Right Hands Of The Republic

Right Hands of the Republic

Summary: Sabé and Rex have the worst jobs in the world.

Pairing: Background Anidala

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: None

Authors Note: It’s finally done! After months of inactivity! Big thanks to @transfetts for helping me edit this one! And a special shout out to @royalhandmaidens for helping me run with this idea, and being an incredible person to bounce off of ❤️

In all honesty, Sabé wasn’t sure if her day could get any worse.

Her life had been threatened before. That was easy to deal with. She had played the seven-string hallikset in front of millions of people. That was also easy, although in a different way. Sabé had fought the Battle for Naboo in the most uncomfortable outfit she’d ever worn, with a headpiece that weighed down her neck and made her look like a child wearing an oversized bonnet.

But standing here. Looking like an idiot next to the stiffest Trooper she had ever met? Today definitely took the cake as the worst day of Sabé’s life.

Sabé had never actually met a Clone Trooper before. Sure they were everywhere on Coruscant, they were practically everywhere in the universe, but Sabé had never actually met one before. The Coruscant guard didn’t really talk much, and she had only ever interacted with them as Padmé, not as Sabé.

But as soon as she saw Anakin and his trooper outside Padmé’s senate chamber, Sabé knew she would be spending some quality time with a Clone.

“General Skywalker,” Padmé started, and even with her hood covering her eyes, Sabé could practically see that dreamy look in Padmé’s gaze. Ugh. “How unexpected.”

Anakin wasn’t supposed to be back for weeks. He had returned from Umbara after a misunderstanding on the battlefield. Rumor had it that the GAR had suffered immense casualties and every available Jedi had been needed to finish the assault. Sabé wasn’t sure what was propaganda and what was the truth yet, but it seemed messy regardless.

And yet here Anakin was anyway. Sauntering through the senate halls as if nothing had happened and he wasn’t keeping the galaxy's biggest secret.

“Well you know how it is,” He says with a smirk, “I bring word from the Frontlines. I was hoping I could give you an update on our progress.”

What he really meant was, “We should both neglect our responsibilities and make out in your office and make Sabé super uncomfortable.” Or at least, that’s how Sabé heard it.

Playing third wheel was bad enough, but playing third wheel to a secret marriage between the dumbest Jedi and her best friend was possibly the worst way to spend an afternoon.

“Ani, you know I-“ Padmé starts, but he interrupts.

“Just a moment of your time senator,” He grabs at her hands gently, holding them near his chest. “Please?”

And Sabé knows then that Padmé is sold.

“Alright,” Padmé sighs, but she’s smiling. A lovesick type of grin that spreads warmly across her face. “Sabé, would you mind waiting here for a moment?”

“As you wish M’lady.” Sabé says. She actually did mind. A lot. But doing things she didn’t want to do was part of the job.

My hands are yours.

“Rex, why don’t you keep Sabé company for a bit? I’ll be right back.” Anakin winked as if to say “I won’t be right back”.

It took all of her Amidala training to hold back the eye roll.

And thus they stood.

And stood.

Being a handmaiden meant a lot of standing around and waiting quietly. Standing behind Padmé as she addressed the Senate. Standing behind Queen Amidala as she addressed the senate.

It was a lot of senate and a lot of standing still. Sabé didn’t mind that. She liked listening and observing. What Sabé didn’t like was listening to her best friend fawn over a Jedi while she waited outside with a stranger.

Although the stranger probably didn’t like hanging around with her either.

Captain Rex hadn’t moved once. Hadn’t even addressed her. He stood at attention, armor faded and dented as he gazed silently ahead. He looked like he had seen better days. The paint was chipping off his arm brace and there was ash on his chest plate.

They must have gone straight for the senate building as soon as they had returned.

He was probably just as exhausted as her. And frustrated. Sabé let out a silent sigh. She was being unfair again. Not liking Anakin shouldn’t mean not liking his trooper.

So, Sabé takes a deep breath, without even moving, and tries to apply that “warmth” Yané always tried to teach her.

“So, see any good holovids latey?” Is the only thing she can think to say. Padme was a master at conversation, and although she had spent almost eight years imitating her, that was the one trait Sabé could not crack.

“I don’t have time off to watch Holovids.” His voice is mechanical under his mask, crisp and echoing.

It wasn’t like they were trying to be subtle or anything.

“Oh.” Is all Sabé says before they fall back into an uncomfortable silence. He seems to pity her though, for Captain Rex tries to start up conversation again after a few moments.

“Do you think we’ll be able to leave soon?”

As if it is the will of the Force, suddenly there's laughter coming from Padmé’s chambers.

“No.” Sabé responds.

And suddenly there’s a crash, like a window shattering.

Forgetting her formalities, or her own embarrassment, Sabé instantly turns and slams into the door, forcing it open. The Captain is right behind her, blaster drawn. He almost runs right into her.

Padmé and Anakin are staring out a window. Anakin is leaning out, as if trying to see something. Padmé turns.

“Sabé. It was a reporter. I left my window open.”

Her heart drops.

Reporter. Open window. Secret affair.

Ruin.

Anakin seems much less panicked than Padmé, straightening himself and shutting the blinds. He looks… relieved? But Sabé has no time to untangle the map of his soul right now.

“What did he look like?” She asks firmly. There was little time for her to act, and she couldn’t waste a second.

“Dark hair, silver speeder bike. He was wearing a blue media jacket. Heading down to the lower levels.”

“Understood.” Sabé turns instantly, already planning the best route in her head. He would have had to take-

“Now wait just a minute.” Anakin. A minute is not something we have, Sabé wants to yell, but she keeps silent. “I’m not going to let Sabé go alone. She’ll never be able to catch that guy by herself.”

Yes I could. Sabé thinks. But still she keeps silent.

“Rex. Accompany Sabé. I want both of you back before we ship out.”

“Understood Sir.” The Captain stands at attention before quickly turning to Sabé.

Great. The one thing worse than being slowed down by Anakin, was being slowed down by his right hand. He had no idea how she operated. And he stuck out like-

Well he stuck out just as bad as a velvet robbed handmaiden.

“Whatever you wish, m'lady.” Sabé says, secretly hoping Padmé will side with her and deny Rex. But of course, she doesn’t.

“It would be helpful to have another person come along.” Padmé says instead, “Just hurry.”

