actuallybarb

[actuallybarb]

Bail Organa is actually the greenest flag in all of Star Wars. He believes in the Republic and after it fell he founded a rebellion. He's married and took he wifes last name. He raised the daughter of his best friend as his own. On that note, his best friend is a woman in politics. He supported the Jedi during the Republic and the Empire. He probably wears Sweaters Breha bought him to Senate Meetings. I love him sm.

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Fives (with a headache): Bacta me up, daddy. Kix: I will short out the language centre of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.

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White Lies are just Truths covered in Snow

Summary: After arriving on a barren planet to steal the Empire’s hidden cargo, you go along with a lie in the hopes of completing your mission (Mayday x gn!reader)

Word Count: 2.7k

(currently going through my drafts and found this! decided to finish it off even though I initially started this right after the season 2 Mayday episode came out ;-;)

You look down at the planet’s desolate appearance. Despite being nestled in your ship, the very idea of facing the chilly weather makes a shiver creep up your spine.

The comm in your ship momentarily crackles before a familiar voice fills the small cockpit. “Tooka, this is Jaig checking in, are you on schedule for pick up?”.

In other words, it’s Rex, using the code names you all agreed on as a precaution. Even though your comm channel is private, Rex is a cautious man, preferring to stay vague and use code names while on comm channels. The last thing anyone wants is to accidentally give vital information away to anyone who could intercept your line of communication.

“Roger roger” you reply, biting back your smile.

You hear an audible scoff but it’s as if you can hear the smile in his voice “Stay focused, Tooka”. 

A muffled voice is heard in the background before Rex continues “If you run into any complications, let us know and we’ll provide backup. This should be a simple mission but stay sharp nonetheless… oh, and Rishi wants me to tell you he says good luck”.

Your heart warms at that. Echo has only recently decided to join the fight and although you haven’t admitted this to either Rex or Echo, his return is also the reason you’ve decided to do this mission alone.

You’re more than qualified to do this simple pick up of some cargo stored here. The cargo is rumoured to be something that can aid your fight against the Empire and with how dire things are, you’re more than happy to optimistically follow this rumour. 

With Echo still adjusting from being with the Bad Batch to now fighting the Empire on the front lines, you thought some quality time between just him and Rex would help ease him into it. 

Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

Manoeuvring your ship to land, you peer out at the abandoned base, a thick sheet of snow covering the grey building. It’s not a welcoming sight. In fact, you’ve seen places on the lower levels on Coruscant look more welcoming than here… and a whole lot warmer. 

“Don’t worry, Jaig, I got this” you assure him.

“If you’re sure,” Rex sighs, worry lining his every word.

You laugh, casually sitting back in your seat as the ship descends to the platform below “I think I can handle stealing a few crates, Cap- uh, Jaig”.

“I know you can,” he replies “just remember to lift with your back”.

That earns another laugh from you “You’re kidding me, right? This place is bound to have some droids that can do all the heavy lifting… well, that’s if they aren’t completely frozen”.

After another amused scoff and a brief farewell, Rex disconnects, leaving you alone with your mission.

It takes a few more seconds for your ship to land, giving you the time to peer out at the base. It stands alone. No signs of a local village, a cantina or even grazing wildlife nearby.

The base is truly the only thing here. 

The wind that immediately greets you as you exit your ship is great motivation to pick up your pace and head straight for the building, not wasting time anymore time in surveying the area. The hanger has been left open for all to enter, as if the base is trying to coax the cold winds to follow you inside. 

Huffing, you pull your tattered jacket tighter around your body and walk deeper into the vast space. The dark outlines of empty crates line the hanger, probably full of medical supplies or food for whichever battalion was stationed here long ago.

There is an eerie silence to the place, punctuated by the sound of your own footsteps echoing off the walls. It looks utterly deserted. Now it’s nothing more than another relic of the Republic, frozen in time.

Maybe that’s why you become so rattled when you hear it.

“About time you arrived” the voice takes you completely by surprise, your hand immediately hovering over your holstered blaster.

As much as you want to unholster it and prepare yourself for a fight… you can’t, not when you recognise the voice. It’s the same voice that you know is capable of killing you, a voice that has experienced so much tragedy and the same voice of some of your closest friends. 

A clone. 

And so you simply hover your hand above the blaster, deciding to take your chances without instantly resorting to a standoff. 

