our actions define our legacy

Wild hamster

There’s a short answer and a long answer. The short answer is that centrally to mandalorian cultural foundations, mental illness should be understood and not stigmatized, and the community supportive of the individual suffering. A community focused culture like those of the mandalorians is one of support, assistance, and understanding. The fact is, Mandalorian cultural foundations literally view struggle of all kinds as important to spiritual growth, as well as the physical and mental. The foundations explicitly venerate coming together as a community to support one another. It is, literally, in the Resol’nare.

While mandalorians are not all warriors, it’s no secret that a large percentage of their population work on battlefields or in war zones—enough for that to be a stereotyped profession. A society like this must learn to deal with all of the mental and physical disabilities that stem from such professions. Negative stigma is unsustainable—there is no way mandalorians, as a people, would have survived for so long as they did, and do, if they literally treated mental illness, such as depression, with the attitude of “haha, you’re weak.”

It’s just not realistic. It’s ignorant. 

The long answer is that because of ignorance and an obsession with harmful ideas of strength and weakness, and a complete misunderstanding of “warrior culture” on the whole in order to defend and prop up toxic ideas of strength and masculinity, the fandom pushes the idea that mandalorians would be intolerant of mental illness—when what we know about mandalorians blatantly expresses otherwise, if you know where to look.

So, let’s look.

Struggle versus Stagnation

The mandalorian creation myth, Akaanati'kar'oya, tells us of an eternal struggle between Kad Ha’rangir, the Destroyer, and the sloth-god Arasuum, Stagnation. During the time of the Neo-Crusaders, the creation myth was regarded not as just a story but a telling of factual events.

At the time, devotion to Kad Ha’rangir was expressed through ritual warfare — and it was said that a person is not a mandalorian if they give in to stagnation.

But, fandom often misses, overlooks, or outright ignores a major component of Kad Ha’rangir. They are not a destroyer god, They are a chaos god of change.

Kad Ha’rangir is not a Destroyer to destroy — They are a destroyer to clear out the things that would choke and trap you. Sometimes destruction is necessary for growth. Sometimes you have to cut out the parts of you, or your community, that is holding you down or preventing you from accepting change, from pursuing change, from growing and reaching your full potential.

Sometimes you have to clear the dead and the decay, violently, to allow life to flourish when it could not before.

“They served the god Kad Ha'rangir, whose tests and trials forced change and growth upon the clans he chose to be his people.”

— Vilnau Teupt, The Essential Guide to Warfare

Kad Ha’rangir was never about destruction for destruction’s sake. They were never about conquering. Huge chunks of mandalorian fandom can’t seem to wrap their fucking minds around that fact. They obsess over this misconception of “Proud Warrior Race,” completely misunderstanding Kad Ha’rangir and pushing a stereotype that just doesn’t fit.

And all this? Was explicit in the creation myth itself.

For those who would say they’re “outdated” and that mandalorians wouldn’t know about them … well, that’s not true either. The creation myth, Kad Ha’rangir and the original pantheon, was still known and discussed by Mandalorian academics as late as 24 ABY. So claiming ignorance won’t work.

This creation myth, among other myths and legends, are the very foundations and building blocks upon which the entire culture was born, they are integral to mandalorian cultural identity.

The parts of fandom who see the word “destruction” fixate on the aggressive violence inherent in the word, and that’s just … such a small, narrow view. It’s completely missing the point, usually in order to chest thump.

How is this relevant, you might ask. Isn’t depression (to use your example) idleness and stagnation?

Well, yes, actually, depending on how you might look at it. But that’s the point.

Anyone who understands depression from a place of education and not ignorance understands that depression is a sickness(and, lmao, mandalorians value education, so idk why the toxic parts of fandom are incapable of educating themselves and discarding misconceptions about mental health, but that’s an entirely different discussion). It can be treated, can be managed, can maybe even be cured in some cases, but it is literally a battle fought day in and day out against an invisible enemy.

And these kinds of battles are some of the most difficult to survive. How do you fight, and overcome, and survive, something you cannot see? How do you survive when it is your body that you are fighting?

