers:

- “You were supposed to die!"

- “How the fuck did you survive that?”

- “Why does the galaxy hate meeeee?"

- "I really want you to die right about now"

- "So you're saying that you want me, a villain, to help you catch another villain? That makes no sense."

- “Are you blushing? Gross."

- "Don't talk to me. Someone might think we are friends."

- "Hey, you can't be an asshole to them, only I can.”

Now request away!

Tagging some lovelies (sorry most of you are getting in a second post because I've updated my taglist): @queenevac @raeshin @valkyrieofthehighfae @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @mcu-padawan @hounding-around @captainrexstan @leias-left-hair-bun @anakin-danvers @obirain @onabouteverything @kybacrystal @pirate-king-hondo @venomous-ko @shellminded @jadetheaverage @halzore - sorry if I missed anyone!

#star wars #star wars x reader #tcw #ahsoka tano #kit fisto #plo koon #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #luke skywalker #leia organa #fanfics #the-studious-porg #studious-porg's birthday #20 fics in 20 days #plo koon x reader #captain rex #commander cody #arc trooper fives

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a-lil-perspective · 3 years

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Are you taking requests? I saw the post you made about Hunter with the Zygerrian whip, and I was wondering if you could write something about Hunter saving the reader who was kidnapped and sold to the Zygerrian slave traders?

Your writing is amazing by the way! ❤️

Angel, thank you so much for your patience on this one. Okay. I am incredibly excited. This is a Hunter x Reader fic but tis a small slice of the overall story; it is so much more than that *looks at the word count, laughs nervously* a lot more than that. Y’all know I don’t do anything by halves. I can feel your collective eye rolls at that, but bear with me. There’s a lot of moving parts here. Also a really neat connection to a canon character that I am so stoked about. You’re going to want to buckle up for this one because it’s a ride. I will admit I’m actually extremely proud of this fic; I love the way it turned out. It was approached very scrupulously with a lot of new perspectives and executions and I hope it shows. It feels good to share a big phat fic again. Also this is the first time I’ve never had a title for a fic what is happening. Feedback for this baby is very much appreciated; I’m really curious to know what you guys think.

[Warnings: Depictions of Slavery/Oppression, Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Swearing and Suggestiveness]

Finally using my tag list again: @shadow-hyder @starflyer-104 @thegoodbatch @halzore @fxndxmxnxce @karpasia @kriffingunlucky @mangoberry43 @mackstrut @godhateskyleigh @pearlyarmor @razzlefrazzum @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @batch-baddie @kaitou2417 @jedi-mando @jonamore @j-ma26-rb @im-just-earbuds-and-a-notebook @skippyhopperwisdom (Tag List is always open/updatable:))

———

“I can’t wait to get off this rock.”

Hunter was speaking for all of them in that moment as they trudged through the marshy outskirts of yet another backwater world. Recon had been sorely uneventful, the topography marked largely by forestry with rural but thriving colonies to only sparsely populate. After several rotations the hum drum grew arduous, and even Hunter in all his inclinations for peace was ready to pull out. It was, perhaps, too quiet; that familiar itch of action came back to agitate before long. The Republic had withdrawn from their frivolous propaganda efforts days ago, meanwhile the Bad Batch straggled because they fell enrapt with the flora and fauna.

‘They’ meaning ‘Tech’.

Hunter interrupted the newest spiel in asking, “Have you heard from Specs yet?”

“Maybe she’s gone to live up to her name,” Crosshair snickered.

Specs indeed lived up to her name.

‘Specs’, a rather eccentric derivative of the word ‘inspects’, there wasn’t a nickname more fitting for a woman who constantly assessed her everything. She had captivated the Bad Batch with a scrupulousness that rivaled even Tech’s; she didn’t back down around them—in fact, their moxie only seemed to drive her own. She was an addition that perpetually set their team ablaze. Adamant to follow her own path, do her own thing—oftentimes in a literal sense, such as when she’d deviate from the group (much in the same mannerisms as Tech and most of the time as his accomplice) like she had earlier that day. But the information she’d reliably acquisition each time proved invaluable, and so nobody objected to it.

“No, but I’m sure she is on her way back as we speak,” Tech reasoned.

“She missed the rendezvous time,” Hunter crossed his arms. “Not like her. If she got held up she would’ve communicated.”

“There’s an unusual static here,” Tech mused, eyes cast to his devices. “It’s intermittent, but it’s affecting even my sufficient company of frequencies.”

“It’s spotty; like jammed?”

Tech hesitated as if Hunter brought up what he was trying to avoid.

Tech focused on rebooting his systems. “It’s beginning to appear that way.” A moment passed, and he attempted to patch through. “Specs, come in.”

Silence.

“I’m not picking her up on my sensors,” Tech relayed.

“You don’t think she just... disappeared, do you?”

“There’s more to it, Wrecker,” Hunter stroked his chin. “There has to be.”

“Technically speaking there is no presence of her whatsoever,” Tech unhelpfully clarified. “I’ve managed to run a full planetary scan. Her signature comes up empty.”

“She’s gotta be here—Mardy is still here,” Wrecker protested.

“What about the ship we saw land some hours back?” Hunter addressed, having come to ignore Wrecker’s peculiar nickname for their own. “Did we ever get a reading on the vessel?”

The thought must’ve reminded Tech, as he straightened energetically and pulled up a holo-documented image from earlier. It paid to capture footage of one’s surroundings, and it was times like these Hunter could truly appreciate his youngest brother’s thoroughness. Tech zoomed in, eyes narrowing behind his thick lenses. “There is a symbol here on the starboard, but I need a moment to match it in the databanks—”

“Zygerrian.”

Everyone shot up to Crosshair, who rolled his eyes at the theatrics.

“Don’t ask me how I know.”

Hunter thought the cryptic plaster was weird, but not unprecedented, of his sniper brother.

“So what does that mean? What are they?” Wrecker queried.

Crosshair’s jaw tightened. “Slavers.”

***

“Look at the traffic of this place...”

“That’s a slave empire for you, Wrecker,” Hunter joined in gawking out the viewport at the ship congestion and mass of planet filling it. Cursory research pointed them with ease to the planet Kadavo as being the centralization of slavery in that part of the Galaxy. Seemed like a good place to start as any. With the disappearance of Specs and the presence of slavers almost in sync, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

“Shall I start wreaking havoc on their communications system?”

