I Had A Sudden Urge To Write Out The Moment Nova Learns That Rex Gets Ahsoka As A Padawan And I Guess

Blue sounds like a beautiful color

A blind Leo AU one shot

...

One day like others in the deepest of the sewers,the ex-world champion Lou Jitsu, which real name is Hamato Yoshi,was preparing for another one exhaustin day with his four blessings, Raphael the big brother,Donatello and Leonardo,the "twin" brothers,and Michaelangelo the baby brother,they now have 4,3 and 2 years respectively.

Despite being of different species and ages,the poor old rat has a bad memory and very often mistake their names,he had the idea to put them nicknames based of their shells but this was a bad idea because Raph hate being named like "Snapping one" and Donnie like "Soft one".

"They need a colors code" think to himself

While they were taking their nap,Splinter took the oportunity to go outside the sewers and take a lot of colorfull clothes for his babies.

"Sleep well my sons..."He said while climbed the sewer stairs

Hours later,that afternoon,the kids was very playful,Raph crush every fruit of the fridge with his feet to make smoothies,Donnie destroyed the TV, again. His sole defense was to see how it was made, Mikey was painting on all the walls and Leo, he had a lot of fun listening to the chaos his brothers caused but he wanted to be apart of it.

"Leo!! Come here and paint with me!"

"Sure Mikey!" Leo likes the sensation of have paint between his fingers so he just lends Mikey choose the paint and he put his hands on it

"You always let me choose the colors,what color do you like more?"

"Ummm"Leo paused briefly "I don't know,what's your favorite color?"

"Oh!! This one!!"Then Mikey grabed a can of orange paint " It's orange!"

"Like the fruit?"

"Yes!!"

Then the red eared slider began to smell every can of paint "Ugh! everything smells bad!" said,covering his nose

Mikey only laughted "The paint does not smell good, you have to see the colors to differentiate them"

"What is "see" Mikey? Why you can "see" them but I can't?"

"You don't know what is "see"? See is...You know!! See! When you wake up and open your eyes,watch TV,see the music!"

"That's only for you Mikey,You have synesthesia" Said the purple one,who was approaching them

"Oh right!"

"Donnie,You are a nerd,what is "see?"

Then Donnie,very exciting,went for makers and a whiteboard,then procced to explain "The vision or visual perception is the ability to interpret visible light information reaching the eyes which is then made available for planning and action. The resulting perception is also known as eyesight, or simply sight adjectival form: visual, optical, or ocular"He said while painting "any other question?"

"Yes,what is perception?" Asked Mikey

"So the see thing is relationated with my eyes?" Asked Leo

"Correct!,but you said you cannot difference the colors or...maybe you can't see the colors"

Mikey gasped with fear "Thats horrible!! You can't see none of them?! The rainbow colors?! Red,orange,yellow,green,blue,purple or pink? or more? black or white?"

"Technically, black is the result of the absence of color or the complete absorption of visible light" said Donnie "You're not helping!" screamed Mikey "You neither!!"replied the spiny softshell

"Guys!! What's the problem? I made a lot of smoothies for all of us!" said Raph

"Raph...is is something wrong with me?"asked Leo with tears in his eyes "Why I can't see? Why is so important? I'm sick? i'm a weirdo? Am I a b-bad b-brother?" Asked covering his eyes

The other three brothers don't know what to say...but they know what to do...one by one they hugged him

"We don't know if you're sick" said Raph "We don't think this converts you in a weird"said Donnie "But we know that you're not a bad brother!" Exclaimed Mikey "did you remember when the lair had a blackout and we were so scared to the dark? You're not! You were very brave! and you hugged me all the time!"

"And you can smell when Splinter puts a wrong or spoiled ingredient better than us" said Raph "And maybe you're the worst to hidding after Raph,but you're the best seeking us" said Donnie

"...Thank you guys,that means a lot!,and maybe I can't see,but I can know how you are" then Leo proceeded to touch the face of each of his brothers"Raph, you're the strongest and big of us and you have a lot of thorns...Donnie,you have a big forehead,maybe that's why you're the smartest...and Mikey,your face is always full of fresh paint,I like it!"

"Je,thanks big bro!" Said the box turtle

Then the four turtles kept playing,this time making things that Leo could do.

Later,Splinter came back with a big bag in his back "Oh childrens~!! your father brings you something!"

"No way!! Did You stole Santa's magic coat?!" Asked Mikey very exciting

"What? No,no Mikey,steal is bad for you,anyway,come on here!" He said while opened the big coat with a lot of kids clothes

"Woahhh~!!!" Gasped Raph,Mikey and Donnie

"What?,what is?"asked Leo very exciting

Splinter just smiled and put on a beautiful blue t-shirt on he "Do You like it?"

Leo procced to touch it"Is...soft,and warm,like your clothes...I like it!! can I have more!?"