Dealing with depression, fighting depression, surviving depression, is, in a way, the spiritual struggle against arasuum taken from an external form and brought internally—and there is no way that mandalorians, on the whole, wouldn’t be able to see its relevance or make that connection, ESPECIALLY considering the symptoms of depression.

And this isn’t even touching on other forms of mental illnesses—like PTSD, which is also heavily stigmatized in our society and carries that stigma into mandalorian “fans,” despite so many mandalorians being subject to violence and the potential of developing the disorder. 

A disorder which is so often co-morbid with depression.

For something that so many soldiers are at high risks of developing, and mandalorian fandom supposedly being drawn to the mandalorians due to their militaristic culture, it is mind boggling how the fandom treats depression, PTSD, and other mental health disorders / illnesses on the whole.

As I’ve said before: shabla mirsh'kyramude.

Add onto this the fact that mandalorians, in general, heavily practice adoption along the requirements of whether or not someone is mandokarla, or has the right stuff. What is often considered the right stuff?

surviving the impossible (often extreme violence or abuses)

displaying the potential for the incredible, often in a warlike setting

proving one’s self through extreme events

extreme devotion to family and personal code

I would be surprised if literally everyone adopted into the culture was perfectly stable and healthy. In fact, I’ll go out on a limb right now and say that anyone who says that, deserves a smack. In Legends, nearly every single goddamn example of adoption has been of someone who has been severely impacted by extreme circumstances and still survives—but is still clearly damaged by it, and struggles with it in whatever way they can.

And that struggle is venerated. Instead of stigmatized, they’re viewed through a lens of bravery, of courage, of atinla—a stubbornness to be admired and imitated, not a reason to be ridiculed and abandoned. 

Ultimately this all falls back into the toxic ideology that surrounds “strength,” which is unsustainable, and the stigma against appearing weak, which is, again, incongruent with actual mandalorian philosophy and cultural foundation.

Anyway, moving on.

Accessibility / Accommodations / Impact

Not solely mental health, but still relevant and still applies:

Parja reached up and patted [Fi’s] helmet. She’d painted it with the Mandalorian letters M and S for mir’shupur — brain injury — just like a battlefield medic might do for triage purposes. On Mandalore, the symbol functioned as a blend of a general warning to give the wearer a break, and a medal for combat service.

— Republic Commando: Order 66, pp 39

Now, the Republic Commando series holds a kind of … contentious position in fandom, as I’m sure you’ve probably noticed. However, this is one of the things it does get right, as far as mental illness and disability is concerned. Yes, Fi Skirata suffered a traumatic brain injury in the line of duty, but that doesn’t change the fact that it is still just as much a mental health issue as it is a physical one. Fi experiences disorientation. He forgets things he feels he shouldn’t, struggles with words and speaking, and so on.

The sigil painted on his helmet is a clear, public, visible way to alert everyone around him, explicitly, what to expect so that everyone in the community can accommodate and assist him.

What people don’t understand when reading this scene, is that this is not something done if anyone suspects he would be at risk of being taken advantage of. He is in a predominantly mandalorian community, populated by mostly if not only mandalorians, with the expectation that the community will assist him as a rule, not an exception.

You don’t paint a goddamn sign that says BRAIN INJURY on someone’s helmet in a society that stigmatizes disability or weakness of any kind.

This sets a precedence, whether knowingly or unknowingly: mandalorians, as a community, will assist another mandalorian with a disability. If there was any risk at all, Parja would never have allowed Fi to wander around a busy town alone, much less paint a sigil on his helmet that would make him an obvious target otherwise.

Another thing: it is specifically a sigil written in the mandalorian alphabet, not arubesh, and it’s implied to be understood to mandalorians only, and not aruettise (unless they’re familiar with mandalorian cultural practices, and alphabet).

Why is this important?

It is because it is the biggest, clearest, loudest example we have that mandalorians display both badges as well as warnings through art and sigils on their armor. They give signals that this person is suffering x disability as a warning and a request for patience, assistance, and accessibility. That assistance and accessibility is expected of the community, not something done out of kindness or saintliness or good samaritan whatever the hell.