Sabé gives a soft bow before turning on her heel and racing out of the room, the sound of clanking armor following her the whole way.

The Naboo garage was filled with glimmering starships and speeders. Sabé’s personal speeder was not counted among them.

“I’m driving,” Sabé says as she turns on the machine. “You can sit behind me.”

“Right.” He clearly didn’t like handing off leadership, but it seemed he was wise enough to take the metaphorical and literal backseat when he had to. The engine of her speeder roars to life as Sabé settles in the front with Rex quickly following suit.

“You’ll be able to see better than me if you use your scanner to try and spot him,” Sabé yells over the engine.

Her hair was wiping wildly now, flying loose from her hood and into her eyeline. What she would give for a hairpin.

“He’s probably klicks away by now.” Rex says, and Sabé hears the mechanical clinking of his rangefinder shifting into place as he scans the city.

“That’s why I asked you to use your bucket, genius.” Sabé says before pulling into the busy skylanes.

Sabé didn’t like Coruscant. It was too busy, with too many people and too much pollution. And the Underworld was the worst part. Between the smell of burning fuel, the rattling metal and the horrid smell of endless garbage disposals, everything about it made her skin crawl.

But whatever Padmé asked, Sabé would follow through.

“You seem to know your way around.” Rex says.

“I make it my business to know.” She replies. Just because Padmé wanted Anakin’s clone to tag around did not mean Sabé had to like it.

“Right.”

They fall into the motion of the city. With the wind tugging her hair loose and ringing in her ears, Sabé almost misses Rex’s shout.

“I found him! There!” He points over to her left. The reporter in question is six lanes over, blue jacket whipping wildly in the wind. Camera strap around his neck.

“Hang on!” She yells, before pulling a completely illegal six lane change.

Pulling up as close as she can, Sabé tries to settle herself even with the reporter, bikes side by side.

“Pull over and give me that camera!” Sabé yells, and the reporter turns to her with a wild look.

“On whose authority?” The reporter yells back.

“The Grand Army of the Republic.” Rex doesn’t yell, but the speakers in his helmet amplify his voice enough to be heard over. Sabé wasn’t exactly sure they were officially acting on behalf of the GAR, but it seemed to scare the reporter enough to give him pause.

“You’re in possession of private property!”

“I’m in possession of the story of the century!”

“Like hell you are!” Sabé screams.

He was drifting dangerously close now, his bike almost brushing hers. Normally, the auto navigation system would prevent them from getting this close to another vehicle, but Sabé had rewired it months ago in favor of more subtle routes.

He’s still yelling at her about “stories of the age” and “secret affairs” as she reaches out with her right hand and tries to grab his camera. He pulls back, but he could only move so much with both hands on the handle.

Almost-

And suddenly Sabé’s right hand slips off the steering.

And everything moves in slow motion.

Sabé’s bike tilts left, falling straight into the reporter’s. There’s a crunch from her bike, and the engine spits fire and sparks. The speeders are locked together now, her pedals caught in his.

The reporter has this terrified look on his face, and Sabé seizes that split second and rips the camera off the chain around his neck.

And then her bike falls.

And she falls.

And Rex falls right after her.

In the back of her mind, Sabé vaguely hears Rex yelling something along the lines of, “not again” but all she was really processing, was that she was falling to her death.

But instead of dying, Sabé finds her fall cut short as she crashes into a large speeder hood.

The group inside gasps in horror, and reaching as fast as she can, Sabé tries to grasp at the driver's hand, or the windshield or anything, but within an instant, she slips right off. Her sleeve catches on the side of the vehicle and tears in half as she falls again.

And lands directly onto another speeder.

This one is smaller, and buckles under her weight. Dripping off the skylane. The driver lets out a scream, and shakes her bike.

“I won’t be robbed by some crazy lunatic!” She cries.

“I’m not trying to rob you!” Sabé yells over the commotion.

“Liar!” The driver screams, and keeps shaking her bike. Sabé’s grip slips, and she can feel herself falling.

“Stop, stop! I just want to get down!” She manages. But the driver won’t hear it, and gives the bike one hard shake.

And Sabé is falling again, but the fall is quick, as she lands straight into a dumpster.

Despite the gross cushioning, Sabé hits the bottom of the bin with a sick crack, and instantly knows she won’t be sleeping on her left side for a while.

Ow.

Against the will of her body, Sabé pushes herself up and stands. She had to find that reporter, and she had to get out of that terrible, terrible smell.

Climbing over the edge of the bin shouldn’t have been hard, normally Sabé could have scaled a wall in seconds. But her vision was slightly blurred, and not being able to use her left shoulder was a hindrance. Standing on trash bags, Sabé boosts herself over the edge and stumbles out and onto the alley floor.

Her dress is in shambles. The left sleeve had ripped clean off, as had her hood. The once perfect ombré is now stained with mysterious green and brown liquid from the dumpster. Not to mention the pieces of trash that got stuck to the velvet.

Sabé knows her hair is flying free now and dreads the thought of her reflection. If her grease stained and scratched hands are any indication, she isn’t pretty.

Rex is laying on the ground a few feet away, trying to push himself off his stomach. His pauldron has a crack down the middle and several small pieces of his armor are missing. And so is his helmet.

Rex has a thin cut across his face, spanning from his left eyebrow to his chin.

He looks.

Really young.

Younger than she had expected.

It was probably foolish of her to assume he was older than her, Sabé knew most clones were only around ten, with accelerated growth. But she had always assumed he would look like her father or something. All grey and set lines. But Rex appeared no older than Sabé herself. Sure he had a giant cut across his face right now, but she could see past that.

He looks like a kid. Well, teenager. Well. He looked her age. But still. Young.

Too young.

Sabé supposes to most people he would seem handsome. Maybe in a boyish way, that would make the school girls on Naboo giggle, but to Sabé he just looks like-

Like a boy, covered in dirt, who really didn’t want to be here.

“Did you see where the reporter fell?” Sabé asks. Her voice cracks as she speaks, and she can feel an invisible weight sitting on her lungs. Her left rib is definitely cracked.

“No.” He groans. Without his helmet, Rex’s voice was drastically different. “But he can’t have gotten far.”

Sabé studies around them, Rex was right, the reporter couldn’t have fallen that much farther than they had, their bikes were practically locked together-

There.

