#Hunter: Vod. why

[riacte]

Brief crash course for HBomb94 (not Hbomberguy!) + Hermits for those unfamiliar with him:

H is a MCC player and the Sands of Time VOD reviewer. He’s a core member of the MCC community and he’s why players say “Hi HBomb” before SoT

H teams with the hermits frequently to the point it’s a meme: H collects the hermits (he’s teamed with most of the MCC hermits— False, Ren, Grian, Pearl, Cub, Gem, Scar, Impulse) and he gets adopted by the hermits

In MCC, he’s known for having the “H factor” which states his presence boosts his teammates’ scores. He’s a fantastic leader and he keeps the morale up.

H is in Iskall’s Vault Hunters series— this is probably his most direct link to HC. H was invited after Ren met him when they teamed in MCC9, so yeah, that’s part of the Blue Bats’ legacy.

H is a big fan of Hermitcraft and he’s watched many hermits before— there’s more of his fanboying in his watch of Grian’s HC7 world tour

H sometimes teams with hermits outside of MCC in various e-sports events, but most of the team ups are in MCC

H was the one who predicted False popping off in Dodgebolt back in August 2020 when they hadn’t met yet

H was the team leader for MCC9 Blue Bats (H, Fruitberries, False, Ren) and he truly believed in all of them as a team even though False and Ren had gotten 9th like three times in a row, and they had an amazing legendary underdog victory. Probably the best MCC hermit victory ever (but I’m obviously biased haha).

Since then, H has teamed with the hermits many times, and they’ve won multiple times (Blue9 with False and Ren, Aqua20 with Gem, Aqua29 with False and Cub)

He played in irl MCC Twitch Rivals with Scar, Gem and Impulse (and possibly met Tango there in person)

H is a huuuuuge fanboy of the hermits in general and he’s always so proud and happy to team with them. He’s like “IT’S ME AND MY HERMITS! :D”. He’s vocally supportive and encouraging of the hermits in MCC (even when they were underestimated and seen as cannon fodder).

While H is an honorary hermit, it’s a different way from, let’s say, Skizz, because H isn’t in the Life series / Empires, he’s not a builder / redstoner— he’s like the MCC / SoT guy. He’s beloved among the MCC hermits, and the hermits and H are enthusiastic about each other.

Sands of Time and Decked Out have been frequently compared to each other, Grian even mentioned to H at the end of MCC18 that he got his ravager dodging skills from Decked Out 1

H being on HC is very exciting not only because H is a big hermit fan, he’s also not on Life series / Empires like the rest of the guests, so he has less of a connection to Tango personally, but they still invited him ^_^

#hermitcraft #hbomb94 #feel free to correct / add anything #i had to stop myself from making this about blue9 but i think it slipped thru #decked out open day

[theminecraftbee]

I too have been loving the amount of Iskall content, I had forgotten how much I enjoyed him before!

so the THING is that i've been an iskall fan for a WHILE now. people will know i've been a vault hunters fan for over a year, and the secret is that i've ACTUALLY been a vault hunters fan since early 2021, i just came into it by way of hbomb, not iskall, and only really picked up on being an iskall fan a bit later. but i was too late for the era of iskall being like, consistently active, because i joined hermitcraft in the end of season seven, which is the season that burnt iskall out. (it's really more complicated than that, but like. you know what i mean.)

so for a long time i liked iskall distantly. he didn't put out videos often enough for me to watch, and while i mostly liked his streams when i watched them (i have a long standing grudge against tts on streams that tends to be the thing that drives me off if there's an iskall stream i can watch; in iskall's defense he is FAAAAR from the only streamer i face this with), he streamed too early in the morning for me on account of being european. i liked what i saw of him in season eight, and season nine, but in those seasons life conspired to drive him off again. i LOVED his vault hunters singleplayer series, but even those were on-again off-again for some time.

and then, a golden era. like a shining ray from above: hermitcraft vault hunters. and with it, the era of vodskall, no more just stream vods. lo, it was a good time, both as a vault hunters fan (MY FAVORITE GUYS WERE PLAYING VAULT HUNTERS IT WAS SO GREAT) and as an iskall fan. but i had braced myself for it not to last. to not get greedy. to not hope too much for large amounts of iskall content.

except. vodskall showed iskall his path forward that didn't mean he'd burn out on making videos and guys he's making videos SO MUCH and it's SO GOOD and YEAH ANON I AGREE I MEAN I'VE BEEN AN ISKALL FAN FOR A WHILE BUT NOW I AM REALLY REMEMBERING WHY!

anyway. this is the season of iskall FOR REAL i am MANIFESTING IT LETS GO.

#answered #.......so in conclusion i'm normal.

[cerastes]

i have not gone through the stream vod of arknights, but did you enjoy eblana and her not-quite-that-much-fucked-up-evilitude?

We didn't read that in the stream but I did read that after the stream by myself and I Liked The Event quite a bit!

It goes without saying that I went into it with a lot of enthusiasm because I've loved Reed as a character since her release, and I really wanted to know What Was Her Deal. We get some of it in the main story, since she's tied to the Victoria arc, but her getting an event specifically as a new character in another class is fascinating because it would, logically speaking, serve as a character piece more so than a big stakes event. This is what was delivered, so I couldn't be happier.

It's not that I dislike big stakes or grander scale stories in Arknights -- the Abyssal Hunters arc and the Sui arc are my favorites! -- it's just, sometimes, I really want to know more about the characters more so than everything that surrounds them. Character pieces help understand the grander scale with a lot more emotional weight, because if done right, I'm now emotionally invested in the character and their overarching goal, not just the goal as the framework for the story. For example, 'Maria Nearl' was first and foremost a character piece, which then informs the overarching Kazimierz arc, so by the time Near Light rolls in, not only do I know what we're fighting for, I know who we're fighting for and why we are doing so, I know Maria's motivations, efforts, struggles, and trials, and so, I am invested in wanting to see her succeed. 'Maria Nearl' being a character piece doesn't mean it ONLY centered on Maria and nothing else, it sets up the scene and the cast, but through the lens of someone in the story as opposed to through the effects of events in the story.

What The Firelight Casts does a little inversion in the overall structure compared to 'Maria Nearl': It's a character piece after the bigger scale narrative. We know what the bigger picture is... But what about this key character in the whole story? And will knowing about this character recontextualize or add even more meat to what we already know? With this in mind, let's talk about it:

Reed detests her circumstances, because Reed had very simple, domestic desires: She wanted a simple, quiet life reading and writing poetry, immersing herself in words and stories. She didn't have any grander aspirations, experiences, or desires beyond "loving poetry" because she was a simple child when she got her head pushed under an ocean of conspiracies and was drowned in them. Since she didn't have the strength of character to really do anything in such a horrifying world, her sister, Eblana, endowed with far stronger character, made her her body double. Reed never questioned it, because she had nothing else going on for her, but the more atrocities she was forced to commit as "The Leader", the more she hated it, and herself for not having it in her to stand up to Dublinn.

Hence why she attempted suicide via standing in an open field that was currently being bombarded. In a turn of events she couldn't have predicted, she was saved by Outcast, and was sent to Rhodes for recovery. She then spent some time in Rhodes Island, recovering, but also, learning. It's noted in her Files that she'd spend a significant amount of time pestering the medical teams in RI for knowledge in the clinical fields. She also requested a new weapon to her specifications, because she hates her spear. This may seem a matter of preference, until you realize that the spear is just Eblana's old weapon, just furthering exactly how much of an un-person she was. She'd use her sister's name, her sister's title, her sister's reputation, her sister's authority, even her sister's damn weapon.

Her chosen codename, "Reed", comes as no surprise: She explicitly says it's because that's how she is: Bland, an accessory, unremarkable, insignificant, like reeds by the river. In this event, we also learn another reason why "Reed" is apt for Loughshinny: Uncontrollably flammable if set ablaze.

Reed was terrified of her own powers. She is a direct descendant of the Red Dragon of Tara, and has insane innate power, namely, power over life itself: The way her flames work is explicitly not fire-aspected Arts: Her Arts allow her to inject pure life into objects and creatures, and the consequence of overcharging skin, muscle tissue, etc with so much life energy so fast and strongly is that it becomes unstable and explodes into raw energy, generating fire as a consequence. It's also why parts of her body, like her tail and her chest, seem to be constantly "ablaze": She is literally overflowing with the essence of life at all times, to the point it hurts her, and coming into contact with her means exploding. She is an almost perfect weapon. She hates it. Even her Rhodes Island evaluation files basically describe her as a stupidly powerful individual.

There's only one thing she doesn't regret about her time in Eblana's Dublinn: She really does care for Tarans, and wants to do anything in her power to help them. The reason she put up with being used and abused in Dublinn (about the only person that showed Reed any kindness in Dublinn was Harmonie, and even then she claims it's because she's interested in Reed and that she may have use for her) was because, Reed told herself, "at least it's for the Tarans". But Reed is not stupid, and over the time, realized that Eblana doesn't mind sacrificing countless Tarans that trust her if it means securing an advantage. That's when Reed decided she'd rather get blown to pieces by artillery rather than continue doing horrible things for someone that doesn't even care about the people that she claims to fight for.

Reed in the event is trying to help this very "little guy", this very scorned Taran, find a foothold. Her story here is, by all means, low stakes for the most part, but it's important in understanding who Reed has finally resolved to become: Her time in Rhodes Island and her new Arts unit allows her to far, far more precisely control her Arts, and now she can use VERY controlled bursts of her Arts to inject life into others without sending their living tissue into disarray, effectively becoming a potent healer. The wounded Tarans even remark that while she didn't give them the most involved treatment for their wounds, they still felt as good as new: It's because Reed isn't doing more than basic first aid, and using this as a disguise to her carefully injecting their wounds with life energy. For Reed, this is massive: She's finally able to like her innate Arts, an intrinsic part of herself, for the first time, because she's finally not using it to turn people to ashes or make them violently explode. She can finally do things differently, and without Eblana pulling her strings, she's finally able to do as she wishes. She ends up creating her very own "Dublinn", with a few Tarans, and looks to the future to do what she never thought she could do, and that's what I really loved: It's a small scale event, but it makes it very clear that from here on, Reed not only has a purpose, she has agency over herself, and finally, finally, she is her own person.

The final "map" of the event was fantastic, narratively speaking: It's a fight with Eblana entirely within her mind, with Eblana wearing a mask in the first phase. Eblana's mechanics involve killing her own units to empower herself, representative of how she's completely willing to kill Tarans for the purposes of Dublinn without any regret, then, in the second phase, she discards her mask and sets every reed in the map ablaze: No matter how much Eblana speaks of loving her and saying she's important to her, Reed has finally come to terms that Eblana WILL simply sacrifice even her when the moment comes, just as she has no issue setting the world on flames if it furthers her desires. The entirety of the map is just Reed finally coming to terms that if she wants to help the Tarans, in her way, she inevitably will come to blows with Eblana at some point, and that there's no space for hesitation, because Eblana sure as hell won't hesitate.

What The Firelight Casts is ultimately a high-impact bildungsroman in which our protagonist finally finds herself, perhaps for the first time ever since she was a toddler, and finally has agency over what she does and why she does it.

There's other parts to the event that I'm not covering that I think were great as well, such as Bagpipe's characterization being pretty damn good and once more winning me over (I started not really caring for her in any way, but her writing is something I like a lot) with how she's clearly not book smart, but is sharp as all hell, and most would call her "naive", when in reality, it's that she has a rock-hard moral compass and will NEVER stop going where it tells her to go, as well as the Taran survivors having plenty of nice scenes, including the incredibly chilling scene where the older lady that can't see in the dark is holding onto Selmon's hand and suddenly she can feel Selmon's blood all over her arm... We just never know what actually it is that killed her in that night skirmish. Fionn's characterization as this cowardly but good chum that will take responsibility no matter what is... Honestly, man, if you hang around sectors with low education and wealth, you know a Fionn or two. Especially when it comes to oppressed and displaced peoples... And the way the narrative portrays the opportunistic and almost callous nature of a bunch of the Taran runaways at times without vilifying it? It's great, the narrative immediately points out, through Reed and Fionn, that yeah, it's just natural because of how awful they've been treated their entire life, there's always people like that in such groups, doing it not out of cruelty, but simply because, damn, they have to survive, and nothing guarantees to them that this stranger with good intentions actually had good intentions. Trying to survive does things to people. This all becomes water under the bridge after Reed properly bonds with them.