It is the rule, not the exception. It is the rule.

I’m repeating myself, but I’m trying to drill in this point because fandom fails to recognize something so little as so important, and it is important.

It is so small and easy to miss, but it completely decimates any foundation to the argument that mental illness is a weakness and that the sufferer should be abandoned. 

Putting aside however briefly the fact that negatively stigmatizing mental illness is harmful and puts real people at risk of real harm and danger, propping up the idea that mandalorians don’t deal with or address disability or illness of any kind in the face of the above is just … ignoring all of the creative potential for telling interesting stories—creating art, sigils, and armor.

Consider: art or sigils indicating:

autism spectrum

schizophrenia

PTSD

blindness

deaf or hard of hearing

etc etc etc

What is the point of writing a people who are as community focused as mandalorians, who have a huge population who deals with war as an industry, who has a huge population of refugees and forced migration, and then never having the courage to sensitively deal with the repercussions of these terrible things? Never having the thought to even consider what it means to carry a sigil of depression as both an indicator of needing assistance as well as a badge of honor for fighting what could be an invisible battle for years?

What is the actual point of maintaining a status quo of demonizing mental illness when mandalorians, as a society, have firmly flipped the bird at status quo time and time again in order to come together and support all members of their community — even fighting each other to do so? 

The toxic parts of mandalorian fandom is lazy. Do not accept that laziness, that inadvertent worship of arasuum, as fact. 

To put it crudely, they don’t know shit about shit.

Mandalorians venerate, give respect, give honor, to struggle. All forms of struggle. Even surviving, just surviving, is a struggle. 

There’s a betting pool going on who takes Luke’s virginity. The favourites are Han and Leia, but Wedge Antilles has pretty good odds, and there’s a small contingent of aliens who are convinced it will be Chewie (after all, who could resist that Wookie musk? Headcanon: most alien races consider humans soft and gross. Most alien races find Wookies absurdly attractive. Han Solo isn’t the ladykiller; Chewie is.)

Leia and Han scream at each other in every corner of the base. Everyone is desperate for them to fuck. They do not. The sexual tension is so thick that it could be cut into blocks and sold as wall insulation. More than once they are ‘accidentally’ locked in a supply cupboard in the vain hope that claustrophobia will act as the catalyst that enables their frustration to spark into true love – or at least nasty raunchy cupboard sex. It does not. All that happens is that the offender has legally changed their name to escape the Wrath of Organa. 

Someone paints a shirtless Han Solo on their X Wing. Leia is furious. Han is delighted: both at the highly flattering portrait (he has an eight-pack, he is shredded) and at Leia’s fury (you’re jealous princess/no I am not/you’re jealous, hey I can pose like that for you if you –). Hoth’s winter had nothing on the chilly silence that followed that suggestion. 

Luke and Leia both have very graphic dreams about Han Solo. Han Solo has very graphic dreams about the twins –  individually, together, he’s thirty fucking years old, why is his brain doing this to him.(Later on they will, individually, realise that due to Luke and Leia’s Force-bond they probably created a circle of Han Solo Sex Dreams: Leia had them, so Luke sensed her lust for Han which intensified his own lust for Han, which led to Luke having Han Solo sex dreams, which led to Leia lusting – and so on, and so on. For the sake of their sanity, they never share this revelation which each other.)

Luke is SO COLD. All the time. WHY DOES NO ONE APPRECIATE HOW COLD HE IS. He comes from a desert world. Of course he’s cold! What is all this white stuff? It was pretty for the first fve seconds but holy fucking Force it is so cold it burns and what the hell is going on with that? He bundles himself up in so many layers that he waddles rather than walks. Fearsome Last of the Jedi indeed.

I am torn between wanting Stabby to be grabbed and evacuated along with the Rebels and make it to the next base, and wanting Stabby to get Vader.