You stay rooted in place, eyes darting to each visible nook and cranny, waiting for the clone to reveal himself. Movement catches your eye, your head snapping to the side as you're greeted by not just one clone, but three.

“We were expecting this cargo to get transported 6 months ago,” the clone in the centre states “any reason for the delay?”.

For a moment, you merely stand there, trying your best to comprehend the situation you’ve found yourself in. It’s hard to think of an answer to his question, caught off guard by the unexpected company. 

“Well, uh…” you begin, your eyes trailing down his armour, decorated with ribbons of bandages wrapped around each part of his plastoid gear.

Next, your gaze travels to the clones at either side of him, both with their blasters in hand but thankfully not aimed at you

“Get lost on the way here?” He offers up an excuse. Although his face is covered, his wrapped helmet obscuring his expression, the sarcasm in his voice is thick. “Or did the almighty Empire forget about us already?”.

“A bit of both?” you answer but your uncertain tone makes it sound more like a question. 

Clearing your throat, you try again, this time trying to sound more confident. “They’ve been updating files back at the uh… main base… some data was overlooked, so we’re behind on some missions that should have been completed months ago. Sorry to um… to have kept you waiting”. 

That sounded good, right? And technically it’s not all a lie. Ever since Echo came aboard, he’s been helping Rex gain access to Imperial records thanks to a few tricks Tech taught him. 

The clone replies with a shrug “At least you’re being honest”. The words sting, making you want to wince but you don’t, your expression staying neutral. If only he knew how honest you were truly being. 

“C’mon, I’ll show you where it is,” with the flick of his hand, the clone signals for the other two clones to lower their blasters completely, with one even holstering their weapon. A silent sigh of relief falls from your lips as you step closer to the troopers. 

“Hexx, Veetch, watch the perimetre,” the clone orders, bringing his hands up to detach his helmet. Once his helmet is off, he looks at you, your eyes properly meeting his for the first time as he instructs “This way”.

He takes a few steps forward, venturing deeper into the dim facility and indirectly showing off his mullet to you. His beard was a surprise to see too, though you’ve noticed beards have come into fashion lately within the clone world… mullets on the other hand, well, you’re positive this is the first and last time you’ll ever meet a clone bold enough to try the look and successfully pull it off.

“You coming?” he asks, glancing back at you with one of his brows raised “or did you just stop by for a chat?”.

You silently follow, hoping the less you say the better. 

“Name’s Mayday, by the way” he makes idle conversation “Commander Mayday”.

When you reply with your own name, he nods and leads you through the maze of tall, metallic shelving units. “I know this might be above my…” Mayday lets out a low chuckle “well, above my nonexistent pay grade but what’s in those crates?”.

You choose your next words carefully. Surely this is some type of test and the Commander knows what’s in there, right? Truthfully, you weren’t sure.

All you know is that it’s cargo the Empire won’t let go of, something they feel the need to hold on to even if it means their troopers are freezing to death to guard it.

“They didn’t inform you? Despite you being the Commander here?” You bat a question back at him.

“Clone Commander, they don’t tell us much these days…” he amuses drily, his sentence trailing off as he stops in front of what you assume to be the crates. 

Mayday pats the top of one, quick to change the topic of conversation “Well, I guess these are your problem now”.

You nod, biting your lip as a sudden wave of guilt washes over you. It seemed simple to take the crates when you thought no one else was here. You would even grab them and take out a few droids if that’s what was guarding the cargo… but even the idea of deceiving these clones makes your stomach churn.

You mirror his movement and put your hand on top of the crate too, looking anywhere but his eyes.

“Well then, I best comm the other two and get them moving this out to your ship” he lifts up his comm, giving Veesh and Hexx their new orders. 

While he does, you take the opportunity to look up at him again. You pray he doesn’t notice your guilty expression. By the time he’s off his comm, you’ve already tried to think of a few alternative plans. Would it be possible to persuade them to come with you? Would they be open and understanding when you explain the inhibitor chips and would they willingly get them removed? But then you hear Rex and what he would say:

“We can’t save all of them… but we can fight for all of them, one way or another”.

That’s what he said to you when he told you about what happened with the 501st. You could hear the pain in his voice when he said it and standing in front of Mayday now, it’s like you can feel that same pain making your throat close up.

Mayday seems to notice your shift in mood, a glimmer of curiosity flickering across his eyes. 