I focused on Reed with this post because she's a favorite of mine and I'm happy to see her growth and where she's aiming for, and how she's grown narratively through her experiences and how that reflects on her Arts: True, Arts are a cool power in the narrative, but for Reed, it's more about how her Arts are intrinsically to her self-loathing in the past, and how they reflect her growth as a person: She went from a reluctant walking nuke who could only destroy and justified this by simply saying "it's because my sister knows better and she's doing it for the end goal of the well-being of Tarans... The end justifies the means" to someone who uses her almost unique powers to soothe others after learning some control over them, control that causes physical pain to her, as controlling her immense power feels as if she's searing from the inside, as if her organs were on fire, and comes to believe that, no, the means do in fact matter a whole damn lot, and that she'll one way or another achieve the end while being mindful of the means, even if it means suffering, if it's for her people. Eblana, who also can control life, uses her powers to 'resurrect' and control the dead like puppets, whereas Reed now sears herself from within in order to precisely control this power in order to help those she wants to protect, and drive away those who would hurt her or her friends. In what's a bit of a segregation of narrative and gameplay, whereas she's known for Explosions in gameplay, in the event, Reed exclusively fights with martial arts. In fact, the only time when she actually uses her Arts, she has to suppress them instantly or she was going to just completely incinerate everyone around her. She turns her surroundings to ashes so quickly that Ch'en can only just stare, wide-eyed, at how she completely incinerated a complete installation of military tents in less than a second, with just a small release of her power.

It's great! I love Reed! I wanted to see her growth, a piece focused on her, and it's what I got. I want to know more about the most loving and caring walking nuclear missile in the world with the most hypnotic tail swishes.

#flamyex #arknights #reed

[techs-goggles9902]

Oh oh oh Imma request something 🤔🤔

How about.... female character/reader who is unsure about how she fits in with the bad batch and Tech reassures her?

Was even thinking about my oc Raven and maybe our female character/reader is unsure of her relationship with Hunter and seeks out Tech for (brotherly) assurance 🤔

You can do it however makes sense 😊 also no pressure 💖

Female reader x Tech (platonic)

Summary: You're unsure about your role in the batch and you talk with both Raven and Tech.

No warnings. Fluff and stuff

Word count: 863

a/n: Raven is the lovely oc created by @hellhound5925 ! Go check her out! Sorry Raven doesn’t have a huge role but she’s here! I hope I did her justice 🙏🏻

You sigh, bending over to pick up another piece of mantell mix. 

These things are everywhere! Wrecker, I swear… 

The light chatter from the cockpit reaches your ears as you discard the snack in the small trash bin in the corner of the Marauder. The squad, excluding Tech, are talking about the latest mission. 

Hunter, sitting in the pilot's seat, smiles gently at Omega as she exaggerates how she hustled a man on the last mission in a game of dejarik, earning enough credits to fix the ship. 

“Oh, and then I took out his Ghhhk! He said he’s a ‘Top Tier Player’ but he wasn’t! Hunter, you wouldn’t believe how he put himself in a bad position. Backed himself in a corner!” Omega rants with a grin, making big gestures with her small arms, imitating the game characters. 

Wrecker gives a big, hearty laugh as she continues. Echo sits back in the co-pilot’s chair, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his pale lips. You watch as the girl keeps proudly going on and on about her victory. 

You joined the Batch a few months after they began working for your employer, Cid. Ever since that day where you accompanied them for a mission, you were essentially adopted into their merry band of clones. 

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you sigh again. Although you’re “one of them now”, you still feel as if they have their own little circle that you’re not a part of. How long will it take for them to see me as one of their own? I’m more than capable…

“Hey, you okay? You don’t look the greatest…” A familiar voice says. 

“Raven, hey. I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Just… contemplating things, I suppose.” 

“K’olar,” Raven says, pulling you to the nearest bunk. Lowering yourself onto the bunk, you pick at your nails. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m… not 100% a real squad member. I’m the last addition, not romantically tied to anyone, and just… here,” you admit. Raven has been your lifeline ever since joining the Batch. Both of you are non-clones, even if she did train them, and you related to her the most. 

“Vod… I… I felt that way, too, when I first came along.”

“You did?” Raven nods. 

“Mmhmm. This tight knit group with a very good looking sergeant-” 

“Okay, okay!” You both laugh, easing your nerves. This is why you’ve always liked Raven, she knows how to cheer you up. Always. 

“Cyare, c’mere for a sec,” Hunter calls from the cockpit. Raven gets up and sighs, mouthing the words, so needy, making you giggle once more. 

“Why don’t you go talk to Tech? He listens,” she suggests, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as she walks past you. 

You watch her go and you see a foot dangling from the ceiling panels. Tech…

You push yourself off the bunk and you stand beneath the opening in the ceiling and watch Tech tinker with the ship’s innards. 

“Tech?” 

“Hm? Oh, hello, vod’ika,” Tech replies, leaning over a little to see you better. 

“You don’t need to call me that. I’m older than you are,” you say with a quiet giggle. 

“Well, given the fact my brothers and I age twice as fast as the average being, I am technically older than you, vod’ika,” Tech says with the faint trace of a smile, emphasizing the nickname. 

You scoff with a smile, climbing up into the ceiling with him. He’s slightly hunched over because of his height, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. 

“Can I ask you something, ori’vod?” you ask, fiddling with one of his tools. Tech hums in acknowledgement. 

“I’m not sure if I… If I exactly fit in with you guys. You’re all brothers and I get that but I don’t feel-”

“Vod’ika, you’ve been one of us since the moment Hunter asked you to stick around. Omega especially felt that you would make a good friend, and I agree,” Tech cuts you off, looking away from his tinkering and directly into your eyes. 

“I…I’m a good friend?” You ask. 

“We may not have known each other very long, but you are an adequate fighter and an even more valuable member of our squad.” 

Our squad… Our squad… 

“You think so? Hunter… He’s nice and all but… We haven’t really bonded I guess,” you say with a small sigh. 

“Vod’ika, Hunter has to put up with Omega and Wrecker, has to find us jobs, feed us, and still sees himself as our leader, our sergeant, our protector. I’m honestly astonished he hasn’t gone gray with all the stress,” Tech remarks, that little smile tugging at his lips. That little grin is so contagious, managing to make you smile as well. 

You’re about to say something else when Tech continues, “Echo will come around eventually. He’s lost brothers and he’s distancing himself to save him the pain of losing a sister. I’m sure he’ll soon realize you’re not going anywhere.” 

Not going anywhere… 

“I guess I’m stuck with you, huh?” You say with a smirk, nudging Tech’s elbow. 

“For the long run.”

Glossary:

Cyare = beloved [sha-rey]

K’olar = come here

Vod’ika = little sibling [vohd-eeka]

Vod = sibling

Ori’vod = big sibling [ori-vohd]

Ghhhk = character in the game dejarik

Taglist: @fionajames @sevdidntdie @will-is-silly @skellymom @dangraccoon (feel free to tell me what you want or don't want to be tagged in!)

Dividers by @saradika

#star wars #sha speaks #clone troopers #the bad batch #tbb #the clone wars #tbb tech #clone trooper tech #tech x reader #tech x you #platonic #raven skirata oc by hellhound #tbb echo #tbb hunter #tbb omega

[writerlyhabits]

Aliit ori’shya tal'din

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Your second day in the covert reveals both new and familiar faces; hospitality and hostility.

Chapter 3 of the Shereshoy series | Masterlist | Ch. 2 | Ch. 4

Warnings: lots of Mando’a, mild language, soft Din, awkward Din, protective Din [he’s got a wide range, okay?], original Mandalorian characters… maybe a little bit of angst? It’s mostly worldbuilding, so I think that’s about it. 

AN: A word from the author – “I’m in grad school, I take forever to write things.Soon I will start grad school again, which means I’ll write this instead of my dissertation. I’m quite fond of the Mando Legends Lore, if you haven’t noticed. I literally got Kad Ha’rangir & Arasuum tattooed on me.”

This is the third part of a sister fic for my one-shot (Courting) a friend of mine wrote based on this request, and I’m so happy she’s letting me share it with you guys! She is also sharing it on AO3, so be sure to send her your love and kudos there as well! We hope you enjoy 💛

Translations, in order of appearance:

Aliit ori’shya tal'din: Family is more than blood

Rejorhaa'i kaysh murcyur gar shupur’ika?:  Are you gonna tell her to kiss your ouchies?

Cuyi ulyc, vod.: Be careful, sister.

Aliit: family

Ad(e): child/children

Kar’ta beskar: the central "diamond" of Mandalorian armor; lit. heart armor

Mirjahaal: peace of mind, "healing", general term for emotional well-being especially after a trauma or bereavement

Beroya: bounty hunter

Kurshi: tree

Sen’tra: jackpack

Buir(e): Parent/Parents

Akaanati'kar'oya: The War of Life and Death (Mandalorian myth), creation story

Verd'goten: a special trial for one to become warrior; lit. birth of warrior

So'haale: births

Urman'gedete: prayers

Eparave: feasts

Cyarir evaar'la: Courting

Alii'aliit: meeting of the clans, the closest thing mandalorians have to government or parliament; lit. "clan of clans"

Tsad: group (of people), alliance

Bes'ede: Mythosaur

Kandush : inevitable doom

Time moves differently underground.

With Odona, the hours passed quickly. As a team, you could disassemble and reconstruct nearly any ship in their small fleet, save for a few parts— which no one had yet found and delivered. The days were faster when the guardsman opted to join you in his free time, his first visit and subsequent dialogue with Odona still memorable.

To what do I owe the displeasure; Oh Mighty Protector of the Covert and Savior of Foundlings?

The pleasure of my company is for your friend, ‘Dona.

Why? Going to terrorize her again, Ik’? Ven’rejorhaa'i kaysh murcyur gar shupur’ika?

Cuyi ulyc, vod.

You had sensed there was a joke hidden within their jibes, one you were unable to decipher in their foreign tongue, but neither took the time to explain. Whilst Ikarus lacked use for the labor that required fine motor control, his presence disrupted the monotony of the many tedious and repetitive tasks you and Odona spent much of your time doing— their frequent banter kept you entertained throughout the day. 

The time you had spent in the medbay was shorter— the most common injuries coming from the older adolescents early on in their training, whose resilience and constitution had yet to strengthen— as well as wrist and ankle sprains from poor fighting forms, the occasional laceration from knife safety training; and at worst, injuries from the teens and young adults earned from a vigorous sparring session.

But with Din, the mornings and evenings together never felt long enough. The hours were reminiscent of your time with him and the Child in the Crest, the warmth of your aliit protected by familiar cold walls; the stone of the cavern both analogous yet antithetic to the durasteel of your former home. 

One forged of hands, and the other of time— one of the fires of a furnace, the other the fires of a planet’s mantle. Your time together before was that of contrivance, engineered— with agendas to follow and assignments to complete— your interactions affable yet somewhat artificial, a present barrier precluding your companionship from evolving into something more… More natural, more innate, more intimate. Here, your time together had been more candid, endearing— Din no longer shied away from any probing questions or physical closeness, which allowed that previous barrier to melt and slowly flow away like that of bedrock to magma, reshaping and remolding your times of leisure together to hours of unified repose.

The hours turned to days, the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turn to this moment, where seemingly no time passes at all— blanketed in the familiar darkness of your room. The unlit and chilled space, at first an unacquainted oddity, now a comfortable companion to spend the sleeping and waking hours in. The ritual remains the same— awaken with the Child, have the morning trade-off with Din, make the caf, and begin the tasks for the day— like clock work, a well-oiled droid.

This morning is almost no different, and yet, you hesitate to leave your bed, your conversation with Din the previous morning still fresh in your mind— 

Din had sat aside the table, his body resting against the wall— unarmored, arms crossed, head tilted to the side, the same position as every morning. Once you handed him the Child and sat, caf in hand, he finally spoke.

“I’d like you to join me tomorrow,” he stated. 

The lack of pleasantries from him was unsurprising, though a teasing ‘Good morning to you, Din’ was a tempting response. Instead, you greeted him with a grin and an unobjectionable reply— 

“Alright, what are we doing?” 

He hummed, pleased with your immediate acceptance.

“The adults alternate supervising the ade. Tomorrow, it’ll be our turn.”

You gestured toward the Child in his arms, in a playful retort. “Don’t we supervise this ad every day?”

The Child cooed in his arms, his ears perked tentatively at his mention. Din sighed, with a smile in voice.