Compromise: shortly after losing the Millennium Falcon, Vader, storming through the Rebel base, is startled to feel a sudden jolt of pain from the artificial sensors on his left leg prosthetic: a sharp sensation on his ankle. Surprised, because he sensed no threat–is the limb malfunctioning?–he looks down, and there is a cleaning droid with a knife taped to it, a little painted-on Rebel lieutenant’s insignia, and the word STABBY written on it.

He stares down at it, completely and utterly taken aback for the first time in over a decade. Fearlessly, it chitters back at him, sounding very triumphant.

He picks it up.

Off in the fractal weirdness of hyperspace, Rebels on several ships are surprised to find an update on Stabby’s kill-update feed, and then thoroughly shocked at the accompanying image: the upward-pointing camera has captured an image of Darth Vader staring down at the droid.

It’s the fastest news ever to travel through the Rebel grapevine, the mix of triumph and loss that is, they are certain, Stabby’s heroic last stand.

Until a day later, when the thing updates again, this time showing an extremely confused Imperial officer. And another, and another, and another, day after day.

They cancel the funeral.

“I have altered the droid; pray I do not alter it any further.”

HE CALLS IT HIS APPRENTICE

“Hey!” calls a teenaged Poe Dameron, walking into the Droid repair shop. “I got this decommissioned BB-8 chassis they said to bring in here. It needs a new owner. Captain said I can have it if I can find a new mechanism for it.”

The Master Droid Tech looks at Stabby, then at the BB-8 chassis, then back at Stabby. Stabby turns his unsheathed ocular sensor to Poe and beeps adoringly. (This is a common if relatively new reaction to Poe Dameron, who has just graduated from his Awkward Stage.)

I’ve heard from a lot of people that, when making a Star Wars OC, they get overwhelmed by the sheer amount of species and they have trouble choosing just one. So, at 3am about a week ago, I had the idea to put together a flowchart to help make that decision easier! I picked out 75 different species, both the well-known and the more obscure from both canon and legends, and grouped them by everything from the shape of their horns to the number of arms they have. I tried my best to have it be coherent and make sense, so hopefully there’s some use for it!

Links to info and (for some) videos showing off the species are below the cut. Some species have less than others to go off of, so I apologize in advance if I can’t find much. Hope this helps, though! :D

– Submitted by @thefoodwiththedood

SUPPLEMENTAL DATA: IN MEMORIAM

So since I can’t find any filmed version of the “Music of Rogue One” panel with David W. Collins I’ll post some of the highlights here. I’m a music theory nerd myself but I was surrounded by people who have never paid attention to music analysis and were still moved to tears so I encourage everyone to check this out (and watch the panel please if it’s ever made available.)

the Panel began with Collins discussing the legacy of John Williams and the Star Wars main theme specifically. He discussed how it was originally meant to be Luke Skywalker’s theme, and how that interpretation can still hold true considering Star Wars is the Skywalker Saga

The coolest thing pointed out re the main theme is that it’s musical construction mirrors the structure of the Hero’s Journey, the monomyth structure that all of Star Wars revolves around. It rises suddenly with the call to adventure, then builds with the journey, drops during the abyss, is reborn with another musical rise, then returns to the beginning. Collins emphasized that Williams is without a doubt a musical genius and that Michael Giacchino had a big challenge in making a score that lived up to William’s legacy while standing on it’s own. This was a challenge he more than met, as this panel made clear.

Now moving on to Rogue One, Collin’s discussed the title theme “Hope.” This theme is clearly heard over the title of the film, during Jyn’s big speech to the Rebellion, and throughout the film.

Collins pointed out that, like the main Star Wars theme, “Hope” echos the structure of the film itself. There are heroic major key moments in the theme, but it ends in a melancholy way that almost sounds unfinished. It represents the sacrifice at the center of the film. This is a story of incredible heroism that merely paves the way for others to finish the journey. 

Collins moved on to discuss the musical themes for each character in Rogue One, with a lot of focus on Jyn’s theme. Jyn’s theme is the most frequently heard piece along with “Hope” in the film. In fact, we hear it three times in the film’s prologue alone.