"Of course,it's enough for all"

"The big is perfect for me!"Said Raph,putting on a big red football shirt

Mikey took a lot of clothes,especially the orange clothes"Everything is awesome!! I can't decide-"

"The purple clothes it's mine!!" Said Donnie, putting on a purple sweater "Purple like atomic lass~"

"What color would you like,Leo?" Asked Splinter

"Dad! He can't choose, he's blind"

"Yeah,I knew Donatello,but you can help him to decide"

"Mmm~ it's very hard,there is a lot of colors"said Mikey "What's the color of My shirt?"asked Leo "Oh!, it's blue!"answered Donnie

"How is the blue color?"

"Is a great color! It's the sky color,the sea color...your eyes color!"said Mikey

"Really?!"

"Yes!! And your shell color too!" Said Donnie

"Then I want it!" Exclaimed Leo very happy

"...My sons,I think you can use all the colors,but maybe...this looks better in only each one of you" said Splinter,tying a mask to each of them"

That's how Slinter begun to differentiate them... unfortnunately,this made he forgot his real names a lot of times,but well,at least Leo has one thing more in common with his brothers.

...

I hope you like it,sorry for grammatical errors,english isn't my first language

Thanks to @simplyfornardo for help me with the errors

❤️💜💙🧡

Hello :) Missing my siblings so I wrote this :)

It’s sorta a continuation of this, which is a modern AU where Alpha is the oldest. @plainshobbit all of this is your fault <3

*

Alpha had agreed to babysit for the morning so mom and dad could catch up on sleep. He didn’t have work, his only class was in the afternoon, and for once he was caught up on homework. So while their parents slept in and the other boys left for school, Alpha got Cody his breakfast and Rex a bottle. 

There was one couch in the living room where you could sit and see inside the kitchen, so Alpha settled there with Rex and the bottle and kept half an eye on where Cody sat in dad’s chair with the armrests, smearing scrambled eggs across the kitchen table. Hopefully he got some inside his mouth. Alpha would have to remember to get him a snack later. 

Cody had good balance and Alpha had specifically put him in the only chair he couldn’t fall out of, so eventually he turned his attention from the kitchen to trying to get Rex to fall asleep with the power of warm milk. It was slow going. Rex was a weirdly alert baby. 

Alpha had been five when Fordo was born. He hadn’t been able to help at the time but he’d helped a lot in the ensuing years. He didn’t remember much from when Fordo was a baby, but he remembered everything from when Cody was a newborn, and Cody had been sleepy and serious and calm. 

Rex cried. A lot. If he wasn’t being held he was crying. Anyone who said babies didn’t have personalities didn’t spend much time around them. 

But Rex had also been up all night, and apparently warm milk was just as effective on fussy babies as happy ones, and eventually Rex fell asleep, his little scrunched up face going lax and milk dribbling out of his mouth. Alpha wiped it up and set the mostly empty bottle on the floor and adjusted Rex to be upright against his shoulder. He didn’t want to burp him while he was asleep, but if he did burp or something Alpha wanted to be prepared. 

Finally he breathed a long sigh and closed his eyes and let his head thunk against the back of the couch. He hadn’t been up all night, but he hadn’t gotten as much sleep as he should have, knowing he was going to be dealing with a toddler and a newborn in the morning. 

This was going to be a long day. 

After a few minutes he actually started to drift off so he didn’t notice the terrifying pitter patter of little feet until it was almost too late, jerking his head up just as something squishy slammed into his legs and catching Cody’s slimy hand right before it landed on his jeans. 

“No. You can’t touch, you have egg on you,” he said, very stern. 

Cody gave him a look that said as soon as Alpha let go of that hand he would also have egg on him. 

“Don’t test me, brat,” he muttered under his breath. 

Maintaining eye contact, Alpha released his grip and gently nudged Cody in the stomach with a socked foot. Cody scowled and took a few steps back. 

Leaning as far over as he could without dropping Rex, Alpha fumbled around in the diaper bag next to the couch and found a packet of wipes. Cody whined and wriggled as Alpha cleaned his face and hands, but suffered the indignity. Alpha would have to remember to clean the kitchen before their parents woke up. 

When he was clean Cody again threw himself against Alpha’s legs, waving one fist in the air in Rex’s general direction. 

“Wha’ ith?”

“What is it?” Alpha translated. “It’s baby Rex.”

“Baby Reth?”

“Baby Rex.” Alpha shifted the baby, regarding Cody with a raised eyebrow. “You want to hold him?”

“Ho’l da baby?” 

“Hold the baby, that’s right. Come sit.”

Cody pulled himself up onto the couch, grunting with exertion and heaving a sigh as he flopped next to Alpha. 

He’d held Rex once already, in the hospital when they’d all gone to visit mom, propped up next to her in the bed and with dad’s arms supporting his own. But that had been a whole four days ago and he likely didn’t remember. 