“You know, the ship you came here in, it’s pretty small for cargo transportation… not a model I’ve ever seen the Empire use either'' he keeps his head facing downwards but his eyes are locked on yours. The tone of his voice is so balanced, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely being curious or if he’s about to confront you.

A million thoughts race through your head. Should you simply ignore his obvious inquiries? Would that only add to how suspicious you’ve been already? Kriff, are you taking too long to answer?!

“Remind me,” your voice comes out croaky, the words desperate to get stuck in your throat and yet you force them out “when was the last time you were on one of the main Empire bases?”.

Mayday is a contradiction to you. His chocolatey brown eyes are warm and inviting to you and yet his position of Commander during the Empire’s newfound reign makes you apprehensive. The look he gives you isn’t sceptical, nor is it the hardened look of a soldier that you expected. 

“Fair point,” he concedes, his gaze unwavering “so you’re taking them?”.

“That’s what the Empire sent me here for” you lie with the flash of a smile, hoping that’ll win him over. 

You’ve been in worse situations than this, both during the war and afterwards. All you have to do is play along with a lie and despite a few hiccups, you think you’re doing okay.

Kriff, this isn’t even your lie. Mayday’s the one who just presumed that you’re here to collect the cargo for the Empire. 

“And they sent you to retrieve the cargo while you’re off duty?” he gestures to your clothes. 

It’s hard to tell if Mayday is teasing you or if he’s sizing you up for a fight, the smooth tone of his voice disarming yet eerie in the current situation. 

While your clothes aren’t what any civvie would wear, they are quite scruffy and far from the Empire’s pristine uniforms. You tilt your head, eyebrows raised as you feign shock “Commander, are you dissing my style?”.

That earns a laugh from him and you can’t help but feel a spark of pride. “Not at all,” he shakes his head, though his smile stays in place “I just thought the Empire had stricter dress codes”. 

You shrug “I was told this planet experienced extreme weather and I didn’t want to get my clothes dirty… but I do wish I wore something warmer, I knew it would be cold but this is worse than I imagined. I couldn’t even bear the thoughts of living out here and dealing with all you have”. Your tone shifts to a much more solemn note as you say that last part, memories of the war creeping up on you.

There’s a shift in Mayday’s gaze, a cloud of hesitation flickering past his eyes. So close to saying something and yet he stops himself, instead opting to simply nod in response.

It makes you nervous, your brain getting whiplash from constantly going back and forth from being convinced you’re in trouble to thinking Mayday has no idea what your true plan is. 

Instead of commenting on it, you focus on walking in step with Mayday, trying to act calm and bury your instinctive desire to sprint to your ship desperately. Making your way out of the facility, the two other troopers come into view, both of them hauling out one of the crates.

Glancing back at Mayday, you say “I’ll start up the ship, thanks for helping out”.

He gives you a small smile, a telling one though you’re unable to decipher what exactly he’s trying to tell you. Giving him a nod, you pick up your pace, your sights set on your ship. 

Behind you, you hear the Commander reply. “Sure thing, Tooka” he says it so nonchalantly that you almost miss it. 

Your feet jitter to a stop. Suddenly the chill of the wind seems sharper, cutting through you as you slowly turn around to look at him.

“How do you…” you trail off once you see the blaster in his hand, pointed directly at you.

“I should thank you,” Mayday begins, his tone just as smooth and calm as before “listening into your comm channel was the most entertaining thing I’ve heard in months”.

“Mayday, wait just-” you begin, unsure what kind of explanation you're going to give him but determined to at least try. But before you can even attempt to bargain with the Commander, he pulls the trigger. 

A flash of light shoots from his blaster, his aim perfect as you fall to the ground. Before you lose consciousness, there’s only one thought that runs through your mind — at least he has his blaster set to stun.

Mayday approaches you with his blaster held tightly in his hands, his firm grip unwavering. He’s seen it take three or even fours stun blasts to take down insurgents during the war and so he stays prepared, ready to deliver another stun if necessary.

When he reaches you, Mayday lightly nudges your leg with his foot, carefully watching for any movement. You stay still, completely knocked out and he leaves out a long, shaky breath. 

He didn’t want to do that.

And usually in situation like this, he wouldn’t even consider stunning. If any personnel enter the facility without being cleared by the Empire, then they’re trespassers and considered insurgents. In that case, it’s a shoot to kill situation, not shoot to stun. 