“We do. It’s tradition for all of the adults to care for the ade… All have wisdom to share.”

Skeptical, you thought: ‘What would I possibly teach them?’

You observed the Child resting so comfortably on Din’s chest— his tiny hand gripped tightly into Din’s clothes, right where his armor’s kar’ta beskar normally sat. It was a stark contrast compared to the Child’s behavior upon your first meeting. With any loud noises and sudden movements, he would shrink inwards in his cradle— as if he could make himself any smaller. Medical scanners made him grimace, unfamiliar places and people made his ears droop— seeing others upset made him wary. And yet, he was endlessly curious. Despite his initial unease with the two new adults in his life, the Child was quick to trust you both— and with his trust, his personality came through… his affection, his laughter, his love. 

From there, Din learned how to tend to someone outside of himself— what it meant to have someone that relied on him, and more colossally, someone that wanted Din, as he was. The Armorer branded him as the Child’s father, and the delighted squeal from the little one sealed the bond that Din had been trying to hide for so long. Just as the Child learned to trust Din with his welfare, so too did Din learn to trust the Child with his own mirjahaal.  

Perhaps it wasn’t the lessons they taught, but rather the connection they made, and the wisdom they sought.

With this, the true question then inverted from the skeptic ‘what would I teach them’, to the sanguine ‘what will I learn?’...

“...When do we meet them?”

—

To the ade, the former beroya is nothing more than a tall kurshi fit to climb. 

Somehow, Din appears endlessly patient and playful with all six of the young children. They utilize their limitless spurts of energy to continuously attack Din as a squad, bringing him to the ground— he’ll exclaim a faux wail, and collapse to his knees— and the collective giggles of the ade begin the cycle again. 

Whenever a child grows tired of their battle, they come to you— wanting to be tossed into the air, or onto the nearest surface. Supposedly being gently thrown around aids in their brain development, and ‘it’s good practice for their first sen’tra flight’, Din tells you. The logic is questionable at best, but hearing their joyous squeals makes the ever-growing muscle fatigue worthwhile. Even the child of the Djarin clan is as equally amused, his own little spirit mightily lifted by the experience of being with other kids again. 

During your time on Sorgan, the Child was happy to interact with the other children— but mostly, he watched them, rather than play. Perhaps he was still too shy or too wary to fully engage with so many people, but surrounded by these Foundlings now, he looks at home; like he belongs. Amidst this cohort, he’s made a new friend, Mara, the youngest of the lot. Her long and dark hair reminds you— and perhaps the Child— of Winta, Omera’s daughter. The two spent the most time together on Sorgan, and despite the little one’s inability to say, he misses her. 

Mara and the Child sit away from the squad play-fighting Din, in front of the single wall of volcanic tuff— embellished with crimps and pockets, graven by many hands. You watch them, as they examine the wall, looking up and down, side to side. Your eyes travel upward to the small cavate, almost eight feet from the floor. You watch as Mara looks to the Child and nods, and begins her ascent up— using her fingers and toes to grip tightly onto the various crevices in the wall— and the Child begins to follow.

You step forward, almost instinctively, wanting to call out to them to stop, wanting to reach out to the children to prevent a fall—

Then, from nowhere, Din appears at your side, extending his hand to stop you. “Don’t,” he says softly, “Let them try.”

You look at him puzzled, and he continues. “If you distract them now, they might fall…” he pauses, and turns his head to watch them, “...but if you allow them to focus, they can succeed. Watch…” 

The pair silently step closer, closing the distance between themselves and the wall, watching the two ade slowly make their way up to the cavate. Mara climbs inside first, and lays on her belly, reaching out to the Child to help him trek the final span of the wall. Once inside, the Child turns around, to face the entire room below him. He squeals a little clamor of excitement, proud of his triumph, before looking down to his buire.

“Good job, kid,” Din says. “Come on down, it’s time to go.”

The Child looks at you both doe-eyed, his ears drooping, as he peers over the ledge. He looks back to Mara, and back down over the ledge, contemplating his next move. 

You lean slightly towards Din, speaking in a hushed tone. “I don’t think he knows how to get back down.”

“He can do it,” Din says confidently. 

You challenge him, “He looks scared.” 

Din insists, “Then he’ll do it scared.” 

He steps forward once more, his body almost pressed against the wall, reaching one hand up. “Come on kid, climb down.”

The child’s ears droop even lower, letting out a quiet whimper, a little anxious look on his face. He looks back up to Mara, who gives him an encouraging “You can do it,” before he finally begins his descent towards you and Din. 

Carefully, his little clawed feet grip into the same pockets he used to climb up, and his hands hold onto the ledge. He looks down at his buire with a slightly quivering lip, then back up to his hands. Slowly, he presses on, his movements deliberate and cautious, gravity tugging at his little limbs with relentless persuasion, clammy clawed-hands threatening to slip free from the cold stone. His disgruntled babbling fading with each tentative step, footfalls growing more steady with every downward stride. 

His little foot finally reached something soft— the hand of his buir, waiting for his arrival. With an excited squeal, he looks to Din, holding out his clawed fingers for Din to grasp. Din takes the Child into his arms.

“Good job… I knew you could do it.” Din whispers to him.

With his ad in hand, Din looks back to the cavate, where Mara sits silently. “You too, Mara, come down,” he says. 

Mara, unlike the little one, is less graceful, only climbing down two feet of wall before leaping off. You instinctively reach your arms out to catch her, but are a few seconds too late, as she lands confidently on her feet, smiling up at you. She giggles, asking the Child “Wasn’t that fun!” and the little one cooing affectionately with a bright smile.

“They need to rest.” Din says, before leading Mara and the Child back with the other ade. You follow him in toe, and aid him while he attempts to settle the children in preparation for them to sleep. 

The chamber is bathed in the soft, warm light of the cressets along the walls. The ade sit and lay in a circle on the floor, looking up at the two adults expectedly, waiting for you both to join them. Din gently places the Child in Mara’s lap, seating himself amongst them. 

The ade demanded a story before they would agree to their midday nap, and with only one long sigh, Din relented. As you sit beside him, the tale of Akaanati'kar'oya begins.

—

In ages past, when cosmic realms were naught,

Two gods emerged, each with a purpose sought.

Kad Ha'rangir, embodiment of change,

A dance of growth, His essence did arrange.

Arasuum, the god of slow decay,

In stillness thrived, where life would fade away.

Eternal foes, in battle they engaged,

Ideals clashed, the cosmic script was paged.

Kad Ha'rangir, with eyes of vibrant light,

Envisioned galaxies in endless flight.

His very step, a ripple through the void,

Transforming all, where life and change enjoyed.

Arasuum, with eyes as deep as night,

Desired a realm where stasis held its might.

Decay His touch, a silent, withering breath,

A universe in stillness, touched by death.

In ceaseless clash, their cosmic struggle roared,

A dance of gods, where destinies were stored.

Stoic truths emerged from this grand design,

A tale of action, life's breath so divine.

"For action is the breath that life bestows,

A vital force, as mighty river flows.

Inaction, slow demise, a creeping shade,

A silent death in stillness' dark cascade."

Through galaxies and time, the story spread,

Of Kad Ha'rangir, where change was bred.

Arasuum's touch, a cautionary tale,

A realm in stillness, where all things frail.

So heed the moral, in verses spun,

That action is life, beneath the sun.

For inaction's grasp, a silent breath,

A slow demise, an encroaching death.

—

The ade rest together in a haphazard heap of limbs on various bedcovers and furs draped across the floor. Exhausted from their Beroya Battles and abseil adventures, they finally sleep, leaving the two adults to quietly watch over them together. In the chamber’s silent embrace, the air hangs heavy and chilled— a symphony of stillness envelops the room, broken by the muted shuffle of shifting bodies, and the hushed breaths of the ade. The only audible rhythm is that of the pulsating cadence of your own heartbeat and the rush of blood moving inside your head. 

Your eyes scan over the ade, finding a sense of calmness watching their steady breaths, in… out. 

In… out.

In… out.

Your gaze once again falls onto the Child, cuddled against Mara, also breathing steadily. In the gentle cradle of his friend’s arms, he looks peaceful. Had he ever slept this soundly on the Crest?... Who held him every night before us? Who will take care of him after us?

In the softest whisper, to not disturb the ade, you lean closer to Din, telling him the obvious— “He’s happy here.”

“...Yes,” Din replies, just as quietly. 

“Was this your experience, too? After the Mandalorians saved you?”

“No.”

His visor is trained on the little one’s sleeping face—the same face of a child who was once trapped in the suffocating darkness of a sealed cradle—a cage, a cage whose opening only revealed another prison, in the form of two bounty hunters hovering over him like… a B2 Battle Droid, with a blaster pointed in a child’s face. A child rescued from death at the last possible moment by a shiny warden, offering an adiaphorous detainment. 

“It was… a time of war. I was trained to fight in it. I hope… that they never have to.” Din says, his gaze scanning over the ade once more. 

“I thought all Mandalorians were warriors.”

He, too, believed the same notion for many years. Training from the day he was rescued to the day he became an adult, after his verd'goten, life became a perpetual streak of jobs. Commission, retrieval, payment. Commission, retrieval, payment… Until a strange, golden, aureate armorsmith joined his tribe, bringing tales of the “Great Forge of Mandalore,” and the songs of the artificers that echoed through the speos as they worked. He remembers the first time he kneeled in front of her small, austere forge, in a dark room beneath a busy market above, listening as she spoke of the ethos, the rites, the latria, the true way of the Mandalore. 

“No. Everyone is trained to survive. But… we used to live, too.” 

“...Until Mandalore was taken.”

“Yes.”

So'haale, urman'gedete, eparave, cyarir evaar'la, alii'aliit… A cultus he could only dream of, but never truly have. Spoken knowledge fades into whispers, slipping through his fingers like sand as the voices of the ancestors grow ever fainter. Each decampment a dissolution of tsad res publica, each step forward a battle against oblivion. 

“I’m sorry.” You lean over, resting your head on his pauldron. “...Maybe there’ll come a time when we’ll live in the light, on a planet that welcomes us.” 

Din knows that within every Mandalorian is a patchwork of unfamiliar faces and ever-changing landscapes, their solace and safety as elusive as a bes'ede itself—and yet they endlessly repugn the kandush they have faced time and time again, guided by the conviction that within the uncertainty of the cosmos lay the promise of a sanctuary forged from the resilience of their spirit. 

He tilts his head, resting it atop yours. “There will.”

Ali'nare vencuyanir yaim. This is the Way.   

Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mando'a #original mandalorian character #shereshoy #shereshoy series #not my writing #i have permission to post this

[fae-felix]

Watching a vod cus I missed a stream

WHY ARE MARTYN AND SCOTT SIMPING FOR THE MONSTER HUNTER GUY!?

#pirates smp #scott smajor #martyn inthelittlewood #scurvyblr

[mwolf0epsilon]

Dogma's Cyberbully

Dogma, grumbling to himself in the Guard Barracks while looking through his personal datapad: You've got to be kidding me... Hound, looking over at him: What's wrong? Dogma: For the last couple of weeks I've had the same person come after me on all my social media accounts. I think they're trying to get a rise out of me for some inexplicable reason... Hound: Oh? Dogma: They're literally trying to pick fights every time I post... From posting stupid things in response to my posts like 'Actually you're wrong because I think you're wrong', to replying to my comments with factually inaccurate bantha crap they pull out of thin air... Hound: Oof, sounds like you have your very own personal cyberbully vod! Slick, perking up: Oh shit, for real? Let me have a look, Dog! Dogma, glaring slightly at Slick but handing over the datapad: Knock yourself out, it never ends. Slick, scrolling through Dogma's notifications and whistling: Wow, they're absolutely committed... Dogma, groaning: I know... It's so draining... Slick: Eh, also easy to deal with. Just make 20 or so new alt accounts and start bully them back until they learn to back the hell off. Dogma and & Hound: Slick: Trust me, it works. I'll do it for you if you like, free of charge. Dogma: There is something terribly wrong with you. Slick: Probably!

---A week later---

Tech, staring at his datapad in dismay: Crosshair, have you per chance been using my personal pad without my knowledge or permission? Crosshair, shrugging nonchalantly: Maybe... Why? Tech: Because it appears I have 27 accounts sending me various messages to the effect of telling me to 'KYS'... Crosshair, perking up with a devious grin: Oh, so the guy has a posse to back him up. This should be entertaining... Tech, groaning because he's going to have to deal with the consequences of his brother's actions: Why did I expect better from you? Crosshair: No idea why you'd consider me that weak, now hand over the datapad. I've got people's holonet lives to ruin. Tech: I am beginning to understand why Hunter suffers so regularly from stress-induced headaches.