“No, Tech, not yet,” Hunter said. “We have to get clearance to land, first.” He hailed a frequency, and sighed. “Time for a cover story.”

“Selling or buying?”

“Selling,” Hunter answered. “We have a small cargo from off-world.”

“We do?” Tech hissed.

Hunter cast his little brother a smirk, earning flared nostrils in return. “Transmitting clearance codes,” he signaled to Tech who, impressively, multitasked a glare and the code transference in that moment.

“Proceed to platform E11,” the regional voice instructed. “You will be met with appraisers and guided through the transaction.”

Hunter offered a grunt and disconnected from the channel. Immediate company was to be expected. He turned and stopped short at the sight of Tech: arms crossed, boot tapping erratically as he crested a tantrum.

“You’re not thinking of putting me up for auction,” he chased his surmise.

Crosshair chuckled, drawn to making a deliberate appraisal of Tech. “I think we should sell him.”

“They wouldn’t be able to afford me!”

Wrecker bellowed with laughter, giving Crosshair a congratulatory slap on the back for effectively riling up the little genius.

“We’re not selling anyone,” Hunter severed, though he’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t came to him. “It’s just to get us through the front door. Now focus, we’re going in.”

“Yes, get on with it Tech, Hunter’s worried about his lady.”

Hunter shot daggers at Crosshair.

Bastard, don’t act like you’re not.

He knew she’d be fine. Specs could more than handle herself. She was the most tenacious person he’d ever met outside his brothers.

But he couldn’t shake the icy trepidations building in the pit of his gut, and the way it morphed into a smoldering rage at the thought of those slavers... of them touching her in any way...

Hunter shook his head to jostle the horrendous thoughts.

The ratio of buyers-to-vendors was split fairly even judging by the amount of traffic entering and leaving the atmosphere simultaneously. It was a steady train all the way through. Tech followed the other vessels in tandem as he began a descent to the designated platform.

“I’m re-establishing her signature in order for you to pinpoint upon landing,” Tech informed with his nose buried. “She is here,” he confirmed after a moment. “You’ll have a limited time window, but I’ll be able to direct you along the way.”

Tech would be his technical readouts while Crosshair would be his eyes in higher places.

Hunter dared to let a glimmer of hope flourish.

“Wrecker, you stay back with Tech—”

“And you’ll let me know if any heads need to be bashed, right?”

Hunter chuckled at the youthful fervor. “I’m almost tempted to cause a ruckus just for you, buddy.”

“Aww Sarge, I knew ya loved me.”

“But he loves his—”

“There’s E11,” Tech banked left towards the empty platform.

“—more.”

Crosshair was walking on thin fekking ice.

Suddenly the backup plan of selling a brother was far more enticing with Crosshair at the focal point.

The Marauder’s hydraulics hissed in fanfare upon the completed landing sequence. Hunter took a deep breath for not the first time during the trip.

“Alright, everyone good on the plan?”

“Affirmative,” Tech gave a succinct nod before resuming his systematic jamming, tapping furiously atop his vambrace. Crosshair simply slipped his rangefinder down and brandished his rifle.

“And now, the disguise,” Wrecker cracked his knuckles with a wicked grin, marching past Hunter to the bay doors. The ramp lowered and Hunter smiled to himself. There was minuscule commotion, a distinct thud, and Hunter counted seconds before Wrecker came hauling an unconscious Zygerrian up the steps with not a sweat on his brow. He tossed the armored body at Hunter’s feet. “Time to play dress up, Sarge.”

***

“You look ridiculous.”

Fighting to contain his hair and his dignity inside a helmet that gave him fekking feline ears, Hunter was about to tell Crosshair where he could shove his input before Tech began, “Sources say these are some of the busiest transaction times of the year for their cartel. The odds of them exhausting their attention or resources to you is highly unlikely. With your tracking abilities you will be able to slip in undetected with minimal resistance if any. They aren’t keeping watch for meager single-prisoner breakouts—if any. The actual occurrences of them have been, well, never.” Tech brought up the holomap he’d procured of the planet and pressed a few sequences on his forearm before adding, “but I’m tracking all Zygerrian personnel within your proximity as you move along, just in case.”

“Thanks, Tech,” Hunter nodded appreciatively, taking a moment to bask in his brotherly feelings before gently filing them away to focus on the objective at hand. He gave himself a once-over. Crosshair’s insult held more truth than he cared to admit—he looked as ridiculous as he felt. It was gaudy and fit in all the wrong places. The scent was barbaric, and Hunter tried not to think about how much bodily fluid the owner of the ensemble had a hand in spilling. It felt condemning somehow, stepping into the shoes if only under pretense. A distinct discomfort crept up him, and he forced down his protesting sensory complex and melded into the foreign weight. Comfort was a luxury.

“I’ll be back soon.” He stepped to the Marauder’s opening, patting the hull. “Lock her up and wait for my call. Don’t open the door for strangers.”

Tech gave a conspiratorial smile. “On your orders, Sarge.”

Hunter hopped down and quickly covered distance away into the nearest crowd. Once successfully blended in the sea, he activated his hidden comm. “Okay Cross, you know what to do.”

He could almost hear the sniper’s lofty smile.

“Disappear.”

***

Hunter trekked along, and for all his preparation, the atmosphere still proved to be too much.

The sound of whips cracking the unfortunate, the little electromagnetic jolts that coursed through his veins each time, the orders and the amplified shrieking, the compactness of the streets, the intermingling scent of blood and sweat and dirty greed...

He only picked up the pace from there, summoning utmost subtlety in every step. He took note of the other guards’ gait, and worked fervently to mirror it, brandishing his weapon for extra compelling rights.

The closer he progressed towards the holding facilities empty handed, the suspicious the glances became, leaving him to make haste. The longer he spent wandering aimlessly out in the open the more susceptible to questioning he was, and that wouldn’t do. Hunter preferred to avoid any takedowns, however silent they may be—stashing away bodies each time would only slow him down, and leaving a trail of them wasn’t an option.

So he did the only feasible thing.

Played the part of a slaver.