Crawling off a trash heap, the reporter looks just as stunned as Sabé feels. Although she hoped she was holding it together better.

“Stop!” She shouts.

Sabé groans, and despite her aching limbs, she runs after him. He’s not fast, but in her current condition, neither is she.

Stumbling loosely, Sabé runs until they’re side by side. She doesn’t have enough energy to even yell at this point, so instead she reaches out for the camera and almost-

Suddenly Sabé feels a sharp tug on her hem, and she’s janked backwards, stumbling into Rex. He yelps, and they both tumble onto the pavement.

“I had him!” Sabé says sharply, pushing Rex aside. Red flames tug at her vision.

She just wants to go home. This was stupid, and she had better things to do. And why would Padmé make her run around with some knockoff Anakin-

“I’m sorry.” Rex says. “I guess I’m not quite used to your fighting techniques. I should have been paying closer attention.”

“Oh.”

Maker, she was an idiot.

Rex isn’t Anakin, and this wasn’t his fault. She is a spy and he is a soldier. And while she was playing lone wolf, he was trying to offer support, and she had ignored him.

Maker.

“No I-“ Sabé pauses, and looks at him. “That was my fault.” She can’t find any other words, and mercifully, Rex seems to accept her half apology and changes the subject.

“Fighting General Grievous was easier than this.” He mumbles under his breath.

“You’ve fought General Grievous?” Sabé says.

“Yeah, and it hurt less.”

They both pause. They had crossed a bridge. Both of them serve as the right hands of the ridiculous people they love but can’t see past the end of their noses.

And they’re both exhausted.

He laughs then. It’s an overtired laugh interrupted by a harsh cough, but it’s a laugh. And it makes Sabé laugh too.

In the dim streetlights, Sabé lets herself breathe. And relax.

“This is ridiculous!” She says suddenly, muffled between coughing giggles. “We look ridiculous, and this mission is ridiculous and our friends are ridiculous.”

With a huffed laugh, Rex forces himself to stand, and offers Sabé his hand.

“Let’s get him this time.”

As it turns out, they don’t have to look far. Less than two klicks away, the reporter stands over a garbage can, vomiting. Camera held limply around his neck.

“Surrender your camera, or face the consequences.” Rex says, standing over the reporter as he hurls. He sounds so serious, Sabé tries not to laugh.

“Just take it.” The man mumbles. “Dear maker, just take the kriffing camera.” Reaching around his neck, the reporter unclips his camera and holds it out limply.

Sabé reaches forward and rips it from his hands, cradling it to her chest.

“Thank you for your service, citizen.” Rex finishes, nodding his head politely.

“Whatever.” The man mumbles, “Just leave me alone.”

“All this for a holo.” Rex says. He’s got a playful tone, despite his knee guard missing and all the pieces of trash in his hair.

But Sabé ignores his quip, and wanders to a more secluded part of the alley. She scrolls through the memory files, passing moments and memories and gossip and-

There.

They look ridiculous. Sabé thinks, but she knows that’s not true.

They look happy. Even through the lens, their warmth is captured.

Padmé’s warmth.

The way she looks at Anakin is so warm.

So loving.

Sabé lingers for a moment, holding the camera gently between her hands. Staring.

“My hands are yours.”

Then with all the power she can manage, Sabé throws the camera down and smashes it against the pavement.

Sparks fly and bits of metal shatter this way and that, kicking up dirt and muck. The flickering metal almost looks poetic.

Almost.

Rex is silent for a moment, staring at the unceremonial end, and Sabé can’t seem to find her voice.

Something in her chest ached. It’s probably a displaced rib, Sabé reasons, but she knows that isn’t really it.

Thankfully, Rex seems to know how to defuse uncomfortable situations.

“We should call someone to pick us up.” He huffs, gaze pointed at the endless levels above them. “I’m not walking back.” Sabé almost laughs.

“Can we eat first?” She asks instead, trying to swallow the strange tears caught in her throat, and rolling her aching shoulder.

“Yeah I could eat.”

“Do you have any money?”

“Nope.” He says with a grin, offering her his arm like they were leaving a charity ball and not crawling out of a dumpster.

That makes Sabé laugh. But she links her arm into his anyway and punches him in the shoulder, ignoring the way he winces.

“Fine. We’ll just charge Senator Amidala’s card.”

“You have access to the Senators bank?”

“Sometimes I AM the senator Rex.”

“Right. Sometimes I forget that.”

Sabé laughs.

“That’s the whole point, dummy.”

The diner they find looks almost as disgusting as they do.

Filled with flickering lights, unkempt floors, and more than a few blaster marks, the establishment doesn’t even react when a beaten up clone trooper and a crazy girl in half a dress show up and ask for a table.

The corner booth smells a bit like garbage, but Sabé reasons she also smells like garbage, so in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a big deal. At least she could eat.

“Their wedding kinda sucked.” Sabé says, voice slightly muffled in between bites of her sandwich.

“I’ve never been to a wedding.” Rex responds, taking another bite of his cushnip. He had a weird taste for someone whose main diet consisted of ration bars.

“They suck. Never let your best friend talk you into attending one.”

“Noted.”

“It was just me, and two droids.” Sabé swallows, “Have you ever had to make conversation with two droids at a secret wedding?”

“I’ve had to make conversation with undead Genioshians.” He tries, pointing his fork at her.

“That’s not the same.”

It’s silent for a moment, Rex still pointing at her, and then they both burst into laughter.

Uncontrollable, over tired laughter. Sabé only stops when her arching chest can’t take it anymore.

“Why are you blonde?” She interrupts suddenly. “I thought all clones were Jango Fett, well, clones.”

“What?” He breathes, coughing at the end, and staring at her in disbelief. “I help you chase a reporter 30 levels, and all you want to ask is ‘why are you blonde?’ That’s the best you can do?”

Sabé tries to laugh again, but her chest hurts so much she stops herself.

“Do I really look that awful?” Rex reaches up and pulls another piece of trash from his blacks.

“Yes.” Sabé says with a smile, “You look ridiculous without your bucket.”

Rex rolls his eyes, pointing at her again.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.”

Something catches his eye, and Rex glances out the diner window.

“There’s our ride.”