#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #clone trooper dogma #sergeant hound #sergeant slick #tech #crosshair #coruscant guard dogma #coruscant guard slick

[kybercrystals94]

Haunting Failures

By KyberCrystals

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023|Day 23|Alternative Prompt: Aftermath of Failure

Rating: T

Words: 745

Summary: Hunter has a nightmare.

CW: Some disturbing images…nothing too graphic, but I just thought I’d mention it.

Hunter is running, boots pounding into packed, dry earth. Ashes drift like snowflakes against a blood red sky, the sun blotted by dense smoke. Hunter is alone, weaving through a battlefield devoid of life, but reeking of death. Bodies, machine and flesh, litter the expanse of land. Hunter tries to ignore them, tries to focus on the one sound that matters, the one thing that matters.

The one person that matters.

“Hunter! Help me!” Crosshair’s voice. Frantic, desperate. “Please!”

Hunter runs harder. He scales another obstacle, nearly loses his footing.

“I’m falling! Hunter!”

“I’m coming!” Hunter calls out, “Hold on, Cross. Just hold on!”

He sees his brother, panicked movements, hands clawing at the ground, searching for a hold on the barren terrain. The sniper is being dragged over the edge of a ravine; his body tangled in the wires of something pulling him over.

“Crosshair!” Hunter dives for him, catching his wrist just as his brother falls. “I’ve got you.”

“You’re going to let me go,” Crosshair gasps.

Hunter shakes his head. “No, I won’t, vod. Just hold on, I’m going to cut the wires away and pull you up.” Hunter reaches for his blade.

Crosshair stares up at him, eyes wide. “You gave up on me. You didn’t even try.”

“I’m trying right now, Cross, just hold on.”

“It’s too late, Hunter. You let me go.”

“That’s not true,” Hunter grits out, the blade of his knife finding the thin edges of the wires wrapped around Crosshair’s armored body. “Just hold on.”

“I thought we don’t leave our own behind,” Crosshair says, but his voice has changed. His expression has changed. He looks enraged, a fiery glint to his eyes. “I trusted you!”

And suddenly, Crosshair falls.

Hunter blinks, horror clouding his mind. “Crosshair!” he screams into the abyss.

“You let him go.”

Hunter turns and Tech is standing there, holding Crosshair’s helmet. The helmet has a crack near the right temple. Hunter scrambles shakily to his feet. “No. No, I didn’t. I tried…”

“Not hard enough, obviously,” Tech tells him. “Because now he’s gone.”

Tech drops the helmet, and it rolls toward Hunter, stopping at his feet. He stares at it, at the crack, at the familiar visor. He looks back up at Tech. Tech’s goggles are shattered on his face, his armor broken. He is barely standing, swaying.

“I couldn’t save him, Hunter,” Tech says. A thin trickle of blood escapes the corner of Tech’s mouth, and his eyes roll back. He starts to fall backwards.

“No!” Hunter lunges forward, catching Tech’s forearm.

But Tech is gone, and Omega is struggling in his grip, trying to pull away from him. “Let me go! We have to save them!” she shrieks.

“Omega!” Hunter cries, “Listen to me, it’s too late. They’re gone.”

“They’re not gone! You are giving up on them! You’re going to leave them behind!”

Hunter pulls her close to him, kneeling to look her in the eye. “Omega, please…”

“You failed them! You failed all of us!”

“Omega…”

“No! Let me go!” Omega thrashes against him, fists pounding against his chest. “You failed us! You failed us!”

“No, please,” Hunter begs.

Omega snarls. “You never cared about Crosshair. That’s why you left him, isn’t it? You let Tech fall. You let Hemlock take me.”

“No, no, no…” Hunter shakes his head, closing his eyes so he doesn’t see the fury in his sister’s face.

“Hunter!”

Hunter wakes with a panicked sob, sitting upright so fast his head collides with the bunk above him; however, the pain of the impact feels like nothing compared to the turmoil of emotions making his heart pound and eyes sting with unshed tears.

“Easy, easy,” Echo’s voice soothes. “You were having a nightmare.”

Hunter turns to look at the clone sitting beside him. “It felt real…” he pants out, his breaths shuddering in his lungs. “I lost them all, Echo…it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t let Crosshair go…”

“No, you can’t think like that,” Echo says firmly. He takes Hunter’s hand, squeezing it so tight it hurts.

“And Tech,” Hunter continues, “he wouldn’t have died if we had gotten to Crosshair sooner…we should have made him come with us at Kamino. We should never have left him behind.”

Echo shakes his head. “Hunter…”

“And Omega…I promised to protect her.” Hunter begins to cry, the voices of his nightmare whispering in his memories. He failed them. He failed all of them.

END

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista

✨Let me know if you’d like to be added to my Tag List!✨

#Whumptober 2023 #Day 23 #Alternative Prompt #Aftermath of Failure #Star Wars #Star Wars the Bad Batch #The Bad Batch #Nightmares #Night Terrors #Character Death Mentioned #Hunter Whump #TBB Hunter #TBB Crosshair #TBB Tech #TBB Omega #TBB Echo #arc trooper echo #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #Hurt No Comfort #fics by kyber

[deejadabbles]

hi deeja! song for writing prompt: somebody else by the 1975!!

Send me a song and I'll write something for it's ~vibe~

My brain heard those first lyrics and went "Oh, pain and heart ache? Guess I'm going to put Echo through torture :) :) :)" Thank you for this, I think I actually needed to dive into some angst ;w;

Warnings for: just general heartbreak, past relationships, mentions of physical and emotional torture and explorations of trauma (takes place right after Echo's rescue), and no happy resolutions

Echo's head was still spinning.

After the harrowing escape from Skako Minor, his body was depleted, aching in a bone-deep emptiness he couldn't explain. His mind, his soul, felt like they were out of his body, hovering in empty space.

Hovering in that endless void of numbers and calculations.

"No, stop, don't go there. You're safe- you're out! Rex came back for you, Rex saved you! Everything was going to be okay."

That's the thought Echo forced into his mind. And it helped that Kix was there, by his side. The medic was a godsend. He hadn't needed to say anything, about the droids, about how feeling their cold metal on his skin made him want to scream and throw up and cry and shut down all the same time. Echo didn't need to explain, Kix had sent them out of the med bay immediately and it was only warm, human hands that examined him, that cared for him.

Even still, as he lay on the hospital bunk, he couldn't help but yearn for a certain pair of careful hands. Of loving hands. Hands that always knew how to soothe him.

"Kix," his voice barely sounded like his own, raw and sore, "I need a comm link."

The medic, who had been looking at his vitals like a hawk, met his eyes, "What's that?"

"I need to contact her, need to tell her I'm okay." 'Need to hear her voice, need to tell her I love her'

Something in the way Kix's face slid into something somber put him on high alert, like sensing a hidden enemy. Echo's body tensed as he watched Kix set his data pad aside. The look in the medic's eyes, the way he stepped towards Echo, it was like he was scared of spooking an injured tooka.

"I...don't think that's a good idea, vod."

"Why?" he didn't mean for it to come out like a growl, but there were a thousand different thoughts running through his head now. Were you okay? Was there some reason Kix didn't trust him to contact you? Was-

"Echo." Kix's tone was firm, but not unkind, and maker, the sadness and pity in his eyes made Echo want to scream. "Brother, you were gone for a long time."

'No.'

"We- everyone thought you were dead...."

'No!'

"...She thought you were dead, for a long time."

Ringing filled his ears, drowning out whatever Kix said next. His soul felt like it was drifting again, mind fading to black as realization bombarded him all at once.

Of course you had moved on. Why wouldn't you? Why would you hold on to a ghost? To a corpse?

Why would Echo be allowed any shred of his old life?

It was just another loss. Another thing they had taken from him. Another part of him that was sawed open and ripped from his person, like his limbs, his mind, his humanity.

After all this, how could he have hoped that he could still have you?

~*~

The Bad Batch was rarely on Coruscant, according to Hunter, but their ship was in need of repairs and here they were.

When Echo had mentioned a few adventures he and the 501st had at 79s, the others insisted they show him this spot, eager to unwind during their rare shore leave.

Echo was already a few drinks in when Crosshair goaded him into being the one to get their next round. "If that scomp limb doesn't get the barkeeps attention nothing will," he had said, eyeing the extremely crowded bar. Echo wanted to say Wrecker was sure to get more attention, but decided he'd take the chance to stretch his legs.

He was just in the middle of waving someone down when he saw it.

Echo would recognize that jacket anywhere, it was one of your favorite things in the world, your statement piece, and so distinctly you.

You.

You were on other side of the bar, and he felt like an idiot. How could he not think he'd run into you here? How could he have agreed to come when he knew this was your go to nightly spot?

How could he risk seeing you with him.

You were smiling, laughing at something he whispered into your ear, his arm wrapped around you warmly. You were smiling and laughing in the way Echo used to make you smile and laugh.

His body felt too tight all of the sudden, warm and sweaty and shaky, and before he knew it, Echo was bursting out the door, his body moving- running of its own accord.

Echo hadn't been aware enough to realize that you had spotted him too, not until he stopped in his tracks at the sound of your angelic voice.

Again he was moving as if someone else was controlling his body as he turned. There you were, backlit by the neon lights of the city, eyes wide, fist clenched over your heart, and your whole body was shaking.

You looked just as perfect as he remembered. More so, even.

"Echo," emotion broke the name in half when you said it, and Echo felt his body come alive. "Echo, is that really you?"

This was wrong, this was all wrong.

You were out of his reach, out of his life, gone. You were the past he couldn't wallow in. You were the love and touch and body he wasn't allowed to want. Your love and touch and body were somebody else's now.

And it wasn't fair of Echo to ruin that for you, or for that somebody else.

As much as it pained him, if you showed any signs that your heart was still his, Echo would break it, right here.

That's all he could do, for your sake, for his, and for that somebody else.

#this idea definitely got away from me! #blame it on me tapping into the angst I have planned for my Echo series #this would be kinda of a 'what if' alternate time line for that I guess lol #also I hope I got the vibe right?? the first part might not fit but I think I pulled it back with the second part #echo x reader #echo x you #tbb echo x reader #deeja writes

[corazondebeskar-reads]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 28: Cuckolding (Din Djarin & Boba Fett)

copaani gaan?

Kinktober 2023 - Day 28: Cuckolding

Din Djarin x f!reader x Boba Fett

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Din catches you blushing after Boba Fett flirts with you. He instigates and encourages you to fuck Fett while he watches.

Warnings: cuckolding, d/s undertones, dom!Din if you squint, degradation, mild objectification and humiliation, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, masturbation, voyeurism, less mando'a than usual but still some mando'a, din and boba both speak mando'a, vaguely tbobf related but hardly compliant, reader is Din's pilot, rip razor crest

Prompts from this list by @absurdthirst.

also on ao3

You’re at the bar nursing a Fuzzy Tauntaun when you see him—the man who must be Boba Fett. You’ve heard of him, of course. Everyone in the Outer Rim has. But to see him is an entirely different story. The legends haven’t exaggerated his force of presence. A gravitational pull draws everyone’s eyes to him, full of fear and desire.

You’re certainly not immune.

But this thing, whatever it is, with Din is new, and you like it. You do. So you feel a little bad when Fett winks at you, and your heart flutters. You flush as he approaches, leaning against the bar.

“Long day of travel?” he asks, dipping his head toward your drink.

You’re wary. He seems to be flirting, but bounty hunters do as they must to catch a quarry. You take a sip, let him wait for a moment. “What makes you think I’m traveling?”

“Oh, I think I’d remember seeing you around my city, little one,” he says, stepping closer.

You wait for the muzzle of his blaster or the cold clasp of his cuffs, but he doesn’t touch you at all. He splays a hand across the bar and quirks his lips when your eyes follow the motion.

“Mind if I try?” he asks, though he’s already helping himself to your drink.

My city, you run his words around. Oh, stars. He’s taken over the Hutt dynasty, hasn’t he?

He pulls a face when he sets your drink back down. “Can’t say I care much for that.”

“It’s the foam. Puts a lot of people off.” You haven’t a clue what’s in it, but it makes your lips and tongue tingle.

“I imagine it might feel nicer if it was less intense.”

You can’t argue with that, but he pushes on before you have to worry about a response.

