Mmmm Hunter….. @faithwalkcreationscloneart ALWAYS Captures The Moment With Her Fantastic Pieces. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️❤️

Wrecker ended up capsizing his floatie. “Why is there always a big monster?!” Echo learned the hard way that you can’t use a kama as a flotation device. Omega happy to spend time with her bros.

#tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb omega

Wrecker has many layers.

Wrecker is a structural engineer.

He can look at a building floor plan or stand in the lobby and say something like, “Yeah this used cross-joists, you can tell by the way the elevator supports meet the load bearing walls.”

He gets into arguments with Tech on missions because Tech memorizes the blueprints but Wrecker knows those are more like a guideline. “Which blueprints, Tech? The design schematics or the as-builts because we both know they’re not the same. And this wall,” He smashes through it, “is not load bearing because the foundation was made with heavy reinforced permacrete instead of standard.”

He may also have done chemical engineering to help build and disarm improvised explosive devices.

This is all so he can look at a separatist factory, spaceship or tank and say, “No the engineering section will be over here because if they put it over there they’d have to run the waste heat from the reactor through the life support compartments and that would make the methane scrubbers impossible to balance.”

And he’ll ask Tech what the tensile strength of a three centimeter braided carbon nanotube cable is so he can calculate how much explosive to use on the cable’s anchor point but when they get there he’ll say, “I won’t need as much because I can already see stress cracks around the bolts.”

Fantastic story! Excitedly waiting for more!! Fives flirting, not hitting his mark. The 501st. Anidala. The intrigue is building. 😍

Good Graces

Chapter Three

Tags/Warnings: graphic (and casual) depiction of violence, wounds, death, etc.

Chapter WC: 4,449

A/N: Okay so this is going to be longer than I thought. Definitely less than 20 chapters, but probably more than 10, by virtue of me trying to keep these all under 10k each.

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Esmé takes the lead as soon as they step out onto the street. She moves quickly, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. She doesn't so much as slow down, even when a couple bumps into her, muttering something under their breath. Fives has to jog to catch up with her, his steps a little clumsy in his haste, his arms swinging by his sides. She doesn't look back. She just keeps moving.

She's not okay. She's trying to hide it, but she's not. He can see it in the way her shoulders are pulled tight, her back ramrod straight. Her breathing is too fast, and her hands are shaking, her knuckles white. She's on edge, and it's more than just a brush with a bounty hunter. She's seen them before, that much is clear, and this isn't her first time having to deal with one.

Ahead, the crowds begin to thin, the streets emptying as they move farther away from the marketplace. It's quieter, the noise of the festival muffled by the tall buildings, and the air is crisp, a gentle breeze blowing through. It's not exactly a short walk, but Esmé makes quick work of it, her strides long and sure with the confidence of someone who's walked the same path a hundred times.

She doesn't speak, and Fives doesn't ask. He's not sure he wants to know the answer.

He's not really sure what happened. One minute, they were fine, and the next...well. He's not sure.

There had been a moment when they were in the alley. He'd grabbed her and covered her with his body. And maybe he should've said something, explained what he was doing, but he hadn't. Instead, he'd just stood there, and she hadn't protested.

He can still feel the warmth of her, the way her hair had tickled his face, her breath against his neck. Her skin had been soft beneath his fingertips, and she'd smelled sweet, like some kind of flower. She hadn't moved away. Hadn't tried to push him off. In fact, he'd swear that she'd leaned into him. Just a bit. Just for a second.

And then, in the blink of an eye, she was a million lightyears away. She'd practically sprinted out of the alley and onto the street, leaving him to follow. It had happened so fast, so suddenly, that he's still trying to wrap his head around it.

Had he done something wrong? Said something wrong? He knows he has a habit of pissing people off, especially when he's nervous, but she'd been smiling. Maybe he was just seeing things, hoping for something that wasn't there, and the fact that he's already starting to spiral is a sign that he's screwed this up beyond repair.

He's not going to give up. He can't. There's something between them. He can feel it. He just has to figure out how to bring her walls down.

“Bounty hunters are like sand fleas," Fives speaks up, trying for a joke. Anything to break the tension, anything to distract her. "Once you get one, you just end up with a hundred more. They're annoying like that."

Esmé doesn't laugh. She doesn't even crack a smile. She just keeps walking, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her.

Alright, that was a bust. He clears his throat and tries again.

"So, you...uh...you've got experience with bounty hunters, I take it?"

"What gave it away?" she asks, her voice dry and her lips pursed.

Okay. He deserved that. He can't help the snort that escapes him.

"Yeah, fair enough," he concedes with a shrug. He scratches the back of his head, his gaze flicking towards her and then away. "Do they...do they come after you guys a lot?"

"Sometimes."

"Is it always bounty hunters, or do you get a little bit of everything?" he asks. She doesn't reply, and he's not sure she's going to. He doesn't want her to shut down, not again. He sighs and tries a different approach. "I heard you got attacked a while back. A bunch of droids, or something, right? Was that... Was that your first time?"

Esmé stops suddenly, and Fives almost runs into her. They're not far from the Senator's apartments, only a block or two away, but he's grateful for the reprieve. His arm is aching, the bag of groceries hanging heavily from his hand, and his legs are burning from his attempts to keep up with her.

"No," Esmé says, her voice low. She looks up at him and purses her lips. "No, that wasn't the first time."

"Oh." 

That's all he can think to say. Oh. It doesn't really feel adequate, doesn't really capture the full depth of his surprise and confusion and...and anger.

Anger, because he knows that this can't be normal, and the fact that she's clearly had to do this more than once means that there's a problem. It means that the Senate, the GAR, everyone, has failed.

Failed her.

He's not sure why, but that bothers him. Maybe it's the fact that he and his brothers are supposed to be part of the solution, part of the solution to all the problems in the galaxy, and yet he's standing here, talking to a woman who has clearly been attacked more times than she's willing to admit, and who doesn't even seem surprised by it. Or maybe it's just because he likes her, and the thought of someone trying to hurt her makes him feel sick.