Outside, a Republic landspeeder settles into the parking lot recklessly. There’s an ARC trooper in the driver's seat, white armor painted the same blue as Rex. A member of his battalion no doubt.

Quickly rising, Sabé settles the bill, and follows Rex towards the trooper.

She wants to get out of this hole as quickly as possible. And shower. Twice.

“What happened to you?” The ARC trooper asks, and Sabé can’t tell if his tone is genuine concern or teasing.

Or perhaps both.

“Not now.” Rex mumbles, as he brushes past the trooper and practically falls into the back seat of the landspeeder.

“Hi.” The trooper turns to her now, and even through the helmet's voice altering, Sabé can hear his tone dripping with charisma. She gives a half laugh, but it sounds more like a wheeze.

“Hi.” She responds, “I’m Sabé.”

“I’m Fives.” He replies, “Hang out in the underworld often?”

“Can it, Trooper.” Rex yells from the landspeeder. His head is leaned against the seat, and his brow is furrowed, as if this happens all the time. “Just get us back to base.”

“Yes Captain.” Fives says with a loose salute, but he nods at Sabé, and she swears he winks under his helmet.

Carefully maneuvering around her bruises, Sabé settles into the backseat beside Rex.

“You know.” Sabé starts, “If I’m going to be a third wheel more often, I wouldn’t mind serving with you Captain.”

“It’s been an honor Sabé,” Rex says, and then pauses, “but in all honesty I could never do this again and be just fine.”

Sabés cracked rib hurts too much to laugh.

Tags

rex

gelphie - modern au

so! i did a poll like a week or so ago and model glinda/photographer elphie won in terms of modern aus you'd want to see. idk if I'll make a full fic but figured i'd give y'all a taste of the idea:

///

“Hey, Pfannee.” Elphaba lifts a hand in a casual wave as she enters the room, nodding her head to some of the other staff as she makes her way over to the young man. He brightens when he sees her, tottering over happily with his arms full of clothes.

Typical Pfannee.

“Elphaba, hey girl! Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?”

“I’ve got three minutes to spare, what do you mean?”

Pfannee laughs, awkwardly nudging his glasses back up his nose without dropping his load. Elphaba drifts further into the room, putting down her bag and sipping on her tea.

“So, I heard we’re working with someone new today,” she drawls.

Beside her, Pfannee gasps. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

But Pfannee’s shocked expressions falls into something mischievous and he shakes his head. “Nope. Not going to ruin the surprise now. You’re going to die when you see her.”

Elphaba rolls her eyes. By the way he’s acting, this new model is likely someone famous. Or- famous to Pfannee at least. Elphaba doesn’t really keep up with anyone like that. Despite having chosen photography as her career, she tries to keep herself separate from the fashion industry at large.

It’s incredibly toxic, and she’s seen what it can do to people. Case in point:

“I can't believe I get to take her new measurements! Rumors say that she’s lost weight, and that means I’ll be the first to know her smallest size!” Pfannee grins like that’s a completely reasonable thing to say about an adult woman.

Elphaba hides her frown behind another sip of tea. Most models don’t really have a lot of room to lose weight. If it’s enough to make a visible difference, especially since the woman’s last job, then she’s likely dropped a concerning amount in a very small time period.

Elphaba spends the next blur of time discussing the shoot with the other photographers as well as the lighting crew, the hair and makeup artists, and Pfannee and his lackeys. They’re mostly set up and ready to go when a voice announces the model is on her way in, and everyone bustles around to prepare.

Elphaba waits calmly, Pfannee nearly vibrating beside her. “Here she comes!” he says, just barely remembering in time not to physically shake Elphaba’s shoulders.

A man enters first, stunningly dressed in a tailored navy suit with his chestnut hair swept back and his blue eyes sparkling. That’s sign number one. The second sign is the voice floating behind him, high and airy and delicate. Almost sing-songy.

Ice floods through Elphaba’s veins. It stops her heart for several seconds before it kicks back on, three times faster than before. Dread twists in her stomach as she turns and eyes the doorway where a glimmer of pink and gold awaits her.

It’s been years since she’s seen Glinda Upland. At least- in person that is.

Glinda Upland, one of the highest-paid models in the country, is featured on enough billboards, magazines, ads, commercials, social media posts, and celebrity shows to make even the lowliest citizen feel like they personally know her. Her face is everywhere, and what a stunning face it is.

Gorgeous and defined with flawless pale skin and dark chocolate eyes. Long lashes flutter as she blinks, and a single dimple carves into her cheek with every smile. America’s darling. Tiny, dazzling, desirable.

And the woman Elphaba once loved.

61 notes View Post

endortheline

3 years ago

"It was me, Cody. It was me who killed Waxer. I'm almost positive about this..." Rex said quietly // If it's not so too late, oh, lovely Angst Igauana

It Was.... You?

You have awakened something terrible. This idea is exquisitely torturous and Iove it.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Rex hadn't stopped shaking, for days, he'd been shaking non-stop. Even while Cody held him and rocked him in his arms, telling him everything wasn't terrible anymore, he still shook. He still cried and he still wanted to die. The two sat in the barracks, Rex was holding himself as Cody did. The younger brother stared off as the memories flashed through his head, his stomach turning, "Cody, I, I think I know who shot Waxer." He mumbled, eyes not meeting his brother's.

Cody perked up, "What do you mean?" They know who shot Waxer, it was a brother, but it wasn't on purpose and it wouldn't have happened if Krell hadn't been there. "Rex, what do you mean?" He asked again. For a long moment, Rex didn't move, every part of him numb as a hot tear streamed down his face.

"I keep replaying everything in my head and I remember seeing a spot on a helmet, Waxer's helmet." Rex recalled, his voice monotone and broken, "Cody, I killed him," his head at last turned to face Cody, who's eyes narrowed. "He's dead because of me."

"Rex, it wasn't your fault, if you had known-"

"But I didn't!" Rex screamed, jumping to his feet, he stumbled a little as his knees almost gave out. "I didn't know so I shot him!" He continued to scream, causing Cody's throat to run dry as he desperately thought of what to say. "I don't deserve to be a Captain, not when I lead good men to their deaths. I killed so many brothers, I was counting in my head, wanna know how many?" His voice was dry.