The fascinating thing Collins pointed out is Giacchino’s use of Dies Irae throughout the score. Dies Irae, or Day of Wrath, is the medieval hym describing the end of the world. It is sung during funeral masses and musically is quoted widely to represent death

EVERY CHARACTER THEME IN ROGUE ONE IS STRUCTURED AROUND DIES IRAE. Jyn, Chirrut, Baze, even Krennic, ALL OF THEM

Giacchino was signaling from the beginning that this is a story about death. He wrote the sacrifice of these characters right into their themes.

A notable use of Dies Irae beyond character themes is it’s repetition as Cassian and Jyn begin to climb the tower in the archive during the climax. The first two notes of Dies Irae are repeated as they do so. When Krennic walks down the hallway with his Death Troopers, all three notes play (death literally chasing them). And when Jyn almost drops, than catches the data tapes, Dies Irae is replaced by “Hope”

Jyn’s theme in particular is a melancholy theme centered on Dies Irae, but with a lovely, lullaby like feeling. It tells you from the beginning that Jyn’s is a story of hope and inspiration but also death and sacrifice.

An interesting use of Jyn’s theme and “Hope” together is during Jyn’s speech to the Rebellion. First we here “Hope” swell as Jyn speaks to the Rebels. Then when her speech is shot down, the theme drops, replaced by Jyn’s theme. This represents that it is Jyn herself who inspires the sacrifice that will eventually bring on the Hope. Jyn is the hope.

Another mind blowing moment was a musical parallel that Collins pointed out with the character of Bodhi Rook. In the scene where he recalls his mission, repeating “I’m the pilot, I brought the message,” listen for the flutes. That exact same flute theme plays in A New Hope when Luke discovers Leia’s message hidden in R2. By doing this,  Giacchino is directly mapping the journey of “the message.” Bodhi receives the message of the Death Star and how it can be destroyed from Galen, he brings it to Jyn, who with Rogue One, transmit the message, which ends up in the hands of Leia, then to R2, then to Luke, who must return it to the Rebellion. Those flutes represent the origin of the message with Bodhi through to A New Hope.

This panel was full of mind blowing moments, but the most mind blowing moment by far was another musical connection to A New Hope. After we had become very familiar with Jyn’s theme over the course of the panel, Collin’s played a scene from A New Hope for us. It was the moment when Obi-Wan asks Luke to come with him to Alderaan and Luke resists. When Obi-Wan says he’s getting too old for this sort of thing, Jyn’s theme plays clearly under Luke’s hesitation. In the original context, a hint of Dies Irae was WIlliam’s way of foreshadowing Obi-Wan’s death, but after Giacchino used that musical queue to build Jyn’s theme, it suddenly has deeper meaning. It’s Jyn’s sacrifice calling to Luke, compelling him to be the hope she fought for. And it is connecting Obi-Wan’s eventual sacrifice with that of Jyn and her comrades.  

Collins also highlighted how Giacchino’s score for the final moments of the film, from Jyn’s confrontation with Krennic through the arrival of Vader and the death of Jyn and Cassian, is unconventional and incredibly effective. Jyn’s confrontation with Krennic is silent, no music, unexpected for such a key moment. Only when Cassian appears does the music return. And throughout the final sequence, as we witness horrifying destruction, death. the arrival of the Death Star and Vader’s Star Destroyer, the score stays distant, gentle, melancholy. It does not highlight the horror. It steps back and mourns over it, like the eyes of history or the Force itself, honoring the sacrifice. 

Sooo.. Uhh, this is a bit of smut I wrote after a conversation with @thebisexualmandalorian. Takes place in s&c au. And for anyone that doesn’t remember, Stick and Poke are very close with Fives and Echo. Background on that can be read here. Stick and Poke have fun with Wolffe.

Thank you!! This was fun to write. I took a little creative license with the prompt, I hope you don’t mind. Also on ao3

“Hey, Hevy, got a question for you.”

Hevy turned at Hardcase’s voice. “Hey Had’ika! Sure, what’s up?”