Fives doesn't like it. He doesn't like any of it.

They stand in silence for a few moments, their eyes locked, and then Esmé turns away, her gaze flitting over the nearby rooftops. She's looking for the hunter, or at least he assumes she is. Her hand is resting on her blaster, her fingers tracing the handle, and she's chewing on the inside of her cheek, her brow furrowed.

"You're right," she mutters as she starts walking again.

Fives hurries to catch up, his boots loud against the paved stone. He looks at her, confused, and raises a brow. "About what?"

"About bounty hunters." Her eyes meet his for a moment, and her lips press together. "Where there's one, there's another. We should hurry."

He doesn't need to be told twice. They fall into step with each other, and she leads the way, her stride steady and her back straight. Fives keeps pace, his gaze sweeping the nearby rooftops, his stomach churning.

He should have been faster, should have acted sooner, should have known. He should have seen the threat coming, should have had a better response, and should have had a better plan. He shouldn't have been so distracted by her, and he shouldn't have let himself get caught off guard. He should have been better.

He'll have to be better.

“Captain,” Fives speaks into his comm, his voice quiet. "I think we might have a problem."

There’s no response, and he frowns. He taps his vambrace.

"Rex?"

Silence.

His gut twists, and his steps falter. He stops, his hand reaching for his blaster, his gaze searching the rooftops above him. The sun is starting to dip below the horizon, the shadows lengthening and the sky growing dark. There are windows everywhere, and the balconies are crammed with potted plants, the railings lined with colorful fabric and the windowsills decorated with small statues and lanterns. It would be easy to hide, even in plain sight.

Esmé pauses, her attention on him, her expression expectant. He shakes his head.

"It's probably nothing," he says, trying to sound casual. "Probably just a faulty connection. I'll try again—"

"Don't," she cuts him off, her voice hard. "If they're jamming communications, then we don't want them to know we're onto them."

"But the others," Fives begins as he gestures helplessly, his hand waving in the air. "If they don't know, then—"

"We're not far," she assures him. There's a hint of compassion in her voice. It's not much, just a slight softening of the edges, but it's enough to show that she does care. More than she lets on. "Just a few minutes. We can handle a few minutes."

"Yeah," he agrees. He takes a deep breath, his shoulders squaring. "You're right. We've got this."

Esmé nods.

"Good," she says. "Let's go."

They move quickly, their steps echoing down the narrow alleyways, the music and chatter of the festival fading the farther they go. They reach the building where Senator Amidala is staying within minutes, and Fives feels himself relax when he sees the troopers are still posted outside. Esmé doesn't slow. She walks right past them, her hand on her blaster, and heads straight for the door.

The men look startled, and then confused, their helmets moving from Esmé to Fives, and then to each other. Esmé strides through the lobby and disappears into the turbolift, her finger jabbing the button, and Fives has to run to catch up with her before the lift doors close on him.

"Don't let anyone else in," he calls over his shoulder as the doors slide shut, and then the lift is moving, the numbers climbing higher and higher.

Fives shifts his weight from foot to foot, his grip on the bag tight. He can see their distorted reflection on the metal surface, the bags beneath his eyes and the tense line of his shoulders. His helmet is still sitting on the coffee table, and it feels like a mistake. He should have kept it on. Should have been ready for a fight.

They're nearly at the top when a burst of muffled blasterfire reaches their ears, the sound coming from the floor above. They freeze as their gazes meet in the reflection. The distorted version of Esmé nods once, and he does the same. She draws her blaster, her fingers curling around the handle, and her thumb flicks the safety off.

The turbolift slows to a stop, and the doors open with a soft chime.

The scene in front of them is chaos.

Bodies litter the hallway, the floor and walls littered with holes and scorch marks, the plaster cracked and the tile broken. The door to the Senator's apartment hisses as it opens and closes repeatedly, stuck on the security droid lying deactivated in the entrance. Two RNSF soldiers are sprawled in the middle of the hallway, blood pooling beneath them, their eyes glassy and their bodies limp. 

Esmé lets out a breath, taking a step forward, and Fives reacts without thinking. He grabs her and shoves her back into the turbolift, and her back hits the wall with a thud. Her eyes go wide, her mouth dropping open as a gasp escapes her.

"Stay here," he orders. His hands are on her shoulders, holding her in place. "Wait for the Captain."

A furious look washes over her, and Esmé's nostrils flare. "You can't—"

"Stay. Here," he repeats, dropping the bag of groceries beside her. He pulls his pistols from their holsters, his grip tight and his jaw clenched. "Do not leave this turbolift."

Fives doesn't give her a chance to argue. He steps into the hallway and hits the control panel, and the doors closes on her protests, her face vanishing from view. The sound of a fist banging on the door is the last thing he hears before the lift starts moving.

He can't wait. He has to act, now, before the situation gets any worse. He takes a deep breath, his gaze flitting between the fallen men, and then he rushes forward, his strides long and his blasters raised. 

His mind is racing, a million thoughts flitting through his head at once. Where are the others? Who is attacking the Senator's security detail? Are they even still alive? Who else has the clearance to access the floor?

He should have done a perimeter sweep. He should have checked the rooftops. He should have made sure the area was clear. He shouldn't have let his guard down. He shouldn't have left his squad. He should have—

Fives pushes the door open and stumbles to a stop, his body slamming into the door frame.

The room is a mess. Blasterfire has ripped through the walls, the plaster shredded, chunks of rock and wood scattered across the floor. Furniture is broken, the sofa torn and the cushions ripped, and a painting lies crooked on the wall, a hole punched through the canvas.

Kix is kneeling on the ground, hovering over Tup, whose hand is pressed to his chest, his armor stained red. Jesse and Rex are crouched behind a pile of upturned furniture, their bodies angled towards the staircase. A man dressed in black lies on the ground, his limbs akimbo, his body still.

The Senator and General Skywalker are nowhere to be seen.

Jesse notices him first. His head turns towards Fives, and he holds a finger to the mouth of his helmet.