He snatched up the nearest slave by their binders, dragging them to their wobbly—and small—feet and inserting them along his path. His heart was pounding. This was not part of the plan. He didn’t even know what the plan was.

“Hunter, what’re you—”

Hunter cut off the call.

The whip seemed to grow heavier in his hand as he tugged the frail person along. He had no idea what came next for either of them, and what was usually an alienated fear sedimented something deep in his core right then. In the wake of his erratic actions he studied the half-starved victim.

Dank farrik. A child.

A human female who couldn’t have been older than seven or eight with dark brown, almost inky black hair that curtained around her waist and looked to have not seen a toothed comb in innumerable rotations. Wide but succumbing eyes and a very evident scream lodged in her throat signified a practiced relinquish. Overall docile. His blood boiled at the amount of conditioning her mannerisms denoted to. Against his better judgement, Hunter allowed himself to wonder just how long she’d been enslaved.

It only augmented his fury.

She cowered under his stare, but kept a dejected walk with what was probably faraway thoughts of home, of her warm bed, of whether or not mom and dad were still looking for her. Wondering what abhorrent thing would put their hands on her next—

Hunter was buzzing with adrenaline as he slowed just a fraction to avoid any attention.

“Listen kid,” he spoke lowly, squeezing her gangly upper arm. “I can get you out of here—but you have to do exactly as I say, got it?”

The unamused, wonderfully charactered expression she tossed back at him made his heart leap. Kid still had some spirit.

Okay, so that was stupid; of course she would do exactly as was ordered. Subservience—probably all she’d ever known.

Hunter’s eyes bore into hers and he realized a startling kindredness there; the one thing he and this girl had in common.

Being child slaves.

“There isn’t much time,” a sweat began to form in his hairline. Curse this fekking gear. “I have some friends—one of them I’m here to rescue—and I have a ship, with the best pilot. We’re gonna get you out of here. Okay?”

The girl tensed in his grip.

“It’ll be okay, I promise,” Hunter activated his comm. “But I can’t send you back alone, too suspicious. So I’m gonna have you wait somewhere safe. In the most capable hands.”

“Crosshair here.”

“Cross,” Hunter took a deep breath. “I’m sending you some company.”

***

His thoughts were racing.

He knew Crosshair would be royally pissed—or, was—and he’d have to apologize later. The longer they spent on this Maker-forsaken planet, the less of a time window he had for the rescue before they transferred Specs to who knows where and he’d never see her again. He’d already devoted enough precious time to other—but just as equally pressing—matters.

But Crosshair and babysitting—terrible idea?

It was too early to tell.

He approached the centripetal point of the slave housing Tech had directed him through. A17, read the heading of the correct one. The thought of there being so many that they required numbers—it nearly made Hunter keel over with disgust. According to Tech’s current assessments, this part of the complex wasn’t near as crawling as the others, but Hunter figured that was subject to change.

He made note of the guards stationed just off to his right as he entered an aisle after meandering through several. In good timing, an electrostaff suddenly crossed in front of him, hindering his path ahead.

“Clearance?” The nearest Zygerrian hissed.

“I’m here for a slave transfer,” Hunter supplied in his best impression that was still Bantha-shit at best.

The Zygerrian’s nose twitched, and he stepped closer to Hunter, snarling, “You’re not authorized.”

“I’m here,” Hunter drilled his eyes into the slaver, “for a slave transfer.” He didn’t want to use force to get through but he would without so much as batting an eye. His blood was boiling for a fight by that point, anyway.

A low growl came from the Zygerrian. His eyes narrowed to slits. His pupils dilated. Hunter did not waiver. He felt an influence push upward from the depths of his mind, and he summoned all of his will to reinforce.

The Zygerrian muttered something inaudible and stepped aside.

Hunter tried not to let his surprise show through what little of his face peeked out. He swallowed, and straightened, gliding right past the guard without a hitch. His jaw screwed impossibly tight. He wasn’t letting his defense down for a moment, even as he wound the corner away. He appreciated trumping in standoffs, but they usually baffled him as to how he ever actually managed to do so.

“You’re close, Hunter. Four more holds down and on the right. Access code is 6-3-5-7.”

Hunter approached the caged door and punched in the sequence.

The buzz of denial and a red display startled him.

“Retina scan required.”

Dank farrik.

It wouldn’t work on him—why would it?

He turned back in the direction of the guard.

He made it in several blurred strides, and with deft hands performed a quick sever of the spinal cord. The guard crumpled silently into Hunter’s arms, and he quickly dragged him back to the door with barely suppressed heaves. The bastards were heavier than they looked. His stomach was churning; it was a risky move even despite Tech’s real-time signatures. He was nearly jumping out of his skin at the possibility of discovery.

He hauled the subdued guard up to eye level with the scanner, yanking off his helmet and peeling open his lid. A wave of infrared light passed over the humanoid face. The green light of approval to follow left Hunter sighing heavily as he let the guard slip to the floor to rot in eternal slumber. Good riddance. He snatched up a cylinder key from his belt for good measure.

The door swooshed open, and Hunter stepped inside to the sight of a curled up victim. Clothes tattered, looking worse for wear, but watching the rise and fall of her chest... alive.

He swallowed the tempest of emotions expanding in the back of his throat.

“Ma’am, you’re being transferred. There are some goons missing you.”

You looked up bleary-eyed at the disguised slaver in the doorway. Despite your bone-settling fatigue, precious relief managed to tug at your lips.

“How did you make it past with that shit accent?” You grimaced at the way your voice had been reduced to a croak.

“I happen to be very convincing.”

“Could have fooled me,” you smirked wearily and Hunter returned it as he dragged a body inside your cell before stepping close and kneeling in front of you. He tried to keep his features in check, not let his distress over the shock collar show.

He couldn’t help it.

“How’d you earn this,” he quieted, fingers ghosting the restraint. You smiled wryly.

“Let’s just say I don’t take orders very well.”

“Guess we’ve been rubbing off on you, huh,” he brushed the mussed hair from your face apologetically.

“Maybe, too much.” You peeled yourself from the floor, barely suppressing a groan. Hunter helped you the rest of the way to your feet. Your legs were untrustworthy, and Hunter stood firm as you braced your shackled hands along his front. He held you gingerly.