“Well,” Hardcase dragged the word out for a good three seconds, which meant he wasn’t sure how his question was going to be taken.

Hevy smiled, those were usually the best questions, “Out with it.”

Hardcase smiled shyly back, “I happened across some body paint, and I was curious if you would let me add to the beautiful art already you’ve already got.”

Hevy raised an eyebrow, “‘Happened’ across some body paint, huh?”

A faint blush spread across Hardcase’s cheeks. “Okay, I asked Jesse to get me some after he told me how gorgeous Kix looked. I just couldn’t get the thought of you out of my head.”

Hevy leaned forward and and placed a kiss on Hardcase’s nose. “Absolutely, sounds like fun.”

Hardcase beamed at him with a smile that could light up an entire flagship.

Hevy took off the top half of his blacks and laid back on the bunk, smiling as Hardcase pulled out a little pot of 501st blue paint. Hevy would have to ask Jesse how he was able to get such a specific color later.

Hardcase sat down, straddling Hevy’s thighs. He dipped a couple of his fingers into the pot, “I wasn’t able to get any brushes, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Hevy smirked up at him, Hardcase knew quite well how much Hevy loved his hands on him.

Hardcase smiled back and started tracing out designs with the paint. He started at Hevy’s collarbone working his way down his chest and abdomen.  He worked around Hevy’s existing tattoo, painting in spirals and whorls, recalling the some of the designs he had tattooed onto his own body.

Hevy loved the feeling of Hardcase’s hands roaming his skin. It was similar to when he was tracing his tattoos, but not quite. Hardcase’s focus was slightly different, more focused, than curious intensity from before. Sometimes it would tickle as Hardcase passed over sensitive areas. Other areas, created a certain other kind of interest, but Hevy shoved that aside for later. Allowing Hardcase to finish what he started.

Hevy could get used to this, the wet paint drying on his skin was such a unique sensation. It was calming and relaxing. Hardcase’s calloused, but gentle hands tracing over his body. Hevy hadn’t realized he had even closed his eyes until Harcase kissed him on the forehead.

“How do I look?” Hevy asked, trying to look down his chest.

“Beautiful. Like always.” Hevy would never be over the reverence in Hardcase’s voice when he talked about him like that. Rather than say anything though, he just pulled Hardcase down for a kiss. Hevy could feel Hardcase’s growing interest.

“How about we find another use for that paint?” Hevy almost waggled his eyebrows, but figured he didn’t even need to.

“That, cyar’ika, is an excellent idea. Jesse mentioned that it is safe for all activities.” Hardcase did waggle his eyebrows, the adorable bastard.

“Kix, made this didn’t he?” Hardcase smiled in reply. “We’ll have to find a way to thank him later.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CT-21-0408 | Echo/CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555 Characters: CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555, CT-21-0408 | Echo Additional Tags: Echo didn’t die, married fives/echo, Fives has excellent intuition, Fives may or may not be force sensitive, More tags to be added Summary:

Fives has a bad feeling, its not the first time, or the last.

omg thank you!! This got a bit more sad than I expected, but I still kind of love it. Set in the CCau. Hope you enjoy!! Also on ao3. 

Echo had been quiet lately. He had never been boisterous, not like so many of their vode. But this was a different kind of quiet. The kind of quiet that settled like a thick blanket over the entire house. Everything was still, and sad.

It always broke Fives’ heart when his husband got like this. He knew it stemmed from his time at TechoUnion. From the time that he was tortured, experimented on, and used.

It could be difficult to pull him out of his downward spiral. Fives was determined not to allow it to get so far this time. He needed to find a way to at least make him more comfortable, help pull him out of his head.

Fives smirked. He had an excellent idea. First, he needed to go to Mischief, Rabble and Ruckus’ place for supplies. This was going to be perfect.

——-

Echo had been floating again. He wasn’t sure for how long this time. It felt like ages. He was in that tank again. Suspended in bacta, not sure who, or what he was.  His brain was fuzzy, his limbs not attached to his body.

“Echo.”

Someone was calling his name, at least he thought it was his name. The voice saying the name made it sound so nice; familiar.