Fives nods and creeps inside, his back brushing against the wall, and he keeps his blasters trained on the stairs. There's no movement, and no noise except for the sound of Kix working, his hands quick and his movements practiced.

Fives edges closer, his steps careful, and he ducks behind the pile of furniture.

"What's the situation?" he whispers.

"Bounty hunter," Rex answers. He sounds tired, his voice rough, and his body is slumped against the couch. "He had some kind of disruptor on him. Jammed our comms."

"Is he alone?"

"He is now." Rex nods toward the body. "Tup got him. Barely."

Fives risks a glance over at Kix, who's applying bacta to Tup's chest. Tup's breathing is labored, his face pale, but his eyes are open. He gives Fives a weak smile, his hand raising in a small wave, and Fives waves back.

He takes a breath and turns his attention back to the staircase.

"Senator and General?" he asks.

"General's guarding the Senator. She took a shot to the shoulder. They're barricaded in her room." 

Fives feels a wave of guilt wash over him. He should have been here. Should have helped. Instead, he was off, flirting with a pretty girl and buying groceries, and his brothers were stuck fighting a battle without him.

He should have known.

"Where's your handmaiden?" Jesse asks. "She alright?"

"In the lift," he replies. "I told her to stay put. Figured she was safer there than out here."

"And you think she's gonna listen to you?"

"No," he admits, his lips twisting into a wry smile. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Probably not."

Jesse lets out a huff of amusement, and he leans forward, his gaze fixed on the staircase. There's a long, jagged crack running up the wall, the paint peeling away. There's blood on the railing, and more splattered against the wall. Someone had been hit. Fives hopes it wasn't the Senator.

Fives scans the area, his gaze flickering from one corner to the next. He doesn't see any traps, any signs of hidden enemies, or anything else that might indicate a potential threat. The apartment is silent, and it's almost unnerving, the lack of noise making his skin crawl.

A second later, the warble of a lightsaber and the sound of pounding feet reaches their ears. Someone is running towards them, fast and hard, and the other troopers are on their feet before Fives can react, their weapons raised. They're all aiming at the stairs, their stances wide, their shoulders tense and their fingers ready. 

The footsteps come closer, and then the figure appears, leaping down the stairs two at a time, their head down and their arms pumping. They're wearing a heavy cloak and a hood, a long scarf wrapped around their neck, and Fives only has a moment to register the familiarity of it all before the figure is sprinting past, and then diving for the window.

Fives propels himself forward, intercepting them, his arms wrapping around their waist, and he slams them both into the floor, his shoulder colliding with the ground. The impact knocks the air from his lungs, and he groans as an elbow cracks into his nose, his grip releasing on instinct.

The bounty hunter gets to their feet and dodges the blaster bolts Rex and Jesse fire at them. They reach the window and pull the curtains aside, their hands reaching for the latch, and they throw the window open. A gust of wind sweeps through the room, blowing the curtains wide and knocking a potted plant onto its side.

A single, precise shot rings out, and the bounty hunter's body jerks.

Their knees buckle, legs folding under them, and they crumple to the ground. The window slams shut, and the curtains fall back into place. Fives looks from the dead body to the window, and then to the source of the shot.

He hadn't even heard Esmé approach, hadn't heard her enter the room, but there she is, standing in the doorway, her blaster still raised, the bag of groceries hanging over her arm. She lets out a sigh and holsters her weapon.

She killed him.

Just like that. In a single shot, without so much as a second glance, and Fives... he's not sure what to do with that. It's one thing for a clone or a Jedi to kill a person, but for a civilian, a handmaiden, to do it? Without a hint of hesitation or remorse? He's not sure he's ever seen something like that before.

Rex lowers his blasters, and the others do the same. They look at her, and then each other, and then back at her. No one says a word.

Fives swallows and slowly pushes himself to his feet, his palms pressing into the carpet, his eyes still fixed on Esmé. She's looking down at the body with barely a hint of emotion, her mouth twisted in distaste. She seems more annoyed than anything.

"I told you to stay put," Fives tells her, touching his nose gingerly. It's not what he wants to say. There are a thousand other things he should be saying, should be asking, but that's what comes out. "Couldn't listen for five minutes, could you?"

Esmé ignores him as she takes a tentative step inside. Her eyes land on Tup, and her brows draw together.

"Are you alright?" she asks softly.

Tup's head is propped up against the wall, his helmet discarded on the floor, his hand pressed to his chest. He tries to sit up, but Kix pushes him back, and Tup winces, his teeth bared.

"I'm fine, ma'am," he says, his voice hoarse. He manages a grin, his cheeks flushed. "Just a scratch."

General Skywalker appears at the top of the stairs, his expression stormy and his robes rumpled, his hair a mess and lightsaber held tightly in his hands. The tension drains from his shoulders when his gaze lands on them. He glances at the body and then at Esmé, and his brows raise.

"Nice work, Es," he says with a sigh, and he deactivates his lightsaber, clipping it to his belt. "How many was that, now?"

Esmé's lip curls.

"Eight," she answers flatly. She's still focused on Tup, her eyes moving over his body, cataloguing the damage. "You should have had a better security detail, Anakin."

"Oh, yeah? I'll keep that in mind next time," the General scoffs.

"Do that."

Fives looks between them, his eyes darting from General Skywalker to Esmé and back again. The Senator comes around the corner a few seconds later, moving slowly. She's holding a hand over her shoulder, the other wrapped around her torso, and she's pale, her face pinched and her robes torn. She takes a step forward toward the stairs, but she stumbles, and General Skywalker is there in an instant, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her upright.

The calm expression on Esmé's face fades, and for the first time since the attack began, Fives sees fear flicker across her features. The bag of groceries falls from her hands, hitting the floor with a loud thump, and she starts forward across the room and up the stairs.

Fives watches her go, his chest tight.

The others are talking, but he doesn't hear them. He's watching Esmé, watching the way her face softens as she helps the Senator, her arm wrapping around her back and her hand coming to rest on her hip, supporting her weight. She's murmuring something, too quiet for him to hear, and the Senator's head drops onto her shoulder, her eyes falling closed.