Cody stared at his brother, he was sleep deprived, shaky and still in shock. Cody couldn't think of what to say to his poor brother, "Twentynine" Rex inturrupted Cody's thoughts, "I killed twentynine brothers before I realized they were brothers." Rex laughed, tears pouring from his eyes, "Twentynine brothers died by my hand, Waxer died by my hand before I realized, they were brothers."

Cody stood up, reaching out his hand, but just as he was about to speak, a voice cut in. "What did you say?" Both brothers turned to them, Boil. He stood still, "What did you say?" He repeated, taking a step closer. "C-cause it sounded like you said you killed Waxer, d-did you Rex? Kill Waxer?" Boil fumbled over his words. He hadn't been able to sleep, he hadn't been able to breath.

Rex froze as he stared at Boil, he'd never seen him without Waxer by his side. "I did, I killed him." Rex confirmed. Cody shook his head, and as he was about to speak, but found himself cut off yet again as Boil ran into Rex, forcing him against the wall, gripping his shirt collar tightly.

"It was you?!" He screamed, slamming Rex against the wall, "You killed him!?" He screamed, tears of pained rage falling from his eyes, "You killed my brother! My best friend!" He pulled Rex forward slightly before slamming him back yet again. Rex tried to break free, but part of him didn't fight back, for he deserved this. "You killed Waxer, out of everyone it was you?!" He kept slamming Rex back until Cody broke them apart. "You bastard!" He yelled.

"Boil!" Cody screamed as he shoved him off Rex and back, "Take a walk!" He ordered, voice loud and sharp. Rex fell to the ground, sobbing loudly like a child, rocking slightly. "Go-" Cody ordered, watching Boil shake his head, a snarl on his face. He stared at Rex, still shaking his head before leaving the barracks in a rush. Once Boil had promptly exited, Cody turned to Rex and collapsed to the floor next to him, "Hey, Rex, it's okay lil'un," Cody reached his hand out, only to jump when Rex snapped away

"Don't touch me!" Rex wailed as he rocked, whimpering between staggered breaths, "I deserved it! I deserve this!" He continued to ball as Cody felt his own heart crumble at the sight of seeing his baby brother so indescribable hurt. "Leave me alone." Rex whimpered, burying his face in his arms .

"N-no!" Cody blurted as his eyes watered, "I'm not leaving you." He stated, catching Rex's attention as he spoke, for his voice had cracked. Cody couldn't meet the gaze of his little brother, for he was supposed to be strong, he wasn't supposed to cry in front of him.

"Cody." Rex whimpered, becoming more sad that he made his brother cry. "Cody please don't cry, please." Rex begged as he crawled towards his brother, he was frantically wiping his eyes, but the tears were too much. Rex reached his brother and tugged on Cody's arms, but they wouldn't budge "Cody, stop crying," Rex continued to weakly pull his brother's arm as he had when they were young, "Stop crying!"

"I can't!" Cody's head shot up, "I know I'm supposed to be strong enough for us but dammit Rex, I can't take it! I can't take watching you sob and sob and I can't handle the fact that I can't help you or take away your pain!" Cody confessed, face red hot, "You're suffering and I can't help you!" Rex stared wide-eyed at Cody as he thought of what to say, but nothing came in mind. So Rex did the one thing he knew he could, he hugged his brother.

Pulling Cody to him and hugging him tightly. "I love you, Bubby." Rex mumbled, hiding his head in Cody's shoulder and neck. He felt Cody's shoulders drop as his arms wrapped around him, tightly closing his eyes as he held Rex just as tight. "....I know I'm a mess sometimes, you're always there for me, I never stopped to consider that you were a mess too." Rex sighed, his tears finally stopping. Cody whimpered as he rocked the two of them, eyes shut tight.

"It's okay." Cody forced out in a clear tone, "That's what big brothers are supposed to do," Cody pulled away from the hug, he forced a soft smile as he reached out and wiped away the tears on Rex's face, "I'm supposed to take care of you." He stated. Rex reached out his hand to wipe away Cody's tears, he then smiled,

"Doesn't mean I can't take care of you too"

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

|| Tag List ||

@ct7567329 @a-lil-perspective @mageofcole @advcntura @crying-at-ikea @stuckyjacos @crahsystor @obiorbenkenobi @satan-incarnate-666 @kalm421 @passionofthesith @mackstrut @jonathananubian @kamino-mermaid @hotnthorny @jyvorakal @xdangerouslysoftx @big1ron @blue-haired-grace @rangerslayer-97 @alienoresimagines

Tags

rex umbara post umbara

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endortheline

3 years ago

The defective one

He heard them. Speaking about one of his many little brothers. They were discussing about the usefulness to keep him alive despite his default.

- It’s not like the other ones. Kill it.

- Except for the hair, it’s fine.

- We will have to sell it twice cheaper. It’s a waste of money.

- It doesn’t fit the specifications. Kill it.

CC-2224 stopped listening to this atrocious conversation and made a decision. He has to save this little boy, crying out loud in the general indifference. The “long-necks” were like that, ignoring the pain and the emotions of their creatures. In their gigantic black eyes, clones were just nothing more than a source of money provided that the army they were creating was perfect. And all the excuses were good to suppress the young ones who were not exactly the way they wanted: too little, too skinny, too pale, too slow… What about this one?

CC-2224 didn’t care. He just wanted to save this one from their claws. Taking advantage of one of the Kaminoans stepping away from the table, he ran to it and caught the tiny arm. Not paying attention of the orders falling from their mouth, he took the young boy in his arms. He was heavier than he thought but he didn’t drop him and ran backward, escaping their long fingers. Then he hid behind some machinery, ordering his brother to keep quiet. Luckily, the tiny boy was so fascinated by his big brother that he remained silent all the time they stayed hidden. Even when he started to pat his face with a surprisingly high strenght.

- What’s up with the little frog? asked CT-3636 when he finally arrived into their secret place.

Him and his brothers hid there when they didn’t want to study, like this day.

- They wanted to kill him.

CT-3636 rolled his eyes over the sky. He heard this sentence too many times before.

- And for what? Just some blond hair, he sighed while sitting down to release the little one.

Actually, CC-2224 was quite amazed by the color of his brother hair. They were so light that they seem to be translucent here and there. The contrast with his dark skin was impressive.

- Hello, there, said CT-5052, crouching to be closed enough to the new comer.