“Echo.”

Yes. Definitely his name. He had a name, he had a body, he had a life. His eyes fluttered open a dark room and someone was kneeling next to the bed.

“Hey, babe.” Fives smiled softly at him. He wiped the tears off of Echo’s cheek with his thumb, “I’ve got a surprise for you, if you think you could move. Or If you’d like, I could carry you.”

Echo attempted to smile, he was not very successful, “I think I could walk, if you’ll help me.”

“Of course.” Fives helped him stand up, putting his mechnoarm behind his neck, and wrapped his arm around Echo’s waist. “It’s a short walk, promise.”

Echo nodded, but concentrated on actually moving his limbs.

Fives was true to his word, like he always was, and they walked the short distance to their living room. But Fives had made a few changes.

They paused for a moment, to let Echo to take it all in. The room had soft blue and red string lights strung up all around, disappearing underneath a mass of blankets that were tied up in the center of the room.

Fives smiled at Echo, “Just wait ‘til you see the inside.”

Fives opened the flap and helped Echo in. He was instantly amazed at what Fives managed to put together. The floor was plush, covered in blankets and pillows of all sizes and colors. The lights circled around the entire “ceiling” of the fort. It was warm, and cozy, and comforting. There was enough room for them to be comfortable, but still small enough to feel intimate.

“Oh Fiv’ika, it’s wonderful.” Fives helped him lay down. “Where did you get this all?”

“Well, I went over to R2M’s place and borrowed some supplies. I’ve seen some of what Ruckus can accomplish with a couple blankets and a few pillows, so I asked for a few tips.”

Echo genuinely smiled,”It’s perfect.”

Fives gathered Echo to his side, resting his head on his chest. Fives wrapped his arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close.

Echo felt solid and real for the first time in much too long. “Thank you, cyare.”

Ok. I totally love this, but I’m not sure how well I actually achieved the prompt. I hope you still like it! There is a little bonus fact at the end on ao3.

Kix just had what felt like the longest rotation he ever had in his short life. Everything that could go bizarrely sideways, did. He felt like he had been dragged through the entire length of the ship, making sure that he hit every single bump and bolt possible. Stick being laid out sick, and Poke taking care of him didn’t help the situation at all. But, everyone was finally okay. He could rest.

He was eternally grateful that Jesse was meeting him soon. He was exhausted enough to actually consider asking Jesse to carry him to the barracks.

He started to turn at the sound of the door opening, “Oh gods, Jesse, I’m-” Kix looked at the shiny who just walked into his finally, blessedly empty medbay. “You. Are not Jesse.”

“Uhh, no, sir. I just-” Not-Jesse was interrupted by Actual-Jesse walking in.

“Hey, Kixystix. You ready to go?” Jesse only then noticed the shiny. “You okay, kid?”

“Umm, well. Actually, Hardcase sent me in here to…” The shiny tapered off, as Kix’s face got increasingly red, his eyebrows shifted into an angry ‘v’.

“Hardcase, what?” Kix asked in a harsh tone. Hardcase was notorious for sending shinies to Kix for some prank or another. Usually to prank the shiny more than Kix.

Jesse knew this was going to be bad. The shiny was not at fault for whatever stunt Hardcase was attempting to pull this time. So rather than letting Kix explode at this innocent vod, Jesse promptly lifted Kix off his feet. He tossed him up and over his shoulder.

Before he left, he turned to the shiny, “Head back to Hardcase, and tell him to start hiding now. After he gets some sleep, Kix is going to be on a rampage.”

Kix’s initial yelp turned into muttering, until he slapped Jesse’s ass, “If we’re leaving, then get moving dammit.”

I adore writing these two thank you so much for this prompt. Also on ao3.

In Sickness and in Health.

“You need to go lay down.” Poke scolded as soon as he saw his husband. They had been apart all rotation, busy in different parts of the medbay.

“I’m fine.” Stick ground out, obviously clenching his jaw.