“Why don’t you take a drink and show me how it feels second-hand?”

It’s smooth. It’s really fucking smooth, and it goes right to your cunt. You kind of can’t believe he’s being so bold, but also, you panic.

“I—um, I’m not—”

He takes mercy on you and chuckles, stepping back just enough to give you an out. “I understand.”

You keep opening and closing your mouth, trying not to ask him to stay so you can find out if he has the cock to back up the confidence. You’re “saved” in the worst way.

“Cyar’ika, I see you’ve met my vod,” Din says from behind you, setting a hand on your shoulder.

You startle and look at him. He’s looking at Fett, who raises a brow.

“I didn’t know you knew Boba Fett,” you hiss.

He gently takes your chin and turns your face back to Fett. “Don’t let me interrupt. You looked like you had something to say?”

“Ah, no, nothing.” You shrink into him, back pressed to his chest.

“She’s not usually shy,” Din tells Fett. “She must have liked whatever you offered.”

You’re mortified. You want to run away, but your boots seem to have been welded to the cantina floor, and Din’s arm has wrapped around your chest anyway. His grip is tight like he knew you were a flight risk.

“Is that so?” Fett says, reaching out to brush a thumb over your lips.

You gasp. Din laughs under his breath, a soft, dangerous thing. A sound that usually means he’s going to tease you until you beg for him.

“Am I right, cyar’ika? Do you want him to kiss you?”

You try to turn to look at him, sputtering protests, but he holds you firmly in place.

“I need an answer, sweetheart.” Fett’s hand is a balm when he cups your burning cheek.

“Go ahead, cyar’ika,” Din murmurs. “You can have this, if you want it.”

You nod.

It’s all the permission Fett needs to lean forward and sear himself to you. It’s not a fight for dominance like you expected. His kiss is deep and strong, but he meets you where you are and doesn’t push. He pulls away sooner than you’d have liked.

Fett doesn’t miss the way you just barely move to chase his lips. He grins.

“You want more?” Din asks.

You should be afraid, you think, trapped as you are, a womp rat between two loth-cats, being batted back and forth for the thrill of it.

Fett kisses you again before you can protest. This time, he licks inside your mouth and pulls a moan from you that turns into a quiet whine when he pulls abruptly away.

“Talk it over before you arrive,” he tells Din, gives you a nod, and strides out of the cantina.

Din doesn’t release you yet, wise to the way your shoulders have stiffened. “Oh, sweetheart,” he croons. “Are you mad you might get what you want?”

“Did you plan this?” you snap.

“No,” he loosens his grip so you can turn to face him. “But when I saw the look on your face, I couldn’t resist.”

You’re abruptly aware of the crowd around you, the drone of the patrons and the bass of the band, the way the desert sucks up the sweat and hot breaths but leaves the heat between the bodies.

“Let’s go back,” Din says.

You’re grateful for the out, grateful for the second man that night to pick up on cues you didn’t know you were giving and help you give voice to them.

Though you and Din speak on your ship, it seems to be forgotten when you leave for Fett’s palace. You had come to Tatooine for a reason, as you’re reminded when you enter the war room.

Fett says nothing, doesn’t look at you, gives no indication he knows you’re in the room. Actually, why are you in the room? There’s no use for you in this meeting, no role for you to play. Din’s here as muscle. It’s not something you can contribute to.

You’re just the pilot. Whatever the Mandalorian has gotten involved with here is bigger than a bounty. When Din is engaged in the strategic discussions, you slip out the door and back into the main chamber.

You’re not alone for long. Fett seats himself at the booth you had tucked away into. He stays across the table from you in an intentional maneuver, and you’re grateful for both the barrier and the escape route.

“Shouldn’t you be in there?” you ask.

“I would, if I could have gotten a word in. Shand and Djarin can handle it. Shouldn’t you be in there?”

“No? I don’t have to follow him around like a youngling.”

“I didn’t think that you did. I just thought you might like to know what he’s volunteered you for.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a fighter.”

“No, but he says you’re a skilled pilot, and that those talents translate to speeders. I could use someone standing by for evac.”

“Oh.” You’ve only driven a speeder with him once. Countless times before that, sure, but never around the Mandalorian. His confidence in you is like a hot cup of caf at dawn. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He grins. “You have my gratitude. I know this is not your fight.”

“I just go where I’m needed.”

“What about what you need?” His face has drawn serious, his smile twisting into careful consideration, his voice raspy and thick.

Your cheeks burn. “I get what I need.”

You startle for the second time in one day when Mando sets a hand on your shoulder. He’s so damn quiet. You shoot Fett a glare when you see the glint in his eye.

“Getting started without me?” Din says. His gloved hand slides to hold the nape of your neck, giving a soft squeeze. “If that’s still what you want, cyar’ika?”

You look up at him and nod, all your nerves backing up at the base of your throat. He doesn’t take pity on you, tipping his head toward Fett.

You swallow around your fear and look at the older man. “Would you—I mean, I don’t wish to presume, but—”

Fett does take pity on you. He reaches across the table and covers one of your hands with his broad, scarred palm, fingers curling around to hold you. “I would be honored to share in whatever you’re willing to give.”

You feel dizzy, with both of their hands on you, even chastely. You swallow again and nod.

He stands but doesn’t release you. “Come,” he beckons. Mando moves to let you up and follows you with a hand at the dip of your spine.

When the three of you are safely in his bedroom, he turns to face you and gives your hand another gentle squeeze. “You can change your mind at any time, alor’ika.”

Din puts his hands on your waist. “I think she wants another kiss, vod.”

Fett obliges, capturing your face in one hand while the other cups the back of your neck. You moan, leaning in, and he deepens the kiss.

“Good girl, just relax,” Din murmurs. His hands find the hem of your blouse, and you obediently break the kiss to allow him to remove it entirely.

Fett drags his lips down your jaw to your neck, sucking and biting as you tremble.

Din fondles your bare breasts with his rough gloves, and you whimper. Fett leans down and takes a nipple in his mouth while Din offers you up for him to devour. You think you might be losing your mind.

“Fuck,” you whisper, back arching when he gently tugs with his teeth. “Oh, fuck.”

“Taste her,” Din tells him.

Fett releases your breast with a soft pop and stands up to his full height. “Would you like that, alor’ika?”

You moan, reaching for both of them at once, fisting a hand in Fett’s sleeve and wrapping your arm back around Din’s neck. “Please,” you whine.

Din peels your hand off and pushes you toward Fett, who pulls you in tandem toward the bed. You climb up eagerly, and he pulls you to the edge and sinks to his knees. You reach your arms to Din, hoping he’ll join you on the bed, but he shakes his head.

“No. I’d like to watch.” The modulator crackles, adding an edge to his desires.

“She liked that,” Fett tells him, spreading your lips and smirking when you gasp.

“Did she?” Din muses, a little breathless, as he leans against the bedpost to get a better view. “What a filthy girl.”

Fett kisses your clit, and you jerk back at the sudden burst of heat, but he drags your hips back down where he wants them. He uses both thumbs to part you like a plump orange, and licks into your cunt.

He takes you apart far faster than you’d like, the combination of his firm hands and hot tongue drawing your orgasm rapidly. But he doesn’t leave you a moment to feel disappointed, as he sucks hard on your clit and dips two fingers all the way in.

He sets a torturously slow pace, working in a third finger and stroking you relentlessly until he pulls another climax from you.

“She’s ready,” Din says.

“I’m not finished,” Fett says, curling his fingers and picking up speed. He has to use his other arm to hold you down as you writhe.

You grasp onto Din’s hand, desperate to hold something real as Fett pries another orgasm from you, scraping his teeth on your raw clit. You scream, and Din squeezes your hand.

“I’ve got you,” he says, crouching down next to the bed near your face and brushing sweat from your forehead. He sets his other hand on your sternum, the solid weight a warm embrace.

You cry out as Fett withdraws his fingers and strokes them over your clit.

“So pretty,” he croons.

“That’s enough,” Din says, sharp and commanding.

Fett leans back on his haunches and regards you.

You worry Din’s gone too far. This is Boba Fett he’s talking to. You’re not sure he’s used to being told what to do.

But Fett surprises you again. “Are you okay, alor’ika?” he asks as he stands, leaning over to get a better look at your expression. His voice is coarse but soft. Genuine.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. You wipe your hands over your face and look between Fett and Din. “I’m okay, I’m good,” you say.

They exchange a look, and you think you may have underestimated how well they know each other because Fett clearly understands what Din’s posture and body language are saying. You don’t even know half the time, and you’ve been flying him around for half a cycle.

“Please,” you say, worried they’re going to stop.

They look back at you at the same time, which is a little eerie, but they must see something in your pleading eyes and parted lips that they find acceptable, because Fett climbs up between your legs, letting you wind them around him as he presses his still clothed cock against your bare cunt.

“How do you want it?” he asks between kisses that are more teeth than tongue.

You look at Din, unable to find the words you need as your hips rock against Fett.

“She wants it however you want it,” Din says confidently, not needing to see the way you nod in agreement, “But—” He pauses to shake his head as you whine. “I want a nice view.”

Fett moves, and Din offers his hand to you, pulling you to sit while Boba seats himself behind you.

“Come here,” Fett rasps, grabbing for your hips and pulling you back to him. He moves you like a puppet, and you go where he desires. Once you’re perched on his lap, your back against his chest, he helps lift you up to notch his cock at your entrance before pulling you down on him, agonizingly slow.

The two of you, as one, are toward the back of the bed, and Din kneels in front of you, palming himself through the flightsuit as he watches Fett’s cock make itself at home in your cunt. He’s not quite as thick as Din, but about half an inch longer and takes his time while you squirm and attempt to grind down faster.

Fett swats at your thigh, drawing a yelp of surprise. “Patience, little one,” he says, and laughs when you double down on your efforts.

Din tips your chin up with his fingers. “Be good, cyar’ika,” he warns.

You shudder and nod, but try to catch his fingers in your mouth.

He pulls them away and shakes his head. “I’m just watching this time. Don’t get greedy.”

You try to ask what he means by ‘this time,’ but Fett sees the opportunity to thrust up hard, punching the breath from your open mouth before you moan your appreciation.

“She’s spoiled,” Fett tells Din.

“I know; I can’t help it. She’s so pretty when she cums.”

You can’t believe they’re still talking about you like you’re some kind of toy, negotiating how you can be played with, and comparing notes. You can't believe how wet it makes you.

“You hear that, alor’ika? He thinks you’re pretty when you fall apart for us, too.” He’s fucking hard and fast into you now and reaches his hand down to your abused clit. He grants mercy this time and touches you gently, barely-there flutters and soft, steady pressure.

Din, missing a glove now, pulls his cock out. He reaches down to where Fett has you split around him and coats his hand in your slick, stroking it over himself and fucking into his fist.

They must be doing the weird communication thing again over your shoulder because Din nods and matches Boba’s pace with his hand.

You’re close, so close, and your mouth hangs open as you stare at Din. You want him. You want them both. You whine and stick your tongue out, hoping he’ll get the message, but when he looks at you, he just laughs.

“I told you no, sweetheart,” he says. “How’s he feel?”

“Fuck, good, so good.”

“Yeah? You going to cum on his cock for me?”

“Please.”

Din looks at Boba again. “What do you think, Fett? Can she take it?”

“She’s going to have to,” Fett says. His fingers on your clit rub just a little harder, just a little faster, and your thighs are shaking. “Go on, then,” he murmurs in your ear.

You cry out as he pushes his thumb down and grinds it against you, feeling you clamp down around his cock. You arch your back against him, but he puts a hand on your shoulder blade and bends you forward, the other hand tight on your hip to keep himself buried.

You’re sort of aware, as you twitch and clench around him, that he begins to cum, but you’re distracted from the feeling when Din shoves his cock into your mouth. He thrusts once, twice, and then comes. It’s messy. You’re unable to focus on swallowing with all the other stimuli, and it pushes you over the edge again.

He eases you off his softening cock, and Fett pulls you back by the shoulder. He leans you both back, turning onto his side so you find yourself cradled in his strong, warm arms. Din sits on the edge of the bed and brushes his fingers through your hair as you tremble.

As you come back to yourself, Fett draws away a little. Shifts his hand to rest on your arm, puts a little space between your bodies. You’re falling asleep, but you miss the way he was curled around you.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your hair. “Thank you, alor’ika.”