But as he watched you clamber out of your ship and survey the base when you first arrived, Mayday could tell this was different, that you were different.

Although every fibre in his being is reminding him that there’s distinct look for raiders or insurgents, you didn’t exactly seem like one. Nor did you act like the other raiders Mayday is forced to deal with on a week to week basis.

Holstering his blaster, he looks over at the other two troopers. “Hexx, go bring the crate back inside. Veetch, go get the binders,” Mayday orders, a satisfied smile creeping up on his face as he announces “boys, we’ve caught ourselves a pirate!”.

[actuallybarb]

think about clones being absolutely ENTHRALLED by totally normal everyday things that they never had on Kamino or encountered in their sliced media. none of them have ever seen a bouncy ball before and they lose their fucking shit over it. it’s mayhem in the barracks when someone gets ahold of a 20-pack of tiny bouncy balls. there are confiscations and several new legion-wide mandates. their jedi can’t stop laughing. — clones being fascinated and terrified by kitchen appliances bc all their food was pre made and handed to them on trays. kix has a deep distrust of toasters after one scared the shit out of him the first time he used it. clones who are afraid of bugs. clones who are OBSESSED with bugs and use up all their allotted comm storage space taking pictures of every single one they see. clones who have never seen a holo advertisement before and they trust and believe everything the advertiser says. clones who make their padawan learner tell them absolutely everything about “restaurants” and anxiously roleplay ordering food with each other before their first shore leave to make sure they get it perfect. they don’t all understand the assignment but they try. just THINK ABOUT CLONES BEING DEPRIVED OF NORMAL PEOPLE THINGS AND FINALLY HAVING A CHANCE TO EXPERIENCE IT ALL ONCE THEYRE SENT AWAY FROM KAMINO AND COPING WITH IT IN DIFFERENT WAYS

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"That's okay. I like a challenge."

I've been wanting to draw adult Omega for a while now and today the idea finally came!

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it occurred to me that she's never seen echo without his headpiece thingy

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tried the blind color palette challenge a few times with some suggested characters :))

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late night study

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Freebee to write whatever you want!

"Harpies," Alfred sniffed, tossing the paper aside with disgust.

Your first public outing with the family had been fine. Successful, honestly in helping to integrate you. The boys had been kind and had seemingly started to understand how to work with and around your little... quirks. But the media had lost their god-forsaken minds.

After nearly a decade of taking male children, taking in a FEMALE child? And her being a little SHY? And COVERED UP on the beach? (In a long-sleeved t-shirt and some capris you found comfortable) For shame. And Bruce to be mindful of her physical boundaries? Of course, he's a secret misogynist. Not just a gentleman and a now experienced foster parent.

"Hn."

Alfred glanced at Bruce and smiled ruefully and patting his shoulder, "Second thoughts?"

"No," Bruce said shaking his head. "I don't think it would be good for her to hot potato her around. And, it's not like we can't handle her but-"

"She is very sweet," Alfred said, pouring him tea deftly. Flipping the Tv on to see what the news was saying about it. Debating a call to the planet. To see if they'd be willing to do something about it.

"But it's just- just-"

"Different," Alfred finished nodding. "Stocking her closet was a nightmare. I don't know what I would have done without Miss Barbara's help."

Bruce smiled a little. "It'll be an adjustment." He sipped his tea and frowned at the morning talk show. Of course they were talking about you. How sickly and shy you were. Timidly participating. Sometimes holding Dick's hand, sometimes Bruce's. Sometimes playing little games with Tim. Covered up compared to the rest of them in swim trunks with their shirts off. The three of them rough housing and playing in the water while you sat in the shade and watched.

It did look odd from the outside. But- you were content. Participating how you were comfortable. On the way home you fell asleep with your head on Dick's shoulder and he carried you inside while Bruce carried Tim. It was a good day. "Should I have picked a different-"

"I never saw the ocean before."

Your quiet little voice and a persistent uncertain feeling sends them both grabbing for the remote to shut the TV off.

"No?" Bruce asked, pushing out a chair for you.

"Just lakes. But some of those were pretty big. I remember taking a old mail boat once on a tour. They showed us where Al Capone had a house."

He nodded and smiled a little, "So you had a good day?"