It doesn't make sense.

Nothing about her makes sense.

She's a handmaiden, a servant. She's a civilian. She shouldn't know how to shoot, shouldn't be able to defend herself, and she definitely shouldn't be able to take out a bounty hunter like it's nothing. She shouldn't be so good at it. And yet... she is.

The Senator is leaning against Esmé, her hand gripping the back of her tunic, her body curled into her side. Esmé doesn't seem to notice the weight, her focus fixed on the Senator, her voice soft and soothing.

Something about the scene is unsettling. She should be frightened, should be afraid. She should be shaking, or crying, or something. Instead, she's standing there, her hand rubbing slow circles on the Senator's back, her chin resting atop her head, and her eyes are hard.

The General says something, and then he and the Senator disappear back around the corner. Esmé follows, her hand resting lightly on the Senator's arm, and Kix is on his feet, rushing after them, the medkit in his hands.

Fives should follow. He should make sure the Senator is okay. He should check on the rest of the men, and make sure the building is clear, and call for a clean-up crew, and find out how the hell a bounty hunter was able to get past them all and into the Senator's apartments.

But he can't seem to make his feet move.

He's frozen. His whole body feels like lead, his hands shaking and his heart pounding. He can't seem to shake the visual of Esmé, her face twisted with determination, her aim true, and her eyes hard.

Eight.

The number rings in his head, repeating over and over. Eight. Eight bounty hunters she's killed. Eight attempts on the Senator's life, and each time, Esmé has been the one to stop them. It should be impossible. It should be a fluke. But the General had said eight like it was nothing, and Esmé hadn't denied it. 

And then, in the space of a single, heart-stopping moment, Fives understands.

It's like everything is falling into place, and the puzzle is finally complete, the picture coming together. She's not just a handmaiden. She's not just a civilian. She's not even a soldier.

She's a trained killer, and a damn good one.

"So," Jesse starts, his voice cutting through the silence, his helmet tilted in Fives' direction. He has his arms hooked underneath one of the bounty hunter's, and he's dragging them out onto the balcony. "You going to tell us what happened with her, or...?"

"Or what?"

"Or I'm gonna start guessing," he replies, his voice teasing. He sounds completely unfazed by what just happened, like taking out a bounty hunter is an everyday occurrence, which, considering who they are, it kind of is. "I mean, I've got a lot of ideas. And none of them are very nice."

"Well," Rex chimes in as he moves to help lift the dead weight, "he did spend the evening with a pretty girl. We all know how those usually go."

Fives rolls his eyes, and he can't help the chuckle that escapes him.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up," he mutters. He crosses the room and bends down, grabbing the abandoned bag of groceries and scooping the fruit that had spilled out back into the bag. "You got me. I spent my evening trying to flirt with a pretty girl, and it went so well she shot someone in the head."

Rex snorts, and Jesse lets out a loud bark of laughter. Tup just grins, his lips stretched into a wide, teasing smile.

"You were gone for a long time," he points out, his eyes dancing with amusement. "What took you so long?"

"I had a lot of flirting to do," Fives retorts, and the men laugh again. He smirks, straightening. "A lot of groceries to buy. Besides, you can't rush these things. You gotta go at the lady's pace. Right, Captain?"

Rex holds his hands up in surrender as he drops the bounty hunter's body beside the railing.

"Don't drag me into this," he warns, shaking his head. "I've got enough problems as it is."

"Ah, come on, Rex. You and General Anathorn are adorable," Jesse teases, and Rex shoots him a dark look. "Maybe you can give Fives some advice."

"Yeah, Rex. Advice."

"You know, I think you boys have got this handled," Rex says dryly. He heads for the stairs, his steps brisk. "I'm going to go see if General Skywalker needs help."

The men chuckle and wave him off.

Fives watches him go, and then turns back to his brothers, his gaze scanning the apartment. The windows are cracked, and the plaster is ruined, but the furniture is still in one piece, and the walls are mostly intact. They're lucky the place is still standing, and that no one was seriously hurt. It could have been a lot worse.

The Senator is alive, and so are the rest of them. And maybe his ego is a little bruised, but he'll survive. At least Esmé had shot the bounty hunter, and not him. Small mercies.

It's going to take a while to figure her out. And honestly, it probably won't be worth the effort. There are a million beautiful women in the galaxy, and there's no reason why he should get hung up on this one.

There's no reason at all.

Fives sighs and shakes his head.

"Yeah, well," he begins. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and looks over his shoulder towards the balcony. "I don't think there's gonna be a second date."

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @etod @puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @notslaybabes @ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @heavenseed76 @bunny7567 @lostqueenofegypt @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @maniacalbooper @burningnerdchild @julli-bee @moonychicky @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @cw80831 @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino @silly-starfish @floofyroro @veralii

Three of the finest.

#tcw #arc trooper echo #clone medic kix #clone captain Rex

⸻ Kix, Echo and Rex

The Match from Another Batch:

It’s so funny how in The Bad Batch 3.01 “Confined,” Crosshair and Batcher are parallel characters:

• Omega visits both of them regularly. While they are confined, she has some amount of freedom within Tantiss.

• Both are initially closed off/withdrawn and antagonistic toward her.

• But, through continual positive interactions with Omega, they grow attached to her. (You could say she domesticated *both of them* … as others joked about here! 😂)

• Both of them are hurt — Batcher, physically and Crosshair, emotionally/physically — and Omega helps them both to heal.

• Both of their lives are threatened because of Omega’s actions. Batcher is slated for termination after Omega domesticates her; and Hemlock threatens to kill Crosshair if Omega’s misbehavior continues.

• Omega eventually frees both of them, and they both prove crucial in their collective escape in Episode 3.03. (Note: all three of them escape Tantiss the same way — via Batcher’s kennel chute.)

• Both Batcher and Crosshair are always ready to Square Up ™️ anytime someone threatens Omega.

• “S/he deserves a chance.”

• Hemlock only ever uses their designations — CT-9904 and LH-201. Omega only ever uses their names.