Alpha hesitated, and then carefully set Rex on the cushion on his other side and reached over to pull Cody into his lap. Cody kicked his legs, giggling as he settled. 

“Hold still. You have to hold still.”

“Ho’d still?”

“That’s right. Hold still. Now, put your arms like this.”

Alpha tugged at Cody’s arms until they were curved with enough room to cradle a baby.

“Dis?”

“This. Right. Good.”

Alpha leaned over, making sure he didn’t dislodge Cody, and picked up Rex. Ever so carefully he maneuvered the baby into Cody’s hold, keeping his own arms wrapped around both of them so as to keep the whole squirmy mess of small child contained. 

Cody made a little sound of excited wonder when Rex settled in his arms, miraculously still asleep. Alpha smiled, resting his chin on top of Cody’s head. They were both so very small. 

“Sleepin!”

“Yes, the baby’s sleeping.” 

Cody pulled a hand free– Alpha adjusted his own hold to compensate– and patted Rex forcefully on the head. 

Alpha sucked in a breath. “Gentle, Cody. You have to be gentle. See, like this.”

He maneuvered until he could free his own hand, and then took Cody’s and smoothed down Rex’s curls. “Gentle.” 

“Gent’o.” 

“That’s right. Good job.”

With Alpha’s help Cody sat still and stroked Rex’s hair for almost a full minute, before he got bored and wiggled to be released. Alpha lifted Rex up so Cody could squirm down out of his lap. 

Cody took off towards the stairs, thundering up with all the strength in his little legs. The older boys had started locking their doors as soon as Cody learned to walk, so he should be fine on his own up there for a bit. 

Alpha settled back against the couch once again, Rex a warm weight against his chest. His hair was very soft, and he had a lot of it– dark wispy curls on his head and dark soft fuzz on the back of his neck and shoulders. The blue blanket he’d been sort of swaddled in had come untucked with all the movement, though somehow Rex had remained asleep. Maybe the harder it was to get a baby to sleep the harder it was to wake them up. 

Alpha re-wrapped the blanket as best he could, pressed a kiss to the top of Rex’s head, and then grabbed his phone with the intention of doing some mindless scrolling while he waited for the sound of something breaking to echo down the stairs.

Seguir leyendo

After the Captain

They haunted him at night.

For a while, Rex had convinced himself he was doing okay. He kept moving, place to place, camp to camp, never packing more than he could carry. If it wasn’t in his armor, or tucked into the pockets of his cloak, he didn’t need it. He got up in the morning before the sun, of whatever planet it was today, did. He kept a low profile, watched the gazes of those around him slide over his face without recognition. He collected what he could - bits of data from loosely guarded corners of the networks, bits of food people forgot to chase after, spare parts and necessities from those who forgot to remember them.

In a sense, they’d forgotten him too - him, and the thousands and thousands of people who shared his face. The vode were fading already, sinking to the back of public memory as the Empire hung its gaudy trappings and spread its newly-hatched wings.

But those endless faces never left him alone.

Identical.

Unique. Given the same blank canvas, each person who picks it up will paint something new.

And they had.

He had.

That was the thing. Because he had been one of them, once. There hadn’t been a moment when he hadn’t had someone to turn to, a piece of advice, a shoulder to lean on or a hand to hold or the person next to you, ready to fall in step as you go.

Captain.

They all said it differently, and he did too. It was wry, or joking, affectionate, or sincere, respectful or hopeful or a thousand things he couldn’t name.

For him, it was weighted. Thankful, in a way, desperate, in another. It was the responsibility of all of those faces, all of their newly-painted canvases warped from a galaxy they never knew. But they had never cared, stacking themselves on themselves until someone could make their identity out of the pieces of the others. He could see them without asking their names or finding their faces.

Tup’s smile bled into the horizon, the vod’ika he couldn’t save.

Fives’s laugh echoed in his ears, and something tore in Rex’s stomach every time.

Echo’s hands lingered on his, after the thousandth battle plan, and Rex could only see them shocked thin and wizened and paper-white, abandoned and alone.

Hardcase moved in the corner of his eye, off to his next adventure, and he was gone because Rex hadn’t the strength to stop him.

Kix’s side of the bed was empty, lost to the wind without a word.

Jesse was gone, stolen away, nothing but a body inside of a helmet Rex had helped him paint.

Captain.

There were so many things he could have done. So many things he should have done, would have turned the impossible upside down if it meant saving them for a day, a rotation, a year, a life they never got to live, trauma they never had to have.

Captain.

He heard it in their voices, in Hawk’s voice, in Charger’s voice, in Appo’s and Sterling’s and Koho’s and Vere’s and so many more that he never got the chance to save. He heard it in General Skywalker’s, barely-hidden humor and a kind of sarcastic optimism that infused his steps and his words. He even heard it in Ahsoka’s voice, and he knew she was fine, knew she could take care of herself. But it’s her as barely a Padawan, thrown into a war too big for her, it’s her as a newly-minted commander, it’s her growing into a kind of maturity she shouldn’t have to understand. But he did, because they all did.