Something silent passes between Din and Fett. Another conversation you’re left out of, but you’re too tired to care, especially when it results in Fett settling back onto the bed next to you and Din finding room on your other side.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x reader x boba fett #boba fett x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #kinktober 2023 #the mandalorian fic #this was meant to be a companion piece to mhi me'dinui an but it ran away from me #it can be if you pretend it's a different fight

[dangraccoon]

Jari'eyc - Chapter 4

Read on AO3

Word Count: 2136

Warnings: References to TCW Citadel Arc and Clone Conspiracy Arc, Domino Twin Reunion, Masking/Ignoring Emotions, Grief, Crosshair needs a hug

Mando'a Translation: uja - honey/sugar Eyay'ika - Little Echo vod - brother

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“How’s he doing?” Hunter asked when Crosshair had returned to the cockpit. 

“Confused and upset,” he sighed. “So pretty much back to normal. Omega hasn’t left his side in hours.”

“Figured she wouldn’t,” Hunter nodded. “Probably scared her.”

“She was just getting used to his nightmares, too. This might set that back a bit.”

Hunter nodded a little again, hands tapping at his legs. 

“Let’s go,” Crosshair said a few moments later. 

“Go?”

“Find them.”

-

Raze and Fives had been holding each other closely on the floor, taking deep breaths together. Echo was alive. 

Both heads snapped towards the door as a knock startled them. They exchanged a glance, retrieving their masks before stepping towards the door. 

“Who is it?” Fives called, voice altered by his mask. 

“Hunter and Crosshair,” the sergeant answered. “We just want some answers.”

Fives looked at Raze. He could practically feel her anxiety, but she nodded anyway. 

Taking a deep breath, Fives hit the button to open the door. 

“Thanks,” Hunter said, stepping into the room. 

“How did you find us?” Raze asked, brow furrowed. 

“Enhanced senses,” he shrugged. “Just tracked you here.”

“Not that hard when he knows the exact scent a reg gives off,” Crosshair added, eyeing Forn. 

Raze’s eyes widened as she watched her companion remove his mask. 

Fives stood, seemingly unaffected by the intense scrutiny the other clones put him under. 

“‘Fives’, right?” Hunter asked. 

“Yeah,” he said.

“Echo said you were dead.”

“Probably what Rex told him.”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed at the other clone, but Crosshair turned and started to examine Raze, who shifted uncomfortably in his gaze. “Why would Rex lie?” 

“He told what he thought was the truth,” Raze answered. 

“So why does Rex think he’s dead?” Crosshair drawled, stepping slightly closer to her. 

A firm hand landed on his shoulder. 

“Best you back up,” Fives growled. 

“Relax,” Crosshair smirked, his attention still focused on the woman in front of him. “I’m practically harmless.”

“I think everyone just needs to take a breath,” Hunter voiced. Without turning around, Crosshair knew he was the subject of his signature “Command Glare” - something his brother had picked up from Cody over the years. 

Crosshair pulled away from Fives and Raze, skulking back towards Hunter. 

“Look, we’ll get out of your hair,” Hunter said with a sigh. “But Echo’s a smart man. He’ll start to figure this all out soon, if he hasn’t already.”

Fives and Raze exchanged a glance and Hunter’s eyes flitted between them. They almost seemed to have an entire conversation through their eyes. 

Fives sighed. “Have him meet me here when he’s ready.”

Hunter nodded once, and he and Crosshair left the tiny apartment.

“So who is she?” Crosshair drawled, slipping a toothpick between his lips.

Hunter glanced at his brother. “How should I know?” he shrugged.

Crosshair shrugged as well as they made their way back to the ship through the streets of Ord Mantell.

–

Fives sat on the sofa, hands twitching nervously. His brother would be there soon. “So much for hiding my identity, huh?” he muttered, huffing out an awkward laugh.

“I should go,” Raze said quickly, her eyes focused on the window. 

Fives’ eyes shot up to her. “What? Why?”

She shifted her weight between her feet. “This is already going to be a lot, you know? I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

He closed the distance between them, taking her hands in his. “Uja, I think he’d want-”

“Stop. After everything you two have gone through without each other, you deserve a moment for yourselves. I don’t think- I’m not ready to-”

A knock at the door startled them both. She pulled her hands from his as he stared at the door. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His brother was on the other side of that door. After all these years, not only was his twin alive, but he was here. He wasn’t the final domino after all. Another knock brought his attention back.

“Uja-” he started, but when he looked back towards her, she was nowhere to be seen. A small breeze flowed through the window. He sighed, walking to the door, trying to shake the nerves off. 

The door slid open and the twins' eyes met. 

“Echo,” Fives breathed. 

Neither knew who moved first, but a few seconds later they wrapped each other in a tight embrace. 

“I thought you were dead,” they both cried at the same time, sending each other into a fit of laughter. 

Echo could feel his eyes stinging with tears. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he sobbed. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

Fives sniffled a little. “I’m here, Eyay’ika.”

Echo pulled away and the pair moved to sit at the small kitchen table. 

Fives stared at his brother in disbelief. “How did- what happened?”

“The Techno Union found me, and brought me back… sort of,” Echo winced. “Tambor was… using my knowledge of the Republic, all the battle plans Rex and I made. He sold the information to the separatists, and kept my body to experiment on.”

“Echo,” Fives whispered. “I’m s-”

“It’s alright,” he said quickly. “Rex figured it out. He convinced Skywalker, and Cody brought the Batch; they found me and got me out of there.”

Fives was quiet for a long moment. “I should’ve been there,” he scowled. 

“You were dead,” Echo argued. 

“But I should’ve-”

Echo stopped him, gripping his wrist. “You couldn’t have known, vod.”

Fives sighed. 

Echo’s eyes narrowed at him. “But what about you? You got shot by Fox right in front of Rex-”

“We’ve all gotten shot,” Fives argued. 

“Fives,” Echo said, his tone filled with an old familiar exasperation Fives hadn’t heard in years. He couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face. 

“We had to fake it,” he said after a moment. “Fox was in on it. I- I wasn’t safe.”

Echo felt a pang in his chest. They were created to be soldiers - to risk their lives in service of the Republic; they’d rarely ever been truly safe. But his brother- his twin- had been alone in this. He listened sorrowfully as Fives recounted the days leading up to his “death”.

“We knew Palpatine would be after me, but when it became clear that Skywalker wasn’t hearing me, we had to end it and find another way.”

“But how did Fox know not to kill you? Why did Rex and Skywalker think you were dead? Couldn’t they tell you weren’t?”

Fives chuckled. “It’s a long story.”

“But-”

“Later.” He placed his hand on Echo’s shoulder. “We’ve got time, brother.”

-

With Hunter and Tech in a deep, hushed conversation, and Wrecker and Omega playing just outside the ship, Crosshair found himself alone. 

That seemed to be a rarity these days. Despite how he was told he often came off, Crosshair hated being alone; it reminded him too much of his training. 

He wandered aimlessly around the ship, avoiding the cockpit, trying to find a place to simply be.

The bunks didn’t feel right; he wasn’t tired. He didn’t have use for the tiny kitchen or the cargo bay. 

Then his eyes fell on that door. The one he was sure hadn’t been opened in months. 

He pressed the button, the doors sliding open effortlessly. Another and the lights came on. 

Everything was mostly how J– she left it. Her bunk was neatly made, her small footlocker tucked underneath. Her datapad sat untouched atop the scratchy GAR issue blanket she always hated. 

He took a deep breath, releasing it in a slow and shaky exhale as he knelt next to the bunk. It still smelled like J– her; the subtle hints of wildflowers drawing stinging tears to his eyes. 

He let them shut, scowling slightly as he kept trying to just breathe, but the mask had started to slip. 

She betrayed him- his family. She repeatedly tried to kill them. How was he still in love with her? How could he know that he would still follow her to the ends of the galaxy? Suddenly, he was standing in front of the cabinet where she kept her personal supplies. His hand hovered over the button to release the latch, his palm sweaty and fingers shaking. Another deep breath and he pressed it. 

It looked like a mess, but he knew better. “It’s organized chaos,” she’d told him. “I know where everything is.”

His eyes landed on a particular container, her handwriting sprawled across the label, first in Qoljaki, then in a messy, nearly unreadable aurebesh. He smiled. He’d been able to pick his name out from his brothers’ even before she’d relabeled the containers. She’d given him such a surprised look when he’d said he figured it out. 

“It’s the longest,” he shrugged, pulling a laugh from her. 

He missed that laugh. She told him once that she hated her laugh. 

“It’s too loud and sharp,” she’d said, resting her back against his legs as he braided her hair. “I sound deranged.”

They’d argued about it for a while, the discussion ending with a few activities that caused her to need her hair rebraided. 

He looked in the cabinet a little more, vaguely recognizing some of the others’ names. But then he saw his own again, scrawled across a folded piece of flimsi, tucked at the back of the cabinet. His heart was pounding in his ears as picked up the note, gingerly unfolding it as though it’d disintegrate in his hands. 

Opening it, he discovered that it was written in Qoljaki. He could only read his own name written at the top and J– her name at the bottom. He fidgeted a little. He wanted- no, he needed to read this letter. What if it explained everything? 

He tried to think through his options. He could give it to Tech to translate. But what if there was something … intimate in the contents? He knew how his twin felt about her. No, he couldn’t risk that. 

Echo? That was a tempting idea, but he had a lot on his plate right now, finding out his twin was actually alive. That, and he wasn’t sure he could handle the sassiness he knew the ARC would give him. 

Hunter couldn’t be an option; he had been the angriest among them after their most recent escape from Kamino. 

Wrecker would probably feel just as lost as he did. 

Crosshair sighed, walking back to her bunk and plopping down onto it, her datapad just next to him. He looked at the object. He knew she’d used it for everything, often citing that if she didn’t write down the little details of things, she’d likely forget them. 

He picked it up, tapping the screen gently. It was dead, of course - it’d been months since it was last charged. He scanned the room, spotting her charging cord at the end of the bed. He plugged it in and waited. It would probably take a while, but maybe it could give him the answers he so desperately needed. He leaned against the wall, letting himself be fully enveloped in his memories and the smell of her perfume. 

“Crosshair?” Omega’s gentle voice called from the doorway. When had she gotten there?

“Yeah, ‘Meg?”

“Are you okay?”

He glanced at her, peeking through one eye. “‘Course I am,” he answered cooly, thankful he’d been able to keep his voice steady despite feeling like he was on the verge of a breakdown. 

“You’re crying,” she pointed out, eyeing him skeptically.

Crosshair lifted a hand to his cheek, honestly surprised to find it damp. 

“What is that?” She asked, pointing to the flimsi letter in his hand as she came to sit next to him.  

“A note from-” he hesitated. “From a friend.”

Omega nodded once, her curious eyes falling away from him. “Is it from Jaine?”

He sighed. She was far too insightful. “Yes.”

“And that’s the reason you’re crying?”

“Part of it,” he hummed. 

“What’s the other part?”

Another deep breath. “I can’t read it.”

Omega looked at him curiously, then down at his hand and he held the note out to her. 

“It looks like a bunch of scribbles,” she noted. 

“It’s a different language,” he explained. “Jaine grew up on a planet called Qoljak, and this is how they wrote.” He pointed to the looping print at the top of the page. “That’s my name, there.”

Omega’s brow furrowed. “Why would she write you a letter you can’t read?”

Crosshair sighed, letting his eyes fall shut. “I don’t know.”

Omega’s hand lifted to her mouth as her brow furrowed. Just like Hunter, he thought. “Maybe Tech can translate it.”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “But it’s a dead language. And she never got the chance to teach it to him.”

“We won’t know until we try.”

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Thanks for reading! - River

Jari'eyc Masterlist DangRaccoon Masterlist Taglist Form Read on AO3

Tags: @lokigirlszendaya @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @ravenclawbitch426 @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @techs-goggles9902

#DangRaccoon #Dang Writing #Bas'chak Oyubaat #Jari'eyc #Raze #Original Character #oc #oc tbb #oc the bad batch #hunter tbb #tech tbb #wrecker tbb #crosshair tbb #echo tbb #omega tbb #fives tcw #the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #clone x OC #Ne'er Queue well

[danceswithsporks]

Oooh I’m happy to see another talented writer doing the prompt list trend! #2 with Hunter and F!reader? I’ve always wanted to see more angsty sex with clones.

Ahhhh!!! This was so intense to write! I hope you enjoy it and so sorry for the tears in advance!!