• The irony of Hemlock saying “actions always have consequences — sometimes not in the ways we imagine”… He literally arms Omega with two individuals who help in her first escape, and pairs her with Emerie who helps with the second escape. And later, Crosshair and Omega team up with Hunter to kill Hemlock. None of this would’ve happened if Hemlock had supervised Omega more closely, or not given her as many freedoms during her initial stay.

• Same thing with “Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that” … considering it’s the Bad Batch’s love for each other that causes Hemlock’s downfall.

• Omega refuses point blank to leave either of them behind throughout S3. “I wasn’t going to leave without you.” / “I’m not abandoning her.”

• Also, Batcher and Crosshair save Hunter together in 3.05. 😂

• Batcher almost exclusively follows Crosshair in 3.05. But, after he reconciles with Hunter and Wrecker in that episode, Batcher seems more comfortable hanging out with Hunter and Wrecker too. Like, she fully integrates into the family when Crosshair does.

There are probably others, but that’s all I got for now. 😅

Echo’s first hugs with his Bad Batch bros. I can’t even….!

#sweet and touching and awkward and smirky #echo my love

A Quick Cuddle - Part 1 - Wrecker

Hi all! Since I really needed some comfort (and it seems like many others need it right now too) this will be my first post for Echo-vember. I've decided to post one Echo-focused fic each week of November revolving around the first time Echo hugs each of the batch. If you want to be tagged when I post these fics let me know <3

Thank you @renton6echo for coming up with the concept of Echo-vember. I'm excited for it <3

Ao3 Link

Part 2 - Tech - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Part 3 - Hunter - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Part 4 - Crosshair - Tumblr Link & Ao3 Link

Summary: The first time Echo hugs Wrecker

Word Count: 1,021

Their mission had gone off without a hitch. It was the first of many, Echo hoped, as they boarded the Marauder to embark on whatever was next for the group. He could barely keep up with how fast everything was moving. One mission after another, no planet longer than a few days, so much to learn he was racing just not to fall behind. Rest days were far and few between. He slept even less with Clones Force 99 than he did when he was a 501st ARC. Even when he did it was always surrounded by people just as he liked it, constantly listening to the sounds of snores and chatter and even breathing. That was okay with Echo. He didn’t have too much time to think in between rushing into battle and his new squad was about as chaotic as he expected. They were nearly yelling over each other in the excited rush that followed their mission. It was swift, simple, but they’d run into the need for an explosion and that got all of their blood pumping. Who would’ve thought, the squad of excitable commandos liked when things went boom. He was busy smiling at them, ignoring the need to make a plan, set a path, move on, while they pushed each other around and chattered. 

“That was awesome!” Wrecker whooped as he whipped his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor. A wide smile stretched across his face, skin flushed with excitement. He shoved Echo’s shoulder. “Who knew you could do something like that?!” Right. Echo tried to bite back the grin but he was fighting a losing battle. He’d been on top of a walker, helping plant explosives while the rest of them distracted enemies for him and the big guy. Apparently using his grappling hook to swing off the side of it, wrapping its legs together, and tucking into a roll as he dismounted wasn’t just a common method everyone used. When he’d knocked the walker over he yelled at Wrecker to run, close enough that their backs heated while the explosion went off behind them. Echo wasn’t sure why it was particularly exciting but it may have been the domino effect of explosions that detonated throughout the battlefield that made them all so giddy. 

Something about fire. It just really made all of them bouncier. 

Echo shrugged, attempting nonchalance. “Had to learn something from all of that ARC training.” It was the first time he’d truly felt confident with the batch. They’d only known each other for a few weeks, spent even less time in the field, and he’d fumbled a few plays - understandable - but he’d let it hurt his ego a bit too much. All those racing thoughts and unease had wriggled its way into his mind. A win was nice. It reminded him who he was. A time when they thought he fit in was even better. The batch was so tight he started to think infiltrating their ranks was impossible. 

Maybe he just hadn’t given them enough time. 

Wrecker laughed - bright and jovial - nudging Echo again, this time hard enough that he bumped into Hunter who steadied him with a grin. “You can say that again! We make a great team.” In a move that almost knocked all the air out of his lungs Wrecker swept his arms around Echo’s waist, lifting him up into the air. The shock came first along with a surprised noise from the back of his throat - not a squeak, thank you very much - as the big guy hugged him. His feet dangled in the air while Wrecker swayed him back and forth. 

This was the first time any of them had hugged him. For a brief moment it was like being doused in freezing cold water but the warmth radiating off of Wrecker made every bone in his body relax. Hugs certainly hadn’t been at the top of his list of priorities - he hadn’t really thought about it - but he found himself smiling regardless. Wrecker was a tactile guy, mostly shoving and throwing his arm around the others, but hugs weren’t out of the question. Echo just hadn’t realized that Wrecker would ever want to hug him with his metal and attitude and newness to the squad so he’d not yet attempted to get physically closer to any of them yet. At least Wrecker was the easiest to befriend, so quick to invite Echo to join him in their down time and offer him space. It felt nice to be treated like a part of things. He couldn’t really hug him back, not with his arms pinned to the side as they were, but he did chuckle, awkwardly patting Wrecker’s side.

“Any time, big guy. Maybe next time we can make it a few more yards away from the explosion before it goes off.” The light scold was taken lightheartedly with a laugh. Wrecker squeezed him tight one last time then put him down, holding onto his shoulder to keep him steady while he regained his footing. The smile stuck to his face so bad he almost had to hide it behind his hand. Something as simple as a hug and he was taken down, reduced to silence, watching dutifully as the rest of them kept getting under each other's skin. Lucky was a word he would use, he supposed. It may seem simple but the worry that his new squad wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to be tactile with him was slowly ebbing away, flickering to the back of his mind even for the moment. His hand itched to do the same things the rest of them seemed so comfortable with - shoving, ruffling hair, hugs - but he wasn’t quite there yet. Wasn’t ready to be the initiator for tactile forms of affection. Wrecker had opened the door, allowed in some form of familiarity he hadn’t quite realized he missed so much. There was still learning, sure, but hope bloomed in his chest at the thought that this could be more than a squad, more than a team, but something closer to his heart altogether.