The baby looked at him with the same fascinated gaze as he has for him times ago. CC-2224 supposed he has never seen clones before - not grown-ups like them, actually. CT-5052 nicelly booped his tiny nose with his finger to reassure him, but CT-3636 pushed him away and raised his fist in front of his little face.

- He’s too young for this, underligned CC-2224. He won’t understand.

- That’s what you say, snapped CT-3636. Come on, bro! Show me who’s the man here!

The big amber eyes widened as much as the snarly smile of CT-3636 stretched on his round face.

***

I don’t know again if it’s accurate or not and I don’t care. I just wanted to draw a tiny Rex with a big brother Cody. And I don’t want to hear about “dyed hair” or something. For me, Rex is a natural blond baby mutant (what? We’ve got clones with blue eyes, it’s necesseraly a mutation. Why not hair color mutation?). Remember, I love contrast so blond hair with dark skin is just perfect for me. :D

Bly looks older on this drawing but he’s not (it’s just that I can’t draw him well). ^^;

Even if it’s not obvious with the last drawings I’ve made, I’m more a sketcher than a colored finished pieces drawer (and I’m more a writer than a drawer anyway). But, clones seem to motivate me enough to push me to make some effort. Enjoy. For now.

(Sorry for the mistakes again, French speaker is in da place! /o/)

Tags

Smol Rex blond rex

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endortheline

1 year ago

How to lose your beastly murder cyborg

Covid sucks. My symptoms are mild, a testament that my heart condition is currently in remission—it is psychosomatic, though no less potentially deadly. ANYWAY

My biggest comfort has been an AU with @spacingstars and @ninjigma were Vader crawled out of his eggie one day and found a tiny little blonde bebe on his floor. Took a moment, Sith-juice fried his brain, but he eventually recognized it as a Clone!

Anyway, because though we can think of a more serious plot and context for all this, the comfort stuff is totally crackish. It is Vader losing what's left of his damn marbles because...

Baby.

Tiny. Baby. Bouncing. Blonde. Ickle. Clone. Who looked UP at him, grinned a toothless smile, papped his oversized boots, and... giggled.

Vader was done. He is over. Sanity, all of it questionable and tainted, has completely flipped. It reset something in him, like it was hands that found his hidden reset button in his back. Might have been his mother's ghostly touch or Padme's. Eithe rway. DONE.

Our little comfort scenarios skip to Vader eventually realizing bebe was in danger, and hightailed out of there. How did he find Obi-Wan? Who knows. But, he did. Pretty much knocked in the door to his old master's sad-man cave.

Where can he put the crib?

Stop gawking at him! He needs a charging station for the Nanny Droid! Here, hold baby.

Little Rex (because, of course it is) just stared at Obi-Wan. He honestly hadn't seen a lot of PEOPLE with faces. He saw Vader with and without his helmet. He'd seen plenty of droids. He'd seen Kaminoan. But...

Little fingers reached up, gently edged the old man's—Obi-Wan's eyes are already wet—beard, curled his fingers deep into that greying tuft of thick fuzz, then...

YANKED real good!

"Ow!" Infant death grip made all efforts to extracat little fingers almost a lost cause.

The crackle of static heard out of Vader was laughter. Obi-Wan didn't recognize it, but bebe does—Rex just giggled more.

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endortheline

3 years ago

Hmm how about speechless and Rex??

Speechless: Rex can't speak because of a sore throat.

“You’re definitely sick,” Kix remarked.

Rex glared at Kix. Really? He was sick? He had no idea, other than his crusty eyes and sniffly nose and the open sores at the back of his throat that felt like tiny daggers when he swallowed, nevermind spoke.

“I’d like to keep you in the medbay, for the next day or two. At least until you can speak again.” Rex crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. He knew Kix; he would never phrase it optionally unless it was optional. So Rex would be breaking no regulations by walking out of the medby right now.

Which he fully intended on doing, as he got up and headed for the door.

“Captain!” Kix caught him by the arm. “You can barely swallow, which means eating and drinking, both of which you need to do to get well, are going to be problematic. If you stay here, and rest, I can get you an IV and you’ll get better faster.”

Rex shook his head. As always, there was too much to be done. Better to work at partial efficiency for a while than zero percent efficiency. At least to make Kix feel better (and not because he was desperately thirsty) he took the cup of ice chips Kix had brought out earlier. The cold would be good for his throat.

*****

Kix watched with a scowl as Rex walked out. How was Rex even going to communicate with anyone?

Right, Rex did know some hand signs from his arc training. But the only people who could translate for him were other ARC’s…

Kix chuckled. The things he did to keep his patients in the medbay.

*****

Rex looked for Echo or Fives to help him “talk” to others. Try as he might, he couldn’t find Echo anywhere, but Fives was in the barracks, chatting with Hardcase about detonator yield.

Fives, with me he signed to the ARC.

Fives tilted his head. “Tooka got your tongue, Captain?”

Rex could almost swear he was hiding a smile. How many people knew he was sick already?

Rex motioned again, and walked back out.

Fives kicked Hardcase in farewell. “See yah later, ‘Case. Maybe we can go beyond theoretical and test some of your theories out.” Hardcase drummed on his legs in excitement.

*****

Those munitions storage, those food storage, Rex signed. A large shipment of new supplies had just come in, and needed to be inventoried and put away. Rex put himself in charge of directions, with Fives standing by.

Fives nodded. “Alright, those need to go to munitions, and those go to the food stores,” Fives said- switching the supplies.

Rex shook his head, and repeated himself.

“Ah, sorry Captain. Men, those go to munitions, and those go to food.”

More daggers in his throat as he swallowed some ice. Rex must have made a face, because Fives knocked his own vambrace against his. “You good there Captain?”

Rex nodded and shoved more ice in his mouth.

Thirty cases of the next bunch.

Fives turned to those offloading. “Woah men, too many! We need three, not thirty.”

Rex smacked Fives. Thirty, he signed again, making each motion sharp with his annoyance. Fives did learn ARC signals, right?

“Right right, thirty it is. Sorry brothers.”

Those are for the Commander.

“Bring these to General Skywalker’s room.”

Rex checked the registry and paled, before wildly waving his hands. He did not want to explain how a box full of female sanitation products ended up with the General.