“I’ve got you.”

“You always do.”

Except for when you let her get taken.

“Stop that.“

“Stop what?”

You gave that cute little tilt of your head in spite of the collar. “Blaming yourself.”

You weren’t called ‘Specs’ for no reason.

More and more, Hunter felt he understood this better than anybody.

Because you understood him.

His eyes glued to the sickly purple blooming along your right cheekbone, spotlighted in your new position. You watched his face scrunch in anger underneath the headgear.

“Hey...” you moved your hands to his forearm. “It’s okay.”

Hunter’s face sobered as his eyes resumed their dance over you. He inserted the key into your handcuffs. “I’m having Tech run a full scan on you when we get back.”

“He’ll be thrilled.” The binders fell to the ground with a clang. You rubbed at your wrists. “Thank you.”

“We have to remove this,” his hands hovered over the equipment around your neck, unsure of its design. In wisdom he wasn’t feeling, he pulled out a scanner and contacted Tech.

“Talk to me vod; how do I get this off.”

There was a pregnant pause as Tech overlooked the information sent. His voice came back unmistakably on edge. “This particular collar is designed to explode if removed improperly. Do not pull or pry on it in any way. Does her neck still have mobility?”

“Barely,” Hunter stressed.

“That will have to do until I can work on the intricacies—it will take some time, and there are guards nearing your position.”

“We can’t hang out here forever,” Hunter grumbled knowingly. His eyes softened as he looked to you. “You okay to walk?

You nodded as best you could with the collar. It would serve as a good guise until you made it outside, anyway. “By walk you mean run.”

He chuckled to himself. “That predictable, huh?”

Even in the dismal lighting, your eyes sparkled with brilliance. “Just to me.”

Hunter took your hand, giving a gentle tug. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to call you my ‘knight in shining armor’?” You teased softly.

“Well if you did,” he stopped with you at the threshold. “I prefer ‘Commando’ armor. Shiny’s not my thing.”

“That’s good.” You fought back the swelling urge to remove his helmet and ruffle his hair. “I like you better a little rough around the edges.”

Hunter opened his mouth to speak but swiveled his head around, seemingly reminding himself of where you both were. When his gaze met yours again he smirked.

“Different time and place.”

“Sir, yes Sir.”

“Yes, there are children present.”

Hunter leaned away from you, wishing to know Crosshair’s exact location in that moment to direct a crude gesture to.

But of course, the kid.

Hunter peered out from the doorway, and guided you briskly past the seemingly endless rows of cells. He willed his eyes forward on the journey back that time. The temptation of opening each one, and the way he never did, would forever haunt him.

With the reminder of guards nearing your position, he brought out his prop that was that wretched slaving tool, supplying his free hand with it and wondering to what depths of hell the soulless bastards who drove these went to.

To your credit, you chuckled at the sight. “Been on the business end of those. Ten-out-of-ten do not recommend.”

Wrong thing to say.

Hunter must not have realized his attempt at a balled fist was crushing your hand.

“Hunter, let go.”

Hunter knew what that meant.

He let go of your hand and his hate.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, bringing his hand up instead to encircle your upper arm. As foretold, a guard duo passed seconds later and Hunter gave a perfunctory nod that was reciprocated in total part.

“Told you I’m convincing,” he murmured loftily once out of earshot.

“Uh-huh. The glaring face tat has ‘em hooked for sure. Same with the red on your forehead.”

Hunter huffed indignantly. “Hey, the bandana stays on. That’s my lucky charm.”

You couldn’t help wanting to test that claim—both parts.

Despite clearing the guards, Hunter gave a final glance down both lengths of the corridor before ushering you down a new one. You eyed his mannerisms curiously, the way he’d stop every few feet, engage in a murmur and then secure the way. You suddenly tilted your head up towards the shafts running along each side of the ceiling and grinned.

“Crosshair’s in the vents, isn’t he?”

“With company, no less,” Hunter spared a moment of focus to smirk at you, watching the way your eyes widened.

He summarized the unexpected come about of the newest member.

“So we’re adopting,” you teased, inwardly touched by Hunter’s compassion and earning yourself a chuckle.

“Not us; Crosshair.”

You nearly pealed with laughter until Hunter suddenly cupped his hand to your mouth and yanked you behind the nearest wall, holstering the whip and pulling you flush to his chest at the sound of several footsteps approaching. You listened for the attachment of guards to pass, silencing the hammer of your heart up against Hunter’s stiff armor.

“Coast is clear,” he whispered after a moment, thumbing at your lip and stepping out from behind the spot. He hated all this sneaking around just as much as the others, but he was far more equipped with the tolerance to do so out of all of them. “Almost there.”

You nudged him, and he stopped. When cast a quizzical glance, you jerked your head to the gun on his belt. “You know I don’t go empty handed.”

Hunter smiled wryly, handing you the gun. “And what am I supposed to use?”

“Hey, I left you the whip.”

“Outstanding.”

“Like you’ve never wanted to use one before.”

An inscrutable smirk raised Hunter’s features. “Under different circumstances.” He braced himself. Traveling back to the Marauder was going to attract far more company than coming in had, and he tried to prepare for the impending heat. He breathed. “You ready?”

“Was about to ask you the same thing—duck.” Hunter’s eyes blew wide as he obeyed and you squeezed the trigger. You were surprised by the kickback; those babies had some power. The slaver at the receiving end of your blast flew into the nearest wall with a satisfying crack.

“Nice,” Hunter drawled. “You always did like attention.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can’t imagine who I got that from.”

An attachment immediately burst from the far end of the corridor and you booked it with Hunter out, letting him lead the way as he based your travels off of the less occupied routes Tech had mapped for him. Customers and traders alike scrambled in the streets like womp rats to avoid the uproar. The merchants were the first to recover at the sight of escaping credits, joining the hunt like a hungry pack of wolves, to your dismay.

Hunter found himself missing their marksman’s company right about then; the fact that their pursuers weren’t being picked off like cherries left him to speculate the sniper was long gone—as he should be.

A bolt nearly glanced your shoulder as you fired your own volley back and took another sharp turn that brought the Havoc Marauder into blessed view.