It’s Ahsoka’s voice, broken, her hands bloodied and battered from digging their graves. She’s shattered, and there was no one there to hand her a needle and thread and teach her how to sew her scars together.

Captain.

Tup cries, and Fives gasps as his heart fails, and Echo’s hands are cold, and Hardcase closes his eyes before an explosion swallows him whole. Kix’s absence says more than his words ever could, but there’s a ghost of him in all the places he isn’t. And Jesse watches them all. Rex’s mind can imagine what his face looked like, behind his helmet. His eyes glaze and his mouth sets and his newly blank canvas amounts to nothing more than kindling.

Rex wakes up with the salty taste of tears on his tongue. He’s never had to be alone before.

So they haunt him at night, and still he tried to convince himself that he’s okay. He doesn’t deserve not to be. He couldn’t save them. It’s up to him to deal with the ghosts.

He woke before the sun, of whatever today’s planet was. He kept a low profile. He collected what he could.

He kept moving.

*******

oof I hurt myself with this one.

I love Rex. I write for him all the time. But when the prompt was "Captain Rex" I was like....uh....what do I do? (find the full list @clonetober - I can't believe it's been 20 days already.)

It took awhile, but this is what I came up with. What does our boy do after the end of the war?

(it'd be a humanitarian effort to a. give him a many hugs and b. teach him healthy coping strategies.)

Angstober Day 25

Mind-control / Brainwash

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Inheritance, a fic we have yet to release. ^-^

It’s probably been close to an hour by now though Anakin’s not exactly sure when he finally pulls himself up onto a higher platform of the building. Right up ahead, light glints off a familiar armored figure, who’s standing his back facing him.

“Rex?” Anakin calls cautiously, taking a step towards him.

Something about his presence just feels off. Almost… double maybe. And he can sense the Son right around here, but he doesn’t actually see him anywhere.

“Rex?” he calls again when the clone doesn’t respond, “Come on, let’s go.”

Finally, he slowly turns around. “We can’t,” he objects, “He’s right. Right about everything. You have to join him.”

That’s… totally unlike him. Both what he’s saying, and the way he’s saying it. What did the Son do to him? “Rex, what’s wrong?” Anakin asks warily.

“What’s wrong?” he repeats like that’s the stupidest question he’s ever heard, “What should I go back for? To fight in a war I have no say in? As a slave to the Jedi?” Anakin flinches back at the unexpected question. He’s not exactly wrong. That is all the clones are, slaves to the Jedi and the Republic. They have no say in any of it, and even if they didn’t want to fight, it wouldn’t matter. He tries to take care of his own clones as well as he can, but he knows other Jedi aren’t the same way.

But he needs to focus on the situation at hand right now, not… this. An issue that bothers him all the time even if he never talks about it to anyone. “This isn’t you, Rex. He did something to you.” That he knows for sure. Rex may have a point, but he would never say something like that in his right mind. It’s not the way he is. It’s like – like the Son is somehow controlling his mind, and Anakin clings to that hope, because he refuses to believe that the man who’s always had his back would turn on him like this.

“He did nothing to me,” the clone retorts, “He just asked me to give you a message.”

“What?” Anakin demands, cautious and suspicious.

“He said if you don’t join him, he will kill me.” What?! No, he’s never going to let that happen.

“I won’t let him!”

“Then you will do it yourself,” Rex snarls suddenly, whipping out his blasters and open firing. Only years of constant training allow him to react in time, diving out of the way as the shots tear into the ground around him. He hastily ignites his lightsaber, deflecting the shots away, trying to avoid sending any of them too close to Rex as he does so.

No, just no. He doesn’t want to fight him. He can’t fight him. He’s like – something almost like a brother. Anakin takes a few steps back as Rex keeps shooting at him, then jumps down from the ledge and continues advancing towards him. The only way he’ll be able to stop this is if he stops just defending himself and disarms Rex. Somehow, without hurting him.

“I don’t want to fight you, Rex,” he says, but the clone doesn’t even respond, just keeps firing.

Fine. He raises a hand, Force shoving Rex into the wall behind him and ripping away his blasters with the Force, him in place. The captain strains against the Force grip, but it doesn’t break. This doesn’t really solve the problem of how he’s going to free him from whatever the Son did to him.

He’s still pondering it when Obi-Wan runs into view, pulling out his lightsaber. “Any suggestions?”

“The Daughter said she might be able to do something to break the mind control, but she’s fighting the Son right now.”

Then what are they supposed to do?

For the bad things happen bingo, I Will Punish You For Your Friend's Failure, with Obi Wan and Rex during the Zygeria arc with Rex being punished by the slavers.

