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11. Falling objects. Uh... any character you want?
come get yer WHUMP
11. falling objects
star wars | tawl (oc) & the bad batch
772 words
vague bodily harm warning
thanks for reading!!
Everybody hold on!
That's what Tech had said just before tipping the Marauder into a nose dive right into the heart of a nasty, twisting storm on the surface of planet whatever. Separatist TIE fighters were hot on their tail, raining blaster fire in an unholy storm of their own.
Everyone had done as they were told, taking their seats and strapping in––everyone except Tawl, who very much did not fit in any of the seats. Tawl was a proud Ckaatran, very insistent that they were able to take care of themself––which was true! They often scoffed at any offer of assistance. Right now, though, as the starhip's hull shuddered and groaned against the outward pressures, and the cabin rocked in the turbulence, they found themself wishing that one of the clones would snatch them up and keep them secure.
"Where's Tawl?" Shouted Wrecker, as if reading their mind.
"What? I thought they were with you––!" Hunter shot back. The tattooed face popped out from behind one of the seats and scanned the cabin frantically.
"I'm here!" Tawl shouted, their voice wavering more than they would have liked. They clung to the wires in an exposed panel they and Tech had been working in prior to the assault. Hunter spotted them, eyes wide in alarm, and moved to get up, but another jolt shook the ship. Tawl grasped the wires with all four hands and wound their tail around it, trying to maintain as much purchase as they could.
That is, until a wrench was thrown into their plans, quite literally.
The attack had come suddenly. There hadn't been time to secure all the tools that Tech had been using earlier, and those same tools were flying around the cabin. Faster than they could react, a wrench flew past Tawl, smacking them hard and dislodging them from the wires. Their vision became a chaotic whirlwind worse than the storm outside. A distant voice sounded like it was calling their name, but they couldn't be sure. Then they slammed into something hard––the floor, if they were to guess. The wind rushed from their lungs, so they couldn't even cry out in pain. Still, base survival instincts had them digging their tiny claws into seams in the panels and holding on for dear life.
Loose tools cascaded around them, some narrowly missing them, some glancing against them. Pain flared through their whole body. More voices called out, but they couldn't understand them.
When Tawl woke up, they did so slowly. All they could really discern was a heavy pressure on their back, and varying levels of pain throughout their body. Their head and their left side hurt the worst.
"C'mon, li'l guy! Where are ya!" A voice called. Tawl's ears flattened disapprovingly at the volume. Wrecker. They tried to stand, but found they couldn't move from their prone position. Something was pinning them down.
"H-here..." they said weakly, though they doubted Wrecker would be able to hear them.
Hunter, however, caught the soft voice. He pushed past Wrecker, knelt down before one of the seats, and peeked underneath. There he found Tawl, battered, beaten, and barely breathing, caught underneath a broken tool. Careful hands lifted it off and hovered around Tawl.
"Hang in there, Tawl," he said, masking the worry from his voice. "I'm gonna pick you up––"
"Don't!" Tech shouted, popping up behind Hunter. He took a knee next to Hunter and held up a scanner. "Don't touch them yet. If they have any spinal injuries, moving them without proper restraints could only make them worse."
Hunter backed off. Tech leaned in with the scanner and ran it over Tawl, who remained motionless. They could barely comprehend what was happening as they struggled to stay conscious.
"Okay," Tech said, "They're hurt pretty badly, but you can lift them. Gently. I'll gather the first aid supplies and prepare a bed."
The moment Hunter's fingers brushed them, Tawl whimpered and tried to shrink away. "I know, tiny. I know it hurts, but I've gotta get you off the floor. We're gonna take care of you." Despite the effort he made to be careful, it was still excruciating to be gathered into his hands. Oh, it hurt so badly that it brought them to tears.
"Are they gonna be okay, Hunter?" Wrecker asked, peeking over Hunter's shoulder.
"Aw, worried about your pet, Wrecker?" Chided Crosshair from somewhere behind. Wrecker said something in retaliation, but Tawl missed it, and Hunter ignored them both.
"Just hang in there," he said, voice soft, soothing. His hands cupped around them, keeping them secure as he stood up. Every step he took sent another jolt of pain through Tawl's body, making them grimace and whimper. "Stay with us now... Tech...?"
"Lay them down here," Tech said, gesturing to a makeshift, Ckaatran-sized bed. Around it were various first aid supplies and scanners. Hunter did as told, letting Tawl slide gently out of his hands and onto the bed. Their little cries of pain sent pangs through his heart.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. Tawl looked up at him with bleary eyes, barely able to make out his face. They snagged two claws into the finger of one of his gloves as he was moving away, making him pause. They opened their mouth to say something, but darkness clouded their thoughts and their vision, and quickly overcame them. Their arm fell limply to their side.