“Tech, hope you kept those engines warm ‘cause we’re coming in hot!” Hunter shouted, the blaze of his whip arcing out with a loud thwack towards the enclosing slavers, seizing any with a slow reaction time.

“I see stealth worked out splendidly for you.”

“What—you still bitter about the whole ‘selling you’?” Hunter panted. “I wasn’t actually gonna—!”

“Don’t worry Sarge!” Wrecker interjected. “We gotchu.”

The Marauder ascended to a hover, and as you closed the distance the ramp lowered and there peeked Wrecker out with a massive gun. Where in the kriffin’ hell did he get that—

“You think the sniper’s shooting was good, kid, get a load of this!” Wrecker grinned at the girl tucked safely next to him as he unleashed a barrage down at the pursuers, his absurd jollies growing with each body that fell. The girl was mesmerized, he was certain.

Blaster fire thundered in your ears. The Marauder began a desperate climb, and Hunter barked at you to jump as he clashed whips with the nearest guard who’d advanced far too close for comfort. You propelled yourself upward with a quick flail and connected smoothly with Wrecker’s hands, with him promptly reeling you up and inside.

Hunter fended off a pulsing strike to his waist, shaking the proximity of it from his spine as he also leapt up and Wrecker hauled him inside with practiced ease. Tech shut the hatch and rocketed the ship upward in his usual crazed fancy.

The skylanes grew addled at the presence of a ship barreling through like a bat out of hell, but Hunter figured that was their problem as Tech’s fingers danced across the console, pulled a lever, and the comforting blue lines of hyperspace enveloped them in an impeccably timed jump.

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

You worked to control your breathing, the tightness of the collar fully beginning to settle in. You swallowed a choked sound and eyed Hunter’s disheveled getup: his helmet lopsided—which he exasperatedly shoved off—and chinks in the expensive armor that would’ve adorned him nicely were not for the negative connotations behind it.

You let out a breathy laugh. “You make a terrible slaver, Sergeant.”

He managed a grin at the compliment as he held his bandana with one hand and swiped at his forehead with the other. “Never been my style.”

Tech was the first to react, shooting up and retrieving both a medkit and various gadgets before approaching you with a reassuring smile. He settled around behind you. “It will take me a bit to work on this, but I’ll have it off of you soon.”

‘A bit’ for Tech amounted to several minutes max—which was unsurprising overall, given the nature of his technological prowess. He alternated between the back of the collar and the front, rotating out various tools and his tech in sequential step. Wrecker spectated the entire time, questions and suggestions and offers of lent strength bubbling on his tongue as he simply settled for pacing back and forth along the ship’s length.

The restraint fell heavily from your neck, and your breaths instantly came lighter. Tech’s shoulders visibly relaxed at the work even if he seemed slightly dissatisfied with the execution.

Oh Tech. Always craving improvement.

With the tension settled and you back to your relatively normal appearance, Wrecker gave a celebratory pump of his fists and gathered you up in a crushing hug. “You’re okay! I’m SO glad you’re okay!”

“I can confirm that he is indeed glad, seeing as I was the one subject to his stressing the entire time.”

Your own jovial laughter morphed into a wheeze at Tech’s grievance and then a small cry of pain when pressure bore into your tender ribs. Wrecker’s grip immediately slackened. “Sorry, Specs,” he mourned, caressing your back and placing you back down with more thought that time.

Tech pulled out a thermal body scanner. “I’m going to run some scans on you to assess your condition. Standby.”

A grateful smile rearranged your lips as you held still for Tech and rotated your gaze around to each member. “I appreciate the rescue.”

“You would’ve done the same for us,” Hunter merely spoke on behalf.

You diverted your attention to the young girl rescued alongside, standing meekly among what had to have been intimidating company. You smiled gently. “So this is the little stowaway.”

“She’s free now.” Hunter eyed her thoughtfully, a comforting sense of duty flickering in his chest. “She doesn’t have to live under submission or fear.” He took care to leave out the hard truth of psychological recovery, and quieted. “I just wish we could say the same about all the others.”

If they only knew the amount of children he saw...

You caught the girl’s eye and she quickly averted her gaze. With Tech off to run his diagnostics, you crouched to be eye level with her, fighting back a wince when your ribs flared angrily at the new position.

“What’s your name?” You asked quietly.

She glanced up at Crosshair, with whose presence she had interestingly taken refuge in. She swallowed, and whispered, “Omera.”

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rachaelswrites · 3 years

Text

Rachael’s Taglists

If you want to be added/removed from any of these, let me know! And if there’s a certain actor/character you want to be tagged for specifically, just ask!

Add yourself here!

Main (not including series)

@ssebstann @peachyprincessss @emmy-writes-sometimes @dudele @prentisswrites @laura-naruto-fan1998 @multifamdomfan12 @aquariuslavenderhoney @jjmybeloved @vxidsti1es @waxingmoonwrites @benbarnesbussy @hallecarey1 @freds-slut @ssa-uglywhore27 @czlypso (for some reason I can’t tag you) @sweetpeterparker @im-in-love-with-pizza-bites @llpovi @bunnyweasley23 @mrchiipchrome @simpingbutch @graciegoeskrazy y @glxwingrxse @lamieshelmy

Marvel cast/characters only

@coffeeandbooksaddict @markhyucksmells

Criminal Minds cast/characters only

@jswessie187 @wannabemobwife @doctorspenceryeet

Other

Series

New Captain

@ehggowo @evans-dejong @kaitieskidmore1 @halzore @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @unusualchaoszoe @hallecarey1 @yeetyeetchickenmeat @play-morezeppelin @fangirllife98 @bunnyweasley23 @mrchiipchrome

Tiktok, Boys, and Milkshakes

@dandelionxgal @vanteguccir @yelenabelovawife @cutelittlepotatofry @itsdreqa @llpovi @bunnyweasley23 @markhyucksmells

Episode

@bunnyweasley23 @mrchiipchrome

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gospelofme · 3 years

Text

The Sound of Silence

Orson x female deaf character

No warnings

Part 2

Orson had watched her carefully sketch out a rough outline of the painting in front of her. A Sunrise Picnic was a 400 year old famous painting by famed Twi’lek artist Giselle Le DuPont. It was originally done in acrylic, but Orson noticed the enchanting artist in front of him had chosen water colors.