Echo… ❤️

finally got my hands on Clip Studio Paint

our favorite depressed disabled war vet needed some love <3

Fun little story… 💕

@reader6898 Sorry but tumblr ate your ask too!!! Thankfully I did screenshot it in case it happened again.

"Congratulations on the followers! May I please have butterscotch topping with the prompt "dad and baby alone for the first time" with the love of your life Hardcase 🙏 Congratulations once again. You deserve every follower🎉"

Thank you so much!! I have to admit, I did skip ahead to write this one because I very much needed some Hardcase time after some things that happened earlier in the week. I hope you enjoy!

Uncles

Pairing: Hardcase x Reader Event: Sunshine's Follower Milestone (still open) Event Masterlist: Masterlist Graphic dividers&Event graphics: by myself @sunshinesdaydream Rating: SFW WARNINGS: Mention of someone being "blasted" (fuck Pong Krell) Word count: 1079

“We have everything we need, Babe,” Hardcase nudged you out the door. “Go, visit, show off holos of our beautiful baby, plan a great Lifeday party with the others,”

You were going out with the partners of several troopers from Torrent Company. A day out was planned and also time to plan and make arrangements for Torrent’s Lifeday party. 

 “I just, it’s the longest I’ll have been away from her” you suddenly feel forlorn.  

Hardcase kisses you gently, baby cradled in one arm, “You are already doing better than I did, and definitely better than I will in a couple of weeks,”

The reminder that he was shipping out in two weeks struck you and you shook your head, “I should be staying here with you!” 

“Nope. As much as I’d like to keep you here, you have things to do and so do I.”he answered. He had intended on finishing a commission he had that morning after you left. 

“I could take care of her while you finish…” you begin. 

“We got it, you know that,” he reminded you.  It was true, the pair had bonded very quickly. Also she would take a solid morning nap, giving him plenty of time.  “And you need to make sure they don’t plan something too ridiculous for the cake.”

“Okay, okay,” you conceded, kissing your baby’s head and then Hardcase one more time. “You two take care of each other,”

“Got it, have fun!” He grinned. Once the door closed behind you he looked down at the baby. “Okay lil bit, let’s do this,”. 

A half hour later the baby was content with a fresh diaper and having freshly finished a bottle. She was dozing in the birikad he had strapped to his chest while he drew, humming along to some music he had on.  He had just finished and sent it off to be approved when his com went off.  Loudly.  Cursing himself for forgetting to put it on silent he quickly answered it, but not before it woke the baby. 

“Yeah, Jess…what’s up? He asked, balancing the com and extracting the now distressed infant out of the sling. 

“I heard you were home by yourself with…. Why is she crying? What did you do?” Jesse demanded. 

“You did it. You called and I think you actually scared the piss out of her,” Hardcase grumbled at his brother. “She needs changing. Talk to you later.” He ended the call with Jesse protesting on the other end.

He comforted her while taking her to change her. “Your ba’vodu is a di’kut, lil bit” he told her as he began changing her diaper, after she had calmed some. “I think maybe some tummy time?”

“Then your ba’vodu Dogma blasted that darjetii,” he mocked the sound of a blaster shot.  The baby, who was watching him intently smiled at him.  “Or that’s what I was told. I was still out of commission,” he was distracted by his com vibrating. “Wonder what Kix needs?”

“You okay, vod? Jesse is losing his mind, something about ad’ika…” Kix said as soon as he answered. 

“Di’kut panicked because he heard I was by myself with her and she was crying because the com scared her awake.” Hardcase explained.

“So everything is okay?” Kix asked. 

“We are just fine,” Hardcase told him. “I was just telling her about Umbara and about to get her a bottle because it’s almost time,”

“That’s not appropriate for kids, ‘Case!” Kix scolded. 

“Vod, it’s not like she can understand what I’m saying. She just likes to hear me talk.” He laughed.  “I’m going to get her that bottle now, she’s making hungry face” 

He ended the call with Kix and said to his newborn daughter, “two of your ba’voduse are di’kute,”

Hardcase gave her another bottle and she dozed in her birikad again, snuggled in where could easily glance down and see her face. There was a boloball game later that he wanted to watch, but he had a while to wait. So, he started the game system. He had just logged on and was waiting for his game to start when his com vibrated again. 

“Shouldn’t you be watching ad’ika?” Fives asked from the other end. 

Hardcase glanced down, yup still asleep. “Yeah, she’s asleep,”

“But you logged on, you should be…” Fives continued. Hardcase could hear Echo in the background. 

“Vod, she is attached to me. She’s sleeping in her birikad Rex gave us.” Hardcase was getting actually annoyed now. Three calls from his vode.  In contrast other than the gushing you had responded with when he had snapped a few holos and sent them through the day you hadn’t worried.

“She needs enrichment, the book says…” Echo had obviously snatched the phone from Fives.  He had read a book about ‘Baby’s first year’ like it was the regs.  The difference was, he knew the regs to know how to bend them.  But like her other uncles he was excessively protective over the littlest addition.

Hardcase ended the call, cutting Echo off. “ALL of your ba’voduse are di’kute,” he huffed, looking down at the still sleeping baby.   “Wait… not all!”  

He selected a com frequency. “Everything okay, Hardcase?” Rex asked when he answered.  An expected amount of concern in his voice, but not frantic like the others.  Hardcase explained what had been happening.  Rex laughed, “I’ll order them to retreat,they should know you would call if you needed help, di’kute. Are you planning on watching the game?”

Five minutes later a sternly worded retreat order came over the Torrent com frequency while Hardcase began to play his game.

When you come home later, you find the two on the couch, watching the boloball game.  Hardcase wearing a jersey for his favorite team with the baby in a matching one.  He was animatedly explaining the game to her while she watched him with the smile she got whenever he talked to her.

“Did you two have fun?” you ask as you give each of them a kiss.