“Cyare, you’re pale, sweating, obviously shivering, and look like an actual standing corpse. Go. To. Bed.” Poke tried his patented Medic Voice, but Stick was basically immune to it by this point.

“Honestly, I’m fine. I just-” Stick paused to close his eyes for a moment, whether to let nausea or dizziness pass, Poke wasn’t sure, “-just need to finish the last batch of reports.”

“Bullshit, and you know it. You can finish those later. You look like you have that flu that wreaked havoc in the battalion a week ago.” Poke honestly felt like he was talking to a brick wall rather than his husband.

Stick let out a sharp bark of laughter, and immediately looked like he regretted it. “Medics don’t get sick.”

Poke felt his eyes practically roll out of their sockets. “Okay, Bevik’ika, whatever you say.” He turned to go and see if Jesse was still around to help manhandle his husband to bed, when he heard a thump behind him.

“Karking hells.” Poke muttered as he saw Stick sprawled out on the floor, “Orderly! I need some help in here please!” He yelled out into the large common room of the medbay. “If you pushed yourself too far I am going to kill you.” He aimed back at his unconscious husband.

——-

Stick awoke slowly, and painfully. Everything hurt so much. His entire body ached, he couldn’t tell if he was in a pot of boiling water, or dunked in a tank of ice. His head was pounding like his brain was trying to escape his skull, and it felt like there was a lump on the back of his head that hadn’t been there before.

His throat felt like it had been ripped to shreds, he couldn’t swallow without wincing. His lungs felt like they were on fire, burning him up with every breath he took.

Just when Stick was going to start wish to wish for the sweet embrace of death, he sensed a soothing touch along his forehead. He may have whimpered and leaned into the contact, but he honestly couldn’t be sure what was real.

Then the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, spoke to him, “Sleep, riduur. I am here.” Stick took the advice to heart as consciousness, and pain slipped away.

The next time Stick woke up, he actually had some self awareness. He groaned as he tried to roll over. Poke was instantly at his side pushing his shoulder back gently.

“Why does it feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of angry bantha?” Stick croaked.

“Well, cyare,” Poke started, while handing him a cup of water, “it’s because you had the flu, and rather than actually resting and recovering, you worked through it, and made it about ten times worse than it would have been.”

Stick groaned as laid back down, “I’m sorry, cyar’ika.”

“You better be,” Stick looked up to see unshed tears in Poke’s eyes, “You were real touch and go there for awhile.” Poke brushed a wisp of hair off Stick’s forehead. “You have got to be careful, love. I don’t want to lose you, especially over something so simple. Promise you’ll be more careful, for me?”

Well nonnie, here ya go. Also on ao3.

Obi-wan was dreaming of a desert again. It was so hot, it felt like he was burning up. Baking under the heat of a bright sky. So bright, the light stabbed into his eyes. He couldn’t see. Hot dry winds, unrelentless, cracking his already dry skin. Everything hurt so much. He couldn’t couldn’t leave, he couldn’t make it stop. Make it all end, make it all just go away. What made it all unbearable, was that he was so alone. Alone because he chose it, because he deserved it.

“Obi-wan, cyare. Wake up.” Cody whispered into their shared room, grasping Obi-wan’s shoulder. His eyes shot open, with the most terrified look Cody had ever seen in the depths of those blue-grey eyes. He was was sweating and panting. It scared Cody more than he would ever admit, seeing him like this.

“Udesii, udesii. You’re okay Obi-wan, you’re safe.” His eyes finally focused on Cody, and the terror had abated a bit, but he still looked so afraid.

“Cody.” his voice cracked, as he reached towards him. Cody wrapped him in his arms, holding him close, shushing him.

After a short time, Obi-wan loosened his grip and looked into Cody’s eyes. He still looked distressed, but not quite so wrecked.

Obi-wan cleared his throat, “Cody, I-”

“-No. Don’t you dare apologize to me.” Cody softened his words by carding his fingers through Obi-wan’s hair. “It’s okay. We’re alone. You don’t have to wear The Negotiator mask around me.”

Obi-wan looked like he wanted to argue, but decided against it. “Thank you, Cody.”