Oooooh, happy evil brain twinkles.

TW for blood, child death, and mildly graphic torture. No specifics because spoilers but do be cautious.

•••

There is an enemy, and it is within, the Jedi taught.

You will encounter foes of all forms in your years as a Jedi. There will be cruel tyrants and selfish politicians, ruthless criminals and violent terrorists. Possessive lovers, radical reformists, slavers and desperate people willing to do whatever it takes to achieve what matters to them. And then the next thing, and the next.

But these are not the enemy.

The Jedi have only two natural enemies.

The Sith have been extinguished from the galaxy, lost to ruin. What the Jedi did not destroy, the Sith themselves did, locked in the raw emotion of the Dark Side, turning on one another.

And the Jedi are left with the true enemy.

You are the enemy, the Masters warned. Your weaknesses are your real enemy.

All obstacles can be overcome as long as you master yourself.

Fear will lead you astray. Push through it.

Anger will corrupt you. Abandon it.

Envy will poison you. Purge it.

Grief will break you. Overcome it.

And if you fall, you will fall as yourself, at peace. A true Jedi perishes for the right reasons, where not even self-possession could stop the sheer numbers of the opposition.

The enemy is within.

•

Obi-Wan Kenobi took a deep, steadying breath. The enemy is within, he reminded himself. My fear is the enemy. These people cannot destroy me.

The broken wrist, clumsily bandaged and still forced to work, whispers that otherwise. The bruises along his spine groan in misery. There was a cut on his upper lip that had bled and dried in his beard and lips. Someone had driven the handle of a whip into the muscles of his left leg, and it could not bear his weight.

He opened his eyes just in time to receive a stunning blow across the face.

Despite the fancies of holodramas, a strike to the face is nothing to brush aside.

The Jedi reeled, his head exploding, his face stinging. White light erupted behind his eyes and his nose burned as if he’d dived too deep into water.

“Who is your Master?” a voice demanded.

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, gasping for air. His entire head throbbed; he was on his knees but his back had arched back so far his head was a foot from the floor. Wincing, he dragged himself back up and stared passively into the snarling Zyggerian’s eyes. “I am.”

A roar of discontent. “Wrong!”

The hand came back, but this time it closed around his throat.

•

Qui-Gon caught him by the shoulders, one hand moving upwards to press against the side of his Padawan’s neck.

“You are stronger than your fear,” he said. “Because your fear is only part of you. Your strengths outnumber your fear, Obi-Wan.”

Behind the boy’s young eyes, though - flashes of remembered horror, children dead in the streets of Melida/Daan and the screaming sound a blaster bolt made as it grazed close, so close, to his ear - and hit another boy instead —

Obi-Wan gasped as if drowning, his mind convinced that he was not getting enough oxygen.

Fear was going to kill him.

Fear was the enemy.

“Oh, Padawan,” sighed his Master. And then the hands left his neck and his shoulder, leaving Obi-Wan bereft, plunged into ice cold waters of terror and trauma, his failures haunting him like the ghost of Cerasi.

•

Obi-Wan choked, bucking involuntarily as the meaty hand clenched around his throat, crushing his air pipe.

He couldn’t breathe.

Still. What did it matter, if this monstrous slaver killed him in a fit of rage? Obi-Wan was more than this man and his pride, his greed, his disregard for life.

Obi-Wan was a Jedi.

His body’s automatic response to being abused and killed was nothing.

He was more than his fear.

“Damn Jedi!”

The hand released him, and the red-haired General slumped to the floor, unable to stop his forehead from colliding painfully with the uneven slag flooring. More blood. He tasted it in his mouth, he felt it dripping down his forehead.

“Very well,” the same voice continued. “The punishment must suit the prisoner, in some cases. How lucky of you. So special.”

They cannot hurt me, Obi-Wan reminded himself. My body is not my soul. I am more than my fear.

And then two more slavers entered the room at a summons, dragging a struggling figure between them.

Rex.

Obi-Wan’s fear spiked so sharply he felt his chest stab with physical pain.

No, he told himself. No. Fight it. Fight it—

The Zyggerian behind him sensed his rising emotion and grabbed him roughly, one hand on the thick collar around the Jedi’s throat, and the other dug painfully into his hair.

•

Obi-Wan shuddered.

A bomb - Twela, Bruin, Conno, Toorun, and others went flying, flailing helplessly in the air.

Toorun rolled on his side and got back up.

Conno collided with a vehicle and lay still.

Bruin landed on his feet and stood up, grinning in shocked relief, and then dropped with a bullet in his head. Blood spattered stone.

Twela landed on a pile of rubble.

When Obi-Wan found her, she had been lying there for an hour while the battle wore on, a rebar shoved through her stomach.