“Other than my brothers being a pain, yeah!” he answered.

“I heard about that,” you laugh as you kick off your shoes to curl up on the couch with them.

“How about you, did you have fun?” He asked as you settled next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Mmm hmmm, missed you two though,” you sigh.

He kisses the top of your head, “We missed you too, Babe,”

Thanks for reading!

☀️Love & Wrecker Hugs☀️

Sunshine

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Thank you @stellarbit for this fun take on my request! That came from your brain so quickly! I love it! 😻

(Is this where requests are submitted? Hope so!)

1000 followers! I can’t even fathom that. Well done!

Was hoping for a SFW using “I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.” Female in the periphery of 501st (mech/nurse/comms) who is on the quieter side. Hanging out with the usual mouthy suspects (playing sabacc or watching a game) as the boys throw insults and tease each other. She throws in the occasional pointed zinger and it gets their attention. Then it’s on! Playful banter ensues. An intellectual “geeky girl takes off her glasses and is finally noticed” feel. Thank you for considering my request.

Thank youuuuuu for the request. This was super fun but WARNING I don't actually understand sabacc so beware I winged it a lil.

All Bets Are Off

Word Count: 2.2k Pairing: platonic 501st x fem!reader Warnings: insinuation of gambling and bad portrayal of sabacc Summary: Jesse, Kix, Dogma, Tup, and Fives decide to play sabacc after finding you tinkering away alone. Dogma can't win, probably doesn't know how to, and you decide to lend a hand.

General Skywalker left much of his plans for the upcoming mission to the imagination of the 501st. All preparations that could be made with the few details given were already put into motion - leaving you and your squad with ample time to kill on the Resolute.

The General personally recruited you after your help decrypting Separatist communications during a mission on your home planet. You’d been hesitant at first, having no combat experience and the desire for a quiet life, but accepted regardless.

The men of the 501st battalion did their best to put you at ease and yet, even after a few weeks with them, you still sat in an adjustment period. Not that that stopped them from loitering around you in their downtime. You were their first taste of female attention that wasn’t Jedi, though, they’d never admit it. In return you were boundlessly entertained by the clones, though, you rarely showed it.

Having come upon you tinkering with a broadband transceiver, Jesse, Kix, Fives, Tup, and Dogma took up a game of sabacc to ‘keep you company’, as they put it. All the while, you snuck glances from the sidelines. Three rounds in and Jesse was on top with Dogma sourly coming in last. 

“Admit it, Dogma, you don’t even know how to play.” Jesse laughed, triumphantly splaying out his cards on the table.

A chorus of groans rounded the group, accentuated by Dogma slamming a hand on the table. Quickly on his feet, Dogma jabbed an accusatory finger across the table. “I know how to play. You’re just getting lucky.” He curled his lip and harshly gestured to Tup who sat beside him. “I bet he isn’t even shuffling correctly!”

One corner of your lips tipped into a smirk. Dogma may have been wrong about Tup’s shuffling, but, at least for where you sat, it did seem luck fueled Jesse’s winning streak.

Tup swept his hands around the table, gathering the cards for another round. Ever the patient man, Tup only shook his head at his brother’s accusation. Kix, on the other hand, would never miss an opportunity to rile his tightly wound brother. 

Smirking, the medic leaned over the table, tauntingly saying, “If you’re so sure, maybe you should deal next.” Tup smiled, nodded, and offered the deck to Dogma. His suggestion only further annoyed Dogma, who pointedly shoved Tup’s hand away. 

As Tup started divvying out the cards, Kix continued, “And you’ll need a bigger tattoo to hide those tells, mate.” You paused your work solely to catch the predictable, red tint Dogma’s face took on.

“You’re one to talk,” Fives retorted with a chuckle, glancing at his first card and then smirking mischievously at Kix. “You couldn’t bluff your way out of a paper bag.”

“How do you-”

Jesse cut Kix short, “You pick up an extra card every time you think you’ve got a good hand.” The entire table murmured in humored agreement before settling into determined silence once the cards were dealt. 

It was funny, you thought, how they pestered one another. They really were brothers at the core of it all. 

Your hands remained still as you dialed in on the game. Initially, you drowned out their commotion during the first round. By the end of the second round, you were purposely eavesdropping - which might not have been the right word considering they’d stepped in on your work as opposed to the other way around. In the last round you’d started tracking who laid down what, correctly predicting Jesse’s win. You’d been counting their cards.

As the next round started you didn’t see the harm in possibly lending poor Dogma a little help. You were sure that Tup was right in Dogma’s knowledge of the game, but that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a little boost. 

Nonchalantly positioning yourself for a view of the whole table, you kept an eye on the cards going around. It seemed that Jesse’s streak might finally break, and fortune was turning in Dogma’s favor.

Confident the other men had equally as bad hands, or worse, than him, you nearly turned away until Dogma started reaching for the draw pile. Hoping to stop him, you purposely scraped your spanner into the device in hand. By chance, the noise stalled him enough to glance towards you.

In a subtle second, you gave a discouraging shake of your head. His eyes stayed on you, albeit with a suspicious glint, as he retracted his hand. Dogma was in no way subtle and his obtuse reaction, just like all of his other tells, was not lost on his squad. You were back to looking busy by the time heads turned your way.

The moment the men returned their attention to the game you followed suit. For reasons unknown to you, Dogma maintained a frustrated expression despite the fact that you knew he had the lowest count hand. At that point, you were certain - he had no clue what the point of the game was or what it took to win. 

The round came to an end when Tup passed on his turn. It was Dogma’s best chance at winning and luckily Dogma did you the favor of looking your way without signal. You quickly mouthed ‘call’ before the others caught on. 

Tup did lean back in search of Dogma’s distraction, surprised to find you spectating. A small smile was all it took for Tup to shrug off his suspicions.

“Call.” Dogma announced with more confidence than you’d expected. 

The table erupted in mild laughter, with Kix nudging Jesse playfully. Jesse leaned forward, eyebrow raised skeptically. "You're bluffing."