"Stand back. I need to work," was the last thing they heard before they sank back into unconsciousness.
40. “ i didn’t know they were actually afraid of me… ”
yes this is the story that i designed this lil dude for :’>
star wars | the bad batch & a tiny alien ( oc )
1,703 words
very light blood warning
thanks for sending!
Oh, they are afraid. They’re terrified! Why the hell wouldn’t they be afraid of not just one giant being, but four? One of whom is significantly more giant than the other three!
“ Of course it’s afraid, ” one of the giants says, echoing their thoughts. “ You can’t just grab at it, Wrecker. ” That giant gestures to them, making them raise all four of their arms defensively. His voice is surprisingly soft, clashing with the scary-looking tattoos on his face.
They want to climb, run, crawl––do anything. They just want to get away. But they’re cornered, with four giants staring down at them.
“ I just wanted to see what it was, ” the biggest one protests. “ Look at ‘em! They’re so small, and they’ve got lots of arms! “
“ All very fascinating, ” another of the four speaks up, “ but it’s still not wise to try to pick up creatures we know nothing about. It could be dangerous. ” He flips his glasses down and leans in. The little being turns their defensive posture towards him, arms raised, tail lashing.
“ How dangerous could it be? It barely reaches my ankle, ” the last giant says skeptically. He isn’t crowding quite as much as the other three, but his presence is still plenty unnerving.
The spectacled man takes a step closer. “ Well, for starters, see that cybernetic arm it has? ” All eyes fall to the little one’s lower left arm. “ There’s a blade on the ulnar side that appears quite sharp. ”
Now feeling even more self conscious, the little being tries to tuck their prosthetic arm out of view. They keep their three organic arms raised defensively, and flare their crests up, trying to make up for their diminutive size.
“ It understands us, ” the tattooed man says, his eyes narrowing.
“ Fascinating. ” says the spectacled one. “ You can understand us? Do you speak? “
“ Ooh! Ooh! Let me talk to it! ” The big one shouts, making the little being flinch and flatten their ears back––all six of them. As if the volume wasn’t offensive enough, though, the big man shoves his way to the front of the crowd, trying to get closer. This, understandably, scares the kriff outta the little one. They shriek in fear. Knowing full well there is no escape in front of them, they instead whip around, take quick stock of the corner they’re backed into, and start climbing the wall. They’re fast, much to the astonishment of the giants. There’s commotion behind them, but they don’t look back. They can’t. They feel like their hearts are going to burst from their chest.
“ Crosshair, don’t––! ”
The little one doesn’t have time to cringe at the shouting; a blaster bolt sears the wall just a few inches above them, its impact rattling them, concussing them, dislodging them. Their grip fails. They fall. Everything goes black.
Did . . . did they just die?
Does death feel stuffy and cramped?
Voices, though muffled, ring around them.
“ ––can’t just shoot it! ”
“ What? Tech said it might be dangerous. ”
“ It’s just scared. ”
“ Is it dead? ”
This is not death. The little being squirms, feeling their way around the tight space. The walls are covered in fabric, and feel squishy. They’re warm to the touch.
“ No, it’s still moving. ”
A horrible thought slams into the little one’s mind. With a soft click, the blade in their arm flicks out, and they slash at the soft roof of their confinement. The walls flinch and bevel away, but don’t open up. The little one slashes again. A sharp grunt sounds around them.
“ Ow––kriff––! ” Very suddenly, the roof of their containment lifts, leaving the little one momentarily blinded. They cover their head with their top two arms, while their lower too remain defensive. “ Hey. ” The voice––that soft voice of the tattooed man, now not so soft––shakes them to their core. “ Enough with the cutting. ”
Once their eyes adjust, the little one realizes that, to their terror, they’d guessed correctly: they’re in a giant hand. The gloved fingers curl behind them like an oncoming wave, threatening to crash over them at any moment. Without thinking, they spring to their feet and jump––
––and abruptly stop mid-air, upside down. The little one chitters in alarm and looks down––er, up?––to see their tail caught between a giant forefinger and thumb. It doesn’t hurt at all, what with it being prehensile, but it still scares them plenty.
“ You got a death wish, tiny? ” The man asks. He lifts them to his eye level and stares them down, making them feel even smaller than they already are. “ Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. ” He glances back at the other three, all of whom are staring at him and his detainee. “ Heh. If anything, I’m the one that’s least likely to hurt you. ”
“ Hey! ” the big one and the spectacled one say in unison.