Hunter x Fem!reader

“Just wanna fuck away the pain”

The battle had been an absolute bloodbath. So many lost brothers scattered the battlefield and the planet. The bad batch had been scattered to the four winds, each leading their own platoon in a massive counterattack against a Separatist stronghold. The batch would be the distractions on the outside as the Jedis infiltrated the base. It was supposed to be easy enough.

Until it wasn’t. They had known you were all coming. Somehow they’d been tipped off and they were ready. The moment the Jedi had disappeared into the base, the droids attacked. Thousands had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Attacking with everything they had. From B1 battle droids to full-on tanks. Your platoon against the droids had seemed like nothing. A drop in a massive bucket of droids. Fifty men plus you and Hunter against maker knew how many droids. After the first hundred, you’d all lost count.

It had been a hard-fought battle that had gone on for hours and while victory had been achieved, it had come at a cost. Your platoon had walked away with a stomach-churning 45 deaths. Some had been killed instantly while others had died in yours and Hunter's arms. At that moment you wondered if he was glad for the darkness of his armor making the blood staining it unable to be seen. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could still see the way it all affected him. How his body hung in defeat as he lowered each clone to the ground before placing their hands on their chests. The way the pain in his voice was clear as he slowly spoke into his comm.

“Forty-five confirmed fatalities.”

Your heart sank as you listened to the pain and sadness in his voice. The others rang in their numbers and realization dawned on you that your platoon had lost far more than the others. It seemed that you two had taken the brunt of the battle.

“It’s gonna take us some time to finish things up here.” Anakins voice rang over the comm. “Head back to the Resolute and we’ll meet you there.”

“Understood.” Came as a whisper from you as you walked over and placed a hand on Hunter's shoulder. No words passed between the two of you as you made the long walk back to your shuttle. The sound of your feet trudging through the thick brush of land seemed to be the only sound between all of you.

It wasn’t until you were safe and sound on the Resolute an hour later that you finally spoke. Now alone in the privacy of the Marauder, you finally found your words. “Hunter?” His back was facing you as he stared at the door to the fresher. A grunt was his only response to you.

It had been his highest casualty count ever. Never had he lost so many. Had failed to protect so many. Yes, they were soldiers, but they had also been his vod. This was why he didn’t work with regs, this was why he didn’t like being part of the larger whole. Too many variables and too many lives on the line. Too many lives in his hands and this was the result. He wanted to vomit, to scream and throw things and punch something and…

And…

And…

Your hand snaked into his and he found himself inhaling slowly. Never had he been more thankful for you to be by his side. You moved around him carefully and he froze as your hand raised to his helmet. He didn’t want you to see him this way, almost a shell of the man he usually was. The sound of the latches of his helmet unlocking echoed through his ears as you carefully pulled the piece of armor off.

“Oh, Hunter.” You sighed softly as you ran your thumb across his cheek and wiped away the tears that were there. The wait of being the leader was a heavy one. The weight of being a leader who’d lost so many at once was heavier. “Let me help you.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand.

When had he started to cry? The worry in your eyes was clear to him. Hunter opened his mouth to say something to you but found himself unable to speak. So instead he gave you a small grunt as your hand wrapped around his wrist and began to undo his gauntlets and gloves. Every single movement you made was slow and meticulous. Your fingers found the clasp for the gauntlets and easily clicked them open. Slowly, almost painfully slow, you pulled them and his gloves off and let them fall to the floor with a soft thud. A shutter left his body as you carefully ran your finger across one of his palms, your bottom lip quivering between your teeth. The care and delicate movements you showed him made his heart flutter.

You watched as he suddenly pulled his hand away from you and moved it up to your cheek where he cupped it gently. His nose ran across the tip of yours as he closed the gap between your faces and his lips hovered over yours. You wanted to kiss him so badly, to share in the pain and anguish you both felt. But at this moment was it right to desire such a thing? When your partner, your Hunter, was clearly in so much pain.

It was like he could read your mind. The distance between your lips was closed with a soft kiss. His rough lips danced across yours in one of the softest and sweetest kisses he’d ever given you. Like he was almost afraid to hurt you. Reaching your hand up, you wrapped it around the one against your cheek and squeezed it tightly as if to let him know that he wouldn’t hurt you. Only then did he deepen the kiss. Gone was the gentleness of a man struggling to keep himself centered and not lose control. In his place now stood a man desperate to find a release and you’d be there to give it to him however he needed.

His hand moved from your cheek and gripped your waist tightly as he moved you toward the back of the ship. Your fingers moved desperately over his chest plate as you looked for the latches to unclasp the piece of armor. With a successful click, the plastoid fell to the metal floor with another loud thunk. He grunted against your mouth as he finally found a wall to press you against. Heat began to pool in your stomach as he slid his leg between yours, his lips never leaving yours. His roughness was so intoxicating that it left your head spinning. As badly as you wanted him right now, he needed you even more. “Hunter, my knight. Please. Tell me what you need.” Your hand rested against his sweat and blood-stained chest as you spoke quietly to him. Those golden eyes you adored more than the sun itself looked into yours as he let out a dark but shuddering breath.

“I.. I can’t. It’s not fair to you.” He couldn’t look at you right now, not when the almost animalistic side of him was begging for him to take you. To make the pain go away, however, he could.

“I want to help you, my love.” Your nose rubbed against his as you tried to get him to look at you. “Whatever you need from me, it’s yours. Take what you need.”

“I need you. I just need to fuck you. To feel you around me. I…I just need to fuck away the pain.” A small gasp left your lips as he spoke. “I know I wouldn’t be gentle. This wouldn’t be something sensual and beautiful like we usually do. You don’t deserve the kind of fucking I’d be giving you.” No. You deserved sweet and beautiful sex where he worshiped your body like the goddess you were to him. Instead, he’d rutt into you like an angry beast, the world be no gentleness, only anger.

That pool inside you only seemed to grow at his words. Lowering your head, you found the crook of his neck and placed gentle kisses against his sweaty skin. The taste of salt danced across your tongue as you did so. “Then I’ll tell you to stop if it becomes too much. But I want to help you, Hunter. So please…” You pulled your lips back and looked up at him with darkening eyes. “Use me as your toy. Fill me with the relief you need and we’ll talk later.” Your lips found his once more and you pressed multiple soft sweet kisses against his lips. “Fuck away all your pain inside of me and let me replace it with my love.”

How he’d ever repay you for something like this, he’d never be able to figure out. That was something he was sure of. His cock strained against his codpiece as he asked you once more if you were sure. When you nodded to him, lips swollen from the rough kisses you’d been giving him. The thread holding him back snapped and the angry beast inside of him was released.

Hunter reached up and gripped the front of your medics uniform and with swift movement the material was torn to shred and thrown to the ground. He’d replace it later for you. For now, he just needed your scent in his nose and on his body. He needed to replace the stench of blood and tears and battle that hung around him in a dark thick cloud of molasses.

“Leave your blacks on.” You whispered through racing breaths. He eyed you carefully as you reached forward and unlatched your black lace bra from the front. His leg that was situated between yours raised and grinded needly against your core causing you to whine. “I want to replace the battle on them with the smell of us. Please.”

Stars, how he adored how you always had his heightened senses on your mind, even when he didn’t. “Yes.” Was growled darkly from him as he moved your hips back and forth against his armored thigh. “Want your scent to be all I smell forever.” He’d have you cumming on all of his armor and blacks just to have your scent with him. You moaned and whined under his hands and the sound scent waves of electricity to his hard cock. More, he needed more of you. Hunter moved his hand to his side and quickly pulled out his knife. “Hold very still.” Came as a demand from him.

Your wide eyes watched as he brought the knife to your hip and sliced the side of your panties clean off. Only the feather-light touch of the tip grazed your skin and you let out a small shiver. In one fluid movement, the knife was returned to its sheath and thrown across the room. You tried to make a mental note of where it landed but your thoughts were pulled back to the sound of fabric ripping as the rest of your panties were torn from your body and thrown to the floor. “F-fuck.” The feeling of his armor against your dripping heat was even more amazing now.

He’d replace those as well. For now, he just needed more of you. He let you slide your juices against his thigh gauntlets for a moment before he lifted you up while falling to his knees. Both your legs were placed over his shoulders as he quickly buried his face into your drilling heat. Between the wall helping to hold you up and his strength, you weighed nothing to him. His tongue eagerly lapped at your cunt as he drank from you like a man dying. He didn’t care that you’d been on the battlefield for the last few hours sweating. To him, the smell of sweat and you was more than amazing.

His course stubble rubbed against your thighs in an exhilarating feeling that filled you with pain and pleasure. You moaned and cried out his name as he ate you aggressively. Your hands finding his wonderful locs of hair and gripping it tightly. He hissed against your pull before his licks grew rougher. “H-hunter! Gah! Please! Fuck!” It felt so fucking good. One of your hands released his hair and shot to your needy clit. If you could just rub yourself the right way, you’d be coming in moments. His hand grabbed yours and pulled it away as you felt his tongue leave your now-drenched cunt.

“That’s mine. You can only touch it when I tell you to. Got it?” His eyes watched as yours widened with surprise and lust. When you nodded slowly, he smirked before biting the inside of your thigh. “Good girl.” Your moan of pleasure at his bite egged him on. “Go ahead and play with your pearl. Cum on my face like the good little whore you are.”

This side of Hunter was dizzying. But before you could even let him know how much it turned you on that he spoke to you like this, he was back between your legs and lapping you up like an animal. Your hand returned to your clit and you quickly began to work circles against it. So close, so unbelievably close to coming on him. Your legs squeezed around his head as you neared your release. A growl rippled from him and into your core as his finger slipped in and quickly you were shaking around him, his name leaving your lips in the most sinful of cries.

Your release hit his tongue and his nose in a wave of ecstasy. His name on your lips as he pressed his face even deeper into you to savor and grab every last drop he could pull from you. The hand in his hard loosened as you rode out your high. Pulling away, he watched as your chest raised and lowered rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. His hand tightened around your thighs and rubbed them roughly as he waited for your breathing to mellow out.

It took a moment for your breathing to begin to return to normal. Your head taking even longer to come down from the dizzying feeling of your orgasm. But Hunter didn’t wait. He lowered you back to the ground and used the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face before pointing to the pile of your clothing on the ground.

“On your knees. I need to feel that pretty mouth around my cock.”

Another demand that made your already weak legs turn to jelly. “Yes, sir.” Left you in a breathy sigh as you lowered to your knees and placed your hands on his thighs. You made quick work of his codpiece and within seconds the piece of armor was being tossed to the side. Beneath the piece of armor was the most delicious of sights for you. His thick long cock was already peeking out of the top of his pants. Eager to be free and inside of you. His fingers slid into your hair and with a rough pull, your face was rubbing against the front of his pants and his length. He was so aggressive right now and a part of you loved it.

Hunter groaned out a “fuck” as your lips lapped at the tip of his weeping member while your hands pulled it free. That wouldn’t be enough, he knew this wouldn’t be enough for him. No, he wanted, needed, that soaked honey pot between your legs. This was to just lube him up even more before he broke you. Taking him was already a process for you and usually, you two would spend a lot of time getting ready for him. But you didn’t have that luxury today. “That’s right my little whore. Take my cock in your mouth.” He watched as your lips wrapped around him and slowly began to work down his shaft. Your hand at the base squeezed him gently and he bucked into your throat. “Fuck you look so pretty like that.”

Tears pulled at the corners of your eyes as he fucked your throat mercilessly. Your hands gripped tightly against the plastoid of his armor and just as you felt you couldn’t take anymore. He pulled away from you. A few coughs left you as you finally breathed normally.

He felt bad for making you gag and cough from how hard he’d fucked your throat. But the wildness inside him, that anger, made the care he felt take a backseat. He lowered you carefully to the ground and easily bent you in half. “Be a good girl and take this dick.”

You felt the tip of his cock rub against your aching core. “Please. Hunter. Need you.” You needed him to fill you. To fuck you raw and make you scream. You needed to hear him scream as he came in you. Your pleas didn’t go unanswered and in one swift movement, he was burying himself into you. A moan and scream left you at the same time as he pushed and pushed until his balls hit your ass.

You felt fucking mind-blowing. This was deeper than he’d ever been in you. He waited only a moment for you to adjust before he was thrusting and ramming you quickly. Your moans and cries of pleasure filled his ears as he chased his relief inside of you. He’d fill you with all of him, all he could give you. His pain, his suffering, his anger, and sadness. He’d fuck it all into you. “That’s right. Take this dick.” Hunter groaned as he felt your pussy tighten around him with each of his thrusts. “Take it. Take it all.”