It took her two days to die—

Cerasi, falling into his arms. Gasping. Blood everywhere. Her father screaming. Blood on Obi-Wan’s hands—

Nield, his friend, telling him he didn’t belong - kicking him out of the camp to die alone - blaming Obi-Wan, rightfully, for the death of Cerasi and the peace she had helped create—

But as quickly as they had been taken away, the warm and solid hands of Qui-Gon Jinn were there again, this time on his back. Pulling him. Tightening around him.

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, gasping and shaking, pressed into a warm embrace while his Master rocked him gently, whispering encouragement into his hair.

It was good to be held.

•

Obi-Wan twisted, struggling in near-panic to get away from the arms restraining him.

“Stop it!” he yelled. “Stop!”

They did not stop.

The Zyggerians had been on Rex for over two hours, holding him down, methodically slicing the soles of his feet, throwing their fists into his abdomen and face and throat, slamming his head against the unforgiving ground.

The Captain was a mess; bruised and bloodied, involuntary tears making his damaged face glisten.

Rex had finally started to scream five minutes ago, and still they would not stop—

“Stop! You’ll kill him!” Obi-Wan shouted, his bound hands clenched so tightly that his palms were torn and bleeding. “Stop!”

“And now the bird sings,” the slave master crowed, laughing down at him. “So high and mighty, Jedi?”

“Leave him alone!” Obi-Wan demanded.

The slaver’s face darkened.

Two things happened at almost the same moment.

A knife was drawn from seemingly thin air and without hesitation or fanfare was plunged into Rex’s thigh; the Captain screamed again, writhing.

A button was pressed, and the collar around Obi-Wan’s neck blazed with electricity that made him convulse, blinded, agonized.

“You don’t give the orders here,” the master snarled. “Haven’t you learned? You’re not in control here!”

•

“You are in control, Padawan,” Qui-Gon murmured, rubbing his hand up and down the boy’s back, following the still too-prominent line of his spine. Up and down, up and down.

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan sobbed. “I’m a failure.”

“You haven’t failed until you’ve let yourself down and decided not to get up again,” his Master replied firmly. “You are master of yourself, Obi-Wan, and therefore master of the situation. You can rise above. Even if you need help to do it. You are not a slave to fear.”

•

“Slaves are not masters,” the Zyggerian bellowed, and Rex screamed again.

Obi-Wan shuddered and twitched on the floor; he felt filthy, ragged, used. Now useless.

“You don’t make the rules!” A kick to the abdomen that deprived him of air. Once again suffocating. Drowning.

All he could see was the bloodstained floor. All he could hear was the voice, and Rex screaming through gritted teeth.

“Every time you cross me, I’ll punish your freakish friend. And anyone else that crosses your path. I! Am! In! Control! Here!” Each of the final words was delivered with a sharp jerk on the chain that had been attached to the collar.

Obi-Wan choked and wheezed.

Pain.

Terror.

Helpless.

I can’t —

“Who is your Master?”

“You are,” Obi-Wan told Fear, eyes glazed, blood spattered across his vision. Maybe permanently. Like a brand. Like Cerasi’s lifeblood on his shaking hands.

“Who is your Master?” the slaver asked again.

Obi-Wan stared vacantly upwards.

Fear looked back at him. Outside him. Inside him. Triumphant.

“You are,” whispered the Jedi, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

He slumped to the floor.

Rex’s screams faded as the punishment abruptly ceased; the Clone lay on the stone floor, limp and in terrible pain, staring with abject fear in his eyes at the fallen Jedi.

His utter relief that the pain was over, that they had taken their hideous hands off of him, was warring with his worry.

And his growing terror.

If even General Kenobi could be controlled...

“A good start,” the slave master said thoughtfully, trodding deliberately on Obi-Wan’s damaged foot. “And I was told Jedi did not feel fear.”

•••

Found a thing I wrote a while back with the concept of Cody taking Waxer's spot on umbara...... should I post it on here 👀

Curses, Cocoons and Clones: part 5

When everyone woke up they starting to process of packing and heading to the ship so they can leave this god forsaken planet.

Poor Rex and Fives ended up in the pockets of Cody after a long argument of how to transport them. Rex was grateful that they were in separate pockets. The jostling bumped caused him to hit his antenna which sent bursts of nausea and pain through his head.

The mud leftover from the rain wasn’t helpful to their travel. Many of the men slipped, much to their dismay. Ahsoka got one of her boots suck and had to walk the rest of the way with her boot filled with mud.

When they got to the city everyone was tired and hungry. The ship was in the heart of the city. The smell of food that floated in the air made Fives’s mouth water. In vaguely Fives could hear someone mentioned getting food for the rest of them and he agreed.

He was hungry, tired and sore. It was getting to the point the cotton that was left in Cody’s pocket for lighting fires was looking appetizing.

Fives reached out and picked a piece of the cotton. He was so hungry-

Rex finally noticed on what he was doing “Wh- Fives what are-“

Too late, he had eaten half the cotton piece that was in the pocket. Which is seriously impressive since it was bigger then his current size.