T-A-N-O, he signed, letter by letter.

Fives laughed. “Oh, the Commander? Why didn’t you say so?”

Rex glared at Fives, before marching off to find Echo.

*****

Rex searched everywhere, but couldn’t find Echo. He even commed the Domino, but Echo was unusually silent.

Finally, Rex realized there was one place he hadn’t checked yet.

Echo was indeed in the medbay, helping Kix prep an empty bed with an IV drip and a cup of ice chips.

“Captain!” Kix said, all to cheerful. “Glad you could make it.”

You. Rex pointed at Kix. You did this.

“I don’t think the Captain’s too happy,” Echo remarked innocently. “He thinks you did something.”

“What? Captain, I never would do such a thing as telling Fives to forget his ARC signs for a day, and telling Echo to come here so he can help me prep your bed. Now, I suggest you take off your armor if you want to recover a semblance of comfort.”

Rex scowled at Kix, then accepted defeat by sitting on the bed and slowly stripping off his armor.

Once he was solely in his blacks, Kix pulled Rex’s sleeve up and stuck an IV in the crook of his elbow. “There. Hydration, nutrition, and even a small dose of painkillers because I’m so nice.”

Rex sighed, and gave Kix a thumbs up before sinking into the pillows.

Before Echo could leave, Rex gave him a couple signs, and Echo laughed.

“What did he say,” Kix said, curious.

“Oh I couldn’t repeat it. But the gist of it is, Fives better run when Rex is better.”

Tags

rex sick rex

326 notes View Post

endortheline

3 years ago

angstpril day 4: he’s not heavy, he’s my brother

oh dear, oh dear. have some Umbara (derogatory)

(tw: major character death)

“Sir!” Waxer skids to a stop, out of breath. “I’ve found the platoon leader. He’s still alive.” The forest shivers around them, imaginary enemies blinking red eyes in the distance.

Cody hates it here. “Who is it?”

Waxer swallows and his face pales. “It’s—” he clutches the helmet in his hand tighter, duraplast creaking in his grip. “It’s Rex.”

Keep reading

Tags

rex umbara

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endortheline

1 week ago

Oh you NEED to continue the kid fic bc I’m obsessed! Not asking for a full fledged story (I mean hey, unless you want to) but just a small continuation at least please🙏 What do you hc their ages to be in it? What’s Morrible’s reaction to the bit at the end there? I need to know

ask and u shall receive, fair anon. their ages are roughly 5 & 8/9 9 think?

(direct continuation of this post btw - read that first! idk why this got so long, my bad)

///

The woman seems taken aback by both the girls’ reactions, standing awkwardly above them. Elphie’s shaking hard, but she stands up with her arms spread and her knees locked as to prevent the woman from getting any closer.

Galinda shouldn’t be such a crybaby, such a coward, but she can’t help feeling grateful for the older girl’s protection. The woman has stopped advancing, but she still looks angry.

She really should just stand up and accept it. Momsie hates when Galinda starts begging. She says it’s ‘unbecoming of a lady’ to wail like she does. It never makes it better. And running away? Why, that’s just asking for trouble.

With great effort, Galinda places a hand over her mouth to silence her cries, sniffling hard and swallowing down mucus and tears. She still feels sick to her stomach as she gathers her limbs. Just as she makes to stand, though- Elphie turns around, eyes wide as she shoves at Galinda.

“Stay down!” she hisses. Her eyes flicks to the woman. “I won’t let her hurt you.”

The woman seems calmer now, more collected. Her previous fierce glare has shifted into something more curious than anything else. She raises a single eyebrow at Elphie’s statement.

“I’m not planning on hurting anyone,” she says. “I…apologize for my outburst. I was merely concerned that something had happened.”

Galinda doesn’t believe her. She’d been yelling about blondes. Galinda’s the only blonde in the room; she had to have done something wrong.

Sometimes, when they’re in public, or she feels there’s a lesson to be learned, Momsie won’t punish her right away. She’ll make Galinda wait, knowing the inevitable is coming, letting it build in her belly until she’s so tied into knots she can barely even breathe.

Perhaps this woman is the same. Or perhaps she’s waiting to see if Elphie does anything that will add to the punishment. Momsie does that as well at times. Counts indiscretions and waits until the end of the day to tell Galinda all the things she did wrong.

The thought makes more tears leak down Galinda’s face. Gulping again, she stands up and resigns herself to her fate. She doesn’t want Elphie to be punished. Elphie is her friend.

Galinda loves her.

“Elphie,” Galinda whispers. At some point, she’d accidentally slid her thumb between her lips while blocking her mouth, and she’s quick to yank it out when she realizes.

Only babies suck their thumbs, Galinda!

Galinda hopes no one saw that. She reaches out to tug on the back of Elphie’s shirt. “I-it’s otay. I was b-bad.”

Elphie whips her head around, glaring. “No, you weren’t. You just had an accident; you’re not bad.” She turns her hard stare back to the woman, visibly trembling as she does. “She’s not.”

“Of course, Elphaba,” the woman says smoothly, though she shoots Galinda a dirty look. Elphie flinches hard at the use of her name.

“Do-do I know you? Or…do you know my father?”

There’s a pause. The woman tilts her head. “I do know your father,” she finally says. Slower than before. More calculating. Her gaze shifts to Galinda. “My name is Madame Morrible. I know who both of you are.”

Galinda whimpers. If this lady--Morrible--knows her momsie and popsicle, than she’ll probably tell them about Galinda’s accident, and then Galinda will be in even more trouble. She should just take her punishment now, no matter how scared she is.

Galinda steps around Elphie on shaky legs. She glances up at Morrible briefly, too frightened to meet her eyes, then bows her head and clasps her hands.

“I-I’m sowwy, Miss Mowwible,” she whispers. “I made a mess and was bad. I’ll take m-my punishment now.”

Elphie tries to grab for her, but Galinda steps aside. She wipes an arm over her teary face. “Please don’ hurt Elphie. She’s my fwiend, and s-she’s been weally nice.”

Morrible bends down to be on Galinda’s face level, the little girl shrinking back in fear. Elphie comes up beside her in support. She has several inches on Galinda, and despite how clearly afraid she is, she’s also very clearly protective.

“She’s just little,” Elphie argues. “You can’t punish her for being scared. No hits.”