You nod and he reaches up very carefully and sweeps hair out of your face, "And you don't think I'm secretly a misogynist?"

"I don't know what that means."

"That I hate women."

"I don't think you hate anyone," you tell him, and now he can feel crackles of confusion leaking your as your forehead crinkles.

Bruce exhales slowly, some of the frustration he felt falling away. "Thank you," he hummed. He didn't know if it was your influence or your words, but he appreciated it. And when little arms looped around his neck and he hugged you back on instinct, he realized that, for all the differences, some things weren't going to change. Kids were kids. And he loved them. And once they were his, they were his.

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Drew some clones while I desperately try to whack back the art block

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“your voice is nice when you’re not being mean”

oh my tender little heart, i love them your honor

Jason settled himself on the floor easily. Breathing through your emotions. Just letting them flow around him instead of getting caught in them- Dick had explained that trick to him.

They all had their own variation of it. To keep from getting swept away or overwhelmed. But. That was for bad days. On a normal day, from what Jason could tell; you held most of the strain yourself.

And he started to read. Half tuned in to your tension and your apprehension. But trying to focus instead on the words on the page. The heroine that littler you had wanted so much to be. The feeling of adventure just around the corner. It Was a cute little story so far. Not a hard read. Not dense or heavy handed...

Behind him, there's a rustle when you readjust and he pauses for a second. Realizing that you're getting a pillow and a blanket. And he smiles a little. Leaning over to grab your bean bag to plop down on. If you were gonna get cozy and relax a little bit, good. Jasn could work with that. He'd keep reading.

Somewhere, he knew he'd ready you every book if you wanted. But- Right now. As sunlight streamed in through the window and you lay on the window seat, Jason started to stroke your hair. Reading you the words on the page. Considering that maybe fairytales aren't so bad.

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Still obsessed with Arthur Conan Doyle’s letter to Bram Stoker gushing about how wonderful a book Dracula is, but particularly how it makes such a good template for leaving fic comments, so I’m gonna to a BREAKDOWN:

Just say you loved reading it - “I am sure that you will not think it an impertinence if I write to tell you how very much I have enjoyed reading Dracula.”

Comment on a detail of the craft or structure that impressed you - “It is really wonderful how with so much exciting interest over so long a book there is never an anticlimax.“

Comment on how it emotionally affected you - “It holds you from the very start and grows more and more engrossing until it is quite painfully vivid.”

SHARE YOUR BLORBO FEELINGS - “The old Professor is most excellent and so are the two girls.”

Show appreciation for them as an author - “I congratulate you with all my heart for having written so fine a book.”

Next time you don’t know what to say on a fic you enjoyed, just use the ACD method~

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I wish we knew more of which clones were batch mates, like we knew the domino twins, and know the bad batch, but what about everyone else 🥺

Everyone says that Rex and Howzer act like batchmates but I NEED CONFIRMATION

I NEED TO KNKW WHICH COPY AND PASTED MEN WERE COPY AND PASTED TOGETHER

[actuallybarb]

🎀 list 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your moots or followers <3

this is so cute! thanks for sending 🫶

reading

watching The Great British Baking Show with my parents

painting

calling all dogs “puppies” regardless of size

music

[actuallybarb]

i don't think you guys get it, the thing about anakin and ahsoka. imagine you're ahsoka and you're thirteen and you're in a warzone and you've been not-so-randomly assigned a new jedi master. he gives you a stupid nickname and jokes around with you and loves you; he's the only person who believes in your innocence when it's questioned, he's that one person that believes in you more than anything. he finds it agonizing to let people go but he lets you go because he trusts you more than anyone. you were special to him and you knew it and there's a pride in that, because not many people were. imagine you're thirteen and it's war and there's explosions and fire and blood and death, and then someone takes your shoulder in his hand and is like, hey, relax. let's play a game. whoever slaughters the most droids wins. and it's easier to breathe because it's less pressure if you squeeze your eyes shut and think you're playing a game with your jedi master, and it will all be okay. you have such vibrant memories of being loved by this man and then, away from you, without you knowing, he turns around and murders a few thousand people all at once in one hideous bloodsoaked night. the hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood. the person who made you feel that safe is the same guy who is so violent, so removed from any human compassion, that people whisper that he's a droid instead. the only person who believed in your innocence is a living nightmare. like actually what the fuck

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Jamie being cute (2/?)