Taking out a notepad and ink stylus of his own, Orson gave her a gentle tap on forearm. She looked over at him, then down at the offered writing materials.

- What is your name? I feel silly for not asking you yesterday.

He had written, she gave him a silent laugh and playfully dinged herself on the forehead. Orson smiled and shook his head,

“Oh no, I’m the dumb one.” He spoke clearly. She inclined her head slightly to the side, but seemed to get the gist of what he said through body language. She wrote back on his pad,

- Ingrid Van Doren, what’s yours?

Orson murmured the name to himself.

- Orson Krennic

He chose to leave his rank out, even though he was used to including it. He was dressed casually today, but he had been here in uniform before. She looked at it and gave a little smile. She then returned to her sketch, finishing up the last little bit. Ingrid quickly gave Orson the official job of Paint Water Cup Holder. He was good at it, and decided to have a bit of fun with it. At one point he pretended to take a drink of the paint water, much to Ingrid’s horror. When he assured her he was just joking, she laughed in her own special way. Her smile was more beautiful than the nebulae far above them.

He watched her paint the scene she’d sketched out, using a small pallet to mix colors. She had attached the pallet to her easel, which she had flattened.

She kept some colors the same, but changed up other colors. Orson watched how her steady hand made perfect lines. He marveled at how easily she made the wildflowers dotting the field landscape. It looked so simple, so easy, but he knew better than to attempt it himself. His eyes travelled to her fact, watching her concentrated expression. She’d bite the inside of her lower lip if something was challenging, or she’d furrow her brow if she was trying to be extra careful on a section. Sometimes she’d take a break and stretch or crack her back.

A couple museum visitors checked out what she was doing, but Ingrid ignored them. Orson knew she could tell they were there, as they often stood next to her. During one of her breaks, they chatted back and forth with Orson’s notepad.

- Are you a professional artist? You’re very good.

He had wondered if she was a student, teacher, or a professional. She may have been none of the above and just painted for a hobby.

- Actually, I work here. I restore old paintings and do conservation work. I just do this on my day off to keep my skills sharp.

He was surprised to read her answer. He had seen programs about the work that goes into restoring paintings.

- So you can paint in all different mediums?

- Well my specialty is acrylics and oils, water color is new for me so i’m trying to practice as much as I can with it.

Conversation soon changed to her asking him questions about what he does. As he assumed, she knew he was military. His official job was highly classified, so he decided to explain what it was he used to do.

- Essentially, I oversee building projects. All the way from the design process to completion. If we talk a walk sometime, I’ll point out some of the ones I’ve worked on.

She gave an eager nod when she read his offer and the two made plans to meet up for lunch later in the week and for Orson to give her a tour.

Tag list

@jgvfhl @thatonegreyghost @leias-left-hair-bun @eyecandyeoz @halzore @escapedthesarlacc @adriiibell

#star wars #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #orson krennic #director krennic #krennic x reader #Krennic x oc #i’ve never written a deaf character before so any tips are welcome #deaf character

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halzore · 3 years

Text

So, I have been thinking a lot about this, and so now you all get to hear about it

Bad Batch: Modern Au

This post will briefly outline the context that a series of snapshots and Vignettes will be based off (just to save me from the pain of incorporating that into actual fic)

Hunter - the dad.

He is ex-army, served from 19 until he had to come home and look after his brothers when their parents passed

Accidentally adopted Omega when she was little, one of his army pals Cut had gone into child services since retiring and struggled finding a placement for little Omega

Like a duck to water, Hunter became a mother-hen, not only to Omega, but to his younger brothers as well.

Is currently aged 28

Tech - the nerd

He is in his third year at university studying computer science

is currently aged 21

Stays holed up in his room a lot, its got quite smelly.

Likes when Omega comes in his room and just exists while he does stuff, thats kinda how they bond.

Echo - The Ghost

Echo was really hit hard by the passing of their parents.

He was the oldest brother home when they got the call thier dad had passed away from a sudden heart attack, and watched his mother fade away from a broken heart

He is quite snarky with the rest of his fam, still unsure about Omega, but he is getting used to her, but would fight someone to the death if they were mean to her

He hurt his leg in an accident at his work, but has since attended rehab. He lives with chronic pain, and works occasionally as a mechanic

is currently aged 23

Wrecker - The Muscle

Wrecker is obsessed with the gym

He is always there at 5am every morning, benchpressing

He has a whole supplements thing going on and is trying his best to get proper jacked

But when he is not working he is at the local bakery. He really enjoys working with bread and cake. Its his passion outside of fitness.

Omega enjoys hanging out at the bakery afterschool, finishing her homework while Wrecker finishes up for the day.

Is currently aged 19

Crosshair - the Enlisted

Crosshair was in the Army at 19 too, somehow was assigned to the same unit as Hunter after a couple of tours.

When Hunter came back to take care of the fall out of their parent's death, Crosshair instead chose to stay in the army

It was his way to cope, Hunter thinks he's changed, not dealing with his emotions.

Its a point of contention within the family. But they love Crosshair nevertheless

Omega wants Crosshair to love her too, but she is not sure she ever will

Is currently aged 25

Omega - The little one

she is currently 12

Hunter fostered and then adopted her when she was 9 and a half

She feels like one of the crew, but is still a little timid around Echo and Crosshair, for different reasons

She enjoys playing soccer and cooking dinner for her bros

She has just started high school and finds it a bit difficult to fit in

Tagging some lovely people who might be interested

@thegoodbatch @leias-left-hair-bun @the-studious-porg @peacefulwizardfox @a-lil-perspective

#tbb #modern au #omega #crosshair #tech #echo #hunter #halzore writes #this is start of somethign fun for me #more context will be added to this post as i go #just so i can keep the vignettes fun and light #watch this space gang #because i can feel fun things coming #wrecker

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pro-fangirls-unsocial-life · 2 years

Text

Hey Everyone!!

Long time, no see!

College has been killing me so writing has been a bit rough lately. I am going to try and get something posted before the end of the year, but school and my mental health with always be my first priority.

Speaking of school! I have a survey that I created for my final project in my English class! I would really appreciate people filling out so that I can get as many responses as possible!