“Did-did you just eat half of the cotton”

“….no….”

“I’m calling Kix.”

Several hours later after checking Fives for potential food poisoning. Kix concluded that their diet had changed in the process of transforming and allowed him to finish eating some of the cotton with some moderation. The rest of the crew went to get some clean up. General Kenobi went to get some local food for the rest of them. Rex refused to try to eat the cotton and waited for the food to arrive despite the rumbling that Fives could hear.

The food, when the general came back was flavorful and full of spices. Fives even with the food he already ate chowed down. Rex ate even more with the rice and mild sauce being his favorite. Anakin folded up some bread and put some meat and rice just for them. Kix was careful to see what they had in case it upset their bodies just in case.

When the meal was almost finished, Kix and Jessie bickered over who gets the last piece of flatbread. Fives didn’t have the heart to tell them that Cody and Ahsoka was enjoying it watching them fight.

Fives and Rex where sitting on the edge of the table quietly watching the others. The size difference was….unnerving. Fives hoped that a night’s sleep would help before his emotions start get the better of him.

…………….

Hello!

Uhhhhhh happy mermay? I started this part along with Maelstrom last week cause I forgot it was going to be mermay on the day I planned to post. So I had more done with this rather then Maelstrom for mermay…. So here’s moth au instead!

“I’m not technically on leave.” Rex says, shifting uncontrollably on his feet, “Im just waiting for Anakin to return from his meeting with the Chancellor.”

“You totally have time to hang out with us then!” Cordé replies excitedly, and something about her brilliant smile makes him slightly nervous.

“Well-“ Rex begins, but Sabé cuts him off.

“Oh come on, live a little,” Sabé says, pushing his shoulder, “A little rebellion is good for you, healthy even.” Her tone is sincere, but there’s a wicked grin across her face and a glint in her eyes.

“Fine.” Rex caves, “but if General Skywalker comms me, we leave right away.”

“How about right away-ish?”

-The Right Hands of Amidala, a sequel to Right Hand of the Republic

I’m finally working on this again bc I’ve got too many good Rex jokes and I’m giving them to Sabé-

Angstober Day 21

Can’t Save Everyone

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Sea Shadow

He exchanges a look with an equally desperate, confused looking Ahsoka. It’s reminding him so much of Mortis suddenly, of when the Son was controlling her and she attacked him. He doesn’t want to have to face that from Rex too, only months later. Everything that happened there still haunts him sometimes.

“Rex, it’s doing something to you,” he says, “Remember what I said about it influencing minds?”

Rex blinks, staring at him. “Yes. But it’s not here. This is…”

One of the Gungans yowls and jumps at them, half-blindly. It hits Ahsoka, and they tumble to the ground, rolling through the grass.

Why is he attacking her?

What’s happening to them? It’s like they’re all being mind-controlled, and he doesn’t know what to do, to stop it. Probably, they have to kill that thing.

Anakin yanks the Gungan off her with the Force, sprinting over to position himself between them and her. They’ll never be able to take everyone with them, either way. They’ll have to take Rex now, and come back for the others, as much as he doesn’t want to leave anyone else behind. There’s no choice. That doesn’t make him loath it any less, how it feels like he’s abandoning all the rest to their fates.

“Rex come, we need to go,” Anakin urges. Distantly, he can hear loud splashing. This is bad. The creature must be coming. “We have to leave now.”

“I can’t do that, sir,” he objects, though he takes a few steps closer.

They don’t have time to wait. If they don’t get out now, they won’t. And he doesn’t want to get Rex to the ship like this, but there’s no other choice. He picks him up with the Force, pulling him closer, setting him down lightly in the back, before he and Ahsoka Force-jump after – She obviously picked up on the same level of urgency.

The Gungans are snarling in noises Gungans shouldn’t even be able to make, starting towards them.

The Truth Lies (In An Unmarked Grave)

On some days, Rex is certain the grief is going to kill him. There's only so much a person can take, and he reached that limit long ago-- reached it, then vaulted straight past it. Echo is alive, and that's fantastic, but... Fives isn't, and he's only the most recent on the long list of people Rex has failed to save. On some days, Rex is convinced that he's just walking wounded, that it's only a matter of time before his injuries catch up to him and put him in the ground.

That's... not what happens. Instead, Rex wakes up with Fives, and General Skywalker years in the past, back before Fives' death, before the Citadel, with their memories of the future intact. Instead, Rex finds himself caught between a rock and a hard place as he tries to save his family, with the constant threat of the Chancellor hanging over his shoulder.

(Ao3 Link)

Chapter 1

After working with The Bad Batch– after finding Echo and losing him again, after punching Crosshair and forcing himself to work with him anyway– Rex finds himself sitting on a log, staring at the bonfire in front of him.