“Yes, Hunter! Fuck! Please fill me!” A strangled cry left you as his thumb rubbed your clit in rough tight circles. The sound of your bodies slapping echoed around the ship as he screwed you into the metal floor. A tightness began to form in your stomach as he adjusted slightly and suddenly hit that spot inside you that made your world spin.

You screamed his name as you came undone around him. The tightness of your pussy pulled him to his own release and after just a few more rough thrusts he was emptying all of himself into you. Every drop of pain, sadness and anger flowed from him and into you, and with a strangled sob, he collapsed into you.

You held Hunter tight against your chest as you both settled into the cool floor. You’d get up in a bit. For now, you simply needed to hold the man you loved so dearly. Gentle hands rubbed his back as he hurried his face into your neck and cried softly. “I’m here.”

He knew he’d been so horribly rough and aggressive with you. That you’d put up with it for his sake. He adored you with every fiber of his being and hoped he didn’t hurt you too much. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok. I’m ok.” Came as a whisper as you listened to him apologize again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Please forgive me.”

“I’m sorry.”

You knew that those last ones weren’t for you. That they were for those he’d lost that day. Those that he couldn't protect and keep alive. With a slow breath. You kissed the top of his head and whispered.

“We forgive you.”

#clone wars fic #the bad batch fic #hunter bad batch #hunter x you #hunter x reader #pain #angst with forgiveness #poor hunter #hunter tbb #tbb hunter

[error6gendernotfound]

Nu Kyr'adyc

TW: Tech angst, spoilers for tbb s2 finale

Summary: Omega finds herself in a cell with Crosshair after being kidnapped by Hemlock

AN: This lil baby fic is written for @cross-my-heartt's art post, which you can find here. Thanks for reading!

He awoke with a small groan, the stiff cot not doing his back any favors.

“Crosshair?” a small voice asks, “Are you awake?”

His head whips around to look at the figure crouched in the corner of the small room. It had been a long time, but he recognizes the blonde halo and heavy accent. He quickly sits up, ice-hot panic running through his veins.

“Omega? Why are you here? I distinctly remember telling you guys to hide. For your sake.”

“I know.” she says. She looks down, trying to hide the emotions still shaking her every breath. “We were just trying to help you. I just wanted to help you.” Her voice gets smaller with every word, and he sees a small tear fall. He sighs inwardly.

“Where are the others?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wails. “Before they stunned me, Echo helped Hunter and Wrecker get away. I just know they’re not here.” He can’t help but notice the absent name, but he doesn’t push right now. He sighs.

“Come here.” he swings his legs off the cot and pats the space beside him. She scrambles over to him, taking her previous position with her arms wrapped around her knees. “Tell me what happened.”

“Well, after we got your message, we had to figure out where you were, so we planned to place a tracker on Doctor Hemlock’s ship while he was busy in a meeting with other imperial officers. Turns out there was another group of ‘rebels’ in the base, except they were trying to blow it up. Wreck and I did our part, and got the tracker on the ship, but we had to leave quickly because of the bombs. The,” She clears her throat, “the base was only accessible with this hanging monorail thing. We got about halfway from the base when the explosion cut the power to it. Echo couldn’t fix it from the train so Te-Tec-,” she stutters, voice cracking, “He had to get out and go fix it.”

The tears stream harder down Omega’s face. Cross scoots closer to her on the cot, not quite touching hips, but trying his best to comfort her. To let her know that it’s okay, even though it’s not. She looks up at him suddenly. The movement drags his eyes down to hers. “In your message, you mentioned plan eighty-eight.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “I did.”

“Do you remember all the plans?” she asks quietly. He doesn't know where this is going, but he doesn't like it, pushing himself up to stand.

“Mhm.” he grumbles, beginning to pace the short distance from one side of the room to the other, head down.

“Do you,” Omega hesitates, and picks at her cuticles, “remember ninety-nine?” The flow of his pacing abruptly stops, and his eyes snap back to her.

“Omega…” he warns lowly.

“They never told me about that one. I thought there were only ninety-eight plans, but that's what… that’s what Tech said before he fell. ‘Plan Ninety-nine.’” After her final word, it’s like she forgets how breathing works. Her breathing hitches and her throat burns with tears. She sobs. That wheezing type of sob where it feels like Atlas has put his punishment on your chest. She breathes quickly, but no air fills her lungs. Have they pulled all the oxygen out of the room? Why can’t she breathe? What is happening to her? This can’t be real. This is a nightmare.

She feels arms pull her from the cot and into the air. Against someone’s chest. “T-ech?” Her legs wrap around them automatically. The hands stroke her back soothingly, while she buries her face into their chest. They rock back and forth, and he nuzzles the top of her head with his nose, inhaling deeply. She feels her hair start to wetten, but she doesn't care.

“I’m so sorry cyar’ika.” He whispers, and raises his face to the ceiling. “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaalj’la. Ni ceta, vod."

#star wars the bad batch #star wars tbb #star wars #bad batch omega #clone trooper crosshair #bad batch crosshair #crosshair and omega #crosshair is actually a softie #gardenwrites

[zylian]

Mapicc is such a bloodhound, he is such a hunter, it’s sickening

After watching both vods, this guy reads situations and clocks exactly what he needs to do and whoever he’s with

He knows his enemies so well too, recognizing Subz’s tunnelling style and not being blindly confident

He just goes into hunt mode and it’s crazy to me

Man is calm & collected when he hunts/fights and just focusing on him makes me remember why he’s scary especially in s4

There’s Vitalasy saying Zams better than Mapicc while Subz said Mapiccs better at sustaining himself so no

I remember early s4 Mapicc & Spoke ran carts while Zam & Ro ran poison

Plus the way he treats whoever’s on his side, being able to bluff how much he has, prioritizing himself to make sure he can do well and knowing when it’s over

Bloodhound Mapicc is so real

#zy live thoughts #zy rambles #lssmp rants from watching twitch

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

The Gym Membership - Part 18 (Crosshair)

Summary: Crosshair reacts to Tech's statement

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

I hope everyone is doing well. I know things are getting rough for all of us, but just keep in mind that we all love you. Just keep swimming. Keep moving, keep pushing, even if it's a millimetre, just keep trying.

Love oo

Warning: Grief, emotional hiding, anger, annoyance, flower buying, mentions of hospital, and cardiac monitor. I think that's all of it, if I miss anything please let me know.

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“What could you possibly know about grieving? You’re not Hunter, you’ve never lost a wife or a fiancee! You’ve never loved anyone!” Tech’s voice echoed over and over in Crosshair’s head, he rubbed his hands on his pant leg, doing his best to control the anger brewing within him. He stood from his seat, his fists clenched by his side.

“You have no idea what I’ve lost” Cross’ voice was cold and menacing as his jaw clenched. “Just cause you’re my vod doesn’t mean you know my life!” 

He moved away from Tech, grabbing his keys, he didn’t exactly know where he was heading at that moment, what he did know was he needed to move away from Tech before he hit him.

He took a deep breath and turned to look at Tech one last time, “I may not know what you are feeling Tech, but if you don’t learn how to deal with Kamarie’s loss, it’ll eat away at you more than you can imagine.” It was all Cross wanted to add before he headed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Time passed as Crosshair drove his car in a daze, before he even realized it, his car was headed towards the Veteran’s Army Hospital. He sat in his car staring at the hospital for a good fifteen minutes as he contemplated whether or not he should get out of the car. 

He hadn’t been there in a week, his schedule got thrown off the whole thing with Tech stressed him out if he was being honest. As he sat there, he realized he hadn’t even brought any flowers with him. It was too late now to go and get some from his usual florist, he let out a frustrated sigh as he got out of his car and headed in.  He would need to make a stop at the gift shop, he hated getting gift shop flowers, they were always leftovers and scraggly bits. His jaw clenched as he looked at the stems that were being offered, they were pathetic and not good enough.

“Can’t find what you’re looking for?” The shopkeeper asked as she stood beside him, a smile on her face.

“Do you have … I don’t know, any fresh flowers?” He turned to the elderly lady who had been there taking care of the shop for the past twenty-five years. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while, kid” she mumbled as she walked to the door behind the register.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to get my flowers at the shop you recommended.” He answered absent-mindedly, “Plus there was a death in my family … so my schedule’s been a little hectic”

“Sorry to hear that, kid.” She gave him a sympathetic nod, before she disappeared into the room she opened, she walked out with a rather large bouquet, “Here you go, lanky.” She placed the bouquet on the counter as she patted his hand, “Just remember, I always keep a fresh batch just in case.” Crosshair looked at the bouquet of roses and tulips that oddly went together, “Was it someone you were close to?” Cross quirked his eyebrow, as he tried to understand her question, “The family member that you lost.”

“Somewhat, she was my brother’s fiancé.”

“That poor man, are you being supportive?” She always treated him like he was her son, he wasn’t sure why, or what she was hoping to get out of being so kind to him.

“As much as I can be, but he’s hiding himself” his voice still had a hint of anger and annoyance as he thought back to Tech.

“Much like you are?”

“I’m not hiding”

“Oh no? Tell me, since the last time we talked, have you told your family why you come to the hospital every week?” Cross didn’t answer her, “Well… have you?”

He let out a sigh, “They don’t know anything”

She lifted her eyebrow in derision, “Isn’t that a form of hiding? You can’t be angry and annoyed with him for hiding when you are doing the same thing, and a lot longer than he has.”

“I’m not angry … or annoyed.”

“Yeah, and I’m not a 65 year gift shop cashier.” She held up her hands in surrender when he narrowed his eyes at her, “Alright, so you’re not annoyed or angry…” she rolled her eyes, “then how do you feel with the way he’s acting?”

“Aggravated” he smirked as he looked at her, “See not annoyed or angry”

She silently laughed as she shook her head, “Kid, pretty sure, aggravation is a mixture of both.” He just shrugged, as he listened to her explanation, “Anyway, young man, try not to be too hard on him. Just remember how you felt and how much pain you went through when you first started coming here.”

“Thanks Bethany. I’ll see you around.” 

He took the bouquet and nodded his thanks as he headed towards the seventh floor. His feet followed the familiar path he’d taken over the past several years, he headed to the room he had gotten to know like the back of his hand. 

His feet froze as his eyes focused on the woman’s back sitting in the chair by the bed, his hand gripped the bouquet a little tighter, as he walked in, placing the bouquet in the vase beside the bed getting rid of the old flowers that were there, “Why are you here?” He mumbled without looking at her.

I glanced up to look at the man who vexed me to no end, I didn’t even bother responding to him as I focused my attention back on my book, glancing at my sister’s bedside cardiac monitor. I don’t know what was more vexing his voice, the fact he always showed up and usually brought her favourite flowers, or that he didn’t say much and still managed to get under my skin. My eyes glanced over as I watched him grab one of the chairs in the room and slid it beside mine. 

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@justanothersadperson93​ @liadamerondjarin​ @badbatch-simp24​ @spicymcnuggies​ @lady-ren​ @firstofficerwiggles​ @darkangel4121​ @discofern​ @kavecika​ @monako-jinn-stories​ @ladykatakuri​ @avathebestx​ @theroguesully​ @furyhellfire66​ @carodealmeida​ @ciramaris​ @sprout-fics​ @twinkofthedink​ @dindjarin-mandalorian​ 

#the gym membership #gym membership #Gym Au #the bad batch hunter #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch echo #the bad batch #the bad batch crosshair #bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair #tbb crosshair #star wars echo #clone trooper echo #echo #bad batch tech #arc trooper echo #tbb echo #tech the bad batch #the bad batch tech #tech #the bad batch wrecker #bad batch wrecker #clone trooper wrecker #wrecker #tbb wrecker #bounty hunter #tbb hunter #hunter

[starwarstbbfan]

I drew this a couple weeks after this episode aired and forgot to post it on here🫠 The quote is from the episode after but I thought it fit in nicely with the drawing.

Honestly I’m glad Echo left to join Rex. The mercenary/scavenger/treasure hunter life wasn’t for him. He wants to help his vod and I know there’s a bigger purpose for him. Why else would Dave Filoni bring him back? This scene still tugged at my heartstrings tho…

#star wars #star wars bad batch #star wars tbb #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #sw tbb #the bad batch fanart #clone force 99 #tbb season 2 #echo tbb #omega tbb #echo and omega #the bad batch season 2 #mom echo #arc trooper echo #clone trooper echo #omega needs a hug