Thank you guys so much and I hope to be back with a fic very soon!

Feel free to reblog!

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSeK0Dqf7QzRpMwa1x9UUYFts8OmBT3U2DE3ErfoSTCod8kDgA/viewform?usp=sf_link

Tagging some mutuals and my taglist under the cut!

@captainrexisboo @vesperstalksclones @lilhawkeye3 @rowansparrow @cheshire-noir @thegoodbatch @simping-for-fives @cacodaemonia @snippy-tano @just-some-girl-92 @writer1 @lightning-wolffe @halzore @morganas-pendragons @marvel-starwars-nerd @ct7567329

@a-dorin@fuckyeahbeskar @kaorikoizumi

@catsnkooks @i-got-no-bones @leeleebee @pinkiemme @letitrainathousandflames

#pro speaks #not writing #thank you guys for helping me out!

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the-clone-anon-cupid · 3 years

Text

And I have returned!

I am doing pretty well right now. The other patients are friendly and pretty cool, so that's good. Had a few different therapy sessions, and they went well.

So, everything is going good so far!

Okay, back to listing people who would love a Clone anon to pop by:

@drabbles-n-doodles (this is not a 18+ blog) and/or @drabbles-after-dark (this one is 18+)

@intergalactic-padawan (under 18)

@fuckyeahbeskar

@colorfulloverbatturkey (requesting either Hunter, Crosshair, or Jesse)

@redandwhiteroses

@ortizshinkaroff (requesting either Tech, Crosshair, Rex, or Wolffe)

@notreallybeccab (under 18)

@blxwjobsforclones

@voxmyriad

@justsimpingforjesse

@fandom-blackhole

@iscream4clones

@ahsokatano-thetogruta

@numberoneyouthcupcake

@jadetheaverage

@elsaanna007

@crc-the11tailedlovesclones

@aahsokaatano

@snippy-tano

@meshlamando (plantonic for now)

@feathersforclones

@starwarsworld

@ct7567329

@frecklelemonade

@finallyouttathatdress

@agent-catfish-kenobi

@the-mandalorian-clone-lover

@morganas-pendragons

@clonewarslover55

@clonewars-headcanons

@starwarsmylove

@writing-with-whiplash

@dottiechan

@shadow-hyder (Bad Batch boys for this one)

@halzore

@a-lil-perspective

Hope you guys get your Clone anon soon!

Remember: if you want to be added, or would like to add someone who would, say, need cheering up from a Clone anon, please let me know. Can't read minds, unfortunately.

#look who's back #back again

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majorshiraharu · 3 years

Note

Hello. Are you taking requests? Could you do a fic featuring Commander Ponds please? You are one of the only people on Tumblr that I’ve found that has written for him. Something sweet with a s/o please?

----------------------------- Commander Ponds x GN!Reader | Fluff | - Wandering Through Dreams -----------------------------

Content Warning: Mentions of nightmares and sleep walking Reader: No use of Y/N, no pronouns used, no description of a male/female body

-----------------------------

A/N: Hi ☺️ Yes, my requests are open. I'd be happy to write something for Ponds. He deserves more love! Thank you so much for your request!!

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"Is everything alright?" You whispered as you rubbed your eyes and slowly pushed yourself into a sitting position. The palm of your hand pushing into the soft cushion of the mattress. Your voice must have been too quiet since Ponds didn't respond. Instead, he continued walking out of the bedroom and out into the darkness that filled the small hall. For a moment you wondered if he was sleepwalking again. He often had nightmares about his times on the battlefield, and more than a few times he'd walk around while his mind made him relive these moments. Slipping out of the covers, you walk out of the room to go find him, hoping he doesn't run into something in the dark while he wandered. When you turn the corner, you noticed a small light in the kitchen was on and walked towards it. Finding him standing there filling a glass with water. "Ponds?" You say, running a hand across his shoulders and back. "Hmm? Oh, sorry, did I wake you?" He asked, turning around after setting down the glass. Shaking your head in response, you kiss his cheek to reassure him. "Everything okay? You didn't answer earlier, so I followed you, just to make sure you weren't sleepwalking again." "I'll be fine, just couldn't sleep, figured I'd make myself some warm water to calm my nerves." "Honey, I think that's warm milk that helps you sleep, not warm water," you teased, making him chuckle. "I know, but I'm too tired to warm up some milk." "Would you like me to make some, and you can go lay back down?" You asked. "No, that's okay, I rather go lay back down with you. Besides warm cuddles work just as well." He said with a smile as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in for a hug. He finished his glass of water and the both of you headed back to bed, the covers colder now since you had left. Snuggling close together, you rested yourself on him, keeping most of your weight on your elbows. He closed his eyes and let out a breath he had been holding in from all the stress, you gently kiss finally freeing him of it. He couldn't tell if he was dreaming, every night he laid here with you was like a dream. A dream he had a thousand times, still never quite having it sink in that this was finally real. That every day he opened his eyes you were by his side. You placed a soft kiss on his lips before laying down next to him, watching his chest slowly rise and fall as he breathed. Tired eyes finally resting, his mind free of unpleasant memories and what-ifs. Placing your hand over his, you cuddled up as close as you could, resting your head on his chest as you closed your eyes.

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a-lil-perspective · 3 years

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What about some crosshair and reader where the reader thinks that crosshair absolutely hates them, so they end up crying about it and he finds them crying. With a fluffy ending

Anon! I love this! This is the first descriptive ask/prompt I’ve ever gotten, and the process was actually rather smooth so I’m not sure whether or not to be nervous, haha. I am tweaking/re-examining Crosshair’s character as I mold and grow into my own writing style. I hope you like this!

[Warning for some swearing. Mild hurt/comfort. Crosshair is (unintentionally) a butt who gives off the wrong impression 99.9% of the time.]

Tags: @shadow-hyder @starflyer-104 @thegoodbatch @halzore @karpasia @fxndxmxnxce @kriffingunlucky @mackstrut @godhateskyleigh @pearlyarmor @and-claudia (because it’s Crosshair, love) @j-ma26-rb (Let me know if I missed you/if you’d like to be taken off. Also, this list is always open. :))

As You Do

Boiling anger pegs you to your spot as he stalks away without a word.

Without a word.

Again.