"I second that," Kix chimed in. "No way I'm folding."

"Not a chance," Jesse added.

"And what keeps catching your eye?" Fives turned sharply, his suspicion fading as soon as he saw you. Leaning back with a relaxed grin, he draped an arm over the back of his chair. "Didn’t think you’d be interested in card games," he teased. “Or take you for a gambling woman.”

Catching the curious glances from the group, you shrugged lightly, your voice laced with feigned boredom, “Oh, I don’t gamble.” Setting aside the transceiver with the same small smile you gave Tup. “That’s for people who need luck.”

A round of “oohs” filtered through the group, each of the clones smirking to one another.

Fives’ head dipped, clearly amused by the jab. “That’s some big talk.” He nodded again to the table at this back. “Alright then, you tell us who’s going to win.”

You attempted a thoughtful frown but the edge you had on them wouldn’t let you stop smiling. “Well, I know it won’t be you.”

A sharp snort came from across the table. You and Fives peaked over at Dogma, who was finally showing some light heartedness. The smile Dogma finally wore made you feel even more confident in your interjecting. The man really needed to loosen up and you were glad to help.

Unbothered, Fives peered back at you then around the table at each of his brothers. “Not me, huh?” Slinking his arm back around he smoothly glanced at his cards once more and, with a casual flick of his wrist, exposed his hand.

Eager to see the results, you shoved out of your seat to stand at Fives’ shoulder. You were disappointed to see your prediction was a card off, but only by the suit, not the number. And, if you were right, Dogma still had the winning hand.

The others groaned and tossed their cards in. Jesse, visibly knocked down a peg, clicked his tongue and shoved his cards in Tup’s direction. The motion turned the cards face up and revealed a hand that lost to both Fives and Dogma.

You eyed the cards Tup gathered before looking over at Dogma. He had an iron grip on his two cards and an odd expression pinching his face. It was a mix between worry, confusion, and forced composure. Altogether it would be best described as outright discomfort.

Sighing, you relaxed with your head cocked to the side. Pointing over at him you nodded, “Go on Dogma,” you paused, shoring up the courage to join their ribbing. “Show them what it’s like to lose.”

Tup laughed heartily, stopped organizing the cards to give Dogma a sarcastic pat on the shoulder. “Yeah, c’mon Dogma. Show us.”

Instead of shoving Tup off, Dogma smacked his cards down in front of him. He kept the faces hidden beneath his hand for a suspenseful moment before unveiling his winning hand.

Dogma’s discomfort melted away as Tup’s sarcasm turned congratulatory while the others scoffed about Dogma’s luck.

In a show of disbelief, Jesse snapped his head in your direction. His tattoo was distorted by the severe pinching of his brows. “How’d you know he was going to win?” 

Fives leaned in on his elbows, waving a dismissive hand. “Everyone gets a little lucky.” The dismissal bit into your pride, a slight you wouldn’t let pass.

Bringing your face to his level, you purred to Fives, “Like I said, I don’t need luck Corporal.” You mimicked Tup’s gentle pat to the shoulder as you straightened back out. “If you must know, it’s called ‘counting cards’.”

“You counted the cards?” Kix leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, and wearing an incredulous grin. “From over there?” He exchanged a shake of his head with Jesse beside him.

In a voice that was more impressed than incredulous Jesse said, “It does seem like a reach.”

“You’re just mad that you lost.” Dogma interjected, sending a reassuring nod your way. Out of his squad, he’d been the least personable with you up to that point. Not that his struggle with the softer touches of rapport building ever offended you, it just made the small display of kindness stand out more than it would coming from the others.

Unfortunately, his newfound endearance put you on the spot when he followed up by saying, “In fact, I bet she’d wipe the floor with you lot.” 

Dogma wasn’t smiling at you as his brothers turned fully on you, but he was positively brimming with pure confidence in you. He was so much easier to win over than you’d expected and yet, for all he knew, you could’ve just gotten lucky. His borderline blind faith was concerning as it was flattering.

“Well…” Your voice trailed off as the weight of their expectant smiles settled in.

Fives shifted completely around in his chair, soaking up the awkward twinge in your smile. “I’ll take that bet.”

Something about the way his eyebrow quirked up at you in challenge made your stomach flip. For the sake of your sanity you hoped it was born from friendly competition as opposed to charm. 

Sucking on a tooth, you gave it one last thought and rolled your eyes. “If you want to go broke that badly, I won’t say no.” 

Your compliance, reluctant as you tried to make it seem, roused another round of cheering from the men. Fives and Jesse gladly scooted apart, making way as you drug a chair over. 

While you settled in, Tup chuckled as he began shuffling the cards, “If we’d known you liked sabacc, we’d have made you join ages ago.”

Brushing off nonexistent dust from your sleeve you replied, “If I’d known you were this easy to beat I’d have joined ages ago.” Earning their jovial reactions was weirdly satisfying and made you a little annoyed you hadn’t warmed up sooner.

“Alright, alright. Enough chatter.” Fives said in a warm tone. He sat close enough that he only had to lean over slightly to bump into you. “Let’s see you put your money where your mouth is, Shorty.”

Your face heated a bit, neck nearly snapping as you looked up at him. Jesse’s laugh cut you off as you tried to refute the moniker. You weren’t quick enough in turning on Jesse before Kix piped up.

“You are shorter than, well, all of us.”

Even Dogma seemed amused by their joking with you. For him, it probably felt nice for the center of the joking to just not be him for a while. And… it didn’t feel bad either to get the same treatment as they all did.

Despite scoffing to yourself, there was no hiding your enjoyment. A feeling had been bubbling in you through the entire interaction and, without warning, you started laughing loudly and genuinely. Unbeknownst to you, as eager as you were to keep them laughing, seeing your real smile for the first time made the 501st boys just as determined to keep you smiling.

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.” You mumbled as the laughter subsided.

“Ahh, stick with us and I’ll bet you’ll be sick of it.” Tup said, earning an agreeable mumble from the rest of his brothers.

You shrugged, unconvinced. “I’ll take that bet.”