The roaring fire illuminates the darkness of the night sky, and Rex can feel the heat from it on his face, warming up his knees. Despite that, his fingers feel cold around his beer bottle as he stares down the flames, a shade short of tipsy, not quite tipsy enough.

[[MORE]]

He feels… almost isolated, with the way the sky stretches out above him, vast and endless, twinkling stars bright against the darkness of the night. But he’s not alone– far from it, in fact– Jesse’s sitting on his right, and Kix is on Jesse’s right, and Ridge on Kix’s right, and Sterling on Ridge’s right, which brings him all around to being on Rex’s left.

They’re a lively bunch. It’s not quiet around the campfire– far from it, in fact. If Rex felt a little less detached, he knows he’d be right there with them, laughing and joking. But the events of the last few days, months, years, weigh on him, and it’s easier to let himself be mesmerized by the crackling flames than putting in the effort to be engrossed in conversation.

Jesse, however, is not one to be upstaged by a firepit. He leans forward, grins, waves his hand in front of Rex’s face. “Hey Cap,” he says, ignoring Kix’s facepalm. “How do you know if there’s a member of the Bad Batch at your party?”

Rex sighs, looks up at the sky. Prays for some sort of divine intervention.

No divine intervention arrives. Rex sighs, loudly. “How, Jesse?” he asks, half certain he already knows the answer.

“”They’ll tell you,” Jesse replies, and despite the fact that Rex had been expecting that exact answer, he still finds himself snorting at the accuracy of it. “Hey, how would the Bad Batch kill a space snake?”

Rex sighs again, louder this time. He definitely knows where this one is going. “How?”

“They make contact with it, ignore all Judicial Department directives and build a rapport with the snake, train it to kill other snakes, then return to Kamino to file a requisition of GAR resources form and take in the snake.”

Rex… shouldn’t ask. They’re all feeling weird after their last mission, every single Forcedamned clone is a raw nerve at the moment. He really shouldn’t ask.

Kriff it. He might as well ask. “Is the snake in this metaphor meant to be Echo?”

“Of course not sir, Echo was– is about as sneaky as a reg manual to the face.”

“Big words coming from you,” Kix chimes in, taking advantage of Jesse’s temporary distraction to steal his beer and finish it off.

“Kix, I’ll let you know that I’m an ARC trooper, actually,” Jesse defends. “I absolutely know how to be sneaky.”

“Well, since you’re a high and mighty ARC trooper, I guess that means that you’d just kill our metaphorical space snake by accident, and it would turn out that this metaphorical snake was sacred to the people there, and the natborns would then demand the removal of Republic forces from the planet.”

Rex chokes on his beer, coughs as Jesse sputters. Kriffing hell, someone decided to go for the throat today. “Oh, kark off,” is what Jesse eventually says in response, and Kix shrugs, looking all too smug with Jesse’s bottle in his hand.

After he finishes restoring the air to his lungs, Rex finds himself looking down at his hands, letting the conversation fade to a dull roar in the background. He looks down at his right hand, forms a fist with it, frowns. Unrolls his fingers one by one, flexes them once, then twice, then three times. The memory of punching Crosshair is all too present in his mind, as is the memory of liking it. Of wanting to do it again.

For all that he knows that he was made for killing, Rex has never thought of himself as an inherently violent person. But right now, there’s a part of him saying otherwise, a part of him that’s determinedly whispering what might even be the truth in the back of his mind.

He’s realized recently that he’s changing. And it’s because of the war, yes, but it’s also because of other things, and that… worries him. Scares him, almost, though he’ll never admit it out loud. Rex is a clone. He’s not made for change– the opposite, really. He’s been designed not to evolve past his programming.

But Crosshair had said that they should’ve left Echo behind, and Rex had seen red. For a second, all he’d been able to think about was Fives’ anguish at the Citadel, Fives’ grief in the aftermath, Fives’ rapidly cooling body in his arms, and–

Yeah, Rex had punched him. The shabuir had deserved it– deserved worse, an insidious voice inside him whispers.

(Rex at the beginning of the war never would’ve done that. Rex doesn’t know if his past self would even recognize the man he’s become now.)

Anyway, General Skywalker may not have liked that punch, but Kix and Jesse were on his side, and that was good enough for Rex. It had to be.

He glances down at his fist once more, sighs, and picks up his beer again, finishing it off. He probably should get started on those reports and finish filling out Echo’s transfer forms, so Rex opens his mouth to excuse himself when General Skywalker comes out of his tent, holding something strange and triangular, something that’s glowing red, and suddenly–

The world tips sideways.

Dimly, Rex hears alarmed shouts of his own name, feels the beer bottle slip from his hands, but all he can focus on is the nauseating roil of his own stomach, and the way that General Skywalker seems to have lost his balance too, and is clinging to a tree for support. Rex blinks, tries to focus, tries to marshal his thoughts into something coherent, then–

Nothing.