That’s all he ever does.

It’s fucking maddening. Bestowed nothing more than a glance in passing. Receiving always, the bare minimum for a response: brusque answers, a ‘hmph’ or something even more unengaging. Pinned down by brooding, scrutinizing eyes. All for you, only for you.

You have a brilliant plan? Everyone validates but him. You saved his ass out there? He’ll never discuss the extent. You’re a decent person who cares when no one else does? He doesn’t seem to give a damn. It’s all meaningless. Months of sleepless nights planning and prepping and straining to succeed all a lost cause, what with the way his body language depicts a constant desire to send you back to your own unit, away from theirs. Away from him.

Why does this nerf-herding sniper hate you?

Sure, sure. Some people are more introverted and assessing than others. That’s all good and well. But Crosshair takes it to the extreme. It’s one thing to hold oneself in reserve. It’s another to make no effort to hide their disinterest.

Or... or maybe you’re just reading too much into things. Maybe your hyperactive mind has grown far too sensitized to that of others; to their endless, shifting sea of intentions.

You suddenly find yourself depleted of any energy to actually ascertain the truth in that moment.

You’ve always hated crying but it soothes you with a spine-rattling poison, stinging and running deep through your veins. Its sharp bite absorbs deep, and you want nothing more than to succumb to it, curl in on yourself and wallow in all your shortcomings. Forever and futilely try to dissect the reasoning for the coagulating barrier between you and others; an unremitting travesty.

So that’s exactly what you do.

He hearkens to the sobbing first.

Crosshair narrows his eyes at you from the doorframe. Was it the recent mission taking its toll? Those five days in Jabiim were rough. Were you hurt? Did somebody upset you? Tech being annoying? Fekking hells, what is it? What do you need?

He takes quick inventory of your disturbing fettle: hysterical sniffling, puffy eyes, arms wrapped tightly around your hunched frame. A frustrated cry, one full of misunderstanding.

Crosshair acknowledges the poking realization that maybe your pent up—now spilling—frustration has something to do with... with him.

And he hates the notion.

The unmistakable rocking of your body sends his twinging guilt spiraling into a full frontal assault.

“Stop fucking staring at me like I’m a target in your scope,” you snarl, swiping angrily at your face and snapping him back to attention. His straightens almost imperceptibly, jaw tensing. Deathly silence gurneys between.

“What is your problem, huh?” You snap, unable to stand it any longer. “Why do you hate me? What the fuck have I possibly done—”

“I don’t hate you.”

A bitter laugh sections out from between grit teeth. “You think I’m so dim as to actually believe that?”

“I don’t hate you,” he repeats, more vehement this time. There’s so much to unpack there. You aren’t dim, you aren’t hated... You don’t get it. In your pained state, you overlook the way he’s mildly offended.

“Then why.”

The rest of the question is a variable on your tongue but Crosshair knows full well what you mean.

Why are you so detached, why do you feign indifference, why must you constantly tread on others in order to secure yourself—

Why are you so... Crosshair.

All valid questions. But there’s still a Crosshair that you’ve yet to see. He decides it’s high time he show you. And that maybe his method of broaching it all this time has been horribly wrong.

He inches carefully into your space with reconciling steps. He watches for signs of resistance. When he’s met with none, he ambles his way to where you sit on the floor, your cot frame pillowing your back in a way that can’t be comfortable. He thinks as much as he sinks down beside you, copying your position despite himself. His admiration for you swells when his back already aches in protest over the dumbed position. You were tenacious. Sometimes to a fault.

Tenacious, and hurt.

“I have a shitty way of communicating—”

“You don’t say,” you scowl. Such a wormy excuse that is, and one you’re wholly uninterested in coming to terms with. It’s nauseating, you think as you screw your tear-stained face up at him.

Crosshair huffs over the interruption but continues. “And I give off the wrong impression sometimes.”

You deadpan glare at him.

“Okay, all the time,” he corrects. “But I don’t...” he falters, surprising you when he scoops up your hand in his in a seemingly nonchalant act. As if you’ve held hands a thousand times before. He thumbs at your tears with the other. “I don’t hate you. Never have.”

“You’ve said that three times now,” you note, the bite gone from your tone and replaced with something weary, wary. You look down to where you’re connected at the hands. His grip is warm, inviting. ‘Inviting’ and ‘Crosshair’ have never been two words that paired together anytime prior. You bring your gaze up to eye-level with him. “So what do you think of me?”

“That you’re important to the team—”

“What do you think of me.”

“I think you’re a strong person,” he spills rushingly, distantly annoyed though he can’t quite pinpoint why. Maybe it’s the way you challenge him, and the way he likes it. “Smart. Caring. You get along with my brothers well.” He squeezes your hand in an act that seems more therapeutic for him than anything. “Which is important to me. Therefore you’re important—to me.”

Well that was... simple enough.

You can’t help your pout and the exasperation that immediately pools because of it.

“Well a fucking ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed, don’t you think?”

This man.

You purse your lips in a very caricature-like expression as the gravity of the situation hits you like a freighter. “Do you have any idea the kind of Bantha-shit you’ve put me through these past few months? Honestly. I don’t even know why I bother with you—”

Crosshair silences you by pulling you atop his lap and pressing your head to his chest, cradling the back and oh his chest clenches at the feeling of holding you. It’s a foreign touch he’s not allowed himself to know. Just the thought as he lie alone at night. “I know. Shhh. ‘M sorry,” he mumbles into your hair. “I fucked up and that’s all there is to it. I’m sorry.”

You grumble into his chest. You’re annoyed with the way his newfound tenderness makes you melt, the tension weeding out of your shoulders as you relent with a sigh. “Sorry doesn’t erase anything.”

“It doesn’t,” he agrees. His arms wrap around you further. “So let’s start over, yeah?”

“Starting with?”

Crosshair removes one hand from your back to press it to the floor, hauling himself up while keeping a rather impressive hold on you. He’s definitely stronger than he looks, that’s the first thing you realize. He backs up to your bed and lies the both of you down. “Starting with a good cuddle.”

#star wars #the bad batch #clone force 99 #crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair x reader #titles #because I love coming up with them #hands down my favorite part in the writing process lol idek why #my writing #it’s a lil thing

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