The tattooed man shakes his head and turns his attention down to his free hand. The little one follows his gaze. Across his palm, there are two slashes in the fabric and the skin beneath. The cuts are shallow, but they still seep blood. They feel another jolt of panic. Is he mad? Is he going to retaliate? He just said he wouldn’t hurt them! They start to shake. The tip of their tail instinctively curls around his fingers.
“ I know you can understand us, ” he says, letting his cut hand fall. The little one watches it for a moment, then looks back up at him, confused. So he’s . . . not mad? “ My name’s Hunter. Back there, the big one’s Wrecker, the one with the glasses is Tech, and the one that almost shot you is Crosshair. ”
The little one looks between all four faces, their gaze lingering a bit longer on the one called Crosshair. He stares right back at them, cold, remorseless. It makes them curl in on themself a bit more.
“ Normally, we don’t take too kindly to stowaways, ” Hunter continues, drawing their attention back to him, “ but I can’t imagine you take up too much space and resources. You can ride with us until we hit the next outpost. We won’t toss you out of the airlock like we would anyone else. ”
Well. That’s both alarming and relieving to hear.
“ However––– ” Dank farrik. “ There are some ground rules, okay? ” He stares at them expectantly. Slowly they nod. The corner of Hunter’s lip quirks up, a ghost of a smirk. “ We don’t need you getting squashed underfoot. Certainly not with Wrecker stomping around. ” The big man makes a noise of protest, but Hunter ignores him. “ So try to stay off of the floor. You’ve already shown that you’re a good climber. Stick to walls and tabletops. Or have one of us carry you. ”
Though the idea of being carried makes them uneasy, the little one nods again. Hunter looks satisfied. He steps nearer to a table and lowers them down to it, his fingers releasing their tail. Once they’re on their feet, they pull it closer to themself and stare back up at him.
“ Is . . . is that it? ” They ask meekly.
None of the men had taken their eyes off of them, but, upon hearing their voice, all four focus in even more. Tech flips his goggles up, brows raised.
“ It does speak . . . ” he muses.
“ Yeah, that’s it, ” Hunter says with a shrug. “ Other than the obvious ‘ don’t sabotage my ship, ’ and ‘ don’t hurt my men. ’ But I figured I didn’t need to say that. ”
The little one blinks and glances between the four faces again. Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, Crosshair . . .. They all look similar, like they’re related.
“ Tech can set you up a place to sleep. He’s also probably the best one to talk to about anything else you’d need. ” Said man straightens and steps up next to Hunter. The little one shifts uneasily, but doesn’t scramble back, despite every instinct telling them to do so.
“ Yes––you should tell me anything important right now, ” Tech says. “ What sort of atmospheric composition is best for you? What are your dietary needs? You’re carbon-based, correct? Does your arm require any external power sources? ”
Uh . . .. The little one stares up at him blankly. Their fins flatten against their neck, showing their unease. Hunter glances between them and Tech, one brow raised.
“ Maybe start with easier questions, ” he suggests.
“ Carbon-based––yes, ” the little one answers, much to the surprise of both Hunter and Tech. “ Er . . . there is less oxygen here than I am used to, but I can acclimate. And I eat . . . anything I can catch. ” They pause, again feeling a little self-conscious about their prosthesis. They ignore the final question and tuck their arm behind their back.
“ You’re carnivorous? ” Tech asks. The little one doesn’t care for how he’s ogling. They try to ignore it.
“ Yes, ” they affirm with a nod. “ Ckaatrans––my kind––we hunt. ”
“ Fascinating . . .. ”
A loud groan sounds behind the two clones, making the little one jump. All eyes turn to the big man––Wrecker. “ All this nonsense talk is so boring. C’mon, let me show the li’l guy around the ship! ” His booming voice shakes the little one down to the bones. They press their ears down as hard as they can, trying to protect their sensitive hearing from the offending noise.
“ Wrecker . . . ” Hunter starts, warning in his tone. “ We’ve already established that you scare it. You’re gonna have to give it some space while it get used to you. ”
Eugh. How patronizing. True, but patronizing. The little one grimaces. And they keep calling them an it.
“ Tawl, ” they say, raising their voice in the barest show of indignation. “ I am––er, my name is Tawl. ”
There’s a snort further back. Crosshairs shakes his head. “ Not a very fitting name, tiny. ”
Tawl’s fins bristle for a moment, but they force them to settle. They can already tell that they’re going to have to get used to comments on their size while they’re stuck here.
“ And I’m not an ‘ it. ’ ”
“ Then tell us more, ” Tech says. He pulls up a chair and sits himself down in front of Tawl, fingers laced in front of him. The proximity makes them nervous, has them taking a couple of steps backwards.
This is going to be a long journey to the next outpost, they can already tell.