Galinda gasps at Elphie’s boldness. You aren’t supposed to talk back to adults. She shudders as Morrible looms even closer, terrified her friend has just made things even worse.

“Elphie, no,” Galinda whispers, stumbling on her heels when she leans back too far. The older girl steadies her, still glaring. You’ll make her mad, Galinda doesn’t say.

Morrible’s eyes narrow, then she straightens to her full height, book dangling from her fingertips, and smiles. It’s not a very happy-looking smile. Nor a comforting one.

“I’m not going to hit you, little ones,” she says. “It appears there has been some...confusion.”

Elphie grabs Galinda’s hand. “Are you going to send us home?” she asks. Galinda can’t tell by her tone if Elphie is hoping for a yes or a no.

“Not yet,” Morrible answers. Her gaze flicks over their diminutive forms. “You see- there is magic at play here. Dangerous, powerful magic.”

Galinda feels Elphie wince, shrinking into herself. “Magic?” she questions, voice small. Galinda has always wanted magic- ever since her Nona told her about it.

“Yes, dear. Magic. That’s why you are here. You may not remember, but it’s important you stay here and that you are on your best behavior as we sort everything out. Can you do that? Can you be good?”

Both girls nod tentatively.

Galinda feels Elphie’s hand tighten. “Where is here?” she asks.

“Why, the Emerald City, of course.”

At that- Elphie finally looks up again, eyes bright. “The Emerald City?” she breathes.

Morrible’s smile grows. “Yes. This is the palace of the wonderful Wizard of Oz himself.”

“The Wizard,” Elphie gasps. She seems delighted by the news. Meanwhile- Galinda is horrified. She peed on the Wizard’s floor!

Galinda rocks back and forth, stomach knotting and tears resurging. She feels wrung out and overwhelmed, too small to comprehend everything that is happening. She’s away from home for the first-ever time, surrounded by strangers in a place she’s never been, and she still hasn’t been punished.

The wait is agony.

Elphie seems to pick up on her dip in mood, pulling Galinda a little closer and giving her hand another squeeze. “M-miss Morrible? If we’re not going home, where are we going to stay?”

Things move a little faster after that. More people enter the room, tall men in shiny armor whose eyes all widen in shock at the sight of the children. Galinda leans on Elphie’s arm, letting the taller girl hold her against her side and whisper to her soothingly as they follow the men down the hall.

The palace is vast, and every now and then Galinda catches sight of large furred creatures with massive blue wings and terrifyingly large teeth. It seems to take ages to get to a bedroom, Morrible telling them under no uncertain terms that they are not allowed to leave without permission.

Elphie stands in front of Galinda again as the lady gives her instructions, points out the attached bathroom, and tells them someone will be by with food in a little bit. She doesn’t offer any clothes, even though Galinda’s are soiled and gross.

When the door finally slams shut, Galinda all but collapses against Elphie. She’s confused and her head hurts and her stomach hurts and her dress is ruined and her lungs are aching. She’s clutching Elphie hard enough to bruise, trying to draw strength from the older girl, even though Elphie is terrified too. Elphie is confused, too.

But Elphie is a big sister, not that Galinda remembers it, and so Elphie is able to shove down her fear and confusion and gently turn to Galinda, wrapping her in a hug as she breaks down in heaving sobs. She’s tired, and she’s hungry, and she doesn’t feel good.

She says all this to Elphie, whining in a way she knows she’s too old for, and Elphie just rubs her back and shushes her. Eventually, Galinda’s legs give way to the force of her cries, and Elphie carefully picks her up, grunting with effort until Galinda is high enough to wrap her legs around the green girl’s waist and hold on.

“It’ll be okay, Galinda,” Elphie says. “I’ve got you.”

“I-I-I want to go home,” Galinda cries. Even if she’s terrified of what her parents may say about how she’s behaved, it’s at least a predictable, almost comfortable fear. This place is new and cold and entirely too confusing to want to stay.

“I know,” Elphie sighs. “Me too.”

Galinda frowns, slipping her thumb back in her mouth now that there’s no adults around to see. Elphie won’t mind. Elphie won’t tattle on her. As the older girl carries Galinda to the bed and carefully places her down, climbing up beside her to hug her once more, Galinda clings to her desperately.

Galinda wants to go home…but she also wants Elphie. She can’t bear the thought of parting with the older girl. The very idea of being separated sends ten times as much fear through her little body, making her shiver and shake as her stomach twists so hard she’s scared she’ll make a mess.

“Don’ wan’ you to l-leave,” she stammers out. She buries her nose in the crook of Elphie’s neck, breathing in her faint scent. It’s familiar. Comforting. Elphie’s warm body against hers as their hearts start to settle just feels right.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Elphie promises. She runs her fingers through blonde locks. “I would never leave you, Galinda.”

Galinda nibbles on her thumb, still worried and anxious. But the words soothe her a little, slowing the incessant flow of tears. She wonders if Elphie would want to come live with her when they escape. Elphie would be nice to her. Elphie wouldn’t hurt her. She wouldn’t yell at Galinda for being too dumb or too quiet or too emotional.

Elphie would love Galinda. Just like Galinda loves Elphie.

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endortheline

1 week ago

Okay so idea for angsty fic with Fiyero actually shooting Glinda in the cornfield. Meanwhile Elphaba doesn’t know that Glinda is hurt and is casting the spell trying to save Fiyero who manages to escape (he’s traumatized). Glinda is declared “dead” becomes a martyr. But, somehow Elphie’s spell affects her and Morrible works some magic that has surprising effects on Glinda

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endortheline

2 years ago

Rex, trying to give a motivational speech but then it evolved into him casualty talking about his really really fucked up cadethood:

“-I mean yeah all the other kids bullied me, hated me even, and no one liked me or even came near me. Come to think of it I did get shuffled around a lot, but that’s just because my entire original batch was decommissioned. And yeah I did have a lot of near death experiences, but I only needed to be resuscitated a handful of times. Ha, there was that one time a trainer threw me off a platform because they were sick of dealing with all my paperwork, but I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and hauled myself out of the ocean. You know what they say; you want something done you gotta do it yourself, because no one else is going to do it for you! I think I came out the other side just fine and I’m stronger because of it! :)”

The entire 501st: “…whAT THE FUUUUUCK!”

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